#ignoring my boundaries in little ways so i keep telling myself its okay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ineffectualdemon · 7 months ago

Text

This is a good question

And I mean that genuinely

Because I was only able to do most of the necessary change like this because I was finally in an environment that wasn't toxic and was actually supportive

Now with hitting my friends when I was a teenager I trained myself out of it by paying my friends. If I hit them I owed them money. And since I didn't have a lot of money I quickly motivated myself not to hit them

But I was still sometimes violent and full of rage and my words could hurt just as much

I was not a good friend when I was young

My home life was not good and I learned bad bad ways to deal with conflict

My husband however actually came from a healthy well adjusted family. They all like each other! There is no trauma! And when my crazy ass rolled in I suddenly had a new framework and example to work off of.

It actually made my mental health worse at first because I knew my old ways of coping g with things weren't appropriate anymore but I didn't know how to cope in a stable environment

So take my advice should be taken with a handful of salt because my experience was finding people who made compromises with me. Who were willing to, and even wanted to, find a middle ground first

But what I would advice is:

1. Accept any change is going to be slow. That's okay. It's not a race and there are a lot of tools you can use. My husband and I used a safeword system so I could tap out of disagreements and conversations when I knew I was nearing the flashpoint where I would stop being reasonable and start being cruel.

It also helped to diffuse tension because yelling "BANANA!" in the middle of an argument is silly

But it took years for me not need the safeword

2. Accept you can't change some things about you and that some people will be okay with it and others won't.

I will still get irrationally angry about things. I try to channel it a way from those around me but I still get waspish and have to isolate to emotionally regulate. And my husband and child give me that space and time. I can change how often this happens and to an extent how I react but I am still sometimes going to be a bit of a bitch. Not nearly as bad as I used to be but I'm still unpleasant at times. I have a lot of anger in me still and its always going to leak out a little.

I also will sob when my husband expresses his rightful frustration with me and I have to tell him to ignore the crying and that he's allowed to be annoyed and then we have to wait until it passes and I have to prompt him to keep talking

And thats just some of my more annoying and difficult issues. And a lot of people don't like me. I have friends and loved ones who do but I am loud and weird and uncomfortable to be around and a lot of people find me off-putting which means:

3. Accept some people shouldn't be in your life and you shouldn't be in theirs

This is sometimes painful to accept but sometimes your better off with people at a distance then you are up close. I don't think that's always someone's fault either.

It still hurts sometimes though

4. Try to find people who will adapt to you as much as you do them. It won't necessarily be smooth, it won't be fast, and could be a difficult process but if you are both trying to meet each other it is better

Lastly,

5. Try to find good examples of healthy communication and boundary setting to emulate

It's really hard to change when you have only been shown how to hurt others to protect yourself. Good examples of healthy communication and relationships and setting boundaries, fictional or real, really does make a difference

But the most important thing is you have to want to change

The changes I made was not someone else saying "you have to change"

I didn't want to repeat behaviours that had been used to hurt me

I didn't want to become what I feared

And I am far from perfect and it took so much time and effort. But I genuinely think I'm better than my parents were at my age so I think it was worth it

I wish you the best of luck

Since the OP made their post unrebloggable (and blocked me. Both actions they are well in with their right to do)

I’m going to make my response it’s own post because I think the point is important

As someone who is autistic and has BPD and CPTSD and loads of trauma yes you sometimes need to change how you interact with others to keep people around

When I was 13 I hit the few friends I had when I was angry

I had to change that in order to keep those friendships

When I was in my early 20s if I was losing an disagreement with my husband I would threaten to kill myself. My husband told me it hurt him and was cruel and manipulative behaviour, because it was.

So I worked hard to change that to keep my relationship

It’s easy to say “I shouldn’t have to change for others” and that’s true to an extent. You shouldn’t change your interests or passions or dim your light. And you should have space to be imperfect and flawed and not have to pretend your ugly bits aren’t real. But if something you are doing it causing other people harm you kinda need to change that.

That’s called “living in a society”

People adapt to each other and make space for each other in their lives. You adapt to them and they adapt to you

You start being more diligent about throwing away the empty toilet roll because it really bothers them. They start warning you before they run the blender because you hate loud noises

I stopped threatening to kill myself because I was mad I was losing an argument and my husband stopped being so vocally judgemental amount media he personally dislikes

There is a certain type of person who heard the phrase “your emotions are valid” and took that to mean “my emotional reactions and my behaviour are always objectively correct because my emotions are valid and if you have an emotional response or react to what I’m doing negatively then you are wrong and you can’t be hurt because my emotions are valid”

And that’s a recipe for disaster

Your emotions are valid to feel. They are how you feel and there are reasons you feel the way you do

However, your reactions and behaviour are something you can learn to control and can be irrational

We live in a society and we as people change each other as we interact and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing

#mental health

37K notes · View notes

niallloverontheloose · 3 years ago

Text

"Learning the Lesson"

https://princeescaluswords.tumblr.com/post/659414877042016256/learning-the-lesson

@princeescaluswords:

Parts of the fandom have often expressed an irrational rage when it comes to the question “why didn’t Scott trust Derek with the secret of Gerard’s cancer and his plan to turn Gerard’s plan to have Derek bite him against him?”

Allow me to provide some insight on Scott’s motivations.

At the beginning of Master Plan (2x12), Scott has been waiting with Isaac for the police, Coach, and the other lacrosse players to leave so he can rip the door off Stiles locker in order to get things for him and Isaac with which to track Stiles down. So who should show up at that point but Derek and Peter.

Allow me to reproduce a snippet of that conversation.

Scott: What the hell is this?

Derek: You know, I thought the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard at the sheriff’s station.

Scott: Okay, hold on. He - he threatened to kill my mom. And I had to get close to him. What was I supposed to do?

Peter: I’m gonna go with Scott on this one. Have you seen his mom? She’s gorgeous.

Derek/Scott: Shut up.

Isaac: Who is he?

Scott: That’s Peter, Derek’s Uncle. Little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire, and Derek slashed his throat.

Peter: Hi.

Isaac: That’s good to know.

Scott: How is he alive?

Derek: Look, the short version is he knows how to stop Jackson. And maybe how to save him.

In case you forgot, this isn’t the first time that Derek has surprised Scott in the locker room by being in the company of Peter.

Now, Co-Captain (1x10) may have been a year before to the viewing audience, but to the characters here, Derek’s betrayal and brutal violation of Scott in the very same place the present conversation is occurring with the very same person happened somewhere at the beginning or middle of February of 2011 and this is taking place at the end of March 2011, a week or so after Lydia’s birthday party. So that scene in Co-Captain took place six to eight weeks before.

So, suddenly Derek is once again teaming up with Peter, the person – if anyone needed reminding – who not only threatened the life of Scott’s mother, but also his best friend, his girl friend, and anyone Scott was connected to, but also murdered eight people; savaged Lydia; transformed Scott against his will and violated his mind repeatedly, trying to get him to kill his friends. But hey, Scott should so totally trust Derek, right? Right? Right?

I also would like to point out a few other things in this scene that just might suggest that Scott was right not to trust Derek with his Master Plan. When Derek brings up his realization that Scott was seemingly working with Gerard, Scott explains that he was doing it under duress (which he was!) and he was doing it to get close to Gerard (which he did!). Let’s compare that to what Derek said when Scott demanded an explanation in Co-Captain:

Scott: You’re on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?

Derek: It was a mistake.

Scott: What?

Derek: It happens.

There’s a significant difference in these lines, isn’t there? Scott is working with Gerard to stop him and to protect his mother, and Derek worked with Peter because, well, he can understand how mistakes were made.

But hey, Scott, should so totally trust Derek, right? Right? Right?

I also want to point out that Isaac doesn’t know anything about Peter. Not that this should be a news flash to anyone, but Derek hasn’t been particularly forthcoming with his betas about what happened in the SIX WEEKS before he bit them. He says he told them about the hunters, but did he give them the full story about why the hunters were in town? About how he got his alpha abilities? Did he say “Yeah, my uncle became the alpha by murdering my sister and then I became an alpha by murdering him; this is normal in werewolf society – promotion by murder. Wanna join?”

Isaac’s face on the words “That’s good to know” certainly implies it would have been better for him to know this before he said yes to the Bite, don’t you think? Is anyone shocked that in a little over six months, Isaac’s going to have to demand that Derek explain why he did this to them? I’m not.

On the other hand, contrary to what thousands of Sterek shippers believe, Stiles never had to ask about what happened to Gerard. He was never surprised by Gerard still being alive and he certainly didn’t demand an explanation about why Scott did what he did. It’s almost as if he already knew about it and didn’t care. We can’t be 100% sure, of course, but the fact that Isaac, Scott and Boyd all criticized Derek for not sharing information, but the fact that Stiles never even asked Scott about his Master Plan should mean something.

But hey, Scott, should so totally trust Derek, right?Right? Right?

So, let me wax dramatic for a moment and paraphrase the last part of that first exchange.

Scott: You’ve sided with your murderous uncle again? You asked for my help and then started working with the man who tormented me and everyone I loved the moment he came back from the grave? Did you lie to me about him being dead? Did you help him come back?

Derek: I have neither the time nor the interest to explain myself to you. I’m the alpha, so just suck it up and do what I tell you. When it is in the interest of the greater good, I don’t have to answer to anyone.

Scott: Is that how werewolves work? If you have a good enough reason, you can do what’s necessary without even an apology. Thanks for the lesson, Derek. Keep what you just taught me in mind for about… thirty minutes, okay? It might be useful to you.

If Scott was a terrible person for not revealing the cancer and the mountain ash trick as a way of stopping Gerard’s plan to get the Bite and hurting Derek’s feelings, then maybe fandom might want to consider that he learned his lesson at the feet of the master of concealing information and ignoring other people’s feelings, Derek Hale. Derek has zero room to complain, which to his credit, he never does.

~*~*~

This whole post is so fundamentally wrong, vile and disgusting on so many levels I don't even know where to begin, to be honest...

We all know the Scott McCall Defense Squad bunch have an obsessive hate boner for Stiles and the Hales and think Scott repeatedly lying to everyone around him, conspiring with Gerard behind everyone's back, selling Derek and his Pack out to the hunters, handing both Matt and Jackson over to Gerard to save his own ass, giving Gerard all the information Gerard wanted on Derek and his Pack, and violating a rape victim is heroic. But them stooping as low – lower than usual –as to claim that Scott "Had A Valid Reason" to violate someone's boundaries, bodily autonomy and consent and that Scott used and dehumanised Derek to teach him a lesson and make him a better man is truly on a whole other level of vileness and rape apologism. It's victim blaming at its grossest. The Teen Wolf fandom always talk about Scott McCall's abusive tendencies and behaviour, his toxic masculinity, and his utter lack of empathy; but his fans are even more toxic than him

The only difference is that Scott McCall is a fictional bully, while his fans are real ones

#submission #anti scott mccall #anti tyler posey

84 notes · View notes

chaotic-noceur · 4 years ago

Text

so what's the deal with cake?

characters: Echo, Kix, Cody, Wolffe

summary: coming out as ace to cw boys

warnings: asexual reader, probably ooc characters (im out of practice sowwy!)

a/n: yes this is late but we're ignoring that. Happy international asexuality day fwens! @ezrasarm and I decided to drag ourselves out of our own graves to put together a little something so here's part 2 of some ace hcs! [ part 1 here ]

Echo

Knows more about asexuality than you do

You stare at him unblinking as he rambles on about the history of sexuality

“Echo… is there something you want to tell me?”

He fumbles then because he’s not about to tell you that he did some digging when Rex came out to him, it's not his information to share after all

But he also doesn’t see any other reason why he’d know this much information

“Oh, I was just doing some light reading about… sexuality” is what he settles for

Honestly gets so caught up at being able to use the information he learnt that he kinda forgets what he’s supposed to do when someone comes out to him

(he looked it up after Rex told him and he had stood awkwardly, wondering what he was supposed to do)

Eventually the ‘significant other’ part of his brain kicks in and he stutters through an apology

“That’s okay! It’s refreshing to find someone who doesn’t need me to explain it all actually.”

He smiles sheepishly at you before going through the step by step comfort guide in his head

step 1: accept and do not invalidate

“So, you don’t mind?” “Of course not!”

step 2: establish boundaries

Echo does the only logical thing he can think of and makes a list of things you’re comfortable with and things you’re uncomfortable with

“I’m still figuring a lot of that out,” you mumble when you’re a few bullet points in

"Ah, perfect interlude for step 3," he thinks

step 3: reaffirm love

“That’s alright. You don’t have to have all the answers. We can figure it out together.” He turns his head and kisses your forehead gently

step 4: ask for cuddles cuz poor bby is touch starved

“We can still cuddle right?” He says it so quietly you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t right next to him

Instead of answering, you pull his onto the bed beside you and wrap your arms around him as you let his head come to rest above your heart

Kix

gave up on having a sex life a long time ago

Is surprised when you tell him but isn’t all that bothered by it

He’s half asleep when he stumbles out of his office, only to walk straight into you

He grips your arm to steady you as you catch yourself

Seeing the state he’s in, you have half a mind to turn around and put it off for another day

Kix being Kix though, senses something's off and furrows his eyebrows before tugging you into his office

He seats you in his chair while he perches on the edge of his desk facing you

You fidget with the edge of your shirt as you gather your thoughts

Kix waits patiently, pulling your hands into his to save your shirt play with your fingers

When you finally tell him, he smiles gently at you before pulling you into his chest

“I love you,” he says as he runs his fingers along the length of your spine. “Nothing’s going to change that. I spent years telling myself that I could never have the happy future that the nat-borns dream of, but then I met you. You made me believe that I deserved love, made me remember that there is still good in the world. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

He plants a kiss to your forehead as he finishes and you tighten your hold around him

“Thank you,” you mumble into his shoulder, relieved at his acceptance. “And I love you too,” you add as you lift your head to press a kiss to his jaw

As long as you keep coming home to each other, you’d be okay

Cody

He’s slugging through paperwork when you let yourself in

Thinks someone broke something when he sees you nervously fidgeting

(it's not the first time the idiots he called family have sent you to report a broken item. He doubts he’s seen the last of it)

Sighs and moves to find the paperwork to file for a replacement of whatever-is-apparently-broken

Starts getting concerned when you stop him, even more so when you tell him to sit down

Doesn’t even bat an eye when you tell him

“You’re… fine with it?”

Shrugs as if you just told him Obi Wan had lost his lightsaber again

He’s never valued sex as much as society deems he should so he doesn’t feel the loss

Sighs when he realises how worked up you got yourself

Takes your hands in his and kisses the inside of your wrist before he speaks

“Cyare, our relationship is more than just sex. If that’s not something you’re comfortable with, then we don’t have to do anything. I fell in love with the person inside, not the appeal of the outside.”

“Commander Cody, are you saying I’m unattractive?”

Has to immediately back pedal and starts sputtering in an attempt to string words together

You laugh and pull him up for a hug, having teased him enough and honestly relieved he isn’t bothered

You stay wrapped in each others arms, enjoying the temporary peace

“So, just to be sure, the di’kuts didn’t break anything right?”

You snort and slap him across the chest

Wolffe

Stays quiet until you finish talking, squeezing your hand reassuringly every once in a while

Is genuinely confused when you ask if he still wants to be with you

“Cyare, you stayed by my side when I lost my eye. I’m not leaving you now because of this. I meant it before when I said I love everything about you, I still mean it now.”

Asks if it’s okay to hug you and envelops you when you nod, tucking your head under his chin

Gets a little insecure because so much of his affection comes in physical forms rather than words

But once you guys have a serious chat about boundaries, he finds ways to express his love without making you uncomfortable

Nose boop and forehead kisses are his personal favourite

Reassures you that it’s okay if you don’t know all your boundaries

Eventually asks you why you were so nervous to tell him

You tell him that not everyone’s accepting of it

“Some people think that we’re broken,” you say in what he can only coin as nonchalance

Your passive tone makes Wolffe grind his teeth together

He instantly wants a list of names of ‘the people who deserve to die’

Is only half kidding about committing murder

Plo doesn’t even try to stop him

Wolffe: roping the pack into his 5 step murder plan

Plo (& Fox): i do not see

You stop them before it goes too far but its endearing to see the lengths they’ll go to for you

You reward all of them with cake when they’re next on shore leave

#arc trooper echo x reader #kix x reader #commander cody x reader #commander wolffe x reader #clone wars x reader #the clone wars #the amount of time i spent trying to tag this omg #ace!reader #kay writes

145 notes · View notes

worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 4 years ago

Text

Unfaithful | Part Two

Series Summary: After dreaming of your perfect wedding since you were a little girl the big day is almost here. But after meeting the priest you start to question your relationship.

