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haikyu-hoe · 3 years ago

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One too many beers

JJ Maybank x reader

fluff, one shot, bit of angst

warnings: cursing, mentions of abuse, fighting

I usually don’t write non-haikyuu fics, but why not, i just love jj so muchhh. Hope you guys like it, if so please drop a like or reblog, it’s appreciated! <3

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You had known jj for so long that you knew that when he wasn’t trying to get you and the others to party, he was probably sulking about something. You left the cosy campfire, took a deep breath in and entered the chateau. jj was there, a smoked blunt still lit besides him, drinking a beer.

“Hey”, you said softly as to not scare him. He turned to you, and you saw the bruise on his jaw. His knees were also scratched pretty bad and his hands too. As you got closer, you noticed blood on his shirt.

“Sup, y/k?”, he said, taking another sip. His eyes were filled with tears, but he refused to cry.

“jj, what happened? are you ok? do you want to talk about it?”, you cautiously asked.

“What’s there to talk about, huh y/k? You know damn well what happened. Same as always!”, he scoffed and took another sip of beer.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”, you tried to get closer to him but he cut you off brutally.

“You didn’t mean to what? You didn’t mean to what??”, he got up so he was only standing a few feet apart from you. He reeked of alcohol and weed.

“please youre clearly drunk, jj you should get some rest, we’ll talk in the morning.”, you tried vainly to calm him down. But he only got more riled up.

“I’m not taking your dumb fucking advice! You think you know better than me? You think you could handle my dad?”, his eyes were now filled with hatred in addition to the tears. You got closer to him to put a hand on his bicep, but he swiftly removed himself, slapping you with his other hand.

“Don’t fucking touch me or talk to me.”, he scoffed before downing the rest of his beer.

Shocked at what he had done, you left in a hurry, getting scared of what he might do if you stayed. You didn’t bother saying goodbye to the others and went straight home.

———

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror, illuminated by the rising sun. A slight bruise had formed during the night on your right cheekbone. You had to talk to jj, but who knows what would happen this time? You brushed your teeth in silence, tearing up from the pain of your cheek. After getting ready, you headed down to the chateau.

“Hey y/k, you left without saying bye last night, what’s up with that? Wait what happened to your face?”, Kie said, her expression changing suddenly as she got closer to examine you.

“I’m sorry, i was in a hurry. Where’s jj?”, you asked. John B got out of the house with Pope and walked up to you guys.

“He left earlier. I think he wanted to find you actually.”, said John B.

“What’s up with that bruise, y/k? you didn’t have it yesterday”, asked pope.

“Yeah, you didn’t reply! Wait. Did jj do this to you? We heard yelling last night before you stormed off”, added Kie.

“I didn’t storm off, i-”, you started but got interrupted.

“So that’s why he was so angry at himself. Y/k this isn’t ok, he might have been drunk but he can’t hit you!”, said John B. They all looked at you, really worried. You sighed.

“Just tell me where he went. please.”, you desperately asked. John B pointed the direction to you and you left quickly. If he was right, he should be by the beach right now.

As the sun got higher in the sky, you spotted a blond guy siting on the sand, watching the waves. You walked faster to him.

“jj, hey i wanted to make things right after last night”, you started. He turned to you, eyes red and puffy, tears on his cheeks. He still smelled a bit like beer, and he definitely hadn’t showered.

“i’m so sorry y/k, i was so upset and drunk and high, and i let that cloud my judgment, i didn’t mean to hurt you…“, he stopped to look at the bruise he left on your face as he got up. He raised a hand to brush your cheek, but you quickly backed up.

“fuck. y/k please don’t be afraid of me, i have almost nothing right now, if i lose you i lose everything”, he took a break to wipe some tears off his face. “I’m an idiot, i’m just like my dad, i screw up everything!”, he yelled, eyes filling with tears again, gritting his teeth. He was aggressively pulling at his hair, letting out panicked, angered screams.

“jj, please. calm down, listen to me. It’s ok, it’s ok. i’m not mad.”, you took him in your arms to get him to calm down. He eventually loosened up and hugged back, repeatedly saying “i’m sorry”. You rubbed his back as he tightened his embrace over you.

“I love you”, he whispered. You heard, but didn’t tell. He probably didn’t mean it like that you know? so you just played it off.

“C‘mon, let’s head back yeah?”, you said, before walking silently back to the chateau with him.

You party that night, get tipsy, fall asleep on the couch, the usual stuff.

———

You get woken up by a smiling jj, gently shaking your shoulder.

“Mmmh, what? jj? what time is it?”, you mumble, still half asleep.

“Come outside with me y/k, i wanna show you something”, he said, obviously excited.

You get up, a bit groggy to be up so early. It’s only 6:00 am, come on jj. Maybe you can go back to sleep later. You follow him to the beach after putting on a hoodie and getting a bit of water in your face. He tugs your sleeve to get you to walk faster.

You sit on the sand, as jj gestures to the sunrise. It’s almost all visible now, and it’s beautiful. You gently rest your head on his shoulder, gathering the courage to talk.

“You know, i uh, i heard you the other day. At the beach i mean. When you… When you said you loved me? And i wanted to-”, you start, cheeks turning red.

“Oh, that? Fuck I was so hungover and maybe still a bit high, god. So sorry”, he says, forcing a laugh and looking away.

“So you… didn’t mean it then?”, you ask, turning to him.

“No, no of course not. Ha”, he adds, still avoiding your gaze. something feels off but you don’t question it. You simply wait for the sun to be up and leave calmly.

———

Kie notices you’ve been off all day, and talks about it with the others. jj is god knows where, and it’s a good thing for now, meaning they can talk to you.

“Y/k, is everything ok? maybe you’re just hungover, but you seem conflicted or something”, starts Pope carefully.

“Myeah. jj told me he loved me. But he didn’t mean it.”, you spit out.

“What?? Wait… WHAT?”, says John B, looking terribly confused. You explain the whole thing in details, and you finally admit it; you like him. Now wether he did too seemed rather complicated right now; you’d have to confront him about it again.

“I shouldn’t tell you this… but i know he meant it. He’s just an idiot”, says John B as you’re about to leave. You thank him for telling you before leaving. jj should be by his house by now. You walk over there, hoping it won’t be complete chaos when you arrive.

Despite your hopes, you hear yelling from the sidewalk. This is bad. Without knocking, you enter house. jj is on the couch, tears in his eyes, while his father, a half-empty bottle of alcohol in hand, yells in his face.

“Hey! Mr. Maybank, please can i-”, you start, putting yourself in front of him. But jj shoves you off.

“y/k. get out of here, now. don’t get yourself killed. just go.”, he says through gritted teeth.

“jj please- Mr Maybank-”, you start again.

“GET OUT!”, yells jj. “I can handle this”, he whispers, tears in his eyes.

“Can you? Can you even handle anything?”, yells his dad, slapping him, then getting him up by the collar.

“Let him go!”, you scream. You Push him away from jj, grab the boy’s hand and run. His father yells some more, but you’re not listening. You run longer than you wanted to, but you finally reach the park. You sit down and so does jj.

“y/k, that was reckless. He could’ve hit you too. Fuck, you can’t barge in like that! I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of me again!”, he says, voice still shaking. You put an arm around his shoulders, hand ruffing through his hair. You stay like this a while, until his tears dry off.He slowly leans into your shoulder, and you feel your cheeks heating up. Now’s the time.

“jj. The other day… i mean, at the beach, i wanted to tell you that, well, i love you too.”, you finally said.

He jerks up, looking at you, locking his eyes in yours. He seems unsure. Using the hand still in his hair, you get him closer to you, putting the other on his chest. You feel him putting a hand on your thigh and he touches your cheek softly. The bruise is almost gone now.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispers.

“Shhh it’s ok, it’s ok jj, you didn’t mean to. You’re nothing like your father. You’re kind, free and so dear to me”, you say, your voice fading away.

Your lips meet softly, only for a few instants, instants you had been dreaming of for so long, so so long.

He smiles brightly as you both look at each other with passion. He’s so precious, you wish you could protect him from everything.

“i really do love you”, he says.

You kiss his cheek, giggling. He’s so perfect, you’d do anything for him. You rest your heads on each other, almost falling asleep in the afternoon sun. Reciprocated love, it’s the best.

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babbushka · 5 years ago

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Mind & Soul (5/10)

The story of how one man fell out of love and into it again

Charlie (Marriage Story) x Reader

6.8k; warnings for angst, marital affairs/cheating, nsfw content

Tumblr masterlist for previous chapters // Available on AO3

---------------

Lately, I find myself out gazing at stars

Hearing guitars like someone in love

Sometimes the things I do astound me

Mostly whenever you're around me

Charlie used to love flying, before all this. He used to get such a thrill from the way his stomach would swoop as the plane would take off, would look out the window and marvel at how the Earth seemed so far away, so small. Buildings and cars and people no bigger than ants, while he sat in a great metal bird in the sky.

He doesn’t bother to open the shade now, exhausted of flying, exhausted from all the travel.

But Henry pushes the shade up, because Henry has the window seat, and now it’s his turn to stare with wide-eyed amazement at the way the world comes back into view from behind a thick blanket of clouds. Henry presses his face to the window, and when he looks up at Charlie with a big smile around a mouthful of chewing gum so his ears don’t hurt from the descent, despite the aches in his bones, Charlie smiles back.

“Are we almost there?” He asks, recognizing the monuments, finger pointing at the window.

“Should be, look, see they’re coming to collect our trash.” Charlie pulls off his headphones, stuffs them in his pocket. The flight attendants are making their rounds with a bleached smile and gentle wake-ups of passengers who had fallen asleep on the journey. They’re coming his way, so Charlie turns to Henry and picks up the little bag of goldfish from the airport and asks, “Are you finished with these?”

“Yeah I accidentally dropped one on the floor.” Henry makes that half-frown that kids make sometimes when they’re worried they’re going to get in trouble.

“That’s okay, just be careful not to step on it, it makes more of a mess that way.” Charlie smiles at him even though he’s too tired to really manage the muscles, shows him that it’s okay.

“I’ll be careful I promise, I accidentally stepped on a snail at mom’s apartment and I cried.” Henry whispers in Charlie’s ear, again worried that he’d be yelled at. Charlie wonders who was snapping at his son to make him fear every little admission. But Henry doesn’t seem upset, he shrugs and sits back in his seat with a, “So now I watch where I’m going better.”

“I’m sure the snail knew you didn’t mean it.” Charlie replies, although his brain is caught up more on the mention of Nicole than anything. He swallows hard, gives the stewardess the small empty bag of snacks and tries as casually as he can to muster up, “Do you like it, mom’s apartment?”

“Yeah there’s lots of kids who are all really nice, and the flowers are pretty. We go to the beach a lot and mom says I’m going to get tan, I’ve got a really good seashell collection so far. But it’s really hot.” Henry looks out at the night sky. “Like sticky all the time. Sometimes I feel like when I go out onto the balcony I can drink the water in the air.”

Charlie frowns, buckles Henry’s seatbelt when the little sign lights up.

“She’s got air conditioning, doesn’t she?” Charlie asks, as he buckles his own. He tries not to sound accusatory.

“Yeah but it’s still hot.” Henry replies, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And maybe it is.

Some things are easy, like the weather. That’s why everyone went to it for small talk, nothing easier than commenting about the weather.

It had been hot, when Charlie and Nicole had gotten into the fight.

He doesn’t want to think about it, the things they said. The way they both raged and shouted at one another in white stucco walls, bare walls with next-to-nothing of his own design, his own choice. He had called you, had asked you what to put up on those walls, and then, well. It didn’t matter much, did it? He went and ruined it, punched a hole straight through the whole thing.

He doesn’t want to think about the things he said. The way vitriol spit from his mouth, the way his face contorted and pinched and grew red hot, the way he could feel the blood pounding in his ears. How he had been fuelled by spite and hate and blind panic, panic because this was all going so wrong, so badly. It was going badly. He regrets it, what he says. He regrets a lot of it.

He doesn’t want to think about how true they all were, on both sides, and how painful that truth was. The words screamed screamed screamed at one another with shaking fists of fury. Who was this woman that he had married? And who had he become?

No, YOU fuck off. If you listened to your son, or anyone, he’d tell you he’d rather live here.

He tells you because he knows it’s what you want to HEAR!

Voices of his own hatred and fear and pain echo in his ears, pain and rage that he’s never felt before.

You’re being so much like your father.

DO NOT compare me to my father. You’re exactly like your mother! Everything you complain about her, you’re doing. You’re suffocating Henry.

He tries to blink back tears, as the plane soars through the sky. He feels sick, he’s exhausted. He wonders if Henry would forgive him if he went and threw up in the little bathroom that he can’t even fit in.

I felt repulsed when you touched me. The thought of having sex with you makes me want to peel my skin off.

You’ll never be happy. In LA or anywhere. You’ll think you found some better, opposite guy than me and in a few years you’ll rebel against him because you need to have your VOICE. But you don’t WANT a voice. You just want to fucking complain about not having a VOICE.

He looks out the window, his hands shake. He says he’ll be right back, as his feet carry him away, down the aisle despite the protesting flight attendants. They take one look at him and let him go, let him wedge himself into the bathroom.

You gaslighted me. You’re a fucking villain.

You want to present yourself as a victim because it’s a good legal strategy, FINE. But you and I both know you CHOSE this life. You wanted it until you didn’t.

He braces himself against the little counter, splashes water on his face. He can’t cry now, not yet. Henry needs him, he’ll need to hold Charlie’s hand because the landing part always scares him. He tries sucking tears back into his eyes, tilts his face up so they might just…reabsorb into his eyeballs. He doesn’t know.

You’re so merged with your own selfishness that you don’t even identify it as selfishness anymore. YOU’RE SUCH A DICK.

Every day I wake up and hope you’re dead-- Dead like--If I could guarantee Henry would be OK, I’d hope you get an illness and then get hit by a car and DIE.

The words are whiplash, when they come back, and he’s got a white-knuckle grip on the tiny counter, gets jostled around as the plane hits turbulence as it begins to descend. He should go back to his seat, he can hear the seatbelt sign dinging, can hear the pilot over the loudspeaker.

I know.

I’m sorry.

Me too.

Was he?

He splashes himself with water again, gets a grip. Leaves the bathroom, apologizes to the attendants as he quickly walks to his seat. He’s glad there was no one on the aisle side for his row, glad the plane was relatively empty, calm in the navy night.

“Are you excited to see the new house?” Charlie says in case Henry can see him in the dark.

“Yes!” Henry’s eyes shine happily and he turns to face his dad, “Mom said it’s got a big backyard, is that true?”

“A really big backyard, bigger than our old one. If you want we can get a pool and go swimming in the summer, you can invite all your friends over for a pool party.” Charlie promises. He’ll promise anything, at this point, anything Henry wants.

“Okay but only if there’s sno-cones, Billy had a birthday party and they had sno-cones and they were so good my mouth was stained for three days.” Henry laughed quietly to himself, and it kills Charlie that he wasn’t there to see it.

“We can have sno-cones. What else did you do with mom?” He wills his voice not to crack.

“Um,” Henry thinks around a yawn, “We went to the parks a lot. I’m learning how to roller skate.”

“Really? You’re brave, I’m too afraid of falling.” Charlie ruffles Henry’s hair.

“It’s not so bad, I’ve got knee-pads and everything.” Henry laughs and ducks out of the motion, playfully avoiding getting his hair messed up. It’s long, he needs a cut, Charlie thinks. “When we get home I’ll show you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Charlie nods, and then he notices that the plane is dipping more dramatically, so he offers a big palm to his son and smiles, “Here hold my hand, we’re landing, chew your gum really fast.”

The landing is easy, only a little bumpy which Charlie’s thankful for. He didn’t know what kind of metaphor that would be, if the whole flight back home was rough. But the plane lands, and they’re on the tarmac, and the passengers all sleepily applaud in that way that they always do, and Henry makes a face.

“How come people are clapping?” Henry asks kind of loudly, innocently judgmental in that way kids can be.

“They’re thanking the pilot for doing a good job.” Charlie explains.

“Why don’t they just thank him then?” Henry doesn’t buy it, and Charlie chuckles to himself.

This really is his kid, he thinks. He tries not to cry.

“We can thank him when we leave.” Charlie unbuckles their seatbelts, and he can tell Henry is antsy to stretch his legs.

“Should we stand up now?” Henry asks, always filled with questions this one.

“No.” Charlie shakes his head on response, only to have his son look around him with a raised eyebrow.

“But they’re all standing.” He gestures to people crowding the aisle.

“That’s because they’re impatient.” Charlie mutters, not wanting to piss anyone off. He feels like he’d snap if someone challenged him on something, even something small. “They can’t go anywhere, it takes the pilot a long time to make sure everything’s okay with the plane before they open the doors.”

“You’re really smart dad.” Henry sighs and rests his head against Charlie’s bicep and says so soft that Charlie almost misses it, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too honey.” Charlie blinks, the ache in his heart slowly healing, trying its best to hold itself together until he can sob into his pillow.

Now that they’re landed, Charlie can pull his cell-phone out – his regular one, not the burner phone – and thumbs through his contacts. His heart leaps in his throat when he opens up your messages, half-expecting to find a picture of your tits right there in his face. But no, he only finds the innocent messages of friends.

We landed, should be off the plane in 20. He types up, hits send and anxiously awaits your reply.

“Who are you texting?” Henry peers over his arm, nosy.

“(Y/N), she’s going to pick us up from the airport and drop us at home.” Charlie shows him, because there’s nothing to see except plans and flight numbers that he sent you so you could figure out the best time to leave the house.

“(Y/N)! I have something for her.” Henry brightens up immensely, and he doesn’t know why, but Charlie’s relieved by that.

His phone buzzes before the screen even has a chance to go dark, and he smiles at the response:

Okay! I’m circling, JFK’s a nightmare right now. Let me know when you’re close. Can’t wait to see you!

“Oh yeah, what?” Charlie asks as he puts the phone away back in his pocket.

“No I can’t tell you, it’s a surprise and you’re awful about keeping surprises.” Henry rolls his eyes and laughs as Charlie ruffles his hair again.

“Okay okay, fair enough.” He replies.

-----------------

Once they’re off the plane and away from the luggage carousel, once they’re down by the pick-up and drop off area, does Charlie feel warm. It’s a crisp forty-five degrees, and he’s in a sweater, but he knows it’s really because of you, because he knows soon he’ll see you.

You spot them before they can spot you, and he swears he’s dreaming when he sees your car pull up, when he sees you jump out of the driver’s side and open the trunk. He’s hot all over, itchy, he wants to hold you, wants to hug you.

It’s been two weeks since he’s seen you, and fuck, oh fuck does he just want to hold you.

“Hi guys!” You laugh in excitement as the wind from the terminal tunnel fluffs up your hair. “Here, let me help, you must be tired.”

You come around and grab their suitcases, and part of him knows he should do it, but with his arm fucked up the way it is, he isn’t so sure he can. But the second you’re finished, he pulls you into a tight hug.

“You bet, thank you so much for getting us.” Charlie whispers, and he can feel you shudder out a sigh of relief into the embrace.

“Of course, how’s my favorite Henry?” You say when you pull away and crouch to his level so he can run into your arms.

“I’m your only Henry!” He points out, laughing as you pick him up and swing him around playfully before setting him down.

“Shh, don’t tell the others.” You wink, opening the back door for him and ushering him inside, “Come on, buckle in, safety first.”

You all climb into the car, and Charlie can’t stop looking at you. After two weeks of not having you, you’re finally here. He’s jumpy, he wants to tackle you. But you’re driving, and he’s exhausted, and his arm hurts.

