#i have fucking swimming lessons in like an hour where due to my fucking mother being there the gendered stuff is gonna be 10x worse

[autistic-katara]

why did my dysphoria have to choose right now to get rlly bad-

[alphabet-blues]

Here it is, chapter one of my baby, my magnum opus. This fic is going to be so long so I hope you guys are buckled up and ready. Each chapter also is accompanied by a literature/media excerpt and five song mini-mix as a YouTube playlist. - Venom

Read on Ao3

Title: drowning lessons

Pairing: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland), and MCU

Chapter: One

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Angst, Depression, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Graphic Drug usage, Addiction, Graphic Usage of Opioids, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, brief mentions of forced prostitution, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, drug overdose, Graphic Depiction of a Drug Overdose, Getting Together, Fluff, Banter, The Euphoria Fic, Blowjobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Addict Harley, Aged-Up Harley Keener, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Drowning Lessons, Falling In Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, Partying, Purchasing of Drugs, Harley's Nirvana Hoodie is a character

Summary: It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

In which Harley takes pills, listens to Nirvana, and doesn't want to be alive anymore.

Falling for Peter is easier than breathing, and also the least of his problems.

(Also known as the Parkner Euphoria Fic)

Mini-Mix 1 for Chapter 1

The Pool Players. Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We Left school. We

Lurk late. We Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We Die soon.

- Gwendolyn Brooks

It all started with a house party and a bad idea, like most things in Harley’s life.

He was 14, and it was his first party. Well, not his first party, but his first party with actual high schoolers that involved booze that wasn’t snuck out from a parent’s meticulous liquor cabinet. Harley though, didn’t have much of a taste for alcohol.

The smell of beer on people’s clothes was tainted by memories of his Father. He’d had his first beer when he was 10, given to him by his Uncle with strict orders not to tell his Mother. It was bitter, rancid, and burned as it went down and Harley couldn’t understand how people loved this stuff. Or how his Father had chosen this over their family.

The party was a little ways out from the main road and tucked behind a line of trees that led to a few rolling fields of corn. It was October, and there was a slight chill in the air. The corn had been combined at the end of summer, leaving a desecrated patch of land in its wake. By the time next summer rolled around, there would be stalks nearly as tall as Harley. He was fascinated by the cycle of it all.

Technically, there wasn’t supposed to be any freshman at the party, but he had weaseled an invite from his friend Joey’s older brother, Mike, as long as he followed his strict orders to “be cool.” Harley could do that.

When Harley made his way into the house he watched the different crowds of upperclassmen interact. Some were dancing to the loud thumping of the music playing from the speakers by the TV in the living room, while others were huddled into tight groups, either drinking, or passing a joint around. An ache settled inside Harley’s chest.

Harley committed to his role of being a wallflower and held back from all of the groups as he made his way through the house. He had sat on the couch for close to a half-hour when someone passed him a joint and told him to take a hit. Harley did, and was careful not to choke so he didn’t look green at his first-ever real party.

The joint in question got passed around their circle a few more times until someone put it out. At that point, Harley had taken several puffs and was starting to feel light-headed and fuzzy, but in a good way.

The ache in his chest morphed - it spread warmth over Harley’s ribs and clavicle, but it still burned.

Harley floated through the house afterwards, giggling at nothing, and took whatever was offered. He drank something bitter and sour that made him want to hurl before he was passed something sickly sweet but felt like acid as it washed down. When he finally stumbled out of the house he felt a happy buzz wash over him. He could barely feel the cold nip of the air, and goosebumps raised all up along his arms.

He found his bike where he had discarded it on the grass lawn when he arrived. It was hard to see in the dark, especially with his head swimming, but he managed to pull his bike onto the road. The wind of the night air blew through his shaggy overgrown hair as it fell in his eyes. He biked down the eerily quiet streets of his hometown as the persistent aching in his chest eventually subsided, for the first time since it had arrived. No one was around, and his ears were filled with static due to the lack of sound - a sharp contrast from the thudding bass of the party.

He fell off his bike twice before he got home, and winced as his elbow got scratched up from the gravel. But instead of being frightened, he was elated, he couldn't really feel it. He snuck back into his room through the window he kept unlocked for that exact purpose, and made sure to be as quiet as possible, even though the motor functions in his hand were failing him and it took him multiple tries to get his window up.

He changed his clothes, noting how they smelled, and buried them deep into the bottom of his hamper so his Mom wouldn’t get suspicious. When he finally collapsed onto his bed he felt sated. He was warm, and the rocking of his bed from his head spinning as he closed his eyes lulled him to sleep.

It was probably the best sleep he’d gotten in years.

That was the start, but it wasn’t the beginning.

The beginning was not quite a year later, at the start of summer break. He was invited to a pool party by Mike’s friends. As soon as the sun went down they all changed out of their bathing suits and into t-shirts, and shorts. They relocated to Maddy’s basement - the girl who had been throwing the party. Harley was expecting the alcohol, and the weed. He’d gotten used to it by now, and even knew how to roll one of the best joints in town. He kept a stash in a sealed bag buried deep inside his nightstand that he would pull out and smoke in the backyard by the shed whenever things got overwhelming. Or, for when that well-known emptiness crept into his veins, that instead of making him angry, just made him sad, and desolate.

He was used to the weed, but the pills were something new. He was halfway through a joint that he had matched with a girl he vaguely recognized. She had introduced herself as “Tasha” when one of Mike’s friends stumbled over and sat down next to him. Harley passed the joint over to Tasha. His head was swimming pleasantly, and he grinned over at the guy who he was pretty sure was named Toby.

“Look what Jessica’s sister brought,” Toby said excitedly as he held up a baggy with a bunch of tiny perfectly round blue pills. “She’s like the fucking tooth fairy, I swear to God,” He crowed as he handed a pill to Harley and one to Tasha. Tasha glanced over at Harley nervously, and Harley didn’t say anything until Toby left, probably to go distribute the pills to the other partygoers.

Harley looked down at the pill he had clutched in his palm. It had a ‘5’ etched big in the center, with a smaller ‘325’ carved under it. Harley recognized the pills from health class. It was percocet.

Tasha finished the joint and then stubbed it out on a spare plate that everyone had been using as a makeshift ashtray. “I’m gonna go see what Josh is up to,” She told Harley in a small voice before handing him the pill she had been given. “I’m good with just weed.”

Harley nodded dumbly as he watched her scamper off. He took in the scene of the party going on around him as he stared at the now two pills in his hand. It felt like an old cartoon where there was an angel and devil sitting on his shoulder arguing over what he should do. He stared at it for entirely too long before he said, “Fuck it,” and swallowed one down dry. He tucked the other one into his weed grinder for safekeeping, figuring that even if he hated how it made him feel he could probably sell it to someone at school for a couple of dollars.

The next twenty minutes passed slowly as he waited anxiously for it to kick in, to see how it would feel. He didn’t feel anything for the first while and was gonna accuse Jessica’s sister of being an idiot and buying counterfeit pills when it started washing over him in waves. He went out to the back deck where the pool was, and where it was relatively empty. He sat down on the edge as his eyes went half-massed, and the ribbons of euphoria made their way through his bloodstream.

For a blissful while he didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. He laid out flat, head facing the water, and started swirling circles in it with his pointer finger. He watched for what felt like hours as his finger caused ripples in the pool.

It wasn’t until later, much later, when Joey was helping him into his house quietly, because he was too fucked up to stand, that he pulled the grinder out of his pocket. He opened it once Joey had gone home and looked at the little pill inside of it. Harley didn’t understand alcohol, but he understood this. He would do anything to feel nothing again.

It wasn’t an all-or-nothing type beat, at least in the beginning. It was more gradual. As the low simmer of Harley’s misery built so did his coping mechanisms. It wasn’t until right after he turned 16 that he was sneaking out to parties every single weekend, coming back high, drunk, or sometimes something worse.

He bought from Jessica’s sister for a while until she left town. Then, he bounced around various dealers getting wildly different qualities. He tried a little bit of everything, and never turned down a pill if it was offered. He passed out in so many different basements he lost track. He could tell that his Mom was catching on to his worsening attitude and sunken eyes. Hell, even he had noticed the weight he had lost and how he was able to count most of his ribs without sucking in anymore. None of that mattered. All that mattered was how he could get rid of the emptiness inside of him, even if it was just for a night, or however long the drugs in his system lasted.

He got a job bagging groceries at the mini-mart downtown. Most of the people that he worked with were college burnouts who sold and did drugs whenever they weren’t showing up for a shift. He bought baggies of pills in the parking lot whenever he got off work with the money he made from his minimum wage. He knew that he couldn’t keep up the delicate balance forever, and eventually there would be a tipping of the scales.

It was a month before his 17th birthday when he ran out of money.

He needed a fix so bad that his hands were shaking and he could barely see straight. He had nearly crashed his bike 10 times on his way over to Tyler’s apartment. He wasn’t the best of dudes, but his shit was always pure, and Harley knew he could deliver.

Once Harley climbed up the steps he walked along the railing until he got to the door that led to Tyler’s apartment. He rang the doorbell as he fidgeted with his hoodie and dug his fingers into his palm so hard he nearly drew blood. When Tyler opened the door he followed him inside, chewing on his lip.

Tyler went back to his room as Harley waited anxiously in the foyer. He didn’t have any money, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. All he knew was that he needed another pill. He needed everything to stop. He bit his thumb as he waited for Tyler to come back out. After a few tense moments, Tyler came back out with a baggy full of familiar pills. He sat them down on the coffee table and glanced at Harley expectantly.

“I can pay you back next Friday. That’s when I get paid,” Harley told him, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

Tyler sucked on his teeth and grabbed the pills back up, before Harley had a chance to reach for them. “You still owe me for last time.”

Harley’s stomach dropped. “Right. I know that. Just- ... I can pay you back next week.”

Tyler shook his head. “And what’s in it for me?”

Harley’s eyes widened as he took in the setting of what was going on. “W-what do you mean?”

Tyler shrugged. “How bad do you want ‘em, kid?”

Harley bristled, and brought the sleeves of his hoodie down to hide his hands. He wanted to hide from the situation completely, but knew he’d be right back here tomorrow if he didn’t leave with the pills that he needed. “What do you want?”

“I heard you gave Colson head at the bonfire party a few months ago,” Tyler said, as Harley’s face burned. “You any good?”

Harley counted to 10 in his head. He thought about a lot of things in the time it took for him to count. He thought about his Mom, his Dad, and his sister. He thought about his one English teacher from the previous year who always had an absurd amount of faith in him and told him that he was capable of great things if he just put his mind to it. He thought briefly about Tony and his billions of dollars while here he was broke as shit and questioning his morals. He thought about Colson, who he’d had a crush on for a couple of months, who let him blow him at a party and then told him afterwards that he wasn’t gay, and that they probably shouldn’t do it again. Lastly, he thought about how shaky his hands were and how all of this would be over as soon as he got his hand on the pills. There were five in the baggy. If he paced himself he could last until next Friday when he got paid and he would never have to do this again.

With that resolve in mind, he closed his eyes and dropped to his knees.

| | |

When he left Tyler’s apartment he couldn’t stop wiping at his mouth, and how it felt dirty and raw. He got halfway down the street before he let his bike fall to the ground and bent over to wretch into the grass on the side of the road. He didn’t have much in his system so it was mostly just bile, but anything, literally anything, was better than the lingering taste of Tyler’s cum in his mouth that only served to remind him what he had let him do.

Once he gathered his wits back up, he was able to make it to the 7-Eleven that was only a few blocks away from his house. He parked his bike in the bike rack outside half in a daze, feeling like he was no longer inside his body. He went into the bathroom with his hood up, and made sure nobody else was inside. He wiped down the edge of the sink with soap, and dried it meticulously with the thin paper towels from the machine. He took one of the pills out of the baggie and smashed it until it was basically powder. He spread it with his finger into a line on the edge of the sink and snorted all of it in one go.

As soon as he did he felt the immediate head rush and stinging pain in his nasal cavity that made his eyes burn and well up with tears. He grabbed onto the sink for dear life as he took several deep breaths. He looked up and finally made eye contact with himself in the mirror. His hair was a messy tangle, and greasy, on top of his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was red, as well as his mouth, which looked rubbed raw. In a certain light, it could have been enticing, but Harley knew that he just really looked wrung out.

He glared at his reflection in the mirror until someone else walked into the bathroom. Harley froze in place and waited till the guy took his position at one of the far down urinals. “Whatever,” he whispered to his reflection as he turned around and left the bathroom, wiping at his nose with the bottom of his hoodie sleeve. The moment he reached his bike he felt it start to kick in and he breathed out a sigh of relief as the telltale rush he had gotten used to spread from his head down his shoulders, all the way to his toes as his chest flooded with warmth.

He just had to make it until next Friday, and then everything was going to be okay.

| | |

The thing was, Harley was a pretty angry person. He wasn’t angry all the time, but the slightest thing could set him off. He had a temper like his Dad, and it was always hard to stop himself from doing something rash, or impulsive. His Mom liked to say that he thought with his fists before his head. His anger was more like a low simmer, on a backburner constantly until something set him off and he snapped. It had only gotten worse since he started the pills, but so had everything in his life. He knew he had a problem, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stop.

Harley had been getting into fights at school for almost as long as he could remember. There was a day in elementary school where he had to wait outside the principal's office with a split lip and torn-up knuckles. He could hear his Mom crying through the door, he could hear her saying how tough it had been since Harley’s Dad had left and it made him feel awful. But, it also kind of just made him want to punch stuff more.

Kids at school were mean, but all kids who are growing are mean, and seem to have endless bouts of nasty shit to say. They picked on Harley because he was weird, and nerdy, and his Dad had left. There wasn’t even a divorce like some of the other kids in his class. He didn’t have elusive tales of two Christmases, or weekends at his Dad’s - all he eventually got was Tony Stark showing up in his garage when he was 9, before he fucked off just like everybody else. Sure, he had decked out his garage, but that didn’t mean much. Tony was a fucking billionaire, it was probably the equivalent of him giving a homeless kid on the street a 5 dollar bill.

Harley got better at learning how to deal with his anger. He also got better at not getting punched, and throwing his own. He learned how to hide bloody knuckles, or bloody noses, and only got pulled into the office a handful of times. They made him go to the school counselor and she said it was a coping mechanism; that the violence was a way for him to act out and ask for attention. Harley thought she was mostly a quack who didn’t actually give a shit about the kids she was supposed to be helping. The fighting had been self-defense, but the pills? He could admit that those were probably the coping mechanism.

Harley thought about his school counselor as he locked the door to his room and threw the baggy of pills that he had worked so hard for into his nightstand, under a pile of books he was supposed to be reading for class and knew he never would. He wondered what she would think of him now, or what he had done. He laughed mirthlessly at the picture of her horrified face as he told her that the school system had failed him, just like his Dad, and just like everybody fucking else.

Despite everything, his grades were good. Harley was smart. He knew he was smart, and that was half of his problem. He stopped having to try in school after the second week of 6th grade. He always showed up, and always finished his work though, even if he was working on his projects high out of his fucking mind. He usually wrote his best papers that way.

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he thought about his Dad. He thought about what his Dad would say to him and his pills. Maybe an outsider would draw parallels to him and his Father, from one addict to another. He wasn’t anything like his Father, though. Yeah, Harley had a problem, but he was still here, still doing the shit he was supposed to be doing. He was still a functioning member of society as far as he was concerned and hadn’t ran away as soon as things had gotten tough. His Father was a coward and that’s all he’d ever be.

Sometimes though, sometimes, in the dead of night when he was shaking and sweating from either a comedown, or withdrawal, he would try to discern if his Dad would be sad, if he even gave a shit at all. He wondered if he would be disappointed.

Whenever those thoughts took hold he would just text one of his friends to see if a party was going on, and there usually was. He’d smoke a joint, or take a pill that was offered and suddenly he’d forget all about the thoughts that had previously been consuming him.

But the thing about all of his anger is that he would gladly take it over the sadness. There was a hole inside of him. He wasn’t quite sure when it formed, but it was there. It threatened to consume him whole on nights he was alone and could only stare at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom. The only time when he didn’t feel empty was when he had some chemical pumping through his veins. So that became his thing.

He couldn’t ignore though, how it was hurting everyone he loved. Abbie and his Mom never said anything, but sometimes it was like they knew. They would give him a look with their sad eyes like they wanted to help him, like they somehow had the capability to heal him. When he came home on certain nights, pupils blown and speech slurred, his Mom would look at him like he was his Father.

Maybe he was slowly becoming his Father.

Either way, it hurt, and he couldn’t stop. The only thing that didn’t hurt anymore was the dizzying rush he got whenever he snorted the pills that he had come to love so much.

There was one night that Harley could remember. He had slammed his bike on the front porch a little hard, and had made a little too much noise coming in through the window of his bedroom. He was high as shit and the world was thick, but buzzing around him. He changed out of his jeans into an undershirt, his hands fumbling and not working right, like they were no longer connected to his brain. When he finally finished his task he stumbled out into the hallway to go to the bathroom before he could pass out for school in the morning.

As soon as he got to the door of the bathroom he could hear his Mom talking in the living room, and he froze. Her voice was muffled, but he could still make out what she was saying. It sounded like she was on the phone with someone, which wouldn’t be an unusual occurrence for her, especially at this time of the night. It always made Harley smile whenever he would come home and she would be gabbing excitedly with one of her girlfriends, or spilling town gossip. This time, however, Harley could tell she wasn’t chatting with her friends.

“He’s just been so withdrawn. I know he sneaks out of the house almost every night and I don’t know if I should let him have his freedom or be concerned.” Harley heard her say, her voice sapped, and weary. “He’s so bright. You know that. I’m worried that’s going to be what gets him.” She paused for a while, so someone else on the phone must have said something. Harley took that time to let his head fall against the door of the bathroom.

Harley had a feeling the conversation was about him and it made him sick. His fuzzy brain was taking in all the words she was saying and knew that he didn’t want her to feel that way. He didn’t want her to worry. But he also couldn’t stop. His brain was whirring all the time and the only thing that ever gave him peace; a fucking reprieve, stopped the voice in his head - the one that sounded like his Father, the one that told him he was a waste of space, that he was nothing - were the pills that he took, or snorted, whichever was easier, or quicker, really. At least when he was high he was a good nothing.

“No, I know. And he’s so good sometimes. He’ll be happy and chatty, and he’s always been so good with Abbie...it could just be a teenager thing. Sometimes I’m just at a loss. I know he needs something, but I don’t know what that is.”

The world to stop turning, Harley thought, with a sudden flash of vengeance. If there was one thing he could write on his Christmas list it would be for the world to stop turning, and for him to stop breathing. But that would definitely cause his Mom more concern and he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to listen to the conversation anymore, so he made sure to open the bathroom door obviously, and took a few stomping steps inside, hitting his hand on the counter in the process, that way she would be alerted to his presence in the hallway.

He couldn’t make out her voice after that.

Harley stared at his face in the mirror. He took in his red eyes, pupils swallowing his irises, skin pale and sickly. At one point he might have been something to look at, with sweeping blonde hair, and a crooked grin that his Mom used to always pinch and say was her favorite.

He didn’t look like that anymore.

He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His outside finally matched his inside - a hollow shell of someone pretending to be a person.

When he got out of the bathroom his Mom was no longer on the phone, and he couldn’t pretend to be anything other than absolutely exhausted, so he shuffled into his room and fell back onto his bed. He played the words she had said on the phone call over and over again in his head until he fell asleep.

| | |

Harley was smart, brilliant, actually, that was the thing. School was a breeze, but he knew that even though he kept his grades up, every time he snuck back in through his bedroom window his Mom was disappointed in him. He knew that she had no idea what he was doing, but she also wasn’t stupid, and somehow knew he was close to doing something that would throw his life away.

If only she knew that this was the only way he could keep on living. If only she knew he probably would have slit his wrists in the bathroom if those tiny little blue pills hadn’t kept him company, and drove away all the malicious clawing thoughts that flickered through his brain constantly.

Harley had an affinity for building things. He also had an affinity for hacking, which would have been worrisome if he wasn’t good enough to hardly ever get caught. After he burned his bridges with Tyler he started exploring his other options. Hacking into the local hospital’s database was so easy it was almost laughable.

He quickly learned it was going to be a dead-end because they kept all their opioids in a Pill-O-Matix which was an automatic drug dispenser that used doctors’ credentials to unlock it. Even if Harley could somehow bypass it he would have to disable the security cams, and it wasn’t something he could do on a regular basis. It wasn’t worth it.

After that, he did some digging into his local pharmacy, but that was mostly a dead end as well. Their computer systems were out of date, but most of their pill tracking was manual, as it was a tiny small-town pharmacy. If any of their opioids went missing they would surely be noticed.

So Harley started bouncing around dealers again. He knew it was dangerous. But the hole inside of him was just as, if not more dangerous, so he knew what he had to do. He got shitty pills from freshmen with older siblings that dealt; who didn’t know the worth of what they were selling. On one occasion he got a set of pills of oxy that were cut with speed that made his heart race and he felt like he was having a low-grade heart attack for hours.

