#unfortunately that also means she drags others with her on her downward spiral | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bratkook · 4 years

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not yet. jjk

not yet, almost, right now pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, some angst, pg-13 word count. 4.1k warnings. mentions of infidelity, some feelings come to light, unrequited pining, spur of the moment kissing, light grinding on the dance floor, jungkook pops a boner and wants to cry</3 summary. jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship note. this is based off a request sent a while back for numbers #43 and #67 from this prompt list! (i think this might turn into a small drabble series...mayhaps)

Jungkook can spot your discomfort easily, the occasional colorful light bouncing off your face showing him the flash of anger in your eyes. The only reason he’s not currently running for the hills, knowing very well how mean you can get when angry, is because your glare isn’t being sent at him. Not yet at least.

Because of this, he allows himself to enjoy the cute way your nose scrunches up, lips twisting in displeasure as you stare at the crowd of people, eyes locked onto an unlucky bystander. Honestly, he wishes he could hear your thoughts, wanting to know exactly what has your panties in a bunch, ruining your mood instead of letting you enjoy the expensive fruity drink he had just bought you as payment for allowing him to drag you out of the house. Jungkook isn’t a mind reader though, so he decides on his next best option.

“Who’s got you looking all sour?” he sighs, resting his elbow on the counter of the bar as he inches closer to you, head at your level in an attempt to match your line of sight.

“Him,” you seethe, brows pinching together, showing those light wrinkles in between them, a product of how expressive you were and definitely something Jungkook always teases you about.

Jungkook can only hum in question, eyes squinting in the low light as he attempts to find the him you’re talking about. With a slight turn of your head, you’re inches from Jungkook’s cheek, the obvious look of confusion etched onto his soft features letting you know he was absolutely lost. With a soft huff your fingers are gripping his cheeks and moving his face in the right direction, free hand pointing as discreetly as you could to the man in question.

You know he spots him, you can feel his jaw tense underneath your grip. What you don’t feel is the sudden guilt that fills him up, sloshing in his stomach and mixing with the liquor he just drank until he feels a little queasy. Jungkook instantly regrets coaxing you out of your little dungeon with the promise of cheering you up. If he had known the spawn of satan–dubbed your ex boyfriend and also the reason why you were in a downward spiral–would be here, he would have just let you rot in your bed like you originally wanted.

“Do you wanna go?” he mutters out, cheeks still squished by your slowly tightening grip, and he begins to accept the fact that you might just break his jaw right now. It’s fine, he thinks, he deserves it.

“No,” you grunt stubbornly, fingers finally releasing him as you turn back around and choose to face the endless amount of bottles behind the bar. He may be the reason you were currently on a never ending cycle of watching sad, heartbreaking chick-flicks from the early 2000’s, dumping you with the lame excuse that you two were on different paths and he just wasn’t ready for commitment. It’s something you accepted, albeit jaw tense and eye twitching as you did so, but you figured you would eventually find your way back to each other.

Your mind was warped, believing you were meant to be, that this was just a mere bump in the road that you would laugh at together in the future.

That is, until he blocked you on all social media, and you had to hear from your best friend that he had moved on days later and was now with some blonde-haired, fresh faced, supermodel-esque woman that you could not get yourself to hate. Instead you took to endlessly scrolling through her instagram while you stuffed your face with milk chocolate and questioned why you had ever convinced yourself that you had a future with him.

“Good, he’s a dick and you shouldn’t let him ruin your night.” Jungkook grumbles, slinging his arm around you as you hold your forgotten drink by your lips. He had seen your relationship with Hajoon play out from the very beginning, knowing slightly more intimate details than he would like considering you were next door neighbors and happened to share a wall between your bedrooms.

The friendship you had with Jungkook blossomed right after you moved in four years ago, friendly neighborly talks morphing into actual conversations, and eventually inviting each other into your apartments where you would attempt to beat him at any game you had in your Nintendo switch. It was a great dynamic, providing the two of you with a sense of relief after your busy days at work.

Unfortunately, the second you got with Hajoon was the end of any of those playful matches, your ex’s jealousy making you distance yourself in an attempt to keep your relationship at bay.

Jungkook can’t say he didn’t see it coming, having heard the way you’d cry anytime you had an argument and your ex would leave, slamming the door behind him so hard Jungkook’s walls would rattle. It had become such a common occurence it was a shock he hadn’t marched out of his house, met Hajoon in the hall, and gave him a clean right hook in your honor.

He was secretly hoping you’d break up with the jerk for your own good–and maybe for his own personal reasons too. Your ex was right in being wary of Jungkook, knowing the way a boy's mind worked, sensing Jungkook’s feelings for you in a way you were too blind to see. Jungkook wasn’t a dick though, he could tell you wanted your relationship to work so he kept his distance.

When weeks went by without the sight of him he began to think you finally did it, a call for celebration that made him want to go over to your place to challenge you for a friendly match of Mario Kart like you used to.

Until he ran into you in the hall and took note of what a mess you were, his smile falling from his face when he saw how defeated you looked.

Your shameful confirmation that you had been royally dumped made his heart twist for you, his selfless tendencies urging him to help you feel better in any way he could. You were thankful for it, grateful that he was keeping you company while you moped around, providing you with just the right amount of distraction to allow you to breathe and slowly heal.

Honestly, today would have been just another day if it wasn’t what was supposed to be your two year anniversary. The second Jungkook heard the telltale sounds of The Notebook starting up in your bedroom—something he hadn’t heard through the drywall separating your rooms in weeks—is when he knew something was up.

Jump to: now.

With Jungkook looking sheepish and wishing he had chosen another bar, and you gripping the cup so hard it was a shock it hadn’t shattered in your grasp.

“He’s with her,” you whisper out harshly, head downcast, swirling the liquid around in your glass as you force yourself not to look back at them. The vision of them coddled up in the corner, her arms wrapped around his while she laughed at whatever he whispered in her ear had stung enough the first time, you weren’t jealous but the pain still lingered inside of you..

“Just try to ignore him. Don’t let it bother you,” he attempts to reassure you, the bass of the music muffling the way you try to deny the fact that you’re clearly upset, his attention now elsewhere.

Jungkook takes a chance and looks back once more, eyes narrowed as he searches for Hajoon in the crowd. He spots him with more ease the second time, seeing the way he lazily drinks from his glass while the blonde rests her head on his shoulder, lips moving as she tells him something that makes him smile.

“Oh shit,” Jungkook chokes, eyes widening slightly in shock when Hajoon meets his gaze. He’s been caught, too late for him to avert his eyes and pretend he wasn’t blatantly staring. He can only give him a tight-lipped smile that he hopes doesn’t come across as an invitation to come say hello.

“What?” you question, turning to stare at Jungkook and seeing the look on his face, doe eyes swirling with a mix of emotions.

“He saw me,” he speaks through clenched teeth, lips barely moving as he does so, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“What?” you repeat harshly, setting the drink back down as your palms grow clammy, finger tugging at your shirt’s neckline when the air becomes thick and stuffy.

“Oh fuck, he’s coming.” Jungkook throws back the remainder of his drink, grimacing at the burn lingering in the back of his throat before placing the cup down. “Just follow along,” he whispers into your ear, standing tall as Hajoon approaches the two of you.

He’s ballsy, Jungkook will give him that, more so when he completely ignores Jungkook in favor of calling out your name.

“Y/N, oh my god is that you?”

Jungkook can’t stop the way he glares at the bastard, not even the small jab to his side that you deliver with your elbow is enough to wipe the look off his face. Still, you pause to breathe, shutting your eyes briefly before plastering a look of surprise on your features as you turn around to face him.

“Hajoon, what are you doing here?” Your voice has risen a few octaves, pitch surpassing the normal customer service voice and entering unhinged and borderline crazed territory. Hajoon doesn’t notice though, and neither does the girl strapped to his side, the two of them smiling at you and not giving Jungkook a glance.

“Oh, we’re just celebrating our four month anniversary.” The girl finally speaks up, giving Hajoon a kiss to the cheek and completely missing the way your face instantly falls. Her innocent statement has you coming to the sudden realization that this son of a bitch had been cheating on you for the last two months of your relationship.

Jungkoon spots it easily though, can sense the way your body tenses up beside him, no doubt will the rage flare up in the form of hot tears spilling over and onto your cheeks soon. One look at Hajoon’s pleased face is enough to not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the way he affects you.

“Young love,” Jungkook sighs, long arm pulling you into his side obnoxiously, seeing the way Hajoon eyes the two of you carefully. “I can relate. We’ve been together for...what is it again babe, five months?”

Hajoon doesn’t even attempt to be discreet, eyes bulging out and fist curling at his side. He had hated Jungkook the second he met him, intimidated by his physique and the way he made you laugh with ease, threatened by him in every sense. It was the reason he told you to cut ties with him, his fragile ego not trusting your neighbor, fully convinced all Jungkook would have to do was beckon you over for you to leave him.

Any man would feel threatened by him, just looking at him now with his long hair framing his face, the challenging glimmer in his eyes as he gauges the other’s reaction. Hajoon follows Jungkook’s arm, seeing how it snakes around your body and settles with his palms curling around your waist, fingers gently squeezing your skin.

Jungkook chuckles when Hajoon meets his gaze once more, free hand adjusting the yellow tinted sunglasses perched on his head—something that should make him look like an A class douchebag, because who the hell brings shades to a fucking club. But like all things, Jungkook makes it work.

All of this tied in with that small, white lie, makes Hajoon’s head spin in a jealous whirlwind. It was fine and dandy if he cheated on you but how dare you give him the same treatment, with your neighbor of all people.

“Five months?” He bites first, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of you.

The insecurity is written all over his face, it almost makes him shrink in size and for some reason it fills you with confidence. You stand taller now, sliding your own arm around Jungkook’s side as you nuzzle into him.

“Almost six.” Those two words are the nails into his coffin of insecurity, probably increasing his trust issues for years to come, but considering it was no longer your problem, you don’t care.

“Wow, almost half a year. That’s so cute, isn’t it?” His girlfriend coos, perfectly manicured hand placed over her chest, totally missing the way Hajoon looks like a kicked puppy.

Now that he doesn’t have the one up, he’s no longer interested in sticking around, the gross green monster perched on his shoulder laughing at his misfortune.

“Adorable,” he grunts out. “We should get back to our table. It was nice seeing you.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before walking away, his girlfriend giving you a small wave before following behind him. The growing distance between you makes your muscles relax, sagging in relief as you release Jungkook’s side and hunch over the sticky bar.

“I think I'm gonna puke,” you groan out, eyes going crossed when you feel Jungkook rest two fingers against your lips, sending him a questionable stare.

“Please don’t, that drink was expensive. You’re only allowed to hurl as the grand finale of the night, and we’re just getting started.”

Jungkook smiles when you shut your eyes and groan, your mood was already down in the dumps, and despite the small rush you got from putting Hajoon in his place, you were still craving the comfort of your bed. “Can we go?”

The bartender proceeds to place a glass of water in front of you, assuming your slumped state was due to intoxication and not the gross remnants of running into an ex-boyfriend. You grab the glass regardless, taking a big gulp of the cool liquid and sighing when it helps calm you down.

“If you really want to go we can, but at least try to loosen up.” His smile is genuine, cheeks pushed out as he looks down at you with kind eyes. “We’ll stay on the opposite side, and if you’d still rather watch the Notebook for the millionth time, we can do that.”

With a half-hearted groan you nod, allowing Jungkook to order another round of drinks for you to enjoy before eventually dragging you out onto the dance floor. He knows how to keep the atmosphere up, goofy smile on his lips as he bobs his head along to the loud beat, hands clasped with yours and wiggling in time to the music.

“You love this song,” he manages to say through the noise, pulling you closer as he settles into a spot on the decently packed floor. You couldn’t even deny it, he heard just how often you played it through the paper thin walls. That playlist full of hit 2000’s songs was your guilty pleasure, and it was the main reason he had decided to bring you to this club on their themed night.

Jungkook was attentive, he knew so much about you and played it off casually, always listening to things you say you enjoy, storing them into a folder labeled under your name and shoved into a very important part of his brain.

You knew he was trying his best to get you to enjoy yourself, so you give in, beginning to sing along to the lyrics of an old song that brought back a flood of memories that made you smile back at him. Jungkook feels the first burst of success bloom inside him, joining in with your singing, raising up your clasped hands as you begin dancing.

The smile doesn’t leave his face as he stares down at you, the few drinks you’ve had loosening you up and allowing you to push the earlier thoughts away. He feels mesmerized, eyes locked onto you, the flash of colors painting your skin, illuminating you in alternating shades of purple and blue. His heart does that annoying thing where it skips and stutters in his chest, mouth drying up as you drop your head back and sway your hips, slowly loosening the grip in your hands and turning around until your back is dangerously close to his chest.

Jungkook’s hands hover in the air for a moment, panic over taking his brain as he tries to remain calm. He could do this—he has done this before—the two of you would go clubbing before you got with your ex, and dancing definitely played a big part of it. So why was his brain short circuiting?

Sure your ass was brushing up against his crotch with each sway of your hips, but you were dancing, so his mind and his dick could fuck right off. He shakes his head to clear any dirty thoughts as his hands loosely grip your hips, testing the water, and when you smile and look back at him he feels less wary and sways his hips in time with yours.

You can feel his chest brush against your back, breath fanning along your skin from his close proximity, only getting closer when you lift an arm back and hold his shoulder to pull him tighter against you. The heat sticks to your skin, thin shirt dampening with sweat from the warmth of the bodies around you, everyone in their own state of drunkenness as the bass flowed through their chests.

Going out like this had been something you missed, used to frequenting the bars and clubs by your apartment with your friends and Jungkook, something that came to a halt because your ex claimed he hated that kind of scene. Something that was clearly a lie considering he was here now, enjoying himself as him and his new girlfriend danced along.

You didn’t realize when he made his way onto the dance floor, enough distance separating you, but now that you had spotted him you feel like he’s way too close for comfort. In a similar position to you and Jungkook, Hajoon is free to look around while his girlfriend dances on him, eyes locked onto you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl.

Jungkook is too lost in the music to notice where your attention has gone, earlier effects of the alcohol settling into his bloodstream, warming him up in that familiar way he welcomes. When the song changes, flowing into the next bass heavy anthem, you turn around in his grasp, giving him a brief glance before your hands are gripping his cheeks and bringing him down into a messy kiss.

This is definitely something he’s never done with you before.

A muffled sound of confusion is swallowed by you as he quickly falls into the motion, large palms gripping your hips, slowly sliding up your back before lightly tangling into your hair to deepen the kiss. Jungkook can taste the liquor on your tongue, mixing with his own as your tongue slips between his lips. He has no idea what came over you but his racing heart and buried crush don’t let him question it, soft lips smacking with yours, not heard between the thrumming music.

Your fingers feel the warmth of his cheeks, how he blushes into the kiss but you attribute it to the alcohol pumping through him. Harsh breaths fan across your face as he groans, lightly pulling back for a gasp of air but you don’t allow it. “No, don’t pull away. Not yet.”

And who is he to argue with that, blindly letting you bring your lips back together in a messy kiss. Your small pleas for him to continue has all the blood rushing to his cock, the ache felt in his jeans when it starts to harden, pressing into the denim uncomfortably and only getting worse when you gently bite down onto his lip before inching back.

“Is he still looking?” you question, breath jagged as you peer up at Jungkook’s dazed expression.

“What?” he dumbly replies, lips swollen and shiny, eyes still focused on your own as he makes an attempt to reconnect your lips. But then your question dawns on him, like a bucket of ice cold water, it sobers him up instantly. Is he still looking?

This was all for show.

“He’s on the far right.” You motion your head in the direction and observe his face when his eyes move over to check if Hajoon was in fact still there. He does spot him heading out in a hurry though, girlfriend trailing behind him as he exits the club entirely

“No, just saw him leave.” Jungkook clears his throat, fingers slipping out of your hair and settling down over your back just like before. He hopes his solemn expression isn’t amplified by the lights flashing across his face, trying his best to act unaffected, as if he didn’t just pop a boner on the dance floor over a revenge make-out session.

Luckily you don’t spot his fallen expression, a wide smile spreading across your face in victory, happy that you had successfully put him in his place.

“I’m so sorry for kissing you.” You gasp in realization, unknowingly pouring salt in the wound when you act as if kissing him was something you would never do if it wasn’t in an attempt to piss off your ex.

“No, it’s okay,” he waves off and smiles, eyes glancing over to the bar once more. Jungkook needed a drink, maybe five—actually he wouldn’t mind going home and watching The Notebook now, that would surely give him a reason to cry with no questions asked.

He starts to walk back to the bar with you by his side, the sad look you had earlier entirely gone, replaced with a giddy smile and a pep in your step, so he can’t say he's too upset.

“God, you should’ve seen how mad he looked when he saw us dancing together,” you giggle, standing inches from him as he orders another drink. Before he can respond, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for a hug.

A hug, really?

Still, Jungkook sighs and wraps his own arms around your waist, a defeated smile on his face that he hides as he lets his chin rest over your head. The dip in his head makes the yellow tinted frames fall over his eyes and when he pulls back you snort at the visual, finger gently poking the bridge of them.

“You look good in those.”

His drink gets placed in front of him then, giving him a good excuse to avoid stumbling over his words from your compliment, choosing to take a gulp of the hard liquor, wincing when it burns his throat. “Thank you,” he rasps out, grimacing at the taste and it just makes you giggle.

“I should be thanking you. You need to be my fake boyfriend more often.”

Even more salt poured into his wound, topped with a dash of lemon juice in the form of your playful smile and nudge to his ribs, it stings. His heart ache in his chest, more so when he realizes his stupid boner was still going strong. Thankfully the dark lights prevent you from seeing it, the last thing he needed was further embarrassment.

The yellow frames are placed back over his head as he takes another sip, nodding along to your statement with what he hopes comes across as a genuine smile on his lips once he sets his cup down. “Anytime you want Y/N.”

“I know this night didn’t end with the grand finale of me puking, but do you wanna go home and watch movies? No sappy romance ones, I'm not in the mood for crying anymore.”

He finishes his drink with ease, quickly closing his tab as he agrees. “Yeah, just let me go to the bathroom real quick.”

You might not be in the mood for crying but he definitely was; he also needed to handle the situation in his jeans, and what better night to stoop this low than tonight. His own version of a grand finale coming in the form of jerking off in the dirty bar bathroom while maybe shedding a tear or two.

“Okay! I’ll call an uber,” you announce cheerfully, allowing him to walk away as you settle onto one of the sticky bar stools.

Jungkook’s chest feels heavy as he walks to the bathroom, slipping into the small room and locking the door behind him. His forehead rests against the dirty door, eyes falling shut with a groan. He wishes he had the guts to confess to his crush, needing to push the fear of ruining the friendship away from his mind, wanting to gather possible clues that could indicate that you might feel the same.

One day, but not yet.

#ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #btsghostie #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #new

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wonder-kid-pugh · 4 years

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Coming Home for Christmas - (Mal Pugh x reader)

Mal loved Christmas

It was without a doubt her favourite time of the year. Every year it felt like she was 6 years old again as her excitement grew with each passing day getting closer and closer to Christmas. She just loved everything about it. The playing in the snow. Spending time with the family. Belting out the lyrics to Christmas songs. Drinking hot chocolate while snuggling up in front of the fire.

But what really made Christmas special was the people she spent it with.

One of the few downsides of being a professional soccer player is the lack of time. She spent so much of the year away from family and always training whether it be for club or the national team meant she didn't get to see her family as much as she would have liked. Not to say she regretted any of it. It was the one of the few sacrifices of being on one of the best teams in the world. No, what she regretted was the lack of time. She regretted how time seemed to slip by so easily. It just seemed to slip through her hands. She could do nothing but watch as it helpless slipped away.

But that's what made the holidays even better. She cherished the time she got to spend surrounded by her family and friends. It just made the holidays just so special no matter how stressful it was at times.

It was also a constant reminder of her relationship.

Y/n L/n has been in Mal's life since she was 6 years old. She has been there through the highs and lows of her life and her career. They had done practically everything together. Growing up she attended every single one of Mal's games and whenever she needed someone to help her practice Y/n was always there to fill whatever position was required. Y/n was Mal's first call after getting called up the National Team and you better believe your ass that Y/n was there in the front row cheering her on when she made her debut. It was only after Y/n surprised her at the game did she realised that she had fallen for her best friend.

Mallory had fallen and had fallen hard

So you can only imagine her delight when on Christmas Day 2017 after both being caught under the mistletoe together Y/n kissed her confessing how she's been harbouring feelings for the forward for a while now. Mal was so dazed by what was happening that she could only stare shocked at the poor girl leading her to believe she didn't feel the same. It was only when the girl started to stumble over her words apologizing profusely for her actions did Mal regain her senses and pull her back into a gentle kiss.

And that was the beginning of their relationship.

It also didn't hurt that it was the same day a year later that they told each other that they loved each other. Christmas for Mal was her favourite time of year for all those reasons. I mean how could you possibly hate Christmas after all that? She had everything she needed. But this year it was slightly different. She had the snow, she had the carols, she had the presents. She even had family.

But she didn't have Y/n.

See while Mal decided to join the Bruins and eventually The Spirit, Y/n enlisted in the Army. Ever since she was younger all she wanted to do was help people. She wanted to make people's lives better. She wanted to do some good in the world. So she became a medic for the Army. Running into battle to help the people who help serve and protect their country. And although it was tough they preserved. Y/n's selflessness was one of the reason she fell in love with her and as much as she hated being away from her, Mal knew that she couldn't stop Y/n from doing what she wanted to do and that was to help people.

She missed her girlfriend. But Mal knew that it wouldn't be for much longer. Y/n promised she would be here for Christmas. It was their holiday. She would never miss such and important day for the two of them. And she never breaks her promises. Which is why Mal as happy as could be answered the facetime request immediately after seeing her girlfriend's name flash on the screen.

