#I will have to be a slave to this house's mental wellbeing

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 37

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Time runs out.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Heavy angst, whump, grief

AO3

Acceptance finally came, but brought with it no relief.

The hours ticked by, each one stealing another moment less you had with Bucky. It was like waiting on death row, but there would be no stay of execution. You were really going to lose him.

That thought was almost as terrifying as the reality that you would be cut off from him. You’d gotten so used to the bond you didn’t know what life would be like without it. Worst of all, you had no guarantee you’d feel the same about Bucky after the link was severed.

Would you still feel the same way about him? Would you still love him? And if you didn’t, was it even love in the first place?

No clock, not even the magical ones that surely existed in this placed, granted you mercy and slowed their procession. All you could do was hold onto Bucky, stroke his demonic arm and his wings, touch him and kiss him and remind yourself he was still here, right here, and he wasn’t gone yet.

As much as you wanted otherwise, you kept your clothes on and kept the touching innocent, even if your kisses grew more heated and desperate. He didn’t want to go, you realized from how tightly he clung to you in return. He didn’t want to leave you in the slightest. You didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

The sun rose and neither of you bothered to get out of bed. You had nowhere else you wanted to be. Monster had dry food that would last him for days, along with a pet drinking fountain. Your mom would start to worry from your lack of texts, but she’d survive. You weren’t so sure about yourself.

When Bucky spoke, his voice was hoarse from disuse, and you were half-asleep curled in his arms.

“I’m giving you the keys to my place.”

You blinked open your eyes, frowning and wondering if you’d heard right.

“What?”

“I want you to stay there.” He brushed his thumb across the side of your jaw, lips touching your hair. “I know it’s a big place, but at least you won’t have to pay rent. It’s a good location, great view, and you’ll be safe. Strange has anti-dark magic wards all over the place. Apparently, it keeps beings with ill-intent from being able to step over the threshold. I’m sure your little monster will love it.”

He spoke your name in a soft question when his words were met with silence. You shook your head and gripped his jacket tightly again. Why did he have to make this so difficult by being so damn perfect?

“I’m just…” You sniffed and swallowed. “I’m just going to house-sit for you until… until Strange finds a better solution.”

Bucky said your name again.

“And then you’ll be back and everything will be, will be the same. Waiting for you. Because you’re coming back.” You fought to control the quivering of your voice, made no easier by his gentle touches. “I have to believe that, Bucky. I have to have hope, or I can’t… I can’t make it through this.”

“You will,” he reassured you with a squeeze. “You’re so damn strong and you’re going to be fine, no matter what happens.”

You were quiet for a moment, and eventually asked in a small voice, “What am I going to tell Mom?”

Bucky didn’t have an answer. It was probably for the best, because your heart was breaking all over again, and you cried into his arms until you didn’t have any tears left to shed.

It was noon before the two of you got out of bed. You hadn’t slept at all except for a moment or two of light dozing. Bucky insisted you eat something. A tray of food had appeared, you didn’t know from where, and you managed to stomach some crackers and pieces of fruit. You did it more to ease Bucky’s worries and to get him to eat too.

Before the appointed hour of doom, you sought out Strange for that stay-of-execution yourself. You pled with Wong to grant you an audience with Strange, and when he prepared to shoot you down, you said, “I spoke to the Ancient One.”

It was all you had to say. You’d expected Wong to treat you like you were delusional, but his expression grew serious as he looked between you and Bucky, and finally said, “Come with me. Now. Not you, Barnes. Just her.”

Bucky grimaced, but you gave him a weak smile.

“Back before you know it.”

He eyed your smile doubtfully; Bucky knew the reason you wanted to speak to Strange, but that wasn’t going to deter you from doing everything in your power to change their minds.

You told Strange everything about the memory. About witnessing the Winter Soldier’s death, about joining and interacting with him in the memory of the demon realm, and finally, of passively watching everything that came after. Only when the Ancient One had noticed your presence that you could finally distinguish between your consciousness and Bucky’s.

Your hope was that Strange would see just how intertwined you and Bucky were, and that freezing Bucky was a cruel idea.

Unfortunately, he seemed to come to the opposite conclusion.

“Sergeant Barnes should have come to me as soon as he broke his oath,” Strange said, fingers steepled from where he sat behind his desk. “He could have easily killed you, or worse, caused you to lose yourself. It’s apparent this bond goes far deeper than it should, and it is a danger to your wellbeing.”

“But,” you stammered, digging your fingers into the hem of your sweater, “the Ancient One helped Bucky. She trusted him. She knew he wasn’t—“

“Dangerous?” Strange interrupted, brow raised. “Of course she did. It was why she made the bargain to begin with: freedom without feeding. The cryo-chamber is not a punishment; Barnes cannot deny his nature any more than a shark sensing blood in the water. He’s driven by deep instinctual urges that he can’t control, not while he’s bonded to you. If he were a free demon, that would be one thing. The formula would work and he could live without feeding, or if you both decided, the feeding could be consensual. But since this pact was formed, even unintentionally, the bond between you is irresistible and deadly.”

Strange rose to his feet, rearranging his cape.

“This is for his sake as much as it’s for yours.”

“And what if you’re wrong!” you cried, panic clawing at your throat. “What if the Ancient One was talking about this moment when she said I had to make a choice! A choice that would affect us both!”

Strange shook his head as he rounded his desk to face you.

“Whatever she saw, whatever her reasons for giving you that bit of advice? It doesn’t apply to this moment simply because you wish it to. And besides, she said it would be your choice. The decision to put Barnes into stasis is mine, not yours. You have no control in this matter, so I doubt that’s what she was referring to.”

“But—“ You tried again, but he raised a hand and you fell silent. His expression was not unkind, and that was perhaps the worst thing of all. He really did believe he was helping you and Bucky.

“We will, of course, look for unexplored avenues of binding magic. There’s no guarantee we will find an answer, and if we do, it could take years. You should prepare yourself for the possibility that this is the best we can do.” Strange met your eye and his face softened. “I truly am sorry.”

That was it, then. There was no hope. You were numb again when you returned to Bucky. He wasn’t alone.

“Hi.”

One of the most recognizable and famous people on the planet extended his hand to shake yours. Old-fashioned manners died hard, you supposed.

“I’m Steve,” he said, his smile reserved but charming.

It was a true testament to your mental state that you didn’t even blink. Shaking hands with Captain America did very little to break you out of your numb distress.

“I’m sorry you two have to meet like this,” Bucky said, shuffling slightly on his feet. “You both deserve better.”

“Don’t worry about it, Buck.” The tall, blond man clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m just glad you reached out to me. I wished we had more time to talk, to catch up, but… it’s more than I had before.”

It seemed Steve Rogers had gotten used to living in the future; he was wearing fairly ordinary jeans, boots, and a riding jacket. He looked even more gallant and heroic than in the videos.

And still, you stared at him with all the personality of a rock. Bucky noticed.

“Hey, Steve. Give us a minute, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Rogers gave you a small, almost shy smile before ducking out of the room. Even through your numbness, you could acknowledge how weird this was. Bucky contacting his best-friend-slash-previous-boyfriend so that he could check in on his current-girlfriend-slash-human-slave while he was put in a fridge.

It would have been really funny if not for the horrifying fact you only had two hours left.

Bucky was about to speak, but whatever it was died on his lips as you launched forward and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in his shoulder.

He returned the gesture, lightly rubbing your back.

“I appreciate you trying, sweetheart, but… this is for the best.”

“It’s not,” you said, sniffling into his jacket. “It’s a mistake, and I’m the only one who sees it.”

Bucky said nothing but he did continue to stroke your back. Maybe there was some part of him that agreed with you, that didn’t want to leave.

When you asked him that very question, Bucky pulled back and said, “Of course I don’t want to leave.”

You bit your lip to keep from barking out then don’t! Instead, you said, “Will you stay with me until…”

“Yeah,” he said, quiet. “Yeah, of course.”

Bucky left for only a few minutes to talk to Rogers, telling him what you had no idea, and then he returned to find you moping on the couch. He picked you up and sat down, sitting you in his lap and wrapping his arms tight around you. Resting your head on his shoulder, you curled up in his limbs as much as possible, happy when he dropped his guise. He’d kept it up when Steve had been present. You could guess why, and it made your heart ache to know Bucky still had so much shame over what he was.

It was silent between you; there wasn’t anything left to say that couldn’t be expressed in the small, desperate, meaningful touches. Two hours had never gone by so quickly.

Bucky led you through the hallways, and the warm, ruddy decorations had never felt so cold and distant. Rogers was waiting outside a closed door, one that looked vaguely familiar. And it should. This was the room where Davin had been freed of the heigore.

The stone altar was gone, and in its place, a massive sarcophagus-like object. It stood open, tendrils of fog curling from its glowing interior as Strange, Wong, and several other sorcerers stood around it.

You wanted to grab Bucky and drag him out of there, away from such an evil-looking instrument. They were going to put him in that thing? It looked like a stone coffin, or an Iron Maiden, or any number of torture devices.

But you didn’t do any of those things. This was hard enough for Bucky, unimaginably so, and you weren’t going to make it more difficult by causing a scene.

Instead, you squeezed his hand and clung to his outstretched fingers until the two sorcerers that now reminded you of prison guards led him away to the thing that would trap him inside.

You hadn’t even said goodbye. You’d thought your actions over the past few hours had been enough to convey what you felt, but what if it wasn’t? What if Bucky was frozen without ever knowing what he meant to you?

You took a step forward, but a large hand clamped down on your shoulder. It wasn’t harsh but it was firm, and it pulled you back a step. You glared over your shoulder, and Rogers gave you a pitying look.

You almost shook him off, suddenly angry at the Avenger, but you let the hand stay where it was, turning back to Bucky with your heart in your throat. He was turned around now, facing you as the sorcerers helped him step back into the shadow of the chamber. He hadn’t had a choice about keeping his guise down today, and his wings were tucked into the shell on his back as his tail wrapped tightly around his leg.

The heavy iron door closed with a finality that stopped your heart. Pneumatic hisses and an intensified humming filled the room.

You could see Bucky’s face through the oval window of the door. White fog blew from his mouth, steaming up the glass, but it didn’t cover up the fact he was scared. It was in the widening of his eyes and the quick pace of his breathing. Too fast and shallow.

You tried to take another step forward, but Rogers wouldn’t let you. You wanted to jerk away, scream at him to do something! That was his best friend in there and Rogers was an Avenger, for fuck’s sake! Couldn’t he stop this?!

But Rogers only stared at the iron coffin that held Bucky, his expression pained, even if he did hide it well behind a stern mask.

Strange stepped forward, expression equally somber. He drew his palm in a circle in the air, and a series of concentric glowing circles appeared on the side of the chamber. He tapped them with his fingers, almost as if he were working a machine panel.

All at once, the window went almost completely opaque as it was covered with ice, and at the same moment, agony shot through your chest like a freezing steel blade.

Doubling over, unable to draw air, you would have collapsed if not for Roger’s arms around your waist. The sound escaping you didn’t sound human. It was a wounded animal, dying in agony.

Your veins were fire and your lungs filled with ice. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, someone was squeezing your heart in their fist, and with a vicious wrench, tore it out.

Even as Rogers pulled you back out of the room, as the sorcerers surged forward with concerned expressions, you clawed weakly at the air, reaching out for the machine where your heart was contained, and was forced to leave it behind.

Next Chapter

#branded #demon!bucky barnes #demon!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #i'm writing each of you an apology letter as we speak

[kat-hawke]

Kul Tiran Backing

A puddle broke beneath the soles of the Director's boots as she journeyed through the rain across the city of Boralus. Eyes swept across open streets from beneath the hood of the long coat, drops of water cascading off to the sides. The amount of rainfall here stirred up memories of her Gilnean childhood for only a minute before she shifted focus to the upcoming meeting.

