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whatiwillsay · 4 years ago

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submission: we need to talk about ttb (spade-riddles)

Hey Cam. Seeing that ask defending TTB’s doxxing has sort of pushed me to finally share some of my story on Tumblr, I guess. I haven’t had the opportunity to talk about this to anyone fully, so this will probably be long, but I hope you don’t mind me venting.

I’m one of the people that got emailed by TTB. I don’t feel comfortable posting this off anon, but I was in a Discord server with you and @bisluthq and some other people back in Dec/Jan. I don’t know if you remember me, but my name on there was one word and began with an L and ended with an S.

I want to share the full story, but I also don’t feel comfortable with sharing certain details publicly because I’m still very wary of getting outed further by her if she sees this, so I’m gonna be vague about some things

Request to her followers — If you see this, please don’t send this to her. Like I’m genuinely asking you not to because I don’t trust her not to cross any more lines. My dad is a major homophobe with serious anger issues who has literally been arrested for violence before, and she doesn’t really think carefully or maybe even care about how any actions she takes could lead to people being harmed, so I’m not eager to see how she might react.

Anyway, I first got an email back in December, and I was really freaked out by it at first. I spoke to one of my mutuals about it, and although we both agreed it was super weird and invasive and creepy, we ended up trying to see the funny side of it. So, I kinda just brushed it off and moved on. I was mainly just really confused about why I had been targeted because at the time, I thought it was only me who’d gotten an email like that. I didn’t understand why she’d specifically targeted me instead of other people who she clearly disliked a lot more.

About a week later, I saw someone on Tumblr mentioning a strange email, and I realised other people must have gotten them too. I spoke to Nat about what happened to me and ended up in the Discord

At the time, I felt like I’d gotten off really easy comparatively to others because I initially didn’t realise that she’d contacted anyone else. And so I tried to act chill about it because I didn’t want to make things about me, but honestly, I was extremely anxious. I felt on edge for over a week. I would keep checking her blog again and again because I was super worried that she would post our personal details publicly. I scrolled through my entire blog from start to finish and deleted a lot of posts that were either personal or that I just didn’t want anyone I knew in real life to read.

This part I have to be vague about because it would basically give away who I am, but it was only a while later when I thought I was in the clear that someone I knew in real life texted me and mentioned seeing a weird email about me. The email had been sent a while back, and they’d been shown it by the original recipient/s. Multiple people had been shown it, but luckily (kinda), only two of those people were actually people I saw on a regular basis

I’m mostly closeted, but I’m kind of technically out to a few of my immediate family members. But it’s very much a DADT situation because they’re not accepting, and they like to just pretend I’m straight. And so I basically have to act closeted even when I’m around them, and I can’t even ALLUDE to being gay.

But with my dad, it’s different. He’s very homophobic. I’m only gonna mention this next part so that people understand what kind of dangerous situation that TTB could have put me in. (And the other people that she doxxed too because she didn’t know how safe their individual situations were). It’s all really personal, and I wouldn’t ordinarily feel comfortable sharing any of this at all, even anonymously, but I think it needs to be said because her actions were extremely fucking irresponsible.

Right, so when I first “came out” to my dad, it was actually an accident, and he reacted… extremely badly. This was back in like… 2018 or 2019, I can’t remember the exact year

(TW // physical abuse, homophobia)

He was extremely angry, literally shaking. He yelled at me, he described in graphic detail how he was going to “break every bone in my body”, “strangle the life out of me”, “drown me”, etc. He kept telling me that I’m disgusting and going to Hell, you get the idea. He was having a lot of fun with making strangling motions and stabbing motions with his hands, and he kept slamming his hand onto the table. That went on for about 15 minutes, and then he stood up and threw a chair from the dining table at me. That was fun lol. And he punched me in the head pretty hard which kinda knocked me back. I felt dizzy, I had to sit down on the floor. At that point, my mum who had been crying and asking him to stop physically intervened, and he ended up storming out of the house instead. My mum’s a genuinely good person btw. She’s a little homophobic, but she cares about me a lot, and I’m very grateful for her. She hates him too, but she’s kinda stuck with him… It wasn’t her fault

He literally hates gay people. He complains about us on the regular. One time, he threw the remote at the TV and cracked the screen just because there was a gay male couple kissing onscreen. Another time, he threw a rock at a gay man on the street. There was also a time where he forced a few of my siblings (who didn’t want to do it) to throw peeled oranges out of the window at people celebrating pride while he drove past them and yelled insults at them. He found that really funny. Anyway, I’m sure you guys get the idea of what kind of person he is

He hasn’t laid a hand on anybody in several months though, so I do think he’s trying to be better at least. Like he’s still verbally abusive and controlling and awful, but I appreciate that he’s at least making an effort to calm down with the hitting and kicking and stuff

Anyway, with my dad, it’s less DADT and more that I think he’s got it in his head that he managed to scare me into “seeing the error of my ways” and that I’ve “stopped choosing to be gay” and that I’m now straight. So, if it had been HIM who had gotten that email, it would’ve been like… extremely bad. Like I’m getting anxious just thinking about it. And this is why I’m so angry at TTB. It was extremely, extremely irresponsible of her to not consider these kinds of possibilities before she sent out her stupid emails. She’s supposed to be an ally, but it didn’t even cross her mind that these emails would lead to people being outed and possibly even harmed?? It’s not okay at all. I’m just very grateful that she didn’t send one to him because I don’t even know what kind of situation I would be in right now.

Anyway, enough about my fucking awful dad… I feel uncomfortable that I even typed all of that out, but I wanted people to understand how dangerous her actions could have been. Like I mean, my dad’s got PTSD and extreme anger issues from his teenage years, so I do try not to judge him TOO harshly, but there’s no excuse for being a huge bigot or occasionally violent. The idea of him being the one who got that email is still so scary to me. Like my heart is racing just thinking about it

One of the people that DID read the email was the male friend I mentioned earlier though. He was shown it by someone else for a particular reason, and he was a very important person to me. Like he was a good guy, we were close, he helped me out with certain personal issues I have and is one of only two people that I know in real life that I felt comfortable confiding in about them. We’d always meet up once a week, sometimes twice, and we’d just talk about stuff and make an effort to help each other out with things. Like he was very important to me.

It turns out that he’d looked through my blog before I’d got around to scrubbing it, and he asked me if I was gay in person the next time we met up. I couldn’t lie because like… he’d have known I was lying right to his face. So, I told him I was, and you should have seen his face. It made me feel so awful about myself. He looked really stunned and shocked and kinda uncomfortable. Like it got so awkward, and I started rambling and making things worse. He was avoiding eye contact, and my voice was shaking.

I ended up making up an excuse to leave about 5 mins later and had an actual anxiety attack. Again, this is embarrassing and something I’d never usually talk about online, but I just want to get it all off my chest so that I can move past it all.

So, I was like on the verge of tears (I don’t cry easily), I couldn’t breathe properly, I was pacing around the building, and I just wanted to escape, so I headed straight for the doors. There was a queue of about 100 people lined up and waiting to leave, and I couldn’t think straight or breathe and just needed to be outside, so I tried to go out through the other exit which is for staff only. The security guard stopped me and basically publicly humiliated me in front of all of those people. He loudly shamed me and said I “didn’t have any decency” for attempted to jump the queue, lectured me in this really condescending tone, and then sent me right to the back of that huge line. Meanwhile, I was literally in the midst of a bad anxiety attack.

And then I eventually got outside and had to call my mum to come and pick me up instead of just making my own way home like I usually do. She’s amazing though tbh because she actually came to get me and didn’t even question why. I had to skip all of my plans for the rest of the day and instead just hid upstairs in my bedroom with the lights off until the next day. I refused to tell any of my family members what had happened even though they kept asking. I just felt so, so awful, and my anxiety was through the roof

To be honest, before that happened, my mindset was like: “I mean, if I get outed, it obviously wouldn’t be good, but I think I’d be able to deal with it fine”. But then, when it actually happened, and I saw the way my close friend reacted, I had like a whole emotional breakdown lol. It’s like, you think you’d be fairly chill in a situation, but when it actually happens, your reaction can be really unpredictable. I was so embarrassed by everything about that entire incident. I didn’t even want to show my face the next day.

It’s been almost two months since that happened, and in that entire time, my friend has contacted me once. We literally used to meet up once or twice a week (and during lockdown, we’d do video calls or phone calls instead), but since then, we’ve barely even spoken. Things are just so awkward now. I know this sounds stupid, but I feel like TTB’s taken one of my best friends away from me. I don’t think he’s a homophobe or anything, he has openly gay friends and is fairly accepting, but I think it’s just the way that he found out that has just made things so weird between us now. I feel like if I’d had the chance to come out to him myself in my own way, he wouldn’t have reacted like that. But I’m gonna text him next week and see if we can maybe try to fix our friendship, but I doubt it at this point

The other people who were shown the email, I mostly just avoid. I don’t really care about them knowing that much because I wasn’t close to them, but it’s just really embarrassing knowing that they probably scrolled through my Tumblr blog before I scrubbed it

And about Tumblr… This used to be the only place that I could fully be myself. It was like a “safe space” for me which feels ironic now. But I haven’t been active on my blog since December. I still lurk occasionally, but I just don’t feel comfortable here anymore. I did consider deleting my current blog and starting afresh with a new one, but I don’t think it’d make much of a difference… Like she’s kind of ruined Tumblr for me. I do still enjoy reading people’s blogs every now and then, but I don’t feel relaxed here anymore, I just feel on edge.

It’s mainly the fact that SHE’S still here. She still has a platform, she still has a bunch of followers. It’s been so hard seeing her face next to no consequences whatsoever for the horrible things that she’s done to so many different people. And it upsets me that she hasn’t even acknowledged that what she did was wrong. Plus, it makes me feel even worse that the Hard Kay blogs and some other people are still supporting her and pretending that this whole thing just didn’t happen. Like do they just not care? Or is it that she’s twisted things and made them believe that the situation was different to what it actually was?

And tbh, this whole situation has even set me back in my own sort of personal self-acceptance journey. I had such bad internalised homophobia when I was younger, and it took me so many years to get to a place where I had mostly accepted myself. But now I just feel ashamed again, and I’ve gone back to my old habit of trying to force myself to be attracted to men. Like I downloaded Tinder the other day and set my preference to men and was swiping through profiles. It’s kinda silly actually. I did snap out of it and delete the app the next day though. But I don’t know, I feel like this whole thing has just kinda fucked with me a bit. I am trying to work this stuff out and get back to normal though. I think I’ll be good again in maybe a month or so, hopefully.

And… yeah. I just really resent her, and this situation upsets me. Because the reason she did this was so petty and ridiculous, and I guess she didn’t even realise how much it would impact people? Like I do know that my situation wasn’t as bad as some of the other people’s situations, and I feel really bad for them, and I hope they’re all doing okay. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for them. But it still has impacted me a lot more than I actually thought it would. I thought I’d get over it within a couple of weeks. But it’s been like two months, and I’m still not completely over it

I know it might not sound like a huge thing, but being outed really does affect you, even if it’s only to a few people. Because to me, I feel like I’ve had my sense of like, security and comfort taken away, and it’s kinda distressing. Sorry if I sound dramatic with any of this, I just really needed to say all of this stuff to other people besides myself lol

Like her actions have literally led to me being outed to a few people. A close friendship that I had has basically been ruined. I don’t feel comfortable or secure on Tumblr anymore, even though it used to be an important outlet for me. I’ve had a resurgence of anxiety about my sexuality. Etc.

And again, my dad is extremely homophobic and literally made death threats to me and physically attacked me back when I accidentally came out to him in 2018 or 2019. And if he had gotten that email, I don’t even know what would have happened. I don’t think he would have like… SERIOUSLY physically harmed me, but there would definitely have been a repeat of the first incident. More throwing chairs at me and hitting and screaming and death threats. I don’t really want to think about it.

It just bothers me that she didn’t even consider that? Like did it not even cross her mind? And my dad is bad, but I’m sure there are people in the fandom who have even worse parents, and she could have got one of those people instead. It’s just so… I don’t know, it’s just so frustrating to me.

Anyway, I just hate her for what she did… Like maybe I shouldn’t, but I really do resent her so much, and I don’t think I could forgive her even if she apologised to us all (which I don’t think she even would because she doesn’t seem to have any decency whatsoever). The least she could do is at least express some kind of remorse, but she just genuinely doesn’t care, and that’s super messed up. All over some stupid Tumblr blog that is much less important than she thinks it is.

But anyway… I apologise for the whole rant, and if anybody read all the way down to here, I appreciate it. I do actually feel a bit better now that I’ve got this all typed out. And I’m sorry for the oversharing lol, I usually don’t do this, but I just felt like I really needed to tell people and get it off my chest so that I can try to get over it — L

submisssion⬆️⬆️⬆️

ok L i am trying to remain calm here because this isn’t about me. but i am very emotional right now. i am so so so infinitely sorry that you had to go through this harrowing and terrifying experience. ttb (now blogging under spade-riddles) is absolutely disgusting, lower than dirt, that she would put your life, safety, and well-being at risk over a fucking kaylor blog.

please please please im me or get in touch somehow because i want to offer you support. have you been financially impacted by this? we can raise money. do you need therapy? we can help you find the support you need. this community is unequivocally here for you. whatever you need, if it’s in my power to help you get it, i will. you have my solemn promise on that.

i am so deeply and desperately sorry that you have gone through this. i was shaking while reading your story.

i am in touch with other people and we are in discussion about the best way to let tumblr know what happened. this will be a safe space for you (and all of us) again if it’s the last thing i do. this community is 100% here for you in any way we can help, sending you all the support and love we have.

#submission #tw: abuse #tw: homophobia

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ka-writes · 3 years ago

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Notes: I was at camp. Sorry for posting late... in return I gift a long chapter!

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In Case you missed it:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warning: Characters being trapped, mentions of IVs, Cussing, yelling, characters being restrained, nightmares, mentions of murder, a guy being arrested.

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“Humans are [add text here]”

Chapter 3: A Wild Crow Father has Appeared

Phil wasn’t expecting to be returning to Planet A112 so soon but Wilbur had sent a distress signal and that was the Dream Team Craft’s next stop.

The planet itself stood as a port market place. There were many of these planets around the galaxy, but it was probably the more popular ones for criminal ships and such. Poachers and Scientists alike came here to get supplies to take the biggest beasts in the galaxy, Humans.

Phil never understood the appeal, but both of his sons had gained that sort of adventurous aspect that he had lost so many celestial years ago. He assumed the only reason people ever chased the creatures was to fill their pride.

That was the exact reason Techno had joined the poacher ship three years ago. He only returned when it had crashed three months ago. To this day he has yet to reveal what horrors had gone on the ship.

Wilbur had another reason to go after the infamous creatures. His crave for knowledge was eating him up as was for most scientists. He joined the Dream Team Craft only six months ago and was already heading back to the SBI Craft.

Techno was pacing around the marketplace studying different weapons and supplies. Phil had been standing off to the side, leaning on one of the building walls. Every once and a while he would check his communicator to see where Wilbur was. Thankfully he had turned on his location so Phil could easily watch as he made his way through the maze-like market.

“Is he getting close?” Techno asked running low on patience.

“He’ll be here in two minutes or so.” Phil bit his lip, “You can head back to the ship, I don’t mind waiting for him.”

“I am not leaving you. Prime knows what Wilbur brought back this time.” Techno replied. Wilbur always had a knack for bringing back things he found interesting. This wasn’t the first time he had left the SBI Craft. This would be the 37th since he turned 14. Now he was 24 and the Craft had been designed to handle whatever he brought back. There was a holding room fit for literally any species, a mechanics room full of technology he gained an interest in. A garden and a gardener which was also retrieved by Wilbur. And of course Wilbur’s pride and joy, the laboratory.

“If you want mate..” Phil said, shaking his head.

Not even two minutes later he saw Wilbur coming from the middle of the crowd. He was carrying what looked like a hurt child.

“Well this should be interesting.” Techno mumbled as he spotted Wilbur.

Once the phantom saw them he strode over and they made their way over to him.

“What do you have this time mate?” Phil asked, curiosity filling him to the brim with questions.

“Someone I can’t explain till we get to the ship.” Wilbur states with a tone he had never heard from his son.

After a second of standing awkwardly they had come to a silent agreement to head to the ship.

It took less than five minutes. Wilbur was half sprinting to the lab before Techno’s assistant had even registered that Wilbur was back. Phil gave a quick greeting to the gardener and assistant before following Wilbur to the medical part of the lab. He almost fainted when he saw what was laying on the medical bed.

“I know it looks bad, but I couldn’t help myself.” Wilbur said apologetically, “I know you’re gonna want answers but I really don’t have a lot of time before serious damage is done to him. I’ll explain after I fix him up.” He glanced up with a face full of sincerity.

Phil sighed pushing aside any fatigue and collecting his thoughts. “How can I help?” He states without an ounce of shown-fear in his voice.

Wilbur took a moment before answering. Prime the silence was loud. “Keep everyone out of the lab, and set up another room.. that would be great.” Wilbur said. The worry in his voice was apparent, but Phil said nothing of it. Instead he started on the tasks that came with being the captain of the craft.

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He woke up to LED lights blinding him. Tommy blinked a bit before sitting up.

