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giyuwu-san · 4 years

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spike into water // ushijima wakatoshi

— It’s sports season! Volleyballs and swimming caps are everywhere in this unlikely love story! But can the aspiring swim captain find a way for romance with the stoic volleyball captain Ushijima Wakatoshi?

↱ PAIRING : Ushijima Wakatoshi x Female-Swimmer!Reader

↱ WORD COUNT : 7.6K

↱ WARNINGS : Angst, Pining, Slow-burn

↱ TAGS : @assortedanime�� @tetsukuroos (I’m not even sure if you guys remember asking to be tagged LMAO)

↱ ASK : Hi! I dont know if you are still accepting requests, but if you are can i request for a oneshot of Wakatoshi falling for the (fem) swim captain at Shiratorizawa who also happens to be on the Japan swim team. I dont have a specific scenario for them interacting they could be dating and she shows up to one of games against karasuno(?) (I’ll leave jt up to you anything is fine) 😅. Thank you so much ! ❤️

↱ AUTHOR’S NOTE : It’s finally here! I’m also testing out a new format nyehe tell me what you think! Anyways this fic took me absolute ages and if you were one of the ones that had been with me throughout my writing process you know exactly what I’m talking about LMAO. But it’s finally here, so I hope you guys like it! This is also my first ever playlist fic, so each scene has their own song selected by yours truly! But it’s not mandatory for you to enjoy the fic! It just enhances the experience I think! Anyways, I don’t really know what else to say so I’ll just let you guys read it!

↱ PLAYLIST

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scene one; i’ll try

Shiratorizawa!

The pounding of the drums sent a familiar shiver through Ushijima Wakatoshi's spine. Except for the fact that the tingling wasn't usually something he felt because of the cheers. On ordinary days, the piercing screams were nothing but background noise. Something he could unconsciously drown out.

It wasn't that he was ungrateful for the support his fellow schoolmates showed, it was quite the opposite, but with the intensity of the sport he played, the uproars could only be driven back as a mere afterthought, something he would easily forget about, a buzz at the back of his mind.

Shiratorizawa!

Today, however, a thought was pushing through the forefront of his mind. It was like something was screaming at him to do something, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what.

It was currently the fourth set of their game against Karasuno, and as he looked around the sea of white and maroon, as well as the contrasting colors of black and orange, he couldn't help but feel strange.

Shiratorizawa!

"Shiratorizawa?"

Her face dropped as the sudden realization dawned upon her, and Ushijima had no choice but to watch silently. The way her soft eyes tensed into a tight glare, gazing back into his with a look of concealed hurt and betrayal. It pained him, to see the person he cared so much about, shrink back into the weak, vulnerable girl he had met all those years ago.

The ringing of the referee's whistle was what brought him out of his daze, walking briskly to the sidelines as the game was halted by a technical timeout. The cheers of the crowd didn't stop and with the added layer of another school, the overlapping cries were muddling together in what seemed to be a second battle off the court. The rhythmic beating of drums, the frantic clapping of cheer bats, and the deafening screams of the masses.

School was out for the day as the sun was slowly setting outside, its rays creeping through the windows, casting a golden sheen across the empty hallways. Most of the students had already rushed out as soon as the bell rang. Ushijima, however, being a new student, had to lag behind to settle the remaining paperwork with his new teachers.

And as he walked down through the empty floors, hands gripping the straps of his backpack, he felt his body halt as the peaceful campus was interrupted by an earsplitting scream.

The scream Ushijima heard resounded throughout the hallways, the sound ripping through his ears as it got dragged out by the constant echoes.

Who could that be? And at this time?

Ushijima didn't know the campus all that well, it was his first day, how could he? Yet as the screams only got worse, his feet started moving towards the sounds plaguing his elementary school's hallways. The cries getting louder as his feet stepped further in rapid succession, every step he took, the louder the screams rang in his ears.

As he crept closer, new sounds started inviting themselves through his senses, the screams were clearer, but now there was something else.

Are those water splashes?

Ushijima couldn't know for sure, but as his feet walked farther, he found himself halting in front of a room.

Opening the sliding doors, he was greeted by the sight of a girl splashing around in the water, head protruding from the surface every few seconds. And at that moment, it didn't take an adult to realize that the girl in front of him, whose screams were becoming more chocked, wasn't here to swim.

She was drowning.

The timeout had ended and Ushijima was once again standing tall on the court, eyes focused and calculating. Whatever feelings were emerging from within him, the sudden wave of nostalgia that would wash over him, they could be dealt with at another time. He needed to focus, sharpen his senses on the game in front of him, but no matter how hard he tried, there would always be an inkling feeling that lingers at the back of his conscious.

The girl was shivering and clinging onto Ushijima's body. Which now matched hers as the droplets of water fell onto the tile floors beneath them.

He couldn't quite process what exactly just happened. He couldn't understand how he had found himself in this situation, but he understood that the girl was safe. And that was all he needed to understand.

"Don't let me go," he heard her say despite her coughs. He heard her, and he listened. Holding onto her form tighter before rushing her to the nurse.

scene two; you’ve got a friend in me

"Toshiiii!" you said. The joy in your voice making itself known as you trudged further into the small yard with Wakatoshi and his father playing volleyball together. "Let me play too!" you pouted.

The young boy turned to you and nodded promptly, much to your delight.

"Y/N-chan! How nice of you to drop by!" said Ushijima's father, a wide smile plastered onto his face as he waved at you. He was always such a kind man, always welcoming you with open arms. And as you ran over to where they were playing, the smile never once left his face.

Knowing this, you could only laugh as you stared at the boy in front of you. Face emotionless and unwavering in comparison.

It had been a year since that incident in the pool. The memories that still plagued your mind sent your body shivering similarly to how it did back then. But looking at the boy staring back at you, your troubled mind found comfort in his eyes. Eyes that were calm like the grass that surrounded him, swaying softly as the wind brushed its soft fingers through it.

"Do you know how to play?" he asked you.

"N-no," you said meekly. "But if I learn, do you think I can be as good as you?"

And at that moment, the ball that was once in Wakatoshi's hands flew over to your direction. A small yelp escaped you, your arms flying up to protect your face.

"Maybe," was his only response as you huffed and picked the ball back up.

"I wasn't ready yet!" you tried acting mad but ended up laughing as the fifth-grader looked at you blankly once more. "Don't think I'm weak just because I'm a third-grader!"

"But if I thought you were weak wouldn't I have warned you before throwing the ball?" he retorted back.

"Oh yeah..." you said in sudden realization.

Ushijima's father, who was watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but laugh.

scene three; i smile

The warm beads of sand tickled your feet. The ocean waves flowing smoothly against the surface as it danced back and forth with the current. And the sun shined brightly above, casting a sheen against all that stood below it, basking everything in sunlight. It was a beautiful day.

Your family had decided to take a summer trip to the beach. It was the final week of your summer break, and once this was over, you would be coming back to school a fourth-grader.

You looked towards Ushijima and his father, having had tagged along after you had invited them. The olive-haired boy still wearing the same unwavering expression. You laughed at him despite yourself. You would think someone who was going to be in the sixth-grade, and soon a junior high-schooler would at least try to make himself seem more approachable.

You bowed to his father in greeting. The man smiling back at you before walking over to your parents for a chat, leaving you alone with Wakatoshi.

You had remained friends ever since the incident at the pool. Only having grown closer throughout the summer break with your frequent visits to his house.

"Toshi! Let's play beach volleyball!" you piped up at him as he looked at you curiously.

"Sure," he said.

But you should have known with your volleyball skills not having improved much, that the game was going to end quicker than you thought.

Huffing in frustration, you plopped down onto the sand with your arms crossed.

"Why can't I be as good as you?" you asked him. Your eyes peering up at him as a small pout played on your face.

"Maybe you're just good at something else," he said, shoulders shrugging slightly.

"Like what?" you asked, only for him to shrug once more. Making an exasperated sigh escape your lips as you laid down on the sand.

"Why don't you try learning how to swim?" he asked suddenly, making your body jolt up. Your face looking up at his with bewilderment, was he insane?

"Woah, wait, what brought this up?" you asked him. "You know I can't!"

"Why not?" was his reply. Of course, that was his reply. "We're at a beach."

"No," you said.

"Why?"

"I might drown." you looked up at him, and his eyes softened ever so slightly. He knew why you were scared, but you couldn't just keep living your life having this one memory hold you back, right? Because even if he didn't say it outright, you were his friend. And friends care about each other and want them to be better.

"I'll teach you," he said. You looked at him with shock, but with his face looking oddly determined, you agreed begrudgingly.

The water felt cold against your body as you tried to float on top of it. With Toshi supporting you as he held you up, you tried to calm down.

But it wasn't working.

The feeling of having the air blocked out, the feeling of your vision blurring, and your body going into a panic. It kept playing at the back of your mind like he was going to let go and watch you sink deeper and deeper. You felt like shaking, maybe you were, but then suddenly—

"It's okay," he said, holding you tightly. "I won't let you go."

He looked at you carefully, attentively.

"So just breathe."

He was right, it was okay.

You took a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, and the ocean breeze brush against your skin. He won't let go.

And soon it felt like you were floating, and you were. Toshi gently moving you around the water as your body continued to float against it. You looked at him, and you smiled.

It didn't take long until he started teaching you the basics of how to swim, or at least he tried to. You did now know how to float, but you still hadn't gotten over the fear of your head being below the water, and Toshi knew this.

"Take a deep breath," he said. And before you knew it, his hands covered your ears as he pushed both of your heads underwater.

It felt like you were entering a different realm. It felt peaceful, serene even. As he looked into your eyes to make sure you were okay, you stared back into his. The gentle hum of the ocean was something you never knew existed, its melody ringing in your covered ears as it almost lulled you to sleep.

It was because of him that you could hear such a beautiful song, and it was because of him you suddenly felt braver, stronger.

You brought your own hands up towards his ears, cupping them the same way his hands did with yours.

You wanted to stay like this forever, in this dream, with him.

But eventually, you had to come back up for air. Breathing in as the sunlight suddenly evaded your senses, you looked into his eyes, with a new fire evident in your own.

"One day, I'll definitely be as good as you," you said. And for the first time since meeting him at the pool that day, he smiled.

scene four; i like you

"Nice receive!"

The gymnasium watched on carefully at the match playing before their eyes. It was the last day of their elementary school's sports festival and the volleyball game playing on its final set was keeping everyone on edge. It was a close game. The third set seemed never-ending as both teams fought back and forth in a deuce.

You watched Ushijima as he moved together with his team in what seemed like some sort of spontaneous choreography. They were at match point a few seconds ago, but that was until the spiker from the other team came forward, evening out the score, and bringing both teams' scores into the 30s.

You were biting your nails, the jacket you wore seeming to be useless against the chills running through your body at the intense match. Miraculously, however, the other team's serve went too far out and placed Ushijima's team back at match point. You gripped the metal bars in front of you, your gaze fixated onto the olive-haired boy. Your head felt like exploding as the internal chanting kept getting louder and louder. And that was probably because the chanting wasn't internal anymore.

"Ushijima Wakatoshi!" you screamed, catching the attention of both him and everyone else. "Show them how strong you really are!"

His face remained expressionless like it always was, but you could feel the aura around him change. It was almost as if the air started circling him, the air pressure shifting and rotating against all opposing currents. And you knew everyone else could feel the change too. Like everyone was getting sucked into a whirlpool, a vortex.

He jumped into the sky, the setted ball flying towards him as if it knew that was where it was meant to go.

You saw him bring his hand down, and you saw the ball hit the floor.

You watched as the ball flew back up just as quickly as it had hit the ground. The sound it emitted seemed almost high pitched and scattered as it resounded around the silent gymnasium. The scattered sound, like droplets of water that would be thrown up into the air, punched upwards by something crashing into it.

The ball was what crashed into it, a spike into water.

The game ended with your school's victory. The court divided in both triumph and failure, but it was a good game nonetheless.

You were walking alongside Ushijima, still as expressionless as ever. You looked at him and couldn't help but chuckle.

"You just won a hard game," you said, eyes locking on to his profile. "Shouldn't there at least be a tiny little smile?" you chuckled even more as you brought your fingers up to the ends of his mouth and hoisting them up to form a small, makeshift smile. It was good enough.

"I'm smiling in the inside," he said. You laughed at his attempt at being playful. But he was right. After knowing him for two years, you had grown a strange skill of identifying his moods. You knew he wasn't the type of person to wear his emotions on his face, but you knew more than anyone that he felt emotions just as intensely as anyone, if not more.

You looked at him some more, imagining what kind of smile he was wearing within himself. Would it be a goofy smile? Teeth butting out? Maybe with some gums showing?

Or would it be the small, proud smile he showed you that day at the beach? When he looked at you like you were the most amazing person in the world. Like you were his pride and joy, the strongest person he knew.

He smiled at you like that, yet whenever you looked at him, you almost felt like crying. To you, he was the most amazing person in the world. Your pride and joy, the strongest person you knew.

You looked at him, and wanted to love him.

You wanted to love the way his hair would turn darker when damp from sweat. The sweat that showed he had worked hard, that he had grown stronger and will continue to do so. You wanted to love the way he was always there for you when you needed him the most, even when you didn't know he was there. You wanted to love the way he looked at you. Fantasizing that maybe he would look at you, and want to love you too.

You wanted to love him, because you do.

You smiled at him, then looked forward ahead of you.

"Come to my game later," you said, determined. Finally having the chance to show him how hard you had worked. You zipped up your club jacket and continued looking ahead. You took a deep breath. Halting your steps, you looked at him.

"I'll show you how good I've gotten."

scene five; i’ll remember

The cold air of the pool washed over your entire body, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked around the room, the bright lights that shined from above you, the white walls that surrounded you, and the aquamarine tiles that were below you. You looked at the clear water that flowed calmly within its confinements.

And then you looked at him, into his eyes.

You smiled at him, a bittersweet smile. It was his last year as an elementary school student. Soon enough, he was going to leave you behind to fulfill greater heights. He was going to leap forward and fly higher and higher.

And so were you.

You were going to show him how far you've come. That you had become someone he could be proud of, someone that you could be proud of. You were both going to become stronger.

Together.

You were both going to go separate ways, towards two different paths. And as you took your position on the stand and the whistle resounded across the room. You leaped forward towards yours.

The water hit your face as your body started moving, hearing the same song you did at the beach, just with a different melody. The tempo was faster, you were faster. It was like your body was moving, dancing, through the water.

You felt at peace. The water that you used to fight with, the water that you couldn't get along with, had finally accepted you with open arms. Letting you move through it, forming a passage for you to cross.

There were many setbacks. Times when you receded back into the girl that almost drowned, that was scared of the water taking her. There were times when you would lose your calm and fumble. Times when you would think back to the fear and let it consume you.

You were waiting for that moment to happen, waiting for it to appear and devour you.

But it never came.

Instead what appeared were the memories you had with him. All the times you had been with him, and all the times he had been with you.

"I won't let you go," he said.

You wanted to thank him for these memories. Memories that helped you get through your hardest days, memories that made you remember that he was always going to be there no matter what, always beside you.

Even if he was going to graduate soon, and leave you behind. Even if there would come a day when you would have to say goodbye, you would always keep these memories he had given you, and never let them go. Promising to yourself that you would remember.

You would remember these memories, the ones that made you love him even more.

He watched you from the sidelines as your body seemed to move in sync with the water. Watched as your head peeked out momentarily, only to gracefully dive back in. It was as if you were performing a coordinated swing, dancing along to music he could not hear.

He looked at you and saw no trace of the girl drowning in the pool that day. You had come so far, and no words could express how proud he was as he watched you swim further ahead. No fear or hesitation apparent in your form. It was like you were a completely different person.

And then your head jumped out of the water after reaching the end of the pool, and it was as if you were reborn perfectly anew.

You locked eyes, and showed him the most radiant smile he had ever seen. How could he possibly not smile back?

He looked into your eyes that gleamed brilliantly at him. Eyes that conveyed words that only he could hear, and feelings only he could accept.

"I told you," his smile grew wider. "I told you I'd be just as good as you."

scene six; when you love someone

Ushijima was walking alongside you, who was smiling brightly, feet skipping. You were looking at him with the smile he had seen countless times. The smile that was so happy, it hurt him to see you any other way.

Whenever there were times that your smile would lose its joy, it's brilliance, he wanted to give it back to you. He would do whatever it took just for your smile to stay the same. It made his heart ache thinking about the times you weren't smiling, when you were weak and shaking in his arms.

But as he looked at you now, your hair slightly damp and your eyes shining like the moon that illuminated onto them so beautifully. He looked at you now and felt his heart sing with joy.

He remembered all those times he wanted to take your pain away. Those times when he would rather have your tears be his own. He almost wanted to curse himself for only being able to be with you, that the only thing he could do to ease the pain was to stand beside you.

He looked at you now and continued to watch you walk— grow.

Yet again, always beside him. And he felt happy.

His heart ached and soared at the same time. Just the mere thought of you sending shivers down his spine, his young mind was racing with these new feelings he didn't understand.

"It was an eventful day today," he said, trying his best at conversation.

"It was," you said back, your face turning to look at him and— your smile.

You're so beautiful.

The sparkle in your eyes, the pink of your cheeks, the curves of your lips, everything, everything was so beautiful.

And then, your smile softened, and soon vanished into a small frown.

He was distraught.

"Do you know," you trailed off slightly, your eyes dropping down onto the ground as you kept walking, "why I was drowning that day?"

"You didn't seem to want to talk about it," Ushijima said carefully.

You chuckled a bit, playing awkwardly with your hands.

"It wasn't anything serious." You continued, "Actually, it was kinda stupid, ya know?"

He nodded to you, still listening.

"Maybe..." you drifted off once more, "maybe that's why I was so scared to tell you, cause, I thought that you would think that I was really lame."

"I would never think that," he replied bluntly.

"Yeah," you looked at him again, a fragment of your smile coming back to your face. "I know."

He was still looking at you expectantly, though not inclined to ask you outright, he couldn't deny that he was curious.

"It was during swimming classes that my favorite necklace broke and fell into the pool." you laughed at yourself, cheeks heating up slightly.

"And so you decided to go back after school to try and get it out?" he asked, which only made you feel even dumber.

"Yeah..." you said, before huffing and replying, "but it was my favorite necklace, okay?!"

"Okay," he replied, looking at you.

You stopped in your tracks and stared at him dumbly.

"Y-You're not gonna call me dumb?" you said.

"No," he said. "Do you want me to?"

"No!" you coughed. "I mean, no."

"Okay then," he replied once more before walking again.

"I just thought—" you sighed. "I thought you would laugh at me."

He looked at you. You were frowning with your eyes focused down onto your shoes, the smile he loved nowhere to be seen. You had just won a competition, why were you so gloomy all of a sudden?

"We all did foolish things when we were younger," he tried his best to cheer you up, to have you smiling again. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

You perked up at him slightly. Almost there.

"What kind of necklace was it?" Please give me your smile again.

"It was silver, with a little feather pendant attached to it," you said, your small smile growing ever so lightly. Just a little more.

"I see," he said, watching you intently. Waiting for your smile to grace him with its presence once more, please let me make you smile.

He stopped dead in his tracks, causing you to do the same. Turning his body towards yours, he looked at your confused face. Your face looked so pretty under the street lamp, the dull lighting draping over your features so casually. But he knew that your smile could outshine the lamp tenfold. So please, just smile, be happy.

He brought his index fingers to the corners of his mouth, stretching them up and forming a wide makeshift smile.

You're so beautiful when you're happy.

You started laughing, and his heart was overjoyed.

He hoped you could hear him, hear his heart beating— singing for you.

And so as you laughed at him, the smile he loved so much making its way back to your face, he promised to do everything he could to make it stay.

All your struggles, all your pain, he would carry them for you. Because that's what you do; when you love someone.

scene seven; i need somebody

You smiled brightly at the slightly flustered Ushijima, his fingers that were once on the corners of his mouth now falling back down to his sides. You watched him look at you, and the frown that you had earlier made its way back to your face.

You wanted to prepare yourself— prepare him for what you had to say. No matter how much you thought about it, you couldn't find the right words and rambled instead. But even in your struggles and indecisiveness, you had to tell him.