Pairing: Hot Priest x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3243

Warnings: abusive behaviour, mentions of ‘bedroom activity’ 🙈

A/N: Please be warned there will be some themes of toxic/abusive relationship in this series. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part One | Masterlist

- - - - -

I knew weddings took a lot of planning, but I never realised they took this much. Every single tiny detail requires a decision and more often than not that decision falls on the bride’s shoulders.

Purple or yellow flowers?

Napkins folded as swans or roses?

Which table can we sit Uncle David at where he won’t start a fight?

I try to get Dan involved in the decision making but his response is always the same.

“It’s up to you babe”

Speaking of Daniel, I still haven’t told him we have to meet with the Priest again today. I tried a few times to bring it up but his mood changes instantly. I’ve still got a slight bruise on my wrist from the aftermath of the first meeting, but I keep it covered. I know he didn’t mean to hurt me.

I pull the sleeve of my jumper down over my wrist as I approach Daniel in the kitchen.

“You look nice, where you going today?” He asks as he makes himself a cup of tea.

“Actually…” I take a breath “we’ve got our second meeting with the Priest today”

“What do you mean? We’ve already met him once why do we need to go again?” He doesn’t look as me as he swirls the teabag around in his mug with a spoon.

“It’s just church policy, he has to meet with us a few times before the wedding”

“Well I’m not going”

“Dan-“

“I SAID NO!” He erupts, swiping his mug off the counter so it smashes and tea spills everywhere. He storms out of the kitchen, leaving me stood in the mess he’s made. I stare at it bewildered for a moment as it sinks in what he’s done and I feel my blood start to boil.

“Daniel!” I shout as I follow after him. I find him in the hallway taking his coat off the hook as he heads for the front door “where are you going?”

“Pub”

“Dan, the priest is expecting us in half an hour! Both of us!”

“Then I guess he’s doing to be disappointed. Or not. You two got along just fine the other day, it was almost as if I wasn’t even there”

“We both tried to include you in the conversation multiple times but you just… weren’t present”

“Well then today won’t be any different will it”

He walks out and slams the door behind him.

I stand alone in the hallway for a few minutes taking deep breaths to calm myself before taking out my phone and sending an email.

‘I’m really sorry father but I’m not feeling well so I need to reschedule today’s meeting. Sorry.’

— — — —

45 minutes later.

I clean when I’m stressed. And right now I’m the most stressed I’ve been in my life so I’ve decided to stress clean the whole house. Everything. Apart from the broken mug and spilled tea. Daniel can clean that shit up when he eventually gets back from his sulk.

I’m in the middle of vacuuming the living room when something catches my attention in the corner of my eye. My heart stops for a moment when I turn and see the Priest waving at me through the window.

I turn off the vacuum and open the front door, placing my hand over my chest.

“You startled me!”

“I guess now were even” he laughs awkwardly “I bought you these”

He pulls out a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

“Why?” I ask, not meaning to sound as ungrateful as I do, as he hands them to me.

“You said you were ill, I hoped these would cheer you up”

I don't quite know how to react so I end up just staring at him blankly. The truth is I’m speechless. He watches my face and the smile fades from his own.

“You don’t like them. Shit! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even come, I’ve overstepped my boundaries.” He rambles

“No! No! I love them I’m just-” I pause as I look down at the flowers in my hand “I think this is the nicest thing anyones ever done for me. No one ever buys me flowers”

“Well they should.”

For some reason I suddenly feel like a shy little school girl. I smile at him and he smiles back.

“Anyway I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Get well soon” he turns and begins walking down the driveway. I think for a moment.

“Father!” I call after him and he spins around to face me “would you like to come in?”

He nods and walks back to me, going past me into the house. I shut the door and gesture for him to go through into the kitchen, forgetting about Daniel’s mess.

“Oops” he says when he sees it “what happened there?”

“Daniel had an accident. He can be really clumsy sometimes” I laugh it off as I busy myself making us some tea.

“Can’t we all” he says, taking a seat at the dining table “will he be joining us?”

“No” I respond, a bit too quickly “he uh, he had to go out. I don't know when he’ll be back”

I carefully carry our cups of tea over to the dining table and take a seat opposite him.

“Never mind. Thank you” he smiles and takes a sip of tea “I actually wanted to talk to you about something without Daniel, if that’s okay?”

“Sure” I shrug, stirring some sugar into my tea.

“I hope you don't take this wrong way but-” he pauses, I can tell he’s nervous to say what he’s going to say next “Are you safe?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just… I saw what happened in the car park the other day”

“I don't know what you're talking about” I say casually as I remove the spoon from my tea and place it down on the table. The priest reaches over and goes to touch my wrist but I pull it away quickly, instinctively pulling my sleeve down over my hand as his eyes search my own.

“He hurt you, didn’t he?” He asks quietly and I shake my head “I saw the way you held your wrist as you walked away from him Y/N and I could see the bruises just now.”

I can’t bare the way he’s looking at me anymore so I cast my eyes down to the table, but he continues to stare at me.

“Y/N? Talk to me, that’s what I’m here for. If he’s abusive to you-”

“He’s not” I finally speak as I look up at him again “he’s not like that, he’s kind and caring and… he would never intentionally hurt me. I just caught him on a bad day”

“And what about today? With the tea?” He gestures to the shattered mug on the floor “That wasn’t an accident was it? Is that why you cancelled today?”

“No! It’s just the stress of planning a wedding is getting to us both. But we’re fine! Honestly”

I take a breath as I smile at him, but I can see he’s not totally convinced. He looks at me for a moment before speaking.

“Give me your phone” he holds his hand out across the table

“What? Why?”

“I’m giving you my number, no one emails anymore” he jokes “So you can contact me whenever you need a chat, okay? Any time. Well apart from Sunday mornings, cause you know, church.”

“Of course” I smile

“And preferably not late. I’ve been really enjoying going to bed at 9.30 recently” he winks and we both laugh “I’m kidding. Well not about going to bed at 9.30, I do actually do that. But you can call or text me anytime and I will always get back to you. I promise”

He gives me a really sincere smile and I feel a weird flutter in my stomach as I smile back.

— — — —

Almost two hours later the priest is only just getting ready to leave after we got carried away talking. We talked about all sorts. Our childhoods, our hobbies, our fears. He told me about his fear of foxes, and how they’ve apparently stalked him throughout his life. He even told me about his first ever wedding and the drama that surrounded the family. We’ve been talking for so long we didn’t realise its starting to get dark. He opens the front door and steps out just as Daniel comes walking toward the house, I see the anger in his face as he spots the priest.

“What the fuck is he doing here!” He yells as he stomps towards us

“Daniel!” I warn but he ignores me, squaring up to the priest. I try to get between them and smell the stench of booze on him “are you drunk?!”

“So what if I am? Huh? You got a problem with that?” his breath on my face makes me want to gag “cause you know, I got a problem with this asshole being in my house”

“We just had some wedding stuff to discuss but it’s all sorted now so I’m going” the priest tries to diffuse the situation “I’ll see you both soon”

“Like fuck you will” Daniel spits before going into the house.

I mouth “I’m sorry” to the priest and he just shakes his head and smiles at me before leaving.

Back in the house I ignore Daniel’s drunken ranting, going straight to the kitchen to clear away the left over cups of tea. Aggravated that I’m not paying him attention, Daniel follows me into the kitchen. He picks the flowers up from the counter.

“Did he give you these?” He asks but I ignore him, angering him more. He rips the flowers to shreds, dumping them on the floor.

I step over them and I place our mugs next to sink, grab a cloth and some cleaner before going back to wipe down the table. Suddenly a mug flies past me, just missing my face as it smashes against the wall. I slowly turn to look at Daniel and stare him out before I dropping the cloth on the table and walking out. I grab my handbag and throw my jacket around my shoulders as I walk out of the house, slamming the door behind me. Daniel doesn’t dare to follow me, he knows he pushed me too far.

I’ve been walking for about half an hour before I realise, I have no idea where I’m going. I’m just wondering aimlessly, letting my feet carry me wherever they want to go. Eventually I find myself standing outside the church. I place my hand on the wooden doors and pause, contemplating whether to go inside or carry on walking till I find a bar to drink at. To my surprise the doors gently swing open, but theres no one stood behind them. I take this as a sign that I should go in.

As I enter the silent church and walk down the aisle I can’t help but imagine myself here in a few weeks wearing my white dress. I reach the front and turn back to stare out at the empty pews, picturing my friends and family smiling back at me as I stand with the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

A thought that used to fill me with excitement, currently filling me with dread.

I grunt with frustration as I flop down to the floor, sitting on the step with my head in my hands. Frustration turns to anger, which turns to sadness and soon I can’t stop the tears rolling down my face. I sit there silently crying until…

“You can’t be in here!”

I look up and wipe my eyes as a very grumpy looking middle aged lady stomps towards me.

“Sorry”

“No ones allowed in at night”

“The door was open, I just presumed-”

“Well it shouldn’t have been and you need to leave” she ushers me back to the doors.

“Okay, I’m going. Sorry!”

“Y/N?” A familiar voice calls and I look back to see the priest emerging from his office “what are you doing here?”

“She’s just leaving Father, I’m sorry for the disturbance” the woman answers

“It’s alright Pam, she can stay”

The woman I now know is Pam looks from the priest to me, then back to the priest again before backing off slightly.

“Okay…” she says slowly, like she suspects something “I’ll just be upstairs if you need me. Goodnight Father”

“Good night Pam” he replies.

She gives me one last look before disappearing out a door. I look at the priest, who just rolls his eyes and laughs as he gestures for me to follow him.

I walk into his office and take a seat.

“So, that was Pam” he says, closing the office door and taking a seat opposite me.

“I gathered” I nod my head “She’s a bit…”

“Insane”

“I was gonna say intense, but yeah” I laugh, feeling self conscious as I notice he’s studying my face. My cheeks are probably still blotchy and eyes blood shot from crying. There’s a small silence before he finally speaks.

“Are you okay?”

I look at him, not sure how to answer.

“Did he hurt you?” He changes the question

“No” I shake my head “but he did break another mug. I’m gonna have to get insurance out on the ones we’ve got left at this rate” I joke but he continues to study my face, before finally jumping up out his chair.

“Do you want a drink? A proper drink. I’ve got some cans of G&T hidden away in here”

He opens a cupboard and grabs a Marks and Spencers plastic bag, pulling out two cans.

“Are you sure you're a priest?” I laugh as he hands me a can “I mean you drink, you swear.. what other rules do you break?”

“I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you”

“Murder too?” I say a bit too loud, flinching as I hear a banging above me

“Oh shit, Pam! She doesn’t like me being loud. Or having fun in general. Let’s go outside”

“What about the foxes?” I tease and he shakes his head at me as he opens the door and gestures me to walk out.

— — — —

We sit on a bench just outside the church overlooking the graveyard and talk for about half an hour before I realise something.

“You know what’s strange?” I say, suddenly changing the subject “This is only really our third time meeting. I haven’t known you for very long at all but when we talk I feel like I’ve known you for years!”

“That is strange” he humours me, taking a sip of his drink

“Our conversations remind me of how Daniel and I used to be. Back when we could talk to each other properly. These days I’m lucky if we don't end up in an argument”

“And you wanna marry this guy?”

“Of course I do” I reply, slightly taken aback by the forwardness of his question “We’ve known each other pretty much our whole lives. We’ve been together so long- I wouldn’t know what to do without him”

“That’s not a reason to stay with someone, especially if they don't make you happy anymore. Being in love with someone and being dependant on them are different things.” He pauses, studying me “Do you love Daniel?”

I stare at him, replaying the question in my mind over and over again.

“Y/N?”

I realise I don’t know the answer and a feeling of panic begins to bubble inside me. I jump up from the seat.

“I have to go”

I quickly begin walking down the path to the front of the church, followed by the Priest who calls after me. I don't stop walking.

“It’s really late, Dan’s probably wondering I am so…”

“Y/N, wait please!”

I stop and turn back to look at him.

“I’m sorry if that was too much, but these are things you need to think seriously about.”

“I know! I will.” I nod and flash him a quick smile “thanks for the drink”

I hold my can up in a ‘cheers’ before turning and continuing my walk back home.

— — — —

As I walk up the driveway of my house I can see Daniel through the window fast asleep on the sofa in front of the tv. I finish the last bit of my drink and hide the can in my handbag as I unlock the front door and sneak into the house. I hang my coat and bag up and slip my shoes off before quietly climbing the stairs and getting into bed.

Laying in bed my mind can’t help but wonder to the Priest. I feel bad for the way the conversation ended. I shouldn’t have freaked out and walked off like that. He just looking out for me.

I grab my phone and send a text.

‘Thanks for not letting Pam kick me out tonight, I really appreciate it. Good night’

I put my phone back on the beside table, not expecting a reply anytime soon because its so late. To my surprise it vibrates almost immediately. I pick it up and read:

‘No problem, here for you anytime! Sleep well x’

A small smile spreads on my face as my eyes fixate on the small ‘x’ at the end of his text. It probably means nothing but I cant help but feel a flutter in my stomach.

The feeling a quickly taken over by dread as I hear footsteps up the stairs. I put my phone back on the table and roll over in bed, making out like I’m asleep. The mattress sinks as Daniel climbs into bed next to me and I feel his breath on the side of my face. At least he doesn’t smell of beer anymore.

“I’m sorry” he whispers as his arm snakes over my waist and he plants a kiss on my cheek “I’m really really sorry”

I turn my head slightly to look up at him, but I don't say anything.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. You know what I’m like when I drink”

“That’s no excuse Daniel”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry. I’m going to change, try harder for you. Okay?”

I nod my head, knowing full well its bullshit. He’s said this before, said he’ll be different but the next day he’s always back to his same old self.

“No more shouting. No more lashing out. No more hurting you. I promise.” He plants kisses on my skin with each sentence. “I’m going to be the perfect husband for you and im going to make it up to you. Starting now.”

He kisses down my jaw, to my neck and down my shoulder as he gently pulls me so I’m lying on my back. Then he kisses down my chest and slips under the duvet, kissing all the way down my body till he reaches that place only he has ever been.

I close my eyes, enjoying the pleasure that’s rippling through me as my breathing gets more ragged before I realise…

In my imagination its not my soon to be husband with his head between my legs…

It’s the dark haired, brown eyed man who’s supposed to be marrying us.

Oh my God, I fancy a priest.

part three

(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_domestic_violence_hotlines)

#fleabag #fleabag fic #fleabag imagine #hot priest #hot priest imagine #hot priest x reader #andrew scott #Andrew Scott priest #andrew scott x reader #phoebe waller bridge #nicolasfam

238 notes · View notes

rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Good for him | G.W.

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

requested, based on the song Already Gone by Kelly Clarkson

summary: Maintaining a relationship while going through grieving process becomes too exhausting for Y/N and George so they part ways. But what happens once they both take control of their lives back and meet again?

word count: 2.5k warnings: grief, mentions of death, insecurity, fluffy ending (hope i didn’t miss any warnings, in any case please let me know)

tags: @izzyyy-1 ; @hufflepuff5972 ; @pandaxnienke

You walked around the flat above the shop, and you thought about the day you helped George and Fred move in. Memories came flooding back to you, you had just graduated Hogwarts, you were all so full of life, looking bright into the future even as the war was tightening its grasp around you. But you couldn’t have expected it to take so much from you.

The door to the flat opened slowly with a creak and you saw a shell of a man walk in. You were standing in the middle of the small entry hall, clutching your bag filled with little things you had left at George’s over the years, things you would now take with you.

He came back after undoubtedly spending the whole afternoon at a pub.

You looked at him and you felt a lump in your throat as tears slowly clouded your vision. You looked at him and once again you wondered if what you were doing was right.

You loved George with all of your heart, loved him more than anything. He had changed your life in so many ways and left his mark on you. And you knew that nobody else could ever love you the same way he did. You were supposed to be each other’s forever, but grief had other plans for you.

