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alpydk · 2 months

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Gone with the Weave

Took a few days off to think. Seriously considered deleting everything, Tumblr, all of it. Realised I'd become a little lost in my writing, getting jealous over other people, insecure about my own abilities, forgot who I was writing for and why. So today I sat down and actually wrote for me again and you know what? It's helped. And because I'm hypocritical I'm going to share it with all of you.

So, here we have post-Epilogue short. Hurt/Little comfort. Gale/Tav - Tav & Astarion - Word count : 2398 -

CW - PPD / Grief / Death / Dad!Gale / Scenes of child death (Hallucinations)

It was like tar. It pulled her down and filled her lungs, thick and black. Tav tried to fight against it, tried to find the light that she knew shone above it, but her limbs were weighted down by fatigue and longing. A part of her wanted to be dragged down by it, to be lost to the depths of her depression, to disappear and no longer have the responsibility that had been thrusted upon her. To sleep and never wake; to be with him.

To everyone around her, she was a natural mother, tending to her baby’s needs, a confident smile at the life she had brought into the world. Tav was proud, strong, had been through the hells and back, figuratively and literally, and survived unscathed. But as with most, her pride was becoming her downfall. She didn’t need help, didn’t want it because weakness was not the sign of a good mother. As the days passed, as sleep turned to hallucination, still she clung onto the mask of what they all wanted to see, the last remnant of a life before life.

The child cried, but she did not react instantly, a quiet hope that someone else would come and tend to its needs whilst she pretended to sleep. But she didn’t sleep. For so long, the gods of dream and nightmare alike had ignored her pleas, and she had lain there awake, watching as the infant took all from her, leaving her with nothing but guilt and misery.

She wished he was there to help her, that his weave touched fingers that brought calm to her soul could calm the one that lay in the crib. He should have been there for this, she told herself, his strong forearms cradling the baby, a soft poem uttered under starlight bringing it to soothe. If only she had known before the final decision was made; if only things had ended differently and he had stayed, then maybe there would be fewer tears shed.

Still it cried, and no one came, the silence broken by the shrieks she had come to despise. It would be so easy to just leave, to walk out and never return, but then they would all know what she was truly like. The tar that had filled her lungs and surrounded her heart, leaving her bitter and tainted, would be exposed and they would know the truth. They would hate her as she hated the innocent child in front of her. But what if…? The thought was fleeting, cruel and unspeakable, a horror even in her own twisted mind. As night turned to the day, as cries turned to coos, she watched the baby, always watching and waiting for something to change.

---

Evening had set in and though the stars shone brightly as he had promised her, the night brought Tav little comfort knowing the long, drawn-out hours that were to come. She carried the baby to the small tub, her body weary and mind wandering, and she placed it in the water, watching as the bubbles rose quickly from its soft lips, as the arms tensed and held out towards her, as the deep brown eyes she had once loved lost their light again.

A knock at the door brought her around to her senses as she sat in front of the empty tub, the baby cooing peacefully from its bassinet. This had not been the first time she had seen such sights in the weeks since the birth. At first, it had been minor things, a shadow in the room that she had mistaken for a friend, the child crying whilst it actually slept. Soon the images became darker, the newborn lifeless in her arms when she awoke suddenly during the night, a slight misstep causing her to drop it to the floor, its body like that of a rag doll as it hit the wooden floorboards. Nothing scared her more though than herself, her lack of reaction, the quiet pleasure she saw in the freedom being granted to her. Would murder or suicide be the more publicly acceptable option? Would they forgive her? Could he forgive her, should she make that choice?

Tav rose from the floor, the image shaken away, and the mask put back in place. A deep breath was released before the door was answered with a smile and the face of Astarion greeted her. She was thankful it was him and not one of the more caring of the group; it would mean fewer questions asked, less concern over her wellbeing, and a chance that the walls would remain intact for another night.

He entered without invitation, many nights like this in the last six months that had thankfully grown less frequent since the birth. “You look like shit, darling.”

She smirked at his words, fully aware that the lack of sunlight was making her as pale as him, that the deep bags hung under her eyes. “Well, we can’t all match up to you, can we?”

Astarion made himself at home. Wine was grabbed from the cupboard and his feet put up on the coffee table. He noticed the baby but chose to ignore it, instead watching as Tav quickly sorted her hair in an attempt to look less haggard. “Resident do-gooder Wyll has asked me to come and check in on you.”

“And since when do you take orders from others?” She sat near him on the sofa, the faint stirring of the child drawing her attention. All she wanted was a moment like the old times, of two friends chatting about something that wasn’t related to birth or parenting, of wine and shameless flirting that meant nothing.

He watched her, her eyes allowing him to see the cracks that lay so visibly. “Since, 1 – it’s my turn, and 2 – it’s been a year.”

Tav scoffed. “Taking turns? Is that what you all do?” She ignored his second remark, a year since the Netherbrain, since that day when everything was supposed to change for the better.

“Quite frankly, yes. It’s one thing to be holed up alone with seven thousand spawn, it’s another to be holed up alone with that…” Astarion gestured his hand dismissively to the infant.

She knew he was right, life would be better without it, she wouldn’t be alone here, needing to be checked up on as if she there were something wrong with her. “You know you don’t have to. We’re fine.” The lie slipped out as easily as it ever did, the painted-on smile meeting her dead eyes. The small cry made her bristle, made the lie falter, and she hoped it was nothing but that one whimper.

He sipped his wine, the quickening of her heart rate deceptive as it cut through the heavy silence. “Still, we should at least share in a drink, shouldn’t we? A remembrance of sorts.”

“No, that’s not needed.” Tav was quick to cut off this suggestion. It was one thing for the wall to crumble in front of him that she was tired of sleepless nights, another for the actual truth to be pushed upon her and the dam to break.

The cry could be heard again, now with little pause between breaths. She wanted to ignore it, wanted it to die down, wanted anyone else to deal with it. But no one else would come. He would not come. She could see Astarion tensing with the building noise, and she had to react to save face. She stood, approaching the bassinet, a brief flash of annoyance in her eyes as she glanced down and picked up the baby. It was as if it knew, was manipulating her and drawing her towards ruin, as if the gods were not satisfied enough with the sacrifices she had already made.

“Aww, you just want to see uncle Astarion, don’t you?” This was what people wanted, fawning over the infant, exaggerated displays of affection that she loathed to give. She carried the baby over, its cries stopping, and she gritted her teeth, knowing the moment she put it down, the noise would commence again.

“Oh, no, darling. It’s quite alright.” He pulled his legs off the table, a clear discomfort, and with it knocked over the bottle of wine.

The scarlet liquid spread across the wood, dripping quickly onto the floor, a lazy flow as it crept between the floorboards. Tav couldn’t take her eyes from it, the baby lying amongst it, the rag doll limbs amongst its own blood, lifeless brown eyes that stared back at her. Her heart didn’t beat, she stood not in panic, only a numbness lay in her mind at the sight.

Astarion grabbed a cloth and began to clear the wine, Tav seemingly frozen with the child in her arms, her mind a million realms away, a feeling he knew too well himself. “You know, they say white wine can clear out red…”

Her heart took a beat, a recollection of where she was, of the company present, and she hoped the vision she had seen had been instantaneous so as not to draw attention. The baby was thankfully silent, and she cursed herself for not feeling upset at the sights she was seeing. Murder or suicide…It would be so easy.

She sat with the baby in her arms, Astarion cupping the glass of wine as he leaned away from her on the sofa. She could see how uncomfortable he was becoming, as if looking for a conversation that was casual enough to fulfil his objective for checking in on her.

“So, Gale-“

“Is gone.” She interrupted him off before he could even start. This was not the topic she needed. He should be there with her, holding her through sleepless nights, soothing their child as it cried through the darkened hours. He should be sharing in her tears, her smiles, consoling her as she struggled with her doubts. The baby began to stir again, as if picking up on her emotions.

“Tav, it’s been a year and you’ve not spoken with anyone about what happened.”

She ignored him, his voice and the quiet cries already beginning to overwhelm her senses. There was nothing to talk about; there was only this lonely guilt filled existence. Days and nights of tar, of emptiness, of decisions she couldn’t bring herself to make. Hoping her mask wouldn’t slip, she rocked the baby in an attempt to calm it. She was a proud, strong mother. She was a good mother.

He sighed, not knowing if he should bother to help or not, but after all Tav had done for him in the past, he knew he had to do something. “Pass it here.”

She lifted her head, a defensive hold on the baby in her arms. Was it maternal love or the pride that prevented her from handing it over so freely? “No, I can handle this.”

Astarion reached over tentatively. The baby smelt odd, like spices he could not pinpoint, and his stomach turned slightly, but he would not accept what she was saying. He gently took it into his arms, Tav’s resistance minimal, as if her body was mutinying against her mind. The child grew quiet again, a small coo as its hand reached for his shirt and small pink fingers hooked around the cotton.

Tears built up instantly in Tav’s eyes, a guilt that she hadn’t been good enough to do this one simple thing, that she had failed in being a mother. She wanted to hide it all, wanted to run away, but she also wanted to fall apart so that people knew how deep she had fallen into the darkness and could come and save her, save her just as he had done so long ago. She wiped at her eyes, but it made little difference, the sight of her friend holding her baby, a light in his own eyes she had never seen before, a moment of innocence on the face of a seasoned killer. Why could she not feel that way? What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she love…?

Her words were quiet. Astarion wouldn't care, and she knew it wouldn’t faze him. He wouldn’t coddle her like the others would. He was what she needed now that all was lost. “I can’t handle this…”

---

The night passed in a blur. He listened as she spoke of all that had happened in the last few months, of the things she had seen, things she believed she wanted, of pride and guilt that filled her heart to bursting. She spoke of the loneliness that consumed her and the child she could not connect to, of how it reminded her of the past she wished to forget, a past she longed for desperately. One life had ended, and another had begun and all she had been left with was shadows.

The baby slept through for the first time in months, Astarion having settled it in its crib as she had managed an hour of sleep. She’d waited ages in silence, listening for the sudden interruption that never came. It was as if it knew of her confession, and she hated and loved it for what it had done.

In the early hours her friend left, the rising sun announcing his need to depart, and with it she saw the light between the grey clouds, a new day ready to start again. The child stirred, and she stepped towards the crib with hesitation. She saw the purple robes that had been draped lightly at the base where it slept, the subtle scent of the library lying amongst spices bringing calm to the bedroom, and she heard the sound of the waves on docks, brushed up with the morning gale. Picking up her baby gathered with the robes, she held them both closely, the tears building, the relief, the love for her child breaking through the walls she had built.

