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kryptsune · 4 years ago

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Till Death Do You Part {Part 1} (UF Frans)

🌼Hummm I wonder why this is getting reposted with fully new edits. Could there be a reason I wonder?~

It was common for a girl such as herself to be betrothed to another even if she didn't know of him truly. A frightening prospect to promise your life to someone you had never met. Someone she knew so little of. Tonight was the night that they would meet and speak weeks before they would pledge themselves to one another. Just thinking about it made her nervous, hands fiddling with the fabric of her dress gently. Any moment now.

She was made up to look the most beautiful she had ever before but even then she was anxious, a shy and timid thing. Her auburn hair was styled in ringlets by her face amongst the bright ruby of a satin dress. Why had her father arranged such a thing? Wasn’t love the most important feeling? What if that was a luxury should would never be able to afford?

The young Lord yawned as he adjusted his cufflinks, going through the motions as always. He figured she would be just another pretty face, no mind to stimulate him, "I give her a month..." he murmured to himself before setting out for his first meeting. She was pretty, of course, and he always played the handsome and charismatic young suitor, "You must be the oh so lovely Lady Frisk."

Frisk didn't know who or what to expect as she twirled slowly to see whose baritone voice was addressing her. Was this him? The young lady picked up her dress taking a little curtsey out of respect. It was the proper greeting for a lady, "Yes Sire, though such flattery is not necessary. Frisk will do just fine." She had beautiful sparkling blue eyes like dazzling sapphires and a smile warm like the first rays of the morning sun.

She watched as he took a sweeping bow, "I would be your betrothed, Lord Red Fontaine." His hand extended out to her desiring the feeling of her own, "My... your beauty is astounding, I do not flatter my dear, there's no necessity for it.”

Well, he certainly was the charmer, “Forgive me, my Lord. I was uncertain and a lady should never assume. I thank you but I must confess my own thoughts on the matter, beauty only runs so deep. There are far more important qualities in a person.” She gingerly slipped her hand into his own. This was a gesture that most male suitors practiced at the time. The true test for her was his reaction to her confession.

He lifted that dainty pale hand, brushing his lips over the skin. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he laid on his almost supernatural charm, "Quite right my dear. Beauty fades overtime, but the mind...oh the mind is wondrous in what it can do...It is a true rarity to find both qualities." She was different from the other pretty faces he had charmed over the centuries. Something told him this was going to be quite interesting.

Most men she had conversed with wanted dull and shallow girls, all things which she was not. That gentle kiss he laid on her hand did cause her cheeks to warm in a sweet pink glow, “Such a refreshing perspective my Lord. I am used to dulling the mind in pursuit of shallow appeals. As you can see I do not hold my tongue.” It was better, to be honest about who she was then proclaim a temperament that she could not uphold.

He could not contain the smirk that twisted his mouth, perhaps she would prove to be a challenge nearly after 400 plus years, "Indeed, I too find your outlook refreshing. It's so rare to see a young lady of the times actually use the mind they possess." His voice was soft as he pulled her closer to him.

Cobalt eyes locked with his as she was brought close enough to feel the velvet of his suit. She considered him swoon-worthy, a gentleman, and he agreed with her view of intellectual stimulation. A rarity if she ever knew one. Her nerves fluttered away, “It is unfortunate. I hope that I do not disappoint. I must confess my nerves have been keeping my attention all day until this point."

One of her many distinguishing features were those eyes that held a vibrancy to them that he hadn’t seen in all his centuries, "As they should... After all, women are expected to bow and behave for their men." He gave a boisterous laugh and waved a hand dismissively, "Bah with that. I want my bride to be herself. Something I suspect you'll do, won't you?"

She seemed like such a sweet little thing. Usually, the ones he chose were vain or dim-witted. They jumped on him as soon as they saw his looks but not her, "A good mindset to have my dear, come let us take a walk and speak more." All he got was that sweet smile and those gemstone eyes filled with newfound curiosity and excitement, “I can only ever be true to myself, my Lord. Nothing more.”

He smiled at her agreement, endeavouring to know her fully and of course more playing to what she liked, but he found he had to lie less around her, "Truly, I've had a wonderful time my dear. I look forward to our wedding and future life."

Frisk was the happiest she had ever been because of his genuineness. She wasn’t quite sure if she loved him but he made her smile and treated her like a human being, not just some prize to be won or a doll to display, “As do I.” That genuine smile practically caused her face to glow.

He kissed her forehead chastely knowing full well he had to play his hand sweetly for now. The young bride to be couldn’t deny his sweet forehead kiss was enough to melt her as his hand slipped from hers. There was no doubt that she was smitten with him. His voice was that baritone that would cause one’s knees to weaken, "Wondrous my dear, I shall see you quite soon~"

As he always intended of course. He left her soon after dropping her off back at her home, slipping into the shadows as he returned to his own estate. His mind wandered as he strolled past the lamps posted at every street corner, their flames bright behind their glass cases. As with every game they played he would relay his findings to his two older brothers. They would exchange their progress and in turn joke about their victim’s coming demise.

His return home prompted a sit down by the roaring fire and a glass of wine as he let them speak. Carthus, the second eldest, reclined upon the ornate fainting couch that rested to the right of the main sitting area. The eldest, Gered, took a seat to his right.

The conversation left him at odds even as he barely processed to the words that slipped from his mouth. His two brothers on the other hand reveled in the drab game they had been toying with for more lifetimes than he cared to count.

Carthus smugly teased his younger brother with her potential thoughts of him as the moon rose to cast its silver light upon the land. The beams slipped through windows casting a somewhat eerie glow within the room. He of course had no such worries of the dark but what about her? He could just hear his brothers mockery about how hypnotized by him she probably was, "Honestly brother what do you think she will taste like?~"

Despite his emotional confusion he placed a smirk on his face, leaning back, and taking a sip from the wine glass cradled in between his fingers, "She is rather spirited and I believe pure as well. A rarity. It did not take much to have her wrapped around my finger, brother, but you are well aware of what I am capable of." The smirk forced on his lips grew as he spoke, “I believe this time that the game shall be won by me. My bride to be will be easy to please~”

Gered chuckled from his place closest to the flames, "We shall certainly see. I cannot wait to see how this game will come to a close... of course, we shall see how our lovely ladies stack up when the time comes to evaluate."

Carthus was back to his teasing, leaning forward to make a point of it, "I cannot wait to see the look on her face when she finds out what you really are in her last moments of life." It caused him to pause. What would she think of him regardless of the outcome? No mortal had survived to tell others about the brothers. They usually lasted a few months once the wedding vows were finished.

He cleared his throat to respond to his brother’s rather sadistic humor, "Oh it will be quite sweet I assure you." The three laughed in unison as they toasted to their manipulative vice, “Their faces are always precious right before you devour them~" If he was honest he did not even remember most of them. They were a meal and nothing more. Those blue eyes, however, stuck with him even now.

The following day he would meet with her again though the visit was more of a surprise to her. He found her lounging beneath the shade of an old tree and drawing silently. A few sticks of charcoal were scattered about the lush grasses at her feet.

He put on his best smile as he drew a single red rose from his coat pocket and dangled it in front of her sight, "Good morning my dear one."

She blinked in surprise, that soft flush painting her cheeks, "Good morning. You took me by surprise for a moment. I am overjoyed to see you again so soon." Truly she never felt so affectionate toward another before. Her smile only grew when he took a seat beside her, "As am I my dear, I simply could not wait to see you once more."

Though her joy was genuine she still retained doubts in her mind. The idea of an arranged union was not one that usually ended happily. She gently set her book aside as she smiled at him sadly, "Is such a thing true? I wish for you to be honest with me and I shall do the same.”

Red inclined his head for a moment before brushing his fingers over the soft, cool skin of her shoulder only to find a strand of long auburn hair to toy with, "I am being honest with you my dear, that certainly seems an odd request. Do you think I am only telling you sweet words that you expect to hear?" That was exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

Frisk looked out over the water as her pink lips curled upward. A smile but one filled with sadness. He had rarely seen such an expression on such a pretty face before, “I apologize. I must keep a healthy skepticism. My heart flutters when you are near and yet it feels too good to be true.” Maybe that was because it was.

How to assuage her concerns? He truly did not know how to do so since he was the root of the deception, "Ahh I see." His back came to rest on the tree behind him as he made himself more comfortable, "I can see why... to potentially find one that we belong with. It's an amazing feeling I think. It truly feels as if nothing else matters."

The look still painted on her face gave off that aura of doubt. He could usually sweet-talk his way out of anything but she was far too sharp to fall too easily for his floral language and sweet promises. Her eyes now remained trained on the ground, “I fear I do not deserve something so wonderful.”

A comment like that shocked him. It was baffling, "why ever not my dear?" Curiosity swam within his eyes as he moved to tilt her chin up. What a sweet and pretty thing she was, so fragile and yet so strong at the same time.

“I am cursed for what runs in my blood is dark. A power unnatural and forbidden.”

A curious response, "Oh? What might that be my dear?" Forbidden? Dark? Unnatural? What could she possibly harbor that would lead her to believe that she deserved ill-fortune? The irony was that he was the worst omen she could have possibly received.

Her lips parted as she kept her attention on her betrothed, letting the word linger on the soft breeze that lifted her hair, “magic.”

A mortal with access to magic? A mage? A witch? She was rare indeed in more ways than he originally anticipated. Perhaps that was why he had been drawn to her, "Magic?" His tone housed a sufficient amount of curiosity and he wondered if now he had to be more careful. If the power of the mages slept within her blood then even his own abilities may not work on her.

She nodded softly, “Yes. It’s a part of me and it feels right and beautiful but... it’s known as something evil.” A lie she had been told nearly the entirety of her life.

As an immortal being infected by dark magic himself he knew that all too well. His past was far from joyous, "Magic.. is one of those things people will..." He sighed pulling her closer to him. How much would he be able to tell her without implicating his rather... bloodthirsty condition? She deserved some form of comfort, "The things that people do not fully understand become a threat. Even if such a thing is no more harmful than the smallest butterfly.”

He truly understood her even better than she could have hoped, “Something that they do not understand they seek to destroy or punish. Even something frightening does not mean it is evil or has ill intentions.” Her eyes fluttered open as her hands began to glow softly, when she opened them there was a small illuminated blue flower nestled in the center of her palm.

