#my dad was a coward to never stand up to her and incredibly selfish

[im2tired4usernames]

God I never get a fuckin break from being a housewife to a house that's not mine or a parent to children that are not mine

[thatfanficstuff]

The Light in my Darkness - 10

Pairing: Sugar Daddy Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: the usual plus people being handsy that shouldn’t and Rumlow being an ass.

A/N: Everyone ever is in this chapter. Okay not really, but almost. Also...I do what I want including bringing dead scientists back from the grave.

***

It didn’t take you long to realize that Clint wasn’t on his game. Besides the fact that he just appeared tired, he was having trouble remembering names of the people the two of you were talking to. Either that or he was mixing them up in his head. It only took a couple of instances for you to take over. You hoped he didn’t mind, but if he did, you guessed you’d hear about it later.

The two of you had just been approached by two couples. You were familiar with them do to your father’s business. In fact, one of them had given you the car you’d just gotten rid of. You plastered on that fake smile that was so practiced by this point in your life. “Mr. Pierce, Mr. Zola. Lovely to see the both of you. It’s been awhile.”

Alexander Pierce smiled at you. He placed his hands on your upper arms and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. He’d always been a little touchy feely for your liking. Him giving you the car when you graduated hadn’t made you any more comfortable with him. “You look incredible,” he said near your ear. You merely maintained your smile as you stepped back.

Clint placed his arm around your waist and tugged you against his side. Pierce’s eyes followed the movement and his smile tightened. “Barton, how the hell are you?” he extended a hand.

Clint’s eyes flashed and he lifted his drink to show his hand was occupied. He didn’t even begin to move the one from her waist. “Pierce.”

The men glowered at one another for a moment until you cleared your throat. You placed a hand on Pierce’s arm to draw his attention. “I’m sorry, but I have completely forgotten the name of your lovely wife.” You hadn’t actually, but the woman looked so damned uncomfortable.

Pierce tried to make his smile look more natural and placed a hand on his wife’s back. “Helen, you remember Y/N. She’s Brock’s daughter.”

You shook her hand though the woman did little but nod. Moving from her, you offered Zola your hand. He shook it as he looked you over with a sneer. He was a slimy little man and you never had liked him.

“This is Gerta,” he said gesturing to the woman with him.

You offered her your hand as well and she frowned at it. Okay, then. Her and Zola were well paired.

“I was surprised to see that you weren’t accompanying your father this evening,” Pierce said, calling your attention back to him.

You frowned as you leaned against Clint’s side. “I don’t see why that would be. He rarely brought me to functions with him.” You hadn’t even known he was attending to be honest. You certainly hadn’t ran into him.

Pierce nodded and pursed his lips. “That’s true, but I was led to believe that would be changing when you moved back home.”

You tilted your head and your lips twitched. “Well, that must explain it because I have no intention of moving back home. If you’ll excuse us, I told Nick I would be sure to bring Clint by to say hi.”

There was a pause before he said, “Of course,” but you were already making your way across the floor.

“You okay?” Clint asked once you were out of earshot.

“If I let Pierce get to me, I would have been in trouble a long time ago.”

He huffed a laugh. “Did you really tell Fury you’d bring me by?” he asked as the two of you approached the rather brusque man.

“Nope, but I want to see him. And you should at least say hi.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint muttered. Clint liked Fury well enough but the two seemed to be at odds every time they were in a room together. At least it was better than Fury’s relationship with your father.

You elbowed him lightly and gave him a small smile. “Besides Maria is here. They just got married in April, remember?”

“How could I forget?” His hand squeezed your waist as he spoke. The two of you had danced at the wedding after he begged you saying you were one of the only people there he could stand.

You tilted your head to glance up at him and he merely smirked in return. Sneaky bastard.

Maria noticed you approaching and you smiled widely. She said something to her husband and gestured in your direction. Nick Fury turned, grinning at the sight of you. For some reason yet to be explained by science or magic, Nick Fury loved you and had from the first time he saw you. In fact, as a child it wasn’t unusual for you to call him Uncle Nick.

You greeted him with a hug and as usual, he squeezed harder than necessary. When you grunted, Maria rolled her eyes and shoved him. “It’s my turn.”

He grumbled but dutifully turned you over the woman. She hugged you as well. “We haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?”

“Good,” you answered with no hesitation. When you moved back, she looked to Clint. “Clint. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Maria.” He smiled and shook her hand before offering it to Nick. “Fury. How’s newlywed life?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic, Barton.” His gaze moved between the two of you before settling solely on you. “Your dad said you’re moving home.”

You scowled. “What did he do, make some sort of announcement before I got here?”

Nick laughed. “Just about. He seemed pretty damned proud of himself. Going on about how he let you fail at the art thing so you’d do the smart thing and go to business school.”

“God, he’s such a dick sometimes.” Your hand immediately covered your mouth. “Sorry.” As foul as Nick’s mouth could be, you never got used to speaking that way in front of him.

His expression grew very serious. “Yes, he is.” Then he broke and started laughing again.

“Well, I’m starting art school on Monday. And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be moving home. It’s not failing if he manipulates everything to make it impossible. He’s always used money to try to control me, he should know better.”

Clint laced his fingers with yours and ran his thumb over the back of your hand. You gave a tight smile. “Sorry. I’m still a bit bitter.”

“I can see that,” Nick said before locking eyes on your hands. He looked up to meet Clint’s gaze. “You have anything to do with her going to art school and not having to move home?”  

“I’d like to think so.” Clint licked his lips.

“He has everything to do with it,” you corrected. The circumstances may not be normal and Nick would probably kill Clint if he knew the truth of your relationship, but you believed in giving credit where it was due.

“And everything else?” Nick asked.

“Don’t interrogate the girl,” Maria told him, shooting you an apologetic grin.

“It’s fine, Maria. It’s all him,” you said answering his question. Clint looked confused as hell, but you knew exactly what he was referring to. You didn’t go to events like this. You stayed home and avoided people because your father always either treated you like a prize or burden and you could never be sure which it would be.

On the few occasions you had attended, usually at Nick’s insistence, you stayed to yourself. You certainly didn’t dress like this and you didn’t seek people out to talk with. With Clint you could be the you that you wanted to be.

The corner of Nick’s mouth kicked up in a grin. “I got your proposal last month, Barton. Let’s talk about it.”

Clint’s eyes went wide. “I’d love to.”

Nick motioned to a nearby table.

“Now?” Clint glanced to you for some guidance.

“Business doesn’t wait,” you said in unison with Nick, earning a laugh from him and his wife.

“Come on, Y/N.” Maria linked her arm with yours. “Let’s go get a drink.”

Maria and you sat at one of the tables and chatted. Neither of the men was likely to let the discussion go on too long, but they’d at least get a few points hammered out. Now that you were aware of his presence, you’d seen your father more than once. Every time you met his gaze, he’d turn away. Coward. He could tell everyone else he had control of you, but couldn’t face you when he knew you’d heard what he’d said.

“You still with me, Y/N?” Concern tinged Maria’s voice.

You laid a hand on hers. “I’m fine. I just need some air. Tell Clint I’ll be right back if they finish before I return, would you?”

“Of course.” Worry was still evident in her gaze but she knew you well enough to not try to stop you.

You’d expected to drown in humidity when you walked outside, but surprisingly the breeze had picked up and it felt quite nice. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. This was just what you needed.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?”

The voice instantly brought back all the tension you’d just gotten rid of. You turned and gave your father a tight smile. “Hello.”

His hand flexed around the glass he held. “You get Barton to bring you here so you could beg for money again? Should have known you’d be staying with that brat of his.” He licked his lips before taking a long swallow of the liquor in his glass.

You clenched your teeth together to keep from going off on a tirade. If it was only your reputation at stake, you might have done it anyway, but Clint didn’t deserve it. “First off, I have never and will never beg for anything. I asked you for a loan. And because you are a selfish bastard, you turned me down.”

He scoffed. “Selfish? After everything I’ve done for you?”

You ignored him. “And Wanda is not a brat.” You didn’t bother to tell him you had your own apartment. If he knew, he’d try to find you. You were happier with him not knowing where you lived. “I suggest next time you want to tell your friends that I’m running home with my tail between my legs, don’t. It’ll be much less embarrassing for you.”

At this point, you just wanted to get back inside to Clint. Brock grabbed your arm as you tried to pass by him to the door. “Let go of me,” you ordered.

“We’re going to have a conversation, you and I.”

He twisted his grip on your arm startling a yelp out of you. Damn it, that hurt. He pushed you back before he released your arm. He shifted a bit so he now stood between you and the door. “Why are you here with Clint Barton?”

“Guess.” You rubbed your sore arm.

“You’re fucking him? Are you serious?” His lip curled in disgust. “No wonder you don’t need dear old dad anymore. You’ve got another bank account to dip into.”

“Oh, fuck you and your money. You’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Y/N. If I want to talk to you about Barton, that’s my right. I’m your father.” He slammed his glass down on a nearby table and you winced. You had thought it was going to break.

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm the nerves that fluttered in your belly. “Whatever my relationship with Clint Barton might be, it is none of your fucking business.”

He stepped forward and grabbed your face in his hand. He squeezed, making your lips puff out. “Watch your mouth.”

You jerked your head to the side and away from his grip. “You should discuss it with Nick. I’m sure he’d love to hear your opinion on the subject.”

“Fuck Nick.”

“I don’t think you’re his type.”

Brock stepped toward you again making you flinch away. He pointed at you, his fingers less than inch from your face. “You listen to me, little girl. You end whatever this is with Barton and maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you come back home.”

“As tempting as that offer is, I’m afraid she’s going to have to pass.” Your gaze shifted from your father to the man that now stood behind him. You’d never met him but he was easy enough to recognize. Tony Stark. His wife, Pepper stood beside him with an angry scowl you were pretty certain was directed at your father.

“What the hell are you doing here, Stark? This doesn’t concern you.”

“I’m afraid it does, actually.” He turned his attention to you. “You okay?”

You nodded and swallowed past the lump in your throat as you tried not to cry. Pepper reached out and took your hand before tugging you to her side. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into the embrace.

Brock looked at the three of you then shook his head. “We’re not done with this discussion, Y/N.” He walked away without a single glance back.

You cleared your throat as he left. “Thank you,” you told your rescuers.

Tony smiled at you. “Any friend of Clint’s and all that.” His gaze sharpened. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I just need a minute to get myself back together. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

He glanced from you to Pepper. “Why don’t you stay here with the missus and I’ll go get Clint.”

“Please don’t. I don’t want to ruin his evening.”

Tony laughed. “Honey, if I know Clint, and I do, he was ready to leave about five minutes after he got here.”

***

Clint ran his eyes over the crowd again looking for you. He and Fury had finished talking a while ago and Maria had told him that you would be right back. He had yet to see any sign of you. He hoped to God you didn’t leave him here. A hand on his shoulder startled him and he turned to find Tony standing behind him. His friend didn’t look happy.

Clint frowned. “What’s going on, Tony?”

“Rumlow had your girl cornered outside. I ran him off. I think she’s pretty shook up though she won’t admit it.”

“Damn it. That son of a bitch.” Clint sighed in annoyance. “Where is she?”

“I left her in the hall with Pepper.”

“Thanks.” Clint hurried in the direction Tony indicated. Only when his eyes landed on you did he feel any sense of calm. He placed his hands on your upper arms and ran his gaze over you looking for any sign of injury. You winced when he gripped you and his gaze narrowed.

“Later,” you told him.

He clenched his teeth and worked a muscle in his jaw. “Are you okay?”

You nodded.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. He kissed the top of your head and pulled out his phone to send Scott a text. When he finished, he glanced at Pepper. “Thank you. And tell Tony, thanks again, would you?”

“Of course.” She laid a hand on Y/N’s arm. “I’m glad I got to meet you regardless of the circumstances.”

“You, too. Thank you for everything.”

With one last smile, Pepper left them and went to find her husband.