She immediately stopped everything she was doing and smiled as she answered the facetime request. She practically squealed when she saw the image of her girlfriend who's been away from her for over a year now, "Hey Babe!" But her smile faltered when she saw Y/n give her a weak smile in return, "Hey Love". Mal scrunched up her eyebrows, "What's wrong?" Y/n sighed and bites the corner of her lip as she stares back at her long term girlfriend.

Immediately Mal knows something is wrong. Mal has known her girlfriend long enough to know that her has a habit of biting the corner of her lip when she's nervous about something.

Or something has gone terribly wrong

"What's wrong?" Mal asks as she frowns lightly at the screen. Y/n's shoulders slumped as she released a big sigh dragging her hand down her face. This did nothing to ease Mal's nerves, "Y/n?" Y/n looked sadly at the Mal as she wanted nothing more than to hug her in this moment after the disaster of a day she had today, "There was an attack on the base...".

Mal's eyes widen, "Oh my god! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She quickly shakes her head, "No! No I'm fine. Everyone's fine. A few bumps and bruises but nothing we can't handle". Mal could see Y/n look down no doubt playing with her fingers before she looked back up at her sadly, "The plane on base that was planning on bringing us home was damaged in the attack". Mal's breath hitched as Y/n continued, "It was the only plane on base at the moment and there's a storm incoming and they don't think they can get a plane here in time before it hits".

"What does that mean?" Mal asked her voice dropping to a whisper. She tried to look anywhere else but her y/e/c met Mal's brown orbs lacking their usual sparkle, "I don't think I'm going to be home for Christmas".

It was that moment that Y/n wished nothing more than to tell her it was a terrible joke. She could feel her heart break as she watched as Mal's face dropped. The smile that never failed to light up a room disappeared in a second.

And the worst of it all was the fact that there was hundreds of miles in between them stopping her from comforting the love of her life.

"I'm really sorry Love. But because of the storm they can't get another plane to get us home. And it means that they're short on medics so they need me to stay until they can get someone to replace me. I swear Mal if there was a way-" she tried to soften the blow as if it would relieve the forward in some way.

Mal could see how distraught the medic was at telling her the devastating news. She knew that she would rather give her left arm than miss Christmas at home. She knew that she was trying her best to seem okay for her because as much as Mal hated the idea of not being together for Christmas.

She knew that Y/n hated it more

"Babe?" Mal says stopping Y/n from her ramble before she went into a downward spiral. She tries to put on her most convincing smile as she looks at her through the camera, "Y/n it's okay. I-its okay really. There's nothing you can do about it. It's just really unfortunate timing". Her face softens as she looks at me sadly, "You know I'm going to do everything in my power to get back home to you as soon as possible right?" Mal smiles lightly, "I know".

It looked like she wanted to say more before her name was called sounding very urgent, "Shit Love I'm really sorry I have to go. His condition just dropped-". But I shake my head, "It's okay go save a life". She snorted at the saying her girlfriend had taken to telling her everytime she had to go away. She quickly kissed her hand putting it to the camera before quietly whispering, "I love you superstar". I smile at her softly, "I love you too Hero". She gave me one last smile before the call disconnected.

Mal sighed as she dropped her phone burying her head in her hands. The most important holiday of the year and she's missing the most important person in her life. Mal loved Christmas.

But this Christmas already seemed off to a bad start.

............

"Is everything okay Mal Pew Pew?" Sonnet asks as she dropped into the seat across from the sombre forward. Everyone noticed that the forward's mood had dropped significantly since the day before. Everyone knew how excited she got at Christmas. The already happy going forward just seemed to shine even brighter at Christmas.

So what happened between yesterday and now that made the forward do a complete 180?

"Yeah what's up? There's been something off with you since yesterday" Lindsey adds as the rest of the team listened in on the conversation. Mal just checks her phone once more only to see that there is still no new message from Y/n. The forward sighs as she runs her hand through her hair, "Y/n's base was attacked".

Everyone's eyes widen as they look at the younger player. "What? Is she okay?" Rose asks sitting up. Mal nods, "Yeah she's okay but she won't be home for Christmas". Everyone was silence. They all knew how important Christmas was for Mal and Y/n. They saw how much the two loved each other. They were the light of each others lives. And they knew how devastated they must be being away from each other at such an important time of the year.

"Awe we're sorry Mal" Christen says as she drops into the space beside the forward with Tobin right beside her as always. Mal shrugs trying to play it off, "It's okay. There's nothing we can do about it. Just really unfortunate timing". Nobody says anything knowing that nothing could make up for the loss of a love one on the holidays. All Christen did was pull the younger forward into a hug.

After all the hell that was the Corona Virus the team decided to hold a massive team celebration for the holidays. All the player's families were all going to join at the end of camp and all spend Christmas together. And while Mal was grateful she would be surrounded by so much friends and family, nothing could replace Y/n being there.

If only she knew how much Y/n was busting her ass trying to get home to her....

...........

Y/n stood back straight hands behind her back as the general looked her over. He eyed one of his top medic up and down, "Are you sure this is what you want?" But all she did was nod respectfully, "Yessir". Even though he look a bit reluctant he nodded nonetheless, "Although I don't like it". Y/n tensed up before he continued, "I respect your decision and understand why you want to". Y/n relaxed the tiniest bit as she nodded at her superior, "Thank you sir". He starts to nod before he starts filling out some paperwork, "Go pack your bags".

Y/n scrunched her face lightly, "Sorry sir? I don't understand". He just glances up at me with a small grin, "You have a plane to catch". He looks back down going back to writing, "You better hurry. The planes going to be here soon and you need to leave soon to beat the storm". You couldn't stop the smile spreading across the young medic's face, "Thank you sir. For everything". He looks up from his paperwork, "Go home to your girl L/n". Y/n gave him one last salute before rushing out to go pack her bags. The General shook his head with a small smile. Although he hated losing his best medic he knew that where she needed to be was home.

It was the best news she had ever heard. They were somehow able to scramble a nearby charter plane to bring some troops home. Y/n being one of them. Within 15 minutes Y/n had all her belongings packed and was running towards the plane which was scheduled to lift off in 2 minutes. She had just make it into the plane as they were about to lift off. As she had got on the plane she took out the small Polaroid picture of her and Mal. She smiles as she ran her thumb over the creased photo showing just how many times she had taken this photo out. She quickly placed a gentle kiss to the precious photo before tucking it away again and instead swapping it out for her phone.

It was a long flight home but it was okay because Y/n had some major stuff to plan and it would all be worth it in the end to be able to see Mal on Christmas Day.

............

"Christ" Y/n mutters as she pulls her jacket closer to her. Being away from home for so long she almost forgot how cold it was in her home state. However the cold Colorado weather did nothing to deter the medic though as she felt a wave of warmth flood through her as she knew she was so close to seeing her family again. She was close to seeing her Mal again.

Although it seemed like the world was against her today.

It was hard enough for Y/n to find a taxi to drive her to where she needs to be. She blamed it on the heavy snow falling and the fact that most people were probably at home, all bundled up in blankets surrounded by their loved ones enjoying one of the best holidays of the year.

Exactly where Y/n should be right now

Thankfully her prayers were answered as one car pulled over and allowed her in. She quickly told the driver where she was heading before slumping against the seat. They were driving comfortably for a while and Y/n struggled to sit still in the seat.

That was until she faced her next problem

"Shit.." the driver mutters quietly but Y/n was able to hear him over the popular Christmas songs playing quietly from the radio. Y/n leans forward, "What's wrong? Why are we stopped?" The driver gave her a sympathetic, "Sorry but the snow's too heavy and is blocking the roads causing traffic. It pretty much bumper to bumper right now". Y/n sighs as he turns to her fully obviously seeing how important it was for her to get where she needs to be.

Y/n flops back against the seats, "Fuck..."

.............

"Okay time to hand out presents!" Vlatko calls out to all the families scattered around the room. Mal grudgingly gets up from playing with Marley who had been doing well from distracting the girl from missing Y/n right now to now sit beside her sister as everyone moved to the Christmas tree they had set up.

Brianna who could see how much Mal was struggling to get into the Christmas spirit without Y/n present, "You okay?" Mal plasters on a fake smile even though she knows that her sister knows just how fake it is, "I will be". Brianna doesn't say anything and instead turns to her daughter who looks at her aunt confused tilting her head, "I think Aunt Mally needs a hug right now. Don't you think Marls?"

The small girl smile and jumps into her aunt's arms never one to deny a hug. Mal chuckles lightly as she hugs the small girl back, "Thanks Marls". Marley smiles brightly as she turns so she's sitting in Mal's lap as she starts to fiddle with the forward's fingers to keep her occupied.

Mal sat and watched as people one by one exchanged gifts which lifted her spirits the tiniest bit. The team had made it their mission to help their crestfallen teammate. They had done everything and anything which came with the perfect Christmas. They had baked cookies, made gingerbread houses, sang Christmas carols, built snowmen, everything. Which Mal appreciated very much as it relieved the ache in her heart slightly.

And before she knew it, it was her turn to pick presents. "Want to help me open my presents?" Mal asked the little girl in her lap who nodded enthusiastically. But just as they started tearing into the first present the door burst open.

Mal's face scrunched up as she heard her teammates gasp looking at something behind her. She shifts around turning to see how has her teammates attention. But her eyes widened as she saw who stood behind her staring straight at her.

Because there stood Y/n L/n

Brianna was the first to recover as she moved her daughter out of her sisters lap and into hers. At this Mal scrambled to her feet and ran into Y/n who had her arms open waiting for her. "Your here" Mal cried out into her shoulder as she clutched onto her for dear life, "your really here".

Y/n had never felt more complete in her life as she wrapped her arms around the girl she so desperately loved, "I'm here Love. I'm home". Hearing this Mal pulled back and kissed Y/n harder than she ever had before. In any other moment they would have been mindful that they were in a room filled with the family and friends but all that mattered in that moment was each other. After being away from each other for just over a year, all they cared about was that they were back in each others arms.

Once they separated Mal looked into Y/n's eyes as both their eyes started to water, "But how? I thought-you said you couldn't-". Mal just couldn't get the words out but Y/n chuckled, "Did you really think I wouldn't move heaven and earth to make it back to you for Christmas?" Mal laughs but as she wrapped her hand around her neck and Y/n held her face in her hands she flinched lightly, "Why are you so cold?"

Y/n looked a bit sheepish as she gave her a small smile and her cheeks flushed but Mal could tell whether it was from the cold or her question, "Well I was in a rush and I didn't get time to change. And then we got stuck in traffic and then the taxi broke down. So I kinda ended up running here".

Mal pulled back a bit shocked, "You ran here? Babe it's snowing outside!" "Oh trust me I know" Y/n laughed making her girlfriend shake her head at her in disbelief. "Beside" Y/n grinned, "it's not the first time I ran through a snow storm to tell you I loved you". Mal smiles at the memory of how when they first said that special 4 letter word with Y/n almost killing herself in the process as she ran through a snowstorm to Mal's house to tell her before Mal could even get a blanket around her to warm her up.

"Your so stupid" Mal mumbles as she brushes from snow out of Y/n's hair. But that doesn't stop the massive face splitting smile from spreading across Y/n's face, "I love you too". Mal smiles as she presses another kiss to her girlfriend's lips, "I love you more than anything in the world".

Mal took her girlfriend's hand and dragged her towards their friends and family, "Cmon let's get you warmed up". But they didn't make it far before something collided with Y/n's legs, "Y/n!" Y/n smiles as she picked up the small girl in her arms, "Hey Marls". The small girl tucked herself into the crook of Y/n's neck and she wrapped her arms around her neck in a tight hug, "I missed you". Y/n just kissed her head and hugged her back gently, "I missed you too Marley". "Not as much as me" Mal said quietly leaning into the medic's side causing her to wrap her arm around the soccer player.

After greeting her family and friends from her long time abroad she found her place right beside Mal as they resumed opening Mal's presents. The two were making sure that they were always touching in some sort of way as Marley help the two open Mal's presents. Once Mal opened her last present Y/n gave her a small smile, "I'm sorry I don't have a present for you..." But Mal simple shakes her head intertwining their fingers, "The greatest gift I could ever receive is having you home for Christmas".

Y/n smile brightly, "Well that's good because..." Mal frowns as Y/n detaches theirs and stands up in front of her for a second. But that all changes when Y/n bends onto her knee.

There was a pin drop silence as everyone watched in awe as Y/n pulled out a small box smiling at the forward who's eyes started to water once more with her hand clasped tightly in front of her mouth.

"Mallory Pugh" she starts, "you have been an essential part of my life since I was 6 years old. I couldn't possibly imagine my life without you there. Through the highs and lows, through the best and worst of times we have been there for each other. And the thought of not being home for Christmas with you made me realize something". She takes a deep breath as she sees tears stream down Mal's face, "I don't ever want to worry about missing another Christmas with you. I want to be home for every Christmas for the rest of our lives. I want to be there cheering you on at every match. I want to be the one you come home to and argue about with one of us do the dishes". Everyone laughs while Mal snorts remembering all the playfully arguements they have over who's turn it is to do the dishes only to end up doing them together in the end.

"I want to start a family with you. I want to give you all the things I promised you if you'll let me. So..". She opened the small box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring, "Will you, Mallory Diane Pugh, make me the happiest person alive and marry me?"

Mal doesn't even say anything and instead flings herself into Y/n's arms. The force of which sends the two of them toppling to the ground. But Y/n barely had anytime to recover as Mal smashed her lips against hers. They were vaguely aware that everyone else was cheering like mad for the young couple. When Mal finally broke the kiss, the two of them gasping for air, Mal nods frantically, "Yes. Yes! I will marry you". Y/n smiled before bringing her into another kiss.

As Y/n lifted them up off the ground they were immediately swarmed by their family. "It's about time!" Horace laughs as he hugs Y/n. Mal's eyes widen, "You knew?!" He shrugged sending a wink at the medic, "She's had our blessing since you were 18". Mal looked at Y/n who blushed, "I asked ages ago but I wanted to wait a little longer until we were both stable". Mal nods and interlocks their fingers kissing her cheek.

"So how long do we have you for?" Rose asked after looking at the ring perched on her friend's finger. Mal's smile falters slightly as she looks to her now fiancée. But Y/n smiles brightly down at her soon to be wife, "How about forever?"

Now this catches everyone's attention

"What?" Mal breathes out. Y/n smiles, "As of today I have been honourably discharged from service". Mal jumps up again wrapping her arms and legs around her, "Your staying?" Y/n nods kissing Mal's temple, "Forever Love. I'm staying forever".

Once again everyone smiles the young couple as Vlatko smiles, "I guess now is a good time to introduce our teams new addition to the medical staff". Everyone turns to Y/n who smiles. All the youngsters plus Kelley jump on top of Y/n and start cheering. "I'll also be taking over diets and fitness training alongside Dawn so I don't know if you'll be cheering for much longer" Y/n laughs.

Once everything gets back on track, Mal takes residences in Y/n's lap as they move onto Tobin's gifts. "I love you so much Superstar" Y/n whispers in Mal's ear as Tobin unwraps a new skateboard from Ash. "I love you too Hero" she whispers back. Y/n presses a kiss to Mal's shoulder as she wraps her arms around the smaller girls waist. This had to have been the happiest moment of their life so far. Nothing could top this not even winning a World Cup. But what did you expect.

They both loved each other more than they love Christmas

Hey guys!!! First off Merry Christmas or happy holidays!!! (Whichever). I wrote this a few days ago in the build up to Christmas and I hoped you enjoyed it. Christmas has always been a special time for me so I hope this brought you a little joy whether you celebrate the holiday or not. Even though it's been quite strange this year I hope you enjoy the day and get to spend it with the people you love. Anyways I hope you enjoyed. Once again Merry Christmas and until next time, bye!!!

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #mallory pugh imagines #mallory pugh #mallory pugh imagine #Mallory pugh x reader #mal pugh imagine #mal pugh x reader #mal pugh imagines

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bekahdoesnerdshit · 4 years

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anxiety boredom and mischief for raini, excitement sorrow panic and fright for ayen, impatience confusion disgust for cog!!

Raini

Anxiety: Anxious Raini is an irritated Raini, because like I’ve said before it is So much easier to be angry than to feel any other negative emotion. I also think an anxious Raini is a Raini who’s looking at a problem she can’t directly fix, because otherwise she’s not going to bother getting anxious when she can instead focus on getting results. Anxious Raini is fussing with the tassels on her robe, pacing, tugging at the end of her braid, glaring at people with 80% more heat than normal, just generally a ball of nervous energy. Times Raini has been anxious! Meeting Ecstasy’s parents and figuring out what that means! When we killed the goddess of magic and Raini realized she was suddenly a defenseless sack of hit points! End of list. Boredom: Bored Raini is a Problem. Like, Raini is generally a problem? But bored Raini is a problem (With a capital P and that rhymes with T and that stands for Trouble, I guess?). She gets huffy. Arms crossed, head falling back or to the side to show her Displeasure, rolled eyes, the whole nine yards. Bored because there’s nothing to do? Solution: find something to do! Probably, unfortunately, get off. Because she’s Nasty. Bored because someone is boring her? Make sure they Know that they are Boring, and trust that with enough sighing and raised, unimpressed eyebrows, they’ll fuck off. Mischief: Raini doesn’t get mischievous very often! Which means when she’s in a Mood, it’s an Event. I think there’s a lot of biting the inside of her cheek to hide a grin, a lot of glancing at any co-conspirator she may have, a lot of acting too casual, just to attract a little bit of suspicion and keep things fun. Did she and Yocheved fantasy spray paint a statue to Amaunator last night even though Lent told them not to? Of course not. Did she use a 9th level spell to Polymorph Zize to be about four inches taller, so she would bump her head on things every so often? Preposterous! That certainly doesn’t sound like something Raini would do. You can’t prove shit.

Ayen

Excitement: Excited Ayen is a bouncy Ayen! She’s walking alongside and then in front of whoever she’s with, hands clasped behind her back, ponytail swishing behind her, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she grins and looks back with wide, bright eyes! The world is in front of them! It’s here and it’s alive and their’s to explore! Why waste time dragging your feet? She’s already pretty energetic as is, but when she gets herself worked up like this? It’s best to just let her tire herself out and try to keep up in the meantime. Sorrow: For Ayen, the most concrete experience she has with sorrow is the subtle, aching thing that is her grief for a family she never got to know. It’s not the same as knowing and losing them, of course, but sometimes she feels like she grieves them in the same way. And she’s going to find them! Of course she is! It’s just...it might take a while. And what if she doesn’t? And what if they don’t want her when she does? It isn’t often, but I think Ayen gets wrapped up in that spiral every so often, especially when she’s taking watches alone and just has time to Think. I think her sorrow looks like droopy ears, chin on her knees, eyes cast downward. Managing a small smile for anyone who looks over at her, because that’s what they’re expecting, but letting it slip away again when they turn around. She’s quiet, for a while, until she gathers herself enough to shake off the funk and remind herself who the fuck she is. Panic: While short lived, panic is definitely something Ayen has experienced. See: when she went to fight those spiders in the middle of the night, missed, and then saw like three more pop up. Uh oh! I think there’s a fair amount of wordless yelling (along with swearing, but the question did specify ‘nonverbal’ so), fumbling with whatever she’s holding (a weapon, a glass bottle she wasn’t supposed to touch, etc.), and tripping over herself to put distance between herself and whatever’s scared her. Basically, I think she loses any semblance of grace she may have had, and turns into the living embodiment of “Oh shit FUCK ass BALLS uh shit fuck TITS” Fright: I’m going to differentiate “fright” from “panic” by approaching this one as a longer term sort of thing. I think growing up in the Shadowfell, it takes a lot to rattle Ayen in regards to traditional horror. Like, when you spent most of your life looking out your window to see the sentient shadow goop that makes up your backyard eating unlucky mortal travelers on the reg, anything else is kinda....eh? I think she also suffers from “haha this is an Adventure everything is fun and games!” disease, also called “not having the life experience to realize sometimes things are just actually fucked up and it’s not gonna turn out okay by default”. None of which answers the question, but is still true. I think if something really, deeply scared her, she would just shake. Her hands, her voice, everything. Ears pinned back against her head, eyes wide and darting around for something she can claim as “safe” to recenter herself, slow, careful steps away from the source of her fear as opposed to the scrambling from the previous question. But, of course, I’m sure it won’t ever come to this in game!!

Cog

Impatience: Not a very common Cog mood! She’s no saint, but if anything she’s usually the one slowing people down. And honestly, even if she’s not, she’s not generally in enough of a rush ever that it matters. I can think of a handful of times where she’s been impatient with someone, and both of those times were pretty different. As a rule, though, she defaults to this sort of tight lipped, tense, closed mouth smile, with varying degrees of warmth depending on how Frustrated she is. She crosses her arms, raises her eyebrows, looks between the person she’s waiting on and where they need to go or the door (but in a way she thinks is subtle, and probably isn’t), but generally just. Resigns herself to wait it out until the other person is done rambling or taking their sweet time doing whatever it is they’re doing. The only exception? When the party thought Ace might be double crossing them, and had spent So long dithering about whether to go back to New Alexandria to confront him. Cog had enough; she put her foot down and said she was going with or without the party so that she could prove his innocence. If they wanted to keep her alive, they could come too. Confusion: While the other two may be things that Cog has little to no experience with, she’s got confusion in the bag. Not to flex on anybody? But we’re confused twenty! four! seven!! Absolutely nothing sexier than a woman who’s always just a little bit out of it!!! Confused Cog is smiling politely, but she’s very obviously lost. She’s fidgeting with her hands somewhere low around her stomach, looking up at the people around her and kinda. Half reaching out every so often? Looking for a place to cut in to ask for clarification? Oh you’re still talking? No worries! I’ll wait. :) I hate to be mean to Cog, because I do love her, but also once she’s figured out she’s not getting caught up, it’s just elevator music up there. Someone -probably Wol- will get her caught up later, she’s sure! :)) Disgust: Cog has been outright disgusted once in her LIFE and it was when the party went to meet the Guardians -a group of gods that protect Lafaroh in exchange for occasional offerings- in the swamp outside the town. On their way to the Guardian’s meeting place, the party was attacked by some fucked up, homophobic scorpions which poisoned the Fuck out of Ace. The Guardians could fix him, but they did this by producing this alien? Bug? Thing?? That went inside Ace to clean the poison out. Nasty. Disgusting. Vile I hate it. Cog very nearly threw up I think, and dropped her first (and for a long time, only!) f-bomb of the campaign. It was a eyes wide, face pale, hand pressed to mouth, too horrified to look away kind of disgust. I think it was mostly luck that she didn’t actually throw up, because she has a weak enough stomach (read: low enough con) that it’s probably about 50/50. Similarly, in like the next session, Cog was the one to find the body of the headmaster of the Academy, and all she could manage was to tear her eyes away long enough to nod silently at the party, fighting rising bile the whole time.