"I don't think I've ever seen you nervous," Alyssa chimed across the telepathic link. "Anxious, sure. But nervous—"

"Are you making a point here, or?" Kat interrupted.

"No. Just curious. Why does she make you nervous and not anyone else?"

"It's not her. It's the topic at hand. Doing this puts an unnecessary risk on other financial ventures and our relation, should she decline. Yet, I'm left with little other options to seek funding." Kat admitted as the office came into view across the plaza.

"There's also the matter of what I plan to do. Pad her funding line with my own coin to avoid potential investigations into my financials. She won't like it, I know. To keep that behind her back creates more risk while revealing the matter could turn her away."

"Well, if she doesn't need to know, then why risk it? What she doesn't know won't hurt her." The dagger-bound woman practically shrugged in her tone.

"It could hurt us both. I'll consider your point," Kat sneered.

Drowning out the warlocks reply, she swung the office door open, the bell above the frame emitting the soft chime throughout the space, announcing Kat's arrival to the noblewoman seated at the desk. Pulling back the soaked hood with a smile, the pair commenced with the standard pleasantries. An informal greeting, inquiring on one another's state of wellbeing, and a brief catch-up of the recent Scourge invasion.

"My family is all well and safe, and Stormhollow did not suffer the Scourge. I would consider things well and good." Lady Stalsworth answered as she eased back into the seat, following their courteous handshake.

"Glad t'hear," Kat nodded, swinging one knee over the other as she dropped into the adjacent chair. "Gransonee was spared from the dead risin' again as well. So, no effect on our current arrangements as it stands." She paused for a moment. "Unless, of course, ya' wish fer changes?"

"Unless there are reasons why I should wish for changes, I see no need. Do you?"

The Director shook her head slowly. "None wot-so-eva. Th' profit flows, th' people are happy, and the hamlet has been able t'repair and expand some infrastructure. Most importantly, it keeps Jasper out of m'ear."

Elaianna chuckled in a breath, a faint smile touching the corner of her lips. "You did not write to me about our current business affairs, but rather, a new one if I am to understand your letter correctly?"

The pleasantries were dismissed. Both women preferred to discuss business over the former at every meeting.

"That is correct, yes. While this proposal is of another nature, it bears no effect on the current trade agreemen'." Kat cleared her throat, ignoring a comment from Alyssa as she pulled a ledger from the coat. "I'm sure yer aware of th' current state of the Kingdom, yes?"

"Presuming you mean things such as the King's absence and an ill-chosen replacement on the throne in the meantime? Yes. I cannot say things are any better here, as the Lord Admiral has also gone missing."

"I was referin' more t'the current economic situations." The Director clarified, collecting her hands upon the leather cover of the ledger.

"Aye," the Lady dipped her head in a shallow nod. "Such things come with recent events."

"More-so when on th' tailwinds of a long and costly war," Kat added. "Stormwind is, well t'be blunt, fractured. Th' military cutbacks, coffers empty...surely ya' know wot follows there. Taxes and overexertion. Th' nobles houses are all in a tiff, vyin' fer favors and agreements in exchange fer gold. Sharks, th' lot of 'em."

"I am an affluent woman, but I cannot cease an entire kingdom from going into taxation," Elaianna remarked, weaving her fingers together and studying the Director. "So what favor and agreement are you looking for?"

Kat quickly wet her lips, knowing her discomfort in this proposal was visible to a small degree, and while the dagger-bound woman was silent, Kat knew she was listening. Without further delay, she promptly opened the ledger to her Unit's budget and slid it across to Elaianna.

"I do no' have th' time or patience t'lobby the houses while they are in congress fer fundin', nor would I likely care for th' things they ask in exchange. My Unit is internal affairs, we are no' combat facin', but many believe wot we do is of little value."

"What -do- you do? Especially in times post-war?" Lady Stalsworth inquired, glancing over the ledger.

"Th' same as we would durin' war. We handle issues that extend beyond th' capabilities of the guards; serial killin's, drug cartels, slave rings, th' occasional cults." Kat picked at her nails in her lap, out of the other's view.

"Our latest project has no' been well received by m'peers, and I narrowly dodged havin' the Unit axed with my proposal. With the right resources and time, we could document and categorize these dangerous people's thought processes and mental states. Study them, if you will, and create a possible method t'detect these behaviors before they manifest into somethin' larger. However, with no fundin' or resources, I canno' produce the results needed to keep my Unit from disbandment."

"And you're looking for..." Elaianna asked as she found no estimated total within the ledger.

"Wot eva yer willin' t'give." Kat answered plainly. "I hate t'even ask at all, given our current professional relationship. And I certainly do no' expect charity either."

The Lady nodded again, motioning toward the Director. "Would monthly increments be of use, or were you hoping for a singular lump sum?

"Monthly would be ideal, luv'. A lump sum may create too much of a surplus that others may try to pillage."

"I can commit to supporting your Unit on a monthly basis." Elaianna pushed the ledger back across the desk with her answer.

Inquisitively, Kat stared and collected the ledger, returning the book to her coat as she hesitantly asked, "And in return?"

With a simple shrug, the Lady answered, "I would ask what I would hope you would already do. If you happen upon any knowledge of a threat to Stormhollow or my family, you will let me know so that we might protect our people and ourselves."

A soft hum rattled with Kat's throat. This was something she would have done already, yes. But while Elaianna had never given her a reason to be mistrusted, Kat struggled to believe one would ask only this in return for funding. A thought that Alyssa did little to dismiss.

"That I would already do, yes. Though I will add that if ya' have an issue within Stormhollow that falls within wot m' Unit handles, I would be more than happy t'direct focus there until the matter is resolved."

"Thank you."

Kat lifted her hand, "it is I who owes ya' thanks, twice over."

"Then let us call it a deal." Elaianna smiled, extending her hand over the desk to cement the agreement.

Now at the crossroad of revealing or secreting her intend, Kat's conflicting thoughts churned again as she eyed the offered hand. Forcing her way through, she began to reach but recoiled at the last second.

"Don't do it," Alyssa argued to no avail.

"There is one more thing," Kat muttered, clearing her throat.

"I will pull funds from my personal accounts, those undocumented linked to Gransonee. Doin' so on m'own would draw attention and force m'hand into revealin' th' island and hamlet publicly, which would then force a pledge to the Alliance or vassalage t' a noble house. Against the wishes of its people. I will hide th' funds I sent in the same ledger line as yer own." The Director admitted, letting out a heavy breath as if a weight had been lifted.

"I wanted ya' t'know, rather than keep it hidden from ya' and risk an auditory blowback."

Immediately, Elaianna's lips pursed, and a low hum vibrated behind the displeased expression as the offered hand was withdrawn. The silence which followed lingered uncomfortably between them for a solid minute as Kat held her breath and avoided the Lady's gaze.

"I suspect such will not pose a problem," Elaianna finally spoke, "as it is assisting the Kingdom."

Kat's shoulders dropped as she relaxed and let out her breath.

"I wanted t'be honest and transparent in m'intentions than lead ya' blind and risk everythin'."

"I appreciate that," The Lady smiled faintly. "Thank you."

"Th' consequences will be mine, and only mine t'bear should anythin' happen." Kat offered her hand to complete the transaction with a nod, relieved when Elaianna nodded and took the hand in a firm shake.

"Let us hope such things do not come to be."

Standing to exit, Kat fixed the position of her coat, which had shifted slightly while seated. The hood remained down, as the sound of rainfall beyond the door had ceased during their exchange.

"Light and Shadow keep ya' and yer family, Lady Stalsworth."

"Tides guide you and yours, Lady Hawke."

Resisting the urge to correct and discourage using such a title, Kat resigned to dipping her head and turning towards the door. Quickly leaving the office and taking in the scent of the city after the rain. She knew Alyssa overheard every word and would likely inquire on details but cut the inquisitive warlock off before she had a chance.

"Another time," Kat implored, "I promise. Just give me time."

[ @elaianna, @alyssa-ward​ ]

[ Relevant: @tristanasneak, @jocelyn-wellson, @myzariel, @nikkithorpe, @lovelydeadlysocialite, @quinn-varden ]

#ic #rp #Trades & Blades #AlyKat #Unit Eight

[pxedpiper]

Horizon (3)

Plot Summary: Once a princess of a kingdom you loathed to call yours, you have somehow found yourself aboard a pirate ship, stuck on the ocean waves. Now you try to figure out how to escape them, but as you continue to journey with them, you find yourself wondering if you even want to.

Pairings: Ateez x Reader

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and sexual implications throughout the fic, nothing ever specified in detail

Previous / Masterlist / Next

A/N: My dumb ass realized too late that I never properly described the boys, so I tried to do so in this chapter. Basically, how I picture them is: Hongjoong: Illusion era, Seonghwa, San: Answer era, Yunho: Wave era, Yeosang: Pirate King era, Mingi, Wooyoung: Wonderland era, and Jongho: Say My Name era. Hopefully that came across properly dfghder

Just as quickly as the room fell silent, you could hear Sweet growl from the side of the room, making his way to Hongjoong as he pushed others out of the way.

“Just what game do you think you’re playing here?” He snarled, getting into the younger man’s face, “You’ve never shown any interest in owning a whore before, what makes you think I’m going to believe you suddenly changing your mind now?”

The famed pirate simply looked calmly at him, as though he couldn’t be bothered by Sweet’s comments, saying, “My reasons don’t and shouldn’t concern you. All that matters is that I can pay the amount necessary; I’m sure you don’t doubt that, do you?” Still glowering at him, Sweet couldn’t think of a response to counteract him. Hongjoong continued, “I’m a paying customer, and I have my rights to buy whatever or whoever I want. Unless you want to deny me, then I can’t be held responsible for what may happen.” At that, you could see Sweet swallow in nervousness, knowing if he were to start a fight here, it wouldn’t end well. He backed off, letting Hongjoong continue to the front, though very clearly unhappy with how things had turned out.

“W-Well, we have Kim Hongjoong currently at the highest bid, would anyone else like to try to top it?” The announcer continued, but it was pointless. No one wanted to go against the Pirate King. “Alright then, going once! Going twice! Sold, to the Pirate King!” Silently, you watched as your new owner made the proper payments, then looked to you as if to say Let’s go. Without a word, you followed him out the auction house, dreading every step you took closer to the ship he called home. As you walked, you saw a man with black hair who seemed to be waiting for him, looking at you with a confused expression.

“Hongjoong, what have you done this time?” The new man sighed, as if this were a common occurrence. Shockingly, you watched as the dreaded pirate laughed at his crew mate’s tone.

“Nothing bad! I just saw someone worth saving, that’s all!” He replied, a cheerful smile on his face. Saving? You thought to yourself, Is that what he thinks he’s done?

The other man just held his head in his hand, as if in disapproval, “This is why we can’t let you go out on your own. Every time you do, we end up with another crew member. Do you even know her name?” This made him pause, realizing he did, in fact, not know your name.

Turning to you, he gave you a sheepish smile, as if he weren’t threatening your kidnapper not even fifteen minutes ago, “Apologies, ma’am, but I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name?” You stared at him, not wanting to give him any sort of leverage against you, so you stayed quiet. While you weren’t fond of your father, the one thing he managed to be bothered to teach you was to be distrustful of pirates, especially the one known as the Pirate King, and so far, your time with pirates hadn’t exactly made you change your mind on the matter.

