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the-fiction-witch · 2 years ago

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Horns And A Halo

Media irl (taking place in 1960s but flashbacks in the 30s/40s

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating sweet and spooky

Concept the exposure of the stage

I sat on my little wood frame chair. My cushion is perfectly placed behind me to comfort my back. My hair tied up in a milkmaid braid tight to my head, my sweet dress around me snugly as I had my little tray over me flipping through my mail. Bills. Checks. And various mixes of nonsense. Until I reached the last of today's stack a small hand written envelope I opened it and pulled out a small card with a little invitation.

'Dear y/n,

The years have rolled by mercilessly, and yet now almost unnoticed. It seems like merely yesterday I watched the two of you dance your most famous act for the first time. I'm afraid to inform you of my Ill health seems the years have been kinder to thee than to me. I beg of you, allow a withering old man a chance to see you dance on that stage again just once more.

Your friend and supporter

Martin Hampstead'

For a moment my mind flooded with memories but I shook them all away, once last dance? I glanced at my withering body and my prosthetic leg thinking to myself if that would even be a possibility.

"Hello mummy" my sweet daughter smiled as she came inside my apartment a few bags of shopping in hand in her trousers and patterned button down a ribbon in her hair to match the outfit

"Hello dear" I smiled. She came over to give my cheek a kiss "you spoke to your sister?"

"Not since last week mummy. But you know what Odette's like. Busy as always"

"Not to busy for her own mother"

"I know. I'll remind her to stop by next time I speak to her" she says bringing me a cup of tea sitting on the sofa with a coffee of her own "you spoke to dad?" She asks

I merely took my saucer in hand stirring my tea giving her a slight side eye before sipping my tea but she merely sipped her coffee giving me the side eye back

"You know perfectly well the answer to that question odile" I told her

"It wouldn't hurt you to talk to him" she says having a biscuit

"It would. Hurt my patience dealing with that infernal man" I told her "why? He's been bugging about me?"

"He asks about you" she smiled wickedly "about the same as you ask about him"

"It's natural to feel… I don't want to call it compassion because it isn't. Concern. For someone you use to be married too but doesn't mean I care. Just that I'd be nice someone tell me when he drops down dead" I said

"Funny"

"How so?"

"That's almost the exact thing he said about you" she laughed

"Humm" I hummed trying to change the subject "when you get a moment dear bring me the tapes would you?"

"What for?"

"I want to watch them again" I told her

After a little while she brought me the box of tapes from the spare room all of them nicely labeled I flipped thought them until I found the one of interest popping it into the slot watching the screen come through from the snowy mess to the fuzzy picture I could hear the music my music I saw the stage of the Hampstead theater just as I remembered it and there I stood as a young swan graceful and beautiful. I could pack an entire auditorium back then, I could dance, I could sing, and people loved me. But that was an awful long time ago.

"Here's one of you and dad" she says grabbing a tape Changing it over and it fizzled in again to the stage I remember this day, we hadn't known each other very long and I was being a bit harsh on him trying to get our moves in sync. He wasn't a dancer, never was and in all honesty he wasn't meant to be. As time went on people wouldn't go to the theater just to watch a girl dance. They got bored of it, didn't help the economy at the time making it seem like a waste of your ten cents. I remember the very day Martin came in and told me of his plan. A partner. I didn't go along with it all at first demanding that I was a solo act but the decision has already been made. They brought him in, not a dancer but an 'actor' for comedy and skits between my songs and dances to extend the show and make it reach more people. Over time our act changed and developed with the times becoming the most popular act in town for a good while, we'd dance together, do skits of comedy together, I'd sing, he'd recite Shakespeare, we were a duo known far and wide.

and well. When a young man and young lady are working together day after day, rehearsals all day perform every night. Feelings are sure to bloom. It wasn't long before our secret snuggles were discovered and it made front page news that day. People would come see our act just to see if the rumours were true.

I changed the tape as it only made me feel worse but this one was no better seeing him there as I hoped to always recall him doing his usual stick. I did truly love him. In a way I haven't ever felt since. As the tape went on I knew this iconic dance it made all the newsreals at the time… on the last few steps of our dance he fell the panic set across my face till he got to his knees and pulled out a ring. Of course I accepted and it was the talk of the town of our engagement. We were married just a month later at the courthouse that too made the paper. And honestly it was a benefit to our act another element for jokes and dances, to be a married duo it certainly helped with advertising.

But the stage is never kind to lovers.

When you work together all day then come home to the man you work with It gets repetitive after a while. Not to mention the utter lack of privacy. And as the years rolled by our act got weaker and so did we. Divorcing just a year before the show and theater went bankrupt.

Odile changed the tape and immediately I grimmiced at the stupid dance.

Even if it was our most popular act.

The dance between horns and halo.

I hated the dance, I thought it was stupid and gimmicky but I can't argue with popularity, at the height of our popularity we did that damn dance four times a day everyday and a double on Saturdays.

But she smiled so widely.

"I don't know what everyone likes about this" I sighed "I didn't get it then I don't now"

"It's funny. And so cute" she smiled

I watched the dance having honestly never seen it from this perspective. I remember it even though this fuzzy black and white recording, Myself in my sweet black and red dress with a pair of glittering devil horns in my hair and a tail that came out my dress, him in his white pants and shirt with blue suspenders and a half on his head we would dance a Charleston style to the magic, a dance choreographed to go wrong He'd step on my tail so I'd pull a face at him and jank my tail back, he'd offer me a sweet flower from his top pocket which I'd set on fire and hand back, he'd drop me and I'd jank his suspenders off all very much physical comedy between the dance moves and ending with a kiss.

"Stupid dance" I sighed

I laid in bed pondering my memories thinking whether or not I wanted to visit Martin having not seen him on so long…

"There's my little star" Martin smiled putting his head around my dressing room door as I was getting ready for rehearsal

"What do you want, Martin?" I rolled my eyes as I fixed my hair

"You going to meet your new collaborator?'

"Martin." I sighed "I am a solo act. It works best that was I do not need a collaborator"

"Box office says you do"

"I don't need him. Or want him."

"Y/n knowone says you have to like him. Just put up with him for a couple of months if stuff doesn't improve he'll be out on his ass"

"You promise?'

"I promise. I'm not having some shit actor boy bring down my star girl. Come on he's waiting for you"

"Fine" I signed finishing my hair and make up heading to stage where everything was still being set up for tonights performance given we had new tech stuff to go through with a new person. And there on the stage he stood with Martin between us likely to try and keep the peace as he looked about as happy to be here as I did. He stood in a pair of Oxfords laced up tight, with red socks up his legs, black pressed trousers with red suspenders, a black button down with the collar undone, his jacket over his arm

"There she is. My little star. Y/n I am happy to introduce you to your new collaborator. Mr Thomas Sangster. Thomas this is the lady herself"

"Pleasure" he smiled offering his hand

I book it begrudgingly letting him give my hand a kiss

"Well I'll let you get acquainted" Martin smiled before wandering off to talk to the tech guys leaving us alone on the stage

"I-' he began but I interrupted

"Just give me a basis so I can get working"

"A what?"

"A basis. Your core knowledge, your specialist, whatever moves you can't do"

"oh. I don't dance darling" he says getting a cigarette from his box in his pocket

"So you signed on to be in my show and you can't dance?"

"I didn't sign on to be in your show I signed on to join the theater in an acting and performance capacity"

"Oh good" I rolled my eyes "you're an actor" I sighed

"You got a problem with actors?" he chuckled

"I have a distaste for them."

"Look. I don't like this anymore then you do. I wanted my own act. My own show. I'm not thrilled about being thrusted into yours. But we have to make the best of it if things go well I'll get my own and your ratings will improve. We'll be out of each other's hair by Christmas." He says

"One can hope." I sighed "what do you do?"

"Shakespeare. Comedy when needed"

"I see aren't -"

"I've seen your act darling. I know what you can do"

"You have?"

"Twice. Impressed both times."

"How so?" I smiled

"Well the first time it got me laid so"

"What?"

"I brought a date. It went well."

"I'm sure all due to your impressive personality"

"Or your act Being so boring we were literally making out though it"

"And the second."

"A few months back. On my own. I was equally as satisfied"

"Just stay out of my way. And don't make mess on my stage" I sighed going to sort backstage

"Yes ma'am" he joked.

I sat in the car unable to stop my memories given I used to walk this way everyday even if it was far more rundown then ever before. The taxi stopped In Front of the theater so I climbed out and paid him fixing my dress and coat as I did, it was exactly as I saw it the day Martin locked it up when he went bankrupt the ticket office locked up with the sign still hanging, the light on for the entryway, the poster from our performances still there broken away and covered in mold with the canceled tape still over them I loomed outside a moment confused how it could have simply been frozen in time like this.

I walked slowly due to my leg heading in thought the unlocked door the chandelier still worked the snack counter long abandoned dust covering the carpet. I continued on pushing open the door to the audience seats seeing the stage as perfect as I last saw it as if I left just yesterday. I hurried backstage all the little routes I knew before once again taking a step on the stage.

"Funny seeing you here" a voice spoke up I liked across the stage and saw a light from a cigarette before he stepped into the light onto the stage "I suppose Martin invited you too"

"He did." I answered not thrilled to see him but part of me feared he would be here "how are you?"

"Alive. Just about" he shrugs with a cough "you?"

"Still kicking"

"Odette came over yesterday. Brought me some pie"

"I haven't seen her lately"

"She said. I haven't seen much of odile."

"She's busy"

"Have you?'

'"last week."

"She always liked you better."

"The girls love us both. Equally"

"You believe that if you want to. Odile hasn't spoken to me in months. I know Odette hasn't to you. We split them up there still angry at us"

"I didn't want to split them up"

"Oh because it's my fault!"

"I never said it was your fault Thomas!" I yelled it echoing across the theater "did you bring here?"

"Who?"

"Lilly"

He chuckled "no. We split up."

"Sorry" I answered trying to remain emotionlessly

"It's fine. Years ago. You can smile I know you want to. I know you hated her"

"Homewrecker" I muttered

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For not talking to you. All these years."

"I wouldn't have wanted to hear from you. But I'm sorry I didn't try more"

"It's not your fault y/n. It never was. You look beautiful"

"Thank you" I blushed

"I can't help thinking how nice it would have been. To grow old with you. Now I'm just old"

"We would have killed each other" I laughed

"True." He laughed

"You seen Martin?"

"No. I assumed he'd be here. Or perhaps this is another one of his foolish games to get us in the same room"

"I wouldn't put it past him" I chuckled "it is… nice to see you again Thomas"

"It's nice to see you too"

Suddenly a loud bang erupted from below us like someone under the stage

"What was that?' I asked in panic

"Probably just this old place falling -" he began but the floorboards of the stage shook like an earthquake along with this horrible cracking sound we both froze for a couple of seconds before we each tried as fast as we could to bolt to the side of the stage to get backstage but before I even reached the curtains on the side the floor Gave out from under me I screamed as loud as I could as I fell what felt like miles underneath the stage I could see I wasn't alone as the whole stage floor had collapsed sending both of us down to an unknown fate.

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needsmoresleepwrites · 3 years ago

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Gift for Daiyanerd: Miyuki Kazuya. Always cool and collected. Has a great side profile. Good at baseball. Well, no, great is the correct word. (sofa’21)

Moratorium

Read on Ao3

ONE

Miyuki Kazuya

Always cool and collected. Has a great side profile. Good at baseball. Well, no, great is the correct word. Even when he sometimes messes up some of the smaller plays. Reliable. Daring. Funny. Charming. Has probably had a dozen girlfriends, or maybe not. Nobody has been able to get any concrete answer on that one question, but he's definitely a lady's man, his fan club primarily consisting of girls and women that claim they would leave their current lives just to marry him if he so much as hinted interest. Or at least that's what many of the magazines, both sports and gossip ones say about him

Not to be too full of himself, but Kazuya thinks that much of what they say has some foundation. Yeah, people like Yoichi and Jun know better but he has to agree that his catching skills are unparalleled. He might also really like sending magazine covers with blown up images of his smiling (smirking) face to Yoichi just to get a scathing reply or an angry call. His only response is his lady killer (annoying) laugh

He knows he's always being watched by someone, but it completely slips his mind that anything could go wrong on that day

The headlines are brutal and he's gotten many messages and calls from his friends. He hasn't really answered because, well, he hasn't been able to. But he knows what they're saying. He's laying at the hospital with bandages covering most of his torso. He has a sense of deja vu, having been in a similar position when he'd been in high school, but this is much, much worse. Something happened and everyone is scrambling to find out what

Everyone except Rei, who has been detained. The tabloids are lapping this up like it's the sip of water they've finally been allowed after being stuck in a desert for months. Except that they're ruining the lives of the people Kazuya loves the most

He sees different news channels trying to get interviews from the few people that make up his friends. They want to know about Rei from high school. They've dug up her whole life's story and put it on full blast. They want to know about Kazuya, as if they haven't already told all there is to say, invented and created his whole career. They talk about how Rei pretty much scouted him from a very young age. The same women that claim they would do anything for Kazuya have turned razer sharp, claiming that "they knew it all along" and that Rei "had it coming"

They all twist the information for entertainment and Kazuya closes his eyes, disgusted at what they say about her.

There had been an accident. His car had been hit and he knows he needed surgery. Later they found out it was all a setup and he went from being one of the richest people and baseball players in Japan to having nothing. His career may as well be over. It will take too long for him to recover. Games won't wait.

Kazuya throws the remote in his hand and wants to tell them all its lies. He knows Rei would never do something like this. She's smart. It doesn't make sense. As much as Rei will follow a gut instinct, especially if it's about recruiting potential, it's always based on logic. There is no logic here.

His name flashes on multiple headlines and all he wants to scream is no, I didn't she say she stole my money!

The machines connected to his body have been beeping for a while now and finally, nurses and doctors run in. They try to get him to calm down but all he can do is repeat It wasn't her! It wasn't her! Rei would never! Tell them to stop!

Soon he feels drowsy and he realizes he's been sedated.

Before he closes his eyes he sees a picture of Rei next to the news anchor. Her hair is down, her eyes look haunted, but her posture is proud. She's not in her usual suit. Instead, she's wearing that dreaded green top, almost drowning her, making her pale skin paler. She doesn't look right. It's not the Rei he knows. The Rei he owes everything to.

He feels the tears burn his eyes.

----

TWO.

It takes a little over a year for things to "settle" down, but once the storm is over, everything is ruined.

Kazuya still manages to get his face blown up on magazine covers, but this time it's for a different reason. He's now considered a victim and he hates the images of him being wheeled out of the hospital. Of the tabloids somehow getting a shot of his bloodshot eyes, his pale skin, and his hunched shoulders. He wishes his attorney had allowed Kazuya to do something, but everything was too precarious, we have to be careful. Careful of what? He can no longer play baseball. He was already pushing the age of acceptability, only being allowed to continue contracts because he was so good, was still quick, was dedicated in mind, body, and soul to the game. But now he was injured, would be in rehab, and nobody knew if he'd still be able to move as great as before. Nobody would take that risk

Rei is finally released, but her life is ruined too. Hers is worse than Kazuya's will ever be. Not just because she's the supposed mastermind of the accident and subsequent disappearance of his capital, but because she's a woman. It's made him sick how she's been torn apart and left behind. She had already been forcefully (through great results) making her own space at the table. This was just the excuse to make her disappear. Nobody wanted a criminal as their associate. The label was tarnished and it would take time to rebuild their name. "Apologies" had been passed around, but nobody would take the risk of allowing her space again

Nobody thought to ask her side of the story, to reach out and help. She was alone. Nobody could legally take what she's rightfully earned, but they can pile fines upon fines. She is "free to go" but they have severely limited what she can do.

It only makes sense that she finally retires. Kazuya goes to see her with the Seidou team. He breaks when he finally sees what they've done to her, all in "his name", to "protect him". Rei is strong, logical, smart, but she can't help but allow herself to show a bit of emotion at that moment. She wipes away at Kazuya's face, "There's nothing left for me here and there's no use crying. The only way to go now is forward."

Chris recommends that Kazuya go to the same rehab facility he went to in America.

Kazuya doesn't want to leave. It feels like admitting defeat, like running away, like he's abandoning his friends.

Yoichi grits his teeth, tells Kazuya he wants to punch him for being so stupid, "But hitting an injured person isn't my style, even though it's YOU."

There is little progress on his health, both physical and mental, and then Yoichi, who has been singlehandedly taking care of him whenever he has a moment to spare, nearly begs him, "Kazuya, please. Go. Don't let this defeat you. I don't want to admit it but I miss seeing that stupidly smug look on your face. Remember what Rei said. You have to keep moving forward!"

He can't help but laugh one night when he can't sleep, Yoichi's words and his concerned face plaguing his mind. He can't believe he almost let this defeat him. He can't believe he was down enough to force his best friend to make such a face, to make him cry for his sake. He feels like he's let everyone down, especially Rei.

He calls Chris a few days later.

Before leaving, he logs into his Twitter account, which, like any other media source, he's been avoiding for the past year. Someone has obviously logged in and cleared his notifications and as his last stand, no first, because even now "they have to be careful", Kazuya quote RTs an article he hasn't even read, but he doesn't need to. He chooses it because it has one of those headlines. He presses send and logs out.

I NEVER said she stole my money.

----

THREE.

It's two years when he finally comes back to Japan. His rehab had ended months ago but there was a part of him that had been afraid to come back. He's sure Yoichi had sensed it, which is why he'd pretty much dragged him back.

He remembers the conversation they had. It had been really late in Japan, he's sure that Yoichi was on the verge of passing out, could hear every yawn he tried to hide, but he wouldn't let Kazuya hang up, "I'm not hanging up until you agree."

Kazuya sighs, "There's nothing for me to do out there anyway. Here, I've been helping at the hospital."

"But you don't even like that kind of stuff! I bet you're bored out of your mind," Yoichi countered, and Kazuya has to admit that he's not exactly wrong. He misses the excitement from the diamond, feeling the burn on his thighs as he squats behind the batter, signaling different plays to his catchers, the feel of the ball as it lands perfectly in his gloved palm, the roar of the crowd as they once more strikeout another enemy batter. But he can't have any of that. This year Kazuya turns 30 and he has become stiff. He can't move as dexterously as before.

He hears some shuffling on the other end, as if Yoichi is changing positions on his bed, "Look. Not many people know this but...this is actually my last year playing."

Kazuya freezes at that. He knows Yoichi is still keeping up with his own records, has won his team countless matches for his boldness, knows they would never want to let him go. He briefly fears that maybe an injury is involved but shakes his head. No, Yoichi would tell him if that's the case, so then, "Why?"

"That's why I called and I need you to come back," there's another pause, not long, "I'm getting married."

Kazuya blanks out for a moment and then stops what he's doing altogether (he turns off the stove, he'd been making breakfast but this is more important. Besides, he had almost been done), "Married? Did you kidnap some poor girl? I haven't even heard of you dating."

"KAZUYA," he hears Yoichi yell, "I didn't kidnap anyone! And that's because my PR team has been making sure to keep things tightly sealed, and I guess we also haven't been able to see each other much too." That last part is mumbled but Kazuya catches it anyway.

Kazuya hums, still disbelieving, but only slightly. He knows Yoichi wouldn't kid about something like this so if he says he's getting married, he's getting married, "Congratulations then. Not sure how someone found you husband material, but they do say there's a type for everyone. How'd you meet her?"

"You are such a dick," Yoichi hisses, "How are we still even friends?"

Kazuya sometimes wonders the same thing. Yoichi has been with him at his best and worst and has never given up on him. He laughs, "My great personality?"

Yoichi snorts right before laughing, "Yeah right. Anyway, so I met this guy-"

"A husband?" Kazuya cuts him off, genuinely curious, but also can't help but tease, "You hid it so well with all those magazines. I'm sure nobody suspected. No wonder your team is doing such a great job at hiding this."

Yoichi yells into the phone, "Let me finish asshole! No! It's not a guy, her name is Wakana! And she's the childhood friend of this guy I met!"

Kazuya makes a tsk noise, "Yoichi, did you steal her from this guy? Are you a homewrecker?"

Instead of getting mad, Yoichi snorts, "As if. Can you believe Wakana was actually in love with Sawamoron for years and he didn't realize."

Kazuya adds, "So you seduced her?" before Yoichi can continue with the story.

"No? I mean, I'm not sure," but they both know that Yoichi probably couldn't seduce anyone even if he tried. Charmed, yes, but outright seduce? And a girl he liked? Very unlikely, "But she'd been tired of waiting and so I met her after she'd confessed and he rejected her."

