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danniburgh · 4 years ago

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Sins of the Flesh (priest!Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: priest!Dave York x f!reader

Summary: His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed. “Lord, have mercy on me.”

Word count: +10.9k

Warnings: religion! catholic religion to be precise, a lot A LOT of religious references and undertones (shot every time you find one lmao), age gap (around 15 years, reader is legal), smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, breaking of celibacy vows!, catholic guilt, me making divine metaphors... i think thats it.

A/N: first of all this is all @asta-lily’s fault, she asked why no one had turned this man into a priest and i said “ok ill do it” so i did it, she is to blame. also i wanna say thanks to the pocket wives that encouraged this creation, sorry my loves, this isnt as slutty as yall thought lmao, and thanks to @alliterative-albatross who gave me all the bible verses that shaped this story as well. and i wanna thank the creator of this playlist that i listened over and over while writing this, and yeah, sorry for this monstrosity, love you <3

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by @asta-lily

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”–James 4:12.

Sunday 1.

Like a piece in a puzzle.

That’s how you fit in.

There, sitting in the middle of a ten people polished wood bench, eyes on the four feet tall crucified Jesus on the wall above the altar, ready for the first sermon you were to hear after coming back home.

Home. That was the name.

That church felt like home.

You were enjoying sitting there, among the children you met a couple of hours earlier when you were introduced to them as their new catechesis teacher, breathing in and out the myrrh incense burning and invading the navel and your lungs, filling them with new energy, getting them ready to feel the love that you were sure was about to pour over you.

You heard your name behind you and you turned around to see Mrs. Stevens, one of your mother’s friends waving at you from two rows behind.

“Hi, honey!” she smiled at you and immediately you reciprocated “I heard you were in town, are you staying this time?”

You drowned a chuckle inside your chest and bit your lip, nodding. Just realizing you even had missed the venomous messages hidden behind the kind words mouthed by old catholic moms.

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I’m staying this time.” you replied, the woman lifted her hand a bit to the sky and you smirked to her.

“God bless, I bet your mom is delighted you’re here!” she muttered “I know she missed you terribly all those years you were in that school.”

“It’s called college, Mrs. Stevens,” you reminded the woman, and she rolled her eyes, making you chuckle softly again “but do not worry for my mama anymore, I graduated, I’m staying for good.” you told her, amused at the way she acted as if you staying at home was some godsend blessing.

The organ began to play on the upper balcony behind everyone and you saw two altar boys, carbon copy of each other, almost rushing their way to the altar, and behind them… Father Dave.

You smiled softly at the sight of him as he walked solemnly to the altar, his green chasuble flowing with the air and the movement, there was a thought you had all those years you were away from home because of school, always coming back to Father Dave York: the young priest that decided to stay in the first congregation he was sent to, the one that became a pillar to the community, the holy man that held the direct link to God and that gave you your first communion, the one you missed when you went to attend mass at the church near campus because no one gave the sermons like he did. For some reason, whenever you least expected, you thought of him.

You saw him putting his bible on top of the pressed cloth over the altar, kneel and kiss the center of it and cross himself. And then, after he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself and to God, he opened his deep brown eyes and he looked at you.

“Let us pray.”

Your mouth dried when his deep timbered voice, with the help of a small microphone on his altar, wrapped the entire navel and you with it, he looked at you as he cleared his throat and he opened his arms to the sky, breaking eye contact with you.

“Lord, have mercy.” he murmured, and the congregation replied to his prayer as you struggled to find the air that had escaped your lungs.

As Father Dave guided the congregation through the sermon and through the prayers, all you could see was him.

In some way, there was something different about him you hadn’t noticed the last time you were there; you didn’t know if it was something about his deep voice as he recited the credo by muscle memory, the way he walked from one side of the sanctuarium to the other as he talked about the scripture or the way his hands wrapped around the chalice when one of the altar boys handed it to him as the organ echoed all around the navel, announcing the communion.

You stood up and walked to the back of the line and sighed as he lifted the wafer to the sky, and your eyes closed by themselves when he lifted the chalice and took a sip from the sacramental wine and locked your eyes on him as the line moved.

As soon as you were in front of him your lips parted and he smiled at you softly.

“The body of Christ.” he murmured, his deep brown eyes on yours as they filled with tears.

“Amen” and you opened your mouth.

He put the wined wafer between your lips and his thumb brushed with your chin, making your skin burn as you brought it inside of your mouth with your tongue and forced yourself to walk away from him.

As you returned to your seat with the gold cross that hung from your neck between your fingers and kneeled to pray for the forgiving of your sins, all you could think of was brown, deep eyes, and a soft, brief touch on your chin that burned more than the wax of a burning taper.

Dave felt it.

The way you looked at him throughout the entire service.

And it made him feel different.

When you rose from your seat to walk to the communion line, he saw the way your body moved, almost as if you were floating instead of walking.

He knew you were back, and his heart was happy you were finally home.

But he didn’t expect to see you so changed.

And he didn’t expect the way your eyes had made him feel.

Then you were in front of him, and he smiled because he remembered the first time he handed the body of Christ to you, years and years before.

And your eyes filled with tears as his breath hitched when your lips parted for him as he fed you the sacred soul of the savior.

God, have mercy.

His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed.

Lord, have mercy on me. He thought as he entered the sacristy.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”–Proverbs 28:13.

Sunday 2.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Dave heard your voice next to him and felt the air leave from his lungs. Not you, please God, not you.

You had been avoiding Father Dave for almost the entire week.

And you felt guilty about it.

You couldn’t even look at him in the eyes and not think about those dreams you were having about him.

If God was all love and perfection, why was he tempting you with dreams of Father Dave, his own servant, touching you in places you got shivers from, warming your body with his own, putting his mouth on your skin as you repeated his name like it was the sanctus?

Holy, holy, holy.

Why was God putting inside your head the sins of the flesh you had already asked forgiveness for? Why was he making you desire a forbidden man? A man that was not to be perceived as a man but as the representation of him on earth.

That morning, when you walked into the church to impart the catechesis class, you saw Jesus on the cross and you saw him look at you. And you knew he knew.

All omnipresent, all omniscient, all omnipotent.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Almighty God why were you thinking about him so much?

And the resolution in your mind was asking for forgiveness, you needed to pay penitence for those thoughts you knew you did.

But were you really about to confess to the man you had been dreaming about that he was invading your every thought?

“It has been two weeks since my last confession.” you mumbled, playing with your cross over your neck, Dave breathed in deeply and intertwined his hands on his lap.

“What are your sins?” he asked, closing his eyes as he remembered his own.

Dave was always a man of faith. It was in him from birth. He had been taught and trained to not fall into any temptations and so far his life had been devoted and dedicated to God and only to God.

But your eyes and the way you saw him, and the way your eyes made him feel when they locked on his, had him spiraling down into decadence.

Sometimes, dedicating his life to the word of the Lord made him forget he was still a human, he was still a man.

He had needs.

And he was alright before your eyes. Before your holy eyes were on him.

He had dreamed of them; he had thought of them; he had imagined them when he was in the limbo between sleep and awakeness.

He had dreamed of your lips, of your lips on his skin, he had thought of those lips that just looked like they needed someone to wet them and bring them back to life; he had imagined those lips of yours in places of his body he swore never to use.

He had prayed for them to disappear; he had begged to his God to erase those thoughts of his mind and free them from the temptation that was incarnated in you, in your body, in your eyes that denied to see him when you were in the same room, in your hands as you moved them to teach the children, in your legs trapped in the tight denim of your jeans, in your lips as you smiled to everyone but him, in your entire being, just by existing.

But they had increased, like a tamed flame sprayed with gasoline. He had a fire in his chest, one that was spreading through him as he was closer to you.

He needed them gone; he had sworn to never look at a woman as an object of desire; he had sworn on his life and he had vowed his commitment.

But you were there, kneeling next to him, separated by the thinnest patterned panel, holding the matches and the fuel.

“I’ve been having… improper thoughts, father,�� you whispered, closing your eyes and left your necklace alone, clutching your hands together as tight as you could, you felt the aura change and the air grow thicker between him and you, “about a man.”

Dave opened his eyes at your confession and frowned. A man?

He knew you could tell him whatever you wanted; he knew he wasn’t allowed to ask in for details; he knew he was only there functioning as a link for you to get absolved from your sins and you were a young woman granted of free will and enough time to ask for absolution but he wanted to know; he needed to know who that man was.

“He is ol–older than me,” he heard you mumble and his hands tightened their grip on each other “and I can’t have him, father, I–I’ve been having these thoughts about a forbidden man.”

Dave’s mind went reeling, and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like to assume about the life of his congregation members, he never did, but you were talking to him, after he had been dreaming about you for days, after you two shared something about desiring another man. And he was angry. He wanted to know who. He wanted to know who was keeping your mind the same way you were keeping his.

“He keeps me up at night, thinking of him, that is,” you whispered “I’ve–Jesus,” you let out the air of your lungs and Dave breathed in deeply once more “I’ve touched myself thinking of him.” you said under your breath and Dave felt his chest tug and turn.

“Does this man… know what he is causing in you?” he muttered with a frown and heard you sigh.

“No, I don’t want him to.”

“Alright, child,” he replied after a few seconds, and made a grimace of disgust at the pet name. It felt wrong, and he felt dirty with the word on his mouth, “do you repent these sins?”

“Yes, father, I do.” you closed your eyes at his words and wanted, for once, to be brave and tell him he was the one roaming around your mind. But it wasn’t fair.

“Please, recite in silence the act of contrition,” he muttered to you and you obeyed, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

As he waited for you to finish, he did the same on his side of the confession box

I’m choosing to sin and failing to do good.

“Amen.” you said, and he murmured the word to the ceiling.

“I think the word you do for the church,” he started, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of him knowing it was you “the devotion you have, and how you repent, you don’t need to pay penance,” he muttered separating his hands and putting two fingers on the edge of the patterned panel that separated the two of you “through the ministry of the church,” your breath hitched as he whispered the words to you, and you saw with teary eyes the shadow of his fingers on the panel “man God give you pardon and peace,” you bit your lip and unclutched your hands, lifting your fingers and pressing it to his as two heavy tears fell from your eyes.

Dave felt the pressure of your touch and felt his hand tremble.

“And I ab–absolve you from your sin.” he said under his breath, pressing back.

“Thank you, father.” you whispered, not moving your fingers. You could feel the warmth of his through it and for a few seconds, you could also feel his eyes on your face.

Dave was the one to break the contact first. Absentmindedly brushing his fingers on his stole as he saw the shadow of you move and get out of the confession box.

He sat there, thankful you were the only one that morning and thinking about what you had told him.

A man of God, a man of hope. He had hoped, even if it was a sin and even if it was forbidden by pure creed and vow, that you were feeling the same as he was.

For a moment, he wondered about those thoughts… Were you thinking about that lucky old man touching you? Were you thinking about that man kissing you? What did that man look like? He wanted to be that man; he wanted to be the one whose touch you desired; he wanted to be that man you thought of as you sneaked your hand inside your underwear at night and brought yourself to pleasure. He wanted to be the one whose kiss you yearned for as your sex ached for attention; he wanted to be the one whose fingers you imagined as your own were buried deep inside you.

He fisted the flesh of his thigh over his dress pants and forced himself to stop thinking of you like that.

Dave stayed inside the confession box for twenty minutes more, praying for forgiveness, as he had done every night since you had been back.

At service, he saw you further back on the benches and he tried not to sneak glances at you as you sat there with your precious eyes on the crucifix above him, avoiding him at all costs.

And at communion, he tried not to brush your soft skin with his fingers as he fed you the wined wafer, failing when his knuckle brushed your cheek, his chest deflating when he noticed the way your face quirked in pain when you muttered Amen at him. Dave tried not to make anything of the fact that you kneeled more time than anyone else on the congregation after receiving the communion.

And when the service was over and he was alone in the sacristy, he tried and failed to not think about your skin, your eyes, your hands and your lips all over his neglected body.

That sunday night Father Dave masturbated in the shower thinking about you with your fingers deep inside you as his mind imagined it was him you thought of when you touched yourself in the darkness of the night and prayed for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”–1 Peter 2:11.

Sunday 3.

“Father, sh–shit,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning as your pointer and middle fingers circled your wet clit under the covers of your bed, your legs spread open, the soft cotton of the sheets grazing softly at your inner thighs as you imagined your fingers being one of Father Dave’s, as you imagined him next to you, with his arm above your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and nibbled at your neck while his other hand played your clit like a master pianist. You imagined the hardness of his erection pressing patiently on the skin of your hip, wetting it with pre-semen, making your body burn with the feeling of his warm naked body beside you.

As your other hand played with your nipple you imagined his eyes taking you in, you imagined his lips on your skin, were they soft? you bet they were, and you bet as well his hand would be surprisingly rough for a priest.

“Jesus, fu–fuck.” the knot inside your lower belly exploded with the thought of him and his hand and his body and his lips and his priesthood and you came with a silent scream that made your ears ring for a few seconds and your legs tremble on the bed.

As you hazed out, ready to fall asleep again before your alarm went off to go to work at the church, you felt that familiar guilt cripple inside you and settle in your chest, warming up and leaning against your heart.

Dave was panting, he fisted his hand as he leaned on the tiled wall of his shower and his other hand moved desperately on his cock. The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes shut as he imagined it was your hand on him, giving him the pleasure he was seeking, as he imagined you were behind him, your lips brushing against the wet skin of his back, your free hand around his chest, gliding softly at his skin, making him whimper with your touch.

It was so early for him to be so hot over you again; it wasn’t good for him to give into these desires he had and had been praying so hard and so much to get rid of.

He didn't want to keep doing it and he surely didn’t feel good after it, but his body ached for you, his chest turned every time he thought about you, every time he saw you around the church, he felt the deepest, hottest desire for you and your hands and your body and he just couldn’t help it.

His hand gripped and pumped as fast as he could and he came with a silent groan, opening his eyes as he finished milking every drop of his seed and watched it mix with the shower water and go down the drain. Along with the decency and morality that was left inside him.

You heard your name being said, and you turned around as you finished picking up your things from the small desk you used to teach the catechism; you saw Mrs. Vega, the church custodian, a small, old lady that had known you forever, walking towards you.

“I’m sorry dear, but I want to ask you for something.” she said when you smiled at her.

“Of course, Mrs. Vega, what is it?” you put your small book inside your bag and hung it from your shoulders.

“You see, the little twins that help Father Dave are sick today,” you frowned at the mention of Father’s Dave name but let out a sad sigh at her statement, “and they can’t come help with the service, you’re the youngest of the teachers, could you do it?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and felt your stomach churn inside you at the thought of standing next to the altar for a whole service.

“Me?” you asked, your voice in a high pitch as Mrs. Vega reached for your arm and tugged you to walk out of the chapel and into the navel of the church.

“Yes, dear, remember only the youngest get to do it.” she obviated, pulling you with her to the transept and up two steps to the sanctuarium “you only need to hand him the communion things and the holy water, I will prepare everything for you.”

“Why don’t you do it?” you asked in a whisper, not daring to take a step further closer to the altar. Mrs. Vega turned to look at you, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you shy, girl?” she asked with a teasing smile “I remember you singing in that kiddie choir we used to have and doing it terribly,” you chuckled at the memory and bit your lip “it’s only until the boys get that bug they got out of them.” she palmed your arm, and you breathed in deeply.

You looked up at the crucified Jesus above the altar and silently begged him for anticipated forgiveness.

Dave almost cursed when he saw you standing next to the altar as he walked across the navel.

The thought of who would replace Bobby and Chris on their altar duties didn’t even cross his mind as he was more worried about praying for the boys and sending them some sweets and pleading for the cleansing of his soul after the incident on his shower earlier that morning.

