#cos we have a session in like 1½ week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slut4thebroken · 2 years ago

Text

Exposure Therapy pt. 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Your therapist tries a new method of treatment to help you with your fears.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, rape, non con, dub con, oral, p in v sex, fingering, fear play, crying, rape (again. I’m really emphasizing this lol), forced breeding, unprotected sex, threats of involuntary admission to asylum

Words | 3k

Notes | This is rape. Just straight up. Sure she’s attracted to him and trying not to think of it like that but it’s literally just rape. Final warning.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Prologue

You had been meeting with Dr. Crane for a few weeks now. You were mostly just talking, sometimes he’d have you try something to start to get you more comfortable living normally. But the progress was slow overall.

“There is another form of treatment we could try.” He suggested, setting his pen down on the notebook and giving you his full attention.

“If you think it’ll help.” You shrugged.

“Do you know what exposure therapy is?”

“Um… yeah. But isn’t that for phobias of bugs or heights?”

“Usually, yes. But those aren’t the only types of fear this technique can help with.”

“Oh… I’m not sure I understand, Dr. Crane.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“In our first session you told me it feels like you’re living everyday waiting to become part of the statistic.”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re already part of the statistic, do you think you’ll still feel that way?”

“Um… I guess not? I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” He set his notebook and pen down on the coffee table, then stood up, making his way to the empty side of the couch as you stared at him in confusion.

“You’re lucky you came to me, you know. Most doctors don’t care enough to try everything possible to help their patients.” You gave a small smile in response, not able to talk before he continued. “In order for this to work you need to trust me completely, can you do that?”

“Yes, but I’m still not sure what it is you’re doing.” He stared at you for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh and taking off his glasses. He set them on the table, then met your gaze again.

“Studies show that patients who relive traumatic experiences in controlled environments can actually better overcome that trauma. Now in your case it’s slightly different because your fears were not born out of trauma, but I still think it can help.” He paused as he debated what to say next.

“With the kinks you’ve indulged in already, the environment might have been a little too controlled.” You furrowed your brows, trying to understand. “Putting you in a situation that is controlled, just not by you, should be effective.” He said, placing a hand on your thigh.

“Dr. Crane, what-“ He shushed you, slowly rubbing his hand up and down your thigh, each time getting closer to your skirt.

“You know, I thought about doing this at your house- maybe wear a mask so you didn’t know it was me. But that wouldn’t be controlled enough. So I knew it had to be here.” He said quietly, an unnerving smile on his lips. “With someone you trust.” When he slowly started leaning forward, you moved back until you were laying on the couch with him hovering above you.

“There’s nothing to be frightened of- I’m no heathen. This isn’t about committing a violent act against a defenseless woman, it’s about helping you work through your fears. I have every intention of making sure you can take me comfortably.” He maneuvered himself between your legs, your skirt rising as they parted. Your eyes widened at his words, finally understanding.

“I don’t- I don’t think I want to try this treatment.” You whimpered, shrinking back into the couch.

“You don’t know what you want. That’s why you’re here. If you knew how to help yourself, you wouldn’t have come to me.” He pawed at your clothes, pushing your cropped sweater up, then pulling your bra down beneath your breasts.

“If you behave, I can make this more comfortable for you. But if not, I’ll have to just get right to it, do you understand?” Your bottom lip quivered as you stared at him with wide, frightened, unable to move or speak. “Answer me.” He growled, making you flinch at the harsh tone.

“Y-yes.”��

“Good.” He said simply, leaning down to take your nipple in his mouth. You laid there frozen, trembling beneath him, but despite your fear, you couldn’t deny the fact that what he was doing felt good. Maybe if this was someone else, someone you weren’t attracted to, then it’d be easier for your body to understand that this scenario was supposed to be bad. When his teeth lightly nipped at the sensitive bud, your breath hitched, making him pull back with a smirk.

“That’s it, see? Just let it happen and it’ll feel good.” He moved on to your other nipple, working it over in his mouth until he was satisfied. He pulled back with a wet pop and looked up at you through his lashes.

He moved down your body, but because of the small couch, decided to kneel on the floor. When he pulled you forward so your hips were on the edge, the movement caused your skirt to get stuck between the cushion and your ass, raising it even more, making your cheeks heat up. Your blush intensified as he pushed the fabric up until it rested around your waist.

“Shorts.” He said quietly to himself, placing his hands on your hips and tracing his thumbs over the fabric. “Do you wear this because you think this will help?” He asked, looking back at your face. You nodded silently, making his lips turn up in a small smirk. “Because of your obsession with statistics, you should know that clothing choices do not deter rapists.” He said, raising his brows questioningly.

“I know… it just makes me feel better.”

“So desperate for some semblance of control over your fears.” He chuckled quietly, making you frown in response. When he started pulling your shorts down, you grabbed his wrists. The look he gave you made you tremble even more, but you quickly relaxed your grip, letting him continue.

“Do something like that again and I'll skip this part, do you understand?”

“Please,” You whispered, holding back tears as he removed your shorts. “Please don’t do this.” You said through a sob when he reached for your underwear. He ignored you, pulling the fabric off your body and discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. You jolted when he suddenly swiped two fingers through your folds.

“See, you beg me not to, but you’re soaked. Is that why you’re so afraid? Because you know you’ll like it?” You clenched your eyes with a quiet sob and shook your head. When wet heat engulfed your clit, you choked on a gasp. He started out slow, licking and sucking delicately. You tried to control your hips and not let them buck toward the pleasure, but trying to do that as well as control your sounds proved to be a difficult feat.

It felt good. Honestly you’re not sure you’ve ever been eaten out this good in your life. He was almost as passionate about it as he was with his work. When he plunged two fingers into your drooling hole, you couldn’t help the low whine you let out. He looked up at you through his lashes, smirking against your sex.

Maybe if you just think of this as you finally getting to fuck the man who’s been plaguing your every thought for the past few weeks, then it won’t be as bad. After all, he did say he had no intention of making this painful for you. So it wouldn’t be too hard to think of this in a different light.

“You don’t seem scared anymore. Have you finally accepted it or is there another reason?” He asked, still curling his fingers against your walls.

“Maybe you’re dissociating to cope. Unfortunately if that’s the case… I am going to have to get you out of that state so you can experience the full extent of this treatment.” You stared at him almost blankly, trying desperately to not focus on his words.

“If this behavior persists in future sessions though, I might have to put you on antipsychotics.” That got your attention.

“Future sessions?” You all but scoffed, quickly closing your mouth after speaking to keep the sounds in.

“Yes, I’ll need to monitor you closely after this treatment. I think three meetings a week should be sufficient.” You swallowed down a whimper when his thumb started circling your clit, then forced yourself to respond.

“You seriously think I’m coming back here?” He swiftly removed his fingers, making you release a choked sound.

“If that’s the case, I’m afraid I’ll have to admit you.” He said, casually wiping your arousal off his fingers on your skirt.

“Admit me?”

“To Arkham Asylum.” He said simply.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Honestly, did you do any research before moving here?”

“N-no. I couldn’t afford to live anywhere else…” You muttered. He hummed in acknowledgement and stood up.

“Arkham Asylum is a psychiatric hospital in Gotham City, primarily housing the criminally insane. I am the acting chief psychiatrist there.” He shrugged off his jacket, placing it over the coffee table.

“I’m not criminally insane.” You said skeptically, rising to a sitting position just in case you’ll have an opportunity to run.

“No? That’s not what my diagnosis tells me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You spat, feeling your heart pound harder in your chest.

“Maybe you weren’t criminally insane when we first started our sessions. But yesterday you went through something traumatic that triggered a psychotic break, causing you to try to harm me during our meeting today.” You stared at him in shock, too caught off guard to say anything. “Which is why I’ve deemed you a threat to yourself and others and recommend immediate hospitalization for psychiatric evaluation.”

“You’re fucking insane.” You whispered, not sure what else to say.

“I’m simply a doctor who’s dedicated to studying the effects of fear on the human mind. And I have to say, I am very excited to study yours.”

“So- what, you’re just going to have me committed? As soon as I have the evaluation I’m going to tell them everything.” He let out a dark chuckle and gave you a knowing look.

“Truly brilliant plan. I’m looking forward to seeing how it works out when I evaluate you.” Any and all confidence or leverage you might’ve had was gone in an instant.

“Then… I- I’ll say I want someone else.” You said quietly.

“Were you not listening when I said I’m the chief psychiatrist there? I'm the one who decides who evaluates you.”

“But- that’s a conflict of interest.” He smirked as you floundered for a suitable threat.

“That’s the beauty of Gotham. Everyone and everything here is corrupt. No one cares if there’s a conflict of interest.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling trapped and out of options. “But don’t worry, I won’t start my research until you’re officially a patient. Today is just about your treatment.”

He was on you before you could even blink, pinning you down by your neck with one hand, the other opening his pants just enough to take his cock out. As you clawed at his arm and his face, you realized the consequences of anxiously picking at your nails- they did nothing to harm him.

“No-“ You cried, trying to push him away when the blunt head of his cock bushed your slit. “Stop- Help!” You yelled, making him tighten his grip on your neck and push down on your windpipe.

“No one can hear you so shut up.” He hissed, pushing his hips forward. Your body tensed at the pressure against your hole. When his length finally pushed in, you tried to let out a pained scream, but the only noise you could make was a pathetic squeak. He let out a low groan, closing his eyes with furrowed brows and opening his mouth in a silent moan.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He said through a moan. He continued pushing in until his hips were flush with your body. The pressure on your cervix was almost unbearable and you silently begged him to not stay here long. “You’re so wet. Why is that?” His voice was strained as he tried to control his arousal. His grip loosened on your neck and you took in a huge breath, then started coughing.

“Fuck you.” You rasped, throat a little sore.

“I always love the mouthy ones. Makes it all the more satisfying when they break.” He sneered. You sighed in relief as the pressure on your cervix decreased while he slowly pulled out. But as he slammed back in, you weren’t sure what hurt more: the pressure on your cervix or the burning stretch of your walls. His pace picked up quickly until he was pounding your abused hole relentlessly, even with your cries and pleads for him to stop. He shushed you, gently brushing your hair behind your ear, making you flinch away from his touch.

“Calm down. It’ll feel good once you relax.” He said, almost annoyed. You cried silently, arms laying limp by your sides after trying unsuccessfully to push him away for several minutes. You just wanted to get it over with.

“Fuck- this pussy feels good. When you’re locked away, I’m going to make sure we have daily sessions to continue your treatment.” You let out a choked sob and shook your head.

“No,” You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks, making him buck his hips even faster. “No- please.” You whimpered.

“Yeah. It’s not effective as a one time thing. This kind of treatment needs to be done regularly, in fact, we might have to have more than one session a day.” You sobbed silently, trying to just dissociate again or something- anything. But the brutal pounding of his cock made it hard to focus on anything else.

“I forgot to tell you- this treatment isn’t only for your fear of being raped.” You stared at him blankly as you processed his words, eyes widening once you understood.

“No-“ You said, much more assertive this time. But he was not deterred.

“Yes.” He growled, rutting into you animalistically as he chased his pleasure. “I’m gonna come in this tight little cunt and you’re going to take every drop.”

“No!” Your arms were active again, desperately working to push him away.

“If you behave and be a good little inmate, then maybe I’ll let you keep taking birth control.”

“Please,” You choked out, “Please don’t do this, Dr. Crane.” You cried, feeling the knot of arousal in your stomach, despite your words.

“As hot as the begging is, if you keep running that little fuck hole, I will take away your contraceptive privileges.” You had no reason to not believe him, so you obeyed, only letting out violent sobs. “That’s better. Good girl.” He groaned, putting a hand back on your neck. His hips snapped into you ruthlessly, your hole aching out of discomfort and desperation and your breasts moving embarrassingly with each thrust, adding to your shame. When he reached a hand down to your clit, you muttered out a quiet, “No,” and shook your head.

“I know you’re about to come. Just give in.” His fingers rubbed fast circles over it, making your hips twitch from the friction. And he was right. You were about to come, especially now that he was stimulating your clit. You tried to hold it, to not let yourself give him an obvious display of your unwanted pleasure, but it was useless. You came with a cry, this one more like a moan than a sob. His hips stuttered as your walls convulsed around him, but he never stopped thrusting.

After you finished, he removed his fingers and focused on his own orgasm, not needing much more before burying himself inside you, uncomfortably deep. Your sobbing intensified as you felt hot come coating your walls.

“Fuck- that’s it. Take it- take my come. Right in your fucking womb.” He growled, reaching a hand down to press on your lower stomach. “Can you feel how deep I am? Can you feel me right up against your cervix? You’re gonna have no choice but to get pregnant. Maybe not today… But I am going to knock you up eventually.” You let out a broken cry, laying completely still beneath him.