He’s so tired, but it’s a good kind of tired, now that he’s with you.

“How was the flight?” You ask the car, look at Henry through the rearview mirror for a second before turning your eyes back to the road.

“Good, not too bumpy.” Henry says happily, watching the city lights zip past the window as you keep up with the speeding traffic. “I had goldfish.”

“I hope they didn’t spoil your appetite, I was thinking we could go out for some pizza. What do you think?” You smile, just happy for them to be back, happy for them to be home.

“I think I’d kill for a slice.” Charlie says, and fuck he’s struck by how badly he wants to hold your hand. “How about you, Henry?”

“Yes!” His son cheers at the idea of proper pizza, and Charlie smiles sadly.

LA had a lot of things, but New York did too.

He nudges his hand against yours gently, carefully, only for the briefest of seconds before he’s pulling back.

New York had you.

-------------------------

Lately I seem to walk as though I had wings

Bump into things like someone in love

Each time I look at you

I'm limp as a glove

And feeling like someone in love

It’s late, but that doesn’t matter for the city that never sleeps. You make a pitstop at a favorite place, a little corner shop that only sells slices. The pizza is thin and folds in half like a dream, and Charlie can’t stop wolfing it down, can’t stop shoving it into his mouth. Nothing feels more like home than New York pizza, he thinks.

Especially when you and Henry are laughing about him behind your own slices.

It feels all too familiar, feels like it did when Nicole had fucked off for what Charlie thought was forever, when for six months Charlie cared for his son all on his own. Well, that’s a lie, remembering how so many nights were spent at this pizza joint, you and Henry laughing at him.

He hadn’t cared for his son all on his own.

“Hey Henry, what do you think about (Y/N) joining us for dinner tomorrow after you get back from school?” Charlie asks somewhat seriously, knowing that he’s killing the mood. But it’s an important question, and Henry can tell, even as he frowns.

“Why’d’ya ask it like that?” Henry asks before taking a big bite of crust.

“Well just because we’re going to have someone from the state come in and watch us, and I want to know if you’d rather have (Y/N) there for that or not.” He explains, looking at you before looking at his son. And as much as it hurts him to think of excluding you, he knows that whatever Henry is more comfortable with, he’d do. “It can be just the two of us, if you’d like.”

“Why’s someone watching us?” Henry asks, not angry or anything, just curious.

“Just to see how we are as a family, that’s all.” Charlie says.

He doesn’t say that it’s to see how fit he is as a parent, doesn’t say that it’s to make sure the house is livable, suitable, the best place for him. He doesn’t say there’s so much fucking pressure on this dinner to go well, doesn’t say that if anything bad happens they’ll side with Nicole and Nicole will win and he can’t have her win he just can’t –

“Well if they want to see the family, (Y/N)’s gotta be there too.” Henry says softly, like he’s nervous about it, and it shocks Charlie out of his own inner monologue. Henry looks at you, and almost like he’s worried you’re going to reject his broken family, he asks, “Don’t you?”

“If you want me, Henry.” You reply with a nod, because really, really this is about him.

About what’s best for him and his wants. He’s just a child, he shouldn’t have to know everything that he wants, shouldn’t have to have his whole upbringing uprooted because of it. But that’s what Nicole did to them, and that’s the way it is.

He’s old enough to know that, and it breaks Charlie’s heart.

“Yeah, you should be there.” Henry says, picking at some of the melted cheese that fell onto his piece of parchment paper.

You look at one another, and then you look at Charlie, and he doesn’t know how he isn’t supposed to cry. You can tell and so you stand up quickly, check your phone for the time.

“It’s getting late, I gotta drop you guys off at home! Want another slice to go? There’s nothing in your fridge, didn’t want it to spoil while your dad was away.” You say warmly, in that way that you always do, always there to diffuse a situation before it can even begin.

Charlie shakes himself, tries to get a grip. He doesn’t ever want to be a situation for you.

----------------------------------

Henry is practically falling asleep on the drive into the suburb where Charlie lives, where the new house is. You’d done a real good fucking number on it, turning it into a home while he was gone. It wasn’t something Charlie had any energy for, and so you took the two weeks to furnish it with things you thought they’d like. Henry is seeing it for the first time, but in a way, so is Charlie.

“Why don’t you go ahead honey?” Charlie says giving him the keys to go unlock the front door. “I’ll explore the house with you tomorrow, I’m beat.”

“Me too, time’s different here.” Henry says, and you chuckle a little at the way he’s jet-lagged like some old weary traveler. Henry grabs his backpack and runs into the house calling, “’Night dad, ‘night (Y/N)!”

“See you tomorrow sweetie.” You call after him, as Charlie comes around to your window and leans his arms against it. You look at him sadly, reach up to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into the touch, starved of you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to look at you a little more.” He says, kisses your palm. It’s dark in the suburb, only a couple streetlights lit. “Do you really have to go?”

“Now that Henry’s back we have to be more careful, you know that.” You sigh, and you’re right, he knows you’re right. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

“What if I need you now?” He tries, but you only pinch his cheek and give it a little pat.

“Bye Charlie.” You say, and he steps away from your car.

He watches you drive down the road, watches as you always remember to use your blinker, before disappearing around the corner.

He feels empty as soon as you’re gone.

--------------------------------------

Lately I seem to walk as though I had wings

Bump into things like someone in love

Each time I look at you

I'm limp as a glove

And feeling like someone in love

Feeling like someone in love

In love

The house is too quiet, dark.

He closes the front door, drops his luggage. He’s exhausted, fuck he’s so tired. He’s so tired, the kind of tired that’s settled too deep into his bones, that no amount of sleep can fix. He’s tired, and he’s terrified, but he’s too frayed around the edges to really feel it, to really feel anything.

Henry has already run up the stairs, already found his room. Charlie can hear the excited happy noises as Henry’s light-up sneakers illuminate the hallway. He’s found the bluetooth radio Charlie got him on a whim, and is playing some song Charlie doesn’t know.

Charlie makes his way up to the master bedroom, something foreign and new and yet filled with you. Your mark is absolutely everywhere, even in the very floorboards. He drops his luggage and steps out of his shoes, feeling like garbage as he makes his way to the shower. He just wants to scrub the day away, just wants to scrub the feeling of slimy dirty Los Angeles away, wants the New York water to rinse his sins down the drain.

He turns the water hot as it will go, scalding, and when he strips himself down and changes the dressings on the deep gash in his arm, he stares at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t know who he is anymore, what he’s doing anymore. He doesn’t know. The whole thing feels fruitless, feels pointless. He wants to smash the mirror, when he sees the bags under his eyes.

“God, I hate, this!” He says at himself in the mirror no one there to hear him. Henry’s all the way on the other side of the house, has music playing off his phone. The music and the rush of the shower drown out the sound of his shout.

He steps under the spray, leans himself up against the cold tile wall and just watches as water swirls at his feet. He needs to get clean, he knows, he won’t crawl into bed until he is, and fuck, does he desperately want to be in bed.

He wants to feel the cool sheets on his skin, wants to breathe in the scent of his pillow. He wonders if they still smell like you. You’ve been checking on the house while he was away screaming at Nicole, you slept in his bed. He wonders if you touched yourself under his covers.

His hand reaches for his dick before he even really knows it, just at the simple thought of you.

You, you, you.

He misses you.

He’s missed you the entire time he went away to fucking LA.

He thinks about how you would have been with him, how you would have looked. He thinks about how you would have smiled at him in the mornings, how that smile would have cut through the fog. He thinks about you, how you would have warmed the side of the bed next to his, how your breath on his face would have woken him, how your moans would have filled the space of the shitty little apartment he’s punched a hole in.

“(Y/N),” He lets his head tip back against the cold tile as soap and suds run down his body, as they slick up his cock, as he jerks himself off, “Oh, (Y/N).”

He thinks about how you would have fucked him, let him fuck you, after the bullshit. After the fight. He wonders if the fight would have even happened, if you had been there with him. He wonders if anything bad could ever happen if you’re there.

He speeds up his hand, grip on himself tight, trying to emulate your own hand. Your hands are soft, they’re supple, they’re well manicured and they know how to twist and grope and squeeze him just right. He imagines you on your knees in front of him, imagines the way soap would wash down in between your breasts imagines the way you’d guide his cock to your lips –

“Fuck,” He’s groaning, smacking his head against the wall as his hips buck into his hand, as he fucks his hand, wishing he were fucking you.

God, all he wants is you.

He comes all over his chest, nearly loses his footing, because he doesn’t realize it, but he’s used your body soap that you kept in the shower and now he smells like you and that’s so overwhelming that he’s afraid he’ll black out.

His heart hurts, when he comes down from his high, and he watches as the evidence of his arousal winds down and around, going down the drain, like so much in his life.

He throws a hand out and shuts off the water, desperate for you. He knows he can call, he knows, you always pick up. He’s got the little burner phone with just one number programmed in. He can’t save it, he’s too afraid to save it, but if anyone were to look at the call log, it’s all you, just you.

He fumbles out of the shower to get himself dried off, stumbles into bed. The wound on his arm is bleeding, again, and he has a spike of panic that the bandages won’t be enough, again. He’ll deal with it later, in the morning, he doesn’t give a shit.

Right now all he needs is you.

The burner phone is in his pants pocket, right where he abandoned it next to the bed. He squints against the bright light of the screen as his fingers already know where to go, his hand already knows what to do. He can’t bear to bring it up to his face, not right now, not like this, so instead he rests the phone on his chest and turns it on speaker, listening to it as it rings.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” He begs the universe, eyes closed, fingers crossed, hoping hoping hoping it’s not too late.

“Charlie?” You ask, and fuck, oh fuck, he could cry, maybe he is crying, because that’s your voice. It’s music to his ears, it’s an original score winning best awards in every show, it’s a symphony at the philharmonic and he wants to give you a standing ovation as you ask, “Is everything okay?”

You’re worried, concerned for him. That brings him down to earth, the worry.

“Yeah, it’s – no it’s not. Fuck, are you, can you – ” He can’t lie to you now, but he doesn’t know what the fuck to even say, he doesn’t know.

You’re so good to him, so kind to him, so patient. He doesn’t know, but you do, you do because he can hear shuffling on the other end of the line, can hear you throwing the sheets off of your body, can hear you rummaging in your dresser for clothes.

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” You say, you promise, and it feels like he’s just been granted some illegal wish, some chance he shouldn’t have.

His hands shake as they rake through his wet hair, as he licks his lips, as he tries to tell himself to stay calm for just ten minutes, it’s only ten more minutes without you.

“Door’s unlocked.” He whispers into the phone, and you’re nodding, he can tell you’re nodding, by the way the phone statics up.

“Love you.” You say, and damn, no one’s said that to him in so long.

No one’s said it and meant it, other than you.

Ten minutes feels like ten years, when he’s in bed without you. He waits, just waits for you, his ears trained on the front door, waiting waiting waiting. He nearly falls off the bed when he hears you, finally, stepping into the house and locking up behind him. You come up the stairs two at a time, push open the bedroom door and take in the sight of him.

He’s managed to pull on sleep-pants, something soft and long to warm him, but he’s bare chested and his arm is still bandaged, and you tend to that first.

“Oh Charlie honey, what the hell happened, to you?” You ask, collecting him in your arms.

Something about that, about that simple embrace, has him sobbing in your hands. He’s been so emotional, this whole fucking week, so emotional. He doesn’t know how to handle any of it, it’s all so new, all so stressful. He’s so fucking stressed out, so he cries and cries and you just hold him tight as he clings to you.

You’re talking about the cut on his arm, the one that you now see because he’s shirtless. He’d been wearing a sweater since the airport was always fucking freezing, and you hadn’t seen it. But now you do, and that’s what you’re talking about, even though really you could have been talking about his whole life.

What the hell happened to him?

“It was stupid – I did that dumb fucking thing with the knife – ” He tries to explain, and you’re immediately rummaging through his pants.

“Where is it?” You ask, not unkindly, just insistently.

“What?” He’s confused, he’s so wrapped up in the thought of you, in the thought of you actually being here with him, that he missed the question.

You lean down to kiss him, and Charlie’s whole body tingles, his whole self comes alive. He’s never felt so alive, as to when you kiss him.

“The knife, the keys. Where is it?” You ask gently, rubbing a soothing little circle on his cheek.

“It’s on the night-stand.” He answers, leaning over and grabbing them, handing them to you, offering them to you.

He’d offer anything to you.

He’s offering you everything he has.

You take them and unclip the knife off the keychain, throw it into the waste basket, collect his face up in your hands again, kiss him again. You kiss him over and over and his sobs subside into hiccupping little gasps, little pants against your mouth.

He feels like a drowning man and you’re the only clean lungful of air he’s had in years.

“You’re never doing that trick again, do you hear me? It’s not funny, I don’t want Henry thinking it’s funny. You need stitches, we need to get you stitches.” You’re not angry, which he’s grateful for.

You’re worried, which kills him. He almost wishes you were angry instead of worried.

“We’ll go in the morning, after he goes to school, for now I just,” He trembles, shakes shakes shakes, “I want to be close to you, I need that (Y/N), I need to be close to you.”

He’s begging, he knows he is. Hands clasped before you he pleads for comfort, comfort he aches for.

The cooling balm of your love is his savior, and when you lean back only far enough to strip yourself out of your own clothes, when you come back towards him with open arms that you encourage him to throw himself into, he could scream shout sob with relief.

“You’ve got me, I’m here, I’m all yours.” You whisper, holding him close close close to your chest.

“Are you? Are you mine?” He whispers back, terrified, so terrified that this is all just a dream, that he’s still on the floor of his tiny fucking apartment in Los Angeles, bleeding out on the floor.

“I am, I promise Charlie, I am.” But you’re really real, and you’re really combing your fingers through his hair, and his heart is really racing even as you’re trying to calm him down. “You’re okay honey, it’s okay.”

He wrangles out of your grip, and you frown, brow creasing as he maneuvers the two of you so your positions are reversed, so he can press you into the mattress and prop himself on top of you. You are so beautiful, in the moonlight, the glow of the streetlamps washing over you, some ethereal thing.

He can’t help but litter your body with praise, adoration leaking from his fingertips. He can’t help it, not when you deserve it so, when you are the most deserving of it at all. He is reverent in the way he caresses your body, hands skimming the softness of your flesh, lips trailing after it as he presses kisses into your skin.

“Thank you, for being here, for being with me.” He is so grateful, so completely grateful for you, “Thank you, I don’t – I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”

He rests his head on your stomach and just stays there for a while, just stays there while he kisses your sides, before moving further down your body and opening your hips up, pressing your legs down flat onto the mattress on either side of his head.

“You don’t have to do it without me, I’m right here.” You sigh as he sucks marks onto your hips, fingers bruising the meat of your thighs with ease, not even realizing how tight of a grip he’s got on you.

You are the only good thing he’s had in so long, the only thing in this fucked up divorce that he knows he can count on, the only thing that he knows for sure who wants him.

He’s not even sure if Henry wants him.

“She’s winning.” Charlie says softly, on the verge of screaming. He wants to scream, but instead he focuses that energy into you, into your body, his fingers slipping between your legs and pushing into you, making your toes curl into the sheets. “She’s winning, (Y/N). She’s going to win and fucking take him away. This will be the last time he’s here. His first and last.”

“No she won’t.” You gasp as he shoves his nose into the crease where your thigh meets your pussy, how beautiful it is just for him, how it throbs. He wonders if you’ve been just as sick about it, about the distance, about missing him, as he has missed you.

“How do you know?” He asks, hopes, wants to know, wants some sort of answer that he knows you can’t give, not really. You can’t predict the future, you can’t sway the judge.

“I just do.” You say, and your back arches when he fingers you harder, when he draws out a moan, a real proper moan, from deep inside your cunt. Your hand comes down to tangle in his hair, and the sting of your pull is so good against his scalp, and you ask, “Have I ever been wrong before?”

“No – ” He shakes his head, kisses your body, kisses everywhere he can reach.

“Exactly.” You whisper, as he tries so hard to get as close to you as possible, as he tries to make up for the lost time, all that time of him being away, being across the country with a wife who doesn’t want him. He tries to express how much he adores you through the press of his fingers on your body, tries to express his gratitude as you beckon him up up up, asking, “Give me a kiss? My lips are lonely.”

“They are?” His eyes soften, and he aches for you, as he comes to your call, as he removes his fingers from the wet heat between your legs and smears your own slick across your cheek as he kisses you.

“They are, I get lonely when you’re gone.” You admit, and he’s so relieved in a sick sort of way, so pleased that you missed him too, that you thought about him too, thought about him from three thousand miles away.

“Come with me next time, to Los Angeles.” He says, more of an order than an ask, more of a demand than a plea. He kicks himself mentally for that, for being controlling, Nicole left him because he’s controlling, he can’t make that same mistake with you, so as he cups your cheeks in the moonlight he searches your eyes and adds, “Please?”

But you, you you you.

You just smile and nod and kiss him, when you say, “Yes.”

“Will you stay?” He murmurs against your lips, and you’re putty in his hands, you’re too tired to object, not that you want to.

“Yeah, we can come up with something to tell him.” You whisper, rubbing your nose against his, as your heart beats next to his.

“Once all this is over, I swear to you there’s gonna be no more hiding.” He cards a hand through your hair. “No more sneaking around, not ever again.”

“You’re worth the wait, you know?” You say, and there you go again, shattering his whole world, his whole perception of life, with those words. “You have to know that.”

He doesn’t, not really. Maybe he does. The selfish part of him does.

He doesn’t feel selfish around you.

Maybe that’s the most selfish thing.

“I love you.” He says, because it’s all he knows how to say right now, all he knows that’s true.

“I love you too.” You smile back at him, before having to clear your throat a little. “I’m thirsty, want something to drink from the kitchen? The fridge is the fancy kind, has the filter right in the door.”

“Yeah, better have some.” He nods, not wanting to let you go.

He does anyway, because nothing’s about what he wants anymore.

“I’ll be right back.” You kiss his cheek, and put your clothes back on.

You have a spare change of clothes in the dresser from when you spent the nights there getting the place ready, but there’s no sense in putting on a brand new outfit to go downstairs. Charlie watches you leave the bedroom, and just because he can, just because he’s missed you so much, he pulls on some pajama bottoms and creeps to the edge of the stairs.

“(Y/N)?” He hears Henry’s sleepy voice upon your arrival.

Charlie winces, heart racing.

“Hey Henry, what are you doing awake?” You say softly, keeping your composure, trying to appear as casual as possible.

“I can’t sleep, my body’s still on LA time.” Henry sighs, and Charlie feels awful, maybe he should have read him a bedtime story or something before having a nervous breakdown in the bathroom. But then Henry asks, “How come you’re here?”

And he freezes, ears trained to know what you say so he knows how to verify it in the morning.

“Your dad forgot something in the car so I came back over.” You lie easily. But is it a lie? He forgot his heart, in the passenger seat of your car. You only returned to put it back into his chest. You’re opening up the cabinets, Charlie can hear it when you say, “I know what’ll help, how does a mug of hot tea sound?”

“Will you make it with lemon and honey like you used to?” Henry asks, and there’s that reminder again, of the six months where you and Charlie scrambled, tried your damnedest to preserve what was left of this family.

Henry had used that word, hadn’t he? Family.

“You bet, and two cubes of sugar.” You say, rustling around with something, probably the box of sugar.

“(Y/N)?” Henry asks again, his voice so small, and Charlie holds his breath.

“Yeah?” You ask right back, setting the kettle to boil.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Henry says.

