#whom which you wanted to initially kill yourself over in the same way your parents did

[some-pers0n]

When the show got the surrealist nightmare episode where the character goes through visceral depictions of their past sins, regrets, and trauma

[arcturusreads]

Hi i dont know if your still accepting prompts but I didn’t want to forget the idea lol no pressure though take your time with this one: Hayes bringing Meredith to Ireland to meet his family and to spend time together just the two of them

Tell Ma I'm Coming Home - Merhayes

I've been shockingly bad at writing lately so I'm sorry that this took so long but I hope this is okay x

“You know, it’s a well-known fact that I don’t do very well when it comes to meeting parents.”

After a 13-hour flight that included a stopover, Cormac had yet to persuade Meredith that his family were going to love her. He’d spoken to both his parents in length about Meredith, mainly due to his Ma’s probing. Initially, they had both just been grateful that Cormac had been willing to open up his heart again. There was never a concern as to how he would handle becoming a single father to two teenage boys. The worry had laid in the thoughts that their only son wouldn’t find someone to share his life with. That his grief over losing Abigail would be all-consuming, not allowing him to understand that he could be happy again.

So, when Cormac had finally told them that he was seeing someone, neither of them could care less who it was at first. Their excitement was purely because their son had eventually understood that finding love again didn’t mean that his love for Abigail would ever diminish and that he deserved to be happy. Over the past few months, they’d gotten to know more about the girl that Cormac had fallen for. She sounded headstrong, confident, stubborn. Everything that Cormac needed.

“Mer, I promise you that I’m not throwing you into the lion’s den. I wouldn’t ever do that to you. So, please trust me when I say that they already love you.”

The two of them were trundling up a stone strewn path. After getting a bus and a taxi from the airport, Cormac had told the taxi driver to drop them off in the middle of a small village, telling Meredith that the walk to his parent's house out on the fields was definitely worth it. After ten minutes she was yet to believe that. It might have been a bit better had they not been dragging their suitcases behind them. Cormac had offered multiple times to take hers but Meredith had stubbornly refused. She could carry her own bags.

When the house eventually came into sight Meredith stopped in her tracks. Her mouth dry. Realising she wasn’t following him anymore, Cormac turned around and walked back to his girlfriend. Placing a hand on her hack, he kissed her cheek.

“Come on, I promise you, my family are just as crazy as yours are.”

He gently pushed her forward with him, knowing that she wouldn’t be willing to move otherwise. It was odd for him to see Meredith like this. The woman that he had fallen in love with was so confident in her work, so headstrong in her life that it was peculiar to see her this anxious about something that he hadn’t thought was that big of a deal.

From outside the door, the pair could already hear booming laughter from inside. The sound of his father’s laughter made an unconscious smile appear on Cormac face. It didn’t matter how long he spent in America, this was always going to feel like home to him. One hand still on Meredith’s back, Cormac opened the door with the other ushering Meredith in first, who hesitantly walked in.

Cormac brought both the bags in, giving her a grin before yelling out, “Ma, Da! We’re here!”

A woman in her mid-30s came rushing out of the living room, her blonde hair falling out of a bun.

“Cormac!” She flung her arms around his neck, making him stagger back a little before he steadying himself and returned the hug,

“Trying to kill me, are ya, Niamh?”

She pulled away, slapping his arm. “Well, maybe if you visited more often then I wouldn’t find the need to.” She stuck her tongue out at him whilst Cormac just rolled his eyes.

Not entirely sure what to do or say, Meredith, stood off awkwardly to the side. She didn’t want to interrupt Cormac’s time with his family. He’d spoken in length to her about his sister Niamh. Whilst the age gap between them was quite large, he had always been close to his sister. Always let her tag along when he would be going to play football with his friends, would spend the entire weekend with her when she was able to convince their parents to let her visit him in uni.

Niamh nudged her brother, nodding over at Meredith so she could be introduced.

“You know you could just introduce yourself. I feel like you might just be old enough now.”

That earned him another punch in the arm. Winching, and rubbing the injury, Cormac decided not to risk any more teasing. “Niamh, this is my girl, Meredith. Meredith, this is my entirely annoying,” he flinched as Niamh went to punch him again, “but extremely talented, baby sister Niamh.”

Grinning Niamh pushed her brother out of the way and went to hug Meredith. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Eventually and awkwardly, Meredith hugged her back. This was definitely a warmer reception than she had had with Derek’s sisters.

“I thought he was going to hide you from us forever. You must be exhausted, come into the living room, Da’s already in there and Ma just ran out for some milk.”

Meredith found herself being dragged off to the living room and when she turned back to her boyfriend, she found him with a huge grin and knowing look on his face. He’d had no doubt that this was going to be the reception she got from his family.

Cormac hadn’t even managed to step foot into the living room before Niamh had begun introductions.

“Da, this is Cormac’s girlfriend, Meredith.”

“it’s a pleasure to meet you, Meredith.” Standing up from a worn-out armchair, Cormac’s father was dressed in a white shirt and a pair of grey trousers.

Meredith took his outstretched hand to shake, “Thank you for letting me stay here, Mr Hayes.”

He gave a hearty chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, you don’t need to call me, Mr Hayes. Rory will do just fine. Come on, take a seat, Ava won’t be too long now.”

As Meredith took a seat next to Niamh on an empty sofa, Rory welcomed his son home. The two shared a long, tight hug. It was clear to see that Rory had missed having Cormac around. The space between visits had been far too long and Rory had left it up to his wife to badger their son to come and visit them but he had missed Cormac more than anyone. Watching the Six Nation hadn’t quite been the same since his son had left.

When the two of them had finally let go of each other Cormac gave a pointed look to Niamh, the same one he had given her when they were kids as he wanted her to move but she wasn’t six years old anymore and happy to listen to her brother.

“Oh, I don’t think so. You two have been dating for months which means that you’ve had her to yourself for months. So, I’m pretty sure you can survive not sitting next to Meredith while Da and I get to know her.”

Cormac looked over at Meredith, hoping that she might support him but instead his girlfriend just smirked at him. “You heard her. There are plenty of seats in this room.”

Shaking his head, Cormac took a seat on the other armchair in the room whilst his father laughed at him. Inside though, he was pleased that Meredith felt comfortable enough to not need him next to her, that she was happy to sit next to his sister. The next ten minutes were spent with Cormac mostly on the outskirts of the conversation as Rory, Niamh and Meredith all got to know each other. Meredith found herself quickly at ease with the pair much to her surprise. That ease soon faded away when she heard the voice of Ava Hayes as she entered the house. This had been the member of the Hayes’ family that Meredith had been most worried to meet.

Cormac had told Meredith of the close relationship that he had with his mother. She had always been his number one supporter: his toughest critic yet his biggest cheerleader. It was Ava whom Cormac had leant on for support when Abigail was first diagnosed, always at the end of the phone whenever he needed her. Whilst she hadn’t agreed with Cormac’s rash move to Switzerland, she had still gone to visit him and the boys after a few months to make sure that they were settled properly.

“Cormac!” A lady of around five feet bustled through the door in a floral white summer dress and coral cardigan, her brunette hair going white at the roots hung around her shoulders.

Cormac immediately got up from his seat and wrapped his mother in a hug. “Ma, I’ve missed you.” He kissed her cheek as they pulled away.

Ava smacked his arm making her son wince, “You wouldn’t have to miss me if you just came to visit more often.”

As he opened his mouth to reply, his mother quickly waved him off. “Don’t bother with the excuses. It’s Meredith that I’m more excited to see.”

“Thank, Ma.”

Ava ignored her son’s sarcastic drawl and turned to look at Meredith who’d gotten up from the sofa. Much like her daughter, Ava pulled Meredith into a hug.

“it’s so lovely to finally meet you, Meredith. Cormac won’t stop going on about you whenever he calls.”

Meredith gave a nervous smile, a slight blush crawling up her cheeks. “It’s nice to meet you too but I definitely wouldn’t believe everything he says about me.”

“Nonsense. You’re the woman who’s finally managed to put a smile on my son’s face again. I’ll forever be grateful to you because of that.” Ava’s eyes began to well up with tears.

Meredith took one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. “You raised an amazing man and he’s done a lot more for me than I have for him.”

Ava quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen. “Oh, don’t praise him too much, it’ll just go to his head.”

“Oh, trust me, there’s no risk of that.”

“It’s true, that’s probably the first compliment she’s given me in the past three months.”

Meredith just rolled her eyes at him in response, “There’s just not a lot to compliment and that’s not my fault.

Ava couldn’t help but chuckle at their interaction. She felt fully at peace now having met Meredith. She’d never doubted her son’s judgment but having finally met Meredith, Ava knew that her son was in good hands, and she couldn’t be happier. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t spoken to her son’s girlfriend for very long, Ava just had a good feeling about her. Not only that but she had seen the way that Meredith and Cormac kept glancing at each other, she could sense the lightness in her son’s stature that she feared had disappeared forever and the woman standing in front of her had been willing to take a 13-hour flight to meet her boyfriend’s family for the first time. If Cormac ever let go of Meredith, Ava was going to give him hell, but she was pretty sure that this was Cormac’s second chance love and she didn’t know anyone that deserved it more.

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Three: Interview

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read Previous Chapters Here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is deserted at 4am, which is exactly why she has to be there so early. She arrives at Skinner’s office with nothing but her car keys and the casual clothing on her back. Agent Wiley, a young woman in her twenties, greets Scully warmly. She’s tall and brunette with an hourglass figure, and Scully has the passing thought that she is exactly Mulder’s type. She wonders if they’ve ever met.

“I’ll drive you to your apartment in Philly where you’ll stay for the duration of the undercover assignment, Agent Scully,” Wiley says in an authoritative though very high pitched voice. “We’ll leave your car in the bureau garage for the duration, but you can give A.D. Skinner your keys for safekeeping.”

Scully hands Skinner her keys and he sets them on top of his desk, rubbing his hands over a weary and sleep-rumpled face.

“I’ll fill you in on the case details on the way. Let’s hit the road, we’ve got a two and a half hour drive ahead of us,” she finishes, slinging her purse over her shoulder and making for the door.

Scully follows her mutely. Just as she reaches the door herself, Skinner speaks.

“Agent Scully?” he asks in a hoarse voice. She turns to face him. “I…I…” He keeps restarting his sentence, but never gets further than that.

Scully finally interjects. “It’s okay, sir. I understand. We all have a job to do.”

He nods at her with a grateful expression, and she follows Agent Wiley out to the parking garage.

The sun is just beginning to brighten the inky sky as they drive out of D.C. Agent Wiley is chatty behind the wheel as Scully leafs through the case file; once they get to Philly, she won’t have the opportunity to see it again. The only trace of Dana Scully in her apartment will be a burner cell phone, which she is to keep off and hidden in an air duct in the wall. She will call Agent Wiley at least every other day, or as needed, to share any updates. She is to turn the phone on only when she’s sure no one else is in the apartment with her. She is expected to get as close as possible to the other dancers at the club, one of whom they believe to be Mila Chamberlain. In the file, there’s a photo of Mila, a young Asian woman with a short blonde pixie cut and penetrating dark brown eyes. There is also her parents’ account of her disappearance shortly after meeting Ricky at a party, and their fears that’s she’s a victim of sex trafficking.

“Your cover is Diane Sellers, recently divorced and needing work,” Agent Wiley explains. “To our understanding, they won’t ask you much about your history, but it’s still good to have a backstory ready. It can be helpful to use real details from your life in regards to things like siblings, parents, and past romantic partners, just because it’s easier to keep straight. We don’t recommend addiction being a part of your backstory, in case that affects Ricky’s willingness to trust you. You should immerse yourself as much as possible with the staff, including spending time with them outside work if you can. You can have them over to your apartment, which is why it’s important that there’s nothing there that isn’t part of Diane’s story. It’s fully furnished with everything from tampons to Rice a Roni, but we’ve also set up a bank account and a debit card in case you need to buy anything. Once you identify Mila, call me. You should try to get as close to her as possible, and ultimately the goal is to confirm that she’s being held against her will. Then we’ll raid the club and get you both out of there. What questions do you have?”

Scully stares out the window at the cars rushing by. The pink sunrise illuminating the clouds on the horizon makes the sky look pinstriped.

“Why weren’t you asked to go undercover, if this is your case? You’re young, you’re very pretty. So I guess my question is why not you?” She recognizes the irritation in her voice, but she can’t help herself.

Agent Wiley glances over at her and back to the road a few times. “I can understand why you’d ask that. And I also realize that I haven’t thanked you for taking this assignment. It was a hard one to staff.”

Scully scoffs and turns to face the other woman. “I wasn’t given a choice, Agent Wiley.”

“Right. Sorry. Um, the reason I couldn’t take this assignment is that I have an ostomy bag, as a result of a pretty severe case of Crohn’s. I doubt anyone wants to see a stripper with a bag of poop strapped to her belly dancing around on stage.”

Scully closes her eyes against the shame that wells in her gut. “I’m sorry, Agent Wiley. That was rude of me to ask.”

“Don’t worry about it, Agent Scully. Honestly, I’d take my ostomy bag over this assignment any day. I don’t envy you.”

Scully turns back to the window, spinning up the life story of Diane Sellers as they drive on through the early morning light and towards her uncertain future.

Agent Wiley drops her off around the corner from her apartment with nothing but a set of keys and verbal instructions for where she can locate the burner phone. Her interview is today at 2, and the address of the club and interview information are on a slip of paper on the kitchen counter. They bid one another an awkward goodbye, and Scully goes in search of her home for the next several weeks.

The apartment is small, a studio, and fully furnished. She can tell that Agent Wiley herself took care of decorating it; youthful touches like a sequined throw pillow and a magnet on the fridge with “Diane” printed on a tiny license plate give it a dorm-like feel. Many of the items appeared to have been thrifted, which will be important to keeping up her ruse of being a woman in a tight spot financially. She locates the air duct and the burner phone, turning it on to be sure it works before securing it back in its hiding place. She pokes around the various cabinets and cupboards to find all kinds of dried goods and snacks, and is surprised by the 6 pack of beer in the fridge and the bottle of vodka in the freezer. The closet is full of clothing in her size, some of it basic jeans and tees, some of it tube tops and daisy duke shorts that she would never wear. Well, Scully would never wear them, but she suspects Diane would. The slip of paper on the counter reads:

Damsels in Dominance

1634 W York St, Philly

Ricky Dean, 2pm

She makes a face at the name and her stomach turns at the thought that this might be some kind of S&M club. It's just after 9am, so she has quite a bit of time to kill before her interview. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, so instead she takes a thorough inventory of all the cabinets and closets to see if anything important is missing. In the bathroom, she opens the medicine cabinet to find a full Oil of Olay skin care line right next to a box of condoms. What the hell does Agent Wiley think she has planned for this assignment? Her confusion deepens when she pulls open the drawer of the bedside table and is greeted by a book light as well as a small bullet vibrator. Either Agent Wiley went to very great lengths to make sure this apartment would pass the sniff test for anyone who decided to snoop, or….she doesn’t even know what the other possibility is. Adding some paperback novels to her mental shopping list, she slams the drawer shut and flops down on the bed. Mulder is at work by now, and she wonders how long Skinner will be able to keep up the ruse. Knowing Mulder, not all that long.

Mulder arrives at work just past 8, noting that Scully’s car is parked in her typical spot in the garage; she must have needed to stop by before heading to Quantico. He’s a little bit disappointed that she’ll be away for the next few weeks; the basement office is exceedingly boring without her. At the same time, he’s grateful for a bit of space to think.

The tension between them had reached a tipping point but now sits suspended, teetering between coworkers and friends or whatever lay on the other side. He’s made some attempts at pushing things towards the “more than friends” end of the spectrum, but nothing seems to come of it. He kissed her, and while she kissed him back and seemed receptive to it, she hasn’t initiated anything further. The night they played baseball together was fun and flirtatious, but again nothing happened. He’s getting the sense that any move will need to be made by him. Maybe Scully just isn’t the forward type in these situations, or maybe she isn’t confident enough that he’ll reciprocate. This time that she’s working away from the office might be the perfect opportunity to take her out on a real date, knowing that if things get weird they won’t have to face each other in the morning.

Entering the office, he doesn’t find her there; they must have just missed each other. He logs into his email and opens a new message.

Hey G-woman,

What time can you get away for lunch today? I was thinking about checking out that new sushi place on 8th. Or we can meet halfway, whatever works.

Would you like to get dinner sometime this week? My treat. Let me know.

Mulder

He hits send, then digs in to some more case reports that he needs to complete. He has a vision of Scully returning to find them completely caught up on paperwork and how pleased she’d be with him, and decides then and there to make it a reality. While he’s not generally an approval-seeking kind of guy, the surprised smile on Scully’s face when he does something uncharacteristically responsible is one of his favorites. The number one spot will always, of course, be held by the smile she gives him when he says or does something that truly strikes her as funny. He finds it hard to keep from smiling just thinking about it.

Two hours later, there’s no response from Scully. That’s a little bit weird, but not exceedingly so; if she’s working on a particularly gnarly autopsy it can take quite a while. When he still hasn’t gotten a response by noon, he first checks his sent email to be sure it went out, then picks up his office phone.

“Autopsy bay, this is Richard.”

“Hey, Rich, this is Agent Mulder up at the Hoover Building.”

“Hi, Agent Mulder, how can I help you?”

“Is Agent Scully around? I was hoping to talk to her.”

“No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Not at all today?”

“No, I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, actually.”

A flush of worry spreads across his chest.

“Hey, Rich, are you guys pretty busy down there? I hear you have a big case you’re working on.”

“Busy? Uh, no, not really. Just business as usual.”

“Okay, thanks. If you see Agent Scully, will you ask her to call me?”

“Sure, will do, Agent Mulder.”

“I appreciate it, bye.”

He sets the phone down and sits back in his chair. Did Scully lie to him? And if so, why? Her car is here, so he knows she came in today. Picking up the phone again he tries her cell, which goes straight to voicemail. The darkest part of his brain worries that she came to the office but never made it to Quantico. He makes one final phone call.

“Skinner.”

“Hi, sir, this is Agent Mulder.”

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?”

“Have you heard from Agent Scully today? I’m having a hard time getting in touch with her.”

“She’s assigned to work at Quantico for the next few weeks, Agent Mulder, she wasn’t expected to report to the Hoover Building today.”

“I know, sir, but her car was in the garage when I got here and I just called over to Quantico and they haven’t seen her today. I’m a little worried.”

He hears Skinner mutter what sounds like “Jesus H Christ” under his breath before he speaks again. “Agent Scully is fine, Agent Mulder. She’s on assignment. I encourage you to focus on your own assignment.”

Mulder hesitates. “Should I take that to mean that she’s NOT assigned to Quantico?”

Skinner sighs. “All you need to know is that she is fine, but unreachable. You worry about yourself and let me worry about Agent Scully, got it?”

“Um, okay. Thank you, sir.”

He hangs up the phone even more confused than before. Scully’s behavior yesterday after she returned from Skinner’s office makes a little more sense; she was uncomfortable about lying to him. When he leaves the office that night, her car is in the same spot it had been that morning. He doesn’t like this, but he knows Scully was in the same situation when he was on an undercover assignment and he should just trust her, and Skinner, and wait it out. That’s easier said than done, and he spends his entire evening imagining all the dangerous situations she might be immersed in. Drug cartels, amateur mafias, cults, hackers, the list goes on and on. He can only hope that she’s safe.

Damsels in Dominance is an unassuming building nestled between strip malls and fast food restaurants. The parking lot and entrance are at the back of the building, a fabric-draped chain link fence surrounding it for privacy. Scully pays the cab driver, though now that she realizes how close her apartment is to the place she’ll probably just walk back. After much deliberation, she wound up wearing jeans and a blue T shirt, guessing that it would be out of place to dress up for an interview at a strip club. She pulls the front door open and finds herself in a small foyer with a counter along one wall, a hulking man perched behind it on a stool. Even seated she can tell that he’s very tall, with a broad chest and square shoulders. His neck is nearly nonexistent, thick and disappearing into the rolls under his chin like a tree trunk. His head is shaved bald and his deeply tan skin shows evidence of long ago healed acne scars on his ruddy cheeks. A small gold name tag pinned to his T-shirt reads “Denny.”

“Hi, I’m Diane, I’m here for an interview with Ricky,” she says with a smile. She’s decided that Diane will be the kind of person with an easy smile. The kind of person who makes friends quickly. She channels her sister Melissa, who would talk to anyone and somehow have them sharing details of their childhood trauma within fifteen minutes. If she’s going to get these people talking, she needs to be more like Missy and less like herself.

Denny nods with a grunt and stands, proving himself to be at least six inches taller than Mulder; her head barely reaches his waist. He comes around the counter to push open a second door and holds it for her, motioning her to follow. They enter one end of a long hallway, a door directly in front of them labeled “Enter Here to be Dominated.” They walk down the hall, past some restrooms and several other unmarked doors, until they come to one that says “office.” Denny knocks and a small woman answers.

“Diane, 2 o’clock interview,” Denny says in a flat baritone, then turns and walks away.

[bethchapelsbonnet]

I Dont remember if it Was on you're Ways to Tell ILY Prompt list but might I suggest a "I Choose you" Hournite One shot?

I didn't see you interact with the original submission I answered, so I included it here

I Choose You

All of the fuss that Beth went through to try to compile each and every piece of evidence that someone may need in order to get Rick the heck out of that place was simply... Well - it was actually exhausting, but she never realized until she was at the end of her days.

The database was always excellent and as the official Dr. Mid-Nite, she had access to even more information.

Not what she truly needed - to be able to actually speak to Rick. To assess how he was doing. To at least hold his hand, which.. she was conflicted about that one in particular. She didn't understand why that idea kept coming to her when she and Rick never actually really touched each other that way.

Casually - pats on the back or holding each other back in a fight, but nothing so intimate as hand holding. Maybe it was her renewed self confidence. She had chosen herself. And now, she was choosing Rick. 

They didn't allow any of them to see him. He was currently being held at a juvenile center, assigned a caseworker and a child advocate attorney, with an ongoing investigation about his uncle and his home life. But, Beth found out the names of everyone involved in his case and she was sending them documents, school reports, and everything that she could scrape up to prove that Rick was in a dangerous household and had been abused and mistreated. 

It was her hope that they would all see it was self defense and go easy on him. Courtney and Pat had tried to explain to her that Eclipso was controlling him. It wasn't self defense. It was just a terrible mind game.

Not too long ago, they were pressing her to accept murdering a bad guy… but suddenly, when it's THIS bad guy… who didn't even DIE, they were willing to accept Rick turning himself in and being put away? "It's what Rick wanted, to be held accountable.."

"He didn't DO it! It was Eclipso!" Beth had snapped at Courtney. Courtney's eyes went wide and she got quiet. Of course she knew that and she didn't deserve Beth being rude with her, either, but Beth was too frustrated to tell herself that at the moment and Rick wasn't around…

She called him anyway, as she stormed out. 

"Rick!" She took a deep breath, "You don't deserve to be held responsible for something that you didn't do wrong!" She noticed Courtney in the corner of her eye and whispered, "There's nothing you need to be held accountable for and I'm working on helping you get out. Just… I hope you aren't too hard on yourself." She hung up and looked at Courtney.

"I watched him run around, hallucinating, breaking down as he was attacked by something that we couldn't see… it was like with Yolanda, only someone did get hurt. I didn't want to have to see that again and it wasn't easy to let Rick confess, but what else could we do? What would you have done differently?"

Beth wanted to say that she wouldn't have let him out of her sight, that she would have talked to him until he was back down to Earth..  but as a firm believer in herself, some part of her knew that Courtney didn't have that type of power. Beth was the one who could stop Rick in his tracks and make him think for a moment. 

"What about when you see a dead 10 year old girl? Would you have been able to use your head in that moment and stop him from reacting?"

Beth sniffled and wiped her face, "If I was here, I know that I could have fixed this. I know that I could have talked him down. He listens to me. It's different with us. And with Eclipso… it's personal now."

.

Rick heard about an "adorable but incredibly annoying" girl who spoonfed a lot of information to his case worker and his advocate. They didn't have to describe her. He did initially automatically think Courtney, since that was who saw him last on the outside and that's who annoyed him more than any girl he knew…

But when they spoke about legal documents, school incidents and cases and studies of similar cases..  He knew that they meant Beth. A lot of her findings needed to be double checked by the proper authorities and his advocate would need to speak with a judge, but it was looking like Rick may be entitled to psychological treatment from years of abuse that resulted in him finally lashing back.

He wanted to argue with that, but in a way.. that felt like some type of hope and he couldn't say there wasn't truth in it. Whatever Beth had done, he finally felt some peace of mind, since coming here…

.

The court order to grant him a placement took shorter than he thought, even though it still felt super long. The Chapels weren't foster parents, but thanks to some… creative documentation on Beth's part, they were able to be listed as family friends to whom custody could be signed over.

He would be trying for emancipation, but in the meantime, he had a place to sleep and eat and stuff… and Beth was there.

"How did you manage to pull this off?" Rick wondered, more confused than grateful, but she didn't take it to heart. She smiled and tapped her goggles. "Of course…" he stared at his bags on the floor. "Did you get the full story?"

"I got Courtney and Pat's side of it. You don't have to tell me, but in your own time, if you want to, you can." She handed him some mail, "I filled out your paperwork and sent it in. You've gotten at least one response."

"My paperwork?"

She winced, "I totally trespassed into your car and home, scanning everything and looking for something to help me. I traced punched in walls, I took an inventory of the alcohol in there, you name it. I also found the forms that you had for college and financial aid. I took them with me, but also wondered what they were doing there. So I checked on cell phone records and saw that Miss Woods-" she rolled her eyes when she said her name. (She wasn't fond of how cruelly that woman had treated Rick, and she didn't mind saying so), "Had been there. I figured she was the one who gave those to you, went to pay her a visit and questioned her until she told me about what happened earlier. She had seen your uncle and he was belligerent and drinking. I told her that I would speak to your advocate in order to see if that was usable information. It was. She made for a very dependable character reference."