As he stepped up to the sanctuarium your eyes locked on his and he noticed you lips parting when he nodded his chin once at you, he noticed the way you swallowed as you nodded back and for a brief second, his imagination ran wild and made him believe you felt the same way as he did about you.

Even if it was the wrongest thing to think about.

It was like torture.

An hour of torture.

You got to see him kneel behind the altar and kiss the white pressed cloth softly as he stood, as you wanted and wished to be the altar’s cloth he pressed his plump lips on, he crossed himself and you mimicked his movements. And for a brief fraction of a second, as he opened his arms to the sky, you saw him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. And his eyes burned in your skin, they made you feel like your chest was aflame.

The communion time arrived, and he turned to you as you grabbed the chalice with the wine, his eyes locked with yours and you felt them weigh heavy on your body.

Dave couldn't concentrate, he felt on his side the way you were looking at him. It was heavily distracting for him to have you there, in his space, so close to him.

His hands brushed yours when he took the chalice from you and he stood there for less than a second, his fingers on yours. His soft touch and warm skin made your lips tremble with the emotion that touching him gave you. You felt a shiver go up and down your spine and the small hairs of your nape rose as his hands trapped yours.

You caught your lip between your teeth as he broke the contact and you knew he noticed; he looked at your lip as you bit it, and you blushed under his and God’s gaze.

You watched him and he felt you observing him as he prepared the wafers and wined them inside the chalice.

Your throat knotted when he lifted the cup to the sky and you felt your mouth dry as he brought the rim to his lip and his neck strained while he took a sip of the sacramental wine.

Because of the closeness you could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the wine, you noticed a small drop of the crimson red liquid escape from his lips and the way he trapped it with his tongue settled deep inside your belly and leaked through your sex.

The pain of the greatest guilt you’ve ever felt in your short life appeared again and clawed its way inside your chest and to its now usual spot right next to your heart, you were struggling to keep your thoughts at bay; you were looking at Father Dave, right in front of you, doing what he dedicated his life to, and you were imagining him using his hands on your body instead of handling the instruments of the church.

Would he touch you like that? would he treat you with the same delicacy as he treated the body of Christ? would he caress you as softly as he did the chalice? would his mouth be warmed with your taste as it was by the wine he drank?

Dave turned to you and he saw you clutching your hands together, you walked towards him slowly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, almost as if air went through you, as if instead of giving steps your feet barely touched the floor because you were floating.

Everything slowed down, the music of the organ in the balcony, the prayers of the congregation, even the way he moved slowed down so he could focus on your face; on your sweet eyes, those that had brought into him the feeling of humanity, on your soft skin that had scorched his hand when he dared brushed his fingers on it, on your lips, those lips that he couldn’t pray out of his head.

He lifted his hand with the wined wafer, and even the way those holy lips of yours parted was slowed down.

Your eyes connected with his and Dave felt it in his body, deep inside his stomach, the temptation, the whispers of his mortal body as it reacted to your actions; he put the wafer between your lips delicately and pushed it inside your mouth, and then, as if by the grace of God in the heavens, you closed your mouth while he did it, and your lips wrapped softly around the pad of his finger as he pulled them away from you.

And just like that, the world started moving at its usual pace.

His skin tasted sweet. And you spent the rest of the service thinking about what other parts of him would taste like that.

Would his neck taste the same if you kissed it? would his chest feel like that if you nibbled on it? would his lips be that warm or would they be warmer?

Dave’s finger was burning.

He wanted to chop it off his hand just to stop feeling that flesh-eating guilt of enjoying your lips, your soft, warm lips around it, touching his skin, wetting it with the slick of your mouth.

After the service ended and Dave blessed the congregation, he saw you rush to the exit and he felt the sting of the guilt and the sadness. He wanted to talk to you and offer his apologies before you went home.

Sunday 4.

You weren’t there.

And Dave missed your eyes on him.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”–Romans 12:1.

Sunday 5.

As soon as you walked into the church you felt the eyes of all omnipresent beings on your body. As if the desire that burned deep inside your body left marks all over your skin, that could be visible for all those that looked carefully enough.

You heard your name behind you and jumped slightly, startled. You turned around and felt your blood fall to your feet.

“Father Dave,” you muttered, more to help yourself acknowledge the fact that there he was, standing in front of you, out of habit, his white tab collar was the only piece of his attire that hinted the fact that he was a priest. You tried to control your body as you felt instantly that flame inside your chest beginning to spread.

“You weren’t here last week,” he said, hesitating to step closer to you “are you okay?”

You nodded a few times and bit your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Are you sure?” Father Dave asked, and you dropped your eyes to the floor and saw him give a couple of steps towards you, your breath hitched and your entire body began to shiver when you felt his hand on your arm “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“What?” you looked up to see him and you could notice his pained quirk, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his lips… those lips you had spent all but two weeks imagining printing themselves and making marks on your skin, on a sad, downwards line.

“Can I please talk to you?” he said again in a whisper and you opened your mouth to reply, but only air came out, “please?”

His deep brown eyes were on yours and you felt your chest turn by the feeling of having him so close. You nodded, and he turned to the sides, as if he was making sure there was no one there, and guided you to the sacristy.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit altered when he opened the door and let you in first, followed you and closed the door behind him.

“I just needed to be alone with you for a minute,” he clarified, you let your eyes wander around the small space where he got ready every day for the services instead of letting them settle on him, because you knew being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation at all “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned and looked at him. He had his back almost glued to the door and his hands together, his thumbs fidgeting with each other.

“Apologize for what?” you muttered, and he sighed.

“I’m–I make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

Dave felt stupid telling you that, but it was his truth; he spent every free moment of his days when you weren’t near him thinking maybe it was because of him. It would make sense, that you didn’t want to be there because you didn’t like his closeness, that you didn’t want to be there because he was taking advantage of his position to steal glances and give furtive touches.

He understood, but you were an excellent woman, devoted and committed to the congregation, and he knew he needed to stop or you would leave and he would never see you again. And he couldn’t have that.

“You aren–you…” you babbled, and then the look he gave you made you lose your words.

His eyes were all over you. And you could feel them on your skin, how they took you in, how they navigated through your body and every inch of you was immediately on fire.

Then he looked at your face and you swore you could see in his brown eyes the deepest form of devotion there was. And your mouth was agape and your eyes filled with tears and suddenly he was in front of you and his hands were orbiting your face.

“Can I touch you?” he said, and you nodded.

He cupped your face, and you felt his warm, rough hands scorching your skin as you closed your eyes. His warmth started mixing with your own and you could feel him inside you already. It was as if everything you needed in life was already there.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his fingers started caressing the skin of your face, tracing your features “I swear you don’t”

Dave let out a sigh when his thumb traced the edge of your lips and he so wanted to lean down and take them in his. There had been so long since he last kissed someone and he, for a split second, forgot everything about him and the only thought in his mind was you.

“I don’t?” he asked under his breath as a tear rolled down your cheek and he brushed it off with his knuckles, you shook your head and opened your eyes and he felt his heart fill with the purest love he had ever felt in his life “you swear?” you curled your lips up and nodded twice.

“Can I tell you something?” you muttered, looking up at him and losing yourself in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Always.”

You allowed your hands to slide to his shoulders and you let out a relieved sigh. They fit perfectly.

“Yo–you are…” he nodded his chin, his hands still cupping your face softly as his eyes studied your face, you let out a trembling sigh and grabbed as much courage as you had left within you “you are the man I’ve been thinking of all this time.”

Dave widened his eyes and the movements of his hands stopped, he looked at you, searching for any hint of mischief or lie, searching for something that could tell him you were lying, that you were playing with him. But there was none.

“That’s why I wasn’t here last week,” he heard you say as he felt his heart burn with the flames of his desire and love “I was embarrassed after what happened at the communion.”

You looked at him for a second, waiting for the rejection, waiting for him to tell you what you already know, that he can’t for you what you wanted him to be, that he can’t give you what you wanted as his duty was with God and not with the mortals, let alone with a woman.

Father Dave had resigned to the pleasures of the mundane world; you knew that, but you also knew he deserved to know, even if nothing would happen.

“Am I?” he asked you, bewildered after such confession, you nodded and moved your hands to cup his face, a gesture that made him close his eyes. You wondered when was the last time, if ever, he had been touched like that “we can’t” he replied, opening his eyes and leaning in to you.

You could feel his breathing mixing with yours as the implications of his words fell on you.

“We can’t” he repeated, pushing his forehead to yours as you trembled under his touch.

“You want to?” you asked him and Dave asked for guidance in his mind as you started crying and wetting his hands. He nodded, and you sobbed.

“I can’t” he whispered, and you shook your head as he looked at you pouring your feelings from your eyes.

“Kiss me.” you pleaded, looking into his brown, deep eyes. Making him frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not gonna give me anything, at least kiss me.”

His face quirked from confusion to pain in an instant, and you gripped the hold on his face.

“Please, Dave.”

Dave sighed at the way you whispered his name without calling him a father, and deep inside him he was grateful. With you he didn’t feel like a man of god, with you, letting him touch you and touching him back, he only felt like a man. Like the man he never got the chance to be.

“I–I” he started, and you shook your head. Dave looked into your eyes and all the air he had stored in his lungs left his body in a hurry, you were the most precious being he had ever seen, and for a second, he wanted nothing but to make worth the fact he had you in his hands “shit.” he said under his breath.

Dave brought your face up to him and printed his lips on yours, stealing the little air and the close to no coherence you still had in you. You let out a soft moan out of the surprise and out of the feeling of your entire body warming up to his temperature.

His lips were as soft and as wars and better than you had imagined, they were a bit dry and hesitant on yours, but the contact of them with yours made you feel like you were floating away from the realm of the living.

Dave didn’t want to stop kissing you. He didn’t remember the last time he had kissed a woman, and in that moment he wasn’t kissing any woman he was kissing you; the precious being that had been in his mind for weeks and that had never left.

Unsure of his movements, he let you take control of the contact and soon enough you were sliding the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, Dave let out a surprised grunt and opened his mouth slightly of you, and you took his lower lip with your mouth. And he let you kiss him all you wanted, enjoying the contact of your slow, wet, warm lips on his less experienced ones until he was sure his lungs were screaming from the lack of air.

When he broke the kiss, he left a small one on your forehead and pressed his lips there and you closed your eyes to feel him settle inside you

“I’m sorry.” you whispered to his neck. And he nodded slightly.

“Me too.”

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”–Matthew 5:28.

Sunday 6.

Your knuckles grazed softly with the sacristy door and you heard the muffled noise of the latch and the door opened.

“Hi,” you smiled and Dave looked at you up and down “got your text.”

“Come in.” he motioned his hand for you to hurry and you turned your head to both sides and walked into the sacristy, closed the door behind you and slid the latch.

Immediately after the door was locked, you felt his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“This is why you texted me?” you teased and he moved to let a kiss on your jaw.

“I missed you.” he muttered and turned your body around for you to face him.

“You didn’t.” you smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his neck, grateful for the apparently deliberate choice of him to take off his tab collar.

“Yes, I did, I missed you all day.” Dave leaned towards you and took your lips in his, already knowing, after less than a week’s practice, how you loved being kissed.

His lips were as warm as they always were, his tongue barely present if not just to taste the sweetness of your lipstick, his hands always steady on your waist, and at the end, his forehead on yours, just taking in your breaths with his.

“Mass starts soon.” you said, and he nodded, sliding his hands to your middle back to wrap you closer to him.

“I know.” he left another brief kiss on your lips.

“You gotta get dressed.” you murmured against his lips.

“I know.” he muttered back and kissed you again.

“Want me to help?” you asked under your breath, just for him, as if you saying it as low as you could would stop God from listening.

“Yes, I would love that.” Dave replied and gave into another deep kiss that stole both your breath and made you want to stop the time so you could kiss until your lips fused together.

“C’mon you need to get ready.” you broke the kiss and stepped away from him, making him smile. You wandered around the sacristy and found his tab collar. You sighed and took it in your hands.

Dave looked at you and noticed the way you looked at the soft plastic piece, he walked towards you and raised his hand to grab yours. As you felt his hand on yours; you turned your head to look at him and smiled softly, and you moved your hands, raising them to carefully lift the collar of his shirt and clasp the piece around his neck.

“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, you nodded and bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you.

Dave moved and walked to the small table against a wall with a large bowl of water and you gazed at him as he washed his hands and whispered a few words. You leaned onto the wall just looking at him go to a small cabinet near the opposite corner and took a white, folded linen garment, which he unfolded and you recognized as the long robe he used under all his attire.

He slid it off and whispered another prayer again as he let it fall and graze his ankles. His eyes went to you and you smiled at him, he next grabbed a green square that you also recognized and you walked to him and took it out of his hands.

“Let me do it” you whispered, and he nodded, you unfolded the long stripe that was the stole and found its middle, Dave crouched a bit to help you and you let it fall around his neck over his shoulders.

“Return to me the stole of immortality,” he whispered, looking at your eyes, your throat dried at the deepness of his voice “which I have lost in the sin of my first parent and although I, unworthy,” he continued and took your hand in his “approach thy sacred mystery grant to me everlasting joy.”

You gripped his hands and felt your throat knotting around itself.

“Why are you praying to me?” you asked under your breath. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought you close to his face.

“You’re holy.” he whispered and left a soft kiss on your lips.

“Stop it.” you chastised him and he shook his head, giving you a soft smile that you reciprocated immediately.

You turned to the table and saw a long, golden cord and you took it.

“Not that one.” he muttered, and you frowned.

“Why not?” you saw him taking a deep breath as he took it from your hand and left it back on the table.

“The cincture… it means chastity and continence.” he replied under his breath and you let out all the air of your lungs as he took his chasuble and put it on without looking at you.

“Dave.” you called, and he lifted a hand to you as he said the last prayer. When he finished, he looked at you and as if he read your mind, he smiled at you and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking you again in his hands and pulling softly so your head rested on his shoulders “don’t apologize please.”

“I need to,” you mumbled against the light fabric of the green chasuble “I’m keeping you from your vow.”

Dave grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from his body, his hands slid to your face and you gripped his wrists as he brought your face to his.

“You’re not doing anything, my love,” he muttered the last words directly on your lips as he stole a few kisses from your trembling mouth “you’re perfect,” he panted out and you shook your head “I’m doing this because I want to, please understand it,” he kissed you again, a bit more desperately “you’re the most divine creation I’ve ever laid my eyes and hands upon,” he whispered rapidly on your lips “and I want you to be mine.”

You gasped as the words left his mouth, and he gazed at you.

“Dave...” you started, but he didn’t let you finish, he wrapped his arms around you and brought your body to his, tightening the embrace as he thought of the implications of what he just asked.

Dave lifted his eyes to the ceiling and for the first time in years, with you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist, exactly over the place the cincture was supposed to go around, and the sweet aroma of your perfume inundating his senses, he felt really close to heaven.

“I want you to be mine too.” you whispered into his ear, and he smiled, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights!”–Song of Solomon 7:6.

Sunday 7.

You stirred on your seat again, the organ was playing the latest song before Dave would bless the congregation and wrap up the service and you were nervous.

You glanced at the crucified Jesus above him and you felt his eyes on yours; you felt him shove his holy hand on your chest and as the last notes of the song inundated the navel, you felt your throat sting with the green tint of your deep guilt, but at the same time, the rest of your body drown with the red warmth of your love and desire for Dave.

Is it worth it? you heard inside your head and your immediate response was yes.

Eternal damnation in exchange for a few hours of love. It was condemnedly worth it.

