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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

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Earth is a Death World, “Ice Climbing.”

ope you guys like another themed story :)

Wind whipped at the outside of his containment unit. It came in great frosty gusts and billows which made it difficult to see four people trudging through the snow in front of them.

As the wind continued to pick up, great swathes of snow were blown off the ridge in massive undulating sheets. The little specks of ice clattered against the glass of the container even as he watched.

The five humans struggled through the snow, which reached almost up to mid thigh in certain places, though their thick layers certainly didn’t help their movement all that much either. They were slow and shambling , like great beasts milling about through the arctic expanse.

It was sometimes hard to remember that they were even on a habitable planet, and that the humans din’’t require space suits because all around him he saw only an alien landscape covered in ice and bathed in the disseminated gray light of a blizzard.

Out of the snow he could now see a straight cliff-face rising up into the white. He might not have seen it if he wasn’t looking, though the occasional jutting rock was more than helpful, black against the white of the snow.

The humans hurried forward the snow growing shallower the closer they got to the cliff face.

Eventually they reached their destination, ducking into a small crevice in the rock where the wind wasn’t so bad.

Krill was set to the side against one of the walls trying not to look up at the towering cliff face as the humans adjusted themselves.

Five faces peered out from fuzzy winder coats, the hoods lined in animal fur clung to by flakes of ice and snow. Their faces were covered as well, their eyes only visible behind clear orange goggles, and their faces swathed by fabric to cover the exposed nose and mouth.

To his side, Adam Pulled up his goggles and down on his face protection. His light skin was red with the cold, but he didn’t seem to notice or care, “You picked a great day to come up here sis.”

Across the circle, one of the figures pulled off their goggles and ask as well.

Maya Vir, Adam’s older sister looked out from the depths of her hood, “If I had known ou were going to be this much of a chicken, maybe I would have picked another day.”

Adam’s brothers hooted from behind their mass and goggles.

Adam rolled his eyes, “hilarious guys, just hilarious.” Maya grinned, “Anyway, I know a place. Husband and I mapped it out a few weeks ago, and it's a very good climb up, relatively easy, no jumps or anything like that.”

Krill looked out at them baleful from inside his test tube, “I thought we were done.”

The humans turned to look at him, though the expressions on their faces were mostly concealed he received wicked grins from the other two.

“What makes you say that?” Adam wondered, as the group began adjusting themselves, “We did say we were going Ice climbing.”

Krill nodded and crossed his arms, “yes, and there was plenty of ice and plenty of climbing.”

It was only when the humans began uncoiling rope did Krill know something bad was about to happen.

Even worse when he saw the humans….. Strapping knives to their feet?

What was this nonsense.

Up ahead of them, Maya pulled two pick axes? Or miniature hooked versions of the from her gear.

Krill stared.

“What are you doing with those.” he wondered, watching as everyone else began pulling the same equipment from their bags.

Adam pulled his face protection back over his nose and mouth, “Well how else are we supposed to get up the cliff.”

Krill stared at him, “I’m sorry, you, What!.”

Adam dropped his axes to the side for a moment, pulling Krill back onto his back, “That’s what Ice climbing means, Krill. We are going to use the ice to make it to the top of the cliff. In the summer there is a little waterfall here, but in the winter it gives us some great ice climbing.”

“Define ice climbing for me again, because this surely can’t be as stupid as I think it is.”

“You’ll see in a minute.”

Krill glowered out from his container, “Which one of your insane family members picked THIS pass time, why couldn’t you guys play cards, or have a picnic. I like those things.”

Adam snorted as they trudged their way over to the bottom of the cliff face.

Krill looked up at the great snow covered ice expanse, though evidence of the blue tinted ice was underneath coming down like a rock formation might form in a cave over a million years.

“You only like playing cards because you can count them, and picnics because you're a plan, and besides it’s my sister’s birthday tomorrow, and for her birthday she wanted to take us ice climbing.”

“Why is no one in your family normal?”

“What about dad, you get along with him just fine.”

Krill huffed, “I did, and then I learned he rides giant four legged beasts for work.”

The human rolled his eyes again.

Maya turned, “Alright, split up into one group of two and one group of three.

“Jeremy will be the lead on one, and I will be the lead on the other, “Adam, you can come with me.”

Krill very much didn’t like where this was going, watching as the humans tied themselves together with rope.

“There are guide points placed on the stone and the ice, so the lead will attach the rope as we go up.” She was saying, and krill watched as she drove back her arm and slammed the head of the axe into the ice. He could hear it crunch and shatter under the head of the axe and then lodge there as she kicked into the ice with the blade on her foot. Eventually she was suspended by nothing but the blades .

Adam looked up, watching and waiting as she slowly made her way, ten feet up the ice face where she found one of the hidden markers and connected dtheir rope. Adam let her get up at least twenty feet before following behind hooking himself to her rope and following up after.

The other three were doing the same some meters away.

The higher they went, the worse the wind grew, until snow ad ice was buffeting them lightly from one side to the other.

Krill was right next to full panic as they dragged themselves further and further from the comfort of the ground below. Water droplets trickled and froze on the face of the cliff as they clambered upward, the sound of the axes just barely audible over the howling wind.

At one point he made the mistake of looking down but saw nothing but a white wall of snow as it blew past. The ground no longer visible.

He covered his eyes hating every moment that they were hauled into the air.

Why why why could he not be with a normal human, one that liked to sit in front fo the TV and eat chips.

Why couldn’t he be with someone sedentary, and the only thing he had to worry about was them dying from blood clots.

The human drove his hand back, ramming the blade into the open ice face. Small chips of blue cascaded down onto his arm and then fell into the white expanse.

Krill couldn't watch.

But the humans continued to pull themselves up using incredible and unbelievable strength to haul their own mass up the face of the ice wall, using blades and axes to get there, for no other reason than the fact that they could do it.

Why why why were humans so stupid

Why couldn’t they just be content to sit back and survive like every other species.

And why, even when they insisted on having hobbies did it have to be something that involved, extreme weather, heights, and --arguably-- deadly weapons.

His angry contemplation didn’t last long as a distant voice cut through the blizzard, “ADAM LOOK OUT!”

Krill’s head snapped up, as did Adam, just in time to see the blue chunk of ice pelting down right towards him.

He didn't have time to move and Krill felt the violent jolt as Adam was knocked hard in the right arm.

The ice fractured one piece slamming again’st Krill’s tube.

Adam’s grip was broken on his axe twisting him to the left. The loop of paracord around his wrist, connecting to his axe caused the pick to be yanked from the ice face and flung around as adam flailed nearly hitting him in the back of the right leg.

As his body contorted, the ice around the picks on his feet shattered and gave way and his legs were flung out to the side as well.

Krill squealed, watching as the world careened past them.

He expected to fall but was surprised when they didn’t.

Adam grunted with exertion, and Krill looked up to find the humans still gripping hold with one singular ice pick. He looked down again into the white void, feeling as the human gained enough power to swing himself back to face front driving one of his feet into the ice for more leverage, and then the other foot.

From there he managed to swing the second pick up into his hand climbing back upwards to follow his family members who were frozen not twenty feet up the face looking down and waiting for him.

They seemed relieved when he appeared and climbed the last ten feet to safety.

Krill and Adam were hauled up onto the ledge, where, pressed back against the rock, the wind had died down again.

“Adam are you ok!” Maya said looking him over for injury, “I’m so sorry, I saw it dislodge above me, but I couldn’t stop it.”

He waved a hand, “It's ok, just a little bruised is all.” He flexed his hand

Krill had had enough.

“OK! Ok! We nearly died. Why do you humans insist on going out in adverse death world weather where the visibility is almost zero,just to climb up an unstable ice structure using fancy knives and some rope thinking that will be enough. Why, why, why do you always have to do stupid things that involve almost falling to your deaths.”

His rnt continued on for a few minutes

So its not like anyone had time to tell him that, even if they had fallen, the rope woudl have caught them

Just let him think what he needed to think

#earth is a deathworld #earth is space australia #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities

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bastillewolf · 5 years ago

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The Grand Tranquility Hotel (VI)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: I have the week off of work! Expect some updates in the next few days!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter VI - The World’s First Ever Monster Truck Front Flip

She’d managed to rid all the tension from her shoulders after a steaming hot shower with a lovely lavender-scented shampoo and was now strewn out across her bed with the book she’d been reading from the library. She didn’t have much planned for the day, simply wanting to refrain from causing any more distress between the others and herself. But when someone came knocking at her door, she didn’t feel like she had a choice but to open it. She was met with the eyes of intrigue himself.

“Will you accompany me for the day?” Alex merely asked. “Where will we be going?” she questioned in turn.

“You wanted to know all about my hotel. So, I’ll show you what I can, writer. Meet me in the service room behind the lobby when you’re dressed.” Looking down at her figure clad only in a soft white robe, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. She saw the corner of his lips quirk up, before he sauntered back down the hallway towards the elevator. Cheeky bastard.

Having decided on wearing a long skirt with a pristine white blouse to maintain some form of professionality, she grabbed her notebook and pen and made her way towards their one-sided agreed upon meeting point. When Nick was greeted by her ‘good morning’ and with the sight of Alex holding the door to the back room open for her, he gave them a look of complete bewilderment, which Alex simply deemed to ignore. She shrugged and held her notebook a bit closer to her chest before stepping through the doorway.

The room wasn’t very large. In fact, most of the space was occupied by a large desk, filing cabinets and most prominently; television screens. They showed different camera angles to hallways and other communal areas, such as the library and dining hall. It was clearly live, because she could see Matt taking Mardy out for a walk in the gardens and Nick behind the counter, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of the door they’d gone through. Alex took a seat at the table that held all the electronics and cables and motioned for her to do the same.

Hesitantly lowering herself on the chair next to him, he seemed to be waiting patiently until she’d opened her notebook on a blank page and her pen had revealed its ink when she scribbled down the date on the top right corner. She looked up at him and saw a look in his eyes she could only describe to be the hesitancy of a man who was desperately trying to place his trust in a stranger for the first time in years. She felt it was her turn to take the initiative. “When did the hotel first open its doors?” she decided to start with.

The simple question seemed to bring him back to focus, as he cleared his throat. “About twelve years ago, I’d say it was.” “That’s quit a while. I’m guessing you were rather young to be opening a hotel,” she noted, silently scribbling her pen across the paper in the meantime. She didn’t dare look away from him. He nodded and grumbled a chuckle. “Young, and very inexperienced. Even though I’d had everything planned out from the start, it turned out to be a lot different in practice than what I’d expected it in my head to be.”

“In what way?” He thought about it for a moment. “I guess I had to learn that I couldn’t do everything beforehand and that I had to make more direct decisions on the spot. Although, I was very lucky to have Miles and Matthew at my sides. They were with me every step of the way.”

She smiled softly. “Matt told me about your school years with him and Miles.” “He did? Yeah, we go way back. Bit ridiculous to think I made him promise to come work for me if I ever opened a hotel. Poor lad never stood a chance choosing a different career path. Miles, however, he’d always expected to become my business partner.”

“So, it hadn’t really been Miles’ initial ambition to become mayor?” Alex shook his head, “No. He’d always had a knack for politics and as you well know he’s socially very capable. But if it hadn’t been for his position today, I think this hotel would’ve remained a pipe dream.”

She hummed, letting her eyes wander over the wide array of television screens. “This is your office?” she wondered. “Of sorts,” he replied, “Though Nick often finishes his paperwork in here. It’s where everything is filed.”

“Doesn’t the noise ever bother you?” The slight static hum appeared to be constant and she felt like it derived the room of its peace. “It would most certainly drive me insane.”

“Ah, the exotic sound of data storage. Nothing like it, first thing in the morning,” he quipped with satire. “No, I think I’ve gotten used to it over the years. I don’t really hear it anymore.”

“Have you always had cameras around the hotel?”

“No. We didn’t think it was necessary for a long time, but certain events proved otherwise.”

“Events you’d rather not talk about right now.”

“You’re really getting the hang of this, writer.”

He took her to see the library next, and their walk was silent until they were once again behind closed doors. “I didn’t mean to be secretive, but I did borrow a book from here,” she admitted, shuffling to one of the plush seats near the fireplace. “I know,” he replied, making her look at him in surprise. “I’ve read every single one of these books. They’re all classics, because I’d never let a bad piece of literature enter this room without my permission. You just happened to take one of my favourites, which I can only commend you for.”

She knew the plot of the book from memory and couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk spread across her face. “You like cheesy romance novels?” she teased. “Laugh at me all you want, writer,” he replied, “But it was you who specifically chose that book to borrow out of all of the ones in here, which means I’m not the only one guilty of fancying a good love story.” “Alright,” she admitted, “What other genres do you prefer when you’re not swooning over Mister Darcy?”

He snickered at her banter. “I take interest in science fiction.” “Intriguing. I suppose great minds do have a wild imagination.” “Was that a compliment I heard?” he inquired. “Don’t get cheeky now, mister Turner. We’re both still testing boundaries here.”

He told her all about the becoming of his grand book collection; of how he’d initiated his fondness of reading through his mother’s literature shelves until he’d gone through them all and started sticking his nose in bookshops and libraries. “When the hotel gained more popularity, some regular guests seemed to pick up on my hobby and I’ve only ever received books as thankful parting gifts from that point on. I’m rather relieved, because I was getting sick of flowers and champagne bottles from people with horrid taste.”

“You really do sound like a ritzy hotel owner now.” “I’d rather be ritzy than be in the rubble.” She raised her brows at him with a silent inquiry at his remark. “Don’t say it,” he muttered.

It was when they winded down a staircase she hadn’t seen before did she unravel her notebook again. During the beginning of their conversation she’d only written down the facts and dates, until she’d decided her memory would suffice for the rest of their conversation. Up until he’d taken her to the lower level of the hotel, which managed to fascinate her to a great extent. “What is this place?”

She knew what it was on first glance but wanted him to elaborate on it. “It used to be a bathhouse,” he told her, “but the previous owners were never able to maintain it. It’s a long-term project of mine to restore it.”

It looked very worn indeed, but the vines that protruded the walls and the moss overgrowing the smooth pillars reminded her distinctly of the Romantic art in the paintings she’d seen across the halls of the hotel. There was a large pool in the middle, and though the green substance that most likely used to be clear water obtained a lot of algae’s, it was alleviated by the gorgeous flowers floating atop their lily pads.

The grimy pastel-coloured tiles in blues and pinks were illuminated by the soft light appearing through the ceiling window in the back of the room, which had a few cracks here and there. She walked around one of the separating walls and found an array of bathtubs lined up to the side, decorated with rusty showerheads and crooked room dividers.

“It’s gorgeous. I’m glad you haven’t decided to tear it all down,” she breathed in awe. He hummed, “I have thought about it. But I’m legally not allowed to since it’s been deemed a piece of ‘cultural heritage’ by the mayor himself.” She snickered, “So, Miles didn’t want it to be torn down.” “Let’s just say it was a mutual understanding.”

She gave him a look and took a step around the next corner, but then no longer felt the ground beneath her foot. She could start to feel gravity pull her down until a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her back, causing her ankle to scrape against what she now recognized to be a large crater she was meant to have fallen in. Alex pulled her flush against his chest and she let out a deep breath of relief, her heart a pounding mess against her ribcage. “I understand your curiosity is getting the better of you now that I’m answering most of your questions, but it wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit more careful.” His breath tickled her ear and his husky voice was like a musical echo throughout the room. “Thank you, mister Turner. I think I’ll be alright now.”

He slowly let her arm slide out of his hand. “Were you hurt?” “Just scraped my ankle. I’ll be fine.” He shook his head. “Let’s get it sorted. Can’t have you limping around my hotel. It would ruin my reputation.” “To who? All of the other guests?” “I will push you back into that pit if I have to, writer.”

She was still able to walk well enough, but they decided against taking the stairs this time and took the service elevator instead, which lead them straight to the kitchens. He’d rummaged through a few cupboards before finding the first aid kit. She sat upon the counter and lifted her skirt a tad to inspect the damage.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut it off, miss.” She smacked his arm and he let out a bark of laughter. It was deep and vibrant, and it gave her more joy to hear it for the first time than she’d expected.

Yet, as he cleaned the wound and wrapped her ankle with a soft bandage, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of grief towards the evident wall he hid his emotions behind. It added to the long train of thoughts she was already dealing with right now, and she couldn’t say she was particularly pleased with it.

A silence washed over them as he finished his work and it gave her the opportunity to really look at him. Not just his appearance, but taking in everything he was.

“What will you do if you can’t save this hotel?”

He took long enough to form an answer that she’d almost thought he’d gotten upset with her again. Instead, he replied in a quiet voice that deeply saddened her to the core.

“I really don’t know.”

#Arctic Monkeys #Alex Turner #Alex Turner x Reader #Nick O'Malley #Jamie Cook #Matt Helders #Miles Kane #TLSP #The Last Shadow Puppets #TBHC #Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino #Wpsiatwin #Humbug #AM #Suck It And See #505 #Fanfiction #Romance #Reader Insert

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shannygoatgruff · 5 years ago

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My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter V

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Characters: Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA 18+

Overall Warning: Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.

Chapter Warning: Angst, talk of violence, drug use

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other. Boys will be boys…

Chapter V

I can't figure out why I'm so edgy today. For all intents and purposes, I should be pretty fucking happy. I had a great time last night. I slept well, took a good shit this morning, and had a delicious breakfast with Ivar. Instead of pancakes, today, he made French toast. I was thoroughly impressed.

I even worked on a few things in the basement while I waited for Thora’s morning classes to be done. I meant it last night when I told her I wanted to spend the day with her today. I just wish that I was in a better mood now. ‘Cause right now, everything is annoying the fuck out of me.

Sometimes, I can’t stand how childish Thora is. I mean, she’s a grown-ass woman, so why does her room look like a five-year-old’s? Everything in here is a hideous shade of pink. Stupid fucking unicorns, teddy bears, and little porcelain things decorate her shelves and her bed is always perfectly made up with a fluffy pink and white comforter. It’s just all so…innocent.

I shouldn’t be all that surprised – her room reminds me of her. Sweet…girly…fucking perfect, just like her. It’s fucking sickening. Sometimes everything I love about her, the fact that she’s so different from the people I like to party with is the one thing about her that drives me fucking insane.

I need to get out of this room and get some air before I break every fucking thing in here.

I walk out of her dorm and outside into the chilly afternoon. The autumn breeze is cool on my face and helps me focus on something other than my uneasiness. It’s so crisp out here, today. Believe it or not, this is my favorite time of year to party. I don’t know what it is about the fall, but people seem to be out more than they are in the spring or the summer. Maybe it’s the wonderful colors of the season or the smell of the decaying leaves? Whatever it is, people seem to come out in droves and I’m fucking here for it. There are so many more adventurous people that are willing to party this time of year, it gets my blood racing.

Jesus, am I still thinking about partying? Normally, the day after Ivar and I go out, I just concentrate on being with my girl. Being with her helps me put my life back in perspective. She’s my reminder of what my other life is going to be like when I get this hunger under control. She helps dull the cravings for a few more days before the gnawing starts again and I need to feed it. I know I’ve been wanting to party more often than I usually do, but it’s never been the next day. Being around her is supposed to help me forget about it.

