#i hope i never fell into these stereotypes unintentionally

[rosemallowss]

Im so sad too with all that´s happening around TBWDOA, it was magical the first time that I listened it: so much life, love and humanity even in the darkest places of the world... I felt that the hope around it was more strong that any problematic subject... I know that maybe im being naive and self-blinded by my own privileges, but im so angry that the controversy destroyed what for my was so beautiful. I dont know if this is weird, but I wanted to talk with someone that maybe feels the same :(

Hey dude, I thought exactly the same thing. I actually still think it, but every time I see any trace of the show in my camera roll or the copy of the album, it’s so hard not to think about all the angry people. I think now that it’s been a few weeks however, I can fully hold a discussion about this musical without feeling guilty or sad. Despite what other people think, I really don’t believe that the writers has hostile intents at all. If you look at old posts like this:

You can tell just how passionate they were about this show. & plus, I realized recently that these guys tend to write shows about topics that are not normally talked about as well. Example: this show and ‘Talk To Me’– a show about a child who is on the Autism spectrum. I suppose you could kind of count their other show “With The Right Music” as kind of that? However I’m actually not totally clear on what that show is about since it wasn’t actually written to the end– though I think it is about a closeted teenager in high school. I suppose this counts because there aren’t that many musicals written about closeted teenagers. I truly don’t believe that they were trying to offend anyone– simply were just so so invested in trying to get a story out there, maybe one that was unfamiliar to them, and perhaps it was also bad timing that the full show was released? Or maybe they were just as naïve too when they wrote the show probably around 2015 (earlier?) I used to always get their attention (unintentionally I swear) on Twitter when I’d talk about the show. Those dudes were really kind. And they follow back a lot of their fans. So, perhaps it was just naïvety? I’m aware that they’re attempting to make it right, and they are probably at the moment in conversation with Afghan Americans. That’s important, and speaks more than words I think. I know Troy, Nikhil, Sittichai, and Jonathan have been under fire. Troy has gone silent and if I’m not mistaken I think Sittichai and Jonathan as well? Other actors in the show such as Osh (Zemar) and though a small appearance– Shiv Pai (future Paiman’s son) have gotten no such comments I realize. Maybe the show was bad timing. Perhaps it would’ve had a more positive outcome in terms of rising popularity had it been talked about in a past tense; in a sense that “this practice doesn’t happen anymore” so that the setting is not modern day, but instead sometime in the late 1900s?Would that have made the show less controversial? Maybe? But we can never be sure. Would it have been less controversial if they minimized the extend of the abuse? Or removed that altogether and made it that it was simply two boys falling in love in rural Afghanistan who were coming terms with the fact that they were feeling this feeling with each other? well, yeah, because it would just be a love story in a different setting, and we’d probably see Feda and Paiman exploring the marketplace as well. If this was the case, I’d assume the conflict of the story would be homophobia from parents/internalized homophobia itself, or struggling to understand themselves. Another conflict could be something that many teenagers experience as well, such as fear of the future. Maybe arranged marriage could still be a conflict, and since Feda’s name literally means “sacrifice” he’d probably still have to die in the end. Perhaps they could have rewritten the show like that and the show would have little to no controversy? The music is incredible, and it could even portray the beauty of Afghanistan through their amazing way of writing music. I’m just brainstorming and rambling here, sorry! when it comes to this show it seems as though that I always just vomit out more words than anyone cares to hear. Let’s address why it was controversial as well though... Many were repulsed by the idea of s-x trafficking as a musical, and even more outraged with the musical being about Afghanistan. It showed negative parts of the country, and that would add on to people’s perception and dislike toward Afghans, which if you live in America you are aware of the racists’ stereotypes and disdain toward Afghans. (If you are naïve like me, you probably did not catch that as well. I truly forgot that there were people who perceived Afghans in a negative light. I was awed by the diversity in the show and so focused on that) I believe that they also have said how gay men are usually perceived as pedophiles as well and this show did not help to minimize that harmful stereotypes. I’m obviously kind of dumb because I didn’t realize that stereotype.

However it is true, because realized I often see this trope in fiction books about “creepy uncles preying on their nephews”. Though people don’t agree with the fact that it is a musical, I always saw it as a different way of storytelling. There’s a book called The Kite Runner that talks about the same topic in this musical by the way. I didn’t know this but my friends have had to read that book as an assignment in their English class. I thought, well, TBWDOA, it just tells the story through songs. So all in all, these were many of the points people made, and you cannot be upset with them for being angry. When I first listened to the show, I was aware it was controversial, but I thought the controversy would be something that can be discussed and debated while being enjoyed. Similar to how Hamilton is often debated for glorifying the founding fathers while still being a good show. However, when I replied to one comment because I thought that this was how it was going to go, I was bombarded with several other comments, I was called pedophilic and was told that because I was not Afghan that I should not speak and when someone said that, I realized “okay, I was wrong to think that this was an issue that could be debated!” I did not realize how much deeper it would be. As a result, I was flooded with comments from instagram and twitter and it was STRESSFUL and overwhelming that I just couldn’t sleep and had to take a break! However someone told me that even the most controversial, flawed works of art should be appreciated or discussed. It’s up for debate if that’s true. The show is incredible in portraying the strength of the human spirit— “find your voice, even if it’s weak, using it can make a difference that will lead to a greater change.” It showed a boy who used something that was SUPPOSED to degrade and silence him as a tool to lift him up and strengthen him– that was an incredible theme. He found power in the resources he could. Dancing was supposed to be something he could not decide, but he made it his own, would not let it weaken him, and used it as a tool to push him toward more positive hopes. There’s something so powerful about people taking back the thing that was supposed to weaken them, and twisting in into something that gives them strength. Though just because the music embodies the main characters incredibly and the message is empowering, we cannot ignore that perhaps, yes the show was quite insensitive to many Afghan Americans. It might take me several months before I can listen to any song from this show again though. But the show has such a special place in my heart, for making me fall in love with music theory and musical instruments all over again, for pulling my heart strings with incredible themes/life lessons, and the show embodying that theme in a heartbreaking final song, and then lastly providing a beautiful love story. Am I insensitive for saying that? I really don’t want to be, but a story like this has never made me feel like that before. I was intrigued by Islamic wedding customs and researched into that. I fell in love with the purpose of whirling dervishes, and fascinated by how beautiful that was. I watched videos about them, i read about them. Feda talked about an old Afghan poet in the show and god, for hours I looked up that poet and read the translated English phrases (didn’t finish however). I was taken by the beautiful geography of Afghanistan. I researched beyond the show to look at Afghan culture and I appreciated that. I understood that, of course this wasn’t a common practice that is active in Afghanistan. But I’m aware now that so many people will not see it that way at all. They saw the show as indulging the idea that this practice is apart of their culture which is not true, and the original theater did not market that well at all.. I want to hope that this was just really bad timing, that this show was misinterpreted, and in the future will be enjoyed and discussed rather than torn apart. I never like being on the controversial side of things, but, gosh, I don’t know.

But, I know exactly how you feel. And I welcome any asks/my messages are open for discussion about this show now.

[ifsomeoneasksiwasnothere]

Drunk Talk [One-Shot]

(Cover not available yet) 

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Read this on > | Wattpad | AO3 |  Spirit | Deviantart | 

Character Pairing: Offenderman/Bartender!Reader

Word Count: 4000

Rating: T

Warnings: Mention of murder, violence, and sexual abuse.

Synopsis: You are a stressed bartender from an old bar called "Midnight Rambler". A place where monsters were usual customers.     Unfortunately, a violent storm came just as you had to close the bar. Forced to stay inside and wait for it go away past midnight. One last customer comes by. One that you already knew for a long time.     Offenderman, the tall, charming, and alcoholic man, has entered the Midnight Rambler once again to drink his problems away.

A/N: Sorry for delaying this for so long ^^

If you think there are points to be improved, as long as you are respectful, criticism is welcome :D

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    There is nothing better than spending a cold rainy night inside your home – soft sounds of raindrops colliding on the window, relaxing music playing in the background leading your thoughts far away, along with the warm embrace from thick layers of blankets causing your body to sweetly melt out of comfort –it was the perfect scenario for a stressed mind like mine. All that I needed, and wished for, was at least having a few minutes of rest. Unfortunately, this night I am not watching the rain from my home's window, but instead from the bar's, the Midnight Rambler.

My job mixing and serving drinks at the Midnight Rambler bar is entirely exhausting. The quantity of money I receive per hour for my effort is disappointedly unfair. I live on my own, in a humble apartment that besides its little space, makes me feel welcome in the short time I am not working. To pay my rent, I have to cover three of four shifts, which results in almost 15 hours a day during the whole week, except on Sundays. It is the only reason for me to like Sundays.

However, my exhaustion did not affect my professionalism. No matter the time nor the weather, I do the necessary to achieve utter perfection, hoping that one day it will be paid off.

Inevitably, working for such a long, tiring time, can sometimes make my mind wander far away from Midnight Rambler, unintentionally grazing on 'what if's —

"— And then he turned around and I appeared right in front of him! He got so shocked that he passed out instantly! Like, DUDE, you should have seen his face," Nora, one of my most frequent customers, busted out excitedly.

The positive point of working here was meeting its unusual clients. Nora, for example, as lively and cheering as she can be, she is, in fact, dead. Gone, for good. Living as a wandering ghost. But how? Every time I asked her, she would drastically change the topic, or tell an absurd story that could never have happened.

Yet she was right in front of me, talking, drinking, interacting, except she was not. It took me a while to get used to seeing her disappear behind the entrance door, and not reappearing on the outside of the windows as she walks away. Grasping the idea of serving alcohol to an undead can be challenging. For myself, I'm still adapting. Besides, Nora is often very talkative and outgoing, therefore I easily forget about her true self and get along with her well.

I lift my gaze from the glass I was cleaning to glance at her from across the counter, brushing my daydreaming away and blinking slightly.

A soft smile forms on my face as I return to focus on the dirty cup in my hands.

"Sounds like you had fun."

"You have no idea," she said snickering, "He was so jumpy! I mean, a simple 'Good morning' startled him. It was ridiculous — funny — but ridiculous."

Nora then raised her hands in the air defensively, looking away from me.

"But I must admit that I might have purposely made him get to this point."

I rolled my eyes at her, knowing it was typical of her to haunt random individuals for no reason. She saw it as entertainment.

"Really? I could never imagine you doing something like that." I said with a sarcastic tone in my voice.

"Aw c'mon, it was just for fun!" she whined, "Besides, he deserved it. I saw him harassing a girl the other day, along with his friends. He was forcefully lifting her skirt so he could take a picture of her underwear."

As I finished washing the last glass and put it aside, I snapped my gaze at her, gasping in disbelief.

