#so i have commited myself to not letting that accusation color my impression of the book

[lgbtlunaverse]

After reading tons of people whose opinions I respect either hail it as essential reading or tear into it as abuse apolagia I have finally decided to actually read Conflict is not abuse" by Sarah Schulman and I gotta say, I think its message is really undercut by Sarah Schulman's apparrent belief that cutting someone off makes you the devil.

Like, for a book ostensibly about not overstating harm it is deeply ironic how apocalyptically it portrays the very mundane act of "not wanting to talk to someone." It's Childish. Tyrranical. Poisonous to individuals and entire communities alike. If you send someone an email asking them not to contact you anymore you are ruining your own ability to have healthy relationships with anyone. Ever. People like this should be forced into conversation with whoever they wish to avoid and it would be for their own sake because the mere act of not talking is so inherently harmful it cannot be allowed to occur, at any cost.

Every time the book says something I think is profound and useful and I start nodding along it is inevitably followed by a take that blocking someone on social media means you have the mental development of a toddler. Or that if someone is "hiding behind technology" (only wishing to talk to someone over the phone instead of face to face) this is a collective problem that the entire community needs to band together around to prevent, no matter what the person doing the "shunning" thinks. In the book's own words: "More and more people have to join in together to create change. The conversation is not over just because an escalator insists that it is."

As a reader, that attitude seems like the exact kind of militant overly paranoid thinking that a book like "Conflict Is Not Abuse" would want to prevent, but as I read further the overwhelming impression I get is that Sarah Schulman is actually fine with endlessly harangueing someone and turning their entire community against them, as long as it's for the crime of shit-talking your ex and not wanting to be around them.

[maxrev]

Feels prompt for Knox (or a Shepard of your choice if he's not feeling talky): “ you’re not a machine or— or some thing. you’re a person, and i’m sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise."

Welp, guess Knox felt like talking lol. Here ya go! From this list of prompts      

BIG shout out to @nightmarestudio606 for helping me with the kiss...I haven’t written one in sooo looong lol

            ________________________________________________

What the hell was he doing? He never ran. From anything. Hadn’t since he was four fucking years old. And now, at thirty one, he held many titles: Commander Shepard, Savior of the Galaxy, etc, etc. He’d taken down husks, brutes...hell, even a reaper without a second thought. 

So, why did this particular man have him running for cover, hiding in his own damn cabin no less? Fuck this. 

And yet, he remained where he was, a few steps just inside his cabin door, looking all around but not seeing a thing. The fish tank burbled quietly beside him, fish merrily swimming around; model ships he’d carefully crafted on display in the glass case; a softly squeaking wheel from the hampster - who still wasn’t named - running in circles. All of it a part of his carefully crafted world, even if the fish and hampster had been gifts he’d never have bought on his own. Pets required time and attention he had none to give. 

His world was orderly, meticulously thought out to every minute detail, any possible contingency planned for. Except one apparently. 

Major Kaidan Alenko. Putain de merde.

If was wearing his hardsuit, his vital signs would show his heart rate was up along with his stress levels. As if mocking him, the fish continued to swim, serene and unhurried from one end of the tank and back, not a care in the world. 

“Commander, Major Alenko wishes to speak with you. Would you like me to let him in?” EDI’s voice carried over the speakers above him. 

His cabin. His only sanctuary, such as it was. As the commander, he was available at all times, yet no one ever bothered him here, preferring to stay well away. It seemed there was nowhere left to run. Cornered like a wounded animal and he damn sure felt like one, too. Ready to lash out. Cool heads prevailed, not that he’d ever been accused of having one. The memories of Horizon and Mars mocked him. 

The major was a brilliant soldier and he needed him on the Normandy. He ran a hand over his shorn head in agitation. Okay, okay. I need him on the Normandy. Admitting it turned out to be not as hard as he’d imagined. 

“Commander?”  EDI prodded. 

“Give me five minutes.”  Let the major wait outside, stew a bit in his own thoughts. 

Glancing around the cabin, Knox wondered why he was so damn nervous. Nothing was out of place, all his things meticulously maintained and where they belonged. The only mess to be found were the piles of datapads scattered over the desk. He was having a hard time keeping on top of them. The barrage of information was constant, barely able to read one before another was thrust into his hands. 

Enough. No more stalling. Leaning casually against the ledge along the fish tank, he crossed his arms and ankles. He could give the impression of being relaxed, even if he didn’t feel it. 

“Let him in, EDI.” 

The door slid open. The world narrowed to just one man and his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and pushed away a sudden unknown emotion he felt as his eyes landed on Alenko standing on the other side. He waited for the major to make the first move having invaded his refuge.

Stepping inside, the major nodded at Knox, “Commander.” 

So formal. It should put Knox at ease but instead it irritated him. Irrationally so. Wanting to shake the ground beneath Alenko’s feet, he said, “Call me Knox.” 

Thick dark eyebrows rose up in response, surprised. Good. Knox felt more at ease with the knowledge.

“Okay...Knox,” Kaidan drew out the one syllable as if trying out the feel of it. “Then I ask that you call me Kaidan.” 

Knox simply continued to stare at him, not responding. The silence stretched out and his impatience began to grown. He did not like to be kept waiting. 

“Was there something you needed?” His words came out harsher than intended but if it prompted a response, so be it. 

Brown eyes, wariness in their depths, looked away, the tips of Kaidan’s ears becoming pink. Interesting. He rubbed the back of his neck, a tell Knox had seen often when he was unsure about something or embarrassed. Which was it this time? 

“I…” he took a deep breath, then turned an looked Knox right in the eyes, “I wanted to apologize for my distrust back on Mars, for questioning your loyalties. I realize now you’re the commander I’ve known since Eden Prime and I’m happy to fight by your side...sir.” 

Straightening up, Knox strode over slowly, coming to a stop before him, crowding his space. The air around them was charged with electricity. He spoke quietly, calmly, but with steel in his voice, “Only now?”

Kaidan didn’t look away this time. The intensity in his gaze made Knox’s blood heat. There was more going on here than what one could see on the surface. 

“What is it exactly you want from me?” 

Merde! What a loaded question he was asking. Deciding he needed a drink, Knox turned towards his desk where he kept a bottle of whiskey. He splashed some of the amber liquid into a glass, uncaring when it slosed over the side. Maybe the burn as it went down would put him back on solid ground. The ground he’d tried to shake beneath Kaidan’s feet had backfired. This was new territory for him. 

He tossed the whiskey back, turning to hold up his empty glass, "Drink?"   

Kaidan hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded. Knox poured another for himself, then handed the other glass over. The major sipped sparingly, eyes widening a fraction in surprise. 

Knox shrugged, "I liked the whiskey you added to the bar. Bought some for myself."

An inadvertent admission. He wandered over to watch the fish, lest Kaidan read more into it. Silence followed his words and he turned to find the major browsing the datapads. Knox bristled at the invasion of his privacy, ready to let fly with harsh words and criticism but his inner voice caught up to him and told him to stop. 

There was nothing more than intel about the war and the crucible and maybe Kaidan would be able to provide some insight, see things from a different angle...as he usually did.

Instead, Knox kept quiet and observed him, refusing to admit to himself he was actually committing to memory every nuance of the man across the room. Suddenly, Kaidan’s body tensed up, fingers coming to rest on one specific datapad. Having so many open, Knox couldn’t remember what intel was in each one and now he was curious at the reason for the strange response. 

"Find something?" 

Kaidan’s hand snapped to his side as if caught in a trap. Placing the unfinished drink on the desk, he turned to leave with an excuse at the ready, "I should go get acquainted with the crew." 

Knox moved quickly, stepping in front of him, so close he could see the variations of color in the expressive brown eyes. His own eyes traveled at leisure over Kaidan’s face; new scars blending with old ones, a few more wrinkles and gray hairs from the passage of time and the stress they were under...a tinge of pink on his cheeks. 

Their eyes locked. For the first time ever, Knox found himself lost. Unable to process the feeling, he did what came natural. He charged ahead. 

The world around them ceased to exist, narrowing down to just the two of them, Kaidan’s breath hitching for a fraction of second before relaxing into the kiss, opening eagerly as Knox slid his tongue inside. Pressing up against him, their feet  tangled and they stumbled across the room, Kaidan’s back stopping them up against the fish tank. Knox planted his palms to each side while Kaidan grasped at his clothing. 

They sank into the kiss, neither willing to be the first to let it end. But end it did, Knox pulling away first. What the fuck was he thinking, kissing a member of his crew? There wasn’t time for personal relationships, death on the horizon or not. Things like this just got messy and caused more problems than he needed right now. Either of them needed. 

He walked back to the desk, leaving Kaidan where he was. How he felt about what happened was of no concern to him. Leaning into his arms, hands pushing the datapads aside, one blinked to life. The one Kaidan had been looking at. On the screen was the Cerberus husk they’d found on Mars where Kaidan had questioned if the terrorist organization had done the same to him. 

Behind him, the door slid open and he heard footsteps as Kaidan left his cabin. 

His voice, raspy and deep with the remnants of their kiss lingering still, floated back to him, “You’re not a machine or— or some thing. You’re a person, Knox, and i’m sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise, including me." 

[captainchrisfics]

‘Always’

About: Chris Evans and his girlfriend break up so he comes crawling back to his friend’s door, only they’re a little more. They have been for a long time, although it takes a fight and a nasty phone call from a scorned ex for them to realize it.

Word Count: 3,638

Warning(s): There’s a makeout in this fic. Nothing I would particularly classify as nsfw, but just a heads up.

Requested By: Anonymous! Thanks for sending this in, I’m always happy to write reqs. Another thanks for being patient with me. x

My phone rang. 

I was done for the day, just for the record. My bra was off, my feet were up, my wine was in reach, and my favorite trashy reality t.v. show was on. 

Then my phone flashed, turning that dark grey color it does when there isn’t a contact picture. But instead of an unfamiliar number, there was a contact name. Chris’s Gf. 

Now, I know it was rude not to save her contact with her name. Granted I couldn’t even be bothered to type out ‘girlfriend,’ almost as if she was dispensable or something. But, in my defense, I genuinely couldn’t remember what it was when Chris made a group chat to plan an introduction dinner with all of his friends from back home. You’d think it’s a very significant thing, all the girls he brought to Boston at one point or another did, but anyone who knew Chris also knew he tended to jump the gun. 

She’d managed to stick around for a few months though, so I really should’ve learned her name. Thankfully, when my thumb made contact with the green circle, there wasn’t a need for pleasantries since she was already screaming at me. 

“It’s all your fucking fault, you know,” she spit into the speaker. Her audio was kind of grainy, like she was talking through her car’s bluetooth. Plus, I could barely hear her over the blaring horns and sirens of Boston’s all too familiar traffic. I could imagine her manicured claws wrapping so tight around her steering wheel that her knuckles turned white as she snarled, “Chris doesn’t have any more fucking time for anyone else because he’s too busy fucking you.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” I started, buying time for my brain to catch up to her mouth’s pace. “We never-”

“Oh, don’t fuck with me,” she cut me off, laughing cynically. “I know about you two, he told me months ago. Told me you were only friends now though, so I’m not sure what to believe at this point.”

“But we never did anything since he met you!” I defended, my voice coming out more loud and shrill than I’d intended. I sighed in an attempt to compose myself. “We are friends,” I stressed, calmer now. I started pacing nervously as I pinched between my eyes.

“Oh,” she said dramatically between gritted teeth. “That’s where you’re wrong, with this whole innocent little ‘friends’ thing.”

And, while I’m sure she’d felt like I was finally trapped in the corner, right where she wanted me, that’s exactly where she’d lost me. Because the whole ‘friends’ thing was exactly that to me, innocent. Platonic. Sure, I enjoyed the kind of relationship Chris and I had when we were both single and looking to have a little fun, but we also respected our boundaries and other partners enough to call it quits. Never had either of us crossed that line.

“Whatever you want to call it. It’s not that to Chris at least,” she continued to seethe, “it’s why he can’t have a real relationship. I’m sure it’s true for you too, with your boyfriends. It ended because he’s got one foot in the door and the other out of it. You’re always standing in the way, it’s your fault.”

Leave it to this girl I barely know, in the loosest sense of the term, to read me like an open book, like she knew everything between my covers. Things I hadn’t even written yet.

“I…” I stumbled over explaining myself. “I-it isn’t like that,” my shaky voice stuttered, not even able to convince myself. It isn’t like she knows me or my relationship with Chris. It isn’t like he cheated on her. It isn’t like I’ve ever tried to hold him back in any relationship, let alone theirs. 

But it isn’t like that was what she was accusing us of. It isn’t like my doorbell didn’t ring, a heavy, steady knock reverberating. It isn’t like there wasn’t a deep voice, one as familiar as my heartbeat and scratchy from being strained in a yelling match, asking to come in. It isn’t like I couldn’t imagine the deep blue of his bedroom eyes, twinkling between these sultry dark lashes, like that thought didn’t spark an insatiable fire in my stomach that snatched every bit of air in my chest. It isn’t like either of us were surprised.

“Bet that’s him now,” she hissed, as if she hadn’t struck me already. Hadn’t poisoned my thoughts, making me feel simultaneously sick to my stomach. “You two deserve each other.” She scoffed before hanging up.

“I’m sorry,” I confessed to my home screen, half-hoping she’d hear it anyway. Probably to relieve my own guilt, this terrible feeling completely repressing my lungs. So that was why I couldn’t breathe.

She planted this seed, this terrible, rotten, famine-inducing sort of seed, in the bottom of my stomach. It latched onto me, expanding roots I’d trip over and growing until its branches coiled around my heart and constricted my lungs.

Then Chris rang my doorbell again, calling out my name. Rambling, probably under the impression that he was the only one who could hear anyway. Saying that he’s sorry he didn’t call first, but he was stressed. He had this tension he needed me to relieve, and that made for some of the best nights.

I tried to talk, but it came out as a cough.

“We…” Chris trailed off. I could almost see him, kicking at my stoop with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Hands I wanted tangled in my hair, roaming along every one of my body’s curves. Biting his chapped lips anxiously. Lips I wanted on mine, teeth I wanted leaving marks on my neck for the next few days. 

“We broke up,” he said, no sign of anything other than frustration. Frustration I wanted him to take out on me, so desperately, burying me between my mattress’s springs.

I opened the door, although I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let him in. Still grappling with the shell-shock from his ex’s phone call, I smiled. “I had a feeling,” I told Chris, but I wasn’t sure he took it how I meant it.

Just by the way the corner of his lips turned up in a smirk, he had me. He leaned against my door’s frame as a chuckle reverberated from deep in his chest, right where I felt that glint in his eye tugging at my lust. “She called you?” Chris asked incredulously, thick eyebrows taking off as he stared at the phone in my hand. “Fuck, I knew she was crazy, but…” he trailed off, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. He shrugged and said, “Saves me the breath, I guess.”

And still, Chris took more from me.

His lips were on mine in moments, kissing me with such a force that the two of us stumbled into my living room. Chris kicked the door closed behind him and I pushed him back into it, grabbing his coat’s lapels to slow our velocity. He tore off the layer and his t-shirt so I crash-landed into him anyway.

My fingers crawled up every bump and curve of his torso, inching excruciatingly slowly over the soft, bare skin I’d missed. I relished in every goosebump my scratching nail elicited from his porcelain chest. When my hands finally reached his neck, I wrapped my arms around Chris and pulled him impossibly closer. I wasn’t about to let him go again any time soon. 

Chris groaned with satisfaction against my bottom lip, tugging the sensitive skin between his teeth. His hands found my ass, hesitating on the curve like he was properly appreciating it before slipping down to the bottom of my thighs, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist.

I missed this, if I’m honest. The way our chests rose and fell in complete sync with one another, hands roaming familiar territory, every part of each other dancing together as if we’d rehearsed countless times before. By this point, I suppose we had. 

Chris carried me to the couch and sat so I was straddling him. Our hips began digging into one another, frantically trying to find the friction we knew all too well between our clothing. His hands slipped up the hem of my shirt and suddenly I became too aware of how little was separating our bare chests, just this one piece of fabric. One of Chris’s old shirts, in fact. The reality of how close we were to being so close again, only to have hundreds of miles and surely more pointless commitments to other people keeping us apart, it was painful.

He continued to kiss me, hungry and longing as if he’d been deprived, as his cold fingertips teasingly traced underneath my chest. So close, again. But, as much as the passion pooled in the pit of my stomach, there was a horrible, tugging guilt that started to drain me.

“Chris,” I whined, only the word came out more like a breathy moan as I tore my lips from his, like pulling two magnets apart.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, pressing his lips along my jaw and down my neck. Instinctively, I craned so he could have better access and I almost didn’t want to say anything at all as badly as I needed to keep grinding my hips against his. Chris’s hands tightened on my hips, urging me even more.

