#placid thoughtless shit

[desudog-gone]

Do you wish to enquire of my evil faggots...

[Body horror, eyestrain and stuff below]

The first of the 3 antagonists is Trick, who's not necessarily actually evil in any respect. He's a bit of a diva and cunt but that's it. He's the one who starts shit with Demise (the protagonist) first of all and starts the tensions between Mad Catz and other gangs.

He plays an innocent fawning softboi twink exterior to mooch off others. He gets his kicks tricking and pranking others, which oftentimes moves into the 'bad spirited' range. He's a bit of a pushy sex pest. He seems to get bored with people he can't either boss around, mooch off of, or keep his hands all over.

Under his unbearable act, Trick is very protective of his younger (adult) brother. He's entirely capable of being serious but seems to avoid it.

He's exclusively a top & dom, and seems to enjoy the confusion others voice about this.

Eventually his relationship with Demise becomes less aggressive and the 2 of them are on better terms and the 2 trade information back and fourth regarding the string of murders in their area.

He's almost 300 years old

Most likely to send you anon hate out of the 3

Kira is the first 'real' antagonist. He's a shape-shifting monster of unknown origin. He needs to kill to survive- with a catch, the more prestigious, respected, well known, etc, his prey is, the more actual fed by it he gets, which makes it hard for him to hide his trail or simply only feed on nobodies. He starts his own gang called COBRA. He's constantly struggling with finding his humanity vs letting his animal nature take over. He wants nothing more than to be human, but his hunger always catches up to him just as he's making progress and drags him back down into a thoughtless, emotionless beast.

He's not very good at holding his human form and because of this, tries to not talk to people often who don't know his secret, in case they notice he looks just a little different then he did before. He tends to look a little uncanny.

When he has one, his personality tends to be placid and curious. He worries about the one person he's learned compassion towards, Vova. He likes to be friendly towards people but mostly because he experiments with how they react to different ways he acts.

He has a childlike aspect to him in this regard because he's still learning how to interact with people and to navigate himself.

He spends so much of his time trying to be more human he doesn't realize he already is. In the end, despite this, his hunger consumes him and it costs him everything, even Vova who he never learned the word 'love' for.

Biggest wallflower out of the 3

Aries is hard to call an 'antagonist'. Aries is more of a drone than an individual person and has no desire to be anything else. He's ageless and void of essentially, everything.

He came to fulfill his regular judgement of humanity, which usually doesn't result in anything as the judgement is passed in neutrality. But for whatever reason, Aries is not convinced, or rather, whatever behind the curtain isn't, and he's tasked to restart the world, destroying everything.

Obviously, like nobody wants this to happen.

Demise and Little Him set out to stop Aries from returning from where he came, with occasional help from Trick.

Dealing with a much stronger, more omnipresent enemy, the 2 deal with far more, far more difficult obstacles. Before being able to confront Aries, Demise even sends Little Him away, and has to fight a mind controlled Trick, who he appears to fatally wound before moving forward.

Aries is a total 'scripted loss', who seems to always get the upper hand over Demise. But is 'killed' last moment by Nuts N Bolts who came to help out after Little Him warned them.

Seemingly appeased, the world end event never comes, and both Trick and Demise get rushed to the hospital.

Biggest enjoyer of art out of the 3.

[steveusesfaberge]

He Needs Her

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: What was he without her? Lost in his own despair, his mind and soul swallowing him whole...Billy can’t find a way out of this nightmare. After saying things he didn’t mean...he’s left alone. His room is thrown into a disaster...he’s so tired...so gone...So...he goes to get Y/N back...because he can’t do it without her...he loves her.

Type/Style: Requested, Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Angst, Cursing, self-destructive Billy (he gets violent, throwing stuff...etc.)

Word Count: +6,800

a/n: Okay - so this is basicallyyyyy Billy having the biggest meltdown...lots of memories and fluff inside those memories, but overall a very angsty story...he misses his girl lots...

It does have a fluffy ending sooo~ yay! <3

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“Never come back.” The words stung like hellfire, but Billy only licked his lips, eyes forced to the stretch of road before him. His grip on the wheel tight as her words echoed in his mind. The silence in the car was drowning him and he felt suffocated, but even if he said something - it wouldn’t change what he’d done.

“Billy.” It felt like a slap to the face. The way she’d spoken his name so...coldly. He had heard the tremble in her words, and it only had him bit his lip remembering it - crushing the gas pedal down further. Faster. Faster. Faster.

What had he done to get here? Well...it was all a blur - the night washed in black corruption that he couldn’t survive without a beacon of light; of hope...and yet...that light had been berated and degraded...the light was gone. His heart twisted painfully.

They’d gone to a party together - upon his request she’d agreed. C’mon, princess - they’re expecting us. She’d only laughed - and God, how he missed her laugh. Perfectly carved from a chorus of saints and blessings. Us? You mean they’re expecting you...Mr. Keg King. Her voice left a starved ache in him. If Billy had known that was one of the last times he’d talk to her with such sweetness in her voice...he’d have never let her go to that fucking party.

You want a drink, angel? He’d offered to get her one, to which she refused. It’s probably spiked...besides, one of us has to be sober enough to get us home, Hargrove. She’d always been the responsible one - always reminding him that he shouldn’t be so reckless. He’d always told her she worried too much - but it seemed that Karma had the longest memory and irony decided that fate would be shaken...because recklessness was too placid a word for how he’d acted that night. Thoughtless. Ignorant. Irrational. There wasn’t a word for how he’d acted...no word strong enough...

He’d secured his spot as the Keg King once more, finishing with a loud cheer and the roaring of a half-drunk crowd. How could he pass up a keg stand? - A new challenger approached and all he saw was victory.

She’d stood there - in the front, arms crossed over her stomach as she watched with an eye roll. He’d almost choked on his own alcohol-flavored spit; right then and there. With his leather jacket around her shoulders, her y/c/h hair let loose to frame her face angelically...she looked like a model. Billy only winked, while running his tongue over the skin of his teeth. Earning him a slow, mocking clap from the pretty girl.

He could hold his alcohol better than anyone - and everyone knew that about Hargrove. So, downing six more drinks and he was still standing without an issue. Maybe a slow-tone to his words, but it only added to the seduction of his voice. 

He was in the middle of it all - and that’s just how Billy liked it. Attention. Eyes on him...everyone floored by the man he was. If he’d known it’d be the last night to see her eyes...he’d have begged and prayed for only her attention, her eyes, her light, her heart alone...some man he was...

Y/N had been off to the side; after shouting over the music that her head hurt and she was tired (she’d been dancing with him for some time now, but certainly didn’t have the energy he did - nor the beer in his system). Oh, c’mon, babygirl -- stay with me? If only he’d known how much those words could mean to someone... He’d taken advantage of them. He’d taken advantage of the simplicity of slowing down...because Billy Hargrove never slowed down...and maybe that’s why he ended up crashing and burning.

He’d been dancing with some random girl - not sure who she was, nor did he care. Her body was ironed to his, and while his mind was swimming with a disoriented haze he carried on...he hadn’t been thinking straight, and it was only the start of it all. His words slow and his mind slower. His blood had been fast and his heart had been faster.

Excuse me, sorry...just gonna take him home now... Y/N hadn’t been upset with Hargrove for chatting it up with someone else. She only rolled her eyes. As a drunk Billy was always a flirty Billy (she swore he’d ask out Steve’s hair if he could in such a wrecked state). Hmmm? Pretty girl wants to dance with me now? He’d teased. He could decipher the easy things - like how this was his girlfriend and that she was now dragging him out of the hot, stuffy house to the front yard. Billy had a harder time picking up on the smaller things in his state of blind bliss...like when to shut up and what not to say at what times.

The air was cool and it sent a wave of tension down his back as his muscles reacted kindly to the change of atmosphere, a sigh come to his lips. Tell me why we walked here again? Y/N had groaned while zipping the leather jacket up, having a slight chill find her bones.

Because my house is only a few blocks away, angel - and it’d have been a waste of gas. Billy had chuckled at that, walking as if he didn’t have beer flowing through his veins with the amount of alcohol he’d taken in - probably half his body weight. His arm slung around her, bringing her closer. It didn’t seem like he were really drunk at all.

Y/N had only hummed, resting her hear his collarbone as they strolled leisurely in the direction of the said home. How can you even walk straight, Billy? You’re practically bleeding alcohol... He shrugged. I’m immune to consequences. That was a lie. A lie worse than any he’d ever tell again in his life...because if that were true...she’d have been here with him as he raced down the backstreets - telling him to slow down and get his shit together before they skid off the road...

Mhm, sure, Billy. She’d noticed that his gait was a bit off, though she expected that. His head still stuck in cloud-nine. He was talking just fine though, so she didn’t think much of it. Why’re we leaving anyway? He’d whined while glancing down to the y/c/h haired girl.

Because you were getting to that weird grey-zone where you started getting too close to people you don’t know. In other words; Billy was getting too handsy for Y/N’s taste. But I was having fun. She rolled her eyes at his weak comprehension. Playing with his fingers, she curled and uncurled them as he hung his arm around her neck.

I wasn’t - and it was getting late. Billy had groaned. Shaking his head in an irritation stirred by intoxication. You’re no fun, Y/L/N. Y/N had raised a brow, knowing he used her last name when he was annoyed - he was so dramatic.

From there, Billy couldn’t really remember what had been said to throw the situation out of control...he knew though, that he had been the one to blame. His unfiltered ego and confident intoxication left him with the brutal mess of his own damn mind.

He was now parked outside his house, he’d gone for a drive, the sun just beginning to set. Getting out with a slam of his door, he walked to the front entrance, mind still replaying everything that had happened that night...what he’d said to her.

God, Y/N! See - I knew, I knew this would happen! It always happens with girls like you! He’d shouted into the night as if the stars might take his side. They did not, and they let him fight this battle of errors on his own. 

