#he really meant it. even as his body aged he never learned why he shouldn't be a jerk.

[rustedleopard]

In reference to this post.

@twothpaste​ The especially rich thing about people who justify their cruelty by saying that “The world is screwed up anyways” and “People who are kind are actually stupid, I’m just seeing the world as it is and acting accordingly” (or whatever excuses they conjure up so they can act like an asshole with no sweat off their conscious) is that it’s self-fulfilling.

Like, yeah, sure there are things in the world that are terrible and unavoidable like natural disasters and disease. There’s no amount of “being nice” that can make cancer stop existing. But people’s actions are controllable and if you’re being a terrible person, then you’re part of the reason why the world is terrible. What you do impacts the universe around you, and there is nothing you can do to isolate your actions from the rest of the world, so if you’re being a dick then: Congrats! You’re feeding into your stupid worldview and making everyone else around you miserable, you Ouroborus motherfucker!

[thelampisaflashlight]

A Nightlight For Your Pride

[Lamb meets the usually confident Swiss in a time of weakness and doubt. Short read, but a wholesome one.] Below the cut.

"You're just... not really my type."

It shouldn't bother him, Swiss knows.

Most of the time he can let that sort of thing slide, cause, shit, if he was everyone's type he'd be up to his ears in warm bodies to cuddle, but he thought...

Swiss thumps the back of his head against the stone wall behind him, running a hand down his face as the other fiddles with the cigarette pinched between his fingers, unlit.

"I'm sorry if I led you on, that wasn't my intention."

He really thought...

"I don't mind hooking up, but dating's a no."

He was so fucking embarrassed.

"No, it's, it's fine." He'd said, "No worries."

Fine.

No worries.

"Dammit..." Swiss groans, sinking down into a squat.

He'd kind of walked off after that, after saying it was fine, and just... kept going.

Honestly, Swiss had only meant to take a short walk to clear his head, but now he's here; The old chapel on the other side of the woods past the lake.

It's a place he's maybe been once or twice before, but never alone, and certainly not this late in the afternoon.

"Haahhh... Man, why am I so hung up on this?" he mutters to himself, rummaging through his pockets for his lighter, "I didn't even like her that much, I just..."

What had he been thinking?

"Stupid."

They just got back from tour, he should be celebrating, not getting hung up over some girl.

Some pretty, smart, talented girl, who made his stomach feel all wiggly...

"We can still be friends though."

Swiss lets the cigarette hang in his mouth and go to ash.

"I don't think... that's possible." he mumbles, then asks the air, "Do you?"

"I have... no idea." a voice from somewhere above his head has Swiss scrambling away from the wall.

"Who's there?!" he shouts, panicked, "Who-"

"The nightshift." says a little ghoul as they hang over the top of the wall, horns glowing bright green in the fading light, "I did not mean to startle you, but there was not a good time to announce my presence."

"The nightsh-Oh. Oh, shit! How late is it?" Swiss asks, patting himself down for his phone, but coming up empty, "Shit..."

The ghoul on the wall slinks down and crouches on the ground in a very froglike pose, reaching into a pouch around their waist and withdrawing Swiss' phone from it, holding it out to him carefully.

"You dropped this by the lake."

"You've been, uh, you've been following me that long?" Swiss chuckles nervously, wondering how he hadn't noticed them before taking his phone back, "You... you could have said something sooner."

"Mn, you did not seem like you wanted to be bothered." the ghoul replies, long, pale tail sweeping through the leaves on the ground, the eerie glow coming off the spade casting yet more of that strange green light, "Normally, I would not follow someone so far. I do not like wandering too much, but it will be getting dark soon."

"Wait..." Swiss stares at the ghoul for a moment, tilting his head, "Wait, do I know you?"

"I do not think so?" they reply, mirroring the tilt, "You do not look familiar to me."

"No, no, I..."

Swiss bites the inside of his cheek, thinking back on a conversation he'd had with Dew ages ago now...

What was...

“There’s only one other ghoul from that incident that’s still in residence here, but they live in the dorms with the human clergy, and they’re honestly kind of weird.”

“How so?”

“Walks on all fours all the time, glows in the dark like a radioactive sleep paralysis demon, dislikes other ghouls …except for fucking Aeth for some reason…”

“Why do you sound so bitter about that, hm~?”

"You're... Satanas I never did learn your name, but, I heard about you from a friend." he says finally, "You live with the clergy, right?"

The ghoul nods.

"I did not know whether or not I should be worried that people speak of me." they muse, "Or flattered."

Radioactive sleep paralysis demon...

"Ehn, it's subjective..." Swiss lands on, "So you are...?"

"Lamb."

"Lamb, okay. Uh, I'm Swiss." he says, offering his hand to them, "Nice to meet you."

"Swiss like the cheese, or Swiss like the country?" Lamb asks, giving Swiss' hand a gentle pat instead of shaking it.

"Oh, it's, I guess like the country kind, but it's more like, Swiss Army Knife, 'cause I'm a multi-"

...dislikes other ghouls...

Swiss pauses, biting his lip.

"-talented individual." he grins, "So, Lamb, um, care to escort me back to the abbey? Since it looks like the sun's going to set soon, and, ya know, can't see very well in the dark."

Lamb nods.

"Stay close then."

The walk back to the abbey is cathartic if nothing else.

Watching Lamb weave through the tall grass on all fours is silly, but something about the way they pause and wait for him to catch up, or look back at him, or warn him of dips in the path makes Swiss' chest feel warm.

"...Possibly rude question, but... why do you walk like this?" Swiss asks as they make their way round the lake, which Lamb stops at to lap at the water there like some kind of predator mammal taking a break from the hunt to hydrate, "Is it comfortable?"

Lamb peers back at him and hums.

"It's not particularly uncomfortable." they say, moving back into a seated position, "Feels safer."

"Safer?"

Lamb shrugs, then raises up, albeit not very high, standing at their full height.

They're really quite small, maybe around Aurora's height, possibly a smidge taller, but it's hard to tell without the ghoulette around to compare them to.

"I wasn't saying that to make you feel like you needed to stand up-" Swiss frets.

The ghoul gives him a confused look and carries on walking towards the abbey, their tail flicking through the grass, now brighter than before.

"Why..." Swiss starts, but cuts himself off.

"You can ask questions." Lamb tells him, as if sensing his hesitation, their tone shifting to a gentler one that puts Swiss strangely at ease, "I don't mind."

Swiss considers this, catching up to walk beside them.

"Why does your tail... glow?"

Man, he sounds like a little kid.

"I don't really know." Lamb admits, "But Omega said it's not hazardous or really... uh, toxic or anything of the sort. Although, I would not touch it."

"Why not?"

Yeup, little kid.

"It can get on your skin and stain it."

Swiss blinks.

"Really?"

And just like that, he's reaching out and-

"...Hey, Aeth, do we have any of the good dish soap?"

His hands keep that unnatural glow for two whole hours despite Aether almost scrubbing off a full layer of Swiss' skin, but it fades eventually.

And when it does?

He misses it.

[lancermylove]

Teen MC 34: Influenced by the Internet (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demon Bros x gn!Reader, platonic

Warning: Language

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Could I request Obey Me headcanons for a teen mc who's being groomed on the internet? I know this sounds like and odd topic but something I feel is really prevalent is the stuff that teens these days do online and the lack of intervention from adults. Teens just shouldn't be dating online and it's so sad to see how their manipulated.

A/N: Anon, I can't agree with you more. It's sad to see how kids/teens are exploited without realizing it. I know you said you meant both the formal definition and internet trend, but writing for the formal definition of grooming is disturbing for me. I honestly can't even fathom how sick-minded people can be. I will treat your request as MC closely following different internet/trends.

Series: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25][26][27][28][29][30][31][32][33]

———————————————

Lucifer heard you crying and asked what happened? He was worried they were injured or someone had said something to them.

But he wasn't expecting MC to say their nose was too big, their skin had textures, and their figure was not on trend.

"I need surgery to make my nose smaller...and stop eating and exercise more. Is there a way to get rid of skin texture? Maybe I should ask -"

"(Y/n), you are fine as you are. Would you kindly stop belittling yourself?" Lucifer sat down beside you and squeezed your hand between his hands. "You may not believe me, but you are perfect. Your nose suits your face. Your skin texture adds to your beauty. Your body is beautiful. There is no need to follow trends. Follow what makes you content, not to suit the unnecessary standards of insecure people."

Lucifer never understood trends but didn't bother to stop Asmo. Now, though, seeing you following the same trends bothers him much more than he wants to admit. Lucifer refuses to let you look down on yourself - your beautiful self.

Mammon raised an eyebrow and pressed an ear to your door. What were you watching? Why did it sound like...oh hell nah.

He kicked open your door and ran straight for you, not giving you enough time to react. He stared at your screen in horror.

"(Y/n)...why are ya watchin' things meant for adults? How did you learn 'bout this?"

You rolled your eyes and told him you were already a teenager, which meant you were practically an adult. "Besides, everyone my age is watching stuff like this all the time."

"Well, you ain't everyone. (Y/n), you're different than 'em...so don't go around comparin' yourself to 'em," Mammon sighed and shut the laptop but not before exiting the rated site. "You ain't gotta do what others do - you've your own mind and thoughts...you're your own individual. I'm not tryin' to lecture ya or anythin', but (y/n), enjoy the innocent times while ya still have 'em. 'Cause when ya get older, you're goin' to wish you were back to these times...so enjoy it while ya still can, y'know."

Mammon set your laptop in front of you and met your eyes, "Also, I ain't gonna tell Lucifer 'bout this, but if you go onto these kinds of sites again, I'm gonna tell him."