He smiled, letting a gentle finger stroke one of the magical petals, "Magic can be beautiful... It can be deadly. It is like a sword. It depends upon how you use it."

Her cheeks darkened further as he spoke, "That is what I believe as well. It is hard to try and hide who I truly am. I fear no one would understand or be afraid of me. It's why no one truly knows but when I am around you I feel as though I can speak my truth. Forgive me."

His hands reached for hers closing them around that luminescent blossom, "There is no need for forgiveness my dear. You need not hide anything of yourself from me. For I hide nothing from you." He smiled at her. Why did he care what she thought?

She scooted a little closer to him as his arm came to wrap around her as he held her closer to him. That gentle breeze soothed her as she enjoyed the afternoon. He would be able to feel how much joy she got from just being in his company, "I have been very lucky. Perhaps this is not a curse after all.”

He had a desire to say more but he kept his words simple, comforting, “Of course it is not. It is a natural part of you that should be nurtured not diminished. You shall never have to fear such judgment from me.” For I am something far worse.

Frisk rested her head gently against his shoulder feeling free from whatever chains kept her prisoner before, “I know. No one has ever looked at me the way you do it’s...” She toyed with the hands resting in her lap, “Nice to know you accept me for who I am.”

He smiled. "Of course I will Frisk. You are quite wonderful.”

She rested there in silence with him. It was so peaceful and all the following days were the same. They both began to know each other better just by speaking their minds. She even practiced some magic when they were alone so that she no longer lived in fear of it.

When the day of the wedding arrived everything seemed to go by smoothly. She had been nervous at first but the moment she said "I do" he could see it was one of the happiest moments of her life.

In the depths of his mind, he thought it was the dumbest choice she could ever have made, but his face remained with an overjoyed smile, exactly what was expected.

Even...perhaps...

When he pulled her toward him for the kiss that would seal their vows, he felt something. This was far more than just a childish game of superiority. She could be different and then this wretched cycle could end.

Until death do us part

There was only one problem...

Death... had already parted them…

#undertale #sans x frisk #frans #underfell #vampire prompt #writing #drabble #part 1 #quick little thing #Welcome to the Underworld #WTU #red x frisk #It feels good to write for the OTP #vampire sans #gothic #edited #curious how this returns...I wonder why~

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salmonthestoryteller · 5 years ago

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Unclean

I wrote this for Michael Guerin Week - Pre-canon and/or “the lost decade”

I went with Pre-canon, so I could explore Michael’s childhood - with an emphasis on what he went through with the group he stayed with on his return to Roswell.

Trigger Warning for Child Abuse, and please take that very seriously.

This is very much Hurt with No Comfort, so please be aware of that as well.

Unclean A Roswell New Mexico Fanfic

Michael is eleven when he returns to Roswell. He’s learned a lot of things in the years since he emerged from the pod. He’s learned how to speak. Which is good, because not speaking had drawn attention he didn’t like. Pitying looks, and whispers behind palms that said something wasn’t quite right with him. He’s also learned that knowing how to talk and being listened to are two different things. He’s learned to read and write, though he rarely has the chance to do so outside of school. Books are kindling, not something to be enjoyed, as far as the meth-heads are concerned. He’s learned not to bring his schoolbooks home, but keep them in his locker or hidden somewhere else.

He’s learned how to count, and measure. He’s learned how much pennies and quarters scrounged from couch cushions and the bottom of the washing machine can buy. He’s learned how to steal food when he can’t find enough. He’s learned that as long as he spends the coins he finds, his caretakers never miss them. But if the drunk who he’s stuck with for two years finds him hoarding them - that won’t go unpunished.

He learns loneliness. He learns pain. He learns fear.

He’s not particularly scared on his treks to Foster Ranch. If anything, the starry night sky and stretches of highway and desert seem safer than any place he has ever lived on Earth. Sometimes there’s a feeling, like a fleeting memory, that invades his dreams when he sleeps under the stars. A feeling of belonging. Of safety.

In his waking hours, he never feels either.

He figures the religious freaks who run the group home can’t be worse than what he’s known. Outwardly, he’s right. There are no drugs or alcohol to be found, and the housing is spotless. There is a bed, a blanket, and a desk for every child to do their homework on. He’s never stayed someplace so clean. After finding Max and Isobel again, he almost feels like things might be looking up.

He’s wrong. He learns about duplicity. About prejudice. About hatred. He abandons the notion that any humans are good.

It starts out simple enough. With chores, and a schedule, and church every Sunday. He’s not used to a schedule, though. He’s not used to being expected to do things, because what he’s always been expected to do is stay out of the way. Apparently not understanding what they want from him isn’t an acceptable excuse.

“If anyone sins and does what is forbidden in any of the Lord’s commands, even though they do not know it, they are guilty and will be held responsible.” One of the adults quotes, as if it makes any sense.

They have a punishment, and a quote, for everything, he learns. Forgetting chores means being made to do things like clean the bathroom floor with a toothbrush. Taking food between scheduled meals and snacks means not only being denied the next meal, but being made to stand and watch as everyone else eats.

When he’s caught looking for loose change, he’s accused of stealing, because any loose change found is to go in a donation jar. That’s what leads to his first beating at the home. He’s made to get down the switch from the wall, and all the other children are rounded up to watch him be punished. Humiliation is new - he’s pretty sure he prefers being invisible.

“No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.” He’s told after.

He watches one of the workers wash another boy’s mouth out with soap after he is caught swearing.

“But shun profane and vain babblings: for they will increase unto more ungodliness.”

A girl’s hair is chopped off after she is caught decorating it with ribbons and barrettes she secretly bought.

“In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array.”

They are gathered up to watch another boy be beaten with the switch for being caught with a Playboy magazine.

“Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.”

Two of the girls are caught sleeping in the same bed, and even though he knows the one suffers nightmares - everyone knows - it doesn’t stop the wrath of the adults. They’re gathered to watch, and the girls are given twice as many switches as any other punishment he’s witnessed yet.

“To kill wrong desires, which lead to wrong actions, you need to control your thinking. If you regularly fill your mind with wholesome thoughts, you can more readily dismiss wrong desires.”

He runs away to Foster Ranch that night, spends it under the stars. Wishes for a world he can’t remember. No dreams of safety and belonging come. He wonders if he’d only ever imagined the feelings.

They lock him in the basement when he returns, where he spends hours alone in the dark.

“Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent.”

He’s tired of their quotes, and their punishments. The next time they’re gathered to watch a beating a picture falls from the wall. The next time he’s made to miss a meal, a dining room chair scrapes across the floor. It’s not until he’s made to clean the hallway with a toothbrush, and every picture in it crashes to the ground, that he realizes it might be his doing.

“You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons too; you cannot have a part in both the Lord’s table and the table of demons.” The adults warn them at dinner that night.

He’s pretty sure he would know if he somehow called on the powers of darkness. After a few tests with Isobel and Max, he discovers he can make it happen on purpose. He can make things move. It’s the best thing that’s happened since finding Max and Isobel again, and he begins to play with his ability more and more when he’s alone.

The good news is the practice lets him lift heavier items without getting tired. Lets him hold them up longer.

The bad news is this means the same when his powers explode outward without meaning to. More and more, the workers at the group home start eyeing him when things happen. When chairs slam into the walls, and tables get knocked over because he’s angry, always angry. He hates how they excuse their cruelty as being for the good of the children in their care. He hates their rules and their schedules and their quotes.

He hates that sometimes the quotes sneak into his mind and make him wonder if he’s wrong in some way.

One of the women from the group home catches him practicing. She opens the door while he's levitating a pencil, and even though he drops it right away, she crosses herself and backs out of his room. He hopes that will be the end of it, but it isn’t.

If it had been any other time during the year he’d have been in school, but it’s summer and it isn’t as if he’s ever needed to retake a course. He sees her speaking to the priest on Sunday. She makes him go into the basement Monday morning.

At first, he thinks it’s a regular punishment. When she comes back, though, the priest is with her. At first, it seems simple enough. They pray and toss holy water on him. But as the hours go on and he tries to get up, he’s forced back into the chair. Eventually, they tie him to it.

He’s hungry, and tired, and has to use the bathroom, but they don’t care. The first time he loses control of his bladder, his cheeks burning with humiliation, the priest throws more holy water on him- claiming that him “defiling” himself was proof of his possession. As night sets in, he begins to shiver from the cold. Once again, the priest claims it’s proof that he’s possessed - that the demon inside of him is causing his body to shake.

If they would just leave him alone, he could use his powers to escape, but they don’t. They take shifts, praying constantly and ignoring anything he says. He begs them to let him go, but the priest keeps saying he isn’t fooled by the demon’s trickery.

Michael isn’t even sure how he loses control of his bladder a second time when he hasn't had anything to drink, but the acrid smell makes him throw up. He hasn’t had any food since Sunday dinner, and it’s early Wednesday. The priest only says again that it’s the demon’s doing - proof that he's being controlled by something evil.

They finally give him water, but no food. He tries to use his powers to scare them. To move and break things in the cellar. He only needs a moment alone to get out and away. Instead, the priest heats his metal cross over a candle and presses it into his skin. His forearm is first - the metal sizzles where it touches him - the pain is the worst he’s known and Michael can’t hold back his screams. The smell of his own flesh burning hits him next, making him gag as the priest repeats the process on his upper arm.

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the malice and snares of the devil."

How ironic is it that their angel has his name, yet he’s being accused of being a demon?

"May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into hell all the evil spirits who prowl through the world seeking the ruin of souls.”

He loses control of his powers, the force of it exploding outward all around him - rattling everything in the basement. Afterwards, he passes out.

When he wakes up, he’s laid out on the floor with the woman and the priest leaning over him, asking if he’s alright. Does he remember anything from his possession?

Terrified they might start the exorcism again, he insists he can’t remember any of the last week. The woman sobs, thanking God and the priest for saving his soul.

The priest eyes him suspiciously and warns them it might not be over. “Demons may be exorcised, or driven out, from a possessed person,” he cautions.“However, this may be dangerous if not followed by stringent cleaning and discipleship. Without proper spiritual care, the person might then be open for a seven-fold infestation.”