#rainivere #amnesia campaign #creepy campaign #ayen morwraek #cog #wasteland campaign #answered #mine #sam says: ayen! lore! now!!!! and he's RIGHT #also? ask me about the homophobic scorpions if you want! it's pretty good Lore #spaghettoland

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namjuicyy · 4 years

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Forbidden - Chapter One

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst.

Genre of this part: Angst with a tiny bit of smut.

Word Count: 3.1k.

Summary: Prince Hoseok had never been told “no” until his father lay on his deathbed. Hoseok was ordered to marry, but his eyes were set on the one woman he wasn’t allowed to have.

WARNINGS: Mentions of depression; alcohol misuse; a dark period in Hoseok's life; mentions of underage sex (don't do it); womanising; corporal punishment; unprotected sex (keep safe, kids); fingering; choking; voyeurism; pussy slapping.

Previous / Next

Hoseok never wanted this. If he could he would have passed down his crown to his brother, the second he found out he was going to be the king one day. The whole idea scared him so much and the worst part about it was that he could never run away from it – he would never be able to escape the future that lay before him. He tried to run away once, but he was caught within the hour and scolded brutally. He was dragged back to the palace kicking and screaming and forced to face his reality that one day the fate of an entire country rested in his hands and surely, he'd fuck it up like he had everything else in his life up until this point.

Hoseok had always looked down on kings of the past who turned to drink, gambling and womanising, but when he found himself inside his first woman and he'd forgotten all else but the feel of her he'd become addicted to this form of escapism. And since he gave his virginity to the first woman who would accept his money at the age of 14, he found himself lost in various others almost daily since.

Prince Hoseok's bed was never cold – he would never allow it. He hated the idea of sleeping and waking up alone. He didn't care who he had in his bed with him, if there was a warm, naked body next to him it didn't matter. A lot of the time he'd drag his mother's lady-in-waiting into his bed, tangling himself up with her in the expensive Egyptian sheets and having his way with her two, possibly three times each night. But when she was unavailable, he'd find a replacement easily. Waking up that morning he found himself next to the fruitier, Jisoo. She was a beautiful woman, so naïve and pliant – the perfect submissive alternative.

Hoseok wrapped his arm around her naked body, holding onto her small frame like his life depended on it and affectionately peppered her skin with kisses. The way he acted anyone would think he was in love with her – but he was just affectionate which was a lot of the reason why he got into trouble. His gentility and kindness outside of sex was unprecedented; men simply didn't do it. So, he would accidentally make women fall in love with him due to his unique sweetness. Which, if you're fucking most of the palace staff, isn't the best thing to do. But Hoseok couldn't stop himself. He craved affection he never grew up with, and this was the only way he could get it; even if it meant breaking a few hearts along the way.

Jisoo stirred in his arms, stretching and giggling at the feel of his plump lips tickling her skin. "Good morning, Sir."

Hoseok didn't respond verbally. Instead he just slid his hand lower and lower until he reached her pussy still wet from the onslaught last night. She was so sensitive – so responsive to his touches. The minute his middle finger began to rub at her clit she was putty in his hands. She'd let him do anything he wanted.

Hoseok pulled the sheets off her, allowing him a little more freedom, and adjusted her body so she was half lying on top of him, her back pressed to his chest and her legs spread wide open for him. She was completely at his mercy. She felt his long, slender hand wrap around her throat while he played with her clit, his teeth biting gently on her ear. She was so close, Hoseok could tell. He knew her body like the back of his hand, he'd had her that often. He knew as soon as her moans reached a higher pitched, she was almost ready to cum.

A sensation that should have washed away as soon as Hoseok's younger brother walked through the door, but Hoseok felt Jisoo's pussy gush a little at the intruder.

"Another one, Hyung?" Jimin's eyebrows raised as he watched his brother continue to play with his latest toy. Jimin, at this point, was completely unphased by anything Hoseok could do, including bedding the fruitier and refusing to let her free until he'd had his way with her.

"I cannot help it." Hoseok replied. His voice was deeper than usual, and almost too quiet underneath the sound of Jisoo's mewling. "They fall at my knees begging me to fuck them. Don't you, baby?" His question was directed at Jisoo and punctuated it with a slap to her clit. He chuckled darkly at her stunned response, but ultimately knew the sweet, little fruitier loved to be roughed up a bit.

Jimin rolled his eyes and bent to pick up his brother's clothes. "Well, unfortunately you are going to have to put the staff down for at least an hour. Father wishes to speak to you."

Hoseok groaned, but not because of anything Jisoo was doing. He plunged his fingers inside her and began to finger her roughly, feeling her body jiggle above him in the best way. His brother was putting a dampener on things, though, and he could feel his erection slipping away. "Can't he wait?"

"If this conversation waits any longer, you'll be king." Jimin threw Hoseok's clothes to him. "Hurry up, would you?" And with that, Jimin left the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Hoseok withdrew his fingers from Jisoo and lay back, keeping her sat upright.

"The King wants me," he told her as though she'd not been in the room with them the entire time, "and I can't go to him like this."

"No, sir." Jisoo replied. Her voice was weak and hidden behind her pants.

"You are going to have to help me, baby. Make me cum and I shall reward you tonight."

He watched as his tiny lover crawled onto his lap and sank herself down onto his impressive length. She knew she was being used, but she also knew he'd make up for it eventually. So she did as she was told, and rode her prince in the way he liked – and as quickly as she could, too, knowing that if she made the prince late, she'd be punished – and not in the way she'd like to be.

Sure enough Hoseok came inside her – quickly filling her up with his seed until he was spent. He was numb to the feeling:he'd fucked so many times at this point orgasms were nothing more than just alittle tingling sensation that left him chasing something more gratifying thanwhat he'd been given recently. But it didn't matter how many girls he slept with, he could still never leave his bed satisfied and as a result would find himself buried deep within the walls of one of the palace girls praying that this time she'd fuck him well enough for him to be completely and truly spent.It was safe to say he was bored, but found it far too difficult to stop this downwards spiral he'd caught himself stuck in.

Hoseok's father was sick but was by no means deteriorating fast. The royal physician had given the King at the very least one year left ruling his country, so he had to make the most of it. This included preparing his eldest son and heir to the throne for the lifelong task ahead of him. The King was a tough man, a no-nonsense man with strong opinions and a ruthless demeanour but was the best ruler the kingdom had ever had. He was fair and just, and helped the country prosper in such a way the kingdom had never seen in its history. Hoseok had big shoes to fill and this was some of the reason why he was so petrified to assume his role.

Hoseok hated being summoned to his father's quarters. He always associated it with being told off as this was how his father would assert his dominance around the domestic household. If you were in trouble, you had to go to him and not the other way around. He rarely praised his sons – but would usually announce good news over the dinner table in front of the whole family and waiting staff, rather than in his private office. Growing up, Hoseok often found himself leaning on the King's desk to receive his corporal punishment. He could still feel the welts of his father's belt when he'd been returned to the palace after running away. So, Hoseok could feel the nerves bubbling up inside of him as he knocked on his father's office door and waited for the familiar deep rumbles of the invitation to enter - which was granted when the King wished to grant it. It had been common for the King to keep Hoseok waiting for half an hour before he had been allowed into the office. Another reminder that even his own son was at his disposal as and when he pleased.

Five minutes Hoseok waited for his father's invitation – he timed it on the grandfather clock sat outside the door. Hoseok's hand shook as he turned the doorknob and entered the office.

His father sat at the heavy, oak desk as he usually did; his face serious and his hands clasped together, allowing his chin to gently rest at the side. The King didn't look at his son once when he entered the room, nor did he acknowledge the formal bow Hoseok greeted him with.

"Sit." His father commanded.

Hoseok silently did as he was told.

His father's voice was quiet when he spoke. "Your mother was missing her lady-in-waiting this morning. But you would know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"Father, I-"

"Be still. Your King speaks." He cleared his throat. "When will this stop, Hoseok? Fornicating with the palace staff, disrupting the lives of everyone within these four walls with your dirty habits, and using the taxpayer's money to pay for whores. Do you have any idea what position this puts you in – this family in? If you behave like this now, how will you be when you become king? How can the public trust you when they know you'll spend their money getting your cock wet?"

"They won't."

"No – they won't."

"They won't have the option to not trust me. I won't be their king."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'll be abdicating as soon as you pass, Father. I will be handing the crown to Jimin."

"You'll do no such thing."

"I will. Jimin will be a much better leader than I will be – you know it just as well as I. He's never disappointed you, always played the dutiful prince and he knows how to lead in your footsteps. The country has always preferred him over me as have you, and I will not serve a people of whom I do not wish to serve!"

Hoseok's monologue was interrupted by a sharp pain across his cheek that turned into a burning sensation. He cradled his pain with his hand and looked up at his father who had delivered a harsh punishment to his son. Hoseok was no stranger to the odd slap here and there now that he was an adult, but it was still somehow so unexpected.

"You traitorous little snake! You pathetic little weasel!" His father hissed. "How dare you speak in that way about your kingdom – your people. You -" The King was himself interrupted by a coughing fit – one Hoseok had never seen before. His father had always managed to keep his illness private, even from his own family. The King was always a pillar of strength in the family and watching the King crumble meant that Hoseok's stability was getting more and more fragile with every dying cell. Hoseok handed his father a glass of water, who accepted it graciously despite being angry with his heir. Hoseok knew he wasn't meant to see the blood the King had coughed out into a tissue, but he saw it and there was no turning back from it. His father really was dying.

"You are going to do as you're told for once in your life, Jung Hoseok." The King commanded calmly as if nothing had happened. "When I die you will take my place and rule this kingdom. You don't have to like it – God knows I never did. Just please don't destroy everything this dynasty has built. You'll need to produce an heir yourself which means from now on I don't want you to share a bed with any women until you and your betrothed marry, understood?"

Hoseok knew better than to argue with his father, especially when he was in this state. He simply nodded.

"Good. Now," the King sat down behind his desk and offered a seat to his son, "the Princess Jieun of Brudosha will be arriving within the fortnight. You two will be married soon after whilst I'm still alive so I can make sure you've gone through with it."

"An arranged marriage?"

"Well, you've not fallen in love with an unmarried princess, have you?" Hoseok shook his head again. "Well then, an arranged marriage it is – like I had, and all your grandfathers and kings had before me. Her portrait paints her favourably so don't think so harshly of her. You won't get tired of looking at her, that's for sure. You are dismissed."

Hoseok knew he'd be forced into marriage one day. He knew he'd have to face up to the fact that he'd never fall in love and would never be able to keep her even if he did. But the reality of his future came crashing down onto him all in one go, and it felt like he was drowning in it. His father's death today had been made real by the blood on the tissue, and his future set in stone by a single portrait no doubt fabricated by the palace of Brudosha in order to sell their unwanted princess to the highest bidder. And Qedian had fallen victim to the scam. It seemed to be too much happening too fast.

Once again, Hoseok broke his promise to his father. Jisoo was in his chambers once he returned, still naked and soft from the morning's activities. He couldn't help it and found himself inside her quick enough, trying to achieve anything so long as he didn't think about the future.

Eunjae walked into your chambers carrying her final item of the morning to get you dressed and ready for another boring day in the palace while your husband worked himself to the bone. Some days you hoped for his death but would find yourself confessing to the nearest priest and begging for forgiveness. You wanted to be forgiven for your sins – but you meant every single one of them.

Eunjae did way more than any lady-in-waiting would have to do in any other palace. For you, personally, she was nearly every member of the household put into one. She was your butler, your confidant, your best friend, your sister, your lady-in-waiting, your dressmaker and mender, your stylist. So, every morning she would bring in a wheeled tray fashioned by the woodworkers in town to bring you everything you needed first thing in the morning; your breakfast, wash kit and even your mail. You rarely received mail save for the odd invitation to tea from the appropriate aristocratic figures. All of which you declined given you couldn't stand to be in a room with female versions of your husband, each one gossiping and shaming other women when it was them who should be shamed for their cruel tongues and cold personalities. Soares you attended, only because it was your duty to attend them and your husband would be elsewhere mingling with his government and forming new and obnoxious plans for world domination. As usual, your breakfast was the first to be presented to you so you could eat it and begin the day's tasks as quickly as possible. This often included working during breakfast while sat in bed and praying you wouldn't have to get out of it any time soon.

When you opened your mail, you sighed, prompting Eunjae's keen and empathetic ears to prick up and ask you the question you expected her to react to. "Who's the letter from, Ma'am?"

"The Royal Highnesses, King Taeoh and Queen ___ of Shibia are cordially invited to the engagement party of Prince Hoseok of Qedian and Princess Jieun of Brudosha." You read aloud. "Qedian?"

"Yes. It's the kingdom next door to ours, Ma'am."

You laughed in embarrassment. "I should have known that, shouldn't I?"

"Nonsense, Ma'am. You've only been here for a year or so. Your people are more important than the location of your country."

You hummed in agreement.

"Will you attend?"

You nodded. "I suppose we'll have to. Political obligation and all that poppycock. Must keep up appearances."

"I didn't even know the Prince was engaged, Ma'am. I have family in Qedian and they said nought to me."

"Perhaps they don't like you."

Eunjae laughed. "Wouldn't surprise me, Ma'am. Do you suppose it's an arranged marriage, Ma'am?"

"Perhaps. Mine was at least."

Eunjae hears the solemnity in your voice and knows not to pry any further. She doesn't want to upset you especially first thing in a morning when you have a whole day to get through. Eunjae was very much aware of your attachment and love for her and couldn't bear to see you so sad as you have been throughout the entirety of your year-long marriage. She did pity you, there was no denying that fact, but she also never let it show and acted as though there was nothing wrong. Which, most of the time was something you needed.

"When will you tell the King of your invitation?"

"Later, perhaps. After his nightly visit when he's sated and calm. I know he doesn't enjoy these things, but we ought to go."

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queenofcats17 · 5 years

Text

BATIM D&D Party

I wanted to write out backstories for the BATIM characters in a D&D world, so here we go. These are very much my versions of the characters, as well as some of my oc’s.

I also kind of made a story out of it.

I used this to help me decide everyone’s classes upon first thinking about this, but this is also very helpful.

Thank you to @randomwriteronline and @chaostheparrot for their input and help in ironing out what classes would fit each character.

I especially loved Random’s comment that the Music Department would be, and I quote, “just increasingly off the shit bards”.

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Timeline:

Joey and Henry meet up and decide to adventure together.

Original party is formed: Joey, Henry, Norman, Wally, and the bard band

Henry and Joey get into a fight and Henry leaves the party

Shawn and Grant are inducted into the party

Joey’s party passes through Cordelia’s town and she joins as they are in need of a healer

Asmodeus reaches out to Joey and becomes Joey’s patron

Tom and Allison are brought on. Joey explains that they need another healer and Tom has some experience with magical artifacts. He refuses to explain what sort of magical artifacts he wants Tom for

Joey approaches Bertram to make an artifact for him which leads to Bertram and Lacie traveling with the party in order to gather the materials for the artifact

Joey leads the party to defeat a necromancer holed up in a castle, and takes up residence there once the necromancer is defeated.

Joey starts conducting immoral experiments, occasionally kidnapping residents from the nearby town

Joey turns his attentions to his party members, beginning to experiment on them

Henry gets a letter, inviting him to the castle. Joey has something to show him...

Now on to the backstories.

Sammy, Susie, and Jack are all bards who have been friends since childhood. Johnny is Sammy’s younger brother and also a bard. They each have their own reasons for wanting to go out adventuring. Sammy because he wanted to spread his music, Susie because she wanted to see the world and sing for people, Johnny because he was not about to let Sammy see the world without him, and Jack basically because he wanted to be around his friends. They’ve formed a band of sorts. Sammy plays banjo (although he can play nearly any instrument), Jack’s on violin, Johnny basically plays a keyboard, and Susie sings. They’ve been run out of a few towns due to Susie and Sammy’s strong personalities. Sammy gets into fights with people about music and Susie squares up when her friends are threatened. Although there was one time someone broke Jack’s violin and he did a number on them.

Sammy and Susie will flirt with anyone and everyone. They are disaster bisexuals. Favorite targets are Norman, Tom, and Allison. Sometimes Wally, although that’s mostly Sammy. Meanwhile, Jack has kind of a thing for Grant. And sometimes Sammy. He’s a quiet and distinguished gay. Johnny falls in love very easily and it’s hard to get him to move on from them. He had a crush on Susie when they were all little and Sammy continues to tease him about it. Susie thought it was cute.

Joey: Warlock. His patron is Asmodeus, the Lord of Hells. Growing up, Joey dreamed of adventuring. His parents strongly discouraged this, knowing the dangers that came along with adventuring. They didn’t want him to get hurt. Joey, however, took this to mean that they thought he was too weak to make it in the world. It didn’t help that a lot of the other children liked to pick on him due to his small stature and sickly nature. He threw himself into studying magic, being too weak to class as anything particularly physical. His success was rather...mixed. He was alright at magic, but nowhere near as powerful as he’d hoped.

He ran away from home at around 18 in order to adventure and find a way to boost his magical power. He ended up in Henry’s town and the two became friends. Joey suggested they go adventuring together and Henry agreed. The two set off on their adventure when they were in their 20′s, forming a party with Norman, Wally, and the bard band. Joey's search for power was temporarily forgotten as he reveled in the joy of adventuring with his friends. However, tensions began to run a bit high between him and Henry, who thought Joey was being greedy and pushing the party members farther than they were capable of going. The two of them fought and Henry left the party.

Joey was convinced he could make it without Henry, bolstering the ranks of the party and continuing to press on as though nothing was wrong. However, this was the beginning of his spiral downwards. He began to throw himself even more into trying to bolster his magic. He started dragging his party into even more dangerous situations in order to find a way to make himself more powerful.

It was at this point that Asmodeus reached out to him. He appeared as a handsome red-skinned young man and promising he could give Joey everything he desired. Joey took his offer, becoming a rather powerful warlock.

For a bit, things were alright. Joey was happy with his newfound power. He had to perform sacrifices to Asmodeus, which was a little inconvenient given his party’s moral compass, but the party was already killing evildoers. Asmodeus seemed perfectly satisfied with these sorts of sacrifices, though.

But soon...Joey began to wonder. Why did they have to rely on gods for magical power? Why couldn’t they just have it themselves? He’d seen many a warlock fall due to losing the favor of their patron. It was incredibly dangerous to rely on these gods for power when their favor could so easily be lost. If he could find a way to allow humans to have godly powers without the contract, then he could prevent others from falling. And so, unbeknownst to his party, he began to look into magical artifacts and rituals.

Norman: Ranger. No one knows what his background is and he refuses to give a straight answer as to what it is. His story changes every time he’s asked. In reality, he was part of a rebellion against the tyrannical ruler of his town. The rebellion failed, unfortunately, and in retaliation, the ruler killed those who had taken part in it. Norman managed to escape, but his family and many of his friends died. He doesn’t like to talk about it. Sammy, Susie, Wally, and Tom are some of the only people he’s told the truth to. Prior to joining up with this party, he tried not to stay in any place for too long for fear of being recognized and turned over to the ruler. Initially, he wanted revenge against the man who killed the people he loved. He plotted out exactly how he would do it, fantasized about sticking the bastard’s head on a pike. But he’s been running for a long time. And that fire has long since been extinguished. Now he just wants to be free from that looming shadow.

Henry: Monk. He never really planned on being an adventurer. He grew up in a small village that was pretty far away from any kind of danger. His parents ran a bookstore. He didn’t have any siblings. He had a pretty boring life. He met Joey after Joey ran away from home and ended up in Henry’s town. When Joey suggested they start adventuring together, he was excited. He’d never left his town before. So he left with Joey and the two of them began adventuring together with their party. Things were good for a while until Henry and Joey began to butt heads about Joey’s leadership of the group. Henry ended up leaving over this argument. Angry and upset, Henry went away to train at a monastery. It was during this training that he met Linda, who was passing through on her own errands. The two of them adventured for a bit after Henry completed his training before settling down together.

Linda: Cleric. A follower of the Lliira. She came from a long line of healers, and while she wasn’t expected to follow in their footsteps, it was highly encouraged. Luckily, she was interested in helping people. She chose Lliira as her patron as she had little interest in fighting or continuing the cycle of violence in their world. Once she’d reached the appropriate age, and had trained sufficiently with her family, she set off on a journey to bring healing and joy to all she could. She met Henry when she stopped off at the monastery he was training at during her travels. She thought he was rather adorable, especially since he tended to accidentally hit himself in the face with his staff whenever she watching him practice. She was more than happy to journey with and later marry him.