The service was over and you stood up with the rest of the congregation; you talked with a few people on your way out of the church and slowly and patiently you waited for everyone to disperse.

You walked around the gardens outside the church and slid between the gate that marked the beginning of Dave’s small house inside the church grounds. You rummaged around your small bag and pulled out the key he had given you earlier and with nervousness and the familiar guilt settled next to your heart; you let yourself into his house.

You turned on the lights. The space wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small and everything around smelled like him. For a priest’s home, the place lacked religious imagery, and you automatically chastised yourself for thinking about his priesthood again.

You sat on the loveseat next to the door as you waited for him and got dragged inside your head again; you talked about doing that throughout the week and you had agreed it was something you both wanted. But your head sent you through an unwanted train of thought and you sat there, thinking about the future. Something you hadn’t talked about.

After all, he would still be a priest and you would still be a young member of his congregation. You could spend time with him and let you love him and let him love you as much as you two wanted, but in the future… what else was there for you?

You could never ask him to leave his habit for you, you could never ask him to leave his life for you, you could never do something like that to him. But you were unsure if something like that had any other path but failure.

The door opened and there he was, unclasping his tab collar and dropping it on the end table as you rose from your seat and walked to him. He smiled at you and his hands found his place on your waist.

“You’re here.” he said, not surprised but relieved.

As he took off his attire in the sacristy and walked to his house from the church, he had a few minutes to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t allow himself to overthink it because if there was something he knew was that he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his life. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but he knew there was something about you that made him feel human, there was something about you that made him feel like he belonged somewhere, maybe the way you talked to him, maybe the way you kissed him, maybe the way you always seemed to understand the moral and spiritual dilemma he was in. He didn’t know, but he knew that he loved you, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even when he wasn’t allowed.

And as he thought of it, love was one of the laws of the God he represented, and he felt it deeply.

“I’m here.” he pulled you to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded.

“Thank you.” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, shaking your head at him.

You felt his lips on yours as they re-discovered your kisses and his hands roamed to your middle back to press your chest to his.

You were amazed by how fast he had learned how you liked to be touched, how you liked to be kissed and caressed, as if he was just trying to commit to memory everything you ever wanted and he wanted to do it to you to please you.

Dave slid his hands from your back down to your hips and moved you softly to the side, without breaking the kiss he snaked his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you. You smiled in his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to his bedroom.

When you crossed the doorframe you started leaving small kisses on the skin of his neck and he sat on the edge of his bed with you in his lap, you were already feeling the hardness growing inside his pants and his hands started grazing up and down your thighs as he let you taste his neck how you best pleased.

Dave was in a haze. He understood then the power of physical touch combined with deep love; it enhanced the sensations, the flame inside his chest was burning him from the inside out with a deep desire he was sure he had never felt before, and you were there, moving slowly on his lap as you devoured the skin of his neck and kissed slowly around his jaw.

“Dave,” you whispered as you licked his earlobe and pulled out a shiver from him, he hummed in question “touch me.”

He didn’t hesitate on questioning where, his hands roamed all around your body, they were big and warm and they were rough; you cupped his jaw with both hands and took his lips in yours with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that he followed as his hands snuck inside your shirt and you moaned softly at the feeling of skin to skin.

You moved out of his lap and stood up in front of him, Dave let out a soft whine at the sudden loss of your weight on his body but stopped when you moved his legs open and stood between them.

“Take off my shirt, please.” you told him, not in an order but he obeyed, he grabbed the hem of it and lifted it, you raised your arms and felt his lips on your rib side as you finished taking it off and dropped it on the floor behind you.

Dave put his hands around your torso and licked your skin experimentally, which made you gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue against your skin and he smiled to himself, doing it again and nibbling on the same spot softly.

His hands slid to your waist and without being told to he unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, his eyes directly on yours. You smiled at him with your reddened, kiss-swollen lips and he felt your smile settling inside his lower belly, his cock twitching inside his pants.

You put your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your shoes and jeans and when you were there, standing in front of him only in your underwear, he swore there wasn’t anything more divine than your body.

You sank on your knees and your hands landed on his thighs, Dave’s throat clutched and his chest turned as you smiled at him and your hands slid to his belt, you raised your eyebrows as if asking for permission and he nodded a few times, leaning backward into his hands to give you space for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, his breath hitched when your fingers hooked to the hem of both his pants and his boxers, and then he lifted his hips for you to pull them off him. Dave smiled when he saw you bite your lip at the sight of his hard cock resting on his abdomen. It did something unexpected on what he thought was his dead ego, but he loved the way you looked at it.

“Take off your shirt.” you said and again, without it being an order, he obeyed. Unbuttoned it as quickly as he could and slid it off his shoulders as you leaned over his lap and took his erection on your hand, your thumb grazing softly the tip and he threw his head back between his shoulders.

“Oh, my love.” he sighed out as you started pumping slowly and when he closed his eyes, you licked the underside and wrapped your lips around the tip, making him gasp.

You took it slowly, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum as it came out of him, pumping the rest you couldn’t fit inside your mouth with your hand.

Dave forced his eyes open and moved his head down to watch you, he shivered when he found you already looking at him; he moved his hand to your face and with his knuckles caressed your cheek, making you smile with his cock inside your mouth.

For him, looking at you on your knees between his legs was like looking at a sacrosanct painting; your lips around him taking as much of his length as you could, your saliva dripping from his dick to your hand, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes, those holy eyes that never left his, it was a pleasure he never thought he would get in his earthly life.

He felt himself close to cumming, and he pushed your head softly upwards, you rose from your knees and clashed your messy lips onto his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands roaming around the skin of your back. His fingers played with the back of your bra and he broke the kiss for a few seconds to unhook it and help you slide it off, you smiled when he sighed at the sight of your breasts in front of his face and he pulled you flush against his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue around the soft skin of your nipple made you cry out his name softly and arousal gathered between your legs. One of his hands rested on your other boob and kneaded delicately as you fisted his hair in your hand. Dave moved his mouth to your other nipple and lapped at it before trapping it inside his mouth, you pressed his head to your chest and let out a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple as he released it.

“I wanna taste you.” he muttered against your boob and you smiled at him, nodding.

He moved you softly to lie down on the bed; the sheets were cool and soft and he stood on the edge, taking you in again, studying your body.

He leaned down to you and you opened your legs to make space for him; he hovered over your body and kissed you again, softly, as if you were back in time to the first kiss he gave you in the sacristy, as if he wasn’t about to devour your body.

His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and your chest, he left one in each nipple, making you laugh, he left a trail of them over your belly and one over your belly button. As he kissed your abdomen and your thighs, you looked at the ceiling and you smiled at whoever was watching.

Dave took the hem of your panties on his fingers and you lifted your hips for him to slip them off you, you lifted your legs and he unhooked them from your ankles, grabbing your calves and opening your legs again. He gulped when he saw your wet, expectant pussy right in front of him and looked at your flushed face. He leaned down and left kisses around your thighs without breaking eye contact.

“Guide me.” he whispered and left a kiss right over the hood of your clit, making you moan.

You nodded once, and he looked at your pussy, opened the lips gently with his fingers and blew on your slick folds, making you shiver. He flattened his tongue and licked from your slit to your clit, tasting your arousal, moaning at the richness of it.

You slid your hand to your clit and looked at him.

“Here.” you mumbled, circling a few times to show him how. He had told you he had sex before his ordination, because he didn’t want to go into his holy orders without having experienced it and wondering for the rest of his life what he had missed, but he said it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be and before you, he thought he would never know. So you had to show him what you wanted and what you liked because his experience wasn’t vast.

Dave did as you showed and you moaned out loud, the pads of his fingers were warmer and bigger than yours and he was handling you so delicately you were already on edge.

He kept licking and circling your clit and then, without a second thought, he moved his fingers away and started circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh m–my god,” you fisted his hair, pushing his face into your pussy and he pressed your hips onto the mattress, looking at your face with your mouth opened in pleasure and your eyes closed shut “Dave ke–keep doing that baby,” you pleaded and he did it, and started playing the pad of one of his fingers on your slit, making your hips buck slightly he saw you pant and smiled when you slid your free hand to play with your nipple so he added a second one to play with your entrance “inside, put them inside.” you said under your breath and he pushed his fingers slowly inside your cunt, making you let out a long moan of his name, he started pumping and curling his fingers inside as he had imagined you doing it all those weeks ago while touching himself in the shower and closed his eyes to hear you moan his name as he brought you closer and closer to pleasure.

He moved his fingers faster inside of you and hand fisted and pulled his hair as your moans became tamed screams and he thought of them as the most pious symphony that he and only him had the sacred pleasure to hear.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulders as you felt the knot inside your belly explode from his ministrations and you chanted his name over and over as he worked you through your orgasm. You panted for a few seconds and opened your eyes to the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean. You smiled at him and released his hair to motion him to come to you; he hovered over your body again and you put your hand on his nape to bring him to you; you moaned softly at your own taste and you felt it smile on your lips.

“What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Did you like it?” he asked back on your lips, you nodded and cupped his clean-shaven jaw, leaving a deep kiss on his lips.

“I loved it,” he smiled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his cock brushing lightly against your folds. “make love to me, Dave.”

You saw his smile widen, and it was his turn to nod to you, he kissed you again while his hand worked on aligning himself to you; he slid the tip through your folds and you gasped on his mouth when he found your entrance and started pushing in.

He did it slowly, no rush; he wanted to feel you in every inch of his cock; he wanted you to feel him and every ridge and vein of him as he found his home in you.

You nipped at his lip as he bottomed up and smiled when he stayed there, inside you, enjoying the wait for your body to acclimate to his, you looked into his eyes and you felt it.

You felt how you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As if his body was made for you and your body was made for him.

It felt right.

It felt sacred.

Dave started moving at a calmed pace and you with him, quickly finding a rhythm where your hips moved almost in unison and he thrusted into you deeply every time he moved. He was supporting his weight on one arm next to you while the other gripped your hip and helped you with the tantalizing dance you both were having.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck when your hands moved to his back and you pulled his body down to yours, his chest gliding yours and his hips circling as he thrusted faster into you.

Dave moaned into your neck when you scratched his back as his thrusts became pounds.

“Harder, please, baby, harder.” you whispered into his ear and he listened, driving into you as fast as his body allowed, the noise of his skin clashing with yours and the wetness of you leaking around his cock flooded the room and his moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his skin chanting his name as you got closer and closer to your second release.

“Yo–you’re a goddess,” he muttered into the skin of your neck as his cock grazed your cervix, his hand wrapped around your hips and he lifted your ass for him to thrust deeper, making you moan his name loudly “you’re m–my go–goddess.”

You slid your hands to his ass and fisted his buttcheeks, pushing him further into you.

Dave felt his orgasm closer and closer every time he drove into you and your warm walls started to clench around him with the closeness of your orgasm, he nibbled the skin of your neck and clutched his eyes shut tighter when his body started to stiffen as he pounded into you; he muttered your name a few times like a prayer he never knew he needed to make, and it sounded right, your name in his voice as he drove himself and you to climax, his own name on your sweet voice as you begged him for everything he had in himself, it was all right, it was all correct, there was nothing wrong, how could he had felt so guilty about it when it was the most perfect, most righteous, most sacred, most heavenly action he could do.

You in his arms, your hands on his body, his cock inside your cunt, you wrapped around him begging him to cum inside you, everything about it was all he could have asked for to feel like he was in heaven. He had almost said no to feel it, and he bursted inside you at the same time as you broke in pieces around him, thinking that he would rather live his life with you around him than his afterlife in heaven.

“I love you.” he muttered against the skin of your neck and you opened your eyes after riding the high of your orgasm and looked at the ceiling.

You frowned when you heard his words and when you remembered what he said to you before he came, and as you turned to the side to see him that red warmth you had felt earlier disappeared almost completely and the bright green taint of the deep guilt inside you washed over your body and your soul.

He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. His expression changed as he realized you weren’t going to answer his confession.

“Dave,” you whispered and his face changed, his brow furrowed and you saw his jaw tighten “what did we just do?”

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#dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york pit #dave york the equalizer #the equalizer #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer fanfic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #priest dave york

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

Text

title : cigarettes and parfaits [1] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, super duper mild angst, slice of life, josei, bad comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, very,very mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT BECAUSE NANAMI DESERVES HAPPINESS)

Notes: after repeatedly giving you jjk angst, i have been very happy to announce that i am able to write something fluffy now. Yay! (Anyways this is based on the manga sesame salt and pudding, yall better read that. It’s just *chefs kiss*) also this may or may not be written ebcause of the amount of smoll nanami content i’m seeing around this site hmPH

masterlist || taglist || [next ; updates every friday]

The sound of your alarm blared at the crack of dawn, making you immediately jerk up in an unfashionable manner, you shouldn’t drink on Sunday nights. Good lord, why did you even do that?-

Your thoughts are cut short though when you feel something, better yet, someone, next to you. It’s dark but you could definitely tell that whoever this stranger is, had settled himself quite comfortably by your side. You blink once then twice then slowly reached out to switch your lamp open to get a good look on who was next to you.

Thankfully, you’re still in your clothes from last night.

Also, who the fuck is this?

Your brows are furrowed together as you try to remember who this person was. Blonde hair and jaw so sharp that it could probably cut the vegetables on your kitchen counter, some fine lines littered his face as he wrinkled his forehead in his sleep.

The tie on his neck is loose as you slowly peered to observe him even more and for some odd reason that made your ears turn bright red as you check out his rather lean figure (he wasn’t overly muscular, he was just right)

“Oh shit.” You mumbled, snapping out of your daze, you had to focus! This was a stranger for crying out loud, “Who the-”

Before you could even say anything more, his eyes shot open and you’re greeted by chocolate brown eyes. You try to stutter out a reply, clearly in your frazzled state the only thing you could let out was, “What the fuck?”

“Oh, you’re awake.” his voice was deep and quite raspy, and daresay, it suited his rather sharp appearance.

Was this stranger awake this whole time that you were gawking at him under the dim light? Your ears turn even a brighter shade of pink. Was it just the heater or was this room getting hotter than it should be?

Yet despite your flustered state though, he thankfully remains oblivious, “Are you feeling any better?” he asks.

Despite his bland facial expression, there was a certain warmth in his tone and that made your heart beat quicken. It wasn’t everyday that you’d wake up to find a good looking older gentleman next to you after all, “I’m good…” You shyly replied, the confidence you had moments ago while you were cursing him was gone when you heard his soft tone, “I- sorry but who are you? What happened?”

He stares at you for a moment and purses his lips, “Nanami Kento.” he introduces himself briefly. From the likes of it, he seemed like a professional, “To be honest, I don’t have much recollection from last night due to the alcohol. When I woke up a few moments ago, you wouldn’t let go and I had no choice but to lay there and wait for you to wake up.”

You paled just a bit at his explanation and turned bright red right after, how embarrassing! Not only did you just embarrass yourself in front of this older gentleman awhile ago, you did something so unlike you last night! Thank god this ojisan was a lot more calmer than you. He didn’t even look that perplexed or annoyed by your state at all.

He runs his hands through his soft blonde hair after and lets out a low groan.

“D-Does your head hurt, Nanami-san?”

“Yes.”

“I-would you-” you tried to stammer a few words out yet you're immediately cut off by his phone ringing.

Right, boundaries. You shouldn’t overstep them since you already did so much last night to disturb him despite you two being so out of it. You watch him as he answers his cell phone in a quick and suave manner, all traces of hungover gone, “Nanami speaking.” He greets as soon as he answers the call, “I understand. Please try to help them out and I apologize for the inconvenience.”