"What a bastard! The hell why would he do that?!"

"YEAH, RIGHT?!" Nora snapped hysterically, her words echoing through the bar so intensely that its vibration almost broke one of the recently cleaned cups. Luckily, she did not attract attention from others. The clock on the wall showed nearly four in the morning, which meant that everyone had gone away, plus, it was time to close the bar.

Shaking my head disapprovingly, I confessed: "Alright I take that back, you should have done worst to him. But damn, you do need some alcohol assistance. Here. This one is from me."

She cracked a playful grin, later breaking into a burst of laughter, whilst she leaned forward hitting her fist on the table repeatedly. Her strong arms left punching marks over the entirety counter.

I could not help but giggle softly at the sight of her dramatic reaction. Her laugh was undeniably contagious.

"Good thing they're dead. Now he can be a dick in hell."

"What? What do you mean?" my smile fell and I glanced at her seriously, doubting her revengeful spirit nature, "Did... did you...?"

"Me?! No – no, no, no –" Nora blurted incredulously, then continued, "I picked on them about a week ago, but they were murdered the day after. Not sure by who, though — the news didn't know about the killer."

Shaking my head, I hummed, "I... I see."

As I looked around the bar, I found myself staring at the raindrops gracefully sliding on the window. The thunderstorm blasted loudly whilst rain came violently splashing on the rough concrete.

Don't think I'll be able to go home anytime soon.

I sighed tiredly, turning my vision to check the hour. It was already past three in the morning. Nora noticed worry in my expression and immediately directed her eyes to the wall clock as well, following my gaze.

"I should go... it's getting late," she said as she got up from her chair, "Besides, you must be tired of me by now. I know I talk too much."

I throw at her a sympathetic look, which she gently reassured with a wave of her hand whilst she got near the exit. Lightings flashed out the window aggressively and thunders blasted in my ears, making me worry for my friend.

"Nora, you're going to soak yourself, plus, it's thundering outside! Are you sure?"

"Aw, you're so adorable! Caring about me and stuff! But I'll be fine," she responded lazily, "Don't worry about me so much; it's not like a little rain it's going to kill me."

Before I could protest, Nora disappeared after the wooden doors muttering a friendly "See ye later!".

It was a fact that she would reappear someday later, therefore despite continually looking after her, as a friend would do, deep down I knew I would see her again. Besides, Nora is tougher than she looks. Nothing (and no one) could harm her that badly.

Sighing hopelessly and tiredly laying my body against the counter, I enjoy the few seconds of break with my head between my folded arms. The silence filled my ears like the music of an orchestra – every minute was precious and made my body gleam in delight. My frame slowly turned all its energy off, relaxing completely. I unintentionally closed my eyes and took a deep breath in relief.

'Don't forget to close the bar when you're done with the clients!'

My boss's voice echoed in my head, interrupting my sleepiness. As I got off the table and grabbed the keys, I head towards the exit with loosely footsteps. Through the door's glass, I could watch the intense storming outside that made me stop in my tracks and wonder — How was I supposed to go home with the weather like this? — My eyes examine the place, looking for answers. We did not have an extra umbrella that day, although it would be dangerous either way to walk home at this hour. The street seemed deserted and no cars passed by.

Then I took my final decision: not going home at all. Fortunately, we had blankets plus some comfortable pillows for these occasions, besides, couch seats are not that bad.

Just as I was to lock the exit, a familiar figure sitting on the sidewalk catches my attention. I immediately open the door wide enough not to get wet, taking a better view of them.

"Offenderman?"

He turns to me with a surprised expression which quickly changed to a pleased smile.

"Oh, hello darling. It's so good to see you," his voice was deep and low, almost inaudible due to the storm. Every time Offenderman opens his mouth, my entire body gets goosebumps. His words were so easily stuck in my mind; All due to his charms.

"Are you okay?" I ask worriedly.

"Better now," he grins wider, showing me his shark pointy teeth. I tediously rolled my eyes at him, while trying to avoid starring at his clear teeth.

"Just come in already! Unless you prefer to —"

"Alright, Alright!"

As Offenderman walked through the entrance and closed the door behind him, I rushed towards the cabinets under the counter.

He eyed me curiously, letting waterdrops fall on the floor's wood while he took his dark hat off. His accessory was the same color of his long black jacket — the ends of it hid his inhuman, and long, pale legs — dark, plus discreet.

Ah, Offenderman, what could I possibly say about him? Another one of my unusual clients who happened to find Midnight Rambler just when it was most needed. Alcohol is the same as water to him, no matter how many beverages I served, he was never satisfied. The night we met, I served him Whisky, — drink after drink, our conversation flowed— Offenderman's first impression to me was the stereotype of a womanizer. An impressive persuasive, charismatic, and confident man whose charming personality could win – or break – anyone's heart if desired. Usually, he would leave the bar at dawn, alongside woman he allured, who he'd never speak with again.

Towel in hands, I approach the tall figure and offer him the thick fabric politely.

"Here, take this," I said to him.

"Well, why thank you — how kind." He murmured.

I grew used to his compliments and kind words, aware these were all it meant to him: words; Nothing else. Meaningless words. I keep my walls up to prevent getting hurt, clearly due to his intentions. But, even with my negative thoughts of him, something always caught my attention.

"Do you have anything for you, though? It's freezing, you must be cold."

Unlike differently from his other lovers, Offenderman cared for me with true affection. He genuinely worries about my well being; it always caught me off guard. This was uncommon for the usual superficial flirty I knew.

"I'm... okay... don't worry about it," I responded airly, "and please dry yourself because I don't want to have to clean this floor again."

He carelessly pats the towel on his jacket a few times as I contour the counter. Thus, the tall man naturally relaxed on the chair opposite me. I stared at him, then asked:

"Since you're here, what do you want to drink today?"

Slightly surprised, Offenderman's shark teeth are exposed to me once again along with his characteristic smile.

"From you, sweetheart, any drink is a paradise. Serve me whatever."

Ignoring his comment, I prepare a strong and bitter beverage like the ones he mostly asks for. My tiredness has not gone away, therefore I had to concentrate not to spill the fluids as these were poured in the mixer — Little bit of this, little bit of that — after shaking the product, the drink was done right in front of the customer, who finished the first glass in one single sip.

"Perfect. As always, of course." He complimented, humming delightedly.

"Thanks," I answer, clueless of how to react to his constant flirting.

"So," he started, "How was your day?"

Faces can say just as much as words, they say. A frown was all it took for Offenderman to shake his head disapprovingly. His smile faded to a more sympathetic one.

"Ah, not so good, I see," he said as I poured more drink into his glass, "Mine wasn't that nice either."

"What happened?" I turned to him right after filling another round. The pale man sighs, tapping his long fingers on the table.

"Family meeting."

Oh.

"I'm getting a bigger glass."

I turn my back to him and head to the top cabinets. A few moments later I offer him a Seidel: the name of a German-style mug as large as a human head, plus thick walls to help maintain a cool temperature. The rest of the drink left in the mixer — still fairly amount of volume — was now in Offenderman's mug, however, the liquid hardly filled half of his glass. As I realized this, my hands automatically worked on a new beverage.

"Ah, yes, that will do," approved him softly, not wasting time to turn his drink as quickly as he could before telling me the details of his day.

"So," he started, "Have I ever mentioned about my family? Because if I did, I probably was too drunk to remember it, and that doesn't happen often."

"I don't think so," I said, trying my best to recall anything on the subject, "You never talked about them to me."

Offenderman shifted in his chair, before continuing:

"Basically, I have three brothers — Trender, Splendor, and Slender — It's just us," I nodded as he spoke, following his reasoning, "We aren't close and don't interact often — but Splendor insists on having meetings at least once per month; he tries very hard to unite us as if at some point we'd all magically understand each other."

"He sounds quite the dreamer," I commented.

"Indeed," he agreed, "And he's extremely optimistic, and cheering if you ask me, — like all the time — pure sunshine, example of the family."

"Is that how you think of him?" I wondered, raising my eyebrows, "Must like him then."

He glanced down at his empty glass, his jet black hat covering most of his face, "Eh. Kind of, yes. I still manage to get along with him mildly well despise our... different tastes."

"I see," my smile was inevitable due to the simple thought of Offenderman having such a positive brother, opposite of his personality. "If that's how you see him, I wonder how they see you as."

"The black sheep," he muttered.

"Really?" I questioned him.

"Yea," his weak, almost unhearable sigh, made my heart sink, "They think I'm a disappointment."

"Don't say that! Offendenderman, they're your family and I'm sure they love you." I comforted.

"That's not how it works, y'know," he scoffed, took a big sip of his drink, then smiled at me, "Aw, but aren't you adorable when you look out for me?"

Funny. I thought. Not the first time people say this to me.

My lack of energy prevented me from expressing my unamusedness — face blank as stone, immune to his charm, — my thoughts remained unreadable by him "Mhm. And how come you never commented about your brothers to me before? For how long do I know you? Five years or so?"

His nonexistent eyes avoided mine, "I don't talk about my family to anyone, opening up is not my specialty," he said.

"Yet you're doing quite well," I stated kindly, "Glad you told me. This kind of stuff can be hard to deal with on your own."

Offenderman stayed quiet for a moment as he gulped down half of his drink.

"I'm aware," he glanced at me with a sincere smile that I have never seen coming from him before, "You're not anyone to me, you know that, right? — I'm happy I can count on you."

I was utterly speechless to his reaction, had he truly exposed his true self? Had he, even for a second, abandoned his womanizer facade?

"Yeah. Sure. Good to know." I managed to mumble out. He shortly redirected the subject.

"Anyway, I'll spare you the details of the meeting. It's always the same. Awkward silences or passive-aggressive bickering, usually from Slender, while Splendor tries to settle it down by offering house-made food."

I agree with understanding, "Was the food good, though?" Offenderman snorted, making me smile in return, "Mildly, I'd say," he says, barely hiding his sarcasm, "He's still learning. Still learning."

"Hah, I see," more drink is put into his cup. He thanks me silently.

"By the way, why were you sitting on the sidewalk back there?" I asked.

"Oh, that. Well I — I was just... thinking..."

"Mhm, thinking...?"

"It's just — I don't know, guess I was just pissed."

"About seeing your brothers?"

"That too," he paused, "But it was also because of something that happened the other day. I was leaving a bar to smoke a cigarette on my own. Like I mostly do, as you know, I like to isolate myself and reflect upon things. It was all chill, until this man suddenly appeared on the sidewalk, talking with a girl at his side. The moment I took my eyes off them, I heard the girl screaming, begging him,"

"LET ME GO!" she pleaded as the man grasped her arm so tightly that left a mark.

"Take your clothes off," He ordered, pointing a pocket knife at her.