Henry works as a historian/librarian in their town while Linda is the local healer. A not-insignificant portion of the town has crushes on both of them. They’re both very kind and compassionate and surprisingly buff. Linda may be a pacifist, but she chops their firewood herself.

Tom: Fighter who dual classes as an artificer. He’s made a bit of a name for himself as an artificer, but more often he’s just called upon to fix things. He grew up in an orphanage as his parents were killed in a monster attack. He made himself indispensable to the orphanage staff by being the best at fixing things. He taught himself to fix just about everything. Chairs, plumbing, wagons, weapons. You name it, he figured out how to fix it. Once he got older, the orphanage directors apprenticed him to a blacksmith. Tom tried to find fulfillment in it but couldn’t. He ended up training himself as a fighter, while beginning to hone his craft as an artificer, and set off wandering. He found Allison when she’d gotten herself into a fight she wasn’t prepared for and helped her get out. He thought she was a nice woman and decided to travel with her. She gave people hope and he wanted to be a part of that.

Allison: Paladin. A follower of the goddess Istus. Her family are nobles and frankly bastards. She ran away from home at a young age to join a convent. However, during her journey to the convent, she saw the injustices of the world. So, instead of going to the convent, she went to join a paladin order. The paladins were initially a little unsure about whether to take her on, especially since she was the daughter of a noble and they didn’t want to have her father storming their building demanding her back, but she proved she was serious about the situation. After she completed her training, she set out to help those in need. She met Tom after stumbling into a fight she wasn’t prepared for. The two started traveling together after that. She believes that there is always hope, no matter how many times she is knocked down. There are many who take comfort in her unshakable faith.

Shawn: Rogue. He grew up in the slums of a major city, learning how to pickpocket and swindle in order to provide for his family. His mother constantly told him that there were other ways for them to get by, but no matter how many jobs she or his siblings picked up, they never had enough. Shawn saw stealing from the rich as the only viable option. It wasn’t like taking from the ultra-rich of the city would hurt them, he thought. And it didn’t. They just threw huge fits before eventually moving on. He earned a bit of a reputation among the city guards as a troublemaker. Shawn started having a bit of fun messing with them, which led to guards to target his family. He ended up leaving the city in hopes that it would improve his family’s lives if he wasn’t there. He began to travel, becoming a Robin Hood-esque figure. The poor lauded him as a hero while the rich saw him only as a villain. Joey found him in a holding cell after getting caught stealing from a corrupt baron. He continues to send money to his family even now, hoping that he can still try and make up for the mistakes he’s made.

Bertram: Artificer. Born to a well to do family, Bertram was never particularly interested in adventuring. He was, however, very interested in inventing and figuring out how to imbue magic into the things he created. He ended up becoming a rather successful and sought after artificer due to his uncanny knack for figuring out how things worked and how they could be improved. He began traveling in order to expand his business, which is why he hired Lacie. He needed a bodyguard and she wanted to travel. He ended up encountering Joey when Joey approached him to design an artifact for him. Bertram didn’t particularly trust him, but business was business so he agreed to do what he could for Joey.

Lacie: Monk. Kind of like an older, more tired version of Beau from Critical Role. Her family were wealthy and wanted a son, but they got Lacie instead. They tried to force her to be the ‘perfect’ daughter which led to her rebelling quite a lot. She ended up running away to join a monastery. The monks helped her to deal with the anger and frustration she felt, teaching how to channel it into more productive avenues. She stayed at the monastery for many years, gaining a reputation as a competent fighter and a general pillar of common sense, until she was approached by Bertram to be his bodyguard. She’s been traveling with him ever since. She tries not to pick fights, but she will absolutely finish any ones started by other people.

Grant: Wizard. From a young age, Grant had an insatiable desire for knowledge. It was this desire that led him to begin to study magic. His family didn’t have much but wanted to send him off to a magic academy so that he would be able to study magic. Thankfully, a magic academy did take notice of his aptitude and sent him a letter. Although Grant excelled at his magical studies, he proved too anxious to function as a power player. He had no interest in playing mind games or working in a court. He was better suited to academia, and so became a professor and scholar after graduation. Grant was more than happy teaching others magic and often regrets leaving his position at the school to travel with Joey, especially since Joey doesn’t exactly treat him well. Joey wanted Grant for his vast knowledge and tactical mind, often treating him as nothing more than a walking encyclopedia.

Wally: Druid. A follower of the goddess Eldath. He grew up in kind of a hippie commune. He has a really big family and the kids were basically allowed to run free in the forest and do whatever they wanted. He was happy in the commune, but he always kind of wanted to see the world. Plus, he felt a bit bad that he wasn’t as good of a druid as the rest of his family. He just didn’t take it as seriously as others did. He left the commune when he was about 16 and started just roaming around. He ran into Joey and Henry and joined their party because they thought he was absolutely adorable and just a little ray of sunshine. He’s not much of a combatant, because Eldath abhorres violence and won’t fight even to defend herself. The few times he’s tried to fight he’s lost his powers from her. It was easy enough for Joey to take him down in the end. Wally would never hurt a friend.

Cordelia: Cleric. Follower of the goddess Hel. Despite Hel’s less than savory reputation, Cordelia follows her because it gives her comfort to think there is someone looking out for her parents, both of whom died from sickness. Had a rather sheltered upbringing in a small village where nothing much happened. Roy left for adventure when she was about 15. He returned when she was 17, carried back catatonic by a few paladins. She volunteered to take care of him since both of their parents needed to work. This is how she started learning how to be a cleric in the first place. She was 18 when Joey’s party rolled into town, making her want to go adventuring like her brother had. She specifically latched onto the bard band, wanting to be just like them. Maybe even travel with them. Her parents were averse to the idea, especially after what had happened to Roy, but they didn’t want to quash her dreams. They died later that year from a sickness she could neither treat nor cure. She was devastated, shutting herself in her room for days on end. But, upon Roy’s suggestion, the next time Joey’s party came around she left with them.

Roy: Former bard. Formerly a rather successful bard before an adventuring mishap put him out of commission. He got bored in their little village and set off for a life of adventure. Although he couldn’t play music too well, nor sing, he had a charismatic presence that drew people to him. He was part of a rather large adventuring group filled with similarly eager young adventurers. They were all predictably naive and foolhardy, rushing headlong into danger and getting into their fair share of scrapes and danger. One day, they ended up going on a quest that they couldn’t handle. Roy was the only one who survived. He was found, catatonic, by some wandering paladins who managed to get him home. He didn’t say anything for years until his and Cordelia’s parents died and he forced himself to step up and be there for Cordelia. He was the one to suggest she become an adventurer. Despite his own misgivings toward that career, he thought it would do her good to get away from their town and the memory fo their parents.

Esther: Paladin. Follower of the god Tyr. Although she’s not an adventurer, she still takes her job very seriously. She wants to protect those who cannot protect themselves. She became a paladin after Joey ran away. Specifically, she went on a journey to try and find her brother again. Along the way, she witnessed the injustice and cruelty of the world. It horrified her to see the way people treated each other and the abuses that people got away with. When she returned, not having found her brother, she went through paladin training and became the protector of her town. She later met the man who would become her husband, Robert, when he was passing through the town as a traveling bookseller. The two struck up a friendship, which later turned into a relationship.

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 5 years

Text

Winner’s Curse Ch. 12

It’s been a full week since they teamed up and nothing had been remotely accomplished. On the bright side, nothing remotely evil or world destroying had happened yet too. So they still had some time. Who knew how much though.

Their mission into the castle last night yielded no new results. It seemed whenever they went to investigate the castle, it was empty. They had spent days scouring the dark, gloomy halls, occasionally bumping into one of Maleficent’s mindless goons but it seeme uninhabited. Uma’s best guess was that the Coven had a secret lair within the castle or they were investigating the wrong wing of the castle. Either way, nothing informative or helpful had come to light to the Coven’s weakness.

Aziz and Lala had found Abis Mal three nights ago and interrogated him for any clues about the Coven but he was of no use. Similarly when they tried to recruit him to join their cause to take down the Coven, the small man said `No” and he’d rather dance on thir graves than help anyone from Auradon. Then after that grand speech, he threw up his spoiled dinner.

That brought them here and now. Strategizing in the office of Captain Hook’s ship since her own boat had been unfortunately dismantled and had parts stolen off it since she left.

“Well we could ask some of the kids around here. After all, no one cares about the kids here or thinks they’re capable of anything. I mean Mal, Evie, Carlos and I were still teenagers when we defeated Maleficent.” Jay puffed up his chest with pride.

Uma thought about Celia. Though she would be more than willing to fight against the Coven, Uma knew she didn’t have the strength to go against them. It wasn’t right to have the younger children help to fight their battles when they were already enduring abuse and neglect from their parents much less their new overlords.

“No” Uma said definately, “The kids may be sneaky but they will just slow us down or become targets. As I’ve been saying, we need the mercenaries on our side.” “And that will take a lot of money. Remember, Uma, Sinclair said we have to pay her just to get her to go into Maleficent’s castle.” Gil said.

“I remember.” Uma snarled at the unneeded interruption. “Great, we can probably bribe them all to help us. I mean we do have phenomenal cosmic power at our fingertips and that means so much gold.” Jay slapped Jordan on the back. Jordan and Aziz both glared at him like they wished to rip his fingers off.

“That boy” Uma internally mused, “He really knows how to irritate anyone. VK or Ak.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Aziz inserted, “We can’t offer gold to everyone here or any more promises that we are not going to keep. It is probably best to stick with Uma’s idea to start a revolution with the people by using their hatred against the hatred.”

“I could convince my dad, I’m sure he would love to overthrow my mom.” Lala added, “And then he can threaten other people to back us up.”

“I’m sure we can convince people to help us without resorting to threats.” Calix interjected.

With that statement, Jay, Uma, Harry and Gil scoffed at his pathetic naivete.

“No can do. Ben may want us to do things peacefully, but our mission is to save the world and if we have to force the villains here to fight the Coven, we force them. Heh, guess they’ll see what it’s like to be forced against their will to do something.” Jordan said with a surprisingly intimidating growl.

The face of the Smee twins popped into her head once more. Along with those of Dizzy, and Celia, and Hadie and so many others. Walking in chains to sure bloodshed. And all because this girl was too blind by prejudice to see that she was punishing children who did nothing wrong.

“That’s not your call! You’re going to force the people to fight your battle. As if Auradon hasn’t done enough, forcing us to live here and eat your scraps.” Uma banged her fist, sending the few papers and trinkets Hook had on the desk to fail to the floor. Jordan seemed to grow taller for she had to bend her head downward to glare at her, nose to nose. Uma squelched the urge to step backward, away from the invasion of personal space, but she would not admit such weakness.

“You’re fighting our battle? Don’t sound like such a matyr. We’re all on the same side. We’re all doing the same damn battle. And you just said it’s ridiculous to get people to help us voluntarily. We have to threaten them or bribe them.” “But you can’t..”

“Only you can threaten them? That’s what you’re saying is it? That’s not your call. I’m not here to act like a friend you never had. I’m here as the leader.” Jordan took another step forward but Uma didn’t back away, she stood her ground. She could sense more than see the others in the room, staring and holding their breath for the next move or in Harry’s case, attack when she needed it. But no one made a move. It felt like it was just the two of them trapped in this power struggle that spiraled too quickly.

She had underestimated this girl. It was clear that she was improvising her plan as she went along and unsure of making decisions. But instead of latching on to her superior expertise as she expected, Jordan was lashing out at her and trying to keep all the control to herself even if it meant threatening them all. “I’m the captain.” Uma retorted, straightening her posture and walking forward into Jordan’s personal space. And victory for her, the genie took a step back. “One with experience. Connections. I actually know the Isle and people here. They will trust me more than you. You’re just some Auradon snob who never had to make a decision in her life and thinks we’re less than you because we come from the Isle. You only see us as copies of our parents.”

“You only see us as copies of our parents. You think we’re fools with idealism and stupidity that are only good to use for our riches and our wishes.” Jordan stopped backing away, standing like a statue with an unnervingly calm voice full of malice as she stated her opinion.

They stood glaring at which point Uma noticed sweat trickling down the back of her neck and that it was starting to feel unnaturally hot in the room that usually was damp and smelling of kelp. Now it smelled like fried kelp.

Jordan clearly saw that Uma had caught on with the change in temperature. She cocked her head with an unruffled poker face, “What? Are you feeling like a boiled shrimp?”

“Bitch!” Harry lunged forward, hook outstretched to spear her throat but Aziz got there first, marking his back with a ferocious gnash on his back. Uma had to give him a tiny amount of respect for not flinching but instead giving Jordan a quick much-needed slap.

“Aziz! Your back! Stop slapping my cheek. You-”

“Aram shu. Haltan khob ast?” Aziz commanded and the two devolved into a rapid conversation in Arabic that she couldn’t understand. Not that it mattered when all the sweltering heat and the tension in the room whooshed out and Uma allowed herself to exhale.

Harry was at her side but before he could ask. Uma nodded. She was fine. They both could see that though she was a little rattled by the turn of events. The Aks weren’t going to be as easily manipulated as she thought but she could work with that. She’ll just have to change her tactics.

Jordan’s voice cut through their silent conversation as she slumped into Captain Hook’s chair, “Fine. We’ll do whatever Uma says for now.”

Uma could do without the amount of petty sarcasm Jordan used when saying her name, but was glad for whatever it was Aziz said that made her see reason.

“Then I suppose I’ll start strategizing. Go eat.” Uma gestured for all of them to go which they followed except the genie girl who was staring numbly at the wall.

Calix ducked back in and urged Jordan off the chair and out the door, “Come on, time to eat.”

“I’m a genie, I don’t need to eat.”

“Well if you want to talk about genies, Desiree...”

“I’m not in the mood for banter.”

Uma looked out of the office door one more time to see Calix drag Jordan to the far side of the ship for privacy. Where she expected Jay to be skulking around like the snake he was, he was actually in the middle of the action wrestling with Gil while the rest of the crew cheered Gil on.

She scoured to make sure that Aziz and Lala weren’t hanging around close enough to eavesdrop, but fortunately Aziz was also distractedly watching the impromptu wrestlin match, looking back at Jordan and nodding as Lala talked in his ear, “When you were interrogating Abis Mal, how were you able to tell that-“

Uma closed the door and turned to her first mate.

Uma wasted no time for pleasentries, “You’ve been a bit more unhinged than usual lately since I’ve returned. What is it?”

She had first noticed the change when they went to Sinclair. Harry’s type of intimdation was unnerving the opposition with his invasions of personal space and gliding his hook on their skin but he didn’t usually lunge or attack unless it was with her. Not for her. He trusted her instincts too much to go on the defensive for her without permission. This was the second time he striked so aggresively without a warning.

“Nothing is-” Harry paused, and looked at the wall, “CJ’s back.”

Uma’s eyes widened. CJ and Harry always had a complicated relationship. Well all the Hook siblings had a contentious relationship with each other. But Harry and CJ moreso because of how close they were in age and how their personalities clashed.

It all traced back to Captain Hook himself as most of the kids’ issues could be traced to their parents’ treatment. Harry always looked up to his father, wanting to be just like him leading to his obsessive devotion to his fake hook. But Hook never gave him time of day, in fact, he treated him less than compared to his sisters. Especially since Harry had joined her crew. By then, Hook had completely disregarded Harry as one of his own because he was content to be her first mate and not seize the captainship for his own.

CJ, on the other hand, was undoubtedly Hook’s favorite. She was the youngest child, ambitious and also wanted to be just like her father. But while Hook cared for her more than Harry, he had no belief in her to become a captain of great esteem like himself so Uma personally thought CJ overcompensates with her flashy bucuneer act.

The two used to be close when they were younger, Harriet acting as their mother and above their sibling rivalry. The two would fight and get under each other’s skin but she knew Harry had a special protective spot whereas CJ was concerned though the blonde often chafted under his watchful eye and often almost got herself killed trying to do things on her own.

But then they grew up and CJ became more capable, running around the Isle with Freddie and following Captain Hook’s lead in dismissing Harry as lesser. It got worse after CJ made it to Auradon and unlike Harry, she had no loyalty to those she left behind. All she did was send condescending messages about the high time she was having sailing the Seven Seas, making it to Neverland to get Captain Hook’s compass, and raiding villages in Auradon.

That was the last straw for Harry. He could stand the taunts and condescension and the little girl pretending she was greater than she was. But the disloyalty earned his ire and CJ became subject non grata.

“Her mom contacted her. It’s Lady Caine.” Harry turned his gaze away from the wall to her again. Then punched the wall.

Lady Caine was CJ’s mom? Well that explained the disloyalty gene. Her mother was Captain Hook’s, and to the extent the rest of the Hook family’s, greatest nemesis on the Isle.

Well exempting a one night fling apparently.

“And she’s what? She’s following her now?” Uma eyed Harry’s bloody knuckles as he picked splinters away from his skin.

“I don’t know. Just.. she wants to get the Jolly Roger for herself. “Her birthright.” Harry shook his head and looked like he was about to punch something again but Uma grabbed his hook before he could do anything else. “She’s not going to get it. If anything, the Jolly Roger belongs to us. We run this town. She can go back to Auradon. We’ll drag her there by her hair when we win over the Coven.”

“I don’t care about that. She won’t get near the Jolly Roger with Da in charge of it.” Harry said. Uma was about to mention that Captain Hook was usually out of comission but knew that Harry was about to get to what was really bothering him.

“I can’t believe her mother is Caine. I can’t believe she has a mother.” Harry sat down in Hook’s chair. “Are you wondering about your mother?” Uma asked

“No I mean yes. I mean. It’s not like I care about my mother. Even if she showed up now, she’s not going to do anything for me I guess. Harriet took care of all that stuff. I just don’t get why Caine is coming back. Or why CJ is teaming up with her. After all she has done to Dad. Trying to take his ships, and steal his crew and say she’s the pirate queen of the Isle.”

“CJ has no loyalty. Even to your dad. It figures she would do whatever suits herself.” Uma said.

“But even after all the stories we know about Caine.” Harry protested.

“She’s her mother.” Uma surprised herself when the statement slipped out but it did. She thought she understood it to an extent. Ursula was no treat to be with.

But Uma still… she hated to admit it. She cared for her. She hated how Ursula lost of her power and glory since being stabbed with a sea mast and how she had no faith in her. The Isle had sucked all the life and ambition out of her. It made her even more cruel and harsh which Uma was thankful for because that’s how she knew life worked. She wasn’t encouraging, she wasn’t loving but Ursula made sure she survived.

She suppose maybe CJ felt a similar tug. Not that Lady Caine did much to make sure CJ lived but she did give her, her survival instincts. They were similar and unlike Captain Hook, Caine was giving her attention.

“I don’t trust Caine. It makes no sense that she’d have an interest in CJ even if they are related.” Harry said and Uma had to smile to herself because Harry’s protective big brother mode was creeping up.

“Well we can definately go check them out from time to time while we fight the Coven. Kill two birds with one mission.” Uma assured him and Harry nodded his assent, his hand sneaking to grip hers.

Uma breathed in and simply enjoyed the serene moment and the warmth of his hand and a bit of the blood still trickling from his knuckles. It was the calm before the impending storm.

She looked down and saw the night shadows lengthening across the floor from under the door and realized it was probably time to start heading out. There were less people out at night for them to be suspicious of their activities. She looked to Harry, unlocked their hands and walked out onto the deck that was silent with the forms of her crewmmates laying themselves out for the night.

A plan was swiftly snapping into place in her mind and she barreled out orders, “Gil, you stay here with the crew and start scouting for lackeys to recruit to our army tomorrow morning. Jay, Jordan, Aziz, you will go find mercenaries to hire. Calix and I will investigate the castle again and uh, Harry and Lala will stand guard outside.”

Uma didn’t even wait to see the others carry out her orders. She knew her crew would do it, and well… it may be petty but she didn’t care one bit if Jay, and his genie and Aziz got their throats slit in the dark. She could handle things without them.

The four took their familiar route from the ship to the castle, moving as a silent mass and reached the backdoor in no time.

Harry took up position by the door while Lala leaped up to the closest tree and rested herself on the top tree branch, her brown eyes intently watching the horizon.

Uma picked the lock and swung open the door, turning left to where they knew the parlors full of magic spell books were. Before she could get far, Calix grabbed her arm.

Uma pushed him away, and saw he was heading the wrong way. “What are you doing?” “We’ve been there. We should go right and see if we can make our way to the tower. That’s where villains go to look over their kingdom and gloat don’t they?”

“But we don’t know the way there. What if we get lost and then caught?” Uma hissed.

“Oh you underestimate me.” Calix smirked, a small glowing blue ball appeared in his hand, expanded and spread itself into a map of the floor they were on. “Son of Circe, remember?”

“Why didn’t you use that before?” Uma cried as she took the lead heading right. “I didn’t want to undermine your leadership cap’n.” Calix quipped and Uma growled. She didn’t care for his laseiz faire attitude. That sort of personality led you to a quick death around here.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Your idea to scout the floors here was a good one but it’s not working anymore so… that’s when magic is needed.” Calix smiled at his glowing map and almost tripped over himself as they approched the spiral staircase leading up.

The walls were far too close together and the stairs were steep lending to a clustraphobic feeling Uma wasn’t quite comfortable with her. She was in her element in the water and the higher up they climbed, the farther they were from the shore, the water and all that she was used to.

She was going to be high and dry in the tower and the thought made her nervously clench and unclench her fists as she thought over the sparring techniques Harry and she used to fight when they were younger.

The stairs continued upward but Uma made a stop at a door which she nimbly picked and opened to a much more lavish hallway. There were tapestries and velvet curtains lining the walls and at random intervals, there was a desk with a vase of flowers or a knight in shining armor. There was even a plush purple carpet.

