#anyway have faith pretending to be rachel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

songsofacagedbird · 3 years ago

Photo

you’re something out of a dream

a love letter to luxor’s balo driskell

While I think tissues are needed at this point for all three of these playlists, can I just say with Balo’s I think they’re especially needed? Maybe I’m just extra soft for Balo in general but hers personally made me the most emotional, she definitely went hard with this one. Anyway, it covers the entire Luxor timeline for her just about, major plot points and stuff, but a bit less so the reveal of her main secret that occurred during graduation honestly - as this playlist was made before that and given it took me ages to perfect the end, I’m just going to leave it be.

Again, there’s references to other muses / plot points littered throughout, as well as references to eating disorders and a couple nicer things like her love for art. I’d also like to thank Lex for her help during these playlists, from the idea itself to helping me test listen yet again, this is going to be a pattern in these descriptions and I’m sorry for anyone who like “Katie stfu” already but genuinely it’s really thanks to her that these even exist and honestly they’re actually some of the playlists I am most proud of to date.

Please keep in mind that the standard Balo triggers apply (mental health, eating disorders, abuse / child abuse). Any additional tws will be noted on their sections if they apply.

in dreams you will lose your heartaches. whatever you wish for, you keep | pre-luxor (aka pre-rp):

balo before luxor, navigating her life

Song of the Caged Bird (Lindsey Stirling) [ instrumental ] // Castle On A Cloud (Isabelle Allen) [ I know a place where no ones lost. I know a place where no one cries. Crying at all is not allowed, not in my castle on a cloud. ] // Paint the Pictures (of Verona) [ I paint the picture of the oceans I'll never see. I hold a candle through the darkness so I believe. ] // almost home (mxmtoon) [ No one ever says all the love you give might not be enough. Broke my heart in two a couple times before it hurt too much. ] // A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes (Lily James) [ Have faith in your dreams and someday your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing the dream that you wish will come true. ]

does it hurt to see how our smiles have changed, my friend? | summer & fall 2019:

the period of time I was playing Balo in Luxor originally, from June 2019 right up until her intervention in October

Friends In The Corner (Foxes) [ Do you need someone? Everybody's looking like they need someone. All of my friends in the corner, everybody's looking like they need someone. Pretending we don't fear the morning. ] // Scars To Your Beautiful (Alessia Cara) [ She says, “beauty is pain and there's beauty in everything. What's a little bit of hunger? I could go a little while longer,” she fades away. ] // Never Gonna Let You Down (Colbie Caillat) [ I'm never gonna let you down, I'm always gonna build you up. When you're feeling lost, I will always find you, love. ] // Running with the Wolves (AURORA) [ There's blood on your lies, the scars open wide. There is nowhere for you to hide, the hunter's moon is shinin'. ] // She Is the Sunlight (Trading Yesterday) [ And it will take this life of regret for my heart to learn to forget. Tomorrow will be as it always has been, and I will fall to her again. ]

you keep trying to get inside my head while i keep trying to lose the words you said | winter 2019 & early Spring 2020:

Balo’s hospitalization, and the time at home following it.

All the King's Horses (Karmina) [ Is it still a home when you're all alone? All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put me back together again. ] // Safe (Britt Nicole) [ Oh no, my walls are gonna break. So close, it's more than I can take. I'm so tired of turning and running away. ] // Lost Boy (Ruth B.) [ There was a time when I was alone, no where to go and no place to call home. My only friend was the man in the moon, and even sometimes he would go away too. ] // Keep Your Head Up (Ben Howard) [ 'Cause I'll always remember you the same, eyes like wild flowers with your demons of change. ] // Wake Me Up (Madilyn Bailey) [ They tell me I'm too young to understand. They say I'm caught up in a dream. My life will pass me by if I don't open up my eyes, well that's fine by me. ] // Dance (Foxes) [ I want you, got no shame. This therapy's gone to waste; when the midnight hour comes in vain, you're in my head, you say my name. ]

what the fuck are perfect places anyway? | spring 2020:

Balo’s return to Luxor, leading up to her breakdown at prom additional tws: drugs and alcohol (perfect places)

Good Day for Dreaming (Ruelle) [ There's a hope, there's a spark, there's a fire. There's a light in the dark burning brighter. It's a good day for dreaming. ] // Perfect Places (Lorde) [ All of our heroes fading, now I can't stand to be alone. Let's go to perfect places! ] // prom dress (mxmtoon) [ I'm sitting here, crying in my prom dress. I'd be the prom queen if crying was a contest. Makeup is running down, feelings are all around. How did I get here? I need to know... ]

i would sell my sorry soul if i could have it all | summer 2020:

summer camp adventures, and the starts of questioning who she is

Live Life (Zayde Wølf) [ Sometimes I think that I'm the dreamer, the one that's standing all alone. Sometimes it feels like it's forever since I've truly felt at home. ] // Celeste (Ezra Vine) [ You're something out of a dream, messing with my head and I've been looking for you. Are you hiding? ] // The State of Dreaming (MARINA) [ If only you knew my dear, how I live my life in fear. ] // If Only (Dove Cameron) [ If only I knew what my heart was telling me. Don't know what I'm feeling; is this just a dream? If only I could read the signs in front of me, I could find the way to who I'm meant to be. ]

my heart can't possibly break when it wasn't even whole to start with | fall & winter 2020:

balo’s disownment, her breakup with kitty, and coming to terms with them

raindrops {an angel cried} (Ariana Grande) [ The day you left me, an angel cried. ] // Because of You (Kelly Clarkson) [ I was so young, you should have known better than to lean on me. You never thought of anyone else, you just saw your pain, and now I cry in the middle of the night for the same damn thing. ] // human (Christina Perri) [ Your words in my head, knives in my heart, you build me up and then I fall apart 'cause I'm only human. ] // Illusion (Zedd feat. Echosmith) [ It feels like the fairytale is over. I really wanted these pages to begin with once upon a time like all those lullabies. I should've known better. ] // Cry (Kelly Clarkson) [ Is this as hard as it gets? Is this what it feels like to really cry? ] // drivers license (Olivia Rodrigo) [ Sidewalks we crossed. I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing over all the noise. God, I'm so blue, know we're through, but I still fuckin' love you. ] // Until The Sun Comes Up (Gabrielle Aplin) [ Do you want to get lost? Go waste our time, lose this city skyline. Be so much better if you're by my side, find myself and lose my mind; think I need a moment to re-align. ] // Part Of Me (Katy Perry) [ Throw your sticks and your stones, throw your bombs and your blows but you're not gonna break my soul. ] // Love Not Loving You (Foxes) [ You were always giving me all of your insecurities. How could you do it? You knew what you were doing to me. ] // no tears left to cry (Ariana Grande) [ Right now, I'm in a state of mind I wanna be in like all the time, ain't got no tears left to cry. ]

you forgive, you forget, but you never let it go | spring 2021:

her classmates choice in the gym, and it’s aftermath additional tws: drowning (When the Storm is Over)

Bad Blood (Taylor Swift feat. Kendrick Lamar) [ Remember when you thought I'd take a loss? Don't you remember? You thought that I would need ya, follow procedure, remember? Oh, wait, you got amnesia. ] // Talking to Ghosts (Foxes) [ And I can be your guiding light if you just let me, but I can’t be your guiding light if you have left me. ] // When The Storm Is Over (Sofia Karlberg) [ But when it comes down something in the air says we're 'bout to drown. Baby, we wеren't meant for closure, tеll me when the storm is over. ] // Try (Colbie Caillat) [ You don't have to try so hard, you don't have to give it all away. You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up, you don't have to change a single thing ] // Still Have Me (Demi Lovato) [ So take my faith but 'least I still believe (I still believe, in me), and that's all I need. I don't have much but 'least I still have me. ]

and i don't really care if nobody else believes ‘cause i've still got a lot of fight left in me | early summer 2021:

the story of therapy, the start of recovery, learning to love oneself, and a little bit of romance.

Daisies - Acoustic (Katy Perry) [ They told me I was out there, tried to knock me down. Took those sticks and stones, showed 'em I could build a house. They tell me that I'm crazy, but I'll never let 'em change me 'til they cover me in daisies. ] // Home (Gabrielle Aplin) [ I'm a phoenix in the water, a fish that's learnt to fly. And I've always been a daughter but feathers are meant for the sky. ] // Change (Taylor Swift) [ ’Cause these things will change, can you feel it now? These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down. ] // Dear Happy (Gabrielle Aplin) [ Don't you worry, oh no, don't be alarmed. I'm just working it out here, working it out here. I'm somebody with a recovering heart, you've waited there for me, keep waiting there for me. ] // Fight Song (Rachel Platten) [ And all those things I didn't say, wrecking balls inside my brain. I will scream them loud tonight, can you hear my voice this time? ] // Catch My Breath (Kelly Clarkson) [ Catching my breath, letting it go, turning my cheek for the sake of the show. Now that you know, this is my life, I won't be told what's supposed to be right. ] // Wildflowers (Elle Fanning) [ Wildflowers you brought me are crumbled in my hands. This love that you taught me, I still don't understand. ] // Begin Again (Taylor Swift) [ And for the first time, what's past is past. 'Cause you throw your head back laughing like a little kid, I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did. ] // Let's Sort The Whole Thing Out (Carly Rae Jepsen) [ I love you, this is a new thing. One more drink, let's get to the bottom of it. I love you, let's sort the whole thing out. ] // Youth (Foxes) [ And as we cross the line, these fading beats have all been severed. Don't tell me our youth is running out, it's only just begun. ] // Soft to Be Strong (MARINA) [ I took my bitterness and made it sweet, I took a broken heart and made it beat. ] // Way Less Sad (AJR) [ Don't you love it? Don't you lovе it? No, I ain't happy yet, but I'm way less sad. ]

#musings ( playlists )#a dream is a wish your heart makes ( musings )#eating disorder tw #abuse tw #child abuse tw #disownment tw #drugs tw #alcohol tw #drowning tw

8 notes · View notes

nooneelsecomesclose17 · 4 years ago

Text

You are the absolute best idea I ever had - part 1

Ok so I’m still not sure about doing the chapter thing because it’s been so long since I wrote anything I have no idea how long my inspiration will last (or my fingers for that matter) but let’s go for it. *bites nails nervously*

Thanks as always to @amandaj718 for listening to me ramble about this and convincing me it was a good idea. It’s based on Red, White and Royal Blue, probably fairly loosely in some bits and more in others. We’ll see.

(They’re a similar age here and about Aaron’s age on the show when they met, maybe a bit younger, but it’s not vitally important)

AO3 Link

*******

Robert looked round the room as he dumped his bag on the bed. It did look comfortable he supposed, but that didn’t mask the fact that he didn’t want to be here. The room itself was nothing special, nothing like most people would expect in the home of the British Prime Minister he had no doubt. It was bigger than he expected, no doubt thanks to the Blairs and their renovations back in the day. It wasn’t his home though. He had a flat, a perfectly nice flat in the middle of the city that suited him and yet here he was.

“You’re here then.” He turns to see his Dad standing in the doorway, suit as immaculate as always. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look casual, even when his Mum used to force him into a sweater or polo shirt during the summer.

“You didn’t give me much choice.” He’d expected the call, as soon as he’d woken up to a phone full of news notifications. He supposes it’s not every day the son of one of the most popular Prime Ministers in recent history is caught red handed with the sister of his beloved wife. It didn’t matter that in private their marriage had been over for months, that Chrissie was already with someone else. No, he was the one at fault, all manner of rumours doing the rounds, because they’d kept their separation private so as not to harm his father’s reputation.

What rankled most, as it had most of his life, was that his Dad hadn’t even called himself, not even his closest assistant had been the one to make the call, a lowly staffer was all he got, telling him that ‘the PM thinks it best you move into 10 Downing Street for the foreseeable’.

It wasn’t that he wanted to be front page news, he didn’t go looking for it like some, but ever since his father had swept to power on a promise of reuniting the country, the press had been on him like bees round a honeypot, half the time making up their own gossip without him even leaving his living room. He wasn’t like his brother, the fine upstanding Andy, who still ran the farm that their Dad had grown up on, Andy with the sick daughter who everyone doted on, including Robert, he’s not that terrible a human being. Then there was Vic, the darling of the press, who smiled and waved every time she left the building, who would often take some of her newest creations out to the waiting press gaggle for them to try. Robert was just trying to live his life, but that wasn’t good enough, never had been.

“I need you to come with me tonight. I think it would be a good idea for people to see you doing some good for a change. Diane is already attending a charity event.”

“Where is it?”

“The palace. Be ready for 7.” He turned to leave. “And Robert, I don’t want any silliness, not like last time.”

Honestly, you get slightly merry one time at a Downing Street party and you never hear the end of it. It’s not like he declared war on anyone, he just, well he might’ve broken a vase. It was hideous anyway and deserved to be broken, but apparently it’d been a gift from some country or other that the country needed to trade with. Robert really didn’t think that trade deals depended on a frankly ugly piece of china but as had been pointed out to him many many times he knew nothing about politics and should keep his nose out.

It wasn’t that he was politically ignorant, he voted, he read the news, he researched anything that might be relevant to him or his job, but after years of hearing his parents fighting because his Dad was forever away from home or spending more time sorting out his constituents problems than those in his own family, as far as he was concerned the whole thing was a pantomime. The happy family that had stood on the steps outside, smiling and waving, was nothing but a charade. He and Andy barely spoke, which was fine by him, his Dad could barely stand the sight of him and Diane and Victoria just wanted them all to get along and that meant Robert should shut up and get on with it.

“Robert?” He stops unpacking and turns to see his little sister leaning on the doorframe, hair done up in her usual braid, already coming loose at the front. She’s holding a plate in her hand, his favourite flavour of doughnut sitting proudly on top. He’s missed her. The downside to avoiding his Dad is that he doesn’t see her as much as he likes.

“Hiya trouble.” He pulls her into a hug. “That for me?”

“Thought you might need it. Dad said you were going with him tonight?” She hands him the plate before bouncing on the bed. Sometimes it’s hard to believe she’s a fully fledged adult.

“Not willingly.” He mumbles around his food. “This ’s good.”

“It’s boring is what it is. Why won’t you try some of my other flavours?”

“Because you do not mess with jam doughnuts Vic. Some things have to remain sacred in this world.” He smiles a little at her huff and licks the sugar from his fingers before joining her on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go tonight?”

“I went last time. Besides, it’ll give you the chance to stare at you know who all night.” He groans, regretting once more the late night conversation a few years ago when he was still living at home.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Debatable. Anyway I don’t want to stare at anyone, least of all him.”

“So the words His Royal Hotness didn’t pass your lips?”

“Vodka had passed my lips.”

“So you don’t fancy the second in line to the throne then?” He shakes his head at her, irritated but loving her all the same. She was the only one of them who knew he was bi, well no, he supposed his Dad did even if they’d never actually managed a conversation. He idly wonders what it’d be like to tell everyone what had happened, the see the scales fall from the eyes of the nation about their perfect leader. He’d never do it, would never hurt Vic like that, but sometimes the look on his Dad’s face if he did would comfort him somehow.

“No!” He could admit, if pushed that Aaron was good looking, he wasn’t blind, but so were lots of people.

“Hm.”

“The man never smiles Vic. Last year, at his cousin’s wedding, did you even see him without a scowl?”

“You took notice of him then?” He half heartedly smacks her arm, making her laugh. “I’m glad you’re here, Rob, I missed you.”

“I’ve been here.” It’s lame, because he hasn’t, not really.

“I mean more than a couple of texts and a phone call once a month. How long are you going to be here?”

“Until I’m not grounded anymore.”

“Idiot. I’m going, Adam’s picking me up at 4.” She’s gone before he can even ask who Adam is. It just proves how distant he’s been from her and he feels guilty all over again.

*******

“I meant what I said Robert, best behaviour tonight. I think you’ve made enough headlines with your dalliances for a while, don’t you?” It’s on the tip of his tongue to drag up Rachel, something else that no one knows but family, but he stops himself. It’s not worth the hassle. Hopefully if he gets through tonight he won’t be asked again for a long while.

“Just once it’d be nice if you pretended to have even an ounce of faith in me. You do know Chrissie is right now shacked up with someone else, don’t you? And was before I went anywhere near Rebecca.”

“No one cares about that. Just behave yourself. Is that too much to ask? This isn’t just some party, it’s the Queen and her family. Show some respect.”

Privately he thought that Queen Faith looked rather fun and would be quite at home gossiping over a few glasses of red rather than endlessly shaking hands but he keeps it to himself as they pull up the gates of the palace. He can’t help looking up at the building a little in awe. He’s wouldn’t really class himself as a monarchist, but he doesn’t wish any of them any ill, and he watches all the pomp and ceremony on TV like everyone else. He just doesn’t particularly want to spend the night minding his P’s and Q’s because he’s really not all that good at it.

He takes a deep breath as the car stops and the door is opened. As he watches his Dad step out he can’t help but think his world has really taken a turn in the last 24 hours.

#I am incredibly nervous #because it's been a year almost #but here you go #enjoy #i'm taking liberties with lots about politics and the royals but hey who doesn't #right?#robron fic

38 notes · View notes

jimmigmalingan · 4 years ago

Text

Her Name Is Not “baby”, It’s JANET.

It’s not “Miss Jackson if you’re nasty” either, although just as iconic.

What better way to celebrate Women’s Month than to get to know a great embodiment of a strong and powerful woman. In fact, so strong and so powerful that my instinctive reaction when I first saw the invite to her journalism class was “Oh no.”

That was the G-Rated version of it actually. Nevertheless, same message.

I barely even knew who she was or what her teaching style was going to be like. Her G-suite display picture just exuded “Oh no” energy. I mean that as a compliment.

I went straight to my friend from elementary school who shifted to Communication a year earlier than I did. I said “Do you have any tea on her?” The first thing he told me was that she had very high standards.

I like that, actually.

Back when I was in high school, which seems like very long time despite only having been a whopping three years, those were the types of teachers that I would consider my favorite ones. Ma’am Rachel from my English class, and Ma’am Elma from my Research and Biology class. Both of which actually went on to be school heads in different schools after we graduated.

I’m just here thinking to myself “God, I would’ve been excelling at her class if it isn’t for this stupid pandemic.” I clearly am not. We will get to that soon.

When we had the chance to organize an interview as a class, it invigorated me a tad bit. This is the closest I can get to having human interaction in an academic sense, but it was also my chance to have an idea or two of who ‘Janet Tibaldo’ was. Is she going to be the bane of my existence for the next four or so years or is she going to be alongside the people who I consider to be my “heroes”?

To my surprise, she’s very, well... human.

From what I’ve gathered in both of the interviews, our class’ and the other, she is a woman of strength. She is a passionate educator, a dedicated mother, and most of all, a woman of faith and devotion. In both of the interviews, she often emphasizes the importance of the “vertical relationship” in her life, and how it can have a positive effect in one’s horizontal relationships.

I do appreciate those remarks from her quite a bit, despite me having a rockier and more complex relationship with God as a queer person. I never considered myself an atheist. I do believe in God, and I believe that I am loved by God, despite knowing that people out there will try to convince me otherwise.

How could he possibly hate me when I pray to him too and he answers them just the same? It makes absolutely no sense to me.

When she said that you can fix your horizontal relationships once your vertical relationship is stable, it did strike a cord just as much as it struck a verve in me. I am trying to. It took me a while, but nevertheless I’m glad that I am here.

She often described herself as “strict”, both as a parent and an educator. It often surprises me how much bombardment my friend from elementary experiences from her subjects. The way he describes it to me sounds a bit like torture. I always took his words about her with a grain of salt. I will probably never believe him until I experience it first hand. He did say I was lucky that I shifted during online classes because she is a bit more lenient, otherwise I would’ve been dead meat.

If she was the monster that she’s painted out to be, I do understand why. It’s not like I don’t have a maternal figure or two in my life with eerily similar approaches. Like I said, she is a bit more human than what one would expect. She talked about her sleepless nights to dedicate herself onto her work, how she takes it upon herself when things go wrong, and how she said she hopes for a better and more empathetic world when I asked about her hopes for the future. To me she sounds like a person who stands her ground and knows exactly what she wants, even if it gets the best of her at times.

With that, she shared a peek of her younger days, how she spent her childhood during the Martial Law era, how newscasters on TV sparked her interest in the field of Communication, how in her college days they made do with the resources they had back then, emphasizing how lucky we are to have the technology we have now, how she was an activist back in the day. It painted a picture in my mind. Ahhh. No wonder.

There has always been ‘fire’ inside of her. A fire that lead her to be an educator today, despite having left the path of being a media practitioner.