They’d stopped walking long ago...only halfway to his house.

Excuse me, Hargrove? Why had he said that? Why didn’t he take it back? Maybe it was because, at some point, she’d brought up Harrington - how he’d told her to keep an eye on Billy at parties. Billy hated that she talked to him. Billy hated it even more, that she’d taken advice from him; treating Billy as a child under Steve’s words.

You know. I’m sick and tired, of Harrington, Harrington, Harrington...you know? I don’t need to hear his damn name from your fucking mouth, Y/N. Why does it matter if he wants you to ‘watch me or not’, heaven forbid - I go off on my own at a party!

 Billy was drunk...Billy was drunk...Billy was drunk...that’s what she told herself over and over to help keep her cool. He didn’t know what he was saying, just a little jealous...he didn’t know what he was saying...he didn’t know what he was say--

And I don’t need - you - watching out for me like my fucking mother, thanks for that. If I wanted, I can do whatever the hell I want, with whoever the fuck I want. There’re plenty of girls in this shit-hole town.

The chanting was fragmented in her mind and she could only stare at him. She wondered how he could drink so much alcohol...and yet his voice and words came out as smooth as butter. It made her eyes brim with emotion, she clenched her fists. Relax. He’s not thinking right. Don’t let his dumbass get to you.

Billy. Shut up, and keep walking. I’m not getting into this with you right now. She warned while reaching for his hand. He jerked it away.

No! You don’t get to call the shots like...like you’re in control! Did Steve tell you to do that too? Did he tell you that -- that all you do is hold me back, ‘Billy, no more beer’, ‘Billy, stop driving so fast’, ‘Billy - I thought we talked about this?’ He never did have a defect in his words, because everything he’d said was a flaw.

I hold you back, Hargrove...? she didn’t even know what to say. It was hard for her to pick apart lies from truth, and Billy from the alcohol.

Yeah, don’t you think I know I can get any girl here? The girls back there - are all fucking down for it. I get calls left and right, but here I am with a girl who listens to Harrington like he’s some saint.-- It was Y/N’s turn to cut in. Her face was red with frustration at the past twenty-three minutes of arguing with a drunk only to be faced with this. Who knew it’d only take seven seconds to crumble...

Go back to the party then, Billy! Go find some girl - and fuck her till you come to your damn senses! See if I care! Hot tears streaked her skin, and there was a flash in Billy’s eyes as a small part of him found himself sobering up at the sight of the girl before him.

Go back to that party and never come back. I don’t want to talk to you anymore, Billy. I’m going home. I’m so sorry if I held you back, Hargrove! I’m so fucking sorry for wasting your time - I only love you...and no (she’d laughed as she spoke, the tears still finding her eyes) -- no, you don’t need to ask; Steve didn’t tell me that. I thought I knew that you loved me too...I was wrong.

I was wrong. It was printed into his heart. Burning through his eyelids as he tried to sleep. It’d been seventeen days, nineteen hours, and twenty-two minutes since he’d spoken to Y/N. Seen her. Felt her. And every damn second hurt. Every damn second counted because he’d been talking out of his ass when he’d yelled at her and there was no way he could turn it around...

One, two three...

He was in his room, hands running through his hair. He hadn’t slept very well since that night. Billy hadn’t done very well at all...if a girl left him - he’d laugh and brush it off. Bounce back better than before.

Seven, eight, nine...

Not this time. He couldn’t even stand long enough to spring back. He hadn’t laughed since she’d been there; a ghost in his room now. He could see her dancing around, tripping over air while he watched from his bed...seated as he was now. Except he’d have a cigarette in his mouth, his eyes filled with desire and fire. Music would be playing and he’d watch Y/N flounder around - either singing to the song or getting distracted with something in his room.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen...

You need to dust. Y/N had once said while grimacing. The dust can sit there for my entire life and I wouldn’t give a single shit, Y/N/N. She’d only snorted, laughing. Her hands skimming his dresser as she examined his things. Oh, is this what you use? She had been talking about his cologne, and Billy would nod.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine...

Mhm. Every day, princess. Squirting it in the air, Y/N would walk into it. It smells good. He’d chuckle. I know, I bought it. Her y/c/e eyes were always so pretty - and looking to him; she’d smile. A smile so perfect - with lips so sweet...his knees would quiver with the thought of her. His mind turning to dust at the thought of her now gone.

Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four...

Is this yours too, Billy? He’d glance over from his bed, now laying down, one leg bent at the knee, as his head was turned in her direction; still waltzing around. Y/N - this is my room...everything is mine. Including the beautiful creature curiously peeking at his belongings - she had been his...God, he still considered her his.

Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven...

I know, but -- I was just asking to confirm. She pointed to his large radio and cassette player, resting on the dresser with all of his other junk (she always told him he should clean up...yet when he tried to - she’d scold him for ruining the perfect Billy mess).

Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine...

Yeah, it’s mine.

Sixty.

Another dreadful minute passed by. The memories of Y/N fading with the dying light of the sun through his window. Peals of her laughter still haunting his mind even without her being there.

His eyes wandered to the stereo rested on his dresser. Billy stood up, walking to it in a hushed sound of boots on wood. A small stack of cassettes was placed beside it, all gifts from Y/N... One, in particular, stuck out, having his name written on it; scribbled hearts surrounding it. He traced the oh-so-familiar handwriting with his pointer.

♡ For Billy Hargrove ♡

He licked his lips, turning it over in his hands, thinking about how she’d touched it - she’d made it for him. He popped the mixtape into the player’s opening and pushed it into position.

There was a soft clicking, and then...music filled the room. Music that reminded him painfully - of her. Songs they both loved, songs she knew he loved, and songs she knew he’d come to love...

He placed his hands to rest on the edge of the furniture. Head down as he stared at the ground. Billy - you’ll love this song! Come listen!

Song after song, he felt himself losing it. Every shred of dignity, every scrap of control...it was all fading away with each ending verse. His eyes screwed shut;  gritting his teeth as he curled his hands into fists, his nails digging into the wooden dresser.

Have you ever heard this one, Billy? It’s really good!

He’d never been a man of honor. He’d never had something worth his fire. Worth his spirit. Worth his time. Billy had never seen a reason to care about anyone else’s skin but his own.

But she changed him. Y/N...she changed him. She’d gradually taught him how to be sincere. His words were his honor and his fire was worth keeping lit. She gave him a reason to smile, through every hurricane...every storm...every pain...every doubt...every loss...every loss except this one.

What’s this, princess? 

It’s a mixtape, silly! - I made it for you! You know...for our anniversary...b-but...I guess you can have it now...I forgot to put it away when you said you’d be coming over.

Oh...I didn’t k-know that, angel. I didn’t think it was for n-next week - I just saw my name on it and--

It’s okay! Just take it now! I have more gifts anyway!

Thanks, angel...

Any time, devil-boy. You like the Scorpions, right? Guns N’ Roses? Aerosmith? Bon Jovi? Metal--

Yes, Y/N -- and I’m sure whatever else you put on here is fine. I’ll love it because you gave it to me, dollface.

No One Like You was leaving a sour taste in his mouth. The song reminded him too much of his mistakes - it turns out...Billy wasn’t immune to consequences. How arrogant he’d been...he had spoken fire and gotten burnt.

Billy...you love me...right?

What kind of question is that? -- Can’t you just enjoy the movie, babycakes?

I..I am! I just...do you?

For fuck's sake...of course, I do! What’s gotten into you? You...you know I love you. More than anyone else in this hellhole of a world... Why do you ask?

Just making sure...because...I love you, and it’d suck if you didn’t love me back.

But I say it all the time, angel.

I know...but...what happens if you changed your mind one day?

I won’t, angel. I won’t.

And he hasn’t. He never did, and he never will. Seventeen days, nineteen hours, and...now, forty-nine minutes... Each second only dug deeper, each minute only burning longer, each hour taking him by the neck and breaking him...and each day? Leaving him more hopelessly in love than the last.

He needed her, he wanted her, he missed her...he was greedy for her. Billy always wanted, wanted, wanted...he always needed, needed, needed... Only now, his vision was obscured, the colors swimming together like he was driving too fast down the roads of Hawkins. He fought off the wave of sobs that were threatening to close in on his being. He slammed a fist on the dresser. The power only dispatching a vibration of shock through his arm...nothing compared to the misery his sanity was taking - hit by hit, blow by blow, bit by bit...

The words of Still Loving You by the Scorpions mocked him. Sucking the air from his lungs leaving him speechless, his body shaking in a fit of protest. It wasn’t fair...it wasn’t fair...it wasn’t fair...

Tears had everything look the same, his hands striking out - casting everything off his dresser. His car keys went flying, his magazines littered the floor, books crashed down, and his heart jumped to his throat. He seized his Aramis cologne and hurled it at the wall, yelling as he did so. The strong scent wafting up, encasing him in her embrace because she liked to spray it on herself when she came over...she’d hug him and that’s all he could smell - mixed with a gentle touch of lavender and all things sweet.

Shaking his head, he harshly wiped his vision clear - not lasting very for long, as the agony consumed him and the room spun. Flinging the dresser drawers from their places, he threw them to the floor. He was lucky his weights were in his closet, packed away...he’d have busted his windows and the walls otherwise...

Billy tore the posters down and smashed the photos he had framed. His knuckles were red, cuts oozing blood from his reckless actions. He was panting, his breathing labored and unsteady as his lips produced moans of despair.

Looking up, he saw himself in his mirror. He stumbled to it, walking around the bit and pieces of broken room. A hand coming up to touch the glass - his eyes were bloodshot and his face was glistening with a mix of tears and sweat. His hair was unkempt, his shirt was hanging off his shoulders and he looked like he’d just walked out of a bar fight.