He didn’t want to be this way - a junkie. But he found something that worked when nothing else had. He could feel himself getting worse and worse and knew rock bottom was just around the corner. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was a sick desire to actually hit rock bottom and to see what that felt like, or if his own self-control had finally waned to a point of no return.

It all came to a head a week before his high school graduation.

Graduation parties were popping up all over the place, and Harley wasn’t about to miss any of them. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see his friends (friends that he could barely even call friends anymore because he didn’t really talk to anyone who wasn’t going to eventually sell him drugs).

It wasn’t even that he wanted to have a nostalgic cry fest with all the people who had tortured him his entire adolescence. He just wanted to get as smashed as possible so he could forget everything. Then he wouldn’t have to think about college, which he couldn’t afford, or all of the stress that came with being on the cusp of adulthood.

He could tell that something was off as soon as he took the first pill. He got high quicker than usual, and he also felt higher than what was normal. He relished the buzz, every second of it, and used his impairment as an excuse as to why he took another one, and another one once it was offered. He was never one to turn down free drugs. By the time the third one kicked in he could barely walk outside. He must have fallen on the grass lawn because one minute he was looking at the driveway that led to the house, and the next minute he was blinking up at the night sky.

He didn’t even realize that he was puking until someone was rolling him over with a bruising grip on his arms and back. The bile that had been clogging his throat rose and fell out of his mouth as he heaved and heaved. He puked into the grass for what felt like ages until he tried to focus his eyes and could only make out a vague blob of a person standing over him.

“Fuck, Harley,” he could hear the voice saying, but it was distant. It sounded like they were crying, but he couldn’t figure out why they would be crying. Harley opened his mouth to speak but when he did he only choked on bile once again until he was forced to spit it out in the grass.

A loud ringing was in his ears and all the talking he could hear was muffled and unintelligible. He started shivering violently and couldn’t stop. The hand that was holding him reached for something in the pocket of his jeans but Harley could barely feel it. He came back to himself enough to glance over with glassy eyes and recognized the person as Joey. Fuck. He shouldn’t be seeing him like this.

Joey had a phone pressed to his ear, and Harley tried to piece all the details together to figure out what was going on but it was hard to think. All he could feel was the sudden pounding in his head and how his whole body ached in a way that made him feel like he had just been run over by a semi.

It could’ve been hours later, or only a few minutes, time was passing weird for Harley. But suddenly he was seeing his Mom. She was pale as a ghost as her face floated in front of him, blocking his view of the night sky. “Mom?” Harley said, not quite believing what was in front of him. Just saying those words scratched against his raw throat and suddenly Harley was so, so tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

“Harley, baby.” His Mom said, her cool hands pressed against his face. He was burning up. When did that happen? “What did you take? We need to know what you took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Harley mumbled out, his words barely coming out as sounds or words. His Mom must have understood because her face turned thunderous.

“What did you take!” She yelled, her voice turning shrill as she screamed. Harley winced and his eyes fell shut until someone was shaking him, causing him to blearily open his eyes again. His Mom and Joey were like little pale-faced moons over his head as he could hardly make out the details of their faces, or why they were looking at him like that, or why they were so concerned. Couldn’t Harley just go to sleep?

“...hospital,” He heard his Mom say distantly. Then jerkily he was being pulled up by two pairs of hands until he was upright. The movement jostled him and his head fell back painfully like a rag doll. The sudden motion caused him to start puking again, and he bent over and heaved on an empty stomach which only made his throat feel like it had been hacked at with razor blades. Every inch of his body hurt.

He didn’t realize he had been put into a car until he was laying in the backseat while Joey held his head, probably to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit again. This was one of his worst nightmares. He could hardly think but suddenly he was stuck in a spiral of guilt so strong that it choked him even further. He could taste the bile he had been throwing up all over his mouth and tongue, and could hear his Mom crying from the front seat.

He was so sorry.

Nobody should be seeing him like this. All he wanted was to go home and pretend like none of this was even happening.

“I’m sorry,” Harley said, even though it was hard for him to talk. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to his Mom, Joey, or possibly both. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying in between the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep.

| | |

When Harley woke up he was in a brightly lit hospital, and was lying in a bed. He had various wires hooked to his arms and he felt like death warmed over. Once he was able to blink through the blinding lights and focus on the room he noticed Abbie and Mom, both sound asleep in their own respective guest chairs. A lump formed in his throat as it settled in his bones what had happened.

| | |

After his Mom woke up they fought for what felt like hours. Eventually, it led to her crying as she said she didn’t know what to do. The pills Harley had taken at the party had been laced with fentanyl, and they had caused him to OD. The doctors had told her that he showed signs of having a long-term opioid addiction and would have to go through detox before he would be released. Harley had denied it vehemently until his Mom had told him to cut the bullshit.

In the time that it had taken him to recover he had missed graduation, and hadn’t been able to walk across the stage like the rest of his classmates. Harley pretended that it didn’t sting.

It was clear that his Mother didn’t know what to do with him, and Harley didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that she looked at him differently now, or the fact that he had hurt her so deeply. It wasn’t until he went through the detox with gritted teeth and false promises that he would stay clean that he knew nobody really believed, that he was able to go home.

When Harley got to his room, he stopped short in the doorway and stared. All of his stuff had been packed up into bags that were sitting on his bed. He turned to look at his Mom, who was only a few feet behind him, with betrayal and fear. Was she kicking him out?

Instead of answering him right away, her eyes trained on a picture that was hung up in the hallway, just a little ways down from the entryway to Harley’s bedroom. It was a baby picture of him. His blonde hair was platinum then, but still tangled at the top of his head like a bird's nest, and he had a wide smile on his face that was completely toothless and all gums. He could see the tears welling in his Mom’s eyes as she turned back to face him.

“When you first mentioned that you wanted to take a gap year I got in touch with Tony. He gave me his number years ago and said to call if we ever needed him. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the number was still going to work. I thought it might do you good to go and see him.” Her voice trembled then, “Lord knows he has more resources than I do.” A tear trickled down her cheek, but she continued. “I know you’re not happy here, baby. You haven’t been happy for a while, and I don’t...I don’t know what to do.”

Harley tried to let her words sink in, but they weren’t making any sense. “Since when does Tony give a shit about me?”

“Oh sweetie,” His Mom said, eyes sad. “He’s always been keeping tabs on you. He wants what’s best for you.” She seemed to gather herself together then, and her voice was less wobbly when she said, “I think a change of scenery will do you good. You have a flight to New York tomorrow morning, so you should probably get some rest.”

Harley balled his hands into fists at his sides and glared at the bags that had been packed for him. He was a problem who was being shipped off to New York because his Mom no longer knew how to handle him. He wasn’t sure what Tony fucking Stark was going to be able to do for him. The fact that he had been keeping up with Harley and how he was doing hit him as a shock because he genuinely thought that the man had forgotten about him, or at least, didn’t care for him anymore. He didn’t know how to handle the information that not only did Tony in fact care about him, but cared about him enough to open his home to him and want to help him.

“And what if I don’t want to go to New York?” Harley tested, because he always had to push.

His Mom only pursed her lips sadly. “It’s not negotiable.” She closed his door then, he guessed to give him a semblance of privacy. Not like it mattered, he was sure his room had been cleaned of all his stashes, and all his shit was packed up anyway.

Harley punched his pillow repeatedly, and screamed into it a few times before he ended up curled up in his bed and staring unblinkingly at the wall. If he was miserable in Tennessee he doubted New York was going to be much better.

Thanks for reading! This fic means so much to me and I can’t wait to hear the response to it, and post more :)

[vivisextion]

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

[simoviacourt]

TRIGGER WARNING: This post discusses (but does not depict visually) several heavy and upsetting topics such as eating disorder, physical and mental abuse and trauma. As such, the rest of this post will be under the cut. Please read at your own discretion, or feel free to skip to the next post. It is also one of the longest posts I’ve ever done so... reader discretion advised. 

Previous - Next

Zonneminster Royal Hospital, the Queen’s wing, later that day 

Andrew: Gods... Alma... I thought you were doing better.

Erasmus: She seemed happy. Until a few weeks ago. 

Andrew: What happened? 

Erasmus: The war. And she had an incident with her commander.

Andrew: Constantin? What about him? 

Erasmus: It appears he confessed his love to her and kissed her. 

Andrew: Fuck. That’s the last thing she needed.

Erasmus: It would appear so. But I don’t understand... has she always had trouble with her heart or?

Andrew: No... it’s... nothing like that. The doctors said it was... severe arrhythmia brought on by her... diet.

Erasmus: Diet?! Her heart stopped, twice, that’s not something that is due to a diet.

Andrew: I know... it’s just we’ve never discussed it in the actual terms. 

Erasmus: For God's sakes, so she’s been starving herself?  For years it would appear! Don’t think I can't put the two together. Why hasn’t she gotten help before?! Whoever thought it was wise to let it go this far?!

Andrew: (sighs) You... you don’t understand.

Erasmus: Then explain. It’s about time someone does. She very nearly died.

Andrew: Gods... where do I even begin?

Erasmus: How long has it been this way?

Andrew: It first started when she was 8...

Erasmus: What? And all this time she has gone without any professional help?!

Andrew: My family... they... it coincided with my mother’s ascension to the throne, everyone was too busy. They thought Alma was just acting out, being difficult with food as they called it, it would pass they said. Especially after the whole thing with the tutor.

Erasmus: The tutor?

Andrew: Yes... Meester Keizer. He was assigned to Alma when she turned 8, shortly before my grandmother died. We were no longer taking lessons together because Alma had to start her training as second in line. A vile, cruel man. Always got bad vibes from him but he must have come highly recommended I suppose. I was only 10 at the time, not much older than Alma.

Erasmus: Go on...

Andrew: I was the first and I think, at the time, the only one to notice anything. You don’t know it, but the Alma we see today is nothing like the Alma I remember before…You know she used to sing all the time? Put on silly little shows for all the staff and our parents. Charmed everyone she came across...She just had this whole energy about her. Liefje reminds me a lot of Alma, or at least of how she used to be. But then she started to change. Stopped singing. Stopped smiling. She would try to make herself invisible. So I tried to help, to cheer her up in any way I could. I even stole cookies from the kitchens for her.

Erasmus: You were but a child too. 

Andrew: I know... but I was determined to figure out what was happening. Then one time, when we went swimming, at the Cottage, I saw a bruise on her arm. She freaked out when I asked her about it. Ran away crying. Now that I think of it, someone, the nannies, someone must have suspected something. But if they did, nobody did anything. 

Erasmus: What happened then?

Andrew: She’d have more bruises. She’d wince if I hugged her. Then... one day. One day... I had left my tennis racket in the Green Room. 

Erasmus: At the Cottage?

Andrew: Yes. It’s where Alma was having her lessons before we moved to Zonneminster permanently. And I had left my tennis racket there. So I ran in and... gods.

Erasmus: The tutor he was... hurting Alma?

Andrew: No… at least, not like that if that’s what you mean. They never found any evidence of that. No. He was dragging her, by her arm, a tiny 8-year-old, to the small adjacent room. Alma cried hysterically as he slammed the door shut, and that’s when he saw me. I ran. I ran all the way until I found my father. I dragged him into the Green Room with me. Told him everything I had seen on the way there. I don’t think he believed me at first but when he saw Alma’s red face… he. Well. That was the last we saw of Meester Keizer.

Erasmus: I... I’m so sorry Andrew. That should never have happened.

Andrew: I know. I... I never really talk about it. We never did. They simply got her a new tutor, and brushed it under the carpet, to avoid scandal. And Alma... she was never the same. She would scream at night. Nightmares. She still gets bad ones. Turns out that Meester Keizer, besides hitting her, had been locking her by herself in a room for hours every time she made a mistake or upset the man. 

Erasmus: Gods...

Andrew: And the diet… the starving, the eating disorder, it has been her coping mechanism ever since. She does better when she is happy and feels loved...but she will never be truly happy in this role. I realised that even then as I watched my mother turn from the person I'd known into the Queen she became. I remember begging our parents to have another baby, to have another girl so that Alma wouldn’t have to do it. I promised her that I would keep her safe. A bloody great job I’ve been doing at that.

Erasmus: Your parents and family should have been there. 

Andrew: They... That’s not how this family is, Erasmus, which is something you should consider if you’re serious with my sister and would join us. The crown overshadows everything. It comes before anything else. Your suffering is meaningless next to it. But I fear that Alma is losing her battle with it. Sometimes I wonder if we should just let those anti-monarchists have their way. At least then Alma could have some peace.

Erasmus: You know that wouldn’t solve anything. 

Andrew: I know. Gods, Erasmus, I do hope that you are serious and here to help her carry the burden. She can’t do it alone much longer.

Previous - Next

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | Chapter 1

pairings: kim seokjin x reader; jeon jungkook x reader

series rating: R (18+) | genre: historical drama au!; king seokjin! au; established relationship! au; royalty! au!; 

warnings: non-graphic mentions of an abuse by Y/N’s stepmama; mentions of death; ANGST; horny ass jinnie and y/n; groping; unprotected sex bc condoms werent invented yet; fingering; edging if ya squint; impregnation kink; voyeurism; oral m and f receiving; slight degradation; good god i have never written this much filth in my life, brb gotta go to church;

word count:  6.3k

g/n: hEY HEY HEY BACK WITH THE SMUT YALL; anywho a few disclaimers before u read this sweetie, YES, its Jung Jungkook for a reason, you’ll see soon enough ;) also,,,, there might be a few korean words thrown in there but ya know context clues or u could search them up too if u want,,,, but i’ll also be placing them at the end of this post for ya <3 P.S. this is also going to turn into a series y’aLLLL GAHHHH

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 1

It’s with Seokjin’s relentless pounding from behind you that you figure that the council meeting probably didn’t go well today. You’ve discovered that times of intimacies like these were a way to relieve himself of the stresses of being a newly pronounced king. Not that you were complaining though.

His fingers find your clit with practiced ease, rubbing at sensitive nub with great fervor. Seokjin’s punishing thrusts become slower as you both reached your highs, his cock falling limp shortly after he pulls out of you. Reaching over to the nearby table, he grabs a towel and dips it on the bowl of water, wiping away traces of his climax between your thighs. He pulls up his pants previously bunched in his ankles and arranges the rest of his durumagi, removing any possible evidence of your quick fuck.

“Council meeting went bad?” you asked, rubbing at your numbing forearms due to your husband’s forceful movements against the table he’d fucked you against. Seokjin briefly throws a sheepish look your way, guessing  you have finally figured out his nasty antics of de-stressing, but his beautiful face turns serious as he once again reminded of his responsibilities as king.

“Well with Minseok’s recent death, the dried-up lands in the far east, and an uprising rebellion in the south, I can’t say the meeting went particularly…peaceful,” Seokjin heaves a sigh and rests his hands on his knees.

Minseok was a trusted royal guard, serving Seokjin’s family for nearly all his life and had perished due to an attack during a visit to the southern city. While Minseok’s death caused a great loss in the palace, his blood symbolized the initial step towards an uprising, spurring on the southern troops even further.

With your back facing him, you felt remorseful as your hand subconsciously reaches for the south’s emblem given by your father, hidden beneath the thick collar of your hanbok – a harsh reminder that you were once from the southern palace – and yet you couldn’t do anything to help your king.

It was one thing being only half royalty and another being the only heir to the throne. After multiple tries, prayer movements, and endless offerings, the real queen of the south proved to be infertile and could not bear a child for the king. In the past however, a childless monarch proved to be an advantage to those who attempted to overthrow the throne. Hence your biological father, the king, decided that he needed to have an heir at once. However, the only other lady your dad would trust with such great feat is the head court lady, your mom, who became the king’s only concubine – ergo, your coming into this world.

Your father acknowledged you as his daughter the moment he heard your first cry as a newborn, much to the queen’s repressed opposition. She knew she had no other choice but to give in to your father’s recognition, but her display of hatred for you never stopped at your birth. Your life was an endless tale of narrow escapes from her atrocities.

On the bright side, you maintained a healthy relationship with your father, he taught you how to read and write, he showed you the ins and outs of the city, gave you your first archery lesson, and even taught you a thing or two about politics and diplomacy. You were well-founded for a girl your age, considering that women in your society were only perceived to be bearers of children and raisers of the young instead of hitting sack targets on a moving horse and being deployed on diplomatic affairs.

Life was almost perfect if it weren’t for your very promising antagonist of stepmother. The rest of the palace, your father included, regarded her as your stepmother, but she never came close to being a motherly figure in your life. Quite frankly, you knew she wanted you dead even before you grew a heart – probably the only reason why she wasn’t blessed with a child. The two-headed snake deserved it.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the only victim of her cruelty. As you grew up, you knew she was bound to get worse, it didn’t come as much of a shock when you heard of her plans to murder your father and your biological mother. What you didn’t expect though that the breakfast you’d shared with your father that morning was the last time you’ll ever see him.

You fled from the palace that night, bumping into Seokjin as you exited the gates of the palace. He recognizes your face from previous council meetings and have been acquainted with each other as members of royalty, but he’s never seen you in such a state of distress. Before he could ask you why you were running away from the palace at such hour, you mounted his horse and pleaded to him to take you anywhere else but your home – your previous home.

One look at your tear-stained face was all he needed and he turned his horse around, despite questioning looks he got from his guards. He had brought you back to the capital and took you in the palace. Soon friends turned to lovers and the rest is history.

Seokjin notices your silence and he’s come up from the edge of the bed to envelop you in his arms. “A frown isn’t fitting for a queen,” he takes your chin between his fingers and turns your face towards him. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks, confused by the frown drawn upon your face.

“I just…” you start off, but when your fingers find the cold metal of the necklace, you fall silent again. Seokjin sighs as he finally catches on your despondence and gives you a tighter hug and a fleeting kiss on the forehead.

For once in a long time, you felt like it was just the two of you again alone in the room, alone in the world. Just two lovers, no treacherous stepmothers, no responsibilities, no nation to take care of. Your mind races back to the memories of you sneaking out of the palace to your agreed rendezvous or walking to your secret garden to talk about your daily endeavors. Seokjin made this cruel world more bearable and you will always be eternally grateful for that. He would always shower you with the greatest support and understanding, fully aware of what you have been deprived of during your childhood.

Seokjin on one hand feels equally thankful to have you enter his life, to have you as his wife. He had always admired your knowledge in various things and he frequently shows fondness for your wit in a very remarkable way – like that one time he had brought you to a council meeting to share your ideas (a taboo in the culture – seeing as women weren’t cut in making political decisions) and called an advisor an imbecile for suggesting a huge increase in taxes when a fourth of the city was struggling with famine. Needless to say, Seokjin found the sight of you standing up to his advisors more than arousing so he had sent everyone home at once and two minutes after everyone had left, he already had you bent over his desk, fucking you into oblivion.

Your husband leaves shortly after taking a few scrolls from the shelves before inviting you to dinner, winking as he leaves your room, telling you that he has specially requested the kitchen to cook your favorite dish for dinner tonight. You take a bath during your husband’s absence, indulging yourself in a milk bath, while the servants scrub at your back and arms. As a child, the southern palace only afforded you cold baths with the heat in the south constantly unbearable but mainly because the queen was adamant on treating you badly. She’d made sure you regularly bathe in cold ones, even worse during the winter. You couldn’t keep count of the times you had to be rescued back to life by the court ladies after nearly shivering to death.

The servants take their leave as they’ve scrubbed most of the expanse of skin you’ve exposed for them to exfoliate and you sink further into the pool, a variety of petals floating around and about as you create ripples with your hands.

“My Queen,” a court lady bows her head as she enters your chambers. “The King requests your presence for the inauguration of the new king’s guards,” she informs, not meeting your eyes as you wear your undergarments. You give her a hum of approval and wait for the servants to finish braiding your hair so you could accompany your husband during the ceremony.

You can feel the pebbles under your shoes move with the steady beat of the drums. The inauguration was supposed to be held a few more months later but because of the death of Minseok, the ceremony had to be moved to an earlier date. You were about to turn the corner when the someone in torn, ragged clothes ran in front of you, your guards ushering you backwards to protection. With two watchmen already following the man, two from your group follow to see what the scurry is all about.

The remaining guards that are with you lead you towards the field quickly to evade any further commotion. When you reach where Seokjin is situated, he acknowledges you briefly, worry swimming in his eyes. You place a comforting hand on his to assure him that there is nothing to be worried about. Once you have settled in your seat, a guard comes up to Seokjin’s side and the drums stop. “Your Royal Highnesses, King Seokjin and the Queen.” Your husband raises a hand to acknowledge the crowd surrounding the field, all present to witness the ceremony.

“Let the inauguration of the new royal guards begin.”