After coming down from his orgasm, he slowly dragged his cock out of you, then forced your legs open to watch his come leak out of your abused hole. He pushed it back in with a small smirk.

“We don’t want to waste any.” He explained. When he was satisfied, he rose from the couch, tucking himself back in his pants, then walked over to his desk. You watched through hazy eyes, blurry with unshed tears, as he searched for something.

I should try to run now, you thought. He’s distracted, I can probably do it. But your body could barely obey. With much effort, you rose to a seated position, trying to ready your wobbly legs to hold you up. Before you could though, he was already walking back to you, one hand pushing you back on the couch, the other behind his back. He clumsily righted your clothes as you laid there, defeated. When he brought his other hand up from behind his back, you stiffened at the sight of a syringe.

“What is that?” You muttered, trying to push yourself away from him, further into the couch.

“A sedative. Someone is going to pick you up and take you to a holding room. I should be there to evaluate you by the time you wake up.” You shook your head as your heart started pounding in your chest again.

“No- no, please. Please, I don't want to go.” You whimpered, flinching back when he grabbed your cheeks and turned your head to the side. Before you could react, the needle was already puncturing your skin. “Please don’t. I don’t wanna go.” You slurred, eyes growing heavy, and he shushed you gently.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Part 2

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #exposure therapy #crying #jonathan crane smut

678 notes · View notes

adalricus · 1 year ago

Text

Infatuated with you (pt.2)

Cw: mafia themes, yandere themes stalking, coercion, power abuse, non-consented surveillance, kidnapping, totally not proofread

Pt.1. Pt. 3

It had been a few weeks since you'd gotten into your current ... situation. It's safe to say you've met your fair share of people and persolities so far like...

Mi-Young Allison who was a Korean-american and your co-model, she was calm and always seemed to have something going on in her head then she would lead on. You asked what her name meant and it was truly suitable for her. She always seemed to be where you are, but you felt you had something on your chest around her. Suddenly one day you broke down and told her everything "Love you wouldn't understand why our boss does this, why we do this." When she said that you finally connected the dots, this whole agency was a front to make more money and she was a apart of it you tried to move away from her but she grabbed you. She was oddly strong and held you to her body."My lovely, maybe all the people here won't blatantly show how much they love you. I care about you and so does everyone here. More over there's no way any of us are letting you go, not ever."

Then you met a man by the name Jean Dubois who was happy so happy it was almost scary. He was the secretary " g'morning (y/n), how are you?" He asked as gleefully as usual "I'm fine, tired as all what about you?" You replied "I'm honestly elated now that you're her darling, oh and the boss is back in town tomorrow he wants to review all your photoshoots and finally meet you, so be prepared for my darling." He smiled before letting the photographer know you were there, as you walked to the designated photography room you felt your heart sink. You couldn't imagine meeting the boss

You opened the door to the room and saw your photographer Lukas Madison. Who was stoic and a man of few words. "Good morning Lukas." You greeted him "Morning" he said dryly "Sit down so we can get started." He was always so sweet during your sessions, and gently when repositioning you.

Your days felt longer than how long they actually were. You were always scared to go home so you took usually trips to your local coffee shop and sat there scrolling on on your phone eating your favorite pastry and drinking your favorite drink. "Hello are you (f/n)(l/n)?" You heard a deep voice say before looking up to see a tall man in a business suit "Y-yes why?" You replied, he sat down right after you said that "(y/n) my name is Victor Florence, I'm the CEO of your agency. I'm sure you have heard people refer to me as the boss. I don't have much time so I'd like to have a dinner with you later tonight. A chauffer will pick you, before you ask yes I do know where you live. Be ready by 8:00 pm." After he said that he got up and left. You decided to go home after the whole ordeal in disbelief. Know you had to have dinner with the man behind all of this. You can't seem to stop digging your grave can you?

#soft yandere #tw yandere #platonic yandere #male yandere x you #yandere #female yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #character x reader #male yandere x reader

168 notes · View notes

jedijesi · 1 year ago

Text

Caught in the Cat's Web

Chapter 1

Felicia Hardy! Reader x Miguel O’Hara

Series Masterlist 🕸 Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, Sexual Tension, she/her pronouns

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Felicia Hardy, Black Cat, endures a nasty breakup with Peter Parker, and now with her new Spider-Powers, she must navigate the Spider society and meet their esteemed leader.

Co-writer: @stclairesplace

A/N: This a Felecia Hardy Self Insert, beyond her classic platinum hair color, no descriptive terms are used! Insert yourselves, loves! This is my first Miguel fic, enjoy!

New York, Earth-194

“No, Peter! I- I can’t keep fighting for us if you’re just gonna run back to MJ every time!” Felicia sobbed.

“We were just talking about our relationship!” Peter yells in defense.

Felicia's hands come up to her forehead, smoothing out her platinum hair back in frustration. “You said it was over, Peter! You don’t need to continue to talk to her, especially not at 8:30 on a Friday in a restaurant! The same restaurant you took me to last week, by the way, for our 6 month anniversary!”

“It doesn’t matter, Felicia! Nothing happened!” Peter runs his fingers through his hair pacing back and forth in frustration.

“No! You- you lied to me, you told me you didn’t have feelings for her anymore.” Felicia breaks out into more tears, blinding her. “I don’t want to be ‘the other woman’ anymore, Peter. I won’t be. I can’t keep waiting for you, hoping you’ll finally look at me the way you look at MJ. I’m done.”

Before Peter could say another word, the sound of Felicia’s grappling hook cut him off. In an instant, Felicia goes back into her Black Cat persona, swinging through the New York Skyline.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been 3 weeks since the breakup. 3 weeks of crying, ice cream, and pajamas. Felicia had never taken a breakup hard, she’d always known her worth, but something about Peter Parker was different. It made no sense as to why it hurt so much. She’s been cheated on before, she’s watched partners come and go, but she was able to brush it off like it was nothing. Then stupid Peter Parker had to come and along, turn her into a hero, and break her heart.

By habit, the sound of sirens outside her apartment causes her to pause her show, and look at the Black Cat suit hidden behind the painting next to the window.

Felicia sighs, unable to decide if she should cry or scream. Ultimately, she decided to continue eating her ice cream, pushing the images of Spider-Man somewhere out there fighting crime.

Despite pushing her feelings away, a tear escapes her, sliding down her cheek. Suddenly, chills go down Felicia’s spine. She looks around the quiet apartment trying to figure out what was happening when her tear begins to slide back up her cheek and into the air. The empty pint and spoon along with various items follow suit, prompting Felicia to grab the gun and knife hidden under the couch.

A bright light emits in the middle of the living room, transforming into a colorful circular object. Felicia’s guard falls, recognizing the multi-dimensional portal.

“Woah! What’s with the guns?” Jessica Drew, questions as she emerges.

“You could have given me a heads up instead of scaring the shit out of me.” Felicia rolls her eyes before putting her weapons away.

“I told you, I’d come pick you up in a month.”

Felicia’s eyes widened in surprise. “It’s been a month since I’ve last seen you?!”

“Ahuh,” Jessica responds as she inspects the apartment. “Has it been a month since you’ve cleaned too?”

“Uh- 3 weeks, actually.”

Jessica whips her head around. “3 weeks?! What the fuck happened, girl!”

Felicia rolls her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Honestly, she didn’t have to. Jessica could see right through the broken-hearted girl. “You ready to go then?”

“I don’t think I can meet the boss man like this.” Felicia frowns, looking down at her oversized tee shirt stained with ice cream and various mysterious stains from her wallowing sessions.

Jessica nods, “Shower and change. I’ll help you clean up this shit.”

It took about an hour for Felicia to clean up and feel like herself again. After putting on her Black Catsuit, she looks into the mirror, smiling for the first time in 3 weeks, feeling like herself again.

Felicia emerges from her bedroom, finding Jessica standing in the middle of her cleaned-up apartment. ��Holy shit, Jess!” She feels like she could cry.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, hon, let’s go or I'll get a lecture.” Jessica hastily as she creates the portal.