It would’ve been so much easier to drown myself in Chris. To let his scent, the expensive vanilla cologne and crisp mountain air and something that smelled indistinguishably from what my home, replace all of the air in my lungs. To let the sensations surround me, his beard scratching my collarbone and his calloused fingertips digging into my hip bones, so hard I hoped I’d have bruises of his fingerprints in the morning. 

Like jumping into a frozen lake, he shocked every one of my nerves awake. I gasped, taking in all the air I could as if I’d just broken the water’s surface after a deep dive.

“Chris,” I repeated, sterner this time. He retracted, resting his hands on the small of my back while giving me this awful look. These anticipating, wide puppy-dog eyes with his swollen lips stuck in a pout and his eyebrows hanging low. Chris was the poster boy of concern. I almost wanted to tell him to forget it, that we could keep going, but I had a feeling even he couldn’t satisfy the aching in my chest. I needed something else.

“She was right, Chris,” I admitted so quietly that, if we weren’t close enough for each of our breaths to be borrowed, I think he might not have heard me. My forehead met his shoulder and I watched his chest deflate with a sigh.

“She doesn’t know shit about how I feel,” he growled. His arms tensed around me and I knew I’d brought back the emotions he was trying to leave at my front door. I realized he’d had a similar conversation to the one I did, and he knew it too. In a moment of steely anger, he felt completely foreign to me.

Then Chris’s shoulders sagged as his grip on me softened and he reached for me, resting a heavy hand on my cheek. Chris lifted my head so I’d looked at him. Him and his drooping eyebrows, chiseled frown lines, and those blue eyes, gentle as a lake in the morning and just as glassy. 

“She doesn’t know shit about us,” Chris insisted, still bitter, but with all of the conviction he could muster.

“It doesn’t matter, she’s still right. We can’t keep doing this,” I bit back, matching his sincerity’s strength. “Every other guy I’ve ever been with,” I tried to confess, but then I saw my reflection in his crystal-clear eyes. I realized exactly what I was about to do, the can of worms I’d nearly opened, and I couldn’t.

I turned from Chris, partly so I didn’t have to look at him, but mostly so I didn’t have to watch him looking at me. His hand fell from my cheek and hit his thigh with a defeated thud. My eyes darted to the ceiling, blinking back tears. My chest shook as I tried to suck the words on the tip of my tongue back down with every breath.

“They left you wanting more?” Chris said, sucking on his teeth. “Left you wanting someone else specifically?” he laughed dryly. The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk, but there was nothing light about the look in his eye, like someone else was pulling the strings.

I jumped from his lap, like he’d just passed an electric shock through me, and pulled my shirt back down. “No,” I objected. With the way Chris looked at me, leaned back casually and watching me with his eyebrows playfully raised as I paced with crossed arms and a furiously shaking head, I had a feeling I was only trying to convince myself.

“She told me the same thing,” he began tentatively. “That I’m not ‘emotionally committed to her’ as if that makes any sense,” Chris paused to roll his eyes. “And then once she left me, I was driving over. I didn’t even feel sad about the breakup, I just wanted to be with you,” he elaborated.

Chris stood and took a couple of his long strides toward me. He gripped my shoulders, just enough to stop the pacing path of the wind-up toy I’d become before I wore a hole through my carpet. “And then I realized what she meant,” Chris admitted, buying time before he finished with a deep breath. He pulled me close to his chest. “I realized that I was waiting for this, to be with you. I always do.”

“No,” I repeated with more fervor, shaking myself from his embrace.

“No?” Chris echoed incredulously. His eyebrows knitted together as he crossed his arms, taken aback by my objection.

“No!” I shouted, running my anxious hands through my hair as I continued to pace on the opposite side of the coffee table. Out of his arm’s reach. “This isn’t what this is. We’re friends, Chris. This isn’t how friends work,” I spoke in a quick staccato.

“We aren’t just friends. It’s how we can work,” he pleaded his case, trying to emphasize his point with wildly flailing hands. “You said it yourself, she was right.”

“And you said she didn’t know anything,” I shot back in a low tone with narrowed eyes. My steps halted as my eyes pierced daggers into Chris. He was still flushed from earlier, hair disheveled wildly from my hands raking through the dark locks as well as his own nervous ones now, but he still made a decent target. 

“And, if we aren’t friends, what am I to you then, Evans? A booty call, maybe? A rebound? Really, which is it? Because, as much as you’ve ‘always’ wanted to be with me, you always seem to get bored and run back to L.A. to find someone else!”

His whole being, from his eyebrows to his shoulders to his spirit, sank. My words weighed heavy on him and, as good as it felt in the moment to pin all of my anger and confusion onto Chris, it wasn’t worth the way he’d looked at me. Like he was so insulted I would even imagine that he thought so little of me. 

“That isn’t fair. You know that’s not what I meant,” he faltered. His mouth opened and closed, a total fish out of the water. This wasn’t in our element, Chris never came here for a fight. He came for love, or at least the closest thing he could get. Actually, I gave him all the love I had. Always. But that was the problem, that I never seemed to get any in return.

Again, I stopped to scrutinize Chris. I’m not sure what I was hoping to find between his naked chest heaving with ragged breaths and those soul-baring eyes that conveyed nothing less than heartbreak. “You are so much more to me,” he professed, his voice level and imploring me to believe him. “I want us to be so much more.”

I collapsed onto the couch, knees weakened with a declaration of adoration I’d been dreaming about for the longest time and a fraction of my emotional exhaustion taking a physical toll. I wrung my hands in my lap, choosing to watch my fingers slide in and out of my other hand’s gaps instead of looking Chris in the eye.

My couch creaked with a sudden added weight as one massive, calloused hand wrapped itself around both of my own. “Want a drink?” Chris asked in a refreshing change of pace. His eyes darted to my nearly-empty glass of rosé from earlier and the bottle accompanying it.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of serving me, I pulled my hands from his and refilled my own glass. I passed it to Chris before taking the whole bottle into my lap. We both took long sips, trying to force each other to break the thick silence between us.

“We’re supposed to be friends,” I snapped first, hating how my voice broke. 

Chris choked on his wine as he laughed. “Friends who fuck each other senseless sometimes?” he inquired, raising a thick eyebrow. “We’ve been more than that whether or not you want to realize it.”

“But friends,” I insisted, unwavering. “That’s the only solace I’ve had, seeing you with other girls, knowing that we had boundaries. That we aren’t supposed to have feelings like this so I could ignore them and assume it wasn’t mutual. You aren’t supposed to make me wait for you, over and over again, and then claim to have wanted me this whole time.”

Chris allowed me to ramble without interruption. Instead of waiting to talk, he only listened. With one arm wrapped around my shoulder and the other hand tight around his glass’s stem, he allowed me to get it all out.

“You could’ve just had me, Chris,” I raised my voice, hating how defeated the crack in my voice sounded. It was shrill and as removed from myself I ever felt, like the words were coming out of someone else’s mouth. “So I don’t see why you expect me to believe you ever really wanted me in the first place.” I turned into Chris’s side, burying my face in his shoulder in an attempt to seek some comfort. As much as I hated him in that moment, Chris always seemed to be my soft place to land.

“I know that now,” he said in a breathy sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, I had no clue you felt like that,” Chris said, words laced with a saccharine honesty that begged me to believe him. Then his chest rumbled with a reverberating, cynical laugh as he added, “If it’s any consolation, I had no clue I felt like this either.”

He’d caught my attention. I tipped my chin up to rest on his shoulder, looking at Chris with a new clarity. He was just as confused as I was, drowning and tumbling in an unexpected wave of new emotions.

“Honest, I didn’t… I don’t know if this makes any sense,” Chris stuttered, shaking his head. “But it didn’t click until I was driving over here. I realized I was doing exactly what she accused me of, always running to you. Comparing her to you. Wanting every girl to be you.”

Then he saw right through me with those eyes, as clear as a crystal ball I could nearly see our future in- or, at least, the one Chris envisioned. He’d pinned his heart right onto his sleeve. “You don’t know how fucking stupid I feel,” he said with a gritty laugh, “for wasting so much of the time we could’ve been spending together.”

He reached out and tucked a lock of loose hair behind my ear, palm hovering over my cheek before deciding it was a safe place to rest. His thumb stretched across the soft skin, wiping a tear I hadn’t realized slipped out. “Darling,” he sighed with a new tenderness, “I don’t want to waste any more of it watching you cry. I want to be with you, always, as long as you’ll have me.”

I laughed and it felt good, like it lifted some of the heaviness from my chest. My hand found the crook of his neck. I could just barely feel his pulse beating hard underneath the soft, warm skin. I looked at him through long lashes as I realized the utter beauty of this man sitting before me, inside and out. I thought I knew him before, every corner and crevice, but Chris was bearing a new part of his soul to me. “Me too,” I mumbled. 

So painfully slowly, Chris began to lean in, like he was giving me one last chance to back out. Like I hadn’t given all of myself to him, in every way possible, a long time ago.

When his lips met mine, just like they had so many times before, something was inexplicably new. Different from the desperation usually lacing our love and the bittersweet excitement of knowing it could end at any moment. This was patient, this was Chris telling me he’d wait as long as he had to for another kiss like this. This was him promising himself to me and me alone, pressing the vow from his lips to mine. This was grateful and accepting, giving and vulnerable in a way that we’d never been before. A way I hoped we’d always be.

Tags: @patzammit , @thegetawaywriter , @coffeebooksandfandom , @captainsteveevans , @intrepidandabitcrazy , @super100012 , @spilledinkindumpster , @torntaltos , @amiquette , @peach-acid , @southerngracela , @kelbabyblue , @artisticrogers1972

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[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #244

“you could stand me up at the gates of hell, but i won’t back down.”

What accent do you find most difficult to understand? Heavy southern. Has your music taste changed over the years? Not very. I do like more indie stuff now than I used to, though. What movie never fails to make you cry? The Notebook. What movies do you think need a sequel? Hm... I'm sure there's plenty, but they're evading me for now. Let's see... yeah idk. Do you have to see it to believe it? I mean it depends; see what exactly? But in general, yeah. I believe in spirits, maybe even auras, stuff like that. What was the last thing you bought for yourself? Food. Do you like 3D movies? Yeah, they're cool. Have you ever had breakfast in bed? Not the "my partner brought me food and it's romantic" type of way; I've just eaten breakfast food in bed. Have you ever practiced kissing on a stuffed animal? No, that's always been. p wild to me. Do you still talk to your childhood friends? A few. True/False: You live with your parents. Just one. At the dinner table do you always sit in the same chair? We rarely eat at the table, but generally, yes. Is your signature legible? I think so. Have you met any bands/singers? No. Have you ever witnessed a miracle? No. Do you know someone that looks better as they age? *shrugs* Do you know the order of the colors of the rainbow? Yes. Do you sometimes wish you were the opposite gender? No. Have you ever kissed a picture? of who? I don’t think so. Did/do you distract your teachers to get them to tell you stories? I didn't really speak in class unless I was pretty sure I had the answer to a question or had a serious question myself. Who makes you feel like you’re worth something? My mom, more than anyone. Do you remember a lot of your childhood? Yeah. I have a crazy vivid long-term memory. How many pets is too many? Depends on available space as well as what you can afford to care for sufficiently. Do you stare at dead people in a movie to see if you can catch them moving? lol no. Does your hand fit inside a Pringles container? Probably. I can curl my thumb really inward to make space. Do you know who your maid of honor/best man will be? Sara, unless I end up marrying her lmao. In that case, it'd be Mom. If you had the opportunity to be famous, would you take it? I don't like the term "famous" for me personally, but rather "well-known" for a photographer. What is your favorite healthy snack? Strawberries, I guess? What is the best song by your favorite artist/band? I HAVE TO???????? PICK???????????? Oh jeez. At least right now, "Time" is one that I hold incredibly close to my heart and usually brings me to tears because it reminds me of Teddy. It's just a beautiful song. I'd say overall, probably "Trap Door." It's cool as hell. How many times did your phone ring today? None. What theme do you want for your wedding? Halloween/fall-ish. How much do you spend a month on make-up? Nothing. Do you have any of your future children’s names picked out? I don't want kids, but if I did, Alessandra Quinn is the girl and my spouse cannot argue, and I'd love Damien Vance or Damien Victor for a boy. What was your favorite childhood meal? Spaghetti. Would you ever date someone over the internet? I don't *think* I'd do it again, no, unless it was Sara and we were actually making arrangements to move in together ASAP. Do you find it hard to believe that a dinosaur was once right where you are? No, but rather cool as hell. What is your favorite part of the movie “The Lion King”? The intro (up to where the title pops up, not just NAAAAAAAAAAAAASEBENYAAAAAAAAAAA). It's just... magical. I, without fail, get goosebumps all over and smile. Do you have any bug bites atm? No. Do you knock before entering someone’s room? Yeah. What was the last thing you shot in the garbage? Like, shot as a basketball? Probably just paper or something. Would you freak out if you saw a spider crawling on you right now? Fuck yes I would. Who did you last call beautiful? Venus, my snake. Have you ever used a tanning bed? Nooooooo. Do you think people will eventually stop believing in God? Oh, absolutely not. The belief in some sort of higher power has evolved since the dawn of civilization, so why would it stop? Do you and your best friend have the same favorite band? No. Do you prefer watching movies or playing video games? Vidya games. Have you ever been go-cart racing? Ha ha yeah, fun. Up in NY with my cousins. How many jobs have you had in your life? Three. Does your shower have a door or curtains? Two curtains. Do you have any posters of your favorite band on your walls? Metallica and Manson, yeah. Are you good at remembering names? NOOOOOOOO. Have you been outside today? No. Have you ever walked the opposite direction on an escalator? No. When making pancakes, do you try to make cool shapes/pictures? No. Do you use your hand when you’re explaining something? Oh yeah. Do you play a lot of video games? Not anymore, really. I would, but I can't afford a new console. I want a PS4 super badly (hell, even a PS3) to play new games, especially ones I haven't seen let's plays of. You can only replay a game so many times before you get bored, y'know? The only game I play regularly is WoW and that's because it has like... endless content to do. Who is your favorite Disney princess? Probably Jasmine. What word do you hate that people use often? (yolo, derp..) None off the top of my head. I just don't care. When was the last time you had hiccups? Idr. Have you ever thrown up from drinking too much alcohol? No. Do you ever buy the same piece of clothing, just in different colors? No. What is the last movie you saw in a theater? The live action The Lion King, I think. How many bank accounts do you have? I don't think I even have one... I know Mom was talking about opening me up one, but like, why. I don't make an income. Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? Oh sure. Do you attend church regularly? I never go. Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? Good. Shit. They have THE best chocolate milkshakes. Do you tend to worry a lot? Only always! How old were you when you lost your first tooth? Idr. Do you remember your first time on the internet? Not really, no. Which website do you email from? Hotmail. Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? Yeah. Do a lot of people dislike you or is it the other way around? Idk. Have you ever had the flu? No, knock on wood. What about strep throat? Yeah. Would you ever consider going on a cruise? No. What is your biggest insecurity? My more "different" interests/hobbies. Have you ever painted a room alone? No. Speaking of which, when did you last paint your room? Never. Have you ever had a terrible hangover? No. Do you ever get migraines? Rarely. Do you know how to garden? I mean, I could put it together... What was the last thing you plugged into an outlet? A phone charger. Do people consider you to be a funny person? I don't know. Do you like children? No. If not, why is this? I'm just... uncomfortable and feel like I'm playing with slime against my will or some shit any time I'm in their presence. I don't like how they stare, I don't like how rude they can be, I hate how demanding they are of attention (YES, I am aware that is healthy behavior for the baby of a social species, I just can't provide it), they ask too many questions... I have a lot of reasons I don't like them. Is there a big age difference between you and the person you like? No. What is the most amusing thing on the internet, in your opinion? YouTube, I guess? Does the future excite you or scare you? Both. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I don't want to think on this. How many huge secrets do you have? I don't know about *huge* secrets... How many people know these secrets? ^ How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once. Do you ever floss? Not really, oops. Have you ever been in a long-term relationship? Two. Ever considered suicide? Yes. If so, did you try to commit suicide? Yes. Is there anyone out there who makes you feel completely useless? No. Do you like texting or calling people more? TEXTING. Don't call me omg. Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? Yeah. When did you last babysit, if ever? I actually did last week in an emergency situation with my nephew. I was the one and only person capable due to everyone being sick. I was scared as shit and very anxious the whole time, but I did it. Ultimately, it was a good bonding experience for us. Do you have any younger siblings? Yes, one sister. Have you ever thought of someone as useless? I'm sure I've thought of myself like that before. Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? Not to remain blonde, no, but I did that on the occasion I dyed it purple, I think. Do you drink vitamin water? No. Are there any old movies you absolutely love? Well of course. Have you ever had a Big Mac before? No, it doesn't appeal to me. Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? I don't know or care. Where is your favorite place to travel? Mountainous and wooded areas. What is your goal for the next few months? Do well in school, get back into driving, maybe get a job I can actually handle. Can you count to ten in another language other than your own? German, yeah. And I think Spanish. Have you ever played on a sports team before? Yeah. If you have, what was that sport and when? All of these are from when I was a young kid. T-ball/softball, basketball, cheerleading, soccer... I think that's it? Oh wait, dance for many years as a pre-teen/teen. Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? No. Do you think you’re a good singer? Not really. Do you think you have a good sense of style? I don't care. What matters is I myself like what I wear. Do you enjoy reading often? No... but I want to get back into it. Have you ever had a deadly illness? No, thank goodness. Ever had food-poisoning before? No. Where did you last eat dinner at? Like, eat out? I think it was a local Mexican restaurant with Mom and the sis. Have you ever shot a gun before? No. Where do you apply cologne or perfume? My neck and just generally around my torso. I don't really pay attention to exactly where. What completely and totally disgusts you and turns you off? Disrespect is what came to mind first this instance. What song makes you laugh when you hear it? I'unno. Do you take surveys hoping someone will see your answers or just ‘because’? Just because. It's a time-killer and a way for me to just. Talk. Not at anyone, just to get thoughts out of my head. It's therapeutic to me. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream? Chocolate or vanilla, depending on my mood. What diet could you never do? "Raw." <<<< Yeah. Do you have a curfew? No, not that I ever leave the house. Do you actually like your job? N/A What is the last song you sang? I think it was "Ordinary Man" by Ozzy feat. Elton John. GOD I am ready for this album. Describe the best kiss you’ve ever experienced: Bro idk I've had a lot of those and I've never like ranked them in my head. Think to the last time someone said thank you to you, what had you done to earn it? I commented on my friend's picture that she was fUCKING BEAUTIFUL. Grab your cellular. When did you last receive a text message? Like three hours ago. Is there anything that’s worrying you at the moment? Just a lot. Honestly, do you wish there was someone still in your life who used to be but for whatever reason isn’t anymore? I mean yeah, there' s multiple people like that. Who in your household do you not have a good relationship with? My sister's dog. Who in your life are you scared to lose more than anything? Mom.

