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uglypastels · 1 year ago

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Not Wholly Evil |IV| pirate!eddie

a/n so sorry for the long wait. Let this be a celebration of the beginning of summer :) and lets hope for many fics to come (i cant make any promises tho) I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! Please remember to support by reblogging and leaving comments on what you think of the story <3

Series Masterlist

word count: 7.5k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. religious (Christian) references.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 4: Columba

A philosopher once asked, "Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?" Pointless, really..."Do the stars gaze back?" Now, that's a question. ― Neil Gaiman, Stardust

‘We’re… lost?’ You stared blankly ahead.

‘I’ll admit, lost is a strong word, princess— Misdirected feels more accurate. Sailing off-course.’

You stammered for a response to the confession you just heard. ‘How– How could we be off-course?’ The captain’s words had not fully come through to you yet, perhaps by his casual stance and lack of urgency for a solution or panic. He stood there, arms behind his back, studying his map like one of the painting hanging on the Queen’s wall. And yet, according to this man, you were heading into uncharted waters. You have been heading towards them for God knows how long.

‘It is quite simple. Here–’ he was still analysing the markings on the wall as he spoke, and he must have wanted you to step closer, for he looked at you expectedly. Something around his mouth twitched when he looked your way. The eye contact was piercing both ways with so much said between the two of you, and yet not a single word had been exchanged. With two ringed fingers, he pulled an invisible string that he hoped would have some effect on you.

It did not.

All you did was raise a brow in your expectation, ready to see what the captain would do now. Arms crossed, you remained in your place.

‘Do not make me come over there, princess.’

‘Do not make me come over there, Munson.’ The words were bitter but tasted sweet, like honey on your lips. If you had blinked, and as luck would have it, you did not, you would have missed the captain’s reaction; a deep breath in as he hollowed out his cheeks, pushing back any clearer indications of frustrations or signs of weaknesses. The patience ran out of his dark eyes. Then, with a stretch of his neck, he returned to his first problem as if the short interaction between you had never occurred. He sounded entirely unphased as he, despite your distance, went to explain the conundrum. ‘Several days ago, the Hellfire stumbled upon a certain ship,’ he tapped one of his fingers on a small mark south of the map. It then dawned on you that, by surrendering to your stubbornness, he had won the bigger battle. Your curiosity was gaining on you, and from where you stood, you could not put much more meaning to his words, as the islands around it were unfamiliar. He knew this and could tell you were frustrated with yourself, but you were too stubborn to walk up and look at what he was showing you… yet where you stood now was no good either. The captain continued explaining as if you were right by his side, not addressing anything else of the situation. ‘Tonight, we were meant to have only been a week’s travel away from our destination–’ your home. This shocked you, for before, you had no indication of how much longer it would take—a week. What was supposed to have been a week is now an undetermined eternity as the ship sailed on.

The mention of your home hit you at the deepest level, overshadowing any other emotions you felt. Any stubbornness was pushed aside for anger as you crossed the room.

Nothing was exchanged as you moved past the desk towards the captain. He did not look your way, but the grin on his face was undeniable. You could still feel it when he brought you closer to him with a quick pull, shaking you around practically like a rag-doll. You now stood between him and the map, his shoulder against your back. His breath on your neck. His muscles brushed over you as he moved his arm to point out the locations on the map. The flash of heat coming over you could not have been anything but the anger you felt at yourself for letting this happen.

‘To sum up, we met here, darling,’ he reached to tap the map again at a southern point, bringing himself closer to you with the excuse to reach the chart. His chin practically leaned on your shoulder, and his hot breath became overbearing to all your senses. All you could focus on were the rings that adorned his fingers in front of you—one of the few aspects of him you could always trust to remain constant. You watched him move his hand across. ‘—were meant to arrive here—,’ One straight line towards home with a dark, blotted circle on top of it. It made you wonder how long that ink sat upon the canvas. Had he written it once you came aboard, or had he been planning something much longer? Had your abduction been a plan all along? It was hard to imagine but not impossible.

‘And now we’re… well, God knows where we are,’ he chuckled with wicked amusement, and you did not see the humour in being lost at sea. You did, however, see the irony of him speaking of God. He, a Satan’s spawn himself. It is ridiculous to think that he had the gumption to speak the Lord’s name so casually, especially with him being who he is. It simply did not sit right with you.

However, none of your concerns seemed to have drawn his attention as Munson went on: ‘I felt something was wrong as we were supposed to have arrived at Escondrijo last night, a rest stop we often sail past,’ he read out the name of this island right at your skin, the S slithering from his tongue onto you in shivers. ‘I thought maybe my calculations were simply off; the wind, after all, had not been the kindest. Of course, it could have been a delay– but alas.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘What we stumbled across was–’ He slammed his fist into the map, making you jump at the extreme action, ‘Such a useless piece of land no one bothered to give it a name!’ He laughed away his frustrations, which chilled you to the bone. ‘Not even the damned sould that live there.’

Damned. That’s what he was. What all of you were as the ship sailed on.

You tried to take in everything that he had just told you. All the locations he had pointed to. Considering the unknown status of your location, the world must have turned upside down for you to arrive here. The fact the Hellfire had stumbled upon the nameless island must have been dumb chance in itself, and just as quickly as it had made itself shown, it was now becoming nothing more than a memory.

Still, this island could be anywhere on the map, but it must have been close to the planned destination. The climate would have raised suspicions much earlier if it had been otherwise. And that is precisely what you suggested to the captain, hoping that giving him some kind of positive idea would direct him away from the anger he must be feeling. Not to mention, at this moment, you were both in trouble, in danger, and the only way out of it was to help him… as much as you disliked the idea of doing so. It was the only option.

‘Yes, exactly. All my calculations had been perfect. That is why this is all so perplexing.’

You could name several more reasons why the situation was “perplexing”, including one thing you did not yet understand:

‘Why did we even leave the harbour? Why not stay and orient yourself?’ There were people there, other sailors; naturally, someone could have helped track the right direction to sail onward to. Someone there might have had more information. Anything.

And yet, the ship had already set sail into the abyss of the night. You could hear the waves sloshing around you, and when you turned around, the fiery light coming from the island was thinning on the horizon.

‘You overestimate the usefulness of a drunken man. Or the charitability of a passerby in a midnight alley.’ Munson spoke, ‘Or perhaps, you simply underestimate my willingness to find a solution, for that matter. As if I did not try to ask for help—because, whatever you may think of me, I am not ashamed of seeking out outside recourses—’ There was that clicking sound of his tongue that announced nothing but smugness. Next thing you know, his arms had snaked their way down, wrapped around your middle, trapping your arms within his hold. His lips were at your ear, freezing you like a spell. ‘And here I thought you would know me better by now.’

You wished you did too, but the truth was much more brutal. With every moment you spent in the captain’s presence, he only seemed to be becoming more and more of a mystery to you. None of your million questions regarding the notorious Captain Munson had been answered.

With a slow intake of breath, you spoke to him as calmly as possible: ‘Get off of me.’

‘Mmm,’ he hummed, swaying you back and forth, enhancing the ship's movements, ‘I don’t think I want to, princess.’ In reality, it was a loose grip that held no power, authority, or fear over you. All it did was plague you with his touch, scent, and sound; it was all over. You could feel him everywhere. The heat of his body was radiating onto you, boiling you alive.

From this position, you could not see his face. Your peripheral vision only gave you a blurry profile of his features without indicating what he was doing. You both stood there for a long moment, looking at the map as if it would reveal some secret message. Something to magically guide you back on the right path. It was quiet around, with nothing else but the waves outside, the fire of the candles in the room flickering, and two pairs of lungs breathing. Two hearts, beating fast.

His grip loosened, but you did not move. Too scared that any movement would remind him of you. Although, maybe he had not forgotten but simply lost interest, for the captain took a step forward, passing you right by. His eyes were locked in on a spot on the map.

This silence had given you one thing, and it was the time to think. Maybe not clearly—that was barely ever possible with him around—but long enough to devise a train of thought. With that, one more question struck you.

‘Why tell me all of this?’ Was he confessing this all to you because he was not planning on having you stick around for much longer? Airing out a confession to a soul that he had already sentenced, either way, leaving no trace of his mishappening behind? If that was the case, you had to leave this room quickly. Tell someone about all of this…Because what stopped you from going out there and telling everyone that their captain had failed them? Led them to be stranded at sea. This may be what you need. This may get them on your side. Maybe–

‘Oh, it is wonderful how your mind works, princess.’ He turned around on his heels, and his hands found your shoulders, dug in like claws, shaking you lightly. Shaking you straight out of your escapist fantasy. ‘Truly, fascinating.’ The two last words burned with a growl. He chuckled a little bit more before redirecting himself towards his desk. The captain did not bother walking around the desk. Instead, he sat down on it and let his legs swing around, knocking several stacks of parchment onto the floor in the process. He did not even look down at the mess he caused. Instead, he slightly bent back to look down. His eyes shot down, an eyebrow was raised, and then he looked back at you.

‘Nosy, were we, darling?’ There was a metal twinkle that piqued your interest, and you noticed the silver key hanging around his neck. He pulled it off and unlocked the drawer you had been toying with before his arrival.

Had it surprised you that he pulled out a bottle of rum?

Slightly.

But you watched the captain uncork the bottle and take a large sip as he sat on the armrest of his throne. He was sloppy, and the liquid spilt down his chin. He was wiping it off as he extended his other arm towards you, inviting you for a drink. When you did not respond, the captain shrugged, mumbled something about stubbornness, and drank until barely anything was left. He put the bottle on the disorganised desk and roughly wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

He let out a satisfied sigh. ‘Mmm. Now, where was I,’ he tapped his fingers on his thigh, trying to remember the last seconds. Once he did so, he laughed.

‘It is so easy to think that one tiny mistake could cause a man’s respect, but these men—together with me, may I add—have been through a lot. We are a family, sweetheart, and family isn’t so easy to get rid of. No matter how hard or often you try.’ His dark eyes pierced through yours. ‘So, I hope you do not set your hopes on a mutiny too high because that just won’t happen. If my men wanted to get rid of me, they would have done so long ago.

‘I’ve made much bigger mistakes that could have cost me my head, yet…’ he knocked his knuckles on the side of his skull, giving you an almost apologetic expression, indicating that he was still present and accounted for. ‘I’m sure they’re all aware of our little problem by now. Hell, it’s their fault, but I don’t want to vex them with this. They have enough work on their plates.’

‘So?’ You did not see the point of this anymore, not believing that he had no one in his crew that could help him right now. That would have been more helpful than you.

‘So,’ he mocked your inquisitive tone. ‘Out of everyone on board, you’re probably the last that needs a good night sleep–or at least can miss one.’

You wanted to argue with him, call him a monster for depriving you of simple decency such as a night’s rest, but then it dawned on you that he might have actually been right. While the floor gave you no comfort, you had, in a way, the luxury of sleeping as long as, and whenever, you pleased. Meanwhile, the crew got barely any sleep and then had to work most of the day to keep the ship afloat. That was a rationalisation of yet another lost battle, at least.

‘Even if I did want to help you,’ you sighed in defeat, ‘how could I?’ You didn’t know how to steer a ship, let alone guide one back onto a correct route in the middle of the deep waters at night. Munson looked at you, still very much amused, and clearly held back his tongue with a comment on your words. Instead, he answered your question genuinely. Possibly doing so for the first time.

‘It is the middle of the night; the sky is clear,’ he spoke as if this all led to the most obvious of conclusions, ‘why not let the stars guide you?’

‘What makes you think I know how to?’ Did he think you had any experience in this field? ‘Well, I doubt you keep looking up there just because the stars shine oh-so charmingly.’

‘You do not think the night sky to be beautiful?’ You asked curiously. It would explain so much about the captain if he could not appreciate the simple beauty of such things. But, the man threw you in for a loop.

‘I do, but I also know it has many more functions than decor. You must know it too.’

‘I do.’ That was basic enough knowledge that you had picked up on as a young child, but was that it? Just because you were fascinated by the heavens did not mean you had any expert knowledge on the subject. Besides, where would you have even been able to acquire it? ‘And this makes you think I can steer us back on the right path?’

‘Call it intuition.’

‘And on the principles of your intuition, you dare to put your fate in the hands of a…prisoner?’ You had never heard of such a tale for a captain to let his prisoner take the lead on the ship. Giving him their trust.

‘I think we are past such formalities, are we not?’ Were you? He must have read the doubt on your face, for he took the task of explaining: ‘You are no longer locked away; you have the freedom to go anywhere on this ship. I brought you a delicious meal—which I would still like to have received some gratitude for, but that is beside the point—and now I am asking you for your help. Some would say you are going up the ranks quite swiftly, princess.’