Felicia’s been through multi-dimensional portals a few times before, but it’s still something she can barely get used to.

~~~~~~

Nueva York, Earth 838

Nueva York was bustling with life as heroes of the spider society swung and walked around. Felicia felt both excited and overwhelmed. It was hard walking into a world full of people who dressed, talked, and looked like her ex.

“Cat!” Jessica shouted across the hall to the distracted woman, pulling her out of her trance. “Move!”

Felicia scurried across the main hall, doing her best to weave between spider people. Once she caught up to Jessica, they made their way to the ‘big man’s office’ as Jessica puts it.

The two women entered the dark, grand office. Felicia spots a platform about 20 feet in the air with dozens of holographic screens filled with information and statistics. In the center stood the back of a blue and red man.

“Ahem!” LYLA appeared next to the tall man. “Your newest recruit is here.”

The platform slowly lowers but the man doesn't move. Instead, he touches the holographic screens, causing Felicia’s profile to appear.

“Felicia Hardy?”

Felicia was taken aback by his voice. She didn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t that. It’s a low, resonant tone that fills the air and commands respect and attention. It has a subtle vibration that conveys confidence and strength, and it's a sound that Felicia finds attractive and comforting. His voice has the power to evoke emotion and stir feelings of comfort and security.

Jessica nudges the woman beside her, yanking Felicia from her thoughts. “Yes, Sir.” She purrs, easing back into the Felicia Hardy she knows and loves.

“According to my data, you’re the first spider woman.” The platform touches the ground prompting the man to turn to look at Felicia.

She couldn’t help but admire the man’s build and height, thinking that the elevated perspective had made him appear bigger. “The one and only.” She smirks.

“Hmm…” The man thinks for a moment, admiring the beautiful woman in front of him. He’s seen and read about plenty of Felicia’s as they have been a big part in some Spider-Man’s lives. Yet, this Felicia seemed different. Her eyes sparkled and the way she carried herself radiated confidence. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Spider-man 2099, my name is Miguel O’Hara.” Miguel closes some distance, letting his mask retract to reveal his messy wavy head and stunning brown eyes.

“Felica.” She replies, making intense eye contact with the man.

Miguel slowly walks closer and begins to circle her like a vulture, studying his prey. “ According to your file, you only got your powers several months ago. Explain.”

“Long story short, my… Spider-Man and I infiltrated Oscorp. They were trying to replicate the serum and I ended up getting accidentally bit by one of their patients during the fight, but they’re all dead now, don’t worry.”

“Hmmm..” Miguel hummed as he inspected her suit. “Is this your spider suit?”

“I don’t need one.” Felicia crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at the Spider-Man.

“If you want to join the spider society you do. What’s your call sign?”

“Black Cat.” Felicia side-eyes Miguel, predicting his thoughts.

“Jess,” Miguel looks over to the woman, now sitting in the corner. “Why waste my time?”

“Waste your time?!” Felicia snaps, turning to look at Miguel. “You need me!”

“Ahuh.” He rolls his eyes as his mask covers his face, unleashing Felicia's three weeks of pent-up rage.

“Listen here Spider-Man! I spent 4 months training my ass off, learning my powers, and proving to your little spider society that I’m worthy. I am not going to let you circle me and make assumptions about me based on my outfit and variants! I’ll fight you right now, and I’ll kick your ass!”

Miguel can’t help but make a small smirk at Felicia’s personality. Miguel steps closer tilting his head down so that his chin practically grazes his collarbone and lets his mask fade. Felica stands her ground looking directly up into his chocolate eyes with fiery determination. She wasn’t going to let some self-appointed leader tell her she wasn’t good enough.

Meanwhile, in the corner of the office, Jessica and LYLA watch the interaction with confusion. “What the fuck is happening?”

“I- I really can’t tell you.” LYLA replies. “There’s something there though.” LYLA pulls out her phone taking a picture of the two for future evidence or blackmail before glitching away.

Still withholding their gazes on each other Miguel eventually snaps out of it only to grumble. “LYLA, take Felicia to the tailor to make a suit.”. A short smirk makes it’s way on Felicia’s face, silently congratulating herself that she got her way. “We’ll start your training with the other spiders tomorrow morning. Bright and early. As for you ‘Black Cat’ let’s get one thing straight here…” Felicia raises her eyebrow in anticipation, her arms crossed over her chest, her cleavage poking through just enough in the black skin-tight suit adorning her body. “You may be used to playing by your own rules and whatnot but here, this is my playground. And what I say, goes.” He leans back against the small table behind him, his arms now also crossed over his chest, making it hard for Felicia not to notice the way his biceps and arms moved with each breath he took. “Do I make myself clear, gata?”

Felicia unfolds her arms and takes a step closer to Miguel, squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “Yes, Araña.”

“And start thinking of new names,” Miguel said before walking back to his desk with a smirk.

Chapter 2

A/N: Its good to be back! Please let me know what you think💕

#miguel ohara x felicia hardy reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #felicia hardy #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara smut #Miguel Ohara x female reader #jedi jesi #miguel ohara

116 notes · View notes

silverjirachi · 10 months ago

Note

How were you a cult leader for a week?

Okay so this is going to be a looooonnnggg story and I never even really sat back and thought about how batshit insane it was until I started talking about it with other people. Which is more recently than you'd expect for the fact that it took place over ten years ago. But back then I also didn't have the life experience to see how.. weird and creepy it was until well, well afterwards.

Another thing that contributed to the fact that I never really thought or spoke about it because that was actually a core tenant of the program. If you talk about it, you're ruining the "sacredness" of the experience if someone else might go through it. So you gotta keep it secret so it's not spoiled for them. Which was a way bigger deal at my school than it now is like, out in the wild. And when I said that first part out loud "So like, oh! I'm not actually supposed to talk about this, BUT" I realized this was some cult shit.

Like I said, long story so I'm gonna put it under a cut for people who wanna read.

Alright so. This story begins at my co-ed Catholic high school. Each year as part of our like, religious enrichment, we went on "retreats" or missions to different areas locally. Freshmen didn't have one, though their was like 1 day of service out in the community. (We went to a retirement home and passed out valentine's cards all day if memory serves).

Sophomores and Juniors got to participate in the more coveted, multiple-day religious retreats that were school-sponsored excuses to get out of school. And they were mandatory, even if you were not Catholic.

What's important to know about these retreats is that they were FAMOUS at our school. They were surrounded with so much mystique, hype, and infamy. People spread rumors about them. People spread lies about them. People spread gossip about who did what with such and such during these retreats. One common, straight-faced lie that almost ALL seniors told about the Senior Retreat was that you all "got naked and danced around a fire" (this will be relevant later). The Naked Fire Dance was like a schoolwide JOKE about this very famous, very infamous senior retreat called Kairos.

What added to this hype, particularly around Kairos, is that once you completed it, you got this special (though rather plain-looking) cross that was given out at the end of the retreat. ALL the seniors who had been through Kairos wore them, EVERY DAY, and groups of students were taken on retreats in groups of 40-50, so not the whole class got them at once. It was like a gradual progression watching these crosses appear around peoples' necks. And like, they got to miss ALMOST A FULL WEEK OF SCHOOL. Come on now. That's amazing.

I actually broke down crying when my own Kairos cross broke during band practice and my percussion instructor fixed it for me. That's how important these things were, both as an emotional AND a status symbol. Wearing a Kairos cross was on an equal level with having a class ring - if you wore one, you had MADE IT.

So I was naturally STOKED when I discovered I was selected to take part in Kairos at the end of my JUNIOR YEAR rather than my senior year. Looking back on it, this absolutely was not random. Kairos retreats were split into different dates for a very particular purpose, and that was to make sure there was always a fresh influx of students to become the next set of "leaders" on these retreats. The first round of Kairos actually began in May or June of the respective class's JUNIOR YEAR so that there would be some classmates to lead the next Kairos that would begin in the proper senior year in the fall. I was selected for this first session because they ABSOLUTELY had already scouted me out as a potential leader and wanted to make sure I had the chance to. I had good grades in religion, participation in church, etc, and kind of had a reputation for it.

Funnily enough, these were all numbered, and I was on Kairos 68. I led Kairos 69, which they changed to Kairos 70. Do the kids these day know? Do they even know their whole numbering system is off because their school refused to allow Kairos 69 to exist?

BUT WHEN ARE WE GETTING TO THE CULT SHIT? Ok. We'll get into the cult shit now.

So the first thing to know about these retreats and therefore also Kairos is that they take place in the middle of the woods. They're at a spiritual retreat center led by some monks about 30-40 minutes away from the school. So you are ISOLATED in what is essentially a large cabin but feels more like a retirement home. Everyone gets their own tiny little room that basically only had a bed, a dresser, and your own sink in it.

They take you into this cabin in the middle of the woods and of course you have to give up all your electronics. Your phone is confiscated from you if they find you have brought it, etc. Not only this, but then you find that they have covered up all the clocks. So you start to develop this immediate sense of restlessness and time blindness because all the clocks are covered with a white sheet and a sign that says "GOD'S TIME." Your entire day structure and even sense of TIME are now at the mercy of the cult leaders, excuse me, I mean student leaders and teacher chaperones on the retreat.

There are no parents here. It's just about fifty 17 to 18 year olds and about 7 teachers. And about 6 student "group leaders" who had a very, very central and important role in the whole event.

What essentially happened was for the next 4 days, we sat in this group conference room at round tables listening to talks and having breakout discussions about Jesus all day. Church in the morning and evening. You got max like, 1, maybe 2 hours of free time after lunch. Literally just living that #monasterylife. But there was something very... particular... about these talks that are things I definitely do not think go down at a monastery.

Each day, a handful of the teachers and student group leaders gave talks surrounded a particular topic or theme of the day. I can't remember all of them, but they'd be things like Piety, and Service, and Charity, and Forgiveness, etc. Christian values. Each talk had a name centered around a particular value. Mine was Piety.

The thing about these talks though, is that they were incredibly, deeply, invasively personal.

Now, I'm going to be upfront and say no one was forced to go up there and spill the deepest darkest secrets of their life. All the student leaders had signed up for this KNOWING they'd be asked to write an incredibly personal sermon on their assigned topic. But there is something addictive about that cult mentality when everyone is getting up on that pulpit oversharing well, you wanna spill your whole life story too. (However, we'll get back to some insider secrets about this later).

TW next paragraphs off-hand but not graphically mentioning suicide, suicidal ideation, self harm and cutting, domestic abuse, etc.

Teachers went up there and talked about their marriages and divorces and how such things brought them closer to God. About how their drunken fathers beat them. Student leaders got up there and gave talks about their suicide attempts or being abused and how being saved from these things brought them closer to god. I learned the intimate ups and downs of my teachers' and fellow classmates' lives in a way I NEVER thought I would and it would all be wrapped up in a little lesson about god. They'd play a little meaningful song of the speaker's choice before and after the sermon to set the scene and help everyone reflect and pray. Mine were Uncharted by Sara Bareilles and The Unwinding Cable Car by Anberlin. Very deep and meaningful stuff to me at age 17.

As the week progresses and the students drink more of the kool-aid, the participant students are even allowed to go up and say a few words too. And I am not kidding when I say each night there would be at least 1-2 confessions of suicidal ideation or suicide attempts, a handful of mentions of cutting or self harm, and a handful of mentions of actively being abused, even in relationships with other students not on the retreat.

No trigger warnings because this was like 2012 and those were only JUST becoming a thing.

Now, looking back on it now as someone who has taught middle and high schoolers, I can only say: WHaT THE HELL? Teachers absolutely were not required to report these confessions, and I think actively were encouraged not to. I know for a fact student leaders were not supposed to report anything. Because it was supposed to be a safe space where people could say anything. To know someone might take action outside that world would violate the sacred trust we were building with one another, and the closeness we were getting to god. People could reach out to someone individually after the retreat, but unlike in a lot of other cases where it would be MANDATORY for an adult to report certain things, no such enforcement here existed. As a teen, that seemed awesome. As an adult who has taught and looked after children now, I am horrified. I know it's a complicated nuanced topic, but holy hell batman.

And as a 17-year-old retreat leader, I felt responsible for my flock. One girl confessed to me about her mom who was being actively abusive, and I, at the tender age of 17, was suddenly put in a position where I felt like I had to do something for her. I'M NOT EQUIPPED TO DEAL WITH THAT!! I'M SEVENTEEN!!! But she confided in me and now I wanna support her in any way I can. I went over to her house several times after that retreat and honestly almost got myself into some horrible, dangerous situations because I felt like I was obligated to because we had shared this soul-baring bond at Kairos. I TOLD NO ONE. I GOT HELP FROM NO ADULT ON THIS.

BUT THESE TALKS WEREN'T EVEN THE ONLY WILD AND WACKY THINGS THAT HAPPENED THAT WEEK!!

One of the other biggest events at Kairos was "letters night." This happens on like the second night of the retreat when all 50 teenagers are herded into a dark room lit only by a few candles and sit in silence for a few minutes. We're all sitting there wondering what's going on. Then, all of a sudden, one of our teachers starts reading a letter addressed to someone. At the end of the letter, it's revealed its from a parent or loved one of at student in the room. They're called up to receive their letter and a hug of comfort if they want it, because of course half of us are sobbing at this point. This goes on for all fifty students in the room. Each of us gets a deeply personal letter from our parents or loved ones about our life stories read in front of forty-nine of our other peers. I can't even imagine how this must have felt for someone without loving parents, but they made it work so everyone had a meaningful letter read aloud.