The guilt flowed, but it was not met with a resignation; it was met with the promise to do better, to be the mother she should’ve been, to be the woman he had once loved. The child gazed at her, bright eyed, and she saw Gale once again; for a brief moment he was with her. She was not alone. She would never be alone.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #bg3 astarion #bg3 angst

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danikamariewrites · 4 months

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Yay! So happy you’ll write for them! I have an Aidas request.The reader is Bryce’s friends and meets him through her. They are immediately drawn to each other and grow really close. The war is over and he has to go back to Hel. They are trying to figure out how they can still be together. It can be angsty/fluffy/smutty. Lol just whatever you are feeling.

Honestly I’d be happy with anything to do with him. 😂

Hel is Heaven With You

Aidas x reader

A/n: Hi anon, I love this idea and I think of Aidas and his love interest as Hades and Persephone. I might do another part for this if I can think of another story for these guys.

Warnings: none

With the Asteri gone and the war won all that was left to do was send the armies of darkness and nightmarish creatures back to Hel. Once the fighting was over Aidas had given you a choice. Come to Hel with him or stay with your friends.

The first time you met the Prince of Hel was in Bryce’s apartment. His clear blue eyes had captivated you, charming and flirting with you as he danced around giving Hunt and Bryce answers. You felt drawn to the prince since then. Every night you saw him in your dreams. He seemed so real, there were times when you would wake up and swore Aidas was in a dark corner of your room.

When the attack during the spring happened Aidas had checked on you, making sure you were safe. He got into the habit of staying with you for days at a time and eventually you fell for each other. Confessing your feelings was hard. With the both of you being from different worlds you didn’t know how a relationship would work.

It’s been two days since Aidas gave you the choice to come with him. You had spent your time weighing the pros and cons of the situation. You must admit it was enticing, the thought of going with him to Hel. You would miss your friends but Aidas had promised you could see them whenever you wished. Besides them there wasn’t much keeping you on Midgard. Your brother and parents, being the snobby fae they were, cut you off when you stood by Bryce’s side after Danika’s death.

It wasn’t a hard decision after all. Trudging through the harsh snow in Nena with the army of Hel you had your bag slung over your shoulder. You hadn’t told Aidas what you decided yet, deciding to second guess yourself on the trip back to the Northern Rift. But you had said your goodbyes. A lot were tearful, especially June. You swear Fury shed a tear, though she denied it.

You had waited to say bye to Bryce at the rift, not wanting to feel the pain for two goodbyes with your best friend.

As the army filed through the rift back to Hel you said your goodbyes to her and Hunt, promising to visit. When Aidas was the only one left you finally faced him. “Well?” He asked, raising a perfectly groomed blonde brow at you. You held out your hand for his in answer.

Aidas seemed shocked as he took it, smiling down at you. As he pulled you towards your future together Bryce called out, “Wait!” You and Aidas turn to face her. “Promise me something Aidas. Promise me you’ll take care of her.” Aidas bowed his head at the fae queen. “I swear on my life, Bryce Quinlan, that y/n will never have a need or want that isn’t met.” Aidas raises your gloved hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the outline of your knuckles.

Bryce nods, the corner of her mouth tugging into a smirk as she says, “I’ll come kick your ass if I find out otherwise.” Stepping through the rift you both look at Bryce and Hunt one last time. “I’m counting on it.” The Prince replies before Bryce seals the rift.

——

Hel is not like you thought it would be. Bryce had told you what it was like after the Caves. But this was different.

Aidas’s kingdom was always in a state of dusk and darkness. His castle wasn’t what you thought either. You expected a fairytale version of a gothic castle with tall black spires, all open air windows and breezeways, floating on a ripped piece of earth among the clouds.

It was nothing like that at all. His home was more of an estate, surrounded by a tall, black wrought iron fence, the grounds covered in hedges and stone statues of his and his brother’s creations. The three story manor itself was black, gray stone moldings decorating the peaks and windows.

The interior was just as hauntingly beautiful as the exterior. Black, white, and red were the main colors decorating the house. Thick velvet curtains guarded the windows. Intricately carved wood made up the walls and bannisters, making the home feel alive. Pulling off your gloves you ran your hands across the ridges.

Aidas slipped your bag from your shoulder, waving his hand it disappeared into thin air. Aidas stepped closer to you, gazing into your eyes as he peels off your layers of winter wear. Handing over your stuff to a butler you didn’t even see approach.

“Come, my heart. I want to show you your new home.” You smile up at him, twining your fingers together again as he leads you through the house.

Aidas left you to get aquanted in your new room, which happened to be his room. You spent your time unpack what little you brought with you, finding Aidas left you plenty of room. He had a new dresser built for you along with a matching vanity. The prince also split his closet in half. When he told you that you were confused as to when you would fill it, is there even a mall on this plane of existence?

Finally curious about how much space you have to fill you pull open the ornate, wooden double doors. As the First Light comes on you gasp. You didn't need to fill the closet, it was already filled for you. Gowns and dresses on velvet hangers, shoes and slippers across racks, along with your clothes from home all neatly folded on the shelves above them.

You gape at the expensive fabrics, running your fingers across the garments in wonder. Knowing Aidas went out of his way to make sure you were clothed and well looked after had tears pricking your eyes.

No one had ever cared for you the way Aidas did. Not even your parents had paid this much attention to you.

Blinking away your impending tears, Aidas clears his throat behind you. Turning, you find the Prince of the Chasm casually draped against the door frame. “Is everything to your liking, my heart?” You smile brightly at him. “It’s perfect. And it’s more than I could ever ask for, thank you, Aidas.”

Aidas pushed off the door frame, striding over to you. The prince towers over you as he looks down at you. Bringing his pale, slender hands up to hold your face Aidas presses a kiss to your forehead. “I told you, my heart, you will never have to want again.”

#crescent city #aidas crescent city #crescent city fic #crescent city fanfic #crescent city fanfiction #crescent city x reader #crescent city x you #crescent city house of earth and blood #crescent city fluff #Prince Aidas crescent city #Aidas x reader #aidas x you #aidas crescent city x reader #aidas crescent city x you

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dulcewrites · 1 year

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Seek and Destroy

Summary: Alicent swears she is not naturally a cruel person. Any semblances of cunning or coldness has been taught, slowly and surely. A gift bestowed to her from the age of ten and five. Something she was weened onto like a babe that suckles for milk from its mother. She has learned at the feet at the best - or maybe the worst. King’s Landing has fallen to Rhaenyra. Her children are scattered around the realm. Lives have been lost already. Alicent’s heart has finally callused. Nothing left but a shell and the venom that seeps out of it.

A/N: This is just something I have been working on. It is not finished obvi. I don’t know if I will expand on it. If I do I will probably post it to ao3

Her father’s blood had splattered into her mouth when she cried out. At first, Alicent did not want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her body shake in worry. Bones rattling together under neath sheathed of silk. Green silks. Or let them take glee in seeing fear in her eyes. She wanted to stand tall as the execution begun. Her father being first to go was for a reason.

Even in his doom, Otto Hightower managed to make his presence looming.

Alicent wanted not to shed a single tear. But then she felt ten and eight again. Just a girl with two children, and burden pressed firmly on her chest to the point where it was hard to breathe. He was unruly and fickle but without him, she would be alone… again.

Her brain settled between ‘This is all his fault. His debt comes due, as it should’ and ‘Daddy, please look me. Tell me you love me, that I made you proud despite of how it ends for us’.

But all her father told her was to look away. As if to shield her from a terror that had already came. A terror he brought. The horror was on their doorstep now. She was rutted in each night against her wishes; she bore four children - ones she could not save. They bore her grandchildren that she loved in a way she was not able to love her own children. Maybe if she could not help her own, she could do better with the littlest ones.

Jaehaerys. Oh, my poor Jaehaerys.

Everyone is gone. If not in person, in spirit.

Gwayne is gone. Her brother dragged into this mess. When he had arrived in King’s Landing, she has almost missed him amongst the other Oldtown knights. Her heart had sunk lower that she thought it could at the thought of not even recognizing her own kin. His face was one that was no longer burned in her brain.

Helaena’s mind and heart has been rotted from the inside out. On a good day, Alicent can force her to eat and drink. She bathes her daughter as if she still a babe. There is no light in Helaena’s eyes.

Alicent’s mouth feels as if a pile of sand has been dumped in her mouth if she thinks too long about how cold she was when Aemond left for the Riverlands. He gave her a kiss a cheek and muttered a pitiful sorry.

It was all he had said since coming back from Storm’s End. Different variations of the same thing. He never begged for forgiveness from the Gods but from her.

Sorry, mother. I’m so sorry mother.

If she could crush skulls with her bare hands, Alicent would. Not off strength, she’s always been a slip of a woman. But off the hatred that seemed into her bones.

She was prepared to die. She thinks she has been from the moment Viserys said he would marry her. From the moment the maester congratulated her on being pregnant with Aegon. Death had been a thing she even welcomed at times. When the lonliness felt too deep, when she could not stomach being called to Viserys chambers at night, when she had to look at her children for too long. She eyed Criston’s sword one too many times to admit. So, when Daemon leers over her with that cruel, ugly smile of his, she straightens her back and sniffs away her tears. He, of course, got the honors to kill her father; a task Alicent is sure he has wanted to do for decades.

It was Daemon who pushed her hair to the side with such gentleness it made her a bit sick. The coolness of Dark Sister pressed softly against her neck.

Alicent says a quick prayer to the Mother for her children. She knows it is to no veil; they were doomed the moment they came out of her. Mayhaps, this is her punishment for bearing them.

She does not sob over herself. Her lot in life has been well accepted. But Alicent wants to claw at her own face, peel back her own flesh so she is frayed out, when she thinks of her kids.

Let the Mother keep them safe as they do what is only imaginable in their wildest nightmares. May the horrors committed not leave them too soiled.

“Wait,” Rhaenyra’s voice calls out in the Grand Hall. It echoes so loud that Alicent flinches, the blade swiping gently against her neck. She still shivers from head to toe.

Daemon huffs, before removing the blade cautiously.

Alicent peers up at the stairs that lead to the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra gestures softly to her husband to come up the stairs. Daemon does not fully sheathe Dark Sister but complies anyway. A piece of Alicent’s hair obstructs her view, but through it, her eyes stay trained on Rhaenyra. Or whoever the person wearing the crown is.

The woman looks like the Rhaenyra. The same long silvery blonde hair styled elaborately on top of her head with the rest hanging in a braid. Her long riding dress is a deep black with red stitching and a red dragon collar. Red and purple dragons snaking their way up her sleeves. The woman has Rhaenyra’s eyes and nose, but Alicent has never felt more confused about who stands at the feet of the Iron Throne. The woman’s mouth pinches the way a young Rhaenyra’s would when she was distressed.