Coughing awkwardly, he tried to shrug off his jacket, starting to say, “Here, you probably would like something to cover you-!”

You cut him off before he could finish, pushing away from him, “I don’t want anything of yours, pirate!” At that, you could see the confusion of his eyes clear up before he let out a sigh.

“Of course,” he seemingly whispered to himself, “Why would she trust someone who just bought her?”

“You bought her?!” The other man nearly shouted, looking incredulously at his captain, who merely gave him a defensive look back.

“It was either that or cause a scene!” Hongjoong shot back, putting his hands up in defense, “Which one do you think would be worse?!”

“It’s no wonder she doesn’t trust you, she likely thinks she’s your slave!” He means to tell me I’m not? You thought to yourself, watching the madness continue. With that, the other man turned to you, a kind smile on his face, “I’m truly sorry about the lack of thoughtfulness from my captain. I am Seonghwa, his quartermaster. It’s nice to meet you, miss…?” If you were to be honest with yourself, you almost gave up then and there. Something about Seonghwa made you feel as though you could trust him, until you remembered that he was a pirate and that none of them were to be trusted at all.

“Sweet claimed she was a princess,” Hongjoong once again spoke up, “That was her selling point. It’s not a name, but it’ll do well enough as something to call her, right, Princess?” His expression didn’t change one bit at your icy glare, continuing to give you the same smile he had on his face.

“She’s a princess?” Seonghwa asked, looking naturally confused at the thought.

Hongjoong scoffed, “Of course not, Sweet may be ruthless, but even he isn’t so dumb as to attack a ship with royalty on board.” So, he didn’t believe you were a princess. Just as well, you thought, Otherwise I’d be held for ransom.

“Well what do we do with her? We can’t just make her work for us!” Seonghwa argued, making you even more confused as to why they seemed to care about your wellbeing.

Hongjoong shot back quickly, “Well, we can’t just leave her here either! Who knows what kind of scum she’d fall victim to if we were to leave her alone!” It seemed that was an argument that Seonghwa couldn’t counter, sighing to himself before he turned to you once again.

“I know this is a less than ideal situation for you, but I’m afraid there isn’t many options. If you go with us, we can both promise that you won’t be harmed, there won’t be a safer place for you. And if you want to, we’ll take you anywhere you want if you choose to leave. But if you stay here, we can’t guarantee you’ll be safe. I’m sure you’ve figured out what kind of town this is, correct? The choice is yours, of course.” Pirates and their damn choices! You cursed mentally, wanting nothing more than to be rid of all this trouble. But still, you sighed, knowing they both had a point. Port Royal was very well known for being one of the seediest towns in all the Caribbean, and the thought of staying there unprotected wasn’t one you wished to humor.

Swallowing your pride, you managed to answer, “Fine. I’ll go with you. But don’t expect me to act as some sort of slave of any kind towards you or your crew members!”

“What kind of person do you take me for, Princess?” Hongjoong rolled his eyes, almost as if he was offended, “Of course I wasn’t going to make you a slave! Give me some credit at least, I’m not one of those brutes you saw at the auction house. I promise you, as my title as Pirate King, you won’t be mistreated while on my ship.” You looked at him, not sure what to make of his claims. You figured it was better to go along with it for now, and try to find a way to escape later. Until then, looks like you would be stuck on a pirate ship for the unforeseeable future.

                                                         ~

From then on, they both led you to their ship, a beautiful vessel called The Utopia. You tried not to look too impressed with it, but you might not have done a good job, as you caught Hongjoong’s slightly smug smirk as he boarded the ship. It was from then that you were introduced to the rest of the crew.

“Jung Wooyoung you put that grenade down!” You heard Seonghwa shout from next to you, glaring right at a man with blond hair holding said grenade. The new man, supposedly Wooyoung, simply grinned at him in response, “Come on now, Seonghwa, I’m just keeping count! That’s my job, remember? The captain himself made me the master gunner!”

“Keeping count my ass, we just kept count earlier! You know you’re not allowed to be near them if you don’t have permission from both me and the captain!” Seonghwa shot back, almost like a mother lecturing her child.

“Do I have permission then?” He tried, the same goofy grin on his face.

“No.” Hongjoong and Seonghwa both firmly spoke at once.

Laughing freely, Wooyoung simply replied with, “It was worth a try!” It was then he turned his attention to you, “Oh? Who’s this then?”

“A girl?” Another man, one with dark, slightly long hair with a grey streak in the front, came out from seemingly nowhere, leaning closely to you to get a better look, causing you to lean back away from him. Are all the men on this ship handsome?

One at a time you saw more crew members start to make themselves known, each of them looking vastly different than the other; you even saw someone with blue hair, who stood at a height that would even intimidate your brother. The carefree smile on his face, however, threw off any intimidation factor he might have had, seeming more like a puppy than a savage warrior. Next to him stood a man of similar height, this time with red hair that framed his face in curls. He seemed more serious than the others so far, but looks can be deceiving, and at this point you were ready to accept anything that came your way.

The next person almost made you look twice. Is he a pirate or a prince? With caramel hair that parted around his face, he was by far one of the most handsome men you’ve seen, and you seemed to be seeing a lot of them lately. However, he also seemed serious, and unlike the red head, you got the feeling this one was genuinely someone not to be reckoned with. Next to him was a boy, just barely old enough to be called a man, with reddish brown hair and a polite grin on his face. It was quite clear to you that this was the youngest of the crew, although the amount of muscles he had almost made you doubt that assessment.

“Captain, why is there a girl here? What, have you finally bought yourself a companion?” The black haired man snickered, earning himself a reproachful look from Seonghwa.

Hongjoong himself blushed a bit at his crew mate’s words before answering, “Of course not! I bought her off of Elias Sweet, tell me, do you think he had any good intentions for her?” No one raised any comment at that question. “Now, she’ll be joining us from now on; not as an official member of the crew, but just until she can find a place to stay. So, therefore, you should all introduce yourselves now, and save her the trouble later.”

“I’m Wooyoung!” The master gunner introduced himself immediately, holding out his hand for you to shake, “It’s nice to meet you!” You just stared at his hand, not making any move to take it or respond.

“Don’t mind that,” Hongjoong dismissed your attitude with a wave of his hand, “She isn’t the fondest of pirates. Won’t even give us her name, I’ve taken to calling her Princess because that’s what Sweet claims her to be.” You heard the prince like one scoff at the captain’s words.

“Sounds like a joy to be around, truly,” He rolled his eyes, making you narrow yours at him. You could already tell that the two of you likely weren’t going to get along very well.

“Yeosang, be nice,” Seonghwa chastised, turning to you, “Don’t mind him, miss. He can just be a bit blunt sometimes, that’s all.”

“I’m Choi San!” The one with the streak in his hair spoke up, getting your attention, “I’m the carpenter of the ship! If you see something broken, you should come to me immediately!”

“I’m Jeong Yunho! I’m the navigator,” The blue haired man smiled at you kindly, as though he weren’t a part of the crew of the most fearsome pirate out there. A part of you had to wonder if this was all just one giant act. “I’ll make sure none of us ever gets lost.”

The youngest one stepped forward, “I’m Choi Jongho, ma’am. I’m the cooper of the ship, I tend to the barrels and make sure everything’s alright with them.” This piqued your interest.

“I’ve never heard of a cooper before,” At the sound of your voice, barely audible due to how soft it was, you could see his face light up.

“So she can speak!” The red haired man laughed, making him seem incredibly less serious than he had earlier, “I’m Song Mingi, the boatswain. I’m the one making sure everything is clean and in shape, and also the one who’s in charge of the anchor whenever we arrive on land. It’s nice to meet you, Princess.” Internally, you cringed at him already picked up the nickname Hongjoong had given you.

“Yeosang, don’t be rude,” Seonghwa once again lectured the boy, who rolled his eyes once again at the thought of having to be polite to you, “Introduce yourself.”

“Fine,” He sighed, clearly not wanting to make a fuss, “I’m Kang Yeosang, the medic. Please, do not get injured any time soon.” Yeah, definitely don’t like him.

Clapping his hands, Hongjoong turned to you, “Alright then, now that introductions are over, everyone go back to their positions! Wooyoung, could you possibly fetch her some clothes that don’t fit you anymore? She can’t stay in that dress forever, and we can’t get her proper clothes until we reach Tortuga.”

“Why don’t you give her some of your clothes, Captain? You’re the smallest one on board!” Wooyoung teased with a cheeky grin, causing the feared pirate king to nearly hurl something at him before ordering, “Just go do it, you troublemaker of a gunner!” Laughing on his way out, Wooyoung was surprisingly quick to follow his captain’s orders, coming back with a shirt and pants. “They’re not much, but they’ll last her for a bit. Should at least make it to Tortuga.” He handed them to you with a wink, causing you to look down to avoid him seeing you flustered. Curse these goddamn pirates.

“Now then, follow me, please,” Seonghwa asked, urging you to do so, “You can’t well stay in the same room as a man, but luckily we do have a spare room we don’t use, so you should be fine there. We’ll try to stay as out of your way as possible. I’ll let you know whenever meals are so you don’t go hungry. Any questions?” During this time, you had been following him to a spare room that had a spare bed, nothing too fancy like the one back in your castle, but a bed nonetheless. You looked at him, unwilling to speak unless you absolutely had to. He sighed, “I know you don’t trust us. I can only imagine the stories you must have heard. But I promise you, every single one of these people aboard this ship is a good man, and we aren’t the savage monsters you must imagine us to be. I can only hope that you’ll be able to see that soon. Until then, try to relax, alright? We have a long journey ahead of us. I’ll come back down again when dinner’s ready.” With that, he closed the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Good men, You scoffed to yourself, laying down on the bed as you stared at the ceiling. No pirate is a good man.

#ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez pirate au #hongjoong fanfic #seonghwa fanfic #yunho fanfic #yeosang fanfic #san fanfic #mingi fanfic #wooyoung fanfic #jongho fanfic

[trueislamfacts1]

Is Islam a Religion of Peace?

Islam was founded upon principles of peace and harmony to establish love, affection and collective responsibility towards the spiritual, physical, and mental wellbeing of all of society. ‘Islam’ a name given by God Almighty to this religion (Qur’an 5:4), is an Arabic word which literally means obedience and peace. ISLAM is derived from the Arabic root “SALEMA” meaning peace, purity, submission and obedience. So ‘Islam’ means the path of those who are obedient to Allah and who establish peace with Him and His creatures. The Holy Prophet Muhammad (sa) defined a Muslim as one whose word or deed cause no harm to others. ‘Peace’ is the greeting of Muslims and ‘Peace’ shall also be the greeting of the dwellers of Paradise.

Hence, any person that does not adhere to these principles of peace, harmony and collective good, is outside the boundary of this definition.

Deeper Dive – Who speaks for Islam?

So, what about all of the negative media rhetoric against this peaceful image of Islam? Well, first and foremost we have to ask who has an authority to speak about what “Islam” is and what it stands for? Is it Media? Is it ISIS? Is it the president of a ‘Muslim’ country? Or the Muslim down the street from you?

None of these. The truth is that when we desire to know what any organization, company, country etc. stand for, we must look at its constitutional document. What any other person says or thinks is irrelevant, and if any person associates their actions towards this constitution, then cross-examination can easily manifest the truth from falsehood.

So, what is this constitution and basis of Islam? It is the following:

The Holy Qur’an (the perfect revealed word of God) Sunnah (practice of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (sa)) Passed down through practice, from the time of the Holy Prophet (sa) to present. After a few early decades, some practices were recorded in books. Ahadith (sayings of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (sa)) Traditions and narrations passed from the Holy Prophet Muhammad (sa) to his companions, and eventually future generations. These have varying levels of authenticity, for which early Muslim scholars developed an entire science of examination. The most important rule to remember is that a narration should not contradict the Holy Qur’an.