Rick looked stunned. He didn't know what to say, but eventually landed on, "Why am I at your house and not at Pat's? I don't even know your parents and they probably aren't pleased about what happened." 

"Well, I believe that I've managed to do quite the PR campaign for you when I was making my rounds to see if anybody had recollection of witnessing your uncle be unkind to you. A lot of people have been quiet about things that they should have spoken up about… myself included.." she lowered her head, "I noticed bruises on you sometimes at lunch when we weren't friends and I guessed that they weren't from some school fight, otherwise, the school would know." She looked up at him and her eyes were brimming with tears, "All of us made choices to mind our business and just leave you to fend for yourself. Everybody's been feeling pretty guilty that it came to… that.."

She cleared her throat, "There's enough going on at Courtney's house, and Yolanda's isn't an option. I couldn't let you wind up at the group home. Artemis is there. The last time you two saw each other, you almost killed one another. I thought my home was the best choice. It's safe, there's just me here. My parents believed me when I vouched for you, so they would be acting like wardens or anything, and I just… I feel better knowing that if something happens, I'll be there."

He sat down on the guest bed and twiddled his thumbs, "That's just it. If something happens, I… I no longer have the hourglass. I won't be able to protect you fully."

"I can protect myself," she said, sitting next to him. "Just wait until you hear my Eclipso story."

"Your what?"

"He attacked me the same time that he attacked you…" Rick looked terrified as he checked her over for damages. "It's a long story, but I'm fine. It went very differently for me than it did for you." She looked sad for a moment. I think he must've known."

He was confused. Beth looked him in the eyes through her goggles, "That we protect each other. That you fight for me and I fight for you. I felt so victorious when I was able to take my goggles back from me and solidify my place on the team… the. I found out he had gotten to my Rick…" 

His heart jumped in his chest and he stared at her. He reached for her goggles but she shook her head and he withdrew his hands. "It wasn't anything to do with you."

"No, but had I been there…"

"Then you could have gotten hurt or had to see me become the very kind of monster that I hate!" 

She furrowed her eyebrows and she grabbed his hand, harder than she meant to, but that demanded his attention and he stared at her face, "If I had been there, you would've had the extra strength you needed to see through him. I wouldn't have let you fight. Please believe me when I say that I'm sure I could have talked some sense into you. I could have saved you from thinking that you're a monster. Because you aren't a monster, Rick. You're a kid who was in a situation that most of us can't fathom, and when you needed me, I wasn't there." He started crying and shook his head. "I'll understand if you want to stay with Mr. Dugan instead…"

"No. No.."He had told Grundy that day that he just needed someone to care about him, to be kind to him, and he could be alright. Rick was so caught up in the stress of his uncle, he hadn't thought about how he did have someone like that. He had his friends, the Dugans, and he had Beth. She had done all of this, because she felt like she'd failed him. Like she was supposed to protect him. She wasn't obligated to do that, but the fact that she wanted to, that she tried to. 

Hell, she was even correct about being able to talk him down. He didn't know if she could have that night, but as much as she meant to him… he couldn't rule out that what if. He collected her hand to his heart and said extremely softly, "I choose you." 

@futurewriterwannebe

[mangobilorian]

A Way Out | (mature) i

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Genre: Light Smut

Words: 4341

Summary: You only want to do three things in life: get off your planet, become a pilot, and trace your dead brother's footsteps.

After an unconventional and embarrassing situation, you might consider adding a certain Mandalorian to that list...

As the night grew, so did the sounds of clinking glasses and boisterous chatter. It was still early, but the bar’s reputation lent itself to being occupied faster than the neighboring establishments. After all, the port city teemed with travelers, criminals, and average people, all of whom could use a drink and a woman or two.

You could only sigh at the noise. The bar was your father’s, and the adjoining brothel was your mother’s. Well, it wasn’t a real brothel. It was more of a collection of private rooms attached to the bar. There weren’t many rooms, but the girls were very pretty and ranged from human to Twi’lek to Togruta. They also hated you for some reason. When you turned your back to them, they’d whisper loud enough for you to hear their insults. If you faced them, they faked innocence and accused you of starting drama. Your parents, as loving as they were, were business people first. The girls made them a good profit; of course they’d prioritize their happiness over yours. It’s all for you, they would say.

The only person who understood you was your brother. Oh Maker, how you missed him. He was a pilot, one of the best on the planet. He would fly off-world and come back with tales of his travels. At one point, he promised to teach you to fly. During one of his expeditions, he went missing. You held out hope for months before news of his death arrived at your doorstep. You were only thirteen years old.

Seven years later, you were still stuck in the god-awful tavern. Nothing exciting ever happened, your time was spent helping your parents on the financial aspects of running a business. Of course, the walls had ears, and you were one of them. All the tavern girls were trained in subtlety pilfering information from clients which would then be shared in exchange for money. But you wanted information on things other than drugs and crime. You wanted to know about ways to get out of the planet to trace your brother’s steps. After almost a decade of gathering info, you still pulled up short.

When the night progresses and business overflows, you were often in the back office looking out the one-way window. It’s amusing to see what people do or say when they think no one is watching. You almost don’t notice the change in atmosphere. The regular tavern noises were always in the background of your mind, but the immediate hush caught your attention. Looking up, you see a tall man at the entrance. Armor covered his entire body, even his head. As if he could see you through the window, he tilts his helmet at you. The bar patrons mutter among themselves and resume their drinking after their initial shock.

A Mandalorian, the patrons whisper. Everyone was clearly interested in the man, but an undercurrent of fear ran through them. Bounty hunters, some said. Fiercest warriors in the galaxy, said others. I bet you that he isn’t even human, the brothel girls giggle.

The Mandalorian immediately approaches the girls, his steps direct and focused. He stops short of a green Twi’lek, named Zew’lon, who looks at him with the most seductive eyes she could muster.

“I’m looking for information about a man.” The disappointment of the girls was almost tangible.

“What makes you think we have the info you want? We’re much better at other services,” Zew’lon purrs. The Mandalorian simply stands there.

“I can pay. A male Devaronian, solidly built, and half of his right horn missing with an old scar through his eyebrow. Sound familiar?” The girls look at each other, silently communicating until they reach a decision. The Mandalorian’s description of his bounty struck a familiar chord. Last week, the bar had trouble with a Devaronian, and he was kicked out for harassing a girl. Two days later, he returned for more booze and pleasure only to end the night with his ass on the street outside the building. You didn’t get a good look at his face both nights, but you definitely knew him from the rumor mill. In fact, the man the Mandalorian seems to be looking for is none other than Ras Drun.

Zew’lon turns to the bounty hunter, her lashes fluttering. “We’ll make a deal with you, Mando. You can have the information free of charge if you pick one of us girls to pleasure. Sounds good?” Almost in disbelief, the Mandalorian steps back and examines each girl carefully.

“I can pay you for the information, or I’ll leave and find another bar,” he turns around, but a green hand hooks on to the crook of his elbow.

“You won’t find anything about the Devaronian you’re looking for elsewhere. We’re the best place in the city for drinks and girls but especially for information.” Her fingers curl tighter, the nails almost sinking into the dark fabric covering his arm. “Trust me, we offer the best. We made you a deal, a damn good one, so why won’t you take it? Is it because we’re not pretty enough for you?” She asks as she steps closer. Zew’lon is close enough that her head is only a few inches away from the Mandalorian’s covered neck, her glittering eyes looking into the darkened T-shaped visor. He tugs his elbow out from her grasp, almost violently.

“Then I’m leaving.” Something surges in your chest. The feeling of a missed opportunity, or maybe a longing for excitement. You clamor to the door and just as the Mandalorian walks away, you step out of the office.

“I know the Devaronian. Ras Drun, correct?” Your voice is loud enough for him to hear, albeit a little shaky. Stopping in his tracks, he faces you. Zew’lon shoots you daggers and a thin-lipped smile.

“Ah yes, the darling little owner’s daughter. Don’t worry, Mando. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She just wants to mess--” he holds a hand up, effectively silencing her and the entire bar of customers, all of whom were simply watching the scene unfold.

“You know Ras Drun?” You nod. “Tell me more,” he says, already reaching for a bag of credits. Before he can approach you, Zew’lon braces an arm against his chest plate.

“That girl abides by the laws of the tavern. We make an offer, and she upholds it.” Zew’lon can barely hide her annoyance. The Mandalorian grunts and shoves her arm off, continuing to walk towards you. Zew’lon, miffed and angry, reaches you before he does and drags you into the office.

“What do you think you’re doing, little girl?” The pure rage in her eyes makes you rethink all your prior decisions.

“He just wanted to know about the bounty. Holding that information for sex isn’t really moral, is it?” She laughs in disbelief.

“It’s immoral? Of course it is, girl. I’m a whore, I steal information from the criminals who come to fuck me, and I sell that info to the highest bidder. That’s what we all do. For once, a man who isn’t a gross Hutt or slimy criminal comes for our product. I’ve never had a taste of Mandalorians, you know. So when we offer him a perfectly good deal, you have the audacity to come down from your little throne because it’s immoral?” She scoffs, her fingers curling into her palms. Talons, you think. Zew’lon has talons, not nails.

Sighing, she looks at you. Really looks at you. She sees the pathetic way you curl into yourself, your downcast eyes, and sad posture. Maker, you had the confidence of a worm. A thought bubbles into Zew’lon’s head. She knew you were a virgin; it was a constant topic of conversation among the girls.

“Tell you what. You go to your precious Mando and tell him all about that Devaronian. But. He has to sleep with you. And we’ll know if it happens.” Brows furrowing, you look up at the Twi’lek. Fear hammers in your chest.

“Why--” she holds up a taloned finger.

“No protest. Either you do it or we do. Now let’s go.” She basically drags you out, her nails digging into your skin. When you leave the office, you see the Mandalorian standing in the same spot. The brothel girls are now dispersed back into their regular job of seducing the customers.

“Well, Mando. Feel free to take her.” She shoves you into the Mandalorian’s chest, his reflexes fast enough to stop a full collision with his chest plate. However, the bottom of his helmet dug into your forehead, making you wince. “Remember, little girl. We’ll know.” Zew’lon winks then moves on to flirt around the bar. The Mandalorian releases your arms and looks at you with anticipation. You clear your throat.

“Right. Um… this way.” You lead him down a hallway obscured by a red curtain. To the left are the private rooms for clients. To the right are the stairs leading to your living quarters above the tavern. On instinct, your feet go right before you realize that you were dragging an armored bounty hunter to what was essentially your house. Too late now to back out, you guess. As you climb the stairs shakily, you’re thankful that your parents are out on a business trip and won’t be there to see dragging a Mandalorian to your room.

You push open your door, the man behind you still as silent as ever. He sets his rifle down on your desk table and leans against the wall. Maker, he looks so large. Tall, broad shoulders, and so kriffing intimidating. You would be lying if you didn’t say you were attracted to the sight. He just stares at you, waiting. You clear your throat and shuffle your feet.

“The man you’re… uh… looking for is Ras Drun. He came to this tavern twice in the past week. The last time he was here was five days ago, I think.” You look everywhere but at him. You’re telling him about his bounty, but it feels like you’re the one he’s hunting instead. “Apparently, he has the habit of rotating around bars. I’m pretty sure he’s an alcoholic,” an awkward laugh bubbles out. “Anyway, rumor has it that he killed another Devaronian named Varc recently. Varc was an alright dude, but I think he was a spice dealer. A lot of people got mad when he died since he was their only source, you know?” The Mandalorian hadn’t moved a single inch since you started talking.

“A lot of Varc’s friends hang around the spaceport, so I doubt Ras left the planet. He’s probably laying low before he can leave to find more alcohol.” News of Varc’s death travelled fast, and all the local pilots knew about Ras almost immediately.

“How do you know all of this?” He tilts his head forward, light glinting off his helmet. His shoulders have dropped, his stance widened. He looks so relaxed.

“People talk and… I hang around the spaceport a lot. So I heard about it there too. I know Varc’s pilot friends. Here, I can give you their names.” Before he could say anything, you pull out some durasheet and a pen, writing down the pilot’s names, other taverns, and anything else you could think of that would help the Mandalorian. You don’t even know why you’re being so helpful. He takes the sheet in his hands and just stands there.

The Mandalorian pulls out a bag of credits and walks over to you, dropping it into your hand.

“Thank you,” he says as he turns to open the door. Nothing happens. He twists the handle again, but the door doesn’t budge. How can the door be locked from the outside? “It’s locked. Why did you--”

“Mando… didn’t that girl tell you what the deal was?” Zew’lon’s voice echoes from the other side. “We put a bunch of heavy things outside the door, so don’t even try to leave until after midnight. That’s when the most fun happens after all.” Giggles chorus from outside then die down as the girls leave. The Mandalorian turns to you.

Anger. All you feel is anger deep in your stomach. How dare they trap you in your own fucking room?! With a bounty hunter, no less. But you’re also afraid. Because now you have to address the “deal” you made with Zew’lon. The Mandalorian’s fists clench at his sides. He wants to pick up his rifle and get the fuck out of there.

Ras Drun had escaped him on two planets. That Devaronian knew Mando was after him, so he made it as hard as he could to find him. Until he apparently murdered the friendly neighborhood spice dealer. What an idiot. Mando knows he can break out of this room. A couple shots of his amban rifle and the door would be gone to bits. Or he could simply prop open your window and crawl out that way. Uncivilized but necessary. But the Twi’lek’s words and your anxious face confused him.

Maker, you were the most nervous person he had ever met. And that’s including the list of bounties who begged for their life. Mando understood that his reputation, or his culture for the matter, preceded him. Mandalorians were bounty hunters, hired mercenaries, and the best fighters in the galaxy. Anyone would be nervous around him. But you… you were shifty around everyone. Even the annoying Twi’lek. You hadn’t even protested when she dragged you into the back room or when she pushed you into his chest. You just stood there and took it. And you could barely even muster up the confidence to tell him about Ras Drun. The very cadence of your voice and posture screamed anxiety and fear. Somehow, your demeanor frustrates him.

Mando sighs. You gave him useful information but at what cost to? Being stuck with a young, frightened girl while his ship was docked in the port? He was exhausted from a long day in hyperspace and just wanted a private place to take off his helmet and sleep. He could tell that his silence was killing you, given that you were gnawing on your bottom lip nervously.

“What deal?’ he asks, probably too harshly. The distortion of his voice made him sound lifeless, scarier. He sees you gulp, his eyes trained on the soft column of your throat. He could also see the ways your eyes moved, as if you were contemplating on whether you should lie.

“Z-zew’lon said that I have to s-sleep with you after I tell you a-about Ras. I didn’t think she’d lock us in here. Honest to Maker. I r-really didn’t know,” you all but sob. The reality was sinking in for you. Mando shakes his head. You were quite obviously on the verge of a panic attack. He doesn’t really deal with stuff like that. But there was something about the entire situation that seemed… deeper to you. Yes, you were stuck with a scary bounty hunter. But the blush on your cheeks was probably not from the tears about to sprout from your eyes.

To test his budding theory, Mando steps closer and sees your blush deepen. You don’t move a muscle as Mando stands right in front of you, his feet entering your periphery. Cautiously, almost hesitantly, a gloved hand lifts your chin. Your lips tremble under his touch, and Mando can see the unshed tears gathering. “Do you want to sleep with me?” he asks, if only to see your reaction. Your eyes widen comically as you try to sputter a response, but a finger stops your lips from moving. They tingle from the sensation.

“I think it’s clear the Twi’lek won’t let us out anytime soon. I won’t do anything you don’t me to do.” He looks past you and at your bed. Your medium-sized, fluffy, real bed. “I could use some sleep, anyway.” He lets go of you, and he could see a flash of emotion in your eyes. Disappointment, maybe? Why would you be disappointed? He thought that the idea of him just sleeping wouldn’t scare you as much as actually have to sleep with him. But no, the nervousness was still there. Kriffing hell, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to sleep in a real bed. Weeks on the Razor Crest’s atrocious cot did nothing for his aching back. But now he has to calm you down first before he can sleep. In your silence, you just stare back at him.

“Do you trust me?” He chides himself. Of course you don’t trust him; he’s a helmeted bounty hunter. But to his surprise, you nod. “Do you have a spare piece of fabric?” You nod again and move to get an old shirt. Gently, he takes it from your hands and looks at your eyes. One swipe of his gloved finger and the moisture is gone. He wraps the shirt around your eyes, ensuring its snug fit. “Can you see anything?” You shake your head.

Slowly, he removes his armor. His helmet stays on and he places the armor next to his rifle. He locks the door and turns off the light. You gasp at the added black to your vision. Mando, still able to see with his helmet, maneuvers you to the bed. You almost stumble backwards, but his arms hold on to you. His hands radiate heat, the calloused fingers almost soothing to your skin. Wait. He’s not wearing his gloves. In fact, when you reach out to touch him, you realize he’s not wearing any armor at all. Except for his helmet. So very carefully, Mando sets you down in a sitting position. Now he is the one who is nervous.

Maker, this was his idea, and he knows it’s not a good one. But seeing you perched on the bed, eyes covered, and shoulders hunched in nervousness really does set off some deep primal instinct. However enticing you do look though, he just wants to ease your anxiety then promptly sleep. The sound of a hiss echoes around the room as he lifts his helmet off and sets it down on the floor next to the bed. You couldn’t believe it. Ten minutes ago, you were rambling to him about his next bounty and now he’s helmetless while you’re blindfolded on your bed.

Mando can’t see anything anymore, but he remembers your general position. His hands cradle your face so very gently. Who would have known that the scariest hunter in the parsec was so soft? His breath fans over your face briefly. This was it. Your first kiss would be with a Mandalorian. Instead of your lips, however, you feel a pressure on your forehead. A soft, plush pressure. He kissed my forehead, you think in disbelief.

Mando could sense your frustration. But he wants to go easy on you since you probably were the most delicate person he’s ever met. To his surprise (and frankly to yours too), you tilt your face up, and press into where you think his lips are. You land on his chin and can practically feel his shock. He closes the gap between you, and Maker, his lips feel so good. An involuntary shiver runs through your body, much to Mando’s delight. Your hands snake around his neck to tug him closer. More. You wanted more.

Mando broke for air before slotting his lips against yours with more fervor. His lips make yours tingle, and you resist the urge to moan. You didn’t know if you were doing a good job or not; all you knew was that you never wanted it to end.

As for Mando, he could barely contain his nerves. You were the first person he’d taken his helmet off around ever. No one on his (short) list of people he’s been intimate with had ever been in the same room as him without his helmet. He knew that his helmet was 100% his sex appeal. The mystery of the man behind the helm drove certain girls crazy apparently. But something about the way you reacted to him made him think differently. Yes, you were probably scared because he was a Mandalorian. But you were equally scared in the dark. However, all that fear went out the window the second he kissed you. You were incredibly receptive to his touches. So sensitive. For his first kiss, he thoroughly enjoyed it too.

Very carefully, he began to ease you backwards. You were slowly laid flat on your bed with Mando on top. Groaning, you open your mouth wider, your tongue gently prodding at his. Mando hisses at the contact and responds in kind. Your hands were fully tugging at his hair by now (not that he minded), and his hands somehow found their way to your hips. The pressure from his weight makes it harder to breathe, but breathing doesn’t really matter right now. Minutes pass (or possibly hours). The kissing only stops when you need air. Eventually, his head lowers down. Past your trembling chin and to your warm neck.

Stars, you were so warm and soft. Mando nudges his nose on the column of your throat, mouth opening to allow teeth to bite gently at the flesh there. You gasp, fingers pulling harder at his hair. You were so mindless with pleasure and sensation, not bothering to notice how utterly restless you were. Grunting, Mando breaks away from your neck and pulls your hands off of him.

“W-why’d you stop?” A calloused hand clasps both of your smaller ones and holds them above your head, your arms stretching to accommodate the new position.

“Stay still,” he orders before diving to attach his mouth to the skin above your collarbone. You winced when he bit down particularly hard, but his tongue soothes the mark after. A moan escapes you when he begins to suck on your skin. Maker, you’d heard stories of pleasure like this, and you never believed them. But now, arms held up by a mysterious bounty hunter in your bedroom, the prospect of losing your virginity never felt more thrilling. His free hand skims your sides, tugging your shirt higher. The cold air on your exposed stomach makes you shiver, but a warm hand glazes over you. Quickly--almost too quickly-- Mando takes off your undergarments and discards it to the side.

The change is definitely nerve-wracking. As if he could sense your inexperience, Mando moves very slowly and carefully. Then a warmth envelopes you right there and wow, everything is so new and exciting and good.

“So--fucking-- so soft,” he groans as he continues his ministrations, stopping sometimes to place tiny kisses over your chest. You could get lost in the feeling for the rest of your life. He peppers in bites then glosses over them with more kisses and touches. His free hand rubs circles on your clenched thighs as if he knows the pleasure and agony he’s putting you through. However, the pressure on your pelvis increases, and Mando’s kisses slow down. As if a weight was placed on his back, Mando buckles down and lies flat on top of you.

“I- are you ok?” You grunt out, unused to the weight. He simply groans in response.

“Sleepy.” Oh. So he was tired.

Annoyed, you pull down your shirt and drag him up the bed in a position next to you. His solid build was too heavy for you to gracefully move, and he was no help either. Kriffing hell, did he really pass out? Were you cockblocked by exhaustion? Well it didn’t really matter now because you had a passed out Mandalorian next to you and a very pressing problem between your legs. The thought of rubbing one out crossed your mind, but the embarrassment from getting caught would outweigh any pleasure. You hold your hands against your blindfold in frustration, deciding to get some sleep. You’d deal with the Mandalorian in the morning.

*****

The room was bright. Too bright. You shift to your side and face the wall opposite the window and feel an empty space. Wait. With a gasp, you bolt upright to find the room devoid of the Mandalorian. The curtains are pushed open, hence the light, but the window itself is closed. Maybe he didn’t sneak out after all. But one look at your side table had all the proof of his leave.

A bag of credits secures a note with the spare shirt he used to blindfold you next to it. Gingerly, you lift the note. “Thank you for the information. I apologize for leaving without a goodbye.”

Your heart fell to your stomach. He didn’t even say that he would see you again. Pathetic. You were so pathetic. Of course he wouldn’t bother with some random girl he made out with and whose bed he slept in. Maker, you felt so used. You had hoped to see him in the morning, but the universe didn’t want that to happen. It would probably be awkward if he had stayed, though.

Groaning, you step off your bed and test out the door. It opened easily. It seems that Zew’lon really did remove the stuff behind the door since the Mandalorian clearly hadn’t shot it down. You make your way to the fresher and gasp at your reflection in the mirror.

Bite marks. Bite marks everywhere. Bruises littered your neck, the top of your chest, even your breasts. It looked… horrendous actually. The purples and reds mar your skin as if someone tried to literally eat you. But a small part of you swells with pride. The Mandalorian gave you those marks. Last night. In your bed. Even though he’ll probably never come back, you at least had his marks to wear until they faded away.

With a smile on your face, you leave the fresher and get ready for the day, the Mandalorian lingering in the back of your mind.

read chapter two

[reeree1500]

Th Return Part 6

Disclaimer:  Not very detailed Smut (attempt)😂, angst, spelling and grammar mistakes😬 Also want to thank all of you for taking the time to read my series and one shots it truly means a lot :) Anyway here’s part 6...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 part 8 part 9 Part 10

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @calum-hoodwinked-me @oceans-daughter-3 @laketaj24 @peaceisadirtyword @cutegyrl927 @youbloodymadgenius @wuxiesalt @readsalot73 @camatsuru @cindy-exo @amy8220 @affection-rabbit @mel0nch0ly @queenofallthyfandoms @limbo-limbo-limbo @ragnarssonsbitch

19 years ago...

“Ragnar I have a favour to ask of you. One which I know I shouldn’t ask, but have been given no other choice.” Athelstan pleads with Ragnar deep in the forests of Kattegat. “ Athelstan you have been my slave and taken my orders without question. But you are now like a brother to me, whatever it is we will get through it together. Ragnar rests his hand on Athelstan’s shoulder in a show of sympathy. God knows how many times that Ragnar has been in compromising positions and Athelstan has been there for him through thick and thin. Looking out towards the rest of the trees, Athelstan’s breath becomes ragged. “I..I have a child... A baby girl. But I cannot take care of her Ragnar. I’m not supposed to father any children...” Athelstan chokes through his sobs. in this moment Ragnar is left at a loss for words. From what he has gathered from Athelstan over the years he knows that priests are not supposed to father children. “What do you expect me to do Athelstan? You want me to kill your child? Is she as ugly as you?” Ragnar tries to lighten up the situation. Athelstan laughs at Ragnar’s remarks, he knows that this is how Ragnar is. “I want you and Lagertha to raise her... I know how hard it was for both of you when you lost Gyda and almost lost Bjorn. This would be a second chance for you both. And not only that, but God would favour you for your kindness. Please Ragnar, promise me you will do this for me. I want no harm o come to her...” Taking a moment to think about his words, Ragnar looks up to the sky, as if the answer will come to him if he does. “I’ll do it... But she cannot know that you are her father Athelstan. As you have said she is in danger if people were to find out of this information...” Hugging each other Athelstan and Ragnar exchange looks. It does not matter where I go Ragnar... I will always be with you and your family.”

“Our family Athelstan... You're a part of it as well...”

Present...