The man’s blue eyes were staring holes into Billy as he stood in the glass across from him. The man he was - the pitiful being he’d stooped to. Images of Y/N standing behind him, hugging him as he fixed his slight imperfections in the same full-body mirror he was crouched by now.

His hand reared back, and the speculum was a shattered mess of jagged lines and spiderwebs made from thin air of his grief and anger. He couldn’t look himself in the eyes...he saw how bad it was and it only made things worse. His fists beat the wall until a dent was made and his hands bled. His sobs were loud and uncontrolled. 

A stray photo was calling his name out of the corner of his fuzzy sight. It was pinned down by glass and he wiped it away, not caring if he’d get nicked by it. Billy’s hands shakily holding it up to eye-level, he used the palm of his free hand to rub the sadness away to see it clearly.

A smiling girl was staring back at him. Her arms around a man’s neck, his gaze not even paying mind to the camera...all he could see was the y/c/h haired woman in his arms. Then, click, and someone had taken that photo...someone had given it to Billy...someone had framed it for him...and he’d broken it. He folded it, trembling as he put it in his breast pocket.

He was collapsing from his ferocity and the remains of his room shamed him into a ball as he buried his face in his knees. Sitting on the floor by the broken mirror that reflected a broken man, brazenly cracked, every missing piece tossed away, yet it still managed to pretend to work...it was a spitting image of him and it shook Billy to his core.

The four walls containing the hell he’d given, representing his mind now. A splintered, haze of everything he owned - everything he knew - everything he was.

He was gagging on his own spit, suffocating on his cologne, and drowning in an ocean of loneliness he didn’t think possible.

Love, our love, just shouldn’t be thrown away.

I will be there...I will be there...

If we’d go again all the way from the start.

I would try to change the things that killed our love.

The lyrics ridiculed him. The song seeping into every cut on his hands, stabbing him in the sides, and having Billy’s grip on the last bit of reality slip away. He ran his hands through his curls, shaking his head as he let the sobs tear his throat raw.

He missed her, God, he missed her...where was she? At home? At a friend’s? At the movies? At the library? Billy needed to find her. He needed to find her and he needed to never let her go. Not again. Not like this. He wasn't going to let this fall like this.

And so, catching himself before he failed completely...he stood up. Dug through the mess for his keys and left.

Faster. Faster. Faster. He needed to be faster. He’d let too much time slip by, too embarrassed to fix himself - too lost to find himself...he hadn’t even thought of what to say when he got there...he prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that he’d just know.

Skid marks were left on the road seven feet behind him as Billy swerved to a stop. The familiar house with two-stories, and one room to the left of the house, ideally aligned with a tree. Wiping his nose with shaking hands, his shirt-sleeves uneven and wrinkled, he shuffled his way to the front door; a pocket heavy with a photo he loved. His jeans had some blood on them - from rubbing his hands along them, in an attempt to clean them. The guilt was still there though, and he wasn’t sure it’d ever be purged from his soul.

The front porch was familiar. Nights of classic-movie-scene walks up...where they’d share a moonlit kiss before parting ways. He ran his hand on the railing, remembering the times Y/N would sit there in the cushioned chairs, waiting for him to pick her up for a date. His lungs hurt.

He stood in front of the door for what felt like an eternity. Billy only managed to knock on it when he realized this was the only time he’d ever be able to work the courage up to talk to her. He needed her. He needed her. He needed her.

“Can I help y--,” a low voice had Billy’s bloodshot eyes snap up. His lips curling into a snarl at the sight of Steve Harrington. He wanted to bash his head in, yell at him, dig him a grave six feet under and bury him alive...

Instead...all Billy did was cry.

The brown-eyed boy looked at him in shock. The state of Hargrove was not pretty. He was stained with blood (Steve worried whose), his skin was flushed, his eyes were red, his form was shaking, and he looked like he’d walked from hell and back and only made it by the skin of a miracle.

“Shit, man. Um, you...you alright?” That was really the best he could come up with? Really, Harrington? This guy’s a fucking wreck...and you ask him if he’s alright?

Billy shook his head, his shoulders heavy as he used the doorframe to hold himself up. “No-o. I’m not okay, Harrington.” He bit his lip to keep from sounding too desperate - though he was long past the return of pride.

“W-What the hell are you even d-doing here?” Hargrove then spat like venom.

Steve found that protective streak in himself; crossed his arms and glared at the blond. “I could ask you the same thing, asshole.”

Billy held back his temper - deciding for himself what to do. He wiped his eyes on his forearm and shouldered past the best friend. “Hey-- what the fuck, dude? I didn’t invi--” “Where is she?”

Steve shook his head, he wasn’t doing this right now - he wasn’t going to let him do this to her again. He’d seen the way Y/N was after that night. She’d walked all the way to Steve’s house, not knowing what to do with herself - it was late...probably two in the morning.

He let her in and hugged her comfortingly until she was ready to talk. When his best friend told him what had happened...Steve had jumped up, ready to beat the crap out of Billy. Y/N only stopped him; telling him to not hurt Billy...she’d made every excuse for Hargrove...and she waited...waited for him to come and apologize. One day...two days...three days...a week...two weeks...and then now.

Now...Billy Hargrove was standing at her front door - and Harrington wasn’t going to allow him to hurt her again.

He grabbed the man by his arm as he pushed to the stairs, Steve yanked Billy back to the doorway. “Hargrove - get the fuck out! She does not want to see you.” It was a lie...all Y/N wanted was Billy...but Steve knew that she’d only break down at the sight of him, and it was just yesterday he’d gotten her to calm down fully (so like the good mother he was - Harrington was going to protect his child).

“I don’t c-care,” Billy’s voice cracked,” I want to see her...I want to see her.” His hands had come up to clutch Steve’s collar. His blue eyes blazing with passion and urgency and yearn... Steve turned his head away, hands up in a blank defense.

After a few seconds of Harrington not speaking, Billy spoke again.

“I-I...know what I did, H-Harrington. I-I’m trying to fix it...o-okay?” He licked his lips searching Steve’s eyes for anything... “You...you have to let me see her. I-I don’t care w-what you tell her...I fucking love her, and I always will....and-d I...I’m begging you, man.”

Steve shook the broken man’s hands off his shirt, stepping back, hand holding the door. Billy thought this was it - his whole being was destroyed to nothing...Steve was kicking him out...he’d never get to make it up to Y/N...he’d never be whole again.

“She’s in her room,” Steve grumbled, closing the door, with Hargrove still in the house - Billy gawking at him like he’d grown two heads. “But I’m warning you, Hargrove,” Harrington growled,” You pull shit like that again...,” Steve just shook his head, walking away into the hallway. “You know you do--,”

“I know I don’t deserve h-her.” Billy finished for him. He was much more hesitant to walk up those stairs now.

Turning before he entered the kitchen, Steve answered,” You don’t. You definitely don’t. But for some reason - you make her happy...so do your fucking job this time, will you?”

Knock, knock, knock...

She was sitting on her bed when the thuds beat down on her door. She rubbed her eyes, quickly putting the picture frame back on the nightstand - facing away from her as Steve had left it. (A picture of herself and a man whose arms were around her, her own around his neck. He hadn’t looked at the camera...and yet, she still framed the photo...wondering if he still had his...)

Y/N was a mess...she’d been a mess since that night. Even though she’d stopped crying in front of Harrington...that didn’t mean she’d stopped completely. Her hair was ratty and her skin was pale. She was a bit thinner and her clothes hung loosely on her frame.

She had his jacket piled on her bedsheets. At night, she’d hold it to her and try desperately to bring him back through sheer will. Maybe she should’ve given up on him...seventeen days...maybe she should’ve forgotten...

But a lie was a lie, no matter how it was spun. She’d never forget him. She could never forget him. His hair. His smile. His eyes. His face. His skin. His laugh. He was a ghost imitating everything she did.

It was like second-nature to her...she knew about the small scars along his skin, from a rough past and a wild present. Y/N knew about how he’d been scared to get his ear pierced - what would people think? She knew he liked his coffee black on bad days, and on good days he’d take milk with it...

Y/N could tell you the exact shade of his eyes - using numerous analogies...all relating to the sky and the ocean of the west coast...she’d never been there and that’s how she explained them. They’re so amazingly blue, like nothing I’ve ever seen before...

She could tell you about his soft spot for cats - or how he got uncomfortable when people touched his car stereo without permission...she could tell you about the times he’d come to her house; dead of night - with the only purposes of I missed you...can I just hold you? Or the nights when he’d come with a busted lip and a black eye...no words needed to communicate what he wanted...what he needed.

Y/N could tell you a lot about Billy Hargrove...why? Because...she loved him. She hated him, but she loved him...even after everything...

“Steve, the door’s unlocked,” she called out softly, not wanting to move from the mattress.

There was silence.

“Steve, just come in,” she groaned while standing up, wondering if this idiot was going to have her open the door for him. He’d been trying to coax her from her room for two weeks now...if this was his way of tricking her - it wasn’t going to work. (He’d been worse than her mother...hell, he was her mother...)

Heartbeats passed and she cursed under her breath, marching across the floor and ripping the door open. “Steve - stop, it’s not fu--”

Blue met y/c/e.

Her words failed her, her hands moving to hid her mouth, a silent cry filling her lungs.

“Y-Y/N--,” That was all he could get out before she tried slamming the door in his face. He pushed an arm out, holding the door off - his head down as he fought back his own tears.

“W-What do you want now, Billy?!” She rasped, her voice delicate as she pressed her back to the wood. Shaking her head as she used the door as a means to hold herself up - knees having been shot through since meeting those electrifying blue eyes.

Billy could tell she wasn’t trying to force the door shut...there was little pressure being applied, but he stayed still - forearm still keeping the space between door and doorway open. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her small sobs and it had him choke up.

He’d never done this for anyone before...not for his life did he think he’d have crawled back to a girl...begging hands and knees to her best friend to let him in...no...she was different. Billy would do anything for her. Some called him crazy, some called him stupid...but he knew it was just the side-effects of love.