Levi went to get a glass of water in the kitchen, but as he passed your room, he heard you say, "So in today's video, I will hang myself from this noose and see how long I can stay."

He ran into your room, only to find you standing on a small stool pretending to hang from the noose. What were you doing?

A few days later, he found you in the woods with torn clothes and muddy makeup, making a video about how poor you were. He was confused but didn't think much.

Nothing made sense to him until he found your social media account. Were you doing all this for clout? Were you lying to your audience just to get likes and views?

Levi almost brushed it aside as you were trying to make it on social media, but then he saw the comments. Most of the comments were criticizing the demon brothers for not taking care of you.

It finally clicked. For the past two weeks, he and his brothers got hateful looks and nasty glares whenever they went outside. No one knew what was happening, not even Lucifer. He brought this up to Diavolo, but even the prince was clueless.

"(Y/n), can you stop?" Levi was nervous about confronting you alone but had to get answers.

"Stop what?"

"Making posts for clout. Did you s-see the comments? Everyone is looking down on us..."

"Who cares what they say? Just ignore them! My videos are getting so popular. Did you see how many likes and comments I got on my last video?"

Were likes and comments the only things that mattered to you? You were destroying their reputation and hurting them as well. They worked hard to build their reputation in Devildom, but that didn't matter to you, did it?

Levi quietly dragged his feet out of your room. He needed to tell his brothers before things got worst, but you will get mad at him. Why did he have to be the one to find out the reason the truth?

"You fckng b*tch."

Satan stared at you with wide eyes. Since when did you start using such language?

"Your outfit is just like your face. Ugly."

That was uncalled for. He watched the poor lady you criticized walk away with tears in her eyes. Where did the (y/n) he knew go, and who was this new person?

'You are such a bad actor. No one likes you, and your movies are horrible. Find a bridge and jump off.' Satan watched over your shoulder as you posted that comment on the actor's recent post.

Okay, this was crossing the line. Day in and out, he heard you using cuss words, trolling people online, and roasting everyone around you, including his brothers.

"(Y/n), what enjoyment do you get from hurting others?"

"Hurting? What are you talking about?"

"You just told the actor to take his life..." Satan furrowed his brows.

"I don't have anything against the actor. This is just how people talk today - it's on trend."

"And the day you told the lady her outfit was ugly like her face?"

"She asked for my opinion, so I roasted her."

"And when you cuss others out?" He curiously asked.

"It's cool to use cuss words," you laughed.

So that was it, huh? You were hurting others and demeaning them because it was trendy and to seem cool. Did you forget people had feelings? Your words had the power to hurt them? What if the actor actually listened to your comments and jumped off the bridge then what?

Satan massaged his temples as he felt a headache coming on. He had to figure out how to teach you an unforgettable lesson, so you would stop following useless and mean trends.

Asmo was all about being charming, cute, and seductive when needed, especially when it came to his social media posts. There's nothing wrong with giving your followers a little fan service. But what you were doing was unacceptable, even for him.

"Why are you doing this, (y/n)?" He asked uncomfortably.

"What? The thirst traps? I'm adding a little oomph for my followers. What's wrong with that?"

"You are not an adult...and there are creeps out there who might be misusing your content..."

"That's not my problem. I am following my heart, and there's nothing wrong with that," you huffed. "Why do you care anyways?"

"I do care. About you and your well-being...at least wait until you are a legal adult."

"Don't lecture me, Mom. I'm done talking about this."

Asmo watched you stomp out of his room while biting down on his lower lip - your behavior almost had him in tears. He needed to talk to his brothers about this.

"No, I don't want to eat that..."

"Are you feeling okay?" Beel asked, concerned. "Your...taste has changed, and you're a picky eater...did something happen?"

"No. Oh, Beel! Let's go to that cafe."

Even at the cafe, you were more interested in taking photos of the food than eating it. Beel watched you in confusion but brushed it aside until you took one bite of the sandwich and winced. Despite not enjoying the taste, you continued to eat it.

"Why are you forcing yourself to eat something you don't like? I can finish it for you..."

You shook your head, "This sandwich is trending on social media, so I have to eat it."

Your words made no sense to him. Why were you eating something you disliked just to follow a trend? Your food choice should be based on your liking, not what social media tells you to eat. "(Y/n), are you only eating trending food?"

"Yup! I want to feel included."

Beel sighed. That was far from healthy. He wondered if Solomon's cooking became a trend tomorrow, would you still eat it?

Belphie was asleep on your shoulder and woke to find you texting someone.

You were a little too friendly, but he assumed you were talking to your close friend. Then you switched to a different chat and were just as friendly.

"(Y/n)...who are you talking to? Your friends...?"

"Nope. They are strangers?"

He sat straight up and stared at you with wide eyes. "Haven't you heard of stranger danger?"

"That's stupid."

"But (y/n)...you are giving out personal information..."

"You are overthinking."

"No, (y/n)," Belphie sighed, "That's not okay. People aren't as nice as you think. They might try to take advantage of you..."

"Belphie, I know what I'm doing. OMG! Stop lecturing me."

After that response, Belphie didn't say anything and excused himself. He half wanted you to learn your lesson the hard way but didn't want you to have permanent scars.

He plans to talk to his brothers later to figure out how to scare you to get you to understand the possible consequences of your actions.

———————————————

➣  Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open || Requests: Closed

[atomicpoetrymusic-blog]

Just wanted to say my piece about hsmtmts s3 as a whole, and why it means so much to me. This is a full on ramble (what can I say, I shouldn't have gotten started), so don't feel obligated to read.

This show has been so important to me recently, as I have been going through a lot in my personal, professional and general life. 'Finally Free' and 'Here I Come' in particular mean the world to me, I honestly cry when I listen to them.

Secondly, I just absolutely adore Rina. There is something so special about this relationship, and though I have a couple issues with that final scene, I have to say the build up over the seasons was beautiful (and super frustrating, but in a good way). Josh and Sofia have such great chemistry, and the characters are so wonderfully written, it's insane. As a writer, I want to have this level of skill. I feel like I can't fit all my thoughts on Ricky and Gina into an overview of what I enjoyed, so I'll move on.

I really liked the new characters, especially Jet and Maddox, and was so happy with the brief appearances from the other cast members (especially Seb and Big Red). Although I never particularly liked or connected with Nini (nothing to do with Olivia, Nini just wasn't my cup of tea), her goodbye scenes were really well done and made me emotional.

I really like that Redlyn both came out, but were still happy in their own relationship. They clearly love each other, and are comfortable enough with each other to be open and honest, which is honestly so nice to see. Whether they further explore that or not, it was a sweet way to end the season for them. I also just love the fact that we see Ashlyn go on this whole journey of discovering her sexuality, and then Big Red just swoops in after not being seen for ages, casually announces "I'm bi" on an international stage, and then just dips. Honestly, so in character for both of them, I love it.

I myself have struggled with anxiety for pretty much my whole life, so Kourtney's arc has also meant a lot to me. I genuinely sobbed when I watched 'Let It Go' (the song, not the episode). It also goes to show that even if you put up a brave exterior, or are interested in performing, you can still have these nerves (as a shy, introverted theatre kid when I was younger, I can relate), and also that they can persevere, even if you have made steps to reduce the fear.

Carlos's body image issues are also something I can relate to, and I liked how they handled it, though I think it should be touched on more next season, if only briefly. It felt a little pushed under the carpet in favour of moving the plot along - due to episode lengths, budgets and behind the scenes stuff, I completely understand why, it just felt a little underdeveloped.

Because I am a diehard Rina shipper (and have been since season 1), EJ's plot this season has been harder for me to digest, but I think the writers handled it fairly well. We have seen in previous seasons how he feels undervalued by his dad (Cash Caswell is a terrible father, and I will stand by this), and EJ's struggle to achieve perfection is really quite difficult to see, as he just keeps being let down by his dad over and over again.

Ultimately, I think he needs to develop himself without a romantic relationship to fall back on. EJ needs to learn who he wants to be in his current stage in life, and focus on himself. I do agree that he hasn't had the recognition he deserves for directing and featuring in the show, but he also didn't take into account what others (especially his girlfriend) were feeling about how he was treating them, and he, like Gina did before him, needs to find balance between achieving his goals and maintaining healthy relationships. Another reason why Portwell just aren't suited to each other right now.

Jet and Maddox's sibling relationship was also pretty well done, and I love that by the documentary promo release, they are basically the epitome of sibling culture - teasing, but ultimately caring. As a little sister myself, it felt natural and sweet, and Maddox teasing Jet about his crush on Kourtney is absolutely something I would do to my brother. Saylor and Adrian definitely both exude big sis/little bro vibes when they're together, and were well cast, specifically as siblings.

I also liked the Ricky aspect of the Jet/Maddox dynamic, and what it meant to his character as a whole. Ricky, being the sweet sunshine child he truly is, tries to get to know Jet, despite knowing nothing about him, in an attempt to 'wear his dark soul down'. He really believes that he can get through to Jet, even though most of the others are wary.

This is a pattern with Ricky, it seems, as he has also attempted to break down the barriers with Lily, and actually succeeds at getting through to Gina. Though his relationships with each of these characters are different (and have different meanings not just to the audience, but to Ricky as well), it shows, rather than tells, that Ricky is the kind of person who sees the good in people and actively tries to encourage that goodness. This is character writing at it's finest, and the writing team should be proud.

I saw somewhere that Ricky's interfering in the sibling rivalry was because he, as a child of divorce, had the idea that getting 2 people in a room will magically get them back together and everything would be ok. As a child of divorce myself, this take hit me hard, but I can't say I disagree. It is quite interesting how this sort of behaviour and thinking can develop over the passage of time, and I think it was well-executed.