But, right now it’s not working.

I need to get myself together because when I’m with Thora, she depends on me to take care of her. I do for her what Ivar does for me. Besides giving me something else to concentrate on other than finding the next one, when I’m with her, I just want to comfort her. Especially, since she cries a lot. She's like a little girl that's not in control of her emotions. Whether she's happy, sad, or scared, the tears are the same. I know it sounds weird, but I like when she cries. I think it’s because I can usually make it all better. At least, I'm so busy trying, that partying doesn't cross my mind…not a lot anyway.

Today, though, I can’t comfort a damn soul. Not with my heart about to jump out of my chest. This fucking anxiety is overwhelming. I had fun last night so I shouldn't even want to again this soon.

I should be able to ignore this. It's not like I can't function without it. It's more irritating than anything, like a constant nagging. I like I can hear it calling me from far away, but it's getting louder by the minute. I bet it was because I had to rush last night. I was so busy trying to finish before that guy died and shitted on me that I finished too quickly. That’s got to be the reason. That is exactly why I hate rushing.

If we go out tonight I'm gonna do it slowly; take my time and do it right. I'm going to do everything I want and I won't give myself a time limit. That's the only way to make my palms stop sweating and get my heart to stop beating like I’m running a goddamn marathon. Yeah, going slow will make it better. It has to because I hate this feeling.

I reach my forefinger and thumb into the small change pocket of my jeans and retrieve the two pills there. Without hesitation, I pop the two Klonopin in my mouth before taking a healthy sip from my water bottle. I wish I had something stronger. That reminds me that Ivar and I need to visit that guy he knows across town to reup on party favors. What kind of hosts would we be if we didn’t keep libations to put our guests in the mood? We’ve really been slacking, lately. I know for at least the past week, I haven’t been all that impressed with our selection. I’ve just been reaching in the bottom of the bowl and using whatever I pick up. I haven’t been properly stoned in at least 5 days. This shit is amateur hour. But, it’s better than nothing to take the edge off.

My hand shakes as I bring that guy’s lighter to the end of my cigarette, but it stops as soon as the taste of menthol enters my mouth. My lungs open up, clouding with thick smoke and a sudden calm washes over me. My eyes close on their own as the head rush takes over. It's not as good as I’ll feel when these pills kick in, but it'll do for right now.

Thora’s arms come around my waist and I roll my head over to look at her. She looks like she's worried about me. I have been a little quiet today, and there's no good explanation I can give her. She just thinks I'm not feeling well.

I'm not.

"You okay?" Her lips poke out in a pout as she rests her chin on my arm. She can't see the bruise on my shoulder under my long sleeve shirt, but it hurts. I think it happened carrying the blonde from the front seat to the warehouse. It was hard to maneuver him from the way he was sitting in the car to draping him over my shoulder. I must have bumped up against the car door or something because now I have a huge bruise.

Trying not to flinch, my arm comes around her shoulder and I pull her closer to me. "Fine." For the most part that's true. I do feel better holding her, I just don’t know long this reprieve will last.

"Let's go for a walk." She grabs my hand and I follow behind her.

My lips start to turn up into a smirk and Thora turns to me and smiles. I feel a little twinge of guilt because she thinks my look is about her. Honestly, I’m thinking about the fact that her campus is crawling with people that I could party with. If Ivar were here right now, we'd have a fucking field day. There are so many bored people around just looking to have fun. We could have our pick of them and show them the best time. There no telling some of the shit we could get to if we just let our imaginations run wild.

As the leaves crunch under my feet, I watch the way Thora kicks them with each step she takes. She's so graceful and childlike; she's going to make the perfect mother for my children. This hobby is just that, a hobby. I don’t understand how Ivar can doubt my decision. Watching the impish way Thora moves, the concerned way she stares, the careful way she worries about me, I know that when this over it'll work out with us. She's exactly the transition I need from this phase of life to my next one.

She loves me and I think I love her. At least that's what I tell myself all the time. I love that I'm going to marry her and that she's going to raise my children. I love that she's so innocent and that she knows that I won't hurt her. I love the way she needs me. That means I love her, right? It doesn't matter really. I will love the life that I'm supposed to have with her.

Her hand grips mine tighter as we approach the people standing in the middle of the quad. Something is off. They're all huddled around one guy, hanging on his every word, whispering to each other, shrugging, and offering sympathy every now and again. Thora's arms wrap around mine and her head leans on my shoulder like she's feeling their pain. "His boyfriend didn't come home last night," she says quietly to me.

I look from her worried blue eyes to the blue-green eyes of the dark-haired man standing there. His red-rimmed eyes are swollen from crying and yet look sunken in on his pale face. The look of terror in his eyes is reminiscent of the way Thora looks when she talks about Ivar. He's petrified and for some reason, my stomach starts to drop because of it.

The toe of my Doc Marten creates a small hole in the ground as I twist my foot to extinguish the cigarette. I can't stop staring as Thora moves to stand in front of the tall, brunette. She must know him. Looking at her face, I can tell she’s feeling his pain. It's enough to make me want to hurt him so he can stop hurting her.

"Kalf, still no word?"

Fresh tears spring to Kalf’s eyes when he shakes his head. "We fought last night.” He uses his entire hand to wipe the tears running down his face, “A few people said they saw him dancing at Danger, but then he just disappeared.” His voice starts to crack with each word as his fear starts to get the better of him, “We fight all the time, but he always comes home. He hasn't called or anything. Erlendur always calls."

"Maybe he just needs time to get his head together." My voice comes out soft and unsure. I don't even know why I spoke.

When Thora's teary eyes turn in my turn in my direction, my throat starts to close.

Erlendur. This Erlendur is the guy from last night, he has to be. He was the one at Danger. He was the one that talked about his boyfriend with Ivar as we walked to the car.

Shit! His name was Erlendur. He wasn't just the blonde tramp that we met at a club, but a kid; a college student with a boyfriend and friends, including my girl. He had a real-life like he was a real person. Why the fuck did he have to be real? He was just supposed to be a good time, not a person with a life outside of that moment.

By the time I open my eyes and steady myself on my feet, Thora's arms are around me again. I can't stand to be around her right now. Those innocent blue eyes are tearing into me at a level like I've never known before. Thora is hurting and it's because of me. She's worried about her friend because of something I did. I'm supposed to be the one to protect her and I've done just the opposite.

Kalf's concerned eyes for Erlendur are exactly how Thora's eyes cloud over with concern for me. "Hvitserk? Are you alright?"

My head shakes as I try to keep myself from throwing up. "I don't feel so hot. I'm gonna take off." I offer her a smile to keep her calm, but she doesn't seem to be convinced by it. Her forehead is warm on my lips and her body is soft in my arms, but this is all I can give her right now. The guilt is like molten lava creeping up my neck. I know my cheeks are turning red and the pounded in my head lets me know right away that this isn't going to end well. "I'll call you later."

Turning to Kalf, I stuff my hands in my pockets and refuse to meet his eyes. "I hope your friend turns up soon."

I barely manage to get around the building before I bend at the waist and try to catch my breath. I hate to hyperventilate. My hands rest on the top of my thighs as I try to control my breathing. I'm almost gulping in the air but it isn't helping. The only thing it's doing is making my throat burn and my lungs feel like they're going to explode.

"Fucking, Erlendur. Motherfucker." Muffled curses pour from my lips, while I stumble my way to the car door. The wheezing in my chest doesn't stop, but it slows when I focus my attention on the fact that that fucker had a fucking name.

I don't give a fuck about him or what we did to him. It does bother me though that the people he left behind are worried. They have no idea how we partied with him. They don't know that my face was the last one he saw before he stopped breathing altogether. Would Thora cry if she knew that Ivar beat him and skinned parts of his body? Would she be devastated if she knew that his skull was probably cracked when I slammed his head on the table repeatedly? Would it break her heart to know that we set him on fire and stood around to watch his body burn?

I can't hurt Thora. She needs me and I did this to her. I can't handle knowing that.

I don't know how I make it home, but when I look up, I'm already barefoot and climbing the stairs.

I feel sick, shaky... confused. I don't know what to do. The only thing I can do is open Ivar's door and close it quietly behind me. He's taking a nap, but he must have heard me come in because his head rises from his pillow right before he pulls back his covers.

My movements are slow, but I manage to make it to his bed and tuck myself in close to him. "Erlendur. His fucking name was Erlendur." My voice cracks while I try to catch my breath. "He was real, Ivar. He had a name and a life and friends, and…"

"Shhhh, baby. It's alright." His voice is a gentle whisper and his safe arms wrap protectively around me. He lovingly rubs my back while rocking me softly, "I'm here, Serk."

Nodding my head against his chest, I feel the tears slip from my eyes. "Make it better." This is where I need to be. “Hold me tight.” I just need to be in his arms and let him protect me as only he can. "Promise me you won’t let me go."

His warm lips kiss the tears falling from the corner of my eye before he presses them to my forehead, “Never,” I feel him whisper against my skin.

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nwagensellerswords · 4 years ago

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A Trip To The Doctor’s

I knocked three times at the door. Displayed on the glass panel is Dr. Schloss, Psychologist. A call comes to let myself in, and I do so.

“Hello, Fred. How are you today?”

“I’m unwell, doctor. That is not to say that I am doing poorly...but rather, I suppose, I am the opposite of comfortable.”

“Why is that? Is something bothering you at this time?”

“Not especially. It’s bizarre, doc...I cannot really fathom the general malaise in how I am feeling. It is a bit like an outsider looking into someone else’s life, analyzing the goings-on, and then said outsider is judging the life of the subject. However, I am both people in this respect.”

“Hmm...sounds dissociative in nature...please carry on.”

“Well, I was just laying around, without any chore to do, no urge to do one of my hobbies, nor any desire to look onto my phone or tablet to check social media or some other thing...I just felt like laying there. Staring at my hands, and strangely appreciating them…”

“That is a bit unusual. What thoughts came to you as you were...staring at your hands?”

“So, my thought was simply ‘Wow...to think that this ability of tactile hands and opposable thumbs, along with walking upright on two legs, as well as the ability to conjure abstract thought and communication of such amongst ourselves, are the fundamental aspects of defining what makes an individual human.”

“That seems a little bare in aspects to describe the human species, wouldn’t you agree, Fred?”

“I don’t disagree with you, doctor. However, I just can’t shake the dire happenstance of my intellectual wanderings. With not only climate collapse and the largest die-off of species in millions of years, corruption at the top levels of our societies, the sheer idiocy of distractions, taking the gaze of most people away from the important goals of how to improve society over arguing over things like Dr. Seuss or some other nonsense...I am just tired of the human experience.”

“That is rather distressing to hear from you, Fred. Usually, you seem rather energetic and hopeful. From your friends, whom I often meet on the street, they say you are a fount of positivity. Let me ask you then: what is the most fulfilling thing in your life right now? That which you look most forward to doing.”

“Hmm...In all honesty, my favorite activity is sleep. That isn’t to say that I enjoy the activity of sleep in and of itself, however. I actually hate napping and I have trouble sleeping as is. No, the joy of it comes from a deep, dark rest from the mundanity and insanity of reality. A sleep without dreams, quiet and peaceful, without thought or image bombarding my whole being with dread.”

“That is a morose description of rest from sleep. Why exactly do you feel so?”

“Doctor, have you ever heard the phrase “ignorance is bliss”? It certainly is something that, even if it is a well-worn expression, rings true for myself. I love learning, the research, the enlightening feeling of a new discovery, even if it is only yourself experiencing it for the first time. I have learned things that, in retrospect, have led to general dissatisfaction in not only my life, but on the whole concept of the human experience and its existence…”

“By god, Fred...How did you come to this?”

“Well, honestly I cannot find myself enjoying the same things I have beforehand with gusto. The dread of knowledge has both expanded my mind and empathetic feeling for a grand assortment of things while also detracting from my mood. The eternal gridlock of existence. I wish for this whole experience to be over.”

“Are you telling me that you feel suicidal?”

“No, I could not simply ‘off’ myself. Of course with my father’s passing from such an event. Though were I to do it, a gun to the temple would be best. Quick and efficient. I have thought on it often in the past, on the value of the world to myself and my value to those outside myself. I hold such a poor opinion of myself, isolated and alone, yet surrounded by kind people. Yet others whom I wish to be in contact with are moving along. I am both stuck and yet freer than some I know. I am just eager for nonexistence.”

“Usually for my patients, such a breakthrough in contemplating their emotions and actions takes months or years, and yet Fred, you were able to be open about such things in such an early stage in our professional relationship. While that is good to see, at the same time your comments worry me. What drives you to say you are ‘eager for nonexistence’?”

“Well, I cannot find the joy or hope I did in the past. It isn’t even my life that causes such, but just by existing in the world we live in, I feel...dark. When I see the youth of today, my thought goes to the horror they and their children will have to endure for the coming days. I feel deep pity for those of lesser societal standing, and a deep-seated anger that those who would claim to help them, yet abuse their positions. I cannot really say how fucked I feel. Just an unease. It is my free time allowing such to come about.

“Is there any way for me to help you in these episodes of...darkness?”

“The fact that I can bare my soul out to you and explain why is really what helps, doctor. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course, Fred. Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me?”

“No, but thank you, Doctor Schloss. Same time in two weeks?

“That is indeed when we are scheduled to meet next. I hope you feel better over the following two weeks, Fred.”

“Thank you, doctor!”

I stand up, turn to the door, and exit.

#short story #my writing #prose #dialouge

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acopenhagenarmy · 6 years ago

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JUST DON’T BABY

Jimin x fem!reader

Warnings: Dominant Jimin, daddy kink, semi public fingering, oral female reciving, excessive sexualtention

Wordcount: 2,3k

A/N: Okay this is my very first smut, and it’s a little filthy but still kind of cute. I got no idea what I’m doing when it comes to smut, so please let me know what you think. This was a recomendation from a friend of mine, so if you’d like to see something specific well then let me know, okay? I hope you like it my babes

The two of you had been together for quiet some time, but that didn’t mean that you had become boring over time. Both of you knew exactly how you could drive the other one insane, which in the last couple of months had become a hobby for the both of you. Award season was always a stressful time for him, but your little games was a good way for Jimin to take his mind off everything. It didn’t really matter where you were, not even gala’s or award shows were off limits for the two of you. After all he had been so excited after him and the boys won their first BBMA, that he had basically fucked you as soon as he stepped of the stage. Besides, at the moment your relationships still weren’t public, which made everything so much more fun for the both of you.

All of the upcoming events meant that the two of you would have the chance to tease each other and have your fun, without anyone finding out. And you had the chance to go completely under the radar at all these events. Usually you didn’t do much than just hanging out in the background drinking a couple of drinks, until he swept you off your feet. But every now and then you decided that you could have a little more fun than usual and started flirting with boys from other groups. It drove him completely insane every time you did, and eventually he would grab you and fuck your brains out in the nearest closet. Reminding you that you belonged to him, and him alone.

This night you felt especially perky, and hot. You had dressed yourself in a tight fitted gown with your entire back on display, your hair pinned up in a beautiful but messy bun which exposed your neck as well. Red lips were a must even though you hoped it would be smudged all the right places in the end of the night. You looked at yourself in the mirror happy with the woman smirking back at you, and excited for the look you knew Jimin would give you when you walked into tonight’s gala.

You strolled in to the party like you belonged there, and even though you were no idol, people knew you were some kind of big deal in the industry. You had after all been to quiet a lot of events like this after the two of you got together. You didn’t really waste your time and went straight to the bar to get yourself a glass of champagne. As you started to sip of your sparkly beverage, your eyes scanned every face in the room to look for him.

As soon as your eyes met, he sends a smirk your way, but instead of returning it you just turned around, revealing your bare back in the process. Across the room Jimin suddenly stood a little taller than just a second ago, and he sank as he saw your skin exposed for the world to see. He didn’t like it one bit. He was so proud by the fact that you were his, but when you looked like this, he knew it was only a matter of time before one of the idols in this room would walk up to you, thinking they had a chance. And he hated it with every bone in his body, that he couldn’t walk over to you, and show the world that the two of you belonged together.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook noticed his wandering eyes and his tongue that kept wetting his lips. His eyes were dark, and right now it could be with either rage or with lust, maybe even a little bit of both. They were quick to grab his attention and distract him from your appearance tonight, but after no more than a few minutes, all Jimin heard was a small: “Oh fuck!” leaving Jungkook’s lips, and when he looked back at the bar there you stood talking to a man who was way too close to Jimin’s liking.

You had just started talking to Joshua from ‘Seventeen’ when you spotted a raging Jimin walking towards the two of you. And as he strolled though the room, you had to stop yourself from biting your bottom lip and run to him. There was something about his walk that just demanded the entire rooms attention, and that was amplified a whole lot when he was mad. It was in general just dirty as fuck. You kept talking to Joshua until Jimin almost stepped between the two of you, demanding his attention.

“Joshua! How are you today?” He smiled towards his fellow idol and did his best to be somehow graceful towards him. Joshua slowly shifted his attention from you towards Jimin.

“Park Jimin, hello! I’m good” After he had greeted Jimin his attention was once again all yours, you gave him a sweet smile, and then looked quickly at Jimin, raising your eyebrow almost daring him to cause a scene. Luckily he was smarter than that, instead he just answered: “That’s good to hear… Can I steal your date? Okay thanks!” And before Joshua had even the slightest chance to answer he’d taken your hand and pulled you as far away from him as he possibly could.

He pulled you away from the crowd down the hall until the two of you were completely alone, and after looking around to make sure the two of you were alone, he pulled you so incredibly close that you swore you could hear his heartbeat. He looked down at you with lustful eyes, while he had your back pinned in the corner off the hallway.

“Baby, baby please just don’t, don’t do this to me….” He spoke with a low voice and it was a plea for mercy.

“I know babe, I’m sorry…” You smirked a little as you said it, but the truth was as much as you love this little game the two of you loved to play, you missed the fact that you would be able to hold his hand and kiss him in public.

“I can’t control myself when I’m around you princess… Gosh I need you right now.” And when he ended that sentence his lips found yours.

He sucked your bottom lip in between his teeth and bit down, while he looked at you with dark eyes. You tried you best to mask your moans, but as usual when it came to him, he had all the power and you failed miserably. You wanted him so bad your entire body was trembling by the thought of his touch and his hands finally on your body.

He smirked at you just before he took his hand and buried it in your hair, ruining the updo you had spent hours on. But you didn’t care, and one second later his lips was finally in contact with the soft skin on your neck. Making your breath heavily and forgetting the entire world around you. His sloppy kisses and sweet purple marks he left on your skin sent you into a state of euphoria. “I’m gonna take care of you know princess, do you want that?” His words were nothing more than a whisper, making his breath leave goosebumps on your entire body. All you were able to answer in this moment was a “fuck yes” right before his lips finally met yours again.

One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other explored your body, pinching your hip through the thin fabric of the dress, cupping your breasts. Your hair was messy, your lipstick was smudged, but all you could think about was the release you would feel in your entire body when he would finally touch you where you needed him to. Everything in your body was screaming for him to bite and lick his way down to your wet center, and the expectations building in your core was almost too much to bear.