DOES THE QUR’AN TEACH PEACE?

The Holy Qur’an is categorical on its teachings about peace, after all, it is the key text of the religion that literally stands for peace. Let’s examine what it says about any and all sort of violence against an innocent person:

Whosoever killed a person – unless it be for killing a person or for creating disorder in the land – it shall be as if he had killed all mankind. (Al Maidah, Ch.5: v. 33)

Explaining this verse, Hazrat Mirza Ghulam Ahmad of Qadian, founder of the Ahmadiyya Muslim community states

‘A person who kills a person unfairly or who kills someone who had neither rebelled, nor became a source of violating peace amongst the people nor created disorder in the land, it is as if he has killed the whole of mankind. In other words, to kill a person without any cause is, according to God Almighty, like the murder of the entire human race. It is obvious from this verse, how big a sin it is to take the life of another person without reason.’ (Lecture Chashma-e-Ma’rifat pp 23-24: Commentary by the Promised Messiah Vol.2: p.405)

In fact, he goes even further to state emphatically the need for peace and kindness:

He who abandons kindness abandons religion. The Holy Qur’an teaches that whosoever kills a person without justifiable cause will be as if he has killed the whole world. In the same way, I say that if someone is not kind unto his brother, it is like he has been unkind to the whole world.’ (Al Hakam Vol. 9 No.15 dated 30 April 1905 p.2: Commentary by the Promised Messiah, Vol.2: p.405)

Freedom of Conscious and Religions

Let us look at another core and fundamental pillar established by the Holy Qur’an regarding religious freedom over 14 centuries ago:

لَاۤ اِکۡرَاہَ فِی الدِّیۡنِ There should be no compulsion in religion (2:257)

The Qur’an has given a clear-cut message of religious tolerance and freedom in this verse. Any person that suggests or acts otherwise steps completely against the command of Allah the Almighty and the practice of His Chosen Prophet (sa)

The Holy Qur’an protects freedom of conscious and religion in an extremely lucid and clear manner while stating:

‘It is the truth from your Lord; wherefore let him who will believe, and let him, who will disbelieve.’ (Ch.18:V.30)

Hence, there exists no injunction on any person to be forced or coerced into following Islam in any manner whatsoever. If force had ever been the desire of God Almighty would it have been difficult for Him to compel all of humanity to believe? Absolutely not. It is to this effect that God states in the Holy Qur’an:

‘And if thy Lord had enforced His Will, surely, all who are in the earth would have believed together. Wilt thou, then, force men to become believers?’ (Ch.10:V.100).

Highlighting this crucial verse, Hazrat Khalifatul-Masih V (aa), Supreme Head of the worldwide Ahmadiyya Muslim community, stated in an address:

“This verse clearly states that God, as the Possessor of all Powers, could easily force all people to adopt the same religion; however, He has instead given the people of the world the freedom to choose – to believe or to not believe.” (Address at Houses of Parliament in London, UK on Centenary of Ahmadiyya Muslim Community in UK 11 June 2013)

This can clearly be seen in the practice and life of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (sa) and his companions. When the Banu Nadir were exiled from Madinah when they failed to fulfil their promise to maintain peace. At that time, they also had many children of the Ansar (Muslim inhabitants of Madinah). These children had begun to live amongst the Jews, because in the pre-Islamic days of ignorance, amongst the Arab tribes of Aus and Khazraj, those who had no male children used to pledge that if the next child were born a male, they would make him a Jew. Thus, there were many boys from the Aus and Khizraj tribes who had been handed over to Jewish families. When the Jews of Banu Nadir were exiled because of their transgression, the Muslims wanted to get back their own descendants from the Jews. The Holy Prophet of Islam (sa) refrained them from their action on the very basis that ‘there is no compulsion in religion’ that once you hand over your own son to someone else and that someone else makes your descendant a follower of Judaism, you cannot take him back: he would have to go with the Banu Nadir.

Hazrat Khalifatul-Masih V (aa) describes another incident relating to a slave of Hazrat Umer (ra):

“Then there is the account of a slave of Hadrat Umar (ra) who narrates that although he was a slave of Hadrat Umar (ra), Hadrat Umar(ra) never forced him to become a Muslim. Hadrat Umar (ra) most certainly used to explain to him with love and affection to become a Muslim but the slave would refuse and Hadrat Umar(ra) would only say: There is no compulsion in faith and fell silent after that. Finally, before his death, he set this slave free. Now who can, therefore, say that there is any room for compulsion or causing a breach of peace in Islam?” (A lecture at the Universite D’Abomey-Calavi Cotonou, Benin. 8 Apr. 2004)

Therefore, there should remain no confusion regarding this aspect of Islamic teaching. Islam is against any and all type of compulsion in religion, and lays the accountability of belief at the behest of God Himself. No other entity, organization, structure, or person has any right to do or say otherwise.

LIFE OF THE HOLY PROPHET MUHAMMAD – THE PARAGON OF PEACE

The Holy Prophet Muhammad (sa) is the primary practical exemplar for all Muslims. His practices and sayings are held sacred, after the Holy Qur’an, perhaps there has never existed any other individual who has ever been emulated to this capacity. So, let’s see what his life tells us about whether Islam is a religion of peace or not.

First and foremost, we have the testimony of the Holy Qur’an regarding the preaching efforts of the Holy Prophet (sa) and his burning agony for the guidance of people while focusing entirely on peace:

‘I swear by his repeated cry “O my Lord!” that these are a people who will not believe. Therefore, turn aside from them, and say, “Peace;” and soon shall they know.’ (Ch.43 Vs 89-90)

This verse also states that in response to the Holy Prophet’s(sa) message of peace, his opponents did not only reject his teachings; they even ridiculed and insulted him. Indeed, they went even further and opposed him with enmity and created disorder and strife. Upon all of this the Holy Prophet(sa) pleaded to God that:

‘I desire to give them peace, but they do not give me peace. Leaving that aside they even strive to inflict pain and agony upon me.’

In response, Allah the Almighty consoled him by saying:

‘Ignore whatever they do and turn away from them. Your only task is to spread and establish peace in the world. You should respond to their hatred and transgressions by simply saying “peace be with you” and tell them that you have brought peace for them.’

The Charter of Medina – the First Constitution based on principles of Peace

Prophet Muhammad (sa) actively promoted peace, tolerance and compassion for all non Muslim minorities living in Arabia. He did not simply demand religious tolerance of his followers; his Sunnah was to provide legal and constitutional protections for religious minorities. This is perhaps best illustrated by two historic documents prepared by Prophet Muhammad (sa). The first document is the Charter of Media written in 622 A.D. – a formal agreement between Prophet Muhammad (sa) and all of the significant tribes and families of Medina, including Muslims, Jews and non-Muslim Arabs. Many scholars refer to this document as the first ever written constitution of a nation-state. The Charter of Medina pre-dated the English Magna Carta by almost six centuries.

The Charter consists of 47 clauses which set forth the formation of a sovereign nation state with a common citizenship for all communities. The Charter protects fundamental human rights for all citizens, including equality, cooperation, freedom of conscience and freedom of religion. Clause 25 specifically states that Jews and non-Muslim Arabs are entitled to practice their own faith without any restrictions. In short, the Charter of Medina was the first document in history to establish religious freedom as a fundamental constitutional right.

Then, secondly there is the Charter of Privileges that was granted to the Christian monks of Sinai. Western Islamic scholar, Marmaduke Pickthall, comments on this letter as follows:

“The Charter which Muhammad (sa) granted to the Christian monks of Sinai is a living document. If you read it, you will see that it breathes not only goodwill, but also actual love. He gave to the Jews of Medina, so long as they were faithful to him, precisely the same treatment as to any Muslims. He never was aggressive against any man or class of men . . . The story of his reception of Christian and Zoroastrian visitors is on record. There is not a trace of religious intolerance in any of this.”

What About All the Wars (Jihad) of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (sa)?

So, if the prophet of Islam taught peace, then why did he engage in so many wars? This is often a very naïve question raised against the holy personage of prophet Muhammad (sa), while ignoring the facts of history completely. Let us look at the entire picture.

Makkans, the place of the Holy Prophet’s birth and early preaching, outright rejected the message of the Holy Prophet (sa) to a large extent. The few that followed the prophet of Islam, were heavily persecuted. They were dragged through the streets, starved, cursed, boycotted, and even ripped apart in front of their family members. What was their crime? Simply that they believed in one God, and followed Muhammad (sa).

When the Holy Prophet Muhammad (sa) had finally established a just and peaceful society in Medinah, the Makkans were furious and vowed to destroy the Muslims. They could not let them live in peace even in Medinah. Hence, God Almighty finally gave permission to the Muslims to fight back in self-defense in the following command:

اُذِنَ لِلَّذِیۡنَ یُقٰتَلُوۡنَ بِاَنَّہُمۡ ظُلِمُوۡا ؕ وَ اِنَّ اللّٰہَ عَلٰی نَصۡرِہِمۡ لَقَدِیۡرُ Permission to fight is given to those against whom war is made, because they have been wronged — and Allah indeed has power to help them

الَّذِیۡنَ اُخۡرِجُوۡا مِنۡ دِیَارِہِمۡ بِغَیۡرِ حَقٍّ اِلَّاۤ اَنۡ یَّقُوۡلُوۡا رَبُّنَا اللّٰہُ ؕ وَ لَوۡ لَا دَفۡعُ اللّٰہِ النَّاسَ بَعۡضَہُمۡ بِبَعۡضٍ لَّہُدِّمَتۡ صَوَامِعُ وَ بِیَعٌ وَّ صَلَوٰتٌ وَّ مَسٰجِدُ یُذۡکَرُ فِیۡہَا اسۡمُ اللّٰہِ کَثِیۡرًا ؕ وَ لَیَنۡصُرَنَّ اللّٰہُ مَنۡ یَّنۡصُرُہٗ ؕ اِنَّ اللّٰہَ لَقَوِیٌّ عَزِیۡزٌ “Those who have been driven out from their homes unjustly only because they said, ‘Our Lord is Allah’ — And if Allah did not repel some men by means of others, there would surely have been pulled down cloisters and churches and synagogues and mosques, wherein the name of Allah is oft commemorated. And Allah will surely help one who helps Him. Allah is indeed Powerful, Mighty” (Ch22:V40-41)

Fair-minded commentators have utterly rejected the false barbaric image of early Islamic wars. De L O’Leary, for example, writes:

“History makes it clear, however, that the legend of fanatical Muslims sweeping through the world and forcing Islam at the point of the sword upon conquered races is one of the most absurd myths that historians have ever repeated.” (Islam at the Crossroads, p.8)

Hazrat Khalifatul-Masih V (aa) states regarding this issue while highlighting the need of the time:

The underlying point to consider is that the use of the sword or force is only permissible when a religious war is waged against Islam. In today’s world no one, be it a country or a religion, is physically waging war and attacking Islam on the basis of religion. Thus, it is not justifiable in any way for Muslims to attack any other party, in the name of religion, because this clearly violates the teachings of the Qur’an. )”   (A lecture at the Universite D’Abomey-Calavi Cotonou, Benin. 8 Apr. 2004)

The fact is that the Islamic wars were in self-defense after the Muslims had been pushed beyond all bounds of reason.