‘Funny, I do not recall you asking for my help at all? Just being locked away in a room for hours and given no choice but to do as you say.’

‘The pirate life!’ Munson spread his arms wide, slipping down into the seat of his thrown. You thought it would be futile to argue with him, seeing what humour he was in. The way he had just devoured the bottle of rum would not be helping your case.

‘Why me then? Why not do it yourself since you seem to know as much as me about the stars?’ You thought it would be easier and faster if he had done the work independently. It would already cost less time not to go through this discussion.

Like a thunderbolt, anger struck his face. ‘Because, I say so,’ he snarled before returning to his previous self, ‘and I thought you might like having something to occupy yourself with. Pushing around crates must become boring after sometime, does it not?’

‘How do you–’ He had seen what you had done with the lower deck. But… when would he have had the chance? You could not recall many instances, if any, of the captain coming down to see you after he freed you from your cell.

He pushed himself up from the throne and walked back over to you. Then, he began walking in circles around you, and you tried to keep up with him, but it quickly strained your neck. ‘Yes, I know all about your organizing down there. And about your inquiring nature.’ He nodded over to the desk you had tried to pry open. Something must have given it away. He clicked his tongue. ‘Remember whose ship you’re on, darling. There is nothing that goes by around here without me knowing about it. If you do something, it’s because I let you do it.’

‘I hardly believe that.’

‘Well, believe this then: on any other ship, you could have gotten into a lot of trouble if someone caught you going through another man’s things—’

‘Don’t try and tell me all of that is yours. I know you stole it off other ships.’ You rolled your eyes. Munson played a victim, placing a hand over his chest, pausing in front of you with his big eyes, imitating hurt.

‘Some of it very well may be. This,’ he flicked the collar of the shirt you were wearing, ‘for sure is.’ His fingers grazed at your skin, brushing over your throat hastily. ‘I could have you hung, you know. Or at least take off a few fingers.’

‘I doubt it considering you need me in one piece if you want my father’s money.’

‘Did you know there are hundreds of other man out there who’d pay double for a pretty face like yours?’ He waited for a crack to reveal the fear on your face and didn’t say anything until it showed. ‘Not to mention, I would not be risking arrest with them. Luckily, I am a man of my word. So, to your daddy you shall return.’ He reached for your shirt collar again, flattening it out carefully with a smile that could make you forget any of the horrific things he had just spoken of. ‘As I was saying, darling… I have a feeling you’d rather not end up like the other dirty thieves, so be a doll and prove to me that there was a use in letting you out of your cell after all.’

There it was. The reason for all of this. This was your punishment. Or some kind of redemption. He caught you going through his belonging, and now you had to pay for it— and pay with performing something you already felt to be impossible.

With him standing in front of you, hand still on your shoulder, you looked him directly in the eye. ‘How long do I have?’

The captain puckered his lips in thought and looked out the window. ‘As long as you can make use of the stars. Then I would really like to get back on course.’

Until sunrise, however long that could be. You had a few hours to find your current location and a path back to where you were headed.

‘What if I can’t do it?’ you pushed the question out of your tightening throat, scared of what the answer might be.

‘That is no mindset for you, princess.’ He brushed some hair out of your face. ‘You’re too smart for that. Now go on; no need to waste even more time.’ And with that, he set you on your way. Or, more accurately, he let go of you and made his way to the bed on the opposite side of the room. In the meantime, you felt like your feet were nailed to the ground, unsure of what to do next, scared of taking the wrong steps. All you could do was look around as if the answers were hidden in the cabin. It had not even been a minute, and you could feel your heart getting stuck in your throat, panic setting in. To give up had never been a feasible option for you before, and it still pained you to think of doing it, but the words were ready to leave your mouth. You win. Your lips parted, and your vocal cords croaked when you noticed something.

The letters were partly worn from contact but still reflected in the light. Either way, it wasn’t so much the letters that spoke to you, as you could not clearly read it from a distance, but the symbol above it. A golden star set on top of a leather book spine, winking at you in the fire.

Now with much more confidence, you took the needed strides towards the bookcase. It was pitch black leather, wrapped in a string to keep the delicate pages together. The book was situated on a lower shelf, pressed between other volumes, making it hard to remove.

‘Need help with that, princess?’ Munson sounded from behind you.

Instead of responding, you pulled at the book again, and this time, it fell out from the shelf with a stir as a pile of books near it moved about. Still giving no reaction to the words spoken, you got up and moved to the desk, unwrapping the tie from around the covers and letting it fall open in front of you. The pages were nearly pristine, the ink dark, as if it had never seen the light of day. This ink depicted excellent illustrations of creatures and men.

Despite being ignored by you, for once, the captain kept his distance and let you work while you searched for the correct pages. You could tell from notes that this was definitely the book you needed, as it told you everything you had to know, but the writing was small and not always legible. The pages were thin but rough to the touch. The writing was small, fitting as much information as the writer could cram between the covers. Most of it felt familiar, bringing you back to tales you had heard from your father or the governess. But navigating oneself with the stars' help required much knowledge and skill you still needed to possess.

You tried to focus on it as much as you could, and yet, despite the silence and the space between you, you couldn’t stop glancing his way. The captain lay on the bed, his head toward the door, facing you. Each time your eyes met, you pulled yourself away from it, returning to the words and drawings on the pages, but you could constantly feel his gaze on you. It was unnerving. It was as if he was standing right there in front of you.

‘I promise you, I will be more effective if I do not have to endure your constant breathing down my neck.’ Maybe it was your surprisingly peaceful few hours in solitude on board, the tankard of ale streaming through your blood, or even the overall situation placing the captain in a new light, but you felt bold. ‘So, will you please stop staring.’ You looked up, not even surprised to see him still looking directly at you.

‘What would you rather have me do, darling?’ he asked, almost affectionately… though that could not possibly be what it was.

‘For you to leave, and do not call me darling,’ you dared to express.

‘You want me to leave my own quarters?’ He raised a brow in humour.

‘Yes, that is exactly what I want,’ you explained.

‘Ah, well,’ he threw his hands up, rolling his eyes, ‘if it is exactly what the lady wants, that leaves me with very few options, doesn’t it?’ You watched him walk towards the door, perplexed at the ease with which he moved, …just to swerve around and lean against the door. ‘Oh, no, I suppose it doesn’t.’ He shrugged.

You did your best not to pay attention to whatever the captain was doing—which, in that instance, seemed to be humming some song. You did not recognise it, nor did you have a need to learn it. Especially since, at this moment, any sound from him boomed in your ears like a canon.

‘Must you be doing that? I am trying to concentrate for your own ship’s sake, if you do not recall.’

‘Apologies.’ He stopped, but the energy transferred into his legs, which shook his whole body with them, only softening the sound slightly, but the creaking of the wooden panels underneath him wasn’t much better. You couldn’t do this any longer.

The only thing on your mind was frustration as you slammed the book shut, picked it up and walked towards the door. The captain took one smooth step to the side and, when you pulled at the door handle, had expected it to remain in its bolts, but it opened so quickly that your slight pull was enough to throw you sideways. The night darkness welcomed you together with the cold sea air and confusion.

‘How long has this been open?’ You did not want to look at him and did not need to. You could tell what kind of smile he wore and how he must have enjoyed this moment as he answered.

‘Ever since I came back, princess.’ You could have left any time. You just took a deep breath and counted to three before turning his way and calmly saying something you had thought ever since your eyes fell upon him.

Well, at least better late than never. You stepped out onto the quarter deck without closing the door behind you. A man was half-asleep at the wheel, his entire body leaning on it. Luckily, someone had blocked it, avoiding the ship sailing in circles.

Besides the sleeping helmsman, no one else seemed to be above deck, most likely in their beds as deep night had arrived. There were no lights besides the fire lit in the captain’s office, so you let the darkness take you as you walked down the stairs…. But midway, as the light from the captain’s cabin remained in the distance, you realised your mistake.

‘For Heaven’s sake,’ you muttered under your breath and turned back around, climbing the steps, ignoring the burning hatred you felt in your body. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, you trotted your way back in. While your steps felt heavy, protesting your return into the room mentally, it was strange to walk so freely without all the layers your dress consisted of. With only a shirt over your upper body, you could feel each punch of the air on you, but in a strange sense, you welcomed it.

But stepping back inside, you felt your body heat up again, mainly from embarrassment rather than the soft fire lighting up the cabin. It had not even been a minute, and you were passing the threshold again. You had not expected, nor wanted, to have returned so soon. If luck was ever in your favour, you would never see the interior in your life again, but, unfortunately, there was no escaping from this room for you, as you seemed to be coming back no matter what.

‘Back so soon, princess?’ In the short time of your absence, Munson had returned to the bed and tilted his head at your entrance, grinning, ‘You must have missed me more than I thought.’

You scoffed, ‘for your information,’ and grabbed a lantern on a dressing table closest to the door… which was still too many steps inside for your liking, ‘I am simply gathering some light. It is too dark outside, I cannot read what's on the pages.’

‘Ah. Is that all then?’ he asked, returning his head onto his pillow, closing his eyes as if he was ready for sleep, ignoring his clothes and the stoic position in which he lay. But as you moved around the cabin, he had opened one eye to look your way. ‘I’d suggest you take a jacket, princess. It can be quite cold out there.’

‘You could have made a fine gentleman, Munson.’ You held your head high, not looking at him. ‘It is a shame you let yourself deteriorate at sea like your ship.’

‘That actually almost hurt me, darling. I’m impressed.’ He chuckled, eyes already closed again. With nothing else to say, you passed the large wardrobe and walked straight out of the room. Once again, you walked down the stairs, celebrated when your feet touched the last step and walked onto the ship's centre. Along with the crashing of the waves, you could hear each of your footsteps.

Something must have been in your favour, for the sky was without a cloud and in the darkness of the ship, you could see millions of stars twinkling. The moon was still but a sliver. It brought a similar-looking smile to your face.

You searched for the page you had deemed the most useful beginning and spread the book in your arm. Now, with the book open in your arm, with the flames lighting the pages from above, you gazed up at the stars. After a short moment, this position would not be possible to uphold. The two objects you held were too strong to keep up in the air. Remaining as calm as possible, ultimately pressing the captain out of your mind, you reread the pages.

To navigate through the stars, one must first find Polaris—the brightest star in the sky, right at the end of the Ursa Minor. The sky was clear, handing you the constellations on an onyx platter. The silver balls of fire were peppered around like crystals, gleaming and shimmering, but without a doubt, there was one that shined just a little bit brighter, calling to you with the direction of True North.

You had heard men talk of these methods at home and aboard the Red Tail, and they had always sounded relatively simple. If anything, you considered their constant complaints simply a part of manhood. Now that you were straining out your neck to look around at all the corners of the galaxy, you still did not think it to be much more complicated and so knew that the captain could not have felt any other way.

You had figured out his plan to punish you, and now the rationale behind this specific task came to you. It would not have been unexpected if he tasked you with this hassling job simply because he was too much of a sloth to do so himself. There was still a dim light in the office quarters, so you assumed he had not gone to sleep yet… or perhaps fallen asleep with all the candles still flickering. For a moment, your mind wandered to where the candles tipped over, caught some of the wood around, and never stopped burning.

Just for a moment, until your lantern started to feel hot against you as you held it too close. It felt so heavy. You had to set it on the ground, then sat down beside it with the book in your lap.

Some time passed, but who knew how long precisely you had been sitting out there. Your knees had started to hurt, as well as your spine, but giving up was not an option. The ship swayed back and forth against the waves, blurring your view, only making things more complicated. The wind kept lashing out, but you persisted, trying to calculate the ship's position, flipping back through the book to the pages on which a map had been etched out. You would do this if it was the last thing you did.

‘I will be done by sunrise, ’ you shouted as you heard footsteps behind you. The jingle of chains could have only been one person. You wiped some hair away that the wind blew in your face as you felt the captain’s presence behind you—like a deathly spectre hovering over you. ‘I– I promise.’ You said so more to yourself. Because while you had to prove yourself to him to live, you needed to prove to yourself that you could do this. You would persist and manage to find a way back home.

The captain said nothing; he did not linger around, watching you. The only thing he did, was throw down a large coat onto the ground, which fell onto the floorboards next to you with a thud. You blinked slowly, then turned around to him, but he was already returning to the cabin.

‘It will all be pointless if you freeze to death.’ And with that, he took his last steps and shut the door behind him. The light in his room immediately blackened, obscured by the stained glass in the small door window.

