#im just saying I understand how he went mad in his pursuit

[marinettenoirfan]

The second Nathalie put on the Peacock, Gabriel was locked in. He flirted with the idea of giving up his pursuit of the miraculous during S2 Style Queen, but never again after that.

Imagine the grief of losing both Nathalie and Emelie to the peacock. How could he ever live with himself after that?

[pinkchanelbag]

nia- i just pulled a reversed temperance card... i guess the universe knows connie and i have been up at 4 am arguing...

REVERSED TEMPERANCE — CONNIE + 4AM.

the wind is loud tonight. 

you notice only because everything else is so quiet. paradis has been bustling with its new renovations for so long that construction became a night and day sound that faded into the background. but tonight there is rest, because by daybreak there will be chaos. 

but the wind is a whisper compared to your voice.

“CONNIE,” and you’re after him in an instant. the way he almost ignores you’re there like he never, never, has before strikes panic into you, because it means he really won’t listen to you. he’s really going to do this.

“you’re gonna wake the squads,” is all he says. his voice is scarily unaffected, and it’s what finally has your blood bubbling. 

“i don’t care.” he’s still just ahead of you on the grass. his path is towards the supply stash shed, his slightly too-worn ODM buckles in his hand as he walks. the compound is fast asleep, or at least trying to be. as asleep as can be less than twenty-four hours before a declaration of war. “listen to me. listen to me.” your pleas hit the back of his head. you look absolutely ridiculous, hollering like a—like a mother, in your sleep clothes in the pitch black. it has you stopping in your pursuit. you force stability back into your voice before uttering another word. 

“you don’t have to do what i want just because i want it. you don’t have to care about what i have to say more than what you think, but it’s me, connie. you still have t...you’re supposed to care.”

your tone isn’t entitled. it’s practically babyish, insecure. but your voice is steady and your words are sincere and that is what finally stops him. his back is still turned, but you see the way his free hand comes up to rub his hand over his face. he sighs. he’s tired. it’s obvious. everyone is tired. tired and scared, but it’s your fear that seems to show more than his. 

“i have to go.” there’s misery in his voice. you decipher it in an instant because you know him. you know everything he needs to say before he says it but you make him say it anyway.

not miserable because he’s going—he’d never dare not to. misery because he has to do this with you and to you. misery because anyone has to go in the first place because of this daft plan only the jaegars could’ve possibly come up with. misery because the world is how it is, because he lives at the centre of the worst of it and never even knew just how bad it was until recently. misery that the concept of hope was obliterated after the crossing of the sea. misery he ever had to find out what a sea is. 

“you don’t.” a weak argument. what else can you do? maybe if you were a soldier you’d understand why he’d go, and you’d be okay with it and you’d go with him. you’d protect him. you would, if you could, but you didn’t sign up for military service all those years ago. on nights like this, it feels like the biggest mistake of your life. 

you realize painfully that you wouldn’t be able to go even if you were in the corps.

knowing your words fell on deaf ears, and with good reason. you try something else. “i don’t want to lose you.” 

his figure is stiff. all you can see are the way his shoulders rise and fall. it’s only when he turns around that you notice how hard his breaths are, and then you’re looking into eyes that have gone a little bit mad with anguish. 

“i don’t want you to lose me.” it’s almost like a laugh. part of you knows the way you’re making this so much harder for him. the burden of your desperation will weigh heavy on him because despite what you said, you know he cares and that care means how you feel and what you say will go with him anywhere. you know you’re making this more painful than it has to be, but that seems like collateral damage. because if there’s even a sliver of a chance that something you can say can keep him from going, can save his life, then you have to do this. you fingers grip the front of your—his—shirt as you re-state to yourself that it’s not selfish, not anymore. because this isn’t just for your sake. 

“you know i’d never let sasha and jean—and armin and mikasa and everyone—go and stay behind. you know i can’t.” there’s something pleading in his own voice now. he’s begging you to understand. begging you to stop this and you desperately want to but you can’t. but you don’t have anything left to try. 

no, that’s not quite right. 

you still have the truth. 

but it may be the cruelest thing of all. 

“connie...” you bring the heel of one palm to your eyes as your face crumples. it’s beyond cruel and yet you can’t keep it in any longer if you tried. silent sobs shake your shoulders for a few moments while connie takes a few steps closer, but not close enough that he really wouldn’t be able to leave when the time came. “connie,” and your voice is so torn apart that he knows there’s something more. it’s not like you to pull him from his duties, ask him to deny his bravery and the things that make him who he is. there’s something mor—

“i went to the doctor.” your words are broken and high pitched. the hand holding the front of your shirt tightens before opening flat and scrunching the fabric to your body. to your stomach. connie’s worried eyes catch the motion. his face is glued to your hand as his ears wait for you to say more, but he knows by the wrecked sob you let out that you’re done talking. and you’ve said enough. 

“no,” he breathes. the ODM buckles fall from his limp fingers. “no, no, no.” his face breaks out into pure pain. he slowly closes the meter wide gap between the two of you. his tears and yours hit the grass beneath your feet. you can sense his gaze at you, but he’s not looking at you, not focused on anything as his vision of the hand on your stomach blurs. you cry like people who are tired of rediscovering over and over again the limits of their own threshold for pain. 

at some point, your forehead hits his chest, and then his arms grasp yours for balance, but there is none for you to offer him, and soon, you’re both crouched into the grass in each others’ arms. you stay that way for some time. for awhile, it’s just the two of you and your hurt and the wind. 

when the tears are gone and in their place is morbid acceptance, you finally speak into his neck in a small, soldier’s voice. 

“stay alive.”

his grip on your sleeve tightens. 

“you have to stay alive.” 

he doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to. you know he hears you.

the two of you stay there consoling one another till daybreak, grieving over all the things you’ve lost and still stand to lose. 

note: WOOOOOWWOWOWOW IM SO SORRY LMAO

NIA’S 999 EVENT (CLOSED). 

[catradora-stan]

i kinda wrote some widowtracer fanfic for the first time so im gonna post it here. give me some feedback if you want. 

She was about two seconds away from murdering her. But then again, she always was. Lena’s incessant bantering had plagued her for far too long. On many occasions it almost drove her to a premature completion her task. The day would come when her orders were given but for now she was required to deal with the annoying, British imbecile.

“Hey now, look. I’m not saying that you can’t do what you love as a profession, but trying to make money from playing video games is pretty dumb.” The girl gave Amelie a cocky look that dared her to challenge.

She glanced over where Lena was sitting, and gave her most evil glare. “I make money by being here. Therefore I am making money playing video games. Now do shut up.” She had to focus on the enemy in front of her. She couldn’t risk losing the match. This was her first tournament where victory meant she could win real compensation. She flicked her arm and clicked on the mouse while mashing buttons on the keyboard. Another clean headshot.