I did think about it a couple of times. If being a visual artist doesn’t work out for me, maybe I’ll just teach. To me, it looks fun. She did say that she never thought in a million years that she would end up becoming a teacher because she thought it looked boring. According to her, lot of her family members ended up becoming teachers and she never wanted to be one of them. Maybe there’s some ugly parts of it that I don’t get to see, but it seems like a much more stable career path than visual arts, especially in a country like this.

Just from the interviews alone, you can tell that she has so much wisdom to offer in this field. That makes me all the more excited to meet her in person. If anything, there’s your proof right there that God is out there writing poetic justice for people. Maybe it was God’s way of saying “I have something better in mind for you, you just have to trust me.”

Another standout from the interviews was when she told all of us as a piece of advice that we should grab opportunities as they come. Oftentimes, the biggest regrets you have in life aren’t the things you did but the things you didn’t do. I have to admit, the main reason why this music video is taking too long to make is because of self doubt and insecurity. She’s right. I should toughen up a bit, shouldn’t I? Not only that, but there’s a lot of competitions that I found interesting in the facebook group that I just allowed to pass me by. I don’t want to blame my years in Architecture for it, because it did cause me some good. It’s just that I knew what I was running away from after years of feeling like I will never amount to anything.

I knew that. If anything I was way bolder when I left high school, only for Architecture to beat me down. It does take someone like her to remind me of who I was then.

When I was going through my depressive episode late last year, ultimately leading me to shift to Communication, I found myself seeking refuge in the music of Janet Jackson. As a matter of fact, I shared her music to the same friend I mentioned earlier, and now he’s a fan too. We’d often joke about which Janet we were talking about in the conversation.

On one hand, we have Janet the popstar, who despite being blacklisted by Bush’s racist and misogynistic America, kept on going. She kept performing and making music for as recent as 2018, and now she’s inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. On the other, we have Janet the teacher, who keeps holding on to her faith despite all of the trials and challenges that came her way all these years.

What’s it about Janets being fiery passionate women anyway?

That actually leads me to my next point of interest.

What moved me the most about both of the interviews was her openness about her struggles with mental health, and how she refers students to seek help as well back when classes were physical. I don’t think conversations like these were possible back in the day, especially when I was a child. Apparently I didn’t have ADHD I was just an idiot, and people like me get punished for their idiocy. That was my upbringing, and it’s so refreshing to know that kids nowadays are lucky to have a ‘zeitgeist’ like this.

I was brought up for the longest time in the idea that if you show any signs of vulnerability, you are weak. It took some time for me to ‘rewire’ my brain and undo all of that...

because that is blatantly false.

If anything, for me, it further solidified how strong she was. It takes so much strength to admit that you’re human. It takes so much courage to tell yourself that you probably need help because you struggle in this aspect of your life. It is so easy to pretend that you can take everything like a champ and you don’t need anyone to help you.

The easy route was to say “I’m fine” or “I’m doing good” when asked a simple question “How are you?”, the hard route is to ask yourself that same question “How am I?” and be honest and introspective about it.

She did just that. She took the hard route.

She said she was having trouble sleeping and that she had to consult a mental heath expert for that recently, and that this pandemic made it particularly hard for her to juggle work and home matters.

I don’t think she will ever understand how a simple statement like that inspires someone like me, because what I got from that was ‘if somebody as strong and as passionate as her bleeds the same way that I do, I too can be strong like her.’

I just booked my appointment to my therapist yesterday. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. It’s nice to know that I’m not alone in this, despite going there for feeling alone. Ironic, isn’t it? I feel like I’m running out of friends, and it’s starting to feel like paralysis, really.

After the interview ended, and I finished watching the interview from the other block, I couldn’t grasp the idea of this woman being taken as a monster, because the only words I could think of in association to her thus far is ‘uplifting’ and ‘inspiring’, in the same way that Ma’am Rachel was one of the people who inspired me to be a a cartoonist and Ma’am Elma inspired me to be a competitive dancer.

I had to give up three years worth of friendships to start back from scratch and to be here. I was actually so unsure if it was even worth the sacrifice, but Ma’am Janet Tibaldo, out of all people, showed me something to look forward to in this field. Based on what I’ve gathered from her, I’m up for a good time.

3 notes · View notes

chiibinomonodamon · 5 years ago

Text

Doujinshi Translation

This is an AU where Gray takes Rachel in as a Sister to his church and she meets Zack in a different way!

*There is nothing sexual in the book.

*Trigger warnings: Off-screen animal cruelty :(

'Kami-sama Ga Shinda Hi Umareta Hi'

The Day God Died, God is Born by Tokiko Nao

Translation by Chiibi. Please do not repost and do not make scanlations without crediting me. (I am not sure about every single line but I’d like to see someone else do it better :D hahaha:p)

Kami-sama Ga Shinda Hi, Umareta Hi Page 01 Ray: Oh Lord... God...please...somehow... Page 02 [door creaks] Gray: Rachel Ray: Oh, Father. Good morning. Gray: Good morning. [shuts door] Gray: Have you finished your morning duty? Ray: Yes. Gray: You have much enthusiasm. This is very good. Ray: Not at all. (Note: She isn't disagreeing; the polite thing to do in Japan when someone gives you a compliment is to be humble instead of saying 'thank you') Ray: It is only natural for one who serves the Lord. Gray: Is that so. I've prepared breakfast for you. Please eat before it gets cold. Ray: Yes. Thank you very much. Child: FATHER! Page 03 Gray: My, what is wrong? You are all in such a rush... Child: Father, please help us! This little guy collapsed near the church. He's not moving and he's hurt... [sniff sniffle] At this rate, he'll die... Ray: It's okay. His wound is not serious... If we treat him and give him something to eat and keep him warm while he sleeps... he will get better in no time. So do not worry. [fluf] The church will look after him.

Page 04 Kids: Thank you, Onee-chan! We won't have to worry with Father here, right!? Gray: Well then, I shall leave him to you. Do let me know if you need anything. Kids: I know! Let's give him a name! Ray: Right. >: How about 'Max'? >: Whaaaaaat, that's so plain! Ray: You'll be all right now. Page 05 Ray thinking: He's later than usual... For the evening sermon... A person...? He's asleep. Who could it be at this hour... Oh well...this is a public place after all... Another day comes to an end. And yet... Lord God...

Page 06 Has not come to meet me today either... Zack: That's a boring prayer. Is this really that fun for ya, little miss? [yawn]

Page 07 Ray: Who...are you? What are you doing here... Could you be a thief? >: Zack Gray: So you've come here after all. I thought you would. Would you like to eat supper? I am preparing it now but... Zack: Don't need it. Just came here to take a break. [slams door] Ray: Father...who is that man...? Gray: Oh...he comes to visit this place now and then. To him, this is just a shelter that he doesn't have to pay for. Don't worry about him. Ray: Does he also... Gray: No, he is not a follower of God but... He was chosen by God As an 'angel'. Page 09 Ray thinking: Angel...? But that person... Had the scent of blood on him.

>: You've gotten a lot better, haven't you! Shall we go for a little walk? >: Wuf! >: Ah...you shouldn't run like tha... Page 10 >: Wuf! [spaced out] Ray: You're the... one from before... Zack: And yer... who now? Ray: [POUT]

Page 11 Ray: [still pouting] We met in the church before... Zack: Ah, yer the little miss saying the boring prayers, huh. Ya had a borin' face so I forgot. Ray: My name is Rachel Gardner. [hmph] And you are...Mr...Zack? Was it? (she is using "-san" here) [shudder] Zack: DON'T CALL MY NAME IN THAT CREEPY-ASS WAY! I'LL KILL YA DEAD!! Ray: [twitches] That would be a problem...then what should I call you...? Zack: 'Zack' is fine... Call me that... That's what the shitty priest calls me too... Ray: Zack... Page 12 Ray [sits] Zack, why are you here? Zack: AH!? Ray: I mean, why do you come here sometimes? Zack: whatcha sittin' down for No reason...I guess it's a good place to hide. Ray: From who? Zack: AHHHHHH!? YER SURE ASK A LOTTA QUESTIONS!! SO WHY THE HELL'RE YOU HERE!? Ray: Me? Well, truthfully... My parents died...no. I came here to sacrifice myself to the Lord. I am waiting for that time. Zack: Oh I see. Ray: [pout] Why did you ask if you don't care? Zack: Keh. I just asked ya back since ya asked me. Page 13 Ray: I see. You're an odd person. Zack: HAAAAAAAAAAH!? I DON'T WANNA HEAR THAT FROM YOU!! Ray: Owwwww [pinch] Zack: YA DON'T SMILE OR ANYTHIN!! ARE THE MUSCLES IN YER FACE DEAD OR SOMETHIN!? [sting] Ray narrates: After that Zack appeared at the church quite frequently. [looking around] >: Max, here's your food! Page 14 >: He would come for several days on end but also not show up for several weeks... >: Maybe he's in the garden... Zack: HEY. >: WUF! [wag wag] Zack: [panting] Keep a good grip on him, will ya! Ray: He was really quite a strange... strange person. So he was playing with you, Zack, huh? That's good. >: Wuf! Zack: NEXT TIME YA GUYS INTERRUPT MY AFTERNOON NAP, I'LL KILL YA DEAD! Ray: But of course he was in the back yard where others can't enter. And he showed up during the night. Max has really bonded with Zack too... Zack: Guess I'll go back to sleep again. Page 15 Ray: I wonder what Zack does outside of this place...? Zack: So? [staaaaaaaaaaaaaare] Whatcha up to, today? Ray: Working in the garden. Are you hiding again? I'm planting new flowers. Zack: Like I care. Killin' time. Ray: I see... Zack: Ya don't have that book today. Even though yer always hangin' onto it. Ray: You mean my Bible? It should be expected that I wouldn't carry it while I'm working in the garden. Are you interested in the Bible? Zack: Keh. Nope...can't even read it anyway. Page 16 Ray: Okay, all done. [pat pat] Zack: That dog ain't here, huh? Ray: Did you come to see him? Zack: IDIOT! NO, I FREAKIN' DIDN'T!! Ray: I thought you'd come to see him quite a lot lately. I see... Zack: LISTEN TO ME, YA LITTLE SHIT!! Child : WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?

Page 17 >: Max is gone!? Whyyy!? Ray: Yes. Someone came to take him in. Child: Darn. We wanted to play with him some more. Child: But at least he went to a fun home, right? That's good! Ray: I know you came here to see him... I am sorry. [door creaks] Gray: Rachel... I'd like to talk with you. Please come with me. Page 18 Gray: I picked this up from the back yard. This is a bad habit of yours. And I've overlooked it many times. But now...why did you kill THIS one? Ray: That puppy really got attached to Zack. I didn't want Zack to take him from me... Page 19 Thus I made him "mine". Gray: Goodness. I am quite disgusted with you. We do not selfishly act to obtain our own desires. [sigh] I knew you were not a vessel for an angel. Ray: Angel...? No...I... That is not what I wish for... Father, in order to sacrifice myself for God, I... Gray: Rachel Page 20 [badum] The God you desire is does not exist here. No matter how much you pray There is no "God" that can meet your conditions. Besides that, you who cannot even be loved by others... think God would actually love you? Ray: No... [tremble] Stop...it. Gray: You are so pitiful. Ray: STOP IT!! Page 21 [dash] [monologue] There is no God for me? That has to be a lie!! Ahh Lord... I... I shouldn't be alive, should I... Lord God... Somehow please...! Because of that? Page 22 Is that why He will not come for me? [panting] Because my God doesn't exist? I won't accept that. Because if I do... I don't want to die while I'm still unsightly!! Will someone kill me? I thought if it was God... The unsightly me would still be accepted. I thought He could kill me and make me beautiful. [rustle] Page 23 "He is an angel". Ray: I might be no good. Do you have a God who accepts you? Zack... >: He always smells of blood. Why... Zack who cannot even read the Bible How can this be...? What's the difference between him and me...? If I make Zack mine... can God make me His own too...? Page 24 Zack: I SAID if ya interrupt my nap, I'd kill ya DEAD, didn't I? [wham] Killin' that dog didn't satisfy ya enough, huh? Little miss. [cough] Ray: Then kill me too! [glare] Serial Killer Issac Foster! Zack: Hah Impressive ya figured it out... Page 25 Ray: Anyone could if they did a little research... You always came to this place right after an incident happened in town... You're hiding from the police, aren't you? And thanks to our priest hiding you here... The most faithful and trusted person in the whole city... Nobody would ever suspect him of harboring a serial killer. [pant pant] Zack: Whatsa matter? Yer chattier than usual today, ain'tcha... [Ray stuggles for breath] Wh...y... 26

Ray: What's the difference between you and me...? [drip drip] : Why does God... Zack: God...? Yer talking about that stuff again? Ray: I... Zack: You pretend to pray... Ray: I was just waiting... Zack: Is that big heavy bible really that important to ya? Ray: For the Lord God to come for me... Zack: Ya got some nerve. Ya intend to only make yourself clean? [grip] Even now ya reek of blood and flesh. 27 Just try it on me. Neither you or I would change! Isn't that right, Ray? Ray: Me...and you...? Zack: Well, I don't rely on God though. All right. I'm outta here. Their search for me is gettin' more serious so I can't visit this place anymore. [wave] See ya. Ray: Tell me, Zack Page 28 If I beg you to kill me will you listen...? Zack: Huh...? I ain't interested in killin' someone with such a borin' face. And I got no intention of bein' used by you. Ray: Then take me with you. I've lost my reason to be here... [drip drip] If I hadn't followed you, I'd just be left behind but If you need, you can use me as a decoy. I'm sure I can be of use to you. So it's okay with me to be killed by you. [flutter] When that time comes Page 29 Kill me, please. Ray thinking: That's right. The one who kills me Page 30 Can be Him. (she is using the kanji for Lord God here) Zack: Hah. This time yer going depend on me instead of God, huh. Ray: But I need someone to rely on ...I guess Plus you might be better than God... Zack: I'm not into the gross habit of purposely killin' someone who wants to die. If ya want me to kill ya, ya gotta work with me first. Help me escape this town. If ya make a better face for me after we've left here That's when... Page 31 I'll kill ya. "Serial killer Issac Foster now suspected of kidnapping" "Is still on the run" "Fearful nights continue"... Ray: That's what it says. Zack: Damn it all! It's YER fault they suspect me of kidnapping now, ain't it! Ray: Kidnapping on top of everything else doesn't really change anything though... It looks like they found out you went to the church. The Father must have stirred up the search for you, somehow. Leaving the town was the right action. Zack: Geeze, whatta pain in the ass. Page 32 Ray: If I'm a burden to you, you can kill me and go on alone? Zack: Yer all I got, ya know!? They would trace ya all the way to here, wouldn't they? Ray: Well spotted. [sigh] [ARGH!!] Zack: STOP ASKING ME STUPID BORING CRAP!! THINK ABOUT WHAT TO DO ABOUT THIS SHIT GOIN' ON NOW!! IT'S BAD!! [lol sirens] Ray: This is because you act without thinking about where you are, Zack... But I'll do my best. So you will kill me.

#satsuriku no tenshi #doujinshi #my translations #angels of death #angels of slaughter #issac foster #rachel gardner #abraham gray

50 notes · View notes

intheforest-hides-a-light · 5 years ago

Text

A New Family | Part 1

Synopsis: Rachel Jessop’s life changes forever the day she meets Joseph Seed, and the seven years that follow are not at all how she expected them to be.

((So tumblr removed all my text from this post when I went to add a hashtag so here I am pasting it back in again *cries* there’s probably errors now haha))

Rating: M

Genre: Angst, Drama, pre-canon

Characters: Faith Seed (Rachel Jessop), Tracey Lader, Joseph Seed + others

Warnings: abuse, drug use, thoughts of suicide, implied sex

Length of Part 1: 6.5k Total Length: TBD

Disclaimer: I don’t own FC5 or its characters, only thing that’s mine is my writing.

a/n: Basically my take on Faith’s story as seen from her eyes. Who she is, how she ended up with PEG and why she stayed. Wrote this waaayy before all the “Did Joseph exploited Faith” drama came about. I’ve always been intrigued by their relationship/power dynamic so this delves into that as the story progresses. Also gets into the role that the Faiths play and why Rachel is different. Enjoy!

-------

I count the bruises on my arms and legs as I cry alone in my bedroom. Three on the right leg, two on the left. Four on the right arm, five on the left. I haven’t looked at myself in the mirror today but I am sure that my left eye is completely black and blue. There are fingernail scratches along my collarbones. Are they from my dad or from my brother? I don’t remember. I don’t want to remember. I run my fingers through my hair. Masses of strands fall out in clumps. Is it from being dragged across the kitchen last night? Or is it from the incident in the girls’ locker room two days ago? I don’t remember. I don’t want to remember.

I turn my nightstand around, looking for a secret stash of weed I keep hidden in case of emergencies. I find the plastic bag, but it is practically empty. There have been a lot of emergencies in the last three weeks. My backpack is sitting by the door. I head over to it and search the inner secret pocket. Another ziplock bag, empty except for a white powdery residue. I go into the bathroom, open up the lower cabinet door, feel around the upper inside and pull out another bag hidden between the pipe and the wall. Syringes. Empty.

My phone chimes. It’s Tracey. I hesitate to pick up. Deep down all I want is to talk to someone. Tell someone that it happened again, that I am back at the beginning, that no matter how much courage I try to muster up I keep falling back to this same place, dirt low, forgotten. Beaten. The only way up is getting high. That’s the only escape I know.

Tracey doesn’t need drugs like I need drugs. Tracey doesn’t depend on a leafy plant, or a fine white powder or a needle to numb her pain. Tracey is much stronger than me.

I swallow hard and pick up my phone, “Hi, Tracey.”

“Hey girl, how you holding up?”

Just hearing her ask the question shatters me. I hold in my sob, but my voice comes out shaky and weak, “I’m...not...not great.”

“What’s going on?”

“It was bad yesterday. It was really bad.”

“Your dad? Your brother?”

My father is a pharmacist. Yet somehow, right after mom died, his years of education magically disappeared and he quit his job to start experimenting with homeopathic medicine. Since then things haven’t been so easy. He makes no money. We’re living in debt. He’s looking for a cure for my autistic brother. I try to tell him, because he won’t listen to his graduate degree, that it’s impossible, that David is going to stay that way forever and the only thing that is going to make it any easier on him is love and education. I tell him that and he beats me up. Whatever he cooks up in his lab only makes my brother angry, violent. I think it’s getting into my father’s head too. Sends him into these fits of rage. I go to bed hearing screaming matches between the two of them. I’m afraid that one morning I will wake up and--

I can’t think about it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t have anymore weed. I can’t break down like this because I don’t have a way up.

“Both.”

“Those bitches from school?”

Don’t think about it, Rachel.

“Uh huh.”

“Oh gosh. I’m sorry girlfriend. Got that secret stash I gave you?” She’s referring to the pot. She doesn’t know about the other two vices.

“All out.”

I hear her sigh, “You know that’s for emergencies only, Rachel. Not for everyday use. You’re supposed to be getting off that stuff, you know? We’re trying to get you better.”

“I know,” I sniff, “I know Trace. Lately it’s been so hard. I just wish there was a way out. I know I’m failing. I know you probably think I’m a failure but I am trying, I’m really trying.”

She chuckles, but I can tell that it is loving, “Hey. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you. OK? I know it isn’t easy. You’re not failing as long as you keep trying. Speaking of which...I think I found a place for us.”

We’ve been planning on running away together, mainly for my sake but also for hers. I need to get away from my dad. And she, well, Tracey’s got it good, but she’s always seeking more from life.

“How far is it?” I inquire.

“Not as far as we hoped, Rach,” she sighs, “Hope County”.

“Well that’s about as local as it gets,” I say with dismay, “What is it?”

“They call themselves Eden’s Gate. The Project at Eden’s Gate.”

“What are they? What do they do?”

“Well they’ve got a sermon tonight at the Ranch in Holland Valley. I’ll drive. Wanna come and find out?”

“I don’t think my dad will let me.”

“Who said you need his permission? Come on Rachel. We’ve snuck out your bedroom window plenty of times. It’ll be just like the old days.”

I look at my window. Nailed shut with wooden planks. Tracey doesn’t know about my father’s latest attempt to keep me in. My door is always locked. My father keeps the key. I can only go out for meals. Meals that aren’t even worth eating. I eat a scoop of peas for dinner and drink a glass of milk for breakfast. I do have my own bathroom, and my own bedroom, but no connection to the outside world other than my cell phone. Which is why those secret stashes meant so much to me.