You looked down at the jacket. Like all those the captain wore, it was black but heavily layered. Decorated in what seemed like hand-stitched gold but not in any fashionable manner. The stitching was uneven and needed a clear pattern. The sleeves were falling apart but tied together with what once must have been a silver necklace. Several of them, even. You glanced once more in the direction of the captain’s cabin before putting the coat on. It swallowed you up but immediately brought over a sense of comfortable heat over your body. The soft material protected you against the wind. Now not feeling like your bones were becoming icicles, you began to feel some pleasure in the whole thing. As you kept working, you slowly forgot why you sat in the middle of the ship and let yourself be emersed by the stars. Being out there on your own was actually freeing in a strange sense. The darkness locked you out of your extended surroundings, placing you virtually anywhere.

Well, not anywhere. The constellations held the password to where you found yourself, and you would decrypt it anytime now.

But first, you needed to stretch your legs. The cracking of your joints was enough of a sign that you had sat on that floor long enough. With the lantern in hand, you walked in circles around the ship. The light swung in motion to your steps, in motion to the waves. When you looked out at the sea, you were greeted with two moons. One hung still in the sky while her sister swam in the waters. Mirrored images of each other, smiling and frowning in both directions, but never in reach. Conflicted, perhaps or maybe they simply managed to show you bits of yourself there?

You wanted to say something to them as you stood there, but no words felt right. So, peaceful silence it was. However, the longer you stood there, the more of an effect you thought from the hours you spent on the deck. And there was still so much you had to do. But you could do it.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you leaned against the railing, placing the lantern beside you. The yawn pushed passed your lips without a choice but plenty of resistance. If you stayed there, you would probably fall asleep soon, which is ineffective. So, you grabbed the light, and with your free hand deep in your pocket to keep warm, you returned to your star gazing spot. But not one step in your brisk walk back, you halted. A feeling of something cold and hard against your hand occupied your entire mind there and then. When you pulled it out, you were unsure what it was, but the mechanism must have worn out through the years because it fell open in your hand, revealing a rose. Its arrow pointing right at you.

A compass.

Your head immediately shot toward the captain’s cabin, but the lights had gone out, and there was nothing more to make out of the darkness. Your eyes shut into narrow slits. He had brought you his own jacket and must have known what was in it.

The question now was, why? Why did he give it to you? Was he trying to help you by giving you this tool? Did he think you needed help to get anywhere? Well, you certainly did not. Especially when it could be a trap. The device could very well be defective and put you on the wrong trail, and then, if you were to give the captain the wrong directions, you knew he would not waste a second by punishing you. And this time, correctly.

Still, according to your calculations, North was meant to be behind you, so in that, the compass was correct, but you did not want to risk anything. An instinct told you to throw the thing away, right over the railing into the sea. Let it sink and make the captain watch. Just like you had to watch, your own ship disappear into the waters. It would have been a small taste of revenge, but it was a start.

The idea faded as soon as you shut the compass. You looked at the engraving on it—a detailed depiction of a bird–which kind, you could not quite tell. Perhaps a hawk… could it be… no, you doubted it was a Redtail. It could not be. The simple idea of that brought chills down your spine. How could Munson possess such an item; engraved with your town’s crest?

And it was old. As you had noticed, the clip keeping the two halves together was tethering on falling apart from frequent use, and the window of the rose was cracked. The metal of the shell had finger marks faded into it from the usual position it was held in by hands much larger than yours.

Not wanting to see it again, you pushed the compass deep down the pocket you had found it in. Determined to have the images erased from your mind by the rest of your task and the time pressure put on it, you retrieved your book.

It was harder done than said.

As you stood there, book and fire in hand, spinning around to position the stars as you pleased, the tiny silver lights blurred in your eyes. But you were so close, you could not stop now, not when you were so close. Ignoring the burn of the compass at your thigh as your mind whirred with solutions. With North decided for, and with the latitude… no longitude— and if the charts were pointed this way— then, God, you could not keep this book up anymore. Your arm screamed from the weight of the pages.

Back on the ground, you resumed your final observations. Flipping between the map and the charts, exchanging glances with the book and stars. Yes, if that was North, then… then… you checked the map once more, locating your home definitively.

You did it. You actually did it. It could have been minutes, maybe hours; you could not tell with certainty how much time you had spent on the task, but as you shut the book, so did your body. You fell back onto the deck with a tired smile. It could have been the fatigue, but the stars shone slightly brighter for you, gleaming with pride.

They also became blurrier. Your eyes turned heavy. But you kept staring up with a smile. At least, you do not remember ever stopping. Even if it is possible you fell asleep at some point, you could not tell at what point exactly. All you knew was that you dreamt. And for once, your mind was free of nightmares. As much as your world was free of them, at least. But it had to be a dream.

How else would he appear out of the shadows? Why else did you see him looking down at you; impossible to tell for how long. His features free of anger, mischief or bad intentions, unnatural. He stood there at the balustrade next to the helm. It was impossible to tell how long he had stood there in the dark.

And his walk. It was utterly silent, free of chains or heavy steps. That could have been only your brain letting you rest. His touch was feather soft as he picked you up in his arms.

You shouldn’t have stayed out here this long. He sighed in disappointment, but not in you.

You told me to— you mumbled.

I know. The floor became unstable. You were floating in the air, rising up. Only his hold there to keep you grounded. The one time you should have been stubborn and not listen. Why did you not just go to bed?

I want to go home, Eddie. Why else would you say this if it was not a dream? You could never imagine yourself opening up to him this way. Let him carry you like that. And if you had, it would never feel this good or safe to be held by him.

I know. He repeated himself. There was a shift. No longer in his arms, you were floating on a cloud, but his voice echoed around you. I’m sorry.

None of this could have been real. These could not be the words of captain Munson. But they still stayed with you as your dreams ventured on into other stories. All just as pleasant, the nightmares of all the nights before merely bad memories, never to be repeated again.

I did it, you said quickly before he disappeared, to be replaced by your new figment. North East. Go Northeast.

Here is your final reason. The proof you had dreamt it all. A silent moment, full of hesitation. Then, a fluttering touch of lips on your forehead and a hand brushing your cheek gently. If this had been real life, you would have turned away and let yourself burn in anger, but instead, your lips formed into a smile, and for the first time in forever, you felt at peace.

And just like that, like in any other dream, he was gone while your mind brought you to other fantastical places and told you stories you would not remember. It was a night of wondrous bliss, of rest. Filled with dreams as the stars watched over you.

Only at daybreak did it all change. When the morning sun glowed golden through the large window. Only at that moment you began thinking that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong. Perhaps not all of it had been a dream, for when you woke up, you were not on the ship's deck nor down in your cell. When you woke up, you did so in a bed.

The captain’s bed, of all places.

Chapter 5

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

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thoseboysinblue · 1 year ago

Text

I Kissed Someone New Last Night

Christian Pulisic x reader

You visit your best friend, Christian, in Milan after a break up.

Word count: 4150+

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, mentions of weight loss, mentions of death of parents

Song Inspo: Kelsea Ballerini's Penthouse (Healed Version)

Requested: No

"Come to Milan" he pleads with you through the phone, "I'm worried about you, y/n."

"Christian, you know I can't do that," you frown at him.

"Please," he says quietly, "you've lost too much weight, you're not taking care of yourself, and no offense but you kind of look like shit," he tries to lighten the mood just a bit.

The truth is, there is nothing stopping you from hopping on the next flight to see your best friend and both of you know it. You broke off your engagement a few months ago, after finding out your fiancé was cheating on you. You also recently quit your job because no matter how hard you tried you always were bumping into him and you desperately needed a fresh start.

You had considered moving to Florida to be closer to Christian's family, the only real support system you had left. And even though he was far away, Christian never failed to be there for you through every heartbreak you had endured in your short life.

The night your mom died when the two of you were in high school, he dropped everything to be by your side, staying with you through all of it, holding you when you cried, staying strong for you when you completely fell apart.

He flew home as soon as he heard the news of your father's passing a few years later, and again, he was your rock. As everything in your life seemed to crash down, he was the constant, steady presence.

His family had welcomed you with open arms, including you in their holidays, family vacations, and trips to visit Christian and watch him play. They always made sure you felt like you had a place to call home. In recent years, you had opted to go to Christian for holidays so that he wouldn't have to spend them alone, the two of you setting about creating your own traditions. That was until your ex came along and you felt like you should spend holidays with him, but it broke your heart knowing Christian was spending them alone again.

Christian never really liked your ex, he couldn't put his finger on exactly why, but something about him made his guard go up. And it broke his heart when he found out he was right all along, maybe if he had said something he could have spared you the heartbreak, but you seemed happy and he wasn't going to interfere if that was truly the case.

"Come see me, I'll take care of you, I'll feed you pasta and let you get drunk on Italian wine. We can see the city together, I haven't gotten to do much exploring yet. It will be good for you to get away, take a break, get some fresh air, come on y/n, please?" he continues to plead with you.

"Ok" you whisper and you see his face light up, immediately grabbing his laptop and searching for flights before you have a chance to change your mind.

"How soon can you leave, looks like I can get you on a flight tonight, or tomorrow," he grins into the phone.

"Christian, you don't have to do that, I'll book something," you roll your eyes at him. He never failed to be generous and take care of you, whatever you needed, you didn't even have to ask most of the time.

"Nope. Not happening. Tonight or tomorrow, y/n? You better give me an answer or I'm closing h my eyes and clicking on whatever I land on," he chuckles.

"Fuck it, tonight," you grin at him, the first genuine smile he's seen from you in as long as he can remember.

You have to admit that the thought of landing in Italy tomorrow morning to spend however long you wanted with Christian makes you a little dizzy.

"Ok, pack your bags sweetheart, I'm sending you your boarding pass now," he smiles at you, "fuck I'm so excited to see you, it's been ages since we've gotten to spend time together."

"Christian, I just saw you this summer in Florida," you chuckle at him.

"Yeah, but that was less than 24 hours and you had the dickhead with you so it doesn't really count," he huffs at you.

"Christian this boarding pass says seat 4C, you did not just book me a first class ticket did you, you jackass."

"I sure did, because I can, and because I wanted to, and because there wasn't much left on the flight anyways. Now, get off the phone and start packing. Call me when you leave for the airport. Love you, y/n."

"Love you too, Chris." you shake your head at him before you hang up.

A few hours later, you have taken care of anything that might need your attention in the next few weeks since you were unsure of exactly when you would be back. You had packed and showered, and were set to leave for the airport. Making one final check that you had everything you needed, you call Christian, who answers sleepily, "I'm headed to the airport," you smile, even though he can't see you. "Ok, I'll see you in the morning," he says through a yawn, "safe travels."

"Thank you for this" you whisper but you can hear him snoring through the phone so you quietly end the call, after whispering another "love you."

You phone dings when you turn it off of airplane mode and you look down to see a message from Christian.

Christian: ciao bella 🤌🏻 there will be a car waiting for you to take you to my apartment. I'll be in training when you land, but should be home when you get there. Can't wait to see you 🫶🏻 Love you.

Y/N: oh god, am I going to be subjected to your attempts at learning Italian?

Y/N: thank you for the flight and arranging the car. I'll meet you at home. I can't wait to see you either. Love you, Chris 🫶🏻

Christian: do not insult my Italian, y/n. On my way home now, see you there 😍

When you arrive, he is waiting outside for you, pulling you into a warm embrace. It feels like he might crush you, but being in his arms heals your soul just a tiny bit.

"You've bulked up," you chuckle, your head resting against his chest. "You're skin and bones" he whispers leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

"Come on" he says retrieving your bags from the car and thanking the driver, waving off your attempts to help carry your things.

He leads you inside his new apartment, sitting your bags just inside the door before intertwining his fingers with yours, "let me show you around," he smiles at you adoringly.

He leads you from room to room, letting you know his plans for each of the ones that aren't quiet fully furnished yet. He grabs your bags as you follow him up the stairs opening the door to what you presume is his bedroom.

"Christian, this is gorgeous," you say taking in the room, the view out of his window to die for.

"It is," he smiles, never taking his eyes off of you.

You and Christian always share a bed when you are together so you aren't sure why it makes you slightly nervous to think about staying with him now, but it does. Your stomach flips as he moves your bag into the walk in closet, sitting your toiletry bag on the bathroom counter.

"Are you tired?" he whispers tucking a loose strand of hair around your ear and settling his hand on you jaw, smiling a the way you lean into him and shake your head, your eyes already a little brighter.

"Hungry?" he grins when you nod.

"You feel up to going somewhere, or do you want me to cook here, or we can order in?"

"We can go out, but can I have a few minutes to freshen up? You know I always feel gross after a long flight."

"Of course," he smiles, leading you into the bathroom, grabbing a towel for you and turning on the shower.

"Thank you," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist, "for everything," a couple of tears slip from your eyes which you try to hide from him but he definitely notices.

"Always, y/n" he breathes out, kissing you on the forehead.

