#when i was like 12 i had to spend months convincing myself that im not dreaming and im not unknowingly doing what im doing elsewhere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jade-of-mourning · 3 years ago

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theformat wrote, "im floating with the birds im talking to the weeds look what youve done to me"

in which i spontaneously take several hours to translate nate’s awfully punctuated commentary on dog problems into Comprehensive English Words. partially so i can write my stupid essay on it for fun. but yes here you go, 4.2k words from a 2006 livejournal archive that i managed to snatch out of two saves. here’s a link if you want to read it from the source, but i’ll have you know it’s a nightmare. early 2000′s nate ruess learn how to type properly challenge.

theformat wrote,

[@ 2006-5-18 18:44:00]

"im floating with the birds im talking to the weeds look what youve done to me"

Hi,

Sitting on my couch, watching ESPN. Damn, it’s good to be home. Things have been pretty crazy the last 6 months. As a lot of you know, we were dropped by our label — we went and recorded a new record, labels became interested, [and] we decided to release it ourselves. We went on tour, and now I’m [...] home for the next week: my first week off in six months. What do I do?

Well, my roommate and I got memberships to the YMCA down the street from our house. It’s an amazing place. Downtown Phoenix is pretty much an amazing place. It’s not like the rest of the state — speaking of which, I’m declaring war on Scottsdale, it’s the opposite of Downtown Phoenix.

Anyways, so I wake up at 9am every morning. I don’t know what it is, really — I’ve been a "pro" musician for about 3 years now, [and] we are supposed to wake up at 11 or 12. I know some dudes that wake up at 1, but no; since I’ve been home the last few days, I’ve been going to bed at 1 and waking up at 9. My roommate has a job, [so] I think it has to do with that.

See, there are 3 showers total in our house. I have the big bedroom, so I have the big shower, [and] since I’ve been off on tour and recording, he has gotten used to the nice shower in my room (Which is fine — anyone that’s gotten close to me knows I’m not too fond of showers, so it’s not like I use it that much). So every morning around 8:45, I wake up to my door opening and my roommate going through my room to use the shower.

You know what it’s like when you’re half asleep but you want to act like you’re awake so as not to freak someone out with all the crazy babble, but you just end up saying all the same crazy babble? I do that every morning. I turn and look at him and try to act like I wasn’t just dreaming about tootsie rolls and parrots that shatter like glass. "Hey [Roommate's Name], that was some game last night" [is what usually] comes out of my mouth — something to that extent — and I think he feels sorry for me, but continues to walk right into my bathroom, and use the shower.

At this point, I’m awake. I usually have to pee, and I have to then use his restroom. It’s a terrible swap, and it always ends with me wide awake on my front porch (har har) smoking a cigarette and wondering how the hell I’m gonna fall back asleep when the air conditioning is broken. Ah, what a wonderful life at home, [but] that’s the weird thing — I love it. Now we wake up and we go to the [YMCA]. We run, we play basketball, we jump in the pool, we play pool basketball, we get yelled at for dunking the ball. We don’t use soap before we go into the sauna, and the night usually ends with a poker tournament. This is the life I love to live when I’m away from the road. It too is the opposite of Scottsdale. It’s who I am, [and] it’s pretty much who I’ve become.

See, for the last 23 years, it’s been about the highs and the lows for me. I’ve got an addictive personality, [so] I stay away from a lot of things because of this; however, when I find things, I get generally excited. I go crazy. It’s all I think about and all I do for the next howeverlong. For the first 23 years, it was either talking non-stop or locking myself in my room. It’s either great or terrible; not good or bad. Dog Problems changed that.

Initially, Dog Problems was supposed to be that — the original concept of Dog Problems was to be 2 sides of music, the first half taking over where Interventions [+ Lullabies] had left off: "We'll be together in the morning…"

We weren’t, in fact. We were over before Interventions was even released. We were over two weeks after it was recorded, [and] I spent the next 2 years feeling terrible. We got back together… we broke up… we got dogs… we broke up… we got back together and got dogs…

I was still miserable, but I wanted Dog Problems to get me through everything. I wanted it to help me, not anyone else — just me. The first side was supposed to be me down in the dumps [and] everything that went down: how the two of us were dealing with it differently, [and] the second half was supposed to be a realization.

The first inkling of realization was a day [when] we were on tour. We were all laughing about something I’m sure Marko or Adam said. Here I was supposed to be depressed, but the fact that I can spend all of my days in different states with my best friends, all of us doing what we love — that was major! Then my mom called… I’ve got my parents! My friends! What else could I possibly need?

At that point, I felt as if a relationship in a Michael Bolton sort of way didn’t mean anything. It was the people you surrounded yourself with — those were the people that made the difference, and that was going to be side two. I was convinced that when I just closed my eyes and thought about the wonderful people around me, I was going to be great. Not good, [but] great.

I didn’t get that far, no. I got back into the relationship.

I was sure it was going to work. At that point, life would be perfect, and we all want perfection right? [But] things went right back to far from perfect. Things went to terrible. I couldn’t stop feeling sorry for myself, but I had a concept. At that point, I figured that even by singing and recording these positive songs I was going to feel better, so Sam showed me what was then just a short acoustic guitar version of Snails.

This was it. This was my first chance to prove to myself that life can be beautiful. The thing is, I had never been more miserable. I remember writing the lyrics to Snails: my roommate was at work, I was on the bed, on my night stand was a giant bottle of booze, and somewhere off in California she wasn’t calling me back on a Friday night. So I went to work, listened [to it] over and over. I wanted to get it right; I wanted to be positive. I passed out, then I woke up the next morning [with a] big headache (P.S. drinking is not really that cool; it’s cool when you condemn it for the first 22 years of your life, then it becomes not cool, then it becomes ok when you moderate yourself) and I started writing everything positive I could think of. [...] Snails was, in Sam’s mind, supposed to be a 2 minute kid’s song, [but] I wrote so much that there was no going back. I thought that was it — Snails solved all of my problems.

It didn’t get that far either. Nothing could shake the depression, [and] I really started to worry about myself. Here I want to feel great, but I only feel terrible, [and] a few months later it got really really bad. I had to go to my parents house that night, I didn’t want to be at my house. I wanted to feel like a kid.

It’s funny how we always want to be adults when we're younger. We want to drive cars, we want to have girlfriends. I still didn’t consider myself an adult — all I wanted was to come home, be tucked in, know that everything was going to be alright. I woke up the next day [and found out] she met someone new. I’ve got to figure myself out…

In the meantime, we've got 4 songs we are recording over at our friend Aaron’s house (he is an amazing producer and [...] musician, and his house and his roommates have gotten me through a lot of tough times. They’re some of the only people I know who would rather spend their Saturdays getting dinner and watching a movie instead of going to a party. I like that). All of this turmoil in my relationship was going on at the time, and I was trying to write side two [but] I couldn’t. There was more fuel to side one. These songs have to be done, so I wrote about what I knew, and at that point I knew how to feel terrible.

So much for side two. Dog Problems is going to be one giant mess of depression and "look what you’ve done to me".

Atlantic got those four songs, as well as a few others. They were not psyched, to say the least, but some people at the label actually cared about it enough to say "go record". So we were able to pick our producer, we met with a few people, talked to a few more. Things were looking up. Dog Problems was going to happen.

I remember meeting Steve McDonald at his house — Sam and I were excited to be [there] because we knew his wife Anna would probably be there. Anna was the lead singer/songwriter for a band we used to obsess about called "That Dog", her brother was one of the ten drummers in the world that I actually liked, so Steve couldn't be so bad. And he wanted to produce our record, so he had to be pretty cool!

He was just that, and more. Sam and I were eating every word that came out of his mouth. He had stories; he was young, hip, energetic, and yet very all knowing. We saw someone that was going to let us do whatever we wanted to do, and in the meantime he was going to make us laugh and make sure we didn't lose our minds. From that point on, I knew there was someone I could always trust. I made a friend pretty quick.

Things were moving forward. Steve McDonald was to be the producer. I hated Los Angeles so there was no way in hell I was going to record there, [so] we decided Palm Springs would be perfect. Weird, but perfect. I had a phone conversation with Steve that night and we were finalizing everything. I was going to call Atlantic in the morning and let them know just how everything was going to work, [but] I didn't get that far.

I was sleeping in a blowup bed at the house when my phone rang. I didn’t wake up and answer like it was my roommate and he was coming into my room to use my shower, [because] this call felt different. Right away, I was awake.

It was our manager: "You’ve been dropped."

When I heard that, the first thought going through my mind wasn’t "Oh man...how are we going to be famous now and make boat loads of money?" It was more like "fuck...but Dog Problems. We were supposed to go make Dog Problems."

The thing is, Atlantic wasn’t into Dog Problems. They were into whatever it was they thought we were. Never had The First Single made more sense — what was supposed to be a song about getting the band started and doing something with it had actually turned into a song about how stuck we were in the labels eyes because of the song. I was past that; we're proud of something we wrote when we were 19 and 20, but when I think of music, I think of progression.

I think of all of the wonderful records I had been introduced to when I had nothing to do riding in a van. I think of all of the new influences, all the instruments, all of the "How did they do that?" And I think of how much it gets me through everything.

Music has been the consecutive[ly] great[est] thing in my life. It’s been that one thing, and with Dog Problems, it wasn’t about "I want everyone to sing along because I can write a catchy song." It was about feeling. It was paying tribute to all of the bands that we obsessively listened to. It was for Harry Nilsson and Van Dyke Parks, it was for Jellyfish and XTC. It was our way of saying thanks for making our lives better, whether it be lyrically or musically. It was never about being something, being told something, and sticking to something. It was an adventure, for the artist and for the listener.

[And] they didn't get that. They wanted the old record, the old songs, just with different words and a few different chords here and there. They didn’t care about Snails or Dog problems [or] what it meant to write those songs. They knew it wasn't going to be huge; the guitars were not big enough (if big guitars are your thing that’s fine, it’s just not really our thing right now); it wasn’t going to be competitive, and so they dropped us. And rightfully so: we weren’t going to change, and obviously the major label business is never going to change, [so] now it comes down to who goes down first. And we weren’t ready to go down.

Sam and I had conversations about it, whether the business end of things have been fucking with us so much that we'll never be sane enough to just enjoy it. We thought about getting out — it wasn’t [be]cause we hated each other, or the songs; it was because we hated the business.

Steve called to let us know that he was still onboard, label or not, [and] we let him know we were still on board. We were going to make this record, [and] I was going to feel great! But the record was going to cost something. How could we afford it?

We were lucky that we had a management company like Nettwerk. Not only are they the most forward-thinking music business people around, [but] they’re also (for the most part) Canadian. Oh, and they care a shit load about the music we make. They could have waited for the ship to sink, but they told us they would pay for the record if need be. Fortunately, we were able to get money for getting dropped — Atlantic actually paid us to leave, so we could afford the recording ourselves. The only stipulation was that it had to be done quicker, and when you want something quick, you have to go to the "right here, right now" capitol of the world: Los Angeles. I was a little irked at the thought at first, then Steve said it was his personal goal to make LA a wonderful city for me. Like I said, I would jump off a cliff if Steve said it was the best way to get coffee, but I wasn’t jumping off of cliffs. I was too excited to make Dog Problems, [so] LA it was.

Sam and I moved to the "Silver Palace" in Silverlake California in the middle of December. We found an amazing studio in Burbank, California and an amazing engineer in Ken Sluiter, and our goal was to just do everything free from a record label and someone constantly messing up the recording process by saying things like "that’s not high octave enough". The only pressure we had at all was from our manager saying "You have a tour you accepted in March, [so] get it done by then.” Other than that, it was me, Sam, Steve, and Ken working 13 hours a day for 6 days a week.

It became our lives we were putting so much of ourselves into. Everyone that worked and played on the record was the same way when they were there contributing. I would leave the studio at 2 in the morning and wake up at 10 to be at the studio by 11. There was no free time — the four of us were so invested in this. We all bought into the concept.

In the meantime, things outside of the studio were getting interesting. We had a lot of labels calling and constantly asking about it. During one week of recording, I remember at least 3 different label people coming down to the studio. Our minds weren’t made up as to what we were doing with the record once it was recorded — all we wanted to do was finish it — but we kept our options open and let people sit in the big chair and listen to what we had been working on. The response was overwhelmingly positive, but we didn’t really think about it too much beyond the compliments we were receiving. Sam and I got used to LA — I was 10 minutes away from where I had been the previous summer when I was back "on" in my “on and off" relationship. I was ten minutes from her, she was calling every day, I was singing about it… but how was it not getting to me? Why did I not care?

My phone was off. I woke up in Silverlake one morning and started wondering why for the last month I had a smile on my face. Sure, I was down at times, but the thing that had been bringing me down for 3 years was now the last thing on my mind. Apparently, it had been that way for awhile. Something that took 3 years to get over… I was finally just okay with it. No big realization — just the fact that things happen. People make mistakes. And I came out of it alright. I was good; not great… I was good, and that felt good.

I wasn’t looking for great anymore. I was okay. The last song on Dog Problems is all about that. Here, this record was supposed to be the downs, and the ups, and it ended with the middle: the realization that I don’t need to be talking; I don’t need to be locked in my room — I need to enjoy what’s going on around me. And if things go wrong, they go wrong. There’s always tomorrow.

Dog Problems means so much to me in so many different ways. I’ve never been more proud of anything in my life. I cried so many times during the making of the record. All the money I had spent on therapy, and all I had to do was go make a record, realize that I’m alright, and realize that I made something that I’ll forever be proud of.

Shit… the record was supposed to be about how California can change you for the worse, [but] it played a huge part in doing the opposite!

So as we were putting the finishing touches on the record (all our friends came in and recorded! A ton of people we admired came and worked on the record! All of their responses were so positive that it's hard not to get an ego about it. These are the people I worship. They’re the ones I wanted to pay tribute to, and they think we've made something unique and special. It’s like Michael Jordan telling you that you have a nice jump shot (no more sports references… I swear I’m done)) and we started to think about what we were going to do with it. How we were going to release it. Labels were getting pretty into it, and we knew we would have to make a decision soon.

After much debate and discussion, we decided that the record was something we had made completely on our own, so why not release it completely on our own? Nettwerk was going to take care of the distribution so it would have a major label distro. It would be inside all of the Best Buys; what more did we want? We didn’t want a big fat check — we did that last time. It made us miserable, and nothing came out of it. Barely anyone at the labels helped us, we weren’t making music videos, our songs weren’t on the radio, so why would we take their criticism? After all, everything that we’ve done — any success we’ve had is from being real people who make music. From showing up to play, from 3 years on the road.

On Interventions [+ Lullabies], there might have been an Elektra logo on the back of the record, but it ended right there. We were the ones SHOWING people who we were. I wouldn’t have it any other way — no one knows us better than ourselves, so why not release it ourselves? To me, it’s not only a testament to the hard work we put into the band (Mike, Don, Marko, Toco, everyone else involved in putting these songs to life — you guys are the best thing we have. It’s pretty special when your best friends are some of the most talented musicians), but I really feel like the people who come to our shows are such good people that they don’t give a fuck what label it’s on.

They are there because we are doing something positive, and because we care about them as much as they care about us. So for the time being we've said "fuck the middleman": we're the only people we can blame at this point. I’m so tired of even talking about major labels and the split and everything like this. The music is the only thing I care about. Dog Problems is the only thing I care about, so why let someone else ruin it?

The Vanity Label was born.

The record got finished. We had no time to rehearse, and we had to go right back out to tour. Our first show before the Motion City Soundtrack tour was in Nashville — I remember the last time we were in Nashville, there were about ten kids. Reuben’s accomplice kept asking them why they hate whales, so we figured why not go there and get some of the rust out of the way. After all, we haven't toured in a year so there should be like 3 kids there; we can mess up if need be.

Unfortunately, we were not allowed to mess up. On a Sunday night in Nashville, with Ted Leo playing across the street (I <3 Ted), our first headlining show outside of Arizona in almost a year was over sold out. What the fuck happened?

We thought we were going to have to play for another 3 years just to get back to where we were when we left, and yet it’s sold out on a Sunday night? It didn’t end there either — the whole tour went like that… night after night ("nite after nite?"). I couldn't believe it. As if having Dog Problems wasn’t enough, now we have people showing their support in the most positive way: coming to the shows, being there from the only thing they knew before. Those two months were such good months. It was the last thing I expected. Thanks so much to all the bands that played with us, and thanks so much for everyone that came to the shows and sang along. We'll be back in July.

In the meantime, things were going great on the Vanity Label front. Business actually felt natural. We are shooting a video with the directors we had always dreamed of doing a video with (it won’t be serious...no pouty face). There were magazines like AP and online magazines like AP taking notice, supporting the whole idea and concept. We actually took press photos. I’ve never been through any of this before, it’s exciting. I don’t think it’s going to change who we are, not one bit, but it’s still exciting to see people who can help out actually help out.