"Hmm," Kazuya interrupts again, "So you took advantage when she was down. That makes more sense. She was probably so down about being rejected she would have said yes to anyone. Sadly that someone was you."

Yoichi is flabbergasted, "Take advantage?! MIYUKI, that's not- I'd never - just let me finish!"

Kazuya laughs, "Ok, ok. So how did you meet her? I won't interrupt again."

Just like that, Yoichi calms down and Kazuya notes the happiness in his voice as he laughs, not at Kazuya, but at something, the memory perhaps, and Kazuya is slightly jealous. He's not sure at what or who.

"So this kid, Sawamura, we were going to meet up at the park. He had something to tell me, but then I see him running after this girl, yelling about money or something. So I cut her off-"

Kazuya can't help but laugh, "Y-Yoichi, did you, did you attack the poor girl?"

"Didn't you say you weren't going to interrupt?!" Yoichi screeches, but he starts laughing a bit too, "And no, I didn't attack her but, well..."

There's a groan on the other end and Kazuya can imagine his best friend blushing to the tips of his ears, "I pulled her by the arm and she was surprised, but then she did something and next thing I know I'm on the ground, looking up at her and Sawamura is laughing like he's seen the most hilarious thing ever!"

He wonders if that kid was laughing as hard as he is now. He feels the tears tickling his eyes, his cheeks hurt, and he feels the force of his laugh pulling on his stomach, "I already like the girl. What happened next?"

Yoichi lets him laugh but his voice is annoyed, not at him he notes, but at what happens next, "So Sawamoron comes up finally and he knows the girl and I'm confused and just got thrown to the ground by a girl that doesn't even reach my chin, and I ask him why he was yelling about a thief, because that's what he was doing."

More shifting on Yoichi's end, "And you know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"He goes "I never said she stole my money!" so I knock him over the head because yeah, he's right, he was YELLING IT. Everyone in the goddamn park heard it! Made him buy me dinner and everything."

Kazuya feels a lump in his throat but pushes it aside, he turns the stove on again to finish preparing his breakfast, "I guess for Wakana I can go back. When's the wedding? And will I be your best man?"

----

FOUR.

Kazuya hasn't even been home a month when Yoichi walks into his apartment with their old Seidou team. Everyone seems to be there, even the first years like Ryo's little brother and Furuya. There really isn't anything Kazuya can do but move aside so that everyone can come inside. At the end of the group, right after the first years enter, he spots someone he doesn't know. A kid with unruly brown hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin who looks slightly nervous. His posture is too stiff but he's also looking around curiously.

Yoichi notices Kazuya looking at him and comes over for introductions. He pulls the kid into a side hug, "Kazuya, this is Sawamura, Wakana's friend."

Kazuya looks him over. He's heard a few things about him from Yoichi, "So this is Sawamoron?" he teases. He can't help the lift of his lips as the kid splutters in indignation.

A high pitched, "Kuramochi-senpai! You can't call me that anymore, we're practically family now!"

Yoichi howls, slapping the kid on the back, "You're always going to be a moron Sawamura, hyahaha!"

Sawamura grits his teeth for a second before standing up straight, stretching out his hand towards Kazuya, "Good afternoon, It's a pleasure to meet you! My name is Sawamura Eijun! Thank you for inviting me!!"

Kazuya looks at the outstretched hand for a moment before he doubles over laughing. Sawamura let's out another unidentified sound before yelling, "That's so rude Miyuki Kazuya!!" but he hasn't dropped his arm.

Kazuya takes a breath, isn't surprised he knows his name (briefly wonders if he knows who he is), right before taking that tanned hand into his own. Sawamura's hold is firm, if a bit sweaty, nerves probably, "Well, as you so clearly let my neighbors know, my name is Miyuki Kazuya." He pauses, "And I didn't invite you."

Sawamura pales slightly, looks over to Yoichi who just makes a rude noise, "Really Kazuya? You have to be a dick right off the bat?"

Kazuya only smiles brightly, finally letting go of the kid's hand, looks around his house, and says, "Actually, I didn't invite any of you over. Why are you all here?"

The others have already settled into his kitchen and, he peers through the doorway, there are bottles of coke and beer and the smell of oily pizza in the air. Jun has already made himself at home on his couch, a paper plate with a pizza on it. He's halfway into that slice and Kazuya doesn't know why Jun didn't just take an extra slice or two with him before settling down. Ryo and Haruichi are putting things in his fridge. He realizes now how empty his fridge must have been. He had been meaning to go grocery shopping but he supposes he hadn't had the energy to go. Kanemaru is clearing up some of the boxes he had yet to unbox, reading the labels Chris had helped him write, and arranging them accordingly.

He knows that many of these guys are still part of the leagues, wonders how they managed to take a moment to raid his home (notices a few faces are missing, like Yuki but he would have been REALLY surprised if they'd managed to get him to come over). He remembers how they'd made it a routine to visit him when they were at Seidou, knowing he could get lost in strategizing and numbers quickly. He feels a penetrating gaze and turns to see the new kid watching him intently. Kazuya can't help the grin that grows on his face and it's finally starting to feel like home.

He motions the two in, "Well, you may as well come in. Everyone is already inside. Feel free to raid my fridge and make a mess in my new kitchen."

Yoichi laughs, pulling Sawamura inside with him. The kid still looks slightly off-balance, but he sits next to the first years like he belongs and he wonders why this picture looks so right.

Yoichi dives in for the last slice of pepperoni pizza just as Sawamura is about to reach for it and then loudly exclaims, "Hey Kazuya, wanna hear something funny?"

Kazuya has already grabbed his own plate and he wonders how he missed all of these pizza boxes when they first came inside. He grabs one with sausage and mushroom, "Hm?"

"So while we were getting the pizza, we sent Sawamura to go get the drinks, right?"

Sawamura, who had just taken a drink from his can of soda, instantly spits it out and Kazuya is both intrigued and disgusted as he sees the drink mixed with spit cover his table, "Kuramochi-senpai, don't!"

He sees Kanemaru chuckling and Jun roars from the living room. Apparently, there were many witnesses to this apparently funny story. Haruichi pats Sawamura's back softly while the kid's face glows red. Kazuya is momentarily worried he might faint but then curiosity wins out, "Oh?"

Yoichi and he share a look, "Get this, we all gave him our share, right? So he goes in and comes back all mad, saying we didn't give him the right amount, but then, but then," It seems the rest of it is too funny for Yoichi to continue because he starts laughing and he notices Sawamura cover his face. He mumbles something but Kazuya doesn't catch it.

Ryo helps him out. He's also amused, a smirk on his face, "The girl stole his change."

Sawamura uncovers his face and yells, "I never said she stole my money!"

There's a moment of silence before...

Jun. He'd come back into the kitchen to get more pizza, "Who else could it have been? Had to be the girl at the counter, or did you just give up your money?"

Kuramochi, "Easy prey, how you're even a teacher is beyond me."

Kanemaru, "Wait. So it wasn't the cashier?"

Even Kazuya can't help but ask, laughter tickling his words, "Emphasis on "she"?"

Sawamura seems to realize his error and covers his face again. He's mumbling again but instead of being annoyed by the bad habit, Kazuya thinks it's almost cute.

"Haruichi?" Ryo questions and Sawamura uncovers his face to yell, "Onii-san! That's not fair! Haruichi you can't tell, you promised!"

Haruichi is looking back and forth between them, "Well..."

Then Furuya explains all, "He was flirting with the delivery guy."

It somehow gets even louder inside his house and Kazuya can't believe he thought of not returning. It's true that his baseball career is over, but this is where his family is at. This is where his life is truly at. He laughs until the tears in his eyes fall.

They spend hours getting him up to speed on gossip.

----

FIVE.

Even though he's only known Sawamura for a few days, maybe weeks, he's the one that keeps Kazuya company the most. And there's a big reason for that named Kuramochi Yoichi. Even though, or perhaps because, it's nearing the end of his contract, Yoichi gets busier. There are some rumors as to why he's finally leaving baseball, but just like he'd told Kazuya, everything is still under wraps. There are no incriminating photos and no face to put to those rumors jealous girls spread online. Kazuya wonders how things will turn out once Yoichi fesses up but until then, Sawamura becomes his shadow

One, he's not bound to such a strenuous schedule (Yoichi told him Sawamura is the grade school teacher at one of the local schools not far from Kazuya's new place. His new house is conveniently placed so close because it will soon be Kazuya's new workplace and they just happen to be on break now), and second...well, Kazuya's not sure. Yoichi didn't want to tell him. Not exactly

He remembers the last time he actually met up with his best friend.

Yoichi had invited him over for dinner and Sawamura had come up somehow (Kazuya comes to realize that Sawamura comes up in their lives very often). Yoichi had been contemplative. They'd just finished watching a movie and were just sitting there in the dark, the credits rolling.

"You know. If Sawamura had actually been interested in Wakana...I don't think I'd have ever had a chance with her. There's just something about him...he's so..." Yoichi makes vague hand movements, "you know?"

Kazuya laughs and wonders if this is what best men have to deal with with their to-be grooms. Jitters, he's heard them called, but he was sure this feeling was supposed to happen days before the wedding, not so far ahead when there wasn't even a date finalized, "Already second-guessing the married life?"

Yoichi doesn't even take the bait. He just sighs and leans back on the couch, "No, I'm serious. There's just something about Sawamura, he's so honest and hardworking. I can see why Wakana liked him."

"Careful, or I might start to think you actually want to marry Sawamura instead."

Yoichi kicks him halfheartedly, "Dumbass."

Their feet are still touching and Yoichi nudges him, "He's a good kid you know."

Kazuya leans out to grab his drink from the low table, takes a sip, "He does seem like it. Although he's a bit..." He tries to find the right word. Dense? Airheaded? No..."innocent?"

Yoichi laughs, "Yes! The stories I could tell you."

It gets quiet and Kazuya enjoys it. It's been years since the two of them have done something like this.

Yoichi breaks the silence again, "You know...Rei actually tried scouting him."

Kazuya takes another swig of his drink, deep, and tries to wash away the feelings of guilt. He hasn't spoken to Rei since the incident. Hasn't really asked about her although he knows she's ok, thanks to Chris

But he's curious now. If Rei had been interested in him then he was undoubtedly good talent, "What happened?"

Yoichi scoffs, "The idiot turned her down! Said he didn't need any fancy schools to play baseball."

Kazuya can't help the snort he lets out into his drink. He hasn't known Sawamura long but he can somehow imagine the face he'd make, how loud he would yell that statement with conviction, "Too bad." He's sure Sawamura could have been someone if he'd come to Seidou and he somehow feels cheated of something

"What position?"

"Pitcher, a southpaw, nasty throw," Yoichi grips his cup tightly. He looks over at him, "He's not a professional but he does still play."

It's a subtle nudge that Kazuya ignores.

Which is probably why he finds Sawamura so often on his doorstep.

Today he's managed to wrangle Kazuya out of his house, but only because it's work-related. The summer heat isn't terrible today so the two decide to walk and even though it's not that far, Kazuya finds himself lightly perspiring. Perhaps he's let himself go more than he thought, and he begins planning a timetable to get his fitness in a better state. Meanwhile, Sawamura is all smiles

"Hurry up Miyuki Kazuya!" He's already at the side door, opening it with his staff key, and Kazuya wonders if they should even be here. There are hardly any cars parked outside and the school is obviously void of children. Classes don't start until next week

"You don't have to call me by my full name," Kazuya tells him as he enters the building. Sawamura slides past him after closing the door, making sure it locks properly, "You can call me Miyuki-senpai."

"What?!" Sawamura's voice echoes in the hallway, "Why should I call you that?!"

"Because you're younger," he pats Sawamura's head and grins, "And smaller."

He slaps his hand away, a blush on his face, "I'm not small! And you're not even that much taller!!"

He stands closer to Kazuya and points at the few centimeters difference between them. Kazuya pushes him back, "Miyuki-senpai."

Sawamura just rolls his eyes and continues walking, "You really do have a terrible personality Miyuki Kazuya!"

Kazuya just laughs, "Thanks!"

"Not a compliment!" Sawamura yells and then points to the rooms in the hall they're in, "I'm usually here with the kids. Since the school isn't that big you'll probably get kids as young as eight and as old as thirteen in your class too, since you're the only gym teacher until Kuramochi-senpai gets married."

Kazuya nods, "Ok, Sawamura...sensei."

Kazuya notes how easy it is to rile up Sawamura. How his face will quickly turn red and his lips will form pouts or grimaces, his body reacting so honestly so quickly. Now he brings up his hands to cover his ears as he yells, "Don't call me that!!"

"Then stop calling me by my full name, it's weird."

"MIYUKI KA-"

Kazuya somehow manages to raise his voice enough to speak over Sawamura, "So Sawamura-sensei, where do the kids go out to play? Sensei?"

Sawamura looks like he's about to burst and goes off yelling. Miyuki follows him, laughing, their voices echoing in tandem

They end up outside behind the school somewhere. Even though it's small, Kazuya is impressed by how well maintained it is. There is a small playground to the side, which has been recently repainted, signs marking the walls and tape clearly discouraging anyone from touching. The mats at the bottom look worn but not in bad shape. Then there is a track that circles what looks like enough field to be a neighborhood. Most of it is empty and Sawamura's talking about how sometimes the kids will go out there and play soccer or volleyball or really whatever sports they need that requires a lot of space. The only place that looks like it truly has a defined purpose is the baseball field.

He feels excited and scared at the same time, wants to run to home plate, to feel the dirt path against his feet, crouch, and take in the view. But he also thinks this is a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have accepted the job. He knows why they want him, why they're willing to wait a year for Yoichi to come and teach. He's not sure if he can take the pressure

"Miyuki-senpai," he turns to Sawamura, who is pouting.

He's not sure why he feels himself calm down, perhaps it's because he'll take any distraction, even if it's loud Sawamura, or maybe it's because Sawamura looks ridiculous with his cheeks puffed out and his eyebrows scrunched up between his eyes. Kazuya smiles. It hurts a bit to do so, "Is this all just for the little gremlins? Lucky them, I didn't have something so big at my disposal when I was at school."

Sawamura suddenly inflates as he grins, "Yeah me neither! I'm from the countryside from a school even smaller than this! Wakana and I had to go to the other side of town with our friends if we wanted to play baseball. That's sort of what it's like here too. We share with some of the other schools and really anyone is welcome to come here as long as the kids aren't out playing."

"Wakana, huh," Kazuya notes. He hasn't actually met the bride-to-be yet, "Is she in the habit of taking people's money?"

Sawamura looks confused and perhaps a bit upset, "What?"

Kazuya only smirks, "I heard how Yoichi met her."

Understanding fills his eyes and he groans, "I keep telling Kuramochi-senpai not to tell that story! It's all lies! Lies! Come on, let's go to the gym, your to-be base."

They head back inside and Kazuya feels the smile that spreads on his face is lighter, amused. It's relaxing being with Sawamura, "So what, she wasn't stealing your money?"

"No!" Sawamura defends, "I never said she stole my money! It was all a misunderstanding!!"

"So what? She was just borrowing it?" Kazuya pushes and can't help but laugh as Sawamura goes red.

"I-It, my, NO! She just grabbed my wallet!! But she wasn't stealing it!"

----

SIX.

Kazuya hasn't been teaching for long when it's time to prepare for Sports Day and he forgets how tiring it can be. Sawamura is ecstatic the whole week leading up to the moment all the kids are let loose to run and play, and he's not sure how the flow of energy works, who feeds off who, but everyone seems to be ready to burst with enthusiasm by then. Kazuya feels like he's the only one who is burnt out. He's not usually used to so much happening, at least not like this

The school asks him to give an encouraging speech before the event begins, which Sawamura jealously admits had been his job the last two years, but he grins all the same. He encourages him to do his best, just like he does to the children and Kazuya isn't sure if he should be offended or glad when he feels the flat of Sawamura's palm on his back.

By then, Yoichi has finally wrapped things up with his team. He still has a few more interviews scheduled, but he's essentially removed himself (as much as he can) from the public eye. He's announced he's going to get married and has been asked many times about his to-be wife, but just like Kazuya, everyone is kept in the dark. On the few nights Yoichi manages to call him, to check up on him, Kazuya teases that maybe this is the most elaborate plan he's ever seen, that maybe this Wakana girl doesn't even exist

Yoichi just laughs, "What? Is The Great Miyuki Kazuya actually curious?"

Kazuya scoffs, "Of course not, and don't call me that. I can't get Sawamura to stop, I don't want you doing the same. It's so weird."

They talk until they're both ready to pass out but Yoichi tells him he'll be there and that he'll bring Wakana too. There's something strange with the way he says this but it's late, they've both been up for too long, and Kazuya doesn't remember the unease the next day

He doesn't remember until Sports Day, right before it happens.

It's usually a big event with parents and friends and the neighborhood coming by to see all their children perform at their best. This school is slightly different because of its size. It isn't just their kids (as Sawamura likes to say and Kazuya, reluctantly, has started to call his students), but a few students from two or three of the neighboring smaller schools. He's never seen the field so packed with kids. There are also a lot of cameras and flashing and suddenly Kazuya feels uncomfortably warm. This year it's not only locals that are here. He can see various news channels documenting the event and there are probably other labels walking around, trying to figure out what the next scoop will be. Or perhaps they've already been hinting at it but Kazuya has been avoiding all the gossip. He briefly wonders if they're here for him and while this might be slightly true, he's sure they're more likely to be here to catch a glimpse of Yoichi and Wakana

He decides to stick with Sawamura for most of the day.

Sawamura seems to be oblivious to all the attention, focusing on the kids, high-fiving everyone who is going to race, yelling encouragements as they pass him by, and yelling out happily as the kids make the baskets and reach the finish lines. Kazuya tries to show his support as well and Sawamura drags him from one event to the next. The parents love him as much as the children do. He briefly wonders if Sawamura will have any voice left for the next day

It's around the time the kids finally get their break for lunch (and that Sawamura pulls him over to an empty patch of grass so that they can finally rest as well, how Kazuya was able to crouch for hours on end before is almost a mystery to him now, he really HAS let himself go) that he starts to hear them

"I didn't say she stole MY money. Did you really not know?" "Is she REALLY here? "The NERVE of her." "We should tell the principal to kick her out. Where is she?"

Everything starts to go quiet as Kazuya looks around. There are too many people around, but he manages to find her by the fence behind the diamond. She's looking right at him and Kazuya feels himself stop breathing for a moment. He isn't sure what he was expecting but she looks exactly like she did three years ago, except somehow better. Her hair is up in her typical bun, she's wearing a pink button-up with her trademark pencil skirt. There's a small coat hanging off her arm, which is the only sign he has that she plans to stay for the whole of the day's events.

He gets up, ignores Sawamura's confused, "Miyuki-senpai?" and goes to meet her.

He remembers how Yoichi had sounded over the phone the other day and realizes that when he said her, he hadn't meant Wakana, he had meant Rei. She's smiling at him and once they're close enough, she says, "Miyuki Kazuya, it's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Rei," he all but whispers and he notices people are looking, the cameras are pointing in their direction and he smiles. He's so happy and relieved to see her. He wonders why he hadn't tried contacting her before, where the guilt and fear have gone. He thanks Yoichi, will thank him later as well, for always doing things like this for him, I'm the worst friend, aren't I? He can already see Yoichi's annoyed face as he threatens to punch him if he says anything so stupid again. He laughs, "It's been way too long. I'm sorry."

He finally has the chance to really apologize for everything, to offer his support, to ask how she's been doing, and he marvels at how Seidou is truly a family. His old teammates haven't just been trying to get him to move forward, they have also been helping Rei regain a semblance of her old life.

When they part, it turns into a game. They both know how things will go so they are bold, they grin, and take each other's hands in a firm shake.

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you on the field in the future." It's not a question.

"Of course." It's a promise.

At the end of the day, Sawamura and he are the last to leave the school since Sawamura offered to stay and clean up (and with him Kazuya). The sun is already on the verge of setting and Kazuya can't wait to take a bath and then crawl into bed. He doesn't want to wake up until a week from now.

As they're walking home (or really walking to his house because even now, he's never really asked where Sawamura lives, he imagines not far), Kazuya notices how quiet Sawamura is. He bumps his side with his shoulder, "Lost your voice with all that yelling?"

Sawamura looks over at him and shakes his head. Kazuya is momentarily mesmerized by this side of Sawamura. Quiet, almost shy. He's not pouting or angry, his features calm, slightly sharp on his handsome face. The remaining rays of the sun make his eyes look slightly gold and Kazuya wonders why he's suddenly noticing these things, "What's wrong then?"