After your shower, you wrap yourself in a towel, walking into Christian's room so that you can grab some clothes out of your suitcase. Christian is sitting on the bed when you walk out of the bathroom and his heart sinks when he realizes just how thin you've gotten. He knows it's just from the stress, and that you tend to lose weight when you are dealing with heavy emotions, and that you always return to your normal with a little TLC, usually from him.

He doesn't say anything, he knows he doesn't have to, you can read perfectly well the look of concern on his face.

"I'll be fine, Christian," you whisper as he nods.

"I know you will be now," he offers you a weak smile, but the look of concern is still evident.

You quickly get dressed, noticing that Christian has already unpacked your things and placed them on the empty shelves in his closet, your heart fluttering at the kind gesture.

"Come here" he gestures, patting the empty space on the bed beside him.

You waste no time in climbing over him and tucking yourself into his side, your head resting on his chest as he scratches your back.

"You know I'm here for anything you need, right? Forever." he speaks quietly.

You nod, allowing the familiar sound of his heart and his scent to wash over you. You never feel more cared for than you do when you are wrapped in Christian's arms, his warm embrace always soothing you, no matter what is going on in your life.

"You sure you don't want a nap," he asks quietly, a small yawn escaping his lips.

"We can nap if you are tired, Chris," you whisper.

"That's not what I asked," he chuckles.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and he kisses you on the top of the head, "food first, then naps."

He takes you to a small restaurant close to his apartment, filling you with as much pasta as you can hold before you make the short walk back to his place.

Once you arrive back at Christian's, he closes the room darkening shades in his living room and the two of you settle down on the couch to watch a movie.

Before long, you fall asleep wrapped up in Christian's arms and he does the same. You aren't sure how long you've slept when you stir slightly, waking Christian up.

"You ok?" he whispers into the dark, a sigh escaping his lips when you nod and nuzzle your face into his chest. You let out a giggle when his stomach rumbles, "you can't be hungry again, Chris."

"I'm starving, actually" he chuckles when you move slightly allowing him to stand up and pull you to your feet. He makes the two of you a sandwich, both of you eating before heading up to get changed for bed.

You wander out of the en-suite bathroom in Christian's room after finishing your skincare to find Christian sitting in the bed, already under the covers.

You give him a hesitant look, chewing on your bottom lip, "you sure you want me to stay in here, I could stay in the guest room or..." you trail off as he stands up and makes his way over to you wrapping you in a hug.

"Why wouldn't you stay in here, we've been sharing a bed since we were kids, y/n," he says quietly his hand stroking your back.

"I don't know," you whisper, "I just wasn't sure you wanted me in here."

"Of course I do," he says taking your hand and guiding you towards the bed, "but only if you want to be in here. I can definitely get you set up in the guest room if you would feel more comfortable."

"No, this is fine," you offer him a smile, your moment of anxiety passing.

"You know, I think my parents always thought we were up to something when we kept sharing a bed when we got older," he chuckles, "led to me getting the talk from my dad on more than one occasion."

"No, really?" you groan, your cheeks painted with embarrassment as you try to hide your face with your hands.

"Mmmhmmm" he laughs pulling your hands from your face, "I think they were worried that we might figure out that one of us is a boy and the other is a girl when we were younger, but as we got older, I think there were secretly rooting for it."

"I figured they would eventually put a stop to it, but I guess they trusted you far more than the trusted me," he grins.

"Guess we've disappointed them then," you chuckle tucking yourself into his side as he kisses the top of your head.

"Sleep well, y/n, wake me if you need anything," he whispers as he turns off the lights leaving the two of you wrapped up in nothing but the darkness and each other's arms.

The next several days in Milan Christian works to improve your mood as much as he can, enjoying when he catches flickers of you returning to your normal self.

You wake up early with him, enjoying quiet mornings before he has to leave for training. He even asks if he can bring you along for a few sessions giving you a chance to catch up with his old Chelsea teammates. You spend afternoons wandering the city and learning Italian with him. Evenings, which he knows you typically dread, are spent, snuggled up together watching movies or binge watching some of your favorite series.

Being constantly surrounded by Christian's presence is working wonders for you, you can feel yourself healing from everything you've been through the past few months. During a face time with Christian's mom she mentions that she can tell both of you are in a better place mentally and physically and that she's glad you are getting to spend some time together.

You cannot deny how much you enjoy being with him, here in a safe bubble, seemingly protected from the outside world. And Christian, he's enjoying your company more and more each day. Things are seamless and comfortable between the two of you, conversations are easy, and the silences are never awkward.

He has been thrilled to have you with him as he embarks on a new season with Milan. You've been able to travel to away games with him and we're blown away on your first trip to the San Siro.

One particularly warm evening after a match, you walk out of the bathroom in a pair of pajamas that show far more skin than any others you've worn around him. You pretend not to notice the way his breath hitches in his throat when he sees you and the way his eyes follow you as you slip into bed next to him.

"You ok?" you whisper, resting your head on his chest noticing the way his heart is hammering away.

"Couldn't be better," he sighs, trailing his hands over the exposed skin on your back and shoulders noticing when your skin erupts in goosebumps, a reaction he's not used to from you.

"I've got the next couple of days off, I thought we might take a little trip to Lake Como tomorrow, have some lunch, see the area," he says quietly, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"That sounds nice," you whisper, turning to place a kiss to his chest.

"And I have a surprise for you tomorrow night," he smiles as you turn to look him in the eyes, resting your chin on his chest.

"You know I hate surprises," you grin, a glint of playfulness in your eyes.

"I know, but this is a good one, and you're not getting it out of me," he grins back at you, tickling your sides and making you squeal.

"Now, let's get some sleep, we have an early morning tomorrow," he says, reaching to turn off the light and gesturing for you to turn on your side so that he can be the big spoon.

"Good night y/n," he whispers, "love you," as he places a feather light kiss on your shoulder, so light you almost don't notice it.

"Good night, Chris, love you too." You whisper back to him, intertwining your fingers with his.

The next morning, you both wake up early and have a quick breakfast before leaving for the day's adventure. Lake Como is more beautiful than you could imagine and you share a lunch that borderlines on romantic at a small cafe that overlooks the lake.

"I can't believe we are here," you nudge him with your shoulder as you walk down a small path towards the waters edge.

"I'm sure you could sweep some lucky girl off of her feet here," you chuckle at him noticing the way his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Probably, but that's not what today is about is it," he rolls his eyes at you, "today is about me and you spending time together, not me scoping out potential date spots."

"I know, but what better place to fall in love than Italy, Christian," you say, twirling yourself around in front of him, missing the absolutely smitten look on his face.

"Maybe," he shrugs his shoulders, his eyes never leaving you.

"Are you going to tell me what this surprise is?" you ask him, looping your arm through his and resting your head on his shoulder. Noticing the way his skin reacts to your fingers tracing over his skin.

You like Kelsea Ballerini right?" he asks, as he rests his head on the top of yours as you both of you stare out over the water at the colorful houses dotting the horizon.

"I do, her new album is practically an anthem for my life right now, why?" you breathe out, shuddering as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

"She's playing at the stadium tonight, and I might have gotten tickets for us," he says lowly, tilting his head up so that he can look you in the eyes and see your reaction.

"Playing at the stadium, as in your stadium? In Milan?" you nearly squeal, turning to fully face him as he nods.

"Thank you," your voice comes out low, barely above a whisper as tears well in your eyes, "for this, and for everything, you've always been the one person I could count on no matter what, and I honestly don't know what I would do without you."

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering a bit longer than normal as you notice him swallow dryly.

Leaning back slightly, you take in his features, suddenly mesmerized by his beauty. You've always known Christian was attractive, that much was obvious to you, but Italy has done him a world of good. His summer tan has lingered a bit longer, freckles dancing over his skin, and his eyes seem a bit brighter and more full of hope than you've seen them in a while. You catch your gaze lingering over his lips, noticing how soft and plump they are and wondering what they might feel like pressed against your own.

Christian has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, there isn't a single core memory of yours that doesn't involve him, being here with him the past couple of weeks, his patience, support and attentiveness have healed parts of you you didn't know needed healing.

Part of you never thought it was possible to develop feelings for him beyond friendship, and yet, when he's looking at you the way he is at this very moment, it makes you wonder if there couldn't be something more there.

"You're staring," he whispers, enjoying the flood of color that rushes to your cheeks.

"Am I not allowed to stare at my best friend? You're kind of beautiful you know?" you say, your eyes never leaving his.

"You're the beautiful one," he whispers, leaning down and glancing at your lips, almost as if he's thinking of kissing them before kissing the tip of your nose.

You turn, facing the horizon again as his arms squeeze your waist. "I love it here," you breathe out, feeling him nod as he rests his chin on your shoulder, but you aren't quite sure if by "here" you mean your actual location, or if you mean in Christian's arms.

"We should go," he gives you a gentle squeeze and slides his hand into yours.

The car ride home is quiet, he can tell you're lost in your own thoughts and he'd give anything to know what you are thinking about as you stare out of the window. Truthfully, he's a bit lost in his on thoughts as well, trying to come to terms with everything he's been feeling over the last few days.

Back at his apartment, you start getting ready for the concert, Christian ordering dinner for the two of you to eat as you get ready. You pick out a flowy dress, something that accentuates your best features, wanting to look pretty for yourself, and you catch yourself thinking that you also want to look pretty for him. You want him to be proud to have you with him, not that he's ever made you feel otherwise.

Once you are finally ready to go, you walk out of his bathroom about the same time as he walks out of his closet, also dressed and ready to go. You both silently stare at each other, soaking one another in before his lips curl slightly at the edges as he makes his way over to you.

"You look beautiful as always," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your mouth.

"So do you," you blush slightly at his compliment as he takes your hand and leads you to the car waiting to pick you up.

The concert is amazing, Christian never leaves your side, and most of the night he has one or both arms wrapped around your waist.

As the first notes of "Penthouse" ring out around the stadium he moves so that he is standing behind you, both arms around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he gently sways with you to the music.

Tears well in your eyes at the words that seem so very personal to you, a few spill over as Christian grips onto your hips turns you around. He brings his hands up to cup your face as he brushes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs as the music fades out.

You're staring at each other, both of you knowing exactly what is coming next, as she belts out the healed version of "I kissed someone new last night, and now I don't care where your sleeping baby," Christian presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft and slow, and without a moment's hesitation you grip your fingertips into his t-shirt as you melt into the kiss; his lips slotting perfectly against yours, just as you had imagined they would. Suddenly, it feels like all of the pieces have fallen into place.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, "I love you, y/n" he says quietly, only loud enough for you to hear. A couple of tears fall from your eyes, as you nod and say "I love you too, Christian."

"No, baby, I need you to understand what I'm saying. I'm in love with you, I am desperately in love with you," he says as he bumps his nose against yours.

"I know, and I'm in love with you too," you grin, a squeal escaping your lips as he picks you up and spins you around.

"Stay in Italy with me, I can't bare for you to leave me," he says as he pulls you closer to him, burying his face into your neck, "we can both start over here, and we can start building a life together," he says hesitantly, searching your features for an answer he is hoping will be yes.

You nod and he crashes his lips back to yours in a much heavier yet still reserved kiss considering you are in public.

"So you're staying," he mumbles against your lips.

"I'm staying" you grin, "until you're sick of me."

"That's never going to happen sweetheart," he smiles sweetly, "never."

Tag list:

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#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fluff

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f0point5 · 2 months ago

Note

I like Daniel, but I kinda hated the way CH and RBR acted like they saved him from big bad wolf. By the time I started following F1, Lando was outperforming him.

Everyone knows and talks about 80kg rule, but an average man of his height shouldn’t weight more than 80kg, let alone an athlete. Plus his trainer is his friend from Australia, and he was with him since before he joined McLaren.

As someone who really dislikes Zak Brown, I really hated the whole they starved him narrative. But I agree, Lando should be careful, the second they can’t control him, he’s gone.

Plus, If Lando came out and said something similar happened to him, all the people supporting DR would call him weak and not WDC material.

Lando was obviously outperforming Daniel. Lando is the better driver, I don’t think anyone could argue that.

But again, Daniel has talked about how his mental health deteriorated at McLaren. More than just Christian has talked about Daniel’s weight loss a even Daniel said the stress meant he wasn’t able to eat right. I don’t think they starved him, I think he was in such a bad place that he wasn’t taking care of his health and people who are paid to be aware of that maybe weren’t. To my knowledge he and Daniel unfollowed each other after they stopped working together, which if you are old friends doesn’t suggest it was an amicable choice to part ways, and to my knowledge Daniel no longer even works with a trainer since coming back. Could be a coincidence, but it also could be that he doesn’t have a lot of trust in them anymore. But yeah I don’t agree with the narrative that he was told to lose weight. But I think Zak Brown can create a very hostile work environment when things don’t go his way.