Gina, as well, has had really good character writing. Despite it being her 'Summer of Firsts', she shows how mature she can be, not just in her breakup scene with EJ (which was very well done), but also in taking Emmy and Alex under her wing. Despite the slight missteps in her approach to begin with, she ultimately helped Emmy out of her shell, and supported her through her nerves. Gina really did manage to find balance between wanting a leading role, while also being there for others, and it was done in a way that felt natural.

This is nowhere near everything I have felt and observed about this show, but I'm happy for now.

In conclusion, I love this silly little Disney show more than I probably should, and I can't wait for season 4.

[liibrii]

Chapter 1: Still the same

Ojiro Aran x fem!reader

Synopsis: In Aran's eyes you've always been someone he could lean onto. Before you lost touch after graduating that was. Now that you've found a way back into his life, cracking under the weight of the world, he's determined to be there for you as you were for him. It really is only the question of time before he falls in love with you again but he soon starts to realise he might not know you all that well to begin with...

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, friends to lovers

Warnings: timeskip spoilers, internalised guilt and shame, intrusive thoughts, self doubt, depression, anxiety, swearing, use of alcohol

wc: 3.1k

a/n: if you wanna be tagged lemme know. as always feedback is greatly appreciated!  a big thanks to @rosecaffelatte​ for the help with header and dividers!

“I dig the new look. But why just the beard, why not grow some nice moustache too? You could twirl them during matches. Like some super volleyball villain.“

Aran's coffee goes down the wrong pipe. “Is that how ya see me?” he asks during coughs.

Years later and your laughter still sounds the same. Warmth spreading through him is still the same. It's been a few months since you moved to Tokyo to finish your degree. “Better late than never, right?“ you told him the first time you got coffee together. An unfamiliar bitterness laced your voice then.

“Me? No. But the opponent might.“ You add some sugar to your cup before making a sip. Aran remembers seeing your favourite drink on the menu and wonders why you ordered something else. Maybe you just don't like it anymore. It has been some time since he last saw you.

Almost four years to be exact. Has it really been that long? He remembers the reunion as if it happened yesterday and graduation only a day before.

“We're graduating in a few days so I made you all a little something.“ You pulled neatly wrapped gifts from your bag. “Don't look so suspicious.“Seeing team's faces made you scrunch up your nose. “It's just a framed picture.“

You made one for everyone, even the first years who were merely bench warmers. It's the picture of the entire team taken after you returned from your last nationals. Aran remembers vividly how insistent you were on hanging team banner in the background. 'We don't need memories.' “But I sure do,“ you joked.

There's a hand written message on the back side. A different note for every single member.

“Take that 'Tsumu!“ shouted Osamu back then and pushed his frame under Atsumu's nose, “Look here, 'Don't tell 'Tsumu but yer my favourite twin!'“

Atsumu sneered at his brother: “What're ya talkin' about? 'Tsum-Tsum yer on the way of becomin' the best setter the world has ever known. And don't tell 'Samu but yer my favourite twin!' Take that ya pig!“

Aran laughed with the rest of the team. How typical that you would play twins against each other to create chaos. 'Aran,' his note read, 'don't forget to stretch properly after practice! And please, never sprain your ankle during matches. World doesn't have to know all your socks have holes in them.'

The first time he noticed your absence in his life was only months after graduating. The volleyball club manager who yelled at the cheering squad in front of the entire gymnasium for making a first year cry during a practice match. Fearless.

You were there when he needed someone to lean onto. With a snack and a sports drink, staying late just to make sure he didn't go overboard with practice. A light slap on his shoulders when he was wallowing in self doubt. On the days it got especially bad you pulled a pack of ritz crackers from your secret stash of snacks and bought him a drink on the way home. Sometimes you'd sit on the stone fence by the crossroad where your path home diverged, gossiping for hours about your classmates and teachers. Aran found it so easy to tell you all the trouble weighing on his mind. Be it about school or volleyball, you listened. Even when he knew he was talking nonsense, even when he knew his worries were just unfounded doubts you listened.

“Better to try and fail than to never try at all,“ you once told him.

Aran's lips curved into a small smile. “Where did ya read that? Some ancient philosopher?“

“No, it's a song.“ You pulled out your phone from the pocket and offered him a headphone. “Wanna listen to it?“

It really was no surprise he fell in love with you.

But he never spoke of how his breath caught in his throat, how his heart pounded whenever you were around. How could he when he had always known that look of pure love and adoration in your eyes would never be meant for him?

How could it be when you were so obviously in love with Kita?

No matter how much his heart ached for you he had to admit you and Kita were a match made in heaven. Years later and he still remembers the pictures in your room, you and Kita aged five or so holding hands, bruised knees and dirty cheeks, you and Kita on your first day of elementary school, you and Kita graduating Middle school. You and Kita joining volleyball club together. You and Kita locking pinkies on the way home. You and Kita. Always you and Kita.

He was so jealous back then. It drained so much of his energy trying to prevent the sneering beast from taking over. So much suppressed emotions trying to protect the friendship he to this day holds so dear. But no matter what he did he couldn't prevent his insides clenching every time you took Kita's hand. Well, why did he even expect you'd chose anyone but him? You've known him your entire life. Kita was your best friend from before either of you even knew what that meant. He understood you better than anyone. Why would you ever choose anyone but him?

For years you were happy and for years Aran believed he had moved on. Once in passing Kita even bashfully mentioned marriage. Aran congratulated his friend, even looked at engagement rings with him. That night he cam home and collapsed on the bed dazed from emotions erupting back to the surface. In his lonely, empty apartment he cried his eyes out. Never before had he been so angry at himself. He believed he was over you. And with one single sentence from Kita vines carrying your name sprouted thorns and pierced his heart.

He was a terrible friend, wasn't he? Perhaps this was his punishment for wishing you were in his arms instead. You are happy, right? So why can't that be enough? Even if it's with someone else, if he really loved you then knowing you are happy should be all that matters, right?

You were happy. Until you weren't. Aran was never glad to learn you and Kita broke up. But he wasn't sad either.

“I always thought ya and Shinsuke were gonna be it.“

Warm sunlight dances over your face. You stare out the window, the gaze of your eyes sorrowful. Aran doesn't remember ever seeing you sad. You've always been the happy one, the one capable of lifting others' spirits no matter how bad it was.

You stir your drink. “I thought so too.“ When you lean back your eyes still search for something in the street. “But that's how it goes you know, sooner or later you realise you've been wrong. One way or another.“

You're trying to sound carefree and Aran's heart cracks a little. Why are you trying so hard to conceal the pain? Don't you trust him?

You are still his friend. He's starting to think that maybe... Maybe he isn't yours anymore. He shouldn't have brought up Kita. Idiot.

“Our semi-final match is next week. Ya comin'?“

Before you answer a small voice chimes in. “Uhm, excuse me? Ojiro-san?“ The boy's eyes sparkle with excitement as he asks for an autograph and a picture and Aran's more than happy to oblige. Two other kids show up and then their parents and some of the guests who had been throwing glances at your table for some time. Aran takes his time taking pictures and exchanging pleasantries. Meeting fans is the one aspect of being a renown athlete he likes.

When he turns back at you there's a fond smile on your face. “Remember those times when you thought you had no future in volleyball because you didn't get invited to youth training camp?“ Your voice softens. “Look at you now. Ojiro Aran, outside hitter of Japan's National Team.“

The light trace of pride in your voice makes his face heat up. “I was lucky to have friends who believed in me.“

“True. I better get going, my shift stars in an hour.“ You stand up and collect your things. “Talk to you later!“

What little of time you spent together always seemed to fly past too rapidly. Aran watches through the window as you hurry down the street. His coffee has gotten cold.

His spike wins them the semi-finals. In the eruption of cheering he can't hear your voice but he does see you bouncing on your heels right beside his family. You're wearing his jersey. Not a replica, it's the same jersey he wore the last season. You jumped from happiness when you opened the present. One more for your small collection of former teammates' jerseys.

Aran beams and waves in your direction. If he could he'd run over to hug and spin you around just like he used to do back in high school but he's called away. By the time interviews are over you're long gone. A part of him really hoped you would wait for him. Just like you did back in high school. All there is is a message telling him he was amazing and you're proud of him. His heart swells and for the rest of the day nothing can wipe the wide grin off of his face.

At the after party alcohol runs in rivers. Since there's no practice scheduled for tomorrow his teammates go wild. Aran downs his fifth or sixth shot having lost count a while ago. He's warm and giddy, from the victory, the alcohol, the girl on his lap running her hands up and down his chest. What was her name again? She pulls him to the dance floor, her hair is the same colour as yours and her body feels so nice against his... She looks at him funny when he calls her your name. He gets lost in the blasting music and dim lights, the haze of all the drinks and the arm around his waist.

The sound of the alarm clock might as well be a sack of rocks someone dumped on his head. Even still half asleep the blunt throbbing in his head is becoming unbearable. He wraps himself tighter with the thin blanket. Futon beneath shifts as someone climbs over him.

Or perhaps he's just dreaming.

When the second alarm rings Aran's eyes begrudgingly flutter open. He struggles to pick up the phone trying to hit that snooze button. He rubs the sleep off his eyes. That's not his phone.

The alarm is still ringing. Oh, he's going to have one hell of a headache today. His fingers shake when he finally finds the 'stop' button. For a few moments he lies motionless though the pounding of his heart rings in his ears. Last night is a haze of disconnected voices and pictures. The futon beneath him is too small to be his and he doesn't recognise the pattern of the sheets either. He probably slept with some girl from the party. Better get up and get the awkward 'morning after' conversation over with.