“I’m sorry.” Two simple words, two simple words strung together by a shaking voice and a man whom she loved with every fiber of her being. Y/N shook her head, her feet sliding on her carpeted floor - she slowly fell to the ground, her arms coming to circle her knees.

“N-Not...good enough, Billy.” She breathed while memories of their times together clouded her vision unfairly.

He was quiet. Placing his forehead to the cool mahogany. His arm still keeping the door in place, his other hand finding the idle doorknob. “I-I was an idiot...I am an idiot...I should’ve...I should���ve run after you.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever h-happened to me,” he licked his lips, laughing dryly - as he thought about his fucked-up life,” Y-You know that.”

“I-I’ve never met someone as smart as you...” Y/N bit her cheek, her eyes finding the leather jacket she’d been holding onto for the last few weeks, still rested on her bed... she’d been told by the party, her friends, and her parents to throw it away...burn it...forget it...

“Someone as kind as you.” But they didn’t understand...She couldn’t burn the image of his eyes from her mind. She couldn’t burn the feeling of his skin on hers. Or how his gentle curls felt between her fingers. She couldn’t burn the ghost of his smile from her memories...she couldn’t burn the laugh that echoed through her being...because that’s simply how untouchable he was.

“Someone as beautiful as you.” But they didn’t understand...you cannot simply forget Billy. He was, and always will be, the most irresistible man she’d ever met and will meet. He was smarter than any street slick Y/N had ever had the pleasure of knowing...more clever than any Hawkins playboy she’d ever known. He knew his cards...he knew his strengths...and he hid his weaknesses...He left a picture in the back of your mind - that was simply how unforgettable he was.

“Someone as perfect as you.” But they didn’t understand... Throwing away Billy was like trying to rid yourself of poison and still drinking the contaminated bottle without a second thought. You can’t. He meant too much to her...Billy was everything to her...he was the smell of her bedsheets in the morning...he was the flow of adrenaline when she got scared, comforting her body in a wave of confidence...Billy was the shadow that followed her along the floor - making sure she’d never be alone...he was hers. He was hers...and she could not throw him away...because that was simply how much she loved him.

“I...I love you, Y/N. I fucking love you...and...and sometimes, it s-scares me. Because I-I didn’t realize how much I needed -you...until you were gone. Y-You’re the only thing keeping me a-alive in this fucked world. Y-Y/N...you’re the o-only person I want. The only person I’d give everything f-for...”

“I-I can’t do this without you...I...I was being an ass when I-I said I could...could get any girl. I-It’s not true - because I-I can’t replace you...it wouldn’t matter. T-They wouldn’t be y-you.” Billy had never poured his heart out like this. His chest hurt and he slid down to his knees, the door being the only thing keeping them apart...and even so, it was cracked open...

“Y-You don’t hold me back. That’s not true - you keep me from killing myself over stupid things. Like fights, street races, and drinking too much that I can’t stand. You don’t hold me back, Y/N,” he wondered if she was catching his poured heart...cradling it in a fine goblet of gold...he wondered if she was even listening. “You don’t hold me back, angel. You hold me up.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

The silence lasted one minute...then two...he counted three and when Billy reached twenty-four seconds into the fourth minute - the door was yanked open and revealed the most precious human being he’d ever laid eyes on.

A baggy t-shirt (one he recognized as his own), shorts too short for his taste (only because Harrington was still in the house and Billy didn’t like the idea of her walking around half-naked). She looked slim - God - was she eating? He hated himself.

Her hair was messy like she hadn’t touched it in a week....he longed to run his fingers through it though - untangle the knots and kiss her temple. Y/N’s eyes had bags under them - leaving a hollow crease of life upon her pale skin.

On his knees still, he lifted his arms weakly, the tears rolling down his face as he watched her. His lips quivered and he choked out,” Babygirl...stay with me.” He’d said the same words nights before - her y/c/e eyes shone with recognition...yet this time, it wasn’t a question. It wasn’t in a teasing quip...It was a desperate plea of the heart. Billy’s eyes were glossy - they held so much regret. Dragging his words to weeps as they stood there - staring at one another.

He looked horrible...his hair wasn’t done, his eyes were red, his face was tear-stained, his shirt was buttoned all wrong and hanging off his shoulders, his jeans were blood-stained, and he was half the height of the man she knew.

Yet, it was still the same dirty-blond hair she loved. He still had the same most breathtaking blue eyes; with a face, she’d kissed so many times. A shirt that she’d probably unbuttoned and worn herself more times than he did. Billy’s jeans were still the same white-wash that he loved, even when he was covered in dirt and grime from whatever the hell he’d gotten in to. And when he stood? He’d always be the same man she knew...the man she loved.

“Billy,” she breathed, throwing herself at him. Their bodies colliding with a soft thud as she bent down to collect herself in his open arms. “Angel, oh, m-my God, Y-Y/N.” He held her tightly...because he refused to let her go. Not this time...no...he swore on his life, he’d never let her go.

Whispering his watery apologies to her, he couldn’t keep his tough facade up (no, that’d been broken since he’d gotten there. It was shattered in his room, on the floor with the glass of his mirror). “I’ll treat you right this time...I’ll be yours...I’ll never do it again...please don’t leave me again...I’m sorry....I’m so, sorry, angel...forgive me...forgive me, Y/N.”

She didn’t answer him, only hungrily stole kisses from his open mouth, stealing the words of sorrow from his lips. The slight taste of salt lingered from his tears, mixing sweetly with the staleness of Marlboro cigarettes dogging his breath. His hands, trembling, tugged her body to his - closer than he’d ever held her before.

When they pulled away, they were sat on the floor, his back leaned against her doorframe. He was rubbing her clothed-back as she hid in his neck, her arms tightly wound around his torso as if he’d melt away. Billy had never felt so relieved in his life...he’d never felt so saved...so fortunate...to simply hold a body between his legs, arms circling a waist he loved. He wondered if she could hear his heart. The one that was loudest for her - the heart that cried when she left, having Billy do stupid...stupid things...like a beast...Y/N tamed him...like a drug...Y/N entangled him.

“I-I forgive you, Billy.” And that’s all it took...for Billy Hargrove to lose himself completely. In everything, she was; hanging on her every word. He’d never leave her side...Billy would never let himself do such a thing....not again.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, thumb drawing circles into her hip, his voice coarse from his meltdown at home.

Y/N only shook her head. She needed him. He needed her. They deserved one another because that was simply how they were made...human flaws were meant to find the ones who made them...better. Whether it be a true defect in human nature...or a saving grace. Billy deserved her, just as Y/N deserved him.

Cupping his face, she let out a laugh...a real laugh...one she hadn’t produced in days. A smile so true, it stopped Billy’s heart...just for a moment. That moment being long enough for him to realize he had the love of his life back...reality made him return the simper. 

“Did Steve tell you that, Hargrove? I thought we didn’t listen to Harrington, Billy?”

He kissed her.

--

a/n footer: You know that moment that your heart just...sighs? That’s what I felt writing this...

The request of Steve Harrington x Hargrove!Reader that everyone seems hyped about is coming out...tomorrow? How does that sound? :) Then pt.2 of Sunsets Back Home (because I’m angsty rn and I can’t ruin Sunsets fluff)

Tagged List:

@novaddictx @mairalynn416 @wefracturedmotivation @truthdaze @xxcxrolinexx @savingprivatecass @emmalbg @timeladygallifrey @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air @billyhargrovescigarette @krystalane @truthdaze @neverlandsoundsgood @friendlyneighbourhoodmercenary @imarockstar145​

Let me know if I’ve forgotten anyone! <3 I hope you enjoyed!

[mrs-han]

Water Runs Dry - Part One

~~~

For my beautiful @jafndaegur ♥️♥️♥️

This is totally different from what I had originally planned, but!! I really hope you like it!!

Happy Belated Birthday, my darling!!

~~~

“Aahh!!!!”

Sarah’s shriek resounded through the penthouse. A sound that would have otherwise deafened you, you were far too preoccupied with him, the man gripping your arm with one hand and steading your chin with the other. 

“Wh - what, what are you...!!” Sarah stammered her voice but a faraway mirage. 

You pulled away enough to create some space between your body and his. “... Ju - Jumin...?!” 

“Shh...” His placid hush followed by a more established squeeze on your chin silenced you... captivated you. “You’re blushing.”

“... We - well, of course, I’m blushing, y - you’re k-k - kissing me...” 

“You’d better close your eyes,” Jumin hummed, his lips barely brushing against yours. “Focus on your senses.”

“Jumin...”

Your emotions began to pound as his lips reconnected with yours. A small buzz - a voltaic shock caused your head to jerk back, but he refused to release you. In that very moment, you two were the only ones who existed. But as he opened his eyes and looked toward Sarah, a sinking sensation in your stomach took hold.

“Ugh... I’m going to tell Ms. Choi!” Sarah stamped her foot and drew her phone from her purse. 

“Yes,” Jumin sighed. “Having an audience for our first kiss takes off the tension.” His eyes fell back over you and a slow, steady smirk ran over his lips. He spoke gingerly to you, completely different from the curt tone he had given Sarah. “Your lips are so warm and soft. And... I think I smell a bit of the pancake?” He beamed. “You’re cute, MC.”

“How...! I’ve never been so insulted!” Sarah roared, her voice moving further away from where you and Jumin stood. 

“God... finally she’s leaving,” Jumin huffed, his hold on you relaxing.

The door to the penthouse slammed roughly, making you jolt in place. Jumin caressed your arm and moved his thumb over your cheek, stroking delicately... but you felt no comfort. No sense of solace. The warmth and vibrancy of the kiss had dissipated, leaving you with more questions than whimsical ideas of what the future held for you and Han Jumin. 