So where does that leave me now? Sitting on my bed. I’ve rambled for hours, the air still doesn't work, and I’ve been told that Dog Problems (something that isn't supposed to come out till July) has been leaked. Not the best news when you just got out of the pool, but it happens. I freaked out at first — I thought I was going to lock myself in my room. After all, this is something that we spent over two years making. It’s something that you have to take the time… listen to in headphones… play loud… listen to in order of the tracks… the artwork… Sam did the best artwork he has ever done. The packaging is something we paid extra for because Sam’s concept was so brilliant, and now… it’s leaked on the internet? I was locking my door, then our manager called.

"Hello?"

"We're releasing it on the website today."

"Wow."

So, here goes. You’ve read enough. I shouldn’t have to go on about it anymore, but I will say, if you wanna wait for the full hard copy release then do so. It’s July 11 — we are gonna be touring right after that — but if you want to get it now,.please do it by purchasing it right here. We released it, it’s our money, it’s our little baby — you should take the time to listen to it all the way through, free of distraction. You should turn the songs into your own. It’s an adventure, and it’s something that we put everything we have into; and if anyone deserves it first, it’s you guys who have been here with us all along.

Without further ado...

"Dog Problems"

- Nate

#dog problems #the format #nate ruess #basically: dog problems; a lyrical & musical & emotional masterpiece #i honestly feel like i don't even need to write that essay anymore wtf #4.2k words baby that took me ages to edit bc he has the WORST typing habits #every half statement is interspersed with ellipses and there are no apostrophes and everything was no caps lmaooo #moving on #this is absolutely my favorite album ever and holy shit #finally reading this post in its entirety gave me so much more insight it's wild #i'm like so fucking emotional help jhfhbjgfhsdkg #i'm just glad he's doing alright now and having a good time even if music isn't a big part of his life anymore #and i also feel like i understand the breaking up of fun. a lot more as well #hell i just really understand nate ruess in general a lot more and it's really nice #bc he's been my favorite artist for a while and i know a lot of people shit on him for his personality but like. fuck off people are people #and u know. if work permits is my favorite song so hearing shit about it makes me happy #truly makes me appreciate the album more than i already did #and makes me get why it's the only part of his discography he still actually likes #even though OBJECTIVELY SPEAKING they are all Excellent but okay then nate

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rose-lord-of-simps · 4 years ago

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AO3 fics

This is a list of AO3 fics I find and need a place to save so I can read them later! I’d save them in a file on my phone but my phone hates me and quite frankly, I don’t blame it.

Note: I also take fic finding requests! I can’t help you find specific fics but if there is a ship here you aren’t interested in or don’t ship but you want a fic for, let me know what genre you want and the ship or x reader and I’ll find it for you! Genres include fluff, romantic, spicy, angst!

Some of the descriptions are the actual descriptions from the fics, however some are just notes I made about them myself. NONE OF THESE ARE MINE AND I AM NOT TAKING CREDIT FOR THEM!

This is mostly just for me but I figured I’d post it so I can create a link for it on my page instead of going through my drafts to look for it.

Guide: ☘️ not completed 🍀 completed ❌ not read ✔️ read 🌶 spicy 🌹 romance 🌵angst 🌼 fluff

If you think an emoji on a fic should be changed, just let me know! I DID NOT PUT ANY TRIGGER WARNING IN THE DESCRIPTIONS! If I think there is something trigger or know there is I will tell you to read the tags and notes but if you read one of these with a mislabeled emojis or you think a 🌵 should be added, please let me know.

On the last day of every month I go through and update the info of if it is completed and how many chapters there are. Because of this some of the info may be wrong as you read this post.

Solangelo

A World Alone

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

10 chapters and part of a Series

🌼🌹 Nico was ready to propose - now he just needed to figure out how. He convinces Will to celebrate Hanukkah for the first time in years. The problem is, Nico doesn't know anything about Hanukkah.

The Ballad of Landon Creek

Completed ☘️ Read not all the way

22/32 updated 2021-03-05 left off on 16

🌵🌹🌼Doctor Will Solace had lived in the secluded Oregon town of Ladon Creek for a year when a mysterious stranger arrived and turned his world upside down.

PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS AND NOTES!

Kiribaku

A series of coincidental meetings

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

3 chapters - left off on 3

🌼 Exactly what the title says

Coat/Jacket

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter but part of a series!

🌼 Eijirou wakes up cold, alone, and worried. What hidden truths will he find when he seeks out his boyfriend?

Axis

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter but part of a series!

🌵 Ochako recieves a letter from Bakugo she never wanted.

Not Kiribaku centered but includes Kiribaku

And your name for the order is

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌼 Coffee shop AU where Kirishima is the only one who enjoys taking Bakugo’s order

Tell me the truth (even if it hurts)

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

3 chapters - left off on 3

🌵 little not much 🌹/🌼 Kirishima gets hit with a truth quirk but he isn’t the one telling the truth

Tell me Whatever

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter

🌼 mostly, Bakugo gets hit with a quirk and it becomes impossible to be lied to, and Kirishima is so very open

Bien Cuit

Completed ☘️ Read ❌

7/10 updated on 2021-02-12 left off on 1?

🌼🌹 “It’s the best cafe in town! You gotta try it!!” Kirishima exclaimed. “What’s the worse that can happen?” Kirishima asked. Bakugou should have fucking known better than to trust that Shitty Hair for a simple coffee recommendation.

Or : Bakugou Katsuki accidentally ends up in a cafe meet-cute with Deku’s former number one ride-or-die, Uraraka Ochako, and they catch feelings.

Fireflies

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌵🌹 romance and angst, soulmate AU!

Dis-ease

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

2 Chapters and part of a series left off on chapter 1

🌼Kirishima is sick and Bakugo takes care of him

I Missed You

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 Chapter

🌼 After a long mission, Bakugou and Kirishima talk on their couch, some sweet things are said, and their friends walk in on them making out.

5 Times Bakugou Katsuki was soft for Kirishima Eijirou and the 1 Time Everyone Found Out

Completed ☘️ Read not done yet

2/6 Chapters updated on 2021-01-19 left off on 2

🌼 Sunflowers, daisies, and a discussion about bubbles.

Light it up like dynamight

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter

🌼 Kirishima had a mission: to discover Bakugou’s favourite band. After all, he had a Christmas gift to buy.

Or, alternatively, in which best bros Kirishima and Bakugou go to a concert and they end the day being more than bros.

Valentine- a Kiribaku fluffshot

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 Chapter

🌹🌼 Happy valentine's day! Well, it's not not so happy for Katsuki, who's finally decided to confess to Eijirou. Much due to Mina's pushiness, he decided to confess through cliched Valentine's chocolates. Although he's nervous and doubtful, a good deal of hope sits buried in Katsuki's chest. But what will happen when the Bakusquad hangs out on Valentine's Day and someone notices the chocolates?

We don’t have to be ordinary

Completed 🍀 Read unfinished

8/8 chapters left off on 5

🌵🌹🌼 A Footloose AU that nobody asked for, but I'm certainly providing.

Sounds a little strange for someone who’s never watched footloose- BUT IT’S SO GOOD I PROMISE!

Gotta KiriBaku Them All

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

Eijiro Kirishima is a eighteen year old rock trainer in a world full of Pokemon. His childhood best friend Denki Kaminari travels with him to different regions. One fateful day they decide to enlist in a charity tournament at Lumiose City in Kalos. Who will they meet and what challenges will they face? Follow the boys as they make new friends and battle their way through the competition!

Im unsure how to emoji label this one so please read the tags and notes!

Bakugou and his Journal

Completed ☘️ Read not finished

1/2 chapters updated 2021-02-07

🌼🌵? (Unsure how to emoji label this) Bakugou’s journal.

Shinkami

Clashing Colors

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

3 chapters

🌼One month into classes at UA and shinso is being transferred into class 1-A, a small problem being that kaminari has started to have feelings for him and just to his luck, kaminari has been chosen to help shinso move into his new dorm.

(Obviously) They’re Married

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

6 chapters

🌹🌼mostly, Where Kaminari meets Shinso’s dads. But he doesn’t know who they are. Erasermic family!

5 + 1 Things : Kamishin

Completed 🍀 Read ?

1 Chapter

🌼🌵 5 times Kaminari was too loud for Shinso, 1 time he was too quite. Warning: language and brief mention of homophobia

Let me Scream

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌵🌼 Mina made Hitoshi drop an extremely personal note before reading it out loud with Denki present. Denki got mad at Hitoshi for the first time. A while later, he angrily opens up and tells Hitoshi why.

Or Hitoshi and Denki have their first argument as a couple.

You Make It Feel Like Christmas

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

🌼Kaminari and Shinsou spend their first Christmas together. Shinsou's never really celebrated Christmas and Kaminari is determined to give him a real Christmas

Catch Me

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

5 Chapters

🌼(but read the tags!) Shinsou and Kaminari meet by chance their first year of high school and spend one whirlwind day together that changes the trajectory of their entire lives. Three years later, after maintaining a long distance friendship, they are roommates, nearly through their first year at the University of Osaka. They are forever on the edge of something beyond friendship, but never quite able to take the leap of faith for fear of tainting their memories of that one, perfect day. That is, until Kaminari gets blackout drunk in a night of frustration and Shinsou won't let it go.

Pizza n Fries

Completed ☘️ Read not finished

3/? Chapters updated 2021-03-10 left off on 2

🌼 So here Kaminari sits, the most popular boy in school, alone, idly poking at his school lunch,, pizza. How the school managed to screw up pizza was beyond him, but at the same time he was once given a single slice of soggy bread for lunch. Just as he was about to get up to throw his plate in the trash, it's entire existence disgusted him, a deep voice sounded in, "school lunches am I right?"

We’ll Hold You When the Sky Falls Down

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 Chapter

🌹🌼This is a Kaminari x Jirou x Shinsou fic! Soulmate AU where you can write on your arm and it appears on your partner’s arm!

Denki Who is Not His Boyfriend

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌹🌶(a little bit) PLEASE READ THE RAGS OF THIS ONE AND THE NOTES

Kaminari Denki’s Very Strange Day

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1 chapter

🌼 All hail Denki Kaminari, newly initiated drinker of respect women juice, matchmaker extraordinaire. Alternately, Shinsou Hitoshi simultaneously has the worst and best day of his life.

Tododeku

How did I not Know?

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1 chapter

🌵 Aizawa is concerned when Todoroki starts to fall behind in class but dismissed it as the boy needing a break and that he would be fine when he came back to the dorms after a weekend of being at home. He never would've thought how wrong he was and how one weekend would reveal a lifetime of secrets about the Todoroki household. Though he just wished that the two teens would have been spared from the crossfire that is Endeavor.

Not Tododeku centric but they’re together

The Prince and the Painter

Completed ☘️ Read ❌

1/? Chapters updated 2021-01-30

🌵🌹🌼 Prince Shoto Todoroki is next in line for the Alterian throne. His father rules the Kingdom with an iron fist, giving Shoto no choice but to obey his every order. He is overworked, depressed, and utterly miserable. That is until he meets Izuku Midoriya, an avant-garde painter who starts to bring the color back into his dull life. But what happens when they start to fall in love with each other? Shoto is a Prince, and Izuku is just a painter, surely this cannot end well!

(Basically a royal AU! Lots of angst, family drama, and of course fluffy love. Enjoy!)

Of Flowers and Tattoos

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter and part of a series!

Shouto owns a tattoo parlor. Izuku owns a flower shop. Love (unsurprisingly) happens.

Property Of Prince Shotou Todoroki

Completed 🍀 Read not finished

9 chapters left off on 4

🌵🌹🌶little bit of Bakugou x Midoriya, prince Todoroki x peasant Deku AU! PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND NOTES!

Lady in Red

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1 chapter

🌼 Izuku’s mother refuses to tell him who her Valentine’s date is. Tododeku isn’t the main ship but it’s still included so it’s going here.

Something That I Want

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1 chapter

🌹🌼🌵(lightly) TANGLED AU ITS SO GOOD OH MY GOSH-

The Cupid Quirk

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

23/23 chapters updated 2021-04-08

🌹🌼 During an attack at school, Midoriya gets hit by a quirk that leaves him infatuated with the first person he sees, which just so happens to be Todoroki Shouto. Due to an unfortunate side effect of the quirk, Midoriya breaks out into a horrible fever whenever they’re separated for too long, so Todoroki accepts the responsibility of caring for him until the quirk wears off. Problem is, Todoroki sort of, kind of, maybe likes Midoriya as more than just a friend, which makes the whole situation just a little awkward for him.

THIS IS AN AMAZING FIC AND I LOVE IT. You’re not gonna regret this read.

Erasermic

So They Follow in Our Footsteps

Completed ☘️ Read ❌

1/2 chapters 2021-01-22 part of a series!

🌵🌼 Eventually, Aizawa thinks, he’s going to figure Shinsou out. He’s gonna figure out what it means to tote around a kid through the zombie apocalypse like a Chanel bag, and what it means to get truly, murderously pissed when they’re threatened.

Zombie apocalypse AU! So- Apocolypse AU’s aren’t my thing so I don’t know why I have this one saved and I’m probably not going to read it, however I found a link for it on tumblr in the Erasermic tag so that’s where it’s going! ALSO READ THE NOTES OF THE CHAPTER!

Miritama

Glowing

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1 chapter and part of a series

🌼 Kirishima asks Tamaki about Mirio.

Of Octopus Balls and Contract Flaws

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 Chapter

🌼 Tamaki really had to be careful about what he said out loud sometimes, or else a simple frustrated phrase such as "I would sell my soul for some decent takoyaki" could easily be taking out of context.

Purple Haze

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter and part of a series!

🌹🌼Tamaki wants to know Mirio’s colour. “What’s your color? I wanna know, I wanna know.”

Burst of Sunlight

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

🌹🌼🌵(possibly) In the aftermath of the Shie Hassaikai raid, Tamaki looks after Mirio. One-shot. Soft Miritama

Summertime:Miritama

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1 Chapter

🌼 Amajiki Tamaki had always preferred the winter, until Mirio came along. Tamaki tells the story of him and Mirio by following their memories through the course of many summers.

Grossly Incandescent

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1 chapter

Mirio thinks, perhaps, his journey to find his own sun has found just the right path. Tamaki just do what he's supposed to and ring the bell. Their paths may just merge into one. OR Mirio knows incandescence when he sees it, but it's a bit harder to prove that to Tamaki if he's just going to hide under his hood all day!

Star Spots

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

🌹🌼 mirio looks so sad, beneath the surface, and tamaki wants to say something, but doesn't know what's best for his best friend. what do you do, what do you say, when your best friend lost something so important to them? or, a series of scenes where tamaki and mirio spend their time in each others company, make confessions, and make it through to the other side.

Moments of Peace

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 chapter and part of a series

🌹🌼Mirio wakes up way too early, and he takes a moment to appreciate the love of his life

The “Almost” Perfect Nest

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌹🌼Omega Tamaki likes to take comfort in the nests he creates to have Mirio's alpha scent around. He finds blankets and clothes that smell likes Mirio and throws them all into one big pile. So what happens the day he can't find a specific hoodie that belongs to Mirio? He loses it.

Love Confessions are Hard for Idiots

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌹🌼Mirio wants to confess.

Todoroki x Kaminari

Denki’s Life Essentials:Memes, food, and Shouto

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

1 Chapter

Denki tries to explain what memes are to Shouto and accidentally falls in love.

Hawks x Reader

Amans Avaritia

Completed ☘️ Read not all the way

3/? Chapters updated on 2021-01-05 left off on chapter 3

🌵🌹When the Prince of the feathered-folk Kingdom, Hawks, threatens to declare war on your kingdom, you’re forced to make the worst and best decision of your life.

Let’s Chase the Sun

Completed ☘️ Read ❌

19/? Updated on 2021-02-22

(I unsure what emojis to use) Your whole life you had been sheltered away from the real world, but you weren’t exactly alone in that aspect. You just had less freedom than him. Now, however, you would take him as a chance to live life the way you wanted to. Who cares about the consequences after all? Life isn’t easy, though, and that’s something you’ll have to learn, even with a capable hero at your side. Because to be honest, being with him is the biggest problem of all.

Im unsure what emojis to use so PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS and the NOTES in the first chapter!

Writers

Born Dead

MHA ship writer, mostly Kiribaku I believe

Multi-Ship

Totally Definetly Legit Leaked BNHA Valentine’s Day Light Novel Spoilers

Completed 🍀 Read ✔️

1 chapter

🌼 I honestly have no idea how to describe this, some Momo x Todoroki, and Kiribaku

If you don’t take this friendship, I will shove it up your ass

Completed ☘️ Read not finished

3/? Chapters updated 2021-01-31 left off on 2

🌼crack fic, no one ship specific, super funny!

The Todoroki In-Laws

Completed 🍀 Read ❌

13/13 COMPLETED and part of a series!

🌼crack fic Over 10 years after the fight against the Paranormal Liberation Front, Rumi, aka the part-time hero Miruko and the proud wife of one Todoroki Fuyumi, decides it would be an awesome idea to create a groupchat with the significant others of the other Todoroki siblings. Maybe things would be easier if its members weren’t two Pro Heroes, a former one and a rehabilitated villain, but… Honestly, where’s the fun in that?