“I’m glad I’m here too.” You reply, “I missed you kiddo, both of you.”

He can’t see, but maybe you’re hugging.

He can’t see, but maybe you’re smiling at each other.

He can’t see, but maybe everything will be okay.

Maybe it’ll all be okay.

Lately I seem to walk as though I had wings

Bump into things like someone in love

Each time I look at you

I'm limp as a glove

And feeling like someone in love

Feeling like someone in love

In love

------------------------

Tagging some pals! @steeevienicks @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @goodboybensolo @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan @flapjacques @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene @pinkmoontribe-blog @schopenhauerdeathsquad

#charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber/reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber/you #marriage story #adam driver marriage story #adam driver character #my writing #mind and soul #charlie barber fluff #charlie barber smut #charlie barber angst

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puttingfingerstokeys · 4 years ago

Text

a friend in need

this one like, makes no sense within the new kontinuity but like, here ya go--fuck it! Pretty much Shao Kahn is invading (as one does), Kronika is absolutely messing with the timelines, and this is definitely like 25 years in the future so you have Dad!Johnny and a Liu Kang who has just flirted with death by Raiden, who is now wielding Shinnok’s shitty amulet, which means Shinnok is also headless, but like fuck that guy amirite? This time, he doesn’t deliver the head to Revenant Kitana and Liu Kang because they aren’t revenants, there was no assault on the netherrealm. OH and as always, uh, tumblr doesn’t preserve italics so if it’s incoherent ... it’s ‘cause I’m a lazy piece of shit and I didn’t wanna go back through and dig ‘em up.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Faraday Cage (implied??)

Prevented Timeline

Energy crackled and radiated outward, sparking off pavement, trees, vehicles, people—anything with which it came in contact. Fires had erupted all over and people were fighting them as best they could, but with little hope of relief. At the center was an angry god, grieved at great loss, enraged beyond his own ability to control.

Earthrealm could not be protected by a weak, fatherly deity; Raiden understood that now, and it scared him. His own weakness scared him. His foolishness scared him. The “justice” of the Elder Gods scared him. He would end this fight and all fights, because they, for some reason, were not. He had to do this; there was no other way. Why did no one understand? He was singular in his purpose and not even the chosen of Earthrealm, Liu Kang, could stand in his way.

Raiden had taken his own advice, a frightful echo from a future as yet unknown, an Armageddon which killed them all, himself included. It had taken many trials and many more errors to realize his own, true meaning.

“He must win.”

Raiden had finally reached the conclusion that the “he” in question was not Liu Kang, earthrealm’s chosen, but Shao Kahn, the bloodthirsty outworld dictator. Reality shivered under the threat of the merging, however, and still the Elder Gods did not step in. How far would this have to go? Did they know that Shao Kahn’s army was, even now, trampling the tenuous pact between the realms? Did they care?

“Liu, over here!” It was Johnny Cage, older now, a father, and proud of his little girl, but right now, damn near shitting in his britches to see Raiden this way. He offered an arm and pulled Liu Kang to his feet. He and a few others were taking shelter behind a small building which shook with the march of outworld foot soldiers and presently began to flicker with a terrible energy.

Raiden had warned himself, somehow, that the merging of realms must begin, that this was the meaning of victory in his own prophetic words, for the Elder Gods to step in. Shao Kahn had begun his dark work, however, and still nothing moved, nothing in favor of the forces of light and justice, anyway. It seemed the Elder Gods had a different idea of what it meant to maintain balance.

“Your tournament is canceled, puny god! I have rescinded my generous invitation!” Shao Kahn called, raising his great hammer to the sky as Outworld merged with Earthrealm, tearing down buildings and reconstructing them in hideous amalgams. People fled and were trampled; people stood and were gored. He would line the streets with bodies before the day was out and only Raiden stood before him. Raiden, who had fought his own, dear Liu Kang, who had defied him nearly to death.

Had he died? Was Liu Kang dead? Raiden could not see him. He could not see anything past the haze of fury clouding his vision and judgment. I have killed him, again, as it was said I always will, as I always must. The thought was errant, not his own, and be brushed it aside, focusing on Shao Kahn and the present. It was his only choice.

“He… Johnny—you should have seen his eyes,” Liu Kang gasped, slumping to his rear-end near the wall. Jacqui Briggs stooped to examine him, checking for external injuries, and wishing for a better facility in which to check for internal. She was no expert, but godly lightning probably left a different mark.

“I see ‘em from here, Liu, and it’s… this is fucked,” grunted the Hollywood star, handing the binoculars over to his daughter, Cassie. She shook her head.

“He said we had to let Shao Kahn win, or else the Elder Gods would never step in,” gasped Liu Kang between labored breaths. Something was definitely wrong and if it was not treated soon, it could become permanent. “They… aren’t stepping in—I knew they didn’t care about us. I…” He groaned in agony and Jacqui pushed him back down.

“Hold still, Chosen One, your guts’ve been rearranged by a pissed off god—maybe take it easy.”

“If I ‘take it easy’, we all die,” Liu Kang snapped, jaw tight. Jacqui gave him a look that suggested she would take no lip, no matter how damn chosen he was. She could see from the way he held himself, the way his muscles tensed and tightened, that he was going to get much worse before he got better, especially if he pushed. They might not have a choice, soon enough, but while they did, there was no point risking it.

He met her gaze, burning with rage and sadness, with his own. They were matched in this way, both earthrealm natives with everything and more to lose, both people who had fought, tooth and nail, against this very thing. Sitting by idly and wishing things were otherwise was not something to which either Liu Kang or Jacqui Briggs were accustomed.

“Dad!” They looked up suddenly at Cassie’s shout, pulled from their moment of mutual grief. She was reaching out to an empty space where Johnny had just been standing. Before she could go after him, Jacqui was at her back, grasping her elbow, hard.

“No,” she hissed, “you’ll be fried—we don’t know if Raiden’s friendly anymore… if he ever was.” Cassie jerked her elbow away, but Jacqui held tight and shook her head. “I mean it, Cass. Your dad’s… gunna do what he’s gunna do, just like mine.”

With effort, she pulled Cassie back and away from the violent arcs of red lightning that were even now consuming trees and landscaping, cars, enemy soldiers, anything within the dome of the thunder god’s power—an area that was growing.

Raiden and Shao Kahn met somewhere in the middle, just beyond the portal the Outworld emperor had opened to begin the invasion and merging of Earthrealm to his blasted home. Still, the Elder gods did not stir.

Shao Kahn’s hammer swung mightily and met a fist that moved with swift violence. A thunderclap resounded, flattening the area and then cratering it. Neither hand nor head of hammer shattered, but that was of no consequence to Shao Kahn, who reached out and hauled Raiden forward by his collar.

The thunder god looked into the emperor’s animal eyes and neither hated nor pitied him. Raiden’s rage was beyond petty hatred for the man which had caused his beloved Earthrealm so much grief over the centuries. He would simply destroy Shao Kahn. It had become singularly simple in his eyes. He had been a fool. He would end this once and for all, for everyone, forever.

Perhaps it was the look, the nearly directionless fury which met his eyes that made Shao Kahn drop Raiden. Johnny Cage, who had worked himself much closer than was probably safe, watched from a ways off and still could not pinpoint what it was that had Shao Kahn backing away from the thunder god.

“It is forbidden for you to fight,” Shao Kahn warned, with more authority and sureness in his voice than it seemed he felt. Even his minions began to back away as Raiden’s arced, red lightning crashed violently into them, disintegrating here, vaporizing there, starting fires all over. Raiden’s chest heaved with the effort of either sustaining the onslaught, or holding it back, Johnny wasn’t sure.

On that heaving chest, Shinnok’s awful amulet pulsed with life and light, beckoning and promising strength. Raiden reached for it, but hesitated, seemingly doubting himself for the merest fraction of a second. It was in that span of time that Shao Kahn regained his courage and swung again. This time, he would have caught the god of thunder on the chin, had it not been for the quick footwork of Johnny Cage.

This time, boots met hammer and the clash was not so even. Shao Kahn drove Johnny back into a building. His back hit concrete and he was certain he felt something snap, but if he gave up now, Raiden was absolutely going to do something stupid. He didn’t understand Shinnok’s power, or even who and what Shinnok really was, or had been, as the case was, but he knew an evil piece of jewelry when he saw it.

“Time for a scene change,” he grunted, pushing himself to his feet and spitting blood. The tang of adrenaline was on his tongue and coursed through his veins, making him hyper focus upon this detail or that. Johnny fancied he could hear Cassie screaming somewhere in the distance, but right now, his focus was on the battle before him.

“You are too weak to use that amulet on me, or anyone, thunder god,” Shao Kahn mocked, manufacturing enough bravado to satisfy his immense ego. Raiden grimaced, as if considering whether or not the man was right. He ground his teeth and once more moved to grasp Shinnok’s amulet. Shao Kahn struck again, this time with a boot.

Raiden was forced to block this with a cross before his chest and to step back. He balled one fist and surrounded it with lightning, shaking his head. “You do not know my power,” he growled, “but rest assured, Shao Kahn, you will.” Raiden discharged the lightning at Shao Kahn, who used his hammer as a ground and laughed.

“Pathetic, and weak.” Each descriptor was punctuated with a sharp wag of his finger toward Raiden’s chest and the deadly amulet which sat thereupon.

“I am not weak—I am doing as I have always done. I am protecting Earthrealm.” His hand once more rose to the amulet. “Whatever that takes, I will do it.”

With that, he wound up a massive store of radiant, red energy and hurled it at Shao Kahn. The tyrant was hurled back mightily, taking out a score of his foot soldiers as he flew. Raiden continued forward, his pace slow, but deliberate. The troops of outworld were suddenly cowed by this display, as if their fellows being randomly vaporized had not been enough. Something had shifted, they sensed, and they began to back away.

“You are forbidden, Raiden!” This time, Shao Kahn’s voice was laced with fear; the confidence he had earlier displayed with his first remark of this kind had evidently deserted him in the face of what Raiden had become. Once more, the deity slowly reached for Shinnok’s amulet. It was as if a very small part of him still fought for his own innocence, whatever might have been left of it.

Meanwhile, Johnny had begun to close the distance between himself and the wrathful god. He could feel his hair standing on end with the force of the red lightning radiating outward from Raiden’s body. He was tense, the actor could see that from where he was, and… Are those tears? He shook off the thought as a stray bolt vaporized a fire hydrant less than a yard from him; it burst into a geyser of city water which soon began raining down upon everyone in the vicinity.

Johnny ducked behind a bike rack, realized that was probably a poor choice of cover, and scuttled along on the ground until he found a trash bin that looked as if it was made of plastic composite, rather than anything that might conduct those wicked red arcs of enraged power. His heart was hammering a thousand miles per hour and for a moment, he wondered if that was the first sign of an electricity-induced heart attack. Maybe he had been struck and did not realize it.Thinking about the ramifications of that hurt his head, so he stopped and decided to do what he did best.

“Now or never,” he told himself, taking a deep breath and fully expecting to be vaporized like the fire hydrant. It would be guts, however, not water spraying about, if he was lucky. Speaking of the water, too much of it, and Johnny would be zapped for sure; he was already soaked to the bone. Oh like it’s any different than what I’m about to do, he hissed internally, covering his face to keep his sunglasses dry. He needed to be able to see for this one. Johnny simply told himself that god lightning was different than the regular stuff and, in a burst of foolish energy, tossed himself around the trash bin and ran, full tilt, toward Raiden’s position.

A wayward bolt struck his glasses, tossing them from his face and exploding stars before his eyes. Johnny stumbled and, somewhere in the distance—she sounded thousands of miles away—he thought he could hear Cassie’s voice calling his name. He prayed someone was holding her back, because if this went south, as he was almost sure it would, she would be about to fight a hurricane with a pair of pistols. Raiden was not going to be stopped, but Johnny felt that it was his duty to try. Liu’s shouldered too fuckin’ much already—my turn, he reasoned, forcing himself to keep going, running harder and faster than he had ever done in his life.

Raiden had stopped his inexorable stride and Shao Kahn looked on in bewilderment as the earthrealm action star closed the gap, running directly into that deadly lightning. He had been so sure Johnny’s miserable back had broken against that building. There was something to be said for the tenacity of a cornered, wounded animal.

The god turned his head, acknowledging Johnny with eyes as red as his lightning. Sure as shit, Johnny thought, noting that Raiden was, indeed, in tears, though they did not seem to be saline, as a human’s might be—they stood out, even upon his pale flesh, catching light and reflecting it like diamonds—or perhaps rubies, stained by the power of his rage.

“Stop it, man!” Johnny called, reaching a hand out. Raiden still did not move, but neither did he cease his bombardment. Shao Kahn’s forces were at a standstill, watching, for once uncertain of the correct path. Some were even edging toward the portal, back to outworld and relative safety. “Raiden—you listening to me? You don’t hafta—”

A bolt struck him square in the chest and he dropped to his knees, eyes wide, staring with pain and fear at the man—the god—who had struck him down. Raiden seemed to shift a little at that and then to turn. Johnny had caught his attention and would have held it but for Shao Kahn’s voice. “An earthrealm fraud has halted your march, Lord Raiden—what sort of god are you?!” He urged his forces forward, but no one stirred. Shao Kahn looked around and once more met Raiden’s eyes, which were again trained upon him. Raiden covered Shinnok’s dark amulet with his hand.

“No more.”

Cassie continued to scream. Johnny could hear her now. He was coming to, realizing that he was not, in fact, dead, nor even too terribly scorched. At the last moment, evidently, the magic of his strange heritage had leapt up to protect him, but he could feel in his bones that this would not happen again. He had one chance. For Cassie, he thought, all those kids—for Liu and Sonya, for Jax, and Earthrealm. His heart thudded and he started forward, first at a trot, the once more at a leaping gallop. For Raiden.

Before the god could respond, Johnny Cage had tossed his arms around that broad, pillar-like torso. He had never realized just how big Raiden actually was, and thought perhaps he had allowed himself to retain a human size when dealing directly with them. He had to have been at least seven feet tall and change, but Johnny held tight all the same. He could feel the surge of anger within his own body, as if it belonged to him, originated IN him—and it scared him.

“Christ,” he grunted, “is this what you’re feeling?”

It was then that the outworld dictator chose to rush them. With him leading the charge, his hordes felt renewed confidence and vigor and lunged forth as one, howling their triumph over earthrealm. Raiden seemed frozen in place, but only for a moment. He seemed suddenly to come back to himself, as if he had been far away, no longer in control of his limbs or actions—certainly of his lightning.

He wrapped one powerful arm around Johnny, who still held him, and with the other, lashed a wide, sweeping arc of blue-white lightning across the crowd, thus releasing his hold on the wicked amulet. Shao Kahn’s hammer protected him, but his troops were not so lucky. There was a smell of ozone and charred flesh left hanging in the air when Shao Kahn opened his eyes and straightened.

“Send your champion to face me, then!” Shao Kahn shouted, beating his chest, his hubris undiminished. His tone was desperate, and he seemed far too eager, too frantic, to regain and retain control over this place. Johnny looked to Raiden, then back to Shao Kahn. He knew what this meant. He’d been at this long enough.

“So you’re declaring Mortal Kombat?” Johnny was going to be absolutely clear on this one, since… god contracts and all that—or something. He wasn’t wholly certain on this point, but it seemed to be the right thing to do. Shao Kahn seemed actually to consider this. His troops were slaughtered or retreating, Raiden was placated for the time being, but who knew how long that could last? His konquest had begun unlawfully, but for the loophole of his not quite initiating a merging of realms. That would be his next step—because if there existed no earthrealm champions to defend her, then who would stop him?

“Yes, earthrealm clown,” Shao Kahn rumbled, slapping the handle of his great hammer on one rough palm.

“Mime, actually,” came another voice from across a few lanes of what would have been traffic. Emerging from the alley where they were taking shelter, Liu Kang led their friends, injured and whole, into the open. He was supported by a grimacing Jacqui Briggs, but it was clear from his expression that no was not an answer he would be hearing today. Raiden’s shoulders sagged a little in relief; he had not killed Liu Kang after all.

“Thank you, Liu—wait hang on…” Johnny narrowed his eyes at his friend, a younger version of Liu Kang, one he had not seen in years, that was, before all this fuckery came about. The Shaolin fighter did not respond and seemed, for a moment, not to be able to meet Johnny’s eyes. In fact, if Johnny wasn’t tripping completely, he could have sworn that the guy was blushing. Still got it, he thought, grinning.

Before he could continue, however, Cassie broke into a gait he very much recognized as one that signaled extreme displeasure. Her face held a look of grim determination as she stomped toward her father. Johnny knew he was in for it and backed away, hands up.

“Whoa, whoa, pumpkin, easy, huh?” He looked between Shao Kahn and his daughter and realized he would rather face the outworld tyrant. “C’mon—easy, what was your old man s’posed to do?”

“Not get fried by a pissed off god and leave me a fucking ORPHAN? MAYBE?” Her voice held an edge of hysterical panic he did not like. “Oh. Shit…” she stammered, stopping just as her path crossed Raiden’s. “I’m—sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” said the god, inclining his head toward her, “but you are not incorrect.”

Cassie was sheepish and mumbled another apology. Raiden seemed to understand her position, however, and addressed it no more. Instead, he turned his attention upon the waiting tyrant.

“When will this foolishness subside so that I can begin the konquest of your filthy realm, Raiden?!” Shao Kahn was growing impatient. “The earthrealmer has declared Mortal Kombat and I accept, on the terms that, when I win, the merge will begin and you, pitiful servant of the Elder Gods, will stand aside and bow to their will as you have always done!”

Johnny’s jaw tightened at this hateful commentary upon Raiden’s character, but for once in his life, he held his tongue. Now was not the time to bandy words with dictators and monsters; now was the time to make them eat those words with a garnish of ball-crushing whoop-ass.

“It is my destiny to fight Shao Kahn,” Liu Kang hissed, eyeing Johnny, his gaze flinty. The hardness in his voice and tone belied the real fear that they were thwarting destiny and tempting a fate no one was equipped to handle. His eyes snapped to Raiden, then, pleading. Raiden shook his head. Jacqui echoed the movement. Even now, protesting this, Liu leaned heavily upon her, in no condition to fight.

“Guess it’s not, Liu—stand back and watch.” Johnny would hear no more, turning toward his opponent and shouting. “I accept your terms, Shao Kahn—winner take all.” I mean, I’m not gunna take over outworld, but like… it sounds pretty good when I say it out loud, his fevered brain nattered.

He must win. Raiden’s own, incomprehensible words came back to him in a sickening echo he still wondered, even now, to whom his future self had been referring. He had been so sure it was Shao Kahn, but that sureness had nearly killed his chosen champion. He met Liu Kang’s furious gaze.

“By the rules of Mortal Kombat, the challenge must be taken up by the one who declared it. I am sorry, Liu Kang, but this fight indeed belongs to Johnny Cage.”

Johnny heard his name, but no more. He was focused, utterly and completely, upon Shao Kahn, who stood a few yards hence, leaning upon the head of his hammer and observing the company with such arrogance, it turned Johnny’s guts. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his head upon broad shoulders.

“Okay big guy, you heard the god. Let’s fuckin’ go.” He dropped into a deep stance and beckoned Shao Kahn. The tyrant chuckled, the sound a raspy, hollow thing, mirthless and full of contempt and triumph for a victory he had not yet won.

Johnny made the first move, using his distance to gain speed and launch into a combination of forceful, heavy kicks which utilized his size and the length of his legs. Shao Kahn blocked these with little effort and jabbed in return, hoping to push Johnny off balance.

