#(for some reason it's harder for me to remember weekly shit than daily shit) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haleviyah · 3 years

Text

A Hispanic/ Latino Perspective: Border Clarification

This is one of the rare times I’m going to get somewhat political here, but these comments spread by the media are hitting to way close to home for me, so here I go.

Before you pounce on me, let me explain this: I am a moderate. I favor no sides, I don’t treat people by their titles but rather I prefer to judge by character even though I am not the best at it, admittedly. I favour and respect those who keep their word and own their mistakes. In short, if you do what you promise to do, you have my approval whereas if not, you will bear the brunt of my blunt rebukes and sarcastic remarks.

I am also from South Texas, specifically the Rio Grande Valley, and am a descendent of two humble Mexican families who since the Mexican Border War have made Texas their great escape and home.

Bit of a geographical reference, if you don’t know here where the Rio Grande Valley is. Look at the state of Texas, there is a bulge of state going in each direction that makes it look like a fat, lower-case ”t” : El Paso is the most West of the state, the Panhandle (Amarillo) the Northmost, Texarkana the most Eastward followed by Houston, and WAAAAAAY at the bottom is Brownsville and the Southernmost tip of Texas.

And for those of you too lazy to Google or "DuckDuckGo" the map yourself I've attached it:

The four counties: Hidalgo, Cameron, Starr and Willacy county make up the Rio Grande Valley. This is the region I grew up, the place where I experienced the best of a community and the worst of politics and failed promises.

For a bit of background: I have a parent working on the Border and they have been for many years (since I was a kid). Pretty much worked from a security officer to trooper within the span of a decade which is quite impressive and rare considering they never took bribes or anything to get where they were currently. They have told me off and on what their job is like. It’s crazy and boring some days, but also they have admitted somethings that may be fascinating. One of which is, yes, they do own horses and the reason why is so the Troopers can maneuver around tough terrain vehicles cannot go through (such as high water or narrow foot paths in brush). HOWEVER, they DO NOT OWN WHIPS. They don’t even own lassos, according to my Border Agent parent.

The only weapons agents on horse back have is a Glock, ammo, a taser, cuffs, and sometimes shot guns (but they prefer to carry light for the horses and themselves to be more flexible). They mainly carry items that would slow a person down or prevent them from hurting other people, officer or civilian; not for killing. So a whip is absolutely redundant or even absurd to have.

Those long ropes the Troopers are holding are called reins, and they are designed for steering a horse (horses cannot move opposite of the direction of their head; where their head is pointed they move in that direction). They are not made for whipping people, but rather made to get the horse’s attention. That’s it.

I took the liberty of highlighting the reins in red for you all as well as their arms and legs in blue and yellow in contrast to the reins and saddle.

It's clear from a Texan's or horse-riders perspective this Trooper almost fell off catching the other fellow and was holding onto the left rein for dear life hence why the horse looked distressed and its cheek was pulled back.

I'm not joking, you fucking try it if you're so damn horse-smart.

Now, let's look at a more relaxed position.

In short, if you haven't ridden a horse, I advise to keep your comments to yourself on this part. I have and it's way harder than it looks (horses can get cocky).

Second thing, the migrants.

Personally, I don’t know why they were so squirrelly that day. Perhaps they were spooked because they’ve never expected horse back riders to show up, maybe they had some bad experiences back home.

I don’t know!

But it’s clear there appears to be a lack of communication. Perhaps it’s the language barrier given that these guys came from Haiti, African countries and Brazil. English they probably know, but they probably don’t speak a lick of Spanish (Which both languages are mandatory for the Border Patrol).

(Again, I don't know...)

So the reasons why they started running circles around the Troopers’ horses is not for me to speculate, it’s not for YOU to defend blindly, nor is it up for the media to interpret and evangelize.

That should be left to the people to explain. No one else.

(Update: September 29th. I received a tip from a source that the Haitian immigrants (mainly) are not running from anything, they aren’t seeking asylum nor were in poverty as the media claims. They have admitted upon interview they were what we consider middle-low class and had no issues finding jobs before they decided to migrate northward. They’re just coming because they were told to come by “you-know-who”… that’s all. I know, I’m taken aback and scratching my head, too… but anyway. I digress, but do take note.)

Now, another bit of feedback I want to share: When it comes to dealing with Troopers (again, must I remind you this is a Border Patrol agent’s kid speaking), big rule:

DO NOT RUN nor MAKE THREATENING MOVEMENTS. Be calm.

It’s a simple rule, if you’re cool with the Troopers they’ll be cool with you. That’s it. Please respectfully keep in mind, these guys are trained to be safe rather than sorry. So patience and understanding with them is a must. Trust me, I’ve met my parent’s co-workers, they may look stoic and scary or condescending, but they can not let personal emotions interfere their work otherwise they risk safety.

They’re not “paranoid” or “harsh” they just have a job they cannot afford to fuck up otherwise the whole region is FUCKED. They’re the front line of defense, and do keep that in mind.

(Another footnote: I have seen Border Patrol offices, and without giving away how they function it’s not like CIA or Langley level of clean or fancy, so don’t think their offices are high tech and have marble floors with comfy lounges that cost a lot of money. Upon first glance you won’t expect the building to be an office. Border Patrol work with what they have available which isn’t a lot thanks to the ’00, ’04, ’08, ’12 and current administrations. That’s all I can give out.)

I’m going to come clean here and say the citizens in the Rio Grande Valley and the rest of Texas DO NOT FEEL SAFE with a border this wide open and no regulation is applied. Especially the Hispanic/Latino communities. So the pressure is on - and I mean REALLY on! Despite these guys working the Border are overwhelmed, they keep those emotions and opinions on lockdown when on the field. Like I said: If they fuck up, the region is fucked.

Bit of a history lesson: the Border issues on the Rio Grande are not new. Matter of factly, this problem has been happening for decades (The popular peak was during the 80s when cocaine was being distributed), but it was more than just cocaine and pot: Kids were going missing, people getting killed, women were used as mules and sold for sex, etc.

If you watched “Narcos” or “Sicario” you have a brief, dramatized taste of how the cartels function and what life is like for us Latinos. However, coming from someone who grew up there, the parts of watching your back, the abductions and even the gruesome murders are legit. To this day I remember seeing local news coverage (not CNN or MSNBC, our own stations down in the McAllen/Brownsville area) of beheadings, child murders and bodies being found in pieces… It’s something I hope my children won’t have to grow up hearing almost weekly like I did. Now it’s daily… and no one cares. And that hurts.

In the grand scheme of things, at least know this: South Texas has been part of the Cartel battle grounds and it’s obvious we’ve seen shit. Constantly being ignored is the payment we get for being front lines in the Drug War. So don’t blame us for being jumpy, or skeptical, nor even try convince us that the current surplus of immigrants is a good thing.

You can’t argue with our own experiences and history. The way things work down here is simple: You fight along side us, we fight along side you.

It’s called building trust, practicing faith. But we’ve been forgotten and lied to too many times by celebrities and politicians and social movements alike. And those who actually were going to help us are either shut down or unfortunately killed.

We just can’t trust anyone anymore. We are resorting to fending for ourselves basically, speaking up for ourselves… and so far it’s making progress in the mean time.

This level of “doing things on your own” bleeds into why our Troopers are trained they way they are trained - to expect the worst case scenario. To prepare themselves for the corpses, when a criminal pounces, the drugs being hid, for when they find a child with an adult they don’t know, or even a woman who was violated. They just genuinely don’t want to take chances and you just read why. Even my in-laws up in the Northern Midwest are disturbed.

So, considering the case of what happened a few days ago in Del Rio, Texas (as of writing this on September 25th 2021): If you run from a Trooper the first thing they are going to think is either two things:

You did something bad upon coming in to the country or

You don’t want your former government to find you because you did crimes in your home country or the country you were hiding in.

This is protocol, not biased opinions.

If, however, a Trooper commits any form of irresponsibility (such as abusing their power, unreasonable search and seizures etc.) it’s “kiss your badge good-bye” and DEMOTED or FIRED. The stakes of keeping your job in the Border Patrol are HIGH, so they are trained not to act out of line. Even a minor slip up in paper work from being fatigued gets you in SEVERE trouble with the Higher Ups and the County (Yes, that does happen and has happened). But you have to KNOW Border Patrol standards before you accuse them of anything.

With that being said, what’s floating around is not a constructive argument; it’s a distraction. How the public is demanding the trooper in the photo to be fired, tells us Latinos loud and clear that - once again - no one cares about our livelihood; no one is willing to brave enough to face the real hell going on. We are ignored or low-key demonized for simply defending ourselves.

(Now, you guys are seeing why I relate to my Jewish husband and the Israeli’ citizens - Arab and Jew - more; we’re pretty much in the same boat in the case of being ignored. But I digress.)

Before I come to a conclusion, here are other demographic facts to keep in mind that way it’ll help draw conclusions:

86.6% of the Border Patrol is HISPANIC/LATINO in the State of Texas alone.

A majority of children stolen from their families or molested are HISPANIC/LATINO.

A majority of the women violated immigrants on the border are mainly HISPANIC/LATINO.

Latin America collectively (Mexico down to Colombia and Venezuela) has the highest rates of femicide in the world.

So for you or anyone to get angry at Border Patrol agents in an unjust manner, not only are you getting mad at Hispanics and Latinos in UNIFORM for fighting to keep their communities safe, but you are actively contributing to the hell our families go through every day.

When you protest in demand for our cops or even troopers to be defunded, and fired for petty things, YOU are actively contributing to the problem of human trafficking, rape, kidnappings and murder that happens on the border. You are contributing to the Hispanic and Latino communities being dismantled and disintegrated by people who potentially want to kill us or hate us for money’s sake.

Take all of that into consideration before you get angry at anyone here.

In short:

I’ll only consider the accusations if you yourselves have been there and know the burdens we bear.

I’ll only consider your judgement if you genuinely are in law enforcement and know how to ride a horse and try to stop someone from running while riding the beast.

I’ll only consider your feedback if you don’t rely heavily on news like CNN, Telemundo and Tumblr for your information.

Until you grab a gun and fight the cartel yourself, and figure out a way to end this war on human trafficking, don’t come to us Latinos and express that you care and appreciate us.

Because frankly if you GENUINELY did, you’d bring to light what I just said and be slamming the desks at D.C. and DEMANDING the Border to be CLOSED by now.

Regardless of your political and personal beliefs, this is what is REALLY going on, and we’re going to keep fighting. Like the Israeli’s we don’t give a fuck if you hate us. We’re not radicals, we’re not blood-thirsty heathens, we’re not white supremacists (80+% of our population is of Latino Mexican descent) we’re just fed up with running away and being taken advantage of or taken for granted by people who value money over the lives of our neighbors.

If this were California, fine! Rail all you want, cuss us out as much as you want; hold us to those to California standards you keep yourself. But we’re not California.

We’re not D.C., nor Chicago, nor L.A., or New York, Florida, Canada, Mexico or whatever. We are SOUTH TEXAS so treat us as SOUTH TEXAS.

Honor us for who we are and hold us to the standards of what is SOUTH TEXAS, what is The United States Constitution, and the Texas Constitution; nothing more and nothing less. Don’t tear us down for what we’re not nor hold us accountable to an opinion or law we never agreed to nor knew existed.

That’s all I ask: If you’re not willing to honour our community and help us while holding us to our standards on a cultural, State or Federal level, back the fuck off. Generations we’ve dealt with the pressure from both the cartel and corrupt government from both the U.S. and Mexico, and the last thing we need is pampered kids living in the high rises or going to university on loans from school or your parents' paychecks, telling us how to deal with our issues.

You are FAR from a place to tell us how to function and resolve our war.

I’m not trying nor want to start a fight or otherwise, but I’m simply, humbly asking: when did we ever genuinely ask you “social justice advocates” to be our hero?

When did we ever ask you to fight for us or talk about what you think is wrong with us? Because last I checked we don’t want to drag anyone into our battles.

Also, we only know one messiah, but we never asked you to be him nor for him to act like you.

Did you start throwing punches because you wanted to find something to excuse your anger and outbursts, or is your good intentions married with ignorance?

Either case… it’s extremely unhealthy of you, and please just stop before another person gets hurt. We don’t want that. This is no different from the Crusades our ancestors took part in, and it will only end in more carnage than already sown.

So, just please, stop and take a step back for a moment. We don’t need anymore vehement evangelical-like people who just think with their ideals and not take a moment to have a healthy discussion with the One who created us, or let alone divorce their lust for a fight for ten seconds.

To close this off, even though I haven’t been home in a while, I know the spirit and the struggles the Rio Grande Valley goes through. I have met people on the run from the cartel first hand, and I have met people who may have ties with the cartel. I have seen some creepy shit, I have grown frustrated over the Protestant Baptist church doing nothing, and I have even been feeling the pressure my parent goes through with these apathetic riots threatening their job as a Border Patrol agent.

But aside from the pain, I am tremendously blessed that people and my family are still very optimistic despite the craziness and how bleak things are.

The family-oriented culture of the Rio Grande Valley is what is keeping it together… not trends, not clout and neither these guys in D.C. or Hollywood who are playing G-d.

It's the family-oriented connection. Our faith, that's keeping us going.

And even though I may not be the best voice of that region to speak up, I am blessed to have been there and I do plan on coming back soon.

I am planning on giving a more fun journal featuring the culture of the Rio Grande Valley in the future to finish this month off, but for the sake of this “Hispanic Heritage Month” I wanted to share our REAL issues we deal with rather than the made up ones that media likes to mainstream for money and clout.

In a way, I hope this offers clarity and a level of empathy. Again, I’m not sharing this to start fights or get sympathy - we don’t want it. We just want to know if our fights are not ignored, we just want to know we are heard.

That’s all.

4 notes · View notes

curly-bangtan · 4 years

Text

A Drop of Heaven II: Doll

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Seokjin x reader, some Taehyung x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: blood drinking, mentions of abuse, obv blood and gore, kind subtle baby girl fetish?? oc has trust issues

Word count: 9k

A/N: This took me so much effort to write for some reason… SIGH I feel like it’s shit and disappointing cos it contains filler info that’s necessary for plot building. As for the lack of _smut_ (which ik is what y’all filthy animals are here for), I promise the next chapter will make up for it!!

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

“Here you go.”

The clang of the white floral-embossed porcelain dish against the glass surface of the dining table sounds particularly crisp to you ear. The fresh pungent seafood smell infiltrating your nostrils, strong and unmistakable, answering your gurgling stomach.

“Lobster truffle tagliatelle.”

You stare, gobsmacked, at the melon-sized plate of pasta placed in front of you. It’s been so long, so long, since you’ve had a remotely satiating meal. Eyes and mouth watering from the delicious scent, you almost don’t know where to start digging in.

“T-Thank you.” You remember to say, though it comes out as a stammer. The corner of Seokjin’s pursed lips turn up slightly, enough for it to count as a smile.

Fork in your hand trembling in excitement, you impale a large chunk of fresh juicy lobster and twirl a good portion of pasta around it. When the flavour touches your tongue, a grenade of bliss detonates in your mouth, flooding up to awaken the pockets of happiness in your mind that have laid dormant for a while. You can’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes almost indecently.

You stop mid-groan when you remember your whereabouts and present company.

“This is amazing. Thank you for cooking for me.” Clearing your throat, you thank Seokjin again. As you glance up at him, you notice the blush creeping on not his cheeks, but his ears. In any other circumstances, you would find it endearing.

“You’re welcome, it’s my pleasure.” He has a habit of not meeting your eye when he speaks to you, it hasn’t taken you even a day to notice, as his attention currently fixes on a particularly large blotch of oil stain on his cooking apron. “I… enjoy cooking.”

After the happenings yesterday, the taste of Namjoon’s blood still tingling the buds of your tongue, you have been trying to steer your mind away from him. You had learnt that vampires sleep during the day, while staying active at night. It had been Monday morning when Namjoon left you in the room after… that thing, and you haven’t seen him emerge from his room since, not even in the evening when he was supposed to be awake.

Good, you don’t want to even remotely think about that. Or him.

You hope you won’t have to encounter him again for the rest of the week now that your day with him is over. That sire bond magic… The memory of the carnal compulsion throbbing in your head and chest makes you shiver.

Is that going to happen with all of them? Because if so, you don’t know how long you can keep hold of your sanity.

So for the rest of the day yesterday, in the absence of your sire to dictate you around in his obnoxiously stern voice, you took it upon yourself to explore the manor and try find out more about this predicament you’re caged in. You made it not ten steps out your room in the eerie candle lit hallway when you stumbled across Hoseok. No, stumbling across is perhaps not the correct term. You have a feeling he had been lurking around, waiting for you.

In your weak-willed confuzzled state from the fixing of the sire bond, you could all but refuse to let him take you on a grand tour around the maze of a mansion the seven of them inhabit. Hoseok had leaped at your response, so enthusiastic, resembling a child receiving a brand new toy he had been begging his parents for.

Despite his constant unfailing smile, there is something quite uncanny about the red-haired vampire. If you look at him for long enough, you can spot the smallest spark of madness behind the glaze of his eyes.

Still, regardless of your hunch, you allowed him to tug on your freshly healed wrist after him. Last time you defied Namjoon, that happened. You didn’t dare to seek the repercussions of challenging another vampire, especially one appearing as eccentric as Hoseok.

Stunning is perhaps too little a word to describe this estate - this is a place of fairytales. Two stories high, a garden the size of a park, a swimming pool to supplement the natural rock pools and ponds, a fertile greenhouse, a library fit for royalty, an underground gym next door to the cinematic movie room… Almost all the facilities one would find in a town located under a single roof. On the second floor are the seven bedrooms, and though Hoseok didn’t take you into any of them, he explained that they are all ensuite and connected to another private room.

“It’s called the Feed room, where the Feed of each vampire resides. The room you were in earlier was Namjoon-hyung’s, his bedroom which he doesn’t allow his Feeds in is through the door opposite the bed.” The door through which he had fled, you had noted in your head. “We don’t normally enter each other’s Feed rooms - it’s disrespectful, invasion of an extremely intimate space.”

No wonder Namjoon had been so displeased with Jimin.

“I guess how it will work now that all seven of us are sharing you,” Hoseok continued. A muscle in your throat twitched at ‘sharing you’. “Is that at the end of every day at midnight, you will rotate to the next Feed room where whoever awaits you. Kinda like… speed dating, but with feeding, and minus the speed ‘cause it lasts a whole day, and also it’s a perpetual weekly cycle.” He let out a sudden burst of laughter, as if he had said something funny, but you found no humour in the situation.

A perpetual weekly cycle. For the rest of your life. Rotating between seven vampires every single day.

The malignant lump in your throat grows, suffocating you.

Hoseok paid no heed to your lacklustre reaction at his supposed joke, instead threw an arm around you and guided you down the corridor. You didn’t run into anyone else in the duration of the tour, no doubt because it was the middle of the day which meant the vampires were all fast asleep.

You wished you ran into someone, anyone, even Namjoon. The sole company of Hoseok was making you uneasy. His overt eagerness towards you, almost like a pet dog, threw you off your axes. Every time he reached out to touch you in some way, though it’s always a harmless friendly gesture, you suppress the instinct to move away.

He appears a very simple man, genuinely happy all the time, child-like cheerfulness, very easy going. But that is all the more reason to fear him. He can act like this with you now, as if you are his friend, yet will also show no mercy in drinking your blood. You still remember how fanatically impatient to feed on you he had been, practically pouncing at your collarbone once given the green light from his leader.

This gemini personality makes you unwilling to trust him one bit, regardless of his kind comical display.

As Hoseok dropped you off back at Namjoon’s Feed room to catch some rest himself, you wonder how he dared to leave you alone unattended. Surely you could sneak out while they’re all asleep and make your great escape.

You had sat at the edge of your bed plotting, deep in contemplation of whether to leave right now before it’s too late, or to earn their trust first. But what would they do if they ever found you again? Surely not kill you, they need you alive for your blood. Surely they won’t hurt you that much either, would they? But then there is also the problem of where to go. You have no home, no family apart from your uncle whose fate remains unknown, no money, no life to return to. What’s the point of escaping then? At least here, you serve a purpose, have a roof over your head and food cooked for you.

Though the harder you thought, the more a heavy exhaustion fell over you. Your daily routine would now have to be synchronised with these vampires, you would have to sleep during the day so you could be awake for them to feed on at night.

You fell asleep wondering whether it was the sire bond lulling you to slumber, among other things in you that it has control over which you do not know of yet.

“You enjoy cooking?” You ask curiously after chewing your enormous bite. “So vampires eat regular human food too?”