Rhaenyra’s look makes Alicent think of the stories of warrior queen Visenya. Rhaenyra would often laud the might and cunning of her ancestor during their girlhood. After the pain, humiliation, and anger post Aemond losing his eye, Alicent had chucked softly to herself at the thought her son riding the Conqueror Queen’s beloved dragon. Because of course it would be one of her kids to claim the old bitch.

But despite the styling callback, a warrior Rhaenyra is not.

And based on the look of disgust settling on Daemon’s face, he thinks the same of his wife.

He will never see you as an equal, she wants to call out. It does not matter how many crowns you put on your head, how many dragons you claim - you always just be his little niece… a silly woman. The means to his end.

Their conversation reaches a cacophony and Alicent desperately wants to know what it being said. Is Rhaenyra asking him to make it as gruesome as possible? Maybe they will drag her body out in front of the castle for all the small folk to see. A warning for what can happen if they defy their queen. Alicent already knows the heads of those that helped Aegon and his kids escape will be next once they catch them.

Rhaenyra reaches out to grab Daemon’s arm, but he is already down the stairs muttering expletives out his mouth. Alicent hears the word whore, and scoffs internally. She fights back a sad smile that almost forces itself on her face. Not the first time she has heard that, and surely will not be the last. Poor Daemon has never been clever with his insults. They are as simple as he is. She is the nasty deceitful, whore that seduced Viserys and ruined everything. Used her wily, womanly magic, her cunt, to lure the King of the Fucking Seven Kingdoms into submission. She always noticed how Daemon always acted like she stole Viserys from him.

The same way the maidens whose virtue Daemon stole must be whores too. The same way Queen Aemma must have been inadequate since she did not give Viserys what he wanted. Something must have been wrong with Rhea and Laena too. Maybe even Daemon’s own daughters are not enough. Surely, something is wrong with Rhaenyra. Something that makes Daemon’s stomach curdle. Such is the way with men like him.

Viserys will be remembered as a peaceful king, and a gentle man. A king who was so averse to conflict that he raped Alicent for children he then neglected once they came. He was so kind he made sure his first wife died in a pool of blood with nothing but screams of agony and pleas of mercy dying in her lips.

She wonders if Rhaenyra knows that charming story. Would she still have felt safe under the patronage of Viserys if she knew such? Imagine the horror that Alicent felt when she overheard maesters whispering of such when she was pregnant with Aegon.

Alicent is sure Daemon will die being known as a ‘true’ and ‘honest’ warrior. Apparently, there are those that think there is some sort of honor in being upfront about ones rotting heart. As if his cavalier attitude negates the atrocities on his hands. The world has taught Alicent that type of ruthlessness is only tolerated at the hands of a man.

And Alicent, in all her attempts to do right, to keep her head above water, to appease and break herself down into a small enough package that all can accept her, will be known as a whore. A seducer, a scheming bitch that stole the agency of a grown man. She will die being blamed and accused.

It only seemed right she supposed.

Viserys the Peaceful. Daemon the Honest. Alicent… the Whore.

Her confusion mounts when Daemon does not come back to her to finish the job. Instead, he continues walking, right past and leaving the hall in a fit of anger and rage. Alicent knees have begun to ache from being crouched. Rhaenyra clears her throat, and Alicent eyes slowly go back to her. Dark bags rimmed Rhaenyra’s eyes, only drawing more attention to the extremely dark limbal ring that surrounded deep amethyst. When Alicent heard about Lucerys’ death, it had shaken her to her core. Frankly more for Aemond’s sake than for Rhaenyra’s or the boy’s. The thought of peace still naively in her mind. Alicent always seemed to the last one to arrive at the right conclusions. A fatal flaw of hers unfortunately.

You were already ill-fated, you foolish boy! Why make yourself accursed as well!

But when Alicent heard of Jacaerys’ death, she knew what was to come. There are few things a parent loves more than their first born.

…. Alicent had never known what the smell of burning flesh was like till Aegon.

“I have decided to spare your life,” the few people that stood in the hall, her council, begin to whisper to each other. Rhaenyra shifts uncomfortably at the eyes on her. “For the sake of my father, who loved you once.”

Alicent blinks once, then twice, then three times. She is almost a bit disappointed. Rhaenyra has taken so much and now she has taken death off the table too.

And is that what they are calling what Viserys did to her? Love? Rhaenyra could not possibly believe that. Not now after everything. After the way Rhaenyra would so seamlessly twist the knife when she had the chance, when she was backed in a corner. Rhaenyra knew there was no love there. Not for Alicent and definitely not for her children.

The words crawl up her throat before she can stop them. She must know. “And what of my girl? What of Queen Helaena?”

The queen part slips out truly on accident, a panicked slip of the tongue, but Rhaenyra’s mouth curls a bit in a sneer.

If her Helaena is to die at the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s butchers, to meet the same evil fate Jaehaerys did, then Alicent might beg for the sword. Or a rope and one of the high ceilings of the Red Keep.

Something cold and numb flashes behind Rhaenyra’s already hallow eyes. As if she is just now remembering that she had a sister that still occupied the castle.

“The princess will be spared as well.”

Rhaenyra waves a ringed hand at the guard to have Alicent taken away. Before she can even register was has happened, she is dragged away by the arms.

“Let her be bound in a manner fitting of her new station,” Rhaenyra sits in the Irone Throne elegantly as Alicent goes.

Alicent’s frantic eyes look at her father’s limp body one last time. His blood spilled on the ground. His head separated from the rest of him. It is the first and only time Alicent has ever seen her father so… small.

If Otto was alive now, and they were alone, he would tell her that he was right. He said as much after Jaehaerys was killed. Right before Aegon snatched the hand pin off his grandsire’s jacket and screamed at him that all that cunning had gone to waste by Otto being a ‘bastard that was too thick in the head for his own good’. Otto would say they should have had mercenaries go to Dragonstone and do the deed while they had the chance. He would still be alive. As would Gwayne and Jaehaerys. Helaena would not be in a fugue state beyond repair. Alicent’s boys would be home, and well. Daeron could have come back to King’s Landing for a coronation that was not rushed nor interrupted. Aemond would not have blood on his ledger.

Aegon would be king with no one in his path.

You know it. You're no fool and yet you choose not to see it. The time is coming, Alicent. Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

She stumbles all the way back to the Holdfast with thoughts swirling in her head.

Alicent did not prepare Aegon, the way she should have. But she was not prepared for such things; so how did anyone expect her to know better. How can a child help a child. How does the blind lead the blind. She may not have done what she needed for Aegon, not in that moment. But she refuses to cleave now. Mercy is not a luxury she has been granted for some time.

Have you ever imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

No, of course not. Alicent can be naive, but never stupid. Never foolish or too hot on herself. Her veins have turned ice cold. She does not have her children the way she would want to. Alicent has never had a dragon to threaten others with. The army at her disposal is elsewhere fighting a futile battle. Not even Criston is here.

She just has herself, and right now that has to be enough. It must be enough.

#im very interesting in her queen in chains era #I don’t even know the ending part of this #it would be mixing book lore and hotd tho #there might be rhaenicent… maybe idk #but it will maybe be from Alicent and Helaena’s pov #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower imagine #pro team green #hotd imagine #queen alicent #I am writing a different Alicent thing but that one is almost done I think #Alicent imagine

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spadesolace · 2 years

Text

countdown

pairing: highschool au! minji x fem! reader

warning/s: angst, internalized homophobia

spring cleaning was a chore you hated but also enjoyed, most of the things you put away haven’t seen the light of day for years. to see some old class pictures in high school, cringy letters you’ve received and questionable literary works you’ve done (gosh, were you really that down in the dumps to write something horrific?) digging deep enough, something caught your eye, an item that you probably just threw in to clean up some space. a bracelet with your initials and someone else. who did you know that had the initials KMJ?

Kim Minji.

something feels heavy, clutching for your chest, breathing unevenly. no, you told yourself that you won’t cry because of her again. everything hurts, somehow it feels as if you can’t cry but you’re shedding tears, the room feels a bit smaller, too small for your liking, and everything is closing in on you. countdown from 10.

10.

Kim Minji…

do you remember me?

was our friendship a waste?

what was it that made you push me away?

was it the way I acted?

was it my feelings?

you know I can’t control it.

if i could…

would things be different?

would things be the same?

“Y/N?”

turning around, you saw minji running to you. dazzling smile that would make heads turn and not look away, her melodic laugh, and the way her eyes shined as if they were the galaxy. letting the girl come to you as she started walking next to you, there was no need to rush, it's only a walk to the library for your english class.

“look what i made.” she showed you her bracelet, a friendship bracelet, with her initials. it had the colors of blue, black, and white. cute.

minji started explaining how she learned it within a day, even giving you your own but did you want it? well, yes, but it was a friendship bracelet, shouldn’t minji’s initials be yours? probably not, you’re overanalyzing things again, so you took it despite having doubts.

in the middle of the day, before you could go home, minji stopped you on your tracks. exchanging bracelets because hanni told her it was supposed to be the other way (so, you were right), letting her do her thing as she took off her bracelet and wore it on you. something simple and you’re already blushing, it's not like she’s proposing despite having a few thoughts about it. such a simp.

you were self-aware of your feelings for minji and it was getting a bit harder to keep it to yourself but its not like you’re going to confess. there was no point in confessing, minji wasn’t like that, right?

maybe you were wrong, minji came running to you after hearing certain rumors of hanni liking minji in a more than friends way. she was considering it, actually thinking of giving her a chance and now… you just feel empty. there was no advice coming from you or the coldness in your tone was evident, minji wasn’t dense, she just saw right through you. did you act upon your feelings? as if.

minji wasn’t like that, right? she didn’t like hanni that way, if she did you would have known. you were in denial, jealous, a bit possessive but you didn’t have the right to feel that way. just a friend, best friend, close friend, classmates, nothing more. a relationship with minji was a fantasy that you wished for every time, from a wishing well, a shooting star, the candles on your birthday cake, and holding your breath through a tunnel (which was risky). you knew the consequences, it was made aware to you whenever your emotions get the best of you; holding her tighter, cold shoulder, passive-aggressive statements, and sometimes kissing her hand… you were deep in denial.

until she confronted you, through chat, not even in person.

the rest of the school year, you simply messaged her but to no avail, she ghosted you. sending your goodbye on graduation day, minji became a thing of the past as you finally took the bracelet off and said goodbye to that chapter. she was your first love and it brought you pain, misery, and a lot of trauma.

the second time you fell, you didn’t confess, doubting everything, she showed you the beauty of the world and how to love yourself (as cliche as it is). you would do anything for her, because you actually felt loved.