Sitting up he discovers all his clothes are still on. The room doesn't look familiar, yet the smell... There's something homey and intoxicating about it.

Standing up is a feat on its own. He's dizzy from the sleep and the alcohol and has to grab the edge of the desk to steady himself. He closes his eyes and waits for dizziness to pass. In the weak morning sunlight sipping through the window he notices books and pencils strewn all over. There's a framed picture on the window ledge. It takes a moment for him to recognise it.

Last year of high school, the last trip to the beach you made together. Akagi is giving you a piggy-back ride, Omimi holds both of your popsicles with a fond look on his face. Aran stands beside him, carrying the inflatable ring you guys later accidentally popped on a rock, and on the edge of the group is Kita. His face is covered with a post-it note.

Sudden sickness twists his stomach and it's not just too much alcohol to blame. He slides open the door and looks around before walking down a short hallway to the kitchen. You're just packing your bag. “Look who woke up from his beauty sleep. Want some breakfast?“

“Bathroom,“ is all he manages to utter.

“Last door on the right.“

He finds it not a moment too early. How embarrassing, to be throwing up at your place. He feels your hands rub soothing circles on his back as he leans over the toilet. Once his stomach settles down you hand him a glass of water and some headache medicine. His head is spinning. When he finally collects himself enough to stand up on his own you hand him a new toothbrush. “I gotta go in a few minutes. Professor doesn't like us being late.“

“What happened?“ His voice is hoarse.

“You had a drink too much Mr. Lightweight,“ you say with a loop sided grin. “A girl form the party called me in the middle of the night asking for someone to pick you up. It's a good thing she did cause everyone was so drunk they couldn't stand straight. You guys really did take celebrating to a whole new level. I did take you to your place but when we got there your keys were gone. So might want to look into that. Also I'm pretty sure I strained a muscle dragging you up the stairs.“ You glimpse over to the clock on the wall. “Listen, I really have to go. My roommate'll be home all day so you can stay if you want. And when you get hungry just take something from the fridge. You gonna be alright?“

Aran nods. Fuck, even that hurts. “Need to sleep it off,“ he mumbles.

You give him one more pat on the back before you leave. He struggles for a while trying to unscrew the tube of toothpaste. Never before has brushing teeth posed such a challenge. He washes his face with ice cold water that does nothing to improve the headache or his mood.

He collapses back on your futon. So, this is your room then. It's nothing like the one he remembers from back home. The Vabo-chan plushie team gifted you for your birthday lies on the pillow. It still holds the ball Omimi made at the last moment, not that he was the one given this task in the first place. It was meant as a joke yet you brought it with you to Tokyo. Aran snuggles it, noticing how pale and worn out it's becoming. He drifts back to sleep, thinking he should tell the others you still have it. They'll be glad to hear it.

No matter how hard Aran tries to pay you back the money for the taxi ride from the party you refuse. The only payment you're prepared to accept is a trip to the seaside. The moment you see the endless blue water you run closer, discarding your shoes on the beach. Seeing you splash around in the shallow water makes him laugh.

He lays out the blanket and watches over you. It's good seeing the exhaustion on your face being washed away. Even if you didn't complain at all and said nothing he could tell balancing college and work is taking its toll. Despite smiling and appearing as carefree as always you seem tired. Aran is starting to fear you'll break under the weight of whatever it is you refuse to tell him.

He lays back on his bag, basking in the warm sun. Soon he dozes off. Once he wakes up you're laying beside him and scribbling in the margins of an article you have to read for an upcoming lecture. He lets you work and simply enjoys your presence. He missed hanging out with you, even if you don't do anything special he's just glad to have you around.  

As evening falls he draps his jacket on your shoulders. You always loved stealing – not stealing he corrects himself, borrowing- you always loved borrowing jackets and hoodies.

“Hey Aran? Can... Can I tell you something?“ You hide your face beneath the hood of his jacket.  

“'Course ya can.“

“Remember the old maple tree by the crossroad?“

Aran thinks for a moment. “Ya mean the one Suna dared ya to climb and ya fell down from?“

“That one yeah.“ A shadow of a smile flies over your lips at the memory.

“Everyone thought Oomi-sensei would throw ya outta the club. Shouldda seen the second year's faces when they thought we'll lose our precious manager.“

“A few months ago I walked past it. Thought about climbing it.“

“Lemme guess, ya couldn't? College life sucked all the strength from yer arms? Told ya ya should exercise more.“

“I was scared.“ You take a deep breath. “I climbed that tree a thousand times before. And now I'm too scared to even touch the lowest branch.“ You fidget with the hem of his jacket. “It scared me so much you know, not noticing how much I've changed.“

“Ya haven't changed that much.“

You look at him. “Haven't I?“

“No.“ Lies. A part of him knows it's lies. “Yer still the same. Our precious manager.“ He playfully pokes your shoulder. Yeah, you're still the same. You're still the you he remembers. “Yer my friend. Fearless. Always there to kick some sense into me.“ You're still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago. “Yer one of my best friends. Nothin's gonna change that. Besides-“

“I hated you.“

Seagulls' calls. Waves crashing on the shore. People chatting in the distance. “Well, hate might be a bit too strong...“ You pull your knees to your chest and hug them, your eyes fixed on the waning light on the horizon. “I was so envious of you, you know? Of all of you... You, Akagi, Omiren,... You all knew what you wanted, you going pro, them going to college, and Shin... Even back in school I was the odd one out. I couldn't admit to myself that I envied you. Now I know it was wrong. So fucking childish. But that's how I felt.“ You can't bear to look him in the eye. “Sometimes I still feel like the one who has no idea what to do with her life...“

A lump forms in Aran's throat. He had no idea. Too blinded by your light, too engrossed in his own feelings to notice what was happening underneath your carefree facade.

“Knowing that tell me,“ you glance at him and tears in your eyes glimmer in the last beams of the setting sun, “can really nothing change our friendship?“

Ch. 2: Tattered

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (4/?)

A/N: Not only is this a long chapter, but I found a way to incorporate a prompt given to me by @hoodoo12 almost two years ago I think. Also, @twenties-sweetheart I incorporated what led the reader and Zeta-7 dating. This fic is almost done. I think there's only one or two chapters left. Hope you guys enjoy!

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

_________

Chapter 4 : Your Answer

You remembered when you didn't love him; a time when you had hoped he'd be a father figure and a friend who you could play card games with on Tuesdays. You used to not know him; though once you did there was no turning back. You used to not need him, but you didn't know how you couldn't. It used to be a simple crush, but he already loved you from the start.

Perhaps, you had always known, but you didn't want to see it; you had wanted to know, but your brain at times didn't want to believe it. You thought words like his were meant for fairy princesses who lived in high towers above the heavens, for royals and the knights who attended to them; for anyone else….except you. It just didn't seem possible that this man could want you, but he did and explained for the last half hour as to why.

“That’s...that’s amazing!” you exclaimed despite yourself. “You really feel that way about me?”

He nodded, his face still flushed. “I do...I-I-I love you. Do you,” he gulped. “do y-you love me?”

Of course you did, you had said so a few times already, but he was going to need a better explanation; to be reminded continually. You screwed your mouth to the side, wondering how you could put it delicately. “Well…there's too much to say, and I know it would never be enough, but I can try. Oh, and if I start to wax poetic, then let's just say it's the writer in me trying to get out. Ricardo,” you paused, encouraging him to sit down because the poor man looked ready to shake out of his skin. “what I feel is beyond love; it's our souls dancing and singing in the night, moonlit kisses, and disappearing during daybreak. Why it's not even serendipitous, but a luxurious splendor you shower me in, day in and day out, with breaks which threaten to tear me into bits and madden me. It's an adventure," he perked up at this; it was familiar territory. "with discoveries and revelations that nip at my inward parts, and pains me with equal parts desperation, fear, and gladness." Caressing his lips with your fingertips, he sighed happily." You fill my mouth with bliss, working peace along the curve of my cheek, and color my world with mystical, intelligent sayings. Ineffable creature, your veracity; how you express yourself so honestly, I'm surprised the whole world hasn't fallen in love with you. Though, I'm glad you reserved yourself just for me.”

Placing a kiss behind his ear, he made a funny noise, but you continued. “To say I love you my dear Zeta-7 isn't enough, for you are as much of myself as I am of you. Like I've said before, I'll remind you as much as you need me to.”

“H-h-h-h-how do you know? When - when was it that y-y-you started to see me differently?”

The question really struck you as odd considering it wasn't in any of his usual tones; he had seemed so sure of himself earlier, and now self-doubt peaked it's little head out. It was solemn, in a faraway voice, followed by a frown, and the deepening of the lines in his forehead. You stood up, seeing as he seemed upset, and he took this opportunity to go and make some tea; it was one of his coping mechanisms. Soon the scent of lavender filled the house; he returned and set down the cups carefully so as not to spill it.

“Oh,” he frowned; a bit tired from the emotional rollercoaster he had been in for most of the day. “I'm s-s-so sorry. If only I-I kept things simple, then it wouldn't have gotten so complicated.”

“It's okay,” you whispered. “we're both a little flustered. It….it really took a lot of courage to say what you had said earlier. So you shouldn't apologize for being human.”

“But I'm - I'm still so sorry.”

You moved your chair as close as you could, stretching out to work your fingers through his soft hair, and managed to find the beginnings of silver strands, but you said nothing of it. “You should have seen how you looked when you told me you loved me. You were so earnest and charming."

He reached out to take your hand and place it upon his heart. It was beating wildly, almost dangerously you thought. You waited until he calmed a little, and when the heavy blush and the redness of his ears softened, you knew that it was time. He really was too much, too good for you, too lovely, and you sincerely hoped you wouldn't offend him. “I hope you're ready, cause this really is going to be a long story. I think by telling it, it'll make my answer to your proposal more believable.”