"NO — No... please," She panics with tears appearing in her eyes, but soon realizes that there's not much she can do to avoid the situation due to the male's strength. She was the victim, powerless. Afraid and vulnerable. "Please... do you... want money? I'll give you my money! Just leave me alone!"

"I can get your cash later, now do as I say " The man got closer, cornering her, thus showed his shiny blade that was held in his firm hands. He waisted no time to press the knife against the younger's throat.

"I'm only repeating myself once: Take. Those. Clothes. Off. Now," he repeated.

The girl watched the man in pure shock. Petrified, even. Terrified of what she knew would come next. Tears escaped her eyes as the older one approached further. Her eyelids opened so much that her eyeballs could have jumped off her face. She couldn't believe. She had never felt so much fear in her entire life; it only got worse when a silhouette of a tall man wearing dark clothing appeared behind the harasser.

The man noticed how the environment around him darkened, so as he twisted on his heel to look back —

"— I tore his head off his body using my bare teeth," Offenderman finished, "I haven't felt this much rage for a long time. It took me by surprise, really."

I did not dare share a word. How was I supposed to answer this? Was he the killer that Nora mentioned earlier?

"I hate when people see me as that guy! I HATE IT!" he snapped suddenly and breathed heavily with every single one of his sharp teeth shown. "I AM NOT SOME ASSHOLE WHO RAPES WOMEN WHO DOESN'T WANT TO GO TO BED WITH ME! THEY DON'T WANNA GO SLEEP WITH ME? FINE. HAVE FUN. IT'S AS SIMPLE AS THAT! NO? NO!" He takes a moment to breathe, "...It's unfair... y'know? I never did anything like that. You know me! You know I'm not like that fucker. But why can't people see that too?"

"They will see, with time," I assured him, "If people get to know you, like I did, they'll see you as who you truly are and who you wish to be." I comforted.

"I hope one day... that happens..."

"It will. I'm sure of it. There's always a chance."

"Thank you... Y/N," he said not louder than a whisper.

We both take a glimpse of the window beside us, staring at the knife rain that was strong as ever despite the time spent. By this moment I simply gave up on the idea of going home. It did not matter to me anymore. However, Offenderman was here with me, and perhaps we were not thinking the same. Kicking him out was not an option I was considering. What was I going to do?

His voice brought me back to earth, "Damn, it just won't go away, will it?" he lamented, "Guess it means that we will spend more time together. How nice."

"You're not stuck here, Offender. If you prefer to go home I won't stop you."

"Nah. This is fine. I have nowhere to go, to be honest. Besides, I like being here with you. Your company is... pleasant."

"But you can't stay here forever —"

"Neither can you," I fell silent, "Are you going to sleep here or something?"

For a second my words failed to leave my mouth. Embarrassment covered my face. He was joking, but it was a sad truth. My lack of response ironically answered his rhetorical question, and he was paralyzed.

"Wait. Is this serious? You're going to sleep here? In this place?"

"What do you mean by that? I cleaned every corner of this bar and you dare to refer it as 'this place'?"

"No, look — it's not like that — that's not what I meant, sorry. It's just that here is not the best place for you to rest. And I know you need it. I noticed how tired you are, and I know you put a lot of effort not to show it, but you won't convince me. You deserve to sleep in an actual bed. Somewhere minimally comfortable for you to lay on."

"The couch seat over there is cozy enough. It's not my first time doing this. I appreciate your worry, but I'm fine." I mumble.

"Alright, you may not believe me, because you're too stubborn, but I can tell you're not fine. So I'm not going to let you do that."

"Offenderman, there is no other option —"

"Of course there is!" he stood up from his chair confidently, "C'mon let's get you ready to sleep!"

"What," I stood still in place, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to tuck you in, the best way I can. 'Do good things for people you like'. That's how Splendor usually does it. And it works — people like him a lot — so I'm doing the same for you."

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

"I'm always drunk, honey."

We stare at each other without sharing a word.

"Okay. Fine. Just tell me what you want me to do."

Holding as many pillows as he could find using his arms and tentacles, Offenderman arranged a fluffy nest on a long seat close to the window. Nevertheless, the remarkable effort he put on a simple task was not what surprised me. After he finished adding more comfy details, he popped himself on to his masterpiece on his back, then patted his chest.

"Lay here, sweetheart," he said.

I blinked at him doubtfully.

"C'mon," he continued, "I'm not gonna do anything, promise."

Too tired to protest. Not enough patience. Never enough. I just did as he asked.

He was stupidly tall when compared to me. It was scary how he could easily tower over me, but was never intimidating. Never to me. I lay on his warm torso that felt as gentle as the sun's touch on my skin, and his arms surrounded me like long, protective snakes.

"There. Comfortable?" he asked as he admired me sleepily shift on him.

"Meh," I answered lazily, "It's ok," he smiled thankfully.

"Perfect," Offenderman lowered his voice, then turned off the lights barely moving from his original place, with the help of one of his tentacles to reach the switch, "Good night, Y/N," his deep voice echoed.

"'Night," I mumbled.

My vision darkened, and all my stress disappeared. Finally, I had what I needed. Just before my mind shut up, I could swear thin fingers played with my hair locks. Nevertheless, I paid no mind. Too tired to protest. Not enough patience to deny. Never enough of him.

============================= Hellow dear reader! Thank you for reading this far ♥️ （*'▽｀*） I put a lot of effort to do this one, but I hope it paid off.

[rottenbrew]

◈  Nyx Lovette ◈ Entry for @lunisims Mason’s Bachelorette Challenge. ( I hope you grow to love her as much as I did!  ♥)

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➽ She was born on February 24, 1843, making her 176 years of age. Also making her a Pisces!

➽  She is half Hispanic from her mother’s side, and half French from her father’s.

➽  If ever pushed past her boiling point, or if she ever gets super angry or upset, (which is super rare) Nyx tends to curse under her breath in French and unintentionally puffs her cheeks out because of her overwhelming frustration lol.

➽  Nyx is a nerd for astrology and science, however due to the duties and mannerisms that were begrudgingly expected of women during her time, she never got the chance to pursue her dream of studying the massive universe she admires outside of what her father taught her.

➽  Nyx’s father, Vincent Lovette, was a renowned scientist and inventor of the 19th century, and was also infatuated with Greek mythology, thus naming his daughter after the Greek Goddess of the Night, Nyx.

➽ Nyx’s “dark” form takes after the way she used to dress when she was still alive in the 1800′s. Elegant, yet bold due to her preference of predominantly dark colors.

➽  Due to her age, Nyx is relatively wise, however she never truly interacted or experienced worldly progressions starting from the late 1900′s - now. She remained in hiding, so now that she’s willingly returning to the “real” and open world, (because she gained enough power to develop an immunity to the sun) she always gets excited like a child when experiencing the small things that others would find irrelevant or common. (Phones, amusement parks, dishwashers, HD films, etc.)

➽ Despite the pain she endured in her past, Nyx is still a very kind and cheerful individual. She takes joy in the simplest of things and focuses on the good in everything despite how harsh the world and people may be sometimes.

➽  Nyx was on the brink of death after giving birth to her first and only child, Zocrates, and the doctor attending to her was actually Vladislaus Straud. Mercifully turning her just in time, Vlad took Nyx under his wing, but strictly demanded that she was to forget she even had a son, as she would be forced to resign from ever being in his life due to her new form, and to protect their secret.

➽ Remaining in despair due to never being able to interact with her son, Nyx has always had a strong yearning to have a family and kids to call her own once again. Having to long for such things from afar, Nyx would sometimes sneak away from Vlad’s careful eye to play with the children from her town in her bat form as she appeared less menacing and at the same time preserved her secret. The kids all decided to nickname her “Baby Bat” as her bat form is relatively petite and her eyes were big and round like a baby’s.

➽ I also like to imagine that maybe Nyx and Mason met in their bat forms, with Nyx being extremely surprised to run into another vampire as she’s never met another one before (at least in her experience in the outside world) besides Vlad, especially not under those circumstances either. She would probably fly and circle around him like an excited dog lol!

Private Download if Chosen!

Nyx’s Backstory under the cut.

Nyx, as mentioned before, was born to a French scientist and nobleman, and a Hispanic seamstress. Their names were Vincent and Ximena Lovette. For the majority of her childhood and adolescence, Nyx was raised with nothing but love and admiration from her parents. Her father prided himself in knowing that his daughter was being raised with a proper education and opportunities to keep learning due to his status and position as a scientist. Although her mother, who was a bit more traditional as she knew what the future had in store for her daughter despite her growing knowledge, somewhat disapproved of her husband’s teachings, supported and loved her to the fullest. In 1849 however, Ximena fell ill to tuberculosis, and passed away a few short months after. Nyx, 6 at the time, missed her mother deeply, but the loss hit Vincent the hardest. He was undoubtedly and madly in love with his wife, that her death devastated him so much so to the point that he refused to step out of his office for weeks on end. During this time, Nyx took it upon herself to take care of him, and despite her small stature and inability to do certain things, she’d always make sure that her father would eat in the morning, evening, and night. Leaving new fresh clothes on the edge of his bed everyday, and always making a hot pot of tea for him around noon. One fateful day though, when Vincent managed to drag himself up from the pit of depression for a brief moment, he wandered around the house, re-imagining all the times he’d see his loving wife go about her daily routine with a gentle smile on her face. On the dining room table though, was a piece of paper, with writing scribbled on it. A child’s writing. It read “ Things that might make daddy happy.” 1. The telescope! He always likes to look at the stars with it. 2. Leaving drawings on his desk! 3. Making him his favorite breakfast but I don’t really know how.. 4. Picking some flowers! I’m going to go do that now- The list ended there, but on the bottom was a raggedy, but adorable stick figure drawing of Nyx and her father, hand-in-hand, with an angel smiling from above. Her mother. Vincent, with tears flowing down his face, clenched the paper tightly, and from that moment on found the reason to keep fighting. To move on. And that was to make sure he could always provide for his daughter, his pride and joy, and make sure she would never have to worry about how to make her father happy. He had to be strong, for her.

Nyx, now reaching her adolescent years, was beginning to catch the eye of many suitors. By the time she was 17, she already had 5 men asking for her hand in marriage. Nyx was reluctant though, despising even the thought or proposition of marriage. She wanted to keep learning, to invent, to find out what secrets the unreachable heaven in the stars had to reveal. But her priority for education was short-lived, as she realized that in order to uphold her family’s status and honor..her father’s status and honor, she had to marry one of these men. Out of all of them though, the least gut-wrenching and well..insistent was a lad named Clarence. Like Nyx, Clarence showed solemn interest during their meeting, but was a collected person unlike her other abrasive suitors. He was also the youngest out of them all, being 23. After long hours of conversations, meetings, and dinners together, they both came to an agreement and understanding. They knew they weren’t in love with each other, and were both similar in the fact that they were doing it for their families, so they came to terms that although they were to be wed, their relationship was to mostly remain platonic and distant. Even though this upset Nyx, as she would need to succumb to all the stereotypical “housewife” duties, she felt relieved in knowing that this would at least bring her father a bit of joy, knowing that she would continue to be cared for and wouldn’t be left to struggle financially. She was happy..for now.