He ends the call and stands up, tightening his tie. Despite him spending the night here, he still looked orderly and it’s so unfair because right now, you knew you looked like absolute shit with the alcohol and booze in your system.

“I have to take my leave now. I apologize for intruding.” he bows down formally.

You’re pretty sure you were the one who intruded, his actions makes you immediately stand up despite the throbbing headache which was definitely a wrong move because the moment you did, you felt your legs giving out.

Great.

“I-sorry, I would bow…” You tried to stammer out an apology, ears bright red once again, just how much could you embarrass yourself in front of this gentleman? “Sorry for the intrusion too Nanami-san.”

He leaves without saying anything much to your relief and as soon as you hear your front door close, you scream right at the pillow.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You muffled at the pillow.

Thank God you wouldn’t be seeing him ever again!

“L/N-sensei.”

You turn to find Maki and Megumi standing there, they were members of a rather elite family in Tokyo, Most often you avoided bumping shoulders with Megumi’s father since he was, well, quite a tease and although you do admit that Toji Zen’in is a very good-looking and fine man from a very good background, you couldn’t look past the fact that you taught his kids mathematics and there was a good fifteen year age gap between you two, “Hi there.” A warm smile dances on your lips, “Is this about the earlier math problem again?”

The question was directed to Maki, Megumi wasn’t one to ask questions about his lessons since he wasn’t fond of academics.

“Actually, it isn’t. Toji-ojisan says you should come to his birthday.” Maki shrugged, “He says his 40th birthday wouldn’t be complete if you weren’t there.”

Ah, that’s why Megumi didn’t want to go alone. The young boy’s cheeks are painted pink, clearly embarrassed by his father’s antics, “Ah,” You laughed, trying to play it cool. Despite his father’s relentless teasing, he had never made you feel uncomfortable. If he hadn’t been asking you out a few times, you’d consider him a friend, “Your otosan does love to joke around a lot doesn’t he, Megumi-kun?”

“I could deck him for you if you’d like, sensei. I swear that old man needs to realize that you’re way too young and good for him.” He mumbles the last part, clearly annoyed.

“Oh have you gotten married, L/N-sensei?” Maki cuts her younger cousin off suddenly, clearly surprised, “I thought you never had a boyfriend..or girlfriend...or a lover…”

“I- excuse me?” You sweatdrop, “Married, where?”

“Am I mistaken? You have a silver band on your ring finger at your left hand.” Maki points out, “Congrats sensei! It seems like Toji-ojisan won’t be bothering you anymore!”

You were too much in a frazzled state this morning that you hadn’t even noticed the ring band on your finger. You weren’t married, heck, you haven’t dated since college but where in the hell did you get this ring?

“L/N-san?” You’re snapped back to reality by a coworker, “We have two new enrollees, would you mind handling them since they’ll be added to your section?”

“Right,” You smile, “That’s my cue to leave. I’ll get going now. Enjoy your snack time.”

Before Maki could say anything more about the silverband on your ring finger, you scurried away to the faculty room, shaking that weird feeling off since you had to get back to work.

Job first, ring later.

As you went in, two abnormally bleached pink hair stood out and you could immediately tell that they were going to be the new kids that you’d be teaching. You walk closer, realizing how much they looked alike despite the markings on the other.

“Hi, Good morning.” You greeted kindly, “You must be the new kids.”

“Ah,” the one with tattoo markings on his face gloated, “Aren’t you too bright?”

“Sukuna, shut up.” his twin frowned, “Sorry Sensei, My brother isn’t feeling so well since our ojisan had told us off before going to school.”

It seemed like the other twin would be a handful, nevertheless, you were still going to be his teacher so you let out a small smile, “It’s fine.” You waved off, “We all have bad days, don’t we? I’m L/N-sensei and I’ll be your homeroom and math teacher.”

“Hai.” The one without tattoos replied, enthusiasm leaking on his tone, “Itadori Yuuji and this is Itadori Sukuna, please take care of us.”

You watch Yuuji force his twin to bow down to show a sign of respect. For a high schooler, Sukuna and Yuuji’s parents seemed so lax, bleached hair and tattoos? That was definitely a first one on your list. You take a look at the data they passed and a small frown settles on your lips, it seemed like you had to take back the words you said earlier.

Both their parents had died a few years ago.

You cleared your throat and tried to put on the smile and enthusiasm from earlier, “I’ll be sure to introduce you to the class right after break and since it’s your first day I’ll be lax but please try not to go in late again.”

Yuuji’s grin remains the same as he agrees enthusiastically while Sukuna still looks mildly uninterested, something that you realize oh-so quickly that you’ll have to get used to.

After introducing the twins to the class, you settle on your desk at the faculty and peer at the ring on your finger. The only conclusion you could come up with was that this was from the older gentleman from the night before but why would he even give you a ring?

It didn’t even look cheap and it was surprisingly just your size, meaning it was definitely for you.

You inwardly let out a groan as you placed your hand on top of your eyes. God, you definitely needed to lay off the alcohol next time. You feel the phone in your pocket start to ring, peerlessly glancing at the unknown number. People really need to lay off the scam calls.

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m not-”

“Yo-ho, is this Y/N-chan?” The voice on the other line is so unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time.

“Uh, who is this?”

“Is your husband with you?” the voice sounds so playful and teasing that you almost ignore what he had just said earlier.

“E-Excuse me?” You sputtered out, cheeks turning red, “I don’t have a husband.”

“Huh…” the playful voice switches to disappointment, “Don’t tell me you forgot what happened with us last night, L/N-chan.”

You feel something bubbling on your stomach, oh no, this definitely didn’t sound good!

“I- wait, what? who are you? What do you mean? what happened?” countless of questions started to pile up in your head and out of your mouth, panic immediately engulfing you because for a prank call this guy sounded way too legit, confirming your irresponsibility the night before.

“Silly Y/N-chan. How could you ever forget me? I’m such an important person! I’m Gojo Satoru, your witness from your wedding!”

taglist (if crossed out, i cant tag u im so sorry ack ;-;)

; @coldbookworm ; @frankenstein852 ; @neavil ; @shephard17895 @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb

@Kurok1717 ; @hcn421 ; @shinhiromi ; @airybnb ; ;

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you

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well-fuuuck · 3 years ago

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Slightly Modern LU AU

So here is a long post on an AU I have made for Linked Universe. It's gonna be a doozy, so it's under the cut.

Originally, this was supposed to be a fully modern AU. But actually expanding on it I realized I wasn't totally following that line of thought. So only certain aspects of this world are 'modern'. Things that are modern:

There are colleges and high schools. There are foster homes. Some transportation (there are trains [tends to be expensive though] for long-distance travel, but horses are used for shorter travel). There is electric lighting

This list may be expanded the longer this au goes on.

Ok now that I got that out of the way, let's get to the plot!

I don't want to reveal too much of the actual plot, in case I ever find the motivation to actually write this thing but a very short synopsis is:

Hyrule has been in a state of peace for a while, trade is booming and they're on relatively good terms with their neighboring countries. Unfortunately, the Yiga clan has been gaining allies and getting stronger while staying in the shadows. Only a select few people know about the dangers the Yiga clan possesses but are they willing to risk their lives to speak up?

So that is a very broad summary of what I am going for. It isn't too complicated that yall know of. I feel like my brain is all over the place, hopefully this whole thing makes sense lmao

Ok, let's get to our favorite boys (plus a few other important people)

Time and Malon are married (38 & 39). They have two adopted sons; Legend and Wind. They adopted Legend when he was 13 (now 19), and they have an extremely close relationship. They adopted Wind when he was 13 (now 14), their relationship is still working towards trust. Time and Malon own Lon Lon Ranch. Lon Lon is extremely famous and quite popular. They have intricate dealings with the Hyrulean royal family, and are the main source for milk, eggs, and wheat. They also breed horses.

Legend's mom is dead and dad is out of the picture, though he has an uncle he is on good terms with (he lives kinda far away tho). When he turned 17 he took two gap years (Lorule, Koholint, Labrynna, Holodrum). He learned a lot of different skills on his journey. He is a student at the local college (with Sky and Twilight) and has an apprenticeship with Four’s grandfather.

Wind was split from his younger sister when he was 8, he is still trying to find her (Time and Malon do not know about Aryll). He is in high school, with Four, Hyrule, and Wild. (I'm still working out a few kinks with Wind's character and plot)

Warriors (26) runs a home for at-risk youth. He is the legal guardian over Hyrule (17) and Wild (17). Warriors was relieved of duty to the royal guard after a serious injury when he was 25. Before he was relieved, Time was the one who taught him everything he knows. He is still an amazing fighter, even with a limp and one and a half working arms. Warriors is still very close to Artemis, Impa, and Lana. He knows all the gossip from inside the castle. When asked, he also helps with strategizing and battle plans.

Hyrule has been with Warriors for a few years (probably as long as Legend has been with Time). Hyrule’s parents died when he was 8. From what he can remember, they had always been on the run from someone or something. He is originally from Labrynna. A knight of Hyrule caught him stealing food. Instead of reprimanding him, the knight took him in (Warriors). The Yiga are searching for Hyrule for his blood. Hyrule is oblivious to what his blood can do.

Wild has only been with Warriors a few months. Wild was found by authorities stumbling around lost and confused. When questioned they found out he had memory problems - he can’t remember anything from his past and doesn’t even know his own name. The Yiga do play a part in him losing his memories (I have a lot more for Wild's own story...but I don't wanna spoil anything good)

Sky (21) is an ‘exchange’ student from Skyloft. He is a foreigner so people don’t treat him so nice, so he spends a lot of time with Legend (who could give two shits about ethnicity) at school. They make an odd pair. On Skyloft, Sky was a part of the knights but got himself kicked out. He was put on trial and was banned from Skyloft. That is the real reason that he is in Hyrule. No one knows yet, but the first to know is Legend. Sky is suspicious of his banishment from Skyloft- a lot of what happened doesn’t make sense.

Four (16) lives with his grandfather, the blacksmith. He is also an apprentice in blacksmithing, along with Legend. He is good friends with Hyrule, Wind, and Wild (especially Hyrule tho, since they’ve known each other the longest). Four’s dad is a heavy alcoholic, which is why he lives with his grandfather. The dad is kind of a pariah around town, tho not many people know that he is Four’s dad. Four and Dot (Zelda) are secretly good friends. Dot sometimes sneaks out of the castle to visit Four, and sometimes Four will use his abilities to visit Dot inside the castle.

Twilight (20) was sold to the Yiga when he was 5. When Twilight was 15 he killed master Kohga and ran from the Yiga. Rusl found him stumbling around in the woods and took him in. He stayed in Ordon for as long as he could, until the Yiga found him again (so he thinks) and he had to run. Now he is in Hyrule. He goes to college, but he is new to Hyrule. He is slowly making friends with Sky, who understands what it's like being new in town.

Paya (25) is a spy within the Yiga. Actually a member of the Shiekah, she has infiltrated the Yiga, unbeknownst to either her clan or the Yiga. She was there when Twilight killed Master Kohga, and helped him escape (though he didn’t know). She also knew the Yiga were getting closer to Twilight’s location, so sent him a message that would cause him to move.

Tetra (14) is the captain of her pirate crew. Since they travel around so much to distant lands, they’re the first to have an inkling that something isn’t right. They notice the people of Holodrum are not as welcoming, the Twilight Realm is off limits as of recently, an island has gone missing. Also (surprise) Aryll is with Tetra and the pirates. She ran away from a foster home and Tetra found her.

Ok, there are a few other important characters to the main plot, but I can't talk about them without spoiling stuff I don't want to spoil so. I'm trying to figure out what I can disclose about the Yiga...I can only think of one thing so here it is.

Koholint had a powerful Wind Fish living there, so the Yiga destroyed the island. Legend was there when the island (and Marin) was destroyed. Out of ‘luck’, he got out in one piece (physically anyway).

Ok, now on to the royal family! Not too long, I still need to expand on them a bit more, but here is what I got so far

Lullaby (Ocarina of Time Zelda) is queen, not yet married but has suitors. Most of the Zelda’s are all sisters. The King and Queen died by assassination from the Twilight Realm 15 years ago.

Lullaby (37), Artemis (25, from Hyrule Warriors), Dusk (24, from Twilight Princess), Fable (23, from Legend's games), Aurora and Dawn (20, twins, from Hyrule's games), Flora (17, from Breath of the Wild), Dot (16, from Four's games) (Tetra and Sun are not a part of the royal family)

The assassination of the king and queen caused a four-year war between Hyrule and the Twilight Realm. The Twilight king died in this war. It finally ended when Lullaby and Midna’s ‘stand-in’ (she is 9 during this time, so someone had to take her place for a little bit) worked out a peace treaty. Time fought in this war (24-28), making a name for himself. He is considered almost legendary because of what he did for Hyrule.

Hyrule is huge in this AU (basically as big as Breath of the Wild, though I didn't incorporate a lot of botw in this hm). The different 'countries' are all on the Great Sea and are basically huge islands.

Death Mountain (but the Gorons live on Holodrum on Goron Mountain), Kakariko, Lon Lon Ranch, Lake Hylia, Zora’s Domain, Gerudo desert, Rito village are all under Hyrule. The Gerudo, Zora, and Rito have their own smaller governments but they do answer to the Hyrulean royal family

The Lost Woods, Kokiri Forest, and Ordon Village are technically inside Hyrule's borders but are not governed by the royal family.

The Twilight Realm is its own country. Lorule is governed by the Twilight royal family

Skyloft is its own country and is extremely peaceful. Basically Switzerland.

Holodrum is its own country but has no real governing structure. The Gorons live on Holodrum, on Goron Mountain. They tend to stay to themselves up there

Labrynna is its own country - it is a republic. Koholint is under Labrynna’s ‘rule’. Mayor Plen (the main government of Labrynna) resides in Lynna City

Also, no one really knows how strong the Yiga are (and they are extremely formidable in this AU). All of Hyrule believe the Yiga to be a gang of thieves and criminals, not terrorists, murderers, and assassins.

Ok I think that is all of the information I am willing to give out at this moment. There is a lot I haven't put on this post lmao. Let me know what y'all think and feel free to send me your own ideas or thoughts. Thanks for reading this extremely long post lmao

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zhuhongs · 4 years ago

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Okay, yall know the deal, long post reflection time. Post under read more, but feel free to read or ignore. I don’t mind either way, these are just an amalgamation of thoughts i’ve had for a while and I want to post them in a semi public place.

I think a lot of what I post on here is a testament that I'm alive. That my thoughts don’t just exist inside of me. That even though my thoughts and personal posts are usually incredibly specific to my situation, the lessons that they have taught me are quite universal and can be applied to so many people's lives. I think I post these things, as opposed to just keeping them in my google docs, as proof that I’m not alone. My thoughts aren't just a fever dream and my pain isn’t just mine. At our core people are all very much the same. It’s not a bad thing. If anything, it's incredibly comforting. When I was younger, i used to be fiercely individualistic. Convinced that my suffering was uniquely my own and no one could have an inkling of an idea of what I was going through. I know that’s not true.

I realize I often refer to “when I was younger” as if i’m not still pretty young. It might seem odd, really i’m only twenty. But I think back a lot of growing up and what got me to this point, because the lessons there are what have made me, me. And I’m currently really content with who I am, and I think further self reflection will only make me happier.

That was a really long winded intro that I didn’t even mean to write…. I was going to talk about something else entirely. Lmao okay.

Anyways what I wanted to write about was about confessions. I’ve been thinking about all my past relationships a lot bc most of them I had at the beginning of the year so inevitably this time makes me think about those people. Also last night i was talking to an irl of mine about her kinda destructive unrequited crush on this guy shes known for 2.5 years. ANd like it's all bc she wanted a rebound crush to get over her ex gf and now it's been 2 years and it's gotten nowhere. Nd he doesn’t like her and only views her as a friend and she knows that he won’t like her and also that she doesn’t like him, but a version of him that she created in her head and shes annoyed bc it's been so long and she doesn’t kmnow how to continue like this bc it's painful.