The drums fall into a steady rhythm once again, men clad in red and white silk uniforms pile in groups of twenty. Applause falls within the crowd, hands busy clapping for the newly inducted protectors of the palace. You see a few girls displaying themselves by the corner where the guards enter the field. They mask their flirtatious looks under the guise of modesty, covering their powdered faces with fans while sending coquettish looks to the guards.

Seokjin lets out a chuckle when he follows your line of vision and you reply deftly “I don’t blame them. I’d definitely do the same when you’re in your uniform.” You try your best not to wink at your husband especially at a public gathering like this, but your witty effort to get him to stop judging you has proved to be effective. You know he is most likely going to punish you about this tonight and the idea already has you squirming in your seat.

“My King, may I present to you the new captain of the royal guards, Jung Jungkook of the east.” A man from the first row steps forward. “My King, my Queen.” He acknowledges your presence, bowing from the waist. Jung Jungkook drops to the ground, his weight resting on one leg. He draws his sword, plunges it to the ground – the sound of metal slicing through the soil ringing throughout the field. “I am Jung Jungkook from the Jung clan of the east. My father has served the royal family for many years and has perished terribly during the attack of the South. I am here to restore the honor to my family by serving your highness, to serve the capital, and to avenge my late father.” His head is hung low, yet he is breathing heavily, the weight of his emotions too heavy on his shoulders.

Seokjin leans forward, “Your father has fought well and there is no greater honor than to die for the safety of your countrymen. I am glad he has a son to continue the legacy of your family. Stand, Jung Jungkook, for I know your father’s soul is now at peace.” The man complies and speaks, “Long live King Seokjin, long live the capital!” The rest of the two hundred men follow suit. The citizens join in on the cheering but your eyes linger on the new captain and the faded scar on his left cheek.

The turmoil in the south has worsened during the past few weeks. You rarely see your husband nowadays, constantly trapped for hours on end inside the four walls of his office. You can feel the pressure of being the king taking its toll on him. The servants tell you that he barely touches his food and that your husband also always comes in late at night and leaves early at dawn to work. It’s bringing you great worry that Seokjin couldn’t properly take care of himself nowadays.  

Your attempts to aide him during these stressful times prove to be futile, especially with his damned advisors who keep on barring you from entering his office or attending the council meetings. It is believed anyways that the queen only tends to matters of the royal household and that women have no right to give counsel. Unfortunately for them, you are no ordinary queen nor are you just a queen. You are also the wife of your beloved husband and a handful of stubborn councilmen has never stopped you before.

While the royal advisors are busy wasting too much time on a singular issue, you went out on your own to witness the effects of the famine of the east. Most of the crops that were delivered throughout the country was produced in the east because of their healthy soil and the waters surrounding the city. When a month has passed and there were still no signs of rain in the east, you know this was going to cause a huge problem and eventually another predicament for Seokjin. You had lived long enough in the onerous south to witness problems like this turn into bigger ones.

You have made arrangements to visit the city and so far, your plan going smoothly as planned. You manage to sneak out of the royal seamstress’ room after paying her a decent amount of silver coins for a commoner’s dress. It’s getting late and your husband will be returning to your room soon so you trudge back a little faster just to make it in time. When you reach the back door to your room, you see two guards lounging stand up abruptly at your presence. “M-my q-queen,” he bows, not meeting your eyes. “It’s alright. Just don’t tell anybody.”

Seokjin enters the room just when you’re stood in front of the mirror, hands removing the pins from your head. He slides the wooden door gently and sends you a small smile through the reflection on your mirror. “Why don’t I help you with that?” You gently decline his offer, not wanting to bother your exhausted king with any more chores. It’s unfair how he is still impeccably handsome even with the weariness evident on his face. Seokjin still insists though, claiming that a king’s functions should not be an excuse to escape those of a husband’s. “And besides, I ought to know how to do this if we’ll have a daughter in the future.” The statement was supposed to be a genuine shot at what the future might hold but your body’s treacherous response is far from the innocence of Seokjin’s statement.

Just the thought of it has heat pooling in your abdomen. You haven’t had enough time in your hands to spend time to think about things like that, Seokjin being a newly-crowned king, more so as a newly-wedded couple.

Your husband notices the deep breath you take, his eyes slowly getting darker by the second. He takes the last golden pin from your braids, letting your hair fall into loose waves. You feel relieved when the strain on your scalp melts away in seconds – something that you should’ve been used to by now, considering that you have been royalty all your life, but nothing beats that fresh wave of relief when you free your hair from all the pins and ribbons. That’s why when Seokjin cards his fingers through your locks, you feel the rising of the small hairs at the back of your neck, such mundane action bordering on sensual.

He does this a few more times in silence, just combing through your hair gently, deeming that seeing you fall into such comfort like this is enough for him. His chaste intentions though are all thrown aside when you lean against him, your undone hanbok falls from your shoulder, exposing the skin there in all its glory. Your husband takes all your hair and transfers it on your left shoulder and you tilt your head to the same side, giving him space where he could pepper all his kisses on.

He murmurs sweet nothings against your skin while sending fleeting kisses from your ear’s helix, to your cheek, you jawline then down to your shoulders. “Little you and me running around…” he murmurs while pushing the rest of your hanbok off your body. It doesn’t take much effort, the silken cloth sliding down easily and now you’re just left in your undergarments.

“Would you like that, my queen?” Seokjin asks, fingers thumbing the ribbon that’s keeping together the last layer of clothing you have on. It takes only one breathy ‘yes’ from you and the cloth covering your intimacies falls altogether, leaving no trace of modesty.

He cups both breasts in each palm, squeezing and kneading the flesh. Your nipples are firm, already hardened by the worshipping kisses he places all over. He trails a finger along your jaw, turning your face toward him. His lips meet yours, plump lips pressing gently against your own. When you figure he’s about to pull away, he grips your ass and you gasp, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, your heart thudding hard against your ribcage. It’s been too long since you had seen your husband so… sensual. Usually, you’re both in a rush with the sole intent of getting some release but tonight, it seems as if Seokjin is determined to take his time in claiming all of you in the most intimate of ways, slowly but surely like it’s the last night of his life.

Seokjin savors every moan, every whimper as his deft fingers roam your body. He loves every curve and dip; how soft and taut it is at the same time. The milk baths you’ve always indulged in and your younger days of archery and horse riding had definitely done you good. He tries to etch them all into his memory though he knows flashes of images of you in his brain could never give justice to the reality of having you in his arms.

His fingers reach your cunt and he cups it, making you lean further against him for support. You feel the fine sheen of sweat of his torso on his back and for a moment you wonder how he’s managed to take his to take his top off without taking a hand off you. He pulls you away from your thoughts when he tugs you closer to him, shamelessly grinding his erection against your ass. He finds your clit easily through memory, rubbing the sensitive nub, fingers moving slowly in circular motions.

“S-seokjin please,” you beg, knowing you’re nearly there but still so far away, far too greedy to orgasm on clitoral stimulation alone. You needed him inside you. Now. “Speak up, my love,” he orders, shallowly dipping a finger in your cunt and withdrawing it just as quick. “Please. Y-you. Need y- “You’re rendered breathless by his teasing, your hand traveling to tug at his hair. “You want me to put a baby in you, hmm?” He finally pushes a finger in. “You’d love that don’t you? Having to carry the next heir to the throne inside you?” Another finger breaches you, Seokjin chuckling when you let out a loud gasp.

He nips at the shell of your ear, reminding you of the presence of the guards outside in a low whisper. Your hand instantly moves to cover your mouth but Seokjin grabs you by the wrists. “Who told you to cover your mouth, hmm? We both know you want the whole palace to hear how filthy their queen is.” Seokjin must admit, the whole idea is just as pleasing to him as it is to you. You were practically squelching when his fingers quicken the pace, your orgasm coming to you at breakneck speed. The feeling of his fingers toying with your cunt too much for you to handle that you are unable to stop your lover’s name fall like a prayer on your lips. Your whole body trembles in his grip, legs threatening to give in. A whimper escapes you when he pulls his fingers out, sending him a glare through the mirror. You were so, so close.

“My love, as much as I enjoy seeing you wrecked under my touch through the mirror, we have to take this to the bed.” He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek and tugs at your arm, but you stand your ground. You wag a finger at him, ‘tsk’-ing at his impatience. Not until he’d have a taste of his own medicine.

You let your finger trail along his torso, tracing the outlines of his abdominals. Imitating your husband’s  earlier torturous ministrations, you take your time with him, reveling in how much you’ve affected him – how his breathing is getting more labored by the second. You run a finger along the length of his shaft still covered by his pants. He’s already hard, you reckon, feeling it slightly twitch under your touch.

Slowly, you lower down on your knees, tugging his pants down along with your descent. The sight of his cock makes you wet your lips, too eager to please. “My love, you don’t have to,” his hands hover yours that are resting on his hips. It’s not that he didn’t want your mouth on his cock but he just wanted to drawl out this evening for as long as he could. Frankly, he couldn’t afford to release in your mouth without having felt your velvety walls first.

“I want to.” Not wanting to wait any longer, you tentatively place a kiss on the bulbous head, making Seokjin gasp at the contact. You get bolder, gathering some of the precum that has gathered on the tip spreading it along his length your tongue. Using the armrests as leverage, you straighten your back and finally take him in your mouth. Seokjin deems he’ll never get used to this feeling. You vaguely hear him groan above you, but you’re far too busy pushing his shaft farther inside.

You briefly gaze at him through your eyelashes. It’s unfair, you reckon, that even when your lamps cast this golden glow to only one side of his face, he’s just as ethereal as under the light of day. You take him in your mouth as far as you can. When Seokjin throws his head back in pleasure with his wonderfully thick neck on display only for you to see, it ignites a carnal desire in you, so you push yourself further. When he finally hits the back of your throat, you swallow and your husband chokes on air, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto the armrests.

It’s an arduous task, having to try and take control of your breathing as you pleasure your husband. You move up then down slowly until you find a steady rhythm. You feel your eyes water with the pace until his chest starts heaving and you know he’s nearing his climax. “N-no. P-please,” your husband pleads, each word brokenly spoken. Tugging at your hair slightly, he pries you off his mouth, releasing a sigh of relief when you take your mouth off him.

“Bed now.” With your knees still sore from kneeling too long, it takes you some time to get up. Impatiently, the moment you get one of your knees off the ground he hooks his arm below them and lifts you off the ground, carrying you bridal style. “Stop trying to stall.” Seokjin huffs, his lips forming a pout. You giggle at his cuteness, of course even at a time like this, he manages to make you smile like a kid with candy.

He lays you gently on the bed, your hair fanning out on the pillows. He caresses your face with the pads of his fingers and you find yourself leaning against his touch. “My queen,” he sighs, “Your beauty is unrivaled. Truly.” Your lips meet when he closes the distance between the two of you. He stays like that for a moment, his swollen lips placed on top of yours until he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip. You fervently kiss each other, feeling yourself slowly getting lost in the kiss. When he pulls away, your eyes pry open again only to see your husband’s teary ones.

“Seokjin-ie, are you okay? What’s the matter?” He shakes his head, replying, “You’re just so beautiful. I’m the luckiest man alive to have you as my wife.” Your face crumples at his words and you give him another kiss. “How could you possibly think that when so many other women who vying for my position right now? Both literally and figuratively. You’re glad when you get a chuckle out of Seokjin. “As much as I want to argue about who’s the luckier one, I have a more pressing problem. And it’s getting really painful, so please…” His lips close in on one of your breasts, your hand flying up to pull at his hair.

Once again, you’re a moaning mess beneath Seokjin. You’re whining, begging for more than the assault he’s doing on your breasts. He doesn’t waste time in complying with your whims, your legs spreading apart when he shifts his position above you. He braces himself on one arm and you hiss as he swipes against your folds, taking some of the wetness on his palm and rubbing it onto his cock. When he pushes slowly against your entrance, you whimper as he gradually sinks into you. Gods, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to this, to him.

When he’s fully sank into you to the hilt, he pauses, knowing that you’ll need a moment for the pain to subside into pleasure. Seokjin places kisses your shoulders as he waits for you to adjust to the feeling. You push your hips up, encouraging him to move. Dragging his cock out slowly, he pushes back down just as languidly. “Jin, please,” you beseech, goading him to go faster. The moment the word escapes your lips, Seokjin begins pounding into you relentlessly. He hastily places a pillow under your hips to angle yours better. The next thrust he gets in has you mewling, each stroke easily rubbing up against your g-spot.

Your thighs begin quivering, every fiber of your body ablaze with each plunge of your husband’s hips. Seokjin feels your impending orgasm with your cunt beginning to pulsate against his cock, and he moves one of his hands between your thighs and starts to toy vigorously with your clit.

“Fuck!” you scream, fisting the sheets that now haphazardly dangling from the bed. Your high hits you so strong, your pussy tightening, clamping around Seokjin. His thrusts begin to stutter as you continue to milk his cock. With one final push, Seokjin cums, releasing ropes of cum inside you. He stays on top of you for a moment, too exhausted and worn out to move an inch. Also, because he wishes that this time it finally gets you pregnant, that your earlier inclination to the idea of having a baby inside you is as enthralling as it is to him.

Seokjin finally pulls out of you with a small grunt, elbows that have been holding up his weight finally give in, breathing heavily as he falls to your side.

He hadn’t meant to stay this long.

In fact, when he heard the first moan that fell from your lips, he had sent the rest of the guards to go on patrol to give you and your husband the much-needed privacy. He had intended to keep lookout from the front of the hanok. With one more corridor to clear out before leaving, he took his steps with caution, knowing that this passage was the one next to your room. The palace’s wooden walls will never be thick enough to hide the sounds of pleasure. His ears are already ringing with the faint sound of your moans but there was one section where the sweet sound was most audible. The door to your room was slightly open, the light from your lamps passing through the narrow slit.

He tries to push away the temptation, reminding himself that he has other duties to attend to… right?

Surely, the rebellious troops would have been subdued before they reach the palace…right?

Ultimately, he can’t leave with you sounding so desperate and broken…right?

He knew his resolve was breaking with every step he took nearer towards the thin beam of light.  He takes the final step with bated breath, wincing when the wood creaks under his weight. He lets out a shaky exhale when he finally peeks through the crevice. Your bed is situated right across from where he’s watching – the whole scene like a live show from a festival. He knows this is wrong, that what happens inside the four walls of your chambers is none of his business but when he sees the king flip you and take you from behind, his lips part, suddenly out of breath like he’s the one pounding into you.  

The voyeur continues to watch the whole spectacle with an unrelenting gaze. He watches the unsuspecting royals get lost in their own world while he lingers in perverse amusement. The strain in his silk pants is getting painful, uncomfortable too when the tip of his cock brushes against the wet patch on the cloth. He reproaches himself for his lack of manners tonight but if this mischief shall reward him with a release later on, then he shall remain here, unperturbed.

Moments later Seokjin’s hips stutter and he feels his own hands lose rhythm as well. Your loud moans fill the room as you reach your high, your husband following. His hand moves faster than before, white spurts of cum coating his hand not long after. He shivers when he pulls his pants back up, the silk proving to be too much for the sensitive tip of his cock. When his eyes revert back to the crevice, he sees Seokjin trace patterns on your back while the both of you murmur softly in each other’s arms. Your husband gives you a chaste kiss, lips closing in on the shell on your ear as he whispers something that makes you giggle. He takes this as his cue to leave, hoping that no other guard has lingered around long enough to see him leave the house.

Fortunately, no one sees the dazed captain walk out of the hanok in the middle of the night.

You are momentarily awakened from a fleeting kiss placed on your cheek, the back of your hands rubbing at your drooping eyelids. Body still sore from your activities last night, you blindly reach out for the blue cloak in front of you as you call out your husband’s name. “I hadn’t meant to wake you from your slumber, my love. Go back to sleep.” He strokes your hair gently while humming a soft melody to lull you back to your slumber.

There’s an ache on his chest when he watches sleep take over you once more, soft snores escaping your lips. Seokjin wonders if he would get to see you this peaceful one more time. You shift in your sleep, the blanket revealing purplish marks littered across your chest. Normally, this would’ve sent all his blood pumping south but with the emotion weighing on his shoulders, all he’s thinking about is engraving your beauty into his memory.

The present disposition in his hands had monopolized his time and because of this he knew he had been neglecting you these past few weeks. He wasn’t able to check up on you, ask how your day went, or even join supper, hence your intimacies last night.  Although your husband knew that after all these years together, you were never one to demand affection because you were well aware of his duties as ruler of a nation. Funnily enough, it was he who yearned for that most of time, while you would remind him of his obligations with a chortling intonation.

Usually, you would push him away when he tries to lavish you with kisses even with the guards and court ladies present, but he knew deep inside that you secretly enjoyed them, cheeks turning a rosy red every time he teases you about it. Albeit being born into royalty, you were treated like a slave by your own step-mother so Seokjin knew it would have taken some time before he had successfully lured you out of your shell. And he knew he had forever to show you the love that you were deprived of. Or did he now?

He recalls the time you had both met in your secret rendezvous. It was a garden exhibiting the most gorgeous fusion of pink and green, cultivated to perfection by Seokjin himself and of course with the help of a few chosen gardeners. Included in the garden was a narrow passage with water directly flowing from the Gaeun River. The secluded site was a testament to Seokjin’s love for the color pink. Flowers of all shades of blush are scattered among the lush green grass, from Azaleas to Carnations to Peonies. ‘Most are from foreign lands’ he informs, carefully plucking out a flower and handing one to you. A blush instantly colors your cheeks at this and Seokjin finds it most endearing, unable to resist teasing you. “You seem to blend in just fine with my flowers,” he observes, poking your cheeks, “but you stand out the most.”

Amongst the rosy hued shrubs and mossy rocks, on a small slope stood a singular cherry blossom tree - your most favorite feature of all. Cherry blossoms had always been known to symbolize the transience of life and rebirth. True to your ancestors’ beliefs, this special tree was tangible proof of the metaphor. The tree had witnessed quite a number of your most cherished moments in life. This was where Seokjin brought you when you broke down into tears after escaping the southern palace, this was where he first pecked you on the cheek, and this same tree witnessed Seokjin’s humble request for your hand in marriage.

Regret weighs heavily on him. You were the only constant reality he had in this capricious life. You had been nothing but perfect, always by his side no matter what. Having to bid his farewell like this broke his heart but if he properly did so, it would probably break his heart all the more. Your husband had already made up his mind – he is to leave for the South before the dawn breaks.

Seokjin was hanging onto that small sliver of hope that a discussion on the dilemma may change their minds. The situation in the southern city had inevitably worsened but he had to try. He could be very persuasive if he wanted to, sure, but you always knew it wouldn’t work. Not by a long shot. You made sure to remind him of that fact. That’s why you never supported the idea of visiting the city especially at a time of agitation like this. The southerners are men honed by war and they are not called the nation’s keepers for nothing. They are willing to sacrifice lives rather than heed diplomacy. It had proved beneficial in the past when foreigners wanted to colonize your country, but with a turmoil conceived by its own countrymen, these people are all the more fueled to fight for what they believe in.

Then again, this was his decision. He had to try. He was willing to risk everything for his nation, even if it meant that this might be the last time he’ll be seeing your face. He wanted to be selfish, just this once, to give in to the matters of the heart, but he knew he couldn’t. If he did, then all his parent’s teachings would have been for nothing. Being born into royalty couldn’t have meant anything. Being the king then would lose its meaning.

With tears brimming at the corner of his eyes, he retrieves a scroll, his brush, and an ink block. ‘This all seems unreal’, Seokjin reels. He only takes out the three when he’s making a new proclamation or with pronouncements usually related to the duties of a king. You two could only stay apart for so long and at the end of the day you’d always find yourselves each other’s arms. Not once did he imagine having to write you a letter, let alone one bidding you farewell.

Patches of tears soften different spots on the previously coarse scroll. With dawn fast approaching, Seokjin ends his letter with a lingering kiss on the paper. He retrieves a flower that he’s plucked from the garden and places it together with the scroll he’s left on the bedside table. Seokjin kisses you on the cheek one last time, “Goodbye, my queen.”

© joontier 2020. All rights reserved. 

[kyloren]

i was never really into the jonsa ship, but that post of yours has got me really interested... do you have any fave fics of them??

welp, we’re going old-school, lads. prepare for some of my favourite fandom throwbacks well, I failed at that, I put some of the newer things on the list, too

CANON-VERSE:

Now You See Me: Kissed by fire, Ygritte thought to herself, just like me. 

Goodbye Means Going Away (And Going Away Means Forgetting): Memory is unreliable. No one understands this better than Rickon Stark.

Take My Crown Away (Don’t Smile So Sweetly, My Love): A world where everything is easier. Except for those who love, and love too much.

Build a Ladder to the Stars: Jon abandons the Night’s Watch to join Robb’s cause. After rescuing Sansa from King’s Landing, he and Sansa find themselves in a relationship they never saw coming.