________________

For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two hadn't met before, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. At the time, you would say you were old enough to know what heartbreak felt like, as well as what warmth and kindness should be; though you hadn't been in any sort of serious relationship. Like any woman your age, you had dreams of meeting someone, but for the most part, your love life wasn't first and foremost on your mind; you were busy trying to get through everyday.

So when you met Zeta-7, it never occurred to you how much he would someday come to mean to you; let alone how much your life would change. Now, it had taken a while, a little longer then you'd care to admit. It certainly wasn't love at first sight, for under the set of circumstances in which you two had met, Rick had come off as a friendly old man. But of course, after helping you carry groceries, a cup of tea, and a ukulele song, you warmed to him and became fast friends.

At first, you were hesitant in allowing him into your home; you'd seen enough Dateline to make you cautious. So, you two would meet on your porch on a regular basis, though it was not long before you felt safe enough to let him come over and repair small appliances; it was fascinating watching him tinker. And when he wasn't too busy, you'd go and see what he was doing in the garage. Perhaps you should have known then that he was different, but you had no point of comparison, and just went with it.

Sometimes, you two would just watch TV or have an occasional dinner at Shoney’s, or a late-night ice cream on your front porch. And you'd listen to his laughter; how his happy noises seemed to fill up the house. You were delighted by the nuances of his gentle voice, and at night, he'd tell about the stars, going into detailed explanations of constellations and about other heavenly bodies. It made you wonder what was out there, and it only fed your curiosity. You were comforted by his warm presence, thinking it was nice to have a father like figure around again, to fill up the time, and carry on long, meaningful conversations with. His eye for detail and selective word choice made most of your conversations laid back but stimulating.

Whether it was in your house, in his kitchen, or a quick cup of tea in the garage, he enjoyed sharing his homemade brews and you enjoyed drinking them. While at first glance he seemed simple, you took quick notice of his genteel manners, in the way he talked, in his general presence which you found was pleasing. It did not take long to notice that he was a learned man, with various degrees which hung in the left corner of his living room; he was actually a doctor in several meanings of the word. Perhaps in all meanings of the word.

Watching him mutter to himself, blissful, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what filled him with joy. And you had always assumed that anyone above thirty-five - at least from what sense and sensibility told you - could not have any passion left, but you saw it every time he showed you a new invention; you saw him as he should be. As though he were this character who stepped off a page, you found yourself growing ever so curious about his thoughts, feelings, and machinations of his wonderful mind. You wanted to get close, to know him better, and he took this positively as you wanting to be best friends. And when he held you in his arms for the first time, you knew that he had ruined men for you. He wasn't supposed to feel so strong, and his arms weren't supposed to be sure, and hold you warmly, and most of all, there wasn't supposed to be a flutter.

Now having it formed in your mind that he was indeed a man, you could not smother your curiosity, though still, you tried to conceal it. It felt good to feel cared for again, and you didn't want to threaten it. Still, the affection you held for him was not the kind one felt for a parent. And your hopes and dreams were shattered, with this sudden, intense awareness of him, conscious of every breath he took, of his mobile features, recognized every nuance in his reflections.

All those times when you'd watch him dance in the kitchen, swaying about, more spritely than others your own age, you'd laugh, and he’d ask you to join him. And when your hands touched, it was like a current passed through you, and that giddiness would last all day. Those hands, which could create worlds, whisk a cream, or trace pictures in the sand, you could hold them in yours for eternity. Even longer, if what he spoke of at times was true.

If he had weeks where work kept him busy, he would call you, and you'd drop what you were doing to listen; he was always so excited to hear your voice; it lightened up your day. Or when he finally saw you after a few days, he'd greet you with a warm hug, and you'd return with equal enthusiasm. At times, you felt as though neither wanted to let go and held on to each other longer than what was platonically acceptable, but you'd pretend as though nothing happened, even if your heart was screaming. Why you'd almost lose yourself in his grasp.

As a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, you never felt as though there were any hidden agendas, or that he had a pervy attraction to you. On the contrary, you felt like the pervert for feeling all giddy and excited whenever he spoke with enthusiastic intelligence or showed you his experiments. There were times when you'd reach out and pat him on the back, telling him he had done such a good job, and he'd gift you with his winning smile, which caused unusual thoughts to cross your mind, and it messed you up. What was he to you?

Whether you were at home, or you sat in his home for a tea party, you knew something was the matter with you. You were a mess of feelings, of messy, happy, effervescent feelings, which you expressed in your work, in your writing. Harmless thoughts, which lingered and filled the contents of a novel. It was the story of a young woman who had fallen in love with her older, mute neighbor. In your head, you reasoned that your character was nothing like him, that the older man, as brilliant as he was in mathematics, science, and botany, who expressed himself through his actions, and kindness was made up. Perhaps your readers thought the same, but the modest ebook sales only reinforced that maybe there was something to it.

Missed glances, brief moments where you touched, awkward laughs, and a heart heavy feeling sitting on your chest; he was always on your mind. In between your issues, when you were doubtful, he'd reassure you of your capabilities, and when he felt lacking, you'd remind him of his genius. And while there were many moments which had been lovable, which were dear to you, you replayed the times that were nearest to your ideals; of what fits into your daydreams. You're not sure when, but it had been you who started to flirt regularly, and watch him blush, stammer, and get flustered; it gave you an odd thrill knowing it had been you who had caused him to feel as such, but then it would trouble you all the more. It wasn't fair to him, and you weren't helping your cause.

What were you doing, trying to toy with the feelings of an old, lonely man, who had little in the world, but your friendship and a few possessions; it filled your heart with grief. You didn't want to hurt him, you just wanted him to think you were beautiful, smart, funny, and well everything you'd want your crush to feel. If you were unhappy, he'd cheer you up with gifts, desserts, and his generous affection. For the most part, you knew his intentions were honorable, but in your head, you'd hope differently.

It could not work, he was so much older than yourself; not that you cared. For all you knew you were like the daughter he never had. In your heart, you tried to resolve that all you felt was friendship, but then he'd smile, laugh, or be kind to you and you were falling apart. You weren't a kitten, you had always liked men your own age, but you didn't just like him, you were intoxicated by him.

He wasn't even handsome. Well…at first, you didn't think so. You did however find him strangely adorable, and lovely. He was tall and slender, so he wore clothes well. Very gentle and nice, clean-shaven, with abundant blue hair, with the exception of the few strands which choose to be rebellious, prominent buck teeth which gave him a childish innocence, but straightforward, electric blue eyes which reminded you otherwise.

Your eyes would follow him as he moved about the room. Rick had long lashes for a man and was just as impressive overall, and intelligence was even more so. Could anything possibly stop him? Death perhaps, though Zeta-7 didn't care to admit how age played a big role in his energy levels at times, but you knew it was to be expected. You knew what you were getting yourself into when it came to dating someone so much older than yourself; if he'd consider it that is. For hours, he somehow kept up with your foolishness, and you barely managed to follow his genius.

You'd follow if he asked you to come, and in time you knew you were his. You felt loyalty to him, the kind which you knew you'd never revoke. You thought at first that it was his personable nature which had endeared you to him, but it was everything. He was everything.

Zeta-7 had always been affectionate, but not in the way which made you worry. You craved it, his attention, his affection, and wished to be closer than woven gossamer, and took everything he was willing to give you. You were not in love, you would tell yourself, it was merely infatuation. He was simply a cheerful grandpa kind of man, whose arms you would melt in, whose gentle, and generous affection you were greedy for. You were selfish, that was simply it.

Then came the defining moment, which happened one night while you two were cooking together. You needed a few cloves of garlic to chop for the eggplant lasagna, and he just kept handing you cloves. You told him you had enough, and he smiled warmly, telling you there could never be enough garlic and you stopped. You two stared at each other for what seemed like hours even though only seconds passed. It was as though you had come to an understanding.

His winning smile had been the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, his eyes captured you, and you knew for a fact that what you felt was something greater than friendship. The rest of the evening you found yourself in a daze, and hesitant to be near him. In your heart, your feelings felt as though it were almost forbidden, as though you shouldn't feel this way for someone who was a great friend. You blamed these feelings on your own impatience, inexperienced like the man before you. Yeah, you wanted his attention, and he had been attentive. Everyday he made sure your emotional needs were met, he'd probably do just about anything if you asked him to, but you were scared, perhaps just as afraid as he was. Still, the words themselves were an enigma, they burned, they toiled, begging to be said, but you were afraid. Yet, you searched his face, and found the answer; you were falling in love with him.

His sing-song voice twisting and curling about you. You wouldn't risk it you told yourself, but before you went to bed that night he called you and apologized if he had offended you. “No”, you had said, “I'm just not feeling well, but I'll be fine. I promise, I'm going to be okay, so you don't have to worry about me.”

“I-I-I can't help it, I care about you.” was his sincere reply.

Those dizzying warm feelings of affection bubbled and boiled, and you did your best to try to repress them. As usual, he wanted to help you feel better, but you were afraid it would ruin things; you'd rather hurt yourself, then hurt him, and never see him again. For the next week, you thought long and hard, and the next time you two met, you were sitting in his home for afternoon tea, and you told him of how you felt right out of the blue. “Rick, I like you.”

Being the dear man he was, he thought you were talking in platonic terms. “Gosh, really? Well, that's why I'm - why I'm glad we're best friends.”