“Let’s get you home,” Clint said and kissed your head again.

You pulled away from him. “We don’t have to leave. I’ll be fine. Please don’t end your night on my account.”

Clint chuckled before pulling you back into his chest. You sighed and settled against him, bringing a smile to his face. “Sweetheart, trust me, it’s just fine. Now, let’s get the hell out of here and you can tell me what happened.”  

[nobodyfamousposts]

Duplicity - Bad Ending

Bad end of Duplicity.

Nino was not having a good night. His brother took forever to go to bed. Several of his CDs were missing. The living room was a mess. His parents expected him to have everything cleaned and done by the time they got back from their date. And he still had homework to do.

It just turned out that Chat Noir was having a worse one.

“Chat Noir?” He asked, bewildered at the sight of the hero slumped against his bed in his room.

“Plagg, claws in.”

And in a wave of green light, it was a pale and shaken Adrien in the other’s place.

“Chat—Adrien—you’re Chat—the fuck?!”

“That’s what I’d like to ask.” Hissed out the floating black cat kwami as it rounded on Adrien the instant it formed. “What were you thinking?”

“Please, not now, Plagg.” Came the bone weary reply.

“Of all the stupid, selfish—were you even thinking at all?!”

“What’s going on?” Nino demanded. To his credit, he knew when a situation was serious and if Chat Noir sneaking into his room at night in something of a panic and outright revealing himself didn’t scream ‘serious’, nothing would. “What happened?”

“Nino.” Adrien took a breath, looking up at the bespectacled boy in what had to be the most lost expression Nino had ever seen on him. “I messed up.”

He had messed up. More than he thought he could have.

When he discovered his father was Hawk Moth, he knew he had to make the choice between his family and his duty. His selfishness and the one he loved.

And heaven help him, but he fell into the temptation that his father’s honeyed words offered. That he could save his mother. That they could fix things. That in the end, it wouldn’t matter if he sided against his partner. Once they had both Miraculous and made the wish, they could make it so none of this happened.

His mother would be alive and well. Ladybug—whoever Ladybug really was—wouldn’t even remember what he’d done.

And it was just so tempting…

Against his better judgement and his kwami’s own pleas, Adrien turned into Chat Noir and did the one thing he never thought he would do willingly.

He betrayed his Lady.

He attempted to take the thing that she sought so hard to protect.

He attempted to turn his back on everything they had previously fought for together.

But things happened that he hadn’t accounted for, and everything became one huge mess.

He thought he could sneak up to her and grab her earrings before she realized it. She still thought he was on her side. Of course she would trust him and allow him to get close enough to almost—

Before he even realized it, he was on the ground with a very hurt Ladybug glaring at him.

She had known. He realized too late. Somehow she had known what he was planning.

“Why, Chat?! DAMMIT—WHY?!”

He barely rolled out of the way before she could use her yo-yo. His plan had failed, but he wasn’t out yet. He couldn’t risk her tying him up and taking his Miraculous. Not when he still had a chance to end this.

And yet he could do nothing but block every blow she threw at him and accept every angry word she threw at him. He couldn’t say anything in his own defense. How could he? What could he possibly say that could explain his decision? Especially when even he knew he shouldn’t.

But it was his father.

It was his mother.

It was his life.

It’d be worth it…wouldn’t it?

She didn’t agree.

Even as the tears fell, she fought them just as much as she fought him. Both of them just as half-hearted in their attempts as the other.

Chat should have stopped there. He should have…

He had expected her to be upset.

He had even expected her to be hurt and betrayed.

But he hadn’t expected his father to plan for that.

And he hadn’t expected the flutter of wings.

His eyes widened in horror at the sight of the butterfly coming to rest inside her Miraculous.

“LADYBUG!”

No no no! This wasn’t—this wasn’t supposed to—

He had betrayed her. He had hit her in the worst possible way even before their fight started. Her partner—her comrade turned against her to join the enemy. The one person she trusted to stay by her side…to fight alongside her. And he instead turned away. Of course she would be hurt.

Hurt enough to be a target for an akuma.

Before he could do anything, the butterfly had done its work and the tale-tell mark of the akuma appeared over her face. Her yo-yo fell to the ground as she grabbed her head, trying desperately to fight the voice invading her mind.

“No! I won’t!”

She was being attacked. Emotionally and mentally as her will was being torn down.

And curse him, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t form the words. He couldn’t do a damn thing but watch.

“STOP IT!”

Everything within himself was in turmoil—protect her! Take the earrings! Stop him! Say something! DO SOMETHING!

But he was frozen. Unable to even make a coherent thought much less make an actual choice.

She looked up at him—at HIM. Past the butterfly emblem framing her face, she looked him right in the eye and pierced him to his very soul.

“Ch…Cha…”

That was his Lady. His Lady. Begging him for help. Begging like that was something she’d ever had to do. Like this was something she should ever have to ask for.

He wanted nothing more in that moment to reach out to her.

He never got the chance.

Before he could do anything, her eyes fell shut, letting a few last tears escape before blackness engulfed her. It was like some of those old horror movies he’d seen. When the monster ate its victim, absorbing them into itself and becoming stronger. No—worse, when the monster was a person forced to change into something they didn’t want to become.

Only this monster was his Lady.

It was his first experiencing actually seeing the process. And it was horrifying.

She stood before him. Calm now. No longer resisting. Black mask hiding a pale face and dead violet eyes that were nothing like the brilliant blue he’d fallen in love with.

He finally let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“L…Ladybug?”

“Adrien.”

He froze, everything in him wanting to scream because that wasn’t her—that wasn’t his Lady speaking to him now.

It may have been her face and her voice, but the tone, the word, and the sheer command behind it made everything in him stand at attention the way only one person could ever accomplish.

“Good job.” She told him and he knew it was his father talking through her, using her like a mouthpiece and god if that didn’t just make him sick?

She smiled and it wasn’t hers. It wasn’t even his, either, but some twisted facsimile as he spoke through her like a puppet.

“You’ve done well.”

And he wanted to scream because he hadn’t done well, he hadn’t done anything other than mess up and hurt her and let him turn her into this and he hadn’t wanted this—hadn’t wanted any of this—he’d just wanted it all to be over!

“Let’s go home, Adrien.” She said, holding her hand out to him and seeing her do that only made him think of all the ‘good job’ fist bumps between them and how much he had wanted to hold her hand only it wasn’t her, not anymore and it was all his fault.

Flat. Emotionless. Not her. NOT HER.

And he just…couldn’t…take it…

He was a coward. He understood that now. Always too afraid to do anything. Say anything. Try anything. Too much of a coward to stand up to his father then. And too much of a coward to stand with him now.

So he did what a coward would do.

He ran.

“ADRIEN!” His/Her shout echoed after him as he desperately sought to get away from all of it. But no distance could rid him of his Lady’s new form, the blankness in her eyes, or the incredible guilt he felt for being the one to do that to her.

The thing that had been Ladybug simply watched him leave, apathetically.

“Should I go after him?”

A pause. She tilted her head, hearing his orders.

“Yes, Hawk Moth.”

She turned and started down the path towards the Agreste mansion.

Nino gave out a breath, dragging a hand down his own face as he attempted to process what he had just been told. “I have to say, man,” he started with a shaky smile, “when you mess up, you mess up pretty damn big.”

Adrien choked out something that was a sad mix between a humorless laugh and a dry sob.

“Look, it’s not over yet.” The kwami—Plagg stated, bringing both boys’ attention to him. “As long as he doesn’t have both Miraculous, he hasn’t won. That is unless you’re going to hand it to him as well.” He finished, shooting Adrien a glare.

The blond flinched.

Nino frowned at that. “Hey, cut him some slack.”

“Sorry,” Plagg stated sarcastically. “All out of slack to give. Kind of ran out when he decided to start this.”

“I messed up.” Adrien whispered. “I know that. I just…it’s my mom, Plagg.”

“And she was your partner.”

“I never wanted her to get hurt! I just wanted to take the earrings and go!”

“Which would still have hurt her, or did you not think of that?” The cat questioned, eyes flashing furiously. “What your dad told you was a fantasy. Did you really think you could mess with reality, revive the dead, and erase the unpleasant things you don’t want people to know?”

Adrien winced.

Yes. Yes, he had.

“I’m an idiot.”

“At least you realize it.” Plagg said with a huff, still not quite forgiving him.

Nino looked back and forth between the two. “So what now?” He asked, drawing the attention of both to himself.

What now indeed?

Nino was well known to Gabriel, and they realized that his home would no doubt be the first place the man would look for Adrien. In short order, Nino reached out to the other boys in class. He couldn’t explain the entire situation, but fortunately, little was needed to be said for them to get enough of a picture.

Adrien spent the night at Kim’s place. An interesting experience, but a welcome one. And the next day, he tried to hold back the growing feeling of foreboding. There was a sense that something would be waiting for him.

He was hesitant to leave the shelter of Kim’s place at all, but Nino insisted that they needed to talk with Alya and Chloe. See if either of them knew anything about where they had gotten their Miraculous before or where Ladybug took them. Adrien had been confused initially regarding how Alya would know, which led to the additional reveal of Nino and Alya being the other two Miraculous heroes and god, he was overwhelmed enough for one day as it was.

He didn’t know how much more he could take.

School had been an escape before. Going back now was probably a mistake, but he needed to keep up appearances. He wished he knew where Fu’s home was located so he could find him himself, but he couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t be followed or that Fu wouldn’t be compromised.

Find Alya and Chloe. Come up with a plan.

“Don’t worry, man! We’ve got this!” Kim tried to encourage him. He was grateful for the support.

But he knew his father. The man wouldn’t let this go—not when he was this close.

He was half expecting an akuma to already be waiting for him when they arrived at the school. To find everything still standing and everyone still going about their day as normal was both a relief and concerning. He had thought at the very least his father would have the Gorilla there to try to take him back. Or Nathalie—who no doubt would have to have been in on his crazy schemes from the start. Just someone to be there to try to cajole or force him to return.

But nothing.

Just students chatting. Everyone getting ready for classes to start. The normal schoolday routine.

He should have felt at ease. And for a moment, he may very well have been. He even started to smile as he saw Nino with Ivan and Max. Nathaniel was heading over as well. He had allies, he reminded himself, almost feeling warm at the knowledge. And while Plagg was still very unhappy with him, he knew the kwami was still willing to help as well.

He wasn’t alone.

He could get through this.

He had his friends. He had the other members of his class. He had his kwami. And soon, he would have a plan.

Things could work out. There was still a chance to resolve this before anyone else got hurt.

“Wow, Marinette! That’s so amazing!”

“I can’t believe it! An internship with Gabriel Agreste?”

And everything inside him went cold.

Oblivious to his reaction, Marinette continued to chat with her friends. “I know! I was so surprised when I received the offer! He was really impressed with my designs and wanted to offer me an entry position.”

His throat felt dry. His pulse started to race.

No…

He wouldn’t…

Would he?

The boys had clearly heard this as well. They glanced at each other, worried and uncertain.

“Dude, do you think?” Nino whispered to the others.

Adrien couldn’t move. Couldn’t even nod. Because of course—of COURSE he would…

“It sounds like Gabriel may be trying to target your friends to get to you.” Max noted.

“But Marinette? She’s innocent!” Ivan hissed, angrily.

“But she’s his friend.” Nathaniel pointed out. “And she is into fashion. He could best use her as a pawn.”

The other boys continued to argue quietly. Adrien couldn’t even hear them anymore past the pounding of his own heart.

There was something…

Something wasn’t right…

He watched as Marinette smiled at her friends. Outright stared at her back as the other girls continued to gush and congratulate her for her achievement.

And finally, almost as if she sensed his gaze, she slowly turned to look over her shoulder at him.

His eyes met hers.

And in an instant, Adrien felt the ground fall out from under him.