Lena let out a groan and started rapping her fingers against the wall. Over the course of a week Amelie learned how hard it was for her to sit still and be quiet. The annoyance was like a high maintenance puppy; she requires constant attention if you don’t want to deal with her getting into trouble. Amelie had never owned a dog. She wasn’t for the idea of having something that cannot help itself.

Yet here she was, a trained assassin, forced into this highly undesirable mission because she was still a newcomer in her field. One day she would work her way up the ranks until she was the one giving orders. The schmuck that continued to underestimate her and give her these horrid assignments would find himself employed at K-Mart. Or dead. One of the two. Retail jobs and death are about equivalent. The notion made her grin as she picked off another enemy in her game.

For now she had to deal. She had originally been stationed as Lena’s bodyguard while her father was away doing business. He had been in close company with her organization for years doing whatever it was he did. Something with weapons. She didn't know the specifics, and why would they tell a grunt like her? All she knew was that while he was away plans had changed. He apparently failed to deliver what he promised, and if the deadline were to expire then her orders were to take out the girl. He had only a couple of weeks. Good enough incentive to get him going. He seemed like a nice guy who cared about the girl; enough to get in trouble with one of the most dangerous group of criminals.

Of course Lena was unaware of the truth. Incidents like these had been a constant occurrence in her life. Her father had fed her lies about what he did so he would still look noble to his precious daughter. On the day he left he told her: “I have a very important job therefore I make lots of enemies. But don’t worry about me I have good people keeping me safe. The same people who will be keeping you safe while I’m away.” His words were a complete fabrication. And due to the abnormality of her father’s work life the girl never had a typical childhood. She was raised more so by nannies and bodyguards than by her father. He had been absent approximately eighty percent of her life. And her mother had been gone the whole eighteen years. Of course the only reason Amelie knew all of this was because the little parasite could never suppress her constant need to jabber.

So it was no surprise when Lena started singing. It was from some awful, dramatic musical she had been watching the other day.

  Mon Dieu. Does she ever shut up?“Silence you leech!” Amelie was trying hard to focus on her game. It was a tie at the moment and she was desperately trying to fix that.

Lena paying no mind started to increase in volume. “DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING? SINGING THE SONGS OF ANGRY MEN!” She let out a chuckle in the middle of the song, knowing the frustration she was causing, before she started up again. “IT IS THE VOICES OF A PEOPLE WHO WILL NOT BE SLAVES AGAIN.”

Lena observed from her position as Amelie tried her hardest to concentrate. Her callous look intensified as Lena grinned. Then suddenly she saw the character on the screen die, which led Amelie to cry out in fury. She told her teammates through the headset to cover for her but it was too late. Everyone was dead. The enemy quickly captured the objective and in big bright letters the word Defeat spread across the screen.

That was when Amelie snapped. She rotated her chair away from the screen and towards Lena. A malicious grin splayed across her face as her hands hardened into fists. In a calm tone that did not match her demeanor she breathed, “I am going to kill you.”

That was all it took for Lena to sprint out of the office. Amelie pushed herself up out of her chair and quickly followed in pursuit. The girl had almost made it down the hallway when she slipped on the hardwood floor. Fuzzy socks were not good running shoes. The assassin was right there on her. Lena tried to scramble back onto her feet but it was too late. Amelie had pulled her up by the back of her shirt and slammed her against the wall.

The girl yelped in pain and looked up, terrified into Amelie’s murderous gaze. “You can’t kill me cause that’s like the opposite of your job.” She stammered. She tried to move but the assassin tightened her grip.

“Oh really? The opposite of my job? My job does not consist of dealing with your constant BS. I am not required to be your dumb little therapists and listen to your incessant, childish squealing.” She knew that her words were cutting into the girl like knives. With added venom she spat, “I am not your friend. I am only here to make sure that no one kills you.”

“No one is going to kill me! No one is ever gonna kill me!” Lena pushed her tormentor off of her and continued. “My father doesn’t even care about me and all he does is stick me with you people all the time. If he actually knew what I needed he would know that I don’t need to be babysat-”

“What do you not understand when I said that I don't care? Go plague someone else.” She turned and began walking back down the hallway towards her quarters.

“I don’t have anyone else to plague because no one lets me go anywhere or make any friends!”

“I DON’T CARE!” She slammed the door behind her making the valuables on the shelfs tremble. She threw herself onto the bed that did not belong to her. Being an assassin should not involve being a babysitter. The girl was a legal adult anyways. Amelie wanted to break something, someone, shatter a collarbone. The vase on the wall would have to do. She grabbed it from its home on the shelf. It was ornate, covered in the symbols of some ancient civilization and encrusted with gold. But it wasn’t in her hand for very long. She launched it as hard as she could at the adjacent wall, causing it to shatter, bringing great satisfaction to Amelie in her aggravated state. She had doubted that anyone would care about its absence, but sound of hurried footsteps indicated otherwise.

“What the hell was that?” Lena inquired through the door.

Amelie responded, “A metaphor.”

“What?”

“A Metaphor for what I will do to you if you keep messing with me, imbécile.”

“Hmm. I see. Your French voice is pretty.” Lena shuffled outside the door then leaned her back against it.

Are you joking? This job was an actual nightmare. Amelie tried to dwell on the hopes of promotion but that was difficult with Lena making noises outside her door. After about a minute had passed she asked, “Why are you still there?”

“Cause we’re friends.” Lena giggled, “You're just mad cause you’re bad.”

“First of all, no. Second of all, no. I lost because you are the world’s biggest annoyance. I would like nothing more than to end you.”

“It’s just a game bro.”

Amelie groaned into the expensive bed spread. This was going to be a long three weeks. She stealthily stood up and walked towards the door, careful to make sure that Lena wouldn’t notice. Then she reached out towards the handle and yanked the door open as quickly as she could. On queue Lena fell backwards, landing on her butt. She swore loudly then glared up at Amelie.

She looked down at the little disaster. “You’re just mad cause you’re bad.” She mocked.

It seemed as though the bothersome brit didn’t know how to respond to what had just happened. Lena just sat there quietly, with a contemplative look on her face.

Amelie went back to the bed and began looking at her phone, thinking that perhaps the matter had been settled. As long as Lena wasn’t making noise or bothering her she didn’t care what she did.

Eventually the girl on the floor spoke up. “You know, I have never had a bodyguard like you. You pretend to be impassive yet you are so easily moved to emotion. I guess that’s why it’s so fun to piss you off.”

The assassin acknowledged her with a grunt and pretended to be more interested in her phone.She knew that Lena would be the most interesting, yet deserving person she would kill, if it came to that. She might even regret murdering her. Might.

“The best part about it though is that now matter what, you don’t actually get to kill me.” Lena joked as she layed on the floor.

That’s what you think Chérie.