And personally, i’m not much help. I’m really the type of person who would just say it even though I know i will be rejected and things could get awkward and we grow apart. I’ve been in these situations and I always confess. Idk i have this kinda personal rule that if I like someone, I need to be the one to say it. I don’t want that person to EVER confront me and be like “hey, i know you like me and ….” because that is mortifying. And conversly, I would NEVER do that to someone. It's so presumptuous and mean spirited and just not necessary unless it's like uncomfortable yk. But that's rare and far between and never happened to me.

I’ve made it a rule to tell someone how I really feel at some point down the line at least. If I have liked you, you will know. I truly do think that people should know how you felt about them, in your own words, not just words from others. I don’t think, however, you should say it as soon as you feel it. Oftentimes, confessing when your emotions are too high, especially negative emotions of self doubt and of rejection, is self destructive. Sometimes, telling someone how you feel is selfish. SOmetimes, that person isn’t in the right state of mind to hear those things. Telling them that you like them and knowing they don’t feel the same may make them feel guilty beyond belief given the situation. And sometimes that person will date you because they feel obligated to and leave you both worse off for it. I know this because I’ve been in both situations and knowing how bad they can suck, I’ve decided on a middle ground. Because I need to tell people how I feel and because I am also considerate of how they may react, I usually confess when i’m removed from the situation. WHen both of us are in a place where we won’t get hurt too badly. Like I confessed to everyone I liked in high school back to back during the last week because it was safe. If they didn’t like me, it wasn’t gonna complicate anything. They didn’t have to see me again. And if they did like me, then cool, we were going to be in college and make things work as semi adults. That's great.

When I do things like this, it often hurts a bit. Because in the process of being considerate of others, I'm holding my own emotions in. I wish there was a less explosive way of liking people. Though for me at this current moment, i don't think that's possible. It’s not bad. I think there's a strange sense of personal satisfaction. A selfish feeling that I’m a good person because I am not hurting others at the expense of myself. In a way, it's beautiful and admirable. Except it’s really not. One day I need to rectify this part of myself with my own self love but that day will come when i’ve grown up a bit more. At my current state I think a little bit of heartache can be good. It builds character. No one needs to know my pain though. Again, if anyone knew all of that, it may make them burdened and when i truly care about someone the last thing I want them to see me as is a burden. I never want to be anyones burden to bare. Be blunt with me, don’t say anyth

I can’t say that my current methods of communication are the most healthy but I think they’re far better than they were just two years ago. I’ve learned a lot and I will continue to learn. I don’t feel like this much recently. I really don’t feel anything at all. It concerns me a lot. But I think when love is ready for me, i’ll find it. I don’t need to rush and for now I can just sit back and grow and give love. It will come back when it wants to. You can’t force anything or anyone. That’s why I don’t push my friends to act like me and just confess. It's a personal rule. I like to do it because I’ve never once regretted saying things. I’ve only regretted my timing. I’m looking to perfect that soon. But life really is too short to not say what you want to say. I’ve learned it a little too hard. So I will go forward and love and say and bea little too much because that is what stays. No one will remember my silent aching and hesitating. They’ll remember someone too flustered, saying something they really meant with good intentions, even if the execution is sloppy. That’s okay. ALl I want is to be remembered. Selfishly, I want to live on in people's hearts. Even if it’s just as the girl you didn’t like, but told you she liked you. And that for once, someone had you as their first choice in their mind. No matter how fleeting. I think that alone is beautiful. That alone is worth ist. I don’t care how laughable it is and how unsightly I may seem. I will do these things to prove to myself that i’m alive. To prove that i’m allowed to be selfish at least a little bit. I’m allowed just a little piece of someone's mind, aren’t I? At my core, I think that to be loved is simply to be remembered. That is all I need.

#1.4k this time... im insane ♡#🐌.txt #text heavy under cut ofc

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conelly · 4 years ago

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( luke hemmings, twenty-two, cismale, he/him ) did you see BYRON CONELLY walking down main street earlier? you know who i’m talking about, they’re a DECKHAND. everybody in town says that they’re SANGUINE & NONJUDGEMENTAL, but have a tendency to be IMPRESSIONABLE & VOLATILE too. BYRON has been in town for ONE AND A BIT years. c'mon, they’re always requesting SWEET CAROLINE by NEIL DIAMOND at karaoke nights. well, i’m sure you’ll see them soon! ( ooc: sunny, 22, she/her, est )

hi thanks for tuning in, SUNNY here to tell you all a lil bit about westmere’s very own new nd improved favorite loser below. sorry for this summary being all over the place, it’s kinda how my brain works heh which is kinda perfect bc byron will for SURE be all over the place too ( u can rly tell at a certain point i was like ok i give up + i’m posting mf ). let me know if u have any questions about ‘em and most importantly, lmk if you would like to plot a lil connect or sumn 😙

@westmerestarters

FAMBAM + BACKGROUND

born 14 years after the elder conelly ( wanted brother connect !!! ) entered this word to two parents who didn’t seem to read the job description, it was clear that byron wasn’t planned. and down the line, he’d soon realize through the tumultuous household he was brought up in - perhaps never even wanted.

byron’s parents had one constant - and that was fighting. over anything, all the time. there just wasn’t any love between the two and they stayed together for whatever meaningless reasons until byron hit middle school. ( there might’ve been a super short lull in toxicity once byron was born, but it had to be short as his first memories are nothing shy of toxic. ) it was a messy separation ( they never paid the full legal fees for a full divorce ) - his father moving to the coast of nj & his mother moving to a smaller apartment nearby her own mother ( which, due to the negative relationship among his mother + grandmother, also called for more tension ). he’d often be dropped off @ his grandmother’s house for baby-sitting or when he was ‘ becoming too much to handle. ’ eventually his grandmother moved into his cousin’s house ( MONROE ) and although grateful he made a practically new brother, similar tendencies of feeling unwanted occurred when byron noticed their grandmother praising and coddling and favoriting monroe just a bit more.

( his mother was a struggling addict ( and had been her whole life ), but the loneliness, newfound pressures and whatever excuse she was able to name caused her drinking to spiral worse than byron remembered ( even at his young age ) before. )

( his father was rarely in his life, but when he was, he was THE coolest. always played good cop in any situation regarding his mother, despite choosing not to have an active role in byron’s life. byron looked up to him like no other. when he WAS around, he taught byron how to surf, skateboard, play sports, they’d play video games, they’d eat junk food - honestly anything that byron wanted to do. his dad was an adrenaline junkie and created the stepping stones for byron to be one too. he was a marine biologist & pretty successful at that. passionate, intelligent, but seemingly finding his newfound life a lot better than his previous - which is why he never wanted byron to stay too long, the boy reminded him of her, of the past. )

( his older brother moved out of the house when byron was just a lil kid, they’re not very close and don’t have much in common ... or so it seems. he lives in nyc and they only talk here and there on holidays. he was never a huge part of his life, but it does bum him out to think what could’ve been / could be. )

TO GET THE GIST

due to never receiving the attention he craved from his family members, he made up for it tenfold in school. he was always talking to everyone, loud, boisterous, gregarious, life of the party; he wanted people to like him and they did. he become a total people pleaser, molding himself to make sure everyone was content and stayed around. impressionable, adaptable. he felt less this way towards adults and had a bit of a rebellious phase, hanging with the wrong crowd & getting into things he probably wouldn’t do otherwise. old habits die hard and he still tries his best to make everyone crack a smile, to remember him - since he believes he won’t be remembered for much else.

after he just barely skated by in high school ( his grades were never as good as his cousin’s and never lived up to his father’s expectations ), byron felt a bit lost. a lot of people had plans, were heading off to college - but already under the assumption he couldn’t reach any expectation in that realm ( a lil self fulfilling prophecy am i right pals ), he stayed in town - caring for his mother who hardly had anything together, his uncle who got sick very quickly & passed, spending time with his grandmother, while he himself fell into a rut. most of his days meant he drove out towards his dad’s place ( dad hardly there now, out and about with his new family ), surfing, smoking, and grabbing some cash doing odd jobs any way he could. he lost any purpose he once had ( but yall would never know it bc who wants to be in someone’s life who’s a buzzkill ? all smiles, baby, all smiles. )

IN WESTMERE

when his cousin offered the opportunity to travel cross-country in his van, byron had nothing to lose. always adventurous in spirit, he immediately said yes - deciding to ignore that ‘obligation,’ that feeling to make sure they were a-ok that he felt towards his parents. he needed an out and this was it.

after landing in the small connecticut town for the night, the two fell for it - especially since when they got there along the water, it was a summer night + everything landed into place. they decided to stay there a bit longer ... and that eventually turned into more than a year. still antsy to keep traveling and to move around, byron has been ready to head out ... but stays for a few reasons - and them all being people ( bc lbh the surf is not even on point here ok )

his current job is a deckhand ( on a bunch of boats, ppl prob hired him as word of mouth got around that he knew what he was doing ). prob got that knowledge from being by his dad’s on the water when younger ( he’s ... obsessed with the water ) ! and also he’s just a quick learner ok ( ps: if your charrie has a boat pls let’s make somethin happen )

TO KNOW [ headcanons + more ]

his fav karaoke song is sweet caroline bc he knows everyone will be able to sing nd party along. he does it for the ppl, ppl.

he never saw too many baby / kid pics of himself which was kind of a bummer bc he really only remembers negative times - somehow they overpowered ( i bet lil byron was cute as fuck too fml )

he’s super into drugs, hallucinogenics, honestly you name it. it started off w/ him being impressionable, then bored, and now he just enjoys it. despite his mother’s addiction running through his blood, he still continues to do his thang.

longboards around town so watch your toes

uses 🤙🤙 all the time and not ironically

has an existential crisis on the daily about purpose but keeps that to himself most times

WANTED CONNECTIONS

someone pls give me a sugar mama idc how we plot it out they don’t have to hook up they can idk idc i just want someone giving him money or expensive things it can be so much fun ok ,, pool boy ? idk sign me up

pls if your muse has a boat, let him be the deckhand ok it will also be so fun and potentially angsty if he fucks something up

a fling 100% - even multiple ? idc listen he is currently sharing a tiny VAN with his COUSIN he needs a place - like an actual bed - to crash on at night

can he save someone who was potentially drowning pls??? he used to be a lifeguard, it can be a cool/fun thread to write out

omg off of that can he teach someone how to swim

look if anyone is into marine bio, can they somehow know byron’s father ?? i feel like that could make room for a cool plot

also i have an older brother connect on the w/c’s page lmk lmk

give me a good influence that will somehow have him open up + tell him that it’s weird to be so sunshiny all the time. maybe someone who witnesses him at his worst + stays, ya know ??

a bad influence plot where y/c takes this impressionable young lad and puts him through the ringer tbh ( srrsly he’d do a lot for ppl, so ask him to do something illegal for them it’ll be fun )

party pals, smoking pals, on the water 24/7 pals,

co-worker, other ppl that work on the water ( fishermen?? more deckhands?? captains??)

gimmie someone he accidentally bumped into while longboarding ( he’s a large human it might’ve done damage ok )

i want and need enemies ok i know he’s chill as fuck and wants everyone to like him but there’s always a way to find enemies >:o. anything angsty for REAL.

unrequited thing? where he led someone on?? i’m sure he does this constantly

don’t ruin the friendship thing omg plsssss always so fun

look i’m open for it ALL. every plot u have in mind so lay it on me

#westmereintro #TW ADDICTION #nd ... i think that's it

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cogneartive · 5 years ago

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The Great Peter Infodump of March 2020

yo @brackets-and-woolly-hats @mijaco-geo and @mike-nesmith-for-mayor I have recently been informed that yall would really like me to infodump about Peter and I want to thank yall because I think if I held it in any longer I would explode

Also thanks to the coolcherrycream articles and various interviews that I learnt all these from in the 5-ish months I’ve been thinking about the monkees for

But before I start going hnngggg Peter I would like to warn you that despite my tone this is going to contain some heavy stuff. We’re talking brief mentions of blood, and suicide and death so be careful about that

This is gonna get hella long so *cracks knuckles* let’s begin

Childhood

let’s start from the very beginning: a very good place to start

Friday, 13th February one bb was born and he would always say that Friday the 13th was a lucky day for years onwards

He was born with a lot of diversity in his parentage

He’s Irish and German-Jewish on his mother’s side and Norwegian on his dad’s side

Speaking of Jewishness (is that a word???) I rememeber an article saying that he used to randomly say Hebrew words in interviews and I think he taught Mike how to say something too?? I dont know

Peter was a very friendly boy even when he was just a toddler cus he would drag any new friend he had home

Anyway, he was born in Washington DC

Once on Christmas he went missing and his mum and grams panicked and looked all over the house for him

Turns out he was just waiting at lampost in the snow because he wanted to make sure that Santa would bring him a present

Speaking of Grams, when he was 3 (i think im doing this from memory) he was at a post office with his mother when she came in.

He got uber excited and shouted “THAT’S MY GRAMS. HER NAME IS CAIT!”

And so everyone turned to look at her and he squealed

He would also often ride on the top part double deck buses and whenever the bus slowed down, he would wave to nearby people and say “HI MY NAME’S PETER WHAT’S YOUR?” to which those people who wave back and sometimes answer him. I mean, wouldn’t you?

Also he started to play with pianos when he was 3 and also he liked dancing so that’s cute

One of his first memories was of being at the hospital where his brother Nick (who they called Nicky and that’s what I’m going to call him) was born

Soon after Nicky was born they moved to Germany Yeet. He was 4 and the time and Nicky was like 18 months or smth

Germany

Right so I dont know why people dont talk about this part of his childhood because like,,,it’s interesting??

In Germany they had two maids

They had to put sugar in every food so that Peter and Nicky would actually eat the strange German food

He became very fluent in German and would help his mother with translations

He was also fluent in French for some reason

Someone made a statue of his 4 year old head and it became a famous minor art piece that featured in calendars

It probably now sits in his house because I saw in in the background of the short documentary that his son, Ivan Ivanoli made about him which you sould check btw

Anyway, when Peter was 5 he made his first official best friend Ule who was two years older than him

Once when he was playing hide and seek with Nicky he ran at full force at a closed glass door that he thought was open, shattering it, and getting a shard into his arm. Reasonably he screamed

Apparently, he was hurt a major artery and would have bled to death if not for someone being in the house to call a doctor

Once he was out and about wandering around, as you would do if you were Peter when he was stopped by some official looking guy from going back into his own house.

It’s important to note that Peter looked very much like a German boy and would ONLY talk in German outside. God knows why he did this. Reasonably, the dude thought he was lying and he had to call for his mum

Anyway, in Germany school starts when you’re five but his birthday was in the middle of the school year so his parents sent him in early which set him up for some outcasted child syndrome later

And then the moved back to America yeet

AMERICA (LAND OF CAPITALISM)

So he moved back into America but it didn’t stop there. No. They had to move around like a 100 different times and as someone who went to a total of 4 different schools (so far oh no) that sets you up with outcasted child syndrome. What also sets you up with outcasted child syndrome is if you’re an undiagnosed neurodivergent which Peter seemed to think he was when he was in his 50s (either ADHD or autism) so uhh keep that in mind

So he was in school and as mentioned earlier he was a year younger than his peers so that’s fun

He was very very clever. Often he would finish his work first and his (4th grade) teacher would make do some reading or creative writing. She encouraged him to do creative writing because she saw some talent in there

Not only was he acadmically gifted, but he was also musically gifted. Playing not only the piano (which he got lessons for) but also the guitar, the banjo, the bass, and the french horn which he got an award for when he was in highschool playing in a band made out of college students for some reason

Speaking of awards, he was once given an award for maths

This giftedness would later set him up for Gifted Child Burnout he had in college

Also he changed schools like a total of 13 times so that’s fun

He went to a private school but apparentl, according to his parents, he hated it (but he remembered liking it???)