“Spread you legs for me baby girl” It didn’t take you more than a second before you had did as he told you. He kneeled down before you and placed his hands on your ankles, while he looked up at you and said, “I wanna taste your pretty pussy when you come on my tongue,” you didn’t trust your voice, so all you did was nod at his statement. Your nod of consent was all he needed and now he started moving his hands from your ankles up under your dress. So slow that it sparked a fire everywhere he touched. As his hands reached your panties, he took one of his fingers to feel you. “baby, you’re already so wet for me” he took the finger and sucked it quickly before his eyes met yours. “You taste amazing, gosh how I’ve missed the taste of you.”

You mind was going crazy, he was so close you could feel his breath on your folds through the fabric of your already drenched panties. He kept locking eyes with you as he once again took a finger and stroked it through your folds, stopping at the little bundle of nerves and pressing gently down on it, making you moan out his name in pleasure. “You like that huh? Be a little slut for daddy. I don’t want you holding back, I want you to be so loud that everyone at this stupid event can hear you scream my name as I make you come. Do you understand?”

“Ye-yes…” In this moment everything was heightened, you were so turned out you could feel yourself dripping, making a pool of arousal between your feet. He looked up at you with eyes full of lust and smirked at you, his persona always shifted as he punished you. And in this moment your sweet and loving Jimin were long gone, all that was left was your daddy.

He pushed the lace that covered your core out of the way and exposed it to the cold air surrounding you. It made you shiver in anticipation, and finally his tongue touched you everywhere you had needed it to the entire day. And as he tasted ever millimeter of your soaking wet pussy, and made you almost scream in pleasure. “I told you baby girl, scream for me. I wanna hear you scream daddy’s name.”

You were completely under his spell, and when he spoke you let everything go and screamed out for him. You could feel him smirk between your legs for doing what he asked of you. He loved it when you did what he told you, and most of the time it resulted in you being rewarded for being a good girl. This time was no different.

He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder to open your up to him, and his hands that until now had rested on your thighs started moving upwards. He plucked his lips and kissed your bud passionately, which incredibly enough made your body relax into him. You knew he wasn’t done but that didn’t mean you wanted him to slow down, you needed to release the feeling that was building inside of you. Which resulted in you being greedy, the one thing you knew he would always punish you fore.

So, when you started to push your core towards him, he ended up jamming three fingers into you, making you scream out his name. It was like everything went dark, and suddenly all you could see was stars. You knew the boys always teased him about him having small hands, but he knew how to use them. And as always, he ended up touching just the right places inside of you.

His lips left your pretty pink pussy as he jammed his fingers in and out of your soaking wet hole. You cleansed your walls around him, drawing him in further. “You want to feel my cock buried inside of you? What’s that baby girl? I can’t hear you, answer your daddy” Everything he did and said right now was on purpose, because he knew you weren’t in your right mind, he knew you wouldn’t be able to answer him when his blown pupils stared you up and down.

“You want daddy to take that pretty pink pussy right here? Where anyone would be able to watch us? You would like that wouldn’t you? Seeing someone get off on all the pretty sounds you make when I touch you?”

“Oh gosh Jimin, yes, yes, yes!”

“Such a little slut you are” As he spoke, he stood up, locking his lips with yours, forcing his tongue inside your mouth so you could taste yourself on his lips. He moaned into you, fingers still pumping in and out of you. You could feel your high getting closer, the knot in your stomach growing, just a little longer and you would finally have your release. And that was when he stopped.

“I don’t ever wanna see you this close to anyone ever again, unless I invite him into our bedroom, do you understand?”

“Yes”

“Good, I want you Y/N, no one else”

“And I want you Jimin”

“I know, but I want the world to know your mine, I don’t wanna have to steal you away just so I get to kiss you. I wanna be able to do that, out there amongst the rest of them, I want to show them that you belong to me and no one else.”

“Okay” you held his head in your hands as you kissed him slowly, a form of reassuring that this was what you too wanted, and had been yearning for, for a long time.

“Good, I’ll talk to the managers on Monday and they’ll figure this out, but for now, let’s go home. I wanna see you come on my dick, and for that I don’t wanna be disturbed.

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jazzy-art-time · 5 years ago

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"all you have”

Her tail twitched in annoyance, flicking back and forth rapidly, not matching her vacant expression in the slightest. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Jody’s voice was cold as ice, just begging for the Priest to repeat the vile he had just spewed. The Liepard’s crooked smile twitches at the edges, managing to make that devilish grin of his flash even more of his teeth. He turns around gracefully without returning her eye contact, gently pawing at his collar with the claw on his thumb. “I called you stupid my doll. Did perhaps the cotton around your hood clog those ears of yours?” Jody’s fist clenches inside her pocket, already ready to snap out and use fire punch right against this guys jaw. Her fingers begin to simmer and get hot just anticipating for him to turn around and face her one more time. It wasn’t so much the insult that got to her, but the nickname he had for her drove her practically insane. Hearing his voice spit out that nickname felt like nails dragging down her spine. She was already planning on killing this guy anyways, but that was originally business, but now it was a bit more personal. But his voice rang out inside her violent thoughts, taking her back a bit “Hitting me wont solve your problem Doll. Killing me wont either, but I bet you’ve already set your mind on that, just like other things”

The Liepard gently strolled over to the cliff’s edge, gracefully sitting down on the edge of the fence to turn and face her. The irritation wasn’t so much showing on her face, god her face was so stagnant wasn’t it? It deserved some sort of award, keeping a face that apathetic surely was a great feat. But unlike her face, her body language said otherwise. He chuckled a bit outloud at the sight of her tail tip flicking away. Her clenched fist grabbing the inside fabric of her jacket could even be seen. Oh she was furious alright, that wasn’t his intentions, but surely was a bonus on his end. He calmly places his hands up under his chin, much like a excited schoolgirl would, kicking his legs back and forth rapidly in a mocking manner. “Oh golly Miss Jolene. Do you REALLY think that once this is all over things will be normal? Oh gosh darn I think she does! Oh look girls she thinks it will get better oh darn what a shame!” the felines voice hissing out in a high pitched mocking tone towards the scrafty in front of him. Jody’s brow furrows and lip curls in slight disgust, she didn’t need to see that. Hearing his voice normally was horrible enough. But despite this, curiosity panged at her as to what he meant.

The lizard steps forward in a more calm manner, her previous anger slightly dimmed out by curiosity and mere confusion. Her brow raises slowly and imitates the liepard’s mocking tone. “Oh is that so? Well what makes you think otherwise?”

The liepard’s grin expands even further somehow, excitement at the fact that she was willing to listen. “Oh isn’t it obvious? You people and your revenge are all alike Jolene. You all think that once the deed is done, you’ll feel better! That is only a few cases although. It certainly isn’t in your case Doll.” The liepard’s tail swishes over his body, causing him to disappear, only to reappear right behind her like a cheshire cat. His paws grasp her shoulders and digs their claws in slightly to get a better grip, leaning in gently and whispering into her ear slowly. “You’ve dedicated your entire life to this haven’t you? It’s your only purpose, your only drive. It’s all you have” he disappears again as Jody attempts to swat him away from her, only to reappear back on the fence, lying on his back in a playful manner.

“You’ve been doing this- dare I say FIGHTING for this your entire life. From birth to now you have been striving, charging and plotting this. But have you had time to think of what else you would possibly do? Any other aspirations aside from this only? Sure small hobbies can satisfy short term, but we are thinking bigger here!” He stands on the fence proudly, throwing his arms in the air in a dramatic fashion. “We are talking about LIFE Jolene! LIFE! Not everyone needs a purpose to live of course, but you do. You don’t know anything else!” Jody squints in anger and stomps over to the fence, looking up at him in irritation. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know anything. Her voice became more curt and poison filled. “That’s not true at all. I can do other things. I already have plans for when I am finished I’ll have yo-” Her words were cut off by the felines tail smacking into her face abruptly, his tongue sticking out slightly with a irritated curled lip. “Yeah yeah. Once you are finished you are gonna ‘go out in a field! Have a drink and a biscuit and enjoy life!’ yes yes truly inspiring. But is that all you plan to do? Will that fill the void that this revenge has taken on you? Can you do that every day for the rest of your life? Face the music Doll, without this curse you are practically nothing. Not that it’s a bad thing to say, some people need that drive. It’s natural to aspire, to DREAM! But you don’t dream at all do you? Never have in fact..” Jody attempts to bite down on the tail slapped against her mouth, but he simply disappears once more within a blink of an eye. The scrafty whips her head around in fury, grinding her teeth and tail swishing back and forth. “So okay, lets say in this... delusion of yours, you are perfectly fine! No more curse, no more having to fight or plot after doing it your entire life. That empty feeling inside magically doesn’t exist for you! You are happily living your life!” Jody turns around rapidly to find the source of his voice. A leaf falls on her nose, she bats it away and snaps her head upwards to find him. Lazily perched on the tree branch, the liepard continues to speak. His eyes wistfully gazing at the clouds suddenly snap to make contact with hers. “Does that really excuse or change all that you have done? You truly are a cruel person aren’t you?”

Jody’s body stiffens at the words and attempts to avoid eye contact with him. Her voice spitting out of her gritted teeth. “I’m not... that bad.. What i’ve done is only beca-” she is once again interrupted, the liepard’s exploding laughter echoes throughout the cliff side. Jody’s eye flicker towards the upwards branches, no longer seeing any sight of the man. Her body hunches over slightly, almost in shame. She wasn’t that bad. She wasn’t... Suddenly she feels her body jerk towards the fence by the cliff, the liepard appearing at her side, dragging her to the edge. He grabs the back of her head and forces her to lean forward. “Let’s create a scenario shall we?” He forces her to face the town not far below. From the cliff side one could easily see down into the towns plaza below. Jody’s eyes focused on her party; Diane, Ulbrecht, Nana, Solo, Oxide and Rexmile are all placed under the plaza’s gazebo. Solo and Rexmile began to chase one another around the table, playing some sort of tag, or Rexmile had a weird bug that he was trying to place on his brother. Diane is happily eating and laughing at the scene with the brothers, Oxide smiling and laughing along with her. Ulbrecht and Nana appear to be attempting to have a conversation among the boys hectic activities, Ulbrecht even attempts to trip Solo at some point but fails. Jody smiles a bit internally at the sight but is cut short when the Liepard continues to speak. “Let’s see. You seem to be having a... active social life as of late correct?” his grin is crooked with raised brows “Not that I am judging... In fact I applaud you for not sticking to the ‘The Cursed must be a Virgin Pure’ bullshit. That gets so annoying after each incarnation. But anyways. Let’s say... That you were to get knocked up by one of those boys that fawn over you.” Jody attempts to jerk away from his grip and growls in a low tone. “I can’t get pregnant from either of them. Solo is shiny so it’s rare and Ulbrecht is fixed-” once again the tail is slapped over her mouth, this time wrapping around her head tightly.��“yeah yeah whatever Doll. This is a scenario, which could happen. Shiny pokemon, although rare, can still get others pregnant. Vasectomies can also reverse over time by accident in some cases. But allow me to finish” His ears flick back and forth in a metronome type fashion, claws slowly digging into the back of Jody’s head. “Lets say that you WERE to bear one of those.... fellows... abomination of a child, while on your quest. You raise this child, its yours. You come to love it and the child adores you. You are it’s mother and it’s all it has. But then one day... your little Book.... suddenly demands your next mission.... is the spirit of your dead child.” Jody’s pupils shrink and her blood chills and almost turns to ice, her attempts to get out of his grip suddenly come to a stop. “What would you do Jolene? Would you kill the kid? Your own flesh and blood, the child who trusts you. ADORES YOU. A kid you have come to LOVE. Would you kill it just for the sake of fueling your revenge further, to get closer to your goal? What would you do?”

The liepards grip on Jody loosens. Hand dropping from the back of her head and tail slowly unwinding from her body. He steps back slowly and gazes at her in silence, awaiting her answer. The scrafty’s body remains stiff, her position slowly relaxes from leaning over the fences edge, but her bones feel almost locked into place. Her gaze fixed down below, no longer looking at anything or anyone anymore, her pupils dart back and forth almost as if they were lost. Her apathetic expression slowly twitching into a hollow face, void of feeling. Claws gripping into the wood fence slowly, her voice barely escapes her own mouth. “That isn’t a fair scenario-” The Liepards voice cuts through her shaky answer instantly. “Answer my question Jolene.” Slowly slinking behind her, he slides his hands up her back and onto her shoulders, leaning in and whispering into her ear again. “Would you kill your own child just to get further towards the end of your quest?” Jody’s body remains motionless as his voice continues to hiss quietly. “Would you slit your own kids throat? Would you let them know beforehand? Would you drown them? Smother them with a pillow? Would you poison your own child? Would you-” Suddenly snapping, her body jerks and successfully gets out of his gentle grip and turns around, slamming her snout against his. “STOP. SAYING. THAT. KIND. OF. STUFF. RYAN.” Ryan’s smile returns and busts out laughing once more, her losing her temper was always a sight to see. Perhaps she would try to kill him right then and there! But her position remained fixed in a defensive stance, face twitching with pure rage. “Oh Jolene, look at you being so explosive and full of energy! As amusing as that is..... you still haven’t answered my question.” A flash of fear flickers through Jody’s eyes, she stands up straight and turns around to face the cliff side once more. Ryan appears on the fence next to her, facing down to gaze at the plaza below. “Your silence is more truthful than you have ever been Jolene.” Jody flinches at his words, she wanted to scream. She wanted to hit him down to the ground, punching his face while screaming how wrong he was. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t let those words leave her mouth. The only thing managing to allow her gaze to unlock from the plaza below was Ryan’s voice slicing through her thoughts once more. “What if you had to kill Diane for the sake of your book Jolene. Would you do it.” She whips her head towards him, expression full of horror and disbelief at what he had just said. Her mouth opens slightly to speak, but nothing escapes, not even air. Ryan’s gaze flickers from the lizard next to him to the mountains beyond the city. His tone less antagonizing now, but colder than ice. “But then again, you’ve already done that to someone you loved. Haven’t you.” Jodys gaze sinks to her own feet, unable to make a single sound. Arms beginning to tremble and back slowly arching over, making her hunch over in shame. “You’ve done it once Jolene. You’ll do it again and again. As much as you need to. That fact, is what makes you a horrible person. The fact that you are willing to kill anyone, anything, JUST to fuel this revenge quest of yours, THAT defines who you are as a person. That is who you are.” Ryan’s words stabbed into Jody, she felt like barbed wire was being pulled under her skin. She wanted him to stop. Stop saying that. “Does a person like that, really DESERVE a happy ending” stop it stop talking “Someone like you is beyond redemption. Doesn’t matter who you meet, how many people you make happy... You’re a horrible person Jolene. Always have been.. Even when you were a child.” stop iT... “Come to think of it, you’ve been like this forever. Even before the book. It simply gave you a excuse.” Jody whips around and grasps the liepards collar, tugging him down and slamming him to the ground. She was going to make him shut up. He was spewing such lies. Shut UP. “I HAVE NOT ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS. THE BOOK DID THIS TO ME. FOR GOD’S SAKE I DON’T EVEN HAVE A SHADOW. I DON’T HAVE BLOOD ANYMORE, MY PULSE IS FAKE. MY EYES ARE LIFELESS AND I FEEL NOTHING. DON’T YOU DARE STAND THERE AND TELL ME THAT I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS. THE BOOK DID THIS TO ME. THAT FUCKING WITCH DID THIS TO ME. I COULD HAVE BEEN NORMAL AND NICE. BUT I HAVE TO DO WHAT I DO. I DO WHAT I NEED TO” her voice cracks and echoes throughout the cliff side, her voice weak and breathing heavy made her chest in pain. Her gritted teeth began to grind in her mouth as she stared down at the man. Please just stay quiet... please. Ryan snaps up suddenly, causing her to trip backwards and fall onto her back. The liepard crawls over the top of her, pinning her body town with his tail, his voice sharp as a knife. “But does that REALLY excuse all that you’ve done. Is that what your doing? Using it as a Get Out Of Jail Free Card huh? You are so idiotic girl! You are so convinced in your own head that you HAVE to do this, that if you don’t it’s wrong! YOU COULD HAVE DONE NOTHING. You could have done nothing and let the curse simply take you and then die! HELL! You could have even just been peaceful! Simply completing the books pages in a pacifist manner and not killing at all! You could have done this peacefully IT IS in fact possible! It’s been done before! BUT NO. YOU CHOSE THIS." Jody couldn’t fight back, she couldn’t move as her body stiffened once more. Helpless under the priest above her. “YOU chose to follow the book 100%! There are ways around it you know! You could have done the bare minimum and although it wouldn’t progress the quest for that witch further, you could have survived! You could have avoided hurting others! You could have avoided killing! HELL DID YOU EVEN READ THAT EXCERPT ON A “MOTHER’S SORROWFUL SPIRIT” OR DID YOU JUST GUILT TRIP HER INTO CHUGGING THE POISON WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT! OH WAIT WE ALL KNOW THE ANSWER DON’T WE JOLENE.” His voice was loud and ear shattering, there was no rage behind his words oddly enough. His crooked smile only grew as he shouted at the woman pinned below him. He knew she wasn’t going to fight back. Pathetic really. “I admire you Jolene, I really do. The past Book Holders were all such babies... They either gave in and killed themselves to avoid their fate, just to let the next family member deal with it. They were failures who died their first try, or simply just pacifists who did the bare minimum and still lived their lives peacefully an with family. No rage or ill will driving them forward. But you Jolene, you are different. You were BORN for this curse, you are the perfect one for it. Apathetic and strong. You are willing to do whatever it takes to fulfill it. Your rage drives you but doesn’t mess with you mentally! You don’t let it get to you, you simply accept it! Your heart is so hollow, its soft for that... “family”... of yours but in the end you would cash them all in instantly just to take another step forward! That’s what is so beautiful about you Jolene! You go forward, no steps back allowed! If there has been anyone close enough to actually completing this fucking quest its always been YOU! Your apathy, your drive for the revenge is what makes you who you are! ITS WHO YOU ARE JOLENE!” The liepard releases her wrists from his grip and sits up, arms raised towards the sky, laughing in triumph. “The entire world is NOTHING to you! Nothing matters but what you WANT! You want-no dare I say NEED that revenge! You are a hollow shell of a person but god you wear it with such STYLE Jolene! That’s why I've always been tracking you, keeping interest and adding in some spice! You always manage to surprise me with how far you go! You never let it GET to you! Yeah sometimes you drink and get a bit sappy but HEY who doesn’t! Even so it’s not so much about this petty curse!” Jody stares at him in shock as he shouts at the sky, he was fucking insane.