A Winter’s Tale: The War of Three Dragons comes to the Vale, bringing Jon Snow and Sansa Stark together once more.

The Winter of Our Discontent: In the end it is Jon and his men of the Night’s Watch who come to take her back to Winterfell.

tell me true (who are you): Ned Stark brought a dark-haired, grey-eyed bastard babe home and called him son. Years later, Jon Targaryen does the same.

Lift Me Like an Olive Branch and Be My Homeward Dove: She never dreams of Jon Snow but in the end he is the one that comes for her under a Targaryen banner, the might of Winterfell and the North behind him with their father’s sword on his back.

The Whispering Ghosts (Left You Out In The Cold): Winter came and brought Jon home. [this is the first Jonsa fic I ever read, boy, did it fuck me up]

A Bronze Crown: In the end there are no knights. In the end Sansa must rescue herself. Based on the prompt: he doesn’t ride to her rescue; she comes north with her granduncle and the armies of the Vale to wage war on the Boltons, save his life and teach his assassins and the Boltons a sharp lesson.

how ruthless are the gentle*: “Yes, I do.” The easiest lie he’s ever told, by far. It came so naturally, he hardly thought of it as false. “She’s easy to love.”

Tell the Ones That Need to Know (We Are Headed North)*: After years of confinement in the Red Keep with Ned prisoner in the black cells, the Dragon Queen comes. With the knowledge that Jon Snow is actually a Targaryen, she agrees to let the Starks return to Winterfell only if Jon marries one of the Stark daughters. Sansa volunteers so they can all go home. Soon she figures out being married to Jon isn’t bad, but it is complicated.

Cripples, Bastards and Broken Things*: We know no King, but the King in the North whose name is Stark. 

Dragons of Red, Dragons of White*: An AU where the Battle of the Trident took place, but just between Rhaegar Targaryen and Robert Baratheon. Their duel and its outcome have ramifications that none could foresee. In the world built afterwards, dragons once again rule and roam Westeros, among them the son of a northern beauty and the king. Prince Jon and his kin, Stark and Targaryen alike, face new challenges from both without and within. Whatever the future holds, the Seven Kingdoms will learn that, whether in a coat of red or a coat of white, a dragon still has claws.

A Knight’s Watch: Jon Snow is forbidden to take the black by his father. Instead he sent to squire for a famous knight, beginning a long arduous journey that causes him to cross paths with characters he never would have. Along the way he learns truths long hidden and discovers love in the most unlikely of places.

The Conquest*: Three hundred years after Aegon the Conqueror built a new empire on the ashes of the Valyrian Freehold the known world is a place of war. The Targaryen Empire is pressed by enemies, the Seven Kingdoms war amongst themselves and forces contrive to pull them all apart.

Live Without Shame: When Catelyn’s treatment of Winterfell’s Bastard unexpectedly softens, Sansa reconsiders her relationship with Jon. But despite the revelations that ensue, Jon must and will always remain Winterfell’s Bastard and suffer its consequences.

The Tempered Kingdoms*:  After years of wars, death, destruction, politics, and White Walkers, a tentative calm has returned to Westeros partially due to the rulership of King Jon and Queen Daenerys. But politics rues its head again as Stannis Baratheon demands his right to rule, while the former Queen Cersei languishes in a cell, plotting her revenge against all who live above her. Sansa Stark is forced to return to King’s Landing after being found by the rumored lovers Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth.

winterbloom: “You’ve traveled a long way for a rumor.” Sansa lives at the Wall under the protection of her brother Jon Snow, but when Sandor Clegane comes looking for her, she and Jon begin to realize that she is not as safe as they once hoped.

As History Changes: Jon agrees to accompany Stannis south to the Vale and he meets a person he did not expect to meet.

hold onto your heart (you’ll keep it safe): When Sansa turns eleven her wrist burns. She excitedly unwraps the cloth guarding her skin, waiting eagerly for the name to finish forming. The dark letters stop after only three and when Sansa leans in closer she realises that she knows that name and she knows that handwriting already.

carve your heart into mine: Sansa spent many evenings sewing her wedding dress by the fire, dreaming of her husband. The gown spilled out of her hands like a silver river, burning brighter from the light of the flames. She had embroidered it with a noble husband in mind, but she wed her lowborn love in the godswood, with snowflakes falling on her veil. 

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE:

Into the Darkness of the Grave: The tragic death of Eddard Stark’s cousin Lyanna brings her estranged son back to Winterfell House, the family’s old plantation home, for her funeral.

The Other Shoe: If anyone had told Sansa Stark that she would be married to Jon Snow, expecting a child with him at the age of nineteen she would have laughed at them. Not because Jon was a bad person, for he had slowly come out of his shell in the past seven years; not because she was young, her parents were married right out of Hogwarts; simply because Sansa Stark seemed to be the anthesis of a happy ending.

several sunlit days: Everyone knows you don’t date Robb Stark’s sisters unless you want to spend your days avoiding hexes and angry bludgers shot at your head. Too bad Jon’s traitorous feelings could care less.

the unexpected champion: Jon must swim to The Black Lake and retrieve something *cough* Sansa *cough* stolen from him. This task makes him realize who he should invite to the Yule Ball.

Where Did You Sleep Last Night: Sansa needs a new guitarist, Jon needs a new band, and the two of them definitely don’t need each other.

and labor till the work is done: Stark Industries is a family legacy she was hoping to avoid: Robb is a project manager, grooming to eventually be a partner, Arya is a summer intern with Bran sure to follow next year and Rickon in another three, and even Jon Snow, who is technically not family but who has been around for as long as Sansa can remember, works as an estimator. But Sansa is not who she was at sixteen or eighteen or even twenty and she’s still in the process of learning what’s truly important, like who she is, who she wants to be, and what kind of people she wants in her life.

One Of The Few Things: Jaime and Sansa spend a lot of time pining over Brienne and Jon together. Sometimes, they actually even do their jobs.

flower shaped heart*: Alayne Stone has lived her whole life in her hidden tower, forbidden by Mother to leave. But she yearns for an adventure like the ones in the songs, so when a man named Jon Snow crashes into her tower and into her life, she seizes the chance. They travel to King’s Landing where the floating lanterns shine each year on her nameday. The new world is exciting and frightening, but Jon Snow is there to guide her every step. He is not nearly as terrible as Mother said men are, though the rest of the world might be. Danger, betrayals, and lies form the steps of their journey as Alayne uncovers terrible secrets.

Crawl up to my Room: Jon left her side after a few moments of silence and she watched him leave with a quiet thought playing in her mind. He was her stepbrother for only a few hours, and she already found herself utterly fascinated and irritated with Jon Stark. 

in the summer, as the lilacs bloom: “You did tech in high school,” Sansa points out. (Yeah, I did tech because you were playing the lead and I was in love with you.) Jon doesn’t tell her that, though. Of course not. Instead he agrees to spend his summer stage managing this passion project of hers, and some trace of his seventeen-year-old self has dried out his throat at the thought of three months’ constant contact with Sansa.

Down from the Mountain: Sansa flies home from college after her older brother Robb, one of the country’s hottest young pitchers, is hurt in a car accident. Robb’s best friend Jon is there to help the Stark family in any way he can.

Little Bed in the Big Woods: “I stared at him for a solid five minutes because he looked like what I imagine god would look like if god was a lumberjack.”

A Game of Stars*: When the Mad Emperor hears that the Starks are Force-sensitive, he discovers the hidden rebel base on Hoth. He sends Jon there with one order: Burn them all. But bring the Stark children to Coruscant. It’s time for the two most powerful Force bloodlines in the galaxy to merge.

I’ll Pack My Goods for the Arkansas Woods*: When Sansa’s brother goes missing, it falls to her to defend the house and the woods against the greed of the Boltons and Freys. All of this would be much easier if she could fight fire with fire, and there’s a saying in the valley: that all the Starks are a little wild, and all the Targaryens are a little mad. Her cousin Jon just happens to be both.

In the Face of Death: On a long list of things Jon never expected, Sansa came top.

United States of Irreversible Oblivion: With the government losing its fight at the northern border, Sansa’s only hope is that one of its soldiers, Office Jon Snow, will return for her and save her from the horrors of a collapsing society.

remember me love when i’m reborn: ‘Longest Night’ has biggest night in hollywood history. “Joffrey wanted someone to make him famous, and as soon as Sansa wrote a movie for him that did just that, he left her in the dirt.”

Hear the Wolf*: The Starks are in Hogwarts. Sansa has to learn to stand up to her ex-boyfriend and Jon has to learn to face his past. They’re determined to do it alone. Will they ever admit they’re stronger together?

Somewhere in the Winter Woods*: Lost on her way to her grandmother’s cabin in the winter woods after running away from home, beautiful young Sansa thinks she’s run into trouble when she crosses a white wolf in the forest. Instead of harming her, the animal guides her to his master, a handsome warrior named Jon who lives in solitude and clothes himself in black.

* marks the ongoing stories. 

[only--you]

❥ ♡

The Baptist ✰

-·=»‡«=·- 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 7 -·=»‡«=·-

Warnings/ Blood, Violence, strong language, substance abuse, choking, needles, insinuated sexual references, and potential smut. Viewer discretion advised.

A/N - Heyy!! I’m back with chapter seven! Just want to give a, heavy content warning, I know they’re listed above but this chapter includes choking and even smut...yes, I finally wrote some smut for this story, ha! I’d also like to say that I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to get this chapter posted but I’m glad to be back. I’ve officially graduated high school (since may-june, I was homeschooled) so now I have lots and lots of free time so expect more chapters soon! One more thing, I posted a masterlist which can be found in my bio and I also have it pinned to my profile. Okay, I hope you enjoy this lengthy chapter! <<33

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

★·.·´¯`·.·★ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ★·.·´¯`·.·★

Delaney finally found out that while she was in John’s bunker, Nick’s wife Kim gave birth to their daughter, Carmina. Delaney decided that before things go any further with Sharky, she has to decide where things are going with John. Before she goes back to the bunker, she makes a pit stop to see someone special. 

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚢'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

“Hey, we can take my jeep. Once you drop me off at the bunker, you can just drive it back to my house unless John decides to send in the cavalry.” I said throwing Nick the keys and shaking my head. “It’s so fucking annoying when he does that, the bliss bullets make me feel so shitty.” I sat in the passenger seat and struggled to buckle myself because I was shaking so bad. “Hey, are you okay? Be honest.” Nick grabbed my arm and stopped me. “No...not really. I just - when I went to go arrest Joseph, I didn’t know this is how the county would turn out.” I put my head in my hands. I wasn’t crying, I was just disappointed. “Look, none of this is your fault. Nobody knew this is how it would’ve turned out. Don’t blame yourself.” Nick said as he rubbed my back. He took his hand off and started the engine. “Look on the brightside, we’re going to see Carmina right now. Don’t worry about anything peggie related until it’s time, D.” Talking stuff over with Nick, cleared my mind. We pulled up to Nick and Kim’s house, standing on the porch was Kim holding Carmina. “Oh my god! Congratulations guys. Kim, she’s gorgeous. How’re you feeling?” I said as I was rubbing Carmina’s head. “I’m doing alright! My feet hurt so bad though. Other than that, I’m so relieved she’s here.” Kim handed Carmina to Nick and pulled me in for a long hug. “Look, I know things are tough right now but I want you to know that Nick and I are always here for you. What’s going on right now isn’t your fault, remember that.” She rubbed my back. Tears rolling down my face, Kim pulled away. “Nick, why don’t you give Delaney her goddaughter, I’m sure she’s dying to hold her.” Kim said smiling sweetly at me. “Oh, she’s so small. She’s going to grow up to be an amazingly strong woman just like her mother.” I said as I was rocking Carmina back and forth. “And just like her godmother too.” Kim said smiling at me. 

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚙

As the sun sets, I realize that I still need to head back to the bunker. “I’m going to have to hand beautiful Carmina back to you, Kim. I have to head back to John’s bunker. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t sent in the-” As Kim grabs Carmina, I feel a bliss arrow shoot straight into my thigh. Suddenly, everything around me fades to black. 

𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚙

𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚢'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

As I start to wake from unconsciousness, I hear faint grunting in the background. I don’t know where I am but the last thing I remember is being with Nick and Kim meeting their daughter. She was so petite and wholesome. I’m heartbroken to know that she has to be raised in the current state of Montana. This isn’t how I wanted things to turn out. Innocent families ripped from their homes, citizens being held under their will to be converted to the cult, innocent people dying, I had no idea this would happen. My eyes are blurry but I’m now able to see where the grunting is coming from. Deputy Hudson is sitting right in front of me. Black mascara has covered her cheeks and she has duct tape over her mouth. I try yelling to her but it’s no use seeing as I have tape on my mouth as well. I start to look around and begin to realize that I’m in John’s bunker. I hear the door latch open and hear John whistling, We’ll Meet Again by Vera Lynn. He slams down a toolbox and opens it up. He removes the one storage compartment and stops. He turns around and begins to tell me a story;

“My parents were the first ones to teach me about the Power of Yes.” John turns around to the toolbox sitting behind him. He pulls out, what looks to be skin, and staples it to the wood of the table. “One night, they took me into the kitchen, and they threw me on the ground, and I experienced pain after pain after pain after pain-” He slammed down the staple gun he was holding. I winced because I had never had him act this way around me. John was usually loving and made me feel safe. He had his moments, yes, but he was never violent. At least towards me. “And when I didn’t think I could take anymore, I did.” Once again, John turns around. This time, he goes into the storage compartment he removed from the toolbox. He grabs a tattoo gun and begins to walk towards me. Hudson, behind him, starts screaming but her screams are muffled due to the tape covering her mouth. John adjusts the lamp that’s next to me and continues, “Something broke free inside. I wasn’t scared, I was-” John flicks the lamp on. “clear.” He plugs a wire into the tattoo gun. “I looked up at them and I started to laugh. All I could say was...yes.” John clicks on the tattoo gun for just moment and then immediately turns it off. “I spent my entire life looking for more things to say ‘yes’ to.” He places the tattoo gun down and popped open my shirt to reveal my chest. For a moment, he just stares...then, he continues. “I opened up every hole in my body and when those were filled, I created more.” John is now making eye contact with me. A single tear comes out of my right eye as I’ve never seen John like this before. I try talking to him but this damn duct tape is my goddamn way. He pulls away and still continues on with his lengthy story. “But it was Joseph who showed me just how selfish I was being.” Hudson is still in the background trying to shout at John. He grabs a bowl off of the table next to him and pulls out a sponge. He begins cleaning off my chest. “Always receiving. Always taking. The best gift isn’t the one you get, it’s the one you give and giving takes courage.” He finishes cleaning off my chest and places the bowl down. He begins to walk back towards the table which has the toolbox on it. “The courage to own your sin. To etch it on to your flesh and carry its burden and when you have endured -- when you have truly begin to atone -- to cut it out like a cancer and display it for all to see. Ha...my god that’s courage.” He stops and grabs a screwdriver. “I’m going to teach you courage. Teach you how to say, ‘yes’ so you can confront your weakness.” John begins pacing and speaking with more volume, clearly full of passion. “Confront your sin. You will swim across an ocean of pain and  emerge...free.” He quiets down and begins to walk towards me again, this time, pointing the screwdriver at me. “For only then can you truly begin to atone.” When he reaches me, he places the cold metal of the screwdriver onto my chest. He then, swiftly takes it off and walks back to the table. “So who wants to go first? Hm? Which one? Hmm? This is lesson number one. Someone’s got to choose.” Feeling the pressure and knowing if I don’t nod my head in agreement, John will just get angrier. I don’t want anything else happening to Hudson because who knows what she’s already been through. I nod my head and wave my bound hand at him. “Yes. YES!” I can hear Hudson screaming in disagreement as John begins to walk closer to me yet again. “You’re not going to regret this. I promise.” He points the screwdriver at me again. “Now, before we begin,” John begins to walk to Hudson and throws the screwdriver to the side. “I think it’s only proper that Deputy Hudson goes back to her room. Confessions are meant to be private, after all.” He reaches the back of Hudson’s chair and begins to roll her towards me. Screaming, Hudson makes eye contact me. We hold it for a moment and I begin to tear up. Hudson is now crying even more than she was before. “Shhh. Shhh...I am not here to take your life. I’m here to give it to you.” John straightens up and pushes the lamp out of the way that had shined on me prior. He places his hands around my neck and begins to choke me. “I’m going to open you and pour your worst fears inside and as you choke, your sins will reveal themselves.” Hudson, next to us begins shouting at John in hopes he’d let go of me. “Only then, will you truly understand the Power of Yes.” He removes his hands from my throat and continues back over to Hudson. “I’ll be right back.” John says as he wheels Hudson out of the room. 

I begin sobbing. I know John was probably doing all of this because Hudson was in the room but I’ve never felt like this before. I knew I should’ve gotten back to the bunker earlier. He probably hated the fact that I was having a good time out of the bunker, thinking I’d get too used to it and want to go out more often. Well, who wouldn’t get used to being outside after being locked in all day? 

𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

I roll Deputy Hudson down the hallway of the bunker. I feel bad for treating Delaney the way I did back there but, that’s what happens when you don’t come back to the bunker after many hours of being out. If anything, she should be lucky I didn’t do anything worse to her. I just...I know that, after that interaction, she might not feel the same way about...us anymore. I reach miss Deputy Hudson’s room and I unlatched her door. I bring her inside and shut the door so when I remove her restraints, she doesn’t try anything...funny. I go down to her feet and begin to cut off the rope. Next, I come up to her wrists and finally get the duct tape off of her mouth. “What the fuck is your deal? What are you going to do to Delaney? Don’t you hurt her anymore then that petty fucking choking you did.” She gets in my face. I slap her and push her down onto her bed. “You don’t tell me how to punish my people. What goes on in confessional, is going to be none of your business. You’ll get your fill of confession soon, don’t you worry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to get to.” I remove my hand from her face and head over to the door. I unlatch it and start back down the hallway to Delaney. I open up the door and see Delaney still in the spot that I left her. I place my hand on her shoulder and walk around to face her. I pull up a stool that’s near her and sit down. Reaching up to her face, I remove the duct tape slowly so I don’t hurt her as much. “So, I’d just like to apologize for acting different towards you. I was angry about your tardiness. I felt as though you abandoned me and I didn’t like it. I’d also like to apologize for choking you.” John said stroking my cheek and removing my wrist restraints. “Oh yeah? Well, you should’ve fucking said that instead of choking me and scrubbing me down with a sponge. I’d also like to mention, it didn’t make me feel any better knowing that Hudson was here. Has she been in the fucking bunker the whole time?!” Delaney yelled. “I don’t want to lie to you so yes, she’s been here the whole time. I’ve kept her in the lower rooms as to keep you from be able to hear her. I didn’t want to put you through that or risk other things so I didn’t tell you.” I told her as I started to cut through the rope around her ankles. 

*steamy scene approaching, btw, not just making out ;)*

𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚢'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

“Yeah, other things meaning, saving Hudson and leaving the bunker. Look, I love you, John, but choking me and having her bound in front of me, wasn’t the most amazing thing either.” I said flustered as I started pacing back and forth. “Wait...wait. Did you just- did you just say that you loved me?” John grabbed my wrist and I froze. Oh shit...I fucking did. “Yes...yes I did. What are you going to do about it?” I said yanking my arm back and crossing my arms now. John shoved me against the table that had the toolbox on it. He sat me on top and started making out with me. John began unbuttoning my shirt. “You know, you could just rip it off. It would be a lot faster.” I said in-between kisses. “No I can’t, this shirt was expensive.” John pulled away so he could accurately continue unbuttoning the shirt I was wearing. I started laughing as he continued. He then began to unbutton his shirt so I starting unbuckling his belt. I took off my unbuttoned shirt and threw it to the floor. John did the same, as well as pulling his pants down. I undid my belt and threw my pants to the ground. John came back over to me and continued to kiss me passionately. He made his way to my neck and began sucking which left hickies. “Well, if no one knew we were together, they would now.” I said through heavy breathes. “Fuck it. Who cares right?” John said while making his way to nibble on my ear. “Um...maybe Jacob or y’know, Joseph. I’m pretty sure they’d care.” I said rubbing my hand up and down John’s chest as he continued biting my ear. “Okay so, do you want me to stop? Do you want this is to be over?” John said biting my bottom lip. “No...I’m just- making a point.” I replied as I hopped off the table. I grabbed John’s hand and led him over to the chair that I was bound to prior. I shoved him down and he fell onto the seat. I wheeled the chair over to the wall that way it won’t move as much once I sit in his lap. Before I sit down on his lap, I removed my underwear and unfasten my bra. I walked over to John and started to pull down his underwear. I climbed on top of him and he placed both of his hands on my hips to help stabilize me considering we were about to have sex on a chair with wheels. John slowly began to slide his penis inside of me. I arched my back a little and gasped at how it felt going in. I let out a small moan and beginning moving my hips back and forth, slowly. John threw his head back and let out a moan of his own. I placed a hand on his throat and I ran my fingers through his hair with the other. I started picking up speed. With the hand I placed on his throat, I now grabbed his face and roughly started making out with him. John slid his tongue into my mouth and I did the same with mine. He quickly took his tongue out and threw his head back once again, this time letting out an even louder moan. I started riding him even faster and due to how passionate it was, I let out a moan, however, I moaned his name. “John...” I could feel him finish inside me, however I wasn’t done. I got off of him and laid on the floor. In this moment, I didn’t care that I was laying on freezing, dirty, concrete...I was in love. John got the idea and got down on the floor but instead of laying next me, he got on top of me. He started making out with me then slowly worked his way down to my breasts and began running his tongue along my nipples. Taking one into his mouth, he began sucking. As he did so, he slid his hand down to my vagina and began to slide two fingers in. John, however, was a smart man and knew that’s not only what I wanted so he stopped sucking on my nipples and made his way down to meet his fingers. He placed his tongue on my clit and started working. He went as fast as he could, my back arching so far off the ground. I let out plenty of loud moans, even some with his name in there. Then, I felt myself release. But, like I said, John is a smart man...he kept going. Soon enough, I had finished a second time and lastly, a third. He took his fingers out and I was lying there, unable to move a single muscle. Once I had been able to breathe, I told John, “That...was absolutely amazing.” I stretched and stood up. Barely able to walk, I sat on the swivel chair. “John, baby, can you hand me my clothes please..I’m unable to walk.” John turned to me and laughed. He walked over to wear my bra, underwear, pants, and shirt were and handed them to me. He leaned down and kissed me warmly and began dressing himself. Once he was fully clothed, he came over to me and help me out. Buckled my bra for me, buttoned up my shirt, slid on my underwear and next my pants. Then he grabbed my socks and shoes and put those on for me as well. “I love you too, Delaney. I realized just now that I didn’t say anything.” John said, leaning his hands on the chair’s armrests. “You didn’t need to say anything, I knew.” I got close to his face and left him small pecks on his lips. “Would I be able to see Hudson?” I asked John with sad eyes. John let out a sigh. 