"Toshi," you started. Feeling the lump in your throat as you stared into his olive eyes. You eventually turned and looked away. "Where are you going for junior high?"

A simple, evasive question, it was all you could muster.

He seemed to have thought nothing of it, "Shi—" but that was until he stopped, and stumbled. But even with his momentary uncertainty and falter, he still looked at you.

"Shiratorizawa," he finally said to you.

"Shiratorizawa?"

Your face dropped as the sudden realization dawned upon you, and Ushijima had no choice but to watch silently. You had expected it— knew that this was how it was going to happen, yet the true reality of the situation had only hit you now. After all the desire for improvement and strength had calmed down, all that was left was you and him, standing in front of each other in a dimply lit alley, cursed with the impending fate of a goodbye.

Your soft eyes started to fill with unknowing tears, gazing back into his with a look of hurt and melancholy. It pained him, to see the person he cared so much about, shrink back into the weak, vulnerable girl he had met all those years ago.

But you could still visit each other, he thought. Your houses were still close. Nothing needed to change, right?

"Oh," you said. "My family and I are moving to Australia."

"Oh," he said back. "I see."

"Yeah..." you fiddled with your fingers, the lights above you flickering.

You thought that it was over, it was done. There was nothing else that was needed to be said. And so you turned and walked away, even when you didn't want to.

You wanted to turn around and hug him, tell him that you didn't want to go. Cry into his arms and listen to him. Listen to how his heart was beating too fast, listen to him breathing unsteadily. Listen to him as he would mutter a weak invitation to his graduation ceremony, that he wanted you to stay, with him.

But none of it came, there was no invitation, there were no hugs, and no turning back.

You wanted to stop and— just stop and not go, to stay. But you didn't.

And he didn't stop you.

Ushijima spiked the ball hard into the other side of the court. Feeling all the adrenaline rush in with the unwelcome resurgence of memories fogging his mind into an intense haze.

He suddenly remembered the way your eyes shined in the moonlight that very night. The way your face glowed and your hair cascaded down your shoulders, he remembered you, and your smile.

Why did it have to be now that he would remember you, yearn for you, after all these years of painful acceptance? Why did it have to be now that he would be overwhelmed by the questions of what if?

He couldn't explain it. The thought that was being pushed through the forefront of his mind, the light buzzing and banging. Like something was screaming at him to do something, and getting louder and louder.

He looked across the crowd, the opposing team having called for a timeout. He looked across the cheer squad and large drums. The banging ringing in his ears louder than ever, maybe he was just going crazy?

But with the sinking feeling that he was getting closer to something, he let the moment of insanity slide for now. He kept looking, scanning every face that came into view. That maybe there was something— someone he needed to see.

And then he saw you. Your eyes shining, face glowing, hair cascading down your shoulders, everything. He saw you, and you saw him. Your mouth coming up and forming that smile he loved so much. You always smiled at him so perfectly, but more than that, you were here, cheering for him.

He ignored the strange looks his coaches and teammates were giving him. He was aware that they probably thought he was going through it, because maybe he was. He just couldn't believe it. You were right there.

He then heard the familiar whistle blow across the gym. And he was momentarily knocked out of his daze. He sent you one last look, and ignored all his questions, when, why, and how you were here was something he could deal with at another time. Because when he finally stepped back onto the court, he was stepping in for you.

For all the moments you had, and all the moments you didn't. For all the words that had been said and the words that could have. He stepped in for you, for the girl that stole his heart all those years ago. He stepped in for the two of you and what could have been.

scene eight; all alone

The gymnasium fell silent as the game came to its end. The court divided with mixed emotions of celebration and loss. Ushijima looked at you from the crowd, smiling reassuringly at him. He felt relieved.

Leaving the gym, Ushijima headed back to where he placed his gym bag. Jogging idly towards it, he picked it up and slung it over his shoulder.

He sat down inside the bus, utterly exhausted. The match had taken its toll on every player, and Ushijima was no exception to its physical and mental turmoil. He let out a prompt sigh.

The bus was surprisingly quiet, given that Tendou was inside, but he guessed even an eccentric like him had his limits, and he couldn't fault him for that. He instead took this moment of tranquility to organize his feelings.

He saw you again. After almost three years of distance, you were finally back.

He unzipped his gym bag and found his hands enclosing around a box. He took it out and examined it like he had many times before. Carefully opening it, he stared as the light from outside shined onto the silver of the necklace, from the clasp to the feather pendant that hung upon it. It was still in perfect shape, from all the times Ushijima dreamed of giving it to you one day. And that chance had finally come, three years later.

He let his mind wander to the moments he wanted to share with you, the words he wanted to say. He wondered what it was like for you all these years if you were happy and experienced precious memories just like he did. There was so much he wanted to know, wanted to ask.

So much he wanted to make up for.

He sighed and leaned back into his seat. You didn't even notify him that you were coming back, it was all so sudden. Were you going to attend high school in Japan? Which school?

He was going to graduate soon, just like three years ago. The term was almost over, and the school was already accepting new students. There was a possibility, but one he was reluctant in letting himself believe in or more or less hope for. He wondered if he was just getting his hopes up.

He wondered about all the options, all the possibilities. Did you just come back to watch that one game? Did he already miss his shot as soon as he got the chance?

He massaged his forehead briskly and decided to sleep on it. He was too tired to think too deeply about anything at the moment. If he really wanted to know, he would just have to find you and ask you himself. And maybe then he would be able to tell you he was in love with you.

And find out that you were in love with him too.

scene nine; you were beautiful

Ushijima walked through the crowd of people occupying the hallway. It was louder than usual, the students already making plans for summer break with the term almost at its end.

He was on his way to practice, but that was until a figure started walking by his side. He first paid no mind to it and kept walking, only sneaking a glance and seeing— you.

He stopped.

"Hey," you said to him, smiling. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," was all he could say.

"It was a good game," you said. "Yesterday."

"We lost."

"Yeah."

There was a long pause.

"I'm a student here now," you said, looking at him. "Though I came in pretty late."

"Yeah," he replied as you kept walking.

"How have you been these past few years?"

"Playing volleyball," he replied promptly.

"I see," you replied.

The tension was killing him. His eyes focused in front of him and refusing to look towards you. He couldn't look at you.

Maybe it was just all the years catching up to him, or the sight of you after so long messing with his brain. He couldn't know. All the memories that flooded him, the feelings that overwhelmed him, it was too much for even him to handle. He couldn't take it.

Back when the dimly lit light flickered above the both of you on that narrow alleyway, the moon high above in the night sky.

You were so beautiful.

Your eyes that looked at him, your voice that called out to him, your smile that was always directed towards him. Everything, everything about you was everything to him.

He looked at you finally.

"Why did you leave?" he asked you. The one question that had been eating at him all this time for the past three years.

All this time of yearning for you to come back, and now that you were finally here, eyes the same color, hair slightly shorter, smile just as bright as it always was. He wanted so many things, but nothing more at the same time. He didn't want anything else but for you to stay in his presence, beside him like how it was always supposed to be. He didn't want anything more.

All his ambitions and questions could be left unrewarded and unanswered. He just wanted back the moments only you could give him. Everything that passed, everything that was missed, he wanted it more than anything. He clenched his fist inside his uniform pocket tightly.

"My mom got a new job," you said. "I'm sorry I never fully explained."

"It's okay."

He started walking again, and so did you.

"Would you like to attend my graduation ceremony?" he asked you.

"I'd love to," you replied, looking forward.

He didn't cry when you walked away. Back then, when everything so simple suddenly became complicated.

Back when the tears he saw leave your eyes were turned into anger in his refusal to believe that you had parted on such sad terms. He thought that maybe it would be easier to move on when his last memory of you looked at him in anger. That maybe, he could erase the tears from his mind and have you hate him instead. He realized that it was all just sad foolishness.

He remembered— accepted the fact that what happened was nobody's fault. That both your hearts had shattered, and it was no one's fault.

You were both making your way closer to the end of the hallway, the crowds of people disappearing slightly, the space feeling less cramped. He could feel you looking at him, your eyes focused on his profile. This was a normal thing between the two of you, but three years had passed, and he had no idea how much he had missed these simple habits.

He missed all the moments that seemed mundane to him back then, when you would walk beside him, look at him, play volleyball with him, no matter how bad you were. He missed all of it, he missed—.

"I missed you," you said.

He looked at you and paused.

"Thank you," he said back.

You smiled.

It was these mundane moments that made you so beautiful. Back then, even when the tears stained your face, you still looked beautiful. When your eyes, for what he thought was the last time, looked at him. When your voice spoke out to him, back then, when no matter how hard he tried, you still seemed to slowly become a movie of the past. No matter the moment, no matter the circumstance, you looked so beautiful.

But it was these mundane moments that made him fall in love with you even more.

He clutched the necklace in his pocket even tighter.

Both of you finally stopped at the end of the long corridor. Both of you on your way to do club work, but in the opposite direction. You both wanted to laugh, it all seemed like some kind of fate, but even then, you decided to smile it away.

He brought out his hand from his pocket, still holding the silver necklace. He hesitated, but looked at you anyway.

He reached his hand out to you, the chain hanging from his fingers. You took one look at it, then looked into his eyes. The eyes you could read so well, looked at you like he wanted to convey so much but nothing else at the same time.

You hugged him. You hugged him tightly. His hands wrapped around you gently. Enclosing you into his personal bubble, for all the people left in the hallway to see.

"Thank you," was all you decided to say.

"I missed you," he said. And it was all he needed to say back.

You parted from him, your hand carefully taking the necklace from his, the light from the window beside the two of you shining on it, making it sparkle.

He started walking the other way, and so did you. But he stopped and turned around, and so did you.

He looked at your eyes, the smallest shine playing on his own.

"Don't let it break this time," he said.

And you smiled once again.

"I won't," you said.

scene ten; i loved you

The hall was loud and happy, filled with celebration and melancholy as the students of Ushijima's batch graduated, some parting ways and some making plans to stay.

He looked at the audience that clapped for them and saw you. A small smile played on his lips as a bright one was proudly displayed on your own.

He looked around him and at his teammates, proud that they had come this far together, smiles on their faces like everyone else.

After thanking each of them one by one, he looked back at you, who smiled and flicked your head towards the exit. He nodded and started following you, leaving the graduation hall.

"Where exactly are we going?" he asked.

"You'll see," you showed him your smile, and he couldn't refuse you.

You grabbed his hand as you started walking faster along the endless hallway, and soon enough, you were both standing in front of the indoor swimming pool. You both made your way inside and turned on the lights.

"One day, I'm gonna become the captain," you said as you crossed your arms proudly. Ushijima nodded seriously.

"I'm sure you can," he said, and you smiled at him.

You took his hand and dragged him towards the edge of the pool, eliciting a confused look on Ushijima's face.

"Can I be a tad bit cheesy?" you asked, looking into his eyes. Your back was facing the pool as you stood on the edge, Ushijima standing in front of you.

"What do you mean?" he asked, but your arms already made their way around his neck.

You smiled at him cheekily and leaned back into the pool, causing both of you to crash into it. Your bodies started sinking into the pool, Ushijima's eyes slightly wider from shock while you continued to look at him from underwater.

Your heads eventually shot out of the water, clothes wet and hair damp. You started laughing.

"I've always wanted to do that!" you laughed louder as you looked at Ushijima's dumbfounded face. He clearly was not expecting what just happened.

Seeing him so unusually expressive made you want to tease him even more, like the Toshi you knew from all those years back.

You swiftly ran your hand across the surface of the water, splashing him in the face as you giggled even more. Toshi looked at you in slight shock, yet a small smile played underneath his stoic features. He brought his hand up and splashed water right back at you, making you squeal and swim backward, laughing.

You didn't know how much time had passed with you splashing water at each other, how long you two had lapped around the pool trying to catch each other, laughing, and enjoying each other's presence.

You looked at him, who had a rare smile on his face, and realized just how much you yearned for this moment. His eyes that stared back into you, and your heartbeat that started beating faster than before, you realized just how much the memories with him meant to you. You used to be content with looking back at the memories you had created all those years ago, but now it was different. Both of you were different.

It wasn't enough anymore to reminisce about past memories. You wanted, needed to make more, with him.

Even with the thought that he would once again be swept away by the many opportunities that awaited him, but even then, you still felt happy. He was on his way to accomplishing so many great things that you couldn't help but look at him, his hair wet and uniform ruined, yet he still looked happy, with you in this moment.

You started swimming towards him, eyes never once leaving his. The water around you flowing against your body softly as it almost pushed you towards him. You giggled as you got closer.

You were now in front of him, hands on his shoulders and eyes staring in his. You smiled softly at him.

"Take a deep breath," you said, and before he knew it, your hands covered his ears as you pushed both of your heads underwater.

The water engulfed the two of you as it's serene hum blinded your senses. You looked into his eyes that stared back at you, and his hands that made its way to cover your own ears.

It was like you were back in the ocean with him when you were still children, but it was also so different.

You were both grown now, with feelings that had developed over time, or maybe they were always there.

You stared into his eyes as he did the same, lips inching closer and closer. You smiled brightly at him one last time before you kissed him gently. You pulled away and rested your forehead against his until Toshi brought his face closer and pecked your lips again.

You had no idea how long the both of you had held your breaths underwater, but you had no plans to find out. With your lips moving softly against one another, and your bodies held in a tranquil state under the swimming pool water, you couldn't care less.

The two of you in each other's arms, hands covering ears, and hearts falling deeper in love.

Just the two of you, in that moment, with no other forces pulling you apart.

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

Change of Plans

→ summary: So how did you and Seokjin meet? Now that the two of you are engaged, you’re ready to tell your friends the night you were supposed to get laid but didn’t. And it’s all your fiancé’s fault.

→ pairing/rating: seokjin x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 80% crack, 20% fluff | college!au & est. relationship!au

→ warnings: profanity, mentions of hooking up, crude humor, tinder lmao

→ wordcount: 2.5k

→ a/n: guys when i was editing this i laughed at my own fucking jokes ohmygod 🤡🤡

cr.

"So," Jungkook snorts, swinging his arm around Seokjin's shoulder as he looks at the happy couple curiously. "You're getting married."

"Hell, yes!" you say, pumping your fist. "Look at my ring."

Everyone around you groans.

"Y/N, we looked at your ring so many times, I think if someone told me to resculpt it blindfolded, I could," Yoongi sighs. He half annoyedly half defeatedly grabs a can of beer and downs it.

"Shut up, Yoongi," Daehyung says. "Y/N, your ring is beautiful," she gushes. "Yoongi's just jealous because he's single."

"It's beautiful because I helped Seokjin pick it out," Yoongi argues. "Even though I'm single, I have excellent taste."

"You also have a cocky attitude," you giggle, admiring how the sparkling ring fits perfectly around your ring finger. "But thank you. I appreciate the advice you gave my fiancé."

"Can you believe a year ago, I didn't even know your name?" Seokjin laughs, nudging you. Giving him an ungrateful glare, you push him back.

"Wait, really?" Jungkook says, eyes wide. "I thought you guys were college besties."

"No, they met on a hookup app," Daehyung giggles.

"Seriously??" Yoongi says.

"It wasn't exactly a hookup app," you pout. "We didn't even hookup."

"It was too a hookup app," Daehyung says. "Tinder, to be exact."

Everyone except you and Seokjin gasps dramatically.

"Come to think of it," Yoongi says, "you two never told us how you met."

"Yeah, and if we tell you, you're going to embarrass the shit out of me and my future wife when you give the best man speech at the wedding," Seokjin frowns. "I'm not setting myself up for humiliation."

"I promise I'll keep it a secret!"

"Hey, I thought I was the best man!" Jungkook yells.

"You can be the flower girl," you snort.

"What?!" the young bachelor shrieks.

"Can everybody shut the fuck up so I can hear this story again?" Daehyung yells at the top of her lungs.

"Again??" Seokjin says curiously. "When did you hear it the first time?"

"Oh, Y/N was drunk," Daehyung giggles. "When she's drunk, she spills straight up tea."

"Oops," you say when your fiancé gives you a dirty look. "Why do we have to keep it a secret, anyway?"

"Because it's embarrassing."

"Yeah, embarrassing for you. I sound like a hero."

"Y/N saves the day?" Yoongi grins. "And Seokjin wrecks something? What's new?"

"I'm this close to making you the flower girl," the engaged man threatens.

Yoongi shuts up.

"Oh, come on, babe, let's tell them the story," you plead. "It's so funny!"

"Yeah, for you."

"Learn to laugh at yourself, Seokjin," Daehyung chastises. "Plus it wasn't even that humiliating."

"God!" Jin shrieks. "Yes it was humiliating!"

"Shut up, you big baby," you say, patting the head of your soon-to-be-husband. "I'll take the floor now."

"Oh, god," Jin groans.

You grin in response. "Okay, it all started senior year of college... Monday... November 14th, 8:02 p.m..."

"It did not start then," Seokjin argues.

"Stop being so petty," Jungkook snorts.

"Wait, no Jin's right. It didn't start then," you giggle apologetically. Seokjin facepalms. "It started a week and a few days before November 14th."

"Does the date really matter?" Yoongi groans.

"Yes," you, Seokjin, Jungkook and Daehyung chorus.

Yoongi shuts up—for the second time that day.

"Okay, where was I?" you mumble. "Oh, right! It all started..."

Tinder is an annoying bitch.

It keeps pairing you up with dudes you know in your class. You are not going to have a one night stand with a guy and be stuck in a group project with him the next day. You're going to avoid that awkward possibility for as much as you can.

You've used the "dating" app off and on in your college years, but it's never amounted to anything more than craptastic hookups and hectic morning afters. So you deleted it.

Until early November when you had to third wheel Daehyung and her boyfriend to a local fair. You were so bored and desperate that you re-downloaded Tinder and started swiping. There are way too many hot guys on one app. It makes you start to wonder where all the hot guys in your school are.

There are a few guys who match with you, but it's clear that they are massive dodo brains when they start off the conversation with a one-worded 'hi' or 'send nudes plz' or the worst: 'your beautiful.' With the wrong 'your' and all. You don't even answer them.

But one guy's messages catch your eyes.

[SEOKJIN]: Roses are red

[SEOKJIN]: Let's test my luck

[SEOKJIN]: We should get in bed

[SEOKJIN]: So we can—

The unfinished poem leaves you almost choking on your own spit. If that wasn't creative, you don't know what is. After background checking his profile, you realize he's one of those hotties. You wonder what on earth he's doing texting you, but you're not going to miss this amazing chance.

[Y/N]: Fuck?

Seokjin replies about three seconds later.

[SEOKJIN]: Oh no that's so vulgar

[SEOKJIN]: I was going to say cuddle :((

You giggle. Sort of a low-grade joke, but what can you say? You're a complete sucker for those.

It's hard to find men these days who are perfect texters. Most men are dry, sending in one-word answers and letting emojis talk for them. Other men write way too much. Seokjin is right in the middle. Already, he has your attention. (Especially because you like his humor.)

The two of you text back and forth until you're back home in your bed. You would've texted him more but it was 3:04 a.m. and you had class the next day.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when Seokjin, a complete stranger, mind you, tells you, 'goodnight. sweet dreams.'

What follows is a week's worth of texting. You've been swiping and texting other guys on the side, but if Seokjin's available, you ditch everyone else.

You learn that Jin's a history major and he despises STEM with all of his guts. You let him go on a ten-minute rant on why math should die all because it's adorable how he has so much supporting evidence for his argument. Seokjin had to backtrack and apologize when he learned that you majored in physics, though, which was hilarious. You could feel him blushing via text.

The more you text Seokjin, the more you want to meet him in person. Also, his Tinder bio promises mind-blowing sex, so you're down for that too.

On a fateful day, you finally somehow schedule a meeting with the hot man. Monday, November 14th at 8 p.m. You're to meet at Seokjin's little apartment (which seemed to be in a safe neighborhood). You have fun picking your lingerie with Daehyung. (You kept saying Seokjin would be the type to like pink and lace, but Daehyung argued that he'd like scarlet red and leather. But you kicked her out of your room and chose the pink lace lingerie set anyway.)

It was an understatement to say you were excited about this. You were elated, insanely thrilled. Not only did you find a hookup partner, but also you found a man you could potentially see yourself dating.

