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sanosoup · 3 years ago

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now playing…

…𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐭. 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬…

angst drabbles w/ bonten inspired by mitski lyrics!

♪ a/n: first post, why not make it sad ;) i might make a part 2 w others or maybe like another artist idk i just thought this might be a fitting post considering my theme wink. also this is just my interpretation of the little snippets of lyrics, def not trying to claim i know the actual meaning! this isn’t my best but i love the concept sooo pls forgive me if it’s a little rough 😰

♪ warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak/toxic behavior?, unrequited love, mentions of drug/alcohol use + addiction, mentions of vomit (nothing graphic), fwb relationship, just unhealthy coping mechanisms :) 16+ ONLY (<16/ageless blogs dni with this post or my account)

♪includes: mikey, sanzu, ran & rindou

#—mikey

—

“And then one warm summer night

I'll hear fireworks outside

And I'll listen to the memories as they cry, cry, cry”

- fireworks -

—

mikey hates summer, the lengthy days, some dry to the bone, some dampened by the morning fog that tended to linger throughout the day. he hated this day in particular, and he hated how he could see everything transpire from his apartment window, and how he couldn’t even pry his lingering stare from the festival if he tried. mikey couldn’t tell if it was just his rampant imagination, or if he could truly hear the merriment, the giggles, the sound of two lovers hearts beating as a symphony down below in the festival. he sat perched, waiting, listening, watching for even just a glimpse of a face that looked enough like you from how high up he was. there was no one, after all, he’s the one who extinguished whatever flame the both of you shared with his calloused icy fingertips as though it were nothing.

mikey hated summer nights even more, how the cicadas wouldn’t seem to shut up, even in the city; how the festival was still blooming with light and joyous calls of each other’s names. he hated how everything reminded him of you, and he hated how he never let himself feel you anymore. the image of you, engraved in his mind had been long drowned in the sands of time, your smile was nothing to him but ash. he tensed upon hearing cacophony of words that rolled off of people’s tongues all at once, perhaps maybe one or two of those words sounded like your name, but it never sounded right. why should i mourn? he questions, when there is nothing for me to mourn?

the sky lit up deep into the night, fireworks booming and cracking across the sky like explosions of vivid lightning sent from the heavens. each one a different color, impossibly shimmery as they hissed on their way down, burning out before they could ever reach the ground. mikey hates that when the bright hues of the night sky illuminated his face from where he watched on his balcony, all he felt was the way you’d squeeze his hand every time another boom would erupt. it was a special memory hidden deep in the nook of his youth he had since forgotten, something that made the image of your face and sound of your voice, laughter, your sobs, all so vivid in his brain. a hot tear rolled down his cheek. he hurt you, so in turn, in the most raw moments of the night, he feels his skin set aflame and burn in silence. the pain, nearly unbearable, made his ribs feel so hollow and his hands feel so heavy; quiet tears flooded his cheeks and raced to his chin, bracing to fall to the ground. this is what he wanted, isn’t it?

#—sanzu

—

“I am a forest fire

And I am the fire and I am the forest

And I am a witness watching it

I stand in a valley watching it

And you are not there at all”

-a burning hill-

—

sanzu has lost count of how many week long benders he’s been on throughout the years; it always started with a pill, a needle, a lighter, anything he could touch, and he’d almost always end up in your arms. you were a soft warmth, like sun beaten leather, a rough contrast to the unstoppable red roaring flames that were his highs and his coming down. sanzu must admit, you had since become a routine of his, he almost always relied on you to come around when he felt himself start to sink; he had a sickly tender regard towards your frantic drives to hospitals or scurrying across your house to give him something to throw up whatever he could in. he felt the least alone when you desperately held him against your chest and he listened to your heart race, did you really care for him that much?

sometimes he wished he wasn’t like this, a good man perhaps, good enough for you. moments when his head wasn’t clouded by whatever ran through his body were moments spent pondering what could’ve been. he wasn’t sure why he did this to himself at times, but when he thought too much about it, it made him want to do it again. to feel that rush of falsified euphoric splendor, to be free, to fall, and to land right in your arms where he was finally safe again.

sanzu was falling, almost certain you’d be there to catch him, he’d let himself. what a surprise it was when his head hit the cold tile and he felt as though his brain was splattered across the floor in a lovely medley of everything he never was. he had flown too high, drifting across silver clouds and stars, that he never saw you leave your steady position on the ground. it was too late when he realized you were all too smart for him; smart enough to realize that the uncontrollable wildfire ignited in the both of you was sparked only by him. he’ll stand and burn, he’ll let you escape.

#—ran

—

“I could stare at your back all day

And I know I've kissed you before, but

I didn't do it right

Can I try again, try again, try again”

-pink in the night-

—

ran, as cold as he likes to be, can not help that he holds a special regard for you; you made him utterly sensitive, like a child, tears brimming in his eyes at the smallest of notions that you wouldn’t be around anymore. how could he be so careless with something as priceless as his affections? you were, after all, just a friend with benefits. though, he couldn’t help but feel something in his chest churn and beat for more than the quick, hollow touches the both of you shared. he wanted every touch you graced upon his warm skin to be calculated, well thought out, as if seeking more than carnal pleasure.

he was still awake, so silent and weak in these hours that a brush of wind could possibly turn him to dust, nothing more. beside him, you lay, nestled up to your chin in his sheets as your chest rose and fell slowly with the gentle breaths of sleep; he stared, afraid that something so delicate as your constant breathing would stop, that there’d be nothing he could really do about it at all. the thought horrified him, it played with the chords of his tender heart as he stared at your back dancing with the slight movements of breath as his only solace. ran could truly admire the expanse of your back, shoulder blades peaking out in the slightest, and soft skin lit only by the silver licks of moonlight peaking through the windows.

ran never wanted to stop looking at your bare body under the covers, he couldn’t hardly contain himself when you lingered in his bedroom, a silent announcement that you’d stay until morning; it was cruel, the both of you knew this, to sleep beside each other as if it were anything more than it was. yet, in a sense, his stomach leapt with joy to pretend as though it was; he was high off of that faint extra beat in his heart he always got whenever he lied. ran drew in a breath as you rustled in the sheets, the sound of your body flooding his ears and making his heart leap to his throat. his eyes grew watery as he watched you fall back into the deep abyss you had been floating in before, he would miss nights like this when they came to an end, nights where he pondered if you would truly be the only person he thought of like this. ran sighed, surely you were once in a lifetime, and surely he hadn’t held you close enough; then, he was certain, you wouldn’t have left him grasping for answers as though they were there at all.

#—rindou

—

“I found you

I found the door

But when I stepped through

There was no floor”

-i want you-

—

if rindou where to die right now, he would be satisfied. satisfied that he spent his nights in your arms and his days lingering over you; what did you feel like, again? he forgets, only to remember when he touched you again. you were perhaps a dream, so quick and nonsensical, yet he thought of you quite frequently throughout the day. it had been that way since high school, “they’ve got a boyfriend, y’know?” he knew; and he knew when you had broken up, when you had gotten back together with him, when you moved on from him, and when you looked for another option in someone else, eyes always grazing over rindou. rindou feels hollow sometimes, always wondering if you’d ever be able to fill such an obscure nook in his heart that no other lover of his ever had.

he waited for the moments in which you exchanged touches in between separate lovers like windows of spare time you spent with each other; though, he found himself addicted to it, wanting more than you gave him, and when he found himself courageous enough to ask for more, you had already found someone else to give it to. rindou occupied himself with girls, boys and nearly anyone else who didn’t remind him of you, but his wistful imagination always wandered to the idea of you when he knew it was so wrong of him to even ponder your image anymore.

there you stood that warm night in june, plain and lonely, and he as well. the both of you shared freshly broken hearts, raw from the feeling you had peeled from them and tossed to the street as though they never served you any good. rindou wanted your touch again, he looked into your eyes and could see the hunger you held as well; though, this time was different. he felt like nothing more than a fool for doing this to himself, making his heart so numb and calloused that he couldn’t feel anything except for the parts of his lovers that reminded him of you. yet, when he touched you, his tender affections had extinguished at the hands of his own cruel treatment. so in love with the idea of not feeling for you, that he truly gave up feeling, rindou felt his throat swell and his breath hitch as he struggled to feel sad or angry. he felt nothing, nothing besides the cruel sting of disappointment.

perhaps in another life.

play again?…reqs and askbox are open!

©sanosoup 2021. do not plagiarize, translate, repost, or edit my work.

#[🕯]—angst #mikey x reader #sanzu x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader #bonten x reader #mikey drabble #sanzu drabble #ran drabble #rindou drabble #mikey angst #sanzu angst #ran angst #rindou angst #tw angst #tokyorev angst #tokyorev x reader

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bedbellyandbeyond · 3 years ago

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The Straw

(Story Post)

After a long day of work, the last thing Sydryn wanted to see was their refrigerator items strewn across the kitchen counters and floor while their sibling took a nap at the kitchen table. There were also several grocery bags among the catastrophe, heaped and overflowing with countless fluffy pink pastries. “What in the world is going on here?” Sydryn demanded, loud and stern enough to startle Seranan awake. “Sissy! What, oh…” Seranan sat up and looked around. “Oh, yes. I was just doing some reorganising… But then I got tired and took a nap, I guess.” “Reorganising my refrigerator? Full of my food?” Sydryn snarled. “Why in the world would you do this? Not to mention, you left the refrigerator door wide open!” “D'uh. How else would I access it during lengthy grocery reorganisation?” Seranan asked, propping up their head. “And I did it to fit in my groceries.” Sydryn picked up one of the shopping bags and held it open. “This is entirely roll cakes!” “Yes. Disgusting, I know. You can blame your little angel for introducing me. Now I have a wicked craving all the time,” Seranan groaned. “Don't blame Köbi for this! When did you even go out and get nine bags of these? You're not to leave the house!” Seranan rolled their eyes and tapped their phone on the table. “They have grocery delivery apps now. Join us in the 21st century, Sissy.” Sydryn fumed. “You of all dragons did not just tell me to modernise...” “Just because I'm a history hoarder does not mean I don't know how to use the internet,” Seranan huffed. Sydryn threw the grocery bag down and pointed to the hall. “Get out of my kitchen immediately!” Seranan rolled their eyes and got up, cradling their underbelly like it was such a struggle. “I bought them for you too, you know. The angel said they’re your favourite.” “Stop talking to Köbi!” Sydryn snarled.

“You should be happy we get along at all...” Seranan shrugged. “All your little pets typically piss me off.” “Köbi is not my pet, he is my employee,” Sydryn growled. “That kind of talk is exactly why I do not want you talking to him.” “Where is the little ‘employee’, anyway?” Seranan huffed. “He should be here to help clean up this mess...” “First of all, he is my assistant, not your maid. Second of all, I was going to ask you the same thing. I had to work late, so he should've been home over an hour ago.” Seranan shrugged. “I haven't seen him.” Sydryn sighed and stepped out into the hall. “Köbi?” they called up the stairs. Köbi poked his head out of the powder room just down the hall. “Yes?” “Ah. You are home. Seranan said they hadn't seen you.” “Huh?” Köbi walked over and looked into the kitchen. “You don't remember me coming in?” Seranan waved a hand. “How am I supposed to pay attention to what you’re doing all the time?” “But you asked for me the minute I got home. We had a whole conversation about where Syd buys their roll cakes,” Köbi reminded. “I thought that was yesterday.” “It was definitely today, because they would've been closed yesterday.” Seranan waved a hand. “Unimportant. Must have slipped my mind. Anyway, your employer's home. Shouldn't you have dinner prepared by now?” “You specifically asked me not to come into the kitchen since you would be occupying it during your delivery,” Köbi reminded. “Several times, I checked back to see if I could get dinner started, but you hissed me away." Seranan frowned and shrugged. Sydryn groaned and grabbed Seranan by the braid. “Clean up this mess immediately, or I will burn all of these desserts and you won't have any dinner tonight!” Seranan whined. “My tail! Sissy, that's so mean! You wouldn't starve a pregnant dragon, would you?” “Starve?” Sydryn motioned the plastic wrappers strewn across the kitchen table. “You've eaten twenty of these already!” “They hold absolutely no nutritional value, though...” “Then stop eating them!” “It's a craving! I can't help it!” Köbi waded through the sea of plastic grocery bags to get to the fridge. “I was going to make a roast, but I don’t really think there’s enough time, so how about…fettuccine?” “Absolutely not. I will vomit if I eat another beet coloured pink pasta noodle,” Seranan declared. Sydryn yanked their sibling’s hair again. “You’ll eat what you’re served.” They looked to Köbi, though. “I need meat.” “Okay… Uh, how about smoked meat sandwiches?” Köbi suggested. “Perfect. Thank you.” Seranan rolled their eyes. “Everything’s always smoked meat, pink pasta, rose tea, salmon, prawns, grapefruit…” With another swift yank, Sydryn spun their sibling around grabbed their wrist tightly. “Are you mocking my hoard?” Seranan snarled, scaling up under Sydryn’s grip. “…You’re hurting me, Sissy.” “Syd, let’s calm down…” Köbi said, reaching out to take the dragon’s arm. Sydryn flinched away. “Don’t! My sibling, whom I so graciously have been putting up and feeding while they escape prosecution for dracocide, seems to think they can have an opinion on how I run my house.” Seranan glared at Sydryn. “Colours are for children. Your hoard is stupid.” Sydryn’s eyes widened, a wild look of pure and concentrated wrath set ablaze inside them. “Syd! No!” A split second later, Köbi was between them, his hands up, his stance wide. Seranan was in shock, having been pushed back down into the kitchen chair, their sibling’s grip relinquished. Sydryn’s crazed look was gone, instead replaced with surprise and distress as they stared at the angel. Light dripped from his cheek as Köbi reached out and placed a hand on Sydryn’s shoulder. “Sleep.” “Köbi—” Before Sydryn could finish, they passed out, falling into the angel’s arms. Köbi grunted under the weight then sighed as they picked up the pregnant dragon bridal style. “You’re hurt,” Seranan finally emitted, slowly standing up. “They struck you.” “I’m fine. Just a little scratch.” Köbi wiped his cheek on his shoulder and the injury completely disappeared. “Better me than you.” “I would’ve been fine,” Seranan stated, straightening up. “Dragons can scar other dragons,” Köbi reminded. “And it’s Syd I’m concerned about. They’re strung out and emotional right now. If they really hurt you, I don’t think they could forgive themself.” Seranan frowned. “So, what are you going to do? They must be heavy…” “I’m going to put them to bed for now,” Köbi said, shaking his head. “But don’t worry about what I’m doing… If I were you, I’d consider cleaning things up around here a bit. Syd won’t stay asleep long. And I think after a long day, waking up to a meal made by family would just make my day. Wouldn’t you agree?” Seranan scrunched their nose. “…You can’t tell me what to do.” “I can’t. I can only make suggestions.” Köbi carried the slumbering dragon out to the hall. “I’ll come back in a minute to help.” The red dragon barely dignified that with a huff. Köbi just continued on, taking Syd up to their bedroom. As soon as they were tucked in, Sydryn began to wake up. “...Köbi.” They looked at the angel standing beside their bed. “Did I... Did I hurt you?” “No.” Köbi shook their head. “Must've been a bad dream.” “Angels shouldn't lie...” Sydryn sighed, rubbing their eyes. “I'm so sorry...” “No, I'm sorry for sleeping you without permission,” Köbi said. “I’m not supposed to touch you...” “You did what you had to,” Syd insisted. “It could have been bad... Is Seranan alright?” Köbi nodded. “Yeah. They're perfectly fine. Don't worry about them. Tell me about your day. What's got you so riled up?” Sydryn sighed and sat up. “Everything. I have patients who shouldn't be getting pregnant getting pregnant, almost getting pregnant, and I'm pregnant, and I also have to keep an eye on Gardi, even though he wants more responsibilities, and Ix and I are supposed to be collaborating on the celestial pregnancy research, but beyond that, they hardly say a word to me and I wonder if somehow I've upset them in some way... I don't know. I genuinely enjoy working with them, but not when they won't even look me in the eyes.” “Oh. Oh, um...” Köbi rubbed his neck. “Well, if you're worried about Ix, I think you should just talk to them about it. With Reid, from what I can tell, he's pretty much fully recovered. If you trusted him to manage your practice while you were away in the Fall, I think you can trust him now. And as for all the patients, maybe giving Reid more responsibilities would be a good thing. You really need a break. You're putting a lot of stress on yourself.” Sydryn shook their head. “I can't take a break. There's too much going on and even if I let Gardi have more responsibilities, he can't take all of them on.” Köbi tilted his head. “Well, right now, you really should just rest. When dinner's ready, I'll bring it up.” “No, I should probably come down and apologise to Seranan,” Sydryn decided. Köbi shook his head. “I don't think you're ready for that. Wait for them to come to you.” Syd sighed, laying their head down. “...Alright. Thank you, Köbi.” “Don't mention it.” Köbi made his way back down the kitchen where Seranan was now trying to stuff away their groceries into any empty cupboard space they could find. Kobi noticed some bread and meat had been pulled out and placed on the kitchen table as well. “Looks like you got started,” Köbi said delighted. “I’ll get the rest out, and—” “I don’t need your help, I am perfectly capable of constructing a few sandwiches…” Seranan growled. “Go about your business.” “Okay… I just wanted to add, um…” Köbi rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry I prioritised Syd in the situation when they lashed out. After what you’ve been through before, I can understand if this situation was…difficult for you.” Seranan’s eyes narrowed as they turned their gaze onto the angel in disgust. “If you’re trying to suggest that any of my experiences have left me weak with ‘emotional trauma’ or some kind of ‘victim complex’, you are sorely mistaken.” “Alright. Well, just so you know, you can always talk to me,” Köbi stated. “Actually, I’ve been explicitly told not to talk to you, and from this point on, I plan to follow along.” “Okay.” Köbi shrugged. “Well, I like pickles with my smoked meat sandwiches.” “I fail to see the one who asked!” Köbi chuckled before backing out. “Talk to you later, then.” “You will not!”

#lore #Sydryn #Seranan #Köbi #nbpreg #ovipreg

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khonaker · 4 years ago

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Wanted to try giving my take on characters, so decided to start with one of my faves!

Tokoyami and Dark Shadow Headcannons

Will forewarn, these will be full of fluff hcs, no angst (nothing against it, I’m just not good at coming up with it :p) Also, this might be word vomit lengthy, so another sorry in advance!

First, Tokoyami!

Goth styles he favors in particular: casual, Victorian, medieval, vampire and steampunk

He is not fluent, but know a good amount of English. He figured learning a second language could be beneficial as a hero.

He attributes his desire to become a hero to The Hidden Arts Hero, Dark Crystal. During a low point in his life, he happened upon a video involving Dark Crystal and was shook. This was the first time he had seen a person with darkness powers that wasn’t a villain! After seeing more and more videos and an interview with him, Tokoyami decided that he would strive to be a hero as well. He would strive to be an inspiration to those who could either have more of an animal appearance than a lot of society or for people who were ‘blessed by the void’ (have dark powered quirks).

Before moving into the dorms, he lived with his father, who is a pilot. His father does love him and shows it, but he is away a lot of the time, so Tokoyami had to learn to be self-sufficient.

The skulls in his dorm were passed down by a relative that was a Wiccan. He learned all about them and tried to incorporate some of their beliefs.

Has a small hand-made shrine to honor the actual god Tsukoyomi in his dorm. After taking up the name, he made it and vowed to bring honor to the moon god. If he performed well today, he gives thanks for receiving his blessing. If not, he asks for forgiveness and hopes to improve. Only a few people know about this. (Shoji, Koda, Midoriya, Asui)

At a young age, being compared constantly to a tengu, rather than hate it, he learned about them, which also got him to be fascinated with mythical creatures. Now, Tokoyami is the ‘Deku’ of mythical creatures, even having his own notebook filled with facts and speculations about them. Only Midoriya knows this.

Of all the teachers, Tokoyami relates and has the best relationship with Ectoplasm. He’s not crazy about the subject Ectoplasm teaches, but they share a lot of beliefs in common. Not to mention the fact that despite his intimidating appearance, Tokoyami can see how much Ectoplasm cares about the students and his fellow teachers.

As villains, Iida and Tokoyami are formidable since they have both speed and power on their side. However, both of them tend to get so wrapped in the roles, they both come across as overdramatic. Nobody has the heart to tell them that because they always look forward to seeing the two of them unintentionally act so extra.

At least once a month, Tokoyami, Koda, Asui and Ibara from 1-B go on a nature walk. Others join from time to time, but it is primarily the four of them.

Tokoyami and Yaoyorozu are book buddies. With a majority of the class not really into books and literature, they were happy that they found someone they could sit and simply appreciate a good story with.

Tokoyami once came across Uraraka stargazing coming back from training with Hawks. What they both thought might be a one time experience slowly ended up being a personal thing between the two of them when there’s a full starry night or a full moon.

Despite his strict attitude towards him, he loves Dark Shadow like a brother.

Now, Dark Shadow HCs!

Any family moniker or title Tokoyami uses on a person( Father, Grandma, etc.), Dark Shadow calls them that too. No one seems to object to it.

Father passed the bird aspects on, as well as his quirk, which is turning the feathers on his arms into a shield. Thus, Dark Shadow acts manly as a shield for Tokoyami a lot of the time. While one of the few things he knows about Tokyo’s mother is she had a sentient shadow quirk. ( Think Dr. Facilier from Princess and the Frog)

Because of his obvious avian appearance, it was easy for people to forget he was a sentient quirk/spirit/being of darkness and not an animal. Thus, when students offer him bugs, bird seed or shiny objects, he’s completely confused. When Koda explains why they are doing it, he asks them to stop.

He only has one similar trait to birds. Ravens specifically. Given enough time, he can mimic anyone perfectly. Boy or girl, young adult or old adult, he can copy them perfectly. When he’s bored, he does this to confuse students and it amuses him to no end.

He also DOES like head pats.

Does. NOT. Like. Bakugou. AT ALL. Not only did he make Tokoyami and him look like chumps in the Sports Festival, he constantly screams and berates Tokoyami and the other classmates. Tokoyami tries to remain civil towards Bakugou when he can, but DS won’t give him the time of day unless it’s to berate him or to stand up for someone. Thinks he’s too arrogant and mean to be a hero.

Developed a crush soft spot for Uraraka after Sports Festival. Not only does she (in his opinion) give the best head pats out of everyone, she was the first to treat him like an equal individual. (Aside from Tokoyami)

While he loves ratting Tokoyami out when he’s not being forthright with his emotions, he’s steadfast loyal when it comes to super personal stuff.

Despite being a little shit to him sometimes, he loves Tokoyami like a brother.

That’s all I can think of now. Feel free to let me know if this is just fine or if it’s too lengthy and how to improve! I do wish to do more of these in the future! Thank you for taking the time to read my own thoughts!

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fumikage tokoyami #dark shadow #tokoyami-centric #bnha ectoplasm #izuku mydoria #ochaco uraraka #tenya lida #tsuyu asai #momo yaoyorozu #mezo shoji #koji koda #ibara shiozaki #tokoyami headcanons #bnha headcanons #tokoyami hcs

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secretaryunpaid · 3 years ago

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19. any new fics to start next year?

😘

I am always hoping to write something new, but as of right now, I have no new series planned. I am hoping to get my head back in Becoming Mrs. Dalton to finally get it concluded. It has become a rather run on series because I keep losing my focus... although that could be my subconscious telling me that it isn't ready for it to end.

I had started writing a Sophia Russo fic on Wattpad, which has been unpublished along with my Robin Flores fics... I may get back to that... I was supposed to brush up on my Perfect Match knowledge to continue it, but dropped the series after switching the real Sophia Russo with a Perfect Match version...

My daughter liked that one over all of the others, so just maybe I will give another go... I will attach the stories below the page break below ... They would have followed The Jilted Bride found on the Love Fettish Masterlist…

Rating: explicit 🍋🍋🍋

youtube

Scornful Revenge...

Word Count: 3071

Rating: Very Mature Adult.

Characters: Sofia Russo, Selene D'Torte, Roeden West, Donatello (Sofia's bodyguard), Sol Lutíon, Harley

A/N: Voldemort has requested a meeting with Sofia. She has to give her bodyguard the slip, because no one can learn of her involvement with him. She enlists the help of her dear friend Selene D'Torte. But things take an unexpected turn, and public humiliation becomes the least of Sofia's worries. How will she handle this new turn of events?

After contacting Selene to come up with a ploy to give her bodyguard the slip, the two would meet at Selene's in order for her to seduce Donatello, giving Sofia time to make her meeting. Slipping a sexual stimulant into Donatello's glass of chilled water that Selena offers him as they chat idly, Sofia begins taking the food container's out of the warming bag, setting them on the dinette.

They begin to reminisce over their University days, as Donatello slowly takes in Selene's frame, from her voluptuous lips, down her neck to her large perky breasts adorned with her favorite necklace. He follows the trail of her hand as she coyly takes hold of the golden chain, slowly running a single finger against it as she laughs just as the S-shaped charm falls between her bouncing breasts. She notices his hard swallow, and softly asks, "Donatello, where did you receive your bodyguard training, I'm in des-perate need of {clears throat}... you know body services, and I hear that you 'get the job done thoroughly '... could you ... help me out?

As the lengthy bulge he has formed almost exposing his growing lust, he excuses himself momentarily. Selene and Sofia giggle amongst themselves. He returns moments later, attempting to regain his composure enough to formulate an answer. Selene then pretends to notice Sofia getting sick, and she quickly takes her cue and mimics almost vomiting. She rushes to the bathroom, faking gag noises while flushing. When she returns, she asks Selene if she minds her resting in her guest room until she feels better. "Of course, without question! Donatello and I can discuss body services as I show him the property. That way, he can better suggest services best suited to my... needs."