After that LONG, LONG process, we do one final meditation and are led back to our rooms for sleep. It is then we discover BOATLOADS of letters from other students that have been dumped all over our rooms and our beds. Letters of love, encouragement, well-wishes. Confessions of love or admiration. Letters of apology. Truly anything your upperclassmen friends, relatives, or others might want to write about you. The letters night is kept INCREDIBLY secret and is actually one of the reasons I never talked about Kairos. Because, as personal as it is, it was also an incredibly powerful, formative moment for me. It made me feel more loved and more valued as a person who made a difference on this earth than anything else in my life at that point, and I hung on to my Kairos letters for a very long time afterwards. And the not knowing anything, the surprise of it all really contributed to that. It was like getting hit with a truck with nothing but sheer love, especially at a time in my life when I felt worthless and unwanted and was, myself, actively considering suicide. Writing letters to my group members and friends going on Kairos was my favorite part of the whole process.

And then there was. The moment you have all been waiting for. THE NAKED FIRE DANCE.

Now, thankfully, this was not an actual naked fire dance. But the joke was at last revealed. It is called the naked fire dance, because it is at this point that THE STUDENT LEADERS, and ONLY the students leaders, NO TEACHERS, take their small flock back UNSUPERVISED into these small breakout rooms and they have... the naked fire dance. All the lights are off. It's the middle of the night. The small room is lit only with one candle, and everyone sits in a circle as the teenage cult leader starts with a single prayer. Then she opens up the floor. Now all the students, heart to heart, sit around this single candle for the next hour sharing secrets about themselves. Confessing things to each other. It's called the naked fire dance because you "take off your masks" (aka "get naked) in a circle around "a fire" (candle).

Again, this was an incredibly moving and formative experience for me. I was in a group with jocks, cheerleaders, people I'd NEVER interact with normally. And I felt so loved and connected to them. But that's a big component about how cults work. They feel good!!

Then, you all go back for one final group prayer and are released to bed. The next morning is the 4th day where they do some wrapping up, and you find out the whole retreat is structured around Jesus' 3 day death or whatever. And then you, on the 4th day - rise again. You live the fourth!! And you also talk about it to no one. Ever. That is a very important component of Living the 4th: Don't you dare fucking talk about it.

You go back to the school on a bus for your parents to pick you up and you are led into the chapel for one "final prayer" it's then that you are stampeded at down the hallway by all the other students who have already been through Kairos. That was also very special, like the letters moment. Just a WALL of over a hundred other teenagers running straight for you screaming. My boyfriend was there and picked me up and spun me around it was really sweet and nice. Trainwreck of love.

AND NOW FOR SOME INSIDER KNOWLEDGE FROM SOMEONE WHO SPENT A WEEK AS A CULT LEADER STUDENT DISCUSSION LEADER:

Every night after we'd send the students to bed, all the teachers and student leaders would convene in this other, side cabin like a high council. It was there that we'd review how the day went, how our breakout and small group discussions went, things we were observing in our flock student group, things we wanted advice and guidance on, etc. They were nice meetings. We'd have snacks. It'd be fun etc.

BUT. MY FAVORITE PART OF THESE MEETINGS. WE'D TALK ABOUT OUR NEXT TARGETS. WE'D TALK ABOUT WHO IN OUR GROUPS WE THOUGHT WAS CLOSE TO "BREAKING." AKA OPENING UP TO BARE THEIR SOUL AND CONNECT TO THE OTHER STUDENTS. TO LIKE. SPILL ALL THEIR BEANS.

WE WOULD DISCUSS STRATEGIES TO HELP BREAK THEM.

"Oh yeah I think letters night tomorrow is gonna break Chris enough to open up at the naked fire dance."

"Kelsey is SO CLOSE to getting there I think she'll break through tomorrow morning."

"Yeah I think Ryan just needs his space but I can tell he'll come around so we'll not push we'll just gently continue to offer."

HELLO???

I'M SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD AND IN A ROOMFUL OF OTHER STUDENTS AND MY TEACHERS TALKING ABOUT HOW TO PSYCHOLOGICALLY MANIPULATE OTHER STUDENTS INTO SHARING SECRETS ABOUT THEMSELVES???

And again, never even thought that was weird or culty until now. Just thought I was helping my fellow students get the most out of Kairos. And you're not supposed to talk about Kairos, btw.

Anyways. TL;DR it was a really great experience for me and taught me a lot about empathy for others and self love, however there were definitely more than a few ethical violations and things that now raise a number of concerns for me as an adult that I think will never get fully addressed.

And that's how I helped to lead a cult for a week!

#more lore #asks #silv's lorebook #if u want me to talk more about my individual sermon lmk #but it was basically just 45 minutes of me bashing my school priest #i was not allowed to lead again

46 notes · View notes

freddiemercurylegendabovelegends · 1 year ago

Text

Today, on 14th January, 1991 - Queen Story!

'Innuendo' / 'Bijou' single released in UK

(taken from the forthcoming album 'Innuendo', the fourteenth)

👉 Illustrations by Grandville (1803-1847)

🔸"Innuendo"

Jam session in Switzerland amongst Brian, Roger and John in spring 1989. Freddie was upstairs and heard them playing the beat, and turned it into a song, creating the melody and starting off the lyrics.

🔸"Bijou"

was an idea Freddie and Brian had of making a song "inside-out" (having guitar doing the verses and the vocal doing the break). Freddie put the chords, title and lyrics, and the two of them worked on the guitar parts

🔸"The song started off as most things do, with us just messing around and finding a groove that sounded nice. All of us worked on the arrangement. Freddie started off the theme of the words as he was singing along, then Roger worked on the rest of them. I worked on some of the arrangement, particularly the middle bit, then there was an extra part that Freddie did for the middle as well. It basically came together like a jigsaw puzzle."

- Brian May - 1991

🔸"'Innuendo' was an improvisation type song where they actually recorded it here in the big concert hall, it's just next door, and we set up like a live performance, and they just started playing, and sort of got into a nice rhythm and a groove, and some chords and then Freddie said, 'Oh, I like that,' and rushed downstairs into the concert hall and started singing along with it. Obviously then, once that initial idea was down on tape, then there was a lot of rearranging and putting extra things on, but the actual beginning of it was like a live thing. It just happened. It was wonderful. Freddie played a strong role in the writing of 'Innuendo'. Steve Howe just happened to drop in one day to say hello to me. He had been recording at Mountain some ten years before with the group Yes. As soon as he popped his head round the door Freddie recognized him and said, 'Come on in and play some guitar!' He had no guitar with him so he used Brian's Dan Armstrong acoustic guitar with a direct output and tone control. Brian played the rhythm guitar and then echoed the solo afterwards on the Red Special."

- David Richards - 2001

David Richards (1956 – 20 December 2013) record producer in Montreux, Switzerland. He has engineered and co-produced many albums by Queen, David Bowie and several other bands.

🔸American Film and Video Festival 1992 'Intuendo' song Golden Camera Award (annual German film and television award, awarded by the Funke Mediengruppe)

📸 Inner Sleeve 'Innuendo' album

by Angela Lumley

👉 'Innuendo: released February 4th, 1991

Reached no 1, chart for 37 weeks

Achieved Platinum status

#freddie mercury #queen band #london #zanzibar #legend #queen #brian may #john deacon #freddiebulsara #roger taylor #1991 #innuendo album #innuendo #Spotify

60 notes · View notes

brickcentral · 4 months ago

Text

🤩 ARTIST SPOTLIGHT: jcmimoso Hello everyone! It's time to direct the spotlight toward our community members, and today we will get to know better jcmimoso!

"Hello fellow LEGO photographers, my name is Juan Carlos Mimoso. I'm from Spain and I grew up in the 75-80s. When I was a child I never had access to LEGO, due to economic reasons and poor distribution in my area. On the other hand, I did play with Playmobil and also with Exin Castillos bricks, with which I built spectacular castles.

I am currently a Doctor in Primary Care in a health center, and when in 2020 we suffered the COVID-19 pandemic and forced confinement, I continued working. I changed my work in the clinic for work at home and in the clinic, with no limit on hours and with the uncertainty and feeling of not being able to offer everything my patients needed. That caused me a lot of added stress. I had always liked photography, landscapes, macro, etc... and I relaxed by walking to see the world with photographic eyes. Instead, now I found that I was confined and unable to create new content.

My son had a couple of LEGO minifigures and a small set, and I thought it was cool to take a photo with an interesting background and post it on Instagram. And since then, I have been hooked on toy photography. I have seen that there are many colleagues spread around the world, and communities like Brickcentral, where tricks and ways to take the final photo are freely shared.

I took almost all of the photos with an old second-hand Fujifilm X-E2 mirrorless and the little Fujinon 27/2.8 pancake lens with a +2 or +4 close-up filter attached. I like that combination because it is very small and portable. A couple of years ago I added the Fujifilm X-H1 because, although it is a little bigger, it has a flip-up screen, which makes it much easier for me to make low compositions without having to move the whole equipment to check the focus. This year I bought a 1:2 macro (Fujinon 60/2.4) and so far I like the results, although due to work and family issues I haven't been able to take many photos. I hope that changes in a couple of weeks.

My workspace is typically my desk. I use the PC monitor as a background, or if it's a building without any background at all, and I place everything on heavy, thick medicine books so I can use my tabletop tripod at the right height. For lighting I use LED spotlights (Ulanzi VL49 and Lumecube Air), although I have also sometimes taken photos with matchstick lighting.

My compositions are not very large because as soon as I finish the session I have to put away everything that is on the desk so that I can use it to process the result. I usually take several shots with different lighting, aperture and sometimes even stacking photos to give more depth, although I never usually use the whole stack, but only just enough so that the background does not look too sharp. Later I choose the shot I like the most in Lightroom and complete it with Photoshop for basic retouching such as cloning, filters, etc.

I mainly use LEGO minifigures from various series (Marvel, DC, Ninjago…), although you can also see some Playmobil and Star Wars figures. The main type of photography I do is usually related to medieval, fantasy, sword and sorcery environments, among others.

In my posts you can see that I use extensively the Barbarian (series 11) and Viking (series 20) minifigures. I think it's because they don't usually require much post-processing, but also because they remind me of the 'Conan the Barbarian' comics I used to read when I was a kid. It's my humble way of paying a little homage to great artists who have drawn the Cimmerian since the 70s and who bring back so many memories. I recently acquired the Red-Haired Barbarian minifigure (series 25), which I'm sure will co-star in future photos. In fact, the photo I'm showing you today is the first one I've used it for.

Fortunately, over the years, I saved some Exin pieces, and along with others I've gotten lately, I use them extensively in my creations to mix LEGO with Exin Castles and get a more realistic environment. To this I usually mix all kinds of rocks, sand, grasses and other accessories so that it integrates well with the sword and sorcery atmosphere that I usually pursue in my publications. For inspiration I use old comics, game or movie sequences, and anything I see that fits well with my possibilities and knowledge. I have notebooks full of ideas written down for a better occasion, which doesn't always come. I learn a lot from other fellow toy photographers and I'm always looking for new ways to tell the little stories in my photos.

Thank you for accepting our invitation and let the community knows you better!

If you want some insights on the exclusive picture and for a better view of the others, head to our blog at https://brickentral.net/.

- @theaphol, Community Outreach Manager

#lego #brickcentral #lego photography #toy photography #afol #toyphotography #legophotography #minifigures #photography tips #brickcentral member #brickcentral artist spotlight

17 notes · View notes

muniimyg · 11 days ago

Note

U a jack of all trades. Idk y but pretty pussies made lol so hard. I’m sorry ur getting a bunch of rude asks, like y can’t ppl be considerate! I hope u get to relax during ur break somewhat

Btw, the bby daddy!bts has me 🧎🏻‍♀️

LOL i said it cos i have my next laser session this week hahaha

honestly only got a few ,, i think i got more shit for bbydaddy!jk during that time i said i was gonna take a break ... i received weird asks involving my moots and i'm an ultimate girls girl so ABOSLUTELY NOT

thank u !!! hoping to update bbydaddy yoongi soon.. i'm sad i didn't get the chance to ,, esp since i extended the series but i had family from the states come over ,, had some drama ,, and jus been going thru things aside from prepping for my final practicum </3 it's been a hustle lately and as much as i want to share my work and be able to have a creative outlet ,, it's 1) hard when it feels like ur work is being received quietly 2) there's so much drama online 3) i'm jus tired and trying to mentally prep myself for the next few months ..

it's HARD yall ,, so i'm jus tryna send everyone good vibes . we're all hanging on by a thread ,, but on the bright side... jk and jimin's release from the army is on my birthday so we at least need to make it to then !!! by then ,, my pussy gonna be bald af too UGH can't fcking WAIT !!!

#ask kimi #it is what it is #that grind time #that awkward timeframe in adulthood where #u have money but no money and u have time but also no time #also going thru things mentally and holy shit my therapist and i #have been a part for 2 weeks #and i feel like im DYING LMFAO #i fear for 2025 but also #such a pretty year #whatever !!! we will get thru it #and it will be beautiful #to live life together <3

7 notes · View notes

strawburry01 · 13 days ago

Text

Only a Fool Would Say That (Camp Pt 3)

Camp Counselors, Angus Tully x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: I’ve been here this whole time guys- I didn’t disappear for a few weeks- what are you talking about. In reality I live in a different state now actually! They only lost all my fucking records in the moving process so send thoughts and prayers.

The first session of camp had finished up without a hitch. You and Angus had continued your weird relationship as co-camp counselors- him always letting the kids get away with way too much, whether it be free-time, candy, how far they could swim out, so of course they adored him for it. Meanwhile you were the stickler who tried to reel everyone in, kids and Angus included. He always would apologize eventually though, just at the most inconvenient times.

You would be trying to calm all the girls down in your cabin when he would knock and they would all squeal knowing it was him. You’d shush them all and step out onto the porch to see his crooked smirk. He drove you crazy but you also couldn’t stop yourself from being near him. He annoyed you but you kept putting yourself in the position for it.