Daehyung keeps telling you not to get your hopes too high because in her words, "You've never even met the goddamn dude." But you know a gem when you see one. Unlike Daehyung. She's been off and on with about four different guys since the beginning of college. What does she know about love??

In the end, you want to be more than hookup material to Seokjin. But of course, that would be after you get laid tonight. The flirty wink faces and jokes were indicative that tonight would be a very, very enjoyable night. You just have to get to his apartment on time.

At precisely 8:02 p.m., you knock on his door. Okay, you were going to knock on his door when you originally got there (at 7:56 p.m.), but after consulting Daehyung, she said that it's better to make men wait. For once, her advice kind of makes sense. So you wait six minutes and then knock on his door.

"Oh shit!" you hear from the apartment.

You raise your eyebrows. He was expecting you, right?

"Just a second!!"

His voice is much smoother and more delicate than you thought.

You're dreaming about finally seeing his beautiful face in person when the door opens. Damn. He's really, really hot. You feel on fire just looking at him. But you quickly see that the man is panting. He's also sweating.

"O-Oh, is this a bad time?"

"Fuck," Seokjin curses. He runs his finger through his silky black hair. "Uh..." He trails off, eyes darting below to see just a sliver of your pink lace lingerie set peeking out from under your black coat. He gulps. You can see his Adam's apple bob. He exudes this warm, chaotic energy you wouldn't have expected from someone who looks so well-put-together as him. But you kind of find that hot.

"Okay, change of plans," Seokjin finally gasps out. He tugs you in his apartment and holds out a good stack of papers. "College happened."

You laugh. "What??"

"Okay, remember when I told you I fucking hate math?"

"Yes??" The ten-minute rant—how could you forget something so iconic?

"Well, I made a huge mistake of taking accounting this year and now I'm behind on five assignments that are all due tomorrow—"

"Oh god."

"Don't worry. I'm going to get it all done. So we can uh..." Seokjin glances at your scandalous outfit behind the confines of your coat. "Finish the rest of my poem."

"In that case..." You roll up your long sleeves. "Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow?"

"Y-Yeah," Seokjin says. He dashes away and after a split second, he comes back with a navy, oversized t-shirt. "Here."

"Thank you!" you chirp. "Now," you say, tying your hair up in a messy bun and gesturing toward the heap of paper Seokjin is holding, "I took accounting two years ago, but I'm sure I remember all the essential stuff. Wanna get to work?"

Seokjin looks at you like you're an angel.

"Shut up!" Jungkook laughs so hard he almost falls over. "You're telling me that you were going to get laid, but you got cockblocked by Seokjin's procrastination??"

"Yes! I know!" you snort. "But it's a good thing I can actually do math. Unlike Mr. I-hate-math-so-much-I-barely-do-my-homework, here."

"In my defense..." Seokjin trails off. "I don't have an excuse, actually."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Did you finish the assignments, though?"

"Why are you guys asking the irrelevant questions?" Daehyung sighs. "Shouldn't you guys ask if Y/N got laid like she was supposed to??"

Seokjin grumbles. "We finished the assignments in three hours."

"We??" you say incredulously.

"Okay, fine. Y/N did more than half of it because I had no idea what was going on."

"And I did get laid!" You pump a victorious fist in the air. "But it was really late and I fell asleep before we even got to the good part."

"So she got properly laid in the morning," Seokjin snickers. "And it was so good she left after having breakfast."

"I think I fell for him because he can cook so well," you laugh. "And he felt extra bad about the night before so he made a three-course breakfast meal."

"Oh my god, men who finesse in the kitchen," Daehyung gushes. "Why haven't I caught a case like that yet?"

"Your personality is your birth control, bro," Jungkook snorts. "I thought you knew."

"I will shove a pregnancy test up your fucking ass," Daehyung threatens.

"How do you know I won't like how that feels?"

"SHUT UP!" Yoongi screams. "DON'T PAINT THAT PICTURE IN MY HEAD."

You and Seokjin give each other another look. Ever since you introduced Daehyung to Seokjin's two best friends, it's been... uh, chaotic. At this point, you're not sure if your friends argue out of pure love or pure hatred.

But the fact that Jungkook uses the same flirting tactics of a pre-teen boy explains a lot about his relationship with Daehyung.

"At this rate, do you even want these people at the wedding?" Seokjin whispers jokingly.

"I heard that!" Daehyung shrieks. "I will be at the wedding whether you want it or not!"

"Don't worry," you laugh. "You're going to be my maid of honor!"

"Whew," Daehyung sighs. "Since I'm your maid of honor can I uninvite Jeon Jungkook for being an asshole?"

"Hey!"

"No, we're putting you two in the same table at the afterparty dinner," Seokjin grins. "And Yoongi, you'll be there to witness the madness."

"Lovely," the sarcastic man gripes.

"Exactly!" you say.

But it is lovely indeed.

You never thought your ability to zoom past accounting assignments would ever come to use. Until Seokjin opened up a whole new door for you. Sure, you wanted a plain ol' hookup, but instead of getting dick, you got yourself a boyfriend. And now a fiancé.

If you think about it, now you have an endless supply of dick—all from the same, magnificent man. So it all worked out in the end.

Before all of your friends leave after the friendly gathering, you tug Yoongi to the side and pay him a hundred bucks to retell the hilarious story in his best man speech. Once money is involved, Yoongi will do anything.

Sure enough, on the faithful day of the wedding, and quite to Seokjin's horror, Yoongi tells the story of how you and Seokjin had first met—leaving out explicit details to save the ears of the older guests. But the story leaves everyone in tears of laughter.

Seokjin is so enamored by the attention that he doesn't even get angry at Yoongi.

"I'm glad I took that stupid accounting class!" he announces at the afterparty. "If it hadn't been for Professor Le Chory and his endless assignments, I would've never met my wife!"

And when the party's over and the two of you go off to your shared apartment to rest before going on your honeymoon trip to Yeousu, Seokjin clears his throat.

"Yes??" you say, giggling as Seokjin shyly fidgets with his hands. "Did you break something again?"

"No!" he says. "I just thought of another poem."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Wanna hear it?"

"Sure. But if this keeps up, you'll become a poet, Jin."

"I know," your husband grins. He takes a deep breath and recites the poem from memory, closing his eyes as he concentrates on each word.

Roses are red,

You are now my wife,

We should sleep in bed,

So tomorrow, and until forever, I'll show you the time of your life.

With Seokjin, life is spontaneous. But you don't really mind. Living in the moment and changing your plans as they go isn't too bad.

Especially when you wake up the next morning and Seokjin announces instead of Yeousu, the two of you will embark on a journey to Jeju instead.

Perfect. You've always wanted to visit Jeju Island.

masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #seokjin #jin #kim seokjin #jin imagine #jin fanfic #jin fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #this fic is short #but i couldn't waste the idea #everybody needs a spontaneous seokjin in their lives #if seokjin asked me to do his math hw i would do it GLADLY #change of plans

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mldrgrl · 5 years

Text

Last First Kiss

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: This is for all the Ed Jerse Anons sitting in my inbox who all want a variation on the theme of Scully not being satisfied that Ed would be the last man she was with.

The appointments were on the calendar for the third Thursday on the month for six months, not a secret, but they were simply marked “Scully - doctor,” like they were run of the mill check-ups and not aggressive chemotherapy. Every third Friday was marked “Scully - out of office.”

Mulder did his best not to be too solicitous, wished her well when she packed up her things before lunch, made lame jokes about how much he’d get done without her ripping apart his theories for a day. He didn’t know how she spent her weekends after those appointments, she could be intensely private about certain aspects of herself, her health being one of them, but it was obvious from the paleness of her cheeks, the shadows under her eyes, and the constant tremor her body seemed to have come Monday, that she suffered.

He wished she wouldn’t push herself so hard, but then again, she was a fighter. He had to admit he was a bit in awe of her determination not to let such a grim diagnosis stop her from doing anything. It had certainly stopped him. Though she didn’t know it, his free time was mostly devoted to finding answers. He didn’t care who he had to go through to find the men who gave her this disease. If they knew how to give it to her, they knew how to take it back.

As the months went by though, the nosebleeds only got worse and at a certain point, she’d even stopped demanding that he not look at her when she did her best to clean herself up or given him dirty, ungrateful glares when he brought out the packet of tissues he’d started carrying around in his breast pocket and slipped them into her hand. She’d stopped locking the connecting doors of their motel rooms or trying to disguise the sound of her retching in the middle of the night by running the sink at full blast. The last two times, she’d even let him kneel beside her and dab her cheeks and the back of her neck with a cool washcloth as she limply clung to the side of the toilet.

If he wasn’t scared before, he was now. He could persevere as long as she was, but the moment she looked up at him with a tired, resigned gaze that told him he was finally allowed to see her like this because it didn’t matter anymore, he knew she had given up. And now, he was desperate for those answers.

Appointment number five loomed like a thundercloud. Mulder was tense all week and Scully was quiet. Time moved like molasses Thursday morning. He tried to focus on the expense report for their last case, but his mind kept wandering to ways he might offer his services to help her through the weekend. Even with the minutes dragging by, suddenly she was shutting her computer down and he hadn’t come up with anything better than, “if you need anything, you know you can call me.”

Scully left with a murmured “see you Monday,” and he chickened out on saying anything more than a soft goodbye. He bit his lip and as soon as he heard the elevator ding and the doors close, he choked on a quiet sob he’d been reigning in. As quickly as he let his emotions overtake him, he pulled himself back together and pounded a fist against the top of his desk. Scully was out there bravely fighting a losing battle alone and he wasn’t helping her by crying at his desk. It was time for his check-in with the Gunmen, who were following up on leads in his stead.

But, the boys had nothing for him. Nothing new, anyway. Mulder cursed. He was pretty sure his best bet was the black-lunged sonofabitch that seemed to pull all the strings from every direction and he’d been trying to lure the old man out of hiding for weeks to no avail. There had to be something he could do.

He stayed at the office well into the evening, poring over his files for some connection he might have missed. There was so much there and yet nothing at all. He was just digging deeper rabbit holes with every file. He finally went home when he felt like his vision was becoming too blurry to ready anything further, but he was back at it again before the sun even came up. Strewn across his desk and the floor was Scully’s abduction file, the files on Max Fenig, Duane Barry, the women in Allentown, the personnel file he’d poached on Alex Krycek, and others bearing the slightest hint of alien activity.

Halfway through the day, it dawned on him that maybe he should change his tactic. He wasn’t a religious man, but Scully was a religious woman, and there were examples of miraculous recoveries all over the world. He gathered up the mess he’d made and made another printing out reams of research on holy sites and unexplained recoveries from illnesses. Amongst them all, he found one that appealed. In fact, it excited him so much that he found himself grabbing he jacket and driving to Scully’s apartment with a hopeful flutter in his chest.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking though, knocking on her door that Friday evening. He hadn’t even gotten a good look at her before he was asking her if she’d ever heard about the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes. She answered his knock in a pair of snow-white flannel pajamas that were rolled up at the sleeves and ankles. Her face was almost as white as her sleepwear, aside from the hollow grey smudges under her eyes. Her eyes themselves were so thoroughly bloodshot it looked like it might be painful just to keep them open.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, taking her in. “I didn’t mean to...to…”

She blinked slowly at him, like a sleepwalker still in a dream. “Our Lady of Lourdes,” she repeated in a quiet slur. “In France.”

“Yeah. Yes, France.”

“What about it?”

“Um…”

“Sorry, I need to sit down.”

“Don’t apologize,” he answered, following her to the couch.

He glanced around. There was a blanket waterfalling off the couch, crumbled tissues scattered across the coffee table, and a basin strategically placed on the floor beside the couch, just below the spot where the impression of her head still lingered on a pillow. Scully pushed the blanket out of the way and folded herself up like a sheet of origami into the empty corner of the couch.

“I should go,” he said.

“Are you going to tell me the story of Saint Bernadette?” she mumbled.

“You know it?”

“Of course I know it, Mulder.”

“Oh.”

“You can tell it to me anyway. I like your stories.”

“You do?”

“Sit down.”

Tentatively, Mulder took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. He surreptitiously slid the basin away from his feet and picked up a closed photo album that was wedged beneath the back cushion.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Photo album.”

“Well, yeah. Are they of you?”

She nodded.

“May I?”

She nodded again. He opened the book and on the first page was a black and white mugshot of a swaddled newborn with a pinched face. Next to it was the classic, naked baby on a bearskin rug photo that every parent seemed to think was necessary. He had one of his own somewhere. He chuckled to himself.

The next pages were a hodgepodge of Scully family photos. There was a pensive looking toddler Scully on the lap of her smiling sister, both with loose red curls and matching baby blue dresses. There was all four Scully children, the boys in sailor suits, the girls in navy blue pinafore dresses standing in front of a docked ship. There was Scully blowing out eight candles on a birthday cake. There was a professional photo of Scully from the waist up in a white lace dress and a white veil, looking upwards with gloved hands clasped in prayer.

He turned to a page of school photos, all eerily similar, the progression of time marked only by the changes in Scully’s face and the length of hair, but the constant being the dark blazer and plaid skirt of a Catholic schoolgirl. She only smiled in one, which he guessed to be about third grade, the rest a study in concentrated seriousness.

And then there was a photo that made him stop and bring the album closer to his face. “Scully,” he said, squinting. “Was your mom a triplet?”

“No,” she said, with a quiet laugh. “She was the middle of three girls. All a year apart.”

“I mean, they look...identical.” And they really did. He saw three Margaret’s in a line with their arms around each other, same dark curls, same shape of the jaw and brow, same red lipstick, even.

“The one on the right is Aunt Kate, the one on the left is Mary Pat.”

“Kate. Katherine? Is that where your middle name cames from?”

“Nope. Mary Kate, Mary Margaret, Mary Pat. Only Aunt Mary Pat uses the Mary.”

“Wait, so your mom and her sisters are all named Mary?”

“Technically, sort of.”

“What was your grandmother’s name? Mary Magdalene?”

“Angela.”

“Oh.”

“Mary Angela.”

Mulder chuckled.

There were a few more pages of family photos and then they changed into pictures of places and people who he assumed were friends from high school or college. There was a photo of Scully with long wavy hair holding a sleeping baby as a priest touched its little bald head.

“Your godson?” he asked.

“Mmhm.”

He flipped a few more pages. There was photos of a cabin in the snow, of Scully in cold weather gear holding a string of fish, of a silver Volkswagen Rabbit, and a slew of photos of a beach and a lighthouse.

“Where’s this?” he asked.

“Point Loma. It was one of my favorite places as a kid.”

“And who is this?” He turned the photo on the next page towards Scully, of her pressed cheek to cheek with a fair-haired man with freckles across his nose and forehead.

“His name is Ethan.” She sat up a little reached out to touch the photo with her fingertips for a few moments and then she curled back into the corner and made a small noise in the back of her throat.

“What?”

“Ethan was the last relationship I was in.”

“Oh.”

“It didn’t last long. Three months, I think. I don’t know, it just occurred to me that...I guess I always thought I’d have more time to…”

“To what?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Nothing. Ethan will have been the last man to love me, even for a short time.”

A protest formed on Mulder’s tongue, but he held it back and looked at the picture of Scully and her ex-boyfriend again. Maybe if things had worked out with this Ethan character, they never would’ve even met. Or with that other guy, that Jack Willis guy from that case a few years ago. Maybe if it had worked out between them, she wouldn’t be here now, though he can’t imagine Scully and Jack as having ever been very good together. He really didn’t want to think about it, either.

“And Ed Jerse,” she said.

Mulder snapped to attention at the mention of that name and looked over at her. “What about Ed Jerse?”

“Ed will be my last first kiss.” She snorted softly and closed her eyes, brows knitting together slightly. He took a glance at her mouth, at the dry, cracked lips that bastard had been lucky enough to touch. It made him sad and angry.

“You do have time, Scully,” he said, emphatically.

“No, I don’t, Mulder.”

“Yes, you-”

“I don’t.” She opened her eyes and leveled her gaze at him. “Mulder, I’m dying. You know it as well as I do, you just don’t want to face the truth.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’m not getting better, I’m getting worse. The tumor hasn’t changed and the chemo has just made me sick. There isn’t anything left to do. I know this is hard for you, but it’s just a matter of time. And I won’t be making a pilgrimage to France to pray to the Virgin Mary and drink from healing waters, if that was your bright idea.”

“Why not? Why not try everything we can?”

“I would rather spend the time that I have left doing the things I love. I love my job and that’s what I want to do for as long as I’m able.”

“I can’t accept that this is the end, Scully.”

“You’re going to have to.” Her eyes welled with tears, but didn’t spill over.

Mulder looked away and closed the photo album. Scully slumped against the couch and shivered. She hugged her arms across her chest and curled up even tighter. If she got any smaller, she’d disappear.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder whispered, slipping off the couch to his knees. He shuffled over to Scully’s side of the couch and put a hand on her arm, leaning close. “It’s not over until it’s over. Ethan isn’t the last man to love you, I am. Maybe you don’t think it’s the same, but I do.”

“Mulder…” She unraveled enough to put a hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to.”

“I love you.”

“I know. I...I know.”

He leaned into the palm of her hand for a moment and then reached up to cup her face with both hands. “You’re not dying,” he whispered, just before bringing his lips to hers. “There’s time,” he said, pulling back before moving in again. “Don’t give up.”

The three kisses he pressed to her mouth were soft and chaste, but they’re the most heartfelt and tender kisses he’s ever shared with anyone. He felt her tears running down between the webbing of his fingers and he brushed them away with his thumbs. She held his wrists as he placed whispersoft kisses against her closed eyes and wet cheeks.

“I’m going to do everything I can for you,” he said. “Everything.”

“I know.”

“Fight.”

She nodded. He stroked the back of her head once and kissed her temple before rising. As much as he wanted to stay, he had work to do and he needed to get to it as quickly as possible. Maybe he could get her to hold on a little longer, but in his heart he knew he was running out of time.

The End

#xf fanfic #i wrote this #msr #ANGST #cancer arc #ed jerse #maybe a little AU #maybe not #definitely after Elegy #ignoring Demons

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hyunsracha · 5 years

Text

be okay — lee minho

word count: 2.4k

summary: two kids who know nothing about the real world run away together. but they’re not scared; they have each other, after all.

your father always told you that you were blessed to live such a full life. you always thought your father was an idiot. he was like a robot; so caught up in the order of things that he never thought about the feelings of himself or others. you didn’t even think he had feelings.

the only thing you liked about your house was the view of the town below. you lived on top of a hill, and when you looked out your bedroom window, you could see the whole town and even a little bit past it. you had only ever been out of your town twice: once to go to your cousin’s wedding a few towns over, and once to go to paris. you thought the paris trip would be fun, but you had to practically memorize a french dictionary and shadow your parents at their meetings.

you didn’t think there was anything wrong with being unhappy where you were; how could you not be? you went to university in the same town you grew up in, and your driver only took you to school and back home. your father said that it was best that way; that you wouldn’t get distracted by outside forces. it’s hard to be distracted when you were never focused in the first place. you tried to talk to the kids you grew up with about this, but they never understood.

“what’s wrong with what you’re doing now? you’re gonna graduate next year, and then you’ll take over the company! the whole world is basically being handed to you, y/n, don’t be ungrateful.”

how could they not understand? how could they enjoy sitting in their houses on top of the hills, not moving, forever? how could they just live a mundane life, never wanting to see the world?

these were your thoughts as you stood against a wall in the corner of the ballroom, an empty champagne flute in between your fingers. you were at another one of your town’s idiotic parties, where only the richest of the rich were invited. looking out the window, you could still see the town, and you wondered what the people down there were doing.

“hey.” weird. no one ever talks to you at these things, unless they want a business deal or money from you. you look over to the source of the voice.

“lee minho. only child of the lee family, one of the most eligible bachelors in town, kind of annoying but needing attention because your parents never payed attention to you. this is your graduation party isn’t it?”

“i see you’re as analytical as ever, y/n.” minho chuckled. the two of you weren’t friends, but you had never considered yourself friends with anybody. you two grew up together; albeit you were in different grades, as he was a year older.

you clicked your tongue, “unfortunately,” you placed your glass on a nearby table, swiftly grabbing a new one from a tray that a waiter was carrying as he walked by. you didn’t quite enjoy being so ‘analytical’, as he called it. in fact, you were perfect for your future career. you were smart, and good at reading people and their intentions, and you were blunt.