“Jolene to you there are NO limits! Hell! Most of the time I find myself ROOTING for you! I want to see how far you will go, how high you will reach, how much you will slaughter and hurt! You have such craftsmanship and you don’t even realize! So many can only DREAM of being as cold as yourself Jolene, but that’s just who you are!” Ryan stands up with his arms still raised to the sky in praise as he snaps his head down to stare at her with that damned grin. “God HIMSELF would quake in your presence Jolene! For he hath not no idea what he himself has created!” His laughter fills the air as he covers his face with a smile, stepping off of her body and leaning against a tree with glee. Jody sits up slowly, what point was he trying to make again... How did this conversation end up like this... How did she let this... batshit crazy feline make her feel this way. Ryan’s gleeful laughter continues for a minute more before his smile slowly fades and he lets out a heavy sigh. “But Jolene... even the greatest have their faults... Yours just happens to be your delusion about all this. Oh Jolene you could be so much greater than this, but you have your plan and will stick to it. I can admire that. But if you honestly think... that things will get better... that things will be fine... You truly are a idiot.” placing his hands in his pockets he slowly turns back towards her with a cold expression. Tail swishing back and forth as he slowly begins to walk towards her. She struggles to stand back up and gets in a defensive position, unknowing of what he’s going to do next. “You are either going to die trying to complete this quest or complete it and then kill yourself afterwards. The void that will be left in your hollow chest will be too great. This curse is all you’ve had Jolene, its the one thing that has never left and never truly will leave you. Even if you defeat the great witch, the weight of what you have done will weigh on you just as the curse once did. Once you die, you aren’t going anywhere, Not heaven, not hell not even a ghost. You will be lost in the stars just like everyone before you. You will be forgotten. But that’s how it is Jolene. You don’t DESERVE a happy ending, curse or not.” The feline approaches her and lifts her chin up with a single finger, forcing her to make eye contact with him. “This curse... that book... Is all you have Jolene. It’s all you’ll ever have. It’s WHO you are Jolene. Once a diary is completed, no more pages can be properly added without over stuffing it. You live by the book, you’ll die by the book. You are nothing without it. Once you have completed it, you will complete. Then you can die, its the closest thing you will ever receive to rest.” Jody jerks her head away, staring at the dirt below her with a apathetic expression. Her body felt numb and lifeless, she hadn’t felt this way in years. Her silence causes Ryan to snort and flash a grin. “The sooner you accept that, the better Doll. It’s who you are, all you’ll ever be. It’s all you have anymore.” The liepard chuckles once more before walking away, grabbing his own tail and twirling it as he strolls down the pathway away from her. His peaceful whistling slowly fading away as he strolls off. The breeze gently blowing through the fur on her coat, the only sound heard being the rustling of the leaves. Jody stares at her feet, no thoughts going through her head for once. She had no response, no denial, no coming up with a different plan to prove him wrong. Nothing. absolutely nothing. No rage filled defiance... No sarcastic response to what he had said.... pure nothingness. She slowly falls to her knees as her chest slowly began to feel heavy. Her body begins to shake slowly and her breathing quickens, making the heavy feeling in her chest only worsen. A dull pain began to form in her head, her hands shakily began to reach towards her face, vision beginning to blur. The cliff side remained silent, only the sound of the breeze and the leaves rustling could be heard. Slowly hunching over and touching her head to the ground, curled up in shame and body shaking uncontrollably. Her breathing quickened and the heaviness in her chest grew into a severe pain as her wheezing breaths caused her abdomen to jerk with each quick breath and for the first time since she was a child she let the tears out silently. She was alone

as it should be.

#Writing #not art #text post #long post #ask blog stuff #RyanLiepard #self harm mention #violence mention #suicide mention #take more of my shitty writing ya'll #Old writing #JodyBennet

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oldladydatin · 5 years ago

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The Catfish Chef

My bestfriend watches these crazy reality shows all the time. When I first started talking to men that weren’t my ex husband her favorite thing to say to me was “Girl, you being catfished,” I would always say I don’t even understand what that means. She’d explain it to me and I’d think that doesn’t make any sense? Why would someone pretend to be something they’re not? The great thing about lies is that eventually they always get discovered? So if you lie about who you are, eventually the other person is going to find out? So why lie. But she’s said that about every guy I’ve gotten involved with and the crazy thing is how often she’s right. I’ve been lied to about everything! Occupation, financial status, marital status, other women, felonies, living situations, children, appearance, anything you can think of, I’ve been lied to about it. Being “catfished” is sadly apart of online dating that you have to be worried about.

I’ve been seeing someone the last few weeks. I had my reservations about this relationship from the beginning. But I did what I always do and talked myself out of my feelings. Honestly the things that concerned me were probably very real and valid concerns but felt judgmental. This guy is from Guatemala, he has hypertension and diabetes, and like a lot of people I run across with such issues he didn’t take care of it. Now he’s in renal failure in his early 40′s and he gets dialysis three times a week. I’m a nurse, I’m very aware of what that means for his life, and if I take him on what it would mean for my life. I’m worried about dating someone with such huge medical issues, but that feels judgmental. He also tells me he’s on the donor list, it’s a 5 year wait list, after I explained to him I love to travel and asked if he could even do that on dialysis. I asked a few friends would you date someone in renal failure and they all felt the same way I did. The other one was he alleged he was 5′3″, I don’t really like short men, to me my ex boyfriend was the shortest guy I had ever dated, and the shortest guy I’d consider dating. But then I’m 5′2″ and I show up to a date and I’m taller than him, so he’s not 5′3″ at all. I didn’t say anything because I thought maybe he’s self conscious about it, it’s definitely the number one thing men lie about. But the more we talk the more I think this guy is sweet and he seems caring, maybe this is okay, however I made it clear I wanted to keep it open and move slow, because let’s be honest here, I no longer trust men.

He’s so sweet and romantic. I have three vases of flowers in my house right now because every time he shows up to get me he brings flowers. He asked my favorite colors and he always makes sure they’re my favorite colors. He’s written me poetry, he’s extremely attentive, he checks on me all day. He got almond milk ice cream and we went up the mountain to see the sunset and ate ice cream together. He took me out on my birthday to get margaritas at my favorite bar and got me my favorite gluten free brownie. For my birthday after only seeing each other for a few days he got me roses and oddly a blue tooth vibrator we could use together. No one has ever gotten me a sex toy? I’ve bought sex toys to use with my partners but nobodies ever thought of me like that. This was fun and a surprise but also strange because we hadn’t had sex. We had kissed, cuddled and held hands, but no sex. He was always trying to come over and help me with things around my house, he was constantly offering to cook for me. As we talked he was literally assessing how he could help make my life easier. He’d wake me up with cheesy pick up lines, they were cute. We spent a night video chatting and playing with the blue tooth toy, I’d never done anything like that and it was a lot of fun. I love the way he says babe, and all the lovey nicknames he gives me. On the surface he seems like a dream come true.

The downsides come out one by one. First thing is he wants to text all day, and I mean ALL day, or spend all day together, I can’t get anything done. I ask him “don’t you have to work?” he says he just got out of the hospital for some GI issue and he’s taking some time off, that makes sense. He picks me up for our first date and we’re talking over dinner and he starts telling me about issues with his daughter. He tells me him and his ex are good friends and how when he first got sick his ex took him in, when that wasn’t working out she bank rolled an apartment for him, then she kicked him out and he had to move in with his mom. So, this guy lives with him mom. He told me he owned and operated a business so I ask about that. He tells me about this business his friend and him started and then he says when he got sick, two years prior, he had to step back because he couldn’t do it. Slowly I realize, he doesn’t work, he doesn’t have a job. He wants to text me and be with me all hours of the day because he literally has nothing else to do? He has nothing else to focus on? All he does is dialysis for 4 hours, 3 times a week. While I understand that’s a lot, and I understand that it wears you out, I know many people who find jobs they can do with those issues, he’s given up. So I start to notice he’ll ask me how I’m doing and if I’m not feeling great or I complain about something he turns it into a whose life is worse Olympics every time. So I quit telling him how I am, because my ex husband used to do that and I know all too well there’s no winning the whose life sucks worse Olympics, especially against someone whose hobby is self pity, I just don’t spend that much time on the negatives in my life. I also start noticing he’s wallowing in it, and suggested he see a therapist, he seemed offended by this and then starts to swear he’s the most positive person ever. He starts blaming all of his issues on everyone else. He takes me out another time and I find out “his” car is really his mom’s car. He takes me out another time and tells me he never does anything, like he won’t even explore the mountain on his own because he’d rather have someone to share every single thing with. I take this badly because to me he doesn’t even sound emotionally independent. He’s also missing a lot of teeth. So at this point he’s truly just riding on the fact that he treats me well, but I’m extremely nervous about being involved with him because he doesn’t have a lot to offer me, and his negative traits remind me of being with my ex husband.

The icing on this shitty cake. One night we hang out and I finally offer for him to come in my house. We have talked extensively about my insanely high sex drive, he knows I’m a very sexual person. He knows I’ve 700 male followers online and that I have some pictures out there, he knows I explored being a cam girl. He also knows about the bdsm stuff. He’s had a few freak outs about that, because he’s hella insecure. I worried because one day he asked me if I hated small dicks and when I said yes he kind of freaked out about how I’m going to cheat on him so I’m thinking does this man have a tiny dick? I’d mentioned I had a bbc fetish, he freaked he said all of his girlfriends have cheated on him with a bbc men. But then, I mentioned the fact that I had put it out there that i’d like to experience being with a women and he freaked out about how all his girlfriends have left him for women, so I’m not sure what to believe. We make out in my room and he plays with me with his fingers and it doesn’t go past that. I’m super frustrated by this. He rubs my back until I pass out and I wake up a few hours later and I’m horny, so I made the move that time. I start kissing him, I take my clothes off, I essentially tell him what to do, but again he stops short. So I grabbed his dick through his pants, which was in no way erect and it’s small. He says he’s sorry but with the diabetes he can’t get hard. I worried about him having ED with his medical issues. But I’m a little shocked because he’s aware I’m going to want sex and a lot of it? And this man can’t fuck me? I wish when they were explaining hypertension and diabetes to men, instead of telling them about what that does to their heart or their lungs, or eyes, that they’d start with the fact that it can give you erectile dysfunction. So now I’m in bed, naked, with a guy who can’t do anything for me and he says to me, well we can use your toys? I can use my toys, that’s for alone time? What a nightmare. I can’t believe this is happening to me again!

I go to work and I’m telling a friend about all this when all the girls started trickling in. Odd thing about my job is when I first started I was told multiple times, by multiple people, that these people were going to be my family now. I didn’t believe that but after about a year they were most definitely my family and I couldn’t have gotten through so much in this past year and a half without them in my life. I share this awkward sexual experience with all of them and we’re just laughing hysterically.

Friend: You tell him you gonna have to cheat on him? Cause I’d cheat on him!

Me: Girl even if he got a prescription for viagra it was tiny? There wasn’t enough there to do anything with regardless. I can’t be in a relationship with a man who can’t fuck me?

Then I told them the kicker, he left stuff at my house! He really did! I think he knew this was probably the end of us dating and he left stuff. He left his wallet? I was trying to get him to come right back and get all this stuff but he wouldn’t. He made some joke about how I could just mail it if I was trying to get rid of him. My friend said, girl did you get his address? I’d have been like what’s your address? I’ll send it out today.

So I met a man in his 40′s whose dating profile made it sound like he was a chef, with a business, and single dad, who has his shit together. What I got was a disabled, homeless, jobless, carless, toothless, dickless guy, whose adult daughter won’t talk to him, who definitely does not have his shit together, and been living off other people for years.

Today I woke up to 5 text messages and 3 snaps, when I suddenly remembered his drivers license is in his wallet, and that has his address on it. Bye Felicia!

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consumptiontofunction-blog · 6 years ago

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I am here.

Hello Tumblr.

My name is Christine, but you can call me CJ. I’m 24 years old, and I am trying, desperately, to save myself from dying. Though I don’t know how desperate I can consider myself to be considering I am only on step one of what I expect to be the longest journey of my life.

I weigh 430 pounds. I have severe asthma, anemia, and a calcium deficiency. I have crippling joint pain. My mobility is severely limited. I’ve always just assumed I’m fat because I’m lazy and I like food. But four months ago, I was diagnosed with binge eating disorder; the definite cause of most of my health problems. I have apparently actually had it for approximately fifteen years of my life... Long enough to not even know that it wasn’t normal. Wasn’t normal to think about food constantly. Wasn’t normal to plan every aspect of my life around meals. Wasn’t normal to ONLY look forward to when I finally got to binge again. Wasn’t normal that I couldn’t find the heart to get that excited about ANYTHING else. Wasn’t normal to tell stories about fond memories of trips, family gatherings, adventures with friends, only to predominantly focus on the meals I had, because everything else is blurry; because I always remember every meal in precise detail. Wasn’t normal that the only time I felt in touch with myself was when I was eating.

In all honesty, someone should have noticed a lot sooner. Society is so blinded by its genuine hatred of fatness, and in turn fat people, that it never occurred to anyone that it wasn’t normal for a thirteen year old to weigh 300 pounds. That there was no way that there was anything wrong with my weight that wasn’t blatantly my fault. It never occurred to anyone that my constant weight gain might be weird, despite the fact that over the course of the decade I was in mental health treatment of varying types the entire time. Not once was a therapist, psychiatrist, or doctor like “Maybe it’s weird that this human being has gained more than 100 pounds over the course of less than a decade. Maybe there is a mental health component to that.”

I’ll be honest, I’m a little salty.

Being diagnosed was simultaneously the most validated and the most devastated I’ve ever been in my life. I cried the realest tears I’ve ever cried. For the first time, the things I was saying felt true. Not because I had been lying, necessarily. Though I will admit that when it comes to my eating, I have rarely told the full truth to anyone. It can be humiliating to explain it only to have them judge what I’ve said as “Oh this chick is gross”. But no, it was because for the first time I had told the truth to someone who, in turn, looked fucking SHOCKED. Who was floored by how incredibly not normal it was. Who said to me “Of course there is something wrong. You have an eating disorder, and I genuinely cannot believe you haven’t been diagnosed yet. There is no way someone is going to approve you for bariatric surgery. You could literally die.” (Of course, she said this a lot more nicely. She is a dietitian, and an amazing fucking woman. Despite having only met with her a handful of times, she will always be a massively important part of my life. She was step zero of what is the hardest thing I will ever do... If I even can do it.)

The next four months were a mess. The jist of it is that I went into the worst depression of my life. (I made this blog less than a week after my diagnosis, early December, but it took me this long to come back and finally post something.) I went into a partial treatment center two weeks into the new year. A week and a half in, my counselor recommended I go into a residential program.

That was the SECOND simultaneously most validated and devastated I’ve ever been in my life. I said a really hard, firm no to that initially. I didn’t want to leave my dad, or my fiance, or my friends. I would have to go five hours away to this place, and it just was too much. I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself go through the stages of grief so obviously (or so insanely quickly). It took about ten minutes to accept that I was going to go. But it took another seven weeks to accept that I needed to go, and that I actually might be able to fight this.

Literally last night. Literally.

Due to an insurance issue, it took seven weeks to get a set day I would go. Today is Wednesday. I leave on Sunday. But something clicked in my head last night. See, back in November, my life was FINALLY starting to turn around. I was going to start school in January to be a radiology technician. I was starting the process for bariatric surgery. I had an appointment scheduled with a dietitian who would review my case before submitting my application for it. I had my birthday on November 30th being one hundred percent confident that I was finally, FINALLY making some headway. I would finally lose enough weight to not be in pain. I would finally be on the road to a career. I knew my boyfriend was planning to propose soon. 24 is my favorite number; it has been all my life. I just KNEW that all the best things were going to happen to me when I was 24. I knew for so long that it would be a monumental year.

Less than a week later was when I got my diagnosis.

I have never lost so much hope. I’ve always been able to keep at least a little bit of hope in my back pocket. I’ve been fighting all my life to get better, and I’ve always been able to maintain at least a little confidence that someday I would win. But after that, I felt truly, completely, gut-wrenchingly hopeless. I didn’t realize it until then, but something inside of me “knew” that this was the fight I couldn’t win. Since waaaayyyyy before my diagnosis. My mental process when planning for my pre-surgery meal plan was “fake it long enough to get the surgery”. I didn’t quite know what I was faking, but I knew I couldn’t authentically do what they wanted me to. Knowing that I couldn’t get the surgery meant I had no hope for my future, because I truly believed I could never get better, never have control over my eating, and that trying was a moot point. I could have the weight removed by someone else, but I could never have the self control to stop eating the way I was. I went home and broke down to my now-fiance. In my emotional state, I remember wailing “how will I ever be able to be happy without this?”. I genuinely thought that the entirety of my happiness rested on the shoulders of eating compulsively; that nothing could make me as happy as food. That’s how fucked up my brain is. I was truly, completely, utterly hopeless. I was fucking broken. My dream of my 24th year being the amazing turn around story was smashed to smithereens. It was over, and I had given up.

I’ve clawed myself up quite a bit. I accepted that I was leaving, and I began to prepare my life around me to be placed gently on hold. I’ve made an extra effort to enjoy my time with my father, my fiance, my friends. I’ve poured myself into my hobbies while I had the time. I spent a lot of time reading about eating disorders, about the misconceptions around binge eating, about the treatment process, about people who were a lot bigger than me who had succeeded in getting better.

Then, last night, I was having a conversation with my fiance about my planned treatment process for the rest of the year. Residential for one to three months, coming back to go to the same partial program I was at before for several months, going into an intensive outpatient treatment for several months, and eventually taking everything completely into my own hands with outpatient care, at which point I will re-begin the bariatric surgery process. Then completely out of the blue, something hit me. My eating would be completely or almost completely in someone else’s hands for all of residential and partial. Could be up to SIX MONTHS. At my metabolic rate, I could likely lose fifty pounds in that time. I wouldn’t have to follow a meal plan of my own, at home, until IOP, and even then it would only be a few days a week.. That really could be enough time with it out of my hands to develop the right habits to make it the rest of the way on my own, to lose enough weight to give me the drive to keep the ball rolling.

And suddenly, I was sobbing again. Because finally, four months later, it was there again.

Hope.

Maybe this is the thing that I’ve been waiting for. Maybe this is my big 24 turn around story. Maybe I will still look back on this year as the most important of my life. Maybe ten years from now, I will know that this was when my life finally started.

I don’t know for sure yet. What I do know, is that in four days I am driving down to Philadelphia to do something huge, and that is brave as fuck. That I am taking a massive plunge in the name of my own wellness. I will admit, I have always been good at getting better. I’ve always been a fighter. I’m not quite ready to give up yet.

I’m going to post when I can, because I want to track this journey. Most of what I write will come from a place of emotion, and I can’t guarantee I will always be kind to myself or everyone else. But I want a record of this, at least tidbits here and there.

Welcome to my blog. Maybe I can actually do this.

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urfavmurtad · 7 years ago

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(1) Hey, I’m a 19 year old Muslim girl living in Canada. I’ve lived my entire life raised around Western culture so I guess I’m what you would call a Moderate Muslim. Until about a year ago, I believed that Islam could be accepting of values such as feminism, lgbtq+ acceptance etc. But then I realized the noticeable lack of these values in our community and realized I was kidding myself if I believed that anyone in my family would accept someone coming out as gay...

(2) So I started to preach moderate values. I told everyone I knew that some great changes had to be made in our community. That was until recently. Now, I realize I can’t really preach these changes in our community if they contradict a fundamental scripture. I came to the horrible realization that I actually disagree with the Quran. In fact, it goes beyond that: I have a problem with the whole concept of organized religion and the many basic philosophies that accompany all religions…

(3) I’m still double-minded though. I do hijab, and was previously extremely religious (prayed extra, learned the Quran by heart) and I find it so difficult to just leave the entire religion. I feel like I need to talk to someone, because the very idea is so daunting that I can’t even think it out loud, much less mention it to anyone. And that’s a personal struggle; I haven’t even started to think about the cultural and familial backlash. What is your advice for anyone in this kind of situation?