Seeing the way the other boy was paling, Nino clasped a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, I’ll try to get Alya alone and tell her about what’s going on.” Nino tried to reassure him. “If anyone can convince Marinette, she can. And there’s no way Alya would stand by and—”

“Nino.” For all that it was barely whispered, he was cut off by the urgency in the word. That was when he realized just how pale Adrien had gone. His eyes were wide. He was practically shaking.

He blanched. Never had he seen Adrien look like this. “Dude? You okay?”

“Nino.” Adrien murmured, never once looking away from Marinette. “Nino, her eyes.”

He felt a growing sense of dread as he turned to look at the girl in question. He didn’t want to look—didn’t want to see, but couldn’t bring himself not to.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng looked right back at him, violet eyes gleaming.

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Bond Between People & Pokemon The Finale

Upon arriving at the battlefield Ganon had ordered all his forces to attack Kirby at once no matter what the cost.

Ganondorf: You must kill Kirby!

Villains: Alright!

All the villains ran past the heroes, each just standing awaiting the carnage that would soon arrive.

Samus, waving: Good luck, idiots!

Ganondorf: It is he who will need luck for he can’t possibly take on millions of soldiers at on-

Dark Link, flew by through the air. Landing on top of him followed Nightmare.

Dark Link: Ouch! Get off me! (Pushes Nightmare away) Why are we even trying!? (Running away) See ya once this has all cooled down boss!

Ganondorf: What!? Get back here and fight cowards!

Sephiroth: Worry not Ganondorf, you shall be rid of this pest, as I don’t plan on being bested by a marshmallow. Unlike these worthless soldiers.

Chara: Yeah Uncle Sephiroth will show him what’s what.

Bonny, Dedede & Incineroar had just arrived to where the battle was taking place - an injured Incineroar atop Dedede’s back.

Doomguy: Is that? Bonny!? My sweet bonbon has come back and not a scratch on her.

Bonny Janet: But Incineroar…Not so much.

Doomguy: Oh no…Don’t worry good ol’ three fingers (Points at Mewtwo) will take him back to the mansion to Dr. Mario. We’’ll see what he can do. But in the meantime-

King Dedede: Kick their asses Kirby!

Sephiroth: Can it traitor! Your little “hero” dies here! No more shall you pests interfere with our plans!

Bonny Janet: Go ta hell! Yer half pint, wee willy, prissy haired sissy!

Sephiroth self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair, then thrust his sword towards Kirby. Kirby turned and stared Sephiroth dead in his eyes, before grabbing the sword an inch away from his face. He smiled at Sephiroth then threw him through the crowd of villains so fast he set on fire, crashing through a few boulders on the way.

Sephiroth: Argh! *cough cough* How…Is that possible. (Faints)

King Dedede: It’s called being god and tons of friendship b-

Meta Knight: BITCH!

King Dedede: …How dare you steal that from me…

The villains stood in silence for a while.

Random Enemy: … … …RETREAT!

Ganondorf: WHAT!? NO! GET BACK HERE AND FIGHT!

Hades: Sorry bro, but we gotta get outta here. We can save your Ultimate Weapons or whatever for another time.

Ganondorf: You! You’re… … …No. No! NO! YOU’RE WRONG! I CAN BEAT HIM! YOU WORTHLESS PAWNS ARE JUST TOO WEAK! Sometimes you’ve just gotta do things yourself…

Ganondorf now fueled with hatred and malice transformed into his Demon King form, and stared Kirby down with his emerald, green eyes. Kirby in respondents stared back not flinching at all. Commence JoJo music.

Ganondorf: Let’s see you best the hands of a god!

Heroes & Villains: … … …Does he think being a God can save him?

King Dedede: That’s funny Ganon, we’d love to see you deal with Dark Matter every single day!

Ganon began charging towards Kirby with malicous intent.

Kirby, stepping forward: Poyo. (“Aw shit, here we go again”).

Kirby & Ganon collided in the air, sparks literally flying. Kirby then moved to Ganon’s stomach and started pelting a load of punches at him, pushing him back a little.

Ganondorf: COME ON! I KNOW THAT’S NOT ALL YOU HAVE TO OFFER!

Ganondorf then grabbed Kirby and dragged him around violently through the air, before hitting him away with his sword. Kirby recovering quickly then rushed over to Ganon pulled on his tounge and then slammed his own teeth on it cutting it off. Making Ganon completely speechless.

Samus & Link, leaning back: Damn!

Doomguy: Now I’ve done alot of gruesome things in my day…But that!…That was nasty.

A now immobilized Ganon fell to the floor to recollect himself. Kirby, however, had other plans. He made his way to Ganon’s tail. He picked him up by it and then began to swing him round in circles. (Keep in mind he’s 8 inches tall, and Ganon is now 23 inches tall.) He spun so fast it almost seemed like he wasn’t moving. After Kirby eventually released his grip Ganon was sent flying out of sight.

Hades: HOLY ZEUS!

He then came flying back from around the entire world and crashed hard. Pretty much causing a tremor. He then turned back to his original form.

Ridley, watching from afar: Ooh. You hate to see that happen.

Bonny Janet: Tha’s right! None o’ ya got shit, compared ta Kirby!

Chara: Dad!

Hades: Crap, Crap, Crap!

Sephiroth, crawling to Ganon: I’m sorry Ganondorf…For I have failed. I was not strong enough.

Ganondorf: … … …

Sephiroth: We must retreat…For now but we will be back. Once we have replenished ourselves.

Ganondorf: *Nods*

Ridley, flying down with a still unconscious K.Rool: That’s our que to return I guess…God your heavy.

Hades creates a portal to somewhere. And all the villains step through it.

Dark Link: See ya later losers!

Samus: Hmf…Funny…Last I checked we won. But now in related news…WE WON!

Heroes: Heck yeah!

Doomguy: And I bagged us a few goodies to.

Samus: What?

Doomguy: A plant! (Holds up Pirahna Plant)

Link: That’s kinda less bewildering.

Doomguy: Oh and a dinosaur!

Link: A wha-

Riptor, who was held in Doomguy’s shackles, attempted to lunge at Link, causing him to piss his pants scared, Samus came over to comfort him.

Link: Dinosaur’s are just big chickens… …I hate chickens.

Samus: Yeah, it’s alright sweetie, you made it (Kisses him). Alright, listen up heroes. We did well out there today. Thanks to Sakurai & Kirby we were able to rescue Bonny, Incineroar & Dedede. But they always will attempt to fight us again so we must always be aware. DK I’m looking at you. Now come on let’s head back.

After the battle everyone headed back to the mansion Dedede was welcomed back and the second he got there, gave Rosalina & Lucas a hug, but then got to get something to eat he was being starved for days. Joker got to take care of the new obtained Pirahna Plant. He seemed to be doing a pretty good job, the plant didn’t exactly do much harm. Just a lot of smiling. Doomguy began training his new stolen pet Riptor. Though at times it was pretty…Difficult. When Chara found out her pet was stolen she was definitely not very happy. And now to Bonny Janet & Incineroar. He still lay in Dr. Mario’s infirmary recovering from his injuries. At a moment like this her past self would have attempted to catch him. But now she understands that to gain a pokémon as a partner you need to have strong bonds. So now she steps into the infirmary.

Bonny Janet: Hey, Incin. Still in tha’ coma o’ yours. They all know about wha’ yer did ta save me…Even if aye was human. They all understood tha’ yer actions were derived from the selfish desires o’ hatred for the ones tha’, yer know…But yer know wha’? (Puts her hand on his paw) Aye’ve learned something from this experience. No matter pokémon or trainer…Yer should never take one another for granted…All the pain & suffering you went through was to protect me. Even if yer still hated me…Yer still cared….I’m such a coward…I can’t even say this to you properly… … …Well…See ya.

Bonny gets up to leave only to be stopped by something that was pulling her back from her hand. Her eyes lit up, at what she saw. Incineroar was opening his eyes.

Bonny Janet: In…Incineroar?

Incineroar: Huh?…Bonny? What? Did I? I lived!?

Bonny Janet began to cry heavily and ran up to Incineroar and gave him the biggest hug she could offer.

Incineroar: Woah! Umm…

Bonny Janet: I’m sorry…sorry for all the stuff tha’ happened ta yer. It was all because o’ me. If it weren’t for me. Yer wouldn’t ‘ave got hurt.

Incineroar: No. You’re wrong. Kid…If it wasn’t for you, I would still be working for those braindead knuckle draggers. With you by my side. You showed me the true light that resides within, not just humans, but all living things alike. And I thank you for that.

Bonny Janet held Incineroar tighter now knowing the stress of the belief that her actions caused harm could now be lifted off her shoulders.

-One Week Later-

Bonny Janet: A'ight I’m about ta do it but I 'ave ta ask one more tame. Are yer sure?

Incineroar: Yes! How many times kid?

Bonny Janet: Aye just don’t know if aye should.

Incineroar: Kid, you’ve been trying to do this most of your time here. Now you’ve got the chance and your turning down the offer? Make up your mind. Besides I don’t exactly gotta stay in it.

Bonny Janet: (sigh) Ok fine. (Holds up a pokéball) Ready?

Incineroar: As I’ll ever be.

Bonny taps the pokéball against Incineroar’s fist. It wobbled around a few times before clicking in place showing Incineroar had been captured.

Bonny Janet: Yes! I did it!

Everyone who was apparently watching: YAY! After so long she did it!

Incineroar: Hey this place is pretty cosy. There’s a bed, not that I’ll sleep in here. A play area. A wrestling ring!? How are they fittin’ this stuff here!? THEY HAVE A JACUZZI!?

Bonny Janet, sending him out: A'ight that’s enough, Nirvana.

Incineroar: No my Nirvana. Dude that place was incredible I should’ve got caught ages ago.

Bonny Janet: Tha’s not what matters remember Incineroar? Hold up aye’ve gotta give yer a name…How about…Jasper, the rings roaring flame!

Incineroar: Jasper 'ey? That ain’t too shabby. And yeah I know all that mumbo jumbo. It ain’t about profit, power, or Nirvana. It’s about…

The Bond Between People & Pokemon

Incineroar: HEY TITLE! You stole my line!

Bonny Janet: Come on we’ll just boot their arse later.

Incineroar: Yeah, in the mean time let’s kick everyone eles ass!

The End. :3

[yume-x-hanabi]

The Shrade Island Incident

Excerpt from Agria’s side story, as requested by @lydiemalen

Contents warning: somewhat gory violence, mention of rape

This happens to be the end of the short story, so it’s a bit out of context, but what you need to know: Agria’s life is suffering and her family are a bunch of assholes. At the beginning of this chapter she’s working with Presa as a spy (she’s not a member of the Chimeriad yet, just Presa’s accomplice).

Aurignac = Agria’s eldest half-brother, Gravett = second half-brother, Magdalena = half-sister, Celedonio = youngest half-brother (3 years older than her), Roberta = her dad’s wife

The Shrade Island Incident

The good news came from the old hag.

“The Rashugal army has seized control of Shrade Island,” she said.

“Shrade Island!? So they’re attacking Auj Oule, at last.”

That’s right. Shrade Island was a small island that Rashugal was claiming territorial rights over, but most its population was Auj Oulian. The Rashugal government had always been looking for a pretext to put it under its rule.

“They say it might concern the new weapon, but I don’t know the details. Whatever it may be, they are rounding up innocent citizens, so this is urgent matters. His Highness will lead the counterattack himself.” She paused for a second, then added, “The commander of the enemy forces is Aurignac L. Travis. …Are you in?”

Aurignac! My heart was about to burst from joy!

“I can’t believe you’re even asking me. Are you daft, or what? My job is to bring those assholes’ head to His Highness!”

I was allowed to join His Highness’ elite group, so I crossed the sea to Shrade Island. There was no need for strategies. His Highness didn’t even need to draw his sword, as the four of us cut through the enemy’s so-called special forces like we were reaping wheat. Among the corpses whose heads were smashed, I recognized Gravett’s lanky face.