𝚃𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚍… †

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLUrUN5CqcB87hkBtuYKM6Vs_RMpcDuwaT

[avengerscompound]

Breakfast in Bed

Breakfast in Bed: A Captain America Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  1114

Warnings:  Fluff, kids and interrupted smut.

Synopsis:   Children do really change things. They also have terrible timing.

A/N:  For my #Happy Steve Bingo Fill: Children

Breakfast in Bed

Steve Rogers had taken to sleeping in.  It wasn’t something he’d ever predicted.  Even back before he’d joined the army he was up early.  Usually for school or because he was just in so much pain that he couldn’t sleep and his mother had run him a hot bath.

Since the army, early mornings were all he had known.  Up at dawn for training. Every day, rain or shine.  It had traveled through to his life after the army. When he first got out of the ice he’d wake and pace the streets, trying to find somewhere he didn’t feel so out of place.  Or he’d just hit the gym and put all his anger into the heavy bags.

As he began to find where he belonged he ran.  First by himself. Then later with Sam. He had kept up the morning runs for so long.  He was a morning person. He enjoyed getting going. Watching the sunrise as he appreciated how easily the air was pulled into his lungs.  How he could run and run and run and not feel pain.

He was a morning person.  Was.

Then the kids happened.

He had been so fucking cocky when you first got pregnant.  He bought a jogging stroller. He was going to wake up early, take the baby for a run around Central Park with Sam come home and bring you breakfast every day.

That didn’t happen.  Not ever.

Between four hour feeds and sleepless nights, Steve just got good at sleeping when he could.  For a while, that meant he was still up early in the morning. Though he always had that half-dead, zombie feeling to being awake.  Like it was a mere technicality. He never wanted to run then that’s for sure. It was changing diapers and bouncing first Sarah, then Jamie and then Margaret on his hip while he tried to drink his own body weight in coffee in the hopes that one day his metabolism wouldn’t just burn through the caffeine, rendering it useless.  It was trying to get a baby to stop crying while he struggled to get a toddler to stay in their highchair and eat his breakfast.

The thing was, even at his most sleep deprived and stressed, he still loved it.  He had loved every moment since he’d met you. Every date. Every kiss. Every cuddle.  Every time you'd made love. From proposing to getting married to the day you'd decided to have children.

Each day of the long road it has taken to get here he'd fallen deeper in love and remembered more about who the person he was.  He had developed new aspects to himself too. Ones he really liked. So even sleep deprived and running on super serum he would have a smile on his usually serious face.

Then gradually things shifted again.  The kids got older. They slept through.  They started getting their own cereal on weekends and sitting with it watching Disney Channel together.

That's when Steve had started sleeping in.

It wasn’t every day.  There was still work and preschool and childcare and having to wrangle three children into the car so they wouldn’t be late.  Saturday’s were swimming lessons and pee wee soccer.

Sundays though… Sundays were a little bit magical.  There was no place you had to be. The kids took care of themselves.  Best of all, you slept in too. So he slept. There was a comfort of your body pressed against him.  He loved the sound of your deep breathing. The way it was the light and the far-off sound of cartoons playing in the living room that woke him up.  It was much better than the harsh buzz of his alarm going off or the pained cries of one of his children.

Today what dragged him out of his sleep was your stirring.  His arms tightened and he pulled you closer to him burying his face in the back of your neck.

“Morning,”  You mumbled and turned in his arms.

“It is a good morning,”  He rumbled. His voice still soft and gravelly with sleep.  He leaned in and kissed you. It started with a hard press of his lips on yours.  Not really intended to be anything other than a good morning kiss. You made it linger and the soft hum that escaped you made him want more.  He deepened it. His lips caressing over yours and his tongue barely teasing them open for him. He grabbed your thigh and pulled you closer, rolling his hips against you.

“Mmm…”  You hummed pulling back and sucking on his plump lower lip.  “You're playing a dangerous game, Rogers.”

“Danger is my middle name,”  He tried and rolled you over grinding down against you.  “Just be as quiet as you can.”

You giggled as he kissed you again.  Deeper and more passionate than before.  His hand roamed up under your sleep shirt and he ghosted his fingers along the underside of your breast.

He could hear moving around and giggling in the kitchen, but he wasn't concerned.  It was likely there would be a mess to clean up. Possibly they were seeing how many different spreads they could get on one piece of toast.

His mouth moved to your neck.  You made a sound that was a half moan - half laugh, and you bucked up against him.  His hands slid down to the waistband of your pajama pants and just as he slipped his fingers under the elastic he heard the muted footfalls of children running down the hall.

He rolled off you and sat up.  You only had time to look at him confused when Maggie and Jamie slammed the door open and came charging at you both, throwing their little bodies into bed and slamming against you both.

“Mommy, daddy, we maded you breakfast into bed!”  Jamie said proudly.

“Oh did you now?”  You asked.

“Yeth,”  Maggie lisped.  “Thara ith bwinging it.”

Like she had been summoned Sarah came walking into the room, each step taken at a slow careful shuffle, as she stared intently at the large tray she held in her hands like she was willing it not to spill.

“Here, Sarah.  Let me help you.”  Steve said moving to get out of the bed and rescue his oldest daughter.

“No, daddy.  I've got it.”  Sarah said. The little stubborn streak of hers fully on display.

Jamie pushed him back against the bed head and Steve shook his head, suppressing a laugh.  They were his kids alright. No one could ever argue that.

Slowly and carefully she put the tray on the bed.  Steve moved it to the middle assessing the selection.  There were two bowls of trix that had spilled over a little.  The milk pooling at the bottom of the bowls. A banana and an apple were just haphazardly thrown onto the tray.  As were a sleeve of what he could only assume was cinnamon apple Poptarts. On a small plate, each was two overcooked and now cold slices of toast with a generous schmear of grape jelly.

“Oh my, look what you guys did for us.  This looks wonderful. Thank you, my sweet ones.”  You said enthusiastically, as your eyes traveled across the tray.  They settled on the toast and you picked up a slice and took a bite.  It made a loud crunch under your teeth and partially shattered due to how hard the bread was.

“Did we do good?”  Jamie asked.

“You sure did, bud,”  Steve said picking up his spoon and dipping it in the cereal.

“You always make us breakfast we wanted to make it for you,”  Sarah said.

“I wanted to made pancaketh,”  Maggie added.

“I don't know how to,”  Sarah argued. “Besides we aren't allowed to use the stove.”

“It's perfect.”  You said.

Steve pulled Sarah up next to him and peppered her cheek with kisses.  “Thank you so much. We are very, very lucky.”

As his daughter giggled and squirmed beside him on the now very full bed, making more milk slop over the side of the bowl, Steve knew, he had never said anything truer.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

Crowley + Jo Chats

Chat #1 - After Gray goes on a killing spree, after Anna deals for Ellen's safety

*Jo hadnt rung in the body yet, considering it as she’d gotten the hell out of there and headed towards the lake side beneath the pier despite the late hour. Scrubbing at her hands, face, neck and hair to get rid of the blood, she wasn’t sure what was going to be worse - rampage Gray went on next or what Anna might pull now*

*Crowley not fully satisfied with his chat with Gray decides to make the rounds, Ellen was off the hook but her daughter was still fair game and he smiled finding her washing blood off of her. Walking heavily down the pier Crowley cheerfully called out to the hunter.* “When your done come on up Jo, we are far over due for conversation.”

*Her head jerks up at the voice, looking behind her to see Crowley standing on the pier.* “Aren’t we always? That’s what I find to be the best part of this relationship - we never talk.” *She mutters to herself as she looks about trying to decide whether its best to run or do as he says, washing the last of the died blood out of her hair*

*Crowley puts his hands behind his back watching Jo.* “A long time ago, a bathing beauty along the shoreline would have been a welcome treat but  I have other pleasures now, so do hurry up.”

*Rolling her eyes, Jo jerks on her jacket again before staring up at him. Letting out a quiet sigh, she goes to the rickety iron ladder and climbs up from the short with a scowl* “I’m quite glad to hear that, Anna I’m presuming?  What did you want, Crowley?”

“I was thinking more of Grey, Anna needs just a bit more time before she’s ready to be sampled.” *Crowley holds his hand out for Jo as she climbs up the ladder. “I’m here to give you good news.”

*Jo stops seeing his hand and at his words, scowl morphing into a glare as she doesn’t move to take his assistance or to get further up the ladder* “The good news being my mother is safe again? Yeah, Anna already told me about that little arrangement.*

*Chuckling Crowley lifts his foot, kickinng Jo back down the ladder and appearing next to her when she lands.* "Of course, did she tell you how she made that arrangement?”

*Falling back, she lets out a groan when she lands, glaring up at him* “Something about doing what you you ask of her…”

“Oh it’s more than that, she’s mine. I own her fully now.” *Crowley walks around Jo grabbing her by the back of the jacket and dragging her to her feet.* “If Anna does anything to go back on that, then I’m going to take it out of your mother’s hide. One strip of skin at a time, slowly peeled like an orange. Do we understand Jo?”

“How could I think otherwise?” *Struggling to free her jacket from him, Jo sneers back before shaking her head* “I figured as much Crowley, you don’t have to illustrate for me, I get the picture. I don’t think I’m the one you need to tell that too though, given your arrangement is with /Anna/ not me…”

*Crowley chuckles merrily as he drags Jo into the lake till they are hip deep.* “Oh but you see ever kennel needs a keeper and since you have fucked both my pets that makes you the perfect canidate.” *Shoving Jo under the Crowley holds her under a few seconds before bringing her back up.* “Think of this as your baptism into your eternal servitude to me.”

“What, wha-” *Jo tries struggling as he drags her, before the dunk down into the cold water cuts her off, water filling her mouth. Coughing when he pulls her back up, she coughs out as much as she can, still trying to pull away* “What the fuck?! I’ll do no such fucking thing. What the hell are you trying to make me do? I’m not doing anything you want me to, you jackass!”

“Oh Jo Jo Jo..” *Crowley shoves her under the water holding her under longer before bringing her up and shaking her hard* “You really and truly don’t understand the chance I’m giving you. You’re mother is safe, she’ll grow old and die in her sleep, I’ll even let that soul go to heaven again. You’ll have Grey and Anna and if you are an especially good girl, I’ll let you kill Gray.”

*Spluttering as he dunks her and she comes up again, Jo swallows down what water got into her mouth this time, looking at him incredulously even as she stills from fighting to free herself* “…What? What are you trying to do with.. Why do you even need someone to, given youre fucking god or whatever..? What is it you get out of that?” *Shaking her head to try and get the water from her eyes, she adds quietly* “…Whose soul?”

“Anna and Grey thanks to my previous attentions if you haven’t noticed, are a few potatoes shy of a bushel. They need emotional support and somehow your it and it’s just fun to watch you clean up after me.” *Giving Jo another hard shake he looks at her with a smug expression. “There got the water out of your ears? Good. The soul I’m talking about is your mothers. Instead of having a reaper bring it to me to eat I’ll let Ellen go up and live with good old Bill.”

*Jo’s look turns sour as he talks, bringing her arms up to wrench herself away from him and stumble a few steps back* “After you? You think I’d agree to just sit back and watch you hurt /people/ I care about, just so me and my Mom get left alone? I think that fuckin’ powers gone and made you insane, I’m not making any deals with you.”

*Crowley sighs and simply appears behind Jo, his hand in her hair, jerking her head up by it till she’s forced to stand on her toes. His other hand trails over her neck, running his fingers over her spine.* “Did you know that if I wanted to, I could break your neck right now in such a way that you would be forever trapped inside your body. Fully alert, alive but unable to communicate in anyway. I could make you watch as I hurt people that way. And after i’ve hurt them they would have to take care of your useless, dead body.”

*Trying to struggle, Jo shivers at the touch and the cold of the water, swallowing tightly like the last time he suggested taking her out like that. Clenching her jaw, she snarls back* “What is with you jackasses and breaking my neck..  I have that message, Crowley. You could also turn this lake into acid and have my legs eaten alive by the chemicals when you dunked me in and out. You could make my mouth disappear like in the Matrix so I’d starve slowly to death and not be able to call for help. You could do every imaginable bad thing, but you’re not going to.. Cause you don’t care enough to be bothered.” *She scrunches her eyes tightly as she talks trying to stop from shaking and truly hoping he doesnt follow any of the suggestions*

“Interesting suggestions. Grey or Anna, Jo?” *Crowley leans down close to her ear as he asks, his hand sliding around her neck, gripping her chin tightly as he pulls her head back to look at him.*“

*Jo grits her teeth, trying to look away even as his fingers dig into her chin* "What for?”

*Crowley jerks her head sharply, twisting her neck.* “Grey or Anna, Jo?”

*Hissing, she blinks at the sharp pain in her neck before spitting out* “Anna.  ….You already own her, right?”

“Anna makes sense, she’s already lame, she won’t miss her legs at all will she? And Grey, well we will have to find something creative for him since he can just jump meatsuits.” *Crowley chuckles as he shoves Jo back under the water again*

*Jo opens her mouth to speak just as he shoves her back again gasping and hitting at his hand when he doesnt bring her straight back up*

*Pulling her up Crowley shakes Jo off.* “What can we think of to do to Grey hmmm? You’re so full of ideas, give me some.”

*This time spitting out the lake water at him, Jo shakes her head* “Heres one, how ‘bout you put those souls away and go right back to fuckin’ hell where you fuckin’ belong?”

“Very well Jo. Everything that happens to Grey and Anna is now on your head.” *Crowley takes Jo far out into the middle of the lake and drops her in it.* “I’ll let you calm down as you swim back, rethink your choices. You can either help your friends as best you can or you can be a burden to them.” *Crowley shoves Jo under one last time before leaving the stubborn girl alone*

*Glaring at his words, Jo wasn’t expecting it when they suddenly move spots and she gets dunked underneath the surface. Kicking her way upwards, she tries not to panic before flapping her arms about to shrug off her jacket, before starting the long swim back towards the shore, hoping she doesn’t get weighed down by her boots as she pushes the words out of her mind as much as possible.*

Chat #2 - Jo confronts Crowley, is given the knife and information regarding the seals/binding

*Jo was getting closer to finding out the answer to potentially decrowning the self proclaimed God, but she knew it wasn’t going fast enough. The number of outbursts she’d been hearing and seeing from Anna, the way Gray was just not reacting to anything at all but orders and Grey’s swings between pissed off and touchy were just driving the point home that some sort of bandaid or quick fix was

needed. Grey was out of the house, hunting for the first time in a while (not that Jo was complaining at all), so she decided to quickly take advantage of that and the empty oval nextdoor for school rennovations to contact the ‘demon’ himself. She doesn’t bring anything for summoning just yet, instead planting her hands on her hips and screaming loudly* “Where ever you are, Crowley, I wanna talk!”

*Crowley was debating tracking down Ruby to see how she was enjoying Anna’s new lessons but then the call of his stable keeper peeked his interest so the demon could wait. Appearing behind to blond woman he smirks at her stance and he leans over her shoulder becoming visible, talking close to her ear.* “You called darling?”

*She practically jumps out of her skin, even though she was on edge and preparing for him to show up, spinning around and stepping back from him with an angry flush to her cheeks* “Yeah, I did. Enough is enough, you need to stop something of what you’re doin’ Crowley because I can’t keep this up if you keep adding more to it. You’re going to have to leave Anna alone.” *Jo raises her brow before adding* “Or restore Gray.”

*Crowley chuckles at the brazen demands as he crosses his arms across his chest, tapping a finger to his chin as he studies Jo. He wonders if she realizes just how dangerous of thing she just did but for now he’ll play along.* “Explain, I did put you in charge of their well being so I’ll listen to your council about the well being of my pets.”

“Ex-fucking-zactly. You put me in charge, I ignored you and you… you made your point. Now I’m tellin’ /you/, I’m just a human Crowley, I can’t take care of a broken monster /and/ a crazy angel /and/ a guy trying to prove himself.” *Jo stares back at him, not shrinking back any more. What was the worst he could really do, and she was willing to play his games now* “You can’t make Anna any more unstable or she will destroy everything, especially not if I can’t control her because I’m trying to fix Gray or stop Grey from killing the both of them!”

“Hmmm interesting.” *Crowley turns walking off, smiling devilishly as Jo seems to  be coming apart at the burden of taking care of everyone. Summoning a plush chair he sits down, schooling his expression and he creates another one for Jo, summoning her an expensive bottle of beer.* “ So you’re saying that everything is going to hell in the proverbial handbasket and you are failing to control it?”

*She twitches at the obvious invitation, shaking her head and then nodding before turning her back on him. Running a hand through her hair, Jo lets out a breath to try and calm herself before responding.* “Not exactly, just that it will be if anything more happens. I can only control so much, I’m not exactly 'all powerful’ like you.” *The sarcasms laid on heavy as Jo turns to face him again*

*Crowley raises his hand pulling Jo forward and forcing her to sit.* “I see. You say Anna’s unstable, she seemed to be learning her place rather well for me today. It’s amazing what a few shocks will do and of course a thorough lesson in humiliation. You’re coddling them Jo, you must have a firm hand with the live stock, take control and show them who’s boss. Even if you hurt a few feelings, it is for their well being in the end.”

*Jo snarls, sinking into the other chair trying to jerk away from the force but settles after a few seconds, fingers digging into the soft edge of the armrest* “I thought I was here to make them all happy after you’ve beaten them down, Crowley. Hurting feelings isn’t going to make for happy… pets.” *She chokes out the word, crossing her knees as she glares across at him*

“True I did say that but if they are being unruly then you must sometimes show them who is in control.  I would have thought you would have no problem doing that, was I wrong? Should I look to maybe putting one of my demons in charge if this is to much for you Jo?” *Crowley smiles faking concern as he summons a drink for himself.*

“If any demon you send comes near my house or Anna’s I will personally gut them and send them so far downstairs you’ll never find them again.” *Jo hisses back at him, rising to the bait easily before getting control of herself. reclining back even as her hands twitch* “I’ve kept them from it this long, I’m just concerned about your keeping them happy rule more than keeping them under control, Crowley. Something has to give, and I’d suggest that seeing Gray as he is now is… torment enough for Anna that you shouldn’t… need to.. to humilate and punish and… and yeah.” *She swallows thickly as she finishes, feeling the heat rise in her face as her arguments stumble down as she tries not to think about what Crowley might have already done or is planning to, hand reaching for the beer*

“Punish, no Jo this is what Anna willingly gave herself over to this to keep me from revisiting Gray and finishing what I started. She is taking her place, the fool!” *Crowley stands up laughing as he’s obviously enjoying what he’s done.* “Did you know she begged me to fuck her today? Oh it was a lovely sight, the angel on her knees, begging for it. Of course this was after she begged me to return Gray his abilitty to feed naturally. Which of course I denied beacuse why would I stop torturing them both.”