“we haven’t spoken in years. you want something from me. what is it, minho?”

“woah! can’t i just say hi to the lovely people who attended my graduation party?” he tilted his head to the side, a cocky smirk taking over his features.

you grinned, “no.”

“you don’t seem to be having a lot of fun.”

“the most fun i’ve had lately was in high school when i got hit in the face with a dodgeball and had to skip 4th period to hang out in the nurse’s office.” your voice was monotone, but the smile didn’t leave your lips as you gulped down the little champagne in the glass. you hated the taste, but it was better than nothing.

“just as i thought. you hate it here. i can tell.”

“i’m glad you have eyes, minho.”

“i hate it here, too.”

now that was strange. from what you’ve seen of him, minho seemed quite dedicated to the lifestyle set out for him. he took full advantage of the money he was born with, only wearing the most expensive clothes and driving the most expensive car. he had graduated university with his business degree, coming out on top of the class. he seemed perfect for this life, how could he hate it?

the same way you did, you supposed.

“so what if...you and i...left? and never came back?” his eyes were pleading, and you were more and more confused every second.

you were going to leave with him, that was for certain. you couldn’t leave alone; you didn’t know how to drive. your father insisted that you didn’t need to know how to drive because you would have a chauffeur your whole life. you just couldn’t understand why minho would want to leave with you, of all people.

you nodded, “okay.”

stealing money from your parents was a lot easier than you thought it would be. you assumed a multi-millionaire would hide his money well, but the password to your father’s safe was the birthday of his only child. you also assumed he wouldn’t keep a fuck ton of money in a single safe. you were wrong again. you filled your many backpacks with bricks of the cash, minho spinning around in your father’s fancy desk chair.

“so, where do you wanna go?” minho asked, shuffling through some of the papers on the desk.

“dunno. a place where no one knows us. and stop fucking with those. there’s probably something important in there.”

“you mean like...last year’s stock report?”

“MINHO.”

you don’t know why you cared so much. you were literally about to leave this life and all those papers behind. nonetheless, you walked over to the desk and pulled the stock reports from minho’s grasp, shoving them into a random drawer.

after you collected all the money you thought you needed and packed a bag of necessities, you threw all the bags into the backseat of minho’s car.

“somewhere no one knows us, huh?” minho mumbled as you got in the passenger seat. you nodded. minho snapped his fingers, “got it. buckle up, babe, we’re gonna be on the road for a while.”

minho was right. you were on the road for a while. 8 hours, to be exact. not that you were counting. you learned a lot about minho in that time. you played 20 questions to lessen the awkwardness between two young adults who weren’t friends running away from home together. you learned that minho taught himself how to dance, liked pineapple on pizza, and wanted at least 3 cats.

“why three?” you had asked.

“two cats could get lonely. three makes them a squad, you know?”

you two had a lot more in common than you thought. you believed that your only similarity was your social status, but it went deeper than that. you had the same sense of humor, knew that aliens were real, and binged watched cooking shows at 3 a.m. you put on your road trip playlist of throwback songs (that you never got to use) and minho knew every song. 8 hours was all it took for you to connect with someone like you have never connected with anyone in your entire life. you trusted minho more than you trusted your driver, and he had spent 20 years driving you around safely.

the sun had been up for almost two hours when minho pulled into the parking lot of an old motel.

“wow. this place looks rough.”

“i know!”

you two were way too excited to be staying at such a run-down place. but you had never stayed anywhere less than ‘perfect’.

minho paid for a room (“what a cute couple! going on a honeymoon road trip?” “u-uh yeah!”) and handed you the keys. you practically ran to the room, excited to see what it looked like. the two of you were used to five star hotels with lavish balconies that overlooked beautiful cities.

there was a double bed with puke green bedding. there were two counters in the room; a dresser that had a small tv on it, and a round table fit for two. a small bathroom was attached that would be too small for you to lay down on it. not that you would. it was just a sizing thing. there was a window on the far wall that overlooked the dusty street you had just driven on.

“are you tired?” minho was suddenly behind you, looking out at the street over your shoulder.

“no, i think i’m too excited to sleep. let’s go to that diner over there!”

and that was the beginning of your journey together.

driving for hours to get to new towns, staying at low-rated motels and eating at diners that all gave off a similar vibe. you would get milkshakes and throw your fries at each other and talk to the waitresses about the town you were in that day. when they asked for your names, sometimes you gave them fake names, and they never questioned it. that was such a good feeling; being able to tell people whatever you wanted to tell them without them already knowing everything about you. you had spent your whole life under the magnifying class of people who worked for the company. now you were just you, whoever you wanted that to be for the day.

the waitresses always thought you two were dating, but you never said anything about it. you were only in town for a day, what did it matter what they thought?

you also sort of liked the thought of minho being your boyfriend, but that wasn’t the point.

you two would drive to the nearest gas station and fill up on gas and snacks, minho’s smile even brighter than the fluorescent lights as he laughed. you two were like little kids, running around town and messing with each other. then you’d go back to the motel and watch old soap operas while you snacked. and your head always would up on minho’s chest, and his arm was around you, but you never said anything about it.

summer was coming to an end, and you were across the country. you had enough money to probably last a month or two, but you were slowing running out.

“minho,” you spoke up, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. this was normal now: you holding his hand as he drove, “we should probably settle down, don’t you think?”

he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought, “yeah. yeah we should.”

you two took a tour of the city you were in, making sure it was to your liking. it was cute, and decently big, perfect for you two.

“oh, look over there!” minho squeezed your hand, pointing to a building across the street. it looked like an office space. “i can get a job there with my fancy business degree i hate.”

“won’t you hate that?”

“don’t most people hate their jobs? it’s just for money. oh my gosh, y/n,” minho grabs your shoulder, turning you so you were facing him, “i’m gonna hate my job!”

it might’ve sounded silly, but he was genuinely excited. it was just another one of those things that made him feel normal. just an average guy. except minho wasn’t average in any way. not in your eyes, at least. and seeing him all excited over something like this made your heart flutter, but you never said anything about it.

“oh!” you smacked his shoulder, pointing behind him at a small cafe, “and i can work there!” you had dropped out of university. not officially, but abandoning school to run across the country and never come back is kind of the same thing. you would go back to school, eventually, once you decided what you actually wanted to do. you were going to live your life for you now. and for minho.

“yeah! aw, we’ll work across the street from each other,” minho pouted, “that’s so cute. we’re so cute.” he pulled you closer, draping his arm across your shoulder as he starting walking again.

you’re laying in another motel room, staring up at the ceiling. minho is laying next to you, staring back at you.

“minho,” you start, “do you love me?”

“yeah.”

“like. love love me?” “what are you, twelve?” you feel his hand sliding across the mattress, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“i dunno. i’m kinda scared.”

“i thought you were excited?”

“i’m excited and scared. like when you go on a rollercoaster, you know?”

“no, i don’t go on rollercoasters. too scary.” you can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes you smile, too, “but our lives together have been kind of a rollercoaster, haven’t they?”

you nodded, your smile growing wider at the thought of all the memories you two shared.

“you have no reason to be scared, my love. we’ll stay here until we have enough money to get a small little apartment, perfect for you and me...and eventually our cats. and i’ll work at the office and hate my job, but come home and love my partner. and our cats. and eventually we’ll have a family and we’ll be able to just...live. live and love and not have to worry about whether our kids are good enough to take over the family business or not.” minho lets go of your hand, turning over onto his stomach and wrapping his arm around your waist. he presses his lips to your cheek for a moment before resting his head on his pillow and shutting his eyes.

“we’ll be okay, baby.” his words are muffled by the pillow, but you can hear him clear as day. you smile, placing your hand on his arm for comfort. you two were still like little kids: kind of dumb and unsure of how the world works. but you matured a lot during that summer, growing and changing and learning what it was like to be young. to be in love. to be free. and now it was time to settle down, start your adult lives. but you knew you wouldn’t lose anything you had learned with minho.

“yeah. we’ll be okay.”

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spencerreidisbananas · 5 years

Text

Daddy Double: Part One

Authors Note: Okay so this is a fan fiction that I wrote a long time ago and I only wrote a few chapters but I thought I would continue it here. It’s not the best, but it has potential so tell me what you guys think. I will post part chapter two in a couple days!

Description: After being kicked out by her mom because of her failing grades, Sophie is left with no money, food, or place to stay. Her friend Grace finds a great solution to her problems, but is the solution too much? And what happens when it becomes more than a job?

I was dreading this moment when I would have to come home. I have to give my mom my report card. I’m not gonna lie, my grades are pretty terrible which is why I had been avoiding the idea of handing it to her in the first place. Unfortunately for me, my school makes mandatory calls to parents when students grades are below a certain average. I knew my mom was going to kill me.

My mom had never been the best of mom's. Always out all night, whether it be on dates or getting drunk at a bar. I mean hell she was probably off doing some illegal drugs right now. After my dad left us it was always like this.

He left when I was in 8th grade. I came home one day to my mom crying on the couch and most of my dad's stuff gone. I knew that they had been fighting for quite some time, but I didn't think that he would be a dick like that and just leave. He left vacant memories behind. Occasionally my mom would clean the house and find a piece of paper that he wrote or one of his hair brushes. It was never a pretty sight to see when my mom found one of his items.

However grades were always a must in the house. Basically if you had below an A average in the class then you weren't good enough. Throughout all of my school years so far I have been good at keeping them up but I don't want to anymore. I could care less about my grades and what my mom thinks. I know that grades won't get you everywhere in life.

The sound of the last bell rings snapping me out of my own thoughts as I tread out of English class. I will do basically whatever it takes not to get home today. I secretly hope that one of the buses will accidentally run me over or that I will get detention for me breaking the dress code today. However none of that happens. Instead, I find that I have no distractions for me to use to get home later. My friends have already left because they are all in band and on a trip right now. No teacher's seem to care anymore about what I am wearing. I guess they gave up on that when I gave up on my grades.

I find my car in the parking lot and sigh. I guess there is no other point in trying to drag this out. The bad grades have already been done and I am sure my mom has already gotten a call from my school. My best bet is that she is sitting at home drowning herself in beer and trying to figure out what she is gonna do with her horrible daughter.

While at a red light my phone buzzes in my pocket. A smile perks up on my face as I see it's one of my friends Grace. The text reads;

“Good luck with your demon mother today! Text me later of how bad the punishment is.”Of course she would say that. Grace was the support friend that everyone needs in their life. No matter what problem I had she always had a solution. Sometimes those solution may be wild but she was never wrong.

Pulling up into my driveway I see my mom's car is already parked outside. This is rare for her because normally she has already gone out and started drinking. That's how I knew that this fight was going to be a bad one.

When I walked in the house was dead silent except for the low rumble of the washer in the background. There my mom is sitting on the couch with deadlocked eyes at me and a suitcase.

“Sophie can I please have a talk with you?” My mother glares.

“I got a call from the school today.” My mom says.

I gulp and nod knowingly.

“You know I’m sick and tired of you not caring for things after everything I have done for you.”I scoff at the remark, but she doesn't notice. She stands up grabbing the suitcase and starts walking closer.

“ I think it's times that you leave. Move out. Whatever you have to do, but I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect and ungratefulness in my household.” She says with a straight face.

My jaw drops. “ You can’t be serious mom. You can't just kick me out of the house! I’m only seventeen.”

“Exactly! A seventeen year old should not be aloud to act this way. If you don’t want to get the good grades and work for the respect that I don't want you in my house anymore. You have three days to leave.”

With that statement she sets down the suitcase next to me and walks away and into her room.

***********

Immediately I call Grace. I'm freaking out because I never thought my mom would actually kick me out of the house. She answers almost instantaneously just like always.

“So how's the demon of the household?” she says.

“She kicked me out of the house.” I reply

“Wait...really? I mean I knew that she was a shitty mom but I didn't know she was that bad.”

“Yes really. She says that I have three days to pack my stuff up and leave the house. I don't know what to do. I have no money, no job, and I'm failing school!” I exclaim

“ You know that if my parents weren't strict I would let you stay here but they wouldn't allow it. Luckily, you have me who can solve any problem. Give me an hour to think and I'll text you when I have an idea.” She responds

“Thank you Grace. I don't know what I would do without you. Talk to you later, love you.” I sigh.

“Love you too sister”

With that the call ends.

#5sos #calum 5sos #luke 5sos #luke hemmings #luke smut #sub luke #calum hood #calum smut #calum sub #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #ashton smut #michael clifford #michael smut #michael 5sos #5sos smut #5sos fanfic

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gloss-glass-ash · 6 years

Text

Sunday's

Request: no

Summary: the farmer!ashton Au that nobody asked for

Tags: @cal-pal-cuddles

Sunday's were spent at Ashton's after the various services let out. His friends and brothers with their kids would roll up the drive, stirring up dust from the dirt road. The dogs would yip with excitement alerting him of his visitors. He'd turn off the stove top and step outside with a dish rag in his hands.

The kids would happily shout at him, crawling and climbing all around him. They'd tell him about Sunday school and regular school, Luna Hemmings would proudly show off her latest lost tooth while Charlie Clifford acted too cool for the whole ordeal. Eventually, everyone made their way inside and settled in for an early dinner.

Ashton loved Sunday's. On Sunday's he had company more than just his animals and the nosy old bat of a neighbor. He wasn't alone on Sunday's.

"I'm thinking of renting the apartment over the garage." He didn't really know why he said that. He figured it was the only interesting thing he could respond with to the "what's been up with you this week?"

"Yeah?" Calum leaned the chair back, rubbing his stomach through his shirt. "What if I move back in?"

"Cal, I love you, but I ain't cleaning your shit up again."

So, he left that alone and published his want ad in the newspaper. He didn't anticipate getting a response so soon, especially not from a teacher. Ashton arranged to meet with the applicant on Saturday after the farmer's market for coffee at the only coffee shop in town.

Ashton settled into a booth by the window, removed his cap, and unzipped his jacket. He ordered a cup of tea and waited. Teachers, by nature, were punctual and Y/N was no different. She arrived promptly dressed like a Pinterest board with a folder in hand and bag on her shoulder. Ashton threw up a hand.

"Mr. Irwin?" Polite, perhaps southern. Ashton smiled and nodded.

"Miss Y/L/N?" He teased showing his teeth. "Came prepared I see."

"There's a reference from my last land lord, my resume and schedule, and two bank statements." Y/N settled into the booth, ordered a chai, and folded her hands on the table.

Ashton glanced over the papers with pseudo intelligence. He didn't know shit about what all that stuff meant; his roommate interest was entirely about someone to use the apartment on the farm and maybe offer human interaction on day's other than Sunday's.

"Why are you leaving your old lease? Those are swanky apartments downtown." Ashton took a sip of his tea, deciding being nosy was his best bet.

There was a blush of embarrassment to her cheeks. "You can look at my bank statements teachers we don't get paid shi-nothing, we don't get paid anything."

He remembers Liz mentioning stuff before about teachers having to protest for pay and pensions. At the time, he didn't care. Today, sitting before this gentle creature soft with curves and gentle eyes, he decided he did care...a lot.

The two got on nicely so he agreed for her to come visit the following Monday evening and move in the next weekend. Monday evening arrived quickly which left Ashton little time to fix any repairs in the apartment while tending to the farm.

Calum left a lot of his shit there that Ashton placed in a box to give him later. He moved the bed frame toward the window and added some plants,interior designers be damned. Y/N arrived in a hatchback, hair falling from a ponytail. She held a coffee mug in her hand.

"Rough day?" Ashton led her up the stairs to the apartment, his hand hovering over her back close enough for protection without being invasive.

Y/N laughed a joyful sound. "Shakespeare for Seniors was today." Sometimes she was so in the education bubble that she forgot there were people who didn't live and breathe school. Ashton's confusion was apparent as he opened the door. "The language arts and social studies departments team up to study Shakespeare and perform for residents of local nursing homes."

"Woah that's so" good, adorable, amazing, "awesome." Ashton entered the apartment. "It's got a living room, bedroom, full bath, basically an open floor plan." He settled onto the bench by the front door, letting her look around. "I'll do maintenance. Heating and air is pretty stable. However, if we get a winter like last years, you'll have to come in the farmhouse it'll be too cold."

"Can I repaint? And can my car go in the garage below?"

She signed papers right away, paying him first months rent with the promise of last months soon. Ashton waved a hand dismissively and assured her he'd help move her in. Slowly throughout the week he would move her belongings over in his old pickup and trailer.

Y/N was all settled by Saturday night, just in time to snuggle up in bed and watch SNL. She was exhausted from her work week and all the stress of moving. Perhaps she should have considered farm life a bit more, but the idea of not sleeping in on Sunday's hadn't crossed her mind.

A rooster crowed at sunrise, perched on top of the fence just outside her window. Dogs barked consistently. Ashton whistled quite loudly as he went about his daily chores. Y/N managed to lay in until 8. Dressing, she headed out to the barn barn where Ashton was happily feeding his pigs.

"Morning sunshine, I didn't wake you did I?" The worry in his eyes was so sincere she couldn't say yes.

"No, I'm used to getting up early." She peeked behind Ashton to the pig pen. "Not to judge or be ungrateful, but you don't, you know" she slid her thumb across her throat.

"I sell them. I eat bacon. I don't eat my own pigs though, wouldn't feel right."

"They're awfully cute."

Without hesitation, Ashton scooped up a squealing piglet and passed it to her. "You get attached then I can't sell her. Do with that what you will."

Poppy got a little red ribbon tied around her neck by that afternoon. Ashton was quite pleased that the little piglet was staying because it meant Y/N was staying. He waved her in from the barn to his back porch. "My family is stopping by for dinner, you're welcome to join us unless you're busy."

Y/N was not, in fact busy. She had finished posting grades, she was caught up on laundry, and she was painfully single. "Are you sure?"

The sunlight hit his smile in the way only movies could, in the way that made him look like James Dean or maybe even Harry Styles. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it, honey." A certain smugness tightened in his chest at the way her eyes widened at his quip. "They'll be over soon."

It had been several years-10 maybe- since she'd been to Sunday dinner but she reasoned her teacher wardrobe would suffice. She searched what food she had brought to move in with, grabbed a bottle of wine, and headed to the farm house. Better to show up with a cheap bottle of wine from CVS than empty handed.

Ashton had changed into sinfully tight black jeans with a crisp white shirt that made him glow. "You wash up nice." Y/N teased handing him the wine. "Not exactly Sunday dinner material but it's something."

Without paused, Ashton took her under his arm and into his chest. A musky yet clean scent filled her senses as he gave her a quick squeeze. "You're the one who needs the housewarming gift, my dear."

Calum arrived before Y/N could worry about making a fool of herself. Ashton kept his arm secured around her while ushering her to the kitchen with Calum. The rest trickled in until they were settled around a table that didn't set level with floor and chairs that creaked.

"Mrs. Y/L/N, why are you living with Uncle Ash?" Charlie Clifford asked, fondly setting next to his favorite teacher. "I mean, I'm not complaining if it gets me an A , but I have a responsibility to report the facts."

"Charlie, you were the school news reported one day and almost got suspended, leave your teacher alone." Y/N quite liked Michael and Crystal. She liked his entire family for that matter. It had been a long time since she sat at a table and felt she belonged there.

"It's okay, Charlie. I'm not living with your Uncle. I'm renting the apartment over the garage."

"And domesticating my pigs." Ashton teased before taking her hand and Cal's to bless dinner and wow she was fond.

During the week, they adopted a routine that switched dinner from each of their places. Wednesdays were interesting, as Y/N watched from her bedroom window while Ashton did yoga with his goats ("I'm telling you they make it better"). Friday's were a little odd, watching Y/N assault his blender making cocktails while watching cable news ("I've had a long week and our country's going to hell in a hand basket I deserve this").

Somewhere between Sunday dinners and Charlie's play or maybe it was after Luna's dance recital, Ashton wasn't sure. Regardless, at some point he forgot what life was like without her. That was scary in the beautiful way. He wanted more than what they had. So, he changed into his best flannel shirt and slicked his hair back. He cut flowers from his rose garden and put a little glitter on.