Also, he made a lot of jokes in class

Remember Nicky? Yeah, Nicky would often write songs for him to sing and stuff (Nicky would later write songs for Peter’s solo album and a bunch of other stuff what a great brother we stan)

The family had some kind of barn once where he would do puppet shows his siblings

Anyway, school life was all fine and dandy until 5th grade hit and he changed schools and everyone lost interest in him because he was one year younger

Also his dad was apparently very disconnected with him. Needless to say, Peter felt like his father didn’t like him

Once when he was 9, he told his father that he noticed that when the clouds were around at night, it would be warmer during the day to which his father shouted at him saying that “he has no proof of that” and that he shouldn’t say anything without proof

This of course led him to feel like no one wanted to listen to what he wanted to say

poor baby

I think his father would have been the reason why Peter would later say in an interview that he hated “loud abusiveness” the most

He would also later say that a combination of his dad and feeling like he was weird and different would lead him to his drinking problem

So umm we dont stan his dad ok

Once when he was 13 he picked up a loaded shotgun and put it against his head. But he decided that he didn’t want to do it at the last second.

Overall, life from 5th grade till highschool was terrible for him

He didn’t have any friends in his school

So when he moved to a new school in Conneticut where he was surrounded with people of the same age, he was really happy all the way until college where he flunked out twice

Hippie Time (Honestly this part is just me talking about him and Stephen Stills because Steter Stirk changed me)

And so Peter became a hippie in Greenwich Village

In the Village, he became a sort of entertainer. Not just singing and playing, he was also a comedian.

And then he kept hearing about this dude who looked like him from other people.

This dude turned out to be Stephen who was also hearing the same kind of talk for about the same amount of time

Pete and Stephen VIBED im not kidding they started to play with each other and also Stephen’s room mate who was also there

Also it turns out that they liked to talk about the same things so that’s neat

Peter went to Venuzuela apparently and when he came back the Monkee thing happened yeet

Once when Stephen was waiting to move into his new house Peter was all like “hey dude live with me”

For a while they also lived in the same house when he was Monkee and if that doesn’t fuel any ship fics I dont know what will

Im serious the ship is here and its real I saw fics and fanart

Dont ask about Stirk

They played with the colour tv and would “pick apart each other’s brains” umm

Also Peter’s favourite band was buffalo springfield and we stan a friend who would say your band was their favourite band

And I think this is where my knowledge starts to fade because I haven’t really heard any cool facts from here on afterwards

Last Final Cool Facts

He was a teacher for quite a while and taught about Maths, basketball (despite not liking any sport except swimming) and Easter Philosophy,,,yes easter philosphy the man was into that kinda stuff

Also he was a big reader. Always having a smoll book in his pocket that he would read while on set with the Monkees. But he was particularly a non fic kinda guy

He would write poetry on the back of scripts

In the 2000s he said that his sister thought he might have ADD

Also autism but when asked about it he’d be all P E R H A P S

which is very unhelpful Peter pls give us a straight answer

I mean he cant give us straight answers because he was the gayest monkee (he fricked a dude once but he didn’t like it)

Hey look I ended on a gay note yeet. Thanks for reading this mess

#the monkees #peter tork #blood tw #death ment tw #suicide tw #i think that's all the tws #im finally free of this knowlege #i feel so good #just wait till i come back with a truck of knowledge in 5 months

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revol-lover · 4 years ago

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dreams don’t end at “30″

so i just had a little breakthrough and maybe this wont sound like anything to anyone else but i just have to share it

so i’ve talked about this before. about how my friend and i were both planning these personal development like goals for this year that covid got in the way of. and he said something, about how this is his last year in his 20s and he wanted to get some goals accomplished before 30

and i thought about that and realized something.

i have been feeling similarly about a few goals that i’ve been hanging onto for years and years. like i’m going to be honest with you, some people might remember this if you’ve been around here for a long time but probably not. anyway when i was in high school i really wanted to make music, sing, learn an instrument. and i did make some covers that i posted on myspace (showing my age here lol) and youtube but then i kind of gave up on it when

1) became 18 and realized my dream to go to NYC and pursue music when i was 18 wasn’t happening because of a million reasons (it was very much a pipe dream, right? i mean you can’t have that dream and not prepare for it and i didnt. also i was too scared at the time to even move out to my own place if i had the funds to do so because my parents wouldnt have really approved and i was still so under their thumb)

2) broke up with my musician boyfriend. which needed to happen. but he was the only person super passionate about that kind of goal at the time around me (till he ran lol) and he actually is still doing music now so good for him but basically

because of those 2 reasons i just let go of that dream all together as something i thought i wanted to do but was “unrealistic”.

but the thing about turning 30 and feelings like you needed to achieve all these personal/dreamy/goals in your 20s. what is that bullshit? why?

what changes when you cross over to 30? i’ll tell you one thing. media pushes movies, books, films, everything about people chasing their dreams in their 20s and “settling” down in their 30s. where’s my inspiring movie about the 32 year old mom who finally wrote a song and performed it live after being terrified her whole life of doing so?

think about it though

in your 30s you. *might* have a better paying job than you did in your 20s. which means, if you can manage to find time or a way for it, you *might* be able to save a little more money or afford to do something like, buy that guitar and guitar lessons in order to learn to play and write a song and live out your dream in some way, even if its just learning to play so you can play at an open mic. and maybe you’ll like that and you’ll somehow connect with likeminded people and form a band. idk. your dreams dont have to end in your 20s.

you dont have to fall into the trap of your 20s are for your dreams that are so big you feel like the chance of achieving them is getting struck by lightening

and then your 30s are for fancy adult goals like buying a house, and going on a $10k vacation and those things are probably just as hard as the goals you had in your 20s but the world wont make you see it that way. its seen as “selfish” to prioritize and budget for your artistic goals - but not a house. no that’s responsible and what you “should” do. but its ok to prioritize something that’s going to give your soul fulfillment too! we need to believe that! because it’s true. we are not here just to work our jobs and live mundane colorless lives once we aren’t considered “young” anymore (but 30s are still young. not what i’m saying)

you’re always going to be chasing something big and if you let the world control what that thing is you’re always going to be on some rat race.

it’s fine if you achieve your goals in a different order than the world says you were supposed to. i got married young and had a child young, that was how my life played out and i’m happy with that because, yes, finding love and becoming a mother very much were goals of mine.

yes i dropped out of college because i couldn’t afford it and i couldnt find a major that felt worth being in debt for. and also, because hey guess what? contrary to what a lot of people will try to lead you to believe, college is not for everyone. and college does not = success. college drop out does not = failure. it’s just an option of something you could do with your life. AND if you didn’t go to your college in your 20s it doesnt mean you can’t in your 30s. or 50s. hell my husband, who did go to college saw elderly (think, 80s!) people going to his college as students! college isn’t just for 18 year olds fresh out of high school.

My 27th birthday is in 2 weeks and no, i have not yet to worked up the courage to write an original song from words to music, or have the courage to get on a stage and sing anything, or talk to a stranger, or publish any of my writing or art, goals i’ve had whirling around in my brain since I was 18, but, it’s going to happen. maybe this year. maybe when i’m 35, but it’s going to happen. a number is not going to be the thing holding me back.

that whole mentality of “my youth is slipping away i need to achieve all these dreams before midnight the day of my 30th birthday” is so stupid and flawed and we all deserve to see ourselves, and our individual potential as more than that.

last part of this rant - one of the reason i even became so passionate about reignighting some of my dusty, old goals, that it turned out, i still cared about, is because i had a moment where i was like

ok i am a mom. i am someones mom. how will my daughter see me, as a person, not just her mom?

kevin and i always talk about how between the two of us we’ve both had a lot of quintessential young adult experiences that we look forward to sharing with her. like, quitting jobs, getting in car accidents, that one time i unknowingly participated in an illegal bonfire and ran from the cops then lied straight to their faces and somehow got away with it (literally my ONE act of teen rebellion), changing college majors like 3 years in (kevin), failed classes, tried cigarettes, etc like i’m ready, and hope that one day she will feel comfortable talking to us about things because we’ve been through things and have a lot of input and two different perspectives to offer

but further than that, i realized that i want her to know that her mom is a person too. i want her to know that mom is also passionate about writing, and music, and somehow tackled some of her goals in regards to that so that SHE can feel that SHE, too can do those things. and i know that, that is in part how it works

because,

my dad IS an artist. my dad IS a musician. yall. my dad is SO talented. my dad is brilliant. besides his artistic abilities which include, drawing literal realistic as fuck portraits, sculpting, painting, playing guitar, bass, piano, mandolin, he also knows music composition, etc etc etc beyond all of that, he also taught himself fucking PLUMBING and ELECTRICIAN SHIT to fix things in our house growing up. like he bought a book. and taught himself. my dad. i grew up thinking that was normal but i realized not everyones dad can just tear down the bathroom and rebuild it from scratch down to the plumbing without being a licensed professional.

but anyway the point is - as talented as my dad is, he doesnt really pursue his artistic dreams much. and its sad. i’m glad that i’ve seen some of the work he did when he was younger. i’m glad that if i bring it up, he’ll show me something he can do. but he doesnt pursue it anymore really. my dad works an exhausting physical labor job but even he, as a 50something year old has fallen into that trap of like, i dont have time to draw, but he will scroll his phone and read articles for hours and i’m not shaming him. i’m just saying we all have this problem in the modern era of technology and social media and what not (hell i am writing a post on tumblr instead of my book right now).

but if timing was different and my dad grew up in a different time, where lets say something distracted him from doing the little bit of art and music that he did when i was a kid that i was able to witness, if i hadnt seen that. i wouldnt know that.. in a way.. that’s in me. i mean, he’s my dad. if my dad could pick up a craft and work at it to be good at it, why can’t i? there are so many musicians and (kind unrelated but not rly - i think being “self made” is an art) business owners in my family. there’s either some common thread in our genetics ORRRRRRRRRR just growing up around people working at and succeeding at those kinds of goals shows you that it CAN be done so you’re more likely to believe in your abilities

and i want that for my daughter. because even as an almost 3 year old i can see that she has a gift for music, and reading. and even if i’m wrong about that and she grows up wanting to do some other thing as a job or hobby, i want her to know, by seeing her mom do it, that she can achieve anything she puts her heart to. you don’t have to box yourself in because of your age or your sex or the fact that you’re a parent.

and your dream doesnt have to become your career. it can be a hobby and still be fulfilling. like yes, 18 year old me dreamed about some life in nyc singing in clubs or bars or whatever and being ~famous (lol) and that did not happen, but i can still get out there and play open mic downtown and get that love of music, and desire to face my fear of performing out of my system. maybe i’ll love it. maybe i’ll hate it. but i’ll have done it. and that’s the ultimate goal.

sorry i went off but i had to get that out of my system and i’m very passionate about

#personal

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enniewritesathing · 6 years ago

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57 Facts

I was tagged by the lovely @pink-chevalier, thank you ❤❤

Let’s see if I got 57 facts in me, lol.

My car, Sheila, is a stick shift. I’ve been dirving stick since I was 19. My dad taught me and I got it down within a day. The hardest part is stopping/going on a hill.

My favorite color is blue, but I love the darker shades of blue. They speak to me. (And they also taste good no matter what it is).

I’m 30, but I look half my age. At least according to everybody. It’s a curse. And don’t give me that, “but that’s good~”.

I won a Xbox One X from Taco Bell last year. I’m just as surprised as you are. I’m gonna try and see if I can win the white one this year, lol.

My Steam queue and game queue in general? It’s outrageous.

I served in the military (Air Force). I fixed radio equipment and antennas.

For almost 3 years because I have really bad shins.

I lived in Germany when I was 2months - 4 years old. I don’t remember any of it, but we have a lot of pictures.

I got kicked out of a major university marching band because I was frustrated with a lot of things and I may have made a F-bomb laced post. (And I talked to the higher ups about stuff but they didn’t listen/did nothing about it). Someone snitched on me; still don’t know who did it. This was back when FB was college-only.

I played the clarinet from 6th grade up until that point. Should have taken up saxophone if I’m gonna be honest.

And then like a semester later, I flunked out.

When I make OCs, I put a lot of thought into them.

I had a tough love approach to making them, but I'm way gentler now. Mostly.

I tend to make them in pairs? Or eventually they end up being together, lol. I think one pair is married?? But they all tend to have old married couple traits, I think. They *clearly* love each other.

I would make them in TS4, but I forgot what they look like... 😟

I'm 5'0.

I powerlift! Which is *very* different from Olympic Weightlifting! And bodybuilding is completely unrelated to both!

I don't look the part though. Powerlifting brings all sorts of body types.

I've been competing in the 84kg weight class for 3 years, and counting.

I've won 1 1st place, and 3 2nd place medals.

My total right now is about 610lbs for all three lifts. I've got a ways to go to start competing on regionals/nationals.

I have a meet on Saturday and I'm super nervous about it, lol.

I'm single, not sure how to mingle, and at this point... kinda don't want to?

Never really been in a relationship; some times I'm alright with this other times I'm cursing the universe.

I'm demisexual, or, somewhere on the ace spectrum. Demi fits me the most currently. (What's up my fellow aces 🖐)

I'm not aro tho. Give me that romantic shit!!!

Didn't figure this out until I was a whole ass 25 years old, and I found out via here and my hella good friend! And it's been a goddamn ride.

Now that I think about it, Brian is (most likely, but he may be grey-A) demi. I think. Probably.

I've known my good friend for 20 years? Almost 20 years! They have a tumblr too and of course we're mutuals and I love them to bits :>

I'm pretty shy.

I *do* have a type. Well, types, but I do love characters that are strong as hell, but also really sweet??? Like they can fuck you up, but also loves baby cats. A "bad boy" but a sweet boy.

Physically?? Oof. I have a tag on my main that's like my jam, aesthetic wise. They're so handsome. But my fav body type is actually the "lumberjack' build. I like a little beef ~_~

I started making poses because a lot of poses didn't fit my boys/very slim pickings and hardly nothing spicy wise, and I could never find anything super specific that I wanted.

I pretty much learned on my own through a LOT of practice with the Pose Helper. There was like one tutorial using the pose helper, and that was it. Lots of trial and error. If you really want to go through it, go through my ts4 pose wip tag. Like alllll the way back. It was a rocky start.

I do the NSFW/spicy poses in cycles. Basically, when the mood strikes me. I'm not sure what theme I'm gonna go with for the next one though. I've been wanting to do some stripper poses, but also light bondage or something. Hmm...🤔

I do enjoy making them, but 😳

My favorite pose set is probably Bare Knuckle because, at the time, the most complex thing I made and I'm super proud of it. The idea of fighting a literal demon just... came up lol. I am considering doing another Muay Thai centered pose set, but pic refs are hard to come by. The one I used for BK deactivated :(

I use a lot of refs. It's very okay to use refs! Sometimes I have to adjust them to accommodate male frames.

I have a weighted blanket and it's fantastic and if you're able to get one, I SUPER recommend it.

I was born 2 weeks late. Yeah, lol. Sorry, mom.

I have an older half brother. He's out there doing... stuff.

I have 4 nephews. That I know of.

Up until last year, I was the only granddaughter of my grandma. Now I'm the oldest!