He was sitting on what appeared to be a hospital bed. An IV was attached to his wrist and there were strange alien restraints attached to his legs but not to his wrists. That would be a mistake if he knew how to take the sticky black cuffs off. Which he didn’t. Plus he was too weak to attempt.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and looked around. The bed was pushed into the back corner directly across from a window. There was no glass or plastic covering the window, only a shiny force-field looking thing. The window also was the length of the wall. To the right of the window was a little slot and shelf, clearly used to deliver food. To the left of the window was a place for a door. The only thing was there was no visible door, just more of the light blue painted wall. To the left of the space was a bunch of shelves with a bunch of weird toys, games, books, and puzzles. Across from that was a card table and two comfortable chairs. At the end of the bed was a bench looking thing in which the lid lifted up.

All in all the room was clearly used to keep people occupied while keeping a close eye on them. The inhabitants of the ship had prepared it so it could withstand most things. The furniture in the room had been nailed to the floor. The chairs could move either closer or farther from the table with whoever was sitting down using a strange contraption. None of the toys on the lower shelf could be eaten and all games and puzzles were on higher shelves. The books were also all hard covered. There were even plastic bookmarks in a small container next to the shelves. The window was clearly impossible to get through and looked like it would absorb whatever you threw at it. The food shelf had three mechanisms that wouldn’t be easy to get through. There were no vents or places to hide. It was very apparent they had done this sort of thing before.

The last thing Tommy looked for was a light switch. By some sort of luck he spotted it. It was a weird sort of dial thing that was right by the IV stand. It was currently at 100 and he then dialed it down to 35. It was dim enough to sleep but bright enough to see everything clearly. Not even five minutes later he fell into a deep sleep.

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“YOU BROUGHT A HUMAN?!” Tubbo yelled, fluttering his wings furiously, making him hover ever so slightly.

Ranboo swiftly put his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder pushing him back onto the ground. The enderian shifted anxiously making Techno ponder if he was also gripping Tubbo to keep himself grounded. Phil stood near Will expectantly. Wilbur shifted from foot to foot and rubbed his arm, yet kept his head up to look at everyone. Techno was leaning against his security desk, side eyeing the now asleep human.

“I knew you were stupid, I just didn’t know you were this stupid.” Techno stated without a hint of remorse. Wilbur scoffed before attempting to collect himself.

“I couldn’t just leave him there! It was a mission built for researching humans. Meaning they would be doing nasty experiments for prime knows how long!” Wilbur snapped, with a seriousness Techno hadn’t seen since Wilbur brought back the other children on the ship, “He is a kid. Not an adult that had nowhere to go and was doing prime awful things. He is a kid with no family, no home, and barely making it through the day. I read through his file and he has gone through awful shit. I wasn’t gonna let him die in misery too. If you don’t want him on the ship, then I will get myself my own ship.” Wilbur threatened with a tone not to be questioned. Techno took a moment to think through Will’s response before coming up with an answer.

“He can stay. As long as you keep him in line and take care of his rations. He is not to leave his room until we make sure he can do no damage. If anyone wants to visit him, you are either outside the window or I am present. No excuses.” Techno finished satisfied with his answer. Phil may have been the legal captain of the ship, but when it came to rules Techno was always the one to make them.

Phil nodded in agreement. The two children nodded aggressively, both of which clearly had no intention of going near the human’s holding cell. After a minute Wilbur nodded.

“Fine. If those are the rules I will comply.” Wilbur said, “I need to adjust some things, I will assume Techno will be coming with me?” He asked reluctantly.

“Yes.” Techno bluntly said.

“So be it.” Wilbur snapped. Techno just brushed it off as they headed towards the lab cells.

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Tommy was running through the forest on the edge of town.

It was his favorite trail and the only one his parents let him go on alone. Which cost a long series of promises and supplies he had to go with.

Usually he would be running on the trail for fun but this time it was a sprint home. He didn’t know what was wrong but he knew something was wrong. Especially when he saw the blue and red lights light up the evening sky.

“I didn’t do anything you bastards!!” His dad yelled over the sirens. They had him in cuffs repeating the Miranda rights to him as they pushed him into the back seat.

“What’s going on?” All Tommy could manage his throat was tight and he was struggling to hold back angry tears. He caught one of the officers' attention. She smiled softly.

“He got caught doing something bad to his wife.” She said sadly.

“What did he do?!” Tommy cried even louder this time tears slipped down his face. At this point the officer got more serious.

“I am not obligated to say.” She bit her lip before continuing, “Why don’t you go back to your parents?” She replied softly. This was the first time Tommy got angry, not annoyed or that childish angry. The kind of anger that makes you wanna burn the world down. It was a quick flash but enough to make him snap.

“You took my dad…. What did he do to my mom?” Tommy answered coldly. His answer clearly shook the officer.

“Aw kid, I- .. I am sorry.. he killed her.” Tommy already knew the answer. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. He heard someone scream from far away. Maybe it was him, maybe someone else. They pushed him through a series of questions all of which he could barely answer. His mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t calm down. Everything was too much.

He woke up in a cold sweat. Tears were running down his face. His breath was rapid and uneven. He hadn’t had a dream like that for a couple of months, granted he barely slept. After a few shaky breaths he calmed himself enough to grasp where he was. He wiped the tears just in time for the spot where the door was to open.

In stepped Wilbur along with a really tall alien. The tall alien stood in front of the door as Wilbur rushed to Tommy’s bed. Tommy lost control of his breathing, barely calming down.

Wilbur grabbed his hands to which Tommy snapped his head towards the alien. “I want you to breathe with me okay?” Wilbur said softly. He moved Tommy’s hand to his chest and started taking deep breaths. After a minute Tommy managed to even his breath to Wilbur’s pattern. “Good, good. I am gonna take off your IV since you don’t need it anymore. After that I can get you some food and water, then we can talk alright?” Wilbur said, keeping his tone soft and slow. Tommy rubbed his eyes and nodded.

Wilbur took his arm, there was a small pinch then the IV was off. Wilbur quickly left and came back after about two minutes. Within those two minutes Tommy got a better look at the other alien.

The alien had light pink ruff skin with neat pink hair tightly braided. They were wearing a puffy cream shirt that was tucked into dark brown pants, which were tucked into black boots that went up to their knees. Their knees bent backwards and the boots were shaped weirdly, like they were built for hooves. They had hooves where their hands would be, that somehow had thumbs. They also had tusks poking out of their mouth. Along with blood red eyes that had white pupils. Their ears poked out of their hair and were both torn and pierced with gold earrings. They also had a gold chain necklace with a stone that resembled an Emerald. They also wore a black belt with a gold clip. Attached to the belt was an alien sword leaning against their right hip, on the other side was what resembled a gun.

Tommy swallowed down food that was threatening to come up. He waited patiently for Wilbur to come back, trying his hardest not to stare at the other alien.

“My name is Techno. He/him. Same with Wilbur and most of the crew. The only one who has other pronouns is Ranboo who goes by he/they.” Techno, stated bluntly. Tommy collected himself before responding.

“I am Tommy Innit, er- he/him.” Tommy finished with a shaky voice.

Luckily the awkward tension didn’t last long as Wilbur practically sprinted through the door, shoving Techno out of the way. He pulled a tray that was neatly folded out of the wall and put a glass of water and some food on a plate.

“Some parskey with hatatoes. It tastes good I promise.” Wilbur explained. He then went to grab something he left outside and sat at the card table. He put two plates down and Techno joined him. The door closed after that. There was no button or anything, it just closed. Tommy was a little baffled by it but looked towards the food put in front of him.

It was a white meat, similar to chicken, with a brown version of mashed potatoes. He looked over to the other two who were talking in a different language while eating the same food. With that Tommy decided it was okay to eat. Just like what it reminded him of, it tasted like chicken and mash potatoes with small differences. Like the meat was dryer and more salty and the potatoes were a little sour. Either way it was still good. He then drank the water. There was no odd taste this time so he assumed it wasn’t drugged.

Once he finished he attempted to listen in but was only met with a series of strange sounds. He gave up and pushed the tray away. Almost too quickly he fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t even notice when the visitors took their stuff and left.

——————

Ranboo poked at his food glancing up every once and awhile. The two crew members had returned from the human’s room and decided to finish their food with the rest of the crew. Everyone sat in a tense silence.

“So,” Phil clapped his feathered hands and turned towards Wilbur. “What do we know about the kid?” He asked.

“His name is Tommy Innit, pronouns he/him. He is 14 and was living on the run for six months. No family according to him and he’s allergic to nuts.” Wilbur answered.

“From what I can tell he isn’t super dangerous, just fearful. He already trusts Wilbur, somehow. Though I think it is due to Wilbur saving his life. It will be harder for the rest of us to gain his trust.” Techno added. Ranboo swiftly wrote the responses down, making sure to keep major notes.

The rest of dinner was uneventful and everyone awkwardly washed dishes and went to bed. Assumingly to sleep. Everyone except Ranboo that is. He couldn’t wash dishes due to his biology and he didn’t really sleep. Every time he tried the void would wake him up or he would go into a half-conscious state that the crew deemed as enderwalking.

So for what felt like the hundredth time they stayed awake laying in bed. This time however their mind was racing with thoughts. Traveling through situations that used to seem impossible before the human boarded the ship. Still curiosity was eating their insides.

With a half made up mind Ranboo shot up in bed. They stalked over to where the human was being held and peered into the window.

Almost instantly the human sat up. After yawning and getting into a position he was comfortable in he just stared at Ranboo making them incredibly uncomfortable.

“Who are you?” The human asked, Ranboo couldn’t remember his name.

“Oh! Uh, I am Ranboo.. I am kinda like an assistant, I-I guess.” Ranboo said, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Ah cool. I am the biggest man! Tommy Innit. You should be grateful to be in my presence.” The human practically flowed with confidence making Ranboo question if all humans were like this. He shook off the questions and turned back to the human who was now playing with the light monitor.

“So… what was your planet like?” Tommy asked, startling Ranboo a bit. “I-I mean you don’t have to answer of course.. just wondering..” the human stuttered. They took a moment to go through their thoughts, narrowing down what they could.

“I guess it was peaceful.. in a way.. no one really fell out of line. It was unified, creating a peaceful haven. It wasn’t like people couldn’t fall out of line it’s just they didn’t want to. M-most of them were content with the way they were… but if there was something wrong they would absolutely take any measure to destroy it.” Ranboo finished bitterly, trying to shake off his old hurt of how they treated him. “W-what about your planet?” Ranboo asked.

“Ah.. Earth is interesting to say the least… We don’t all follow the same rules. And there is a lot of falling out of line… But I guess that’s what gave it a certain charm and a certain aspect that made it brutal.” Tommy finished his serious tone melting in an instant, “But that’s there not here! I wanna know what everything is like.” He said looking at Ranboo with curiosity.

That’s how Ranboo created a bond with the strange blond creature. They bounced from topic to topic mainly ending with one of them going into a deep explanation of one thing or another. They talked until both of them ended up passing out sitting next to the window.

——————

Chapter 3- End

Words- 3,212

——————

Techno- “Don’t go near the human without my presence.”

Ranboo- ._.

Ranboo- Ima do it... >:p

——————

(That was a bad one but oh well..)

——————

End Notes: I got carried away a bit... I have a few more filler chapters before we start actually getting into the plot.. also after this should I start a super hero AU?

Ignore minor mistakes... I did reread through it this time so there shouldn’t be too many...

As always likes are nice but reblogs are better! Please share this with people of you enjoyed, I hope you did!

Go get some water, sleep, eat food, and stay safe!! Love y’all <3

——————

Chapter 4:

#dream smp fanfiction #tommy mcyt #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #philza #techno #sbi au #alien au #my fanfic tag #my writing #reblog

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doyelikehaggis · 4 years ago

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Oh my gosh think about Lizzie being sad around the school post ep and bumping into Kaleb and they bond and he cheers her up

Hi!! I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get to this. For context, this was about episode 6! (I think...) BUT I WROTE A THING FOR IT!! I'll put it below a "read more"! Thank you for this idea, anon, I love it so much!! (I'm actually tempted to write a little more for it...) 🧡

Lizzie lets the smile slide from her face only when she hears MG close his door behind her. Each step away feels heavier and heavier, and she has no idea where she’s even going. Back to her room seems to be the only option she has left now, but she also really doesn’t want to be reminded that Josie has left her by seeing her side of the room with all of her stuff.

MG doesn’t want to spend time with her. She can’t exactly blame him; did she really just expect him to be sitting there waiting for her to finally be ready for him? Of course he said no. And Hope has a new friend. One who actually makes her smile and laugh. Lizzie honestly doesn’t think she’s ever seen her so happy before.

She takes the stairs instead, walking into the kitchen. After all, she never got her ice cream. She finds the two bowls surprisingly still there, the ice cream perfectly intact thanks to the freezing spell she placed over them. Maybe she had been hoping that MG would take her up on her offer for just a late-night talk and she could suggest ice cream, and it would be there waiting for them already.

Now she has two bowls and only one of her. With how she’s feeling, that’s probably better.

Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, she siphons the spell back off of one of the bowls and hops up on the counter. Then she digs in with a desolate sigh.

“I don’t know what’s more depressing,” a voice says from the doorway, and Lizzie looks over at Kaleb, standing there and eyeing her with pity, “the fact that you’re eating ice cream alone when there’s another bowl, or the fact that you’re doing it in the kitchen, in silence, at…” he checks his watch and raises his eyebrows, “... a quarter to midnight.”

Lizzie lowers her bowl into her lap with a shrug, swallows the lump of ice cream, and shrugs, saying bleakley, “Both. You just summed up my life, so.”

Kaleb’s eyebrows hike up higher and he sucks in air through his teeth. “Yeesh. That bad?”

He walks past her to get to the fridge, presumably for a late-night blood bag.

Lizzie scoffs and stabs her ice cream with her spoon. Then she sighs again and says, “No, it’s just… this school is a mess. We only just have enough students to even qualify as a school! We’re probably in god knows how much debt at this point, which, I kinda thought would be enough for my mom to come back and fix, you know? After all, she is headmistress, yet somehow she’s just fine letting my dad make mess after mess of this place, and—”

“And you miss Josie.”

Kaleb closes the fridge, blood-bag in hand. He sends Lizzie a small smile when she looks over at him, and she deflates, because…

“Yeah,” she breathes out as Kaleb joins her at the counter, but leans against it instead. “I really, really miss her. And I hate myself for it, because she’s probably so happy there, and this is what she wants, and she has spent years doing what I want, so… I should be able to support her on this. Shouldn’t I?”

Kaleb shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah, you should,” he says, but to her surprise he continues, “but it makes sense that you’re gonna miss her like crazy. You two have never been apart. Like… ever. So, yeah, it’s gonna suck that she’s not here, and you’re allowed to be sad about it. So long as you accept that she's gonna do it anyway."

Lizzie stares at him. She wants to be glaring — she probably would have if this was a year ago, and she’d probably throw some snarky remark at him to cover up the fact that he’s right and she’s in denial. But she can only mush her ice cream sadly because she’s not in denial anymore and nod, looking down at her lap.

“I just…” She forces out a chuckle, closing her eyes. “Ugh, and I’m doing it again!”

“Doing what?” Kaleb asks, his brow crumpling.

“Using people as my own therapists! I did it to MG for, like, two years, and now he’s pushing me away because of it. I did it to Josie our entire lives and she left. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why my dad prefers Hope over me, or why my mom won’t even return to the freaking country! And I’m still doing it to you! Oh my god.” She waves a hand at him. “You should go before I need to start paying you. Seriously, please.”

But Kaleb laughs. Not in a cruel, ridiculing way, but in a confused and slightly exasperated way. He doesn’t leave. Instead, he sets his blood bag down on the counter.

“You’re not using me,” he tells her. “Trust me, if I didn’t want to listen, I would’ve been out of here in a second.”

Lizzie just presses her lips together and gives a doubtful hum. It’s not fair that she keeps doing this. She just starts unloading without thinking, and people stick around because they feel bad for her.

“Hey, we all need to vent sometimes,” Kaleb says, adopting a gentler tone when he realizes she doesn’t believe him. He gives her leg a little nudge with his elbow. “I got rejected today, if it’s any consolation, so I could use some free therapy time, too.”

Lizzie can’t help looking back over at him at that, but does at least try and put up a fight against her surprise. She fails. “Really? You were rejected? I mean, I understand MG rejecting me, but who the hell rejected you? Oh god, don’t tell me you tried with Alyssa again, I have had enough of that witch.”

It’s Kaleb’s turn for surprise but he does nothing to try and hide it. “Hold up. Rewind. MG rejected you? MG? My boy, MG, who spent all last summer talkin’ about you?”

“No need to rub it in,” Lizzie says bitterly, but there’s a small smile twitching the corners of her lips. “But come on. Fair’s fair. I’ll only tell you about my embarrassing rejection if you tell me yours.”

“So, you’ll show me yours if I show you mine?” Kaleb teases, cracking a grin.

Lizzie rolls her eyes even as a laugh escapes her. She flicks her wrist; a drawer across the room opens and a spoon comes zooming out into her hand, the drawer closing back over.

“Grab a spoon and take a seat, Mr. Hawkins,” she says with mock-seriousness.

He laughs and shakes his head at her like she’s crazy — but in the good way. The kind of crazy that makes people smile so much they can’t stop until their face hurts. The kind of crazy that they want to be around because it’s fun and a little contagious and feels sorta like safety in a weird way. And the thought that he could feel any of that around her makes her feel a little less of the bad kind of crazy.