Seokjin pulls out the chair in front of you at the clothed banquet table and takes a seat. “Well, not really. I guess it’s just me. I find cooking kind of therapeutic and calming in a way, and even though it doesn’t satisfy my hunger, I might as well eat what I’ve cooked rather than let it go to waste. The taste took some time to get used to, human food tasted so strange at first, but I’ve learnt how to appreciate it now… You know?” As he speaks, his finger traces the gold embroidery on the black tablecloth. You oddly want him to look up and meet your eye, but he doesn’t.

You decide that you like Seokjin.

He possesses a soft, shy, delicate quality to him, and unlike anyone else you can tell with certainty that it isn’t a deceitful facade. He is almost very… normal. Namjoon, Jimin, Hoseok, you can believe to be vampires. Whereas with Seokjin, you can’t seem to comprehend.

“Well, you’re a great chef.” It is intriguing, peculiar, how he shows such interest in something as mundane as cooking. He has an eternity to live, yet he chooses to explore the food of mortals as his hobby. But judging by the way you had watched him cook, you suppose culinary skill is more of an art to him. You don’t know why you find that rather cute.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, finally glancing up to check your face only to quickly look back down at his hands when your eyes meet.

When the clock struck twelve at midnight, marking the start of a new day - Tuesday, your day with Seokjin, you woke up with a clearer mind. You would stay here, at least for a while longer, get a feel of this lifestyle, perhaps learn some of their secrets first before making the decision of whether to run away.

You hadn’t bother letting Namjoon know as you made your way to Seokjin’s Feed room. The place is significantly different from Namjoon’s; clean, creamy white, and a gold wardrobe full of laced garments. Very feminine. A note sitting on the pristine dresser wrote:

Good evening.

Please dress in the attire I’ve selected for you found in the wardrobe. If you have any problems, you are welcome to knock on my door to seek help.

- Seokjin

Already, you had taken a preference to him at that point. He seems polite, respectful, the opposite of Namjoon’s imposing rules.

“Why don’t you have some of the pasta? Not hungry?” You smooth over the crease of your ivory dress. It is very finely made, you don’t require an expert eye to be able to recognise; not only this but every piece of clothing in his closet for you. Where did they get all this money?

“Um, I…”

When his sentence fizzles out, you realise your mistake. Your ‘hungry’ is different from his ‘hungry’. He eats food for pleasure, not out of hunger; his thirst is only satisfied through drinking blood, of course. You feel stupid.

“Or… Thirsty?” Placing your silver fork down leaning against the plate, you wipe your mouth with a napkin.

Seokjin physically goes rigid, more so than before. “N-No, I’m fine.” The fabric of the tablecloth bunches up under his fist before he lets it loose. His lips are pursed tensely, rounding his spotless cheeks.

Somehow you aren’t convinced; he hadn’t said it with much conviction. But why conceal his thirst? For once, a part of you wishes for him to feed on you. Seokjin may be your only amicable ally in this house, your only way out even. Bridging the gap between the two of you could be of more use in the future than what you can imagine currently. Furthermore, despite yourself, you feel a sort of empathy towards him. No, maybe empathy isn’t the right word; it’s more like you see a potential of a friendship between the two of you, and you would like to understand him better.

The difference in your mood when you are with him compared to the others is quite drastic, you’ve noticed. You don’t feel bitter or defiant like with Namjoon, hesitant and timid like with Jimin, nor fearful and subdued like with Hoseok. You are at ease, his presence almost calms you though you can’t quite put your finger on the root of it. Perhaps it is because he is the only person thus far who you sense complete genuinity and even guilt from.

But you don’t push it. If he doesn’t insist on feeding, then he has his reasons. It just adds to his intrigue.

A silence falls over the both of you, with you preoccupied with your meal, which you don’t know whether to call it your lunch or dinner see as it is currently the middle of the night. Seokjin gathers himself and straightens, watching you devour his signature dish. He had woken up at the crack of dusk, just as the sunlight was trickling away into evening, to buy the lobster fresh from his well-acquainted vendor by the pier. It is always a nuisance to try to go unnoticed outside; he much prefers staying at home and avoiding the curious breed that is mankind. But he wanted to not only make you feel welcome, but also to impress you. Though you don’t need to know that.

Seokjin is sure your night with Namjoon could not have been a pleasant one. He has scolded his younger brother many-a-times before about being more lenient with his Feeds, but he is a stubborn self-righteous man. Seokjin knows he shouldn’t have but he couldn’t help but listen in on your argument with him, he blames it on the heightened hearing. Though, Namjoon’s Feed room quickly went very silent apart from a few whimpers, which he presumed was because he resorted to feeding to suppress you.

“So… I know this must not be great for you, it usually takes Feeds a while to accept and get used to their new life, but how are you coping with every?” You are surprised to find him meeting your eye and instigating such conversation. He knows he is shy, yet he is trying. At this rate, you will grow fond of him.

“Well.” You unconsciously pat your bloated belly, unaccustomed to having a full stomach; no matter how much you want to finish this glorious plate of pasta, you physically don’t think you can take another bite. “I think ‘not great’ is a slight understatement.” When he winces, you quickly retract your sour tone. “It’s just… a lot to take in. It is overwhelming, really, to be almost plucked out and inserted into a completely different world like I’m some character in a game. The whole supernatural magic thing, the sire bond, the blood drinking. I’m still trying to process it.”

“Of course, I understand that. Trust me, if I could have it any other way, I would.” There is a hint of melancholy in his voice, and his eyes seem to drift to a distant past that you wish to see too. “I guess it doesn’t help that we are all very different vampires fundamentally, with completely different methods of action.”

“Yes, I mean I have spent one day with Namjoon, and only have just briefly spoken to you, Jimin and Hoseok so I can hardly pass a solid judgement, but I can already sense your dissimilarities.”

“How was Namjoon by the way? Harsh, I imagine?” His gaze travels to your wrists, which you note he has been doing subconsciously quite often. Is it out of thirst? Or is it out of concern on whether you were mistreated?

“Namjoon-” Your heart lurches just from saying his name, and the coil that has loosened itself since the last time you thought about your debauchery begins to wind again. “Yeah, harsh.”

“You will have to forgive him. He is… particular about his ways, very set on regulations and discipline. To him, there is a very well-defined line between Feed, and everyone else. Though the rest of us are usually at least friendly with ours, he has always kept it a strict predator-prey relationship with his Feeds. He does not speak to them if not needed, does not see them unless it is to feed, does not allow himself to even converse with them lest they overstep the boundaries he sets. It is an obsolete way to live, as a vampire, yet flexibility and adaptability are not words that agree with Namjoon’s fundaments.”

That explains so much about Namjoon as a person. Perhaps he fears attachment and intimacy with one that he is supposed to view as no more than food.

“Right.” You ponder aloud, perplexed. “I guess I could understand that perspective. Tell me more, about all of you.” This insight into their characters is not only fascinating but is also such useful information, whoever you need to use it against in the future.

Seokjin hesitates, as if unsure he whether he is at liberty to reveal more. But to your relief, he continues.

“Yoongi, you really need to be careful with. I shouldn’t speak ill of him as his brother, but his methods with his Feed are… extremely questionable. A Feed usually lasts us a decade or more; Yoongi can drain his Feeds to death in weeks, even after healing them. The problem isn’t his thirst nor his self-control, it is his lack of empathy, his cruelty. The way he treats his Feeds are… inhumane. We aren’t human but we at least try to act civil, yet Yoongi embraces our nature as demons in its entirety. He doesn’t even try to act like he is more than the monsters we are. He is a sadist, loves to inflict pain, to crush pretty things in his fist...”

Your breath hitches. You had sensed his darkness from the moment you laid your eyes on him when you woke up to them surrounding your bed. He drains his Feeds in weeks? There is no way you’ll survive Yoongi alone, never mind all seven of them.

“And what day am I with him again?” Staring at your half empty plate, you feel your blood draining from your head. Even his own brother admits that he is a monster, you can’t begin to imagine what he will actually be like with you.

“Wednesday, tomorrow.”

It’s like being shoved down a great chasm. The pure dread dripping like acid down your throat as your heart sinks.

You thought Namjoon was bad, but somehow the thought of being bossed around by him sounds extremely pleasant compared to being with Yoongi. And you are going to be alone in his Feed room as well... With no one to stop him to hurt you however he wants… Surely someone will step in if he takes it too far right? Surely, now that they are sharing a Feed? Please?

Flashbacks to your uncle’s fist connecting to your temple flare in your mind, the way he would smile every time he drew blood as if it were some sort of achievement. But you’ve been tortured before. You’ve had it all.

Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared.

You’ve had it all.

You’ve suffered and survived. You can suffer and survive again.

When Seokjin notices the slight trembling at your throat, how your eyes are frozen and glazed over as if in a trance, he quickly says, “Look, don’t worry, Y/N. If he takes anything too far, seriously harms you in anyway, let me know and I will make him stop.”

You blink at Seokjin. And wonder quietly how someone as soft-spoken and gentle as him could command a devilish psychopath. You appreciate the offer, you trust his kindness, you just don’t believe he would be capable of stopping his brother from doing what he wishes if Yoongi with you is as he described.

“Why is he like this..?” Why are there men like him and your uncle? And why can you never escape them?

“He…” Seokjin sighs. “Yoongi was not always like this. We have lived for a really long time, have been through a lot of misery that we all cope with in our own ways. The Yoongi I knew two millennia ago is still in this husk of a man, deep down. He thinks detaching from his emotions, creating this evil persona of himself is the only way he can continue living for eternity. We’ve all tried to help him, trust me, we have. It’s heartbreaking to see someone you love-”

His voice catches in his throat, and you glance up at his face, beautifully contorted in such a candor pain, plump bottom lip jutted out. You pity him. It is torturous to love a monster, worse for immortals.

“I understand it must be.” You quietly say, unsure of how to console him. These vampires, the complexity and depth of their issues are nothing you can ever relate to. You can offer no advice except your sympathy.

You try not to think about how your encounter with Yoongi, the creature so sick and twisted that it broke his brothers’ hearts, is tomorrow. You hate him already.

Desperate to wipe off the sorrow in Seokjin’s features that constricts your heart, you swiftly change the topic. “Tell me about your other brothers. Hoseok? Jimin? Taehyung?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen, as if awoken from deep thought, a redness tinting his face as if embarrassed from the vulnerability he accidentally displayed. “Right.” After clearing throat, his voice resumes its stability. “I guess you should also be careful around Hoseok; he is rather wild and unpredictable, sort of takes everything with a dash of humour, but is also the one with the worst self-control out of us all. He’s impatient and childish, hasn’t really seem to have grown out of his teenage mentality even after two thousand years.”

Just as you predicted. You gulp. This is an improvement from Yoongi, but so is everything. Is that really the standard you’re measuring against now? Seokjin sees the concern in your expression.

“But-” he quickly says, “his intentions are never malicious in any form. I can’t stress enough that he is really just a child at heart who wants to find light in every situation, so don’t let his moods scare you.”

“He does seem… rather odd.” Borderline lunatic, but that would be too rude to call him to his brother. Maybe you are being rude and quick to judge. When did you become like this?

To your surprise, Seokjin lets out a chuckle. You watch his eyes crease in genuine humour, a sight that makes you smile without reason. “Yes, he is very odd. But you will grow to appreciate or even like his personality. Truly brightens your day.”

Oh? You can’t say you believe him. So far, with the exception of Seokjin maybe, you don’t trust any of these vampires. You don’t see yourself ever letting your guard down around them in the future.

“Now Jimin, he wears his heart on his sleeve - very affectionate and loving with his Feeds, almost the polar opposite from Yoongi. He only sires females, and more times than not he falls in love with them. Actually, forget more times than not, I mean every time.”

That both surprises and doesn’t surprise you. It surprises you because it means that tenderness he had shown towards you had not been false afterall. Yet it doesn’t surprise you because in your heart you had believed him when he said he values and respects you, and those emotive eyes of his cannot lie.

Does this also means he will fall in love with you?

You don’t know how to feel. It is oxymoronic to you, for his prey to also be his lover. But what scares you is that, if the sire bond had caused such a drastic change in the dynamic between you and Namjoon, you can only imagine how strongly it will hit a romantic dreamer like Jimin.

And you. Will you fall in love with him too?

“That surely isn’t wise; he must get devastated when his Feeds… pass away.” You ask, and Seokjin’s shrug conveys the same lack of understanding for his brother’s ways as you.

“His coping mechanism is to find a new Feed to fall in love with as quick as possible, find someone to replace that void in his heart. I can sympathise with the appeal of love, we have lived for so long, it gets lonely for someone as affectionate as Jimin who always seeks another half.” At the word lonely, your eyes meet, and for a second you swear you can feel Seokjin resonating with the feeling.

You get the urge to reach out to hold his hand across the table and tell him that he isn’t alone now, though you don’t know why. But you just stare at his creamy unblemished skin and reply, “Oh.”

It shocks you, the urge of emotions you sometimes feel for this man before you, despite knowing him for not a week. You truly, truly want to comfort him. He seems so pure, so undeserving of the title of a vampire. Confusion whirls in your mind.

“As for Taehyung. Oh, Taehyung…” Seokjin sighs in a way that instantly makes you even more interested in the boy he speaks of. “He has many layers to him that will slowly be peeled to reveal a heart of gold, but first you need to endure his mystery and mischief. He may appear unreadable and confusing at first - he’s always had this strange duality to him, but in the end he forms such deep bonds with his Feeds. He is very picky when selecting his Feed, it takes him the longest time to choose one as his taste buds are peculiar and he always assesses the person as a whole rather than settling for any blood.

“He likes to spoil them with riches, designer clothes, sparkling diamonds, anything they desire. Feeds are more like friends then food to him, perhaps on the other extreme from Namjoon. Not only this, he is kind to all of our Feeds too. Him and Jimin often like to share or swap Feeds, as long as one of them doesn’t get to jealous and possessive. He hides his compassion behind his rascal playfulness, but really, he grieves the loss of his Feeds the most out of us all.”

In the blur of your memory, you remember Taehyung as the blonde devilishly handsome boy who was the first to dig his fangs into you. You had been so susceptible to his charm, had leaned into his touch because you had wanted him. Now Seokjin is telling you that this boy is a deeply emotional being who treasures his Feeds as companions?

Should you perhaps not place so much trust in Seokjin? Afterall his opinion on his brothers will of course be biased. Or maybe it is your own judgement that you should doubt. You had been quick to decide on how you view these vampires with the prejudice that they are uncivilised beasts. Yet their complexities have been proven time and time again, shedding the misconceptions you had doled them in your head.

You shall reserve your judgement from now on.

“Also, he will probably ask you to be his muse.”

“Muse…?”

“Yes, Taehyung loves to paint.” Seokjin smiles down at the patterns of the tablecloth to himself with a glimmer of pride for his brother’s artistry.

“Talking about me behind my back, hyung?” A rich voice appears behind you so abruptly that you jump out of your seat, startled, your chair falling back loudly. The clang echoes up the tall walls of the dining room.

Before you can look back, you hear the newcomer effortlessly pick up the fallen chair and push it towards you until its cushioned edge hits the pits of your knees. You smell him before you see him, a fresh almost fruity scent.

“Careful there, Y/N. Can’t contain your excitement to see me?” As he whispers in your ear, an ice cold shiver runs down the course of your back, his breath tingling your skin like teasing fingers.

When you finally get the chance to fully take in his appearance, your legs almost give in and plop right down onto the chair. Some people are so stunning that every time you look at them feels like the first time, their beauty never ceases to strike at you, rendering you completely defenseless. You want to say the culprit is his eyes, but then you see the glorious arch of his nose, and Michaelangelo-painted lips. If Seokjin’s beauty is an iridescence flawlessly-round pearl, Taehyung would be the sharp vibrant amethyst glittering like an undiscovered galaxy.

His tongue swipes out to wet his lips. Something inside you screams.

“Taehyung-ah, it’s impolite to lurk around, and especially rude to intrude on a conversation that does not involve you.” Seokjin chastises, standing up as well to mirror your stance. Suddenly, he sounds quite authoritative, not dictating like Namjoon, but stern, imperious. Unlike his timid tone with you previously.

“Sorry, hyung.” Taehyung expels a childish puff of air through his nostrils and puckers his lips. “Just wanted to see our dear angel over here.”

He stares at you with such an overt desire, almost lewly, that you feel something crawl beneath your skin. You take a step back closer to the table and turn to face Seokjin, if only to save your senses from imploding.

“You may wait your turn to get to know her, like everyone else.” The older vampire states, and though irritation should be ticking his handsome visage, you find a softness in its place.

And once again, you catch a glimpse of the extensive love and tenderness Seokjin feels for his brothers despite their behaviour and his role to keep them in line as the eldest.

“I know, I know.” Taehyung doesn’t step towards you despite noticing the distance you’ve placed. From his tight jaw, you can tell that patience is perhaps not his strong suit. It is straining him. “Only wanted to say hi.” He grumbles, still pouting.

This boyish mannerism is a guise, you remind yourself, masking the sophisticated soul Seokjin was describing. But why? You don’t understand all these impostures they like to put up. Why must they exhaust themselves by constantly playing games of Hide and Seek?

“Well there you go. Y/N and I will get going now, Taehyung.” Seokjin strides around the long dining table to reach your side. As he approaches, you watch his broad shoulders swing from side to side, an irony against his gentle personality.

“Shouldn’t you wash the dishes first, hyung? Can’t leave dirty plates lying around.”

Humour does not find Seokjin’s face, but it does yours. This Taehyung is a daring one to test his brother like this. You glance over to find the same mirth glinting in his ocean blue eyes. You look back at your feet to stifle a giggle.

“I-” He lets out a resigned sigh. “Fine, I will do them right now, don’t you worry. Y/N,” you face him as he address you, and three feet away, his skin looks just as porcelain clear, “why don’t you meet me in my Feed room?”

“I’ll escort her.” Taehyung quickly chimes in.

You hear a noise of protest before you are whisked away by a large palm on the small of your back. When you turn your head back, you see Seokjin shaking his in disapproval and pushing his hair back to reveal the pale curve of his forehead. The action flusters you for some reason.

But then you are keenly aware of the vampire beside you, guiding you out the room towards the grand staircase. The pounding of your heart grows heavier, nervous, scared even. As you peek up at him, Taehyung meets your eye, that serpentine tongue sliding out again. Matching his meandering pace, the both of you walk up the stairs wordlessly. The polished rail happily meets his fingertips as he slides them along the bannister. Your mind scrambles to anticipate what he’ll do next.

At the penultimate step, he makes an abrupt halt. You take your final step onto the landing before your legs know to cease motion as well. And with one wrong turn of you foot, you make the mistake of spinning towards him.

With the height leverage, you are at eye level with each other. Nose to nose, breath to breath. You twisted so quickly out of surprise for his sudden stop that he has to catch you by your waist to prevent you from toppling onto him.

Satan...

It has to be black magic cloaking this boy because you find yourself being sucked into him no matter how lethal he appears.

“Sweet angel.” He takes in your face as if you are a work of art, and now your heart is racing. Because the way he looks at you is the way so many girls dream and dream to be regarded by beautiful men like him with even just an inkling of the longing in his eyes.

“I have turned this world upside down looking for you, you have no idea…” Slender fingers snake to the back of your hips, shooting a flaming arrow up your spine until it is tingling your scalp. You notice the subtle difference in his tone from before, more gentle, less fanatic. “And now I’ve found you. So please understand and forgive my forwardness, I really cannot contain my need for you.”

All you can do is blink at him.

“Uh…” The flattery that his words imbues in you sits in your stomach, tumbling your insides into a tight knot. The feeling of being wanted, needed...

Taehyung lightly tugs on your waist until your hips are touching. When he leans into you, you hold your breath, frozen, watching his lips near yours. But rather than meeting your own lips, they skim past the corner of your mouth, the sensation sending a hot pulse down to your core. His mouth puckers at your cheek, kissing it with a delicacy that you don’t expect from him.

You can’t tell whether the drop of your heart is from relief or disappointment that he didn’t kiss you.

If anyone had tried such an intimate gesture with you, especially a stranger you hardly know, you would’ve kicked them in the shin, or at least yell and pull away. But for some reason, you revel in the smoothness if his lips on your skin, like a cool silken handkerchief brushing against your face.

You lean in, feet digging into the wooden floor to ground yourself. Your fingers toy with the fabric of your dress to remind yourself that this is real.

His lips travel to your ear, breath tickling the sensitive microscopic hairs on your face. “You don’t have to be shy with me, okay?” His voice tunnels into your ear, like a hand reaching into you and tying up your lungs. “You don’t have to pretend not to yearn for me.”

It is a bold assumption he is making, but it is also a true one.