After months, you were exhausted. You had tried and tried to help George up after he collapsed along with his brother but it got just too much. You had your own process to go through and you couldn’t do that while pouring all of yourself into a relationship that no longer physically existed. There is a boundary between trying your hardest for love to help someone get better and hitting a wall, trying to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped while losing yourself in the process. You hoped he would move on and find happiness with someone eventually. He was bound to find someone better, someone, to give him more than you could.

At first, he was angry. He felt betrayed. He resented you for leaving him when you were supposed to love him. Looking at him like that hurt you, it almost made you break and take it all back, but you couldn’t. Because love just wasn’t enough to keep you together.

So when his initial shock passed you parted your ways in mutual agreement.

As time went on you slowly got better and better. You focused on yourself, on your career and in time you felt something that resembled happiness. You felt almost at peace, but it was a start.

Almost a year has passed since your break up, and one late afternoon you got an owl and felt a pang in your heart upon reading the name.

You tried to avoid George in fear of losing all that progress that you’ve made in moving on. But you also felt that he didn’t deserve to just get ignored by you and you were curious about his intentions.

My Y/N,

I probably don’t have the right anymore to call you mine, but it feels wrong otherwise.

I missed you. I hope time has treated you well. I know it helped me heal. I know I’m not fully there yet, I still have a long way to go, but I’ve woken up enough to see how shit life is without you. I don’t expect you to just let me back into your life, but if you would, that would make me the happiest man in the world. I just wish to see you and talk to you.

Please don’t ignore this letter, I beg you. Even if you don’t want to see me ever again, please, don’t leave me hanging, I hate uncertainty. Please, before I let you go, tell me you’re alright.

Yours,

George

And so, with a shaky hand, you wrote back:

George,

You know well what we did was for the best. You should move on and find someone who will truly make you happy and give you all that you deserve. I can’t do that for you.

Y/N

You didn’t get another letter from him.

You tried to push George out of your mind again, always trying to find something to occupy yourself with. Until months later, an owl delivered a beautiful, formal-looking envelope to your windowsill. Hermione and Ron were getting married.

You’d been successfully avoiding all Weasley’s gatherings, even though Molly never failed to invite you. Christmas, Easter, all the birthdays. You knew she saw you as one of her own regardless if you were dating one of her children or not. But until now you didn’t want to take that risk.

However, a wedding was too important, and both Ron and Hermione proved great friends to you in the past. If they invited you, that meant they wanted you there. And part of moving on meant you couldn’t just avoid George forever.

You had apparated just outside the Burrow. You saw the wedding tent with some people already there, you scanned the crowd, subconsciously looking for him already. You fixed your dress and with your legs a bit shaky, you approached the entrance.

“Y/N! Hi- !” Ginny elongated, walking up to you with her arms spread wide and a huge smile on her face. “Hey, Gin,” you smiled dimly. “It’s so great to see you, it’s been so long..! I’m really glad you came,” she gave you a proper Weasley hug, one full of emotion, showing you how she really missed you. “I know it was probably not easy,” she added a bit quieter, giving you a knowing look. “But anyway, I’ll take that!” she gestured to the gift bag you were holding in your hand, “I’m on gift duty today, thank you-“

“Do I have a seat assigned?” you asked, looking at the rows of seats for guests. And that’s when you saw him, talking to someone by the wedding arch. His back turned to you, but you recognised him by his posture alone. He was wearing a dark navy three-piece suit. One could get really lost looking at this man.

“Yes, yes, Fleur will show you while I put this away. Fleur..!”

You avoided looking in his direction, afraid of catching eye contact. Waiting for the ceremony you thought to yourself you’ll have to meet him sooner or later, but you just didn’t want to be caught looking at him first. You have moved on. He has moved on.

You glided through the sea of guests with a glass of champagne in hand, some of them headed to the dance floor, some to their tables, just like you. You kept your eyes trained on where you were going, careful not to bump into someone but not looking anyone in the eye.

“Y/N,” called the voice that felt like home. You froze in spot, bracing yourself, then turned in the direction it came from.

“Hi,” he said with the tiniest smile and his eyes filled with uncertainty. He looked a bit better than the last time you saw him. His face seems to have aged a bit during this short time, his cheeks a bit hollow. But he didn’t look as tired, the dark circles under his eyes lightened up a bit. His face was clean-shaven and his hair cut. He looked very handsome.

“Hi, George,” you said the name out loud after so long.

His eyes moved down over your body and back up again, “You look beautiful,” he said sincerely. You shifted on your feet and tightened the grasp on your glass a bit, “Thank you, you look really smart.” He smiled a bit wider. There were a million things he wanted to say at that moment, but he didn’t know which one to lead with. Which one would prompt you to give him your attention and listen to the rest. “May-... may I have a dance..?” he asked quietly, barely audible in all the noise, music playing and people partying. You panicked slightly. You did not feel ready for that. “I… I was just going to sit down for a bit, talk to some other guests. Maybe later,” you blurted out the last part and regretted it almost instantly. There was a bit of a pause between you, George did his best to hide his slight disappointment. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, with a fraction of the glint in the eye that you knew well. With that, he turned around and walked away, just his head visible above the crowd.

Your heart fluttered a bit. This felt like old George.

You did your best to shake that feeling off, then noticed Molly next to one of the tables. You owed her at least a conversation.

Not for a moment has she made you feel guilty about not seeing her all this time. She engulfed you in the biggest hug, showing you just how happy she was to see you. Your spirit lifted instantly, and she hasn’t mentioned your break up and asked about your life, what you did in the meantime. Yet inevitably, the conversation somehow shifted to the topic of Fred’s passing.

“We’ve gotten better, we’re trying as best as we can. That’s what Freddie would’ve wanted,” she said with a wide smile and her eyes a bit watery. “Even Georgie’s getting better,” she nodded, looking at him in the crowd. “Sorry, dear, I promised myself I wouldn’t mention that with you…” she got a bit flustered. “It’s- it’s okay Molly,” you smiled as best as you could. “In this case, I do have to say – it is a shame, dear. You know you’re a Weasley to me but I’d always hoped I’d have you as my daughter.” She rubbed her hand on your shoulder comfortingly, “you were good for him, you know? Even Fred always said that…” You stayed silent, focusing all your might into stopping tears forming in your eyes. “My, I better leave before I make even more of a mess. Do have a nice time tonight, dear,” she gave you one last, warm smile and walked off. Leaving your mind in chaos.

“George..?” you tapped him on the shoulder gently, and even the feeling of his warmth on the tips of your fingers felt tingly. He turned to you right away with a smile that had you weak in the knees, then reached his hand out for you to take and gestured to the dance floor with his eyes.

His touch brought you comfort. He held you just like he always had, as if you picked up right where you left off, right before everything went wrong. George’s touch made you forget about everything around you, and as he led you in dance, you lost yourself. If only he’d lead you outside and into the sunset, without a word, you’d let him.

“You know, I was hoping… If you’d see me today, see how I finally got a hold of myself, pulled myself together, everything would change,” George confessed, his voice strained with emotion. The music slowed down and you were just swaying with it. You looked up at him and he continued. “I mean, why did we end things, Y/N?” he asked desperately.

You looked back down, not able to meet his eyes anymore. He went on before you could answer.

“I was a mess. I was in a dark, dark place, Y/N... I didn’t have enough grip to support you as I should’ve, so instead, I dragged you down with me.” George lifted his head high, looking up at the illuminated ceiling, trying to keep his tears from falling. He didn’t want to fall apart now. “I’m sorry. I know I told you that when we... when you left. But my perspective’s changed, I can see better now and I want to say that again – I'm really, really sorry.” “George, please...” you plead, all your thoughts and doubts from the past coming back to you. “I- I feel so bad... that I couldn’t help you,” you confessed, “it hurt me so much, but I wasn’t enough.” You tried to stifle the sobs, tears streaming down your face now.

George pulled you closer, pulling you flush against him and wrapping his arms tight around you. You tried to find comfort in him, your hands fisting his crisp, white shirt.

“It was not your fault, okay Y/N/N? There was nothing more you could’ve done for me,” he said, resting his cheek on top of your head. “...but it’s behind us now. And not for one moment have I stopped loving you,” he confessed.” “But why...?” you cried, “George, I’ve given you the chance. I let you go so you could move on,” you grasped the shirt tighter, “so you could find someone better... You deserve so much better.” “There is no one better! Give me another chance and I promise, I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how perfect you are for me if that’s what it takes..!” He exclaimed, pulling away a bit to take your face into his hands and look you in the eyes. “Just let me, please.”

All words escaped you the moment you looked into his eyes, holding such sincerity. So you just nodded and smiled weakly, feeling a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

George slowly brought his face closer to yours, leaning in he searched your eyes for any signs of uncertainty until the very last moment when your lips touched. His lips were slightly chapped but so welcoming. When you kissed him back, letting go of his shirt to slide your hands along the soft material to his chest, he brought one of his hands to your waist and used the other to deepen the kiss. The song playing was slowly coming to an end, the singer’s soft voice accompanied by delicate piano melody seemed to set a rhythm to your lips. When it ended, he held your lips together still for a moment, then pulled away.

The breath you took then was the first proper breath in years for you, you breathed George in and felt intoxicated. Your eyes darted between his loving gaze and dazzling smile.

“I love you,” he chuckled, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you back,” you said breathily, wrapping your arms around his body and relaxing into him.

George kept his promise and did not falter in proving to you how perfect you are.

The summer sun was slowly setting, the light wind pleasantly warm. Your eyes were set on his face, eyes closed and a relaxed smile on his lips, as his head lay in your lap. One of your hands was gently stroking his soft hair, while the other he held in his, on his chest. The sunset left a pinkish-orange hue on everything, making it seem even more magical.

You could stay like this forever, you thought, but Molly stuck her head out the window, motioning for you to come inside for dinner. Right as you were about to nudge George, his stomach grumbled, making you chuckle.

“Ugh, when’s dinner gonna be ready…” he groaned sleepily, opening one of his eyes. “Just now, actually. Come on, love, get up.”

So the two of you got up, going inside, hand in hand. And you were each other’s forever.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #weasley twins

342 notes · View notes

brattyfics · 4 years ago

Text

Try

Summary: Angel confesses his feelings to a friend.

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black Reader

Word Count: 1,561

A/N: It’s been a while since I posted something. I’m feeling rusty, so let me know what you think.

“Why am I attracted to toxic masculinity?” Sierra asked you, staring down at her phone screen.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” The two of you waited at the Santo Padre Mayans Charter Clubhouse for her boyfriend, Coco, to return from an errand.

“I’m trying to figure out why my pussy throbs every time this man tells me I better behave or else. Like, why is that so sexy?”

You snort at her silliness. “I don’t know. You know I don’t. The first time a man thinks about telling me what to do I give him his walking papers.”

“I forget you can’t keep a man.”

“A man can’t keep me. Remember that. There’s a difference.”

“Right, that’s what happens.”

You rolled your eyes but kept talking. “I don’t think that’s toxic of him. I think he’s just setting boundaries. You can be…a handful. I’ll just put it that way.”

“Don’t put it. Just say it.” Sierra had that wild glint in her eye, the one that usually spelled trouble.

“You can be a lil’ bit reckless sometimes. A lil’ wild. Coco needs to regulate that ass.” You reached behind her to playfully swat her ass.

Coco chose that moment to show up, a big, crooked grin on his face. “Why you touching my girl, mano?” He stepped up, crowding you like he would some random dude at the bar who had done the same.

“Do you want to fight?” You asked, taking on your best Southpaw stance. Coco matched you, bouncing on his soles for a moment, but then shook his hands dismissively. “Nah, you got it. My bad.”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t think so. I’m glad I didn't have to lay you out in here today—“

“What are you yapping about?” Angel Reyes slid into the tiny space between you and Coco. His inky black hair was gelled back into a masculine style, patches of grey littering his full, overgrown beard. He looked as handsome as ever, and you felt yourself heating up in his presence.

You had too much of an ego to let him know that, so you kissed your teeth at his choice of words. Yapping, like you were some annoying little puppy dog. If only he knew. He’d be the one acting like a puppy if you got your hands on him.

“I’m just kidding, mamí.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you, and you felt your heart catch in your throat again. The smallest things made you clam up around Angel, but you needed to get a grip. He was so handsome but so unavailable.

Coco stepped around you to greet his girl, wrapping her up in a bear hug and tonguing her down in the middle of the clubhouse. You made exaggerated gagging noises, but they ignored you, getting reacquainted with each other. “You would think they were apart for longer than a couple of hours.” As much as you teased them about being codependent, you were happy for them. Neither of them had an easy go at love, but for some reason, they just clicked.

Angel dropped a heavy arm around your shoulders, the smell of teakwood, leather, and cedar washing over you. “Come on.” You didn’t need to be told twice, allowing him to guide you towards a table. The two of you settled into a corner, huddled closer than two platonic friends probably should be.

You missed EZ’s patch party the week earlier so he gave you a recap. You were in the awkward space of being physically close, though you had never been intimate. Your eyes kept locking on each other, and then quickly shifting away. It was nerve wracking not knowing the other person's limit—how much eye contact was too much or too little.

He asked about a cousin of yours that he went to high school with and that made you feel more relaxed and open. You faced each other, using your respective hands to gesture wildly as you shared stories animatedly.

Eventually, your hands found their way down to his thighs, using them to balance on as you yelled something to Coco over his shoulder. He seemed content with your closeness, so you kept your hands on his thighs even as you sat back on your stool.

“Let me taste.”

“What?” He wasn’t sure he heard you right.

“Your beer, idiot.” You mumbled under your breath as he handed over the cold bottle. Down went the gold liquid, scorching your taste buds. “Eck. Still nasty.” You sat the bottle down, your hand coming up to cover your chest.

“What, you don’t like beer? Why did you drink it then?” He laughed at your sour expression.

“No. I can do tequila, wine, vodka, hell, anything but that. I don’t know why I insist on torturing myself like that every time. I don’t know, I guess I’ll try anything a couple times.”

“Anything?” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically.

“Ha ha. Almost anything. Let me make that clear.”

“Noted.” Angel tosses the rest of his beer back, eyeing you with a mischievous look in his eyes. Then he’s in your face, arms moving to circle around your midsection. Your knees feel a bit cramped from where they’re sandwiched in between his own and the stool.

“Is this something you’re willing to try? Me? I mean.”

The words stun you. You knew he was attracted to you. You were both drawn to each other whenever you got together. That much was obvious. But being attracted to someone and wanting to be romantically involved with them were two different things. Angel had a new baby and a complicated relationship with its mother. He had a lot going on, and you weren’t sure it was smart to insert yourself into the middle of that.

“Coco told me—“

“He told you what? I’m going to kill Sierra—“

“Nothing crazy. Just that I might not be alone in my feelings. I know you’re worried I don’t have my shit together, and I’m not going to lie and say I do, because I don’t. But me and her—we’re done. There’s nothing between us now but my son.” It concerned you that he couldn’t say her name. Was he still hurt? Bitter?

“A baby is a big something, Angel…”

“You’re right about that. You are.” An unruly strand of hair caught his attention, his calloused fingers brushing gently across the side of your face as he moved it. “I love my son more than anything else in the world, but that doesn’t mean I have to be with his mother. For a long time, I was forcing something that wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t want to see it then, but trust me when I say I know better now. Adelita and I are over.”

You looked down into your lap, wringing your fingers as you took in the information. He sounded genuine, but how many men had told a woman the same thing and then went back on their word?

From what you understood, Angel had been in deep with Adelita, and anyone that knew him knew he loved hard. If Adelita wanted to get back together, would he be able to resist?

You were conflicted, but you leaned into his chest for comfort as the butterflies flew wild in your belly.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Your knees felt uncomfortable against the stool so you stood. Angel pulled you in further, and you felt relieved that you weren’t alone in your emotional turmoil. He wanted you just as close as you wanted to be. You practically melted into his firm chest like mush. He felt warmer than the average person and you wondered if it was just in your mind. Sighing, you willed yourself to not think about anything for a minute. To just enjoy the moment while it lasted, for however long it lasted.