Dear brother Gravett, you prick who always had your nose in a book and dismissed us as less than human. Aa-ah, let me be honest here. If you’d kept getting promotions, you could have become a superb general. Your cold-heartedness and rationalism were much more fit for the military than all those pampered noble token officers. That strict, uncompromising attitude. The way he walked confidently through enemy lines, slicing obstacles without mercy. When I saw His Highness for the first time, I was reminded of your “I don’t rely on anyone” look. Only a little bit.

But there was no time to get sentimental when there was a bigger prey waiting for me. We tore through the enemy forces like a storm, and in no time we cornered my nemesis, the embodiment of House Travis, my eldest brother Aurignac.

My heart beat fast at the thought that revenge was near. But I wouldn’t do something so uncouth as to show him how excited the prospect of a hunt made me. Calmly, to toy with him, I made a light jab. The kind of banter I learned in the back alleys.

“Aurignac. You’ve grown fatter since the last time I saw you. If you don’t start building strength in your gut, your favorite shiny buttons are gonna fly off.”

“…I see. I understand now. So that’s why you came back to us with your tail between your legs.”

“There is no greater pleasure for me than to pay you back for your good care thusly,” I said in an affected tone.

I hunched back a little, drawing my heavy wand. Seeing that, Aurignac turned his body sideways and pointed the tip of his sword towards me.

“A shameless wench who turned her back to our country no longer has the right to bear our noble name. You shall atone for tainting our bloodline with your death.”

“Right, right. Keep barking about your noble name like a fool. Though it seems you won’t even be able to cast the spirit artes our ‘blood’ is so proud of to protect yourself. I’ll write your epitaph for you: ‘Born from a noble line with the strongest spiritual affinity in Rashugal, died as a most mediocre spellcaster. Beloved imbecile.’ How’s that sound?”

“My, my. Like mother, like daughter, I see. You cannot hide your low birth.”

“…Don’t you dare talk about my mom.”

“As Father seemed to be so enamored with her in spite of his age, I wanted to see her skills for myself, but she did nothing but cry and resist; nothing impressive, really.”

“AURIGNAC!!”

I exploded in hatred. My twisted wand clashed with his bejeweled sword, and for a moment, we pushed at each other’s guard. But our power balance only lasted an instant. The desire to kill him in the cruelest way overflowed my mind like the Kijara Seafalls, eclipsing all other emotions. Holding on at point blank range, I summoned a quintuple magic circle. Aurignac’s face changed colors when he realized he was trapped in my arte, but it was too late for him. Just as he flung himself to the side to escape it, black blades surged from the circle like snakes and cut his arms, his shoulders, his throat, his whole body.

The next moment, his body was ripped apart like minced meat and the pieces fell to the ground, looking more like manure than human remains.

 His Highness was extremely satisfied with the results of the Battle of Shrade Island, as we had not only managed to protect the citizens, we had wiped out an entire enemy company with only a few of us. At the mere age of 13, I was granted the greatest privilege to serve directly by his side. I was given the name “Agria,” which represented the “stinger” of the chimera. I didn’t need my old first name anymore, and my surname was even more meaningless.

The Travis were nothing to me anymore. But, y’know, I had a long-standing grudge. I wouldn’t rest well if I didn’t pay them back tenfold for all the torment they put me through as a kid. That’s childish? Well, I was just applying the lessons my dear family had taught me. Wasn’t it a rule of society that you could mercilessly beat up those weaker than you?

I went back to the manor in broad daylight. After Aurignac and Gravett had both died honorably in the line of duty, Roberta and Magdalena seemed to have gone half-mad and were covering their eyes. They didn’t even notice I was there. They should be grateful I gave them an occasion to practice their theatrical wailing.

“Nadia! …You, you traitor!”

Celedonio was standing in my way. He was now the sole male heir, a pitiful, sniveling brat who suddenly had to shoulder the headship of the family.

“The Travis are ruined because of you! We should have never let that whore and her spawn into our house! You’re both witches who brought dirty blood and curses within our gates!”

“Come out on the battlefield, then. You’re a noble, you don’t even have to do anything and they’ll make you an officer in no time. Fight me like your beloved brothers did, and avenge them!”

…If you can.

When I pretended to thrust my wand at him, Celedonio let out a small scream and ran back into the manor. Aa-ah. I was just trying to scare him a little. To say I was relentlessly bullied by such a coward.

I clapped my hands lightly and unleashed a fire spell on the manor. Powered by my arte, the flames engulfed the massive building at incredible speed. Screams could sometimes be heard along with the sound of broken glass, but no one came out. They all perished one after the other, unable to reach the door because of the heat and smoke.

…Dad. My poor old dad, who’d been withering under his tailcoat, lost in thoughts no one could fathom; who’d played a fake life, burdened by a name too big for him. He probably burned to death holding tight to the happiness brought by the memories of his time with Mom. Dad, who had loved Mom and cherished me. But that was just a kind of selfishness that caused us so much trouble. In the end, he didn’t think about anyone but himself. Just like all those nobles, he was just a selfish old man looking for his own escape from reality.

I stopped by the grave I’d secretly built in a corner of the garden for Pupu and the other bird to pay my respects, and patted the headstone once.

All my hopes had been ripped to shreds. From then on, I would stake everything on His Highness. I would build my life on the dead bodies of his enemies.

I turned my back on the smoldering manor, the hems of my red dress flapping in the wind. Red, like the flowers blooming by Mom’s last resting place.

[wilhelmjfink]

“was” pt. 13 (final)

2holy shit we made it! sorry i know i said i’d post this like 2 days ago buttttt i’m a lazy piece of shit what can i say?? here it is hope it’s lived up to it’s hype 

It must’ve been a mistake. He must’ve just misunderstood.

But regardless, he wasn’t able to focus on what was happening around him because his mind was whirling a hundred miles per hour as he tried to convince himself that Y/N wouldn’t have done that to herself. Wouldn’t have done that to him.

Y/N hadn’t found too many things in this new world that bothered her too much: she’d be exposed to a lot of it beforehand, aside from the constant killing of the walkers that tried to eat her flesh. But the violence, the death, it was all just another day for her. And thankfully, too, or she might not have been as cut out for his world as she needed to be to survive. But the corpses that littered the small ranch that they’d taken shelter in told a story of such pain and misery and hopelessness, and it hit home for her — hard.

“My step-dad shot himself in the head with a twenty gauge when I was eighteen,” she told him, standing motionless in the doorway and observing the decaying bodies before her, a child laying face down on the throw rug with what she assumed used to be mom next to him and dear old dad propped up on the recliner, rifle still in between his legs and blood pouring from where his head should’ve been. “I found him.”

“Christ,” Daryl muttered, looking over at Y/N to try and decipher her feelings at that moment. Usually he could read her like a book, but she was different right then, potential scenarios playing out in her head as she stood still and just looked at the bodies. He wondered if it was as obvious to her as it was to him. He was sure it was — she was just as intuitive. 

“I guess he wasn’t my stepdad when I found him -- they’d been fighting for awhile, him and mom. He just moved it. He lived in a small apartment — like, small. So there was just blood fuckin’ everywhere, dude. All over the walls. It made it into the bathroom, into his bedroom...” She meandered toward the dusty oak dresser, rifling through drawers for anything useful. “Pieces of his skull were stuck in the carpet... blew the gold cross he wore on his neck everyday clean off.”

Daryl’s stomach churned — and not at the thought of the scene she was describing to him. He was no stranger to death either, even before the world went to shit. His uneasiness lay within the fact that Y/N had to witness that before when she still withheld some of her innocence. Shit, she was so young right now, he couldn’t imagine how she’d be before it all, far before they’d met. 

“I liked him,” she shrugged. “Even when they were fighting. I felt bad for him, so I would go over and say hi to him because... well, it was sad, I guess. I saw his truck outside, decided to stop and say hi, he didn’t answer the door, I pulled myself up to look in the window, and...” 

She trailed off. 

“Shouldn’a had to see somethin’ like that. Ever.” Daryl said angrily, as if he could get so mad that he would be able to change anything about it. 

“Yeah, well...” again, she shrugging nonchalantly. “That’s life, I guess. Help me move these two.”

Daryl eyed her warily as she walked up to the child’s corpse and grabbed its ankles as if nothing was wrong. Fuck, he knew she was strong, but there was a difference between strength and apathy. She had just shut herself off; a long time ago, too, he was always sure. But for some reason, that time had left him unsettled. She was always telling him to feel, to try and accept his emotions.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak and try and break the silence, she spoke up first: “Promise me you won’t ever do that to us,” she said flatly. As he crouched down to help her move the body, he paused to look up at her. She was avoiding his gaze. “Promise me you won’t ever leave me that way, like a... fucking selfish coward.”

The way her voice cracked at the broke his heart. He stared at her and waited for her eyes to meet his and when they did, they both found neither one of them could turn away. “I promise,” he said, feeling rather silly at the juvenile agreement. But he hadn’t found something yet that she couldn’t make him do with just one bat of her eyelashes. “S’long as ya promise me ya won’t do the same.”

She hesitated and it sparked a little bit of bitterness in him. He did his best to extinguish it right then, trying hard to understand what she’d experienced, where her mind was at that moment.

Finally, she spoke up, the words not what he was hoping to hear but caught him so off guard that he could hardly remember what they’d been talking about before she’d muttered them: “I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

So, there was that, he realized. She’d never promised to begin with. 

Was she really that destroyed without him?

“Alright, listen up you sorry shits!” Negan’s voice tore him from his whirling thoughts and he flinched. Though he was able to tune him out quickly the sight of the door in front of him opening back up, catching his attention instantly. Y/N stepped out onto the porch, squinting at the sunlight. Rick followed behind her.

If he hadn’t believed Negan’s words before, he had believed them then.

She looked frail, even more so than before, and he felt his heart sink with worry. Was she recovering from the injuries okay? Was she even recovering at all? She was pale, paler than usual, and her hair fell loosely down her back, snarled and tangled and free of the pigtail braids she usually had them in. He felt his heart pounding, worried that she might just fucking drop dead at any second.

She hadn’t spotted him yet and he considered slinking backwards into the crowd, hiding from her sight, not wanting to get her hopes up only to hurt her even more when Negan took him away again. It would literally kill her. God, when did their lives become a constant fight to just try and be with one another?

He deserved it — he knew he did. But she didn’t. She didn’t deserve a damn thing that she’d gotten. And he definitely didn’t deserve her. He watched as she stood closely to Rick, shoulder to shoulder, hugging herself tightly for comfort. It should’ve been him hugging her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and shielding her from the cruelness of life now, if even just for a little while. But instead he was held hostage and forced to just watch her from afar, and simply hope that no harm would reach her anymore. She couldn’t take it -- he couldn’t take watching her fall apart right before his eyes. 

Negan’s ramblings meant nothing to either one of them anymore. Daryl could tell by the vacant look in Y/N’s eyes that she was hardly paying attention, backing herself against the door like she could melt into the wall and disappear. Each second he thought his heart truly couldn’t break any further, Negan had found a way to prove him incredibly wrong.

“Y/N!” His voice echoed through the megaphone he was using to talk as if his voice wasn’t loud enough by itself. She flinched at the sound of him calling her name, almost like his words had hit her forcefully right in the chest. He also noticed Rick stiffen at her side, though, which did manage to bring him a feeling of relief, no matter how minuscule it was. It was better than feeling nothing but bleak bitterness for however long it’d been. Rick was there for her -- he had always counted on him for that. 

“There you are. I was worried I was gonna have to come up there and drag you down here myself!”

Daryl inadvertently snarled which earned him a harsh shove in the back by the Savior that had been holding him still where he stood. 

“Come over here, doll. I got some shit I wanna show ya.” 

When she didn’t move, Daryl silently cursed, more concerned about what Negan’s reaction might be to her lack of obedience to him. He vaguely remembered the scene back at Hilltop when they’d brawled and how after Y/N had held onto him and begged him to do whatever Negan asked — it was the only way to assure that he wouldn’t lash out or hurt somebody else, though lately he’d been even more unstable than usual and just seemed to be a bubbling volcano just waiting for a reason to erupt and rain down havoc on everything around him. 