You do yearn for him, in more ways than you can comprehend. The fibres that make up your being goes against the logic in your brain that tells you to hate this blood-sucking demon. But the sire bond hasn’t even been set between you two yet, has it?

Taehyung takes his last step up the staircase to arrive beside you, hands not quite leaving your hips but rather falls loosely to your side. Incapable of uttering a word, you allow him to lead you along the U-shaped corridor, passing door to door that only differ by the gold initials engraved in the dark mahogany wood. Until you arrive before one with SJ - Feed carved.

“Thank you for walking me.” You say although it’s more him who is grateful for the opportunity to spend time with you.

“It’s my greatest pleasure, of course.” Dipping his head, you catch a glimpse of the most dashing of smiles that allows the tip of his fang to peak through. Are they permanently unsheathed?

In the silence that follows, you wonder about the other vampires, their current whereabouts, whether they can hear your conversation with Taehyung. It is eerily quiet, and this house is large enough for your voice to echo. Can they all overhear Taehyung’s brave advances towards you? Can Seokjin?

“I guess this is my least favourite part of our journey - parting.” Taehyung brushes a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. Then the mischief returns to his voice as he suddenly lunges and nibbles on your earlobe, fangs deliberately missing your flesh. “From now on, you will find yourself looking forward to our time together. I promise you, Saturday will soon become your favourite day of the week.”

Then he’s gone.

This vampire speed is beginning to get on your nerves. How dare they always take advantage of this ability to flee at the most convenient times?

Though it’s not like you would’ve been able to muster a response anyway. Taehyung has a talent in extracting all function from your brain.

You enter Seokjin’s Feed room and slump against the door. Truly exhausted from the interaction with such an unpredictable, intoxicating being. You actually begin to miss the older vampire, the comfort and security he provides.

It is interesting, though, how Seokjin has chosen a whole wardrobe of clothes for you. He hadn’t been insistent on you wearing them, but it’s not like there has been any provided alternative to the white-pink paletted, almost lolita-styled outfits either. You pad over the closet and swing the doors wide open from the gold knob. Today you had picked one of the plainer, more neutral white dresses, devoid of any lace unlike almost every article of clothing in this wardrobe.

So Seokjin likes lace, huh?

You pull open the underwear drawer, hand running through the rows of neatly folded panties. You imagine how flustered he must have been while folding these, and smile to yourself. Your fingers encountered a larger piece of undergarment. Hooking it out, the fabric falls open, revealing an ivory lace bodysuit dangling from your finger.

Yet what makes your eyes bulge are the suspender straps that hang from the bottom.

Oh.

Why has he chosen…

Oh?

You feel a strange sense of perversion as you line it against your body and look into the mirror. Does he wish for you to wear this? Surely not the shy Seokjin you were speaking to?

But then you look around the room and notice a very blatant preference that he has. Gold-rimmed white bed frame, pink-accented white sheets, pearl-embellished white curtains. The entire room is washed over with a pure, almost infantile aesthetic.

And when it clicks in your head, you recognise how obviously this corresponds with and reflects Seokjin’s clean appearance and virtuous nature.

Hesitant, you shed your dress and try on the body suit. To your amazement, its sheer material fits you like a second skin, hugging your body at your hips and bosom espeically. You inhale in wonder at your own reflection, marvelling how good you look in this garment.

Never have you worn anything that has made you feel remotely as sensual, as titillating.

Your appearance is an oxymoron; you look so innocent with the little bows and floral web, yet so provocative with the neckline revealing your cleavage and ass completely exposed by the thong cutting. A wave of cold hits you, and your nipples respond.

The door behind you opens.

In the mirror, your eyes meet Seokjin’s as he immediately freezes at the sight of you, one foot stepped into the room. And for a horrifying moment, your heart plunging down to earth’s core, your reflections just stare at each other. Utterly mortified.

There’s a glint in his eyes that stirs something in your stomach.

“Shit!” You shriek when you regain your awareness of the situation. Seokjin swiftly slams the door shut as he exits the room, yelling a stuttering apology from outside. You quickly dig out a pale pink sweatshirt and matching joggers, the most concealing outfit you can find, and throw it over yourself.

Your face is burning. You don’t know how you can face him again after he’s seen you in that... that sheer lacy lingerie...

A knock sounds from the door, slow and hesitant. “Um, are you… dressed?” His voice wavers.

You wait a second to get yourself together before answering, “yes.”

When he enters this time, both your eyes are fixed on the wooden floor. Seokjin’s ears are bright red, almost as vibrant as his pursed lips. His own heart is hammering, the image of you dressed in that bodysuit refusing to leave his mind. He is scolding himself for even allowing such a thing to happen. Has he no manners? How could he just barge into a lady’s room like that unannounced?

Awkwardness brews between you two until he manages to gather his voice. “I’m truly so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t think you’d be-” His breath hitches. “I-I should have knocked. I’m sorry.”

You glance up at him, cheeks still aflame, to find him frowning at his feet, so clearly screaming at himself in his head. So you say, “It’s fine. It was an accident, you didn’t know.”

Sitting yourself onto the end of the bed, you watch him stay standing by the closed door, motionless still. There is now a tension in the air, like the wall of privacy that separates you two has been breached.

“Um… You don’t have to… stand all the way there, you know?” You say to him, hoping to ease his discomfort. Hell, he seems more uncomfortable than you do.

Seokjin looks up, nods nervously and sits a meter away from you on the bed. You almost see the clockworks ticking in his brain, trying to find the words to say to you to lessen the weird atmosphere.

“I didn’t expect you this soon.” You mutter, also trying to find a way to communicate that it’s okay.

“I washed up quickly.” The image of Seokjin doing the dishes in vampire speed in fear of Taehyung trying anything on you actually spreads your lips into a grin. Your unexpected amusement surprises him, and he finds himself smiling as well.

When you look at each other, the tension begins to ebb away, the both of you starting to find humour in this stupid situation. You heart warms, and you decide in this moment that, yes, you want to grow closer with Seokjin. You haven’t had any sort of companion in a while, your sister the only exception, and though you have gotten accustomed to the solidarity, you often find yourself craving for someone who understands you, who’s always there to talk to you.

And thus far he has been nothing if not open and honest with you. Answering your questions, helping you ease into this new life.

“I want to ask you about your sixth brother.”

Seokjin blinks at you. “Jungkook?”

“Ah right, that’s his name.” There are seven vampires in this house, yet you have only really encountered six of them. That time when you had first woken up on that bed, only six of them had fed on you. You thought you had seen someone lurking in the corner of the room, yet in your delirious overwhelmed state, you hadn’t paid much attention. You haven’t met him since. “Where is he? How come I haven’t seen him at all?”

The sigh you get in response percolates your intrigue. “Jungkook doesn’t feed.”

You think you’ve misheard him at first. “Sorry?”

“Jungkook doesn’t feed.” He states with such certitude. “He drinks from blood bags only. Sundays will be your day off; I don’t suppose you’ll see much of him even then, I guess you’d be able to do whatever you wish on his days.”

Your gratitude is overshadowed by your curiosity. Why would he, a vampire, choose to drink stale blood when there is a fresh option? “Wait, how come?”

Another one of those strained sighs, like he is frustrated with his brother for being this way, but not quite. “It… isn’t really my place to tell his story. He used to feed, but all you need to know is that now he doesn’t want to anymore.”

You take this as a sign to not prod on this matter anymore, you shall seek answers elsewhere at some point. But now you’re immensely interested. What kind of story is it that he isn’t permitted to tell?

“I understand.” You nod, feigning apathy.

He seems relieved by your reply, no longer having to tread carefully around a sensitive matter. But then you ask-

“What about you, Seokjin?” His name still feels foreign on your lips, the syllables not quite coming naturally to you yet. “We’ve spoken about all your brothers, so what about you?”

Taken aback by your forwardness, he stares at you slightly dumbfounded. “I… There’s nothing much about me.”

From his eyes, you see that he isn’t lying deliberately, yet you don’t believe him. He himself just doesn’t realise his own peculiarities perhaps.

“Oh? Surely there’s something.” You glance at the wide distance across the bed between where you are sitting. You want to inch closer, it feels odd to sit so far from someone you’re speaking to.

“I mean, I like to cook, to read, to keep the house in order I guess…” His eyes trail to his knees, returning to the bashful state he was in. You don’t expect too much. You’ve just met, he isn’t going to pour his heart out to you upon your request. If he had asked you the same question, you would’ve shrivelled up into a raisin and not be able to answer either.

You’ll go about it in a different way then.

“That’s fair. But I wonder why you haven’t fed on me yet.” You cringe at your own words because it almost sounds like you are asking him to. “Isn’t the whole point of… all of this... for you guys to feed on me?”

Again, he stares at you, perplexed and kind of surprised.

“I mean… I just- Wait why do you want me to feed on you?”

“I never said that.” It’s your turn to be ruffled, your voice comes out higher pitched than you would like. “I was just wondering, like, what is my purpose if you’re not going to do what you’re keeping me here for? I just don’t understand…”

You hope he doesn’t think you do want him to feed on you. Because you don’t. You don’t.

“I just…” He sighs again. Seokjin is apparently a sigher. “I try to keep feeding to the minimal.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like the idea of it.”

A vampire is telling you he doesn’t ‘like the idea of’ drinking blood, especially the celestial blood you possess. You would’ve scoffed if it were anyone else.

“You mean, like Jungkook?” You take greater care now as you speak, not wanting to prickle any nerve. His whole demeanour has softened, reduced even. When you lean closer, hovering over the space between you, he gets startled.

“Not really, well, kind of but…” You wait patiently for him to formulate his next words, pitying his difficulty in doing so. One second. Ten seconds. Twenty. “I just hate it.

“I’ve always hated it. I hate how I have to inflict pain onto someone in order to feel satiated. I hate how good I feel when drinking someone’s blood, so good that I can’t even register their cries for help. I hate the guilt afterwards that just festers in my mind the more I look at my Feed. Everything about it is so wrong. I still remember the first time I fed one someone, how I cried and hid for days afterwards at the beast I’ve become. The others can do it so easily, so remorselessly and naturally, and I wish I could be like them but I can’t. And the worst part of it is that I’m stuck with myself for eternity, with no escape from this never-ending thirst. I hate being a vampire.”

The weight of his words land blows in your heart. Never did you even remotely expect his underlying motive to be self-loathing, and now you see clearly from his perspective. You remember the guilt flashing in his eyes when they had all fed on you days ago. To have the necessity of living be everything that you stand against must be so agonising. When you look at him again, you see him through a different lense. You understand his reservations, his sighs and stutters.

You also note how he said ‘the beast I’ve become’. Become. They were once not vampires. And that makes it more tragic because you can imagine how he misses that life.

You don’t know what else to do other than to throw your arms around him. You have never been a person of much affection, especially after how the past few years have worn you down and stripped you of anyone dear. Yet at this moment, you can think of no better way you express your sympathy and rapport.

Seokjin tips back from the impact of your embrace, looks down at your face buried in his side. He’s frozen, shocked by your action, blushed from your touch.

“You don’t hurt me.” You pull away before he has the chance to hold you back, and his chest cinches at the missed opportunity. “I’ve been hurt before. You don’t hurt me.” His beautiful features contorts in confusion, nose scrunches.

Slowly, you bring your arm up towards him as you scoot to close the distance. “Here. Just feed.”

If there’s one vampire you’d willingly let feed on you, it is the one before you right now, who had broken down crying at his first taste of blood.

“N-No!” He looks at you, bewildered, yet still so so handsome.

“Even if you don’t, someone else will. Don’t starve yourself just to save me from the pain. I’m well-acquainted with it now, trust me.”

Seokjin glares at your wrist, at your silky untainted skin, scars hidden away and buried much deeper beneath the surface. Inhale, exhale. Contemplating. Fibre by fibre caving into his temptations. He knows he has to feed sooner or later. Maybe it’s best that it’s sooner, so his appetite is less severe and the damage he inflicts is kept to the minimal.

His delicate fingers come to support your hand as he brings it close to his nose and takes a long sniff. Eyes widening, he drops your arm in an instant.

“Come on, stop worrying.” You persist.

“No, it’s not that. Give me your other wrist, this one smells like Namjoon.” It’s your turn to stop breathing. Why did he have to say his name? Now you are reminded of the way he kissed you so desperately, and how your body sang in lust for him when that sireship formed despite the protest of your logic.

But at the same time, something in your core flutters at his comment. As if Seokjin had felt an ounce of territoriality, like he doesn’t want to touch anything that his brother has.

Wordlessly you pass him your right wrist. Your eyes meet as he opens his mouth, allowing his fangs to extend. Then the familiar blackness starts to overtake his irises, dark veins running around his eyes. “Look away.” Something in his voice cracks you heart, the shame.

“No. It’s okay, Seokjin.” With the hand that isn’t held in his, you carefully cup his face to face yours, thumb softly brushing the pulsing protrusions of vessels. The darkness in his eyes holds no true darkness at all though, you see through it. He can’t and won’t hurt you. There isn’t a single drop of fear inside you. Trust.

“I’m sorry.” And with that he sinks his teeth into you.

You brace yourself for the wrenching pain, yet in its place is a violent bloom of emotion. You feel. You feel so much. You feel everything he is feeling, the guilt, the disgust, the desire to be anything but what he is. You keep feeling and feeling.

Your mind feels as though it is melting into Seokjin’s, and your eyes shut from the violence of this godly force, attempting to make sense of it all. There is a roaring in your head yet the room is silent. The bond is forming, intangible molecule by intangible molecule. The pounding in your chest mirrors his own as he takes small suppressed gulps. His essence tickles your own, much like his tongue lapping your skin.

Why isn’t this hurting?

At this thought, you begin to feel a stinging at your wrist, as if the pain is slowly being summoned my your awareness. You try not to think about it, open your eyes and try to distract yourself with the pink tussocks of his hair that have somehow found its way through your fingers. You wonder if he’s feeling the same powerful binding as you are. The way he is hunched over your wrist right now, like a little timid kitten…

Then you notice that you legs are somehow over his lap. When did this happen? Yet you don’t move them off.

Your wrist is now starting to burn, the pain growing and growing by the second. But it is almost as if he could sense this because he pulls away at the right moment before it could hurt more.

He doesn’t look at you at first, turned away, the back of his hand dabbing at his mouth. When he does look at you, his eyes have returned to their human form, glassy warm brown, filled with the same turmoil that is tangling you. Lips tinted with your red.

You want to ask if the sire bond is always this violent, this overwhelming.

Instead you kiss him.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine

❦

25/10/2019

799 notes · View notes

sopeloveee · 4 years

Text

Worthy

WARNING⚠️ Mature Themes( self harm, mentions of suicide) member: jung jaehyun (NCT) genre: really angsty, with a fluffy ending! this is actually the first in a while that I’ve written on here, so, please sorry for any mistakes or unclarity kinda just wrote this on a whim, please enjoy💚 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- {3:32pm} Jaehyun finds your razor blades and you come home looking for them.

Jaehyun arrives at your house at 3:32 pm. He had just got finished with dance practice with the other members for the new comeback. You and Jaehyun met in Chicago in a Starbucks, as they were currently there for their tour. You had been living in Chicago for about 2 years at the time, and you had worked in Starbucks as a side job for school. He was the most attractive boy you had ever seen, and you were amazing, both blushing as he ordered for him and a couple of the other members. He walked away that day with your cell number on his receipt and his ears burning red.

“You like her. Don’t you?” Mark asks. “Of course not.” Jaehyun responds quickly. Ears getting redder by the second.

“You are literally lying.” Taeyong hops in. “Your ears are as red as my phone case, so cut the shit and text her when we get back to the arena.”

You guys were 7 months into your relationship now, and you had moved to Korea for dance school and to also be closer to Jaehyun, as he couldn’t stand being across the world from you. You’ve been living there for about 8 months now, and was settled into your nice loft that Jaehyun helped pay for. You had given Jaehyun a spare, telling him to come over whenever he felt free. Him coming over became weekly, weekly became daily so you asked him to move in with you, him lighting up at the idea and immediately saying yes. You’ve been living together for about 6 months now, and you were two years and a month into your relationship. Everything had been going good, Jaehyun was a nice man, he always encouraged you to do your best, he was sweet, handsome; what more could you have asked for?

Though, you had good things going for you, you had one thing that was playing a detrimental role in your life; your severe depression and anxiety. It came hereditarily, so there wasn’t anything you could quite do about it, other than therapy and medication. Some days were okay, some were manageable, and others were just downright bad. Today was one of those days, and you’d had enough. Your dance coach had berated you in front of the whole team, calling you a piece of dead weight and a waste of talent. You are a beautiful mixed girl, not too skinny but not thick either. You had a nice body, and nice soft brown skin. You’d hadn’t told Jaehyun about your depression or anxiety, or the fact that being insulted and looked down upon at your dance school was an almost daily occurrence. And when you did good, your teacher would still give you back-handed compliments or not even say anything. Your teammates were very supporting though, they always told you that you were the best and that you had a lot of talent. Your coach was just a dick.

You, being the only brown-skinned person on your team you were often the center of attention. This caused you to become hard on yourself and you believed that it was always on you, and that you should’ve done better as one of the seniors of the team. Times like these, were times where you were at your lowest, seeking self-harm to rid you of the emotions that you had felt that day. So you settled on cutting today as your source of relaxation. You’d leave straight after practice, wanting to get home and just be in the presence of your favorite person. Some friends patted you on the back and gave you words of encouragement as they saw the frown upon your face right as you were leaving. Back at the house, Jaehyun had gotten himself comfortable, making him something to eat and sitting on the couch to watch whatever he could find on tv. After eating, he went to the bathroom to wash his hands (have you washed your hands today?) and realized that there wasn’t any paper towels left in the bathroom. So, after shaking his hands dry and wiping them on his sweatpants, he heads for the supply closet located next to your bedroom. He reaches for the paper towels on top shelf, and while reaching his large hand lands on a small box that was pushed all the way to the side close to the closet wall. He’d never known there was a box up there, what was the box here for? He was sure you had finished settling in. He thought as he pulls the box down from its hiding place. He opens the box and gasps loudly.

Razor Blades. Broken Pencil Sharpeners. Jaehyun can’t believe it. He cries for the first time in years. He would’ve never thought, that you, Y/N, his world, his inspiration, his soulmate, had been hurting yourself. Jaehyun knew all about self harm, as he had lost a dear friend to something so bad and saddening as suicide. He was in shock, crying loudly as his body lost balance and fell to the ground shaking. How come he had never realized what you were going through, how could he have been so oblivious? The sweatshirts, the cardigans, in 85 degree weather. He had always known your style had leaned towards the more artsy/ 90s side, be he never could have thought the reason you wore such big clothing and long sleeves were to hide any scars that you could’ve been withholding. He loved you with his whole being, why have you never told him about something like this? You never were a burden to him, you could’ve opened up to him about it. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through, everything was just running through his head so fast. He took the box and threw all of the blades out, tearing the house up to make sure you hadn’t hid any someplace else in your home. He goes to the bathroom to run water over his face, and heads towards the bedroom to wait for you there.

Twenty minutes later he hears the front door open, and the floorboards creak as you make your way through the house. You don’t announce your entrance. You don’t call out to him, you head straight to the supply closet. Jaehyun gets up and heads towards you, watching as you take out the step stool and climb to the top. Only to find nothing there, he watches with sad eyes as you frown. You don’t even notice him there, to wrapped in your mind to even think that his sorrowful eyes are watching you. Tears escape his eyes and it’s only until he speaks that you realize he’s there.

“ I threw them out.” He says quietly. You flinch harshly at the sound of his deep voice. You turn to him slowly, you heart in your throat, and yours hands tucked anxiously between the sleeves of Jaehyun’s sweater you wore to practice. “ Baby.” He says, choking on his tears. You’re shocked to say the least. You’ve never seen Jaehyun cry, and you would have never though that this would be the reason. You close your eyes feeling guilty, letting your reserve down and letting the tears slip down your plump cheeks rapidly.

He walks over the step stool and lifts you off of it, hugging you tightly and crying his eyes out. “ Why have you never told me? I could’ve helped you, I could’ve-“ You cry harder, everything coming up and out of you. You thrash against his frame, yelling and screaming. “ I love you Y/N, I’m always here, just let it all out.” Jaehyun regathers himself, as to stay strong and be your rock in this moment. You cry for about 15 minutes straight, hiccuping and talking about how you’ve been struggling with depression and anxiety since your early teens. You tell him about dance, you tell him about all the things that you’ve been through, and he listens. He listens intensively as your spill your heart to him, finally relaxed at the fact you can tell him everything. When you finish, he picks you up from the floor, as you both slipped to the ground in each other’s embrace while crying. He brings you to the kitchen, and sets you atop the island looking at you directly into your eyes and softly smiling.