“No,” you sighed. “that's not what I meant.” You watched as his smile turned to fear, but you continued. “I know you're much older then I am, and you probably see me as some kid, but I'm a grown woman, with adult feelings. And for a while, I thought it was nothing, but I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you as my friend and I understand if you don't want that to change, but I see you as a man, and I hope you realize that I like you so much. There's nothing you can say which will change it because I don't want to change these feelings of mine. I'm not saying this to make fun of you, or because I'm lonely, but to let you know that I like you and that I'm not ashamed.”

So what if you were a kitten, you cared about him, and you knew that if he were to let you down, he would be gentle about it. The sweet, kind man that he was, gently, and carefully placed a shaky hand upon yours and gave it a squeeze. And he cried, “Gosh, you - you don't know how relieved I am. I-I-I thought I was a pervert for-for feeling the way I had.”

“Wait, you….you like me too?”

He groaned, as though he were in pain, and studied you before he continued. “I-I-I don't understand, I'm - I'm so old and gross, and y-you are like a freshly bloomed rose. H-h-h-h-how…..w-w-why?”

You reassured him, taking his hand in yours, rubbing your face into his shaky palm. “Because I just do.”

When he calmed, he looked at you with such affection, and the soft look he gave you made your breath caught. He was in love with you. Even back then, his feelings had been greater, but you dared not believe it. How could you believe it?

Your kind, gentle friend had won you over with such kindness and attracted you with a tender heart. When did you know? In moments when you saw him, not the old man, but of the softness, the beauty of an intriguing mind, and of winsome determination to be happy and to help you be happy too. You held each other so tight, you felt as though you were bound together.

He held you with a strength you did not realize one his age even still had. This was a time before kisses, before great declarations. It was a time to feel, to learn, to hold one another in a soul-crushing embrace. His heartbeat was alarmingly fast, and there had been something almost boyish in the way he placed a tress of hair behind your ear. You were the first to admit your feelings, but he had been the first to ask. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and a little lip-bite followed. “I-I am quite fond of you, and seeing that we - that our feelings are mutual, would - will you…will y-y-you go steady with me?”

As archaic as the terms might have been, it was still charming, and being the kind of man he was, you knew he meant it, and that there was only one way to answer. “Yes, I'd love to.”

Of course, you would go out with him. And forever, that memory would be etched upon your soul.

________

With wide eyes, he remembered how ashamed he had felt. He sat up, ready to shield his face, but you held your arms open. Like back then, you held each other in a soul-crushing embrace. “Do you understand now, my dear, dear friend? There was no way it could have been anyone else. Like a tree planted by streams of water, I've flourished under your attentions. You see me…. you see what I am, as I am. We make each other happy, every day, all the time.”

You two were not wary strangers; passersbys in one another's narratives; not in this instance at least. Neither were you two butterflies emerging from cocoons; descendants of lovers found in a field of barley; discovering and reveling in springtime gusts and gales. No, you were not beautiful like alabaster apples on a ledge; nor figments of one's imagination. You were, however, on the cusp of change; this was the rest of it; the continuation of what had been attempted two years ago; it was nothing like how you thought it would be, but the expectancy of the moment was palpable nonetheless. For your part, you admired the lovely scarlet coloring which crept up his neck and tinged the top of his ears; how becoming it was as well as boyish. And if it weren't already obvious, you didn't need time to think of a reply, and with clear purpose, you answered. "And dear, well, we are still friends. We're best friends. The sweetest, dearest friends that anyone could ever have, except that we love one another. Oh, I do want to. I will marry you."

Oh, whatever future there might've been destined for him, you altered its course by your acceptance of his proposal. Unlike the nihilistic view where no one had a choice, and what had been written was set in stone and that nothing mattered, you decided would not be so. In partaking in this agreement, you had taken on the consequences of what might occur in connection with Rick's work life. You had also taken on the responsibility of what you'd have to do once Rick surpassed the ability to mechanize himself any further than he already had. Still, you could live with this new burden because you were no stranger to heartache and had to make the best of what you two had; love made you do it; unbidden joy was your reward.

Tbc

[goldenswan]

Diary #2

Sunny morning and enjoyable coffee. Today was quite relaxing. No calls to ring, no big news to be rushed to me, no person in need of training. I've received some new gifts too. The one i am the most grateful is a beautiful set of oil colors. I've played with them during the day working on beautiful sunrise. Such a productive day made have such a good mood that i started preparing for the job a bit earlier this time. The dress for tonight was a long, close-fitting, backless dress made of with a deep blue velvet. Today i hade chosen a diamond necklace as my main accessory.

The bar opened like any other evening. People came and go. Jungwoo sent me the most beautiful bouquet of flowers, again, which only meant today is friday. I wish i've could more but i can't apreciate men like him. His effort is something to be admired. But until he will be able to be more upfront with his desire for me it won't work. Come here, show yourself in front of me if you truly want me to see you as a man, do not just hide behind small gifts, like any man i've just worked with. I wish for the time you will actually be able to do it, maybe you might be able to change my heart but curently you're just one of my admirers, nothing more, nothing less.

Anyway, the day still went its own way.

From the people i chitchat with to the ones i've eavesdropped from what i learnt it seems that the new drug which showed up on the blackmarket is actually more dangerous than it looked at the first sight. It spreads like a virus, and big dossages makes people lose sense of themselves for bigger amounts of time, some actually don't recall but there have been some acts of violence because of them. The addiction grows bigger too after each usage. We need a deeper investigation. Our bussinesses might suffer but also win from it, if we play it right. We might need to get the cooking recipe from the source itself. We will need a plan.

The night passed easily this time. No callamities this time. But even if they would have appeared I have a small protector this time. It's actually a cute feeling to have someone here, but still, not healthy at all for him. He doesn't even consume alcohol but he stayed and watched me for the whole night. I do understand the loneliness he has, i had it too. Living in an orphanage will always be harsh on a young mind. I let him sleep at my place from time to time, when he wants to talk, having my couch free, but still, he has his dorm room and friends of his age now. It was cute in the past but he shouldn't always just come to me. I don't want to break him. I feel flattered by him but still that's not how he should live. He's at the age where he should hang out more with his teammates, train with them and prepare for anything that might appear, maybe it's my fault for babying him too much when he first joined. Sorry Jisung, I need to be more cold and push you for a bit. It will hurt but it has to be done, towards many people around me, i can let only one person to rely on me, even with him i have doubts. But... how many times have i already wrote this but didn't actually put it into action. I've became too soft. I wonder, how much my past self would laugh seeing me like this. I can already hear the inflexions in her voice while calling me weak. In my voice, i am still her and she is me, i need to stop from putting boundaries to myself. But... It's still sad.

In the past I proclaimed myself as a man-eater, a cold woman who would stomp on any men that would show in my way, trying to lead me, fools that have been played. Now i desire more and more to belong in the heart of somebody, to truly be loved and love him too. Who is the fool now? Maybe i played myself or maybe this was always in my heart but only now i finnaly see it and admit it.

After all, look at you, the one who in the past woudn't even give a second chance of a man to talk to her now just as easily prepares the glass of wiskey to a man even before he reaches the club, even when you know it well he might not show up, again, just to jug it yourself when you have to close.

Open relationships are strange, i loved them in the past. They were the part that build my freedom mentality, but now i feel getting myself tangled with feellings that would only boast somebody's greed and ego. Getting all the attention i want, no need to actually give it back without a price or having any responsibility on anyone's feellings, flirting easily, getting any gift i wish just by pointing to it, thrill to step on a man heart, crushing him, only to give him a drop of hope after it, feeding the hungry eyes with my love but only by my rules, having a new expensive dress each night, i was living for these in the past. Now? I'm not sure anymore if this lifestyle.

Maybe i got old or got out of shape that i don't enjoy it as before, the wiskey glasses seems too get more sweeter too each time i drink another one of his, or maybe it's cause i use his glass, a small indirect kiss. How funny, only a teen would feel so naive at heart to dream like that, but this is my first time actually experiencing, ironic. Each piece of ice melts one day, maybe yours too will happen at the right time with the right person.

Ah, the right time, when I close my eyes and just let the memomries play again and again in my head. Him coming to the bar. The hard day being seen in his tired eyes, making me want to hug him and take all that heaviness away. His hand going up to loose his tie while he takes the glass that was already waiting him with the other free hand. A small smirk taking shape on his face because of me reading his mind.

I liked that. Just to stare at him while the low soothing music plays in the background. The dim lights kinda painting his features, sculpting his face and becoming a breathtaking piece of art to my eyes. Everything dragging me closer to him, being tempted by his tainting eyes and small sparkles within them, just like losing track of the time by simply staring at the night sky, dark, silent, mysterious. I always wondered what new sercrets took place again in his heart. Making his eyes getting darker and darker each time i see him. I fear that light that keeps fading might really dissapear some day, or worse, i will just let myself be eaten by it, his own darkness, together with him, getting myself covered in his own black. Romantic but tragic too. Tempting myself to just forget and lose myself in him. I can still picture it right. My attention would fall easily on his hands. Taking his coat off, raising his shirt sleeves up. Seeing his beautiful neck and adam's apple dance each time he would take a gulp from the wiskey. A small sound leaving his beautifull lips, together with a deep breath exhaled, relieving any tension from his body. His eyes locking on mine while his hand is traveling easily through his hair. I take my time, letting myself be mesmerized by each part. Soon my eyes travel again to his hands, each small detail that is elegantly decorating them, each vein pulsating from his blood rushing, how many stories can he write on me with those.