Marching right up the stairs to her apartment, he knocked upon entering. Poppy squealed from her pet bed zooming right for his legs. Y/N had taken off her heels by the door and was in the process of starting dinner when he touched her shoulder.

"I'd sure like to take you out tonight" Ashton paused, hazel eyes filled with affection, "and maybe kiss you. I'll walk you home after." He winked with a sparkly smile.

True to his word, Ashton took her out, asked and then kissed her, and walked her home the morning after. Things changed for the best. It wouldn't be long before Ashton would move her stuff in into the house with the intention of forever.

#Ashton Irwin imagines #aahton Irwin imagine #ashton Irwin blurb #ashton Irwin blurbs #5sos blurbs #5sos blurb #5sos imagines #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines #farmer!5sos #farmer!ashton #ashton Irwin au

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ticcitobyoriginstory · 6 years

Text

Ticci Toby - Origin Story

Screaming. Screaming. A tall man with no face. He looked like a lamppost. Something was wrong. Screaming. Then black.

The ride home was just as cold and unforgiving. It felt as if it droned on and on, like it had been hours of just sitting, head pressed against the window. The houses lit warmly gave an envious feeling in the kids chest. An ill feeling that wound around his stomach a drill.

There was only him and his mother in the car. She was a beautiful older woman. Dark brown curly hair, that was pulled into a ponytail. She had light green eyes that usually stood out like gemstones, but now they looked dull. Lifeless. Her arms were shaking and her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Occasional stray tears rolling down her cheeks. She made no noise, not a sob, not a deep breath. She was completely silent. Her makeup was running, so there was no hiding her true feelings. She had gone through something truly painful, and the black wet lines upon her cheeks were the proof.

Her son behind her wasn't quite as stunning, no, his skin was pale, grey from anemia. His hair was mousy and grey, and sticking up in every direction, long enough that people could mistake him for a girl. He had dark circles under his eyes that mimicked the look of bruises, he was wearing a slightly bloodied white t-shirt and blue scrubs, as his clothes he wore just before the accident were tattered and too ripped to stay on. The right side of his face bared quite a few cuts and bruises, a slit through his eyebrow and another through his bottom lip that required stitches. His arm, chest, and stomach had been covered in wounds, areas where the glass and sharp metal had entered his body.

The injuries looked painful upon inspection, but you would learn they were like a mere paper cut. The kid had incredibly high pain tolerance, some could say it was unnatural. They found this out when he had broke his arm in the 4th grade, and he didn't cry. The doctors say it's a marvel, and that he's lucky he can't feel the impact of the injuries. The doctors at the hospital practically knew him by name, since he visited so often. This wasn't the only hospital he frequented, the mental health clinic also knew him by name. He had seen every therapist in the area, which really isn't saying much since it is a small area after all. He used to go to emotional therapy once a week and cognition therapy once every other week. He had a certain 'quirk’ to him. He had little tics, fidgets. He would flap his hands, or his eyes would twitch, or he’d crack his neck. He'd do these throughout the day, ranging from one every hour to multiple in a matter of minutes. Sometimes they were involuntary and happened like a sneeze, sometimes they were voluntary, and he did it to express himself. Either way, it led him to get mocked out in public. His high school peers bullying him into submission. The nickname that stuck the most was 'Ticci-Toby’. When the bullying turned physical, his mother resorted to homeschooling.

Toby Erin Rogers was what was written on the band around his wrist. He kept eyeing at it, the name felt foreign. Every bump, every turn made his stomach sink, and his head duck down. Every time he saw a car approaching theirs, he began to panic. That is because last time he was in a car, it had crashed. They say you remember every moment of a car crash, but it was all a blur. A black flash, and then sirens. That was the last time he saw his sister. Bloodied, dead.

Toby closed his eyes, once again pressing his forehead against the window. It was cold against his hot skin. The image of his sister replayed in his head. Her screaming. The sudden stop of her screaming. He silently wept, big round bubbly tears fell from his eyes.

The time passed as he thought, and they arrived before he knew it. For a while there he didn't recognize where he was, but then realized that his mother had taken the back roads, to avoid the crash. Connie, his mother, pulled into the driveway. The neighborhood was cute, a simple neighborhood, mostly filled with nice old people who made sweets for their fellow neighbors. The thing that stood out to Toby was the black Subaru parked outside of their house. An immediate sickness overthrew Toby, a rage. His vision reddened. His father. His father who wasn't there.

Before Connie could step out, Toby gently grabbed her arm, tears welling in his eyes.

“Why is he here?” Toby said through his teeth, his mother opening the car door and gently pulling Toby's hand off.

“He-” Connie searched for the right words. She knew Toby had a distrust for his father, and she didn't want to feed into it. “He's here to talk to you….To apologize”

“Right, because that can be fixed with an apology” Toby said furrowing his brows. He opened his door before his mother could for him, and stepped out. This stance was uneasy but he tried to hold himself strong against his father. His knees felt weak and shaky, and the world was spinning.

Toby's father, Ron, walked towards Connie and Toby with open arms, expecting an embrace, but the two continued walking forward, ignoring his opening. Connie kept her hand on Toby’s back, guiding him inside.

Ron's face dropped, and he let out a sigh.

“Toby?” He called out, Toby turning around at the call of his name, and letting out a little grunt in response.

“You'll understand when you're older. I just couldn't have made it, it wasn't safe for me to drive. This is all just a big misunderstanding and-”

“You don't seem to understand” Toby choked back tears as he spoke. “You could've taken a bus, or gotten a ride. You could've done literally anything and it would've been better than nothing. What about a phone call!? What about a TEXT!?”

Ron stayed quiet, his face twisting from a seemingly apologetic one to one full of anger. He clenched his teeth, and balled his fist.

“You say it like I didn't TRY you ungrateful little shit! You should KNOW better!” Ron stood tall, fists still balled.

Connie began walking again, leading Toby to the house.

“And don't pretend you aren't fueling this! Let the kid walk by himself, he's sixteen for fucks sake”

“He's seventeen” Connie said, staring ahead of her as she unlocked the door. She attempted to guide Toby in, but he stood his ground.

“No, no, I'm sixteen. I can walk myself” Toby said sarcastically as he stormed into the house and up the stairs. He slammed the door, and locked it from the inside. Letting his emotions take over him, he screamed and kicked. His fit slowly changed from rage to sadness, and ended with him crying on the floor.

His room was cluttered with toys and collectibles and posters, yet lacked anything 'adult’. He had nothing sharp in his room, and everything lacked organization. What was clean though, was his desk. Which had a small laptop, a handheld game system, and a picture of his family on it. It had all four of them, before he grew a hatred towards his father. Before he grew distant and abusive. Before he would scream at Toby's mother, before he would hit Lyra. Toby never minded the punches his father gave him. But it was what he did to Connie and Lyra that built his hate. Lyra, taking her last breath, and his father being the only one not to rush to her side, was what broke the straw on the camel's back. He should've been there.

Toby got up from the floor, and walked to his window sill, he pressed his forehead against the window, and peered out. It felt good against his skin. He scanned the streets down, looking at everything below him. At first he saw what he thought was to be a lamp post, but it was in the street. His vision fizzled and he shook his head, looking back down. The figure was gone. He glared down at the street for a minute, contemplating if what he just saw was actually there. After a few minutes of wracking his brain, he remembered he hasn't been on his meds for a few days, since he was in a hospital. That could probably be the cause of it.

Dinner time came and went, Toby wasn't hungry. Instead he watched his father eat. Toby had a habit of staring at people, even when it got awkward. His father banged his hand on the table and said “Would you quit staring like a freak?! I'm just eating!” which caused Toby to jump, and look at his food.

His mother walked him to his room, stepping over the piles of clothes and toys on the floor. He curled up in his bed, and she sat on the side of it. She looked down at Toby, who was facing towards the wall with his back to her. She ran her fingers across his back, which startled him at first, but he then relaxed. This reminded him of when he was a child, and she'd rub his back every night.

“It's hard right now, I know. But it'll get better, and you'll feel better.” She said with a shaky tone. Almost as if she was unsure of her words.

“When is he leaving?” Toby muttered, ignoring her positive words. The niceness of the words but the uncertainty of her voice made his stomach hurt.

“I-...” She let her gaze drift to the floor, and stopped rubbing his back. “I don't know. For all I know, he's staying”

Toby didn't respond, and Connie didn't add anything. They sat motionless as the silence ate away at them. Connie closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh, then stood up. With a “goodnight”, she walked out, and shut the door. Toby knew he couldn't sleep. Every time he tried, the image of her played. It should've been you, the voices played. Her scream repeated. It should've been you.

Toby rolled and jerked in his bed, tears rolling down his cheeks. Anxiety raised in his gut like a dragon blowing fire, it burned. He screamed into his pillow, wailing into the soft cushion, which muffled the noise. He cried and cried, kicking his legs, howling. His tears were hot and stung his eyelids. He clenched his eyes shut and panted. After a couple minutes of straight crying, he threw the pillow across the room and sat up. He took deep breaths, calming himself down as he arose to his feet. Rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, he stepped to his window and peered out. Immediately he noticed the figure. The faceless, lamp-post like figure, with a long black body. The world grew colorful like holding a magnet to a TV, glitchy. A few crackles crawled through his ears, and something began ringing. He couldn't look away. The thought of looking away never crossed his mind. It's like it made him draw a blank. The ringing grew louder as the world grew distorted. Something pulled him down by his back, slamming him onto the floor. Everything went black.

Toby awoke on the floor, and the blank was still there. It's like he had hit his head, and his thoughts were muffled and censored. Stumbling up, he stared at the wall. He had tunnel vision, and was dizzy. Staring at his hands, he began making it out of his room, knocking into the door, for he forgot it was closed. He opened it and made his way down the stairs. His mother was cooking in the kitchen, as his father had a beer in hand, watching TV. He slowly walked over to his mother, and stood behind her.

She jumped as she saw him out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh! Good Morning,” she gave a soft smile and stroked his hair, her fingers getting caught in the tangles. She gently pulled them out. Toby looked behind her at the oven clock. It was 12:37 pm.

“I made breakfast, but it got cold. I didn't want to wake you, so I figured I could just reheat it” she said concerned, as Toby had not said a word.

Toby turned around, walking towards his father on the couch. He sat next to his father. It should've been you…..it should've been him. The voices repeat. If his mind wasn't so scrambled, maybe he'd take his meds. Or realize that something was wrong. But instead, he splayed out his fingers like a fan, and robotically reached out for his father's arm. He gently pressed his hand against the arm. It was warm, but Toby barely had time to register it, as his father smacked his hand away.

“Don't touch me boy!” He was obviously drunk already.

Toby flinched, and Connie spoke up.

“Hey! That is the last thing we need right now! He didn't mean any harm by it!” She raised her voice. Toby didn't respond, and just stood up and walked to his room.

Toby began displaying behaviors similar to ones he used to show as a child. Before he started seeing therapists and psychiatrists and taking meds. He began isolating himself more and more, pacing in his room day and night. When he was outside of his room, he began showing signs of relapse.

He would ramble about hallucinations he's had, or delusions he's had. He began twitching and flapping more. He began dissociating and moaning and spacing out while talking. Something was wrong. His mother grew increasingly worried.

Ron began relapsing as well, falling deeper and deeper into his abusive routines. Get up, stay sober for a few hours. Start drinking. Watch TV, yell and scream and hit if anyone interrupts him. Connie began to fall into the routine too, becoming more submissive and tied to his demands.

In his room, Toby would mess with his old radio. He would tune it between two channels and press it against his ear, volume blasted all the way up. He'd draw images of the man he'd see outside his window. He'd draw and draw until his room was filled with sharpie fumes and he’d black out.

Connie thought it'd be good to bring him out, so she stopped leaving him in the house alone. Anytime she went to buy groceries she would bring him. They were out in the vegetable isle and the lights of the grocery store began flickering. Toby's brain began to glitch, the dark seemed darker and the light seemed brighter. He clapped his hands over his temples and began groaning.

“Toby? Toby what's wrong?” Connie gently grabbed Toby's arm, causing him to flinch and yank away.

“THE-nnGG,” he huffs and twitches rapidly “THE L-LIGHTS,” he said covering his eyes with his hands and stumbling back right into someone picking out some peppers. Connie grabbed Toby and guided him back to their cart, looking at the lady and bowing her head down.

“I am so sorry, are you OK?” she spoke with an apologetic tone in her voice as she rubbed Toby’s shoulders.

“Yes i'm OK, but is your daughter alright?” The woman said innocently. If Toby was even paying attention it would've been like a punch in the gut.

“Y-yes I think he's OK,” Connie didn't bother correcting her. “Thank you,” she began guiding Toby into a different isle, as he kept his eyes covered.

Over the next few days Toby's sensitivity to bright and flashing lights grew. Ron grew more and more annoyed with the fact they had to keep the lights dimmed or off. Connie came home with a pair of light dimming goggles, both to benefit Toby when he went out with her, and to calm down Ron and keep him from throwing a fit.

Toby would wear the goggles regularly. It helped with the flashing lights he almost constantly hallucinated, but they isolated him further. His mother could never tell what he was thinking and the strangers at grocery stores and gas stations thought he was weird and freaky.

Toby’s thoughts would wander, but none of them were coherent. They were about his imaginary friends, or the sharks in the sink. He'd try and talk and sometimes disjointed words would come out in a random order. Sometimes he'd go days without talking. He began chewing on his fingers as a way to cope with the numbness. He would chew and chew until they bled, and then start on a new finger. He'd also chew on the insides of his cheeks, and pick at his face. His mother walked in on him destroying his fingers, and had nearly called 911. She bandaged up his hands, and tried to talk to him about it. But nothing that came out made sense. That night, toby had a panic attack in the bathroom. He took a razor to his head, cutting off his long hair into a buzz cut. He couldn’t stop looking at himself, he looked so much like his father with short hair. He took his hand and punched the mirror, over and over, until it broke. Screaming, he continued to hit the mirror shards. They punctured his knuckles. Connie woke up and ran to the bathroom, finding Toby on the floor, cradling his glass filled hand and screaming.

Connie set up an appointment out of town with a new therapist. She didn't know what to do, and every day Toby grew worse. He began drawing distorted figures, tall lanky figures with long arms and no face. He would ramble about seeing figures at his bed. At them holding him and calling him in. Calling for him. She was scared for him. She didn't know what to do.

Before stopping at the therapists, she took him out clothes shopping. Making sure he had his goggles, and something to play with when he got too nervous. He had one of those little fidget cubes from the internet, and kept that in his pocket. They walked into the store and Connie said he could pick out anything he likes. That made him excited, or as excited as he could be. It felt as if there was a big blanket over his emotions.

Toby picked out a brown and green striped hoodie, some big black boots, a skull mask, and a new white and blue baseball cap. He’s wanted this outfit since he saw it online, and his mother finally let him get it.

They got back in the car and headed out of town, they talked, almost as if everything was normal. They told jokes, and laughed, and got coffee. Connie felt as if things were really looking up. Parking the car, the two got out, Toby had his new shoes and mask on. The mask covering one part of his face, and the goggles covering the other park.

She walked in, one hand gently guiding Toby into the building. She walked up to the desk. “I have an appointment for Toby Rogers” she spoke trying to sound as professional as she can.

“Yes, right this way” The woman at the desk got up and walked to a wooden door, unlocking it with her key card and walking them to a room with three chairs in it. There were puppets in a basket and a salt rock and some toys in the corner. Toby sat down and stared blankly at the salt rock.

“Toby, i'm going to wait out here, OK?” His mother said. After Toby looked at her and nodded she walked back to the waiting room.

After about a minute or two, a woman in a black turtleneck and a green skirt came in. She was holding a cup of coffee and a clipboard. She smiled at Toby.

“You're Toby, aren't you?” She asked sweetly. Her voice was young and soft. Toby nodded. She had light blonde hair just like Lyra, and his own hair if he was healthier. Toby opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted him, not realizing he was going to speak.

“I like your outfit, very…..Punk alternative,” she said with a supportive tone. Toby looked down.

“Thank yo-you,” he said politely as he made his way to the chair. He swung his feet and looked around, absorbing the room and everything in it. There was a watercolor painting that said ‘do what you love’ and a picture of snoopy that looked like a child colored it.

“Do you always dress like that?”

“Sort of? The ma-a-ask is ne-ew, the-e goggles he-elp with my pani-ic attack-cks.”

“Hm, I see. Is the mask just a fashion thing?”

“Yea-ah”

They continued to talk like this for a while, dancing around the truth of why he's here. She talked to him about his panic attacks, and light sensitivity, and other minor things. Toby got bored, and began looking out the window as he answered. That's when he saw it, the creature. Its following him out of town. He jumped, but he couldn't look away.

“Toby do you think you could look at me when I talk to you?” the therapist asked nicely, but all Toby could hear is static and ringing. He could almost make out voices, in the static. It sounded like Lyra, like she was calling out to him. He could see her, behind the creature. Body in a golden light. He began breathing hard and heavily, tears welling in his eyes.

“Toby? Toby look at me,” the therapist said in a concerned tone, standing up and walking over to Toby. She sat next to him, but he didn’t even notice. “Toby, please-” With a worried look in her eyes, she gently touched him on the shoulder. He twitched and swung around to look at her.

Her face was disfigured, right jaw disconnected and hanging low, her left ear completely ripped off. Blood splattered onto toby's face and her eyes turned white and dead like a fish's eyes. Her jaw moved and hung open, and she gargled. Blood splattered on his goggles and he clenched his eyes shut and began to scream. He felt his body go limp, and everything went black.

The next thing Toby knew was that he's in the passenger seat of his mother's car, he was violently shaking. He began crying into his hands. Connie reached out and touched his shoulder gently, rubbing his shoulder and neck.

“It's gonna be ok, thi-...whatever's going on, it's going to go away,” she said desperate to believe it herself. Toby had no idea how he got there, or if what happened was even real. He cried and cried, barely able to breath.

As they got home, Toby walked inside and set his things on the table. Taking off his goggles and setting them with his hoodie and mask. He didn’t eat dinner, his father glared at him, and groaned when Toby refused to eat dinner. He said something about needing a drink, but Toby’s ears were full of static. He went upstairs around nine, and headed straight for bed.

He didn’t fall asleep right away, instead he counted the bumps of the popcorn ceiling above him. His mind was absent, void of any real substance. His eyes were glazed over and tired, but he didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel much of anything. What he could feel was himself drifting off into an unconscious state. His eyes began fluttering, as he felt himself fall into slumber. Until he heard footsteps, small ones, running down the hall. He shot up from his slumber and looked around. Nothing was in his room making noises. In fact other then the very obvious footsteps that creaked down the hall there was no noise at all. He got to his feet, and walked over to the open doorway. He slowly reached out to grab the handle, but the door quickly slammed with the force of ten men. Toby fell backwards and let out a scream, eyes wide open, chest pounding.

“Hello!? Dad?” He called out, a mixture of fear and anger in his voice. He slowly got up again, and stared at the knob of the door. Reaching out, his bandaged hand grasped the knob and carefully and oh so slowly opened it. The door squeaked, but it opened like a regular door. Toby peered outside, and quietly took a couple steps forward. Walking out into the middle of the hallway he began to pad at the bandages on his hands. The sound of small footsteps circled him, spinning him. He could hear the faint noise of children laughing.

“Mom?” He called once again, still no response. It was eerie and cold, the hallway stretched and grew and Toby stared down. His stomach felt wrong, like it was doing flips and that he was about to throw up. The door quickly slammed right behind him, and locked shut. Toby jumped and let out a yelp, spinning around towards the door and backing up, until he backed up into something soft and cold. He heard a moan behind him, like something from a horror movie. He slowly looked behind him, not wanting to see what it was, and what a horror it was.