One day when you sat down at lunch he sat beside you and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach do an excited flip. It drove you crazy that you were attracted to him, and you couldn’t admit it to anyone. The oldest counselor having a crush on the new bad boy counselor. Okay that sounds ridiculous, he’s still a camp counselor at a summer camp he’s not a bad boy, you thought to yourself. You tried not to overthink it whenever you caught his gaze though, or whenever you’d pass him something and your fingers would graze each others. Or whenever he’d scoot closer and your shoulders would bump for a second. Whenever he’d sneak off to the local town at night and bring you back your favorite candy or soda. Whenever he’d gently touch your waist to get by you in a crowd.

You tried to keep yourself out of your head with this sort of stuff. So many times you were just making something out of nothing. But you couldn’t help but notice he treated you with more respect than anyone else at camp- hell even the director he’d slept through meetings with. He was always eventually attentive to you and did what you asked.

It came to a crux the night after the first round of campers left. All the counselors had a tradition of a giant bonfire at the end of the sessions, using it as a destresser before the next session started. The occasional bottle of vodka or joint would somehow slip its way in.

You were in your now empty cabin brushing out your hair when Jenny threw the door open. She had a Coors in her hand that she somehow didn’t spill as she threw herself onto the mattress of a bunk.

“These kids! They kill me!” she said dramatically. To her credit, one of Jenny’s campers did have a fiercesome bee sting allergy that he only found out about this last week.

“Aw Jen you’re doing a great job though- there’s no way it can happen twice,” you laughed, trying to offer some comfort.

“You’re just saying that and you know it,” she retorted, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, you’re so stuck in love with your co-counselor,”. You threw your hairbrush in her direction. She giggled and dodged it. “Hey I don’t blame you girl, he’s tall, funny, curly hair, good with the kids, what else do you need?”.

“First, I am not in love with him, and second, there’s a lot more I need in someone to- to be like that with them, thank you very much,” you said.

“Mhmmmm” Jenny hummed, obviously not convinced, “we all think it’s sweet don’t worry. You’re not nearly as upright and you actually seem to be having fun with the kids this year,” she noted. You tied your hair back and shrugged.

“Maybe I just know what to expect, have you considered that?” you huffed, “Angus is a…” you started trying to think of how to finish, “he’s a fine counselor and friend and if he ever asked me out I might be inclined to say yes. Are you happy now?” you rambled.

Jenny sat up and grinned, “I fucking knew it”.

“Throw me my brush back and we can go to the campfire alright? And please don’t bring this up okay? I’m sure we’re both just being delusional right now,” you said, “he’s just weird, he doesn’t like me or anything,”. Jenny tossed you back your hairbrush.

“He’s more of a pain in the ass to everyone else except you, just sayin’” she remarked as the two of you left. You elbowed her which only made her do it back to you, leading to the both of you poking and prodding each other.

The sun was already behind the hills, making the sky a darkening blue by the time you two got to the bonfire. It was already pretty big, but a group of the male counselors kept going into the surrounding forest and somehow coming back with more and more dead wood to toss into it. Angus was there with them which earned a poke in the back from Jenny. You hissed and slapped her hand away, taking a gulp from her now warm Coors. Angus and another guy chucked in an old tree stump which caused an upward spiral of soot and smoke.

The crowd of counselors grew and Jenny disappeared into the mix. She was always the social one. You could be social, but with most of the folks being younger than you, if not intimidated by you from being there for so long, you weren’t usually chatty at these things. You’d picked up another beer in the time and took a seat on the bench closest to the fire. Laughs and cackles filled the air with the crackling logs and groaning wood. You took a long sip of the beer, wishing it could’ve tasted at least a little better. Apparently your distaste was obvious as a familiar voice chuckled beside you.

“Not a beer drinker Lightning?” Angus laughed. You turned to see him in an old flannel with a cigarette loosely hanging in between his lips.

“You don’t need to use the camp names when the campers aren’t here,” you said. You couldn’t stop glancing at the cigarette.

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “Mind if I sit down then, Y/N?” he asked. You scooted over to make space. He ashed off the top of his cigarette before stomping his heel on it to make sure it was out. “You’re looking at me like you’ve never seen a cigarette,” he said as he looked over at you. Embarrassed, you quickly took another sip of your beer before you could remember how shitty it was.

“I just wasn’t expecting it out of you,” you said, meeting his eyes.

“You ever tried one?” He asked. You shook your head no. “You want to try one?” he followed up, offering his half smoked one out. You gently took it from his fingers and stared at it.

“What do I do?” You mumbled quietly, feeling a little self conscious in front of him.

His smirk returned to his face, “wow you are such a little goodie two shoes aren’t you? Just suck in on it and then blow it out. Surely you know how to do that much,” he said. You swatted at his knee.

“Shut up shut up I’m just joking around,” you said, very much not joking around. You put the cigarette to your lips and inhaled, and instantly began coughing, doubling over on the bench. Your throat felt like it was on fire and you held out the rest of the cigarette back to Angus.

“Oh no Y/N!” He cried, trying not to laugh. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and patted your back, “too much for a poor little lady,”. You tried to form an insult, but you just kept coughing. After a few more seconds of wheezing you finally sat back up and took a deep breath of campfire air.

“Fuck Angus you’re trying to kill me!” You wheezed.

“I’d never. You’re too good at your job here and I’d miss you too much,” he laughed as he continued to slowly rub your back. Your insides spun at the idea of him missing you.

“I’d have to come back and haunt you then,” you said once you had your air and voice back. Angus laughed and you felt his arm drop from your back to the other side of your waist, keeping you on his side.

“Christ, I’d only dream to be so lucky,” he smirked as he put the cigarette back in his mouth with his free hand. “Let me make you some s’mores to make up for it,” he said as he looked over at the marshmallows and chocolate beginning to be brought out by some stoned teens.

You swallowed your pride as you nudged a little closer to his side, feeling his hold on your waist follow suit.

“I think you should stay here though- just in case I faint or something from lack of oxygen,” you said, looking up at him. He looked down at you, his brown eyes reflecting the now roaring bonfire.

“That could be arranged,” he grinned, before yelling at one of the teens to bring over the marshmallows.

#x reader #angus tully #angus tully x reader #angus Tully fanfic

16 notes · View notes

blushcoloreddreams · 1 year ago

Text

17 ways to add small smiles in your life

Hello my friend!

For the past year I’ve had a pretty busy and I’ll dare say boring routine with not a lot of time for great adventures. So I think that the best way to not feel overwhelmed, burnt out or whenever I begin struggling in life, I always begin looking for ways to infuse more joy and smiles into my life. As I've pondered this issue, I've come to believe that the joy in our lives can be greatly enhanced by something that I like to call "Small Smiles."

Small smiles are different from the ones that come from seeing a long lost friend, winning a competition, or achieving our goals. Small smiles aren't extremely memorable or life-changing, but they DO matter.

Small smiles arrive when you have a good hair day, or when you get a small discount on your regular coffeeshop order. These smiles aren't momentous or incredible, but they DO add to the overall joy of life.

Today, I wanted to write our list about all the ways we can begin adding more "small smiles" to our days

1. Wear your favorite smell

This is one of my FAVORITE life hacks ever. Apply a small amount of Vaseline or petroleum jelly to your wrists, and spray the area with your favorite scent. As you go about your day, take a minute to pause and take a sniff of your favorite smell. It will ALWAYS make you happy.

Also, don't be ashamed of the smell you choose! I always have a good dash of "flowebomb" or “miss Dior” on my body, even though people seem them as basic / overused perfumes but I believe they are classics for a reason.

2. Enjoy the sky

I know this one sounds really weird, but bear with me. So, a fun fact about me is that one of favorite "feature" of Creation is the sky. I cannot get enough of looking at the clouds, stars, the moon, sunrises, sunsets, or chunky and thunderous rain clouds.

I think all humans need to take time to reconnect with nature: it's good to be reminded of how tiny we are, and how gorgeous the world is. So maybe your version of "enjoying the sky" is actually taking a walk by a river or buying a bouquet of flowers. Whatever it is, just take some time to get in touch with the world.

3. Dream about your FUTURE

Whenever I think about the names of my nonexistent future children, or the places I want to travel, I can't help but smile. It can be unhealthy to live exclusively in the future, BUT, a nice dreaming session can be truly uplifting. Dreaming about the future gives us hope, excitement, and even a little bit of motivation. Take time to dream, no matter how crazy the dream is

4. Wear your FAVORITE outfit

Alright friends, this is pretty obvious, but wearing our favorite clothing will often make us smile! Do you remember when you were a kid, and your mom could NOT stop you from wearing the same pink dress every day for a week? Well, even though we're adults, it can still be whimsical and fun to have a "favorite" outfit. Don't worry about it being stylish or trendy: just make sure you feel happy in it.

5. Sit on the floor and play with your dog... or cat... chinchilla… or fish? *

Okay, maybe I'm just really spoiled because every night while chilling in my bed my cat will come for snuggles, every time I get anywhere close to him. think, even just passing to get a cup of water , my cat begins to heads towards me and ask for some affectionl. He’s just so awesome and excited every time I'm showing signs of "play."

Whenever I need some joy, I plop down on the ground and pet him a bit or I’ll play with some wand to help him play hunt. I would highly recommend that if you have a pet, or you know someone who has a pet, take time to enjoy those amazing emotional and mental benefits.

6. Send a meme to your "person"

I have a friend who routinely sends me memes, just to reach out and connect. It ALWAYS brings a small smile to my face. So, instead of waiting around for other people to send you memes, try sending some to your friends, significant other, or sister. Enjoy all the guaranteed small smiles to come.

7 Make small talk with a cashier

Even when I'm grumpy, it can be really life-giving to chat with people when I'm going about my errands. Avoiding social interactions always makes me grumpier. A small chat, even about the weather can truly bring a small smile to our face.

8. Clean your kitchen

It wouldn't be a one of my posts without a call to clean our kitchens! Whenever I look down at an empty sink, I can't help but feel a small smile coming up on my face. Firstly, it's very freeing to get the chores done, but secondly, it always makes me feel like I've accomplished something with my life!

Indulging in my routines and enjoying the mundanity of life always makes me smile. It's important to realize that funny, happy, or sweet things aren't the only things that will make us smile. Accomplishing things and putting things into order will ALSO make us smile

9. Be bold in ONE area

This one will be different for everyone. I truly think that many of us are constantly walking around with something on our minds that we're avoiding. Today, I encourage you to take a step towards boldness in that area: for me, this often means dealing with a stack of papers, or cleaning out my DM's.

Being bold doesn't only apply to kissing someone, standing up for yourself, or asking for a promotion: it applies to the boring parts of life too. Take charge, be bold, and enjoy the smiles.

10. Change your phone background

A good phone clean-out does WONDERS for the soul. Now, I need to do this more than anyone... I have the bad habit of letting old unnecessary photos and screen shots pile up and you're talking to "Miss 30 unopened chats ." But in the meantime, I think it can be really good to just switch up our phone backgrounds to something that will give us a small smile.

For awhile, my phone background was a photo of a rococo castle that I liked.. It was kind of busy and nerdy looking, but honestly, we can't help what makes us smile!

11. Be weird

I was a really weird kid: I was completely socially aware, BUT I had a strange sense of humor and I had pretty odd interests like deep sea animals and geishas. I truly feel like that childhood weirdness lingers just beneath the surface of my personality.

There is just something about life that is so absolutely WEIRD to me. Seriously, Life is wacky. It's unpredictable, crazy, and weird. I say that we embrace this weirdness, and indulge our unique qualities and unpredictable traits. Don't spend your life trying to fit in: embrace the weird, and enjoy the small smiles that follow.

12. Switch up your commute

I think it's easy to get stuck in our routines. I think life can feel boring and mundane when we fail to seek out adventure and explore the world right in front of us. Maybe tomorrow, on the way home, try to take the long way, or stop to get a coffee. Take a different way home and try to mix up your routine. Even a small glimpse of something new can be enough to ignite a small smile.

13. Go for a walk

I know, I know... EVERY blog suggests this. But I have to say friend, if everyone is giving this advice, it might be because it's THE best advice. Take a page from Elizabeth Bennett's book (LOL) and learn to take a walk. I do this when I need to get my heart pumping, and it ALWAYS makes me smile. It's just nice to get moving and go on an adventure.

14. Wrap up in a HUGE blanket

Specially in the colder months or just a rainy day, I seriously think that a good "cocoon session" is something that everyone needs to do once in a while. There's something so comforting and calming about wrapping up in cozy blanket. Maybe it takes us all back to the comfort of the womb LOL.

Smiles can happen during moments of connection, accomplishment, and peace, and cocooning DEFINITELY helps us achieve peace. Bonus points? Add a cup of tea, coffee or hot chocolate

15. Spend time baking

Baking brings confidence, AND sugar highs. It is the perfect combination to help us achieve the small smile. Besides, it’s something fun to do with friends and family.

16. Embrace it when "things go wrong"

I have a loooooooooot of weaknesses. I do. I'm fearful, needy, lazy, and so much more. BUT, I do have one thing going for me: I have always been able to embrace the mistakes in life. Whenever something doesn't work out, I always like to say that it's because it "wasn't meant to be." I think I find a lot of joy and peace in the idea that everything is under control and that God is workin on my behalf, even when things go wrong.

Embracing the weird is just like embracing the mistakes. I think that when we flip trouble on its head, we can really begin to enjoy life and smile

17. Sing out loud

This is my final piece of advice: I really find a lot of joy in the act of singing loudly in my car to old songs. There's something very positive about releasing our voices and emotions. Even the nostalgia of music from our youth can really bring about a lot of smiles! So yes, please blast that T-Swift, and sing OUT LOUD!