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded muffled and far away even though he spoke right above your head. Angel was apologizing, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“No, you’re not.” You looked up at him to confirm your suspicions, and his delight was so contagious that a shy smile warmed your own face. “I am.” He did his best to school his expression, but it was no use.

“Don’t be.” The wide column of his neck was right there, so you pecked it, wondering how it would be to place a less innocent kiss there. “I’m--- I feel the same, Angel. I mean, I’m still worried about the other thing, but I’m willing to try. I want to trust you.”

“And I want you to trust me. Tell you what, you trust me, and I’ll trust you. There will be a time when the shoe is on the other foot. I’m going to have to suck it up and trust you at some point.” Angel was possessive by nature, but you felt more secure hearing him talk about the future. He wasn’t looking for something fun, or short lived.

It just so happened, you weren’t either.

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @ifoundmyhappythought @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen

ANGEL TAGLIST

@thesandbeneathmytoes @claytoncardenasbabymama @adaydreamaway08

#mayans mc #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x black reader

195 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

Note

Um one thing i wanna ask is why do you want penny to stay a robot? She would have been hacked again as it wouldn’t make sense for someone not to try it again... ignoring the pinnochio allusion thing cause of course RWBY shouldn’t follow fairytales like a script, but just thinking about practicality as the problem would just occur again.

Also, people complaining about how its a problem they cured her illness (having the virus)... why would you want her too keep the virus when its literally about to kill her and the cure is right there???? I dunno some of the complaints have me a bit confused and i need clarity on them.

Like, If they didn’t grab the relic for themselves, they would have been hunted by ironwood for penny, she would have been killed for the powers to open the vault etc... if they went to the vault with penny without their plan, she would have died... its all a lose lose for penny to me at least

Questions are genuine and I’m not trying to be rude or anything :)

Happy to explain, anon! :D

I’m going to break this up into three parts: The claim that people are upset about Penny’s virus going away, the idea that she’s in more danger as a robot, and the assumption that she had to be made human to fix this problem.

The first is the easiest to tackle simply because I haven’t seen any of this myself. I don’t know why someone would “want her to keep the virus when it’s literally about to kill her.” My guess would be that there’s been some miscommunication at play. I’m not saying just because I haven’t seen these takes doesn’t mean they don’t exist, but rather that I have seen a lot of critical takes since Saturday and they all boil down to the fans being upset that Penny’s android identity was removed, not that the virus was removed along with it. Of course we’re happy about that additional outcome, we just believe it would have been possible — even easy — to achieve that same outcome without taking a core part of Penny’s identity along with it (more on that below).

Secondly, if one of the main arguments for Penny getting a human body is “It’s less dangerous” then I personally don’t find that persuasive. Yes, it means no one can try to hack her again... but it also means Penny can die all the horrible, messy human deaths that she was previously immune from (within the boundary of how long Pietro can give her aura, anyway). We saw it happen on screen. Penny was able to go from this

to this

purely because she was an android. Penny, due to her synthetic body, was able to be torn apart and then — pretty casually it seems, based on Pietro’s comments — be put back together, given more aura, and booted up with absolutely no downsides. Penny shrugged off death with a smile! No human body can do that. So yes, she’s vulnerable to hacking as an android, but she’s vulnerable to everything else as a human, things like Nora’s scars and Yang’s lost arm, things that android!Penny would have shrugged off. Each body has its benefits and its downsides, with my personal belief being that, from a combat standpoint, a synthetic body has far fewer downsides and far greater benefits. But that opinion aside, objectively I don’t think a human body is intrinsically safer for Penny in the long run, especially not after her biggest moment in the series was coming back from the dead. She can’t do that anymore.

Which then touches on our third topic with the question: Why couldn’t the show have fixed android!Penny in a way that ensures she can never be hacked again? See, we have to remember that RWBY is a constructed, fictional story. Nothing “has” to happen. Or rather, nothing has to happen until the writers impose limitations on the text that the viewer expects them to adhere to. For example, if you impose the implied rules of 1. “Our four main characters will make it to the end of the series” and 2. “A character, without aura, will die from a spear through the gut,” then RWBY has to find a way for Weiss to survive Cinder’s attack (rule #1), but that solution can’t be, “Weiss is just randomly okay after a deadly injury, I guess” (rule #2). Hence, we get the solution of “Jaune unlocks his semblance and heals Weiss for her” and it works! It’s a solution that viewers like because it obeys all the rules, both overt and implied. Meanwhile, the problem with Penny’s solution is two-fold. The first is that it contradicts the entire journey she’s been on of “Android girl learns that she’s real and human just the way she is,” which I’ve already spoken about extensively (there are other posts on that), but the second problem is that the show ignores other possibilities and makes up new rules solely to reach this ending.

Why is Penny made human? Because of Ambrosius’ rules. Why do those rules exist? Because the writers said they do in this episode. It’s not that they introduced these rules episodes or even whole volumes ago, thereby requiring that they adhere to them once Penny’s life is suddenly caught up in them (like with the Jaune example). Rather, the viewer only learned these were limitations while Penny was being fixed. So the writers could have just... not included those. There’s no reason why, in developing Ambrosius’ abilities right then and there, the show couldn’t have made them into something a little different. Have Ruby go, “We want you to magic up an anti-virus program that will heal Penny completely, with no chance of the virus returning. Thus, when you create something new, it doesn’t matter if that program disappears. The virus is already gone!” If the response to that is, “But Clyde, Ambrosius can’t create something he doesn’t understand” that’s a rule that the writers just made up. No one forced them to suddenly impose that limitation. It was a choice. Or even if we have to have it for some reason, you’re telling that the group gets to have the schematics for their escape route — essentially inventing a teleportation system because Whitley looked at airship flight paths for a few minutes — but they can’t have Penny or Pietro draw up an anti-virus program? There’s no reason why these rules couldn’t have been tweaked to cure android!Penny.

There’s also no reason why Ambrosius needed to be involved at all. As just mentioned, Pietro exists and many fans (myself included) thought he would be the solution. Imagine for a moment we had a slightly different version of these events. Penny’s virus is briefly halted by Jaune and, finally given a moment to breathe, she asks where her father is. Last she saw, he was floating in a dead Amity after Cinder’s attack. This reminds Ruby that hey, Pietro made Penny! He’s just as smart as Watts and is far more knowledgeable of her systems. Maybe he can help? So the group heads to Amity and, due to the same techno mumbo jumbo that launched Amity in the first place, or had Klein heal Penny after her crash, Pietro says yes, he can get rid of the virus. Better yet, he can slightly redesign Penny so that she’s made un-hackable in the future, using (again, mumbo jumbo) parts from the now useless Amity. But it will take time. It’s then that the group receives Ironwood’s message and learns that they don’t have time. The reality that Penny will not be cured before the hour time limit necessitates that they come up with a creative way of dealing with Ironwood. Enter Emerald. Her semblance can make it seem like Penny is there, despite her being fixed by her dad miles away. We get an extended fight with Ironwood and, at episode’s end, the new and improved Penny catches up, ready to open the vault for them, this time of her own free will.

Now, obviously I just made this up off the top of my head — far from perfect — but a scenario like this:

Remembers that Pietro exists and lets him/Maria as an assistant do something for the plot

Re-uses Amity now that it’s just a floating pile of junk metal

Creates a scenario where we get to see Penny and Pietro confront the fact that she was created to be a tool (sorry I originally made you so easily hackable/put a self-destruct in your brain)

Maintains all the main story beats like Penny’s near escape, Ironwood’s message, and using Emerald’s semblance

Makes space to tackle other issues like the complaint that Ironwood was taken down too quickly

Achieves the desired result of healing Penny without taking away her android identity

Proves that, because we can easily come up with another solution, the idea that she “had” to become human is inaccurate. There were always other options

Hell, we can even ask why the story bothered with a self-destruct threat in the first place. Seriously, why did Watts do that? I have my own headcanons, but the show never says. This act is the entire BASIS for Penny’s conflict and the show didn’t bother to a) say why he’d do this or b) explain why he’d do this when Salem would presumably like having a Maiden to control. It’s counterintuitive and the show never grapples with that. We have no canonical answer here. More importantly, what else changes if Penny’s self-destruct order is taken out of the narrative? Absolutely nothing. She’s still hacked and struggles to keep Amity afloat, still flies to Ruby, still wakes up and needs to be calmed down by Nora, still tells Whitley her order, still fights the Hound, still tries to escape, still tells Ruby to kill her so she doesn’t open the vault, and Ruby still realizes that opening the vault might be the answer. They could have taken Penny to the door and nullified the virus by letting her do what the virus ordered. Penny is fine now, they snag the Relic, and the group proceeds to save all of Mantle and Atlas. The only thing this self-destruct sequence brings to the narrative is a reason to give Penny a human body. That plot-point was introduced solely as an excuse to give Penny a human body. That never had to happen. It’s not that the writers had a story where, by the rules already in place, they truly had to change Penny to ensure they didn’t lose her, it’s that the writers carefully crafted a story that existed to justify their desire to change Penny. That was always the end goal. They decided they wanted this to happen and that’s the problem here. That they took a character who has spent her entire, fictional existence learning to love herself as she is and crafted a bunch of unpersuasive, needless, and contradictory scenarios specifically to get Penny to a place where they could erase all that.

There’s no version of Penny that exists who truly had to get a human body to survive because Penny is a fictional character. Everything she does and experiences is thought up by our writers. Thus, at some point they thought up the idea to erase her android identity for a completely human one instead — the part a lot of people are upset by — and then made some messy attempts to write a story to justify getting that ending.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #Anonymous

47 notes · View notes

himikiyo · 3 years ago

Text

in saecula saeculorum // himikiyo week day 3

Himikiyo Week Day 3: Vice + Virtue

"If you’re so against the idea of people getting hurt, you should have thought twice before summoning a demon."

Read on AO3, DRA, or under the cut.

Demons did not exist in the modern world. That was common sense, accepted by nearly everyone save fringe conspiracy theorists and fanatics of all types. Those who would believe in something so patently unscientific, so laughable, would be deemed worthy of ridicule themselves. There was no use for the supernatural when humans had triumphed over the natural world itself.

That was the party line, anyway. It was taught to children in schools, passed on in social interactions and media. Even those curious enough to seek out old tomes and uncover the stories within were motivated to dismiss them as legends. Stories of such things were fascinating, but they were from a less educated time. When people didn’t understand the world around them, they were motivated to devise stories of evil beings to explain their misfortunes.

None of it was real. Humanity’s biggest danger was itself.

Locked in a dusty church basement, one girl felt differently.

“Angie hopes you find the answers you seek, Himiko-chan! Remember though, Kami-sama might just smite you down if you aren’t careful! Even as powerful as he is, he doesn’t take threats lightly.” Setting down a small stack of books and clapping her hands together to brush off the dust, Angie took a step back towards the door. “Oh, and lock up when you’re done, okay? Technically Angie isn’t supposed to leave anyone alone here.”

“Yeah, got it. I’ll be sure to take care of everything.”

“In that case, good night!”

Just like that, she was gone. Himiko stayed where she was and waited until the patter of Angie’s footsteps faded out entirely, leaving only silence behind. It was a little creepy alone in a church at night, she had to admit. Best friend or not, Angie’s religious devotion was unnerving even in the daylight. Himiko was more interested in other aspects of the arcane. Things that wouldn’t be taken so lightly if discovered. For the experiments she wanted to perform, the church basement was safer than her apartment in more ways than one.

Summoning a demon was risky at best.

She already had the proper page marked. The candles were lit. The offerings were nearly ready. The demon — whose name in the book was an illegible scrawl, written in a language Himiko had never seen before — would appear or they wouldn’t. Her years of study had convinced her that these creatures were out there, lurking beyond the boundaries of normal human perception, but if she was wrong, this would be the time for that to be proven too.

Her hand trembled as she flicked the light switch off, plunging the room into dim candlelight.

The shakiness made it more difficult to draw blood, scarlet droplets scattering onto the page she was reading from as much as into the bowl they were meant for.

This was an academic experiment, yes, but it was a deeper part of her that would be devastated if it failed. A part of her that thought someone non-human might provide the kind of companionship and understanding she’d always lacked. Angie was sweet, but she couldn’t honestly say they saw eye to eye.

She carried on with the ritual, occasionally glancing around the darkened room to look for any changes. Nothing.

“Maybe...this isn’t going to work,” Himiko said softly to herself, gaze dropping to her own bloodied arm. “Maybe everyone’s right. If demons exist, we don’t really know how to summon them. Not anymore. They aren’t coming.”

Visually, not a single thing changed after she said that. She was alone. From the emptiness, though, an unknown voice made itself heard.

“Not coming? But I am already here. You humans really are blind.” A whispery chuckle followed those words, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“What? Who said that?” She turned, fumbling for the lights.

“Yumeno Himiko, I have answered your call. It’s been many years since a mortal last pulled me from the depths, but I am, as always, delighted to serve.” Though the voice was disembodied, not providing any visual clues to help her, she could clearly imagine an evil, toothy grin, like a monster waiting for its prey.

Ignoring the stinging pain still shooting up her arm from the ceremonial cut, she finally slammed her hand against the light switch, bathing the room in brightness. The sudden change made her eyes water, but even before she adjusted, she could tell it did nothing to illuminate her new companion’s location.

“Further introductions are in order, aren’t they?” the voice continued. “Demons’ true names tend to be a struggle for such limited creatures to pronounce, so I took the liberty of selecting a human name for myself a few centuries ago. I am Shinguuji Korekiyo.”

Taking a few steps over to the counter, Himiko grabbed the bandage she’d prepared and pressed it to her arm.

“Um, that’s nice, but...would you mind being...visible, Shinguuji-sama?” she asked meekly, being as polite and deferental as she possibly could. It was beginning to occur to her that she might be in over her head.

“Ah. Yes.” Just like that, she was suddenly aware of a presence behind her. Before she could turn to look, she could feel something brushing against the back of her neck. Someone’s nails? They felt sharper than that though, more like claws. A shiver running down her spine, Himiko tensed, feeling unnaturally warm fingertips graze along her pulse point. The heat wasn’t only coming from their hand though. It seemed to radiate from their entire body, like she was standing in front of a fire. Like if she leaned just a little closer, it might devour her.

After a moment, the hand retreated. She turned, and in the half second it took, they were no longer right behind her. Instead, she saw a figure leaning almost lazily against the opposite wall. For the most part, they appeared human. Lanky and incredibly tall, the way they held themself betrayed strength far beyond what their build might suggest. The mask covering most of their face made it impossible to know whether the smile she imagined was truly present, but the sparkle in their eyes suggested it might well be.

“Thank...you...” she croaked, not wanting to say anything that might make this demon — because yes, it was abundantly clear they were one, appearances aside — upset with her.

“Humans can be broken so easily,” Shinguuji mused. “Both physically and mentally. I’d almost forgotten how entertaining it is. Now, tell me, what is it you summoned me for?”

“To prove I could, I guess. That was part of it, anyway. And to learn from you. Studying magic on my own isn’t the same as having a master. And the third reason, I guess, is just...companionship.” Arm nicely wrapped now, she had no excuse to look anywhere but at them, though her face was burning with embarrassment.

“Study? Well, perhaps you’re smarter than you seem choosing me then. I’m partial to research myself. I do hope we can have some fun outside the classroom too, however.” Himiko knew without a doubt then, mask or not. They were definitely grinning, almost leering.

“What kind of fun do you mean?”

Moving closer again, they replied, “Shall we kill together? There must be people you want gone, yes? I can make quick work of them.”

That sent a chill down her spine, canceling out the pleasant remnants of warmth almost immediately. She was no idiot, of course. She understood that demons were violent by nature. But she didn’t call them for anything like that. They...couldn’t insist that she help them get that kind of ‘fun,’ could they?

“What? No. I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she said, pretending she couldn’t hear her own voice shaking. “Sure, there’s people I don’t get along with, but killing? And...besides, should you really be saying things like that in a church?” Himiko didn’t believe, especially not in Angie’s god, but it seemed as good an excuse as any.

“I don’t fear gods,” Shinguuji said dismissively. “They have no power over me. If you’re so against the idea of people getting hurt, you should have thought twice before summoning a demon. My kind isn’t meant to linger in the mortal world for long without reason, and it’s been so many years since I was last given a chance to...sate my appetite.”