Anon I’m so sorry it took me forever to answer this, I’ve been in everyone’s favorite desert kingdom for exciting family bonding adventures as of late. Lemme just say before I start what is sure to be another long post that I completely understand where you’re coming from. A lot of people who leave Islam, myself included, go through a sort of bargaining phase where you really want to make it work, because so much of your life is tied to it in one way or another, and it just… doesn’t. And you realize that most Muslims aren’t really into making it work, either, and you’re just supposed to accept that. We’re also basically in the same spot with still outwardly “performing Muslim-ness” despite our thoughts on the religion itself, both for family reasons and because it’s extremely difficult to go from being outwardly pious/devout to… less devout, without people judging you and asking questions. Like you, I have never told anyone in my family that I’m even sort of non-religious. That’s gonna be a hell of a bridge to cross and I’m not even thinking about it until I finish college. Financial independence has to come first.

So I can’t pretend that I have all the answers for you here. All I can do is share some advice that has been helpful to me. First of all: never, ever feel guilty for not being fully open with your thoughts on this subject or “hiding” until you feel ready to share them. I don’t need to tell you that things like this often cause lost friendships, family drama, and cruel gossip. You don’t need that in your life right now, and given your age, there’s not much to be gained from having your lack of faith be public knowledge. The way you feel is your business and no one else’s. If you don’t feel like you’re in a good place to publicly leave the religion, there’s nothing wrong with, to put it bluntly, faking it for a while.

Someone on here asked me once if I feel guilty for “cheating” my parents (in terms of them paying for school and such), knowing that they’d disapprove of certain life choices of mine if they knew about them. And the answer to that is no. The fact that I don’t believe in Islam is none of my parents’ business and won’t be their business until I choose to inform them of it. I live a perfectly fine Muslimah life and do not cause them embarrassment or Great Family Shame. Sure, I’m just going through the motions at this point and don’t believe in any of it, from praying to “modesty”, but that is none of their concern. There is nothing wrong with keeping it personal until you feel completely comfortable being open about it irl. I do plan on getting there one day, both in terms of my (lack of) religion and my sexuality, but I am fully prepared for the possibility of my family basically refusing to interact with me afterwards. That’s a lot to deal with, and I don’t feel bad about waiting for the right time to unload all of that baggage. You shouldn’t feel bad about it, either.

That brings me to the second order of business. I already wrote about this in this post here but imo it’s so important to find a community, or multiple communities, to fill whatever void might be created in your social net if you ever do end up totally leaving. A huge part of what draws people to religion is the sense of belonging and a sense of having people who will always be there for you in your time of need. If you pull that rug out from under yourself without anything there to catch your fall, it can make you feel really lonely. Make sure you have an irl support network of some kind. Whether that takes the form of an actual group (like I said in the other post, I’m part of a charity group that is rly awesome and full of great people) or club or just a few non-religious friends, it doesn’t matter–as long as you know that you have supportive and loving people around you, no matter what. And it’s just as important to have some hobby in your life that has some sort of communal aspect to it (I do community gardening and cooking in school!). It’s so crucial, especially if you’re like me and hate socializing, because it creates a safe community for you that’s totally separate from your religion and your family/religious friends.

Another to keep in mind is that leaving Islam and recognizing its shittier aspects doesn’t mean you have to, like, abandon your ethnicity and entire sense of self. Culture and religion go hand-in-hand in most Muslim countries, but they don’t have to be totally inseparable. If there is something you like about your culture, or some practice you enjoy that is “supposed to be” for faithful Muslims only, or something that’s “supposed” to be done only in a certain religious way, you can go ahead keep doing that thing without any issue. You can still enjoy the history and past and traditions of your native country, though you are also more than allowed to look at some religious traditions you grew up with through a critical lens. You don’t have to throw away your entire identity just because you leave a religion, and you most definitely don’t have to shut up and never talk about it ever again. Keep the things you love about your culture and your upbringing and feel free to throw the bad things into the trash where they belong, now that you feel no spiritual drive to defend them. Don’t let anyone guilt you into either staying silent about the bad parts or never participating in the good parts. If I ever have kids, they’re getting so much eidi it’ll be ridiculous. And they’ll get a Christmas tree because I like the way they look. We’ll throw a Black Santa in there too, because fuck it, why not.

So that’s the summary. Keep the good, get rid of the bad. Don’t feel any guilt for either part of that. And if someone tells you “noo you can’t do X if you’re not Muslim” or “nooo you can’t do Y without doing Z”, you can feel free to tell them

On a semi-related note, I think that you’ve already started a process that I found really helpful, which is to think about exactly what you find both wrong and absurd about Islam–as in the codified faith itself, not just “cultural” matters. Whenever someone leaves a religion, you’ll always have people saying “oh, they just don’t understand the real religion”. That goes 500x for Islam; virtually all people who leave Islam are told that they just don’t get it. It can feel like gaslighting sometimes. So it’s extremely useful to be able to point to specific parts of the Quran that I find objectively wrong, to say nothing of the ahadith. I have very solid reasons for no longer believing in the faith. I no longer question them, and I don’t let people tell me that I just don’t understand.

And that leads into another hugely important process, which is finding your own system of morality outside the realm of religion. I’ve heard so many shaikhs and dawah bros say “if you’re not religious, how can you have any morals?”, often taking that to absurd conclusions, like saying you have to be fine with murder or whatever. That is, obviously, insane. I don’t need a warlord and slave owner (PBUH) to explain to me why XYZ Is Bad. I can figure it out on my own and find a personal morality that doesn’t depend on any institution and is suited for the world that I live in. It sounds like you’re pretty much already there, and that’s a big deal. Having some moral structure in your life means that you won’t feel totally lost without Islam. You’re gonna be okay, sis.

So… like I said, hell if I have all the answers to these questions anon, I’m trying to figure all of it out myself. But that’s the best advice I can give you, and I hope it was at least semi-helpful? You can always feel free to message me or send me another ask if you ever just feel like ranting or screaming into the void, trust me, I get the feeling!! 💕

#ex muslim #ask #anon #atheism

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years ago

Text

the story of how i got 86ed from a bar.

So, I would like to talk about what happened yesterday morning. It all started the night before yesterday morning, so I will do my best to explain. My father called me from the bar, and asked if David (my brother) and I would please come down to the bar – which is only a few blocks away from where I live. The reason being, was that he had for some reason I don't quite understand, decided to let a very shifty couple who manage the bar use his light show system and speakers, as well as foot pedals and microphone systems that he had lent to this bar for free use when bands came. This is kind of his hobby, buying musical equipment, hoping I think to someday be able to rent out his stuff to local bands. My father drinks too much, and he tends to make very poor choices in friends, but that is another story. He needed us to help him pack up his stuff, or at least chorale into one area so it would be easy to take home with him the next day.

This couple does not own the bar, but they do manage it. Technically, the husband was fired. He's not in any place of authority, however after he was fired he continued to walk around barking orders and such just like he always had in the past – reason being that his wife is still running the show. As the last month or so has gone on, this guy (Josh is his name), has essentially getting really weird about my father's musical equipment, and has started to talk like he owns it all. To make things more shady, he does a lot of methamphetamines, is nearly always plastered and has a gambling addiction. His wife is revving up to divorce him. He's a total chaotic mess, and by my estimation, not a very good person. Of course, my father decided to try to do this with this Josh fellow anyway. He didn't really want Josh to be involved with his ambitions on setting up these concerts, but Josh inserted himself into it anyway. Then, Josh started making strange demands of m y father regarding his equipment, which he had zero rights to, and then, in the course of a few weeks, 400$ worth of my father's stuff went missing. For the last week, my father had wanted to get his stuff out of there, but given Josh's increasingly erratic behavior – the fact that he was likely the one who stole my father's stuff to begin with and was therefore acting really over the top about it, my father was afraid to go there by himself and try to pack the stuff up – fearing that this Josh guy might now claim that this thousands of dollars worth of equipment belonged to him, and essentially causing my father to lose all of this stuff he's worked so hard to save up. It's not fair, but if this stuff was in the keeping of the bar, the police could be called if Josh wanted to. It was getting sort of crazy.

So, I get this call around midnight, after the final band (some really predictable and lame Nu-metal Post Grunge band) had finished playing. This Josh dude freaked out when David and I arrived. He started getting in our face sort of. He was babbling like a lunatic, making weird accusations towards us all. I didn't even know this person until that night, and he was acting very hostile. He grabbed things out of our hands, accused us of stealing, ordered us around. He kept insisting we do things in a very terrible fashion, and kept making creepy comments about how he wasn't a thief, but my father at the same time had it coming. In short, I hated him. It's not that I really agree or like what my dad for everything, but as far as the bar is concerned, he really did nothing but offer a service for free. It was clear that this Josh dude was really drunk and high. My father silently worked and ignored him. Josh would randomly freak out and accuse my father of trying to beat him up, as my father just kept working on moving the amps and sound system stuff, and collecting the cords and whathaveyou.

My brother David has severe anxiety disorder and BPD. Overall, he works with it the best he can. He's quiet, but when people give him shit, he has to kind of hide because if he is messed with, he will fight – and probably get in trouble with the law. He has a history of being abused, and takes life very seriously. For this reason, he has a certain expression on his face that for some reason causes mentally unstable men and police officers to attack him (there are some stories I could tell about how police officers have almost killed him – but that's a story for another time). He has a very short fuse. I have a bad temper as well, but I am slightly more inclined to use my words – though eventually I fight back too. I have similar issues in that I also can really lose my cool and get violent in situations where I feel stepped on or threatened, and I have panic disorder. I don't have the kinds of mood swings as David suffers with, and I have a more jovial sense of humor and probably a more positive outlook – and also I am clearly a nerdy white girl, so police/others don't bother me as much as they do him.

David and I did what we could to help my father move the equipment. I realized how vital it was that we get his stuff out of there before this Josh guy does something drastic. He was really getting out of control, and making me sick to my stomach. He wouldn't stop screaming and babbling for an entire hour, and given both my own and my brother's disposition towards people like this dude, it was all we could manage on my father' behalf to keep our mouths shut as he continued on berating us all. We managed to get the stuff put into one place for an easy pick up the next day – the sooner the better.

My father stayed the night at our place, and we went back the next morning to check on the stuff. This Josh dude hadn't slept. He was still completely smashed, and even more erratic and high than normal. The people who worked in the kitchen area of the bar warned us that Josh was acting like a lunatic. I guess he had gotten the cops called that night for being too loud, and he also had gotten in a fight with his wife. The bar was open, but quiet. We were going to check on everything and come back, but as soon as we looked around, we decided not to. We started grabbing the stuff we could find to haul into the pick up and this was when this Josh guy got really out of control. He started getting in my father's face, demanding that we take our equipment and put it in places we didn't want to. He was doing everything he had been last night, only worse. It was very clear that he was purposely trying to get someone to take a swing at him. My father – for as bad a temper as I know he has – was actually ignoring him, but even he told Josh to just go away. Josh started screaming and saying that we had all used him ; we didn't appreciate all the good things he had done for us all. This was insane since David and I did not know who he was – and he had been a total creep to us for the entire time we had been around him.

As my father and brother were trying to move a light system – David noticed that many of my father's speakers were packed in the back of Josh's pick up truck. We had caught him in the act of attempting to drive off with the speakers. David and my father proceeded to get them out of the pick up bed and take them back to our area. Josh came over and sort of shoved my brother out of the way. Then he started screaming that we were the thieves, not him. He started getting his face really close to my brother's face, and grabbing his arms. He was really vying to get his nose broke – so he could call the cops and get some satisfaction I guess from being a victim and getting back and my father – for taking his own stuff back home. It was really crazy, and really unpleasant. I felt my own resolve breaking on trying to stay classy and keep my mouth shut. And as soon as I saw him grabbing up on David, I got really defensive and told him to back off David and leave us alone. He started trying to say that David had tried to hit him, which wasn't true. I knew that it was about to be true. If David broke, he would have crushed this Josh guy's skull. Obviously that would have been horrible all the way around. I freaked out at Josh. I told him to get away from us. I just started slinging insults at him, that he was gross and inappropriate. That it was obvious that women rejected him and that nobody liked him. I laughed at him and told him that he was overcompensating for the fact that he was worthless, and he knew it – and that he obviously was a man with a small dick. Which I could tell stung him. He was fuming.

As I did this, my father got really frustrated at me and kept begging me to back off. I can kind of understand it, and I sort of can't. In my father's mind, it really was just heating the situation up further and he wanted to ignore Josh and get his stuff out. Part of this is because my father is an alcoholic and this bar was his personal favorite place to drink. He didn't want to burn a bridge – and he didn't want to get really Jerry Springerish with Josh – as that is exactly what he wanted. What my father hadn't fully realized, is that David would have probably been locked up in jail had I not stepped in and Josh would be in the hospital ready to sue. It was Josh who escalated the situation to where it had been, not me. Ignoring people like this guy is always the best option – I agree. But it was already too late, and it was better that I, the female that he didn't anticipate fighting actually be the one to step in at that moment. Most older men I have met are sexist on a sliding scale, and many of them don't see women as equal. They don't anticipate women getting cocky. And men have strange honor codes concerning insulting each other's mother, talking about dick size, and the like. Women – being sort of considered lesser, weaker creatures, are not part of that honor system. We don't count. He wanted to fight with my father and brother not me, but what he was going to get was me ultimately.

To me, Josh's lack of boundaries and his disturbing and stress inducing behavior was triggering me. I really do not trust most men, and I have very good reason. I've had a lot of abusive experiences. I just don't take to this stuff well, and in my book, when a man is harassing you, you fight as dirty as I have to. Not being truly apart of a man's world, I don't feel like I have to honor the codes of conduct that men have with one another. If I feel physically threatened by a man, I will kick him between the legs. I will insult him in personal demeaning ways. If a man steps on my boundaries or tries to make me feel small, I will go for the psychological jugular. I did eventually back off, but only because I realized that aside from a few things I had said, Josh was babbling like a mad man and was so high and enraged he couldn't even hear what he was saying. There was nothing to win really, but I had made him leave my brother alone, which was good. I laughed at him, as he screamed at me from across the lot to stop laughing at him. He tried to say that he had done so much for us – and this was how we treated him. I am not going to lie, I took some satisfaction that I had slaughtered his ego.

I ended up getting left there alone, as my brother and dad were trying to pack up and move the equipment somewhere safe. In the mean time, I was sent into the bar, to untangle a bunch of cords. My father was hoping that sending me in there would cause me to be in a place where Josh would feel less comfortable attacking me, since there were customers eating and such. I sat down and started untangling cords and taping them. For awhile Josh didn't show up because I assume he had to do more drugs and drink more. He came out, and he grabbed all the stuff I was working on out of my hands. I tried to ignore him, but he started screaming at me in front of customers saying I was 86ed, and he shoved me out the door. He then proceeded to scream at me and whine about how everyone took advantage of him and how he was such a nice guy. I told him to fuck off, and that I wasn't his counselor, but it really didn't register with him at all. It's really pointless to argue with someone who is drunk and high on a stimulant, is psychotically angry and hasn't slept. I felt myself getting shaky. If I had had my way, it would have been much better had I left him fuming about the tiny dick comment, but I was kind of trapped there for awhile.

As I was outside, I realized that my purse was still inside – and I went to go looking for it. I told him offhandedly that I was looking for my purse. He was babbling and screaming at me in front of customers – claiming that I was accusing him of stealing my purse – which wasn't true at all – I had just been separated from it when he had chosen to dish out his vengeance on me. Customers were looking over at him as he followed me around. I eventually talked in a loud voice – that when I girl tells a strange man to leave her alone, he should probably do that. Which did very little. I hated him so much. What frustrated me was that he had the upper hand and more power than me. Obviously, if he was someone I was going to have to spend a lot of time around, I could easily have turned the tables on him. But there was no possibility, need or especially want on my end to be around him for a second more. He was so nauseating and gross. I am not going to lie. Maybe I am a bad person, but I was envisioning bludgeoning him to death. People like him are very bad for the world. There was nothing nice about him at all.

Eventually, my father and brother came back. I told them what Josh had been saying to me. Every five minutes now, he would begin ranting about how my father had stolen five hundred dollars from him – an accusation that was totally out of the blue and made no sense. Then he changed it and said that my father had been the one abusing us. He was just making up crazy things at this point, and couldn't even keep up with himself. He obviously was freaked out that my father was outnumbered. When we had shown up with him, I guess Josh saw it as some kind of army. So, he went and called a bunch of really creepy men. They went into Josh's drug den to do drugs. We were just packing the last of the stuff as his friends were getting out of the drug room – freshly high in order to get in our faces – really because I had called Josh's dick small. Very pathetic. As we were driving away, they were encircling our truck and chanting something really stupid at us – but there was no further reason for us to be there, and that was a relief. We got the stuff out of there, and no cops were called. Hopefully, I will never have to go in there again. Even if I am not truly 86'ed, why on earth would I want to go to a gross bar like that. It's extremely unprofessional that Josh is allowed to be that crazy in front of customers.

My father didn't seem mad at me exactly, but I could tell he saw me as being the female-hysteric that had made things worse. In his mind, had the situation had only men involved, it would have been a better and more civil somehow. I think, given the fact that my father has a schema that women are weak and need to be sheltered, or are more of a gimmick when they are independent, it had bothered him to see his own daughter go after another guy's manhood as I had. I won't feel badly for anything I said or did. To me, I handled the situation appropriately – though I got weary at the end. He doesn't think women should fight back and he felt embarrassed that I -his strange daughter went ahead and shamelessly did so. I don't know. He felt weird about me being there – even though he had wanted my help initially. He also – albeit much more politely, was taking things out of my hands that weren't too heavy for me to haul as well. Like, he was trying to prevent me from helping. He kept telling me to let my brother do things that I was in the process of, and perfectly capable of doing. My brother wasn't so bad, but even he saw me as being intrinsically the weak one as Josh had been harassing me while they had been away. Mostly, he was being protective – and that is reasonable. In many ways, I had been protective over him – but given the way all the other guys in the situation were – I have to say there was a fair deal of sexism in the air. Men don't like it when women stand up for themselves. I think too, my father was angry because he felt like I had sort of caused him to lose one of his favorite places to drink. I imagine he will find his way back over there. Grossly, my father will likely end up befriending this Josh guy again. Because you know, men have some kind of creepy code with each other – and both of them have drinking problems.

Anyway, that's my story. I really need to get the hell out of this town.

#text

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ellawritesficssometimes · 7 years ago

Text

My Save Year -USUK (ch. 3)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12554533/1/My-Save-Year

Two days later…

Monday:

I was sitting at the front desk in the library, pawing through a files folder as I balanced a corded phone between my ear and shoulder.

"Yes, everything is fine," I sighed, annoyed at having to repeat myself. "I'm starting my third week here already. You know me, I've already developed a daily routine. I feel comfortable now. Hell, I'm so busy, I don't even feel stress anymore. I can't afford to."

Coping by using sarcastic puns? Check.