“Well...I really think I ought to ask first, just in case,” I look down at my bruised legs, “I can’t afford to get into any more trouble. What do they preach? Maybe I can convince my old man?”

There’s a pause on the other end, “Just tell him they’re Christians. We are going to church.”

“Okay,” I pick at my nails, “I think he’ll be fine with that.”

------

Two hours later, blessed with permission from my unpredictable father, I am trying to cover up my black eye in the mirror. I don’t have a lot of makeup. My mother practically forbade it and my father continued the tradition. The only thing I can wear is concealer when I have a breakout, as every teenager gets. Otherwise he’s scared that I’ll get pregnant. But little does he know, back when Mom was alive, Tracey and I used to waitress at the 8-bit Pizza Bar while we were supposed to be selling girl scout cookies (sixteen is a little old for that anyway, in my opinion). We’d pick up some good looking boys in there from time to time. It didn’t matter that I didn’t wear any makeup. Guess you could say I had that small town charm going for me. Or maybe it was the fact that I was an easy target. I didn’t have a backbone. I still don’t. The boys were genteel enough. Courteous. Charming. But the minute I got into one of their trucks their hands went straight for me. Not the steering wheel. My breasts. Not the stick shift. My thigh. As if they owned it. As if they won it over. As if it was theirs for the taking from the beginning.

I let them take it. I’ve forgotten how much I owe Tracey for all the morning after pills she brought me. Every night after it would happen, I’d throw rocks and her bedroom window. She’d come down to the front and let me in. We’d go to the backyard, sit in the rocking chairs. Tracey would roll two joints and always gave me the bigger one. She meant well by it, like how a grandmother always gives her grandkids the bigger half of a pastry, but for me it did more harm than good. I would take it anyway, inhaling long drags of the stuff and pretending the smoke held the power to disintegrate my memories, my pain. I’d tell Tracey what happened. Every time it was a variation of the same story, with the same ending. She’d listen to me until I was done, until I’d finished crying and letting it all out. Then we would go back inside. She would make chamomile tea and serve it with oatmeal raisin cookies. I always had at least three because of the weed. Then we’d sleep in her big bed upstairs. When I’d wake up I couldn’t even remember the man’s face.

She kept forgiving me over and over again. She tried to teach me how to stand up for myself. She still does. But she also introduced me to drugs. I smoked pot with her but I found my way into other things in the bad parts of town. Coke. Heroin. I do them when I can do them, which is not very often. I can’t afford it and I can’t get out of the house enough anymore. I don’t think Tracey ever thought I’d become dependent on drugs. I know she only wanted to help me escape. But for me, weed was a gateway drug. It opened up a forest of dangers. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I don’t have the self control that she does. Now she’s trying to wean me off of it. But she’s trying to cut off one head of the hydra. I need to smite all three if I want to get over this.

I stare at myself in the mirror. My complexion, once ruddy and bright, is now sickly, with tired eyes, bruises and scars all over. All of this makes me look like a corpse next to the plump small-town beauties full of spirit and life. I am a ghost. I float through the hallways like a ghost. I haunt my bedroom like a ghost.

I wasn’t always a ghost. I used to take care of myself. I’d lost about fifteen pounds since my mother died. My dad’s cooking is shit. Even though weed makes me hungry I never feel the desire to eat anything because nothing tastes good. My brown-blond hair (God couldn’t make up his mind when he made me, you see, at least that is what my mother would to say) used to be shiny with a slight wave to it, now it’s matte, dull, falling out in clumps and frayed awfully at the ends. I want to die. I feel like if I am a ghost I might as well be dead. I think I started doing heavier drugs because of that. Because I want to die, but I am too much of a coward just to kill myself and get it over with. Part of me hopes against hope that by getting out of this house and hopefully out of this town that I will find some reason to live again. I don’t want to be a ghost. If I’m going to live the rest of my life as a ghost I want to make that life brief, tragic and wasteful, like the duration of a tea candle’s flame.

The black eye is still visible. I do not know how many times I’ve applied makeup to it. It’s still there, especially in brighter light. I pull out my tube of concealer and shakily squeeze more unto the back of my hand. The tube farts. It is empty. I begin to roll it like toothpaste, trying to urge the last drops out. A dismal portion exits the tube in another fart. I toss it in the trash and use what I have, religiously applying it to my bruised eye and giving a little to my unaffected eye, trying to make them match as much as possible. It doesn’t reduce the swelling or the pain, but it looks presentable enough. I wish I had some lipstick, anything to put some color in my face.

I am not sure what to wear for this evening. I do not know if this Eden’s Gate church is a “come as you are” sort of thing or if I should put on something a little more presentable than my oversized pajamas. I open my closet. . My father burned half my wardrobe when I missed my curfew by ten minutes one night. But he left the things that my mother passed down to me. Probably some of the few things left that still remind him of her. I find a light green dress she used to wear. Mamma was so pretty. I don’t think I’ll ever be as pretty as she. I put it on regardless. It zips easily, for its rather loose. Just six months ago it was too tight. I was afraid I’d break the zipper. Now there is no I fear of that at all. White lace adorns the sleeves and my cleavage. I debate pulling the neckline down or up.

It’s church, Rachel, I tell myself, Besides, no one will want to look at you anyway.

The last thought bites. It’s a personal truth. I look down and rediscover the scratches. I tug my dress at the back, raising the neckline.

Fortunately the doorbell rings just in time. I leave my bathroom and stop at the door to the hallway.

Once you’ve been in captivity, once you’ve been locked up alone with your thoughts for long enough, once you’ve accepted that you’re stuck, you don’t bother trying doorknobs anymore. You’re used to reaching that hard spot where it stops turning and opens nothing. It takes me a moment to touch the handle. I know it will feel cold. I know the distinct shape it has and how it will fit into the palm of my hand. What I do not know is whether or not it will open. It might reach that hard lock. I might’ve gone through all of this trouble and not be able to leave.

Knowing this, I twist, hoping for the best.

To my relief, it unlocks effortlessly and opens without so much as a creak. I head downstairs to greet my friend.

------

Sitting in the chapel in the ranch, I feel so nervous. My body shivers. My hands shake. My heart pounds. I do not know if it is withdrawal or what. But I am not completely at ease. The people here are disheveled. Messy. Somewhat gross. The kind of person I would become if I let my addiction keep its grip on me. They are the types that my father would advise me to steer away from, however in his current state he is more like them than he knows. I am more like them than he knows

A tall, fit man with a full, well groomed dark beard strides unto the stage in a flourish of applause. He completely contrasts the people sitting in the pews. He is nicely dressed, wearing a fitted blue silk shirt rolled up at the cuffs, black vest, and tight jeans. His belt buckle is exceptionally extravagant. A pendant of some sort hangs from his neck. The crowd cheers for him. He waves, flashing a million dollar smile and a glint in his bright blue eyes. He’s handsome.

I turn and whisper to Tracey, “If I knew that pastors could look as good as he does I would’ve come to church a long time ago.”

She smirks and holds back a giggle, “You’re terrible.”

“He’s hot,” I say, perhaps a bit too loudly.

“Shhhhhh!” She tries not to laugh, “Behave.”

“Who is he?” I ask as if I were inquiring about a handsome stranger across a bar, not a preacher at the front of a church.

“That’s John Seed,” she tells me, “He doesn’t give the sermon. He’s just the opening act.”

“There’s more of them? Tracey, you told me this was church, not that mythical place where all of the hot guys in Hope County disappeared to!”

“Rachel, shut up!” She giggles again, but then whispers to me, “Don’t get your hopes up. He’s as good as they get, well, looks wise.”

“Bummer. That means we’ll have to fight for him.”

“Rachel!”

Our laughter is camouflaged by the cheers and shouts from people in the pews, phrases like “Oh John!” and “We love you!” and “Praise our brother”. I observe the scene. Sometime during our banter two other people entered the stage. One, a very tall, burly, fearsome man with a long frizzy red beard and bloodshot beady eyes. He holds a large semi-automatic rifle close to his body, and scans the crowd meticulously for possible threats. Though he wears the uniform shirt of the U.S. army, his demeanor is not one of honor or pride, but of sickened, disillusioned duty. The other, a girl, with thick yellow curls and a bountiful bust contained inside a too-tight white dress. She has slanted, sultry green eyes. There is a whorelike, slutty quality about her despite her conservative dress. But she is undeniably beautiful. I self consciously remember looking at my own chest this morning. Scratches everywhere. Nothing to be proud of. I run my fingers through my mousy hair, wishing I’d washed it. The beautiful woman holds a bouquet of flowers, with several blossoms strewn throughout her golden locks. She smiles at John.

I roll my eyes out of jealousy and look at Tracey, motioning to the girl sitting on stage, “Don’t tell me it’s a wedding,”

She shakes her head, “Oh no, that’s his sister. Faith. I don’t quite know if marriage is a thing here or if they’re all about brotherly sisterly love or if it’s just one massive orgy. I have no idea.”

I laugh at her raunchy train of thought. This is the Tracey I love.

“And who is Mr. Scary over there?” I whisper, trying not to make it obvious who I am talking about.

“Oh, him?” She whispers back, “I don’t know...He wasn’t here last time. I don’t exactly know what the gun is for, either.”

“Maybe he’s exerting his second amendment right?” I tease with a horrible attempt at the stereotypical Hope County drawl.

She looks at me. It’s not funny. “Why do they even need guns?”

“Tracey. We live in Montana. Everyone’s got guns here.”

“I know… but something’s not right.”

I look around the room again, “Maybe his job is to stop desperate bitches like us from throwing ourselves at that hottie over there?”

She bursts out laughing.

Our conversation is interrupted by John’s voice, “Brothers and sisters, welcome!” he proclaims, arms outstretched.

Applause. Tracey and I join in. At the moment we are spectators, like flies on a wall carefully observing but not yet involved.

“I want to tell you,” he continues, “how wonderful it is to see all of these new faces in our home this evening.” His eyes find mine momentarily. I’m intimidated by his strong presence yet also trying my hardest not to swoon. “We hope that this is just the beginning of your march with us.

“I want you to think of the life you’ve led before now. Of all the pain, of all the hardship, of every road you’ve turned down that felt like a dead end. I want to assure you, brothers and sisters, that the ship you’ve sailed across a sea of hardship is about to dock. I give to you a new captain who will guide you to an island of paradise. My brother, your Father, Joseph Seed!”

The crowd stands, clapping and cheering, holding their hands up in praise. The church doors open, and the blazing golden sunset from the west illuminates the doorway, revealing the silhouette of a tall, broad shouldered man. The light comes through his yellow tinted glasses, creating two glowing dots on the ground in front of him.

He moves with a serenity. There is a comforting sense of peace, a radiance that surrounds him. His suit jacket fits him well. His long hair is tied in a small bun on the crown of his scalp. He carries a white book with the symbol of the Project etched in gold on the cover. A rosary is wrapped like a bracelet across his right wrist and palm.

I cannot yet see his face. I too am standing, on my toes, craning my neck around the people in front of me, squinting. Finally when he reaches the stage, he turns around, and the crowd goes silent. They return to their seats. I am the last to stay standing.

Our eyes lock like magnets. I do not need to hear his voice. He does not need to utter a single word. A look comes across his sullen, rugged face. He catches his breath. The room is completely silent. Time slows. My heartbeat pounds. He looks as though he has seen a ghost. I know I look like a ghost. Perhaps it is that I seem so weak and sickly that common sense says I should not be standing here, I should not be in this room. But I am. And I know, somehow, deep inside myself, that I am destined to be here. To meet him. His expression changes from one of shock to one of recognition, a longing for something far off in the distance which yet appears so near. A red string of fate ties the two of us together before either of us can object. But like some perfect private secret, I am afraid that anyone else caught on to it. As my awareness returns to the room, I sit. He swallows hard. I try to look away but I can’t. I’m already entranced.

He speaks right to me as he begins his sermon.

“It is fate that you have come here.”

His words are chilling. They pierce me.

Joseph continues, “It is God’s divine plan that you are here today. Whether you’ve devoted yourself to this project or if this is your first time with us, I tell you that you are here for a reason. This is no accident. This is no chance.”

His speech, though indirect and addressed to a crowd, feels so personal. It is as if despite all of the people in this room he is talking to me and me alone. I know that it is no accident, that it is no chance, that I am not confused. The connection I feel with him is mutual. In a sea of strangers I am seen. We see each other.

“Just as such,” he goes on, respectfully connecting with the others in the pews, “your existence, your very entrance into this world, your birth, your conception...all is for a reason.”

He cannot stand it long. Joseph looks directly at me again and reads my soul like an open book. “You who have felt lost, unwanted, undesired, and unnecessary to the world: have no fear. You have a purpose.” He assures me, “Your life is designed to have significance. Even when the road is foggy, when the path is untred and you know not which step to take, know that God has a destination for you. I have a destination for you.”

My eyes well with tears. For the first time since my mother died, I feel safe. Sheltered. Believed in.

His voice, like silk, his words, like music, envelope me. “When all doors have shut against you, when your friends and your families turn their backs on you, I will be standing here with open arms. I accept you, my children, just as you are. There is nothing you have to change. No one else you have to be. You are loved here, just as you are. And you have always been worthy of that love.”

I break.

When the people around me hear my sobs interrupt the silence of Joseph’s pause, they turn to me with a look of celebratory joy on their faces. A woman on my right with very few teeth and hair bordering on dreadlocks pulls me against her bosom and holds me. Two young men reach back from their seats in front of me and pat me on my shoulder. Now the entire church is watching me, overjoyed. Someone starts the applause.

I feel a new hand on my back from my left side. I turn, expecting it to be Tracey. But it’s not. It’s the woman in the white dress from onstage. The sister.

“Come with me,” she beckons.

I don’t know what this means. “Wh-why?”

I look at Tracey. For the first time she’s looking at me not as my best friend. She seems bitter, disgusted, as if I’m filth. Trash. Foolish. Petty. As if I had no soul.

Faith speaks softly to me, “The Father wants to meet you. Won’t you come up?”

I laugh through my tears, “I’m interrupting the service.”

“No no no,” she’s overbearingly gentle, “Please come up. Nothing would make us happier.”

“Go to the Father,” the woman holding me into her bosom says, lifting my torso towards Faith. I take the sister’s hand, and she walks me down the aisle towards The Father who awaits me by the altar.

When we reach it, Faith hands me over to him and returns to her seat.

His hands are smooth and cold. His eyes, up close, are a vortex behind his yellow glasses. Full of wisdom and peace, as if he had reached that Nirvana the Buddhists dream of. He’s good looking. Not in the way that John is good looking. John is the kind of untouchably handsome, out of everyone’s league yet inside every girl’s dreams. The Father is approachable yet with a true sense of authority, like all fathers should be.

“What is your name my child?”

Intoxicated by him, I forget it on the spot. “My name?”

“Your name.”

“Rachel,” I swallow, “Rachel Jessop.”

His lips turn up at the corners.

“Tell me, Rachel. What is making you cry?”

I search for the answer in his eyes and find it, “The feelings that your words are bringing me. Feelings of safety. Salvation.”

He holds my face in his hands, “Salvation from what, dear Rachel?”

Feeling all eyes on me, I choke up. “F-from my life. From my agony.”

He nods slowly, knowingly.

“And what gives you this pain?” He continues to hold my face so that I cannot look anywhere else except straight into his magnificent eyes. More tears come.

My next words are succinct, for I’m clinging to my composure. “My father and my brother beat me. I’m bullied endlessly by my peers. I don’t feel safe anywhere.”

He continues his knowing nod. “My brothers and I know intimately of your struggle. Don’t we?” He looks to John and Jacob.

I see John nod in my periphery, but Jacob makes no expression whatsoever.

Joseph’s left hand softens into a gentle caress, “What else, child?”

He pulls the words out of me, words I am sure I shouldn’t even say in front of so many people. “I abuse drugs for help,” the rest is a stream of consciousness through my tears, “I’m a rat. I rummage for anything I can get my hands on. I always thought I deserved this life… like I did something irredeemably wrong and my circumstances are a consequence. I take every blow and I let others take from me… but there is no hatred in my heart for anyone except for myself. I don’t blame them. I think it’s all my fault.”

He sighs, looking at me with pity and understanding, “What if I told you, Rachel, that none of it is your fault?”

This concept is foreign to me, “How?”

“The pain you suffer is not because of your own personal ills. If that we’re the case, why aren’t the money grubbers, the corrupt politicians and greedy business owners punished with the same abuses you experience?”

I look at him blankly, “I don’t know.”

“It’s society that is sick, Rachel. It’s the ills in society which are responsible for the pain and the suffering of the innocent. It’s not your fault. They don’t understand you, so they try to take you out.”

The clouds part in my mind. The sky is clear. I’ve never thought of it it that way. I never considered that I am not the problem.

“But here,” He touches my forehead to his. I adore the feeling. “Here you may be saved, Rachel. Here your differences are celebrated. Put to use. Here you can be fulfilled and you can be happy. That’s what this Project offers.”

The Project, on their cue, claps again, pleased with the power of their leader’s message. Joseph looks straight into my eyes. I feel his anchor sinking in to me. And I know I will follow him into the darkest depths of the sea.

“We will talk more, Rachel.” He says. I am passed back to Faith and seated beside her. She holds my hands tightly. Joseph continues his main speech to the rest of the crowd.

“The world as we know it, as we see it today, is full of fog. Clutter. Sin. Distractors from our destined path. My children, can’t you feel that the world around us today is not the world that God intended to create? You, like Rachel, who have found yourselves here today as a result of his divine plan must be aware, even if remotely, of this fact?

“Let me tell you: God is angry. God intends to wipe this world clean again, the way he flooded the earth allowing only Noah and his family to board the arc. We are once again approaching a storm. Which is why, my children, God spoke to me. He has called to me to reach out to all of you, to each and every one of you, that you might be saved. That you might be redeemed. That you might discover your purpose and follow the path which he has set for us. My children, won’t you take my hand? Won’t you take hands with me, my brother Jacob, my brother John, and my sister Faith and join us in our march to Eden’s Gate?

“You do not need to decide tonight. But I hope that at the very least, I have planted a seed.”

John is the first to laugh at his closing statement. Jacob again, has no reaction. As the crowd catches on, the chuckling grows. I myself laugh through my tears, but when I look in the audience, I see Tracey scowling.

---------

Crickets conduct their nightly symphony as Tracey and I walk through the long grass back to her pickup truck. She’s quiet, but her anger can be felt loud and clear. She’s walked a few steps ahead of me the whole way.

“Tracey,” I stop her, grabbing her hand.

I look into her dark eyes, those eyes that know more about me than any other soul on this earth. My closest and dearest friend.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She scoffs, “What the hell happened between the two of you just now?”

I know she is talking about the moment I shared with Joseph, then my emotional breakdown and our uncanny closeness that took up a bulk of the sermon.

“I don’t know,” I tell her, “I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it yet.”

She crosses her arms for warmth, pulling on her long sleeve t-shirt. “It was...awkward- no, uncomfortable, no-- Rachel what the fuck was that? What the actual fuck was that?”

Suddenly I reread a beautiful chapter in my life as if it were some sort of vulgar oddity. I’m embarrassed. I look down.

“Look, Rachel.” Tracey sighs, “I know there are some things we don’t talk about. I know that everyone has got secrets. I just wish I knew before we came--”

I look up at her, confused. “Knew what?”

She swallows. “I shouldn’t say anything. Who am I to judge? I mean…”

“What are you trying to say?” I demand defensively.

“Nothing!” She puts her arms up and takes a step back from me. “Let’s just go home. Your dad is probably worried.”

“I don’t want to go home.” I tell her. It’s the truth.

She gives me a look of shock and confusion. “Rachel, these people…there is something not right about them. They’re apocalyptic. They’re all talking about willing to die for that man. It’s like they’re being brainwashed. Some kind of new age Japanese kamikaze squadron ready to blow themselves up! Not to mention they look like a bunch of crackheads.” She puts both hands on my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye, “I want you to get better, Rachel. I’m afraid these people will just-just exploit your addiction. They won’t heal you. They’ll make you worse.”

“At least I don’t feel like the odd one out!” I shout at her. I am more frustrated with the situation than with my friend. “I don’t know how much more I can take! I don’t want— No, I can’t go back to my dad, Tracey. I can’t go back to school. I’m already failing. It’s not like I’m going to graduate. I’ve got nothing! I haven’t eaten a proper meal in three months! What am I going to do with my life besides waitressing or prostituting myself or having some rich man’s kids? This place…” I start to tear up, “I know it’s not perfect but it’s better than what I have now.”