The wedding was set on the exact date of Nyx’s 18th birthday, and the ceremony was big, as every aunt, uncle, cousin, brother, sister, pretty much everyone and their mother attended. But Nyx felt nothing. She appreciated all the happy faces that came to watch her be given away, but she always dreamed that her wedding day would be less miserable. The day went by in a flash, and before she knew it, months had passed, and her “what was supposed to be a stoic relationship” with Clarence increasingly worsened. They did not have the same priorities or standards. Clarence always putting her down for her courage to speak up for herself, and refusing to let her continue her studies as she needed to “finally know her place as a woman.” That’s when he announced that soon she would need to bear him a child, to ensure that his legacy and fortune was to be guaranteed. Feeling disgraced and defeated, she knew there was no fighting this, as this was exactly what she knew she was getting herself into. Nyx got pregnant, giving birth to a beautiful baby boy a short nine months later. Holding onto him for the very first time, Nyx felt the strongest pang of genuine love as she held this tiny creature tightly, who was sleeping ever so peacefully. But she felt herself getting weaker and weaker..something was wrong.The nurses ran out in a panic to grab the head doctor, and she knew then and there that these passing moments were most likely going to be her last. Clarence walked into the room with a dangerously calm and unnerved expression, and with the very last strength she could muster, handed her baby over to his father. The moment she felt the weight off her arms, it felt like her entire body gave in and was ready to shut down. She sunk her head back into the pillow, and her vision began to blur. “His name.” She heard. “What do you want to name him? It’s the least I can do for you, since...” Clarence’s words trailed off, as his face finally began to give way to a sullen expression. Nyx thought for a moment, and the instant thought of her favorite philosopher popped into her fading mind. “..Socrates...” But it couldn’t be common like that, she thought. “With a Z...” She heard a soft chuckle from Clarence, and she smiled softly. “Alright then, Zocrates it is..I will make sure to give him a good life, do not worry about that.” Nyx relaxed at hearing that, as that’s all she wanted for him. She sighed, and closed her eyes. She heard the footsteps of Clarence exiting the room, but after a few minutes heard the approaching of a different set of footsteps. Too exhausted and weak to open her eyes, she felt a sharp pinching on her neck, and everything went black.

The rest is all self-explanatory, as she awoke as a blood-thirsty creature of the night. Devastated that she needed to sever all ties with her son and her father..All the things she’s ever cared for and loved. She appreciated Vlad and looked up to him, but watching the years go by without a hinge...watching her father grow old and pass on..and her son..At one point the pain was far too much for her to bear, and she wished that Vlad would have just let her pass away like those that she loved. To live forever was a gift, but at the same time it was the worst curse that can be bestowed upon someone. Due to this, she locked herself away for a number of years and hibernated, putting aside all her vampire training and morals. 

Bringing us to the present! Nyx is in better spirits, and is finally awake from her deep slumber. She began to put her training before everything else, and soon managed to become powerful enough to resist the sun’s deathly, yet beautiful rays. She’s never been more ready to put herself back out there, and to see all the wonderful new things the world has to offer. Nyx is ready to accept whatever experiences are coming her way with open arms.  ♡

[stonecoldhedwig]

Gryffindor Types

Gryffindors get a bit of short shrift; we’re always just made out to be overzealous jocks. But, the diversity among Gryffindors is quite remarkable.  

Harry

Incredibly forgiving. Like good LORD look at all the people he gave grace to despite them being utterly horrid to him. Not just the big ones like Dumbledore and Snape, but people like Seamus in 5th year, or Ron during the Triwizard.

Stubborn as hell. Like, so irritatingly stubborn that I want to throw the book across the room.

Harry really struggles with something I think a lot of Gryffindors do, which is that there isn’t necessarily an intrinsic balance to the universe. We believe in the right thing, and justice, and therefore find it hard to tackle the fact that sometimes there’s no cosmic consequence to evil.

Basically just a sweet lil cinnamon roll? Like the poor kid can’t cut a break, but he soldiers on regardless.

Really, really loved Ginny, and was also willing to hurt himself in order to protect her. Starting from CoS where he thought he was dying of the Basilisk bite, right up to the final battle where he runs toward Bellatrix - Harry knows where his heart lies.

Bravery: walked into the face of death in order to save other people. Never once had a problem with sacrificing himself for other people. The spirit of his mother lived in him.

Ron

Loyal to a fault - stands up for his friends and family, in a sort of Hufflepuff way. Unafraid of mockery when he believes he’s doing the right thing.  

Of the three of them, Ron is the one who has absolutely no qualms about apologising for his failings. Ron is honourable.

Can be brash, and tactless, and thoughtless, but also possesses a lot of common sense and a really good heart. He’s more Molly’s son than he realises.

Struggles with the impact of 5 brothers and only 1 sister; at times can be unintentionally misogynistic, to not just Ginny but also to people like Hermione.

Ron essentially acts as the foil to Peter Pettigrew. Ron could have been just like him - always the butt of the joke, “Harry Potter’s stupid friend”, etc. Ron chose to be different, chose not to fall back on the fact he was a pureblood, who could have easily been courted by the Death Eaters by making him feel important like they did to Peter.

Bravery: you’ve got to be courageous to step outside of both the shadow of your family, and the insecurities you have about it. Ron encapsulates the idea of “try, try, try again.”

Hermione

Incredibly, ridiculously smart. Has many Ravenclaw qualities (like McGonagall), but also learns when to put down the books.

Passionately fights for those she sees as oppressed. Goblins, House Elves, you name it - she might not like them, but she sees them as her equals.

Knows that a Gryffindor who uses their head is just as important as a Gryffindor who uses their fists.

Prideful, and can be patronising, particularly at the beginning. Learns how to see the world through other people’s eyes, even if she doesn’t really understand them (e.g. the changing way she treats Luna, or Ron, etc.).

I see a lot of Lily Potter in Hermione. Brilliant Muggleborn, who fell for a man she didn’t expect to love, and who had the fate of the wizarding world essentially thrust upon her. Took it in her stride. Was a badass.

Bravery: Understood that there were things that were worth fighting for, and was willing to do it. But always, always tried to ensure that innocent people weren’t hurt: obliviated her parents to protect them, cared for the House elves, stood up for the kids Fred and George were testing WWW on, etc. Even insisted on putting Muggle money in the till at the supermarket during DH, even though they had the cloak and could just steal.

Ginny

Fierce. If you don’t want to be Ginny Weasley when you grow up, reevaluate.

Loved Harry for just being Harry, not because he was The Boy Who Lived, or because he was wealthy, or because he was famous. Rather like James loved Lily, she just loved him from the moment she saw him.

Feminist AF. Knew she loved Harry, but also knew that she didn’t have to mope about waiting on him. Dated other people, had a good time doing it. Didn’t take Ron’s shit about it, either.

Stood up for people. She often resorted to a stereotypically “Gryffindor” way of doing it (her famed Bat Bogey Hex, for example).

Definitely had Slytherin qualities, too (Ginny is like Fred/George, or Percy, while Ron is much more like Bill and Charlie). She could be shrewd and cunning, and even a little unkind at times. She struggled to find her place in the world, and that made her angry and hurt, which the Horcrux took advantage of.

She was sixteen in DH. Let that sink in. Sixteen. All the things she’d achieved by that point already, all the things she’d been through.

Bravery: Ginny is true to her own integrity in everything, whether it’s vanquishing Dark wizards, standing up to her brothers, loving Harry etc. She does what she thinks is right, thank you very much.

Neville

quiet, shy, often demonstrates a lot of Hufflepuff qualities.

Sword. Of. Gryffindor.

If there are Gryffindors who use their fists, and Gryffindors who use their heads, then Neville is a  Gryffindor who uses his heart. He’s thoughtful and kind, but passionate about the right thing. He also has intense loyalty to his parents, even though he struggles with both their legacy and their insanity.

Bravery: like Dumbledore said, it takes a hell of a lot to stand up to your friends. Neville did it often (not just in PS, but also in cases like OotP when he asks Harry if the DA was just a game, or whether it meant something).

Fred & George

Hilarious and mischievous.

Certainly had a spiteful streak, but their courage was in trying to temper it for good. Their ire was almost always targeted at the right people (e.g. Umbridge), but their sense of humour made everyone fair game. A touch Slytherin, in this regard.

At times they put people in danger, for good and bad reasons.

Bravery: it takes guts to laugh in the face of danger. It takes even more to make sure you’re making other people laugh while you do it.

Percy Weasley

Ambitious, smart.

More like Fred and George than he realises, in the sense that they are two sides of a coin. F&G are what happens when you combine courage/chivalry with anarchy; Percy is what happens when you combine it with dogmatism.

Struggled, in many ways, with the burden of being a Weasley and a Gryffindor. He followed Bill and Charlie (aka a Head Boy and a Prefect; Charlie was Quidditch Captain and a star Seeker), and therefore tried to make a mark of his own. Confused being loyal-to-the-rules with being right.

When he admitted he was wrong, it was not half-hearted. Saw the error in his pridefulness.

Bravery: it’s hard to admit you were wrong. Courage is more than knowing that you screwed up, it’s being willing to own up to it.

Lavender Brown

Scatty, almost a bit like Luna

Willing to understand that wisdom and learning can come from unexpected or unusual sources (e.g. her enthusiasm for Divination)

Could be a stereotypical teenage girl - obsessed with her first boyfriend, spiteful to Hermione at times, etc.

Bravery: gave her life at the Battle of Hogwarts, dying in a truly horrid way at the hands of Fenrir Greyback.

Bill Weasley

Badass.

Knew how to combine responsibility with fun (Head Boy, but also a Cursebreaker with a dragon-fang earring).

Was unashamed to love a girl everyone thought was wrong for him… and in doing so, proved exactly why Fleur was his perfect match.

Bravery: Lived with the consequences of his attack with good grace. Didn’t let it make him bitter. Trusted Harry, even when he didn’t understand him.

Charlie Weasley

Trained dragons.

No, read that again: trained. dragons.

Could have played Quidditch for England but went off to do what he was really passionate about, which is training dragons.

Bravery: I point you once again to the dragon training.

Lily Potter

Wasn’t ashamed to admit that she had got James all wrong. Learned how to love him.