“No, we can’t,” she repeated. She could hear the glee in their voice, like they were enjoying not only the prospect of murder, but the experience of winding her up over it. She was probably giving them exactly what they wanted, but she couldn’t help it.

“Well, if you’re so steadfast in your beliefs...I could always kill you instead, yes? We signed no formal contract. I’m under no obligation to keep you safe.”

In that moment, she was acutely aware of everything around her. The occasional flicker and buzz of the fluorescent lights, the musty basement smell of the air, and more than anything, the imposing presence across from her. If they really wanted to kill her, there would be nothing stopping them. But they were just watching her — beautiful, dangerous, and all too satisfied with themself.

Shinguuji laughed, closing the remaining distance between them. A hand cupped her chin, gently guiding her to meet their eyes. They were a brighter, more intense amber than she’d ever seen in a human being.

“Flattering me to keep yourself alive? Well well, that’s one way to go about it. I’m pleased to hear that you find me so beautiful.”

“I didn’t say that!” Their grip, if it could even be called that, was exceedingly light. It wouldn’t be remotely difficult to pull away and avert her eyes, but she didn’t. She was captivated.

“You didn’t need to. You thought about it. So then, what will it be? I have no real need to kill you, not when I can gain energy from you in other ways. And you’re so entertaining besides. If you’d simply allow me to possess you, you would have access to power beyond your wildest dreams.”

“And what’s the catch? There’s no way something that lets you...feed on my energy doesn’t have any negatives.” She chose not to comment on just how close they were now. The warmth of a lithe, not quite human body pressed against her own was oddly comforting.

“There is no catch. However, if it would make you feel better, I’d be willing to write up a formal contract.”

“I’ll look at it then,” she said grudgingly, one of her own arms starting to slip around them in return. “But before that, no weird possession or mind control or anything. And no murder.”

“Mm, I’ll make you fall in love with it yet. Perhaps when we seal our contract with a kiss?”

“We don’t need to do that.”

Shinguuji laughed, once again backing off from the overly intimate invasion of her personal space. “Indeed we don’t. But don’t let it be said that I didn’t offer.”

“Let’s just go home for now. People won’t notice that you’re not human, will they?” Maybe, just maybe, she’d end up taking them up on it.

#himiko yumeno #korekiyo shinguji #himikiyoweek2021 #himikiyo #danganronpa

6 notes · View notes

hualianff · 4 years ago

Text

T.F.T.A (I.H) III 《II》

Irodori – Hiroaki Tsutsumi “I can touch up some patches of the walls that look washed out?”

“Uh, no you don’t have to-“

“-oh! And I can vacuum the carpets in the morning before work, during the day, and at night once everyone leaves so the floor will always be spotless-“

“No, really, that’s a bit much-“

“Does anything in your office happen to need dusting?“

HX sighs. This human never stops.

First, it is the food and drinks he delivers to the employees on each floor–without being asked to. His employees are filthy slobs when it comes to dealing with their customers as it is; the extra vacuuming would admittedly be appreciated. Though, HX has no complaints when XL personally brings him fresh coffee and pastries from the bakery on the corner.

Then, it is the excessive cleaning that has somehow become one of his biggest priorities, courtesy of XL. HX supposes this is what he needed a custodian for in the first place. But he can’t help but wonder how YY found a human who is so damn eager to be worked like a slave.

“Mr. Xuan, what cleaning fluid brand do you prefer the bathroom floors to be mopped with?” Xie Lian asked, still sitting in the lone chair in front of HX’s desk, one hour after he first entered. Here he was, going through a laundry list of sterilization questions while HX was still trying to process just how ugly the human’s work uniform was.

He’ll have to do something about that.

HX was, by no means, generous or fashionable. Hell, he currently had on all black–the inner and outer robes being different shades–and cheap sandals that exposed just how pale his skin was. He sported the same skull earrings since first getting his ears pierced, and he kept his hair back in a simple, low ponytail that felt like a rope of lead at times.

They surely must make quite a pair, like the dark and mysterious goth teen meets the wrongly-dressed happy-go-lucky old man. There is no doubt HX beat XL in age by a couple of hundred years, yet, XL somehow still gave off wise-beyond-his-years energy. A man who has seen and been through plenty of life’s obstacles.

Such fragile beings, humans were.

“Um, Mr. Xuan?” XL spoke up again when HX didn’t answer his twentieth question right away. “Is it alright if I call you that? Or should I call you Black Water?”

HX’s frown deepened, sincerely considering how XL should address him. It was not like XL knew the truth behind the title Black Water, and for that reason, it felt improper for the human to speak a name he was not aware held so much power.

“Mr. Xuan is fine,” HX says curtly.

“Oh, okay. Mr. Xuan it is.”

HX exhaled with thinning patience. He placed his elbows on the desk, preparing to shoo his new employee away so he could work in peace.

“You can just call me Xie Lian. I hope to be of the best assistance to you, Mr. Xuan,” XL adds quicker than HX can respond. “By the way, about those cobwebs surrounding the hallways lights-”

Seriously, was this guy out of his mind?

From XL’s perspective, he believes he hit the jackpot with this job. Not only is it incredibly low-stress compared to his previous hustles, but XL often finds himself to be most useful in keeping Black Water company. Yes, XL is aware HX strives to be as antisocial and non-confrontational as possible. And yes, a boss-employee relationship probably shouldn’t cross a certain line into the best friend zone.

But whenever HX happens to be nearby, and XL bounds over with a dozen updates on his work and random stories that he can’t help sharing, HX begrudgingly stays and listens.

“See? Doesn’t dusting make everything nicer to look at?“ XL questions with a sunny smile, gesturing to the bookshelves on one side of HX’s office. He was a quarter of the way through with this task when his boss walked in.

HX merely grunts, then plops down in a chair different from the one guests typically sit in. It appears to be a new addition to the room. In XL’s eyes, more furniture means more growth in self-care for one’s personal space. In this case, HX’s working environment.

Naturally, XL approves with a satisfied nod. He also can’t stop the next words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“By the way, I noticed your tastes in literature differ across many subjects: Folklore, politics, ocean science…”

HX raises an eyebrow at this comment.

“What about it?” he asks, a little blunt, a little curious.

XL continues dusting in between the shelves. He faces away from HX and is glad his boss can’t discern his nervous expression. XL knows he has his nosy moments, knows that he often unintentionally crosses others’ boundaries in order to connect, which irks people all the time.

Maybe this is one of those moments.

Still, XL wants to try.

“Do you want to tell me about them? I’m quite the avid reader myself, and some of these titles look positively compelling,” XL says, skimming a hand down the exquisite spine of one of the books. He turns his head just enough to sneakily eye HX’s reaction, who hasn’t changed his seating positions the last forty minutes.

HX’s arms remain crossed over his chest, staring straight ahead at the wall of bookshelves XL insisted on dusting and tidying. His obsidian eyes noticeably sharpen, jaw slightly relaxing.

HX doesn’t say anything for a long minute. One minute bleeds into two, and then three.

XL sighs, a bit disappointed. He doesn’t want to push HX’s limits, nor initiate conversation he is in no place to discuss. Quietly, XL turns his attention back to work.

But as XL squats down to straighten out some books on the lower shelf, the image of black robes gliding along the floor catches his eye.

HX walks to one of the middle bookcases, caressing his fingers along his vast collection until he pauses on a book with an emerald green cover and characters glimmering in gold. He plucks the novel out of its homely crevice, opening the cover to flick through the worn pages.

XL takes this as his cue to approach, waving around the feather duster in anticipation. HX shifts to show the human the open book, finger pointing to the section header.

“This one is a myth about a parasitic ghost who latches onto its host and feeds off of sadness, sorrow, despair,” HX explains slowly, deliberate with his words. XL’s mouth opens in an “oh” shape, expressing interest in his features.

HX brings the book closer for XL to see.

“It’s one of my favorite reads,” HX murmurs, focusing on the text. XL blinks in astonishment, feeling especially honored that HX shared this with him.

It has only been one month since XL started working at Paradise Deals, and despite HX’s “I don’t care” attitude when it comes to basically anyone ever, XL definitely considers them to be friends.

And that is honestly the most he could ever ask for.

“Then I’ll be sure to put it on the top of my list,” XL chirps, tapping the book with the duster.

The corner of HX’s mouth tugs upwards.

*** Flor y Sangre – Sophism, Isabella LeVan, A Million in Vermillion One day, as XL rides the elevator up to the eleventh floor, it stops at the third floor first. The doors open to reveal a man with a green dress shirt tucked into black-and-white checkered pants. The same checkered-patterned suit jacket hangs loosely over his shoulders.

The man’s dark hair is long enough to cover his ears, making him appear quite young. Side bangs obstruct his eyes, but upon seeing XL’s face, the strands fly out of the way as he shakes his head in surprise.

“YOU!” The man seethes out, stomping into the elevator with clenched fists.

“M-me?” XL looks around, then points to himself questioningly.

“What are you doing here!? And what the hell are you wearing!? Am I supposed to fall for a dumb disguise like this?” The stranger fires back, voice getting more high-pitched as he jabs an offending finger at XL’s nose.

XL is beyond confused. He glances down at his custodian attire, the nameplate thankfully still in place. It’s in navy this time, courtesy of Black Water’s kindness is providing XL with more than one work outfit that doesn’t automatically suck the soul out of whoever sees it.

There is an awkward beat of silence.

The elevator doors close, XL now pressed with his back against the wall, nervously fiddling with the mop in his hands.

“Do I know you?” XL asks, forgetting his manners in a panicked state while searching his memories, trying to recognize the man in front of him.

“Fucking rude, as always,” the man sneers, giving XL a nasty stink-eye before backing off. “If you won’t reveal your true self now, I’ll just follow you until you do.”

“Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” XL rushes out, sneaking in a few bows here and there. “Perhaps you’ve mistaken me for the wrong person?

The man crosses his arms as if seriously contemplating XL’s words. His eyes shift from XL’s face, to his attire, to the mop, and then finally, up towards above XL’s head.

He decidedly shakes his head, unconvinced.

“No, I’m not that gullible. How convenient would it be that the first time I see you in who-the-fuck-knows-how-long, you’re stuck like this,” he hisses lowly. “Weak. Useless. Ignorant.”

Now that makes XL’s eyebrows rise into his hairline. He’s been harshly insulted before–regarded as pitiful and lacking potential in many areas–and likes to think his skin is thicker because of it. But to be directly attacked by a man whom he has no memory of meeting before? XL can’t help but feel like this is entirely uncalled for.

How does this man even know him?

The elevator doors slide open, having reached the eleventh floor. On the other side stands Black Water, wearing an expensive-looking suit with navy lining and silver cuffs. His foot stops its tapping on the ground where it had been denting the carpet.

“Xie Lian, I’ve been looking for you,” Black Water says, completely ignoring the other man in the elevator. “I’m meeting with a few clients on the east side of the city, and I need you to handle the documentation.”

He holds out a huge briefcase with the same fish symbol as the ones on the doors in the hallway. As XL steps out of the elevator to accept the briefcase, an interested “Xie Lian, huh?” sounds from behind.

“Pardon me, sir, if I can’t recall our first acquaintance. But did you need something from me?” XL asks while turning around, attempting to hold out an olive branch once more. Next to him, Black Water pulls out his phone and mindlessly scrolls down the screen.

“I can’t believe you actually did it. Got yourself a name and everything,” the man says, disbelief coloring his features. Then his eyebrows pinch together in a sudden display of anger. He locks eyes with XL, those amber eyes looking eerily similar to his own. “You disgust me.”

Before XL can react, the elevator doors slam shut instantly with a loud boom, masking the sound of fingers snapping right next to him. XL jerks at the sound, hands white-knuckling the briefcase.

“Do you know who that is?” XL asks his boss, tilting his head. This encounter has left him awfully confused and a little worried about his job. Would this affect what his boss thinks about his impact in the workplace?

It seems this trouble is needless when HX eyes simply narrows his eyes at the closed doors, a stormy expression on his face.

“No one to concern yourself with.”

Bonus:

XL finds out QR is the lower-levels’ boss, who holds an apparent grudge against him…? Once QR had come across XL in the elevator, he sticks around like an unwanted pest, somehow having the time to harass XL many hours a day.

XL: “Why does this guy keep following me around and insulting me?”

XL eventually cleans QR’s floors too because he has time and it seems QR won’t leave him alone.

HX: “Give me back my custodian!”

QR: “Fuck off! Why are you so defensive about mortal scum?”

XL, wiping down the doors, whistling: (´∀｀*)

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven offical's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #he xuan #qi rong #cerdrabbles #TBC #one of he xuan's books is titled 'how to get away with murder' no cap #xie lian and he xuan best friend agenda #guess who suggested he xuan should get a custodian in the first place #it's the same person who he xuan leeches off of to pay xie lian his salary #protect xie lian at all costs he's gonna need it #I'm writing this instead of doing online college #college is a scam

22 notes · View notes

itsallabigmess · 4 years ago

Text

Crescente | Part Seven

A/N: I am terrible with endings. I never know how to end a story and it was no different in this one. I wrote different versions and this part is actually a combination of all of them.

Editing was made very lightly. I hope the mistakes left are not too distracting.

Thanks, everybody for the patience and thank you so much for those who enjoyed this story. Special hugs to those who commented on the stories. Seeing your reactions and comments really made me happy.

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

The advantage of staying in a luxury resort is that you didn’t have to go far to drown yourself in alcohol. The concierge of the resort had a list of nightlife hot spots on the tip of his tongue. The only problem: they were all clubs, and you never liked parties. Not really.

You end up joining the ones your close friends throw because they are usually at their places and you rarely have to deal with someone who is not already part of the group. But you don’t see those as parties. Just excuses to hang out and have fun with the people you like the most.

To be honest, you didn’t mind spending the night at the villa, the same way it has been every night of the trip. Is being in the same bed with Jinyoung that started to feel… risky. But you were ready to give in into the idea of having dinner by the pool again when the young man in a suit standing on the other side of the counter recommended having drinks at the bayside bar of the resort.

A DJ is playing RnB songs and you are glad that your simple red summer dress doesn’t make you feel underdressed compared to others. The bar was, much like the villa, right in front of the beach. Some of the tables were scattered in the sand, all already taken. You and Jinyoung sit on high leather stools where the lights are slightly dim, a small round table in between you. The yellow-ish light of the lounge makes your skin look even more tan.

A smiling waitress comes just a few seconds later, bringing the menu. Her gaze lingers a bit longer on Jinyoung before she leaves and once again when she comes back with sodas and a plate of empanadas. Honestly, you can’t blame her.

You’ve been avoiding making eye contact with Jinyoung since you watched him come out of the water hours ago, the sun shining behind him, enhancing all his perfections. At the moment you didn’t know if you should be mad at him or yourself.

The truth is, you never saw Jinyoung looking bad. You try to search for distant memories and even when he looked messy, he was appealing to anyone who dared to stare a minute longer. The difference is that now your entire body seems aware of how incredibly attractive he is. Even with him wearing a loose white dress shirt tucked in his black jeans, sleeves rolled up, seems too much for you to handle. So you keep your gaze away.

Jinyoung knows you too well to notice that you’ve been acting weird all day, but he also knows that if you wanted to talk about it you would. This new quiet, afraid to speak your mind side of you is new to you both. Strangely, you find yourself back on the first day of the trip, when you didn’t know exactly how to be around your best friend.

But in between bites and sips – and the regret of not asking right away for a cocktail instead of coke – you feel his stare.

When you finally glance back, you regret having told him to shave. “What is it?”

‘You are frowning,” he says, resting his elbows over the table, enlaced fingers under his chin. “You’ve been frowning since the beach, and I’m having a hard time trying to translate it.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“Think out loud. With me.”

His eyes weight heavy over you, just like his words, even though his tone is gentle. How can you though, share your thoughts when you cannot even make them coherent for yourself?

“I’m thinking we should get drunk,” you say, giving an unconvincing shrug, tapping on the cocktails menu that your waitress kindly left behind.

You glance at him again, quick enough to see him rolling his eyes. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“I mean, I’m sure we can handle a couple of drinks without needing adult supervision.” You wave at the waitress and asks for the sweetest drink you could find, while Jinyoung stays with the same half drank soda in front of him.

You nod outside, where some people are dancing and laughing and trying not to spill their drinks. “Let’s drink just enough to makes us want to dance.”