The years had made him wily and this was not the Johnny Cage that Shao Kahn remembered, so cocksure and arrogant, his insecurities showing upon his countenance like a glowing sign, pushed by his own self doubt to showboat and make light of his own skill. This Johnny was an old veteran of many ugly fights; he was vicious, clever, and quick.

Using the tyrant’s momentum against him, Johnny ducked around him and launched into a hard kick to the back of Shao Kahn’s head. This, the tyrant bore with an enraged snarl, a stumble, and a wide, arcing swing of the hammer. That swing, too, Johnny dodged, spitting in his opponent’s direction. “Gunna hafta do better’n that, slugger!”

“So your arrogance has not been tempered,” Shao Kahn commented. “Good, good. That will make your defeat all the more satisfying.” He laughed viciously and swung the hammer down, shaking the ground around them. Johnny found himself out of sorts for a moment, but it was long enough for Shao Kahn to catch him up in one hand, tossing the hammer aside and plying both powerful limbs to their grim task. He lifted Johnny over his head and began to bend. “Do you see your champion, Thunder God?”

Raiden, formerly watching with a mask of impassive disinterest, was suddenly assaulted by visions of Johnny Cage, broken nearly in two, over the shoulders of this selfsame tyrant. He could hear Shao Kahn’s triumphant laugh, the horrified scream of Sonya Blade, the heartbroken, barely-audible moan of Liu Kang. As he blinked, the entire scene flashed behind his eyes and, without thinking, he stretched forth one hand and fired a bolt of pure, blue-white lightning.

With a single shot, Raiden, god of thunder and protector of earthrealm, ended it all.

Shao Kahn was vapor, dust in the light breeze that had begun to pick up. Johnny picked himself up, heart hammering once more, and looked between the two. Shao Kahn had been mere moments from snapping him in half, powerful hands crushing him wherever they reached, his back beginning to feel the strain of the man’s prodigious strength when, all at once, it was over and he was on the ground.

Coughing and righting himself, Johnny’s only thought was for the thunder god and he rushed back to where Raiden stood, staring, shocked (there was a pun here someplace), at his own hand, as if he had never before seen it. The amulet, curiously, remained upon his chest, unused, bearing no mark of having been harnessed.

“I…” Raiden stammered as Johnny reached him. The others now turned their attention upon Johnny Cage and Raiden, who had sunk to the ground together, Johnny’s rough hands finding either side of Raiden’s face. They were murmuring—mostly Johnny, in point of fact—and no one was sure if they should get close. Liu Kang directed them away and gestured that they ought to start dealing with the portal, which was still open and the merging, which was, indeed, continuing its inexorable work. He hoped, silently, that the Elder Gods actually did decide to step in, because he was no sorcerer, nor was he a god and could not see himself becoming either in the near future.

“Hey,” Johnny hissed, “it’s okay—it’s gunna be fine… You finished it, y’know? It’s—”

“It is not over, Johnny Cage,” responded the god, eyes downcast. “I have upset the balance; the Elder Gods will be furious. The consequences—”

“Seriously,” Johnny interrupted, “fuck the Elder Gods—what’ve they done for us, huh?” Raiden’s eyes opened wide at these words of blasphemy and he reached out to grasp the lapels of Johnny’s vest.

“You know not of what you speak, Johnny Cage,” warned Raiden. Johnny hated that fearful look on Raiden’s face. It was foreign and wrong and did not belong there. Johnny scowled deeply.

“I know a thing or three about shit parents… Listen, this whole… fatherhood thing, y’know, it blows sometimes—no offense Cass; I love ya pumpkin—and it’s… like a never-ending cavalcade of horseshit, nonsense, and doubt.” He shook his head. “I had ONE. I can’t imagine being the… like, dad of a whole-ass world…realm… thingy.” Pursing his lips, Johnny searched for his next words, choosing them carefully. “We spend our whole damn lives worrying and wondering if we did all we could—if we fucked up somewhere along the way and if that… y’know, if it caused more pain than it should’ve, or… more than we knew at the time, or could ever know.” He sighed. “And yeah, it’s gunna do that—it will do that. You’re going to hurt your kids and sometimes meaning well isn’t the be-all, end-all… the ends don’t always justify the means and all that shit… But the bottom line here is that a good parent does THAT, y’know, looks back and… worries… about the process. Getting there ain’t always half the fun, big guy—and frankly, whoever-the-fuck got you here, where you are right now? They’re not the good kind. Just sayin’.”

Raiden looked as if he had never been told that the Elder Gods were poor parents. He looked as if he had never considered them parents at all, which Johnny supposed made sense, since they weren’t exactly physical beings or whatever, but sometimes, one had to wonder at the “my ways are higher than your ways” explanation. He, still holding either side of Raiden’s face, pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. “We’re gunna be all right, man—I promise. I… we… no one’s gunna let anything happen to you—y’know or earthrealm, or whatever.” He had clearly run out of words, for the time being.

“Thank you, Johnny Cage,” whispered Raiden solemnly. “Your faith and fair words mean more to me than you can know.”

“Ah, one more thing, though.” Evidently, Johnny was not completely out of words. “Just… Just Johnny, please? Whenever I hear the whole thing, I kinda assume I’m in deep shit—y’know and y’really don’t wanna go there with a god—‘specially not the kind who can do… y’know, what you just did.”

Raiden regarded what he had just done very carefully, then regarded Johnny. This, he supposed, was a request he could grant, but it felt strange, not addressing him that way.

“If I am correct, then we are, all of us, in ‘deep shit’.”

“Lord Raiden,” Liu Kang called, hobbling toward them. “Forgive me, but that portal isn’t closing itself and I…”

Raiden shook his head and stood, grasping Johnny’s hands and pulling the man with him. “I will make this right,” he promised, stepping away from the mortals and lifting into the air. Once more, energy crackled all around, but it bore the tranquil, blue-white glow that they were accustomed to seeing. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at that.

Cassie approached her father slowly. He seemed dazed. She could have slapped him, but she wasn’t sure that wouldn't trigger some kind of heart attack. Johnny’s eyes were wide, fixed on the hovering thunder deity.

“You ah… okay, dad?”

“I don’t… I dunno, kid. I’m not sure. But he is… and right now, that’s kinda what we need.”

#CC #CW #Faraday Cage #mortal kombat #listen I am just fucking with this multiverse timeline thing so y'know #go wild

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evwuniverse · 5 years ago

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Drama in Virtual Worlds

We have all heard about various terminologies through the years as technology continues to advance. Words like internet trolls and cyberbullies tend to ring a bell for most individuals. We have all been subjected to a situation where we were against an internet troll or a cyberbully just trying to get through a situation, we didn't want to be in, to begin with. It's so hard because the internet is compiled of all sorts of people with different personalities, opinions, and differences in authenticity. When you get a bunch of people together in one place these personalities clash creating difficult situations in your browsing experience and virtual life. In the virtual world industry, this can become a source for these internet trolls and cyberbullies it can also attract unstable individuals because it's their escape from reality. There is nothing wrong with this in the beginning, but it starts to become an issue when drama enters your virtual life when it has no permission meddling into this part of your life. Let's be honest as humans we deal with all different types of drama and problems within our reality why would we want that in our virtual life when we're just trying to relax and do our own thing? Today I'll be discussing the difficulties of internet trolls, cyber-bullying, and drama in virtual worlds with some of my own experiences.

*Note: before you begin this reading, journey this is going to be a lot longer than most of my posts because there is a lot to cover. For this post like some of my others, I'll be bolding main points so you can find the section you want to read the most so you're not searching for the result by skimming the entire post. Another thing as a disclaimer this is a touchy subject and I know a lot of individuals may not agree with some of the things that may be said. This is completely okay were all different and have different thoughts and opinions I just as you to be respectful and understand that these are my opinions if you have any questions, comments, or concerns please contact me through my e-mail which can be found on the left-hand side of the screen next to my photo. Please don't be rude in the comments if you don't have something nice to say don't say it at all. With this being said let's jump right in! *

Second Life Drama:

Because I've experienced most of the drama in this specific virtual world, I wanted to begin with addressing it first and where this can all be found. Second Life is a wonderful virtual world to be a part of I've been a part of it a little longer than I have been with IMVU which is the other virtual world I have invested a lot of time into. There is a lot of room for creativity through the creation of your avatar and different areas of land (called sims). I've met a lot of very genuinely nice people who aren't fake that I've been friends with for years some even for 10+ years. However, with this good, there is always some bad lurking in the corners of everywhere you go. Just like reality, you have people who don't always have your best interest in mind. There are a lot of people who want something out of you so they "fake it to make it" is the best way to explain it. You have your good people, but you also have your fake and unstable individuals as well. I've run into all sorts of different individuals. I highly believe in the traits that come with our astrological signs. Leading off the beaten path for a moment I'm a Taurus and Taurus' are known to want to in a sense "fix people" or mainly see the good in people until they're shown otherwise. The sad fact is we normally must learn the hard way every single time. This does get tiring after a while as a fellow Taurus trust me it's a huge flaw for us. In Second Life it's normally when you bring together a large group of people. I've found that these people tend to be attracted into some of the Second Life RPG HUD game systems such as Bloodlines, the new Bloodline war system (I'll be honest even with research I'm not sure what it's called because I won't dive into things like that), and A&D (Angels and Demons) which I wish wasn't the case. You'll find a lot of drama within family RP's too.

Experience with HUD Gaming RPG Systems:

This is where I've experienced most of my drama within Second Life and I honestly believe even though I sound like a broken record… that it's because with getting a huge group together with various personalities and opinions there is bound to be some drama and disagreements with certain things. With Bloodlines, I remember how one of my clans fell and fell hard the leader quit Second Life shortly after because of all the drama. She felt everyone was attacking her personally with their words and she couldn't take it anymore. This is also proof that words hurt they do you don't have to physically do anything to hurt a person. There were scandals, cheating, greed, and hatred throughout my time in this "family." also, something to note these clans were part of the family role-play life so most clans were like you virtual families. This is just how it was… some aren't like this out there I just have yet to find them in my journeys through these RPG game systems. Drama is hugely found throughout A&D (Angels and Demons) I've seen and been a part of this drama firsthand as much as I regret it were all human and make mistakes. My Second Life mom who I have been her daughter in this virtual world for 11 years threw that all away for a family that got mad at me for talking to the leader of the hordes exs because they were at one point family and I didn't have anything wrong with them. Because of this, I got kicked out of the horde after I was asked who my friends were… lost my Second Life mom of 11 years almost lost my Second Life dad but he left the mom to be with me because I never have lied to anyone inside of these virtual worlds before I've always been honest he knew I was a good person. These are the type of people you'll find in Second Life. A lot of people go through this at some point but in different stages or ways. It sucks but it's the risk your taking when joining one of these groups. A lot of the time they hurt people for their gain because their life isn't happy because of this their narcissistic views cloud their judgment. These people do exist online, and this proves it.

One thing to always remember is there is an “X” in the corner of your window and ways to leave the situation. There are also block and delete buttons, don’t feel like you have to “fix people” your mental health is more important. Do what you have to do to live a positively happy virtual life don't let drama and bull shit enter your life because people aren't happy with theirs. Do yourself a favor because if you don't you will be hurt. Not everyone has the best intentions for you some view individuals as a target. Be careful! But don't forget there are ways to escape a situation that's the best thing about everything being in a window on your computer screen you don't have to put up with things. If you stay that is your decision and you will suffer the consequences of your actions. I know because I've experienced it firsthand many times and learned this all the hard way… Just know you are loved, cared about, and 100% unique and authentic as an individual people get jealous of that. Flaunt it and don't forget to be yourself. This is the best advice you could ever receive to better your virtual life and I hope you take it.

Family Roleplay Drama in Second Life and IMVU:

Both virtual worlds have what is called “family RP" or family roleplaying. This is where there is a mom, dad, siblings and so on… This is a huge area to receive drama so just know this ahead of time if your planning to get into something like this. When the mom and dad break up the family is broken and there is a lot of back and forth as to who did what and each party has their own individualized story that they go off and tell everyone else in the family. Being humans, of course, everyone will take certain sides with who they FAVOR the most or the story that they believe the most. This is where the drama comes in. Another scenario that could bring in the drama is let's say you start dating your virtual mom or dads' best friend and he breaks up with you. Everyone will believe him more than you and will disown you…it sucks but that's what happens… I've had moments where people have left me randomly for things, I never did but because they trusted someone, they knew longer it left me in difficult situations. Different types of drama could happen in family RP but this is the most prominent and should be discussed. People when starting only see the positive but there is that grey shadow that isn't seen until you're truly a part of it. I felt this important to make people aware of the possible drama that could be lurking in the virtual world or worlds that you're a part of.

Internet Trolls and Cyberbullies in Virtual Worlds:

I’ve realized that internet trolls inhabit virtual worlds, they prey on people who they feel will just take their stupidity and emotional harm. They also are just people bored or unhappy with their own lives and seeing people in distress, frustration, and sometimes hurt and panicked they get a kick out of. They gain “power” from this it’s like a power exchange in a way because they’re knocking down the walls of an individual, they feel like they can do anything. This makes them feel better sadly. When this happens just get away from them, they’re not worth it. At the very least there are “report” buttons all over the place to report individuals to moderators. If it’s a post most of the time they remove the post and stop the individual that is posting for a time limit or sometimes if it's bad enough indefinitely. Sometimes moderators block accounts it depends on how bad the situation is at the time. Just know they do this to make themselves feel better and sometimes it's even just out of pure stupidity and boredom. Don't let this knock you down if you're feeling emotionally drained and distressed just exit out of whatever you're doing and go do something else. Again, if you stay that is a decision you have made and "may the odds ever be in your favor."

In conclusion, there are good and bad people all over the world and online. You just have to be careful of who you trust and associate yourself with drama is everywhere, but you can get yourself out of it with just one click of a button. Or by blocking and deleting an individual, there are also report buttons everywhere that report the situation to a moderator for them to take a course of action. Just know you're not alone and you don't have to stand for any drama that comes into your virtual life for any reason. It's uncalled for. However, it is your decision as I've said many times throughout this post if you want to stay and put up with it. But I'd suggest if it comes to that point just log off and leave your computer for the night and do something else. There are so many methods of coping with these situations and I hope this post was helpful for you. This was all simplified, so this post didn't run over a specific word count as I strive to keep posts below 2,100 words at the very most. Don't forget to live your virtual life to the fullest life, in general, is too short we get enough drama in our reality don't put up with it here too.

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mydarlingfilm · 3 years ago

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TIME DOESN’T HEAL

This is going to be a very long post and I would love to read it over and over again. It was painful and timeless at the same time. This conversation is hold between an Rolling stone and Pk.

In her first-ever in-depth interview, Michael Jackson's daughter discusses her father's pain and finding peace after addiction and heartache

Paris-Michael Katherine Jackson is staring at a famous corpse. "That's Marilyn Monroe," she whispers, facing a wall covered with gruesome autopsy photos. "And that's JFK. You can't even find these online." On a Thursday afternoon in late November, Paris is making her way through the Museum of Death, a cramped maze of formaldehyde-scented horrors on Hollywood Boulevard. It's not uncommon for visitors, confronted with decapitation photos, snuff films and serial-killer memorabilia, to faint, vomit or both. But Paris, not far removed from the emo and goth phases of her earlier teens, seems to find it all somehow soothing. This is her ninth visit. "It's awesome," she had said on the way over. "They have a real electric chair and a real head!"

Paris Jackson turned 18 last April, and moment by moment, can come across as much older or much younger, having lived a life that's veered between sheltered and agonizingly exposed. She is a pure child of the 21st century, with her mashed-up hippie-punk fashion sense (today she's wearing a tie-dye button-down, jeggings and Converse high-tops) and boundary-free musical tastes (she's decorated her sneakers with lyrics by Mötley Crüe and Arctic Monkeys; is obsessed with Alice Cooper – she calls him "bae" – and the singer-songwriter Butch Walker; loves Nirvana and Justin Bieber too). But she is, even more so, her father's child. "Basically, as a person, she is who my dad is," says her older brother, Prince Michael Jackson. "The only thing that's different would be her age and her gender." Paris is similar to Michael, he adds, "in all of her strengths, and almost all of her weaknesses as well. She's very passionate. She is very emotional to the point where she can let emotion cloud her judgment."

Paris has, with impressive speed, acquired more than 50 tattoos, sneaking in the first few while underage. Nine of them are devoted to Michael Jackson, who died when she was 11 years old, sending her, Prince and their youngest brother, Blanket, spiraling out of what had been – as they perceived it – a cloistered, near-idyllic little world. "They always say, 'Time heals,'" she says. "But it really doesn't. You just get used to it. I live life with the mentality of 'OK, I lost the only thing that has ever been important to me.' So going forward, anything bad that happens can't be nearly as bad as what happened before. So I can handle it." Michael still visits her in her dreams, she says: "I feel him with me all the time."

Michael, who saw himself as Peter Pan, liked to call his only daughter Tinker Bell. She has FAITH, TRUST AND PIXIE DUST inked near her clavicle. She has an image from the cover of Dangerous on her forearm, the Bad logo on her hand, and the words QUEEN OF MY HEART – in her dad's handwriting, from a letter he wrote her – on her inner left wrist. "He's brought me nothing but joy," she says. "So why not have constant reminders of joy?"

She fixes her huge blue-green eyes on each of the museum's attractions without flinching, until she comes to a section of taxidermied pets. "I don't really like this room," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I draw the line with animals. I can't do it. This breaks my heart." She recently rescued a hyperactive pit-bull-mix puppy, Koa, who has an uneasy coexistence with Kenya, a snuggly Labrador her dad brought home a decade ago.

Paris describes herself as "desensitized" to even the most graphic reminders of human mortality. In June 2013, drowning in depression and a drug addiction, she tried to kill herself at age 15, slashing her wrist and downing 20 Motrin pills. "It was just self-hatred," she says, "low self-esteem, thinking that I couldn't do anything right, not thinking I was worthy of living anymore." She had been self-harming, cutting herself, managing to conceal it from her family. Some of her tattoos now cover the scars, as well as what she says are track marks from drug use. Before that, she had already attempted suicide "multiple times," she says, with an incongruous laugh. "It was just once that it became public." The hospital had a "three-strike rule," she recalls, and, after that last attempt, insisted she attend a residential therapy program.

Home-schooled before her father's death, Paris had agreed to attend a private school starting in seventh grade. She didn't fit in – at all – and started hanging out with the only kids who accepted her, "a lot of older people doing a lot of crazy things," she says. "I was doing a lot of things that 13-, 14-, 15-year-olds shouldn't do. I tried to grow up too fast, and I wasn't really that nice of a person." She also faced cyberbullying, and still struggles with cruel online comments. "The whole freedom-of-speech thing is great," she says. "But I don't think that our Founding Fathers predicted social media when they created all of these amendments and stuff."

There was another trauma that she's never mentioned in public. When she was 14, a much older "complete stranger" sexually assaulted her, she says. "I don't wanna give too many details. But it was not a good experience at all, and it was really hard for me, and, at the time, I didn't tell anybody."

After her last suicide attempt, she spent sophomore year and half of junior year at a therapeutic school in Utah. "It was great for me," she says. "I'm a completely different person." Before, she says with a small smile, "I was crazy. I was actually crazy. I was going through a lot of, like, teen angst. And I was also dealing with my depression and my anxiety without any help." Her father, she says, also struggled with depression, and she was prescribed the same antidepressants he once took, though she's no longer on any psych meds.