He grew even more apprehensive when Negan’s voice dropped dangerously low, even sending a child down his spine. 

“Y/N, don’t make me ask you again.”

She shuffled meekly to the frontlines toward Negan, eyes cast downward, avoiding the stares of everybody around her. It took absolutely everything in him, every single shred of will power he had left inside of him to not just break in a sprint toward her. All he wanted to do was sweep her up and take her far away from here — far away from all of the bad guys and all the terror and pain they’d brought her.It wasn’t fucking fair. 

She wasn’t herself. Daryl was concerned she might not be healing well; like she was so miserable that it physically inhibited her healing. “There we go,” Negan murmured to her as she made her way to his side, leaving an open distance between them that he closed by throwing his arm around her and yanking her toward him. Daryl was livid. Beyond any measure of the word, any limit of his imagination, he was fucking furious.

His hand balled into tight, shaking fists at his side. 

Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

 Though he could hardly see Y/N, he knew that tears were pouring down her cheeks that she hid, her chin tucked into her chest allowing her tasseled hair locks to fall in front of her face. His blood was boiling, a million degrees coursing through his veins. His teeth were grinding together so hard he was half expecting them to crack under the pressure. 

“Alright, babydoll. I know you’ve been going through some shit, so.... I brought you a gift.” Y/N immediately perked up at his words and Daryl just frowned, his stomach dropping, knowing that she was automatically going to anticipate it being him, regardless of how well she knew Negan’s mind worked. And there were two ways that could end: she would be right and get to see him beaten, bruised, and broken, which would destroy her, and then he’d get torn away from her yet again. And she couldn’t do that. Or, if she was wrong, she would be forlorn at not being able to see him -- regardless of how he looked.

“I know — I know. How can I find it in me to be so fucking nice to you people when all you’ve manage to do is bend me over the table and fuck me in the ass repeatedly? I’m just that kinda guy, I guess.” Negan grasped her hand in his own gloved one and sauntered over to the trailer bed where the coffin they’d brought over was hoisted upright, shifting and bumping slightly. Throwing a slick grin over his shoulder at her, he hoisted himself up onto the platform before reaching down for her. She stated at his outstretched arm warily before hesitantly taking it, allowing him to pull her upward next to him.He laughed to himself before turning toward the casket and rapping on it rhythmically with Lucille. “Hey, Sash — you are not going to believe this shit!”

With the flip of a latch the door swung open and Sasha stumbled out. Her eyes were yellow and cloudy, and her jaw snapped with snarls and growls and she immediately lunged at Negan. The sick fuck had killed her and brought her here to show it off. 

“Holy god damn!” Negan screamed, falling backwards off of the platform with what used to be Sasha crawling on top of him. There was a millisecond of still silence before a single gunshot rung out and then it was followed by more rapid gunfire, screaming and shouting. Y/N stood motionless, hands tightly covering his mouth in shock, frozen in time. Her eyes were trained on her old friend as it tried to take a bite out of Negan while he struggled underneath her, muttering to her as if she could hear him and laugh at his pleads and miserable jokes. 

Daryl was shoved harshly down to the concrete by an unseen stranger and then, nothing. Everyone scurried around him and suddenly, nobody was worried about him escaping. He was left alone to die; but that was fucking fantastic, and as long as Y/N was in his sight, he absolutely refused to let that be it for him. His hands were still tied and his mouth still gagged but it didn’t deter him from pushing back up and breaking into a run toward her, dodging bullets that exploded around him and corpses that already littered his path. And when an unseen force grabbed onto his ankles it sent him flying forward, landing harshly with a grunt as his incapacitated hands just barely managed to catch his fall. Sasha — or what used to be Sasha — had discarded a Savior after she’d torn his flesh from the bone and left him a gruesome mess and she had changed her target from him, directlyt o Daryl. 

He kicked out to shake her off as she snarled at him, her teeth and skin around her lips and mouth stained a deep red. It didn’t even look like her, he thought... but it wasn’t her. No -- he had to remind himself that it really was not her as he dug the heel of his foot into her nose, crunching the cartilage underneath it, and finally prying her backwards and she released the grip she had on his ankles.

Finally he scrambled to his feet, straightened back up just to find that Y/N was no longer in the spot she stood in just a moment prior. 

“Fuck!” He didn’t mean to shout and cursed himself for risking drawing any attention to himself, but luckily the hysteria that completely surrounded him had diverted any of the focus away from him as his friends and enemies fought to the death...

A sudden pang of guilt struck him as he searched wildly for Y/N and was faced with nothing but smoke and fire and carnage and he realized he should be fighting alongside his family, but when he finally spotted her running the opposite way of the action, nothing else mattered as he took off after her. 

She was weaving around Saviors, dodging them as they seemed to blatantly ignore her, her hand clutching her side the whole way. He was tired, weak, malnourished; everything was against him, but he refused to fall back, keeping his eyes trained on her like she was a doe he was tracking in the woods.

She reached the main gate of Alexandria and slid right through it. His heart jumped in his throat and he followed at her heels. 

“Y/N!” He shouted her name and that was all it took to have her slide to a halt, stumbling as she spun around in search of the source of his voice. “Y/N!”

He didn’t stop, however, and kept running to her until she finally spotted him, her eyes widening and jaw dropping open in shock, almost as if she didn’t believe it was really him.

She met him halfway and jumped into his arms, locking them around him like an anchor and subsequently burst into tears. He stumbled slightly at her impact, even more worn out from chasing her, but didn’t let it stop him from indulging himself in her; in her scent, the feeling of being locked in her embrace with her arms wrapped tightly around him, the sound of her whimpers as she wept with joy into his shoulders... it was all exactly what he needed it to be — and he briefly found himself also wondering if it was real or some sort of sick dream. But when she pulled away and grasped he sides of his face, pulling him in for a passionate and needy kiss, he tangled his hands in her hair and knew that it was really fucking her. 

Y/N had separated herself from Daryl, leaving her hands ghosting the skin on his face, the rough stubble and dirt that caked his face and his sunken eyes and the all of the fear had returned in the blink of an eye. “We can’t go back there,” she whispered to him. And he stared back at her, more or less dumbstruck by her beauty as found he was every single time he looked at her, but her words set off his own apprehension. He opened his mouth to speak but wasn’t too sure what to say. Was he really supposed to bring her back there; where so many bad memories haunted her and certain death awaited him? It was that thought that sparked panic inside of him and he grabbed her, dragging her off of the main road and down into the ditches on the side of the road where they crouched down behind some brush to keep out of sight. The gunfire was still close, and it was still loud. And if he didn’t get his head in the game and figure out where to take her, they would get caught by Saviors or a ton of walkers very soon and he wasn’t sure which one was worse. “

We can’t go back, Daryl,” she pleaded again, her clammy hands finding his blindly. “I can’t.... if they see you — “

“You can’t jus’ leave,” he replied, more stern than he had intended. “You can’t jus’ run from yer problems when yer scared, Y/N. You can’t jus’ hide from ‘em till they disappear...” He was rambling and he knew it, trying to find a way to keep her safe and protect her and keep her happy at the same time and he couldn’t formulate a plan. A combination of the adrenaline fading and the last few weeks of torture he’d endured had him feeling completely drained, both physically and mentally. Was he really failing her already?

Right then, having Y/N back, right in front of him, living and breathing could’ve convinced him to walk to the ends of the earth if she’d asked him to.

That might’ve been why it hurt him so much when she narrowed her tired eyes at him: “Why not? Isn’t that what you did?”

If it were anybody else — anybody at all — he would’ve flown off the handle at that comment. Called them out, spit at them, hit them. But he just couldn’t find it in him to argue with her; partially because, as much as he hated to admit it, she was right — that was exactly what he’d done, and fuck, she still had no idea why. 

But he couldn’t think of that right now; he knew that his leaving had hurt her and he hadn’t yet had time to try and explain himself. He would have to eventually, and it was constantly lingering in the back of his mind like a fucking disease.

He averted his eyes, trying to avoid her harsh stare. With a deep sigh he gave in, settled with that as a valid response, and decided that they could find some shelter for the night somewhere else — perhaps in the cabin he’d camped in during the long hunting trips. Negan and his men would be too disheveled, probably too injured to search for him tonight — if any of them were still alive.

 “Fine,” he caved. “Fine. We’ll... we can stay in the huntin’ cabin south ‘a here. We’ll figure out what to do in the mornin’.”

It was against his better judgement — hell, it was against everything that every fiber of his being was warning him not to do, but if it was what she wanted, he would make it work. 

Besides... he would never say no to a night alone with his girl. Especially after the last few weeks.  

The sound of gunfire had died down and they only noticed when it was replaced with the squeal of tires peeling out, crunching over gravel and spinning out on loose dirt. Daryl covered Y/N with his body the best he could, burying them with the loose leaves and dead brush on the ground around them, both holding their breath as the infamous herd of blacked out trucks and vans sped by. When they faded out, they could both hear the shuffling and snarling of the dead as they made their way toward the community. They were unarmed and both in no condition to fight. It was going to be dark soon, and they needed to move. Fast. 

“Les’ go,” Daryl whispered and she nodded, not letting go of his hand as he pulled them up and started to lead them in the direction of the cabin. The trek wasn’t long, but being exhausted and hurt didn’t make it any easier on them. Neither one of them spoke, either, not needing words as they just enjoyed finally being together, finally being reunited after weeks of painful separation that followed long, miserable days where they were both alone and confused and afraid for different reasons. It was almost intangible. Like a fever dream. She held onto his hand tightly, refusing to let go the entire trip, and he didn’t complain.

However, he couldn’t seem to shake the nagging reminder still had to tell her why he’d left her in the first place. She’d mentioned something that reminded him of that day, those few words that Jenner had spoken to him that sent his world absolutely spinning out of control and flipped his life upside down, having never expected to have to deal with something even remotely close to it. He would have to tell her. She deserved to know. How would she react? Would it be the final straw; the last piece of the puzzle that figured out just how to break her completely? Would she be angry, like him, and storm out on a careless rampage, subtly trying to just get herself killed so she wouldn’t have to deal with it? Or self medicate, just as he’d done, to avoid having to deal with it and just hope that it would go away? He had no idea.

Either way, telling her himself would undoubtedly be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. 

“You okay?” Her soft voice tore him away from the inside of his head where he was drowning in unanswered questions. She could deliver the worst news to him, spit angrily at him or tell him she hated him and he would still just be overjoyed to hear her voice. He always knew that he’d gone far too soft for her, but being with her as she was lying unconscious in front of him... that week had engraved his need for her deep into his brain and his heart, and he knew he would probably never get over that. 

“Gotta be,” He replied. She didn’t speak but rather squeezed his hand comfortingly, and it was almost like everything bad had melted away for just for a few seconds. The cabin rose over the horizon just as the sun was setting behind it, giving it an eerie and gloomy glow, but still brought them the relief they were looking for. 

Daryl went in first, even after Y/N had argued with him about it, insisting that he was already too beat up and weak, and naturally he ignored her, making his way into the cabin to clear it out before letting her in after him. It was untouched since his last visit — he wasn’t sure how long it had been but it sure felt like fucking decades. He’d always made an effort to make sure he left no trail, no hint that anybody had occupied it, and it remained exactly how he’d left it last time. Empty and dark. 

As Y/N settled in, assembling a small fire in the wood stove, Daryl slipped out the back to take advantage of the narrow crick that bubbled through the back yard. He tore the tattered crew neck off of his body, the instant gratification it brought him almost too much, and he sloshed it around in the light current before ringing it out and using it to scrub the days worth of dirt and grime and blood that had settled into his skin.

Being dirty had never really bothered him, but there was something different about the filth that stained his body that almost hurt him; he would take advantage of any way he could to remove the constant feeling of Negan and his men lingering over him, to wash away the prints of their boots leaving muddy prints on his forearms and the dried blood from the beatings caked to his lips. In the back of his mind, he also knew that he needed to clean up for Y/N, and that any reminder of the torture he’d endured would be sure to break her down even more.