Part 2 coming soon... there’s more...

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abowlofpetuniasandawhale · 3 years ago

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i feel weird posting about this because it’s such a sore subject for so many (including me) but i kind of wanted to write about this and reflect on it for my own personal growth so

i started eating in a calorie deficit on 12/4 after ~3 months of eating at maintenance and high volume strength training. Technically my eight weeks are up on 12/29 but I already feel like im basically where i need to be (and that alone, being satisfied with myself instead of wanting to double down and go smaller is such a success all by itself)

im so proud of myself, not for losing weight, but for managing to do it without a relapse even when my mental health has been in the toilet. obviously it wasn’t perfect and there were days where i definitely didn’t eat enough, but considering it was almost always out of laziness or genuine lack of appetite (hello tolerance break) instead of being the restriction game where i get obsessed with making the calorie count as small as possible, im calling it a success.

i definitely wish i had eaten more and especially eaten more protein. considering i lost 13lbs (which is too much for that amount of time, even if i’d had a much much higher body fat percentage to start with) i do think that more than a bit of my weight loss was in lost muscle mass because i wasn’t maintaining properly and wasn’t keeping up with my lifting as much (which i forgive myself for because i was literally starving, even if only slightly). i think i would have actually gotten even better results (in terms of my personal desired body composition, not weight lost because as i said i definitely lost too much weight too quickly for it to be healthy) if i had just made myself eat an extra snack a few nights a week

either way i think i’m going to end the deficit early and slowly start upping my calories and lifts again. i remember starting this not-a-diet and being so so terrified i was going to relapse completely and convinced i was going to have to stop myself.

i think i didn’t relapse for a number of reasons

1) from the beginning it was always going to be a finite period of time, based on research into body building-style bulking and cutting. having a definite end date in mind kept me focused on the fact that undereating was a temporary means to a specific end and not a form of self control, punishment, or coping mechanism. it also avoided the ED mentality of “i’m going to restrict as long as it takes until i look the way i want” which always comes with moving goal posts

2) i had one set menu that included 3 easy meals that could all be spiced up different ways (for example dinner was always tofu vegetable stir fry but the veggies, sauce, and seasonings are free choice), correct macros, and room for snacks. this kept me from overthinking, waffling about what i felt okay to eat, constantly reading labels, etc. and by the time i got bored of eating the same thing i was comfortable swapping out meals with roughly the same calories and macros to keep it interesting without having to obsess or overplan

3) i had/have an exit plan that’s evidence based. this consists of increasing calories 100-200 per day with a focus on macros and stopping or continuing based on how i feel, how my body responds, etc. for as long as it takes. Knowing what the next step would be, how to manage the situation if i shock my body and suddenly retain a bunch of water, and avoiding suddenly having to make myself eat more than i was used to and the anxiety that would come with that, all made me way more comfortable and confident that i was in control of the restriction and not the other way around. i also specifically didn’t plan out anything after i get back to maintenance so i’m not rushing.

i know i need to spend at least eight weeks at maintenance before i decide to bulk, cut again, or continue at maintenance and i plan to make that choice very leisurely (though with me having lost more lean muscle mass than anticipated and me really missing the energy to lift, i think i’m leaning towards a bulk. i think giving myself the opportunity to eat more and manage those feelings in a stable environment might actually be really good for my recovery, and having a goal that’s focused on building myself rather than shrinking myself seems like a good activity to push my comfort level.

lots of rambles to say TLDR; i did my very first mentally healthy, non-ed calorie deficit and i’m very proud of myself for staying consistent and not slipping into bad patterns again

#tw weight loss #tw diet culture #tw ed recovery #idk what the banned tag sitch is rn but id rather no one see it than someone who doesn’t want to do

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years ago

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 12: The Mirror]

A/N: Hi y’all!! Please enjoy, this is a long one. We’re getting into the exciting stuff now, so I’ll be putting all my creative energy into BYCNL and will hopefully finish up the series within the next month. Thank you so much for your love and support! Each and every reblog/message/comment makes me smile and means the absolute world to me! 💜

Chapter summary: John gets a rap sheet, Roger gets defensive, Y/N gets suspicious, News Of The World gets a headline.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, drugs, babies, drama, angst.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

You’re not late. You’re never late.

And at first that’s okay, it’s more than okay, it’s a relief; because it was too soon to have a baby anyway, less than a year into a supposedly meaningless marriage, a marriage you and Roger never even speak of, a marriage that might have never happened at all—might only exist as a particularly vivid and pleasant dream—if it wasn’t for your freshly-minted British citizenship. At first you greeted each dark, fruitless stain of blood with a casual ruefulness—oh well, one more month of freedom, you would think, smiling a little, worrying not very much at all—content to let that milestone trophy of womanhood, of life, lay undusted and unclaimed in the cluttered pit of your mental oak trunk with a tarnished gold latch shaped like a lion’s jaw.

After four months, you start to notice things. You notice the way Chrissie’s twins have small willow-green eyes that turn down in the corners, just like Brian does; you notice how John’s children have his downy hair and that innate sort of reticence that some people mistake for banality; you notice all those pretty, anonymous young women pushing strollers through the blossoming summer foliage of Hyde Park. You notice the way Roger grins and waves at babies when you see them in airports or hotel lobbies, dazzles them like he dazzles very nearly everybody, like he still dazzles you. You notice a longing buried in your bones that you hadn’t known existed.

After six months, you are no longer casually rueful. You start ignoring the calendar, as if not noticing you’re due could stop the bleeding from coming at all, like how you’re not supposed to stare at the clock if you want time to pass faster. You start watching what you’re eating, trying to get more sleep, opening all the windows when Roger smokes as he flips through fashion and music magazines with crafty little snickers, flashing those pointy canine teeth you once assumed your children would have.

And now, after nine months—as the world hurtles towards the conclusion of the brisk October of 1977—you have begun to worry; because maybe this thing, this thing that everyone accepts as a guaranteed feature of the all-inclusive package of the human experience, isn’t something you get to have at all. Roger doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask you about it. He is as he always is: sunlight and joy and heat and raw kinetic energy. But sometimes Roger’s huge blue eyes—those eyes you fell in love with, those eyes that convinced you to follow Queen to London, to stardom, to thunderous stadiums all over the world—go vacant as he gazes out into the horizon, as the sun sets over the garden of the Surrey house, as his face is lit up in gold and amber and celestial fury like the wildfire his soul is made of.

And you’ve begun to worry about him, too.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings from the nightstand. The shrill clanging, like hail on glass, makes you wince beneath the tangle of blankets. Your hand fumbles out into cool night air, which pours in from the open bedroom window.

Where’s Roger?

Then you remember his hushed voice, his bleached hair tickling your cheek, his lips pressed to your temple: Hey baby. I gotta go jam with some people. Grab a drink or two. You sleep, I’ll be back by morning.

Sure, okay, fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. One of those infinite casualties of fame.

You haul the phone to your ear. “Hello...?”

“Hello darling, are you busy?”

“Well, it’s 2:39 a.m., Fred. So not very.”

“Perfect. I need you to go post bail for John.”

You wrench yourself upright, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “What?!”

“He was drunk driving and backed into a cop car, pure genius. I’m rather indisposed myself at the moment, and of course Veronica can’t know. And you’re so good with him, dear.”

Your feet have already swung off the bed and onto the plush white carpet. You wonder what Freddie is ‘indisposed’ with; there are so many possibilities these days. “And you know about this...because...?”

“He used his phone call on me, darling. I don’t think he wanted to bother you. I suspect he’s a bit mortified.”

“Yeah, well, he should be.” You sigh and start pawing through the safe in the bedroom closet, the spiraled phone cord pulled taunt. Hundred-pound notes shuffle weightlessly between your fingers. You remember when Queen had no money at all, when you and Roger shared a pitiful—dodgy, you amend—one-bedroom flat, when you had to assemble each bouquet and tie each ribbon for John’s wedding by hand; and you’re shocked by the nostalgia that hits you in the gut like brass knuckles. “Sure, I’ll go get him. Just tell me where he is and how much he’ll owe me.”

John is slumped on the floor of the jail cell, alone and sweated and miserable. His hair is in complete disarray. He peers up at you through the iron bars with red, swollen, unfocused eyes.

“Hey,” you say quietly, smiling although you know you shouldn’t be.

He covers his face with both hands and moans. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Too late. Freddie asked me to come get you, he was drunk or high or in the middle of an orgy or something. You are the worst drunk driver in the world, just so you’re aware. You are obviously not cut out for a life of crime.”

“So I’ve gathered.” He swipes at the strands of hair stuck to his forehead with the back of his hand, bites his lower lip, shakes his head with that thousand-yard stare that says: How the fuck did I get here?

You drop down to your knees to meet him at his level. The concrete floor is filthy, spotted with grime and dust and crushed insects and smears of what might be blood. “What’s going on, John?” you ask gently.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he murmurs. “It’s okay when we’re on tour. When we’re on tour I’m preoccupied and exhausted and too high on the rush to think about it too much. I’m numb. Mostly. But then I come home and it’s...” He glowers, balls his hands into fists, beats them clumsily against his thighs. “It’s this relentless fucking cycle of feeling dissatisfied and guilty and inadequate. A disappointment of a husband. A failure of a father. And it’s inescapable.”

“Well, the constant pregnancy situation probably doesn’t help.” Veronica is expecting their third child in February.

He waves a hand dismissively, rolls his eyes. “It’s part of the thing. The ‘being a good husband’ thing. I can’t fix that. Birth control is a sin or whatever. Jesus is too busy pissing himself over that to care about starving kids in the Soviet Union, I guess.”

“That’s a cheerful prospect.”

“Sorry.”

“No, please, by all means. Throw off all your baggage, I can take it.”

Now he smirks, just faintly. “That’s what we’ve always done for each other, right?”

“We’ll be back on tour in a few weeks, John.” And that was true; the News Of The World Tour was scheduled to begin on November 11th in Portland, Maine. The band would spend the 12th in Boston and join your parents for dinner at the Queen Anne-style house at the intersection of Apple and Arcadia that you grew up in.

He whispers forlornly: “I can’t run from this forever.”

“You might have to. I’d love to know what Slavic Jesus has to say about divorce.”

John coughs out a surprised laugh. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Come on. I posted your bail. I won’t tell Roger if you won’t. You can put the extra five thousand pounds in your ‘fake my own death and go live on a tropical island’ fund instead of paying us back.” You’re not serious, and John knows that; he would never abandon his children, even if they weren’t old enough to really remember him yet. But it has the desired effect, which of course is lifting the mood, making John divulge that rare and beautiful smile.

“I’m a wreck. I can’t go home like this. It’d be worse than not coming home at all.”

“I’m happy to offer you one of our five superfluous bedrooms.”

“Okay,” John sighs, clutching the bars of his jail cell and dragging himself to his feet. “I’m so sorry. I owe you for this, I really do.”

“No,” you reply, grinning. “Just find a way to send me the coordinates so I can visit you on your secret tropical island once in a while.”

You drive John home to the Surrey house, get him set up in the spare bedroom with the blue-grey wallpaper and blankets patterned with seahorses, give him a stack of Roger’s clean clothes, lay out fresh towels and a tray of water and cookies—biscuits, you reprimand yourself—for him. He’s mostly sober now, which makes you feel somewhat better; still, you are aware that you hate the thought of leaving him alone, even if he’s only a few walls away.

“Thank you,” he says as you stand in the doorway, his face meditative, his hands in the pockets of his leather coat.

“Of course.”

“You’re a good friend. The best, actually.”

“You’re a good man. You don’t always know it, but you are.”

John just stares at you with an expression you can’t read. Like the ocean: always mysterious, always profound. “Goodnight,” he says after a while.

“Goodnight, John.”

As you pull the bedroom door shut, you hear erratic thumps coming up the staircase. Roger stumbles into the upstairs hallway, singing under his breath and drumming the air with invisible drumsticks, and holds out his arms when he sees you. He’s wearing his dark green suit, an unraveling tie, one sparkling pink Converse, his prescription sunglasses tangled in his hair and forgotten. His eyes are effervescent, flighty, almost manic.

“Hey, love of my life!” he cries, comically loud. “What are you doing up?!”

“Shhhhh! Your bassist partied a little too hard and needed a place to crash that wasn’t overrun with kids. He’s in the blue room.”

“Deaks? Deaks is sleeping over?!” Roger exclaims, beaming. “All my favorite people are here!”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t bother him. He’s pretty messed up, he needs the rest. I’ll make everyone pancakes in the morning or something. Come over here, let’s get you—” But the words die in your throat as you try to tug off Roger’s suit jacket. Fine white powder sheds off the emerald velvet fabric and onto your palm. You blink at it, at the residue like crushed aspirin, like the salt they scatter on Boston roads the night before a snowfall. “What is this?”

He rips his sleeve away, conjures up a smile to throw you off the trail. To dazzle his way out of this. “Nothing.” But he knows. And he knows you know too.

“You were...snorting coke...?”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that...” He tries to embrace you; you shove him back.

“Roger, no, this is...this is...” You shake your head, shrugging off the shock, searching for the words. You’re confused, you’re exhausted, your mind is whirling. “We’re home, Roger,” you plead, like it means something.

Has he done this before? When? How often? With who?

You should know the answers. It’s not a good sign that you don’t.

“So?” Now he’s indignant.

“So it’s not like being on tour, you’re supposed to take it easy at home, you’re supposed to be, I don’t know, relaxed and recovering and, and, and content...”

You’re not supposed to have an excuse to do all those things that destroy people.

He laughs bitterly. “What, ‘happy at home’?! When has that ever been me?”

“Rog, please, I’m not saying you can’t work all the time or drink or smoke, I’m not even saying you can’t get wasted, I’m just drawing the line at cocaine and I don’t think that’s a terribly despotic place to draw a line.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I must have missed it, when did you become too moralistic for drugs?”

“Acid is different than coke and you know it. Acid doesn’t kill people.”

He glares at you, savage, almost hateful. “You don’t get to put me in a cage.”

“I’m not being controlling or self-righteous, I’m being concerned—”

“You’re being a fucking cop, that’s what you’re being,” Roger snaps.

“What do you want me to say?! I’m a registered nurse, Roger, I’m a medical professional, it’s literally my job to keep you alive—”

“No, it’s your job to make sure we can record and tour and I need it, I can’t play without it, don’t you get that?! I fucking need it!”

Instantly, John is between you, still fully dressed and sweating Manhattans out of his pores and seething. He’s taller than Roger; surely you must have noticed that before. But if you had, you’ve since forgotten. “Roger,” he threatens in a low, unyielding voice. “Go to bed.”

Roger recoils, disoriented, then opens his mouth to protest.

“Go!” John roars, pointing towards the main bedroom. He wants to say more, you can tell, he has rage burning in him like dragonfire; and if it had been Brian or even Freddie, John would have said it. But this is Roger. And you can’t remember a time John has ever raised his voice to Roger before now.

Roger can’t wrap his brain around it either, particularly in his present condition. His eyelids flutter a few times, then he scoffs—a dismissive, derisive sound, a sound that says I don’t know what to do with this information—and staggers away. He slams the bedroom door behind him as he disappears inside.

You collapse against the nearest wall and hiss in ragged breaths through your teeth, your eyes wet and stinging, your hands trembling as you press your knuckles to your lips.

“I-I-I’m so sorry about that,” you whisper, avoiding John’s eyes.

He’s going to say something, something harsh and terrible but true. He’s finally going to tell me how stupid I was for ever thinking this could work, just like Chrissie and Freddie and Brian. He’s going to tell me I deserve it.

Instead, John offers only this, his words flat and hollow: “Yeah. I’m sorry everyone is disappointing you tonight.”

And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning—early afternoon, really—Roger doesn’t remember; or at least he feigns convincingly that he doesn’t. He props his feet up on the kitchen table and shovels down six pancakes and theatrically relays to you all the scandalous celebrity gossip in the News Of The World magazine with his prescription sunglasses perched bookishly on his nose. He asks you three times if you’re alright, trying to read the hesitance in your eyes, to unearth all those questions that are taking up a permanent residence there. You smile and nod, sip your tea, watch the sharp autumn sunshine as it streams in through the windows and bathes Roger in luminescence that seems so benignly interminable in the light of day. And when you peer into the bedroom with seahorse-patterned blankets and walls the color of cold rain, John has vanished; but the air is heavy with the scent of a litany of cigarettes and there’s a handwritten note left on one pillow.

Thanks for everything. Hang tough, as the Yanks say. An island getaway awaits you.

~ World’s Worst Drunk Driver

At 3 p.m., John calls and asks if the Taylors would be interested in an outing to the park while he gives Veronica a few hours alone to catch up on housework without the kids. His tone is light, casual, harmless; but you suspect he’s checking in on you.

“Of course we’re interested!” Roger says, snatching his ostentatious fur coat off the back of his chair. “Baby, love of my life, go get some cash from the safe so we can buy the kids ice cream.”

Incidentally, there’s not much cash left in the safe; but you find a ten-pound note in your wallet for the ice cream man and make a mental note to run to the bank on Monday.