Now sober and happier than she's ever been, with menthol cigarettes her main remaining vice, Paris moved out of her grandma Katherine's house shortly after her 18th birthday, heading to the old Jackson family estate. She spends nearly every minute of each day with her boyfriend, Michael Snoddy, a 26-year-old drummer – he plays with the percussion ensemble Street Drum Corps – and Virginia native whose dyed mohawk, tattoos and perpetually sagging pants don't obscure boy-band looks and a puppy-dog sweetness. "I never met anyone before who made me feel the way music makes me feel," says Paris. When they met, he had an ill-considered, now-covered Confederate flag tattoo that raised understandable doubts among the Jacksons. "But the more I actually got to know him," says Prince, "he's a really cool guy."

Paris took a quick stab at community college after graduating high school – a year early – in 2015, but wasn't feeling it. She is an heir to a mammoth fortune – the Michael Jackson Family Trust is likely worth more than $1 billion, with disbursements to the kids in stages. But she wants to earn her own money, and now that she's a legal adult, to embrace her other inheritance: celebrity.

And in the end, as the charismatic, beautiful daughter of one of the most famous men who ever lived, what choice did she have? She is, for now, a model, an actress, a work in progress. She can, when she feels like it, exhibit a regal poise that's almost intimidating, while remaining chill enough to become pals with her giant-goateed tattoo artist. She has impeccable manners – you might guess that she was raised well. She so charmed producer-director Lee Daniels in a recent meeting that he's begun talking to her manager about a role for her on his Fox show, Star . She plays a few instruments, writes and sings songs (she performs a couple for me on acoustic guitar, and they show promise, though they're more Laura Marling than MJ), but isn't sure if she'll ever pursue a recording contract.

Modeling, in particular, comes naturally, and she finds it therapeutic. "I've had self-esteem issues for a really, really long time," says Paris, who understands her dad's plastic-surgery choices after watching online trolls dissect her appearance since she was 12. "Plenty of people think I'm ugly, and plenty of people don't. But there's a moment when I'm modeling where I forget about my self-esteem issues and focus on what the photographer's telling me – and I feel pretty. And in that sense, it's selfish."

But mostly, she shares her father's heal-the-world impulses ("I'm really scared for the Great Barrier Reef," she says. "It's, like, dying. This whole planet is. Poor Earth, man"), and sees fame as a means to draw attention to favored causes. "I was born with this platform," she says. "Am I gonna waste it and hide away? Or am I going to make it bigger and use it for more important things?"

Her dad wouldn't have minded. "If you wanna be bigger than me, you can," he'd tell her. "If you don't want to be at all, you can. But I just want you to be happy."

At the moment, Paris lives in the private studio where her dad demoed "Beat It." The Tudor-style main house in the now-empty Jackson family compound in the LA neighborhood of Encino – purchased by Joe Jackson in 1971 with some of the Jackson 5's first Motown royalties, and rebuilt by Michael in the Eighties – is under renovation. But the studio, built by Michael in a brick building across the courtyard, happens to be roughly the size of a decent Manhattan apartment, with its own kitchen and bathroom. Paris has turned it into a vibe-y, cozy dorm room.

Traces of her father are everywhere, most unmistakably in the artwork he commissioned. Outside the studio is a framed picture, done in a Disney-like style, of a cartoon castle on a hilltop with a caricatured Michael in the foreground, a small blond boy embracing him.It's captioned "Of Children, Castles & Kings." Inside is a mural taking up an entire wall, with another cartoon Michael in the corner, holding a green book titled The Secret of Life and looking down from a window at blooming flowers – at the center of each bloom is a cartoon face of a red-cheeked little girl.

Above an adjacent garage is a mini-museum Michael created as a surprise gift for his family, with the walls and even ceilings covered with photos from their history. Michael used to rehearse dance moves in that room; now Paris' boyfriend has his drum kit set up there.

We head out to a nearby sushi restaurant, and Paris starts to describe life in Neverland. She spent her first seven years in her dad's 2,700-acre fantasy world, with its own amusement park, zoo and movie theater. ("Everything I never got to do as a kid," Michael called it.) During that time, she didn't know that her father's name was Michael, let alone have any grasp of his fame. "I just thought his name was Dad, Daddy," she says. "We didn't really know who he was. But he was our world. And we were his world." (Paris declared last year's Captain Fantastic , where Viggo Mortensen plays an eccentric dad who tries to create a utopian hideaway for his kids, her "favorite movie ever.")

We couldn't just go on the rides whenever we wanted to," she recalls, walking on a dark roadside near the Encino compound. She likes to stride along the lane divider, too close to the cars – it drives her boyfriend crazy, and I don't much like it either. "We actually had a pretty normal life. Like, we had school every single day, and we had to be good. And if we were good, every other weekend or so, we could choose whether we were gonna go to the movie theater or see the animals or whatever. But if you were on bad behavior, then you wouldn't get to go do all those things."

In his 2011 memoir, Michael's brother Jermaine called him "an example of what fatherhood should be. He instilled in them the love Mother gave us, and he provided the kind of emotional fathering that our father, through no fault of his own, could not. Michael was father and mother rolled into one."

Michael gave the kids the option of going to regular school. They declined. "When you're at home," says Paris, "your dad, who you love more than anything, will occasionally come in, in the middle of class, and it's like, 'Cool, no more class for the day. We're gonna go hang out with Dad.' We were like, 'We don't need friends. We've got you and Disney Channel!'" She was, she acknowledges, "a really weird kid."

Her dad taught her how to cook, soul food, mostly. "He was a kick-ass cook," she says. "His fried chicken is the best in the world. He taught me how to make sweet potato pie." Paris is baking four pies, plus gumbo, for grandma Katherine's Thanksgiving – which actually takes place the day before the holiday, in deference to Katherine's Jehovah's Witness beliefs.

Michael schooled Paris on every conceivable genre of music. "My dad worked with Van Halen, so I got into Van Halen," she says."He worked with Slash, so I got into Guns N' Roses. He introduced me to Tchaikovsky and Debussy, Earth, Wind and Fire, the Temptations, Tupac, Run-DMC."

"His number-one focus for us," says Paris, "besides loving us, was education. And he wasn't like, 'Oh, yeah, mighty Columbus came to this land!' He was like, 'No. He fucking slaughtered the natives.'" Would he really phrase it that way? "He did have kind of a potty mouth. He cussed like a sailor." But he was also "very shy."

Paris and Prince are quite aware of public doubts about their parentage (the youngest brother, Blanket, with his darker skin, is the subject of less speculation). Paris' mom is Debbie Rowe, a nurse Michael met while she was working for his dermatologist, the late Arnold Klein. They had what sounds like an unconventional three-year marriage, during which, Rowe once testified, they never shared a home. Michael said that Rowe wanted to have his children "as a present" to him. (Rowe said that Paris got her name from the location of her conception.) Klein, her employer, was one of several men – including the actor Mark Lester, who played the title role in the 1968 movie Oliver! – who suggested that they could be Paris' actual biological father.

Over popcorn shrimp and a Clean Mean Salmon Roll, Paris agrees to address this issue for what she says will be the only time. She could opt for an easy, logical answer, could point out that it doesn't matter, that either way, Michael Jackson was her father. That's what her brother – who describes himself as "more objective" than Paris – seems to suggest. "Every time someone asks me that," Prince says, "I ask, 'What's the point? What difference does it make?' Specifically to someone who's not involved in my life. How does that affect your life? It doesn't change mine."

But Paris is certain that Michael Jackson was her biological dad. She believes it with a fervency that is both touching and, in the moment, utterly convincing. "He is my father," she says, making fierce eye contact. "He will always be my father. He never wasn't, and he never will not be. People that knew him really well say they see him in me, that it's almost scary.

"I consider myself black," she says, adding later that her dad "would look me in the eyes and he'd point his finger at me and he'd be like, 'You're black. Be proud of your roots.' And I'd be like, 'OK, he's my dad, why would he lie to me?' So I just believe what he told me. 'Cause, to my knowledge, he's never lied to me.

"Most people that don't know me call me white," Paris concedes. "I've got light skin and, especially since I've had my hair blond, I look like I was born in Finland or something." She points out that it's far from unheard of for mixed-race kids to look like her – accurately noting that her complexion and eye color are similar to the TV actor Wentworth Miller's, who has a black dad and a white mom.

At first, she had no relationship with Rowe. "When I was really, really young, my mom didn't exist," Paris recalls. Eventually, she realized "a man can't birth a child" – and when she was 10 or so, she asked Prince, "We gotta have a mom, right?" So she asked her dad. "And he's like, 'Yeah.' And I was like, 'What's her name?' And he's just like, 'Debbie.' And I was like, 'OK, well, I know the name.'" After her father's death, she started researching her mom online, and they got together when Paris was 13.

In the wake of her treatment in Utah, Paris decided to reach out again to Rowe. "She needed a mother figure," says Prince, who declines to comment on his own relationship, or lack thereof, with Rowe. (Paris' manager declined to make Rowe available for an interview, and Rowe did not respond to our request for comment.) "I've had a lot of mother figures," Paris counters, citing her grandmother and nannies, among others, "but by the time my mom came into my life, it wasn't a 'mommy' thing. It's more of an adult relationship." Paris sees herself in Rowe, who just completed a course of chemo in a fight against breast cancer: "We're both very stubborn."

Paris Jackson was around nine years old when she realized that much of the world didn't see her father the way she did. "My dad would cry to me at night," she says, sitting at the counter of a New York coffee shop in mid-December, cradling a tiny spoon in her hand. She starts to cry too. "Picture your parent crying to you about the world hating him for something he didn't do. And for me, he was the only thing that mattered. To see my entire world in pain, I started to hate the world because of what they were doing to him. I'm like, 'How can people be so mean?'" She pauses. "Sorry, I'm getting emotional."

Paris and Prince have no doubts that their father was innocent of the multiple child-molestation allegations against him, that the man they knew was the real Michael. Again, they are persuasive – if they could go door-to-door talking about it, they could sway the world."Nobody but my brothers and I experienced him reading A Light in the Attic to us at night before we went to bed," says Paris."Nobody experienced him being a father to them. And if they did, the entire perception of him would be completely and forever changed." I gently suggest that what Michael said to her on those nights was a lot to put on a nine-year-old. "He did not bullshit us," she replies. "You try to give kids the best childhood possible. But you also have to prepare them for the shitty world."

Michael's 2005 molestation trial ended in an acquittal, but it shattered his reputation and altered the course of his family's lives. He decided to leave Neverland for good. They spent the next four years traveling the world, spending long stretches of time in the Irish countryside, in Bahrain, in Las Vegas. Paris didn't mind – it was exciting, and home was where her dad was.

By 2009, Michael was preparing for an ambitious slate of comeback performances at London's O2 Arena. "He kind of hyped it up to us," recalls Paris. "He was like, 'Yeah, we're gonna live in London for a year.' We were super-excited – we already had a house out there we were gonna live in." But Paris remembers his "exhaustion" as rehearsals began. "I'd tell him, 'Let's take a nap,'" she says."Because he looked tired. We'd be in school, meaning downstairs in the living room, and we'd see dust falling from the ceiling and hear stomping sounds because he was rehearsing upstairs."

Paris has a lingering distaste for AEG Live, the promoters behind the planned This Is It tour – her family lost a wrongful-death suit against them, with the jury accepting AEG's argument that Michael was responsible for his own death. "AEG Live does not treat their performers right," she alleges. "They drain them dry and work them to death." (A rep for AEG declined comment.) She describes seeing Justin Bieber on a recent tour and being "scared" for him. "He was tired, going through the motions. I looked at my ticket, saw AEG Live, and I thought back to how my dad was exhausted all the time but couldn't sleep."

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nuvya · 7 years ago

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Michael Jackson: The Human Being Behind The Superstar By Paris Jackson

Paris Jackson: Life After Neverland (Rolling Stone Interview )

In her first-ever in-depth interview, Michael Jackson's daughter discusses her father's pain and finding peace after addiction and heartache

She also has tattoos honoring John Lennon, David Bowie and her dad's sometime rival Prince – plus Van Halen and, on her inner lip, the word MÖTLEY (her boyfriend has CRÜE in the same spot). On her right wrist is a rope-and-jade bracelet that Michael bought in Africa. He was wearing it when he died, and Paris' nanny retrieved it for her. "It still smells like him," Paris says.

Her dad wouldn't have minded. "If you wanna be bigger than me, you can," he'd tell her. "If you don't want to be at all, you can. But I just want you to be happy."

Paris' chosen decor is somewhat different. There is a picture of Kurt Cobain in the bathroom, a Smashing Pumpkins poster on the wall, a laptop with Against Me! and NeverEnding Story stickers, psychedelic paisley wall hangings, lots of fake candles. Vinyl records (Alice Cooper, the Rolling Stones) serve as wall decorations. In the kitchen, sitting casually on a counter, is a framed platinum record, inscribed to Michael by Quincy Jones ("I found it in the attic," Paris shrugs).

"We couldn't just go on the rides whenever we wanted to," she recalls, walking on a dark roadside near the Encino compound. She likes to stride along the lane divider, too close to the cars – it drives her boyfriend crazy, and I don't much like it either. "We actually had a pretty normal life. Like, we had school every single day, and we had to be good. And if we were good, every other weekend or so, we could choose whether we were gonna go to the movie theater or see the animals or whatever. But if you were on bad behavior, then you wouldn't get to go do all those things."

She says Michael emphasized tolerance. "My dad raised me in a very open-minded house," she says. "I was eight years old, in love with this female on the cover of a magazine. Instead of yelling at me, like most homophobic parents, he was making fun of me, like, 'Oh, you got yourself a girlfriend.'

Paris isn't sure how Michael felt about Rowe, but says Rowe was "in love" with her dad. She's also sure that Michael loved Lisa Marie Presley, whom he divorced two years before Paris' birth: "In the music video 'You Are Not Alone,' I can see how he looked at her, and he was totally whipped," she says with a fond laugh.

Paris blames Dr. Conrad Murray – who was convicted of involuntary manslaughter in her father's death – for the dependency on the anesthetic drug propofol that led to it. She calls him "the 'doctor,'" with satirical air quotes. But she has darker suspicions about her father's death. "He would drop hints about people being out to get him," she says. "And at some point he was like, 'They're gonna kill me one day.'" (Lisa Marie Presley told Oprah Winfrey of a similar conversation with Michael, who expressed fears that unnamed parties were targeting him to get at his half of the Sony/ATV music-publishing catalog, worth hundreds of millions.)

Paris is convinced that her dad was, somehow, murdered. "Absolutely," she says. "Because it's obvious. All arrows point to that. It sounds like a total conspiracy theory and it sounds like bullshit, but all real fans and everybody in the family knows it. It was a setup. It was bullshit."

But who would have wanted Michael Jackson dead? Paris pauses for several seconds, maybe considering a specific answer, but just says, "A lot of people." Paris wants revenge, or at least justice. "Of course," she says, eyes glowing. "I definitely do, but it's a chess game. And I am trying to play the chess game the right way. And that's all I can say about that right now."

Michael had his kids wear masks in public, a protective move Paris considered "stupid" but later came to understand. So it made all the more of an impression when a brave little girl spontaneously stepped to the microphone at her dad's televised memorial service, on July 7th, 2009. "Ever since I was born," she said, "Daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine, and I just wanted to say I love him so much."

She was 11 years old, but she knew what she was doing. "I knew afterward there was gonna be plenty of shit-talking," Paris says, "plenty of people questioning him and how he raised us. That was the first time I ever publicly defended him, and it definitely won't be the last." For Prince, his younger sister showed in that moment that she had "more strength than any of us."

The day after her trip to the Museum of Death, Paris, Michael Snoddy and Tom Hamilton, her model-handsome, man-bunned 31-year-old manager, head over to Venice Beach. We stroll the boardwalk, and Snoddy recalls a brief stint as a street performer here when he first moved to LA, drumming on buckets. "It wasn't bad," he says. "I averaged out to a hundred bucks a day."

Paris has her hair extensions in a ponytail. She's wearing sunglasses with circular lenses, a green plaid shirt over leggings, and a Rasta-rainbow backpack. Her mood is darker today. She's not talking much, and clinging tight to Snoddy, who's in a Willie Nelson tee with the sleeves cut off.

We head toward the canals, lined with ultramodern houses that Paris doesn't like. "They're too harsh and bougie," she says. "It doesn't scream, 'Hey, come for dinner!'" She's delighted to spot a group of ducks. "Hello, friends!" she shouts. "Come play with us!"Among them are what appear to be an avian couple in love, paddling through the shallow water in close formation. Paris sighs and squeezes Snoddy's hand. "Goals," she says. "Hashtag 'goals.'"

Her spirits are lifting, and we walk back toward the beach to watch the sunset. Paris and Snoddy hop on a concrete barrier facing the orange-pink spectacle. It's a peaceful moment, until a middle-aged woman in neon jogging clothes and knee-length socks walks over.She grins at the couple as she presses a button on some kind of tiny stereo strapped to her waist, unleashing a dated-sounding trance song. Paris laughs and turns to her boyfriend. As the sun disappears, they start to dance.

From being a kick-ass cook to a strict dad, here are the 5 things we learned about the King of Pop from Paris Jackson.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B0kjc3VEwFM

#paris jackson #michael jackson #rolling stone magazine #childhood #prince jackson #the jacksons #blanket jackson #captain fantastic #jackson 5 #moonwalker #fatherhood

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thestraydwanderer · 7 years ago

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Come on... You’re Angry Because Valerie Didn’t End Up With Danny, Right?

I find it hard to believe that so many people in the Danny Phantom have so much hatred over one character Sam Manson. And yet all that praise goes to Valerie Grey and how much more cooler she is than Sam. I’m embarrassed that people who are fans of Sam are apologists of said character. Instead of having an opinion or a backbone a lot of people agree to avoid a heated argument or fight. It’s Baloney!! I clearly didn’t like Valerie Grey’s character all that much and still don’t to this very day. Probably that’s because I found the character very distasteful. Not only was the character’s uncontrollable anger and hypocrisy unpleasing but I found her pushy attitude problem and high opinions of herself very dissatisfying. A lot of Valerie fans come forth and spill their hatred and angry into posts, art, and writing. What a complete waste of talent that you’re so angry that your “ship” didn’t sail off into a happily ever after.

Being a veteran of the show when it first came out, I was a wallflower and stayed out of all the posts and fights of One True Pairings and what is canon and what is fanon.

Here are my 5 top reasons why Danny and Valerie wouldn’t have a Happy Ever. Why I personally strongly dislike Valerie. And Finally why I think she’s the worse character to grace cartoon history.

1. Valerie’s ANGER

The girl cannot let a grudge go. This girl was crazy filled with red rage. Anger and hurt clouded her judgment maybe rightfully so, but to have it carry out over a couple years on something as soooo petty as losing your high school status and a nice home and her dad’s cushy job. It’s just plain stupid. No one she knew died. Her family wasn’t homeless. It was all a matter of her pride and ego being wounded. Again when Danny had her identity revealed to her dad, it was a pride and ego thing. In the words of Elsa from Frozen “Let It Go”. (If Danny and Valerie ever did for any bizarre reason got together they’d fall part from the lies and distrust they have in one another. Valerie wouldn’t be able to let it go. Why? Again because she can’t let go of grudges and being angry.)