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 2

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1

Notes (I guess): I am equally in love and in deep hate with some (a lot) of what’s going on in here, and I am terribly, terribly sorry. And also there are some characters I wanted to explore a bit further than what had been in this part, but... I’m working on it. Give it a bit and I’ll get there. Again, credit to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for screaming at me to write this, and to @whatwashernameagain for Keep Him Safe, and also a tiny tiny lil bit to @anony-phangirl and @asleepybisexual for their general support and for being such great sports about me annoying them with my ideas... (oops).

(I’m trying to find a way to write my notes, so bear with me until I find a way to… it might take a hot minute.)

(KHS) Tag List (sort of): @em-be-lievable, @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2, @adoratato, @supremestoverlord, @royallyanxious, @madly-handsome, @hanramz-the-fander, @the-incedible-sulk, @poisonedapples, @virge-of-a-breakdown, @winglessnymph, @princeanxious, @smokeyrutilequartz, @im-bad-at-life (if any of you could tag the rest, please do! I’m improving my memory from day to day, but… yeah…)

Tag list: @bunny222, @ab-artist, @secretlyanxiouspersona

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter in particular includes some very heavy misgendering and deadnaming (if you get what I’m saying). Please be careful.

—————

Science of Living Systems 20 actually wasn't as bad as Remy thought it would be. It was rather cool, actually.

Well, at least he hoped it was.

The head of the department was… an interesting individual. Remy met with him during the application process. The man insisted on calling him "Miss Harris" and speaking to and about him in girl pronouns, and Remy understood why.

For some reason, though, Remy expected all the professors to be like that. And not such was the case.

"Rebecca Harris, I want to see you later in my office."

Doctor Gilliam was in his late thirties, called everyone by their first and last names, thought that being single was hilarious, made really bad puns in his lectures (though Remy heard, not as much outside of them), and tried his best to be "hip with the kids". It was worrying, to say the least. And… yeah, Remy was slightly terrified.

"I'm kind of worried, kid," Gilliam said the moment Remy walked in. "You don't look too-"

"Excuse me, Doctor, but I don't know what this is about."

"Have you heard about shadows and personae, Rebecca Harris?" Remy shook his head, terrified to say a word. "Well, it's quite an interesting concept. According to Carl Jung, you'll learn about him later, the persona is the mask you wear in the world. It's what you want others to see. The shadow is your innermost self, the parts of your identity that you wish to hide from others."

"Okay, and?"

"I think your persona might be cracking."

What… was going on?

"I'm not making sense, am I? I'm sorry. There's a lot that goes into that theory and I shouldn't confuse you this much, at least not until we get to it."

Yeah… it was weird.

"So, my point is… you can talk to me if anything is making you uncomfortable, okay?"

"Okay… I guess."

"Well, that is all," Doctor Gilliam said, fixing his glasses.

That… was weird. But okay. If that's how he wants to do things. Remy wasn't going to complain.

He was definitely better than the head of department.

—

There was a knock at the door.

Abby, their RA, was over earlier. Apparently Katherine had a bit of a scene right after class. So naturally, Remy assumed it would be Abby. No one else could be knowing on their door at ten thirty pm-

"We don't have your bunny this time. You can go."

Oh.

"Oh, no, I just…" Remy could hear that… kid? Whatever his name was, from the door. "I just need… I need someone to help me with something. And…"

"Oh. Remy can help."

"No I can't," Remy replied. "I need sleep and so do you!"

"It won't take long, I promise!"

"...fine." Remy got off the couch - the nice, comfy couch, where there was a blanket and his sols20 book - to the door. Where that kid (Emile? Emile) was looking at him with those big blue eyes and…

Yeah, Remy regretted unbinding. (Well, no. He did not. But also kind of did.)

"Hey… Rebecca, right—"

"His name is Remy."

Emile seemed shocked for a moment. Oh shit. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't know. I just… I see you in most of my classes, so… never mind. So… how are you with baking?"

—

"So my sister Julie is LaVeyan—"

"Aren't we supposed to be baking cookies, babe?"

"Yeah, but… the stuff's all in the cabinets and I'm looking!"

Emile was a disaster child, Remy decided after only five minutes alone together. He brought a violin and his bunny to the kitchen in the pursuit of baking cookies - like, what even? - and he just seemed so… energetic? Happy? Whatever the word was. A couple minutes ago he was talking about the cookies, sure, but then he switched it to the importance of guided imagery, and then why Li Shang from Mulan is bisexual, and now… what was he even talking about?

"So my sister is a LaVeyan Satanist," Emile repeated himself, almost climbing on the counter to reach a cabinet. "It's kinda funny, actually. My dad's side of the family are all Catholic, and— can you put the sugar on the countertop, please? Thank you!"

"Sweetie, for the eleventh time this past ten minutes, I understand nothing you're saying."

"Am I speaking another language or something? Because if so I'm sorry!"

"No, it's just…" How does he not hurt his feelings? "It's just… you talk fast and about a lot of subjects at the same time."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry."

Maybe he thought Remy couldn't hear, but there was definitely a "this is just one of the things that are wrong about me" thrown in the air.

Emile didn't speak to him for the rest of the process. Maybe once or twice he pointed out a step or an ingredient, but overall he did not speak. At all. And then the cookies were in the oven…

And then he pulled out his violin.

"Is this really necessary?"

"I'm not talking to you."

"Emile, is it because of something I said?" Emile, still pouting (as he had been for a good hour and some now), nodded. "Well, I'm sorry. Please don't silent treatment me."

"I talk too fast and too much."

"Not what I said. I just said I can't follow you. I didn't say it's your fault. Please don't—"

Emile pretty much just ignored Remy (uhh, rude!) and positioned his violin, and started to play something… quite angrily.

After a minute and a half Remy recognized it as Once Upon a Dream from Sleeping Beauty.

After another three minutes, he dared open his mouth again. "I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean to. Do you accept my apology?"

"...fine."

It was not fine. Absolutely not.

"Thanks for the help with the cookies," he said as they separated at the top of the stairs, all one-hundred-and-ninety cookies (Emile insisted on quadrupling the recipe) safely packed in plastic boxes and hidden away. "I… I'm gonna go now."

"Emile, please." He turned around, still looking quite pissed. (It was probably the hour, Remy tried telling himself. It's already past one am. This is not good.) "Are you mad that I said I'm confused?"

"To be honest with you, yes! Yes, I'm mad. I know it wasn't your intention but I heard you say shut the fuck up when you said that. And it hurt. Very badly."

...oh.

"I'm going to forgive you, but it's going to take me a bit, so please don't be mad at me, okay?" Emile honestly looked close to tears. "Good night, Remy. I'll see you in living systems tomorrow."

And then he went to his suite, violin and bunny with him.

Remy just got himself into a huge mess.