“Y/N?” now, you’re back in your closet, holding your chest, while the bracelet was now on the floor. did you fall asleep?

“its ok, take deep breaths, what happened? another panic attack?” slowly opening your eyes, finally seeing your girlfriend soothing your back as your breathing finally went back to normal.

“y-yeah… just saw this and things went to shit.” you tried laughing at it but she only looked at you concerned, finally noticing the bracelet, you heard her curse under her breath.

“its ok, haerin. i’m fine… how long was i out?”

“about 10 minutes, your mom panicked and called me immediately.”

after that, haerin helped you with spring cleaning, letting her finish the one with your high school items to avoid any more incidents. your mind wandered, does she miss you? did she regret what she did? or was everything nothing to her?

minji is the past, haerin is your present and your future. still, you wanted to send your thanks to minji for helping you grow as a person. wherever she is, you hope not to see her again.

“y/n, come on, let’s get some ice cream.” minji was right, you and haerin really had a thing going and you regret not taking it early.

#minji x reader #kim minji #kim minji newjeans #kim minji x reader #newjeans #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #kpop x reader #kpop gg #angst

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months

Text

Choices!Series Part Two: Compromise - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds @thiashazzywriting @whateversomethingbruh @a-noni-love @reneejett4

Choices!Series

Part One: Diamonds - An undercover op makes Nik ask a question.

You’ve forgotten how good Sabatino is at playing a role. Tonight he's the rich, doting husband. Possessive over his woman, willing to give her whatever she desires. His thumb chases across your lower back, tracing over your bare skin and it sends a flush of heat chasing through your body. It’s an intimate gesture, one that makes it very clear to everyone else in the room exactly who you belong to.

You lose him in the raid, one minute he’s beside you, securing the suspect and the next both him and the painting have vanished. You wish you could have expected something different. It’s not the first time he’s pulled something like this. You guess the painting will go back into circulation; GPS tagged so they can track the next round of terrorist funding.

When you return to the office you find the matching wedding band that he was wearing, sitting upon your desk.

You know you won’t be seeing him tonight, that he needs the space to lick his wounds.

As you study the platinum ring between your fingers you wonder if this is the choice that Sam was talking about.

“There comes a time when you just can’t bend any further, there’s no more flexibility. You and Sabatino are going to get to that point and when you do one of you will have to make a decision. It’ll be make or break.”

You’re there right now, you can feel it in your heart. Marriage is the one thing that you can’t compromise on and now he knows it.

***

Sabatino goes back to his hotel room that night, the one the CIA hire out for him whenever he’s in LA. He hasn’t told them that the two of you are living together, they don’t even know that he’s in a relationship because if they did, you’d be seen as leverage.

He lies down on the bed, still clad in his suit and he thinks about that moment, the one when he slipped the ring onto your finger. He didn’t realise how much he wanted it until then, how much it meant to him.

If he does this, if he choses a future with you then he has to be done with the CIA and that comes with stipulations, ones that he has to fulfil if he wants them to cut him loose.

“I think your job allows you to have one foot out the door.” You had told him.

He understands that’s what it must look like to you, that he’d not entirely invested, that he’s always ready to leave but the truth is he’s scared. He knows his value as an operative, that The Agency won’t want to release him. He’s terrified of what they might do if they find out that you’re the reason he’s putting in his papers.

His thumb plays over the empty space on his ring finger, the one where up until a few hours ago a platinum wedding band resided. He’d liked the feel of it, of belonging to you, of other people knowing that. You were right when you said there’s a security in being married.

The problem is the stability. He wants to be around more, to be involved in your life but his job prevents that. You can go months at a time without seeing each other, barely communicating if he’s in deep cover.

He wants to be there in your day to day, to hold your hand on the way to brunch, to get up at crazy o’clock to go running, to cuddle up on the couch scaring yourselves silly on the latest Netflix documentary. He wants a life with you, a whole one, not the one he’s been living for the past four years.

There’s only one person who knows what he’s going through, who can shed some light on his next steps and that’s Michelle Hanna. He resolves to visit her the next morning.

Maybe between the two of them they can figure something out.

Love Nik? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#ncis la #sabatino x you #erik palladino #sabatino x reader #sabatino #Vostanik Sabatino x reader #Vostanik Sabatino #ncis los angeles #Vostanik Sabatino x you #nik sabatino #nik sabatino x you #nik sabatino x reader

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elslovers · 1 year

Text

the one - E. Williams

a/n hello my loves apologies for falling off I have just been in a writing slump but I decided the perfect way to pull myself out was with a series I had been wanting to write for awhile of on shots inspired by Taylor swift songs - as ur certified switftie tlou writer it is my duty this is angsty but no better way to start off than some Ellie folklore angst I hope you enjoy

" and if my wishes came true it would've been you"

Your hand clutches the stem of your wine glass, makeup-caked eyes, and a weaker spirit than you possessed less than twenty-four hours ago. Chaos is so intense it's almost peaceful, like when something moves so fast the human eye can't see it. That's how losing Ellie has you feeling, spinning so fast you almost think you are standing still pacing, and you know your pacing, but your mind is somewhere else. You only stop when you catch a glimpse of yourself in your vanity mirror.

" I guess the greatest loves of all time all time are over now"

Your body sinks into the memory of your meeting you'd always been a romantic dreaming up the great love affairs you would have with the cute barista because she said she liked your bangs or the pretty girl who lived down the hall from you freshmen year it wasn't uncommon for you to fall fast and hard which is what made Ellie so Wonderfully different you weren't free falling into fantasy you were content in reality with her from the moment you met you were her waitress and she and her friends who would soon become chosen family had been hogging a table all night at the shitty little diner you worked at ordering nothing but hot cocoa and fries for the table you usually would mind but from the moment you saw her you started saying a prayer that shed be there till close she would smile at you every time you brought fresh cocoa for the table finding a new aspect of you to compliment shyly each time, you saw the eyes her friends made giving her a look of stop fuckin around and make a move and when she saw you dip into the bathroom she made her move.

you remembered it all feverishly a little hazy in some parts but some moments so sharp with hurt you were washing your hands when you saw her walk in from the mirror a smile turning up on your lips - was she here for you? You recall thinking these moments were fuzzy, her mind racing too much to remember the small talk you made, but when her lips crashed onto you with hunger, you made sure to remember everything the way her calloused hands held your cheeks, the way she didn't hesitate the way she backed you against the wall and after what felt like only a second pulled back and gave you a smile that seemed to say she already knew she had you and then kissed you again just as starved as the first Ellie has a talent for kissing you every damn time as she might never kiss you again

from that moment on it was just you and Ellie

until it wasn't

"and if you wanted me you really should've showed"

The problem with loving someone like Ellie is the love being loved more than their lover, or at least that is what you had gathered after six months of loving and losing at the same time she has a wandering eye, always had, always will, but she was yours. That's what you assured yourself of when she started hiding her phone more. She was yours. It's what you told yourself when she stopped asking you to accompany her to the house parties she sold at. She was yours, but Ellie belonged to everyone and no one all at once. She was never really anyone. Her friends would say how impressed they were. She'd made it so long that she was never good at monogamy, and you would always say she was good with you.

because god was she good with you

good until she wasn't until she was good with the girl she promised was just a client turned smoke buddy you prided yourself on being cool unattached the type of girlfriend Ellie wanted the kind who didn't panic (or at least didnt let her see) you kept yourself so cool the girl she told you not to worry about found her way into the bed you shared found her way inside the girl you thought would make you never be shared again

good until it wasn't

The screaming her begging you not to leave you, throwing her shit into the hallway of your apartment, demanding she get the fuck out. The girl who Ellie could still taste on her lips, running for the hills as fast as she could, was all still fresh in your mind, an open wound bleeding out memories you try and drink away. 'How could you be meant to sound solid and angry like a proper woman scorned would sound? You try to sound like the hell these women are supposed to give, but it comes out weak and broken, followed by a sob and trembling lip as you try to preserve whatever dignity you have left - how could you be so blind? "Baby- she's nothing. I swear she's nothing." ellies pleading, but it is disregarded because, at that moment, you feel like the one who's nothing "Honestly, Ellie, if that's how you treat girls who mean nothing, then what the fuck am I- six months, and then you meet some girl and take her home." you sun onto the bed sobbing for her to leave until she shut the door of your once-shared home for the last time

"but if you never bleed your never gonna grow"

you spend the next three weeks bleeding day drunk in your bed cycling the five stages of grief one after another day in day out it hurt in a way you'd never felt pain before the betrayal the worst of it all it hurt more then losing her

but you let yourself feel it all because somewhere a part of you knows if you don't feel it now you'll be feeling it for the rest of your life

" I'm doing good i'm on some new shit"

Two months feel like a lifetime, like you've been walking around watching your whole life on a film screen with a projector that never entirely comes into focus - but after two months of grief, you want to bloom again. You want to be the version of yourself you were before Ellie broke your heart and took your light with you. The pains are still there, but it coexists alongside a fury to not let her win

so step one is to do your hair how you used to big rollers, pulling them out into perfect curls. Step two is to do your makeup in a way that makes you glow light and airy as the sun gave you her blessing to outshine her, and three, go to a party knowing there is a 50/50 chance she'll be in attendance and not caring either way

the music is loud in your chest, the bass a welcome replacement to the pounding go your heart. You always made it a rule never to go out alone, but getting over Ellie seems to require breaking some rules

you take one shot after another, stopping when you reach the happy place of drunkenness of not being too sure you are standing on solid ground

you dance alone, and you dance against people. You dance with people until you've settled your eyes on a girl who could make you forget who made you like this in the first place

she's pulling someone by the sleeve of their flannel, and after a moment, Ellies figure steps Into the red and blue led lights of the dance floor

god, Williams, you always did have good taste

the familiar feeling of emotions flowing out of you serves as a reminder that no amount of bleeding will heal this wound

not yet, at least

your frozen mind is willing your body to move before she has the privilege of seeing you of being in the same space as you, a privilege you swore to both her and yourself she would never have again - but you rooted to the floor, and in an instant, her eyes are on you filling with an emotion you can't place

before you know it, her strides are strong coating across the dance floor, leaving the girl who two minutes ago you were plotting to take home in the dust

she's by your side in an instant, and you want to run - you need to run, but you can't bring yourself to feel the spark you just got back draining faster than you can stop

"Angel," her voice is loud but gentle over the music, and her words make your stomach churn Ellie and alcohol have always been a sour mix

"you don't get to call me that anymore" There's no gentleness in your words, no harshness, neither its matter of fact, which somehow hurts Ellie more than if you were to scream at her

"I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, but it's months, and your all that's on my mind. I see it; okay, you're the one. I got caught up, and I lost sight of that," her voice is begging, a sound you used to adore but now just makes you want to vomit

you were the one

but she wasn't

"your right- I was. I was the one, Ellie, and we- use, this fuckin love was something, and if I got everything I wanted, it would've been you. It would've been sweet if you could've seen it was me all along, but you couldn't, and now I'm the one that got away, not the one you get to have"

whatever force that had been holding you there let go allowing you to walk out of that party prepared to finish the bleeding and move on to the growing.