After 10 difficult years of fighting to establish religious freedom and peace, the Holy Prophet (sa) returned triumphant and victorious to Makkah. What did he do at this time? Kill his enemies? Destroy their houses and property? No. He proclaimed:

“There shall be no punishment upon any of you for I have forgiven you all.  I am a messenger of love and peace. I have the greatest knowledge of Allah’s attribute of being a ‘Source of Peace’ – He is the One Who gives peace. Thus, I forgive you of all of your past transgressions and I give you a guarantee of peace and security. You are free to remain in Makkah and to freely practice your religion. No one will be compelled or forced in any way.” (Bukhari)

The Holy Prophet readily granted amnesty to his persecutors, the magnanimity of which softened the hardest of hearts. Bitter enemies of the morning became warm friends by midday. Even the most die-hard enemies of Islam could not resist the healing balm so generously and so effectively applied by the Holy Prophet.

Commenting on this conquest of Makkah, the Rev. Bosworth Smith writes:

“Now would have been the moment to gratify his ambition, to satiate his lust, to glut his revenge. Read the account of the entry of Muhammad into Mecca side by side with that of Marins or Sulla into Rome. Compare all the attendant circumstances, the outrages that preceded, and the use made by each of his recovered power and we shall then be in a better position to appreciate the magnanimity and moderation of the Prophet of Arabia. There were no proscription lists, no plunder, no wanton revenge. From a helpless orphan to the ruler of a big country was a great transition, yet the Prophet retained the nobility of his character under all circumstances.” (Muhammad and Muhammadanism)

PEACE IN ALL ASPECTS

Therefore, Islam promised peace and delivered peace. The later fanatical politically fueled agendas of the extremist ‘Muslims’ that we see today have nothing to with Islam. Islam is a complete code of life, and promises to deliver peace in all aspects of life. From individual to family to social to international. No other religion delivers such a complete teaching without falling short on any matter.

#Is Islam a Religion of Peace #How do I convert to Islam #What is Islam #What do Muslims Believe About the After life #Are Muslims Terrorists #Is Islam a peaceful religion #What do Muslims Believe #Do Muslims Believe in Jesus #Women's Rights in Islam #True Meaning of Jihad in Islam #Is Islam a religion of violence #Is the Holy Qur'an the word of God #will Jesus come back physically #Did Jesus die on the cross #Ahmadiyya Beliefs and Practises #The Pigott Prophecy #What does Islam say about salvation #islam #islampost #convert to islam

[ridiculousravenclaw]

The Life of Elara Ware : Chapter 2

Elara sat on her butterfly patterned bedsheets, a heavy leather bound book in her lap. She was studying alchemy this year and wanted to get a basic understanding of it before school started. She was lost in concentration when her bubble of thought was burst by light tapping at her window. She looked up to see a shabby brown owl rapping its beak against the glass. She smiled. "Hi Errol". Elara crossed her room and opened the window. The old bird half hopped, half collapsed inside. Looking out her window Elara saw it was now starting to get dark. The sun retreated below the horizon casting shadows of deep orange and red across the sky. It was a beautiful summer's evening, a light breeze provided respite from the unforgiving heat of the day. Errol lazily nipped at her hand letting out an exasperatedly quiet hoot. "Sorry boy, here" She detached the tightly rolled parchment from his leg then opened the empty bird cage perched on top of her drawers, gesturing for him to go inside. Errol happily obliged helping himself to water. The Wares family owl Alizeh had to stay in Elaras room as her mother couldn't stand her hooting. But she was currently out hunting and Errol looked thankful for the hospitality.

Elara undid the scroll expecting to be greeted with another message from George, so she was surprised to find it wasn't his handwriting at all. 'Hello Elara. I know George has been in contact with you but I dont know exactly how much he's said or not said so I thought it best to write you myself. You are of course still welcome to come and stay tomorrow. Though I must warn you it'll be a bit of a tight squeeze. My eldest sons Bill and Charlie are home and are in the twins room meaning Fred and George are currently in with Ron and Harry. Oh yes, Harry's staying with us as well I hope you dont mind. You'll be in Ginnys room, but again, tight squeeze. We have Hermione staying in there too. I hope this is all okay with you. I've been told to expect you by flu powder at about 11. Our house is called The Burrow, I don't know if George had said. Anyway it's all still a go is what I'm trying to say and we'll take you to Kings Cross as planned. Look forward to seeing you Molly Weasley'

Elara smiled. The note really was unnecessary but she couldn't blame Mrs Weasleys lack of trust in George giving her all the correct details. She quickly scribbled a reply on the back of the note. 'Thanks again Mrs Weasley this is really kind of you. 11 o'clock. Flu powder. I'll see you then'

It took some convincing and several treats but Elara finally managed to get Errol out of Alizehs cage and attach the note to his leg. She wasn't sure if Errol was quick enough to get the note to Mrs Weasley before tomorrow morning but it was worth a try. She sent him on his way then made her way downstairs to the living room. There she found her mother silently working her way through stacks of documents she had laid out on the sofa. Her long brown hair was wound into a messy bun on top of her head and her black rimmed glasses were perched on the end of her narrow, slender nose. She was wearing grey jogging bottoms and a light blue t shirt that hung off one shoulder. She was sat cross legged, brows furrowed in concentration. She hadn't noticed Elara walk in.

"Watcha doin?" Elara said. Her mother sent several pages scattered across the wooden floor as she jumped in surprise.

"Jeez sweet pea don't sneak up on me like that!"

Elara laughed and stepped forward to help as her mum started chasing papers around the room. "sorry. I wasn't aiming to scare you"

"yeah? then why are you laughing at me?" Her mother retorted as she tried to smack Elara on the backside with a recovered sheet. She tried to put on a disgruntled face but she couldn't hide her smile as her daughter dodged her attacks.

"hey! I'm helping!" Elara replied, smiling goofily back as she hopped out of her mothers reach.

"causing mayhem more like"

Elara folded her arms defiantly, a devious grin on her lips

"fine. I wont help then"

Elara put up her hands in mock surrender and started walking towards the door.

"hey! not so fast. This is your doing so you can come tidy you cheeky bugger"

Elara complied with an exaggerated curtsy as her mother started to reorganize the pages.

"honestly. all I came down for was to tell you I'm going to the Weasleys at 11. now you've got me clearing up like your personal slave" Elara put on her best dramatic sigh which made her mother chuckle.

"think how I feel. it took me ages to put all this in order now I've got to do it again"

"hmm, well if you will insist on throwing things around the house"

"oi!" her mother retorted but once again she couldn't stifle her smile.

"11 did you say?" She added after a moment.

"yup"

"how were you going to get there?"

"flu powder" then at the look of confusion on her mothers face she continued "that's the one where you travel through the fireplace. wosh" Elara flailled of her arms to illustrate.

"oh right. the one that scares me to death you mean?"

"that's the one"

"great!" Her mother gave her a double thumbs up but her eyes showed her disapproval. Elara rolled her eyes.

"mum how many times? it's safe. I've been using flu powder since I was 7. Everyone does"

Her mother sighed, nodding her head reluctantly "I know, I know"

They picked up the last few pages in lazy quiet before Elara went to kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. When she returned she found her mother staring into the currently empty fireplace like she was waiting for something. Elara silently stood by her side handing her a floral patterned mug. She looked at her mothers face obviously deep in thought. She looked almost upset. "mum?"

It was several moments before she answered.

"you know it doesn't matter how impressive and mystical and amazing all this is. Theres still a massive part of me that wished you took after me, not your dad."

Elara couldn't deny she felt offended, and it must've shown on her face

"no no that's not what I meant. Oh hunny your magics incredible and you make me proud every day. Please know that. It's just. I dont know. I can't lie. I'd be a lot less stressed if you just grew up to be a hairdresser or something. Something ordinary. Something risk free" Elara felt confused at the direction the conversation had taken. Quick to defend the life she loved so much she answered

"Well wheres the fun in that? mum I'm perfectly safe in the wizarding world. you must know that. it may still be weird to you but its who I am and its normal for us."

Her mother looked at her for a moment. Then smiled a strange, sad sort of smile. She started to say something, then stopped herself sipping on her tea instead. Elara could see a million thoughts spiraling behind her mothers eyes. Then, finally "yeah. yeah of course you are." Then without a word she turned and left.

As she stood alone in front of the mantelpiece, Elara had the feeling like she was missing something. Then a most unwelcome thought; that there was something her mother wasn't telling her. Her mother had always been a worrier. Fretted over her wellbeing day and night. It never bothered her. In fact Elara Ware had grown so used to her mothers fussing she almost didn't notice it anymore. But now that she stopped to think, since returning from school that summer it'd seemed to get a lot more frequent. Obsessively checking in on Elara through the day. Restricting when she could leave the house, not letting her go alone. At first Elara thought this was just her fear of her baby growing up. Now that she'd sat her exams, chosen a career path, got a boyfriend. But now she wasn't sure. Whatever it was, her mother was definitely upset by it.

The next morning Elara woke up later than she wanted to. She ran downstairs and inhaled some cereal so fast she was sure she must have set a new world record. Then back upstairs for a hurried shower, which unsurprisingly resulted in shampoo in her eyes. Swearing repeatedly and dripping water onto the tiles as she went. Elara stumbled blindly across her en suit reaching for a towel. cursing herself for not putting one out first. Quickly drying herself off she threw open her wardrobe, looking at her limited selection of clothes. most of it was packed in her trunk. She glanced out the window. It was raining and with the rain had brought cooler weather. She picked out her favourite pair of jeans and a loose white shirt with lace criss-crossed across the back.

It was only after she had triple checked her trunk, glancing at the clock and seeing she still had 30 minutes to spare, that Elara finally allowed herself to relax a bit. Mentally scolding herself for waking up late and turning her morning into a mad rush. She was gazing at her reflection in the mirror and without realizing found herself fussing with her hair. She couldn't explain why. Elara had never really cared what others though of how she looked before. Yet there she sat tucking her brown hair behind her ear, the pulling it forward, then tucking it back again. Perhaps it was the nerves of seeing her boyfriend again after weeks apart. After all they hadn't been dating that long when school ended for the holidays. Or perhaps it was the stress of meeting his whole family. But then again she already knew half of them. She may never have spent much time with Ron, Percy or Ginny but they were already acquainted. Then of course theres Fred. the twins came as a pack. you rarely get one without the other and she'd been going to school with them for 5 years.

She tried to shake the nerves, focussing instead on the thing she'd always liked about herself. She gazed into her eyes which were the only ones like them she'd ever known. Her right eye was a cool blue, like a river. Her left eye a pale light green flecked with yellow. The muggle doctors said it was a genetic condition with a weird name she could never remember. it didn't matter. Elara loved her eyes. they made her different. Different was good. She looked at the clock again. 20 minutes. She picked up her trunk which she'd played at the foot of her bed and began to haul it down the stairs.

"you'll write wont you"

"nah I won't bother I'll just leave you in suspense the whole year"

"Elara Ware!"

"I'm joking! I'm joking! C'mon mum I'm in my 6th year now. I'm a big girl. I'll be fine. and I'll be back before you know it."