—

It was a beautiful afternoon in Boston when Remy found himself at the rather posh Italian place his mom wanted to meet at.

Before their divorce in late 1999, just after Remy turned fifteen, his father started contacting a charity organization dedicated to help transgender youth. He educated himself. Tried to educate his wife as well. But… apparently it was the last straw for Linda. The very night he tried to even just explain that it's not her fault, that it's how he was born, she packed up her things and left.

The divorce papers came in less than two months later. The divorce was finalized in November 1999. Remy did not see her since.

(Yeah… that was a lie. He actually hasn't seen her since Christmas 2001. But that was still a very long time. Almost a year is a long time.)

"Well, at least the weather's nice." And there she was with her new boy toy. Glamorous as ever, with her stupidly huge sunglasses and her bright red (disgustingly fake, makes India's hair seem real) curly bob, looking exactly the same as she did that day Remy came out to her.

A few hours later, though. When she thought he was asleep and left the house to go to some party.

"Well, at least you're still not very nice, Linda," he said with a smirk as he sat down next to her boy toy (he actually looks kinda nice, for a forty-something year old). "But much unlike the weather, I don't think this is a thing that can change so easily."

"Where are your manners, Rebecca?"

"The same place those diamond earrings you forgot when you left us are. At home with Dad, probably watching South Park."

"Well, at least we left the girls at home." Linda took off her sunglasses and replaced them with a normal, frameless pair of glasses. "I don't believe you met Stephen before, Rebecca."

"I don't believe I've met a Rebecca before, Linda."

"Are you ready to order?"

It took about two minutes for all the orders to place (of course Stephen had to order something overly fancy, because why the fuck not) before she started yapping again.

"Rebecca, I didn't ask to see you for you to be so rude to me."

"I didn't ask to see you, period."

"What would you like to be called, then?" Stephen asked. Well…

"Remy. My name is Remy."

"Your name is—"

"My name is not Rebecca! I haven't gone by that name since I was fourteen. Dad never called me that since the day I asked him to call me Remy. You're the only one who ever insisted, how do you think it made me feel?"

"How do you think it made me feel, Rebecca?" Remy hoped no one was looking. "My own daughter. I jeopardized my own high school graduation to have you because your father was dumb enough to forget the condoms. I gave up life-long dreams just to raise you, because that retard of a father you have couldn't. Is this how you repay me?"

There was a very awkward silence, that was broken by an unfamiliar voice - deep, with a southern drawl - and a confused "Rebecca?"

India. Without her makeup, her hair pulled back.

Looking almost perfectly manly.

"Excuse me?" Linda straightened her glasses, glaring at India. Oh, how Remy did not want this to happen… "And you are?"

"Ian McGinty, ma'am. I'm her boyfriend."

Oh.

"Your father didn't tell me you have a boyfriend," Linda spoke slowly.

"Because he doesn't know everything. And my name is still Remy."

"Ethan and I are gonna go now," India said, her voice still lower, still more southern than normal. "Text me when you're done, we'll go get ice cream?"

"...sure."

And then she leaned down and said, in the voice Remy grew to know and absolutely adore, "we're going to talk about this. Don't worry, I got your back."

And then she was gone.

"So a boyfriend, huh?"

"...so how many men have you fucked before meeting Stephen, Linda?"

—

"I'm so sorry about your mom, baby."

India's brother, Ethan, looked nothing like her. Well, he looked like a more manly, less boyish version of ‘manly' India, but also nothing alike. He also didn't talk much. So that was fun.

India took them to get ice cream indeed. (And much like her music taste, her favorite ice cream flavors - burnt caramel and earl grey - were rather… interesting. But she did swear that Toscanini's was probably the best ice cream in Cambridge, and who was Remy to argue with her?)

"It's alright. She's always been like this."

"Doesn't make it alright." Ethan grunted in agreement. "Take it from me, Remy. It's never alright."

"Does he have an Esther?"

India's eyes rolled so far back. "Do you think that every trans person have to have an Esther, Ethan? Do you truly think it's how we realize our identity?"

"It's how you did yours."

"I knew I'm a girl since the moment I understood who I am. Any related accidents after that are purely incidental."

"India, I think I fucked up." She looked up at him from her half-melted ice cream cup. "I told you about Emile, right?"

"You're still stuck on that?" Remy nodded. "Look… that kid told you he forgives you. You saw him in class since then, he didn't say anything to you… you're doing fine, sweetie."

"Is that his real boyfriend?"

"Ethan, shut the fuck up or I'll call mom. Remy…" India turned to play with his hair.

Yeah, it was very calming.

"He sounds like a very sweet kid. Trust me, there's no way you fucked anything up. You'll be okay. You'll get to hang out with him again, and it will be okay. Now eat your ice cream, you have the best ice cream, and then we're going back to your dorm and we're going to watch Priscilla. Or Hedwig. Whatever suits your fancy, okay?"

"...okay."

"Now, let's talk more about your mom and why it isn't okay that she treats you like that."

And for a bit, everything just seemed alright. Well, almost.

[dekumidoriyall]

despite some ykw talk, this is gonna be a mostly about my faith tbh.

This asshat. how convenient that he mentions his FOREARMS, lest we forget about a previous post... Continuing on.

Same old same old EXCEPT THIS TIME Instead of just our usual surface laughs and elementary knee touches, we actually had a lot of insightful conversation. Like I felt I got to know who he is and his values a bit better what makes him who he is. AND YA know your girl is an even bigger sucker for character than she is for forearms.

So roll your eyes twenty times for me please. Bc I went in there like "HEY GIRL, I know he's hot and cute and funny so just don't fall more " you know, a little mental prep so I'm unfazed. BUT GUESS WHAT. The universe or whatever is in charge of making my life a little more complicated was like "well guess what? We're gonna bring out the big guns (not AJs biceps, which look great too btw but damn those forearms. LORD HELP ME. And I do mean it, like Jesus please) we're gonna let aj open up a bit more and yall are gonna get along so fuckin well" AND GUESS WHAT. We did. I was just like HA THIS GUY IS GREAT AND literally EVERYTHING I was asking for.... Before I fell in love with God.

Because now I gotta get MYSELF straight first off. Because I've been asking for the right person instead of BECOMING the right person. So lately it's like well whoever God has planned for me is probs pretty great, so I gotta be great too. Bc let's be honest, I want a dope ass fuckin family. I want a hot husband and cute kids and make fresh squeezed fuckin orange juice and have a nice lil deck with a dog or two or three. BUT THATS like down the line so right now I'm focused on becoming the version of me that God has called me to be.