I think Zak felt duped by Daniel when he didn’t perform, and he was bitter about the money he’d spent and that he turned on Daniel the way James Vowles turned on Logan.

Lando has a longer shelf life, because Zak has his claws in deep with Lando (and his hand deep in the pockets), but I think there will come a point (potentially courtesy of one Oscar Piastri) when the shine wears off and Zak realises his eggs are in the wrong basket and he will drop Lando like a hot potato.

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isthlsfate · 3 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⌞ 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 ! ⌝

🎸⋆｡𖦹°‧

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: break the silence

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: black!cheerleader!reader, anxiety and panic attacks, self-doubt, emotional vulnerability, drug deal

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 𖥔 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

🎸⋆｡𖦹°‧

march 21, 1986

the week races by in a haze, each day slipping through your fingers before you can truly hold on to it.

you don't even think about calling eddie, the excitement of your phone call a few days ago quickly drowned out by the weight of reality.

you spend the days deliberately avoiding him, pushing down the guilt that settles heavy in your chest.

“you okay?” chrissy’s gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

she has always been kind—a rare quality among the girls on your cheer squad. she’s one of the few you genuinely like, someone who never got caught up in the drama or pettiness that surrounded the others.

you blink slowly, then nod. “i’m okay.”

she smiles and nods back, then bends down to tie her sneakers.

you do the same, the hum of the crowd from the gym serving as a reminder of where you are.

the music from the marching band pulses through your chest as you concentrate on finishing the routine. your heart pounds, the energy of the pep rally sending adrenaline rushing through your veins.

even though you disliked pretending to fit in with your friends, you found relief in cheerleading. pushing your body hard enough helped release some of those bottled-up emotions.

your moment in the spotlight ends before you even realize it. you release a long sigh and quickly rush off the court with the others to make way for the basketball players.

jason, the basketball team captain, jogs up to the microphone, his proud grin energizing the crowd of students.

"first off, i want to thank each and every one of you. without your support, we wouldn't be here. give yourselves a big hand!"

you force a smile, waving your pom-poms and encouraging your team to join in.

jason grins and gestures toward the cheer squad. "and of course, i have to give a special shout-out to the best and prettiest fans of all time, the tiger cheer squad."

you roll your eyes as the crowd erupts in whistles and cheers.

"chrissy…chrissy, i love you, babe." jason’s cheeks flush as he locks eyes with his girlfriend. "it’s been a tough year for hawkins. so much loss."

a chill runs down your spine, and an uncomfortable feeling churns in your stomach.

"and sometimes, i wonder, ‘how much loss can one community take?' in dark times like these, we need something to believe in. so, last night, when we were down by ten points at halftime against christian academy, i looked at my team and said, ‘think of jack. think of melissa. think of heather. think of billy.'"

“poor billy. he’d still be here if it weren't for you.” (tick)

your smile falters as a sudden ringing in your ears drowns out jason’s voice. you nervously glance around, searching desperately for an escape.

"chrissy.” you whimper, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. she glances at you, instantly understanding, and takes your arm, guiding you urgently toward the locker room.

you cry out as you shove the door open, falling to your knees. the air around you seems thicker, pressing in from all sides. your heart races, each beat pounding in your ears, drowning out chrissy’s concern.

you try to take a deep breath, but it catches in your throat, coming out in shallow gasps instead.

the room feels too small as your vision narrows, blurring at the edges.

“you’re pathetic. soon everyone will know.” (tock)

a cold sweat breaks out across your skin, and you struggle to ground yourself, focusing desperately on anything—your breath, a sound, something to pull you out of the spiraling chaos.

“(y/n), look at me.” chrissy kneels in front of you, grabbing your face. “i need you to take some deep breaths with me, can you do that?”

you blink at her, trying to steady your vision and stop the room from spinning. just as you open your mouth to speak, the door slams open, interrupting you.

you don't bother looking over, but you can faintly hear chrissy talking with whoever it is.

“silly little (y/n) thought she could get away with what she’s done.” (tick)

your heart constricts, feeling as if it’s literally on fire. you let out a strangled cry, clutching at your chest.

“hey, it’s okay.” you hear a familiar voice. a warm hand gently clasps yours, with a firm yet reassuring grip. “breathe in with me, okay? just like last time.”

you squint at the boy in front of you, struggling to keep your eyes on him as he gazes back at you with intense focus.

“eddie.” you choke out, “eddie, you can’t be here—“

"in…and out. nice and slow. we’ll get through this together." he disregards your comment, and you relent, following his guidance.

reality hits you again as you finally come to, casting a sheepish look between your friend and eddie.

“that was really cool of you.” chrissy breaks the silence, giving the dark haired boy a thankful smile.

you’re grateful that she doesn’t ask any questions about you knowing eddie.

you stand up on shaky legs, turning on the sink to take a few sips and splash your face.

you can hear the pep rally coming to an end as the student body erupts into deafening cheers.

chrissy gives you a concerned glance to ensure you're alright. you nod in response, watching her leave the locker room, leaving you alone with eddie.

“why’d you follow me?” you ask, tone harsher than you intended.

eddie leans against some lockers, avoiding your gaze.

“no one saw me, if that’s what you’re worried about. i noticed you and chrissy rushing out the gym and i couldn’t just sit there without making sure you were okay.”

you sigh, giving him a gentle smile.

“i appreciate that, eddie.”

the room falls into an awkward silence, the only sound being the steady hum of the air conditioning unit.

“so…i never got that call.” the long haired boy teases, enjoying the nervous look that falls onto your face.

“right, i’m sorry. things just got a little hectic with cheer practice is all.” you lie through your teeth, your face flushing with embarrassment.

eddie chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“it’s okay, doll. how about you make it up to me by meeting me after the game tonight?”

you fiddle with your fingers anxiously, but ultimately decide to agree.

the crisp hawkins air nips at your legs as you walk beside chrissy, the tournament having just concluded successfully for the tigers.

you find yourself glancing over your shoulder repeatedly, anxious that someone might notice the two of you heading toward eddie’s white van.

not long after your encounter in the locker room, you learned that chrissy already knew eddie, having approached him out of curiosity about his side hustle.

you’re relieved not to be facing this alone.

eddie greets you both with a nod and ushers you into the back of his van. the interior is dimly lit and cluttered, filled with the scent of worn leather and weed.

he retrieves a metal box from a corner of the van, his focus shifting to chrissy as he opens it with a deliberate motion.

“there’s uh…there’s nothing to worry about. okay?”

chrissy nods, glancing over at you before watching curiously as he opens the box.

“so, how does this work exactly?” she asks.

“oh, just like any other old sale, except uh, cash only, and uh, for obvious reasons, no receipts.”

a snort escapes you in response to the boy’s sarcasm, and you miss the smile that spreads across his face at your reaction.

chrissy leaves the van soon after, promising to call you and share her experience.

eddie assists you into the front seat, quickly taking his place beside you. as he starts the engine and accelerates out of the parking lot, you try not to watch too intently as he drives off into the night.

#reader insert #black reader #x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #st4 spoilers #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #kaya cmiygl #kaya writes

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childofchrist1983 · 8 months ago

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This is what the actual death of Jesus would have looked like if we are to be realistic. His death is not depicted in the movies as to what most likely would have actually happened in the days of Roman Crucifixion. This article is realistically more of what took place that infamous day. (The physical Death Of Jesus ) “In 1986, The American Medical Association published an article titled "The Physical Death of Jesus Christ". It details the entire process of Jesus' trial to His death on the cross. In Luke 22, before Jesus is arrested, it is written that He was in great distress & sweating blood. Although rare, it is recognized as Hematidrosis, caused by high amounts of stress. At the time, the crucifixion was considered the worst death for the worst of criminals. But this is not all Jesus faced. He endured whipping so severe that it tore the flesh from His body. He was beaten so horrific that His face was torn & His beard ripped. A crown of thorns, 2-3 inches long cut deeply into His scalp. The leather whip used to flog Him had tiny iron balls & sharp bones. The balls caused internal injuries while the sharp bones ripped open His flesh. His skeletal muscles, veins, & bowels we're exposed, causing major blood loss. Most men do not survive this kind of torture. After Jesus was severely flogged, He was forced to carry His own cross while people mocked & spat on Him. Crucifixion was a process meant to instill excruciating pain, creating a slow & agonizing death. Nails as long as 8 inches were driven into Jesus' wrists & feet. The Roman soldiers knew the tendon in the wrists would tear & break, forcing Jesus to use His back muscles to support Himself to breathe. Imagine the struggle, the pain, the courage..Jesus endured this reality for 3 hours! The Gospel of John writes that after Jesus' death, a Roman soldier pierced His side with a spear & blood & water came out. Scientists explain that from hypovolemic shock, the rapid heartrate causes fluid to gather in the sack around the lungs & heart. The gathering of fluid in the membrane around the heart is called Pericardial effusion & the lungs, Pleural effusion. To the world, Christianity is as foolish as it can get. They believe it's for the weak. But when you are confronted by the reality of the cross, it's clearly not a pretty sight. It is brutal & horrific. This is the weight Jesus carried. The weight of the sins of the world, all so that we can live. God's wrath is fully satisfied in Jesus. This is what it took. Repent & believe! Jesus is “God among us” in the flesh. Jesus Christ is our LORD and Savior. Jesus loves you so much, He went through this spiritual and physical punishment for your sins and mine. Jesus is LORD, Almighty God, Everlasting Father.

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devotioncrater · 1 year ago

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im not sure I have the property to say this since ive only been watching loki through twitter, but did you also get a little bit of a ted lasso finale vibe?

hmmm not really? with ted lasso's ending, none of what happened made any sense narratively or thematically. with loki's ending, it fit both narratively and thematically (to me at least).

but similar to my thoughts on ted lasso's ending, i do think loki's ending would have been elevated if those two old men had kissed.

i also will add that loki is Marvel. we know what to expect from A Marvel Show because at the end of the day, it is under Disney's Ironclad Fist. allowing their main character loki to be Explicitly Queer Onscreen (rather than just mentioned) was never ever going to happen. that would have alienated Disney's domestic viewers, sure, but to them more importantly countries such as China (who have historically barred queer media from being shown) would have pulled financial backing. and Disney Loves Money More Than Creative Storytelling, so...why would they risk upsetting their profit margins? also also Disney is rooted in evangelical christian support, and has strong affiliation with being conservatively Family Friendly. a gay kiss? not happening for one of their most famous and beloved MCU characters.

meanwhile, AppleTV isn't beholden to this puritanical expectation nor does it have decades of financial ties. ted lasso was one of their biggest shows. they marketed ted lasso's S3 as this amazing, industry-changing phenomena. Oh My God Ted Lasso Is Ending You Don't Want To Miss This Finale type vibe. we were led to believe ted's journey would end up one place....and then it didn't. this could be abt tedbecca or tedtrent, those two endgames are in the same boat in my opinion. as a character, ted himself is intensely queer-coded. it's undeniable. it would have fit the vibe of the entire show's premise about Found Family + Accepting Love In All Forms for ted to be canonically bisexual or queer. THAT would have been a strong weight thrown in the industry, imo. but no, ted goes back to his straight, lonely, dull life in kansas for no solid reason (despite rebecca laying out a perfectly good option for both henry and michelle to join ted in london).

loki stuck the shakespearean tragic hero landing. loki IS burdened with a glorious purpose. loki HAS to end up alone. him choosing loneliness is integral to his bigger purpose within the narrative itself. the entire story and his entire character arc builds up to him acting selflessly with integrity in order to protect his friends. here you have a trickster god who spent his entire life begging to be seen by someone, then gets seen by someone, and then has to let that someone go for their perceived betterment. loki, a notoriously selfish, lying motherfucker who blew up NYC, goes through this immense transformation to where he fundamentally changes who he is. loki at the start of season one is not who loki is at the end of season two. the way he deals with feelings of loss is night and day. his lonely ending is cathartic because it feels earned and comprehendible and it carries weight from how it highlights his character growth.

can we say the same about ted lasso himself? no. ted lasso in season one is not who he is in the end of season three, true. externally, he becomes divorced, he leaves richmond, he went to therapy. but intrinsically he as a character did not grow enough to where him choosing his lonely ending felt cathartic. throughout the show, ted takes on the role of Carer. he Has To Care For Others, yet he tends to reject people when they want to take care of him. we see him struggle with depression, alcohol dependence, emotional unavailability, panic attacks, homesickness, and guilt. when season three reaches midway, we see him find solace in his friends and community and learning to be alone. even with his mom, a triggering person for him, he vocalized his feelings in an honest and truthful way. ted's character arc is written to match the show's theme of found family, acceptance, and love.

and that, to me, is why him going back to kansas did not work. there wasn't any catharsis in ted lasso's ending. it negates the thematic intent, as well as defies the narrative itself. a comedy can genre-bend into dramatic tragedy, yes, but not in the literal last hour. tragedies only work when they feel earned and cathartic. tragic heroes need their arcs to carry weight which feels worthwhile. ted lasso held none of these genre values

#maybe one day i will Get On Camera and record/edit a deep dive into the failure of ted lasso's s3 #anyways. cant believe im praising marvel for this

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endlessly-cursed · 2 years ago

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HL- Beatrice Brown

"𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚."