She scoffs. “You know that you’re better than that Rachel.”

I laugh, but I’m exasperated. “I don’t! I fucking don’t! I’m not like you, Tracey! I’m not smart! I can’t get a degree. I don’t have a mom who supports me and takes care of me.”

I’ve wounded her. “You know that’s not what this is about.”

“And you know what?” Tears stream down, “I’m not your fucking charity case.”

“Well what makes you think you’re theirs all of a sudden? What makes you think you’re his all of a sudden?”

So that’s it.

“You’re jealous,” I call her out.

She laughs it off. “Sorry, Rachel. I’m not jealous of your forty-something schizophrenic preacher boyfriend.”

Our argument becomes petty, like that of two bratty schoolgirls, the kind of people we have never been before. “He is not my boyfriend.”

“Oh really?”

“Why would you even say that?”

“Well you sure seem pretty close don’t you?”

“I don’t know what happened!” I yell. “I never met that man before tonight! You heard me on the phone! I had no idea who this group was or what they do!”

Her mouth twitches. “Well you’re a damn good liar Rachel.”

“I’m not lying!”

“You’re trying to tell me that the little scene you made back there wasn’t planned?”

I shake my head. “I don’t see how it could be.”

“And I don’t see how it couldn’t be.”

“Tracey!” I try so hard to get through to her, but nothing is working, “I’ve never lied to you! Not once in all these years!”

She’s quiet.

“Why don’t you believe me?”

She sighs and looks away.

I know that she is jealous. But I realize in that moment that she is not jealous of what happened to me tonight. She’s jealous because she can’t believe that I can find peace and happiness in a different place, that I can find it with people other than her.

“They aren’t trying to fix me,” I say with an angry, disillusioned certainty, “All you ever do, all you ever talk about is trying to fix me. You believe that I’m broken. You want me to be broken so you have something to do with your life besides sit in your nice fucking house with your nice fucking family. All I want...for God’s sake all I want is to feel like I have a purpose. I don’t want to be someone else’s purpose, Tracey. I want to be my own purpose.”

Tracey continues to avoid looking at me. She glances in different directions, looks at the ground by her feet. “So that’s it, Rachel?”

“What’s it?”

“You’re just going to throw our friendship away?”

I want to shake her. “What? No! Tracey that’s not what I said!”

She glares at me. “I’ve been here for you. I’ve fought for you for the last three years. We’ve grown up together. I’m sorry that’s not enough.”

“Tracey!”

She’s running to her truck. I try to follow her, but my lungs and legs are weak.

“Tracey!”

She’s too fast. I feel dizzy. My vision starts to blur. I try to pick up speed.

“Tracey I didn’t say that!”

She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t look back. Gets in her car, starts the engine. The lights turn on and she speeds away.

I watch her tail lights fade. I’m sick of the taste of my own tears. I’m sick of this life. I drop to my knees and grip the grass as hard as I can with my fists. I scream into the blue night sky. What is the way? Where is the path? What is my life supposed to be? Who am I now that I have no one? I can’t walk home. I don’t want to walk home. I could call a cab but I don’t have any money.

If I go home, I don’t know if I will ever get out of the house again.

I hear Joseph’s words in the back of my head. I remember them almost verbatim: “When all doors have shut against you, when your friends and your families turn their backs on you, I will be standing here with open arms. There is nothing you have to change. No one else you have to be. You are loved here, just as you are. And you have always been worthy of that love.”

I turn around, take a deep breath, and run back to the ranch. It glows with warm light from inside. It’s the only light I see.

#far cry 5 #faith seed #far cry fanfiction #far cry 5 faith #fc5 #joseph seed #fc5 fanfic

23 notes · View notes

amnachil · 5 years ago

Text

The College Society Chapter 2 Part 5

The next part !

Liam Tuesday December 18

It was the second tuesday in a row when Liam had to woke up early. Maybe he had been cursed by a witch. This time, it was his mother Rachel who showed up. And she had bad news. The poor lad was convoked by the judge to testify against her. His dad and his lawyer ploted the whole thing. And Rachel might lost her visitations rights.

Afterwards began a real time of chaos. Once his mother left in tears because she feared to lose absolutely everything, Liam went bersek. He destroyed his furnitures while screaming with anger and pain. Nick hid with the console in his bedroom and waited the end of the turmoil. For almost an hour, the chestnut just lost it. He hit the wall enough to bleed. At the end, he was worn-out and revolted. When did I become so violent ?! Why things can't be normal ? Since 12th grade, his world was falling apart. And he hated this.

"I'm going for a jog !" he shouted at Nick. "Don't wait me."

And he ran outside as fast as possible.

He headed towards the park, and ran, ran and ran. Liam didn't stop before he was totally incapable of carrying on. He just let himself fall in the grass. This is so unfair. She devoted her life to us. And now she could lose everything, depending on my testimony. The young boy rested there for hours. He skipped the first lecture, but didn't care at all. His cellphone rang several times. Nick and Rebecca both called him, but he didn't care either. All he wanted was some peace.

Eventually, when the sun went down, he left the parc. He was heading home when he ran into Colton. His friend was doing a jogging, but stopped when he saw him.

"Hi dude." he greeted softly. "Glad to see you're... physically fine. Nick thought you would maybe hurt yourself."

Liam looked right through him. He just continued his path, feeling a bit feeble.

"Liam, are you okay ? You look sick."

The lad didn't answered. He just closed his eyes. His body was shaking. And everything went black.

He woke up at the hospital. The doctor told him he had made an anxiety attack and some had been suffering from hypoglycemia. He gave him some medication, and left the room. Nick was there, playing at his gameboy. When they ended up alone, he mumbled :

"Don't worry, I told your parents to not come. Your father wanted to, but I persuaded him it wasn't a good idea."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Look, you need to rest. Don't do anything okay ?"

Liam nodded slowly. He wanted to sleep, but first, he really needed something.

"Give me my phone please." he asked. "I want to hear Nate just a bit."

"Of course."

His bestfriend answered immediately. Liam heard a lot of noises, and understood Nate was partying.

"Hey buddy. What's the deal ? You never call me after 10pm."

"I... I just got some troubles and I'm at the hospital but nothing bad, really."

His bestfriend remained silent for a bit. He got away from the party.

"Tell me."

"It's some stuff with my father. We can speak about that later. And Nick is taking care of me, don't worry. But can you do something for me please ?"

Liam looked out of the corner of his eyes Nick. His roommate had put his headphones and wasn't listenning.

"Whatever you want." promised Nate. "Just say it, and I'll do it."

"Can you tell me I'm not completely worthless ?"

Again, his bestfriend kept quiet for a moment. Liam wanted so deseperatly to see him. Nate's parents were his mother's old friends, and both boys knew eachother since forever. They didn't grow up in the same town and didn't attend to the same school, but they were very close anyway. Right now, Liam needed his soulmate. But it was impossible. He had to wait the christmas holidays. But I don't even know if I'll be with my mother or with my demonic father.

"Bro'. At least to me, you're someone very important." claimed Nate. "And I'm sure it's the same for your family. I know you blame yourself for a lot of things, but you're just wrong. You're not worthless. Liam you hear me ? You're not worthless. Christmas is coming, and I promise we'll spend it together. Okay ?"

"Yeah. Thank you... I think I'll rest a bit now. Good night Nate."

Liam hung up and laid down. He fell asleep like this, miserable and extremely sad.

Rebecca Wednesday December 19

It was the last day before the holidays. Then, they would have until early january to review for the end-of-term examination. But Rebecca had a lot of thing to think through before. Yesterday, Liam ended up at the hospital after a serious break-down. She was worried for him and for Nick. I hope none of them got hurt... She hadn't receive any news yet. Honestly, she felt very bad. She had pretended to be their friend, but didn't see that coming. Now Liam was maybe suffering from depression and Nick was alone to help him. And it wasn't her only problem. Emilio continued to act as his boyfriend. Everyday, he kissed her, cuddled her like if he really loved her. She had done some research about this hunter stuff on the internet. She had found scary things. So there was people in the university who where chasing other people ? And generally for sex ?! Home hunter like Emilio were scary. Those kind of person needed both a steady girlfriend and freedom to see whoever they wanted to. Generally, they were overly possessive towards their official girlfriend. And even more with time. In other word, he'll never let me go. And when I thought things couldn't be worst... Bob had called her parents and had convinced them she was letting herself go. According to him, she wasn't focused. Which is true, but not for the reason he listed... Anyway, when she would be going back home, some shit would happen, she knew it for sure.

For lunchtime, the black girl joined Matthew. According to his text, he had some goods news, and she really needed this.

"Hey Rebbie." he smiled when she sat. "So, I found a way to free you from Emilio."

"I'm listening."

"So Emilio wants a girlfriend and many lovers at the same time. For now, you're his girlfriend, which mean he consider you his precious little property."

Is it supposed to make me feel better ? Because it doesn't. Fuck this sick man and his needs.

"I think we can manage to make him see otherwise. I mean, if you ain't a faithful girlfriend, he will let you be right ?"

"And how the hell are we going to do that ?"

"The easy way. You have to sleep with someone else, and we will bring the truth to him."

Rebecca stared at Matthew for a moment, dazed by his idea. I'm not a slut.

"You think I'll have sex just like that ? And isn't it a bit dangerous ? Emilio will lost it and kill me right after."

The sophomore rolled his eyes.

"C'mon girl, I'm not asking you to date someone. It's just one sex session. I know plenty of man who are eager to help you with this. And don't worry, it's not like if he'll hurt you for real. Especially if we're here to protect you."

"But if you are, why can't I just ditch him ?"

"He'll never accept it and you know that. Look, think during the holidays. In january, you tell me. Trust me he'll still be there for you, until he thinks you're not worthy enough to be his girlfriend."

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey Wednesday December 19

The hospital. The fucking hospital. How the hell this baboon managed to wind up in the hospital ? I fucking hate this one in particular. Too many stupid people. The Dean's grandson went along the hallway pissed. According to this Nicolas, Liam was going out today, but needed to go back to his family home, in the middle of nowhere. Which means it's my last chance to make a fucking move before the holidays. Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey wasn't stupid. He already understood sex would come later. Maybe in one month. And in the meantime, he just had to screw some chicks and chaps. And masturbate a lot. Anyway, he entered in his prey's room hastily when he glanced the nurse he had banged last year come nearer.

"Dami ? What are you doing here ?"

Bloody hell, my name isn't Dami. You're an absolute braindead numbskull.

"You fine ?" he asked more diplomatically.

"Yes, I'm allowed to leave. It was just the tiredness."

"Good, come with me."

There was an avantage to speak with such an idiotic person : Liam was obeying docilely. As long as it's not an absurd request... This dude is smart in a way. A stupid smart guy. That's so weird.

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey led his prey at the nearest restaurant. He expected this to be a sort of date. But with Liam, everything could go wrong at anytime. And it was so exciting. The lad ordered a salad, the freshman some rice.

"So Liam. Are you fully recovered ?"

Honestly, he didn't care at all about his prey's health. He once had had sex with a sick boy in highschool, who puke his diner right after. Gross, but he pronounced Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey's name so well.

"Yeah." replied the chestnut dude. "I got some bad news for my family and I don't really know what happened next but... I'm fine now."

Bad news ? Like Barbara said, this man has troubles. The story of this tiny pussy was kinda interesting to understand Liam's behavior. Because he had done something bad, and because he felt terrible about it, he tried to ran away from reality. And that's why he's so lunatic. But it just make the hunt better. Liam had already finished his plate. This greedy boy was eating fast.

"You should take a second helping." offered the junior. "I'm paying for everything, don't worry."

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey expected their unofficial date to last a bit longer. However, he noticed something in Liam's eyes. Something interesting.

"I'm not really hungry." said this one. "But thank you Dami, you're really nice."

Did you just lie ? Oh man, it's the first time you're lying on purpose to me. What the hell was the problem ? Let's see if I can push it a bit.

"It wasn't a proposition." he said with authority. "Take a second helping. See, I'm doing the same."

Liam didn't resist that much. He lowered his eyes, and they both ordered.

Things became fascinating. The freshman ate his plate of pasta really fast. Each time he took a mouthful, his eyes were twinkling with greed. He liked it so much. And this is what I needed. A weak spot. When the plate went empty, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey smiled.

"I have some trouble to finish mine." he whispered. "Do you want to finish it ?"

It was a enormous steak with fries. Honestly, it might be enough to feed the Dean's grandson for a day. But Liam licked his lips. He wants this badly. Oh that's good.

"C'mon, we don't want to waste, do we ?"

"No we don't." approved his prey. "I'll help you as I can."

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey must've been hallucinating. Liam took the plate, and ate it entirely in no time. He just devoured it. The hell, how's it even possible ? The most impressive ? He didn't seem stuffed at all. His stomach had barely rounded up. Now I'm curious. It was so ironic. Theo had this guy, and failed to catch him ? The best chubby chaser of the campus didn't saw he had a gem right under his nose ? Now I'm getting hard. He had a thrill.

"Maybe we should go for dessert." he said.

Liam smiled. A genuine, naive smile. Don't. I want to put my dick in your mouth when you're like this.

"Sure, we should." he agreed. "But afterwards, I really need to go. Nick is waiting for me."

The Dean's grandson ordered for them both a piece of chocolate cake. And then he gave his to Liam. This one consumed both so easily. When he finished, he let out a soft, slight belch.

"Excuse me." he said. "It was wonderful. You really are nice with me Dami."

Exceptionally, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey felt relieved when Liam didn't say his name. I would have cum otherwise. He's hotter than I thought. This man. Damnit, I need to jerk off. They left once he paid the bill. And the Dean's grandson rushed his ferrari. Inside, he started a dvd up with his name on a loop. And he masturbated.

To be continued

Well things went bad for our poor Liam ! His family’s problems are a real pain. But he can count on Dami to feed him and cheer him up !

As for Rebecca, will she accept such a weird plan ? We’ll see that soon !

Next weekend is coming my other story ! I assure you, it’s kinky !

#the college society #cs #Liam #Rebecca #Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey #stuffing #a good meal #a bad father #chapter 2 #part 5

1 note · View note

journeysintowebcomics · 6 years ago

Text

Worm Liveblog #97

UPDATE 97: Conspiracy

Last time Skitter seems to have managed to convince Parian to give her a chance. Does Flechette know? I’m not sure. She’ll find out sooner or later, anyway. So, what will happen now that Parian may actually lend the Undersiders a hand? You won’t find out today! Today it will be an interlude. Let’s get started!

It’s August of 1986, a couple decades before present day. What character may be this one, I wonder? It’s a female character, seems to be quite young at this point so they must be an adult right now. Let’s see...looks like she’s under some sort of treatment.

Somewhere along the line, they had stopped telling her that the chemotherapy would make her better. The smiles had become even more strained. There was more emphasis on making her comfortable. Less explanation of what was going on.

Oooooh that sounds rather...terminal. Death may be coming someday. There aren’t that many diseases that need chemotherapy as a treatment, so chances are it’s cancer. Golly, the interlude just started and it’s already throwing some heavy stuff at me!

This sick girl pretends to be asleep when her mother comes, and although she hates doing that, it’s better than pretending she’s okay enough to endure conversations. The silence gives her mother carta blanche to start talking, though. That can’t be much better than what this girl hoped.

“Becca,” her mother murmured from behind her. “You awake?”

Becca? Hmmmm...doesn’t sound familiar. I can’t remember a character that’s named Becca or Rebecca. If there’s one, I may have forgotten.

“You’ve been so brave,” her mom whispered, so quiet she was barely audible.

I’m not brave. Not at all. I’m terrified. I’m so frustrated I could scream. But she couldn’t. Everyone had painted her as being so courageous, so noble and peaceful in the face of the months of treatment. But it was a facade, and she’d passed the point of no return. It was too late to break composure, too late to stop making bad jokes, faking smiles of her own. She couldn’t complain or use her mother’s shoulder to cry on because everyone would fall apart if she did.

She was their support.

That’s quite the heavy load on a deathly sick child. I can’t imagine what that’s like, having to swallow all your frustration and then realizing you can’t let it show because everyone thinks you’re taking it much better than you actually are. It’s even more harrowing when you’re a child, I guess. You know what? This is a rather fitting situation for a trigger event. The thought of death looming above you, all that pent-up frustration, the physical and mental suffering...there’s plenty of stimuli here. Since this person must have survived until the present day – I guess – then she must have survived this sickness.

“My little superhero,” her mother said.

That’s quite the thing to say in this story.

The mom’s choice of words makes Rebecca realize she’s dying. It brings the expected mix of emotions: anger, relief...especially anger at the situation and at others, for not telling her sooner she’s dying. It affects Rebecca enough for her to cry once her mother leaves. It’s dark, she’s seeing the cityscape from her window, and there’s so much she hasn’t done at her age, and so much she’d like to do again.

It struck her that she would probably never get to eat there again, never get a special kids meal with the dinky plastic toy that was meant for kids ten years younger than her.

Oh. She’s older than I thought she was. From the way she was being treated, I thought she’d be like...eight. From this it sounds like she’s like thirteen or fourteen. Still rather young, but she’s not so young people would think they can hide the truth of her situation from her. No wonder she’s frustrated!

There’s a series of things she wished she could have done. Get fast food, read a book in a series, see a movie adaptation, have a real boyfriend...it’s the tragedy of dying, you always wish you had done more than you did.

While Rebecca is letting her pain and sadness show in a manner I’m sure nobody else has, she hears a voice nearby, offering her morphine. It’s a voice she doesn’t know, and turning around confirms it’s a stranger. Hmmm...

“I’m going to increase the drip just a little, Rebecca Costa-Brown.”

Rebecca Costa-Brown? I’m pretty sure if I had seen that full name somewhere before I’d remember. Costa-Brown is quite a memorable name. So, there are two possibilities: either Rebecca Costa-Brown is a character that’s been around before but whose name hasn’t appeared yet, or she’s a character hasn’t made her first appearance yet.

The description of the person who is currently messing with the IV bag is familiar. I’m like 50% sure this was how the Doctor from Cauldrom was described. If so, then that’d mean Rebecca is involved with Cauldron, possibly as an employee. Or maybe, if this is the Doctor, she’s putting some power serum into the IV bag, meaning Rebecca would be a superhero under Cauldron’s thumb.

Rebecca confirms this person in her room isn’t one of her doctors and barely has much time for more before she feels the effect of the morphine. Guess it really was morphine and not soup of superpower. If I’m taking correctly the way this woman said ‘Not yet’ to when Rebecca said she wasn’t one of her doctors then...yeah, I’m growing increasingly more certain this is the Doctor from Cauldron.

Yup, she is. She’s here to make a deal with Rebecca, and she says she can make superheroes. This interlude is happening during the time superheroes were a rarity – in a relative term –and it was predicted in a couple decades there’d be thousands. Well, she’s not wrong, by now all over the world there must be thousands and thousands of parahumans.

By now it’s very clear the offer she’s going to offer Rebecca is to give her powers. She’s showing her the risks of giving powers. This wouldn’t be happening if Rebecca was going to be an employee and not a hero, I think. Photos are shown, parahumans that’d fit the Case 53s very easily. It’s possible it’s precursors of them, or maybe they were already being called Case 53s.

This here is still the early stages of the power serum. Two out of seven die horribly, four experience physical changes that ensure they won’t be in society anymore as normal people, and one gets powers without further consequences. Pretty low odds, all things considered. The Doctor tries to sweeten the deal by saying she could mix things up so there’d be less change of physical changes and there’d be restorative effects – meaning Rebecca here would be healed. Well doesn’t that sound too good to be true?

“I’m not asking for money. Only that you take this leap of faith with me and help me build something. I know the risks are great, I wouldn’t normally ask someone to face them, but I suspect you don’t have much left to lose.”

So, I don’t doubt Rebecca has been in the hospital for quite some time already. It’s to be expected, what with her very deadly illness and what not. Cauldron may be able to access to her medical records. That said, I do wonder why she was the one they picked. It’s unlikely Rebecca is the only child with a terminal illness in the entire world. Maaaaybe it’s more of a geographical thing, and she was the only viable candidate in this part of the world? Or perhaps something about her psychological and emotional state made her a better candidate than other sick children? I really wonder why Cauldron picked her and not someone else, hmmm...

The Doctor was right, though: she doesn’t have anything left to lose, she’s on the verge of death, and in Rebecca’s opinion she already looks so awful she may as well be one of the monstrous parahumans from the photos. Why not to go out in a blaze of glory or possibly be saved even if in the end she looks like a monster? She accepts.