Your POV

Thinking back to the conversation Ivar and I had earlier I cannot help but smile. Not only just a couple of hours ago had he asked me to runaway with him. I told him I would take some time to think about it, because of my parents and Bjorn. I don’t want to hurt them by leaving again without any explanation. However, I wanna spend the rest of my life with Ivar. He’s the man I want to be with for the rest of my life. He may be my brother, but I cannot help or choose whom I love... Moving to face Ivar on the bed, I begin to trace his jawline with my fingers. From there my finger trails to his plump lips and without realizing it, I licked and bit my own. Thinking of how his soft lips would feel all over my skin. “You know baby girl, if you want a piece of this you just have to say so...” At that Ivar grasps your waist and places you on top of him. His hardness very evident and the glint of mischief in his eyes tells you everything. “Ivar! What are you doinggg... someone can walk in a see us.” You begin to say frantically whilst wiggling around on top of him trying to escape his grasp. “Keep wiggling like that (y/n) and you won’t be able to walk for the next 2 weeks and we’ll have to postpone our plans to runaway...”

Heat creeps up to your cheeks and you can feel the heat take over your body in an instant. Ivar’s hands travelled all over your body, caressing each spot tenderly. Your body works on its own and leans into his hand which holds your face. As ivar rubs his thumb on your cheek you stare into his eyes and kiss the inside of his palm without breaking eye contact. His eyes turn to a cloudy shade  of blue, lust evidently taking over. Acting on your impulses you bend down and press your lips onto his. At first Ivar is surprised that you initiated contact, but he quickly recovers, Moving in sync with you, Ivar slowly gets up and flips you both over. His hands slowly making their decent from between your breasts to the hem of your dress. Parting your lips for a second Ivar looks into your eyes. “Are you sure about this (y/n)? I don’t want to rush you into anything...” Getting impatient and fearing that this feeling will soon be over. You take his face into your hands and look at him with genuine love in your eyes. “I wouldst wanna give myself to anyone else, but you...” At that you close the gap between you and his hands travel up to your untouched area. Feeling Ivar’s fingers on your area gives you a sense of pleasure you had never felt before. Sure you had pleasured yourself once or twice, but it had never felt like this. Ivar breaks the kiss and moves to leave sweet and savoury kisses on your breasts. The feeling of his fingers pumping into you and the fondling of your breasts is so overwhelming that you cannot hold your moans any longer. “Shhhhh...(y/n) they're gonna hear you, And believe me as much as I would love defiling you, we cannot risk it for the time being...” Ivar says into your ear. You wish you could heed to his warnings, but the pleasure he brings you is too intense. After countless attempts to get you to be quiet, Ivar flips you over onto all fours and pushes your face into the furs. “This way you won't be screaming so loud that the whole of Kattegat will hear you.” You grip on the furs and brace yourself.

Ivar continues his mist rations and your muffled moans cheer him on. However, all good things must come to an end. The banging on the door makes you freeze and you become quite instantly. “Ivar, leave whatever thrall you’re in there with and hurry up. Father says to meet him by the docks. It’s important!” Hvitserk yells outside the door. “OH! And have you seen (y/n), we were supposed to gorging earlier, but she didn't show up. I hope she’s okay.” At that Ivar pulls his fingers from your delicate flower and lets you put on your clothes. “Okay, I’ll be out in a second! Oh and believe me brother when I tell you that our dear baby sister is not as innocent as she leads on to be!” Ivar yess back at him, while staring at you and giving you a wink. Pulling on your dress quickly, you rush towards the door to escape the embarrassment and shame you feel at this moment. Grabbing your wrist, Ivar pulls you back. “You cannot go out the door, they'll know exactly what was going on in here. You must go out a different way.” He whispers toy so that Hvitserk will not hear. “Ivar there is no other way, the only other way to get out is through.. No! I will not do it!” “You will or would you like to tell the whole of Kattegat about us?” He snaps back. Looking at him in disbelief you shake your head and move towards the window. Leaning over you are able to see the bushes and mud that await your fall. 

“You owe me for this, I swear to God that I will kill you if I survive this.” As you were preparing yourself to jump, a pair of strong arms beat you to it and push you to the window. “Its not that big of a fall, just ask Hvitserk. He “falls” out the window all the time too.” Looking up at Ivar you give him the dirtiest look you can muster. He just grins back at you as if nothing were wrong and he makes his way out the door.

Now how were you gonna explain the branches on your hair and the mud on your dress to your family? “Well, this is gonna be interesting...”

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

Managing to take out most of the branches on your head, you finally made it to the dock. As you approach your family, you walk past the same dark haired boy who had just pushed you out of a window, without a second glance. And all he doe sis snicker at your behaviour, and this just makes your blood boil even more. However, you could not lose it in front of your family. You had been taught by your Uncle Rollo that keeping your emotions in tact was key. Never let those around you see how you truly feel or else they will use it against you. You could still hear his voice loud and cleared you couldn't deny the fact that you missed him and Gisela dearly. You stand between Hvitserk and Bjorn, just in time for your mother and father to turn around to ask where on earth you had been. “I had a little incident on the way here, I apologize.” A snicker is heard form behind you and you could already tell who it belonged to. “Why are you laughing ivar, this is not funny. We have a very important visitor arriving in a few minutes.” Father scolds him. Hvitserk noticing the tension and awkwardness building up takes off his fur coat and places it around your shoulders. “Here this way they won't be able see the mud stains on your dress, and oh.. this little branch here.” He says whilst chuckling between you. You thank him by giving him a kiss on the cheek and holding his hand until whoever arrives gets here. Ivar was pissed, he knew exactly what you were doing, but he would not say anything to you. Well, here at least. He found himself thinking of all the ways to possibly punish you later and that brought a hint of darkness and lust int his stormy blue eyes.

As the minutes went by a ship could be seen approaching in the horizon. The closer it got, the bigger the anxiousness. Hvitserk squeezed your hand multiple times to somewhat show you that he was here for you. No matter what. You had caught Bjorn giving you tender looks as the ship approached. You could see what looked like sadness in swirling in his blue orbs. You had thought it had something to do with Torvi. Her and Bjorn were not currently speaking and he wouldn't tell you why. As the ship docks you see your father and mother approach it together. Aslaug standing by Ivar, by herself with that usual scowl that graced her face everyday. “Oh how good it is to be back home...” “Welcome back brother!” At the sound of that voice, your eyes glaze over. Turning quickly you look towards the sound of that voice. There he was. Your Uncle Rollo, your father for the last 6 years of your life. Letting go of Hvitserk’s hand you run across the dock in a matter of seconds. “Uncle!” You scream as you jump in his arms and he spins you around. “My little angel, oh how much we’ve missed you. Frankia is not the same without you. The court is not as lively and the people miss their princess...” He says into your ear. “We really have missed you (y/n). I missed that smile and sunshine.” Gisela says as she emerges from behind him, cradling a small bump. “OH my God, you're pregnant!” Your excitement clearly showing as you hug her carefully. “Lets all make our way to the Great Hall, it will be more comfortable for everyone to talk there.” Mother says as she holds Gisela and helps her walks towards the hall.

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

All gathered together you recount and tell your uncle and his wife what you have gone through the past few months. “Oh my God, why didn't you send for us sooner Ragnar! I would've taken her out of here immediately!” Rollo yells at my father. “I was catching up with my daughter and spending time with my whole family! Something I didnt get to do because of you!” Ragnar says standing up. At that you stand and let them both know that you will not tolerate such words and that it was no ones fault, but whoever’s was chasing you. At that they both sit, but you could tell they want clearly rough it out. A moment of silence goes on and Bjorn precedes to clear his throat. Getting everyone’s attention in the room, but the sadness in his eyes has returned and he doesn't take them off of you. “The reason we called you uncle is because her life is in danger. And as much as we want to be close you, we fear that whatever or  whoever this is will not stop until you’re dead.” Stopping to breathe and looking towards father as if getting approval, Bjorn continues. “Another body was found dead yesterday. That makes a total of 5 bodies. And each of them had a carving, which we thought weren't related until we put them together. They spell out “THE CHRISTIAN CHILD MUST DIE” 

Which is why father and I have decided that its best of your return with Uncle Rollo back to Frankia...” Bjorn’s words slowly become inaudible. Your head is shaking and you feel as if you're about to pass out. Looking towards Hvitserk you see that his eyes have gazed over and a few tears have already spilt, same goes with Ubbe and Sigurd. However, Ivar’s face is stone cold. There’s a sudden eery dark energy that looms over him and you want to comfort him, but the way he is right now scares you. “(y/n)? Are you okay? What do you think about all of this?” Gisela asks you, she had always been the one to ask you how you feel in situations. She treated you as an equal and not as a child which you appreciated considering that's all you had been seen as, by these men. “I don't wanna leave my family. But, I also don’t wanna place them in any danger...” You feel yourself choking on our own sobs and Hvitserk pulls you into his arms to calm you down. “We will be alright, as long as you're safe. Which is why we have decided that it’s time that you should start your own family. Away from all of this madness.” By getting married you would not only secure your future, but your protection (y/n)...” You felt as if your heart was being ripped out off your chest. Hvitserk gets you some ale to help you digest the whole situation and starts rubbing your back. You thank him, and your eyes dart towards the direction that Ivar once stood in. You thought that he had left you, but then you felt a hand on your shoulder and looking up there he was. Giving you a look of compassion now, you were that this man was 100% bipolar. The doors to the Great Hall open, but you cannot look towards it as your eyes are transfixed on your cup of ale. It is then that your Uncle Rollo proceeds to announce who is at the door. “(Y/n), surely you remember Arthur Pendragon. The son of Uther, they were always at court when you were younger.” Arthur Pendragon, your childhood crush and best friend before Mira. “You guys were like the three musketeers, always running around and causing trouble everywhere you went.” Lifting your gaze from the cup, they land on his frame. The small little boy you once knew was now a grown and very handsome young man. Getting up from your seat you feel Ivar’s hand on your knee clutching it as if telling you not to leave him. However, you shake him off, not to be rude to Arthur and your elders.   Closing the gap you and Arthur embrace. “Arthur... Its been ages, how've you been and why have you come to Kattegat of all places?” “Can a man not miss his best friend and his fake wife?” I laugh at his comment and remember to when we got fake married under the Oak tree outside the palace. “In all seriousness we do have a lot to discuss actually...” He says giving you a smile and scratching the back of his head. In this moment Bjorn chimes in...

“(Y/n), we have come to a decision that it would be best that the man you marry is someone close to you and that you know. Arthur was suggested by Uncle Rollo and it seemed like the perfect fit.” Turning around you gaze at all of them praying that this is one sort of joke. “You and Arthur are to be married, my dear daughter. 2 full moons from today. And then you are to go back to Frankia to your estate...” As your father continues to talk, you feel the room spinning. As you try to find your balance your eyes connect with Ivar’s. Unknown emotions swirling in his eyes and you could tell that he was hurt, but his face wouldn't show it. Starring back at Arthur he gives you a sympathetic smile and thats the last thing you see before it all goes black...

[thedefinitionofbts]

Chaos of Fate (M)

Pairings: Min Yoongi x Reader (ft. Jeon Jungkook) 

Genre: Soulmate Au, Smut

Words: 8.6K

Description: Requested by @mintkookiev

You were seven years old when Min Yoongi held your hand for the first time. Granted he was only helping you up from falling flat on your butt due to an untied shoelace, it was the first time you experienced that pulse of electricity shooting up your arm, that tickle of feather underneath your heart blossoming as roses tattooed on your cheeks. It didn’t take long for you to realize you fell in more ways than one on that day. After all, his hand was the warmest you had ever held and his comforting voice was the softest you had ever heard. There was only one (1), single, solo problem. He was your brother.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content

A/N: So this was a bit out of my comfort zone, but I tried lol. Thank you for requesting :) 

Being adopted has its perks.

For one, you get scolded less often. The Mins gave you more freedom than you probably deserved, given that you were the younger sister of their only son, they rarely, if ever, made you the culprit of any situation. Anything that went wrong fell on the shoulders of your elder sibling. If you came home late, they scolded him for not making sure you got home safely. If you broke a vase, any form of reimbursement would come out of his allowance. If the two of you returned past curfew for whatever reason, he would end up being the sole receiver of your father’s beating.

Although you were never the type to directly express it, you had always felt bad for him, but he would only ever sigh and accept whatever punishment was in stored. 

They always say orphans either turn out to be an asset to society or spoiled beyond help.You clearly fell into the latter category.

Which is how you found yourself fucking Jeon Jungkook with the door to your room open while your parents were away for the weekend. It was their anniversary, so you knew there would be no one home, well, almost no one. In your defense, it was the muscle pig’s fault for slipping his hands down your pants before you had time to tell him your brother was right down the hall. He probably assumed you guys were alone; after all, you didn’t making any motion to stop him from ripping your clothes off the moment the two of you stumbled as a tangled mess upstairs.  

“You’re so hot” He breathes into your mouth, barely breaking mouth-to-mouth contact as he speaks.

“Wait, J-Jung-” You wanted to tell him. You really did. It would be embarrassing getting caught mid-sex by none other than your brother or even just having him catch a glimpse of you like this. He hasn’t even seen you naked since you were five, when you used to bathe together to save time and water, or however your mother used to put it.  

Jungkook groans before you have a chance to finish your sentence. “God, Y/N, I can’t wait any longer” He whines, tugging your jeans down and moving onto your shirt.

You glance at the door. It wasn’t wide open, and what are the odds of Yoongi walking past and caring enough to take note of whom the hell you were screwing? He’s always in his room for hours at a time doing god knows what, probably making music, so technically he shouldn’t be able to hear you guys either. “Ok, ok.” You unzip his pants and watch as he throws his head back with a loud groan the moment you grab his cock.

“You’re so good at this” He exhales, eyes still closed as you pump with a practiced expertise.

It wasn’t the first time a guy has said the same thing. You’re still staring at the door, torn between doing what you know should and what you actually want. You’ve done this with plenty in the past, and not because you were particularly thirsty for dick but rather because of something you’ve hidden for years up to this point.

You see, forbidden things have a secret charm. At least that’s what they say anyway. It’s like humans were designed to covet that which they cannot have. Unlike the illicit, lawfulness does not excite desire. Well, at least not in the way something that has been inhibited for years does. And that’s exactly what Min Yoongi was- the one thing you could never have or even think about really. It was wrong, sinful…disgusting. What’s worse is you’ve found that having sex with other guys was the only thing distracting enough to suppress your hidden feelings for your own fucking brother.

You absolutely hate yourself.

“J-Jung-K-Kook” You stutter as he enters you in one thrust, stretching you further than you ever have been.

You’re the one throwing your head back this time, biting you lower lip as to hold back a scream. He continues to move in and out, grabbing at your thighs and breasts and whatever he can get a hold of. You’re trying to concentrate on him, reminding yourself that Jungkook is your boyfriend and he’s one of the hottest guys at school. You know for a fact that any girl would kill to be in your position now, but a side of you doesn’t allow you to ground yourself in reality. That part of you that sides with the devil, drags you deeper towards giving into temptation, sin, that which is sickeningly wicked. She infiltrates your mind and distorts your thoughts, so that you lose yourself. 

The minute you close your eyes and relish in how good you feel being filled to the brim, you don’t see Jungkook anymore. You forget about what’s wrong and what’s right, how shameful your deepest desires are, and how humuliatingly pathetic you’ve been for years. You throw that all away and you see Yoongi, your older brother that you can never do this with, who you can never, in a normal state of mind, allow yourself to even think about doing this with, and you let all rationality disintegrate. You let it all go and imagine that it’s Yoongi running his hands across your bare body and massaging your flesh, Yoongi pumping in and out of you, dragging you closer and closer to the brink, and Yoongi whispering sensual words into your ear, those things that you’ve longed to hear from his mouth ever since you were old enough to know what a man could make you feel.  

“I-I’m c-close” Jungkook’s broken voice snaps you out of your thoughts, pulling you back into the present.

You were too, clenching one last time to force him over the edge.

And there it was again. The euphoric release that acts as a temporary fix for the thirst you can never quench, not even when Jungkook pulls out and plops on top of you before cradling you in his embrace. With anyone else, you would be ridden with guilt, but your arrangement with Jungkook was different. The two of you had agreed before dating that this was all temporary, and that there would be no hard feelings when the both of your turned 18 and saw the names of your soulmates.

Soulmates.

You honestly didn’t care about soulmates, but it’s the only thing providing you some peace of mind when you sense Jungkook’s breathing slow as he sinks into slumber. If anything, you just felt bad for the unfortunate soul assigned to you by fate. What would they think of your repulsive little secret?

The room was beginning to fade in and out, but just before you follow after Jungkook into the realm of dreams, your eyes trail to the door, still half ajar, one last time. Despite your clouded vision and blurry state of cognizance, you’re certain you see a shadow disappear down the hall.

…

You and Yoongi had more in common personality-wise than physically. Of course, the fact that you weren’t blood related was explanation enough as to why the two of you looked nothing like each other. He was a scrawny kid, almost weak looking, pale and delicate, and you were on the pudgier side up until puberty chased all of your baby fat away. Appearance aside, you were almost mirror images of each other, though neither of you would acknowledge that fact, let alone bring it up in conversation.

You both struggled with opening up to people, especially when it came to expressing emotions or conveying to others how much you cared about them. Growing up, it was very hard for you to make friends in school. You had a problem coming off as unapproachable, and you weren’t exactly the type to initiate conversations.

You can’t speak for Yoongi, but you’re pretty sure you’re introversion was a result of spending the first few years of your life in an orphanage. Not that everyone who grows up in an orphanage ends up as socially averted as you, but always watching other kids avoid you must’ve had something to do with it. Funnily enough, it’s also what you blame for screwing you over when you moved in with the Mins. Screwing you over as in growing attached to your new “brother”.

What could you do? None of the other boys at the orphanage helped you up when you fell.

“Get up” Yoongi’s voice is not harsh, but it is by no means tender either. Its just monotone, like every other time he speaks. There’s never any emotion, but for some inexplicable reason the sound of his voice had morphed into a tone that made you feel overwhelmed and comforted at the same time, especially when it came in parallel to knowing he was directing his attention to you.  

“I can’t” You stare at the cut on your knee that is oozing blood, watching as the red liquid trickles down your leg and stains the sidewalk crimson.

“Can’t or don’t want to?” He’s waiting for you, but you’re too embarrassed to look up at him.  

“It hurts” You sniffle, trying hard not to cry.

He sighs. Even at nine years old, he sighed the way older men did. You didn’t know what he was going to do or if he was annoyed by your clumsiness. Perhaps he was just going to leave you be and walk home himself, and you were almost certain this would be the last time he would ever agree to let you walk home from school with him.

Lifting your eyes to see if he had left, the hand that is in front of your face startles you, palms facing up to reveal how pale and smooth his skin was. Your jaw slackens, eyes wide at the unexpected gesture.

“Come on” He says, almost too gently. It’s first time you’ve ever heard any tenor of softness in his voice.

You reach out a hand shakily, positive that your palms are cold and clammy, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind. His hand is warm and his fingers lock around yours securely as he pulls you up.

“Let’s go” He says, with a slight upturn of his lip that is so rare you’re almost convinced you’re only imagining it was a gift for you.  

Little did you know, it would become an image that would haunt you for years to come.

…

Puberty hit you in middle school, and let’s just say it wasn’t exactly the smoothest of phases to have to go through. You remember walking down the hallway on a day you were feeling quite sick and noticing the other students, guys and girls alike, trying to suppress a giggle as you walked by. Initially, you had thought there was something on your face or that maybe your hair was extra frizzy that day, but you couldn’t care less because your stomach was bothering you all morning.  

You were oblivious to what everyone was whispering about under their breathes, unaware that you were the target of their secretive chattering, that is, until you ran into Yoongi during lunch hour and instead of pretending like you didn’t exist like he always did at school, he actually grabbed your wrist to stop you from leaving.

He stands their looking at you as if he was expecting you to say something, but when you don’t he just begins to take off his hoodie. You were confused as fuck as you watched him practically strip in front of you, but you swallowed the questions bubbling up your throat, figuring he would have to explain eventually.

“Put it on” He finally says, throwing his oversized article of clothing at your face. It wasn’t even a suggestion. It was an order.

“Why? I’m not even cold.” You flash him a weird look.

“Just do it” He sighs; looking around to make sure no one was staring.

You grip on to the fabric before it has a chance to fall to the floor. It’s soft, and it smells like him. “Is something wrong?” You ask as you pull it over your head, still perplexed as to what was going on.  

“You’re bleeding.” He says bluntly. “I-, ummm, think you just got your period or whatever it’s called.” This was first time he sounded nervous in front of you.

You groan. “So that’s why everyone was laughing?” You felt like shit, and now you knew why. It was so embarrassing, and it’s not even surprising that no one was nice enough to tell you before the whole school saw you and your blood stained bottom. You wish you could just disappear knowing that everyone is going to remember this little incident.

“Are you in pain?” He queries tentatively, drawing you away from your dreaded thoughts. “You should probably go to the nurse’s office. Do you need me to go with you?”

Hearing the concern in his voice was also a first, and it momentarily makes you forget the humiliating situation you were in.

“No, I’ll be fine” You respond as nonchalant as you could muster. “You think mom and dad will be mad if I just went home? I don’t really feel like staying.”

There’s a pause. “Should I call mom and have her pick you up?”

“I kind of feel like walking” You glance at him hesitantly, knowing that it was idiotic of you to even bring up wanting to walk home in the state you were in. You’re certain he wouldn’t agree, especially since that would only mean a scolding for him if your parents found out. “But yeah, it’s dumb, I’ll just-”

“I’ll walk you home.”  

Your stunned by his suggestion, almost to the point where you think your ears are tricking you. Yoongi is looking at you with a forgiving expression, and you’re rendered speechless by how clear his eyes look- how they twinkle encouragingly, comfortingly. You’ve never had the courage to look at him for this long.

He tilts his head, waiting for a response, but you can only manage to nod slightly.

Sneaking out of the school was also a first for you but clearly not for Yoongi because he seemed much calmer, likely a result of repeated escapades. He found it quite amusing that you kept looking back to make sure a teacher wasn’t going to run out and drag you back into the building, glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking and smiling to himself.

When the two of you make it far enough for you to relax, you opt to take the long route home because you had the entire afternoon to waste away now that school related anxieties were left in the distance. The sun was hanging high in the sky, but it wasn’t unbearably hot because the path you were walking on was lined with trees.

“I’m sorry you have to do this” You apologize, assuming you were probably just wasting his time and being the burden you always were, since he always seemed to have better things to do than talk to you.

“I wanted to get out of there anyways” He tucks his hands into his pockets. “And it’s not like I’ve never skipped class.”

“What?” You cock a brow acting like it wasn’t already obvious. “You mean you do this all the time?”

He nods. “Are you really surprised?”

You turn just in time to catch his smirk. “No, I guess not” Your turn back to the flickering shadows the leaves cast on the cement. “Where do you go?” You inquire, kicking at a loose rock lying on the ground and watching it skip a few times before rolling to a stop.

“Wherever I feel like going” He pauses, and you presume he doesn’t want to go into detail, but he does. “Sometimes down to the river, sometimes to the convenience store, or the abandoned railroad tracks.”

“Interesting” You nod, feeling entertained as you visualize the things he could potentially be doing in those places. “To skip rocks, buy candy, and play games by yourself?”

He laughs. “How did you know?”

“Wild guess” You answer with a grin.

As the two of you continue to walk, the dull pain in your lower belly was entirely alleviated by the fact that you were walking next to a version of Yoongi who was actually enjoying your company. It’s funny that you never really knew much about him until today, despite living under the same roof, because he was a loner and so were you. You find out that he’s getting into music and actually considering entering the underground scene when he’s old enough, of course, he hasn’t told your parents or anyone for that matter.

“So you’re going to sing?” You giggle at the vision that pops into your head of him singing his heart out with a mic in hand.

“Nah, I’m leaning more towards rapping.”  

You raise your brows. “Oh, wow…that’s…I can’t really imagine you…rapping… ”

He scoffs. “Are you kidding? I’m going to be a legend.”

“Well, don’t forget about us little people when you do.” You tease.

“Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.” He smiles so wide that his gums show, and it’s such a beautiful sight you can’t help but stare for an extra second before it’s gone.

It wasn’t long before you started feeling really hot wearing his hoodie that you had thrown on back at school, and it didn’t help that it was black and soaking in all the sun’s blinding rays.

“I think I need to take this thing off,” You announce, stopping in your tracks.

“Yeah, your face is really red.” He comments.

You grab the bottom and pull the entire thing off your head, refreshed by the cool breeze that blows by the moment you take it off. It takes you an extra second to realize that your shirt underneath the hoodie had latched on and came off together with it. No wonder the air was so cooling on your damp skin, it felt nice since you had literally been suffocating in the heat, but you hear Yoongi clear his throat and are immediately reminded of your current situation.

“Oh shit, whoops,” You laugh it off, as naturally as you can, hoping that he didn’t see much, but it was too late. You notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as you pull your t-shirt back over your torso. Are you sensing nerves coming from him? Or was it just the awkwardness of seeing your sister in nothing but a bra?

You don’t know why you’re enjoying the way he avoids eye-contact, the feeling of knowing he’s been affected by your body in such a way, even though you know you shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts. “Good thing no one’s around” You look around at the trees hiding the two of you from the main road.  

“Y-yeah” He stutters, clearing his throat again.

…

When Yoongi entered high school, you saw him less often. He would go out with his friends after school or just lock himself in his room whenever he got home. You’d see him at dinner and here and there roaming the house, which consisted of coming downstairs to grab a glass of water or food from the kitchen and then going straight back into hiding. You couldn’t really judge, since you were almost exactly the same way, and you didn’t really think much of it until you started inviting your friend, Jisoo, over to hang out.  

“Who?”

“Your brother.”

“What about my brother?” You turn to Jisoo, eyeing her more suspiciously than you wanted to come off. You knew exactly why you were feeling defensive over her curiosity, and you hated it. She had brought him up in every conversation since she saw him the first time you invited her over, which you are beginning to regret. It’s not even like they spoke to each other. He basically just nodded when she said hi and walked away, but Yoongi merely acknowledging one’s existence had that effect, you guess.    

She glances at his closed door as the two of you navigate the upstairs hallway. “Is he always writing songs in his room?”