#iriswrites #tlou fic #ellie williams #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #Ellie williams angst #ellie x reader #taylor swift #folklore

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drabbles-mc · 2 years

Text

Nothing New

EZ Reyes x OFC (Lola Ortega)

Whumptober 2022: No.15 Emotional Damage- New Scars

Warnings: angst, language, referenced/implied smut

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Ohhhhh there is going to be more for these two I already know it. But this was such an adventure of a fic. What a time. Shout-out to @narcolini and @ashlingnarcos for helping me work through this despite the numerous roadblocks I hit with it. I feel like I’ll be coming back to these two when Whumptober is over. They’re officially on the idea rotisserie.

EZ Reyes Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @thesandbeneathmytoes @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @doritosandjellybeans @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @bport76 @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @anditsmywholeheart @i-love-scott-mccall @withmyteeth @shadow-of-wonder @punkgoddess-98 @lexondeck @redpoodlern @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardsanddetectives @littlekittymeow @amorestevens @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @mveggieburger @thanossexual @choochoo284 @passionatewrites @solidly-indulgent @broiderie (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

EZ woke early, his body rousing him even though he didn’t have his alarm. His eyes slowly began to open, one of the first things he became aware of was the fact that he was waking to a mouthful of long, dark hair and someone’s hand lightly gripping onto his thigh to keep his legs hooked over hers. Pulling his head back, he let out a nearly silent chuckle as it all came rushing back to him.

He slipped his arm from around Lola’s waist so he could gently smooth her hair down, pressing it away from his face. His head dropped back against the pillow as he took a deep breath, trying not to flinch at the ticklish sensation of her hand twitching against his leg as she slept. Her breathing was slow, even. EZ took a moment to just listen to it, to soak it in. He couldn’t see her face, but he could picture her expression. He wished that he knew that kind of peace—he didn’t think that he had that even when he slept.

Carefully lifting her arm off of his leg, he unhooked it from around her. He set her arm down, letting it drape over herself as he slowly slipped away from her. He managed to get out of bed without waking her, although something told him that it would take quite a lot to do that. Running his hand over his face and head, he walked around to the other side of the bed.

He stopped for a moment to look at her. A few stray locks of hair were cast over her face, the arm that hadn’t been holding onto EZ was tucked up underneath her pillow. He could already see the lines from the sheets indented in her tan skin. Her lips were almost turned down into a frown but not quite. Even still, she looked so relaxed. EZ smiled at her for a moment before turning back around and making his way towards the door of her room.

Before he got there, though, he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror that she had hanging on the wall between her door and her dresser. He stopped in his tracks, unable to avoid the reflection staring back at him. It felt different to see himself that way, in his entirety. Usually he was only seeing himself from the shoulders up in the tiny mirror above his sink in the bathroom of his trailer.

His boxers were hung low on his hips, the rest of his clothes in a heap on the floor along with hers. He looked at himself, unable to ignore the fresh scar along his abdomen. The one that accompanied the one that went down along the outside of his bicep, slicing through the outer edge of his Santa Maria tattoo. His tattoo was no longer the perfect match to Angel’s.

That was the one thing that the tiny mirror in his tiny trailer afforded him: avoidance. He wasn’t forced to look at the fresh blemishes etched into his skin. His fingers ran along the one on his stomach before he turned his arm and traced along the one that cut through his tattoo.

His whole life he had been repressing memories. The nature of remembering everything was learning how not to think about them. While there was no hope of forgetting anything, he had gotten much better at locking things up. The world was full of reminders that he had to ignore every day, but now his body carried those reminders too. These were ones that he couldn’t look the other way on, he couldn’t speed past them in the hopes of not getting a good look. They were there. All the time.

He spent all of those years in prison and had managed to get out unscathed. Or, rather, no marks that had lasted past his stay. Most of the damage that he’d sustained then was internal—it was all in his mind. The bumps and cuts and bruises during those years all faded away eventually.

And yet, less than one year outside and now he looked like this. No amount of muscles and skin-fades were good enough to distract himself from the ridges on his skin. He could cover them up, hide them from other people, but he always knew they were there. He could feel them sometimes, the pull against his skin that didn’t used to be there. Even when he had them covered, he still couldn’t avoid being aware of them. Sometimes he thought it was all in his head, but at that point he also reasoned that it didn’t really matter.

He shook his head at himself, trying to dispel the memories. That night had started off as a clusterfuck, and looking back they should’ve taken it as a sign to cut their losses. But that had never been his strong suit, or the strong suit of any of the men in the club. Sunk cost had them all by the jugular. And now he had reminders of their mistakes that were never going to go away.

He applied a little more pressure as his fingers ran along the scar on his arm. He repeated the motion a few times over, like if he kept pressing, the skin would smooth itself back out and the scar would disappear. He could feel the tearing like it was happening all over again. His mind instantly transporting him back, like he could smell the blood and hear the gunfire around him.

EZ didn’t realize how tense his muscles were, or how tightly his jaw was clenched, until he felt a soft palm resting against his back. The warmth brought him back to the present, although his body took a moment to catch up, his limbs still feeling locked up.

Standing up on her tip-toes, Lola hooked her chin over his shoulder so she could look at him through the reflection of the mirror. Her hair was a mess, but there was a tired and warm smile on her face as she slipped her arms around his middle. He hoped that his smile looked more effortless than it felt.

“Easier to check yourself out if you turn the light on,” she said with a soft laugh, pressing a kiss against his bare shoulder.

He looked at her through the mirror, a little more relaxed as he focused on her face. He took his hand from the scar on his arm and rested it over her hands. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Oh,” she laughed, “it’ll take more than that.”

“Yea?” he chuckled.

“Once I’m out,” she shook her head, “I’m out.” She paused. “You okay?”

He nodded, trying to look more certain of himself than he really felt. “Yea, why?”

She shrugged, resting her chin back on his shoulder again. “Looked like I interrupted an important conversation that you were having with yourself.”

The laugh that he let out was tired, but genuine. “Those don’t happen very often.” He waited for her to have another witty response. Instead, he saw her focusing on him, eyes raking over his whole body. She didn’t have the same scrutinizing expression that he had when he looked at himself, though. “What?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Nothing. Just, you know, it’s been a while. You’re different now. Just…just taking it all in.”

A smirk curled the end of his lips as he said, “Didn’t get enough of that last night?”

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she pulled her arms back from around him, playfully pushing the center of his back. “Cállate.”

He shook his head as he laughed. Before she could step back too far, he reached behind and grabbed her arms, pulling them back around him again. She didn’t fight him on it as she pressed up against his back once more.

She smiled, leaning into him. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”

“That’s nothing new.”

She nodded. “True.” Her fingers splayed across the toned muscles of his stomach, “These are though.” There was a playful smirk on her face as she said it.

EZ rolled his eyes but he was still smiling. “Wasn’t going to stay lanky and fifteen forever.”

“I guess not.” Her smile shrank a tad as her fingertips ghosted along the scar on his stomach. “This is new, too.”

She felt him tense beneath her touch, and not in the same way he would to flex. It wasn’t him trying to show off, make himself be more impressive. He tensed because there was no shrinking away from her. There was no getting away from her stare, her touch.

“Didn’t miss that one by much.” He gently moved her hand as he spoke.

She allowed him to redirect her touch. He rested her hand against his chest and she let it happen as she replied, “I can see that.” She saw the slight knit of his brows and she chuckled softly. “What? I know a fresh scar when I see one,” she paused, leaning against him a little more, “even if I wasn’t pre-med like some people.”

“Right.” He tried to feign normalcy as he threaded his fingers with hers, both their hands pressed against his chest now. “When did you get back, anyway? I always pictured you in some expensive penthouse in New York somewhere.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I was only in New York for a few months after I graduated.” She shrugged. “Just an internship. Then I came back home. Or, you know, homeish. Couple towns up. By then, though, you were already…” her voice trailed off.

He nodded. “Yea.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. She brought her other hand up, resting it on the outside of his arm. At first she just traced along the lines of ink that made up the tattoo. She remembered seeing Angel’s. She must’ve missed when EZ got the same one. She wondered how long before he went to prison that had happened.

EZ watched her as she studied his arm. He wanted to pull away but he couldn’t force it to happen. Ever so slowly, her fingers wandered to the scar that was now part of the tattoo. Two types of permanence intertwined.

“Assuming I just missed this one too?” she asked.

EZ swallowed hard, nodding, but he didn’t say anything. She waited for him to push her hand away again, or to shrug her off, but instead he stood and watched. She watched him as he focused on the feeling of her fingers wandering over his skin.

“What happened?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, didn’t even try to meet her eyes through the reflection, she changed her question. “Does it have to do with the leather vest on my floor?”

That got him to pry his eyes away from her hand. He shook his head, “It’s called a kutte.”

She rolled her eyes but she was still giving him a small smile. “Don’t do that, EZ.”

He shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

She moved, stepping so that she was in front of him, forcing him to look at her and blocking his view of the mirror. For a moment he looked her over, taking in the sight of her in her over-sized t-shirt, one that was just barely long enough to reach the tops of her thighs but it still did the trick. It was hard for him to wrap his brain the fact that the two of them were really there. After so many years together, and then so many years apart, suddenly they stumbled back across each other and immediately ended up here. She was different, but not really. He was just different.

Her voice drew him back in again. “I’m listening.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes, shaking his head as he looked anywhere but at her. “Lola…”

“Ezekiel,” she matched his tone. She gently cupped his chin and turned his head so that he was forced to look at her. “You can tell me. It’s not like—"

“Stop,” he lifted his chin out of her hand and took a step back.

“EZ,” she plead.

“You don’t have to do this.” He backpedaled, grabbing his long-sleeve off the ground and slipping it on over his head, a vain and futile attempt to hide it all.

“This?” she asked, stepping over to him. “What’s this?”

He shook his head as he scooped his jeans off the floor. “You don’t need to pretend that you’re worried about me. Or pretend that you still know me.”

“I’m not pretending. I—”

“Whoever you think I am,” he shook his head, fastening the belt around his waist, “whoever I was, I’m not that guy anymore.”

“What? And you think that the rest of us are the same people we were in high school?” She walked over to him. She stood as close as she could, looking up at him. “Do you think I’m the same person I was back then?”