But not gonna lie aj looked so comfy I literally just wanted to doze off on his shoulder. And I love having him in my life you know. So even as friends, I feel good hanging with him. He gives a lot of good insight, is someone I can be myself with, and ya know is a general cutie pie in general. But he also helps make me a better person (I won't tell him this bc it'll only boost his ego) but I'm like damn that mofo doesn't take failure as an option at all. But it's so inspiring! In a way bc he works hard. You can't tell him shit bc he does it all on his own. And I like that. I used to wanna be that way

And in a way I still do. But i always wanna give glory to God you know. I want to ask help from God. In my daily life. I want THAT relationship [with God] more than anything. And I kinda now want that in a guy tbh, someone who will not only motivate me in my world pursuits like my physical goals or my career goals, but someone who will encourage me to uplift my spirit. And if I want a guy like that, I gotta be a girl like that too you know. Give and take baby. So I gotta start becoming the frequency and vibration that I want to attract.

Don't get me wrong, my feelings are still what I've said. Maybe not blatantly but you all know. I just also know that (from past experience) God provides more than I need. And that he makes all things work together for good.

Like kyle for instance, the third (the last) time more specifically. I didn't wanna go through that. I specifically prayed GOD please don't let him come into my life to just wreck it again. did God put him there or did the enemy? WHO knows but what I do know is there was a lot of pain and shit and I didn't necessarILY think I needed to go through That but God was like "look jazz I know YOU don't understand why this is happening to you but I gotchu, don't worry. Your pain ain't permanent " AND what should have wrecked me, changed my life completely. I can 100% say after that last annoying fucking time, it taught me so much (that apparently the three years prior didn't >.>) and I just grew a lot after that. Mentally, spiritually, and physically.

So even when I don't understand "why", I have to keep moving and working and getting to know Him so that he can continue to bless me. I pray to God that I don't lose my fire for him this time. But it feels different it's not just a fire that leaves me as soon as I close my Bible or leave church. It's constant lately. Not always like holy spirit hot (bc boy I've been there and sweat through my shirt) but like a pot set on simmer. And not just fire but a wholeness, and this Love. I've never I guess fully understood His Love for me bc you know people are always telling you "God loves you" and it's like yeah I get it you bought it at hobby lobby it's on your wall I get it.

BUT I DID NOT.

Now I do get it, and am truly starting to understand when everyone is like "his love is true and all-encompassing.." Yada Yada. Like you hear that shit all the fuckin time and not gonna lie sometimes Im like ok what is that gonna do for me... Oh young naive me. EVERYTHING. Wow. You have no need for anyone else with him. But god is so nice he's like "look I know I'm the best friend you'll ever need but here are some asshats and knuckle heads to keep ya company. And he loves me SO MUCH that he's like "I also wanna make you grow as a person so here are a few challenges along the way not meant to hurt you but to grow you" so all these fuckin obstacles there are, God sent or hell sent or because of my own stupidity sent. I'm gonna be like BRING IT ON. I'm not worried so much anymore. I could literally go on.

Anyway, all I'm saying is if aj actually didn't stop whatever we were doing to focus on him and stuff, which of course sucked emotionally for me, i wouldnt have had the chance to, one, focus on myself bc I'd be so focused on him. 2, wouldn't have reached back out to God. And 3, truly enjoyed building a good friendship with aj. AM I scared that we might be teetering into the friendzone category? Am I worried that that's all it'll ever be? HELL FUCKING YES. I'M TERRIFIED AS HELL WHAT TF U TALKIN BOUT. I like that dude so fucking much it makes mad sometimes. BUT! Instead of anxiety or any of that negative shit, God's replaced it with a nonchalant "don't worry I got it" and listen. It's like when your super lucky (usually stoned) friend who you don't quite know how they get away with shit or get anything done right ever were to tell you this. You never know just quite how things are going to work out until they surprisingly do at the very end. But the whole time you're like ALRIGHT this isn't looking how I wanted it to. But then it comes out better and you got a few extra dollars to spend on snacks. So Idk HOW it'll work out and maybe it won't be the way I planned or wanted it to, but I have faith it'll be better. But you can't just reap a reward you haven't put in work for.

So it all comes back to focusing on me, which is easy bc the boy i like maybe probably has feelings for me and it doesn't change anything. And this is literally probably the only position God could have put me in for me to finally get all my shit together and get back to Him. So tbh its working to be good so far. :)

[huh8]

Ok my story here we go. People are asking me for my story about being bigender and I decided to include my story on being bisexual because I thought it was relevant. Yeah it’s pretty long. My apologizes but I decided not to use any names in this story, not even for the people who were really helpful towards me.

 Alright like when I was younger I was always a tomboy. I completely rejected anything feminine (besides long hair.) Back then, I didn’t have a huge identity crisis because my parents pretty much allowed me to like whatever I wanted and didn’t really ever tell me what I was doing made me a “girl” or a “boy.” I was raised as a girl and nobody ever questioned it, I was just a girl who liked doing boy things.

So that was no big deal, I was pretty much ok with myself gender-wise. It wasn’t until late middle school that I started feeling out of place.  Girls would say things to me like “Why don’t you try a skirt?” or “Try makeup!” It wasn’t that I didn’t like makeup, I just felt like I couldn’t like it because I was a tomboy, like I wasn’t allowed. I felt like if I liked girly things, it made me less of a boy. When I came to this conclusion, that I actually did consider myself a boy and realized that I had for a long time. I remembered being a kid, not even in school yet wishing I was born male.

What exactly caused these feelings? I am still uncertain. Maybe it was that all my friends were boys? Maybe I blamed my gender for the fact that I was so lonely? I loved being a girl my whole life. I was proud of being a girl. But in a way, I wished I was a boy.

In high school wanted a boyfriend. This would be my second boyfriend, but I was determined to become the perfect girlfriend because I still felt heartbroken over my middle school breakup. I think it as mainly due to my own thoughts that I wasn’t worthy of a boyfriend because I wasn’t girly enough that I decided to become ultra-feminine in this pursuit. For the first time, I looked for bright colors and skinny jeans when shopping. I even looked up makeup tutorials (even though it wouldn’t be until my second year that I would wear it to school.) I tried to give myself pseudo confidence and started hanging out with anybody who I considered girly. I asked out a few boys and got rejected each time. I didn’t really let this get to me because I knew I was just looking for a boyfriend for the sake of having one.

Eventually I did get a boyfriend, and this made me realize who my friends were. All those girly girls who I thought were my friends went against me, (some were mad because they were single, had a crush on him ect. others were just racist because he was black.) and I was pretty much left without friends. It was hard to go from popular to abandoned, but I did realize that the friendship was based on me pretending to be a feminine girl when I was actually a tomboy. Dating my boyfriend opened me up to a whole bunch of new friends anyway, most of whom were guys.