The temperature had dropped enough that they were now comfortably wearing jerseys. Sawamura mumbles into the collar of his jersey and Kazuya is annoyed, but only slightly. It's that bad habit of Sawamura's and he wonders if he could tease those mumbled words out of him, is about to do that when Sawamura stops walking, closes his eyes, and yells out, "Do you like Miss Rei?!"

Kazuya is left speechless. At least that answers his other teasing question. Sawamura is as loud as always, "What?"

Sawamura opens his eyes, he's blushing and he can't seem to look him in the eye, "Well, there were those rumors...and then today...I mean, she's really pretty and just..." He goes quiet.

There's a lot here he wants to clear up, but he figures he should start with Sawamura's question, "No. At least, not really."

There's a question in those golden-brown eyes and Kazuya continues to explain, "I'm sure everyone on the baseball team liked her at one point. We were all teenagers and she's a really attractive woman, but that's it. Rei...she scouted me, believed that I could go far, pushed me, pretty much built my whole career. She's not really like my mom, not really an older sister...but yeah, like family."

They're both surprised by how honest he's been, which leads him to his own question, "Rumors? So you knew who I was. Is that why you called me by my full name?"

Sawamura looks embarrassed, "Yeah. I, I was curious about Seidou. I bet Kuramochi-senpai already told you about Rei and her coming to scout me?"

Kazuya nods.

They start walking again, "Well, I started seeing your name come up a lot. I always had trouble with my own catchers, I wasn't very good, sometimes my throws would go wild. I guess. I mean, they felt right, but Wakana, she was my main catcher, it was hard for her to catch them. Anyway, I started following your career. And just, well, then that happened and the rumors..."

They're quiet for a moment. Kazuya thinking back to how Yoichi had called Sawamura's pitch a nasty throw, the way Rei had pointed out Sawamura's staring while they talked and how Kazuya should catch for him, "When I saw him pitch, I knew you two would make a great battery. I knew you would be what could push him to greater heights, and that he would influence you too. All of Seidou. He has the heart of an Ace."

He's curious.

"Do you regret it?"

It's been a few minutes but Sawamura follows his question, turns to him, conviction in his burning eyes, "Never!"

----

SEVEN.

Kazuya finally gets to meet Wakana on his birthday. Yoichi tells him they're going out to celebrate at a fancy restaurant and he's not allowed to say no. Since he is the best man at their future wedding, he supposes it would be rude to not meet the bride-to-be so he pulls out one of his old suits, is relieved it still fits, and decides that's enough effort needed on his part. He also decides to forgo the tie and leaves the first two buttons undone. It's classy.

He's not surprised to see Sawamura also at the restaurant, and he's also not surprised to see him sporting a loud outfit. He's also wearing a suit but his shirt is a bright blue with baseball patterns, he's pulled up the suit jacket sleeves to his elbows (which, might he add, does not match his pants, but it somehow works), and he's actually wearing a tie. There's a girl trying to tame his hair but she soon gives up when Sawamura spots him and calls out, "Miyuki Kazu-mmyaa."

"Eijun!" the girl chides him, "We told you to be quiet!"

She's covering his mouth and let's go once he settles down. He rubs his hand through the back of his hair, ruining whatever work the girl must have done, "Sorry."

The girl shakes her head and turns to him, "So you're the famous Miyuki Kazuya, in the flesh."

Kazuya smiles, "And you must be the infamous money stealing Wakana."

They shake hands and Wakana laughs, "The one and only."

Yoichi comes up behind him, "Good, you're here. I thought I was going to have to send someone to drag you out of bed."

They're escorted to the back where they can dine in private. Yoichi walks in the back with him and Kazuya watches the way Sawamura's body faces Wakana even when they're walking. The way she pushes and holds his arm, laughs at what he says. The way that Sawamura lets her choose where she wants to sit and then makes space so that the table decorations aren't in her way. He sits across from her.

Yoichi whispers at him, "See what I mean?"

Kazuya doesn't need to see them interact to know why Wakana once liked Sawamura, but it definitely solidifies their closeness.

Wakana is very pretty. She has short hair that is slightly tinged with red, natural, she mentions when she sees him looking at her, "I get asked a lot." Apparently, it's a color she inherited from her great grandmother

She's as small as Yoichi claimed her to be, which makes her look tiny with her current company. She's wearing a simple and modest blue dress that matches perfectly with the ties Sawamura and Yoichi are wearing. She's just as honest as Sawamura is, and Kazuya wonders if all the people in his life are like that. It's refreshing. He instantly likes her and knows that Yoichi will be happy. It makes him happy too.

They're waiting on their food when Sawamura tells Yoichi that "Miyuki Kazuya" called Wakana a thief. Yoichi puts down his glass of wine, sending his best friend a glare, "I should have known you wouldn't behave!"

Sawamura is quick to respond, "It's all your fault Kuramochi-senpai! You keep telling that stupid story!!"

"The only thing stupid about that story is YOU Bakamura!!"

They look like children snapping at each other across the table and Wakana is just laughing. She turns to Kazuya, "Did he tell you what actually happened?"

Kazuya nods, "Sort of. Something about borrowing a wallet."

Wakana smiles, "Something like that, yes."

"See! I told you I never said she stole my money!!" Sawamura gets up suddenly but nobody notices the waiter coming with trays until the sound of plates falling to the ground and shattering are heard. But the worst part is probably the cake that Sawamura tries to save. Part of it lands on his hands, some of it on the table, but a big portion of it (thanks to Sawamura's interference), is now all over Wakana's dress. Everyone holds their breath, the waiter looks horrified.

Kazuya knows he shouldn't but he snickers and that seems to bring everything back to life. Wakana laughs and tells the waiter it's ok, she pats his hand reassuringly, "But can we get another cake? We'll pay for both of course."

The man is so relieved, he smiles and nods, and says he'll be right back to clean up, that he can also ask someone to help her out. Sawamura looks constipated and ridiculous standing there with chunks of cake in his hands.

"This is so coming out of your wallet Sawamoron!!" Yoichi cries out as he grabs chunks of cake from Wakana's lap and throws it on the table, "And YOU, I can't believe you did that!"

Kazuya only smirks, looks over at Wakana, and says, "Welcome to the family."

It seems like Wakana isn't just depleting Sawamura's accounts, but also stealing hearts.

----

OMAKE (months later)

It's the wedding night when Sawamura decides to crash at Kazuya's house. They're both exhausted and since they're both going to the same place the next morning, Kazuya doesn't make a fuss. When they make it home, they fight about who will take a shower first and Kazuya wins because, ultimately, this is his house so of course he has dibs. Sawamura pouts as he heads to the living room, ok, ok, just go you evil tanuki bastard.

When Kazuya comes out in a white t-shirt and boxers, he finds Sawamura already passed out on the couch, his arm and leg fallen off the side. He notices that he at least had the sense to take off his suit jacket and shirt. He's only wearing his undershirt and his pants have risen up his shins. Everything else is thrown against the back of the couch and his keys, cellphone, camera, and wallet, are all on the table. He's snoring lightly, his breath coming out more like little sighs, and there's a bit of drool where gravity has decided to do its job.

He's about to wake up Sawamura when he remembers something Wakana told him the first time they met. Right before they left the restaurant, she had pulled him aside, telling the other two NOT to come closer, Next time you get the chance, look inside his wallet. I promise it'll be worth it, and don't worry, he won't mind. He yells a lot but that's all there is.

The wallet is right there and Kazuya wishes it had landed the other way. At least like that, it wouldn't feel like he was snooping. No, he wouldn't. He doesn't really understand why Wakana wants him to look inside, but it's not really any of his business. He shakes his head and walks towards the couch. Before he can even reach forward, Sawamura shifts and mumbles a sleepy, "Kazuya."

Kazuya freezes at the stupid smile on Sawamura's face. He feels his face heat up and he's not sure why. He briefly glances at the wallet again, then moves to shake Sawamura's shoulders.

It takes a moment, a testament to how tired Sawamura is, before his brown eyes open and he sleepily mumbles, "Miyuki Kazuya?"

Kazuya hesitates for a moment. He doesn't have extra bedding and he knows sleeping on the couch is uncomfortable. They were going to share the bed, just like he always does whenever Yoichi visits, but suddenly he wonders if maybe this isn't a good idea. He tells Sawamura it's his turn to shower and nearly drags him to the bathroom. He stands outside just to make sure he doesn't pass out inside and somehow Sawamura looks even more drowsy than before. His skin is red from the heat of the water and they head to the bedroom.

Sawamura is out before his head hits the pillow. Kazuya arranges him on the bed properly and covers him with the blanket.

He finds it hard to sleep, the sound of his name coming from Sawamura's sleepy lips echoing in his head.

---

A/N:

I scoured Reddit for some inspiration and found this interesting prompt: "I never said she stole my money has 7 different meanings based on which word is emphasized." I sort of followed the prompt? LOL

things to note: 1. I just googled "prisoner clothes in japan" and green outfits came up, hence why Rei is dressed in a "green top" 2. I don't actually know how legal proceedings go in japan, if it would take longer or less (but this is fanfic so let's not question it) 3. Again, I don't know how long rehabs take but I'm not aiming for accuracy 4. If it wasn't obvious, Sawamura wasn't in the original Seidou team in this fic (lol) 5. Sports day apparently apparently happens around October (and again, Idk much about it)

I don't think I've ever written anything "complete" for this fandom but I hope you all enjoyed, especially you daiyanerd ^^

p.s. This got out of hand omg it's so long and hardly anything happens i hope you guys don't mind Orz Also, I kind of want to write more for this, maybe Sawamura's side of some of the events, maybe just a continuation, idk....

#misawa #daiya #daiya no ace #ace of diamond #future fic #modern day au #angst and healing #sawamura is best medicine #friendship #kazuya and kuramochi #humor #I write ff #gifts and exchanges #sofatropefestbingo2021 #seasons of anime trope fest bingo 2021 #seasons of anime gift exchange 2021 #fanfiction #First Meetings

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endexe · 3 years ago

Text

“Thank you, but nah. They gotta have someone to blame, I guess."

The line will always wander across Zero’s mind the moment they first step into Quinn’s town. Calm words given after a laughter was made, sharper than snapping bones, louder than phantoms’ wails. He then offered Zero a small smile, yet full of assurance it was, when they asked him if they could kill harm those who had labelled him as a serial killer, though his eyes said otherwise. [ QUINN DAVIES, THE SOLE KILLER SURVIVOR ( ? ) OF THE SIX. ] Though Zero didn’t say any more on the matter and pulled Quinn through the distraction, the disappointment was clear through their grim expression, their mismatched eyes full of raging, dying stars.

Zero stops by a candy store to admire the treats displayed behind the front windows. They plan to purchase them for themself and Quinn, though pause when they hear several cackles nearby. Out of curiosity, they follow after the sounds to see what was entertaining and found themself walking through the alley. They make a turn and gasp at the large, bolded texts on a brick wall before them.

QUINN DAVIES IS A KILLER WHO NEEDS TO BE KILLED

The words were printed in dark red, done without any care to them, and noticing the small splatters around them, Zero wonders if it was blood that was used instead of paint... Blood. They glance over to find a few teenagers laughing at the corner, their limbs covered with the red, red, red. One of four, supposedly the leader with black hair and brown eyes, him being the most insensitive to the others ( Four is his name now ), mentions about how he plans to commit a crime, that he will make sure Quinn will be the main suspect of it.

Zero’s eyes glow as they realize something.

“...You,” they snarl, approaching closer to the group, their glitches hissing and snapping at the reality.

“YO- YOU - YOU BLOODY. FUCKED UP. P̵I̵G̴S̴.”

Zero remembers. Quinn’s day of graduation. Once he took the diploma while everyone was out with their own already, and a small celebration was done with icecreams and milkshakes, Zero was with Quinn and his father as they returned home. He opened the front door and Zero saw red. Saw Quinn covered in blood—pig’s blood. His father rushed over and tried comfort him as he remained still, his eyes widen and diploma dropped to the blood stained floor. Zero didn’t know what happened from there when they exited their home to find out who was responsible for it. Their powers couldn’t work so they spent the rest of the evening alone with just their human abilities searching for answers.

In the end, Zero only learnt that the incident was recorded and already uploaded across the social medias.

“And who the Hell are YOU?!”

Zero’s attention snaps back to the present to find the blonde haired kid ( Three ) taking a threatening step forward.

“I recognize him,” comments the other ( Two ) with the brown hair. “He’s with Quinn and his pussy of a dad. He was in the video as well.”

“Shit, I didn’t even notice him!” says the last kid ( One ). “Wait, Quinn has another dad?! Didn’t he have a mom?”

“He did until she abandoned him because she couldn’t bear the fact her own child is a mass murderer,” sneers Two. “Anyways, I’m not surprised his dad would fuck with guys too. Quinn gives me that f—” Zero T E A R S his jaw off from him, watches with a blank stare as blood explodes and coats on them and their surrounding. Two gags and gurgles as he collapses to the surface and tries to breathe for life, his hands trying to cover their jawless face, though can only bear so much of his blood before his body stills.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT, SHAWN! WHAT THE - WHAT THE FUCK!?” screams Three, taking his gun out to shoot at Zero. The bullets enter through their stomach and as the aches tear across them, they fall to their knees. In the corner of their eyes, they watch One and Four leave the area before they realize Three have the gun against their forehead.

Zero takes his hand and bites his wrist hard enough to take a chunk of raw meat from him. Three screams as he pulls the trigger, another bullet hitting to the sky. Violent rings echo at the back of their mind and they freeze for a brief moment before they shove more of his hand into his mouth, constantly chewing through the flesh. Three tries to take the gun with his free hand, though Zero grabs his other wrist and SNAPS it.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” He drops his gun and finally steps away from them, wailing from the agony. Before he can look up from his damaged hands, he falls to the ground with a bullet through the eyeball before the gun is shoved through the other socket.

“DO YOU THINK MARK GOT HIM!?” shouts One as he and Four finds the exit entrance of the alley.

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW, JUST RUN!” responds Four, pushing him on the back.

One trips his feet over and falls, crying out from their knees and arms got scrapped against the concrete surface. He watches One’s form disappearing as he takes a turn. “FUCK, LUKE!” he loudly hisses, trying to pull himself up. “LU-” Two knifes pierce his mouth and his eyes roll back, dead.

Four reaches to the exit, he tries to call out for help from the people passing by. Hearing no one, his blood runs cold realizing they are frozen, stuck in time. He tries to make a run, though only to find Zero standing before him, giggling madly with two knifes held out, his right weapon holding the head of One. There is nothing human about them while they are coated in red, red, red, though the worst thing about them? They’re wearing a human face.

Four’s face.

Luke gags and covers his mouth. He runs to the opposite direction, though nearly bumps into Zero. He trips and falls on his back, whimpering and wheezing. “WHA - WHAT - WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?” he yells, his hands shoved into the pockets before he throws whatever he have at Zero. Wallet, drugs, everything. Yet nothing seems to attract Zero as they stomp on his crotch and rest their entire weight there. Luke wails and tries to push them off of him, though Zero stops him by throwing One’s head on him. Luke screams, pushing it away and violently shakes his head before he constantly begs to Zero to let him be alive.

Zero’s head perks up at the pleas. “You - you want to - YOU want to be ALIVE?” they innocently ask, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Well, I - i - IIIIII want you and your boys to leave - to leave Quinn Davies, my best fucking friend, al- alo- ALONE.”

“Thank you, but nah. They gotta have someone to blame, I guess," said Quinn to Zero a while after one of the teenagers— Luke pushed him down and insulted him right before Zero’s eyes. It was the first time they witnessed something like this to Quinn and before they could do anything, Quinn stormed off, leaving them behind and Luke walking away, laughing, laughing, laugh—

Zero grabs Luke’s neck, keeps him there as he squirms, his nails digging through their bleeding arms, before his body begins to twi- twi- twitch. “Here’s the deal: I’ll keep - I’ll keep you alive. I’ll resurrect your friends too. ONLY as long as - as looongggg as you all can do T-H-A-T for me, okay?” He clenches his skin tighter and watches the purple forming beneath their fingertips. Luke tries to nod, though seeing the desperation in his eyes, Zero laughs and lets go of him with enough force for his head to hit the ground, knocking him out. “Okay,” says Zero, falling to the surface on their back, their blood still gushing from their stomach wounds.”Okay,” they whisper and weakly snap their fingers.

Darkness falls.

"Four teenagers are taken to the hospital with severe injuries. One of them have a dislocated jaw, another have missing eyes, and the third have a missing tongue with a deep cut around the neck. The fourth, while only having bruises on the neck, keeps rambling on about this entity who had a face like his and lashes out at anyone who tries to come close to him. No one seems to know what happened to them or even who they are. Police had tried contacting their families and close associates with their given phone numbers, though none of them recalls being associated with them. The police are still investigating the case. If you know who any of these teenagers are, please contact at—”

"Zero?”

Zero’s gaze slowly rises, though doesn’t meet the other’s, their attention everywhere and nowhere at once. “Yes?”

“Do you know who they are?”

They glance over to the television, staring at the pixelated images of the four teenagers on the screen. “I - I do not”, they blankly respond, staring down at their alphabet cereals and starts playing with them again. They can sense the suspicion, though they don’t know why. Can’t remember if there’s any reason for there to be suspicion.

“Do you?” Zero asks quietly after a heavy period of silence, almost if they’re afraid of the answer.

“No, I can’t remember them,” replies Quinn.

#f slur cw #* not fully written but implied #homophobia cw #violence cw #injury cw #murder cw #gore cw #death cw #panic attack cw #ask to tag cw #( I. okay. )#( I just wanted to write drabble of Zero defending Axl's final boy OC Quinn )#( but Zero really took it to the next level than I thought Jesus )#( umm... to Axl... enjoy? )#* ❪⠀ 📺⠀❫ : drabble.𝚝𝚊𝚐 //

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glitterytidalwavedragon · 4 years ago

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Putting it Out There (A Biracial Child)

I’ve always wanted to address this, I just never knew where or how to. But, as I write, I see the influences come into play more and more (More so when I am writing my B.B fanfic and the Tourist), so I thought, now is a good time as any and this is the only account and platform I feel safe (maybe because I don’t have 200+ friends or followers here who know me outside of social media). I also feel as if this prospective of life isn’t given much attention or heard.

I, as some may know cause I had commented as such, am a biracial child. My father is a Caribbean Hispanic male and my mother of German and Italian descent.

This does not mean I have the best of both worlds. In fact, most of the times I feel alienated.

Born in the early 90′s, the song “Livin’ La Vida Loca” by Ricky Martin was every where. My mother would tell me that song was about me, now I was 5-6ish. I thought she referred to me liking cats, and trying to go out to perform a crap version of ‘Singing in the Rain’ along with the love for magic.

No, it wasn’t so innocent. It was straight up because of my skin tone. I looked like the girl the song was describing. I had no idea. Nor did I realize a silent war was raging in my family.

Growing up was...hard to say the least. It is even harder when you have racism on both sides pointing fingers at each other. On my mother’s side, my aunt and uncle wouldn’t allow me to visit unless it was a holiday to which there was pressure from the family. Out of spite, they would invite my much older siblings father over to cause a fight (The man did not celebrate christmas). Meanwhile my other aunt would tell me over and over again I was Italian. In the end, during these events I would end up alone and not know why.

Now lets turn to the other side of the family, my father’s. My first words had been Spanish. Yet, I lived with English speaking relatives... guess who stopped speaking Spanish for a long while. When visiting my family on his side, none of of my relatives would address me, only if they had to because my father was not around. These people knew how to speak English, very well even though they had moved from their native island. They just refused to speak to me. This sucked cause where it was 3 people on my mother’s side, it was 16 aunt’s and uncles on my fathers not counting the dozens of cousins I had. So, as the other family events, I ended up alone not knowing why.

The answer was rather simple but much to complicated for my child self. Both sides of my family was and still is completely racist. My white mother was near exiled for being with a man many would consider black (he considers himself Spanish and oddly doesn’t get the fascination on why his skin matters or makes me worry about him when he is stopped by cops...). I was the ‘mixed’ baby, a simple of her family’s shame.

My father’s side could not care what color my mother was, only that she was not Spanish. For those who don’t know, Spanish can be an array of color, its cool. But, she was no Spanish, did not speak Spanish and therefore my father was exiled by everyone but his own mother for many years (which is why we ended up in family events, my mama wanted to see her youngest grandchild by her baby boy). This meant being put at the back table, being openly mocked, and never told of big family events like babies or weddings.

This only lead to more fighting at home and in the end even my own siblings, alienated me. It was a pretty lonely experience.

This carried on to school and friendships. Elementary was not fun, but I felt the effects more in Jr. and High school. In elementary I was grouped with the other Spanish kids, because starting in late summer I had my Spanish tan on and therefore, I was not white to other white kids. But I did not speak Spanish. At one point I spoke gibberish to just to be able to hang with the Spanish kids at recess. It worked and I still don’t know how.