You make a disinterested face, peeking in the same direction. “I guess”

“He seems mysterious” She smiles mischievously.

“I mean, if that’s what you want to call it.” You shrug, praying to god your best friend is not slowly falling for your brother, which she is, and you hope she isn’t going to ask for your help to get with him, which she does.

“You think you could set us up?” There isn’t an inkling of hesitation laced in her tone. How can it be so easy for her? Well, then again, she is the prettiest girl in your grade.

“Huh?” You’re putting in your best effort to evade feeling a bit defensive, but that clearly isn’t going too well.

“Yoongi and I” She clarifies, looking at you intently with puppy eyes. “Please, Y/N?”

You battle the urge to sigh and fabricate some lame excuse out of pure envy, something that would discernibly raise a red flag, not that one hadn’t already been raised a long time ago. Treading into that territory is not something you want to do when Jisoo is anticipating a simple response of agreement, but she evidently has not seen enough movies portraying all the things that could go wrong with what she has just requested. Isn’t there an unspoken rule that doesn’t allow you to date your best friend’s sibling? Or were you just bitter and unreasonable?

Luckily you settle for the latter. 

“Fine, I’ll do it” Reluctant would be an understatement if it were used to describe how you felt agreeing to her request, but you really didn’t have a choice or any plausible excuse as to why you couldn’t at least ask your brother if he was interested in your friend without being reminded of that you have a serious problem and it’s not going away until you address it head on.  

His door was opened just a tiny crack, wide enough to see that the lights were off, emphasizing the glow of his computer screen, but too narrow to see what he was doing, though you had some pretty accurate guesses. You knock on the doorframe, wondering if he can even hear through the large headsets that were coving his ears.  

“Yoongi?” You call when he twists around to look at you.

“What do you want?” He turns back to his computer screen the minute he recognizes that it’s just you.  

“I have a question to ask.”

“Just say it” His voice is low and husky, and it reminds you of how much you missed conversing with him. He hasn’t really changed all that much. Puberty, sure, since he’s right about at that age, but character and temperament-wise he’s still the same brother you’ve always known. He’s just taller and even more unapproachable that he already was…well, to people who didn’t know him.  

“You know my friend? Jisoo?” You pause, waiting to see if he’s going to display any sort of reaction, but he doesn’t so you just continue. “She was wondering if you’d be interested in going on a date with her.”

“Sorry, I’m not into her.” He doesn’t even turn around to look at you, but that was the one thing you liked about your brother’s personality. He was straightforward and never the one to play games. You expect him to be the kind to not mess around with girls, which is both predictable and not because he’s so nonchalant about everything, but you know for a fact boys his age have hormones to deal with, and for the record, no, it’s not something that frequently keeps you up at night.  

“Ok” You mutter, attempting to suppress the growing joy from his rejection of your friend. You shouldn’t be happy about this, or at least not this thrilled, but you were and you hated it.    

…

When you enrolled at the same high school as Yoongi two years later, you thought he would start finding having a sister annoying if he hadn’t already a long time ago. Since you both attended the same school, he would be forced to drive you to and from the institution. Although he never displayed any unwillingness, you were pretty certain he’d rather go alone. There was no reason for him to not find it burdensome, but he doesn’t outwardly express it for your sake…probably.

He’s already in the drivers seat when you walk out to the driveway, listening to music as he stares absentmindedly at the neighbor’s yard, one arm propped against the window, looking bored as per usual. Knowing him, he was most likely still half asleep, just like you, except you were stumbling out of the house with your backpack half open, struggling to zip up your hoodie.

“You’re really going to wear that?” His words startle you, causing you to look down at the piece you were wearing.

“It’s a hoodie,” You state, creasing your brows in confusion.

“Not that…the thing underneath.” He’s not looking at you, but you suppose it’s because he’s too concentration on the road.

“What? I’m not taking it off.” You peek at your tank top underneath, finding it strange that he’s actually concerned about you breaking the school’s dress code.

He doesn’t respond after that, and you don’t think much of it, taking it as a ticket to continue dressing the way you do.    

Besides hitching a ride with him everyday, you surprisingly also ended up running into Yoongi more often in school in addition to spending time with him after school, which was both a good and bad thing. Granted you barely saw the likes of him before, the change up was sort of monumental in both the good and bad way. It was good in that it made you actually look forward to waking up everyday and you, shamelessly enough, enjoyed feeling that signature flutter of delight just being around him. But it was bad, if bad was even a severe enough word to describe it, in that you were getting dragged deeper and deeper into that place you know you shouldn’t venture.  

During school hours, you would mostly see him in the hallways, walking with his hands in his pockets, earphones in, and more or less ignoring his surroundings. When other girls waved at him, he would scarcely display any kind of response, which you, again shamelessly enough, took satisfaction in. He was a musical prodigy, a star basketball player, and every ounce of the type of mysterious girls like Jisoo would fall head over heels for. But you would always know him as the boy who got flustered when he saw you in a bra, and the brother who indirectly shows his concern for his adopted sister.  

His fashion sense was ahead of his time, which was what you assumed to be the reason he was being so weird about you wearing a skimpy tank top under your oversized hoodie. That is, until you decided to take it off one day, because let’s be real, it was getting way too hot and school was out so it technically wasn’t against the rules.    

“Hey”

The unfamiliar voice causes your ears to twitch in alarm as you had thought the hallway was empty. You close your locker only to find that said source of the voice had already advanced into invading your personal space.

“And you are?” You eye the tall and muscular boy with disgust as his eyes dart to your overly exposed chest. It’s safe to say you instantly regret not listening to your brother.  

“Why don’t we find a more private place to chat and I’ll answer all of your questions?” He traps you against the wall; leaning so close you can smell his foul breath.

You lean back, trying to distance yourself to no avail. “I’d, umm, rather not” You attempt to remain calm and slip out underneath, but he grabs your shoulder before you can make an escape. Panic ensues, and you pray that a teacher or someone decides to show up then. Aren’t there cameras? This asshole can’t seriously have the guts to be getting physical here can he? You consider kicking him in the balls, but let out a breath of relief when you see none other than Yoongi walking in your direction.

“Get lost,” He growls threateningly when he sees you squirming under the large male.

“Whoa, calm down buddy” He throws his hands up, stepping back from you. “I was just talking to her”  

“Can’t you tell when a girl isn’t interested? Or are you mentally impaired?” Yoongi half smirks, eyes still shooting daggers at the horny freshman.

You keep your head low, rubbing your arm as the guy finally leaves, undoubtedly too chicken to start a real fight. It was embarrassing, but you were grateful your brother stepped in.

“T-thanks” You murmur, too ashamed to look up at him. You were about to tell him he was right about your reckless choice of clothing, but he speaks before you can find the right wording.  

“You should come find me if I’m running late.” He sighs softly as to loosen the awkwardness. “I’m usually in the music room.”

You look up at him astonished, eyebrows lifted and lips parted. “But don’t you like to be alone when you’re…working?”

He exhales, chuckling lightly. “Have I ever said that?”

His retort throws you off. “I-, I just assumed…”

“Well, you’re not wrong” He’s smiling now, and boy does it make your heart do things it shouldn’t. “But I’d rather not have to bluff. You do realize that if he punched me, I’d be a goner right?”

You burst into laughter, unable to remain straight faced, not when he flashes you that gummy smile you know all too well. “I would’ve at least jumped in to help. But yeah, we’d both get crushed. Pretty sure that guy’s built to be on the wrestling team or something. Gross.” You make a disgusted face, and you don’t miss the way Yoongi smiles to himself, pleased by your response.

You never imagined you would be spending even more time with your brother than the drive to and from school, let alone be following him around in his most private of moments. Music was always his thing, so personal that you never really got to see that side of him, always observing him behind closed doors your whole life. You knew your parents were against it, or at least would be if Yoongi ever told them what he actually wanted to do with his talents. They were pretty traditional when it came to career paths and whatnot, so of course it was something he hid quite well. 

It was not until you got to see him in his element that you fully came to understand how amazing he is.

“So mom forced you to take piano lessons, but won’t allow you to be a pianist?” Your voice fills the empty room as he finishes the song, hands still lingering on the keys.  

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” He flips to the next page of his music sheet.

“I’ll say.” You scrunch your nose in distaste. “Parents are illogical.”

“Good thing I don’t actually want to be a pianist.” His voice hovers in the still atmosphere, afternoon light surging through the glass windows on the sidewall. Musical equipment from band and orchestra piled in the corner, chairs and empty music stands stashed to the side.    

“So what exactly do you want to be? Ugh, if you don’t mind me asking…” You bite your lip, hoping he won’t find your nosiness and ignorance when it came to music annoying.  

“Producer.” He states. “The genius behind the music.”

“And they won’t even allow that?”

“Doesn’t matter. When have I ever given a fuck?”

You grin at his bold attitude. “Well, you’re secret is safe with me.”

He chuckles. “I don’t really care if they know or not.”

“Well then, I support you all the way.” You walk over and sit next to him on the bench.

He laughs again, this time nodding ever so slightly and glancing at how you were confidently looking him straight in the eye. The two of you remain in such a position for and extended couple of seconds. You with your lips still stretched into an encouraging smile, thigh pressed up against his as you shared the small space on the cushioned seat. Yoongi with his dark pupils that you could never fully read but catch a glint in them that you want to think was a result of your proximity. His gaze flutters to your lips for a fraction of a second, and though it shoots straight back up the instant you notice, it still makes your your stomach churn with heat.

He swallows, slowly. “Um, would you like to learn?” His voice startles you from your daze, and you blink realizing his attention was drawn back to the black and white keys.

“Y-yeah, I’d love to” You clear your throat, praying that your cheeks are not as flushed as they feel.  

…

A few days after his 18thbirthday, Yoongi came home with a tattoo on his wrist, covering the area where his soulmate’s name was supposed to show up. Your parents hadn’t said anything about it when they saw, only shook their head in disappointment and the incident was never brought up directly. It made you wonder if he ended up being one of those people who didn’t have a soulmate because you read somewhere that those cases were becoming more common these days. He never commented on it and pretended like he didn’t hear your mother whispering with concern to your father, even though you knew he did.  

It was also when he started ignoring you more, and when those after school piano lessons/playful chitchat hours came to an end. You were old enough to drive yourself and Yoongi preferred to hitch a ride with his new gang of friends, Hoseok and Namjoon, who were also aspiring musicians and closer to his age. The whole thing happened so gradually that you barely took notice; especially since he was a senior in high school, busy preparing for graduation and college. It was just the natural course of events.

As a result, you eventually found yourself back at square one, barely seeing him around and rarely even getting a chance to hear his voice. To be honest, all of it was probably for the best because the more you saw him, the more your unwarranted feelings towards him amplified, and as frustrating as it was to deal with, you actually gave up trying to deny them because it only made it worse. They were clearly here to stay, and you just had to find a way to acknowledge them and move on.

You were a sophomore growing in popularity, especially with the opposite sex, and being able to attract so many guys was what caused your promiscuous activities to commence, that and your new plan of sorts to escape your problems.

You called it short-term dating, but it was really just fucking around…literally.  

Kim Taehyung was the first of many. You and him didn’t have all that much in common, other than the fact that you were both in the same year. He was an extremely looking guy, played the saxophone on the jazz band, and absolutely loved children. So much so, that he would volunteer at the local orphanage on the weekends, which you preferred to not think about because it would often make you wonder if he dated you because he felt sorry for you. But you guess it’s not really any different from you dating him just so you could stop lusting after your brother.

Ok, that was too far. You didn’t mean to put it that way, though that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.

At the time your parents and everyone else just thought you had just found a lovely boyfriend, which Taehyung undoubtedly was, but you really only saw him as a distraction from the real issue. It seemed to be working well, until you started paying extra attention to Yoongi’s reactions to your new style of life, as subtle as they were. You found it strange that he would barely look you in the face, even on the rare occasions that your family would sit down for dinner. He would always give you one-worded responses and act all bored when you spoke to him.

It hurt at first, but then you caught on to what was really going through his head, or at least what you started imagining and overanalyzing. You spotted the way he would stop eating each time you mentioned your boyfriend’s name and excuse himself from the table whenever you started going off about how talented Taehyung was, show off the gifts that he would buy you, and describe your dates with him in uncalled for detail. It was absolutely pathetic because for all you knew, Yoongi might not even give a shit about your love life, but you enjoyed his scowls of annoyance when your mother would laugh gleefully at your stories, and you relished in the thought of him potentially being, dare you say it, jealous.

And that’s when you fell into the cycle of evil; trying everything you could to get Yoongi’s attention. It was absolutely reckless and pitiable, but you couldn’t stop.  

“Are you sure it’s fine if we make out on the couch?” Jimin’s voice is timid. He was almost too innocent for your liking, but he was hot and captain of the soccer and dance team so you had to compromise.

“Yeah, my parents are out of town this weekend.” You wave it off as a trivial matter, leaning towards him again. He shifts a little, still apparently uncomfortable making out in public…scratch that, in an open, partially private space. It’s funny, because he was totally fine ripping your clothes off in his room when his parents were away.

“B-but, d-don’t you have a brother?” He nervously glances at the staircase; clearly afraid someone, aka Yoongi, was going to walk down any minute.

“Jimin, he doesn’t care.” You frown, a bit annoyed by how hesitant the kid was.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Yoongi most likely doesn’t care, but you obviously wished he did because you knew this was all a show. Taehyung, Jin, and now Jimin, they were all just puppets. As disgusting as it was, you secretly wanted Yoongi to see you making out with Jimin. You wanted him to see you making out with all the guys you were dating, had dated, and will eventually date. You wanted him to care, to be bitter, to feel a twisted portion of what you’ve felt for the last 10 years. You wanted a reaction from him, but deep down, you knew that was never going to happen.

…

Fast-forward to the present, and you’ve basically lost count of your sins. Jeon Jungkook was the fourth? You think at least. Well, it didn’t really matter because he was probably going to be the last. You had felt bad for wanting him for the wrong reasons, but you’re consoled by the fact that you genuinely grew to like him. He’s the longest relationship you’ve had so far, and you try to disregard it was perhaps because your brother had gone off to college and there was no point in putting on a display without your intended audience.

“Your birthday is coming soon, right?”

The question is as casual as it can be, but Jungkook’s eyes are void of their usual sparkle. The two of you are sitting at the kitchen table with morning sunlight filtering through the blinds, your bodies still a tad bit sore from last night.

“Yeah, a couple more days.” You murmur, stirring the contents of your bowl.

He nods, taking another bite of cereal. “Do you want to break it off now or…?”

“Jungkook, I seriously don’t care about the whole soulmate thing. We can wait until your birthday.” You look at him wearily, smiling because of how endearing his concern always was. Jungkook was younger than you, and maybe that’s why you’ve taken a liking to him. Though it would never develop as far as love, you’ve always found his company comforting and your relationship void of any kind of burden.

“I know I’ve never told you this, but I keep getting the feeling that you’re thinking of someone else when we’re having sex.” He probably doesn’t mean to sound like he’s calling you out, but his words make you freeze in place. A lump lodges itself in your throat and your hands begin to sweat. Was it really that obvious? You didn’t accidentally scream Yoongi’s name last night, did you?

“W-what do you mean?” You stutter, biting your cheek at his sudden accusation.

He lets out a small laugh. “Maybe I’m just overthinking…” He pauses, staring at the table blankly. “Or it could be because you’ll know who your soulmate is soon…”

His words relax you, and you chuckle out of relief. Thank god it wasn’t because he somehow read your mind while fucking you to oblivion. “You and the whole soulmate thing, I swear…” You shake your head, knowing whoever his soulmate is, he or she will have struck gold. Jungkook was sweeter than honey and although he’s far from mature, still happily carrying the heart of a ten year old, he’s more considerate and emotionally woke than most people in his age range.

When the two of you finish eating, he helps you with the dishes and you walk him to the front door. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and reaches for your hand. A habit of his before any departure, a reassuring gesture that whatever you decide to do from this point forward, he’ll respect your choices.  

“If you need some time to think about it or talk, I’m always here.” He intertwines his fingers with yours and gives you a firm squeeze.

“I know.” You stand on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

You watch as he puts on his shoes and walks out the door, turning only to wave at you one last time. “See you later?”

You nod. “Yeah, see you.”

You’re still smiling as you shut the door, but you sense someone’s presence the moment the lock clicks into place. It makes the hairs on your back stand up, and you’re almost afraid to turn around until you hear him clear his throat before walking past you as if you didn’t exist.

It was now or never.

“Yoongi” You swallow when he stops in his tracks, desperately clawing at the courage that is starting to slip away. “Last night…” You bite your lip. “You were outside my room.” There you said it.

Silence fills the air. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move an inch, and it feels like an eternity. You’re almost led to believe your allegation had angered him or had at least annoyed him in some way, shape, or form. It had to have. The tension was undeniable.  

He turns around slowly, a smirk already set on his lips. “Didn’t you do it on purpose?” His voice is too calm for the words that are coming out of his mouth. “Haven’t you always done it on purpose?” The last question slips out as barely a whisper.

You feel a chill run down on your spin, trickling down like melted ice. So he knew? “Yes.” You don’t know how you managed that answer because your mind is racing and you can barely breathe.

He takes a step closer to you, and then another until his face is a mere foot away from yours. His dark pupils are staring directly into your eyes with a hint of something you had never seen in them before…was it desire? “Do you enjoy tormenting me?”  

You swallow thickly, not knowing how to respond, but your head nods to it’s own accord. And you must’ve looked more defiant than you felt because the next second his lips are suddenly crushing yours.

His lips are tender, but they move against your mouth hungrily. You can feel every ounce of his own pent up lust with each swallow as he drinks you in desperately. It was intoxicating. You’ve made out with more guys than you could count but none have ever offered you such a cathartic release. The room feels like it’s spinning, but Yoongi’s hands clasp onto your hips to stabilize you.

“I-I’m sorry, this is so wrong” He moans into your mouth, nails digging into your flesh as he desperately struggles to control himself.

“Please don’t stop” You beg, grabbing onto his shirt before he steps back.

He bites his lip, confliction printed all over his features. “Fuck it.” He mutters, crashing into your mouth once more.

Your lips stretch into a wide smile as he kisses you, slipping his hands underneath your shirt and massaging your skin. “My room or yours?” You manage to ask in between gasps for air.

He stops, eyes regarding you with concern verging on fear, pupils flickering with the uncertainty he cannot avoid. “We’re really going all the way” It’s not a question, but rather a statement of disbelief.

You tilt your head impishly. “I didn’t fuck all those guys for nothing, you know?”

He smirks at your sass. “Yours then. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to fuck you on your own bed like all of those other guys. Last night was torture.” His blunt confession only arouses you more.

“Then you’ll be glad to know I’ve imagined it was you every single time.” You feel your cheeks heat up, but you’re far too excited to get all shy now.

The trip upstairs did not take long. After all, you made the same one about a million times now. The cool air greets you the moment you knock through the door. Goosebumps form on your arms and legs, but your core is radiating with heat. Your clothes were off in seconds, but unrolling a condom over his length actually took longer than normal as your hands were trembling at the sight of it’s swelling. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Despite having imagined this in your head hundreds of times and dreamed about what it would feel like, nothing could’ve prepared you for the real thing. With his eyes glued on you as he caged you under him, breathing heavily, it was more than apparent that he was still running through an internal debate. The way he paused at your dripping entrance for long enough to make you wonder if he was going to change his mind was indication enough that he was tearing himself in two.

“Do it” You insist, lifting you head to kiss him again. “Please” You resort to begging, aware that you would literally die of deprivation if he decided to stop now.    

His features relax, and you can feel his tip slowly slip inside. He pauses after the first inch, exhaling at the blissful sensation. You feel yourself stretch as he slips in deeper, and soon he was completely inside, throwing his head back in pleasure.  

“Y/N” He moans lowly, squeezing his eyes shut. You could tell he was relishing in the feeling of your walls closing around him while simultaneously being eaten alive by shame.

“This is so wrong” He breathes out, repeating the words that have be replaying in his mind over and over as he attempts to fight the urge to thrust, leaning back over you, a shadow cast over his face by his bangs.

“I don’t care anymore. Scratch that, I never cared.” You state firmly, gazing into his eyes and watching them soften as you lift a hand to cup his cheek. “I love you, Yoongi.”

He begins to move, slowly at first and then picking up speed. “I’m your fucking brother.” He growls. “Of course you love me.” He smirks again, admiring how disheveled you look because of him pushing himself balls deep into you and then pulling out repeatedly.

“I-I’ve .. n-nnever.. seen y-you as a b-brother” You gasp in between his thrusts. “W-we’re not…e-even…r-related.”

You hear him grunt, almost angrily. “We’re both going to hell.”

“Good” You purr as you feel even more heat pool towards your core. You can feel his hands greedily exploring your body, like he’s waited to touch you for years because god knows he has.    

The pressure building in your stomach makes you moan his name, verbally doing what you’ve always done in your head. His movements become more aggressive as he edges closer to his climax and yours for that matter. Your high comes in a wave of intense hotness, and Yoongi pauses in his moment of euphoric release before riding you out with the last few strokes.

He collapses next to you as he disposes of his condom, sighing in content. You rest your head against his chest and sling an arm over his torso. There was no turning back now, no way to rewind and pretend you didn’t just fuck the one person you could never fuck, or at least thought you couldn’t. It’s a strange feeling, having actually done the shameful act, but you don’t feel as guilt ridden as you had thought you would.

You’re drawing circles on his skin, trying to think of something to say, when you feel a sharp sting on the underside of your wrist. You hiss in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi’s lifts his head to check on you.

“I can’t believe it’s happening now” You tense your forearm, afraid to turn it over and see the letters etched into your skin. “The soulmate thing.” You grumble.

“Oh, right…” He shifts his body to move you into a more comfortable position.

You remain still, hesitant to turn your arm. This was a shitty time to decide to appear, or so you think. “Did your soulmate’s name never show up?” You ask, trying to stall facing the moment of truth. “Or are you actively choosing not to look for them because you think it’s bullshit?”

He swallows, internally debating if he should even tell you. “It was yours.” He finally says.

His response makes your eyes go wide. “M-my name?”

“I was convinced it was a curse” He huffs a feeble laugh. “And I was most definitely condemned to hell, but I guess it doesn’t matter now…”

You turn your arm over, curiosity presenting you a burst of courage. The sight of the words draws a laugh out of your own throat. “Well, looks like I’ll be joining you in hell.”

You lift your wrist to show him the name in tiny cursive script:

Min Yoongi

“The universe is fucking with us” He squeezes his eyes shut, groaning loudly, half of him wants to laugh, the other is utterly pissed off.

You almost feel the same way, pissed and relieved at the same time, but mostly content. Content knowing he’s wanted you just as much as you wanted him. Content with the turn of events. Content that you could now love Yoongi the way you always wanted to, the way the universe had intended, and nothing could hold you back from now on.

“So does this mean we’re both cursed? Or is this what everyone calls fate?” You grin, crawling on top of him and playfully straddling his waist.

“Probably both” He sighs, smiling genuinely as he gazes into your eyes, hands landing back on your hips.

You lean back down to kiss him, cupping his face longingly. “Let’s make up for lost time then.”

You can feel his lips stretch against yours. “10 years right?”

“Sounds about right.”

...

[mari-matsu]

Shelter Special Chapter

~Special pt. 1~

“Alright, so why are we the only ones gathered over here?” Kataoka asked in a hushed whisper, only because Rio insisted on it, as she cast wondering eyes to the side where the male members of the E-class was at. She briefly observed them laugh, talk, or remain stoically silent, before drifting her eyes back to attention. Her brow had quirked up as she observed the blonde across the circular table. “Also, has anyone seen (Y/N)-chan yet?”

At her words, a mumble of no rose over the group before it hushed into silence. Rio took this as a chance to say, “I have called you all here because we have an important mission to do.” She then rubbed her hands maliciously, as if she was ready to commit a crime. “We need to plan this to the last detail. Which is why I had the guys stay over there, they were going to be a distraction.” And the look in her eyes made a handful of the girls wary over this mission.

“But what is it that we have to do? You can’t just expect us to agree when we don’t know anything.” Yada commented before sipping her shake and Rio mildly rolled her eyes.

“I was getting to that,” Then she gave off a wide grin- paused for dramatic effect- before exclaiming, “We’re going to play cupid!” And she expectantly wiggled her hands as she waited for their reactions. But upon seeing blank stares around, Rio sighed before saying, “Come on, it’s going to be fun. Plus, wouldn’t you guys want to proudly say that you brought these two people together during their wedding?” The playful tone she used brought the rest of the girls to be curious. Just who did Rio want together?

So Kanzaki took the initiative to ask her. Rio turned on her then with a bright grin, “(Y/N)-chan of course!” She said with a clap of her hands. At that a rise of understanding noises came from the group, seeing as how you’re the only girl not included in this talk, before it hushed into confusion. Hinata asked who they were going to pair you up with and Rio smirked, “Sugino-kun.”

A sudden shout of indignation sounded from the gymnast, “No offense to Sugino-kun but I don’t agree on (Y/N)-chan marrying him.” And upon Hinata’s words, Rio cried in outrage as a mumble of agreement resounded in a handful of girls. The blonde asked her for her reasons and Hinata stood up, hands on her waist as she said, “Because I think that Isogai-kun would be better for her!”

And a round of dismay began as Hayami quietly agreed with her, “No, and no, if it’s anyone it should be Karma. Have you seen the way he’s interacting with her lately? It’s gotta be him!” Kayano interjected and Hinano nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Instantly after that, Okuda and Kanzaki expressed their thoughts on how you should end up with Nagisa, while Kataoka and Yada pointed out that Maehara would benefit with having a nice girlfriend.

As the exchange happened, Rio frowned at the different opinions that were being said. She intended for everyone to just agree with her since she thought Sugino was the best choice, but she didn’t expect her friends thinking differently. In her eyes, Sugino was the boyfriend for you and teasing material for Rio, and Rio stood up to exclaim her own thoughts, when all of a sudden, Yuzuki began to chuckle at the mini-fight.