He cupped the water in his hands and splashed his face, rubbed some of the grease from his hair, basking in the feeling it would give him for just a few sweet minutes. When there was a shuffle behind him he spun around, poised and ready to either fight or run — whichever one the threat called for — but he softened when he noticed it was just Y/N peering cautiously at him. 

Somehow she looked even more beautiful in the glow of dusk, the orange light tinting her pale skin, kissing her eyes like fire. He couldn’t help it as his breath caught in his throat — what the fuck does she want with me? 

“I couldn’t find you,” she said softly, those few words mixed with the obvious concern in her voice resuscitating his heartbeat back to life and allowing him to breathe again. “I was worried.”

Daryl hadn’t even realized he’d been daydreaming, enjoying the feeling of the cool water rushing over his tired feet and through his callused fingers and dripping from his bangs in front of his eyes. “Sorry,” he shook the sopping strands from his face, if for any reason, just to get a better look at her. He tried to ignore the constant feeling of being exposed that being shirtless would always give him, regardless of who was standing in front of him, and automatically stiffened when she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. 

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, her warm breath against his cooled skin sending a chill down his spine. “I’m so tired of you being taken away from me. Please don’t ever give up on me and leave me again. Promise me you’ll stay here with me now. Please.”

“I didn’t give up on ya,” he almost bit back at her, upset that whoever had told her what happened let her believe that was the case — that he’d just abandoned her, thinking she was dead and that he would never be able to see her again, hold her again or hear her laugh again. No, in fact, it had been a reason much worse than that that had driven him away, and once again the familiar anxiety knotted inside of his stomach at the reminder that he would have to tell her. “Then why did you leave, Dartk?”

Fuck, she was literally setting it up for him. She was too smart for her own good sometimes, and she was no longer going to accept his silence as an answer. “Something happened that nobody is telling me about, and I deserve to know.”

“I know,” he uttered quickly and wrapped his own arms around her tightly, relishing the last few moments of her blissful ignorance before he dropped the news on her that might potentially ruin her. “It’s jus’...”

Y/N pulled away, looking up at him dismally. “You know, I get Maggie and Rick lying to me, but I really thought I could count on you, D.”

Fuck.

His heart literally cracked inside of his chest and he could feel it. 

“C’mon,” after a moment of silence where he let her words sink in, he gently prodded her back toward the cabin and out of the cool night air. And Y/N stayed pressed at his side, refusing to leave him and the feeling his proximity always gave her: safety, warmth, love. She’d waited so long to get him back, and she vowed to not let him out of her sight again as long as she could help it. Even when they settled back into the cabin by the small fire she’d started, Y/N sat down on his lap after he’d situated himself in front of the couch, taking advantage of the heat that the stove emitted before they’d have to extinguish it for the night. He was relieved that she seemed content in the silence, at least then, and wanted to let it go on for as long as he could without her growing more anxious. How was he supposed to tell her? 

She was sick of people beating around the bush. Tired of being dragged through the mud — especially because she knew it involved her entirely. That was fair. She had every right to be upset with him for withholding the answers from her this long. It was probably best to just come out and say it. 

With a deep sigh Daryl’s breath wavered, and he’d hoped that Y/N hadn’t noticed as she spoke up again. “Daryl, you’re scaring me.”

You ain’t even know it, girl. “Look — there ain’t no easy way for me to tell ya this, alright?” The agitation was eating him alive. “So, I’m jus’ gonna come out n’ say it.”

She simply stared at him in anticipation, her own uneasiness getting the best of her — he could tell, despite her trying her best to remain calm. God, he couldn’t even fucking look at her; her big round doe eyes bore into him impatiently, waiting for him to just man up and spit it the fuck out. 

“‘Fore all this — ‘fore you were shot,” he trailed off, the last one lingering bitterly on his tongue, reigniting the fury he’d tried so hard to suppress for her sake. This was it. No more holding back anything. “Ya... you — “

“Was pregnant.”

All of the wind got knocked out of Daryl’s sails after she’d finished that sentence for him. Did he imagine she’d said those words? Did he just hear her correctly? 

He was afraid to look at her for fear of what her expression might show — shock, bitterness, anger, devastation, heartbreak, all of them — and for fear of letting her see how he felt: which was all of those emotions and more. He was sure it was written all over his face. He could hardly get the next words out of his mouth. 

“Ya knew?”

“Well, no, but...” she tilted her head back down away from him and shrugged. He squeezed her comfortingly, the only thing he could think of doing at that moment. “I don’t know. Woman’s intuition, I guess.”

He nodded in understanding. It made sense — he’d never been around too many women in his life, but he could only assume that they would at least feel differently. Right? God, he felt as bad as he did the day he’d first heard it from Carson. “‘M so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to leave, I jus’... I jus’ didn’t...” Daryl hadn’t meant to allow his voice to catch the way it did or let his breathing stagger as the emotions he’d been fighting so hard to bury the last week alone came flooding to the surface, the comfortability he’d been longing for wrapping him like a blanket and allowing him to finally feel, much to his distaste. He knew she didn’t care, but he was supposed to be strong for her. What good was he if he couldn’t even offer her that? 

“Hey,” she whispered, her soft hands cupping the sides of his face and turning it to look at her. Her eyes too were welled with tears, and he admired how she managed to keep her composure while he sat there and broke down like a toddler. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m okay... We’ll be okay.”

He blinked at her, unsure of whether or not to believe her. Shouldn’t he being the one convincing her of that? But she stared back at him, confident and strong despite the hurricane winds all around them that were constantly threatening to knock her to the ground. “But — “

“No,” she cut him off. “No ‘but’s’, D. What’s done is done. It’s over with, and we can’t change it now. And I’m so fucking sick of letting Negan and his men destroy me — destroy us. They have taken so fucking much from us already. I’m done giving them the satisfaction of knowing they can break me... that they already did break me.”

Daryl wasn’t sure he’d ever loved her more than he did in that moment. 

“You and I — we’ve been through some shit, D. And we always make it out okay. We’re together now and we’re stronger together.”

She finished her speech by confidently pressing her lips and he pulled away, then planting light kisses up her nose and to her forehead before resting his lips against the top of her head. He could stay like this forever, and not have a single complaint. 

“Besides, I wouldn’t want to raise a kid in this world.” She sighed. “At least not how it is now.”

“Yeah, yer right.”

When he looked over at her, his heart leapt in his throat at the smile she was giving him. If only he’d known this was how she’d react the whole time, he wouldn’t have had to stress over it so god damn much.

He still remembered the feeling he got when Maggie had told him something had happened to her; the feeling he got when he showed up to the infirmary only to find her ghostly pale and covered in her own blood. Four days she’d laid there, dead to the world. Then Carson came with to him with that, and she was right: he had basically given up on her. 

But no fucking more. 

He would never leave her again, no matter what. The past month had tested his patience, not to mention his sanity and his loyalty. It had been a long, long month, the constant distance between them feeling like an enormous, deep, dark ocean. But she’d said it perfectly: they were together now, and they were stronger together. Y/N pulled his head back toward her, stealing another kiss and tearing him from his distracted thoughts — whatever they might’ve been, she knew that they still probably weren’t great. 

“I can handle anything this life throws at me as long as you’re here with me, Daryl Dixon.”

HOLY SHIT THAT WAS LOOOONG

SORRY I REALLY DIDN’T WANNA BREAK IT UP INTO TWO SMALL CHAPTERS YOU’VE ALL SUFFERED ENOUGH....

but there you go... there’s a happy ending for you all. whee! i hope you’ve enjoyed the ride. thanks for tunin’ in and until next time.... i’m wilhelm j fink

STAY TUNED FOR MY NEW SERIES!!!

i need to thank a few people for being here the whole time and always giving feedback.... ya’ll rule so hard D:

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman @mtngirlforever @sourwolf-sterek32 @qrangr @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic @deliciousassafrasssandwich  @96ssi i think i’m forgetting some but whatever..... love you guys so much!!!!

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman@mtngirlforever @sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel  @qrangr @cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic @crazyaboutnorman @deliciousassafrasssandwich @bunnymother93 @96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ima-mther-fckn-starboy @thatsoragan@lonewolf471

[purplethebunny]

In which I describe the experience of speaking with family members about the engagement and creatively rage against my father’s casual heteronormative bullshit.

 The same evening that I cariño encantador propsed to me, I called the blood family members who should probably know before facebook does – there were a lot of witnesses.

I called my sister first, who was sleepy but congratulatory. She texted me a bit more during the evening to really underline it.  My relationship with my sister is…. complicated.  That said, I expect her to essentially respect whatever boundaries I set about wedding planning or whatever with only minimal interference.  I also expect that she has a greater understanding of the meaning of this in my life.  Like, she’s stuck in her paradigm, her desperate need to be loved and how that affects all of her choices, but she understands enough to at least put a face on it for a minute, to be kind about it.

When she texted me later, she said “aren’t you glad you didn’t kill yourself before you met Ruby?”  She’s damn right too.

I called my mom next, who I also woke up.  I think her husband was a biiiiiit irritated, but I’m sure he’ll survive. Mom said congrats and started chatting with me about her recent tooth problem.  She wanted to make sure I’d called my sister.   This was all a little strange – I really don’t think my mom knows what to say.  I don’t think she views my partner as one who is “suitable” for me, and I really do think it’s partially racism, partially her own never-healthily-fulfilled obsession with big, strong men doing big, strong things. My mother is more easily understood if you assume that she has no concept of the fact that other individuals have vastly different internal lives from her own.

I put off talking to my dad until the next day. My father and I aren’t connected on facebook by my choice. I called him in the afternoon the following day, shortly before I had to leave for another task (intentionally).  I tried to hit his cell phone first, but it was straight to voicemail. I reached him at his store.

My dad initially sounded confused.  He sounded entirely baffled.  I can’t entirely understand why because we haven’t enough of a relationship for me to guess.  It was offputting.  We then had what amounts to yet another awkward conversation where we clearly do not speak the same language.

After the bafflement, he congratulated me and began offering advice.  My father is married to his fifth or sixth wife, and while it seems to have staying power, he’s left a swath of life destruction behind him.  My father exhibits the essential selfishness of capitalism: get the best deal you can out of anyone.  I believe the only kind thing my mother has ever said about him is that he always paid his child support on time.  I wouldn’t even give that (shit’s court ordered yo).

So, when his next statement is “You’ll find real happiness,” I have to swallow my tongue rather than just laugh at him.  “I am happy” I say, trying to communication with the most perfunctory language that I’ve not said yes because I’m bound by some biblical or cultural scripture, trying to communicate that I am happy.  

“Oh no,” he responds, “I mean several years down the line when the honeymoon has worn off.”  It strikes me that we haven’t anything close to the same conceptual understanding of relationships, the importance of them in our live, or neurobiology.  I’m stuck and can’t respond.  What I’d like to explain is that we DID that.  We’ve DONE that.  And that I have genuinely more experience in relationships than he does, in vulnerability and courage, in adoration and foolhardiness.  I have significantly more experience than he does in owning up to my mistakes, in forgiveness and acceptance, in staying through and being stronger for it than he ever has. I want to tell him how cowardly I find him, how disgusting I think his treatment of all the women in his life is, but I’m stuck on my tongue, on how to phrase it without destroying whatever this is. So he keeps talking.

He talks about his wife, how they’ve been together for 18 years and how there are disappointments and battles and things they can’t stand but how they just “get used to it” and are too old to change now.  Like, how do I respond that I could have settled, I could have torn out pieces of me and left them behind like breadcrumbs in a forest of unrelenting dick pics?  How I could have refused any sort of risk, how I’ve done that?  How I already know how to origami myself inside of myself until I am a frog, a bird, a flower, instead of a galaxy? How do I explain that I’m unwilling to settle, that I know it takes courage to be with me and that this is part of what my dear love, shaking and sweating but with his strong voice, offered me when he asked me to be his wife?