In Jr. ahhhh... at one point my family was making good money, which originally, it once took the income of five adults to keep us afloat, now it just took 2. My father and my grandpa (who I will talk about later). We moved to a ‘nicer’ neighborhood. In the early 2000′s that mean, a white neighborhood. Boy, did I stick out.

Now you might think “But you grew up in NYC, said you were from Brooklyn” well, here is a fun fact. Nothing is more segregated than NYC schools. The north did not do busing like the south did, so white schools stayed mostly white while schools in low income areas stayed mostly black or other minority races. I was a very tan child going into a white neighbor hood to a white school. Lets top it off that I played video games and Yu-Gi-Oh, HA!

I received hell. I had legit parents sneer at me, and girls asking me if I had sex because I was Spanish. A 12 year old, got hit on by 15 year olds because they thought my race made me easy. I was 12, all I wanted was to collect cards and play Pokemon on my stupid advance, I had no time for boys unless they were anime. But... someone (more than likely their parents) had set these ideas in their head on how Spanish people, more so girls, acted.

Then I realized, I really liked all things Gothic. A Spanish Goth.... it pains me to think about it. Everything from poser, to faker, and ‘trying to act white’ was laid on me. I could not wait for Jr. High to end. And when it did, a whole 180 happen.

I was no longer Spanish. I did not know why, just everyone referred to me as ‘the ONLY white girl’ in the school and that is not a joke. My school, was dubbed the worse in all of Brooklyn and shut down, which I believe it was dubbed that because of the 1% white population... I was the 1 after my second year when the other white kid (who was a boy people asked was my boyfriend) graduated. Now, in high school it wasn’t the kids who gave me hell. It was the teachers.

In fact, high school led me to meet others who were also feeling alienated. One of which I am very close to, a black man who is Jewish (adopted by a white couple) and gay. He did not where he belonged either. In the mid-00′s to be a black gay man living near the ghetto was dangerous. I can’t count how many times he had to hide who he was so he wouldn’t get shot. Nor could I count how many times my other friend coped with being a biracial black man who loved anime and being goth so much he was bullied for it when we weren’t together (who I ended up dating throughout high school).

Suddenly being labelled white get me an acceptance I was not expecting. I ended up being popular against my best efforts and people who I did not know knew me. At 15 I did not get what had changed, because no one had told me yet. No, I figured it out at 16, when I was placed in senior English because of my grades. My English teacher told me, I was white, in the worse why I could ever imagine.

My English teacher, a beautiful black woman who celebrated her African roots, gave an assignment one day. I was one out of five in a class of thirty who did it, because I did it in her class the day before. I played sports, so did half the other kids, I did not have time after school. This did not sit well with her, she was mad, which was an understatement. So, she turned to the class and said

“This is why our people end up in Jail or having babies to early. Because like black people don’t take education seriously.” Then called be out by name and continued “is why she will end up being successful, because white people know the importance of an education.”

First off, she was very racist towards EVERYONE, second I at 16, who was always called Spanish in school was now labelled white in front of everyone by an adult. I was both confused and terrified as my boyfriend who knew my family cared JACK SHIT about education looked ready to kill her. Luckily, he just walked out of class and waited for me as I was too studded to move.

I later asked him if he thought I was white, he admitted he did until he saw my father and called me biracial. For the first time in 16 years, I had been called biracial. Went home, did not tell anyone what happened, asked my mother if I was biracial and she said yes. To shorten this up, this was what life felt like,

At home, I had no race. Neither side welcomed me.

In school, I was told I was Spanish and had to fake my way in the Spanish group.

Jr High, I am now trying to distance myself from everyone as being Spanish makes me a target.

High School, I thought being Spanish would be a good thing. Now everyone is telling me I am white.

I had not idea who or what I was.

All I ever wanted was to be me. I wanted to understand why my family never got close to me, and I wanted friends who were friends because I was me.

It was like I was being ripped to pieces. I could be what others wanted or be no one at all. I had no idea what to do. If people at the new school found out I was Spanish, would I become a target again? I was allowed to freely play games, watch anime, and be my gothic self if I were white. But that also meant I could not hang out with my friends who lived in the Ghetto, shouldn’t like rap, R&B, and reggaet��n or use the slang I grew up always using.

To be a Spanish person trying to be white

A white person trying to be black/another minority of color.

I had watched as the former got my friend (boyfriend at the time) kicked out of classrooms as he was compared to those involved in columbine shooting from teachers since he was different. Also the hell he received from other boys for cosplaying and playing anime based card games. At one point it was so rough he thought about dropping out and I begged him to stay along with his mother. I was so afraid of going through that again.

So I kept my mouth shut.

I took on the military standard of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”. My father never came to the school because he worked so much so no one knew. Everyday, I just took what my English teacher said to be without any force back. When Obama was voted in, she told me I had no right to celebrate, that my people had JFK and that Obama was for all the minorities to celebrate. I fell into a dark hole of hating myself. My home life was awful and now school I had to pretend to be something I wasn’t comfortable with. I started ditching classes, got into more fights than I would care to admit, did some really shady stuff and began hurting myself.

The only joy I got was when I busted my ass grades wise and got out of school six months early. I did not have to go to school anymore and I could lock myself away to be no one but myself. It was lonely but I found company in books and my art. Through art I was allowed to be me and no one could take that away.

When I returned for Graduation I June, did I get the final laugh on that English bitch. My mother and father showed up, she asked if my father was a cab driver helping my mother as she had gone blind. I told her, rather happily, that was my father. She went from joy to sheer disgusts faster than you can blink. For years she kept talking about who ‘mix babies’ never got any where as their fathers were never around. Yet, despite me hardly showing up, I gradated top of my class, never had a baby nor was I ‘loose’ (In fact I feared sex as a teenager), and my mixed couple parents as she lovingly called it, were together.

She walked away from me and never said a word since.

But now school was over, college was starting. I still hadn’t figured out who I was. Was I white/Italian or Spanish. In college I learnt no one was going to tell me who I was anymore, nor did they care. At home, it was still a battle of the races. Finally, one of my cousins spoke up and declared I wasn’t Spanish as I knew nothing of the language. At home, my aunt and uncle decided I was Spanish and called me a ‘Spick’ as a joke. I did not take it as one and therefore I was called ‘uptight’.

My siblings also informed me, if I wanted free college to put down Spanish on everything unless it was the census. Then I should be white. Sometimes I still run into people who think I am one over the other. I had people come up to be speaking Spanish to be highly offended when I tell them I don’t speak the Language well. (I tried learning but it is hard when motivation is not there).

In recent years, I had someone at work tell me how they met a Spanish person, shockingly where my father works, and then described in detail my father and then tell me they thought he was illegal since he looked the type. All because they thought I was white... proud to say that person got fired for being racist.I did also inform them that was my father to their response was “you’re one of them”.

It never ends.

No, the reason why I haven’t been driven insane is because of my late grandpa. My grandpa was a man I adopted to be my grandfather. My biological grandfathers on both sides died long before I was born and the man I adopted was close to the family and acted like a father to my parents. He was a good man and the reason I had a childhood.

He once went through the same, Italian/Jewish, you wouldn’t think there would be a problem but when he was growing up that equaled Catholic/Jewish, to which he too was either pinned in the middle or rejected by both sides, this is the 1930′s-1940s. He gave me the best piece of advance ever.

To be myself.

That if I were myself, then it did not matter. The moment I stopped being who I am, that passing or faking would never tell me who my real friends were. That if he, could love me for who I was, a weird girl who liked boy things and drawing strange looking characters, then anyone else could. Being a stranger to myself would never bring happiness. So, after years of not listening to that, I finally decided to listen to my Grandpa.

I know who I am, I know the history of my families. They might not like that I am not what they want me to be, but they don’t have to live with me. I have to live with who I am. My friends are my friends because they know who I am, not who they think I should be.

So for all my biracial brothers, sisters and them’s, be yourself. Don’t try to force yourself into a mold, it isn’t worth it. None of it is worth it.

Look yourself in the mirror and say your name. Say it loud and let everyone know they can not define who you are, and so what if they say you don’t belong, guess what? You do if you want. You belong because YOU say so, because that blood runs in your veins as well as theirs. So you get to make that choice!

Make that choice of being you! Define yourself to YOUR standards.

Don’t let anyone take that away. I know I won’t.

So here I see myself! A strange fox who changes coats with the seasons, that loves anime and video games, who plays Yu-Gi-Oh and listens to opera and Metal while can twerk and get low to Daddy Yankee! Who eats sushi and makes a mean chicken cutlet but can also make the best empanda with beans and rice with the rest of them!

And no one can take that from me.

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jlath · 5 years ago

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I Was the Girl Who Stayed in an Abusive Relationship: Here's What I Learned

Believe Me, Or Not

Three words. I remember only three words that were spoken the night of one of the worst arguments I’ve ever had with another person. Just three words. They were mine and I said them with tears in my eyes, slow and steady, even though I knew I was speaking to someone who wouldn’t process them or even hear me while trying to maintain the volume of his voice above the shakiness of my own. But I remember deciding that I would say the words anyways, just in case, by some miracle, he would stop screaming in my face and step away from me. I said:

“You’re scaring me.”

I remember wishing it was more extreme than it ended up being, because then I’d have a clear-cut, evident reason to walk away. Everyone would see a bruise on my face and wouldn’t dare to question me. I was only nineteen though and I was naïve, for I thought that being trapped in to my own bedroom and yanked by my wrists was not enough reason to walk away. But just because someone’s fist doesn’t meet your face doesn’t mean they haven’t or aren’t trying to physically hurt you.

I never thought of myself as weak. Growing up, I’d watch TV shows and movies and critique the women who got back with the men who were physical, enraged or emotionally abused them. I told myself, “I’ll never be that girl. I will be a stronger woman.” But what did I do? I told no one what had happened – the extremity and physicality of our fight – and I got back together with him a few weeks later.

The next six months of our relationship were a blur. We were together, dating, but both involved in new college organizations and had minimal time to do anything when we saw each other. I found amazing friends through the organization at my school that I was joining. Learning and growing through that process and being around beautiful and kind-hearted people opened my eyes to all the heartless ones in my life. In the time I spent without him, I thought about how much different of a person I was becoming, and he wasn’t around to see it because he was busy participating in an organization as well. It took me a while to realize that his not being around, however, was the reason I was so happy. For the first time in over a year, there was no one around manipulating my plans with friends, convincing me how to think, frowning at my outfits or telling me I was “crazy” and that I was “making stuff up,” “lying” and “imagining things,” something I learned later on is called gaslighting.

There was more than one reason as to why I left the relationship, but no matter the details of my decision, what happened after only proved to me I’d made the right choice. Texts begging me to talk or to see him, him showing up at my apartment uninvited, social media posts boasting my exclusion and even being followed back to my apartment after trying to drop off his belongings. There were stories being twisted and turned to make our mutual friends take sides but most importantly, the defining moment of the breakup was his assault and battery of one of our mutual friends, my best friend and now current boyfriend, who I had been with a month after I ended the relationship and his friendship with my ex had gone south.

Great timing? No. Clean break up? Hell no. It was ugly and it put every ounce of my strength to the test, even for months after. And that is why I am writing this. As many of you would hate to believe and are here to find out, I’m not writing this article out of vengeance or spite. No, I’m writing this for any other girls out there like me.

You can believe me, or not.

What I Learned

There’s been days where I’m afraid to be anywhere besides my bedroom. There’s been days where I suffer panic attacks at the thought of running into him around school. There are even more days where I miss the people who I once called friends who he turned against me, people I’d been close with since I stepped foot on the college campus and who didn’t even bother to hear my reasoning, my side of the story . But there are no days where I regret my decisions.

The first thing I’ve learned and that I will carry with me forever is that love shouldn’t make you think you’re crazy. It shouldn’t make you question the quality of your memory, blame yourself for an argument you didn’t start or doubt yourself to the point where you wonder if maybe the medications you’ve been on since age twelve to treat epilepsy have somehow given you memory problems...Love shouldn’t push you around or leave you standing alone in an empty apartment while all your friends are downstairs drinking with him. Love shouldn’t leave you feeling like you are worth absolutely nothing. Gaslighting is real and not enough people know about it. Even now that I am speaking out, the one criticism I have continued to receive is that I am “crazy.” But if telling my truth makes me crazy, call me crazy. This label may have stopped me before, but now it means nothing, especially coming from people I’ve never met or even seen in my life. I have confidence in my instincts and in my memory. I know my story. It’s mine to share. If you don’t want to hear it, may I ask: why are you still reading?

The second thing I learned is, like I’ve said, to speak your truth whether or not people believe you. Which is why I am writing this now. See, I never told anyone that I experienced a low-level of physicality during an argument in my relationship until I needed someone, anyone to believe me. That was a mistake because after almost six months of staying silent on the topic in order to protect his reputation, no one wanted to believe me when it came to explaining the reasoning behind my finally ending my relationship. Even if they did stick around to hear me out, they belittled me, condescended my fear and wrote me off. I walked away from a girl I called my close friend because she told me my fear was unjustified saying “bro, he would never physically hurt you.” She didn’t believe when I said that he already had.

I think there’s a power in staying silent. I chose silence for the months after our breakup to let the record show that in that time, I’d said nothing that I regretted. Silence can protect you, but you should never stay silent to protect someone who’s hurt you. This is the next thing I learned. At the time of the first breakup, I’d been so isolated in my relationship that I had no true friends, no support system to confide in or tell me that I was making the right decision to leave the relationship. I was only questioned by our mutual friends, which made me feel like my reason to walk away after an experience like that was invalid. After remaining in the relationship, it took time for me to realize that it was valid and that that experience had changed the essence of whatever we were doing. It was tainted. I would never be confident in saying that another serious fight wouldn’t result in another crossing of physical boundaries. I would never be confident in saying that it wouldn’t be worse, or escalate after the first time. Because, simply put, I would never know. But now that I have genuine friends, I’ve noticed that people who understand the thought process behind my keeping quiet about that experience are the ones who have stuck around.

The last thing I learned is something I’d like to write directly to girls like me. The ones who feel crazy, invalidated or afraid. The ones who are hopeless romantics, who seek true love that protects you the way it’s supposed to. To those girls: never ignore the red flags and never disregard your instincts. Over the course of my relationship, I saw them. Red flags, red goddamn strobe lights blinking in my face, and yet chose to ignore them. I was eighteen and I wanted so desperately to feel love, so I let myself fall. But halfway through my 20th year, I realized that your instincts are called instincts for a reason: to protect you. Always, always go with the gut feeling you keep telling yourself to push aside. More often than not, your gut feelings, your instincts are right. And they do and should validate whatever it is you feel: fear, anxiety. Anything.

In the end, what I continue to tell myself is that no one knows what happened the night of that horrible fight I had in my bedroom with my ex. No one knows the extent of it besides him and me. People will only know the versions of the stories we tell. And wow, people love to hear anything that will distract them from dealing with their own issues. People love to believe a wild story. A cheater acting promiscuous! A writer seeking revenge! They’ll either believe you or they won’t. Either way, protect yourself. Trust yourself. Validate yourself. Then move on and go find meaning and happiness. That’s all you can really do.

Believe me, or not.

j.lath

#write #writing #writings #article #relationships #poem excerpt #excerpts #excerpt #poetry #prose #nonfiction #journalism #abusive relationships #emotional abuse

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imagitory · 5 years ago

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*exhales heavily*

Okay...I don’t usually go off the deep end in political essays that often. If it’s a quick thing like “f**k Neo-Nazis,” then sure, fine, that’s easy. I don’t have to explain why Neo-Nazis -- especially the cowardly ones that try to label themselves as the “alt-right” in a vain attempt to seem more acceptable to modern society -- can go screw themselves. Everyone already knows they’re awful -- or at least, everyone should already know they’re awful. If you’re the sort of person that wants to try to “teach” me about how the alt-right are not Neo-Nazis, then this post isn’t for you, so kindly don’t interact and keep scrolling.

This post is instead for my Democratic followers, whether you support Bernie, Biden, Warren, whatever. Please feel free to skip over it, though, my dear followers -- I know this whole political season has been very draining, and I have a lot more positive posts on my blog that you can consult instead. If you do want to read my thoughts, though, here’s a cut.

Hi, guys. How’s it going? We really dodged a bullet with Bloomberg dropping out of the race, didn’t we? At least now no one should be able to say Democrats and Republicans are alike, right? The Democrats kicked their racist, sexist, obnoxious, out-of-touch billionaire accused of multiple sexual assaults to the curb, while the Republicans made theirs president.

On that note, though...we still have the Republican version of Michael Bloomberg -- the one and only Donald Trump -- in office. We all remember how he got there...Hillary won the popular vote, but thanks to the ridiculously outdated electoral college rules and Russian interference, the electoral votes went Trump’s way. We could conjure up multiple reasons for Hillary’s loss, but at least in my opinion, I would say we learned a few lessons from the 2016 election that I think we should keep in mind. (Alongside making sure Russians butt the hell out of our elections and fact-checking all the rampant misinformation from our media outlets.)

1) We Democrats have more things in common than we might think, sometimes.

Clinton was infinitely closer to Bernie, politics-wise, than Bernie was to Trump or Gary Johnson. Yet there were those who were so upset about Hillary’s nomination and the role Democratic Party officials had in coaxing delegates to support her that they protest-voted against Hillary, even if that vote wasn’t in their best interest. We don’t have a system that lets us rank who we want for office from most to least, so sometimes we have to accept a bird in the hand rather than reach for two in the bush. You might feel good about voting your conscience in the short term, but you probably won’t when it results in your vote being a drop in the bucket that doesn’t prevent someone like Donald Trump from winning. We’ve already seen this happen not just in the Trump-Clinton election of 2016, but in the Bush-Gore election of 2000.

2) Despite that first point, if we want unity, our Democratic candidate must be aware of how diverse our party is.

Even if we do end up having to settle for a less liberal candidate in order to win an election, that candidate MUST acknowledge that we are not like the Republican Party. We will not march lock-step with people we don’t agree with just because they’re in our party or we agree with some things, and we will certainly not be satisfied with simple pacifism. The Republican Party has been tilting farther and farther to the right over the last three decades, to the point that their policies now involve mass internment of Mexican immigrants and family separation, directly paralleling plans carried out by the THIRD EFFIN’ REICH. We cannot keep begging for civility and peace and trying to reach a compromise -- you cannot compromise with this kind of extremism without sacrificing all of your principles, because those kinds of people do not make concessions.

I remain convinced even after four years that Hillary should’ve chosen Bernie to be her running mate -- if she had, the rift between the centrist and more liberal branches of the Democratic Party might have been healed enough that we could’ve looked at our ticket with excitement and hope, as we had for Obama and Biden back in 2008. Instead Hillary chose Tim Kaine, an inoffensive centrist Democrat who added absolutely nothing to her presidential bid. He couldn’t even help Hillary out by boosting the campaign with youthful energy or natural charm -- Bernie would’ve both boosted morale among younger and/or more liberal voters and lit a fire under those who were anxious about what a Trump presidency could lead to. The same could’ve been true if Bernie had been chosen to be president -- if he’d chosen Hillary, she could’ve better appealed to moderate voters intimidated by the thought of voting for a Democratic Socialist and run on her international experience as Secretary of State.

3) In order to make any difference at all, we must vote, and we must win.

I’m the first person to acknowledge that I hate voting against my convictions. If the Democrats had chosen Michael Bloomberg, I would’ve probably been ready for whole-scale revolution, right then and there. But let’s be frank here -- in 2016, we got complacent. We assumed that Trump would lose. We assumed that America wouldn’t choose racism, or Islamaphobia, or sexism, or Nazism. BUT WE DID. In the end, our country -- like many other countries before us were -- is more afraid of the promise of social change than we are of the threat of fascism. Yes, I called Trump’s vision of the country fascism, and I stand by it. Fascism is defined as far-right, authoritarian ultranationalism characterized by dictatorial authority, forcible suppression of opposition, and strong regimentation of society and the economy and often supplemented with government-sanctioned racism -- and yeah, given that Trump clearly wants to do whatever he wants whenever he wants without facing any consequences for his actions, persecute any so-called “enemies,” make money for himself while in office (even using his office and political power to achieve that end), and scapegoat minorities, I think my point is made. And so I will state it again -- America is more afraid of the future and the progress that could come with it than it is of the cruelty, bigotry, and tyranny of our past. It’s an absolute tragedy, but it’s true. Americans were absolutely terrified of Obamacare until it actually became law and people saw how cool it was, not to be booted off your care for preexisting conditions and stuff. Once that happened, Americans were ready to bite off the hand of any Republican who made any move toward repealing it. If it’s something we’ve never done before, it’s beaten back like the plague, but once it’s something we’ve become accustomed to, you can tear it from our cold, dead hands.