I retained the feminine look, maybe a little more toned down after that. I started becoming a little misogynistic thinking all girls were backstabbers or fake. Now once again, most of my friends were guys. I would try to convince my guy friends that I was one of them by showing interest in things they liked (even though I already had an interest I tried to exaggerate it.) I even occasionally would ask my friends to use male pronouns towards me. They never would, instead they would say “but you are a GIRL” and this made me mad.  At times pretending I had interest in girls to appeal to them even more. Although I acted like it was obviously a façade, I eventually did develop feelings for other girls.

By the time I was a senior in high school I accepted the fact that I was bisexual and gave up most of my misogynistic ideas. I kept it a secret though. The only time I made it seem like I was attracted to girls was when I was around guys because I felt like they would think it was a joke or that I was trying to be edgy. At times, I would think to myself that there was no way I could like girls, that I was lying to myself, and in some ways it felt wrong.

It wasn’t until after I graduated that I would admit to my boyfriend “I like girls.” All he said was “Oh, you do? Ok.” It was such a relief to tell somebody and it felt great. He wasn’t mad or didn’t believe me, he didn’t question it, he didn’t say it was wrong. I was so afraid of all these things that I had kept it a secret, when in reality it wasn’t such a big deal. The second person I came out to was my best friend. This was really hard for me because I was afraid she would think I had a crush on her and not want to hang out with me. Again it was a great relief to find out that I was afraid for no reason.

Throughout my entire life, even when I was in elementary school, I suffered from anxiety and depression. About halfway through my first year of college, I was prescribed medication for these problems. My first day on the medication my body was still getting used to it and for the first time I felt extremely happy. Ok I was like high as hell. I used this opportunity to come out officially and publicly as bisexual on facebook and tumblr. I received a little bit of support, but mostly indifference. That was just fine for me because the only two people who I was worried about already knew.

Going back in time a little, a few weeks after I came out as bisexual to my boyfriend I told him “I have always considered myself a boy.” The conversation ended there, it was just something that I said in passing. I don’t know what he thought of it, I think maybe he just accepted it but didn’t take it too seriously (like he didn’t think I wanted to be transgender or anything at the time.)

It was on tumblr when I met somebody who was bigender. I read their description and they were into things I liked so I thought I would try to make friends with them because this idea of being both genders was so interesting to me. I think the first thought I had was “You can do that? Wait, I could do that?” I think right away I knew this is what I wanted to be. I tried talking to this person about their gender and they got really mad at me or anybody else who would ask them questions about it. They would say “google it im not an encyclopedia.” Another thing that was really off putting about this person was their posts were like they had a split personality, and their answers to asks would contradict themselves. The more I looked at their blog, I really rejected the idea that I could be bigender because I thought they were really weird.

Luckily, I was able to learn more about the concept of bigender from other sources and didn’t let this one person spoil it for me. I met a new tumblr friend, read articles, and asked advice from my friend who works at a resource center that I consider my senpai in matters concerning lgbt people. I asked all kinds of people their opinions on what gender-neutral, transgender and bigender meant. After I did my research I decided to settle on bigender.

I love being a girl. I am proud to be a girl who likes video games and anime. I am proud to stand up and talk about my experiences as a female. However, even though I had pride for myself as a cis female, I felt like there was a side of me that I wasn’t proud of, a side that I was hiding. This was the side of me that I considered male: The side of me that wanted to be called a bro and wanted men to stop hitting on. Being bigender means I can have both, that I don’t have to be afraid and that I am not less of either.

I decided I “bigender” was the label I wanted to use months before I told anybody. I tried once again to get people to use male pronouns toward me and they still told me no. Eventually, I came out as bigender to my boyfriend.

His initial reaction was completely understandable. He asked if I was sure and if this meant I wanted a sex change. I told him no and that I just wanted to experiment with this idea for a little while. He accepted it, almost too quickly and didn’t ask any further questions. I was sad that he wasn’t asking me questions, because changing your gender, in my opinion, was far more of a drastic change than saying I was bisexual. I think he was just afraid to ask questions. Maybe I his mind, asking questions was a form of rejection.

A few weeks later I decided that this wasn’t just an experiment and I came out to my sisters, and later my parents. My sisters were very supportive and again I think they were afraid to ask questions. My mom had a few questions, and some of them were a little disrespectful in my opinion, but I didn’t blame her because I know that she had never had experience with this sort of thing. She said “That’s ok. AS LONG AS-” Here is a fair piece of advice, anytime you start a sentence with ‘that’s OK as long as/if’ your being disrespectful. She said “That’s ok. As long as you don’t feel like a boy trapped in a girls body.” The worst part is, as I have just explained, is I did feel like that. That feeling was one of the things that lead me to this discovery.

My dad’s reaction was just as disappointing. He said “Ok. How does that affect me?” This made me feel like he was less accepting and more indifferent. I didn’t feel like this was something to be indifferent about like I did my bisexuality. This does affect everyone I tell because of the slight differences and expectations you have for each gender. I mean, I know both of my parents meant well and they accepted me in the end.

I only have one sister who occasionally uses male pronouns for me, which isn’t a big deal because I didn’t really ask them to. My older sisters seem like they are afraid to mention my gender. Not because they are ashamed (or at least I don’t believe so in the slightest), but they are afraid to ask me questions because they think they might offend me as well. I am pretty open to being asked questions, even personal questions because I would rather you ask someone who is directly experiencing it than hear from rumor or incorrect advice.

My boyfriend goes out of his way to use male pronouns for me, or at least not refer to me only as his girlfriend. He noticed that I get really excited when he uses male pronouns for me. He asked me if this meant I was more male, but that isn’t the case. I have just been hiding the male part of me for so long it feels great to have it awknoleged

[mujinfuu]

Dancers: Krystal Gonzalez, Al Ang, and myself.

Watch the video first before reading ahead and form an opinion on what the concept is. What comes next are the thoughts and perspectives that each of us had during and after watching this.

So ever since this video was uploaded to the Riverside Sessions drive, I’ve been watching it over and over again to dissect it. I also got curious about what the thoughts of the other dancers were with this piece both during and after watching it a few times. Here’s the conversation:

Al:  Twilight. Bella choosing between Edward and Jacob but she chose Edward even though last minute Jacob tried one last time. 

Jk 

 In all seriousness, it feels like a story of two friends. One begins to fall for a girl but little did he know that the girl and other friend had feelings for each other. It became a push pull between the girl who was indecisive and fighting her feelings for the Edward and in the end Jacob kept letting go. 

Even though Jacob came back several times to see if things would work, it always ended in a chase that never had anything truly substantial at all. 