Entranced by Selene's insinuations, he tells Sofia that he won't be away from her long. He's pretty sure she's secured away from paparazzi... that is, if she is okay with him viewing the 'grounds', all the while fixated on the seductive look on Selene's face. I doubt you could do much about how I'm feeling right now. Please do me a favor and discard the food. That's the last time I place an order for take-out, we'll dine in from now on. I'm so sorry for ruining our girl time, forgive me while I take a rest."

After escorting Sofia to the guest room, Selene takes Donatello to her bedroom, to make sure it's ...burglar proof. As he finishes checking the windows and balcony doors, he turns to see her pouring glasses of champagne. "Please, don't make me drink alone. Sofia told me you were quite the gentleman. Mind if I test her words?, she asks, handing him the glass she poured for him, "From the way it sounded earlier, she will be out for a while. Whatever shall we do with ourselves?" She bats her lashes and presses herself against his muscular frame, downing her champagne.

As soon as she lowers her glass, Donatello takes her chin, gently angling her lips to meet his. Closing the distance, rising up on her tiptoes, she kisses him hungrily, shoving his jacket off his shoulders, quickly undoing buttons. His hands tangling in her hair, he tugs firmly, exposing her neck to him as he licks from her pulse point over her chin, thrusting his tongue against hers. He takes both glasses, easily discarding them, then eagerly removes her top, as she lets her skirt fall to the floor. Savoring the view momentarily, he easily lifts her, placing her atop of the dresser. He pushes her back against the mirror, angling her body for his access. He licks along the curves of her breasts protruding out from her lacy bra. Then licks down her center, reaching her navel teasing it with the tip of his tongue. The gentle spirals elicit moans from Selene, as she tousled his lustrous hair.

He looks up to make sure she has smiles of pleasure on her face as he moves lower, easing her legs apart... the heat from his closeness causing her to arch towards him, pleading for his touch. Teasing her sensitivity to build her desire for him more, he asks in a sultry tone, "May I service your body properly? You know ... show you just how well trained I am?," just as he licks her bikini line.

Inhaling deeply, she guides him lower. "Make sure to keep your eyes locked on mine, first rule." He slides the soft lace to the side, then gently strokes her center with two fingers. She can't help but to move into each stroke, until he slides them between her folds, causing her arousal to pool along them. Never breaking eye contact, he moves his tongue against her clit with a circulating pressure that causes her thighs to clench. Gently easing one leg into a bend, he strokes her at an increasing pace, licking away the juices pouring from her center. Once her breathing reaches a quick panting, her eyes struggling to focus, he raises, quickly removing his belt, allowing his pants to fall to his ankles, aligning himself to her entrance.

He grabs her ass and pulls her forward, holding her knee in place. "No tapping out, second rule." His veiny erection aimed to perfection, he entered her slowly, stretching out her walls, drenching his length, as he kissed her passionately. Once buried deep within her, not an inch left exposed, he slanted grinding pounding her most sensitive spots. He pulls her forward, telling her to suck her sweetness from his tongue... To taste what will have him coming for her repeatedly. His husky words cause her release, as she struggles for control.

The thrill he sends pulsing through her as he moves from a slow grind, to a near punishing thrust, pushes her into stuttered screams of enjoyment, heavily breathing out his name. Refusing to let her finish her orgasmic climb atop the dresser, he lifts her without breaking their connection. "Never give less than your best, third rule."

Walking over to the chaise, lowering her against its back, he straddles it... steadying himself against the head of the lounger. Adjusting her body's angle by lifting and cupping her ass cheek in his gripped palm, his strokes start out a slow hammer that rapidly builds, pulling her into the thrust, until they both cry out guttural moans of release. Falling limp, he lies against her as they both struggle to catch their breaths. "If she sleeps long enough, maybe we can cover rules four and five... but you'll need to have your strength up for those," he teases, as she wraps him in her arm, gently running her hand through his hair.

On to meet Valdemort, might as well face the music now rather than later... Sofia has slipped out unnoticed while Selene happily distracted her bodyguard. She borrows Selene's Benz AMG GT 63 S 4-door Coupe, and quickly heads to her destination.

Checking her surroundings to make sure she remains unseen, she slips into the usual meeting place. The small but sophisticated establishment was situated just an alleyway behind the former Eros Incorporated building. The coffee shop seems different today, maybe it's because her world has been completely upended. Making her way up to the barista, placing the usual coded order. The barista gives Sofia an approving nod upon handing over the hot brew, pointing to the side door. Entering through the door, and following the hallway down to the office where these meetings are usually held, she takes a steadying breath. Here we go...

There he is, Voldemort in the flesh (so to speak).... none other than Rowan West - former head of the highly exposed company Eros. The original and very human Rowan West did in fact meet his demise after falling from a roof. The man was egotistical, delusional, and psychotic. He was most definitely paranoid, as he modeled matches in his own image to be stationed at his multiple facilities.

This version of Rowan West was the most ruthless and evolved, surpassing the persona that once was his creator. He had mastered the ability to discern emotion in artwork, which was the tell all for their inhumanity. As each new and improved version changed in personality, their names did as well. He chose to go by the name Roeden West. (Roeden unscrambled is redone, so he felt the name suited him perfectly.)

As she entered, Roeden immediately moved to greet Sofia, leading her to the couch. He truly missed Sofia, her icy persona being a major turn on to his equally matched nature. She shuddered at his touch, the involuntary scowl forming on her face although she tried to mask it.

"Ahh, Sofia. I see you made it with time to spare," he begins as he kisses the nook of your neck. "Can we skip the small talk Roeden, and get this meeting over with? I truly don't have very long before Donatello realizes that I've gone missing. Selene can only keep him occupied for a brief time."

His sudden grip on her chin startles Sofia, as he forces her to look into his eyes, "Sof, let's not forget who is actually controlling things ... although I do so love to see your attempts to be forceful. Why don't you ever allow me the respect of letting me woo you first and then discuss business? Tell me, beautiful..." Sneering at his words, she snatches away from him, moving to the bar to fix herself a drink. "Pardon my manners Roeden, but I tried to stress to you that this has not been an ideal time for me. I will try to refrain from unpleasantries."

Sof, we are going on a trip... before you wrinkle that gorgeous face, I already have the solution on how to deal with Paolo. She will also handle your Dalton and Flores issues as well. "She?" Now Roeden has gained Sofia's full attention, peaking her curious nature. If she knew him as well as she thought, this was not going to be just some fluff and pampering, it could be potentially deadly. "Yes, 'she'... and when you're done pouting, I can have her join us."

"Roe... are... are you replacing me?... But I've done everything as you've wanted me to... The thing with Robin, is that what this is about? What could she possibly offer? I have been at this for years, and now... now that's just it?" Sofia's temper and scowl quickly flared... hasn't she gone through enough... God damn you Voldemort!! Her thoughts come erratically, she throws her glass, just nearly missing him shattering on the wall behind ... Before she can spiral any further, Roeden sends a quick text as he moves toward his ice Princess.

"Now then, since you can't curb that temper of yours, I WILL!" Roeden bawled out at Sofia, snatching her by the throat with a tight grip, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, almost gagging her, kissing with fierce desire and aggression. He takes her hand, forcibly gliding her palm against his meaty arousal. He pulls away, pressing his mouth in her ear. "Shall I teach you a lesson Sof? I have REPEATEDLY expressed to you how much handling business first over your TANTRUMS means to me..."

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Without waiting for a reply, he presses her against the bar, grinding against her as he runs his hand inside the slit of her skirt, tightly tracing her inner thigh. As his fingers walk upward towards the place she dreads his touch the most, he commands her, "CONSENT!" He presses his tongue against her pulse point just above her collarbone's center, judging her level of fear, before raking it up her throat, over her chin, and back into his torturous kiss.

Sofia trembles, eyes struck with fear, beginning to well with tears she is determined will not fall. He won't break her, she's held strong this long...She tries to gain her composure, but his grip on her throat tightens almost cutting her breath. With a firm thrust, he shakes her, as if to her senses, giving an aggravated growling last attempt, "CONSENT, SOF... or be FORCED to SUBMIT!!"

Legs giving way from her wrecked composure, she barks out, "TAKE ME, ROE !", with a deep exhale. The demand barely falls from her lips, as he rips her lingerie without effort, lowering himself to her quivering center. His tongue thrusts are eager, deep, rough, and relentless... a painful pleasure...

He means to give punishing pleasure to this woman that defies him so easily... who forgets the danger he poses... who simply refuses to be his possession. He won't give into her tantrums or feminine wiles ... not until she learns to dominate him. Tantrums only earn Sofia one thing, sexual torment, but this is a character flaw she has yet to master. Truth be told, Sofia enjoys this aggressive role play with Roeden.

As Roeden takes her wetness, savoring the taste of her forbidden fruit, he forces her to ride his tongue, gripping her ass cheeks, rocking her steadily against it with hostility. No matter how much she resists, the thrilling touch of his tongue against her, the adrenaline stealing pressure of his nose circling her clit, takes over causing her to ejaculate harder with forced moans of pleasure, her pupils darkening to a pinpoint from the high. "Ro-o-oe!," she breathes convulsively. Feeling her release, Roeden gently licks in long strokes as her flow comes, then kisses her clit as if in reward as it subsides.

As if showing compassion, he takes an ice cube from the ice bucket and traces her soreness, occasionally inserting it inside her. He kisses her peckingly, forcing the taste of her body from his mouth and tongue onto hers. Holding her tightly against him, he whispers, "Can't you taste my weakness? You always cum hard for me Sof..." Sofia remains silent in her euphoric emotional state... violated, satisfied, and strangely enough... safe. He would never penetrate her with himself unless she truly wanted him to, even in his animalistic nature.

He picks up her discarded lingerie, touches it to her center, then sniffs her scent. I'll discard these later, and have new ones on the way. He fixes her another drink, gently placing a kiss on her forehead before handing it to her. "Compose yourself, we have guests arriving."

She moves into the private bathroom, the sway in her walk now dramatized. Once inside, she views herself in the floor length mirror. The reflection isn't of herself, but the shattered remains of an unsupported daughter, a discarded fiancée, and a woman interrupted... Who has she become? How could she have found so much pleasure in his torment?

Realizing delay will only lead to infuriating Roeden, she moves to the sink to freshen up her eyes. Her fingers clenched tightly against the basin, she allows a few tear drops to fall before gathering herself. "Robin..." is her last thought as she makes her way back to Roeden's side.

As she takes a deep steadying breath, the door opens with the entry of his guests. Harley greets Roeden as Sophia looks on, unable to blink, totally aghast, as the second guest approaches her. Unable to fathom the reality of the person she is staring at face to face, she turns away to silently seek explanation from Roeden.

Unable to fathom the reality of the person she is staring at face to face, she turns away to silently seek explanation from Roeden

"Well, Sol? Aren't you going to introduce yourself? Don't leave the lady speechless."

"Sofia Russo, meet your stand-in, Sol Lutíon, well, my technical name is Solution. I'm the Siren replica of you. It's so great to finally meet the woman behind my persona... The woman with so much power and perfection that I have to update multiple times a week to replicate flawlessly. Oh, and thanks, I guess, for visiting Eros' Perfect Match office years ago. You know... kinda wouldn't have been here if you hadn't..."

Sofia immediately fears Roeden has decided to completely end her existence. "Roe? Please elaborate on ... 'Sol' and the trip you mentioned earlier... please Roe-, Roeden."

He leads her to the loveseat, motioning for Sol to place the Louis Vuitton travel bag on the cocktail table, giving a head nod towards Harley. I know that you have a lot of questions, and I plan to answer them all. Briefly, she's who Dahlia walked in on with Robin at the rehearsal dinner, the one who went Gala shopping with her while you were doubled over with food poisoning, the one who helped your little "revenge tell all" go off without a flaw... oh, almost forgot to mention that she replaced you at the engagement party after I called you... you came out to meet with me, she went in causing a minor scene... she even went home with your 'beloved Sam'." Right now, she's the woman delivering your new lingerie. Later, she will be who Donatello returns home after Selene's done with him... or shall we call her Sydney?..."

"Wait, Sydney...why? Why would 'we' call her that?... You didn't?"

"Selene is fine, off in rehab after breaking down when Dalton-Russo stock crashed, along with her investment. We just send in Sydney when she has these moments, or when interacting with Dalton Enterprises... can't have your 'friend' jeopardizing our years of hard work, can we?"