Michael barely suppresses a shudder when the woman instantly says they’ll do it again if they have to. Only then is he allowed to go upstairs and clean himself up. The clothing is a lost cause. He wads it up and stuffs it into the bathroom trash. The smell from them is so strong it starts to fill the small space, and he ends up tying up the bag to throw away when he’s finished cleaning himself. There’s a medkit in the bathroom with burn cream in it, and he applies it to the marks he can reach. He pulls on a hoodie afterward - tugging the sleeves down to hide the marks even though he knows you aren’t supposed to cover burns. He can’t look at them; doesn’t want anyone else to see them. He follows every fucked up rule without hesitation for the next week.

He’d planned to sneak out the night of his birthday, but fear of another exorcism makes him ask permission to go camping instead, stressing it’s with Max and not mentioning Isobel at all. The head of the group home agrees, though the woman who did the exorcism watches him warily. She approaches him before he leaves to give him a rosary. He takes it so he can escape out the door before things escalate.

If, on the way back to the group home after burying a body in the middle of the desert, he finds himself fingering the rosary, it’s only because his hands are still shaking from shock.

“And nothing unclean, and no one who practices abomination and lying, shall ever come into it, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life.” He finds himself quoting, and hates himself for it.

He’s felt like the group home has been trying to convince him that he’s wrong and unclean since he’d first arrived. Now, after using his powers to bury a body, he isn’t sure he’ll ever feel clean again.

End

SuburbanSun beta-ed the absolute mess this fic was when I begged for help with it. Thank-you! Thank-you! I probably should have begged for more help after I finished fixing it up, so any remaining errors are definitely all on me.

Long Mostly Unnecessary Author Notes:

I’ve wanted to write a fic focusing on the exorcism since episode 01x06 aired, and episode 01x10 only made me want to write it more.

I have a life long fascination with all things supernatural, so I’ve actually read and watched a lot of things about exorcisms - both about what is supposed to be done if going through official channels (which actually involves a ton of medical and psychological testing and can take years to be approved), and what happens when some zealot decides they can just take things into their own hands. (Which in some cases I’ve read about led to the death of those involved.)

That being said, and I’ve admitted this as a writer in previous fandoms while attempting to write about religious characters, I am agnostic. So any and all religious references have truly only been moderately researched. I apologize if that has led me to making any blazing errors.

Michael mentions in 1x10 that the group involved were “Fundamentalist Religious Freaks.” Fundamentalist, according to the dictionary, is a person who believes in the strict, literal interpretation of scripture in a religion. Which to me says that they’re the types who follow the letter and not the meaning of what they preach.

Even though both young Michael to Max, and older Michael to Alex, basically shrug off this group as being crazy, we know he was in their care for a minimum of three years (11-14). He may have been in their care up to 16 or 17 since he makes no more mention of another group home or foster parent and we don’t know when exactly he started living homeless. So that makes it 3-6 years he stayed with them. That’s a lot of years, and I feel like on some level, especially coming to them at 11, it would have affected his thoughts about right and wrong and himself, whether he admitted it or not, so I wanted to hint at that as well.

#mgweek19 #michael guerin #tw: child abuse #roswell new mexico #rnm fanfic #hurt no comfort

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wardati · 6 years ago

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Void: A Brighter Future For Us All.

Myani vowed to protect his sister like any brother would but soon the vow fades out of memory, but for now he'll hold her as she falls asleep in his arms.

She becomes a tidal wave at six when she masters three languages and goes on to a fourth. He knew this would happen, his little sister becoming more than a prodigy. He looks at his father enticed by his own creation as she speaks eloquently in tongue and spirit, the dreams of her conquering the world were now in reach. He looks over at his sister, hair slicked back like ravines eyes wide and attentive. Maybe if he looked hard enough he could see it too- his redemption- the person she would be in between her kind laughter.

She would grow up following a line drawn for her since birth, perfect, brilliant, practically cosmic. Myani knows this universe his father has created would eventually crumble. He takes his pills crushing each one after the other with his teeth, barely seething from the bitter taste as he downs it with water. This morning it's worse, he's thrown up for most of it, bones aching, skin breaking out in thick sheets of sweat and the skin, the skin would later on peel off in thin grainy layers. Hani sits next to him crushing weed, it will help but in the long run it will do nothing. Myani thinks of his sister instead it eases the crushing thump of his heart but he's still sweating, the thought of when he'll leave this world and how she would be next. Fighting her own body ,sitting on a couch with her best friend and secretly regretting saving the world.

Hani, his best friend is still talking about his fiance, she's pregnant now. Myani tries to smile he's known this for a couple months even if Hani talks around it like friends do when they know you're dying so you won't feel bad that you'll probably never have children of your own. Friends like Hani are rare.Infuriating but rare and Myani has been in love with him for the past five years and has done little to nothing about it.

Hani will be a great father better than his own that's true, yet he wonders if his best friend will finally stop talking about the life he wants to have and just live it. But, he never says anything about it, he never does.

His long fingers take the joint, it sits between his plump lips and he inhales longer than he should so the clouds he blows into the air are thick and eggshell.

Myani wonders again, if this is it. If dying on the couch will be the greatest achievement he'll ever accomplish and even so, his father - the man who built him into becoming one of the most innovative people in the world, the martyr and sacrificial head of a biological enterprise that would start a new age for the years to come,yada yada fucking yada. The man who claims to be omnipotent- his father isn't here to witness.

So he's decided; Myani will make him. He'll turn the upcoming burden that will be throttled to his baby sister and take it with him in death. He'll destroy it all, he'll be a martyr one last time to save what's important to him. If he must he'll encase it Chinese finger trap and all, like a tongue stuck on ice or a kiss that leaves a stain. It will hurt but none of that will matter if he was saving Noa in the end.

"Hani." He says in thought. "Hmm?" "You should show me your dad's collection again." "You know I hate that stuff, it's barbaric." It's amusing how Hani is intimidating in looks but a pacifist at heart. Truthfully it was annoying. "I remember you saying he only keeps it so collectors and curators don't colonize any more of your peoples artifacts." Myani takes another heavy sigh, "just for a couple of minutes, I need air."

Hani rolls his eyes and plucks the joint from Myani's fingers who gives a tired smile. "He has other things in there too.You do remember he was a military rat right?" Myani licks his lips, "I know."

BREAKING NEWS: 14 Dead at Ally Genesis Corporation including John "Myani" Paul, son of CEO and chairman Jahseem Paul.

BREAKING NEWS: 1 Million people may be at high risk because of Allie Genesis Corporation deficiencies and leaks since mass shooting.

BREAKING NEWS: Could John Myani Paul be a lead to the suspect of the AGC Shooting?

BREAKING NEWS: 4,020 people fired at Allie Genesis and 9 institutions are ordered to shut down by government officials with JIC and MGU approval.

BREAKING NEWS: AGC President of Defense Salah Bahatt under fire for potential information on the mass shooting at AGC Institution and bio-plague outbreak that killed 4 in Oregon back in 2010

BREAKING NEWS: Ally Genesis, science saviors? Find out how after the tragedy how the corporation is taking bio-mechanics, neurology and many more into uncharted territory.

BREAKING NEWS: Ally Genesis declares cellular regeneration is now possible. Could we bring people back from the dead?

There's something that pushes Noa out of the water, as if someone had yanked her out of the tub. It feels like a thread pinned under the skin of her chest, so when she's heaving for air as if her throat was wrung out with closed tight fists. It hurts to breathe even if she's supposed to be grateful for it, how conveienet. She at twenty decided to take her own life and failed so time and time again she'd cry into her arms puckered in scars. She could hear Myani's laugh someplace far away in her emptiness and every time she tried to follow his voice she'd be here back into this world that she could never escape.

Later in the day when she pushed herself into comfort and laid in Myani's bed a thought she would read his letters again, go through his photography, miss him with abandon. Yet the thread in her chest caught taught on to something else. She woke up from his bed and walked down to his living room for no real reason and without thought sat on his couch and as her hand pressed into the cushions something brushed against her fingers. She pulled at it and noticed it was an envelope. It was different then the letter he left for her, this did not have her name on it but it was directed to her... it had t be. Her eyes widened as she read the words, the prickle in her eyes gained a heaviness that almost blurred her vision as she read the letter. She held her breath realizing even in death her brother still had a hold on her.

He still had secrets.

They framed someone else for what I did, didn't they? I would think so. If everything has gone exactly how I had envisioned. Noa, I'm sure they've started their trials on you. It may not look like they have, but father has his ways. I can't display my remorse in colorful words that elude to being remorseful or sorry, for once, I am not. I killed those people and planned on shortening my already short life not on a whim but it was something I had to do. I don't know how far back I've pushed their quota but it should be enough.

Leaking AGC's information will barely leave a scratch but it's a start to a very long journey. Whatever you choose to do in this life it will not outweigh your true purpose. Furthermore, in the next couple of years I know you'll find information about what I could do, and as I left you that day, the darkness in me will now rest in you. It will protect you now when I no longer can.

Noa,in a normal world all I would want for you is to be free, to smile to live and love as you please. But it isn't like that and I will need you to remember this life you live is yours but the part that you play is easily malleable. Father and his people will learn about you. You have always been his prized possession you have always been his favorite even if you don't think you are but all of this will be foreign to him if it means broadening the horizons of humanity and evolution. He is a man that will do what needs to be done. You should also take the same initiative. It was too late for me but I know you're strong enough. I know you're capable of much more than I. I wasn't capable of protecting you no matter how much you tried to follow me. I had to push you away at times because you needn't any more influence or my bad choices to pick up. I could of been a better brother to you, and I'm sorry.

So, when you wake up promise that you'll stop looking for me?

-Myani.

Noa opened her eyes realizing quickly what had just happened. It could be her mind drowned in grief and playing tricks on her but she swore she was sitting on the couch and not back in Myani's bed. She pushed the sheets aside and darted down the hall, when she reached the couch she sank her fingers between the cushions moving them from its frame, tossing them aside to find nothing. It was empty, it was all empty.

She stood alone in her silence for a long time. Noa reached for something, a remote that sat neatly on the end table. With a press of a button the television blinked alive.

BREAKING NEWS: New footage shows son of Ally Genesis chairman, John Myani Paul trying to calm the true shooter of the one AGC Shooting in 2012. The shooter is 38 year old Kowen Williams who killed 14 and wounded 2. AGC claim no prior knowledge or how this new footage has come about. Williams had been tracked to his home in Washington state but found dead from self inflicting wounds.