He huffed. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

He let out a laugh, one that felt cruel. He saw the way that Lola flinched at the sound and he felt bad, but there was no taking it back now. “How could it be? You, you went off to college, went across the country for an internship, came back and started up your own life here. You know where I was while you were doing all of that? What I was doing?”

Tears sprung into her eyes. “EZ…”

He grabbed his kutte off the floor, slipping it over his shoulders. He didn’t look her in the eyes as he spoke, his voice cold, “I gotta go.”

“Ezekiel!” she wanted to sound angry but she just sounded sad.

“I’m sorry.” He gave the side of her head a chaste kiss, like that would be enough to soothe the sting of what had just happened.

The urge to tell him to go fuck himself was strong, but the words got caught in her throat. She didn’t know how much she’d really mean them, anyway. She watched him as he pulled open her bedroom and walked out. Part of her wanted to go after him, but she didn’t know what kind of good it would do. She heard the change in the sound of his footsteps after he put his boots back on, followed by the sound of her apartment door shutting behind him.

Taking a step back, she sat back down on the edge of her bed. It felt like the air had gotten sucked out of her lungs. How things had gone wrong so quickly was beyond her. Maybe he was right, maybe there was too much distance between who they were now and who they used to be. Maybe they were only good before daylight started creeping through the cracks of her curtains.

Raking her fingers back through her hair, she pushed it back out of her face. She looked around her room for a moment, and aside from the string of her clothes littered across the floor, there was no sign that EZ had ever even been there. If she wanted to, she could pretend that none of it had ever happened. Or, if she wanted, she could just say that she had fallen into bed with an old friend who turned out to be an asshole now and that would be the end of it. But she didn’t want to do any of that.

She took a deep breath as she stood up off her bed once more. She went around the room, collecting up the mess she’d let EZ make the night before, tossing all of her laundry into the hamper where it belonged. Grabbing a fresh set of clothes out of her dresser, she went off to shower and try to get ready for the day, not that she knew what was going to be in store for her now. Her plans had just taken off out the door a few minutes before.

The next couple of days went by quickly. The hours were long but the days were short. Lola had taken the time to think of every possible way to try and reach out to EZ, every possible avenue the conversation could take. She knew that EZ could ignore a text, reject a phone-call. She didn’t want to leave him an easy out. Ever since he left her apartment, all she’d thought was that she shouldn’t have let that be that easy for him either.

That was how she ended up standing outside the gates of the Romero Brother’s Scrapyard. She hadn’t even known that the place existed, let alone known that it was home base for the local motorcycle club. Being outside county lines separated her more than she thought.

It was quiet as she walked across the lot. She didn’t expect it to be busy, but she was expecting to see someone at least. It was a shot in the dark assuming that EZ would be there, but even if he wasn’t, maybe someone could at least direct her to him.

“Ho-ly shit,” a familiar voice came from across the yard, “is that who I think it is?”

A wave of ease washed over her, not just at the fact that it was Angel who saw her first, but the fact that he actually sounded excited to see her. EZ must not have told him what happened. She turned to him with a smile. “Hey, Angel.”

“Lil Ortega,” he grinned as he walked over and pulled her into a hug.

“God,” she groaned with a laugh, “I don’t miss that.”

“Yea you do.” He pulled away from her so he could look at her. “What’s up?”

“Looking for EZ.”

He hummed knowingly. “Of course you are.”

She rolled her eyes, not feeding into the game. “Is he here, or not?”

“C’mon, Lola, you finally show up to my stomping grounds and you’re lookin’ for my baby brother? Feels a little personal.”

“I didn’t even know that all of this was back here,” she looked around as she spoke.

“Should’ve, you know, called me, texted me, sent me a fuckin’ pigeon or whatever. I would’ve invited you.”

She looked up at him, shaking her head. “Phone works two ways.”

He sucked his teeth but a smirk quickly took over his face. “You got me.” He nodded towards the beat-up trailer on the other side of the yard. “He just got off his shift.”

She patted him on the chest. “Thank you.”

“Now that you know we’re here,” he called after her, “you got no excuse to be a stranger!”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she continued her way towards EZ’s trailer. Every step closer, the sense of unease grew stronger. By the time she got to the trailer steps, she almost wanted to turn around and bail. It was too late now though. Taking a deep breath, she reached forward and knocked against the flimsy metal and screen door.

Seconds later, EZ was standing on the other side. Even through the screen, Lola could see that he was slicked with sweat, his dark green work-shirt darker in placed where it was dampened with his sweat. His expression went from annoyed to something sullener when he saw Lola standing on the other side of the screen door.

She saw the rise and fall of his shoulders as he sighed, as he weighed out his options for a response. “I came all this way,” she said with a weak smile, “least you could do is let me in.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did pull the door open, allowing her up the steps and into his tiny trailer. She didn’t offer any comment on it, and he didn’t offer any kind of an explanation. They both knew that his living situation wasn’t what she had shown up to talk about.

He leaned back against the small counter in his kitchen, unable to look her in the eyes. He hadn’t been expecting her to track him down. A large part of him just assumed that the two of them were done, that they were going to go back to being strangers. The energy radiating off of her let him know that he had been an idiot to think that way.

“I thought about what you said.”

He sighed, head dropping so that his chin tucked against his chest. “Lola, look, I’m—”

“Don’t try to go back on it now.” She chuckled dryly. “You…you were right. My life hasn’t looked the same as yours.” She crossed the minimal space between them. “But that doesn’t get to be your excuse to shut me out, to make it so I never know you again.”

He lifted his chin, just enough to look her in the eyes. “It’s not worth the trouble.”

She stepped in a little closer, her hand reaching for his arm. With no issue at all, her hand found the scar even beneath the sleeve of his work-shirt. She felt him flinch but she didn’t let up. “Knowing you isn’t trouble for me. It feels like it’s trouble for you.”

He huffed out a tired chuckle, but Lola could see the emotion welling in his eyes. “You’re doing good, Lola. Great, actually. Me? This?” he gestured to his trailer and the door that led outside, “Is going to ruin that.”

“Why, because you think it ruined you?”

“I ruined me,” he argued. “That’s how I ended up here.”

“Stop.” She shook her head at him. “You didn’t ruin you. You aren’t ruined. You’re, you know, a little banged up,” her thumb traced over the scar as she said it, “but you’re not ruined.”

“If you knew—”

“Then tell me. Let me make that call.” She paused. “Or are you the only one who gets to do that?”

There was a long stretch of silence before he sighed. “What do you want from me?”

“Don’t shut me out,” she replied honestly.

He slowly shook his head. “I don’t—”

“Stop making excuses. I’m not asking you to bare your whole soul to me right now. I wasn’t asking for that the other day, either.”

“Some things are a bit heavy to bring up the first time seeing you after, how many years was it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yea, because hooking up was us really easing back into the friendship.”

The comment got a genuine smile out of him for a moment. He wasn’t expecting that from her, but maybe that was him forgetting that she changed over the years too. “What are we doing here, Lola?”

She shrugged. “Getting to know each other again, apparently. A little out of order,” she moved her hand from his arm to the side of his face, “but still.”

“You’re still a sap.”

She hummed in agreement as he leaned into her touch. “Apparently I’m not the only one.” She paused. “I’ve missed you.”

He brought his hand up, and he could see the relief in her body as he laced his fingers with hers. “Me too.”

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deathvisited · 6 months

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12 years of letters

9 years after leaving

it's your 9th birthday and i'm trying to imagine what you would be interested in. do you like reading? do you enjoy monsters and fairytales? do you love horses? do you like disney movies? or are you into superheroes and villains? do you like marvel and comic books? are you into riding dirt bikes or are you playing with dolls? there is so much I don't know about you my beautiful girl, and yet I like to sit here and imagine that you are doing something that you love. that your dad is making this the best day of the year, as it should be, that he is celebrating the gift of you in his life. i can't imagine anything else, you are to me a blessing, each and every day. and so today, on your ninth birthday, I wish you nothing but happiness and joy, that you smile so brightly and widely that your face hurts, that you laugh until your stomach aches, and I wish more than anything that my absence doesn't dim your day. i hope my shadow doesn't darken your brightness, I hope that you can forget about me, to run and play, whether it's with dolls or toy soldiers and that you are spoiled as much as your dad can provide.

i cannot wait until i'm able to share your birthday with you, if I ever get that gift I promise I won't take it for granted. if I was able to this day would be entirely about you, we'd go out and do whatever you wanted, you'd be able to pick out anything and there would be no such thing as 'no' for you today. i would shower you with love and kisses, i'd have woken you up with your favourite breakfast food and you'd be off school today. i'd love nothing more than to spend the day sitting and giggling with you about everything and anything, and I miss you more than words can say. i cannot wait to meet you Fia and I can only hope that you don't hate me. if you do I'll understand that, I really will, there is no explanation that will make sense for you right now, but one day it might, when you're older. but I'm doing this for you, and more than anything I wish that I could be with you.

as always you are with me every day, of every minute, of every breath, and you always will be my beautiful, beautiful girl.

10 years after abduction

do you remember that time that we snuck into the movie theatre and spent the afternoon there? we watched every movie they had on offer and no one figured us out. i felt so free then, so wild, as if we could conquer the world. i thought you were the height of cleverness, that I had never met a man that's soul sang so closely to my own. it wasn't long after that that I realized there was a difference between us. you're ... not soft, but kind, tender, you err on the side of being gentle whereas I don't think I have any gentleness in me. i think my mother burned it out right alongside my self respect and dignity. i think it was abandoned in the back of a room where I had to take my clothes off and do what I was told. i believe I shed that gentleness when I realized that fia would never be safe from my mother. that she would be hunted, and hurt, and used, like I had been.

i have many regrets nate, leaving you is not one of them.

i've spent 10 years getting everything together to eventually come back, and yet now.... well. i don't know if I have the gentleness to face my daughter if she is anything like you. what if she sees nothing but the bitter twisted corpse that I am remaining? what if you see that? i am terrified of presenting myself to the both of you, but I also know that I am too selfish to stay away. i believe you're happy, I have to. if you're not I have nothing but apologies, but I can promise you that the bitter twisted monster I have become isn't your doing, and I only hope that you benefit from it.

i hope that you are able to recognize me when I walk back into your life and don't gasp in horror and fear at the changes that I have wrought in myself.

i hope that you are able to see the girl that you lit up and turned into something so very different from the broken mirror I had been. you patched me together once without even realizing it, and although I don't expect you to do it again I have hope. then again you might just send me away when you see me and how could I fault you for that?

i am scared beyond words to face you.