My own hands wish they would be his while i caress myself, letting my imagination run wild. Traveling and hugging each side of my body. Wishing to melt again in his touch. Feeling a rougher grasp but also gentlier feather like glide. Hearing his growls playing sweetly in my ears while i feel each part of him tensing stronger and stronger, his chest rising and lowering in the same rythm with mine, never allowing to catch my breath, selfishly drowing each of my moan i wish to let out with his mouth. The highs and lows i fell fought until we got closer and closer, relivieng with eachother climax and getting deeper into our desire with each new session. Open towards each raw fantasy we had. Embracing each shade of color we would have had it hidden. I might have learned how to work my body the best way but it's been too long not to crave for his way of loving me. His kisses and moans, the passion and hunger that he is able to pour into me, making me forget about any other woman that shared his bed in his travels. Making me forget about any man that took out a bit of my loneliness while he was away. I crave you, i need to see you showing up late at night, to enjoy eachother's silence while we get through our work and simply sharing in each other eyes the desire that only this walls will know it after i close. To scream your name and hear you calling mine. Doyoung, i swear i hate myself for it, but after so long away, i cannot lie, i do miss you.

All of this, because of her. She changed a bit of me, she made me see the beauty of such love, whishing to have it my own, to feel through my whole, she changed all of us, and her accident even more after it. I still have sour taste in my mouth looking back at it.

The only thing i could actually do was to show my support, which i am faithfully still doing it for you, my beloved brother. Even though i know you've strayed away from the man you wanted to be. I know you are aware of it. I know you won't allow me or anyone to get you out of this hell. You only wish to be watched. You wish for everyone to see and experience the purifying fire you want to unleash. Taeyong, you might have supporters on this dream, but, why i feel this is only a mission fueled by the guilt and resentment, a guilt you should actually share it with us, so we can all grieve fully, so you can heal. Cause while i look to the story that you plan i only see an ugly ending. I know i should let you do it, but you leaving me, is a selfish thought that i would never want to happen. I will support you, but i will also be sure somebody will stop you. You need a wake up call. Has the promise you made for your grandfather been forgotten.

I need to go back to church, i can only pray for you. Pray for you that for each night you visit my place and let out all your cries of guilt and desperation burried deep indside it will be enough to just be with you. Going together through this, trying to lift a bit of your heavy cross, even if it will mean making mine push me harder to ground.

I need time, time to find the right solution to make you keep going until a new light will show at your end of tunnel. Please don't leave me so soon my dear brother. I love you too much to see you turning away. Hope my own cry will be heard one time by somebody and hope you will truly understand that what i will do, it will be for your own good. Until then, i will need to keep working and become stronger, for the two of us. I will bring it back that life, we will be like the old times, when we were together, playing family. I will keep you strong. This time i won't allow myself to be weak, to anyone, not even to the ones i love.

[frankenfic]

prompt #4

fandom(s): avatar: the last airbender and boku no hero academia

main character: todoroki shōto, and sorta zuko

other characters: all atla characters except zuko (it'll be explained), and also i'm combining zuko and todoroki's moms into one super mom.

setting: atla universe, with some changes to "zuko's" backstory.

basically i love zuko and todoroki and while i was watching bnha amvs i was thinking about them when i got the sudden thought—what if we replaced zuko in the atla universe with todoroki, and kept todoroki's waterbending ice ability??!?!?

basically, i imagined todoroki as zuko wandering the earth kingdom or whatever while pretending to just be an ordinary waterbender.

like, maybe zuko/todoroki's mom secretly had some waterbending ancestry and by some miracle (curse) zukoroki ended up with both firebending and waterbending.

like, he's still got the same thing where he grew to resent his father for what he did to him and his mother and refuses to use his left side firebend bc he doesn't want to be like his father and shit. except now with the bonus of banishment?

the hard part is figuring out which parts of either of the backstories to keep. for example: who gave him the scar? his mother? or his father?

idea: they both did. now, bear with me here—what i'm thinking, is maybe we keep the incident with todoroki's mom burning him with boiling water from a teapot (maybe iroh's there, idk—or, maybe that's why he always gets so angry when uncle tries to offer him tea, bc everytime he sees it or smells it it triggers his fucking ptsd of the person he trusted most in the world betraying him and causing him unimaginable pain, but like no one knows that bc it was kept so hush-hush that only zuko, ozai, super-mom, and maybe azula know) bc he reminds her of his father—

oh my god sorry for the intermission but what if she burned azula instead bc she's so much more like ozai and then ozai burned zuko bc he's too much like his mother and then we just have both of the royal fire children with burned and scarred faces, one with a burn from boiling hot water and the other from a searing roaring flame and just...both each have burns from one of their parents oh my gOD the ANGST

—and for a couple of years he goes around the palace with this horrible burn and people always stare bc like...that's the crown prince and shit. and idk ozai's probably not happy with it, but the point is:

when it comes to the agni kai, ozai decides to be extra cruel and burns zukoroki in the same spot his super-mum did, except harder and hotter so the burn is ever larger and more painful, so much so that it even reaches his ear and he can no longer open his eye all the way and his eyesight is probably damaged and maybe his hearing as well and—

and then he gets banished and he decides, you know what. fuck it.

his mom's gone, ozai's an asshole, his face burns, he can't see or hear right, and ozai still never found out he could waterbend. so.

todozuko is done with the fire nation. he's had fucking enough. he's decided he doesn't wanna go back, and no uncle i'm never changing my mind.

what would happen if i found the avatar? well i'd help him if if meant defeating my father—and go ahead, tell everyone how much of a traitor i am, i don't care. i'm already banished anyway.

you...what? you're—proud of me?? uncle, what—

and so zhōto and iroh end up traveling together (and maybe the crew, too? idk) zhōto eventually works up the courage to tell iroh about his waterbending and at first he's really terrified about uncle's reaction but

uncle looks at him like he's a fucking miracle or something, he looks at him with wonder and amazement and—

come, zhouto!!!! where are we going???? to get waterbending scrolls, of course!!!!! pick your jaw off the ground, there's no time to waste!!!! think about everything you're going to learn, everything you should've been taught years ago!!!! you're going to be a master waterbender, i just know it!!!!!!

and bc they never ditched the ship or told the fire nation of their treachery (for conviences sake) it's surprisingly easy for them to obtain waterbending scrolls—

—and also the only person who knew about his waterbending before iroh was his mother who he accidentally bent in front of and who, immediately realizing her own "tainted" bloodline was the cause, swore zhouto to secrecy and made him promise to never use it—

—and so zhōto and iroh secretly practice waterbending below deck in their rooms, and they keep practicing with it until they feel they're "ready," and then—with the help of their now loyal-to-the-death-crew (they at some point came to the unanimous decision that zhōto is way better than ozai, and he's surprisingly not a spoilered brat—bc unlike original-zuko he already despises his father and consciously makes an effort to be different) who go along with some made up lie that zhōto and iroh both died—

maybe zhōto fell in artic water during a storm and iroh jumped in to save him against the captain's warnings and refused to return to safety until he found zhōto, but before he could a wave cracked zhōto's head against the boat and he went under and iroh dived and dived and dived into colder and colder water until he was so so cold and he couldn't hold his breath any longer but the surface was too far away and he was too tired from the cold in his bones to swim and with his body empty of its last bit of air he just—

sank.

and so with a cover in place, zhōto and iroh said a tearful goodbye to their deathly loyal crew and then set off to live their new lives.

then skip foward a few years and they run into the fucking avatar and friends and wait shit is that—

—not long into his banishment, just after zhōto confessed to iroh about his waterbending, they set sail for the southern water tribe, figuring that it would be a good start for their search for waterbending scrolls, since the north would be too much of a risk and they figure: there's no waterbenders in the southern tribe anyway not after what we did to them so it's not like they need the scrolls...besides, we were gunna give them back as soon as we're done with them so if any waterbender babies end up being born we'll have returned the scrolls before they're even old enough to need them—

—but alas, when they make port they are told by a very angry boy about zhōto's age—

(i'm aging him down a year or two bc shōta was only like 14 in bnha while zuko was 16 i think in atla, about one year older than sokka—so he's about 11-12 when this happens, and katara and sokka are 11 and 12 respectively)

—that the fire nation burned any scrolls they had, when they killed his mother—

(oof)

—and so, to the great surprise of all the villagers present, and all who hear about it after, they leave immediately without harming or threatening anyone, without even searching any of the (huts? igloos?) for potentially hidden scrolls. they just...leave.

and the scarred one—the one with the golden trim on his collar who the other men defer to as if he's in charge—

—which is ridiculous, he's so tiny, he can't be much older than sokka, how could he be their leader, shouldn't it be that old guy—

—actually thanks sokka for his assistance before apologizing for taking up his time, and then leaves. what the fuck—

—then cut to three years later and now that boy (sokka of the southern water tribe, son of the chief, he had introduced himself as) and his sister (katara of the southern water tribe, daughter of the chief) were apparently traveling with the AVATAR. and that girl, katara? she's a waterbender. a fucking waterbender.

what the fu—

[chxseungyoun]

Xukun ♡ 》 Cold Heart, Warm Smile

Pairing: A career endangered! Xukun x Contented! Reader

Genre: Celebrity Life, Romance.

Maybe everyone would remember Xukun as that one trainee who rised beyond ranks when he joined Idol Producer and even earned him the center position.

Apart that, he managed to own his own recording label at a young age. It felt like he could have everything in the world during that time.

However, some stars were always meant to lose their shine and he had been one of those.

How did it happen? He could not recall but now there were no more promotions, no more calls. Nothing. All he had were memories and his cold heart.

Some people said he loss the passion that he used to have. How it flamed in fires then died than to dust. He became an alcoholic as he tried to cope with his experiences through wine then vodka when he could not afford his tastes anymore.

He spent most or his time at the local cafe where it was inexpensive and where newspapers were allowed to be borrowed. He had to try and get a job which could help him sustain a living.