“Thank you for telling me. I love you more now that I know how strong, beautiful, and amazing you are. These scars? They’re in the past, you are the most driven, talented person I know. I want you to come to me with every problem you have, and we’ll fix it together. You never go through stuff alone anymore, I’m always here. I love you so much, and I want you to know that you don’t have to feel like a burden, or a distraction. You are the most important person in my life. You come first, remember that. Can you do that for me?” He sheds a few tears watching as your head hangs low, and he raises your gaze and makes you look at him. “ Can you do that for me Y/N?” You nod quietly, and smile softly. “ I need to hear you say it princess. I know that stopping can be tough, so if you ever feel the urge please tell me, I’ll get you food, make you laugh, hell, I’ll kick the shit out of Taeyong if it’s what it takes to take your mind away from you hurting yourself. Do this for me, I cannot lose you-” He chokes. “ You won’t Jaehyun. I promise.” You both pause and revel in each other’s presence. You feel thankful that you're him with him right now, in this moment. You take some time to get yourself together as best s possible, and you play at the back of his head with the strands of his hair nervously, as he rubs his hands up and down your legs gently. “You can look if you want.” You say shakily. He takes your hands softly as if he could break you, and rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He looks at the lines with broken-hearted eyes, his fingers shaking as he runs his hand along the scabs and bubbles on your wrists and forearms.

“ Oh princess.” He says, kissing your scars and cuts, and letting his tears run down your arm.

Jaehyun is fully crying again, wrapping his strong arms around your stomach and placing his head on your heart. “ I’ll stay strong for you. I promise. I love you so much.” You say tearfully. He looks up and smiles as tears slip from his crescent eyes. You wipe his tears, and he wipes yours, and he picks you up from the counter and spins you around making you laugh loudly. “ You are so strong. You know that?” You nod, blushing. “ I’m truly so happy that you told me everything. It means a lot to me that you are allowing me to help you recover. I love you so much.”

“ I love you too Jaehyun.”

“ Soo, burgers or pizza?”

“ Burgers ”. You both answer together. “ Yeah burgers for sure.” you say with a smile.

For the first time in your life, you can breathe clearly. For the first time in your life, you feel worthy. Nothing could ever stop you from living. Not with Jaehyun by your side. Not even depression or anxiety.

#nct scenarios #nct #kpop smut #ambw kpop #kpop angst #kpop #nct 127 #nct u jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct u scenarios #kpop memes #kpop scenarios #nct u #jaehyun #kpop prompts #kpop bands #nct angst #nct fluff

148 notes · View notes

highlonelylustfull · 3 years

Text

1- July-2021

Today I had the first session with my mom and Mark. He immediately zeroed in on my and my defeatedness which was brought up by Dr. White in FL as well when I had a session with her and my mom. She noted how immediately my posture and demeanour changed. The default of compliance, knowing that I am not about to honestly and openly express myself with my mom as she's not able to handle it, and so I just comply and get smaller. Thats the only way that I can cope at this point is to emotionally detach.

Mark asked for a weekly recap and I was honestly about some highs and lows, when he asked mom the same thing she talked about how busy she is and then the rest of it was about Lariel which is annoying, avoidant, and copdepenant to think that someone else's news counts as your experience. Enmeshment.

She said that our conversations don't feel fake or superficial to her, which is alarming but also maybe she is incapable of having the kinds of conversations I would like to have. She at least acknowledged the underlying tension and the avoidance of certain topics.

When she read me her fears for me she got emotional and talked about basically my everyday reality. She said that I have been hit harder than any kid and am constantly being thrown curveballs and trauma, and she's worried that I won't be able to blossom or having an easy life. I didn't understand the fear in that because its all true. Mark and I were both nodding the whole time in agreement as in yes that is true and yes my life is hard and yes a lot of shit happens to me and no it does not stop and no I do not get a break. It was frustrating to see that she clearly doesn't see how her behaviour is contributing to making my life so FUCKING HARD. She is the biggest headache in my day to day life, she continually throws curveballs AT me and then gets upset at how I react making it even worse. She is the most stressful traumatic thing in my life hands down and that is why this is at such a breaking point for me. I need something to change in the way or boundaries, her behaviour, her communication, or just cutting her out of my life and looking for support in other ways. I said int he session that I feel like I can't put my whole weight on her and I have been actively seeking out other resources to help me because I can't trust her support.

When she was reading the assignment to me she acknowladged that she is growing mentally and emotionally and I am as well, both at different stages of our lives. So that gives me a little hope that she is becoming aware of her own faults and is becoming willing to work on her part of this relationship.

She misremebered the I am and have been doing everything in my power to better OUR relationship to bettering MYSELF. She acknowledged it and while that is true that I am and have been constantly bettering myself it discards the entire relationship aspect. She seemed to have a hard time saying or seeing that our relationship is/has shattered in a lot of ways, and added on to how important she is to me.

When I got to the fear.. that was rough. I didn't know if I could even say it as I was tearing up and had the biggest knot in my throat. Eventually I did, and she seemed taken a back, and left out my fear of the relationship ending or being irreparably damaged-clearly she doesn't feel that way even though she threatens me with it.

When it got to why I love her she waited for more I only could muster up two things one of which was a memory because at this point I have so little respect for her that I dont know why I love her other than she's my mother and so I am biologically programmed to withstand the throws of the relationship and try and better it because I'm her daughter. Which now that I think of it is something she drilled into my head about Ralph. That he's my father so I have to have him in my life and he's my father so that justifies a multitude of sins. I could see that she was underwhelmed or maybe even hurt by the lack of embellishment.

But what the fuck am I supposed to say? I literally called Riley last nights to give me ideas and remind me why I love my mother because all the things I love and value about most people.. she doesn't have. She is not loyal, she is not independent or strong, she is not loving ad nurturing all the time (so that didn't feel completely genuine to say), she isn't woke or working on herself, she isn't accountable, she isn't trustworthy, she isn't ride or die. A lot of the things I loved about my mom, things I used to brag about my mom are no longer true for me. She no longer is my best friend she is a constant source of trauma, pain, and material for group and therapy. She is constantly dissaponting me and being insincere and fake. I no longer feel like a priority on her list nor do I feel cared for or even taken into account. I feel like she is holding on to me with one hand and I am trying to get out of her grasp and just get some air but every fucking time, she pushes me down further and adds more mountain to climb. It feels like a never-ending story of Cali is mentally ill and I am a mom so therefore I am clearly not in the wrong or whatever other excuse she deems relevant. and I just have to eat it and drown a little more. It was hard hearing her talk about how hard and traumatic my life is and her just being so fucking blissfully unaware that SHE is the hardest, more traumatic, stressful, largest hurdle that I face in my daily life. That is why I am so fucking committed to fixing this and why I have and am putting so much of myself into this process because it is life or death for me. This is my breaking point. I can't live with this fake ass shit anymore and either the relationship gets better or I will have to cut her out or set firm boundaries and find other support and stability in my life because it is NOT her.

Then after we both finished, Mark asked her to recap how she felt about the assignment, the active listening, and about the content. She gave some bullshit dull answer, and Mark (THANK GOD) persisted that she be more specific. She basically blamed me and my "black and white thinking" as for the reason that I would feel that she is willing and able to cut me off at the drop of a hat. I asked to elaborate and reminded her of the conversation where she clearly threatened me saying "Just how much money do you need. You clearly want to divorce me, so how much money do you need!". She stated that thats not how she remembers the conversation and that actually she was setting a "boundary" with me and "clarifying" about where the financial support was going to come from and setting an emotional boundary with me about what she was not willing to discuss with me at that time... Then our time was up and Mark recaps that he feels like he's leaving us hanging but that ya know Rome wasn't built in a day and these things take time.

Overall I feel like it was a good first step to starting to dig into the REAL problem and exposing how deeply I am hurt and how immense this problem really is.

2 notes · View notes

doctor243 · 4 years

Text

The End of the World

So this is an new IronWidow story that I am still putting together. I was just gonna do it as a one-shot but BOOM suddenly I had 5000+ words so why stop now, I thought lol. Let me know what you think^^

Summary: “This is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a......” or How I feel Endgame should have been written.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Natasha Romanoff

Chapter 1: Irony

Irony was a terrible thing.

The world was in a terrible state. Everyone had lost somebody, the economy had tanked, and the world was basically in a state of confusion and disarray. Questions that no one could answer were flooding the world, like “Why is there no more electricity in my city?”

Because the people needed to maintain the power plants were snapped away.

“Why is the highway jammed with cars?”

Because the drivers got snapped away.

“Why are half the buildings in New York razed to the ground?”

Because there are three airports in the vicinity of Manhattan and half of the pilots flying planes in the air space got snapped away.

“Why is my mother gone?”

Because…

Tony looked out the window of the common area, eyes soaking in the dishevelled state of the city. He nursed his glass of whiskey as he watched the dark clouds roll their way into his line of sight.

Because we failed.

He closed his eyes tightly with a sigh and a lone tear slid down his cheek. A stabbing pain shot through his heart as he remembered Pepper’s smile – tender, teasing and truthful. Then he nearly collapsed when he remembered being told how she had died when a car had smashed into her when the driver had been snapped away. She left only their two year-old Morgan as her legacy, who was now sleeping soundly in bed.

Because I failed.

“Why is the whiskey gone?”

Tony turned around, hastily wiping the tear from his cheek, finding Natasha glaring at the empty bottles by the liquor cabinet as if they had committed a personal offense against her. He smiled tiredly.

“It was gone before I got here,” he replied, deliberately taking a sip from his glass.

She cocked an eyebrow at him in amusement, smirking as though she was about to come back with a witty comment. But she didn’t. She just looked at him and he could see that underneath her casualness and humour, the same pain and exhaustion that haunted him haunted her too. She felt the same disappointment and resignation that he did, and she had come to the living room for the same reason as him. He stepped towards the liquor cabinet, placing his glass down on a table.

“You know what?” He asked, suddenly. “It’s not even a good time for whiskey. It’s raining – it’s perfect for hot chocolate.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed that fiery look. Her willingness to challenge anyone and anything they said; her refusal to be intimidated by super-intellect and super-strength. In the two years that Cap had whisked away the Rogues and been on the run, Tony had been angry. He had been absolutely livid. But he still knew that their absence left a hole in the fabric of the Avengers, a missing part of its soul.

“Hot chocolate?” Natasha repeated.

“Yes,” he answered decidedly. “Hot chocolate,” he pulled out a bottle of Irish Cream, “and a pot of gold.”

Natasha smiled in agreement. “I’ll start on the hot chocolate,” she turned to the kitchen.

“No,” Tony said, looking out of the window, where the rain pelted down like bullets from Thanos’ ships and the thunder shouted angrily after the flashes of lightning. “I’ll get the hot chocolate. You build the blanket fort.”

This time both eyebrows were raised at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was rather proud of himself, and he made a mental note to elicit that response from her as often as possible. “A blanket fort?” She asked incredulously. “Tony how many drinks did you have before I got here?”

“I’ve never built a blanket fort before,” he pointedly ignored her, pushing her in the direction of the couches. “Then again, I never did have a childhood or friends growing up.” It wasn’t a statement aimed at garnering sympathy, just a fact.

“And you think I did?” She asked again, almost offended.

“You’ve definitely built more makeshift covers in the wild than I have,” he replied methodically, putting the kettle on and pulling out the cocoa. “Spare blankets in the drawers.”

Nat sighed in resignation as she pulled out the twenty blankets that Tony referred to and got to work. She didn’t think it’d take this much effort just to get a fucking drink.

In the end, she was definitely very proud of herself. She’d utilised the couch cushions and the chairs to produce what seemed more like a blanket tent.

“Now that is a masterpiece,” Tony approached with two mugs of steaming Irish Hot Chocolate, clearly impressed. “Let’s do this.”

Once they were inside and comfortably situated, Natasha took a sip and groaned in pleasure. “Holy shit, Stark,” she hastily took another mouthful. “This has got to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from,” Tony sipped with a smile. “I’m just impressed you found a lantern to bring in here.”

“You were taking so long I had the time to go to Cap’s storeroom,” she rolled her eyes.

Tony snorted. “Remember when he would go down there and do weekly checks on his field pack? As if we were going to send him into the woods at any moment?”

Natasha laughed fondly. “The stuff in there was from World War II!” She took another sip. “Still acting like he was in boot camp.”

They sat there in their fortress of blankets and memories, taking turns to refill their drinks of comfort, and reminiscing about days gone by. At one point they added vodka-laced whipped cream which, surprisingly, Tony made from scratch.

Time was an obscure construct for them, and at a certain point, when all the bottles (how many were there again?) of Bailey’s and all the cocoa had been expanded, Tony closed his eyes and sighed. They were both past the point of inebriation, but hadn’t that been the point?

“Irony is a bitch,” he whispered.

“What’d you mean?” Nat asked. They were both on their backs, staring at the ceiling of sheets and the lantern turned off.

“How long has it been?” he asked quietly.

“Since what?” Natasha mumbled.

“Since you guys killed Thanos?” he answered.

Natasha was silent for a little bit, sobering slightly. “6 months,” she replied finally.

Tony wished to God that he had been there, but he had just returned from Titan with Nebula. He had been too dehydrated, malnourished, and emotionally incapacitated from hearing the news about Pepper’s premature departure.

“Everybody lost somebody,” he finally explained. “It wasn’t just 50 percent of the world. Other people died too in the aftermath.”

“I know,” Natasha turned to look at him.

“Everything’s gone to shit,” he gritted out. “And yet…” he reached to his Arc Reactor and squeezed it, as though it were some kind of comfort. “And yet the irony is, he was right,” he wheezed out.

Natasha sat up. Even in her state, she knew she had to hear this, whether to agree or disagree.

“I lost Peter, Pepper and Happy,” he choked out. “But the world is slowly healing, world governments are putting selfish agendas aside and actually working together, and pollution has gone down exponentially. World peace and world hunger pretty much solved.” His body shook at every word he forced out.

“Tony…” Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder, and as she stared into his tear-filled eyes, she knew he didn’t believe himself.

“Was the price worth it?” Tony was sobbing at this point. “Was he actually right?”

Natasha sighed and slipped her arms around his head and pulled him into an embrace, which he immediately returned, crying unabashedly. She knew that he knew the answer; he just needed to hear it from someone else.

“Of course not,” she whispered soothingly. “Nothing is worth losing lives for.” Tony sobbed even harder at this. “Not one,” she continued. “And certainly not half of all lives.” He never loosened his grip, and eventually Natasha started humming a song he’d never heard before. “We don’t trade lives, Tony,” she said at one point. They stayed that way for a while, him breathing in her scent while she played with his hair and hummed. He always knew that she’d been the heart of the team, helping to centre the strongest heads and to be the voice of unity. She’d turned the team into a family, and he lost that when she left with Steve.

“Let’s leave New York,” he said suddenly.

Natasha pulled away to look at him in the eyes. “What?” There was that eyebrow of question again.

“Let’s leave this building and go somewhere else,” he looked at her with determination from his red, wet eyes. “I have some property in Georgia, by the lake. And we can build a cabin. You can have your own room, and Morgan can be away from all the carnage in this city.”

“Tony, we have responsibilities to carry out,” she argued.

“Which we will be able to carry out with a change of environment,” he replied. This seemed like a better and better idea with each passing minute. “Cap will stay in New York and we’ll be able to contact our foreign friends when I build the hologram communicators into the cabin. C’mon Nat, I need to take Morgan to a place she doesn’t have to witness pain and suffering on a daily basis, and I can’t watch her alone. I can barely take care of myself.”

She thought about it silently, but the breaking in his voice took the strength out of her denial. The truth was that she needed a change as well, and the constant reminders of failures in her everyday life did not help. She needed time to heal. They needed to heal.

“Okay,” she whispered, returning to hugging him. He pulled her closer in response, clearly satisfied with her answer. Where do you turn when there’s nowhere left to go? What do you do when you’ve lost everything? “Okay,” she repeated.

Let me know what you think guys^^

Next Chapter: Here

Masterlist: Here

Tags: @littlemsstark3000 @katebishopofearth @black-ironwidow @ironwidow @ironwidoww @natashastarkotp @ironwidow10 @natashastark3000 @latinatasharomanoff @616tonesnat @natashastarkov @generationmemes @queeenpersephone

#ironwidow #Iron Man #irondad #Black Widow #tony stark #natasha romanoff #tony stark x natasha romanoff #tony x nat #natasha x tony #ptsd #death #infinity war #end game #the hollow men #this is how the world ends #fanfiction #morgan stark #pepper dies

53 notes · View notes

onlylaboum · 4 years

Text

ok long rant ahead, you can scroll past this or get frustrated with me i guess

(gif credit)

kinda really hope that if laboum has a new comeback this year, it’ll be organized and received well, especially by new audiences because damnit they deserve it. i know that a lot of people prefer LABOUM’s older upbeat / bubbly past songs and i do like those more too, but i doubt that the change in genre is the reason the group hasn’t gained success. new people did discover them through Between Us and Firework, and some members did want to try more mature songs for a while so i’m really happy they got to try out something new and show their versatility.

i think LABOUM’s status, which after all these years is still a ‘nugu group‘ sadly, is in part because of fans. their domestic fandom consists for a large part of (rather creepy tbh) men who are or were in the military (bc the group performed so much for soldiers and had taken on the role of this kind of group), and i cannot imagine that type of fanbase being a positive and creative environment that stimulates streaming and promoting the group. (this is also why i have trouble sharing fancams or performance pictures; a lot are from questionable fanaccounts. :/ )

then there’s the intl. fandom which is there ofc, but it’s quite small and there are few translators and content creators. lack of translations makes it harder to actually keep up to date with what they’re doing, and if there are few twitter fancams, gif makers, reviewers, reaction videos, etc., not many new people will be introduced to them. maybe i’m somewhat projecting my own failure to contribute to the fandom onto the rest of it, but i do really notice a lack of posts in the tags on tumblr (e.g. sometimes it’s one post per _ amount of days) and on twitter i can barely find a handful of accounts dedicated to the group too.

moreover, however, i don’t think the blame can be put on consumers alone as it is quite ridiculous that they need to be relied upon so much for translations and promotion. i’ve talked with other friends about this before and we really have the feeling that Global H put more budget into the outfits nowadays than promotion and the production value of their MVs. it’s a shame!!! their custom outfits from the past were in fact what made them stand out, and so did their unique concepts and well edited videos. i am very well aware that their company does not possess as much budget as other labels, but the distribution of it is off. next to that, the girls are treated like shit? they’re put on diets (remember also that shit trick the company pulled on them when they were on Weekly Idol and were promised food and got crackers as prize?), and for years they had phone / SNS use restrictions as if they were still a rookie group (and i find it too controlling regardless). it’s SO fucking stupid of the company, because they 1. are mistreating their own idols and 2. not making use of the opportunity of social media as they could. active social media use by idols and providing updates or fun videos etc. is one of the things that can make a group more engaging and interesting to become a fan of.

sorry, this has been a long rant. i’m just so fed up with the status of the group, the interview from a while ago in which Solbin stated she felt they still hadn’t made it and she even considered getting a side job, and how i haven’t done much on this blog during the last couple of comebacks. i still often consider adding an mods but the last time i did that for a kpop blog, i soon realized that keeping in contact with other mods almost daily took only more effort and time rather than that it was a relief. and i just don’t have such time right now, or at least not the space for it in my head now i’m trying to finish my Master thesis with a lot of struggle. if they do make a comeback while i’m still working on my thesis (until early july at least), i’ll at least try to share whatever i can. i will also make a list of good ways to promote their stuff and maybe i and followers can do such things together by then (e.g. an mv streaming party)? so yeah. ok rant is over. please do let me know your thoughts, just pls be nice ^^;;

#personal #but ok to rb unless youre gonna be rude bc please dont lol #laboum #nugu gg #underrated kpop

8 notes · View notes

morethanithoughtofficialblog · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4: A slight hint of hope

In which the future looks brighter than you may think

*Your POV*

I found myself writing down a letter to the president, technically begging him to let monsters be truly free. Again. I was starting to ask myself why I even try. Again. This the seventeenth letter I've written to him, and yet, he won't listen.

Then I told myself that I shouldn't be thinking like this. That a lot of monsters had their hope on me, therefore, I should try harder.

I smiled, knowing that this was my inner dialogue every single day. And yet, I still have it, no matter what I'm doing. This is one of the few things that amaze me these days.

It's been a while since I have met them. Maybe a month or two; maybe even more. Ever since then, we've been talking for hours in my office every single day. I kinda like it. It gives me the feeling that I'm not alone in the world.