“Hmm looks like King Arthur’s.. Ah I bet Morgan was in charge of decorating.” Calix murmered to himself and Uma shushed him.

The plush rug made a great cover for their footsteps as they cautiously walked down. Most doors were unlocked which allowed them to peek into see what was in them. Many were sitting rooms or parlors or man caves. This part of the castle was clearly inhibited because they could hear the echoes of voices causing them to jump into the nearest rooms every seven minutes, but no one came near.

Around the third time of this incident happening, Uma was over it. She hated acting this cautious and scared. It was weak. She was a pirate captain and sea witch, she was used to walking straight into danger, but… the danger here was different than facing Mal’s gang. It was more potent and powerful and caution had to be exercised no matter how annoying it was to do so.

Uma went out into the hallway and brushed against a suit of armor, the small action causing the chainmail to clatter to the floor and the echoing voices stopped echoing.

Uma and Calix ran back into the man cave and hid behind the green velvet curtains. A lame hiding spot but the only one as there was only ottamons and couches and neither would big enoough to hide under.

“Huh? It’s just a knight. Damned things can’t stay up.” A smoky voice commented outside the door and they heard the motions of her putting it back up straight.

“Well as I was saying…” a familar voice drawled Uma gripped the curtain tighter in her fists to keep back the range of emotions rising in her chest like a high tide. Anger, irritation, aggrevation, all the usual things she felt when CJ was near, amplified with the knowledge of how she betrayed her family.

“We should hit them tonight!” Them? Them as in the Jolly Roger and Harry? Tonight?!!

“I don’t think so.” The older, smoky voice rejected and Uma had to take the chance and see who was talking.

Allowing her left eye peer past the edge of the curtain she saw Lady Caine lounging on the ottoman with CJ pacing irritatedly beside her.

“I thought you put me in charge. And I say we should strike tonight.” CJ retorted huffily.

Lady Caine stretched and cracked her neck, seeming to regard CJ as the impatient child she was, “But have you thought of the Coven factor. We just heard their plans, wouldn’t it be better to wait for them and then steal off with Roger in the middle of chaos.”

CJ paused to consider it, “Hmm it would make it worse for dad if I did steal the Jolly Roger while the rest of the Isle is falling apart… I guess we could wait.”

“You're a smart girl. Knew you’d see it my way.” Lady Caine sauntered off and CJ followed after her puffing her red coat tails.

She knew she told Harry they would deal with Caine and CJ along with the Coven but the fact that the two were working with the Coven’s plans just made it so much easier. She really was going to kill two birds with one stone.

Uma shot away from her hiding place to follow after them and Calix wisely followed her lead. Uma poked her head out the door first and saw the two shadows walking away to the left and moved to follow when she felt her hat get pushed off her head. “Hello Uma!” a gleeful voice chirped followed by a hard shove with what felt like a club. Uma turned around to see a staff heading straight for her head which was quickly blasted away by one of Calix.

Uma put her hands up for a fight and then lowered them when she saw who it was.

Ginny Gothel and Zevon.

They were no threat to her really. Ginny was a pathetic fighter, preferring to stay on the sidelines and protect her vanity like her mother and Zevon… Zevon was Zevon. Big talk, big gestures and gestulications, but one good deck usually took him out of the running.

“Fine, you wanna fight. Let’s fight. Meet your doooooooooooooooooooom!”

That’s when Uma noticed Zevon’s staff was glowing threateningly with purple mist rising around them.

Great, someone gifted the delusional meglomaniac with magic. Just great.

#zevon #ginny gothel #uma #harry hook #gil legume #jay #aziz #calix #lala #my OCs #disney descendants #winner’s curse #chapter twelve #jordan #cj #lady caine #my fanfic #my fanfiction

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truthbeetoldmedia · 6 years

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Ain't I a Woman?: The Unbalanced Portrayal of Strong Women on 'The 100'

It must be said that women have come leaps and bounds as it relates to representation in popular media. I’ve seen more WOC, LGBTQA women and disabled women on my various screens in the past 3 years than I have in decades of TV viewership and that’s a wonderful thing. I will always celebrate the presence of more women, especially increasingly diverse women, in film and television. The traditionally male-dominated world of television is slowly opening the doors to allow for voices like my own to be heard, and audiences are overwhelmingly receptive. Obviously, we’ve not reached perfect equality, but we are seeing growth. Unfortunately, not all growth is good.

For all the positive changes we’ve seen there are strong reminders that, even as women become more than just housewives and child bearers, the men who control the writers’ rooms they come from don’t always understand what it means to be a strong woman. The forward movement of women in popular culture is sometimes at complete odds with the oftentimes unintentional reinforcement of outdated gender roles or the inability to allow women to be both strong and emotional, intelligent and soft, love interests and warriors, be sexual beings and not have that same sexuality used as a tool. It feels like writers believe there is only one way a woman can be strong, and it often comes at a detriment to the characters and the women who watch them.

Today I want to tackle this issue as it affects one of my favorite shows: The 100. If you had to choose one (singular) amazing thing about this show, it’s just how many women there are (and have been) and how integral they are to the plot. The “Core Four” of the show (made up of Clarke Griffin, Raven Reyes, Octavia Blake and Bellamy Blake) is almost all women, the leaders of the opposing groups in each season are almost always women, the plot is almost always being driven by the actions of women.

At its core, The 100 is a show about women and what they are willing to do to ensure the safety of those they love and that’s a powerful message….when it’s done right, that is. The first season handled the dichotomy of womanhood almost perfectly. All of our women were placed in difficult situations that often required them to make decisions logically, but we were also shown the emotional impact of those decisions. The show even begins with a mother (Abby) making the decision to send her only child down to a possibly toxic Earth, because the alternative is certain death as opposed to a chance at a real life.

We follow Clarke and her big heart as she navigates the trials of leadership, made all the more complicated by her difficulty relating to a group of delinquents who won’t listen to her due to ingrained class differences to a safer space, as she tries to save a boy others would have left for dead (Jasper Jordan), as she learns more about the Grounders and their ways and reacts with horror at the thought of a child being forced into battle so young.

We see Raven’s love for Finn give her the determination to repair a dropship that’s a hundred years too old for safe use and hurtle through the skies to the ground and, later, love for herself allow her to walk away from her romantic relationship with Finn. We see Octavia, brimming with curiosity and wonder at her first taste of true freedom, eager to see all that the world has to offer but also finding a hidden ferocity within herself.

It’s not until the show’s second season that we begin to see issues with how women in positions of power are portrayed, and it’s all thanks to our closer look into the Grounder society. Grounder society, even more so than Arkadian, is extremely matriarchal. Women are in positions of leadership across the board and you’d think that’d be a good thing. Unfortunately for us, and the show, Grounderism is also rooted in heavily racist allegories.

The list of tropes The 100 shoehorns in as it relates to the Grounders is almost unparalleled by any other show with a “native” group. We deal with the “Badass Native”, wherein, because indigenous people just love going to war, they must all be badasses of some sort or other; the “Savage Native”, wherein the indigenous people immediately reject outsiders by violent and forceful methods; the “Proud Warrior Race Guy”, who seeks battle specifically because his culture teaches that war is the only way to earn true honor; the “Angry Black Woman”, characterized by a black woman who is — almost always — angry, and many more. They all mean that, when the Grounders actually start to have meaningful interactions with out main characters, they all come out worse as a result.

The change is most obvious in our lead character, Clarke Griffin, which makes sense. She remains emotionally vulnerable but capable of making the hard decisions, right up until the aftermath of Finn’s death. I’d like to note here — before we go any further — that I obviously expected making the decision to kill Finn to emotionally impact, and, yes, even devastate, Clarke. It’s a decision no one should have to make and one only Clarke can ever truly bear the weight of.

The problem is in the bad advice this show gives our heroine through one Lexa kom Trikru. At Finn’s funeral pyre, Lexa tells Clarke that true leadership is made possible only in remembering that “Love is weakness.” In all fairness to the show, it is initially presented as a bad ideology; her actions in allowing the bomb to fall on Ton D.C. were shown as horrifying to her mother and her choice to lie to Bellamy about Octavia’s safety is seen as the betrayal that it was and, ultimately, the plan that she concocted with Lexa failed. It’s not until Clarke is reunited with her friends and sees her mother, who she loves, being dragged to the draining table that the plan succeeds. But the lessons that Clarke learned in this season, namely “love is weakness,” and “I bear it so they don’t have to” follow Clarke for seasons to come and continues a downward spiral for the show and for Clarke — and the other women — going forward.

Season 2 sets an ugly precedent that The 100 has had a hard time walking back from. Although our characters’ actions are almost always motivated by love for their family and friends, we are also continuously shown that that same love causes them to behave in irrational and sometimes harmful (to themselves and to others) ways. There is no bigger example of this than our main character’s actions over the course of Season 5. I suppose we should have expected this, should have seen it coming, because a large part of the hiatus between Seasons 4 and 5 was spent pushing the fact that Clarke was a “Mama Bear” now, which was apparently short form for “Now that Clarke has an adopted daughter she’ll lose all semblance of logic and reason because of the power of love!”

The lesson that The 100 continues to teach women everywhere is that, in order to be a good leader, logic and reason cannot coexist with love. Every single last one of our female leaders deals with this quandary and ultimately, every time they chose to prioritize love over logic and reason, they lose.

The pattern begins with Lexa in Season 3, choosing to turn her back on the traditions of her people, motivated by Clarke (who she loved). While Lexa isn’t killed because she’s a lesbian (there’s a complicated mix of contract obligations, plot lines to introduce and more that factored in there), we can’t deny that Lexa choosing to love Clarke (her enemy) and choosing to listen to Clarke’s advice over the traditions and desires of the people she was sworn to lead was a huge factor in her death.

It continues into Season 4 when Abby’s love for Clarke results in her destroying the radiation chamber before the Nightblood can be tested again — a solution that would have worked goes untested and results in her daughter being left with only one other companion on a barren Earth for six years. In Season 5, Clarke’s love for Madi results in her leaving her best friend to die, joining up with a serial killer, shocklashing her daughter and more.

Maybe I’m alone in feeling as if the show tells women that, if we want to be leaders, seen as strong and capable people, we can’t afford to have emotional attachments, but I don’t think I am. Woman are capable of being both emotional and good leaders, capable of loving people and also recognizing that sometimes you can’t always put the ones you love first, capable of compromise in the face of hard choices. We are strong because of our emotions, because of our humanity, not in spite of it.

Women deserve to be shown on screen as we are in life, and sometimes that means that the men who far too often run writers’ rooms need to step back and lead by listening. I promise the (mostly female) audience for your show will thank you for it.

#Strong Women #Clarke Griffin #Lexa kom Trikru #Abby Griffin #Octavia Blake #The 100

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searchforthescars · 6 years

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Litany - Ch. 11/12

Y’all owe @bombshellsandbluebells for editing this and y’all owe both Megan and @maskingtapepoetree for talking me out of deleting this fic and my Ao3 account when things were Bad for the past few months. They’re not Good yet, but they’re getting better.

Thank you to @commanderanya, @daisytachi, @doortotomorrow and everyone else that took the time to reach out to me when I was struggling. I’m really bad at asking for, and accepting help, but know the sentiment was not lost on me and is both humbling and appreciated <3

If you’re still around, I’d love to hear what you think of this. If not, don’t worry.

Also on Ao3

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back. I’m not really sure why I do it, but in this version you are not feeding yourself to a bad man against a black sky prickled with small lights.

Murphy would like to pretend he’s not spiraling, but unfortunately, that isn’t much of an option right now.

Raven is noticing. So is Monty, though he doesn’t say anything, and so is Octavia, which means Bellamy knows. Luna figures it out soon after, and, because Lexa isn’t an idiot, she realizes too. Jasper and Emori are the only two in their group of friends - save for Zeke, who doesn’t know any better, and Costia, who stays out of it - who have no idea.

He likes it that way, if he’s honest. He doesn’t have the energy to explain that the thrill of Emori’s return has worn off, and with that disappearance has come the old familiar fears that he will be alone forever, that no one will ever really want him, that it will always be better to be alone then to have another person leave. That fear only intensifies every time Emori inserts herself into Raven’s conversations, joins Monty and Jasper on the quest to steal his kitchen knives, studies with Octavia and Lexa. She’s a perfect puzzle piece, and he’s a jagged piece of glass trying to fit.

Somehow, despite his downward trajectory, he manages to pass all his finals, and the whole house celebrates that no one failed out of college with a raucous night of drinking and terrible movies. For once, Murphy doesn’t participate in the former, although he does sit through the latter.

“You don’t want any?” Emori asks during a break between movies, taking a tiny sip of the ungodly alcoholic concoction Jasper made for her. The Christmas lights Raven put up the morning after Thanksgiving sparkle in her eyes.

Murphy shakes his head. “I’m good.”

Emori puts her cup down on the coffee table and inspects the contents. “Maybe I should take a page from your book,” she says. “This doesn’t look totally safe.”

“It probably isn’t,” Murphy says. He tries for a casual tone, but it falls flat. Worry flits through Emori’s eyes. Let it go, he pleads with her silently, but he knows better, knows that she won’t drop something as small as a shift in his tone.

Sure enough, she stands up. “Let’s go outside,” she says, catching his hand as she steps past him and tugging him out the door.

There’s a thin layer of frost on the concrete blocks that serve as Raven’s back patio. Murphy scuffs his shoes on the pavement, disrupting the delicate pattern of crystals. Emori wraps her arms around her torso - a gesture that means she’s cold, insecure or both, Murphy’s come to realize - and looks up at him. “What’s wrong, John?”

He expects her confrontation to be accusing, not soft, and he’s so taken aback by the care in her eyes that he forgets to answer for a moment. There’s still time to back out, he tells himself. There’s still time to repair the cracks in his own psyche without dragging her down with him.

When he answers her, it’s with a feeble, “Nothing.”

Emori scoffs a little. “Bullshit.”

“What do you want me to say?” He’s not angry. He just sounds like it. He doesn’t really feel much these days.

He pictures her standing in the kitchen with Raven, laughing with Monty and Harper, cautiously allowing Bellamy and Echo to help her move the furniture in her room so her bed is against the window. She invited him into every one of those spaces, but something always held him back. Something always keeps him from what he wants. Raven would say it’s himself. He would argue it’s his own failures as a human being.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Emori says. Her eyes plead with him.

The closer you get to the others, the farther you’ll get from me, is what he wants to say. “I’m thinking it’s cold as balls out here,” is what he actually says.

Emori scoffs again, this time with frustration. “Ever since I came back, you’ve been-” She starts a little bit, looks him up and down with a quick flick of her eyes. “Is it me? Did I do something to-”

Murphy cuts her off because he loves her, even as he knows he’s losing her. “No. It’s not you.”

She nods, squares her shoulders as if to steady herself. “Then what?”

Of course she won’t let it go. “Just fucking let it go already,” he snaps, and Emori recoils as if he’s struck her. “Go back inside to your friends.” He spits the last word.

“They’re your friends too.” She says it defiantly, stepping closer so they’re almost literally nose-to-nose. “What’s going on with you, John?”

“You know what,” he says, because what the hell, he’s numb anyway, and he’s not even drunk. How much could this hurt? “Maybe it is you. Maybe I’m just pissed off that you came back and just...just took over, like everything is fine.”

Emori looks stung. Murphy knows he should care, but all he can concentrate on is how, for the first time in months, he feels something. “John, what-”

“You can’t take everything away,” he tells her. He’s not drunk, but he feels like he is. He’s hot, then cold, and the whole world is tilting on its axis. “You can’t take over me and Raven and the house and-”

“You’re jealous.” Her statement makes him stop cold. There are tears sparkling in her eyes. “You’re jealous.”

“Damn right. Everyone likes you, and you left. I don’t even have that, and I’ve been here the whole time.”

Emori’s mouth snaps shut. She turns on her heel and stalks inside. In the time it takes for him to catch his breath, a cold wave of fear that has nothing to do with the weather washes over him.

“Shit!” he shouts into the darkness before bursting back through the kitchen door.

“She went upstairs,” Raven says from the living room. Murphy wastes no time in following her. “J, what-?”

He ignores her. He takes the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over the top stair, and all but careens down the hall and into her bedroom.

The door is open. Emori’s standing in the middle of her room, her hands over her face, her shoulders trembling. From where he’s standing, it looks like she’s sinking her teeth into one of the smaller fingers of her left hand.

“Hey,” he whispers, or tries to. His voice sounds like gravel. “Emori. Stop. Don’t do that.”

“What the hell do you care?” she snarls, turning to him. One of her fingers has teeth marks in it. Murphy sees them when her hand falls to her side. “Get out, John.”

“Emori-”

“NO!” She shouts, actually screams, and Murphy hears the entire house fall silent at once. Costia’s barely-there footsteps on the stairs, followed by Raven’s laborious ones, don’t deter him from meeting Emori’s eyes. “Get OUT!”

She takes a step toward him and, automatically, he flinches. “Emori, why-”

“You don’t get to say that to me!” she hisses. Her voice is livid, but her hands are trembling. “You don’t get to stand there and tell me that I deserve how you’re treating me just because I’m making a home for myself and you’re still punishing yourself for things you can’t let go.”

“That’s not-”

She shakes her head. “Yes. It is. Think, John. You know that’s why.” She scoffs. “You’re just like him. Neither of you really want me to have this.”

“Have what?” All of a sudden, Murphy remembers her standing in a park, flinching as her brother tells her she’ll never have a future. The memory stabs him in the gut. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Emori whispers. “Oh.”

They regard one another for a long moment. Murphy can hear the rustle of Costia’s skirt and Raven’s uneven breathing. They’re both standing in the doorway, he guesses, or at least, waiting on the other side of it.

“Get right with yourself,” Emori says finally. Her voice cracks. “Then come back to me.”

She turns away. It feels like a door is slamming shut. He wants to rewind time and undo what he said on the patio, but that won’t heal the wound that’s been festering in him far longer than he’d care to admit.

He leaves the room. He goes into his own and lets the tears stinging his eyes fall.

He has a choice. The choice is simple, but the emotions they evoke are not. He can either burrow into his inadequacy or he can allow Emori, Raven and whatever forces exist outside of him to pull him kicking and screaming into the right side of humanity.

“You’re an idiot,” Octavia succinctly informs him as he makes breakfast twelve mornings after his fight with Emori.

Case in point.

Raven throws a spatula at her from across the kitchen, nearly hitting Murphy in the side of the head in the process. “What?” Octavia protests. “He is!”

“This is bigger than Emori,” Luna says sagely from the armchair in the living room. Murphy turns to glare at her over his shoulder. “Isn’t it?”

“I’m not incriminating myself,” Murphy says drily, swiveling on his bar stool to face Raven, who’s raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“It is, though,” she murmurs. Octavia is across the room now, so only he can hear her. Briefly, his mind flashes back to high school, when he and Raven would mouth words through one of their kitchen windows, silently asking if the other one was okay, or if they needed rescuing from their mother.

Murphy’s eyes flit to the window over the kitchen sink. The cinder block he used to stand on in middle school is long gone, but he swears he can see echoes of his face, aging over time, always worried about his best friend, always wondering if this would be the night she starved to death.

“Why do you still live here?” he asks suddenly, seeking a distraction, and also truthful answers. “After all the shit your mom put you through here, why didn’t you just offload the house?”

Raven looks taken-aback. “It wasn’t worth it,” she says after a moment. “There’s a bedroom on the first floor, the place was paid for, and it was near college and town. I didn’t want to leave. Plus,” she gestures around the room, “you guys.”

“Even after…” Murphy trails off, the implication of her mother’s death hanging there like a weighted curtain.

Raven sighs. “Yeah.” She shrugs. “Mom isn’t here anymore. I do what I want.”

Murphy can’t fathom that kind of actualization. If the tables were turned and he was still at his parents’ house, he thinks he would’ve burned the whole place down.

He hears a tiny creak on the stairs and turns just in time to see a piece of Emori’s green jacket disappear into the shadows. He wants to follow her. His hands ache for her. He balls them into fists, studies the calendar on the fridge, the one that announced her impending arrival what feels like months ago, just for something to do.

Then, he sees it. Emori Moves Out. There, three weeks away, right before the start of the semester, written innocuously in small red letters.

“What the hell?” he asks, then says it louder when he can’t hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears. “What the hell, Raven?”

“What?” She seems confused, a little irritated, until she follows his gaze. “Oh.”

“You weren’t going to tell me?” Murphy sounds stung, petulant even.

Raven’s eyes are sad when she looks at him. “It wasn’t mine to tell.”

When Murphy knocks on Emori’s door, he doesn’t expect her to answer. When she does, he’s surprised to feel his mouth go dry.

“You’re moving out,” is all he says after a moment of her staring at him, eyebrow raised, waiting for whatever he thought was important enough to say.

It dawns on him that she probably isn’t hoping for an apology. That hurts him more than anything.

“Yes,” she answers, softly. “I don’t think I should be here anymore.”

She moves to close the door. Murphy reaches for her wrist before she can. “Please,” he whispers, eyes stinging, heart aching. “Please don’t go.”

Her eyes widen. She stares at the place where they touch when she says, “Why? All I do is take everything away, apparently.”

Her voice holds equal parts venom and exhaustion. Murphy doesn’t let go of her arm. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. A tear falls over his cheek and lands on his arm. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

“No,” she murmurs, looking up at him. Just like the first time they met, he’s trapped by her eyes. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Can I convince you to stay?”

She sighs. “No. But you can show me why I should.”

He tries. He puts away the paralysis and comfort that accompany his self-destructive desires, and he tries. For her, because he doesn’t want her to leave, he tries.

He forces himself into a routine. Wake up at eight, do housework and help Raven, cook lunch, read a little, watch a movie with Octavia, help Bellamy with dinner. The surprise on Emori’s face when she realizes he’s in a practiced habit of doing things, of playing nice and working hard, is worth it.