You always saw him. You were a fan of him and you almost couldn't believe how your idol was sitting at the cafe you worked at.

You watched as a few people would recognize him but most of the customers didn't. You heard the news how he lost his fire and you did notice how when he was alone, he looked so cold and isolated but when someone showed interest in him, he would give one of his warmest smiles.

Or so you assumed.

It was his idol smile...probably not even his real smile.

Who was Cai Xukun and what really happened to him?

You would always deliver him his drinks but never did you once had a conversation. He had been drowning himself in the news section which never made him look up at who delivers his drinks.

You noticed how he was looking at the job postings and wanted to recommend the opening for the cafe but was hesitant to.

You overheard his call one time and it seem like he was desperate for a job considering his landlord was demanding for his rent.

So you tried to man up and tell him about the opening.

At first he gave this judgemental look but then one of those idol smiles. Next thing you knew, he was now your fellow employee.

Maybe you were just observant but he seem to have changed his look the day he started working. It was almost like he never was cai xukun. He wanted to be referred to as August.

That was the first time he heard your name as well since you were assigned to train him.

It was quite difficult since it was like...he had never worked this way at all.

"Do you need help?" You often asked and he would dismiss it and say he was fully capable of learning it on his own.

You were really nice to him but you could not say the same for him.

"I don't get why I need to be trained by someone who isn't that skilled either." You heard him talk over the phone.

Yeah, you made mistakes of your own but at least you never complained about them.

"Well, excuse me for knowing how to be a regular citizen, mr. Celebrity. Oh, that's right...you're not anymore."

Maybe you would regret it the next day. But you were so offended by what he said that you could not care about him.

The next day had been awkward considering how you both kind of made a mistake.

But you did not want to back down. You knew you were not someone to looked down on, not even from your own idol.

You two were minding your own business until a rather difficult customer came.

This customer had always been flirting with you whenever you were at work and Xukun had always noticed how you shifted uncomfortably whenever this certain customer came.

He was a very disrespectful man and he always commented about your body and even if you were not someone to let that happen, you were always scared to speak up around him.

However, the unexpected happened. Xukun pushed you aside and decided to take the customer's order. "Will you be purchasing anything?"

"I wanted to talk to her, not you." The cocky tone in the man's voice made Xukun raise a brow.

"If you aren't ordering, then you can just leave."

"How rude of you, call your manager." The arrogant man demanded and Xukun just smirked at him.

"Do you see those?" Xukun pointed to all the cameras at each corner of the cafe. "Those can contribute to a court case when we file for harrassment and also I had been recording you for a while now." He pointed to his breast pocket which had his phone in it.

"I...I'm never coming back h-here!" Then the man rushed out.

"Thank you..." was all you can mumble and you watched him give you a side glance before proceeding back to work.

Today was a long day so you two got off your shifts a little later than usual.

You were waiting by the bus stop when you saw Xukun stand right next to you.

It was silent...and a little awkward too.

Until you heard him sigh, "Hey."

You looked at him and waited for him to talk.

"I'm sorry for being rude the other day. I crossed the line and...I'm sorry for seeming like I only cared about myself." He said as he looked away.

He may have avoided eye contact but he seemed sincere.

"It's alright. I'm sorry for what I said too...I shouldn't have..."

"It's fine. What you said was true anyway. I'm losing what I used to be so..." he gave this strange smile. A smile you haven't seen from him even if you were a fan. It seemed pained but it also seemed warm.

"I know I'm not in the place to...but maybe it's time for you to find your new self...your present self?"

"How am I supposed to do that?"

You smiled softly and snapped your fingers. "I have a few ideas. Would you be okay with that?"

"Are you going to show me how to live my life?"

"That sounds kind of bad..."

"No. I'm willing to." He nodded and exchanged numbers with you.

You spent the next couple of days going to different places after work.

To the park.

To the museum.

To the carnival.

To the mini book club.

To the karaoke.

Everywhere you had fun in. Xukun seems to have been enjoying himself too. Maybe these were a few places he couldn't go to when he was still a celebrity since everything seems foreign to him.

He offered to take you home as a thank you for the rest of the day. "Hey."

"Hey." You repeated as you laughed.

"Do you wanna go on a date sometimes?" He asked which made you abruptly stop from walking.

"What? Do you mean it?" You blinked repeatedly and stared up at him.

"You got me knowing more about things but not much about you...so yeah?"

It was strange but you two did ended up dating.

It was not as awkward as you thought to be.

Or how it was when you two first met.

Even he knew that his once cold heart was slowly thawing out the more he spent time with you.

Maybe he did lose a lot from his past but having to know you and everything else he was missing out on, that was the real win.

[pensiveramblings-blog]

Recalling Abuse

Carrena R. Morgan-Moss

I was nine years old the first time my stepfather crept into my room. I remember feeling something touching me, kind of sharp, sliding up under my nightgown. I remember feeling it touch my skin in places it shouldn't—poking inside me. I remember kicking at him and hearing him laugh under his breath before he got up and walked through my room to the other bathroom. My parents had a bathroom in their room. I was too afraid to scream so I just laid there.

The next morning, I went and cried to my mom about it. She got mad at me. She wanted to know why I didn't fight him—why I didn't come tell her sooner. I couldn't explain. She said I was making awfully strong accusations and I shouldn't do that. She asked my stepfather. He denied it until he saw me cry. Then he decided to apologize as if apologizing would make things ok.

That next night, I started sleeping in shorts.

For a while I avoided him. I thought my mom would leave him after that, but she didn't. I felt uncomfortable but I didn't really understand everything so I went on as if nothing had happened. That's how everyone else was acting. We were one small, happy family.

Until, a few months later when I asked for ice cream for breakfast.

A simple request: A normal nine-year-old kid asking for an unconventional breakfast. He told me of course I could have ice cream—if I sat on his lap for a minute. I was a quiet and obedient kid so I did as I was told. I sat on his lap at our tiny kitchen table. I sat there as he rocked me back and forth, forcing me closer onto him, hearing him grunt and feeling him shake beneath me. He hugged me, said, “Thank you,” and then he got me a bowl of ice cream. I stared at it, too uncomfortable to eat it. Too sick to want it. Too ashamed to move.

When my mother woke up later, I told her what had happened—tears pouring from my eyes—she looked at me and said, “Three strikes and he’s out,” as if that was supposed to comfort me. Shortly after, watery-eyed, she asked, “But who else is gonna love me?”

I shut down emotionally after that. I started to believe I deserved what happened to me. I felt like I couldn’t hurt my mother so I suppressed everything.

Around this same time, my mom started working night shift at a cleaning company. Ogden. She’d leave for work just before bedtime and return in the morning. I’d be left alone with him all night. For a while, nothing happened. He’d tuck me in at night, clear a path through my toys so I could go to the bathroom safely, and leave the kitchen light on so I wouldn’t be afraid. Things felt ok.

But one day, as mom was leaving for work, he winked at me. I didn’t know what it meant. I even winked back. That night, he didn’t tuck me in. I got myself ready for bed. I turned on the kitchen light and I went to sleep. I was awakened a little while later by him calling my name. “Rena! Rena!” I got up and went to my parents’ room thinking something was wrong. I remember him pulling me into bed with him and bear-hugging me from behind. I could feel him pressing into me and his hands crept up under my shirt. I kicked and screamed and then went stiff as my eyes watered. I hated him. I felt disgusting and broken and I didn’t even understand why. Why would he do this to me?

It became a thing. A game to him. The wink. I knew when I wasn’t going to sleep because of the wink. I knew which nights I’d lay awake waiting for him to call my name, quietly at first and then angrily and forcefully until I answered. I knew when he was going to creep into my room and play with whatever part of my body he found fun that night. I hate winks to this day.

But I couldn’t say a word. I thought if I said anything to anyone that it would hurt my mom and she was the last person I wanted to see hurting. At such a young age, I learned how to take on everyone else’s feelings to cover my own. I’m still figuring out how to break through that effectively.

At age twelve, the abuse stopped. I began sleeping at my aunt’s and grandmother’s more often. I found friends’ houses to call my own. I spent fewer and fewer nights at home. We also moved a couple of times and I got my own room where nobody had to cross through for any reason. Mom stopped working for a bit, and things felt almost normal for a little while. I thought all was well.

Sixteen years old, a time when most girls are experimenting sexually, or beginning their first relationships, I was at home with no desire to go out. I felt like I didn't have that part of me.

One late night, attempting to sleep, I heard my door creep open. I was used to the strange sounds in such an old house and I really didn't think much of it. Then my floor creaked. I turned over in my bed to feel him touching me before I saw him. I froze. I was a scared little kid all over again. I had no will to kick. I guess he saw that I wasn't going to fight and he left me alone. That was the last time he touched me.

The next day, I got a lock for the inside of my door and I've had one ever since. Even when we moved, I got a lock.

I've never quite felt safe at home with him around. Moving away to college was the most liberating experience. I didn’t like him being around. He'd kiss me on his way to work like any father would his daughter and I hated it. "I love you," he'd say. I’d have no response.

I slept in pajama bottoms right up until I met my wife. I still can't walk around without a bra. I wear that to bed, too. My body still goes stiff when I hear floorboards creaking in the night and when anyone touches me in my sleep.

Sometimes, I find myself in periods of self-loathing. I hate myself for not saying anything to anyone sooner, for not fighting harder against him. I hate knowing that I walked right into some of the abuse and that it’s probably my fault. I’m still trying to learn otherwise. I’m learning to break down the walls I’ve built around myself from seven years of being afraid and of hating my damaged body. I’m learning how it’s possible to not hate my mom when she let this happen to me. I even feel guilty because I know this wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it screwed me up all the same.

This is what I mean when I say #metoo.