AGC's Chairman Jahseem Paul issued this statement:

"This could be justice, but it is also saddening and it is also salt on a wound that reminds the people who have been affected on that day. I'm glad officials have done their part in finding this murderer but it will not bring the lives lost back. It cannot bring my son back. Yet I will walk into each day hoping with vigor in my heart to carry on for my son and for my family and for Ally Genesis. My job is to push forward,endure and to broaden the horizon of humanity and evolution. For my son, and for the 14 lives lost that day I will continue to do so. I thank you all for the support and I thank the incredible people who made Ally Genesis with me and continue to better and brighten the future for all us ahead."

The news played on and Noa stood alone knowing all too well what her fathers words really meant. It had dawned on her just how orchestrated this all was, from Myani's trajectory till his suicide to the purpose of Ally Genesis, to her own. Every piece was set into place and finally it was time to make her move.

#m:noa paul #m:myani paul #drabbles.txt #i forgot the tag for this verse honestly #tw: mentions of mass shooting #tw: mentions of past suicide #im not formatting this really cuz im tired #long post//

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bettersex4u · 6 years ago

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TO BE TOUCHED BY HER IS TO BEGIN THE JOURNEY HOME

By Sophie Bashford 💛

There is a band of women present on this earth who are carrying flaming torches for the evolution of humanity.

These women are rare, unique, highly-crafted jewels of the ancient feminine spirit.

These women possess more courage, resilience and perseverance than is fathomable.

These women have silently walked through thousands upon thousands of years to find themselves back here on earth, charged with the task of re-awakening the deep feminine soul to humanity and earth.

Emerging one by one from the etheric temples of Shakti in all Her forms, the Awakened Women plant their naked feet on the barren soil of earth. Glistening with the radiant dew of communion with Divine Love, bodies supple and fluid with free-flowing Kundalini, Third Eyes wide open and streaming cosmic codes of truth, hair flaming and blazing with wild, unashamed passion, hands moving spontaneously to touch the wounds of Gaia's Soul and love Her back to Life.

The Awakened Women do not announce themselves as the Saviours of our Time. They mostly get on with their immense workload with devotion, discipline and immeasurable commitment to mission. All of these women will go through deep dives into their own accumulated emotional suffering arising from the suppression of the Goddess-Consciousness. This karmic load of the feminine wound will inevitably reach a crisis point at some point during this lifetime, pulling them into profound self-healing and self-awakening.

When these women heal themselves, they ignite a domino-effect of healing and transformation for generations of females both past and future. Not only that, the innate spiritual power of these women, who have spent eons devoting their entire Selves to serving the High Feminine, is so catalytic, so immensely creative and illuminating, so alchemizing - when these women pour sacred intention into bringing themselves into Wholeness, the entire Universe receives a body-full of oxygenated divine-blood.

If you have been pulled into the vibrating web of an Awakened Woman's energy field, you will experience a spiritual change.

Firstly, no matter what you think, your Soul chose to connect with her. This woman carries deep and significant mystic information for you; sacred intuitive-based codes that are vital for the evolution of your Being.

These women all carry pre-arranged agreements that bring them into contact with specific people at specific times. Often, it is a carefully organised date that correlates with certain moon phases and transits of the planets. This triggers wave upon wave of awakening shifts within the energy bodies of the people who connect with them.

The Divine Feminine High Council will guide this band of women consistently for the implementation of their mission. These women are never 'randomly' placed. There is always a deep purpose to the connections and places that these women bring their energy to.

It is not always an easy task to carry the sacred Torches for the feminine awakening. The earth has been plagued, restricted and weighed down by over-reliance and investment in patriarchal ideology and creed for so long. The vibration of fear that stems from over-guarding and blocking the Heart, losing connection with the intuitive voice, brandishing emotional energy as purposeless, futile and crazy, total disconnection with the wisdom of the body, and abandoning the practice of being regularly in silence - this vibration of fear has caused human consciousness to contract, run away, shut down and stop listening.

When human consciousness loses touch with it's Heart, it acts from fear. Actions from fear are always violent and intend to cause harm - physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually.

We cannot remain paralysed in the stuck vibration of fear and disconnection from the feminine soul.

YOU cannot remain paralysed in fear and disconnection from the feminine soul.

The only chance for opening to truth, to presence, to radiance, to depth, to healing, to unconditional acceptance, to trust, to being heard and seen for who you are at your core, to spiritual transformation - the only chance comes from listening to what the Voice of the Goddess is saying to you.

The voice of the goddess most likely is coming from one of the women I am speaking of. In her own way, through divine timing and synchronicity - through miracles woven through her sparkling robe of Light - She is speaking to you.

One of these women is speaking to you, affecting your energy field, working on your Heart with vast quotients of Love, flooding your weary bones and aching flesh with sacred waters from her overflowing chalice.

You know her. You could not have missed her. She will not be the flashiest, loudest, attention-grabbing woman. She will not manipulate, beg, or guilt-trip you into being around her. She does not work at the level of the ego. She works at the level of the spirit.

Spirit does not need to announce Itself because It is never not full, omnipresent, whole, complete. This completeness is compelling to you because it represents something that your heart recognises: universal truth.

This woman announces herself into your life not with noise, but with Silence. With Openness. With Radiance. With Light. With Gentle Healing. With Unending Acceptance. With Sensual Gifts from the Womb of Shakti. With a Hand that wants to Lead you into a New World.

A world lit by the torchlight of all the paths she has walked to reach you.

All the paths she has created just to get to you, to find you now, to stand in front of you, to offer herself to you as the Gift.

You may fall down on your knees in broken-down, worn-out, world-hardened exhaustion when you take her hand. You may say that you can't hold onto it for long, that the Light will crush or destroy you. You may want to run far, far, far away from all the deeply-buried pain that she unearths within you when her hand touches yours.

This is natural. This is the process. She has seen it all before. There's nothing you can do to stop her Love from reaching you. This woman is the universe in embodied form. You have no idea the trials, the punishments, the soul-wrenching deaths, the torture and the oppression that she has endured in order to reincarnate her physical form.

She has transcended the realm of the lower world for the purpose of being here to Love you back into consciousness.

She has wrestled with demons of darkness that want her banished, imprisoned, silenced, maimed, chained to thoughts of shame and humiliation. She has risen up from the embers of a fire that has always burned within her, but was once quenched by the fears of weak, anaesthetised men who did not understand the life-giving and sustaining power they were dealing with.

Because She is the universe in embodied form, she can hold anything that you bring up to try and defend against the Love that She is. She can see it, witness it, watch it play itself out. Your fears, defences and attacks won't touch her truth. They won't make a dent in her spirit. They will burn up in the fires of her sun, be illuminated as false by the luminescence of her moon.

All you'll be left with, after making love with her Soul - be you a man, a woman, a friend, a lover, a client or an acquaintance - is a searing, penetrating, brightly-lit awareness of your own Divinity.

You'll be left face-to-face with your Self. You'll suddenly feel your Deep Heart again. The feelings will course through your emotional body like sacred blood.

You'll be alive.

You'll feel the stirrings of the Love that is you.

You'll see the world through new eyes, beginning to treasure the gifts that you see flowing to you in each precious moment.

You'll want more, but not more things. You'll want more depth, more truth, more vital words, more silence, more flow, more stillness, more nature caressing your skin, more laughter deep in your belly, more touch that ignites your soul, more total immersion in radiance that makes you roar with crazed, primal ecstasy.

When you take her hand, if only for a minute, a day, a week or a lifetime, you'll merge with a Temple of Truths that she has only chosen to unlock for you. She is destined to unlock them for you, so that you can re-experience yourself as the Master of Destiny that you are.

She will be your holy template of Life, your talisman for remembering your Soul, and your moment to moment reminder of how you are so profoundly, mesmerisingly loved by the Goddess. You are being continually breathed by this universe into the highest emanation of spiritual truth. When you breathe with this woman, you will take this knowing into the centre of your heart and it will feed you for the rest of your earthly life.

The band of women who have come to resurrect the Holy Feminine here walk with precision, power and grace; with open, soft, vulnerable and mountain-strong hearts.

Let them touch you where your soul most needs their touch. From this point of fiery ignition, you will be given the blueprint for your deepest purpose and happiness to unfold.

These women know what they are doing even when they don't know a thing. This is intuitive wisdom at it's most magnificent and sovereign.

Be grateful. Be humble. Be prepared to have your life turned upside down, your senses aroused like never before and your chakras shaken awake. Above all, be ready for wild, exhilarating adventures that send you soaring through the stars and blasting through galaxies, yet return you over and over again to the supreme resting place, the eternal home, the arms of the Beloved, the nourishing, sweet, soothing breath, and the divine source of your own Being.

www.sophiebashford.com

Art " INANNA , Star Of Heaven And Earth"

by Jo Jayson Artist

www.jojayson.com

#bcummingme #love yourself #loveislove #biseuxal #asheville #be your best self #be your own person #self confidence #hendersonville #self love #divine #divine female

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bb8fan · 8 years ago

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The Racist Treatment of Bonnie Bennett

I contemplated coming up with some cool title with a ring to it, or maybe something veiled that made you scratch your head and wonder, before reading further, BUT... why not just call a spade a spade? - “But, BB8fan, that’s such a BOLD statement to make!” I KNOW. But don’t worry, I have the facts to back it up!

The definition of the adjective “racist” is showing or feeling discrimination or prejudice against people of other races, or believing that a particular race is superior to another. In this article, I will prove that Bonnie Bennett has been CONSTANTLY treated, made, and portrayed to feel as though the predominantly white characters of “The Vampire Diaries” were superior to her. #RacistTreatment

DISCLAIMER: LET THIS POST SPARK EMPATHY AND AWARENESS, NOT ANGER AND HATRED, LEST WE BECOME ADVOCATES OF THE VERY THING WE DESPISE...

Firstly, when it comes to men:

Bonnie Bennett has been treated, made, and portrayed to be the least desirable of the three female leads of TVD. While Elena was sought after by the hunky Salvatore brothers... and Caroline by the all powerful, Klaus, All-American, Matt, beefcake wolf, Tyler, Professor Alaric Saltzman, AND STEFAN to boot... BONNIE was sought after by Ben (who only wanted to use her), Luka (who only wanted to USE HER), Jeremy (who was grieving over the ex, he later CHEATED ON HER WITH), and Enzo, who had literally exhausted all other options!