“That’s not why you should be doing this,” Luna informs him on Christmas Eve morning. She slept over last night, or so Murphy thinks - he can’t keep straight who Raven’s fucking, and it doesn’t really matter as long as they don’t cheat like that fucker Finn - and she looks more comfortable sipping from his chipped blue coffee mug than he ever did. “You should be doing this for you.”

“You and your masters in psychology can shove it,” he grumbles, even as he spoons scrambled eggs onto three plates and hands one to Luna. “Reyes! Breakfast!”

Raven appears in the kitchen with a clatter and a litany of curses. Her brace strap is caught on a metal rivet. Before Murphy can divest himself of the plates, Emori appears at Raven’s side, speeding down from the stairs and skidding into the kitchen on sock feet.

“I got it,” Emori grunts, disentangling Raven and patting her on the back. “You’re good.”

“Thanks,” Raven sighs, shoving hair out of her face. “I probably could go without it but-“

“No!” Luna, Murphy and Emori all say in unison. Luna laughs shortly. Murphy and Emori exchange awkward glances.

“What?” Raven is either genuinely oblivious or a damn good actress. “Listen, I fell that one time.”

“And you broke half the plates in the kitchen!” Octavia exclaims, sweeping into the kitchen with her arms full of laundry. “We’re still using Bellamy’s.”

“I asked for a new plate set for Christmas,” Raven grumbles to Octavia’s back. As Octavia loads the washing machine, Raven reaches above her to grab a laundry basket from the shelf and thrust it into Octava’s line of sight. “Use this.”

Octavia swats her hand away. “Is this what adulting has come to?” she asks dramatically. “Asking for practical things as gifts? When did we get so boring?”

“Speak for yourself,” Raven says magnanimously. “I am full of adventure and surprises.”

Murphy snorts, as any best friend would, but his mind and eyes are on Emori, on the way her eyes sparkle with amusement as she looks from Raven to Octavia and back again. The subtle shifts of time have been kind to her; the shadows under her eyes are lighter and the glimmer in them is brighter. Her smiles - the best thing about her, in his opinion - no longer hold sadness behind their bared teeth.

“When are we getting our Christmas tree?” Monty asks, breaking Murphy out of his thoughts.

“Are we getting one?” Raven asks, confused. Octavia crosses the kitchen to the cupboards and grabs her mug. Luna, probably sensing the conversation no longer applies to her, reaches for her bag and starts reading a textbook. Emori picks at a scab on her arm. Monty just blinks, confused. “Hello?”

“Gee, Reyes, I don’t know,” Murphy says finally. “Would you like to get a Christmas tree?”

“I want a Christmas tree,” Emori says softly.

Murphy, Octavia and Monty go get a Christmas tree.

“How did you say we do this again?” Octavia shouts in the general direction of her phone. Only her legs stick out from under the tree they’re attempting to set up in Raven’s living room. The sight would be comical, Murphy thinks, except for the fact that he’s not looking much better; he’s covered in pine needles and sap, and his arm hurts from bracing the tree that none of them can figure out how to set in the base.

“Are you sure it’s in all the way?” Bellamy’s tinny voice asks from Octavia’s phone speakers.

“No!” Octavia yells. “That’s why we called you!”

Murphy cracks a smile at the sigh Bellamy heaves. “I’m going to be there in two minutes. Hold on.”

Octavia extracts herself from the tree and brushes pine needles from her hair. Murphy makes a big show of switching the tree’s weight from one arm to the other. Octavia rolls her eyes. “Better make it a minute,” she says into the phone. “Murphy’s holding up the tree until we can screw it into the base. You know he can’t handle more than five pounds.”

“Hey!” Murphy protests as Bellamy laughs. Octavia relieves him of his tree-holding duties and Murphy escapes upstairs to his room before the younger Blake can convince him to help her a second time. The first time was a rookie mistake

He’s at a loss for what to do in his spare time. His old habit of knocking on Emori’s door tugs at his hands, but he pulls away after a moment of staring at the worn brown wood like a pining idiot. Instead, he goes into his own room - leaving the door open in a moment that lacks his usual paranoia - and flings his closet door open.

“What are you doing?” he hears Emori ask him as he rifles through the mounds of papers, clothes and books shoved into the dark corners of the closet.

“Looking for something,” he responds, trying to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest at the sound of Emori’s voice. It’s low, a little cautious, but not angry. He’ll take it. “What’s up?

“You bought me a tree.” It’s a statement, said with carefulness and a little bit of wonder.

Murphy extricates himself, rocks back on his heels, and looks at her. “Well, it’s for everyone but… yeah. Of course we did.”

She frowns. “That’s not an ‘of course’,” she says.

“It is for us.”

After a moment, Murphy looks behind him. The item he seeks is in plain view, for once. “Aha,” he mutters, pulling the heavy cookbook from the shadows.

Emori frowns again. “A cookbook?”

“My dad’s,” Murphy says, touching the stained, worn cover. “All the best recipes are in here. He changed a lot of them. I don’t really go by the book anymore; just his handwriting.”

Emori holds out her bigger hand and lets him take it to hoist himself to his feet. When she moves to pull her hand away, he holds it a little tighter. “You’re not covering it up.”

She shakes her head. “I… I wanted to try it.”

Murphy gives it a gentle squeeze, feeling a deep sort of affection surge through him at the feeling of her tough skin against his. “I’m proud of you.” The words grate on his throat. He hopes she hears the I’m trying underneath.

It’s not his place to say. He thinks about it after the fact and feels relieved when she doesn’t punch him for it.

“Thanks,” is all she says, with a soft smile. Then she tilts her head to look over his shoulder. “Your closet is a mess.”

Murphy looks back at it, at the piles of books and papers spilling out and the mess of dirty laundry on his floor. “Yeah,” he says with a short laugh. “I guess you could say that.”

“I am saying that.” Emori steps around him and kneels down in front of the open doors. “Do you need these?” she asks, scooping up a pile of papers.

“You don’t have to-”

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “We don’t have anything better to do. Now come on; do you need these or not?”

Murphy sits beside her and together they sort through his mess, one dirty article of clothing and wrecked piece of paper at a time. Emori finds an old photo album that used to belong to Murphy’s mother and flips through it, smiling at Murphy’s first birthday picture and touching his parents’ wedding photo with the fused fingers of her left hand.

“Your mom looks beautiful,” she murmurs, tracing the fall of the wedding veil with a careful hand. “They look happy.”

Murphy pointedly avoids looking at the picture. “They were,” he says gruffly, clearing his throat. His eyes flit to the cookbook on the floor near his foot. “For a while, anyway.”

“What happened?” Emori asks softly. “I mean, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

Murphy shakes his head. This isn’t a piece of him he cares about, not like his abandonment issues and his valleys and mountains. This is the way life was. “He died. He had bad lungs, I guess. Caught the flu from me, but he didn’t get better. He got worse and he died. Mom blamed me, started drinking and died from that.”

It sounds callous, but he thinks he’ll lose his mind if he goes too far back to those times. Ontari had come onto the scene about three months before his mother died. She got him out of the house and the few times when she was kind were good enough for him. Looking back, he was probably just grateful that no one was hitting him. When she made him do something much more damaging, he didn’t mind; he owed her, he reasoned. He owed her for making her put up with him.

Emori frowns softly. “I’m still sorry.”

Murphy shrugs. “At least, when they were both alive, they loved me. And each other.”

Emori nods and goes back to the photo album. Murphy knows better than to believe she’s let the subject drop. She’ll think about it and come back minutes, hours or even days later with another thought, a strange observation, some perspective he never even entertained. It’s who she is.

He loves that about her.

Emori sets the book aside without another comment and goes back to the closet. She pulls out two shirts - both of them wrinkled and stiff - and scrunches up her nose. “John! It’s like you’re in high school!”

Murphy rolls his eyes at her, then yelps when she throws the, admittedly, very dirty laundry at him. “Hey!”

“Get a clothes hamper!” She laughs when he tries to fling a shirt back at her, but only succeeds in smacking himself in the face with it. “I lived on the street for three years, and even I know a hamper is a better solution than this!”

Murphy decides not to touch on the whole “living-on-the-street” thing. Instead, he reaches for the laundry basket of clothes he still hasn’t folded, dumps the clean clothes on the floor and throws his dirty shirts inside. “Happy?”

Emori eyes the clean clothes on the floor, then blinks at him. “You haven’t folded your laundry either?”

“Good behavior comes in small portions,” Murphy snarks, a little bit of truth coloring the frail joke. Emori merely hums and scoots over to start folding his socks.

Is it a little weird to see the girl you possibly love folding your underwear? Yeah. But Murphy doesn’t mind, not when the faint sunlight from the window dances over her hand and she sees him watching. She gives him a tiny smile and rolls his socks into neat balls.

They sit like that for a while in comfortable silence until his closet is organized and his clothes are put away, and then Bellamy breaks the quiet by shouting a litany of curses as what is presumably the tree creaks and crashes its way to the floor.

Murphy and Emori laugh the whole way downstairs, and laugh even harder as Bellamy lays there, on the floor, arms sticking out from either side of a mass of pine needles.

Eventually Bellamy rights the tree. Raven gripes endlessly about the fact that Jasper and Monty’s roomba (“We’re not calling it Stabby!”) was better than a regular vacuum at getting the pine needles out of the carpet, and Lexa and Octavia appear mere seconds after the cleanup ends with arms full of wrapped presents.

“Have you been hiding those this whole time?” Bellamy asks, scratching the back of his neck. When Octavia nods cheerfully, he rolls his eyes. “Of course you have.”

“Can Costia come over to open presents with us?” Lexa asks. When Raven gives her a thumbs-up, Lexa whacks Bellamy on the back. “You should come and bring your hot girlfriend.”

“You have a hot girlfriend too,” Bellamy points out, the wry twist of his mouth emphasizing how awkward it is for him to say the phrase. Murphy is sure he finds it objectifying. “But if Raven doesn’t mind…”

“Everyone can bring someone for all I care,” Raven says casually. “If they can fit, they can sit.”

“Like a cat,” Monty says from the kitchen. Raven doesn’t dignify that with a response.

Murphy looks over at Emori, who’s holding a tiny glass ornament in her hands, presumably plucked from one of the boxes on the couch, which are full of Christmas decorations from Raven’s attic. It’s a small crystal ornament, heavy and solid, with beautiful etchings and a tiny red ribbon to hang it by. Murphy thinks it was a gift from Raven’s grandparents to her mother. Oh well. No love lost there, clearly.

Emori tucks it back in the box after a minute. When she turns her back, Murphy pulls it out of the box and casually crosses over to the dining room table, where Emori’s jacket is draped over a chair. He reaches for it, then remembers he’s trying to do better.

Raven is sitting on a stool in the kitchen, going through his cookbook. “Your dad has surprisingly neat handwriting,” she tells him when he approaches her, the crystal cool in his hands.

Murphy holds up the ornament. “Can I give this to her?” he asks Raven in a low voice.

Raven cocks an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“She likes it.”

Raven’s eyes shift. They go hard, then questioning, then soft. “Sure.” She shrugs. “Mom never really liked it anyway.”

Murphy tucks it into Emori’s jacket pocket. The pride in Raven’s eyes is unmistakable. For the first time in a long while, he lets himself be proud too.

#litany fic #memori #dailymemori #bombshellsandbluebells #daisytachi #sarcasticdebate #maskingtapepoetree #slytherinandreski #i think that's everyone idk

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crownandantler · 6 years

Photo

My first Fallout OC, Seven! Read her Bio below, and explore her companion comments in the link!

Name/Alias: Seven (codename Price in the Railroad)

Age: 26

Karma: Good

Strength 4

Perception 7

Endurance 3

Charisma 5

Intelligence 5

Agility 7

Luck 9

Tag Skills: Sneak, Lockpicking, Repair, (Guns)

Traits: Claustrophobia, Hoarder

Perks: Gun Slinger, Penetrator, Friend of the Night, Fight the Power

Aggression: Aggressive

Assistance: Helps friends and allies

Confidence: Brave

Weapons: .44 Revolver, Shocking-Serrated Sword, Modified Syringer Sniper Rifle (“Medicine”), Weathered Marksman Carbine (“Payback”)

Occupation: Scavenger, Trader, Railroad agent

Fallout 4 Companion Dialogue/Quests: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1v5nQYrejJF149LMJIFTjM3kuj5JBDfcdI88xEn7I2rA/edit?usp=sharing

Combat:

Seven has a sniper build but her aggression is determined by how much spite and hatred she feels for her opponent. She favors long-distance combat, and in most circumstances uses her sniper rifle to off enemies before they see her. Her revolver is for mid-range, but she tends to reserve it for ghouls and wildlife encounters. When faced with legionnaries, she prefers to use her Marksman Carbine for rapid-fire, but always closes the distance (she likes the idea of shooting them with one of their own guns, but likes looking them in the eye while she kills them even more). When she engages in close distnce, she uses her sword to hack and slash at enemies. She enjoys the carnage of it, despite not having the strength to deal one-hit kills with melee. Her endurance is abysmal, so she never comes out of close-combat unscathed, but her luck is so high she always manages to narrowly escape death.

Bio:

The simple story Seven gives to anyone who bothers to ask is that she’s a simple scavenger-trader all the way from Vault 11, just trying to make a living like anyone else. Anyone who knows about Vault 11 and questions and validity, however, or who earns her trust, will eventually learn the truth.

Seven was born Dinah Cooper in the East Central Commonwealth. Her family was part of a quaint farming community that was unfortunately attacked and seized by raiders before she was old enough to understand. She grew up under their tyranny, watching raiders enjoy the spoils of her community’s hard work, all while wearing an explosive slave collar implemented by the cruel leaders.

When she was fourteen, all of Seven’s anger exploded when a raider beat her neighbor. In response, the raider turned on Seven, slashing her throat with a knife. The resulting blood loss left Seven clinically dead for almost an entire minute. The placement of her collar, however, prevented her artery from being entirely severed, meaning the settlement’s doctor was able to save her. Ironically, it was her temporary death that also deactivated her collar. With the unusual (Lucky) circumstances, the doctor was able to fake Seven’s death, remove her collar, move her body outside of the settlement, and hide her. During the nights, he would sneak away to tend to her.

As soon as she was able, Seven ran without warning. After that, Seven slowly but steadily travelled farther from home.

But she had no experience providing for herself. Shortly after her first near-death encounter, she again came close to death from starvation and dehydration. A passing caravan found her before she could die and took pity on her, leading to Seven then bouncing from caravan to caravan under the rouse of being an abused runaway. Being unable to contribute, however, she always outstayed her welcome eventually.

At the age of fifteen, a hunting-trip-gone-wrong put her in the path of an angry yao guai. The beast gutted her, and Seven again embraced death before the doctor of a nearby settlement found and revived her. He was less generous than others had been to her thus far, and Seven spent a year working for the man to pay off her medical debt. During this time she learned to scavenge–what people liked and didn’t, what they wanted and how much they would pay to get it. The doctor taught her the basics of repairing equipment with junk as well as basic medical recipes.

Seven left at sixteen, and that year was stung by radscorpions. She barely survived the poisoning.

At seventeen, she was shot in the back, looted, and left for dead by other scavengers. After this incident, she began concealing her face.

At eighteen, she triggered a landmine while scavenging an abandoned fort. Both of her legs and her left arm were crippled, leaving Seven to drag herself for three days to the nearest settlement.

When she was nineteen, Seven finally made her way to the Mojave. During the first night of camping, the caravan she was travelling with suddenly came under fire by legionaries. Seven caught the spray of a shotgun blast in the side of her face and passed out before the fight really broke out. She was so covered in blood and gore from her companions that the legionaries mistook her for dead. She came to just as her left hand was being hammered to a crucifix, and managed to kill the two legionaries overseeing her body. Help came just before the remaining legionaries fell upon Seven, in the form of the Courier and their companions.

After this event, she officially took the name Seven (after her luck, or the number of times she’s almost died, no one is sure). She sensed something big brewing in the Mojave, and wanted revenge on the legion, so she stuck around as a companion to the Courier. Later, she fought in the second Battle for the Hoover Dam.

Shortly after turning 20, Seven went with the courier to Zion on a caravan job, where she met Joshua Graham. While helping fight the White Legs, Seven experienced her eighth near-death when a White Leg found and pushed her from her sniper nest at the top of a cliff. She landed on her feet, miraculously surviving, but breaking nearly every bone in her feet and legs, and shattering her pelvis. The pain caused her to pass out for a while, but eventually she managed to drag herself upstream to the Sorrows camp for medical attention. She remained in the area until well-after she was healed, then returned to New Vegas to spend three more years among her friends. Then, she and Gotcha packed up and headed East until they arrived in Boston.

Personality/Temperament

-While mature and quick-thinking, she suffers from anger issues. Even as a child she was often overwhelmed by resentment for other people. She carries a lot of grudges and isn't always very good at forgiving people, even for little things. Most of her Good karma comes from shooting raiders and legionaries on-sight. That said--unless you've put a bullet in her, you likely won't have to worry about her putting one in you: She's not petty, stews in her anger instead of acting out most of the time. Outside of raiders, it's rare for Seven to genuinely hate someone.

-Seven has sticky fingers, but luckily she also has morals. She considers most settlements off-limits to her thievery, and only makes exceptions to this rule for very important retrieval jobs. That said, she has been known to steal weapons and ammo from the BOS whenever the opportunity arises.

-Seven is also very meticulously organized. She has caches of various sizes and contents set up across the Commonwealth, and even has some strewn across the rest of the continent from her travels. She also makes regular “investments” with her caps. In total, she’s basically rich, but her caps are so divided across caches, investments, and factions that you’d never know it. Her bartering skills are exceptional with all her years of practice.

-Out of principal, Seven hates nosiness. She's very straightforward with people--you always know where you stand with her, and if she says shes not ready to tell you some thing she expects that boundary to be respected. High charisma, however, goes a long way with her. By the time she reaches the Commonwealth, Seven is well-settled into her lies, and being able to sweet talk her will slowly chip away at the truth. (she will kinda hate you for it, though.)

-Dealing with raiders in any way, shape, or form, tends to send her into panic attacks. She’s gotten very good and hiding them over the years, so for the most part only her best friend Gotcha knows about them, but when something happens to remind her of the first time she almost died at the hands of a raider it triggers one of her bad panic attacks. During these, breathing feels so difficult that she even takes her helmet off. She’s most open about her insecurities during these.

-Seven is a romantic at heart, and actually very flirtatious if she's interested in someone, but her trust issues and prior injuries make romance difficult. She recovered from her fall in Zion with very little lasting effects, but penetrative sex is permanently painful for her, rendering her basically celibate. She’s capable of falling for anyone (In an AU where she is courier 6, she’s got a crush on Yes Man), but tends to prefer men.

-She has an amazing amount of determination. Once Seven sets her mind to something, she’ll get it done, even if that means sometimes compromising her morals to accomplish it. Eventually she regrets these decisions, but making them at all also makes it easier to make them in the future. Meeting Joshua Graham helps put her over-zealous drive and anger into perspective. After leaving Zion, Seven gets a better handle on her anger, starts to check herself more often, and harbors a great deal of respect for Joshua for making her realize the downward spiral she almost fell into.

In her Courier AU, she still has the encounter with the Legion--she she's shot in the head twice, once by a Legionnaire and once by Benny. She still breaks her legs and pelvis at Zion, but she went by herself. She stays in New Vegas to rule with YesMan's help following an independent ending.

Personality-defining decisions (not always limited by canon) made as the courier include:

Sneaking into the Great Khan's camp at night and assassinating them all instead of even trying to make peace with them

Blowing up the BOS bunker without even trying to complete any of their quests first

Regularly visiting the Boomers, bringing supplies and helping with repairs.

Killing the Van Graffs and encouraging Mick and Ralph to take over

Blackmailing Crimson Caravans into supporting the Followers

Working with Swank to off Benny

Killing all the Fiends

Helping Carlitos and Joanna escape Vegas

Going with Boone to kill Caesar

Helping the King, but never really cashing in that favor he owes--she stays on good terms with the King and Freeside

Routing Helios One power to Freeside

Gives caps to Rotface Everytime she sees him, partially for him to keep her in the loop, partially just because she likes him.

#fallout oc #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #original character #crownandantler #post-apocalyptic #woman #scars #gun #scar #sword #character sheet #mojave #new vegas #commonwealth #digital art #seven

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entertainmenttoday101 · 7 years

Text

The Music Industry: Treatment of Male Singers vs. Female Singers

The music industry, teams of people working together to enable artists to record, release, and perform music. Sounds simple, right? It's like that iceberg analogy. We only see the little that's above the water, not that huge chunk of ice under the water. With the music industry we only see the music and performances not what happens behind the scenes. But what kind of problems would arise within the music industry you ask? Quite a bit from money problems, rights to music, getting dropped from labels, not enough people listening and buying. The bigger problem though seems to be ignored by most, and that is the treatment of male singers versus female singers.

Feminism is the social, political, and economic equality of sexes. Many people support, fight for, and protest that to make it happen, especially in the workplace. To most, at first thought the workplace would consist of office jobs, teaching jobs, etc. but how many people would consider the music industry as an immediate workplace? The music industry is a career for many and deserves all the rights as other places do and so do those who work for it. Just because singers are singers, doesn't mean that they should be treated less. They are human beings with real feelings.

How we treat female artists compared to male artists is morally backwards. We praise men for doing certain actions or defend them to the grave but with women we bash them and never forgive them for something they've done. Let's start by looking at some popular singers or the most controversial singers.