The interlude changes to the next day. The very first line says things went well. Congratulations, Rebecca! You have powers. And it seems the Doctor was right about heightening the chances of everything going just peachy. I wonder what powers she got!

Rebecca extended one arm. Her skin was a healthy pink, her hand thin but not so emaciated as it had been.

“I’m better?”

“I would guess so. In truth, I’m not sure how the regeneration affected the cancer, it might even have exacerbated the symptoms. For the time being, however, you seem to be well.”

This is going to be one hell of a thing to explain to Rebecca’s parents. One day their daughter is dying of cancer and looking like she’s in slow agony, the next day she’s heaps better and may be cancer-free. I don’t doubt the happiness of having her alive and better would triumph over most emotions, but there’ll be a lot of demands for explanations.

Since it still is relatively early in Cauldron’s projects, they don’t even have yet a way to categorize the results. They’ll have to test the serum a few more times. Well, if they need people with nothing to lose, there’s no shortage of them in the world. They’ll find all the test subjects they want.

Oh, well then! Looks like the way to avoid giving explanations to the parents and the doctors is to not be there at all. The Doctor asks Rebecca to stay with them for two years, and then she’ll be free to decide if she wants to return or not. Hmmm...I wonder if the teenager who is with the Doctor right now joined under similar circumstances to Rachel’s.

And so, Rebecca stayed with Cauldron for two years. Before I continue, let’s see what powers she has...so, from what I see here, there’s strength. There may also be some physical immunity, so she doesn’t get hurt. I’m not sure if her mental processes are better now than before, because the reason why they feel sharper and faster now could be that her illness had her so numbed she didn’t notice a decrease in mental processing speed. So far there’s nothing particularly noteworthy or unique, no parahuman character from Worm comes to mind.

So, around one year and half pass.

“Alexandria,” the Doctor called.

It seems Rebecca is Alexandria! Alright, that’s fun! This should be an interesting interlude to read. It also confirms further the ties between the big fishes of the Protectorate and Cauldron go way back.

Alexandria waited patiently as Contessa adjusted her cape, then strode through the door. The Doctor was there, of course. Professor Manton, too. The boy with the math powers was there, standing next to a boy who was staring off into space.

Contessa may be the teenage girl who was with the Doctor. I see the Siberian’s real body is here, from the time he was an investigator in Cauldron’s payroll. There’s also...the Number Man, perhaps? Maybe he was like Rebecca – a teenager or preteen who was brought into Cauldron’s forces.

Turns out Hero™®© is here! He really was with the rest as a Cauldron hero. Legend is also here, and it doesn’t seem like Eidolon is around. Maybe Eidolon will arrive later into the group. So, by now Alexandria has managed to build a reputation of some sort. She also has a nice costume already, possibly provided by Cauldron.

The Doctor spoke, “She’s as strong as any parahuman we’ve recorded. Flies at speeds that match your own, Legend. Near-perfect memory retention, accelerated processing and learning.”

So she does have increased mental processing. Alright!

Oh, Eidolon is here already. Alexandria was the last person to join this group, then. So, the reason why all the powerful capes and also Manton and Possibly-The-Number-Man are here is because there’s a proposal Alexandria wants to make. The newcomer wants to propose something! This should be interesting.

She starts by saying how this room has the most powerful parahumans in the world, and that parahumans would tend to be villains because of the traumatic events they go through. That’s rather true, a trigger event sure would bring all kinds of negative emotions. Taylor wanted to be a hero because she had heroic role models – the Protectorate and others of their kind. I’m sure others were like that too, but yeah, most new parahumans would choose to be villains because of their traumatic experiences.

The Doctor cut in, “And I’m producing more heroes than villains. For now, the proportion favors us, and you’ve been able to keep the criminal element in line. For the most part. But even as I expand my operations, I have come to the realization that I can only produce so much. And the rate of parahuman growth is expanding. The next twenty years are projected to produce a total number of six hundred and fifty thousand people with powers, worldwide.”

Sounds about right. It’s a lot of people. True, compared to the total population of the world it doesn’t seem like a considerable amount, but when you consider the amount of power each one has and what they can do, 6500 parahumans are way too many. Can you imagine how awful things would be if there were 6500 powerful villains all over the world?

Since Alexandria and the Doctor worked on the numbers, I’m sure they’re right. Things like these are easier when you have fast processing speeds in your brain. At the rate parahumans keep happening, the heroes Cauldron makes will be outpaced. I find interesting that what they are focusing is in that Cauldron makes heroes. Perhaps this group isn’t the threat they had seemed at first? It could be rather interesting, really.

So, to avoid the inevitable, Alexandria says they should be what the governments are trying to do: regulate. As expected, the reactions to such suggestion aren’t of joy and immediate cooperation.

Turns out having Legend as the leader was Alexandria’s idea. Either Legend or Hero™®© would have worked. Alexandria didn’t look as kind and positive as the candidates to leader, and Eidolon was too powerful. Alexandria is also the one who thought and planned how to incorporate parahumans into society. From what I have seen in Worm I can see it worked decently well!

Looks like the Protectorate and the Wards were also Alexandria’s idea. It really is like everything in parahumans’ lives was planned by Alexandria. II never thought a single person, superpowered or not, could have so much involvement in society.

“I expect we’ll be able to employ the remainder of the plan, the eight-stage integration of parahumans with the public, because I will be in a position of power in the government. I, my civilian self, can be in charge of the government-sponsored superhero teams within eight years.”

Could she still be holding that job, I wonder...does that mean Alexandria may have a job in the PRT in a national level, perhaps?

To give everyone else some time to think about her proposals, she prepared booklets and is willing to give them time to think about the plans. It’s a foregone conclusion there was enough support for it to happen, but I’m intrigued about if someone in the Protectorate objected! Eidolon did, of course. Did he change his mind at some point? What do Legend and Hero™®© think? So many questions and most likely there won’t be any answers!

Ah, the parahuman who can make portals is called the Doormaker. For a moment I thought I had read ‘Doormaster’. That would have been kind of cool, haha. This interlude is taking in an era when the building in Côte d'Ivoire still hadn’t been built – or at least I imagine that’s that place, because the Doctor says that will be her base of operations in the future.

“Where is it?”

“Another Earth.”

“Like Earth Aleph? The one Haywire opened the portal to?”

I’m not sure I like the thought of getting other Earths involved in this story, honestly...I mean, it’s okay for worldbuilding and stuff, but I hope it won’t have a big role in the story or anything. I just feel there’s too much already involved in this story to need something like alternate Earths. It would kind of...bloat the story?

Once everyone leaves, the Doctor and Alexandria talk. Turns out Alexandria and the Doctor kept a few things to herself about the long-term goals. Oho, keeping secrets, Alexandria? How devious! She’s turning out to be more calculating and with a bit of a devious streak, I like her.

“You have your end of the project. I feel they’ll come around. Focus on that. I’ll handle the projected issues on my side of things. Just need to find the right individual. Someone I can groom, perhaps. Between you and I, one of us is bound to succeed.”

There’s something very sinister about the Doctor saying anything about having someone to groom. I’m sure by the time things reach the present she already has someone, but can you imagine if she didn’t? Who in the present would she choose? Not Skitter, I think, because Skitter already has a million people going after her, but yeah.

Almost two years have passed, and Alexandria doesn’t feel particularly compelled about returning home. I still am curious how exactly they covered up Rebecca being gone all of a sudden. I feel bad for Rebecca’s parents – or at least for her mother, since she was the one that appeared in the story. Her daughter was dying of cancer and then she was gone or went away, and now she won’t return. That must hurt a lot.

December 13th of 1992. Something huge is coming out of the ground. It’s a bizarre, terrifying creature I’m pretty sure is an Endbringer, because the description reminds me a lot of Leviathan. Leviathan was aquatic, this one clearly is related to ground. The descriptions mention obsidian and magma.

His skin was crusted with black stone that might have been obsidian, layers of what might have been cooled magma sloughing off of him as he planted his feet on the ground and stood straight.

‘Straight’ might have been too generous. He was built like a caricature of a bodybuilder, or a bear-human hybrid. He rippled with muscle, his skin gray, thick and leathery like the hide of a rhinoceros or elephant. His black obsidian horns were so heavy his head hung down. They weren’t rooted in his forehead, but in the middle of his face, a half-dozen curved shafts of black crystal twisting their way out of his face and back over the top of his head, some ten feet long. A single red eye glowed from between the gap in two horns, positioned too low. His mouth was a jagged gap in his lower face, twisting up to a point near his temple, lined by jagged horn-like growths that were too irregular to be called teeth.

His claws were the same, not hands in the conventional sense, but mangled growths of the same material that made up his horns, many of the growths as large as Alexandria herself. He could flex them, move them, but they were clearly weapons and nothing else.

Can someone send me an image of this beast, please? I’m curious to see how the fans depicted this thing.

The Protectorate is here, and so is the team of local heroes. The exact place they’re at is unspecified. The maybe-Endbringer roars, already injuring one of the heroes, and then points at that person with a claw. That’s a death sentence immediately:

The man ignited from the inside out, flame and smoke pouring from every orifice as he was turned into a burned-out husk in a matter of seconds. His skeleton disintegrated into fine dust and ash as it crashed to the ground.

...okay, I’m sure at least one person must have ended traumatized by this sudden death. Goodness, that’s horrible!

Soon Alexandria is targeted directly, and although she’s invincible, it seems she still needs to breathe. She actually was in danger for a moment while Behemoth – it is Behemoth! – drove her into the ground with fire. Interesting weakness...to think one of the most powerful heroes could die by, say, drowning.

There’s major oil fields near the huge monster that clearly has fire powers to some extent. I’m already marking those oil fields as a total loss, I’m sure those will explode.

Behemoth doesn’t control fire or rocks or earth or lightning. There’s a better way of having all those abilities under the same name.

Her eyes widened. Not individual powers. Those were all the same power. She pressed one hand to her ear, opening communications to the rest of her team. “He’s a dynakinetic! He manipulates energy! No Manton limitation!”

I didn’t even know that word existed. Clearly they managed to make Behemoth surrender. No idea how, but they did! Too bad I don’t get to see how, because the moment ends there. Oh well. Maybe it was like it happened with Leviathan – they hit the Endbringer enough and with enough force to convince it to turn around and leave after it caused widespread destruction.

They’d been right after all. Dumb luck had created a parahuman as dangerous as what the Doctor could create by design.

It’s not like I ever thought Cauldron had created the Endbringers, but it’s somewhat of a relief it’s confirmed they didn’t. Also, what kind of traumatic event would create something like an endbringer? Was this the moment it emerged for the first time? Was the person who turned into Behemoth under the ground? Maybe it was a worker from the oil fields or something.

Next scene. Alexandria swears on the constitution to defend the United States. This must be a public event of some sort, and since it’s her cape identity swearing, I imagine this is the end result of her plan to bend to the government’s regulations – regulations she would impose through her civilian identity. Things went according to plan, I guess!

Her mother is here. Doesn’t seem to me like she returned home, but at least she did see her mother again. That’s the least she could have done, so I’m glad about it. So, this was the moment they founded the Protectorate in front of everyone. Judging by the way everyone is cheering, they did manage to way the public’s feelings about parahumans towards supporting the heroes.

That was a short scene, it changes to seven years later. It takes me a couple lines to realize what this moment may be: the Siberian when it killed Hero™®© because the setting is what I kind of remember it was. Alexandria feels sick because they’re leaving a victim be with whatever’s there. Despite Alexandria’s gray alignment – as far as I’m concerned – she really wants to save lives. Nice to know she has the right purpose despite everything.

Until recently they didn’t know Manton was the Siberian’s real body, but it seems Alexandria thought she was familiar. She may have seen Manton’s daughter before. It was just a feeling of familiarity. I also notice Manton didn’t hesitate to brutally murder someone he had worked before in Cauldron. Did Cauldron care one of their best creations was killed by Manton?

As anyone may have imagined, Hero™®© dying was shocking to everyone. Panic ensued on the bystanders, it was a frantic moment. It’s the kind of situation that would cause more victims, I’m ready to scroll down and see something along the lines of ‘the Siberian lunged through the crowd, tearing apart several unfortunate bystanders’.

Alexandria moved in close, hoping to stop Siberian, to catch her and slow her down, saw Siberian swing, pulled back out of the way.

Her visor fell free, clattering to the ground. Then she felt the blood.

Saw, in her one remaining good eye, the chunks of her own face that were falling to the ground around her, bouncing off her right breast, the spray of blood.

...okay, it’s more or less what I expected, but it happened on someone I didn’t think it would. Alexandria has gotten mangled! Thank goodness Eidolon has some healing powers, but still! That must hurt!

The next day, it is said Eidolon’s healing couldn’t do much. She has lost her eyesight in one eye, it will be replaced with a glass eye. Can glass eyes see? I don’t think they do, from what little I know. Anyway, the glass eye isn’t what’s important here. What’s important is that the Doctor told Alexandria who exactly the Siberian’s real body is. Alexandria knew all along, yet Manton was left to go around and join the Slaughterhouse Nine, and killing who knows how many people. Trying to save people, huh, Alexandria? By letting a mass murderer go around freely? Well, I imagine Cauldron insisted Manton should be free to do whatever he wants, I guess.

“I suppose he thought he was qualified to oversee all that. Despite my strict instructions that staff weren’t to partake. Or he had other motivations. It could have been a gift from a father trying to buy his daughter’s affections.”

So what happened to his daughter was his own fault. He’s taking out his grief over whatever happened to her, and it was his own fault. It’s rather tragic, but I can’t really feel any sympathy over this because I don’t know Manton at all. The Siberian’s role in the story has been to be a mass murderer and no more. It’s a shame, really, because Manton has all the traits of the kind of villain you would feel pity at.

Eidolon maybe knew. I suppose Legend was the only one who didn’t know. Eidolon also knows about the plans and projects Alexandria and the Doctor are concealing. Whatever they are sure didn’t please him. Mr. Wildbow sure is beating around the bush when it’s about those plans! They must be quite a shocking swerve, then.

As I thought, the Doctor says they should let Manton do whatever he wants.

“So long as he’s active, people will be flocking to join the Protectorate-”

Alexandria slammed her hand on the stainless steel table beside her cot.

I’m just glad Alexandria didn’t accept that right away. I’m very glad about it. Unfortunately her objections will be ignored because Manton was left to do whatever he wanted until present day, but it means a lot that she didn’t approve at all.

“You’re right,” the Doctor said. “I… must be more shaken by Manton’s betrayal than I’d thought. Forget I said anything.”

As if!

It seems that by the time they saw the Siberian for the first time the Doctor still didn’t have the individual she wanted to turn into...whatever she’s trying to do. Instead she’s now thinking about making the right individual. Perhaps through giving that person powers? In that case, if someone in the present is this individual, then their powers were given by Cauldron, perhaps?

It’s present day, and bombs are raining down. I think it’s the present because this brings to mind the bombing against the Slaughterhouse Nine.

I was wrong, it isn’t. Alexandria is somewhere else that isn’t Brockton Bay, and she’s bringing people into Cauldron the same way she was brought in: find someone who is on the brink of death and offer them life. In the case that’s written right here in the text she doesn’t tell exactly what will happen, but that’s because the guy he rescued was almost dead. In Cauldron’s cells, there are many who are Case 53s, or at least that’s my guess because they’re monstrous. They all have alterations to their memories and fabricated weaknesses, too. The guy Alexandria rescued is given the dose of serum, and he starts undergoing changes. It’s not pleasant, although any powers he gets aren’t shown.

The irony of placing others in the same situation she used to be in isn’t lost on Alexandria. I bet she never thought she’d ever do this too.

Ah, now it is the present day! They’re talking about Manton and about Jack’s role in the end of the world. They just finished their talk, and were ready to stop.

The Doctor turned to Eidolon, “You want another booster shot?”

“Probably another Endbringer attack coming up, it’s best if I’m in top form.”

“A month or two, either Simurgh or Behemoth if they stick to pattern,” Alexandria said. She watched as Legend strode out of the room. Eidolon paused, then gave the hand signal. No bugs, and Legend wasn’t listening in.

So the other Endbringers are bound to attack someday? Goodness, one big problem more for the already filled future of Worm. Maybe the problem of knowing the number of arcs ahead is that I keep wondering when there’ll be enough time to cram all the plotlines that are being opened. My guess is that the arcs will get even longer and longer!

That aside, they’re all actively hiding stuff from Legend. He already suspects it, that’s obvious thanks to the lie detector he had been using, but I’m sure they’re hiding a lot of huge stuff. He’s not going to take it well once he realizes the extent of what they’re hiding. Heck, I’m the reader and I’m sure the secrets I have seen so far are just a small part of their bunch of secrets.

“We’ll manage,” the Doctor replied. “In the worst case scenario, we’ll explain the circumstances, explain our plan.”

“He won’t like it,” Eidolon spoke.

“But he’ll understand,” the Doctor said. “If the Terminus project is a success, the end of the world isn’t a concern. And I believe we will succeed.”

I’m pretty sure that the Doctor’s plans of grooming someone and the Terminus project are the same thing. I suppose this means she got someone – possibly the guy Alexandria saved -- and now the project is underway. There’s a chance they’re different projects, but yeah, I’m reasonable sure it’s the same.

“So that leaves only my end of things,” the Doctor said.

“Coil,” Eidolon said. “And if he fails?”

Ah, there it is. The Cauldron plotline is starting to be tied with Skitter’s plotlines. I was looking forward to finding out how it would be. Perhaps something Coil is doing in Brockton Bay is very important for Cauldron? He does have a huge money debt towards them. Maybe he would do a favor or two for them, even if money isn’t really something he cares a lot about – I imagine. He always can make more.

The end of the world is a troublesome matter because it gives no more time for projects. That should mean the Terminus project will end in the span of the next two years...interesting.

“If we assist him-”

“No,” the Doctor spoke. “If we assist him, there’s no point.”

“In short?” Alexandria leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “He doesn’t even know it, but everything rests on his shoulders.”

You know what this means? Skitter is going to inadvertently ruin the Protectorate and Cauldron’s plans at once. Whatever Coil has to do or they’re relying on surely needs his resources and everything he has, so if he loses it, he won’t be able to do anything. It’s possible that simply being alive is enough for him to be of use to Cauldron, but I don’t think so. I really can’t wait to see how Skitter ruins everything and possibly dooms the world when she defeats Coil. This is going to be fun.

That was the interlude. It was pretty interesting! I was glad to see more of Cauldron, honestly they’re starting to be the most interesting force in this story. Even more interesting than the Undersiders, I’d dare to say. I hope they and their plans appear more often in the story.

Next time I suppose the next arc will start? Last chapter had a nice ending for an arc, I would be kind of surprised if the arc continued further.

Next time: next update

#worm #worm liveblog #webserial #webserial liveblog #liveblog

7 notes · View notes

spaceorphan18 · 7 years ago

Text

Glee’s Final Season [Part 4/4]

This part is dedicated to @snarkyhag - thank you for stopping Cooper from stealing a baby ;) <3

For context - This set of episodes takes place five years after the events of season six (effectively season 11??) and ends around the time that the real series finale ends. It is mostly canon compliant – though I did take liberty with a few things, most notably, changing Sam and Mercedes’s story. But for the most part, it should settle in nicely into regular canon – and its intent is that this is my own version of the final season of the show.

Also note: I’m not that great at picking out music for these episodes, so feel free to fill in those blanks yourselves ;)

Previously on Glee:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3 - FULL

///

Episode 11.20: Existential Crises

Rachel’s been nominated for an Tony. She tries to play it cool, but she can’t help but incredibly excited about it -- this is what she’s worked her whole life for. She gets plenty of phone calls - from her mom, from Will Schuester, from people she hasn’t heard from in a long time. She even gets, surprisingly, a short message from Cassie July of all people congratulating her. The day of the Tony’s there’s a party at her and Jesse’s home (thrown by her dads), while she and Jesse go to the actual Tony’s. And, of course, she wins the Tony -- and it’s everything she had hoped it would be.

Later that night, after the party has died down, Rachel and Jesse have a quiet alone moment. Rachel says she’s happy -- happier than she’s ever been. And she really wants to take in the moment. But there’s a strangeness to the feeling. She’s now gotten the one thing she’s always wanted - where does she go from there - now that she doesn’t have a specific goal to achieve. Jesse laughs, and tells her she’ll come up with a goal at some point - but for now they can enjoy having an open road.