Accepting the spoon from her, Kaleb hops up one of the stools, his leg brushing hers every time he moves. She doesn’t mind, just pushes the second bowl of ice cream across the counter and siphons the freezing spell off of it.

“Go ahead,” she says, waving a hand at him, before digging back into her ice cream.

“Cleo,” Kaleb says.

Lizzie’s eyebrows raise and she hums around her mouthful of ice cream. She isn’t shocked. It was pretty obvious he had a thing for her the second he offered to try and get her to enroll at the school. And it was pretty obvious by the way she looked at him that her decision to stay was not going to be because of him.

“Maybe she just needs some time,” Lizzie suggests, shrugging. “After all, she only just got here. It’s gonna take some time to get used to this place. Maybe once she gets to know you?”

“Maybe,” Kaleb agrees, though he doesn’t sound too bothered.

Lizzie frowns. “Or not? Do you not like her?”

“Nah, of course I like her,” Kaleb says, rolling his eyes, mushing his ice cream. Lizzie notices that he’s doing that thing where you make it smoother by mixing it a bit, the same way she does. “I just… it’s like you said. I don’t really know her, so it’s not… that big of a deal? She’s cute, and she’s interesting, and I could definitely catch some real feelings if she was into it, too. But at the same time, I’d rather just… get to know her.”

Nodding, Lizzie shrugs again. “That’s not a bad thing.” She pauses, narrowing her eyes jokingly. “So, technically you didn’t really get rejected. I should be taking that ice cream back.”

Kaleb pulls his bowl away from her with a look of offence. “How dare you try and take away my ice cream privileges. I am heartbroken!”

Lizzie arches an eyebrow. She just smiles and doesn’t argue as Kaleb smiles back, finally eating some of the ice cream. As soon as he does, he stops, making a face.

“What — what is this?” he asks, a note of disgust in his voice. “Is this… peanut butter?”

“It’s Netflix & Chill’d!” Lizzie says. Then, when Kaleb just continues to stare in confusion, “Ben and Jerry’s? Peanut butter, pretzels, and brownie?”

Kaleb just tilts his head and she scoffs.

“Have you never had Ben and Jerry’s before?!” she asks in disbelief.

“Yeah! But it was, like… chocolate! You know, the one with the little chocolate fish? And, uh — the cookie dough one! You know, normal flavours. Good flavours.”

Wrinkling her nose, Lizzie says, “You qualify Phish Food as a good flavour?”

Now he’s staring at her like she’s the two-heads kind of crazy. It’s still not bad, she notes quietly, and warmly. It’s actually taking a lot of her self-control not to grin.

“It’s chocolate and marshmallow!” Kaleb says. “How can you hate that?!”

“How can you hate peanut butter, pretzels, and brownies?” she counters.

“Because that is way too salty!”

“Oh, sorry, would you like a little more iron with that?”

They both pause. And then Kaleb starts laughing, and it’s like the first domino has been gently pushed as Lizzie starts laughing, too. Arguing over superior ice cream flavours at midnight is definitely better than eating them alone.

Despite his complaints, Kaleb still loads his spoon with more ice cream and eats it as if giving it another go will change his opinion. Lizzie watches him curiously. His nose wrinkles again and she presses her lips together to hold back another laugh — a giggle — because seeing him trying to act like it tastes good is actually kind of adorable.

He swallows and shakes his head. “Mhm. Nope.”

“There’s cookie dough in the freezer,” Lizzie tells him, putting him out of his misery. “It was Jo’s favourite as well, she always made Dad buy in at least two tubs in case of emergencies.”

“An ice cream emergency?” Kaleb questions.

Lizzie gestures around them, then at her own bowl.

Kaleb nods. “Enough said.” He points at the second bowl as he gets up to move over to the freezer. “What about that?”

“Considering my day, two bowls seems fair,” Lizzie tells him.

She dumps the contents of the second one into her own as Kaleb gives another chuckle. He retrieves the tub of cookie dough ice cream from the freezer and returns. When he takes a spoonful of it, his nose doesn’t wrinkle, and he gives a contented sigh and smiles, nodding to himself.

“Now that,” he points his spoon at the tub, “that is good ice cream.”

“Honestly, you have no taste,” Lizzie jokes. “In anything except fashion. That, at least, I can respect.”

“I could say the same for you,” Kaleb quips. He glances up at her from beneath his eyelashes and maybe her heart gives a little flutter as a sly smile twists across his lips.

She narrows her eyes, hiding it. Except he can hear it. But that doesn’t matter, she tells herself, because it’s nothing anyway. Probably brain freeze getting to her. Just… in her chest, instead.

“Agree to disagree,” she says.

“Fine by me.” Kaleb then nods at her expectantly. “Right. Come on. Your turn.”

Catching on, Lizzie groans. “Oh no, I can’t. It’s humiliating!”

Even as she says it, she’s laughing again as Kaleb persists, trying to pull it out of her. In the end, it actually works, and she spills the whole nightmare to him. He listens. He laughs, of course, but only when she does, and he… doesn’t leave.

Lizzie finishes both bowls of ice cream and Kaleb gets through his entire tub, then finally gets around to his blood bag as they keep talking. It’s well past midnight — maybe even past one in the morning, she can’t be sure — but neither of them even thinks about leaving. After the day they’ve had — hell, the weeks they’ve had — this was exactly what they both needed.

#oh look a wild anonymoose #ask away earthlings!#legacies #legacies 3x06 #kizzie #kaleb hawkins #lizzie saltzman #lizzie x kaleb #kaleb x lizzie #fanfiction stuff

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queer-as-frikc · 4 years ago

Note

My coming out story is weird, it gets a lil transphobic so tw near the end tw long post too

So, pretty much throughout my time growing up through elementary school and half of middle school, i grew up in a white middle class area. I didnt know about the LGBTQ+ or anything other than what I saw, which was white people and an occasional poc. Eventually I had to move and I ended up in a super diverse area, and ended up becoming best friends with this person (they are ftm now so imma use the right pronouns but they were f when this story mostly takes place) he told me all about things I didnt know, specifically the LGBTQ+ community and that he was pan, and it was new information so just like any 13 year old learning new things, I questioned myself, I questioned if I could like the same sex or not or possibly more.

Sadly, drama happened between my best friend, his girlfriend and I, so thing got a little weird. But there was a time in winter, when he was off that relationship for more than a month and he said he'd like to date me, and I really thought about it before hand and said yeah, I couldnt tell you how happy I was to have this experience.

I told my mom that night, in a round about way cuz I was nervous, "Hey mom, what if I liked girls?" She told me she doesnt think that I do, because I always expressed feelings for guys, and when I tell her I didnt really understand what being gay was when I was younger, I didn't really know it was a possibility. She snapped at me and said, "Unless you are willing to kiss a girl and do the other stuff, you arent gay at all."

Eventually I have a sit down conversation with her, about how confusing this all was and how I wish I knew how I felt, and so on. She said she had a similar questioning phase but it never stuck so she doesnt think I am.

Like a month later I figure it out and dude that was so gratifying. I came out as bi to my mom, who just dismissed the whole thing, but I was terrified to tell my uncle (it's a long story about that, no it's not "sweet home Alabama") because he always said bi's were wh*res so yeah. I ended up telling him, and he goes, "You know my opinion on it but that doesnt mean that I'll disown you or anything." Btw the relationship (dating wise) with my best friend after he came out as ftm because he went back to his ex, it's all cool tho.

So that was that, or so I thought. It was my first year of high school, and I finally really understood the definition of pan, what was holding me back though was the trans experience, I thought because I didnt know what it was like, I couldnt be pan, even though I didnt have a preference, turns out it just means you like people no matter their gender and it like, clicked finally so yeah. I've told my family about that since but I a similar reaction: my mom said she doesnt think I am and she lectured me on my generation having so many labels and how she hated it. My uncle said he appreciated that I was pan more than me being bi which confused me but he just had a better view of pansexual than bisexual. (I explained to both of them what the difference was but idk man)

I believe it was my second year of high school when I really started to question my gender, and that was mostly because I saw a video of what gender dysphoria looks like if it's not that strong and you arent aware for ftm. So like wearing bagging clothes all the time, always wearing sports bras, and practically no other bra, feeling really good if someone accidentally calls you sir, etc. And I was like, oml it's me. But it wasnt, I didnt find that out until later tho. So, with my friend group, I find a name that seems to fit me well and ask them to address me by it and he/him pronouns, as like a test of sorts. (All of my friends are gay in some way so it was cool) In the end tho, I got a little iffy about the whole thing and wouldnt ever correct them at times or it was just off for me. I felt really bad because I thought that they might have thought that I was just trying to force myself to be more like them, but I wasnt, i still felt bad though and kinda dropped it.

I'm not sure 100% how I figured it out tho, but I remember talking to my best friend (not the same one from middle school, they were my best friend as well but they arent the same person) about the whole experience and I believe they brought up the idea of genderfulid, and I was like :0.... what that. They explain it, you go aall over the gender spectrum, some days you might feel like a boy, others you might feel like you have no gender, some days you might feel like your gender is something completely weird and different, that's just what it is. And I was like, "It fits but like, I barely feel femme at any point in time, maybe like once a year." And they tell me, that's ok and stuff as long as my gender just decides to be a completely weird and went all over the place, it counted, so I was like, "I finally figured it out!!!" And i was so happy.

Then came the time I was comfortable enough to tell my parents. I had been using the label genderfuild for over half a year already and I thought that it was what I was so it was ok to tell them. I saw how ok me being gay went, so I was nervous but not as nervous as I should have been, probably. I told my mom first, she went on a similar rant of her no liking my generations labels and such, but it went fine, I explained it, I thought I was through, I thought I was fine, apparently not. One day I'm in the shower and I hear my mom being very expressive with what ever shes talking about to my uncle, which is fine, she needs someone to vent to sometimes. When I get out though, and I can here her clearly, I hear sees complaining about what I told her recently, that I'm genderfulid, but instead of saying that, she only says I want to be a boy. (Oh no) So shes complaining to him, asking why I cant be more like her and just be a masculine girl and be fine, why do I have to fit in with the crowd of my generation to feel special, why cant I just be fine with who I am now? Etc.

The sad thing is, that night, I was going out shopping for pants and underwear with my uncle because I needed some and I wore men's pants already at that point, because they are more durable, and stuff so I knew it was gonna be a long ride. My mom was snippy with me that whole night, just the entire time which sucked.

When we finally left to go get clothes though, I didnt know it could get worse. My uncle lectured me about how that's just my generations fad, and how his was making tattoos and piercings ok in the work place and mine is being trans a gay and all that crap, and that I'm just trying to fit in, I'm not being myself, no matter how much I chop myself up and cut my hair and take hormones my chromosomes will never change and so I can never be an actual guy. He also said that I would bring just more attention to myself being a woman who does guy things rather than try and be one, and he thinks I'm doing this all for attention. I was mad but silent at this point, I didnt want to cause anything to happen. He ended up asking me, "So did you pick a different name?" I was surprised but I said yeah, and my friends were using it and it seemed to fit better. He asked me what it was and fear over took my body. I told him, "I'll only tell you if you dont use it against me if your mad." He says, "i cant promise that." And then gets mad because I wont tell him. Though I do, because I feel obligated since hes buying me clothes. To be even more confusing, he buys me guys underwear, and undershirts along with the predetermined pants he promised me and now I'm so confused.

But it gets even worse. When we get home, my mom freaks out on him because be bought me all that mens stuff and she said he was encouraging my behavior and stuff, he defended with it's just clothes, and yah it is. Eventually things settle down, obviously my mom isnt talking to be, but that's for the best at this point. I'm in the living room with my uncle and he just then starts harassing me with questions like, how do you know? he asks. "Well, I just feel that way, same as you." I say. But why do you wanna be a guy? he asks. "I dont wanna be a guy, it's just weird that way. Also it's not me being a guy, it me being many more than that," I say. He says that's bullsh*t. I offer to show him videos that better explain what trans is and how it's an actual sciencey thing and stuff but he said he wont take a video because he wants me to say it. And then he just goes off, saying the name I picked out shows how self centered I am because I am selfish, he kept asking me if i liked to fight, to catch and play with bugs, to be strong, to be angry all the time, and all these stereotypes for men and I just left, and went to bed. He wasnt going to listen to me, so there wasnt a point to me staying.

But, it gets worse. The morning comes and I'm awoken by the slam of my door by my uncle and the laughter of my mom. My uncle starts being really aggressive and starts cleaning my room, I only have clothes on the floor mostly so that's all it was, but he starts saying, well if you're gonna be a man, imma start training you like one, the man of the house picks up after everyone, the man of the house does everything he can to help the house run smoothly, the man of the house has to be strong, and all that stuff. (Which I thought was funny because he was "the man of the house" yet I did everything, and still do. I clean up most after him, funny huh.) And, I know what's happening and so I stay in bed, I don't want this to happen. But I literally get ripped out of my bed by my uncle and get told to stop being a little b*tch and a brat because I'm being selfish by my mom and I'm yelled at to sit in the living room and wait while my uncle cleans my room. When hes done hes starts lecturing me and being all aggressive and in my face. He keeps asking me a million questions with the tone that he didnt care so I knew he wouldn't listen. Eventually, him and my mom leave, I'm told to stay there until I get back. When they do get back, they act like everything is fine, nothing happened between them and I and it's just been so hard for me to talk to them about that since.

I'm greatful that I dont have to deal with that anymore but every time something that that is brought up with my family, I panic so much now. I'm fine and I'm safe but it was very traumatic for me. And uh, thanks for listening.

hey, thank you so much for sharing your story. this was just. so heartbreaking. noone deserves to have a person like your uncle in their life. im so sorry you had to go through all of that. i hope you’re in a much better place now <3 (also i loveeddd reading about how you figured it out) =)

again, tysm <3

#transphobia #transphobia tw #biphobia tw #abuse tw

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years ago

Text

pinky and the brain - s1e3b: that smarts

here it is. lol.

episode summary: frustrated at pinky’s constant disruption of his plans (okay, brain, if you say so) brain invents a machine to make him smarter. it goes about as well as you think it would.

the rundown:

it’s acme labs.

unless this is just some cage in the middle of nowhere, i guess. i don’t know.

no, wait. definitely acme labs. brain is writing in his Mouse Diary, probably relating the weird dream he just had about being in post-war japan. he has a lot of those, it seems, probably because it’s a good way for the writers to keep the status quo.

mumble mumble grump grump mumble mumble

“ah!” like he’s just discovered something. you’re not getting anywhere with those formulae though, brain. ∞A2-A= 2 to the tetration is just absolute gibberish and it’s not going to help you at all.

still, i’m glad he’s found what he’s looking for. satisfied with his nonsense calculations, brain calls pinky over.

bomp.

“narf.”

“what were you doing up there, pinky.”

“oh!” says pinky, who has just remembered he’s british. “i was having a devil of a time cleaning the chimney, brain.”

“we don’t have a chimey.”

“oh, well. there you are then.”

yeah.

brain reassures pinky that he is nowhere near the ceiling, which is good, because we don’t want more asthma than this poor guy already has. instead, he proposes to pinky that he’s figured out why they haven’t taken over the world yet.

“oh, i know why, brain. it’s gremlins.”

LITTLE SPRINKLY SPRITES THAT CONFUSE US

ALWAYS TWIDDLING THEIR LITTLE FINGERS IN OUR EARS

“an interesting theory.”

i like how brain draws himself, here. with the little ¬¬ face. grompy.

“but i have reviewed our past efforts, pinky, turning the situations into numbers in an effort to locate the exact problem.”

“well that sounds, um. narf.”

“yes, i’m sure it does.”

luckily, he’s plotted them all out on his little graph plotter, which is apparently going to paint a picture of the thing that’s ruining their plans... because... that’s how numbers work.... apparently? coming from the guy who thinks you can multiply infinity by -2 tetrated, forgive me for being skeptical.

let’s see how this goes!

oh.

still, pinky looks like he wants to put it on the fridge, so it’s not all bad, i guess. “egad, brain! that looks like me! but flat!”

“it is you, pinky. my calcuations have indicated that you are the problem.”

ouch.

“p... pinky?”

the leering figure of brain in his Man Suit behind him doesn’t help the tone, and should also probably serve as a reminder that sometimes it’s-- well, we’ll get to that.

poor pinky. ):

brain rubs it in further by deriding pinky as a “spazzy, beetleheaded dufus.” he has.... diagrams, to match. this is all very rude and unneeded.

😭😭😭😭😭

“but you’re not getting rid of me, are you, brain? i mean you? working as a single? look at what happened to jerry lewis when he split from dean! all that stuff in your hair--”

“point taken.”

“but fear not.” <gay little hand flip in response.>

but brain has another plan! he is going to make pinky smart. so that’s not too bad, i guess? oh he’s making me change everything about myself! but at least he didn’t dump me.

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

i’m waiting for the christmas episode.

so brain gets pinky all strapped into the promare spinny machine.

he also makes this face when pinky asks why people don’t usually just make themselves smarter. so okay. he maintains that “the problem is in the execution”, but quite frankly i think it’s because most people aren’t into eugenics.

anyway brain activates the smartsotron.

it, uh. i don’t know why this shot was taken from this angle. i’m sorry. i’m sure, historically, it made a lot of people happy.

brain does some more scientific mumbling.