Believed in the right thing, ardently. She saw the way that power and greed and ambition can turn a good person into a bad one, and utterly refused to play that game.

Lily is where Harry gets his sweet-cinnamon-roll-ness from. Under all her fire, there’s a sweet baby angel, and I will not be convinced otherwise.

Cut off her oldest friend at Hogwarts, Snape, because of doing the right thing: “you’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine.”

Bravery: without Lily’s sacrifice, Voldemort could never have been defeated. Her dying protected her son in order for him to fulfil the prophecy.

James Potter

Brash and arrogant, but a real heart of gold.

Loved one girl, and one girl only, ardently from the day they met to the day they died. Was unequivocal about it.

The similarity between Snape and James is that both of them were essentially little shits. A lot of people are when they’re teenagers. James thought he was the bees knees because he was an all-round golden boy; Snape thought he was superior to everyone because of his cleverness and ambition. The difference between Snape and James is that James saw the error of his ways. He learned to turn his arrogance into something powerful and good. Even when Snape turned on Voldemort, he never actually gave up his belief that he was fundamentally better than other people - look at the way he treated Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ron etc.

Bravery: it’s hard to change. Like, really hard. It’s hard to become better. James did that, and then some, willingly sacrificing himself and telling Lily to take Harry and run, in the hope that his wife and child might survive.

Sirius

Endured 12 years in Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit, and his only priority was making sure Harry was safe.

Risked life and limb on multiple occasions for Harry, because he knew that was the way to honour James and Lily’s memory. Died the same way they did - protecting their son.

Could be petty, even mean, at times.

Bravery: Walked away from a life that would have been easy - money, status, privilege, the Black family name - to one that was difficult, painful and heart-wrenching. Lost everyone, everything, and still came back to fight for the Order. Sirius’ bravery was not about who he was, but who he chose to be.

Lupin

shrewd, thoughtful, and kind. Essentially a blend of all the Hogwarts houses.

Suffers a little from the same thing Percy does (and to an extent, Harry): he cares so deeply about the right thing, but he often struggles with how to express that (e.g. running away from Tonks and the baby until Harry calls him a coward).

Incredibly talented in DADA, naturally inclining him to Gryffindor.

Bravery: he’s a goddamn werewolf, guys. He still manages to believe in the good side and doing the right thing.

[spiritwatch]

05/07/2020 - Trapped on a cursed island with robots, aliens, and ghosts

[PART I/III]

It started with a group of us being shipped over to live on a haven-like island. We only knew half of what we were getting ourselves into but agreed anyway. I’m assuming it was because we really didn’t have any other choice.

The town we arrived in was quaint and a beautiful mix of traditional European architecture and modern designs. The roads were a mixture of cobblestone and gravel and small, round islands of parks and greenery spotted around the land. We were brought to a waiting area by the water where we were told to wait until someone came to assign us our houses. So we obediently waited on those wooden benches by the lake until night fell and the lampposts around us automatically illuminated at their designated times.

My eyes began to wander and I was the first to notice the strange lights and shapes in the clouds.

“Look there!” I whispered to the others. “Does anyone else see those?”

The shapes began to clarify within the clouds as massive UFO’s with their windows and light beams faintly glowing as to not attract too much attention. It was almost comical to me that they were exactly as the media stereotypically portrayed them. They whirled around the area, seemingly surveying, momentarily stopping every now and then to beam something upwards towards them. Instead of shock and terror, we all stared in awe and wonder, as if something we knew for years had just been confirmed.

Then a noise drew our attention back into the village.

Large, egg-shaped robots as large as a car were wheeling around, their four legs extending their bodies up and down as necessary to attend to the houses and buildings. Some were repainting the roofs; others were unscrewing the windows to a veranda to rearrange it.

“So that’s how they do it,” a girl whispered a few seats away from me. 

We were all aware that while living in his haven-like neighbourhood, we had a very strict curfew that must never be broken. We were free to do whatever we wanted within our homes afterwards, but it was absolutely mandatory that not a living soul was out on the streets past the assigned times. Seeing these robots, with their menacingly large sizes and hands transformable into several different tools, we were the first to visually confirm why.

But now what about us?

The realization that we were - although unintentionally - breaking curfew washed over us. Were we safe? What would happen if we got caught? It technically wasn’t even our fault.

Then the new realization that maybe we were purposefully being left out hit us like a rock.

Sensing that everyone was getting restless, I took over, apparently more than confident I knew what I was doing. Gesturing to another boy, I called out to him. “___, shine that flashlight you have onto ____’s glasses so we can lead them further away from us.” At least we’ll feel safer if they weren’t in our vicinity.

They did as they were told and the flight flashed brightly into the trees further down the waterfront, attracting the attention of the robot just at the top of the stairs from us and the other ones around that area too. When they manoeuvred away, the whole group breathed out a sigh of relief.

[PART II/III]

It had been a few days since our arrival and the same people were called back to that meeting point by the water again. This time, several people were looking wide-eyed and dazed despite all the others outside of our group appearing fine. The only people that weren’t losing (or haven’t already lost) their minds were me, a little girl who took a liking to me called Olivia, and a few other young adults, including two of my childhood friends, Thomas and David.

After a few moments of sitting, a group of townspeople wearing ceremonial robes surrounded us with smiles on their faces, singing a haunting song about sacrifices and life beyond the grave being a wondrous place. They handed each person a thick canvas book, bound together by string and leather. The inside pages were empty except for the first one which held a table of contents. There were four listed:

1. Entering the home. 2. Witnessing the beauty of Heaven. 3. Accepting the song and curse of ____. 4. The End.

Several cold realizations hit me upon reading these and I looked to my friends in fright. The song the group had been previously singing was the one titled in the book. Does that mean we’re already nearing “The End”? What does “The End” even mean? Either way, I knew it couldn’t be good for a whole chapter to be titled “The End”.

“Maybe it was just a typo,” Thomas suggested, shrugging. He wrapped his arms around me. “Don’t worry about it, babe, I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe it just means the end of our initiation.”

“I don’t know about that,” David said lowly. “Haven’t you realized how strangely everyone else is behaving?” He rubbed at his arms, his dark skin forming goosebumps despite the warm weather. “Something’s been weird about how they’ve been treating us since the day we got here.”

Olivia tugged at my skirt. “Do you think they put a curse on us?” She asked fearfully, edging closer to me.

“I really hope not,” I mumbled.

Thomas, being the usual, carefree boy that he was, lifted Olivia off the ground and over his shoulder. “Nah, don’t worry about it,” he chuckled while spinning Olivia around to her glee. “Let’s just enjoy the new life we have here! Firstly by,” he grabbed me around the waist, picking me up. “Enjoying the water!”

“W-wait, Thomas,” I laughed, a hint of panic in my voice as I realized his intentions. “D-Don’t you dare!”

Laughing his loudest, he jumped into the water with the two of us in his arms.

For a few minutes, it did feel like nothing was wrong. Maybe I was just imagining things or thinking too much. Little did I know that this was the last time we would ever see each other alive again.

Something stirring in the water caught our attention and I called for David to quickly take Olivia out of the water.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked.

I pointed at the shape forming in the water, just peaking its head above the surface. It was...a horse made of water? Whether it was harmless or not, I knew it wasn’t happy with us disturbing its peace in the water and wanted us out immediately. Sensing it rearing up for a charge, I yelled for Thomas to swim away.

“Swim!” Being too far from the ladder back up to the walkway, we swam as fast as we could away from the creature to find any way out of the water, eventually coming to a bridge and small platform hidden away from the water where we easily climbed onto and away from sight.

Strangely, we weren’t alone.

There was a pink Pegasus lying there, gravely injured with a huge gash on its side and blood pooling around it.

But I recognized her, happiness upon the recognition bubbling inside me. As she lifted her head weakly to see who it was that had joined her, I slowly approached her and gently placed my hands on her uninjured back. “Oh my god, it’s you,” I whispered in shock. “What are you doing here? What happened?” Looking up to meet her eyes, she stared at me, unwavering. Afraid that she wasn’t recognizing me, I raised my palm closer to her head for her to smell my scent. Maybe she would recognize me then?

To my joy she nuzzled her face into my palm. ��Of course I remember you,’ I heard a voice echo in my head.

“Oh! Is this the Pegasus you told me about from before?” Thomas asked, making the connection. Apparently, I had told him about my previous encounter with the magical creature before arriving to the island.

Nodding my head, I searched around for a sharp object. “Man, why is it that whenever I need a knife, I can never find one? She needs my blood to heal faster.” But as I was about to send Thomas off to find one, the Pegasus motioned me over.

‘Here, I’ll do it,’ she offered, and I brought my arms closer to her. She gently bit at my skin, tearing a pinpoint wound on my arm so she could gently lap at the blood trickling out. Almost instantly, I could see the gash healing itself back up and the colour returning to her coat.

She thanked me warmly, warning me that something evil was watching over me and my friends and that if I wasn’t careful, I would lose everything.

[PART III/III]

I was in one of the large churches’ washrooms, the florescent lights above us flickering as I watched a snake strike a cat to death. I held Olivia close to me, holding her face to my stomach to prevent her from seeing. But instead of consuming it, it turned to me, hissed, and slithered away.

Then a gruesome scene flashed in and out in time with the flickering lights, showing me a large pool of blood on the floor and haunting words scrawled on the mirrors warning me of death. Trying to remain calm as not to scare Olivia, I calmly told her that we should give the cat a proper burial.

Wrapping up the body in my jacket, Olivia and walked down the hall towards the cemetery located in a giant courtyard within the church. But the sight of the courtyard terrified me and it wasn’t at all like I remembered it to be.

Instead of neatly mowed grass and organized gravestones, the ground had all been upturned and piled up unevenly, as if there were too many bodies to bury that they were overflowing. The gravestones were all askew and dirt-ridden, many more unmarked crosses overpopulating the area than those with names. The surrounding trees were decaying and brittle, the roots intertwining with the weeds and vines strewn all over.

“Do you want to help me find a open spot to bury the cat?” I asked Olivia, trying to hide the horror in my voice. Completely innocent and unaware of the scenery and what it means, she nodded excitedly, rushing off to find one. I called after her, suddenly afraid. “Wait, don’t run! You’ll fall!”

And fall she did.

I watched her foot get stuck in a particularly soft spot in the mud and her leg sank downwards. Unbalanced, she toppled over onto her back and I gasped in horror as a sharp twig stuck itself straight through her chest.

As if the pain hadn’t registered yet, Olivia blinked in shock, turning to me with a confused look on her face. “Uh...I think I’m hurt,” she coughed tearfully. I rushed over, abandoning the cat’s corpse to the side. Pulling her out, I took off my sweater to make a makeshift support around the object like I remembered in First Aid to keep it from moving. Cradling her in my arms, I screamed out into the empty hallways for help as Olivia fainted.