Ariana Grande is this generation's pop princess dominating the charts with her high range outstanding voice on her hits that differentiated her from the Mariah Carey comparisons. Most people call her a "diva" but that's not the real issue. In July 2015, Ariana was caught on camera licking Donuts at a shop and was heard saying "I hate Americans." Of course it immediately upset many people. The first time she apologized people thought it was vague and missing the point of the problem with her actions because she was mostly focusing on obesity in America. It wasn't good enough for people so she later posted a video where she sincerely apologized and even acknowledged her weak original apology. But even today, 2 years later, people are still not letting her hear the end of it and for some, that's their only reason for hating her. The White House even cancelled the gig they had with her because of the mistake. It was a mistake that people can't let go and move on from.

Another action Ariana did was a few months ago when she posted a picture on Instagram and captioned it "the hardest working 23-year old in the world." https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/2639485/singer-ariana-grande-faces-backlash-after-claiming-shes-the-hardest-working-23-year-old-human-being-on-earth/

Instantly she was criticized for it. Many people commented on the picture talking about all the other people who have it harder and have to work harder. Ariana never spoke up about it it's assumed that perhaps she was joking or being sarcastic. But again, to this day people take that as another reason to hate her and call her a "diva."

Justin Bieber is probably considered this generation's pop prince. He was discovered on YouTube by Usher back in 2008-2009 and started off with a clean image but somewhere along the road as he got older and more popular, his behavior took a downward spiral. Justin started misbehaving and constantly doing things that upset or harmed others. He's been arrested a few times for speeding, drag racing, and driving while under the influence. These actions are very dangerous and have serious consequences because not only could it harm him, but it could injury others as well. But his fans don't care. They defend him by saying he's a human being, he made a mistake. Here's a video clip showing fans waiting for him after his arrest and supporting him: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kk9nOPI1ueM

People know that speeding is bad, they know drag-racing is worse, and they know that a DUI is extremely dangerous. It's not a simple mistake like accidentally cutting someone off. Justin knew what he was doing and still continued with it and his fans don't understand that.

Justin had also visited the Anne Frank historic museum and offended most people when he left a message in the book stating that he hoped she "would have been a belieber." Not only is it incredibly arrogant of him to say that, but it also disregards the whole point of the museum, the history, her life, and her legacy. Yet his fans once again defended it as a mistake. Those are just two of his intensive record of bad behavior, and those two examples are worse than the scandals Ariana was caught in yet she was treated worse. They are both two of the most successful artists in this generation but Ariana was treated more harshly simply because she is a woman. If Justin or any other man did what she did, they would've found the donut situation funny and agreed with the Instagram caption. That probably came across as slightly sexist but that's how society points views. It seems to be expected.

Sometimes artists aren't punished for their bad behavior and are still being rewarded, like Chris Brown. Chris Brown started off with an innocent image too until in 2009 he physically assaulted R&B singer, Rihanna. The pictures were so gruesome that some people couldn't even look at it. He served time and it's been the one thing still being held over him to this day. Domestic abuse isn't forgivable. You would think that after that incident it'd be the end but over the past years since then he's had a history of abuse and assault towards women. Once during an interview with Good Morning America he even stormed off backstage angry and smashed the dressing room mirror, which can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-lXVFOBRwk

You would think that after all of that, his career would plummet but no, people are still supporting him. In fact, they defend him calling all the incidents mistakes or the Rihanna incident "a thing in the past." A person who engages in domestic abuse will always be an abuser and the fact that his behavior continues that he can still get worse. If a female acted like this, she'd be viewed as crazy. Male artists can get away with dangerous stunts and bad behavior but women artists can't go a day without a non-harmful mistake being held over them.

It doesn't just stop there. The over-sexualization of female artists grows and grows. Most female artists start off with clean, innocent images but then a few years they change and they're older and dress more mature, sophisticated, and somewhat revealing. But when that happens, people comment all the time that now they dress like "whores" and such. If they have provocative dance routines or provocative songs, then they're also deemed as "sluts" and a "bad role model." Then you have male artists who also start off with a clean, innocent image then transforms into an older image that also shows some skin and their songs also become more provocative, along with their videos and performances. But are they bashed? No. They're praised for their "hot bodies." They'll take their shirts off while on stage and he audience will swoon over them, but if a woman strips down then she's a whore. Jade Thirlwall is one of the members of the British girl group Little Mix and she discusses in their book about being over-sexualized. “In the beginning on The X Factor I think they expected us to be a band that wore skimpy outfits, a kind of womanly and sexy look, and at the time that wasn’t us, so we had a bit of a struggle trying to get across that that wasn’t what we were about” (Our World, pg 169).

Is it the females fault though? In their defense, many female artists explain that they're growing up and that is why they dress more revealing. It's a reality check though that not all women need to start showing skin as an indication of growing up. So it proposes the question, is their explanation genuine and true or are they forced to dress like that? “I remember we did an X Factor M&S advert and they put everyone in certain outfits, and when they got to us they wanted us to wear underwear. We were mortified. I was only eighteen, I couldn’t be on telly in a bra and knickers. I think on The X Factor they were used to girl bands being feminine and sexual, but that wasn’t us” (Thirlwall, pg. 169). Camila Cabello, a former member of the US girl group Fifth Harmony, explains that she felt over-sexualized while in the group, “Especially with being a girl group, there's been a lot of times where people have tried to sexualize us to just get more attention. Unfortunately, sex sells.” (Lenny Letter). So is it the industry's fault that female artists are more susceptible to harassment for the way they portray themselves? There was an article of Rolling Stone where the Australian band 5 Seconds of Summer was on the cover, fully naked while covering their genitals and had their song lyrics written all over them. Instantly fans commented on the pictures with heart eye emoji’s, loving it and praising them. They are the same fans who in the past have slut-shamed the girl group, Fifth Harmony. Many people don’t understand the problem and either go along with it or ignore it.

Like Ariana Grande once said in an interview, “The incredible double standards that we [women] face on a daily basis, in the industry and just in the world, it’s shocking,” (dose.com). The music industry is much more than A&R’s, producers, singers, songwriters, CEO’s, etc. It’s not all peachy and keen. There is an obvious imbalance between the treatment between male and female singers and it’ll continue until more people take it seriously and fight just as hard to change it.

-Entertainment Today 101, June 28th, 2017. 3:36 pm.

#entertainment today #journalism #journalism student #feminism #music industry #women #men #ariana grande #justin bieber #chris brown #little mix #jade thirlwall #article #essay #college

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toomanywordsnotenoughink · 8 years

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Solo un besito mas...

“Hey, you know I love you very much?” I nudge my niece. We are sitting on my bed playing some game or other like we always do when she is over.

“Yea I know” She’s always reluctant for words. Then she grabs my hands softly and asks “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“That you’re really, really sick this time?”

I sigh. Here she is short of 11 years old and having to face a reality I wished to shelter her from. “Yes darling. Unfortunately it seems I’ve run out of lives. But hey! No worries! When I go you can have all my nail polish and jewelry okay?” And I smile hoping to remove the sadness out of the reality.

“Okay Mimi” she says and stays quiet for a while. “And Mimi?”

“Yes”

“I love you too” and she kisses my cheek. The most gentle and purest gesture that she could give. And in that kiss grants me all the love that she possesses.

I try not to look directly at her, because if I did I’d break right in front of her. But from the corner of my eyes I see her eyes water and she discretely wipes a tear. So I look up at the ceiling trying my best not to cry. And I remember that quote from the “Fault in our Stars” that says:

“Much of my life had been devoted to trying not to cry in front of people who loved me, so I knew what Augustus was doing. You clench your teeth. You look up. You tell yourself that if they see you cry, it will hurt them, and you will be nothing but a Sadness in their lives, and you must not become a mere sadness, so you will not cry, and you say all of this to yourself while looking up at the ceiling, and then you swallow even though your throat does not want to close and you look at the person who loves you and smile.” ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

I didn’t want to be a mere sadness.

Since about October of 2015 things began to take a downward spiral health wise for me. I was constantly hospitalized weeks at a time with symptoms so vague it was hard to diagnose. 2016 was spent for the most part on tests and more tests, and diagnosis after diagnosis. The doctors sure that a lot of it had to do with my anatomy because of a previous surgery didn’t really have many answers. Few people had lived past all I had. A lot of it is still uncharted territory.

So when we learned during fall that I had a rare condition we met it with mixed feelings. We could finally make sense of what had been happening. But at the same time we were diving head first into such a rare syndrome with very little medical expectations that I’d even be able to survive. It turns out my large intestine and pancreas had made the hole in my diaphragm big and climbed up to my chest. This collapsed my left lung and made it very difficult to breathe. I was extremely tired, and even a walk to the kitchen would leave me breathless. I spent the next months strapped mostly to bed. I couldn’t really handle going anywhere or even walking. With not enough oxygen even holding a conversation too long became unbearable.

I saw 3 surgeons before one decided that surgery was my only way of surviving. But this would be a majorly invasive surgery with a lot of complications in the horizon. Because of my previous surgery in 2009 I’d developed a staph infection in my blood that causes me to fight long term use of antibiotics. My body begins to fight them as viruses. This makes me very prone to infections.

Additionally, because of the previous surgery being so invasive, my body in its healing created a lot of adhesions. This would become a problem because the adhesions would hide vital veins and even position of organs. I was also highly anemic. So going in surgically was a feat. One that not just any surgeon would take on.

A Friday after a doctor’s appointment I began to be so out of breath my sister rushed me to the hospital, by Sunday my body went into total shock when my small intestine began to strangulate and my stomach began cutting blood supply to my organs. I was dying. The surgeon was rushed and within an hour I was downstairs being prepped for surgery.

Nothing prepares you to say a final goodbye to the people you love. With only a 25% chance of making it out alive off of the surgery, we were, for lack of a better word, a mess. My stats went downhill so fast we had very little time to prepare. My brother barely made it before they wheeled me away.

So on a Sunday morning we said our goodbyes, there were promises made, kisses, hugs, and a downpour of tears none of us could stop from coming. All of our hearts were aching. I made sure that my parents wouldn’t be alone during the surgery. And I shot out a goodbye text to my best friend. I made the anesthesiologist wait till my brother arrived and I was able to say goodbye to him and my niece. I realized how truly hard it was, really, to see someone you love slowly slip away right before your eyes. And worst to realize there was nothing that you could do to stop it.

There wouldn’t have been enough time in the world that morning, even if things hadn’t happened so fast. There never is when we are saying goodbye. In my last conscious moments I couldn’t help but cry uncontrollably. I feared that I was leaving a million things unaccomplished, a dozen projects unfinished, and so many words unsaid. Being deathly sick feels like getting to the end of the book and realizing 20 pages have been ripped out and you will never know how the story ends.

But that is death. It doesn’t matter if it’s sudden or it’s been a long time coming, it will always cut off life in the middle of a sentence. And no matter how prepared for it you think you are the rest of your untold life will always be the part that is the greatest loss.

My last thoughts were a memory I held close to my heart. Me at 4 or 5 at kindergarten drop off, and how every morning held the same routine. Instead of saying a short and sweet goodbye to my mom I would always drag it on never wanting to leave her side. I’d keep running back to her time and time again and burrowing my face as far into her stomach as I could. She’d stroke my hair, kneel beside me and in between the whimpering I’d whim “Solo un besito mas”. (Just one more kiss).

Many hours later, thanks to Jehovah I was out of surgery. Everything had gone great and with no major complications the surgeons had successfully repaired the diaphragm and put almost everything back in its place. I awoke in a haze to my family hovering over me. I was incredibly happy to see them.

I spent the next weeks slowly recuperating till they finally let me go home to finish healing. Now I wish I could say this is my happy ending. That this is the ending to this heart wrenching turmoil, never having to face it again. But unfortunately that is not the case. In 5 years the syndrome will reoccur again. Once you are prone to this type of thing it will continue to occur each time getting harder and harder to fix the diaphragm.

I could look at this as a glass half empty type situation, but I refuse to. Worry doesn’t empty tomorrow of its sorrow. Its 5 whole years that I didn’t have before. And maybe that isn’t all the time in the world. Maybe in the end I will still leave a million things left undone and a thousand words left unsaid.

But it also means 5 years of being with my loved ones. 5 more years of memories, of hugs and kisses that I would have not been granted before. And maybe that’s not a lot and it may never be enough in the eyes of many. But too me it means everything. Because if being granted the chance I’d run back every time even if just for… solo un besito más.

#solo un besito mas #miriamsoltero.com #miriam soltero #miriam soltero blog #life as i know it #life as i know it blog #love you most project #the love you most project #love you most

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ladies-of-asgard · 4 years

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The reason that my Jane is different from canon is simply that I wanted to give her a chance. I wanted to make sure that I could justify some of the things that she did, some of the ways she acted and why. In this short- 1588- word essay I have detailed some of the problems that Jane faces mentally. Please understand that- under no certain terms- am I clinical psychiatrist and thus have no authority or knowledge of the actual mental health problems listed. This is combined from my pool of knowledge as well as a bit of research done haphazardly at 11 PM in a hot and sticky environment.

Jane suffers from a handful of different mental health problems and has for years, causing her to become very reclusive and anti-social. She prefers the company of books over humans and it took a great deal of effort on her part to willingly interact with anyone outside of her immediate friend group. She has since become a recluse again, staying at home whenever possible and disliking travel of any kind that isn't to the nearest grocery store to stock up on food. A routine has helped her break the cycle of being reclusive but only barely. Having Frigga got Jane into a routine of walking her and forcing herself to interact with society, even if she wishes she were anywhere else. Not many people actively approach Jane, seeing as she is often very closed off and unwilling to talk to people. She is greatly distressed by meeting new people and acts very cold and aggressive towards them, even if they don't deserve it.

She has been seeing a therapist and she was given a proper evaluation and assigned medication to help with a handful of her problems. The medications she takes sometimes cause more problems than they solve but she refuses to get them changed because she hasn't the time for doing that. Darcy Lewis has attempted to get her to change medications multiple times and it was only after her daughter was born that she began even considering taking her advice, though she was soon back in the US meaning that she'd have to pay frankly unreasonable prices to get them changed.

Jane suffers from anxiety and it negatively affects how she works. She prefers the company of only Darcy and Erik Selvig, as they are people she trusts to not hurt her, while she is working on important projects. Her stint at S.H.I.E.L.D was as short-lived as it was due to her rising anxiety about the place and the people in it. Often, she'll work herself to the bone in an attempt to stay awake longer. She hates sleeping and finds it to be borderline unbearable unless under the influence of her- incorrect- medication. Her friends have to force Jane into sleeping at an allotted time due to her aversion to sleep. It also contributes to her cold, harsh exterior when meeting new people. She dislikes it immensely and does everything she can to get out of that situation before it sends her into a panic attack. She also doesn't eat as much as she should, causing her to develop a mild eating disorder which has affected her life very little. She had around 14 panic attacks while working for S.H.I.E.L.D and has had a further 5 since she and Thor broke up.

Jane also bears the weight of severe depression and has for years, since she was around 10. Bullying combined with her parents- and grandparents- dying in quick succession caused her to fall into a downward spiral that was thankfully spotted by Erik and she got treatment before things got too bad. She has been on the same anti-depressants since she was 11, which has unfortunately developed into an addiction to them. They also no longer help her and she was forced to begin a new course of stronger anti-depressants to get the effect that she should have been getting. This became an issue during college and later university when she was at her worst mentally, her first romantic relationship failed and that sunk her even further down into the darkness. She began losing interest in her research, thus losing motivation to complete certain papers and other things that would have otherwise excited her. It became so serious that her teachers got involved and sent her to a counsellor to speak about her problems, though it ultimately proved to be a waste as the counsellor was rude to Jane and dismissed her problems as lies to get out of doing schoolwork.

Her next proper relationship- Thor- was a time where she was pretty happy. She felt like her life was back on track again after the years of pain and misery she'd been through. Sadly, this happiness didn't last and she was quickly put through the wringer again when she was infected with the Aether. The power was messing with her brain and causing her severe mental distress and since she was on Asgard, she couldn't take her medication to help it. She had to suffer through everything without any help. Then, when they lost Loki, she felt like it was her fault that he'd died as he'd died protecting her. When Thor refused to speak to her, her overactive mind was telling her that it was because he blamed her for what happened with Loki rather than the more logical explanation that he was mourning the loss of his brother instead.

2 years after that, when they broke up in 2015, Jane was put through the wringer again. Her stability in the form of Thor was gone and she blamed herself for it. She beat herself up over it for months, especially once she found out that she was pregnant. Once it sunk in- around 8 months through- she began cleaning her life up so her daughter could have a stable mother instead of a wreck. What didn't help was her workaholic tendencies, where she continued doing her schoolwork even while in agony in the hospital, literally hours from birthing her daughter. Having a daughter made Jane realise that she needed to sort herself out so she could be a better mother.

Thora and Frigga- her therapy dog- made sure she had a routine that was solid enough for her to ground herself with. Jane- using her own methods- was getting better and better as time went on. Everything seemed to be looking up for her and then Thanos happened and suddenly she was dead. Being resurrected by the Hulk 5 years later and learning her daughter was missing and her dog was as well caused Jane great mental distress. She hunted high and low for her baby girl for months, eventually forcing herself to travel to where Pepper and Tony lived to find her. Jane was apprehensive about trusting Pepper but soon became a close friend of the other woman. She realised that she missed 5 years of her beloved daughter's life and it was enough to once again send her into a deep depression.

This time, there was no amount of urging from friends or family nor medication that could help her. For her own safety, Jane was placed in a mental health facility to prevent her from attempting to take her own life. She was- for the first time in years- given the proper treatment and care that she needed, was allowed supervised visits with her daughter once she'd passed a few tests and was released after almost a year inside the facility. They moved back to San Fransico as the place relaxed Jane and helped ease her anxiety. Due to her knowing everyone who she interacted with on a day-to-day basis, she was able to recover pretty well at home. She only relapsed once and that was after she used her incorrect medication by accident. Darcy personally threw that medication out the following day. Jane has days- of course- where she just stays inside and doesn't go outside. This helps prevent her from having panic attacks induced by her mind telling her that danger was around every corner.

Jane has not yet gone back to work, having taken an extended break at Darcy's insistence. She has also expressed little interest in returning to a job that stresses her out, especially since the entire Thanos incident. She'd be forced to answer questions that she doesn't have answers to and reporters would push her even if she expressed her discomfort. It is mostly why she left the work, to begin with. The publicity of her and Thor's relationship, the people's judgement of her and the reporters insistent pushing was all too much for her. Combine that with being pregnant and the fact that she was under immense pressure by her higher-ups to produce consistently good quality work even though she had no motivation to do so. Jane left for her own mental health, one of the more selfish choices she'd made in her life.

Jane is often considered cold and callous by reporters and people who know her, like Thor. The reason they broke up was rather complex. Thor was understandably worried about her getting hurt or killed and he had a duty as the Prince of Asgard to fulfil. On top of that, he believed Jane to be callous and selfish. He didn't want to be with her due to her reminding him of how he used to be. She'd never expressed her problems to him, never explained the reason that she is the way she is and she never got the chance to. While Thor may claim it was a mutual breakup, it was really him breaking up with her. It broke her and it caused her to be very critical of people following him. He caused her downward spiral during her pregnancy but she never blamed him, always blaming herself for being weak. Jane was heartbroken but was never vengeful, she never dragged him down. When asked about Thor, she only spoke highly of him and his family- even Loki- never once dragging their names through the dirt, even though she definitely could have if she wanted to.

#(The Peasant of Asgard: OOC Post)#(The Hopeful Scientist: Jane Foster)#(Our Thoughts on a Page: Headcanons)#[It's long and I'm slightly loopy]#[Forgive me]#tw; mental health

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joneswilliam72 · 6 years

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What I learned at Eurosonic 2019

Once a year, a parallel universe that only exists ephemerally for three to four days sees the European music industry gathering in a seemingly unsuspicious Dutch town. That phenomenon is called Eurosonic.

Primarily seen as a networking battlefield for press, labels, PRs, managers, bookers, and every other weird creature attempting to feed off this demanding, sometimes even ungrateful lover that is the music business, the three-day festival is held in Groningen, a student city very close to Denmark — something you'll literally feel in your bones if you don't come properly equipped — that in mid-January is massively invaded by this strange yet adaptable fauna.

The format of the festival, which roughly consists of multiple showcases across an impressive number of venues, might be reminiscent of the likes of SXSW, but the secret weapon of Eurosonic (and what ultimately distinguishes it from similar events) is this amazing convergence of a multitude of languages, nationalities, and cultural references that inevitability make you reflect on what it means to be "European" — especially in this day and age of paradoxes that juxtapose hermetic nationalism with a growing transversal tolerance.

The focus is obviously the music, and with a massive number of bookers coming to do their shopping at Eurosonic, it also works as a preview of the upcoming festival season both act and trend-wise. As this was my first time at the event I tended to see the whole thing as a socio-anthropological study of sorts, and through a highly scientific method of (nearly) neutral observation, I seem to have reached a couple of primary conclusions about this fascinating ecosystem. Here's what I learned:

Pip Blom by Jorn Baars

- You can easily tell some of the stuff you'll be seeing a lot in the next festival line-ups: Fontaines D.C. are going to be huge and you'll hear about them everywhere. Boy Azooga are also part of The Next Big Hype™, as are Pip Blom and Black Midi.

- Some artists you were excited to see live will disappoint you and others you actually bumped into by accident will become instant crushes, which in spite of being a natural consequence of any live music festival is more deeply felt at Eurosonic.

- There will be sets whose music will hit a bit too close to home: I cried twice, at Michelle Davis & the Gospel Sessions and at Kompromat. I was sober(ish) on both occasions.

- Three pairs of socks is definitely the way to go. It's gonna get very cold and humid so prepare to feel like you're wet all the fucking time (not in a sexual or comfortable way).