[prorevenge]

Send me a racist email by accident and then rant at me when I politely warn you to not do it again? Enjoy those pink slips, guys!

So my first+last name is both common and commonly used by racist f*ckers (mostly in the Deep South) to name their kids. And through a combination of genetics and upbringing, those kids tend to grow up to be racist f*ckers too.

Because it's so common, there's almost always been another person with my same first and last name at any place I've worked. Most of them are NOT racist f*ckers. But this isn't about them. This is about a different guy. A guy with some seriously f*cked up friends.

I should mention that we're all used to getting misdirected emails. It's inevitable when you have a common name. You basically just figure out who it was meant to go to, FWD a copy to him, and CC the person who got the address wrong. Easy-peasy. Hardly ever happens twice.

Once in a blue moon, you get something inappropriate. Fine. I get it. People can sometimes be rude in private. When that happens, I add a little note to the CC letting the sender know that it is NOT ok to be a racist f*cker and that if he does it again I will go right to his employer (if it's from a work email) and ours (since the recipient is from my company). The result is pretty predictable. I get back an humbly worded apology and a promise to never let it happen again. So it's effective, and maybe even a teaching moment. Nah. Who am I kidding- they probably just triple-check the email address the next time. But you take what you can get, I guess.

One time, though, my very politely worded warning was NOT well received. I got back one extremely vitriolic response from the sender accusing me of being every derogatory name in the Klan handbook. I was invited to perform impossible sexual feats upon myself, commit suicide several times in a row, and all manner of other colorful stuff. He cheerfully told me all about his (actually quite impressive) home arsenal, most of which he would gladly allow me to shove up my ass and pull the trigger. So yeah, the dude was apparently upset about being told what he could and couldn't write in a business email.

I think I could even have let that slide, although I probably wouldn't have felt very good about myself afterward. But then my same-named co-worker decided to add his 2cts. They were a much milder 2cts, but they weren't exactly cordial. Essentially, he told me to mind my own business and stop reading his emails and that it wasn't my job to be (and I quote) "the email PC police."

To tell the truth, I was a little stunned. He'd never so much as let out a peep when I did the same thing for his other racist f*cker friends. And plus, we'd just all been through a company-wide mandatory diversity training class where there was an entire module about how not to be a racist f*cker on the company email system. Maybe he thought the cartoon his racist f*cker buddy sent was so well drawn that it should get a pass? I dunno.

I was a little pissed, though. Even if the racist f*cker wasn't intelligent enough to know that vile shit like that is offensive all on its own, he should at the very least realize that it put our employer at risk. Be an asshole on your own if you want to, but at least consider its effect on your paycheck!

And so that's how I ended up taking a short walk up to the HR office with a printout of the original email, the sender's double-down response, and my same-named co-worker's annoying defense of his racist f*cker friend. Calls were made. By close of business that same day, I was (for the first time) the only one at my employer with my first and last name.

That would have been the end of it, but it turned out that (being a huge gov't contracting company) we actually had a business relationship with the sender's employer. The sender wasn't involved in that business relationship, but our ethics committee decided it was enough that emails had been exchanged for it to be necessary to inform his employer.

There was some company-a-company communication, and I had to participate in a conference call where I explained about there being two me's and the racist f*cker thinking I was the other guy and the offensive email and response, etc. But the tl;dr of it is that the SENDER got canned too, and the police where he lived were informed of the threatening language used (i.e the mention of his guns).

I don't know if they every followed up on that, but I'd like to think that somewhere in a filing cabinet with a manila folder marked "Racist F*cker" with a printout of that email. One can hope, anyway.

(source) (story by hendergle)

[qqueenofhades]

March is Women's History Month and I got myself thinkin' about how grateful I am for the gal pals in my life (of which you are most definitely one!), and I was wondering - what are some of your favorite historical female friendships and why?

Happy Women’s History Month indeed. Let’s get some ladies up in this joint and do some learning.

Below, in (approximately) chronological order:

1. MurasakiShikubu and Empress Shoshi (10th/11th century)

Murasaki Shikibu was a lady-in-waiting to the Japanese empress Shoshi in the late 10th/early 11th century, and is credited as the author of the first novel, The Tale of Genji. She also kept the Diary of Lady Murasaki, which records details of court life and her relationship with the empress, who was her patron and supported her literary pursuits. Allegedly, Shoshi asked Murasaki to write some more stories when she needed something new to read, and they eventually retired together to the country once Shoshi’s son became emperor. Shoshi herself was a shrewd political operator who carefully managed her family and dynasty’s fortunes, became a Buddhist nun, and died at the age of 86.

2. Christinede Pizan and Anastasia (14th/15th century)

Christine de Pizan was an Italian-French author in the late fourteenth/early fifteenth century, who wrote what are often characterized as many early feminist texts and literary critiques. She wrote blazing responses to popular romances written by men (which were often horrendously misogynist) and was in demand as an author; her texts were commissioned by royalty and kept on elite library shelves. She also sought out other women to collaborate with, including Anastasia, who we know only by her first name. Christine praised her as the finest manuscript illuminator and illustrator in Paris, whose work was hotly in demand, and who had worked on several projects for Christine herself.

3. The Rain Queens of the Lovedu (16th century-present)

This is technically about mothers and daughters, but shh, it counts. The South African tribe of the Lovedu has been ruled for centuries by a “rain queen,” whose wisdom passed from mother to daughter, and who was presented with wives by surrounding chiefs in recognition of her magical powers. If it doesn’t rain, the queen doesn’t get blamed, her (male) rain doctors get blamed instead, and any children of her “brides” are regarded as hers. It created a mystical, matriarchical tradition in the tribe throughout generations, though in the 21st century it has run into modern political difficulties.

4. Queen Elizabeth I and Grace O’Malley (16th century)

Queen Elizabeth I needs no introduction, but Grace O’Malley was an Irish pirate queen who ruled around the Connaught area of Ireland in the late 16th century. When she and her sons ran afoul of English justice, she applied to Queen Elizabeth directly for an audience, which eventually happened at Greenwich in 1593. Elizabeth spoke no Irish and Grace spoke no English, so the two women spoke Latin to each other. Grace must have also made quite an impression on her fellow queen, as Elizabeth released her sons and granted her a pardon, as long as she didn’t return to her reaving ways.

5. Julie d’Aubigny and Fanchon Moreau (17th century)

Julie d’Aubigny, or “La Maupin” had an almost ridiculously eventful life. A cross-dressing, bisexual, sword-fighting opera singer, she famously burned down a convent to run away with her nun lover, kissed a girl at a society party and beat all three of the noblemen who challenged her to duels as a result, and had a noted career in French theater. Fanchon Moreau was one of the actresses that Julie fell in love with, allegedly trying to commit suicide when Fanchon took up with another lover. She later died at the age of only 33.

6. Christina,Queen of Sweden and her many female friends (17th century)

To speak of impossibly colorful and interesting 17th century women: Christina, Queen of Sweden was also a cross-dressing expert swordswoman, rider, and hunter who spoke ten languages, ruled as queen of Sweden for twenty-two years, then resigned the throne and went to Rome, was ferociously brilliant and educated, and has been sometimes regarded as possibly intersex or trans, though she denied that she was a “Male or Hermaphrodite,” as she had often been accused of. She was also either bisexual or a lesbian, who had many relationships and friendships with women, including possibly with Gabrielle de Rochechouart de Montemart, a dazzling beauty and wit who was the older sister of Louis XIV’s famous mistress, Madame de Montespan. (Gabrielle’s BFF was also the openly gay Philippe, duc d’Anjou, Louis XIV’s younger brother.)

7. Queen Anne and Sarah Churchill (18th century)

Queen Anne was known for her passionate and long-running friendships with women, as I wrote about in the post above, and Sarah Churchill, the Duchess of Marlborough, was the longest-lasting and most influential of these. Anne was in love with her, while Sarah was more pragmatic about her relationship with the princess and then queen, and used her considerable intellect and political opinions in the early years of Anne’s rule. Their relationship broke down in 1708, at the death of Anne’s beloved husband George, and Sarah’s unflattering portrayal of Anne would hold sway for many years after.

8. Anne Bonny and Mary Read (18th century)

If you’ve watched Black Sails, you know about these two, but their real-life counterparts were probably even more colorful. They were swashbuckling female pirates who drank, fought, swore, and fucked as hardcore as their male counterparts, and who fought to the end when their ship got captured, while Calico Jack Rackham hid below deck. (Sorry, Jack, but Black Sails was definitely nice to you.) And yes, the real Anne and Mary were probably in a relationship, though we don’t know for sure.

9. ElizabethFreeman and Catharine Sedgwick (18th/19th century)

Elizabeth Freeman, or “Mum Bett,” was a slave who sued the state of Massachusetts for her freedom – and won – in 1780, and after telling her former master to get fucked, took a paying job with the Sedgwick family. She raised Catharine as a child, and Catharine later wrote her life story, the reason we know about her. Catharine grew up to be a successful novelist whose heroines often rebelled against the strictures of 19th-century American society, and she and Elizabeth are now buried side by side in the Sedgwick family plot. (Does anyone else suddenly have something in their eye? Just me?)

10. Ada Lovelace and Mary Somerville (19th century)

Ada Lovelace, nee Byron, was the only legitimate daughter of the infamous Lord Byron, a brilliant mathematician, and the founding mother of computer science, along with her friend and colleague, the great Victorian inventor and eccentric Charles Babbage. However, she was tutored in her young adulthood by the equally brilliant Mary Somerville, a prolific scientist and author of mathematical and astronomical papers and textbooks, and they were close friends; if Ada had a pressing mathematical problem, she would stop by Mary’s for a cup of tea and a brainstorming session. Somerville College in Oxford is now named in Mary’s honor, after she died at the age of ninety-two.

11. Victoria Woodhull and Tennessee Claflin (19th century)

They were sisters, but shh, again, it counts. Victoria Woodhull was the first woman to run for president of the United States (in 1872, with Frederick Douglass as her running mate) and she and Tennessee were journalists, stockbrokers, and advocates of free love who fought with Party Pooper Extraordinaire and self-appointed guardian of 19th-century American virtue Anthony Comstock, as is written about in the Historical Hour With Hilary entry above. They lived in New York together and ran Woodhull and Claflin’s Weekly, a newspaper, and gave blazing speeches for female suffrage and equality.

12. Lyudmila Pavlichenko and Eleanor Roosevelt (20th century)

Ukrainian-born Lyudmila Pavlichenko was the best female sniper of all time, serving in the Red Army during WWII and recording a total of 309 confirmed kills. That was a lot of Nazis, and she was very proud of killing them. She was one of the rare Soviet citizens invited to America for a victory tour, where the American press fixated on idiotic questions about whether she wore makeup while fighting and that her uniform made her look fat (no, really). However, Lyudmila also met First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, and they struck up an unlikely friendship. Eleanor helped Lyudmila tell the sexist asses where to stick it, and they ended up remaining friends for the rest of their lives, including a meeting 15 years later, in 1957, when Lyudmila was living in quiet obscurity in Moscow.

[heebiejbies]

Limerence - XII

Limerence Masterlist

Characters: Sehun and OC (Ursula)

Warnings: This series contains mentions of assault, sexual violence, and stalking. (This chapter in particular has a bit of gore in it.)

Word Count: 4.1k

Limerence:  The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one’s feelings.

For the next week, I avoided everyone while trying to figure out what I should do. I knew I should tell Detective Phillips, but I had the underlying worry that if I were to be wrong, he would never forgive me for accusing him of a crime he didn’t commit. I couldn’t see any reason for him to want to kill my father, but he drove a car matching the description and he knew me.  

I couldn’t talk to anyone about this. I had to keep it to myself, keep all those burdensome thoughts to myself. For that week, they kept me awake at night. When I closed my eyes, I could only see the image of him and my father. Him bashing my father’s head in and dumping him off of the bridge. Him cleaning his body of the blood and disposing of all evidence linking him to the crime. I even had nightmares where he killed my mom and Caspian.

The thing that really drew the line for me was the nightmare I had where I had to see my family dead.

He tightened the restraints on my wrists and ankles, the rope burning into my skin. He had me bound and gagged in the basement. He had broken into my house and hit me over the head with a blunt object, then I woke up in the basement.

“If you stop squirming, this won’t hurt as bad,” He cooed. He moved my hair from my face and turned my body over onto my back. “You know, Urs, my plan originally wasn’t to kill you. If only you hadn’t smartened up and found out what I did. This is your fault, you know? You should have kept your mouth shut. If you kept your mouth shut then none of this would have happened. Look what you did, though,” I noticed a sheet draped over what seemed to be a lumpy object towards the middle of the floor.  He pulled the sheet off slowly and began to cackle, “You killed them, not me.”

There, lifelessly on the ground, laid my mom and Caspian.

Dead.

He walked back over to my body and dragged me towards their bodies. He laid me down next to Caspian’s body, “Look at what you did to your older brother, Urs. All he ever did was protect you, it’s a shame you couldn’t do the same for him.” I couldn’t take my eyes off of Caspian’s body. His lips had turned blue, his skin drained of all color. I had never seen his eyes so lifeless, so cold and empty. He didn’t look real. He had his work uniform on, his once white shirt now stained crimson from his blood. His throat had been slit wide open, so wide that I could see inside of the slice in his throat. The thing that unnerved me the most about his throat were his muscles, you could see them through the slit in his throat.

“I think I rather carved him up nicely, yes? Don’t you think so too?” I shook my head no, tears pouring out of my eyes while my screams were muffled by the gag.

“Oh? Pity. Maybe you’ll appreciate this better.”  He kicked Caspian’s body away and dropped my mom’s in front of me. I didn’t dare get a closer look at her, I couldn’t. I closed my eyes tightly and found myself praying for this situation to be over quickly.

“Ursula, Ursula, Ursula. I’m upset that you won’t look at my gifts. Would you rather look at the one who started this all?” He opened a crate he had sitting under the stairs and pulled a body out. He kicked my mom’s body away towards Caspian’s and dropped the new body in front of me. The face wasn’t recognizable, his face looked as if it were stuffed into a meat grinder. I didn’t have to guess to know who this was. I remember seeing his body, I would never forget his body.