Midterms were around the corner, so most of my time was spent preparing for them well in advance. Grades were how I proved my self-worth, not to others, but to myself. I had nothing else going for me but my smarts.

"That's good to hear," Alistair grunted on the other end of the phone. "Even so, I just wanted to check in with ye again. Have ye made any new friends? Are ye eating properly? And don't ye dare lie to me, Artie. Ye ken full well that I'll come down there to romp yer skinny little arse if ye are."

I smirked and closed the files drawer shut. It emitted a satisfactory metallic thud.

I spun in my swivel chair and pushed off towards the desk part of the station so that I could smugly drum my fingers against the wooden surface.

"Actually, I have. Five total. Well," I corrected myself. "Three of them are more like acquaintances that I just so happen to share classes with. As for food? I've been trying, really I have. My roommate is even more ruthless than you are, like a hawk. He's resorted to force-feeding me because of my apparent lack in key nutrients."

Alistair laughed gruffly. "And here ye were at the beginning of the year, bitchin' and whining about having ta share a room with someone. It looks like it did ye a lotta good. I'm glad…and surprised. Since when has my wee little brother been so popular? I'm impressed. Nae, I'm proud and impressed."

I faltered. "The people here are…surprisingly nice. It's not like back home, where people's brains are even smaller than the limited geography. I've also noticed that, ah, there's a lot of diversity amongst the writers here, and I'm not just saying this because it's an international academy," I stumbled awkwardly.

Thankfully, Alistair knew how to address the subject without either skirting around it or directly addressing it. I flustered easily; he knew my boundaries of what I was okay with discussing.

"Artists are like tha'. Yer all either depressed, gay, lonely, bitter, or all four. Oops, looks like I just came up with half of yer biography," Alistair teased before changing the subject. "So, have you written anythin' lately? You haven't sent me somethin' for quite a while now."

Alistair was the supportive mother figure in my life. He overcompensated in our true mother's footsteps by taking interest in my hobbies. I only ever trusted Alistair to read my writing.

"Ha ha, very funny," I replied dryly. "Hmmm. I'll send you something soon. I have many assignments due in the coming weeks. I could always use another set of eyes to catch any mistakes."

"Yep."

"How are things in Scotland?" I asked.

"Good, could be better. My flat isna the best, but I'm making do. Mum called yesterday by the way…"

"Oh?" My stomach sank.

"She asked me to tell ye somethin'."

I didn't say anything, which prompted Alistair to tell me anyway.

"She asked me if yer coming back for Christmas… ye don't have to, though!" he blurted out. "I'd understand if ye didn't want to. Artie, I already told em' that you'd be coming home to my place for the holidays. That's the plan. It's up to ye if ye to change or stick with it."

I grit my teeth, swallowing sourly. "That's rich," I snorted bitterly. "You can tell her to fuck right off, along with the rest of them. They just don't want to look bad when I'm not there in front of the other relatives. I'm not going, not again. I don't want to go back, and no amount of guilt-tripping will ever make me. What nerve they have, honestly."

There went my relatively good mood.

My family may not have been physically abuse, but the belittling and constantly critical atmosphere was toxic for me. There were all just so passive-aggressive, it would drive anyone in my position insane. My other brothers would always hip-check me if I was in the way and would also make snide comments when I wasn't around. Mum was miserable, and Dad was just an angry bigot not even worthy of a description.

They didn't want me there, and I was sick of them pretending that they had accepted me for who I was. I haven't forgiven them, especially for the stairs incident with Patrick…

I'll repeat myself again: I wasn't going back. They had already done enough damage.

"I thought ye would say that," Alistair sadly stated. "Don't get me wrong, ye have every right to feel that way. I wasn't keen on going either if I'm to be perfectly honest. I'll make sure to relay the message for ye. No need to cause any more fights."

"Good, because I was definitely looking forward to us attempting to cook, only to give in after almost burning down the building and ordering take-out as a consolation meal," I mused, intending to lighten the mood. It worked.

After that, the conversation shifted to more trivial topics. I elaborated on school, my job, the many ghosts, as well as how strange the entire campus made me feel. I didn't mention the library's rooftop; I hadn't thought of it as very important.

My break was over quicker than expected, and I had to hang-up. It was odd how lenient and patient Alistair was being with me, as opposed to his usual stubborn, worry-wart self. I soon understood why he was acting as such when he said his goodbyes.

"I haven't heard ye be this happy in a while, Artie. I don't ken what's happening there, but I sure do hope that it keeps up. Take care, lad. And don't forget to call me, more than just one day a week if ye can. I'm always available when it comes to yer well-being, just make sure to keep the time in mind if ye do happen to catch me by surprise. Anyways, I have stuff to do, so I should probably let ye go. Best of luck on your midterms. Oh, and I love ye, very much, ye snobby brat."

I smiled. "I love you too, you hard-headed oaf," I retorted. "I'll speak to you again soon."

"Wha-?! Did you just say it back? Who are ye and what did you do with my bro–!"

Shocked, I hung up the phone.

"What in the bloody fuck was that?" I asked myself, feeling my face heat. The last time I had said something like that to him, I was no older than eight. My God, this school was turning me into such a sap.

No matter, I still had work to do. We had just gotten a whole new edition of textbooks to register into stock from the history section. Straightening both my blouse and posture, I set out to do just that.

It was four PM when Matthew came back from his last class of the day. My classes on Monday ended at noon, so I covered the middle shift. Technically, I was only hired to work on weekends, but I was slightly behind on my work as an assistant, so the administrators let me do an extra shift here and there to make up for it. The campus was privately run, so funding and payroll was never an issue.

Besides, the amount of books and files I had to keep track of was insane, near impossible even. I was also in the library most days, save for this weekend as a minor exception. I think you know why, but we'll get into that later.

I wasn't surprised to see Matthew carrying a platter of sandwiches in his hands. "Feeding time again?" I joked. I still found this whole situation ridiculous. It just didn't make any sense to me. A spirit eating food? I had never heard of something so preposterous.

"Oui, ah, yes," Matthew stuttered. "Egg salad is never a favourite in the staff room. I figured I wouldn't let them go to waste."

Matthew opened the plastic wrap covering the platter, offering me a sandwich. "They're pretty awful, but knowing you, you've only had breakfast today, huh?"

The Canadian knew me well. I didn't have a very large appetite, anxious or not. I either ate a lot or didn't eat at all, there was no in between. Although, the reminders I had set on my phone have helped. Throughout the day, I had many snacks, but none of them were meals – the downside of being dirt poor.

I accepted the sandwich, smiling politely as I took a small bite from it. "I don't see anything wrong with it," I shrugged.

"It's plain and processed," Matthew deadpanned. "I swear, you have such a strange taste in food. You'll eat anything, just like the ghost. Speaking of which, have you had a chance to look at the camera footage?" he asked, noting my disheartened expression. "Spooky, right?"

"Something's definitely funny about it," I replied. "Perhaps it's just the lighting, an optical illusion that makes it look like the food is disappearing. The cameras are old too. I still stand by my theory that a student is taking advantage of the free food."

Sue me, I was lying through my teeth. I didn't want many people to know about my abilities. Francis knew, and that was more than enough. Thing is, when I looked at previous camera footage, the food didn't just disappear. A dark and shaded pixelated spirit was in fact taking the food. It's just a pity I wasn't there to actually witness this, since the camera didn't possess the same sight as I did.

"Arthur," Matthew rolled his eyes. This was something we often bickered about now. "My family's been doing this for decades. There's a spirit here, many of them, but this one has the most personality. Keep denying the obvious if you want, but this library is very clearly haunted. Now, if you excuse me, I have a real-life ghost to feed. If I take too long, sometimes it gets impatient and knocks over books. One time it knocked over an entire shelf."

"Mhmm, sure," I hummed dismissively, a playful light in my eyes. "You keep telling yourself that."

"I will," Matthew huffed.

"Good."

"Bien."

"Fine."

"Hitting your head on Friday must have made you even stubborner. As if it wasn't already hard enough to get through to you," Matthew shook his head in disbelief.

The bruise at the back of my head throbbed a little at the reminder. I told Matthew that I had taken a bad fall on Friday, not wanting him to worry about me too much. Francis already did enough of that. I couldn't walk two feet without the Frenchman offering to hold my arm in support.

I had a minor concussion, that's it. Waking me up every hour of the night was more than unnecessary. Stupid patronizing frog. Don't even get me started on refusing to report the incident to campus security…

"Perhaps it did. I wouldn't know," I shrugged, prompting Matthew to leave with a thoroughly 'done' expression on his face.

When Matthew was out of sight, I rolled my chair over to the computer and opened the camera feed. I clicked on the specific one that surveyed the fiction section on the fifth floor. The food was always placed on the study tables there.

I spied on the Canadian, watching him place the sandwich platter in its usual spot. I shamelessly flipped through cameras, making sure that he was far out of hearing distance before I put my plan into motion.

I was going to stake out the spirit. I had done enough readings over the weekend to spare myself some extra time. I also may or may not have refused to leave my dorm room because of Friday's incident. All right, I did.

I had avoided visiting the rooftop because I didn't want to see Alfred. Now that he knew who I was, I couldn't bear to face him again. I didn't want his pity, nor did I want myself to believe that we could become chatting partners again.

He'd seen me in a very sorry, very pitiful state. I just knew that he would never look at me the same if we saw each other again. The problem was, I needed to investigate that rooftop, but he was always there. This mess just made everything more complicated than it needed to be. It was also bizarre how Alfred had just left without another word, but then again, I wasn't going to complain.

Moving on.

Hopefully, this stake out would answer most of my questions. I had very little patience monitoring the cameras; this plan was my only way of physically seeing the spirit, rather than just a fuzzy, pixelated blob on a screen.

Forget waiting, I wanted to know what it was. The uneasy feeling I got whenever I came here was beginning to drive me mad, like a pestering fly that wouldn't stop buzzing in your ear.

And so, that's how I found myself squatted behind a bookcase, phone digging into my hips due to the tight jeans I was wearing. I eyed the food platter, devotedly intending to stay for hours on end if I had to.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," I muttered to myself. "I won't hurt you, I promise. If anything, I just want to help. And here I thought I was stubborn…"

One hour later.

"Oh for fuck's sakes, I'm not going to bite."

Two hours later.

I stretched my back and neck, shifting my position into something more comfortable. I was leaning against the bookshelf now, occasionally looking over my shoulder, only to come up disappointed with the view of the still empty study area.

I was so used to the quiet that when my phone buzzed, I gave a sharp yelp in response.

Turns out, it was just Francis wanting to know if I had started plotting out my Creating Writing assignment. Our Russian professor, an alumnus at the school, was back to teaching here again. Apparently, we were immensely lucky to have him, since he didn't like staying at the campus for more than a year.

Lucky my arse. We had a 20,000 word one-shot due at the end of each month. The professor was out of his bloody mind! It was only a matter of time before I burnt out – a person only had so much creativity and sanity in them, after all.

I couldn't be bothered to answer Francis. I would do so later if I remembered to, which wasn't very likely if I'm to be perfectly honest. It got to the point where I had to turn off my phone to prevent him from blowing up my inbox. God, was he ever insufferable.

The time I spent waiting had almost passed the three-hour mark when a distinct creak and subsequent thud echoed across the area. Immediately, I turned around, eyes locked on the nearest study table.

"Easy does it," I mouthed. "I just want to see who or what you are…"

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST?!" I screamed, jolting upwards only to bang my head on the bookshelf.

My vision blacked out briefly as I reached out to cup the back of my now much sorer head. My vision swam, blurry, before focusing on a startled pair of blue eyes and shiny spectacles, glowing from the fluorescent lights above.

"A-Artie?" Alfred crouched down. "I'm sorry if I startled ya. It's just, I haven't heard from you since, well, you know… I thought I would find you myself. You did mention that you worked and studied here."

"I did, did I?" I groaned, glaring at him through tears. "Couldn't you have found me like a normal person, and oh, I don't know, not sneak up on me?"

Alfred didn't say anything. He looked like he wanted to reach out to see if I was okay, but given my short temper, he knew better not to.

"Stop looking at me like that, I'll be fine. And it's Arthur!" I blurted out. "How many times do I have to tell you that?… Fuck it, I don't even care. I-I should probably get going now." I stood up abruptly, wanting to get out of here as fast as possible.

"Arthur, wait!" Alfred called out when I turned my back on him.

Hesitantly, I turned around, defensive scowl already in place. My eyes bugged out as I took in his hulking height. He was several inches taller than me, albeit lanky. Of course, he was still wearing the same brown bomber jacket and folded jeans, blond hair stuck up in a messy muss. In his right hand, he gripped onto his notebook, and on his back, he was one-strapping a brown leather rucksack.

"What?" I wavered, shy to establish direct eye contact for too long.

"I'm, ah, sorry that I left you hanging like that. I panicked and didn't know what to do. It's why I went running off to find someone else to help out…"

"You found my roommate. I hate my roommate," I sarcastically spat.

Alfred nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh. I didn't know. He seemed nice enough, I guess," I trailed off.

"Is that all? I have to be somewhere."

"Don't lie to me, Arthur. I haven't known you all that long, and yet I can still tell when you're lying. You wear your emotions on your face. You don't just look troubled now. You look embarrassed and I'm here to tell you that you shouldn't. Is that why you haven't come on the roof these past few days? Because you thought I wouldn't accept you for who you are?"

"…Can you blame me?" I whispered, throat constricting. "You saw what they did, what they said. It's repulsive. I'm repulsive…"

"BULLSHIT!" Alfred exploded. When I flinched, he lowered his voice. "That's total bullshit, you hear me?! Don't say such things like that. It only gives those assholes free reign to do whatever the hell they want! You're better than that!"

I inched away from Alfred, hurt crossing over my expression. "Look, if you came here to yell at me, then you may as well just leave. I don't need this right now."

"Arthur," Alfred repeated. "Look man, I'm trying," he paused, taking a deep breath. "I want to be your friend, I really do. It's just hard standing here watching you beat yourself up like this. It's not right.

"Thing is, my anxiety does this weird thing where when I see someone in a similar position to me, I become strong and confident all of a sudden. My sister calls it this 'hero' persona. I don't really care… I'm not trying to be your hero, but I can't just stand around either. I came to talk to you."

I sighed. So that's why he was here. He was pushing aside his shyness to see if I was okay. Sweet, but unnecessary. A waste of his time if you ask me. "You don't have to, I'm fine."

"You weren't fine when I found you that night," Alfred interrupted. "Did you call campus security on those bozos? Maybe there was a camera that caught their faces. They deserve to expelled for what they did, a rotten bunch if I've ever seen one," he seethed.

"I didn't call anyone. I just want it to be done and over with. What happened, happened," I remarked curtly.

Alfred's jaw dropped. "You're not going to try and find them?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"But you can't! It's not right!"

"Perhaps, but it's what I want."

Alfred's shoulders slumped. "I can't believe it. I mean, if it's what you really want, fine. It's not what I would do, and it makes me really angry that those criminals are going to get away with something like this... still, I can't force you to do something you don't wanna do."

I looked at the ground, unsure of myself. "Was that all you came here for?"

"No, you invited me to join you in the library sometime, remember? I'm taking you up on that offer. Call me old-fashioned, but I don't have a phone, so this was my only way of finding you. I also, um, want to tell you something," Alfred admitted.

I shrugged. I was too tired and flustered to argue. A seat sounded nice. "All right, I don't see why not."

We sat at a study table, across from one another. Alfred had to pull out his chair as his legs were too long to fit underneath. He kept fidgeting, with both his hands and his feet. The way he clicked his ankle was annoying, but I didn't have the heart to tell him to stop. He was pushing himself out of his comfort zone, for me. He was reaching out – who was I to discourage him from doing so with some useless, petty comment?

After some time, Alfred looked up, smiling out of nervousness. "What you said earlier really bothered me, ya know that? You shouldn't have to feel ashamed of yourself. Do you think I'm repulsive?"

"Of course I don't think you're repulsive!" I snapped. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Alfred gave me a blank stare. "I could say the same thing to you. Don't you get it? No one should ever say such horrible things about themselves because once you say it, you really believe it, and it's not true, okay?!" he breathed deeply, calming himself.

"Let me rephrase myself, dude," Alfred continued. "Would you call me repulsive if you knew that I liked guys too?"

"Y-you do?" I asked, lips trembling. My ears buzzed, unable to process this information.

"Yes, I do. Gals as well. Now answer my question."

"I don't have to rephrase anything," I answered. "I've never thought of you as repulsive. I judge people by character. You haven't given me a reason to think that, so no, I don't find you repulsive."

"Why can't you apply that same logic to yourself then? If you call yourself repulsive for being gay, or at least liking boys, then I want you to look me in the eye and call me repulsive too. Go on, do it."

"I…can't."

"Why not? Do it! If it's so easy to say it to yourself, then say it to me!"

"I don't want to!"

"Why?"

"Because I don't want anyone to ever have to experience what I have!" I croaked.

"Then why beat yourself up, Arthur? Don't become another bully, to yourself nonetheless. I'm not going to lie and tell you that this world and that you yourself are perfect. But that doesn't give you a reason to hate everything either! You're not repulsive, it's how you think that's repulsive! Don't become like those bigots! It'll only make them win!"

I raked a shaky hand through my hair, fisting it. "I-I…don't think you're repulsive."

"I know, but you need to know that you're not either," Alfred said softly, cerulean eyes possessing an indescribable wisdom to them.

"Damn it," I sniffed, wiping at my eyes before tears could spill. "I know I'm not repulsive, but I can't help but believe it sometimes."

"Love and being yourself is never repulsive, as long as it doesn't harm others. My Ma and Pops didn't understand that, but my, ah, sis does. I grew up in the South. My family, they're really religious. For so long, I had to hide who I was. I had crushes on both boys and girls, but could only date girls. At least, not in public. What I'm trying to say is that it's not worth hating what you can't change. There'll always be support, and there'll sometimes be backlash. It doesn't mean you have to accept it or that it's right. Society sucks, but it doesn't mean you have to believe that you suck too. Gosh, that sounded really dirty," he finished, smiling nervously.

"That must have been tough. I can't even bear to imagine it," I whispered.

"Yeah, well, I didn't live there all the time. My twin, Amelia – I think I told you about her – anyways, Amy and I went to boarding school in New York. We grew up in a pretty progressive area. It was there that I found out more about myself. I met a guy…"

Alfred's eyes widened in pain. I didn't know whether to stop him or let him continue.

I resorted to the latter in fear of scaring Alfred away.

"We really, really liked each other. It's just hard when you're forced to be afraid of loving someone. It really got to me. When I close my eyes I can still imagine how pretty his eyes were, a rare, indescribable violet. He was always so worried about what other people thought... he stood me up because of the rumours going around about us. Afterwards, all I could do was blame and hate myself.

"It's not worth it, Arthur. It really isn't. I learned that the hard way. Either way, I still had that experience, horrible as it was. But you know what? At least I got to do what I wanted to without having what others thought about us hold me back."

"I'm so sorry," I said hesitantly.

"Don't be. The point I'm trying to get across is that it's pointless to regret things, especially something unchangeable like your sexuality. Heck, if I don't know how hard it can get at times. I've only ever wanted things to get better. Moving here, it was a fresh start, even if I had to leave my only support system behind. But now I have you, huh? So how about you start seeing yourself like I do: a normal guy who's too hard on himself."