He could sense the tension emitting from you. A small blush crept over his cheekbones as he said, “I’ve wanted to do that from the first moment I saw you.” He took steps toward you - bold and confident about what he had done.

But the pounding sensation in your heart faded... and once curled fingers and toes from the sheer passion of the kiss unfurled as a heat of a different kind overcame your senses. Your cheeks and ears burned with embarrassment, even anger. Your brows furrowed and your arms wrapped firmly around your midsection.

Jumin stopped.

“What... what was that all about?”

Confusion flashed through his expressions, which upset you further.

“How disconnected are you...?” You rasped, barely able to get your words out.

Jumin’s eyes widened. “MC?”

“You really don’t see what you did?” Your voice crackled back to life, a flash of rage rising to the surface and flowing from your tongue. “You kissed me just to get rid of her.”

He blinked. “MC... I’m sorry if that was so sudden. I wanted you to be comfortable here... perhaps I’ve bothered you.”

“Bothered me,” you whispered, running your hands through your hair. “That wasn’t real, was it?”

“What... of course it was,” Jumin frowned. “The kiss was very real. As I said, I’ve wanted to do that from the first moment I saw you -”

“You used me to get her out of here,” you blurted, pointing towards the door. “And it worked. She’s gone. But I’m still here dealing with the repercussions of your... your agenda!” 

Jumin’s gaze dimmed. His lips formed a grim, straight line. “MC, I didn’t mean to cause you any pain. Can you believe that, at least?”

Your body began to tremble. “Your cat is missing, by the way. Was kissing me a way for you to distract yourself from that too?”

“This has nothing to do with that,” Jumin replied, his voice louder and more imposing. “My emotions have caused me to act in a way I normally wouldn’t. I was impetuous and thoughtless, this I will admit. I should have been more considerate of your emotions. But MC, my feelings for you are real, solid and sincere. I realize that the longer Elizabeth the Third is away that you are indeed different from not only her but the other women I’ve met in my life -”

“Oh my god,” you laughed bitterly. “So now you’re comparing me to your cat.”

“Listen to me,” Jumin’s voice dropped and his hands immediately went to fiddling with his sleeves. “You aren’t listening to me.”

“I think I hear what you’re saying loud and clear,” you spat sharply.

“You aren’t,” He whispered, vulnerability dripping from his speech. “I’ve never known what it truly felt like to have that one person. That one special person who can truly understand me... who I can touch and kiss and understand what I’m saying. Seeing you right in front of my eyes... I feel like I’ve finally gotten what I’ve always wanted.”

His eyes - those alluring orbs that resembled the foams of the ocean but plunged you in just as deep as the waters themselves - bore into yours.

“I want you,” Jumin hummed, confident enough to take a step toward you. “And I want you to want me too.”

Your hands fell to your side. “I admit... your words are very pretty...”

“They’re honest. They’re real,” he said as he grabbed your hand and pressed your knuckles against his lips. “I mean everything that I say. Answer me now. Do you believe I intentionally meant to cause you any pain?

“No,” You began. “But I do think you had a plan... one that didn’t dare to consider what I might think or what I might do... and you pushed through in fulfilling it.”

“MC -”

“That was my first kiss.” A pained smile flashed over your lips. “Maybe it was wrong of me to fantasize it to begin with but... never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined it being done with a hidden motive attached to it.”

“MC, please -”

You pulled your hand away. “I need to get out of here... ah... right, I didn’t bring anything.”

“What, wait. No.” His wing-tipped shoes struck the floors frantically as he rushed to block the door. “MC, don’t leave.”

“Please move, Jumin.”

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone.”

“Jumin.”

“Please.”

A brisk shove of your shoulder caused him to step off to the side. He tried to reach out for you, an action taken in vain as you quickly skirted away from him and to the door.

“MC!” Jumin shouted.

“Ma’am?” The chief bodyguard called after you. “Ma’am, where are you going -”

“Stop her, now!” Jumin boomed.

You dashed to the staircase, yanking your phone from your back pocket. If anyone could help you... or at least give you some sense of comfort... it was Zen.

You urgently punched his image through the RFA chatroom.

“MC!!” Jumin hollered, his voice ringing through the stairwell.

“Leave me alone!!” You barked back, nearly stumbling over yourself.

“MC? MC, are you there?”

“Zen?” You gasped.

“Where are you? Did something happen?”

“Can you pick me up?” You sniffed, wiping at your nose. “It’s urgent.”

“I’m on my way.” Frantic rustling from his end only heightened your sense of awareness. “Are you still at Jumin’s penthouse?!”

“I am,” your voice trembled. “Please hurry.”

“I’ll be right there. Hold on, okay?”

You silently thanked him for his swiftness. He was the first to ask questions, and no doubt he would have some. But in urgent matters... especially matters that involved your safety... he was fast on his feet.

You looked back, just to make sure Jumin wasn’t following you. As you did, you yelped as another stumble caused your ankle to roll over the weight of your body. You landed on your hands and knees, fully aware of the sprain on both your ankle and maybe even a wrist.

“Shit,” you hissed, grabbing onto the railing and pulling yourself up. The lobby wasn’t far, and that mentality gave you the strength to limp down another long flight of stairs.

Music mixed with heavy perfume welcomed you as soon as you opened the door to the foyer of the building. Excited chatter as shoppers hustled and bustled through the apparel outlet C&R had graciously bestowed gave you ample opportunity to sneak through the entrance undetected by the bodyguards who knew your face.

A motorcycle engine revved furiously, startling you as you limped outside. You could recognize him immediately despite your only evidence of his existence from his chatroom selfies; his silver ponytail whipping smoothly through the wind, his lean yet athletic physique...

“MC?!” Zen panted, haphazardly jumping off his bike, snatching his helmet from his head and nearly sprinting over to you. “MC, are you... why are you limping?”

And his eyes... crimson and full. Full of worry, passionate for you cause, and a friendliness that couldn’t be contested.

“I’ll explain everything later,” you tried to smile while wiping the tears coursing down your eyes. “For now, can we go?”

“I’ve got you,” Zen reassured, curling his arm under your legs and lifting you into a bridal-position. “You can lean on me if you need to, don’t be afraid to rest your head on my back okay?”

“Thank you Zen,” you whimpered.

He placed you on the passenger seat and secured his helmet over your head. “Okay,” he assured calmly, settling into the seat in front of you.

“Wait, Zen, your helmet -”

“Ah-ah. You expect me to let a lady ride without any protection?” He smiled. “Trust me. I’ll get you away from here safe and sound.”

“Thank... thank you,” you sighed, hesitantly hugging his waist. “Thank you so much... and it’s nice to meet you by the way, I’m MC...”

A soft chortle escaped him. “Nice to finally meet you, MC. I’m ZEN, the KNIGHT who has NOBLY COME TO YOUR RESCUE!”

The theatrics in his tone allowed you to burst out laughing... for a short while. Jumin burst through the doors of the building, his bodyguards in tow.

“MC!!” Jumin’s voice thundered.

“We’re going!!” Zen whooped, revving his engine and speeding ahead.

“Wah!!” You yelped, your head crashing against Zen’s back.

“Hang on!!” Zen shouted, weaving through lanes of traffic.

“Zen, oh my god!!” You gasped, adrenaline spiking through your body.

“By the way!!” Zen turned his head slightly. “Do you know where Rika’s apartment is?!”

“No!!” You answered.

Silence.

“We- well!! ... Uhhh!!” Zen stammered. “If...!! If it’s okay with you, you can stay with me until we figure something out!!”

“And if we don’t?!”

“We... well!! We can always talk to Seven!! Besides!! Any place is better than Jumin’s, right?!”

A settled feeling coursed throughout as you silently agreed.

[spiritmaiden23]

Bold your muse’s personality traits. Italicize what’s circumstantial.

TAGGED BY:  shIT I THINK IT WAS @imaginembrace​ kels i’ve almost forgotten your url i am so sorry  TAGGING:  steal it yo it’s been years and idk who’s where or active 

NEGATIVE TRAITS

abrasive. abrupt. agonizing. aggressive. aimless. aloof. amoral. angry. anxious. apathetic. arbitrary. argumentative. arrogant. artificial. asocial. bewildered. bizarre. bland. blunt. boisterous. brittle. brutal. calculating. callous. cantankerous. careless. charmless. childish. clumsy. coarse. cold. colorless. complacent. complaining. compulsive. conceited. condemnatory. conformist. confused. contemptible. conventional. cowardly. crass. crazy. criminal. critical. crude. cruel. cynical. decadent. deceitful. delicate. demanding. dependent. desperate. destructive. devious. difficult. disconcerting. discontented. discouraging. discourteous. dishonest. disloyal. disobedient. disorderly. disorganized. disputatious.disrespectful. disruptive. dissonant. distractible. disturbing. dogmatic. domineering. dull. easily discouraged. egocentric. envious. erratic. escapist. extravagant. extreme. faithless. false. fanatical. fanciful. fatalistic. fawning. fearful. fickle. fiery. fixed. flamboyant. foolish. forgetful. fraudulent. frightening. frivolous. gloomy. graceless. greedy. grim. gullible. hateful.haughty. hedonistic. hesitant. hidebound. high-handed. hostile. ignorant. imitative.impatient. impractical. imprudent. impulsive. inconsiderate. incurious. indecisive. indulgent. inert. inhibited. insecure. insensitive. insincere. insulting. intolerant. irascible. irrational. irresponsible. irritable. lazy. malicious. mannerless. mechanical. meddlesome. melancholic. messy. miserable. miserly. misguided. mistaken. money-minded. moody. morbid. muddle-headed. naive. narcissistic. narrow. narrow-minded. negative. neglectful. neurotic. nihilistic.obnoxious. obsessive. obvious. odd. offhand. one-dimensional. one-sided. opinionated. opportunistic. oppressed. outrageous. paranoid. passive. pedantic. perverse. petty. plodding. pompous. possessive. power-hungry. predatory. prejudiced. presumptuous. pretentious. prim. procrastinating. provocative. puritanical. quirky. reactionary. reactive. regimental.regretful. repentant. repressed. resentful. ridiculous. rigid. ritualistic. ruined. sadistic. sanctimonious. scheming. scornful. secretive. sedentary. selfish. self-indulgent. shallow. short-sighted. sloppy. slow. sly. small-thinking. softheaded. sordid. steely. stiff. stupid. submissive. superficial. superstitious. suspicious. tactless. tasteless. tense. thievish. thoughtless. timid. transparent. treacherous. trendy. troublesome. unappreciative. uncaring. uncharitable. unconvincing. uncooperative. uncreative. uncritical. unctuous. undisciplined.unfriendly. ungrateful. unhealthy. unimaginative. unimpressive. unlovable. unpolished. unprincipled. unrealistic. unreflective. unreliable. unrestrained. unstable. vacuous. vague. venomous. vindictive. vulnerable. weak. willful.