Hyde Park in October isn’t so different than Boston. The leaves above are a kaleidoscope of sunstone and rubies and jasper and jade, crisping and curling around their serrated edges, drifting listlessly onto pavement paths to be crushed beneath rushing feet; the roots of the trees are centuries deep. Chrissie is walking laps around the pond as she pushes the twins’ stroller; Evelyn is a fairly good sleeper, but Theodore—Teddy to his closest confidants, of which you are one—is an anxious baby and prone to whining. He’s definitely Brian’s son, you often find yourself thinking with an affectionate smirk. John’s ten-month-old daughter Anna is nestled in your arms in a semi-conscious state, having thoroughly exhausted herself by painting her face with chocolate ice cream and thereafter enduring an impromptu bath and wardrobe change in a public restroom.

Laszlo, two years old and with a mop of auburn curls, trots by the edge of the pond as Roger grips his tiny hand, periodically crouches down beside him, grins hugely and points out swans and fish darting through the dark rippling water. Laszlo shrieks with laughter and tries to steal Roger’s sunglasses, which glint in the sunlight like black mirrors.

“So your kid’s a convict too,” you say to John.

“Gotta train them when they’re still small and good for shimmying through dog doors and such.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Extremely hungover, but I’m trying not to show it.”

“You’re doing a good job, I wouldn’t have known.”

“Excellent. I don’t think Veronica noticed. She was very curious about how I ended up in a pair of Roger’s skintight leopard-print pants, though.”

You chuckle, glimpsing down at Anna, rocking her a little as her eyes flitter open and then close again. You and John are on opposite ends of a wooden park bench, your ankles crossed and resting in his lap, your hair rustling in the breeze. John peers over at you periodically, studies you like an ancient statue of Aphrodite or Perseus under a spotlight in an echoing museum, then resumes his sketching. Your smile dies as you watch Roger giggle with Laszlo, lift him high into the cool autumn air, trumpet mock airplane noises in that high, raspy voice.

“Come on,” John prompts, nudging your boots. “I’ll take the baggage if you’ll let me.”

No, I think I’ll keep this one to myself. But you don’t. “It’s my fault,” you say softly. It’s my fault we can’t have children.

John lifts his pencil from the page, his greyish eyes gentle. “You don’t know that.”

“Statistically, it is most likely my fault.”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it? Definitely less than a year. Sometimes these things take time.”

“They didn’t for you and Veronica.”

“Yes, well...” John frowns uneasily. “That’s not always such a blessing.”

“How helpful. You should write newspaper columns for depressed housewives. ‘Don’t worry about that infertility dear, you could have it worse, you could have a life sentence with someone you can’t fucking stand.’”

That was unkind, you think, immediately regretting it. That might have been too far.

But John doesn’t seem offended. His pencil flies over the paper as he glances over at you again. “Is that all? Please continue. I’m riveted to learn more about my alternative career path.”

“No, I think I’m done.”

“Okay. What’s your favorite flower?”

You consider that. “Roger always gets me carnations or roses...and I like them, don’t get me wrong...but I don’t know if I’d call either of those my favorite.”

“It’s not that deep a question, Miss Nightingale.”

“I’ll defer to the artist’s expertise. Surprise me.”

“I’m no artist,” John warns, but he returns to his sketching nonetheless. “I’m really sorry about last night, by the way. I was being stupid and dramatic and immature and self-pitying. ‘Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost,’ etcetera etcetera.”

You’re no great connoisseur of Italian literature, but you recognize those famous opening lines of the Inferno. “Can I ask you something?”

“Please do.”

“What is this fascination you have with Dante?”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles pensively with his eyes cast out over the pond. “I like that his story has a happy ending. That someone can start in hell and sweat out all their sins in purgatory and end up among the stars.”

You raise your eyebrows, taken back, impressed. “That’s awfully poetic.”

“It’s strange, probably,” John says, scrutinizing his drawing.

“No, really. I love it.”

“Yeah?” He’s doubtful, but he’ll allow himself to believe you if you insist.

“Yeah. And no more drunk driving or other acts of self-destruction, okay? Queen would crumble without you, John. And so would I.”

In reply, he rips the page out of his notebook and hands it over. The image is of you: so infinitely more lovely and at peace than you feel, eyes wise and contented and reflecting halos of sunlight, John’s daughter dozing in your arms.

Tucked behind your ear, etched in graphite shadows, is a calla lily.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling, what do I look like?” Freddie bats his eyelashes flirtatiously.

“A raccoon.”

His face screws into a grimace. “I’m supposed to be a cat.”

“Yes, I’m cognizant of that. But you look like a raccoon. Which is why people keep assuming you’re a raccoon, which is why you’re asking me now if you look like one.”

“Bloody hell,” he groans, puffs on a cigarette, fluffs his hair irritably, slurps a drink that is fizzy and sapphire blue.

“The problem is that you went with black and white. You should have dressed as a calico or something. Or a grey cat, oh, I love the chubby grey ones!”

“I’m a musician, darling, not a fucking zoologist.” He exhales a ring of smoke and meanders away.

Queen, the band’s associates, and various music industry figures are all milling around the night-draped mansion. It’s half a Halloween celebration and half a launch party for News Of The World, an album named for the tabloid that Roger both loathes and yet refuses to stop having delivered to the Surrey house. He can’t stand the thought of not being clued into the latest gossip, trends, fashion, awards, of missing any piece of what stardom has to offer. In the spirit of Halloween, Roger is dressed as a tiger, his sleeveless sequined shirt striped with orange and black. You are a veterinarian (not so far a cry from a nurse that you can’t repurpose your old uniform), John a shark (he’s taped a cardboard triangle to his back like a fin), Veronica a sea turtle in a teal dress and with a shell painted over her sizable baby bump, Brian and Chrissie both bright green aliens with antennae bobbing from their headbands. Mary is here as well—outfitted (quite appropriately) like an Enlightenment-era queen—but so is Freddie’s new boyfriend, a shy man named Anthony who is young and handsome and compliant and dressed as a mouse. Mary beams dutifully whenever Freddie is speaking to her, but her expression clouds over when he turns away. She no longer has a gold ring gleaming on her wedding finger, although she did gain an athletic blond date whom she seems largely indifferent to.

As Roger wanders through the crowd shaking hands and howling at jokes, you sip champagne by the snack table and devour an obscene amount of crab puffs. John and Veronica are chatting—unenthusiastically, from what you can tell—nearby with lamb kabobs in their grasps. John passes you a smirk every once in a while, an I’m so over this party and I know you are too smirk of commiseration, and nurses a Manhattan. Chrissie nibbles on disks of cucumber and baby carrots and not much else, which is very unlike her.

“You alright?” you ask worriedly. “You aren’t sick, are you? These crab puff things are incredible, I can’t stop eating them. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had three dinners so far tonight, I’ve become a monster.”

Chrissie’s lips are a tight, humorless line. “I’m perfectly healthy, I’m just a cow.”

“Chris, honey, don’t!” You pat her shoulder reassuringly with one hand, pop another crab puff into your mouth with the other. “You’re gorgeous, and most women’s bodies change once they have babies, it’s natural!”

“Yeah, well most women aren’t married to men with infinite opportunities to upgrade.”

“Chrissie, no,” you murmur, pained; but you aren’t sure what else to say. She’s not wrong. I wish she was, but she isn’t. And she already knows that.

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is playing from the reverberating stereo, Stevie Nicks’ sensuous, nasally voice climbing through air choked with strangers and cigarette smoke.

“Now here you go again

You say you want your freedom

Well, who am I to keep you down?”

Brian bids farewell to some record company executive he was talking to across the room and slips out onto the back porch of the house, and after a moment Chrissie follows him. You resist the temptation to eavesdrop until you can clearly hear their voices, raised and combative, through the sliding glass door. You glance to John, apprehensive.

You better go out there, he mouths, and so you do.

“Thunder only happens when it's rainin'

Players only love you when they're playin'

Say women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know...”

Under cold October stars, Chrissie has trapped her horrified-looking husband, backed him into a fountain of a dolphin spewing an endless stream of water from its snout. “Did you think I wouldn’t listen to your own fucking album, Brian?!” She shrieks. “Who is she, huh? Who the fuck is she?!”

You grip her arm and try to lead her away. “Chrissie, babe, not here—”

“It’s Late, Brian? Yeah, it’s real fucking late in your life to still be chasing whores over in America while I’m building your family here, isn’t it?!”

“Love, please, it’s not true,” Brian attempts anemically, reaching for her.

“It is!” Chrissie rages. “It is and it always has been and I was too busy being some blind stupid idiot who loved you to see it!”

She breaks down in tears and you shove Brian away, shoo him back inside. You pitch him a fierce glare as he leaves, retreating like a kicked dog. There’s nothing you can do to fix this, you coward. Because everything she’s saying is true. Chrissie clings to you like a life raft, sobbing into your shoulder, asking what she did wrong.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her, over and over again; because that’s all there is to say.

Eventually Chrissie quiets, goes still and resigned and numb, and you help her fix her makeup and lead her back inside. You stand with her beside the snack table and swear not to leave her side until the party’s over, until the men are done celebrating yet another triumph that will take them further and further from home. Brian is nowhere to be found.

“That goddamn broodmare,” Chrissie hisses, gulping straight vodka, staring venomously at Veronica.

“Why do you hate her so much? I mean she can be dull, yeah. She’s sanctimonious and naïve and dresses like a freaking Mennonite. But she’s not horrible or anything.” And her life isn’t so perfect either.

“It’s not obvious?” Chrissie asks, her voice like a blade.

“No...?”

Chrissie’s eyes are scorching, although you’re not the person she’s furious with. You just happen to be standing in the path of the storm. “Because she’s the only one of us who’s never going to have to find out what this feels like.”

Oh, I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.

You try to spot Roger in the teeming room. He’s over by a crackling fireplace, telling stories with dramatic sweeps of his hands, bleeding charisma like sweat, and none of that is unusual at all. One of the people he’s talking to is Dominique Beyrand, and that’s not so unusual either; Richard Branson ends up at a lot of industry events, and Dom trails him around like a shadow, nodding politely and contributing little chirps of conversation in that posh French accent.

But here’s the strange part; here’s the part you’ve never seen before.

When Roger flashes that dazzling smile of his, Dominique smiles back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, you’re steeping in a sweltering bubble bath as the phone rings downstairs. You ignore it at first, because the hot water is unraveling all the tension in your muscles and the lurking shadows in your mind, and also because the calendar is hanging right beside the phone in the kitchen and you’re quite committed to ignoring it this morning. But the phone rings again, and again, and you’re aware that it could be something serious; Roger is working on some non-Queen collaboration at a studio in downtown London, and something could have happened to him.

Especially considering his recreational preferences lately.

You scramble out of the tub, pull on a robe that sticks uncomfortably to your dripping skin, leave a path of bathwater footprints down the hallway and steps—slipping twice and clinging to the banister for dear life—before finally careening into the kitchen to snatch the phone off the wall.

“Hello?” you gasp, winded.

It’s not Roger, nor someone calling to inform you that Roger has overdosed or disappeared or vaulted down a staircase or been hit by a bus. It’s Chrissie.

“Have you seen the News Of The World yet?” she demands.

“Ummm, the album...?” Of course I’ve listened to the album. About a million times. You have a particular affinity for Spread Your Wings.

“No, not the album,” she snaps impatiently, although she kindly leaves out the you idiot addition that her tone implicates. “The magazine. Have you seen it today?”

“I was mid-bubble bath and almost broke my neck sprinting for the phone. So no.”

“Good. Don’t read a word. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m coming over. I’m gonna grab John and come right over.”

“Chris, what—?”

“Do not touch that fucking magazine!” she screams, and hangs up.

Naturally, you don’t listen.

You go to the main door of the Surrey mansion and open it. Sure enough, the new issue of News Of The World is waiting on the porch for you. You pluck it up with damp hands; the whirlpools of your fingerprints stick to the parchment.

On the front page is a photo of Roger, but he’s not alone. He’s scowling at the paparazzo snapping the picture, his face lit up by the flash, painfully and unmistakably stunning. He’s in some sort of alley or side entrance to a restaurant or club. He’s somewhere he’s trying not to be seen, which anyone could tell you is remarkable for Roger Taylor. Beside him is a woman you recognize; and although she’s looking down and trying to hide behind her shock of lustrous black hair, you can see her lips are smiling.

The headline reads: “Queen Drummer Spends Royally on London Love Nest for French Mistress.”

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boundlesshart · 4 years ago

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how royal succession works in Almyra + Other Things about almyra that’s been rattling in my head since that nintendo dream interview laid waste on my crops

hi, so after reading M’s @ladamedepique drabble about a concubine war kid getting kmarted, i realized that what i actually want to write is the Everything i’ve been thinking about since this nintendo dream interview came out back in march. so i did. it’s 2am and im hungry.

i realize that it’s been a while, so the summary of that interview’s impact on my claude headcanons is “my handcrafted claude backstory that i had to write myself bc intsys decided fuck claude is now irreversibly fucked by the introduction of a bunch of half-siblings he had to be rivals with.” if you ever catch yourself wondering why this is such a mess, well because that’s exactly what this is! this is all subject to change, it’s same kind of “haphazard and bizarrely long half-baked headcanon report” that my dlc thought train was. i’ve changed my mind at least 20 times during this process i will change it again

i’d like to thank zotero for holding all of my journal articles and pdfs on the ottomans and their succession system, and also magnificent century og and kosem, while not being totally historically accurate, for being a fun soap opera to give me some visuals to work with in my head. i now have a positive understanding of what claude’s shitty little beard could realistically look like, which is a gift that i never thought i would have.

Almyran Succession

All of the king’s children, regardless of if they were born in or out of wedlock, is considered a legitimate prince or princess. This is pretty much the only title that they can expect to have, as they and their mothers cannot inherit any lands, titles or wealth that would have been passed to them from their own families. Almyran property law aims to avoid partitioning property between multiple heirs for the sake of maintaining the family’s financial stability. The throne of Almyra works under the same principle, which had led to the introduction, legalization, and practice of open succession.

Open succession, despite its potential to be cruel, is viewed as a necessary step to ensure that the throne would only be held by strong leaders chosen by the people (”people” ending up being the higher-ranking officials that would benefit from a specific child’s ascension). If they proved to be lacking, they would simply be deposed of and replaced.

What determines who becomes the next ruler of Almyra is not whether a child is the oldest of all the children, but if they and their allies have the political acumen to not only claim kingship but keep it, fighting off their rival brothers and sisters.

All sons and unmarried daughters are eligible to rule Almyra. By law is not only the next ruler’s right but duty to remove other potential heirs to secure their right to rule and the stability of their reign. Generally upon a ruler’s ascension to the throne, their brothers will be killed and their sisters married off or killed if they threaten their siblings’ rule. Exceptions have been made in the past, but they are few and far in between and have led to succession crises down the road.

The previous ruler’s choice for an heir is usually accepted after their death, and ideal for minimizing the interregnum period. Even so, it doesn’t guarantee that the heir will be able to keep the throne.

Ok, but where do the kids come from?

Rulers of Almyra are allowed to have multiple spouses, but they usually only marry for political purposes.

The vast majority of children are mothered or fathered by concubines with no background of political power, which is preferred. Princes and princesses are allowed to have children once they leave the palace (to prove that they can have them), but if they have too many they may be considered a threat to the king and dealt with appropriately.

I think the one mother-one child rule would have been in place here, not necessarily as a law but as a rule enforced by other spouses and concubines, as well as the ruler’s mother or father.

Princes and princesses aren’t dropping like flies, and murdering them without having the law on your side is considered treason of the highest order. They’re still aware of their competition and fear being murdered when one of their siblings takes the thrones, so few end up becoming friends.

Children are ultimately their mother’s or father’s responsibility. They are expected to guide them through their education and follow them to their provincial post when they are old enough, setting them up for success and paving their path to the throne. King and Queen Dowagers have been incredibly influential in Almyran history and support their children by representing them politically and managing their spouses and concubines.

Ok, whatever, just tell me what’s relevant to Claude:

Ibrahim, Claude’s father, became the king of Almyra only after 5 year civil war between himself and his two remaining brothers. He got to the throne first and is still feared for the ruthless execution of even his youngest brothers and sisters.

In all, Ibrahim has had 2 wives and 12 concubines, and he has fathered 10 sons and 6 daughters. A few died to childhood illnesses but most made it to at least 13 years old. He’s a doting father and cares for their well-being, though only when he happens to see them. Though he was a constant presence in Claude’s life, his half-siblings usually only saw him during holidays.

No one in Almyra knows that Tiana is the daughter of Duke Riegan, for all they know she’s a Fódlaner that King Ibrahim brought back with him after a short border strife with the Leicester Alliance. Obviously she goes by another name in Almyra, and here is where I think I’m going to bring back the first name I had for her, Desdemona. Suck it, intsys. She wasn’t liked when she first came due to being from Fódlan, and was accused of witchcraft when Ibrahim married her and devoted himself to her at the expense of his other wives as concubines. As the herd of children and concubines thinned, Tiana’s strong personality and battle prowess garnered her respect among the top officials of the Almyran court and even her enemies.