At the last tri-contact, it was the internal struggle with acceptance of their paths as all three reunited in a solemn manner. Excuse my use of twilight chars. Just used the names in place of Friend1 and Friend2

Krystal:  Very much agree on the twilight reference. But my thinking process, whenever I go into a contact freestyle I establish my character to the song and as I’m interacting I figure out the relationships. Since you two started off first together I felt like I was first trying to gather my feet and then al came to me first as a friend would. Then switching to josh in that type of Edward versus Jacob feel. But contacting with al always has stronger initiatives in like touch and feel which allowed me to think about the contrast of wanting to stay and letting go. Josh always has a light feel that has a lot of connection and intention which I brought more of the feeling aspect that drew me in the song especially. Like my hand were tied lmao.

Me:  Really digging the Twilight references Al and I can definitely see what you’re saying Krystal about the contrasts in touch and feel. Here’s my take after watching it a few times (first focusing at it as how it’s presented, then 3 times focusing on each of us individually, and finally watching it with everything previously in mind). 

So initially, it was just a love triangle thing (this is also what my approach was with the song as I got more comfortable with it since I’ve never heard it before). Al and I are friends, Krystal and I were once together but aren’t anymore, Al is there to comfort her but she still has some feelings for me while I’m still trying to figure out what I want (whether to try and take her back or give a chance to someone I know who can treat her better). The final contact we have with each other symbolizes how we just want what’s best for one another and how these feelings clash and fuse and react to one another ultimately ending in each of us turning away from one another. 

Watching us individually, I noticed that there was more to the story. To set things straight, Al is my closest friend who I have known prior to knowing/dating Krystal and she is in a relationship with me. You two have known each other before we were in a relationship and he has had feelings for her ever since they’ve met but has put them aside because friendship and bro code. 

Starting with myself, I seem to be going through something that’s disconnecting  me from both of you guys. It seems I’ve changed and I’m a bit too emotional jumping from aggressive to distant to confused to sad and the cycle continues. Al tries to reach out but I push him away and the madness that goes on within myself is bleeding onto the relationship I have with Krystal, which is also pushing her away. The times when in alone, I’m contemplating whether it’s right for me to keep torturing her in this toxic relationship just because I’m comfortable with her or let her go to be with someone better and be happier. Little did I know, she still loves me and comes back to me so often but the constant clashing of whether to hold on to her or let her go still lingers. In the end, everything that I’ve been going through, feeling, and thinking about comes out. 

Focusing on Al, you can tell he’s just a genuinely kind guy. He’s been there through my good and bad days but this time, for whatever reason and even though I may have gone to him for some help, it seems that I’m not willing to let him do so. He’s also been there for Krystal too and it seems like he’s witnessing the relationship imploding. Those feelings for her are arising again but he doesn’t want to be a homewrecker. These feelings and thoughts come out in the end. 

Focusing on Krystal, we see that there’s something wrong with us, or should I say with me. I haven’t been the same and she’s been going to Al for some comfort and advice not knowing he’s had deep feelings for her for a long time until recently but she’s only focused on trying to fix what we have. She doesn’t want to throw away what we have because of our history but she can’t deny that it’s taking a toll on her. This also all comes out in the end. 

Watching it again with all of this in mind, it’s now a love triangle between a broken and lost man trying to figure out what’s best for his woman, a best friend who has a chance to be with someone he’s had feelings for ever since he’s known her but doesn’t want to jeopardize his connections with either of them, and a woman who is torn between trying to fight for what she has and leaving a toxic relationship in pursuit and a chance of happiness. In the end (and this goes back to the initial thoughts of the ending), everything that we’ve been going through, our feelings, emotions, and thoughts all intertwine, clash, and are released to create this beautiful yet tragic perspective of something I can’t really describe. When the dust settles, Krystal lays in front wondering what to do. I’m laying behind her wanting to tell her to leave me but can’t find the strength to do so. Al initially reaches out to help me again but after I pull away, he turns his back to me.   

I’m probably just overanalyzing this or maybe previous experiences and other friend’s experiences with this is being projected onto our freestyle but that’s what I see. I may have left out some stuff but yeah. It’s good to read and understand what you see in it and how you felt during it. Sorry that was super long but I don’t know. Felt like I wanted to share that and get your take of it too. Thanks again guys.

Holy crap the more I think about it, the more there is to it. 

The relationship that Krystal and I have could have been on the rocks for a while now but it’s only recently that we both opened up to Al. This could mean that I’ve been a complete selfish prick and have been abusing her and I’m not noticing it since this is normal for me. Maybe the thing that’s bothering me is that in the back of my mind, I know what I’m doing and how I’m treating her is wrong and I should do something about it. Maybe somewhere in the middle of the freestyle, I see how happy she is with Al and I’ve realized the girl he’s been talking about that he likes is her. So there’s a chance for me to make them both happy at the cost of mine (but really it’s just the whole history thing with her and how comfortable I am being with her). 

So there’s Krystal and I wanting to keep stay together because comfort and history and Al trying to honor the relations between us both. The solution seems so simple. Al and Krystal should be together and I should respect their decision and move on while I better myself. But I guess you can argue that working through hardships in a relationship only makes the foundation that much stronger and there are other fish in the sea. I suppose it’s about who you want to root for huh? 

Maybe none of us are meant to be together in that way and that we’re all supposed to be friends or maybe not. Maybe whomever Krystal chooses in the end may not be such a happy ending. Maybe whomever stays single will stay single but share their love in different ways. Who knows what’s right and wrong when it comes to love. I suppose it boils down to our choices and how we move forward with them. I don’t know. Sorry I went off on a rant.

Al:  Hahaha dam remind not to catch feels between you two… 

Jkjk 

But yes, I love both of your guys input! I can see the interpretation of both views and it’s pretty eyeopening to watch it again after reading each view. 

Whenever I go into a contact freestyle or freestyle in general, I try to establish my motive initially, similar to Krystal and others, often by feeling the music. 

Stepping away from my twilight shiz, and just giving what I was thinking throughout some cause im at work rn…. 

I went in immediately thinking that Krystal and Josh had interest. It was a love triangle between two friends and I went back to how I would act in real life if things happen in a triangle. 

Reseceding back to support the friend. 

Though in the twist of music and emotion and vibes, began to chase the feelings caught. Though each attempt ended in nothingness and I ran away to recollect myself (in character) 

When I returned again for the final section, it was to find peace with both parties and hoping to reconnect what was torn and broken and hoping to start anew only to end in a symbolic tri-collapse of solemn emotion between everyone ie nobody wins in this war of torn hearts etc

Funny thing is we’ve never heard of the song before and this was our first time contact freestyling together. I didn’t even go into what the lyrics meant in terms of watching each of us individually and collectively. It’s amazing just watching all of this and realizing that all of what was mentioned above is conceptualized in a matter of moments throughout the song. 

I’d like to hear your own thoughts and opinions on what this dance means to you.