NEUTRAL TRAITS

absentminded. ambitious. amusing. artful. ascetic. authoritarian. big-thinking. boyish. breezy. business-like. busy. casual. cerebral. chummy. circumspect. competitive. complex. confidential. conservative. contradictory. crisp. cute. deceptive. determined. dominating. dreamy. driving. droll. dry. earthy. effeminate. emotional. enigmatic. experimental. familial. folksy. formal. freewheeling. frugal. glamorous. guileless. high-spirited. hurried. hypnotic. iconoclastic. idiosyncratic. impassive. impersonal. impressionable. intense. invisible. irreligious. irreverent. maternal. mellow. modern. moralistic. mystical. neutral. noncommittal. non-competitive. obedient. old-fashioned. ordinary. outspoken. paternalistic. physical. placid. political. predictable. preoccupied. private. progressive. proud. pure. questioning. quiet. religious. reserved. restrained. retiring. sarcastic. self-conscious. sensual. skeptical. smooth. soft. solemn. solitary. stern. strict. stubborn. stylish. subjective. surprising. tough. unaggressive. unambitious. unceremonious. unchanging. undemanding. unfathomable. unhurried. uninhibited. unpatriotic. unpredictable. unsentimental. whimsical.

POSITIVE TRAITS

accessible. active. adaptable. admirable. adventurous. agreeable. appreciative. articulate. aspiring. athletic. attractive. balanced. brilliant. calm. capable. captivating. caring. challenging. charismatic. charming. cheerful. clean. clear-headed. clever. colorful. companionly. compassionate. confident. conscientious. considerate. constant. contemplative. cooperative. courageous. courteous. creative. cultured. curious. daring. decent. decisive. dedicated. deep. dignified. disciplined. discreet. dramatic. dutiful. earnest.educated. elegant. eloquent. empathetic. energetic. enthusiastic. exciting. extraordinary. fair. faithful. farsighted. flexible. focused. forgiving. forthright. freethinking. friendly. fun-loving. gallant. generous. gently. genuine. good-natured. gracious. hardworking. healthy. hearty. helpful. heroic. high-minded. honest. honorable. humble. humorous. idealistic. imaginative. impressive. incorruptible. independent. individualistic. innovative. inoffensive. insightful. insouciant. intelligent. intuitive. invulnerable. kind. knowledgeable. leader. logical. lovable.loyal. many-sided. masculine. mature. methodical. meticulous. moderate. modest. multi-leveled. neat. objective. observant. open. optimistic. orderly. organized. original. painstaking. passionate. patient. peaceful. perceptive. perfectionist. personable. persuasive. playful. popular. practical. precise. principled. protective. providential. punctual. purposeful. rational. realistic. reflective. relaxed. reliable. resourceful. respectful. responsible. responsive. romantic. rustic. sage. sane. scholarly. scrupulous. secure. selfless. self-critical. sensitive.sentimental. serious. sexy. sharing. simple. skillful. sober. sociable. sophisticated. spontaneous. sporting. stable. steadfast. steady. stoic. strong. studious. suave. subtle. sweet. sympathetic. systematic. tasteful. treacherous. thorough. tidy. tolerant. tractable. trusting. uncomplaining. understanding. upright. urbane. venturesome. vivacious. warm. winning. wise. witty. youthful.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 30

A/N: Only one more to follow this chapter, my sweets. I’m dotting the “i’s”, and making sure I'm firmly proud in how I close things out with my most precious Liv, and perfectly flawed Colton. And, my heart may, or may not, be breaking piece by piece as I do so. 

“You have my ring, right?”

“Got it, baby. Right where you asked me t’ put it for safe keepin’.” He flashed proof of the dazzling diamond ring looped through the chain of his silver necklace clasped around his neck.

Colton massaged and worked his tough hands over the spasmed mass of my anxious shoulders, and kissed my cheek from behind. Willow, who was chatting casually to Cal at my left, had pulled my hair into taut braided buns to ensure the stubborn mass stayed clear from my tunnel of vison. The cage apparel that Colt suggested fit to a tee, and I hadn’t felt like a fraud entirely when standing to inspect myself in the mirror of my dressing area. Now that I was dressed the part, it was time to rise to the occasion and act it, too. 

I hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone but Colton since 7 a.m., and the pair of us had isolated ourselves to the calm four walls of the bedroom for most of the day. Aside from the very brief, yet extremely placid walk around the block after begging him for a glimpse of the sunshine. I was overcome with excitement reflecting from the night before, and wanted nothing more than to spend the entire weekend celebrating the engagement with the ones I cherished almost as much as my soon-to-be husband. But, I wasn’t a quitter, and staying true and reliable to my word wouldn’t be an attribute I’d abandon. The fight was happening, and I’d save the celebratory kisses and champagne toasts for later.

The floor length velvet of a curtain that shielded me from the babbling gossip of a sizeable crowd was opened hastily, and I was shaken from my daydreams.

“Do you know where my parents are? Did you make sure they got to their seats?”

“Everythin’ is square, baby girl. I took care of it! Mac is with ‘em, and I think they got Drew wit’ ‘em, too. You let me worry about all that.” He whispered into my ear, willing a sensation of calmness like still water over me.

Unsure of where my own thoughts dwelt, or what emotion I should let take the spotlight, a glassy teardrop or fear, contentment, focused intent and divine love stained down my cheek. Colton, understanding better than no one else the overwhelming sense of whirling adrenaline before a competition, and also understanding what a train wreck of busy worry I was, kissed away that spilling down my face and burrowed me into the safe harbor of his reliable shoulder. I choked back the emitting of an uncontrollable breakdown and swallowed down the home-like familiarity his touch made me feel amongst all the background noise.  

“Breath, baby. Breath, and listen to me, okay?” He pleaded surely as he held me into a bear hug. His strong grips, and the suffocating warmth of his embrace seemed to stifle out the painful attack of nerves I felt fogging my thoughts. “You, yeah? You are the single most amazing fuckin’ person I have ever met, Liv. And whatever happens with her, that girl out there in that cage, doesn’t change that. Win? We gonna walk outta here, arms around each otha, and go home. Our home. The home we made together, and we gonna plan that ridiculous fuckin’ wedding I know you already thinkin’ about. And lose? Well, lose ‘n we’re gonna do alla that stuff still. Bu wit’ ice cream. That chocolate, Rocky Road shit or whatever it is you always buy.”

I felt his stiffened muscles loosen around me when he heard my chuckle and sniffling into his fresh shirt. There wasn’t a single shred that doubted he wouldn’t nurse and coddle whatever bruises or breaks I walked out of the arena with in the next few hours, kicking and spewing at anyone who dare make me feel lesser, or ashamed if I didn’t wind up victorious. Even when he fought so hard to convince me that night at Mac’s gym that he didn’t feel right about my whole plan, I knew he’d never turned his back on me.

“And kisses, too. Win or lose, I’d like lots of those too, please.”

“Girl, we are puttin’ your mom and pop on that plane tomorrow mornin’ at 4:00 a.m. sharp, and I will kiss you a million times top to bottom. An’ this time, you won’t have to smother that pretty fuckin’ face with ya’ pillow to keep quiet.”

I sucker punched his relaxed gut, and an outburst fluff of wind came forth. I was starving for those thoughts he was insinuating, but my thoughts needn’t become distracted with the tempting desire for his sinful body at a time as such.

“Liv, you ready, mama? It’s all you, girl.” Willow snuck hesitantly towards the intimate moment between Colton and I, warning my intro was coming up.

I hopped, and danced back & forth on nervous feet, Colton blowing cool breath on the back of my neck to simmer the reddening, heated glow of my skin. He had funded new shirts before his proposal with his original logo for the new gym printed across the back. We spent a hefty chunk of our hiatus day tossing back and forth possible ideas we had for the place, and how we’d manage the renovations along with wedding plans. He grinned and pridefully rambled about how he wanted things to play out, and the goals he had to start training and settle away from the actual competing so he wouldn’t end up a stuttering potato head before he reached 30-years-old. The wife in me definitely agreeable to a decision as such.

I had no foolish hallucinations that fighting would pack up and disappear from our lives altogether, and neither did I want it to. It introduced us, it seduced us, and it reunited us. The octagon was the beginning of us, the middle, and many, many years down the road, most-likely be lingering at the end as well. But, I wanted a healthy, strong, and happy man at my side living his most full life until then.

“Alright Miss Elliott, when you hear your song, I’m gonna pull this curtain back and you can make your way through that open pathway there. Make sure you check in with that official standing outside the cage for inspection. All clear?” A lanky man sporting clear-rimmed eyeglasses and a headset appeared from the outside to line out the play-by-play.

I nodded, my nervous mind delayed processing his information.

“Wait,” I looked to Colton. “How will I know when I hear my song? You never told me what you chose.”