After some desperate attempts, David rushed down the hall with the girl who had used her glasses from the beginning of it all. “I figured it’s be helpful if I brought David. It looks like snakes don’t like to be around him.”

“Yeah, they seem to just run away from me whenever I walk towards them,” David affirmed, shrugging his shoulders.

“I figured he could protect you as you two find help for the girl.”

The last thing I remember afterwards is sitting in the hospital with a paling Olivia in my arms.

Additional Thoughts:

Oh my god this dream was so loaded that I’m surprised I remembered it all (although I did rush to record this the moment I woke up). Let’s go in order:

I’m not quite sure where the thought of aliens and UFOs came from but apparently they represent unfamiliarity and isolation in dealing with situations. Maybe the whole idea of being shipped to live on a dystopian island is about my feeling really alone these days when dealing with my stress and the insecurities I feel about myself.

The people that appeared in my dream don’t represent anyone in my life, so I’m not sure where they came from either. My suspicion is that they’re physical formations of what I want in my life: a young child that looks up to me and depends on me, a brother-like figure that I can depend on, and a love interest that deeply cares for me and my well-being.

The book I saw could mean my search for knowledge considering the only thing I’ve been doing these days is study for this test. And judging by the chapters in the book, I’m assuming its foretelling has to do with how this test is part of my future and it’s yet to be seen how it’s going to contribute.

I know the horse-shaped water is from what I’ve seen from Frozen 2 (lol) but the Pegasus is definitely new. What was interesting is that my dream me already met with this creature prior to this encounter. I know sometimes my separate dreams bleed into each other with the plot but I can’t remember ever dreaming about a Pegasus before...unless I have and just forgot. Either way, Pegasus apparently represents agility and swiftness, while a “talking horse” is supposed to represent a form of higher knowledge that is trying to convey some sort of message to me from my subconsciousness. Since the colour is supposed to represent something, I wonder if the fact that it was pink and required my blood to heal means something. Maybe it’s a part of me that I need to take care of more?

As for the darker half of my dream involving the snake and the cat’s death, the snake is supposed to mean a sense of fear and worry (which makes sense) and the symbol of a cat dying could represent a loss of individuality and lack of independence. With this combined together, I suppose this could, again, relay back to my test and my worries about it controlling my life and how I’m not able to do the things I want when it’s in my life. The blood everyone and my cries for help for Olivia are also symbols that apparently represent my emotional cry for help as I struggle. Watching her being impaled straight through the chest could mean a burst of emotion as well.

[if-only-angels-could-prevail]

write more about the aia you saw and the actors

fuck

so the production was excellent. that’s the word i’d use, not perfect, not mind-blowing, not even first-rate, but like, super, super good, very professional, very slick, very tight ensemble work, wonderful performers. the thing with actor’s theatre louisville is they have a lot of money, and i feel like they had to appeal to a wide audience of subscribers, so they really played up the humor (and there IS a LOT of humor in angels) and made the lines LAND, sometimes as if they were harvey fierstein one-liners. i liked hearing it like this, say, 75% of the time. but in other places, i felt like this land-the-joke direction robbed the text of its sincerity. for example, the line about “the white cracker who wrote the national anthem…” got a big laugh? which i’d never seen before? i think that line is so devastating? but it’s a sassy gay black man* being like “white people, am i right?” toward a white audience so i feel like the general reaction was like, white liberal self-awareness or something. idk. i was surprised at the laughter. 

*i don’t mean to diminish the actor’s fantastic performance, which i’ll get into later. belize is obviously so much more than a sassy gay black man. but he is still a sassy gay black man, and i suspect that unfortunately, some of the audience didn’t allow themselves to see past that stereotype.

wait, okay, you must understand the state i was in, seeing this play. the night before i had gotten super drunk, made out with a stranger at a club, and then gone to bed at 4 am. i unfortunately and unintentionally woke up at 8 am because i was staying in one of those apartments where the sun comes up RIGHT in the window and there were no curtains and i could not get back to sleep. so i had a cup of coffee in the morning, and then by the time the first intermission happened, it wore off, so during the dinner break i got a gigantic espresso drink (blackberry and something? it was fucking amazing) and chugged the whole goddamn thing with my salad and poutine fries. point is, i was really pushing my body to the breaking point, which made this whole experience extra emotional.

okay. i cried four times in the first half. the exchange “let go of my arm, “no,” let go,” “no” makes me sob every single goddamn time, i find that to be consistently the most heartbreaking moment of the show. 

other moments were “i want louis, i want my fucking boyfriend, where the fuck is he?” 

i think another one was “deep inside you, there’s a part of you, the most inner part, entirely free of disease” 

and the other moment that BROKE me was louis rising up from the ground in a tux and then him and prior dancing to moon river. i feel like i was prepared for the moment, i knew it was coming, but as soon as louis rose up i heard a few girls be like “awwww,” it was clearly their first time seeing it, and it just completely fucking broke me

i only cried once in perestroika. and like the “let go of my arm” exchange, it’s the part that always breaks me: “we won’t die secret deaths anymore.” i can watch most of the last scene and be totally fine but that last line always does me in. i can’t even talk about it without getting choked up.

gosh, okay, individual performances i guess?

barbara walsh was exactly as fantastic as i suspected and hoped she would be. 

i always worry that i can’t get past al pacino’s amazing performance as roy cohn but then nathan lane proved me wrong and then this actor also proved me wrong. 

belize was the STRONGEST belize i’ve ever seen. you do not. want. to. fuck. with. this. belize. part of it was his body, i think, he was super tall and muscular and carried himself with weight, and he was so determined and confident. it’s easy to fall into sissy-boy cliches when playing belize, i think, and he went in the opposite direction. he was still SUPER gay though, of course. wouldn’t wanna lose that. brilliant choices, brilliant performance.

louis!!!! louis was SO SO SO smarmy, and borderline manic, and so fast-talking and energetic, and it was probably the most detestable louis i’ve ever seen but also the most goddamn fun to watch. he was so engaging for every single line (and it’s easy for me to lose interest during his coffee shop scene with belize, among other parts). bravo.

harper was amazing, i don’t really remember too many of her choices though? joe was fantastic too, probably the most understated in the cast, and less *sexy mormon* than i’d seen before. he looked the most like a real person you’d see and forget. the woman playing the angel was completely fabulous, had a bit of a hoarse voice which was probably from all the shouting she’s been doing in this play but it really worked.

who am i forgetting?

WOW I JUST CONSULTED THE PLAY TO SEE WHO I WAS FORGETTING AND IT’S LITERALLY PRIOR CAN’T BELIEVE MYSELF okay yeah prior was amazing. i do think he sold the humor in a more unexpected way than all the other actors? and frankly the final scene didn’t wreck me as much as i’d hoped (until that one line), i think because he kept changing his inflection as a way to keep the audience engaged and not fall into monotone? again, playing toward the masses, occasionally to the detriment of the beauty in the text. also there was no underscore in the last scene which i felt was weird.

the music! there was original music, i liked it, but not as much as i liked the music in the columbus production i saw. miniseries music > short north stage in columbus music > actor’s theatre louisville music > national theatre music.

one more thing that struck me as odd and then i have to take a shower and get ready for this punk show i’m seeing tonight okay. so the tell me more about justice/trooper of the month scene between louis and prior in bed has always been a somewhat sexually charged scene to me. it gets sad, of course, but the sexual undercurrent has always sort of emphasized the tragedy for me? i could get more into it but i won’t now, point is, they were wearing pajamas. i thought it was weird that they weren’t in their underwear. i think it diminished the impact of the scene and also do gay male adults actually lay in bed wearing pajamas??? i don’t believe that

and that choice was even WEIRDER when act two started, the scene where prior is crawling on the floor, it’s supposed to be viscerally horrifying, right? but he was stripped down to his white briefs, and it was the first time the audience saw him in his underwear, and he was completely fucking ripped and hot as hell, and i was like this is completely the wrong time to notice how sexy he is lol? i think it was a bad choice.

OH i already said “one more thing” but the angel crashing through the roof was fucking amazing. so like, dracula, the show they do every october for the past 22 years? i saw it, it was fantastic, and it was all the spooky smoke and mirrors and lights and flying and just super fun immersive high tech experience it has the reputation for and i thought it was thrilling. and this production used a lot of the same technical magic, especially when the angel crashed through the roof, she actually CRASHED and bits of the roof fell on the stage and i was fucking thrilled, it was equivalent to seeing the chandelier fall in phantom of the opera, but obviously with more meaning.

i’m not going to edit this post, i have to go do shit. but it was amazing. can’t wait to see a third and fourth and fifth production of this play.

[the-sinnamon-roll-writes]

Day one! I chose the haunted house theme. There’s some fake gore mentioned, but nothing too incredibly graphic.

Still, he had a hard time saying no to Victor, and when Victor offered to pay for them both, Yuri really didn’t see a reason to turn him down. They went on a Saturday night, and the line to get in was massively long. It did appear to be moving steadily though, and Yuri snuck off to get some hot chocolate while Victor held their place. It was actually nice, being out in the cool autumn air, huddled together and sipping their warm drinks. It only took around ten minutes to reach the front of the line and buy their tickets and another five minutes to make it into the house.

Inside was dark with fake cobwebs strung alone the ceiling and in corners. Creaks and groans filled the air, creating an unsettling aura. As stereotypical as it was, Yuri had to admit that being there was sort of creepy. As they walked, the corridor turned right and revealed a flashing red light. The noises transformed into an alarm, softly at first, but growing louder with each step they took. The hall seemed to get thinner, and they could see shadows moving slowly in front of them. They started to slow down unintentionally, Yuri wincing as Victor clutched his arm tightly.

“Victor, we haven’t even run into anything scary yet, you can let go of me,” Yuri whispered. His voice didn’t really travel far, and he was wondering if Victor would even had him.

“I wish that were true,” Victor hissed back. He maintained his grip on Yuri’s arm and continued to walk towards the figures.

Sighing, Yuri didn’t offer a fight. He knew Victor woundn’t relent. If he hadn’t the first time, then he would stick to his decision to the end. He was so stubborn like that. A bit annoying, but Yuri did have to admit he admired the way-

His train of thought was interrupted when a young girl in a white nightgown suddenly stepped right out in front of them, seemingly from out of nowhere. They both jumped, and Victor’s hands somehow tightened even more on Yuri’s arm.

“Are you here to help me?” the girl asked, stepping forward with a huge, disturbing smile on her face. Her voice was unexpectedly high and innocent. Makeup on her face and neck made her appear nearly as white as the gown. The flashing red lights ever so slightly distorted their vision and transformed the girl’s white appearance into an unnerving blood-red with its every rotation. “Are you here to help me?”