“Surprise! Your father! Weren’t you thrilled when you found out that he was dead? After all that he did to you, I did you a favor by killing him. I think you owe me a thank you, don’t you?” He removed the gag from my mouth, a wail involuntarily escaping my lips. He put his hand over my mouth to muffle the sound, “Shhh, you haven’t seen the cherry on top yet. Just wait, this one is sure to leave an impression on you.” He went upstairs for a few minutes before a body came toppling down the stairs.

“N-No!” I attempted to crawl towards his body, but the ropes tied around me made that impossible. He whimpered, signaling that he wasn’t dead yet. He looked at me with such a wretched look, he looked at me as if to tell me goodbye. His eyes were threatening to close, even the footsteps coming down the stairs behind him didn’t lift the heaviness to them.

“What a happy reunion! Isn’t this sweet? I’ll make this one quick for you, Ursula. I don’t need to take my time on this, the mere sight of it will be enough.” His eyes were half open as he waited for his fate. He didn’t flinch at the sound of a gun being loaded and cocked. He mustered up the last bit of strength in his body and smiled at me, then the light faded from his eyes. I choked on a sob as I tried to process seeing him die right in front of me, “H-how could you? You… He… S-”

“Now that he’s out of the way, we can get to why you are here. Come, Ursula, no one is in our way now. We are free to do whatever we want, we can leave here if we want. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

I woke up in a cold sweat, my t-shirt and bed sheets soaked. I knew then that I had to tell someone. I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore, someone needed to know. The nightmare had been too vivid for me to ignore, I feared for all three of their lives.

If I don’t do this, he could really kill them. I can’t risk that happening.

I kneeled in front of my bedroom window with my phone clenched in my hand, Detective Phillips’ number punched in and ready for me to hit send. I couldn’t look away from his car, his car that matched the exact description to the car that my father was last seen getting into.

There’s no way, it’s a complete misunderstanding. It has to be. His car couldn’t be the only one around here with the same color and dent in the same position, right? How could it be a coincidence, though? It can’t be, it’s impossible. He and I know each other, and it was my father that was killed. It’s just too coincidental, he had to kill him.

He murdered my father… He mutilated him and dumped his body in the river and then still had the audacity to speak to me as if nothing was wrong… How could he do this? How could he?

“I need to do this,” I reassured myself. I hit the send button and waited for him to answer.

“Detective Phillips, I think I know who killed my father.”

“When was the last time you spoke to the suspect?” Detective Phillips asked me to come down to the police station first thing the following morning. We sat in his office together, he had a pen and paper in front of him ready to write down what I told him. He then asked something of me I wasn’t sure if I could do.

“Can you call him?” I didn’t want to call him, I had a constant sick feeling in my stomach and the thought of even speaking to him again made that feeling intensify. However, if it meant that I could keep him from hurting other people, I knew I had to do it.

I hit ‘send’ under his contact name and waited for him to pick up. When he did, he didn’t say anything. You could hear him breathing on the other end, but he didn’t speak a word. “Hello? Are you there? We need to talk.”

His breathing continued, still not speaking a word. Detective Phillips took my phone from me to try and get him to speak, “This is Detective Phillips. Son, if you come down here peacefully that would greatly help the two of us. You haven’t been charged with anything yet, we just want to question you, nothing more.” The breathing intensified, then the call dropped.

“What did he say to you yesterday?” Detective Phillips handed my phone back to me.

“Well, we didn’t actually speak yesterday but he did call me. I didn’t answer it, though. The last time I spoke to him was via text message a few weeks ago. I still have them actually.” I pulled up the text messages between the two of us, “He left without telling anyone, he said he was visiting family and that he would be back in a few weeks.”

Detective Phillips read the messages between Suho and me, taking note of him leaving town without telling anyone. “He didn’t tell anyone, are you sure?”

“I believe so, I don’t even think he told my boyfriend Sehun—he’s also Suho’s roommate and best friend.” I couldn’t recall Sehun telling me anything about talking to Suho, or even Suho telling him about leaving.

“Can you ask him to come down here to speak to me?”

“I can try, Detective. He’s at work right now though so I will have to ask him once he is off. I hope that’s alright.” He walked me out the police station and to my car, thanking me for coming to him with new information.

“Ursula, I promise you we will get to the bottom of this,” He reassured me, then said goodbye. When I arrived home, I went straight across the road to Sehun’s house. I let myself in and stood in the doorway of his office until he noticed me standing there.

“I look so handsome working, don’t I?” It was apparent that he had a huge smirk on his face, even when the screen in front of him concealed it.

“You always look so handsome, you’re the most handsome in the world~” I teased, entering his office and looking around at the different books he had on the shelves.

“You can make yourself at home, I will be finished here in about an hour.” I nodded, then went to find Vivi. I found him laying on Sehun’s bed asleep, he looked so cute curled up into a ball on one of Sehun’s pillows. I laid down on the bed beside him and pet his head, “Vivi, you’re such an adorable boy.” I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew Sehun was shaking me awake. Vivi was curled up against me and Sehun was sitting on the other side of the bed.

“I’m feeling a little left out,” He pouted and turned his back to Vivi and me.

“Aww, do you want cuddles too?” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him down onto the bed. Vivi had woken up by this point and was playfully attacking Sehun’s face. Watching the two of them play made me forget about the real reason I came to see Sehun. They looked so cute playing together, the sight of it made my heart swell. I just hope that whenever this whole thing with Suho is over, it doesn’t do anything to mine and Sehun’s relationship.

“Spacing out again are we?” Sehun hovered over me, Vivi now laying back down on his pillow. He lowered his head and pressed his lips softly against mine, then he laid down between Vivi and me. “What’s on your mind, Urs? I know something is bothering you.”

I turned to face him and propped myself up on my elbow, “I have to talk to you, it’s about Suho.”

He mimicked my movements, “What about Suho?”

“Sehun he… I think, no I know he-” I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. I moved to sit on the edge of the bed and held my head in my hands. Sehun pulled my body against his and rubbed my back in a comforting way.

“It’s okay, take your time. Just tell me what happened when you’re ready.”

“He killed my father.” Sehun’s movements ceased, his entire body stiffened when he heard what I said.

“W-what? How can you be so sure?” I stood up from his bed and walked over to his window. I looked out the window at the car below, my hand resting on the glass so I could block the sight. “The last time my father was seen alive, he got into a car that matched the description of Suho’s car. That, and the fact that it’s a little suspicious that he went out of town in the midst of these events… I know he’s your best friend and all, but Sehun… I think he did it. I don’t know why, but I think he really did do it. Please don’t hate me, I just-” He cut me off by wrapping his arms tightly around me. He placed a kiss on my head and let me cry into his shoulder before he spoke again.

“Are you positive, Ursula? Are you positive that the description was for his car?” He held my head in his hands and looked at me with such a serious look that I had never seen him have before. I nodded my head, “The only thing is that they couldn’t tell the make and model of the car, but everything else matched. Right down to the dint on the bumper.”

He soaked up the information I had just told him, I knew he would have a hard time with accepting the fact that his best friend more than likely killed his girlfriend’s father. Even when we knew of no motive, the mere thought of it had to be bone chilling.

“Sehun, baby,” I cupped both of his cheeks, “I know this must hurt right now, but please go talk to Detective Phillips about this. You know Suho better than any of us. I don’t want you to have to do this, but I need you to do this for me. I’m so sorry that this has happened.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to him. When should I go?”

Caspian and I went out for dinner later that evening, he decided that I needed to get we needed to get our minds off of things. The dinner went smoothly, we talked about funny things that happened from our childhood and in general just talked about things that made us happy.

“I remember that stray dog you brought home from the park, I’ve never seen mom so angry since then! Why did you bring him home?”

“Hey! He looked hungry and he needed a bath, it isn’t my fault that he escaped the bathtub and got muddy water all over the house. I asked you to help!” He and I laughed at the memory, we had many moments like that when we were younger. The two of us together were a handful for my mom, we weren’t bad kids but we did do a lot of goofy things that she probably lost a bit of sleep over at night.

“Do you remember the day I sliced my leg open and the first thing you did was take a picture?” That day, Caspian had cut his leg open with a piece of tin while working on something in the backyard. He didn’t notice the cut until I walked out and noticed the blood dripping down his leg. Then, as he started freaking out about the cut, I went into the house and grabbed my phone so I could take his picture. I was only 13 so I couldn’t drive him to the hospital, and our mom was working a shift at the hospital so I had to call an ambulance… But not before taking a picture of it first.

“Okay, but at least I called the ambulance after I took the picture!” That’s how our evening went, that is until we were on the ride back my house. That’s when the evening took a turn.

“Ursula, you know you can talk to me about anything that’s bothering you, right?” He asked three different questions along the same lines as that question. We were in the driveway when he said something again, “Talk to me, please.”

“What do you want me to say, Caspian?!” My sudden outburst made his eyes widen, “What should I say? Damn, it sucks that we had to see the image of our mutilated father? The man who we are supposed to not care anything about? Do you want me to tell you how, after everything that he did to us, I still care about him? I still care about a man who has never done anything good for me in my entire life? Do you want me to tell you how his killer is-” I forced myself to stop talking before I could tell him about Suho.

“Urs, I’m sor-”

“Save it, Caspian. Thanks for tonight.” I opened the door and exited his car, slamming the door shut. I couldn’t explain why I had such an outburst, Caspian was just trying to help. He didn’t mean any harm in it.

 When I walked into my house, I saw my mom sitting on the couch as if she were waiting for me. 

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it right now.” I went upstairs to take a shower. While in the shower, I had a lot of time to think about everything. It all became too overwhelming to think about and I found myself crouching in the shower, crying.

I cried everything out, then turned the shower off and dried off. My mom greeting me in my room, she sat on my bed facing the bathroom door while waiting for me to finish my shower. She didn’t say anything as I sat down beside her and started crying again.

“Aww, honey, it’ll be alright,” She consoled me, much like she did that night following the encounter with my father and Caspian. I cried my heart out and told her everything about what had happened, of course leaving out the part about Suho’s involvement. I could tell that she was at a loss for words, after all, how often is someone in this situation?

“All I can tell you, Urs, is that you have to be strong. You will never get that sight out of your head, that’s a fact, but you have to be strong and not let these events rest heavy on your heart. I have to go to the hospital now, but I will keep my phone on me if you need me. Get some sleep, tomorrow will be better.” She had a point, I did have to be strong. I had to be strong for her. I had to be strong for Caspian. I had to be strong for Sehun. I had to be strong for me.

Around an hour later, I received an odd text message.

Ursula? It’s me, Eric, I need you to call me as soon as you get this. It’s about your boyfriend. 

The text from Eric sent chills down my spine. He wants to talk about Sehun? What about Sehun?

He answered on the fourth ring, “Ursula! Thanks for calling me. Listen, I just got a voicemail from a Detective Phillips, and there’s something you should know about your boyfriend before I call the Detective back.”

“Detective Phillips left you a voicemail? What did he want? Also, what do I need to know about Sehun?”

“Ursula, he’s not who you think he is. You’ve got it all wrong! Ursula, he’s-” His phone started cutting out, I was unable to make out Eric’s words.

“Eric? Your phone is cutting out, can you say that again?” The next four words he said were enough to make my heart stop.

“He’s responsible for everything.” Everything. If the entire sentence wasn’t chilling as is, the everything part really sold it. What Eric tried to tell me that day made sense now, Sehun was the one who tried to kill him. “Ursula, you need to get somewhere safe right no-” Someone clapped their hand over my mouth and pulled me against their body, causing my phone to fall to the floor.

“Ursula? Ursula are you okay?!” I could hear Eric calling my name as I struggled with the anonymous intruder. I managed to kick him off of me and I attempted to run out of the front door, but they grabbed my hair and pulled me back. They slammed the door shut and slung me to the ground, then they stood in front of me so I could see their identity.

“Sehun?! W-what are you doing?” He got down on his knees and crawled towards my body.

“Urs, sweetie, I’m sorry that nosy co-worker of yours put you in this position. If he had kept his mouth shut like I told him, you wouldn’t be in this mess now. I’ll have to take care of him now as well, what an inconvenience.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance, then got back up on his feet. He looked out the window as if he were watching for someone, and while he did this I took that time to get up and make a b-line for the back door.

“Ursula, please don’t run away from me!” Sehun tackled me in the yard and tossed me over his shoulder, then carried me back inside the house. I managed to knee him in the back, causing him to drop me. I knew I had to make more time for myself, so I ran upstairs in hopes that I would be able to buy time and make it out my bedroom window.

He followed me closely, even managing to grab my ankle when I climbed over my bed to get to my window. I picked up the first thing my hand grabbed onto from my bedside table and bashed him across the face with it. He yelled in pain and fell down to the ground. I jumped off my bed in front of the window and threw it open so I could exit through it. I made it out on the roof and started climbing down the roof carefully so I wouldn’t fall. I held onto the edge of the roof and attempted to climb down to a part of the roof that was lower when Sehun came out the window after me.

“Ursula, stop running from me!” My grip slipped and I fell to the landing below, and due to it being slanted I ended up rolling off of the roof entirely and landing on the ground below. I attempted to stand so I could run, but the pain was too unbearable for me to be able to do so. I laid on my back, my eyes focusing on the stars above. Sehun came out of the house and ran over to my body, “I’m so sorry, Ursula! I didn’t mean to hurt you, please don’t be angry with me!”

Funny, he tried to kidnap me is worried that I’ll be mad at him for indirectly causing me to fall off of the roof.

He hoisted me up into his arms, causing pain to shoot through my body even more than before. I groaned in pain as Sehun carried me across the street and laid me in the backseat of his car.

“Just go to sleep, sweetheart. When you wake up we will be away from all of this, I promise you. I need to get Vivi and a few things inside and then I will take you away from here.” He kissed my forehead and shut the door. My fingers ghosted across the door handle, but I didn’t have enough strength in me to open the door. My arm went limp, and it seemed like the rest of my body went with it. I fought to keep my eyes open, I fought with every last bit of strength I had in my body. No matter how hard I tried, my eyes shut and I could feel myself slowly drifting away. The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was Sehun getting in the car.

“I’m doing this because I love you, one day you’ll understand that this is the right choice. Nothing can separate us now.”

Author’s Note: Ahh there’s only two more parts left. It’s gonna get emotional  😭

[ace-and-spade]

A Man’s Compromise With The Damned || Alastair || Trial 1.3 || RE: Everyone [Mostly Meifen + Hyo-Rin] || ATN: Hyo-Rin

After the man with the long, long ponytail had explained himself and attempted to reason out an alibi to everyone around him, he had expected some sort of outcry, in a way.  Why was he hating on someone who did nothing to him? What caused him to be a suspect, or worse, why did he kill Akira? He had expected most to blow out of proportion; to fall out of line, and cause chaos and uproars all across the trial room.  He…hadn’t expected the Brawler to undress in front of everyone to prove himself. There was no reason as to why Jinan of all people could’ve done this - so why did he need to prove himself? He couldn’t say that he didn’t find respect for wanting to do so in any other case, so he didn’t commentate on the matter.  After all, they were restricted from doing anything further than the arms and legs.

The others spoke as they did, giving off evidence as they pleased.  Whether it involved him or not was irrelevant; as long as they had moved the trial along at a brisk and timely pace, then everything would be fine.  As long as they knew for a fact that he was not the one who would commit such a heinous and frankly obvious murder, then he could be settled and calm.  Moriko was a shock, to say the least - he had expected her most of all to lash out at him. He didn’t expect the Detective to face the bullets known as her words.

The trial continued on; it flew by, even.  From Emberto blatantly insulting the way he felt about his own personal issues, to Yuna dismissing him from being more of a suspect.  It all seemed to travel on, and go by so fast, did it not? Then, Alma had stepped in, defending him and the Exorcist. She had stepped in, to shoot the first bullet.  She had stepped in to accuse the K-Pop Idol of murdering Akira Matsunaga. It was…actually a very likely possibility, the more that he thought on it. He couldn’t seem to understand why she would throw him under the bus so blatantly, however.  Wasn’t she an ally of his? For a moment, however, he was distracted by someone who did end up bringing forth the situation from before

For someone to be the same age as the belated Origamist, Meifen did seem to have a lot of morale and maturity to her.  Alastair himself couldn’t help but feel slightly impressed by the way she portrayed her views on the matter. Though she didn’t know what was behind the curtain, knowing that she believed it to be neither Alastair’s nor Akira’s faults was unexpected.  Wasn’t this his job? To be the one to take a view from both sides? Then, she cowers away, becoming meek, nervous…guilty? Why did she have any reason to feel guilt? That didn’t necessarily add up to the man with the long ponytail. Glancing towards her for a moment, he takes a breath in, before glancing away once again.