#personal #level up #femininity #personal development #feminine #traditional femininity #feminine energy

26 notes · View notes

yourneighborhoodporg · 1 year ago

Text

The Guardian

Chapter 8: Blackened Water (Part 1)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: graphic descriptions of migraines, mention of sleeplessness/loss of appetite, self-sacrifice (if ya squint), angst, fluff, banter, descriptions of violence.

Summary: It had been two weeks since you arrived on Coruscant when The Chosen One invited you to join him in an impromptu Starfighter piloting session. After reminiscing about the weeks prior, you, Anakin, Ahsoka, and R2-D2 decide to transform the lesson into a game. However, you are quick to learn that pushing this ship to its limit was sure to have unintended complications.

Song Inspo: Migraine — Twenty One Pilots

Words: 6k

A/n: Looks like things are about to get complicated... please comment/pm if you'd like to be on the Taglist! And lmk your thoughts on this chapter :)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

So much like the moon, we show the world only one and veil our many faces, even from the sun — Jason Versey

“It’s not that I don’t want to learn how to pilot a Starfighter, I’m just not sure if I want to learn from you.”

You spoke forcefully into the comlink headset, its rounded, copper microphone hovering inches from quarrelsome lips. You were currently situated in a Republic Starfighter’s Co-Pilot Forward Gunner’s cockpit, and its rushing drone was creating a deafening habitat that drove you to raise your voice had you any hope of communicating with Anakin, Ahsoka, or Anakin’s droid companion R2-D2 at any point during this flight. Still, the boundless rush failed to block you from continuing your exploration of the fighter’s gunnery controls, spelled out by the glaring interactive screen nestled in the jutted crook to your right.

“I’ll have you know that I’m the best pilot the Jedi have, if not, the Galaxy,” Anakin defended, his mechanically muffled voice crackling into your earpiece while he directed the fighter’s acceleration around Coruscant’s curvature.

You flexed a doubtful brow at his cockiness, despite his inability to see you from the main pilot’s cockpit stationed a meter ahead, just before the bird’s nose.

“Weren’t you the one who crash-landed that shuttle on Hoth in the first place?” You challenged.

“They’ve got you there,” Ahsoka piped up, the young voice spluttering through your headset from her perch in the tail gunner’s pit directly behind.

“That wasn’t my fault,” he huffed.

You shook your head at the exchange, levity conquering facial muscles that usually endured some semblance of placidity as you carried on with your analysis of the ship’s offensive capabilities.

In the seconds that followed, a brief silence unfolded across the fighter’s private comms channel, though that didn’t deter you from continuing to tap away at the informative screen just below your fingertips. Needless to say, despite focusing your mind on canons and proton torpedo launcher specifications, the prolonged lull in conversation streamlined your thoughts into deeper ruminations as your evolving muscle memory assumed control.

It had been nearly two weeks since your arrival on Coruscant, and you were finding that you had a knack for acclimating quickly to the drastically contrasting environment. The warmer weather, busier urban environment, and abundance of Jedi-specific resources were quite the staggering changes from your meager, solitary existence among boundless blizzards and bloodthirsty beasts.

So, it didn’t take much convincing to welcome the transition with open arms.

You were still settling in, so, rationally, you recognized that you weren’t as versed in the Jedi Temple’s daily happenings as its more veteran residents. However, from the behavior you observed alone, you could still tell that time dragged far more gradually than the status quo, even when compared to the beginning few days of your arrival.

At first, you noticed that meetings among the Jedi Council had become less frequent. There was little to discuss while they awaited news from Temple technicians who, sector-by-sector, continued their analysis of each minutia of the Jedi’s expansive communications array. And when they did convene, it was usually due to handfuls of temporarily visiting clones, dispatched from their units to deliver on-the-ground intelligence directly to assigned generals who would then liaise any necessary information to the Council for further instructions.

Generals, you sighed inwardly. The taste of that word being used to describe Jedi was still akin to the tangy expiration of blue milk. A sign of the times, you supposed. So, again, you pushed that thought away.

You continued your recollection, even harking back to that strange, incongruous feeling that overcame your senses when you spotted your first set of clones. Rationally, you knew what to expect. Beings that looked exactly like each other in most, if not every conceivable way. Though, despite that assumption, you’d found that even in the briefest of interactions, these clones seemed to be some of the most diverse and spirited individuals you’d ever met.

Sure, you hadn’t chanced upon that many beings in your lifetime. But of the few troopers you did encounter, they certainly stood in stark contrast against that backdrop of Coruscanti civilians and Jedi from your recent past.

They were dedicated to their craft and their generals, drove into the depths of battle without the protection of the Force, and supported each other like true brothers in arms.

And with all your being, you commended that.

Maybe that’s why you were looking forward to meeting more of their comrades and discovering how their relationship with the Jedi Order came to be. You could only learn so much from those few, fleeting conversations in a passing walkway. Especially because their presence was always so short-lived.

Once a new directive was assigned by the Council, the visiting batches were soon whisked away, once again into the strange, galaxy-wide relay race in the name of secure communications while the Council melted back into their brief slumber. You supposed it was the natural consequence of the Republic Army’s temporary reliance on snail mail, but it was all still so strange nonetheless.

You had to admit, though, that things had begun to pick up in the last week. You remembered hearing passively from a congregation of Masters moving through a large hall one afternoon, that a smattering of Jedi had been sent out alongside the most recent collection of clone drop-ins. Some of those named individuals returned after a few days, having spotted them in the Archives, a refractory, or even conversing with Master Windu.

But the ones you didn’t see again?

You could only assume that they were continuing to traverse the Galaxy on some unknown mission in the name of peace.

But word of mouth was not your only source of information regarding the curbed release of Jedi back to the Front. You had, at times, happened to see it for yourself. Like just the other day, when passing by one of the Temple’s main hangars on the way to another sparring session with Anakin. Just by chance, out of the corner of your eye, you’d caught a pair of Jedi preparing to depart alone. There was no clone in sight by their powered-up Nu-class attack shuttle, red and white markings trailing its spine as it gaily awaited the two passengers conversing lowly at the bottom of the boarding ramp. You remembered it was a duo of black-robbed, green-tinted Mirialans— Master and Padawan, their relative ages suggested. Off to another untold destination, but, this time, without a crew of troopers.

You recalled thinking at that moment: maybe the Council has grown more agreeable with the concept of dispatching Jedi alone to temporary assignments?

Then again, their sudden departure might have had more to do with the need to immediately transmit vital information to a distant battalion than anything else.

Either way, it was all a guess. You had learned fairly quickly in your time at the Temple that The Council considered most wartime information as need-to-know. Even Master Windu, in the few times you’d met with him, was reticent to share any news with you that didn’t directly concern your being.

At any rate, those instances of strategic departures were rare, leaving many Jedi to find a way to occupy themselves during this involuntary downtime.

You, personally, were utilizing this time the best way you could— as an opportunity to address the persistent migraines that’d been plaguing you for the past week and a half.

Even in the cockpit of a Starfighter, thousands of kilometers away from Coruscant’s golden inscriptions, you could still recall it all so perfectly.

They would start off imperceptibly stunted, pecking away at your senses so gently that you’d barely notice their presence until the draining aches inflamed into pounding thumps deep at the core of your brainstem.

The worst part was that you never knew when they were going to strike next. It was just all so…sporadic.

They’d crawl into your sinuses during early afternoon drills, nibbling at your attention mere minutes into attempting a particularly complicated, defensive acrobatic which would accordingly backfire from the ordeal’s impetuosity. Other times, it was in the evening, usually erupting in your skull halfway through supper, and, often, smack dab in the middle of a sentence aimed at one of the three Jedi who’d whisked you away from Hoth weeks ago.

Naturally, regardless of your hope to learn more about The Chosen One, his former Master, and Padawan during these times, this strange affliction’s consequences would routinely cut such moments short. The second that distinctive, rising thunder would rumble, you were pressed to conjure up some excuse to retire early, leaving most of your plain meal uneaten from the unexpected loss of appetite in each premature retreat to your quarters.

In addition to coping with the persistently tugging weights chained to the back of your eyeballs, you were, to the best of your ability, trying to keep its effects as discreet as possible. You’d keep your signature muted and expression neutral as the warning signs of an impending strike encroached on your senses, removing yourself from whichever training, social, or study activity may have fanned its flames.

But despite it all, these considerations were not enough to deter the occasional wisp of care that would flutter from Ahsoka’s brows following your early conclusion of a joint study session. Or the flare of worry that would spurt behind Anakin’s fiery eyes after you ended a spar prematurely, hand cradling your forehead the moment you’d retreated from his line of vision.

Your efforts to obscure any reflection of pain especially did little to dissuade the concern that rippled across Obi-Wan’s features last night, when in the middle of a teasing escapade with Anakin, your brilliant grin faltered into a thin, immutable line as a sudden spear to the base of your skull compelled you to briskly break off from the group before the impartial expression you strained to support wavered.

Discerningly, you understood that despite your efforts, the three of them knew something was transpiring. Still, you were confident enough that your exercise in representing these headaches as sudden fatigue would present these moments as too bland to warrant serious discussion.

You wanted, no, needed to keep any sense of severity to a minimum. You’d spent the last decade alone on a lethal, ice planet, your entire life being the sum experience of staring down danger’s sharpest teeth and shaving them blunt by yourself. All in all, you’d certainly dealt with threats far greater than the danger of a persistent set of migraines, you joked inwardly. So you knew that, with time, you’d figure out how to trim away this roadblock too.

And without involving The Chosen One.

You thought back to your first working theory of the issue, that your body was still adapting to its changed environment. Even though you felt energized by this new planet’s radiant sunlight, the heat could have still affected you more than you first realized. But even with this, you understood that only time would tell.

In the interim, you found it unnecessary to worry your Jedi acquaintances. They had no need for knowledge of your sleepless nights, fueled by mushrooming, stings bursting behind your forehead. Shattering you awake in a puddle of strenuous sweat and breathless utterances that disheveled your sheets.

“Just go away already,” you huffed one early morning.

You were The Guardian after all. Tasked with protecting The Chosen One. Roping in others to aid you in your own, comparably minuscule toils would have stood in quiet opposition to your title’s purpose.

Yes. You were convinced. You’d find a solution some other way.

Anyways, addressing your mind’s inner facets was only a small strand in the meadow of free time that had laid at your fingertips. You also took an appreciable advantage of the interim to explore your new home— The Jedi Temple.

You recalled finding it somewhat overwhelming, the Temple’s colossal model, constructed piece-by-piece over thousands of years with the building blocks of Jedi evolution and spirituality. But, in spite of its sweeping presence, you felt uninhibited to tour each nook and cranny like the labyrinth it was.

You’d encountered many Jedi this way, all in various training dojos, halls, gardens, and other, more secluded, areas as they too took advantage of the passing days to train, meditate, or study. It was actually how you, twice, inadvertently ran into Anakin and Ahsoka, during these cursory, investigative stints. Once, while they were in the midst of a spar, and the other, amid one of Anakin’s on-the-fly lessons about the reality of the battlefield.

Sitting here in this rumbling, Starfighter’s primary gunner cockpit, you had to admit that you were really delighted when you saw them like this. Working as Master and Padawan in their own, unique way. It proved to you that Anakin was taking his Mastership more seriously.

You remembered how he’d expressed to you his hesitancy with being assigned a Padawan last week as the two of you strolled down one of the Temple’s many walkways in search of an empty training room. Though you were not surprised, as it was something that you already learned from Obi-Wan, who had complained about this very issue to you over one of your evening meals. A plate of hawk-bat eggs, if you recalled correctly. He cited to you the young Jedi’s reluctance to attend several of Ahsoka’s training remote sessions, which, according to Master Kenobi, was an important, reoccurring exercise prescribed to all Padawans.

Separately, you’d happened to already know how the Jedi Order historically drove responsibility into its members. It was not just via off-world missions or Knighthood trials, but through the combined experience of guiding the young with one’s own expertise. Qui-Gon often mentioned how his mentorship years morphed him into the wise and capable man you’d known him to be. And you didn’t believe either that Anakin was immune to such windows into maturity.

So, at that moment, with the protesting, chestnut-haired Jedi strolling inches from your side, you were sure to remind the irresolute man that they wouldn’t have given him that duty had they not believed him to be ready.

“Now you’re starting to sound like Obi-Wan.” He huffed, crossing his arms as you both continued your brisk saunter. “I’m just not meant to have a Padawan!”

You eyed the insistent Jedi soberly. “Anakin, I’ll tell you one thing. For someone who I know hopes to grow as a Jedi, you certainly seem to tie your own feet together when the perfect opportunities to do so present themselves.”

That conversation must’ve knocked a bolt loose in that rigid mind of his, you supposed, after seeing with your own eyes his efforts to do more as her Master in the days that followed.

And that included today. In this bulky, ARC-170 Starfighter. The inspiration for Anakin’s decision to kill two buzzbirds with one stone.

After admitting to your limited, hands-on piloting experience over that same dinner you’d ended early the night before, Anakin posed the brilliant idea of teaching you himself. A proposition you’d have had better luck turning down had he not already been planning to take Ahsoka out into the exosphere to deliver his own set of ad-hoc tutorials.