In Fódlan Year 1175, rebels infiltrate the palace walls and kill over a dozen people, from palace servants to princes and princesses. In the moment it was believed to be part of a revolt that was ongoing in the capital at the time and carried out by rebels storming the palace walls and stealing and killing whatever came in their way. After an investigation, it was discovered that that was just a cover up for.... a noble Almyran house trying to make a power grab through either an older son or with their own heir? I’ve been working out the details on this for months and I still don’t have them ironed out don’t look at me. It ends with a couple of older half-sibs dying but more importantly Claude’s older and younger brother dying and Claude nearly dying himself, only to survive with the Crest of Riegan. I imagine that there have been instances before hinted at him having the Crest of Riegan, but it was this incident that confirmed it for Tiana.

These are the notable royal family members, or the ones I’ve spent at least one second thinking of:

King Ibrahim II of Almyra: Claude’s dad, born Fódlan year 1131 so 19 when he ascends the throne. He is feared but respected, brutal to his enemies, firm with his allies... but you’d be surprised by how easygoing he actually is with friends and family. He’s young at heart and energetic, even laughing at jokes made at his expense, but only in very close company. He loves writing poetry, especially to Tiana, and he frequently sends her love letters so that one can be read out to her every morning and evening when her mail is given to her. Relishes the thrill of battle. Nader introduced him to kumis back when they were boys and to this day Ibrahim regularly drinks a glass each night, claiming it makes him stronger.

There’s a tradition in the royal family that all princes and princesses must learn a trade in case that they fall into misfortune. Ibrahim enjoys goldsmithing when he is alone, a good distraction from his thoughts. Claude’s earring is part of a set given to his mother, crafted by his father as a gift.

Tiana von Riegan/Desdemona: Claude’s mom, born Fódlan year 1135. Claude calls her a warrior goddess and a demon queen that would laugh at his expense, I imagine that she’s in that “dead serious but good humored about it” boat like Claudedad, but less sappy about it. A tough but loving mother, she was very involved in her children’s upbringing and did her best to secure their place in the royal family. She doesn’t teach any of her kids the Fódlanguage because she was distancing herself from That, but Claude is able to convince her to help him learn (though she was reluctant about it and limited their lessons greatly, forcing him to teach himself mostly). She has firmly decided to never return to Fódlan, but a cup of Leicester Cortania is her guilty pleasure. These days Tiana spends her time at her husband’s side in Maragheh, keeping up with her training.

Two older half-brothers: So Claude’s endings have him as heir to the throne without a mention of rivals, but part of me feels like that’s too simple for Claude considering he just up and walked out of there 7 years ago so here we are, two rivals. They’re probably early to mid 30s at this point and have one or two small children of their own. I don’t know their names yet, but my initial ideas are a “nice” brother cool calculated pushing up glasses kind of dude that is actually a huge dick and a chad dudebro who’s just trying to distance himself from these bad vibes.

If I had to give them trades, nice brother likes to fish and sails for pleasure (he governs a coastal province) and chad brother carves wooden thumbrings.

Orhan: Claude’s older brother, born Fódlan Year 1160. He was conceived months before Tiana went to Almyra (born 5 months after she arrived), so his parentage has been in doubt from day 1. I imagine him as having low self-esteem since he was believed to be a full-blooded Fódlaner, discriminated against in a similar way or worse than what the rest of his siblings went through. Historians would later debate whether or not he was actually Ibrahim’s son.... but we’re not historians, and Orhan was definitely his son. Died in the FY1175 uprising at the age of 15.

No idea what he looked like, he just happened to not look like his parents. His favorite food was salted cod, but he was rarely able to get it. Orhan enjoyed playing the violin.

Claude/Khalid: You know him, you love him, born Fódlan Year 1162 under another name. He’s the only kid that ended up getting the Crest of Riegan, and after one too many accidents where that crest ended up proccing, he’s been accused of practicing witchcraft like his mother. I think this would be a better like, concrete thing for the Almyrans to fixate on rather than a general “you’re half-Fódlan rahhh” and I think it would definitely go with Claude talking about how he was constantly fighting and explaining himself to get out of trouble.

If I’m going with the “kids can only inherit from the ruler of Almyra”, then I’m gonna have to figure out how Claude fits into this. His first move is to probably bullshit a loophole about how actually the Dukedom of Riegan doesn’t exist anymore and I may have destroyed Failnaught after the final battle so technically I didn’t really inherit anything that would give me an edge in Almyran politics. :). Ibrahim is pissed at Claude for going to Fódlan in the first place and getting caught up in a war and he definitely did not sign off on Nader bringing Almyran troops into a war that they have no business being involved in. The first thing Ibrahim does when Claude returns to Maragheh is shout at him and ground him to his apartment in the palace. And then proceed to assign Claude to a governmental post so that he’s out of his sight.

As an aside, I imagine that when Ibrahim dies and Claude rises to the throne, he deliberately delays his coronation so that it coincides with the Almyran New Year. It;s that kind of inconvenient dick move that he would delight in making bc symbolism.

You know what he looks like, in terms of food he strays away from sugary sweet stuff and towards meat and cheese. I’d like to think that he gains a genuine interest in gardening (like, beyond just cultivating poisonous plants as a cover for “gardening”) during his time in Fódlan and brings back different seedlings and scions for grafting back to Almyra.

Mehmet and Rahimah: Twins, born Fódlan Year 1164. Ok so basically I kind of wanted a dead sibling that was around Cyril and Lysithea’s age for the Drama of it (bc I thought of Claude looking at Cyril and thinking of his brother and immediately went “That hurts. Let’s do it”). But I ALSO thought what if Claude had a little sister, and then I ALSO thought what if Claude has a new full-blooded sibling that got conceived during the five year war, like the shittiest surprise. I’ve combined all those ideas into the twins.

First of all, they have more function than personality. Mehmet only exists to die during the uprising, but I’m starting to like Rahimah bc like... she literally loses most of her brothers including her twin, and then Claude up and leaves her for Fódlan (a place she has little connection to, regardless of her mother). Her only remaining sibling is gone for years, misses seven birthdays, her wedding with an Almyran general, the birth of her first child and the announcement of her second... like, by the time Claude comes back to Almyra she hates his guts and you know what? She’s right! I imagine Rahimah angry, but also grasping for literally any kind of deep and long-lasting relationship at this point. She loves her kids fiercely, she loves her husband, and even though they have their struggles she's still very close to her mom. Fuck her no-show brother Khalid, and fuck Fódlan for taking him away from her.

No idea what Mehmet looks like, like I said he only exists to die. Rahimah is shorter than Claude at maybe 5′4, round-faced and carrying herself gracefully. She’s lactose intolerant but she bears the pain for the sake of eating ice cream, and her husband goes to great lengths to get the ice for her. Likes to sing and dance with her son Ömer.

#headcanon #to sleep

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

Braving the Elements

Chapter 12: Shared Nightmares

Tw: War, mentions of genocide, PTSD, swearing (?)

Authors notes: lets get SOFT N ANGSTY

When you go to see Bucky

When he comes to see you

You wake up the next morning groaning, why did you always have to drink so much. You manage to drag yourself out of bed and into the shower, once again scolding yourself for missing your shot with the winter soldier. You get ready for the day ahead which included training some of the new SHIELD recruits. After a carb filled breakfast and multiple cups of coffee you get yourself over to the training facility where the rest of the crew already was.

Steve, Nat and Sam were teaching hand to hand combat, Bucky and Clint were weaponry and you and Wanda were charged with personally training a few of the mutant recruits. You walk over to her.

“So how was your night” you ask. Removing your sunglasses you see her turn bright red before saying it was nice. You raise your eyebrows.

“Before you go getting too excited we watched a movie and fall asleep together.” she says.

“Nothing like what Steve and Nat got up to then.” you say promising to fill her in later. A group of about 27 recruits arrive and make their way over the designated zones. Everything was going fine until you turned your head and noticed a very beautiful recruit standing close to Bucky and squeezing his arm. She was obviously flirting, but what was worse, he was flirting back.

You begin to feel angry, not at the girl or at Bucky, but at yourself. How could you be so naïve to think that there was something going on between the two of you. How could you think you were any different from the rest of the women he had wanted to sleep with.

You feel your skin heat up and a flash of light goes off hitting one of the human recruits in the leg.

“Shit!” you yell running towards him “Fuck! Im sorry I can help” you say kneeling beside the kid. He skirts away from you obviously terrified. You stand up and, realizing you're only going to make the situation worse, excuse yourself and leave the room. The next thing you know you’ve wandered back to the tower. You make your way up to your room, locking the door behind you, you close the curtains and crawl underneath the covers pulling them over your head in an attempt to keep out the events of the day.

After you leave, Nat takes a look at the kid's leg and it looks fine thanks to the fire resistant pants Shuri had designed last year. And training goes on as usual.

Bucky hadn’t seen you for the rest of the day and was starting to worry. He wanted to make sure you were okay. He knew what it felt like to hurt someone involuntarily. He knocks on your door, but with no response and not wanting to pry he leaves to go take a shower. He’s making his way to the kitchen when he sees Wanda coming out of your room gently closing the door behind her.

“Hey” he says urgently, grabbing Wanda's upper arm. “is she okay?”

“No, but she will be. She always is.” Wanda says. “She got used to people being afraid of her at a very young age, most mutants do. Which is why she reacts the way she does she’s so afraid of hurting people she bottles up all her emotions, but every once in a while she boils over and snaps and someone gets hurt.”

“What was she so upset about?” Bucky asked, suddenly wondering if she had seen him flirting with a few of the recruits.

“She wouldn’t say. You know she always used to think she was a monster. It took me years to convince her she wasn’t. One small incident and she's right back to square one." Wanda continues, letting out a deep sigh.

“I know how that feels” Bucky says with a laugh.

“Maybe you could talk to her once she's cooled down a bit? Try and make her see.” Wanda says and he nods.

At around 2am Bucky is drawn out of an unusually peaceful slumber by a knock so faint he almost thinks he’s imagined it.

You stand outside his door for a moment hoping he hadn't heard the knock. Just as you're about to leave the door opens.

“Sorry it's nothing. Wanda wasn’t in her room, forget it.” You say smiling slightly and turning to go back to your room, but he grabs your elbow stopping you. This small act of kindness sends you over the edge and tears start to well in your eyes. He wraps his arms around you, making you feel safe enough to let it all out.

“Bad nightmare” he asks, still half asleep.

“Something like that” you manage to get out between sobs. He picks you up bridal style and places you onto his bed. He gets in next to you and pulls the covers over the two of you, wrapping you back up in a hug. After a few minutes you manage to steady your breathing and stop crying.

“Sorry about that” you say into his chest

“What did I say about apologizing?” he responds while lightly tracing his fingers across your back. “What happened today, the kid he..” Bucky starts softly

“Don’t,” you say your voice breaking as you roll over so not to face him “don’t try and make me feel better. It was my fault I need to learn how to control myself.” Draping his arm over your midsection and pulling you back into him he murmurs “An accident doesn't make you a bad person.”

“You don’t know anything about me” you reply

“Maybe not, but I know what a monster looks like and believe me it’s not you.” he says trying to reassure you

“You don’t know what I’ve done.” you respond flatly

“Then tell me” he says. You proceed to tell him about what really happened after you and the rest of Magneto's team were arrested.

“It wasn’t a choice between war or jail, if we had powers that they thought could help destroy the enemy we were sent to war. I used to think the ones sent to prison were lucky, but after spending 6 months there," you pause shaking your head "I don’t think any of us were lucky. One day they sent us to an outpost. They told us it was an abandoned base and that it needed to be burnt down so terrorists wouldn't re-occupy it. Turns out it was just a village where they thought a war general may have been hiding. I burned down an entire village with innocent people on the premise of a maybe.” You begin to feel it, that anger rising in you again. It quickly dissipates when Bucky softly kisses the top of your head. “ When we found out what they were making us do we told them we were out, they said if we didn’t do it freely we’d do it against our will. So I killed them. All 5 of them” you say, finally exhaling “I’ve never told anyone that before”.

“Killing people who wanted you to commit a genocide, that doesn’t seem like something a monster would do.” He says. Wrapping one of his legs around your own and resting his chin on the top of your head bringing you as close to him as physically possible. `

You wake up the next morning with a cool sensation around your abdomen, you look down and see a metal arm resting gently under the fabric of your shirt. You try to manoeuvre your way out without waking the sleeping soldier next to you. You're almost out of his reach when he tightens his grip and pulls you back into him.

“don’t go” he mutters eyes still closed

“ I have to, before Steve comes to get you for your morning run” you whisper back. Reluctantly he lets go of you and you creep out of his room with a quiet thank you.

A few nights have passed and Bucky wakes up in a cold sweat, terrified and panting. He’d dreamt he was back with Hydra. He knew there was only one way he would be able to get back to sleep. He throws off his covers, pulls on a sweatshirt and makes his way over to the room next door.

Upon hearing a muffled scream, you shoot up in bed. You're about to turn on your lights to investigate who had yelled when a knock at your door answers your question. You ask Friday to open the door revealing Bucky, evidently distressed his eyes looking almost wild.

“Hey” he rasps.

“Hey back” you say before scooting over and patting the bed next to you. He crawls in. The spot was still warm from where you had been a few seconds ago. He turns to face you, he looks like he's fighting back tears.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask gently, slowly running your fingers through his matted hair untangling it. He shakes his head softly.

“Okay” you say “come here then.” he buries his head in your neck and you hear a muffled sob. you rest you leg over his torso and place your hand on his head.

“It's okay, you’re safe” you coo, continuing to play with his hair, singing softly until he falls asleep.

Bucky wakes up first this time. Despite the nightmare he felt surprisingly well rested and he knew that it had everything to do with the person whose arms he had woken up in. He takes the image in for a second admiring the peaceful look on your face and the slight snore coming from your mouth. He goes to pull you closer, when he realizes his hand had found its way to your ass. He removes it quickly, though, not as quickly as he should have and rolls onto his back. Seeing you roll over, he makes his exit not wanting to wake you up. The sudden loss of heat causes your body to shiver, waking you up. You hear the door click as you open your eyes before turning to see the imprint of his body. The only evidence that he was ever there.

#bucky x oc #bucky x reader #bucky x you #braving the elements #bucky barnes #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes slow burn #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky fluff

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skgway · 4 years ago

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1829 Jan., Thurs. 8

5 50/60

Talking to Jno [John] – Then stood talking to M– [Mariana] and not dressed till 7 50/60 – Breakfast, M– [Mariana] and I, in our room at 8 – Afterwards talking to M– [Mariana].

Jno [John] Pearson senior and his son this came about raising the rent of Denmark and Springs – Long, talk about it – Not willing to give any more for the former – To consider if he could give anymore for the latter – Said I would consider and make up my mind by next Monday – All this is very disagreeable –

Went out with M– [Mariana] at 11 25/60. Letter from Mr. Parker soon after 9 – As to the church business,

“There seems no certainty of the time the matter may be settled until arrangements are made for the whole of the new churches in the Parish: However Mr. Musgrave is of opinion that during this month all will be completed, and we again have written to Mr. Jenner requesting his attention of the business” . . .

M– [Mariana] and I measured the railing round the fish-pond, Cunnery brow, and along the 2 Cunneries, then went to look at the 12 guards of as many single trees – The farm near Pump the only ones completed – Then went to look at my new walling along Cowgate wood – Then went to the 2 wallers Wellroyde brow wood, then to Throp trenching as yesterday for holly hedge –

Came in at 2 1/4 – Tired from having so sauntered – Had taken off my pelisse, put on my great coat. I was falling asleep when a gentleman was announced from Mr. C[hristopher] Saltmarshes who particularly wanted to see me –

Went down at 3 – A Mr. Robinson (Mark) from the directions letters he shewed me from Southey of Keswick, archdeacon Wraugham and 1 or 2 more – (from Chester before promoted to the see of London) – Wanted me to sign his book (small and not many names – donations not above ￡5 down to ￡1) and give him a donation – Declined – The subject quite new to me – Requested more consideration than I had therefore had opportunity to give it – Declined therefore for consciensciousness’s sake, giving my support to what I did not sufficiently understand –

He talked for 1 10/60 hour endeavoring to convince or persuade – Never was so flummeried over in my life – My name would do him the greatest good – Would rather have my name than all the rest in the book – He had heard so much of me, he had been most desired to see me, but pleaded the importance of his subject as his excuse for attempting to have so great a gratification –

I should not permit him to repeat half the high encomiums he had heard of me – My name would even do him the greatest service at Huddersfield – Had easily inquired at the Inn at H–x [Halifax] of a Mr. Webster from Huddersfield, if he knew me (I know no such person), and thus learnt of what importance my name was, so was it known and appreciated –

Never so blaried in my life – Said if such was the opinion my friends and neighbors were partial enough to entertain of me, I felt it the more incumbent on me not to give either name or subscription or whatever influence I might have without mature consideration – He asked for objections – Would make none – Said I was as little prepared to object as to defend –

He asked if I was for or against emancipation (Roman Cathoilc) said I was so well satisfied with the powers that be that I should be satisfied with their decision be it what it might – Would not let him into my opinions on any subject – He said I so qualified everything it was impossible for him to object to anything.