It was his sister, looking exactly how she did when she died. Blood soaked, hair pulled into a long messy ponytail, missing patches of her hair. Her eyes looked like dead fish eyes, milky and white, her skin pale and grey with gashes dripping dark red. The right side of her jaw ripped clean off, she groaned and gurgled like she was drowning in her own blood. Her clothes bloody ripped and dirty, she gently put her hand on Toby's shoulder. Toby stumbled back and began to scream, tripping over his own feet and slamming backwards onto the floor, his head knocking against the hardwood floors and caused the world to spin and ring. Toby let out a groan as he touched the back of his head, blood, just a little bit. He stammered up. Lyra reached out again for him, trying to touch him, but Toby slammed her against the wall, running past her and screaming. Not looking where he was going, he ran into another figure. The tall faceless man he’d seen multiple times before. He never got this close to it. He took a few steps back, staring at the creature. Tears welling in his eyes as he stuttered over his words.

“B-b-b-buh-” Was all he could get out before his vocals shut down as he started crying. Children, creatures, with dark black eyes and bloody faces, missing pieces of skin and limbs. They had twisted smiled on their faces. Toby felt soft, cold hands wrap around his shoulders in a back hug, and a whisper in his ear.

“Give in,” Then everything went black.

Toby woke up with a scream, sputtering and coughing, crying. His face was wet and hot. Wiping his eyes with his bandages hands, he let out a sob. He sobbed and sobbed, then slowly, he stopped. He stared at his floor without moving. He could hear the TV playing from downstairs, his father must’ve fallen asleep watching it. He felt something control his body, stumbling towards the door. His thoughts were nonexistent, like he wasn’t himself. He wasn’t Toby. Who was he.

Toby made himself through the hall, and down the stairs, and he felt the same hands from his dream. But this time, fear didn’t follow. Instead, comfort. The hands were warm this time, and Lyra’s voice played through his head. She comforted him, telling him everything was OK, that he was safe with her, as long as he listened to her. As long as he did exactly what she told him. He believed her.

Lyra stepped in front of him, skin repaired. She looked as if she was an angel, warm and golden. Her hand gently took Toby's, and she lead him to the kitchen. Smiling, she lead him to the counter, and pulled the drawer open.

“Take it, Toby, Take it. You want to, I know you do.”

Toby took the knife, holding it in his bandaged hands, staring at his reflection in the newly sharpened knife. It was clean, so very clean. His hands were shaking, but he wasn’t scared. He felt calm, comfortable, and safe. Something he longed for since her death. She gave him a soft smile, and he couldn’t see her eyes.

He followed her movements, walking through the kitchen and into the living room, where his father slept. Toby stood, staring at the older man. Toby couldn’t help but think about how ugly he was, how disgusting he looked. A neckbeard and a wife beater. He slept, stomach rising and falling. He looked like a cliche alcoholic. A hatred grew in Tobys chest, he felt it rise like bile and felt like he was going to throw up. He drew his eyebrows together in disgust, snarling quietly. Lyra stood next to him, and grabbed the hand that had the knife in it, pushing it close to Toby's chest. She continued to smile.

“Do it, I know you want to. You’ll feel better, You’ll feel safe.”

Toby believed her, and a smile crawled across his face. Never, never again, will he have to deal with his father. He will never see his mother get hurt, or beat, or screamed at. He’ll never feel his father's hands around his throat, or his knuckles against his face. His smile grew wide, and his eyes grew wild.

Toby let out a little giggle, and plunged the knife deep into Ron’s stomach, which woke him up immediately. He let out a howl, and grabbed Toby by his throat, tossing him to the ground. Stumbling up, then toppling over onto his knees. He grabbed the knife out of his stomach and slashed at Toby, cutting him on top of his thigh. Toby let out a loud yelp and grabbed his father by his hair, and threw him to the floor. Ron weakly reached for the knife.

“CONNIE!! CO-” He began coughing up blood, and inhaled to start screaming again. Toby wrestled the knife out of Ron’s hand, and won. He stabbed his father in the throat, then multiple times in the chest, stomach, and shoulders. Once Ron stopped moving, Toby sat on his body, breathing heavily and flapping his hands. It was quiet, so quiet. Lyra pet his hair. Then the silence was broke.

“TOBY!?” Connie screamed, she was in her pink robe and slippers. Eyes welling in tears “T-TOBY WHAT THE FUCK,” she screeched, she ran towards them.

“Run.” Lyra commanded. Toby backed away from the body, then ran through the kitchen, grabbing his hoodie, goggles, and mask, before running into the backyard. Connie chased after him, but wasn’t fast enough. She went for the next best thing, and grabbed the landline, dialing in 911.

Toby ran around the house and slammed open the gate, running into the garage, grabbing something to protect him and lyra with, an old red hatchet, a box of matches, and a gasoline tank. Then bolted out of the house. He stood at the front lawn for a few seconds, until he heard sirens. His stomach twisted and turned, and he felt giddy. Lyra pet his hair once again.

“We need to go.” She said calmly.

“Rig-right,” Toby swallowed hard. He kicked open the gasoline and lit a match. It spilled everywhere, getting on the grass and road, as he dumped it out all over his neighborhood. He threw the match down and ran as fast as he could. As he made it towards the forest, He tripped over a small cliff in the woods, falling and smashing his head upon a rock. He rolled down the hill and landed at the bottom, in a puddle of mud. His pants ripped, his arms cut up, the right side of his head bleeding. His vision went blurry, and he began to cry.

“LY-LYR-” he wheezed and sobbed, “LYRA.” was the only thing he was able to get out. He felt a cold, dead hand on his back, which promptly picked him up, his knees buckling and he almost falls, but something holds him up. The tentacles of the figure, the limbs. It stares at him, and he makes contact with it, brain going blank as he fell into warm nothingness. It glitched, squealing rang through his ears. But it was calm, it was nothing. Void.

The next thing Toby knew, was that he was outside a large mansion in the forest, the only thing he could remember was the murder of his father, a guardian angel, and his own name. All he knew was that he was never going to let anyone hurt him or his sister again.

#Ticci toby #toby erin rogers #tobias erin rogers #ticci toby origin story #toby roger #tobias rogers #creepypasta #crp #creepy pasta

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mlpdestinyverse · 6 years

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“Two Lies and A Truth”

Upon discovering that his mother Lightning Dust has restarted the cycle of rigorous, brutal flight training with his little sister Summer, Skychaser finds the courage to confront the controlling mare for his sister’s sake.

Feat: Skychaser

Story and Description Under The Cut!

Skychaser: How long has this been going on...?

-Within the living room of her home, Lightning turns around to find her teenage son standing behind her in the middle of the room. His stance is stiff and his orange eyes are practically blazing as they bore into her matching gaze-

Lightning Dust: -lets out a short mocking laugh- Months upon months of giving me the cold shoulder, and you finally come talk to me? What, is Equestria about to end-

Skychaser: -stomps his hoof and snaps- STOP! HOW LONG have you been training Summer?!

Lightning: -frowns in distaste- Ugh. Well, now I’m glad your father and sister are out right now. You’re causing a senseless scene as usual, boy.

Skychaser: -scowls- Answer. Me.

Lightning: Psh, a few days. But why should it matter? You dropped your training, remember? -mockingly- The whole ‘You’re a jerk and I don’t care about everything you’ve ever done for me’ business? Or did you forget?

-Skychaser’s wing feathers begin to ruffle. He recalls the sight he had caught when he had walked by the back door just hours before; his small sister, flying what was now to him a hellish inescapable trackwhile Lightning coached her below. He can remember freezing in place, cold fear and anxiety striking him as every memory, every occurence of being forced to practice until he was weak and bruised and praying for an escape, struck him all at one. And now, that anxiety is gripping him again-

Skychaser: -trying to control any shake in his voice; whether this shake is out of distress or anger is beyond him- Why are you doing this? Why are you putting herthrough this now? Why do you want to hurt her-

Lightning: -glowers at Sky, now appearing immensely irritated- Excuse me? When you saw her this morning, did she LOOK hurt? No. She was flying with that sunny little smile of hers on her face, because unlike you, apparently SHE has the passion and strength for flying. More than you ever had. -Huffs- Besides, she kept saying for years that she wanted to be an expert flier. A Wonderbolt, even! -places her hooves on her chest with a “kind” smile- I’m just trying to support her dream like a good mom.

Skychaser: -feels the pent up boiling ball of anger within him flare- “GOOD MOM” MY ASS, you’re exploiting it and you fuckin’ know it!

Lightning: ...hm. You know some pretty big words for a kid who’s fucking up his grades.

Skychaser: -and YOU gave her the Wonderbolts idea-

Lightning: Actually, her admiration of YOU gave her the idea. You may be a, well, disappointing ungrateful dropout, but it turns out your training wasn’t a complete waste of time. It helped me realize what little Sunny’s true destiny is...turns out you were just some trial and error I had to put up with to point me towards our real future pride~ -hums thoughtfully- And it helped me figure out a training method that’ll fulfil her dream and keep her happy.

Skychaser: -shakes head, his gaze icy- No...all you really want is for her to obediently live your old dream. Just like me.

Lightning: Psh. If we share the same dream, what’s the problem with giving her a little push?

Skychaser: -forces down his anxieties and scowls- Because I know you don’t really care about what she wants. YOU only want your own gratification. And after years of enduring your abuse, I know you’ll do and say anything to get what you want. Push her pass her limit, manipulate her feelings to follow your plan. Anything.

Lightning: -sneers- Wow, another big word... I was right. You’re a failure because you just refuse to try hard enough for anything, huh? No wonder you turned out this way. Nasty little brat that you are, ALWAYS overreacting and saying whatever shit you want to say.

Skychaser: -knows that she’s just trying to get a rise out of him- I know how you really are...and I won’t let my sister suffer because of you.

Lightning: -lets out a loud, empty laugh- SUFFER? Are you serious, Sky? Just how dramatic are you??

Skychaser: -turns away from her and begins his trek towards the stairs-

Lightning: What, going back to ignoring me?? I mean what, are you going to go tattle on me like a little boy, crying about how ”abusive” and absolutely mean his mommy is??

-Skychaser grits his teeth, but bears it and continues towards the steps. For a few hoofsteps he realizes his mom has gone quiet. A small moment of relief. Within his head he’s already forming the different things he can explain to Summer, the many ways he can discourage her from accepting Lightning’s training. The things he had kept to himself for years, unwilling to scare or confuse the young blissful filly. But now she was old enough. And now that the situation has changed, he couldn’t risk letting his mother hurt Summer too. No. He would never allow his sister to endure that pain. But just as he’s about to set a hoof on the first step, a single spoken sentence cuts through the air and straight into his chest, like a cold icicle stabbing through him-

Lightning: She’ll hate you, you know.

Skychaser: ….-struggles to keep going. As much as he wants to run away from Lightning’s mouth, he finds himself faltering. Faltering, until he simply places his hoof down and looks over his shoulder at her. Without him knowing, a flicker of hesitation crosses his face- ...what?

Lightning: -eerily calm, but with a sharp, knowing look in her eyes. She motions around her with her wings- We were all perfectly happy before you decided to force your pointless rebellious attitude here. You’ve done nothing but worry your sister, even with your weak attempts at saying ‘everything is fine’. Because it’s not fine. She’s not an idiot, Sky, she knows something is wrong with you.

So imagine, being brushed off and kept in the dark. But the moment she decides to do something for herself, and she takes up the training she’s been dreaming of, her dear distant big brother suddenly explodes and makes some extreme and exaggerated claims about her own family. “Why is he talking about this now? What took him so long? Why is he making such awful accusations?” Can you imagine what that’d look like?

Sky: -slowly shakes head- I...no, that’s-

Lightning: Summer FINALLY gets to have her mom’s undivided attention, and she’s happy and getting what she needs to achieve her little dream. And you want to take that away without a second of hesitation, Sky? I mean, what will you really gain from throwing all of your drama into her face? Her losing her spark and being filled with bitter hatred like you? Her appreciation? You really want to force that sweet little girl to choose sides and destroy her happy family and dream for that? Even I didn’t think you could be that selfish. But in that case...wouldn’t you be the one hurting her the most?

Sky: -feels a violent tremor go through him, his thoughts crashing and jumbling together- No, s-stop-

Lightning: You’ve seen her Sky! I’ve been taking care of her just fine and she’s never been more excited! So if you’re going to keep playing your stubborn game of teenage rebellion, then leave your poor sister out of it. She might fall for your little tantrum at first, but once she realizes how dramatic and miserable you really are? It won’t take her long to realize you’re not worth breaking our family apart over. If not that, then well, you’ll be forcing a little girl to carry your burdens. Who knows if she’ll forgive you for destroying her joyful world.

-Sky goes silent, and with satisfaction, Lightning can see that his gaze is unfocused and his shoulders are trembling, as if his very thoughts are consuming him-

Lightning: -casually shrugs, turning her back to him- But you can go ahead and try if you want, Sky. I’m just not sure if losing her love and respect is that worth it. So why not just let her be happy? After all...she’s just a kid.

Sky: -with rigid legs and a racing mind, he feels denial and fear wash over him- You’re wrong. You’re. Wrong.

-Sky turns away and rushes up the steps. He doesn’t want to think about Lightning’s words. He doesn’t want to see any truth in the cruel nonsense she has spouted. But despite his denial, a seed of doubt has rooted itself within his mind. And with full awareness of the effectiveness of her words on her weak-willed son, Lightning simply releases a sigh of relief.

As long as she plays things right, that ungracious colt could never ruin her and Summer’s goal. And she certainly was not going to forget what he did, disrespecting her and throwing away years of her effort. Whether he chooses to get in her way or not doesn’t matter. He’s going to ultimately feel the consequences. She’d make sure of it.-

The description of this one is long, but consider it an extension to the previous piece “Rift”, which you can refer back to. This story takes place a year or two before Rift, when Summer first started her training with Lightning.

Lightning’s words overtook Sky’s mind and emotions, filling him with paranoia and confusion. As expected from someone going through emotional abuse, he began to question if he really was overreacting. Maybe he was just weaker than his sister. But one glance at his mom’s smug face and her sugar-coated words towards Summer, along with her not-so-subtle attempts at drawing Summer away from Sky’s “influence” every chance she could, reminded him that no; his mom was just as manipulative and ambitious as he knew. He could see through her act. She didn’t care about bonding or letting Summer reach her own goals. No, she wanted to make sure she had a pupil to live out her old Wonderbolt dream. And she wanted her failed ex-pupil to feel her grudge.

Sky was aware of the image Lightning was painting of him - of being some bitter hate-filled rebellious teenager - whenever she was with Summer. And with every argument she and Dumbbell instigated, and every outburst he had in response, he only proved her right in their eyes.

And so, Sky felt so powerless.

He became a mixed bag of pent up frustration and depression and fear. Fear of Lightning’s predictions coming true, if he even dared to mention the truth to Summer. Over and over, he questioned if his sister would be okay, or if he would be ruining her happiness. That is, if he wasn’t already ruining it by being her “troublemaker” of an older brother. And so, all Sky could do as he struggled with his inner turmoil was keep his distance. Not that he had much of a choice, with Lightning keeping Summer away from him.

Sky felt utterly alone. He thought leaving his training would free him, but instead, he was trapped in a loop of arguments and ostracization, a loop of indecisiveness and isolation that kept him away from the one pony who meant the most to him; A punishment Lightning knowingly created to make him pay for wronging her.

Yes, he was trapped. That is...until the day of his disownment.

#Destinyverse #Lightning Dust #my little pony #Skychaser #mlp art #mlp #mlp oc #story

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krebstar · 7 years

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hey so like i feel absolutely silly doing this but it has been really rough and i’m not sure i can really Handle my mom anymore

this is mostly planning in advance but, i’m in a mentally abusive household and i really need out of it. however, i am a minor so i’m unable to for at least another year. i would really appreciate having the money to move out as soon as i can, which is why i’m making this post.

my paypal is here, and you can buy me a coffee here. i do commissions, too if you would prefer that.

more details about what’s going on are under the cut. it’s... really long but has like. everything i can remember, so.

so... this has been going on as long as i can remember (~10 years old or so). it used to be both of my parents, but my dad passed away and now it’s just my mom.

the earliest thing that i can remember is from the later years in elementary school (3-5th grade? around 8-10 years old?). my dad was terrifying when he was angry and was very loud, and my mom had a tendency of getting me in trouble, and then telling him how awful i was and she would have him yell at me for something he knew very little about (she would make him just jump into the conversation.) this was one of those times, and i was curled up on the floor with him yelling at me, and her standing over me. i remember afterward, i wrote something along the lines of “my happiness is ruined” or “i’ll never be happy” or something of the sort about.. not being happy, then i tore it to shreds.

around middle school (11-14 years) was where everything sort of picked up? my mom began to pick on me with constantly telling me i was breaking out, i looked bad, smelled bad, and so on and so forth. i asked her to stop numerous times and she refused to, laughing in my face whenever i asked. it started to make me feel bad about myself, and is the root of why i’m self conscious.

one day (7th grade) when she was telling at me for something i can’r remember, i told her “i hate myself because of you” and she replied “if you hate yourself because of me, you need to get a life.” thus, marking when i stopped telling her anything.

there was one time at a restaurant, where my mom wanted me to try and do the math for the bill. despite me refusing due to my math learning problems (possibly dyscalculia, but she refuses to get me tested), she continued to try and press it on me. when i continued to say no and got stressed and upset that she was trying to force me to do something i didn’t understand, she reacted badly. she told me that we were joking and laughing (we weren’t, she was very serious) and then told me that i had a “personal problem.”

my mom and i were at my grandma’s over the summer and she told me that she always jokes with me after arguments (meaning: she yelled at me a lot and made me have a panic attack) so i “get over it quicker” / “forget about it”

at one point laptop broke, and my mom called the people to send it in and get it fixed despite already taking her medicine (which wouldn’t have kicked in for another 30 minutes). I was grateful and thanked her, though i was still panicky and crying due to being so dependent on my laptop. i was yelled at for being in that state, and it was another instance when my dad yelled at me as i was curled up on the floor. he yelled at me for not being grateful when my mom called even though she took her medicine, and for some other stuff i can’t remember right. (i do remember pulling my hair hard and calling myself a horrible ungrateful daughter.)

one time when my dad and her were fighting (they were on a brink of a divorce before he passed away) she said that if i wasn’t around, that she would kill herself. she said that.. when i was right there in the other room with the door wide open.

(my dad was always neglectful of me, and never? really gave me the time of day to the point where i didn’t entrust that he could take care of me, and if he payed attention to me, he would just yell at me.)

in 8th grade, my dad passed away by drowning (i feel uncomfortable giving more details about that, if you need them you can PM me, but otherwise i won’t disclose the rest. i have a post about it in my archives somewhere as it was happening.) i grieved “weirdly” i suppose, i didn’t wish to hear the word “dad” or look at the river, let alone be around it. i didn’t want to talk about it with my mom, though i talked about it with my friends.

i continued to not to want to look at the river, and would refuse to, for a couple months. my mom didn’t like this at all and told me to “get over it” several times. and even though i asked her not to talk about him several times, she did anyway, constantly and always.

around freshman year things sort of.. escalated. the rest of this will be taking place from freshman year to current (14-16/almost 17). these might be out of chronological order, but ill try to keep them in order as much as possible. i started writing stuff down around here so im going to start off with the dated ones:

Saturday, January 9 2016: admitted to wanting to slap me Wednesday, January 20 2016: admitted to wanting to slap me Monday, February 22 2016: Oak Court mall in a dressing room: grabbed me by my shirt Wednesday, March 30 (6:00am): “You know one day in the morning you’re going to cop a little attitude and i’m just going to smack you.” (a minute afterward coming and saying she loved me) Monday, August 8th (5:36am) “if you give me a sarcastic attitude this early in the morning, I’ll end up smacking you in the face.” Wednesday, August 31st (9:41am) she was throwing an eraser at me, and when I was showing discomfort, she said “be glad I’m not throwing something bigger at you” and pretended to hit me with my tub of icing

August 9th, 2016: i suggested we leave so we can go feed the cats [that i was catsitting]. she didnt get that, and got mad at me for “never listening to her” because she wanted to feed the cats afterwards. she said i always get what i want, and she wants to get what she wanted. started talking about how i “lived a charm life” and i always “get what i want” and asked me what i “didnt have” and “nothing? yeah”

told her i was upset because i felt like she was so mad at something that wasn’t that big of a deal. the conversation below happened (her voice was slightly raised)

my mom: you always say i get upset with you for nothing me: when was the last time i did that? my mom: the last time we fought me: and when was that?? my mom: my mom: it doesnt matter

she started talking about how it was a problem i think i “always get what i want” and if i didnt think it was a problem that i had a “serious problem” with her. i started to be unresponsive, just looking ahead and replying with “okay” and not being on my phone. she started to try to talk to me, and turned on the radio station i like to listen to. she started to tell me she loved me. she apologized afterwards, and its the only time i can ever remember her apologizing for anything.

there was a time we got into an argument, she said that we “dont have [my] dad to be peacemaker,” completely ignoring that it was NEVER his role to be peacemaker, and that she only ever made him yell at me more.

she talked a LOT about my dad and how awful he was, and about their marriage problems. she told me at one point that her bipolar is so bad because my dad never had sex with her enough.

she attempted to have .... something with one of my really close friend’s dad at one point in time, in the past couple years or so. i walked in on them making out sometime. she wanted to date him-- and lied about it-- and he didn’t because he was a bit weirded out because my dad had still somewhat recently passed away. she cried for a whole 24 HOURS, ignoring sleeping time, about him and about how much she missed my dad, but never let me grieve in my own way.

we were at perkins when the subject of dating was brought up and i told her i was uncomfortable with it (it hadnt even been a year, or had just been a year or something) and she told me, again, to “get over it”

and, then, she got her boytoy (who we’ll call larry) and successfully got (and still has) a friend with benefits. she lied to me a long time, and told me that they weren't together or anything despite them fucking while i was home, and NOT being silent about it, either. i eventually told her i knew and that it made me uncomfortable that they had sex while i was at home. she told me to get over it at first, that i always got everything i asked for, so on and so forth.

after a while, and me continuously asking her not to have sex while i was home because i already walked in on her once, she told me that it was her house and that her friends couldn’t “believe the audacity [i] had asking her not to fuck while im home” and she.. hasn’t stopped. ive actually found her bondage gear recently.