[mckoriginals-blog]

Chapter 1: It was a long road that brought him here. And like most stories of true love, it all began with a girl. But we'll get to that later. First... The boy. Clark had endured pain. Physical first. For years. What a 2 year old toddler could do to provoke years of anger... Clark still couldn't say. He only remembered that his concept of love was directly connected to deep mistrust and a sincere wish to please the people around him. Sometimes he found the way quickly. He gave his father what he needed and the beating stopped. Sometimes, there was no reason behind it. So the beating didn't stop. Bruises became choke marks. Black eyes became swollen. Cuts became stitches. Lies became commonplace. There was a "happy family narrative." In fact, the entire family could have lost everything if certain people knew. So the burden fell upon the boy, to keep up the lies, to suffer in silence, and to endure the nightmares. All of this shaped how he loved. All of this is important. From age 2 to age 7, Clark was hurt in ways that still affect him today. He remembers those years, especially at night. First, he couldn't sleep. His father would pass the room, see Clark's eyes open, and his imposing shadow moved closer as he entered the room. The door would close. And merciless violence was his punishment. For being awake. Not loud, not even talking. He was not out of bed. He was in bed, as asked, falling to rest... Just not fast enough. The next week he hid under his bed. He knew he wasnt asleep yet. He knew his Dad would see him. If he hid, he couldn't find him. Or maybe he'd see the fear he instilled in his only son and feel shame. The beating that night was one of the worse he had ever received. He learned to fake sleeping. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes not. Sometimes hearing, "Clark. Are you awake?" Was enough to make him shake in fear. This answered the question. His emotions betrayed him. His father knew. He was rewarded with pain. Between 2 and 7, Clark learned something. A fail-safe. The way to stop the physical abuse. He had to cry. Everytime he did, it brought his father out of it. His father would stop. He'd apologize, begging his confused son for forgiveness. What child would refuse their Dad that? But... The sentiment.... "It will never happen again, Clark. I promise, I'll never hit you again." That was a lie. So he knew promises were not for him. And he stopped crying. The abuse got worse. As the rage built within him, desperate to see tears and fear in the eyes of his son, Clark's father was instead met with stoicism. A cold resolve. Emotionless eyes from his son. The beatings would go on for years, but Clark never cried again for his father. Eventually, Clark's mother left his father. His sisters were staying with her. Clark was old enough to make the choice. He still remembers this moment. "My Dad is staying. My mother and sisters are moving. My Dad will be alone. I don't want him to be alone. I choose Dad." Clark's mother cried. How do you explain to your 7 year old son that his empathy was going to be met with abuse? He didn't know it was wrong. He didnt know other sons were loved, not hit. The family never taught him the difference because if he knew, his father's career would have ended. Somehow, his mother convinced Clark that his father would be ok and his little sisters needed him more. And at age 7, Clark moved into a house of kindness, compassion, and patience. And he forgot the abuse. Repressed it. For many years. People asked why Clark didn't make eye contact. Some asked him directly. Guessing correctly. "Were you ever hit, son?" And Clark smiled. "Of course not." And he thought it was the truth. Chapter 2: Clark was popular. He wasn't the best athlete. He did ok. He wasn't the most confident kid. He fought insecurities often. But he was a few other things. He was smart. He devoured books. Watched the news. Thought and asked questions beyond his years. He was nice. His heart was big and he wore it on both sleeves. He was funny. He made kids laugh, adults chuckle, and his sarcastic nature made him see optimism and positivity in the darkest of times. And because of this, people liked him. And Clark liked being liked. Then, Clark felt a new emotion. You may disbelieve it. And the intensity of it can be doubted and debated. But Clark found love at a young age. And it became his everything. This powerful force suddenly became his main focus. Everything in life was in the pursuit of it. He wrote and spoke passionately. He charmed. He wooed. He found all his strengths could be used to win the hearts of the girls he fell for. Jokes made him funny. Poems made him romantic. Kindness made him sensitive. Intelligence made him interesting. But love is complex. And betrayal... Painful. Love was innocent at 7. Losing it was hard at 10. And finding his girlfriends cheating at 13, well. That was devastating. 13. The year his mother and father fought. Thats the year the nightmares started again. Thats the year he remembered. This is where Clark became broken. But... he did survive. And two years later, he met the girl who made him whole. Layla. Chapter 3: Sitting in base housing, Clark listened to the most heinous things being said about his mother. Insults, for no reason. It was too much. His father was mad at her. So he sat his three children down and told them every disgusting nasty thing he thought about her. They went home in tears. Clark felt them welling up, but did not let them fall. He was good at holding back tears. "Mom? Dad said this. And this. It's not true, right?" Then she repeated his infraction. She told her teenage son and daughters about how terrible their father is. Clark ignored it all. He was a cheater. A sex addict. A deviant. Whatever... Clark thought to himself. As though his mother could read his mind, she turned to Clark. "Plus, dont forget all the things he did to you." Clark felt something in the back of his mind. A wall. Cracking. "The bruises. The scars." The wall was shaking, struggling to keep something back. "He used to beat you, Clark." The wall collapsed. "No, he didnt..." Clark said. Then he yelled it. Then he cried. Then he ran. But he was starting to remember. And he would never forget again. The nightmares came. But they were memories. He knew, because he asked each time. "Did he give me a bloody nose?" "Yes." "Did he make me lie at the base picnic?" "...Yes." "Did he come into my room?" "Almost every night..." "AND YOU LET HIM? FOR HOW LONG?" He didn't like the answer. His popularity took a hit. He withdrew. He battled depression. He had trouble socializing. Clark's entire fucking world fell apart. And things were about to get worse. Chapter 4: Its interesting. When you have a strong sense of justice and someone in your family breaks the law. It can disillusion you and make you question your entire perspective. It can drive you away from your family. It can make you leave. Clark left his mother's house and moved in with his father. Clarks father tried to explain the past. "Your Mom tricked me. She said she was on birth control." Gee. I was an accident. Im so sorry. Thanks Dad. I understand now. But there was one thing about his father he knew. His father followed the law. So he stayed. The internet, messaging... It was just becoming a thing. Clark loved computers. He loved the internet. He read. Wrote a lot. And he played Checkers. Online. And he met Barry. A Canadian. They talked about video games. Barry told him about a Romanian born classmate, Alex. Alex started playing Checkers too. He was a computer whiz. In a few days, he taught Clark how to read HTML, make webpages, send documents, download songs, and even IM. It was innocuous the day. Clark logged into MSN messenger. Alex greeted him. Clark was doing homework. Barry joined the room. Then Gabe. Clark was getting overwhelmed. Remembering what his Dad did took away his extroverted side. He was completely shy. Nervous. Doubtful. He didn't know Gabe well. Clark was thinking of an excuse to leave... "Hey, Clark. There's one more person who wants to join. Is that ok?" Alex asked. Clark wanted to say no. To this day, he can't tell you why he didn't. He was a people pleaser. Maybe that's why. "Yeah. Of course." *Layla has joined the chat room*