Her voice was louder this time and much more aggressive. Aggressive enough that Yuri flattened himself against the opposite wal she had come from and started dragging Victor further along the wall around the girl. She turned as she watched them go by, and both Yuri and Victor sped forward and tried to ignore her.

Thankfully, she let them continue on. Unfortunately, they found themselves in the next part of the tour. It was a dimly lit room designed to look like some twisted laboratory. All the props were tipped over, some with deep gouge marks. The sirens were loudest here, and the flashing red line was positioned on the wall right over where they were walking. Listening closely, Yuri could have sworn he heard voices and cackles underneath the loud noise of the siren.

They didn’t even notice the next haunt until Victor glanced behind himself anxiously. It was a man wearing a tattered, blood-stained hospital gown and a bandage around himself. He was shuffling toward them slowly at first, but when Victor caught sight of him he began to charge at them. Before Yuri could even react to the guttural yell and the screech that came out of Victor, he felt himself being jerked around and dragged in front of Victor.

It only took him a second to register the mental patient closing in on him, and one more second for him to try to jump behind Victor. He misjudged the distance, however, and he would up clipping Victor’s shoulder hard enough to knock them both down to the ground. They both had their eyes screwed shut and were screaming as the haunt continued to run towards them with a bellow of his own.

Just as it sounded like he was right in front of them, the footsteps and yelling stopped. Yuri opened just one eye to peek at their surroundings. The man was nowhere in sight. Although Yuri had no clue how he had disappeared, he was still grateful that he was gone.

“Victor, he’s gone,” Yuri said, shaking Victor’s shoulders gently while he stood up.

Looking up and seeing that it was true, Victor rose up to stand beside Yuri.

Only to be met with a scowl. “What?”

“Did you really just try and push me in between you and some crazy murderer thing?”

“You tried to too! Then you knocked us both down at the same time! If you hadn’t done that, then at least one of us would have survived. Your way we both would’ve died.”

“It was fake! Neither of us would’ve died!”

“Well, when it is a real killer, I hope you remember this. We don’t both have to die, just you.”

The ghost of a smile on Victor’s face let Yuri know he was just joking. Rolling his eyes, Yuri took Victor’s hand again and started to walk forwards. “Alright then scardy cat, let’s keep on going. Now we know what to expect, the rest won’t be so scary.”

•••

Yuri hadn’t expected half of what he had just went through. His hand was clamped hard with Victor’s, and he had a suspicion that neither of them would be letting go anytime soon.

“I don’t think you could have been more wrong,” Victor finally stated. They were both thinking it. “It just kept getting worse. That contortionist? I’ll never un-see that.”

Letting out an anxious chuckle, Yuri nodded in agreement. “Yeah, people shouldn’t be able to bend like that. That was... way worse than I was expecting. I didn’t think they would put that much work into it, but they really went above and beyond. To be honest, I was picturing something more for kids when you bought it up,” Yuri said. “That whole thing was R-rated.”

“Well, what’s the point in a haunted house if you don’t get scared? Otherwise it’s a bad haunted house. It was fun, mostly.” Victor seemed to grow calmer and more confident as they walked. “What are we doing now?”

“Let’s just walk home. I’m pretty tired.”

“Alright! We should stop and get another warm drink. It’s chilly out.”

They did just that, Victor ordering some hot cider and Yuri getting another hot chocolate. Once they each had their respective drinks, they linked arms so that they were touching, but also able to clutch their warm cups with both hands.

It was a quiet walk home. They both just sipped their drinks and enjoyed being together silently. There was no need for words. Occasionally one of them would mention something about the house they had just been to, wondering what they might make for a late dinner, and other sorts of light small talk here and there.

When they arrived home, the clocks all read 10:37. Nearing the witching hour, Yuri noted. He wasn’t entirely sure what made him think that, but he tried to put it out from his mind. He was home, safe and sound. No point in being anxious. Still, Yuri found himself hurrying through his nighttime routine to try and get to bed quicker. Skipping a shower, he simply changed into pajamas and turned off all the lights and hurried to bed. Victor was already under the blankets, wriggling around to get comfortable.

Yuri sat down and clicked off the bedside lamp before laying down. He found it hard to get comfortable himself, and for a solid three minutes both he and Victor shifted and squirmed, and the creaking springs might have given someone outside of the room the wrong idea. Normally they kept a small space in between them at night to keep from getting too hot, but tonight they found themselves huddled together. Victor pressed his forehead against the back of Yuri’s neck. His arm came to rest across Yuri’s waist, and Yuri twined his fingers with Victor’s.

After they fell still, the silence that followed was unnerving. Another five minutes passed before it became too much for Victor. “How do you think they did that belly slicing thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was a costume with a fake stomach. I just can’t get the asylum part out of my head. The people lurching at us, the blood everywhere. It was so scary.”

“That guy who dragged himself behind us? He had some amazing makeup on. The claw marks across his face look so real.” Victor kept his voice low in an attempt to maintain a calm demeanor.

“Oh yeah, the amount of effort that went into making it so realistic was really amazing. The girl with an axe in her head was just plain impressive. I wonder how long it took them to put it together.” Yuri could feel a nod behind his back. “We should probably call it a night. Try and get some rest.”

“You’re right,” Victor agreed. “A good nights sleep will do us some good.”

“Mhm. Well, good night Victor.”

“Good night Yuri.”

And with that, they closed their eyes to drift off the sleep.

•••

Neither of them slept very well. They only got about five hours of sleep each, enough to run on but not quite enough to fully enjoy the morning. Before Victor started breakfast, he turned on their tv and went to the news channel, leaving it on for background noise. As he was pouring milk onto his cereal, he heard something that made his heart skip a beat.

Early this morning 8 missing people were found dead in a haunted house. The victims, ages six to thirty-three, all showed signs of being tortured before being killed. Their time of death is estimated to be around seven-thirty. The police currently have no leads, and encourage people to come forward with any clues they might have.

Victor felt lightheaded as he stared at the screen. As pictures of the deceased began to show on the tv, his eyes widened, and a shiver went down his spine. “Yuri! Yuri, come here!”

The urgency he felt in his chest apparently made itself clear when Yuri came running to him. “What?”

Without saying anything, Victor raised a hand and pointed at the screen. Yuri followed his finger, and his blood went cold as he registered what it was that was frightening Victor so much.

There on the screen, in complete detail, was the young girl with the white gown and pale skin.

“Are you here to help me?”

[x-men-x-imagines]

Imagine #4 Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier - Part 3 (Request)

Requested by @lostamongstthecosmos: Writing is clearly a talent of yours because once again here I am asking for the continuation of the same imagine! 😂 As long as you feel up for it of course. I've read your other work and I just want more Erik stories

Also requested by @lostamongstthecosmos :D: Erik is trying to hold readers hand but gets nervous each time so doesn't go through with it. One day reader is wearing a metal ring & Erik unintentionally pulls her hand closer. Or you can make it Erik lowkey likes her but has yet to show any signs, then the accidental hand holding ensues. Whichever :)

And kinda by @mm277me

Not my gif

Words: 1302

Warnings: Typos, fem!reader

Part 1  Part 2

You heard a knock on your door and turned around in your office chair, but before you could even say a word, the door opened.

“You know, the point of knocking is waiting to be invited in.”, you explained to Erik, who didn’t seem all too bothered by his faux-pas. “Do you still wanna get that coffee?”, he asked and strolled towards you confidently. You took your time to reply. You didn’t really understand him, not even after having lived under the same roof with him for months, you couldn’t see through his mask. It bothered you a lot and your mutation could only show you so much about a person. You weren’t a telepath after all.

“Yeah, sure.”, you finally replied, being rewarded with Erik’s indefinable kind-of-smile, that seemed to be his alternative to actually looking happy.

You walked down the halls side by side, each waiting for the other to break the silence. Well, you were waiting, Erik was just not saying anything. “How’s the professor doing? He seemed to be really worried earlier.”, you asked as your mind wandered to the meeting in Charles’ office earlier that day. Erik had wanted to talk to him in private.

“Can you blame him? He feels responsible for the danger that you’ve been put in.”, Erik responded and you tried to read in his eyes, if there was something he wasn’t telling you. You always felt like there was with Erik.

“It’s not his fault. I came here, he was just trying to help. He did the most amazing thing, letting me stay here, letting me become a teacher. He has nothing to feel guilty for.” Your voice was filled with admiration and you didn’t try to hide it.

“Honestly, I’m surprised that you’re holding up this well. It is a hit list after all. Something like that doesn’t happen every day.”

You laughed out loud. “I sure as hell hope not!” Silence followed. There was a coffee machine in the library, which was obviously the one Erik was headed to, as he opened doors for you and led you through corridors. You glanced at him from the side, observing the way he moved, the way his eyes seemed to scan everything around him, almost automatically, out of habit. He was very handsome, you thought and immediately blushed, before realizing that you weren’t with Charles and that Erik luckily couldn’t read your mind. Seriously though, you continued, he had always been good looking. Irritatingly good looking in a grumpy, dark-under-eye-circles kind of way. You had had quite a crush on him when he had first moved to your neighbourhood all those years ago. Something about the way he clearly wasn’t looking for a relationship made you want to have him. Probably the most stereotypical reason there is, but you didn’t realize that at the time. And you had never approached him in any way that could not be defined as ‘nice girl next door’. You hadn’t regretted that for a second, after he had simply left one day, disappearing without notice, without saying goodbye. You had been completely over him, or that’s what you had told yourself. Your current train of thought however let you question that impression.

“Milk and two sugars.”, Erik said, snapping you out of your own little world. You stared at him in surprise. “You actually remembered how I take my coffee?” “Yes, but don’t praise me just yet, I saw you making coffee last week, that’s how I know.” You laughed. “You know, I was seriously impressed for a second and then you blew it.” You took the mug out of Erik’s hand and walked towards a table near the window. “Can’t win them all.”, Erik murmured.

“So the hit list.”, you got back to the topic, that was bothering you the most at the moment and started playing with the ring on your left middle finger. It was old, you had bought it about seven years ago for a rather low price, and one could tell by the used-looking material, but it was your favourite ring and it was the first piece of jewellery you had bought with your own money, just after you had gotten your first job. You liked to call it vintage, because of the rusty exterior. “Has something like that ever happened before?”

“Not like this. There have always been people, who knew about us, who were trying to catch or kill mutants. But now, with the mutant community out in the open, the number of people, who see us as a threat, has increased drastically. Before that, there weren’t even enough people, who could have cared about a list like that. Three teenagers on bikes chasing after conspiracies wouldn’t have been a problem for us. Three thousand people however, who now know our identities, our mutations, our location, might be slightly more of a problem.”