In the 1930′s, Germany had a choice between three political parties -- the Communists, the Democratic Socialists, and the Nazis -- and in the end, the reason the Nazis got power was because the Communists and the Socialists could not band together to stop that greater threat. The Nazis were able to paint a pretty picture to the German people of returning their country to its supposedly long lost, mythic greatness, and they won power, even if they were still not the majority when Hitler got into office. And as soon as the Nazis got power, they never let it go and went out of their way to destroy both Communists and Socialists, just like they did with Jewish people, the Romani, and the rest. We are at such a crossroads now. I am deathly afraid that the Republicans will try to find some way to keep power even if Trump were to lose, but we cannot let that happen. We must stand together, strong and united.

The more liberal of us must acknowledge that radical change cannot be put into place quickly. Our system is broken and falling apart thanks to the Republicans’ on-going sabotage, and we cannot hope to remodel our house until our foundation is secure. Even the Republicans were not able to destroy our country in so many ways these last four years without dismantling a lot of other things first -- corrupting our elections with money thanks to the Citizens United ruling -- sparking two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan that drained us of money and added to the backlog of veterans that have yet to receive their deserved financial support -- intimidating political officials away from substantive gun control legislation -- chipping away at abortion rights nation-wide -- stacking the courts, both local and Supreme, with unqualified, strongly right-leaning candidates -- gerrymandering districts like crazy so as to split Democratic-leaning areas and puff up Republican-leaning ones -- even spreading misinformation through shows on their own private so-called “News” network. It will take time to repair all of the damage the Republicans have wrought, but we must first win if we are even to have the chance to try.

On the flip side, the more centrist of us must acknowledge that we cannot go back to the way we were because the way we were was WRONG. We might have nostalgic visions of it being more civil and peaceful, but the tremors of war were still rippling under our feet. The Neo-Nazi rats that elected Trump were gathering under us, and we let them. We let them gain enough confidence to come out into the light in large numbers and we stood by, assuming that they wouldn’t succeed in their goals. We ignored the rampant spread of anti-immigrant rhetoric and Islamaphobia -- we downplayed the racism, the homophobia, and the sexism. Sometimes it was due to arrogance, and sometimes it was due to flat-out indifference, because those things didn’t directly affect us. We should know by now that that rosy view of our past was not how things were -- just as many of our Founding Fathers were still slave owners, and America interned our own citizens in camps during World War II, and the supposedly great Ronald Reagan turned a blind eye while thousands of Americans died of AIDS, our country saw the signs of racism, xenophobia, and ultranationalism coming out in full again and didn’t fight back. And now that racist, xenophobic ultranationalism is in control of the Oval Office. If we have any chance of stopping them, we can’t simply go backwards -- we must charge ahead. We can’t simply pretend like everything can go back to normal -- we must accept responsibility for what we’ve done and pursue justice in making things right. We must fight back against these far-right, tyrannical policies and we must pay restitution to those our country has hurt. I do not want the Mexican families we have destroyed to be treated the way our Japanese American brethren were after they were released from the internment camps in the 40′s -- dismissed and forgotten, with our flag figuratively slapping them in the face every time some stupid guy crowed his head off about America being the greatest country on earth. I may have hated Trump’s immigration policy -- I might not have voted for him -- but he still represents my country, and therefore me, to the rest of the world, and even if he’ll never apologize for a single damn thing that he’s done, I want my country to make things right.

Maybe once a Democrat -- even if it’s a centrist like Biden -- is in the White House again, we’ll have the chance for real change -- good change. We certainly won’t get it as long as we’re stuck on the outside looking in.

Now of course, even when this whole presidential thing is done, we can’t rest on our laurels. We must get out in force for local elections too -- we must take back the Senate and keep control of the House. We must pressure our lawmakers to get the money out of politics, and fix gerrymandering, and restore environmental protections, and hold corporations accountable, and tax the rich, and abolish the Electoral College, and put term limits on Congresspeople, and impeach Brett Kavanaugh, and fund dismantling the backlog on VA benefits, and cancel student loan debt, and implement universal health care, and pass gun control legislation, and do all the other things we need done.

I really hope that whichever candidate we end up with -- whether it’s Biden (*sighs begrudgingly*), Bernie (*smiles*), or Warren (*wiggles in glee*) -- that candidate will strongly consider choosing a Vice President who is either more centrist (if they’re more liberal) or more liberal (if they’re more centrist) and filling their Cabinet with those other ex-presidential hopefuls who still have something to offer. Kamala Harris was Attorney General of California -- why not have her become Attorney General of the United States next? How about Tom Steyer as Head of the EPA, or Cory Booker as Secretary of Housing and Urban Development?

Here’s the thing about us being more diverse in thought than the Republicans -- it means we have a great swath of very different members with very different skill sets, as well as the ability to learn, critique, rationalize, change, and improve. And if we are to defeat an institution like Trump’s that demands lock-step, mindless obedience and praise, it seems to me that’s something we should use to our advantage.

#excuse me politics coming through #personal #hopefully I won't get too many of my followers upset with this #feel free to ignore this if you're not in the mood for politics I get it #democrats #republicans #i just republiCAN’T #donald trump #joe biden #elizabeth warren #bernie sanders #opinion #oh boy here i go

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joonciaga · 5 years ago

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a/n : ↱ if ur just seeing this, hi! this is a social media au, this part just doesn’t have a setting online♡. (kinda?)

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎 ↱ namjoon’s is a famous producer and rapper signed to etc ent. recently, yn signed and is soon gonna debut under etc ent. namjoon is known for being very hardcore and a little rude sometimes. when yn gets put together with namjoon to work on her album they are at each others necks til someone breaks.

mono | part 10 | au masterlist

after getting the text from namjoon, which you’re still confused as of what he wants, you decide to head over your company’s building, showing your id at the front desk, getting into the elevator and press the 5th floor. not late after, you arrive on the floor where all the studios are. you walk up to the door that has ‘RKIVE’ written on a wooden plank hung up. you twist the nob and to your surprise it’s open. you let yourself in, and apparently namjoon doesn’t hear you come in.

your ears are filled by a song, you guess that namjoon is working on a new song for another artist since he is on high demand since your debut album. people just heard his true value. but what surprises you is that you hear his voice, instead of just an instrumental or someone elses. “all i need is me” plays and you absolutely starstuck. you sit down on the couch that he has, wanted to hear the whole song without him feeling judged. you hugged the ryan bear that was sitting next to you. before you know it the song is over and namjoon turns around.

“what the f— oh my gosh, yn.” he jumps.

“what?” you innocently say.

“i knew i told you to come here but, i didn’t expect you to be sitting there.” namjoon chuckles at that last part. namjoon thought you looked so cute how you were sitting. an oversized sweater, lose hair, that falls perfectly over your shoulders, sweater pawls, and your knees up to your chest, while you hug his favorite stuffie. he couldn’t get enough that sight.

“cute..” he says under his breath, low enough for you not to hear, unknowingly.

“huh?” you question.

“nothing, i said how’d you like it.” he starts to play with the strings off his gym shorts.

“um... it was very meaningful, i loved the baseline and the.... 2nd verse.” you speak.

“which part?”

“well, all of it. but in particular t-the.. “i feel so lonely when i’m with me.” you surprised yourself when you muttered.

you look up and your eyes meet right with namjoons. it feels as if he’s staring into your soul. not the bad kind of way, but the good way. “yeah, that’s my favorite part too.” he says without blinking. you cough and focus your attention on something else. it felt as if times stop, as cliche as that sounds. your heart maybe skipped a beat or something

“you needed me?” you say, changing the topic.

“well up, “ namjoon turns back around in his chair, “you left this.” he hands you a folder, with your name on it. “i don’t know how you survived 2 weeks of college without it.”

you stand up to be polite and he chuckles, again.

“if you’re comfortable, we can talk informally.” he changes his tone.

“oh? are you sure? i don’t wanna be rude.” you say.

“yeah, yeah it’s fine.”

“should we then?” you say informally, making him laugh.

“as long as you’re comfortable.” he laughs. “go ahead, get going, i know you have things do to.” he continues typing and clicking things.

“uh,” you don’t wanna leave, not yet. you wanna hear more songs that he possibly made, but doesn’t show anyone. “do you have anymore... songs?”

“i have a few, but they aren’t good.” he shyly says. you can automatically see he isn’t proud of his work.

“can i please hear them? the first song you played sounded so good, i wanna hear more.” you beg

“but i said—“

“you say it’s not done, or not good, it’s probably the best thing ever, please i’m just interested.”

interested. that word hits namjoon. he gives in and plays the next song... you fall in love from the first few words.

wake up in Tokyo.. you didn’t know namjoon was fluent in english, or can sing. the song ends and by now, you’re sitting down, back in your original spot, but your back is against the couch this time, so you’re more comfortable.

the whistles from the song make you shiver, it

gives you goosebumps. “wow..” you yawn.

“yeah.” he says, shifting in his chair. “do you wanna hear the rest?” he asks.

“why not?” you say. “if you’re comfortable of course.” you see him nods, can you get excited.

he plays the rest of the file that was label ‘untitled.’ and by now, you’re sound asleep.

“that’s all.” he says, “how did you like—“ he turns around in his chair and his eyes meets your sleeping body. “oh.” he slowly walks over to you and lays a blanket over you. he squats down to see your face. he actually smiles a little. his hand works instead of his brain and he sweeps a piece of hair out of your face. he noticed what he’s doing and automatically stands right back up. “stand out of it, joon.” he hits himself lightly.

namjoon sighs and sits back down in chair. afraid to wake up, or leave you alone his studio, he plugs is headphones into his laptop, not his computer and begins watching a series he’s on. before doing so, he dims the lights, so it’s not so bright.

a little later, jimin knocks on the studio door and invites himself in. “hyung-“ he says.

namjoon right away puts a finger to his mouth, indicating to tell him shut up, and then pointing to you, which jimin eyes are already on.

“oh” jimins lips form.

right after, hoseok comes in, and a little loud, “namjoonie, have you finished the-“ he says, automatically being silent after seeing you sound asleep.

everyone is pretty much having a staring contest. jimin is looking back and forward at you and namjoon, hobi is looking at you, and namjoons eyes are circling everyone.

hobi gives up and decides to wake you up. “cmon, ynie,” he shoves you. “it’s 10pm.” you wake up and get surprised at how many people are in the small room.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know i would fall asleep-“ you say.

“no, i’m sorry, for letting you fall asleep, and not waking you up sooner.” namjoon says. “it’s just that you lo— nevermind.”

you get up, still half asleep, still holding namjoons ryan plushie. “hobi, carry me, please.” you say falling asleep while standing. he sighs and gives in.

“i’ll see you guys later, then.” hoseok says before exiting the room, followed by jimin, who hasn’t said a word.

#bts #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts social media au #kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts fake texts

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hemmingsfics · 6 years ago

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Babe. LRH.

Words: 2,067 Rating: just lite angst Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Reader

A/N:Pretty much based on Babe by Sugarland and also this request, but also a little different than both things

Luke knew he had made a huge mistake as he noticed how different things appeared to be. Walls were stripped of their photographs, dates in the calendar had to be altered because those plans were now null and void, and now the only time he gets to hear the sound of her voice is when he calls and gets her voicemail. He had to be the dumbest person in the world to put a stop to his own happiness.

Y/N had left a bunch of empty holes in his life and he didn’t know how to fill them. Once upon a time he would have fixed his problem with a busty blonde and a stiff drink, but after what he had already done, that would have just added insult to injury.

He had met Heather at a party. Until that point, she was just some amateur actress that he had occasionally heard being name dropped at clubs and social events. He had been drinking prior to arriving at the party. Things in his relationship were becoming difficult. After a while, Luke had a tendency of sabotaging his own relationships. Whether it be the fear of commitment, the fear of attachment, or the fear of being happy, he always did something to ruin a perfectly okay relationship.

This time was different though. He had been seeing Y/N for almost a year and a half now, and as things got difficult, he didn’t quite know how to handle it. In his mind, one fight about their future meant they wouldn’t have one. It wasn’t that he wanted to lose his girlfriend, but more of the fact that he thought she deserved more than someone who could be so clueless when it came to being with another person.

With his friends happy to keep providing him with drinks, Luke couldn’t help but find himself talking nonstop to Heather about the girl he actually wanted to be with at the moment. Then, all of a sudden, there were cameras. People were asking why he was here with Heather and not Y/N, asking if he was cheating on her, and making things look worse than they were.

To his credit though, Luke didn’t let things go further than talking. Only, Y/N didn’t know that. All she was aware of was that they were fighting, and the next day she woke up to photos of another girl who was all over Luke. Every other second she was getting a notification from someone else who had tagged her in the same post.

Since Luke ended up sleeping at his friend Michael’s place, he hadn’t even gotten to see Y/N when the story dropped. She had been so heartbroken and devastated, that she had gathered all of the things she had there and vacated his apartment before Luke got back the next morning.

It had been three days since that morning and he was still unable to get ahold of her. She had blocked him on social media, ignored every one of his phone calls, and refused to answer the door when he went to her apartment. He had no idea what to do.

Tonight was supposed to be the movie premiere from Y/N’s latest film, and as they usually did, Luke and Y/N were supposed to go together. He knew she would go no matter what, and he figured that this would be the only opportunity he would have to finally talk to her and explain himself. Surely she could understand how the press could twist a story and turn it into something it’s not.

Luke looked hopelessly at all the things that were now missing from his apartment. There used to be so many photos of the two of them. He was incredibly proud to show off his beautiful girlfriend and would do so at any given opportunity. He was never one to shy away when being interviewed about her. He would always tell them how happy he was and how much he cared about her. Now his precious trinkets were gone without a trace. He knew if he couldn’t fix things now, he may never get her back.

He didn’t want to think about what might happen if he doesn’t right this wrong. He quickly turned his back and exited the apartment in its entirety. It was time to leave, he decided.

Luke knew people would speculate why he showed up to the event. They would wonder if the couple might still be together. They may think Luke is just an incredibly supportive ex. He knew photographers would ask stupid questions like they always do when they hound him in public. However, he didn’t care about anything other than the mission he crafted in order to get Y/N back.

When he arrived, he felt apprehension coursing through his veins. He didn’t care about the crowd of people or the screaming or any of the celebrities lining the carpet. He had one purpose at the moment. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would find her, as he didn’t think it all the way through, but as if the universe was actually on his side, it only took a few minutes before he spotted her publicist.

Her publicist, Tom, was too busy talking over a headset to even notice the frantic Luke shoving through hordes of people to get to him. “Where’s Y/N,” Luke asked, with no intention of trying to make small talk. Tom scoffed at Luke’s brashness. “You really shouldn’t be here,” he expressed, “But considering I’ve always thought you were good for business, I’ll take you to her on one condition…” Tom stated.

At this point, Luke was willing to do whatever it might take. There was no condition that he would say no to. “Do whatever you want in your spare time, but don’t ever let it be made public again. I can work with a cheating scandal, but more than one makes her look weak and that’s not the image I have for Y/N,” Tom prompted. Luke easily agreed. He had no intention of letting something like this happen ever again. Even if it wasn’t exactly his fault.

“Okay, right this way,” Tom instructed, taking Luke inside the building that held the event. He led him through a hallway that was for authorized personnel only, lined with guards who would only let you go through if you had a lanyard with a badge on it.

After a few twists and turns, Luke heard her voice before he even saw her. All of a sudden, everything between the two of them became an obstacle. Luke pushed through Tom, as well as several other people and objects until the two were standing face to face.

She had looked stunning, as usual. She was dressed to the nines. Such beauty made him forget what he needed to say, so she was the first to speak. “Luke,” She mumbled rather quietly. It was her voice that brought him back to reality.

“I know it’s a bad time, but I really need to talk to you,” he expressed as if there were no one else in the room. Just looking at him was difficult for Y/N. The last time she had seen his face was when she saw those pictures of him with another girl. “What is there left to say? You cheated on me. That’s pretty much the last straw,” she explained still not speaking much louder than a whisper.

This was what Luke was truly afraid of. He knew it would look as if he were lying, but he was so desperate that he didn’t really care about appearances. “I didn’t cheat on you. I never have and never will. Can you please just give me a chance to explain?” He begged.

He really should have thought more about what he was going to say once he saw her, but he had assumed the right words would come to him when he saw her. This proved to be somewhat of a mistake. He was now on the spot with no real way of being able to prove that nothing had happened.

He hoped his word was enough. Although looking back, Luke realized that once you’ve been labeled a cheater, your word kind of loses its meaning.

“You have five minutes. I really have to get out there soon,” she stated. She had never given their breakup an official ending. He cheated. She figured they didn’t need more of an ending than that, but seeing how torn apart Luke seemed, she decided against her better judgment to at least listen to him.

The two left the very public hallway and found a more private room where they could chat without the intrusion of everyone else.

“I know how those pictures look, but I swear to you nothing happened. I didn’t let anything happen. We just talked and I couldn’t stop talking about you. I’m sure she could even attest to that. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, when I should’ve been at the apartment with you. I just, I don’t know…we were talking about moving in together and it sort of freaked me out. I didn’t know if I was ready for that, but she helped me realize all I want is to make you happy. And after not seeing you at all these last few days especially, I realized I want to see you every day. I want you to be the first person I see in the morning and the last person I see at night. It was the idea of being with just one person forever that scared me, but as long as you’re that person, I’m not worried. I want you to be the one I marry someday and start a family with. I know that now and I was an idiot not to see it before. I love you and I will never take having you for granted ever again. Please, just give me one more chance to earn your trust back,” Luke rambled. Words were flying out of his mouth before they were going through his brain. He didn’t even know if his words made sense to anyone except himself.

Y/N was slightly shocked. He had never been so forward about the future. Sure, up until the other night, he was committed to her in terms of not being with anyone else, but Luke never wanted to talk about marriage or kids and he was so reluctant to even discuss moving in together when she had brought it up before.

She knew how she felt, but he was always unsure about even the idea of getting married to anyone at any point in his life. She knew he wouldn’t just mention that kind of thing if it wasn’t something he actually wanted. He wasn’t much of a liar, especially when it came to Y/N.

Truth be told, these had been some of the hardest days without him. She heard him calling every time and she just about broke down not allowing herself to answer it. She knew he was right outside her door, begging to speak to her, but she had to force herself to him knocking from the other side. She had wondered how he could do this and break every promise and ruin every “I love you,” he had ever expressed to her.

“You really want all of that? You’re not going to run again?” she asked.

“That was the last time, I swear. Babe, I know what I want. I’m certain of it,” Luke insisted. As he spoke, he was certain of his words. She even had to admit, she had missed the way it sounded when he called her babe. She had missed hearing his voice in general.

She reached one of her hands to touch his face. “Good, because I don’t want to give it one more shot if you’re not sure you can handle it,” she demanded.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Luke declared, pulling her closer to him. “I love you, Luke,” she whispered. He decided he would let her make the first move, so it wasn’t until she reciprocated by saying those words, that he went for a kiss.

“I love you too, babe,” he responded feeling more at peace and content than he had ever felt in his life.