“You guys are thinking about this wrong,” Yuzuki said, hand under her chin as she striked a thoughtful pose. Gathering the girl’s attention, she then smirked before saying, “While all of those guys would be great for (Y/N)-chan, there’s only one who currently likes her the most. Judging by the way he’s always looking at her, and how he’s always making sure to greet her every morning, it can only be him.” Then she made a show of whipping her hand out, like she was fluttering an imaginary cape, before stating, “The perfect man for (Y/N)-chan is,” Pause for dramatic effect as everyone inclined to listen, “SUGINO-KUN!” And when she extravagantly pointed to the baseball lover, an outburst of disagreement started from the girls except for Rio. She had excitedly grinned as she gave Yuzuki a high-five.

“So what if he does all that? Maehara does the same and he’s going to end up with her!” shouted Yada and Kataoka, rising up to their feet. Hinano and Kayano joined in a heartbeat later with their support for Karma, and Hinata jumped in to the fray with Hayami giving out her powerful inputs every now and then for Isogai. Manami and Kanzaki remained sitting, voices soft as they countered back for Nagisa, but their emotions were clearly expressed on their features. Everyone was determined as they debated. It seemed like your friends had thought about whom you should end up with.

As this went on in the girls’ table, the males curiously looked up at the ruckus they were making. As they pondered over what the hell the girls were going on about, Isogai asked out loud, “Is anyone up to asking them what’s wrong?” A moment of silence settled over the men before they simultaneously called out no. Isogai sighed at the response before resuming his talk with Maehara. Although he had asked, he didn’t quite have the intention of including himself in what could potentially kill him. So the pleasant and chill atmosphere that had wrapped around the boys prior to the question came back again.

“Okay! We all clearly have different ideas!” Rio shouted, stepping up on the table to stop the verbal fight. When the cries died down, Rio set her eyes in determination and said, “I wanted to use this day to get Sugino-kun and (Y/N)-chan together, but let’s do this instead. We’ll have (Y/N)-chan spend one hour with the guy that we support! By the end of the day, whichever guy she had the most fun with will be the guy she dates. Agreed?”

At the proposal, a spark of challenge burned in the girls’ eyes and they all nodded in sync. In their fired up hearts, they thought that this was the best way to settle the debate that took hold of them. With that, they exchanged a competitive smirk before separating into their determined teams, a burning aura around them.

Hara and Kirara, who had refrained from speaking during the fight, just let out a sigh. Hara came because she expected a food outing with everyone, while Kirara didn’t even want to be present. That said the girls gave each other an empathetic look before getting up together to wander around, making sure to stay away from the competition the others have made.

 ~*~*~*~

 “Mom, Dad, I’m leaving!” You shouted as you hurriedly took off your apron. You then slung your bag over your shoulder before quirking an eyebrow up at the lack of response from your parents. Turning in an agitated manner, you gave your co-worker and friend a questioning look. “Where are my mom and dad?” You asked as you waited mildly impatient for the other to finish ringing up a bag of cookies.

“They’re in the back getting more supplies. They said come back before six so you have enough time.” The other curtly replied and you frowned when he gave you a blank look. He then smiled politely at the customer next in line and your frown deepened. You eyes the way the tan male ignored you, his long tied up silver hair swaying behind him as he moved to satisfy the customer’s requests.

Huffing, you said, “Gin, why are you always so cold to me?” And Gin, with his cold purple eyes, merely gave you another blank stare before passing you a bag filled to the brim with cookies. Instantly smiling, you beamed up at your tall friend as you took the treats and put it carefully in your bag. “Never mind, I’ll be off then.” Then you waved over your shoulders, politely greeted the customers in line, and then dashed straight into the crowd.

It was a Sunday. The sun was already high in the sky, beaming its menacing rays at everyone who dared to go outside. And that included you, the daughter of a well-known pastry chef and restaurateur. You were just recently helping both your parents manage their famous joint shops, the one you’ve been missing school for the past few days to help set up. It’s centered in the most-anticipated Sweet Street, which ended up being a whole area dedicated to food.

You were incredibly ecstatic when you first found out that your parents set up shop at a whole street dedicated to your one and only food, but you were quite agitated later on. It’s mainly because you made plans with your friends to meet up at the center square the day the street opened up. However, you’re unable to actually do so until now, when you’re a whole hour and a half late.

Grimacing at the thought of how incredibly tardy you were, you sped up your walk to a run as you weaved between teens, food enthusiasts, and families who were already enjoying themselves in this massive food court. You mentally referred to the somewhat memorized map of the place and tried to make your way to the meet up area, which was a giant fountain. It wasn’t that hard since you knew the way to get there, but the amount of people blocking and crisscrossing in your path was a nuisance. Groaning, you just sucked it up and hurried.

In addition to being so late, you had to be back at the shop in six or so hours. The reason being was that you had invited your friends over so they can taste your cooking. That way they can unwind before testing next week. However, in order for you to let your friends taste your food, you had to be back early to cook the food by yourself. Which means you can’t walk around and try everything.

You promptly teared up at the idea of not eating all that is to be offered, before you skid into a halt. You didn’t notice, due to your internal dilemma, but you had already made it to the square. Quickly, you searched for your friends and found to your sweet relief that they were waiting at the fountain. That said, you swiftly ran up to them with an apologetic and yet warm smile on your face.

“Hey! Sorry that I’m late.” You apologized instantly, “I had to help out at the shop first so you guys can come in later. I hope that you all don’t mind, but-.” Then your voice trailed off the moment your female friends turned to you. Morphing your apologetic expression into confusion, you eyed the way they were burning a fiery gaze at you. Tensing at the sight, you said, “I am so sorry. I didn’t think that you guys would be that angry.”

“Angry?” Kataoka said with a suspicious grin and you take a moment to step back. Yada quickly blocked your backing by laying her hand on your shoulder. Somehow, you felt like prey and you gulped when they laughed sweetly. “No, (Y/N)-chan we’re not angry. In fact, we’re pretty happy that you’re here.” The moment the words left her lips, you were pushed forward by Yada. Stumbling, you were only able to catch yourself when your fingers ghosted over an arm. You instantly wrapped your hands around it, and breathed a sigh of relief upon straightening up.

What was Yada thinking? You turned around to pout at your friend, when all of a sudden she was gone from your line of sight. Whirling around, you noticed that everyone else was gone too. Except for whomever you had a hold on. Drifting your gaze up, you find to your surprise, that Maehara was the only one with you. He grinned down at you and your phone rang at that moment.

“Have fun, (Y/N)-chan! We’ll talk to you later in an hour!” Yada’s voice came humming through the speaker when you answered it, before it curtly cut off then. A long drone was the only thing you can hear. Sighing, you let go of Maehara to pout. You honestly thought that you would be doing this with your friends. Turns out, you were going to have to tour this place with Maehara. Don’t get it wrong, you were happy to have your brunette friend. But you just thought it would be more fun with the others.

Turning slightly sad eyes to Maehara, you said, “Why’d everyone ditched us?” The sadness you were experiencing was enough to make Maehara’s grin falter. For some reason, seeing your dejected look made him dejected as well. It’s not like you, and he didn’t like seeing you… well, not you. So he did the first thing he thought would get you out of your glum. He poked you.

“I don’t know why, but what I do know is that I get to have a date with an awesome girl.” He winked and you rolled your eyes playfully at his successful attempt to cheer you up. Putting on your signature smile, you poked him back before gesturing forward. Taking the hint, the two of you walked aimlessly side-by-side since there’s nothing else to do. “Seeing as how you didn’t react to my earlier statement, you cool with this being a date?” Maehara suddenly asked, hands behind his head, and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine with it. A date is just a date anyways. Besides, that would mean that you’ll have to pay for my food.” And the sudden sly smile you had on made Maehara laugh. Of course, you weren’t bothered with dates. To you, they were just another outing. Despite the fact that you would go incredibly giddy when others go on dates, you didn’t think much of it.

“Alright, I’ll pay for the food. But because of that, you’re now getting the full experience of a date.” Then Maehara did his flirtatious smile as he said coolly, “You look very pretty today, (Y/N)-chan.”

At his words, you looked down at your clothing with a pondering look. What you were wearing, was honestly simple. You figured you’ll be walking a lot so you wore shorts for mobility, converse to run in, and your top consisted of a plain white v-neck with a vest to top it off. You weren’t really going for style, and had opted for light clothing, basically nothing that could be labeled pretty. So you replied to him slowly, “Thanks, but I feel like that’s a hollow statement.”

“I’m being serious,” Maehara insisted before swinging an arm around your shoulders. You minutely tilted your head to the side at his words.

“I find that hard to believe,” You mumbled out and he tossed you a wondering gaze. Giving out an apologetic smile, you told him, “I heard that you’re quite the playboy. Getting caught cheating five times, and flirting with everybody. You’re a womanizer, Maehara. Its instinct for you to give compliments mindlessly.” And upon your words, Maehara’s hands tensed. You weren’t aware of it but your words actually stung him.

He knew that he was a playboy. Maehara went around saying sweet nothings to girls everywhere and he wasn’t the least bit bothered when others caught him cheating. But somehow when you announced it to him, he felt extremely guilty and shameful. It’s like he doesn’t want you to associate him as a playboy even if he was one. Maehara wanted you to connect him to a genuine person who can be honest about things like compliments. He doesn’t understand why you of all people managed to make him this guilty, but you do. So that said, Maehara brought his hand down from your shoulder to your waist.

You pause in your walk to eye the hand around your torso before looking up at the brunette. He was blankly looking forward, obviously in deep thought, and you curiously waved a hand in front of his face. “Hey, Maehara, are you okay? You’re like really out of it?” You said when you suddenly got pulled closer to him. You blinked in surprise from the action.

“(Y/N)-chan,” Maehara began and you turned stunned orbs to him as he said, “You really do look pretty today… You’re wearing something simple, but it really just brings out the natural beauty you have.” And for some odd reason, you felt like he’s telling the truth.

You can only deduce this because he doesn’t have that coquettish grin, but rather a soft smile was on his face. Looking at the clear as day sincerity in his features, you found yourself surprised at the honesty. That said your cheeks lightly turned red at the compliment. From what you recall, no one has ever told you outright that you were pretty. “Thanks for the honest compliment.” You find yourself mumbling before smiling when you said, “Maybe you’re not as much of a playboy as I thought you were.”

Then Maehara laughed, pleased that your outlook of him changed, before saying, “I’m glad that you think so. But umm, don’t take this as a playboy action or a pick-up thing, but do you mind just staying in my arms for a while?” At his words, you raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless nodded since you trust his words. However, you did ask him why to which Maehara said, “Too many guys are looking at you and I don’t like the way they’re looking.”

At that you subtly flickered your eyes to observe your surroundings, and found his words to be true. There were these high schoolers who were gazing at you in a rather disgusting way. Finding a shiver wrack your spine, you unconsciously leaned closer to Maehara. “Yeah, you don’t need to ask twice.” And although Maehara chuckled at your words, his grip around your waist tightened to a protective hold. “So bodyguard, what do you want to do today?”

Maehara hummed in thought as he casually steered you away from the high schoolers, before saying, “It’s already noon and I have a feeling that you’re hungry. But how about we check out the waterworks? They’re supposed to be putting up a water show about now.” He suggested and you beamed up at him, even though you were denied food, as he guided you to the destination, arm still around you gently.

Minutes into your comfortable and light walk filled with a lot of laughter and chatter, Maehara suddenly tensed. You were in the middle of recounting a baking accident this morning, when you noticed his action. Looking up with worried eyes, you followed his line of sight which steely stared at only one person. Somehow, you recognized this girl amongst her friends. This girl in particular, hung around Seo Tomoya who was honestly a pain to you.

You can distinctly remember the way they interacted with each other, and you noted how it was incredibly intimate, practically romantic. And you knew that she and Seo were dating. Drifting your eyes back to Maehara you noticed the way he’s just blankly staring at her, as if he can no longer feel anything for her and you quickly nudged his side.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked quietly and Maehara snapped out of his stupor to give you an awkward chuckle. He then continued forward, not hearing your question, as his smile to you became forced. Frowning, you then said, “What’s bothering you? You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

And Maehara felt that was true. He wanted to tell you everything, kind of rely on you a little bit. But he didn’t particularly want to bring up that girl. However, when he saw the pouting look you were showering him with, Maehara reluctantly spilled the story. “She’s Kaho Tsuchiya, my ex-girlfriend.” Then he regaled the story of how she was dating him as a side boyfriend when Seo was busy. Maehara explained how Kaho dumped him right when she got caught by the current boyfriend, but he refrained from saying how he was beaten up. From past experiences, he didn’t want you to fret over him, thus he said nothing about the end.

When he finished, you were quiet. You instantly hated this Kaho girl and you wanted to march right up to her and shout at her for the cheating she committed. However, you inhaled calmly and decided that it’ll be better to just comfort him. Taking hold of the hand on your hip, you gently pulled Maehara forward. The male just blinked at you, confused, before the two of you stopped in front of your destination.

Jointed fountains sprayed water in the air, forming rainbows over the people eagerly throwing coins for a wish. Seven aeration jets sent a large eruption of foamy white water high in the sky, before it transitioned into beautiful arcs like a wave. The sight was beautiful, honestly one of the prettiest you’ve ever seen. But you barely paid attention to it.

Ignoring the sight for now, you turned to Maehara and held his hand tenderly. Quietly, you said, “I’m sorry for asking. And while I would go ahead and tell you that you shouldn’t focus on that girl, I’m going to cut right ahead to the end. She doesn’t deserve you. You’re worthy of having a girl that’s ten times better than her.” That said you opened your bag with your other hand before taking out a coin. Displaying it for only a fraction of a second, you then flicked it high in the air.

A small splash in the fountain notified you that it neatly landed in the water and you softly smiled up at Maehara. “I wish that you would find the perfect girl for you.” Then you cautiously wrapped your arms around him in a comforting manner.

Maehara, who was stunned by your actions, suddenly felt the world slowing down around him. His head was spinning and he felt a bit light-headed. Maehara’s heart was beating faster than he knew was normal and for a moment he wondered if he’s sick. But when you laid your head on his chest, his cheeks flooded with pink and he’s suddenly positive that he’s sick.

It’s the only reason. He never felt this way before so Maehara thought he’s coming down with something bad. This was the first time he’s experiencing this and he should be worried, but for some reason he doesn’t think it’s a bad thing, because through the whole sick-like symptoms, he’s feeling euphoric. Sickly and yet energized, and the guy can’t put his finger on it. 

A soft smile was on your face and his mind was completely frayed at that beautiful look you’re showing. You’re telling Maehara something, but the guy can’t comprehend it because he can only focus on your pretty smile before you turned away.

“(Y/N),” Maehara said and you hummed after gazing in awe at the display of showers, the rhythmic pumping of jets, as the fountain did its best to entertain the sightseers. “Why do I want to open up to you?” The words came out unintentionally, and Maehara felt astounded at the way they slipped out so easily. He didn’t mean to say something like that, but he felt himself unwinding around you. He can’t figure out why, but it was easier to feel relaxed with you... it felt easier to say what he wanted to say... and it’s a mystery to the brunette, but he accepted it.

“Hmm, what did you say Maehar- OMG LOOK AT THAT! THE WATER IS SO HIGH!” You became distracted by the streams of jets shooting straight up, a wall of water suddenly becoming erect in front of you, and you gaped at the sheer power yet beauty.

Maehara quirked a small smile at the sight of your childish behavior, finding it highly adorable. Grinning, he slid his eyes off of you and towards the sight of fountain. Moving his arms so that it slung comfortably on your shoulder, Maehara quietly said, “It’s nothing,” before pulling you closer to his side.  You never noticed the action as your eyes gleamed with excitement while Maehara’s shined with hidden adoration for you.

 ~*~*~*~

 “Don’t you think a dessert would be nice right now,” You suddenly commented as you swung your intertwined hands between you. Sugino could only nod as his face turned beet red at the skin contact. He couldn’t believe that you were holding his hand. Sugino can feel the heat emanating from you, how soft your hand was, and how completely real it was in his. And the touch was honestly sending him on cloud nine. Honestly, he could just run into a wall and the only thing he would feel were these fluttering emotions in his heart.

Bam

When Sugino had thought that in his head, he wasn’t actually being legit. Stumbling back, he held his forehead due to the sudden ache as his eyes narrowed at the pole he ran into. Annoyance formed in his heart, before it quickly shifted to embarrassment upon hearing your tinkling laughter. He moved to cover his blushing face, but found that your hands were still together, and his embarrassment turned into a mess as his emotions cluttered in him all over again. Never mind, he was being legit when he said he would still feel those emotions in his heart.

“Are you okay?” You asked him through light giggles and Sugino stuttered out an, I’m fine. You brightly beamed at him as you said, “I’m so sorry for laughing by the way. It was just so funny because you were so out of it that you didn’t even hear me warn you.” At your words, the baseball lover mentally chided himself for being so dazed. “Anyways, just stick close to me so you won’t hit anymore poles.” Then you gave him a wink before aimlessly going forward, unconscious of how much Sugino’s heart was pounding.

Fifty minutes have passed since you and Maehara were watching the water show (you were watching, Maehara was watching you with a stupid grin on his face), and you’re currently touring the area with Sugino. You can’t quite remember what happened, but one minute you were enjoying the sight while holding Maehara’s hand, and the next you were facing a nervous Sugino. Rio and Yuzuki then called you on your phone and told you that they needed Maehara for something, so they left Sugino with you as company.

You didn’t think much of what transpired you were just happy that you weren’t alone. That said you happily beamed at nothing as you looked for something to eat. You were pretty hungry since you didn’t have lunch.

While looking for something that would interest you, a brightly colored neon yellow sign got your attention. Stopping to check it out, your eyes lit up in glee at the words pudding largely printed on it with an arrow below pointing in a direction. Tightening your grip on Sugino’s hand, you said excitedly, “Sugino let’s have pudding!” Then you swiftly ran in the direction of the arrow, which lead to another poster, and then another, until you were looking at a brightly colored banner claiming that you reached your destination.

Cheering, you didn’t hesitate to pull the winded baseball lover inside the shop, which the banner was obviously pointing at. It was full, the whole place was incredibly packed and it didn’t lower your happiness, since to you it meant that the pudding was great. That said you hurriedly lined up behind a couple, eager to get your pudding. With eyes roaming the menu hanging above your heads, you asked Sugino, “So what would you like to get?”

His eyes flickered to the board in thought, after catching his breath from the unexpected running, before he said rather quietly, “Chocolate pudding.”

At his words, you brightly beamed at him, “I was thinking of the same thing.” Then the couple in front of you left and you strode up to the counter. “Two chocolate puddings, please,” The cashier nodded at your order before pausing. She glanced, discreetly, to the side and quirked an eyebrow up. Two girls, who you knew very well, enthusiastically waved their hands above their head and the cashier immediately started beaming.

Before the two of you came in the shop, Rio and Yuzuki had entered with a bunch of quickly made posters. They had asked the cashier and the manager of the place if they were fine if they put them up. Of course, the two were wary on why these junior high schoolers were asking of such a thing, but upon hearing that it was in an attempt to get you and Sugino together, they immediately agreed. It was mainly because the manger and the cashier were romantics. So with that the cashier has been keeping an eye out for you and Sugino, ready to launch you guys into a plan that Rio and Yuzuki made.

Keeping her excitement, the cashier said, “Excuse me, instead of two chocolate puddings how about one? We have an offer for couples to get one large pudding and it costs less than what two separate ones would. What do you say?” She offered and she grinned at the bright eyes you had upon hearing it.

“One pudding?” Sugino gaped in disbelief and his heart raced at the thought of you sharing with him. Then, as if he was suddenly hit by it, Sugino staggered back when he thought of something. Sharing one food meant… Indirect Kiss?! His internal dilemma went by unnoticed by you as you happily agreed to the cashier’s words. In return, the lady grinned at the sight of Sugino being a sudden stuttering mess.

“Alright then, one couple’s chocolate pudding coming up,” She then explained what the total was and you nodded in thought. You reached for a hand to your bag when Sugino took that time to break out of his stupor. Quickly acting, he whipped out his other hand, keeping your hands still together, and then pulled out his wallet. Although he was still freaking out over the sharing bit, he was still conscious enough to act like a gentleman.

That said, before you could protest, Sugino had pulled out enough money to cover up the expenses. The lady internally cheered for the brave actions of the baseball lover before excusing herself to get the dessert. While she was gone, you turned to Sugino with a mild pout, “I could’ve paid for it you know. It wouldn’t have been a problem.”

Then Sugino managed to give you a smile, as he said abashedly, “I have to do this for you. Otherwise, what kind of a guy am I?”

Without missing a beat, you said, “You would still be the guy I know and love, Sugino.” Then you tore your gaze away from him as the cashier came back with the large pudding and one plastic spoon. Clapping your hands, you broke away from Sugino to retrieve the dessert as the baseball lover stood rigid upon your words. You would still be the guy I know and love… Still be the guy… I love.

His face exploded in red and he found his heart beat pumping faster and faster, as you searched for a table to sit at. Like it was mentioned before, the place was packed, but fortunately there was one table in the corner that was completely free. Eagerly directing Sugino to it, you sat down and waited for Sugino to do the same. However, he hesitated.

The table you chose was specifically made to get two people to interact with each other. It was small, which meant that your knees would constantly be brushing together and that you would be so close, even closer since the two of you were sharing. Immediately, Sugino got flustered as you pulled him down to the seat across from you, since he wasn’t moving at all.

“Sugino, you’ve been pretty stiff lately.” You commented as you delicately held a plastic spoon between your fingers, and you glanced up at him, oblivious of the blush on his cheeks. “Just let lose, have fun. It’s a day where we can just eat and laugh.” Then you smiled as you spooned some pudding on the utensil, “Here, try some it’ll help you unwind.” And Sugino’s heart hammered even more when you hovered the spoon next to his lips.

In the corner, a little ways away from the two of you, Rio and Yuzuki were clasping their hands together in anticipation. The manager of the shop, who was the one who purposefully left that seat open just for the two of you, joined the girls as she held in a baited breath. The cashier lady couldn’t focus on you two since she had a customer to tend to, but her eyes continuously darted over to check on you both. All four of them had one thought in their minds. Eat the pudding Sugino!

Sugino was still feeling his emotions skyrocket and was seriously debating on whether or not to eat the dessert. However, he made up his mind the moment you brightly smiled at him. He just couldn’t deny you. That said he hesitantly leaned forward before opening his mouth to eat the dessert. His eyes were tightly closed shut as he does so and he soon tasted rich chocolate.

You giggled at the rather adorable action your friend made, before asking him, “Was it good?” And when Sugino nodded, you didn’t hesitate to spoon out some pudding and taking a bite with the same spoon. Your eyes widened and you found yourself melting at the taste, “Oh my god, this is heaven!” And you quickly took two more bites before holding more out for Sugino.

The male couldn’t take another bite because he practically fainted at the spot.

“Eh? Sugino? Are you okay?” You carefully dropped the spoon as your eyes dilated to worry, “Sugino? Hey, Sugino come one speak to me. Sugino!” Rio and Yuzuki gave each other high fives as they squealed next to the manager of the shop, who was gushing along with them. The cashier can only hold in her delighted squeals at the sight, before focusing on the next customers. The manager and cashier didn’t know who the two of you were, but they were completely rooting for your relationship.

“Someone, I need some help, my friend fainted!”

 ~*~*~*~

 “And that’s when Rio and Yuzuki came in to take him away. They said something about success and then they were gone… So then Manami and Kanzaki came up to me and took me away. And now here I am,” You chuckled before stopping completely to gaze worriedly at the pavement. Nagisa paused in eating his ice-cream to furrow his brows. You weren’t happy, and you weren’t smiling, that immediately made Nagisa have this urge to cheer you up.

That said he instinctively held your hand in a comforting manner, “He’ll be fine. Sugino isn’t the kind who’ll fall that easily. You’ll see him up and healthy in no time.” And you smile weakly at him before straightening up. He’s right, you’re friend was a strong guy. Sugino will be alright. Reassured, you softly smiled at Nagisa before laughing.

Nagisa tilted his head at the sudden burst of laughter, and you answered his silent question by gesturing to his clothes, “Nagisa, we’re wearing couple outfits.” You then let out another wave of giggles as said male blushed in an abashed manner.

Like you said, the two of you were practically wearing couple outfits. Nagisa was wearing jeans the same color as your shorts, and his shirt was definitely a v-neck. He had his hands resting against a similar colored vest, and if you glanced at his shoes, you would notice that Nagisa was wearing the same converse as you. The two of your outfits matched together so well, that you suddenly had a bright idea.

Beaming innocently, you said, “Let’s go around and get couple discounts!”

Nagisa was taken aback at your comment while his heart unconsciously sped up at the innocent statement you made. He raised his hands to calm down your suddenly mischievous manner before saying, “Wouldn’t that be cheating though? You’re going to trick these people so you would pay less.”

Then you grinned slyly as you said, “What if it’s not a trick?” Then he threw you a confused manner before you clarified with, “Nagisa, let’s be a couple for today.” Your bluenette friend immediately grew flustered at your statement, and he waved his hands in front of him actively. You gave him an impish grin, “It’s only going to be today. Come on. Let’s have some fun while we’re at it!”

Nagisa shook his head and said, “No, (Y/N)-chan. We’re not going to trick these hardworking people.” Then you ultimately sighed, having already understood what his answer would be. But hey, you thought it might be worth a shot. So you then linked your arms together, like you usually do, before absentmindedly walking forward, but a smile was on your face at the small and playful banter you just had.

Your bluenette friend eyed the way you were walking in high spirits, and inaudibly sighed in relief. He liked seeing you happy. It always warmed his heart knowing that you’ll remain positive and joyful. It’s like you’re wrapping him in a protective hug with every soft smile you make, and your laugh was a comfort to him. To Nagisa, you were like his beacon of happiness and he would be seriously cheerless when your bright light flickered off. That said he was so glad that you were smiling again.