IT IS DISGRACEFUL! IT IS STOMACH CHURNING DISGUSTING, AND BLATANTLY IN YOUR FACE, WHEN YOU PAUSE TO ACTUALLY LOOK AT IT! THE RACIST TREATMENT...

Elena was given the show leads, Caroline was given literally EVERY GUY ON THE SHOW, while Bonnie was whiny Jeremy’s third choice (after Vickie and Anna), and irrelevant Enzo’s third choice, for that matter! (Don’t forget CAROLINE and Lily! ;)

WHY have BOTH of her only relevant love interests end up with her BY DEFAULT?! And WHY IN THE WORLD couldn’t Ben or Luka start out using her, and then GROW TO CARE FOR HER?! Why did her stupid STEP BROTHER not even want her?! She had to literally THROW herself at him! WHY DID THE WRITERS TREAT THE BEAUTIFUL BONNIE BENNETT IN SUCH A DEMEANING MANNER??! In my opinion, she’s the most gorgeous of all the females, but NO. TVD made her undesirable. They put her white friends on a pedestal, and portrayed her as the inferior oddball NOBODY wanted and NOBODY CHOSE FIRST. #RacistTreatment

But in case you need more evidence...

Secondly, when it comes to empowerment:

Bonnie Bennett has been treated, made, and portrayed to be the most powerless out of the three female leads of TVD. ‘How so? Elena was a weak human for 3 seasons! And Bonnie’s the baddest witch in the land!’ I’m glad you asked... YES Bonnie’s a fierce witch, and yes, Elena was human for 3 seasons. BUT!

1) Bonnie was possessed, beyond her control. (S1) 2) Bonnie was held back by Stefan, while Damon KILLED HER MOTHER. (S3) 3) Bonnie was CONSISTENTLY FORCED to do magic for Klaus! (S3) 4) Bonnie helplessly witnessed her grandmother being tortured by the spirits, to the point where she lost the ability to do her magic. (S4) 5) Bonnie had to lay there and watch Jeremy die right in front of her! (S4) 6) Bonnie’s dad was KILLED RIGHT BEFORE HER VERY EYES! (S5) 7) Bonnie lost her magic. (S5) 8) Bonnie became the anchor, and had to undergo enormous magnitudes of pain. (S5) 9) Bonnie was stabbed, chased, and tormented by Kai. (S6) 10) Bonnie had no magic. (S6) 11) Bonnie was hunted by the armory and had no magic. (S7) 12) Bonnie had NO MAGIC! (S8)

So yes, Bonnie’s an all powerful witch! But HALF THE SERIES she’s spent WITHOUT HER MAGIC! Elena was weak and human, and used for the cure! BUT Bonnie has been used as a magical tool EVERY OTHER EPISODE - and by literally EVERY character on the show! It’s not just Klaus and Katherine who’ve made her feel powerless! BUT Damon, Stefan, Katherine, Klaus, Silas, Enzo, and EVERYONE!!!

Elena watched Jenna die. But Bonnie watched Jeremy AND her DAD die! She found her Grams dead, and was held back while her Mom was killed!

This woman has been beaten down in ways that are just deplorable and unheard of! She has been FORCED, she has been ABUSED, she has been TRAUMATIZED in the appalling ways she’s been made to feel and be POWERLESS! More times and with more damaging magnitudes than with any other female lead! Fight me on this! It’s #RacistTreatment

But just in case you still REFUSE to see the light...

Lastly, when it comes to worth:

This is the most serious and damaging of them all! Fine! Portray your only lead POC character as undesirable! Portray her as powerless! But worthless? This is just unacceptable... But TVD did it! My gosh they DID it with Bonnie Bennett!

Caroline doesn’t put her life above Elena’s so why should Bonnie? TIME AFTER TIME AGAIN??! And then not only does she do it with Elena, she does it FOR JEREMY TOO!!! She literally GAVE HER LIFE for the two them! For Jeremy to be alive, and for Elena to be “happy,” she GAVE UP HER LIFE, because it is worth THAT little! Or so the show would have Bonnie believe, - AND the other characters, as no one has ever corrected her, - and we, the viewing audience!

This is unhealthy, abusive, and DAMAGING, this belief system! But it has gone unchecked and uncorrected for YEARS! AND TO ADD INSULT TO INJURY, the one time people claim their “superior” white faves did sacrifice for Bonnie is complete BS! Talk about #RacistTreatment

The ignorance of the show BLEEDS into the fans/viewers of it, and it is SCARY! To say that Elena or Damon sacrificed ANYTHING in season 6, when Kai linked her life to Bonnie’s, is not only absurd, it’s HORRIFYING! I don’t know if people are losing brain cells watching this terribly written show, but Elena was IN A MAGICAL COMA! That was done! It happened! -- NOW. The loophole is that she could wake up, IF BONNIE DIES! So when people say Elena sacrificed, and Damon sacrificed, they’re literally saying “Delena didn’t KILL Bonnie, they’re supposed best friend! What a sacrifice!”

They’re literally patting them on the back, for not MURDERING their “friend!” Do you realize how messed up that is?!... But then again, a messed up ship breeds messed up fans! And a messed up show breeds messed up viewers! Bonnie’s life isn’t worth anything! That’s been the running theme of the show! So why wouldn’t viewers pat DE on the back for not killing her?! She isn’t worth crap!

“Bonnie’s superiors are her white friends, and she needs to be ready and willing to lay down her life for them, at all times!”

That’s the message of TVD. I am SICK. I am utterly disgusted and SICK! I cannot BELIEVE I wasted SO MANY years of my life on this show, thinking they cared about this beautiful person of color! CONVINCING myself they were saving Bonnie for DAMON, and that was the reason for her lack of love interest! Reasoning they were making Bonnie a stronger, more layered character, by putting her through so much crap! Believing they’d have the right man DECLARE Bonnie’s worth to her, and put a stop to her self harm!

NOOO!

They’re not saving Bonnie for Damon. Why would they put the “inferior black girl” with one of the most desirable males of the series?! Even though Bamon is canon in the books, they will not even share a KISS! They will be the only important book!ship left COMPLETELY UNEXPLORED (they even did Meredith/Alaric!), when if this were Bonnie Mccullough they’d already be MARRIED!

You know, back in season 3 of the show, I started to wish for Bonnie’s death. I thought, ‘if her character is going to be used and abused THIS much, she might as well be gone... Kat Graham deserves better, and I deserve better than to be stuck watching this show for her!’ But TVD kept her alive. They kept their token black person to keep their demographic viewers.

And yeah, a couple seasons later things seemed to be getting better... but then season 8 happened. :/ But I guess I should be thankful! My eyes are OPENED because of it.

Bonnie Bennett is ENDLESSLY treated, made, and portrayed to feel undesirable, powerless, and worthless, next to her white friends. It’s #RacistTreatment and she deserves better. Kat Graham deserves better. And we as VIEWERS deserve better.

I am SO DONE with this show, and I hope you will be to! Don’t put yourself through the heartache! Don’t put yourself through the twisted brainwash! I wish more than ever now that Bonnie Bennett would die. There’s just no winning. :/ She deserves better than emo Enzo AND self-centered Damon, who doesn’t give a crap about her! So just kill her! The writers have been emotionally stabbing her from the beginning anyways...

I’m hurt. This hurts me... In a world full of constant injustice for people of color, I thought I was finally witnessing a powerful character... an attractive and beautiful black woman, who would be cared for and loved by others... It turns out she was nothing more than a plot line punching bag, created to make Elena, Caroline, the writers, and the viewers of this show feel better about themselves. :/ The abuse Bonnie Bennett has undergone has abused me worst than I think I’ve ever experienced in life. They have subliminally consistently told me I am less desirable, less powerful, and less worthy. I didn’t realize it before unfortunately, but I realize it now! And I’m DONE listening to the lies!

Well, I hope this article has enlightened you all! Don’t get so happy next time you see a diverse cast! Pay attention to the way the show/movie TREATS their people of color! Don’t be fooled, and left heartbroken and damaged, after believing and putting your faith and support into complete filth...

Last, but not least, don’t let the ugly behavior of this world turn you into the very thing you despise. Fight hate with LOVE! And remember, we’re all brothers and sisters, whether we like it or not!

Pray for the writers of TVD. Pray for the actors. Pray for it’s fans. Pray that they see the error of their ways, and learn to love and treat others the way they’d want to be treated... We all make mistakes. We’re all human. “We all have sinned.” Now it’s about moving FORWARD from that, and not repeating the same mistakes! :)

P.S. Go show Kat Graham’s twitter page some love! As hurt as I am by Bonnie’s treatment, she’s probably 10x more hurt! It’s probably why she decided to leave the show! She knew things weren’t going to get any better for her... :/ Anyhow, go show her some love! Thank her for gifting us with the lovely Bonnie Bennett! And compliment her on being the gorgeous and talented PROFESSIONAL she has always been!

God bless!

#bamon #bonnie bennett #tvd #cwtv #racism

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ladydracarysao3 · 8 years ago

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In Love, Serenity

Chapter Nineteen: Faded

Notes Two songs for the background of this chapter, both from the Diablo III OST

I recommend "Azmodan" during the, I will call it "tense" part of the chapter.... Spotify Link here -or- Youtube Link Here

Then, after the violence is finished, I recommend "Leah" for the following section... Spotify Link here -or- Youtube Link Here

[Read Chapter 19 on AO3] or [Start from the Beginning]

-Abner-

The door handle to her room gently rattles, stirring her awake.

Confused, Abner sits up in her bed and rubs the sleep from her eyes, while trying to bring the room into focus. The darkness is only illuminated by a low, almost spent, fire in the hearth.

Her sensitive ears listen as light, sporadic tremors intensify on the handle. The metal of the lock jiggles and clangs. Before she has the wherewithal to call out to the intruder, the sounds stop. The air is deathly quiet, she peers curiously at the door handle, wondering if someone in the inn tried the wrong room, or perhaps she was just hearing things.

But she wasn’t hearing things.