11 years after abduction

i'm almost done, and that terrifies me, I have spent so long with this plan, so meticulously long, and I can't even get praise for it. no one will know, not even you, if you ever get this. i do not want to see the horror in your eyes, or the fear on your face when you realize what i can do, what i will do to protect my family. because you are my family. i refuse to think of you or fia as anything else, and i will make sure you are safe. by any means necessary. i refuse to live in a world where you may be in danger and so I'll make certain that you won't be.

i hope that you can forgive me.

i hope that i can forgive myself.

i hope that you don't hate me.

*scribbled out words* because i hate me, I hate myself every day I look at her and know that she drove me to this, but I also love her and seeing her slow decay has killed me right alongside her

i love you. i love fia. i loved our family and sooner than later I'll be with you again. please just give me a chance to explain, please forgive me at least for protecting the both of you.

@thewholecrew

#✦ — • rel: fia & ver • verity williams •#✦ — • finley & fia • nate & ver •#✦ — • thewholecrew • nate •#✦ — • rel: nate & ver • verity williams •

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moonshadow1 · 6 months

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Your thoughts

This has been going on since me and my brother were 5 years old, (our mom and dad live in different homes in the same town but didn't get married) but when we would be with him on thw weekends he started leaving us alone in a shed house thing, TWO 5 YEAR OLDS ALONE FOR HOURS ALONE WITH LOTA OF ANIMALS THAT WOULD HURT THEM, lots of cats and two big dogs that would just walk around, even though we never went out when the dogs were near, just seeing them from a far, they were at least like a head taller than us and would absolutely shred us, then he (dad) would come back around 11 - 12, give us some food like Chicken Express, stay a few minutes, leave, come back like 4 hours later, only when we were 6 1/2 did we start going to a babysitter, then a few weeks after we turned 7 we were back to home alone, then at like 9 or 10 we moved to a different house in town, still left home alone for a while, he still comes into OUR room, sit on our bed with us for a hour or 2, go to his room and tell us to "relax" in his room, even though we was with us in OUR bed, (in the previous house we all shared a bed but it's still the same), and in things like trips and trying to get out attention, he would use his.. palm? Side of his hand instead of the.. back? Side of his hand, grabbing then shaking one of our thighs (the left because we are in a pickup truck like 99.99% of the time), he verbally abuses us (both.. physically?- looking at us, and on text/call), sexually (i only have done research abt it so correct me if im ever wrong, but he does things like be in our room in Our (my brother and I's) bed for a long time, doesn't stop when told, he may say he does but then like 5 mins later he does it again -_-) but we also know this isn't new at all because he's done this since we were five and he's also done it with our mother when she was with him (minus thw sexual abuse but verbal abuse was like twice as worse)- oh yeah, i almost forgot, as a FIVE YEAR OLD STILL, i would have to yell and argue with this "man" just for some food! And it's almost never home made and usually a fast food like Chicken Express- yeah it can be nice to have, but to have it for basically a whole weekend to week- no THANKS, (present time), we barely get any sleep too, so much we get hallucinations, usually hearing footsteps coming to our room from his side (our rooms are on opposite sides of rhw house) or a figure like him, or any strange figure, peaking around the corner of our door and looking at us and when we look at "it", it disappears, and we know it's tricks due to stress, lack of sleep and so on, but it still doesn't help at all, one time it was so bad for me that i stayed up for 6 days with 4 hours of sleep, some chocolates to help me stay up if i felt tired, and a phone to keep me occupied and whatnot, and we are absolutely destroyed when we get back to our mom's, just wanting sleep, a break from everything, love (like cuddles and hugs that AREN'T WEIRD) and food and everything we are missing, our mom, grandma, grandpa, older sister, and sometimes our aunts/uncles seeing us look like we're dead with our drained faces, slow movements, hungry, and tired, all of them only able to help and look at us with pity, and by the time we start feeling more better, time to visit him again, and usual both of us are like "Thursday is hell day, wish us luck. We are with him this Friday, time to die." Ect. Even though we know he's gonna do something, qe can't record it because he's close to the both of us so it's too risky to record and we aren't too sure when he would actually do it, and so on, my brother does self harm and has been caught several times while i think suicidal and destroy myself from.. the inside out, yelling at myself (if im not alone i just do it in my head) about many things like im pathetic and whatnot, even though i KNOW im not actually, i just can't help it, and after 4 nights of crying (fourth night my mother was with me) and for like 2 weeks i didn't think of anything bad

Of course this isn't all my life and whatnot, but it should give a jist of how my life is and wondering what people think abt things like this, and maybe if the questions aren't too personal (like age, place we live, ect.) then i could answer to help give some more context to things, but the longer we are stuck like this, the worse it gets for us, and sooner or later, me or my sibling risks death (not like thats always been the case 🙄) and we've tried to get my sibling to make a choice of to cut all ties with dad or keep things the same, but he doesn't say anything other than "i don't want to get him (dad) mad." And things along those lines, yeah im scared but I've faught (well argue) with this man since FIVE, and yes everyone has different reactions to things but they've haved MONTHS of thinking- no reply, he knows of the dangers and the terrible things our dad does, but he's honestly submissive to things like this so far, no matter how hard any of us try, he won't say anything

#narsissist dad #child abuse/endangerment #thoughts?#not sure what else to add

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longjiaojiao · 11 months

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@penguinotaku

It's a interesting story so I'll share it in my blog :)

女湘 Nv Xiang- a girl who named Xiang

This story is from the Qing Dynasty (1794) 乐钧LeJun's collection of short stories, 耳食录 Er Shi Lu, meaning "stories told in your ears", a collection of old stories passed down by word of mouth from the folklore, which the author has adapted from the original stories to make them more educational.

The story is long in careful translation which I'm not good at, so I'll tell it briefly by intercepting the important information:

A young man, 金湘Jin Xiang, was sentimental and wished to be a woman. He fell in love with a begonia tree in his yard, every time the petals fell, he would shed tears and pray, then fall ill. It happened several times a year. His parents thought that this begonia was haunted by a flower demon, so they cut down the begonia tree. Jin Xiang cried bitterly and died from excessive grief.

In the heavenly palace, Jin Xiang's reverence for flowers touched the Flower Goddesses, who helped him to reincarnate with the once-begonia tree. The two souls came to the human world from a new life, and Jin Xiang became a begonia tree, and the once-begonia tree became a peach tree.

They were born in a big family with a very beautiful garden. Whenever the moon was bright and the wind was light, the souls of Jin Xiang and the Flower Gods left the body of the tree to play in the garden, the sisters were very happy playing and living together.

At this time Jin Xiang became infatuated with 雪燕Xue Yan, the daughter of the owner of the garden, who was very beautiful. She would come to visit the garden and break down peach blossoms to put in her hair. Upon seeing the begonias, Xueyan said, "Why haven't the begonias bloomed yet?" So Jin Xiang bloomed early against the flowering period. Xue Yan was so Surprised and happy to see the begonias blossom that she took a few of them back and put them in a bottle. Jin Xiang was also very happy, but in the days that followed, She withered as a result. The peach tree next to him also withered.

Her soul came to the Flower Goddesses again, and this time, the Flower Goddesses gave Her the chance to become a woman. The peach tree said she didn't want to wander the human world any more, and wished to end her relationship with Jin Xiang from then on. So Jin Xiang was born into the Jin family all by herself, again.

As a woman, Jin Xing love women and had no interest in men. She once said that when she was a begonia, it was very painful to be folded, like a limb being cut; but when she was folded by Xue Yan, she felt happy because she loved her so much.

As for the end of the story, Jin Xiang passed away suddenly at the age of twenty. The day before she died, a nun came to her house. No one had ever seen this nun before, but Jin Xiang felt that she was very familiar. The nun said something to Jin Xiang and she nodded her head. The next day, Jin Xiang's soul leave the human world again without any warning.

What did the nun say to her? I think this part is the point that the author wants to express. But the hidden meaning of these words is rather different from person to person, everyone has their own understanding. The original text is this:

尼曰：“露珠极明，沾之立碎。霜化至洁，触之即消。”湘曰：“究竟何如？”尼曰：“日里霞光，非空非色；镜中花影，是幻是真？”

Allusions to Buddhist can be seen in this almost quote. If you ask me to translate it, then I can only say that my translation is based on the simplest and most direct meaning of the original text, and the exact meaning needs to be considered by yourself：

The nun said:" The dewdrops are so bright, but so easily broken when you dipped. Frost is so clean, but so easily disappears when you touched."

Jin Xiang said:" How should I do?"

The nun said: " Sunshine, something that see but can not touch; flowers in the mirror, is it real or not? "

#suibianlao

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hihimissamericanbi · 1 year

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hiiii lantern, amber, & quilt please 🍂🎃🧡

Hi 🫦🫴🏼🫴🏼💦 (sorry) (🫦) (sorry)

🎃Lantern: best friend lore

Sorry babe you opened up the floodgates on this one.

I have several best friends and all their lore is remarkable. One of them I've known since I was four and we bonded over our love for spiders and playing dress up and wanting to marry each other instead of boys (ew). One of them introduced my husband and I to each other when we were all fifteen. We've all kept each other all these years and have survived a lot of shit. I quite literally wouldn't be here without her. One of them is my platonic soulmate I met as an adult and she is my James in that, there is no real word for what we are to each other but there doesn't really have to be. There's a lot of choice and intentionality in our relationship.

And this doesn't even cover the iron-clad relationships I have with several other important groups of people, who are all my family in every way that matters.

I have kind of a thing about friendships I think, about not being afraid to commit to them, to let the love in, to make all the long distance work. That's something I've learned about myself in adulthood.

And I think I also have to acknowledge my high school best friend here. We are still friends and love each other very much, but our relationship is different now from what it was fifteen years ago. Sometimes I wish I could tell her she was my first love, and I wish I had had the space and the language to have told her that back then.

😬Amber: Unpopular opinion

I really couldn't care less to debate fandom characterizations so I'll make this about something real bc it's my blog and I care about this.

TW: infertility, pregnancy, family separation, adoption, queer parenthood

I have learned a lot about the realities of the institution of adoption, things I didn't know until I started looking into it after I couldn't have biological children. After literal years of research, therapy, following and listening to the voices of adult adoptees, I largely don't support adoption, at least in the way most Americans/Westerners consider it. I am RABID about the intersectionality between children's liberation and queer liberation, not to mention all the other identities that overlap when you're discussing these topics: race, class, sex, gender, religion, etc.