I nodded. "This was…too sweet for words, Alfred. You didn't have to tell me all that, but I appreciate it. You're right, about everything. And yes, you have me now. I consider you as my friend."

"No, no I did. I didn't just want to tell you this, I had to," Alfred said, taking off his glasses. I let out a sharp intake of breath when I saw that he was crying. "Back then, I grew tired of hating myself, for thinking that I would never be happy. Seeing you feel the same way now, it just breaks my heart. No one deserves this. You can't help it, all right? Things may never turn out in your favor, but don't you ever give up. You will find that someone who will accept you for you, it just may take some time. But once you do find that someone, the rest of the world don't matter after that."

"Crap," he whimpered. "I was the one supposed to be cheering you up. Some friend I am. I wanted to make you feel better."

"Hey," I chided, reaching into my pocket to pull out a wad of tissues. "You sound like you've had it much worse than I have. And don't be silly, you did make me feel better. It's reassuring that we have so much in common, truly it is. Please, don't cry. We both can't be messes, now can we?"

I reached over to hand Alfred a tissue, backing away slightly as he looked uncomfortable with getting so close. He accepted the tissue gratefully, blowing the tip of his nose, which was now quite red.

"I can't promise you that I won't think like this, but what I can guarantee is that I'll try not to. Like I've told you before, it'll take time to re-wire years of negativity. Now come on, smile for me," I felt my heart skip a beat. Where was this coming from?

"You cheered me up, now it's my turn. Where's that dopey, grinning smile, you yank? The smile that can brighten just about anything? How about this, I'll go get us some hot chocolate from the staff room, and when I come back, we can do our work together? You know I won't talk, so you don't have to worry about me messing up your writing mojo."

Alfred looked up at me, incredulous before a wisp of a grin began to creep onto his face. "That sounds awesome! I would love that. Thanks man, you're the best!"

"I should be thanking you," I corrected. It was almost adorable how excited he was. Who knows how long it's been since he's been able to share a moment like this. To me it was just a warm drink, but to Alfred, it was a chance to enjoy himself with someone who accepted his quirks, someone he felt he could be himself with.

We were both overcompensating, trying to make the other feel better…

We both knew what it felt like to be unhappy with ourselves.

Just as I was about to leave, Alfred surprised me once again in a brief, but still ever meaningful display of braveness. It was a simple gesture, but to him, it meant so much more than that.

"Arthur, I never got to introduce myself properly. I-I think I would like to do that now," he flushed, cheeks pink.

"What?"

Alfred held out his hand. "Don't make this awkward, dude. I want to shake hands with you."

"Oh…" My stomach flopped. "Yes, yes, of course. Are you… are you sure you want to though?"

"Yeah man. I trust you completely."

"Very well. Nice to meet you, Alfred Jones," I reached out for Alfred's hand, slowly, waiting for him to grab my hand first.

In reciprocation, Alfred reached over the table, shaking slightly. With a determined huff, he clasped his tanned hand around mine, swallowing it. His hands were that of a bear's, or, at least pretty close to it.

"The pleasure's all mine, Kirkland," Alfred grinned, revealing a heart-warming smile that showed off all his teeth. I had to look away in fear of getting both blinded and embarrassed. He had a way of looking at someone that just made them feel so special. What did I ever do to deserve such a beautiful expression from him?

Alfred gave my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, breathing out with a shudder. "Wasn't so bad."

I gave him a blank stare.

"I'm talking about my shyness!"

"I know," I mused. "It's just fun to get you worked up."

"Hey!"

I stood up and turned my back on him, grinning the entire trip down to the staff room on the first floor.

When I came back, Alfred and I sipped our warm beverages in a comfortable silence. He wrote down ideas in his notebook, tongue wagging out as he did, and I picked out a random book to read.

Occasionally, he would look up at me and grin like a total goofball. Still, it was hard not to smile back. When he was in a good mood, it was contagious. He radiated, a glow of comfortability surrounding him, protecting him.

I too would find myself staring at him, only to look away when we established eye contact. It was thrilling, watching the way how he pouted his lips in thought, long lashes feathering his strong cheekbones.

He was beautiful.

I was beginning to fall in love with Alfred Jones. Too bad I absolutely couldn't let that happen.

…

The next day

…

I was attending a Creative Writing lecture, or, what remained of it. Prof. Braginski was going through the syllabus again to explain a specific assignment due at the end of the month. However, he couldn't get through one sentence without being interrupted by loud bangs from either the auditorium's ceiling or the walls.

Prof. Braginski cleared his throat, trying not to look frazzled as he adjusted the white scarf wrapped around his neck. The man was in his mid- fifties, a hulking giant with pale blond hair, indigo-almost-purple eyes, and a strong nose.

"Ahem, as I was saying, you will all have a 20,000 word one-shot due at the end of each month. This month's theme is something that inspires you. Whether it be friends, family or the heavily-used cliché theme of love–"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Lovino, Gilbert, and Antonio jumped slightly, sitting to my right, as did the rest of the class save for Francis and myself. Unfortunately, the Frog realized that night classes weren't ideal if he wanted to go out with his friends, and ended up changing most of his classes to conveniently fit the same schedule as mine.

Prof. Braginski paused, waiting to see if there would be any other noise disruptions before continuing. The class was silent, unnerved by the persistent bangs echoing across the amphitheatre. Fifteen minutes passed since the lecture had first started, and yet, hardly anything had been discussed.

Francis – who was sitting by my left – and I exchanged wary looks as the professor began to appear more and more distressed. Rumour has it that he was an extreme introvert and didn't like staying at this university for long, despite having received an education here. Something traumatic happened here to him many years ago, and he only taught out of politeness, going against his wishes.

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked, a faint ringing sound bristling at the tips of my ears.

Something wasn't right. My stomach flopped with inexplicable feelings of anxiety, dread, and hurt. They seeped into my entire being, doing everything to make my mood miserable. Immediately, I recognized that this was all a spirit's doing.

Francis must have noticed this too because he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, rubbing his forehead frequently. Channelling these emotions was a common symptom for spiritual communicators. In fact, I could already feel the beginnings of a migraine form in my own head.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Prof. Braginski inhaled deeply, rustling the papers in front of him out of nervous habit. "Perhaps there is the construction going on? Leaky piping?" he proposed, slipping into broken English, his voice in an even thicker Russian accent than before.

"How can it be construction or leaky piping if the whole building is shaking?" Gilbert bent over to whisper to Antonio. "It feels like the entire roof is going to cave. And, I don't know about you, but I didn't see any cranes on my way here. Damn, I bet you anything this building is old enough to collapse on us at any given moment. Eh, at least I won't have exams to worry about," he teased nervously, using jokes to compensate for his own unease.

Antonio's eyes widened, just about breaking into tears. Lovino turned sharply and began to hiss at Gilbert for upsetting Antonio.

Another ten minutes passed before Prof. Braginski ended the class early, instructing us to check our emails tonight, as we would likely be changing lecture locations – again.

None of the students complained, eager to get out of class early. Meanwhile, Francis and I stayed back in solidarity, stiff in our seats.

Gilbert stood up, looping his backpack over his right shoulder. "Man, this is so awesome! Maybe if we're lucky, he'll cancel the whole class altogether. Free credits, am I right?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, taking a large chug from his coffee, needing the caffeine to be able to cope with the idiocy around him. "The amount of optimism in that statement is hopeless. Of course he's not going to cancel the class, you knuckle head."

Gilbert pouted.

Lovino faltered, nudging a frozen Antonio's shoulder like a prying mother. "Up you go, bastard. Class is over, didn't you hear?"

Numbly, Antonio stood on the promise that Gilbert and Lovino would take him to their favourite study room. Secretly, they all knew the campus was haunted, but didn't want to make the idea seem real. And so, the thought of ghosts haunting the classroom went largely unacknowledged.

Antonio, Gilbert, and Lovino began to pile down the aisles, only to turn back when they realized that Francis and I hadn't left our seats.

"Fran, aren't you coming?" Gilbert asked. He didn't bother to ask me. The four of them had no idea where I disappeared to after class, only knowing that I preferred being alone when I studied.

"Non, I'm going to stay here."

"With Arthur?" Antonio cocked his head to the side, incredulous.

"Oui, with Arthur. We, ah, both have a love for investigating things, isn't that right Arthur?" Francis mused, lightly elbowing me in the rib-cage.

It took a lot of willpower not to punch him in the throat. "Yes, that's right," I played along with the lie. "We're going to try and figure out the source of the noise. I'm sure there's a rational explanation for them. Honestly, you people always over-react and come to the most ridiculous conclusions."

Gilbert shrugged, adamant on leaving the classroom. He was still spooked by the wardrobe incident, even if I had ruled it off as something non-paranormally related. "Suit yourselves, weirdos. If you get murdered by Bloody Mary, Toni and I call dibs on your room. It's bigger."

"But of course. If that happens, I'll be expecting you three to plan my funeral and bury me in great fashion," Francis joked, grinning as the two friends and the other who denied being their friend but actually was left the auditorium.

As soon as we heard the front doors shut with a thud, we stood up from our seats and piled down to the podium at the front of the room.

I began to pace back and forth, closing my eyes, hoping to get any hints of the spirit residing here. Once again, I got nothing but the same emotions as before.

"A-ha! Got you!" Francis cackled, grabbing my shoulders out of nowhere.

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!" I roared, jumping in fright. The Frog still hadn't learned his lesson from before, that ass.

Francis laughed and bent over to hold his knees, blond curls swinging. "Desole, I just had to. The look of constipation on your face was priceless," he said, straightening his posture. He then wiped a tear from his eye.

I glared at Francis, considering grabbing the meter stick by the front chalk board. There would soon be two ghosts here if he wasn't careful.

"No one asked you to stay back with me," I growled. "If you're going to be a cocky twat, then you may as well leave. I have a full schedule, one that doesn't involve putting up with your constant bullshit."

Acknowledging that he had pushed me too far, Francis raised both hands in surrender. "All right, all right, jokes aside, let's help this spirit. Although, I thought we were having a bonding moment. We both knew we would stay back without having to tell each other. It's adorable, non? How in tune we are with each other?"

"I'll repeat myself again, Frog. Focus, or stop wasting my time."

Francis's shoulders slumped, bored that he couldn't poke fun at me anymore. "Oui, oui, je sais," he muttered.

"Pardon our intrusion," I spoke up, "but, if there is anyone else here in this auditorium, please speak up. We are spiritual communicators and have no other intentions but to help you cross over to the other side. You don't have to be afraid that we can see you. I assure you, we mean no harm."

"What he said," Francis purred. "I can sense much stress and fear from you. Let us make it all go away."

"What are you, a spiritual prostitute?" I snorted. "You sound like you're trying to seduce it into bed."

"Am not!" Francis gasped.

"Are too!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The ceiling shuddered and creaked.

"Hello?" I whispered, a bit frightened from how violent the sound was. "I'm sorry for my friend, truly I am. He's a good guy once you get around his ring of obnoxiousness. I won't argue with you like I do with him, promise."

"You're such a miserable grouch, mon dieu! I'm half convinced you're possessed by a bitter 80 year-old-man," Francis growled, walking up to me, a sneer on his usually languid, dreamy face.

Even though we were the same height, I straightened my shoulders and jabbed an angry index finger at him. "Now you listen here! Just because I'm not letting you waltz right into my life with opened legs, doesn't mean you have to be so immature about it. I told you this from the beginning. I'm an asshole. Stop pointing out the obvious, and let's just get this over with, Christ! Either deal with me or leave! I won't repeat myself again!"

"Ohonhonhon!" Francis cracked up, a pervy expression on his face. "Open legs, huh? What an interesting choice of words."

"It's a saying, you tart. No need to get literal!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Oh look, you made it angry."

"Moi? I did no such thing!"

Francis and I both fell silent when the sound of heavy footsteps pattered against the back of the auditorium. No one was there when we looked over our shoulders, however.

"What in the-?" I spluttered. "I'm starting to think we're dealing with a poltergeist. It's the only explanation. It's likely just messing with us."

I'M SORRY! PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME!

A voice, unmatchable to anything I've ever heard before, screamed in my mind. Judging by Francis's equally petrified and intrigued expression he had heard it too.

"Q-quoi? We're not leaving, we're right here?"

"Idiot, this place isn't being haunted by an active ghost," I concluded, all of the pieces fitting together. "It's a memory. Something here must have triggered it into existence again. The bangs will stop eventually, there's nothing more we can do."

"Ah… I see now." Francis hummed in understanding.

When a person died, fragments of memories often spread and attached themselves to objects or places meaningful to them. Someone here must have triggered the memory by thinking or saying something, likely on accident. I'd give it a couple days before the memory faded away again.

The problem was, despite the lingering memory, I had no idea if the actual spirit had passed on or not. Spirits lived in different planes of existence. Most times, they didn't realize they were dead and lived their lives normally, creating sounds that those alive would consider to be a haunting. This occurrence, however, was just a memory replaying itself. It wasn't the spirit themself.

Just as Francis and I prepared to leave, Gilbert, Antonio, and Lovino poked their heads into the classroom. I deadpanned upon realizing they had been standing outside in the hallway this entire time.

How much did they know?

"So…" Gilbert drawled, stumbling into the auditorium again, red eyes wide in apprehension. "What the hell just happened?" he put ever so eloquently.

Francis and I glanced at each other, not wanting to reveal too much. You never knew how someone would react to this kind of news. It was the bad, ostracizing reactions that prevents us communicators from telling people about our abilities.

Antonio ended it all by bluntly blurting out what the other two were thinking. "You guys can speak to ghosts? Ay! That would make a lot of sense. I knew you saw something in that wardrobe, Arturo!"

"I sure did," I muttered to myself, solemn at the thought.

"Honestly, what the fuck is even happening anymore?" Lovino followed Antonio and Gilbert into the auditorium, still hesitant as the bangs quieted, but didn't exactly stop.

"Oui," Francis stepped in, since it was obvious I wasn't going to say anything. "We are known as spiritual communicators, or mediums to put it more simply. There is no reason to worry. There are no spirits in this room."

"Ja, we heard. You said something about a memory. Anyway, I'm freaked the shit out, but also strangely excited?" Gilbert grinned. "Why did you bozos hide this from us? You're like real life ghostbusters!"

"Because normally when you tell someone this, they get weirded out," I countetred.

"Everyone here is strange, I honestly don't give a fuck about who or what you are so long as you're not an asshole. What just happened is enough evidence in itself, so you don't have to worry about us not believing you either," Lovino sighed, looking done with life. Same.

"Like Lovi said, you were already weird to begin with," Antonio smiled obliviously. "Honestly, we would have accepted you two either way. Now I feel even safer knowing that you guys won't let any scary demons possess us. My parents didn't want me coming here because of the rumours of it being haunted! They can sleep sound now!"

Lovino smacked the back of Antonio's head. "Idiota! What did I say about being rude to people in person?"

Antonio whined.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was still ogling at us 'mediums' like a child. "Hey, Fran? Do you think you could get in touch with my Gramps? He had a bunch of funds in the bank, but no one can access them because there's a shit ton of security locks. Can you? Huh? Huh? Oh gott, please man. I've been wanting to buy a new car for so long now, but that stingy old fart's accounts aren't supposed to open up for another year. I'm dying here!"

Gilbert's poor choice of words completely triumphed over mine.

"Imbeciles," I shook my head, shoving past Antonio to leave the auditorium.

"Where are you going?" Francis reprimanded, pausing his mini morality lecture with Gilbert. "We still have much to explain."

"I don't have to explain shit!" I called over my shoulder. "I've experienced enough stupidity for an entire week. I need time to recover the brain cells I lost."

The clack of Lovino's dress shoes were quick to catch up with me. "Agreed. Oi, let's get some coffee, my treat?" he offered.

"Sure, why the hell not?"

Before Antonio could join us, Lovino rudely shut the auditorium's door in front of the Spaniard's face.

I couldn't help but laugh.

…

Jittery and anxious already, the coffee I had with Lovino offered no aid in calming my nerves.

As always, after class I found myself in the library, sitting at the front desk even though I wasn't on shift. I was flipping through the cameras again, going over last night's footage. The ghost always came to snatch the food when I wasn't around – it was infuriating.

Matthew, still caught in my lie, found it funny how I was trying to find a rational explanation for the food's disappearance.

"Still scanning the footage, huh?" Matthew mused as he entered the library. He shook his head, soft curls falling out of his eyes as he draped a casual arm over the front desk. "You're so predictable, Arthur."

"I can't help it," I responded. "I'm a very routine-orientated person."

"I can tell," Matthew smirked. "So, come up with or find anything?"

"No, nothing at all," I groaned.

"I'm telling you, this library is the most haunted place on campus. For decades, my family has dedicated themselves to taking care of it. Are you really just going to discard everything they've seen with their own two eyes? Or how about me? I've seen things move without anyone touching them."

I rubbed my temple. "It's all either bollocks or hearsay. I'll believe you when I see it myself. Although," I paused, contemplating my next few words carefully. "I checked the records. It really is unbelievable how many students have committed suicide on the rooftop here. I didn't know this school used to double as a boarding school for high school students either. The information was so well-hidden. It's like the Deans went out of their way to hide it."

Matthew's eyes became sad. "You didn't know that? And yes, very true. The high suicide rate was a huge reason why my grandmother starting hosting a homework club here, actually."

I furrowed my brows in confusion. I remembered him mentioning something about losing a relative in a tragedy like this, but I was having a hard time connecting the dots.

"Oh," Matthew smiled sheepishly. "That relative of mine, they went to the boarding school, but that's completely unrelated. Basically, the club was founded to prevent more suicides; there hasn't been one here since, so I think it's safe to say that it's been really successful in its objective. The homework club offers a safe place for struggling students to come together and make friends. We help each other out and just talk, you know? You're always welcome to join too if you want. I'm sure you've seen the posters. We meet on Fridays here on the first floor."

"That's a wonderful idea," I admitted. "No one wonder it's done so well. But, I'm afraid this is the first I'm hearing from it."

Matthew looked disappointed; he had a talent for living under the radar. "Well, it does have its drawbacks," Matthew sighed. "Recently, I've been tutoring this German guy. His writing is decent, but he still refuses to accept that he can't use the word awesome every two sentences."

"I know someone very similar," I bitterly remarked. "Writers who can't accept criticism just aren't cut out for the field I suppose."

"Eh, I'll get through to him eventually. He's actually a pretty good guy once you brush past his ego."

"Best of luck to you then," I smiled faintly, standing up from my seat.

"Going to the rooftop… again?" Matthew asked, somewhat pensive.

"Yes," I flushed at the reminder. Alfred was my friend, nothing else. I could still enjoy spending time with him.

"There's a wonderful pair of benches and the scenery helps my muse. I always come up with the best writing ideas there. Besides, I'm not the only one who thinks that way. I have a friend I usually sit and chat with," I rambled, overcompensating with my explanation because of the strange look Matthew was giving me.

"That's good, I guess," Matthew shrugged. "It's just a bit odd, considering…"

'Yes, yes, I know," I filled in for him. "It has a depressing history and what not. Still, that shouldn't stop other people from enjoying it."