(sidenote on larry: hes... really disgusting. he watched one of my friends take a shower while she was over, and when i told my mom that she said “well not everyone is perfect.”)

and then... the night that prompted me to start this post, which happened october 8th. she left me home alone for ~30hours (and i only saw her for 2 of those), which... i had already told her numerous times that i dont like to be home alone at night because it causes my delusions to act up and makes me very paranoid. on the third night she was gone, i texted her a handful of times asking how she was because i hadn’t seen her, and i missed her (a novel concept) and.. that was apparently the wrong thing to do.

she came home at 2am that night and started to ask me why i could never be home alone and making it way deeper than it actually needed to be. she called me a coward for my delusions, selfish, and told me that she didn’t think i was going to be a functioning human being. she told me that im faking my mental illnesses because i want an excuse to be scared (which ill get into later*) and refused to acknowledge the research i had done on these mental illnesses. at one point she was guilt tripping me, and i gave in and admitted it was my fault... and then she..? guilt tripped me? for that. she said that i was just “saying that to make [her] feel bad.” she told me that i was making up my mental illness symptoms by telling me that they’re.... “in [my] head” and that i cant be mentally ill because ive stood up for myself twice. (the only reason that i’ve stood up for myself is because the things that were happening were very hazardous to my health and i was close to killing myself)

i had been sleeping in her room because my air conditioning upstairs wasnt working and it was too hot to exist up there at all, and so i packed the items i brought down with me, and was moving to go upstairs. she forced me to stay downstairs because i was “running away from the conversation” (which ill also get into later**) and forced me to stay the night downstairs. after the conversation was said and done, she returned and told me “do you ever think your delusions and hallucinations are overactive imagination because of your ocd and you think of the worse possible scenario when you hear a noise?” which is...not how anything works.

the following morning, she was EXTREMELY petty and wouldnt let me leave her side since “i missed her so much!!” and continued to force me to spend time with her and refused to let me on my laptop or phone. she started to yell at me again (which i cant really remember what she said, but she called me selfish for.. wanting her around?)

BONUS CONTENT :) aka stuff that i wasnt able to put in to keep it chronological

my mom has always threatened to ground me because of crying (though she said she would “never ground me because it would ground [her] too”) and im basically... not allowed to feel anything but happy, because if i express any other emotion it always results in her yelling at me for some reason.

*she gladly admits that i inherited OCD from my dad (who had an extreme case, as well as almost my dad’s whole entire family) but refuses to admit that i also inherited psychosis from her. ive brought up that im pretty sure i have DPDR, but she also refuses to even learn what it is and tells me that im just faking it. she won’t get me help, and says she won’t.

**my mom walks away whenever she doesnt get her way in an argument. she has left me in the middle of a museum in another state (not without shouting “fuck you” at me from across the room first), in the middle of a parking lot for at least 5 minutes, walked out of my grandma’s house twice, and then walked away from me another time downtown (thankfully i was with a friend.)

she shits on literally anything i enjoy. we go to the movies, i show her shows, i talk about things i like and she always has to find something she hated about it. even when she cant find anything specific, she replies with “eh it was okay” and doesn't fake it to ever let her child enjoy something. i always feel bad immediately after. the most recent example i can think with this is seeing moana with her.

if anything Major Happens(tm) ill probably reblog this and add it on, but until then.................. yeah

#donation #donation post #abusive mother #abusive parents #idk what to tag this as lol #i feel dumb as HELL doing this but whatever i guess #be quiet kool kat

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mnovenia · 7 years

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TRUST HIS HEART

There’s nothing TRUE-er than following the path that Jesus has prepared for us. Recently, in my confusion, bitterness, so-caught ungratefulness, pre-winter syndrome, whatever you can call, I was doubting God’s grand plan.

Yesterday I officially got confirmation from Anglia Ruskin University about the acceptance of my dual degree program in Cambridge. I still can’t believe that I’ll be going to the UK, a country that I’ve been dreaming of, ever since I love John Terry, Love Actually, Alexa Chung, WAGs, Burberry, CHELSEA FC, and so many things of that country that’s worth to love. I still have quite a lot to prepare: visa, accomodation, Erasmus+ grant announcement, and so on. But I’m praying that God will make a way if He really wants me to go.

Another news that suddenly boost my energy is I got my first score from a subject that I’m most nervous about. My heart was beating so crazy when the lecture announce that she will send an individual email in an hour. She also mentioned the score range is 3 - 8, median: 5.5. I was like GOD *jumping around the corner, swinging around the room, going to the toilet, trying to calm down and concentrate to make my assignment, but I just can’t help it. I was so nervous, I said God, I don’t know my position is, 2 of my smart classmates are failed, another Dutch friend got only 4.3, etc. God, I’m not ready to see a bad result, I’m not ready to encounter a failure, I only ask for His will be done (but forcing not the one that I consider as bad). Moreover my other Indonesian friends got perfect score of 8 and 7.6. I feel I like I’m way so behind them and won’t be able to catch up on their grades. But I promise that I come here with such expectation, for my God’s glory, for my country, for people that have been supporting me, so I don’t want to disappoint them :’’’((

After an hour I still didn’t receive any result. I emailed my professor personally, and she said that she didn’t received my assignment. I was so freak out, but I send her the proof. Then suddenly, I get even more panic. Few minutes later, she got back to me with the result, turn out that I earn 7.6 out of 8. I feel so relieve but also can’t thank God enough for this gift. He is truly trustworthy, even for things like my grades, He cares and bless those whose hope is in Him. And we can trust Him.

From this I learn to see God’s plan in another perspective, in a different way of thinking, with a different energy that God has given. My prayer is just God will continue to humble me, keep my feet on the ground, not being satisfied so easy and arrogant toward those whose grade are below me. Because on the other hand I know that it’s not a matter of grade only, our lives are far greater than that. But rather, to point every victory to the giver of this life. So God, may Your spirit continue to guide me to finish the race that you are preparing. ILOVEYOUSOMUCH, Lord. I can’t do anything without You, but with You all things are possible. THANK YOU JESUS!

One song has been popped up in my head all over again on the next morning, on a chill sunny day:

All things work for our good

Though sometimes we don't see

How they could

Struggles that break our hearts in two

Sometimes blind us to the truth

Our Father knows what's best for us

His ways are not our own

So when your pathway grows dim

And you just don't see Him,

Remember you're never alone

God is too wise to be mistaken

God is too good to be unkind

So when you don't understand

When don't see His plan

When you can't trace His hand

Trust His Heart

He sees the master plan

And he holds our future in His hand,

So don't live as those who have no hope,

All our hope is found in Him

We see the present clearly

But He sees the first and the last

And like a tapestry He's weaving you and me,

To someday be just like Him

He alone is faithful and true

He alone knows what is best for you

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wrotetheaboveoftoday · 4 years

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1833 Thurs. 21 March

5 50/.. 11 20/.. L L fine frosty morning Fahrenheit 46º at 5 50/.. and 33 1/2 at 6 20/.. outside my window - just looked into last nights Courier, and out at 7 1/4 some time (10 minutes) with John seeing about wood for a doorway from Godley road into my new road - then down the N.G. [new grade] and by the old Bradford bank to Holt's in 1/2 hour - then 1/2 hour - back by High Sunderland and Sourmilk hall - some time with Nathaniel walking up between Godley road and my new road and home along the wood at 9 1/4 -

Breakfast with Marian - staid telling her what I had done at Holt's till 10 3/4 - then 3/4 hour with my aunt - Holt said now that Hinscliff's pit was filled up and there was no competition Mr. Rawson meant to have my coal at half the price he had had agreed to give before for now they had me quite fast - Holt said he had said nothing but thought perhaps they were mistaken - yes! said I, I think so too - H- [Holt] said I could not sink a pit down to them for want of air - and that if I got up to there from Trough of Bolland wood, it would be expensive and I could loose no coal by it - but the best way would be to draw an open tail up all the way from Pump land from down below near Mytholm and that that would not be money thrown away for it would loose all the upper bed left in Pump land, and all that in Upper place land - but then there would be a great pithill -said I should not mind that when it was my own doing and in my own hands - I could manage it - plant it out in something - 'well! said H- [Holt], it will grow nothing' - (thought I I can save the soil from Brierly hill road for it, and I can neutralize the pyrites in some way or other by the help of a little Paris chemistry) -

'You had better consider of it - no! no! said I, I have considered long enough - I am determined to do the job - so put out handbills for letting it - H- [Holt] thinks I shall do it for £200 - this open-tail (or galloway-gate) or large drift cost 8/. a yard but thinks mine may be done at 6/. - then there will be rails to buy, but those are cheap now - there will surely be about 400 yards to drive - thinks I have done nothing but right to Mr. Rawson but that I have been queerly used - H- [Holt] to come on Monday morning - said I had determined to try for water at Lower brea house end - H- [Holt] to see about that too - did not seem inclined to boring, but said Pickels could do it well enough for that little depth - does not think the water will be very cankery when exposed to day a little - will be the same as theirs which having stood a little in the well is covered with green (confervæ) -

Came to my room at 11 1/2 and wrote the above of today - then shewed my aunt the maps and plans to Scrope's central France and out at 1 1/2 - to Charles Howarth’s to order doorway from Godley road into my new road - some time watching the progress of my library table then Washington's young man came to consul[t] me about the plan - had him into the house at old Charles H-'s [Howarth's] then talking to old Charles about thermometer Centigrade and Fahrenheit - one and about a walking stick barometer - he has 2 in hand - shall not differ about the price -

Then to John Oates's to order a blow pipe to be blown by a ball full of air such as affixed to an airgun - long while talking to John, all about the coals, and the agreement being off with Mr. Rawson explained - J.O. [John Oates] - saw no sufficient reason for R-'s [Rawson's] objection to the terms of the agreement - said I was all for driving a galloway gate, had seen Holt this morning, and in fact ordered it beginning - did not say it was Holt's plan, but said he did not seem much against it - J.O. [John Oates] said it would loose very little coal, and would altogether cost a guinea a yard - said Holt was coming on Monday and should talk to Jno [John] about it - well! said J.O. [John Oates] I can take the level, and we can soon see what you can loose that way - better set up a small engine at Tilley holm gate into the wood - but would not be full enough with out letting the wheel be sunk, and the water run down into the works and thus miss mytholm mill - said I could get 30 feet of level, as it was - well! that would do - but said if I applied to the Lord chancellor he would give me an order to go into R-'s Rawson's upper bed works (sure I could make out a case of suspicion strong enough that they might be getting my coal) and it would not cost me above £5 - or if I sunk a pit in Brierley hill just above the pit in the waste just filled up, it would not be above 30 yards to the upper bed, and would be done for £30 -

It was 4 p.m. before I left Jno [John] O-'s [Oates'] on returning saw 5 men at the fish pond - went up to know what was the matter - they were looking to see if they could get stone there for the road! angry - said there was none that I knew of, and if there was they should not get it, if I could help it - it was a very unhandsome thing coming in that way - they should have come to the house and said what they wanted - should learn to do as they would be done by - would break up a persons very garden for that was the next thing to it - spoke very sharply - knew none of them but Skelton, the deputy surveyor - they all walked off as quick as they could and I turned up to the Conery and to Park farm -

Booth's men doing the house [end] up that was burnt - saw a street post that with one at the hall would do for the doorstead - came home - found Charles and his son busy making a wood doorstead - called John from hedge dressing at the top of Trough of Bolland wood, and William put Rose into the cart, and we took the 2 posts down to the spot - then went to the Brierley hill road cutting some time with Pickels - the 5 men were old Waddington, Joseph Hirst and Jerry Scholefield of Southowram - P- [Pickels] had seen them and gone to them and finding what they were about said 'they would catch it if I happened to see them' -

Home by the Conery at 6 3/4 - dinner at 7 in 1/2 hour - then in an hour wrote and sent 3 pp. [pages] and ends to 'Mrs. Lawton (of Lawton hall) Leamington, Warwickshire' - chit chat - thought she had done right to engage her new housekeeper from Lady Dormer even tho' a [Roman?] [cast?ls] - if really likely to part with both her housemaids hoped she would remember my protigé Martha Booth - could not say she knew much at present - but she would be teachable, steady, and obliged and I did not think Watson would have to tell her anything twice - only 18 but steady as if 28 - would be thankful to be put in any capacity - might soon make a trustworthy, valuable servant - I would willingly pay her expense to Leamington - glad of me in having a horse - begged her to take care of herself and let me see her looking her best and hoped she would be at home when I was ready to pass that way - never to have any more uneasiness about me - had not for years been so calmly and steadily happy - hoped and trusted I should never again be so ungrateful to heaven as to breath of discontent - longed for M- [Mariana] to see how much I was improved - more and more aware of my own powers and resources and thankful to that reeling power that gave us all more good things than we deserved - She M- [Mariana] saw the last of the old [leaven] when last here - from that time I had set myself seriously to the work of consideration and had improved ever since - never to think of me but in comfort - 'God bless you, Mary! I am always anxious about you, and always very entirely and especially yours AL- [Anne Lister]'

Wrote the last 41 lines and went into the other room at 9 1/2 - skimmed over the courier and came upstairs at 10 25/.. at which hour Fahrenheit 45º - finish cold day - occasional Night flying snow showers particularly since about 10 a.m.

[In Margin] Letter tonight from Miss Bolland - being a receipt for the 3 months interest (£12.10.0) sum to herself and sister which she would be obliged to me to pay to her (Miss Bolland) -

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #1833 #shibden march 1833

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abbythoughts · 5 years

Text

I’m tired of being your daughter.

I’m tired of living under your control. Home? It’s never been a home. More like a house where people come and go but haven’t you realised how nobody is happy under this roof?

I feel mentally drained and there are a lot of things in my life that have developed because of who you are as a person, and how that has affected my growth as an adult. I’ve sought professional help but do not have the financial resources to continue seeking therapy.

When Luke mentioned that he had anxiety issues and you shrug it off? The truth of the matter is I too have anxiety issues and really, it’s no surprise there considering someone at home has it and is refuse to treat it thus implicating it onto others in the environment. I have a legit personality disorder because of my environment and it really is not healthy to continue living in this environment. Here are some issues that I’ve faced that has greatly affected me and my living in this place.

1. You don’t respect me: My Career It’s really not funny, nor is it a joke when I say that business is not good this season. And you just comment, “Ya that’s why I tell you go get a REAL job“ or like when I don’t eat dinner because I work “YA LA if you get a REAL job I won’t have all these problems”

A REAL JOB. You don’t respect my career choice. Respecting doesn’t mean you have to accept it, but respecting it means you DO NOT MAKE such comments, neither do you need to constantly give advice on what I should and should not do. I REALLY DO NOT NEED IT. You are unable to show empathy and you wonder why I don’t empathise with you.

Just because I’m not the ideal daughter that get good grades, got a good job after uni blah blah blah. I know you talk shit about me to others, and I really don’t need that kind of toxicity in my life

2. You don’t respect me: My life choices & boundaries

By not respecting my life choices, what I choose to do in life, what I want to do in my life, my space and my choices including my religion and relationship choices - you are not allowing me to be who I want to be.

It is extremely distressing, once again same thing. Respecting doesn’t mean you have to accept it, but respecting means you do not make unnecessary comments, or your unnecessary behaviour and way you respond to how I spend my time or who I spend it with it’s really not need and it’s beyond rude. I’ve only gotten mean, and in your words “disrespectful” because I am only trying to protect myself and my mental state. I also believe that if I don’t feel respected, I shouldn’t give respect. It is so degrading to live in this environment and everyone around me e.g my friends can actually sense, see and have witnessed the change in my mental state ever since I’ve moved back home from Uni.

I think I’ll never forget the night where I was ironing my graduation gown and I burned myself and you scolded me, and said I cry until very poor thing but i brought it on to myself? Yes, so what? You didn’t have to point it out to me. Thanks to your scolding, that night I actually felt like COMMITTING SUICIDE. I actually felt like DYING BECAUSE my life is so shitty and I really don’t and didn’t need the negativity that you constantly perceive onto others.

3. You don’t respect me: My room but it’s YOUR HOUSE

You constantly barge in and honestly, I was very very very disturbed when you just open the room door when I’m changing thus I put the sign on the door. But yet, you did it again when you wanted to wake me up and ask me to join you for lunch.

I’m really not interested to join you guys for lunch when I’m asleep. There is a reason why I am still asleep and it is not for you to decide it by opening the door and waking me up just because you want to eat lunch with me. That’s not caring for me, that’s not “I wake you up cause tot u want to join us for lunch“. That’s what you think but that’s the truth of the matter. What you think is not the best but you always think that you are right, “I only concerned for you what”

That right there is a narcissistic thought. If you were really concerned about me, and you respected me, you would not have disturbed me while I’m sleeping, you would not have freely open the door as and when you like just because this is your house.

On top of that, you don’t wake luke up for lunch when he’s sleeping cause you’re afraid he will scold you. But how come you can do it to me? Then when I fight back or am unhappy, i get shouted at but NEVER have I ever seen you shouting at luke when you accidentally wake him or you wake him. You will rapidly apologise like mad. So why is there this difference in treatment here

4. You don’t respect me: I’m not your friend or your husband or a third parent, I’m your child

Don’t dump your emotional shit on me from your unstable relationship with dad. That is not my issue to solve and I hate how you make it mine by constantly telling it to me or in your words “ranting” to me.

In fact, this has been an issue ongoing for so long and you do not understand how much unnecessary stress you are putting on me. Yes you need someone to support you and stuff but that person is NOT ME. In fact, while I was still attending church, I had to do so much healing in this aspect because of you and daddy’s marriage. If you really wanted to, you would have gone to your pastor and solved it by attending marriage counselling or whatever. But because you refuse to, or have yet to or for whatever reasons, it really is putting unnecessary burden and stresses on me that really impact my mental health.

I’m not interested in listening to your stuff because once again, you don’t respect me, and you don’t listen to my stuff WITHOUT giving me unsolicited advice that I do not need.

5. Expectations: at home

You expect this that and this and that. What do I mean? Really simple put in some examples, Cleaning the house:

Even when we clean, you will reclean because it’s not good enough. Then you complain we don’t help you

Every time we attempt as something, it’s never “good enough“ by your standards, you think it’s not done properly and it’s honestly really freaking tiring. We try to help, but you just put it down. So why would anyone want to help if even if we help all we get is shit in return?

You always have something to say, and it’s nothing that it’s positive or appreciative. And then you say nobody appreciates you at home? Because in all of our attempts to try to help or be better, neither have you ever appreciated a single attempt of ours and that’s why.