I don’t.

I say “Well, I’m glad you have because Judy’s kind of great.”  And she is, for someone I’ve met a dozen times and whom I haven’t had a proper conversation with since I was in my 20s.  She’s fine.

He replies jovially “Yeah, I only really stay with her for the income and cooking.  You know how men are.”  Cue laughter.

I don’t say anything.

Later, when telling my roommate of this (known ‘im since I was 14 and he knows my dad) he laughed and said “Chuck is such a slimeball HERPADERPA BETTER LEARN TO COOK.”  

Later, when I told my partner about this, he responded “HAAA!  He thinks I’m a man.”

Right in that moment I just can’t tell him how incredibly stupid he sounds and, you know, I think we’ve reached the point where the gulf between our experiences and values is too great to bridge without extensive emotional labor. Labor that I do not want to provide because he sees it as his right. Labor I am unwilling to provide because the men in my life deserve better than a crude joke suggesting they have an inability to perform basic functions.

I stay silent and he awkwardly tries to pick the conversation back up.  He asks me to send a picture, which I later realize is because he has no idea who my partner is.

This is the most surreal moment for me.  All of my father’s relationships from my mother onward have had some distinct affect on my life (Judy’s is mostly stability).  I realized that my father has no awareness of who my partner is because he sees my relationships from the lens of teenage romance.  My father is under the impression that “millennial” does not mean “adult under 40”.  My father is entirely unaware that I am an adult closer to mammogram time than I am away from it.  My partner is nearly 40.  Neither does he know my partners name, background, or what is important and beautiful about our relationship.

I send my father the picture, putting us against a rainbow backdrop in my house as the only “fuck you” I can manage.

I feel like a coward, but since I don’t assess this relationship as worth the work or risk it would take to fix it, I don’t think I can do elsewise at this time.  I think this particular relationship is headed for a change.  

[mamamia2018]

I need to write today to try to sort through my mind.  When I was a kid, I kept a daily diary that I wrote in consistently from the time I was in fourth grade until just before I graduated high school.  Over time, paper has been replaced with digital ink and now it’s just easier to get shit off my chest this way.  Long story short, I’ve been doing this for a long time.  Writing has long been therapeutic for me.  Truth be told, I wish I wrote more in times of joy, happiness.  You’ll see empty weeks in my diaries from my childhood and months between postings on my blog.  I’d like to say that these blank spaces are times of peace.  I truly wish that were the case.  Admittedly, these times are generally joyous, with little in the way to knock me down entirely.  But other times, I’m too stressed, overworked and stretched too think to even attempt to take the time to sort through my feelings.  Other-other times, I’m in a puddle beside myself, too overwhelmed with strong emotions to try to make sense of it all.  Today, I felt myself become suddenly glum, anxious.  I don’t think i’ll be able to sleep tonight without addressing it.

I have been seeing a therapist weekly for a good time now.  I honestly couldn’t tell you when I started or what initiated it, but I’m glad I went.  This journey has been so challenging.  The journey to love yourself, forgive yourself, give yourself time to heal is so, so incredibly challenging.  Well, I was diagnosed with PTSD.  Post-traumatic stress disorder.  Most of the time I just kind of laugh it off, throw it out there casually and move on.  Today that word, that diagnosis, stings a little differently.  It’s so dramatic.  Post traumatic stress disorder.  Trauma being the key word here.  Honestly, PTSD is just so scary sounding in and of itself.  You hear about veterans with shell-shock experiencing PTSD, refugees displaced from their families in times of warfare--not 30-somethings from the suburbs.  I know it’s not fair to compare, but I can’t help but feel as though mine isn’t real enough sometimes, like I haven’t experienced enough pain to have this label.  I can’t help but wonder if this is on me, my inability to cope and handle situations more effectively.  But then I remember this: I survived.  Sure, i did it by any means necessary, but I made it out of the hell that gave me this diagnosis in the first place and I survived.  I remember not to diminish my pain because someone else has a different narrative than my own.  

I keep going off on tangents.  Once, when I first started my journey into therapy and emotional healing, i had four weeks off.  My therapist had placed me on a weekly plan but due to some crossed wires, life-getting-too-crazy-as-usual, I had a month off.  I felt fine.  Recently, however, it’s happened again.  I have three weeks off and I don’t even know how to handle this.  It’s strange--I’ve become so dependent on the need to talk out loud about everything that haunts me and yet I feel so simultaneously inconvenienced by this task.  Not having a session scheduled for three weeks is filling me with so much anxiety.  I’m afraid I’m going to word-vomit all over my husband or brother.  I’m afraid i’m going to relapse into an awful behavior that puts the needs of my abuser above my own.  I’m afraid that I’m going to hurt the feelings of someone I care about because I’m too emotionally distraught and I lack the appropriate outlet at the moment.  But then--that creeping feeling of inconvenience rears his ugly head in.  I see these sessions on my calendar and let out an audible sigh.  On the day of my last session, I let out a massive groan when I was reminded by my planner that i had an appointment that evening.  Why do I have to do this again?  Why do I have to feel these feelings again and relive those painful moments in an attempt to quell their toll on my heart and head space?  It’s so much to deal with that sometimes, I feel like I just don’t have the time to do it.  But then again, here I am, so lovingly dependent on these sessions to give me an outlet and a refreshed perspective; to remind myself that it’s okay to take a stand and not feel so alone, so guilty for allowing myself to finally be a little selfish.  My therapist has told me that healing will come in waves.  One moment I’ll feel at peace, as though I’ve made progress, and the next I’ll become distraught with emotions and overcome with anger.  It’s absolutely true.  While i hate going through it, it’s a good testament to her expertise on the issue.  Healing comes in waves, and it will all be okay.  I need to step back and remind myself: I’m neither inconvenienced by the sessions or the reprocessing, I’m inconvenienced by the trauma.  Not surprisingly, trauma is incredibly inconvenient for navigating daily life, raising a child, and being a good spouse.  

When I first started this journey, my goal was to just be less angry and to begin a path of having a stronger relationship with the person who hurt me most--my dad.  As my journey has progressed, though, I stand here angrier than ever, more hurt than ever, and full of resentment that I feel 1000% entitled to feel.  I no longer crave this relationship, yet part of me feels guilty for feeling this way.  I should be sad.  I should be trying, I should be giving in and allowing my abuser to continue to have a say in my life.  I know the guilt will subside eventually and I’ll be more at peace with my emotions and my decision to estrange myself from my father--but I don’t know if the anger will ever fade.  I have less confidence that the resentment will dissipate.  I’m so mad at my father for everything he has done and put our family through.  He doesn’t deserve a relationship with me and I’m more certain that he doesn’t deserve happiness or success with others or within himself.  I know this sounds unhealthy, it deserves attention and I’m proud to say that I haven’t kept these emotions to myself.  I’ve shared them not only with loved-ones who will reinforce negativity by nodding their heads in agreement and shouting “hoorah!”, but also with my therapist who has assured me that this process could take a long time, perhaps even years.  

I mentioned last week that I truthfully didn’t know what my end goal was anymore.  After tonight, I think I am closer to knowing it.  I want peace.  I want to be at peace with this all.  What he did and what he continues to do will never be okay--ever.  What I want to do is build distance from these painful memories and be content.  I wish I could forget, more than anything.  I wish I could forget the beatings, the screaming, the running towards me, kicking and hitting.  I wish I could forget the name-calling, “you’re a failure”, “you’re a disappointment”, “you’re a slut/whore/bitch”.  I wish I could forget the late night phone calls to my home from his mistress, who felt empowered to speak directly to me while speaking ill of my mother and brother.  I wish I could forget the fear of being killed in my own hallway, being sent to work and school covered in bruises with swollen, tired eyes from crying and not sleeping.  I wish I could forget being told not to laugh too loud at the table, that it was annoying and interruptive.  I wish I could forget the shame I was made to feel for being a victim of sexual assault.  I wish I could forget the name calling that came from it--”you’re a slut”, “you deserved it”, “you’re a hypocrite and a coward for not reporting it”.  I wish I could forget the bad decisions I made in my life while I attempted to navigate a life that was founded on physical, emotional, sexual and psychological abuse.  I still wish I weren’t too cowardly to report.  Part o me feels like I did deserve it.  I am working on it.  Until I can fully reach a place of healing, these are the waves I must endure.  I continue to wake up each day, grateful that I have the opportunity to embark on this journey and with with these affirmations in my heart:

I am enough.

I am strong.

I am a survivor.

My resolution this year is to be more intentional with my affirmations.  I want to designate a moment in my day to remind myself of these truths when I am upset.  Moreso, I want to relish in these affirmations even when I am fine. 

[libralita]

Reread Review!

Title: Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians

Author: Brandon Sanderson

Illustrations: Hayley Lazo

Summary: On his thirteenth birthday, foster child Alcatraz Smedry gets a bag of sand in the mail-his only inheritance from his father and mother. He soon learns that this is no ordinary bag of sand. It is quickly stolen by the cult of evil Librarians who are taking over the world by spreading misinformation and suppressing truth. Alcatraz must stop them, using the only weapon he has: an incredible talent for breaking things.

Rating: ★★★★★

Original Review

Review:

Shut up I have a problem. This review will contain spoilers for the ENTIRE Alcatraz series. So if you don’t spoilers then read my original review.

“I am not a good person.”—Page 10

The vast majority of this reread will be me sobbing.

“I know that in writing this I shall make few friends in either world. People are never pleased when you reveal that their beliefs are wrong. But that is what I must do. This is my story—the story of a selfish, contemptible fool. The story of a coward.”—Page 11

I remember when this line was humorous.

“In my case, the moment of impending death made me think about my parents.”—Page 13

STOP PLEASE.

“Alcatraz, Happy thirteenth birthday! Here is your inheritance, as promised. Love, Mom & Dad”—Page 15

“Love, Mom & Dad”.

“Then Joan and Roy had tried to say good-bye. I hadn’t opened my door to them. Better to get tings over without all that gushing.”—Page 26

That’s not what they wanted to do!

“At any rate, I most certainly should have called the police on this elderly intruder. He has been the main source of all my problems ever since.”—Page 29

What? I mean…yeah that’s true but…

“We’ll have to strike quickly, and possibly at great peril to our lives. But that’s the Smedry way!”—Page 32

Yep.

“Perhaps you’re—despite my best efforts—feeling a bit of sympathy for me. After all orphans usually make very sympathetic heroes. Perhaps you think that my habit of using sarcasm is simply a method of hiding my insecurity. Perhaps you’ve decided that I wasn’t a cruel boy, just a very confused one. Perhaps you’ve decided, despite my feigned indifference, I didn’t like breaking things.”—Page 34

Yes. Obviously. You are very confused. Definitely.

This will be the first but not last time that Alcatraz froze when a gun was pulled out.

“You’ll understand eventually, lad, but pulling a gun on a Smedry isn’t exactly the smartest thing a man can do.”—Grandpa Smedry, Pages 40-41

Ouch.

“…and when they poop, environmentalists get mad).”—Page 44

Yep.

“Now, it’s very important to me that you understand that I am not stupid.”—Page 48

But you’re stoopid.

“‘Tell me, lad,’ Grandpa Smedry said, laying a hand on a my shoulder, ‘why did you burn down your foster parents’ kitchen?’ I started. That wasn’t the question I’d been expecting. ‘How did you know about that?’ ‘Why, I’m an Oculator, of course.’”—Pages 54-55

Wait, how did he know?

“Now, a true hero would have tackled the man who was shooting his grandfather, or done something equally heroic. I am not a true hero. I stood frozen with shock.”—Page 66-67

SOBS!

“If I’d had any sense, I’d have run away right then.”—Page 72

Harsh dude, that’s your wife.

“‘That’s sad,’ Sing said. ‘She was pretty.’”—Page 112

I love Sing.