The reality of Roeden acting out a plan he has not privileged her to set in quickly. Sofia would need to indulge in this 'trip' if she's truly going to have a chance to uncover any intel on his plan. After Keegan had gone rogue, exposing Rowan West, Roeden wasn't as open with Sofia as he had been in the past. How was she going to gain intel of this Siren Project to make sure she isn't disposed of, and to recognize when her friend Selene has been replaced by Sydney? She would definitely have to put attempting to make things right with Robin on the back burner...

~~~~~~~

Becoming Sofia ....

A/N: Parts of this chapter refers to Chapter 10 in Robin Flores, Mr. Underrated (Lies and Betrayal)

Characters: Sofia Russo, Roeden West, Selene D'Torte, Donatello, Paolo Russo

Word Count: 1994

Rating: Mature

Sofia's thoughts were sporadic as she made her way to the airport:

I never would have thought my life could get more complicated, but I was clearly wrong. Here I am on the tarmac, boarding a private charter with Roeden... headed to God knows where, feeling worse off than when Sam left me embarrassed in the cathedral before my father...

I once was a champion at manipulation. It was simple... Sam was business focused and so was I... until they came along... My bastard born sibling, and that young cunt of a nanny... I was the obvious choice over both of them... Yet, here I am... aboard this plane with Roe... I need a stiff drink... or two ... or ten. Sofia, how could you have fallen into such disgrace?

As she prepares for takeoff, Roeden tries to offer comforting words,"I know you don't think so now, Sofia, but I always have your best interest in mind. You'll always hold a special place in my heart. Hey... I have all of the time in the world to wait for you... Maybe, one day you might actually find that I am what you need."

She has never hid her disgust from Voldemort... Roeden, but her body actually craves him. He's her opiate in artificial intelligence form. He's willing to be anything she wants him to be. As mental as it seems, she finds him attractive and her safe haven when she needs an escape. That's how she fell into this bottomless pit in the first place. She found his assertive nature arousing. His presence commanded respect, and he made things happen without delay. What disgusts her isn't his robotic makeup, but his superiority complex. Hell, if she was honest with herself, she was robotic in nature, just human in form.

As the plane ascended, she reclined the luxury seat, closing her eyes... visions of returning home to her Italian Villa disheveled after a night of secret sex with Robin... hair in disarray, makeup smeared, face and neck flushed... still feeling the effects of his movements into the next morning ... A single tear falls from her eye... How could she have been so power hungry that she couldn't see her future before her eyes? Then it hits her ... she didn't think she could ever fully trust Robin again after... after the car accident... after losing their twins. Not wanting to relive that unbearable pain, she sits up looking for something ... anything to numb her thoughts.

"You know that I am here for you Sofia. You can work out whatever it is on me... however you need to. No pressure." Hearing Roeden's words, she rushes to the bathroom, needing a private moment to think. She soaks a cloth in cold water, dabbing her face, though careful not to flaw her makeup.

As she looks in the mirror, she can see and feel Robin embrace her from behind, both in robes, playfully nudging his arousal against her... kissing the length of her neck ... teasing her breasts through the robe ... waiting for her resolve to falter. "Shit!" She turns for a brief moment breaking the vision, but the feeling remained. Turning back, she only finds her reflection.

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Now achingly aroused from memories, she props a heel on the toilet. She starts to mimic her vision, unable to overcome the need to feel his touch. Her hands snake upward from mid thighs, after pulling the slit of her skirt aside, back pressed against the door. Breaths escalating as her fingers separate the lips of her vagina, feeling steam flow over them as she teases her clit... tapping it for arousal while the other grips her inner thigh almost piercingly. Sliding her hand across her folds until her fingers delve inward, stirring her juices as she works circular pleasure around her nub. Her self pleasure climbs in intensity as her hips buck in time with her finger strokes, whispering Robin's name.

Gyrating, thrusting, grinding against her fingers, now three deep, she squeezes her clit. As she reaches her orgasmic cliff, she moves her finger to her mouth, sucking with such force that she crests, and falls into a spasmodic release. She immediately falls to the floor, tears flowing freely. No matter the touch, no matter the vision, it just wasn't Robin... She needed his lips against her body in every way. Still throbbing in her core, she forces herself up, snatches the door open, speed walking through the cabin.

She reaches Roeden, kissing him with such aggression his erection forms immediately. She straddles him, ripping open his shirt, kissing and sucking against his chest as she presses her center against him, her lust craze taking full control. He tears her blouse open, pressing her into a backwards arc, pulling her against his winding hips, kissing and sucking her bosom. She grinds against him as if she will lose life if she can't feel his hardened length.

He reaches between their bodies and frees himself, anxiously lining up with her desperate organ, moving her laced thong aside with his tip, finally thrusting into her. "YES, ROE! YES! Don't stop, I need it rough... Please!" Gripping her shoulders, he stands with her, pressing her back against the window, and pile drives his length the way she desires. Each thrust jolting her body hard against the window, pushing her forcefully up his core as she claws him, searching desperately for his eyes, only finding a clenched expression of enjoyment. Angrily she yells for him to stop. He looks at her puzzled, but pulls away from her... his length giving her a firm salute.

"What did I do wrong?" She remains silent, her tears now flowing so freely her shoulders shiver as she cups her breasts in her self embrace. She can't bring herself to face him. "Oh, it's him... Robin. No problem babe, you know I was practically made for this shit. I can put the voice encryption on for ya, I can give it to ya just like you like it from him. Close your eyes and think of him... Hell, call out his name for fuck's sake. Just don't hold this in, Sofia. That will hurt you more. Let me give you whatever it is you need..." He lifts her chin, kissing her lips tenderly. "What is it you want Robin to give you, babe?" She continues to silently sob, but doesn't push him away or withdraw.

He presses his wrist and a small keypad is exposed from under his tattoo. A Robin Flores file decryption is entered, as he has stalked Sofia through devices connected to Robin's private network... self pleasuring along with their unintended porn, storing data for future ... needs. Unsurprised in the least, Sofia awaits Robin's words... his sexual behavior, eyes closed displaying the sex scene before her as Roeden speaks against her ear in Robin's voice. "Sof, let me take care of you... tell me what you need, and it's yours..." Coming undone at his words, she gently says, "Taste me, Robin... you know just what my tears call for..."

****** Sofia's visualizations ******

Robin lowers her to the cabin floor, first to her knees, then to all fours. He squeezes her ass, jiggling her cheeks before giving a stimulating slap. He moves behind her, gently stroking the length of her back, teasingly separating her legs as he slowly glides her skirt up her thighs. Lowering himself between her legs, he gently suctions kisses down her ass, making his way to her center until... "Yes, Robin... just like that..." As she breathes out sighs of pleasure, he swirls his tongue going deeper with each spiral until he is nose deep. He flicks his tongue at hummingbird speed, gliding forward and back as his thumb stimulates her clit.

Slowing his pace to long strokes, pulling out enough to lick up to her clit, gently sucking, moving back to slurp her juices, kissing her ass while groping her wantonly. His animalistic devouring of her center brings her creamy release flooding over his tongue as he laps her doggedly, thrusting her crotch against his face for intensity. She moans, "Robin, finish me, please."

He mounts her ass, giving her rocking thrusts, his scrotum spanking her pleasurable. His downward thrusts cause gushy acoustics and she ejaculates against his engulfed rod. A melody that excites him, not so silently telling that he is doing his job properly. Nearing his expulsion, he pulls upright, back to chest, arching backwards, stabilizing them with one hand on the floor. His plummeting strokes provide a massage that drives her near hyperventilation, as she begs him to move harder... faster. Supporting her breasts with an arm across her chest, gripping her right tit, she reaches back pulling his mouth to hers for a searing kiss, edging them both into a heated eruption. He unloads as her flow rushes over him, groaning the words, "I miss you Sof... I will always love you."

Her reply, eyes now open... "Thank you ... I owe you a derby later. I promise to give it to you without tears, without ... Robin." She gives him one last tender kiss, before they separate. He carries her into the bedroom, and they lay together. Him spooning her ... stroking her hair until she drifts off from exhaustion. Roeden watches her protectively, silently loving the feel of her body against his. With hours left still of their flight, he lays staring, listening to the easy hum of the jet engines.

****** Sol's time to enter as Sofia's stand-in ******

Meanwhile, Sol has returned to Selene's, as she parks her Benz, Donatello exits with a look of disapproval. She exits the car, brandishing ginger ale. "I didn't want to disturb your thorough search of her 'property', so I ran to a nearby store for antiemetic sand ale. I came back straight away." He doesn't fuss, she gave him enough time to go over rules four and five. Plus, she actually seems to be in a less hostile mood. "Just let me go in for a bit to thank her, and explain taking her prized possession, the we can head back to PaPa's." He follows her back inside, and a little while later Selene walks them out, kissing Donatello. "Maybe you could come back soon for a refresher, who knows, we could make it through rule ten, she says giving him a knowing wink."

Arriving back at Paolo's, she goes to his office and tells him that she thinks it best if she addresses the public. She can explain both sides, hopefully soothing curiosity and mending family tensions. She also offers potential solutions to prevent from disbanding the merged companies. For the first time, Paolo genuinely takes her suggestions and adds suggestions that he allows her final thoughts on. "Thank you for finally trusting me PaPa. Truly this was all we ever needed to merge with Dalton Enterprises. I partly agree with your motives, but PaPa... I'm in love with Robin."

Paolo falls back into his chair. "Sofia, do you realize the trouble we could have avoided had you just talked to me. I never thought you would pursue happiness, so I pushed you to that cheat... I would never have believed he would behave as he did." She walks around to his chair and leans into a hug. "I love you, PaPa." She returns to the armchair, and opens her laptop. "Now hope for a miracle, I am emailing Sam. Let's hope he is willing to talk ... I'm marking it high priority. If not, we will address the public together Papa. The three of us... I'm going to visit Anthony." Paolo's smile reaches his cheeks, wrinkling his eyes which are welling with tears.

'It may take a bit of time PaPa, but I will save myself in the end. I will make you proud, yet."

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jungshook69 · 4 years ago

Text

Love is a myth :: 03

DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t represent the members’ actions or the army’s actions in any manner it’s pure fiction. This is an original work, do not copy. The taglist is open if you want. Taglist is now closed.

WORD COUNT: 4.3K words

MAIN PAIRING: musician! Yoongi X waitress! female reader

SIDE PAIRING/S: Jungkook X female reader ; Taehyung X female reader

GENRE: FWB! au ; Strangers to lovers! au

WARNINGS: Implied smut (Forgive me cuz I suck at writing it, no puns intended) ; Mentions of alcohol and smoking (I do not condone smoking) ; Profanity ; Mentions of infidelity ; Heavy angst ; Self loathing (Namjoon’s about to wack me in the head with his slipper) ; I apologize in advance if there’s any spelling errors.

SUMMARY: "You covered your bare form with the silk sheets beneath you, as you watched him walk out your door without a word." // "Love is a myth. All that existed between you two was pure lust." // "The last rule was if anyone of the two of you caught feelings for the other, the deal would be off."

SERIES MASTERLIST: Trailer » Meet the cast » Chapter #1 » Chapter #2 » Chapter #3 » Chapter #4

STATUS: Complete

It was a pleasant morning, and you thought it couldn’t go any better. At least that’s what you thought, before your luck was inevitably snatched away from you.

You heard a gruff voice clear their throat, in close proximity to you, before they spoke up, “Y-Y/N?”

You looked up through your round lenses, and your jaw dropped open at the sight. Your eyes roamed the man’s face, unwilling to blink. It took you a nice long 10 seconds, to find your voice, which still came out small and slightly wavered, “J-Jungkook?”

“Hi…” his soothing voice managed to mutter, his shocked expression mirroring your own.

“Long time no see…” you say with a heavy breath.

You observed his figure. His beautiful doe eyes were shining with the same sparkle as they did back when you both were lovers. His face had gone from being a bit boyish, or babyish as you liked to call it, to a bit more structured. His jaw had sharpened, although there were no visible wrinkles lining his face, except for some adorable smile lines beside his crescent eyes. His hair was far different from what is was back then. You used to call him coconut head, in owe to his soft brown hair that lay across his forehead. But now his hair was much longer, and a dark shade of black, lengthy enough to be easily pulled back into a man bun. His shoulders were broader and his body looked much more buff, and his arms were fairly big as compared to a few years ago. He was adorned in black trousers and a white button down, with the top 2 buttons undone, giving you a slight peak at the tattoo you had grown to love, on his right collarbone.

“Do you mind if I take a seat beside you?” his melodious voice asked softly, contrary to his rough exterior.

“Y-yeah sure…” you said, shutting your journal close and making room for him on the small park bench.

You lay your hands across your lap, unsure of what to say next. But he saved you the pain and spoke up first, “How have you been?”

“Good… you?”

“Great…” he said his gaze fixed on the playground.

“Still married?” you ask. You want to mentally slap yourself for letting such a question slip, before he interrupts your thoughts.

“Yes… you see her?” he says pointing to the playground. Your eyes search for a female, perhaps the same height as Jungkook, but your eyes widen at what he says next, “You see that small girl with pigtails on the swing?”

“Y-Yeah…” you manage to speak.

“Her name is Hana, she’s my daughter.” He says letting out a deep breath.

“O-Oh…” you didn’t know why you were surprised. He was married. It had been 6 years. Of course he had a child. You watched as the small girl giggled, as a woman with straight platinum blonde hair, a smile on her lips, stood behind the swing and pushed the little girl back and forth.

“And that’s my wife… Sana.”

“Wow… you got a whole family… nice…” you cringe at the words that left your mouth. You felt a twinge of envy. How did everyone around you have their life so put together? Were you the only one who would never settle down with a special someone? Were you only made to work and never love?

“Not the family I envisioned, but none the less, a happy family.” He whispered to himself. “So… you seeing someone?” he asks.

“Not at the moment no…” you speak, ashamed of your toxic lust-induced lifestyle.

You share a moment of silence, both of you keeping your eyes fixed on the playground. “Y-You still where that?” Jungkook spoke up.

“Huh?” you looked up to see him pointing at your fingers which were unconsciously playing with the band of your silver ring. “O-Oh yeah… umm… just— yeah I wear it… it looks cool…” you cringe in disgust at your word vomit, knowing he wouldn’t buy it.

But he knew better, and didn’t question it further. You laid motionless as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. You were mad at him. Infuriated even. He left you in the dust. But at the same time, you loved him dearly. He was the only one you could trust in this cruel world. He was the only real thing that happened to your young naïve 16 year old self.

You immediately froze in your spot when you felt a warm touch of skin on the back of your hand. You looked down to see Jungkook’s tattooed right hand laying over your hand, which was on your lap.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m sorry for doing what I did and hurting you.”

Your eyes were glossy, tears threatening to overflow, as you fixed your gaze on the woman and the small girl in her arms, as they walked into the neighboring convenience store.

“We weren’t meant to be…” was all you could muster out.

“We were meant to be… I was a coward.” He says, his hand not leaving yours.

“Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault, I pushed it too far, by planning to run away.” You try sounding cold and stern, but it comes out as a whimper.

“The people were right…” he says, his finger absent-mindedly playing with the ring on your finger. “…the timing was wrong.”

You control your rapid heartbeat as you feel a tear slip out from your right eye, staining your cheek, as the drop slid down the length of your face. You hear the loud piercing sound of his ringtone, before he picks up the call and puts the phone up to his ear, his hand never leaving yours. You hear the loud voice on the other end.

“Baby, I got the diapers, I didn’t see you anywhere. Will you come to our car in the parking lot?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in 2 minutes.”

“Okay bye baby!”

“Bye.”

You here the beep of the phone call hanging up as you feel his figure shift next to you. You gasp as his hand tightens his grip on yours. You swear your heart stops when you feel his other hand turns your shoulder to face him. This is the first time you’ve looked straight into his eyes, in the last 6 years. He looks at you with the same warmth and guilt, as his large hands clasp your tiny ones.

“I missed you.” He huffs out.

“I missed you too. But you have a family to get back to.” You sigh sadly.

“I hope we meet again Y/N.”

“I don’t.” you mutter out too low for him to hear. It was too painful even thinking about seeing him again.

He stands up, his figure looming over yours, before you decide to do the same. He then leans in and wraps his arms around your waist, in an all-too-familiar manner, which breaks the last wall you’ve been holding up. You feel his breath skim the skin on your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine. You feel his warm cheeks brush against your collarbones. You try to hold yourself back from surrendering and dropping yourself in his strong arms right then and there. He slowly backs away from you before you could do so, “Bye Y/N…” he says giving you a sad smile.

You’re unable to form words, as your hands feel cold, needy to feel his warmth again. You watch his retreating figure, until he disappears behind the rows and rows of cars. You slam your journal into your sling and run back home as fast as your feet can carry you. You promised yourself, you would never let another man get to you. You’d never let another man, make you cry for him again. But you never expected the same man from your past, to break you a second time.

The first 10 minutes after you reached home, you just blankly started at the white wall in front of you. The next 20 minutes were spent with you cleaning up the mess after you broke a glass plate in anger. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You’d never been so devastated in the last 6 years. You’d learnt to control your emotions, and to not take love seriously. But when a certain someone had walked into your life for a mere 20 minutes, all of that had gone down the drain. You felt helpless. You felt powerless. How could a man have such an effect on you?

You were on the ground sweeping a few remnant glass shards, when you heard a soft knock on the door. You opened the door to reveal a smiling Yoongi, a rare sight you would’ve teased him for, if it weren’t for the horrible morning you’d had. His smile immediately dropped on seeing your red eyes, concern washing over his features, “You okay?”

“Yeah” you mutter out uninterested, walking back into your apartment. You watched him drop his phone and keys onto your shoe stand, as he took off his beanie placing it down, ruffling his soft hair.

“I was actually gonna ask you if you wanted to get an early dinner together, some friends from my college are meeting up. What would you like? Maybe ramen, ooo how about gimb—”

“You can go without me, I’m not feeling too well…” you say trying to stop your voice from cracking.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“Yeah…” you say louder than you intended to speak.

“O-Oh… ummm okay…” Yoongi says before you here the jingle of his car keys and the click of your front door. Yoongi wasn’t one to pressure people into doing things. He liked giving people space. As soon as he left, you let your tears flow. They were unstoppable. You were still wailing, as your form dropped to the ground, even though there weren’t enough tears to flow out.

It was 9 PM. Your eyes were puffy and your sinuses hurt from crying for the past 2 hours. Your head was throbbing and your empty bedroom was filled with the sounds of your sniffles. That was before there was a loud knock on your door.

You slipped out of your bed, still dressed in your pajamas, as you made your way to the door. You peeped through the hole and saw Yoongi’s form leaning against the door frame. You opened the door and made sure to turn around immediately in a feeble attempt to hide your mess of a face.

“Hey sorry to disturb I left my beanie here.” He said picking it up. His eyes narrowed as you walked back towards your bedroom. “You can close the door on the way out.” You say, failing to contain a crack in your voice.

Yoongi notices and closes the door, with him still inside. “Y/N, seriously what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, I just have a cold…” you sigh, your back facing him.

You hear his consequent footsteps getting closer as his hand lands on your shoulder, whipping you around. His eyes widen, as he sees your puffy red eyes, and distraught face stained with dried tears.

“A cold huh?” he says his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah…” you say softly, sniffling.

“What’s going on Y/N?” he says, his tone serious.

“Why do you care? You’re my fuck buddy, not my counselor!”

“I’m your friend, before any of that.” He says sternly, before he grabs your petite withering form in his strong arms for a tight hug. Your face collides with his firm chest and before you can overthink it, you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face closer into his warm neck. His hand threads through your hair as he whispers, “It’s okay I’m here��”

You woke up to the sound of a phone ringing off the hook. You were quick to realize that it wasn’t your ringtone. Your eyes fluttered open as you realized the position you had slept in. Your arm remained draped over Yoongi’s chest, and you were snuggled into the crook of his arm. You were leaning into him, while he had slept partially upright on your couch. Your legs were covered by a blanket, while Yoongi’s feet were propped up on the coffee table.

It all came back to you. How you had cried onto his shoulder for the umpteenth time that night. How he had cuddled your shivering form and insisted to stay with you, afraid of leaving you alone. You carefully let go of his sleeping form, trying very hard not to wake him up. You reached over to see a phone call from an unknown number, and put his phone on silent. You checked to make sure he hadn’t woken up. You got up and pushed your hair into a neat ponytail. You blinked hard to get the remnant sleep out of your pupils, as you tried to decipher everything that happened yesterday. Yoongi had stayed over with you… why? It went against the rule you’d made in your agreement. You weren’t complaining though because you needed someone last night. And you were more than glad that it was Yoongi. You just didn’t take him to be the type to break the ‘cuddling’ rule.

You cleared your mind of all these thoughts, brushed your teeth and took a much-needed shower. By the time you were out of the shower, in your work clothes, you found Yoongi awake, sitting upright on the couch, his head hung low, hands cupping the back of his neck. You slowly walked towards the back of the couch and laid your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs extending to press into the back of his neck. He visibly flinched, not expecting your presence, but soon relaxed under your touch.

“I’m sorry, your neck must be hurting because of the uncomfortable position you slept in last night…” you say, with a guilt-ridden voice.

“No it’s okay…” he hummed out.

You make your way around the couch and sit next to him. Confrontation. It was the solution to every problem. “Seriously, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have forced you to stay last nigh—”

“I stayed… because I wanted to stay.” He says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the time?”

“O-Oh… it’s 10 am.”

“Don’t you have to leave for work in 10 minutes?”

“We have to leave for work.” You say chuckling.

“O-Oh… I was actually thinking of not coming in today… ya know… my back hurts and stuff…”

You were suspicious of his stuttering but decided that you tortured him enough, and just let it slide. “Well I have to leave, you can take a shower if you want, you already know where it is, and please close the door when you leave, okay?” you say grabbing your purse and your coat.

“Yeah sure… hey Y/N?” he says.

You stop in front of the door.

“Are you okay?” he says sincerely.

“Yeah I am, thank you Yoongi…” you smile and leave for work.

While you were in your own little bubble, occupied at work, Yoongi, having showered and carefully locked up your apartment, was headed to a certain someone’s humble abode, on his day off. He stood before the wooden door, as he knocked, waiting for his doom residing on the other side of the door. The door opened to reveal a familiar female, long pink hair pulled into space buns, her lips chewing on a pencil.

“Yoongi… didn’t expect to see you back here after a month… come in…”

“Actually I’m gonna make it quick” Yoongi says rubbing his palms together. “Where is Maria?”

“Oh she actually had to turn up at work, they were understaffed today…” her pink-haired roommate said.

“Oh okay thanks for your help.” He says leaving the doorstep, headed back to the restaurant. He walked in, and his eyes immediately searched for you. You were nowhere to be seen so he assumed that you were probably back in the kitchen. Then his eyes searched for a female with a short black bob, in uniform and spotted her at a table, close to the washroom. He walked up to her and tapped her shoulder.

“Oh Yoongi, hey…” Maria said, surprised to see him.

“Yeah hey, can we talk?”

She smirked at his question, assuming that wanting to “talk” was code for a hook up. She latched onto his collar and pulled him discretely towards the washroom. Before Yoongi could protest she slammed him against the empty washroom walls.

Yoongi never got to say, what he wanted to, what he had gone all the way to her apartment for. His mouth was clasped shut when Maria’s heavily-glossed lips landed on his own. He struggled to push her off, but before he could pry her off of him, he heard the sound of a toilet flushing, and a washroom stall door creaking open. He finally pushed Maria away and met your eyes, widened in shock.

You stood there, horrified, as you watched Maria smirking at you, an eyebrow raised in a challenging manner. You looked over to see Yoongi panting, against the wall, his lips swollen and smeared with Maria’s red lipstick. You held your whimpers in, and merely walked, no more like rushed out of the humiliating scene.

You walked out the back kitchen door and took in a deep breath. You calmed yourself down and did not allow any tears to flow. He was kissing her. So what? You were no one to decide who he kisses, much less sleeps with! You both had mutually decided upon staying anonymous about your personal affairs. Then why did it hurt? Why did it hurt to watch another woman lunge herself at that man? Why?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Maya’s voice, “Hey ummm… the customers are starting to line up, we need your help.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You respond facing away from her.

“Okay…”

Back in the washroom Yoongi watched you leave, his mind in utter chaos. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi asks in frustration, turning to Maria.

“You were the one who wanted to ‘talk’.” She says scoffing.

“Yeah I wanted to ‘talk’, literally talk.”

“Don’t lie to yourself Yoongi. We’re both hot and we both obviously have a lot of sexual tension between us. What would it take for you to let go off her puny ass for once and give us another try?”

“I already told you! When I slept with you a month ago, it was a mistake! We were both shit drunk!”

“What does she have that I don’t?”

“She has some god damn respect and dignity. She doesn’t just throw herself at me, when I say no. No means no. At least she respects my decision.”

“Jeez what happened to you Yoongles? You were never like this… like a lost puppy following around that bitch Y/N.”

“Don’t you dare call me Yoongles.” He says, his tone dead serious. “And look in the mirror when you call Y/N that.”

“You’re just as fucked up as she is.” She says scoffing.

“Just stay away from me. I’m never gonna come back to you and sleep with you. Give up already and find someone else to latch onto.” With that Yoongi leaves the washroom and exits the restaurant, feeling an unhealthy amount of guilt in his heart.

When you got absorbed into work, you couldn’t care less about Yoongi’s absence. But your eyes did drift over to the young gentlemen who was playing in Yoongi’s place today, and everytime you looked over, your eyes would drop down in disappointment of the person that met your eyes. Maria pretended like nothing happened and you went along with it. Confronting her would lead nowhere sensible.

Soon it was night time, well more like early morning time, and you were walking down the dark midnight streets, Jackie and Mark by your side. You had all decided to walk to a bar down the street and have a few drinks before turning in for the night. You needed to drown your misery in shots, and were more than happy to receive an invitation to accompany your friends.

“Y/N?” Jackie spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t be mad…”

“Oh no, what did you do?”

“I observed that you sorta looked sad today. And I wanted to cheer you up…”

“Oh no…”

“I’m afraid to say it, but yes… I kinda reached out to a good friend of Mark’s and set you up on a blind date for tomorrow night.” She finishes.

“What?!” you exclaim.

“I’m sorry okay, but I thought you needed to brighten up a bit…”

“First of all what were you thinking, setting me up on a work night? It’s Tuesday tomorrow for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s the only time he was free! He has a busy schedule okay?” Mark defends, looking up from his phone screen.

“Ohh Mr. businessman is busy. I hate boring people, I’ll pass.” You say rolling your eyes.

“He’s a model… wait for it… for Gucci.” Jackie says, eyes shining.

“Keep talking…” you said, suddenly interested.

“His name is Taehyung. Age 24, same as yours. Aspiring to become an actor. Currently a model for Gucci. Also… he’s a god damn work of art.” Jackie says.

“I should be jealous, but I can’t lie, he’s too pretty to be human.” Mark says pitching in.

“Hmm…” you quietly think to yourself.

“Please, just try it out once? Get out there, have some fun!” Jackie pleads.

“Why the fuck not? YOLO right?” you say chuckling, heading to the bar, to drown all your obsessive thoughts.