But then again, they'll probably leave once this is over. Or maybe not. Who knows?

They all have been awfully nice to me. Nicely than a lot of humans have ever been. This is one of the thousand reasons I keep writing to the president.

Maaaaaybe I should return to my cheery self. I'm being quite serious, haven't I?

No one can blame, though. I hate to admit it, but this issue is worrying me more than I expected. At first, the case was interesting, yes, but now it's kinda overwhelming, knowing that I'm dealing with a weak point; discrimination.

I just hope I don't end up like Rosa Parks after this. But that's just me being stubborn. Again.

Before my mind could get more depressive, though, I heard someone knock the door. I mentally groaned, with the feeling that I was gonna get a shitty opinion for the trillionth time.

"Come in"

"Wow, that's for sure the sourest answer you've given me, sweetie. That's quite the record!"

A smile crept onto my face. I recognize that voice anywhere!

She slammed the fricking door open like it was some sort of drama movie (which it's exactly what her life is) and posed dramatically. She was wearing sunglasses (even if it was cloudy outside), a fancy-yet-casual blouse, and some skinny jeans. Not to mention the usual high heels that make her bigger than a fucking tree. Oh, how not to miss her?

"Hello, beautiful!" She exclaimed before kissing my cheek on a french-greeting style "You look EXHAUSTED! But, hey, at least you are wearing makeup. Now THAT'S progress!"

"Mailey, I've been wearing makeup daily ever since I got this job"

"Wait..." she paused slightly, then let out a fake gasp. "YOU HAVEN'T BEEN WEARING IT VOLUNTARILY?!"

I giggled way louder than I wanted to, but I didn't mind. Mailey's has always managed to put me in such a good mood, all thanks to her cocky attitude. I haven't seen her for months, so I just really missed her. But I probably said that already. Oh well.

"Oh, (Y/N) darling!" She clapped her hands together in such a girly and unnatural way I almost lose it "Let's go to a café! I don't want to chat in such a sad and old place!"

"Uh, eh... you know what? A break would be great" I hesitantly answered, thinking that I just could clear my mind for a while. I actually haven't done that since I was a preteen, soooo... yeah...

"Wonderful! Let's get going! Just one thing... we will go to Starbucks!"

"Seriously?"

"You know I don't like Dunkin' Donuts, sweetheart. I don't tolerate that bitter taste you normally choose"

"And you know I don't tolerate that overwhelming sweetness you choose every time"

She took a pause and put down briefly her sunglasses, staring at me in fake shock. Oh, I know how much she hates Dunkin' Donuts, but Starbucks simply sucks!

"Well, I'll be the one paying, so I think it's fair" she teasingly added with a huge, goofy grin on her face.

Shit, she got me.

...

Oh well.

"Hmm. Guess you won this time, huh?" I answered, throwing my arms in defeat. She made a victory pose, and I silently giggled. I shouldn't be feeling this lonely since monsters visited today, right?

Well, guess what.

They didn't.

But I'm not complaining since I'm the one who told them not to come for today, arguing that they should take a break from leaving and coming. Some of them didn't think twice and accepted, which made me feel kinda bad. How stubborn have I been to actually keep them coming so often without a chance to take a breath?

...and that's why I also needed a break. Because I was about to become a fucking mess. Leave the tears for the night, (Y/N).

And so I left. Good thing I was doing extra hours, or else, I would have been crying after some time being all alone.

Sometimes I wonder if I can call myself a proper 20 years old adult. I mean, I'm quite mature at some things, but in others, I almost feel like I'm a 5 years old brat.

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

*Frisk's POV*

It feels kinda weird not meeting (Y/N) today. Sure, I was getting exhausted of the daily routine, but know... I feel like something's missing. And that something is (Y/N).

We actually haven't been doing much in this little house, since we are really crowded in here. Yes, it has two floors, but we are more than 10 people, and it's starting to get on my nerves. Not even the orphanage felt this crowded.

But, hey, at least I'm with my friends and family and not with some random kids pushing each other. I think this is pretty much ok, I guess.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. Excited, I quickly ran to get it, and a smile flashed on my face. Emily, the daughter of the kind owners, has come for her weekly visit. Even Sans seemed eager to receive her, noticing his white pinpricks turn brighter.

She's 10 years old, so her voice is quite soft and pretty. I think she's on her school's choir and musical group, which it's totally cool. She has golden, twirly hair that gets not too long below her shoulders, and tends to wear a lot of dresses.

We were friends in the orphanage, so I know a thing or two more than the monsters do.

"Hi, kind creatures!" she chirped happily, making all of us grin wider. We returned the greeting quickly, which just made her giggle.

"I brought some gifts for you!" she added, clearly excited. I couldn't help myself, so I ended up drawing a small smile upon my lips. I'm always happy with her. She's just too kind and innocent, like the cinnamon roll Papyrus. I really missed her when I went on my trip to the Underground.

We all gathered in a circle, and watch with awe the food she brought us.

"Finally something new!" Undyne exclaimed with joy, hugging the little girl.

She also brought action figures for Papyrus, some clothes for all of us, some beautiful earrings to Toriel, and a book for Sans. Oh, so that's why he was eager, huh? I just remembered that she gives Sans a book every week, which he normally ends in the night after her visit. Then he just keeps rereading it until Emily comes again. It's fun to see him stress over a single book, though. One day he almost broke down when he found out that it was an open ending. Or, how he calls them, a 'fuck-the-reader's-mind-and-soul' ending.

"thanks, kid" he muttered, trying to hide his excitement and failing miserably. I smirked quietly, and he shrugged it off with a shy smile. I don't get this guy; but that's fine, I guess.

She decided to stay with us for the night, clearly feeling bored at her house. I understand, though. When you live in an orphanage you are never lonely, but if they suddenly adopt you with no other kids, it feels weird.

And so, we ended up planning the perfect game for a sleepover: pillow fighting. I was teaming up with Flowey (I forced him to play) and Emily. The other team was formed by Papyrus, Undyne, and Sans... who was just lazily resting on a pillow. And, naturally, Papyrus groaned when he noticed.

"BROTHER! GET UP, YOU LAZYBONES, AND HELP US BUILD A FORT! I DON'T PRETEND TO LOSE ONLY FOR YOUR LAZINESS!"

"sorry, bro. guess my laziness-"

"SANS"

"-rattled your bones"

"SAAAAAAAAAAAANS!!!!!!"

When I was about to protest, Asgore's cellphone started to ring.

And before he took it, I saw the ID caller...

And it was (Y/N)

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

*Your POV*

I was listening to Mailey's plans for the future. Apparently, her boyfriend has an apartment in San Diego, and she wants to go with him. She says that her future is better in there and blah blah blah. I certainly don't think that's the reason she wants to go, but hey, I can't judge.

I slowly took a sip from my coffee, being the bitterest I could find. And, somehow, it was still sweet. Goddamnit.

If Mailey goes away, then... my life will be pretty much the same, actually. Yes, I will miss her, but we are not best friends and we didn't see each other frequently in the past. Still, I will have fewer people to casually tell my secrets and some of my problems. Now I have less than half of the friends I had in high school. Great.

But, well, she has changed. A lot. Yes, she still makes me laugh with her self-security, but it's not the same. She has lost that... simpleness she had. Now she posts on Instagram every day, she wants to be an influencer, and hell, she even put herself some pink strips on her blonde hair. Maybe I miss seeing that dorky part of her. She's just, well... different. I shouldn't be thinking like that, but it's true.

I was about to hide my face so Mailey couldn't take a picture of me when I received a call. Wow, no one can have a break these days, right?

The number wasn't part of my contacts, which was weird, but I decided to answer anyway. Not for being a good person, but as an excuse to calm Mailey the fuck down.

"Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N). How can I help you?"

"Hello, (Y/N)... may I have a word with you?" a rough and familiar voice answered, which immediately put me nervous. Who is this guy?

"...I'm sorry sir, but could you specify who are you? We may have talked before, but I just can't remem-"

"Of course we have talked, miss (Y/N)" he interrupted, and I silently gulped "Actually, you wanted to discuss something with me, isn't that right?"

No way-

"I'm the president, miss (L/N). You have caught my interest with your detailed arguments, saying that monsters deserve a chance to grow in society. Or did I just called the wrong person?"

I stood there in shock for a few seconds, then made my way out of Starbucks to hear better. Keep your cool, (Y/N), and everything will be alright.

"You are totally right, Mr. President. I'm the one who sent those letters."

"Great. Now, let's discuss a few things, ok?"

"Of course sir".

I listened carefully, searching for any hints of hatred or irony in his voice. Instead, I just heard interest in the way he mentioned my arguments.

Eventually, we gave each other a quick-yet-formal goodbye, and I immediately called Asgore.

This is a serious business.

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

*Asgore's POV*

My mind was thinking the worst when I saw (Y/N)'s ID on my phone. I saw that others were worried, too. Could this be the end? Are we going back to the Underground, after all those years of waiting?

I picked up reluctantly, watching the expectant reaction of my wi- Toriel, the expectant reaction of Toriel.

"Oh, hello (Y/N)!" I exclaimed, trying to keep my hopes high enough for everyone. "How has been your day?"

"It's been fine, thank you. How has been yours?" She bluntly answered, sounding like she was... distant.

Let's just hope it isn't what I'm thinking.

"It's been good, (Y/N). Anyways, how can I help you, young one?"

She didn't answer immediately. Actually, she remained still for a long time. The only thing I could hear was her breathing, and my positive smile was turning into a nervous one.

"Asgore, we have something we need to discuss"

And my smile dropped.

#sans x reader #more than i thought fanfiction #more than i thought #chapter 4 #sans #reader #x reader #undertale

8 notes · View notes

adrianicsea · 6 years

Note

hi i'm also broken down by school work this fine monday evening. why does college suck so hard and how do u manage cause i am out of ideas

there are many reasons college sucks depending on who/where you are and what you’re studying. i’ve always been blessed with the ability to coast/make really good grades without studying so i don’t have many study tips

that said as someone with adhd i find things are SOOOOOO much easier when you keep lists/schedules/due dates somewhere where you can constantly see them. i’m also one of those people who remembers things better the more i write them down so i really do keep two monthly calendars in my room plus a weekly one and a monthly/weekly/daily planner that i keep with me and yes i do write all of my due dates in ALL four of them. it’s a nightmare to sit down and do them every month but after writing all my due dates and deadlines and other obligations three or four times in a row the chances of me forgetting them are slim-to-none

other than that? i guess general health/life advice like try to get a decent night of sleep whenever you can (and if you can’t, find little naptimes during the day or other ways to fill up that deficit whenever possible), try and eat at least two square meals a day (three’s ideal but sometimes shit just happens)

this might seem like an odd thing to say but also make SURE you take time to do something fun/rewarding for yourself once a day even if you feel like you don’t have time for it or don’t deserve it. there were a few days last week where whenever i wasn’t actively working on campus, doing homework, or in class, i was sleeping, and while i DID catch up on some of my sleep deficit that way, i was still miserable because i felt like my entire existence was just school and sleep and like the days were over before i got to do anything to enjoy them. school is important but we are LIVING BREATHING PEOPLE ON EARTH first and foremost and you shouldn’t ever deny yourself the joys of being a living breathing person on earth because then what’s the point of doing everything else?

also if you have any sort of mental illnesses/disorders the above things all become exponentially more important than they already are. unfortunately being neurotypical makes things like eating and sleeping in a healthy way more difficult too, but a lot of disorders and illnesses become worse and harder to manage if you aren’t eating and sleeping well so try to mitigate that as much as you can

good luck out there!! it’s hard but i believe that you can get through it :)

#long post #Anonymous #asks

5 notes · View notes

wildflower8281 · 6 years

Text

#nunlife

A lot of people ask me what #nunlife was like and why I left. So I’m answering some of that here in various parts because #nunlife is so multi-faceted, happens in steps and in 8 years I experienced many sides of it! Also, the reasons why I left deserve some space, thought and clarity. 😊 While I do get saucy in various parts because lots of my #nunlife was kinda cray, I also would not change my time in the convent because it has brought me to where I am now, a space and a life that is full and bright. So even though I call out some of the bullshit antics here and in other places I’ve written, I also still hold much love for the actual humans who I grew up with there (I was age 22-30 in the convent, with many of the same) and who I know are still living that life with good intentions. Also, I know there are many former nuns who prefer not to revisit convent life or remember things, which I honor. For me, I have no problem sharing (really?!) any parts of it - the good, the bad and the ugly. And honestly, sharing has helped me to make others aware and also reap the wisdom from those years for my own life and spirit.

Below is everything from our insane schedule, sleeping on pieces of wood to chauffeuring the priests around. Also the cool stuff like traveling to the White Mountains of New Hampshire every summer, playing volleyball and getting a new name. Oh and why the sound of a bell is semi-ptsd for me!

In adjectives only, nun life was: fun, challenging, quiet, loud, sacrificial, routine, adventurous, exhausting, annoying, ignorant, blind, well-intended, broken and beautiful. Full of humanity, right?!

What order? I entered The Servants of the Lord & the Virgen of Matara (ssvm), they are the female branch of the larger Religious Family of the Incarnate Word, mostly a missionary catholic priesthood, originally founded in Mendoza, Argentina in 1984. (www.ive.org; www.iveamerica.org) The order has definitely had it’s fair share of shadiness that has recently come to light, but honestly none of that had any personal, major effects on my life or leaving. The sisters were founded in 1988, marking 30 years this year (www.ssvm.org; www.ssvmusa.org) They are a catholic missionary order and so when I met the ssvm while attending Catholic U. in DC, they had only been in the states for maybe a handful of years. They only had probably 7 American sisters, most of them still in formation. I think my class was probably only the 4th or 5th class here in this province (which now includes USA, Guyana, Surinam, Mexico & Canada!) Still to this day, the Novitiate formation houses for both the men and women resides in Maryland, very close to DC.

Entering the Convent: I entered at age 22, only 9 months after graduating college. I entered the Novitiate House/Convent, where both postulants and novices lived together. Postulancy is the stage upon entrance until a girl receives her habit & religious name. At this point, that is usually a year or longer. For me, back in the early days of SSVM in this province, it was only 11 months and for some of my classmates, it was only 1-4 months. The order did not have a certain level of church approval yet (it only had local ones or something,) so we didn’t yet have to follow canonical rules, which was fine and semi-normal.

When I entered, there was a novice class already living in the house that consisted of all Americans and 1 Philipina. They were about 8. My class that followed was also 8, but we were much more diverse: 3 Americans, a pair of Pakistani twins (truth), 1 Haitan, 1 Mexican and 1 Guatemalan. Of the 8 of us, only myself and the Mexican girl eventually left. Of the novice class before me, 4 remain and 4 left. The ones who remain have been and are still in various missions all over the world such as Italy, Tunis, France, and various places across the US.

My Religious Name: Technically now after about a year of postulancy, the sisters are given their religious names in a special, fancy ceremony and Mass. We were allowed to propose names, but also ultimately our superiors chose them for us. The name given to me was: Sr. Maria Lumen Christi, which is Latin for Sr. Mary, Light of Christ. I loved the name and really resonated with it. As all of us were named after Mary in some fashion, we went by the 2nd part, so I was Sr. Lumen, or just Lumen (as we called each other) for the next 8 years. (I still feel that my “calling” here is to Be Light, so that name still is most definitely a part of my being from all eternity.)

Novitiate Life – Koolaid Initiation: I spent about a year and ½ in this house and for the most part, it was pretty fun and I loved it. It was actually a house in a small Bowie, MD neighborhood that had been turned into a convent (which only meant that 1 room was created into a Chapel basically.) It had 4 bedrooms upstairs that were stocked with bunk beds (except for the Superior’s room,) a kitchen & dining room, a library room, a study/classroom, the chapel and a backyard where I played my first volleyball games. At our smallest, we were probably 8 or so, and at our largest in that house we were probably around 20, definitely more than allowed. The class who entered after me was large, to the point where we set up bunks in the library and in the garage that summer, until my class moved out to the Juniorate House in DC that Fall. It was community living at it’s best.

Everything in convent life was scheduled. We had a weekly schedule, divided into the days, divided into hours, marked by the bell ringer, which was an actual job. (To this day, whenever I hear a certain tone of bell, I am brought right back – it’s semi-ptsd and semi-nostalgic for me! Truly.) These years were basically learning how to live like a nun, how to live in community, as well as studying the catholic faith. A normal day in the Novitiate House might look like this:

Take a good, long look at that one!

If anyone ever gives me shit for being slightly cray about my personal time, tell them to go live that life for 8 years and get back to me!

Work duties consisted of various tasks to keep the house in order: cleaning, laundry, sacristy (taking care of the things in the chapel), cook (not cooking every meal, but meal planning for the house & coaching those of us who had never cooked in our lives!), librarian, liturgy (prepping all music & songs for Mass & prayer) etc. There were also sisters in charge of sports and recreational activities. There were also “drivers” – as some, but not all of us could drive. Picking and dropping of the priests for Mass (yes, that was a thing…don’t get me started) and various other things we needed them for was a daily task. In this house, there were only 2 showers, 1 phone line and maybe 1-2 computers. Needless to say, we all learned about community in very real ways.

While the novitiate years were mainly focused on community life and study, with some apostolic work on weekends (like teaching ccd, etc) once a sister left the novitiate, she entered the Juniorate House of Studies, where all of that only intensified & multiplied.

Below: the novitiate and juniorate houses present day. The superiors and lead sisters in these houses were girls I lived with for many years.

Juniorate House of Studies – A Whole Lotta Crazy: A sister usually would

spend 2-3 years here and begins her life in this house only after her first profession of temporary vows (poverty, chastity and obedience.) It was all the things above – including the hour by hour daily schedule complete with large bell ringing & everything - except everything was more – classes, responsibilities, hours awake, hours driving, cleaning, cooking for more, etc. It was meant to be a harder, more demanding lifestyle, in preparation for “missionary life.” The house was huge, there were 2-3 classes of sisters living together, usually over 20 of us, plus the superior and formators (older sisters who help the superior in various specific arenas like discipline & studies.) (Again, if ever anyone wonders why I revel in living alone…!!!!) Thankfully there were way more bathrooms and showers here, but sadly it was in SE DC, so there was not a yard to play in, but we had access to the school gym which is where we would play volleyball and basketball about once a week if we were lucky. Sleep here was less, despite the fact that work was more. We would rise at 6 I think, but usually were not in bed until 11pm. If you had to pick up Father, you were up at probably 515am. While there was still a siesta scheduled in the Juniorate, very often sisters would catch up on work or study during that hour because there was just not time enough in the day to keep ahead of the game. While it sounds like nun-studies might be an eye roll, the order is actually super academic and takes studies very seriously. We learned some high level philosophy, metaphysics, church history, roman history, not to mention Latin, Spanish and Italian studies. A shit ton of church documents, papal letters, names, dates, etc. It wasn’t just make sure you know the Saints and the 10 commandments. This order knows their Catholic doctrine, history and all of the Church documents really intensely. So, classes, studying and exams were very real and for some caused a great deal of stress.

Despite the demanding schedule and responsibilities, these years were probably the most fun and enjoyable for me, because I was not in charge and didn’t have enough time to realize how much I naturally disliked a lot of people and a lot of movement, ha! I was too busy people pleasing and trying to be a good, docile, generous nun! But honestly, a lot of us were around the same age – 18 to early 30s – and generally had a great time together. There were a shit ton of cultural differences that we all were challenged by and eventually learned to honor, as they all made us more open and wiser. Meals together, sports, road trips to other convents or shrines or holy sites, recreation and games, and religious feasts and celebrations were usually joyful & lively, with an abundance of good food, guitar playing and lots of songs. We celebrated the various represented cultures with feasts of ethnic food, drinks, music and ceremonies. Every summer, we would drive up to the White Mountains of New Hampshire for vacation. We would spend a month hiking those awesome mountains, swimming in lakes, camping, playing volleyball, barbecuing and singing around the campfires. Those were also pretty amazing times, despite the on-the-go routine and lack of sleep!

Things to notice about these years: the young ages, the lack of free unstructured time, the lack of sleep, the dozens of hours being taught by a superior or priest (read: Koolaid,) the lack of time alone, catering to the priests…Anyone who knows me, knows that I do think the life was and is a cult...I just never noticed it until years later. (Still wouldn’t change it though! lol!)

Deny Thyself: Penances, YAY!