Her mother sighed and pulled Elara into a bone crushing hug. "I know. I just worry" Elara chuckled "yeah funnily enough I've noticed"

Her mum ignored this "I love you" she mumbled into Elaras hair. "I love you too" Just then Elara noticed the time on the clock "ooh mum I've got to go. its time" Elara wriggled out of her mums grip and stepped into the fire place where her trunk was waiting. "mum the powder"

"oh yeah right"

Her mother grabbed a small clay pot from ontop of the book case. It was peculiar in shape, unpainted and unvarnished. Elara had very vague memories of making it at muggle school when she was about 7 years old. Inside was the floo powder. Elara grabbed a handful and offered one last smile to her mum. "Bye mum"

"Bye darling"

Elara dropped the floo powder onto her feet and shouted "The Burrow" With that she started to spin. Faster in faster as her living room dissolved into a blur of colour. But just before she lost sight of her mother completely she saw it again. The same sad look in her mothers eyes. She was trying to hide it but still it was unmistakably there. Why? what was Elara not understanding? Before she could even fathom the answer the spinning stopped. She was no longer in her living room. She stepped out onto a well worn rug to a wall of welcoming red headed smiles. and there standing the closest the one she was most excited to see. beaming the brightest of all "miss me?" Said George

#harry potter fanfiction #hufflepuff #hogwarts #fanfic #original character #ravenclaw #gryffindor #slytherin #georgeweasleysgf #george weasley #molly weasley #harry potter #ginny weasley

[wistsandmagic]

Question for my followers -- please help?

So. Some of y’all know a bit about my living situation currently. About how I am a queer, physically-disabled, autistic adult living with my immediate family who are emotionally abusive and tend to treat me as their house-slave instead of a family member.

I can’t even approach the subject of me being asexual or nonbinary/demi-girl, because either one of them could possibly mean I lose what little support I have from my family. I also live in an area that is VERY LGBTQA+ unfriendly, and it’s...kind of dangerous to be someone like me.

Some of you may also know that my best friend is trying to set things up to where I can move in with her, away from this situation, where maybe the distance will mean my relationship with my family will improve on all sides, I will be safer and in a more queer-friendly city, I will have a better support network of people who actually care about me and helping me instead of belittling me, and have more opportunity to have a job that doesn’t cause me crippling pain and anxiety.

Moving me out means moving to an entirely different state, some 300 miles away. It’s not completely across the country, so feasible.

The problem I am facing right now is money. My income is...not great, and quite a bit of my money is basically stolen every paycheck to pay the bills of my parents instead of them paying even a portion of it. I have very little.

I need to move. Desperately. I need out of this situation, for my mental and physical wellbeing. I need to move soon.

My question is, should I set up a GoFundMe page for something like $3k, to cover moving expenses and bills until I can find a job and start paying my portion properly, and would it even be feasible to ask people for that much when I am not someone known?

Can anyone help me out with answers?

#questions #follower questions #gofundme #fundraising #signal boost #I don't know what else to put here...

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #107

UPDATE 107: The Classic Question

Last time there was an interlude. Defiant and Dragon continued their hunt for the Slaughterhouse Nine, finding they had caused carnage in a hospital. So now it’s back to Brockton Bay with the Undersiders. Will they have some peace? Let’s find out.

Looks like Taylor is still hanging out in her territory, watching things happening and the construction progress. I suppose she’s without her costume, so it should be easy for her to go around without being noticed. The construction is progressing nicely, and it doesn’t seem like there are any problems going on. This makes her think about the current situation, she’d have liked to go demand Coil for him to let Dinah go, since they fulfilled his demand of keeping their grip on the city. Even though Coil had promised to let go of Dinah, I really don’t think he’ll fulfill it. Call me a skeptical, I just don’t think he’ll let go of someone who’s been such an advantage for him.

It wasn’t like she could have gone to make her own demands; Trickster had already gone to have a talk.

Trickster’s focus was on Noelle, though, and nothing I’d seen indicated that Coil had made any advances on that front. All I knew, really, was what Tattletale had told me and the little things that had come up in our brief discussion with the Travelers about our strategy.  She’d been a girl, maybe not in the best of health.

It was possible Trickster had been trying to save Noelle in the same way I was trying to save Dinah.  The circumstances were different, obviously: Coil was the best answer the Travelers had to Noelle’s situation, but he was the cause of Dinah’s.

You know, if Skitter takes Coil out of the way, I wonder how she’ll handle Noelle’s situation. She can’t just walk away and pretend nothing is happening, she’ll have to at least give a temporary solution. The problem is that neither she nor anyone reading this story at this point knows what exactly is going on. There’s enough evidence it’s something very nasty and needs a lot of precautions, but without any information she can’t even do anything. If only she had an idea of what was happening...I’m not saying she’d be able to come up with a solution Noelle and the Travelers need, but clearly the Noelle Situation is going to be something to consider and deal with.

Oh, looks like I misinterpreted the stuff so far. Taylor is not going around in her territory; she’s examining everything with her bugs. It’s the next day, but she’s currently in the hideout, lying on her bed with her eyes half-open.

Somehow Brian managed to sleep somewhat. It’s not a good night of sleep, but it must have been better than any of the last few nights, no? It’ll do him good, physically he’s in perfect shape, but mentally he’s...well, he’s still traumatized, so sleeping may do him some good. I just hope he’s not having bad dreams. He doesn’t want to see a therapist yet.

Now that I think about it, what are the Undersiders’ options for mental health? Can they go see a therapist? Can they ask Coil for help about this? I’m not sure they can have access to psychologists or therapists due to their status as villains, and they can’t talk to a civilian therapist given their issues stem from supervillainy. All in all, they seem to be kind of screwed.

As if to show how not okay Brian is, he says how he has to force himself to lower his guard while he’s here spending time with Skitter, not because he doesn’t trust her or anything, but because he’s perpetually on alert.

“That’s not what I mean.  I mean, you know.  I… I can’t relax.  Can’t stay still, can’t stop watching over my shoulder or make my brain stop replaying scenes in my head.  Except I can, if I’m active, if I’m doing something like we were against those Dragon suits, or if I’m with you, and I’m lying here in your bed, trying not to wake you up.  Then I know I can’t get worked up, it gives me these boundaries I can force myself to work inside.”

There’s this saying that says the devil loves idle hands, but I guess when you’re as traumatized as Brian is, the devil also messes with the heads. Damn, I hope he’ll be okay...

Ah, Taylor has plans with Dad Hebert! It has been so long since she spent time with him, so I’m glad to see this. I hope this family time will go without any trouble! A nice day, without having to worry much about the villainy and everything it brings along, would do her some good.

Breakfast time, where they try to avoid talking about anything related to work. The most they did was comment about how Skitter hasn’t progressed in mastering the listen through the bugs part, and at this point I don’t think she’ll be capable of doing such a thing without a second trigger...and I really, really don’t want her to have a second trigger. It just is something nobody should go through – heck, the first trigger is something nobody should go through.

Brian talks about his past, and other than his martial artist proficiency there’s not much detail even though Brian talked about some heavy stuff. I imagine it was nothing that wasn’t known before, then. After their conversation, they took a walk around the territory, seeing how the civilians help the construction crews. This makes her wonder how it’s possible she has civilians on her side after everything that was happened.

I felt like I should be losing people each time I got pulled into a fight against a major threat.  I had, when Mannequin and Burnscar had attacked, but I’d walked away from the first Mannequin fight with something of a following, and I’d expected to see my people leaving in droves after Dragon made her move. Except it wasn’t happening, and I wasn’t entirely sure why.

I’m not certain either, I have to admit, but if I had to guess, maybe Skitter’s sincere efforts to help and work for the territory’s wellbeing has been noticed and are now being rewarded. I admit I’m not entirely certain that’s the reason, though. In my opinion, everyone’s opinion of Skitter will be revealed further once the territory is fixed and in decent condition. Only then everyone will show what they truly think. I’m positive Skitter will continue working for everyone’s wellbeing, but will people still accept her after things are okay?

Still, fighting Dragon’s drones was quite a risk and not the action of someone who doesn’t support her, so I’m sure Skitter has fans anyway.

Family time! Taylor walks to her home, seeing a lot of cars in front of the house, cars she doesn’t recognize. For a moment she fears Coil is backstabbing her and putting Dad Hebert in danger, and she mentions in the narration how he has a knife and pretty much a nest of wasps and spiders in her pants – oh god, the mere thought of that is incredibly unnerving – so she takes the plunge and goes to the front door.

Dad Hebert has guests! Family friends and work pals, judging by the person who opened the door. I’m glad despite everything things are well enough for socialization. Taylor is greeted, she doesn’t seem...very enthused about seeing people here, I guess because she expected to be alone with Dad Hebert.

This wasn’t Dad Hebert’s idea; it was an impromptu social visit. Personally I think it’s good, some levity is good in their lives, what with the current situation in the city and all.

Nobody that could be a threat, none of Coil’s people.  I let myself relax.  What had I been thinking?  That he’d strongarm my dad?

In Skitter’s defense, it’s not really impossible. Coil is capable of doing anything if it helps his goals, and Skitter is a liability with her pesky moral opinions. I wouldn’t be surprised if he attacks Dad Hebert at some point to try to dissuade her.

There’ll be a mayoral debate later, and it sounds like afterwards there’ll be votes to define who the mayor will be. I remember Coil had said he had a couple puppets in that race, so in 24 hours he both got the heroes out of his hair and most likely will win the mayoral race. It’s like in this day everything he had worked for is solidifying.

They want Dad Hebert to come by and ask questions about the ferry they all work at, so they all have one thing more to be dissatisfied about with the current mayor – the guy who, may I remind everyone, was intimidated in his own home like three days ago. That incident must have been kept under wraps, judging by how everyone has a very negative opinion of the mayor arguing in Washington Brockton Bay shouldn’t be quarantined and evacuated.

That surprised me.  “You’re not happy the city was saved from being condemned? Did you want to be kicked out of the city?  To leave your home?”

“It’d suck, but the way they were talking about it in the paper, there’s a big fund that’s set aside for covering the damages those Endbringer motherfuckers cause.  Idea was that they’d dip into those funds, give everyone that they ousted a bit to cover the cost of their homes.”

Given the amount of people I don’t think it’d have been much money given to everyone. While I’m sure it’d be a decent amount, I’m not sure it would be enough for the cost of relocating and having to acquire a new place to live in, as well as furniture and everything a home must have. Besides, I’m sure wherever they all go, there’ll be villains too, so...to me as a reader it’s a bit hard to know what’d be the best situation for someone.

They’d give what the houses are worth right now. How much would that be...a couple hundred thousand dollars, perhaps, per home owner? Golly, the government would have needed a huge fund.

Since everyone seemed to have given up on Brockton Bay despite the construction work, Taylor may have felt like her efforts were getting disrespected, because she brings up a “hypothetical” question: would it be better to live in a city where the villains rule but things are actually okay, or where the villains have no control but things are awful?

Turning to me, he said, “I suppose you’re asking the classic question, Taylor.  Would you rather be a slave in heaven or a free man in hell?”

Call me selfish, but I sure would rather live in a place where things are okay, even if...there’s this cloud of terror over everything. Not having immediate safety is terrifying, let me tell you. When you have immediate safety, you can plan for a future where you can get out from under that cloud of terror.

This meeting is a reminder that there will always be people who don’t like the idea of being under villains’ benevolent reign, and it’s a completely valid position. Honestly I can’t say there are many positions that aren’t acceptable here, as long as said positions don’t involve hurting your fellow citizens.

“I’d rather not be a slave or in hell,” my dad responded.  “But sometimes I worry I’m both.  Maybe we don’t get the choice?”

Honestly, in the city’s current situation? Yeah, that sounds about right. It’ll be a while before things get better.

They ask Taylor why she’s bringing such a thing up, and Taylor takes the chance to point out the villains are the ones making noticeable steps to make things better. I don’t doubt the heroes have done their part as well, frankly, but given how what they have done hasn’t been mentioned yet, maybe their work is behind the scenes, instead of immediate relief.