Unlike waking up to your neighbor’s baby screaming loud enough to summon Satan like always, you wake up to a throbbing in your forehead. Your eyes scan your surroundings and finally focus on the clock on your wall. 11 am! You had to be at work in 15 minutes. You ran around your apartment, your brush in your mouth, one hand through the sleeve of your white button down, the other searching your dresser for your hairbrush.

You were at work. Even though you were 15 minutes late, and looked as though you had just survived a hurricane, you were still present, and that’s what mattered. Luckily, Mark had taken care of inventory for you, so that left you with enough time to polish yourself in the restaurant washroom before the doors opened for business. The washroom brought back unwanted memories from a day ago, but you ignored those, and focused on fixing yourself up, trying to make yourself presentable enough to match the class of the restaurant.

You were in your pajamas, happier than ever, watching a really good kdrama, ‘Its okay not to be okay’, definitely recommend 10 outta 10. Your work shift had ended early. You all had gotten a call from the owner and manager Kim Seokjin, that there was gonna be an extermination. You couldn’t be happier as you relaxed into the comfort of your couch. It hadn’t been 3 minutes into the new episode, when someone knocked on your door. You groaned in irritation.

“Just as it was about to get good.” You huffed out and approached the door.

You opened the door to a rather dim looking Yoongi. “Oh hi… ummm… wassup? Were the only words you could form.

“Can we talk?” Yoongi asks rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sure come in…” you say stepping back and closing the door behind him.

“I’ll get straight to the point…” Yoongi sighs. “What you saw, it wasn’t what you think happened.”

“What’re you talking about?” you asked chuckling nervously.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Y/N.”

“Oh that… yeah right…”

“Listen, I just want to clarify that yes I did sleep with Maria a month ago, back when we never used to talk, when we used to ignore each other 24/7. But I haven’t slept with her since. What you witnessed today was me telling her to back off, but she kissed me without my consent, and you happened to walk in at a bad time.”

You let out a huge sigh and folded your arms. “And why’re you telling me this?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. To that, you poke again, “I don’t control who you sleep with or who you choose to date Yoongi. We had a deal. We don’t get involved in each other’s personal lives.”

“Well I’m sorry if I seemed to be ‘involved in your personal life’ after we told each other something that I thought was personal to both of us.” He speaks out, in irritation.

You looked down at your ring and remember how you had told him about your past. You remembered how you both had shared a moment, sitting at the piano, which reminded you of the fact that he had also shared his past with you. But you were scared, terrified even. You were scared to let someone close to your heart again, afraid of being left alone again. You were frightened that someone would finally get through the tough walls you’d put up around yourself, and steal your fragile heart, only to break it into a million pieces again. The pain was too much.

“Well maybe we shouldn’t have shared that with each other!” you yell out without thinking twice.

You heard nothing but silence on Yoongi’s end. It took a minute before he spoke up, “So you regret it huh?” his voice alarmingly calm.

“I-I- I don’t know…” you say, unsure guilt settling in your heart.

“Well that just about explains every fucking doubt I’ve been having about this relationship.”

“That’s not wha—” you protest.

“Save it.” He said sternly. “I made a mistake. I tried to get us to be friends. We should go back to our old ways. Just text each other when we’re needy, and ignore each other at all other times. Got it. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” He storms out of the apartment, slamming the door with a loud bang on the way out.

You felt a tremendous guilt envelope your heart. You didn’t want things to go the way they did just now. He was never the issue. It was you. You were the coward who had commitment issues. And you didn’t want him to waste his time trying to get you to open up. This was the only way. You were never suited for love. It was always lust.

«Previous :: Masterlist :: Next»

A/N: Don’t forget to follow @jungshook69 for more content:) You can check out more works of mine here. Have a great day:)

TAGLIST: @kookieebangtan

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veliseraptor · 4 years ago

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why the hell not! let’s play this game again. the 150 words meme is back - send me one of the numbers from below and I’ll write 150 words in that project. you can send me up to three. if you don’t recognize a project/want to know which one it is, the WIP masterlist is here with some brief descriptions.

let’s go!!

1. He paused, considering one more time, and then wrote, I am going to heal Xingchen.

Xue Yang jerked. Then laughed, though this time it was harsh and humorless. “Right,” he said. “Sure. That’s nice, Zichen, but it’s not possible, maybe you didn’t hear but there’s not - not enough-” His voice choked off and for a moment he looked like he might vomit, or scream, and then the sneering snarl was back in place. “Xiao-daozhang did too good of work destroying himself. Thanks for that, by the way. I have to give you credit.”

Song Lan let that brush past him, over him. Or tried. I don’t care what you think is possible or not. I am going to find a way to mend his soul so that he can rest. His mouth twisted, and he added, thanks to you, I have time.

Xue Yang was staring at him with narrowed eyes, wary and cornered-animal. Song Lan erased what he’d written and went on: I am not going to let you die. If you behave, maybe I’ll let you speak to him once in a while. He wouldn’t. But he wasn’t going to feel guilty about that lie. And if you live long enough to see his soul mend, he added, after a moment, I’ll let you beg on your knees for his forgiveness before you die. (Walking Far from Home)

2. “You said,” Xue Yang said, slowly, as though he was just remembering, “that you had a friend, a close friend, and you fell out. Was it him?”

Xiao Xingchen was quiet again, his breathing soft and ever so slightly strained. “Yes,” he said, finally. “We...he was hurt because of me.”

The oddest thrill went through Xue Yang. Yes, he thought. He was, wasn’t he. And then you were hurt because of him. There was something nice about that. Symmetry, sort of. “What do you mean,” he asked, because Chengmei wouldn’t know.

Xiao Xingchen hesitated, then shook his head. “It isn’t important. He lost...I believed he didn’t want to see me again.”

“Guess you were wrong,” Xue Yang said. Wish you hadn’t been.

“It seems so.” There was something soft and hopeful in Xiao Xingchen’s voice, and that fist curled in Xue Yang’s guts again and yanked. He set his back teeth and waited until he thought he could control himself to speak again. (tell you my sins (you can sharpen your knife))

3. So it turns out that if you touch the tendons of a dead person’s wrist and channel a little bit of spiritual energy just right, it makes the fingers twitch and curl like they’re still alive.

Xue Yang’s not totally sure how it works, exactly, but he’s been playing around with this corpse for a while, seeing how far he can take it. If he can make it hold a brush, for instance, but it seems like the control isn’t quite fine enough for that. There might be a theoretical application for this knowledge somewhere, but right now he just sort of finds it funny. (Abattoir)

4. “Do you want to keep standing out here in the rain like an idiot or do you want to come with me?”

Wei Wuxian blinked a couple times, both to try to avoid the rain running off his eyelashes and to confirm that he wasn’t experiencing an especially vivid and lengthy hallucination.

“Guess I’ll come with you,” he said after a few moments to collect himself. Jiang Cheng jerked his head in a nod.

“Good answer,” he said, and turned to march in the direction of Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian tagged after him.

“Don’t suppose you brought another umbrella,” he called.

“No,” Jiang Cheng said. “Maybe next time you’ll remember to bring your own.”

A few steps later, though, he fell back and moved the umbrella to the side. It wasn’t really big enough to cover both of them, but it provided a little shelter from the pouring rain. (an aging wound)

5. Time passed. Without benefit of light, she did not know how much, so she wasn’t certain how long it had been when she woke to someone standing in the doorway of her room, leaning against the frame and watching her with bright, intense eyes.

Wen Qing stared at him. He smiled at her.

“Hey, Wen-guniang,” said Xue Yang. “Fancy seeing you again! I heard they burned you alive.”

She stood up, careful to keep her face calm and unaffected. She didn’t know him well, not personally. Their interactions had been fairly limited, by design. She’d found him once sitting with Wen Ning, apparently telling him a story, and for all his laughter and smiles there was something sharp in the way he’d looked at her brother. Curious in the way a cat was curious about a bug.

Wen-guniang! he’d said when he’d seen her. This is your brother, right? He’s so much fun to talk to. (fall apart, destroy, release)

6. Jin Guangyao’s expression remained placid. “If there’s anything I can assist with, Chengmei, you know you only need to ask.”

“Really?” Xue Yang said sweetly. “Thanks, a-Yao. That’s really nice of you.”

Jin Guangyao’s mouth twitched, but it turned into a dimpled smile before Xue Yang could quite decide if it was toward a laugh or a frown. Very briefly, a stupid part of him sort of missed this. The good with Jin Guangyao had been good.

Pity the bad had meant stab wounds and being left to die in a ditch. Besides, he liked his new life better. (Mutual Friends)

7. His shixiong was strong and damnably smart and had survived being trapped in a cave with no sword and a legendary monster. He was out there, somewhere.

Jiang Cheng just had to find him, and he would.

But there was also a war to fight.

Jiang Cheng squared his shoulders. Fine. He could do both. They’d shoot down the Wen sun - and as he carved his way through their armies, wherever Wei Wuxian was, Jiang Cheng would find him.

His left hand clenched. He missed holding Sandu - he wanted its familiar weight in his hand, the comfort of its presence. But of course it was locked away in a Wen stronghold.

Suibian would be there too, and some stupid part of him briefly imagined that if he could retrieve Suibian Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be far behind. (in our respective ways)

#prob won't actually write any until after work because i'm trying to stay moderately on task BUT #meme #fic excerpt #confessions of a frustrated writer

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bcdtouch-a · 5 years ago

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So I have yet to really delve into this because it’s still a major thing that i’m processing and grieving over. put under a cut for spoilers and lengthy text. Im just word vomiting and need a place to organize my thoughts as i process all this.

Shigaraki will likely be waking up soon, and when he learns what happened to Twice he will most likely be fucking devastated to some extent. How he’ll handle it, however ---i’m still trying to piece out. Shigaraki has ways of coping and handling with intense rage and usually, from what we’ve seen, it’s in the form of lashing out and destroying things. His quirk having been shown to be intensified by his emotions, i’m sure will run rampant.

If Twice is actually dead (I will be very surprised if he isn’t), this means the League of Villains suffered a major loss both in power and ally. The League is like a little tight-knit family and there have been so many things both small and big that show they look out for one another. But Twice has always been there to be the kind of brother of the group, always caring about them and worrying about their health and safety. He’s obviously loved the way he feels so at home with them. He just wants them to be okay.

Back to Shigaraki. He cares about the league. Yes, he’s a villain. Yes, he’s a murderer and has done and attempted terrible things --- WHICH is why I love his character so much. His compassion and ability to sympathize with others sets him apart from most stereotypical villains. He can look at world views and scenarios and see the flaws in all the cracks and pick them apart with precise details because he’s able to empathize with those who are in similar shoes to him, as well. He’s hit rock bottom, he knows what that looks like and what that feels like. Just like Twice. And most everyone else in the League of Villains -- they are very much his family and the bond they have is strong. They’ve stuck with him this whole time, while they could have just said sayonara and dipped when things got hard. They chose not to.

There’s something that Shigaraki says in Chapter 231 though that still sticks with me.

He’s livid. The MLA kidnapped Giran and because of this, made Twice worry and freak out. Shigaraki KNOWS how much Twice cares, and the fact the MLA had managed to manipulate his emotions and send Twice into a breakdown begging to save their friend (regardless if the MLA knew of Twice and Giran’s relationship) struck a raw fucking nerve.

When Shigaraki finds out one of his friends has been killed. He will 100% use that motivation to strike back against the heroes with an unhinged ferocity. I really don’t know why i’m posting more evidence, but. I feel the need to talk more in-depth about this.

“Playing around with people’s feelings like that. I WON’T FORGIVE YOU.”

the people who’s feeling will likely be impacted the most now due to all this? Toga and Dabi who were the closest to Twice out of the League.

Their body language and expressions say it all. How much they trust eachother and care for eachother. They just lost a friend. :(

I’m excited to see how Shigaraki responds to all of this, especially knowing Dabi was the one who let Hawks in regardless of what his judgments were at the time -- regardless if he trusted Hawks or not.

the moral of the story? Don’t fuck with Shigaraki’s friends.

Both the heroes and the villains are going to suffer major losses in this arc.

#spoilers #im literally just word vomiting and trying to like #organize my thoughts #but this is what i have to say about the chapter in regards to how shigaraki will act #ooc #character analysis

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loki-fanfic-whore · 6 years ago

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Consumed ch.5

Warnings: triggers galore! Sexual situations/ self destructive thoughts/ harmful situations/ manipulation/seriously shitty twists/ horrible grammar

@onceuponagleepottermindlock @drakesfiance @jessiejunebug @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @imagine-that-100

Chapter 5 Control

Loki allowed you to cry into his chest until you were calm.

"I must confess something to you my little flame." He spoke in hushed tones as he petted your hair.

"I think I have fallen for a fire giant...and I wish to worship you if you will allow me to." You felt elated but your heart was throbbing in a strange combination of joy and worry. Your hands and wrists were black and swirled with wisps of smoke as Loki gently undressed you and kissed every inch of your flesh making sure to spend lengthy amounts of time caressing and kissing your most intimate parts. He smirked as you panted, you were being very careful not to grab his hair nearing close to releasing.

"My darling, may I take your innocence away for me to keep forever?" You moaned gently and arched your back as he flicked his tongue against you. He was teasing you close to the edge.

"Yes, oh God Loki, please..." you whimpered out and he was within you. The pain and fullness sent your head reeling as you two pushed each other over the edge. He was so tender and gentle with you making sure you were okay every few moments. After a while he quickened his pace and groaned your name. Your own waves of euphoria crashing down over your body. You could feel him filling you with his seed. A sadness sank into your stomach. You would never be able to truly give yourself to him...not as a fire giant and he as an ice giant. You wouldn't be able to touch him while making love if you couldn't control the flames. He spent the rest of the day cuddling you in his arms until it was time to go. Loki dressed you again and held onto you bridal style as he teleported. You squeezed your eyes shut and swallowed down the bile. The journey making you feel nauseous.

"Darling? We are here." He spoke gently placing you down on a soft bed. You peeked through your lashes to find he had brought you to some form of hotel room.

"Where are we?" You whispered still feeling incredibly sick.

"Brussles. I am so sorry little flame but I have to keep moving you. To keep you safe." Loki pushed some hair from your face and gently caressed your cheek.

"I need you to get stronger before we can leave this realm. If teleporting makes you ill, then the bifrost will surely incapacitate you." You held your stomach and groaned. It felt like you would gag any moment.

"Loki- trashcan!" You whimpered out as he quickly obliged. He held your hair and rubbed your back while you heaved all of the broth you had ate.

"I knew it was too soon....I'm so sorry my darling." He waited till you were done vomiting then presented you with a cool washcloth to wipe your face.

You say back against the headboard and painted trying to get the dizziness to stop.

"Loki where will we go? Once we are off of earth?" You weren't accustomed to his realms and didn't know hardly anything about them.

"Well...Asgard was destroyed by ragnarok...your father did that. You should be proud." He laughed but you didn't see the humor.

"Muspelhiem was destroyed by Thor...so that leaves Vanaheim, which is the land of Seidr and snobs." He smirks at his own joke.

"Alfheim, land of light elves, Nidvellir, land of the dwarves, Niflheim, land of ice mist and fog, Helheim, land of the dead and damned, and finally Jotunheim, land of the ice giants...where I originated from." Loki counted them out while you listened.

"Loki...can I even flourish in your world? I'm a fire giant...I'm the last fire giant...Thor and Surtur made sure of that." You felt sadness wash over you. Your species will extinguish with you, and you dont even know anything about them.

Loki put his arm around you and brought you close to his chest shushing you gently.

"Shhh I know its overwhelming. I was the same when I discovered my heritage...We will go anywhere you want. And if you do not want it after a while we will keep going until you feel at home." His kind words were enough to hurt your heart. He was so kind to you all of the sudden. So gentle and caring, when before he never treated you so fragile, he would yell and scream and be snarky...did he see you in another way? Perhaps he did really love you in some way, but this nagging feeling in your mind made you wonder if you could truely stay with him. After all...ice giants and fire giants were enemies and together could cause so much chaos.

Loki pulled your chin upwards so his deep green eyes could scan yours.

"Tell me what's wrong darling?" His breath fanning your face.

"...tell me the truth...you would never trick me right?" Your voice was soft and trembling slightly. His eyes turned dark.

"Who has said this to you? Who has planted this hurtful idea in your mind?" He pushed back from you to stand and pace before the bed. His reaction worrying you more, he never denied it. He never said no.

"Why in all the realms would you think I am against you? I am hiding you from shield!" He tried to keep his temper in check but it was breaking through as his voice rose.

"I swore on my mother to you! On Frigga herself that I would protect you and keep you from them."

You felt the queasiness again as you tried to stand.

"Loki- what if shield is right? What if I am too dangerous, I mean...there is a reason Thor destroyed surtur and Muspelhiem...I'm the last of them...me..maybe I need to d-" he pushed a finger to your mouth forcefully.

" Don't you dare utter that word. I swear to the gods of old I will never forgive you if you say you should perish. I don't care if you are the last woman on any realm you deserve to live and be happy as anyone else." His eyes were wide and dilated in anger. He was visibly shaking.

"Yes, but what if they come for me and I can't control myself again...what if I hurt innocent people...I would deserve to be thrown in a tank for eternity. I-I dont want to hurt anyone."

"Listen to me. You just need control. People die every day! Catastrophic events happen every single day darling. It's just something that happens to no ones fault. If I could just get you strong enough we can take on shield and get you out of here!"

Your eyes widdened. Did he just say take on shield? Does he want you to fight them? Horrifying images of your once teammates mangled and lifeless at your feet flashed before your eyes. You backed up away from Loki with your hands up.

"I-I can't. Loki I can't fight them.. I can't be a pawn in this game..."

You felt the door behind your back as he stepped closer to you. Tears pricked your eyes.

"No, please stop...don't do this. I need you to be level headed. Please let's talk. You are too weak and they will never let me near you again. Please. Little flame. Don't. Dont go." A single tear slid down his cheek as he reached out with a trembling hand.

"I'm sorry Loki...I- I can't cause the destruction of the avengers or earth... please...don't try to come for me...I- I deserve this." And before he could chase, you had slammed the door and ran.

You ran down the street like a psychotic woman until you found an obviously abandoned building and screamed letting the tears flow. Your body erupting into huge catastrophic flashes of fire. Cracks of light broke through your ebony flesh as you pushed as hard as you could. The building was in flames within seconds. You fell to your knees and sobbed, your clothes burnt off, your hair hanging around your face in small dirty clumps.

A hand gently held your shoulder as your head slumped down. Your fire becoming extinguished as you realized how tired you were.

"Lady Embers...I need you to come with me..please...try to control yourself." Thor spoke softly.

"I wont fight you Thor....I'm done fighting...just...throw me back in the tank." You stood and let your head hang. You felt utterly defeated.

"I-I have to put these on you as a safety measure...I'm so sorry..." your tears dripped onto the floor as smoke rolled off your skin. Thor held out the shackles and you held your trembling arms out. Allowing him to shackle you. You felt the energy draining away as you became utterly exhausted. You stumbled and fell. The now cold ash floor smacking your face, cutting your eyebrow. Thor scooped your shaking body up and held you close. Walking you out of the building before passing you to Natasha who wrapped a black blanket around you to hide your nakedness.

"I am so glad we found you safe. We were so worried Loki had brainwashed you. That we would have to fight you." Natasha gently wiped your face and tucked your hair behind your ear.

"Let's get you home." She smiled gently and walked you into the jet that was waiting nearby. Laying you down on a bench in the back. Tony behind the controls smirked as he could see Loki watching from a near by window. He held up a suited hand and waved at the God. Loki snarled and turned, but not before Tony saw the glint of tears on his cheeks.

"Did he hurt you?" Bruce asked looking over your body.

"N-no...quite the contrary...I think I broke his heart." You mumbled feeling the numbness in your chest. You just wanted to disappear. To be swallowed up into the ground.

Bruce frowned and began an assessment. Gently pushing and poking various places on your body before taking a small flashlight and looking into your eyes and throat.

"Tony she needs to go straight to the lab. She is-"

"Yeah yeah we will get her there." Tony cut him off as he jerked the jet up and hightailed it out of there.

Thor moved beside the bench and held your hand. You stared upwards into the light feeling incredibly numb. Almost as if the flame within your chest was finally nothing but embers.

"Bruce..she is what?" Thor urged him on.

"Thor...I think she's dying." Bruce whispered. You closed your eyes as a tear slipped down your face.

"Are you happy? It's consuming me." You whisper aloud.

#loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #im sorry #loki #slow burn #thor odinson #but i hate everything i write #thor #bad grammar

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traditional-with-a-twist · 5 years ago

Text

ix. Beauty and Her Beast

@bubblesthemonsterartist “he doesn't trust himself around a single shirayuki “ - no better way to describe my interpretation of how Obi would respond to this whole situation, you are so spot on!

<<Previous || masterpost || AO3 || Next>>

Prince Zen was the closest Lord Haruka ever had to a son.

In the absence of Zen’s actual father, and Haruka’s having an heir, the lord had overseen the second prince’s upbringing with all the gravity necessitated by a role that would ultimately bear influence on the destiny of their kingdom.

He had entertained high hopes for the second prince. Zen was impetuous, recalcitrant, even lazy at times, but he knew his duty as a Wisteria.

Haruka had overseen his growth from a rebel child to a heroic leader. He had been looking forward to Zen’s taking on greater responsibilities, proving himself a worthy ruler.

Now that was all over.

...

Another man might have been inclined to brood, thinking of what might have been and what would never be. The promise of a young life cut short, the shadow cast over the future of Clarines--it was enough to weigh down the thoughts of the most dedicated civil servant.

Lord Haruka allowed himself no such indulgence.

The morning after the funeral found him treading a well-worn path to the first prince’s office door. While the sun lingered below the horizon, and the castle reposed in the heavy stillness of a sleepless night, Haruka presented himself for business as usual.

The funeral preparations had already created a lengthy--if necessary--delay. Matters of state could afford to wait no longer.

...

He was gratified to find the first prince already at his desk. With scarcely twelve hours elapsed since the sun set on his brother’s funeral, Izana had returned to work.

Haruka inclined from the waist with one arm bent across his chest. He performed the formal greeting appropriate to the juxtaposition of their ranks with mechanical exactness, a formality he has never eschewed in all his years of service to the royal family.

As the ranking lord of the southern holdings, Haruka had dedicated his formidable resources to the Wisterias with unwavering loyalty. His fierce obedience to duty, inflexible memory for detail, and fearless execution of his assignments had distinguished him as an invaluable ally, both in domestic and diplomatic affairs.

The invasion, the war, the loss of their prince--these are yet more storms that his steady eye has watched Clarines weather. The kingdom will emerge from it stronger than before, he has no doubt.

...

He is preparing a statement to this effect, as a gesture of support and encouragement to their young ruler, as he raises his head. The words are on the tip of his tongue when his eye falls on Izana’s desk.

Papers flood the polished surface: maps, reports, logistics. Like a messy afterbirth, battle leaves behind it lists of wounded, rosters of the dead, updated supply catalogs, and dwindling inventories.

Over all this, Izana has unrolled a map. It reveals the political boundaries of his kingdom, with precise lettering denoting each of the major cities.

There is nothing relevant about it.

The map is too generic, the scale too large to give any assistance for managing Clarines’s internal affairs. If anything, it shows the surrounding territories in greater detail.

It gives Haruka pause, deepens his habitual frown a shade darker. His prepared speech sticks in place as he tries to make sense of it.

...

Izana acknowledges him with an elegant salute. “Well met, my lord Haruka. You are just in time for the night watch’s report.”

He wore mourning like the moon wore the night: The white attire allotted to royalty rendered the fair prince even fairer.

In the pre-dawn dimness, he gleams like a naked sword - an unbroken line with a keen edge.

...

At his signal, the captain of the guard entered.

“Your highness, forgive my troubling you at this hour.” The captain bowed deeply, springing upright again with the urgency befitting an alarming report:

“The guards have confirmed sightings of an intruder.”

“Oh?” Izana propped his chin against the heel of his hand. He received the news with unruffled equanimity, even amusement. “Who is it?”

“Identity unknown, your highness, but we believe it is a bandit.”

...

The report’s description confirmed as much. The guards had marked few physical details, only the behavior: stealthy movements, taking cover in the trees. They suspected he wore dark earth tones for camouflage.

“A lone bandit? How unusual.” Something like a smile lurked in Izana’s expression.

Haruka struggled to match the prince’s calm. His high collar felt tight against his throat, his heavy jacket hot as he tried to quell his rising anger.

...

The audacity was intolerable.

Wistal Castle was an impregnable fortress, an inviolable sanctum, the seat of the Wisterias power in Clarines, and matchless symbol of the royal authority. Interlopers were not a matter to be taken lightly.

Trespassing on the castle grounds amounted to, at best, defiance of the crown’s authority. In the wake of a defensive war, fought against unprecipitated aggression, such flagrant insolence--if proved to harbor ill intent--verged on grounds for charges of a capital offense.

It galled Haruka to even contemplate it, to imagine the bold spirit that had hazarded it. He thought grimly that the intruder had put himself beyond help with this outrage--on the very night of the prince’s funeral.

Only the heavy hand of justice could make any impression on a character steeped in lawlessness and hardened by a lifetime of self-serving cheats and lies.

A dog will return to its vomit. He could expect nothing better from it.

...

“Your permission to pursue and detain, with force if necessary?”

Tension bordering on anxiety colored the captain’s tone. He stood ramrod straight, hands clenched in fists at his side. A bead of sweat traced his forehead.

A breach of the castle walls represented a serious threat under any circumstances, but with the entire guard turned out in force for the funeral, close on the heels of military action, it constituted an embarrassing lapse in security.

Apart from the danger the intruder presented, the captain’s position was in jeopardy if he failed to apprehend the vagrant.

...

Haruka anticipated a thorough search, with both night and day watches, perhaps even the reserves, mobilized to comb the grounds with weapons at the ready. The archers would be of particular importance, for targeting the treeline, while the knights--

“That won’t be necessary,” Izana answers breezily. “As you were, captain.”

Shocked, the captain spoke out of turn. Surely he had misheard or somehow misunderstood. “S-sire?”

Izana raised his eyebrows. “You have something additional to report?”

The captain’s eyes swivel to Haruka, seeking assistance, but there is none to be found there. Haruka is rooted in place, rendered immobile.

If a statue could stiffen, he would have bested it.

The captain dropped his gaze. “No, your highness.” Who was he to question the prince? He bows low and withdraws.

...

Haruka could not have been more astonished than if he had reached out for a branch to steady himself and taken hold of a snake instead. The serpent had struck; the venom stung him.

He was reeling.

Birdsong filtered through the door as it opened to release the captain. The first rays of sunlight broke into the room, lighting the papers on Izana’s desk with an unnatural glow.

“A fine morning, isn’t it, my lord,” Izana remarks. “And our work has only just begun.”

#Akagami no Shirayukihime #PurePassion #Beauty and Her Beast #references major character death #thought this was Izana's chapter #realized it was Haruka's #Izana wants to be cagey a while longer #I blame him for the multiple rewrites #meanwhile #Haruka wins the prize #for the most tone-deaf character in this story #which is impressive #considering his competition

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sass-and-suspenders · 6 years ago

Text

Grumpy Cat

GIF from Noodlebugg

Prompt: “I’m bulletproof…but please, don’t shoot me.” (#21 for @hux-me-up)

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

Words: 1,715

If there was a boyfriend of the year award, Rafael would definitely be a contender. Tonight, in fact, would have put him in the lead.