“…No need to feel guilty, Miss Jiang.  We…can discuss this later. Please don’t worry, alright?”

Was that guilt in his own eyes?  Who knows, but as soon as the Speedrunner had brought up another vital piece of evidence, his focus was drawn back to the case.  The strand of hair appeared to be the same color as his, but it also matched Hyo-rin’s did it not? Comparing that to what the Beachcomber had theorized earlier, there was only one clear answer left in his mind.  He turned to the girl, as Akito requested her to show her arms and legs for the purposes of this investigation. Once she had revealed her skin to show marks, he couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed. Would this turn into another round of Guess Who?  They didn’t have much time left…

…That is, until she confessed.  That is, until she spoke what seemed to be out of term for someone trying to defend themselves.  What was this? She had the evidence to pin everything against Alastair once more, so what gave her the idea to go on ahead and give herself away?  Make-up was seen to be the primary tool in her cover-up escapade, and then she spoke once more. She was trying to get out of this mess alive by bribing others into taking the incentive she used to murder.  To murder Akira. Before, he wouldn’t have cared any more, any less. Now though, considering everything that had happened in this trial room? Considering that she threw his name under the bus? Considering she outed information that she had no right to know?  Considering she was willing to have the audacity to try and convince everyone to let her live?

“̶̶̸̷̴̶̸̷̴̶̴̸̶̴̶̴̷̶̴̸̵̷̨̗͚̦̉Y̵̴̶̶̶̶̶̴̸̷̵̶̶̸̷̸̴̶̵̶̴̴̵̵̵̵̴̸̴̴̶̴̴̶͎̫̩̣̎̅͌͐͠o̵̵̶̸̷̴̶̸̴̷̵̴̶̶̷̵̴̷̶̶̶̵̴̷̵̸̶̴̭̾̽͐͋̑̉u̸̷̴̶̴̶̵̵̸̵̴̴̵̶̷̵̵̶̴̷̸̶̴̶̴̶̶̶̙̘̲̺̾̏̽ ̷̶̴̶̸̶̷̸̴̶̷̵̴̷̶̷̸̴̵̴̸̵̴̵̵̲̃̋̏̏̾w̴̶̸̷̶̵̷̷̷̷̷̶̵̵̶̴̷̶̵̸̴̵̸̴̷̴̵̵̶̷̷̸̴̸̸̸̴͖̺͎̯̩̟͌̽̋̋ö̸̸̴̷̴̵̷̴̴̶̸̵̶̵̷̸̴̵̴̷̸̴̸̶̴̶̷̴̴̷̶̴̷̵̶̷̵̧̧̗̩́͛̅̃̾̾u̷̸̷̸̶̶̸̷̷̸̷̷̵̴̴̶̵̷̸̷̵̶̵̸̴̸̴̴̸̸̷̡͍̙͈̳̍̌͜l̶̴̷̸̵̵̸̷̸̶̴̷̵̵̶̷̺̺̂d̸̵̴̵̶̸̶̸̷̶̸̸̶̷̵̸̶̶̵̷̵̶̼̤̗̓͜n̸̵̷̷̴̴̵̶̸̴̴̴̸̶̶̸̷̴̶̸̴̴̴̴̵̸̵̶̸̸̶̗͉̈́̾̓̀̈́͒’̵̸̵̴̶̷̷̷̷̴̸̸̷̷̸̴̵̶̵̵̷̷̴̴̴̶̷̷̨̮̦̫̯̕͜t̸̶̸̶̴̴̷̴̶̵̸̷̷̷̴̵̸̶̸̶̸̸̶̸̶̷̴̸̬̖̣͈͎͌͜ ̷̵̶̸̷̶̷̵̸̶̶̷̴̶̶̸̴̸̴̴̴̵̴̴̸̮̖̫͌̍̕w̵̷̵̸̷̸̴̵̸̶̶̶̵̸̴̴̵̶̵̷̶̷̷̸̴̵̶̴̧̹̻̯͗̔͠ȁ̷̸̶̴̶̷̵̴̶̴̵̷̶̸̸̷̸̷̶̸̴̴̵̵̶̷̷̴̵̸̸̱̰͐̈́̃̚n̶̴̴̴̵̸̵̶̴̶̶̴̷̴̸̵̷̵̶̪͙̻̐ṫ̴̸̸̷̶̵̷̵̷̵̴̸̴̵̶̵̲̦ ̷̵̸̶̷̵̴̵̶̸̵̷̶̸̵̴̵̸̴̸̷̴̴̴̵̵̵̵̘̙͓̹͕̊ͅt̵̵̵̸̴̷̷̴̵̵̸̴̶̴̷̵̶̶̴̙̿̿̕ȟ̸̶̴̷̴̸̴̷̴̴̴̴̷̴̶̸̷̶̴̶̵̴̡̡͔̰a̴̵̶̶̷̷̷̴̶̶̵̸̷̴̸̴̶̴̸̸̷̸̪͇̠̤͠t̷̸̴̶̸̶̴̷̸̸̶̴̵̵̷̴̸̵̴̵̸̶̸̵̵̵̵̵̖͇̬̀̓͘͝,̶̴̵̷̵̷̴̵̷̸̵̵̶̷̵̸̶̸̶̴̵̸̶̵̴̵̸̴̷̶̷̻̣̪̌̓̿̊̈́ ̵̷̶̸̷̶̶̵̵̶̵̷̷̷̵̵̡̗͗w̸̸̶̸̷̸̴̸̴̵̴̷̷̵̶̵̷̶̶̵̵̷̴̸̸͈̘̓̉́́ǫ̷̵̶̴̸̶̶̴̸̴̵̵̸͝u̶̵̷̵̸̷̴̶̵̶̴̴̴̷̷̴̸̸̶͍̟̙͐l̶̷̸̴̷̴̵̸̶̸̷̴̴̶̷̵̶̷̶̷̴̸̶̷̴̶̷̸̵̶̸̥͎̘̫̺͒̾̈́d̵̴̸̴̵̸̷̴̴̶̸̷̷̸̵̷̴̵̶̸̵̸̷̶̵̴̸̵̴̷̴̴̶̷̴̶̸̡̡̞̙̗̔̋̈́͑ͅ ̷̶̴̴̵̴̷̵̶̶̸̴̶̶̷̵̸̵̷̵̵̶̴̵̵̷̴̸̸̶̴̸̵̷̛̱̠͍̯́̂̾ͅy̸̴̸̶̷̵̵̵̶̷̶̶̵̷̸̸̴̸̵̸̸̵̶̷̴̜̝͓̔̈́͜ỏ̷̴̵̴̴̶̴̴̸̸̸̸̵̴̷̷̴̸̷̪̩̅ù̶̷̸̴̷̴̷̸̴̸̸̶̵̶̶̸̷̴̸̸̶̴̵̷̸̸̶̵̴̷̶̷̶̶̴̵̷̷̸̵̩͔̫̦̘̱͛́̆͝?̶̴̴̸̵̷̸̵̸̵̸̶̵̴̶̸̴̷̶̸̶̸͕̝̈́͊͗”̴̶̸̷̸̶̵̶̷̸̵̴̵̷̷̴̤̮͝

There wasn’t any way she was going to get away with this.

“Very well.  If you would like to discuss this matter, then let us discuss.  It’s only fair that we give the right to talk about this, since you oh, so kindly took my history with Mister Matsunaga, and used your passive nature to try and spin the blame onto me.  So, I’ll discuss this with you.” He did not seem to be pleased at all, even with that smile plastered upon his face. “I believe that going along with your motives is the most ridiculous idea I’ve heard in the entire duration I’ve stayed here. Yes, even more so than Miss Avila-Kim’s suggestion of breaking out through the windows.  You are asking us to take a fifty percent chance of dying in order to escape with our lives, while you can get out of the cross hairs you planted scot-free, are you not? This isn’t for us. This is for your own, desperate chances at survival. This is your last resort.”

“This wouldn’t be discussed if everyone believed you, now would it?  People would have been believing you if I didn’t speak up and admit the truth.  You were counting on me to become off-guard, and try to defend myself. But because that didn’t happen, you chose to go with Plan B, knowing that it would only make you gain distrust and hate for yourself.  This didn’t have to happen. If you had only bided your time, then you wouldn’t have murdered Mister Matsunaga. This was your choice, and you get to perish with it.” Then, all at once, his smile faded. His arms dropped to his side, and he opened his once more to gaze at her exhausted being.  For the first time, his eyes read something that no one, not even Akira himself had witnessed.

Loathing.  Unadulterated loathing.

“I pray that you are ready to face the inexorable consequences, Miss Park.”

[eleeria]

legal assistance;

@avyernan @jessipalooza @thepilgrimofwar I finally finished it... ))

--

The day was crisp in Silvermoon, the only reflection of winter elsewhere on the continent. The faintest cool breeze meandered through the city as Eleeria made her way towards the impressive offices of the magisterium. It was not a place she went to nearly as willingly as she made herself believe -- and certainly a place she would not go, had she any other choice. The entire building was oppressive: every eye seemed to be upon her as she entered, and whether that fact was true or not, Eleeria avoided the gaze of every magister and Phoenix Guard on the premises as she marched up the stairs to the appointed door. The thing was simple: the office was an older and larger one, belonging to someone who clearly had been an established Magistrix for many years. Eleeria steeled herself -- it’s just talking, and it’s Avyernan’s wife, right? What’s so scary about that? -- and knocked, shifting from one foot to another.

The door swung open silently -- an invitation, if there ever was one. Eleeria took a few, cautious steps into the room, glancing around at the decor. The room itself was immaculate: elegantly decorated in the colors of Quel’thalas, the paneling was a dark wood, interspersed with at least twenty bookcases, all stuffed full of heavy tomes. The woman that used the room clearly approved of cleanliness. Aside from a few stacks of paper on her desk, placed to one side so that the older Sin’dorei could see the chair across from her, there seemed to be no visible mess in the room. While Eleeria had not openly carried any weapons, her hands still moved to the ones concealed in her loose blouse and high-waisted pants as she and Dahliria exchanged glances. There was nothing about this situation that she trusted. Not a single inch of the assassin she had become was comfortable being in the veritable seat of Thalassian law, seeing the power of the State so ornamentally displayed around her in certificates, letters of thanks, and books that coated the shelves.

Her hands were stilled, however, by a melodious but sharp tone from the woman behind the desk. “I suggest that whatever weaponry you were reaching for stays out of sight for this meeting, Miss Silverwing.” Eleeria froze, eyes immediately making their way from the decoration back to the woman behind the desk. Muscular and shapely, Dahliria appeared to be an imposing figure in her own right, regardless of the warnings that Avyernan had offered to her. Blonde hair cascaded across her right shoulder, and although the older woman was modestly dressed for paperwork in a white and gold robe, the small rogue had the feeling that they would not have given her such a spacious office for no particular reason. Her verdant gaze was piercing -- nearly as sharp as Eleeria’s own, a strange thing to see compared to her rather beautiful features. But Eleeria took care to note the shape of the woman’s well-defined muscles, and promptly decided that in no way did she want Dahliria anywhere near her in a fight.

“How do you know my name.” It was a tense statement, filled with anger and hesitation. Dahliria raised an eyebrow, the corner of her full lips sloping up in a half-smile as Eleeria continued. “There aren’t any public records--”

“Oh, Miss Silverwing. Did you think that you are the only person in this city who can be clandestine? Sit, please. We have a good many things to discuss. I am not sending you to prison just yet.” Dahliria motioned to the chair in front of her desk. Warily, the other woman stalked to the plush seat, carefully lowering her body into it as if it was of a mind to eat her. “Now. My husband tells me that you are in need of my services through the magistrate, for several crimes that you believe you were falsely accused of committing. Know that I am not generally in the business of aiding the murderers of this city; generally I prefer the prosecution of such crimes and their like. If it was my decision entirely, I would have you in chains and shipped off to one of our cells immediately.” The woman smiled, fingers curled together as she leaned across the desk. Eleeria’s eyes widened, and the rogue half-stood from the chair -- to run or to fight, or perhaps both. “Sit,” Dahliria commanded. A flick of the mage’s wrist and finger, and the chair pushed against Eleeria’s legs, forcing her back into the seat.

Dahliria stood, lacing her fingers behind her back as she walked around the desk. The magistrix observed Eleeria with a keen eye as she paced deliberately. “Now then. It seems that for whatever reason, my husband feels something akin to a responsibility for aiding you. I did not care to pry into his sordid relationship with you -- there are many things about Avyernan’s time between the war and now that I am not keen on being privy to. But I can only imagine that, judging by the time in which you met him, he acted like quite the disreputable sort. Which leads me to believe, from that knowledge and your criminal records littering my files, that you are a disreputable sort, Miss Silverwing. May I call you Eleeria?”

“I--” Eleeria did not even get a chance to tell the taller woman absolutely not before she continued, a smoldering finger coming up to silence her complaints.

Dahliria moved behind the rogue, allowing Eleeria a view of the low back of her robe, which surprisingly graced the curve of her hip bones. As terrified as she may have been of the mage’s display of power, considering the subject matter, she had to admit that the woman was terrifyingly beautiful. Magical runes trailed her spine, from the base of her neck all the way to the edge of her low dress. Eleeria understood none of them, complex and graceful in script, but the power radiating from them was evident. Whoever this woman was in the magistrate, she was most certainly a mage of some power.

“Eleeria,” Dahliria began again, giving a thoughtful sniff as she continued to pace. “I am doing this as a personal favor for my husband, whom I love dearly. Although I do not normally cavort with murderers, for him I would do most anything in this world. I love him more than my profession, more than myself on most days, all things being considered. I hope, for your sake, that you are sincere and contrite in your request to seek legal aid.” Dahliria moved in front of the chair and leaned in, her nose only scant inches from Eleeria’s. The rogue had not been terrified -- truly terrified -- in some time. But the sudden look of anger, and the heat radiating from Dahliria’s body, told her that unlike her friend Felo’thore, Dahliria’s fire would be perfectly ready and willing to scorch her to death where she stood. “Because, should you somehow cause him pain by trivializing his aid, or somehow deceive me? I will hunt you down, with all of the tools of my office at my disposal, and ensure that you are locked in a cell for the rest of your rather long lifespan. You will be trapped, forever at the State’s mercy, and I will ensure that no matter if I die before you or not, that you will suffer for the rest of your miserable days. Do I make myself clear, Eleeria…?”

The rogue fell silent for a long moment. Nothing existed but the glare between the two women, and Eleeria could only think of one thing to say after such a speech. “Shit.”

“That is what I assumed you would say, and I shall take it as a ‘yes’.” As soon as the tension had arisen, it evaporated. Dahliria resumed her seat behind her desk, smiling at Eleeria as if she had not threatened the woman’s livelihood mere moments before. “Now...let us discuss these two incidents. I am your counsel, and you should not be afraid to tell me the entire truth. That will help me best make decisions in your favor. I will do what I can -- the Magistrate is not often known for letting murderers slip through their fingers. But for you, I will try my very hardest, Miss Silverwing.”

Eleeria could not allow herself to relax; every nerve was on edge from the threat that had been presented to her, and she found she could not calm down. Still, Eleeria somehow managed a sharp and slim smile, nodding once. It was a reasonable enough facsimile of her normal confidence, and even the faking of it did well for her nerves. “Fine. Now that you’ve given me the fucking speech of the century, what do you know, and what don’t you know?” A deep breath -- inhale, hold, and exhale -- and she smiled more naturally. Eleeria was intimidated, to be sure. Sitting in the power center of the Thalassian state, talking to a woman who appeared to be able to think circles around her on any given day, was incredibly terrifying. But Eleeria had never been easily cowed or defeated. She simply had to muster her courage and think; another breath, another smile, and the small rogue met the mage’s eyes easily, a sparkle of her normal determination shining through her cheshire facade. She could think her way through this political maze. She simply had to put her mind to it, rather than run from the challenge.

“I know only what the case files tell me.” Dahliria stood, giving Eleeria a curious gaze -- as if she were a strange puzzle of a woman -- before her attention turned to the file cabinets nearby. It floated open at her approach, a rather large series of folders magically pulling themselves from the drawer and depositing themselves in Dahliria’s hands. “Before you attempt to sneak into this building to retrieve these for yourself, know that the magic of the device only works for me and my superiors. Should you attempt to try, you would find yourself rather swiftly incarcerated.” The mage strode towards the desk again, pulling up the other armchair on the visiting side. With a huff, Dahliria put the files down in the center of the desk, pulling the first one into her lap so that Eleeria could see as well. “See?”