Remaining loyal to our tradition, I allowed him the honor of selecting an appropriate tune to announce my ring-side arrival as I had done for him. Only due to the confidence I had in his impressive taste in the field of music. He’d choose wisely, not welcoming of the backlash that would accompany if he got any ideas about some cheeky, bubblegum pop tune.

“I’m right behind you, silly. I’ll know. Plus, when you hear it, I think you will, too.”

I swished and swallowed from a chilled jug of water, needing the cool down inside my incinerated veins. The focused silence inside the tunnel mollified the sputtering rolodex of jitters, until suddenly a shake-up ensued in the shadows behind us, causing Colton to detonate with protest.

“No fuckin’ way!! Go! Now! Get the hell away from ‘er!”

I shoved, and searched for a simple peep at whatever disturbance had him hovering in front of me, as if to hide me from some sort of oncoming threat.

“Willow, you betta do somethin’ about her. Nobody wants her here, and Liv sure as shit doesn’t need her ruining her focus right now.”

By now, the prowling security, and probably the crowd in its entirety, had caught wind of the troubled scuffle. Two able-bodied guards invaded the area to diffuse the situation, deciding Colton was the source of friction. They secured him around both arms, calmly reasoning with him to get his fit under control and lower his boisterous volume.

When I was finally able to search for whatever intruder had unwrapped his infuriated state, Tia was the seething and spitting through a gnashed frown. Her reddened, angry-swelled face was sordid with tears, and her knuckles were ghostly white in a tensed fist. She sought me out with loud, pleading calls of my name as Willow whispered in her ear, trying to direct that she exit before more drama unleashed.

“Liv! LC, hey!!”

I hadn’t spoken to her since dismissing her at the weigh-in only 48 hours ago, but every fiber in me wanted to reach out. To spill extreme nerves over the fight, to introduce her to my parents who would be returning to Westfield soon, even to screech giddy excitements over visions of a summer wedding at Springwood Manor, no matter how frigid and opposed to the nuptials she might be. Despite her downright bratty, over-the-top behaviors over the last few days, and the painstakingly deep-rooted grudge she continued to hold against Colton, Tia was my friend. She had been the closest resemblance of bond wound like the one I held with Sara, and I wasn’t ready to toss those embers to the wind yet.

“Willow, let her through. It’s fine.” I strangled, swallowing nerve-thickened spit.

She ran to me, dismissing Willow’s grasp, and began to sob herself empty of the regret and apologies eating away at her. Colton, elbowing the solid gut of one of the guards holding him hostage in the wings, broke free considering an interference between Tia’s open arms and my own. But, as a subtle, forgiving smile ghosted across my lips, he bit his cheek and crackled his knuckles, deciding he’d be the bigger person and forgive her, If I was willing to brush away her faults, then he may as well wave the white flag, too.

“I’m just sorry, ok? I’m so damn sorry. I was a bitchy little fucking child, Liv. And I was reckless, and conceited, and I was just trying to protect you, maybe? I don’t know. God, I’m just sorry. I can’t-“

“I forgive you, stop it. Alright? I forgive you.”

She seemed deeply puzzled with my thoughtless decision to welcome her apologies with an uncluttered heart. Her contrite eyes still trickling with tears, I patted her cheeks and kissed them with deep intent of a peace offering despite all the recent crossfire. My quickened acceptance may have slightly been attributed to the dwindling minutes I had before my fateful walk towards battle, as well.

“Now, clean your messy ass up, and walk down with us? I want you out there.”

Rather than doing as told, she uncertainly looked to Colton who was silently lurking on the sidelines of our conversation. It was he who she knew would pose the most treacherous conditions for reaching mercy. He certainly didn’t want Tia within a hundred-mile radius of us, or this night. And he didn’t bother with the fluty illusions of hiding it in his stern features. But, his always desire to stand within the light of my good graces if the matter was something as harmless as such, rallied over his heart of steel toward her.

“If Liv wants you out there, I ain’t standin’ in the way. But, don’t think you’re gonna get out there and get into her head, Tia. She and I have been over this night a million times, and she knows I’ve got her best interest. It ain’t your place to get out there and try to undercut every little thing I say. You hear me?” Colton wiped the tight neck of his t-shirt over his trembling top lip, his face becoming glossier as he unsympathetically chastised her.

“Ten seconds, Liv. You all good back here?” The event director checked his watched and covered the microphone of his headset.

Kissing Colton, and reaching for an assured squeeze from Tia to my left, I gave him the greenlight and waited for my unknown que. For a split second, the steaming lights cut in the building, before I heard a bumping bass tune beat over the arena speakers. Once I recognized the riff of the modern-day rappers hit song, my mind fell back onto the memory of a very particular afterhours grapple with Colt in the familiar home-base of our living room.

One month earlier.

“You’ve got to plant those feet deeper, baby. If she can rattle your stance, you won’t be able to hold the choke.” Colton constructively criticized my two-stepping, shaky feet as I held his impossibly thick neck between my forearms.

He’d bought a mat for living room so I could train some at home when late nights in the office kept me out of the gym. And with the couches lined to the wall, and my bargain-find ottoman scooted into the kitchen, we had plenty of room to rehearse for my big dance. The house entirely dark apart from the standing lamp near the window, and the occasional outside glow from the full moon in the sky, he intended to exercise my worn muscles well into the wee hours of dawn to prepare me.

Colton clad in only slick, gray shorts leaving little to the imagination along with bare feet, paused for a break to power-up the speaker in the kitchen and roll through his own work-out playlist. I turned a chilled bottle of water belly up, my manners dispersing as drippings of a hearty gulp rolled down my chin and the icy droplets soaked into the front of my shirt. Pulling lose the sodden t-shirt, I stripped down to stretch in the elastic of my sports bra, waiting for my live-in coach to return. Colton wheezed in deep breath once steeping back on the sweat-sticky mat, his eyebrows dancing at the dismissal of my clothing.

Taking his apparent state of arouse in a moment of unguarded distraction, and I went lightening swiftly for his legs. Once my grips fought to take his feet from under him, and I realized there was truly no way I could tear him down, my arms loosened with hysterical laughter. Colton amused at my bold attacks began gasping for air with amusement too, before the pair of us fell into a tangled mass on the floor.

My electrified, skin hit atop his own heaving chest, and his flesh kindled me from top to bottom. He smiled, and blew away and chunk of my bangs that had fallen loose to tickle his nose, and brushed a lazy finger down the center of my face. The salty tip trailed down my forehead, over the bridge and tip of my nose, and welcomingly loitered over my suddenly heavy bottom lip. Our stares searched each other, whispering secret fantasies and hopeful flashes of the future together. I felt the outline of each of his rocky abs imprinting into my belly with the rise and fall of his breaths, and my mouth knew nothing more than to kiss him. With his hands cuffed together over the dip in my back, and my grasps massaging over his hot ears into his slickened hair, I sought out some sort of fractioned relief between my thighs. As I ground my hips into the ripple of his toned thigh, he pulled free to speak.

“I’d say this background noise is pretty appropriate for how I’m feelin’ right about now.”

The pulsing bassline of the atypical to my taste hip-hop song chimed throughout the house, and I recognized the tune from the radio a few years back. It was a Drake song, “Make Me Proud,” Colton later informed me. The repeating of the chorus rang out as a man, being proud of the lady in his life, and all of her small, or monumental achievements in life. It may have been a song that I would have most likely been deterred from, but when I stepped into the perspective of my own lover being honored to stand firmly in all things alongside me, and pat me on the back through the journey, I found it to be somewhat flattering.

Whether it be the settling of the lyrics on my mind, or the glowy look of devout pride on Colton’s face as his eyelashes batted, I was mesmerized and entirely untroubled with my life and where it was headed.

“Tell me any place you’d rather be right now, ‘n I’ll take you there.” His words warm like a purr, almost choking back what seemed like a break in his usually sure voice.

He would’ve taken me to the unexplored canyons of outer space had there been a way, if he knew it’s the place I wanted to be. I could’ve demanded a red-eye to some tropical, uncharted sands and we would have packed our bags in an instant. It was evident our happiness was united. My joy meant his joy, and his, mine.  

The memory passed as a fleeting ripple, that felt the full length of some movie I starred in once upon a time. He was holding my hand, and Tia spread the gap of the curtain to the openness of the clambering arena. There was a rough figure of 150 in attendance, but the hot exhales of their anticipating banter of whispers made the air smoggy and intense with the pressure to succeed. It was different than Colt’s fight, loud and rambunctious with fans backing both corners. Not many knew our names, much less truly cared about who availed the prize-less battle.

I began to feel embarrassed at the already abundant residue of jittering sweat pouring off me, but Colton’s whistle-ready lips blowing cools breaths over my neck dried the wetness. I planned my steps to appear assured, not to give away what eggshells really cracked under my heels, and held my head high only looking directly into the cage where my opponent lay in wait.

Amongst the clashing waves of a nervous mind however, I felt a certain whizzing of adrenaline coursing through my blood like wildfire. My fingers tingled as Colton locked his into mine for only a brief second before turning me over to the referee for inspection.

Dumbfounded, and too brain fried to sort through my expected response, Colt tugged gently on the hem of my t-shirt pushing I remove it for my ringside checkup.

“This is it, baby. I need you all in right now, ‘ight.”

I nodded, cheesing as the official sought a view of my mouthpiece. After all limbs were scanned, and my face was oiled with Vaseline thick like bacon grease, he gave me the go-ahead signal to enter the ring when ready.

Tia only smiled, wordless with a thumb of luck, and Willow gave one more gripping massage over my very relax-craved muscles. She planted some thought of what I’m sure was very profound, and heroic encouragement into my ear, but her words couldn’t scream over the booms of heartbeats I heard instead.

I then spun quickly, seeking the guaranteed consolation in the stares of a beard- faced gentleman.