Some things that are rarely brought up in conversations about #conventlife are the physical penances. As most people know, Catholics practice various forms of penance. Our order was and is very old school, orthodox Catholic and so the physical penances were very much a part of the spirituality and practice. This may be new or surprising or crazy to you, but for us it was pretty freaking normal and eventually not a big deal. I understand if you read this and think that we were like trying to live in the 1500s. It was like that sometimes!

o Fasting: every Friday of the year (except a few) it was encouraged to fast until dinner. This was always optional. There were all kinds of ways to fast, including removing sugar or milk from coffee, only eating bread or fruit, etc. There were a zillion ways to deny the palate & appetite and we were allowed to do whatever worked for us.

o Hair shirt: this was introduced in the Juniorate and we could wear it in accordance with what our spiritual director allowed. It was basically a lightweight chainlink belt that we wore around our waist, under our habit, as a penance – to remind us that we are sinners, or to remind us ‘what Christ suffered for our sins.’

o Self-flagellation: also a thing! In the juniorate, we were given a medium sized whip made of rope, I don’t remember the name. At least once a week, we would perform community self-flagellation, on our knees, at night before we all went to sleep, usually to the duration of a decade of the Rosary (a few minutes.) This may have increased during Lent, like 1 extra day a week. Since it was an obvious thing, it wasn’t easy to do it secretly. I’m sure many of us also performed this penance during silent retreat weeks and months.

o Sleeping on Wood: I discovered this option for penance at a visit to a NY convent, when I was still in the Juniorate. Girls would elect to remove their mattress and use a similar size piece of plywood to sleep on. I asked to do this my last year in the Juniorate and slept this way my 4 years in Harlem.

These are just the main forms I remember, and only physical penances. There were a zillion other ways we learned to “deny ourselves” throughout the day mentally, emotionally, etc. But I thought the physical was worth noting since I would guess most folks don’t think these types of penances still exist, except in some strict monastic convents maybe. Well, they do!

And on that fun note, I will end this post!

Up next: Sent to Spanish Harlem!

#myponderings #nunlife #catholic #catholiclife #catholicchurch #patriarchy #convent #conventlife #ssvm #ive #nuns #religious #sisters #novitiate #postconvent #exnun #penance #othodoxcatholic #ponderings

4 notes · View notes

imnoexpertblog · 5 years

Text

I'M BACK, (maybe insert something here a little less aggressive than BITCHES) ... Nah

8/13/18

Ahhhh... It’s been a while, huh?

I had an Engagement/Housewarming party to prep for and host a couple weekends ago AND my best friend ever (ABBIE) visited from (the middle of no where) North Carolina! She was only here for a week so I took off a couple days of work to see her as much as possible. I figured it was the least I could do because she flew here just for my party. That sweet thing. (Honestly she’s kind of harsh and not sweet at all but she is sweet to me LOL).

You know what I love about my blog? I write it because I like it. I write it when I want to. It’s not something I have to get done, that I have a deadline for, etc. Dishes? Need to be done at some point every single day in my house. Laundry? Weekly chore that NEEDS to be done. My blog? Definitely something I do to relax and soothe me. Something that makes me feel good. Its not something I am obligated to do. Much like my modeling! But when I need a break, I need a break.

I took a little break because I was wearing myself thin a little bit. Not with writing, but with everything. I took a break from modeling when we bought our house because, well, I had to. I wasn’t getting enough sleep during the day because of the buying process; going to the bank when it was open, meeting with my lender when he was available, house hunting during the day, being awake for inspections, etc. Modeling was something that needed to be put on the back burner for about 5 or 6 weeks. Baby (my fiancé) is the one who pushed me to get back into it in July. Things started to slow down and I had time again! I have an issue though. I do this thing where I get very ambitious and excited to get back at something or start something new to the point that I overdo it. I booked about 8 shoots in the matter of 2 weeks and a lot of them were out of the area. I overdid it for sure and burnt myself out all over again. That wasn’t all that did it though; Abbie was about to visit, the house needed to be in order, having Nugget (my soon to be step-son) every other week, weddings and birthday parties to attend, we had our engagement photos done, etc. Honestly, adulthood was getting in the way. I am glad I booked so many shoots though because I am putting out my best content right now.

The engagement pictures are GORGEOUS. I am in LOVE. If you've read my two posts about how I began modeling, how I continue to do so now, and my advice for how to get into it, (A Model Was Discovered and Modeling a Year Later) you will recall my first real photoshoot. I posed as the bride in a wedding styled shoot for a photographer named Linsey Goodson here in Green Bay. She started it all for me and I've always been a huge fan of her work. It was such a treat for her to capture the love Baby and I have for one another in pictures. If you'd like to see more of her amazing work, go to https://linseygoodsonphoto.com/ to check it out! The wedding styled shoot we collaborated on is on her website, too. You can find her on social media platforms. I know I put a bunch in this post but if you want to see more, follow me on Instagram! @sabrinadwieland

Any who, I have a lot of requested blog-topics to cover right now. I picked 3 just to start off with this week. I’m just gonna let you in on what they are, right up front: Religion in my personal life, my love for the show FRIENDS, and being friends with the opposite sex.

Starting off pretty heavy with the religion thing, aren’t we? A follower of mine on Instagram asked me to touch on this and I found it to be an interesting inquiry. I feel like the new age of religion is that there isn’t much of it. Or am I just not paying attention? Or are people just private about it? I’d be surprised if you told me people are just private about ANYthing in this day in age. I just had a different follower of mine tell me that she feels like she knows me just because of what I post and how often I post. I thought that was pretty cool to hear actually; that people pay attention and find my content enjoyable. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I’m not religious at all. It’s most-likely from the fact that I wasn’t raised religiously. Now, some of my family members are genuinely bothered with me “not believing.” It’s irionic because these family member who are bothered are some of the ones who raised me on a daily basis. It’s as if they forgot they never took me to church or taught me anything about the Bible. My mother and I would recite the “I lay me down to sleep…” prayer before bed but that was about it. And that didn’t last very long anyway. I wouldn’t say it’s that I “don’t believe.” I just don’t see much proof of the actual … THING I am supposed to believe in. An all-powerful man somewhere in the sky that controls everything. It’s hard for me to grasp, but it’s not for me to say it doesn’t exist. I’ve always been a bit more scientific in my beliefs. I do, however, think that we all need something to believe for our own sanity. Whether that something is real or not. It’s nice to think that Baby, Nugget, and I can go to an afterlife of some sort and be together forever. It’s nice to think that everything happens for a reason and someone or something is taking care of us, and has plans for our souls. I wish I could know if this all was real. I just don’t know if it is and I can’t count on it. I can’t say I haven’t prayed to something in times of need or hoped that there was someone/something greater than all of us taking care of me. Like I said, I have a hard time believing that it’s a real thing. Crazy things have happened in my life, miracles have taken place; horrible things have also happened, too. I’m kind of stuck in the middle with religion. I don’t know what I believe, and I’m okay with that uncertainty. I live my life with reason and logic while also trying to hold faith in SOMEthing. Even if I don’t really know what that thing is.

FRIENDS. Holy cow if you even know what my name is, you also already know I’m the biggest FRIENDS fan in the universe. I know every word of the script, I swear. It’s almost sickening and I am super okay with it. LOL. People think it’s a little odd that someone as young as me (22) is so obsessed with a show that aired from 1994 to 2004. It’s actually been in my life since I was born because my mother watched it from the beginning. I obviously didn’t understand any of it until I was older, but I’ve been watching since as long as I can remember. My mother and I have had quite the history and we struggled with our relationship when I lived with her (and that is putting it mildly). But Friends was one thing that brought us together, rather than caused issues. I’ve noticed watching/listening to the show soothes me. This sounds really weird, but because of the positive connotation it has, it seriously de-stresses me and calms me down. I have this show playing on some electronic of mine at a point during almost every day of my life. It’s on when I’m cleaning, when I’m getting ready for the day or a photoshoot, when I used to do homework in college, when I cook, when I need something to fall asleep to, when I actually just want to watch it, etc. I know the show so well that I don’t even need to physically watch it, I just want to listen to it so I listen to it at work and even when I shower. I kick some serious ass at Friends trivia because I’ve watched the series (10 seasons. 236 episodes) over 50 times. I’ve done estimates and if I watch a certain amount of episodes every day on average (which I do), I have easily seen it all way more than that, even. I’ve owned season on VHS and DVD. I literally only have Netflix for the ease of FRIENDS watching. The day it leaves Netflix, I will be heartbroken and a huge mess. It’s like a security blanket for me. I laugh at it harder the more I watch it. I feel like I know the characters personally. I own a bunch of FRIENDS merchandise. I know an unhealthy amount about the show. I just have a really deep and strong connection to the show and it may be weird to some people but I love it. I recommend the shit out of it. I’m not even sorry for swearing, that was just passion.

Being friends with the opposite sex. From my perspective. I just talked to Baby about this so it’s coinditental that I write about it today. The wedding he and I attended on Saturday was actually for a long-time female friend of his. He was talking about how he was thinking of all the times they had and memories they shared. I found myself feeling… I don’t know the word exactly… I couldn’t relate. I have had two very close male friends and it was a constant struggle because they both wanted to be more than that when I was friends with them. Other standard male friends of mine that I never got very close to always eventually hit on me, asked me out, or flirted with me in some way. That isn’t me being conceited or anything, it’s just how it always went. I have one male friend that has never tried anything with me and I’ve never even met him. We lives a little bit out of my area and we met through friends on Facebook. He’s a great guy and I trust him a lot. I still can’t relate to Baby with the friendship because I haven’t even met my closest guy-friend. We don’t talk much anymore, either unfortunately. My best friend from work is a man, but he is also gay. We tell each other everything and we have a lot of fun together. Obviously there is no room for any possibility of something happening. I know straight men and straight women can be just friends, I just have yet to experience it myself successfully. I have no problem with Baby having close female friends; I trust him completely. I think I might not be close to any straight men because of my previous experience with those relationships. I’ve only seen the dangerous side of being friends because of who my friends were, and not the innocent side. I do believe you can be just friends, but I know there is possibility for something more to occur and I just try to steer clear of that in my own life.

How was your weekend? I had s’mom things going on. Baby is 27 and has a 3 year old brother (yep, that’s right!) and Nugget (who is 4) looooves playing with him. They get along really well. He came over and I watched those two boys for a few hours on Friday. Baby made us all dinner and then retreated to our den to play his new Madden 19 I got for him as our one year anniversary present. He loves it and I’m glad he does. The little ones and I played outside for the evening. Saturday was booked tight, as well. Baby helped his parents demo their new home while Nugget and I went to my sister’s 6th birthday party. Yep, I have a really young sibling, too. She and Nugget also are very close so they had a blast bowling. The future husband and I had a wedding to attend Saturday evening so Nugget spent the night at his soon-to-be grandparents’ house! He and my sister (we’ll call her Kin) had a blast. Then, the dreaded Sunday hit. Pick-ups and drop-offs with Nugget are not consistent each week (which I struggle with because I’m very much a fan of schedules and planning far ahead of time), getting back into the third shift groove isn’t easy, and it’s usually the day that Baby and I need to do our weekly grocery shopping. It’s my toughest day because I need to find a 4-hour block that I can sleep during to prep for my first third-shift of the week. That means that it needs to be later in the day, but not directly before I go to work (because I also need to sleep as soon as I get home Monday morning). It also needs to be quiet in the house, of course. I think my body knows it’s Sunday when it rolls around because Sundays are also the days I get migraines the most. I was having a pretty hard time today, but Baby is very attentive and spoils the heck out of me in the ways I need on Sundays. He often times makes me breakfast when we get up, does the dishes, makes sure I get that long nap in, he tucks me in beforehand, makes sure it’s quiet the whole time I am sleeping, gets me up on time, has dinner ready for when I wake up, gets me meds when I need them for my head, gets me water, etc. Sundays are my least favorite but he really makes them entirely tolerable for me. I can’t thank him enough. He pays such close attention to me and I am incredibly grateful.

That felt GREAT to write. Wow. I missed this. I don’t know what I’m writing next, but stay tuned for more posts SOON! (P.S. I would super appreciate if you shared this to your Facebook page and on Tumblr or both!)

#blog #blogger #new #newblog #newblogger #write #life #live #living #loving #lifestyle #lifestyblogger #love #fun #summer #wife #model #smom #stepmom #married #marriage #writing

0 notes

selenelavellan · 7 years

Text

Era’harel

Concert AU

Some backstory that’s unlikely to come up naturally so I’m putting it out here. I actually wanted to do more bits, leading up to how Selene lost her teaching job but this seemed long enough on its own, so that’ll likely be up tomorrow.

TW for Sexual Assault, Death, Violence, Rape, and Shitty Parenting

tagging @feynites for reasons

Era'harel joins clan Ralaferin when he is still a toddler.

His name was different before then. Sweeter, like music when it rolled off of his parents tongues.

But he can't remember it, when he is found. He tries to, tries to remember the way his parents smiled at him, and held him, and how they would call for him near cobbled stones and ratted ceilings. He recalls the warmth, and the love, and the way the sunlight streamed through endless branches of a giant tree in a courtyard. But no matter how he tries, he can not recall the words, in the end.

As he grows, he doesn't think it matters anymore.

“Era'harel,” They call him, as he is taught to string a bow and clean a corpse and sit quietly for a hunt. Something to make him useful, something so he can earn his keep in the clan with no parents and no family to care for him. Some of the members are kind, and he bounces from aravel to aravel wherever room can be spared. Wherever there is a spare bit of love he can snag, or warmth he can gather and tuck away for later.

He is thirteen when he goes to his first Arlathvhen.

It is loud, and raucous and he loves it.

There are so many other elven children to run with and dance with and kiss with, and he discovers that he really, really likes kissing behind the closed flap of a tent.

Or what he thought was a closed flap, until he hears the giggling, and spies several sets of eyes peeking through the cloth like sunlight through branches.

It doesn't bother him, but the other boy blushes and giggles and runs back to the main events with a quick pardon.

He frowns, left alone again and not quite sure where he went wrong, but doesn't think anything more of it.

By the end of the Arlathvhen, he has been traded to the other boys clan, anyways.

“Alaris, First of Clan Lavellan,” he reintroduces himself, as though his tongue had not been down his throat a few days prior.

Era'harel nods, and introduces himself again as Alaris takes him on a tour of the clan site. Lavellan is more centralized than Ralaferin had been. More of its members are reliant on crops and trade than hunts and livestock.

It's nice, but it's also much, much more boring.

The hunting team is smaller, so his workload increases substantially despite it being a less necessary trade here. Hunting becomes a daily ritual, rather than a weekly one. He hates it, really. No time to do anything else, just a repetitive, monotonous list of daily tasks. Wake up too early, fletch some arrows for the following day, inspect the ones from the day before, hunt, clean the kill, eat, sleep, repeat.

Ugh.

At least his dreams are vivid. Parties and people and never having to touch another bow in his life. Visions of massive trees in courtyards, music, laughter. Freedom.

He's grateful that he's been taken in by the Dalish, really. They could have left him to die, and there's always one or two members that won't let him forget it. But he watches the ink on the faces of the other hunters, the bow permanently scrawled over the features, and feels sick at the permanence of it. At being permanently tied some predetermined role that he hates. Life is meant to be enjoyed.

No one else seems to get that.

And then the wyverns come. A small grouping wanders too close to the camp, picking off their usual prey and the hunters all have to scare them off, or hunt them down.

Arrows whiz past his ears, long dark hair blowing past his peripheral vision in the aftermath. The wyverns remain, screeching, and dart towards the group. The hunters leap, climb into the trees effortlessly, as they have done countless times before.

Era'harel stumbles, and falls back onto solid ground. Three scaled down dragons barrel towards him and he panics. He stands, and looses a fireball, managing to strike one right in the eye as it lets out an ear-splitting shriek.

The other two don't even pause, and one slams straight into his ribs before he can run, knocking him flat on his back. The other hunters call for him, and the wyvern rears its head up, teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he prepares for his death.

Several arrows thunk into it before it can tear out his throat, and the beast collapses, dead, on top of him.

Which would be less of an issue, he thinks, if they were not so heavy.

Another hunter slashes the throat of the already blinded wyvern, and the last is taken care of in short order before they are able to pull the carcass off of him. His ribs are crushed, he feels as though his entire body has been flattened out like jerky, and every step he tries to take sends another shot of pain straight through his body. The hunters that are not busy bundling up the wyverns help carry Era'harel back into the clan, and into the healers aravel. They dump him (rather roughly, if you ask him) into the empty patients hammock before leaving to finish the hunt.

Alone again, he sighs. Immediately, he wishes he hadn't as his ribs press painfully back into him with the deep breath.

“You look like hell,” comes a soft voice from behind a shelving unit full of salves and potions. “What did you do?”

“I killed a dragon.” Era'harel lies with a smug grin.

The girl doesn't seem to believe him, on any account. White hair braided down her back, a small curl wisping over her forehead as she strides towards him in traditional healers garb.

She pokes and prods and hems and haws at him, and he relaxes at the attention, until he realizes something odd.

“You look like you're my age.”

“Well, how old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Then I'd say that makes sense, since we are the same age.” she quips.

“Why haven't I seen you before?”

“I'm not always around. The last few years my time has been split between the trade routes and, well,” she gestures to the space around them “being locked away in here.”

Era'harel blinks “They let you go on the trade expeditions?”

“Mm-hm,” the girl grins “I'm good with numbers, and Keeper agrees that I need to get out of my fathers shadow from time to time.”

“Do you get to go into the cities?”

“Sure do.”

Era'harel thinks of giant trees and laughter and ratted roofs, and how much he misses these things he scarcely remembers.

“Could you take me with you?”

She blinks.

“I...don't know. We need the hunters here, for food. There's only about six of you.”

“Well there's only two healers, and they let you go.” he points out.

“That's...” she frowns. “I mean, you're right, but I don't know...”

“What don't you know?”

“You, for starters.”

Era'harel thinks that's probably fair, and gives her the best semblance of a wave and a charming smile as he can manage in his current situation, and introduces himself.

“That's a weird name.” she comments. “They named you 'demon mage'?”

“It's not like I picked it,” he gripes. “So what's your name then, Ms.-hyper-critical-of-naming-customs?”

“...Sulvuna.”

“Oh, 'alive'. That's much better.” He snickers.

Sulvuna turns red beneath the strands of her hair that have come loose in the humidity of the aravel before she pokes him harder than is necessary for her inspection in the ribs. He yelps in pain, and notes the flat 'oops' she gives him in lieu of an actual apology.

She does end up asking if he can go along on the trade routes though. She even goes so far as to lie for him, claiming that his injuries will require more recovery time before he can shoot an arrow or cast a spell correctly. Her father scoffs and derides her for it, and Era'harel pretends not to hear him calling her a disgrace, or notice that it's the first thing he's said to her in the week he's spent resting in their hammock.

Still.

She was willing to stick her neck out for him. He should do something in return, probably.

They're on the road with another elf, a slightly older one who is far taller than any elf really has the right to be with bright orange hair, (“His name's Haleir,” Sulvuna informs him from beneath rosy cheeks and eyes that are trying to act like they aren't focused on him for half their trip) who is in charge of the actual trades. Lots of exchanges made over the years, and Era'harel notices the gifts Haleir buys for Sulvuna on their trips. Nothing extravagant, some clothes and foods and most notably a smooth stone in the shape of a crescent moon that she keeps tucked away on her person, even when they are back at camp.

He also notices Haleir giving gifts to several other members of the clan, when Sulvuna isn't looking.

When they are eighteen and he and Sulvuna consider each other best friends even in the daylight, they go into town with Haleir for the umpteenth time. But their first night, Haleir sends him away. Some errand he says needs to be double checked, and Era'harel goes without question.

When he returns, he finds Haleir asleep beneath the covers of the bed, and Selene with tear streaks down her face, her dress torn and shredded and hanging off her shoulders.

He's frozen in the doorway, her gaze going right through him. Empty, hollow.

Hurt.

And then he is angry. He doesn't ask what happened, doesn't need to, doesn't want to make her say it when he's seen the looks and he's seen the signs and he still trusted them here alone together and he was wrong, he was so wrong, he should have been looking out for her, he's supposed to be her friend damn it.

Era'harel drags Haleir out of bed, slamming him to the floor and shocking him awake.

“What the fuck-” Haleir screams.

“How dare you!” Era'harel interrupts “How dare you, she trusted you, the clan trusted you and then you turn around and pull this sort of shit, you fucking monster-!”

“Era-” Sulvuna whispers, moving to stand from the bed. Haleir speaks again and she winces, immediately sitting down as he starts yelling excuses to Era'harel about how it wasn't his fault, and of course she wanted it too, she just doesn't know how to have a good time, and it's right around this time that he stops listening and smashes his fist into the side of Haleirs jaw, instead.