To be fair, you had warned him. You had warned him that your best friend from university was coming to the city and insisted on a girls’ night out. You had warned him that her exact wording had been ‘a night to relive our college days even though our livers may not survive’. You had even warned him about the different drunk versions of yourself, stressing that it would be best for everyone if Seven-drink You did not make an appearance due to her inflated, but highly unfounded, opinion of her karaoke ability.

He should have known that you weren’t kidding when you stocked the fridge with coconut water, and placed Advil and a takeout menu from the greasy spoon around the corner on your bedside table.

It, therefore, shouldn’t have surprised him to hear your slurred voice on the other end of the phone in the early hours of the morning insisting that he come meet you and your friend at the current stop of your Manhattan bar hopping tour. Judging by the sound of someone’s tone-deaf performance of Don’t Stop Believing in the background, he was certain that Seven-drink You would soon be making an appearance.

After an exasperating few minutes consisting of Rafael trying to get the name of the bar from you (“Rafi, it has a neon sign and I think Journey are here and it has popcorn and it’s in Manhattan”) and then successfully instructing drunk you on how to send him your location with your phone, he was on his way.

Rafael arrived at the karaoke bar halfway through your off-key, but extremely enthusiastic, rendition of Titanium by David Guetta. He watched with amusement, smiling at your ridiculous dance moves. The second you noticed him, you beamed at him and stopped singing to excitedly announce to everyone in the bar that he was your boyfriend.

After boisterous drunken applause, including an impressive whistle from Rafael, you made your way off of the small stage and over to the table where Rafael and your friend were sitting.

“Rafi!” You put your arms around his neck.

“Finally! Now we can have some fun!” Your friend shouted to be heard over a group of Wall Street workers butchering I Want It That Way. “Before, it was all, ‘I miss Rafi’ and ‘I wish Rafi was here’!”

You nodded, letting go of Rafael’s neck to sit on the stool next to him. You must have misestimated where the seat was because, while the stool was nowhere in sight, the floor was definitely getting closer. Clearly, Seven-drink You had been replaced with Eight-drink You (aka the one who was as graceful as Bambi walking on ice).

Rafael’s strong arms reached out and grabbed you before you hit the floor.

“Are you okay, cariño?” Rafael questioned as he helped you onto the stool. He continued to keep an arm around your waist as a precaution.

“I’m fine, Rafi! You want to know why?” You squished Rafael’s cheeks with your hands and leaned towards him so that your foreheads were almost touching. You looked as if you were about to tell him one of your deepest secrets.

“I’m bulletproof,” You sang at full volume. You paused, still holding Rafael’s cheeks, before quietly adding, “...But please, don’t shoot me.”

“We’ll see how bulletproof you feel tomorrow, cariño. It’s time to get you both home.”

“We don’t want to go! We want to do shots!” Your friend protested.

“Yeah! Shots!” You echoed.

“We didn’t even have a lot to drink,” Your friend added.

“I find that hard to believe,” Rafael smirked.

“It’s true, Rafi! We’ve only had…” You trailed off, stumped. You began silently counting the number of drinks on your fingers with a perplexed expression on your face. You quickly ran out of fingers to count on and grabbed one of Rafael’s hands to continue your calculations.

“More than two!” You confidently announced.

“Right. I think you’ve both had enough.”

You and your friend continued to protest until Rafael held up a hand.

“One more round of shots and then we go home.”

“Five more rounds,” You countered.

“One.” Rafael repeated.

“Four.”

“One.”

“Three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“One.”

Rafael laughed. “Okay, one. You drive a hard bargain, cariño.”

“It’s because I’m dating the best lawyer in New York,” You grinned. You went to kiss his cheek, but missed and kissed the top of his ear instead.

“Maybe your hotshot boyfriend can pay for the next round, then?” Your friend cheerfully suggested from across the table.

“Fine, but remember: one shot each and then home.”

Rafael retrieved a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to your friend. However, instead of grabbing the crisp twenty, your friend quickly snatched his whole wallet, leaving a stunned Rafael with the twenty dollars in his still outstretched hand.

“Shots for everyone on Raf!” She declared, walking over to the bar and holding Rafael’s wallet aloft.

Rafael’s protests were barely perceptible over the commotion of everyone in the bar cheering.

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled into Rafael’s shoulder. “She used to do that in university. Her nickname was Swiper and we’d always yell ‘Swiper, no swiping!’ whenever she did that to some guy.”

“It’s fine,” Rafael pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should have specified that one shot each applied only to you and her.”

“I’ll pay you back for the drinks,” You promised, leaning into Rafael and putting your arm around his waist.

“Thank you, but don’t worry about it, cariño.” He kissed the top of your head.

Your friend arrived back at the table carrying three shots, presumably hoping that Rafael would be more forgiving once he had some alcohol in his system. She smiled sweetly as she handed Rafael his wallet.

“You’re right!” She turned to you. “Raf does look like Grumpy Cat when he’s upset!”

You nodded sagely as Rafael rolled his eyes.

One round of shots, a lengthy argument about how dogs would wear pants, more protests about leaving from your friend, pats on the back and high-fives for Rafael from the whole bar, and several close calls with getting drenched with alcohol and various bodily fluids later, Rafael had successfully herded you and your friend into a taxi. He was squished between the two of you, but still considered it a victory. You two could drop your friend off at her hotel and make it back to your shared apartment in less than an hour if there were no issues.

Rafael turned to your friend. “What hotel are you staying at?”

Your friend scrunched up her face in concentration.

“The one from Home Alone 2.”

Rafael looked at you for clarification, but you were nuzzled against his shoulder snoring lightly. It was Nine-drink You (aka the sleepy one)’s time to shine.

“Or maybe it’s the one in The Godfather…”

Rafael and the taxi driver shared a look.

“The Godfather Part Three,” Your friend added as if that would clear up any confusion.

“You can stay at our place tonight,” Rafael sighed, giving the driver the address.

“Yay! Sleepover!” Your friend squealed with delight.

The ride continued with your friend barely pausing for breath as she listed all of the things she wanted to do at your apartment while Rafael rubbed his temples. Clearly, using an indoor voice was not something at which inebriated people excelled. Rafael’s poor ears received a blissful nanosecond of relief when the list suddenly halted.

“Stop!” Your friend ordered the taxi driver. “Stop! We passed a pizza place!”

The taxi driver looked in the rear view mirror for confirmation from Rafael. Rafael sighed, nodded to the driver, and handed your friend some cash keeping a firm grasp on his wallet this time. You were still asleep, nestled under Rafael’s arm, but he thought he heard you murmur the word ‘pizza’.

Your friend emerged from the restaurant ten minutes later with the largest pizza box Rafael had ever seen. As she was getting into the cab, she accidentally jabbed Rafael in the head with one of its corners. She cheerfully offered a slice to everyone in the car, oblivious to Rafael’s glare. His only solace was the fact that your friend was too busy eating to prattle on about her list of sleepover activities at an ear-splitting volume.

Contrary to what Rafael thought, the night’s earlier events did not prepare him for the level of patience, strength, and bribery he would need to get you and your friend out of the cab and into your apartment. Even the taxi driver had wished him luck before pulling away from the curb.

The journey up to the apartment began with the disapproving glare of the night doorman as your friend vomited into a potted plant in your apartment building’s lobby and ended with Rafael trying to unlock the apartment door while you were clinging to him like a koala and your friend was attempting to feed him a slice of pizza.

The sense of relief Rafael felt as he crossed the threshold of the apartment was akin to how mountain climbers feel when they finally reach the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro. He told your friend to make herself comfortable as he took you to the bedroom and tucked you into bed.

When Rafael returned to the living room a few minutes later, he found your friend passed out on the couch, clutching the empty pizza box to her chest and loudly snoring. He placed a blanket over her before putting a trashcan beside the couch and a can of coconut water on the coffee table.

Quietly making his way back into the bedroom, he placed a can of coconut water on your nightstand as well before getting ready for bed.

“Thanks for taking care of us tonight, Rafi,” You sleepily mumbled as you felt him climb into bed beside you. “You’re the best.”

“Anytime, cariño. Te amo.”

“I love you, too, Rafi, even though you look like Grumpy Cat sometimes.”

“I do not loo-“ Rafael began to object, but you pressed your fingers to his lips.

“You do,” You replied, clumsily patting his cheek. “But you’re my Grumpy cat.”

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #Law & Order SVU #svu #prompt #barba x reader #rafael barba x you #barba x you

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hardyimagines · 7 years ago

Text

The Decision — Part 3

—————————————————————

Can I ask for a request? Alfie had to give up the reader because hes facing a powerful and dangerous enemy but he doesnt tell the reader. She ends up dating tommy (who doesn't know about her past with alfie) and on their wedding day Alfie shows up. Idk what happens next lol but I just would love to read about tension and emotions and alfie just like being vulnerable. Thank you 💜💜💜

Omg so your new Alfie fic is amazing! I've never requested anything before or made a suggestion but I wanted to suggest that maybe (if you want), can you include a part where the main OC does end up getting hurt and she's possibly pregnant (maybe loses it) with Alfies child and he doesnt know but then he finds out?! Whether she gets hurt bc of Tommy or Alfie it's up to you but I'd like to read that

Requested by: @fuckitsharam & @stylingco

Word count: 5.7k ||| Status: completed

———————————————————

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

How did you get here? Staring at your reflection in the mirror, your red eyes studied your dress. The white material hung low on your shoulders, hugging your form snugly as it ran over your curves and down to the floor. It had a lengthy, lacy, floral printed train. This was your wedding day. The block in your throat was one of confusion. There was a large amount of hatred for yourself in your gut and you weren’t sure what to do about it. Today was meant to be the happiest day of your life, the day you agreed to love a man for eternity in return for his love as well. The man you wanted was not here though. Alfie Solomons was no doubt sitting in the office of his bakery, lost in mounds of paperwork, oblivious to just where you were and what was about to happen. Thomas Shelby. He was standing at the end of the isle, tuxedo nicely suiting those sky-colored eyes of his. You didn’t mind marrying Tommy. He treated you well enough. He’d only been rough with you once and it was one drunken mess. You shut your eyes, instantly reminded of the night a few days ago.

The engagement ring was swallowing your ring finger whole, a promise that you would be Thomas Shelby’s forever. He’d been downstairs, drinking himself into madness and you’d hoped he’d stay down there all night. Your mind was at ease until you heard him climbing, well more or less stumbling, up the steps to your bedroom. He’d thrown the door open forcefully, causing the door to rattle so hard, you thought the hinges might give out and break off. You’d turned to face him with a careful gaze, brows furrowed in confusion as he set his bottle of gin down roughly on the vanity near the door. “Jesus Christ, Tommy, what the hell’s wrong with you?” You hissed, hand covering your heavily beating heart. He’d had a rough day at work, entirely too stressful for him to apparently cope while sober. He hadn’t given you much of an answer. His thick fingers were rough, gripping at your arms as he pulled your body toward his. You tried to keep up with the frantic kisses he was giving you, but it was entirely too difficult to keep up with the pace. “Tommy.. Tommy, hang on.” You moved your small hands to his shoulders to settle him like you did with Alfie, but he took that as a sign of rejection. He had your small body pressed roughly against the wall in seconds, chest pressing against yours, restricting you from moving. “Thomas, my belly-“ you pushed at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh. Thomas Shelby’s eyes were glazed over with a faraway look and he was seething. He spit words of venom at you, warning you not to refuse him, because he was tense and needed some sort of relief but when you’d cried out because he was pressing himself too hard against you, he’d jerked back in fear. Your hands fell to your stomach instinctively, cradling your child as best as you could as you slid down the wall to rest in a heap on the floor. Tommy’s eyes were bright and apologetic. He knelt down to tell you he wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but you’d shoved him away and told him to get the hell out.

Why were you so forgiving?

It was only two days before you let the man back into your arms, allowing him to kiss and love on you. The question hung in the air of ‘would he act like this again’, but you were so young and so so naive. You’d forgiven him and you’d agreed to still marry him.

Your polished fingertips traced the veil that shielded your soft features. Your eyes were shimmering with the lightly coated, but visible makeup, pink lips turned down into a light frown, but you forced it upward. Tommy’s family and friends were shoved into the small building, every seat filled with a guest. You didn’t have any family that would attend. Your mother wasn’t one for weddings, she gave her congratulations from afar and your father was no longer living, so you would be walking down the isle accompanied by Arthur. Your small hands lifted to cup your face as you let out a long sigh of disappointment. When would things go back to normal? You wondered. Normal was with Alfie. Things would no doubt never be normal again— not unless he was the bloke waiting at the end of the isle for you. God you missed Alfie.

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Everyday was hectic those last few weeks, but one day in particular was unforgettable. You were curled up on the sofa in the living room. It was freezing cold outside and because the furnace in your house didn’t have a knob that worked, it was either scalding hot in the house or icy inside. You found yourself lounging around in Tommy’s shirts, completely unbuttoned as you sprawled out on the sofa. The hot heat that pumped from the vents in the house kept you from shivering from the wintry chill outside, but god you were unhappy inside and even more unhappy outside. The front door opened and Tommy came stumbling in, scarf wrapped around his neck and chin to shield some of his face from the cold. “It’s a fucking blizzard out there.” He muttered, breathing a sigh of relief at the cozy inside of your home. His blue eyes fell on you, allowing them to scan your breasts, along your ribs and down to your swollen belly. “It’s a fucking furnace in here.” You moaned, wiping some of the sweat from your forehead. Sitting up on the floral patterned fabric, you stood up, hand resting beneath your belly as you moved toward him. “Come here, I’ll warm you up.” Peeling the scarf away from his sharp jaw, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his rosy lips and then brushed your warm thumbs along his pink cheeks. “You were out for entirely too long, do you want to get sick, Mr. Shelby?” Thomas laid his hands on your hips. “There was a little problem at the bar, but it’s taken care of now.” He kissed the tip of your nose before lifting his scarf off and away from his neck. The man moved to the corner to hang up his black trench coat, navy-colored scarf and then slipped out of his shiny black shoes. He stuck his hand into his trouser pocket and dragged out the tin of cigarettes. Opening the top, he slid a stick out and placed it between his slightly chapped lips before moving to take a seat on the couch. “Right.” He sighed, immediately warmed up now. “You know.” You whispered, approaching him as he sat comfortably. “You might as well just strip.” You smiled lazily. “It feels better when you don’t have fabric clinging to you.” Moving across the carpet, you climbed on to his lap and moved your nimble fingers to the buttons on his white shirt. “What was happening at the bar?” You asked softly, pressing a lazy kiss to the man’s jaw.

The shirt you wore slid off of your shoulders and you didn’t bother pulling it back into its proper place. Your lips were trailing along the side of his neck, down to his collarbone before he spoke up, halting your movements. “Alfie Solomons.” He whispered. “An old mate of mine, he dropped by today. Came as a bit of a shock, I haven’t seen him in so long.” You stiffened in his lap. Straightening instantly, your eyes glazed over with confusion. Thomas knew Alfie? “Alfie Solomons?” You whispered quietly. “Yes, Alfie Solomons. I believe you know him— he’s father of your babe.” He ushered to your stomach. After a moment of his words setting in, you scrambled off of his lap, brows creasing in confusion. “Y-you know?” Thomas nodded lightly, features calm as he continued to smoke what was probably his hundredth cigarette that day. “I’m not stupid pet. I’ve got eyes and ears all around. I was sure to find out eventually.” Guilt strangled you. “When did you find out?” You asked, voice cracking lightly. You moved your small hand to your throat, swallowing harshly. “Don’t get all stressed, that’s not good for you or the child. I’m not upset.” He told you quietly before standing. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, ocean eyes fixated on your face. “I found out the day you went to Camden Town to see your mother. Polly told me. Did you see Alfie that day?” He pulled the cigarette away from his lips so that his words weren’t mumbled.

You felt as if you might vomit. You should’ve told the man sooner. Pushing your hair out of your eyes, you inhaled shakily. “I just went by to tell him that I was pregnant.” “And things escalated?” He asked, flicking some of the ashes into the tray on the table before he licked his lips and placed the colored end back between his lips to take another drag. “There’s no sense in lying. I’m sure something happened between you and Alfie.” You swallowed quietly before crossing your arms, effectively shutting the shirt you wore. “Yes.” You told him truthfully. “You don’t need to go into detail.” He told you softly before lowering himself down on a chair. His knees spread and he ushered you toward him. “You know I love you, mh?” You stared down at the shimmering orbs before you and nodded softly. “He has no clue that I’m the one you’re seeing, does he?” You shook your head side to side. “I didn’t think it would matter, I didn’t know you knew each other.” Thomas sighed softly before slowly guiding you down and on to his clothed lap. “It takes a while to let someone go. I know that better than anybody. I don’t blame you for.. whatever it is you did with Alfie, but I want to know if it’s him you still want.” Your eyes latched on to the man’s. It was Alfie. It would ALWAYS be Alfie. But there was no future with him. He wanted you, but wouldn’t allow himself to have you. “No, it’s you that I want. Alfie.. he doesn’t want things to move forward. He’s told me plenty of times now that things just won’t work.” Tommy brushed his thumb along your hip slowly, fingers pressing gently into your lower back. “If he loved you, he’d made it work.” You nodded your head slowly before biting on your lip. “That’s why I’m marrying you and not him.” Your lips locked with his in a soft kiss before you shrunk back slightly to eye his charming smile. Things would work out between you and Tommy. He loved you and you loved him, but you couldn’t believe you were marrying one of Alfie’s friends.

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You made your way out of the dressing room and into the main hall. The wide, white double doors were closed. On the other side of them, the crowd was waiting. Every single person in the room would stare at you in awe, enamored by your beauty. You leaned over to adjust the straps of your heels before glancing around. “Arthur?” You hissed softly in question, looking around for the man. You didn’t want to be too loud though and catch the attention of everyone inside the chapel. “Arthur?” You called out again, a little louder this time. The man poked his head around the corner, guiltily rubbing at his nose, snorting twice. “Yeah, right, sorry, I’m here.” His dress shoes tapped softly against the tiled floor, arm outstretching so that he could offer it to you. “You look beautiful.” He told you softly, smiling down at you kindly. The entire Shelby family approved of you, which was very nice to know, but of all of them, aside from Tommy, you felt closest to Arthur.

The music sounded loudly, signaling for everyone to stand. The double doors opened wide and Arthur began to lead you toward your fiancé. Your fingers gripped tightly on to your soon-to-be brother in law, shimmering orbs glistening as they stayed stuck to Tommy, not bothering to look around the room. Your heels clicked softly against the floor, but the noise was drowned out by the booming music from the piano. Arthur halted at the front before taking his spot as his best man beside his brother. You took Tommy’s hand and gave him a light smile. He exchanged one of his own before helping you up the small steps so you could come to a stop beside him. He was infatuated with you, blue eyes absolutely stuck on your small form as the ceremony began. “We are gathered here today to join this man,” He ushered to Thomas. “and this woman,” He ushered to you. “In holy matrimony. Before we begin, I would like to ask if anybody here would like to object? You may speak now or forever hold your pea—“ The crowd all seemed distraught when someone instantly spoke up. The crowd turned toward the back of the room where the gruff voice had come from, effectively cutting the man off at the front of the altar. You froze, shimmering eyes moving between Tommy’s.

Alfie was sitting at the back beside a pillar. His beard was trimmed and he wore no hat. He was clad in some black slacks, a white shirt, and a black vest. Do to the heat in the room, he’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and was currently clenching his fists. When he got the invite, it only specified the name of the groom, not the bride. Alfie felt the most indescribable pang in his chest when he saw you there, shining brighter than every star in the galaxy. When his awe and shock had subsided, he stood instantly. You were his and even if he couldn’t be with you, he wouldn’t stand by and let you marry another man, especially not Tommy fucking Shelby. “Yeah, I have to object here, right, yeah, that girl up there, she’s mine.” Alfie stood tall, visible throughout the entire room because of his height. You slowly turned your head toward the back of the room, lifting your veil so you could see better. There he was, clear as day. Alfie fucking Solomons. Tommy turned toward the man as well, squinting. “Alfie, I sent you an invitation to the wedding as a peaceful arrangement, not for you to disrupt.” You sent a look of horror to Tommy. “You invited him?” Pushing the veil out of your face again when it tried to fall, you stared at the man in shock. “You invited him? Why would you do that?” Staring at Tommy in complete disbelief, your mouth fell open wider, trying to absorb the information. He knew of your feelings for Alfie and he purposefully brought the man here? You, teary eyed and beyond confused, spun around on your heel and took off down the length of the long isle. Your eyes caught Alfie’s briefly before you shoved the doors open angrily and stormed out of the chapel. As you expected, the bearded man was quick to rush after you and Tommy was quick to rush after him. “Alfie, let her be!” You heard Thomas yell. “I can’t do that, mate, right, because you didn’t tell me that she was the one you was fucking marrying, did you? Now she’s in fucking tears- and thats your fucking fault!” Alfie turned angrily on his heel.

The men were face-to-face. Alfie was furious, eyes raging and bright. “I told you about her. I fucking did, right, yeah, and you, you fucking talked to me about her, and were knowingly with her? It’s a noble fucking thing to do, yeah, to tell a man when you’re messing around with his girl, innit?” You turned when you heard the two shouting at one another. Wiping away a stray tear that managed to escape, you yanked off your veil and threw it down in the street. “She’s not your girl though, is she Alfie, because you left her. It’s not my fault we met and fell in love.” Thomas was a lot more calm than Alfie and it was obvious. The vein in Alfie’s temple looked as if it were about to explode. “Alfie.” You whispered softly, attempting to grasp his attention. He turned, eyes ablaze, but when they settled on you, clad in your beautiful white gown with your swollen belly, they softened. “Pet..” You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t fucking mean to make a scene, right, I just couldn’t watch you go through with that. You’re meant to be with me.” You stood in front of the men, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re both unbelievable.” You moved your small hands to your head. “Alfie, I’ve tried. I’ve been so patient with you, I tried- I told you I’d be with you, but you pushed me away, several times.” Alfie straightened, letting out an incoherent string of words. “I know, I messed up, pet, right, I do fucking know that, but I want to be with you.” Your eyes moved between his before you slowly looked to the floor. “Wanting to be with me and actually being with me are two different things, Alfie.” The man rubbed down his beard, eyes flickering around the empty roads before he let out a loud groan of frustration. Stepping toward your much smaller form, his large hand lifted to the back of your neck and he guided you toward him. Your belly pressed lightly against him and everything around you fell on deaf ears. Alfie pressed his lips against yours tenderly, fingers weaving in the back of your tamed curls. You should’ve pulled away. This wasn’t fair for Tommy to see, but you couldn’t help but kiss him back. Your small fingers curled in the front of his shirt, holding him against you securely. Goosebumps rose on your skin as, for the first time, Alfie laid his hand against your stomach. The little boy inside kicked harshly at the pressure on his home, but Alfie’s hand remained in place, thumb running along the round ball. You were going in to deepen the kiss when the doors to the church opened with a bang. Parting from Alfie with a shaky breath, your hand remained curled in his white shirt, watery eyes falling to the floor before you embraced him as tightly as possible. It was quite difficult with your belly in the way, but the two of you managed.

Backing up when Tommy cleared his throat, he stood in front of the two of you, hands stuck deep in his trouser pockets. You smoothed your hair out of your face and tucked it away behind your ear as the wind blew around the three of you and the rest of the Shelby family that joined in. This was none of their business, you thought, but apparently Tommy’s business was theirs too. Tommy crossed his arms, eyeing you expectantly, as if you were the one with explaining to do. “How could you invite Alfie after I told you specifically how strong my feelings for him were? I told you I was working to get over him and that I was making progress, so why would you take it upon yourself to send him an invitation!” He could feel the heat from your rage radiating off of your form. He didn’t flinch beneath your angry words, he merely stood there, unfazed by your shouting. “You cheated.” He pointed out. You were taken aback by his simple words. Biting on your cheek, your small hands curled into fists. “And you nearly hurt my baby, you drunk bastard.” Shoving past the men, you made your way back toward the chapel so you could put on your original clothes. Yanking the ring off of your finger, you threw it to the ground. You were not marrying Thomas. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

Alfie spun on his heel and gripped the front of Tommy’s shirt, catching the bloke off guard. Thomas was watching you storm off one moment and the next, he was being spat on by the angry Jewish gangster. Yanking him forward, he angrily glared down at him. “You.” He hissed in disbelief. “You knew her name. You knew her face, every little detail about her. Did you knowingly go after her?” Alfie whispered. You paused on the steps, finding his soft voice much scarier than his loud one. Eyeing the man who towered over Tommy, you slowly curled your hands in your dress, looking between all the Shelby’s. They could easily pounce on Alfie if things got bad. Thomas shook his head coolly. “She was involved with me, Alfie, before I even knew she had dated you. I really do love her.” Alfie shoved the man back. “That’s a bit hard to fucking believe, innit, when you’ve brought myself and her to the same fucking place. What kind of reunion did you expect, my dear boy?” Alfie licked his lips before taking a step back. His cane dug into the pavement sharply and you could see his grip tightening on the handle. “Alfie-“ Pushing your way through the large crowd, your small hand wrapped around his arm. “Don’t.” Your hand slid down the length of his arm to gently wrap around his much bigger one. Easing his grip instantly so he was simply holding the cane now, you looked at Tommy and then up to Alfie. You weren’t sure which of them had hurt you more? Alfie had done it with the intention of keeping you away so that he could protect you. Tommy, you still weren’t sure why he’d invited Alfie, but he had, and that was like a stab to the chest. It was as if your feelings didn’t even matter to him.

Michael stepped forward, ensuring that his slicked hair was firmly kept in place, he squinted to Alfie. “Don’t ruin this wedding. Which fucking side are you on, Alfie?” Your eyes shot to the boy. Was that a serious question? Was he referring to you and Tommy as sides? Or was he referring to the friendship Alfie and Thomas shared. “I don’t give a fuck right now, kid!” Although you’d relaxed the muscles in his arm, the anger was still more than evident in his sharp tone. “The wedding is already ruined.” You explained. “Tommy did that himself.” You told the entirety of the Shelby family before pulling on Alfie discreetly, wanting desperately to just get out of here, but the large man didn’t budge. He merely shot you a pleading look. He wanted to let his anger out. There was more than one way for him to do that though and you were more than willing to help him out, you just needed to get away from here. You pulled on him again and Alfie spun around to face you, towering over you like a dark cloud over a city. Lifting your hand to his cheek, you leaned up on your toes, lips almost close enough to meet his, if he would’ve just dipped his head a little more. “You and I need to have a serious, serious talk, Mr. Solomons.” You told him softly, lowering yourself back down to flat feet when he tried to kiss you. Looping your fingers through his, you pulled on him for what felt like the hundredth time, but when he finally obliged, he didn’t walk away silent. As he began to back up, he pointed his cane at Tommy. “This isn’t over, mate, right. I don’t appreciate you fucking around on my girl.” He halted again and you moaned in frustration. “Matter of fact, yeah, I should jam this fucking cane right between those pretty little blue fucking eyes of yours, right, for laying a fucking hand on her.” You closed your eyes and turned on your heel, deciding you’d just wait. “It was a misunderstanding, Alfie. I’d had too much to drink.” Alfie arched a brow at Tommy’s poor excuse. “Right, well, lay off it then, yeah, women don’t like a bloke who’ll fucking hit em.” The streets were silent now as everyone soaked in the current situation. You leaned over and tore the end of the wedding dress to prevent the overly long material from dragging along the pavement. Throwing the fabric toward Tommy, you finally pulled on Alfie, managing to get him only a few steps away before he nodded once. It was as if he had been pondering something the entire time and had finally decided. He broke away from you again.