Asked if I had studied logic – Said he was aware there was a certain course of logic generally gone thro’ by those pursuing a certain line of education but it was possible to read and spend much time over such matters without profiting much – That, he said, was impossible to a mind like mine – I replied it was very possible to get and forget –

Sadly tired of him, but meaning to be civil, rang for wine of which he took a glass, leaving me his prospectus, and an elevation of the new church methodist chapel erected at Beverly hoping to have my support by and by, of which, however, I gave no hope, determined not to pledge myself to anything –

Mrs. C[hristopher] Saltmarshe very zealous in the cause, she would recommend subscriptions – Had not yet seen Mr. William Priestley to whom the S– [Saltmarshe]s had also recommended him to go – He said they had made sure of my name – Mr. Waterhouse’s name down for ￡5 – The vicar not down – Excused himself on account of his misunderstanding with his parishioners about the tithes, and therefore not being convenient to him to subscribe, Mr. Robinson having refuted all the other objections he made –

Went up to M– [Mariana] at 4 10/60 – Sat talking. At five and a quarter lay on the bed and had two kisses, she evidently wanting them. Dressed. Dinner at 6 10/60 – My father came to us soon after 8 – Went into the dining room to Marian (having too bad a cold to come to us) at 9 –

Wrote all but the 1st 7 lines of today – Mr. William P– [Priestley] in passing had come and spoke to us this morning when measuring the fish pond railing – Mrs. W[illiam] P– [Priestley] too bilious to walk so far as here – Fine winter’s day – Ground white with [r]ime – A slight snowshower or 2 in the afternoon – Went upstairs at 10 20/60 –

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #mariana lawton #Shibden Hall 1829

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satyrcon · 5 years ago

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life update?? i guess??

so im only ever really on here to reblog stuff when i am bored or to write long winding paragraphs about my personal life. its weird that even though i keep a pretty meticulous diary, make the occasional video diary, and feel pretty in tune with my emotions i always feel so much better when i pour myself on here. i like to think that maybe if others read whats going on, i am somewhat validated. so here i am.

last time i wrote was in late november. my boyfriend had just broken up with me. i reread my entry and cried a little bit, even though i feel as if i have shifted leaps and bounds from my last entry. our world in general, with the global pandemic going on seems so fucking different from then. i guess the best way to go about this is to just write events chronologically, separated by the months.

Summer 2019 -- November

my ex-boyfriend, who i will dub as L from this point on, broke up with me officially in late November. it was during a time where i felt like i was on the edge of a particular era in my life, and it terrified me. i had been feeling this particular kind of melancholy as early as August, when it began to dawn on me that my undergraduate degree was almost done and that by the end of the year I would be propelled into the “Real world”. the possibility of starting a new era, while i still had no idea who i was, and if i had achieved anything during that time, frightened me. i would spend my days feeling as if i was sitting in still water. i would look at my snapchat memories of the previous year and start to long for those feelings of confusion and helplessness i had felt then, instead of relishing in my newfound stability. i had a great group of friends, i had a boyfriend who i adored as he did me, i was a strong student with great grades, i had a good work/life balance, yet i just yearned to feel out of control, to spiral, to try new things with new people. even though i loved my surroundings i was frustrated. i was frustrated that my friends, who used to party and try new things every weekend couldn’t manage to stay past 9:00 most nights, i was angry that my boyfriend, as much as i loved him, didn’t feel to make as much of an effort as he once did. i no longer felt like i was being whisked up and brought new experiences. i felt settled in, and quite frankly, bored.

my final semester of university sort of solidified these thoughts of mine. i would go to my two classes, and go straight back home. gone were the days of meeting up with my friends for a cigarette at our secret smoking place, grabbing a pint at our favourite pub, sneaking into the gallery i used to work at to get high and party. instead, these new places and activites were being done by a new era of students. and i felt like a has-been, watching them enjoy themselves while i sat on the outskirts.

i would spend my days off at home, smoking cigarette after cigarette in my bathroom, trying to grasp the feeling of deviance that started my habit in the first place. instead i felt like an addict, ashamed and cowardly.

i remember spending my birthday at home alone, drunk before 12, demolishing a pack of cigarettes before 2, and irritated and lonely by the end of the night. it was my 22nd birthday but i felt like i was 12.

my friends were busy with their 9-5′s. so busy that we didn’t even have a proper celebration of my birthday as we did in past years. our friday hangouts would be spent at someones house, talking shit and maybe a glass of wine before heading home before midnight. date nights with L became just sitting in his basement, smoking a spliff and watching the office while having lacklustre sex.

however, despite my frustration, and despite wanting to flee, it was my last desire to find new friends, or to leave my boyfriend. i was perfectly content with waiting patiently for everybody to return into the swing of things. i convinced myself that they weren’t off kilter, it was just me with too much time on my hands. i felt secure on my island, as lonely and as unwelcome as i felt.

the week L broke up with me, seemed to happen in the eye of (unbeknowst to me) a transformative storm. i know i wrote about it in my last entry, that feeling of being completely sideswept and being thrown off my path. looking back, it was the catalyst of the storm i needed to go through, to truly transform.

when it happened, i was approaching the final days of my undergraduate degree. i had my graduation photos set up to be taken on the final day i was expected to be on campus, i even had a cosmetic procedure for my teeth lined up as well. i was excited to do all of these things, and spend my holidays with him, before having reality sink in. i was excited to embark on my new era with him.

instead i was dumped.

the reality didn’t sink in, it slapped me across the face.

the gravity of the situation dumbfounded me at first. it was like i knew i was falling, but didn’t realize i would be crashing onto the ground in that instant.

when we sat down in his car, choking on our own tears, lamenting a relationship i had no idea was going to end that night, it felt like i was getting a limb severed without any anesthetic. my mind couldn’t process why things were ending. sure, my happiness and my confidence in him had been in a state of decline since the summer, but i didn’t see it as the end. i saw it as a speed bump in what was to be a long and fruitful relationship. i couldn’t understand how or why he was so willing and so ready to throw the towel into something he has worked to maintain for over a year. it made me feel like dirt, as if there was nothing about me worth fighting for. that he wasn’t willing or wasn’t able to see a future in me the same way i was willing to. it made me bitter, thinking about how incapable i was of maintaining a long-term relationship. how could people be with someone for years, yet i have yet to find someone who is willing to do that with me. it hurt my spirit, it weighed heavy on my soul.

i wasn’t okay for a while after that happened. i spent the remainder of the month in bed, crying myself to sleep, isolating myself from my friends, seeking out any kind of distraction to keep me from thinking about him. i drank a lot, smoked a lot, and found myself getting high at any opportunity. my friends were at least, a bit more supportive during this time, which i am eternally grateful for.

a few days after things ended, i took myself to get my graduation photos done, feeling absolutely numbed by the recent events to even feel excited about the prospect of finishing my undergraduate degree. all i wanted to do was to crawl into a hole and sleep.

i cut my hair, and went through with my dental procedure in hopes to try and boost my self confidence. and to a degree, it worked, but i still struggled with who i was and who i will become.

i would look in the mirror, sometimes for hours, and not recognize myself. alone, i had to have the brutal realization that those feelings of frustrations i felt in the months prior was my ego screaming for help. screaming for a chance to be reclaimed, instead of being dissolved into another person, place, or thing. i wasn’t longing for my past because of its chaos, because during those times, despite the events that took place, i was my own person, who acted upon my own accord.

i realized that perhaps i needed to sever the limb that was my relationship, to save the whole body.

December

the month of december was spent mostly feeling the laments i did in november. there was nothing in my life at that point to look forward to. without a boyfriend, without friends with as much free time as myself, and with a shitty retail job at the mall, i spent my days in excruciating turmoil. serving people doing their holiday shopping, and going home and spending time with the people who somehow made me feel even more isolated.

i felt even more like a shadow of myself. once upon a time i was cool, i was running an art gallery, i had cool art friends, i had a bustling social life. and now, i am spending my nights alone with my mom, or in my bed, high.

the main difference between the pain i felt in november, as opposed to december, was in how i was processing L leaving me.

in november, i was sad because i couldn’t see it coming. every fibre of my being was constantly going over the reasons why, and deflecting the real issues in our relationship to my own twisted ideals. while in december, i was in pain because i have accepted the end of our relationships, and through acceptance, i was able to finally face the truth of our relationship and find peace with the end. which hurt like a fucker.

me and L were good, L did in fact, love me, but while i was too stuck in the future, L was in the present. We didn’t agree on a lot of things that to be wouldnt have mattered in the future, but in the present, did present a lot of issues. we were on different wavelengths.

i went from missing L, to absolutely detesting his existence. my brain suddenly remembered all the fights i had once glossed over, all of the microaggressions, all of the ways in which he would make me feel incapable, or stupid. all the ways in which he never even touched my expectations, and how i regressed mine to appease him. i was an adventurer, he was happy doing nothing.

followed by the anger, was the slightest hint of relief. despite having my heart broken, i began to realize that this could be the beginning of a new era, free of strings. i could be my own person again.

this realization did come with a fair share of loneliness though. and what was the best way to go about this? of course i downloaded tinder.

once again, i found myself back on this app. even though every single thing that has extended from this app has been fruitless, torturous, and quite frankly, humiliating. but i decided not to dwell on that. i wasn’t looking for anything this time around. i just wanted to pass the time, and feel wanted again.

so began the endless hours spent scrolling, swiping, and half assed conversations. gone were the days of chaotic chasing, and sweet nothings. this time around, the circuit felt cruel to me. i felt like a girl back on the streets, looking for a john. it made me feel stupid and worthless, talking to people knowing that nothing good will come out of it, yet here i was. nobody caught my attention.

then i matched with a guy, who i will call R.

R, in the grand scheme of things, is nothing but a footnote in my life, yet i feel the need to write about him. He was cute, with thick curly hair, a wide smile, and thick framed glasses. we hit it off well, and we decided to meet up on a snowy december afternoon.

i felt so ashamed that i didn’t even tell my friends that i was meeting him. to be quite honest, i was fine with just texting him until he faded into oblivion, but the loneliness i felt mixed in with the desire to be the whacky person i was when i was single propelled me forward.

i met him downtown, we went for coffee, then ate dinner. it was a nice date, and when he kissed me i felt my desirability kick back. he was a fun guy to be around and to talk to, and the fact that we would never start dating made me feel good.

then, i stupidly decided to hook up with him. which is something i should have never done.

i got off work early one day, and took the subway to the edge of the city, where i met him. we rode the bus to his, which was a long 40 minute stretch and then walked another 20 minutes to his. the entire time i kept thinking to myself, how the hell am i gonna get home? but my feet continued to carry me.

the sex was decent. he was more well endowed than my ex, and had more finesse then him, but the sex was awkward. after he finished (on my face), i awkwardly slid my clothes back on and started counting down the minutes until i felt my welcome was overstayed.

i never regretted something so much. i felt like a whore, and a stupid one at that.

we fucked at 5, by 7:00 i was calling the $50 uber home. an uber he didn’t even offer to pay for.

he kissed me goodbye, and told me we would make plans sometime after christmas. he never texted me again. and i wasn’t shocked or sad that it happened. but i was angry.

i spent the rest of the christmas holidays alone, and simmering in my contempt for the world and everything around me. i took advantage of all the booze and food around me and gorged until i hated myself.

it was depressing, yet a sort of necessary depression to start making things get better.

january

after the holidays, i continued to feel lost. and i continued to go about it in the wrong ways.

undeterred by the events that happened with R, i continued to go out on dates with people i had no intention of ever seeing. half of the time i felt forced by my own kindness, as to not lead people on, and on the other half, i went out with these people out of pure boredom.

i’ll briefly summarize the experiences.

A.S

i met with A.S shortly after the new year began. he wasn’t somebody i found extremely attractive, but he was eager. so eager, that i basically decided to see him because he wouldn’t shut up about it and i didn’t have the heart to say no.

he was only attractive in certain ways. he was tall and lanky, but his face looked like a child’s. it was odd watching him smoke a cigarette and it was even harder to take him seriously while flirting.

everything about him was pleasant. he picked me up and took me to a cute little bar called wallflower. we sat there for an hour and over a drink had fun talking and doing light flirting. we smoked a cigarette and then he drove me home.

he was fun to be around, but i didn’t find him attractive in the least bit. i didn’t enjoy kissing him at all. however, his eagerness led to a couple of more dates, which i enjoyed because it allowed me to get out of the house for some fresh air. he took me thrifting, magazine shopping (for my art), and to a museum.

i had to stop things however, when he asked me if i wanted to be his girlfriend. i didn’t have the heart anymore to continue with the charade. it made me feel so guilty but in general i was happy i was the one letting someone down. it was like i was ending a cycle.

A.L

A.L was my first dip into seeing a woman romantically.

up until this point, i have restricted myself to only seeing men, despite always having a physical and an emotional attraction to women that par with men. i decided that being single and all, i should at least try to see a woman, just to reaffirm my feelings and validate that they are in fact real and not some trepid wish.

A.L was extremely attractive. to the point where i thought that she was a fluke. we got along like gangbusters, which made flirting really hard. like myself, she was also beginning to toe the waters of seeing other women.

she was assertive, and played hard ball which i also really enjoyed. she had all the qualities i found attractive in a man in the body of someone i have always wanted.

yet, our dates were awkward. it felt more like two friends hanging out. after two outings we never spoke about a third time. despite all of this though, if the opportunity comes up again i would love to see her. even if its platonic.

E.C

E.C was a mistake through and through.

i matched with him on tinder soley because of his resemblance to L. i thought it was funny. i had a sick fantasy of going out with him and breaking his heart, just like he did me. obviously with no intentions of making it happen.

he was simple, and a bit too naive, but once again i was guilted into going on a date with him. he took me out for sushi, and when he got the bill, complained it was too expensive. at that point i was turned off.

he felt me up once, and it made my skin crawl. he forced me to give him long passionate kisses, which brought me to gag.

he smacked my ass in public once, and after that i disregarded him.

i tried to use these people to give myself a higher regard, to give myself experiences, and perhaps a new gang to run with, and all three of them came up short, leaving me feeling worse than i had started off.

i spent a few days lamenting my actions, the shallowness of them. i tried to suppress my guilt like i did before, drinking, boozing, getting high, and nothing made me feel better, it just made me feel closer with the grotesque figure i saw in the mirror. it frightened me.

february

february i decided to take how i felt head on. i started filling my days with nurturing activities. i started actually making art instead of talking about it. i began to take care of my body instead of punishing it. i finally got myself a gym membership, and instead of taking it as an opportunity to walk down the dark path of past, i used it as a tool of empowerment. i even applied to college, to complete a certificate program. and land me a job.

it felt liberating, spending my days focusing on myself, instead of seeking something to make me feel like the person i wanted to seem to be. spending an hour at the gym felt infinitely better than spending it at home. working up a sweat took my focus off the ails and on the goods.

february was when i met P. another tinder match.

i matched with P on a sunday afternoon. i was bored. yes im a hypocrite.

he was attractive to me, but in a way i never saw it coming into fruition. he was stocky, with a mound of curly black hair, and a snaggle tooth smile. i engaged in conversation with him, knowing nothing will come out of it. because in his words, he’ll be running away to another country in march. spain to be exact.

nevertheless, we continued to talk to each other. unlike the others, our conversations bounced effortlessly, and unlike E.C especially, he was nothing like L. he exuded confidence, swagger, and masculinity.

after a week, we both decided that we have to see each other. and even though i eagerly agreed to see him, a nervous pit grew in my stomach. here i was again, throwing myself at a person hoping i will stick. i felt guilty, scared, and most of all, tired. but going out and trying was a better option than sitting at home with my sister and her insufferable boyfriend.

he picked me up in a red sports car, and we smoked a cigarette before driving off. the date itself wasnt anything grand, we went to a diner and had an old school dinner. but it was everything else that allured me to him. it was like we were cut from the same cloth.

we found out we grew up on the same street, we knew the same people, we have always been in each others orbits. once again, his presence distancing myself from the ile i was once on with L, onto new and exciting waters.

we continued to see each other regularly after that. even though the voice in the back of my head continued to nag me to not see him. to not get too attached. to be aware and conscious that he will be leaving in a few weeks.

i tried not to let the fact that he will be leaving soon dissuade me. in fact, i found comfort in the idea that i could play with this fire, and that there was virtue in being burned would serve me. he would give me the good time i crave, and leave me to continue to focus on myself. i thought about how his physical disappearance would motivate me, or give me something new to linger about instead of my past experiences. this would give me some true longing, something to really look forward to.

our dates were always fun and different. we would check out different bars, or try an activity like skating or playing pool. he was fun to be around and i liked how going out with him felt like an actual date, not just hanging out like me and L used to do.

i was still scared, and extremely conscious not to do or say anything that exposed my developing feelings for him. not now not yet. i immediately began to feel guilt whenever i thought about him. i thought about L, not in the sense of him, but our relationship. i thought about how happy he made me, and also how terrible and awful he made me feel at times. i thought about how stifled i felt near the end, and i thought about the pain he put me through. the excruciating pain of seeing something beautiful crumble. i also thought about P, about he is on track to leave the country and lead a new life in a new country. i thought about how my feelings embarass him, or even worse, follow him to Spain, while he meets new people, new girls, etc.

then there was the coronavirus. this emerging panic.

i would watch the news, seeing different countries getting affected in the thousands per day. it would terrify me and occupy my every thought. and suddenly, it began to intercept with P, what this new virus could hold for our relationship.

march

admist the growing worry over coronavirus grew, ten the unexpected happen, he invited me to meet his friends.

i was extremely flattered, terrified, and weary.

last group of people i met were L’s friends. and they were just the worst type of friend group to ever exist. It was as if i didn’t exist to them, that i could truly never be their friends, because i didnt grow up with them. i sat through many a party holding my elbows, trying to talk and in general, just trying to relate to the people around me. it was awful.

they were all spoiled, simple kids that grew up in the suburbs. and just like the developed residential area they grew up in they were basic, boring, plain.

i was scared of the same thing happening with P. walking in there, always feeling like a plus one.