I am older than my uncle by 4/5 years. (He was a late/surprise baby lol)

I have a bad habit of making faces. I am *very* expressive. Basically, I'm a walking reaction gif, lol. And I have gotten in trouble when I was younger.

I know how to read maps. Like actual road maps, and I can navigate by sight too. When I was younger, my dad gave me the role on long trips to help me read and know geography. I don't get lost.

I'm pretty hungry right now...

I used to play DDR. Like, an absurd amount of it, allll the way back when Max2/Extreme came out. Now? I play when I can.

Not as good as I used to be, stamina wise, but I still get ridiculously high grades/marksbn on songs. The highest difficulty rating I was at when I peaked was 16s. That's out of a 20 scale. Now? I'm lucky to clear a 13/14. There's a HUGE skill difference.

I have trouble verbalizing things in general. When I'm writing/typing, I'm fine. But speaking?? Forget it.

I am a naturally quiet person, which tends to unnerve a lot of people? I just don't have much to say on a lot of things.

People tell me some wild shit, but uh, I forget because I have a shitty memory and attention span.

Never been in a fight, but I did punch this bully that was messing with me back in kindergarten right in the stomach. Just dropped him. My dad taught me :>

I've been on Tumblr for a LONG ass time... since 2010. I've seen shit. This blog is I think 6 years old? But only 3ish years since it became a simblr, hence the name. It was for my writings at first but ~nobody came~.

I really do love making poses, yall. Even on days where I'm feeling crummy, I try and do one pose. Don't matter what it is.

Every time I get a message saying that my posts/cc brightens someone's day, it makes my whole damn week. Thank you for nice words. I still have an anon message that was sent months ago, saying they really love John and Brian's relationship with each other, and depicting what love is. Thank you, anon 😭😭😭

I love and appreciate every one of ya'll. Thank you for following me and sticking around with this small simblr. :)

57 is a LOT, but I somehow did it. If you wanna do it, considered yourself tagged. If not, that's cool, and if you read all of the facts... congrats, lol.

#a text post #non sims #long post #tag meme

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drumie · 6 years ago

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Salutatory Speech.

So as Salutatorian, I was told I would have to write a speech focused on the history... I find that a bit challenging, but here it goes.

A very long time ago, the universe did not exist. There was infinite mass and density, and said universe couldn’t take it, so there was a boom. A big bang of sorts…

Then in the late 90’s and early 2000’s we were born. One of us, in fact, was born on this very day. I want to wish Alicia Hernandez a happy birthday. (sing alicia happy birthday)

So we were born. Our worries were few, but substantial. Two of my personal struggles included catching the next spongebob episode and drinking chocolate milk too fast.

We started pre-school. My only memory from there is getting sick on one too many pigs in a blanket. We met some of our first friends here. Simple times.

2004 - Facebook was created.

2005 - Youtube was created.

Then we started Elementary school. I was at east ridge. Our worries here included getting the last breakfast pizza that was left over because “adam wasn’t here and he would want me to have it.” They included obsessively cramming for spelling tests, memorizing multiplication facts, and taking our first TAKS test. TAKS test. Feel old yet?

2006 - Twitter was created

We moved onto 4th grade at SIS… The turf wars began. And for the folks that don’t know, there were two different elementary schools that brought up Kindergarten through 3rd grade. And then these two schools would feed into SIS, Sweetwater Intermediate School. This was our world now. Where we came from defined a person… were you from east ridge, or were you from south east? And I’m ending the beef now, East Ridge was the better of the two. Only kidding! It didn’t matter. There were good things from both schools. I’m just glad that hating and judging people from where they’re from is only something 4th and 5th graders do.

I digress. We’d rack up AR Points ca ching! We’d party like the year we were born… Flamingo fling. Not many worries, but we were still in a hurry, learning about history and Martin Luther King. And those days remained romanticized because again, our biggest concerns only included passing a TAKS test and… our first puberty class.

2010 - Instagram was created

Speaking of puberty, here came middle school. Oh my God. Puberty was like Everyone telling you to look both ways before crossing the street to watch for cars and then a falcon swoops down from the sky and attacks you. Folks I thought that was it for us. As soon as coach Huskey said “Let’s go hit that creek” I recall thinking to myself “yeah I’m going to die in the next few hours.” I found my passion: Band. I also found what I thought was my passion: Football. I remember one day Kiante hit me and I was like “I don’t think I like this very much.” Life got real. Technology took off. We all got phones, social media, iPads. Remember how cool we thought we looked with all of our decent selfies camwow retro logo in the bottom left? Instagram, Snapchat, facebook, tumblr (lowkey though), Jokebox, iFunny, Youtube, and for the first time, We stopped going to older people for help and we got online and googled it. We were the pioneer generation that was raised by technology. Surrounded by information in the times of our lives when we needed it the most. We began to comprehend the different weights of life. As a middle schooler I pulled a few all-nighters to finish projects and homework… I may or may not have procrastinated on. Our priority list was fine tuned. School and extracurricular were up there now. But memes, relationships, and social media were among them as well.

2012 - Vine was created

Then came High School. lots of smells in high school have you noticed that? The big room smells like shredded tires and hard work and dedication with a hint of Trent tears scattered here and there. You could always tell when bunsen burners were on because the science hall always smelled unpleasant. And Mrs. Melendez’s room when she would burn those Orange Buttercream Scenses that smell like fruity pebbles oh my god.

Smells like the big room, bunsen burners, teen spirit, and those scense’s are the things I think I’ll remember the most.

I learned a few important things in my time in High school that I’d like to share with you.

Freshman year I learned that if you’re unhappy in your situation, you have the ability to change it. Whether it be relationships, extracurricular, or any aspect of life, you can change it. I also learned that social media can be a cruel blackhole, that can distort views, reputations, and relationships. Even more so today. Tread carefully.

Sophomore year, I learned the true value of hard work thanks to Mrs. Judith Brentz. She taught us many valuable lessons, the most important being “how to use our heads for something more than keeping your ears apart.” I also got my first B… Thanks Mrs. Mac. I also got my second B… Thanks Mrs. Brentz. I also learned how to rid my life of toxic people, and for the first time I began to see the world for what it really was. All the variables, and the factors that can play into what, when, why, and how we think the things we think.

Junior year was the toughest for me. Between band, Round 2 of Brentz for chem 2, Coach Mayes, Work, and family…. It taught me that you can’t do everything you want to, and at the same time get enough sleep. I also learned that it’s healthy to rock the boat every now and then. You’ll either get humbled, humble someone else, or if conditions are just right, a healthy mix of the two.

I also learned probably the most important lesson I’ve learned thus far. This applies to everyone listening, Teachers, families, current students, etc. If you don’t get anything about my longwinded speech, please hear this.

My junior year, I stopped worrying about grades, and I started doing the best I could to learn and retain everything that was being taught to me. Numbers are just Numbers. But what we should understand is that we have the world’s most powerful computer between our ears, and once we start using it, we become unstoppable. There are people that will disagree with what I’m about to say, but stop trying ace tests. Stop trying to do the bare minimum to get by. Learn and retain the information, and those good grades will come. I guarantee it. And class of 2018, it’s not too late to apply to your lives. Whether you’re going to college or not, this is a fundamental principle that can be applied across the board, and I encourage you to do so.

Alright back to jokes.

My senior year I learned lots. Like how you can overcook a TV Dinner and still get food poisoning, ruining your chance for perfect attendance that year. Once I started seeing colleges I started learning how a world that I thought was so big is about a whole lot bigger. I learned that if you fall asleep exactly 47 minutes before the first bell, you’ll wake up and be in a sour mood the entire day. I learned that once people figure out that you’re doing a speech at graduation, everyone wants a shout out. I also learned that you can market shoutouts and get a headstart on paying tuition by selling them for a dollar a piece. I also learned that I should've thought of that sooner and not just the night before I gave the speech. Nobody bought shoutouts. (this was what was originally written, but nick gomez bought a shoutout lol)

But our priority list is strict now. When we have to be where and with who? Some of us are paying bills, we have to worry about finances, college tuition, student loans, our next meal, car payments, gas money, textbooks, toothpaste, medical, dental, water, electrical, internet, phone bills. Oh my God I thought I wanted to be an adult but this isn’t what I meant. Of course, those are all things we should be concerned about.

I for one have my priorities just a little bit different

My biggest worries are still catching the latest episode of spongebob and drinking chocolate milk at the right speed.

So welcome. I hope you enjoy tonight's ceremonies. I’m going to wrap this up with a few thank yous, and we’ll get on with it.

Thank you God, for the many blessings you’ve laid upon my life as well as the blessings you’ve given my friends and family. I know I tick you off sometimes, so, I just ask that you’ll bear with me. I’m still learning

Thank you to my dad. You’ve taught me a lot. The most memorable being the wisdom you passed on from my grandmother in heaven… To never take life too seriously.

Thanks momma. You make me laugh like no one else can. And you get me the way no one else can. You can bet everything you say I’m gonna steal and make it my own. I love you.

Marlee, you’re the only one that gets me emotional anymore. I’m so proud of you. I once described you to a friend as a little packet of sunshine that grew arms, legs, and a face, and now you just walk around spreading happiness and joy. I’m glad you made your own path and didn’t follow in my footsteps. I know you’ll continue to make me proud with everything that you do.

Band - Thank you for giving me a place I belong. I’m odd, and yall were okay with it. Without you, I wouldn’t be standing up here.

Directors - Thanks for making me feel at home. I still cant wait to call yall by yall’s first names here in about an hour.

Teachers and Administrators - Thank you for bearing with me. I know I was a thorn in yall’s side from time to time with scandalous assignments and requests. And Mrs. Reyes and Mrs. Little… I made it.

(With the exception of what’s bolded, the other shoutouts made were ad-libbed and did not have a concrete order. I recall thanking other teachers, friends, and family, and shouting out nick gomez, lauren rodriguez, and trini and bell.)

And last but not least, I’d like to thank Jeff Stein and Richard Ferguson for keeping me on their staff after numerous hiccups on 96.7 FM, 1240 AM, KXOX. Good times, great country. For the job opportunity you’ve given me, you helped ease the financial stress that comes from being a poor high schooler, and a soon to be college student. I cant thank you enough.

And in closing. Heed this warning, everyone listening.

We are strong.

We are persistent.

We are mustangs.

We will go on.

We will succeed.

We will prosper.

We are coming.

We are graduating

We are the Class of 2018.

Thank you, and God Bless.

“Salutations” //Trent(on) Hicks. May 25, 2018

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theboykingofhell · 8 years ago

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can you tell me abt the journey you took to get where you are now in your acting? c:

sure bby!!!!

LOL THIS IS LIKE NOVEL LENGTH LEMME READ MORE THAT SHIT FOR YA

so omg like almost all of my passions i got into in elementary school (like i started writing in 3rd grade, i started rly getting into psychology at the end of 6th) so acting was originally like that… the way my brain works, it’s just natural for me to pursue my passions because i literally can’t conceptualize things i’m not interested in BUT i never considered it like a dream of mine to act professionally. it also never rly came to mind, it was just like… hi yeah i’m a writer and i liked to act!!

so i started rly young in school shows in lil small parts. i was never the lead in something lol never even got close but shit was fun to get involved in. this continued in high school, where i finally started taking some of the drama classes there.

here’s the thing tho… i sucked lol. HERE’S THE OTHER THING THO… it was rly RLY obvious to my teacher that i had a shitload of potential. i grew up HIDEOUSLY shy and withdrawn (80% of this is my dad’s fault lool) so oh man that stage fright was FUUUUUUUUN to try and work through. but my teacher there would confirm what i’d always thought - that i did have a talent, that this was something i was good at, i just had to learn to access what was in me.

i moved on to college then. my first college was a private school and i was technically a liberal arts major because i didnt know how to (and was also too lazy to) take the first steps as to what i rly wanted, but the original plan was acting/creative writing double major… (i eventually changed this to acting and psychology because FUCK english majors)… i didnt rly do much in that first school tho! in fact, i had to drop out because i had a psychotic break lmfao it was a rly RLY low point in my life and i was forced to take a mental leave and i was institutionalized and everything

that’s relavant because… when the leave was over, i was made to go to school again, but i didn’t think i could handle my first school. i hated my first school.. so i went to the community college near me and it CHANGED MY LIFE. the school is actually considered one of the best acting programs you can get around my area if i’m remember right, and even if that’s not still accurate, in my time there, we went to this annual theatre school we go to… they were giving out 20 awards… we, as the only community college there among ONLY private acting schools got FOURTEEN OF THEM BITCHHhhh. the teachers there were brilliant, SO passionate, SO driven, but also SO experienced because they were all professionals who were still actively working in the field!!! they taught us the basics of networking, the discipline and, I LEARNED STAGE COMBAT MY MOST FAVORITE THING but most importantly, how to be safe and open and vulnerable on stage.

two of my favorite moments in learning this was something called the ‘personal monologue’ and something called ‘shakespeare in the dark’.. since this post is getting long enough, if yall wanna know about these, i can talk about that in another post but… they taught me how to be intimate with the audience. and it taught me about the catharsis in acting. shakespeare in the dark in particular was the first time i cried on stage, and even now crying on stage is the ONLY way i can do it without having a horrible reaction to it because of my trauma. acting is super super theraputic for me at this point because i get to access and express emotions that i NEVER let myself do irl because it’s SAFE and ughnfdjgs it’s so good

i stayed in that community college for.. a shitload of time lol i ran out of classes to take cuz i was there for so long. eventually i finally summoned the balls to go to my current school!!!

so i transferred there in the fall, went through a semester of it, and there i met one of the best directors i’ve ever seen and came in contact with a BRILLIANT acting technique that. Holy. Shit. again, if you want me to talk about like… acting technique shit i can do that in another post cuz it’s a lot and it’s also a weird convoluted topic that idk if a lot of people know about outside of theatre (especially out of community theatre cuz i never see it applied there as much hhm). if i learned about vulnerability in the first school, my time here taught me about commitment and immersion. in the first school, i learned to be myself and let myself live through the characters emotional journies. in the second school, i learned to TRANSFORM into the character, completely and totally become them, and work naturally within that and.. most importantly.. to do that in a safe manner.

(again if i talk about techniques i’ll talk about the dangers of some of them but there are a LOT of rly psychologically unhealthy ways you can act which. of course. are some of my favorite ways to lol)

i only spent a semester there tho because…! my school has a partnership with this british school called lamda… which was, oh god, SUCH a brilliant school. so i entered in the program and studied abroad there…! so this is why i was in london from january until like LITERALLY LAST WEEK and holy fuck.

what lamda taught me: ummmm… how to party? mostly kidding lol but again, on one hand it was a beautiful reiteration on what we’ve learned and are always learning, like how to network and the different ways to do that (umm partying with actors is beautiful and important), how to express yourself on stage in same ways… but the things i learned were all about rly technical things that we don’t focus on in america… american acting focuses a lot more on realism, drawing on emotions, YOU AND HOW YOU AFFECT THE WORLD… british acting actually does more with physicality and the space around you an how the environment affects YOU and how YOU push back against it. they’re generally pretty similar, either way stuff like the psychology of the character, the physicality, the environment, they’re things you have to work with no matter WHERE you are, but american acting focuses inward looking out and british acting focuses outward looking in and it’s VERY interesting. so going there gave me more tools to work with and more ways to hone what i have difficulty with (like my vocal work is SHIT because i more or less have a speech impediment i gotta finish working through but that’s improved GREATLY)

i didnt mention all the shows i’ve done in the meantime but i’ve done one ACTUAL PROFESSIONAL SHOW before and by that i mean. i’ve done a bunch of things with my school and stuff no problem and that all counts in my acting resume but i’ve actually performed in nyc off-broadway on a STAGE in the LEAD ROLE and i got paid for it. so that’s when i started considering myself a professional actor. since schools USUALLY put you under a contract to not work during the school semesters, the summer is usually the only time i seek out stuff, so… i’ve done pretty much all the auditions i wanted to do this week and i’m just waiting back to see if i’ll be doing more professional things! i’m still a BABY though there’s a lot i don’t know and there’s a lot i haven’t experienced yet and rest in peace my ass because this year is my last year of training until i go to graduate school and i’m not READY FOR THE REAL WORLD WAAAAAAAAAH

uhhh BUT YEAH i hope that was interesting to read omg thank you for asking me bby ilysm!!!