“Hmm, so what do you want to today?” You asked out of the blue and Nagisa blinked at the ice cream he was still holding. The two of you already ate, at least Nagisa knew you did from the story you told him a minute ago. Thus, you both weren’t up for another food outing, and the two of you weren’t particularly geared to do anything else. So with nothing to do, Nagisa settled for small talk.

Directing you to a bench under the shade of a tree, Nagisa said, “(Y/N)-chan, if you don’t mind me asking, why were you so late this morning?” The two of you then quietly sat together in the park the food center had.

“You know that my parents have a store here, right? Well, I had to help them out since they didn’t expect the large influx of customers. They had to call in the others before I could go. Sorry about that, I know that you guys were all waiting for me.” You mumbled sheepishly and Nagisa smiled understandingly.

“It’s fine. You were needed there; there was nothing you can do.” He said reassuringly and you beamed at him. Like with the rest of your past, Nagisa was quite aware of how you were the daughter of a famous restaurateur and pastry chef long before your classmates did. He knew the responsibilities you had and that those were the reasons you’ve been missing out on school last week. And he was completely understanding with that knowledge.

“Yeah… Oh Gin gave me some cookies by the way,” You noted before taking out the bag of treats. “I almost forgot about it. Here, we can share it.” Then you opened up the bag and an aroma of vanilla wrapped around you. You smiled at the scent before reaching in and taking one to offer it to Nagisa. The male gratefully accepted, heart unknowingly skipping a beat when your fingers brushed his, before nibbling on it quietly. “Gin’s really good at baking.” You praised and Nagisa laughed as he silently agreed.

“How is he by the way? I haven’t heard from him in forever.” And at his words you launched to telling stories about the rather stoic male as a fond smile spread on your lips. Nagisa didn’t mind that you guys had nothing planned to do or that you were just talking. He was quite content just listening to you and your day. It’s something that he kind of started looking forward to after the assembly. It’s mainly because your eyes always lit up when you talk about the happy moments. It just made him incredibly happy to see you smile.

And as you conversed under the shade, Kanzaki and Manami happily beamed behind the trunk of a tree. They were quietly watching you both, not at all wanting to interfere. To the two of them, they were quite happy with the way you two were progressing. They were both quiet people, so this kind of interaction was perfectly romantic for them. Smiling, they just shuffled off to the side wanting to give you both space.

“So yeah, he’s pretty good. Besides the whole not talking thing, he’s still the same as ever.” Then a laugh bubbled out as you say, “I still can’t believe that he’s only four years older than us. Sooner or later, he’s going to graduate from high school and then be a world-famous chef.” And your features smoothed into a fond smile before you faced Nagisa excitedly. “Hey do you remember when we would force him to smile for us?”

Nagisa quickly caught on the memory as he chuckled, “Yeah, and he would pout at us before sitting in the corner. He was more of a kid than we were.” You giggled, completely agreeing with him.

“And then the times when he would glare at us because we wouldn’t stop laughing.”

“We had to give him apology cookies so that he would stop.”

“I remember that! My mom would wonder what we’re doing in the kitchen.”

“She was so angry at the mess.”The two of you shared a reminiscing laugh while you tried to calm down. Your stomach was aching and you can’t stop the tears of mirth from coming. These were all good memories, something that you deeply treasured, and you honestly loved how you and Nagisa can share this.

A sudden memory came on your mind and you breathed though the laughter to say, “Oh and the time when you cross-.” You stopped. As if someone had flicked a switch, the smile you had on your face, your melodious laughter, it all stopped. Horror was splayed on your face, and you quickly clamped a hand over your mouth. You can’t believe you were about to say it.

Nagisa’s laughter soon died down a minute after yours did, and he blinked curiously at the sight of you. “(Y/N)-chan, are you okay?” The worry in his eyes had you beating yourself up. Bobbing your head, you told him yes. But he wasn’t convinced. “You can tell me. We’re best friends.”

That’s why I can’t tell you. Because we’re best friends, I know that what I was about to say would have been painful. “Sorry,” You just quietly mumbled and your gaze drifted to his hair. Instantly, Nagisa knew what you were about to say. Changing the concern in his eyes, he slowly settled back on the bench, the forgotten ice cream beginning to drip beside him. You observed the way he remained quiet and guilt blossomed in your heart. “I’m sorry, Nagisa. I didn’t mean to. I just remembered it and then-.”

“It’s alright.” Nagisa said quietly. He shifted his azure eyes to yours and briefly smiled. “You remembered it because it was a good time, right?” And you froze when he got it right. “In some way, it kind of was. Before my mom really became strict about… the girl stuff, it was pretty fun. You would come by and then we would all play dress up. My mom was happy, you were happy, and dad would be too. It was a good memory.”

A good memory, maybe, but it ultimately led to a bad one. Frustrated at your ignorance, you balled your hand before casting your eyes at your lap. You vowed to protect your loved ones, but here you were giving Nagisa pain. “Can we not speak of this,” You whispered, feeling the guilt that you ruined this peaceful outing with Nagisa.

Your friend just smiled softly before grabbing your hand, “It’s alright if you bring up this topic around me. I’ll be fine; you were there to help me anyways, so I really have no grudge against this.” Then you shifted shocked eyes at him. He was just beaming gently down at you, grateful emotions in his eyes and you teared up a bit. “Even after all the stuff my mom did, even when… my dad left. You were always there trying to make it a little bit better. So it’s fine if you mention it, because every memory I have with you is a good memory.”

With that, tears clouded your vision and you silently laid your head on his shoulder. The rest of your time with Nagisa ended up silent, but comfortable. While the two of you won’t say anything out loud, you were both reminiscing memories together.

[mythlokisuggestion-blog]

What do you think of Tom Hiddleston and mcu!Loki?

I’m technically not allowed to watch any marvel movies according to one main-clause (followed by a very vulgar relative clause) in Idris Elba’s restraining order against me so obviously I watched them and while I obviously missed some of the major plot-details because Idris Elba wouldn’t let my eyes go I will say this:

Tom Hiddleston is clearly a great actor with a really great range and the entire journey of him losing his eyebrow-pencil but finding that Jeff Goldblum loves him nevertheless is very dramatic and gripping, but even for someone whose spectrum does indeed cover the range his does, it’s still visibly difficult for him to keep up with the inconsistencies of the movies and this is something that really affects the character of Loki strongly. Personally, I’d go so far as to say that there are only two movies out of the five that give Loki actually inherent development (as in: force them to make a decision of their own instead of just being thrown at the plot like a forgotten towel into the wind) and those are Thor I and Thor: Ragnarok. Obviously, I can see you argue that Thor: Dark World is about Loki re-joining forces with Thor to avenge their mother, but that’s just man-pain. Loki never makes their own decision to work with Thor but there is no doubt that even at their deepest, darkest moments they would have gone after the murderer of their mother. That’s not development. It’s just putting the character in a position where there’s only one obvious solution anyway. Character development puts a character in a position where we don’t know how they’d act and we either see them make a decision and learn it was the wrong one or we see previous character development come to fruition with them choosing something one wouldn’t have initially expected like I did when I first heard about Dirty Chai which immediately meant I wanted to drink Dirty Chai except I noticed I don’t like it so now when people offer to offer me “A Beverage Mixed Out Of Two Beverages That Clearly Shouldn’t Be Mixed?” I say no which is not what I would have said three hours ago. That’s growth. Asking me if I’d murder a giant who wants to eat children on the other hand. I would always have given the same answer at any point in my life.

The other protest you’ll make is Infinity War. But that has no development either, it’s just a solution to the development we’ve seen in Ragnarok and I almost feel like the script was written before Waititi had written his or maybe they hadn’t bothered to read it or maybe they simply didn’t care or they weren’t sure their audience would have seen that and just wanted to make sure that we’re all caught up and I found it really cringy for some reason? I dunno, I feel it could have been handled more delicately than just ticking off every aspect of Loki’s struggle that a series of inconsistent movies had thrown at them. Especially, and I know it’s an unpopular opinion, the whole: “We have a Hulk line.” Like. That’s the last relationship I cared about.

Things that would have interested me:

Loki and Thor talking about Jötunheim

Valkyrie and Loki fixing things up after their intrusion of her mind in Ragnarök

Bruce and Loki talking about the invasion of Earth and maybe resolving what had happened between them and Thanos to make them do that.

Loki reconciling their love for fruit-y cocktails with the overreliance on artificial sweetener on the Grandmaster’s ship

Maybe it’s especially the ‘of Jötunheim’ line that bothered me. Obviously, me being of Jötunheim the first Thor movie wasn’t a mere warning about the consequences of climate change (you thought Day After Tomorrow scared you lol?) but as you know there’s a not-so-ancient law of your people to abandon the children you do not wish to keep. (usually children with disabilities) and this actually ancient Loki has an actual ancient law that says Finder’s Keepers and Finder’s Raisers and Finder’s Cherishers of Babies Forever so obviously the whole storyline about Loki being abandoned by their parents did resonate with me deeply and that’s why it bothered me that it was the most poorly handed in the five movies. It’s not that I mind that I see the subject addressed although I wished they had gone out of their way to show that this was an actual practice of the ancient Norse cultures (and many others) instead of just making it a plot-point because I feel like it would have given their movie more relevance, considering that there were actual terms and practices surrounding it. Also, with Odin being a very unreliable narrator, it would have given the viewers a better context for what is true and what isn’t because many aspects of the adoption remain really obscure. It’s never really dealt with. I mean, the first movie explicitly makes the adoption the stepping stone of Loki’s story-arc with Odin handling multi-racial adoption so poorly that they grow up groomed to detest their own race to the point where even for little children the idea of genocide is acceptable and glorified. And obviously, the first movie ends with them throwing themself to their death off the Bifröst so in a storyline encompassing five movies that would make a good cliffhanger or maybe bridge-over-black-hole-hanger in which the next logical step of the narrative would be the confrontation with Thor about Loki being of the race they’ve been raised to detest.

And that’s where we get to the inconsistencies of the movies and how the affect Loki’s characterisation so much. We never see Thor actually learn about this. We take his word – nay, Loki’s assumption for it that Odin, a proven unreliable narrator, has told Thor. We don’t know how that went, we don’t know how Thor coped with that knowledge, whether he questioned his own behaviour, how it affected his view of their sibling etc.  We don’t even know for sure Frigga knows where Loki is from and who their parent is – in fact, her relationship to that secret is one of the poorest handled plot-points in the entire series but you didn’t ask about that so back on topic. I will later say something on the subject of between movies vs. in movies but what matters is: We never have that confrontation. We never see Loki deal with their Jötun form in the Avengers and you’re like: ok cut them some slack, they had to force a lot of plot between Tony Stark’s one-liners so actual characterisation of one of the like four interesting villains that give the MCU such a giant head start over the DCU (two of which they don’t even really own). And you say to yourself: Ok they’re going to pick it up in the Dark World. And I’m not going to go into the misogynist implications of killing Frigga, but just say we get a lot of narrative nonsense that is a) Fridging her to further Loki’s man-pain and b) leaving the main-motivator of Loki’s as a villain (the struggle with their adoption) at that dungeon shouting match, unresolved. It absolutely robs avenging Frigga as Loki’s supposed main-motivation for redemption of any and all meaning or at least makes it so obscure that we can’t tell its exact meaning. Especially because their sacrifice (and I will not get into the annoying idea that a villain must die to be redeemed bc I’m a villain and find it offensive) was also spontaneously changed long after the filming had actually ended.

And there again, next inconsistency. We don’t know whether they faked their death on purpose (and if they did how long they had been planning it and whether it was all a big escape-and-take-over-Asgard-attempt) or whether they thought they were dying which means that their sacrifice was meaningful after all but it’s once again not resolved. And I mean, I’d prefer to think it was, but still. Remember when I said I was going to get back to the idea of between the movies vs. in the movies? I get back to that now because I’m not a Marvel writer: The most interesting things happen to Loki between movies and not in them. I’m bolding this because I’m a bold person but it’s also the main-issue I have with the Thor-movies despite me generally standing on the side that they’re actually among the better Marvel movies, no matter what edgy Youtubers say on the subject, but just fall flat on the perceived intended audience (male fanboys who feel they could do and say anything if only they had the power to force people to put up with it which is technically true without consequences which is not true) because Thor’s main-character arc is about him overcoming the issues and character-traits as flaws that make many other MCU-characters so ‘cool’ and ‘funny’.

We get the same with Loki dealing with their heritage-issues. At the beginning of Ragnarök they’ve magically resolved them. Or have they? Or are they just weaponizing Odin ‘outing’ them at their fucking trial (which was also filmed after the movie was made) I mean, in a way I like that Taika Waititi focussed Thor’s and Loki’s reconciliation on them overcoming their main-problem of all movies – trust – and not the initial problem that had set them apart - Loki’s jealousy when they realised that they never had a place in their own world - that had been abandoned for so long now. Especially considering that what sparked even the revelation of Loki’s true heritage was their distrust for Thor whom they didn’t trust to be a good king – and were justified. All that is, for once, resolved with Thor becoming a good king and Loki trusting them.

So personally. If you had just ended their storyline there it would have been fine. Maybe give us the damn hug and some talk about the Jötun issue and leave it at that. But then Infinity War rolled around and I’m not going to get into the can of political worms that is killing of half a ship of refugees in the current social climate because it was a movie about killing off people at random for others to survive and that’s an entire swimming pool of worms that the can is just swimming in slowly drifting into the distance, but it was just. Frigga’s death x10. We didn’t need it, it addressed a new thing about Loki’s storyline that will never be developed – their relationship with Thanos and the actual factors motivated by it – and as always left it unresolved. Thor, being the supposed centrum of these movies – will never know about it, most likely. I mean, we’ll apparently get some flashback and time-travel in Avengers 4 but I don’t have high hopes that something will be resolved then and I hope we at least get a good moping scene from Thor. It’s almost ironically that while Thor doesn’t know about the exact background of Loki working with Thanos and just maybe knows we-don’t-know-how-much about his sibling’s actual heritage, he seems to know exactly how dead they are. Because these movies are so inconsistent that he got to straight-up tell the audience that Loki is dead when it makes no sense because obviously choking on a grape kills them and not being stabbed through the heart. Which brings me to the next topic:

Their powers. Me being an avid magic-user who can do everything but turn into birds I’m very interested in that. Of course, we’ve got this big difference between comics-Loki and movies-Loki with MCU-Loki being significantly weaker and significantly more knife-focussed. And that’s fine. But their powers are also so fucking inconsistent. As a baby they can pull off a full-conversion into an Aesir but as a grown-up they can’t even make a solid copy of themselves? Sometimes illusions dissolve at mere contact but when they cover themself with it they can hold for four years are you telling me that no one ever brushed against them for four years? What about their clothes are they solid? Also, Loki when he’s visiting Thor when he’s under arrest by SHIELD seems to shift between visible and invisible and solid and not-solid which is something that would have come in handy at various other places in the movies but wasn’t used. We know that Loki can turn themself and others into animals but again we only hear that talked about but never actually see it employed when it would be useful. Also being Jötun can they employ ice-magic because that shit looks useful or only with the Casket and why didn’t they take the Casket is it because they resolved the issue and don’t want to revisit it or because the wound is still open or any of the other thousands of things you didn’t resolve??? The aspect about this handwave-y magic stuff isn’t so much that it bothers me, particularly because we know that Frigga, the most relevant relationship they have aside from Thor, is the one who taught them magic so it’s not like there isn’t an interesting basis for this subject to build upon.

I mean this all sounds like a lot of complaining but it’s also because I really liked the character that I can actually be bothered to get upset about these things. And the thing is, sometimes I feel like the things that annoy me are the things the writers do on purpose and the aspects I like are purely circumstantial. Like that scene about them standing on a street yelling stuff about submission all-dressed in leather in a reputed to be rather homophobic part of a country? Iconic stuff. The fact that they wear as many layers at all times and cover up as much as they can? Obviously a common villain trope and a common decision but for a character feeling so at odds with their own body (a storyline you couldn’t be bothered with for four movies in case you remember MCU) just fuel for headcanons. That fancy leather get-up clearly hand-crafted with golden pieces added paired…with THAT wig? Iconic. Tbh reason for concern too. Like I see that Loki like 3 times a day when they go to that Lush right beside my favourite spot for arguing with pigeons and my hair still looks better than theirs even with the pigeons nesting in it. I’m not 90% sure that the whole sweaty Christmas Tree look Loki had in Avengers was all to make them seem more villainous or at least to be attributed to how ‘manic’ and ‘insane’ they are but actually gave people material to be super-detailed in their ideas about how they were tortured by Thanos which would actually be interesting. There are also a lot of characters that it would be interesting to see Loki interact with that they don’t ever share a scene with in the Bravest Crossover Event Of All Times.

That’s not to say that I don’t like their interpretation, I do, but I just feel like if they had focussed on fewer subjects and stuck with them through the movies instead of throwing new pain at them (and at Thor) with every installation the whole thing would have been more interesting and satisfying in the end. This way they just forced the fans to figure out stuff for themselves. I notice that I only spoke of Tom Hiddleston as an actor and not as a person and I want to assure you his restraining order is very effective too.

[jswdmb1]

You’ve Got A Friend

“Ain't it good to know you've got a friend?”

- Carole King

I recently made it known on my music blog of my love for WXRT’s Saturday Morning Flashback.  I didn’t post a playlist this past Saturday because I have been caught up in the year that was featured and can’t narrow a list of songs down.  My reaction to the year caught me off guard because I wasn’t even around for it - 1971.  Still, it was a fascinating year in the amount of significant and timeless music that was produced and song after song kept coming that really got me hooked.  That, however is not what this post is about (though I promise the playlist is coming).  Rather, it is about the song featured in the title to this blog that came out that year.  James Taylor had the hit with it, but it was initially recorded and written by his friend Carole King for her album Tapestry.  She wrote it in response to the despair of Taylor’s “Fire & Rain” from the previous year as a way of reassurance that no matter how bad things get there is always someone you can count on.

As I continued to immerse myself in the Rolling Stones “Sticky Fingers” and other songs from 1971 by greats such as Al Green, The Who, and of course John Lennon’s “Imagine”, I kept thinking about how King’s message contrasted so starkly with the times.  There was a war raging that was killing thousands for an unclear purpose.  Leaders and politicians were betraying the trust of the public on an almost daily basis.  Clashes between people of different races, genders, religions, sexual orientations, and more were on full display and sometimes violent.  Finding a friend during times like that must have been awfully hard no matter how much Carole or James sang it so sweetly.  As I pondered this, I took a break to see a movie that ended up putting some of it together.

The movie is a documentary of the life of Fred Rogers titled “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”  I am not going to give you a review of the film or tell you much about it because I am insisting that you go see it yourself and draw your own conclusions.  As a matter of fact, I think this should be required viewing for every single person in the country right now. While the movie is a straight-up biographical documentary, it beautifully frames his life in the context of a world that has turned quite sour.  It’s relatively easy to put the pieces together that what we are missing now more than ever is Mr. Rogers’ primary message of love towards our neighbors and to also love ourselves.

Now, many of you may already feel like you know everything you need to know about Mr. Rogers from watching his show as a child and find his sentiment pretty corny.  The movie does not hide the fact that his show was simple with low production values.  What will come as a surprise is how that simplicity and kindness was somewhat of a cover for Rogers to tackle some of the toughest issues not just of that day, but those that still affect us today.  A scene early in the film, which I won’t disclose to avoid diminishing its impact, was filmed as part of his first week of production in the late 60′s, but is eerily relevant to this exact moment.  When you see something like that, you realize that there was way more to what he was doing then snappy songs and sock puppets.  You also come to appreciate the pure genius behind his methods of delivering simple, honest communication to kids - all with topics others wouldn’t touch on or off TV.  

I also find it interesting that during this revolutionary music phase of 1971 was right as Mr. Rogers shot to popularity on a newly created PBS (which he basically single-handedly saved from Nixon’s budget axe).  The documentary proves that Mr. Rogers not only did not shy away from the volatile subjects of those days’ current events, but he tackled them head on to help children get some grasp on a world that seemed completely out of control in the hands of the rest of the adults.  His message was clear: I am here for you, I love you, and I am listening.  Essentially, he was telling kids that you’ve got a friend.  Again, the message is simple, but the context in which it was delivered was bold.  There’s a word that you probably don’t associate with Mr. Rogers often - bold.  I guarantee whether you agree with his message or not, I’ll bet that you come to that same conclusion that this man had some major guts after you watch this movie.

Still, as I left the theater, I couldn’t help feel absolute despair.  Mr. Rogers has been dead for fifteen years and any advancements we made as a society under his watch in terms of openness, togetherness, and civility have eroded to just about nothing.  Where are we going to find that friend on TV to help us through these challenging times?  I’m not sure that I have an answer, but I do not think we can give up on the message Mr. Rogers delivered his entire life that every person has something that makes them special and we should all do our best to find that in everyone we meet.  Personally, that is going to be a tall order for me.  My cynicism runs so deep and I admit that I get just as caught up as anyone in the divisive nature of our country right now that I find it hard to believe everyone can be good.  I also let my blood boil when I see politicians I hate do things that I think are wrong and get angry at the world and others when things don’t seem to be going my way.  I am frustrated that I have let it all get to me and don’t really want to let that go.  

Maybe, though, we don’t need to start with everybody or those we see on the news and instead should first focus our energy within.  I think a lot of the meanness, hate, and anger in the world right now is coming from people with a deep sense of pain.  The pain may be physical or mental, but there is no doubt that a lot of people really hurt right now.  To me, that pain then manifests itself into a rage that has to be turned outward to protect themselves.  It starts because we are fearful of loving ourselves.  We don’t want to look past what we think the world wants us to be, but if we did, I think we’d find that specialness we each have that Mr. Rogers was talking about.  Essentially, we need to shut down the noise around us and just listen ourselves honestly and objectively.  Once we do that, then we can start caring for ourselves and treating ourselves kindly and that might ready ourselves to do it towards others.  It seems to me that anyone who would acknowledge and accept the good within them would have an awfully hard time being too preoccupied with hate and rage towards others.

The next step would be showing that love towards others and being the friend Carole sung about.  As an old saying goes, you don’t need to change the world, just your little corner of it.  Start with your family.  Could be a spouse, your kids, a sibling, maybe a parent.  When was the last time any of us can say we really stopped to take the time to understand their feelings in these troubled times.  Carve out some time to spend simply talking about stuff.  I know that for me, it has become therapeutic to spend time with my wife and kids talking about a wide range of topics often over a meal.  I know I bore them to tears sometimes, but I also know I have been better about listening and trying to understand them as the individual people they are.  This is really poignant with kids as we tend to discount the fact that they have feelings too.  They feel some of the same emotions we adults have and need someone to listen to them just as much as we do.  At a minimum, even if they are just being nice and not really listening to me (a common thing, I’m sure, for anyone who spends a lot of time with me), I hope they see that I am always willing to talk (and more importantly listen) and will be there if and when they need me.

Of course, this doesn’t have to just be with family members.  It could also be with good friends, a neighbor, or maybe someone you know at work or school who just needs someone to talk to.  I find the best setting to do this is over a great cup of coffee at a quiet time of day.  When you get together with whomever you choose, let them do the talking and really listen.  One of the most fascinating parts of the Mr. Rogers movie has to do with the power of silence and self-reflection, both of which he used often.  It’s interesting to me how both can be powerful parts of a conversation if you let them come naturally.  It is amazing how wonderful it can be sometimes to have a pause in all of the chatter to process things and thoughtfully reflect on what you may have just heard.  And, when someone you are with sees you are not afraid to stop and listen or really think about what they are saying, it is impossible for them not to let them feel your love for them.  It’s the old less is more adage, but it is incredibly powerful.

I’d apologize for the preachiness of this post, but anyone who reads this blog (or is still reading this particular entry) already knows that I can’t help it.  I am really not trying to lecture, but to try and offer some hope to those who aren’t sure that we can reverse the trend of mean-spiritedness and anger that has become the rule in this world.  Whether this is inspired or not, I can’t say, but it has been hard for me not to feel the power of the connection between the music and times of 1971 along with the gentle message of Mr. Rogers that was coming along right at the same moment.  While both are long gone, the legacy of those songs and the endurance of Mr. Rogers’ message of peace, love & understanding can live on if we want it.  Maybe it’s too much to try and do it everywhere with everyone, but we can sure start in our little corner of this world with the people to whom we are the closest.  And, if you’re not sure where to turn, call me and I’ll be your friend....just so long as you are buying the coffee (cream, no sugar please).

Have a great rest of your week and please go see that movie.

- Jim

[cookignis]

Shitty Discourse Salt Mine

0.                                                         Let A Bitch Live

I’d like to start this piece off by quoting a wonderful friend of mine:

“How ‘bout you let a bitch live….”

Don’t like something on the Internet? Don’t read it. No one forces you to read/watch or fap off to anything on the web during your free time. As such, just because you dislike something doesn’t mean you get to make other people feel like shit for liking it. Oh, you don’t like the pot roast tonight? That doesn’t mean you can climb up onto the table and shit all over it, ruining it for everyone else.

Stay in your lane and just keep liking what you like without being a dick.

Now that we have that cleared, I’d like to say a few things on some arguments that I’ve seen. I’ll be covering a few topics in this piece.

First and foremost, we cannot look at the game’s history and events through the lens of only today’s worldview if we wish to remain objective. A lot of FFXV’s familial lore (the Caelums and Nox Fleurets in particular) is based off of medieval families despite the ‘modern’ or ‘futuristic’ setting of Insomnia and Eos as a whole. If we examine decisions of royal families within the context of their time and culture, there are many decisions that would be controversial today that have been chosen with the best intentions or what was considered the norm during previous eras.