*THIS POST IS NOT COMING FOR ANYONE I promise. Also, just to spell it out in case there was a shed of doubt, I do not believe a set type of person or people is better suited to raise a family than another. BEING A GOOD PARENT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR GENDER OR ORIENTATION. I just happen to occupy a very unique little corner of the evangelical>infertile>queer agnostic pipeline that gives me unpopular opinions on, say, a lot of adoption tropes in queer fanfic. Tropes i would have seen absolutely nothing wrong with before learning from adoptees. I am thrilled to point people to resources and activists in this space if you would like to learn more. I am also thrilled to ignore/block/delete anyone wanting to have an argument on the godforsaken internet. That's not for this page, pick another one 😊

Tldr: adoption tropes in fic and media in general---epecially baby-on-the-doorstep/infant adoption--is not a viable happily ever after ending for a queer couple to me.

Uh.... next question, I guess??

☕️Quilt: How I take my tea/coffee

Coffee. And it's oatmilk. Not picky but I do love a nespresso with oatmilk or a nitro cold brew with oatmilk. I have also been known to order a cappuccino.

Does anyone even want to play after that dumpsterfire

#this got... very far away from me #ask game #autumn asks #blackberry tag #thank you for indulging me i hope i didnt ruin your entire day with my bullshit #on friendship #finding queerness after infertility #TW adoption #tw infertility

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baby-yaga · 1 year

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i had an argument with my mom the other day. it wasnt like... life or death. she was talking about "trans regret" or something and i dont think she was intending to be hateful, but she lives with my grandparents who listen to fox news all day long and views herself primarily as a centrist, so her views were not as compassionate as i believe she thinks they are.

predictably, things got heated. she brought up when i told her "i thought i was a boy", i guess as some sort of gotcha!!

i guess she forgot what actually happened when i came out as trans. i come out as a boy. she didnt kick me out, didnt yell at me, only told me that she "wished i wasnt, because no one wants their child to have a hard life". it wasnt that bad.

so for several months, i was out to her. i was binding my chest, open about it, i thought things were gonna get better like they did when i came out as a lesbian. after some time, she got over her initial reaction and then things were fine.

but that isnt what happened. every time id correct her when she misgendered me, regardless of how patient i was, or gentle, she would snap at me. repeatedly told me how hard it was on her. that was fine, i thought it would get better.

it never did. it seemed to get worse as time went on. she seemed like shed totally stopped trying. and whenever i corrected her, shed yell at me. if i corrected her more than once a day, i was pretty much guaranteed to get the silent treatment for at least a day.

it was more trouble than it was worth. i stopped binding around her. stopped correcting her when she misgendered me. i never brought it up again until she did a couple days ago. i think it was shocking to her that that was the reality, and not what i guess shed thought all along, which was that i simply changed my mind about being transgender.

she said something like, "what about when you thought you were a boy?" implying that if id transitioned when i came out to her, i would have regretted it. i told her "i still feel that way. if i could transition tomorrow, i would." she looked shocked. and then she looked sad. i told her, "i came out to you. and you werent supportive. so i gave up on expecting that from you, but i never changed my mind. ive known i was trans since i was 16."

in the end, i dont think we really came to a deeper understanding of each other. i told her i dont expect her to view me as anything other than her daughter, but that doesnt change the reality. she nodded in understanding, i think. she knows she cant change how she views me, and genuinely, not putting on a brave face, ive accepted that. of course i would love it if she could accept this, and support me, but i know she cant. she wont. its just not something shes capable of accepting.

im not mad at her still. if im correct, that conversation happened when i was... 19 maybe? and im turning 31 next month. i really am over how she reacted then. but i couldnt make myself just accept her throwing that back in my face, and implicitly validate that view she has of me. i havent changed and i wouldntve regretted transitioning. im still transgender. ive known that for almost half of my life at this point.

i guess i just wish that she was capable of apologizing. because id actually blocked out a lot of that time, and only remembered once she brought it up again. it was a really terrible time for me, and i dont think she understands that her support wouldve made all the difference.

#long post #transphobia //#gender man #lol its been a long time since ive used that tag

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whatwouldvalerydo · 2 years

Text

💚❤️ Part 5/9 ❤️💚

As Scarlett and Phil return from Japan. Scarlett sets out to learn more about her birth father and cuts all ties with her family.

Warning ⚠️ : cursing, alcohol consumption, child abuse,mentions of death and suicide

Phil in mention belongs to the amazing @flareshogwarts .

Japan, although fun and relaxing, was exactly what Scarlett wanted, fun. An escape from what was to come once she returned to England. As soon as she was back in the rented apartment, she called her mother, agreeing on a date in order to see a lawyer and get the document signing over and done with. Scarlett’s only request, which her mother found odd, but still complied, was to dig up from her former room the letters she received at home while she was away.

With Phil, she more or less did what he had predicted, chuck everything to just sleeping around without any other implications. So when they landed and he asked when they would see each other again, her response was as vague as possible. But by the disappointed look in his eyes and not much reaction after that, she knew he expected the outcome as well.

But she had to focus, she had to do what she set her mind out in the very beginning since returning. To stop running from her past. Actually, to shed some light on it.

But when she had to knock on the door of the address she held onto for years, she found herself hesitating. She was suddenly fearful, mind blanking before a sort of panic gripped her chest at the very thought of finding out something about her father. But then she shook her head and knocked before she lost all her fake bravado, she needed to know, she needed to at least try and help herself understand why he was the way he was.

An old woman opened the door, arranging the glasses on her nose to look at Scarlett “Hi, there’s no easy way of saying this but…”

“I know who you are Scarlett. You have his eyes.” Leading her inside, Scarlett refused the tea offered, instead circling the room, eyes setting on some pictures hung on the wall, the people in there looking back at her, smiling as they waved at the camera.

She went straight to the point, adamant on not wasting time on fake pleasantries, not like she was too good at those “If you know me, why haven’t I met you before?”

“Because your father did not wish for the magical world to touch his family.” Scarlett frowned, her grandmother offering a sad smile “Did he ever tell you anything about the Wizarding world?” however she expected the answer to be no. Letting out a heavy sigh, she nodded “I did not expect him to. Do you know what a squib is?”

“Ah, so that’s what he was? Honestly that’s so anticlimactic. So he had no magical powers, so what?”

The woman shook her head, keeping her remark to herself “We never had a squib in the family. And believe me child, with such a heavy name, to suddenly be born without the very thing that defines the world felt for him like being born without the necessary means to a normal life, despite the family fortune.”

“Being without magic and being a violent drunk are two completely different things. So what you shunned him, told him to leave?”

Her grandmother looked at her, tears clouding her eyes “No, of course not. I loved him, he was my son, but you see, he never felt like he belonged. He couldn’t go to a prestigious school or get a well paid job, not like others. He figured that he would fare better in the muggle world, but even that was overwhelming. We found out after tracking him down that he was married, had a child, but he never let his family see either of you.”

“Probably for the best” Scarlett scoffed “he wasn’t a good father or husband.”

The woman before her narrowed her eyes at Scarlett “Careful child, you have his anger.”

Getting up, Scarlet shook her head “No, this anger is mine, it’s personal. It’s nothing like his.” Letting out a bitter laugh, she blinked rapidly “I came here wanting to know about him, about this side of the family, but I don’t anymore. Because you knew and you more than likely knew what he did and you sat back and did nothing.”

“You don’t get to come inside my home…”

“I was a child.” Scarlett screamed “I didn’t deserve it, none of it. So fuck you and your prestigious family.”

A few days later, as agreed, Scarlett met with her mother, demanding the letters left behind. Once she got her hands on those, she stuffed them in her bag, entering the office without as much as a “hello” or “how are you”.

"And sign here. Done. Congratulations miss Tempest you are now the owner of a beautiful estate." her mother smiled her way as Scarlett signed the last documents, making her the legal owner of her father's land, as per his will.

Throwing the pen his way, she looked at the man handling the entire ordeal. In her eyes affair was far too less of a word in that particular moment "Perfect, now, do you know what is the retail price in that area?"

The gasp her mother let out almost had Scarlett smirking, however she controlled herself "You can't think of selling the house. What if you have a family of your own? You could move there. It just needs a little work."

Turning in her chair, she leaned in as much as the table allowed "Right, because I want that. Oh wait, I don't. I wonder why that is?" she tapped her chin, her tone crystal clear with deafening defiance "Right, if I were to have a child, I could bake cookies right next to the cabinet where my own fucking drunken father used to lock me in while you were out fucking another man."

"I was securing your future." her mother argued, no remorse visible for Scarlett to take advantage of, at least on the surface, however she continued to plea her case, or better yet make her case because she would never plea.

"I was a child, left alone with an alcoholic father. I was his fucking punching bag while you opened your legs in some random stranger’s bed and when you came home, after you took another beating the only words of comfort from you were that I needed to be pretty, not trust anyone, that money was more important. To not cry, to continue no matter what. You wanted to make me a whore when I didn’t even know what the word meant.” She raised her hand ready to slap her mother when she opened her mouth to speak, however she couldn’t reach so she smashed her hand against the table instead “You’ll listen to me. Do you know that when I was too big to fit in the kitchen cabinet while he drank his mind away cursing your name that he locked me in the closet? No, you don’t know. And God forbid I cried or asked for something. If I pissed or shit myself before you came back because I couldn’t hold it in or because I was so scared, it would be even worse the next day. And you didn’t even fucking care.”

“I did.” She could see her cracking, eyes blinking rapidly, filling with tears, tears Scarlett did not care for.

Casually leaning back, she ran a hand through her hair, the only giveaway if anyone was paying attention was that her fingers trembled, even Scarlett thinking it was overkill to think she could handle it without triggering her, but she still pushed “Then why didn’t you take me with you? Why did you leave me with him? You could have given me some markers and a coloring book and I wouldn’t have known moaning from fighting.”

Her voice changed when she delivered the next lines “I found him, I fucking found him hanging from the staircase mom. I was nine, I was just nine. I didn’t even know what was happening. I went to cook lunch for him like I always did after school. Do you even know how many times I burned my hands? You don’t, because you were never there.” Scarlett continued to throw everything in her mother’s face, the woman crying by then, a sobbing mess, however her daughter did not shed a single tear “I took the food and placed it underneath his body, because I was so afraid he would hit and lock me up again. It took me hours to actually get it. Hours mom, alone in a house with a dead body. With my father’s body. Why would I even want to own that house, let alone live in it?”

Getting up, she took the papers, stuffing them in her bag “And you have the audacity to laugh at me when I feel like my lungs are closing up when I enter a tight space. Or when I can’t stand to be at a funeral. Well now you know. And no mom, I won’t be having a family because regardless of what I want, it’s all going to turn to shit because you and dad made certain of it.”

Never look back, never cry. But as Scarlett sat alone in her apartment and put a bottle to her lips, drinking her sorrows away, she left defeated, breaking apart from the inside and there was no soul in sight to comfort her. But she had her pride, the only thing keeping her on her feet and she would be damned if she ever asked for help.

#hpma #scarlett tempest #phil baker #temper

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