Name: Beatrice Henrietta Brown

Nicknames: Bea, Trix

Birthdate: 12th of September, 18xx

Zodiac Sign:Virgo

Personality Type (MBTI): INTP

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Nationality: British

Physical Appearance

Hair: Flaming red

Eyes: Blue

Height: 1.55m

Weight: 56kg

Body Type: Slim

Skin Tone: Pale, freckled for working in the sun

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): Several

Background

Hometown

Warwickshire was the town where miners had been working for centuries, and the Browns were no less, working since the American revolution. She had a difficult childhood, and had to start working at six years old to maintain the family, as well as many mouths to feed came into the family.

The moment she got her Hogwarts letter, her life changed for the better.

Family

Mother: Louisa Jolene Brown neé Mills

The granddaughter of a Baron, her mother was the bastard daughter of the baron, who shunned them because her mother was Spanish and supporter of the First Spanish Republic. They grew up in a small cottage in Devonshire and trained her to marry someone who’d make her work lighter and better.When she turned 19 she met Bartholomew Brown while taking a stroll with her best friend when she noticed a handsome, shirtless young man covered in black– when she took a closer look, he was being beaten. She commanded them to stop and brought him to her house, where she healed him– they fell in love instantly. They married shortly after. Louise walked to the altar three months pregnant of Beatrice.Sadly, seven years later, when giving birth to her son during three days, she’d die of childbed fever shortly after. This devastating loss marked the Browns forever and Bartholomew wasn’t the same. So it was a joy when his eldest daughter received a letter from Hogwarts.

Father: Bartholomew Christian Brown

A Muggleborn whose father was a coal miner as well, he always was a simple man who enjoyed the simple things and never took anything for granted. He grew up in a closed world where you were defined by your birth and never knew how to write nor read. It was his future wife and mother of his three children Louise, a granddaughter of a Baron, who taught him and her intelligence, stubbornness and kindness which made him fall in love with her.

Younger sister: Esther Louisa Brown

Esther and Bea were the closest in age and bonded over many things and helped and defended one another when it came to fending off old lechers or when the mine was too tough. She was bugged by being separated from her when her Hogwarts letter came, but it was all for the good of the family. Esther went to marry Andrew Rivers, the ancestor of Isabelle Dubois, whose mother was a Rivers by birth.

Brother: Albert Ruben Brown

Bea loves her brother and does her best to protect him, though he’s a man with his own ego and is a bit entitled and has some misogynistic views of women in the family business, and the fact that he despised Beatrice for having exclusive education while he had to sacrifice it for the family. The two of them lost contact when he married a childhood friend and only asked for money.

Hogwarts

House: Gryffindor

Best Class: DADA, Muggle Studies, Ancient Studies, Charms

Worst Class: HOM

Boggart: Her dead mother blaming her for her death

Riddikulus: Her dressed as a bunny

Patronus: tbd

Patronus Memory: Singing with her mother

Mirror of Erised: Being able to love Orla openly

Amortentia (what she smells like): Coal, tall grass, beer and pine wood

Amortentia (what she smells): Freshly plucked strawberries, variety of flowers and rainy day

Career

7-10: Coal miner

11-18: Hogwarts student

19-24: Quidditch trainee

25-40: Player of the Harpies as a Chaser

40-55: Captain of the Harpies

56-64: Flying professor at Hogwarts

65+: Retiree

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Her family, her own survival, the rights of coal miners

Strengths: Strong-willed, humble, patient, brave, honourable, kind and caring

Weaknesses: Stubborn, proud, never asks for help, reserved and extremely quiet

Stressed: Around rich people and purebloods who benefit from her family’s suffering

Calm/Comforted: In Orla’s arms

Favorites

Colors: Red, black, gold and blue

Weather: Cool and calm

Hobbies: Learning, football and knitting

Fashion: Due to living most of her childhood in poverty, she dresses very simple and poorly made outfits, rarely caring of how she looks, caring more of taking something to her mouth

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Orla Shannon Atkinson ( @nightmaresart )

Orla and Beatrice met during the meals in the Great Hall. One Slytherin was laughing at her for being a "mudblood" when Beatrice silenced him with a slap and delivered a speech of how she was much more than her status and that while she'd mature and learn, he'd always be an obtuse, narrow-minded and ignorant pureblood. She was intrigued then by this girl who stood up to her bully. Later, she'd realise she was in most of her classes, and how strong-willed, independent, kind and resilient she was. Her fondness grew to love and soon revealed her feelings to her in the Astronomy Tower when everybody else was sleeping. Beatrice returned her feelings and both of them would act as best friends, but at night they'd organise rendezvous and steal kisses and words of affection. When her father found out, he was scared of her, but supported her nevertheless. Orla soon became one more of the Browns.

Soon, after graduating, when the Harpies accepted and both had to shape themselves, she vowed to love nobody and find her way to her again. They wrote to one another and kept her vow until they found each other and wed on Lady Gray's chapel, vowing to never part from the other and always be their #1 priority.

They couldn't have children, but they adopted the children of the fallen coal miners and stray kids and gave them a better life.

Friends: Ethel Hexley ( @the-al-chemist )

Both women hit it off right away, both having similar backgrounds and bonded over many things and soon showed an eager Ethel the ropes of the coal miners’ suffering and both supported one another, accompanying them to their respective activisms

Abigail Jane Bennett ( @mjs-oc-corner )

Both had similar backgrounds and were dormmates, and soon bonded over many things, and she helped her be more secure about herself and better a bit more her image, and became good friends and almost sisters to one another.

Rivals: TBD (though she’d have a handful)

Trivia

Due to the homophobia of the era, she and Orla couldn't marry, but had a small ceremony where her father and someone of Orla's trust witnessed and was officiated by Lady Gray in her family chapel as Viscountess.

They had to move from place to place because of her work.

She never had children of her own but adopted several children who had become orphans because of the bad life quality life of the coal miners.

She became later in life a great advocate of the coal miners, taking her father's work

She can run really fast and her father taught her street fighting, so she can throw a punch

She spent most of her life honing her duelling skills.

Her dormmates were the only ones who knew about she and Orla.

She used to be bullied by Slytherins because of her blood condition.

Her father died a year after her clandestine wedding to Orla due to his poor health.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #oc: beatrice brown #orla atkinson #orlatrice #beatrice x orla #ethel hexley #abbi bennett #character sheet #oc profile #hogwarts legacy mc #my profile #my oc

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mayank099 · 1 year ago

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Exploring The Exodus Effect: A Deep Dive

Today's topic will be The Exodus Effect book, which includes a recipe for an oil that can improve your overall health and aid in the treatment of a number of other ailments. This is written to assist many individuals, including you, and it is also extremely reasonably priced.

➥✅🔥🔥 Sale is live at official website ➾➾ 👈😍💪💥

What is The Exodus Effect?

The Exodus Effect is a book that contains secrets from the Bible that teach people how to prepare holy anointing oil. You will discover how to mix the right ingredients to prepare the original anointing oil the Israelites used when they were lost in the wilderness.

The oil can help heal pain and chronic diseases. It improves your spiritual faith and restores happiness in your home. While in the wilderness, the Israelites used anointing oil to draw close to God and fight pain.

According to the creators of The Exodus Effect, the anointing oil contains specific ingredients that help combat inflammation, improve brain power, and support your immunity. Christians are welcome to prepare the anointing oil to strengthen their faith and spiritual connection.

Creating the divine anointing oil is simple, does not require special equipment, and anyone can prepare it in the comfort of their home. The Exodus Effect provides information on different ways to consume oil. The anointing oil can be used in Christian events such as the coronation of church leaders.

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What Can You Gain Knowledge from Exodus Effect? The Exodus Effect is the best example of a secret that you cannot discover for yourself in the Bible. It includes all the necessary instructions and advice to enable us to reap the natural advantages of what God designed for us. Here are some of the points he has made.

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beardedmrbean · 2 years ago

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The trial for a North Texas influencer accused of deceptive business practices is scheduled to begin next month.

Social media personality Brittany Dawn Davis faces a lawsuit from Texas over a fitness plan scheme that state officials say violated consumer protection laws and misled followers with eating disorders.

Davis’ trial in Dallas County, scheduled to begin March 6, could offer a glimpse into the sometimes lucrative world of social media influencing.

The lawsuit centers around Davis’ business, Brittany Dawn Fitness, which billed itself a personalized health and fitness coaching service.

Beginning in 2014, Davis sold online fitness packages for $92 to $300 to thousands of customers, according to the lawsuit. But the plans were not individualized, and Davis did not provide coaching and check-ins as promised, the state alleges.

On social media, Davis positioned herself as having overcome eating disorders with nutrition and exercise, the lawsuit says, leading clients to believe she was trained to address such conditions.

Neither Davis nor her attorney, Calvin McLean, responded to requests for comment.

A former customer, who at one point weighed less than 80 pounds, was quoted in the lawsuit saying she chose Davis because she had advertised herself as an “eating disorder soldier.” Another said she nearly passed out from inadequate nutrition.

One woman reached out to Davis pleading for help. “I truly need guidance, help, the right information and support right now currently have an eating disorder, horrible body image views am underweight for my height.”

Davis replied, “Great! Welcome to the #teambrittanydawn family.”

In some cases, Davis provided weight-loss plans to clients needing to gain weight, according to the lawsuit.

Davis denies accepting customers with eating disorders, the lawsuit says, but at least 14 customers who sought refunds mentioned eating disorders in their complaints.

The Texas attorney general’s office began receiving complaints in 2019 as customers sought refunds, often unsuccessfully.

Davis apologized on Good Morning America that year and took down her fitness website bdawnfit.com. The website is now active, although the shop is shut down.

Since then, Davis has shifted her focus on social media platforms from fitness to faith, often posting inspirational and Christian content. She has retained a large following, including 473,000 followers on Instagram and 1.2 million on TikTok.

In 2021, she started hosting She Lives Freed spiritual retreats in several cities, charging $125 for a one-day event in Fort Worth. And in 2022, she chronicled her experience as a new foster parent with her husband.

Davis also moved from Dallas to Fort Worth, explaining in social media videos that Dallas was too materialistic and she wanted to be closer to family.

Court records show both Davis’ attorney and the attorney general’s office asked to postpone the trial, but the judge denied the request, saying the parties had failed to mediate on their own.

Texas is seeking between $250,000 and $1 million in penalties and court fees.

#nunyas news #obviously not a personal touch on that then

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woven-in-christ · 2 years ago

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**THE DEATH OF JESUS**

In 1986, The American Medical Association published an article titled "The Physical Death of Jesus Christ". It details the entire process of Jesus' trial to His death on the cross.

In Luke 22, before Jesus is arrested, it is written that He was in great distress & sweating blood. Although rare, it is recognized as Hematidrosis, caused by high amounts of stress.

At the time, the crucifixion was considered the worst death for the worst of criminals. But this is not all Jesus faced. He endured whipping so severe that it tore the flesh from His body. He was beaten so horrific that His face was torn & His beard ripped.

A crown of thorns, 2-3 inches long cut deeply into His scalp. The leather whip used to flog Him had tiny iron balls & sharp bones. The balls caused internal injuries while the sharp bones ripped open His flesh. His skeletal muscles, veins, & bowels we're exposed, causing major blood loss. Most men do not survive this kind of torture. After Jesus was severely flogged, He was forced to carry His own cross while people mocked & spat on Him.

Crucifixion was a process meant to instill excruciating pain, creating a slow & agonizing death. Nails as long as 8 inches were driven into Jesus' wrists & feet. The Roman soldiers knew the tendon in the wrists would tear & break, forcing Jesus to use His back muscles to support Himself to breathe. Imagine the struggle, the pain, the courage..Jesus endured this reality for 3 hours!

The Gospel of John writes that after Jesus' death, a Roman soldier pierced His side with a spear & blood & water came out. Scientists explain that from hypovolemic shock, the rapid heartrate causes fluid to gather in the sack around the lungs & heart. The gathering of fluid in the membrane around the heart is called Pericardial effusion & the lungs, Pleural effusion.