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings smut #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer luke #5 seconds of summer smut #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer one shot #5sos smut #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #calum hood #ashton irwin #michael clifford

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sif-eya · 3 years ago

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Entry #4: 100222

As the campaign period starts, the People of the Philippines are starting to show support for different aspiring leaders through various modes in several platforms like social media. For the last few months, I have seen numerous 'criticisms' on the 3 most talked about political parties here in this country: the dilawans (Liberal Party — yellow), kakampinks (2022 Presidential campaign of Leni Robredo — pink), and uniteam (2022 Presidential campaign of Bongbong Marcos — green and red). We live in a society wherein if you do not support the regime, you are automatically labelled as a member of the NPA (New People's Army; a communist rebellion). There were several times when I freely expressed my thoughts in public, about how I am opposed to the decision of the higher ups as well as the elected and/or appointed government officials. As a part of the younger generation, boomers and millennials started calling me out for this, stating that I am too 'young' to be meddling with politics and that I am not entitled to my own opinions because I still don't know 'much' about how the government and the law itself works. There were also times when I got called out by my peers, saying that I must be so 'great' of a person for me not to be forgiving of the government's decisions whenever it turns out to be a fail and has wasted the taxpayers' money and that if I really know 'much', I should file a candidacy for the Presidency and they'll see if I can be 'better' than the regime that I constantly criticise. The problem here is that, people automatically labels you when you try to criticise the decisions of the government. A good example of this is "If you do not support this current regime, then you must be a dilawan. You are corrupt." or "If you do not support the Kakampinks, then you must be a Uniteam supporter. Yuck, you're supporting a tax evader, liar, and a murderer." I am fed up with all these labeling thing-y that's been going on for ages. Let me ask you: (1) Why do the Filipinos like to settle for the bare minimum? This says a lot about our country. We've been deprived of a good governance to the point that we are willing to settle for less. We become fanatics of these politicians and opinionated about our own beliefs that is fueled by the culture amd traditions from where we come from. (2) Despite the prevalent technology use, why can't we use this to our own advantage and educate ourselves other than those informations that we learn during History class? (3) In relation to #2, why is there still an alarming amount of people who are apolitical? Is this really because politics is too confusing and complicated for them, making them believe that this doesn't have an impact on their lives or are they really politically aware but afraid to voice out their opinions because of keyboard warriors here and there? (4) Why do we tend to silence the youth when they try to voice out their political standpoint? (5) There is nothing wrong with criticising the decisions of the government. Afterall, this is a democratic country whose government is for the people, by the people, and of the people. But even so, how much is too much? (6) We are all entitled to our opinions if it only benefits ourselves but it is different when we decide for something important that concerns the People of the Philippines. History repeats itself. Not everyone has a privilege like ours and if it is possible to achieve an equal and just system that also benefits the poor and the marginalised, why can't we stop being selfish for a minute and reflect on our own standpoints? (7) Why are people being fanatics over politicians as if they are some K-Pop idols like those that we see on social media? Remember that it is their job to provide for us because they are public servants. We shall not beg to be treated properly.

#politics #journal #thoughts #government

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tinuviel-undomiel · 7 years ago

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Until Proven Guilty Chapter 3: Down the Rabbit Hole

Woo hoo! I was thinking I wouldn’t finish this until next week, but boy was my muse on a roll! So here is a new chapter for all of you. I hope you like it.

Note, the book The Thirteenth Tale is a real book by Diane Setterfield and I highly recommend it.

Also found on ff.net and ao3.

The lights cut on a six o’clock, followed by the sounds of the guards ordering everyone to get out of bed, get dressed and be ready to head to the cafeteria. Gold had the bottom bunk on account of his knee so at least he had some reprieve from the harsh light. Still, it was a bit disorienting to be rudely awakened from sleep. It was his only escape from the nightmare he was now living in.

His cellmate was already getting his clothes in order and had claimed first dibs on their shared toilet. Antonio Zosorino was his name, but everyone called him Zoso. Gold rarely spoke to the man and he blessedly received the same treatment. Zoso was older than him, with thinning white hair and a heavily lined face. Despite that, he moved like a man twenty years younger. Even better, he wasn’t plagued with a bum leg.

Zoso quietly finished his ablutions and then let Gold have his turn. They both dressed and waited patiently for the guard to unlock their cellblock so they could get breakfast. The other prisoners weren’t nearly as silent as they were. Shouts were already echoing down the corridor. Someone accused another if stealing his socks. If this continued, the guards were going to have to interfere and God only knew when they would be let out for their meal then.

Thankfully, things quieted soon enough and they were released. Gold had been told by Jefferson, another resident on their block, to get in the back of the line, never skip ahead or he faced a beating. As one of the new guys, he was at the lowest end of the hierarchy. That meant he was not allowed to take the last carton of orange juice, and he couldn’t complain if they were out of sausage. He didn’t say a word as he got behind Jefferson and Whale, the only two people who not only acknowledged his existence, but were also friendly to him. He’d only been in prison for three weeks, so he couldn’t call them friends really, at least not yet. It was hard to imagine that he was contemplating being friends with a drug dealer and a man who’d sold organs on the black market, but this was his life now.

“Think they’ll have bacon today?” Jefferson asked.

Whale shook his head, “Nah, that’s only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Today is oatmeal and toast.”

“They better not run out of grape jelly.”

Gold didn’t really care what was on the menu. His eyes kept drifting to the clock on the wall, counting down the hours until ten. Killian had promised to bring Bae to see him today. It has been difficult, finally deciding to let Bae see him in this place, but the longing to see his son was worse than the shame of knowing his son would remember him like this. However, Bae had begged to see him, terrified that he would never get to see him again like his mother, so it was better this way.

There was a bit of commotion up at the start of the line. Apparently, there was only one piece of sausage left and two other men were arguing over who had dibs on it. There was probably more being made in the kitchen, but considering the location, this was no guarantee. Jefferson had warned Gold that several years ago there had been a riot over cookies so it was best to keep a careful eye on these things in case one had to duck away from a flying tray or wayward fist.

Gold had pretty much decided lukewarm oatmeal wasn’t worth any broken bones, even if he was rather hungry, when both prisoners suddenly stopped. He watched as Zoso broke through the line, snatched up the last sausage and took a bite out of it in front of the two squabbling prisoners. He continued to chew, staring at them both. Neither man blinked. At last, they moved on with their trays, casting glances at Zoso who continued to stare them down. It was ludicrous that a man twice their age could intimidate two burly, tattooed men, but somehow this was the case.

He wondered over this, sneaking glances at Zoso who had taken his breakfast and sat down at the far end of one of the tables, completely alone. Gold took his food and was waved over to where Jefferson and Whale were. Jefferson was mixing his jelly with his oatmeal until it was a shade of lavender then spooning it onto his dry toast. “Don’t knock it till you try it,” he said when he caught Whale’s quizzical look.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“It’s not like we get sugar or cinnamon here anyways. I always hated oatmeal as a kid. Always reminded me of vomit.”

“Now it looks like grape vomit,” Whale said, wrinkling his nose, “Very appetizing.”

Gold hardly paid attention to their asinine conversation. He kept glancing over at Zoso who was quietly eating his oatmeal, completely alone. He used to think he was a tough-as-nails kind of person. Certainly he’d developed a reputation for being a hard on his tenants when they were late with their rent, but he was a kitten compared to many of the men in this place. Yet all of them had bowed to Zoso. Was he some sort of serial killer he’d never heard of? Why were they afraid of him?

He was wondering if he should be concerned about sleeping below this man, when Jefferson apparently noticed his gaze. “Don’t stare too long or you may not have eyes.”

That snapped his attention back to his breakfast. “Is he really that dangerous?”

Jefferson shrugged. “Usually he keeps to himself, but if you trip that wire…” he smacked his hand down on the table for emphasis. “Kaboom!”

Gold looked over at Zoso again, trying to be stealthy about it. It was still hard to be wary about a man older than him just quietly eating his oatmeal and sausage. “What is in for?”

Everyone had a story here. He was asked what he had done when he had first arrived. He wasn’t the only one saying he was innocent, so no one was really surprised that he said he had be wrongly convicted of murdering his wife, but he doubted they believed him. Some challenged him, most just said nothing.

“He’s got the biggest rap sheet here,” Jefferson said, “Guy has been convicted of killing nine people, probably more.”

Gold tried to hide his surprise as best he could, but Jefferson still grinned at him so he knew he had failed. Whale had obviously heard of this before because he merely shrugged. “I head it was closer to twenty.”

“Just who is he exactly?” Gold asked. Now he was seriously wondering if he was bunking with Ted Bundy.

“He was a hitman for the mob,” Jefferson said, “Worked for the Falconi family in Boston. Rumor is his grandfather was the big one himself, Capone.”

The latter Gold wasn’t sure on; since likely someone would also say his uncle was Vito Corleone, but the former actually made a lot of sense. There was a hierarchy in prison, and someone with a large body count and ties to the mob would certainly be on the top of that pyramid.

Gold went back to his breakfast, silently contemplating if he should be concerned that he had to share a cell with this man. Still, if Zoso wanted to kill him, he doubted there was anything he could do to stop him. Best to stay on his good side then.

There was some shame in knowing that he would only be able to glimpse his son through a glass wall, but Gold told himself he didn’t care. He hadn’t seen Bae in weeks. If this were the only way he could visit with his son, then he would do it.

The guard escorted him to the visiting station. Killian was already there on the side for those who were free with Bae perched on his lap. His son eagerly scrambled for the little black phone, speaking into it before Gold could even lift his own to his ear.

“Papa, I miss you!”

“I miss you too, Bae,” he said.

“When are you coming home?”

Gold looked over and Killian who gave him a sad shrug. So he did the only thing he could do for his son: lied. “Soon, very soon, how are things in pre-school?”

“Good. I learned French!”

Gold smiled at him. “French? Wow, what did you learn in French?”

“A song. Fray-er Jack.”

Gold chuckled a little. “Can you sing it to me?”

Bae nodded and began to sing “Fray-er Jack, Fray-er Jack/ Dom may voo, dom may voo.” He pressed his little hand up to the glass as he sang, reaching for his father. Gold blinked through tears, adding his voice to the song and placing his palm over Bae’s. He could almost feel the warmth of his son’s hand through the thick glass.

“That was beautiful, Bae,” he said when he had finished.

“Belle likes it too. She’s working at the library now.”

A rush of relief filled him at that bit of news. He had been wondering what had happened to Belle after he was convicted. Aside from himself and Bae, Belle was another victim who had endured so much because of all of this. The media had labeled her the “other woman”, with much speculation that she had been involved in the murder. Of course, this was absolutely ridiculous, but he knew that since he was gone now everyone would be talking about her.

He smiled a little though at the thought of Belle being surrounded by all of her beloved books. “I’m sure she’s happier there than she was at my shop.”

“She read me a book,” Bae said gleefully, “Horton Hears a Who.”

“Did you like it?”

“Uh huh. She promised to read me another one when we go back.”

“That sounds wonderful.” The clock was ticking away, betraying the fact that their time was quickly running out. No father should have to limit his time with his son to just four hours a month.

“Bae, can you hand the phone over to Uncle Killian now? I want to talk to him a bit.”

“Okay, Papa.” Bae dutifully passed the black phone over to Killian. His friend smiled at him and said, “Hey, you doing okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s an adjustment, but it’s not terrible.” It wasn’t a completely lie. Being away from Bae was torture, and he hated the fact that he was no longer free to do what he wanted, but he kept to himself mostly so the rest of the prisoners left him alone. Besides, Jefferson and Whale were decent guys. Granted, it wasn’t a picnic knowing he was sharing a bunk with a hitman.

“I’m glad you’re doing okay then, I worry about you,” Killian said.

“I’ll be fine. Is Bae doing all right?”

Killian shrugged, “Like you said, it’s an adjustment. He misses you and his mom like hell, but he’s a trooper.”

“That’s good. Is the town treating him okay?”

Killian nodded. “They haven’t bothered us. Belle on the other hand…Granny and Ruby are sticking by her, but a lot of the others have sort of ostracized her.”

He knew Ruby and her grandmother would have Belle’s back, probably Leroy too, but the rest…? Certainly Mother Superior and her nuns would be in full swing condemning her for her supposed sins, just as they did everyone else. Ms. Ginger and her gossip gang would be spreading rumors all over the place, no doubt spinning this whole thing into a clandestine affair that culminated in Milah’s death.

“Hopefully that will die down soon,” he said, though he didn’t believe his own lies. Maybe she could save up enough and move to another town where no one would know her. Oh God, her college. He had been helping her out financially with that. He knew Belle would love her job at the library, but it wouldn’t pay as well as he had. She’d have to take out loans if she didn’t drop out entirely. The thought of that twisted his gut painfully. She deserved so much more in life than that.

The treacherous clock told him their time was almost up. Gold glared at it, willing time to stop entirely. “I suppose it’s almost time for you to go. Thank you, Killian, I can never repay everything you have done for me.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to repay,” Killian said, “We’re practically family. You’d do the same for me.”

Gold nodded, knowing it was true but wishing that none of this had happened. “Can I say goodbye to, Bae?”

“Yeah, of course.” Killian handed the phone back to Bae.

“Papa?” Bae asked, “Do you have to go back to the playroom now?”

Ah, so that was what Killian called it. He nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so, you be good for Uncle Killian now. You’ll be back to see me very soon, I promise.”

“Can’t I go with you?”

“I’m afraid it’s only for grown ups. But hopefully I’ll be out of here soon and I can be with you all the time.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, clearly not happy with the notion of having to wait, “Bye bye, Papa.”

Gold couldn’t blink back his tears. “Goodbye, son.”

It was nearly lunchtime, and the library was completely empty save for Belle. She didn’t mind the solitude, but this hour was always a little painful for her on Wednesdays. Mr. Gold had always bought her lunch on this day, usually from Granny’s. He always got her favorite, a cheeseburger with fries and extra pickles with a large iced tea. They would sit in the back of his shop, eating and talking about books, sometimes even arguing over which authors were superior (Jane Austen would always best Sir Walter Scott and nothing would change her mind on that). Mr. Collins enjoyed books too, but he was too mild-mannered to ever carry a lively conversation.

In these silences, her mind would more often than not wander to Callum and what he must be enduring in that prison. Did he have a library? Could he read books? Was he all right?” She longed to talk to him again. When Bae said he was going to go visit him, Belle had almost asked to tagalong. Granny had talked her out of a visit. “Everyone is watching you right now,” she’d said, “Don’t add fuel to the fire or you’ll wind up with third degree burns.”

But it felt so very wrong to sit here, listening to the clock tick on, knowing Callum was locked away for a crime she knew in her heart he didn’t commit. Did he ever think of her the way she thought of him? Surely his first thought had to be of Bae, of course, but…did he miss her?

The silence was starting to suffocate her, cloying at her throat and pricking tears in her eyes. She had to speak to him, or at least let him know that she was still his friend. The notion now too strong to fight, Belle rummaged through the desk for a pad of paper and a pen. She couldn’t call him, couldn’t see him, but she could write to him. He would like that. He’d always hated phones, calling them a “bloody nuisance”. A letter would be more fitting.

How to begin though? Dear Mr. Gold? Dearest friend? Nothing seemed right. Finally, she simply wrote, “Dear Callum,” and that felt like an okay place to start, though it fell short of what she truly felt.

I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write to you. I wanted to see you the day after the trial, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me there. Granny and Ruby told me it was better to let you and the rest of the town adjust before I did anything.

I am working at the library now. I remember when you offered to buy me the library once if I would deal with Ms. Ginger when she wanted to sell her collection of hatpins. She was so bitter when you told her that they were worth only fifty dollars all together. Those were good times.

Belle blinked back tears at the memory of them laughing in the back of the shop, mimicking her indignant shriek that she had not stumbled upon the metaphorical gold mine she’d been after.

I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t bring up those times. I think of you quite often. I hope you are as well as you can be. Is there anything I can get for you? About all I can offer you would be books. Do you have a library there? If not, I’d be happy to send you some books to read. I just finished a wonderful Gothic story that I think you might like.

Bae came in the other day and told me about his visit. I think he is doing well. He loves coming here to see me every now and then. I think he’s adjusting well, but he misses you terribly. So do I. I miss my friend and the best boss in the world.

There was more to say, but Belle kept her pen from jotting down those private thoughts. He had lost his wife and was locked behind bars, what good would it do him letting him know that she had a silly crush on him? The thought of Milah sent a pang of guilt in her heart. She had never cared for Mrs. Gold, had even fantasized that she would leave Callum on a few occasions, but now the woman was dead. Surely she was the worst person in the world for having wished a man’s wife gone like that.

Would it be all right if I came to visit you soon? I miss hearing your voice and simply talking to you. I can let you know more about how school and Storybrooke is doing, perhaps even bring you something from Bae.

Please, write to me if you can. Know that I miss you and think of you all the time.

She gnawed on the top of her pen, mulling over how to close it. She was tempted to put “Love, Belle” but that felt like too personal, but “you’re friend” seemed woefully lacking. Instead, she signed it as “You’re friend and favorite employee,” hoping that would make him smile a bit.

Belle stuffed the letter in an envelope and addressed it. She hurried outside and put it into the public mailbox before she lost her nerve completely. Perhaps Joe, the mailman, would tell someone about her letter, but there were no secrets in this town anyways. Besides, she wasn’t ashamed of her friendship with Mr. Gold. She knew he was innocent, knew it in the bottom of her heart. There were other things in her heart as well, which had her musing that perhaps there was a secret of two in Storybrooke after all.

The letter from Belle had been a lovely surprise. Killian had sent him pictures Bae had drawn and notes fairly regularly, but Gold hadn’t heard from Belle since he was convicted. He hadn’t expected to hear anything from her. She was young, and certainly had to be embarrassed about her association with him, so he had figured she would do the expected and sever all ties with him. Despite his expectations, there was a warmth in his heart when he saw her name on the envelope. He had missed her, more than he had anticipated he would.

He took some of the plain paper he was given and used the back of a hardcover book as a desk. The pen he had was temperamental, but it was better than nothing. Zoso lay in his own bunk and showed no interest in what he was up to.

Dear Belle,

You have no idea how much it warms my heart to hear from you. Bae had said you were working in the library now. I suspect most of the shelves are empty since you have borrowed all of the books for yourself. I’m sure you must be relieved that you no longer have to deal with my accounts or my stock. Now you have your dream job: being paid to read.

It almost seemed mocking, but he knew Belle would understand when he was teasing her.

If you happen to look up from between pages, do send me some of your books. While we have a library here, it is even smaller than yours and filled mostly with bodice rippers. Some of the men here enjoy that material, but I have never seen the appeal.

I am well. While I wouldn’t say I’m not intending to be crowned Miss Congeniality of the cell-block, I’ve met some fellow prisoners who are not bad men, just made some mistakes. I miss you and Bae terribly. I find myself thinking of better times as well, and hoping that I can find them again.

I won’t bore you with the legal details, but my lawyer is planning on filing an appeal. She seems confident it will be reviewed, but until then I must wait patiently.

I hope school is going well for you. I’m sorry I won’t be of much help to you now, but promise me you won’t give up on it. You can do so much, Belle. I’ve always known that about you.

Be well, my dearest friend. I look forward to hearing more from you.

Ever yours,

Callum Gold

The letter was put in the next batch of mail. Less than a week later, Gold was handed over a package. Inside the pre-opened package was a book called The Thirteenth Tale and a letter from Belle.

Dear Callum,

I’ll have you know that the library is still quite full here. I’m very careful to borrow no more than five books at a time. I will say that I have learned quite a few things. Did you know that Mother Superior actually has a fondness for bodice rippers as well? Perhaps I should send you a list of her favorites so you can compare with your friends there.

I do hope you enjoy the book I sent you. It’s a twisted story of family secrets, and it has quite a twist in it that I certainly did not see coming. Tell me what you think of it when you finish. I miss talking about books with you.

The letters continued between them. Gold enjoyed receiving a letter from Belle at least once a week or so, and a book here and there. He got so used to this that he nearly missed the fact that he hadn’t heard anything from Killian and Bae in a while. After six letters from Belle, Gold realized that the last note he had received from his son was before Belle had sent him that first book. Shame and worry rocked through him all at once. Why had it taken so long for him to realize he hadn’t heard from his son? Worse still, why hadn’t he received any word from Bae or Killian in weeks?

The next day he went to make a phone call, a rarity since he was still new and hadn’t been given the privilege much. He dialed Killian’s number, but only received the three-note tone and the robotic voice telling him the phone number was no longer in service. That didn’t seem right. What the hell was going on?

He tried the number three more times, but it was the same message over and over again. Had Killian gotten a new number? Why? Had something worse happened? Where was his son?

Despite the pain he’d endured during the trial, it wasn’t until now that Gold truly felt helpless. He couldn’t do anything behind bars. All of his money had been turned over in trust to Bae and power of attorney belonged to Killian. He didn’t know how to get in touch with Killian now.

Gold worried over it, staying up all night. By breakfast, he’d decided that there was nothing to be terribly concerned about. Killian probably dropped his cellphone in the ocean on his boat. Maybe he and Bae had gone out for a nice little vacation on the Jolly Roger. They probably just had to get away for a little while. They’d be back and have lots of stories to tell.

When the guard told him that he had a visitor, Gold was relieved. It had to be Bae and Killian. He smiled broadly as he made his way to the visiting center. It faltered for only a moment when he saw it wasn’t his son at all.

Belle grinned back at him from behind the glass and waved. His smile returned, despite his disappointment, he was more than happy to see her. She wore a lovely green blouse with a blue skirt and matching green flowers on it, always managing to look better than any model on those glossy magazines. “Hey,” she said in her usual bubbly way.

“Hey back,” he teased her, “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, at this point anything would be lovely after being stuck with only convicts for company.”

Belle stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation.

“I’m surprised to see you,” Gold told her, “You didn’t tell me you were planning to visit.”

“That is the point of a surprise,” she said, “I missed talking to you, really talking to you.”

“So do I, but I am enjoying your letters.”