“What’s that say?” Thalassian -- all in tiny, scribbled handwriting -- made her head hurt. Eleeria frowned, leaning over and squinting at the font. “Lady, I’m not very good at reading in the first place. Whoever wrote that’s got to be some sort of serial scribbler, hm? Can you just paraphrase it for me, please~?” Eleeria batted her eyelashes at Dahliria, earning a small scowl and the briefest of sighs from the older woman.

Shaking her head to rid the hair from her eyes, Dahliria finally resigned herself to a nod. “Yes, I can ‘paraphrase,’ if you truly are illiterate.” Still, she left the file where Eleeria could see -- just in case. “This case is quite old, and the evidence for it appears to be nonexistent. It is as if you simply...disappeared on the eve of trial. Whatever the Lord Emberbough was doing in a back alley of the Murder Row, no one could deny that you were standing above him when he was found, dead in a pool of his own blood.”

“He tried to kill my friend!” Her response was angry and immediate. “Was I just supposed to sit there and watch him do it? Let her be the fucking body on the floor?”

“There is sometimes not a clean option, at least not where the law is concerned. The situation is quite old--” Dahliria paused, pursing her lips. The case was almost certainly as cold as the grave the previous Lord Emberbough now resideded in. But the woman Eleeria had saved, named Ahno’mera, seemed to still reside in the Fairbreeze Estate’s large cove-port on Sunstrider Isle. Certainly it would be a challenging case to litigate, but one with perhaps enough evidence in the younger woman’s defense that Dahliria would not have any difficulty in getting them to acquit the small rogue currently in her charge. “Well. It is old, but there is promise for us. Your foster mother appears to be still alive and well -- certainly able to testify. The prosecution also offered no evidence of intent, which factors in your favor. The more troubling case is the second charge, which happened only a few years past.”

Eleeria’s ears wilted slightly, but she frowned. “The fight in the exchange.” She remembered the fight without needing to look at the next case file. The newest charge was heavily documented, pictures and memorandums sticking out of the sides of the folder. Eleeria realized that she would need to think quickly to avoid any sort of fault here -- the fact that she had stabbed a man in the middle of Silvermoon while piss-drunk was not exactly a convincing excuse for acquitting a charge of murder. She bit her lip, appearing contrite and concerned for the moment as the magistrix spoke once more.

“Yes.” Dahliria met the other woman’s gaze calmly. “Explain to me what happened, in your own words. I have seen the reports from the city guard, but I would like to hear what you have to say for yourself before I consider our options.”

With a breath, Eleeria began: an actor on the stage of her life and livelihood, with no performance more convincing to the audience. “I don’t really remember it. I had just lost my hand--” She stuck out the left limb, which was without a knife and a wooden hand today, revealing the scars on her forearm. “And I was...upset. Someone started making fun of me for it. I remember being shoved up against a wall, and I was drunk, and a little high on bloodthistle. They tried to feel me up and I just snapped, right? I don’t even remember...I just remember seeing the guard, and running away. I got home and I was covered in blood and I don’t know -- I’m sorry.” She did seem, for all intents and purposes, genuinely sorry for her actions. “I really don’t remember very well.”

Dahliria nodded, pursing her lips in concern. “A simple intoxication defense could be offered on your behalf. However, running from the guard, and waiting so long to come to terms with the offense...Eleeria, these charges are serious. They will not simply accept that you were drunk when you were found after the man’s hands had been cut off.”

“You don’t have to fucking tell me that! I just need them gone. I don’t remember it. I wasn’t even able to comprehend what I was doing--” Dahliria stood, taking the files back to her desk and sitting them down in the center to peruse further. “You have to help. Please.”

“I will see what I can do.” The gears were already processing in Dahliria’s mind. Perhaps they could not completely erase the charges alone, but Quel’thalas was not exactly built on moral righteousness. A properly placed coin could easily sway minds -- the thought rankled her ordinarily earnest sensibilities. But for Avyernan she would do anything, including suggest something slightly less than legal, but certainly more than accepted in the practice as it stood. And truth be told, Eleeria’s earnest demeanor -- including the brief frustration at her own inability to remember -- was infuriating, and yet...the older woman sympathized with her plight. It was like speaking to a morally crooked version of herself. Certainly she had not been above murder, the one purposeful time it had occurred. Not to mention every death after that, with the machination of mana bomb after mana bomb -- indirect killings, but the blood of those victims stained her heart nonetheless. Those deaths laid heavy on her conscience, and although she was certain of the path she had taken in life, sure of her own self-worth and purpose, the chill of their skeletal fingers never stopped gripping at her heart. Perhaps, Dahliria thought, that by helping Eleeria relieve herself of her crimes, the magistrix also sought to remove the claws from her own heart. Quel’thalas had been forgiving of murderers and thieves many times in its past. She would see what she could accomplish with this one, as pert as she was. Their eyes met, and Dahliria sighed, sitting down at her desk and hiding her abruptly misty gaze behind stacks of paperwork.

Eleeria watched the older woman process her feelings behind Dahliria’s solid courtier’s mask of emotion, wondering what she was thinking. Dahliria Goldenwood was anger incarnate: a righteous justice, the sword of fire. She could almost see the flames that curled inside of the older magistrix. They were flames that the older woman had used to strengthen herself, by shaping their wrath to her purpose. But as the woman spoke about the law, Eleeria had developed her plan for finding her way out of this legal trouble, smoothly and seamlessly. Sympathy was not an emotion she was personally capable of, but Eleeria could see that Dahliria had it in spades. As the intelligent woman had spun the tale of Eleeria’s upcoming legal drama, the rogue knew that should could manipulate that emotion to her advantage, getting the magistrix to jump through hoops for her she had not initially intended. The fact that she seemed personally interested in the partially false tale was all for the better.

The last account of the brawl in the Exchange had, of course, been entirely made up -- Eleeria knew as well as anyone that killing a man in the city center was not going to go over well with the government. While the first charge was a triviality -- easy enough to disprove with a good lawyer -- the second would require lies, and some persuasive sniffles and tears. The real account was much different in the telling. The dead man had, in fact, shoved her into the wall -- but she had easily disarmed him, and had been well in the process of dismembering him when the guard arrived. He was some asshole looking for a quick lay, and assumed the drunk woman with a missing hand would be a good candidate for a fuck. Eleeria had snapped so easily, drunk and angry at herself and the world. The story was different in earnest, but sounded much better the way Eleeria had casually manipulated it for Dahliria’s ears. Certainly it seemed to draw much more sympathy from the magistrix than she had expected -- and certainly more enticing than a remorseless story about dismembering a man limb from limb. It would inspire more of the woman’s aid than the cruel rogue ever could in reality, and that was all that mattered. However, Eleeria kept those feelings to herself, carefully hiding her plot behind an expression of vague neutrality. “So...what next?”

“I need some time to figure out my next steps. The first charge is, of course, the easier of the two to combat -- the second will require some...maneuvering. You will hear from me in a few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Eleeria paused, startled.

“Of course.” Dahliria finally mastered her sympathetic emotions. She blinked her eyes rapidly, glancing up from behind the hefty pile of paperwork once she had hidden her sympathies behind a cultured, emotionless mask once more. “The law takes time and patience. I will do my work for you, if you have both of these things.” She paused, before amending. “That, and if you have a rather hefty sum of gold. I am not offering you a free service.” Dahliria named her fee with a sharp smile -- she had, of course, been informed by her husband that Eleeria could pay quite handsomely for her services. A gift to her husband these cases may have been, but she was not providing a gift to one of Silvermoon’s notorious assassins.

“Wait-- what?” That was an actual startle -- Eleeria sat up stiff and straight in her chair. Was Dahliria expecting to extort her? That was a lot of money, the fee ringing in the greedy rogue’s ears.

“Agree to pay, or I ask you to leave now and not return, Eleeria.”

“...Say that number one more time?”

The shriek of the money-loving rogue, and the laughter of the vicious mage that followed, echoed down the halls of the magisterium.

[sarahsfeministthoughts]

Week Thirteen: April 15th: The Human Wave: Immigration Stories

I was an accident. I wasn’t suposed to be here. Screams and sobs of sorrow filled the delivery room... as my mother had disobeyed the unspeakable rules… my mother had destructed her perfect white porcelain lineage… my daddy was brown.

My father, Jose, immigrated to New York City from Peru in 1969, at just 5 years old. He didn’t know the language but he knew Kung Fu. He had a severe obsession with martial arts legend Bruce Lee and committed his life to becoming just like him. He grew up in the projects of the Bronx and fought on the street every day, gaining a name for himself, taking down gangs and defending those who needed help. He was able to work his way up to eventually getting himself his own school and becoming a “Sifu” - the master. One day, my mom, Ingrid walked into his Kung Fu School…

I was born 9 months later.

The color of my skin being so light cushioned the fall a little…and once my eyes opened and were so big and blue, my mother’s family embraced me. They believed I didn’t do anything wrong… and if they shaped me right, banned me from learning Spanish or embracing any parts of my Latina identity… they believed I could be saved, pass as fully white and live a prosperous, privileged life, eventually marrying a rich white boy to solve and close the chapter on the inconvenience of my ingeneity.

My mother’s family provided us with a huge townhouse in the West Village upon my birth. They then filled our home with endless servants of color that were actually paid to be spies to report back on my father. Though he could not speak Spanish to me within such a controlled and monitored household, I began to learn about my Latina culture in other ways. My dad was “machismo” and he practiced that in different ways.

Firstly, the whole first floor of our house became my dads new Kung Fu school so I witnessed blood and violence every day and became very used to it. This was the frankest expression of his masculinility. The house always had atleast 10 men in it in workout clothes beating the shit out of eachother. This was taken further as all the media he forced me to consume was Chinese Kung Fu movies with eye balls being ripped out and heads flying across the room. I certainly wasn’t watching any teletubbies.

He felt the need to exercise control over me. This especially impacted my self expression as a girl. My “girlness” was curtailed by him and he would rip any skirt or dress that Gigi, my grandmother would gift me. He forced me to wear clothes of his choosing - picked from the boys section - big jeans and big tshirts with thermals underneath (even in the summer) out of a hyper fear of me being sexualized by men. To him, he was protecting me. He also would brush my teeth for me, telling me that I wouldn’t do it properly myself and practiced any way he could within the house to exert dominance that he couldn’t in the outside world.

I understood the sharp contrast between the social class and privilege differences between my mother and father at a very young age simply by the lifestyles. When visiting my fathers family, I would share a bed with 6 cousins. When visiting my mothers family, a chauffer would pick me up, maids would iron my church clothes, wake me with strawberry milkshakes and chefs would spoil me with whatever I desired. I was scolded at the dinner tables for not having proper table etiquette… however I had learned from my dad to just pick up a whole chicken and start tearing into it with no need of silverware.

My mother’s family didn’t understand his behavior and saw him as the biggest threat to my wellbeing and development. Therefore, my mother’s family worked hard to destroy the connection I had to my father. They did this in many ways.

Firstly, they tried to force me to associate the help (all persons of color) as “less then” as I’d watch them be pushed around, ordered and abused. I watched as they exercised their power over the help and I suppose they had intended for me to glamorize or romanticize how “powerful” they were.

Secondly, they gave me access to resources where I could access “superior exclusive knowledge” and paid for me to go to the most prestigous and expensive whitewashed academies where there were never more than 3 students of color and all of them were identified by their dependency on food stamps or the details of their scholarship. They were applauded for their brilliance, as if they were magnificent exceptions to their kind… and I quickly understood the truth was there were just not equal opportunities being given to them for them to even get to a level and equal playing field.

And probably most importantly, they endlessly attempted to assure me it was necesary for me to break any relations with my brown father and made sure I learned the word “golddigger”.

I was 5 years old when police sirens shattered me out of my sleep and 4 big men broke into my room with guns and dragged me out. I didn’t even cry, and later it was revealed to me that that was a concerning sign to them but I guess I was just so used to the chaos. I saw my daddy being ushered towards a cop car with handcuffs, held by multiple men. I locked eyes with him. He was humiliated. They had demasculated my father. They cradled me and they pushed and shoved him, smashing his face against the vehicle. I was 5 years old but I realized then and there that in this world, his life did not matter… but mine did. I had a voice… but he never would.

“Does your daddy ever touch you?”

What is a 5 year old suposed to say to that?

My mom was able to get him out eventually and the sexual assault against a minor charges were dropped… but our story was nowhere from over. Within two months, he was arrested again for “kidnapping” me. I understood that due to the color of his skin, my father was deemed as inevitably guilty of something. My father’s skin color made him a criminal… and my skin color made me his pure, fragile, victim.

I saw this even when I’d walk the streets with him hand in hand… the dirty looks I would recieve. I was being shown that by choosing to stand by my father, I was choosing the “losing” side. It would be easier to gallavant off with my mothers family and comfortably explore their manchines across the world. However, I loved my father and I could not let go of him. I was ready to reap the consequences of this.

My mother was hit first - they cut her money supply that she was dependent on and kicked us out of our townhouse, forcing us to struggle to find a rental within such short notice. We had come home to everything we owned outside of our townhouse. I began to associate my mother’s family with evil.

My mom turned to alcohol in her sadness and had great difficulty adjusting to such a simpler life. Desperate for money, my mom did as was as asked and my father was kicked out. I couldn’t help thinking how society had won.

She entered a new relationship immediately… He was (and is) an extremely dangerous alcoholic with a really bad temper. His name is Willy. He was actually one of my dad’s Kung Fu students.

He was (and is) extremely abusive and banged on my door every night to try to get in. I had to move my dressers in front to try to protect myself.

He encouraged my mothers alcoholism and they my mother began to abuse me as he abused her and I was the only one that she had the power to hurt. Child services visited almost every day as I’d come to school with bruises across my body. I never told on her. I just wanted to get through. Atleast once a month, she’d take it too far. I’d find her collapsed in her room with bottles scattted around her body, like flowers at a funeral. I took her to the hospital each time and they would say the same thing: “You’re going to kill yourself and leave your daughter all alone in this world.” She didn’t care. She loved alcohol more. She loved Willy more.

I was not safe within the confinements of school either. There, it was my gender that I began to learn about and experience how that made me a target.

My Math teacher requested my phone number and then used that to excessively attempt to facetime me and serenade me with emoji filled messages. He convinced me to join him alone in the school on weekends for extra help. When I went foward with my truth, I was shamed and told, “He’s such a nice guy!” and accused of lying and put on academic prohbation. This showed me that a white man could get away with anything and as a girl in relation to that, my word meant nothing.

My English teacher promised me A’s in exchange for my silence on his expressions of affection towards me. His flash went off when taking photos of me during a midterm.

Maybe, most impressively, the principal of my school developed a crush on me which caused him to impede upon my learning due to his need of constantly seeing me. A secretary would stick her head into every classroom door I was in and I would sink into my seat, knowing. “The principal needs to see you, Sarah.” I began whispering: “Do I have to…” When I would then sit across from him, he would pry about my daddy issues and offer me comfort I had never asked for. He would rub my back and play with my hair and I’d hold my breath and try to take my mind elsewhere.

When I was 14 years old, I was asked out by one of the only black kids in my school. Scholarship kid. I became super dependent on him because I had no one else. He learned about my family dynamic. He understood my vulnerabilities. He began to abuse me too. He told me he would kill me if I left him, and then he told me that I couldn’t tell anyone because he was black. And the sad part is I actually understood what he meant.

When I turned 18, I gained access to financial privilege - trust funds. I escaped. I moved out the same day. I was able to gain self power by drowning withself within my studies - allowing intersectional feminism to lead me and rescue me and allow me to understand how the personal is political and build the strength to stand up for myself. I now have a restraining order against my ex boyfriend and my mothers boyfriend as she still hasn’t been able to find her own strength to leave. I’m trying to work on personal relationships with both my mother and my father.

It saddens me everyday the realization that most kids in situations like me are trapped. My financial privilege saved me. This is a unique experience and it makes it that I have to do whatever I can to help those not as fortunate as me. No one should be stuck. I know what it feels like.

Overall, my identity is complex. I am biracial, yet I pass as white. I am a woman and that makes me unsafe in this world. I also have grown up experiencing two opposite socio economic classes and lifestyles. I have survived childhood abuse. I then survived domestic violence.

These markers of my identity make it impossible for me to choose to tune out and be ignorant to the injustices in our world. I believe that it is because of this that there is no better place for me than being a Global Studies major.

Everything is personal to me.

To me being a citizen in this world means doing my part to break every silence I’m expected to keep, no matter how hard it may be, because it cannot be underestimated how much this could help someone else.

I see so clearly all the interconnections of oppression and struggle as I have myself lived it. Therefore, to me, to be a true citizen of the globe is to embrace all these pieces that made me who I am and using them as fuel to be an advocate and pioneer for the change I want to see to better our world.