With the baby on the way soon, Burt and Carole come to New York to help get things set up. It’s a nice time -- and Burt gives some great fatherly -- which he’s happy to pass down. Kurt’s a little worried about being a dad -- thinking that Blaine’s more a natural at it. But Burt knows he’ll be fine -- because he’s a lot like his mom, and his mom freaked out when they were going to have Kurt - but she managed to do a great job. Burt also shares some stories about how Kurt was a kid - as tells them both to prepare for a possible mini Kurt. (They admit they mixed the sperm together - so it could end up a mini Blaine!)

Blaine meanwhile, as much as he loves Burt and Carole, can’t stop thinking about his own family. He’s told his mom about it - but hasn’t spoken to his dad in the past few years. Kurt encourages him to call his dad - maybe just telling his dad he’ll be grandpa might be a step in the right direction. Blaine picks up the phone, and calls.

Mercedes returns from tour - and Sam is thrilled to see her again. The two have a joyous reunion, but it’s cut short by her producers wanting to see her quickly. She feels like she doesn’t get a chance to slow down, as the album promotion continues, and she’s suddenly wanted in a lot of different directions. Sam’s being super supportive, but it almost feels like she hasn’t returned at all. She wants to tell her producers that she wants a break - but that is when they tell her they want her to do a World Tour.

Artie and Tina have wrapped the movie - and it’s already been entered in a film festival. Artie is super excited about it - and when he gets the news, he and Tina go out to celebrate - which turns out to be more like a date. At the end of the night, Artie kisses Tina, and they’re both surprised by the sudden romantic reprisal.

Brittany is told by her costar Mary Hollaran that Mary is leaving for Australia to go on a spiritual tour of the homeland. (She doesn’t exactly specify what she’s talking about.) But because of this - the webseries can’t continue with just Brittany - and Brittany begins to freak out. That web series is her life, and she doesn’t know what to do without. Santana steps up - and reminds Brittany how much she helped Santana out when Santana felt lost about not having direction in her job. She tells Brittany that they can find a new costar - or maybe this is a chance to find something new for Brittany to do - it’s now up for her to decide.

Episode 11.21: Disco Didn’t Die, It Was Murdered

[An AU-ish Episode]

The episode starts of in reality -- Kurt’s theater is almost finished, and as a way to celebrate, he invites everyone over to the theater so Kurt can host a variation on his murder mystery dinners - a musical murder mystery that they’ll play out for themselves. Everyone’s set for the evening, when Cooper Anderson arrives - in town because he wants to start being a good uncle early, and asks to be a part of the murder mystery -- insisting that he’s the detective. Kurt reluctantly gives in on this.

[As they start the play, the scene shifts to a more AU-ish setting of 40s noir. And plays out as if it were a real murder mystery. All the music is in the style of 40s genre pop covers - or all Post Modern Jukebox songs. I’m pretty sure Cooper would do great singing PMJ’s version of All Star.]

Cooper’s inner monologue narrates that he’s a detective, who comes to this hotel after a long day of drinking and love making and stopping bad guys. (Cooper keeps ad libbing and making up back story - to which Kurt’s fourth wall breaking voice interrupts telling him to stop changing his script.) Anyway, Cooper was just wanting a night off when he walked into the hotel full of seedy characters but he can’t always get nice things.

It’s not long before there’s a first victim -- an up-and-coming actress - Tina. (Tina breaks the fourth wall - claiming she’s upset that she’s the first one dead.) Detective Cooper decides to shut down the lounge so that they can interview everyone to figure out who the murder is.

Jesse and Rachel play an socialite and heiress respectively, flaunting all of their shadily earned money. Santana is the hotel owner - known for having mob connections. Brittany is the barkeep and knows everyone’s secrets. Artie is a mad-scientist willing to share his science discoveries with the highest bidder. Mercedes is a lounge singer, who has aspirations of being famous one day. Sam runs the security for the hotel, and is known to let things slip by. Kurt is a fashion morgal with shady beginnings. And Blaine is the mysterious piano player.

Cooper is tries to find out who did it, and what their motive is, but he’s notoriously bad for playing the game. One by one, the other players are killed off, until there are only three left - Kurt, Blaine, and Rachel. And Cooper suggests wild guess after wild guess as to who is responsible for the murders. At one point, Cooper suggests that Tina was faking her own death and she is the real murder (to which Tina likes - but Kurt says that’s not possible, so he needs to try again.) Cooper only has one guess before the murderer wins so he goes into a long soliloquy (like detectives normal do) determining who did it -- and lands on Rachel. He’s wrong, though, it’s actually Blaine.

But before Blaine can claim victory, and reveal his motives, Rachel goes into labor. The episode shifts back to reality as everyone gets excited about Rachel having the baby.

Episode 11.22: Someone’s Going to the Emergency Room, Someone’s Going to Jail

Rachel is indeed in labor - and when they get to the hospital, they find that it’s not going to be a quick birth. Kurt’s overly anxious - and yells at the staff when he’s at first not allowed to be in the room with Rachel. Once in, he is kind of all over the place -- crowding Rachel, making sure she’s okay. Rachel has to send him out. Mercedes is there to comfort him - and walks him around the hospital, while he talks about how hard it is not to have any control over this part of the process. And then starts worrying about all the possible things that could go wrong. Mercedes calms him down and tells him that he just has to have faith that everything will be alright.

Meanwhile - the hours drag on through the night. Cooper is still around - driving everyone crazy - until he hooks up with one of the nurses - who takes him home. Very early the next morning, Cooper comes back freaking out, holding a dead bird. He doesn’t explain how, but he has somehow managed to kill the nurse’s pet bird. Cooper doesn’t want the woman to know, and enlists Blaine and Sam (Sam who’s excited to have one last BLAM adventure) to buy a new one and replace it without the nurse knowing. Blaine is not in the mood to be dealing with Cooper’s shenanigans, but agrees to help so it’ll stop Cooper from causing any more trouble.

They eventually do fine a replacement bird, and Cooper takes them over to the woman’s apartment. [Cooper can’t just ring - because apparently, the night didn’t go well, and he doesn’t want to confront her.] When she leaves (for the grocery story) they try to get in through the window, but a neighbor calls the cops. Blaine and Sam are arrested, while Cooper was able to sneak away with the new bird. Blaine is freaking out having to go to jail, especially pissed off that it’s keeping him from the birth of his daughter. They call Cooper to get them out, but Cooper is too preoccupied with the bird - and says he’ll get them out when he gets rid of the bird.

Cooper enlists Brittany and Santana. The woman is at home again - and Santana pretends to be a salesman of beauty products while Brittany replaces the bird. Once it’s done, they get Blaine and Sam out of jail. Sam says it’s a good thing they’re going to a hospital because Blaine is probably going to murder Cooper.

Meanwhile, Tina and Artie, needing something to do, find places in the hospital to hook up - since they just got back together. They end up in a janitor’s closet, but their fooling around knocks down a bucket onto Artie’s head - and they have to get to the emergency room, where Artie finds out he has a concussion.

Rachel eventually has the baby, and Kurt and Blaine marvel at becoming dads. They name her Katharine Elizabeth Hummel-Anderson, and everyone loves her at first sight.

Episode 11.23: Everything’s Great

A week later - and Rachel is slowly beginning to feel like herself again. Jesse asks her if she’s plans on heading back to Jane Austen Sings! When she’s fully recovered - but Rachel isn’t sure she wants to. The girl who took her place is doing great, and Rachel thinks she might be ready for something new. Jesse hopes so - because he’s just had a new opportunity come his way - producing and directing a play over in London. Rachel has to think about it - New York has really become her home, but eventually tells Jesse that she’s ready to venture out to new things - just like she had all those years ago when she left Ohio for New York.

Burt and Carole, who’ve been staying with Kurt and Blaine, finally decide to leave. For the first time, the new parents are fully alone with their daughter, and the full realization that they are parents kind of hits them hard. Making things difficult is that Katie doesn’t want to sleep - and they begin attempting everything, from Kurt reading from his countless parenting books, to Blaine calling up the pediatrician. And on top of that - they’re trying to balance work related that aren’t stopping because they now have a child. They have a WTF are we doing moment - as they wonder if they can ever figure it out but eventually, they’re able to sing Katie to sleep, and joke that Katie was just testing them as parents. They realize they’re gonna spend a lot of time being tired - but when they look at her, they know she’s worth it.

Mercedes is being pressured into making a decision about the World Tour. She sits down with Sam, where they talk out their options. She doesn’t want to leave Sam alone for another four months, but Sam says he’s willing to come with her. Mercedes feels bad - and says she doesn’t want to keep compromising his life for her dreams. Sam says it’s his dream to be with her. Mercedes, touched, says he can come on the World Tour and that afterward maybe they can make their permanent home their place upstate - that way when Mercedes is not on tour, she can have a seclusive recording studio in the country, so Sam can feel at home, too, and so they can have a nice place to raise their kids.

Artie and Tina go to the film festival. The film doesn’t win any awards, but Artie is offered an assistant director position on a major film - which will shoot in Vancouver. Tina says she wants to go with him. Artie tells her he’s not going to let her follow him just because they’re together again. Tina tells him it’s not for him -- that she’s come to some realizations that she hates her job, and maybe she isn’t supposed to be a performer -- so she’s going to have him teach her everything he knows about filmmaking, and she’s going to try to do things behind the scenes now.

Brittany says they should start interviewing people to be her new cohost, so Santana sets up auditions. No one, however, is clicking with Brittany - and Brittany fears it might be the end of her show. Mary Hollaran comes back from Australia to visit - and offers to use her connections with Hollywood to find Brittany a new cohost. What ends up happening, however, is that they sell the show to a network, which develops a TV show out of the premise, which stars Brittany. Santana is fully on board, as there will be plenty of rich people who will need her services.

Episode 11.24: Mr. Schuester of Ohio

Will Schuester finally getting the expansion to his school, invites everyone back to Ohio for the opening of the new school. Everyone comes back into town - even some old faces they haven’t seen in a long time.

While they’re in Ohio, Kurt and Blaine take their daughter to see the newly rebuilt Dalton Academy - which is run by their old friend Trent. Brittany and Santana visit Santana’s grandmother and Brittany’s parents. Mercedes and Sam hang out with Will, Emma, and their kids. Artie and Tina visit Coach Beiste. Rachel and Jesse take a trip to Finn’s grave.

After the celebration of the opening of the new school, most of them head out for drinks, where they reminisce about old times, talk about thing that have never come up in the past ten years, reveal secrets, and generally catch up with people they haven’t spoken to in a long time. (Just where has Matt been all these years?!?) It’s a good night for reflection.

Before they head out and go their own separate ways, Will asks them to do one final performance - to which they all happily agree to do.

Episode 11.25: The Constant

Present Day: Artie is getting ready to go to Canada -- excited that he’ll be working on a major film (which is a major MCU film, btw). He asks Tina if she’s sure she wants to go with him. She’s sure. They head to Tina’s work, where she quits her job, stating that she’s tired of playing it safe, and she’s gonna try to make something of herself. Artie says he’s proud of her, and they share a kiss.

Flash Forward: Both Artie and Tina are dressed up for an awards show. At first it seems as though Artie might be winning award, since they are at a director’s award banquet, but it’s really Tina who’s been nominated, and she wins best director of a short film of her own making and her first real big success. Everyone clams for Tina, and she’s never been so proud of herself.

Present Day: Sam and Mercedes are preparing for Mercedes’s world tour. Sam almost seems more excited than Mercedes does, and has packed at least a dozen different language phrase books. Mercedes tells him as great as it is that he’s excited, she’s looking forward to coming home and starting a family with him. They sell their home in NYC, which make the move feel more permanent.

Flash Forward: Mercedes is working on her new album from her home studio in the country. You can see multiple Grammys on a case in the background. Mercedes takes a break and leans against the doorframe leading outside to watch Sam play football with their three boys. She couldn’t be happier.

Present Day: Brittany and Santana are packing a car for their road trip out west. The two share a moment of excitement as they hit the road, and arrive in LA ready to take it on.

Flash Forward: Santana’s on the set of Brittany’s TV show, which is now an acclaimed hit, watching proudly was Brittany works. Santana’s phone is going off -- one of her many clients is having a melt down, but she takes a moment to just enjoy watching her wife, before dealing with more craziness (which she loves).

Present Day: Kurt and Blaine are in their apartment. Kurt’s working on a new design for his fashion line, as well as talking to Elliott on the phone about possible first shows to go in the theater, while Blaine is holding Katie, and trying out melodies on the piano for a new musical. Their lives are hectic, but as the evening settles in, and they get to be a small family, they enjoy their life.

Flash Forward: Kurt and Blaine are preparing for a one-night only revival of Trapped in an Elevator: A Love Story, which stars themselves - as themselves, which they’re performing for charity. Included in the audience are Burt, Carole, Kurt and Blaine’s two daughters, Cooper, and both of Blaine’s parents. They go out celebrate afterwards.

Present Day: Rachel and Jesse shut out the lights in their apartment for a final time - and take a plane to London, a place that feels foreign to her as she arrives. She takes it all in, though,

Flash Forward: In a full circle moment - Rachel is finishing playing Fanny in the West End’s production of Funny Girl. She is met afterwards by Jesse and their young son -- and

Flashback (a week or so earlier): The group is having a final dinner at Kurt and Blaine’s to celebrate everyone going off onto new adventures. It’s a fun filled evening, though as it ending, Artie points out this might be the last time they will all ever be in the same room. Mercedes doesn’t think that’ll be true, but it’s a bittersweet realization nonetheless. Rachel brings it around - stating that even if they all go in different (new, haha) directions they’ll always have one constant - the music, which will always bring back the memories. As the show closes out - Rachel starts them off in one final song -- an acoustic version of Don’t Stop Believin’.

///

~END SERIES~

#s.o. writes things #glee's final season #okay - I felt a little something finishing this up #I think s11 is my favorite #lol #I'll get this up onto AO3

95 notes · View notes

priioritys · 6 years ago

Text

saga’s massive app intros pt. 1 aka 8 intros in one post and 9 more are coming soon because i’m a wreck of a human being and i’m trying not to spam the dash !! ya’ll know the drill !! hmu for plots or give this a like and i’ll bother you !!

TESSA TELLER looks an awful lot like GAL GADOT. SHE is TWENTY EIGHT and while they're BRAVE, they have a tendency to get pretty NAIVE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to WE MUST BE KILLERS by MIKKY EKKO.

exists only in the super & future verses because of Reasons you’ll see soon

grew up with a good family and a good life until she was about 14 when she ( super verse ) developed healing powers and was kidnapped by a malicious organization or ( future verse ) was kidnapped by a malicious organization

for years, she was experimented on and turned into, more or less, a bionic woman

large amounts of her body were replaced with technology, including large parts of her brain that led to her being brainwashed and controlled by the organization

she was used as a weapon for years, but eventually managed to break free and now she’s trying to figure out how to live a normal life

CASSIOPEIA LIU looks an awful lot like CHLOE BENNET. SHE is TWENTY THREE and while they're INQUISITIVE, they have a tendency to get pretty STUBBORN. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to SERA WAS NEVER by RANEY SHOCKNE.

3000 feet of Angery in a 5′4″ body

raised by a single dad that was the best and she loved him more than anything

her town was tormented by a serial killer for a long time but the killings eventually stopped around the same time her dad disappeared

everyone decided that meant her dad was the killer but cas was having none of that

so she packed up everything she owned in to her VW van and decided to go on a road trip to find her dad and prove his innocence

CORIANDER WHITTLE looks an awful lot like THOMAS MCDONELL. HE is TWENTY FOUR and while they're GENTLE, they have a tendency to get pretty SELFLESS. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to HELLO MY OLD HEART by THE OH HELLOS.

had a really good childhood and grew up really happy and things should have been fine but then his little sister joined a cult

he ended up joining the cult in an attempt to save her, but she was too brainwashed and refused to leave

he tried to escape, but he was caught and punished several times, leaving him physically disabled and mentally traumatized

EVENTUALLY, he managed to escape fully but he still lives every day in fear of being found by the cult and forced to go back

FINNICK PORTER looks an awful lot like DYLAN SPRAYBERRY. HE is EIGHTEEN and while they're DETERMINED, they have a tendency to get pretty FRAGILE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to AFTER THE STORM by MUMFORD AND SONS.

was a total jock and douche-y rich kid tbh

thought he was the best thing that ever happened to anybody and everyone should consider themselves lucky to even speak to him

then he went on a trip with his family to a remote cabin up in the mountains and tragedy struck

there was an avalanche and they were trapped - he was the only one to make it out alive and he had to do horrible things to survive

now he’s rightfully traumatized and attempting college but doing really badly at being alive

HADRIEL ALEXANDER looks an awful lot like SAM CLAFLIN. HE is THIRTY and while they're FORGIVING, they have a tendency to get pretty SOFT SPOKEN. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to GRAVEYARD WHISTLING by NOTHING BUT THIEVES.

raised by super religious parents with horrible senses of morality that were driven more by greed than any holiness

they forced him to be part of their travelling ministry as part of a con act where he would pretend to heal people

he hated everything about it, but he was abused when he tried to speak up or tell anyone the truth

that went on for years until he was finally rescued

after readjusting to life away from his parents, he decided to rediscover his faith outside of them

he became a preacher, establishing himself in a church in kola and hoping to help people who had suffered like him

RONAN FISHER looks an awful lot like BOB MORLEY. HE is TWENTY NINE and while they're INTUITIVE, they have a tendency to get pretty RESENTFUL. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to SHADOW PREACHERS by ZELLA DAY.

only exists in the super verse because he has visions of the future

his parents loved him, but after he predicted his mother’s death in a car wreck and it came true, things were never the same

he even saw when and how his future wife would die on the first day they met, but decided to marry her anyway because he wanted to ignore his visions

tried to save her, but ended up just shifting fate so that his sister died instead and his wife died only a year later from cancer

now he’s bitter and angry and doesn’t care about anyone in the world because he doesn’t want to be hurt by what he sees anymore

ASTORIA WHITMAN looks an awful lot like LILY JAMES. SHE is TWENTY SIX and while they're OPTIMISTIC, they have a tendency to get pretty SELF-HATING. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to HURRICANE by FLEURIE.

was raised in a pretty conservative family, but loved it because she didn’t know anything better

she was treated like an object more than anything, home schooled and constantly lectured about how nothing was more important than staying pristine and holy

so when she started realizing that girls were just as pretty as boys, well, it wasn’t good news

after she went to college and finally got away from her parents, she got herself a girlfriend but someone saw them together and sent a picture back to her parents

they had a falling out and disowned her completely, leaving her to fend for herself

now, six years later, she’s happily working as a waitress in kola, glad to be free of their oppressive weight

SOPHIE DETTWILER looks an awful lot like SAOIRSE RONAN. SHE is TWENTY and while they're RESOURCEFUL, they have a tendency to get pretty STANDOFFISH. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to RAISE THE DEAD by RACHEL RABIN.

had a good family growing up, but lost her father and older brother in a car accident when she was ten

the same accident left her scarred, but more noticeably damaged her vocal chords to the point where she can no longer talk without a severe stutter, so she usually chooses not to

despite this, she’s still a punk ass bitch, will probably try to fight you while signing that ur a lame ass bitch

#fckit:intro #kidnapping tw #torture tw #experimentation tw #murder tw #cannibalism tw #hey saga you write about fucked up shit #hey yeah ur not wrong #child abuse tw #homophobia tw

7 notes · View notes

missrkl · 4 years ago

Text

Descendants of Acts 2 Chapter Ten

Facing a dilemma that’s what Rachel was doing right now. Her friend Ryan was really struggling to come to terms with Rachel’s belief. He truly could not comprehend. Rachel on the other hand was facing the struggle of having to open her mouth and speak. She didn’t realise how hard this would be in real life or that people could be so difficult. You see Rachel was a recluse, she always kept to herself, large crowds frightened her and especially those crowds that were happy and joyful all of the time. The one’s that were extremely loud bothered her a great deal. Rachel had let Ryan talk for a long time, she had listened to all his views about God and how he really saw the world and everything. Rachel, if anything, was a really good listener. She was also a good observer. Rachel remembered the book she was currently reading, Soul Talk by Larry Crabb. He had mentioned a few things that she thought maybe she could try. Would it be helpful, Rachel had wondered to herself. It was not like she was talking to a saved person, and it wasn’t like he would be wiling to be extremely open with him. Rachel also had to face the facts, she wasn’t a good communicator. She clammed up whenever anyone put her on the spot, especially with strangers.