To the world, Christianity is as foolish as it can get. They believe it's for the weak. But when you are confronted by the reality of the cross, it's clearly not a pretty sight. It is brutal & horrific.

This is the weight Jesus carried. The weight of the sins of the world, all so that we can live. God's wrath is fully satisfied in Jesus. This is what it took. Repent & believe! Jesus is “God among us” in the flesh. Jesus is our Savior. Jesus loves you so much, He went through this spiritual and physical punishment for your sins and mine.

Jesus is LORD, Almighty God, Everlasting Father.

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thexkingxofxstrikers · 9 hours ago

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Colton James Hayes Profile

General Information

Full Name: Colton James Hayes Nickname: Cole Age: 23 Nationality: American Religion: Agnostic (raised with some Christian influences but lost faith over the years) City of Birth: Wichita, Kansas Current Place of Living: Challenger’s Deep, within the Widow's Web tournament complex Job Title: Soccer Player/Participant in The King of Strikers tournament Employing Company: None (freelancer in underground tournaments) Income: Previously minimal earnings from minor, underground games; currently nothing steady Is He Married? No Mother Tongue: English Birthday: November 13, 2005 Does He Own a Home? No, he has never been able to afford his own place due to constant moves and instability. Likes: Playing soccer, solitary runs, listening to the ambient sounds of the Midwest (wind through grass, open fields), and classic rock, especially on long drives, insects. Dislikes: Loud crowds, being told what to do, any form of pity, tornadoes and natural disasters, and the feeling of being trapped in cycles of failure

Background

Childhood: Cole’s childhood was marked by hardship, characterized by frequent relocations and the instability of living in lower-income neighborhoods across the Midwest. He clung to soccer as a source of stability, using his talent as an escape from his chaotic family life and the struggles they faced. Teenage Years: During his teens, Cole’s talent began to shine, and he caught the attention of coaches and scouts. However, this period was marred by a series of misfortunes. From minor injuries to natural disasters forcing him and his family to relocate, Cole felt his dreams slipping through his fingers. Over time, he became bitter and felt his ambitions were cursed, isolating him emotionally. Adulthood: Cole’s adulthood has been defined by disappointment and a reluctant descent into the underground soccer scene. Unable to break into the professional sphere due to a series of unlucky breaks, he began playing in underground matches. The pressure, danger, and his own dwindling hope wore him down, making him jaded yet desperate enough to join The King of Strikers tournament as a last shot at freedom.

Relationships

Siblings: An older sister, Mia, who he was close to during childhood but lost contact with due to family tensions and distance. Colton's sister lost her husband in the tornado that destroyed the family home. Amid her grief, Mia would take her feelings of loss and anger out on him, saying that every time he gets "lucky" someone else gets hurt. Parents: A strained relationship, particularly with his father, who saw Cole’s potential as the family’s ticket out of hardship. He has a strong but conflicting relationship with his mother, to whom Cole swore he'd one day make her proud, and with that pride, provide a comfortable life. This promise has locked Cole on a trajectory of self-ruination. Sam “Sawyer” Fletcher: Former friend and teammate from the Midwest who tries to support Cole but serves as a painful reminder of the dreams Cole has left behind. Sam has always seen the best in Cole, having been by Cole's side at the time of his most fun-loving self, before the weight of expectation and the cruel irony of fate chipped away at Cole's hope until he no longer remembered what it felt like to smile. Sam does what he can to anchor Cole and support him but feels Cole slipping further away by the day. Mitch "Grizzly" Morrison: Mitch is known for studying his opponents meticulously, observing their habits, weaknesses, and fears. In particular, he is drawn to Colton “Cole” Hayes, whom he sees as the ideal prey—talented, but deeply insecure and emotionally fragile. Mitch is directly and almost solely responsible for tipping Cole over the edge into self-destruction, all in the name of victory on the soccer pitch. Travis Callahan: An old teammate, Cole saw at once his highest level of achievement, and last professional match alongside Travis. As part of a semi-pro team from Wichita, Kansas, Cole found himself competing in a regional championship match against another team from St Louis, Missouri. With his team down 3-2, Cole missed a crucial shot, failing to tie up the score and leaving the hopes of the club resting on the shoulders of Travis's now infamous free kick. Khalil blocked Travis, Travis's father's heart gave out... And Cole had finally seen enough heartbreak to quit his dreams altogether. But a refusal to break his promise to his mom and a last-ditch effort to find out whether he truly is cursed once and for all has brought Cole to the King of Strikers, and now he must face down Travis Callahan, once and for all. Desmond "Des" Kincaid: Alongside Travis and Cole, Des was a part of that cursed Wichita team that had the misfortune of playing against Khalil's squad from St Louis. Des was a passive bystander in the closing moments of the match. With Cole and Travis having the deciding shots in their eyes, they both came up short, and Des's dreams of winning a regional championship were dashed. But fate (read: Lucien) has a sense of humor, and has placed Des on the same team as Cole in the King of Strikers tournament, much to Des's dismay. Des continues to pressure and push around Cole, demanding him to stay out of his way before he ruins his career for a second time. But when it comes time for that fateful whistle to blow, which side of fortune will Des, Cole, and Travis find themselves on?

Physical Characteristics

Addictions: None, though he occasionally uses physical pain as a coping mechanism (pushing his body hard in training or matches) Bad Habits: Tends to withdraw when under stress, bottling up emotions until they become overwhelming Eye Color: Brown Hair Color: Red Skin Color: White Dialect: Mild Midwestern accent Drinks Regularly? No Disabilities: Chronic knee pain from past injuries Preferred Proverbs: “Sometimes you’re the hammer, sometimes you’re the nail.” Smokes? No Good Habits: Hard-working, punctual, dedicated to his training despite the odds Height: 6'0" Hobbies: Practicing soccer tricks, running, listening to music alone, collecting bugs Wears Glasses? No Health: Fairly healthy but weakened by accumulated injuries and the physical toll of the tournament Face Type: Sharp, defined features with a slight weariness Weight: 175 lbs Style: Practical and rugged, often wearing basic athletic gear or whatever’s provided in the tournament

Mental Characteristics

Education: High school graduate; some college classes in physical education before financial constraints forced him to drop out Intelligence: Average academically but has high athletic intelligence and perceptiveness on the field Fears: Fear of being forgotten, failing again, and becoming entirely irrelevant Life Goals (Next 5 Years): Survive the tournament and, if he somehow escapes, find a sense of purpose in life Life Goals (Next 25 Years): Vague, as he rarely lets himself think this far ahead anymore; if pressed, he’d admit he wants peace and stability Self-Perception: Views himself as cursed, resilient but ultimately doomed to fail Assumed External Perception: Thinks others view him as talented but unlucky, perhaps weak for his string of failures Self-Confidence: Low; he’s quick to self-doubt, seeing every setback as a sign that he’s on a doomed path Rational or Emotional: Emotionally driven, though he tries to mask it with a hardened exterior How to Upset Him: Mock his failures or imply that his talent is wasted

Emotional Characteristics

Emotional Strengths: Determined to the point of stubbornness, willing to endure pain and hardship without complaint Emotional Weaknesses: Prone to withdrawing when overwhelmed, easily disillusioned, struggles with feelings of inadequacy Introvert or Extrovert: Introvert, though he can be social when needed for the sake of a team Copes with Fury and Rage: Tends to bottle it up, leading to occasional outbursts in extreme cases Copes with Unhappiness: Withdraws into himself, becoming silent and distant Copes with Rivalry: He feels a mix of envy and bitterness, especially towards those who have had smoother paths Copes with New Situations: Slow to adapt, he often enters situations cautiously due to fear of failure Copes with Trouble: Focuses intensely on physical actions, like training, to avoid thinking about the issue Meaning of Life: Initially, it was to achieve greatness, but now it’s simply to survive and find peace Would Change About Life: Wishes for a life where he could pursue soccer without the constant setbacks Motivations: Recognition, escape from a life of failure, finding some level of peace or freedom Situations that Scare Him: Feeling trapped or seeing others suffer because of him Happiness Triggers: Small victories in soccer, being alone in nature, moments of genuine camaraderie Bias: Holds a bias against privileged athletes who’ve had easier paths Prefers Giving or Taking: Takes, but reluctantly; he wants to be self-reliant Nice or Rude: Generally aloof, but capable of kindness, especially toward those who understand his struggles

#boys love #bl recommendation #visual novel #lgbt #gay #gay romance #yaoi #yaoi recommendation #Colton James Hayes #Colton James Hayes bio

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atthecenterofeverything · 26 days ago

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thinking about questions of choice and body autonomy in evangelical weight loss programs and sexual reorientation (ex-gay) seminars, and how that ties in with general treatment for alcoholism and other substance use.

especially with the concept of being a steward of a body which really belongs to God, which you then have a moral/divine mandate to protect ("overeating" or gay sex being essentially viewed as damaging someone else's property, sometimes explicitly in those terms). turning over to God is simply acknowledging a prediscursive fact, and not in proper terms a decision.

see Seeking the Straight and Narrow: Weight Loss and Sexual Reorientation in Evangelical America: "Salvation by definition means not having the same degree of choice regarding one’s body and its actions as implied by secular cultural values. Personal choice, preference, and desire become less important than using one’s body in the way one believes God intends. Ex-gays cling to that perceived lack of choice as a way to fend off homosexual temptation. "

which of course leads to the well-known 1st step of AA, an explicitly Christian program, that emphasizes admission of powerlessness over addiction ("we admit (...) that our lives had become unmanageable"), and see similar rhetoric, where affirming power and autonomy over one's own life is in itself a marker of being in denial and not "committed to recovery". with the obvious addendum that AA programs are often court-mandated, for example to keep custody of your children or avoid jail time, as a means of social control but with the supporting argument that a person must be forced into sobriety (that their lives/bodies are not theirs and must be managed by an external power), the obvious secular flipside of the idea above.

not that this idea came from religious society into secular society or vice versa but rather that they are two manifestations and justifications for social control aiming to produce a body that is productive for capitalism. a person that deviates from this ideal is 1. misguided, as they are mainly borowing a body they do not own 2. delusional and self-harming, if they are seeking autonomy over their body and 3. must be managed and stewarded by an outside force in order to comply because 4. this outside force was the real owner of their body all along

#body autonomy #anti psychiatry #mine #readings #seeking the straight and narrow

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mallorybeckwith · 4 months ago

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Finding Strength and Belonging in "Bipolar Flames"

Imagine battling a mental illness such as bipolar disorder, addiction, or the fallout from unconventional spiritual practices. On top of those challenges, you feel isolated, misunderstood, and adrift in a sea of judgment. It is a brutal combination, leaving you yearning for a safe harbor.

Mallory Beckwith's memoir, Bipolar Flames, is like a lighthouse in the distance. This touching and reflective book is a warm embrace for those who have ever felt the sting of isolation and the weight of stigma while searching for a deeper meaning and purpose.

This book isn't just about overcoming adversity. Instead, it eliminates the barriers that hinder your progress. Whether it is mental illness, addiction, or unconventional spiritual journeys, Mallory Beckwith shares with us her own struggles – the emotional turmoil, the fear, the anxiety, the challenges, the mental battle, the desperate search for meaning, and the crushing loneliness.

But within this vulnerability lies a powerful message that speaks to us that we are not alone!

"Bipolar Flames: Escaping the New Age and Redemption Through Christ" builds a connection for those navigating the complex terrain of bipolar disorder. The unpredictable highs and lows, the emotional turmoil, and the loneliness—Mallory shares it all, fostering a sense of empathy and recognition. You'll find yourself nodding along, realizing your own struggles are mirrored in her story.

Similarly, for those battling addiction, recovery often feels like a solitary path. Shame and stigma can erect walls, making it difficult to reach out. "Bipolar Flames" sheds light on this struggle, offering hope. Mallory's story highlights the importance of support networks and the incredible resilience of the human spirit.

Navigating spiritual exploration can also be a lonely journey filled with confusion, betrayal, and the loss of a comforting belief system. "Bipolar Flames" delves into these complexities, highlighting the potential pitfalls of unregulated New-Age beliefs and practices. Mallory's experience serves as a cautionary tale, but more importantly, offers a path towards recovery and a sense of belonging within a Christian community.

This sense of belonging is perhaps the most valuable takeaway from "Bipolar Flames." Mallory does not just share her story. Instead, she creates a dedicated space for others to share their struggles. By joining her on this journey of healing and redemption, you will discover a wealth of knowledge and support. You will find others who "get it," who understand your struggles and are willing to lend a helping hand.