Violently, the door starts crashing and booming. Someone on the other side is slamming into it again, and again, and again. Abner’s heart bangs in her chest so fiercely that she can hear it in her ears. She needs to get her blades, but she cannot move. Paralyzed, she feels cold sweat drip down her back, and terror rip through her chest. She is stuck watching the wood of the door bend and snap with every thrust made against it. She desperately tries to scream for help, but her breath hitches. The door finally bursts open, lock snapped, and wood shrapnel flying everywhere. At that moment, Abner finds her voice.

“No…” a hushed, croaked whisper in disbelief. “It can’t be.”

“Did you think you could get away, again?” His voice is dark, arrogant, and petrifying.

Abner begins to shake so thoroughly, that even her voice tremors, “I... I…k-killed you…”

His laughter has so much force that it shakes the room. The window panes rattle, picture frames on the walls threaten to crash to the floor. He stands there in the doorway, staring at her, fresh scars on his neck from where she cut him. His body is spotted with blood and worn off paint. His leathers and furs are stained a deep red-brown, and his face is uncovered. There looms the face of her worst nightmare. Ofred, here to take her back. His eyes gleam wicked malice and seemingly glow red, as if possessed by a demon.

Her heart beats so fast that she can’t breathe or think straight. Nothing but sharp, shallow gulps of haphazard air that fails to fill her lungs. It feels as if he is reaching across the room and choking the life out of her with just his glare.

He roars maniacally, “Are you so sure it was me you killed?”

Abner is suffocating. She grips at her throat trying to will it to open, but her hands are wet and slippery as they slide over her skin. Panicked, she looks down to find that they are covered in blood. She is covered in blood. The barmaid and Hawke are lying on either side of her, motionless. The sheets over them are drenched in blood and covered in rips and tears. Abner stares at a bloody dagger in her hand and immediately drops it, recoiling from the implication.

“No,” she croaks, still gasping for air, “I didn’t… I didn’t do this!” She vigorously shakes Hawke’s body. Voice, a coarse squeak, she pleads with his motionless form, “Hawke… Hawke, wake up… please wake up…” His body lays limp, quiet. His eyes lie open, but nothing’s in them… blank… empty… dead.

Tears roll down her cheeks as her husband howls in the doorway. “You always knew I’d find you,” he snarls at her, the glow of his red eyes intensifies. Every scar on his massive body glows as well, as if evil power grows within him, searching for its way to pour out. “The Hand of the Mountain Father owns you, cunt.”

Venomous, Abner chokes out the inherit defiance she has never been able to quell, even when she should. “That isn’t your name, Ofred. You are nothing to Him. You are a disgrace.”

He takes slow menacing steps toward her as she rips at the sheets to get away. The immensity of the blood pooled around her is too viscous. She slips and sticks to the bed. She tries to scream but her throat scratches and splits.

“You are nothing. You never will be. You have disgraced your clan and our people. You fucking piece of shit!” It takes all of her energy to force out her weak, suffocating voice, as she braces for his attack.

He grabs her by the neck, his flaming eyes burning into her with murderous rage. He slowly crushes her throat with his hand, holding her naked body in the air like a rag doll. Abner coughs and sputters, clawing at his hand and kicking her feet in the air. Hysterical, she fears that he will actually kill her this time. “Please,” she chokes a whisper, “Not again… please… I’ll be good… I swear…” pleading as she strains for air.

“Too late for that now, whore. It’s time you know once and for all who owned you and your pathetic little life.” He growls before throwing her violently against the stone fireplace. Her head cracks against the mantle before she lands in a heap on the floor, certain she has broken bones.

He lunges toward her as she grabs the fire iron and points at him. The metal trembles from her shaking, weak arm. He laughs at her attempt at defense and lets the iron slowly enter his flesh, while continuing his advance.

Horror overwhelms her, how can this be happening? “No… no…” she squeezes her eyes shut as his hands reach out to break her. She readies herself for the pain as best she can, screaming in terror.

Two hands grab Abner’s shoulders.

They are smaller than they should be.

The hands shake her forcefully, but not with cruelty. “Abner… you are alright. It was just a nightmare. Open your eyes. He is gone.” A voice gently hums to her, but she is too afraid to open her eyes. He is going to kill her this time, she’s sure of it. Tears squeeze through as she shivers and trembles.

“Calm yourself. Open your eyes, da’len,” the voice thrums.

Elvhen.

Opening her eyes in a flash, Abner wheezes and gasps for air as if she had been drowning. Finally able to breathe again, she looks around frantically. She is sitting in a clearing, surrounded by trees, and wearing a light, cotton chemise. The moonlight gives the grasses around her a soft luminous glow. A cool breeze sings through the reeds, they whisper to her in the deep blue.

Abner concentrates on slowing her breathing as her heart rate calms. The figure holding her shoulders is silhouetted and kneeling in front of her. She strains to see him in the darkness, her eyes gradually adjusting to the low, midnight light. He releases his grasp while she squints.

The fadewalker.

“H--how?” Abner quietly stammers, tremors still vibrating through her body.

“You are dreaming, da’len. I sensed your distress,” He says simply.

As Abner slowly regains composure, the tremors stop. It was a dream. He wasn’t there. He didn’t break me. I am okay.

I am okay.

She puffs steady breaths, releasing tensed pressure in her body, she eyes the fadewalker suspiciously. “You… sensed… me?”

His large elvhen eyes shimmer in the soft light, but she cannot quite make out the details of his face. He silently stands to his feet and offers her his hand. She takes it. With steady, yet gentle strength, he pulls Abner to her feet. His long thin fingers are agile, but firm. His skin… soft like velvet.

His hand lingers on hers. She stares at him curiously, causing him to remember himself, and snap his hand away.

Standing in the moonlight, she can better see his face, and she studies it quietly. Searching for answers in how he carries himself. Abner has always been very observant, with an ability to easily read people’s expressions. But while this dark mage with a mane of dreaded hair, dressed in furs, bones, and scraps of cloth, appears as untamed as the wind, he in fact, carries himself in a perfected stoicism. His stare is impassive, blocking her from trying to read his thoughts or his intent.

They stand there silently for what feels like an eternity, but the silence helps her mind continue to soothe until she has fully relaxed. Confident that Ofred is still dead, her curiosity about the stolid fadewalker only grows. Abner’s inherent impish guiles cause her to smirk at the elvhen mage. What is his game? Will he make a habit of intervening in her dreams? Why he even bothered to intervene in the first place, she wonders.

Noticing her smirking at him in spirited contemplation, he flattens his eyes and frowns. “You should be wearier of the human,” he states dryly, breaking the silence.

“What… Who?” she is briefly taken aback. That was ever the random statement… What more does he know about her? And how?

Contempt drips from his lips, “Your juvenile little mage boy.”

She snorts, “Hawke?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you give two shits ‘bout who I let hang around?” She is both mildly amused and annoyed by this fadewalker’s interest in her company.

He groans with displeasure.

With willful eagerness and defiance, she continues to question him. “What? What is it, Fadewalker? Why have you set your sights on me?”

Dead pan he ignores her and questions her instead, “Did your mother teach you Elvhen?”

Oh, does he think that will shock her? Trip her up? No. No, it will not. “You got a real body somewhere, Fadewalker?”

“Why do you cling to your human blood, when your elvhen blood is far more tenacious?”

“Do you lurk in the shadows and watch me during waking hours?” Abner crosses her arms, continuing to smirk playfully at him. He grows more annoyed with her questioning, as if he is not doing the same.

“Have you forsaken your legacy? Your culture?”

“Is this even what you look like? Or do you change your appearance? Do you shapeshift for everyone you stalk, Fadey?”

“What have the humans ever done for you?”

“Are you plannin’ on making a habit of this dream meddling, Fadey?”

“Enough.”

“Answer me.”

He grabs Abner’s shoulders sharply, startling her. He is pleased with himself for catching her off guard. A twinkle shines in his eyes as he lowers his face to hers and hums in satisfaction. Their eyes inches apart, noses almost touching, she feels his breath on her lips.

He whispers, “Wake up.”

Abner’s eyes fly open and her chest heaves in shock. She blinks and glances around her before moving. She is back in the inn. The sun has begun to rise, allowing for a cool, blueish ray of light to trickle in from the window. The hearth has not but soft glowing embers. The barmaid is missing, but there is not a drop of blood, and Hawke breathes deeply with heavy sleep to her right. The linens are damp around her, but this time from sweat, not blood, while she was fitfully asleep.

It was all a dream.

She breathes and rubs her chest just above her heart to ease the pressure knotted there. Her other hand reaches to wipe sweat from her forehead and pinch between her eyes. What a fucking nightmare. She sits up on the bed, massaging her neck, half expecting it to be sore from strangulation. But she is fine.

Hawke’s hand caresses her, lightly feathering his fingers against the bare, clammy skin on her back. She turns her head and looks down to find he is blearily smiling up at her. The wild redheaded mage looks like a beautiful spirit. His gaze smoky with desire, his hair is adorably plumed and messy on the pillow. Strong, chiseled, bare chest calmly rises and falls with his soft breaths. She wants to reach out and run her fingers through his patch of chest hair, but she doesn’t. She wants to tug on his auburn beard, and kiss him passionately, stay with him like this – in bed – all day, or forever. But she won’t.

“Good morning, love.” He hums up at her, “How did you sleep?”

Groaning, she flops back down to her pillow. Turning on her side to face him, she sighs, “Nightmares.”

He brings his brows together in worry, stroking her cheek delicately with his thumb. “Ofred?” he asks and she dips her eyes down. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Abner reaches up and holds his hand to her face, reveling in a fleeting moment of feeling safe. If she told him her dream, he would only have more questions. As much as the fadewalker may think she trusts Hawke, she doesn’t. She can’t. Holding his hand, she twists her face to kiss his palm. “No,” she says.

“You can trust me, Abner. You should talk to someone.” His usual stormy eyes are clear and sober. He softly encourages her, “Tell me what happened to you.”

How could she tell him? She can’t tell him. He would never look at her the same. He would harbor feelings about things he has no control over. She won’t be made to relive her secrets in order for him to think that they are ‘closer,’ or that it ‘helps’ her. She won’t lay out all of the reasons why she is different, for him to play hero to her heart. She won’t share why she never to truly fits in anywhere. Why she prefers to live life alone, than to put trust in another.