“fourty seven knots, six-- nineteen kelvin, fibbonaci, n minus one,”

“coming-- coming--”

in the nicest way possible, brain, i’m not sure he is.

“now!”

if you say so, brain. he goes off to pull the lever that. does that.

it has an effect.

the face of a man who is enjoying himself, apparently.

brain also shorts out the whole electricity for acme labs, which is very funny.

“pinky?” says brain, like he was concerned for his health like five minutes ago, when he put him into the bloody thing in the first place.

“oh, that was fun, brain! haha ha. narf. hoo! i’m all tingly! woo woo.”

“fun, perhaps, but obviously not successful.”

“oh, no, no, i think it was!”

“at first i thought the folded dipole wasn’t working as your centrefed, horizontally mounted conductor,”

“but frequencies below thirty megahertz--!”

“loud and clear! haha!”

“and i must say, brain, the peak value wave shape of the impulse voltage? glorious! i mean, hitting that maximum value without appreciable, superimposed oscillations! egad brain! brilliant!”

haha ha.

“YES!”

good for brain. the worrying implications of his assumption that making pinky smart would cure his tourettes??? we can worry about that later.

narf.

anyway, so tonight’s plan for world domination is that brain will pose as jimmy hoffa--

okay.

anyway, he intends to pose as jimmy hoffa and manipulate the old labour leaders into worshipping him.

with that, they will help him utilise the industrial complex to build a “forced vertoconvector”, whatever that means.

“it will create millions of steaming, tiny guysers that will actually lift people several inches off the ground, immobilising them.”

“egad, brain! it’s like giant air hockey!”

unfortunately for brain, his coefficient values are wrong. “it’s suppose to be sin, not cosin. kind of flips the whole thing around. haha. won’t work.”

inside his head, brain screams, quietly.

but never mind! initially, he’s excited, because pinky has saved them a whole night’s work! tremendous!

and luckily, he has a backup plan, which is also totally going to work. “take a look at this one,”

“colleague.”

“oh, brain.”

this is how mice flirt, i guess.

ignoring that “colleague” is a slight downgrade from “lifelong friend,” brain explains that he intends to program a computer to generate a fantastically popular romance novel, that i actually don’t want to look at the cover of for too long.

ew.

let’s move away from that. the romance novel “will contain a hypnophonetic sentence so long and so confusing that the reader will be forced to reread it, endlessly, out loud, and the frequencies of those sounds will hypnotise all those around them, primed for my suggestion that,”

I RULE THE WORLD. it’s not quite a close up but it’s a funny face so i’m counting it.

pinky is not as hype.

“the frequency needs to be an exact integral multiple of the input, doesn’t it? or it’ll be all wobble wobble bluueeroooogh.”

that’s one way of putting it. “not hypnotic at all, nope. won’t work.”

“yes. you’re right.”

brain is not enjoying this any more, it seems.

“by converting our cage into a nuclear reactor, we can produce enough energy--”

“but your migration area is tiny, brain! the neutron will never be able to slow down from fission to thermal in here!”

“please, pinky. let me finish--”

“but it’s got to be at least one sixth of the square distance between--”

“pinky!”

lms if you are the square distance between pinky.

“it seems to be, brain, that it’s not my fault at all that these plans haven’t worked.”

man. we don’t get to see pinky mad at brain very often? i love it. please let him get this mad in the reboot. madder, even. let them argue, wb!!

i don’t think brain has much grounds to argue, considering that he is, of course, the inventor of Really Big Magnet That Sticks People To The Floor By Their Pocket Change. still, he gives it a go.

he drags pinky back over to his weird little graph machine, citing that he “calcuated it himself” and “the numbers don’t lie.”

<gay little hand flip>. that’s not entirely fair because this is a tween but. it’s funny.

“actually, there seems to be a little booboo right here.”

poke.

he sets about correcting it, of course!

brain may well be at his limit.

(they angle that through the bunsen burner as it boils over, which is a very nice touch. it’s a metaphor, kids! he’s having a Hard Time.)

“these-- this!--”

“it’s preposterous what you’re saying! it’s ridiculous! it’s absurd!”

“but brain--”

“just go!”

“naaaaaarf.” going mouse! leave. ):

but now that brain has vented his own raging insecurities, he has some calculating to do.

well! isn’t that a merry little plot twist.

brain’s response to this is to have a nervous breakdown, because of course it is.

“no!” he cries. “he’s even smarter than i! smarter!”

“but i have accepted my own errors. the team needs balance. balance! yes.”

this can’t be good.

conclusion:

meanwhile, pinky is mourning their friendship! and all of the bops on the head.

“being a smarty is no fun! brain doesn’t like me.”

awww. ):

hm.

meanwhile, brain is wittering on about how “sacrifices must be made,” as he plugs himself into the machine.

“fourty seven knots, six-- nineteen kelvin, fibbonaci, n plus one, coming.” despite that, he doesn’t seem very happy to be here.

bonk.

brain runs back to their cage excitedly, to show pinky what he’s done!

and immediately falls over in the process. aww.

“pinky! look! i’m a ninny! a wooden headed dumbdumb!”

“there’s not a smart thought in my whole empty head!”

this man is having a nervous breakdown.

“narf, i say! narf to the world!”

wait, what’s that noise?

ah.

“ah! it’s good to be back. brain? brain?”

bonk.

that doorway is evidently a real problem for them. someone should probably fix it before they break their little ankles. ):

“i fixed it! i’m a nitwit!” pinky cheers. “hurrah!”

“yes. i fixed it as well, pinky. i’m as dense as a tree stump.”

“you mean--”

“yes.”

“well, we’ll just have to make you smart again, don’t we?”

“we can’t. we’re both too stupid to operate the machine.”

so instead they just sort of sit down and give up, i guess.

“what do you wanna do tonight, brain?”

“the same thing we do every night, pinky.”

“what’s that?”

“i have no idea.” says brain, in a monotone, clearly upset deadpan. “narf.”

so that’s that, i guess.

originally, i was going to give this to brain - they were both as smart as each other, and if they had worked together they probably could have taken over the world. all he had to do was take the L and let pinky advise him.

on the other hand.... pinky is emotionally intelligent enough that i think he could have had a shot at reasoning with brain about it. and if he’d tried, then he would have figured out that brain had put himself in the machine, and if brain had tried to reason through his insecurities, he would have worked out that pinky had put himself in the machine, and--

basically they get half a point again.

brain: 6 pinky: 7 outside influence: 11

because i think that’s fair.

either way, they seem to have fixed it, somehow, by the next segment. so it’s all good.

BRAINSTEM BRAINSTEM.

#patb #pinky and the brain #i could have found some funny parts in this episode but #i wanted to remind everyone of brainstem #BRAINSTEM BRAINSTEM

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bizarropurugly · 4 years ago

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I feel bad for writing porn so much that it’s killed my writing spirit because it’s hard to share porn

and I don’t mean in the “nobody reblogs my stuff weh” kind of way but in the fact my audience is very limited

like my grandma likes my writing and she doesn’t care I write porn but I also can’t fucking show my grandma PORN

and I’ve already had some prudish ass try to report me on dA despite following the rules just for submitting to their group even though I’ve submitted my smut before and I’ve seen people get pissy about “how dare you be public about sexual stuff when SOMEONE COULD SEE IT WHO DOESN”T WANNA!” so I know people are judgemental and with my history and general nervousness that doesn’t help

and yes of course I want to write developmental stuff for zed and candler!! happy and sad. I have ideas I really do it’s just also

I feel so exhausted and mushy all the time to do anything and when I DO finally want to do something it always turns to the porn. maybe because most of my ideas are for the darker parts of their lives and I just want to write about having a love life and all the romantic things of learning a person, just be happy and such

I thought listening to articles for my sex ed blog would help, instead of reading, but now I don’t want to listen either anymore. I think I’m overloading.

I’m fighting the “seasonal” urge to close the blog just because of all the energy it wipes from me. I feel guilty about that because of the people it helps and because I think this is my passion, it’s something I get heated and animated about according to people I speak to, but at the same time a part of me just feels too morose and weak to do it anymore.

I’m 30 years old now, and I think I’ve long given up my dream of being a sex ed teacher or sexologist. I’m just not cut out for. living. for having a life that isn’t miserable and pathetic. Everyone saw it coming a mile away. From the kids who shunned me in the elementary school advanced placement club on, it was just Known and I was the only one who didn’t get it. I never belonged there and that’s why nobody came running when I crashed and burned in high school and inevitably never finished college. They knew that was going to happen.

I’m too ashamed to make friends or partners. Too ashamed of my appearance, my lack of accomplishments, my home, what I do day to day.

I cried over an article about trans for trans love the other day, that interviewed several trans couples, because I know I can’t get that or do anything they’re doing. I almost find myself feeling resentful of my cats because if they weren’t here then I wouldn’t be forced to keep trying; to keep putting money in my pocket, food in the fridge, and to clean what I can.

A part of me yearns for socialization but I’m shutting down and isolating from everyone constantly. deviantART inbox is piling up. So is the sex ed blog’s inbox. And my messages on here. And haven’t really made any posts honestly... In the only discord chat I’m active in I feel a frequent panic that I’m talking too much and everyone is waiting for me to shut up, so I monitor my speaking like a chronic dieter monitors calories. And when people contact me individually, I freeze up like a deer in the headlights.

I drag my feet to therapy and doctor sessions because not only do I feel like what’s the point anymore because I’ll always be in pain and never be able to allow myself forgiveness or love or acceptance or positivity to where almost the very notion of giving myself any sort of inch makes me want to hurt myself, but also all I ever want to do is sit at home and do nothing, literally. But if I sleep erratically or too much or too little I’m plagued by nightmares, repeating events from my past and ghosts of the people I knew, tones rapidly shifting to where I’m like Homura in PMMM Rebellion where I’m the only one who knows something is Fucked, or to where everyone’s speaking about me behind my back and mounting attacks from the shadows, demanding I choose between friends, kicking me from spaces, drowning me. So even lying in bed isn’t an option, because what if I sleep?

I don’t want to stay at others’ homes anymore because I scream and cry so much in my sleep it’s mortifying.

And nobody gets it. And I don’t think they can or I don’t want them to, because that plays into the part of “you’re being too nice to yourself when you know you’re a bad person and don’t deserve it, if people feel bad or empathize you’ve just tricked them into thinking you’ve changed and you haven’t, so shut the fuck up and don’t cry around people”, and also I’m sure the few people I confide in are very, very tired of hearing about it by now.

I scream into the tumblr void because it is a void. Here’s my open diary people won’t read or will instantly forget because of scrolling. It’s in one way relieving because I can vent out, but as I mentioned before it’s also frustrating because despite the things I say I will have people I’ve known say “wow I didn’t know!” to something I’ve said a million times before and that could easily be found--

I don’t know. I guess I don’t know anymore. I’m caught between the dread of having to live decades more like being dragged barenaked across pavement, and the phobia I have of death. I hate existing and being alive but I’m terrified of what happens when it’s over, of not knowing or more specifically that it’s literally all over and I don’t know what it will feel like for the world to literally end like that.

I can’t even cry much about it because I don’t have time. Have to get up for work or get things together or do something else always. Don’t have time to wail and sob and then sniffle and unplug my nose for g-d knows how long. Don’t have time to recover from the nightmare that had me hurt myself and lose my voice. Don’t have time to try and “relax” in some way.

Only got time for guilt and anxiety and trauma and isolation and forcing myself to go until I’m sick and argue in my head with myself about myself and how I feel and what I remember and what a fucking useless disgusting piece of shit I am that people can’t wait for me to off myself at last for.

lmao wow this went off the rails

#negative -#suicide m -#that's a text post

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human-trash-fire · 5 years ago

Text

Beautiful Disaster: Ch. 4 (Pynch Soulmate-AU)

I realized I never posted Ch 4 for my Pynch AU! So here it is, for anyone interested, HERE is a link to my masterlist where you can find the first 3 chapters. (THIS WILL NOT MAKE SENSE WITHOUT READING THE OTHERS) I’m also on Ao3 as glam_reaper2 <3

Anyways, this fic is the writing I’m most proud of, and I can’t wait to drop Ch 5 this week!

TW: Adam’s Dad/ mentioning abuse, graphic depiction of violence, mention of suicide attempt.

Adam Parrish woke in the early hours on the third day after the alley. The pre-dawn glow streaming through the crack in his curtains cast shadows on the plants and books covering his shelves. Eyes heavy and throat raw, Adam took a deep breath. In through his nose, oxygen flooding his lungs, battling to release the weight that had long since laid claim on the space behind his ribs. He held it until he thought he might choke. Vision blurring, heartbeat hammering in his ears, a pulsing reminder that he was still here; then in a rush, he released. The momentary weightlessness was a small reprieve.

The tiny arm slung across his abdomen a reminder that, at least for now, he wasn’t alone. Blue had crawled into his bed the afternoon before and stayed with him through the long night. Adam moved her arm off and slid as carefully and quietly as he could from the bed, he didn’t wish to wake her. She needed sleep, the exhaustion evident on her face even now.

He moved toward the window, reaching out to open his curtains, allowing the morning light to flood in. And there he stood, hand still holding the curtain, eyes trained on the horizon. He remained unmoved, watching the sun crawl from the earth bathing everything in its path in colors Adam had never seen. They were fresh, warm, soft. They stole his breath and for a moment, a lifetime, he stood frozen and allowed that hopeful warmth to settle in his bones. In awe of the majesty of nature, swallowed whole by the gift of color, broken by it.

His breath stuttered.

The man in the alley would never see a sunrise, or a sunset. He had given Adam this gift and left mere hours before Adam could have reciprocated. His thoughts spiraled, fingers tightening on the curtain, eyes burning. The sunrise moved from photographic clarity to an impressionist painting, and salt kissed his lips.

“Adam…” Blue breathed from his side, reaching out and pulling aside the second curtain to allow a full view.

“It’s-” Adam choked on a whisper, “It’s magnificent, and he’ll never see.”

Adam spent the rest of the week coping in the only way he knew how: throwing himself into his jobs and school work. Blue and Henry had closed ranks, showering him with their own personal versions of love.

For Henry, it was distraction, mindless conversation, a steady companionship during hours in the library. Henry Cheng, though initially someone Adam never saw friendship potential in, was more than most gave him credit for. On the outside, he was loud. From his clothes to hair, he was unabashedly himself: caring, vibrant, loyal. Adam appreciated the effort, never pressured to talk about what was clearly tearing him apart.

Blue was the opposite, in a very Blue way. She brought him coffees and hugs, asked him about his mood, and made highly unsubtle references to “healthy coping mechanisms.” She was kind but stern, pushing him towards what he knew logically was the next step. But this trauma was too big, too heady to file away in the closet in his mind marked “DANGER.”

It had been a little over a week since he watched his first true sunrise when Blue decided to take off the kid gloves.

“Look.” Her voice was as unwavering as her eye contact, sitting next to him on the chipped-white metal bench in the alley beside Nino’s Cafe where they took their break. Nino’s was his second job, and Blue’s “fun money/ free caffeine” job, covering the hours she wasn’t working on her photography portfolio.

Adam held her gaze, and his breath. Her tone brokered no room for argument, and he knew he had spent enough time avoiding answering anything truthfully… Her forcing a “talk” on him was inevitable. He nodded once to indicate he was listening, and waited for her to continue.

“I know you aren’t ready to talk, and that is completely fine. I won’t bullshit you and pretend I have any idea what kind of pain you’re in. No- no,” she held up a finger to cut off Adam’s rebuttal. “Don’t shake your head and feed me you’re ‘i’m fine’ because we both know you’re not. That being said you’re a grown ass man, who makes his own decisions and I respect that. But, Adam?”

He cocked his head to the side, and made a noncommittal grunt.

“You need to do something. You know I always advocate therapy, but -don’t scoff asshole- but, I’m also aware that it’s ‘not your thing’ so I had another idea. Here,” Blue thrust a bag towards Adam. It was a recycled paper shopping bag, rolled at the top and lighter than he expected.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Open it.”

He unrolled the bag skeptically and peered inside. His right eyebrow hitched as he looked away from the bag’s contents and towards Blue. “The fuck?”

“Letters. That’s my idea. Something I never told you but, when my dad left I had all this rage and I had no one to direct it towards. My mom got me a pack of envelopes and blank paper and told me to try writing a letter to him. She told me I didn’t ever have to send what I wrote to him if I didn’t want too, and I didn’t. The act of venting everything in a direct way really helped me, it was more than a diary, or whatever, because these were shots at an intended target. I could be mad and then seal it in an envelope and the weight in my chest lifted a little. I thought maybe…” She motioned towards the bag with a crooked smile and a shrug.

“Letters…” Adam repeated. “To a dead guy?”

“Yes.”

“Blue, I don’t know.”

“Look, just take the damn bag. Do it, or don’t. I can’t and wont force you. But at least consider it.” Then she rose to her full height, the most intimidating 5 feet he had ever seen, giving him what could only be called a “mom look” and sauntered back inside.