Rachel remembered in Bible school Pastor Gabriel asking the class if anyone had questions, she did, but she chose not to say anything, she really was not comfortable asking the question in front of the whole class, having a discussion with an entire class or have the teacher address her concerns in front of the entire class. if her question was questionable it would be less embarassing with it just being the teacher and her. Rachel knew pastor Gabriel did not like students coming up to him after the class to ask questions when he had already asked in front of the class if anyone had any questions. That was how nervous she was about speaking or communicating with people in a crowded room. One to ones were great, but it also depended on the one person in question, and right now Ryan had not made it easy. Plus Rachel had not completely finished the Soul Talk book yet so she did not feel ready to practice it just yet, most especially on an unbeliever.

Rachel made a silent prayer as she sat there in front of Ryan in the garden. Ryan was quiet now eating his cake and drinking his tea and waiting for her response. Rachel wondered what to do, she was waiting for something from God, some word, something, anything. Panic beginning to rise within herself she felt her cheeks go slightly red, she needed to do or say something and quickly. Rachel then relayed the story Pastor Bruce had told the church during one of his sermons. The watch. There was a watch found by some people in the middle of the forest, they picked it up and saw all the intricate details of how it was made, the minute hand, the hour hand, the numbers, the design of the watch. They had looked in the back and saw all the little things that made the watch work. The person in question did not come to the conclusion that BOOM this watch just HAPPENED like a BIG BANG into existence. There was proof, evidence, obviously, someone had to have made CREATED this watch. Every intricate detail showed that. Everything had purpose. So Rachel retold Pastor Bruce short story sermon of how that relates to us humans and planet earth. Every detail, atom, cell, blood, etc everything was created, everything had purpose. Rachel even copied Pastor Bruce by asking the very same questions. If a big bang created this earth, why is there no more big bangs and something else coming out of nothing?

Ryan was silent. Silently impressed with her response, he was at a loss for words. Clearly he had underestimated Rachel. He did not think that she would have a response. He had expected her to be like all the other foolish christians out there who he had met who’s only response was JUST BELIEVE, HAVE FAITH, OUR GOD IS REAL! Rachel made sense, Rachel spoke truth. A watch indeed was created by somebody, it wouldn’t just HAPPEN to grow or be in the forest. Even more so human beings. Even more so planet earth. Ryan was a proud man, he would not be outranked by a female. He had to think of something quickly. Something to prove Rachel wrong. As he pretended to eat more cake and check his phone and drink the tea, Rachel continued with science this time, science and faith. How was the earth held up in space by nothing? How was the sun so perfectly set in the right place to warm earth and not burn earth to death. Coincidence? Again, another Pastor Bruce sermon. Rachel was good. Ryan could not think of anything else to say, so he remained silent for this time and let Rachel talk. Rachel was not sure how she was doing, she wasn’t used to talking so much, thank God for her pastors at church. They always came in handy. The best one was pastor Gabriel for her relationship talks with her bestfriend who also was a man, and Pastor Bruce for his theological realities, which was apparently Calvanistic according to some preacher friend of her, whatever that meant.

Ryan decided to change the topic of conversation and they soon began talking about their love lives. Ryan had no girlfriend yet, and Rachel was not in a relationship either. Was there any on the horizon he had asked her. Rachel mentioned Matt and Fabio, two people she liked, plus one more secret one that she refused to give the name of. Yet Rachel also stated that it was very unlikely that they would take any interest in her. Rachel confided that she felt that they were not being very nice because they did not want to get to know her and just judged her based on her social media accounts. Ryan had asked what she had meant by that but she refused to divulge. Ryan decided to let it go and Rachel felt relieved. Rachel loved Ryan, he was a good friend, albeit an atheist, but a good listener as well when he wanted to be. They were close but not so close. Rachel chose those with whom she would divulge such intimate details of her life, and she had shared some with some men in the church, but they had hurt her by blocking her online, rejecting her advances at trying to create friendship between them and she being a very honest and open person when she feels comfortable was hurt and angry about this. Yet she could not deny her feelings for any of them. In her dreams she could have any pick of man in the house of God, in none dream world she had zero picks and zero chances. They all seemed the same anyways. Rachel sighed, both topics of conversation were hard for her.

Rachel soon saw Ryan off. She planned to discuss these things with David in the online world of The bible game. Virtual worlds, less awkward than reality, less tense, less hard, and you can hide your face whenever you wanted. Rachel felt safe here, no one could touch her here. No one could harm her, or so she kept telling herself. Rachel’s greatest flaw? Trying so hard to impress others that even in online world she could get hurt, which she refuses to face, refuses to believe. That Matt hurt her online, Fabio hurt her online, and so many others. Rachel could just shut them down just as much as they shut her down, therefore everything was buried, nothing was sorted, nothing was fixed, everything hidden. As Rachel cleaned up and decided to log on, she hoped and prayed that her conversation with Ryan about God made him think twice about his atheistic beliefs.Saving a ctitizen in the real world was not as easy as saving citizens in the virtual game of The Holy Bible Descendants of Acts 2. Clearly she needed a spiritual upgrade, or maybe a theological one.

0 notes

polkari-seuta · 7 years ago

Text

[Fic Request] Celebrity Crush

Eh-heh, please ignore the parts that say, “2 years ago”...

Anyway, here’s a two-fer. Sorry that I took so long. I doubt the anons who requested these prompts are even around anymore, but I can’t leave a prompt undone, even if it takes another two years.

Title: Celebrity Crush Word Count: 2.6k Pairing: Jikook Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant; kind of humorous, too, I guess Summary: Jungkook thought bringing up celebrity crushes with his boyfriend Jimin would be fun, but it bit him in the butt.

Also on AO3.

Beta-ed by the awesome @jikookielove

Jungkook really enjoyed his and his boyfriend Jimin's post-coital conversations. After the intense heat of sex and passionate love, it felt good to laugh and just enjoy each other's company.

Right now, Jimin was curled under the old faded yellow duvet (Jungkook made a mental note to buy him another), pressed against him, his legs nudged between Jungkook's. Their bodies were warm and a little sticky, but familiar and filled with easy comfort.

"You know how some couples give their boyfriend or girlfriend a pass on celebrity crushes?" Jungkook brought up, sliding a hand idly up Jimin's waist.

"Hm?" Jimin uttered, his voice soft and gravelly, "What do you mean?"

"Like if you were to let me cheat on you with one celebrity in the world, who—"

"Jungkook, what the hell?" Jimin cut in indignantly, poking him hard in the chest. "What kind of couple does that?"

"It's just for fun, baby," Jungkook soothed, kissing his nose. "I wouldn’t really cheat on you. It's just…" Now, he felt bad. It seemed more amusing when he read about it on the internet. "Eh, forget I said anything."

But then Jimin let out a relenting sigh. He burrowed himself further into Jungkook, as if he could lose physical contact with him any second, "No, no, sorry. I'll humor you. Who's your celebrity crush? Wait—IU, right?"

Jungkook giggled and kissed him again; this time on the top of his head. "You know it."

"You're so predictable." Jimin said it in a scoff, but something mild still laced itself through. "But sure. If we were in some twisted universe, I'd allow you to fuck IU… only once, though."

"Once would be all I'd need."

Jimin scowled. He still looked uncomfortable about it. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

Jungkook didn't want him to go to bed feeling crappy. "Jimin-baby, we don't have to keep talking about it. I know it bothers you—"

"No, no…" Jimin was getting stubborn.

"Fine. How about you?"

"Me?"

"You have a celebrity crush, don't you?" Jungkook went through a mental list of people he recalled Jimin answering with in interviews and random conversation—strangely, he had more vivid memories of Jimin and his preferences than his own. He expected Taeyang from Big Bang. Or the choreographer Brian Puspos. And didn't he say Rachel McAdams one time?

But instead, what came out of his mouth was, "Lee Taemin."

Jungkook's heart sank into his gut. He pulled back to stare at his boyfriend, bewildered. "What?"

Jimin looked confused by his reaction, his eyes wide and far too sweet for the irritation he currently caused him. Maybe he didn't really understand this 'game,' but regardless… "Lee… Taemin? You know—"

"Yeah, I know," Jungkook interrupted, his jaw tense. "Your friend. That doesn't count. Your friends don't count."

"Jungkook-ah, he was my celebrity crush before he was ever my friend."

"Babe, he doesn't count anymore. I'll never let you fuck Lee Taemin."

"Jungkook, I would never, ever—"

"Choose someone else."

Jimin felt his boyfriend's frustration and let out a little huff of breath through his nose. "You said this was for fun, Jungkook-ah."

"It's fun when the celebrity is unobtainable." Jungkook knew he was being petulant, but now he felt all sorts of insecure. "You're far too close to Lee Taemin."

Jimin reached over to glide his thumb over the tight, massive frown on Jungkook's face. "See, baby? Not such a fun thing to talk about."

"That's 'cause you ruined it."

"You know I'd never cheat on you. I mean, you do know that, right?"

Jungkook sighed, his eyes fluttering closed when Jimin moved his thumb over his cheek in a warm, tender caress. "I know."

"I'm sorry, Kookoo-ah." Jungkook felt Jimin wrap himself around him with affection. "I have a better answer, okay? How about Taeyang?"

"Big Bang?"

"Mm-hm."

Jungkook sighed in relief and reopened his eyes. His gaze instantly found Jimin's. His love, his life. The only person he wanted to wake up to forever.

Never Lee Taemin's. Ever. Not for a second.

"I'll allow it."

"SHINee's gonna be there," Jungkook told Seokjin in a deadpan. "SHINee. At Music Bank in Singapore."

"Yeah?" Seokjin stared at him warily. "What about them?"

"That means Lee Taemin's gonna be there."

"I mean, I don't see why he wouldn't? Don't tell me you're jealous of Taemin. Jimin is far too devoted to you to—"

"Still." Jungkook sat himself down on the edge of Seokjin's bed—right on top of the pile of clothes that the latter was just about to put into the open luggage next to him. "He's going to be there and he's… he's going to talk to my boyfriend."

"Oh, boy, talking," Seokjin remarked with a roll of his eyes. "With one of his best friends. Come on, Kook. You need to have more faith in Jimin than that. Trust him."

"Lee Taemin's not the one with these stupid rules from the staff. I don't even get to touch my own boyfriend during the show."

"You can't keep from being gross with him for half a day?" Seokjin asked, slapping Jungkook's thigh so he would get off his clothes. "You can save your nastiness for afterward."

Seokjin wasn't sympathetic at all, so Jungkook left his room. No one else—not even Jimin—seemed to be around, so Jungkook sulked back to his own room to take out his frustrations out on video games.

His mood didn't get too much better when the group finally got onto the plane the next day. Jimin did his best to cheer him up, but all Jungkook did in return was complain to him about Lee Taemin being there, super cool and talented and hot. Lee Taemin, Jimin's celebrity crush who he considered fucking.

"Jungkook-ah, c'mon. You know me and you know it's not like that…"

Jungkook pretended to ignore him and continued to glare daggers out the window. There wasn't anything fascinating about the stillness of the concrete, but he just felt too petty to entertain his boyfriend.

"Jungkook-ah…"

Why the hell did Jimin sound so playful? Was his predicament funny to him?

No, you idiot, logic berated him. Jimin loves you. He's trying to make you feel better.

So, Jungkook, being the gracious guy that he was, finally looked back over at his boyfriend.

"What, hyung?"

Jimin stopped to briefly furrow a brow at him. He had grown accustomed to Jungkook dropping the honorifics—they got close enough for Jimin to allow that, to expect that. He only used hyung for broadcast or when speaking to staff or people of authority.

"Nothing," Jimin said. "I just love you."

"Hmph."

Jimin grinned as he lifted the armrest between them. Then he leaned over to kiss Jungkook's massive pout. "I love only you, Kookoo-ah," he cooed.

Jungkook flushed at the nickname. It was somewhat embarrassing, although endearing, hearing it in public.

"You love everyone," Jungkook retorted.

Jimin remained undeterred by his mood, his body twisting slightly so they pressed against each other better as he kissed him again, sakura petal-soft at the corner of his lips. "But Kookoo-ah…"

Jungkook felt an insistent twinge in his heart. God, Jimin really did love him. But Jungkook was way more stubborn than Jimin could ever be.

"I bet you're looking forward to seeing Lee Taemin—"

Jimin slid his lips fully against his for a few seconds of pure, unadulterated bliss. The twinge expanded, blossoming into something sweet and spellbinding. Their kisses, even up to now, never lost their magic.

"Kookoo-ah," Jimin persisted softly. "Please."

Jungkook's insecurity melted with each reassuring kiss, each utterance of Kookoo.

There was no way he could resist Jimin, so of course the extra attention made him feel a lot better.

At least, for now.

Other than rehearsing with the group, performing with the group, and overall being unable to breathe because of the constant surrounding of the group, Jungkook barely saw Jimin. When they finally had time to sit down together, they were both too tired to hold a long conversation.

Jungkook was glad when the concerts were over and done with. Now all he had left was the ending stage with the rest of the idols who participated in the concert.

Including Lee Taemin.

Jungkook was lightning fast in spotting Jimin with him downstage, lost in animated conversation. Gossiping probably, but his mind liked to play tricks.

I hope Jimin tells him how great of a boyfriend I am, Jungkook thought with spite.

He moved on to where the rest of Bangtan stood near them, but he couldn't help a second look at Taemin. He hoped the guy felt the scorching hot stare melt his brain.

"Babe," Jungkook whispered as he passed behind Jimin. He said it extra pointedly, too. Damn right—Jimin was Jungkook's babe.

"I'll be there in a bit," Jimin responded without looking at him, much to Jungkook's dismay.

Lee Taemin himself tossed him no more than a glance, nodding politely before turning back to Jimin.

Jungkook briefly considered breaking the rules of don't push your affection in front of cameras, especially at major events like this and you're to indulge your fans, not your personal significant others to reel Jimin away, but he was better than that. Jimin expected him to be mature about it, so he was just going to trust him to join them later, like he should.

Jimin never made his way back to the group. He, Taemin, and the rest of SHINee seemed to have shifted away, even, and that irritated Jungkook.

He tried to think about other things—Bangtan's success, the extravagant dinner promised to them by staff after the concert. He even thought a lot about future hectic scheduling, but all he really did was glower at Taemin, hoping the words Jimin is Jeon Jungkook's reached his head somehow.

It wasn't until the mass of idols herded themselves offstage to the dressing room hallways did Jungkook manage to bump into Jimin. Imagine—bumping into his own boyfriend like they were mere, unattached acquaintances, like they hadn't seen each other in a while.

"Hey, sweetie," Jimin chirped, smiling brightly at him.

"Hi," Jungkook said, a little curt, and hooked his arm possessively around Jimin's neck.

Jimin laughed a little as he collided lightly into his side. He seemed a little concerned. "Are you okay, Jungkook-ah?"

"Now that you're finally here, yeah." Jungkook couldn't help the shade, but he always had trouble pretending in front of Jimin, who always caught on quick.

"I haven't seen Taeminnie-hyung in a while. Is my talking to him bothering you?"

"Well…" Jungkook had no right to be so jealous. They were friends. A damn stupid celebrity crush, but good friends. Jimin needed at least one of those outside the group. After all, Jungkook had his own.

With that in mind, he just sighed, loosening the territorial hold on him. "Sorry, baby."

"Don't worry about it." Jimin reached for the hand around him and sneaked a kiss onto it, mouthing Kookoo-ah against his skin. Jungkook liked to think the name became permanent there, a tattoo that told the world whose name it was, and who it belonged to.

But no more than a day later, the calm formed a storm.

Jungkook threw his phone across his room. It pathetically just missed the wall, its arc too low as it landed on the carpet.

He hated Lee Taemin.

Jimin called him a good friend, a funny hyung, but Jimin had Jungkook. His boyfriend of nearly two years should suffice as a good friend and more.

So, there was no reason for Jimin to have sneaked off with Taemin at some empty area backstage, for them to face each other so intimately as they talked. Jimin had been so casual when he told Jungkook about him after the concert—he and Taemin hadn't seen each other in so damn long and he missed him.

There shouldn't have been photographic evidence shot in a way that elicited suspicion and scandal. Now everyone on the internet was talking about them. Them, and not the subtle moments between himself and Jimin that he knew existed for everyone to ponder.

"Baby, why is your phone way over there?"

Speak of the devil.

"I threw it," Jungkook admitted in an annoyed voice.

Jimin tsked as he walked past him to retrieve it. "What are you mad about?"

"Nothing."

"Baby," Jimin warned lightly.

"You," Jungkook grumbled.

Jimin frowned and then glanced down at the phone—still showing the photograph.

"Jungkook," Jimin sighed. "We didn't do anything. These photos aren't what you think they are."

"Everyone ships you two."

"Ship? What are you talking about?"

"The fans think you two look adorable together. You. And Lee Taemin. As a couple."

"You shouldn't look at comments like those, baby." Jimin walked over to him. He had such a cute, irresistible pout up close, but Jungkook was still furious. "Don't fans do that sort of thing with everyone? About you and me, too?"

"Not as much as Park Jimin and Lee Taemin, who snuck off backstage by themselves. When did you even go, anyway?"

Jimin shrugged. "I probably went to the bathroom and bumped into him."

Jungkook scowled. "And you needed to let him drag you to some dark corner for a post-pee chat."

"The bathroom was right by there. It was convenient. Jungkook, you're best friends with Yugyeom. You'd probably do the same thing."

"No, I wouldn't!"

Jimin's form grew rigid at the rise in Jungkook's voice.

"I don't want to argue, Jungkook," he muttered after a moment's pause. "But I love you; I really do. Even if the fans think I'm dating someone else, you and I both know that my heart belongs to you."

Jungkook chewed the bottom of his lip. My heart belongs to you hit home, carving guilt into his heart with the sharpest of knives.

In his silence, Jimin stepped into his space and wrapped his arms around his waist. He held him tight, protective enough to make up for Jungkook's recent insecurities.

"Believe me, baby," Jimin continued, resting his cheek against Jungkook's as he murmured into his ear. "I know how it feels. Did you ever notice the amount of hate I get from certain fans when I supposedly get between you and Taehyung?"

Jungkook blinked with confusion as he folded his arms over Jimin's shoulders. "What does he have to do with you and me?"

"Exactly." Jimin sounded hurt. "They… would rather see you two together, even though I consider you the love of my life. They get heated over you and Tae having some sort of affair."

Jungkook never noticed. He pulled back to run gentle hands through Jimin's hair and cup his face. His boyfriend's eyes shined with tears from the unfortunate recollection. "Baby, I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me?"

Jimin's smile was faint but genuine. "Because I know that you love me. And I know Taehyung's not like that. You're not like that. I don't worry a lot about it because of all of those things."

Jungkook tilted his head downward for a kiss on the lips.

He shouldn't worry, either.

"I'll reassure you as much as you want, if you need me to," Jimin told him. "I shouldn't have said Taemin's name in that conversation. I don't want you to think—"

"Jimin, it's fine. Let's just forget we ever talked about it." Partly because he still had his insecure moments from time to time, but mostly because Seokjin was right—he needed to trust Jimin. They've gotten this far together, almost two years now, and they were doing quite awesome.

"Honestly, you'd make a better celebrity crush," Jimin said cheekily.

"Oh, please," Jungkook laughed, pecking him on the nose. "And you call me cheesy. And what'd I say about unobtainable?"

Jimin didn't counter him. Instead, he kissed Jungkook; slow, steady, tranquil. The kiss formed holes in the memory of Lee Taemin the celebrity crush, eroding it to the nothing it should be.

Even if the photos stuck around on the internet, and even if the fans liked to think or postulate otherwise, Jimin, in reality, belonged to Jungkook, and only that mattered.

[ masterlist ]

#jikook #kookmin #9597net #jikooknet #jeonlous #bts #bangtan #kpop #rpf #rps #fanfiction #plkrst fic

112 notes · View notes

aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years ago

Text

Life Story - PART 91

I had two kinds of days that spring. I had days where I wanted to die, and I had days where I wanted to live more than I ever had. I was living in two separate realities, and when these realities hit my days were bad. The good days were subdivided into two. Days I followed around Sarah and Zack, trying in vein to make sense of the inexplicable rage/sadness – and oddly freeing feeling of being made new again, and the days I spent at home alone feeling justifiably individuated and independent for the first time in my life.

I spent time with Sarah and Zack – emotionally gauging my reaction to their relationship. This whole thing, it all went down so fast. I never had a chance to grab onto anything. I just fell. Seeing Zack and Sarah together was absolutely mind boggling. And I couldn't tell how I felt about this whole matter I couldn't decide if I loved or hate them both. I don't know that my mind had time yet to process all that had happened. I couldn't make sense of what had gone wrong. I couldn't tell if I deserved it or not. Part of me thought so, part of me thought not. Another part of me saw it as fate, and yet another side of me saw it as some random cruel joke.