She can’t tell him how her mother and father were never supposed to love, never supposed to meet at all. But that they did and they bore her because of it. How her mother’s clan abandoned her for loving a human, an Avvar human of all things. Her father’s clan in turn, reluctantly housed them, because of how valuable they were in the hunt, however, Abner was never fully accepted. And when the blight killed her family, along with many others in the clan, it was she who was blamed for the Gods’ disfavor. She was the reason her clan was not protected.

She can’t tell Hawke that she was given to Ofred, without her consent, just to get rid of her and her curse. That at too young of an age, that disgusting man came into her hold, took her from her bed, and she never saw her clan again.

She can’t tell him that the man she was given to had an affinity for the small and the helpless. Or that his affinity came at a price.

She can’t share the tales of how she would limp to the healer regularly, explaining how she ‘slipped while hunting again.’ Or that the beast she attacked was ‘too strong’ for her. He cannot hear the fact that no one believed her tales, yet no one did anything about it. That to her new clan, Abner was secretly untrusted, unprotected, unwanted. Her blood, spoiled. Her womb, barren. Her purpose, unclear.

He can’t hear that one day, she couldn’t reach the healer. Her broken leg would not support her. Her battered arms, too weak pull her. How she laid broken and bruised for too long before she was found. That it was Ofred’s father who finally decided it was enough. He wanted her to leave, for good this time. And while he was distracting his son, his wife was giving her a small pack of supplies and sneaking her into the wilderness.

Hawke will never know that she was wretched and terrified. How she was haunted by the threat of being discovered and dragged back home, again. Or that Leliana was the one who found her, and it was she who helped Abner find her strength. She and the only man Abner thought she could ever love.

Hawke need not know that Abner vowed to never be weak again. That she revels in her learned agility, and however secretive, she now takes pride in her mother’s lithe and nimble frame.

He doesn’t have to know why she can’t trust.

She sighs after remaining silent for too long. He is looking at her, hoping she will divulge her secrets. “Hawke,” her heart sinks and she knows he can hear it in her voice. “This is why I was trying to push you away. You have too many questions. You already know too much. It is easier for me to shut you out… be angry with you, than to answer your questions. My past is my own. I don’t want to relive it. I want it left forgotten.”

She takes his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over callouses and scars. He looks at her with melancholy disappointment in his grey-blue eyes.

He tries so hard to seem impervious, clever, and confident with the world, but Abner can see that he hides behind his sarcasm and nasty remarks. His willful insolence is a barrier to keep people from getting too close. Like her, he prefers to be wild and unpredictable, to vulnerable.

He thinks has chosen her to share in vulnerability, he is begging her to join him. But she won’t.

Smiling at her prescient admirer, she gently chides him, “I have lived a hard life. My time with him… was the worst. But killing him… killing him was the best. He is dead now, and that’s all that matters.”

She winks and gives him a soft shove in the shoulder to cut the seriousness of the atmosphere, “Now, unless you want me to tell you to ‘fuck off’ again… do not ask about it anymore.”

Hawke huffs a reluctant sigh, “Alright… I will let it be. If that is what you truly wish.” His face brims with fleeting hope that she will retract her decision and spill her secrets.

Bringing his hand to her lips, she kisses his knuckles. “Thank you,” she breathes the words into his skin.

#in love serenity #abner #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fandom #dragon age romance #my fic

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wanderingwonderingwanderlust · 6 years ago

Text

Daniel #4

I had a day full of many realizations last week which kept coming to me sitting in silence at work. And they kept being confirmed in things I read in books and experienced through the day. I have been uncovering a lot since mid April. I think revelations of the self end up being divine revelations of the spirit. God and the individual are inexplicably linked. To really know oneself, both the good and bad, is to know God. This makes self-awareness a necessary trait. I suddenly see how I possess some of the same sins and struggles as my mother though I point the finger. I see her pain more everyday now that I get further from my own. Which only makes me love her more and increases my patience. There is a lot of truth in the concept of wounded healers; the wisdom to heal only comes through difficult personal experience which forms the basis of knowing how to really love. I find this meditating on my childhood and parents to be of extreme importance for me to know myself, break the many cycles I see and do not want to pass on. I try not to hold my parents in judgement, but only to understand for my self and future kids which becomes future generations. And I hope one day my kids will have the wisdom to look at me and my mistakes objectively and see their upbringing for things they do not want repeated or need to see for their own healing. המשיכו להיו�� מאושרים בדברים שקראתי בספרים וחוויתי במשך היום. אני כבר חושף הרבה מאז אמצע אפריל. אני חושב התגלות של עצמי בסופו של דבר להיות התגלות אלוהית של הרוח. אלוהים והאינדיבידואל קשורים באופן בלתי מוסבר. כדי לדעת את עצמך, גם את הטוב והרע, הוא לדעת את אלוהים. זה עושה את המודעות העצמית תכונה הכרחית. פתאום אני רואה איך יש לי כמה מאותם חטאים ומאבקים כמו אמא שלי, אבל אני מצביע על האצבע. אני רואה את הכאב שלה יותר כל יום עכשיו, כי אני מקבל יותר משלי. וזה רק גורם לי לאהוב אותה יותר ומגביר את הסבלנות שלי. יש הרבה אמת במושג המרפאים הפצועים; את החוכמה לרפא רק מגיע דרך ניסיון אישי קשה אשר מהווה את הבסיס של לדעת איך באמת לאהוב. אני מוצא את זה meditating על הילדות וההורים שלי להיות בעל חשיבות קיצונית בשבילי להכיר את עצמי, לשבור את המחזורים הרבים שאני רואה ולא רוצה להעביר. אני מנסה לא להחזיק את הורי בשיפוט, אלא רק להבין את עצמי ואת ילדי העתיד שיהפוך לדורות הבאים. ואני מקווה שיום אחד הילדים שלי יהיו חוכמה להסתכל עלי ועל הטעויות שלי באופן אובייקטיבי לראות את החינוך שלהם על דברים שהם לא רוצים לחזור או צריך לראות עבור הריפוי שלהם.

I remember when I started going downhill to depression, I became obsessed with barely ever receiving the understanding I so readily give others. Or the love and empathy. I was exhausted. It drove me to deep emptiness and isolation because it was absent of the only pure motivation for such actions: love. Love gives while truly expecting nothing in return. But my motivation was human, one of the ego, of selfishness, although I didn’t see that until Tuesday. Something performed and seeking of the flesh. A basking in my given gift of authenticity for the wrong reasons. It was giving to get. It was craving something I must have once known deep down and must have still longed for, something that only comes from God— love in its pure form. But we become separated from it when we are no longer children. I see a new sin within me. A sin my mother has not yet recognized in herself. Acknowledgement and humbleness is the only way to purify it. I believe our salvation comes from our individual sins like the light which comes through cracks. So it was just this oddly magical day. It was because from the start I felt that true love for all humans and acted on it so freely. It was all consuming and wasn’t the selfish love of wanting in return but instead actual love. For everyone. The love you seem to give me. It was a love bestowed on any and everyone no matter their reaction. In turn this didn’t leave me empty as it usually does, it left me full. I am in no way explaining this to the depth of which I want. Contemplating on it leads to more and more which could be said.

אני זוכר כשהתחלתי לרדת אל דיכאון, נעשיתי אובססיבי בקושי בקושי מקבל את ההבנה שאני כל כך בקלות לתת לאחרים. או האהבה והאמפתיה. הייתי מותש. זה הסיע אותי לריקנות עמוקה ולבידוד משום שלא היה לה המוטיבציה הטהורה היחידה למעשים כאלה: אהבה. אהבה נותן בזמן באמת מצפה שום דבר בתמורה. אבל המוטיבציה שלי היתה אנושית, אחת האגו, של אנוכיות, אם כי לא ראיתי את זה עד יום שלישי. משהו מבוצע ומחפש את הבשר. A basking במתנה הנתון שלי של אותנטיות מהסיבות הלא נכונות. זה היה נותן לקבל. זה היה השתוקקות למשהו שהייתי מוכרת לו פעם, ועדיין השתוקקתי אליו, משהו שרק בא מאלוהים-אהבה בצורתו הטהורה. אבל אנחנו הופכים להיות מופרדים ממנו כאשר אנחנו כבר לא ילדים. אני רואה חטא חדש בתוכי. חטא שאמי עדיין לא הכירה בעצמה. הכרה וענווה היא הדרך היחידה לטהר אותה. אני מאמין שישועתנו באה מחטאינו, כמו האור שמגיע דרך סדקים. אז זה היה פשוט יום קסום מוזר. זה היה כי מההתחלה הרגשתי את זה אהבה אמיתית לכל בני האדם ופעל על זה כל כך בחופשיות. כל זה היה אכזרי ולא היתה אהבה אנוכית לרצות בתמורה אלא באהבה ממשית. לכולם. האהבה שאתה נראה נותן לי. זו היתה אהבה שהוטלה על כל אחד וכל אחד, ללא קשר לתגובתם. בתורו זה לא השאיר אותי ריק כפי שהוא עושה בדרך כלל, זה השאיר אותי מלא. אני בשום אופן לא מסביר את זה לעומק שבו אני רוצה. בהרהור על זה מוביל יותר ויותר אשר ניתן לומר.

I also so clearly saw the evidence of this love. How you can leave someone better than you met them, even if your interaction was for a few seconds. One is always crossing paths with strangers if they don’t close themselves off. And every action has a reaction. Simply smiling at a worker who asked if I needed help led me to overhear him later telling another worker that “someone actually smiled when I asked them if they needed help, that never happens here”. But THAT is how the world changes. I see that there are many ways to heal people, but also just one— love which comes from a pure place and isn’t selfishly motivated. People glow within its bounds though some reject it from deep envy or hurt. It’s piercing. But it can actually rescue people— or really, help them rescue themselves.

If there is something I understand, it is darkness. I can get so stuck in it. And many dark things have happened to me or I allowed them to happen to me. But I see that it’s almost impossible to differentiate bad happenings from good in the end. From bad often comes good. We cannot always see the larger picture. Something really awful that happened between my mom and I weeks ago has worked for good now. For the both of us. We are closer. I am in a better place of understanding. It was no coincidence it took place. Parents teach their children, and children teach their parents.