Sulvuna freezes, stunned, still caught trying to figure out what the best course of action might be. Haleir, clearly unused to being held accountable for his own actions, is momentarily stunned as well before he pulls back and strikes at Era'harel, who narrowly ducks out of the way and uses the momentum to slam Haleir face down onto the bed, twisting his arms painfully behind his back until he's screaming in pain instead of anger, and pleading to be let go.

“Apologize.” Era'harel grits out.

Haleir is silent, until his arm is twisted tighter behind him, and he yells once more before finally saying “Fine, fine!” he turns his head slightly, to look at Sulvuna “Sorry for giving exactly what you wanted you fuckin-”

“That is not an apology!” Era'harel roars, before kneeing him as hard as he can in the groin and slamming the taller elf back into the wall. Haleir crumples to the floor, unconscious, while Sulvuna stares uncertainly back at Era'harel.

“I...thank...thank you?” She manages, voice scratchy and raw enough to break on the higher tones.

He sighs, and pulls her tightly into his arms. Tries to emulate what he knows is supposed to be reassuring. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles into her hair. “I shouldn't have left.”

“It wasn't your fault...” She whispers back, arms awkwardly coming up to wrap back around him. “You didn't know. I didn't know. These things happen.”

“That's not- That's not true, Sulvuna. The world doesn't have to be like this. Not everyone is like him, I've slept with plenty of people, and none of them were-none of them did anything like this! You're not supposed to!”

“It doesn't matter.” she whispers back with a shake of her head “It doesn't-I don't..It doesn't matter. It happened, and nothing I do will change that. I just...can we...can we go for a walk or something? I'd really like to...to not be here, right now.”

“Yeah,” Era'harel swallows, handing her his traveling cloak. “Yeah, wherever you want to go.”

She nods, and thanks him as she dons his cloak, and they step back out into the hallway.

They end up walking all the way back to the clan, without Haleir, and without going back.

Era'harel confronts her father first. He's a healer, and he's her father, and that means he should be the one to help her here, right? You're supposed to see a doctor after stuff like this, he's pretty sure.

But it becomes clear early into the conversation, Sulvuna thankfully still outside, that Elrogathe has no desire to try to fix the situation.

“I don't see the problem.” He shrugs without even looking up from his work.

“You're shitting me, right? Haleir raped your daughter, and you 'don't see the problem'?”

“Haleir is going to be bonded to Sulvuna soon, and then she will be expected to have relations with him regularly so that they can have children and strengthen the clan.”

“And if he knocked her up already?” Era'harel manages through grit teeth.

“Then for once in her life, my daughter will be ahead of the curve.”

The nonchalance grates at him. He should care, he should love her, parents are supposed to love their children. Era'harel can not even remember his parents faces, but even he knows that. Purple flames lick at his arm, and Elrogathe finally glances up from his work table when he smells the smoke.

“Please do not set the aravel on fire. It would set me back by months on work.”

“What is wrong with you? Doesn't Sulvuna matter to you at all?! Isn't her well-being important to you?”

“Sulvuna is important to the clan. Her mother and I are both from long lines of Dalish blood, as are Haleir and his parents. I wouldn't expect a shemlen like you to understand.”

“Excuse you?”

“Do you prefer demon spawn, then? I assumed Shemlen was the polite thing to call you.”

“I am not-my parents were-”

“Your mother was a whore from the city, who ran away when your father was slaughtered by templars. Keeper Ralaferin found her standing over you, already a demon, an abomination given in to her sin entirely. Ralaferin has always been a soft clan. They slew her to save her, and took you in in the hopes that a proper upbringing could make you better. An offering of repentance to the gods, to show that even the doomed could be saved.” Elrogathe leans back in his chair, raising one eyebrow. “They were wrong, of course. We took you in, because we needed more hunters. But a demon dressed as an elf is still a demon in the end. You are still not one of us, nor will you ever be. And the next time you fall ill, do not expect me to save you. It is not worth wasting the resources anymore.”

“That's enough.” Sulvuna insists from the doorway, fists tight at her sides. “You are being needlessly cruel. Era'harel is a good person-”

“We call him demon for a reason, Sulvuna-”

“And yet his heart is kinder than yours.”

Elrogathe tsks, and returns to his work as Sulvuna snags Era'harel hand in hers and drags him out of the aravel.

“I'm sorry, for what he said.” she apologizes. “He was out of line.”

“Is it true?”

Sulvuna blinks.

“Is it true?” Era'harel repeats, more insistently.

“I...I don't know,” she admits. “I've never known him to lie, though.”

It stings. It stings, the only thing anyone has told him about his parents in years, and it's this. Slaughtered, given in to temptation. Temptation he's been eyeing himself, in dreams. Memories tainted, smiles and warmth and love all ended with blades.

His end too, probably.

Sulvuna hugs him.

She doesn't say anything, usually not one to initiate physical contact, especially given recent events, but she steps in and wraps her arms around him and pulls him into her until his head is on her shoulder and he returns the embrace.

And then he cries. He cries, and he howls for the first time in his memory as she holds him and hums old songs into his ear, and takes him to one of their more secluded spaces in the woods, one of their bottles of alcohol still hidden in the trunk of the tree.

They stay there like that until the sun begins to set. Sulvuna still stroking his back gently, soothingly.

Lovingly.

“We should leave.” She muses.

He scoffs.

“I'm serious.” she says.

He lifts his head, pulling back from her and wiping at his face as he makes eye contact.

She certainly seems serious.

“Where would we go?” He asks, warming up the the idea the more he considers it.

“Anywhere,” Sulvuna shrugs “Anywhere we wanted, that's the point. We could go somewhere no one knows us. Reinvent ourselves, start from scratch. I've got some things we could sell, and we both know how much things are worth, and we could go. We could go anywhere.”

“Let's do it.”

She nods. “Pack a bag. We'll head out in...an hour?”

Era'harel grins. “I love you.”

She snorts. “Oh, shut up.”

–

They leave that night, and travel to the nearest city to find a bus. They take the bus for a few days, until nothing is familiar anymore, until no one's heard of their clans, or anyone linked to their clans. Until Era'harel is sure he's too far for it to be where he was born.

“We should rename ourselves.” he decides over a burger and fries at a small diner. And gods, he is not going to miss having to kill something to eat meat.

“You think so?”

He nods. “We hate these names anyways. Why drag them into our new life? If we're gonna start over, let's go full balls to the wall.”

Sulvuna laughs. Light and easy, and more freely than he thinks he's ever seen her laugh back with the clan. “Ok, sure. What do you want me to call you?”

He ponders it for a moment, before the perfect name hits him, and his face splits into a grin. “Desire.”

Sulvuna almost chokes on her milkshake. “Oh, surely something more modest and subtle for someone like you would be better.” she teases.

“Nah, I like Desire. Des, in fact. Des has a nice ring to it.”

Like reclaiming the very thing they tried to condemn him for, he thinks. Fuck them. They want to keep it hidden behind closed doors, like some shameful secret? He'll wear it as a badge of pride, instead.

And besides, he knows he looks good. No one would argue it.

“What about you?” he asks.

Sulvuna ponders the question for a moment, nodding decisively and declaring “Selene. I like Selene.”

“That's like a moon thing, right?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Suits you. Hair like moonlight. People will write poetry about you.” He teases with a waggle of his eyebrows.

She laughs again. “I doubt that.”

“You never know,” Des smirks “Our future looks bright, after all.”

#Concert AU #Mind the Warnings #Alaris #Haleir #Selene lavellan #Sulvuna Lavellan #Era'harel #Des #Welcome to being a waking born elf Des here is ur tragic backstory u r welcome #The next bit isn't looking great for you either

11 notes · View notes

ninaahelvar · 7 years

Text

I got you right now (I'm holding you down)

Summary: When Claire's boss tries to set her up with her son, Claire doesn't really want to. She's too involved with her friends-with-benefits guy. Turns out...the two men have more in common than she realises.

AO3

A/N: so yeah....this happened. Thank @cometothedarkside-x

When Claire was sitting at her desk, organising some last minute details for the gala tomorrow night and the meetings with investors the next week, she heard a knock to her door. Claire called out for them to come in, still immersed in her work. Looking up, expecting to see Zara, but seeing the owner of Hammond Industries; Lucille Grady. Claire stood abruptly, the shock of seeing her boss in her office was a little startling to say the least. The amount of times Lucille had been in Claire’s office was in the single digits, so this was unexpected.

Claire straightened up her skirt and smiled brightly to Lucille. “Mrs Grady, is there something wrong?” she asked, clearing her throat and tucking hair behind her ear. Lucille scoffed, shaking her head.

“Oh, god no,” she laughed. She walked around Claire’s office, looking at how perfect and in place everything was, seemingly pleased with it all. “Are you attending the gala tomorrow night?” she asked suddenly and Claire blinked.

“Well, I do have to speak, so I would assume yes,” she shrugged.

“Thank the lord,” Lucille sighed. “You’ll finally be able to meet my son,” she cheered with a beaming smile. Claire had been told about Lucille's son for nearly two years, the pair always avoiding every date that Lucille tried to set them up. Claire had forgotten his name at this point and didn’t exactly want to date him. So many reasons made Claire come up to this

“Mrs Grady, you know I don’t -”

“You haven’t had a date in two years, Claire,” she reminded. Claire placed her hands on her desk and sighed deeply, closing her eyes.

“Why did I tell you that again?” she whispered to herself. Rising up, she put on a fake smile for Lucille. “Honestly, you don’t have to -”

“You’ll be perfect for each other, Claire. Trust me,” Lucille smiled as Claire’s phone beeped. Picking it up, she seeing the message she was sent, Claire covered her mouth before putting it down on her desk again. “Is something the matter?” Lucille asked. Claire shook her head rapidly, feeling the red burn over her cheeks.

“Oh, no. Just a friend,” she cleared her throat sitting down in her chair.

“I’ll let you get back to it. The event is tomorrow after all,” Lucille reminded, taking her leave and Claire put her head in her hands. Scrambling for her phone, Claire found the picture that O had sent her just a moment before. Far too exposing to show anyone else, but Claire was that lucky girl that got to see what he had and experience it all too. Biting at her lip, she crossed her legs and began to type back to him.

[C]: You can’t just send me pics at work

[O]: You love it. Come on, admit it

[C]: Shut up

[C]: Will send one back later

[O]: What are you wearing?

[C]: Don’t

[O]: Pretty please?

[C]: You’re the worst

Claire laughed, biting at her thumb as she considered her options. She could take a sneaky shot of herself there and send it, or sneak off to the bathroom to take something more risky. Instead, Claire fought against the ideas, knowing that teasing would be the best thing to ever happen.

[C]: You’re going to have to wait for the real thing, big guy

She smiled before setting her phone away and continuing on with her work.

And Claire was right about the teasing. It got heated the moment she stepped into his apartment. O took hold of her, stripping her out of her clothes faster than she remembered him being. He took her against the wall, his hips working with ferocity and eagerness. He was so fucking desperate for her, and she ground her hips against his just so she could feel him moan into her neck. Claire clawed at his back, ripping at his skin and begging for him to make her come.

Two years before, she had been in a similar situation when they both just wanted sex. It was a strong guy that lifted her up and fucked her until she couldn't feel her legs. He was gorgeous beyond belief, a model that was just a guy from the Navy. He had dusty blonde hair and a body of a God; Claire was astonished that she’d even managed to gain his attention.

Claire and O had fucked so hard and well that night, they agreed that it was too good to not happen again. It happened a week later before it became a weekly event, then twice weekly and eventually daily or whenever they were free. They were having sex and talking and eating dinner together in their respective apartments, watching netflix and arguing over whether to watch Stranger Things or Orange Is The New Black. Turns out O always caved for Stranger Things. Didn’t matter much, it would always lead to sex.

Now, as Claire knelt on the bed, her elbows in deep to his mattress, she threw her head back, moaning as O moved over her. He grumbled and groaned, his body falling slightly on top of hers, his chest meeting with her back. O’s hand suddenly clasped around hers. God, there were times where everything became intimate beyond repair. They wouldn’t kiss, then they broke that ride and kissed every time they were in bed. They wouldn’t talk about personal stuff, then couldn’t stop. This, this was beyond intimate. O gripped around her hand, their fingers lacing and Claire gripped into the sheets, panting hard.

“Oh, god, yes,” Claire moaned before O came around and claimed her lips with his own. His tongue danced over her lips, slipping into her mouth and their moans matching when their climaxes were getting closer. It only took a few moments longer to have Claire moaning deeply and O to grip tighter into her hand and his weight to lay harder onto her. They both panted before O kissed her shoulder and they fell apart, exhausted.

Claire took one of O’s Seahawk jerseys, placed it over her shoulders and walked into the kitchen. O followed, not far behind. He put on some loose tracksuit pants and wandered in after her. Claire went into his freezer, getting out the ice cream and moving to the drawers. She gathered up two spoons as O came around, his hand on her waist as she handed him a spoon. The pair began digging into the ice cream as Claire leaned up against the countertop.

“You’re the perfect stress relief, you know that?” Claire smirked as O shrugged.

“I get that,” he muttered, his attention way in the back of his mind. Claire tapped the centre of his forehead a few times before she smiled to him.

“What’s going on in that big head of yours, O?” she asked and he sighed.

“C, come on. No other personal stuff,” he reminded, trying to avoid this conversation, something obviously bothering him.

“O, the only thing I don’t know about you right now is your name,” she laughed, licking at her lips and laying her hand on his chest. “Spill.”

O sighed, gripping in harder to her hip, trying to keep her close. “My mom is trying to set me up with this chick from her work,” he said, a rush of red running over his cheeks. “She talks about her all the time but I can’t exactly explain this to my mom,” he said, clearing his throat.

“She doesn’t know you’ve got a fuck buddy,” Claire said, raising her eyebrow and O laughed.

“It feels weird,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Claire had doubts about it, not exactly wanting to lose O, to not have him all to herself. Yet, she knew that she couldn’t hold him for her own when she didn’t even know his name; she wasn’t allowed to call him hers when they made it to never be together. But they did, god, did they want to be together.

“Go date, O. I’m not holding you back,” Claire faked a smile before O picked her up, forcing her up onto the counter. She squeaked as he pulled her legs and his hips went in between her knees.

“Wish you would,” he smirked before leaning in for a kiss. Claire giggled as she put her arms around his neck and fell under his charms all over again.

The next day came around, Claire got ready in her apartment, changing into the elegant dress she fell in love with on the rack. A wine coloured dress, a low v-neck with two splits at the front, she knew that it would look great for the event with an exposed back and layered skirt. With hair hair braided and small sections of her hair framing her face, she was ready for her night. Claire was aiming to impress, in anyway possible. Though she was against men objectifying her, she did need them to be interested to talk more.

Claire made her way into the event, greeting everyone and making her small speech before Lucille arrived. The moment Claire saw Lucille glance over her shoulder, presumably looking for her son, Claire blotted out of sight. Hiding and talking to as many people as she could just to avoid the awkward introduction that was going to ensue. In Claire’s clutch, her phone vibrated. Checking at the message, Claire giggled, absently walking to event without thinking about anything except the messages.

[O]: God I miss how you feel underneath me. Writhing and begging for my cock. I miss how you taste. We’ve got to meet again soon

[C]: At work event. Don’t get me horny when I’ve got shit to do

[O]: I’m out and bored and I want you. Sue me

[C]: You know I will

[O]: Do it. I dare you

“Claire, I’d like to introduce you to my son, Owen,” Lucille’s voice interrupted Claire as she was beginning to type. Claire’s attention shot up to Lucille and everything in her froze when she saw O standing by Lucille’s side.

“Oh, hi,” Claire greeted, tucking her phone back in her clutch. O tucked his phone away in his pocket

“Owen,” he greeted once more, extending his hand. Claire took it and cleared her throat.

“Claire.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Lucille smiled before turning and beamed towards more investors. Claire and Owen stood awkwardly as their hands dropped.

“So,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he always did when he was uncomfortable. “You work for my mom?”

“It seems so,” she replied, licking at her top lip.

“Drink?”

“Please.”

Getting their drinks at the bar, they downed them quickly.

“How did we never -”

“We never talked about it,” Owen interrupted.

“And we never -”

“Put two and two together? No.”

“Fantastic,” Claire sighed, ordering another drink. As the drink came around, Claire had a thought and broke into a laugh, trying to contain it. Owen’s brow narrowed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I’m the girl you didn’t want to date,” she chuckled, holding her mouth as she tried to hold it in. Owen’s face broke out into surprise and began shaking his head wildly.

“Hey, I -”

“No, I’m not,” Claire laughed out loud now, her hand lying on his chest as she banged her foot on the ground. She rose, wiping the tears out of her eyes from laughter. “I’m not blaming you. How did we never see this coming?” she giggled. “Two years we failed to meet each other. And two years ago we went on a date because of a stupid app.”

“We weren’t looking for a date. We were looking to hook up,” he smiled.

“That we did,” Claire bit her lip, the sudden silence and tension that befell them was something they would relieve by now. Yet, they couldn’t do a damn thing about it now.

“So -”

Owen started before Claire stepped back. “I should go work the room. Investors and all,” she licked at her lips, trying to stop herself from getting caught up in him like she always did; no matter how hard she fought it, she was under his spell constantly.

“Hey,” Owen’s hand gripped her arm, his body stepping towards her. “When you’re leaving, are you going home alone?” he whispered. Then, Claire felt the pressure lift from her shoulders and she wasn’t afraid of this - of what they could be? She didn’t even know what it was, but the way he looked at her with people around them - he wanted her in every space, and she wasn’t going to fight him on that.

Glancing around them, making sure no one was watching her. Her fingers slipped over the edges of his belt before pulling him up to her briefly. “Keep sending me dirty texts and I can guarantee you won’t be,” she winked before letting him go and turning on her heels, moving across the room and talking to investors and guests alike. It took less than a minute for Owen to send her messages and she smiled at them.

[O]: Can’t wait to get you home and have your mouth around my cock

[O]: Have that dress wound up around your waist as I fuck you against every wall in that pristine apartment of yours

[O]: Have you panting against my neck and begging for me over and over again as you come

[C]: Stop now, I’m talking with your mother

[O]: Way to kill the mood

[C]: You’re getting laid tonight. Deal with it

[O]: Nice

Claire was discussing things with Lucille and some partners and investors when she was greeted with another text message. Slyly, Claire looked at the message.

[O]: I’m going to have so much fun being between your legs

Claire snorted, covering her mouth as she looked up to see a smirking Owen at the bar, taking another sip of his scotch. “Something funny, Ms Dearing?” Lucille asked and Claire jumped slightly.

“Sorry,” Claire cleared her throat. “My friend sent me a funny joke. It won’t happen again,” she apologised just as her phone beeped again. She smiled at the message.

[O]: Meet at mine

As the conversations died down and the event was fading to its end, Lucille caught Claire’s arm, sighing with disappointment. “That boy of mine. Didn’t even bother to say goodbye,” she said, as though she was upset for Claire’s. Claire shrugged, not exactly sure what else to say before heading to Owen’s place.

She made her way up the elevator, tucking her earrings in her clutch, unbuckling her heels and linking them together after she stepped out of them. Claire rolled her shoulders before knocking at his door. There was rushing of footsteps to the door before she saw the door swing open. Owen smiled with his suit half undone. Walking inside, Claire and Owen skirted around each other, trying to see where they would go. As Claire set her things down and Owen leaned against a wall, so Claire began to take down her hair. As the waves of hair fell, she heard a tight growl across the room.

Before she knew it, Owen was against her, his hands finding her waist like he was trained to do so. Claire’s arms went around his neck, her fingers tangling behind his back. Their lips found each other like they always did, and God did it feel right. It wasn’t as hot and desperate as they usually had been; it was passion and longing for more time. And as they held onto each other, each kiss being savoured for more time, they realised that’s what they had - time.

“Don’t make me suffer like that again,” Owen murmured as he pulled her in closer, their bodies harsh against each other.

“You’re the one making it hard to concentrate,” Claire laughed, tugging at his shirt and trying to unbutton it quickly. Owen snapped the buttons free and Claire focused on his belt.

“Debatable in that dress,” he reminded, walking backwards towards his bedroom. Claire smiled against his lips, nipping at the edge and his moan was all she needed.

“Your mom is going to think we’re dating,” Claire laughed and suddenly Owen became impatient, lifting Claire up and pushing her against the wall.

“Good,” Owen grunted, ruffling her skirt up around her hips.

“I thought we said we weren’t going to make this serious?” Claire said, though it was becoming harder to stay sane with Owen’s hips grinding into hers and his mouth trained on her neck.