“Alfie- Alfie, what are you doing?” You curled your hands tightly at your sides before looking up to the sky and begging for someone to have mercy on you and let this whole situation come to an end. The man moved away from your side and charged toward Thomas. You moved your hands to your lips, directing your gaze back to the pair of men. Oh, god. John and Arthur stepped forward as they watched Alfie approach, hands curled so tightly, his fingers were turning pale. Thomas halted his brother’s, knowing that this would get really bad, really quickly if things escalated. He could take a punch. So he did. Alfie swung his arm hard enough to break Tommy’s fucking jaw. A sickening crack filled the street followed by a loud shout of pain from Tommy. He was hunched over, cradling his nose and the side of his face. Tommy halted his brother’s again as they both went to move forward again. You, not that you could take on four Shelby’s, defensively, moved in front of your gangster. Your back pressed to his chest, arms out to your sides to cease any fighting. “That’s enough-“ You hissed, nudging Alfie gently with your bum so he would back up. You should’ve known the cheeky man wouldn’t. His hands found your hips and you set him a wide-eyed warning look over your shoulder. “We won’t be back to Birmingham.” You whispered to Alfie and then to the Shelby’s. “So just carry on with your fucking lives and don’t-“ you pointed specifically at Tommy. “bother trying to fix things. I don’t want to see you again.” A part of you was hugely relieved that you didn’t have to spend forever with a man that wasn’t Alfie. This time, you turned on your heel and strode away from the crowd. Whether or not Alfie came along was his decision.

The cold air suddenly became painfully obvious. The adrenaline was no longer coursing through your veins, which had been effectively heating you up. You walked along the cobbled road, heels clacking against the icy pavement. How had you managed to walk away without grabbing your coat! You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear Alfie practically racing along behind you, cane tapping against the ground audibly with his feet. “Pet!” He shouted and you came to a halt. “Fuckin hell, I can’t run after you, right, my leg’s starting to hurt.” You turned around to watch a limping Alfie, hurrying toward you as quickly as he was able. Your heart lurched forward. “Stop, Alfie.” He did. There was about 10 feet between the two of you. “I don’t want you to come any closer to me unless you’re going to let me have what I want.” Your arms folded stubbornly across your chest, curious eyes moving between his even more curious ones. “And what the fuck would that be, pet?” You closed your eyes, a shiver racing up your spine. “You. Alfie, I want you.” You could see the man visibly relax when you opened your eyes to eye his reflection. The tension in his shoulders seemed to vanish and he looked a lot calmer. “Fuck Sabini.” You whispered. “Fuck everyone and everything that wants to try and keep us apart. It’s pointless. I want to be with you and you only.” He could hear the crack in your voice and he knew you were about to start crying. Crossing the distance between the pair of you, Alfie hauled off his large coat and wrapped it around your small form. “Alright, yeah, don’t cry, come here.” He pulled your small form against his broad chest and you soaked up every bit of warmth that his body gave off. “It’s gonna be me and you now.” He agreed. “And this little one.” He pressed his hand once more to your stomach, gently rubbing it. “We need to get somewhere warm, it’s fucking freezing out here, innit. We can fucking talk inside.”

You tilted your head back so you could gaze up at the man. “I love you, Alfie.” You sighed heavily, arms looping around his strong shoulders. “My house is right up the road.” You ushered and the man instantly moved in the direction you’d pointed toward. Your arms were still looped around his large form, even as he walked, easily avoiding trampling over you because of how wide he was walking. The journey to your house seemed quicker than it actually was because majority of the time you were giggling from the way he was half carrying you.

Your hand fisted tightly in the back of Alfie’s hair, pulling his lips instantly to yours, the second you were inside your home. Alfie moved his hands to his coat and dragged it off of your body. “You live in a fucking oven.” He pointed out, speaking against your lips, already sweating and he’d only been inside for a few moments. He drew back slightly so he could look around, but you were so deprived of him, you forcefully pulled his head so he would dip it and kiss you again. You felt him smile against your lips, large hands covering the space of your back as he held you against his chest, swaying slowly. “We’ve got all the fucking time in the world to kiss, pet.” You whimpered as his words vibrated against your mouth. “I know, I just.. I missed kissing you.” His smiled morphed into a more playful one as he straightened, once more depriving you of his lips. Your hands fell away from his neck to instead rest on his shoulders, squeezing them gently. “I want to go back to Camden Town, Alfie.” You told him as your fingertips traced the side of his neck. Alfie nodded slowly, studying your features. “Anything you want, pet.” He kissed your head softly. “Let’s pack your things, right, and then, yeah, we’ll fucking go. Get out of this shitty Birmingham.”

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A few days later

The men working in the distillery ceased their working to look toward you as you made your way down the corridor, trailing along behind Alfie. The man’s shoulders were hunched slightly, eyes darting around the room, silently urging the men to get back to work, but they were stuck staring at you and your swollen belly. You were a sight. A beautiful, glowing, absolutely breathtaking sight. You couldn’t wear your tight dresses this far along in the pregnancy, so you’d opted for something loose, but fitting. Your breasts had tripled in size and were pouring out of the top of the green slip you wore. The material came to a stop a little above your knee and Alfie only allowed you out of the house and to the bakery in such an, in his opinion, enticing outfit because you’d be in his office the entire time. You let out a heavy breath, cradling the underside of your belly as you eyed the long set of steps. “Alfie.. it’s too much for me.” You told him quietly, already gripping the stair rail. The man turned around to face you, brows lifted in question. He’d only made it up the steps halfway before climbing back down. “You go first, yeah, and I’ll be right behind you.” Nodding your head softly, you couldn’t help but smile when he placed his large hands on your curvy waist. He did most of the work, practically lifting you with each step that you took. Nevertheless, you gave a breathy moan of relief when you reached the top, shoulders slumping exhaustedly, even though Solomons put in way more effort than you did. “I need to lay down.” You told the man quietly.

He, still holding you securely to his chest, led you into his office and over to the sofa in the corner. “Go on, pet, lay down, I’ll be right here, yeah?” You nodded gently, lowering yourself down on the cushion. The silky material slid up your thighs, revealing more and more of your soft skin to his eyes, but he didn’t make any moves toward you. You were tired, always, and he didn’t want to drain you of what little energy you had left by ravaging you. Retreating over to his desk, Alfie pulled the chair out and lowered himself down on to it. Opening the drawer to his right, he ensured his revolver was tucked away inside before he shut it again. It was always better to be safe, rather than sorry. He lifted his spectacles to his face, looking at you over the rim of them before he got to work.

This would be an everyday thing. Until he could ensure your safety, you would come to work with him. You weren’t exactly complaining. This way, you got to look at him all day, unless he had to go out, then your days were spent with Ollie or someone else that he would send in. Laying on the sofa like a woman in a painting, Alfie often had a difficult time keeping his eyes off of you. Most days, he’d crack the window open, allowing the chilly air outside to fill the room because you were always so hot. This meant he had to wear his coat when he worked, but as long as you were happy, he was happy. You wondered silently how things would be when the baby came. You couldn’t accompany Alfie to work then. Not with a crying baby who needed constant attention? You eyed Alfie, studying him intently as he mumbled inaudibly beneath his breath, no doubt about work. He was going to make an amazing dad, you were sure of it.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

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Tagged: @thatsamegirl @peakyhoegh @ihclipse @callisen @hardygal69 @centerhabit @favouritereadings @goodiesintheclosetlove @buckypetal15

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Hello! I hope you guys enjoy this!! I think I’ll add one more part to it? I don’t want it to end here, I wanna write about Alfie as a dad!💛💛💛

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lachalaine · 6 years ago

Text

headcannon // apologies

Jackie - for all that she has a rather terrible temper and an infamous short fuse - takes apologizing to most people in stride. Especially when she knows it’s her fault, and she knows she’s being rude, give her a moment to herself, and the guilt - so swift in its inevitable arrival - will come to gradually rationalize all of that blustering anger right out of her system. She knows when she’s in the wrong, and she will admit to it, and though her apologies may not always come so readily - when they finally come, you can be certain that every single word uttered would be entirely and completely 100% genuine.

But then there are those moments where Jackie is --- well. Not so ready to apologize. Moments when she’s still mad. When she’s still angry. As stubborn as a raging bull, it can sometimes feel like pulling teeth just getting her ease off down from her high horse; the female sometimes going days, weeks, and months just consistently stewing in her anger, as the grudge that’s settled within her comes to be enough to fuel her unreasonable vexation for potentially a few too many years to come. This kind of anger usually results more with those she would reluctantly consider to be a friend, but a friend she’s not entirely sure if she should admit is actually her friend. The almost, almost ‘close’ friend, but the also ‘we don’t want to admit we actually like hanging around each other’ friend. The kind of friend she inadvertently trusts, but also the kind she refuses to admit to herself that she really cares about. The frenemy. The kind she’s not supposed to show weakness to. That one friend she bickers with on a usual basis because that’s what the friendship is entirely based on after all: The Bickering.

It’s the friend that wasn’t supposed to get under her skin, that wasn’t supposed to even be a friend - but now here they are - and she can’t get them out.

Now, when it comes to this particularly serious fight with this type of friend ( exhibit a: Edan Peccai ), one would notice she has a rather strange habit when it comes to going about and actually apologizing for it. Because she’s still mad, of course. But she knows she’s in the wrong, and she doesn’t want to admit it, but she can’t stand this consistent fighting and she needs, needs, needs something to give --- !!

( Because if it were anyone else, she would have cut them off by now. )

Reluctant as she is to be the first to break, it isn’t necessarily what you would consider an easy task for her to admit to her folly, to someone she would never want to admit to being wrong to. Her cheeks tend to puff up like a puffer fish, or perhaps a chipmunk with two many nuts in her mouth. This is because the words alone have difficulty slipping out of her mouth, so she has a small conniption just trying to make it work. And so she stutters, and so she shakes - flustered beyond belief as hands tremble fitfully at her sides, the act itself of what she was about to do seeming to wrench at her soul from the depths of her very being. And so she stalls and she stalls and she stalls and just inwardly screams – before finally, something clicks. And suddenly, everything that comes out of her mouth is everything she wasn’t supposed to say instead.

A lengthy diatribe, the longest monologue, the speech where anything and everything that’s so far pissed her off about that one person just spews out of her like an endless deluge of word vomit. There is no filtering, no holding back. She will take each and every single little thing that’s ever so much as irritated her about them and lay it all out on a silver platter for them to hear, as everything that she’s been consciously meaning to keep to herself comes back reiterated in an absolute fury, until everything has been uttered out and mentioned in its entirety - until all that she is left with comes to be absolutely --- nothing.

There is a shit load of anger that can still be retained in such a small being, make no mistake of that.

But then – but then, after a long, long time of beating them down, of reiterating every reason that she might absolutely abhor them – she begins to finally, finally taper off. And then the note of frustration changes, as the female starts going on a tangent as to why she actually - really likes the person. From the habitual annoyances about them that have actually quite grown on her, to the very specific bits and pieces of their personality that she so far can’t ever seem to truly despise.

The details to who they are, and who she is when she’s with them - that only ever seem to actually make her almost -- happy.

And it’s in the ebbing gentleness that arises in her voice, the reassuring warmth that laces her tone – that the truth of it all comes out. The truth of which is that – she does miss them. Very much so. And she’s sorry, truly. Because she knows she fucked up, and she understands why they wouldn’t want to be around her anymore, and she should have done better.

But if there was any chance at all that they could -- forgive her. Or maybe not forgive, necessarily but just - let her somehow make up for being an absolute brat – then she would like to take it. If they would afford her that much of a means to figure out how to make things -- better.

Because her pride can be a terrible, terrible thing. But she cares enough about the person before her to throw that piece away of her when need be.

And that my friends – is the first, real sign of vulnerability you will ever get from her. If you’ve reached that stage, then you can pretty much guarantee that you mean a lot to her, and she cares very deeply about you and your friendship.

And I don’t that’s something she can say she feels for a lot of people.

#&& chatelaine on the decks (jackie headcannon)#/ there's something to be said #/ when you can write a detailed headcannon like this in the span of an hour #/ but also spent three hours writing a two paragraph response to an ask that is nowhere near finished #/ writing is weird i swear to god.#/ anyway this is small and important to me #/ because i was thinking of jackie spazzing out and having a fit at having to apologize #/ and honestly the cheeks puffed up is such a thing for her #/ she tries. she really does.#/ and now i go to sleep nighty night !!#/ <3

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maevefiction · 6 years ago

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 15

I was seated at the end of a chair grouping outside gate four in terminal two of the airport, luggage screened and checked. The six AM flight had departed without me, and the one PM flight would be leaving from here so it had seemed as good a place as any to wait. It was ten-thirty AM and I was on my fourth Starbucks Caffe Vanilla Frappuccino. I never drank coffee because it made me a jittery mess, but since I was already a jittery mess I figured why the fuck not. At least I’d be a conscious jittery mess this way.

The chairs were brutally uncomfortable, and the fluorescent lighting flickered from time to time, or it appeared to. It could have been from sleep deprivation and anxiety, I supposed. But it didn’t seem to matter much. Nothing did. All I wanted to do was disappear into the void and not have to face any aspect of my reality. Too bad it was never that simple. Not for me, anyway.

I tried to take a nap when I learned there would be no seats available on the six AM flight, but every time I nodded off either Tom’s words or my mother’s face would pop uninvited into my head and jar me awake. Focusing enough to read online or off was impossible, and any song I played on my iPod upset me for some stupid reason. Walking around worked for a while, carryon in tow, moving from place to place, sucking down my Frappuccino and visiting the bathroom every half hour, until I noticed airport security watching me. That’s how I wound up here, sitting down, staring at the walls, reading the signs over and over again and not comprehending a single thing they said. The people walking by were like ghosts, each living a life completely outside of my realm. They smiled, they hugged, and they laughed while I sat waiting to board a jet that would take me somewhere I’d never wanted to be again, where I’d have to gaze upon the lifeless body of a woman I’d never wanted to see again.

And then there was…Tom. I was incredibly angry at myself for growing so attached so quickly, for letting him in. I knew better. But I did it anyway, because…there was that feeling. That this was the person. My person. It was all so fast, but it had felt right. And whether I liked it or not, I loved him. He deserved a chance to explain himself, certainly, but I wasn’t sure I was capable of giving it to him. Some of the things he’d said cut very deeply, and by my own admission forgiveness wasn’t a thing that came easily to me. Yes, he’d been drunk. But that’s the thing about words…once they’re said, you can never take them back. Your state of mind when you speak them is essentially irrelevant if they’re heard and they hurt.

Yet in spite of what had transpired, I missed him terribly already. I wanted him right next to me, warm, present, here. I felt…halved. Alone. And lonely. There had to be an underlying issue that caused him to behave in such a fashion, didn’t there? Or, perhaps the man I saw last night was the real Tom, and the one I’d spent the past two weeks with and thought I’d known was simply proof positive that he was just a better actor than anyone could have ever imagined.

More than anything else, I felt stupid. Stupid for thinking that love at first sight could actually happen, and even stupider for thinking it could happen to me. I was not meant for this. No matter how far I thought I’d come, I would never be more than this broken thing on the inside, a thing that couldn’t even earn the love of its own mother, no matter hard it tried.

My phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, instantly ejected from my introspection. I thumbed to unlock the screen. It was Tom. Heart pounding, disgusted with myself when I realized that I wanted nothing more than to pick it up, say hello and make everything better, I flung it down on the seat next to me as if I’d been burned.

Four minutes later, the voicemail alert chimed. Staring down at it, I began rubbing my temples and had a lengthy back and forth with myself as to whether or not I should listen to it.

“Eh, fuck it. Let’s see what he has to say. At this stage of the game, I don’t think there’s anything that could make me feel worse than I already do.”

I clicked, held the phone up to my ear and listened. His voice was several octaves higher than normal, his speech wavering between halting and rambling and filled with anxious panic, reminiscent of a child who’s just realized he’s lost and alone in a strange, unfamiliar place.

“Maude? I…it’s…I don’t know…I slept through my alarm and it’s after ten and we were supposed to be on a plane already but I woke up and you’re gone and all of your things are gone…” He choked back a sob. “And I don’t remember anything from last night after you called me…” Another sob. “I…Maude…what I said…I’m so sorry…I was just…I thought you…didn’t want to…be with me…” He was openly weeping now as he spoke, addressing himself more so than me. “I’m not…I…how did I even get back here? I don’t know…what happened? What did…did…I do? My god, what did I do that made you leave without me?” An agonized, muffled cry, as if from behind a hand-covered mouth. “Where are you, Maude? Why aren’t you here? Please call me. Please. Please.” Another cry, gasping this time, then silence.

My stomach heaved, and this time there was no holding back. I ran for the closest restroom but only made it as far as the garbage can around the corner. I vomited up all four Frappuccinos, then continued to retch long after there was nothing left to be brought forth. I leaned on the rim, face still hovering over the can, until I heard a voice behind me. It was airport security.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?”

I wiped my mouth with my forearm as I pushed myself into a standing position, shaking like a Chihuahua and wishing I could make myself invisible.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks. Sorry about that. Coffee and I don’t get along very well, apparently. Now I remember why I switched to tea.” I tried to smile, but it just wasn’t happening. He handed me some paper towels.

“Ma’am, if you need to use the restroom I’d be happy to keep an eye on your bag for you.”

I nodded and handed him my carryon but kept my messenger bag. “Thank you so much.”

My reflection in the mirror was gaunt, the dark circles under my eyes highlighted by yesterday’s makeup, which I had forgotten to remove. I looked like I’d been out all night partying, eyeliner smeared, mascara clumped and flaking. I rested my hands on the counter and leaned in closer to my reflection.

“Well, how do you feel, you fucking dumbass? What’s that? You feel….WORSE?” I barked out a laugh, then turned on the tap and rinsed my mouth out by cupping water in my hands, then ran my index finger over my teeth in a crude attempt at brushing. There was toothpaste in my carryon, but there was no way in hell I was going back out for it right now.

Next I washed my face as best I could with the paper ‘towels’ from the dispenser. There was nothing towel-like about them, and my eyes were red as fire after I scrubbed off the makeup, contacts all askew until I blinked repeatedly to get them back where they belonged. I wet two more towels with super cold water, then held them on my eyes for a few minutes. Most of the redness had faded, and I took out my braid and put my hair in a ponytail.

“Better, Maude. Hopefully the dude won’t want to haul you in because he suspects you’re a vagrant. Or a prostitute. Or a drug dealer. Or a terrorist. Or a vagrant, drug dealing, prostituting terrorist.”

He was guarding my bag, as promised, and handed me my phone as I approached him.

“Ma’am, you dropped this. It looks like it’s fine, though.”

I managed to fake a smile this time. “Thanks again. I really appreciate it. Crazy day, you know? I’m on standby for three flights trying to get to New Orleans for my mother’s funeral. Well, two, now. The first one didn’t work out. The next one leaves from this gate…it’s okay if I wait here until I find out if I’ll be on it, right?” I pulled up my confirmations on the phone, grabbed my ID out of my messenger bag and showed them to him.

He nodded. “Sure thing, ma’am. Take care.”

“Thanks.” I sank down in the chair, crushed under the weight of my emotions, feuding with the compulsion to not only call him, but to get in a cab and rush back to the hotel so I could comfort him and alleviate his pain in spite of that which he had caused me.

My phone rang again, and I decided that if it was Tom again I’d pick up. It wasn’t. The screen flashed at me…’Lestat calling’. It was Anne. Good. I needed a healthy dose of anger to get my sad-sack ass back on track. Because bitches get shit done. I hit the answer button.

“Maude, honey, how are you doing? I figured I’d call to check…”

“I’d be doing infinitely better if you hadn’t given the hospice my phone number, that’s for fucking sure.”

She clucked her tongue at me, which made me grip the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white. “Kiddo, there was no one else to handle all that needed to…”

“Oh, I’m aware of that NOW. Did you know she was divorced this entire time?”

She hesitated. “Maude, listen…”

“You did, you fucking DID. And you never bothered to tell me.”

A sigh escaped her. “You never wanted me to talk about her.”

“Oh, right…like that ever stopped you from going right ahead doing it anyway.”

“In hindsight, perhaps I should have mentioned it.”

“Ya think?” I inhaled deeply, aware that if I continued being so loud I’d be receiving another visit from airport security. “Are you going to tell me what happened between them or do I have to wait until I get there and be blindsided with it by a total stranger?”

“He left her. For an eighteen year old. Who was a senior in high school. They’ve since married and have three children.”

After letting it sink in for a few moments, I began chuckling softly, which quickly evolved into raucous laughter. Unable to regain my composure, I tried to speak through it. “Oh, Anne. You most certainly should have mentioned it. That’s…” I wiped a tear from my eye. “It’s…it’s…fucking hilarious.”

“Maude, please, she just passed away. And it hurt her terribly when it happened. How could you possibly think it’s amusing?”

My laughter ceased and was replaced with fury. “The same way you could have possibly thought I’d give even the remotest shit if she was alive or dead, Anne. That’s how. And because you, sanctimonious Christian Samaritan that you are, wanted to ensure that she was sent off to your fairytale afterlife properly I’m stuck being the stupid fuck who’s responsible for it all. You know the whole story, Anne. Every bit of it. You mean to tell me you can’t understand why I’d take pleasure in learning that karma finally caught up with her? Seriously? Well, at least now I get why you never told me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m kind of having a massively shitty day here and I need to go.”

As I hit the end call button, I realized my hands were shaking wildly and I felt lightheaded, and that I hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. I hefted my bags over my shoulder and looked at the airport dining map on my phone. Einstein Brothers Bagels sounded promising, and after waiting in line for a shockingly brief five minutes my food was ready. I sat at a table, sucking down a thirty-two ounce Coke while starring down my bacon, egg and cheddar sandwich. I wasn’t at all hungry, but passing out in the airport sounded like it might be a hassle so I forced myself to eat it, trying not to gag as I did so. It was almost eleven-thirty when I finally finished, and I walked back to my spot. My phone dinged. It was a text from Simon.

Are you okay? – S

I had no idea if he knew anything, and if he did, what it was. I hadn’t mentioned a thing to anyone other than Tom via email as to what was going on.

Why wouldn’t I be? – M

Tom called us. – S

Well, then you know that ‘are you okay’ is, like, a totally loaded question. – M

Are you still at the airport? – S

Yeah. First standby was a bust, should know about the second one any minute now. I may or may not have puked in a garbage can earlier and I think airport security may have flagged me as a vagrant, drug dealing, prostituting terrorist. – M

Good to see you still have your sense of humor. – S

Sarcasm is my secret coping mechanism. When the humor goes, you’ll know things are really in the shitter, my friend. How much did he tell you? – M

Too much, like he always does. I’m sorry about your mother. – S

Don’t be. I’m not. – M

Marry me, woman. – S

Seriously, though. How are you holding up? – S

I’m sort of…not? But I don’t want to talk about any of it, just so you know. I need to deal with dead mother first, then I can try to sort out the rest. – M

You know I hear that, sister. Mothers. Bring you screaming into the world, and then they do their best to make sure you keep screaming. And screaming. – S

*virtual high five* - M

If you need me, honey, any time, I’m here, K? – S

Thanks. Love you. – M

Love you too. – S

Shaking my head, I wondered how Luke was handling all this and remembered my assurance that no matter what happened between Tom and me personally, the work would continue as specified and in a professional manner. I frowned as I took my tablet out of my bag and powered it up, checking to see if Tom had done what I’d asked. Everything was posted exactly as I’d specified. The sight of his countenance made my stomach queasy again, and I leaned my head back to let it rest on the wall behind me as I stared at the ceiling and attempted to convince my breakfast to stay put. As soon as the feeling passed, I put my tablet away and texted Luke.

Everything’s still on track for me being in London on the 20th, and I’ll be working wherever I am between now and then. If you need something, have questions, whatever, let me know. – M

His response was immediate.

I don’t want you giving anything work related a moment of thought right now. Do what you need to do back home, and take your time doing it, all right? If there’s anything I can do to help in some way, let me know. – L

I sighed.

Thank you. Though I can’t help but work…I need the distraction. – M

I’m the same way. We’re here if you need us. – XO L & S

The PA system clicked on and I heard a woman’s voice say my name. “Maude Gallagher, please report to the check in desk. Maude Gallagher, please report to the check in desk. Thank you.”

Got called to check in…maybe this flight is a go. Thanks again, both of you. – XO M

As I made my way to the desk, the initial excitement at the prospect of getting the fuck out of San Diego faded and was replaced with panic as the grim reality of what was waiting for me in New Orleans began to settle in. There were three stations open, and I chose the one with two people in line ahead of me. When my turn came, I presented my ID to the clerk, a blonde woman in her late twenties, if I had to guess. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and her makeup was perfection…just enough color to make her features stand out, but barely noticeable. And a lip color shade that wasn’t more than a decade old, too. I had the sudden urge to begin reading Vogue and Glamour again, then snickered to myself when I realized I could look up anything and everything beauty related online but had never bothered to do so.

She smiled at me, teeth blindingly white. “May I help you?”

“I was notified via the PA system to report to the check in desk…Maude Gallagher? I’m on standby for two more flights today so I assume you have news for me?”

Her eyes roamed over my ID and her face flushed. “Ms. Gallagher. Right. Follow me, please.” She stepped out from behind the counter and over to her left, into a small alcove at the start of the hallway to the security offices. The first thing I noticed was my luggage piled up against the wall.

I gently grabbed her shoulder. “Wait, why is my…”

And then I noticed that there was someone standing next to my luggage. My brain froze, my heart stopped and my arm slipped from the clerk’s shoulder and fell back to my side. He was wearing his black sweatshirt, hood up, with jeans and those filthy white Vans. Sunglasses hid his eyes from me, and I was torn between wanting to embrace him or punch him in his pretty fucking face.

Seven steps closed the distance between us, and I reminded myself that we were in public and that it was Comic-Con weekend and he was very recognizable, so I’d best try to not make a scene.

I snarled, and my voice came forth in a hiss. “Why the fuck are you here? And what are you doing with my luggage?”

He removed the shades, and his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, tearing up as he tried to meet my gaze. “Maude…I…I know that I’m the last person you want to see right now…”

“Um, no, you aren’t the last. Second to last, probably. Either way, I sure as shit have zero desire to look at you, yet here you are.”

He swallowed and wiped away a tear that had carved out a path through the stubble on his cheek. “I’m so, so sorry. But I had to come. It couldn’t let you sit here waiting and waiting to go do what you have to do when I’ve found a way to get you where you need to be, on time.”