That night, weighted down by grief and half delirious with exhaustion, Adam opened the bag. He pulled out the box of white envelopes, cracked open the pack of college-rule paper, and grabbed a black pen from the cup at the right of his desk. This is so stupid, he thought as he put his pen to paper...

i. You, I never knew your name. You left before I ever had the chance to ask. I wish more than anything that I knew your name, at least then I’d be able to grieve a person instead of a stranger in an alley. You were… Exquisite. Even floating in a pool of your own life, you were beautiful. You were. Past tense. Gone. I dreamed of knowing you. The idea of you, in abstract my whole life. I didn’t know who you’d be, but, still I dreamed. It was my secret. The odds of finding your soulmate are so slim these days, and yet… In the quiet hours of the night, bone tired and barely standing at work, or when the hunger pains threatened to cripple me, I’d pull you out of the careful place in my mind, and dream. It’s dangerous to dream. I know better now. You fucking left me. How dare you? It’s probably a good thing you’ll never read these letters. Blue, my best friend, suggested I write them to help me “find closure.” That’s very Blue. She’s all about self-care and talking through feelings. Henry, my other friend, agrees with her. So here I am, attempting to vomit my heart on a page in hope of finding some semblance of peace. There is so much I wish I could have told you, and so much more that would have terrified me to admit. That’s one benefit to your never knowing me I suppose... Honestly, it was probably for the best that, in the end, you never had the chance to try knowing me. I’m a disaster. I’m unknowable. And that’s, fine. Ya know? I’m okay, I think. Holding onto that which sets me apart, and working my hardest to fix everything else that’s in my power. That’s how I got here, Georgetown. I did it myself. That’s something I would have told you, because it’s something I am proud of, though I’ll never say. I worked 3 jobs through highschool, made straight A’s, volunteered, and slaved away. I saved money in a shoebox under a loose vent in my trailer to buy books. My dad would have killed me, literally, if he’d ever found that. I was supposed to give them everything, but I hid that. I hid so much. I got really good at hiding in that place. Henrietta… What a fucking shit show. Anyways, I saved and pushed myself. I think I ate maybe once a day for those years, if I was lucky? I know I barely slept. But it was worth it the day the acceptance letter came in the mail. Georgetown. 3 hours away. A world away. A full ride. I was so fucking happy that day, I even allowed myself to dip into the shoebox to buy a coke fom the gas station by the autoshop I worked at. That was my life then, and still is now, to some extent. Small rewards, focus on the bigger picture. Work, work, work, and then one day have the power and money, the status, the ability to fight for people like me. I had barely put the box back when my dad, Robert, saw me holding my acceptance letter, and a $20. I wasn’t allowed to have money in my room, even if I made it myself. It was “for the family” he always said. “Do you want us to starve?” “you think you’re so fancy at your charter school don’t you?” always the same. Always cruel. So I’m standing there, money and letter in hand, smiling like an idiot when he comes in. I’ll never forget that day. I’d taken so many beatings from him by the time I was 17, it was second nature really. But this one? For some reason it surprised me. I thought for sure that he would be capable of some sense of joy. I got into college, for free. But Robert wasn’t like that. I could smell the beer on his breath. Keystone, always fucking Keystone. It smells like piss. It still makes me gag. “What the fuck is that?” he asked. And I didn’t know how to respond. I remember stuttering. I was always stuttering, mumbling, hiding, lying. Anything to avoid the inevitable. “I asked you a question, boy.” I panicked. “Its, uh, a letter, sir. An acceptance letter. From college. I-I got in.” Apparently it wasn’t the right response. I don’t remember much after that, I know he told me I had no right to hide money because I “owed him.” I always owed him. For breathing, for having the audacity to live. That night was the worst I can remember though. He wouldn’t stop. He was screaming about how I wasn’t allowed to just leave. I took more hits than usual, but I could have handled it. I’m no stranger to broken bones and bruises. But I was so scared this time. I knew, somehow I knew that this was it. If I didn’t get out he was going to kill me. Kill me because of a $20 and a full ride. I tried to run. I did. I never made it very far though. He caught me, and the last thing I remember was a screaming pain in the left side of my head. I don’t know why I’m even writing all this, maybe Blue and Henry were right? I’ve never even told them all of this. I really doubt I would have told you this had I been given the chance. I would have stuck to the barest details: Deaf in left ear. Accident. Long time ago. I don’t talk to my parents. Or maybe I wouldn’t have hid…Soulmates are a safe space right? Through whatever magic, or science, or God (if you believe in one of those, I don’t- hope you wouldn’t have cared) we are supposed to be able to share it all. A balance. A quiet place. A home. I wonder what you would have said if I told you? I hope it wouldn’t have been pitying. I don’t do pity. I’ll never know that though, which is maybe a relief? I don’t know. I hope you would have been proud though, that I did get out. Of what I’m doing with my life now. I haven’t even told “you” have I? I got a double Bachelors in Political Science and Conflict Resolution. I’m currently taking a Masters in Public Policy. I know, most people see “Georgetown” and “Politics” and think “Here’s another white guy with dreams of power.” But it’s not that. I’m going to change things, my thesis is on Domestic Violence: prevention and programs. I’m going to fight for the kids like me, in the homes like mine. I’m going to fight for every time I didn’t hit back. Every bruise and broken bone. I’m going to change the world for the Adam Parrish’s. I’m going to bring an end to the Roberts. That’s what I’m doing now. I guess I’ll be okay without you. I’ve always been better at work than relationships anyway. If we’re being honest you probably would have hated me. I’m terrible with making time for anyone. I have goals though, I don’t have the luxery to fuck around. I’m not conducive to a partnership, and I’m not even sure I’d be capable of love. I would have tried for you though. Maybe you needed that. Maybe if you’d had it, love, you wouldn’t have ended up in the alley. I don’t know. I wish I could ask you why. I just… fuck. This letter is getting severely out of hand. It doesn’t matter why you did it. You did. And that’s that I suppose. Forever a mystery, the man with the beautiful face and ice blue eyes. “I used to build dreams about you.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald, Benediction That’s all you are now. A dream.

He folded the pages in thirds, slipping them in an envelope, and sealing them away. On the outside he wrote the number one, then slid the envelope into a crack between one of his potted plants and a row of books on his window sill. Then Adam crawled into bed and finally slept; for once it was a dreamless- restorative sleep.

Shattered heart hanging heavy in his chest, Adam looked up when the bell above the door to Nino’s chimed the arrival of a new patron. The young couple made their way towards the counter. The smaller man leaning lovingly into the side of his partner, while the taller man looked down lovingly, arm draped across the first’s shoulders. It was a quiet moment, something so personal and beautiful Adam looked down, he didn’t want to intrude. His hands were shaking, a bitter jealousy crashing like waves in a storm through his entire being. He took a steadying breath, trying to quell the rage, and uncapped the black marker, grabbing a cup to prepare to take their order.

“Hi,” he bit out through his customer service smile. He looked up from the cup in hand, allowing a little of his Henrietta lilt to color his words into something close to friendly. “Welcome to Nino’s, what can I get started for you today?”

“Hi! Can we please get a- Oh, wow!” The shorter man had stopped mid-sentence and leaned close to Adam across the counter. “Your eyes are so blue! Babe, have you ever seen eyes so beautiful?” Adam wanted to fucking snap. The larger man leaned in as well and hummed in approval.

“No I haven’t, sorry. I know this is probably so inappropriate,” he leaned back, tone placating. “We don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, this is just all new for us-”

Adam didn’t fucking care.

“-Anyways, can we please get two Americanos, and a a slice of apple pie with two forks?”

Of course, Adam nodded. He finished the order and made the drinks with shaking hands and a barely controlled rage burning him from within, blooming pink across his cheeks.

He couldn’t breathe.

When he returned home, he slammed his door and flew to his desk; practically tearing a lined sheet from the pile of supplies from Blue and began to write. Pen pressed so hard small tears formed in the paper as he purged…

ii.

You.

Fuck you for what you did. For what you did to yourself. What you did to that man in the alley. Screaming. Begging. Holding you together.

For what you did to me.

I hate you.

I hate that I love you. The idea of you. Because you couldn’t even wait for me. I never got the chance to love the real you, and I loathe you for it.

You fucking left me alone.

All this goddamn color, all these beautiful things, and I’m still living in black and white.

I’m drowning.

You were my hope.

You were my end game. Sometimes, I fear you’ll be my end.

I can’t get away from the idea of you.

I see your face every time I close my eyes.

You’re haunting me.

You’re ruining me.

Fuck you.

I hate you.

Fuck, You.

You…

Why did you leave me all alone?

When he finished his breath was ragged, chest rising and falling in heavy swells. Angry tears drying splotches across the page before him, turning certain words into a blurry but still legible watercolor. He threw his pen across the room, shoved the letter into the envelope marked 2, and placed it alongside the first.

Adam spent the remaining days of September numb. He had taken to carrying a few sheets of paper and envelopes in his messenger bag in case he ever needed them.

It was on one particular afternoon -two days before September ended- as he sat in Nino’s sipping coffee and staring blankly at the textbook in front of him, that he wrote his third letter. He felt untethered, unbalanced, the sky outside was such a pale blue that his mind began to wander. With a sigh, he pulled out a sheet of paper, and an envelope marking the outside with the number three.

iii.

You,

I’m so lost…

I can’t fall asleep without seeing your eyes.

Unfocused.

Unblinking.

Ice cold.

Fathomless.

Broken.

I wonder how they looked when you were happy… I hope you were happy, truly happy. At least once there before the end.

I bet they were beautiful.

Come back.

Please…

Adam stayed staring at that plea, that unanswered wish, until his coffee was cold. He wondered if this would ever end, he wasn’t unfamiliar with want. Adam had wanted more than anyone he had ever known. He was accustomed to the pain, the resentment that came with wanting that which you cannot have, but unlike all the other times this was wholly unattainable. No amount of extra shifts, A’s on homework, perfect test scores, hard-work would ever give him this particular want.

He packed his bag slowly, tossing his coffee in the trash by the door and waving half-heartedly at his coworker behind the counter. The bell chimed his departure and he made his way out into the chilly September afternoon. The walk from Nino’s to his apartment was blessedly short. As he rounded the corner at the end of the block he was assaulted by the acrid smell of smoke.

Adam looked up, chill already forgotten, for the source and his eyes landed on a peculiar sight: A handsome man, in a nice crisp peacoat and cashmere scarf. Standing, hands clasped behind his neck, staring into the open maw of a smoking, Candy-Orange, ‘73 Camero.

“Hey!” he half shouted, making his way towards the gentleman, his greeting had clearly disturbed an emotional crisis. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, did you maybe need some help?”

“Oh, hi. Yes, Hello. I’m, no thank you. I’m alright. I’ll give someone a call, The Pig is an auto-shop frequent flyer I’m afraid. Though, I’ve never seen it smoke quite so heavily.” The man half laughed, and shook his head.

“I don’t mind, I’m actually a mechanic down at Boyds. I can take a peak and see if I can do anything here if you’d like? Save you a trip.”

“Are you sure? I’d be more than happy to pay y-”

Adam shook his head fiercely, “No need. I’m Adam, by the way.”

He held out his hand towards the man, who grasped his in kind. A vibrant smile lit his face, “Lovely to meet you Adam, I’m Gansey.”

#pynch #pynch fic #Adam Parrish #ronan lynch #ronan x adam #blue sargent #gansey #gangsey #bd au

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punkiepunzyl · 6 years ago

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The Darkling’s Soldier #2

I will probably won't update for a few days after this chapter... I just had some free time today and figured why not?

The next few weeks passed in a serious haze. Feydor was, in fact, correct about my selection- and I ended sleeping in a room of snoring men. But something didn't make sense. Why would a woman sleep in the same quarters as men, I just felt entirely vulnerable... but Feydor said I was the first female on the Darkling's guard and so additional quarters had never been made. I didn't necessarily like the position it put me in- but I didn't have the nerve to ask the soverenyi about it either.

If I thought combat training was difficult in the First Army, well then the ordeals we were put through on a daily basis made it look like a paper cut. Intense laps around the palace ground, and sparring matches that I just barely made it out of without being too terribly bruised and beaten. Even the Darkling trained in hand to hand combat, often against Ivan- and in those moments I actually felt some pity for the soverenyi's second in command.

I was permitted to carry a rifle in the first army, but never a pistol even remotely close to the caliber of the one Eyrk gave me. It turns out I wasn't the only non-Grisha in the Darkling's guard. Which honestly struck me as odd. Everyone always thought that the oprichniki was a series of lethal heartrenders, but I guess everyone makes false assumptions. It took a while to get used to the weight of the sleek pistol on my side, but what made matters worse was the fact that I constantly felt like a lost duckling every time we moved locations around the palace. I knew I was doing exactly what Artur (another oprichnik) taught me about walking in formation, but it didn't make me feel any less stupid.

The most uncomfortable part of it all, however, was staying stoic during meetings with the King. The King would stare at me while the Darkling and he conversed about saint's knows what- I wasn't paying attention half of the time; because I was far too focused on not cringing at the Ravkan monarch as he sipped on his tea.

Then there was the apparat. He. Was. So. Gross. I felt like I had bugs crawling under my uniform everytime he was present, and the intensity of his stare didn't make things much easier. The least of my concerns was the soverenyi himself. He hardly paid me any mind, and sometimes I wondered if he even remembered that he'd recruited me. Interaction with grisha was rare, considering that we orpichniki followed a 'brotherly'- I should say 'sibling' like code. We stick with each other no matter what and there was no higher priority than the soverenyi's safety. Including our own. I felt a shudder run down my back at thought of death by one of the many enemies the Darkling, constantly faces.

There's the Shu- who would more than likely cut us apart as a form of torture for getting us to spill information concerning the Ravkan embassy. Then there's Fjerda, they would definitely stick us on the pyre just for even being associated with grisha and doing what they'd call "wasting" our lives protecting one. Then the Kerch- who would probably just sell us for a pretty penny to the other two for information- because let's face it if one of us were ever kidnapped, the Darkling would probably just cut his losses and consider us dead. There's plenty of us in the world... but only one of him.

"You okay kid? You look like you've just eaten rotten herring." Ivan's voice knocked me out of whatever trance I'd put myself in. Surprisingly enough the heartrender had begun to be somewhat kind to me in these recent weeks.

"First of all, this is the face I make any time I eat herring, saints that stuff is gross. And secondly, I'm fine... just thinking about my inevitable death that's all." I replied lightheartedly.

Ivan actually let out a snort. "Don't let the Darkling hear you're open disdain for herring, he may get offended. Also, don't think about dying, you'll be fine. You were picked for a reason after all. Even if I don't necessarily agree with it."

"Was that your attempt of being comforting, because if so... remind me to never vent to you again. Saints." I grumbled. I only received a grunt in response.

We were currently stationed in front of the war room where the Darkling was talking over some sort of plans with the captain of the king's guard. Or that's what I thought until I heard a woman's voice. She didn't sound very nice either.

"Am I supposed to just sit here and do nothing? I was led to believe I would be part of your guard but that little rat outside took my place instead." she hissed, ravkan accent thickly dripping through every word.

My posture ebbed for a moment shoulders sagging slightly. 'Rat?' my mind hissed at me. I grimaced openly and Ivan frowned glancing at the door behind us.

"Don't pay her any mind, that's how Zoya is towards everyone. And it's exactly why she isn't part of this regiment." I just nodded straightening my back and forcing my face to return to its neutral state.

I heard the harsh and cold tone of the soverenyi's voice and knew he was clearly pissed about something. A few moments later the girl was escorted out of the war room. I caught a glimpse of shiny black hair, blue eyes and pale skin as she sashayed out of the room. I didn't dare breath as she slowed her pace near me, and my eyes remained locked on the wall in front of me until she was a safe distance away.

"Shift change," Derik said suddenly next to me. I jumped and gave him a rather pointed look.

"Is it your goal to scare the living daylights out of me, or just how you happened to be as a whole because it isn't very funny." I snapped. His eyes widened and he mockingly put his hands up in surrender. I sighed moving to let him take post outside the war room and began to make my way back to our quarters to change and maybe head to the banya. That is until I was stopped by Ivan.

"The soverenyi has requested to speak with you." I gaped at him for a moment.

"When did you even leave? I was right here the whole time! I swear all of you were spies before this. Tiptoeing around for saints knows what." I grumbled.

"Just go, you won't want to keep him waiting- he's already had his nerves tested by Zoya."

I weaved around into Ivan and quietly knocked on the door to the war room. My hand's had suddenly gotten clammy and my throat felt like it'd decided to close itself.

"Come in." was the response I heard through the door. My heart had sped up to beating about a mile a minute now as I peeked my head in and then forced the rest of my body to move.

'Why am I so nervous right now? I'm literally next to him all day... not next to him- but in his general vicinity.' I scolded myself angrily. The Darkling was sitting at the end of the table looking over a series of documents and maps. He glanced up at me, apparently reading my hesitance with ease.

"You may close the door and have a seat. You aren't being reprimanded for anything," he said, somewhat amused. I followed his orders and quickly shut the door and sat on the left side of the table. Not to close to him, but not too far away either, I didn't want him to think I was afraid of him. Honestly, I wasn't- what I was afraid of was making my self look like an ass in front of him.

"What did you wish to speak to me about?" I asked once I was settled, as I desperately tried to not let my voice waver. He raised a brow, lips tipping up in a half smile. I felt myself shift in my seat uncomfortably and my brows knit together. 'What could possibly be so funny.'

"Are you happy here (Y/n)?" he asked entirely catching me off guard. My eyes shot up to look at him and I opened my mouth to say something before shutting it again.

"Umm, yes? I suppose I'm happy here. Or at least I thought I was until someone call me a rat." I said quickly and clamped my hand over my mouth after the last statement had left my mouth. "I apologize moi soverenyi I meant no disrespect I-" the words died on my tongue as the Darkling held up his hand to silence me.