I will continue to share my authentic experiences and making sure that I use the that I have for good. I could have turned away, blinding myself from my Peruvian roots and taking the easier way -- I was shown directly the luxuries and peace I would experience if I was to fully seperate from my Latina and identify as white… but I chose not to. I chose to tune in and there is no going back now.

[mysteryshelf]

BLOG TOUR - The Solicitor

Welcome to

THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF by Pump Up Your Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

  Title: THE SOLICITOR Author: Sean Keefer Publisher: Four Hounds Creative Pages: 386 Genre: Mystery

When you make your living fighting for justice, the last place you expect to wake up is behind bars.

Attorney Noah Parks has spent his life keeping people out of jail.  When he’s charged with the murder of a candidate for Charleston County Solicitor he finds himself on the wrong side of the law for a crime he says he didn’t commit.

No longer fighting for others and now relying on the help of the few people he does trust, Noah must fight to clear his name and find the real killer before it’s too late.

His search will lead him through a maze of deceptions, lies, family turmoil and treachery that spans generations.

The Solicitor is set in historic Charleston and the surrounding South Carolina Lowcountry where under the surface things are not always as genteel as they appear.

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INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR:

  What initially got you interested in writing?

One day I had a “What if…” thought about a rather intriguing legal situation. I started thinking about it more and more. When I realized I wasn’t going to shake the thought, I started writing and my first book was the product.

  What genres do you write in?

I write in the mystery/thriller genre. As I live in, and write about, South Carolina, you could likely get away with putting “Southern” before either of those monikers.

  What drew you to writing these specific genres?

I believe that I am a product of you write what you read and I have always been attracted to the mystery and legal thriller genre as a reader so it was an obvious choice for me to start in this realm as a writer.

  How did you break into the field?

Dogged determination and unyielding persistence. Since I have started writing, I have kept asking myself, “What can I do to make myself a better writer?” Then I try to do just that.

  What do you want readers to take away from reading your works?

I want readers to be able to step away from their lives, even if just for a moment, to get lost in the characters you will find in my books. Beyond that my hope is that readers will keep wanting to come back for more.

  What do you find most rewarding about writing?

There is little I enjoy more than talking to readers and getting feedback on my writing. I know time is a commodity for everyone so for readers to take the time to read my writing, I am flattered and humbled.

  What do you find most challenging about writing?

For me finding the time to write when balancing the other commitments I have.

  What advice would you give to people wanting to enter the field?

All that separates writers from non-writers is having something on paper that can be edited and expanded. If you want to be a writer, just write. Then keep writing. Start with a story and get it on paper. Then edit it to make it better.

  What type of books do you enjoy reading?

I still enjoy mysteries and thrillers, though Southern literary fiction is one of my favorite genres. I also enjoy reading cookbooks and good horror and suspense.

  Is there anything else besides writing you think people would find interesting about you?

For some reason people find it entertaining that I am a vegetarian who loves to make barbeque and cure bacon. When I’m not writing or cooking, I’m generally playing guitar or keeping people happily divorced. That and I have four dogs and a portion of the proceeds from my writing go to canine rescue groups.

  What are the best ways to connect with you, or find out more about your work?

Visit SeanKeefer.com or connect with me on Facebook at @TheNoahParksMysteries or on Instagram at @TheNoahParksMysteries.

            Prologue:

The sun’s arrival just as it cleared the horizon had always marked my favorite time of day. It wasn’t unusual to find me at dawn on the Carolina shore gazing to the east in anticipation, the ocean breeze softly brushing my face. The fleeting moments when the first rays of sunlight painted an explosion of color were more than enough to leave me knowing I was fortunate having witnessed it. Those, those were my favorite mornings and anything that followed was a bit less complicated, easier to handle.

I found myself in desperate need of such a morning.

But today there would be only cold concrete.

For the past five days, my sunrise had been a sliver of light crawling across the floor of my jail cell.

At first, I’d looked forward to it, but on the third day I realized I’d need a lot more to get me through the day, otherwise, that mere slice of sun would soon be pushing me into the icy grip of depression.

I’d quickly learned jail had a way of ushering in melancholy, even for the most optimistic. Most everyone inside, even the guards, were simply miserable.

My bail hearing had been a waste of everyone’s time. Accused murders don’t get bail with their first request, sometimes not on the second, if at all. The fact I’m a lawyer wasn’t helping. The last thing a judge wants to do is give the impression that a lawyer, particularly a criminal attorney like me, is entitled to special treatment.

Things change fast. Days earlier, my life, while not perfect, had been good.

I’d taken my girlfriend to the airport to catch a late-night flight to Chicago. She’d recently relocated to Charleston, but was wrapping up her ties to Chicago.

After returning from the airport, I turned on ESPN, eager to hear what the talking heads had to say about the South Carolina Gamecock’s next football game. As was the case for most Gamecock fans, their football season sanity ebbed or flowed with the team’s weekly performance.

It was a cool fall night and the windows were open as I watched TV from bed, my dog at my feet. Both he and I looked up as we heard a car outside–odd for that time of night in our quiet neighborhood.

The sound of the doorbell was even more unexpected, so much so I didn’t immediately get up. Rarely did anyone just drop by, especially near midnight. The second ring was immediately followed by a knock. I got out of bed, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and went down the stairs. Austin, my Australian Shepherd, was barking and jumping beside me as I unlocked the door. He sat on my command.

I opened the door to the sight of a tall black man in plainclothes with a Charleston Police Department badge on his belt. Three uniformed Charleston County deputy sheriffs flanked him. Three police cars occupied my drive. An unmarked cruiser in the cul-de-sac completed the scene. Thankfully none had their lights on. I shifted my gaze back to the officers. Not a smile among them.

This couldn’t be good, I remember thinking.

 “Noah, how about I come in?” Emmett Gabriel said. He looked me straight in the eyes. We were the same height, just under six feet tall, but the lack of a smile, his badge, and the deputies that flanked him made him feel bigger and much stronger than me.

 I’d heard his voice many times before. At the police station, in his backyard, over a meal, on my back deck, other times through the years but never near midnight with other police officers standing on my front porch.

“Since when have you ever asked permission to come in the house?  What’s wrong?”

“Noah, let’s talk inside?”

I just stood in the doorway. Silent and motionless.

One of the officers behind him coughed, jarring me back to reality.

I stepped to the side. “Sorry, certainly, come in.”

“Wait outside,” Gabriel said to the deputies.

We walked down the short hallway into my living room in silence.

 “Where’s Anna Beth?”

A feeling of panic ran through me as he asked about my girlfriend.

“Is she okay?”

“As far as I know. She not here?”

“No. Chicago trip.”

The feeling of panic faded to one of wonder, wondering why at midnight a detective I knew was standing, unannounced, in my living room while three other anxious officers were staged on my front porch. I asked why he was here. Wonder quickly faded with the next words I heard.

 “The officers outside have a warrant for your arrest.”

Having never been one to miss the obvious, I remember uttering my insightful reply, “A warrant?”

“Yes, for the murder of Andrew Stephens.

  While growing up in South Carolina, Sean didn’t realize it, but he was absorbing the styles, mannerisms, idiosyncrasies, dialects and the culture of his home. Add to this the time he spent traveling the other Carolina for school and then North America for work, he collected a vast array of experiences and observations from which to draw upon and bring together in his writing.

After studying law in North Carolina, Sean settled in Charleston, South Carolina and instantly became enamored with the people as well as the city.  

One day he started writing and the words, generally, kept flowing. A page became a chapter which ultimately became a book known as The Trust. After this the process started again and The Solicitor was the end result. Hopefully, if you are reading this you either have, or soon will have, your very own copy of one or both.   

The experience of taking two novels from conceptualization to print has been one of frustration peppered with increasing amounts of reward.  Each step from the first words hitting the page to ultimately holding a book in hand has been a personal reward.

When Sean is not writing he practices Family Law and works as a Domestic Mediator and lives with his Wife and an ever-expanding pack of rescue canines – the current count is 4.  As well, Sean can frequently be found wandering the lowcountry of South Carolina with his camera, playing guitar in assorted venues around Charleston or exploring the underwater world of the southeast.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK

    BLOG TOUR – The Solicitor was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf with Shannon Muir

[brilliant-uneasiness]

Am I wrong?

Was talking to this guy online for a while. He lived in California so it was not to far from me. But I don’t do long distance so I didn’t ever start anything with him and he thought the same thing. For a while things were fine. 

Then this thing happened where he showed a few different colors. I told him off for upsetting one of my friends online and he said that he did not care about this person’s feelings. It was very frustrating because I don’t like seeing my friends hurt and he was the one that hurt them. I really don’t know how this happened but he ended up turning the whole argument around and made me look like the bad guy and made it seem like I was the one who hurt him and that he was now very upset with me. I CANNOT for the life of me remember how that happened and the longer I think about it the more I think he was just manipulating the situation. The next day he said he was over whatever he was upset with me about and things went back to normal.

Maybe a week went by. Things were going fine and we got alone very well. He was super sweet towards me and was actually talking about coming to visit me if I would like that. He was in the middle of organizing a move to Arizona with his brother to help him with his business plans. I did nothing but support him.

Now I want to clear something up. My personality is weird, but I would not say it to weird to handle. I sometimes will banter back and forth with my friends by throwing funny insults at them and we’ll go back and forth until we end up talking about something else. I will support my friends through anything but I will NEVER cradle them. I will be straight up with them if they are being a shit head or an ass hole or something like that. I will call people out for their shit if I KNOW they are full of it. I can’t help that, that is who I am, that is my personality. I am just very honest and blunt.

I will not go into full details about California guy’s life as it is very personal and it could potentially hurt him, me or other people around him if I just went and spewed his personal baggage/issues online. Now for me, I am an open book. There are very few things I wont tell people about myself and I think that is the smart thing to do. I’ve had experiences with guys online where I talked to them for about two weeks and then they tell me that they’re a pedophile...not fun. I do not like being called a bitch. That is pretty much the only thing I don’t like my friends saying to me.

So back to the situation on hand. We’re talking on voice chat about shit..can’t remember what exactly but I called him a bitch in a joking way. I IMMEDIATELY took it back and apologized and said that I should not have said that and it slipped out and I was VERY sorry. Unfortunately, as I was apologizing, he was talking over me saying that what I said was double standards, which I totally agreed with, which is why I took it back. BUT he didn’t stop there. He started throwing insults my way, which I tried to laugh off because I thought we were having friendly banter. He called me old, which he said he would never do again because it did bug me a bit. He THEN proceeded to critique my love life. He said that since I was old and could not hold a relationship, that I had commitment issues and that is why I was single. I left the voice call immediately. 

I wouldn’t say I was even mad right way, I was more confused then anything. I told him he was being very mean. He told me that he didn’t like to be called a bitch either. I told him this is why I said sorry right way and took it back. We proceeded go back and forth on why I would not join back into the voice call. He seemed to be so confused on why I left but I explained that I didn’t like my personal relationship issues/baggage being thrown in my face when none of it was true. He finally understood after a bit of explaining why I refused to join. 

What really annoyed me about our argument after I left the voice call was that he took a very long time to respond to me every time I messaged him and it seemed like what we were talking about was not important to him, which I told him. He said that he would not be having this conversation if he didn’t think it was important, which really annoyed me because I didn’t want to sound annoying by saying “well why are you not responding right away” because he was responding, he was just taking a good 10 minutes between to respond.

What also pissed me right off was that this all could have been solved and fine if he could just say sorry. His version of saying sorry was “I'm sorry my jokes were too harsh” which if anyone knows, is not an apology at all, it’s more of an apology to yourself.

I accepted the “apology” anyways and asked if he was mad with me, which he responded with “slightly”. I asked him to explain and his response was that “it's not alright that you can say what you'd like and I can't” ...fucking hell

Not only did I say sorry for calling him a bitch, I took it back and said that I should not have said that AND apologized again in text to him. I never EVER said that I could call him things that he cannot call me. I have only ever said that I don’t like being called bitch. So you can imagine how pissed I was right now. But I kept my composure and kept trying to resolve this.

So I apologized AGAIN. He proceeded to say: “this was a recurring thing for you” and “you tend to say things you don’t mean a lot”

Back to my personality thing, I tend to banter at my friends, but I do let them know that I am just joking. 99% time they know this don’t care and take no offense and just call me a “slut” back.

So I disagreed with him. I told him that I don’t agree with what he said and that I didn’t know what to tell him. I told him that I was not perfect and shit slips out of my mouth and that I don’t ever recall saying things I don’t mean. I then proceeded to say that I don’t EVER bring up him relationship issues and that bring up mine was not something he should joke about. This is what he responded with: “I make mean jokes sometimes. Normally as a retort towards someone”

I’m sorry...and what was I doing? THE EXACT SAME THING? THANKS.

I’m not saying that what I said was nice at all, which is why I said sorry and took it back. BUT I am saying what he did was way worse and VERY uncalled for and childish and the fact that he could not even say “sorry” was even more fucking stupid and hurt me even more.

I said sorry (again) that he was mad and that if he wanted to talk in voice chat about it. He asked if I felt comfortable again and I said no because I was horribly pissed.

He then asks why, like it was not obvious or something. I told him that him taking shots at my relationship issues and that him thinking that I say things I don’t mean a lot makes me angry because I don’t believe that at all. He responded  with that fact that he said sorry about the first thing (he didn’t) and that I should not be worried if he said these things about my relationship issue if they are not true. I proceeded to tell him that I should be worried because him having those impressions from me really annoys me because I never gave him the impression that I have commitment issues. I told him that I was just going to be mad for a bit and he said “that's fine. it happens to the best of us”.

I asked him where he got these impressions and he said he got the these impressions when I called him a bitch and took it right back after.

Now...let me get this straight. You got these impressions from an occurrence that happened not 10 minutes ago. Something that happened once...10 minutes ago. Wow...this guy.

I told him that I was not perfect and he proceeded to tell me that “you will insult me and apologize afterwards it happens recurringly” (this is copy paste so sorry for any spelling mistakes)

So I’m sure I don’t have to go back to my personality thing because we talked about that enough.

I told him that was who I was, I will call someone a slut in a joking matter but I also like to clarify with people that I am joking (especially if it’s someone who does not know me and my odd personality). NOW here is my mistake, I told him if it really bugs him then I will stop.

You are probably wondering why I think I shouldn’t have said that. Well lets put it this way, if your personality is odd and weird and you’ve had it for your whole life (duh) and this ONE person is insulted by it, should you change yourself for this one person? No. Never change for people. 

Now when it comes to more sensitive people, of course I’m not going to go up to them and say “HEY SLUT” but as I said, I have been talking to California guy for a month now and he has NEVER brought up the fact that he was annoyed by our playful banter.

Also may I say, just the day before, he was jokingly calling me a whore? Now I didn’t care really but if I did, I WOULD have brought it up at that second like he should have done IF I did insult him a lot.

Back to what happened. This is where it get’s bad. These are his words: “I don't think anyone likes to be constantly demeaned, jokingly or otherwise”. Now I didn’t think of this until later after we stopped our conversation, but what he was saying was that I was “abusing” him. Not many people know this but demeaning someone is a form of abuse. I have been in a relationship like that, it was horrible. The person contently put me down, call me useless, an idiot, stupid, ugly. But at the same time stayed with me and controlled my actions. He would control what I would do everyday and make me feel bad for EVEN going to work and not spending time with him. He would control who I hung out with and control what I ate and always put me down in front of our friends. 

Again I didn’t know that he was accusing me of this until I thought about it later. So when he said that I constantly demeaned him I denied it immediately. I mean I did think about it of course, I thought about any time that could have happened and I can tell you right now, it never did and I was NOT happy being accused of this. Of course he chalked it down to saying that it was his opinion and that is how he felt and I could not convince him otherwise. 

I told him fine and that I would stop if he wanted me to. That is when we stopped talking for the night because he had to go to bed.

NOW I don’t know if you noticed what he did through out this whole conversation. I didn’t even notice until later. Well I will tell you, he took EVERYTHING and turned it around and made me the bad guy in this whole situation. Even the thing I was hurt by he turned it around and manipulated the situation into him being the hurt one, him being the one that was insulted, him having issues. HE brought up these so called “issues” with me demeaning him RIGHT THEN when it was convenient for him to make me look like the bad guy. If my odd personality with banter REALLY did bother him, he could have brought it up when it happened and not when it was convenient for him.

Now I never used the word manipulative until my friend brought it up. She also used the term “victim complex” which was interesting but that’s an explanation for another time.

So the next day I explained to him all of this. I was blunt like I always am and told him about how it was convenient for him to bring up what bugged him now and that he just turned it all around to make him the victim. I also brought up that what he was doing was telling me that I was abusing him. Again, his responses were slow and he never answered ANY of my accusations other then the fact that I don’t agree with him that I “abuse” him. He said again that it was his opinion.