“Slightly.”, you repeated sarcastically and then added: “So they know about our mutations as well?” “Seems like it.” “No surprise advantage for us then.” You felt Erik’s eyes on you and looked up to meet his gaze.

“Are you already working on a battle strategy?” The idea seemed to amuse him and you couldn’t help but giggle into your coffee. “You always used to laugh like that.”, he added and you immediately stopped laughing. It took you a moment to understand. “I haven’t heard you laugh like this, ever since you got here.”

“Uh, really?” You weren’t surprised that you had changed, more that Erik seemed to have noticed. “I mean, I guess. Some things change.” “Some things don’t”, Erik added and suddenly you felt like you were falling into his eyes, like you would never be able to look away again. But he did and his eyes fell on the ring that you were still frantically playing with. Now that you were able to focus on your own thoughts again, you were suddenly reminded of your everyday duties, as a few of your students entered the library and you remembered their exams, that had to be graded by tomorrow.

“Damn, I forgot to correct my students exams.”, you explained to Erik, as you got up quickly, partially because you really needed to get this done, but also because the silence that had been lingering between the two of you, had gotten way more intense than you had been prepared for. “You’re lucky, you’re not a teacher here.”, you joked to ease the tension. “But seriously, what the hell are you even doing here?”

“I think, Charles is keeping me here to stop me from trying to kill the president again.”, he replied with the most serious expression. “Yeah, I heard about that.”, you murmured, as Erik held the door open for you. “Even outside the mutant community, people know about that stunt of yours. You’re famous.”

“Well, aren’t I a lucky one?” “I mean, I wouldn’t have expected you to go and attack the president, when you first moved in next door, you know?”, you explained, as you felt an unusual pull on your left hand and looked down, just I time to see Erik entwine his fingers with yours. “To kill someone, yeah, but the president?”, you added, trying to hide the surprised tension, that had gotten hold of you. It felt good, you thought, holding his hand. You had never done that before. His hand was warm, not soft, but not too rough either. You felt like you could have been able to identify his hand amongst thousands. And you were painfully aware of your suddenly racing heart.

It was funny, you thought and smiled nervously, you wouldn’t have taken him for the hand-holding-type. “Well, we can’t all be Mother Theresa.”, Erik murmured next to you. “I will take that as a compliment.”

[booksbroadwaybbc]

Why the world needs you via /r/selfimprovement

Why the world needs you

"But I am just a nobody..."

How many times have you had those thoughts?

The thoughts that come in right after you have had an audacious goal, an incredible dream, or a world-changing idea that sounds almost too crazy and insane when uttered out loud...

How many times have you stopped yourself from going after what you want, because your fear and doubt tells you that you don't stand a chance?

As an extremely private person by nature, I never had much of an urge to share my stories or experiences.

And until very recently, I didn't think I was ever going to share this story publicly.

But in a world where people are becoming increasingly apathetic to suffering, I feel compelled to share my story, in the hopes that it will inspire you to find the hero within yourself.

I believe that every single one of us, should we choose to, can invoke a powerful spirit within us to transform our lives and help make the world a better place.

So here we go...

Over 4 years ago, while I was traveling in the Netherlands, I met a girl. She was 22 and I was 25.

She was unlike anyone else I had ever met. She had strange, peculiar interests in seemingly-polarizing things.

On one hand, she was deeply fascinated with the occult, she possessed objects like the skulls of animals, a model replica of a human skull, and many other odd symbols of darkness.

On the other hand, she had a strong love for symbols of innocence, such as collecting stuffed toys (rather seriously) and wearing onesies. The many books that she had indicated she loved art, and that she had a very acute visual sense.

She was very gentle and often displayed deep compassion for those who had been marginalized by society.

It soon became clear to me that despite being 3 years younger than me, this girl possessed a deep wisdom about life that I could not yet understand.

Even though she was quiet, reserved, and extremely guarded with her feelings, I was immediately captivated by her mysterious sense of self-expression...

She bluntly rejected me multiple times after I told her I was interested in her romantically.

She listed out all the practical reasons why she wouldn't date me. I was a foreigner (she didn't want any long-distance relationships), I was a regular pot smoker, and I was too much of a "cool guy" (as I would later find out, what she really meant was that I acted too much like a stereotypical douchebag).

It was quite painful the way she rejected me, but still, I wanted to continue seeing her.

So a platonic friendship ensued.

It wasn't long before I noticed the self-inflicted scars on the inside of her arms.

When I did, I held her arm out, ran my fingers over her scars and simply asked, "Why?"

She yanked her arm away and looked away quickly, sharply stating, "I was diagnosed with PTSD."

Sensing her reluctance to reveal anymore, I didn't probe any further.

We continued to meet. Our relationship progressed... We got closer.

One evening, after hours of talking, we slept together.

She continued noting her reluctance to be with me... But she never stopped meeting me.

Pretty soon, I was spending every single day with her in her tiny one bedroom apartment. I extended my stay in the Netherlands to 3 months and for the last 2 months, I stayed at her place.

One day, during a seemingly innocuous conversation, we started talking about the future...

As she started talking about her future, I noticed a deep anxiety setting in...

She started talking about the obstacles in her way and her anxiety started to get even worse. Tears started to form in her eyes as she curled into a ball and hugged herself.

Not knowing what to do, I tried to convince her that her fears were unfounded, but that did nothing.

The expression on her face started to turn into a look of sheer despair. Her eyes gazed past me into the distance as she started crying, her nails digging deep into the side of her arms. She had become so entrenched in a state of absolute fear that nothing I said or did would even get acknowledged.

Desperate to ease her pain but clueless on what to do, I hugged her close and held her tight, repeatedly whispering to her, "It's going to be okay..."

Never had I felt so utterly helpless in my life.

In what felt like years, minutes passed...

She starts getting calmer, and she eventually apologized for "freaking out".

I would later discover pieces of her dark history.

She was originally born in Poland. When she was 3, she was left under the care of her grandfather.

Instead of caring for her and protecting her like he had promised, he sexually abused her for months in secret. He told her that if she told anyone, they would think that it was her fault and hate her for it. Ashamed and afraid, her 3-year-old mind suppressed the memory... Her once bright and exciting world turned dark and frightening.

Her parents divorced several years later, and she was left to live with her father and her sister in Poland.

As her father struggles to cope with the stress of the divorce, he started losing control over himself in fits of rage and would viciously beat her sister. She recounted an incident where she became so afraid he was going to kill her sister that she stepped in to defend her sister during a beating. Fortunately, that act of courage snapped him out of his rage and made him stop. She was 10 at the time.

She eventually leaves with her sister to go live with her mother in the Netherlands.

As the small, strange, foreign and quiet girl who barely speaks the local language, she quickly became an easy target for bullying. School was a nightmare. They threw food at her, called her names, and played pranks on her on a daily basis.

One day, as she was walking home from school, two girls whom she never met pushed her down an escalator and started beating her up. When they eventually left, she picked herself up and went home.

But that incident had made her terrified of going out, and she fell into a state of deep depression. Eventually, she decided that she finally had enough... and attempted to kill herself by slitting her own wrist.

Her attempt failed and her mother admitted her into a mental hospital for rehabilitation.

She was 16. It was during this time in the mental ward where she finally experienced some reprieve. With the help of a psychologist, now 13 years later, memories of her childhood abuse resurfaced and she was finally able to start healing from that wound.

She was also diagnosed as a high-functioning autistic, which helped her understand why she behaved so differently from others. A year later, the mental hospital was forced to release her due to financial constraints.

Not wanting to return home, she got a small job in conjunction with a student loan and rented a tiny room in a shared apartment.

Shortly after, she befriended a man. He was sweet to her at first and they eventually started dating. He took advantage of her vulnerability and gained her trust. But slowly, as their relationship progressed, he became more and more abusive. What started off as emotional manipulation became full-on beatings. He put out cigarettes on her, violated her, and even threatened to stab her while holding a knife.

She would eventually break free from his manipulative grip, but not after suffering emotional and physical scars.

Upon learning of her difficult past, I experienced a powerful mix of grief, anger, and admiration...

As our relationship deepened, I wanted nothing more than to help her see a brighter future. If I could give her hope, that would mean more to me than anything else I had ever done in my life.

The first thing I did was move to the Netherlands to be with her. The process wasn't easy, but I managed to do it in 3 months. We have lived together ever since.

She had always wanted to visit Japan, Disneyland, and a whole bunch of other places, but never had the chance due to her financial circumstances.

At the time when I met her, I was a struggling digital marketer who had just dropped out of college in pursuit of the "internet lifestyle". My income fluctuated tremendously, some months I made a few thousand, some months I made nothing. It was nothing to brag about and definitely not enough to travel and live indiscriminately. So if you have ever been led to believe that particular endeavor is easy... Trust me, it is not.

But, the one thing that it does give you is the freedom and ability to decide just how far you want to take things.

And now I had a powerful reason beyond myself to do whatever is necessary to create a thriving business.

It took a little over a year before things started to take off...

We moved out of our crappy apartment, went to Disneyland in Paris, stayed in Japan for 1 month, and went out on many other adventures.

She had always been fascinated with Chow Chows (a rare dog breed) but she was afraid of dogs because of a biting incident when she was a child.

So together, we tracked the breed down... It took about 18 months and living in Poland for 1 month before we were finally able to get the puppy... But we eventually did and he's part of our little family now.

Slowly but surely, I witnessed how the powerful light of hope transformed her outlook on life... The bouts of despair occurred significantly less frequently... She had less anxiety and she started engaging her interests more actively...

Now, I definitely do not dare claim responsibility for any of that. She was the one who had to go through the fight. And I have not always been supportive... I have made many horrible mistakes, hurt her both intentionally and unintentionally... But having been able to take part in her healing process has meant more to me than anything else.

There's a lot more that I wanted to share, such as how my rage almost destroyed everything and how I met a true warrior who transformed my perspective, but I think this story has gone on for too long...

My point is this...

In a world of ever-increasing apathy, there has never been a time more critical than now that we look inwards upon ourselves to find powerful reasons to do what is right in this world... For there are far too many monsters out there who are looking to exploit the vulnerable.

One of my favorite quotes is from a man named Edmund Burke, who once famously stated, "All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."

You may not be able to think of yourself as a hero in the grand sense. But everyone has the capacity to be the hero in their own story... For it is not only through a journey of service that we will create a better world, but its also where we will find meaning and transform ourselves into happier, stronger, and more fulfilled individuals.

Shift your focus to those who need you. Be willing to bear the burden of their suffering, so that you may look past your own insecurities in service of a greater good.

When I say the world needs you, I am being sincere and truthful. The world truly does need you.

Submitted October 14, 2018 at 08:58AM by th_danche via reddit https://ift.tt/2IVHcOA