With Sarah, it stung. I seriously wondered sometimes if I hated Sarah – there was some part of me that wanted to break her bones, pull her hair. She had betrayed me. Besides Rachelle, my childhood friend and maybe my younger sister Allison, Sarah had been one of the only people I really had ever bonded with. And she had been a good friend. I couldn't ignore that. I was so confused. I pondered on the idea that maybe I was jealous. But when it came down to it, I no longer wanted Zack around me all that much. He didn't seem like a prize anymore. I cared about him – but at a safe distance and the care was becoming more of a pity care – a care that I manufactured because I was too ashamed to face the fact that I had harbored and put so much love and affections and poetic ideals towards a person who might well have been one of the dumbest assholes I had ever met in my life. I had to find some way to redeem him, and more importantly redeem Sarah.

It was strange to think about Sarah and what she had done and then actually see her in person – I couldn't comprehend that my best most closest person was being nice to me – albeit in this spineless self deprecating phony guilt ridden way – and at the same time she had stabbed me to get what she wanted. She didn't even wait to think about it. Not for her own sake and much less for mine. It was hard t believe at times that someone who had done something awful to me was also someone who made a great effort to make me happy and had actually extended her time and efforts so tirelessly those last two years to rise me up – only to do something that forever would in some way – knock down a part of me permanently. Aside from all my anger and hurt – I was beginning to lose faith in her. I didn't know if I really wanted or appreciated her friendship anymore – and that was a frightening thought. If I didn't want her friendship anymore, then I was alone in the universe wasn't I? Not that I had ever not been alone in the universe, but now it seemed all too real. The universe within and without were void of friends I could count on. I was on my own now. Everything was up in the air.

I proceeded with my life by first telling Zack how I had felt all those years between high school and now – it was too late and it probably didn't matter. But this was my way of burying this fucker for good and all. It wasn't for him. It was for me. It was something I had never been brave enough to do – never in a million years could I have envisioned myself telling him that I had been in love with him and I cared about him deeply. But I did it. Separate from Sarah, I looked him in the face and told him the truth. And what was there to lose? Life was too short to hold onto these thing anymore. And I wasn't doing this to get him back – my feelings were mixed but I was mostly sure that I didn't want him at all. There was some deep ingrained part of me that wanted to take him from Sarah, but what in the end would that do? It would actually make Sarah feel better about herself. I think a part of her wanted that to happen. No, she needed to be with Zack. She needed to look at her decision when she woke up in the morning. I was on my own, and she was on her own.

I had no intentions of doing this for any reason other than I felt like, to grow past all of this I had to find closure – and closure meant being perfectly honest. Not pretending I had some kind of ace, or hiding away hoping for some second opportunity. I was willing to be vulnerably honest with everyone in a way they had all been too chicken to be towards me. Because the trauma of this entire ordeal had ripped the skin off my back anyway. I already was vulnerable. I was more vulnerable than I had ever remembered being. It was frightening – but I wasn't going to waste the pain. If I was to lose what little boundaries I had built, then the world was going to see me for what I was and I was going to gallantly explore and reveal what most people in the world of people are too afraid to explore and reveal about themselves.

This would end once and for all the chapter of my life. Everything was out in the open. There were no more secrets floating around. I was honest with myself. In order to properly get alone with Zack to tell him the truth – a truth he didn't want to hear, we took one last drive alone. We stopped outside of the Safeway parking lot that overlooked the city of Lewiston and the rivers and hills beyond. The sky was gray. He looked down and said nothing for most of it. I could tell it was inconvenient and it made him uncomfortable, but I didn't care anymore. I explained the day my father had beaten me up for finding out that I had hung around him and Jason, when Jason was still around. It made him uncomfortable to hear any of it, and I noted that any reminded that I had some kind of will of my own made him uncomfortable. I took note that this was a great weakness. He had no problems dulling out all kinds of religious mumbo at me, or talking about my purpose, but as soon as I took my purpose into my own hands he could barely stand it. I remember realizing with clarity in that situation that this was not the kind of person I wanted to be with. I wanted to be able to be open and honest and unashamed. Zack would never have been good for me, even in the most ideal of situations

It was a turning point for me, not holding things in anymore, as I had been raised to do. Silently, I had grown up in a household, a school and a community, and really honestly a society that had robbed me of a voice. I had always second guessed myself, and always been somewhat ashamed when I didn't agree with people. It didn't stop me from doing it, but I always felt like I had to hide my thoughts away from people. This was me fighting against those impulses I had in myself that had been driven into my head. Life was an essence, time was short. There was no reason for me to waste time feeling shame based on the discomfort other people had with themselves that they projected onto me. I no longer cared or felt the need to reserve or hide anything.

I was curious about Zack's relationship to drugs. It had always been some part of his life, a rather big part. In school it had seemed almost Romantic from my limited school girl perspective. And now, I was beginning to see another side of that drug use. He was an addict, and it pretty much went hand in hand with all his other bad characteristics. Sarah seemed to tell herself stuff about Zack, but I notice she rarely asked him questions – she didn't want to know. She wanted so badly to blindly fall into this relationship knowing that her essence was enough to save Zack from his addictions. Sarah was a fool about drugs. She didn't understand what an addiction really was. She just wanted to be the angel that Zack had made her out to be so badly she refused to understand it anymore than that.

So while we were in the parking lot, after I had told Zack my final feelings, I started to ask Zack questions pertaining how he was going to honor his relationship. Was he going to step up now that he had Sarah? Because he had been living like a bum for the last six years. I coaxed him into talking more openly about his love for drugs – and this was what I really wanted to understand. I wanted him to feel comfortable telling me about the things he probably wasn't going to say to Sarah. I asked him questions, and it wasn't hard to peak his interest in talking about it. When I talk about drugs with him, his eyes lit up, and his voice took on this weird loving tone. I knew he wasn't done with drugs, but this gave me a very good understanding that he wasn't even close to done. His eyes lit up brighter than they ever did for anyone or anything else, music, Sarah, cars, food, sleep.

Zack's one true love in life was meth and I knew it was going to hurt when Sarah finally realized that fully – he would never change for her. You could never really love Zack in a way. He could never be owned. He was destructive by nature. Even if he had been clean he would have been destructive and ignorant of himself. I asked him about the first time he ever got stoned. It was probably one of the clearest and most concise conversations I ever had with Zack. Our understanding of one another was at it's most clear. He smiled and looked into the distance. And then he told me this story about being ten or eleven. He had spent the evening skiing on a mountain with a cousin of his in Minnesota who was much older. His cousin had thought it would be cool to get Zack stoned to see what he would do. Zack explained in great detail all the fun it had been – how it had transformed his world and became all he cared about. By talking about it, I could tell he was reliving the details with fondness. He had never been so happy in his life. And he in all honesty had never turned his back from drugs again. From then on, he defined himself with the drugs.

The love Zack had for this memory was compelling enough for me upon reflection to assess that Zack might very well die of an overdose of some kind – he probably wouldn't even care. Right now, he hoped Sarah could somehow be a drug that would replace the other drugs. But I knew it wouldn't last. He was already losing interest. Zack wasn't really meant for this life. He couldn't handle the structure of things – in a very fundamental way. Perhaps as a teenager it had made him seem Dionysian and real in our limited structures that we both suffered through in school. But outside of that, he had no ability to make anything of himself or care about anyone but himself. He had no interest in anything life had to offer, he was against the consistency of even having friends. He was a drifter with no hope. He honestly only cared about being high – and having the kinds of religious epiphanies he felt he could extract from his drug use.

He had no morals either, outside of someone taking his drugs away from him or preventing him from using – he had no real care for anyone or anything else, and it was funny how he talked about love because for all his talk, I don't think he understood anything about self sacrifice. Love to him was his ability to be given what he wanted from other people with ease. He seemed to have no real understanding of love, and though he felt close to some people on some level I doubt he loved anyone. Not Sarah, his mother or father or sister – or some potential future version of himself that he had to live up to. He couldn't even comprehend what it meant to be someone like me who had to fight and earn my sanity and my body and my minuscule place in the world. He didn't idealize or work towards goals. Many things had been given to him. If he shaped up – Zack could be very handsome and people wanted to be around him. He was gifted in music and mechanical skill. People naturally liked Zack even though he had nothing to offer – people would give him things just for existing. Had he wanted to go to college, he could have. His family had a lot of money.

He couldn't put himself in my shoes and to give him credit, he in all honesty never understood me. I had liked to fantasize at one time that he did understand me, but that was a complete fantasy I had drummed up in order to not feel alone. It wasn't a lie that Zack and I had shared a connection when we were kids. But it hadn't been the ongoing thing that I had thought it did. I had almost turned him into some kind of romantic literary icon. Even with the shock of his return – which understandably had sent me for a loop, it didn't mean things were going to go the way I had fantasized. Whatever that meant, it was beyond my understanding of why Zack arrived at my door. I will never understand why the universe saw fit to put him before me, or if it was me who did it or just one of those things that happens and there was never a rhyme or reason for. It didn't matter anymore because I didn't want to be a part of this story anymore. I was assessing my situation, and then I wanted to scram.

Sarah I could tell felt funny about me being so honest now – it was in contrast to her deceitfulness. It's like she wanted me to be honest – hoping that this was a sign that all was well and good now. That this was somehow her and Zack's doing. She had internalized her guilt and I feel she was rather in denial of what she was day to day getting herself deeper and deeper into. She didn't want to think – she wanted to experience her new relationship and pretend she was free from any sort of outcome from her bad choices. She wanted to believe there was magic at the end that would surely protect her from anything that was coming her way. This ignorance in her eyes when she felt this way was startling. I was suffering immensely and somehow she was under some false illusion that her decisions wouldn't come back to haunt her.

She was mixed up, and I the more I studied her, the more pathetic and confused she seemed. She almost seemed mentally ill. Maybe she had been this way for a long time. It was all compartmentalized in some safe inside her mind. The safe was now broken. She had made her bed, and she wasn't liking it, but she didn't know how to get out and wanted to believe it was the best bed in the world. Her voice had changed. Even her posture had changed. She slouched both like someone insecure and someone sly, and wouldn't look me in the eye directly when I spoke to her, which was very unlike her normal intense eye contact she was well known for. It felt like she was either trying to puff herself up to being more certain of herself than she actually was, or she was trying to slink around everyone like she knew she was some kind of conman. In either case, she wasn't there for me and probably wasn't a real friend of mine anymore even when both she and I were in denial of that fact – she and Zack spoke the big talk about my well being as long as I stuck around them, and at times I tried to believe it all.

But she was gone. I wanted her to be there sometimes though at night when it all hit me and I started to weep and fall apart. I desperately wanted my old friend back – there was nobody I wanted more. I didn't want this version of her around me – even when I thought I did. I would have given anything in the world to talk to the Sarah from before – it was like that person had died. The Sarah who had not sold me short to Zack. I needed her. I'd never felt so alone in my entire life and I felt like everyone around me was mad because they were confused or they were some kind of potential threat to me personally, or both. That Sarah would have listened to me – might even had grabbed the new Sarah by the scruff and put her in her place. The one who used to stay in Shari's till three in the morning with me talking about our independence and our future and our reason for doing anything. That Sarah was not afraid of me and would not have betrayed me. I was waiting for that girl to come back/ She would have been disgusted by this Sarah. And yet, she was she. I just couldn't wrap my mind around that.

My still choosing to be around Sarah and Zack was something that everyone in my life was confused by. It seemed unnatural and self deprecating on my end. Some of it was because I was in denial. I just couldn't really grasp this stuff. I was curious to see what Sarah and Zack did to each other. I wanted to be the fly in the room. And on occasion, I wanted to attempt to find my place in this mess and to still be their friend – even when that friendship was not being reciprocated. Plus, I didn't know what else to do. I was still unemployed, still living with my mother.

The second reason was there was actually a growing concern I was beginning to have for Sarah. Was she really okay? I began to not trust Zack with her. I didn't know Sarah was this dumb, so what was she doing? And even though I knew Sarah had second hand experience to this sort of insanity, she wasn't really accustomed to someone like Zack. Zack didn't abide by any kind of structure. He was too simplistic at times to be functional and too destructive and short term to care about anything lasting. Her need to be needed would be fruitless. He would rip apart any sort of structure she tried to impose for their relationship – he would do it thoughtlessly and he was much stronger than her. He would eventually break her. It would be nothing short of a miracle if this didn't happen.

I stood somewhere in the middle of both of their mannerisms, structure vs. disorder, and I could already see trouble between them – not in some cutesy fight kind of way of something like Zack wearing shoes in the house of something, but some fundamental existential crisis was on Sarah's horizon. Zack would rip her brain to pieces if she tried to give him structure. It was hard for me to take myself out of the picture most of the time, but when I did manage it, I would worry about karma coming to Sarah. She was fragile and she had severed her ties with me and her own selfhood. She would never be the same again or have the same kind of self assurance. Her talent was having a good vantage point, but in this case she had none. If karma was real, Sarah had made herself a target. Sometimes I would sense that there was going to be a reckoning for her betrayal. Sarah wasn't the kind of person who could get away with anything. Her family has a sort of curse to it. About thirty percent of the members of her extended family stretching three generations or more either develop schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder. The rest of them had/have bad luck.

Haynes's are excellent at fixing doors and building stuff because they can always expect the worst. If a window can break, it will – so they build around the idea that it will break – and this measures up to everything in their life, right down to their core personalities. It eventually extended to thinking around things that were unpleasant or uncertain. The structure was in place so nothing broke, and therefore they Haynes rely solely on their ability to maintain a stable life structure. Their cars always have to be in top condition, they look for sturdy structural integrity in everything around them. So there a collective understanding has been instilled in the family to never let anything break and if this means not questioning certain aspects about themselves then that is how it works.

Sarah was true in her nature in this regard. At an early age I grew up accepting brokenness and teaching myself new ways of observing the brokenness so I didn't identify it as broken at all. When you grow up in a messy house you stop seeing it as messy and as an adult you might retain that arbitrary way of looking at dysfunction. Sure, you know the difference between a messy and clean home and you might like a clean one (I personally am bothered by a messy kitchen), but an unmade bed close up is like the Himalayas. It's not hurting you. In fact, it is it's own unique landscape. The mess builds into world and ideas – as long as you can dis attach yourself from the concept that it is bad.

I didn't always like Sarah's structured thinking it because it meant in some unsaid way that there was an element of never letting go or opening up, but I generally went along with her mannerisms and I learned to appreciate the benefits of it Sarah and her mother could walk around each other and skirt around personal subjects for years at a time. It bothered me, but they weren't my family and seemed fine with one another. There developed a sort of self-certainty that went unchallenged. And it bothered me too because life doesn't work that way – or at least the world I knew. The world is a pigsty. Nothing is organized. Germs win no matter how much you wash your hands. This isn't to say you should never sweep or wash your hands, but to bank on everything being neat and in order – the amount of psychological comfort that was gained or lost due to an imperfect world will create an inability to function when just about anything happens to you that wasn't supposed to, or when you mysteriously betray yourself and do something you didn't even know you would do because it was too unsettling to face that uncertainty in your own nature. It makes you brittle and vulnerable. I never saw the chaos of my upbringing as having any sort of benefit to it up to that point, but given Zack's arrival, I saw how Sarah fell into it. I saw her betraying herself and feeling confused and gross about herself and not knowing herself well enough to find clarity. Denial was the only thing that kept her from seeming unstable, and even that wasn't enough.

In the end though, I guess I never really could fault Sarah for being so structured. It was Sarah's caretaking nature, and her structure that literally helped me leave my house that I had intended to die in at an early age. If Sarah hadn't come into my life and worked tirelessly and selflessly to get me out of the house, to believe in myself again, to actually enjoy life again, teaching me to walk on my own two feet – to organize my work papers and get my social security card and talk me through step by step each seemingly hopeless situation of getting out into the world and making things happen for myself, I might never have gotten to where I was. Even though I was also losing my mind, I realized too that I felt all the most compelled to not go back in time. I wasn't going to give up on myself. I was going to keep losing weight, and growing as a person. I wasn't going to move back to my fathers or shut my thoughts off. I was going to experience this pain I was feeling.

As much as I wanted to fall apart after all this happened, I had to appreciate the fact that Sarah had gotten me to a point where I could manage, just barely – but at least get by on being somewhat independent. She had failed me in the end, but I was still where I needed to be because of her. I know that a lot of the stuff that happened came from myself too – like the weight loss, but I have to concede that I really could not have done it alone. Sarah's betrayal of me hurt because she had in a sense become like a surrogate parent – my only real friend, someone I held so close to my heart that I could be myself around – and we had up to this point almost seen one another as extensions of the other. It was why it sort of broke me when she betrayed me and it was why I still cared about her after it happened. There were no simple answers. I still had to believe somewhere Sarah was still a kind person - even if our friendship was broken, I had to love her unconditionally. Even when she had wronged me and I had moments when I wanted to snap her in half because she was being egotistical and underhanded and phony. And I was worried about what Zack would do to her. I wanted to look out for her, even if it meant taking that back seat role as the family pet for a time.

This brings me to the second reason I didn't give up and walk away – perhaps as a normal person might recommend. This mixed bag of feelings and realizations all coming upon me at once – all the contradictory feelings and human fallacies at play. Life was unrolling like theater. It opened doors in me that I barely understood myself – and I was learning so much about myself in the process. I felt crazy, but I also felt in the wake of feeling betrayed, jealous and worthless some kind of new beginning in me that was very clear. It involved being bold and following my heart, but also listening to my intuition and seeing warning signs, and being self aware of both the good and bad within myself. It's very rare in life where we can actually witness the wrong that is happening to you, or experience it in a prolonged setting. Most people avoid pain – particularly the pain of losing their best friend to the guy they thought they were in love with, and it's understandable. Many people would have found high moral ground to condemn the situation and close their eyes.

I wanted to have something to have, some insight into myself and into everyone around me that would inspire wisdom and growth. I felt I deserved out of this situation, at least that much – insight. I didn't want to leave without that insight. I lost a dear friend, a piece of my childhood, a romantic obsession. I was free to be anyone and pursue anything now and I had a clean slate to do just that. I was beholden onto no one, but when I looked back, most of all, I didn't want to feel bitter about what had happened, and that was at times very internally challenging for me. I wanted to know this situation I was in, and my place in it so much that it couldn't hurt anymore. I had to get my hands dirty in that process perhaps – and definitely trade a large quantity of my self esteem, and I had to put myself in situations of indignity in order to fully grasp what it was I was feeling for instance when I saw Sarah together. If I had to take something away from all of this, then I wanted to fully study and experience every aspect. Sarah and Zack probably didn't deserve to have me as a friend at this point, but they were too full of themselves and stupid off their own actions to really appreciate this one way or the other. If I left it wouldn't have made a difference to them their heads were so far up their asses.

And for some reason too, the idea of never talking to Sarah and Zack again felt like a personal defeat. It might have been a win if I had money. I could run away and start anew. But I didn't have that option. If I pushed Sarah away, I would have been stuck in the same place I always had been and that would have been even worse for me. Running would have made this entire thing seem like something I should have been ashamed of and I already promised myself to not live that way. Going for higher ground would have caused me to shut off what more I could now know about myself. I didn't want to reinterpret what was happening everyday before my very eyes in a way that made me feel better. I wanted to take in the contradictions of my own feelings and circumstances and I let the uncertainty settle in and feel the chaos and horror of it all.

And honestly, I was curious about the pain I was feeling when I saw them together.

It was intriguing to feel both repulsed, rejected, betrayed, relieved and jovial all at the same time. I tried to imagine how the both of them were feeling. It grossed me out because by bringing me with them wherever they went I almost felt like they both wanted me to be a part of their relationship in some fashion. It was like I was in some kind of relationship with their relationship. And too, I wanted to study what it actually meant to love something – if you should feel ownership over that thing or if you should merely accept that thing for what it is. I wanted to study their love so I could find something better. It did hurt. It created a curious twisting feeling in my chest at times. I wasn't going to look away however. It was funny, it was painful and it was intense and pathetic. It put the last seven years of my life in some immensely disturbing perspective. And I wanted to watch myself watching it all happen. In the end i guess, i am a sucker for pain and tragedy. I wanted to have the front row seat for my own heartbreak.

PART 91 - https://tinyurl.com/yar8e8rp

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-80 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-90

#text #long text #writin #life story

16 notes · View notes