Now I want you to prepare yourself for this next statement that he made. It was either one of the most stupidest things or selfish things I have ever read from a guy.

I told him that I didn’t know why he was still talking to me if he thought I was abusing him and he responded with: “since you're the type of person who will change based on another person's wishes, I can ask you to stop and you will and since you now know I don't like that sort of joking, you'll stop doing it. therefore, I have nothing to feel uncomfortable about”

To dumb is down a bit, basically what he is saying is that “you will change your personality for me because I don’t like it and I have nothing to worry about”.

Yes, I know right? What a fucking ass hole.

I told him that he has mistaking me for agreeing with him, that I NEVER demeaned him at all. I told him I was mad that he decided to bring this all up when I was hurt and that he did it when it was convenient for him to turn everything around and make me look horrible when if it DID actually bother him, he could have said something earlier. So basically what I have already explained here.

 Again, he never answered any of my accusations, all that he said was: “you were making a mean joke and I made one back. That's just what I do. I didn't do it maliciously, so much as in response to you”. His version of a mean joke was to attack my personal issues/baggage and my “mean joke” was to call him a bitch, which I apologized for as I said.

So I asked him if that was all a joke. He said: “yes, that was the joke malicious as it was” ...and he calls me demeaning?! 

Again I denied EVER being demeaning or abusive. He responded with “okay. I've told you I perceived your comments to be very demeaning. If my opinion upsets you in an irreparable way, then we don't need to talk anymore, in order to maintain your comfort.”

So I agreed, I told him that we should stop talking for a while because it seems that we are just annoying each other. He said if that is what I want then okay and I said yes.

So we stopped talking for a while. It was a little bit here and there in open discord channels and in my friend twitch channel. We didn’t talk for a pretty long time and I believe that really annoyed him. Now my experience with him has taught me that he is a VERY jealous person. He has told me in his own words this as well. 

Now I thought I was a jealous person....well he makes me look normal as hell.

He would hate ANY guy who flirted with me. So it went where I would just not tell him anything that happened because I never wanted to upset him. You gotta understand, I know it does not look like it, but I actually really liked him. Even through all that bull shit I wanted to forgive him, but with all my experience with manipulative people, I knew I couldn’t talk to him again like we use to.

It was not until he started lashing out at me in my friend’s stream that I noticed how unstable he was. His past issues made him into an unlikable person and he said things that he seemed to not care/know hurt other people. As my father always told me “think before you talk” as in think about how your words will affect others before saying them, which he had no concept of it seemed. Especially since he told me that he didn’t care about the feelings of anyone else online.

He would never admit that him lashing out at me in my friends stream was because of his issues with me not talking to him anymore. I know him to well that he would NEVER admit to it. This is why I have not talked to him still, his ego is to huge. 

I try my best to not say a WORD to him in chat. I don’t want to. He still tries to talk to me but I refuse. 

I really hope one day he thinks about what he had done. I hope he realizes that not just his feelings matter but the ones around him as well. And I really hope he realizes that he hurt me and that manipulating people is wrong. And I REALLY hope he learns how to apologize to people. 

I just feel so broken all the time that it didn’t work out. I think about if that it turned out differently would I be happy? I’m not trying to be a victim and I’m not looking for any pity...I just want to feel better.

So am I wrong anywhere here? Should I have done something different? 

yea.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #54

“girls are not supposed to fight dirty, never look a day past 30.”

have you ever witnessed a birth?   for humans, no, but cats, yes. do you buy eggnog around the holidays?   this was the first year i tried it.  fucking gross. do you know any one who lives in california?   no friends, but i mean i've "met" some people online who live there. have you ever been told you were a good writer?   that's one of the most common compliments i get. have you ever been on a farm?   yes.  ashley had a friend who lived at one. what are you listening to?   "girls" by marina and the diamonds.  i love her voice so much. are you one to take naps?   every day, yeah.  makes me feel lazy occasionally, but then i remind myself naps are good for you. did you ever have braces?   for too long, yes.  i had them so long that my bottom teeth went in too far; we couldn't afford to take them out.  thank god they're gone now. how often do you drink monster?   never.  i don't like it. are you easy to get along with?    if you're understanding, then i honestly think i am.  i'm very tolerant of different people and try to keep my mind open.  i'm just going to be quiet. is there someone you want to let go of?   yes and no.  i feel both emotions towards jason. who was the last person to have to deal with you having an attitude?   my mother, i'm sure. have you ever suspected anyone of cheating on you?   nope. does your bedroom door lock?   yeah. the last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner?   i never use conditioner.  it adds oil back into your hair. has your partner ever accused you of cheating when you actually didn’t?   no. how old were you when you had your first kiss?   the first time a boy kissed me, i think i was 15?  first time i kissed a boy, i was 16, i think. if I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer?    metallica, please! would you ever get into a long distance relationship?   i mean i guess if i really liked the person. for your birthday, what kind of cake do you ask for?   doughnut cake from annie's. would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents?    carve pumpkins! do you believe in fairies?   nope. if you were given the chance to be immortal, would you take it?   NO. what are you tired of people telling you?   that shit will get better.  you don't know that.  some people don't get happy endings, that's just life. do you have a little sister? what’s her name?    nicole, yes. when you graduate, what color will your gown be?   when i graduated, it was an ugly red. when you were a baby, did you have a favorite blanket?   yes.  it had baby animals all over it. have you ever gotten detention?   yes, for too many tardies. why do you hate your ex?   who says i hate him? do you like the color orange?   yup. whose hoodie did you wear last?   my own.  it has pikachu sleeping on it and says "current mood."  it's super cute. do you think that you’re good enough for the one you like?   if i'm being rational, yes.  if i let my depression and whatnot make the decision, no. what was the last game you won?   probably a replay of a "silent hill" game. what is your favorite thing about concerts?   THE HYPE.  the sheer excitement of everyone enjoying music is otherworldly. what is the last album you listened to all the way through?   ozzy's "black rain" i think. what is an unpopular opinion that you have?   abortion is murder, period. do you prefer space, nude, architecture, or nature photographs?   nature what was the last concert you went to?   one and only concert i've ever been to was alice cooper. describe your wallet:   it's red, black, and white with multiple artworks of harley quinn. describe your tattoos:   my first was a semicolon butterfly.  second was "perfectly flawed" (reference to an otep song).  third was "ohana" and half of a heart. describe your piercings:   two in each earlobe, right tragus, left cartilage, right side of nose. what do you like most about your body?   uhhhh.  i am not fond of my body.  i guess i like my slim wrists and long, slim fingers. how many fillings do you have?   hell if i know. describe your fashion:   if i had the money (and permission from my mother, as she buys my clothes, rip) i would absolutely dress gothic.  it's my aesthetic, big time.  gothic clothes just tend to be very expensive.  i also love graphic tees, and in general tend to look geekish. do you wear a watch?   nope. are you a vegetarian?   no. do you think meat is murder?   i mean, technically, yeah, but at the same time, i don't think it's wrong. your view on drinking:   do it responsibly, and we're fine. your view on pornography:   fucking gross. your view on pre-marital sex:   i really don't know anymore??  i was and i guess i still am abstinent, but i question it.  like the main reason i'm abstinent is because of religious reasons, but after all, half the old testament was forgiven by jesus' coming, yada yada yada, it may not even be "wrong" anymore.  besides that, i just really, really love(d) jason.  now i'm going to regret for the rest of my life the fact i didn't let him fully get to know me in every way possible.  if he, by some god-given miracle, comes back, i'm leaving my abstinence at my feet.  whether it's wrong or right.  because i'll sin for that man. have you ever slept in a water bed?   yeah. how do you feel about having sex during your menstrual period?   i personally wouldn't.  sounds messy. how do you feel about anal sex?   ew. does your ex have a job?    yup. share 3 nice memories you have of the person you fell hardest for.   OH MY GOD, only three?  i'll try to narrow it down to the best, this may take awhile.  1.) dancing in the headlights of his car in my front yard to "stairway to heaven"  2.) me storming into his kitchen to playfully tell him off, only to slide on the floor and land on my ass; we laughed/sobbed for like ten minutes  3.) us lying on his floor, binge-watching "supernatural" while he was moving into his new room, and it ended in him seeing me naked for the first time and still treating me like i was beautiful. tell me about the person you had your first kiss with. how do you feel about that person now?   you want a novel, fam? how old were you when you entered your first relationship?   idk the age, i just know i was in the 7th grade. are there any songs you can’t listen to because they remind you of someone/something?   yup. do you have a tumblr crush?   nah. have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment?   no, and though i don't judge people who do worry about commitment (jason was at the beginning of our relationship when i asked him what his biggest fear was), i don't understand it.  like... it's not a hard concept.  don't commit, ex. get married to a person, if you see any potential issue. has anyone of the opposite sex seen you at your worst?   yep. would you live with someone without marrying them first?   i have before, and i'd do it again. do you believe your most recent ex still thinks about you?   i honestly don't know.  it'd be nice, but i don't know if he truly does. have you ever kissed someone while they were driving?   jesus christ do i want to die? what would you do if your best friend went after your ex the day after you split?   LMAAOOOOOO DON'T. have you ever self harmed?   yup. do you have a birthmark? if so, where?   actually no, i think. were your parents married when you were born?   yeah. when you need to vent, who do you turn to?   mom, usually. do you get a lot of tourists in the area where you live? if so, are there more tourists during a particular time of the year?   i don't think i've EVER seen someone obviously a tourist here, because this part of north carolina ain't shit??? what's the strangest or most interesting compliment you've ever received?   hm, not entirely sure. when you're upset, do you tend to make rash decisions?   YUP. do you prefer to shop online or in an actual store, and why?   online, definitely.  i just tend to find more variety. do you enjoy watching vlogs? if so, are there any specific people or topics you enjoy watching in particular?   yeah, they're all right.  like when pokemon go came out, i particularly got interested in three vlogers of the subject (trainer tips, ali-a, and lachlan).  pretty sure there are other vlogers i watch occasionally, i'm not sure... what was the last new video game you were excited about?   THE LAST GUARDIAN OMG what band/singer do you listen to the most?   i mean it really does depend on my mood and if i've discovered a new artist or not. what’s your favorite quote?   i have SO MANY.  i guess i can pick one that applies most/means most to me, though: "harleen, what did he tell you?" "he said he loved me" from suicide squad.  i nearly broke down in the theater when she said that 'cuz if that ain't me like holy shit.  a very simple quote, but it carries SO MUCH WEIGHT. have you ever dated someone that was a different race than you?   for less than a day, if you even count him. how old is your best friend?   21. do you like writing papers for english classes?   i honestly didn't mind it.  give me a subject, and i can usually write, hunny. don’t edited versions of songs annoy you?   they tend to, yes. if your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do?   without saying a word to me?  i'd either a.) slap him or b.) grab his face and kiss him back.  lmao i know, totally opposite ends of the spectrum, but.  i really don't know which would come first. is your best friend dating anyone?   she's married. do you like lady gaga or does she try too hard?   as a person, she's wildly unique, which i have great respect for.  as an artist, i, surprisingly, like a couple of her songs. where did you last wear a bathing suit?   the beach. have you ever dressed unlike yourself to impress a guy?   i've said this before in another survey: is that not prom?  it's not like i'd go everyday in a big, extravagant dress.  the other day as well, i didn't dress unlike myself, but i seriously did it up because i thought i'd be "running into" jason, so. if you were offered to smoke some weed right now would you accept?   idk, probably not. have you ever done something outrageously dumb?   sure have. have you ever changed clothes in a vehicle?   yep. do you go to the mall on friday nights?   no, because i don't want to get shot. do you listen to country music?   only when i'm with colleen. who is your best guy friend?   my only two guy friends period are really sam and girt, and i don't want to pick between them. have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like?   no. do you shave your legs?   yeah.  i personally would feel too self-conscious revealing my legs if they weren't shaved. has a boy ever spent the night at your house?   plenty of times. who was the last person to sleep over?   chelsea. do you forward the chain letters in your email?   absolutely not. are you on birth control?   yes, but only for my period cramps. do your parents use social media? if so, which ones?   my mom has a facebook. do you and your last ex hate each other?   after that "yeah, no" the other day, pretty sure he hates me.  there's no way in hell i could ever hate him. have you ever made out for more than a half hour straight?   longer than that. do you collect anything?   meerkat stuff.  silent hill merchandise.  band stuff.  jaybird feathers. do you have any nieces or nephews? describe them.   aubree is very lively, but can be shy.  she loves minnie mouse and dory.  ryder is just a baby, so doesn't have much of a personality, really.  at least that i can detect. when was the last time you were sick?   now, actually.  my throat is killing me. can you handle a lot of drama?   NO NO NO NO NO. when you were a kid, was there a boy/girl that you said you were going to marry?   nope.  i didn't even want to marry as a kid. have you ever had a significant other with a mental disorder?   not to my knowledge.  i mean jason had low self-esteem, but he was not mentally ill. are flea markets trashy?   in general, no.  any store though can be trashy.  but generally, no, they're great.  you can find great deals. when you get nervous, does it show physically (i.e shaky hands)?   yes.  i sweat, i quiver, i play with my hands... tell me one unique quality about your own handwriting.   it's a mix of cursive and print. when was the last time you were pissed beyond belief and why?   when colleen implied i wasn't trying hard enough in regards to my depression, anxiety, etc.  i nearly walked out her door. what qualities of yours do you think could potentially harm a relationship?   well i mean apparently being mentally ill is a fucking issue.  like i can help it. what sort of conditions do you require in order for you to fall asleep?   have the fan on (usually), have the television on but on silent. do you have a favorite punk band?   green day for sure. as far as relationships go, what are your biggest deal-breakers?   having kids already, doing drugs, drinking excessively... i've got a number. what’s your favorite mythical being?   dragons if you’re a girl, what’s your bra size?   d-something will you go to your senior prom?   i already did. do you make fun of people who play magic: the gathering or yu-gi-oh! cards?   i've never understood this shit, like, why ridicule someone for enjoying cards?  are we as humans truly that petty?  besides that, magic is like jason's biggest passion, so i'd be making fun of him if i had an issue with it.  he got me to play it occasionally, too, and it's kinda fun.  just damn, this question's got me irritated.  who the fuck has a problem with cards. got a lot of deep, depressing poetry and artwork stashed?   don't find my dA pls ever attempted suicide or self-mutilated yourself?   yeah. what’s the last movie you rented?   "blaire witch" has anyone ever hacked your accounts before?    i allowed my former best friend megan to hack my old youtube once and she allowed me to hack hers so we could put one of those lovey-dubby letters on each other's pages, ha.  have i ever been seriously hacked, no. what was the last thing you ordered online?   a shirt and flip-flops from hottopic where did your last kiss take place?   at my house, odds are, from jason dropping me off. do you reveal a lot about yourself online? are you careful about not revealing too much? would you say you reveal more about yourself than others seem to do?   i do, and i mean i'm cautious with some things, like i won't share my last name, address, stuff like that.  i'd say i reveal just about as much as the other survey takers i read. if you're interested in fashion, what inspires your style most? do you look to celebrities or other famous people for inspiration?   i'm not interested in fashion at all.  i don't care what's "in" and whatnot, i just wear either what is comfortable or i find aesthetically pleasing. is there anything you feel pressured to do by a certain age (i.e. get married)?   honestly?  yeah.  society and family history makes me think i should either already be married or get so within the next like five years and have kids before 30. have you ever lived in a mobile home?   no. friend asks you to hide drugs, booze etc for them, do you do it?   no, honestly. animal you like to watch but sort of creeps you out?   i like watching large spiders.  emphasis on "watching." have you ever been to an open casket wake or funeral?   yup. scariest driver you’ve ridden with?   my dad that one day he was really pissed off, picking nicole and i up from school.  i legitimately thought i was going to die.  he was running red lights, passing illegally... have you/do you plan to go to college?   i am in college, but i am sincerely contemplating dropping out.  things aren't going well. have you ever dated someone named kyle?   no, but i had a crush on a kyle in high school. do you think greasy hair is a turn off?   it's definitely not a turn on.  in interest of my significant other's health, i'd want you to take a shower if your hair was greasy. your computer crashes, deletes EVERYTHING, can you survive?   lmao pls don't tell me about the last time you had sex?   i've never had sex, just done sexual things.  it's been over a year since i've "done anything" though, so i couldn't tell you about the last time. what is your biggest mistake in life?   letting my depression literally consume me to the point it made the love of my fucking life fall out of love with me. what was the last thing you drank?   some strawberry fruit juice.