If you could even call it that.

According to him, all he had to do was reserve a different Starfighter class and the three of you would be good to go. So, you accepted, hoping all the way up until you entered the secondary cockpit that maybe Anakin had a preplanned lesson that wouldn’t end in infamy.

That was, of course, until the actual flying started.

Refocusing your attention to continue inspecting the gunner controls to your right, you soon found greater ease in probing the laser canons’ maneuverability with time. In fact, you were able to quite quickly understand this new model’s updated variations, and how those tied into its modernized combative functions. This was most transparent earlier at the flight’s start, when, after a short brief from Anakin, you were comfortable enough to trigger the fighter’s new S-foil wing system, a state-of-the-art feature which supposedly allowed for greater heat dispersion between the ship’s engines and canons in high-speed situations.

Yes, you lacked the heuristic flying and gunner skills, but your studies on Hoth were not for naught. You had long ago memorized the user-based functionalities of older starships. Its parts, controls, functions, and capabilities, employing your own shelter as a dissectible specimen to fuel your understanding. So, while you didn’t have Anakin’s piloting experience or dexterity, you were still rather capable of exercising that garnered knowledge to pick up parallel operations fairly quickly.

It was also why, in reaching hour two of Anakin’s lesson, his sporadic, step-by-step sputterings of how and when he engaged elementary control functions did little to quench your parched alacrity.

So, you broke the silence.

“So…when are the gunners gonna become pilots?” You asked, both on your and Ahsoka’s behalf.

“You think you’re ready to take the reins?” Anakin raised, a hint of playfulness echoing behind the occasional pop of the radioed voice in your ear.

You smirked. “Only one way to find out.”

Just as you finished, a small, yellow window blinked open at the top of your screen. You briskly scanned it, recognizing the primary controls transfer confirmation request before gingerly tapping accept.

In half a second, the flight computer once shrouded in darkness directly in front of you flickered to life. It began by displaying various levels of system readiness in navy blue text on the left. Shield artillery, forward and aft stability, among others. On the opposite side shone the fighter’s coordinate plane, a graphed image depicting the ship’s location based on immediate surroundings that were divided by orange, sectional rings.

They all buzzed to life in conjunction with a control panel of glowing, kaleidoscopic buttons, switches, and several familiar levers, their color-coded rings now steadily blinking a range of unnatural reds, blues, and yellows by your fingertips.

“Let’s see what you got,” Anakin crackled through.

You hummed in concentration while wrapping a set of fingers around the navigation lever, feeling its give as you put your other hand to work adjusting the bird’s speed parameters on the animated control panel. Once the specifications were fixed, you lifted your head back toward the speckled darkness of space, gently nudging the lever forward to dip the fighter.

And you sensed the change immediately.

The modest pressure of your back suddenly tugging to the rear support infused your fingertips with dawning excitement. You pulled the lever toward you with greater confidence now in the directional shift, sensing the variation in the fighter’s ascent while absorbing your first taste of the craft’s feel, as well as its movement’s interaction with the Force.

Before long, your certainty swelled further, stirring you to twist the rapidly scaling fighter into a backward loop while listening to the metal grunt merrily around you.

Despite swiftly finishing that circle, you were reticent to give the bird a moment to rest. Instead, you directed the Starfighter to climb once more, adjusting the panel controls for a hammerhead descent. Even now, in this rapid ascent, you body still prickled at the fighter’s consistency with the imputed speed adjustments as you neared the desired pivot point.

Then, you felt it.

That minute weightlessness that commanded you to yank the navigational lever to the right, bringing the ship into another sharp, controlled dive for a few seconds before leveling it off into a normal flight pattern.

“Not bad,” Anakin began. “But those little tricks aren’t gonna do much good on the battlefield.”

“It’s not like we have any battle droids for target practice,” Ahsoka commented. “Or anything to train in defending against.”

She had a point, you considered inwardly.

But if your time on a deserted planet taught you anything, it was that even the most resourceless locales could be molded into an advantage.

“And isn’t this a clone ship?” She continued.

You glanced around at your surroundings beyond the compact cockpit as their conversation reigned unabated, hoping to catch sight of anything that could be put to use as you stuck to the fighter’s default flight path programmed to circulate Coruscant’s outer edge.

“Yeah,” Anakin irritatedly drew. “But it was the only model that could fit three beings. It’s similar enough to the Delta-7s anyways.”

A sudden, protesting flurry of high-pitched, sundry beeps sloped in pitch from your headset, but still failed to draw your preoccupied glare away from its scan of the region.

Though it did precipitate a sigh in the blue-eyed Jedi

“Sorry, Artoo. Three beings, and a droid.”

Then, you spotted it.

A few hundred kilometers to your right floated a scattered array of tiny meteors, traveling in an undefined shape at an imperceptible speed. Far enough away from Coruscant to avoid accidental atmospheric entry, and small enough to avoid causing any real damage to a fighter with as heavy shielding as this one.

“I may have a solution to that,” you voiced while veering the Starfighter’s nose toward the crumbly assemblage of hickory brown space rocks.

“Let’s hear it!” Ahsoka eagerly exclaimed, having had little else to do but listen to Anakin’s instructions in the rear gunner pod for the last few hours.

“You see that up ahead?” You asked, nodding to the nonspecific structure before remembering that your companions couldn’t see you.

“The meteors?” Anakin questioned.

You cognitively hummed, the formation expanding as the fighter quickly neared its destination.

“Nope,” you popped. “That, is an enemy starship.” You asserted. “Anakin, how’s your object manipulation?”

He scoffed. “Do you even need to ask?”

“Even in space?” You lightly teased, bringing the bird in to perpetually circumnavigate the ruble consortium.

“Especially in space.”

Somehow, you could almost taste his grin through your rumbling headset.

“I’m holding you to that,” you quipped, a small smile slipping by your lips.

Without skipping a beat, you leaned your head back to address Ahsoka. “Master Skywalker here is gonna be our intrepid, enemy gunner.”

You gesticulated toward the backdrop. “These rocks are his ammo. I’ll be the primary pilot, and, Ahsoka, you’re my gunner. Oh! And Artoo?”

You glanced up at the droid’s blue and white head, peeking out from his secured cavity in the center of a divider wall that separated you and Ahsoka.

“Do try to keep Anakin from accidentally destroying our way home.”

The droid buzzed in a rising chime of inspirited affirmation as his head danced into a spin.

“Don’t worry, Artoo,” Ahsoka reassured while the air of your cabin flooded with the fizzing whir of her dorsal canon elevating. “Silvey and I will make sure you don’t have much work to do.”

“It seems I must teach you a lesson in speaking too soon, my young Padawan,” Anakin sassed.

“Alright,” you interjected, keeping an eye on the meteor cluster to your left. “The battle starts now.”

“Let’s have it.”

Just as those final words fluttered from your dried lips, a fluctuation in the hovering mass caught your eye. You centered your vision, catching a knot of nearly twenty rocks assembling into a spearhead formation near the crowd’s outer rim. That was, before, without notice, those jagged rocks sharply launched toward the fighter’s closest flank.

“Hold on!” You called out instinctively before bringing the bird down into a sudden plunge.

The whizzing meteor configuration rushed after the Starfighter’s tail, giving Ahsoka the prime latitude to start shooting down the shard-like projectiles with the zapping hiss of her maneuverable canon.

While Anakin’s Padawan sustained her calculated assault on the cluster’s center bludgeoners, you, however, were beginning to sense a hairsplitting breakaway in their diving formation. Intending to investigate this further, you glanced at the coordinate plane to the right of your screen. There, you soon spotted two chaotic bundles of flashing red dots, rapidly approaching either wing at a speed that doubled their blinking rate.

This discovery was, naturally, followed by the occasional, yet abruptly swelling, clangs of eluding debris that bounced off the bird’s aft. Thankfully, Artoo was at the ready, already working to readjust the deflector shields to the rear as he emitted an arrangement of disapproving, bellowed beeps.

“I’m doing my best, Artoo!” Ahsoka droned.

You, on the other hand, were keeping careful attention on those threatening, crimson flecks. So much so, that your grip on the throttle mindlessly tightened as they relentlessly inched and inched ever so closer.

But you waited, relaying their distance internally from the screen’s navigation display as you formulated a plan on the fly.

100 meters…50 meters…15 meters.

This should work.

You wrenched the lever to the right, hard, bringing the fighter into a sudden tilt. The wings parked at 12 and 6 o’clock as the rocks once speedily approaching each end blindly whizzed over your head and by the ship’s belly.

You paused here for only a moment, permitting the last pebble to zoom past before righting the fighter.

Now, having brought the environment back into a gradual equilibrium, you’d believed the fore was secure enough for you to address the swelling pummeling you were receiving from behind. So you stretched your neck back, expecting to momentarily check in with Ahsoka’s progress.

But in that ever so brief twist away from the viewport, you just as suddenly sensed some whirlwind convergence in the path of the bird’s nose.

Having spun around, eyes searching, you were soon able to abruptly spy those same, once-dodged clusters presently returning with newfound vengeance.

“Anakin…” you chided, taking the fighter into another evading dip. “Last time I checked, laser bolts can’t redirect themselves.”

“These are…special laser bolts,” The Chosen One brightly justified as his dual-speared formations endured an unforgiving swoop and approach.

You huffed, once more returning to the panel to readjust the speed parameters before taking the ship up again in hopes of shaking these ‘Silvey-seeking lasers.’

The next twenty or so minutes of this little, spontaneous exercise protracted more of the same. Ahsoka primarily handled all the aft attacks. And any time a knot of projectiles came whistling toward the fighter’s flanks or fore, you retained a calculated quickness in twisting, looping, or diving away to elude the enemy.

You did this especially well when, at some point, Anakin guided his mineral minions into another full-frontal attack. With minimal latency, you rolled the ship into a small curve, swiftly pointing its tail at the hastily advancing masses so that Ahsoka could take over, all in an effort to tighten these battle-necessary skills.

It was all fun and games, of course, until Artoo erupted into a fit of jangling chirps, which you altogether roughly interpreted as a plea to pause.

It was in those following moments that, you too, started to notice the crater-like burrows that speckled the ship’s hull and nose, its cherry red, warpaint bands unreasonably chipped, and its canon arms dented.

And you could only imagine what the aft looked like.

It was clear that the three of you had certainly given this Starfighter a thorough beating.

“Sorry buddy,” you replied while gradually levying the ship to a standstill.

You assumed Anakin had also received the memo as the previously merciless bombardment of space debris clusters stalled like sleeping statues around you, blanketing back into the natural confines of the surrounding white-speckled vacuum.

“Guess the drill got away from us,” you continued, bringing up the command controls transfer menu on your screen before programming it to relay all functions to the main cockpit.

You endured in the same breath, powering down the canon engines with a deflated huff. “If you need any help with the repairs, my hands are yours.”

No matter his noticeable frustrations, the astromech must have still appreciated the offer as your headset swiftly resounded with spirited whistles of gratitude.

“Okay,” Anakin uttered, the secondary pilot screen, panel, and levers before you dimming back into the blackness of your cabin with a depleted drone as he accepted the changeover. “One more thing I want to try before we rotate positions.”

Your attentiveness toward Skywalker’s words was short-lived, however, as an unexpected, shrill blare resounded throughout your suffocating compartment.

“Um,” Ahsoka emitted.

Instinctively, you glanced at the single active interface to your right, only to register a flashing red warning plastered above the primary gunner controls. Then, just seconds into your efforts to detect the source, a female voice spilled into the exposed space, parroting the same admonition flashing before your eyes from interior speakers.

“Uh, Anakin?” You articulated, staring at the now, decidedly visible safety warning. “Why are you suppressing the inertial dampeners?”

“I want to test the terminal rotational velocity of this new model before it’s dispatched to my battalion,” he nonchalantly explained.

You peeked down at his cockpit, registering the ever-shifting essence of the back of his head as he seemingly prepped the ship for whatever stunt was next on the agenda.

“Isn’t that what the piloting screen’s for?” Ahsoka challenged. “To give you those numbers?”

“Yes,” he muttered, annoyed. “But I can’t get a good feel for its real maneuverability with the dampeners at max.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna like this,” you breathed while the batting crimson glow of the ship’s safety system dragged on its incessant screech.

“Don’t worry,” Anakin cheered seconds before a thrumming, mechanical purr sounded from either side of the ship. “It’s perfectly safe.”

Your head swiveled toward the hums, enabling you to notice the wings’ X formation slowly collapse into a thicker, horizontal line with a metallic snap.

“I think the warning lady disagrees with you,” Ahsoka deadpanned while Artoo chirped in with jumbled blips of agreement.

You exhaled. “I’m gonna have to jump in on this bandwagon, too, Anakin.”

You reflexively gesticulated to your right.

“Closing the wings will burn us up.”

“Only if the canon engines are on, which you turned off,” he reminded. “Besides, having them open will drag our rotational speed.”

Realizing that his mind was made up, you relented, leaning back into your cushioned backrest as you folded your arms in a mix of apprehension and quiet protest.

Logically, you knew Anakin was a talented pilot. But in the short time you’d known him, he always seemed to be one switch away from a reckless decision that couldn’t be rescinded. You could only rely on the Force to warn you otherwise but, for now, you took comfort instead in mumbling one reoccurring thought aloud.

“I’m gonna regret this.”

“Okay, prepare yourselves,” the blue-eyed Jedi declared as you felt the uniform pull of a Starfighter in motion.

Anakin was not one to dally, you knew that too. But you were also not quite expecting the speed or suddenness with which he instantly accelerated the craft.

Mere meters into the flight, the chestnut-haired Jedi launched the fighter with the momentum of a passionate lightning bolt, driving your entire being to squash back as the sudden force partially flattened your skin and burrowed in between chapped lips and suddenly exposed gums. Your hands shot impulsively out to either side of the cramped cockpit, flattened palms shoving against both engine-warmed walls for some semblance of balance.