*Jo forces herself not to react, even as she brain screamed for her to run back to the house for a knife or a gun or to just give in and fling herself at him hoping her nails weren’t too bitten off today. Instead, she just digs her fingers further into the arm rest and attempting to school her face blank taking a sniff and then sip of the drink provided* “I had thought she might have, thanks for confirming that for me. …I’m not going to be able to fix her if you play with her too much, Crowley. I’d think even /you/ might have trouble with it.”

*Crowley stands up walking Jo’s chair, thinking about what Jo’s saying and he hmmmms loudly.* “So you think restoring Gray would help her, make her less crazy?”

“I… it could help, yes. Not playing so hard with her would probably work better, but if she thought she could have his support still rather than what he is now, then I’m sure she’d be a less unstable.” *Jo tilts her head back in order to following him with her eyes as she can almost feel her attempt to help Anna herself slipping away, but not sure where he’s going with this*

“Hmmmmm, let’s talk for a moment about Grey. How’s he doing Jo? It’s amusing to see how much Anna hates him, but it’s a good thing she’s just shy of useless or else Grey might be in trouble.” *Crowley leans over the back of Jo’s chair, picking up a strand of her hair, running it through her fingers as he waits for an answer.*

*She flinches slightly at his words, not able to contain the shudder at the idea the other was touching her even if all she could feel was the slight tug of her hair - mind racing with ways this conversation could go wrong now that she thought about it* “Grey’s fine, he’s.. …he’s the least trouble for me, very accommadating and if I can give a good reason he’ll agree not to do things which might disrupt the other two. Anna won’t be an issue, so long as she doesn’t become any more unhinged.” *It felt dreadful to be talking about her friends, the both of them, like that - but talking to Crowley she knew it would be better to keep as unattached absolutely possible*

“Wonderful to hear that he’s still the compliant little pet! So then this should make things easy for you Jo!” *Crowley reaches around, grabbing Jo around the throat, holding her back against the chair as he wraps his other hand around her forehead and the knowledge of the seals used to keep Gray bound sears into her mind. Once he’s sure she’s alive he sits back down smiling at her, a dagger in his hand.* “Still with me Jo?”

*Jo panicks the second he grabs her, kicking her feet and trying to pull away before something starts forcing its way into her mind. She scrunches her eyes shut through it, the pain causing her to black out for a few seconds before it brought her right back, disorientated and not sure she wants to know what it was even as she sees the same symbols as on Gray’s back run through her mind with new clarity. Not trusting herself to talk just yet, she blinks up at Crowley and nods her head almost imperceptibly*

“Good. Now listen carefully Jo. I’m giving you a choice to solve your problems. This dagger has my powers in it, you could very easily skin them off Gray, restoring him fully or you could break certain ones, feeding, his strength and so on. Are you following me on this Jo?” *Crowley leans offering the dagger to Jo, handle first with a smirk on his face.*

*Jo curls her hand around it, eyes flicking between it and him as she tries to blink away the stars still bluring some of her vision. What he says makes complete sense to her, mind whirling with what she knew about it but not sure what he was getting at* “I know… What’s it going to cost me to do any of them, or all of them?” *The dagger shakes slightly in her hand, a small part of her wanting to stab the blade into him, but the smirk on his face made her think that would be the worst possible idea right now*

“It’s simple really darling, before you can remove one on Gray, you must either convince Grey to willingly allow you to seal him or by force if you feel that it’s so important. The choice is entirely up to you Jo, you can leave Gray as he is, knowing that you have the power to end his suffering and help Anna’s or you can bind Grey like his brother and hope that he doesn’t hate you for it.”

*Jo stares at him in confusion, wondering for a second how this would count as a punishment before the full problem with that idea settles down on her like a boulder, making her outrightly shake in indignation, anger and contempt* “You.. You… You fucking bastard. That’s.. That’s /not/ a choice!”

“You asked for me to either leave Anna alone or restore Gray. Leaving Anna alone isn’t a possiblity and I’ve given you the power to restore Gray or not, I trust your judgement in these things Jo. Now it’s been a pleasure chatting with you but I have things to do, I’m a very busy God.” *Crowley stands smiling at Jo as he walks by, petting her on the head before vanishing.*

*Jo was opening her mouth to response, snap at him, something! when he disappears, the chairs thankfully not disappearing like normal. When she feels like she can stand, she moves off towards home, twisting the dagger over in her hands trying to work out what she would do.*

Chat #3 - Post binding removal, Crowley gets revenge for Jo not playing ball and the collar comes into play

*The kitchen had been getting incredibly bare recently but that wasn’t Jo’s real concern as she left the house was to check in Harry’s lists of available hunts as her own were shrinking even as she stayed up later and later searching for nearby monster or demon attacks. Pulling her coat tighter around herself as the nights chill got to her walking along the roadside towards the bar, Jo rubs at her

nose, turning pink from the cold, and momentarily regrets waiting until almost closing to head to the bar itself.*

*Crowley walks behind Jo unseen, he’s not exactly happy with the hunter right now, he’s been to see Anna even if she didn’t know it and the fact his collar and brands are no longer there displeases him greatly. The other thing that makes him an unhappy god is the fact Jo was not the one that freed Gray, the fact he was free wasn’t the issue, it’s the fact that Jo didn’t listen to him. Without appearing he simply reaches out and grabs Jo, taking her away to one of her own lockers and dropping her on the floor.* “You and I darling need to have a chat because I am very unhappy with your recent behavior.”

*Jo jumped the second she felt something grab her and the footpath is replaced with the inside of one of her lockers, her less used hidey-hole even. When she falls and hears Crowley’s voice, she scrambles back, trying to get a back to her wall as she tries to compose herself* “Oh really? I thought I’d done everything you’d asked.”

*Snapping his fingers he strips Jo coat and he pulls her back to him, pointing down to  his feet.* “No, you haven’t Jo and I think that it’s time to remind you of that.” *Another wave of his hand he forces Jo to her knees, forcing her arms out and placing her hands flat on a work table.* “You were to keep my pets happy and while Grey is happy, you have broken my little fallen angel.”

*Jo jerks and twists when he grabs and pulls her, cringing when her knees hit the concrete floor of the locker hard.* “You said that sometimes I needed to be rougher.. hurt now so they learn and avoid it in future.” *She tries to pull her hands back from the table, twisting her head up to look at him as goosepimps appear on her arms - whether from the temperature or expectation of what could happen she’s not sure* “I didn’t think you’d like her freeing Gray the way she did, thought punishing her for what it did to both the boys was a good idea..” *Her voice is quiet as she explains herself, well aware it’s a blatant lie and that he’d probably know it*

“No Jo, you didn’t punish her for me, you punished her for yourself.” *Crowley walks over to the wall, looking at the tools there and he pulls a hammer off the wall, turning it over in his hand, swinging it to test the weight.* “You put yourself above my orders, this makes me very very unhappy. I ask you Jo, how does removing my collar and destroying my brands punish Anna?”

*The second Crowley steps away Jo springs back up, turning around to look at him and moving her hands around in front of her as she shrugs her shoulder nonchantly, despite the angry flush on her cheeks* “The collar was because up until then Anna was behaving herself, she was being quiet and keeping Gray… happy. The brands..” *She stumbles, trying to think of an answer* “Were because I wanted her to feel what she put both shadows through, they both had their brands ripped apart, and I know cutting through scars can be worse than normal sometimes. Thought it might be the same for her.. And I didn’t think you’d want me to touch anything …else.”

*Crowley frowns as Jo moves and his gaze turns icey as he slams her back down into the position he put her in before.* “If you move again before I tell you too I’ll cut your legs off and let you bleed out.” *Walking around to the table he swings the hammer down onto her right thumb.* “You weren’t to remove the collar to begin with Jo.” *Lifting the hammer up he brings it down on the next finger.* "And of course the monsters were supposed to feel the pain of being cut up, you stupid girl. If I had wanted it painless I wouldn’t have given you a dagger.“

*Biting down on her lip to cut off the groan when she gets shoved back down, Jo shakes her head at his comment about moving before letting out a yelp at the first hit.* "Fuck!” *She doesn’t mean to but her hands jerk, the one not being hit jerking off the table as the next hit makes her cry out again, fingers throbbing painfully all the way up her arm* “Well then.. fuck, maybe it could compensate for Gray not.. being in pain. Think she knocked him out, never felt any of it.”

*Crowley scoffs and grabs her wrist of the hand Jo moved, holding it on the table as he brings the hammer down on her thumb.* “And who’s fault is that Jo? I gave you a choice to make and you made it. You decided to leave Gray bound and you told Anna that you had a way to free him!” *Crowley snarls as he brings the hammer down again on her fingers* “I think since you can’t understand how to take care of my pets I should simply add you to the collection.” *A collar appears on the table infront of Jo.* “Pick it up and put it on Jo.”

*She whimpers with each blow, trying to pull back instinctively but she can’t - glaring up at him between the hits darkly. When the collar appears, Jo shakes her head and lets out a pained laugh* “I would, ‘cept someone’s fuckin’ breaking my fingers.. So I’m goin’ to have to pass and say 'fuck you if you think that’s going to happen’.” *She knows its a stupid game, but Jo’s not sure how bad it can really get any more and figures after blowing at Anna she was going to stick on point and not back down* “So… /fuck you if you think that’s going to happen/, Crowley.”

*Crowley gives a long drawn out sigh as he walks around behind Jo, her legs feet exposed while she’s on her knees and he lifts up a foot, bringing down on her foot hard,* “Pick it up and put it on Jo, or I continue to break bones till there isn’t anything left but little pieces of bone.” *He looks at her hands seeing the swelling and discoloration of bruises forming, he’ll break every bone in them she doesn’t obey.*

*The hit on her foot actually makes her scream as she feels the blow reverberate through her whole foot and up her calf - not able to work out what was really hit as it throbs and jars* “Bring.. it on. Not like you, fuck, couldn’t anyway. I’m not.. a pet, Crowley, and you really wouldn’t..want that anyway.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t want you for a pet Jo.” *Crowley reaches forward as he stands on the foot he stomped, grinding it into the floor while he picks up the collar and he shows it to Jo. The works “Property of Grey” burn into it.* “I think I’ll give Grey a reward since you favor him so much and he’s been so good at following all of your instructions to him.” *Crowley places the cold metal around Jo’s neck, sealing it shut.*

*Shrieking and trying to pull away as he crushes her foot beneath his shoe, Jo glares back at him as he holds up the collar, not really reading it but figuring it would be like Anna’s until he continued speaking. Throwing her head about, she reaches to scratch and pull at it before the movement shocks her broken fingers, screaming out as she thrashes at it and at the pain* “No, no, get it off, get it off! Fuck, no, fucking no, get it off take it off!”

*Crowley chuckles as he watches Jo freak out. Seeing this side of the hunter is putting him in a better mood and he pets her head.* “Don’t worry Jo, this collar is dagger proof, you won’t be removing it the same way you did Anna’s.” *Reaching around her he takes her hands in his, pulling them away from the collar as he begins to crush them.* “You’ve made this perfectly clear that Anna was the one that orchestrated Gray’s freedom, what do you think I should do to punish her?”

*Jo’s still trying and tugging and pulling at her hands as he crushes them, letting out gasping whimpers as she does so before shaking her head at his words. Taking a deep breath and focussing on the pain instead, she tries to clear her mind before looking up at him hatefully* “What does this one do instead..?” *There’s a pit in her stomach worrying about it before she lets out a laugh* “As for Anna, whatever the fuck you want you fucking bastard.. Give her a puppy.. Give her all the power again.. Spoil the fuckin’ bitch rotten…” *She’s practically hissing, looking down as she talks before jerking her head up to sneer at him - a dark and angry look behind it as she adds* “Then take it all fuckin’ away again.”

“Hmmm interesting.” *Crowley drops Jo’s hands and steps back rubbing his chin as if in thought.* “Not sure if you’ve seen the angel but she’s not exactly in the position to recieve anything and Gray’s I’m still sure not up to snuff even after having been freed. Perhaps I’ll go do the humane thing with them both and put them down.”

“Sure you can fix that. You’re the one with the fuckin’ god complex.” *Jo mutters, looking up at him before shaking her head and speaking louder* “Like I said.. do whatever the fuck you want. It’s not like any of us can stop you..” *She shifts to cradle her hands together against her chest, feeling the claustrophobic feeling of the collar around her neck creeping up on her*

*Crowley chuckles watching the huddled form of Jo and he snaps his fingers. When she opens her eyes she’s back in Grey’s bedroom on the bed, the bedroom door locked so she can’t run away to keep Grey from finding his presant.*

*Jo’s not sure what happened, again one second she was in the locker and the next sitting up in the familiar bedroom and hearing the lock click over as the adrenaline of pissing off Crowley fades back and the pain takes the centre stage. Curling in on herself in the middle of the bed, looking away from the door, she takes advantage of the time alone to let out the pained tears rather than screams*

[introvertfics]

aliens and comets

name: aliens and comets

rating: t

pairing: tyler joseph / josh dun

summary: none

word count: 2859

warnings: near-death experiences, drowning

please do not repost without my permission!

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Tyler had never learned how to swim. When he was in first grade his mother had signed him up for swimming lessons at the local youth center. He had been excited for weeks leading up to it- he had begged his mother to buy him a new swimsuit, a pair of red swimming trunks with a black skull pattern on them. In his little six-year-old mind, he could already see himself like one of the swimmers his father had shown him during the Olympics, a rush of happiness and childlike eagerness filling him every time he thought of it.

But when the day finally came, things weren’t at all how he had expected- the instructor he had been partnered with, a teenage boy with greasy brown hair down to his waist and piercings in seemingly every part of his body, had decided that the first method Tyler had to be taught was how to hold his breath underwater. The instant Tyler’s mom had left the pool area, after promising him that she would be back in ten minutes to check on him, the teenager had pushed his head under the water without even giving him a chance to get a breath. Due to the limited amount of oxygen already in his lungs when he had been shoved beneath the surface of the water, it was only a few seconds before he reached his breaking point, his mouth involuntarily opening and allowing water to rush into his windpipe. Overwhelming panic rushing through his body, he tried desperately to move his limbs in an attempt to break free from the iron grips on the back of his neck. His mind was racing, unable to form a single coherent thought other than the one voice at the back of his head that was screaming you’re going to die, you’re going to die over and over again.

Then suddenly he was being pulled from the water by the back of his neck, being barely given a chance to cough the salty, chlorine-filled water from his mouth and take in a breath before being plunged back beneath the suffocating liquid. It was torture for Tyler as the process was repeated over and over again; every brief moment of possible hope as he was allowed to breathe being promptly flattened as he was shoved back in the water, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen and the repetitive motion of his head being tossed back and forth as he was pulled to and from the water, like he was slamming his head against a wall. When his vision began shifting to a faded, tainted yellow, Tyler was vaguely aware of a little voice in the back of his head, whispering quietly over the panic in his mind- that’s a very pretty yellow. The thought lingered in his head for a few more seconds, the single coherent thought that it was indeed a very pretty shade of yellow, before his vision cut out completely to black, like a television being switched off with a single press of a button.

He had awoken in the hospital, surrounded by various machines that beeped and lit up randomly and terrified him. He already didn’t like the hospital, since the first visit he could remember when he had wiped out on his tricycle in the driveway and gotten a particularly nasty scrape on his knee that required stitches- the smell of antiseptic, the occasional screaming and yelling of distressed patients in their room, how everything was an uncomfortably bright and blinding white… it was far too much for him to handle then, and especially not now in this already panicked and confused state. Most of Tyler’s time in the hospital was spent under heavy sedation, since he would go into a borderline panic attack state if he wasn’t. He didn’t bring up the swimming lessons after he was released from the hospital- in fact, he didn’t want to learn how anymore, and he’d be much better off never seeing another pool for the rest of his life. But despite his best efforts, here he was, almost eleven years later, his fists clenching the pastel yellow fabric of his favorite hoodie, his eyes widening and his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate as he stared at the in-ground pool just a few feet of grey patio tile away from him.

“Tyler, you gonna get in or what? You’ve been standing there for like ten minutes…” Jenna called from the deep end of the pool, her blonde hair illuminated by the strands of yellow and white fairy lights strung high above the water. They were one of the few sources of light outside the house, the sun having set an hour or so ago and the moon shining bright in the summer sky.

Tyler nodded slowly, putting his hands in his hoodie pockets to hide his shaking fingers. “I will, Jenna, in like five minutes…” He let out a brief sigh, shuffling his bare feet back and forth and shivering slightly due to the cold marble against them.

“It’s been more than five minutes already, come on!” One of Jenna’s friends called from somewhere near her. When Jenna had invited Tyler to her house, he hadn’t counted on twelve of her friends that he didn’t know being there as well. He had spent most of the time so far sticking close to Jenna’s side, far too intimidated to engage in conversation with the others.

“...okay, fine, make some room for me! I’m coming in!” Tyler forced out with as wide a smile as he could muster. As his ears were filled with the whoops and cheers of the others, he stripped down to his boxers, his shaking hands making it extremely difficult to remove his clothing. Kicking the articles of clothing off to the edge of the patio where they wouldn’t get soaked with pool water, he got down in a crouch by the edge of the edge of the water, staring down at the greyish, almost black, reflection of the sky. He slowly touched the surface of the water, allowing his fingertips to dip below the surface of it as the tiny ripples washed over his fingers. The pool seemed to be heated, which meant that it wasn’t deathly cold like the last time he had been in water. He removed his fingers from the water and let out a little sigh, mentally willing himself to move into the pool slowly. Just stay calm, it’ll be fine… if you stay near the edge in the shallow end, you should be fine. Just act normal and you’ll…

But Tyler’s logical thinking quickly turned to a flurry of panic when he suddenly found himself in the water, unable to tell which way was up, the bodies of the people in the water only represented by dark shapes on an even darker background. A slight thought flashed through his mind like lightning- somebody pushed me- before it was gone and replaced with panicked nonsense. His arms and legs slammed against the walls and bottoms of the pool, a single muted scream of terror ripping its way through his throat before being stifled by the rush of water into his throat. His head was spinning already, that familiar shade of yellow soaking its way into his line of vision as he fought against the feeling of hands on the back of his neck, his fear taking him back to the first time the teenage swimming instructor had plunged him into the pool.

When Tyler felt himself being pulled back above the surface, he immediately tried to get loose, his utter terror at being shoved back beneath the dark unknown, water-choked screams escaping his lips as he tried to pull himself over the edge of the pool. Even though his eyes were closed, he could almost picture himself being held in the grip of the swimming instructor, about to be pushed back beneath the water in one merciless motion. Only when he felt the cold marble patio pressing against his back as he was pushed over the edge and back onto solid ground did he open his eyes and realize that he wasn’t at the youth center, about to be shoved underneath the water. He wasn’t on the water anymore, and he was alive. Disoriented, shaky, and on the verge of tears, but still alive.

Someone was suddenly yelling, shaking his shoulder, and waving a hand in front of his face. As Tyler tried to focus on his surroundings as his vision came into focus, he slowly realized that it was one of Jenna’s friends, who appeared to be a year or two older than him. The thing that Tyler first focused on was his dark green hair, which appeared to be still in a semi-fluffy state despite being soaked with water. There was also a variety of tattoos covering his body, the most noticeable one being a colorful image of a tree that covered his entire right arm. Even though his vision was still blurry from the tears and pool water clinging to his eyelashes, he could still make out most of his features. Tyler reached up and grabbed the male’s left bicep, holding onto it tightly in an attempt to ground him. “Don’t leave…” he choked out, coughing some pool water up in the process and wincing as the chlorine stung the inside of his mouth and throat.

“It’s Tyler, right? Tyler, just breathe for me…” The male said in a calming though slightly shaky voice, pushing a few strands of Tyler’s soaked hair out of his face. “You’re okay, you’re out of the water, you’re not in danger…” Tyler nodded, gripping his arm tighter as he squeezed his eyes shut and continued to cough up water, letting out pathetic half-sobs as his left hand involuntarily grabbed at nothing. When he felt the male’s own hand ghosting over his own empty one, he grabbed it as hard as he could, lacing their fingers together tightly.

When Tyler eventually managed to calm himself down most of the way, finally laying still on the patio apart from the occasional twitches of his head and left hand, he continued to cough every few minutes, attempting to clear any remaining water from his lungs. Apart from the ache in his chest and throat and the stinging of his lower arm- he had somehow managed to scrape it and open a small cut while he was in the water- he felt okay. The green-haired boy had stood up and was currently screaming at one of the other people in the pool at the moment. “You kidding me, Jason? Why the fuck would you push him?”

“I didn’t know he was gonna flip out like that, Josh! Shut the hell up!” Jason yelled back.

“You could have killed him! What the hell were you thinking?”

Tyler shook his head as he lay on the ground, digging the fingers of his right hand into his sopping wet hair. “Stop yelling… stop yelling!” he begged, the first part in a whisper and the second part a near scream, already on the verge of tears again.