2. Egocentric

Valerie thinks very highly of herself. She states in D-Stabilized that she’s a better ghost hunter than the Fenton’s. And yet we see throughout the three seasons, the Fenton’s remarkable technological advances and are pioneering the field of ghost study and ghost hunting. We see Maddie Fenton and Jack Fenton kick some ghost butt in their defining episodes such as “Maternal Insticts” and “Million Dollar Ghost” respectively. Definitely not some crackpot scientists studying ghosts. We also see in “Shades of Gray” Valerie calls Danny and his friends losers after approaching her when she supposedly loses it all she has and wants to help her in her time of need. And later on in “Reign Storm” after “Life Lessons” and Danny and her have a better understanding of one another she still a complete dickhead to Danny’s friends. “What’s there problem?” she asks Danny in the hallway with Tucker and Sam. The problem was you girl. You were a complete and total jackass of a person and you’re blaming Sam and Tucker are the ones with issues with you? It maybe a stretch but whose to say, but off screen Valerie was just as bad if not worse as the A-Listers being a bully and being NASTY to Danny and his friends? That’s all suppose to be cleared and done with because Danny and Valerie are somewhat better acquaintances now? And no apologies? Nuh Uh! Forget that Nastiness!

3. Her Weird Dislike for Sam

I don’t understand this one? Is she jealous that Danny and Sam have a special bond? Is she jealous that she knows that secretly Danny likes her but is too worried or embarrassed to act on it? I find it humorous that everyone talks a big game and puts Sam down and saying she doesn’t have character development. But in Flirting With Disaster Sam demonstrated far more maturity in her pinky than Valerie did in the entire show. Sam put her differences aside and her distrust with Valerie so that both VALERIE and DANNY could happily date. I CAN NOT say Valerie Gray would do this. I couldn’t. Because we know Valerie only really cares about herself. Which brings me to my fourth point...

4. Giving Up On Love

She gave up being with Danny to hunt down his alter ego Danny Phantom. Why? Because her revenge was more important than to give up ghost hunting and be with Danny. And to all the naysayers but she said, “she WAS going to give up her ghost hunting”. BUT SHE DIDN’T. Saying and doing are TWO completely different things. Like for instance with our government right now they say their going to change the age limit from 18 to 21 to purchase a gun. But this week we saw that our government has failed to do so. They said they were, but they didn’t. Just like Valerie said she was going to give up ghost hunting to be with Danny she did not. She wasn’t doing any good to protect Danny from herself or the ghosts, because Danny never needed it. Valerie doesn’t know that, but Danny and the audience does. Which makes the whole “I love you but I hate you,but I love you” triade thing so dumb. So so sooo dumb. It makes it really BORING! The Hate you/ I Love you thing has been so over done and beaten to death.

5. Her Fans

I don’t have to go too deep into this one. Take a look it’s all over any artistic platform an artist or writer posts stories about Danny Phantom. Abuse writing material and art. Good examples are drawing Danny and Valerie together and making Sam cry about it or get jealous. It’s so tacky. I think they purposely do it to piss people off too. Look up Danny and Sam art and you’ll find DxV in it. Look up DxV art and you won’t find any DxS art? I find it all just trashy and NASTY! Just when I think a Valerie Fan or a Danny and Valerie couple fan couldn’t top off their hatred and stupidity, I am proven wrong. It’s okay to like Valerie or “DxV”. No one’s stopping you or silencing you on it. But I do find it hypocritical just like the character herself to flame and bash and ridicule people who happen to like Danny and/or Sam. It’s silly. You don’t see the crazy things like this from Sam fans. Well, at least not anymore. And I blame that on younger people back in the hay day. But what makes it terribly sad is that these fans are grown women belittling and patronizing other fans on their opinions and different opinions. O

#Please Stop Making Valerie Gray the Zuko of Danny Phantom She's Not #Valerie Gray #Angry DxV/Valerie Fans #Just admit you hate Phantom Planet because Danny and Valerie didn't get together At least be honest with yourself #I love canon #Fanon Ruined Valerie Gray's character #I'm under the impression fans knew she was a bad character but gave her redeeming qualities to make her more likeable #example saying her mom died of cancer #when in canon you don't know anything about that

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seigephoenix · 7 years ago

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Gifts

A prompt for gifts was given. I thought about what Cerise could give Evfra that would be meaningful. This popped into my head. This takes in between Chapters 19-21 of The Serpent.

This was an incredibly stupid idea in hindsight. Cerise scrubbed her face with her hand, wishing exhaustion could be wiped away so easily. She was by herself in one of the many abandoned science outposts on Havarl trying to calm down an angaran woman bent on her destruction. Well, if the threats coming through the door were anything to go by. “You’ve already said you wanted to put a bullet in me. Twice!” Cerise yelled through the door. The woman was exceedingly stubborn, but Cerise had yet to meet someone more stubborn than she was. She looked up as the outside door slid open and her turian lieutenant strolled through with food and drinks. Trixa brought in some coffee and questioned if they were doing the right thing.

“Probably not. I think the angara have some law against kidnapping. I didn’t pay attention to the over 500 page data pad on their laws.” Cerise told her as she wrapped her hands around the coffee mug. “For him I have to try.” Trixa sat next to the human and heard some of the curses coming from the other room. Trixa winced at a particularly vile one. “You’ve used that one already!” Laughter resonated in the room at Cerise’s sarcasm.

“How long has she been at it?”

“12 hours and counting.” Trixa winced as she knew Cerise had stayed there the entire time. Asking her to take a rest or a break would do no good, her boss would never do either until she achieved her goal. Trixa knew why this was so personal, but she didn’t understand Cerise’s reasoning for doing it herself. The Moshae had sent them an email explaining about the current captive being on Kadara. Cerise had kept the details of that email closely guarded, but Trixa had to assume it had to do with Evfra. Her boss had it bad if she was willing to go this far for the man.

“Don’t let her get the jump on you, boss.” Trixa patted Cerise’s shoulder and went over to stretch out against the wall. Cerise had chosen Trixa to come with her because the turian had the patience of a saint, she had to with as much as she put up with Lister. The noises in the other room subsided after another hour. Both women were suspicious about the sudden quiet and Cerise crept up to the door to get a look inside. Trixa stood off to the side, out of view, in the event their guest tried to escape. Her pistol was trained on the exit of that room, in the event the prisoner tried to push through Cerise.

“Are you ready to talk?” Cerise asked as she leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. The angaran woman sat by the bed, chest heaving, and Cerise could see the room was in shambles. Her blue eyes shot fire at Cerise and the crackle of bioelectricity had the hairs on her arms up on end. There were no windows to escape from and the air vents were far too small for her to fit through. She turned her head and stared at the woman who sat with her entire body tense for a fight. Cerise blew out an exasperated breath and straightened. “Look. You don’t like me or my entire species. Guess what? You’re not my favorite person either.” Cerise pointed to the bruise darkening the side of her face. That had been a sucker punch that she hadn’t been prepared for. It still pissed her off that the angaran had gotten under her guard like that. The smirk on the angaran woman’s face didn’t have the desired effect. “Oh please. An adhi hits harder than you did.” The derision was not lost on the woman and she lunged for Cerise, but anger made her predictable. Cerise easily side stepped the lunge, making sure to trip her.

“I spent a lot of resources tracking you down.” Cerise told the woman as she sprawled on the floor. Cerise placed one boot in the middle of her back to prevent her from getting up. She struggled but found that the human had more strength that she had guessed. That boot wasn’t letting her go anywhere. “And see, I heard about what you did. It got me thinking about things.” Cerise explained as the woman struggled under her boot. “What makes a mother shoot her own son? Huh Joevett?” The body stilled beneath her as the head turned. She still saw anger there but there was something else, regret? Anguish? Regret and anguish she could work with, that meant something was still there beneath the brainwashing. “Is it really worth it? You had family left from the kett.” Cerise murmured and saw Joevett fight more, a desperate edge to it now. Cerise knew her words had hit their desired target.

“You know nothing of our struggles! What we’ve faced! Your kind are just like them!” Joevett snarled. Cerise narrowed her eyes as her lip curled in a snarl. She was getting sick of that same old rhetoric.

“Oh really? Your kind is just as diverse as my kind. There are the good ones and there are the bad ones. I have lived in your galaxy for over a year. I’ve seen the struggles, dealt with the kett, and I saw the devastation it can leave.” Cerise spoke firmly but quietly. Anger would do nothing to help the situation.

“Your species is nothing but murderers!” Joevett screeched.

“And your kind shoot and kill the very people they swore they were protecting.” The words reverberated throughout the room and Cerise let them sink in. Joevett went still beneath her. Cerise shook her head and eased her foot off her back. Trixa was still on standby to make sure Joevett wouldn’t escape. They both hoped it wouldn’t come to it, but better to be prepared in case.

“Why did you take me if you weren’t going to kill me?” Joevett asked as she got to her knees. The human’s actions confused her. She’d been taught the humans and other Milky Way species were just like the kett. She still hung on to the familiar and suspicion about the mercenary’s motives clouded her judgment. Cerise’s lips twisted into a regretful smile.

“Well, you may wish I’d kill you when I get done with you. But I’m only doing this for one person.” Cerise told her. Joevett tilted her head in confusion. “I’ll tell you later. Once you can be trusted.” She crossed her arms and tilted her head to crack her neck. “Now for the hard part.” This part neither woman would like very much, even as Joevett took another swing at the human. This time Cerise didn’t hesitate to fight back. Joevett may be older than her and have experience fighting the kett, but Cerise was trained by martial arts masters and her N7 Dad. She fought hard and she fought dirty.

It took a week to break through that she wasn’t going to give up so easily. Trixa had been replaced by Lister and Jusca in that order while Cerise stayed with Joevett. The brainwashing the Roekaar used was exceedingly tough to break through. Though Joevett had relented when she couldn’t beat the human every time. There were times that Cerise came out the victor and others were Joevett overcame her. Respect for the human had grudgingly entered into Jovett’s mind and she began to speak to Cerise for longer periods before the fighting would begin again. Every time they made a step forward, the old defenses would be thrown up. Cerise swore she was beating her head against a brick wall at times, and even debated if the brick wall would give before Joevett would. Cerise noticed their bouts became less about escaping and more about testing each other’s limits. There wasn’t a hard edge to the fights anymore.

“Why are you doing this?” Joevett asked as the two women faced each other from opposite sides of the room. Her chest was heaving from trying to get the human grappled, but being repelled at every turn. Cerise prided herself on being a slippery target for a grapple, and she wondered why Joevett had never gone for the hair. The mercenary suspected it had to do with the angara not knowing about hair, so she wouldn’t know it was a viable target.

“You want the truth? All right. You’ll get it.” Cerise spat out. “I’m certainly not doing this because I benefit from it.” Joevett snorted at the sarcasm. “I’m doing this for Evfra.” Joevett paused at the name and turned to face the human. Surely, she could not have heard her right. The human was doing this for her son? “He has been through enough and he needs family. Jury’s still out on if you’ll make a suitable candidate.” Cerise did her best to keep her tone neutral but it was hard, so hard. Given everything that had happened between them, it was just too difficult to keep a neutral tone. Thinking about that email from him still filled her with pain and the shadows whispered in her ear. “You are the only family he has left in this godforsaken galaxy.” Joevett felt the tears well up in her eyes but the familiar hatred spoken by Akksul and the Roekaar fought for dominance. Yet she saw a reflection of the same pain in Cerise’s eyes, and the anger was muted. A human was feeling such pain for an angara. The Roekaar believed it was impossible, yet she saw it clearly in front of her. Her head began to ache as she could see that there was a way to stay together and let it work.

“Is it truly a better life to shoot the only family you have left? You should be treasuring that he survived! Instead you shot him.” Cerise felt some anger rise in her and she swallowed it. Joevett fell to her knees as the raw memories of that time came back to her. The day her family was taken by the kett. The anguished wail echoed off the walls of the tiny room and Cerise felt the pain as if it were her own. “You should treasure him.” As I can’t. Cerise told her as she knelt in front of the woman. Joevett looked up at her through the tears and she looked so lost. Compassion filled grey eyes as she kept a hand on Joevett’s shoulder. This kind of grief could not be faked, it was too raw to be contrived.

“How?” The angaran shook her head. “He’d never forgive me for shooting him.” Cerise took a deep breath.

“Then you know him so little. Family means too much to him. I don’t think he’d turn you away as long as you had left the Roekaar behind for good.” The soft-spoken words broke through the haze of her grief. Joevett felt hope rise in her chest for the first time since the capture of her family.

“Do you know him so well then?” He saw the human flush red and her mouth hung open in shock as she pieced it together. “The two of you are together?” Anger and the old hatred threatened to rise again. A human and an angara together? It was unthinkable and she opened her mouth to speak of it when she saw the stricken look on Cerise’s face. Her rage was quieted as the younger woman spoke, with a voice shaking in pain.

“No. Not anymore. There was once something there, but… I could never ask him to choose between me and his people.” Cerise told her quietly. Joevett heard the pain through the grief in her own mind. “It’s better this way. I just want to make sure he doesn’t lose himself again.” Cerise gave her a cautious, watery smile and shook her head. “He needs you and I am going to bring you back. Even if I have to do it with you kicking and screaming.” Cerise told her. Joevett shook her head and sat on the bed. This human was a stubborn one, and she hoped she knew what she was doing.

“I have much to think about. Please give me some time.” Cerise nodded and straightened. She headed to the door and it shut quietly behind her. Lister was lounging in the chair staring at his omni-tool when Cerise collapsed face first onto the cot.

“I just want to go to sleep for three days.” He chuckled and joked about vacation days already being used up. She grunted in response after giving him the one finger salute and Lister let her sleep. He woke her after three hours. Joevett came to the door after six and quietly asked for Cerise to come in.

“Human.” Joevett paused and took a deep, steadying breath. “Cerise. I’m willing to try. I’ve thought about what you said and I want to earn his forgiveness. Family is far too precious to waste it. I just hope you are right that he will forgive me.” Joevett told her. Cerise nodded and so the real process began.

“Okay. So, the Moshae has been rescued from a kett facility. My brother is tracking down ways to make the galaxy more livable and take down the Archon.” Cerise explained. “So, when you see a human or another Milky Way species, what do you do?” Joevett swallowed down her initial response, the one drilled into her head for years by the Roekaar. Instead she remembered what Cerise had told her, the one rule she lived by. The one being embraced by many of the angara on Aya, Voeld, and Havarl.

“Unless they are armed and have intent, I will take no aggressive action.” Joevett told her slowly, despite the bile rising in her. She was trying. Trying to overcome the hatred for the Milky Way species. Cerise had told her to hate the kett as much as she wanted, the mercenary had no love of them herself. The two had an uneasy alliance but Joevett conceded that Cerise was as tough as any angaran warrior. Even if she was a good foot shorter than most of them.

“It’s just too difficult to grasp. The Milky Way species are wanting peace?” Joevett murmured as she stared at Cerise.

“Most of us. There are the usual scavs and pirates. No more so than your own species I’d wager.” Cerise told her and Joevett shook her head. Not in denial, but at how matter of fact the human sounded. “I prefer not to judge an entire species on one or two bad apples.” Joevett couldn’t quite grasp the translation but the gist of it was understood. This human did not make blanket judgments about a race based solely on bad experiences.

“Yes. I see your point.” Joevett admitted reluctantly. The amount of time she’d spent with the human had been extraordinary. Almost a month had passed since the woman had taken her from the Roekaar cell. Joevett had to admit it was cleverly done since there had been no loss of life in the process. The human had spent a long time just talking to Joevett. The old hatred had lessened, but she knew she’d have to grieve properly now. The hatred had been a bandage to cover up the gaping wound left by the abduction of her family. Cerise would force her to face that wound, but it would heal from within finally. The orange lit tech beeped at the human and she brought it up to her face to read whatever was on there.

“Do you think you can manage a guest?” Cerise asked quietly. Joevett looked at her with confusion in her eyes but nodded. Cerise stood and opened the door. The Moshae stood there with her hands clasped in front of her, quietly studying Joevett’s face. The woman was serene and composed as she stood against the wildness that was Havarl.

“Moshae Sjefa.” Joevett breathed as she stood. She was in awe to be standing so close to one of the most revered angara in the system.

“Please. Sit. Ryder here has told me what she has been trying to do. I asked if I could meet with you first.” The Moshae nodded to Cerise who stood just outside the door, letting it shut on the two women to give them privacy. “I did not believe she was capable of such kindness. Her reputation precedes her you see.” Amusement threaded the Moshae’s tone as she quietly explained that Cerise was considered a formidable mercenary in Andromeda. Joevett scoffed at the idea but the Moshae assured her it was true. The human was formidable in sparring but to lead a mercenary company in Andromeda? That was unthinkable. “I was skeptical she could do something so selfless, but it seems I was proven wrong. She did this for him, and I want to make sure it isn’t a mistake. To come back to Aya you must publicly forsake the Roekaar. To give up everything they stand for and to embrace the peace we are trying to foster between our species and theirs.” Joevett nodded in understanding, she had assumed as much. “It will be a long and hard road to forgiveness. Are you certain you wish to continue?” This was the part that made Joevett nervous.

“I will as long as he is willing to try.” The Moshae nodded in understanding and spoke quietly. They both shared the pain of the kett taking their species from them. Joevett found solace in the Moshae’s words, especially when she told Joevett that to earn forgiveness from others, she must first forgive herself.

“I don’t think I can. I shot him.” Joevett murmured as the tears started anew. The Moshae nodded and reached out to her.

“I know. His hatred for the Roekaar burns bright because they took you and turned you against your own people. The cause began noble but it was twisted and corrupted. Just as people can be corrupted. Will you come to Aya and try?” Moshae Sjefa grasped Joevett’s hand in hers, letting patience rule. Joevett nodded slowly.

“I am willing to give it a try.” Joevett told her. The Moshae nodded and stood, urging Joevett to stand with her. The door opened and they saw Cerise standing there with Trixa behind her.

“We are going to Aya.” The grey eyes crinkled as a smile broke on her face. Joevett was surprised to see the Moshae being respectful towards the human.

“I wish you the best Moshae Sjefa.” Cerise straightened from her position and reached out her hand. Cerise turned to Joevett with the same kind look in her eyes. “And I wish you the best of luck in earning Evfra’s forgiveness.”

“You’re not going to Aya as well?” The quick flash of pain across Cerise’s face was quickly covered. The young woman shook her head as regret filled her. Joevett felt pain for inflicting that on the human.

“No. I’m not. I am going back to Kadara.” Cerise told her with a kind smile. Joevett shook her head that anyone could consider Kadara home.

“But. You were the one who did this… It should be you.” Moshae Sjefa patted Joevett’s shoulder and looked at Cerise. The older angara understanding this need to keep her interference a secret. Not that she had any intention of honoring it.

“Ryder here understands. It was her idea to bring you back, but.” Cerise shook her head.

“I’m not taking you to Aya.” Cerise turned to look at Trixa who nodded. “My place isn’t there. It never was.” Regret welled up in her as she turned her head before the tears started, the spectre of self-doubt hovering above her shoulders again. “But, I can at least give him this.” Joevett realized she wouldn’t get anywhere with the small human. She went with the Moshae to her shuttle and they went to Aya for the reunion.

“You sure this is a good idea boss? This could hella backfire.” Trixa murmured as they waved the shuttle away. Cerise turned to look at Trixa with a snort.

“When is he not angry at me for some reason or another? He should appreciate this gift and hopefully their family will begin to heal.” The two mercenaries went to their own shuttle and headed back to Kadara. Cerise would wait for an email from Moshae Sjefa to tell her how the reunion went. She didn’t have to wait too long after settling back into the headquarters.