I rolled my eyes as I crossed my arms, subconsciously protecting myself. “Thomas, there are no flights out of here other than my two stand-bys, so unless you have a magic carpet or your own private jet…oh, fuck ME. A charter. Don’t tell me you chartered a fucking jet. Why didn’t I think of that? What a fucking moron I am…I could have been there already.” I put my hand on my forehead, looked down and gazed at a crack in the tile floor.

He reached out to touch my arm, and I yanked it away, glaring at him. His bottom lip quivered, and he inhaled sharply as he tried to rein in his emotions.

“Yes. I chartered a flight. It will depart from Landmark Aviation whenever you’re ready to leave. There’s a car waiting outside.”

As mortifying as it was, desperation easily won out over my anger, and I knew that even if I’d had to sell my soul, if I possessed such a thing, there was no way I was passing this up. The sooner I got to New Orleans, the sooner it would all be finished. Finally finished. I could close the chapter once and for all and move on, though I was now much less sure of what I’d be moving on to than I was twenty-four hours ago. I unstacked my luggage, situated the handles and prepared to head out. “Don’t think for one second that I’m letting you pay for this…I don’t need your fucking charity.”

“Maude, it’s already taken care of, and please, it’s not chari…”

“Fuck you. Email me a bill and I’ll send you a check. Where’s the car?” He tried to take the bags from me. “No. I can schlep around my own shit. I’m not fucking helpless. Speaking of, how did you get your hands on these, anyway? They told me they’d stay checked and go out on the direct flight at four PM and be waiting for me at Louis Armstrong even if I wasn’t on board.”

He put his hands in his pockets and began walking to the main doors, head down. “One of the clerks is a fan. She pulled some strings.”

I didn’t reply, instead dropping back so I could follow his lead. He held the door for me, which I permitted, and walked down to the waiting limousine. I shook my head as the driver leapt out of the car to open the door, then gathered my belongings and placed them in the trunk. As I buckled in, the door opposite me opened and Tom climbed in. My jaw clenched as I turned to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming with you.”

“To the airfield?”

“Yes. And then to New Orleans. Because regardless of anything that’s happened between us, you shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

My eyes narrowed. “I shouldn’t have to do this at all, and if Anne hadn’t given the hospice my number I wouldn’t be.”

He frowned and shook his head. “Why wouldn’t they already have your information? Did you not know she was ill?”

“Yes. I knew. Anne told me almost two weeks ago.”

His brow furrowed, and it was obvious to me where this was going to end up.

I sighed. “Yes, Tom. I knew she was dying. And I didn’t go see her. And guess what else? I still don’t want to fucking see her.”

His eyes widened, shocked at my statement and disgusted by my coldness. “But Maude, she’s your mother.”

I could feel my face contort into something ugly, something horrible, twisted with pain. “She may have given birth to me, but she was never my mother, and she’s already been dead to me for a very long time.”

He gasped softly, but said nothing. I stared straight ahead and remained that way for the eight minutes it took us to reach Landmark Aviation. The driver opened my door, then Tom’s, and another employee arrived with a cart for our luggage, which they whisked off to the waiting Learjet 35A. The office area was open plan, two floors with a modern design and floor to ceiling windows. I sat in the waiting area while Tom completed all the paperwork, joining him only when the clerk requested my presence so he could obtain all the required identification information. He walked us to the jet, where we were greeted by the pilot who advised it would take approximately four hours to reach New Orleans. I climbed the stairs into the cabin, which consisted of seven seats in dark brown leather. Two chairs faced each other, two were in the rear across from a bench seat, and another bench seat was up front beside the facing chairs. There was a refreshment area with a mini-fridge and microwave, as well as a bathroom. I walked all the way to the back and strapped myself into one of the bench seats, my messenger bag next to me to prevent Tom from sitting near me. I needn’t have worried, as he sat up front with his back towards me.

Our takeoff was perfection, and the pilot announced that we could unbuckle ourselves and move freely about the cabin shortly thereafter. I undid my seat belt but stayed where I was. Tom blew his nose, got up, walked back to where I was and knelt in front of me. He’d taken off his hoodie, his well-worn blue V-neck nearly see-through in the harsh interior lighting. It was obvious that he’d been crying, his eyes bloodshot and still damp.

“It was very, very wrong of me to pass judgement on you like that. Especially after…” He closed his eyes briefly. “It’s just…my mother and I are so close…but I should know better than to assume that everyone is so fortunate. If yours was ill enough to be in hospice and you didn’t want to see her then and don’t want to now, you must have good reason for feeling as you do.”

I turned away from him. He shifted so he was in my line of sight again.

“If you don’t want to be with me any longer after this…” He swallowed. “I…I’ll understand. I won’t want to accept it, but it’s my fault and I’ll do whatever you wish me to do because I love you. But please, let me help you through this. Don’t shut me out.”

I met his gaze, my heart full of ice and my head full of sorrow. “Oh, sure, right. Because letting you in has worked out so well for me.”

He broke down then, right in front of me, placing his hands over his face as he tried to stifle his sobs. He wept until he retched, then got up and went to the lavatory. I heard him vomit several times, and he finally emerged fifteen minutes later and returned to his chair at the front of the cabin. Great, puking all around today. This love stuff is the best.

As I stared at the back of his seat, it crossed my mind that he might be just as broken and lost as I was, and I needed him to know why I was. Right now, even if it was too late to make a difference. I rose and walked up front, then slowly lowered myself into the chair across from him and attempted to put it all into words.

I spoke softly, emotionless. “Tom, we fell into this so very fast, and neither of us reached the point of revealing all we’ve been through. We’re both intelligent enough to know that what happens in someone’s past affects them in the present, no matter how hard they try to deny or avoid it. If you really want to be with me through this, there are things you need to know in order to fully understand me, so you don’t think I’m a monster for not seeing my…mother…when she was dying in hospice, and to help you decide if you want to remain in this relationship.”

He looked at me, a faint smile on his lips at the mention of there still being a relationship to remain in.

“Don’t take that the wrong way…I should have phrased it differently.” His face fell. “I’m not certain where we stand, because I don’t know what I want to do about what occurred last night. But, from an emotional vantage point, I’m one hundred percent certain that I’m incapable of dealing with it at the moment. What I do know is I that can’t let you be a part of this if you’re still completely unaware of everything that…happened. For now, I just want to say my piece and for you to listen. Is that all right with you?”

He nodded.

I leaned back in the chair and began, hands shaking as I tried to keep my voice evenly modulated.

“My parents met in February of 1977, in a pub in Dalkey, Ireland, my father’s hometown. His name was Sean, and he was born in Dublin but grew up in Dalkey. His family wasn’t flat broke, but they were far from what you’d consider middle class and he was bartending at the pub to make ends meet. He was nineteen. My mother, Mary Clarke, was born and raised in Manchester, England. Her father was a prominent solicitor, her mother distantly related to the royal family. Or so she claimed. Either way, they were quite wealthy and had a summer cottage in Dalkey. She was eighteen years old, engaged to an Earl who was in his last year at Oxford University, and due to be married in May of that year. Her and her girlfriends decided to take their last holiday as singles over Valentine’s weekend, staying until the following Sunday. She was Protestant, my father was Catholic, and she felt inspired to sow her wild oats with what she considered to be a ‘bad boy’. He fell madly in love with her after their week together, and she left him high and dry and went back to Manchester. Two months later, she discovered she was pregnant, which was problematic as she had yet to sleep with her fiancé. The engagement was called off, her family publicly disgraced, and her father sent her packing to Dalkey and forced her to marry my father lest she be completely disinherited. They married and immigrated to the states, my maternal grandfather having used his connections to find him a position with Exxon, working on an oil rig off the coast of New Orleans.”

I paused, and Tom reached over to the mini-fridge and handed me a bottle of water, which I cracked open and drank greedily.

“Thanks. She hated New Orleans, but her narcissistic personality disorder made her want to not only fit in, but stand out. Her father paid for the trip over and got them set up in a two bedroom apartment, but after that he cut her off completely. Even more than New Orleans itself, she hated being ‘poor’ in New Orleans. She often spent all the funds designated for bills on clothes, which meant my father was never around, because in addition to his week-long shifts he worked overtime on the weekends to make up for her expenditures. She desperately wanted to live in the Garden District, but settled for being a big fish in a little pond, working her magic to impress the women who resided near our apartment building, even adopting a southern accent so she could pretend to be native to the area. When I came early on Halloween, she was thrilled that she’d had a little girl and began habitually dressing me up and showing me off to all her new friends, but that didn’t last long. One of the first things I remember is her combing my hair roughly as she tried using some smelly product to straighten it, telling me she wished it was red like my father’s and straight like hers, instead of this dingy brown bird’s nest of unattractive curls. I couldn’t have been more than three.”

I swallowed, hard. “I wasn’t what she expected, I guess. Puberty began early for me, when I was around eight or so, and I put on some weight, as most girls do. She made fun of me in front of anyone willing to listen, called me fat, forced me to diet and exercise, and told me that she was disappointed I’d turned out to be so ugly, that I embarrassed her and made her look like a terrible mother.”

He cringed, and I saw his hand reach for me, then retract.

“By that time, my father had moved up the ladder at Exxon and was on his way to being an executive, so he was home with us most evenings and weekends instead of being out on the rigs. She’d always been a drinker, but mainly socially. His being around so much seemed to trigger something in her, and just like that, we were living with a full-blown alcoholic. Every day began with a swig from the bottle of vodka she kept on her nightstand, and I rarely saw her without a drink in her hand. She’d rage around the house at all hours, coming into my room in the middle of the night to scream at me for something I’d done that had offended her in some way, sometimes dragging me out of bed to rectify whatever mistake she thought I’d made. My father would try to reason with her, but she’d threaten to divorce him and he’d back off and leave her to her own devices. She was the love of his life, and he would have done anything to keep her. We wound up being asked to leave our apartment building because of all the complaints from the neighbors, and my father found a single family home for us to rent in an attempt to cover it all up. That’s just what people did then, I guess. Keeping up appearances, hiding the truth.”

I got up from my chair. “Sorry, need to use the bathroom.”

After peeing and washing my hands, I splashed some water on my face but refrained from looking in the mirror, afraid of what I’d see staring back at me. He was pacing when I came out, but sat down again as I did.

“In 1988, my maternal grandfather died and my mother inherited a sizable sum of money. She lost herself in the process of buying and remodeling our home in the Garden District and the drinking diminished significantly…at least until she realized that no matter how expensive her clothes were or that we had a live-in housekeeper and a French chef, the women of the neighborhood who’d been there for generations would never accept her as one of their own. When Anne met my father at a Sunday service, my mother suddenly wanted to convert to Catholicism, hoping ties with one of the area’s most famous residents would improve her standing. She changed her mind when she found out that Anne was sober and had no qualms about pushing those around her to live the same lifestyle. The drinking escalated again, and by the time I was thirteen I was spending every moment possible at the New Orleans Public Library, or at Anne’s, or wherever else I could go that wasn’t home.”

Tom offered me another water, which I accepted. I’d been trying to avoid his gaze, but his hand grazed mine as he handed me the bottle and our eyes locked. We stared at each other briefly, then quickly looked away.

“School was a blessing for me in many ways, in spite of the fact that I was teased and bullied frequently. I was smart, weird, and chubby…not exactly a winning combination. By the time I entered high school, I started to come into my own and stand up for myself amongst my peers, but at home I was still meek, always walking on eggshells. If I got a ninety-nine on a test, she wanted to know why it wasn’t a hundred. If I got an A, why wasn’t it an A+? Nothing I did was good enough. Ever. No matter how hard I tried, there was no pleasing her. I started hiding out in my room after I conned our chef into helping me put a slide bolt on the inside of the door. That was my sanctuary, where I read, I drew, I danced, and I sang. For my sixteenth birthday I asked for a computer instead of a car, and it changed my life. I tore it apart and put it back together again, learned everything about it, inside and out. It became my passion, and knowing that I could do something that not many others could was such a powerful feeling. The real turning point came at the start my senior year when I was awarded the full scholarship to NYIT. She was adamant that no daughter of hers was going to go away to school in New York City and study such a stupid subject that was meant for men. It was the first time I lost my shit on her, and the first time that my father backed me up. She refused to contribute any money, so he sold some of his Exxon stock and bought me an apartment in Manhattan so I wouldn’t have to stay in a dorm. Or, I should say, my apartment. Because I still live in it. Sometimes.”

I smiled sadly, remembering how proud he’d been of me, and so happy that he’d been able to help me on the path to making my own way in the world. “College was…amazing. I was away from my mother, spending every day learning in the company of people who were like…me. I put on my ‘freshman fifteen’ and then some, but no one cared. We were all nerds, and what was inside was far more intriguing than what was on the outside. I met Erik Lund in my Comp Sci I class, and over the course of the first semester we became very good friends, taking in all that New York had to offer when we weren’t delving into the wonder that was the World Wide Web. It was 1995, and the hacking scene was exploding…god, we had so much fun trying to crack codes and get in through back doors, even if all we wound up finding was someone’s resume. It was if a new world had been created, one that belonged solely to us. Over Christmas break, I came to the stunning realization that I’d developed feelings for him, and when class was back in session he confessed that he felt the same way. We fell in love, a little bit at a time. I invited him back to New Orleans for spring break, and he couldn’t wait to see where I’d grown up. I guess I’d pushed all thoughts of my mother out of my mind, forgetting what she was capable of. From the moment he walked into the house she began criticizing everything about him. He was stocky, his hairline already receding, and, like me, he didn’t really give a remote shit about what he wore. And I thought everything about him was…beautiful. Right in front of him, she told me that even an ugly fat girl like me could do better. We left immediately and spent the rest of the week in my apartment in the city, slept together for the first time, and he officially moved in three weeks later. I took a summer class so I wouldn’t have to go home, but I’d agreed to be a bridesmaid for a close high school friend who was getting married over Labor Day weekend, so I had to fly back for the wedding. I wanted Erik to come with me, but my mother would be in attendance and I didn’t want to subject him to her insanity again, so he went back home to upstate New York to spend time with his family instead.”

I could feel my heart starting to race, and I closed my eyes and bit my lip, trying to calm myself down.

“I got a phone call the day after the wedding from one of Erik’s friends. He’d been killed in a car accident the night before, hit by a drunk driver doing eighty miles an hour in a forty-five mile an hour zone who crossed over the middle line.”

My mind took me back to that moment, how I’d said no, that can’t be right, it must be a mistake, how I’d fallen to the floor as the truth sank in, wishing I’d died with him. And later, how my mother had smirked when I told her the news.

“I flew to New York for his funeral, and two weeks later I found out I was pregnant. My mother tried to convince me to have an abortion, but I refused. It was the last thing that remained of him, a living piece of himself he’d left behind for me. His legacy. I decided to quit school, stay in New Orleans and raise the baby on my own. A few days later, I miscarried.”

Tom sniffled, and I looked up to see tears flowing, his hands gripping the armrests as he fought to stay in his seat. I wanted him to hold me, more than anything else. But I just…couldn’t.

“My heart was broken. I felt like there was no point to anything anymore, and that’s when I started drinking. First, I snuck booze from my mother’s stash. Then I had a fake ID made and started going out to bars every night, staying past close and staggering home to sleep the day away. I wasn’t eating, so I lost a ton of weight. My mother made it a point to compliment me on how thin I’d gotten. During Mardi Gras of 1997, I met Will Bonaventura. He had long, dark curly hair, dark brown eyes…Spanish creole, going back three generations. I was drunk and singing karaoke, and after he heard me he asked me if I wanted to sing with his band. He played lead guitar, and I figured it was a great excuse to party. You know, ‘hey, I’m not a drunk, I’m an artist’. I moved into his shitty apartment and continued my binging. That’s really all we had in common…partying. That and music. One weekend we decided to drive to Las Vegas for a Battle of the Bands, and I drank so much I blacked out and woke up with a ring on my finger and a photo of us with the Elvis impersonator who’d married us. He said he remembered everything that had happened, that I said I’d loved him, but it was all…blank…for me. Once we got back to New Orleans and he met my family the abuse started. Just verbal initially, constantly belittling me, accusing me of cheating, calling me a slut, telling me he was going to find someone better. My solution was to drink more. I started when I opened my eyes and didn’t stop until they closed. Time just passed, and I…slipped away. More than a year had gone by when he finally hit me. It was early in the morning so I wasn’t totally blotto yet, and got in his face after he started his shit and told him that usually people who accuse their partners of cheating are the ones who are being unfaithful, and he punched me in the face and called me a worthless whore.”

I watched Tom’s grip tighten, and thought he was going to rip the armrest right off the chair.

“I hit him in the head with a rum bottle, and he left for a few days. He never touched me again, for any reason. A month or two later, my father came over to the apartment. He told me I needed to stop drinking, that I had my whole life ahead of me and that he didn’t want me to wind up like my mother, that I needed to get away from her and New Orleans, that I was brilliant and I had to go out and make my life mean something. He apologized for letting his love for my mother blind him for all those years as to how much she hurt me. We embraced, and he was gone as quickly as he’d come. The next morning Anne called me to tell me that he’d killed himself. My mother found him in his study. He’d shot himself in the head with a revolver.”

Tom opened his mouth and started to speak, but I held up my hand to silence him. I was almost there, almost done.

“I haven’t taken another drink since that day. After the funeral, Will was nowhere to be found. My father had left me all of his remaining Exxon stock, which of course pissed my mother off to no end, and I decided to cash it in and move back to New York a week after we buried him. I already had a place to live rent free, and I wouldn’t need to worry about money for a while. I packed up what I wanted to bring with me, which didn’t even fill an entire suitcase, and headed over to what was now my mother’s house to confront her about being such an evil cunt my entire life before I left. When I got there, the door was unlocked, so I went inside. I could hear her moaning and screaming and chanting ‘oh god yes, yes, harder, harder’ and it was like someone flipped a switch and I saw red. I ran up the marble staircase and could see that the door to their…her bedroom was open and as I got closer I yelled ‘He hasn’t even been dead for two weeks and you’re already fucking someone else you enormous piece of shit?!’. When I stepped into the room, there was Will, naked and on top of her. He rolled off, grinned at me, and she said in her stupid fucking fake southern accent ‘Actually, we’ve been fucking for months already. See, Maude, that’s the thing about women like you. Sure, y’all might manage to get yourself a man, and hell, he might even stick around for a little while, but you’ll never be able to hang on to him. They’ll always leave you the second they find someone prettier. And thinner. Always.’. That was the last thing she ever said to me. I left town, and I found out from Anne that she’d told my father she was having an affair, was in love with Will and wanted a divorce, which is why he killed himself…he’d mailed his suicide note to Anne because he knew if he left it at the house, my mother would have made it disappear. I filed for divorce immediately, and as soon as it was final two months later, in August of 1998, Will married my mother. I didn’t know it until last night, but they divorced in 2007, which is why I’m the only remaining next of kin.”

I took a deep breath. “I guess the thing that sticks out most is that I have not a single memory of her touching me, holding me, or telling me that she loved me, unless someone else was watching. I was just a pawn for her, an object, just another thing to use to get what she wanted. And when that didn’t work any longer, she focused all of her anger on me, blaming me for everything that had gone wrong in her life, and what she then wanted more than anything else was to see me fail. Over and over again.”

I raised my hands, palms up. “So, there you have it. That’s who I am, what I am. The progeny of a narcissistic alcoholic and her love blinded enabler who’s already been pregnant, married and divorced. Used goods, broken down, badly damaged, always waiting to be replaced. Reasonably acceptable for fucking, but thoroughly unsuitable for an actual relationship.”

As I stood, he leapt up from his chair and tried to embrace me. I shook my head, put my hands on his chest and pushed him away gently, then went to sit back on the bench. He sat back down, head in his hands, sobbing again. I took out my iPod, put in my earbuds, cranked up the volume and leaned my head on the window. I stared blankly out at the sky, my self-imposed isolation the only thing preventing me from losing control of myself and falling apart. Which I refused to do. Because it was the only thing I had left to hold onto.

********************************** There was darkness, and I felt arms reach around me, hands on my lower back and below, fumbling, searching. They found what they were looking for, and I felt something slide along my back and then up around my waist. A strong scent hit my nostrils, one I recognized but couldn’t place. I inhaled again. Tom. A click from down near my belly button. I tried to open my eyes, but the lids were just too heavy. Then, the feel of something soft and warm being pulled up over me as I drifted away.

A loud voice saying ‘We’re now approaching MSY, landing in ten.’ jarred me fully awake, my eyes flying open. I was unsure of where I was for a brief span, but then everything came flooding back at once. I looked around in a panic. A pillow had been placed between my head and the window, and a blanket covered everything but my feet. I pushed it off me, then glanced to my right and saw my iPod and earbuds resting next to my messenger bag, along with a bag of Lindor truffles. Then my eyes found Tom, seated in the chair across from me. As I studied his face, his shirt, his hands, his knees, all of him, a cyclone of emotions overwhelmed me and I realized that I was no longer numb.

The left corner of his mouth turned up in a sad half-smile. “Hope you don’t mind that I took your headphones out and gave you a pillow and blanket. You fell asleep almost immediately, and I figured you needed the rest and didn’t want the music to awaken you, or for you to wind up with a stiff neck, or be cold. And I apologize for touching you without your permission when I buckled you in…the pilot announced…”

And just like that, I saw him again. Tom. He knew everything, and he still cared for me.

I shook my head, interrupting him. “It’s all fine. Thank you.” I pointed at the blanket and pillow. “For these.” Then at the truffles. “For those.” Then waved my hands and ran my gaze around the cockpit. “And this.” My eyes met his. “And for wanting to be here. And for listening.” I pointed at the truffles again. “But especially for those.”

He laughed softly, and I smiled, then bit my lower lip.

“Tom, how did you know I’d still be at the airport?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“What was your plan if I hadn’t been there?”

He leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Take the jet myself and wait for you to arrive at Louis Armstrong.”

“I might not have gotten there for another day. Or two.”

“I had no intentions of ever leaving that airport without you by my side.”

What I wanted to do, what I needed to do about last night became abundantly clear to me.

“Did you book a room yet?”

He looked down briefly, then back up at me, face red. “Yes. At the Prytania Park Hotel. I chose a double queen, in case you preferred to not sleep with…to have your own bed. They’re separate, one on the main floor and the other up a spiral staircase so you’ll have…”

I interrupted him again. “How about a car?”

“Yes. A rental. I won’t know what make and model until we get there.”

“Thanks for taking care of it all. After we land, I’d like to go directly to Passages Hospice and get…that…over with. Once we’re checked in to the hotel, there’s something I want you to do.”

His jaw twitched, then he nodded. “Anything.”

“I want you to tell me why. Why you reacted the way you did after we ran into Norman. Why you got so drunk. Why you said those things to me. And, most importantly, I want you to tell me why it is that your life became so dark.”

He paled, folded himself in half, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. After a few moments he sat up and ran his hands through his hair, then began touching his neck. He was breathing through his mouth, fear in his eyes.

“Maude. I…I..” He shook his head. “I’m afraid if I tell you, I may lose you.”

I put my hand on his knee, and he looked frantically back and forth from my hand to my face, shocked at my touch.

“Thomas, you’re definitely going to lose me if you don’t tell me.”

As the jet touched down I removed my hand. He was looking down, eyes darting to and fro. The cabin door opened, the steps lowered. I unbuckled my seat belt, put my iPod and the truffles in my messenger bag, then headed for the door. Tom followed.

As I stepped outside, the oppressive humidity and smells of the city washed over me, drowning me in memories. I proceeded down the stairs, and as my feet made contact with the tarmac it hit me that I was…back. In the place I’d vowed to never be again. The place that had taken from me so much more than anyone should ever have to give. The place where I’d lost everything. I could feel the panic rising, and as I lifted my hand to place it on my chest in an attempt to calm down, Tom took it in his. I stared straight ahead as our fingers intertwined, then stepped forward as he squeezed gently. I squeezed back, and we slowly made our way toward the gates, the pilot pulling our luggage on a cart behind us.

#your light in the mist #chapter 15

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queenoftinydogs · 7 years ago

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dad stuff

john mulaney joked on his last special, in a brilliant tag slipped sideways into a story, “none of us really know our dads.” there was a pause for the crowd to absorb the words, then unanimous laughter. we know exactly what he means. it requires no further explanation.

i have quite a few close friends who lost their fathers early in life, whether to illness, tragic accidents, or abandonment. many of them were very close with their dads and this day is very hard for them. but it’s also hard for the vast number of us who have dealt with other kinds of absent fathers.

maybe it’s a generational thing, being raised by distant men who were raised by distant men. the generation of “we did the best we could.” they kept us safe and put food on the table, a roof over our heads, and provided us with the tools we needed to become successful adults.

it’s almost become an internet meme-- the idea of ‘daddy issues.’ that our fathers can do everything by the book and still leave a gaping hole in us from a perceived lack of approval. i fall under this category. lately i’ve been wondering how much of it is my own built up walls, and if there will ever be a time when i can lower them to let something else more genuine in. after decades of a certain familial pattern, it’s unfathomable for me that it could ever change.

and then there is my other dad. my biological dad. i met him when i was twenty, and although it filled in a lot of gaps in my understanding of myself, it also opened up pandora’s box. perhaps it’s an idealization of the road that i had no option of taking, but it made me wonder what my life would have looked like had my adoption played out differently. maybe i would have been a completely different person. undoubtedly, i would probably be dealing with a host of other issues. maybe i’d have the ‘dad thing’ all sorted out, but there’s always something else we feel we are lacking. it’s human nature.

the basic feeling i have today is i missed my dad. i missed him. like a ‘ships passing in the night’ kind of thing. my biological dad and i have a lot in common, and meeting him was like a salve to my deepest wounds around spirituality, god, religion, and my lack thereof. it was the first thing that made me feel like a stranger in my own family. embracing dogma was my adoptive father’s life cornerstone and he raised us accordingly. i was the only one who really struggled with it, and continue to do so today.

my birth father is a reflection of many of my best and my messiest parts. he’s smart, creative, warm, and funny. he struggles with depression and anxiety, and he gets paralyzed with indecision for fear of making a mistake. he's expressed to me a fear that he made the biggest mistake of all by letting me go. to call this difficult is an understatement.

how do you approach a relationship like this? he missed the first twenty years of my life, not for a lack of wanting on his part, but out of respect for my adoptive mother’s wishes. he and his pregnant girlfriend made an agreement, bound by law, and couldn’t trust their own emotions when they began to have doubts. i want to be able to look at the whole situation as fate, out of my hands, and not worth looking back on. but days like today bring it all up again.