Colton brought his forehead to mine, squeezing my cheeks at the axis of each jaw and I waited. For a kiss, for a speech, for some enthusiastic dose of rigor. But he only stared. Stared and smiled, and nuzzled into my nose.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” He irrevocably declared, as if now was the appropriate time for small talk as such.

I supposed I needed more than that to boost me into a state of fierce fighting fury, but strangely enough his off the wall remark drove me straight into a tailspin of motivated focus. I could’ve wept with stresses as his driving kiss edged me closer, and closer towards the harsh rimmed steel of the cage. I held onto his hand like a fearful child mutely pleading objections, and Colton petted over my tightly tied hair to hush my senseless behavior.

My toes stuck to the stinging chill of the stairs as I climbed them one by one, my indisposed, shaking introduction with the inside of my first competition cage a resisting one. Surely, the very obvious reservations were giving my competition an even deeper confidence on a win.

I tried to mediate upon all those years on the court, eye-to-eye with the spearing glances of a rivaling opponent, and how I’d only laugh in the face of her weak defense inside the paint. Only then, there were no hazards of having my teeth busted loose.

I checked all angles of my surroundings, assuring I had Colton’s eyes in view, and Tia close-by as well. Purposely avoiding that first initial stare down with Katrina. She seemed stoic, and briefed on all grounds for combat with her feet planted firmly. Was she bigger? I couldn’t recall her fists being so sizeable and thick the first time we met merely days ago. Sweat chilled down the stretch of my back as whispers of the referee caught my ear.

“Let’s get the rules out there, and get this show on the road, shall we?” His understanding eyes spoke as softly as his voice.

The upper half of my body understood the message my brain sent to follow his path to the cage’s center, but my feet seemed to be practicing stubborn rebellion and I nearly fell on my face in efforts to take control.

One thing was certain. If I didn’t rally my every cell to the same page, this match would be over long before it began. I couldn’t have all this work end for naught. Never mind the unrelenting hours Colton and the rest of my locker-room support system had clocked.

Once I stood square with Bexley’s remarkably fixated, clear eyes, the starkness of reality walleyed me. I smiled, an uncomfortable quirk that I couldn’t quite squander as she reached forth to touch gloves. I had somehow managed to drift into a soundproof oblivion, missing the referees reiterating of the cage rules and etiquette.

My time had run out. There was no escape plane in motion, no flighty cop-outs in the waiting. It was only time to fight. Time to muster up whatever lame excuse of courage I thought I had, and do the damn thing. Whether it got me killed, or broken in any manner of the word, I had no choice but to step into these burrowed shoes of a fighter, and find out what I was made of.

“Stand tall, Liv baby. All or nothin’, right here.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[colitisandme]

‘I am sorry, I can’t hear you, my ears are too clogged with rage’ is now one of my favourite sayings.

I am not an angry person. I honestly don’t like anger as an emotion. Before my body decided to spend its days thinking of new ways to test my patience and fast depleting reserves, I thought anger was a wasted emotion. In fact anger, shouting, aggression and general finger pointing makes me feel very uneasy. I despise shouting and intimidation so much I have been known to stupidly hurtle down the road in my bare feet, brandishing my stiletto heals to try and ward off verbal attacks between a purple faced, swearing, irate aggressor and a terrified partner. I have screamed at a sobbing, cowering girl to stay in her car and thrown said shoes at a guy, yelling ‘get the hell away from her!’ followed by hollering ‘you’d better run!’ at the top of my lungs whilst simultaneously trying to call the police at the same time. Stupid yes. What the hell would I have done if he had turned to me and said ‘ no don’t think I will’ ... cry and probably wet myself .. Hoping my catawauling and urine stained trousers would be a strong enough deterrent to stop him coming anywhere near me. But despite the probability of waking up my neighbours with my bat shit crazy screaming and as a result not being invited to the communal bbq due to them thinking I was mad, I could not have stood there put my fingers in my ears, shut my eyes and done nothing. I just couldn’t do that. so it was a stupid risk I was willing to take.

There have been many times in my life When I was perfectly entitled to be angry. There have been many occasions when I would have completely been within my Jess rights to have turned rage coloured purple, swore, stomped my paws, gnashed my teeth, yelled and howled at the moon like some kind of snarling werewolf, gnawing at myself like I was a tenderised pork chop. But I didn’t. I just accepted the situations and swallowed my anger, until unbeknown to me I had swallowed a whole nasty twisted, yarn sized ball of red, malton, lava rage which was just bubbling away inside my body and soul getting bigger by the day. And slowly without my knowledge, I was being turned into a pressure cooker. Ready to explode. That’s what happens when you don’t process trauma. You turn into a walking volcano; dormant but you still wouldn’t want to spend your holidays there in case it went off and the end result would turn you into a human s’more.

Chronic illness and extreme all over body pain certainly has a direct way of really making me adjust my usual Kum by ya, harmonious, zen filled, placid happy care free attitude. Waiting for 16 weeks to see a bloody rheumatologist really does test my sunny nature. Listening to rediculous conversations about how unfair it is that snuffles have floored someone for 3 COCKING DAYS makes me want to gnaw my own hand off in a rage, filled pneumatic chomping episode. In fact here is a short list of things, I have lovingly compiled, which make me cocking furious ... NHS waiting times, the Conservative party, selfishness, unkindness, thoughtlessness, people who don’t know how good they have it. Violence, homophobia, rudeness, the price of gluten free deserts, the fact that as soon as you add dairy free and gluten free together, food tastes like bloody cardboard. You would think with all the 1000’s of people with allergies, they would make more things like don’t taste and have the texture of gravel. Alarm clocks, people who hog toilets- I NEED THEM NOW. People who hate bobble hats - quite frankly if you do I hope you get eaten by dinosaurs. PIP - May you all be turned into bum boils. Flights of stairs, wading through the leaf filled, mud filled path along the main road which I have to drag my case and myself along to get to work. JUST BECAUSE THE COUNCIL DONT WANT TO BUILD A COCKING PATH TO WALK DOWN. ...I AM NOT A BLOODY HEDGE DWELLING ANIMAL, WHO ENJOYS SPENDING MY DAYS ROLLING ABOUT IN LEAVES. Clearly the arsehats in the council must express great delight and cackle with glee, watching me cry and gnash my teeth as I wade through a million sodding leaves to try and get to my bus... swearing and looking like a cross between a walking leaf collage and Stig of the dump as I get into work... Very professional and not at all like a child’s art project... Animal cruelty, child cruelty, people cruelty, bigotry, hateful wankers, clowns, (there’s no need for them) self - entitled aresholes, (no need for them either) losing things, and generally the poor, sorry state of the world at the moment. In fact all of these things make me absolutely and honestly incandescent with rage.

And whereas before every item on that list would have made me cross. I now am very open with the fact I get angry about them. Before I would be frightened to express how I felt about certain moments, certain situations and trauma due to fall out. But now after getting ill, I have allowed myself to be much more open in the way I feel. Not in a rude way but in a way where I finally know I deserve better than being thrown emotional scraps in an attempt to keep me docile and placid. After the trauma, I would then work my butt off to be a better human in order to diffuse the situation, as I believed it was my fault which led to more internal anger towards myself. This in built, all consuming, conscious un-human effort and desire to keep my anger hidden about injustices and trauma faced throughout my life has partly contributed to how lousy I am feeling now. I am now absolutely sure that the anger I have submerged, suppressed and cajoled to stay hidden, has wrapped itself around my muscles, joints, bowels, limbs, throat and hands like thick, spiny, vines trying to drown and suffocate me. When I first went to see my homeopath I told her I felt like I couldn’t breathe or speak and like I was a corked bottle who couldn’t express what I felt due to fear and the incorrect view that I deserved it. But it’s interesting because I am and have always been so verbally expressive. I have a theatre background for gods sake and could readily take on any character and perform it. I wrote, I sang and yet when it came to the simple task of telling someone they hurt me or when I tried to express my feelings as myself and not as a character, the time came and I couldn’t do it. I was standing in the spotlight and I was mute.

I am not now. I have finally found my voice. I know that the vast majority of traumas in my life were not my fault. I am now no longer scared to ask for help, for support, for understanding, for time because I know I deserve and need it. Especially now, especially because my body behaves like an unco- operative toddler refusing to do anything I ask it to do. I am not angry that I am ill. There would be no point in taking my rage out on a situation I cannot control. I am however angry about the things which make mine and others situations worse, because there’s no sodding need to make our lives more difficult. Lack of services, extortionate waiting times, an NHS bursting at the seems with no funding, no staff and no resources to change the situation. I am angry there isn’t more knowledge and research about our diseases. I am hopping mad there isn’t more understanding or support from our communities... I am furious about the injustices we go through, but mostly I am filled with hulk like rage that we are made to feel as invisible as our illnesses and disease are. I am not the kind of person to shout, yell or intimidate. I will not dominate using hateful language or aggression, but I can and will use my words and my Jess ness to try and make a difference, even if it’s in a small way. Becauase I have learnt it’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to stamp feet, to cry and chew the carpet with the utter unfairness of it all. It’s okay to gnash your teeth and howl at the moon when you are in pain, or tell someone when they have let you down. It’s human and it’s healthy. If you feel angry please release it in a healthy way. I am not advising to go on a monster, smashing table, hurling puppies out of the way, yelling at babies, rampage, but at the same time please don’t swallow it and remain mute. Even if that moment makes you come up with a 109 creative new swear words, say them in private, under your breath if necessary, but say them. And if you need to feel angry about past situations do it now before the feeling eats away at you until it manefests somewhere else or as something else. We are what we feel. Good, bad, angry, calm, hurt, victim, survivor ... so once we start to fix our soul we start to fix our whole. 😊 So be angry if you need to be, but most importantly be honest with how you feel, and if someone makes you angry or has hurt you or let you down never be afraid to tell them so, because if we bottle it all up, it’s us who really suffers in the end.