Matthew smiled. "You're right. Sorry if I seemed judgemental there. I didn't intend to be."

I laughed. "I've experienced far more judgemental things in my life, lad. No worries."

I left the front desk. "See you later," I said, waving over my shoulder with my knapsack haphazardly draped over my left shoulder.

"Take care," Matthew replied back.

When Arthur was out of sight, Matthew pursed his lips, watching the stiff posture of the Brit with narrowed eyes.

"He's definitely hiding something from me," the Canadian whispered to himself. "…I just hope he's okay."

To be continued...

#hetalia #fanfiction #aph America #aph England #USUK #romance #alfred f jones #arthur Kirkland #human AU.#PLEASE remember to review

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spiteandalice · 8 years ago

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Judas Touch Pt 3

Alright. This is a bit on the shorter side but it’s mostly angry smut so maybe that makes up for it?

As per request :3 @beautifulramblingbrains and @beltz2016

PART ONE PART TWO

Warning: contains language, violence, smut and… violent smut

It’s astonishing how the initiates behave like blind monkeys in a ball pit during training but seem to be able to do just fine when they get into a fight while unsupervised. Two boys, Erudite and Candor, are busy reconstructing their faces when we walk in and for once Eric has to shove his way through the crowd instead of watching it part for him. Nobody really breaks up fights here unless it’s getting too close to losing a member over a cup of chocolate pudding, but these aren’t members, they’re initiates. There is no emotional attachment whatsoever and the morbid curiosity we all have has time to shine. Humans are extremely fucked up, if you think about it, I had months to reflect on that.

I grab the Erudite by the hair and yank his head down while simultaneously kicking the legs out from under him so I can straddle his back, pinning his arms down with my knees. Thanks to the shock of someone actually knowing how to hurt him he doesn’t put up much of a fight, even after he is pinned and had time to process what I did to him. It gives me plenty of time to watch Eric handle the Candor, who is so in the zone that he’s trying to take on a Dauntless leader. Again, we seem to get not only the brave but also the reckless and that usually equals stupidity. Eric sighs, dodges a sloppy punch with barely any effort and draws his fist back to knock the guy out with a punch to the face. And he didn’t even put much weight behind the movement, which in turn doesn’t help the fact that I am still soaking wet. Moments like this fascinate me because he is always so calm and controlled but if you look closely you can see the turmoil behind his eyes. Not just controlled anger, which is a beautiful sight to behold all on it’s own. He would have been a perfect Erudite and sometimes I do wonder how he ended up here, in spite of the obvious embodiment of what Dauntless now stands for. And why that Matthews woman was so interested in him. Still is.

Maybe I’ll ask him one day.

After I’m done beating the shit out of him for leaving it up to me to figure out why the hell those two were fighting, he has to go visit his old faction and cozy up to their leader. During my time as ambassador I only had two official visits to the brainy faction, both things Eric couldn’t be bothered with. The other times he took care of matters and I have to say that I wasn’t really eager to deal with that woman - she doesn’t like me, and the dislike is mutual. She once alluded to me being a possible distraction for him and she does not appreciate any kinks in her well manicured plans. I laughed at her and left, because there is absolutely nothing on this forsaken planet that can stop Eric once he is set in motion. It’s one of the things I admire about him.

“So,” I spit, walking in front of the Candor with my hands folded behind my back, which seems to be an automatic leader gesture, “care to enlighten me why you thought it would be a good idea to try and murder your fellow initiate? A very pathetic attempt, may I add, but one nonetheless.”

The Candor is still beyond pissed, which is why I decided to interrogate him first, while the anger is still fresh. Once he had time to cool down and the anger turned sour he’ll just turn into a sarcastic little shit and I really don’t feel like slapping him around much today. I’m saving that for Eric.

“He was talking shit about my sister,” he growls and I stop in my tracks, unable to keep myself from shooting him an incredulous look. What exactly is it about faction before blood that these morons don’t understand? Every damn year someone is howling about their damn family like they’re all special little babies that don’t actually have to listen to a single damn thing we have been telling them and it drives me insane. This faction is far from perfect but if these inbred degenerates come in and refuse to even try we might as well throw in the towel and pick up a nice little retirement hobby. Maybe Eric can crochet or do a little bit of woodwork. I know he’d tell me he has some wood for me to work on because all men are secretly twelve.

But back to the task at hand. I chew the guy out for his transgressions and leave him to the kitchen staff for some serious cleaning duties, I know that the place needs it badly. The Erudite fucktard can go clean toilets across the compound and that leaves me facing a wall of reports when I get back to my office. I could swear I heard Max giggle through the door of his office. He’s dead.

It’s way past ten and I’m in the middle of a little cardio on the living room floor when I hear the door. I’m not even bothering to acknowledge his presence because I’m still pissed, but if there’s something Eric hates it’s being ignored. Or disrespected. Or losing. Or people who lack ambition. Meatloaf Fridays. The list could go on and on.

I’m on all fours, pumping my right leg up and down in spite of the way my body screams at me. Pain can go suck it, I will win this. A different kind of pain digs into my hips and pulls me back against him, which is his way of demanding my undivided attention. I snarl and kick his thigh, which should hurt even though I’m barefoot. With a grunt his grip on my hips tightens and he lifts me up to turn me over, which I gladly accommodate, my legs wrap around his neck and I squeeze my thighs together, trapping his head. If I thought I had him I’m way too cocky and need a reality check, because he grins wolfishly and nips at me, grazing my clit with his teeth through the thin fabric of my shorts.

Using my abdominal muscles I push my upper body upwards, not my best move because my crotch is now pressed right against his face and Eric lazily trails his tongue over the fabric, causing it to soak through in mere moments which admittedly is not all him. My hands lift to yank at his hair but he knows what I’m up to and grabs my wrists, pinning then to my sides. As far as brute strength goes he is always winning, especially right now, and he knows it. Suddenly the world around me tilts and because I was distracted by his mouth I’m not prepared for my impact on the floor. It stuns me for a few moments while I try to breathe and that’s all it takes for him to shred the shorts that I just bought.

With an angry growl I kick at his chest and send him on his ass, he didn’t exactly go flying but that’ll have to do for now. I pounce after him and twist his shirt collar just to cut off the circulation a little. My other hand reaches under me to find his damn zipper but he decided that I had enough time to enjoy myself and stands up, his arm wrapped around me tightly. Before I can bite at his neck more than once he turns me around and holds me in place by wrapping his arm around my throat, so if I struggle too much I’m cutting off all circulation and I can’t breathe. I still twist and kick, he slips his hands beneath my legs, humming appreciatively at the fact that even my thighs are slick and wet by now.

“How come you get so violent and wet at the same time, hm. Almost as if you’re some sick little bitch that gets off on it.”

Eric runs a wet finger over my lips, spreading my own juices across my mouth. I growl and bite his finger, hard, and he chuckles but I can feel his cock twitch where it’s pressed against my ass.

“Takes one to know one,” I grind out between gritted teeth, I’m angry because he so easily pins me, even though I know it’s due to my injuries, lack of training and malnutrition. He seems to really enjoy himself though, I suspect there aren’t that many women who can keep up with him even if they want to. I hear the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor and it sends a shiver of pleasure through me. That belt has played quite the role in our relationship so far…

My moment comes when he pulls off his shirt, his grip on me loosens enough for me to twist around and jab him in the ribs. Using my full weight I push him down and he hisses when he tumbles backwards and pulls me with him so I’m straddling his lap. One quick snap of both our hips, perfectly synchronized, and he’s inside me. It’s almost eerie, sometimes, to see how we seem to think the same things, at the same time and then act the same way. It’s probably where the secret twin rumor comes from.

Not willing to give in to him so easily I bury my hand in his hair and yank, wanting to expose his throat to my teeth, but before I can lean forward his hand wraps around my throat and he squeezes. We stare each other down, I’m pulling, he’s squeezing and I rock my hips against his in a frantic rhythm, knowing that the release I’m looking for will be just as violent as this is right now. And oh so satisfying.

My muscles tighten around him and Eric hisses, his grip around my throat slipping slightly. It’s those little moments where his control slips that I’m looking for, that I absolutely fucking live for, because I know that he hates it when it happens. And maybe, just maybe, I’m arrogant enough to firmly believe that I’m the only one that’s capable of doing this to him.

We’re both slick with sweat and my skin slides against his, I let the nails of my free hand rake down his throat since he won’t let me bite him. His hand tightens again and my vision begins to blur around the edges, just slightly. Eric knows exactly how much pressure to use and when to stop, and I hate to admit it but it’s fucking hot. Just a little more and I gasp, I’m not sure if it’s the lack of air or the orgasm that suddenly slams my body out of this world that is responsible for my temporary loss of vision, but I don’t care at all. I want to scream but I can’t, all that comes out around the pressure of his hand is low and strangled and I’m vaguely aware of my nails digging into his throat. As I come down and my tensed up muscles begin to relax so does his hand around my neck and I take a deep, shuddering breath, moaning again as my lungs fill. I look at him, his eyes never left mine for one second since I slid on his cock and I grin, lifting my hand from his neck to my mouth to suck on every single finger to clean them, I did draw a little blood. Eric shudders and grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my bruised flesh once more. He keeps me down and grinds me against him, once, twice, before he stills and bites down on my shoulder with a guttural sound that makes me smile.

Without a word I get up and gather the tattered remains of my clothes, that I just bought by the way, and head for the bathroom, absolutely intending to lock the door on him. I’m still angry at him for disappearing to Erudite once more and for generally being an asshole, even though I can’t really fault him for the latter without being a complete hypocrite.

“Have you been to the infirmary yet?”

To my credit… I manage not to stop dead in my tracks, I manage to hide my shock fairly well and I keep walking away from him.

“You know that I haven’t, you’re keeping tabs on me. I’m going tomorrow, want to come watch them make sure you can’t knock me up?”

Eric mutters something I can’t understand and I roll my eyes, which he can’t see so it’s purely for my own pleasure. What an idiot. I slam the bathroom door shut behind me and make sure to lock it so he can’t follow me into the shower. Serves him right. I’ll probably pay for it once I get out, but that’s a risk I am more than willing to take.

PART FOUR

#eric divergent #eric divergent fanfiction #jai courtney fanfiction #eric divergent/ofc #eric insurgent fanfiction #eric insurgent #eric insurgent/ofc #judas touch

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naomi-l-tiessen-blog · 8 years ago

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Tips on Staying [Relatively] Sane While Writing

Hellllooooooo Everybody ~

Happy Thursday Blogday!

Let’s face it: we’ve all been there, where at some point or another, writing stops being fun. Writing is our calling; we were born on this cynical planet to tell stories. It’s been written into our DNA, it’s our passion, it’s the reason Why. We. Breathe.

And it’s stopped being fun. In fact, it’s driving us a little batty.

*Le Gasp!!*

Cue the world ending.

Don’t worry. It happens to the best of us. It’s common to fall in and out of love with writing, especially considering we should be treating it like a job, and who doesn’t fall in and out of love with their job? Or, better yet, upgrade and develop a love-hate relationship with it altogether? It’s perfectly normal for your life passion to make you seriously question your sanity. And really, Lord knows it doesn’t matter if that passion is a hobby or a profession; insanity is completely inclusive and knows no boundaries. Honestly, you should watch me play video games; as much as I love them, I’m generally a mess when I play.

I know we all like to think that we are tough as nails and have nerves of steel, but the truth of the matter is this: we are human. We are fragile sometimes. And sometimes, SOMETIMES, our mental game isn’t exactly top notch. And while this might not seem like a big deal, not being 100% in the mental health department can lead to other things, like other health issues, insomnia, poor eating habits, increased hermitage, poor writing, or worse, NO writing.

Ok, NOW cue the world ending.

So, before you toss in the towel and seriously consider a new passion, let me settle your worried soul and offer 10 tips on how to salvage the last bits of your already fragile mental psyche. Some of these may work for you, and some of them may not. Some of them won’t be very nice to hear (you’ve been warned; the faint of heart should avert ye eyes), but are important nonetheless.

Without further ado, 10 tips on how to stay [relatively] sane while writing:

1) Take a break. This one is important, guys. When was the last time you got up, stretched, and focused on something besides your computer screen? Sometimes when we are so focused on our work, we forget that we have a body…a human body…and those things have needs! We ignore the signs our bodies are throwing at us, like muscle aches, eye strain, hunger pains, headaches, and full bladders. Trust me, your work isn’t going anywhere. You can afford a 5-minute pee break. It’ll all be there when you get back. And if it isn’t…well…I blame the wizards.

2) Make a schedule for yourself. Set alarms to remind yourself to take breaks, to eat, to do something that isn’t writing-oriented. Maybe instead of saying, “I will write today!” start with smaller, less vague goals. “I will write 500 words, take a 10-minute break, and then write another 500 words.” This goal is a lot more specific, is well-structured, has a beginning and end, and is easily attainable! Make it a habit to start each writing session with a routine so you know which direction you are heading in; going head-first into a session without an end-goal often leads to procrastination, frustration, and disappointment.

3) Switch it up. If the routine you are currently stuck in feels more like a rut than anything, perhaps it’s time to develop a new ritual. Try something different. Leave the house. Listen to a different playlist. Play around with a couple writing exercises to get the ideas flowing. Write in a group if you normally hermit it up (and vice versa, if you are on the more social side). Pick apart your routine and see what is working, and what isn’t. It’s amazing to see the sorts of things that might be helping alleviate your stress, and what might be exacerbating it.

4) Reward yourself. When you meet a goal, celebrate! Eat that candy, take a breather to watch that movie, go to the bookstore and buy that book you’ve been eyeing up. Allowing yourself those little treats is a great way to lighten the mood, offer momentary distraction, and reinforce further positive behavior. Think of it like this. If you are training your puppy to go to the front door when it needs to pee, you are going to offer positive feedback when it does the task you want it to do. Your puppy is then going to associate doing the right thing with something good (ie: praise, cuddles, and/or treats). The same thing goes for you (except, for the love of God, I hope you’re potty trained). When you set goals for yourself, reach them, and reward yourself accordingly, your brain is going to start associating positive experiences with hard word and hitting goals. This helps you focus less on stress and more on how well you are doing, or how much work you’re getting done. It’s all about perspective, you see. Positive reinforcement is key to a healthy you and a healthy me!

5) Accept defeat. Ok, I KNOW this is like a punch in the throat, and I’m not trying to be Negative Nelly over here, but this is an honest-to-goodness tip, Scouts Honor. When I say, “accept defeat,” I’m not saying toss all your hard work away the moment you hit a wall and all the rainbows and butterflies are gone. I’m saying that if you’ve been struggling with your novel baby for a solid chunk of time (I’m talking months-years here), you’ve lost your passion for it, and you are generally experiencing more anger than joy when it comes to sitting down at your computer and opening up your work, then you might want to consider either 1) setting that WIP aside and focusing on something else, or 2) getting rid of that WIP altogether. Now, keep in mind that this is only for absolutely dire, worst-case-scenario ordeals. But sometimes, it’s good to know when to call a spade a spade and to call it quits. I highly recommend putting a lot of thought into this, as well as making the decision with a clear, objective mind. Because, let’s face it, this is a huge deal, and letting your emotions get in the way might not be the best idea. But sometimes, you’d be amazed at how much lighter you feel after agreeing to drop a story. I’ve done it before, and as sad as it is to say goodbye, the lack of mental stress, guilt, and burden was enough to convince me that I made the right choice.

6) Get support/have a soundboard. A good vent session is a beautiful thing. And it’s even better when it’s not with your fur baby. For me, besides the raging headache I get, I often feel 10x lighter, more energetic, and more balanced after a good sob-fest/yelling session. While the soundboard can essentially be anyone, it helps if they have a writer’s brain like you; they know the struggles you are going through inside and out, and can offer constructive feedback and advice that doesn’t make you want to start throwing out punches like a kung-fu master. But the most important thing is knowing you aren’t alone in these problems. People have gone through EXACTLY what you are going through. They’ve been on the verge of snapping a time or two as well; what you are experiencing is not special, nor is it exclusive to solely you. People are suffering together! Hooray!

7) Journal your progress. Now, I know that sometimes journaling is the last thing people want to do, especially if writing is what they are already doing all day, not to mention if it is writing that is causing them such mental strain. But I find that if I journal my progress, even if it’s a couple sentences here and there, it helps me debrief and vent. This tip is especially handy if you don’t have the best support systems in place, or a soundboard to fall back on. Besides, sometimes we just need to rage-write our hearts out without fear of getting judged, interrupted, and overwhelmed with awful advice. Just as well, I find that journaling also helps me remain focused and on track. I can see how far I’ve come, how much I’ve grown, and I’m reminded that I’m a lot stronger now than I was before. It’s very grounding.

8) Listen to music. Some people prefer to write in silence, and that’s totally fine! However, unless I’m really in The Zone, I find that my thoughts go way faster than my fingers, and in the end, I get too stressed to even function. My subconscious gets the better of me, and in the end, my work, and my mental health, suffers because of it. Therefore, often I turn to music to help keep my mind chatter to a minimum, and to keep my focus sharp. Music is awesome that way; there is a unique type for every sort of mood you are feeling. If you need something relaxing, there’s a playlist for that. If you need hardcore screamo, there’s a playlist for that. If you need orchestral, or lyrical, or dubstep, or chillstep, there is a freaking playlist for that. Music is incredibly influential, and often I find that my mood mirrors whatever I’m listening to. Using music to impact and manipulate your writing is a great way to push past blocks, fears, and crippling doubt. Need a confidence booster? I’ll bet there’s a playlist for that.

9) EAT. Seriously. When was the last time you fed your body? And no, I don’t mean with ichiban noodles, nutrigrain bars, and candy. When was the last time you put ACTUAL food into your belly? AKA protein, nutrients, healthy sugars, and non-lethal doses of sodium? When was the last time you drank something besides coffee and energy drinks? If you honestly can’t remember, stop reading this blog, go and grab a cup of water, and don’t sit back down till you drank it all. I mean it.

10) You are going to hate me for this, but exercise. Notice how I left this as the last tip…because it is honestly the last damn resort, the “worst case scenario”, the Plan Z. I’m not a fan of exercise on the best of days, but sometimes, if you are hitting that writer’s block for the umpteenth time, and the end is nowhere in sight, and your frustration is building so high up that it’s about to cave in on itself, then maybe stepping away from the danger zone and getting fresh air IS actually a good idea. Stop breathing in recycled air, and go out to where the elements are not man-made. Get the blood flowing, the heart pumping, and blast that music so loud that thinking about your book is next to impossible. Give your brain a moment to think about something else. Trust me, it’s not cheating to place your attention elsewhere for a couple seconds.

And there you have it! 10 tips to help you not rip out your hair and ram pencils into your eyeballs. Like I said before, not all these will work for you, nor should they (don’t forget, #5 is only in absolutely dire circumstances). During your writing hours, take time to introduce a couple of these into your schedule, and practice them till you find a groove that works well for you. I know your life is already busy, but trust me, your psyche will thank you in the long run!

With that said, I post new blogs (and vlogs, apparently) every Thursday, and if there is anything you’d like me to discuss, feel free to message me on here, or tweet me @ScarletteStone

Until next time,

Happy Writing!

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