Almost immediately, the boy- Josh- was at his side again, gently pushing his fingers through his hair and whispering calm words to him. “Hey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t yell anymore… you want me to take you inside where it’s quieter?” he asked softly.

Tyler nodded and latched his arms around Josh’s neck, holding on as tight as he could. As Josh picked him up and held him close to his chest as he carried him inside through the slightly tarnished glass sliding doors, he could feel himself becoming surprisingly relaxed, his hyper heart rate slowing down to a normal level and the shaking of his head and left hand completely dying away. He continued to hold on tight and closed his eyes, shivering slightly as the cool air conditioning of the house raised goosebumps over his wet skin. He only chose to let go when Josh set him down on the edge of the kitchen counter, letting his legs dangle over the edge as he wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to keep warm. His head was bowed slightly and his gaze was focused on the water dripping down his legs onto the floor, so he was caught a bit off-guard when he felt some sort of fabric being draped around his shoulders. Slightly confused, he picked up the item and examined it. It was a light green hoodie, the kind that zipped up completely around your face, with a cartoonish alien face on the part that covered your head.

“You can wear it if you’re cold…” Josh smiled when Tyler glanced up at him. “You seemed chilly, so…”

“I don’t wanna get water all over it, though…” Tyler mumbled, frowning slightly as some water from his fingertips began to seep into the soft material of the hoodie.

“It’s okay, honestly. I care more about you being okay than a hoodie getting soaked,” Josh shrugged, draping the hoodie back around Tyler’s shoulder. “Just put it on… you’re shivering so much…” he frowned.

“Okay, okay, I will…” Tyler pushed his arms into the sleeves and tugged the hood over his head. The hoodie was clearly a few sizes too big for him, his fingertips just barely managing to poke out of the sleeves and the hood partially draping in front of his eyes. However, it made him significantly warmer in just a few seconds, and he quickly zipped it up to his neck, managing his first real smile in what felt like hours.

“Is that better?” Josh asked in a murmur, leaning against the kitchen counter with his hands on either side of Tyler’s hips.

“Yes… much better,” Tyler replied with a quick nod, his face beginning to heat up as he realized just how close their two faces were. “Thank you for helping me,” he added, pushing a few strands of wet hair out of his eyes and keeping part of the sleeve over the lower half of his face in a poor attempt to hide the blush embarrassingly making its way across his cheeks.

“That’s good… you need anything else right now?” Josh raised an eyebrow.

“No… don’t go, though, please…” Tyler said quickly, reaching out and grabbing hold of Josh’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to leave yet…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not leaving any time soon.” Josh shook his head, pushing a few strands of green hair out of his face. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

“Thank you.” Tyler smiled, letting his hand drop from Josh’s shoulder into his lap. “...can I have a hug, please?”

“Aw, of course…” Josh leaned forward and hugged Tyler, almost lifting him off the counter due to how tightly he was embracing him. Feeling his heart pounding in his chest, Tyler wrapped his arms around Josh’s neck, holding on tightly and feeling his heart pounding rapidly in his chest in the best way possible- it was entirely possible that Josh gave the best hugs in the entire universe. Just like before, he felt safe and protected, like nothing could possibly hurt him. In this moment, he was also aware of just how exhausted he was- every muscle in his body seemed to ache slightly, his eyelids threatening to drift shut any moment. He let out a little yawn, dropping his head against Josh’s shoulder in fatigue.

“You tired?” Josh asked, rubbing a hand up and down Tyler’s back in a relaxing gesture.

“M-hm…” Tyler nodded, clinging tightly to Josh as he closed his eyes. He felt Josh lifting him up and moving across the room, and he continued to hold on, not planning to let go any time soon. Soon, he felt Josh lying down on his back on the couch, putting his arms around his waist and hugging him. He opened one eye, glancing up towards the green-haired boy he was clinging to. “What are you doing?” “Get some rest if you need to.” Josh pushed his fingers through Tyler’s hair underneath his hoodie, playfully teasing it and fluffing it up.

“Don’t you wanna go back outside with everyone? I’m sure that’d be more fun for you…” Tyler insisted.

“It’s fine, honestly. Like I said, I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” Josh smiled, gently drumming his fingers on Tyler’s lower back in a motion that somewhat mimicked rain falling onto a glass window. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Tyler nodded, letting his eyes drift closed as he curled up in a little ball on Josh’s chest and nuzzling his head against his shoulder. For the first time since the evening began, he felt truly safe and protected- he had no idea why, but this boy wanted to keep him as happy and protected as possible, and he was happier than ever. The last thing that went through his mind was simple, but the most relaxing thing he could imagine: His eyes are such a nice shade of brown..

Hello, reader! I hope you have enjoyed this short one-shot. If you did, please like and reblog, it would be very much appreciated! If you want to read more of my stories, please follow my blog and turn on notifications so you know whenever I upload a new story! Thank you very much!

[whatthepuck20]

Good Coffee. Awkward Conversation.

Who: Noah Puckerman and Abel Hayward When: August 27th noonish Where: Lima Bean, Lima Ohio What: Puck runs into Abel in Lima and they finally meet.

To say Puck was tired would be an understand. He already had issues sleeping due to some shit he saw overseas, but with Saph in town, it was fair to say sleep was the last thing on his mind. The recruitment office was usually slow around lunch time, so Puck decided to dip out and run to the Lima Bean for needed caffeine. His uniform brought about the usual stares, but he was used to it by now. Puck ordered a large coffee, black and stepped to the side to wait for it to be made. He accidentally bumped into the man next to him and muttered an apology before looking up. The man looked familiar, but he couldn’t place an exact name to the face. “Do I know you?”

Abel was thankful for his mom when she told him that she would watch Issy while he slept. Though, he couldnt sleep any longer and didnt want to grab something to drink at home. So he got dressed, grabbed his skateboard and headed to the Lima Bean. He was scrolling through the tag photos he was in when he felt someone bumped into him. He looked up and noticed that the other guy looked familiar. “Maybe? Lima is a small town and everyone knows everyone, right? Or has that changed in the past two weeks.” He pocketed his phone and took off his sunglasses to get better look at the guy.

Puck furrowed his brow slightly as he thought of all of the people he knew from Lima. Once the other man took off his sunglasses, it all clicked in Puck’s head. “You’re….Dani’s roommate, right? The ‘hottest male dork’ she knows,” he said with air quotes. Chuckling, he offered Abel his hand. “Sup, man? I’m Puck.”

“Arent you the guy who called me Captain Ab-merica last week?” Abel asked when he looked at the guy better. “Yeah, Im Dani’s roommate and that is me.” He chuckled as he shook his hand. “Not much, you? And Im Abel, its nice to finally meet you.”

He laughed at the accusation and shrugged a shoulder. “Yep. I mean to be fair, you had just posted a shirtless photo.” Hearing his name being called out, he turned around to grab the coffee and thanked the barista before facing Abel once more. “On a quick lunch break. Needed a pick me up…someone kept me up all night,” he joked before taking a sip of the hot coffee. “You wanna grab a table? I got like 20 minutes before I have to head back to the office.”

Abel raised an eyebrow when he heard Puck and pulled out money for a tip before he took a drink of his coffee. He did a spit take when he heard Puck and coughed. “Saph’s here?” He asked as he used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe his mouth.  “Yeah, that sounds good to me. I got an hour before I gotta surprise my daughter but let’s grab a table.”

Puck raised an eyebrow at the spit take. “You ok, dude? Yea Saph’s here. Wait…you know Saph?” he asked as he made his way to an empty table and took a seat. “Yea Saphira surprised me at work last week. It’s been amazing even though Lima is boring as hell and there’s nothing to do here,” he added with a chuckle. “You have a daughter? How old is she?”

Abel nodded as he cleared his throat. “Im okay, I didnt know that Saph is here and that, I do. We’re acquaintances, Saph asked me to write that article on Quinn a few weeks back.” He took the seat across from him and placed his drink on the table. “Yeah, but some of the people aren’t bad.” He casually said, took a sip of his coffee and placed it back on the able. “Yeah, um. Well, she’s still currently my goddaughter but Im in the middle of the adoption process and she’s seven, actually. She’s been visiting my parents for a month, that way she’s not in the midst of everything that has been going down in LA and in New York but Dani and I got a house this past weekend and we want to surprise her with it.” He paused for a bit. “I saw that you had a thing at the school, how did that go?”

Leaning back in his seat, he nodded slowly. “Ah I gotcha. Saph is awesome. Best partner in crime I could as for. You’re a journalist? That’s cool. I can’t spell worth shit to do that.” He sipped his coffee slowly as he listened to the other man speak. “Seven? That’s a good age. My daughter is eight. She’s a firecracker. I heard yall were moving. Are yall all unpacked yet? Moving is a bitch,” he commented as he played with the coffee cup in his hand. “It went well. Got a decent amount of interest. Just wanted to let them know there are options out there if college isn’t their thing, you know?”

Abel nodded when he heard the other guy. “Yeah, Saph’s one of a kind for sure. Im a journalist, Im also freelance artist at Cy’s comics in New York, model and Im also a voice actor who’s going to be taking acting lessons when I get back. That way I can get more acting roles since I love it. Thats why they have editors.” He said with a smile and nodded once more. “Yeah, she’s seven and it is, but Im worried since she’s already sassy enough, that she will be more sassier and a firecracker. For the most part, but Dani’s unpacking the rest and getting Issy’s room together. It is, yeah but hopefully we’re done moving for a while.” He listened to him, took a sip of his coffee and placed it back onto the table. “Of course, yeah and I wish I had that kind of information when we were back in high school, but I guess I had my calling.”

Puck couldn’t help but smile. “Definitely one of a kind. I’m a lucky dude,” he responded with a nod. “Shit, dude. That’s awesome. Sounds like you’re living the dream…and it explains the shirtless pic,” he joked. “She’ll probably get a little more sassy. I feel like the sassiness doesn’t stop until like teenage years are done.” He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee before setting it down. “Everyone has their place in life I guess. I didn’t think I’d be doing this when I was in high school. But I ended up loving it. Life is weird like that.”

“Yeah you are.” Abel agreed with a smile and slowly nodded with a chuckle. “And the bunch of magazines of me on the cover in the store.” He let out a sigh as he listened to the other guy, knowing that he’s right. “Yeah and even with that, it won’t stop. Her mother was sassy. Not only that, everyone around her is sassy.” He pointed out and knew what he meant. “Yeah, that’s for sure. One thing is happening and then the next, your life is changed.”

“Sassiness is genetic. You’re screwed man,” he joked with a chuckle. “Agreed. You never know what the hell life is gonna throw at you until you’ve already been hit in the face by it.” Puck took a long sip of his coffee before setting the cup down once more. “So how long have you known Saph? Got any secret insider information for me?”

“I’ve been screwed ever since she learned how to talk.” Abel chuckled as he shook his head at the memories. “Exactly and you’re never prepared for that either.” He leaned in his chair and hummed as he thought. “I’ve known Saph ever since April/May? During that time, things were fuzzy as fuck around those two months. Just, don’t get on Saph’s bad side or anything like that.”

Chuckling, Puck finished off his coffee and pushed the cup to the side. “Kids, man. They’re a handful.” He drummed his fingers on the table top and nodded his head. “Ah so you two have known each other for a little while, nice. It’s nice to meet people who know Saph who aren’t Quinn.” Puck couldn’t help but laugh at the bit of advice Abel gave him. “Yeaaaa I don’t wanna even know what Saph’s bad side is like. I’m gonna treat Saphira as good as I can.”

Abel nodded in agreement. “They are, but Im grateful for her.” He chuckled a bit before he shook his head when he heard Quinn’s name. “Yeah, we have and thank god, no.” He ran a hand over his face and looked at him once he leaned back once more. “You and I both.” He sat up a bit straighter before he gotten comfortable in chair and smirked a bit. “Speaking of that, we both know that Saph can handle anything. However, I started to care about Saph a bit more ever since the car accident.” He picked up his cup, twirled it around his in hand and looked at it for a bit. “Though, if I hear one thing about you upsetting Saph, in any form that’s not from happiness or hurt Saph. I know a bunch of guys who owe me a favor and I know that they’re not afraid to send you swimming with the fishes and I also know that they would make everything like an accidental kinda thing.” He looked back at Puck and continued to move the cup. “These guys, aren’t small, believe me. I wish I can say that they’re small and wouldn’t hurt a fly. However, I’ve known them for at least four years and I can at least name about, fifty guys who disappeared without a trace and the cops never solved their case. A bunch of cold cases.” He stopped the cup and placed the cup onto the table. “So, if you hurt Saph, I’ll make sure to be the journalist on that case and I will make sure Saph will be protected. Capisci?”  

He smirked softly as Abel spoke before reverting to the blank face he was trained to put on in the face of threats. Puck crossed his arms over his broad chest and listened carefully to what the other man was saying. “Heard and understood,” he replied. “But you should know, I care deeply about Saph. And I will never, ever, do anything to hurt Saph. Saph is the best thing that has happened to me in a very, very long time. I may be stupid…but I’m not dumb enough to fuck up what we have.” He leaned forward and offered Abel his hand. “You’re a good man, dude.”

Abel had to keep himself from chuckling after that, he couldnt believe that he went full Italian and he wasnt even Italian. “Good, if you do, I’ll let Saph deal with you then I’ll involve the guys.” He replied before he shook the other’s hand. “Eh, I try to be a good man, but thank you and you’re a good man too.”

“That’s fair,” he replied as he took his hand back. Checking his watch, he cursed softly to himself. “I gotta head back to the office. I’ll hit you up the next time I’m in New York, man” he commented as he stood up from the table. “See you around, Abel.”

“You better, or I would be hurt.” Abel replied as he watched the guy stood up and finished his drink. “See ya man.” He stood up as well and threw his drink away before he checked his own watch, knew that he needed to head back to surprise Issy.

[evelyn-fenton-blog]

Family Fuck ups.

I sit at the desk. I had hoped the palace would make chairs more comfortable than the ones at my own home, but alas any chair sat in for more than four hours is a bad chair. I suppose I should be socializing.

Maya is now my friend, Eloise is my friend, I’m supposed to be seducing Prince Nathaniel. But I want to write. There’s just no inspiration. It’s not like the first time I wrote. Not like the first time I lost.

**************Flashback time***********

It’s almost time for finals, but I couldn’t care less. All I care about is him. My childhood friend, my only friend, my first love, and my boyfriend.

I wait after school for him hiding around a vending machine, using the angles to keep me out of sight. Once he is in my sight I leap hugging him, taking him by surprise.

“I got you!” I cheer. He laughs as we hug. Then he tries to kiss me, though I was still much too young for that. So I pulled away.

The next year we stayed the same.

He aged to 18, I aged to 16. We grew up together, holding hands together, laughing together. Being together.

Then it all stopped.

It started calm.

“This is a really good poem for just Ms. Wallis’ class. Why not enter it in a contest?”

“You know I don’t really want to be a writer.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m a six.”

“It’s not that.”

“If it isn’t how come that is the only time you truly seem yourself? Why do you put in words the things you’d never say? Why do you put writing above even eating at times?”

“I don’t know. Well.. I may love writing but I love you more I just want to be with you!”

“You don’t know what you want Evey! You’re a child!”

“Yes I do I want you! If I’m such a child why are you even with me then?”

***************************************************

I lean back in the seat and look at the time.

One in the morning. It’s time to wake him.

I walk up to the royals hall. I know I shouldn’t be here but I couldn’t send a maid. Then I knock on the door and wait.

“Brooks!” I yell in a hushed voice not wanting to wake anyone.

He groggily opens the door. “What? Evelyn?”

I giggled at his appearance. He was not a very dainty sleeper. “You have bedhead. Anyways, it's time for you to help me with my next book. Get dressed.”

He looked back into his room, presumingly at a clock. “It’s 1am.”

“Yup. This way we won't get in trouble, brains work better at night, and the cold can wake you up.”

He yawns “Fine.” then grabs a sweater and closes the door.

“Where're we going?”

“We're going to escape the palace. I read on a map there's a beach by here. In short we're going exploring.”

“We should tell a guard.”

“That would take the fun out of it. If by some magic they notice we're gone we'll just say you were kind enough to take me on a walk because I couldn't sleep. Just to the gardens.”

“I'm hardly allowed to go anywhere without supervision.”

“Well, you have my supervision. Come on.” I then took his sleeve to slowly drag him along which he doesn't resist.

“Good boy. Nooowwww how do you think we should escape. The beach looks closer to the garden and there's that big woods right by it so I'm guessing there's a weak point there.”

“We are so not going in the woods.”

“And why not?”

“I could be murdered.”

“By a bunny rabbit?”

“By Hooks Heave.”

I laughed, “You'll be fine. If Hooks Heave makes an appearance I'll write in a wolf to maul him.”

“Oh, thank God. I'm so glad I have your writing to rely on regarding my life.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Are you planning on murdering me?”

“Nope this is not inspiration for Hooks Heave.”

“Damn.”

“Damn? Did you want to die?”

He grinned, “Oh no, I would never be so self deprecating.”

“Somehow I feel like that's sarcasm. Now i'm for sure going to push you into the ocean.”

“Excuse you, I am royalty and I do not take threats like that lightly. Watch yourself, peasant.” He then poked my forehead.

“Right. Dear me, now I may lose my head. All because of some cold salt water.”

“The real world is a cruel, cruel place.”

“Thats an idea for a book. Writing about the crudeness of the world. A woman falls in love with a man only to learn he's a dick then they fight and she finally storms out to leave with their 5 year old daughter. She packs a small suitcase and boards a bus out of town. As the bus leaves a giant octopus comes and crushes the town. Everyone dies but the daughter. The lesson is the world is cruel.”

“Yikes... I see why you need my help. Tsk tsk.” I thought that one was pretty good. Even when you want to escape to a nicer world, the world is not nice and will kill you if you try.

“Well I lost my past inspirations so now I'm just stuck with bad ideas but a good brain. It's a very complicated situation.” I lost him, and I lost her.

“What a tragic time. I don't know about you, but I'm partial to accuracy.”

“Yeah but I don't know what to be accurate about. Even if i took out the octopus the root of that idea sucks. My first book was a love story, the second was a murder mystery, now I need something new but all I have are octopi and hooks heave.”

“Okay, what about a coming of age story?”

“People like those, but that focuses just on one person. I'm not good at that.”

His face brightens, “A challenge!”

I sighed, why’d something I hate so much have to inspire him? “I don't even know where to start with a book like that.”

“Think of a main character.”

“Well I normally base my characters a bit on myself but I can't make it too similar ummm..okay so it's about a young girl, maybe 18. No idea what her name is.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?” I ask but close them.

“Just do it. Okay, what is this character like.”

“Ummm. She's a redhead, she's pretty introverted, she can be a bit aggressive and selfish too but that's because she  raised well. She likes sweets and cats.” Like you but meaner.

“What's her family like?”

“Her mother and father fight a lot. They stay together for financial reasons. For most of her youth she was neglected as they were trying to divorce but finally settled on living separately but staying married. She later had a half-sister who is much younger than her who's raised under the custody of her father who was a much nicer man than her mother as a female.”

“Does she have friends?”

“Not really. She doesn't go out much because she's scared people will hurt her like her parents did.”

“Is there a love interest in her world?”

“No men are horrible.....” A book with a female lead without a female love interest is risky. It might not sell well.

I sigh, “I guess she can have a male for awhile. But I write tragedies so it'll end with them breaking up somehow.”

“She finds herself, huh?”

“Always better to pick yourself over a man. That's the theme of my first book, not the one you were reading.” It’s what I should have done. Instead he forced me to have no choice but myself.

“Ah, but are you writing your first book?”

“Ah no. I wrote that book in 2 days, dont want a mistake like that again.” I wrote it sobbing, with a fever.

He left me. He made me pick writing over him. He broke me. I didn’t leave my home for a month afterwards. I failed all my classes, I was basically a high school dropout. All I had was a box of tissues, my laptop, my cat, and my feelings. I needed to vent it all out somehow. My first book was how.

“Think of what you want again.”

“Right. Book. New book. Book with brooks. Maybe I'll have it end with her picking her career over her boy.”

“Why can't she do both?” Right Brooks is a prince. He has time to do careers as hobbies along with his caste given duty.

“She's a three, her boyfriends a four and wanted to include her in the family. If she stayed with him she'd have to accept eventually becoming a four and no longer being able to be a writer as her career.” Make it a four. Make it seem better. Safer. Less of a risk. That way the idea of her dropping down a caste seems more possible. Instead of falling three.

“So she chooses work over love?”

“Yes. It's the wise choice. It's what will make her money and keep her afloat in a society which she is already disadvantaged in due to her gender. Because of her upbringing she is also taught to have the practical mindset that would lead her to that choice. Also she wants to make her mother happy so obviously there is no other choice for her.” It’s the choice I should have made. I should have left his ass. I should have won our relationship. Been the empowered woman. Not the deer in the headlights.

“What if she breaks past that?”