“The problem with that,” my dad said, “Is that we’d be setting humanity back by about three thousand years if we let that happen.  It’d be falling back into an iron age mindset and leadership.  The people with the numbers and the weaponry lay claim to an area through sheer military strength.  They stay in charge as long as they can through family lines, merging families with whoever else has the military strength.  That lasts until the family in power peters out or someone smarter, stronger or better armed comes in to seize control.  Might not sound so bad, until you figure that sooner or later, the person who gets control is going to be someone like Kaiser.”

Hate to admit it, but he’s right. There’s no guarantee the Undersiders will always have control, or even that their reign will be good for the civilians forever. It’s possible in the future someone will try to take them off their thrones. I just hope when such a thing happens a hero’s the one to do it instead of a villain. But hey, silver lining! The world is going to end in less than two years, so it’s not like there will be time for any villain to defeat the Undersiders and take over Brockton Bay! Haha! Ha! Ha...oh man, that’s grim.

Either way, as I see it, the best course of action would be to play along in the hopefully peaceful Brockton Bay the villains will have – apparently – and try to get money and everything in order to get the heck out of the city, go somewhere else where things aren’t like this. That’s going to take a long while to do, though, so...yeah.

Sounds like in this debate there may be talk about the villains and the superheroes! Great! Time to find out about the public opinion.

“I’d offer you a drink,” Kurt said, chuckling, “But that’d be against the law.  How old are you, anyways?”

“Fifteen,” I said.

“Sixteen.”

I turned to look at my dad.

“It’s the nineteenth,” he said.  “Your birthday was a week ago.”

“Oh.”  I’d been a little distracted at the time.  A week ago, that would have been around the time we were wrapping up our confrontation with the Slaughterhouse Nine.  Lovely.

You know, with everything that happens, sometimes I forget Taylor isn’t even an adult yet. Many of the things she and her friends do and think make me forget they’re teenagers. A bunch of teenagers control half of the city. Oh god, if I didn’t know like half of those teenagers are trustworthy enough I’d be kind of scared.

Time to go! While they get into a car, Dad Hebert comments Taylor has changed, that not long ago she’d have stayed silent while everyone talked and she wouldn’t have offered her opinion. He’s right about that, yup. If there’s one thing her villainy has done is make her more assertive. Good for her!

Taylor warning Dad Hebert led to everyone else’s safety. I’m glad! I’m also glad Dad Hebert has friends he can be with. He deserves much better than what his life during Worm has been, seriously. I just hope he doesn’t die anytime soon, or at all.

There are just like five hundred people in the town hall, not a lot when it’s a city. Taylor can see the candidates, three in total. Doesn’t that mean Coil pretty much bought the rest of the competition? Any result that isn’t the current mayor keeping his job will be favorable to him. I really thought there would be more candidates, although I never doubted Coil would get his puppet in the seat of power.

While they wait for everything to start, Taylor makes her usual examination of the surroundings, finding a lot of vans with soldiers – soldiers that aren’t with the PRT. Is it a military presence, perhaps sent by the government? For security reasons?

The armored limousine pulled into the middle of the street, just outside the front doors.  By the time Coil climbed out of the vehicle, his soldiers were either just past the doors on either side of the building or standing at the ready to accompany him by the front.

Oh. He’s here, at the town hall. Things are going to happen and they won’t be good at all. Will he claim credit for everything that’s happening in the city, both good and bad? I don’t think he’ll try to make himself the mayor right then and there, because then what would be the point of having two candidate puppets? He’s planning something, that’s for sure, but I’m not sure what it’ll be. I almost never can figure out what it’ll be before it happens, hah.

Either way, this should be a good place to stop. There’ll be some stuff happening next time! What I wonder, though, is if it will be in a new arc or in this one. I can’t wait to find out what’ll happen!

Next time: in two updates

#worm #worm liveblog #webserial #liveblog #webserial liveblog

[clairekatswritingcorner]

Something To Fight For

Word Count: 2,198

Summary: After spending another agonizing night as the beast, Lester awakes to find himself alone in the woods. Concerned for his safety, Alexys wanders into the wilderness to find him.

*Author’s Note*: The first of two commissions I did for @bad-blue-moon-rising! She requested a piece about her and her werewolf bf, Lester, with plenty of angst and fluff. I admit I went a little heavy with the angst in this one, but with the subject matter it was almost impossible not to. But it does have a happy ending, and I really enjoyed getting to work with some characters I’ve never written before! Consider this another one of my selfship otps <3 I hope you enjoy!

It was early morning, but the sky was still dark. As the moon began to wane, he considered how ironic his curse was, that the largest light in the night sky was the catalyst for a being that snuffed out life like a candle. In his human life Lester tried to focus on bringing people happiness, comfort, and reassurance despite their troubles. No matter how deeply they were sucked into the dark pit of hopelessness, he was there to remind them that the light of hope would always lift them out again. But in the night, when darkness distorted everything into a monstrous form and made blood run cold…he was just another slave to its influence.

He’d run into the forest, the perfect place for nighttime to warp reality into something unfamiliar, scary, and dangerous. Trees cast shadows where moonlight bled through, their trunks gnarled and twisted and creating the illusion of faces—faces that belonged to demons or ghouls. Their branches were sharp like claws, and the rustle of their leaves could be mistaken for a howl when the conditions were just right.

Lester didn’t have to pretend, though. When people thought they were seeing the face of a monster, that’s what they really saw. When people heard or felt the slash of claws, or the echo of a desperate howl in the infinite void of night, it was always genuine. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t real, that he didn’t have to be, that this aspect of his life could just be a bad dream, a cruel lie that spread like roots through soil.

But he didn’t have the luxury to say he was living a lie…at least in terms of his detestable side. He lied about that all the time, sharing his kind human side with the townsfolk and living his days like any other citizen. But the part of him that filled him with disgust and loathing, that terrified others, that was instinctual and terrifying and bloodthirsty never stopped existing.

Sometimes things were calm enough for him to forget his curse, and he’d push thoughts of it to the back of his mind. But those pleasantries all inevitably ended when the beast returned to transform him, control him, break him. He would never embrace it, never accept it, even if he was bound to it forever. It had already cost him his left eye, this feral side demonstrating just how much of a danger it posed not just to others, but to himself.

He touched the white patch that covered the wound with human fingers, almost unrecognizable to him after spending a night as the beast. Even if it wasn’t the one that had shot his eye out, such an event would likely have never occurred if he didn’t have this condition. He knew he could never forgive himself for all the atrocities committed by his hands, even if they had been carried out against his will. He knew he deserved to be branded with this badge of impurity, a physical mark that never let him forget the sins resting on his shoulders. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to get up every day knowing what would be coming again soon, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Another thought, a happy thought, momentarily displaced his regret and flitted through his mind. It was an image of the woman he loved, and he could see her soft smile and gentle hands and feel her warm lips tingling on his skin as he soaked in her visage. She was always so kind to him, so accepting…too accepting. She had never once berated nor forsaken him for his deplorable side and all that came with it. She offered him words of love and reassurance and adoration that he returned wholeheartedly, but he didn’t know how she could still muster up such tender feelings for him.

He wished he was holding her right now, or being held by her. He dug his fingers into his arms, not enough to do any damage, but enough to express the dismay hanging over him. He didn’t deserve to have these feelings, or to accept hers. He didn’t deserve to take away her opportunity to have a better, unruined future, to find someone that would love her just as much as him, but without the haunting disadvantages.

His heart ached to imagine what it would be like to live without her, what it would be like to know that she was giving her love to someone else. He was too selfish, too in love with her to find any real joy in such a scenario. But if one day he happened to cross the line just a bit too far, if he snapped and committed some unforgivable act, he would have no objection to letting her go. It would hurt, it would feel like half of his heart was being ripped away, but if the decision was hers he would never even think of denying her the chance to move on to something—someone—better.

Little did he know that the focus of his affections was on her way to find him right now. Alexys had headed out just as the sun started to peek over the horizon; she had a pretty good idea of where she could find him. He’d unintentionally let that information slip to her on more than one occasion. If he wasn’t back home, he was likely somewhere in the forest at the edge of town. She’d caught sight of his footprints—or more accurately, pawprints—just as she entered the wood, following them eagerly. As she trudged through the trees she was careful not to make too much noise in the event that her sudden appearance startled him.

Before she knew it, Alexys was standing on the edge of the small clearing Lester had collapsed in. He was fully human again, and overwhelmed with agony, judging by the way he was holding himself. Her fists clenched and heart seized a bit as she examined the few scratches and cuts that were visible from where she stood; she was sure when she looked closer there would be even more. She stepped through the trees and his head whipped around at the sound, ready to flee if he’d been discovered by anyone else. But he registered her presence almost instantly, fighting between the urge to run into her arms or turn away and advise her to return home without him. She acted before he could reach a decision.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?”

It was an unnecessary question, but she wanted to know how much pain he was in, to assess whether he was in any condition to make it home without her help. He remained silent for a few moments, trying to pull himself together enough to give her a decent response. He didn’t have words strong enough to accurately describe his adoration and appreciation for her. Once again, she’d come to his rescue, drawing him back from the precipice of despair into her loving embrace.

“Lester, can you talk to me?”

She knelt beside him and he finally turned to face her. She was almost driven to tears by the desolate expression on his face, but the light that flickered to life in his eyes as he looked at her tapered it a bit. “I’m alright. I’m ready to go back if you are.”

She smiled and took one of his hands, pressing it to her lips. “Yes, of course. I didn’t want you to have to walk back alone.”

He lifted his hand away only to grab hers, pressing her palm against his cheek. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if had been anybody but you that found me.”

“No need to fear, your girlfriend’s here,” Alexys teased, relieved by the way the corners of his mouth turned up just a little. “C’mon, let me help you up. It looks like some of these wounds need to be treated when we get back, too. You can even lay in my lap while I do it if you want.”

A light blush colored his features at her proposition, although he couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted to take her up on her offer. She smiled and threaded their fingers together, slipping back to the house with him as swiftly and carefully as possible. As much as Lester preferred to avoid people when he was the beast, he also didn’t like having to explain himself if he was caught making his way back home from the woods. There would no doubt be questions—he’d faced them before—but with Alexys at his side the trek always went smoothly.

Alexys was just glad to hold his hand in hers again. She appreciated the warmth and rough texture of his skin, the way his fingers gripped hers tightly in return. She was happy that he wanted her around, and even happier that he trusted her enough to share his darkest secret. Of course, it would have been particularly difficult to hide the truth from someone he lived with, but she didn’t mind knowing. She wasn’t worried or scared or intimidated by him in the slightest, instead spending her anxieties on whether he was going to make it home the next morning or not. That was part of why she’d started going out to find him. If he’d gotten hurt, or worse, she wanted to be the first person to find him and come to his aid.  

As the two approached the house Alexys took off her coat and shoes while Lester headed to the bedroom to snag a change of clothes. Before he could get his shirt on she was there, shaking her head at him as she drew his attention to the box of first aid supplies she held in her hand. Lester sighed, not because he didn’t want her help, but because he didn’t want her to have to help. But there was no deterring her when her mind was set, and it would give him the excuse to be near her and let her run her hands over his shoulders and arms and back. That kind of attention was something he needed right now, for both his physical and mental wellbeing.

He took a seat on the bed and she got situated behind him, setting her legs on either side of him so she could scoot up closer to work. There were several flinches and yelps and curses from Lester as she did her best to patch him up painlessly, but nothing could be done to avoid the process of flushing his wounds with antiseptic fluid. After she felt she’d gotten him sufficiently bandaged, she examined her handy work. She’d used as many skin colored bandages as she could in the places where his skin was usually uncovered. Luckily, the biggest ones were mostly on his back.