Cerise,

I hope this finds you well on Kadara. Do be careful on that planet, will you? I’m emailing you to tell you the reunion went as well as can be expected. Evfra is his usual taciturn self but I believe this is a good step forward. He agreed to let Joevett stay on Aya, despite it not being his decision to make, and has agreed to slowly work towards a relationship again. I should tell you, I did not keep your name omitted as previously agreed on. I know we agreed but Evfra deserved to know the truth that it was you that did this.

Also, please put some salve on your face. The bruising will fade quickly with it.

Moshae Sjefa

#mass effect andromeda #evfra de tershaav #evfra x ryder #cerise ryder #moshae sjefa

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eyesaremosaics · 7 years ago

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Epiphany: step one "clarity"

This morning… A fact was suddenly made so clear to me. As thought the quarreling cloud of self doubt burned off like the fog into the early afternoon. It hit me all at once. The reason this person could not love an accept me for who I was… Is because they could not fully love and accept themselves. Their self hatred ran so deep, that they projected all their own insecurities from their own past experiences on me as though I were doing it to them. It pulled the past into the present moment, and held us captive there, in great pain, for years.

Truthfully, I mirrored that behavior back to the same extent. We both showed up in each other’s reality, to light up our fears and insecurities. Our fears of self worth, deserve-ability, our sexual prowess, personal power. We brought all these issues up to the forefront in each other’s lives��. Because we were not dealing with them.

Neither of us was facing our wounding, because it was too raw. We both self destructed to escape from having to really sit soberly, in silent terror, with the monument of our emotions. We may have manifested it differently, but the pain was the same. That is why we drew together initially. We trauma bonded. Two very hurt children trying to huddle together for some kind of protection.

I tried so hard to love all the hurt, the anger, the pain out of him. I thought if I could just hold him long enough, show him I would always be there, that maybe one day he would stop being so angry. Poisoning himself with anger on a daily basis. He was angry as a cover emotion for pain. Underneath that anger, he is deeply hurt.

I had to cry for both of us, because he couldn’t. As a healer, and an empath I had to hold his pain in my body everyday. It made me physically ill. I didn’t realize I was doing this. Trying to heal him energetically by taking his pain. My taking it in, was destroying me. I began to lose my identity, and the only thing which helped numb the pain was alcohol.

I realize now: The thoughts and ideas we both had swirling in our heads about each other… It’s all just radio static. It was his tape in his head and my tape playing in my head–projected on each other. In reality. It was both of us hating ourselves together. It hurt him to watch me do it to myself, because he was in denial that he was doing the same. He knew my anguish was because of him, and that made him feel even worse. I felt that I was not doing my job, I wasn’t healing him properly, therefore I must not be good. I must be useless. This lit up my fears, and led to my self destruction.

It was all a chain, and even though he may not have loved me as much as other girls from his past, I know that I definitely impacted him. There is no way either of us could escape unscathed. This thing was frightfully irresistible. We were magnetized towards each other… Because we shared a similar kind of pain.

I’m reminded strongly of claymore. “Does it l…hurt?” “Oh I see… You mean this scar. It does look bad, but it doesn’t hurt as much as you might think.” “But it does hurt you. I see it on your face everyday. Your eyes…they look just like my eyes do. Like you’re scared and alone but you don’t want anyone to know. I know–”

The claymore realized: “she wasn’t hugging me because I saved her. She was hugging me because we had shared the same kind of pain. She felt our kinship, even when I didn’t… I kicked this tiny girl over and over… And all she wanted was to be held. She made me realize something, I thought I’d never learn. That even silver eyes like these, could still shed tears.”

His level of blaming, judging, and shaming others, comes from secretly doing that to himself inside. He knows he has done dark and terrible things, and deep inside, he feels the weight of it slithering in his gut all the time. He blames others, because he was always blamed as a child. It’s easy to understand why he developed that defense mechanism.

For me, as a healer, I internalize everything. I make everything about something “I did”. He saw that as selfish, or self obsession–it wasn’t that. Because my parents divorced when I was 2… Though I can’t remember it… My therapist said: “two years old is the time when a child comes to realize that they have an impact on their environment. At this developmental stage, they are egocentric, and think everything that happens (good or bad) is because of them.”

One minute both parents were there loving me, the next minute it was mommy and I in a dingy apartment with no furniture…. And daddy was just gone. Even though I saw him On weekends, he pawned me off on my aunt and vovo who bagged and criticized me. Around this time, I began to be abused sexually. “Your dad wasn’t there to protect you. Inside you feel that no one has ever protected you. They just left you to be harmed.”

Because harm came to me so young, I developed a self destructive personality. Self destruction is the fear of being out of control. These things that happened to me–were out of my control. I was being subjected to them against my will. My way of controlling my own reality. Of having a say in it, was to do it myself before anyone else got the chance.

This is why scorpio is attracted to me. It is in a scorpions nature… If it is in danger, to turn the poison in on itself. To kill itself before any outside influence can. I developed this technique as a maladaptive coping mechanism. Yet still I always rise again. Just as the Phoenix (the exalted form of Scorpio, it is their destiny to become the Phoenix if they are evolved as a psychological/spiritual being). It’s why my personality card is Death/Rebirth.

We came together, to teach each other important lessons. We thought we could find the healing power of love on each other. That the other person could save us from Our own inner darkness. In truth, we needed to find that within. We needed to purify our own darkness and give our light to each other from the inside. When you live in darkness, when you make the choice to be there, you can’t give love.

I couldn’t give it to myself, because I desperately needed it from him. He did the same thing. We both reacted differently to our needs not being met, but it was the same core issue. Self denial. I just hope one day he comes to understand this. His judgment is an impediment to love and connection. No one can get through with a wall that high. He'll never be truly happy until he starts forgiving and understanding himself. If he understood himself better, be wouldn't judge others so harshly. Because he holds himself to such a rigid set of standards, he never meets them, nor does anyone else.

I also know that I am not the first girl to be this way with him. I can hear his spirit ruminating. Through the tarot cards... The empress. He is asking himself: why do I always draw this kind of woman? It is because of everything I am describing here. Self denial, emotional unintelligence will be reflected in your relationships. It will keep showing up until you get the message.

as for my message: I have to learn to love myself enough not to be affected by other people’s thoughts and opinions. I have to develop true self confidence. Letting people in is not the problem, it is keeping them. People do ’t want to stick around to watch something fall apart and refuse to do anything about it. It’s hard to watch someone surrender their power. No one can give it to you. Power comes from within.

Because my power was always taken from me, in my past lives, I give it up easily. I am used to the subjugation. My life lesson is to stand strong and growl back at anyone who growls at me, instead of submitting blindly to the will of others. I will never live the life I want until I master that.

#me #epiphany #self awareness #self analysis #psychology #spirituality #relationships #karmic relationships #toxic relationships #self healing

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rwbyremnants · 7 years ago

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THIS CHAPTER: July: stroking through clothes, lap-sitting, grinding, supreme angst, humiliation. TW: rape mentions/accusations (no actual rape though)

Phoooooo, I know this one is REALLY intense. But yeah, I had the idea for it from the beginning, that it would be one of the big intense moments for Ruby and Yang. Anyway so from here on there's a little fallout, and next chapter gets back to Enabler goodness - don't worry!

=Chapter 11

The following morning, Yang was awoken by a teasing hand. She should have expected it; after all, she and Ruby had gone past the boundary of sisters too many times now for it to be “shocking”. Still, she thought she would at least be given the opportunity of waking up fully first.

The rest of the night before had been nice and easy. Summer and Taiyang both seemed quiet, but they said they were tired. Their dad proved it by falling asleep and snoring during their TV watching, which meant they weren’t going to do anything more involved than that. It suited Yang fine; they could try for something that more encompassed the phrase “family fun” another night. Plenty of time left.

Given that Yang was still sated, she and Ruby didn’t try anything else like that once the parents were in bed. Kisses and snuggles, whispered conversations. Ruby said she wanted to make out with her during Akira, and Yang figured it couldn’t hurt anything to say “maybe”. After all, maybe the movie would be good and she wouldn’t want to be distracted.

The hand went a little faster, and she felt breasts pushing into her back slightly through a couple of layers of fabric. Apparently, Ruby had decided they would do this without even acknowledging each other; an interesting little game. Already, she felt like she could finish within a few more minutes if they kept up the same pace.

“Mmhhh,” she finally groaned softly, hips squirming, wanting to thrust into the hand. But she also wanted Ruby to do whatever she wanted, have her own fun. Either way, it wouldn’t be long.

Hot breath caressed over her neck and the side of her head. She was leaning in; was she going to nibble her ear? Yang knew she wouldn’t mind that in the slightest.

“You like this?” a husky voice asked. Not Ruby’s.

“Mmm… mm?” Her quiet moan turned into a question at the end.

Not Ruby’s voice.

Whose? Her eyes went wide as she gazed at the shadows on the wall in front of her. It looked like Ruby hunched just a little bit over her own silhouette. So if not Ruby… it had to be…

“Want me to finish you off?” the voice asked as the jerking went faster. Harder. Too hard; it felt great, but it also hurt. Regardless, she was still about to blow. “Isn’t that what you want most?”

Yang finally forced herself to roll slightly, seeking out the other in her bed with her eyes. She found silver, flinty ones staring down into hers. Those of Summer Rose.

“Wh-wha… what are… Summer?!”

That caused her to smirk, though it was a nasty one. “You want to call out my name? Fine. Go for it, if that’s your idea of a good time. Whatever.”

“No,” she breathed right away. It was inarticulate, and didn’t specify what she was saying “no” to. Her heart jumped higher into her throat when a lot more things connected in her brain: Summer. Ruby’s mom. Jerking her off, telling her to call out her name. In bed with her! Was this some kind of stupid dream?

What the hell was going on?

“You’re almost there,” she encouraged, covering Yang’s mouth with her other hand as she stroked harder and harder, and Yang half-screamed into the soft flesh - for all the good it did her. “Shhh. Just do it. Give in. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

It felt so good, despite the slight pain. But it was also wrong. This couldn’t be happening - couldn’t be Ruby’s mother giving her a morning handjob for no reason! The words she was saying sounded mean, but they also sounded like dirty talk. She didn’t quite understand…

But she did know Summer was right; she was almost done. If she didn’t do something drastic, she was going to finish with her half-sister’s mother’s hand around her cock, and she couldn’t let that happen.

“That’s it. A few more sec-AH!”

When Summer bumped into the floor, hands sprawling out to either side to keep her head from whacking against the gym equipment behind her, Yang saw she was dressed normally. For some reason, she had been picturing her as naked again, or wearing some sexy negligee from a Bond movie, but no; she was wearing black capris and a normal green shirt. There were two little bits poking up from within said shirt, but otherwise she looked as she always did.

Well, her face was also different. Instead of the kind, reassuring face from most of their interactions, or the flustered look from that unfortunate incident with the all-over tanning, she was seeing cold fury. Maybe even hatred. Her cheeks were flushed with red and her nipples were hard, sure, but Yang could reasonably guess that was a purely physical reaction. This was not a woman who wanted to do what she had been doing.

But for all that thinking and looking, it was half a minute before Yang could sit up, face her, and come up with the eloquent query, “What the hell?!”

“I can’t believe you pushed me off the bed,” Summer managed to breathe.

“I can’t believe you’re surprised I pushed you! Like, what the fuck were you doing to me?!”

At that, her anger returned in full force, and she sat up straighter. “What was I doing to- are you serious? After what you’ve been doing under my roof, you disgusting… freak?!”

“What I… what do you mean?” Feeling smaller, she whispered, “Do you mean me being trans? But… you already knew…” Eyes darting down to her raging boner, she swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you hated me for that.”

“Not for that!” she snapped impatiently. “For what you’ve been doing to Ruby!”

Eyes wide, she glanced up at her. No. There was no way she could know about that. No way! “Huh?”

“Don’t even bother trying to deny it. I have evidence. DNA evidence.” Without further delay, she pulled a plastic baggie out of her pocket and dangled it at her own eye level so that Yang could see it easily enough.

The condom. The condom wrapper was in there with it, and they were both sealed up tight, with some of Yang’s lingering essence trapped between layers of latex.

“Oh…”

“OH!” Summer burst out, twitching as if she had almost thrown it at her. “You come into my house, spy on me in the nude and then tell me it was an ‘accident’, defile my daughter, and then, what, ‘oh’ is the best you can come up with?!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Yang yelped, sitting up a little straighter now, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She saw Summer tense and prepare to run, as if anticipating that Yang might attack. So she held up both hands with her palms outward as she went on, “You don’t understand; it’s not-”

“Then what is it? You’re just cranking one out in her room while she’s not there? That’s pretty disgusting, too; either one tells me that you should never be welcome in my home again.”

Shaking her head out, trying not to let her sheer terror and confusion cloud her judgment, she finally managed to mutter, “I… b-but why were you… Summer, you were jerking me off!”

The woman’s eyes glanced down to the still-hard length poking through Yang’s waistband, and her lip curled. “Yes, I was. I had to know… I liked you, Yang. I thought you were a good girl who messed up; I bought what you sold me. But this? This is pretty solid evidence that you aren’t as innocent as I assumed. So I thought… if I did this, if I touched you and you weren’t guilty, you would wake up and punch me in the face. And then I could worry about where the condom came from.” Again, her expression began to turn harder still. “But I knew it was you. I just had to establish for sure that you and Ruby were… were doing things sisters shouldn’t be doing.”

“By jerking me off? Are you nuts?! That’s so wrong, in ways way more wrong than-”

“Only if you were used to her doing it would you let me do it for you,” she snapped, and Yang had to look away. It was true. None of Summer’s business, maybe, but she couldn’t deny the truth of her claim. “As long as you thought it was her…”

Yang digested that for a few seconds. Yes, Summer’s glare and her accusations were hurting her… but she also knew she was wrong about certain things. However, her first question wasn’t directly about that.

“What if I never turned around? I can’t believe you were really going to finish me off.”

“A handjob is nothing,” Summer said evasively, though she did look nauseated. “I’d also have the DNA to compare to what’s in the condom if I did. So… no matter what you did, if you didn’t wake up right away and punch me, it was going to condemn you.”

Sickened herself, she folded her arms over her chest. “Then I’ll save you the trip to the cops or whatever. It’s mine. Ruby pulled it off me herself and threw it away. You got that digging through her trash, right?”

“I… right,” she answered, a little stunned by Yang’s admission.

“And I guess we’re oversharing, so how about this? I came too early. Ruby and I were all excited to maybe go all the way, and I didn’t even make it to her finishing putting it on me before I squirted. She felt sorry for me, I felt embarrassed, she threw the condom away. Then we cuddled. That’s all that happened.”

Throughout that entire story, Summer had been looking equal parts enraged and disgusted, and regretful that she was having to hear such things. “I… you just… and you can’t even act like you did anything wrong!”

“I didn’t. Ruby and I… we’re in l-”

“NO.”

“In love.”

“You are not,” she snapped at her, standing up and pocketing the condom. “Even if you were, which you aren’t, it’s not real love. You can’t be in love with a blood relative like that! It’s sick and demented to think you can be, and I’m going to tell your father how incredibly fucked up you are!”

Yang stood, as well, and she was almost relieved to feel her arousal slip back down beneath her waistband; at least it was out of sight. Then she grasped Summer’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Summer burst out. “Are you going to… to hurt me to shut me up? That’s your big plan?”

“What? No! I just want you to stand still so I can talk to you!”

Glancing down, she gulped and whispered, “Talk? Because that’s not what this looks like.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s your fault, remember? If you didn’t take advantage of me while I was sleeping, I wouldn’t have one right now!”

That got her to stop looking so superior. “What? You’re saying I- no, I was proving a point! Nothing more! And you were right at home with me doing it until you found out I wasn’t my daughter!”

“See, that’s something that doesn’t make any sense to me,” Yang went on, backing her up to the wall. Summer squeaked when her back hit it. She hadn’t even been sure why she was beginning to feel so angry herself until that moment, when she gave voice to the worry. “I woke up and you were touching me, Summer. I didn’t know you would do that, and I was not okay with it. What does that sound like to you?”

Swallowing hard, Summer got a lot angrier. “You’re disgusting. I was certainly NOT trying to do that. You were going to wake up, there was no way you wouldn’t, and… and anyway, it was because you’re already doing that to Ruby!”

“I’m NOT! Ruby and I… it’s not like that, I love her, and she loves me! Believe it or not!” she added when Summer took a breath to respond. “I’d never hurt her, never in a million years, okay?! I…” The very thought was making her eyes fill with tears. “Stop saying that, I can barely stand to let her do anything for me as it is!”

“No, you’re wrong! LIAR!” Reaching down, she gripped the arousal; it had just begun to fade, but the hand made it spring back to where it had been. “See? Even after you knew it was me, you wanted to finish! You don’t love Ruby, you just want to use her! Use me, use anyone you can!”

Reaching down, she swatted the arms away, and saw Summer flinch and draw back against the wall, shaking and scared. “You’re going to do it again! I said ‘no’ and I meant it!”

“Alright!” she breathed, face still angry but eyes full of fear. “F-fine, just… let’s talk about this!”

“You keep doing things!” Yang snapped, impatient at her trying to turn this around on her. “Hands off my dick for two seconds, okay?!”

“FINE! I won’t if you won’t!”

They both stood there huffing for a few seconds, Summer with her back pushed up against the wall and Yang with her fists clenched at her sides. The obvious signs of what they had almost done showed through their clothes. Yang glanced at the door, noting that Summer had closed it behind her; at least no one would literally walk past and see them like that.

“I almost jerked you off,” Summer finally admitted. “That’s not alright. I… was so angry, and I still am, I thought it was best to… to just do something to prove that you’ve been…”

“We haven’t had sex yet.” Then she sighed and said, “Why am I even telling you this? It’s none of your business.”

“Of course it is! My daughter’s half-sister is trying to get in her pants! It’s WRONG!” With a roll of her eyes, she snapped, “Even if I may have gone about this the wrong way, I can deal with that later; I still know that this was something I needed to put a stop to, by some way or another!”

In a quiet voice, Yang asked, “Did you maybe want to try it?”

“What?”

“Jerking me off. Doing something to me. Like… maybe not on purpose, but what if, like… after feeling it that day…”

“Stop,” Summer ordered her. “I did not want to do what I just did. I felt like I had to, or else either Ruby would keep being hurt, or… or you would find a way to pretend you weren’t doing what you were doing. I told you, I wanted proof, and I basically have it now, even without the DNA evidence.”

“You have proof that Ruby and I have that kind of relationship. Not that I’m ‘doing it to her’. God, do you even realise that she’s the one who’s more comfortable with this? I’ve been losing my shit! I like her, but I know it’s not normal, and… and I’ve been so worried, and trying to decide if it’s okay or not, and… and she doesn’t care! It’s like, just knowing that I like her back in the same way is good enough for her, and…”

When Yang sniffled again, this time some of Summer’s composure slipped. “It’s not right, Yang. I… know this can happen from time to time, but you’re the oldest and you should know better than to let anything come of it. Maybe you’re feeling remorse, or maybe this is an act. It doesn’t matter; you are responsible, and you let the family down by doing this. How is Ruby ever supposed to have a normal relationship after her first one is with a relative? This is going to stay with her forever.”

The words stabbed into Yang like javelins. But she still answered through her tears, “No. It’s not like that. It’s… I love her, and she loves me, and… and I can’t help it! I don’t want to let her go!”

“It doesn’t matter; she’s-”

“And I won’t!”

“Excuse me?” she snapped, a little of the frost creeping back into her tone.