But thankfully, and graciously, it was the exact opposite.

his friends felt like my friends the second i walked into his best-friends home, a quaint victorian style row house in midtown. i walked in there, shyly clutching a bottle of wine to the sound of everyone going “MONICA’S HERE??”

and thats where i met his friend group. as lively, cultured, and fun as P himself. It didn’t take long to get me acquainted with his friends, while we spent the night playing games, and drinking.

in the moment, it felt bittersweet. it was sweet because the way his friends treated me cemented the truth about his feelings for me. he liked me, just the same way i liked him. if i was a nobody girl to him i wouldn’t even be in the room, let alone, would i be treated so warmly by his friends.

but in a way, i felt our expiry date more than ever. here i was, with someone who i genuinely enjoy being with amongst people i have just met yet adore, and its fleeting from my fingertips as it was happening. i couldnt help but feel pangs of anger and jealously whenever the words Spain, Barcelona, or Europe, were muttered. i couldn’t help but jealous when they talked about their plans for when they all travel to spain to meet him. once again i became an outcast in a group. too late to join to enjoy the fun.

I found out that night he will be gone by March 23rd. it was currently March 5th.

i tried to not let it destroy my night entirely.

the night ended, and as P drove me home i began to toy with the idea of running away to Europe with him. why not? L shut down my every thought of going somewhere remotely far -- hell he didn’t even want to go DOWNTOWN with me. and i have no school obligations to care about. why not travel to europe and live as a vagabond?

“what would you think if i also came to visit you in Spain?” i asked softly

“i think i’d love it” he responded, quick as a whip “in fact, i hope you know you’ll always have a place to sleep if you visit me. always”

i felt my cheeks glow.

“good” i said “i’ll maybe see you in August. you know, when my semester in college is over”

“good” he enthusiastically replied. “and you’re gonna stay with me” he laughed “because youre my girl and i love you”

and when he dropped me off, i knew i really wasn’t a nobody girl. even if the timing was wrong.

after that night i began to let my guard down around him. and despite my fear, he never once made me regret it. he would instead match my affection.

We talked about him leaving a lot after that night too. and even though it made me sad, i couldnt help but feel excited for him. yes the timing sucks but why deny myself a good time with someone i enjoy being with?

and then the lockdown happened.

on March 20th, three days before he was to leave for Spain. a national lockdown was called. no flights in, no flights out.

the coronavirus had finally eclipsed into my life.

and suddenly, the expiration date on our relationship was rendered null. as, everything else in society had when the lockdown was called...

april

and thats my current situation. i’ve been on lockdown now for almost three weeks. and it’s been taking a toll on my mental health, physical health, and emotional well being.

i’ve been spending my days cooped up, sleeping, smoking, and eating my days away. everything that i had to look forward to was cancelled.

my schooling

my brothers wedding

my adventure to spain

at first, i tried to maintain some sort of routine. i continued working out, i tried monitoring my eating a bit more, i tried my hardest to avoid the drugs, the cigarettes. now thats all i do. sleep and eat.

but after a few days, the cabin fever began to sink in. there was no purpose of doing anything if NOTHING is going on. and i hated how much i missed P. we couldnt/cant see each other but we have tried our best to sneak a visit here and there. our dates have gone from adventurous to dangerous. we can’t do much but sit in his car, smoke weed, and talk. it drives me crazy but its all we can do.

i don’t know when this is going to finish, but i feel so thrown off kilter. its as if any sort of progression i have made has been for nothing.

for now, time can really only tell what the rest of the year has in store. it feels so unpredictable.

but thats the tea for now. thanks for reading.

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magical-agatha · 4 years ago

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bro im so fucked in the head its unreal. cptsd off the rails fucking ruining my life. i feel like ive got holes in my head. cant remember shit. cannot function independently. absolutely dependent on my girlfriend. but i hate myself still deep inside so even after more than 2 years of being with her im still terrified she'll leave me. she wont tho. logically i know she wont but my emotional side doesnt.

sometimes i feel like im 12 years old and bluffing. when did i grow up. i dont remember being 12. i dont remember being younger or older than 12. i dont remember high school. i have memories of high school but whos. mine? all my memories fade and bleed and melt together. time is meaningless and as tangible as an oily rope. cant hold onto it cant make sense of it. everything after 6 months is ancient history barely remembered. everything a week ago is only a bit better. no clue what i did yesterday.

i feel like. a tamagotchi. but like the one where u fuck up looking after it so it just turns into a sadder bigger blob thing. in my self hatred i feel pathetic like that. my mom broke me and now im stuck like this. idk how to recover. i want to but how much is possible. physical yes. mental? yes probably but ill always have a worse time mentally than other ppl. ptsd and bpd get better but it takes years and years and it likely will never go away completely.

i wish i lived near ppl. like. i wish i had more than just my gf to see and hear and be in the same place as. i want to live near my friends. and be more significant in their lives. spend time with them irl. lots and lots of time.

im crazy and upset and i hate my brain and i hate being irrational and i hate how detached my emotions are from reality and how detached i am from the past. my emotions get fucked up and scrambled bc i cant remember shit. and they hurt me and. build themselves and rewrite me memory so that what i remember hurts more than what actually happened. and RSD takes a running jump and cannonballs into this mess making it even worse. and somehow i have to communicate to ppl. about my emotions and problems. to ask for help or to resolve stuff.

why is she so nice. shes so patient with me but i cant communicate properly with her so even tho she cares about me infinitely im getting squashed and hurt and RSD and absolutely scrambled.

i hate distance. it makes communication so much harder. communicating is so so hard already. and scary. bc i know i dont remember things right. and ppl have used that in the past to manipulate and hirt me. and im scared of hurting ppl bc i get mixed up. and someone i used to adore, i was in love with them, i thought they were amazing, they hated me and i had no idea. they used my memory against me. gaslit me. convinced me id hurt them and twisted everything to try and make it my fault. more ppl before that did similar stuff.

and now i dont trust myself. i dont believe my own perception and experience bc ive been so thoroughly gaslit and manipulated by ppl with bad intentions. idk how to fix it. bc its like. undeniable that i often dont experience things rationally. my memory and rsd and bpd fuck me up rly hard sometimes. so how can i trust myself.

#hashtag blogging with aggy #dont reblog ploxx

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angelicthor · 5 years ago

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an explanation

ok so since about new year? maybe longer i really can’t remember tbh, i’ve not being doing so well with my mental health - i have depression and its been getting worse over these last few months.

i don’t know whether it was caused by the stress of my final year or just made worse by it or maybe both idk, but it wasn’t an easy year and i nearly ended up failing my final exams because of it. luckily i managed to graduate, god only knows how because i did god awful but anyway it was done!

i graduated in june/july? one of them and then was told by my dad that i had to get a job and move out by the end of august at the latest. i did the math an i would have needed £1k alone in just deposits for a place to rent (spare change i didn’t have) and i’d need a guarantor given the fact that i dont have a credit score and my dad had just lost his job it was next to impossible.

put all this on top of the fact that i was trying to figure out my next move in life career wise and the job market where i currently live is slim to put it mildly. see dad was moving in with his fiance in another city and i was planning on staying where i currently live because i was going to stay on to do a masters course here because whilst there is much to be desired from my city i actually really loved my uni

but anyway, he was moving and i needed to go to - even if i managed to land a job there was no way in hell i could have afforded the house we were living in.

he went behind my back to call my mum who i hadn’t spoken to in 5 years to ask her if i could stay there. i hadn’t spoken to her since roughly a year after she and my dad split - i know the world loves to paint mothers as can do not wrong but its utter horse shit. no one in my life has ever made me feel as god awful as she had. everything was always my fault including dad leaving - i drove him away apparently, it had nothing to do with the fact that she was abusive - she’d come into my room late at night when i was asleep (she has a drinking problem that she will never acknowledge) and just start screaming at me.

at the worst points in our relationship (it had been rocky since i was 12/13 and only got worse as the years went on) i was downright suicidal. but because there was never any physical marks - though i honestly wouldn’t put it past her, the threat of violence has always been there - i kinda of convinced myself that i exaggerated my memories? that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed and that i was as equally responsible as she was. plus i didn’t help that people never believed me, i told so many people, my dad included that she scared me and i was just laughed at and called ridiculous

couple that with the fact that everyone seemed convinced she had changed although no one in my family had spoken to her i agreed to meet her. the first two meetings were ok, the third i caught her slipping into her old habits and the forth she was exactly the same as i remembered her.

unfortunately it was too late, i had to be gone in a week and there really was no where else for me to go. i moved in and no more than a day later i was planning on moving out.

easier said than done but im trying to remain positive because i know its going to be harder than last time, i’m quite literally all alone now, my family have all moved from the area and the few friends i do have all have lives of their own.

the reason updates and general presence is lacking on here, as much as i would love to write i honestly feel like im missing part of myself right now, is because im not allowed. i can’t be in the house during the day so i wake up and do whatever i have to do, washing cleaning typical chores ya know and then i have to be out of the house by 1:30pm because thats when she comes home - i spend the day doing pointless stuff because i have to just not be there (which doesn’t help when you need to apply for jobs) and when i get in im not allowed to do my own thing i.e. write, i have to sit with her and do whatever shes doing regardless of whether i like it or not. i honestly feel more like a lap dog than a person at this point ya know? like i dread coming home and i prepare myself for this personna that i have to put on in order to please her and im honestly so tired from it all.

and the kicker is that im doing all this and it still isn’t enough to please her, im spending too much time at home (still?) and at the same time too much time out of the house, she doesn’t like my friends, or my clothes or my hair, or all of my interests are childish and stupid, shes made at me for not wanting a job that pays ridiculous amounts, she hates the fact that i don’t like expensive things because all she cares about it image but i refuse to break myself apart and mold myself into someone new to please someone that i honestly don’t even think is a nice person.

i can’t afford to move out before the new year now but i have job interviews lined up (fingers and toes all crossed) and i’m hoping to try and fine a new job out of the area and somewhere new in the new year, there really is nothing left for me here and i am in desperate need of a fresh start.

so yeah this is it, definitely not where i saw myself at 22 - honestly in shock im right back in the one place in my life i never wanted to return to - but im staying hopeful, one day im gonna look back and be able to say that i got myself through this, i just have to hold out.

#tw suicide mention #tw depression mention #tw abusive relationship #chels.txt #if this needs any more tags to blacklist please let me know <3

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ldols-blog1 · 5 years ago

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12/31/19 so 2020 is almost here, a resolution i had was to journal more, and a good friend of mine convinced me to rejoin tumblr. all those married together and here i aaaaam

im hoping the new year and the new decade brings a lot of travel and financially stability for me and you know maybe a new love if the universe thinks so. i have a shit ton of resolutions i want to do and i’m honestly pretty sure i can stick to them all - read at least one book a month - only eat cheese on the weekend - journal (obvi) - write letters. theres something classic and nostalgic about letters - learn a language - travel / move out of state id really start to write again but im really bad at holding myself accountable. i typically have weekends free for my own time so maybe ill have a day of home/rest and a day of spending time at a coffee shop reading/writing. i’ve already read a couple books this past week and i honestly forgot how fun reading could be. i dunno how to say this, but ill try my best. i think theres something almost romantic about being alone but not feeling alone. like ive been rereading the harry potter books just for funsies and when i read about any of the characters just spending time alone walking the castle by themselves or studying in the library or just looking at the sky fantasizing about something i find that really nice. 2020 is the year of romanticizing alone time im calling it now

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tori-cilia · 6 years ago

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Hey there

Everything I will say is 100% true. I’ve lived it all unfortunately.

So to start us off I guess I should tell you a bit about myself. My names Tori and I just turned 17 this year, I ended up switching to online school in the 10th grade and im now in 11th grade however im a few years back due to certain events that I will explain later. I have 8 siblings while my older 3 siblings were the ones that raised me. My parents were divorced before I was born so I was just thrown into the shit show I call my life, so its all ive really known. I simply want people who have experienced the same things I have to know that they are not alone and that someone understands them.