“You know I don’t dance.”

“You do when you drink,” you countered. You look up again, raising a brow. “You are frowning too, you know. And I know it’s because you don’t want to be here.”

The waitress comes back with a tall glass with something orange and yellow inside. Sweet to the point you can’t taste most of the alcohol in it, just as you expected. When you look at Jinyoung again, there’s amusement to his expression, but you know he’s waiting for you to say more.

“Not here, in this trip,” you continue, “but here, in this bar.”

“No, I don’t want to be here.” Jinyoung lowers his hands and straightens his posture. “And don’t even think about telling me to go back to the villa by myself. We both know I’m not going anywhere.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you feel the apparent permanent frown on your face increase.

There are a few minutes of silence before you decide to turn your entire body away, holding your drink with both hands. Your eyes travel around the small crowd and stop at a couple being swaying along with the song, sharing touches and kisses. Envy starts to boil in your stomach. After breaking with your ex, you promised yourself you wouldn’t look for another relationship anytime soon. And now there you are, wanting exactly what that couple is having. Wanting it with Jinyoung.

You let out a little growl and suck on the straw of your drink. You sense movement on your side but only notice Jinyoung has left his sit once he is standing in front of you.

“You barely spoke to me all day or even looked at me,” he says, taking the glass from your hands and placing it to the side. With the tip of his thumb, he lifts your chin until your eyes meet, letting go of your face only when he is certain you won’t try to look away. “Better,” he whispers, placing his hands over your tighs. “I don’t want to be here because I still don’t feel like being around people, and I already reached my quota for the day. I’m looking at the only person I care to be with.”

Your heart jolts inside your chest. Can he notice that you forgot how to breathe?

“Look,” he continues, “I don’t mind spending the night here as long as you stop ignoring me.”

“Okay,” you say faintly and then shake your head, laughing at how stupid you have been. Because this is you and Jinyoung. You were supposed to be yourself with him, as you have always been. Even if your heart forgot how to behave normally around him.

“I’m sorry for being all weird today. I just…” you smile up at him, finally letting your shoulders relax. You do need to talk to Jinyoung about the mess that’s going on inside of you. Just not at a bar. “We don’t need to stay here all night. I mean, we can still drink at the villa, right?”

“We do have a pool just by ourselves that haven’t been used yet.”

You open a bottle of wine and don’t care to grab any glasses before going back to the pool. You catch Jinyoung unbuttoning his shirt and remind yourself you should not be focusing on his collarbones. “What are you doing?”

“We are going for a swim,” his belt is the next thing to be taken off.

“Oh you were serious about it,” you turn away when Jinyoung starts to unbutton his jeans, too flustered to keep looking without the treat of jumping on him. You gulp the wine and sit by the edge of the pool, letting your legs slide inside the water. It’s pleasantly cold, compared to how warm the weather still is. Or maybe is just the alcohol making its work.

“I’m starting to worry about this sudden obsession with getting drunk,” Jinyoung sits by your side, taking the bottle of wine from your hand and taking a sip. He puts the bottle to the side and slides inside the pool. “Come on.”

You don’t resist when Jinyoung pulls you inside. You let your entire body submerge, feeling all the cold once to get used to it, but comes to the surface with a groan. Jinyoung must have done the same because when you look at him again, his hair is dripping.

His arms come around your waist, and you are pulled against his chest, your arms going over his shoulder. “This is okay, right?”

“Yeah,” you say brushing his hair back, “This is nice.”

“This morning,” your hand freezes on air for a second and Jinyoung waits until your eyes meet his again before continuing to speak. “I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

“That’s okay,” you say without thinking. You have been doing too much of it all day long. Jinyoung was giving the chance to finally open up and it would be stupid not to take it. “I’m glad that you did. I wanted you to.”

You stare at his lips and the memory of the early hours of the day gives you goosebumps. Jinyoung’s arms tighten around you, his breath mixed with yours. “It’s getting harder to fight this urge to kiss you.”

Your breath gets caught up in your throat. For a minute, everything else gets out of focus besides his lips and how hard your hard is beating. You are already leaning forward when you finally remember how to speak again. “Then don’t.”

Your hand stretch behind his neck and Jinyoung leans forward, closing any distance between your lips. You let out a sigh of relief as if you have been waiting for this kiss your entire life. Jinyoung smiles and his lips slide against yours again, changing from exploratory to needy. It’s been only a minute but you decide that you will never let Jinyoung anyone else. How could you, now that you know how they feel?

Your legs come up, wrapping around his waist when you feel Jinyoung pressing even further against your body. With eyes still closed, you feel his hands slide to under your tights. Slowly, Jinyoung walks you out of the pool and sitting by one of the sunbeds with you his lap.

His lips move down your jaw, and then he is kissing the same sport on the crook of your neck that will so easily drive you to madness. This time, when you moan, instead of stopping, Jinyoung bares his teeth on your skin.

Still exploring your body, Jinyoung’s hands move up legs, waist, and back, coming down again and moving to the front, thumbs pressing just below your breastbone. The soaked dress glued to your body does a poor job at hiding how turned on you are but you still gasp when he starts to undo the buttons over your chest.

But then he stops with a groan, forehead pressed just under your collarbones and his hands fall back to his side.

“What’s wrong?”

It takes a long insufferable minute before Jinyoung finally lifts his face, and another one until he opened his eyes. “I don’t want you to feel like this is me looking for a rebound.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

“I don’t want to be a rebound either.”

“You are not!” a part of you gets mad that he would even consider the possibility. “Jinyoung, I told you, I was over him way before we broke up.”

“I know. It’s just…” He sighs, and you see the reflection of your messy thoughts in his eyes. “Y/N, you wanted me to come on this trip.”

It takes only a heartbeat to understand what he is implying and even before you can speak, you see him start to regret… something.

“Jinyoung, I asked you to come with me because when I thought about the person I trust the most, I could only think of you. Do you think I planned for this to happen?”

“No, I…”

You don’t let him speak, frustration taking over you. “Honestly, if I was going to invite someone to, I don’t know, hook up with me, I think I would be smart enough to try to find someone that I knew wanted something of sorts.” You lean your head back, covering your face with both hands. “Someone that had feelings for me.”

“I had feelings for you,” Jinyoung says softly, gently tugging on your wrists down.

“What?”

“Back when we first met, in college.” he smiles shyly, looking down your hands, playing with your fingers. “I was crazy about you.”

“I didn’t…” you furrow your brows, uncertain to how to respond. You met Jinyoung just a couple of weeks after starting college. Your roommate convinced you to join her at a party only to leave you alone to run after some guy she has been obsessively talking about. Jinyoung was the one person who at some point appeared by your side, looking as out of place as you did. You started chatting until Jackson appeared, bored out of his mind, and in desperate need of food. You three spent the rest of the night talking and getting to know each other over pizza in 24h diner. You three became almost inseparable at that very same night. They are still the only friends you have from your college time.

You try to look for evidence of his feelings towards you. Anything that you might have left slipt because you were too clueless towards people’s feelings but mostly because “I had a boyfriend when first met.”

You were still with your high school sweetheart on your first months of college before deciding that a long-distance relationship wasn’t going to work out.

“I know. I mean, I only learned about it after a while, when you told you were going to visit him for a weekend.”

You remember Jinyoung was the first person you told about your break up. And then he and Jackson doing their best to distract you even though you were not overly sad about it. You also remember Jinyoung having a girlfriend not long after. And then you also started seeing someone else. Thinking hard about it, this is the first time you and Jinyoung are single at the same time. Whatever it’s going on between you now, could it have happened before?

“Hey, don’t do it,” he says, cupping your face. “Don’t overthink it. We both had relationships, we both fell in and out of love with other people. It’s not like I have been silently longing for you over years.”

“But then, this…”

“This,” he says matter of factly, hugging your middle, “this me wanting to kiss you, to be with you is new. Is much more than what I felt back then.”

Your heart feels two times bigger, violently beating in response to this kind of attention it never received before. Jinyoung leans forward but waits for you to meet his kiss. You start to melt again over him, under his touch, the careful way his fingers slide up your neck, tilting your head until he can kiss you any way he can.

“I do feel,” growls, lips brushing against your jaw, holding your hips in place after you roll them. “that we should take things slow” And seeing the questioning look in your face, he adds. “Just so there are no regrets. I don’t want you to think I’m like him.”

He means your ex, clearly, by the disgust in his tone. You have to control yourself to not laugh at how stupid it sounds. Jinyoung is nothing like your ex. He is nothing like ever man you ever date. His much more.

“Ok. Let’s go slow,” you nod, giving one more peck to his lips before moving back.

Or at least trying. Jinyoung’s hands hold you down on his lap. “I’m not done kissing you.”

---

You wake up the same way you fell asleep: in Jinyoung’s arms, face against his chest. His fingers are still tangled with your hair and when you try to move, he hugs you tighter. Jinyoung spent the night shirtless – it was just easier this way, considering you just kept sliding your hand under it. Without being distracted by late-night kisses, you could finally see all everything you were touching.

You slide your fingers up his chest, around his shoulders, and down his back a few times. When you look at his face, you notice the gentle smile on the edge of his lips.

“You are staring,” he says with his eyes still closed, voice hoarse.

“It’s hard not to.”

Jinyoung laughs softly, opening his eyes for a brief moment, before closing them again. “Sleep well?”

“I have never slept so comfortably,” you confessed. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the trip exactly like that, in bed with him.

“Then why are you awake? Are you freaking out?”

“No. A little bit, yes.”

Jinyoung laughs and opens his eyes again. His fingers slide down your back and then up your arm, copying your movements on his skin. He waits for you to speak.

“It’s just… it’s us. What happens if this goes terribly wrong?”

“It won’t exactly because it is us. Y/N, you know me better than anyone and I don’t think it’s arrogant enough to believe I know you better than anyone else” he says with a smirk. “Things won’t be much different from what they are now.”

“Except for all the touching and kissing?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung rolled over you, his body weighting heavenly over yours, his mouth easily finding the sweet spot on your neck that keeps making you weak. “Except for that.”

“I think you are obsessed with that specific part of me,” you say breathly, your hand moving up to scrape his nape.

“I’m obsessed with all of you.”

A shiver goes up and down your body. “So you are saying…” you try your best to put words together. “that this is not just a vacation fling.”

“It doesn’t need to be,” he lifts your face, so you can see his eyes when he says “I don’t want it to be.”

“Me neither,” you pull him closer again, saying against his lips “I’m not done kissing you.”

And you don’t think you will ever be.

---

Jinyoung was very successful in bringing you to his level of laziness for the rest of the trip. But he was also amazingly good at finding new places to explore that were not as popular among tourists, and so you could enjoy them without having to fight with a crowd to have some fun.

On the last day, he rented a car and drove you to another hidden waterfall that looked too beautiful to be real. You swan and had a little improvised pick-nick, and shared endless kisses under the sun

Being with Jinyoung like that also felt too good to be true. Were the years of friendship the culprit for making you feel both terrified but also so easy to fall deeply for him in just a few days? You tried to imagine what would have happened if these sentiments had arisen before. Would it have worked? Would you still be together, or even be friends?

Not having Jinyoung in your life was the scariest thing in the world.

He could feel your uncertainty, of course. Even if you didn’t say a word about it. And instead of using words, Jinyoung would caress your hair, and kiss your face and show you how safe you were in his arms. Exactly where you belonged.

As much as you loved you the almost completely free vacation, you were glad to be back at home. Even if know you had a new awareness of how small your apartment it is. But no matter how luxurious the resort was, or even just the villa you stayed: it could never be compared to the feeling of being home.

You had enough cleaning to do and clothes to wash to keep your mind busy for a couple of hours and not think about the downside of not having Jinyoung there. You had to go back to work the next morning and he promised to take you to dinner right after.

It was only when you finally fell into bed that you allowed your mind to feel gloomy. You flicked through the photos of you together and did your best to focus on the delicious moments shared. You were about to fall asleep when your phone buzzed.

“Do you remember what you said on the first night of the trip?” he asks on the other side of the video call, in the darkness of his room. Shook your head slowly against your pillow. “When you got to the room you said ‘the bed is too big for just me.’ It makes more sense now than it did then.

“You should come over, then,” you say. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping in your arms for another night.”

You wouldn’t mind sleeping in his arms forever.

“Don’t tempt me,” Jinyoung lets out a heavy sigh.

“I think I’ve done so, unconsciously, since day one,” you admitted, even if you weren’t sure you meant the first day of the trip or the day you met him.

You didn’t speak much, both tired and with shared knowledge that once the sun was out, life would be back to normal. Except that everything would be different.

And for a moment you didn’t feel so scared.

#jinyoung #park jinyoung #got7 #got7 jinyoung #jinyoung fluff #jinyoung angst #got7 fluff #got7 angst #got7 scenarios #Jinyoung scenarios #kpop scenarios #friends to lovers au

133 notes · View notes

roonilwazlibimagines · 3 years ago

Note

Where for art min favorite blog? How ist thyne doing

I love this ask so I’m going to tell you my life story on it!! 🥰🥰

Read this if you want an in depth explanation of why I sometimes post 50+ things a day for a week and then nothing for a month and where this account is going

If you don’t, basically, this blog stresses me out due to the content and the fandom and sometimes I really need a break from it and so I will try to be more active, but I I’m sorry if I don’t answer your ask.

Also I basically dump all my emotions in this post so if you cannot handle another 10+ emotions then don’t stress yourself out by reading this ❤️

So my life story is that I finished high school last year when I restarted this blog (to those who have been here since like 2014/15/16 - I can’t remember :/ - I love you, and if you’re new, I still love you) and it got like really super big and I was loving it and I was happy to write because I like writing and this allowed me to do it for fun rather than at school where it was much more intense.

And I was posting lots for anyone who remembers and then I started uni and it’s had its ups and downs but it has mainly been downs which I’m sorry about.

I recently just had my uni break and I was super excited to be more active on here, but then my state went into lockdown and I cannot stress enough that I am okay, but I kinda just went into a slump where I didn’t want to do anything and just had really bad brain fog and just really didn’t want to post stuff on here.

And I think the reason I am okay is because I am just being kind to myself and doing things that make me happy but that mad me sad because then I was wondering if coming on here makes me unhappy?

Because it certainly doesn’t. I love interacting with you all and hearing your thoughts, but there’s a lot of stuff on this account that I’ve been dealing with ever since it got big last year and I’ve tried to stop worrying about it, but I’ve decided I will tell you guys in an attempt to be open and so you understand that when I go away for a few weeks, this is what is giving me anxiety and preventing me from coming back on here.

The first thing is that I really don’t like JK Rowling and do not support her and a lot of the cast have not been in the greatest in the whole ‘Jk Rowling is actually kinda shitty (understatement) do you still support her’ debate. And I do try to ‘remove the artist from the art’ but I’ve never thought that was a great argument to begin with and I feel kinda hypocritical internally judging people for it when I’m doing it as well. I think the difference for me was that I grew up with Harry Potter and then for this to kinda come up like 10+ years later it’s kinda left me at a bit of an uncertain point in where my values and ethics kind of lie.

I’ve said this lots and I’ll say it again, going on my tumble feed makes me very upset. And long story short, I know I have control over what’s on my feed and I can get rid of the stuff I hate, but then I would be following no one. I think the reason for this is that I have a horrible social media presence because I don’t like social media, it makes me feel bad about myself and two years ago I did my best to stop interacting with it and I forget that this is still a type of social media.

But that’s not my problem, my problem is that I have amazing mutual a who always talk to me and I live in guilt every day because I don’t always reply or message first and I am forever sorry about that and the guilt eats me alive everyday.

Another big thing is that I deal with a lot of 18+ topics on here and I love it, don’t get me wrong, this is a thousand percent a place of no judgement, but constantly being exposed to this ‘hypersexualised’ stuff is sometimes really draining for me.

And I always get so scared writing things because I’ve never had sex lol and I’m only 18 and I’m not a scientist and I don’t want to give out the wrong information or imply something about sex that’s not right and can be harmful and I try to do my research but I’m not perfect and sometimes I forget to add things like wearing a condom and it genuinely keeps me up at night.

Because I know there are a lot of minors on here and that does make me a little uncomfortable and I hope that they are making the right choices online because I am a product of reading smut at too young an age and at the moment I am trying to recover from that (because it really messed me up) and being constantly exposed to nsfw content on here doesn’t always help and I’m kinda scared it will ruin all the progress I’ve made.