אני גם ראיתי בבירור את הראיות של אהבה זו. איך אתה יכול לעזוב מישהו טוב יותר מאשר פגש אותם, גם אם האינטראקציה שלך היה במשך כמה שניות. אחד מהם תמיד חוצה נתיבים עם זרים אם הם לא סוגרים את עצמם. ולכל פעולה יש תגובה. חיוך פשוט על עובד ששאל אם אני זקוק לעזרה הוביל אותי לש��וע אותו מאוחר יותר אומר עובד אחר כי "מישהו ממש חייך כששאלתי אותם אם הם זקוקים לעזרה, זה לא קורה כאן". אבל זה איך העולם משתנה. אני רואה שישנן דרכים רבות לרפא אנשים, אבל גם רק אהבה אחת שמגיעה ממקום טהור ואינה מניעה אנוכית. אנשים זוהרים בתוך גבולותיה, אם כי יש כאלה שדוחים אותה מקנאה עמוקה או מכאב. זה חודר. אבל זה באמת יכול להציל אנשים - או באמת, לעזור להם להציל את עצמם.

אם יש משהו שאני מבין, זאת החושך. אני יכולה להיכנס לזה כל כך. והרבה דברים אפלים קרו לי או שהרשה להם שיקרו לי. אבל אני רואה שזה כמעט בלתי אפשרי להבדיל בין התרחשויות רעות מטוב שבסופו של דבר. מ רע לעתים קרובות מגיע טוב. אנחנו לא תמיד יכולים לראות את התמונה הגדולה יותר. משהו נורא באמת שקרה בין אמא שלי ואני לפני שבועות עבד עכשיו טוב. בשביל שנינו. אנחנו קרובים יותר. אני נמצא במקום טוב יותר של הבנה. זה לא היה מקרי. הורים מלמדים את ילדיהם, וילדים מלמדים את הוריהם. But I also see the results of how as a kid she would withdraw her love from me if I disagreed or said no or gave my real opinions as an individual. Or if I ever told her anything vulnerable about myself or things that happened to me. There was no sense of calm in our house. How unpredictable her extremely irrational reactions were over simple things. If a child doesn't want more food, it isn't something to take offense to personally or a reason to guilt them or withhold your love. If they have a bad dream, it doesn’t mean they have a demonic possession. “Don’t tell your mom” was a common thing my dad would tell us to keep the peace. Kids are individuals with rights to their feelings and the ability to be their own person. So I learned to always give in to others and what they want, to silence ourselves, to just hide things and to just do whatever the other person wanted to not hurt feelings or cause unpredictable reactions of anger. This has caused me a lot of trouble creating boundaries in life and speaking of my feelings. I literally had no boundaries before. I let people looking for a victim tramp all over me. I learned to always say yes. To feel obligated. I learned to smile when I didn’t feel like smiling. This set me up for having no self esteem and no ability to communicate or set boundaries. And boundaries are protectors of the soul. The soul is your property and such it's also the property of God's. It's important to protect it. The world needs less shame. Less resentment. Healing shame comes from empathy. Healing resentment comes through healthy boundary setting and communication. And these only come through love. Boundaries and empathy are expressions of love. Love of self and love of others. Last summer at this time I was in Jordan at a table arguing with a Turkish woman who told me that deep deep down I knew there was a god. I argued that there wasn’t. It is no wonder that I fell into such a dark place. My very self was being rewired. I felt as though I knew so much but I knew so little. I will probably say the same thing in one year from now about my current self. אבל אני גם רואה את התוצאות של איך כילד היא היתה למשוך את אהבתה ממני אם אני לא מסכים או אמר לא או נתן את הדעות האמיתיות שלי כאדם. או אילו סיפרתי לה משהו פגיע על עצמי או על דברים שקרו לי. לא היתה שום תחושה של שלווה בביתנו. כמה בלתי צפויות התגובות הלא רציונליות שלה היו על דברים פשוטים. אם ילד לא רוצה יותר אוכל, זה לא משהו כדי להיעלב באופן אישי או סיבה לאשמה אותם או למנוע את אהבתך. אם יש להם חלום רע, זה לא אומר שיש להם חזקה דמונית. "אל תגיד לאמא שלך" זה היה דבר שכיח שאבא שלי היה אומר לנו לשמור על השלום. ילדים הם אנשים עם זכויות הרגשות שלהם ואת היכולת להיות האדם שלהם. אז למדתי תמיד להיכנע לאחרים ומה שהם רוצים, להשתיק את עצמנו, רק להסתיר דברים ולעשות כל מה שהאדם האחר רצה לא לפגוע ברגשות או לגרום לתגובות של כעס בלתי צפויות. זה גרם לי הרבה בעיות ליצור גבולות בחיים ולדבר על הרגשות שלי. לא היו לי גבולות לפני כן. נתתי לאנשים לחפש נווד קורבן בכל חלקי. למדתי תמיד לומר כן. להרגיש מחויבים. למדתי לחייך כשלא רציתי לחייך. זה להגדיר אותי על כך שאין הערכה עצמית ואין שום יכולת לתקשר או לקבוע גבולות. והגבולות הם המגנים של הנשמה. הנשמה היא רכושך וכזה הוא גם רכושו של אלוהים. חשוב להגן עליו. העולם צריך פחות בושה. פחות טינה. הבושה המרפא באה מתוך אמפתיה. ריפוי טינה מגיע דרך גבולות בריא תקשורת. ואלה באים רק באהבה. גבולות ואמפתיה הם ביטויים של אהבה. אהבה עצמית ואהבת הזולת. בקיץ שעבר הייתי באותו זמן בירדן ליד שולחן, מתווכח עם אישה טורקית שסיפרה לי שעמוק עמוק בתוכי ידעתי שיש אלוהים. טענתי שאין. אין פלא שנפלתי למקום כה חשוך. העצמי שלי היה להיות rewired. הרגשתי כאילו אני יודע כל כך הרבה, אבל ידעתי כל כך מעט. אני בטח אומר את אותו דבר בעוד שנה מעכשיו על העצמי הנוכחי שלי. I am also learning to release the feeling of carrying my parent's burdens. It's very hard. I just see their marriage issues more clearly than ever now but in the end, it's their issues to fix and not mine. I cannot carry their worries too. It pains me to see their lack of love and complete absence of communication to one another. How they lie to each other and silence themselves to spare hard conversations and how they have let resentment towards each other build for decades. I never want a sexless, loveless marriage devoid of communication. I see all my mom has sacrificed and how she looks to my dad for an ounce of male attention or emotional feedback, but he doesn't even notice. She doesn't have friends and she's lonely. He runs away to fix cars at the neighbor's every night leaving her lonely and frustrated. Then he won't take care of himself and can barely use his right arm anymore because he never got help when he fell years ago and messed up his shoulder. He won't lose the weight. He won't get his hernias fixed. He's getting old so these issues will only worsen and shorten his life. And he just sits for hours in front of the television everyday. They say nasty things to eachother. They never touch. There is barely any eye contact between them anymore. How sad to see him not look at her when she speaks. But they both refuse to change, I cannot stand it. I want more for them but I guess they have to want it for themselves. That is one of the reasons why I said for so long I didn't want to get married or have kids. I figured that's how most marriages are, which is actually true sadly. It's why half of marriages end in divorce and most of the others just remain unhappily married due to finances or religion or status and then they commit adultry or simply exist in the bitterness of unhappiness. And so I'm always learning to love and to have faith and trust instead of worry. That's the unity of every human's karmic path in life. To try to reflect the perfection of God's love. So what I can do is love them, be an example and also never let this happen to me. It's certainly a difficult process to let go as I tend to take on other's pain. But I will learn. אני גם לומד לשחרר את התחושה של נשיאת הנטל של הורי. זה מאוד קשה. אני פשוט רואה את הנישואים שלהם בעיות יותר ברור מאשר אי פעם עכשיו אבל בסופו של דבר, זה הבעיות שלהם לתקן ולא שלי. גם אני לא מסוגלת לשאת את הדאגות שלהם. כואב לי לראות את חוסר האהבה ואת העדר מוחלט של תקשורת אחד לשני. איך הם שוכבים זה לזה ומשתיקים את עצמם כדי לחסוך שיחות קשות וכיצד הם נותנים טינה זה לזה לבנות במשך עשרות שנים. אני אף פעם לא רוצה נישואים נטולי סקס, חסרי אהבה, נטולי תקשורת. אני רואה את כל אמא שלי יש הקריב ואיך היא נראית לאבא שלי עבור אונקיה של תשומת לב גברית או משוב רגשי, אבל הוא אפילו לא שם לב. אין לה חברים והיא בודדה. הוא בורח לתקן את המכונית בכל לילה של השכן משאיר אותה בודדה ומתוסכלת. ואז הוא לא יטפל בעצמו, ובקושי יוכל להשתמש בזרועו הימנית משום שמעולם לא קיבל עזרה כשהוא נפל לפני שנים ופישל את כתפו. הוא לא יאבד את המשקל. הוא לא יקבע את הבליטות שלו. הוא מזדקן, כך שהנושאים האלה רק יחמירו ויעצרו את חייו. והוא פשוט יושב שעות מול הטלוויזיה כל יום. הם אומרים דברים מגעילים זה לזה. הם אף פעם לא נוגעים. בקושי יש קשר עין ביניהם. כמה עצוב לראות אותו לא להביט בה כשהיא מדברת. אבל שניהם מסרבים להשתנות, אני לא יכול לסבול את זה. אני רוצה יותר עבורם, אבל אני מניח שהם צריכים לרצות את זה בעצמם. זו אחת הסיבות שאמרתי כל כך הרבה זמן שאני לא רוצה להתחתן או שיש לי ילדים. חשבתי שככה רוב הנישואים הם, וזה בעצם נכון בעצב. זה למה חצי הנישואין מסתיימים בגירושין, ורוב האחרים פשוט נשארים נשואים באומללות בגלל כספים או דת או מעמד ואז הם מתחייבים לבוגרים או פשוט להתקיים במרירות של אומללות. וכך אני תמיד לומד לאהוב ולהיות בעל אמונה ובטחון במקום לדאוג. זוהי אחדותו של כל נתיב קרמתי בחיים האנושיים. לנסות לשקף את שלמות אהבת האל. אז מה שאני יכול לעשות זה לאהוב אותם, להיות דוגמה וגם לא לתת לזה לקרות לי. זה בהחלט תהליך קשה להרפות כפי שאני נוטה לקחת על עצמו את הכאב של אחרים. אבל אני אלמד.

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