“Screw that. I just want you. Only you,” Owen moaned, his fingers sneaking into her underwear. Claire’s head fell against the wall as Owen’s fingers moved past her folds and slipped inside of her. Owen growled, kissing at Claire’s neck before he seemed to become impatient with his own tactic. Letting Claire’s feet drop to the floor, and he sank down to his knees. Owen held her dress up at her hips and with one finger moved her underwear down to her ankles. With a wicked and skilled tongue, Owen moved his mouth of Claire’s clit, making her completely weak. Owen hitched her leg over his shoulder to get better access, his face burying between her legs.

Head falling back, Claire felt what Owen’s mouth was doing against her. Her brain was trying to pinpoint where he was going - to anticipate his abilities - but he would switch everything up quickly and so was caught in incoherence. Claire gripped hard into Owen’s hair, her other hand clawing at the wall. Owen was always able to have Claire buckling at her knees, and within a few moments, Claire was failing to stay upright. She called out in a blissful moan as Owen held her hips steady.

When Owen rose to his feet, Claire kissed him hard, tasting herself on his tongue. Claire pushed him past the threshold of his bedroom and finally had him falling to the bed. Claire wrenched his belt from its loops and Owen kicked off his shoes. Then, Claire let her hand roam into his pants as Owen pushed his pants and underwear down to his knees. Claire let her hand stroke over his hardened cock and kissed over his chest. Owen was completely helpless underneath her, and as he always did, combed all her hair to the right side just so he could watch her face clearly.

Kissing down Owen’s chest slowly, her hand still roaming along his shaft, Claire stopped and smirked up at him. Then, she kissed at the top of his hips, letting her tongue trace along his skin. Owen moaned, his head thrown back before looking back down at her. Claire then took him in her mouth, her head bobbing up and down in slow movements, almost agonisingly so. Owen’s hips thrust up into her mouth, and she had to push him down to keep him where she wanted him.

With heavy breaths, he was begging for more, but Claire wanted Owen more than he wanted a release. Leaving him with a puckered pop, she moved over him, hitching her dress up around her hips and reaching between her legs. Letting his tip run right across her entrance, Claire and Owen both moaned. Willingly wanting to make Owen suffer more, but her own desires won over. Sinking down onto him, Claire rolled her shoulders and started to move up and down on Owen’s lap.

Tight fingers burrowed into her hips, Owen helping her with every thrust, though his composure was somewhat lacking. With every thrust and movement, Owen was grunting harder, and without words, begging for it all. Claire quickened her pace as best as she could, but she was suffering with her own pleasure - the things she wanted more than anything was also making her body shudder and buckle.

Pushing through it, Claire rode hard on top of him, their hips working together perfectly, and it was everything they both needed. As Owen was gritting his teeth, Claire bit her lip and threw her head back. Playing with her already tender clit, she rode and stroked herself, everything becoming weak and almost incapable of continuing, but that’s all she wanted - she wanted her climax and she wanted it with him.

As everything became waves over pleasure washing over her, Claire had to still her movements, her body crumbling against Owen, his cock still blissfully filling her. Her whole body felt alive but it wasn’t enough for either of them. Claire became weak, unable to move and Owen took his chance. He leaned up, striping Claire out of her dress finally and leaving her completely bare along with him. He tossed them over, Claire panting on her back and Owen fit inside her again.

Owen’s mouth went to her breast, tracing her nipple with his tongue before he nipped and bit at her skin. Claire’s body responded, arching into him before Owen started to thrust up into her. Claire moaned, gripping into Owen’s back. They were moving together, rocking back and forth to gain as much friction as possible. They were giving each other everything - every last ounce of energy they could spare just to reach their climaxes.

Owen’s hips moved hard and fast against Claire’s, her legs adding in the force just to push him into her again and again. Their bodies never seemed to part for long, their skin getting cold and unforgiving without the other’s gracing across them. They would arch and gain the exact advantage to feel each other to their fullest. As their moans became louder and grunting became the only thing that filled the air - other than the sound of desperate skin meeting over and over again - they both knew they were nearer to their ends than ever before.

Then, they’re climaxes came flooding, Claire’s first. She moaned and whimpered, her nails raking across his back and begging to keep the feeling flowing over her entire tired body. As Owen came, she could feel him filling her, how his body stiffened and try to stay composed when he was ready for pleasure to take over him entirely. Claire stroked the back of his neck, kissing him sharply and they were left in the aftermath of it all. Owen stared down at her with wonder and admiration - like he still couldn’t believe he was this lucky.

“You okay there, babe?” Owen asked, combing hair out of her face.

“Give me ten minutes,” she panted. Owen rolled to her side, kissing her cheek.

“I’ll go get us some food,” he smiled and Claire blissfully closed her eyes.

“Hm,” she moaned, curling herself up and tucking blankets around her. Owen kissed her temple before moving out of the room to the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, Claire pulled the sheet around her chest, the long material dragging behind her as she talked into the kitchen. In all his glory, Owen walked around the kitchen naked as he prepared a midnight snack for both of them, some orange juice on the side just to keep them going. How was he always a sight to behold? Sitting up across from Owen, Claire grabbed a glass and sipped at it before Owen had a chance. Shaking his head, he kept moving and gathering a few things up.

“Did you mean what you said?” Claire asked, sipping at her drink.

“Huh?” Owen turned briefly.

“About actually dating?” Claire shrugged. Owen shrugged back.

“If you want to keep it casual, we can,” Owen left it to her.

“No. I just,” Claire sighed, tucking her messy hair behind her ear. “Do you want to go on a proper date for once?” she asked, a touch of hope in her words.

“Seriously? You want to start dating?” he asked, stopping for a moment before moving around the island bench slowly.

“I mean, I’ve wanted to, but we always end up back at one of our places anyway,” Claire explained before Owen took hold of the sheet and pulled on it until he was practically right on top of her. She laughed.

“Tomorrow. Lunch. You and me,” he told her, making it their second date, but the first one where it’ll go somewhere serious.

“Can we just sleep now? I have work tomorrow,” Claire huffed and Owen scoffed, his forehead resting against hers.

“I’ll let you have first shower,” he replied, kissing her nose.

“Good,” she said as her nose wrinkled and Owen slid over some food to her. Claire took a few bites before they both headed back to bed and fell asleep in a warm and loving embrace.

At work, Claire hadn’t exactly been that happy before and it was drawing her attention. It was probably one of her most productive days and people were getting suspicious. She mainly just wanted to get everything done so her date was uninterrupted.

“So, Claire. Did you and Owen talk?” Lucille asked and Claire nodded, crossing her legs and sorting all the other work that she needed to do after lunch.

“Yeah. I quite liked him,” Claire commented, pushing all her completed work to a corner of her desk and Zara came in to collect it, like she had done a few other times that morning.

“I’m so sorry he didn’t end up staying the entire night,” Lucille apologised. “I wasn’t even able to reach him,” she groaned and Claire hid the fact that she was smiling.

“It’s alright, honestly. He’ll just have to make it up to me,” Claire

“I will make sure of -”

“Mom?” Owen’s voice said at the door and both women stood, not quite expecting this to be the situation they saw themselves in.

“What are you doing here, sweetie?” Lucille asked and Owen immediately broke out into a blush.

“Well, I just -”

“Did Richard tell you I came down?” Lucille interrupted his stuttering.

“Well, no, I was actually -”

Then, it all seemed to click for Lucille. “Oh goodness!” she exclaimed and Claire hid her face in her hand. “You really did have a good talk last night,”

“Oh, god,” Claire groaned.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Lucille left with a proud look on her face. Owen let his mother move past him and walked into Claire’s office, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I know we said we didn’t care if your mother knew, but that was so embarrassing,” Claire said and Owen huffed.

“Agreed,” he grinned. “Can we slip out for lunch too? I’m starving,” he asked and Claire gathered up her purse.

“I’m worried what you think you’re having for lunch,” she smirked to herself.

“A burger,” he scoffed, then, Claire felt Owen tug on her waist, his face moving to the crook of her neck. “but for dinner, I’ve got you in mind,” he whispered and nipped at her collar. Claire giggled and turned around.

“Shut up,” she muttered, capturing his lips and letting her arms grace over his shoulders. And no matter how much Claire tried to fight it before, this moment with Owen was always what she wanted - to have him confidently and unconditionally wanting her….maybe even loving her. She couldn’t wait to see what it all was, if her heart would ever feel lighter than in that moment. It would.

#my fics #clawen #claire x owen #owen x claire #claire dearing #owen grady #clawen fics #jurassic world

30 notes · View notes

uwu-ouo · 7 years

Text

Vent; feel free to ignore

Okay this is just a vent about most of what I'm dealing with. Some things may be hinted at but won't be stated simply for my privacy. Some things I will go into detail about and some I won't. If I don't expand on something please don't ask me about it. Okay now for the rant: I have a lot of things that I'm working on, and since I'm not able to accomplish any of those things rn I'm preparing as much as I can for them. I have, among other things, adhd (so does Kevin), so we forget stuff a lot. It doesn't help that I have seizures which pretty much wipes my memory. So pretty much I keep on top of things I have to remember by notes and lists. Mainly lists. So. Many. Lists. One of the things I'm preparing for is an online witchy shop. I know, there are thousands of them, but mine is going to be a bit different, focusing around homegrown herbs and other things that involve herbs. But I don't have a whole lot of experience with plants, and have no experience in growing them from seeds (except 4th grade where we grew grape tomatoes in the classroom but that hardly counts), so I have a list of supplies, list of herbs to grow, I messed up my grimoire so now I need whiteout so I have all the shit I gotta fix in a list there, an entire document (like 3 pages on word) of shit I need to know about indoor gardening, lists of things Kevin and I need just generally, apartment listings, a list of things Kevin's car needs, list of things we need to get done, and we plan to start a daily blog YouTube channel, so a list of things we need for that (long list). And aside from lists Kevin and I both plan to edit our future videos but neither of us really know how to do so, so we're gonna have to learn Aka teach ourselves, my best friend/little sister is gonna move in with us when we get a place and like a little sister I love her but dear god is she a lot to handle, Kevin still needs a job and everything else is on hold until that happens, I'm still fighting to get food stamps, I can't get Healthcare, and until I get Healthcare or at least get my health to a point of functionality, I can't start my business, polyamory is complicated and so are anatomical matters currently, my dysphoria is horrendous recently, my mental health is crashing HARD, there's drama with one of my biological sisters so she's back out of my life, my dad is (tentatively) back in my life with his innocence, my mother has become... Indifferent about my life again, Kevin's family is a bunch of abelist people so that's hurtful and frustrating and he's been advised to drop me for somebody healthier (he didn't even consider it but I mean I AM still a person not just a toy to be thrown away when I break), I can't work so I feel useless a lot which doesn't help my mental health, we're trying to get all our shit together so we can try to make a life for ourselves, since Kevin and I are both stressed we can get at each other's throats sometimes (we work it out eventually but getting to that point is hard), with the lack of Internet and phone service I can't talk to Nick (my boyfriend) much and can see him even less often so that relationship is rough rn but neither of us want to break up, my anorexia is affecting me again, I can't write anymore and honestly don't think I ever will be able to again, music isn't helping me anymore, and I'm pretty much isolated from everyone besides Kevin on an almost weekly basis so my mental state is declining even faster because of that but between gas, my physical health, and my mental health I can barely go on the front porch much less actually go anywhere. Things that to some will seem less important but are important to me: I'm really behind on almost all my shows and YouTube channels which is frustrating because watching those helps me relax (at least it used to. Nothing helps me relax recently.) My library ebooks are all getting close to being due and become unavailable at their due date even if I'm offline, so I have 10 days to read 8 books, all of which are at least 300 pages and I can't read that much when I'm having a bad health day so it's harder than I would like to admit, so I don't have as ready an escape into their pages as I mentally need. I have like 3 shirts, one pair of jeans, one pair of shorts, one bra, and some pajama pants or sweatpants, one pair of sneakers from the dollar store, and two sweaters. The few times I do actually go out and socialize, I very quickly run out of clothes, even if I wear them for a week (or weeks) at a time, but in the grand scheme of things I can't make myself feel important enough to go shopping even when we do have the means to, so I have a distinct lack of clothes. My hair is getting longer, this is bad for many reasons; not only is it thick and curly, which makes it time consuming and painful to detangle so it stays fucking nappy for weeks on end, but my long hair feels distinctly feminine to me and I hate it. It's down to my shoulder when I want it pretty much shaved completely, so it's not even a style I like but my platonic soul mate is too busy to do my hair, even though she has all the stuff she needs to do it. So I'm dysphoric and unable to take care of it, and that makes me feel even worse about myself and my gender identity. I've completed all but 3 games we have that I'm interested in, but my hands have been hurting too much to play on the 3ds so I can't even finish the 2 I've started (the third is kingdom hearts 2.8 so I would have to wait for the new releases). I'm so overwhelmed I'm constantly on the verge of a breakdown and all my problems feel like they stem from me, even when things are very obviously not my fault.

#seizure mention #Anorexia mention #Long post #Vent

1 note · View note

nobuckingway · 7 years

Text

Us girls here at No Bucking Way have been through our fair share of confidence ups & downs. Having young horses really makes you take a step back from time to time and makes you think is this really worth it? Should I be putting myself at such risk day in, day out?

There are so many different types of horses with many different personalities, you may come across a horse that is an angel to ride but a nightmare in the stable or vise versa. but unfortunately you dont figure all this out until a few months in!

So we thought we would put together some tips we have learned from the ground and from the saddle to give you all some sort of guideline as to how we cope with our daily routines. We planned on doing a joint blog post about this topic, but as we started to note things down, the more info we had, so we will be doing confidence blog post based on Dante & Coco with what both of us have learned along the way!

Up first we Have Dante…. Have a read below, & be sure to let us know what you do on the daily to gain that confidence of your off days!

How to cope with a Rearing Nightttmare

For the love of god everyone, GET A NECK STRAP! I stupidly only got one 4 months ago, when in reality from the day I bought Dante I should of had one. Rearing was his way out of things, it was his go to tantrum so I have sat my fair few share. I wont lie, they are petrifying. Especially when you have a gigantic horse underneath you, one that has zero balance at that too. The first few months of owning Dante, this issue held me back a lot, it scared the shit out of me.

But the determination in me & with such stubbornness I had one choice, and that was to learn how to resolve the situation, so with that below are my three tips for dealing with a ‘Rearer’

Give the contact and push forward. Once you keep those hind legs moving your horse will find it harder to go up, therefore impossible to rear.

Pulling on the mouth is a major NO go, this will only encourage them to fight against you and continue to go up.

Remaining calm, and as balanced as you can really is all you can do. Remember if your horse can sense uncertainty especially a young horse they will thrive off it.

Unfortunately rearing can shake the nerves out of most people, luckily enough for me I was too determined and some may say stupid so I sat out a few bad ones, Orla did take the blunt of it one day, how she lived to tell the tale is beyond me. To this day I don’t think either of us will ever forget the day Orla rode Dante for the first time, lets just say it took a few months for her to get back up on him again & I wouldn’t blame her, I was half afraid to ride him at times!

But Now, I have learned to avoid these situations. If Dante is having an off day the best thing for me to do is as much work possible without getting a rise from him. Looking for an argument with him is a massive no go zone, he will certainly try his best to give you one so avoiding it is best! Not giving Dante a rise is simply, VITAL!! Once he knows he is getting a reaction or an argument with you he thrives off it, so now when he tries, I simply ignore him or change the exercise I am doing constantly letting him now I am there by patting him on the neck and he relaxes back to his normal self.

I would recommend doing lessons with an instructor, having someone on the ground with you if your horse continues to rear. Checking teeth, saddle issues & their back also, and if your problem persists beyond this have a trained professional who specialises in working with young horses to sit up on your horse. Bold behaviour in youngsters is sometimes all it is and nipping it in the bud at its earliest convenience is the best way to go.

As for your own confidence, I will admit, it does take quite the hit. Staying relaxed and calm really is all you can do. If you are unsure of things, or if your horse is persistent in going up dont put yourself in a dangerous position, cut your riding session short and dismount. The last thing you want to do is injure yourself.

Building Confidence on a Hack or in an open field

Working in the field can go one of two ways. Dante was so used to doing arena work, that he used to get so excited going out into the field! It scared the shit out of me to begin with. but as we began working out there more the better it got.

At the beginning, he became quite nappy towards any other horses that were out riding with him, for instance if the horse moved or trotted in a different direction to Dante, he would begin to nap towards them by bunny hopping/rearing in their direction. It was a pain in the ass, and at times it was the safest option for me to just let him run with the other horse, as I have explained fighting with Dante is not ideal. All of This of course was not something I wanted him to do. As I continued to do work in the field, I took everything back to basics, starting of by taking things slow.

Tip: Don’t set your first work out in the field or hack to be a 2 hour trail ride up a mountain with a tone of obstacles in the way. Remember, if you have a young horse all these adventures & new places are huge to them. Taking them places outside their comfort zone is like throwing someone who cant swim into the sea and just expecting them to swim!

Starting things of slowly, I began by ending my arena sessions with a 5-10 minute relaxed walk around the field (or as relaxed as I could make it). If your horse hasn’t done much field work, start by walking one lap of the field letting them take everything in, let your horse look around ,getting them to relax is vital. The aim is for them to gain trust in you guiding them around new places, not to become afraid of the experience.

And remember … REWARD REWARD REWARD!!

Let your horse know they are doing good, talk to them, pat them on the neck, most importantly don’t over do them. I will admit I have done this and it is a pain trying to reverse! Knowing your horse and their limit is huge in these situations.

To gain a bit more confidence in the field, I done a few lessons in the field with my instructor to begin with, luckily for myself the field I school Dante in has a number of XC fences, so it was perfect for a lesson.

Now, a few months down the line my confidence is beaming. This did take a lot of time as jumping XC fences was a no go zone for me, as for Dante it was something he had zero problems doing until my lack of confidence started to rub off on him. Working on my confidence to get us both on level took some work!

I will say though, take things slow my biggest fear out in the field was all the open space and the fear of not having any control. The more Dante & I worked together gaining each others trust, and then translating it into things together was huge! Slow & steady wins the race, that’s my go to motto these days!!

Falling ….

Anyone who has heard of me or Dante, actually let me rephrase, anyone who had seen me ride Dante from last October until June of this year would know that I pretty much had a fall from him on a weekly basis. Not something I am proud of, but something I am very surprised I walked away from un-harmed.

He was a very difficult horse to deal with at the beginning, there were times where I purposely fell off him (Drop & Roll technique) to save myself serious injury. He went through so many phases of barging around the arena uncontrollably, to simply being such a baby that had no co-ordination or balance that got us in a lot of trouble. We eventually had to re-break him he got so bad.

But instead of boring you with I do this, and Dante works well like that I am going to give you some pointers/ advice on what I do & how I get my confidence back together after a fall.

Remain Calm.

Take a breather, get your breathing back to normal before you start anything, sit on the mounting block for 5 minutes in the arena if you must.

Before mounting up again after a fall, identify the reason for the fall, bold behaviour, a spook or simply your horse just not understanding what you want them to do, then assess if it is worth the risk to get back up on your horse. I used to bring Dante into the lunge arena if I felt unsafe to get back on him after a bad fall. This way you leave your session on a semi – good note rather than ending things drastically.

Check your horse before you decide to get back up, incase they caused themselves any injuries.

Don’t jump back into what you were doing that caused the fall in the first place, take things slow

If your falling is consistent, recruit an instructor. Work with your trainer to solve your issues rather than trying to do it yourself which more than likely caused the fall to begin with, eyes on the ground are a massive plus to anyone riding a horse.

To summarise on everything, you know your horse best. If you don’t feel safe riding your horse I would recommend you start looking elsewhere. As horrible as that sounds, don’t put yourself at risk of any serious injury. I closely came to that decision I wont lie, but I stuck it out which wasn’t always a good idea.

Riding your horse should be fun, it should make you happy, not afraid every time you sit in the saddle. Incorporating fun into your riding will only avoid your horse turning sour or resentful towards proper work. Young horses do need their training days, but they also need their fun relaxing days where you bring them out of the arena to new places, to do work in a field or a simple walk down the road, something to clear their minds.

To be a confident rider, something I am still learning to be, you need skill but you also need to be positive. This does not come over night, it comes with time and patience. So my advice, Focus on enjoying your horse, stop focusing on the competition results, stop critising a bad rising session, stop striving for perfection. That will all come with time.

Remember you have a young horse or you may have an older green horse & they more than likely rely on you for guidance for everything, when you are both relaxed & enjoying experiences together the better your bond forms, and the more willing you will both be to do things & learn together. Gaining trust in your horse for me if vital and to be honest a year into owning Dante and its only now we are both beginning to trust each other.

So believe me when I say these things take time!

#NeighNSlay

Darielle

#confidence #blogger #solutions #Tips & Tricks #training

0 notes