- You'll inevitably end up missing some acts from your list due to physical needs alone: I had to give up on seeing Gurr (even if I caught a bit of their afternoon set at Martinikerk) because I desperately had to eat and was too far from the venue. No use crying over these decisions, you have to stand by them. So in a way Eurosonic is also a crash course on how to deal with music FOMO.

Gurr by Jorn Baars

- Ireland always seems to bring a group of incredibly eclectic, melody-driven acts weirdly non-proportional to the country's relatively bite-size area — no wonder they've won Eurovision so many times. My selection included a force of nature called Vulpynes, the feel-good Celtic-driven vocal harmonies of Pillow Queens, and of course Fontaines D.C. who I was unfortunately unable to see due to the ridiculously huge queue.

- Depending on your personal preferences and the way you craft your schedule, it can be both physically and mentally exhausting at times: you jump from bright, uplifting things directly to overwhelmingly downward-spiral ones, and the emotional rollercoaster can feel emotionally draining: going from Alessio Bondi's ray of sunshine vibe to Free Love's in-your-face energy was like temperature shock.

- You'll be checking stuff out due to their name alone: I kicked off day one with a band from Belarus called Weed & Dolphins who play a fun-paced Soviet stoner and regret nothing about my decision.

- Some acts will send you back in time for half an hour. That was the case of The Grand East, one of the many Dutch bands making a Eurosonic comeback, who built an ephemeral time machine to the 70s "I Am A Golden God" era, or personal favourite Juniore that brought massive 60s French surf vibes in their valise.

Juniore by Jorn Baars

- You might feel old at times when faced with some of the young performers' professionalism and maturity. Icelandic Kaelan Mikla look and sound like they've been doing this for twenty years and they're barely out of puberty. Seeing such a young band this tight and shit-serious about their métier definitely of gives you hope for the future.

- Afterparties have an organic way of imposing themselves on you: they will never happen the way you planned them to, and the best ones are those you suddenly find yourself at four in the morning, not quite remembering where you are or who brought you there. You must accept that it is so.

- Genuine fusion is replacing careless cultural appropriation throughout, with musicians respectfully recovering their own roots to reflect these uncannily global times we're living in: Portuguese Scúru Fitchádu mixes punk and metal with Cape Verdean funaná while Swiss duo Cyril Cyril delve deep into the singer's Lebanese ascent to bring an Eastern flavour to their psych melodies.

Cyril Cyril by Bart Heemskerk

- Some of the best acts are the least consensual ones: Le Villejuif Underground played the late night slot at the legendary Vera and dragged a very impressive crowd, but most of the people I talked to after the show either loved it or hated it. From my experience, it's always a good sign whenever a band is this divisive; I personally loved the Primal Scream's Screamadelica vibes and would be up for more in a second.

- But as every rule has its exception, the opposite also happens. Any Other's set at Vera was one of the festival highlights and a name everyone kept dropping throughout the evening (and over the following days). Although she has been frequently compared to Joni Mitchell and other folk singer-songwriters of the like, Adele Nigro is an artist in her own right and not a cheap wannabe pastiche. You'll be seeing her name everywhere soon enough as it's fairly obvious she'll be featured on major festival line-ups everywhere.

- You won't be sleeping much, so try to eat, stay hydrated, and rest whenever you can. The lack of sleep associated to the overwhelming number of concerts happening literally EVERYWHERE across town will contribute to the hallucination feeling you'll experience when you finally get home.

- Even if some things don't go according to plan (after all, does anything ever?) you'll be forever thankful for having taken part in such experience, and will vow to return the following year. With even warmer socks and possibly thermic underwear.

Yes, of course I gathered every artist I mention here in a single playlist so you don't have to. You can explore the full Eurosonic 2019 line-up over at esns.nl.

from The 405 http://bit.ly/2RaWnWq

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mikeyd1986 · 7 years

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MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 96, March 2018

On Monday morning, I went to see Dr. Mah Mah at Narre Gate Medical Center in Narre Warren. I was running late as usual having slept in this morning, that classic Beatles song “A Day In The Life” could be a running monologue to describe most Mondays for me (Woke up, fell out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head. Found my way downstairs and drank a cup. And looking up, I noticed I was late...).

The issues with my ears from the infection to blockage and soreness through the glands and sides of my face was becoming like an episode of Days Of Our Lives (Previously on Michael’s auditory health issues). I was doing everything possible to treat myself, even spending my actual birthday resting up in bed and giving myself regular doses of pain killers and antibiotics. And yet it still hadn’t cleared up or stop hurting.

Being a Monday morning, the waiting room was packed with mum, dads, tradies and annoying screeching children running around (luckily I could only partially hear them). I wished that my doctor could simply prescribe me with a new set of ears (maybe an ear transplant?) but alas that’s not realistic. She advised me to stop taking the Ciproxin ear drops and instead put 10 drops of Waxsol in each ear for the next two nights and came back to see her on Wednesday. I’ll seriously do anything at this point just to get rid of the pain and discomfort. https://1800bulkbill.com.au/medical-centre/narregate-medical-dental-centre

After my appointment, I had birthday shopping to do as it’s my Mum’s birthday tomorrow. Truthfully, I wasn’t in the best state health wise nor in the mood to be shopping but I didn’t really have a choice. Plus it’s my Mum and she’s important to me and I’ll happily put up with an ear infection for her. My first stop was JB HI-FI Narre Warren where I bumped into my friend Tom Armstrong who happens to work at the store. I briefly caught up with him and he helped me out with getting a powerbank. Tom is an absolute sweetheart, no joke!

Next stop was Chemist Warehouse to stock up on my drugs (of the prescription variety of course). I’ve made a couple of trips here recently and now it’s not as daunting and overwhelming as it usually is. I guess you slowly get used to where all the products are located plus it wasn’t that busy. I managed to be in and out within 10 minutes or so. I needed more waxsol drops, cotton balls, a liquid inhalant for my Euky Bear vapouriser and panadeine forte. https://www.chemistwarehouse.com.au/

Lastly I dropped into a lovely little shop called the Berwick Curtain Nook located inside the Village Arcade and off High Street, Berwick. Whilst I was feeling a little awkward coming here by myself, I pretty much knew what I wanted to buy Mum. I got her a paperback notebook with an elephant on the front, a ceramic ornament with a beautiful inspirational quote and a grey Scottish Terrier ornament.

The lady went to the trouble of wrapping the ornaments in tissue paper and placing them in a bright red gift bag as I mentioned that it was my Mum’s birthday tomorrow. Thankfully it didn’t quite turn into the scene from Love Actually with Rowan Atkinson going overboard with the gift wrapping (Any ribbon? Cellophane? Rose petals? A box? NO THANK YOU!) but my pain threshold wasn’t letting up. However, I was very grateful for her service considering how last minute this was. http://www.berwickcurtainnook.com.au/

On Tuesday morning, we celebrated Mum’s birthday by each having a much deserved massage at Body & Balance in Cranbourne Park Shopping Centre. We decided on getting the oil neck and shoulder massage plus reflexology foot massage and hot stone therapy. The lady did a really thorough job without going too intense in the pressure department. I could actually relax into it even with the noise of the broken air conditioner above me.

I did get myself a little confused though as the lady said something quickly and left the room. I was left there wondering if she was coming back or if I was supposed to go outside the room. I was still feeling half deaf and she was also softly spoken so it was difficult to hear her. Looking at the digital clock on the table, it read 10:30am meaning that I still had another 20 minutes and my massage wasn’t over. So therefore I trusted my instincts, got dressed and met her outside.

Mum and I both reclined back on these circular rotating arm chairs whilst our female massage therapists went to work on our feet. It’s been months since I’ve had a proper foot massage done so I could feel how tense and sensitive they were in places but it was still a lovely experience all the same. The only thing that bothered me was that the massage staff were all having a conversation in Chinese the entire time which I thought was kinda rude. But I decided to let it go and tried to focus on enjoying the massage. https://www.cranbournepark.com.au/stores/body-balance/

On Wednesday afternoon, Mum and I saw Dr. Mah Mah at Narre Gate Medical Center in Narre Warren. I think I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been to the doctors in the past fortnight but now I’m getting over it. Thankfully the pain in my ears has eased up quite a bit and the waxsol drops have helped to soften up the ear wax blocking up the ear canals. So it was a huge relief when Mah Mah could syringe my ears so that I could hear clearly again.

I also decided to get a blood test ordered as it’s been over a year since my last one. She added a FBE (Full Blood Count), Urea/Electrolyte/Creatine, Cholesterol/Triglycerides/HDL/LDL, Glucose, TSH (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone) and TES (Testosterone) levels. Over the past couple of months, I’ve noticed that I’ve been having periods of low energy and chronic fatigue so I think a blood test would be really helpful in figuring out what I’m deficient in.

In addition (I literally had a list of things to see her about today, no joke!), I wanted to get the dosage of my antidepressants increased. I’ve been taking Zoloft (Sertraline) tablets at 150mg for about 5 months now and my psychologist recommended that I increase it up to 200mg due to scoring a severe level of anxiety on a recent assessment I did. Plus I have noticed that there are times where the antidepressants seem ineffective when it comes to my mood so it couldn’t hurt to try increasing it.

On Thursday morning, I had my first Employ Your Mind session with my support worker Ally Lamb at Wise Employment Narre Warren. Basically, EYM is “a program that helps build the thinking and social skills that are important for work and other areas of life”. Ally recommended it to be as she knows how much I struggle with communication in social situations and dealing with my mental health issues. http://www.fifeemploymentaccesstrust.com/employ-your-mind.html

The first session was pretty straight forward and more of an introduction to the program. There are four phases in total which each run for 6 weeks with a short break in between. Phase 1 is done individually with the learning coach (Ally Lamb) whilst Phases 2,3 and 4 are run in small groups. We went through what her role as a learning coach is and I also filled in a questionnaire called the General Self Efficacy Scale.

The second part of the session involved the concept of cognitive remediation and going through parts of the human brain (frontal lobe, parietal lobe, occipital lobe, cerebellum, temporal lobe, brain stem). Basically it’s about being able to improve cognitive or thinking skills. Lastly we discussed how mental health issues can affect or impact upon cognitive skills and make it even more difficult to learn, concentrate and retain information. http://www.wiseemployment.com.au/en/community/ndis-supports-and-services/

Unfortunately my ears were still not 100% clear even after I got them syringed/irrigated at the doctors yesterday. It’s hard to explain but they still “feel” blocked even though my hearing is a lot better than it was earlier this week. I could be experiencing tinnitus or that my ear canals are too dry and not lubricated enough. Hopefully it clears up and heals naturally over the next few days.

On Friday morning, Mum and I went to the Morning Melodies social function at the Waltzing Matilda Hotel in Springvale. We were running late (no surprises there!) so we didn’t end up getting to the function room until around 10.45am or so. Thankfully we caught most of the performance though. Today we had Brian Muldoon doing the “Johnny O’Keefe tribute” show. It was partly a history lesson as Brian talked about Johnny’s life back in the early 60’s and 70’s, the television shows we became known for and the downward spiral that followed due to his mental illness.

Brian performed many of his classic hits including Shout!, Sing Sing Sing, She Wears My Ring, So Tough, The Sun’s Gonna Shine Tomorrow, It’s too late she’s gone, The Wild One and She’s My Baby. Most of Johnny O’Keefe’s songs carried a positive, uplifting message to them in order to help people’s moods up and push through the tough times in life. I feel like this is very relevant to the challenges we face in life today. https://www.entertainoz.com.au/listings/brian-muldoon/artist_profile_details

On Friday night, I went to a Vinyasa flow yoga class with Jade Hunter at YMCA Casey ARC, Narre Warren. I haven’t been to a fitness class in nearly two weeks now due to my health problems and being busy with other commitments like my birthday, appointments and my VCAT hearing. However, considering my ears were feeling a lot better, I decided to go back tonight. It’s funny how quickly you miss the gym when you haven’t been for a while.

I also read that certain yoga poses can help to unblock and relieve the pressure built up inside the ear canals so there’s another good reason to do. Tonight was a little more challenging than usual with lots of balancing, twists and binds thrown into the mix. I wasn’t really prepared for all of that nor did I have the flexibility to do everything Jade was demonstrating (Putting my legs behind my head? Yeah right!).

We did our usual Vinyasa flow sequence (Downward Facing Dog, Plank, Chaturanga, Cobra/Updog) plus Standing Poses (Warrior 2, Standing Forward Bend, Half Lift, Chair pose, Reverse Triangle pose), Seated Poses (Boat pose, Staff pose, Wide Legged Forward Bend, Happy Baby) and Inversions (Shoulder Stand, Plow pose). I could hear my ears popping which was a good sign plus my body heated up quite quickly during the class.

Jade does go the extra mile though considering we are doing yoga inside a creche. She added candles, burning incense, beautiful yoga music and some brass Tibetan bowls and chimes to the space which gave it the appropriate atmosphere for a yoga class. https://www.doyouyoga.com/the-perfect-vinyasa-flow-routine-for-beginners-30159/

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katmac95 · 7 years

Text

Why the fuck do I have PTSD?

Some first blog post, eh?

I’ll be using this blog to say things that are a bit too long for Twitter, but things I still feel the need to say.

First, I want to talk about my PTSD and why I have it.

Some people don’t like talking about their trauma. I need to. I don’t enjoy talking about it, but it does make me feel freer when I do. It gets it out of my head and off my chest, so to speak. And that helps me.

This post may not be pretty but it’s not supposed to be. The stuff I’m going to share is all very raw and rough, so its delivery will reflect that.

*deep breath*

I’ll start from the beginning, I guess.

From the time I was small, my father beat my mother. Often, he did this in front of me. My mom left my father with me in tow after sixteen months of marriage, and they were divorced shortly after. I still remember him coming after us with a knife when I was a baby. I remember times when I’d hide behind the toilet and refuse to let anyone touch me. I remember screaming at the top of my lungs because I was scared to death and that terrified energy had nowhere else to go.

When they divorced, my father was awarded partial custody of me by the state. God knows how a man with multiple convictions of DV and drug possession could get partial custody, but whatever. He did.

During his visitation weekends, he would often: hit me, swear at me, call me names, hit me with a belt or other objects, hit my dogs, break my things, withhold medical care (I once broke my foot under his care, and he refused to take me to a hospital), didn’t feed me (I taught myself to cook at 5 years old because of this, though he’d get angry if I tried to feed myself on the days when he wouldn’t).

And when he’d get new girlfriends, he’d beat them, too (again, in front of me). I remember one night, my dad was mad at his long-time girlfriend (they were off and on for most of my childhood) for one thing or another, and he slammed her hand in a door and broke it. I was in the next room, and I still remember her screams and the mangled mess he’d made of her hand. She filed a police report against him, and he went to jail for that.

I believe he’d been to jail quite a few times by the time I came into the world. When I was a kid, I remember him being incarcerated three separate occasions. I’m pretty sure two of those three were for domestic violence, the other for drugs. Or perhaps vice versa. I’m not sure, but his buddy would always bail his sorry, stupid ass out. Even as a kid, I remember hating that buddy, and wishing my father would stay incarcerated until I turned eighteen. At least then, I wouldn’t have had to see him.

Yeah, so, about the drugs... My dad’s drug of choice was meth. Or, well, his buddies referred to it by its street name, aka “crank”. He smoked it, sometimes around me. It smelled like sweat, cat piss, and cookies, in case you wondered. Now, meth has a rep for being one of the worst drugs on the market, with good reason.

First, there’s the rush. The person will wig the fuck out, but at least they’re “happy”-ish… It’s mania to the extreme. If depression is a low, then meth is high, HIGH, H I G H. Some people gouge their eyes out, others talk seven miles a minute and make you watch Alex Jones and read Andrew Anglin (yeah, my father was a keeper). He was never quite “gouge out his eyeballs” bad, but I do remember some weird manic shit (he once hooked a package of hamburger meat to some jumper cables from his car because the government had supposedly installed nanotechnology in this particular package of meat to spy on him).

Then would come the downward spiral when the rush began to fade. His mania would very quickly shift to irritability, anger, paranoia, and he would threaten to (or actually) beat the shit out of me for “looking at him wrong”. Or he’d threaten to kill himself if I did something he didn’t like. Or he’d threaten to drive us off a cliff, to kidnap me, or to [insert suggestion here]. Being with someone coming down from a rush is fucking terrifying, to say the least.

Finally, there’s the crash. The user will become so tired, they’ll spend entire days in bed. They don’t eat, they don’t acknowledge their responsibilities, they just kind of lie there like they’re dead for the whole weekend and get upset with you if you ask them to make you food (even though you’re a child and afraid of burning yourself on the stove because you’re not tall enough to actually reach it yet).

Through all this, my mom did pretty much nothing, despite the fact that I told her literally every single weekend that I was scared my father was going to kill me. I implored her to ask for sole custody (the fact that I knew that term at six should’ve been a clue that I knew what I was talking about), but she refused because she was scared of him. I was, too, only I couldn’t do anything about it without her help. CPS was called twice on him, but I wasn’t bruised “enough”. And my mother was too afraid to act, so nothing was done. Though I estranged myself from my father at fifteen, he had partial custody in the state’s eyes until I was eighteen.

Next up, my childhood babysitter, who was a right piece of work. Her children would steal my belongings and then claim they were theirs (I remember this little foam souvenir I got from Seattle that her kids took, and when I went to retrieve it, I was punished). This daycare provider’s methods of punishment were archaic. She and my father would’ve been great friends, I think. This woman would punish us by literally locking us in a 2x2 coat closet for hours at a time. We couldn’t sit, we had to stand. We couldn’t make noise, we had to “think about our actions”. And it was completely dark; even the gap under the door was covered. Now, I was kid who–with my trauma history–acted out a LOT (I mean, daily), so I dare say I likely spent more hours inside that closet than out of it when I was 3 and 4.

Oh, and when she was extra angry, she’d step on our hands or backs.

Yes, that sounds unbelievably barbaric. Her daycare facility was closed down in 1999 or 2000, I think, because a parent threatened to sue (or did sue, I’m not sure).

When I was young, my dad used to leave me with people I didn’t know in our neighborhood, while he… well, I don’t know what he was doing, but I’m guessing it involved something illicit. Anyway, this one time, when I was six, he left me with a teenage boy who lived across the way (my dad gave him a few dollars to babysit or whatever). And this kid had seemed nice enough. But, part of the way through the day, we rode our bikes down to the local creek to skip rocks. The boy threatened to drown me if I didn’t let him grope me. I’m not proud of this, but I acquiesced. He got mad at me for resisting, and threw me and my bike into the creek. My dad got mad at me for it.

And onto the next trauma, which is definitely in the same vein as the last. I mentally and emotionally cannot handle going into specifics here, but when I was ten, I was raped by a doctor. I was then groped by another doctor when I was eighteen. This is the only chunk of trauma I will keep relatively private, because it remains the most traumatic experience of my life and I just can’t talk about, it other than to acknowledge that it happened and that I’m terrified of doctors as a result.

Last one about my dad, I promise.

My dad would sometimes show up at places where I was (school, out to meals, etc.). These were places he was not supposed to be, mind you, as he wasn’t supposed to see me outside of visitation weekends. Sometimes, he used to threaten to kill himself/ me/ others/ pets with his rifle (the only reason I knew he had a rifle was because he kept threatening to use it). He would physically block my exits, always had to control where I was or who I was with, and liked to grab my wrists to physically restrain me. I mean, he was the epitome of abusive white male. My father is the most vile excuse for a human being that I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.

While we’re talking physical abuse, when I was a kid, I had a scout leader. This one time, when I was fifteen, she was mad at me for “mouthing off” when I refused to do something (a chore, because I’d been doing all the chores and I didn’t think it was fair that I was always working while my peers had all the fun–that was a valid complaint, btw). She got mad, came up on deck of the scout boat, grabbed me hard enough to leave bruises, dragged me down a ladder by the arm, and physically prevented me from going back above deck until I had done the stupid chore.

Because I felt unsafe, I left the program and tried to join another unit. But they turned a blind eye (because that’s scouting in America). I left the program altogether and forfeited all the awards I’d spent multiple years to earn. I failed my junior year of high school because of the resulting period of depression (I also dissociated the entire year of 2012, and don’t remember 99% of that school year).

Throughout all of this, my mother was... I mean, she tried in her way. I believe that. But when I sought comfort or told her I was suicidal, she’d say things like I was annoying or she should’ve aborted me. So, while I’m sure she cared in her way, she didn’t (or couldn’t) be what I needed in a mother. She was often just as angry and unpredictable as my father, though far less violent.

My mom also tends to shut down or change the topic if the current one makes her uncomfortable. She’d often give me the silent treatment as a kid, until I dropped whatever it was we were talking about. Or she’d yell at me/ call me names/ whatever. Unfortunately, many of these conversations had to do with my abuse, so these hurtful things often came during times when she knew I was already vulnerable. While I believe my mother cares and has always cared, she was not able to protect me as a child, and I don’t know if I can make my peace with that. She wasn’t able to be what I needed, and that has weighed on me for most of my life now.

I’ve never really had a safe adult in my life to turn to. I don’t know if anyone can be what I need, but I know I still need it. And that’s a tricky place to be. My therapist has said I should’ve been placed in foster care, and I’ve often thought maybe my life would’ve turned out different—better, even—if I had been. Though, I suppose there’s little point dwelling on this; I will never know, and I’ll have to be okay not knowing. I just wish I had a safe “chosen family” to kind of balance out all the chaos. Like an anchor, I suppose.

I have tried to kill myself three times, the most recent of these attempts in September 2017. I regularly struggle with nightmares, suicidal thoughts, shame, guilt, anger, lying (I tell people I’m fine when I’m not, or that I’m taking better care of myself than I am), trouble focusing, and the list goes on and on. I also curse like a fucking sailor, in case you hadn’t noticed (it’s angry energy that needs a place to go... I’m not punching anybody).

So, that’s why the fuck I have PTSD.

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