#ACTING TAG #ACTINGGGGGGGGGG.... CLENCHES FIST #ok but note how i never actually went through the decision to become an actor like i s 2 g it just like #accidentally happened #tbh i'm only just realizing now like WAIT OH WHAT AM I DOING I'M AN A C T O R WHAAAAAAAT #Anonymous #ask tag

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bro-study · 8 years ago

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let me tell u about my ib ride

y’all it’s my last year in college and i got some things to say! (its a long read lol)

so in hs i was like they hella advanced kid (took honors classes since freshman year) i was basically ib bound the moment i stepped into hs.

honestly nothing...and i mean nothing prepares you for ib (not even college lol).

ib was like 2 years of punishment endured by sisyphus (rolling a stone up a hill and watching it go back down, yes i read it in ib english lol am i sensing foreshadowing???).

junior year (3rd year of high school) i was like i belong here in ib like i took honors and i know i’m smart. thinking of how well i did in my honors classes i was like this is going to be easy just a little work (lol was i dead wrong).

i remember my first day of FULL ib, it was like i was going to college (at least what i thought was college) honestly, and sitting in my ib english class and being like wow everyone here is at my level or higher.

the first year of ib english, for me ruined my self esteem like hella bad. the first paper i wrote i was told that i “did not get the assignment and on top of that my writing was not at the ib level” and from that day on i constantly felt stupid. like wow do i belong here? why am i here? every assignment i would get back asking me if i did the reading or that i did not understand (btw i did do the reading ms. h!) the nights i spent crying while writing a paper about the themes of a book were honestly my lowest point in life (like honestly i have not felt more useless than that time in my life). But no matter how many tears i shed, no matter how many nights i stayed up i still continued to turn in papers and again get the same results (except like when we had to write that huge paper comparing two books and their themes my teacher was like wow okay i see you lol).

basically writing is not my strong point for ib but good enough to get A’s in business research classes in college lol.

do not get me started on ib history (okay imma talk about it). i kind of blame the teacher for making me hate history (i never took a history class in my high school prior to ib we had to take economics and government). it was in the morning and i just felt like wtf i do not understand anything she would talk and talk but none of made sense, the text is so bland and im lost all the time (we took quizzes every day for the chapter reading, which i didn’t do bc i was of course doing other hw lol and i would get 0/10 or 3/10 and i would walk out of class feeling like the dumbest person in the world). i remember talking to her and she told me that maybe ib history should be dropped (like wtf)

so, basically here i’m bad a quizzes but let me tell you about the great depression and its economic impacts.

the one class i enjoyed was ib bio (i was actually pretty good like i got an A my first term like WHAT!!!) and i liked it because i guess in a way my teacher was kind of an asshole that i did not want to be on her bad side so i tried hella hard.

chemistry, not bio, will have special place in my heart (shout out to my soph. chem teacher who was my ib bio HL teacher and who told me i should have taken ib chem instead of bio lol). btw i can not tell you how periods effect the human body even though we spent a whole month learning about it.

anyways the first year of ib (i also took ib math, ib physics [okay honestly i’m still pissed my school made me take ib physics instead of ib art but that another story], ib japanese (ha! a mess truly) and ib tok) i was destroyed like i was an emotional mess my family noticed it and my friends (those that did not leave me bc i would ditch most to go to the library instead of hanging out with them [shout out to the librarian for letting me stay during lunch to do my hw!]) noticed i was not myself. I had bags under my eyes like i looked worn out like really bad.

and yet after all that i was in full ib my senior year of hs, had i learned nothing?? (lol i didn’t until i took ib physics that is were i draw the line!!)

but thats how all ib kids look right? they complain about having no hours of sleep and have their jumbo cups of coffee? you know the ones that walk in packs talking about how photosynthesis works and the ones that stand outside the library studying in groups waiting to take “that test” in spring.

no, it should not be normalized that kids (YES KIDS, I KNOW HOW MUCH YALL WANNA GROW UP) should have 0 sleep and be expected to do everything colleges want (ok honestly go to a community college save money and transfer over).

i learned something, college (yes even them “hard” majors) is nothing like ib (even my sis who did partial ib said her private college was easier than ib lol). but let me tell you something, ib taught me my limits and taught me when i know its too much, it also taught me (this is the dark side of ib lol) how to bullshit a paper in a way that teachers are impressed.

it kind of desensitized me in a way, like nothing seems as stressful as my years in ib, literally nothing (not even my exam that is in 7 hours that i have yet to study for).

anyways for you ib kids out there: YOUR SLEEP, YOUR HEALTH, YOUR HAPPINESS IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN GETTING A 7 ON YOUR IB TEST. LEARN TO SAY NO, LEARN TO LOVE YOURSELF, AND LEARN THAT YOU WILL SURVIVE EVEN IF YOU GET A 1.

(lol i got a 2 on my ib japanese exam and look at me, i’m doing fine and btw i have not touched or talked japanese since graduating hs Bp)

#hope this isn't to long lol #anyways i have many ib stories to tell the kids #studyblr #self care #either eating them chocolates or doing yoga #whatever u love #drawing or petting your dog you do you boo #ib #long read #i better cram lol #love yall

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jcdamc · 8 years ago

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Creating different support systems: healthier spaces and trusting other families (PART 1) EDITED

A couple days ago, my homegirl/ sista in the struggle Candy made me think about something that has troubled me for years, as an adult and as a man of color with a disability that on one hand, has had the support of an overprotective yet loving family; and on the other hand has had years of experience being independent and self- sufficient. Both scenarios have pros and cons, but the truth is they can both burn you out in different ways. As a proud man of color with a physical disability, I have often struggled when it comes to asking for help, especially when I really need it. With immediate family and chosen family or close friends the same issue comes up: Who, how and when do we ask for support if most of us have been socialized to believe that we only have one main support group (which is usually your blood family)?

Here are a few answers I have from experience, people around me and recent questions I`ve been asked....

My immediate family has done the best they can to raise me right, the best way they knew. I`ve let them know that and am eternally grateful, from my parents to my siblings to my cousins. My father always taught me that as I grew older I had to build an extended support network or family, because you never knew what could happen in life, personally or professionally. Throughout my school and even grad school years I had great associates and some good friends, no doubt. I even had a Hip Hop and BBoy crew that made me feel at home in college. We would help each other out, my boys would give me a ride home if it was late (or I had a lil too much fun lol) and my homegirls and their sense of humor would be the ones pushing me to study, focus and stay up to finish homework at the library many times.

In grad school, I had one true mentor that always kept it real with me and was genuinely supportive and made time for me in his busy schedule as a professor. My big brother figure, STOVE. He was the first brotha to show me how to navigate schools, balance life and how to deal with the workplace in the city in a healthier way. Till this day, STOVE still break it down in a way I can understand, where he doesn`t make me feel guilty for my choices and it`s easy for me to digest his advice. He don`t have to get all technical with me, he is clear, passionate and he listen to me whenever I`m going through something. STOVE and my cousins RodStarz- a community activist, organizer and hip hop artist raised on the north side of Chicago- Nano and Julito, were the big brothers I never had. At different points of my life, I could talk about anything and just chill, kick it with my cousins, no judgment. I guess what I`m trying to say is that depending on your circumstances, a support group could be one person or a group of folks closest to you.

My support system has revolved around my parents, women in my family and women close to me, in my social circles. I get along better with women, have way more female friends (which I have discussed before). In part, it`s natural because I was the only boy in my family. And the only one with a disability. On the other hand, aside from my male cousins, STOVE and my mentee Pharaoh, I have trust issues with most men in my generation. Getting along is one thing, but being friends and opening up is a whole notha ball game y`all.

My folks and siblings moved around a lot before I was born. Once my folks settled in IL, in the Chicago area, I was a year and a half old. My dad wanted me to get consistent professional help since many Chicago hospitals and therapy centers was known to have real good service in the mid 80`s. My family and friends of the family (aka adoptive/ chosen family) where real supportive, influential and caring as I grew during my childhood and even adulthood. My momma was involved in my school activities, back in the day when they used to cram every student that had a disability (or might have been misdiagnosed or labelled) in one special ed classroom. We had basic accommodations but no real community supports. This just was before the ADA was passed. Many of us adults with disabilities today are a product of that, consciously or unconsciously.

My family did their best like I said. I have a mixed cultural background, born in the Midwest, bilingual with South American and Caribbean roots, a city guy fighting to be proud, to stand out in a good way. I have lived in and learned from a few different places like Santiago, Chile during my teenage years, yet I always managed to come back to Chicago where my heart is. I am blessed and thankful to be here, despite having racing thoughts sometimes. I`m much older, continue learning and need and want to find my swag again. It`s up to me. My folks can listen and support what I do. My father hugs me more often, he is wise and my momma always been there through thick n thin, mixing her affection and her tough love all together. They have, despite disagreements and misunderstandings. But I am crying out for help on this new journey, because I also feel like I`m on a big ass island by myself, even when it`s a party around me.

Fast forward... It wasn`t until 2011 that my life and thoughts shifted forever. It was hard to forgive and fully support myself on my own. I was more of a loner just going through the city till then. And I wanna thank everybody that was a part of that change in me. It was a REBIRTH that made see and understand Chicago much better. Yall made me a better and much more mature person, yall made me look in the mirror and accept compliments and my body and feel good about it. Too many folks to name, yall will always be with me in my heart. From 2011 till present day, I`ve built alternative support networks, helped facilitate large events, made great friends, organized and mobilized young people that needed and still seek just as much support and compassion as I do. Most importantly, I improved not only my professional skills, but my relationship building skills and had and still have strong friendships and associates within and outside the disability community. Yall were my angels in some way. Although the last few years have been pretty rough on me, I am finding my way. I will be working on a book of poems and lost poems. My poems are the real me, beyond the boxes, where I can be healthy and not be policed by nobody, where God loves disability, where God love people of color and God love who you all love. I am learning to love myself, yes I am. It`s hard as hell.... Without the support of my brothers and sisters and my cousins in and out the Chi, I wouldn`t BE Here, I wouldn`t be the ME I am TODAY. Y`all will forever be my family too.

It`s really important to find and keep your chosen families and support groups close.... remember that. If not, it might cost you later on... How can I heal when other people close to me are burnt out emotionally or financially? Or some don`t know how or when to have healthy conversations about mental illness and disability? Or when tough love or fussing or cussing each other out is all they have known most of their lives? What happens when you yourself have several things to deal with already, and you have to witness drama or arguments every day? What happens when you are an advocate, and you in the middle of all this, living it today? And YOU need HELP beyond this bullshit ass system?

A lotta things ain`t my business today or ever, only my story and my will to support myself and others in the struggle DOES matter. Passing judgment and blame like a hot potato ain`t neva helped nobody, it sure as hell ain`t helped me. Takes time to change that...

Struggles look different person to person, the issue is when you don`t know somebody, when we don`t TRUST or bond with somebody through their STRUGGLE. Being raised right doesn`t always mean we are all raised the same way. Don`t judge a book by its cover. Read its story.

Honest to God, we need to have a huge peace circle within AND outside the disability community... because not everybody that has a disability or mental illness has had proper support systems or knows how to deal with their reality in a positive way. I`m seeing that every day, and it`s real awkward and uncomfortable. The (original) support system that I have had is barely staying afloat on its own today regarding their health, in part because some people don`t know what to do to change things and due to a huge generational gap in the way some families of color treat each other when it comes to xyz disability, mental illness or any other health conditions. There is a lack of patience and compassion among the same generation at times. It`s a “culture of blame” because 50 years ago talking about your health and disabilities equaled shame or being “sick” all the time. And to some extent, that culture of blame or silence creates unhealthy relationships and psychological issues from head to toe, and many people are not aware of that. It`s done unconsciously in part because of the effects of ableism. Exposure or lack of exposure changes everything, because that`s the difference between knowing how to help and helping without knowing. Love was caring with a tough shell 50 years ago, especially in some families and cultures of color where holding feelings in was real common.

I grew up around elders, with one foot in a ableist society and the other foot in the disability community, and I ain`t realize it till my late 20`s.... Gotta keep helping myself heal. One foot told me it`s something wrong with me, the other one taught me I`m beautiful just the way I am. I realize I cannot help everybody, not even my loved ones in general, if I am not supporting or hugging myself first.

People are people, and nobody, regardless of disability or age or ethnicity, should be feeling like they are a constant burden or isolated, not even myself. As of right now, I can only support and save myself writing every single day, through the power of music and my prayers, for my own sanity. I have enough tryna shut my mind up so I can breathe and listen to God. I refuse to deal with or let other people`s headaches get to me. I am also doing what I can, thankful and humbled. We all need to express support and show up when help is WANTED, not just say it. Takes time.

The problem ain`t people that need help, the issue is people that need healthy supports but don`t WANT THE HELP because they proud, ignorant or just plain scared. It`s hard to ask for help when you might be so used to being the one helping others or the one that is independent to a fault or the giving one...

One of my siblings told me, “You might not have abc right now... but all you got is you. Do you and don`t be worrying about other people” She right. Sometimes, after hearing the same message in different ways and from different people that care, ish finally sink in G.

My writing and my music are my babies. Lately, writing and my jams are more like a punching bag and I`m Ali. I`ve cussed, talked trash, been disappointed in the system and fussed enough. Yes, I like many more, desperately need to find or strengthen other/ different and kinder support groups within our complicated lives. Support networks where we value ourselves as individuals with disabilities and/or mental illnesses, where we become more patient with ourselves, and more importantly where we find healthier outlets. We might not understand everything, but we damn sure need to listen better and TREAT ourselves with much more love.

You`d be surprised how many folks in our community need just one person to talk to, because they want attention, because they are severely depressed, have anxiety, are shut down or because they themselves feel like they live on a island too. Kindness and patience starts with ourselves, and it`s these things that an ableist society makes way too hard for people with disabilities and mental illness to see. Fight self- pity and self- hate or lashing out and realize that you do matter. That`s a start to support yourself and your brothers and sisters, and families. Disability pride is a important part of us individually and as a community. Breathe, be kind, be patient and pray. Too many of us have been conditioned by society to worry, to lynch ourselves, instead of having confidence and building on it. We all gotta get that swag back. It might not look pretty at times, but we gotta have faith AGAIN.

Part 2 of this Support System blog series will introduce the idea of building a non profit organization for and by people with disabilities to maintain more supportive networks, be more self-aware, self- sufficient and empowering in their lives and communities starting this year. Something along the lines of “Disability Arts and Education Collective” inspired by my peoples a while ago... in the works. I could always use more help, no doubt.

Over the past 2 to 3 weeks, I have been doing my part, tryna find my rhythm and I gotta do my own, eat my leftover food, maybe even breakdance again, and smile one smile at a time, even if it`s only on the outside at the moment. Hopefully more people will join me.

Peace and Blessings,

JC Da MC.

#new piece #2017 #community supports #saveyourself #chicity #heart #self advocacy #backgrounds

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