"I asked a question and you answered honestly," he said simply. "I apologize for the fact that you heard Miss Nazyalensky call you a rat."

I looked at the table and then my hands. "It's nothing that I already haven't heard before. I took what she wanted... she has a right to be upset." I shrugged. He seemed surprised by my lack of feeling towards the matter. "Not that I'm okay with what she said, I just mean that I don't really care- that's all. "

He seemed in to be in thought before he abruptly said- "Would you like to accompany me to the banya?"

I felt my face heat slightly and simply nodded my head, all too certain of the fact that if I open my mouth right now- I will say something incredibly stupid. We moved to exit the war room, and for some reason when I emerged everyone seemed for colder than usual, especially considering the fact that I was one of them. Eyrk wordlessly appeared next to me and whispered-

"Don't fall under his spell, he'll use you then dispose of you. Just like Zoya."

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #did i mention aleksander morozova #The Grisha Trilogy #the Grishaverse #leigh bardugo #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #tumblr trash #zoya nazyalensky #Genya Safin #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #ivan

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m0oranshi · 7 years ago

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Diary of a cinephile - Entry 2

Want to get away from life and and watch top notch movies instead?

I’ve been extremely depressed and sick and unable to do much more than watch movies to block out my thoughts in the past two weeks. I haven‘t written a diary of recommendations in ages, but I feel like I’ll feel better if I pour out my love for my favorites, because I haven’t seen or talked about them with anyone. So... I just have to vent about their awesomeness and I want more people to enjoy them because they deserve recognition.

This one will be... Wow.

It’s bound to cure a little bit of sadness or at least get away from it for a while.

Every single one is different but so unique and amazing, from time-bending thriller, to life and loss, to stopmotion, to romance, to hell, to a man in a sheet walking around the whole movie and somehow it’s perfect... I have so many things that will blow your mind and I can’t keep these gems to myself anymore.

This will be in no specific order. They are all awesome.

I’ll post links as usual to the trailers, it’s up to you to watch them. I won’t give any spoilers though. You’re safe.

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A Ghost Story - Dir David Lowery

Ghost 2: Hello.

Ghost 1: Hi.

Ghost 2: I'm waiting for someone.

Ghost 1: Who?

Ghost 2: I don't remember.

Genre: Romance, Drama, Mystery

Trailer (please don’t watch it if you want to be surprised)

---

I can’t, again, write a synopsis without spoiling anything. So I’m going to write it in a question: How long are you willing to wait, and stay, for the person you love, even if you don’t really know if you’ll ever see them again, even if you don’t really know why, when or even how?

This movie is near impossible to explain. There is very little dialogue but it’s striking as hell. I never knew you could feel so much for an actual sheet without an expression that doesn’t talk. It drags on like crazy at times (there is a scene with a pie and I counted, it’s literally one shot for 3 minutes straight and I admit that was weird in the beginning) but in the grand scheme of it all, the slowness, the sudden fastness, the silence, it all adds to the dreadful flavor this movie brings that I haven’t really felt from a movie before. Boy, is this an experience if you’re open to it. And I don’t think I’ll shake this feeling soon.

If you are into symbollic shit and want a movie where you can really lose track of time in, (I watched it while half awake and it was like a lucid dream) I recommend it. Think of the opposite of The Avengers and if that sounds horrible to you, don’t watch, you’ll hate it and think it’s some artsy-fartsy bullshit. Just being real here.

‘A Ghost Story’ with it’s thriller-like name is ironically one of the most romantic/saddest things I’ve ever seen.

+ Bonus point: the main character is a person in a sheet. C’mon.

++ Bonus point: This fucking epic soundtrack.

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

- Gifted (2017) - Dir Marc Webb

Mary Adler: “He's a good person. He wanted me before I was smart.“

Genre: Drama, Family

Trailer (Safe to watch)

---

A young girl is gifted/cursed by being way ahead of everyone her age in intellect, something that runs in the family, and her uncle tries to give her a normal life, a happy life, a life any kid deserves by making friends and whatnot, while others think she deserves and is created for ‘more’.

This one struck me harder than I thought because it started relatively sweet, but then adults got involved and made everything difficult. Near the end I had to burry my face in a blanket to stop my crying because it got a little too close to home (not that I’m a genius or know at all how horrible it would be like to be ‘gifted’ like that, but some scenes are things anybody can relate to, really.)

Anybody has felt like the ‘odd one out’ at some point, and the unfairness of how you are treated when you are slightly different and how people jump onto that opportunity like vultures just struck such a cord with me. The child actress is absolutely brilliant, the best I’ve seen in a while, I generally wanted to jump through the screen to hug her because for a second I thought she wasn’t acting, that’s how good she is.

+ Bonus point: A one eyed cat becomes a major plot point.

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- Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri - dir Martin McDonagh

Mildred Hayes: “This didn't put an end to shit, you fucking retard; this is just the fucking start. Why don't you put that on your ‘Good Morning Missouri fucking wake up’ broadcast, bitch?“

Genre: Drama, Black Comedy

Trailer (safe to watch)

---

(If you don’t like cursing look away now. Personally, concidering the circumstances of this poor mother’s rage, I think it’s entirely justified.)

A mother who recently lost her daughter by a horrific murder tries to stirr up her small community and the insanely lazy police force to finally do something, and look for the perpetrator, who is still out there.

I love black humor, but this one was very, very... black. I don’t know how you can be so funny and yet deal with such horrific things at the same time, but they pulled it off so, so well.

In a matter of minutes you feel like you are part of this little town and you get just as frustrated as any and every character on the screen, they are all written so well, it’s as if you’ve known them for years. It was so easy to get into the whole story.

Just after five minutes it’s impossible to stop watching. The lead character ( Frances McDormand ) is just simply amazing, I think she was nominated last year too and I can see why. I’m not a mother, but I could feel her heartbreak every second.

+ Bonus Point: No unecessary stupid romantic bullshit, congrats Hollywood, slowly you’re learning and realise that when you see a man and a woman they can be friends.

++ Bonus Point: same director of ‘In Bruges’ and ‘Seven Psychopaths’ so I feel like a fish stuck on a bait already because I adore those movies, but heh... I am happy to be captured once again. I LOVE him.

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

- Triangle (2009) - Dir Christopher Smith

????: - IF. THEY. BOARD. KILL. THEM. -

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Trailer (I really recommend you don’t watch this one)

---

I can’t really explain short what this... this... thing is without spoiling anything. Some attractive people straight out of glamour magazines get shipwrecked on their out of a magazine yacht and they get onto another ship. If I say more I ruin all the fun.

I think this might actually be my favorite out of the ones I saw because I remember sitting for an hour straight with a hand covering my mouth with how insane it was. I didn’t know what to believe for a long, long time.

The beginning is such a false representation of what’s to come, and I remember trying to begin watching it years back but I fell for their trick and quit. Now I’ve seen all of it it’s actually up there with some of my favorite psychological thrillers, and I’ve seen ALOT.

But, like I said before, you honestly can’t talk about anything without spoiling it, so don’t even look up the ratings or trailer or synopsis. Just trust me, I went into this knowing nothing and I was never more grateful. (Though know you’ll need a strong stomach at times because there is unexpected blood and gore.)

+ Bonus point: UGH it kills me not being able to tell how brilliant the end is. But yes. The end. And all the crazy foreshadowing.

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INTERLUDE

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The Void - Steven Kostanski and Jeremy Gillespie

Genre: Horror, mystery, something someth-

trailer

---

HAHA I’m just kidding, this was excruciating. Please don’t see it. I’m sorry but they should be punished for this so I had to include. If you want to have a good laugh though, be my guest. So much potentional, so much promise of a different layer of fear, and it goes absolutely nowhere and it’s so sad. It’s not like I’m stupid and just ‘don’t get it’, there is nothing to get. I don’t think the writers even knew what they were getting at.

I sound so mean, but I am mean because I was robbed of my time.

Yes, yes... they did a good portrayal of Hell. But ironically Hell was sitting through this movie. After seeing ‘Triangle’, a movie that ACTUALLY portays Hell well in my opinion, this is just... amazingly bad. Good special effects can’t save this movie for the life of it.

(I wanted an interlude because making this is pretty draining.)

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END INTERLUDE

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- A Simple Plan (1998) - Sam Raimi

“Sometimes good people do evil things. Four million dollars and plenty of change. They've worked hard all their lives, but they still can't afford the American Dream. Stealing it is even better.”

“Do you ever feel evil?”

Genre: Crime, Suspense

Trailer (safe to watch)

---

Three dudes find a bag of 4 million dollars. Sounds like a slam dunk to me, but it isn’t easy at all because a ton of problems come with it. Who did it actually belong to, is it morally right to keep it, what if the police is after it, does it mean you’re stealing...? What if money corrupts and friendships aren’t like they seem to be and how far will you go to keep it?

This one is straight out of the Coen’s brothers directory, but I’ve looked and I don’t think they have any affiliation with it. Anyway, it’s sooooo reminiscent of Fargo with the set and tone and everything, I honestly thought they had something to do with it. If you’re familliar with Fargo, you’ll absolutely adore this one.

It’s such a dreadful but such a true tale about how people can act ‘differently’ once given an opportunity. You might end up thinking ‘I would never do that’, but... wouldn’t you? You’ve never been in the place of these characters and it’s impossible to imagne, and seeing the true nature of how abhorent you truly can be, can be confrontational.

Everything you try to do leads to more complications, and it’s hard to imagne where you’d say ‘no, enough is enough’.

It’s not an easy watch because it’s way too true but I adore it.

+ Bonus point: Billy Bob Thornton. If you’re not familliar, get on it. He’s amazing, always.

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

Isle of Dogs - Wes Anderson

Oracle: It may snow tonight.

Boss: Really? Thank you very much, wow.

Oracle: To whom it may concern.

Boss: She sees the future!

King: Ha! No. She understands TV.

Trailer (safe to watch)

---

In a dystopian near-future Japan, dogs have become a menace because of some dog-flu virus, so they all get deported to a seperate island. But there are conspiracies flowing around, vaccinations being made, and the dogs do whatever they can to stay alive on this god forsaken island of trash.

I never liked dogs, sue me. But for some reason I KNEW this was going to be an experience so I bought a ticket, and holy crap was it worth it. Every single frame is a piece of art. Every. Single. One. (I want an artbook for this movie. Or a poster. Just... ANYTHING because it’s sugar to my eyes.)

I was so overwhelmed with how gorgeous it was, it was hard to concentrate sometimes, but I walked out with such a huge smile that lasted for days. The humor is on-point and yet so dry, just enough to pull you out of that overwhelmed trance. You end up caring for each and every one of the dogs because they are all perfectly rounded characters, better written characters than you see in humans sometimes. It’s mindblowing. The voice acting is perfectly cast and... Just. This movie is a dessert, something we don’t deserve but we got it anyway.

+ Bonus Point: Edward Norton voice acting. I am in love with his voice.

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

WELL. I’ll make another one sooner than I thought because I have so many more to share, but honestly making these posts is a task (a lovely one though) but I have life duties. I didn’t even get to share my favorite ones yet, so stay tuned (nobody will read this but whatever)

#Movies #film #isle of dogs #a ghost story #a simple plan #triangle #three billboards outside ebbing missouri #gifted #the void #me ranting #movie reviews #cinephile #life

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perpetually-jungshook · 7 years ago

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Without You: Bloodstone (Part 22)

Genre: AU, bts!werewolf, fantasy, angst

Warnings: language, violence, suggestive content

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Werewolves, contrary to popular belief, are usually gentle creatures. Except for a very specific set of circumstances, they would never hurt a human (on purpose). The few unfortunate times when mistakes were made put a permanent dark mark on the beasts and people began labeling them as monsters. What the human population failed to recognize was the fact that they were protecting us from something much more sinister. Luckily, a few survived and the gene was passed down hereditarily until one day finding its way to me… in the form of my best friend.

Loyalty is often as blind as justice should be, as unstable as a lightning storm ought to be, and as misplaced as an opinion in the truth.

Chapter 22:

As soon as Munhee brings most of my personal effects from Jungkook’s room, I manage to take a shower and wash away some of the dirt and dried blood. The small rivulets of discolored water inevitably draw my attention to my arm. I can’t help but stare at the dark marks that penetrate my skin, knotted scar tissue, mapping the places I’d been torn open by his teeth. I reach up, delicately tracing my finger tip across the unnatural dips and rises. I can’t feel myself touching them, but for some reason, the flesh around the marks is sensitive enough to make me shiver.

Half of me wants to sleep, the other half can’t seem to settle down.

I shut off the water and take my time drying myself and getting dressed. I have nowhere to be, after all. My only job right now is to wait. Maybe I can practice some magic.

Rolling onto the newly made bed, my limbs feeling like they’re stuffed full of those… oh what are they… the little things bean bag chairs. Micro beads? Foam pellets? Why am I focusing on this? I groan and turn onto my side, letting my hand fall open so my palm faces up.

The green flame flickers to life and slowly spreads, dancing almost lazily. Probably tiredly.

I wish Munhee would teach me something other than revelation magic. An image of the white flame conjures behind my eyelids. No. That probably won’t come for years. Munhee was exhausted after using it for mere seconds. I can’t even imagine how much energy that might have taken. The pink flame I’d seen earlier comes to mind. Medicinal magic? She’d used those flowers… Calendulas? Maybe the stones and herbs make different colors. Or would they all be pink? I smile at the thought. At least this is keeping my mind off of-

Thud.

I sit up, attention darting to the opposite wall. That has to be Jimin. But what is he doing? Throwing himself against it? I wait and listen to the quiet, disturbed only by the white noise of the vent circulating cold air and the rhythmic sound of water dripping.

I can’t help but think of Jungkook when we were first brought down to the bunker, chained up to the wall. Jimin is an older werewolf, so he would have more control. But does the second imprint cause wolves to revert back to that feral desperation?

Curiosity gets the better of me and I force myself to stand up.

The door isn’t locked, and this fact causes me to feel a bit safer. Munhee didn’t feel the need to segregate me completely. Or trap me. The thought is unwelcome so I push it aside in favor of slowly making my way down the hall to the next door.

It’s eerily quiet, but not the chill inducing silence that surrounds a demon. Maybe everyone is outside.

Thud.

Jumping back in surprise, my shoulder hits the concrete wall. That had sounded a lot closer than I thought it would. Maybe Jimin isn’t actually restrained. Or worse, maybe he had been restrained and broke free.

For a moment, I consider returning to Jungk- to my new room. I’m playing with fire. But then again, I do that all the time.

“Jimin?” I whisper, slowly pushing myself away from the wall.

He can probably hear me, wolf form or not, but there’s a pause. A long one.

“Eun,” I recognize his voice immediately, though it’s severely muffled and subtly hoarse. “Open the door.”

My eyebrows knit.

“Why can’t you open it?”

Obviously, it’s locked. Otherwise he wouldn’t have asked. Well, he didn’t ask. He demanded. I take a deep breath, trying to quell the resentment that’s growing in my chest. I want to say there’s some sort of explanation for his behavior besides selfishness, but no answer seems adequate for mauling me, for treating me like this.

“Open the door.”

My heart aches and my injured arm seems to throb. I’m not sure if it’s some kind of supernatural, intimate bond connection to Jimin’s frustration or if it’s in my head. Whatever the case, I’m tired of letting him walk all over me. He’s not Jungkook. He’s not my friend.

“Give me one good reason,” I say, tone hopefully firm.

There’s another pause, then a soft whimper. He transformed.

“Jimin.”

Thud.

The scratching is quiet at first, but grows in volume and desperation. I look down the hall again and, finding no one, step closer to the wall, leaning against it.

“Calm down. Tell me why you want me to open the door.”

A few seconds pass and I’m surprised to hear his voice, “I need to see you. Please.”

I’m an idiot. A blind, trusting, only-sees-the-good-in-everyone idiot. I could leave the bunker. I could go back to my room. I could wait for Munhee. But no. My throat pinches as I pick what must be the stupidest option available. I walk over to the door, turn the deadbolt, and open it.

It takes a few seconds for me to realize I’m not being mauled or tackled or attacked. My body relaxes out of its tense flinch. Until I see Jimin.

His clothes are shredded, body visibly trembling, skin painted in various shades of reds and purples, and for the first time I see in his eyes something that isn’t disgust, anger, or hate- though I can’t quite place a name to the emotion. The corners of Jimin’s lips twitch up in the ghost of a smile.

“Hi,” his voice cracks.

“Hi.”

What quality dialogue. I sigh and lean against the door frame, half exhausted, half trying to hide myself behind it. Why do I keep giving into them? First Jungkook and now Jimin. At least Jungkook only wanted to protect me. I have no idea what Jimin’s intentions are.

The boy with the coffee colored hair takes abruptly step forward, making me shrink back.

“Stay where you are,” there’s authority in my voice, the same type I used with Jungkook when we were training. If Jimin has imprinted on me, it would only make sense that he would listen, right? Wrong.

Jimin continues forward as if I hadn’t even said anything. He stops just before the invisible line I’d set subconsciously that would’ve caused me to slam and lock the door. Leaning heavily against the wall for support, his gaze never leaves mine.

“Munhee doesn’t know your here. Does she,” it’s less of a question than a statement and makes me want to grimace.

Of course he won’t ask if I’m alright. Why would I expect that from someone like him?