“She can't she shouldn't give up what she loves for a man. But I can't end it that way either. Even if he wasn't right for her, she's still a person. No one deserves to just live alone like that, without friends or anyone to love. Maybe she should have just settled so she wouldn't have to be alone with only a cat who would die three months later.”

“Stop writing what you're used to.”

“I don't know what else to write.”

“Do something you're not comfortable with.”

“What about a sci-fi book. I hate those so maybe I could make one I like.”

He laughs. What? I thought that was a legitimate idea. “Open your eyes.”

I open them, happy to see Brooks again. “Thank God I'm not blind. I was starting to get tired.”

“Do you have an idea of what you want to do?”

“I want to go swimming. If I go to bed I'll miss the window the brain is most creative in.”

“You should go to bed.”

“Fine. I'll walk back with you so you don't get murdered.”

“I'm so honored.”

“You should be.” I then held my arm out.

“Here you can even link arms with me that way if Hooks comes at you it'll be easier to hide behind me.”

“What if I'm Hooks?”

That stumped me for a moment. “Hmmm then I guess I deserve to be killed for being dumb enough to not notice, then lead you to a secluded area with me.”

“Let's just head back to the palace. And quickly too. I don't want the press getting the wrong idea.”

“What do you mean wrong idea? Plus I doubt there's any press out and about this late.”

“Well, it's a little weird a selected would be walking with me out here. And they're always around.”

“True but I could explain it. Writers always do crazy things. And thats creepy. Maybe I should write about journalists being aliens from hell.”

“Wouldn't be that far off. Luckily, I'm not in the papers very often.”

“Shocking, you don't want to be a drama llama and win all the attention?”

“'Drama llama'?”

“I like the rhyme, kill me. Your sister clearly shows off that even those who aren't the heir can get all the attention they need.”

He frowned and back away from me, unlinking our arms. “Are you talking about Mal?” Fuck.

“A bit? It's not a judgement just a fact that press likes the way she acts so she gets a lot of attention from them. Why does it matter?” shit.

“It sounds like you're speaking in the negative.” Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You can't insult my sister to my face, Evelyn.” God I’m a moron.

“Right. Maybe I should not talk about your sisters at all, doesn't seem to go well.”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn't.” We walked in silence. Great Evey, you are a master of conversation. Insult his sister to his face.

“I trust you can make it to your room from here.”

I apologize once more and leave. It seems everytime we talk I ruin it. 

[astralsecrets]

Diary entry 1 - example for integration initiative

Non-lucid – Notes – lucid – Interpretation 2018-11-13 00:21 So to take charge on the dreamwork project with healing rejser I have decided to run it myself, though I feel somewhat tired. I don’t know where to start. It feels as if identification with psychological self is falling away. Over the past couple of days I have experienced that with every thought arise a history, a narrative a person-in-potentia. It is falling away and I realise myself to be infinitely broader than whatever thought, feeling or sensation that arise, yet I am also Dennis, an embodied, carnal and emotional being just the same. I have experienced anger towards Cecilie culminating in an experience of being hurt. Simply hurt. The numbness and stupididty I felt when realising that is all I had been fighting to feel, all my anger towards her was trying to repress and what the suicidality was an expression of left me giggling, free and confused. Speaking off. There has been much confusion. Mainly as I have found little to be ecstatic or happy about, no mission nor direction. Thus meaninglessness and confusion. When I felt the hurt with regard Cecilie I started crying and placed myself down on a carpet. I saw myself a fetus in the womb of my mother and it felt as if I sent a team of light beings, angels to remind the fetus in the past that it was forever loved, before I took it and placed it firmly in my chest, now giving it love from myself to myself. I want to try out permaculture, more embodied, more giving a shit about my daily life and the planet on which it occurs. No longer a saviour project (attachmentto the recognition associated with such an endeavour), but simply because I miss trying out more contact with nature in a responsible way, the way of a custodian. I have felt curiosity about people. Like genuine curiosity, notable due the absence of trying to bring the conversation around to be about me. Either in terms of “I have tried something similar, when...” or “I totally get that, maybe you should look at it like… to….” or simply to demonstrate cleverness a hungry and hurt yearning for recognition, a desperation for fulfilling a hole that was futile from the beginning. I have seen the source, understood the principles by which the conditioning arose and battled myself to eternity to cling on to it, but it is faltering. I have experienced the depths of despair, isolation and loneliness driving my thoughts into suicidal contemplation ever so more specific and concrete, to the point that I just 2 days ago considered writing my departure letter as a way of examining why I was thinking about quitting it all. This pain has driven me through profound anger at my heart, my soul and God. I have been piss fucking irritated at my soul and God for not really appreciating the nature of a mortal being and selfishly deciding to put a poor human being, and not only me, through whatever hurts simply so they can learn a lesson or two from an immortal perspective. Funnily enough this anger was followed by what seemed a remark from Raphael “you have a point you know”. I have been angry at my heart as I thought that was a spot in which I was supposed to find rest, but the more I dive in the more it screams “BRING ME YOUR SUFFERING” as it spreads out tentacles digging up collective emotional bull shit that is lingering below the surface and causing all sorts of havoc, wanting to feel it so it can be released. What a dick that heart of mine! In my moments of darkness the room has literally seemed to go black and a voice have whispered “Well if you don’t need that soul...”. I guess if you open for angels, you open for all of them. Yet then in meditation the whispers of Ganesh have imparted me teachings of regulating attention. It has shown me how desire with attachment to outcomes becomes a strong, single pointed focus – just as you would practice in meditation. The problem is you then manifest it. I have seen how I have been manifesting pain and suffering relentlessly. All of this. All of this pain have left me severely questioning the wisdom of Ayahuasca. It seems that whenever I engage my desire for something simple, something human – love, connection and sex – I am denied. To the point where it has brought me into the realms of psychiatry, as it seems the plants are unwilling to help and assist with my predicaments and I now am scheduled to have a psychiatric evaluation carried out – do what you fear ey? It goes further than that. Here I sit on the night where I have finally broken my resistance towards promoting myself. The pattern that obscured my actioning was seen, and understood in its complex simplicity. When an urge to create and claim a slice of life for myself arise, in the concrete manifestation of simply promoting myself, a thought arise in response. “The world is already enlightened, you are no longer needed” - typically this would occur in interpretation towards an article read, a sentence uttered or something similar. In effect it would serve enough of a distraction to keep me from doing what I intended. Then when I engage with life and start seeing evidence to the contrary that maybe there are people out there suffering, someone I could assist a replacement thought would pop up, typically identified through some sort of inspirational video, article, cartoon or similar: “Well there are plenty of people out there much better than you, more suited to take up the task”. Then more examples would follow that would indicate that maybe you know I could be of service to some at which point the voice would turn distinctly sinister “Well Dennis you are a shitty human being, look at all of this shit you can’t figure out about life, you are not fit to help anyone”. Which would then initiate a period of intense suicidality, self-absorbed victimhood and suffering. This pattern has been at times lasted weeks, if not months. But after I verbalised it to a good friend yesterday I have seen it manifest and resolve within the space of an hour, though the suicidality and “terrible human being” bit got channelled into actually getting a marketing post written. My biggest fear is a funny one. I am actually afraid that upon resolving this inner conviction that I am not worthy of life, that I have no function to fulfil (it is tricky dedicating your life to helping people out of suffering, if all the world is already there just waiting for me to resolve my own bull shit so we can move on) that the enlightenment of the world will ensue. I would thus manifest my deepest fear, a self-fulfilling prophecy. There is a lot of quirky stuff going on in my head (and oh my god don’t get me started on the bodily stuff), transformations and shifts in perspective are occurring at a rate I am so not accustomed to. I guess an apt analogy is that I have been thrown into a maelstrom in the middle of an infinite sea during a thunderstorm and am now learning to swim in these waters, slowly getting the hang of it. But there is a fierce willingness also arising. A willingness to experience more. Despite the intensity I want more from life. I can guarantee very little at present. The main thing I can say for sure is that I refuse to listen to the belittling voice within. I have empathy and compassion for why it arose. But I refuse to be worthless any longer.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8297989 https://www.dreamviews.com/blogs/vesterguard/diary-entry-1-example-integration-initiative-85757/

[fritalci]

2016 - A Great & Terrible Year.

Was 2016 my worst year ever or was it my best?

Actually, both.

Apparently, 2016 was the worst year ever for everyone I know. On new year's eve day, I found my news feed flooded with not so fond farewells to 2016. With the exception of two friends who had a baby, it seemed like most everyone had a bad year. Some of my friends shared their pains throughout the year: newly diagnosed depression, a miscarriage, desire for divorce, an ailment that caused one friend to drop out of a triathlon, a relationship tearing due to unacknowledged alcoholism, finding out a step mother was a heroin addict and had drained the family bank account. The list goes on. Some seemed to handle these stresses well (or they at least put on a strong show). Others were greatly affected. I, too, had my stresses. By all objective measures, it was my most difficult year. Seeing everyone post about what a bad year it was is making me wonder if I had a great year or a terrible year. Really. I’m not sure how to look at it.

2016 was a survival year for me. Dealing with my parents’ divorce, business cashflow issues, needing surgery, and a few other incredibly painful experiences just about put me over the edge. Though I think the weekend I spent in bed only getting up to get takeout or go to the bathroom might count as over the edge. Anyway. By all objective measures, none of the pains of 2016 were fun and I wouldn’t wish them on anyone. If I really examine my feelings, I don’t feel good about any of these things. They sucked. A lot. They took up a ton of my time and drained my emotions and energy, which I didn’t have in ready supply due to training for Ironman. By the time I got to Christmas I had zero enthusiasm for the holiday season. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love Christmas. This year I was 100% bah humbug.

On the other hand, I *think* I feel grateful for these experiences. I say think because if I’m truthful, I don’t genuinely “feel” grateful. The emotions and memories are still too raw. But when I think back, I’ve found a weird way of thinking/feeling grateful. Ironman training gave me a crazy number of hours to be alone and think. No headphones on my training rides, runs, and swims. All of that meditating time gave me the following:

“Just ship it”

I have a habit of aiming too much and not pulling the trigger soon enough. This year that habit went out the window. I was too busy putting out fires to deal with anything other than the essential. And you know what? Everything worked out ok. Things that I felt like I was half-assing ended up not needing any more than the half ass effort. I now find myself in a new venture half-assing everything on purpose. Prioritizing shipping over quality has produced more results, and better results, in less time than I would have expected. Now I prioritize shipping instead of quality and I’ve been blown away at not only how much I’ve produced, but how little the “poor” quality has had an effect. In some ways, I feel like I’m cheating. Which gets me to my next point.

“Get up. Get going. Keep going. Don’t Stop”

Pain, setbacks, confusion, and loss typically have a negative effect on my energy and effort. I seem to need a lot of recovery time. Where others thrive on chaos and disorder, I find it paralyzing. Well, this year I didn’t have a choice. Everything had to get dealt with whether I liked it or not. It feels like I developed a way to disassociate from the pain. Ironman training deserves a lot of credit for this. Training for Ironman was not fun. The hours were similar to a full-time job. I was constantly tired. Yet the schedule demanded I train even if I was tired. “You feel tired? Fuck your tired feelings. Get up, get going, keep going, and don’t stop until you finish your training plan.” I thought I knew how to push myself. But I had no idea I was capable of this level. Learning how to push myself in my most exhausted state is something I’ll forever be grateful for. Even if the experience totally sucked.

“Whatever happens, I’ll handle it and I’ll be ok”

Thus far, I’ve generally tried to stick to things that are within or at least near my core competencies. I’d like to think that things that are outside of my wheelhouse get extra attention and focus. Though if I’m being honest, what really happens is that I avoid those things and only do them if I absolutely have to. That whole “build the wings as you fall” thing might work for other people, but it doesn’t work for me. Or so I thought. Turns out I’m actually a good enough mid-flight mechanic. Constantly facing issues that were outside of my comfort zone redrew the borders of my comfort zone. Now, I feel like I can handle anything. It might not go perfectly, but I’ll be fine. Even if I totally fuck it up, I will be totally fine. 

Flexing the “No” muscle

With my plate more than full, I simply didn’t have the bandwidth for much extra. I failed some of my friends. I worked less than usual. But what’s most memorable about that full plate is how it forced me to say “no”. I’ve never been comfortable with no. I once worked in a restaurant where the managers used to hammer into our heads a service saying that sticks with me to this day: “the answer is yes, what’s the question?” Well, that’s fine and good if you’re working in a restaurant that charges more money for dinner than most people spend on their car payment. But it is a recipe for disaster in most other parts of life. So much so that I once got fired from a job because I never told my boss no and ended up sinking under the weight of the responsibility. In 2016 that all changed. I developed a phrase mid-training run that changed everything for me: “that doesn’t work for me.” If someone wants something from me that I either don’t want to do or can’t do, I just use that phrase. Admittedly, saying “no” would be more direct. I’m not there yet. But that phrase allows me to basically say no without the negative feelings that usually come from it. Is it perfect? No. But it fits the “just ship it” ethic and gets me what I need. Problem basically solved. Keep going.

“That’s not my problem”

Much of my ability to “say” no also stemmed from deciding, as Mark Manson would say, what to give a fuck about. All around me, there are problems. Friends with problems. Clients with problems. Shit, a whole city/state/country/world with problems. Some of those problems are mine. Most are not. So I deal with what I can and leave to fate what I cannot. The alcoholic’s prayer comes to mind. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” This left me with a lot of guilt. I felt guilty for not being super proactive and helping everyone as much as I would have like to. And you know what happened? Nothing. Nothing bad happened. I didn’t help and everything worked out just fine. In the process, I learned a new way of helping. First, I wait to be asked. Sometimes people just want to vent. And then if/when they ask for help, I can truly evaluate if I want to instead of just automatically trying to be some sort of uncalled for superman.

“What needs to be done by me?”

My limited bandwidth and energy also helped me realize how much time and energy I was spending on things that I didn’t personally need to do. “Can I pay someone to handle this?” became my new favorite phrase. I hired freelancers. Some sucked. Some were great. Two, in particular, blew me away with their talent. Stephen Covey talks about Roles and Goals in 7 Habits. 2016 gave me a chance to put it into action. “Your goal is this. Here’s your budget and timeline. Call me if you have issues.” That was basically my HR strategy last year and it worked like a charm. Do I personally need to oversee packing the moving van? No, the friends who are helping me have moved plenty of times. Do I personally need to buy supplies for the house? No, I can just give someone in the house authority to just buy stuff and send me receipts for reimbursement. Now, before I do something, I ask myself if someone else can do it “good enough”. Not “do it as well as I’d do it”, but “do it well enough so that I can focus on what only I can do”.

There were a few other smaller lessons, but these are the most memorable.

So now I’m left with seemingly conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the emotional experience of 2016 sucked. I basically slept all of December and am riding through January mostly on the excitement of my impending trip to Asia. I lack the literary powers required to describe how tired I am. On the other hand, I do genuinely feel grateful for these lessons. I’m incredibly grateful for the ways that I grew and matured. F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” I don’t know about that F., but I get where you’re going with it. My ability to function certainly improved. And maybe, much like the training pain required to grow as an athlete, emotional growth requires emotional pain. It also requires healthy recovery. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have some vacation planning to finish and some gratitude to express for my many frequent flier miles.

[astralsecrets]

Diary entry 1 - example for integration initiative

Non-lucid – Notes – lucid – Interpretation 2018-11-13 00:21 So to take charge on the dreamwork project with healing rejser I have decided to run it myself, though I feel somewhat tired. I don’t know where to start. It feels as if identification with psychological self is falling away. Over the past couple of days I have experienced that with every thought arise a history, a narrative a person-in-potentia. It is falling away and I realise myself to be infinitely broader than whatever thought, feeling or sensation that arise, yet I am also Dennis, an embodied, carnal and emotional being just the same. I have experienced anger towards Cecilie culminating in an experience of being hurt. Simply hurt. The numbness and stupididty I felt when realising that is all I had been fighting to feel, all my anger towards her was trying to repress and what the suicidality was an expression of left me giggling, free and confused. Speaking off. There has been much confusion. Mainly as I have found little to be ecstatic or happy about, no mission nor direction. Thus meaninglessness and confusion. When I felt the hurt with regard Cecilie I started crying and placed myself down on a carpet. I saw myself a fetus in the womb of my mother and it felt as if I sent a team of light beings, angels to remind the fetus in the past that it was forever loved, before I took it and placed it firmly in my chest, now giving it love from myself to myself. I want to try out permaculture, more embodied, more giving a shit about my daily life and the planet on which it occurs. No longer a saviour project (attachmentto the recognition associated with such an endeavour), but simply because I miss trying out more contact with nature in a responsible way, the way of a custodian. I have felt curiosity about people. Like genuine curiosity, notable due the absence of trying to bring the conversation around to be about me. Either in terms of “I have tried something similar, when...” or “I totally get that, maybe you should look at it like… to….” or simply to demonstrate cleverness a hungry and hurt yearning for recognition, a desperation for fulfilling a hole that was futile from the beginning. I have seen the source, understood the principles by which the conditioning arose and battled myself to eternity to cling on to it, but it is faltering. I have experienced the depths of despair, isolation and loneliness driving my thoughts into suicidal contemplation ever so more specific and concrete, to the point that I just 2 days ago considered writing my departure letter as a way of examining why I was thinking about quitting it all. This pain has driven me through profound anger at my heart, my soul and God. I have been piss fucking irritated at my soul and God for not really appreciating the nature of a mortal being and selfishly deciding to put a poor human being, and not only me, through whatever hurts simply so they can learn a lesson or two from an immortal perspective. Funnily enough this anger was followed by what seemed a remark from Raphael “you have a point you know”. I have been angry at my heart as I thought that was a spot in which I was supposed to find rest, but the more I dive in the more it screams “BRING ME YOUR SUFFERING” as it spreads out tentacles digging up collective emotional bull shit that is lingering below the surface and causing all sorts of havoc, wanting to feel it so it can be released. What a dick that heart of mine! In my moments of darkness the room has literally seemed to go black and a voice have whispered “Well if you don’t need that soul...”. I guess if you open for angels, you open for all of them. Yet then in meditation the whispers of Ganesh have imparted me teachings of regulating attention. It has shown me how desire with attachment to outcomes becomes a strong, single pointed focus – just as you would practice in meditation. The problem is you then manifest it. I have seen how I have been manifesting pain and suffering relentlessly. All of this. All of this pain have left me severely questioning the wisdom of Ayahuasca. It seems that whenever I engage my desire for something simple, something human – love, connection and sex – I am denied. To the point where it has brought me into the realms of psychiatry, as it seems the plants are unwilling to help and assist with my predicaments and I now am scheduled to have a psychiatric evaluation carried out – do what you fear ey? It goes further than that. Here I sit on the night where I have finally broken my resistance towards promoting myself. The pattern that obscured my actioning was seen, and understood in its complex simplicity. When an urge to create and claim a slice of life for myself arise, in the concrete manifestation of simply promoting myself, a thought arise in response. “The world is already enlightened, you are no longer needed” - typically this would occur in interpretation towards an article read, a sentence uttered or something similar. In effect it would serve enough of a distraction to keep me from doing what I intended. Then when I engage with life and start seeing evidence to the contrary that maybe there are people out there suffering, someone I could assist a replacement thought would pop up, typically identified through some sort of inspirational video, article, cartoon or similar: “Well there are plenty of people out there much better than you, more suited to take up the task”. Then more examples would follow that would indicate that maybe you know I could be of service to some at which point the voice would turn distinctly sinister “Well Dennis you are a shitty human being, look at all of this shit you can’t figure out about life, you are not fit to help anyone”. Which would then initiate a period of intense suicidality, self-absorbed victimhood and suffering. This pattern has been at times lasted weeks, if not months. But after I verbalised it to a good friend yesterday I have seen it manifest and resolve within the space of an hour, though the suicidality and “terrible human being” bit got channelled into actually getting a marketing post written. My biggest fear is a funny one. I am actually afraid that upon resolving this inner conviction that I am not worthy of life, that I have no function to fulfil (it is tricky dedicating your life to helping people out of suffering, if all the world is already there just waiting for me to resolve my own bull shit so we can move on) that the enlightenment of the world will ensue. I would thus manifest my deepest fear, a self-fulfilling prophecy. There is a lot of quirky stuff going on in my head (and oh my god don’t get me started on the bodily stuff), transformations and shifts in perspective are occurring at a rate I am so not accustomed to. I guess an apt analogy is that I have been thrown into a maelstrom in the middle of an infinite sea during a thunderstorm and am now learning to swim in these waters, slowly getting the hang of it. But there is a fierce willingness also arising. A willingness to experience more. Despite the intensity I want more from life. I can guarantee very little at present. The main thing I can say for sure is that I refuse to listen to the belittling voice within. I have empathy and compassion for why it arose. But I refuse to be worthless any longer.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8297989 https://www.dreamviews.com/blogs/vesterguard/diary-entry-1-example-integration-initiative-85757/