I.                                                               Child Rearing

We’ve all seen this before: Regis is a bad dad who neglects his son and distanced himself. Once we’ve demonized certain aspect of a person, we oftentimes forget to see deeper into them; whether it’s their motivations or culture.

In medieval times, entrusting babies to wet nurses in country estates distant from the royal court was considered a necessary safeguard for a child’s health even though this practice might separate the child from his or her parents for months at a time. In most cases, even if the child was on the premises, they would still be taken care of by the wet nurses as this is the culture that has been present for centuries. Parenting skills weren’t exactly passed on and most would treat their children as their parents did them; sound familiar? It still occurs today, we learn from our parents and raise our children in a similar fashion. 

In terms of the personal feelings of royal parents toward their children, there were a variety of different kinds of relationships in both medieval and modern times. Such items are subjective and depends on the person at the end of the day. There are royal parents who took a close personal interest in the daily care of their children. Most often, royal parents took an interest in their children’s health and education but entrusted their daily care to others.

If we look at Regis, prior to Bahamut coming to fuck things up and tell him that Noctis is the chosen king, he spent a fair amount of time with his son (as much as a busy king could). We are able to tell that Regis did indeed care about and loved Noctis as he held him close and cried upon finding out the fate of his son. After that, he began distancing himself from Noctis in order to prepare for the coming days and deal with the ongoing Niflheim attacks. Was this also a badly handled defense mechanism to cope with having to send his son off to his death and possibly kill him? We say yes because again, we are going off of our perceived notions of what parental love should be by today’s standards. 

Could Regis have done better and done more? Of course. His decision for Noctis to try and ‘live a normal life’ was made with Noctis’ best interest in mind. We think it’s not enough because our judgment has already been made. 

Was Regis a shitty father who didn’t spend enough time with his kid? By today’s parenting standards, yes. But did he love Noctis? In his own way, yes. 

II.                              Royal intermarriages, Alliances and Estate Gain

Royal intermarriage is the practice of members of ruling dynasties marrying into other families of the same status. It was more commonly done in the past as part of strategic diplomacy for national interest. It’s a practice that has been done worldwide, from Europe to Asia. Marriage between families act to initiate, reinforce or guarantee peace between countries.

As the lines continued on, over time, because of the relatively limited number of potential partners, the gene pool of many ruling families grew progressively smaller, until all European royalty were eventually related. As such, most royals could potentially be descended from one person through many generations. A prime example would be the British royals and nobility, many of whom are descendants of Queen Victoria of the UK or King Christian IX of Denmark. 

Though in other cultures, many a times, inbreeding was done in order to keep the royal line ‘pure’ and strengthen the line of succession. In the Ptolemaic dynasty, all rulers were married to their brothers or sisters. 

Hey, they even did it in Game of Thrones. 

III.                                                         Gene Pooling

Let’s sit down for a moment and pretend we’re back in secondary school listening to our biology professor drone on about Punnett squares and fruit fly generations, shall we? 

I’ve been seeing some discontent with ships here and there but let’s remove the ‘abuse’ and ‘manipulation’ for a moment and focus on another point of contention: incest. 

A focal point disagreement for most people on Ardyn and Noctis as a ship is that they’re related. They have between them, two thousand years (or more depending on which Ardyn RPer you talk to) and possibly up to a hundred generations. Remember as I stated previously, much of FFXV’s lore is based off of medieval lines, so if we assume that all the members married relatively young and bore offsprings at a young age, more or less a hundred generations would be about right. At least they aren’t fruit flies, right? 

What’s more interesting to bring to light is the alliance between the Nox Fleuret and Caelum lines. As mentioned above (Note: See point II), intermarriages are not uncommon among close royal and noble families and even more so with the whole oracle/king dynamic. It would be more surprising to learn if they had never crossed lines between them before. I would assume that it might have happened more than a few times considering the friendly relations and as a guarantee of peace between the two dynasties. 

So, guess what? Luna and Noctis could very well be related as well. I would think that due to the amount of intermarriages that could happen, the similarities in their genetic pool is probably a lot closer than Ardyn to Noctis.

Let’s take a gander at this table. A person shares 25% of genetics as their grandparents. And if we think about how with each generation, genetic coding changes. Even with inbreeding, the code is not even quite the same due to a mutation in the coding. 

With so many generations between them, we’re looking at bare minimal in terms of shared genetic coding here. 

Conclusion? They share the same name but they can hardly be considered relatives. Luna and Noctis also could possibly share DNA, so by these standards of those against Ardyn and Noctis shipping, that’s incest too. 

IV.                                                       Mun =/= Muse

I’ve seen this in the Tumblr RP community since I first started roughly three years ago. This incessant belief that if one writes something, one must absolutely condone it. Your muse is a jerk to mine? Clearly, that’s a personal attack. It isn’t, stop. Get over yourselves. 

If this argument was actually valid then we can say that Stephen King absolutely condones murderous demonic clowns dismembering children. Or George R.R Martin is all about incest and rape in addition to brutal execution methods. 

If someone chooses to write a darker theme because they feel that they are able to explore an aspect of their muse and have development from it? Great for them. Hell, if they want to do it for fun, that’s their business too. No one should be policing what anyone else does. No one is better than anyone else here. We’re all fucking nerds living vicariously through fictional characters for shits and giggles. 

Something about that blog bothers you? Don’t read it. Unfollow. Block. Go bleach your brain with cute cat videos or dumb memes, I don’t care. Just don’t be a dick and put someone else down for liking something you don’t like. You’re free to salt with your friends in a private setting where no one gets hurt. Hell, I do it all the time. 

No one holds a gun to your head and tells you to read what makes you uncomfortable. You make that conscious choice to follow this person despite the fact that they produce content that ‘triggers’ you. Want to know what that’s called? Winning the Darwin Award. It’s very much akin to being squeamish about gore and going to watch a Saw movie. Does that make sense to you? Don’t do this to yourself. 

Let and let live. At the end of the day, this is a hobby where people come to enjoy themselves and escape reality for a short while so don’t ruin a fun thing for others. Respect each other enough to just click the block button, walk away from it and let a bitch live. 

Thank you. 

[theseventhhex]

Shilpa Ray Interview

Shilpa Ray

Conceived from Shilpa Ray’s time working the door at the Lower East Side bar Pianos, ‘Door Girl’ takes its titular inspiration from Ray’s vast experiences of witnessing survival, desperation and doubt in gritty New York. The exceptional record is the story of a city as it lives and breathes at its most rudimentary levels, as told by an artist who is equal parts musician and magician and for whom each track intertwines cultural and personal narratives. ‘Door Girl’ carries an intriguing concept that embodies and encapsulates awareness and reflection alongside striking and astute musicality… We talk to Shilpa Ray about looking outside of herself, spirituality and speaking Bengali…

TSH: How would you sum up your overall stance with ‘Door Girl’?

Shilpa: I guess I wanted to go for something a little bit lighter with this latest release. People often comment about how I write about personal stuff so I wanted to do something that was on the wild side. I decided to write from the point of view of someone observing things, rather than actually being in the situation.

TSH: How did your views regarding New York impact this album?

Shilpa: For me, it was more about living in New York for 17 years and kind of being in a situation where I’m just watching human activity at night. Day after day I was picking up on certain behaviours and sort of looking into a part of New York that has changed a lot but is still somewhat very much the same.

TSH: Do you prefer to look outside of yourself when it comes to subject matter?

Shilpa: Yeah, absolutely. I’m always trying to look for something outside of what I’m thinking in my head because it’s a good break for me. I’m someone who is musically very cerebral, so looking outside of myself makes a lot of sense.

TSH: How did working the door at a bar come to be for yourself?

Shilpa: Well, I wanted a job that was flexible, whereupon I could work on my music at the same time. I didn’t want a serious job, but it had to be wage oriented, so I could go on tour too. I mean you can look at this job as being demeaning in a way, but it’s also very interesting because you’re always around people.

TSH: You also had the desire to switch it up from a sound perspective?

Shilpa: Yeah, definitely. This record stems from wanting to incorporate a lot of music that came out of New York originally; like hip-hop, noise and punk. I wanted to look into these genres but offer my own touch. Also, I felt there was no point using a harmonium because it would put weight on the music, which I didn’t really want, so I chose to use instruments like the piano or a Mellotron to give it a different type of feel. I actually enjoyed playing all of the different instruments - it’s nice to take a break from the tools that you are accustomed to all of the time.

TSH: You’ve previously mentioned you always have an arrangement in mind with your compositions, was this the case with ‘Morning Terrors Nights of Dread’?

Shilpa: Yeah, absolutely. That song started out as a song that came out of sarcasm, which is the case with a lot of my music. I tend to just walk at night, thinking about hating my life and coming up with stupid stuff in my head. I just thought it would be so funny to have the lonely boy in the spotlight moment in the middle of the song, where I’m pleading about why I can’t have these things that I want. I guess I was sort of writing it with a Broadway idea to it, but still keeping it in a rock format. That was a cool song to make and I’m just basically making fun of myself the entire time.

TSH: What were the primary factors in getting ‘EMT Police and the Fire Department’ to sound so concise?

Shilpa: I wanted that song to sound like what that night was like. I decided to go for a metered punk rock type of vibe to evoke a wild energy and an anthemic overall result. The basis and fulcrum of what pushes the song is the meter of the words - they are all 16 syllable lines, which was a total bitch to write, haha! All of a sudden you have this format you have to confine to. Writing without music versus writing with music are two completely different things.

TSH: With the topics covered in ‘My World Shatters by the BQE’, was this the obvious choice to bookend the album?

Shilpa: Yeah, simply because if I was to look at myself as the character of the door girl, this song would entail me reconciling and finally justifying why door girl lives in the city. This track is the end for the character and a realisation of herself. In my head, this album had an arc like a film so this track was fitting as the closer in that sense.

TSH: Do you prefer having ambiguity in your music?

Shilpa: I do like ambiguity in my music; therefore others can interpret it in their own ways. However, it’s kind of hard to manage that when people ask you why you are writing things. You have to be careful about not letting your opinion affect how others will interpret your stuff. I am a big believer that once you make the art and let it go, it’s somebody else’s thing and it’s not yours anymore. I’m not about to control how other people perceive my music at all. I have an initial motivation, for sure, but after that, it’s out of my control.

TSH: Do your surroundings still act as strong attachments to your music?

Shilpa: Definitely. You know, recently I wandered into a museum to kill time. Whilst I was there, I ended up looking at a picture and immediately I wanted to write something after looking at this picture. That kind of thing happens to me a lot. But yeah, surroundings are a big eye opener for me too. I walk over bridges a lot, as well as going up and down the island, which definitely gets me going.

TSH: Having visited Nepal in recent times, were you taken back by how the government uses religion against people?

Shilpa: Absolutely. I guess growing up in America; I never really saw the corruption of my own culture or religion because we were minorities. However, it was really shocking for me to see Hinduism be just as corrupt as what we were told every other religion is. It was mind blowing! People are expected to pay for spirituality, which is ridiculous. You’re talking about exploiting people who are insanely vulnerable and I guess you see this with Christianity in the States too. Also, I’m sure other religions exploit their followers and people too - it’s just the way it is these days. I just never thought about this happening with Hinduism until I went back to Nepal.

TSH: Are you still wrestling with the idea of what spirituality means to you?

Shilpa: Well, living in New York will totally remove the spirituality from you, haha! You know, I’m still trying to figure out what spirituality means to me. I still identify as Hindu and I think my temperament is very Hindu. Also, when a disaster strikes my reaction is very Hindu too. All in all, I guess I’m still looking for something I haven’t found yet with spirituality, which is why I make art.

TSH: Are you still fluent in Bengali?

Shilpa: I used to be fluent in Bengali, but I don’t have anyone to talk to anymore. I wish I had more people to speak to in Bengali, but then when I do, I sound like I’m 8, haha! It’s kind of embarrassing. I still speak to my parents in Bengali and they try not to criticise me too much!

TSH: What keeps you most relaxed?

Shilpa: I just love to walk. I like to look at my surroundings and wander around. I also love to sleep when I can, but I don’t get a chance to, so it’s an indulgence for me. I like to be in a dream world overall.

TSH: Is your outlook of curiosity saving you all of the time very much your mantra?

Shilpa: Yeah, I think so. Curiosity in general just keeps me going. My main aim is to keep looking for a story, which is why travelling is so important. Hopefully I’ll get to broaden my horizons and continue to find new inspirations to keep me content.

Shilpa Ray - “EMT Police and the Fire Department”

Door Girl

[spikycharlotte]

:0 all of them

y’all better strap in

four jews in a room bitching / what’s your favorite stereotype for your religion?

haha i don’t really identify with one in particular? so i’m not sure.

a tight-knit family / who do you consider family?

i for sure believe “blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” while i do have family members whom i do love and am proud to call family, i don’t think the question is calling for that.

my best friends are like family to me, and i’d do anything for them. i also have a mentor/teacher, and he and his wife are like second parents to me.

love is blind / what makes a healthy relationship?

C O M M U N I C A T I O N ! ! ! you should NEVER be lying to your s/o!! and if your s/o does something you’re not comfortable with/makes you upset, TELL THEM! you shouldn’t be stewing, but also don’t enter the conversation angry and accusatory. and on the flip side, if your s/o comes to you with something you did, LISTEN TO THEM. apologize and explain yourself, even if it was just a misunderstanding! avoid becoming defensive. 

the thrill of first love / what’s something you’d kill for?

answered here!

marvin at the psychiatrist / do you ever feel like no one is listening to you when you talk?

i used to feel this way all the time, but i’ve recently become comfortable with saying, “excuse me, i was speaking” when i’m spoken over. also i find myself in lots of leadership positions in my day-to-day, so i’m pretty good at making myself heard.

my father’s a homo / could you/would you want to be president?

the idea (a loud, genderqueer, butch lesbian with the conscience to do the best for others) sounds great, but i’m not the person that fits that description to be president. i’m infj, so i’ve got the teacher personality, and that’s what i want to do!

everyone tells jason to see a psychiatrist / do people nag you consistently about something? if so, what?

this is such a #relatableteen answer but my room is a goddamn mess and my mom nags me on the daily to clean it (something i never do)

this had better come to a stop / what’s something people do that infuriates you?

i talked about this a little bit, but when people come to me with relationship issues and the issue could resolved so easily if instead of coming to me and telling me, they just went to their s/o. a problem cannot be resolved through outside sources.

i’m breaking down / what makes you crazy/pushes you over the edge?

answered here!

please come to our house / what was the last thing you did to help someone?

ummm to fit with the “therapy” theme of this the other night i helped a friend when she needed to vent about some crappy home things. 

jason’s therapy / what’s the worst advice you’ve ever been given?

i resent this question being with this song!!! i think mendel’s “feel alright” advice (while flawed) at its core is actually kind of pure and good! of course the way he gives it is bad (ignore your problems!)

but worst advice i’ve ever been given was i asked a friend towards the beginning of my last relationship if i should continue it and she said i should, and it ended much later and i was very unhappy throughout most of it. so that was pretty shitty. (i now have a very wonderful girlfriend who is currently having me answer all of these questions :-))

a marriage proposal / how would you want to be proposed to?

actually something very similar to how mendel does it! something private and lowkey, and just having someone word vomit their love for me sounds very cute and endearing.

however i always thought of myself as the one who would propose, so there’s that

a tight-knit family (reprise) / are you satisfied with what you have in life, or do you want more?

well as a student in high school it’s kind of hard to be satisfied, because there’s so much i want to do but i can’t as my student-ness prevents me from doing so.

but considering my place in life, i think i am quite happy!! i have a great gf, great friends, and i’m kind of excited for this school year!

trina’s song / what’s the worst interaction you’ve had with the opposite gender?

every interaction i’ve ever had with a male human being ever in my life. i could go on and on. but one that comes to mind is how one time a dude went on this huge rant during a teacher’s lecture about freud’s psychosexual theories about how homosexuality is an unnatural choice, all while continuing to glance at me to make sure he got his desired reaction

march of the falsettos / who’s the most immature person you know, and why?

um i know plenty, but the worst are some of my younger very intelligent female friends who are more focused on their boyfriends than their academics, which while i love and support them infuriate me to no end.

trina’s song (reprise) / have you ever settled for something better than you’d expected, but not as good as you’d hoped?

while this worked out for trina, as she soon would realize that mendel would be as good as she hoped, settling for less than you hope is never a good thing. 

i’ve always thought this, so i can’t really think of any examples

the chess game / what’s the most petty thing you’ve ever done?

perfect question for this song, op. 

i’ve done a lot of petty things in my life, bc i think everyone does. very recently though a girl was annoying the hell out of me trying to get me to tell her the answers for our summer hw and i gave her the entirely wrong answers.

making a home / how different are you in public than in private?

my personality is very much the same, but i’m obviously more in public. i don’t swear as much. and in private i talk to myself and sing loudly all the time which doesn’t make much sense to do in public

the games i play / do you ever wish you were doing more than you currently are?

constantly. i’m in high school so my options are grossly limited. i’m super excited to go to college and begin my teaching career. i just really want to help people!!

marvin hits trina / have you ever hated someone for being happy?

before i was in a better place like i am now, i really resented my best friend for getting a boyfriend for a while. but now i’m fine and very happy for the both of them.

i never wanted to love you / have you ever liked something you knew was bad? have you stopped?

um in middle school i liked sup/erwhol/ock despite the problematicness of them all (the other two more so than d/octor w/ho), if that’s what this means.

father to son / what is your relationship with your parents?

i love my mom a lot, she’s great. she had me in high school, and my bio dad split when he found out i existed, so i’ve never met him, but i also have no interest in doing so. i love my (step) dad a lot, but our relationship is kind of strained bc i don’t think he fully understands my being gay (even though he’s not rude or anything about it)

falsettoland/about time / do you use labels?

i actually quite like labels ? i like legitimizing my identity by finding out that other people feel the same way, and therefore have worked to put a name to it.

that’s also why i kind of like the femme/butch scale even though it was initially a joke, bc it acknowledges that not every lesbian is lipstick OR stone butch, and idk i kinda like it. but i do hate when nonlesbians ,,,,,, use it ,,,,,,, to describe lesbians,,,,, bc,,, it’s not for them…..

year of the child / when was the last time everything was about you?

idk prob my birthday parties… i don’t like being the perfect center of attention, i feel uncomfortable

miracle of judaism / what’s the last significant decision you had to make?

oh geez idk. i don’t make a lot of those… i can’t think of one right now.

the baseball game / do you play/like sports? which ones?

i do not like them really… i like badminton tho… that’s more of an activity and not a sport though

a day in falsettoland / what’s your daily routine like? 

during the summer, i wake up and fart around on the internet, unless i have somewhere to be. all the while texting maggie all day

everyone hates his parents / what was the last thing your parents did that pissed you off?

my mom is a really bad backseat driver. like swearing and anger is her brand of backseat driving. so it makes me super anxious and angry hearing someone constantly bitch while i’m trying to drive

what more can i say? / are you in love? have you ever been in love? what is it like? 

answered here! 

something bad is happening / do you get frustrated when you don’t know something?

yes i do. its a problem, especially as i’m on academic team

more racquetball / are you a sore loser/winner?

yes yes yes. mariokart comes to mind in particular. if i lose it was lagging or too many items were unfairly sent my way, or if i win everyone else sucks and i’m the best

holding to the ground / how do you react when things don’t go as planned?

i’m not the best. i’m a huge control freak, so when things don’t work out perfectly i freak out

days like this / are you an optimist, a pessimist, or a realist?

i think i’m like an.. optimistic realist? like i’m a realist, but with that i’m more likely to say “the worst case scenario is this, so at least that’s not happening”

canceling the bar mitzvah / how do you react under pressure?

i get stressed, but i also get my work done, so good and bad

unlikely lovers / do you have any friends who are extremely different from you?

yeah, a lot actually! i have one friend who listens to hard core rock stuff and has a bunch of piercings and has never listened to a musical in her life and i also have friends super into gymnastics and cheerleading and stuff. i love my friends!!

another miracle of judaism / if you could have anything right now, what would it be?

maggie, next to me

something bad is happening (reprise) / have you ever had to deliver some really bad news? how did it go? 

i had to explain to someone the oak/great comet drama, which was not fun. but i don’t think i’ve ever had to break super terrible bad news, especially not like what charlotte had to tell her best friend

you gotta die sometime / are you afraid of dying/death?

i don’t know…? the idea of nothingness is for sure daunting

jason’s bar mitzvah / what was the last big event you attended?

the other day i went to the first practice of the year for academic team! theres a lot of us and we had pizza and played and whatnot

falsettoland (reprise) / what do you want your legacy to be?

i just want people to remember me as someone who did their best to help others

[barbaricyawp]

christopher, i know traditionally a letter starts with dear but when i discovered that dear means you have some regard for someone it made me rethink it for certain people; you being one of those people. but you wanted to know how i feel and so i am point blank going to give it to you. i want to take you back to the divorce, when you would scream at alex and you and mom would have screaming matches downstairs. alex wasn't the only one who heard everything - i wasn't on the stairs so i didn't hear every little detail - but i've heard enough to know what happened and to harbor a lot of resentment for you for that alone. did you know that beating your child with a belt isn't normal disciplinary action for a child? i remember when i was four there were several times you'd hit me with a belt or a curtain rod. i only ever remember age four because it felt to me like the years all melded together, it was hell and walking on eggshells for a long time. i remember covering myself in my top bunk with stuffies and blankets so you wouldn't find me because - at age four - you had thrown me into a panic attack and i was hyperventilating and scared. i was terrified, sobbing, and unable to breathe and i remember i kept trying to push a pillow over my face to make myself stop breathing. at such a young age i had already developed some degree of anxiety because of you, the first of my mental illnesses. i don't know how it was decided that i was gonna be the girly child, i never actually cared for it. i wore dresses because they were laid out for me, i honestly don't know where it started and i guess i can't really put the blame on anyone but that did seriously mess me up as a kid. i knew i was a boy but there were some things i liked that were traditionally feminine and since i was born in a "female" body i was the girly girl. did you know gender is actually developed by your brain and determined by the way different parts of your brain interact? it is proven that trans men's brain patterns are closest to biological men's. that said my love for makeup and the like is still very much alive, i guess it's the fault of society's gendering. up until sixth grade i only really have memories in pieces. it turns out an eating disorder eats away at your memory too. i remember i saw a picture of myself in the school yearbook and i had a clip holding up my hair and a double chin and i was completely repulsed. that day i cried and cried and cried because i hated myself. this led to my second mental illness, depression. i remember feeling like hurting myself but not knowing how any of that worked so i went to my father and kept trying to tell him that something was wrong and i needed to see a doctor, you told me i was being overdramatic and that i was a hormonal teenager. so when i found pictures of people cutting and hanging themselves online and they said that made everything stop hurting i realized i could drag a pair of scissors across my wrists until they were dripping with blood and feel nothing. shortly after this i developed my third which was anorexia, i stopped eating and no one cared. i know no one did because no one pushed me to eat when i would decline because of my "prediabetic" status. everyone patted me on the back and told me i was doing good so i kept going. i exercised a minimum of eight hours a day, eating no more than ninety calories a day and running until i burnt over one thousand. then i went to cardio and i would only stop when my vision got so spotty that i couldn't see. this continued steadily and without much change until my eighth grade year. september 9, 2013 my long distance best friend of three years killed himself. we had started talking over similar interests over social media and eventually we ended up skyping almost every day. he was also my first love - first person i'd ever fallen in love with - so the loss left me broken hearted and hopeless. at this point it wasn't unusual for you to scream at me, just before this time you had screamed me into my first really bad blackout - meaning i got so upset that i was not aware of my surroundings or in control of my body - panic attack. you had said i was a burden, that injuries and sicknesses were my own fault, that i was shit, that i was worthless. i don't know how you justified these outbursts that you would have to yourself, did you really not think they would hurt your child - who looked up to you as their father? after tyler killed himself i figured i had nothing to lose and started cutting every day - having only ever done it once in a long while previously. one night it got particularly deep and i just wanted to jab the scissors deeper. i passed out on my bed and woke up the next morning covered in blood, i always wondered if you had not cared enough to notice or not cared enough to check on me for the course of that entire night. i started attempting my life regularly, sometimes with cutting, sometimes with pills, i even tried to smother myself when i was breaking down from your screaming yet again. i don't know how many times you'd scream at me, but it made me think littler and littler about myself. i remember once when i had gone in for a check up the nurse looked at you and said is this normal - having pulled up my sleeve and seen my forearms covered in cuts - and you just shrugged. i continued like this for a long time and kept looking for your approval and trying to give you chances to be my father again and you would scream at me and it would crush me. i remember each time you would scream at me vividly, but there are way too many times for me to account for - i simply refuse to waste that much time on you trying to make a point. all i can say is if someone has a stern tone with me i involuntarily burst into tears, if someone raises their voice my body throws itself into a panic attack, and i can't hear the word excuse without having a breakdown and at the very least bursting into tears. want to know why? you traumatized me, i have ptsd because of you. (i had previous suspicion, but was officially diagnosed by the therapist you had me see in my junior year, she told me it was a relatively extreme case.) it got to the point where i swallowed three bottles of pills and cut my wrists as deep as i could and passed out in my bed. this was about ninth grade and this is the year that i stopped loving you. even i had my doubts that i could just one day stop loving the man who shares half my dna, but then i discovered the reasoning behind using dear in a letter. dear is an adjective used for someone for whom you feel deep affection or regard, it can also refer to something expensive or precious. this made me realize that i no longer loved you, that i no longer feel anything for you. it used to be that i could not stand being kissed goodnight or touched by you in the slightest and now it just makes me uncomfortable because it feels as if a stranger is invading my personal space. you are not dear to me and you have not been for years, you've screamed me into multiple breakdowns/panic attacks and been an abusive father, verbally, emotionally, and mentally. now i have severe depression, severe anxiety, borderline personality disorder, and severe post traumatic stress disorder because of you. your "talks" still wake me up crying at night. if mom takes a sterner tone with me or someone says the word excuse to me i involuntarily start to cry. you severed our relationship by the way you treated me and i'm not sorry to say that there is no repairing it. as far as i'm concerned you have done too much damage. as far as i'm concerned you are not my father and i am not your son. i see gabby and sam going down the same road i've been on for so long, you've been breaking them down for a long time as you did with me. one can only take so much before it's enough and let me tell you it's pretty close with both of them. you need to clean up your act and be open to educating and getting yourself help because the way that you "parent" and "talk" to your children is not normal. initially i had to diagnose myself with all of my mental illness because you would not take me to a doctor and said it was "bullshit" and "fake" - that said i was formally diagnosed by professionals because self diagnosis are rarely taken seriously or medicated - i've educated myself extensively on mental illnesses and you definitely have at least one. from what i've seen you most definitely have either depression, bipolar disorder, or a mix of borderline personality disorder and either of the two. you need to actively get help if you care about the little that remain of your children - and by actively i mean actually trying and wanting to change and talking to a doctor or a therapist about all the things that go through your head and how you feel at every time during your day and actually trying and not blowing it off as bullshit and saying you're "fine". you're not "fine", you're so not "fine" that two children have severed ties with you, two children have self harmed because of you, two children have attempted their lives because of you. it may be due to mental illness (that i know you don't really believe in), but that does not "excuse" - even using it just then made me breakdown for twenty minutes do you see what your words can do - being abusive. part of mental illness is realizing you have a problem and realizing when you are being abusive so you can own up to it and stop being abusive. just because you are mentally ill does not mean that you can be abusive and get away with it, but if you admit to having a problem and seek help people are most often willing to forgive prior abuse. i, however, in this case am not. you have hurt me too much. again, as far as i'm concerned you are not my father and i am not your son, your sperm simply fertilized my mother's egg. now i know this might have you emotional, but there is one last thing you could do for me if you ever really cared about me. become aware of yourself. i know this isn't what you want to hear, but that does not mean you get to pick up my siblings from grandma's after work and scream at them. that is abusive. the way you are is abusive. you are an abusive father to the three children that you do have. i highly suggest that you seek help so you can stop abusing my siblings, because even if you are not my father they are my siblings. i may not love you but i love them, if you hurt them i will do everything in my power to help them even if it means they have to cut you out of their lives too. i guarantee if you don't get and actively seek out help you will lose the three children that you do still have. as far as i'm concerned i am not your child and do not expect nor want any gifts or money that you might want or feel the need to give during holidays. do not hug me or touch me without my permission and do not talk to me, to do otherwise would be a violation of my personal space and consent as it would be if any other stranger were to do the same. you may only contact me of things regarding my siblings because as far as i'm concerned they are the only reason we would ever need to have any contact. i do hope you seek help for the sake of your kids, christopher, you need to discover how to be a healthy parent to your children and if you choose to remain in denial or stuck in your ways you will lose them, not because of me or mom, but because you will push them too far. as far as i'm concerned, you are not my father and i am not your son. you have lost the right to be my father. goodbye. sincerely, Anders Todd

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story -twelve.