i wish i had known him. i wish he had been a bigger part of my life. i wish my adoptive mother had been more open, more graceful, and more trusting. it’s hard for me to acknowledge that she played a crucial part in this pain because we are very close. i don’t like thinking of her as a villain, and life is rarely black and white. everyone involved was acting out of emotion, fear, and the human memory is extremely fallible.

i’ve heard each person’s varying perspective on how it all unfolded, aware that we all want to paint ourselves in the best possible light, and aware of the filters they may use when talking to me, the adopted child. i’m content with never knowing the full truth-- if given the opportunity, i wouldn’t go back in time to see it for myself. what good would it do?

i’ll end this extremely lengthy emotional vomit by saying that i understand how difficult it must have been and i forgive the adults in my life for any inadvertent mistakes. at the same time, i vehemently disagree with the idea that all adopted children must be grateful, which is a common and harmful sentiment. i’m not grateful, and i’m not bad for not being grateful. it’s natural to feel loss and grief when separated from birth family.

instead, i just am. i am this person and i love my adoptive family and i'm sad that i hardly know my birth father and that’s okay.

#fathersday #adoption

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refiningspacetime · 7 years ago

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>THE TRADITIONAL GAME OF ASH-CHICKEN (P1)

Hadean and Pheres have a long history of meddling with one another, starting when Hadean intervened with Pheres’s matesprit shortly after they first met - and rolling downhill ever since then in an ever-escalating war. Pheres’s solution to this? Meddle more intensively in Hadean’s life, until Hadean’s finally forced to admit that he can’t handle it and flees the scene entirely.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite turn out the way Pheres plans. It turns out that no one ever wins when it comes to games of ash chicken.

>CAST

invertedDissident | Hadean

refiningSpacetime | Pheres

gentleOssifrage | Kilran

JUNE 7TH: Kilran and Pheres have been growing increasingly aggressive at one another during the public chats. While Pheres's initial attempts to handle it involved rephrasing Kilran's aggression as pitch attempts - a conclusion cheerfully carried on by the chat - when it fails to dissuade Kilran's threats, he decides to take a different approach, and suggest they speak in private.

-gentleOssifrage [GO] began trolling refiningSpacetime [RS]-

GO: Really. You should just start paying attention to the chat so you can respond in time to actually deliver a blow. GO: It loses its effect if you do it an hour late and just embarrasses you. RS: / oh / do save your lectures / some of us actually have work to do / and are forced to talk in between it / RS: / what in the world is your problem with me / ? / if it is pitch / I should think I have made it clear / RS: / I am deeply uninterested / GO: Don't worry, I am too. RS: / thank the empress / GO: You're a horrible, terrible troll and your ideals are revolting and the fact that you go around and try to spread them is just GO: What's the term? GO: Something stronger than reprehensible. GO: Absolutely fucking disgusting. GO: For someone who's a lowblood, you're painfully fucking dimwitted and you're more willing to lick at the toes of people belittling you AND!! GO: And your friends!! GO: And you try to convince the people around you into doing the same. GO: Which, admittedly, everyone is free to feel how they like, but then here YOU are, vomiting up your rhetoric on everyone around you like anyone actually cares about what you say. RS: / haha / good heavens / just tell me how you really feel / GO: You're an ugly troglodyte who thinks he's SO MUCH BETTER and SMARTER than everyone when in fact!! All you do is spout information that ANYONE can find with a simple google search! Can you even DO anything besides from that and go around grovelling and trying to convince people to become the rightful lowblood servants that they should be?? RS: / you have so many feelings / I do feel bad for you / it is difficult to be brown / and harder still if you let your resentments fester / RS: / but all this sounds like you are unhappy / and instead of figuring out why / RS: / you are choosing to lash out at me / because I have the audacity to not / hate our society / hate the position I have been given / and / RS: / mm / hate myself / evidently / ? / that sounds tiring / haha / ! / RS: / but / here / I will apologise / RS: / I am sorry I am educated / RS: / I am sorry that Prisma and others seek my advice and input / RS: / I am sorry that I am not / oh / so incensed by our lot in life / that I am content to wallow in self pity and fear / RS: / rather than just bettering myself to avoid as much trouble as I can / RS: / I would say that I am sorry that I hurt your feelings by impugning your work / RS: / but / well / RS: / one must learn to take criticism eventually / RS: / =:) / GO: See, this is the kind of shit I'm talking about. You do realize that the whole 'oh yes, if they're picking on me, it just means they're jealous and/or fearful of how their life is ' is complete and total bullshit, right? You DO realize that or are you that dim? GO: Oh boo hoo, I'm so sad and afraid, I'm afraid of my life and I hate myself ohhh noooo =:( GO: Is that what you were hoping to hear? That I'll burst into tears? GO: That's pathetic. You're pathetic and two dimensional and stupid if this is the kind of shit you think you can say and STILL think that you're the coolest, oh most reasonable person to exist. GO: The more and more I hear about you and learn about you the more I realize you're just this horrible, hateful little grub that screams and cries and thinks he's the biggest and most moral troll around and THAT'S why he's better than every other lowblood. RS: / oh / forgive the terminology / I assure you / I am being entirely sincere when I say / this is adorable / RS: / whoever said that I think I'm better than anyone / ? / you are this marvelous fountain of accusations / and perhaps if they were accurate / I would be deeply injured / RS: / heavens / I might even feel bad / RS: / but they're all so mystifyingly inaccurate / and leave one wondering where you even got them / GO: Oh I see, so you're pulling THIS card? RS: / but I'd hate to make guesses / GO: Is this really the worst you can do, Pherry-berry? GO: Are you this fucking bad at talking to people that when someone confronts you like you WANTED them to (don't forget, you offered to DM me!), all you can do is pull the 'So are you, what am I?' and the 'You're so cute when you're angry' cards? RS: / I am afraid you're misconstruing this conversation / Kilran / RS: / this has been nothing but me asking a question / which you proceeded to answer with / GO: Should I go ahead and write down weak spined and completely fucking useless down on the reasons why I dislike you? RS: / / six lengthy paragraphs describing my every sin / RS: / I already said I'm not pitch for you / I am not looking to insult you / when you do a well enough job on your own / RS: / should I be arguing for my own good standing here / ? / RS: / or shall we wrap this / ? / I was trying to let you have your fill / get all of these /- feelings -/ off of your chest / RS: / so you can stop upsetting Prisma / by turning every conversation / into a poor attempt at a brawl / GO: You're going to end up a shitty, burnt-out-in-a-sweep battery and the world isn't going to lose a damned thing, you know that? Everything you do, everything you hoped to do, will mean less than the crinkled up wrapper of a cheap candy bar laying in the streets once you finally join your 'rightful place' in the fleets. GO: It's going to be a great future for you Pheres. Aren't you excited? RS: / mm / at least you're set / RS: / they still like using lowbloods as pails / even in the fleet / RS: / lucky you / you have cornered a universal market / =:) / RS: / you know / I have been curious / for someone so righteous about his intrinsic worth / RS: / do your customers have you change your blood / too / or do they find it more attractive to realise they're dealing with a brownblood / playing at being anything other than he really is / ? / RS: / because personally / that seems a little depressing to me / GO: You do realize you can take as many pot shots as you want at my job and I won't care, right? It doesn't bother me and it's just sad that you're going for the low hanging fruit. GO: And neither do I care about what my customers think of me. I'm not paying them for their opinions. They're paying me for what I can do for them. GO: Don't you know how business works? RS: / hahaha / like I said / you're adorable / RS: / it's like watching snack attack a shoe / good heavens / GO: Or should I mark down another reason as to why you're so reprehensible? The fact that you're so fucking terrible at holding your own in a situation like this that you're trying to ask the highly paid sex worker if they care about being a sex worker. GO: You're just RS: / I'll put the thought into genuinely upsetting you / at the point that you stop projecting every tragic thought in your head at me / like it is actually relevant or important / to this discussion or any other / GO: You're so stupid GO: Now I'm actually feeling bad. GO: Am I really sure whether or not you understand this conversation or your own words? I don't know. I can't answer that. RS: / hahaha / personally speaking / I got what I wanted from this conversation / I am very sorry that you didn't / RS: / good light / GO / have a wonderful evening / GO: Fuck you. -gentleOssifrage [GO] stopped trolling refiningSpacetime [RS]- AUG 21ST: Hadean begins getting aggressive with Malili in public: Pheres private messages him to make his disapproval known, in what is quickly becoming habit for the two of them. -- refiningSpacetime [RS] is now messaging invertedDissident [ID]! -- RS: / and what are you doing / ? / ID: eating pizza. RS: / riveting / don't you know that usually takes two hands / ? / RS: / perhaps you should try it / ID: nah. =:/ you just roll it up, tada. RS: RS: / you are supposed to use a fork and a knife / Hadean / ID: ID: what. RS: RS: / have you never seen anyone eat a slice of pizza before / ? / you just pick up the slice with a hand and eat it pheres. RS: / yes / well / let's not get off topic / RS: / what are you doing in the chat / ? / ID: dealing with a jerk. RS: / because lu is incapable / ? / ID: why would i leave it to lu? RS: / why would you take it upon yourself / ? / ID: because that's what i do? RS: / mmmm / RS: / i am personally just mystified as to why you think engaging in an aggressive verbal assault on an indigo / is such a marvelous use of your time / RS: / or / better put / as you said to me / just the other night / RS: / i don't see why you feel the need to lock horns with every prat who opens their mouth / ID: they started strutting around acting like a jerk first. they threw down the glove, i took it and started hitting them with it. =:/ RS: / so / if someone is being dreadful in public / RS: / it is perfectly acceptable to fight with them / ? / ID: when they're a highblood. =:) RS: / you're a marvelous hypocrite / RS: / I am certain this has been said before / RS: / but for the record / ID: yeah, maybe. RS: / don't say / maybe / RS: / that is something you ought to fix / Hadean / he is awful / but all you are doing is evidently leaving CA / to feel as if she needs to clean up this mess / RS: / while you coddle lowbloods being vicious to one another in the same breath / RS: // or / no / pardon me / RS: / while you aid lowbloods being vicious to one another / until it ceases serving whatever point it has to you / ID: i told tineol to not worry about it. ID: and i'm not coddling or aiding lu in to doing shit, lu is vicious all on her own. i didn't egg her on or anything, she's doing this all on her own. ID: so are you pulling up her info to give her a scolding too? or is it only unfair to target one troll when it's you being targeted. =:/ RS: / Lu does not intervene anytime someone goes after Kilran / or any of her friends / because it is only an issue if you are horrible / RS: / when you are above yellow / RS: / so / no / =:/ / ID: well don't worry, because they're gone now and everything is fine. RS: RS: / well / ! / if that's the case / what am I even doing here / ? / =:) / ID: =:/ ID: meddling. RS: / yes / well / I suppose that is a flaw on both of our ends / RS: / enjoy your pizza / Hadean / RS: / and get a fork / for heavens sake / -- refiningSpacetime is no longer messaging invertedDissident [ID]! -- ID has sent yumyum.png! He's stuffing half a slice of pizza in to his mouth. With his hand. -- invertedDissident [ID[ has stopped trolling refiningSpacetime [RS]!-- LOWBLOOD CHAT: AUG 24TH: Pheres enters the lowblood chat, seeking entertainment, and stumbles across Kilran, insistent on having a friendly "conversation". Things promptly begin to deteroriate. RS: / / alright / RS: / I am dreadfully bored / it is a tragedy / RS: / and this girl is not hurrying on her business / I think she is trying to intentionally spite me / haha / RS: / =:/ / RS: / what is everyone else up to / ? / RS: / or else / who wishes to give advice / on various inane matters / ? / RS: / i am certain i can dig up only the most mundane of materials for your persuasal / GO: What sort of matters? RS: / name a topic / i am sure i can generate a scenario to best challenge your expertise /(edited) GO: Oh, I suppose I can do that. GO: Hmm. GO: How about swordplay? GO: Since we were talking about swords the other night? RS: / i suppose we were / RS: / very well / ! / a fellow is entering a tourney with his moirail / in order to pursue a championship title / RS: / the rules of the competition state that the final two contestants / must duel each other / RS: / it is agreed that his moirail will lose her final match / in order to guarantee that he will win / RS: / and / as he is the newer contestant / their income from the bets will be significantly higher / RS: / she chooses to win instead / upon realising that a loss at this level / will drop her ranking nearly five points in total / RS: / who is correct / ? / GO: It sounds like a classic situation of failure to communicate. Shall we call them Moirail A and Moirail B? Moirail B should have talked to Moirail A when they realized it would have dropped their ranking so that they could, instead, work out which solution they desired the most - ranking or money. However, lacking that and playing upon the hypothetical that they do not talk and if they asked people to take sides: GO: Moirail A would have been in the right. GO: Moirail B knew exactly what a lose would have entailed and had already promised to lose. A promise between moirails is not one that should be broken easily, especially when the choice is between a large sum of cash that could be easily split and enjoyed by them both, and a rank that could have easily been re-earned - although one could say that about the money as well, could they? GO: Regardless, a promise between moirails should never be broken, only renegotiated. RS: / well / you certainly put a great deal of thought into that / didn't you / ? / GO: No, I knew my answer the moment I read it. RS: / haha / well / good / ! / it'd be a little worrying if you didn't / =:) / RS: / i was trying for inane / not difficult / RS: / mm / I'd do another / RS: / but I expect that would get rather tedious / RS: / on second thought / RS: / how are you tonight / ? / GO: Very well, thank you. GO: I'm packing. GO: And you, Pheres? RS: / oh /? / where to / ? / GO: Saahin. GO: I'm meeting up with Prisma tomorrow. RS: / really / ? / GO: Yes, really. GO: I've cleared out my work schedule for at least the next week so I can spend some time with him. RS: / heavens / everyone's meeting up with him tomorrow / maybe I ought've waited / and scheduled my visit for then / =:) / RS: / haha / my / how kind of you / GO: Haha, perhaps you should have! We all could have gone out for a date. GO: I would have loved to meet you in person. RS: / mm / i am afraid i am not especially keen of meeting strangers off of the internet / RS: / sipara has always advised me that's rather unseemly / RS: / but / =:) / what a lovely thought /(edited) GO: Oh? Is that so? GO: What a shame. GO: I'm so very sorry to hear that Pheres. GO: If it will help you feel less left out, I'm sure I can keep in touch with you while we're out together? RS: RS: / haha / my / what / ? / RS: / i'm afraid you've lost me there / RS: / completely / GO: I'm... afraid I don't understand what you're saying? RS: / whyever would i feel left out / ? / GO: You talked about waiting to schedule your visit while everyone was visiting. I was simply attempting to extend a friendly hand to let you follow along the events as they happened, almost as though you were there. RS: / that was a jest / =:) / my apologies / i am aware it is sometimes difficult to read tone over the internet / for some / RS: / i do not think a date lends itself to additional company / unfortunately / ! / GO: You are correct. It is difficult. GO: And if you say so. RS: / unless it's a double date / i suppose / RS: / those are always charming / RS: / hadean's visiting as well / the two of you could always pair up pitch for a day / ? / =:) / GO: Do you think so? GO: I never thought the two of us could flip that way. GO: We do like each other after all, as friends. GO: Perhaps I should ask him if he thought we were ever pitch material?(edited) GO: I've never seen it. RS: / haha / my / it doesn't have to be Hadean / prisma does have other friends as well / RS: / why / you could go with / mm / what is her name / ? / RS: / batzra / ? / GO: Perhaps you're right. She seems kind. RS: / you seem rather more to her tastes / now that i think about it / RS: / she's very / eloquent / GO: I would indeed love to meet up with her and talk. GO: She is indeed. GO: You have very good advice, Pheres. Perhaps I should ask her out on a date. RS: / you're so very excitable tonight / RS: / it's only an off-hand suggestion / kilran / there is no need to go planning a hand-fasting / before you've even met up with her in person / =:) / RS: / that / too / by the way / is a jest / GO: Oh, of course. I never thought to jump into things so quickly. No, I'm afraid I do like to spend a lot of time getting to know my partners before I decide to quad with them. GO: After all, that is how you lay the foundation for a long and frankly stable relationship. ID: and here we see the unstoppably backhanded force meeting an immovably cheerful object. GO: What a shame would it be if we quadded and we broke up after only a perigree together? That would be awful. ID: fascinating. GO: Oh, hello Hadean. RS: / hadean / ! / GO: Hadean, did you ever consider us going on a pitch date? Pheres thinks we should try a blind date together. GO: Well, 'blind.' GO: Just for a day. RS: / kilran is apparently giddy with anticipation / RS: / if i'd known a little comment would get him all frazzled / why / RS: / i'd have reccomended something a little more plausible / haha / RS: / are you so keen on the thought of quadrants / kilran / ? / RS: / i never would have guessed / GO: It has been a good night for me. GO: I've had some very pleasant news come my way and I won't lie and say I'm not just a little over the moon about it. ID: what good news. RS: / how marvelous / are you going to share / ? / GO: That, I'm afraid, I will not say. Not yet. RS: / my / =:) / ID: well, we're being teased. RS: / i think teasing would require a greater amount of curiousity / RS: / i am merely pleased on behalf of kilran's good fortune /(edited) ID: this was fun. but i think you two got your perigee's fill of sniping at each other. GO: I am not sniping. GO: I do genuinely wish to have some sort of good rapport between us. RS: / are you sure that those tattoos are not paint / hadean / ? / RS: / given your propensity for trying to swing a club / =:) / ID: why, the way you two go at it in public instead of a private chat, well. ID: it almost seems like you two are waiting for interference. =:) GO: I have nothing to say in private I will not say in public. RS: / really / ? / i don't think that's quite true / RS: / i am starting to think you just enjoy meddling / ID: mmm i feel like there's a quote about this. is it the one with glass hives or the one with cooking utensils... ID: oh well. shake hands, tell each other it was a fantastic 'conversation', go back to your corners for the night. GO: I can do that. RS: / i don't think i meddle in your affairs nearly to this extent / all things considered / RS: / nor do i think this is an instance that /- warranted -/ meddling / ID: ah. but you do meddle, hm? RS: / but very well / =:) / have a lovely night / kilran / do enjoy your visit / RS: GO: I will, thank you Pheres GO: And if you do have time to visit, let me know? I would love to treat you. ID: scoot now kil. RS: / i did admit that i do meddle / RS: / that's hardly the gotcha that you think it is / RS: / and / mm / of course you would / =:) / ID: was it a gotcha? i was just shocked you admitted it is all! RS: / and why wouldn't i admit it / ? / ID: but i'm so glad you're being honest with yourself. it's a good thing for a troll! =:) keep it up. ID: i'll be returning to what i was doing now, have a good non-kilran-y night. RS: / why / thank you / ! / RS: / have a lovely evening / i suppose i'll just be moving to general now / =:) / ID: man, i have a lot of free time to wander down memory lane here. MH: Run fast from the trashfire in the main chat. RS: / i am retreating over here / does that spare me your ire / hadean / ? / ID: ˙MON ┴HפIɹ ��∩WS ⅄⅄⅄ɹƎΛ פNI˥ƎƎℲ ⅄˥q∀qOɹԀ Ǝɹ,∩O⅄ ƎS∩∀ƆƎq 'ON RS: / i don't think you know me nearly as well as you think you do / so / hush / RS: / / and do try to take a breather / why are you putting on that awful quirk / ? / GO: Because of you, Pheres. ID: ˙Ԁ∩ W∀Ǝɹp O┴ pƎɹ∀p ɹƎΛƎ S∀H pNIʞ˥˥Oɹ┴ ┴∀H┴ פNIƎq ⅄˥OHN∩ pN∀ ⅄˥OH ⅄ɹƎΛƎ O┴ ɹ∀ƎMS I N∀ɹ˥Iʞ SA: SA: oh so this is where hadean went. RS: / mm / RS: / hello / prisma / ! / ID: ˙ƃuᴉlƃuɐɹʍ ɹǝlƃƃᴉɹʍ uǝǝq 'zos RS: / how are you / ? / RS: / the chat has been rather busy / SA: i can see this. SA: i will make tea, hadean. SA: i'm fine. ID: ˙ʇɐǝɹƃ spunos RS: / marvelous / ! / SA: i'll have to quiz hadean on what was going on. But I'm glad it seems to have stopped. ID: ˙ʎɹoʇs ǝǝǝlloooɥʍ ǝɥʇ noʎ llǝʇ ll,ᴉ 'ʎɹɹoʍ ʇ,uop ɥo RS: / =:/ /

GENERAL CHAT:

GO: I've been kicked out of the lowblood chat. Is anyone around in here? RS: / haha / i suppose there isn't / ! / GO: Oh hello again Pheres. RS: / hello / ! / =:) / GO: Good to see you in general. ID: y'know. i tried to be nice. i tried to think to myself, hey! ID: maybe they'd listen! RS: / lowbloods got awfully quiet / and i am afraid my customer is still busy looking / RS: / so i thought i might help add some life to this chat / RS: / or / well / channel / ? / ID: i know pheres is all about his image, he'd hate for this to go so public. where all can see in the chat. ID: but here we are. GO: Oh of course. You know your presence is always wanted in here. RS: / of course / ! / but how kind of you to say so /(edited) ID: but fine, i guess. we'll sling mud for everyone to watch, i guess. =:/ ID: pull up a chair, ladies and gentletrolls. RS: / hadean / there's no need to work yourself up into a tizzy / RS: / perhaps you should go read something / ? / GO: We are being particularly civil tonight.(edited) ID: yes yes, your needles are very elaborately decorated tonight, i'm so proud of both of you. ID: you've come so far from threatening murder! ID: i'm wiping a tear from my bulb just thinking about it. ID: they grow up so fast. RS: / heavens / i don't believe anyone has ever threatened murder / RS: / save / well / you / RS: / but / ah / given your accusations of my meddling / RS: / perhaps i should start noting those in the moment / RS: / rather than /- after -/ ? / GO: Oh my. ID: uh-huh. kil hasn't ever threatened harm. just like you haven't ever wound him up just so you could then play the shrinking rust for all to see. MN: sooo did .I. comE at thE worst possiblE timE or RS: / oh / not at all / pull up a seat / emerel / RS: / hadean has gotten himself in a tiff / MN: oh boy MN: lEts hEar it MN: whats up ID: you're gonna make me dig up logs, aren't you. RS: / feel free to dig up all the logs you would like / it isn't as if i've done anything wrong / RS: / my apologies we are not all / mm / as aggressive as you / GO: I'm afraid I only wanted to come in here for some polite and good natured conversation. MN: hEy go haVE wE mEt MN: who arE you GO: I have been on my best behavior. RS: / mm / we were having a perfectly pleasant conversation / i thought / ! / GO: I'm not sure if we have, but I have seen you around. GO: Emerel, correct?(edited) MN: thats .ME. MN: glad to know .I.m mEmorablE GO: You were the one that Pheres told me to talk about to ask permission to teach him how to swordfight. MN: oh MN: yourE kilran RS: GO: Oh, has Pheres talked about me? GO: He said you were overprotective. RS: / heavens / i'm surprised you even remember it / haha / MN: point bEing MN: .PHERES. can handlE himsElf just finE without sword training MN: so no MN: pErmission not grantEd GO: I thought it was for show, not protection? GO: That is what he told the chat the other night. MN: .MY. point still stands GO: May I ask why? RS: / / are you really so enthused by the idea of teaching me to sword-fight / ? / GO: I am. GO: I would love to show you the tricks I've picked up over the sweeps. MN: you dont nEEd a rEason kilran MN: takE no for an answEr and shoVE it ID: we all know why and that's why it's not happening. ID: and why i'm sure you told em to tell kil no. RS: / i am sorry to disappoint / RS: / but i have had several sweeps of training beforehand / =:) / there isn't much /- to -/ teach / RS: MN: rEally hadEan MN: rEally MN: yourE going that routE GO: Goodness, I hope he told Em to tell me no. Otherwise, I'd have to say this is a frightening relationship. ID: kilran, go to your corner. GO: I'm only being a concerned troll, Hadean. RS: / mm / i wouldn't say frightening / RS: / perhaps as unbecoming as your insistence upon being in my physical presence / despite the repeated polite refusals / that have been levied your way / ? / RS: / why / one would think someone your age would be /- adept -/ at understanding that a simply stated refusal of interest / ought to stand by itself / ID: no, you definitely aren't kilran. RS: / without one having to duck behind their matesprit to avoid unwanted attention / =:/ / ID: pheres, go to your corner too. RS: / you hush / ! / ID: nope. MN: .I. swEar to god MN: o8< MN: dont makE .ME. go thErE guys HL: oh dear~! ID: hahah oh wow. way to arrive at least three weeks late em. HL: is everything quite alright~? MN: not rEally ID: yeah, actually. really. RS: / it is perfectly fine / but / ah / RS: / how kind of you to ask / lannia / =:) / RS: / how are you / ? / GO: Pheres, you do realize this insistence of mine is only so that you could stop your incessant and lowbrow sniping, you know that? Perhaps if we could meet in person would could have a better chance of resolving our issues rather than shriveling up online ir hiding behind a matesprit's lies RS: / my apologies / i meant to ask you earlier in the day / but i became rather busy / ID: ˙uɐɹlᴉʞ RS: / my incessant sniping / ? / RS: / heavens / i never realised you were so sensitive / RS: / have i stepped on your toes / ? / HL: oh dear~! ID: ˙sǝɹǝɥd GO: Is it not cruel of you too to force them to paint themselves as an overprotective, abusive troll just to hide behind their words like a martyr? RS: / my apologies / if so / it was never my intention / HL: i am doing quite well thank you, but it seems like you have quite something on your hands~! RS: / haha / i wouldn't say it's something / =:) / RS: / just a little bit of a misunderstanding / evidently / HL: what's the misunderstanding~? HL: it seems like there's quite something going on~! RS: / haha / one must be delicate with others feelings / and evidently / i misunderstood that / RS: / my fault entirely / i am sorry to say / =:( / i should have been more aware /(edited) GO: Oh Pheres. GO: Forever the martyr.(edited) HL: oh no~! i'm sure things will improve if you talk about it~? GO: Sometime you must get tired of playing victim when highbloods are around, don't you? HL: oh don't you think that's a little tiny bit nasty~? HL: well it's not like he meant it, yes~? GO: He means it. GO: He's said many a cruel thing to me behind prettied words, you know. GO: Just the other day I talked about being too busy to visit a friend, and well. HL: :0 HL: what~? RS: / oh / ? / RS: / am i playing the victim / ? / really / ? / RS: / what a curious way of viewing it / ! / MN: hEy .PHERES. MN: did you gEt thosE tExts translatEd HL: what ever does he mean pheres~? RS: / mm / he means that my rebuffing his continuous threats of physical harm / is playing the victim / RS: / evidently / but / ah / the texts / ! / CC | draggletailSkiver - 08/24/2017 DS: i was gonna say like wow hi but uuhhhhh can i get a what the fuck im going to bed, rest in peace y'all RS: / haha / oh dear / RS: / good light / lili / ! / GO: What he means, Lannia, is that he purposely attempts to agitate people with tiny comments and backhanded phrases, so that when they do get upset, he can pretend that he is the one being attacked in this situation despite quietly and consistantly needling someone over a period of weeks. RS: / try to sleep well / =:) / MN: run ds MN: .I. dont EVEn know who you arE MN: but fucking bolt it GO: It's underhanded and frankly just a little bit embarrassing. GO: I can't imagine what it's like to not have a spine. HL: oh dear~!!! GO: Oh dear indeed. GO: Considering your hue, Lannia, I'm sure he's very committed to making sure you have the best image he can make in your eyes. RS: RS: / mm / no / what i mean is that kilran has had an unorthodox and frankly unflattering obsession with my physical battery / RS: / the thought evidently brings him gratification / ? / i don't pretend to know / but / i personally am rather tired of this conversation / RS: / so/ https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/284778361220235266/350466320363421707/unknown.png RS: / this is the sort of thing i have been dealing with for / oh / RS: / three perigees now / ? / RS: / clearly / speaking up about such untoward behaviour / after experiencing it for perigees on end / RS: / is playing the victim / MN: okay what thE actual fuck ID: wow. really. HL: :I RS: / but / ! / RS: / i believe we are all a little tired of this spat / RS: / and we are driving out the other members of the chat / RS: / which is unkind / at best / GO: Again, he needles for months, paints himself in the most victimizing light he can, and try to throw things around for pity points. ID: gee, i think we were tired before you both started. RS: / well / ! / as long as i /- deserved -/ this sort of attention / RS: / that makes it entirely alright / whatever was i thinking / ? / ID: so. how about you both just. ID: ˙ԀO┴S פNIʞƆ∩Ⅎ RS: / mm / i am stopping / don't invert your text at me / GO: Pheres, were you born without a spine or did someone rip it out of you when you were young? ID: ˙⅄∀S פNIʞƆ∩Ⅎ I pIp ┴∀HM N∀ɹ˥Iʞ MN: ugggh MN: .FUCKING STOP. GO: You know what he's doing Hadean. GO: I will stop when he does. ID: ˙ԀO┴S OS ˙∩O⅄ ┴,NƎɹ∀ Hפ∩OH┴ ƎW∀פ ⅄┴┴IHS SIH פNI⅄∀˥Ԁ Ǝɹ,∩O⅄ GO: You saw it yourself, I came in here to have civil conversations. GO: And he escalated it. ID: ˙SɹƎ˥פפIɹM פNIʞƆ∩Ⅎ פNIƎq ԀO┴S ┴S∩ſ ∩O⅄ ℲO H┴Oq GO: Perhaps we should settle it like adult trolls then. ID: ˙N∀ɹ˥Iʞ NI∀פ∀ SSƎ∩פ NפIʞƆ∩Ⅎ pN∀ '┴HפIℲ ∀ H┴IM ⅄∀S O┴ פNIOפ Ǝɹ,∩O⅄ GO: I never said a fight. RS: / well / ! / RS: / is anyone awake over here / ? / RS: / or have they successfully scared all of you away / ? /(edited) MN: .I. for onE am fEEling VEry tErrifiEd right now MH: That was a fucking trash fire. MH: Genuinely one of the worst things I've ever seen. RS: / haha / my apologies / RS: / i am sure it will not happen again / MH: Sure. MH: I saw how you jumped from chat to chat. MH: Haha, wow RS: / mm / well / RS: / / i will do my best to ensure that it does not happen again / ? / RS: / a better compromise / perhaps / RS: / how are you tonight / ? / MH: Doing your best to prevent it in the future doesn't change what we've already seen. MH: Anyway. MH: Trash fire aside. MH: I'm doing great. RS: / i could object to this tongue-lashing / but i suppose it is rather warranted / RS: / so / ! / i will bow my head / haha / MH: Haha, wow. Okay. RS: / and / that's lovely to hear / MH: What have you been up to besides from. All of this. RS: / collecting commissions / dealing with customers / RS: / you seemed to enjoy octopuses / ah / going by that stuffed one / RS: / so i spotted these / and thought you might like them /

-- refiningSpacetime [RS] has attached octopi.jpeg! It's a dumbo octopus in a jar. --

MH: Cute.

#bwic #[chat]#it's making me break it up into parts like a SAVAGE #hadean dauths #pheres dysseu #kilran barbas

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