So lets start with my parents. My mom and dad met in California, now I have no idea why they were there but I do know its because they were both in the service at the time. My mom served in the navy and my dad was in the marines. my dad was in war at some point in time and my mother was lucky enough to not have to endure that. while they were in California they had my eldest sister who was born there, they both were honorably discharged and they moved to Michigan where my dad had grown up (my mom was born and raised in New York). about 2 or 3 years later my oldest brother was born and following him came my only other older sister. these three were the only ones out of the first 4 to be alive when our parents were together. I was told stories about how bad it was, my parents would constantly fight and beat on eachother. While my dad was out at bars and strip clubs after work my mother would be home drugged out and drunk and would be passed out on the couch. my siblings took care of eachother and luckily our grandparents(my dads parents) lived across the street, where they still live. Ive been told my mother would lock my siblings in their rooms while she would go and do drugs and my dad would be out cheating on my mom or getting drunk. My brother would run down the street in nothing but a dirty diaper until my grandparents would get him or the neighbors would bring him to my mom. in the middle of 2001 my mom told my dad she was pregnant in an attempt to trap him in their marriage, but clearly it didn't work. he was done with her at that point and had found someone else who would be my evil step mother for the next 9 years of my life. in april of 2002 I was born. my mom had kept me away from my dad and his side of my family for one year and the judges couldn't do anything about it since she was breast feeding me. my oldest sister told me I would always cry until my mom fed me.( she thinks its because I was going through withdrawls since my mom did drugs with me while she was pregnant). when I was 2 my mom had remarried to the biggest asshole prick I will ever meet in my entire life while my dad was married to the biggest slut and bitch that will ever exsist. so for the next few years of my life it mostly was made up of custody battles between my mom and dad with my step parents only making mine and my siblings lives worse. my mom had given birth to 4 more children who I love with all of my heart. I had moved a lot since I was born. I went from st,clair shores to Wyandotte then to taylor and that was just with my dad. I had gone to the same school until 5th grade, my step mother had forced my dad to take me out of the only place I knew that made me happy and that was eureka heights elementary school. I loved that school, its where my love for learning began. I had friends and the teachers knew me because of my siblings and the counselors already knew my home situation. I was outgoing and happy there. they moved me to blair moody in the 5th grade and I will never understand why my dad let that happen. I hated it there, I missed my teachers and I missed my friends. towards the middle of the school year my mom had moved us to grosse ile which I hated even more. its a very lonely island, the kids always thought they were better than me and made me feel horrible about myself. I started and finished middle school in grosse ile. When I was around 9 my step mom had cheated on my dad and they got divorced. she had multiple affairs throughout their marriage and eventually got pregnant one time. she told my dad it was his then aborted it and told him she had a miscarriage. later she got pregnant and this time it really was my dads but we found out later that it was a pitty baby. anyways she had given birth to my beautiful baby sister, the only good thing that came out of their marriage. after they got divorced my dad slipped into a deep depression and disappeared out of my life. for years my mom had told me it was because he didn't love me and didn't want me. I felt I would never be good enough for anyone because if my own dad didn't want me why would anyone else. My oldest sister had left my moms at 14 by telling the cops she would kill herself if she was forced to go back. my brother had just run away and never came back to my moms when he was 16. my other sister left my moms at 16 because my stepdad said we weren't allowed to see our brother anymore and i ended up having to raise my 4 younger siblings. but they all left for the same reason... they were tired of my moms bullshit, they were tired of seeing her get beat and every time we put my stepdad in jail for it she would bail him out. I watched my mom get beat up every single night for 15 years. during the 7th grade I began failing my classes and I wouldn't go to school everyday, I would bargain with my mom to let me stay home. I was diagnosed with extreme to severe depression when I was 12...that was also the year I watched my mom get taken out on a gurney while she was shaking and crying, begging for my step dad to not hurt her. I couldn't get out of bed, I wouldn't eat, I slept too much or too little. I didn't talk to anyone. I stayed in this little world in my head where things were perfect. in the 8th grade I moved to trenton with my mom. I started high school in Trenton and I made friends on orientation day for the first time in years they even convinced me to go to the homecoming game where I met my first boyfriend. that night we hit it off, we talked for hours and he stayed by my side all night and he even walked me home. he said I was beautiful and that he liked my natural hair which is curly and out of control. when I got home we started texting. we talked everyday and he eventually asked me out and I of course said yes. by then my dad had been out of my life for 5 years and my mom would never let me forget it. she told me that he wanted her to abort me and the moment she old me that everything inside me died. I hated myself. I told her I wish she did abort me. I was so depressed and full of anxiety. I was with my boyfriend for 4 months and it ended in march because of me. I had broke up with him because I met someone else. it was my little sisters birthday party and my moms friends had come with their children. I seen 2 walk in and I didn't pay no mind to them but then one boy came in..he clearly didn't want to be there. I actually had to do a double take. he followed me like a puppy that night and I would take quick glances at him. when they were about to leave he ran into my house and asked me for my snapchat and I gave it to him. we talked all night..and that was also the night I broke up with my boyfriend and it is now the one thing I will always regret. this new guys name was cj, he was dreamy and knew just the right things to say. I seen him again on his birthday that was the day we started dating. he was my first love. everything was great at first. my mom and step dad would go out with his parents and party so I would be at his house with him and my siblings and I would watch the kids and spend time with him. he showed me the love I didn't get from my dad or my mom. by this time I had stopped going to school. I was too tired from taking care of my siblings all night and then getting woken up at 3 or 4 am bc the parents were arguing and the kids were crying hysterically. I would get everything calmed down and stay awake for the rest of the night because I was too scared to fall back asleep. at the end of the school year we moved to garden city. we had been evicted from yet another house, I learned to not get too attached to places or people and for me...I didn't have a home. me and cj had been together for 2 months around this time. he helped me move into the new house and he came over every day since he lived 5 minutes away from me. I lost my virginity to him. in july I had finally left my moms when I was 15. something in me had snapped that night. my cousin didn't know who I was because my mom never let me see my dads side of the family. I called my sister because I was going to try to kill myself again. I had a handful of pills and the note on my dresser. my sister drove from grosse ile to garden city and saved my life that night. I packed my things and I left as fast as I could. I told my younger siblings that I loved them and that it wasn't their fault I was leaving..they were the only reason I stayed as long as I did..seeing them cry as I left that night made my heart break into a million pieces, they were my babies, everything I had done was for them. it was a fight every night I was gone. my mom had called the cops and reported me as a runaway. she said I was an ungrateful child. cj was kinda by my side. he didn't understand my situation. he didn't understand the hurt I was going through. I moved in with my brother a few weeks after I moved out. sometime in july cj had broken up with me. he said my family had caused too much drama and he couldn't do it anymore. the very next morning my mom came with the cops to come and get me. my entire world was falling apart around me. I was too emotionally and mentally drained to even fight it. my brother had been out of town on business so it was just me and his girlfriend. the cops told me I was just a kid who didn't like the rules and I had no reason to leave my moms. I was trying to tell them what happened at my moms but my mom kept denying it. so I gave up and just left with her. I got hack to her house and my room was used as a storage unit for them and I had to clean it by myself. I didn't want to do anything. I wanted to stay in bad and sleep and wait for cj to come back. I thought maybe it was just a dream and I would wake up and id be at my brothers but it never happened. my mom and her best friend at the time would tell me I was stupid for leaving. they made me feel bad about myself everyday. I told my mom I had lost my virginity to cj and she called me cheap for giving it up to him. I got enrolled into garden city highschool. I went the first day and never showed up again. I lied to my mom and told her I was walking to school but I would leave for an hour then walk back and climb into bed and hide under the covers...she slept the whole time so she had no idea anyways. her friend had seen what it was like for me there and ended up getting me out of there. my mom raised hell when I left again. she hated me. I hated her....the night I left was the first time I had seen cj since we had broken up 4 months ago. and with my luck Nicole (my moms friend who had gotten me out of my moms) was dating cjs dad. I celebrated my 16th birthday with my dads side of the family. my siblings, my grandparents and my dad. after 7 years of not seeing him I seen him again only a month before my 16th birthday, one night my dad TEXTED me and told me him and my now step mother we’re engaged. everyone knew except me and I had to find out over text. I froze..i couldn't say anything and I just burst into tears. I was angry and I was hurt. my dad had put his girlfriends before me for years and now he was engaged. I called him and went off. I told him how him leaving effected me. how I couldn't trust anyone because of him...that night I made my dad cry..and I couldn't stop because it was his turn to feel what I felt. while I lived with Nicole I had found out my sister was pregnant. it was one of the happiest days of my life. I will always remember how I felt that day... I had also dated cj a few more times and each time he would break up with me after a few weeks. he would get me high and have sex with me and then he would leave me. I felt I was only good enough for a quick fuck. me, Nicole and her two kids moved in with her boyfriend and my ex. which only made things worse for me. we dated one final time. mine and nicoles relationship slowly deteriorated and we got into an argument and she kicked me out. I went to my grandparents cottage for a week and never heard from Nicole again. cj broke up with me again for the final time. he had cheated on me for the final time. he had broken my heart for the final time. I moved in with my dad and he went and stayed at his wifes moms house with her and her daughter while I lived alone with my sisters cats. I drank and got high every night to try to avoid the things in my mind. October 1st my niece was born. and the same day I got evicted from the place I was staying at since my dad wasn't paying the bills. so I moved in with my grandparents. I continued to smoke and eventually got caught and got kicked out. I felt terrible. I moved in with my dad and only 2 months later we got kicked out because him and his wife were acting like idiots. I got pissed off at my dad because he had let me down again. I called me sister (the same one who picked me up from my moms) and I lived with her foe a couple months. it was great, I got to see my niece everyday. I was in a really good place mentally and emotionally. I was on my meds and I was doing my online school which I was put into during the 10th grade. I celebrated my 17th birthday with my sister and brother. she got me cake and some painting stuff. now I live with my dad and here we are. I am still very depressed. im not currently on my medications due to money problems and I cant afford it. me and my dad are working on our relationship, me and my step mom are close kinda, I love my niece who is now 7 months, me and my mom are on good terms and she even threw me a birthday party. ive come a long way. and even if no one else is proud of me...I am. Don't get me wrong I still have things I need to work on but im getting there. and my siblings and grandparents have been here for me through every step. I love them and couldn't be more thankful. last year around this time if you asked me where I think I would be right now...I would say dead..but 7 months ago my beautiful niece gave me one more reason to keep fighting all the bullshit.

there is no way for me to be able to fully describe how my life has been..this is just the quick version.

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notsoguiltykpop · 7 years ago

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The Tenth Floor pt19

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader & Taehyung x Reader

Min Yoongi had gone through 34 secretaries in the past 24 months, and each one of them left in tears. This fact alone should have warned you against taking the job, but the pay was too good to pass up. Surely you could put up with a billionaires temper-tantrums, right?

Genre: Fluff, humor, probably some angst. Borderline crack at times

Warnings: Strong language, smut talked about/implied, some dark themes

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

Jungkook looked slightly ill when he left Yoongi’s office. When you raised an eyebrow in question, he shook his head and closed his eyes.

“How do you do it?” He asked, walking around to sit on your desk, crumpling the papers that you’d only just finished sorting.

“Do what?” You asked, swatting at him to get up. He moved with an apologetic glance, instead standing somewhat awkwardly beside you with his arms crossed.

“Yell at him. The guy’s crazy, you know that right? But that never stops you from telling him off,” Jungkook explained, eyeing Yoongi’s door. “Don’t tell him I said this, but he kind of scares me.”

You couldn’t help a slight laugh, despite your dismal mood. “Yoongi’s all talk, Jungkook,” You tried to smooth out the papers Jungkook crushed, and finally decided you’d just have to print out new ones. “He isn’t all that different from you, really. You both put up fronts to protect yourselves, neither of you are particularly organized, and you’re both a bit strange.”

“I don’t know whether or not to be offended by that,” Jungkook sighed, beginning to walk away from your desk backwards.

You rolled your eyes, ready to get back to work in the hopes of keeping your mind off the fact that you didn’t have the money to pay off your car.

Your phone buzzed with a text the moment you were alone, and you grabbed it faster than you usually would have. You still hadn’t heard from Jessica since the previous night, and you were worried that whatever progress the two of you might have made was lost. When you saw her name at the top of your phone, you didn’t even bother to read the preview, just tapped on it.

“You still have my dress.” Was the five word text you received.

Biting back disappointment, you told yourself that this was still a good sign. Jessica had finally texted you something, and that had to count.

“Hard at work, I see,” A teasing voice interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up to see Changkyun standing in front of your desk with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his lips.

You blinked at him, trying to remember what he was doing there. How you’d forgotten about the previous nights conversation was a mystery even to yourself, but it came back to you as you shoved your phone out of sight.

“Changkyun, how are you this morning?” You asked, forcing a smile. It wasn’t that you minded seeing him so much as were trying to think of a way to tell Yoongi that you’d completely forgotten to mention that you set up an appointment for him with the shareholder he was doing his best to avoid.

“Decent,” He shrugged. “Is Yoongi in his office?”

You hesitated for a moment. “He is, but he was in the middle of something important. Let me go tell him you’re here.”

You didn’t wait for a response, hopping up and hurrying into his office. Yoongi was not doing anything that looked important at all--in fact, he appeared to be sleeping. He was leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk and one arm flung over his eyes.

“Yoongi?” You tried.

“Normal secretaries use the intercom system,” He sighed. “I’m really starting to hate how you just barge in here whenever you feel like it.”

“Then I guess normal secretaries,” You said, folding your arms. “Don’t need to talk to you in private before sending people in.”

Yoongi groaned, sitting up and blinking blearily at you. “Who is it this time?”

“Im Changkyun,” You figured there was no use beating around the bush, he’d find out sooner or later, and it would be better for him to get mad at you instead of the shareholder.

“Tell him to go away.” Yoongi glared at you. “I’m not in the mood to deal with that lunatic.”

“I’ll tell him to come in,” You said anyway, and were about to step out when Yoongi stood up and walked over to face you.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves,” He said.

“So fire me,” You shrugged. At this point, you didn’t feel like you had anything to lose.

Yoongi said nothing to that, instead pretending you hadn’t said anything and making his way over to the window. You made a face at his turned back; he was so over-dramatic.

“Send him in,” Yoongi muttered reluctantly. “But if he stays for more than an hour, make up some excuse to get me out of here.”

After Changkyun left, Yoongi thought he would finally get some peace and quiet. The hope was dashed as the door was thrown open again, and Yoongi was about to finally lose his temper and tell you to stop fucking doing that, but when he looked up it wasn’t your pretty eyes he was met with.

“How’s it going between the two of you?” Taehyung asked, scrolling through his phone rather than look at Yoongi as he took a seat.

“Who?” Yoongi sighed, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He’d had a headache all day and seeing Taehyung was only making it worse.

“You and Y/n, duh.” Taehyung snorted.

“Terrible.” Yoongi deadpanned. “In fact, if you want to get more specific than that, it isn’t “going” at all. She made it very clear she wants nothing to do with me, and I think it’s time I respected that.” Jungkook’s words, while unwanted, stuck with Yoongi more than he cared to admit. He had a point, whether Yoongi liked it or not.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, putting his phone away. “So even after all I did, you still managed to screw things up?”

Yoongi let out a bark of a laugh. “You say that like you tried to help me.”

“I did,” Taehyung made a face. When Yoongi didn’t look convinced, he sighed dramatically. “Oh, come on. Are you really that dumb? I painted myself as the bad-guy to make you look better, and even made up that stupid lie about my house getting robbed so you’d have to drive her home--you do know I don’t own a house anymore, right?”

Yoongi stared at Taehyung as his words sunk in. “You what?”

“Seriously, your neighbor said you spent an entire weekend away from home, you were at her house, weren’t you?”

Yoongi blinked slowly. “Why were you talking to my neighbor?”

Taehyung dismissed Yoongi’s question entirely, waving a hand. “Unimportant. What is important is how you possibly managed to go from spending a weekend together to...whatever it is happening now.”

“Quit acting like you’re on my side, it’s weird,” Yoongi grumbled, looking back at the spreadsheet he was supposed to be reviewing.

“I’m not acting,” Taehyung said, pulling the paper off of Yoongi’s desk so he could look at it himself. “I think it’s time we put our differences aside and attempted to get along, don’t you?”

Yoongi scoffed, snatching the spreadsheet back. “Why?”

“We’re nearly thirty, for one thing. It was one thing when we were in our teens, but now it’s a little embarrassing, right?” Yoongi didn’t have anything to say to that. “Do you really want to still be fighting when we’re in our sixties--or older? Aren’t we better people than that, Yoongi?”

It was convincing, Yoongi gave him that. Taehyung met his eyes evenly and even pouted a little. “What do you want, Taehyung?”

Taehyung switched back to his usual demeanor in an instant when Yoongi didn’t take the bait, grinning widely as he sat back in his chair.

“It was worth a try,” He chuckled, twirling a pencil idly. Yoongi nodded and waived a hand for him to continue. “I want a job here. A real one.”

Yoongi laughed. “No, seriously. What do you want?”

“I just told you,” Taehyung’s smile faded. “Give me a job working for you, preferably one that pays well.”

“And I would do that because...?” Yoongi prompted.

“It would make both of your parents happy to see us working together and getting along,” Taehyung said simply. When Yoongi gave him an “are you kidding me” look, he sighed. “Look, I need a regular job to get custody. The courts don’t care how much is in my bank account, only that I’m a stable parent. Don’t do it for me, do it for Zoe. Do it for your niece, Yoongi.”

“That’s low, Taehyung,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Even for you.”

“I know you and I have our issues, but do you really think Mia is a fit parent?” Taehyung continued, completely unphased. “I’m not asking for the company, Yoongi. I’m asking you to give me some desk job until I’ve secured custody.”

Yoongi grimaced. He was just starting to think that Taehyung would leave soon. “I can’t just give you a job because we’re... family,” The word still felt strange to say even after so long. “But you can apply, just like everyone else. Give Namjoon your resume, and I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Wouldn’t that just mean talking to yourself?” Taehyung snorted, and Yoongi couldn’t help but halfheartedly throw a crumpled piece of paper at him.

“Get out of my office before I change my mind.”

The more you thought about it, the less you thought Jimin was actually at fault, and it was starting to bother you. It seemed pretty clear that Jimin wasn’t informed that you were getting any of the money, in which case Seokjin should’ve been the one to suffer. But when you asked around during lunch, everyone said that Jimin was always good for his money--apparently he’d lost a lot of bets, some of which for quite a bit more than what he bet against you.

That left Seokjin, but he didn’t quite make sense either. He’d always treated you decently, even if he was a little annoying. He was the one who offered you the money, so why would he give you counterfeit?

You went over the day several times in your mind while you ate, and every time it lead you back to the same unpleasant train of thought; Jungkook could, potentially, be behind it. He was the one who said Seokjin should give you the money, and you left him alone with it to tell Yoongi that Vanessa was there.

You hated to think that he could have planned it all along, and that he might have been internally laughing at you the whole day, knowing that you bought a car with counterfeit.

Jungkook wasn’t that kind of person. He was the only half-way decent coworker you had, and he had gone out of his way to help you numerous times. He didn’t have any logical motive, anyway.

Then again, Jessica’s impression of him wasn’t good, and he had more enemies on the tenth floor than he had friends. There had to be a reason for that. He didn’t seem anything like what others thought of him, but you’d only known him for a month. And was is even possible for him to change this drastically in such a short amount of time?

You muttered a curse under your breath as you ran a hand down your face. Jungkook was your friend, wasn’t he? So why were you even entertaining the thought that he could do this to you?

Distracted, you ran headfirst into Jimin in the hall on your way back from lunch.

“Sorry, Jimin,” You mumbled, and he gave you an exasperated look.

“Whatever,” He said, and was about to continue away from you when you caught his arm.

“No, wait. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Why? So you can accuse me of something else?” Jimin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No--I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” You said, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly. You’d made quite a scene earlier without any proof, and no matter what Jimin had said to you in the past, he deserved the benefit of a doubt. “And I’m sorry.”

Jimin looked slightly amused at this. “Yeah, well. As long as you know you were wrong.”

The irritation at him you thought you’d put on hold rose up faster than you thought possible. “And what about you? You think all the horrible, unwarranted things you’ve said to me over the last month were right?”

The smirk dropped from his face. “Whatever. Let’s call it even.” He muttered, shoving past you. It wasn’t an apology, but was better than nothing.

A/N It’s a short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed! I finally just decided to scrap what I wrote before and start over. To everyone who has sent me messages/chats, I’m really sorry I haven’t been keeping up with them. I haven’t had wifi for over a week now, so while I can write, it’s hard to reply. I promise I’ll try to get better about it next week, I should have more time then <3 <3 <3

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