I was not the only person with a weird family. In her own way, Sarah-Mae had a strange family as well. Her mother was sane. Her father had gone crazy and was rarely ever in her life. There were many times when she would think he was coming to see her, even for a few hours on a Friday, and she would wait and be very hurt when he never arrived. After awhile, she just kind of shut that side of her off.

Sarah's great grandmother had schizophrenia. Her mother's father had developed multiple personalities, her uncle Gary had schizophrenia. And I think there were others in her family that I am not remembering. Schizophrenia runs very hard in Sarah's family line. It would make someone very weary of having children, in fear that they might be the eneemeeneemineemo that ended up with it. Another one of her uncles was in prison. And none of her cousins lived with their parents because their parents were not stable or mentally well and couldn't be counted on to raise children. And the remainders of the family either weren't biological, or, even if they were sane, there was something slightly shell shocked about them. Sarah's mother Carol had a very harsh childhood, but I will not ever divulge that information out in the open. She was mostly a high spirited person when I first knew her, but sometimes she seemed kind of closed off and fearful. If you knew her life though, you could understand that she was doing very well for herself all things considered. You don't get out of life, particularly some lives without some scars and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Carol was cool though, in that you could tell that she had a level of decency in her, even to people who hadn't been very nice to her, including my father who had cheated on her when they knew each other when they were young. She was also very sensitive, and despite her kind of unrealistic favoritism of her daughter, and the fact that compared to Sarah-Mae, I was loud, clumsy and inappropriate (I am not particularly loud, clumsy or inappropriate but compared to Sarah most people are), she let me stay the night just about whenever I wanted to. She included me in their family quite a bit, and I don't think she would have done that if she had not grown to care about me as a person. And if you have read the previous history I have written so far, you will know that I dearly needed that healthy element in my life. She also always shared her food with me every night I came over to visit. And she wasn't rich at all. It was usually just soup, toast, chicken, or occasionally something else. But I have to look back at all the things she helped me with, all the stability she gave me in my bleak little life. She wasn't particularly helpful in anything super personal, but she gave me a place I could go, and later when I was running from my father, she was willing to go toe to toe with him if need be. I don't know if there is anything that I could ever do to make us even.

I would often go with Sarah to her grandma's (her mother's mother) and her grandpa – who was only her grandpa by marriage but Sarah considered him her grandpa just the same, whom she called Grampy. Everyone called her grandma, Tutu, which is 'grandma' in Hawaiian. She wasn't ethnically Hawaiian, she had just lived there for awhile. People might have thought that was a little strange, but as a child I had called my mom – mother, and my grandma – grandmother in full. Which is kind of weird also. When I first met Sarah-Mae her grandparents lived in this big place on a hill above the town. The house itself wasn't very big, but they had these huge bunker type storage sheds that were enormous. I assume they must have had some function at one time for farming equipment. If you had been there, the place kind of stuck out in your mind, They had two dogs, Bernie and Lily. I think Lily was one of those race hounds, I think she was even related to some world record holding canines, but she herself was a goofy sort, very fat in the body but with a thin longish face that was always a little too eager to see you. The other dog was Bernie – now that I am aware of Bernie Sanders, I realize that the name Bernie has been replaced in my mind by the political figure, but before Bernie Sanders, there was a kind of grumpy sheep dog named Bernie who laid around all day.

Grampy was kind of a laid back fellow. He didn't say much, and as he got older he had trouble hearing very well. He was (actually, he's very old but he still alive, so /is) a WW2 war hero. He was one of the original frogmen. Basically, this meant he was a combat swimmer, trained to swim several miles into an enemies area, plant a bomb, and then swim away without anyone seeing him and getting away on time before the thing blew. He had killed people in the war. His knowledge of bombs ended up getting him a career in places where they needed to bomb areas of hillside in places like Hawaii where they needed to build roads. My father knew him clear back when my dad was a teenager dating Sarah's mom, and he said that Bob was the kind of man that would pick up an entire fridge on his back – back when fridges were very heavy, and move it where it needed to be. He was intimidating. But for as long as I have known Grampy, he was always old. He carries Tabasco sauce in his shirt pocket in case he wants to put it on his food. When I first met him, he cooked the best creamy – lemon fish I had ever tasted (this was back when I wasn't vegan – and though I should proclaim to dislike the taste I will admit that at one time I ate all manner of meat and I really especially liked Trout,  I shall not lie to my readers).

We would sometimes all go up there to play croquet on the hillside like English people might. It was always quite windy out there. Tutu was/and is a sort of phony individual. It's not that she is dislikable, it's just that you learn to just say to yourself, “well, that's Tutu,” an awful lot. She was always curating everything. You'd think she was some kind of socialite millionaire based on certain personality traits that seemed like what you might find from a socialite woman from the 50's. Which was strange in a way, because nobody else in the family was really that way. Tutu was always very personally driven, liked to gossip, seemed lively. She kept a very clean house. And she was catty as hell. I can't even figure out how a person could just be like that 24/7. I sometimes for fun later on in my life would play cards with her, and I would make one snide comment, and she would fucking floor me with an absolutely cunning and biting comeback, that was oddly ladylike at the same time. In this way, I kind f admired her and saw her snappy resourceful wit kind of bad ass.

But, if she thought what you were wearing was bad, she made note of it. If you gained a few pounds, she noticed, and she would say something – preferably in the most inappropriate time at a dinner table of family members. In a way, there was something kind of wrong with her for this. It was like she was always taking little jabs at other people, but all in some kind of jolly civility that made you vulnerable and her far from it. And here you knew that her first husband lost his mind, and her sons were out of it. And Carol was her sensitive daughter that she scarcely even appreciated most of the time. It was all a bit off. It was good for me to have these people in my life as well though, because it balanced the all too real uncivilized emotional outbursts and disorganized anger of my own family.

Tutu made light of my weight a lot – and always took note of what I put on my plate and how much. Perhaps it was her influence that made Carol compare me to her own daughter early on the years previous the day we wanted those identical shirts for picture day. I don't know really. But after awhile, with Tutu at least, after the initial shock and hurt feelings, you just learned to ignore her. She was kind of like 3CPO from Star Wars. She just said stuff that was a lot of times fluff, and you just kind of shut off her banter in your mind.

The family also owned some land up by this god awful small misfortunate town far from civilization called Winchester. It's mostly known because it's near a wolf conservation area. There is also a halfway house and a loony bin. A lot of people who are running from the law go there to hide. There seemed to be a lot of house fires up there. It's a place where a hermit might go to get their groceries. And actually, there has been a lot of verifiable legitimate UFO sightings in that remote area. Sarah's family owned some acres up there. It seemed like quite a large area that they owned to me. You could go walking for a few hours around the property. Even though I have been there a number of times, I could not find it on a map if my life depended on it. You go through the crazy little town which is mostly tents and campers, then you go on a road that goes onto another more gravely road, and then another gravely road, and then you randomly take a turn into this long road into the forest, and you end up in this strange makeshift junkyard turned campground.

They built this neat little upstairs-downstairs camper, with a kiln and an outhouse. Sarah's uncle with schizophrenia, Gary lived up there alone most of the time, just him and whatever pet he happened to have. There were neighboring horses and cows that sometimes wandered around. They became used to people and were mostly very friendly. Sarah's favorite thing in the world up there is the hammocks. They have these hammocks set up and we used to sit in them and draw pictures for hours. Occasionally, some demented alien version of a wasp would try to attack you, but other than that it was always pretty nice. There was also this pond area where you could catch as many frogs as you wanted. Gary, being alone up there all the time, had set up his own  home. It was a school bus that he had gutted out, took out the seats, and put in furniture. It was actually really neat.

It was around this time that I took a special trip with my father to the Sawtooth Mountains. My uncle Bob, my uncle Steve, and my father had all been avid mountain climbers in their youth. They decided to get back into it together by planning a trip to backpack up the Sawtooth Mountains in southern Idaho. My dad let me come along. He knew that I could keep up. I have unusually defined leg muscles. Particularly my calves. The lower half of my legs could have been drawn by Robert Crumb. I have very strong legs, and to get to school I had to walk up a hill everyday. Thanks to that evil relentless gym teacher from third grade, I have very high tolerance to muscle fatigue.

The Sawtooth Mountains are lovely. I think I read somewhere that they are the most photographed peaks in the United States. Idaho is a very jagged state. I don't really think about it because I live here, but the rocks are all jagged, the trees are jagged, even the leaves are pebbles are unusually jagged. When I have visited the east coast, it really shocks me that the leaves are round, the rocks seems old and rounded off. The Appalachian Mountains are like an old boot kind of.

We stopped in the town of Stanley before going on our trip. We ordered food at a diner. I remember I ordered shrimp. Later we started our climb. It was all very lovely, shockingly so. There was a place where we looked out and the sun was hitting the rocks in such a way that it almost had a rainbowesque quality to it. We went about five miles, and then it started to rain – very hard. My uncle Bob buys only the very finest of camping gear, and somehow he had a tent that would completely stay dry inside, even though the ground at that point was basically mud. As I sat in there, and we got settled,  I started to feel sick. Never order seafood in an small inland mountain town. Actually, don't order seafood at all – it's killing our oceans, but if you are going to for your own sake I suggest you get it at a sea port, and don't get it in a town like Stanley Idaho. I had food poisoning.

It had stopped raining and I was just about to throw up. I remember my uncle Bob kept making jokes about it. He kept singing 'Ring of Fire' by Johnny Cash, and replaced 'fell' with 'puked' since we were sitting around the campfire. It made me feel even sicker. He eventually offered a sleeping pill he had as a prescription. It was something very heavy that they would only give in a surgical type situation. I don't know why he had it, but he offered me one, promising that I would fall asleep almost immediately and sleep it off. I didn't believe him. I took it and just laid there. I remember I was listening to my uncle Bob talk about a man he knew who fought in Viet Nam, and while he had been there the soldiers had gotten this monkey addicted to cigarettes for fun. And then I completely conked out.

When I woke up the next morning, the nausea was completely gone, and I realized we had camped next to a lake. There was this jagged peak across the lake. It was all very mythical. There were these mountain leeches in the water. I had never seen leeches before.

My radio was always on at this point. I was so obsessed with my boombox. I had named it Raichu, after the evolved Pikachu, and it had a Raichu sticker on it. In the winter, I would always eagerly listen to the radio to hear if any school was getting canceled. It was the joy of my existence if they stated that the Kendrick- Juliaetta schools were closed. It made my life. I was also starting to take horoscopes pretty seriously, and I would get up especially early just to hear what mine would be. Technically, I am a Virgo, but I am kind of in a cuspy area. So in horoscope lingo, that means I shares some traits with Leo. So I always had amusement for myself in mixing the two weekly fortunes together to come up with my own interpretation with what it all meant. Of course, these days I really see no science behind this. I kind of understand the validity of Meyers Briggs Typology, since there are statistic studies you can do with what personality types make the most money, get into certain careers, find themselves in relationships, and who tends to get together the most frequently. All of that tends to be very quantifiable to a degree, even if it's true that there is a lot more to a person than this one way of dividing them up by their tendencies. There is some truth to that test. Horoscopes on the other hand are completely absurd, invented before we had a real understanding of our solar system.

I remember too, one night I woke up, and for some reason they were playing Radiohead's 'Creep'. It was a popular song six or seven years previous, and didn't get much air play anymore. I had never given it a good listen. It was almost as though someone had woke me up just to hear this song in it's entirely in the middle of the night. There was something about that song that got deep inside of me in that moment. I think I even teared up a little. I suppose it might have been the lyrics, but it actually almost felt like the song itself was some kind of key to something else, something I didn't quite understand. I stored that song deep into my psyche that night, and remembered the strange feelings I picked up off of it.

The end of 6th grade had finally come. I almost didn't pass. Mr. Webb, Mr. Wilcoxon, Mr. Gilson, and Mrs. Mathison all took me into a room and strongly discussed that they were 50/50 on holding me back another year. They almost didn't even let me go on the end of the year field trip. I begged with them and I promised that I would do better. I really didn't want my friends to go off to junior high while I stayed behind with the class below me, a class with no one I could relate to. It would have been hell if they had kept me. They eventually let me go along with my friends to 7th, rather than make me stay with the mean spirited little brats in the class below.

Two events happened with other girls on the last month of my being a full time student at the elementary school. One, I remember walking down the walkway one day that lead to the playground and this very popular girl in my class was chasing after Kevin (boy that Sarah and Samantha used to invest a lot of time obsessing over). When Teal passed me, she turned over and shoved me as hard as she could. I fell on my back, the wind knocked out of me. It was hard to fully fathom why she would have done such a thing. It was kind of like she was saying 'HE'S MINE AND YOU ARE A LOSER!', but I cannot be certain. And I possibly will never know. In any case what I might feel like telling her know, but have no real body language to express it is, 'nobody is anybody's and in the end we all lose. And that's okay.'

The second thing that I remember was that there was one particular popular girl who was kind of weird. Her name was Melissa Boyer. She was small, the smallest girl in the class, had giant blue eyes and blonde hair. Sarah-Mae always thought she looked a little bit like Ducky from 'The Land Before Time'. She was extremely popular, but she didn't seem to be that way because she followed the crowd. She was kind of edgy for a 6th grader. All the boys liked her, and she seemed to control everyone, in a way that seemed like she was half bored. Like she had something on people that they didn't even know. She got good grades, not because she cared, but because it was easy. And she might just as easily smoke a cigarette or date a boy three years older. She was just pretending to be friends with everyone else. I don't know. I had always gotten really weird vibes from her, like she knew what was in my head or something. She always looked at me funny, like she knew something was up. She just kind of figured people out. I am smarter than average, at least in some areas, but compared to her, I felt sluggish, dopey, overly fearful, and weak.

She infiltrated my friends one day. Samantha and Sarah were sort of excited that for whatever reason Melissa had decided to join our group. They still held out hopes of being popular maybe in the future, and Melissa coming into the picture was a promising step. I don't remember how it happened exactly, but she quickly started controlling Samantha and Sarah. And she got them to go after me in five minutes of being in the group. She started encouraging them to pick on me and start picking me to pieces. So they started doing this, exactly like she persuaded them to. Not that they didn't fling the occasional insult at me before, but this was not like them to start screaming and hollering at me and calling me names like I was a small town bank thief about to get hung. She had them throwing rocks at me and saying stuff they never would say. Their eyes were mindless. All while they were mindlessly brought to this strange crowdlike hysteria against me, Melissa stared into my eyes amused and knowingly – like this was all intentionally aimed at me, but for what I didn't know. I felt hurt by this situation, but also extremely confused.

After this episode. She walked away. Samantha and Sarah tried to follow, but she brushed them off and went back to her normal group. Samantha went about her business like nothing had happened, almost unaware of what had just happened. Sarah seemed to slow down a little and look at the ground. She felt really confused by what had just happened, I could tell. She came up to me and apologized profusely. She didn't normally apologize for things she said or did, but there was something about that entire event that was really out of the norm, and Sarah always had a very strong relationship with her mom in the sense that, if she became self aware that she had hurt someone badly, she could feel her mother's scorn.

Having been the recipient to this entire event, it left me with a lot to think about. It really made me realize some things about human nature. People have buttons. If the right person knows how to influence other people in the right way, it can have dangerous consequences. And most of the time, adults or children are being brainwashed to say or do or believe things to be true, without even being self aware half the time. It was kind of my Lord of the Flies moment.

If you want to read my life story so far, here are the previous parts.

PART 11 - http://tinyurl.com/yc9qhj84

PART 10 -  http://tinyurl.com/yb734w24

PART 9 - http://tinyurl.com/yc2t6vfw  

PART 8 - http://tinyurl.com/ybl37utq

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8

[digitaleddyposts]

THE OUTCOME OF FEAR 3 more

FEAR OF LOSING HIS LOVE    

This innate fear results from a male tendency to polygamy. The man will unscrupulously steal his best friend's companion, or if he has the opportunity, will allow himself familiarities with him. Jealousy and other similar forms of neurosis come from the fundamental fear of losing the loved one. It is the most painful fear, one that probably wreaks havoc in the body or mind.

It probably derives its origin from the stone age when the man brutally seized the coveted woman. If the ends are the same, the technique has changed. It persuades, charm, promises toilets, a beautiful car and benefits more effective than brutality. Since the dawn of civilization, human habits are the same. They express themselves differently, that's all.

Careful study revealed that women, more than men, fear losing the object of their love, which is easily explained. They have learned, often at their expense, that the nature of man is polygamous.

Symptoms that reveal the fear of losing the loved one:

1. LA JALOUSIE. The habit of suspecting without reason his friends and those whom we love. The habit, without motive, of accusing his wife or husband of infidelity; to suspect everyone and not trust anyone.

2. THE CRITICAL. Criticize his friends for no reason, his parents, business associates and those we love.

3. THE GAME. Play, steal, cheat to give money to those we love by believing that love is bought. Spend beyond his means or go into debt to give gifts to those we love to show a favorable light. Insomnia, nervousness, lack of perseverance, weak will, lack of self-control, self-confidence, bad character.

THE FEAR OF AGING

The fear of aging gives the man 2 good reasons to apprehend the future: how to trust a

The fear of old age

Next who will strip him and how not to be haunted by the horrible evocation of the hereafter?

This form of fear is intensified by the risks of illness and disability. Eroticism holds its place, no one cherishing the thought of a diminished sexual power.

The fear of old age is associated with FEAR OF POVERTY, that of losing independence, physical and economic freedom.

The most common symptoms are:

1. The tendency to put one's body and mind "on the back burner" at the age of 40 (the age of maturity of the mind) and to develop an inferiority complex by believing, wrongly, over because of age.

2. The habit of talking about one's age; to apologize for his 40 or 50 years, instead of expressing gratitude for having reached the age of wisdom and understanding.

3. The habit of killing initiative, imagination and self-confidence by mistakenly believing that they are too old to exercise them.

4. The habit of disguising himself as a young man, at age 40, by copying the clothes and manners of his cadets. This only results in ridicule in the eyes of others and friends.

THE FEAR OF DEATH

For some, this fundamental fear is the most cruel of all. The terrible anguish of the thought of death is, in most cases, charged with religious fanaticism. Those we call "pagans" are less afraid of death than we "civilized". For thousands of years, men have asked questions that they have not answered yet: "Where are we from? Where are we going? "

There was a time when astute individuals proposed to respond with money.

"Come under my tent, embrace my faith, accept my dogmas and I will make you present a ticket that will open you paradise immediately after your death," said one adept.

"If you do not come," he cried again, "the devil will hang you and burn you for all eternity."

The thought of eternal punishment takes away all interest in life and makes all happiness impossible.

With the help of biology, astronomy, geology and other sciences, ancestral fears dissipate.

The world consists of 2 elements: ENERGY and MATTER. In elementary physics, we learn that neither can be created or destroyed. Both can be transformed. Life is an energy. So she can not be destroyed. Like other forms of energy, it will undergo several phases of transition, of change, but it can not be destroyed. Death is only a transition.

In this case, after death can come only a long, an eternal, a peaceful rest and there is no reason to fear rest.

So you can definitely sweep from your mind the fear and fear of death.

Symptoms revealing the fear of death:

One who is afraid of death has the habit of thinking about death instead of enjoying life to the fullest.

This habit often stems from a lack of purpose or the inability to find adequate occupation. This habit is more prevalent among the elderly, but young people are also often victims. The best cure for the fear of death is a desire to act and help others.

Whoever is busy does not have time to think about death.

This fear is often associated with the fear of poverty.

To fear poverty for oneself or for those we love when we will no longer be there to support them.

In other cases, fear of death is associated with illness or imbalance. Physical illness can lead to mental depression. Deception in love, poverty, religious fanaticism, lack of occupation, madness can determine the fear of death.

The worry is an insidious fear To worry is a state of mind that is fear.

He works slowly but surely. He is insidious and subtle ..

Gradually, he "mine" to paralyze the reasoning, destroy self-confidence and any initiative. Concern is a form of permanent fear motivated by indecision: it is a state of mind that can be controlled.

An undecided spirit is of no help. Most people lack the will to make quick decisions and stick to them. Yet this is how worries fly away.

I interviewed a man 2 hours before he sat on the electric chair. He was more calm of the 8 convicts in the cell, which made me ask him how one feels when one knows that one will die in a very short time.

With a confident smile, he replied: "We feel good; think about it, my troubles will end. I only had that in life. I have always had so much trouble getting food and clothes. I do not have to worry about it now and you want me not to feel good?

Since I know I'm going to die, I look good to my destiny. "

Deliver for ever from the fear of death. Make the decision to accept it as an inevitable event.

Deliver yourself from the fear of poverty by deciding to obtain wealth; fear of criticism, deciding not to worry about what people will think, say or do; fear of growing older, deciding to accept old age as a great blessing that brings with it the wisdom, self-control and understanding that youth lack; fear of illness, deciding to forget his symptoms; fear of losing your love, deciding to live without love, if necessary.

How to overcome his fear?

Abandon the habit of worrying about everything and nothing; decide once and for all that nothing that life can bring is worth the torment you create.

This decision will ensure balance, peace of mind and indirectly happiness.

A man who is afraid does not only destroy his own chances of acting intelligently, but transmits these destructive waves to the brains of all who come into contact with him and thus destroys their chances.

A dog or a horse feels when his master is distressed.

He collects the waves of fear emitted by the latter and acts accordingly.

Destructive thoughts, waves of fear pass from one mind to another as quickly and surely as the sound of the human voice passes from the transmitting station to the receiver of your radio.

The one who expresses his negative or destructive thoughts by words can be sure that they will be shocked in return.

Without even the help of words, thoughts are enough to attract the bad shots of the spell.

First and foremost, the one who releases destructive thoughts will suffer especially in his creative imagination that will be broken.

Secondly, in the mind, the presence of all destructive emotion develops a negative personality which, far from attracting beings, repels them and often makes them hostile. Third, these negative thoughts become embedded in the subconscious and become part of their character.

No doubt, the purpose of your life is to succeed. For this, you must find peace of mind, meet the necessary material needs and above all achieve happiness.

All these proofs of success are born in the form of thoughts.

You can control your own thinking, nurturing ideas that you have chosen.

You have the privilege but also the responsibility to use it for a constructive purpose.

You are the master of your earthly destiny as surely as you have the power to control your thoughts.

You can directly or indirectly influence your environment, make your life what you want it to be.

You can neglect to exercise this privilege, obey your life and throw yourself into the vast sea of "circumstances" where you will be tossed here and there like a chip on the waves of the ocean. So you have the choice, and if you read me is that you have already taken the first steps, do not get discouraged along the way, read the 13 articles over and over, learn them by heart if necessary, but influence your subconscious from positive thoughts, from the principles of the law of attraction, when you have eliminated fear, you will have created a state of mind that will allow you to pour abundance into all areas of your life. Live in abundance is a matter of habit and a habit is unconscious, you have the key, it's up to you to play.