As well as that, the characters in HP are high key minors and last year it didn’t really bother me that much because I was still in school and they were still in school so the age gap was like at max a few months, but now I kinda think of it in the way that I would never date anyone in high school now and they’re like in high school and it doesn’t sit right with me just because of where I am at in my life currently.

So I am constantly dealing with all of this stress and this is no ones fault at all, I just really wanted to be completely transparent so you know why sometimes I ghost you and then the next minute I am your overly attached girlfriend.

So that’s my past and present, but for the future, I think I just need to better regulate my asks. And please don’t feel bad and don’t feel like it’s ‘a bad ask’ or that you made me uncomfortable because it isn’t a bad ask, I am just going through some stuff and I won’t ever blame you for making me feel uncomfortable because I have not stated my boundaries and to be fair, my boundaries are very in depth and I would have to write another essay like this in order to explain them.

So please continue to send and ask me anything and everything, but I do apologise if I do not answer and know that I still love you ❤️

Also I’m sorry if this does not make sense, I have not read over this and kinda just said everything that came to my brain and admitting these fears are actually kinda scary to me because I’ve been trying to ignore them so I’ll come on here more, but I feel like I really needed this I’m sorry

Also sorry to the anon who was probably just expecting a quick and funny response I love you ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#the story of my life

7 notes · View notes

bellaslilpapercut · 4 years ago

Text

Eclipse reread part 3 bewr bewr bewrrr! Covering the entire rest of the book in ONE post so buckle on in baybee:

1. Absolutely everything about chapter 15 (wager) is disgusting. To a certain extent I appreciate how successfully meyer captures how frustrating assault is as a woman, how futile it feels to fight against it. But at the same time the way she handles the aftermath is unbelievably disappointing and infuriating. Charlie doesn't get up to help his own daughter, Jake trails after Bella into the house and sticks around, there's just no relief or reflection that feels satisfying. Bella can ask where the justice is when she finds out Jake isn't aging but just ignores Charlie defending her assailant? And to some extent I get it, I've shut down after assault before to the point where it took years to recognize that some of the things that happened even were assault. But when there's a pattern within the series of men being narratively rewarded for assault and abuse and women being punished for reacting to abuse it feels like the narrative is reinforcing the status quo of women<men. I'm not stupid, I understand when a book is trying to make me uncomfortable and I don't need villains to be punished to know that they're villainous. This doesn't come across that way at all. Meyers handling of misogynistic abuse and violence lack the nuance to make me believe that she sees this violence as something to be critical of rather than something that just happens to women. And again, because it's a pattern in her writing, women getting no reprieve from gendered harm, I don't believe she's making a statement. There's just no self awareness and that's the key difference between a story like Brave New World or Lolita and Twilight.

2. Also this quote that precedes the assault is just so so frustrating:

Bella is not mean for setting boundaries! She isn't stringing you along! I would love to hit meyer in the head with a rolled up newspaper. Anyway.

3. Bella keeps saying things like "this would be annoying if it weren't so scary" in regards to having her clothes stolen by vampires that want her dead and having to lie to people around her, again because dozens of vampires want her dead. And y'know after the third time she said she would be annoyed if she weren't scared I'm just left to believe she isn't scared at all. I don't feel rising tension, the newborn army feels like a minor nuisance and even after they connect it to victoria (who still hasn't shown up at all) I'm just like...okay well get on with it then! Meyer makes bella "shudder" (I'm still tempted to make a comp of every time she shudders in this fucking book lol) instead of showing us her actual fear. I don't believe she's scared, I don't care about the "threat," and I don't believe anything bad will happen to Bella. There are Literally No Stakes here. I'm not invested in this story at all.

4. Alice is a bad friend lmfao

Girl, you're psychic you know she wanted to wear red why are you just dressing her up for your brother.

5. Okay returning to point 3 because I read chapter 17 and had an epiphany: Bella says she isn't scared for herself and I get that I do. But smeyer also hasn't shown us that she's selfless- just that she doesn't care if she dies. If bella actually cared for her human friends, in any way, I would believe that the newborn army was a scary threat because the people she loves might get hurt. But I don't believe that she cares about that I only believe that she- like Edward- has a weird martyr complex.

6. The Mirror chapter also reinforces this. I can’t stop thinking about how much more impactful it would have been narratively if it had been Angela in Bree’s position (because she’s the only human friend Bella seems fond of but if Bella showed interest in any of the other humans, honestly any of them would do). Imagine the moment where the newborn vampire first lifts her head to look into Bella’s eyes and it’s someone she knows. Someone she cares for. There should have been consequences for Bella beyond “Jake got some bones broken and now I feel bad :(” which was also a shitty punishment because smeyer is inflicting physical trauma on an indigenous character just to make Bella feel bad. Okay. Anyway, it would have built the tension I was missing for- quite literally- over 300 pages of this book if Bella’s friends and classmates and Fork’s residents had been going missing the whole time. Suddenly, at the end of the battle, there’s Angela. Or Jess. Or Katie fucking Marshall. Someone Bella knew should have been there and maybe I would have cared about this book at all.

7. Going back in time to this quote which comes before the battle:

UGH!!! SHUT UP SMEYER! She literally poisoned Jake’s character from the moment she made him a main character and she has zero self reflection to see the damage that she’s causing here. I’ve said before that I don’t think Jake’s actions were a romantic deal breaker and that stands out now more than ever after reading Eclipse. THIS is the moment that Bella realizes she’s in love with Jake too. Smeyer not only sees abuse and aggression as romantic, she also lacks the braincells and reflection to see that she’s playing directly into racist stereotypes. Edward got to grow up- marginally- but Jake had to remain aggressive. I still don’t think she ever once meant to villify Jake- I think that there was no way in a hell a racist woman could ever successfully portray an indigenous character. His tenderness is tainted by the aggression she forces on his character and in the end he never had a chance because- again- he was being written by a racist woman with fucked up views of indigenous people.

8. Okay, I get it. They’re like Cathy and Heathcliff. Fine. I buy it.

This isn’t even the last time she compares them to Cathy and Heathcliff. Kate Bush isn’t gonna write a song about you, meyer! Give it a rest! (Also lol at “like wuthering heights”)

9. Jumping right to the end here because to be completely honest the only actual event in the entire book was the newborn battle. Jane was a bitch, fine. Edward talked at Victoria and bored her to death (presumably) and the action never felt very action heavy. I knew if from the “best friend (and werewolf)” line that this book was presumably written for idiots given how little is left to the imagination at any given time. I can’t stand when books treat the audience like dummies and I especially can’t handle YA books that do this. Teenagers aren’t stupid!! Young adults can pick up on subtlety in literature!! AND young adults can handle suspense and action. smeyer doesn’t do either well and the editors never once said “hey you know teens aren’t stupid right? like your audience will pick up on hints that you scatter you don’t have to forcefully explain everything?”

10. Smeyer can’t stop interrupting herself even in the very last sentence of the book proper:

What, pray tell, is wrong with “Where it would stay for the rest of eternity.” Why did you have to sow doubt in the sentiment right after Bella made her For Real Final Decision???? And why the em-dash!? Again: the editors of the twilight saga are my nemeses but also my favorite conmen. What were they paid for?

11. Back to the editors real quick: if i was given a draft of eclipse I would instantly say: this story is almost 400 pages of nothing, you need to play with the structure of the story. You need to build suspense and if that means playing with POV like you randomly start doing in the epilogue, then do that. Or you can play with the plot. Nothing happens for 300 pages. It takes 300 pages to get to the newborn battle and nothing that happens before the newborn battle makes me feel worried about it. Again, kill off some humans, raise the stakes, do SOMETHING. This was so painfully slow to read because meyer tried to center this book on a love triangle that I didn’t even believe in myself. And even then, it took 14 chapters for the love triangle to get real action (as in an Event, not necessarily physical action).

12. The epilogue. Oh man. Was the r-slur really so acceptable in 2007 that not one single editor questioned its use? I won’t type the quote in full but Jake refers to his fake arm sling as r-word. Like??? What? And THEN smeyer has him call Leah a “bitter harpy.” Shut up.

In conclusion, nothing felt like a bigger waste of time than Eclipse. Genuinely, to be completely honest. Two (2) important things happened, at least in Bella’s narrative (I agree with Vinelle that the Volturi debacle was important from Carlisle’s perspective, it adds nothing to Bellas and Bella learns nothing important from it.): 1. Bella made a decision, she chose Edward. Who could have seen that coming? Whaaaat? 2. Rosalie told Bella her backstory. Not that Bella even used that to reflect on her decision to become a vampire but hey, at least it felt like an important moment. Jasper’s backstory only mattered for the newborn battle which didn’t matter at all (and it never informed his character and no one ever brings up that the confederacy was a terrible dark stain on US history (along with the rest of US history but that’s a full dissertation or two on its own)). I can’t imagine a way to improve this book as a standalone book. You could split up the plot (using that term loosely) so that New Moon and BD are both a little longer and BD a little more organized. But without completely changing the plot beats in Eclipse, its just pointless.

#eclipse reread #saga reread #long post #very very long sorry lolol

12 notes · View notes

hypnoticwinter · 4 years ago

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 21

The Sergeant sprays me down next and I keep my mouth shut and breathe shallowly through my nose, but the same raw chemical odor still forces its fingers down my throat and makes my guts churn. I cough and the Sergeant gives me a rough smile that says something like ‘grin and bear it, soldier,’ and then he’s done and moving on to Klaus.

Ahead of us is the gate to the copepod barrows, a vast wall of metal set directly into the flesh of the Pit, with one of the ubiquitous submarine-style doors and a host of warnings slathered over the it in bright, eye-catching shades. One warns of hostile arthropods ahead and states that the buddy system is mandatory; another warns that the barrows are not area mapped and to exercise caution; another says that free fire is authorized and encourages rangers within to double-check their ID tags and to make sure they check their targets; a third states in bold letters that it is a felony for both civilians and non-combat-trained park personnel to enter, punishable by a fine of up to $1000, imprisonment, and administrative penalty, if applicable. A fourth states that there is nothing beyond this point worth dying for and practically begs the reader not to enter. The paint on this last example is peeling and the latter half of it looks stained by some kind of ichor.

My heart, which has been residing comfortably in my throat this past hour or so, does an ugly little squeeze and for a moment I feel somewhat faint, but I close my eyes and focus on the pounding in my ears and the feeling passes after a moment. I still have the tingles of anticipation racing up and down my arms, and my hands are quivering, though I can’t tell whether it’s out of fear or out of adrenaline overload.

Elena sneezes again next to me and I look over at her, then lean in. I know I shouldn’t ask, I know it’s practically pointless because the answer is obligatory, but I ask her anyway: “Are – are we going to be okay in there?”

Elena shrugs and looks at me with bleary eyes. “We’ll be fine,” she assures me, but there is an edge of tension in her voice that tells me the real answer isn’t nearly so cut and dried. “We have an…understanding with the copepods. We don’t fuck with them and they don’t fuck with us. Plus the pheromone spray will make us smell really unappetizing.”

“Even when we march right in and bother them?”

“When there’s this many of us they’ll think twice about starting anything.”

I neglect to mention that that cuts both ways. Or any of the other dozen holes in that logic that I can see. What if a copepod isn’t as smart as we are and thinks it can just scuttle up and grab one of us? Then one of us shoots it and they all take that as the signal to go ham on us? How smart are copepods anyway?

I swallow hard and push it out of my mind. Between the pheromone spray that the Sergeant is treating all of us with, including Joker, and Elena’s assurance that they do this all the time and it’s only somewhat dangerous, I am almost able to delude myself into thinking that we’ll be okay.

No, stop that. No negative thinking. These men and women (okay, well, woman) do this for a living and they’re paid very highly for what they do. If they say it’s safe, it’s surely safe.

Alright, says the little voice, whispering from its burrow at the back of my skull, let’s just ignore the fact that everyone has gotten very tight-lipped and anxious the closer we got to this place, let’s just ignore that everyone has triple-checked their rifles while we’ve been standing here, let’s just ignore –

Yes, I think savagely to myself, let’s just ignore all that. This is what you wanted, Roan, isn’t it, exhilaration and dangerous circumstances, right? This is the logical extension of chain-smoking, just more immediate. What would be worse, a death in twenty years of lung cancer or a death right now by disembowelment and then getting eaten alive by an arthropod? If you weren’t stupid enough to believe Thor when he told you that –

Elena squeezes my hand, interrupting my internal monologue, and then the foot-thick reinforced door to the barrows is swinging open at the Sergeant’s hand, and I have no more time for thoughts.

“Stick very close to me,” Elena reminds me, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak. There is a cold sweat along the back of my neck and I ball up the loose rubberized fabric at my thighs to keep my hands from shuddering.

One by one we file into the barrows, and then the Sergeant seals the door behind us, trapping us inside. All around me I hear sounds of slug rifle actions being racked and shells being chambered. I see Euler, just a few feet away, swallowing hard, pressing rarely used buttons on the controller, and see Joker, correspondingly, flash on a pair of headlights and unsling its rifle from around its shoulders, tossing the meter-long gunmetal rod around like it were a toy.

I look around at the barrows and to my immense surprise my initial reaction is disappointment. I guess I had anticipated surroundings even stranger than the rest of the Pit, something really weird to mark that we’re in the part of the map where the optimistic medieval cartographer would draw sea serpents rather than blank space, but the flesh on the inside of the vast stainless surgical-steel retaining wall is just as rugose and squamous and eldritch as the flesh on the outside. If the wall and all of the warning signs plastered rather tackily all over it weren’t in the way you practically wouldn’t be able to tell that you’d crossed over the boundary into The Forbidden Zone.

Here be monsters and so on. None are immediately forthcoming, however, and the Sergeant resumes his spot at the head of the column and takes out the slim palm-pilot-like locator device keyed to the tracker on the crystal and points towards one of the dripping orifices leading deeper within, and where he points we follow.

There’s something meaningful there, I think to myself, as my boots squelch against the vast living floor and my eyes scrape along the edges of the vast living walls and my nose inhales the reek of the vast living space I’m crawling through like a parasite. Because truly there likely is no real meaningful boundary between the barrows and the rest of the Pit, it’s just a place the copepods like to nest. Perhaps it’s got the perfect temperature for them or it has an abundance of food or it has – some other quality that they desire more than other parts. But, I think as I crane my neck back and glare at the wall receding into the darkness behind us, that boundary there certainly wouldn’t have been one they would have picked.

Or perhaps I’m anthropomorphizing too much. Perhaps the copepods wouldn’t have picked anything, perhaps their range is the same as the range of their tinier oceangoing fellows, spreading wherever they might and if the surroundings aren’t suitable to support their life, they die.

I remember Peter’s tale of the copepod that wanted to see the sunlight and wonder, and then fifteen minutes later I see my first copepod and the sight of the massive crustacean shatters whatever pondering introspectiveness that I had summoned to, I realize now, shield me from the brutality I had been anticipating.

The copepod, at any rate, was small, at least according to Elena. I had underestimated their bulk, just based off of Peter’s story. This one was the size, perhaps, of a smallish boat, and streamlined roughly the same, a bulbous cigar-like body tapering at both ends to a tail and to a head, with a pair of reticulated arms terminating in creepy little hands with long grasping fingers. Something about their five-fingered familiarity filled me with dread, and watching the way the copepod cocked its head at us from the warty, encrusted protuberance it had partially emerged from, I thought I could have detected a canniness to it that shattered my half-conceived notion of the copepods as being simply overgrown louses or similar. It was, I realized, sizing us up.

Evidently we were present in numbers large enough to prove unpalatable, for it retreated back into its hole with a squelching noise like a fart and let us be. I breathed out a sigh of relief when it went and Elena squeezed my hand.

My initial impressions were wrong, anyway, because the deeper we go the more the flesh around us seems to crinkle and whorl and shrink down, without really losing any volume or pressing down further against us, without restricting our movement overly compared to the flesh outside. It’s as though this portion of the Pit were, for whatever reason, much older than the rest, although that doesn’t really make any sense, and what I’m seeing are all the assorted wrinkles and liver spots and jaundices that would come from that age. It sags in here, the ceiling bulges downwards and blisters occasionally, wet and fragile-looking and dripping in places. I think I can smell ballast and I discover that that night only – Christ, only a day ago, had imprinted something indelible and Pavlovian into me, for with the smell of the ballast I only felt my knees weaken slightly and my pulse quicken whenever I glanced at Elena, which was frequently.