"Bipolar Flames" isn't a magic cure but a powerful guide on the path to restoration. This remarkable and touching book reminds you that you are worthy, regardless of your past or present struggles. It is a beacon of hope in the darkness, a warm embrace whispering, "You belong here." So, if you have been feeling isolated, lost, and misunderstood, pick up "Bipolar Flames" and find strength – both spiritually and mentally – in the company of others who understand.

About the book:

"Bipolar Flames: Escaping the New Age and Redemption Through Christ," is a raw and unflinching account of Mallory Beckwith and her battles with bipolar disorder and addiction and new-age spirituality. Join Mallory and walk along with her through the chaos, the crippling lows, and the manic highs that colored her world when the narrative takes a sharp turn when her exploration of New Age spirituality leads to a terrifying descent into delusions and darkness. But just like the water that makes its way out of anything, Mallory doesn't shy away from the allure of New Age beliefs. Instead, she unravels the initial sense of autonomy and control it offers. With brutal honesty and credibility, she demonstrates and shares the emptiness and spiritual pitfalls hidden beneath the surface. Her journey of disillusionment resonates deeply with anyone who's ever felt drawn to alternative spiritual paths only to find them lacking substance at times.

The book is available on Amazon for purchase: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D6L41BT5.

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theheartslament · 4 months ago

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When Darkness Deepens

"Lord, How long will You keep me in this pain? I know You're with me but I'm tired of having a routine to wake up every day from a nightmare, tear-strained and with a heavy heart. I'm so tired of people hurting me as if I'm a dumpster of hurts. I'm tired of healing from things that I didn't deserve. I'm tired of the injustice and tired of mending my heart that other people broke. I'm tired of carrying the weight of the world, of my afflictions, on my shoulders. I'm tired, so tired, Lord. I give up.

I whimpered to God with my tears streaming down my face, my eyes squeezed shut in hopes of ceasing my pain, shaking and surrendering my defeat from a losing battle inside of me.

I give up, Lord.

This morning, I had a major depressive episode that made my world seem like a dark place, even with the sunlight streaming through the window that should warmth my skin. I felt cold. My pain emotionally numbed and paralyzed me. It seemed to me that the sky was bleak with charcoal clouds which seemed to mirror my soul. The familiar fog of depression had rolled in, and I was weary of the struggle.

I didn't want to write this blog but my mind was flooded with doubts and fears, I needed to write and get them out of my head and heart before sorrow engulfed my soul. So Let me express my grief that's weighing my heart.

I know I had to run to God and find refuge in Him, but I could never forget that feeling of defeat when I sat unmovingly in front of my desk, staring blankly into space while my bible wide open waiting for it to be read. My agony was beyond unbearable, it trapped me in the corner of my mind. I give up, I give up I keep repeating to myself. The slimy shadow that follows me wherever I go, grows so big it consumes me — feeding on my life force and the remains of my hope. I watched the saturation slowly drain from my life. Going from colors to black and white and finally to grey. I didn’t notice the loss of the colors of my surroundings until I no longer had the motivation or the energy to care about it. I sat there trembling, I cried, and I grieved.

These past couple of months or maybe a year, have been miserable, loss after loss, and hard thing after hard thing. It was exhausting and excruciating. You know Lord how much I loved my friends, but it feels like they don't feel the same. My subconscious tells me that I'm losing them and they're abandoning me. And this fear is crushing me when it's turning into a reality.

A year ago I had to walk away from my dear friend who was also my first love whom I have waited and prayed to God for 7 years. I silently walked away from him to give way to someone he loves, I walked away grief-stricken over a broken heart. My hopes and dreams with him were crushed. I felt like I was dying. When I tried to share glimpses of my pain with my well-meaning Christian friends, they didn't understand my heartbreak, my grief. Not long after, I had a conflict with my other close friend who lectured me when I needed understanding and support from her. I was really hurt that she didn't understand I was setting boundaries to guard myself because I was still hurting from my heartbreak. I felt like I had lost another close friend. I became more untrusting and had fallen into the trap that no one cared about me but themselves.

Loss after loss.

I fell deeper into the abyss. Like a fog that formed a dense wall, hedging me into isolation, that nobody, not even God, could break through. For 6 months I stayed in the dark, never leaving my desolate room, never shaking the bone-deep loneliness. When in truth, I only wanted to be found. I felt suicidal, I wanted my grief of losing my friends to end. Yet, no one reached out. No one tried to break the high walls or climb over it. No one tried to force their way into my life to be with me in the dark. I cried alone in the dark. The man who hurt and broke my heart never even tried to reach out and say sorry for crushing me. I waited for him to apologize, to feel remorse, but he didn't. And it pained me every time I saw photos of my friends hanging out with the person who broke my heart, but was not there for me when I was hurting. It killed me. It killed me, Lord when I watched the people who hurt me being happy without me, while I was undergoing the most horrible pain of my life. God was right when He said that unforgiveness in our hearts will keep tormenting us.

And finally, I reached my breaking point when I lost my cat who was with me at my lowest. No one cared about his loss because he was just a "stray cat", but I did. My cat was my world and my comfort. Now, I felt so alone in this dark, dark world. I forgave them when they lost my cat, but the grief continues to torture me every time I'm reminded that I couldn't remember the last time I embraced him.

Loss after loss.

I want my pain to stop, Lord. I want to die. The enemy whispers to me. I went through the darkness with no one by my side. No light can even seep through that darkness. And my friends gave up on me and disappeared one by one.

Yet one close friend of mine proved me wrong. He stayed with me in the mud. He listened and stood by my side. Even when my depression made me believe that I was worthless and that my darkness would only bring others down, who would want to be around me? My friend did. He never gave up even when I hurt him with my words and actions. Hurt people, Hurt people. He stood strong in the storm. His loyalty was unwavering. He forced himself through my high walls even when I was pushing people away. He wrestled and reached out to me. Just like the comfort and gentleness that I felt from Christ, my friend remained patient with me. He listened to all of my cries, and traumas, that he tried to understand. He said sorry for all the hurt our friends did to me. He even read my favorite book that my other friends wouldn't read. He was the only one who read it, and I was deeply moved by it. I found a friend in him who really cared and I felt connected with him. He shared with me his struggles with his own darkness which compelled me to be there for him too, because I knew the feeling when no one understands. Finally, I had a friend who understood me.

In the dark, someone found me. It was like he was walking towards me with a flashlight in his hand, months of not seeing colors, I saw light for the first time. Through him and my other friends, I felt the comfort of my God who loves me, who sees and cares for me. It gave me the courage to stand and face the world. I gave him my trust, and I believed that he wouldn't betray and leave me like everyone else.

I was wrong.

He hurt me.

Deeply.

I know my friend is entering a new season but it hurts that just like everybody else, he abandoned me. It hurts that it felt like he was discarding our friendship as if the good memories we spent together were just an illusion and nothing to him. It was so unexpected, a week ago we were okay but then unexpectedly he wanted to distance himself — and eventually maybe he'll cut me off (just like my trauma). Was I just a placeholder in his life? That now he wanted to be close with someone else, he would discard me just like that. I thought I was his friend. I know my boundaries but why would he hurt me? He shared empty promises that we would remain friends and still hang out, and yet the moment someone was upset, he would bend the knee for that person and drop our friendship as if I were just nothing to him. He made me feel like I was a nobody. He knows how much I look forward to that hangout with our friends, and yet, I didn't realize it was just nothing to him. I was a nobody to him, all this time. It hurts because he was the last person I least expected would hurt me, but now there's like a shift in my heart as if my view of him has changed.

Once again, Lord, I find myself dying from the inside out, my heart hurts, my chest aches, my head is in chaos, and my body feels like it is going to stop at any moment. I do not want to lose him and my friends, Lord. You know how small my circle of trusted friends is, but I'm losing them as if I have nobody left to be my friend.

It hurts.

It hurts so much Lord. I was there for him. I didn't drop him when he was at his lowest and depressed. I cared and prayed for my friend. I sit with him in his mud. I would try to read books to understand his traumas and hurts so that I could be a better friend to him when no one hears or understands him. So I don't understand why he'd hurt me? Why he was unknowingly willing to lose our friendship? I don't understand what I ever did to deserve such treatment from him! He was breaking my heart for the sake of someone else, and it hurt. It hurts my heart to be seen as something that shouldn't be taken care of.

I trusted him when I didn't want to trust anyone else. I gave him access to my battered heart, but he left it in shatters.

To them, I'm a dumpster of hurts. It makes me feel so unlovable and unworthy. They couldn't comprehend they were crushing my soul. And the light within me completely went out.

Lord, I am hurting so unbearably much, so much Lord that I just want it to stop. My world feels like it's crumbling, I feel like I will shatter any moment.

I love my friends dearly, and I just wanted to be there for them. I want to celebrate their answered prayers and new seasons but instead of feeling like a friend they want to hang out with, one doesn’t find my presence comfortable. I felt like I’m not a friend, but someone they need to be wary of. I felt like they were pushing me away. No matter how many times I share that I don't want to feel excluded, they will exclude me. They make excuses that I'm just not part of their "friend group" or from the South, but not once they ever tried to invite me because they wanted me to be there. The distance doesn't even matter to me, distance doesn't stop me from being with my loved ones. But my words always fall on deaf ears, they would still not invite me. In my years of being friends with them, not once did they ever ask me to hang out. So it hurts, it hurts that they would treat their new friends better than me. It hurts that I no longer matter to them.

Being friends with them makes me feel lonely. Being friends with them destroyed my confidence.

Regardless of this hurt and trauma, I remained loyal. I still love them so much, but every time I feel that they don't want my presence, it kills me. And I fall more into isolation. I'm falling and sinking deeper into the abyss.

But Lord, I don’t want to fall! I don’t want to sink deeper into that darkness. I want to feel and see the light. I want to feel the warmth of your love and mercy upon my soul. I want to feel like a human being and not an empty shell. I want to feel like I have a place that belongs to me. The days of happiness seem to have disappeared and every day I only feel glimpses of happiness before the sorrow takes over.

I am at my breaking point Lord.

I am aching desperately for You.

These sudden onslaughts of thoughts erupted into my head, they rang loudly, I had no choice but to consider them true. As I sat in my desolate room, numbed and staring blankly at my bible. I was caught in the vise grip of depression, hopelessness aptly describes me.

I'd grown accustomed to smiling, saying I was just tired, doing my best to show up for my commitments while my chest burned and my body felt like lead. The worst part was the way secret questions carved out my insides.

God, are you there? Do you really love me?

Why won’t you fix me? Why won't you fill me with joy?

Are my friendships beyond saving?

And the worst of them; God has abandoned me. And there you have it, complete and utter hopelessness. The light that used to be within me that showed in my smile, my love for life, for friends, for family, and my future. That inner light went out. And no one noticed. I was no longer the happy-go-lucky girl or the girl who kept praying for the unknown. The world no longer seems beautiful to me. My world got dimmer and dimmer til my surroundings turned grey.

I became lost in an abyss of darkness and sadness. Happiness and joy were things of the past. I was suddenly paralyzed in fear and anxiety, and my world became a place where I no longer wanted to be; I wanted out.

I no longer have the ability to form friendships; I lost that knack that used to come so easily to me. I didn't allow anyone to get close to me. I'm so scared to get hurt. I'm scared they won't love me at my lowest. My darkness pushed my friends away. Maybe this was all on me.

And yet because of this darkness, I do know one thing;

“The darkness may always be there, but I will always be there in the darkness.”

Clear, sweet words whispered in my heart. My eyes open wide with suddenly welling tears. But it wasn’t sorrow. It was hope, bittersweet, shocking hope.

The darkness exists. It’s okay that it’s there and it’s okay that it’s so hard. God isn't disappointed in me. He’s not tapping his foot and looking at his watch, impatient for me to get it together. He sits with me in the darkness. He says through His word (Psalms 139:8);

“If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.

The heaviness in my chest lifted as I drew a deep breath. “I will always be there in the darkness.” God isn’t afraid of my depression. He doesn’t shrink from the darkness.

God doesn’t lose patience with my pain.

He isn’t uncomfortable when I share dark thoughts, telling me to snap out of it. Nothing I can do, nowhere I can go will ever push Him to abandon me. Instead, God welcomes honesty. He runs toward my pain and questions. I have no encouragement to give when I'm still looking for answers but one thing that I know is I won't bury this pain. I'll stop hiding from God. I will cling unto Him come Hell or high water. I know to press my face into His clothes and breathe in deep. When the bony hands of anxiety choke my throat or my chest is filled with the burn of depression, I will lean to Him and listen.

I'm in the dark right now. Sitting. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

I cannot see the light. But I want to believe that He's with me.

In the depression.

In the darkness.

In the gnawing anxiety.

And He always will be.

Even till the end.

"And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age" (Matthew 18:20)

#christian blog #mental health #depression tw #god #christian faith #hope in the dark #hope in god

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