“No, she doesn’t.”

Jimin lifts his hand as if he’s going to touch my face, but I back up immediately, retreating into the hallway. I don’t have time to close the door. Jimin steps past it without a second thought, his arm resting on the doorframe, still supporting himself. There’s a slight sway in the way he’s standing. An unbalance.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” his voice is just a whisper as his eyebrows knit, not in confusion but concentration.

“That’s a lie,” my heartbeat starts to thrum in my ears. “You bit me.”

Jimin visibly stiffens, “It was an accident.”

“Werewolves don’t bite humans on accident. Not even when they’re feral.”

“Okay, you’re right but-”

I search Jimin’s expression for something I’ve never been able to find. Remorse? Guilt? I interrupt him, “There’s nothing you can say that’ll change what you did. I’m sure you know exactly what the consequences are.”

He swallows audibly, “Yeah.”

“That’s all you have to say?” the words slip out before I can stop them.

Jimin’s gaze drops to the floor, lips pursing subtly, “What else do you want from me?”

“An apology,” at this point, I’ve given up all forms of honorifics and pleasantries with him, but I try to keep the spite out of my tone, instead using breathy exasperation. Out of all the things he’s done, at the very least I want to think he’s sorry about it.

Jimin says nothing.

The sound of air blowing from the ventilation system and a distant dripping of water are unsettlingly loud.

“So that’s that then,” I sigh, chest aching. “You can’t even give me that much.”

“I’m not going to pretend to regret something.”

“But you’ll lie about doing it on purpose.”

Jimin takes a shaky breath, reaching up to push his hair back, away from his eyes, “I’m sorry. There.”

“You don’t mean it.”

His upper lip twitches in what I can only assume is annoyance, “So you want me to apologize, but the one I give you isn’t enough?”

I’m about to respond, but Jimin’s attention flicks sideways, causing me to look as well. One of the mistletoe double doors opens and Munhee enters. She sees us immediately, her expression contorting in anger, “What are you doing out?”

There’s no confusion who she’s addressing. Jimin pushes himself off of the door frame, whole body suddenly rigid. A low growl claws up his throat, “You locked me in my fucking room.”

Munhee quickly looks me up and down, assessing the situation, probably searching for injuries. Her tone is tart and as she bends down to adjust her boot, I see the glint of the sliver knife. She slips the weapon into her sleeve. There’s no way Jimin didn’t see it too.

“I was afraid you’d do something to Eun.”

“Does it look like I hurt her?”

Munhee pauses as if she’s confused, a small crease forming between her eyebrows, “Is that supposed to be a trick question? You bit her. Now get back in your room so I can clean up the mess you made. Again.”

I glance at Jimin and almost feel bad. She’s practically openly threatening him with a knife. For the boy with the coffee colored hair, this place seems to be as much of a prison as I originally feared it would be for Jungkook and me. His gaze meets mine for a moment before he, without further protest, returns to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Munhee relaxes, the point of the knife appearing behind the hem of her sleeve before she bends down to place it back in her shoe. At first, I expect some kind of lecture about letting Jimin out. I also expect her to lock the door again. But she does neither of these things, instead pulling some crumpled yellow flowers from her pocket.

“Go sit down on your bed. I’m going to try to get rid of more of that scar tissue.”

“Thank you,” I give her a polite bow before she leads the way into my room.

I try to get comfortable with my back against the wall, letting my arm rest in Munhee’s lap. She sits beside me, examining the scars. The flowers are resting in a pile on her thigh, all but one, which she crushes in her hand. The pink flame blossoms and she presses it against my forearm.

“Is that healing magic?”

“Sort of,” Munhee sounds less aloof than distracted, but both tones are present. “Think of it more like a reaction. I’m sure you’ve read about it somewhere, but magic can be classified into five main types. Revelation, sigil, reactive, summoning, and dissipative. Any ‘spell,’ ‘potion,’ or whatever other term you want to label it… they’re all a mix of these categories.”

“Do all of them look like fire?”

“No, dissipative and summoning magic show in the eyes. It’s why wolves’ eyes turn yellow when they’re feral.”

I’m a bit surprised, “But wait, you said werewolves weren’t magic like… what we practice.”

“That’s true. The wolf part of their bodies is something that we can’t do- transformation, but their mind, the feral part, the spirit, is summoning magic.”

Well huh. That makes sense.

I’m about to ask another question when a knock on the door interrupts me. Munhee stiffens, the pink flame extinguishing, “Jimin, I fucking swear-”

“Noona?”

The voice makes me perk up. Jungkook?

Munhee relaxes again, but looks a little more tired than before, “You okay?”

“Yeah… may I speak to Eun?”

My heart flutters with a strange mix of nervous anticipation and excitement.

“You know what Jimin will do if he finds out you’re here right?”

“Yes.”

Munhee looks down at my arm. The scar tissue is less pronounced, not as dark and angry, and I begin to wonder if she’ll eventually be able to make it disappear altogether. She picks up the flowers, dropping them carefully in her pocket again.

“Alright, I’m sure you two have some stuff to talk about. I’ll be down the hall in the living room if you need me,” she excuses herself, opening the door and stepping aside to let Jungkook in. His eyes immediately flick around the room as if looking for immediate danger. Then they settle on me and he softens.

He bends into a deep bow as the door closes, leaving us alone, “Eun-ssi, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

Jungkook never uses that honorific with me, unless he feels he’s made an unacceptable error. My heart hurts, chest pinching tightly. I want to get up and comfort him, but something about the action seems out of place.

“It’s okay, Kookie,” I give him my best, most reassuring smile. “I’m alright see?”

I hold up my arm.

“No bleeding. I’ll probably be a little bruised but-”

“It’s not just that though,” Jungkook stays an uncomfortably large distance away, considering we’ve spent the last couple months sleeping in the same bed with him practically wrapped around me. He seems to choke on his words for a moment, black hair falling in front of his eyes as he hangs his head. “I loved you.”

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

A/N: HECK YES. Bloodstone is back. Hopefully I’ll be posting with more regularity now that I’ll no longer be working. Thanks for reading~

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#without you: bloodstone #bloodstone #bts fanfic #bts angst #jimin fanfic #jimin #jimin angst #werewolf jimin #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkook angst #werewolf jungkook

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stilinski-jpeg · 8 years ago

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Assassin: Chapter 6

A/N: Guys, I did not edit this but only so I could get this up tonight ! I will edit it in the morning, so I really hope this makes sense until then. Thank you to all the people that helped me with this fic, I’m far too tired to tag them but they know who they are. Sorry for the late post. Goodnight ❤️❤️

Warnings: I honestly dont know ran. Could be triggering, and there's smut

Word Count: 5455

The Whole Series : [here]

Mitch was almost catatonic as he stared blankly across the finely finished wooden desk at the wall adorned with framed doctorate degrees and accolades. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there or how even he’d found himself in there, but his mind was so overwhelmed with thoughts that he didn’t even really think about the reason. Mitch had been in his line of work for a very long time. Killing bad people was his hobby and his job, and he liked it. It kept his mind off of all the things that were now flooding in his brain.

Somehow, he proved to be unable to save the people he loved. First his supposed-to-be fiancé was murdered by terrorists. Which landed him in his current line of work, everyday he was alive just to inform her. But when she came into his life, he didn't know he could even have that same feeling again.

Although she was laying in a bed just a few doors down the hall, it did little to comfort him. He knew she was still hurting, he heard her screaming almost every night since they brought her there. Every time, he would catapult out of bed and run down the hall to her. Mitch knew that did little to comfort her, but he wasn't sure what else he could do. His heart ached when thinking about her, thinking about how long it took him to save her, thinking about what they did to her.

A week into her being taken, Mitch knew where she was. They all did, but the CIA was completely against him going in with the risk of losing the both of them. No matter how much he raved and ranted, they wouldn’t go in. The day he got the “okay”, he was packed and ready to go; determined to save her that minute.

“Rapp!” Herley’s loud voice boomed into the small room, interrupting his thoughts. Mitch could tell by his tone that he was angry, but couldn’t care less about what exactly. Mitch didn’t move, he didn’t respond. He just stayed fixated on the wall opposite of him.

“What the hell are you doing in here? We had a briefing with the attorney general forty five minutes ago and you were supposed to be there to give your report, and I find you sitting here looking at the wall!” He yelled, standing right next to Mitch who still didn’t look at him.

“You can sit here and mope around like a chump just because your girlfriend was taken hostage.” He barked again, this time giving Mitch a slight push.

Normally, Mitch would be completely pissed off at this point and it would end up in a brawl between the two. But he couldn’t right now, he couldn’t give in to the unorthodox tactics of Stan Hurley. So he didn’t respond, choosing to ignore the old man instead. Which only fueled the fire that Stan had been building inside him since he walked out of the meeting. He bent down, grabbed the collar of Mitch’s shirt and lifted him until he was eye level with him.

“You are one sad son of a bitch.” He growled at Mitch, who’d had enough of Stan for one night.

Rapp placed his hands over Stan’s and pried them off of him, his eyes staring dangerously into the old man’s. Stan kept the eye contact, but didn’t fight back when Mitch finally pulled his hands away and began to walking away.

“They’re not going to stop until they have her, Rapp. And next time you might not be able to save her.” Stan called out after him.

Something fierce erupted within Mitch’s body at Stan’s words. A small part of him knew that the old spy was right, that she could be taken again and that even if he found her next time, she might not be alive. But a greater part of him knew, that he’d never let that happen again.

“There won’t be a next time.” Mitch rasped, before slipping out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I’m cold, colder than I remember being when I fell asleep. I'm curled in a ball on the floor, the hard cement cutting into my cheek as I lay pressed against it. My eyes are shut, but I know where I am. I know I'm in the room, I know I’m not safe. I start to shake knowing any second Victor and Bates would be back to inflict some new form of inhuman torture on me. I curl into myself further, shivering as the cold thought crept up my back. A loud noise, the sound of a lock unlatching maybe, echoed into the room. I could hear them coming into the room, their footsteps so loud the closer they came... it was almost deafening. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out, no one can hear me anyway.

My throat was throbbing, a scorching hot burn filled it and I didn't know where the fire was coming from. My eyes stung, making fast tears stream down my face. I wasn’t sure what was happening until I felt warm arms, hard around my waist forcing me to an equally warm body, that I realized I was screaming. I never remembered starting to scream, I only remember the terrifying images of the two large men in dark uniforms coming towards me and an unprecedented fear rocking through my body.

I fought off the arms around me, screaming for them to get off me, to not touch me. Mitch’s gruff voice rang in my ears, snapping me out of my fit. I gasped loudly, looking up and meeting Mitch’s soft brown eyes. I turned into his body, sobbing wildly into his shirt as he hushed me tentatively; smoothing my hair back out of my face.

“You’re not there.” He reminded me. “They can’t hurt you.”

I tired to respond but, every time I opened my mouth, an even louder sob would pour out of my lips. Mitch only held me tighter, kissing my head softly. It took several minutes for me to calm down, my eyes aching from the amount of crying I’d done.

“I’m sorry.” I choked out.

“Sorry?” He questioned, pulling me back slightly so he could look down at me. “For what?”

“For making you come in here every night.” I said simply, surprised that it wasn’t more obvious.

He chuckled halfheartedly, “You’re not making me do anything. I want to be here for you… because I couldn’t be before.”

His face fell fractionally, guilt filling his eyes. My stomach turned as I watched the war inside of him rage on. It took several days of seeing him for me to realize I wasn’t dreaming. But he was different than I’d remembered him. It’d been a month since I’d seen him last and it has been hard on the both of us; he walked differently— talked differently even. I couldn’t understand it at first. I thought that my trauma had made me more aware of my surroundings and, in that, of the people I thought I knew, But when I heard Stan yelling at Mitch one night about moping around, because he couldn’t save me; I finally understood. I’ve only known vaguely of Mitch’s past relationship. But whatever happened to her, I know he hated himself for it. My capturing brought forth all the suppressed feelings he’d been harbouring for God knows how long.

“You don’t have to, Mitch.” I whispered, bowing my head. I didn’t want to be the reason he didn’t get sleep at night.

He lifted my chin, our eyes meeting again. “There’s nowhere in the world I want to be more than right here, with you.”

I gave him a small smile, my gaze fleeting to his lips before catching myself and focusing back on his eyes. He smiled and it warmed my body, deliciously. The feeling, however, turned to complete dread at the thought of him seeing my body, let alone touching it. Being captured had done a number on me, mentally but also physically. My body was covered in scars and bruises, virtually from head to toe. I’d been destroyed, desecrated. I hardly recognized my own body with how damaged it was. I cringed at the thought of him running his hands over all the ugly that was left there.

I nuzzled my head into his chest, effectively ending the sexual tension I had created. After what I'd been through the last thing I wanted was to have sex, but God did I want Mitch. He chuckled, but he maneuvered himself better on the bed to be more comfortable and held me. We laid like that for awhile, the silence only being broken by our breathing.

“I don’t want to be helpless again.” I said into his chest.

He hummed as if barely conscious, rustling slightly before resting his head on top of mine. I wasn't sure if he was awake or not, I couldn't wake him again just to vent. He’s done enough for me and the least I could do was let him sleep. But my mind wouldn’t settle, I couldn’t get that thought out of my head. I don’t want to be helpless again.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, but I wasn’t sure when or for how long. Yet, it didn’t stop me from waking up in a fit of quiet, hiccuping sobs and tears again. This time I was quiet enough not to disturb the slumbering man wrapped around me. Unwrapping Mitch’s arms from the tight grip they had on me, I rolled out of the bed, shivering as I left his body heat and realizing how cold it was in here.

I'd been wearing the long shirt around my body since I was first brought to the house we were in. I took such a long shower that the water began to run cold, but I didn't care. I wanted the whole experience to wash off me and flow down the drain. I’d been wearing the shirt to sleep in for so long that it was stained with my tears, and I almost wanted to chastise myself for it. Deciding to give myself a break, I shrugged the item off and pulling a big jumper from where it was slung over a chair. I instantly smelled the scent of a familiar cologne, as it filled my nose. I smiled slightly, letting the sleeves fall over my hands and lifting them to my nose.

The room was filled with Mitch's soft snores as he slept peacefully on my bed. I envied him for being able to sleep so soundly, knowing that it would be a long time before I found that again; if ever. I peered through around the room, making out what I could in the dull light. I quickly became frustrated with the lack of light that was being cast into the room and looked to see where it was coming from anyways. When I reached the door, I noticed the light from the hallway slipped through the underneath of it, warm and yellow. I hadn't noticed it until now, but for the first time ever I wondered what was on the other side of the door. Furthermore what the rest of the placed that I had been living for weeks now looked like.

I walked over to the door and pulling it open, the light blinded me instantly. I cover my eyes with the back of my hand, letting myself against. It wasn't much, just a long corridor with several doors. But it was more than I'd seen in a long time so I decided to take a walk around the place where we’d been staying. I made a venture through almost every room three times. There was a library with books that were to mind numbing to keep my attention, a study that looks hardly touch, a few empty bedrooms, and a bathroom. It wasn't much and I was rather unimpressed with the whole place, not really sure what I'd really expected. I almost decided to crawl back into bed with Mitch, allowing his arms to engulf me again even though I knew I'd probably lay awake from or the rest of the night. But my eyes locked onto another door down the hall that I hadn’t noticed before. I wasn't sure how I'd missed it, but chose to take a look before retiring to me bed.

Letting my hand land on the knob, I twisted and stepped forwards, not expecting the door to be locked or my nose to collide with the solid wood. I frowned, rubbing over the sore spot and wondering just why it was locked since none of the other doors in the house were. Lucky for me, my dad had taught me how to pick simple locks like this and I grinned, pulled out a bobby pin from my hair as strands of hair fell out. I turned heading back to the study I'd been in earlier and rifling through the drawers until I found a paper clip. I smiled at the small piece of metal and padded back to the locked door and kneeling in front of it.

Soon enough, the satisfying click of a door sounded softly and I pinned the clip back in my hair, pushing the door open and stepping inside the room. I let the door fall close behind, barely noticing when it didn't shut all the way. I searched the wall near the door for a light switch before finding it and flicking it light on. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the white fluorescent light before they widened, processing what lined the walls. Rows and rows of different guns hung on like artwork. An armoury much more advanced than the one my father had ever owned, adorning the walls.

Adrenaline surged my veins as a new sense of safety, one I hadn’t felt since before the incident, flooded me. I swallowed thickly, letting my fingers brush over the hard metals with varying textures and grips. I stopped in front of a small handgun, reaching out to take it from the wall. I turned the object over and over in my hands, glancing up, looking around, almost like I was going to be caught somewhere I shouldn't be (which I probably was).

I looked up, letting my eyes roam around the room again. They landed on a neatly hung collection of firing headphones, which sparked my intrigue. I took a step over to them eyeing the closely, furrowing my brow again. It was strange to have the headphones without a range to use them at. I glanced around again, the gun still in hand, more thoroughly this time.

Yet another door I’d failed to notice stood slightly ajar, almost inviting me to go through to it. I knew already what lie beyond it, before I ever pushed it open. But it still surprised me when a single man firing range was displayed before me. I smiled, feeling a strong sense of confidence resonate within me. It was like a message from god. And I took it, turning back to the first room for a pair of headphones that I slipped onto my ears. Upon seeing it, I grabbed a round of ammunition and practically skipped back to the room with the firing range. I loaded the gun just like my dad had taught me, making to double check that the safety was on until I was ready to fire. I noticed a pair of discarded glasses, I quickly picked them up and pushed them onto my face.