“You heard me! Until she tells me that it’s over, or that sh-she doesn’t want me anymore…” Standing up a little taller, lip still trembling even as her jaw set, she went on, “I’m not leaving her! You can’t make me; you can tell Dad, you can… run DNA tests, whatever, I don’t care! She’s the only one who can tell me to stop, a-and if she doesn’t do that, then y-you don’t get to!”

That shut Summer up. Her mouth opened a few times as if she were going to snap at Yang, but it was as if she could tell she was so serious that it wouldn’t matter. So finally, she turned away, arms folded as she stared at the door.

“Good,” Yang sighed weakly. “At least you’re taking me serious now instead of just, like, ignoring what I have to say.”

“What if… I took her place?”

“What?”

Turning back, she strode up to rub Yang through her shorts. It was such a sudden switch that Yang didn’t have any reaction other than to stagger back until she felt the bed push into the backs of her legs.

“Until you leave… I’ll do whatever you want,” she breathed in an odd tone. She sounded like she was trying to be sexy but her heart wasn’t in it, which was probably exactly the case. “As long as you don’t tell Tai… he can’t know. He or Ruby.”

“Stop, please,” Yang begged her, hating that her body was responding to it. Another minute or two and she would have been fully soft, and could have ignored the hand completely if she focused. Damn Summer’s timing!

“You were right. I do want this. It’s… alright, I don’t want it,” she went on a little more honestly, and it was all the more depressing for it. “I tried not to say that, but I can’t help it; this disgusts me. It disgusted me when I thought you were spying on me, and when I felt this for the first time.” A little squeeze that made Yang shiver. “But it turned me on, too. I’m… flattered that you think my old mom-body is attractive enough to make this pop up.”

Swallowing, she whispered, “Please, Mrs. Rose-Xiao Long… don’t do this.”

“Trying to use that to make me remember I’m married to your father? I know that. You can’t even hope to understand how well I know that.” Jerking a little again, even if only through the shorts, she whispered, “You don’t understand what love is. You don’t have anything to protect. I do. If I have to do this, to sate you to keep you from hurting my little girl, I will. Gladly.”

“I’m not hurting her,” she breathed shakily, too dumbfounded at what was happening to react other than to squirm and hate herself. Finally, she felt her legs give out and she sat down heavily on the bed. “Ah!”

“You’re not being honest.” Her hand fisted in Yang’s hair as she sat down on her lap. “We both feel how disgusting you are.”

“Fine! I hate this! I hate that I think you’re hot, okay?! And that Ruby’s hot!” Then she gritted her teeth against the mild pain, and the pleasure below. “But she’s the only one who gets to do this for me! N-not you!”

Without any hesitation, she whispered, “That’s unacceptable. Just… take what I’m offering.” Grinding her ass from side to side, she began to caress Yang’s back with her other hand. “Ruby’s a girl. I’m a woman. I know what to do to send you into the clouds. To make your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head. And all you have to do for me to give this gift to your body… is to stop trying to sleep with my daughter.”

Of course it was tempting. Yang wished she wasn’t tempted, that it was as easy as remembering that Ruby was the one she truly wanted to be with, and making her hard-on disappear. But it wasn’t. Summer was extremely attractive. She would never accept her deal in a million years, but she couldn’t ignore what she was doing to her.

“I’m begging you to stop,” Yang whispered weakly.

“If I stop, will you leave Ruby alone?” she demanded. “That’s just as good to me; the result is what I’m after.”

“I won’t leave Ruby alone no matter what you threaten me with! So just stop, b-because… because I don’t wanna share my dad’s wife!”

“Then you’d better reconsider which one you want more. One of them is going to happen.”

It was dirty pool, but Yang had to go there; Summer wasn’t listening. Protecting Ruby was the only thing she cared about, and she had tunnel vision, blocking out everything else. It was going to take drastic measures to get through to her.

“Then you’re going to rape me!”

Instantly, Summer’s hands shot back as if burned. “What?”

“Y-you heard me,” Yang breathed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please, please don’t make me say it again. Don’t ever make me say it again, please don’t…”

A few seconds later, Summer was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring down at Yang. Watching her. Yang could only see her feet in the middle of the room; she couldn’t look at her face. It was a cruel thing she had just done to her stepmother, and she absolutely did not want to see what her face would look like after that accusation was flung at her.

“I should still be mad at you,” Summer whispered eventually. “I… you were ready to- all I wanted…” Another pause. “You were doing the same thing to Ruby. Why should I care?”

“Because you know I wasn’t. Even if you don’t like it, you… know that wasn’t what I did to her. Or maybe you still don’t, but God…”

“How did this even start? You can’t pretend you’re innocent, one of you had to start this.”

Finally peering up at her, she saw that Summer looked so disgusted and ashamed with herself that she even felt a little guiltier for having said it. Despite the results.

“If I tell you… some of it, will you promise to listen? Like, really listen, not just keep saying ‘you’re bad’ all the time.”

Arms folding over her chest, she sat on one of the weight benches. “Go on.”

So Yang explained. She told her about Ruby spotting her morning wood, about the instant interest. How they had both felt a strange attraction from the moment they met, but it took that minor incident to bring it to light. How from that moment on, they had both been alternately curious and flirtatious, and then tried to pretend they weren’t. And she concluded by assuring her that, despite the “playing” they did, they had not enjoyed full-on penetrative sex yet.

“And I haven’t touched her, period,” she followed up with. “It’s… I’m sure Ruby’s gonna hate that I told you all this, but like, you weren’t going to believe me if I didn’t spill. So… so yeah.”

All through the telling, Summer had been fairly quiet, only whispering a question or two when she was confused about a point here or there. And she had cried. Not sobbing or loud like Ruby might have, but silent tears, a face that was a mask of cold. The difference between a “girl” and a “woman” as she had stated.

“It’s still not right,” Summer insisted quietly. “I mean, maybe it’s true, you aren’t to blame… but this shouldn’t happen. You’re both beautiful young girls, you could be with anyone! Why your own half-sister? It’s wrong, and I know you already know that!”

Swallowing hard, she went on, “Actually, um, Ruby said she found something online about, like… if you don’t grow up with your sister, you’ll want to bang her? Something like that. I’m probably explaining wrong, but the idea was that sometimes you can feel attracted to those… things that are alike in each other. I guess.”

“Right,” Summer said with an empty laugh. “That sounds like my Ruby, looking stuff up online. I’ll have to check into that myself.”

“I… I mean, it’s like you wanting my D, right?” When Summer’s smile fell completely, she went on, “N-not that you should, or really want to or anything! Just like… I probably remind you of my dad, and he’s what you’re into, s-so… that’s why you’d be into me, at all. Like those wives who leave their husband for his brother.”

Rolling her eyes, she stared off into the corner for a moment before nodding. “Well, Maury Povich’s thought processes aside, you probably are right about that. The similarities between you two… maybe I just have a ‘type’. And really, it’s also about you being young and attractive in general; like I said, flattering that you got aroused by me. Even if I had no intention of doing anything about it.”

“Until today.”

“Enough,” she snapped at Yang, pointing her index finger at her. “That was purely because I felt I had no choice. I already barely trust you further than I can throw you; don’t push it. I’m in charge in this house, not you or Ruby.”

“Or Dad?” Summer merely pursed her lips, so Yang shrugged. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“This mood shouldn’t be lightened. I…” Throwing up both hands, she admitted the truth of the situation, both to herself and to Yang. “My stepdaughter finds both me and my daughter attractive. Claims to be in love with my daughter. Allegedly, both of us return some of those feelings. This is insanity.”

Looking down at her own feet, she whispered, “I know you have no reason to believe just my word, but like… talk to Ruby. Just… I don’t wanna hurt her, and if you really think I am, even after hearing her side… I’ll try to talk to her about breaking up. But I’m not gonna do that shitty thing where I just drop her like a bad habit without her knowing why or trying to talk it out. That’s not how I play things, and she’s not some pet who can’t understand what’s going on. She’s an adult.”

“No, she isn’t. Not yet. The government might disagree with me, but I know she’s not ready for… for all this.”

“About as ready as I am. Like… did I mention the premature moment?”

Laughing, Summer shook her head. It seemed they had talked through the tension, and all that was left was acceptance of the bitter truths. “That, more than anything, tells me you might actually be for real with this. No guy would ever want to admit that.”

“No guy would,” Yang grunted.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you’re a woman. But you do have a dick, and usually those who own dicks don’t want to admit anything could be wrong with them.”

“And most of those dick-owners are guys,” Yang finished for her, and Summer nodded. “Alright, I’ll give it to you. I just… I did feel really embarrassed, but only because I think Ruby was looking forward to it. Like, she was so-”

“STOP! You can stop there.” Running her hands through her hair, she shivered in sheer disgust. “My fault for asking for details, but I appreciate getting fewer of them, especially about what Ruby wants and does.”

“That’s fair. I mean, I’m definitely not jonesing to hear what you and Dad do.” She laughed, and Yang smiled a little. “And… okay, can we agree on some stuff?” No answer. “That… you won’t tell him, but you’ll talk to Ruby about this? Like, I hate that you’re gonna have to, but… I know you don’t trust me.”

“I want to, Yang. I do like you as a person, just… this is two things that made me wonder if I should trust you. That’s one too many to be a coincidence; made me start to doubt whether or not you’re a good person.”

Folding her arms over her chest, she shot back, “Think about it from my side. First, I walk in on you naked, all laid out for me, and then you wake me up with a handjob and sexy whispering in my ear?”

“That wasn’t- I didn’t do that for you, it was… was… your point, I guess.” Sighing, she rubbed at her face for a moment. “Okay, okay. Yes, I… I think we’ll need to do that. I’ll talk to Ruby. And maybe I’ve been wrong not to trust you, even if I still think the two of you are making a mistake.”

“It’s a mistake we’re making together. I love her so much… I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Think that’s a lie if you want to, but if you’re asking…”

It didn’t look like it made Summer feel any better, but she did nod her acceptance of Yang’s point of view as she stood up. “For the record… I’m sorry I tried to… force myself on you. I wasn’t thinking, I was just-”

“Mama bird.”

“Exactly. I was being an angry mama bird.” They both smiled at that instant understanding. “And you’re just as protective of Ruby as a… a girlfriend, I guess. You really stood up to me in a lot of ways I didn’t think you would, because I wasn’t thinking of your feelings as genuine. It… says a lot for what kind of woman you are.”

“Back at you, Summer.” When Yang winked, she glared. “Seriously, um… I would apologise for how I keep getting hard in front of you, but it’s not like I’m doing it for no reason.”

“Well, I suppose we have to stop letting ourselves get into situations where we turn each other on. I don’t want to compete with my daughter for her girlfriend.” Merely saying those words made Summer’s lip curl. “God… enough, enough. I’ll go wait for her to get back from the store.”

But as Summer’s hand fell on the doorknob, Yang asked, “Turn each other on, eh?”

Summer didn’t turn around, or otherwise openly acknowledge Yang’s insinuation. She just let out a sigh of disgust as she pulled the doorknob and slipped out.

#every little part of you #rwby smut #rwbyremnants

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jess-oh · 6 years ago

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Reflection

hey journal! my body is under a lot of stress today—probably from lugging around my laptop all day, errrday.

i really dont even know who i am anymore or where my priorities lie or anything. ive been more pessimistic and self deprecating recently. but it was pretty nice to read my journal entries from the mission field and rewatching/listening to the performances from the festival in Turkey! I miss it all.

I totally forgot how much I struggled with my own innerdemons and pride while I was there! I’m glad I documented it.

I felt pretty challenged by Jason earlier. I think my go to is to hate myself and make a joke about it. I simultaneously think I’m better than everyone else and hate myself whenever I compare myself to those around me, lol. What a strange complex indeed.

I think the biggest thing I learned while in Turkey was to not be so results oriented. tbh, i think my thoughts and emotions have just been so clouded recently and i havent been able to think straight in a long time. a lot of what i’ve said has contradicted other statements ive made. im not who i used to be. i used to be so good at being vulnerable and honest and real and genuine and really did care for others. but ive grown a lot more selfish since then. how can i call myself a Christian and claim these goals when I myself am not living them out? I want to. I’ve been wanting to help others but moreso bc i wanted to feel better about myself and not because i just wanted them to be okay. and i think thats why ive been struggling to create these more intimate bonds and relationships as of recently. im so quick to judge far too often and i really dont want to bc who am i to say or judge anyone? only God can do that. we all have our own stories and sin. i feel like I’m “further” in my relationship with God than others but what does that matter if I’m not moving forward? At least they are deliberately spending more time with God and not just remaining stagnant and complacent in their position! And when I have had the opportunity to talk to people, I’ve found myself finding the conversation boring and wanting to move onto the next best thing instead of just treasuring the moment and opportunity that I had right then and there. I’ve allowed myself to become far too prideful and I want to come from a much more humble mindset once more. Everyone is hurting and everyone has their own story. It isn’t my job to fix them. It isn’t my responsibility and no one expects me to do so.

In February, I honestly didn’t want to live anymore. I think Sharlene helped a lot and going home to be with friends and family and attend Robbin’s funeral helped a lot. But I felt like I was in so much suffering and it felt overwhelming. He was dead and even in Turkey when I saw someone who looked like him, I was so shocked and distraught at the thought of having to relive that pain and see him again that I couldn’t help but cry and lose focus. My grandpa had cancer and things weren’t looking good. I couldn’t even bring myself to sing “Little Miss Sunshine” and I couldn’t even imagine a reality or possibility where he did pass away. I felt so much guilt and shame after Robbin passed. All the things I could have said. All the things I should’ve done. But I never did. And just like that, he was gone. And I felt like I was in an excruciating amount of pain and suffering. It didn’t matter if I was on the train or walking home or anywhere else public. I didn’t care anymore. At all. I had lost my family. He was gone. And I was so tempted to kill myself bc being with God in Heaven and having eternal life seemed like a much sweeter reality than the Hell I was living in. I didn’t trust the people at Lakeview yet and honestly, I still don’t. Though I am doing better.

I can’t make people happy because I myself am in so much misery. I am so pessimistic and upset and miserable. How could I possibly bring someone joy when I myself am feeling the opposite? I want to radiate with warmth and stand firm in my identity with the Lord. Not in aimlessly walking in this dark chasm that I’ve been walking in for who knows how long. There’s a lot that I don’t say in fear that it is “not as much” in comparison with others. There’s a lot that I don’t say because I don’t want people to see me as weak or think I’m less able of accomplishing certain tasks.

I don’t want to help for the sake of helping. I want to help because I genuinely care. I’ve grown to be so selfish and apathetic towards it all. And God, I truly am so sorry for the things that I’ve said and the things that I’ve done. I am a child of God. I am a child of God. I am a child of God.

I used to jump at the chance of sharing common interests with others because I knew how lonely it had been being in the outside circle and never fitting in. Never having the opportunity to getting to know anyone because I was judged before I even had the chance. And my bitterness has definitely taken form and prevented me from doing a lot of things. It’s prevented me from going back to Sa-Rang without seeing them all as enemies targeting me. It’s prevented me from really trusting people within the church. How I can I hope to build a culture based in vulnerability when I myself am not willing to do so?

“Judge not, that you be not judged. 2 For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. 3 Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? 4 Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.” Matthew 7:1-4

I want to be genuinely interested and invested in others. When they share what their interests are, I want to take the time to indulge myself in those things so that I may better understand them. I want to build a community and intentional relationships with these people. I don’t want to help so that people can praise my name. I want to help because I care about them.

I think I’ve been more selfish and conceited recently because I am so desperate for someone to care about me. And I am so blind to the fact that people do. I think Johnathan cares, Jason cares, P. Josh cares, Amanda cares, and I’m sure Johnny does too. David L. cares, Rachel cares, Joyce P. cares. My sister cares, my mom cares, my dad cares. Jeanne cares, Sofia cares, Andrew cares. But I have been so blinded by my own self hatred and criticism that I haven’t been able to see or accept that. I just keep digging my own grave and running into a brick wall when they are more than willing to help. I just have to be honest and reach out to them. Asking for help doesn’t make me a burden. It is only when I expect them to always be by my side in every moment but if I am genuine about it and try to care for them.

By my own standards, I am the worst dirt of the Earth. By those around me, they praise me for my commitment, hard working nature, and determination to get anything done that I set my mind to. I don’t want to believe I’m better than anyone else because I really am not. I am so broken in my ways. I am so confused and lost and feel like I’ve seen nothing but darkness for so long. In February, I decided to try and go all in with God and see if anything changed. If I read the Bible, if I got super involved at church, went on a mission, and really did my best to give everything I am to the Lord and live a life so deeply rooted within the church, what would happen? If I still wasn’t happy and felt miserable then I would know it wasn’t worth it and God is not real in the end. And I would cast Him out and pretend He is fake. And that mindset of going all in has lowkey been super toxic to my faith. Because yes, I have been doing all these things and usually with an ulterior motive in mind. But because of this underlying doubt and caution, I’ve been so quick to point out inconsistencies and almost desperate to find any possible crack in the stone. But going to Turkey did really rekindle my faith, I think. There were moments when God was just so undeniable and real. When I talked to Arzu and my heart so desperately broke for her.

I don’t want to be afraid to sing loudly at church or be honest about how I’m feeling or really cry out to God during a Sunday service. I so desperately need Him. And this underlying fear has been getting in the way of me really going deeper with Him. I don’t know how long it will take for me to find my identity in Him once more. But thank you God for giving me that wakeup call because if not, I may have ended up like Johnathan’s roommate and left the faith altogether because I tried to serve too soon without having a firm foundation first in you. I do want to better equip myself. I do want to serve your people. I don’t want to serve because it’ll make me look “cool.” I don’t want to serve because of how others will perceive me. I just want to serve just as I am with all that I am. And I pray that I may be a humble servant before you, God. Because your word will not be shaken, God. It will not.

I want to have full confidence in the Lord. Knowing that my identity

I think initially coming into my freshman year, I was so scared and intimidated by everyone. But I was also much more real and genuine at the time. I think in some part because of all the heartbreak I’ve had to face the past few years as well as hanging out with the wrong people and turning away from God has left me very bitter and apathetic and self-centered and conceited and too afraid to be real. I put up a facade and walls upon walls upon walls up to protect myself from others. It’s in part because of Sa-Rang. But it’s also because I have felt pain so deeply and extremely during my time in college. And it’s honestly been so hard. I’ve relied on people to help me through those moments time and time again but something always happens when I can no longer be friends with them in that capacity anymore. Saying guys and girls are different and can’t trust the MAST guys bc they’re guys is just a cop-out. It’s an excuse so that I don’t have to open myself up. I don’t want to judge/rebuke for the sake of doing so. I want to say these words because I care so much about my friends and genuinely want the best for them.

God, this is my prayer to you. I don’t want to do these things for the sake of doing them but I want to do them so that I may better honor and glorify you. I do need a community. I do desire just coming as I am to someone. Anyone. I need another Sharlene in my life. She was there for me when I didn’t know what to do. When my cousin had passed away, I didn’t care about anything anymore. I don’t want to brag about the things I’ve done anymore. It’s uncomfortable for everyone and doesn’t make me feel any better about myself.

My family is not nearly as terrible as I make them out to be but that doesn’t make me any less scared of going home.

Instead of judging people for the things they may say against me, I want to be able to pray for them and lift them up in love.

I want to love as Christ has loved us.

I want to be so confident in my faith that I would be more than willing to die for Christ, regardless of the circumstances. Whether I must lead a life of suffering or face an immediate, I want to be willing. Even if I am imprisoned or socially outcasted or physically punished, I want to still stand tall and firm in my faith. Knowing that my God is so much greater than anything on this Earth.

#reflection

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