“The room was filled with dinosaurs. Real, live, moving dinosaurs. One of them waved at me.”—Page 131

Dinosaurs are still freaking cool.

I didn’t notice that Brandon kept spelling pterodactyl differently.

“Ms. Fletcher shrugged. ‘Perhaps they just didn’t want him. Considering his…parentage.’”—Page 160

Oh shit.

“Would any decent, kindhearted individual become a writer? Of course not.”—Page 164

Favorite line.

“Ms. Fletcher cocked her head, a strange look on her face. ‘What?’ I asked. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘You merely…reminded me of someone I used to know.’”—Page 180

Attica.

“This was, of course, the first time I ever heard about a ceremony involving sacrificial Oculators. I dismissed the comment as an idle threat. Foolish, foolish Alcatraz.”—page 181

PAIN!

“‘Did you know my parents, then?’ ‘Of course,’ Ms. Fletcher said. ‘In fact, I studied under them. I thought they might be able to train me to be an Oculator.’ I snorted. ‘That’s not something you can learn.’ ‘Yes, well,’ Ms. Fletcher said, looking a little flustered, ‘I was young.’ ‘Were you friends with them, then?’ I asked. ‘I got along better with your father than your mother,’ Ms. Fletcher said.”—Page 183

I think this a bunch of half truths. Fletcher might have wanted to work under Grandpa Smedry to see if she could become an Oculator. She fell in love with Attica and also the idea of getting a Smedry Talent so they got married. Then the last line is referring to how she thinks about her past self. Like she was conflicted about being a Librarian and in love with Attica.

“It’s funny what a little taste of leadership can do to someone. A shade of responsibility, a smidgen of self-understanding, and I was ready to stand up to a full-blown Dark Oculator. I gritted my teeth, jutted out my chin defiantly, and stared him in the eye. So, of course, I got my heroic little self blasted with a beam of pure pain.”—Page 184-185

I bet getting blasted with that beam feels better than the emotional turmoil that I’m in right now. Oh the parallels in this book are going to be the death of me. Just kill me now.

C’mon, take the baby Alivened.

“Sentinel’s Glass of Ryshadium.”—Blackburn, Page 228

BRANDON!

“The mechanics of forging a Truthfinder’s Lens are complex, it read, but can be understood by one who takes the proper time to study.”—Page 266

Hey, Truthfinder’s Lens have been mentioned.

“‘What?’ Grandpa Smedry said, looking back up. ‘Edible Eddings, boy! This city is crawling with Librarians. It was dangerous enough to give you a chance to come back and say good-bye!’ ‘But you said I had to spend some time with them!’ ‘A few hours, lad,’ Grandpa Smedry said, ‘to apologize for the trouble you’d give them. What did you expect? That I’d leave you here all summer, in the exact place where your enemies know where to know? With people that aren’t even your family? In a place you don’t really like, and that is depressingly normal compared to the world you’ve grown to love? Doesn’t that sound a little stupid and contrived to you?’”—Page 287

On the one hand having foster parents who aren’t totally evil would have been nice but…dang it I love this. It’s so hilarious!

[pilgrimbenham]

Be A Man

Who comes to mind when you think of a “true man”? Maybe Chuck Norris, Arnold Schwarzeneggar, or Clint Eastwood come to mind.

Some people think a man is someone who can woo a woman while replacing an engine while disciplining his children while programming a computer, all before he smokes some ribs and deadlifts 800 pounds!

We all tend to see guys who like poetry or music or who are more of an ‘indoor guy’ as somehow less of a man.

Today we live in a day when our culture is blurring the gender lines and trying to erase manhood and womanhood. Gender equality has become gender neutrality. Young men are encouraged to be ‘genderless’: neutered men who don't know what it truly means to be a man. Some have responded to this by visiting the other extreme and think we have to have grease on our face to be a guy. But what does the Bible say?

Let's start in the book of Job.

Prepare Yourself, Like a Man

We all know what happens to Job, but as he was suffering, Job didn't know what was happening! We had the advantage of reading Job chapter 1, where we see that God was allowing Satan to test Job. Job never got to read Job chapter 1 during the trial! So in the thick of it, Job has lost his home, his children, his health, basically his wife, and his friends have offered awful counsel. And in Job 40, he's about to be taken behind the woodshed by the Lord:

Job 40:6-7 6 Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said: 7 “Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me:

Did you catch what God said to Job? Prepare yourself like a man. What does that mean? The King James version renders this as: "Gird up thy loins."

What does that mean: ‘gird up thy loins’? We don't typically use that phrase with each other. "Hey Brian, I heard you have a new supervisor. You better gird up your loins, bro!" "Oh my wife is really being naggy. Pray that I can gird up my loins..."

That phrase in Job, found in the Septuagint Greek is the same word found in 1 Peter 1:13:

13Therefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and rest your hope fully upon the grace that is to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ;

This was exactly the way in which the Israelites ate the Passover meal with their loose outer robe girded up about the waist with a girdle, being ready for a journey. Workmen, travelers, runners, wrestlers, and warriors all wore their robes tucked in so that they would be able to move more freely and without the risk of falling.

When Peter says "gird up the loins of your mind", we might use the phrase today "roll up your sleeves!"

Peter is saying you and I need to pull up the loose-hanging areas of our minds that may cause us to get tripped up. For some of us, that means thinking clearly, not with fear or doubt. For others, it is not allowing lust or inappropriate thoughts to drape around unchecked. For others still, it may be jealousy or rage or selfishness that drive their minds. Whatever thoughts you entertain, the loins of our minds need to be girded up.

When God tells Job to gird up thy loins, He's saying you need to be ready. You're going to have some work that only a man can do. In other words, God has an expectation for men.

Men and Women are Different

Men and women are incredibly different—as much as the court of popular opinion wants to blur gender. And we should celebrate the beauty of diversity in gender.

In a Harvard study of several hundred preschoolers, researchers discovered an interesting phenomenon. As they taped the children's playground conversation, they realized that all the sounds coming from little girls' mouths were recognizable words. However, only 60 percent of the sounds coming from little boys were recognizable. The other 40 percent were yells and sound effects like "Vrrrooooom!" "Aaaaagh!" "Toot toot!" This difference persists into adulthood.

Communication experts say that the average woman speaks over 25,000 words a day while the average man speaks only a little over 10,000. What does this mean in marital terms? . . . On average a wife will say she needs to spend 45 minutes to an hour each day in meaningful conversation with her husband. What does her husband sitting next to her say is enough time for meaningful conversation? Fifteen to twenty minutes--once or twice a week!

Men and women are different! We need to, like Job, understand that God has created men uniquely so that we would step up and lead!

4 Ways to Act Like Men

The church in Corinth was a very carnal church. There were arguments, factions, sexual immorality that they were proud of, people getting drunk during communion (on the wine itself) and a lot of confusion around spiritual gifts. Corinth as a city would be worse than Vegas today. To "corinthianize" meant to be someone who was a sexual deviant. Sadly, the corruption of the city meant the abuse of women: women who had lived in Corinth would probably all have #metoo on their social media statuses today. You could say “What happens in Corinth stays in Corinth!” And yet knowing this, the apostle Paul doesn't try to be soft on these men. He closes the book of 1 Corinthians challenging them with 5 exhortations:

13 Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong. 14 Let all that you do be done in love.

Did you catch that phrase: act like men? Let's use that as an overall blanket idea and then look at these other four challenges under that umbrella:

1. BE WATCHFUL.

Jesus admonished His disciples in the Garden, as well as all of His followers in several of His teachings, to watch. It means to be awake as opposed to being asleep. It is the Greek word gregereo, used twenty-two times in the New Testament. If your name is Gregory, this is what your name means: “watchful”.  The Corinthians were always in a stupor, if they were anything, it was not watchful nor awake.

Biblically, we are to watch for the Lord's return. We are to watch and pray so that we do not fall into temptation. We are to watch out for apathy. We are to watch out for false teachers. We are to be watchful in prayer.

Many men are not sober-minded so like a drunk and passed-out watchman on the wall of the city, they have no clue that the enemy is invading. We need to be watchful over our families, if God has stewarded a family to us. We must be watchful dads who know who our children are friends with, and what they are listening to and watching. We must be watchful over what we are listening to and watching! Guard our hearts and guard our eyes. Be watchful. But secondly, Paul says:

2. STAND FIRM IN THE FAITH

More literally that should be translated "stand FAST". Paul warned Christians to stand fast:

In their liberty in Jesus (Galatians 5:1)

In Christian unity (Philippians 1:27)

In the Lord Himself (Philippians 4:1)

In the teaching of the apostles (2 Thessalonians 2:15)

Are you someone who is known as a "solid" guy? You are standing firm in these areas. You are standing firm in your freedom in Christ, not legalism. Standing firm in your relationship with other believers, in your walk with Jesus, and in the Word. You are solid because you are standing fast. You aren't blown around by every wind of doctrine, or legalistic notions, or being offended by your brothers, or shallow in your walk. Oh how the Corinthian church needed to simply stand firm! Notice what they are to stand firm in? THE FAITH. Not in 'faith', but THE faith. The bedrock of the Gospel. When we stand on the Gospel we won't fall for anything.

3. BE STRONG

We are admonished 33x in Scripture to 'be strong'. A more accurate translation here would read "be strengthened." We may feel strong physically, or mentally, but the reality is we are all weak. We need to be strengthened. We are told in Ephesians 6:10 to be strong in the Lord and the power of His might. In 2 Timothy 2:1 Paul exhorted the young man Timothy to be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.

Clarke points out: “The terms in this verse are all military: Watch ye, watch, and be continually on your guard, lest you be surprised by your enemies . . . Stand fast in the faith – Keep in your ranks; do not be disorderly; be determined to keep your ranks unbroken; keep close together . . . Quit yourselves like men – When you are attacked, do not flinch; maintain your ground; resist; press forward; strike home; keep compact; conquer . . . Be strong – If one company or division be opposed by too great a force of the enemy, strengthen that division, and maintain your position . . . summon up all your courage, sustain each other; fear not, for fear will enervate you.” 

4. LET ALL YOU DO BE DONE IN LOVE

Imagine if the Corinthian church truly followed this command. They wouldn't be taking communion in a selfish way. They wouldn't allow sin to hang out in the church. They wouldn't be preferring themselves and being divisive, but would prefer others.

One pastor points out how love balances the other commands Paul just gave:

(1)  Without Love you won’t be Watching with alertness, you’ll be Examining with suspicion (2)  Without Love you won’t be Standing Fast, you’ll be Running Fast. (3)  Without Love you won’t be Strong, you’ll be Weak. (4)  Without Love you won’t be a Man, you’ll be a coward.

John Macarthur says this about love: “Love is something that admonishes and rebukes when sin is visible.  In fact I just would call your attention to the fact that if you take the 16 chapters of 1 Corinthians and you take the 13 chapters of 2 Corinthians that totals 29 chapters written to straighten out one church.  Now in terms of chapters that makes it the longest book in the New Testament.  There’s no other book that has 29 chapters.  The closest is Matthew and Acts but this one had 29 chapters because there was so much to say, because there was such a mess in Corinth.  I don’t know about you but I’d rather not have 29 chapters written about me to try to straighten me out but that’s what happened in Corinth. The book is loaded with rebuke but it’s also loaded with love because, you see, it’s love that calls to righteousness, isn’t it?”

We need to act like men, to gird up our loins as men. Stop making excuses for your lack of involvement in the church. Stop playing video games and start expanding the kingdom. Stop looking at pornography and start reaching lost people for Christ.

Be watchful, stand firm, be strong, and be loving.

Is there an area of your life in this post where you are lacking? If we will do this--act like men--we will see our families transformed. We will be the husbands our wives delight in. We will be the fathers our children respect and want to submit to. We will be the employees that glorify and please God, and who earn a reputation of honest and godly. And a church of godly men will ultimately be a church that makes a difference in a corrupt and perverse generation.

Are you ready to gird up your loins like a man?