“And the books?”

“Of course. The Thirteenth Tale was particularly good.”

Belle grinned at him. “I knew you would like it.”

Their conversation quickly evolved into their usual debate on books. She had brought him three to read this time because she couldn’t decide which one he would like best. She also started talking to him about Storybrooke. Apparently the schoolteacher, Mary Margaret Blanchard, had been having an affair with David Nolan. It was quite the scandal, and the Nolans were definitely getting a divorce.

“How is Bae doing?” he asked her, desperate to know something.

“Oh, well I haven’t heard much from him, you know since he and Killian left.

Gold felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Left?”

“Yeah, they left, were headed down to Boston I think. Killian must have told you this, didn’t he?”

Gold swallowed back his growing panic. He couldn’t let her worry about this. Belle had far too much on her plate as it was. “Of course he did,” Gold said, hoping he sounded convincing, “I just hadn’t realized they’d left already. I hadn’t received word from them yet.”

“Oh, well I’m sure they are just busy getting things set up,” Belle said, “I’m sure Bae will tell you all about Boston soon enough.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I’m sure you’re right.”

He returned to the phone the next day, this time making a call to the Storybrooke Post Office. Agatha Wiltshire was manned the phones at the Post Office and she was never that good at remembering people all that will. Gold did his best to hide his accent and hoped for the best.

“Hi, It’s Killian Jones. I haven’t been receiving any of my mail since I arrived and I just want to make sure I got the address and phone number right for my transfer.”

“Oh, no problem, Mr. Jones,” Agatha said. Good, she was as dense as he remembered.

Agatha hummed some asinine tune in his ear while she rifled for through the paperwork. He started looking at the clock, hoping she wouldn’t use up all of his time by giving him an off-key rendition of I Dream of Jeanie.

“Okay, I’ve got it.” Gold got his pencil and scrap paper ready. “I’ve got your new address as 732 Beaumont St N, Apartment 13. And your new number listed is 555-9771. Is that right?”

“Yes, that is correct, thank you, Agatha,” Gold told her, “You’ve been most helpful.”

He hung up quickly, grateful that he still had some time left, and quickly dialed the new number. It rang twice, then Killian answered with a cheerful, “Hello, who is this?”

“Killian, what the hell are you doing?”

“Callum?” the surprise in Killian’s voice would have amused Gold once, but not anymore, “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Why are you in Boston? What the hell is going on?”

“I’m sorry, man, we just needed to get away for a while. Bae was having nightmares. I thought a change of scenery would be good, and I got this new job lined up. I was going to tell you, but it happened so fast.”

“Just put my son on the phone,” Gold seethed. The phone crackled a bit then he heard Bae’s tiny voice answer, “Papa?”

“Oh, Bae, it’s good to hear your voice, son.”

“Hi, Papa. We’re in Boston.”

“I know you are. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, but I miss you. Can you come visit?”

Gold blinked back tears. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. But I’m sure Killian will bring you by to see me soon.”

“But I want to go to the park with you.”

“I want that too, son, I really do. I’m trying to get out of here to see you. I’ll find a way, I promise.”

“Good,” Bae said, “Then it will be like it was before. You, me, and mommy.”

Gold swallowed thickly. “Bae, honey, I told you, mommy is in heaven.”

“No she’s not, she’s at the store.”

Gold frowned at the wall. “What?”

He heard the sound of a door opening, and then a familiar voice call out, “I’m home!” Gold felt all of the blood drain from his face. His heart stopped when Bae called out, “Mommy! Papa is on the phone!”

“M-Milah?” he gasped out. Then the line went dead.

For a full day, Gold was in shock. He didn’t think he said ten words to anyone. He ate his meals without tasting a thing. He crawled into bed, but stared at the top bunk with wide-eyes, trying desperately not to think about any of it. There was only one thing that resounded clearly through his muddled mind: Milah was alive.

The next day, he broke through. He tried to sort out the facts. 1. Milah clearly hadn’t been murdered. 2. Killian some how had found her. 3. The two of them were hiding out together.

Gold tried to piece all of that together into a clear picture. He had written down all of the crime scene evidence earlier while he tried to figure out the best approach for appeal. Now he added to that, trying to figure out how Milah was not dead and why she hadn’t come forward. He started positing various scenarios. Milah didn’t have any living family, saying her mother died of cancer when she was twelve and her father in a drunk-driving accident when she was in her twenties. Perhaps there was more to the story she had never told him. Was it possible she had been on the run? He’d heard of stories where people faked their deaths to hide form drug lords and crime bosses. Perhaps she had done that to protect him and Bae. Killian might have been digging into this and found her. Now they were in hiding together, trying to figure out a way to help him and bring their family back together.

He started listing any details he knew about Milah’s past, anything that might give a lead to this theory. He worked for days on it, crossing things out and starting anew. He barely ate, didn’t sleep. Gold didn’t even realize that he had an observer.

Gold had returned from a meeting with his lawyer to find Zoso sitting on his bed, leafing through his notes. “What the hell are you doing?” Gold demanded of him.

“Browsing,” the older man said casually like he was looking through a book in a library.

“That’s my personal information.”

“Nothing is personal in prison, you should know that by now.”

Gold reached out to take the notebook. “Give it back!” Zoso relinquished it without a fight. “I’m trying to find out what happened with my wife, it’s private.”

“Oh I can see that,” Zoso said with a shrug, “Not going very well.”

“It’s going just fine.”

Zoso let out a mirthless chuckle. “You’re so blind, Gold. You’re wife’s alive and you’re confused as to how all of this happened?”

Gold pursed his lips, desperately trying to control himself. This man was dangerous, but he’d always been a bit heedless of danger when his temper was at it’s highest. “I’m not confused. I’m working on it.”

He laughed again. “You’re a smart man, right? Went to law school. I bet you graduated at the top of your class.”

“Valedictorian,” Gold snapped at him.

“Well, Val, seems to me that a smart man like you would know the simplest explanation is usually the right one.” Zoso said. He calmly stood up from Gold’s bed. At his full height, he was a few inches shorter than Gold, but the way he looked at him made Gold feel like one of Snow White’s dwarves.

“The jury certainly reached that conclusion. Twelve average people with twelve average brains decided that the simplest explanation for a missing wife and a husband with a possible mistress and blood on his hands meant the husband killed her. I bet you would have thought the same thing if you were in their place.”

Zoso took a step towards him. “You know the truth, Gold. It’s been whispering in your above-average mind like a tiny little worm, but you’ve been trying to ignore. Just say it. Say what you already know to be true.”

Gold swallowed thickly, hating this man with every fiber of his being, and wishing he could deny it all.

“Say it!” Zoso demanded.

That worm he spoke of was screaming now. He was right. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“They set me up,” he whispered hoarsely, “Milah and Killian, they did it together. They knew I would make sure to put everything in Bae’s name, and that I would give custody over to Killian. Once everything was final, they would just have to slip away and they would have everything: my money and my son. They planned it all. They planned to put me in prison so they could take everything away from me.”

Bitter tears formed in his eyes, but he blinked them away. As much as the words hurt his throat, a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He could see everything so perfectly now. Killian’s remarks about his friendship with Belle were designed to make it look like he was having an affair. Milah had made sure to tell her friends how frightened she was of him. The getaway on their anniversary had been their idea. The sailing lessons…God, how could he have been so stupid to believe it all?

Zoso clapped his hands and gave him a mocking smile. “Welcome to fucking Wonderland, Gold. Guess that bitch the Queen of Hearts got you good.”

#until proven guilty #tinny writes fics #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #double jeopardy au

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blushingpinkroses · 7 years ago

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Midnight Inferno: Prologue

Prologue - August 26 2017

Niall Horan; Publicist

Harry wasn’t listening to Niall, it was clear that he wasn’t budging on not making an appearance at ‘lame’ party at some ‘stupid’ Gallery. Niall had been pleading with him to make an effort and engage in social activities. He was required to, as it was stipulated in the contract he signed just over a year ago to make appearances in order to promote Midnight Inferno in the months leading up to its anticipated release.

“I’m not nagging you! I’m your Publicist and this is literally my job! This Gala will be so simple and easy. You just go in, walk around, compliment the pieces to the right people, take a few pictures and come home.” Niall’s blue eyes had brightened against the reddening colour of his skin. He was utterly exhausted to put it simply.

He had been working late and starting early for weeks, making excuses as to why his client decided that he no longer wanted to attend this event, no longer wanted to greet people other events and many more engagements that had been set up weeks and sometimes months in advance. Niall had been racking his brain for ways to keep the paparazzi and the media satisfied with the lack of opportunities to pap the latest James Bond star.

Harry had decided that he would rather stay home, become a recluse, than face the media’s wrath about his past mistakes and ones he was sure make in the future. Especially since the latest story surfaced. It was the ultimate disaster that every Publicist feared. Harry had refused to leave his house for weeks. Niall had had to call him every night to make sure that he had eaten that day. It was a complete nightmare.

Niall nearly had a brain aneurysm when he saw the article. It was a mistake, and Harry could admit to that, he knew that he shouldn’t have gone to that party. He knew he should’ve called Niall ahead of time and made sure that there wouldn’t be any photographers. Harry knew that Lydia Jackson had a nasty reputation for her wild and out of control parties. She was known for trouble and he had practically waltzed right into the fire.

It was a media blood bath. Pictures say a thousand words and there were hundreds of photos featuring Harry and the other party-goers splashed on every gossip website within hours of the party being shut down by police. Sources came forward relaying to the press that the party was an alcohol and drug fueled rave. Scandalous stories came out about Harry having partied hard. Harry wasn’t afraid to admit that he did enjoy the party life and drinking himself to oblivion for the sake of a good time, but this was another matter completely.

Niall had screened calls from Nigel for three days and knew that he would be in the shit for several weeks. Harry had told Niall all he could remember from the night was drinking double whiskeys and having a quickie with Madison Harris in Lydia’s spacious walk-in wardrobe before everything turned black. Then, being woken by a rather forceful Policeman wrangling him out of the cupboard he somehow ended up in, saying he’d be questioned for the illegal drugs found at the party.

After he and several other socialites had been tested for drugs in their system, he’d been let go. His test came back negative as he tried and failed to convince the police it would. Though it confirmed that Harry was teetering very closely to the edge of alcohol poisoning. But this didn’t matter to the Press. Once it was published, Niall knew that the media would hold that against Harry for the rest of his life and certainly his career.

James Bond 00’coke was one publishers leading headline and everything started spiraling after that. Harry had been so embarrassed about what had happened at the party. He knew that he would never do drugs, even completely fucked, he never would. It wasn’t him.

Niall had fought hard to get the images taken down and the press to look at the wonderful things Harry had done in the past. But Harry was constantly labelled as a man who loved to many women at once, who had issues with his anger, who got blackout drunk and partied. Though these were true to an extent, Harry was sick of having to answer the same questions each time he was out in public. But in the wake of that scandal, the Press was having a field day making up outrageous stories about Harry that they had nothing left to do but take legal action.

“Come on man, please. Just do this one appearance. I’ll talk to Nigel tonight and see what we can do to get the press off your back.” Niall was on the verge of falling to his knees and begging Harry to go.

Harry stared at Niall, his green eyes flickered, clearly sorting through the pros and cons. After what felt like an eternity for Niall, Harry rose up from the chair he was slumped in, and placed his hand on Niall’s shoulder. Niall noticed the dark colours pillowing under his eyes and the way his unkempt hair curled in several directions. His friend needed help, needed some kindness.

“Alright, I’ll go- “Niall nearly cried. “- you’ll come with me, I’ll do whatever it was you said earlier about saying nice things about the weird pictures or something.” He looked somewhat defeated, but Niall reassured him that this was an organised and professional invitation-only event where the Press were only allowed outside the building.

Niall knew that he and Nigel would need to come up with something that would bring Harry positive coverage by the media. Something that would help him to put himself back together, something involving creativity and kindness. Niall knew that Harry was beginning to fade into a shadow of the talented, lively, ridiculous and kind person he was when they started working together after Harry was cast on Flowers in the East.

They had quickly become friends and colleagues, and over the past few years, Niall had noticed that the constant negativity from the media and self-doubt had caused Harry to build a very high and defensive wall around himself. Consequently, he stopped showing who he really was and started to portray a version of himself to the media. It was as though Harry Styles was an alternative person to young man he had met five years earlier.

Niall had to help his friend. He knew that everything from now was crucial. The premiere of Midnight Inferno was in November. Nigel had Harry lined up to do five weeks of promotional TV show appearances, editorials and photo shoots leading up to the Premiere here in London.

Niall had two months to boost Harry’s confidence and public image in order for him to be comfortable enough to go outside again. Before he had no choice but to face the media.

He knew it needed to be done soon, and he knew that it needed to be spectacular. But getting Harry to agree would be a challenge. A challenge he was willing to accept.

#midnight inferno #prologue #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #one direction fanfiction #i hope you like it #1dff

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dazzlingkai · 8 years ago

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Wait, what happened with Iron and his (ex) gf? did he abuse her :O I'm so shocked! I hadn't heard anything about this.

Hello! It’s alright, bby. I’ve got you.

According to the sources, he did. I’m going to summarize it for you. The date when this happened, was actually last year (2016). A lot of articles have been popping up, so I’m going to put these ‘events’ in order for you. Hope this helps!

According to the Seoul Central Police, Iron beat his girlfriend because she wasn’t listening to him, causing fractures. Prosecutors said last September, while Iron and girlfriend ‘A’ were having sex, ‘A’ refused Iron’s demands. He beat her face with his fists in anger. About fifteen days afterward, ‘A’ decided to break up with Iron. He then choked and beat her, causing injuries and fracturing her left pinky. He then threatened her by stabbing himself with a kitchen tool and then telling her that if she called the police, he would tell them she stabbed him.

After the news broke out, Iron released a statement saying,“The first time we met was for an album jacket photo shoot. She was the model for my album. Her biggest problem was that she was a masochist in sexual sadomasochism. In the beginning, I was really shocked. She always asked me to be violent. She said that’s the only way she was satisfied. It was never physical assault. It was self-defense against her ruthless violence. I was so afraid of her in that state, and I found out she has a boyfriend so we broke up. She was my girlfriend once, so I know the kind of warped mentality she can have. As I got to know her, the more I felt extreme dread. I did not harshly assault the woman nor did I threaten her. I’m a person with a lot of flaws, but I have not caused harm to others or hurt them because of my wants.” You know… I’m perfectly aware and OK with people being interested in some kinky shit. That is perfectly fine! But even BDSM have their boundaries (fyi, people who participate in BDSM have commented on this, saying that this is not BDSM!!!). Who the hell is alright with having their face punched, being violently strangled, and getting stomped on, then later having their pinky fractured ???

After he literally clarified that she was a model for him (aka exposing her), the netizen quickly found out who she was, and stalked her SNS account. She had (according to others) ‘disturbing’ pictures on her SNS; pictures of dildos and bleeding/period panties. Some pictures also showed signs of interest in BDSM (she was tied up in some pictures). And because of that, people started to believe Iron’s statement. Just because she is very open and sexual on her SNS, doesn’t mean she can’t be a victim of sexual assault, nor can it justify the violence that was used against her.

Then on March 14th, her ex-boyfriend (but now they’re back together again?) spoke up about the incident: “On March 14, a man (hereafter referred to as “B”) addressed the situation on his personal Facebook account, introducing himself as the boyfriend of the woman who was allegedly assaulted by Iron. In the posting, “B” gave his perspective of the events that occurred and how he came to understand the situation. He also shared his thoughts on Iron’s statement (held on March 14), and explained why “A” did not come forward to the press right after the assault happened. “B” then stressed that this case was reported because she was threatened and assaulted when she tried to end her relationship and also warned that they will take legal action against the harmful comments and false claims made about “A.” Finally, he revealed a conversation that “A” had with Iron’s older sister, who allegedly attempted to reach an agreement with her five months after the assault occurred. The full Facebook post “B” wrote reads as follows:“Hello, I am the boyfriend of ‘A,’ Iron’s assault victim. Since the beginning of my relationship with ‘A,’ a lot has changed for me. I originally thought that being alone was comfortable. But after being with her, I felt like I wanted to take care of this person for the first time in my life. Even now, when I see ‘A’ going through such a difficult time, I can’t stand it so much that I’m losing my mind. And while I’m not good with words, I have the courage to speak up instead of just thinking ‘The truth will come out’ or ‘It seems like the lies will become the truth.’ When I was with ‘A,’ we both got bored of our relationship, and so we fought a lot, grew tired of how things were, and stopped contacting one another. (I knew the truth about ‘A’ seeing Iron during this time because she told me herself.) ‘A’ contacted me at 7 a.m. on October 5th, saying ‘I’m going through a hard time. Can I come over? I’m such a mess right now. I’m sorry for always making things difficult.’ I refused because I had wanted to end things with her. However, I had an uncomfortable feeling that I couldn’t shake off, and I began to worry about what might have happened to her. Then I got a call from an unknown number. When I answered the phone, it turned out to be from Iron. I was in the middle of something at the time, so I thought it was her father calling to tell me that something had happened to her. But when I went to meet him, it turned out to be Iron. He was in an agitated state, and was hitting his own face while saying, ‘If you have something you want to say to me, then say it.’I tried to calm him down and told him that we should talk. So we had a conversation over some beer. When Iron and I began to talk, I wanted to settle our misunderstandings. (At the time, I had no idea that ‘A’ had been physically assaulted by him.) He told me that he called things off with ‘A’ early in the morning after the two had a fight, and said that we could help each other out if we had a problem with ‘A.’ When he spoke like that, I started to doubt him. Soon enough, I found out the truth about how he assaulted her, and I hated myself for rejecting her call. When I found ‘A,’ her face and body were literally a mess. She had a split lip, and parts of her face and her body were bruised. One of her fingers was fractured too. (At the time, she had not gone to the hospital, so we did not know it was a fracture.) When I saw that ‘A’ was too scared to report him because of the possible retaliation, it hurt my heart so much. While she was afraid of retaliation at first, ‘A’ reported him. Over the next five weeks, she was diagnosed and received surgery. After leaving the hospital, she was afraid of being in her own house and so she stayed with me instead. She received psychological counseling. Even now, the surgeries for her fractured finger are still not finished. Her parents worried a lot and lost sleep over their concern that the public would believe Iron’s word over hers. It makes me so angry to see the victims going through such difficulty while the abuser is fine. Today, articles stating that the case ‘happened six months ago’ were released without prior notice. ‘A’ could have taken the incident to the media as soon as it happened, but she was scared that her personal information would be released. And like the previous celebrity sexual assault cases, she was afraid of being labeled as a snake who tries to get settlement money. However, because of Iron’s fake interview, the victim’s personal information has been disclosed. And because of this, ‘A,’ who has already had to deal with assault, now has to face cyberbullying. The point of the case is that she was threatened and assaulted when trying to end the relationship. It is not about sex or her sexual preferences. Also, the gossip involving her old modeling pictures is causing a second round of pain for the victim. A’ is not thinking about whether or not she will get settlement money. She isn’t even thinking about reaching an agreement with him. Additionally, we are currently taking screenshots of harmful comments, false information, and defamation of character made against ‘A’ online, and we have appointed a lawyer to take on the case. Lastly, I have attached a conversation between ‘A’ and Iron’s older sister. Five months ago, she attempted to reach out to ‘A’ to come to an agreement.”

At the start of the conversation, Iron’s sister introduces herself, saying that she is contacting ‘A’ on his behalf and would like to “meet to apologize and have a conversation.” ‘A’ responds by telling her about the counseling she received and the status of her fractured finger, adding that “seeing [Iron’s sister] in person would probably be difficult.” Iron’s sister writes back that she “completely understands how [she] feels,” but also shares that Iron’s lawyer fees would cost 10 million won (approximately $8,700) and that their mother is currently very sick. “So I wanted to meet in person and plead with you,” she wrote. “I hope you give Heon Chul (Iron’s real name) the opportunity to apologize to both you and your parents. If you don’t want to meet, I would like to meet with your parents. I’m really sorry.”