Encounters with copepods become gradually more common the deeper we press. We see them all over the place, great overgrown louses burrowing amid the flesh, peeking out at us blearily or waving their rotund abdomens as they struggle, pale and phallic, to force themselves into reluctantly elastic orifices. Many times they look at us, eyes like faceted obsidian paperweights sunk in their broad, plated skulls, and I feel the same eerie sense of sizing up that I had noticed before, the same sense of analysis, but not a single one of them even makes a move in our direction.

Two hours in I incline my head closer to Elena and ask her how smart these things are, really, and she shrugs, her shoulder nudging at my chin. “I don’t think anyone really knows,” she says, “but the conventional wisdom is that they’re about as smart as five-year-olds.”

I think about that, really think about it, about what that implies. I remember being five; I was conscious and functional, if a little stupid and naïve. I couldn’t have fended for myself but I was also a soft, coddled human child, not an arthropod the size of a truck. I know cockatoos and dolphins are about as smart as three-year-olds, I know that some cephalopods like cuttlefish are supposed to be rather intelligent as well.

Maybe it’s too much of an abstraction. Saying something is as smart as a five-year-old implies a number of things and invites the listener to imagine various things that are true about five-year-olds that might not necessarily be true about the animal in question. Perhaps a copepod is only as smart as a five-year-old in certain areas, like in recognizing itself in a mirror or foraging for food or in performing certain types of logic puzzles. Perhaps –

“You okay?” Elena asks me, and I realize I’m doing it again, I’m retreating into myself as a sort of anticipatory cringe. The air is electric in here and though nothing has happened so far some deep-seated monkey part of my brain knows that we are in a capital-letter Bad Place with Bad Things in it that want to do Bad Acts to my poor little monkey body, and if I go analytical, if I shove all of my thought into the high-level abstract end of the spectrum maybe it won’t hurt so bad when I’m being eaten alive.

Stop. Here and now, Roan, I tell myself. Psychoanalyze yourself later.

Elena nudges me and repeats herself and I realize with a kind of aching clarity that I am very, perhaps mortally frightened, and when I look at her all that I want, all that I need, on some kind of overpowering molecular level, is for her to hold me very tightly until this is all over. I think my lip even trembles a little, and I can tell from the tiny judder in her eye when it does that she notices. I don’t even have the presence of mind to curl my lip at myself at this effervescent and overly enthusiastic gesture of weakness. I must be losing my touch.

Elena takes a hand off her rifle and knits her gloved fingers awkwardly with mine, and then she does something with her radio and then I can hear her, as close and as clear as if she were inside my helmet with me.

“Roan,” she says, adding quickly that this is one-way only, some sort of ranger trick with the equipment that would take me too long or be too technical to replicate on my end, “I know you’re scared but you’ve been so strong so far and I’m so proud of you. I – “ she says, and then she breaks off for a moment, and I recognize in the silence a kind of precipice that she is dangling off of and she doesn’t know for a moment whether or not to let go or to pull herself back up. I’m smiling, I’m staring at her and I’m smiling and willing her to just tell me, to open up and say whatever it is she wanted to say, to not think for just a moment, but when she speaks again I can see that she brought herself back from it and is taking a more measured approach, she is looking before she leaps, which although reasonable leaves me aching with the desire to hold her, to put my hand to her cheek and tell her that no matter what she wanted to say to me I would have wanted to hear it.

“I am so glad,” she says finally, “that I kissed you, I’m so glad that all of this happened between us, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you down here. I promise.”

And then I reach over and slip my arm around her hip and tug her into me and although I cannot really tell her how I feel without clunking my helmet against hers and yelling I think she gets the idea that I do feel better.

We spend the next half hour or so with her radio still linked up to mine and with her low voice like cool water whispering comforting, sensual things directly into my ears, and though more copepods – or perhaps just a rotating menagerie of the same five or so, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference – come and inspect us warily from a safe distance, clinging to the walls and prodding their heads out of vents as we pass, I manage not to feel too frightened of them.

Elena tells me about herself, about the year she spent in France after she graduated high school and her parents still thought she was going to go to college, about the time she cracked a rib from laughing too hard, about the time that she got into a car accident and it turned out to be an ex-boyfriend that she had rear-ended and they ended up getting back together and he rear-ended her, and she says this last with a lascivious little grin I can hear very clearly and it both makes me picture it and bite my lip a little and makes me snicker because it is the dumbest way to refer to sex that I’ve ever heard, and I realize that it has been far, far too long since I’ve had a friend like this, someone who’s been willing to expose at least a little of their life to me without heavy editing getting in the way. I learn that she drinks but not heavily, that she likes the taste of whiskey but doesn’t like how drunk it gets her, that she tried to smoke a cigarette once and vomited all over her shoes and has never been able to smell cigarette smoke without feeling vaguely nauseous afterwards.

I feel a little jolt of serendipity blossoming in my heart, and I think of the crumpled pack of cigarettes, still half-full, laying in the muck at the bottom of the vent to the ballast bulb.

I learn that she likes jazz music and blues music and that one of her favorite musicians is Dave van Ronk but that she also (she admits with a wry little shake of her head) likes pop music and that she also feels vaguely ashamed of it whenever she looks at the small stack of CDs she keeps with her things back in the barracks. I learn that Fall Out Boy and Green Day have made the list, along with some Coltrane and Louis Armstrong, but also Five Iron Frenzy and Cold War Kids and Florence and the Machine and Queens of the Stone Age and Pearl Jam.

She tells me about how when she was a kid she wanted to be a figure skater and trained for so long and so hard but she didn’t have enough talent to really do it at a meaningful level, and her dream was always to go to the Olympics for it but it was something that she had leave behind, and she had ended up channeling that competitiveness and drive and motivation into diving instead and found that she was good at it, that she was beyond good at it, that she found a freedom there underwater that she hadn’t expected, and she had grabbed it like a quarterback and ran with it until she had ended up here.

She tells me about high school, how she was one of the lacrosse girls, and instantly I ache for her in a way that’s almost palpable, because one of my first real crushes on a girl had been in the senior year of high school, and every day I would walk across the bridge to the cafeteria at the same time that she was coming back with a group of her friends, wearing that blazing maroon and white oversized polo shirts that I found so indelibly attractive, and it had awoke something in me that had apparently decided afterwards to fall back asleep afterwards, with mild snoring in college, until it finally burst out of bed roughly four days ago at 2 PM in the metaphorical afternoon with a panicked look at the alarm clock.

There is a lull in the one-sided conversation for a moment and I look over at her wondering if something is wrong but I catch her staring at me with an abundantly warm look of open fondness on her face that immediately pushes a rising heat into my cheeks and makes me look away quickly.

She tells me that she likes my body, that she knows I think I’m too skinny and frail and what the hell ever else I think is wrong with me but she thinks my face and my big wonky Roman nose is terrifically aesthetic. She loves the little dimples I have just above my ass, and she loves my ass and the way I make a little animal grunting noise in my throat whenever she squeezes or spanks it. She loves the way that I’m so thin that she can wrap both her arms around me and hold me very tight and feel me wriggle against her. She loves the way that I nuzzle against her in my sleep and the way that, occasionally, she’s noticed, I mumble things and give her affectionate, uncoordinated kisses without ever waking up, and then press myself back into her bosom and settle down again.

She loves the way I cry out softly when I cum and dig my nails into her without meaning to, and she loves the way that my tongue knows exactly what to do when I lap at her. She loves how I taste and how I smell and even though it’s been a couple days of hard work and neither of us are particularly fresh as daisies at the present moment she’s loved giving me impromptu baths with wet-wipes so she has another excuse to cup my small breasts and watch my cheeks color when her thumb and forefinger come together on my small, sensitive nipples. She likes the way that I’m more passive than she is, that she gets to take charge, she likes the trust I show her when I do that and she promises to never, ever abuse it. She likes the way that I look at her when her hand is squeezing gently around my throat, the way my mouth drops halfway open and I practically start to pant I want it so bad.

Halfway through this list I had begun to feel embarrassed, but I’ve wrapped all the way around and ended up feeling fuzzy and clear and incredibly, incredibly warm.

She has a whole litany of these things that she loves about me and I end up grinning so widely as she recites them to me, her tone growing slowly more and more pleased as she does so, that I flash a copepod a dazzling smile from about thirty feet away and I amuse myself by imagining that it looks confused as it turns and thrusts itself back into the flesh of the wall.

I wish I had some adequate way to tell her that nobody, not even Thor, has ever done anything like this for me. Nobody’s ever recognized that I was frightened and out of my element and distracted me so organically and effortlessly and unselfconsciously that I didn’t even realize at first, and by the time I did I was too flattered to care. I settle for just holding here there to me and listening to her voice as we pry deeper into the Pit, into the barrows.

With my hand there on the gentle swell of Elena’s hip and the crook of her elbow nestled tight against my side, the rifle clanking lightly in a rhythmic pattern as we walk, it is easy enough to forget that we are all presently in mortal danger.

* * *

We’ve stopped now, in the middle of a broad flat chamber that throbs like a drum to a sickly organic beat coming from somewhere below. It feels like walking on a waterbed. The Sergeant is stopped there ahead of us, staring at the locator PDA clutched in his gloved palm with a curious expression that on any lesser man I would categorize as either chagrin or hesitance, but either of those would be frightfully out of place on the Sergeant so I simply assume that it’s some trick of the light bouncing off the glass of the faceplate masking his characteristically immobile face.

I watch as he reaches down to the radio at his waist. “Veret,” he says, his voice faint and crackly in my helmet, “the Big Guy has it.”

He says this improbable phrase with such complete nonchalance that I think initially that I must have misheard him. Then the radio sparks and Makado’s voice, equally grainy, blooms in my ears. “Shit,” she says, dead serious. “Are you sure?”

“Locator’s pointing right to it.”

“I wish we had fucking known –“

“No time,” the Sergeant growls curtly. “Can we go in?”

Dead silence for a moment. It stretches like taffy. I glance over at Elena; she looks concerned, but whatever line Makado is speaking on has overridden the link that Elena had rigged between us. Her lips move softly and then she shakes her head.

“Alright,” Makado says, “go in.”

The Sergeant waits a full fifteen seconds before he acknowledges the order and then gestures to the rest of us and we trundle ahead towards the puckered vent ahead of us. It’s narrow, so narrow that we have to get out the jack again, the lower-powered spare one we had to take from the storage locker in the Listening Station after Slate had disappeared with the big fuck-off heavy-duty hydraulic one strapped to his back.

Poor Slate, I think to myself again, standing there feeling nervous and edgy here at the back of the pack, with only Elena and Joker there to protect me. What if a copepod scoots in, those manic rows of frilled rudders on its sides working overtime, and scoops me up in one of those creepy little hands, big enough to encircle my entire waist in one palm but spindly and altogether too delicate-looking to really embody the force and power I know is lurking behind them?

I consider the copepod behind us just now, thirty feet back and pale in the wan spotlight Joker is casting on it. The robot’s walking backward with inhuman surety, the slug rifle clutched in its metallic hands in a relaxed, low posture, but with the barrel still trained on the enormous arthropod back there with unerring accuracy. I look at the copepod’s massive blunt head and its dark, dark eyes, and it looks at me. It seems as though it had intended to come this way. It’s holding something in one of its hands but it’s tucked up against its body and I can’t really get a good look at it.

The copepod puts one hand out in front of it and pushes off and with a sort of bulky, lumbering grace retreats back out of sight and is gone. I let out a sigh of relief I didn’t realize I was holding.

Elena’s helmet clunks into mine. “It’ll be okay,” she says, a little brusquely, and then she’s gone, marching up to the front at some unseen signal from the Sergeant. Me and Euler are left to trade glances; he looks nervous, but he also always looks nervous.

I feel the temptation to retreat into myself again but I resist it. I grin at Euler, widely, with more carelessness than I really feel, and he frowns at me. He looks as though he’s going to be sick.

“Euler,” I say to him, leaning in a little. “I don’t know about you but this makes me feel alive.”

“Very invigorating,” he agrees after a moment, in a drab tone of voice. His accent’s slipped a little, he’s got a trace of the German coming out in the consonants now.

“You all right?” I ask him, and he shrugs.

“The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

“What, you’re not a fan of the surroundings?” I ask. I can feel a laugh at the back of my throat. I gesture around us, at the fleshy walls wreathed in shadow. “The scenic views? The locals?” I ask, eyeing the silhouette of a copepod scrambling along the ceiling far in the distance. It appears as nothing more than a great white tick rooting amid the remains of a piece of intestine someone has tossed on the ground in the middle of the night, lit briefly by our flashlights and then winking out of existence again. I experience a brief moment of nausea as the perspective seems to shift around me and I have to blink hard and stare at the floor to regain my bearings.

“We’re going in,” the Sergeant says across the radio. I stand on my tiptoes – not an easy feat in the heavy cleats – and peer ahead. The vent ahead takes a sharp curve to the left and – my breath catches – I can see an eerie, faint green glow emanating from it, the color of will-o-wisps and phosphorescence, the strength of about a hundred fireflies put together and flickering their hardest. It casts crazy shadows over the folds and flaps and moles and wrinkles of flesh on the walls, but we march around the corner just the same. I nearly plough into Fumi; I didn’t realize he’d stopped short, and he reaches back awkwardly and steadies me. Next to me I hear Euler mutter something under his breath in German and I frown and look over at him sharply but he is staring at something ahead of us.

I look ahead and see that we have fanned out into a rough semi-circle, and there in the center of the chamber, peering at us dubiously with an uncannily aggrieved expression on its flat, cracked face, is an absolutely enormous copepod. Its sides and back are scarred and pitted with age and it is missing an eye and a hand, but it has strewn across its tapered, bulldog neck a necklace made from what looks like fishing line and teeth, some of which – I blink, half-convinced I’ve gone insane and am hallucinating – look terribly human.

The copepod is curled over onto its side, and I can see beneath its bulk that it is resting on several animal pelts. Its one remaining hand strokes the fur idly as it watches us, and then it shifts a little, rolls over onto its belly. It raises its head and makes a buzzing, chittering noise that works its way into my bones and sets my teeth on edge, and a few vents on the other side of the organelle widen as two other copepods squeeze their way in. They start to approach us, mouthparts working, but the giant copepod gestures and they fall back towards the walls and simply sit still and watch us.

Behind the giant copepod – oh, of course.

Behind the Big Guy is a pile of what I initially think is trash, but as our lights play over I realize it must be more like treasure. I see more pelts, bits of clothes, disposable cameras, packs of cigarettes, jewelry, fishing rods, a set of tent stakes. I see shoes and shirts and flashlights, little bits and bobs, shiny things, precious things, all arranged in a massive pile there on the throbbing floor of the chamber. I can see a human skull, picked clean of flesh and yellowed a little, peeking out at me quite clearly.

And behind it, partially concealed by all the junk and detritus and cast-off relics that the copepods must have spent years collecting, is an enormous gnarled crystal, spiked as a sea-urchin, glowing with a pale green fire somewhere in its depths. I think for a moment, as I stare deeply into it, that I can see something moving inside of it, but it’s just my imagination. The winking red light of the radio tracker patch someone from the ill-fated science team had slapped onto it flickers wanly at us.

The Big Guy spreads its arms. Its mouthparts scuttle over each other for a moment before a hideous, strangled noise emerges from them, but as its croaks and grunts and screeches continue on some part of my brain manages to piece together a pattern out of them, and then I freeze. I can feel my pulse throbbing in my ears and I recognize distantly that my mouth has fallen open.

“What… you want?” the copepod moans at us, and as the Sergeant takes a step forward, his hands empty and outward in an almost supplicating gesture, and begins to speak to it, I feel my insides give an uncomfortable, shocked lurch, like the floor has just opened up beneath us and swallowed us whole, like the pit I’ve fallen into has come alive around me.

Continue with Part 22

Back to Table of Contents

#mystery flesh pit #writing #writeblr #alt lit #Novel #original writing #Michael Crichton #thriller #disaster #acid

16 notes · View notes