But it was no use. The thrill-seeking man continued to drive the bird to newly discovered, exponential speeds.

Mind briefly flickering, you recalled your other Jedi companion while trying to catch your breath. You could only imagine what poor Ahsoka was experiencing on the opposite side of the craft as she was thrust forward by the inverse velocity.

But evidently, none of these worries had crossed Anakin’s mind. Instead, you imagined his eyes’ were thinly focused on the speedometer as he sensed the pulverizing oppressions around him.

That was, you guessed, until he found a tempo that finally suited his rotational needs because just as promptly as he accelerated, the adrenaline-addicted man sharply jerked the Starfighter mid-race into a tight, unyielding roll.

The only word you could use to describe the sensation, was uncanny.

There was something about the way it dragged you from your awareness. The feeling of being simultaneously smashed together and ripped apart across every point of your body not only blurred your vision, but it seemed to draw you far enough away from your senses that you could barely feel the comforting touch of the Force. It was as if it flowed inches from your fingernails, but not close enough to wet them.

Still there, but just out of reach.

Instead, your entire experience centered on the raw rush of a repressive speed’s disconnected passions as the fighter’s rotations puckered.

Then, you felt a familiar twinge rap at your forehead’s center.

You tried to thrust it away, refocusing your attention on the feel of the increasingly searing metal under outstretched fingertips to ground yourself. But even as you did so, a new wave of clamoring throbs smacked you upside the head, blasting you into a new realm of haziness.

You knew the drill. An unpleasant, yet manageable headache like this one was sure to last a long while. The rest of the morning, perhaps, if recent history had any say. But they hadn’t prevented you from addressing more pressing matters. Like those involved with gunning a Starfighter.

Or surviving one of Anakin’s test flights.

At least, not up until this point.

By some means, the keen pulse that was now branching into your sinuses and across the bridge of your nose suddenly developed a more piercing vigor. Each jab increasingly resembled the perforations of a bayonet, as if some invisible force was repeatedly impaling your skull like a pirate digging for lost treasures. Time became relative while your entire dome felt like a massive, gaping wound, unlatched to a world of acidic fingernails that hungrily tunneled through the gash.

You retracted both arms from the cockpit’s flanks, allowing your body to writhe to the rhythms of spinning g-forces as you slammed each flattened palm against the sides of your head. While the agony deepened at a rate comparable to the twisting ship’s bolt, you pressed down on your sinuses, harshly, charged with the secret desire to squeeze out the pain with your brain marching inches behind if need be.

Just as rapidly, you could tell that you were reaching a breaking point in your silent fortitude. With the caliber at which this was worsening, you knew that, very soon, it was going to be too strenuous to keep your involuntary, disturbed vocalizations to a minimum. You couldn’t take it. It was too much.

You just needed it to stop.

You needed everything to stop.

“Stop…” you croaked weakly.

But it was too soft for the headset to register as the fighter continued its twirling trek with no acknowledgment from any passengers.

So you tried again, with just a tad more energy.

“Please, stop…”

Your depleted voice was washed away by the dogged bawl of the earsplitting siren which kept drenching your vision in cycles of cerise.

Another shattering knife ran through your skull with a burning fire that combatted that of the ship’s engines as it steadily milked your eyes for brimming tears.

You gasped.

“Anakin, stop!”

The Starfighter abruptly decelerated, steadily relaxing into a leveled state as the deadening drone of easing engines devolved into a bass grunt.

You welcomed the instantaneous airlessness that invaded your bones and softened your skin as the cabin depressurized. Somehow, in the seconds that followed, it had even given you a momentary burst of vitality, supplying a few seconds for you to reach out to Force’s boundless flow.

Yet, despite quickly intertwining yourself with its reassuring brush, the exquisite ache that racked your head was hardly tempered by the change of pace.

“My bad,” Anakin chuckled lightly. “Got carried away.”

There was nothing you could do to block the shaky breath that trembled past drained lips.

“Silvey?” Anakin questioned stiffly, having seemingly heard your pained exhale.

“What’s wrong?” Ahsoka intently inquired through a headset that truly felt light years away. “Did something happen?”

Out of barely-centered vision, you caught a bushy-haired shape in the main cockpit contort toward your form as a soft voice invaded your ears.

“Hey, are you…?”

“I think it’s time for Ahsoka to take my place,” you shoved out, gravelly voice nearly betraying you before you relented, resting your eyelids in a temporary rest.

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

@randomwriter435

@soleywoley

@burnthecheshirewitch

29 notes · View notes

zemkzone · 11 months ago

Text

I don't normally vent, but... TLDR: I was mugged in a city, a country, where I am a foreigner and the supposed friends who were helping me told another friend I was acting "entitled" to their help. It was heavily implied I had to APOLOGIZE to them. AITA or not AITA? I now have much bigger trust issues than I had last week.

Long version:

I've been living in the UK for almost 2 years, and I went down to London on Friday for a break from a stressful work-week. The first night went well, dinner and a show, and I fell asleep at a decent enough time to wake up early on Saturday for 9:30AM yoga with, for lack of a better term, friends of a friend. It was a relatively nice morning, so I decided to take one of the buses instead of schlepping my way down to the Tube (which I still call the subway most days coz, can you blame the proverbial Yankee visiting King Charles' Court?). I got off the bus in the City, what they call the business area in London as a whole, I have been made to understand. Google Maps told me it was an easy walk from the bus stop to the hotel where the yoga class was, but there were several alley/side road closures where the app wanted me to go. I was still on a nice, wide sidewalk, with few cars on the street and few people around me too. I paused at what felt like a safe intersection on that wide sidewalk, right by a modern glass building with CCTV hanging off it and CCTVs on the crosswalk traffic lights a few meters away. I was as far from the roadside as possible, and out of precautionary habit, I had my back turned to the road a little to protect the phone I had out in my hand. I was texting those sort-of friends that I was a few minutes out, and trying to get Google Maps to reroute me.

Suddenly, a black glove appeared in front of my face and my phone was snatched away by what looked like a man in an electric blue puffer hoodie, riding a bicycle on the sidewalk. I tried to chase him, but between the coffee I had to let go of and the duffle bag on my shoulder, it was hopeless. He disappeared around the corner I had been considering walking along myself, and I was left to ask for help from the four passersby at the crosswalk. Two of them happened to be a father and daughter (Brits, but also just visitors in London). The father wrote down my exact location and the time so I could report it to the police. When I said I had friends at a nearby hotel, he and his daughter helped me find my way to it. They didn't have to walk me in, but they did. "We'll wait here," he said at the top of an escalator, "and wait for you to give us a thumbs up if the receptionist has located your friends". The receptionist did, I signaled the two perfect strangers that all was well, and we waved goodbye as they headed off to continue their day.

What followed should have been an exercise in practicality. The boyfriend of one of those sort-of friends (let's call him M) and a hotel staffer helped me contact the police and cancel my debit card (which had been in my snatched cellphone's case). Two officers came to the hotel so I could give them my statement, etc. All the while, M sat with me, updating his girlfriend and the others who still continued on with their yoga session. The police asked me to take them to the spot where the crime occurred. M was still with me, and as we walked out of the hotel, his girlfriend (T) and more people than I expected (I'd only though I was meeting T and another friend I'll call W) came out to join us. I hadn't realized that a whole hour had passed since I'd arrived at the hotel. Their yoga session was over.

At that point, I was torn between (1) feeling marginally better because I had company who knew the city and (2) trying to keep it together in the face of everything that losing a smartphone in 2024 implies. After the police took down the added details at the incident site, T and co. asked me if I wanted to still go to brunch. I agreed since I needed to sit, was shaken, and, though I didn't feel it at the time, did need more than half a cup of coffee in my stomach. At the restaurant, I tried to stay in good spirits. Aside from T, M, and W, there were two people in the group I had never met before, and we were joined by yet another person. I managed to shovel down most of an avocado toast and an Irish coffee (I effing needed the boost). T and her friends had moved on from the usual "sorry that happened to you" and were playing catch up while I asked M where I could find my phone carrier and a place I could get a new phone. I'd come to the UK with the phone that had been snatched, and had only gotten a SIM-only plan with the carrier. I thought the practical thing, since I don't know how many more months/years I'd be in the UK, would be to buy a new phone, then have my carrier block the stolen phone's SIM and issue me a new one. M and I Google Mapped my options, added in my own hotel location so I could grab my passport on the way. I admitted that, considering everything, I (1) needed help getting navigating to those places from where we were and that (2) I didn't feel good enough to be alone just yet. We paid (I still thankfully have working credit cards) for our food and finally left the restaurant.

This is where, to my mind, the uncomfortable part started. Two of the extra 3 people (remember, I was only supposed to have been with T, W, and M, but they had a total of 3 other friends there too), and somehow what should have been a quick 20-30 minutes to get my passport from my hotel and then drop me off on the street with the phone and carrier store became 6 nerve-wracking hours with a too-large group. I said nothing when they started doing "for the gram" picture stops along the way. M went up to my hotel room with me when I got my passport. He took a photo of some passwords on my laptop that I might need when the phone or carrier store staff helped me with my phone. (In hindsight, we should have used pen and paper.) Then our group of 5 all went in what I assume was the direction of the two stores. W was navigating, and at that point, the streets were so crowded and I was getting very tense that I just trusted she knew what she was doing. In my mind, I kept replaying the mugging over and over, what I could have done differently, etc, etc. (I know what happened wasn't my fault, but at the time, I couldn't help it) and listing what I'd have to do first when I got the replacement phone and SIM. I didn't know T and co. well enough to tell them I was internally seeing red and trying not to spiral. Then, suddenly, we stopped walking... at a bubble tea place. I'd only vaguely heard what the group had been talking about as we walked along, since it seemed to be more Instagram/YOLO, etc stuff and no one was asking my input anyway. I smiled tightly and declined an offer for them to buy my bubble tea, opting to stand outside the store to work on staying calm. I didn't realize (hadn't been told) they wanted a break or anything, but I couldnt complain since I was literally dependent on them until I could get a new phone. We eventually got to the phone store, the last remaining extra person left, and I had to pay full price for a phone because as a foreigner I couldn't get on the monthly payment plans. T, M, and W, instead of just pointing me to the carrier store three shops down, came in with me and waited while I talked to the staff. At some point, W or T asked if I wanted coffee, and, while I thanked them for still being there, I declined the drink again. I thought they'd go off to a nearby café or something since I had paperwork, etc to fill. They and M never left. By the time I got the new SIM in the phone and the staff had advised me to go back to the store where I'd bought the phone to get help setting it up, M, T, and W were still there. They went back to the phone store with me, and T told me to stop being so anxious and sit down while we waited in the queue for assistance.

By then, it was almost 5 in the afternoon. The tech assistant helped as much as he could, since I was basically setting up my phone from scratch, but said I could do the rest with my tablet back at my hotel... or come back to the store with it before closing time so he could walk me through that part. T gave me a card with some of the friend-group's phone numbers, and she, M, and W still walked me to my hotel (I'm pretty sure it was unpromted, but my head was so foggy at that point from all I had done and still had to do). It turned out the hotel was a 10-min walk in a straight line from the phone shop. We got to the entrance to my hotel, I said thanks to them for being there the whole time, and they left. I handled grabbing my tablet and walking right back (in 5 min) to the phone shop to finish setup alone. The day ended with me exhausted, having a semi-functional phone that I'd have to wait to fully fix still when I got to my apartment (in a place I jokingly nickname the Shire) after the weekend, and crying to friends back in the States in a call over a lousy room-service dinner. I told them what happened, including my misgivings over all the YOLO stops, and they calmed me down and helped me a little more with fixing my phone.

I got at most two hours of sleep by the time the sun rose on Sunday morning... and then made myself presentable enough to meet A, the original London friend who had introduced me to T, W, and M where I first arrived in the country. I told him that while I was grateful for his friends' help the previous day, I didn't think I could go through that again. (I didn't exactly want to say "they're good-time people, but I don't know if I'd want the...awkward stops all over the place again if I were ever in another crisis around them.") What A said... upset me. T, M, and W had apparently complained to him that, while they still thought I was a lovely person (ah, Britishisms!) I acted "entitled" to their company the whole afternoon and was scowling too much. They didn't regret canceling plans for me, but I seemed "ungrateful in my human interactions with them". A all but said I had to APOLOGIZE to his friends.

I'm in my early 30s, with a no-nonsense, get-shit-done North American mentality and I'm aware my default expression, especially when I'm too tired, is RBF (resting bitch face, for those too young to know), and I feel terrible if I need to drag anyone at all into my messes. They're energetic and bubbly Brits in their late 20s. But they really could have left me at any point, just given me directions and left, and I would not at all have held it against them. Just like I was grateful and held nothing against that father with the kid who initially helped me after the mugging. Is this an AITA situation? Did I miss anything? Is this a subtle cultural/age/millennial-GenZ divide?

I'm still tired as FUCK, trying to get used to this new phone, and have a LOT of life admin to do suddenly after this whole weekend. If you have any thoughts or comments, whoever and wherever you are, feel free to say something.

#real life woes #american vs british mess #aita #not aita #i am just so tired

15 notes · View notes