I found these comments online, and I 100% agree with them, so I’m just going to post them here:

– “the whole use of the sick mother bit pisses me off so much. that is not the victim’s fault and should not affect what she does. of course it’s unfortunate, but in the end, by saying that, you’re just trying to make the VICTIM feel bad for you. this woman has been abused and it’s 100% your shithead brother’s fault. if he doesn’t want to pay legal fees, then he should just go to jail. or NOT ABUSE PEOPLE” ©

– “So Iron called her (at that point) ex-bf basically to bond over their “awful” shared ex, make her the crazy one and take the guy on his side? And the one who was trying to take responsibility and to patch things up later was not even he, but his older sis? I can’t with this fboy, I can’t.” ©

– “I can’t imagine having a family member who assaulted someone and then go to the victim to beg them not to press charges. Is Iron the breadwinner for bjs family? I feel like male entitlement is the culprit here. He feels like he can do what he wants and then when consequences come - send his sister to clean them up. Like Nicki Minaj and her brother. These women need to wash their hands of their brothers and realize that they are not the good people they thought they were. It may be hard, but there are real victims here.” ©

– “Maybe your brother (Iron) should’ve thought about your mother’s medical expenses before he went out committing crimes that would require the hiring of a lawyer. It’s awful that their mother’s sick but the victim in this situation is (now) ex-gf, and it’s not her responsibility to hold back on seeking justice because of their personal struggle.” ©

#anonymous #ask #news #iron #jung hunchul

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thereishopeforlgbtqpeople-blog · 8 years ago

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Open Letter to Every Person with Homophobic Attitudes and Beliefs

Dear Everyone.

I consider myself a citizen of the world, and just like everybody else, I too have a story of my own. Today, at 21 years of age, I decided I was going to share mine with you, in order to illustrate one possible way of perceiving homophobic bullying as a victim and in hope of making at least one person realize how wrong it is to discriminate against someone solely based on their sexual orientation.

I would like to start off by highlighting a couple of important facts regarding sexual orientation and homophobic bullying in general. Usually, we discuss three categories of sexual orientation: heterosexual, bisexual and homosexual. An individual is born the way they are, sexual orientation is a stable pattern, and it is in no way acquired from the (social) environment. It is a really important part of every person’s life because it defines the group of people within which they are most likely to find a fulfilling and satisfying romantic relationship, which is a crucial component of personal identity for a large number of people. Homophobic bullying is based on an individual’s actual or perceived sexual orientation.

For as long as I can remember, I have thought about the word gay (in my mother tongue) as something wrong, shameful, humiliating, prohibited and unworthy of existence, so naturally, when I started to realize that at some point I was probably going to identify myself with it (because boys got my head spinning, and not girls), I entered a period of my life marked with self-disgust, self-loathing, horror and panic. Now, I am going to describe it in detail from beginning to end, but before that, I would like to point out one thing. I am not one of those miraculous, truly inspiring people that made the best out of their hardships by learning and growing strong out of them - I am one of those people whose stories remain buried and not attended to forever, because they are too depressing and crazy for the average person to care about.

It all started as my childhood was drawing to an end. More and more individuals, mainly males, started to call me names, laughing at me, humiliating me and making insulting rhymes about me, mostly. The verbal abuse was constant throughout the years. I don’t exactly remember when was the first time I got physically assaulted, too, but I think I was 10 or 11 - two classmates body-slammed me to the ground and hit me with their belts.Then, at 16, a group of older guys started chasing me in order to beat me, but luckily for me, I was fast enough to escape their rage over my perceived sexual orientation (I’m still “in the closet”, so no one really knows I am gay). At 17, someone threw stones at me. These are just some of the happenings I went through while growing up. Eventually, I stopped going out of my room unless necessary. I was terrified to even go to school, because every day, there were a lot of people on the train or in the hallways and I wasn’t ready for another round of abuse. I rarely, if ever, went to any party. I had no hobbies because I was afraid of meeting new (more) people that might label and bully me.

I never dared to tell my teachers, parents, grandparents or siblings, because I was too afraid they might blame what was happening on me and my way of living which was apparently disclosing my true, negative sexual orientation. That is what I did as well - at first, I tried really hard to become the average male teenager, and when that didn’t help, I started blaming myself for being a “freak”. Every night I cried myself to sleep, praying and wishing from the bottom of my heart the next day I would wake up straight, because that way, all of my problems would go away. I was really disappointed with, if not angry at, God and fate and whatever I thought was what made me the way I was. In the end, it took me a really long time to accept myself and the fact that I was just never going to change. But before I did that, I used to think about the craziest things and ask myself the craziest questions. I used to, for example, look at random people I saw on the street, at school, on social media and think to myself how perfect their lives were and of how lucky they were to be “normal”. Oh, how I wished to be them. Then, I used to have lunch with my relatives and try to asses how many of them would stop talking to me, stop loving me or even hurt me if they found out the truth. The hardest part was being afraid of losing my parents. If someone asked me whether I was gay, I got really offended and asked them how could they think "so little” of me. At some point, I just started to wish something would happen to me so the suffering would finally be over.

Somehow, with the help of a couple of amazing friends, I managed to accept myself. However, things haven’t got much easier for me. I am still terrified of losing most of my friends and family. I am stressed when I have to walk the streets in my town. I am sad beyond compare when I watch the news and I hear about torture camps for gay people, police officers encouraging families to kill suspected LGB people in their circle for honour, public lynchings of LGBT+ individuals, death sentences and what not. It’s all a bit irrational to me - why would anyone do these horrible things to someone just because of their sexual orientation? And how can they manage to do it? Do they have no conscience or sense of morality?

I beg of you - if you know of someone that is being harassed because of their sexual orientation, help them. Let them know they are not alone. And that there are others with similar stories out there. THEY MATTER, too. Their mental health is priceless, too, just like yours. Act, before it might be too late.

If you are a homophobic bully, then I ask you to consider what I wrote. Please try hard to change your beliefs and attitudes, meet some LGBT+ people or do whatever will make you realize everyone deserves respect and to live freely and peacefully (as long as they’re not hurting others). I implore you. You’re hurting them for nothing. Like me and you, they neither chose to be born nor to be born (and perceived as) gay (or any other sexual orientation). Both things happened naturally and they had no influence over them whatsoever.

#homophobia #stopbullying #stop homophobia #everyone matters #mental health #bullying at school #innocent people #saddness #nohate #just love

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achingchest · 8 years ago

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it was july. he was my first love. he was all sunshine. he could do no wrong. i idolized him as if he were a god. i would have brought down every star in the sky for him and none of them would have compared to his shine. i wrote his name in hearts on my journal pages. i thought i got it right on the first try. i thought i was going to spend the rest of my life with this guy. i was 16 and i didn’t know what rejection felt like. the only thing i could feel was love. but 6 months later, in january, we broke up. we broke up and i know i shouldn’t have cared, but everybody was whispering about it in the school hallways: he got a blowjob from the girl in his math class and maybe she wasn’t any prettier than me but she wasn’t any uglier. it was 3 weeks after we ended. it wasn’t fucking right. he was the worst person alive. so i went up to him. i screamed and cried and blew up his text messages; i spent whole days in bed and cursed his name to my ceiling tiles. one night, when things hurt really bad, i told tumblr he was worthless and he read it. i said i was always going to deserve somebody better because i was going to college and he wasn’t. i didn’t believe it; i just wanted to hurt him. i think i broke something in him. he blocked me on everything - text, facebook - i was gone. gone from his life because my pain was too much to bear and i took it out on him. his mom and sister terrorized me on social media about it, made facebook statuses about me being ugly and having my nose in the air. i guess i deserved it but it still hurt. and it only got worse from there. i was so mad at him for blocking me. i was so angry, i swear i felt my bones break every day. how dare he leave me and not be there to pick up the pieces. so i hacked into his facebook (okay, he gave me the password when we were still together) and changed his “interested in” to men. i thought i was really funny. i remember it so clearly: i couldn’t stop laughing. and laughing. and laughing. this was before i knew i had borderline personality disorder, characterized by switching between idealization and disgust for a person. extreme fear of abandonment. super strong emotions you can’t control. unsure of who you are. lashing out, lashing out, lashing out. feelings of worthlessness. severe depression you feel will never get better. antisocial behavior. then mania. mania. mania.days went on. his girlfriend and him broke up and he found his way back into my life. i’m not sure how it even happened. it was the summer before senior year. we’d hook up in the back of his car - it still wasn’t sex but i gave him my first blowjob. i was 17 and prude and that meant something to me. he’d take me home in his car after. i thought he was so cool. i thought i was so cool. we were doing this behind everyone’s back; nobody knew. i felt so much love in my heart for him. i started idolizing him again, thinking about how great he was as a friend. he used to shove himself so far down my throat, one day i threw up. come to think of it, that might have been the last time that summer we hooked up. one day he stopped answering me and i didn’t know why until we both ended up at some high school party. there was this girl who kept coming up to me - she must’ve not known we had dated - kept saying, “this guy keeps trying with me.” she was talking about my ex, i mean. i asked her if she liked him and she said, “i have a boyfriend.” a couple weeks later, i found out they did hook up. what kind of people fuck girls with boyfriends? scumbags, that’s what i thought. i had no respect for him. none. he started flying through girls like he was a car and they were highways. but he wasn’t hooking up with me. i was judging him so harshly. i hated him. i hated them. i hated that he chose so many people over me. i hated that it was all about sex. i hated that i was 17 and not ready to give it up. i hated that i had nobody. i hated it so much. he started trying to hook up with my friends. i couldn’t fucking breathe. how could he fucking do this to me? why did he have to go out of his way to try to hurt me? in january, i found somebody new. i hated my ex’s guts. i hated him so fucking much. i lost my virginity to someone who wasn’t him. i felt powerful without him. i fell in love again. or i thought it was love - looking back on it, i’m not so sure. it was over by august. it was over and i cried a lot and stalked his facebook page and found him with another girl and my ex texted me. i remember i was driving in my car on the way to the beach and i got that text. i was heartbroken. i brushed it off. a few months later, i ended up at my second ex’s birthday party. i was hanging out with his friends and started drinking. they were going to this party. i couldn’t drive home so i had to come. my ex flipped out. i remember hiding myself in the back room and bawling so much, i couldn’t see straight. i had to get out of there. my first ex drove some people there and saw me. he texted me, “didn’t expect to see you at that party.” i told him how miserable it was. he came and picked me up. how totally nice of him, i thought. on the way home, we stopped in his friend’s driveway. i had tears all over my face and alcohol in my stomach but he still tried to kiss me. i pulled away. i said no. clear as day. n-o. the words left my lips, i swear of it. i laid on top of him. i thought we were cuddling. but he tried to kiss me again. i remember i didn’t shave and i was so fucking embarrassed when he pulled my pants down and started touching me. but i didn’t stop him. i sucked it up and kissed him back. somebody wanted me. somebody wanted me. this was october. we kept talking. we even started having sex. on the second to last day of december, i asked him what we were. “are we dating?” i asked. “do you want to?” he asked me back. i remember wishing this went some different way. i wish he asked me. i wish he wanted me so bad, he couldn’t live without dating me. i think he just dated me because i wanted it. suddenly it was next september and i was starting my first semester at college. i broke up with him because i developed a crush on some guy in my dorm and he held my hand. i didn’t even want to be with him anymore, but the next day, we were back together. this is about the time i realized how completely addicted i was to him. that this wasn’t love anymore. this was complete, utter addiction. it became december. our one year anniversary. i mentioned his mistakes to him all of the time. i didn’t realize i was being abusive and manipulative; all i knew was that i still thought about all of the girls he chose over me. i couldn’t control my emotions. i still thought about how he was only dating me because i asked him what we were. i used to ask him such personal questions, made him give me the names of everybody he’s ever slept with and then bitched at him for every one of them. we weren’t even dating. how could i have judged him? all i knew was that it hurt. it hurt so bad, my chest felt like it was on fire some days. i fell asleep crying a lot. but i loved him. i did. i loved him more than anything. i just wanted him to feel as badly as i did. so every day, i tried to bring him down with me. misery sure does love fucking company. he cried in my arms a lot of days. he must’ve apologized a thousand times. the minute the tears hit his cheeks, i pretended nothing happened. “it’s okay,” i’d coo. “i love you i love you i love you.” days went by and i finally started forgetting. i stopped crying all of the time. i thought things were going good for us. that summer, we’d hang out at his best friend’s house all of the time. i lost all of my friends. i spent all of my time with him. every moment i could. my parents got so mad at me for it. they hated me sleeping over his house in general, said that’s not something people our age should be doing, shamed his parents for letting me do it. i got in screaming matches with them all of the time. almost every time i talked to them. they kept asking me what he was doing about college. he had a good job for years but left because of anxiety. he was going from job to job at that point and not making any money. that was around the time his brother started stealing money out of my purse when we were sleeping or in the shower. he started going in and out of jail. my ex thought his family was falling apart. when he was at his lowest, he started living with his best friend. and he cheated on me. three times. with his best friend’s sister. the one i spent all of my time with. but i didn’t know that then. she and him got in a stupid argument one day when she was drinking and i stepped in. she screamed at me, told me to get out of her house, said, “well, i fucked him. three times!” i shoved her, spilled tequila all over the floor. my ex couldn’t stop crying. he told me she was crazy. he told me to stop fighting with her. the next day, i bought his friend carpet cleaner. he kept talking about how ridiculous we were being. i didn’t know it then but it was because he knew. he even texted my ex once and told him to stop fucking his sister. my ex, even to him, said, “what are you talking about?” his sister moved away and i forgot that night ever happened. february came. my birthday month. i was turning 21. but two weeks before it, we broke up. my ex told me the stress was strangling him. he couldn’t give me what i deserved. i begged him to keep the label on our relationship. i was afraid of what he’d do. i was afraid of what i’d do when i was lonely. he told me i never fucking trust him. a few days later, i saw him kissing another girl’s cheek on instagram. i didn’t understand. how could someone just blatantly lie to you like that? what did she have that i didn’t? he started seeing her weeks before we broke up. she didn’t know. i told her everything and she told me it made her cry. she told me she liked him so goddamn much. meanwhile, he was my entire life. i asked his best friend’s sister more about him cheating on me with her. she told me everything. i found out the first time he cheated on me was when i was having a mental breakdown and he wouldn’t answer me. i found out he tried to sleep with her months before it happened but she wouldn’t because she was in a relationship. i called him immediately. told him he was the scum of the earth. he blocked me on everything. i was so fucking heartbroken, i didn’t sleep or eat for weeks. i wanted to kill myself every single day. i was getting high before class. i was getting high after class. i was getting high all of the time. a couple weeks later, i got my first pap smear. the nurse told me to come in for my results; she wouldn’t tell me over the phone. to say i was freaked out was an understatement. i had an abnormal pap, she said. hpv. my ex and i never used condoms. i trusted him, you know? i never thought he’d cheat on me. hands shaking of anger and sadness, i texted my ex’s girlfriend to warn her. i couldn’t even tell my ex because he still had me blocked. the only way you know you have hpv is through a pap and she wasn’t 21 yet (the age they make you get them), she was 18. so she wouldn’t know for another 3 years if she had it. there’s no test for guys at all. she thanked me. she was so, so pretty. so pretty and NICE. i tried not to break something. the sadness lasted months, but by may, i learned how to get by without him. i was seeing a therapist. i stopped looking at his social media accounts. i was so proud of myself. in the summer, i started hooking up with another guy. i didn’t like him, but he later admitted that he liked me. when i said i wasn’t into him like that and i didn’t want to hook up with him anymore and asked if we could be friends, he said no. he said he had enough friends. basically told me i was no good unless i was hooking up with him. i relapsed of sorts and checked up on my ex. he was posting all kinds of sad stuff. him and his girlfriend broke up. she cheated on him. i found out i wasn’t blocked on facebook anymore and made the biggest mistake of my life and reached out to him. i still loved him. i didn’t want to see him so upset. i wanted to help him. my mental state was stable for once. i thought i was in the place in my life where we could be friends. he thanked me for reaching out, posted “now i don’t want to stop talking” on his tumblr account. days went by. i got drunk at a bar with my coworkers and started asking my boss about his divorce. my other coworker told me before his wife was his wife, she cheated on him. so he cheated on her back. and now they’re married and that’s that. i went home and messaged my ex, asking him for an explanation for why he did everything he did to me. he blocked me again. i was fucking livid. i reached out to him! i cared and he didn’t. i was drunk and crying, having a mental breakdown on my bedroom floor, tweeting from his account (this time i really hacked into it, i figured out his password months ago) about how he doesn’t know one fucking thing about mental health. how you can’t just shut people out. how i want to kill myself. he unblocked me to yell at me for tweeting on his account. we talked about it and forgave each other. he never told me why he cheated on me. he never wanted to talk about it. it hurt him too much, he said. he felt so guilty. one night, i got drunk and asked him if he wanted to hook up. the next day we were having sex on my parents’ bed when they weren’t home. by october, we were seeing each other again. he was coming over to my dorm when my roommates weren’t around. they found out. i told them it’s okay, he’s better now. we’ll be better this time. i love him. it’s worth it. i told myself everything he did to me was my fault because i couldn’t stop bringing up his past mistakes. he said he liked the girl he chose over me because she was more forgiving. i stopped bringing up his mistakes and let it eat at me instead. but everything was perfect. i thought we were getting back together again. but then reality set in and i realized my friends would never allow that. my parents would never allow it. i would lose everyone. so i hooked up with him one last time and said goodbye to him. we were still friends. new years came. he was out drinking in the same side of town as me. he didn’t tell me. i was drunk and mad he didn’t even care enough to say hi. how dare he. right? (okay, as usual, i exaggerated.) he wasn’t answering my texts so i called him. he was drunk off his ass, said all his friends left him. so i went to find him. his friends didn’t know we had been seeing each other. they tried to keep me away from him. i wasn’t going to do anything but check on him. i was so mad because i was being a good friend and they weren’t and they wouldn’t let me see him. i screamed at them so loud, i got stopped by a police officer who made me go the opposite way as them. my ex ran. i called him four times. he finally answered, said he was with a cop getting arrested for public drunkenness. i asked him why the hell he answered the phone. i texted his ex and asked her if she’s seen him lately. i have no idea why. i have no idea what came over me, what i was thinking. she said she saw him last month. said she gave him a haircut, but he would’ve hooked up with her if she said yes. he came over to my dorm the day after that. he told me he didn’t talk to her anymore. i was so mad. i was so fucking mad, i got my parents to pick me up from the bar and screamed the whole ride home. “i knew you were still talking to him,” my dad seethed. i said it didn’t fucking matter, i just needed to see him. i told my parents i was going to drive my car drunk. they locked it in the garage. i begged them to take me to his house. they wouldn’t so i started walking. i got someone to take me. it was 4:30 a.m. by now. i called him, said i was outside. he let me in, took me up to his room. i told him to take his glasses off and i punched him in the face. i said, “fuck you. i’m blocking you on everything.“ then i walked away for what felt like the last time. his brother messaged me on facebook and told me to stay the fuck away from his house. i didn’t block him on everything. i texted him the next day and apologized. i was still talking to his ex; she was telling me not to talk to him anymore. at one point, she told me to stop texting her because he was with her. i was heartbroken. i thought she was on my side. she was yelling about him with me last night. but i lost him and she didn’t. she said she could be friends with both of us. i said that’s not how this works. that was the first day i cut myself. i carved out a razor and cut all over my lower legs so nobody could see. (thankfully it wasn’t short season.) i told everyone i was happy. i was finally free of him. but i just felt so fucking guilty. so fucking sad. so hopeless and shitty and mad. i cut myself a few more times after that, but stopped when i found someone new in march. i slept with him on our first date. he never noticed the scars. my ex tried to talk to me a few times but i ignored all of his texts, laughed with my new guy about him, said he was still obsessed with me even though i punched him, said didn’t he see? i wanted nothing to do with him. that guy and i never dated seriously. i had a bpd freak-out at school and had to leave class because of a small fight we had. he called me a psycho. told me he was blocking me on everything and he did. i asked my ex if we could meet up. i was fucking up in school again, crying in the middle of class. i was cutting again, my hips this time because summer was coming. i couldn’t stand being alone. this is when i finally went to my physiatrist and asked him about bpd. he gave me an anti-psychotic. a few weeks later, i started hooking up with my ex again. without words, we decided that this time, we weren’t getting back together. this was just sex. for months, we hooked up. may. june. july. august. september. october. november. on and off. skipping months but always coming back. nobody knew. i didn’t even tell my closest friends. i didn’t think i would get attached again, but i was on this anti-psychotic and didn’t really have emotions. when i went off of it, they came back full force. i realized this wasn’t healthy. i realized i was thinking about the past every day. i realized this has always been the most toxic fucking relationship and i couldn’t leave. i started making excuses for why i couldn’t hook up. he kept texting me and texting me and texting me. i couldn’t breathe. i will be 23 in february. in january, i said goodbye. i said we can’t be friends. never again. never again.

THIS IS THE LAST THING I WILL WRITE ABOUT YOU

#who the fuck lets me have a blog this is way too personal #trigger warning #personal #poetry #prose #spilled ink #this def isn't the last thing i'll write about him lmao #someone tell me this is toxic #because i just think i'm overreacting as usual #and i already regret cutting him off

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