The confidence that had once surged through me was quickly dwindling as I took a nervous step towards the booth, aiming for the previously punctured and well-worn out target. Clicking the safety off the gun, I raised it up with both hands sealed around it tightly. I took a deep breath, calming my nerves and remembering that despite not wanting too, I was to keep both eyes open and focus through the lens. I remembered how my dad used to laugh wildly at me when ever we went hunting and I shut my eyes to fire.

’That'll never do in a gunfight, love.’ He'd chuckle.

My finger was trembling on the trigger and I tried my hardest to stilled them. I took another deep breath before clenching around it tightly and letting the resounding shot ring out through the room, tearing into the outer edge of the target.

I wasn’t, however, expecting the kick back, the weapon jumping backwards in my arms the blunt end hitting my cheekbone and sending my body stumbling backward as I barely caught myself from falling. I cursed under my breath as I felt strong pair of arms wrapped around my waist to stop me from stumbling back any further. A chuckle was pressed into my neck, stubble tickling my skin. “Damn, I didn’t think you’d fall for me that quick.” He teased and I slapped his arm, pouting aimlessly as my eyebrows furrowed. I pulled the headphones, narrowing my eyes at him. He let me go so I could face him easier.

“Don’t tease me. I didn’t know the kickback would be that strong.” He didn’t stop snickering, the soft sounds filling the air and it was nice to see the usual apparent creases on his forehead gone as he smiled with me.

“Good thing I’d be the one aiming between the two of us.” He winked and I felt my face heat up, his hand cupping my jaw, thumb running over the sensitive patch where I’d injured myself. The smile fell from his face, replaced by a frown. A sad frown though, not the usual defensive one he normally held. No, this one was full of sorrow with a hint of worry.

“That’s going to be a nasty bruise.” He mumbled, letting his lips brush over my forehead delicately, hand threading into my hair and pulling me into a hug, my face pressed to his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, my face will be as ugly as the rest of my body then. It’ll match.” I sighed, my hands finding a place on his hips and he pulled away. He eyes were sad, matching his sad frown and his jaw set as he looked at me.

“But, you’re beautiful.”

The comment caught me off guard as a slew of emotions hit me all roughly at the same time. I wanted to blush, but also wanted to yell at him for lying to me. I knew my new body was anything but beautiful. What I wasn't sure of was whether he thought so or not. I looked into his eyes, looking for any trace of doubt in them. I found none which was more frustrating than if I'd found any at all. Mitch was quickly becoming a conundrum that I couldn't figure out. Which made me pleasantly cautious of him.

He had a ghost of a smile playing on his lips when I disconnected from my thoughts. I didn't dare ask why, so pulled away from and returned back to the booth. I needed this, I needed to be a better shot. I felt safe knowing I had the gun in my hand. But after what happened, I was too shaky to use it anymore. I pulled my headphones back on, lifting the gun once again.

I was startled when I felt Mitch’s lean body pressed against mine, had it been literally anyone else I would have turned and aim the gun right in there face. But Mitch had some sort of hold over me, that prevented me from not trusting him. It stemmed all the way back to when we first met, this overwhelming sense of familiarity coming over me as our eyes caught one another's.

I think that's the reason we'd come so far. It was way, although batter and bruised, I was able to maintain a sliver of hope when captured by an enemy that wasn't mine. I felt safe with Mitch Rapp, a kind of safe I hadn't felt since before my father died.

His arms reached up, laying themselves over mine that were still extended outwards. He slightly adjusted my positioning of the gun as well my grip on it. “You want to keep it straight, like this” he showed me, his words tickling my ear.

“And you need to stand like this.” He ordered, removing his hands from mine and placing them on my waist as he set his foot in between both of mine and tapped them until they were separated at his desired spacing.

I felt my core ignite at his touch, the warmth of his hand radiating through my jumper. I tried to ignore the sensations, not sure if I was ready to head down that path. Although, I definitely wanted too.

“Now,” he said, his face back next to mine. “You have to know your target, but that's not where you shoot.”

I did my best to focus on his words, but his lips moving so close to me mixed with the occasional scraping for his beard sent the most beautiful jolt through my body. I was confused by the way my body seemed to so easily respond to him.

“Then you fire. Got it?” He finished and I cursed myself for not paying better attention.

“Think so?” I said, my bewilderment evident.

He chuckled, the noise welcoming, releasing one of my hips of his hands and setting it underneath my arm to keep it straight. “Just breathe, aim, and shoot. In that order.”

I nodded, looking down the line of sight of the pistol at the abused target. I felt my palms begin to sweat and my finger uneasy on the trigger. I was never afraid of anything, but suddenly the target turned into Victor or Bates. They're angry eyes fixated on me, setting my nerves on edge.

“Breathe, aim, shoot. You got this.” He reassured me, his voice abruptly bringing back to the present.

I took his words in. Taking a deep calming breath, I aimed for the target (specifically at the center of the head), and finally, without a sending thought, I pulled the trigger back. The bullet dislodged from the chamber, shooting out towards the target. The kickback was expected this time and I was able to bring it back down quickly. I tore off my safety glasses eager to see where the bullet had landed.

I smiled when I saw that I had hit, just off center, of where I wanted to hit. It wasn't perfect, but I didn't miss and that's all I cared about. I pulled off my headphones placing them and the gun down on ledge of the booth before turning in Mitch’s arm, drawing him into a big hug.

“Oh my god! I fucking hit it! Holy shit! Thank you!” I squealed with such utter excitement I was practically jumping in his arms. He let a laugh roll out of his chest, as he hugged me back.

I pulled back slightly from him, a big smile plastered on his face. The one on his, however, was one of contentment. Like the sheer thought that he had made me happy was enough for him. And maybe it was the over amount of joy I felt for my small victory or maybe it was the feelings I kept swallowing every time I was around Mitch, but either way I didn't stop myself when I pushed my head forward colliding his lips with mine.

We stumbled into my room, the door banging off the wall, as we tore article of clothing one after the other from each other. Our lips somehow never disconnected, which lead to a lot of bumping into everything on our way to my room. It was when he went to pull off my jumper, that I stopped him. Pulling out of our kiss, my stomach turning.

He was left in just his jeans that hung open, letting his dark blue boxer briefs peek through. He looked down at me his eyes searching my face intently. I bit down on my lip, pulling up the collar of the jumper higher on my neck. He understood instantly, brushing the back of his hand against my cheek.

“We don't have to- I just want you to be comfortable.” He said softly, tucking my hair behind my ear.

Truth was, I was comfortable with him. I only felt normal when he was with me. But the fear of him touching me, the bare me, the one that hardly anyone had seen and not even I had touched; made me feel sick. But I couldn't stop the feeling between my legs that ached with Mitch standing in front of me half naked, staring down at me with those gorgeous brown eyes.

“Can we go slow?” I said finally, swallowing thickly at my own words and turning my gaze bashfully to the floor.

He pulled me into a hung, pressing his lips to my forehead and holding me there for a long minute before speaking. “We can do whatever you want.”

I exhaled, relaxing for what felt like the first time in forever. Mitch walked over to the open door and closed it, ending the light provided from the hallway and cloaking the room in darkness. It was quiet for awhile as our eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“You sure you want to do this?” Mitch asked his voice coming from behind me. A second later, his warm presence apparent as his front met my back. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his words ringing sweetly in my ear.

I nodded, nerves preventing me from speaking. But I mustered up enough courage to pull off my only remaining piece of clothing, my jumper, and letting it fall to the floor. I could feel Mitch's chest muscles perfectly now against my back, lean and tight. He ran his hands softly down my arms, creating goosebumps as he began kissing along the crook of my neck and onto my shoulder. I sighed gently, leaning my head to the opposite side to give him better access. He wrapped his arms around my waist, schlepping me backwards toward him.

I savoured every stroke of his lips, every chafe of his stubbled face. Allowing it stir the pot of desire within me. Freed one of his hands from my waist, letting it move smoothly down past my belly button and brush against my heat. I hissed, feeling my core grow more wet at his touch.

“Please.” I whispered, not even knowing the words were going to fall out of mouth.

“Anything for you.” He hummed back in my ear before skimming his fingers between my folds and swirling them in my arousal.

I layed my head back on his shoulder as he nibbled tenderly on my ear and moved his finger skilfully in different patterns and rotations. I rolled my hips against his dexterous digits, creating a whole new friction that left my breathing uneven. I clutched on to his arms as the my climax slowly bubbling up in me.

“Mitch.” I breathed. He didn't respond, he only turned his head into mine our lips connecting and intensify my pleasure. He moved his fingers faster, while his lips moved lazily over mine and it was only a matter of time before he had me cumming all over his fingers as I moaned into our kiss.

I pulled away, giving both a second to catch our breath. I could feel how hard he was through his jeans, his erection practically begging to burst from its confinements. I snaked my hand awkwardly behind me, pulling at his jeans and boxers with one hand; wordlessly telling him I wanted them of. He detached his arms from around me, zipping his pants down the rest of the way before shimmying out of his last bit of clothing. I turned to face him, craving his lips in mine again. I heard his garments hit the floor and I seized the opportunity to push me back onto the bed. I barely saw him bounce, but I heard the springs creaking and his quiet chortle as he did.

I smiled, climbing on top of him and resting just above his pelvis using his chest for balance. Even in the dark, I could see his the glimmer in his eyes as he beamed up at me. I bent down, giving him a chaste kiss before sitting back up again. He whined, making me smile again. He curled his arm around me, lifting his body up so it was parallel to mine. I giggled at his sudden change of position, placing my legs on either side of him for better symmetry.

“Kiss me.” He murmured enticingly.

I tied my arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him once again. This was quickly becoming my favourite hobby, even if my lips were becoming more swollen with every kiss. The want for him was suddenly overwhelming and just touching him wasn't enough, I want to be as close to him as I could possibly be. I migrated one of my arms from around his neck, trailing it down his body, and reaching between us. I enveloped my hand around his length, feeling it twitch in my hand. He let out a sigh, even though our lips stayed connected as I began pumping him slowly. He hummed as I ran his tip along my sensitive bundle of nerves, before aligning it with my entrance

I moved from our kiss, readying myself for the feeling I'd been wanting for awhile now. I slide down slowly on his sex, the fullness he gave me making let out a moan I didn't even know was in me. Mitch's hands latched onto my hips, holding me at his hilt until I'd fully adjust to his size. I held onto his shoulders, squeezing and praying I wasn't hurting him by doing so. With his guidance, I began moving at an even tempo. Sliding all the way up before ploughing back down on him. He groaned, clutching my hips tighter but still allowed me to go my own pace.

It was mesmeric, the way he felt inside me. He filled me handsomely, while the sounds he uttered had me pining for more. When his lips pressed against my chest I lost it, wanton moans escaping my throat and my speed picking up almost instantaneously. I bouncing against him, hips own hips carefully starting their own rhythm. I enthralled my fingers into his hair, tugging softly on the stands at the base of his neck. This stirred something in him because he held my hips tight so I could move on him any longer and began plunging into my perfectly.

I left my head fall back as his lips attacked to my skin and his dick pushed into quickly and deeply. His own moans mixing with mine until the whole room was alive with them. This time when my orgasm collapsed on to me, I didn't see it coming. Mitch's lips were working their way back up my body towards my neck, when it happened. My walls closed in around him, tighten the space he was moving in. I clutched the stands of his hair for dear life as his name tumbled from my lips.

I couldn't be sure which one of those things had him cuming seconds after me, but he did. His warm fluids coating my walls as both of us rode out the rest of our high.

Mitch was sleeping again, his snores soft and content as his body intertwined with mine. I was enjoying the safety that he provided me. I could let my guard down without any fear that I'd be vulnerable.

But I couldn't help my thoughts as I wondered what would happen if Mitch wasn't there one day. Like he wasn't before. I came to the quick realisation that I couldn't rely on Mitch to keep me safe. Where it was nice to know he was there, at any moment he couldn't be. I wanted to be prepare for that moment. I need to be.

That's when I decide that I would stop hiding away in my room. Stop letting my dreams take hold of my life. Stop being a victim and start being a survivor. In the morning, whatever it took, I would make Mitch help me learn to survive, to be a warrior. To be what my dad had always wanted me to be;

a fighter.

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violetsystems · 7 years ago

Text

#personal

The last few Fridays I’ve been writing these sometimes I feel off. It’s been a good month of really trying to set real life goals for myself. I go to work everyday and feel pretty comfortable at my job. The atmosphere is academic and it pretty much has made me what I am today. I have a lot of respect for it and maybe only lately I feel like it recognizes who I am as a person at least. It’s still a job and it pretty much gives me the power to live however it is I do here in Chicago as lonely as it is sometimes. I still have to live here for the time being. I don’t have much faith in trying again or however you call it here. I feel like the whole last two years were a process of me giving this city another chance. And it failed so miserably I don’t want to wait for the next round of apologies. My school is international. At this point I’ve travelled all over the world with the help of my job, my benefits and my own hustle however subtle it is. I’m connected to a lot of possibility. But that being said my job is super important to me and I hold a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. Years ago when I started to slowly disconnect from certain friends and scenes I felt this utter lack of respect for what I did to pay the rent. I have a lot of love for an institution letting me be me. I only kept DJ’ing and making music because I felt like it was a fun way to network. When it gets out of my comfort zone and annoying I just walk away and focus on what keeps a roof over my head. Same with anything really. Somebody I’ve known for years made a comment about how I was “never into music to be famous.” Sometimes I forget all the ridiculous bullshit I’ve said over the years. But I still say that now. I do come here to vent because I know nobody really listens out in the real world. The last thing I want to do is have more people following me around and wanting answers to things that aren’t their business. I made the mistake of making a comment about Hugh Hefner at work. I’m not really a fan obviously. The other person who was also a dude seemed to think I was virtue signaling or something. I think he was afraid I was attacking freedom of speech. Mainly he just grumpy and wanted to argue.

Things can get really intense these days between people. I did end up going to play games down the street this week. I got there and they were playing this game called Munchkin. It’s part card game part board game. There were only five people playing two I didn’t know. I played that and magic the gathering for a couple of hours then went home. It’s a different kind of hanging out. You spend a lot of time as a group explaining rules and not talking about yourself. If you project through anything it’s your character or the cards you play. It helps me to be social in context to a comfortable point but not too involved in drama. It’s a good change of pace from running in my head all the time. I don’t really go out here in town anymore. My heart is always elsewhere these days and I like it that way. I still think it’s good practice to present yourself in real life how you do behind the screen. That’s just accountability at some point. Sometimes that’s hard to believe about someone. For awhile I was so low key and subtle that people would forget I even existed. I’m not the type of person to hang around and try to remind people. Chalk it up as being too empathetic but I just know when something is the right course of action. And I know when things stand in my way they are mostly my own fault. It’s easy to avoid the pitfalls. I wish sometimes people would respect that about me in terms of wisdom. But you can’t force people to understand. It might not please people I ignore them in real life or try to keep my distance socially. But what I built for myself took a lot of pain and inward thinking. I criticized myself a lot along the way. I don’t openly flog myself about it to prove to anyone how much I do to survive and help others. I just do it like I run before work everyday. Sometimes it takes years to get the point you believe in yourself enough to agree it’s ok to be you. Sometimes social cues from other people can tell you what is working and what doesn’t. A group of people who probably would talk shit about each other out of lack of self confidence can work things out if they sit down and play a game together maybe.

I speak my mind a lot. It seems all I do lately is wake up, read the news, find new things to inspire and share, and play marvel versus capcom occasionally. Nothing in my personal life is what anyone would call conventional or normal. Neither are the people that inspire me to keep moving forward and growing as a person. It exhausts me to argue especially when the intent is not to be understood but to win some game. I’m pretty open and real with people. In the midwest in predominantly white communities, white people don’t like when you speak up or walk a line. Most of my close friends in music are from areas most white people are afraid to go. And I know how subconsciously racist that is because it’s how I was brought up as well. It’s something music gifted me beyond being famous. It gave me the opportunity to learn about how I could be a better person by seeing this city for how it really is. By thinking backwards instead of accepting the status quo. It’s a curse sometimes. Especially when you make a comment about horny old white men dying every day. I’m guilty as anyone I guess. I’ve heard a lot about the male gaze lately. Obviously I’m just as much at fault for that over the years. I don’t take any of that back that I’ve posted here on Tumblr obviously. That’s all still very beautiful to me in varying degrees. I’ve toned down a lot of things in my life. I still have those feelings. Some far stronger than others. But I keep those close to my heart and private for whatever reason. But when someone asks you to explain your seemingly “righteous” position more clearly because they accuse you of virtue signaling it gets a little ridiculous. I read this article in the New York Times how what we reserved for our politicians we cast upon our own. Maybe because people are so disconnected from feeling in power. Maybe because oppression still exists however subtle that they project this frustration onto others. I had training on micro aggressions. I thought it was pretty useful. I don’t like exploitation. That’s an opinion of mine that I hold. I’m not going to sit there and list every celebrity or cultural icon that I identify with to justify how I feel. It’s 8:50 am in the office. So I basically apologized and walked away. That person later apologized and I told them it was water under the bridge. Sometimes confidence is being the bigger person and walking away. I keep my head down enough to know. It’s what’s in my dash that really counts. <3 - Tim

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