6. Narcissistic Parenting: and it has affected my growth going into adulthood

Below are some excerpts from great articles I’ve read over the years:

“It’s clear that there are hundreds of thousands of people around the world who were raised by at least one narcissist, and it wreaked havoc on their self-esteem, their feelings of well-being and safety, and their confidence and courage. Being raised by a narcissist gives rise to a belief throughout our lives that we are just not “good enough” despite everything we try and bending over backwards to please others.

And it damages your boundaries, which are the invisible barriers between you and your outside systems that regulate the flow of information and input between you and these systems. These damaged boundaries thwart your ability to communicate authentically and powerfully, and taint your own self-concept, which in turn damages your relationships and your capability to thrive personally and professionally in the world. Most adult children of narcissists never get the help they need to recover and heal, because they have no idea that what they’ve experienced as children is unhealthy and destructive.”

https://www.forbes.com/sites/kathycaprino/2016/07/09/how-being-raised-by-a-narcissist-damages-your-life-and-self-esteem/#754c9dd92c67

Engulfing Narcissists — these are parents who see their children as extensions of themselves. In other words, engulfing narcissistic parents become obsessively involved in your life to an extreme extent. They don’t respect your boundaries or acknowledge you as a separate person. (https://lonerwolf.com/narcissistic-mother-father/)

Manipulation:

Guilt trip: “I’ve done everything for you and you’re so ungrateful.”

Blaming: “It’s your fault that I’m not happy.”

Negative comparison: “Why can’t you be as good as your brother?”

Love is given as a conditional reward, rather than the natural expression of healthy parenting.

Dr. Christiane Northrup, the author of Dodging Energy Vampires, describes what can happen when you have a long-term relationship with a narcissist. Eventually, it emotionally drains you to the point that it can lead to other issues, even those affecting your health.

“The same is true for you. If you are in a relationship with an energy vampire, you may be able to withstand the energy drain for a while, but eventually the relationship takes its toll. And, I’m not just talking about feeling a little emotional or drained. There can be serious health consequences when you are in an unbalanced relationship with an energy vampire. In my decades on the front lines of women’s health, I’ve seen people suffering from adrenal fatigue, chronic Lyme disease, irritable bowel syndrome, thyroid disorders, an inability to lose weight, diabetes, breast cancer, autoimmune disorders and so-called mystery illnesses.”

In fact, I have read countless of such articles and sadly, I relate to them so much it’s unbelievable. I am always SO EMOTIONALLY DRAINED at home, even tho Home is supposed to be a comforting place.

I have low self-esteem, and even though I’ve had many success in my life, I never feel good enough. My friends always ask me why because they all think that really, i’m not doing terribly. I’m also deeply insecure, overly-sensitive and unable to make decisions - all symptoms of a child of a narcissistic.

True love:

Is loving someone without wanting something back. Wanting the best for the person yet being able to respect the person and their boundaries.

I felt like I was brought up to support you in your old age or to help you perceive an image of some sorts. And that’s fine but when it feels like that’s my only purpose in life, get a good job and money to give to them, it really feels depressing. Life itself feels depressing.

For me:

I am a separate being from you. You don’t get to have a say in how I live as an adult even as I slowly transit into adulthood. Your life is not my life, I am not responsible for your actions your thoughts and your decisions or the way you want to live your life. I am responsible for my own actions and decisions and way of life.

I cannot change you but I can focus on myself and focusing on myself also includes cutting toxicity out of my life which includes trying to block toxic people out of my life.

Moving out:

You think I want to move out just because it’s cool? No. It’s because going no contact and moving out is the only way I can recover. It’s the only way I can be me and who i really am without a negative impact in my life.

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antonero2016 · 7 years

Text

my birthday’s tomorrow yaaaaayyyyyy

I went into an existential crisis that’s made me high strung for about a week or two and to tried to ignore it by working myself even more stressed with character creating for Acreon to the point I had to have my friend hold my sheet of character information hostage until I’m in a better state

gonna go into a big talk below the cut it will touch upon some heavy stuff and drug talk, suicidal talk, and familial abuse/issues so avoid the read more if you would rather keep out of it or are sensitive to it I just... feel like I wanna get this off my chest

so for as long as I could remember I’ve had a tough life so buckle up for my life story:

since I was young my parents had issues I’m not entirely sure about details because I honestly have had such a hard time taking my parents’ word for it while growing up

my parents only married because I was on the way and my mom’s family pushed her to marry my dad because of old school values

my mom didn’t have her parents around while growing up so she is practically obsessed with what she believes is good for me while believing her efforts are doing good when in reality it’s done nothing but harm for me

my dad, as much as I love him, does not have a good history and I vividly recall my mom’s side of the family saying how much they hated him openly around me

my dad had a few children from a previous marriage and before meeting my mom he had left a previous girlfriend that wanted to get married which turned out resulted in another child after he left

my home life was fraught with difficulties from an early age and my parents constantly fought (it would even get physical) and I remember my dad “falling asleep” on the floor of the bathroom so many times (I later discovered that according to my mom he was on drugs and may have been trying to kill himself I’m not entirely sure about this part honestly)

one of my earliest learned Tagalog phrases was “fuck you” because my parents often threw it at each other

my dad had a hard time holding a job from my memory and my mom was practically our sole income so my mom was often tired and overworked with graveyard shifts at the hospital while my dad watched over me most of the time I actually remember staying up late to see my mom off when she left for her shift

at some point my father had gotten arrested and sent to jail or prison I’m honestly not sure which it was technically or what exactly it may have been for but I know in the very early morning/middle of night my mom would wake me up and take me there to visit even on school days

this kind of stuff didn’t affect me well you could imagine, I developed bad habits like sleeping really late and I remember very early on saying I never wanted to be born or talked of killing myself as early as 4th or 3rd grade I think it was so long ago and I never thought back to any of this until recently

I feel like my most prominent memories were around kindergarten and sometime when I started middle school what happened between it is more of a blur

I do remember however that both my parents regarded each other with a very unhealthy level of suspicion, my mom suggesting that my dad rigged or ruined her car while my dad even said things with the TV were my mom’s fault

I don’t remember what exact point in my life this was but I do know I was in elementary school still and recall my dad locking the door of the bedroom on my mom with me in there with him because they were having a fight again only this time my mom retaliated by taking a hammer and bashing in the doorknob until the door gave and a struggle before she smashed our computer screen and I remember myself cowering on the other side of the bed because it was just so horrifying to me with the yelling and then the smashing of glass

in late elementary school my dad cheated on my mother and took me to live with him, his lover, and her kids and I enjoyed it decently enough the apartment was nice and I liked having something like “siblings” when I was so used to being alone as a child

of course though my mom didn’t like any of this and tried to get me back as much as possible and I remember clearly a point at night where she found me and my dad in the driveway and screamed at me in tears that I was “stabbing her in the back”

I also remember her accusing my dad of molesting me for some reason which was not true at all and luckily never took off as an accusation

while what my dad was shitty I would honestly choose him over my mom because I was never close to her and things like the “stabbing in the back” comment always stuck to me and she had a bit of an emotionally manipulative/abusive streak in her for a long time and would even take her frustrations towards my dad on me (and both my parents were old school and preferred physical punishments nothing too bad but it still hurt) and my mom’s favorite thing to say to me was “you’re just like your dad!” almost constantly because I always took after him more in looks, personality, and so much and my preference for him didn’t help me at all

my dad’s patience could wear thin and he was a bad drunk but he was always the more calm and understanding of my parents while my mom was borderline controlling especially in my teen years

at some point my mom had bought me a netbook laptop and that was fun for a while but she and I were constantly at odds at that point in life because I was in the angsty and bitchy teen phase while she was, well, her

I liked to drown out things with music a lot and was rather jumpy whenever touched or not given a warning of some kind to get my attention and it often ended in me snapping unintentionally from shock/fear and my mom would always get angry at me for doing so and once she had taken the laptop from me and thrown it across the room and as you can figure it didn’t survive

my mom also constantly had the need to demand to see what I was doing if I started acting “suspicious”

at some point my parents got back together and things finally calmed between them while things only began to get worse between me and my mom due to differing opinions and values while my dad was more readily accepting to it all and I was getting rather depressed and anxious at that point in life and for the record I had learned what autism was at some point and felt I always fit the description or some variation of it once I did (I would like to state I’m not fond of self-diagnosis I feel it’s fine to feel you have something but you should always get a professional’s diagnosis first)

my mother however would constantly affirm that I was “normal” and so I wasn’t diagnosed until a couple years back so very recently and I can’t help but wonder if life would’ve been easier if I had been given the necessary help and diagnosis earlier on

this is where things become primarily me vs mom

once there was a time in high school where my partner for a Spanish class assignment canceled so I was reasonably upset because we needed to do it real bad and when I locked myself in my room for a bit to sulk my mom tried to get in and questioned why I locked the door and simply said “leave me alone” very miserably and for some reason that set her off and she yelled at me for being ungrateful and managed to get my door open while yelling angrily as I was contacted my dad at his work in a panic because she was really scaring me and I didn’t need this but as I was on the phone with him she grabbed my cellphone from me and of course ended the call which set my dad off and he immediately dropped everything he was doing to scramble back home to save me from my mother’s wrath however he worked a long ways off so in the time of his trip back I was so upset I decided to leave the run away because “fuck this” and my mom caught me as I was trying to sneak out and she just retorted “GO THEN” without a damn care so I ran off while my aunt we lived with tried to follow me but I gave her the slip

I had nowhere to go and no one to contact without my phone because I have trouble memorizing numbers so I just walked and walked until I made my way to the local library and checked out a book and stayed there until it had to close fo the day

eventually I called my aunt with a payphone because I knew it wasn’t smart to be out late like this (and also because she was the only number I knew off the top of my head) and begged her not to contact my mom and only my dad and eventually my dad did find me be unluckily my mom was with him and she hugged me crying which made me break down and tell her how much she had upset me and her reply was something along the lines of “you just made me so mad” and I think at that point a piece of me died because I realized that no matter the situation she will never see anything as her own fault or even partially her fault because what she said translated to “it was your own fault”

best thing is she’s completely forgotten about that whole incident and has overwritten the memory with a time my dad drove me out for being atheist/agnostic (I’m honestly undecided which one I technically am)

(”don’t you remember that time you made me run away” “no that was your dad remember” “...”)

at least that incident was resolved and my dad no longer forces me to go to church and we’re still on good terms now

oh and for a while after the time she made me run away she started to affirm that if I tried it again I’d be arrested because I now had a “record” since they had called the police that time and I just think to myself “I’m PRETTY damn sure that’s now how the law works”

things have been relatively calm these days but my mother and me still butt heads and there was a time where she triggered me into a suicidal state that I luckily didn’t do anything to myself during such but I had a very strong urge to leave and walk into traffic or go to a highway overpass and jump

I kept myself as together as I could with a friend’s help on a chat and contacted my dad who printed out a description of my condition (Asperger’s syndrome to be exact) and came right home to go off at my mother for not being more accommodating and understanding to my issues because she constantly believed for the longest time that I was perfectly “normal” and didn’t have any form of autism spectrum disorder until it was told right to her face by a professional that I was diagnosed and even now she affirms that I’m “normal” and that I’m still higher-functioning and so very smart even with that issue but the thing is those “facts” don’t erase the fact that I have this condition that she refuses to understand or help with even in the slightest (she replies with ”do you want me to praise you and say everything is okay?!” whenever I ask for her to be a bit more accommodating or understanding)

and now we finally reach to now where she and I still have trouble because she refuses to even see things from my point of view

not to mention just a year or two ago my dad bought a new car that I’ll admit we really needed but he bought those fancy cars which he claims was his “dream car” and it put us back with debt

things were easy to handle for the longest time but recently things have gotten so much harder and on top of that I was denied grants for financial aid last year because of “information on my FAFSA application” so we were set back more and I had to take a break from college to try to wait out the financial issue but it has only gotten worse and then there was a policy change for FAFSA where I believe they use the information from the year before last rather than last year’s which I believed would just yield the same results so I decided to just not even bother this year and take a break for the whole year where I could try again in 2018 but now my parents are trying to pressure me back into school when we can barely afford groceries to last us the next shopping trip while constantly assuring me that we can handle it which I do not believe at all because school supplies and textbooks are expensive

so here I am finally, turning 21 on November 18th

if you bothered to stick around to the end of this whole rant/vent: thank you and let’s hope I have an easier year before my 22nd birthday

#antonetalk #vent #sort of #partially a rant too #sorry

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amazingjackthefactfinder-blog · 7 years

Text

It has begun. The blog that will bust the doors wide open.

I’m sure you’ve heard of muck raking and I am not one for buck taking so the buck stops here. I am going out into the world to finally once and for all get to the bottom of all the nonsense and do some cold hard journalism. Pie a la mode style. Meaning i may have a cold creamy gal riding on top of my crisp apples... but watch out she bites. She is one icy B and a half. Nevertheless I will go on to announce that as a promise to my never ending ever growing swarm of listeners I never sacrifice my integrity for a back alley handy and a warm plate of dessert. One other thing I would like to mention is that my theme songs will be extensions of my soul and eventually will amass to form a discography intent on making any record collection obsolete whether it be a slew of Blondie and Barbara Streisand Albums or the record collection owned by Kenny “The Tits” Daffledinger. When asked why they call him “The Tits”, “The Tits” replied “Well Jack, I’m what you could call a connoisseur. I don’t buy nothin’ unless it makes this phrase pop out of my mouth, ‘Oh lawdy lawdy I do declare these be the tits what my eyeballs oogly googly googling at’ I must say that 8 or 9 times a week, and that’s just while I’m out with my grandma. I am also a certified fan of the female anatomy particularly of the booby area so I’m goin’ for a 25% tranny swap under the hood if you know what I mean.” I reply, “No Kenny, but go on, I am enthralled.” Kenny adamantly exclaims, “Well tell me this now Jack, WHY is it that girls get to have sweater puppies when my apartment complex wouldn’t even let me have a pet rock. WHY is it that man has not yet evolved to lactate? AND WHY have you never just racked on a pair of 36 C donkey pillows and gone with the partial sex change. Aint got shit now Jack where are your answers? Well ill tell you what, my chesticles will never see the light of day with you in the room that much is for sure. These are my Tits. I am The Tits. My tits are the Tits so call me Tits, remember... The one with the bangin butterscotch hard candy nipples.” And that was all “The Tits” was willing to share with us that day he said something about pollen in the air and ran off to get some alkaline water from the water store just adjacent of the senior citizen version of hooters, droopies on Mackeral Blvd.

An introductory message and guarantee of service by The Amazing Jack himself.

This is the Amazing Jack reporting for reporter duty. This is my Manhattan Project. An adventure so death defying and deplorable yet heart warming and soul filling it will shape the fate of the world in the same fashion Chicken soup for the Soul gave you a faster decision on what to read while dropping brown. Remember Heroes live forever. But legends never die. And the hallowed reporters creed states “Never shy away from a task so daunting it seems like trying to floss a lion’s back molar when the lion is suffering from a toothache.” (Reporter Creed: subsection 34N-fi-alpha-4) Danger and a story so juicy you’ll be asking if this is an expose on Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit gum. But thats far from the case this path on which we are about to embark is something much more life threatening and repulsive. And we reporters get off to that shit. So to recap Heroes forever, legends immortal. Reporters? They just inject the Novocaine and root canal that overgrown house cat till our restless minds are at peace once more.

With great power does not come great responsibility in reality alongside great power comes manslaughter government corruption and if youre lucky a sweet chopper with a wicked amount of horsies pumpin through the engine. All of which I have leads on and the resulting stories will eventually put your ass where your hat goes with the shistorm of raw unfiltered news that comes in your ears and plops its balls on your favorite addition of home and garden. “Ah hell no not my dream house ‘zine, it’ll be weeks until the next edition, I’m going to march on Washington” You’ll cry as you rally your multiracial family and tell them the news you just heard. But it will be too late old news is cold news so go drink a cold brew and wait for the next delightfully painful kick to the groin that we call current events.

With vengeance,

The Amazing Jack

Legal Disclaimer

(The Amazing Jack is not a registered trademark and is not held down by any one career. Journalistic skills may be lacking as The Amazing Jack is mainly shoe salesman at a shoe store in Southern California, cannot guarantee the sole proprietor ownership of this title: The Amazing Jack, Amazing is a subjective term, Jack may possibly not astonish or excite you, Call your doctor if you experience dry heaves or scabies, toxic chemicals have been used in the production of this blog, all animals may seem hurt but realistically that female miniature pincer was just being a little bitch that day, vengeance may fall upon you by someone other than The Amazing Jack and in such cases, swift blows to the kidneys and spleen have been experienced, Warning do not repeat anything you have read on this blog or listened to in our respective fact finding missions, this is of course if you care whatsoever about your social status or the way people rate your intelligence, otherwise take your “given up sweat pants” out of there secret hiding place and binge on all of The Amazing Jack’s content, talk excessively about obscure insider information, and purchase any and all of our non explosive merchandise [Warning product Amazing Jack DIY Dynamite assault charges mislabeled DIY Dynamite Dance Party and military grade explosives were sold in children’s activity aisles all across 8 countries including the US Mexico and Many Nordic locations. All sales are final, yes, even for merchandise our LLC charged to any stolen credit card you left in our flagship store/roller derby rink, The owner will find a place for the 17 7XL Amazing Jack Daygo Lyfestyle Signature Tube Top Wife beater as it is illegal in all 50 states and us Territories to throw away materials rated with exceedingly high uranium and lead content. [This is a specific but public message about your “stolen” credit card, we are holding a VISA Platinum credit card for Gino Togenclap who claims we here at the The Amazing Jack Production Team have been misusing his identity. This ungrateful piece of filth lives on 3853 Hermdiddle Coast Way, Sweet Lips, Tennessee 38340 Gino tends to be home in the mornings and evenings so for all you scavengers out there only case his residence at this time don’t get those sticky fingers just yet. Use excessive force if necessary to acquire Mr. Togenclap’s valuables and burn his family photos for good measure. Gino we don’t regret to inform you the new season of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt has come out on streaming networks but our office has been swamped with murky mud water and what looks like alligators and air boat parts so the mail people don’t pick up our packages anymore, this means we must continue our subscription in your name to hulu, nfl sunday ticket, netflix, amazon prime, Omaha steak delivery, the office wide Disneyland yearly passes we each got as bonuses last quarter, also our CFO Tommy Rimshot was saying he was experiencing some mild to sever spinal pain so we had you hook him up with the deluxe weekly package down at Attitude Adjustment, it’s that new chiropractor that took the idea of being sarcastically really mean and bad at his job like the folks down at dicks last resort, Tommy goes down there first thing they do is just hit him with a baseball bat right below his 7 cervical spine vertebrae and they fracture his hole spinal column, then they yell just kidding! Tommy was laughing so hard he was screaming in pain, 6 months of physical therapy with a lifetime of Oxycontin and he keeps saying he cant believe how dedicated the employees are to providing a comical and impacting experience for every customer, he has no idea how they knew he didn’t have insurance and would have to pay out of pocket, well we just put it on your card, you’ve got to try it out Gino, maybe when you get your credit card back, which I highly doubt will be any time this winter, possibly 2019. I can get you a good referral have em fuck up your back real good then fix it, That’s what we do to all of our friends and associates who “Talk too much” anyway this is meant to be a legal document that will hold up in court I better hold all the fraud extortion robbery and forgery chitchat for when i face time you, gotta jet talk to you soon Big G] Remember we also have a you break it you buy it policy on The Amazing Jack’s patented mustache If you break it you must pay the yearly $89,000 disabled severance from mustache package and if The Amazing Jack may happen to pass away from a sudden spelunking accident, act of nature, act of God, or point blank bullet wound to the facial area after severance from said official patented Amazing Jack Mustache the person/person’s responsible must pay out The Amazing Life Insurance policy Jack took out at age 26. Which is $5,000,000 to each of his 4 children and $800,000 to his pet brown bear to cover room and board along with the domesticated brown bear’s stamp collecting habit.)

Sincerely,

Ron Gotabitabeli

Head of Amazing Jack’s Crackpot Legal Defense Squadron (trademark)

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