Alexys trailed her fingers across some of her patchwork, admiring the parts of his skin that remained unblemished. She could feel the tautness of his muscles, the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed slowly, calmly. He was trying to recover from the bout of unpleasantness the treatment had caused, as well as mulling over some of the thoughts he’d had earlier. Thoughts about how she would be better off without him, thoughts about how he knew he could never bear it if he were to hurt her. But just the idea of bringing any of that up now made his stomach lurch.

“There’s something I need to tell you…” he began against his better judgement, turning his torso so he could face her. “I know you already know the risks, but every night it happens it seems to get worse. I feel like I’m losing more and more of myself. I’ll never be able to make up for the things I’ve done, the lives I’ve ruined. I don’t want yours to turn out the same—”

She hushed him by pressing a finger to his lips. Her eyes danced with ferocity and a little melancholy, but her expression communicated nothing but soft, unwavering love. “You can’t blame yourself for those things. You aren’t the one who did them. I’ll never love anyone like I love you, Lester. And I’ll face any risk that comes my way. I always have, and I always will. You’re worth fighting for.”

Although he wasn’t proud of it, tears undeniably began welling up in his eyes. Alexys kissed them away before they could fall down his cheeks. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, and he responded in kind as he closed his eyes and pulled her against him by her waist. It was true, neither of them wanted to live their lives without the other. As they held each other close, they treasured the intimacy, trust, and love. No one else in the world would ever be able to give them feelings like this, and that was enough. Besides, having her in his life gave Lester something to fight for, too.  

#self insert #selfinsert #self ship #selfship #oc x canon #self insert fic #self insert fanfiction #selfship fic #selfship fanfiction #my writing #claire writes #one shot #bad blue moon rising #commission

[richardadamron]

Article: Memorial Day 2021: Battle for the Promised Land

May 29, 2021

Media Pages

Richard A Damron

Memorial Day 2021: Battle for the Promised Land     May 29, 2021

 Humanity's fight or struggle for God's Kingdom and the Promised Land as seen through our visions, dreams, hopes and righteousness of simple truths is broadening around the World and narrowing or diminishing the ideals of UnBelievers. Our work and battles will likely intensify. As America regains strength with her allies and other centers of power to fight for equality, freedom, and justice, destructive measures of UnBelievers will likely increase WorldWide.

The first government assembled that wrote a constitution of laws to be guided by humanity's best principles of Life including theologies, philosophies, and learned from around the World was done so by oppressed people with understanding of and agreement to consequences. It's implementation began a fight of freedom for all humanity and welcomed all to join the battle. The United States of America and her allies has increased humanity's WellBeing significantly around the World. But actions have not been careless leaving to UnBelievers their decisions.

This Memorial Day Humanity's hopes, dreams, prayers, and battles comes to my mind this year as a blessing from those who have lived for and fought for righteousness through time on behalf of a better life and World no matter their vocation through following the paths of God and moving us closer to the Promised Land, God's Kingdom.

But our World still requires much work to eliminate poverty and pollution thus creating beautiful and prosperous nations and societies. Most of this work involves non-Caucasian regions of the World which make up most of Humanity and areas of Caucasian controlled nations. Much of the work of the past has been administered by Caucasians on the right side of the race and spiritual or religious schism and we have lately increased participation of non-Caucasians for greater insight and understanding and preservation of Spiritually driven cultures much associated with environment.

Our move toward righteousness has been greatly muddled by politics. I still believe that good people in vocations of politics have taken stands of guard upon position of authority to battle wrong doing. It is possible politics will become even more muddled. My example is that I may have owned slaves in order to provide them more freedom and prosperity and a better future while appearing bigoted or deceitful and being criticized. As well, it allows one entrapped in a situation or battle to remain with a modicum of hope having some control in positions of fronts of humanity's battle(s). One of the oldest tricks for manipulating money and/or actions of interest to one's favor is bait and switch, fraud. Primarily baiting the dreams and aspirations of prosperity and then switching to actions of destruction.

Our struggles with this battle causes an inner struggle, a mental struggle, with good and bad emotions making everyday Life difficult and, in my opinion, it has struck the hearts of society, the low to middle class of society, much more hard than anyone else. Making it even more difficult for the overall society to function. As often is the case, the majority of a society, the engine or workhorse, the lower to middle class, must prevail in this battle. It is their care and involvement that must be provided to the utmost in efforts to attain the Promised Land, God's Kingdom. We must not separate them from money, housing, food, and family and those things that support these. They should be happy in their endeavors and their vocations should support that. They could be looked upon as the most important of a military of the coming of God's Kingdom and treated as such. The gift(s) of endeavor and vocation instilled by God should be fostered in everyone. The local communities or societies could be much improved by economically involving more of our distant business leaders and administrators of the lower to middle class workforce.

Memorial Day brings thanksgiving to our Life and honors all who have gone before us in the fight for righteousness, the Promised Land, and Eternal Heaven. It instills hope and dreams for prayer and work.

Have a joyous Holiday and Celebration(s)!

#richarddamron #richardadamron #eternalway #onegodoneworld #mediapages #ebooks #books #God #spiritual #life #humanity #family #religion #enlightenment #renaissance #science #world #trade #economy #government #society #war #laws #judge #Heaven #hell #evolution #environment #conservation

[xtruss]

Opinion/Racism

On Ahmaud Arbery and the Video

What does the video of Ahmaud's murder show and was it wrong to post it?

"A white supremacist public will not be moved to action after viewing videos of anti-Black murders. It is their cinematic tradition," writes Yannick Giovanni Marshall for #AJOpinion.

— by Yannick Giovanni Marshall | May 11, 2020 | Al Jazeera English

Ahmaud Arbery, who was shot and killed by two white men in Brunswick, US on February 23, 2020, is seen in an undated photo provided by Marcus Arbery

One of the first things one notices when looking at the photographs of lynchings in America in the first half of the 20th century is the faces in the crowd. They are smiling.

Although the more popular descriptors used when referring to anti-Black terrorism are "sad", "tragic", "horrific", the word that should most readily come to mind is "pleasure". Lynchers smiled. They enjoyed the killing. They divided up the body, kept parts as souvenirs and used photos of the lynching as postcards. White supremacist society takes pleasure in the display of prostrate, vulnerable, tortured and murdered Black people.

In such a culture, it is easy to think of the circulation of the Ahmaud Arbery video as continuing that tradition. And it is. Most viewers watch the video with sadistic curiosity in their private spaces even if they later declare their outrage and let people know that they are upset in public.

Despite what some activists will argue, a white supremacist public will not be moved to action after viewing videos of anti-Black murders. It is their cinematic tradition. They are the directors, the producers, the stars and the consumers.

Images of Black people dead and dying is the raw meat that sustains a Negrophobic world. Kenyan social media was livid when photographs of the dead bodies of African people during the Dusit Hotel attacks in Nairobi last year were published before the friends and family of the dead were notified. Black people are not seen to be property owners of their own deaths. Their deaths are meaningless but their dying is clickbait and newsworthy. The Black corpse is a spectacle - not private, not wept over.

Of course, Black people are humans and there are many who share the racist erotophonophilic curiosity of the wider society, even if they represent their circulation of the video as an effort to demand social change. But appealing to white supremacist society betrays a faith in white supremacist society. It is faith in a society that has demonstrated a profound disinterest in the value of Black life every hour of the past four centuries. It is faith that this society is now on the cusp of being anti-racist.

That faith is misplaced.

It was misplaced when groups of enslaved people argued that if they smiled wide enough they would be let go. It was misplaced when new Black political representatives in the post-Civil War Reconstruction era believed that a non-racist America was on the horizon. It was misplaced when Civil Rights marchers believed that their singing sounded the death knell of racial discrimination. It was misplaced when people shouted "never again!" after Trayvon was killed. And it is misplaced now.

Racism does not grow old and die. It metastasises. This public will not be moved to action by Ahmaud any more than it was moved by Trayvon, by Sandra, by Eric, by Aiyana, or by the name we will hear two weeks from now, or the name we will hear two weeks after that.

This public can pull the plug on the economy, it can take the planes from the sky, but it will not willingly disband its lynch-mobs - uniformed or non-uniformed.

Do not offer up the bodies of the killed to win the sympathy of an unfeeling public. Decommission your hope. It polices you.

Many Black people have demanded and pleaded that the video of Ahmaud's murder not be shared due to its re-traumatising effects. They are hoping not to discover what they already know is the reality - that Black pleading is about as action-spurring as Black killings.

Black trauma is, however, real, intergenerational, and should be taken seriously. Our ancestors were gathered and forced to witness lynchings and floggings as well, be they in Basra, in Nairobi, in Cape Town, in Bahia, in Port-au-Prince or in Alabama. This is to say nothing of the millions of Black people who at this moment are being groped by police, separated from their families in prisons, or condemned to suffer the indignities of American totalitarianism in housing projects and ghettos.

Racist murder was the knife-point of racial oppression that drove waves of Black people from the American South during the Great Migration. Black people fled both the murderers in pick-up trucks and the local courts and governments that harboured them. They fled because the men who owned the white gun stores refused to sell them the arms they needed to defend themselves after Black-owned gun stores were broken into and the guns confiscated. Black people fled Ahmaud's killers tens of thousands of times.

Conservative media, like the white supremacist rags of the centuries before them, will instinctively search for a way to protect the murderers and to dehumanise and criminalise the victim. It does not matter how the Black person was killed.

The right-wing intelligentsia will try to frame them for their own murder. They will demonise and tar and feather the body, and problematise the dead person's choices in order to feed white supremacist talking points to their yapping audiences.

This while the mainstream liberal press will try to pass white supremacist bothsidesism off as objective journalism.

But these efforts work less effectively on most Black people. We can still see that a person is being killed. Killed arbitrarily, in broad daylight, and in the open. We see a family being killed. We see us being killed.

Still, Emmett Till's mother said leave the casket open.

Parallel to the radical desire for the protection of Black mental health and wellbeing runs the demand for the interruption in the regular procedure of sweeping Black corpses under the rug. To show their faces, #saytheirname, stay the broom. The discourse of white innocence and the notion of America's fundamental goodness are accomplices in white supremacist murder.

They work in tandem to quickly paint every incident of anti-Black violence as an exception to the rule. When this is persuasive, the anger is defused, and the incident no longer threatens to become a catalyst.

Mamie Till flung open the casket. In pain, she interrupted their arguments and forced a stop to the slow-walking of change.

It should not be assumed that all Black people who ask for the video not to be circulated are acting out of concern for Black mental wellbeing. Some of the loudest voices asking not to circulate the videos have made a career out of preaching the possible rehabilitation of the settler-colony. They too, do not want to be interrupted. Every open casket drops into their "HOPE" mugs and they recoil like an English lady finding a Hottentot's skull in her soup tureen.

These people know very well that Ahmaud was killed in February to absolute silence. They know that it was this very same video that led to the arrest of the killers, led some Black people to become genuinely fed up, led to #justiceforahmaud's trending, and led some to speak openly of revolution.

These people are whom Frantz Fanon, the pre-eminent theorist of the white supremacist settler-colony, called the colonised intellectuals. These are the Black academic influencers who are always nearer in proximity to white power than they let on. It is their task to compose the dull prose and type out the hot takes with which they intend to barricade the doors of the state against an incensed people.

It falls to them to convince the outraged natives that the abattoir in which they have been living - and which has not for one hour in the last 400 years churned out anything other than their misery - will one day spew out roses.

I have not made any determination about whether, in the end, it is good for this video to be out there or not - but I don't have to. It is not my decision to make. The decision about whether or not the video should be circulated (or whether it should have been published in the first place) rests with Ahmaud's loved ones. Only Ahmaud's loved ones.

But it is folly to think that bringing about the end to the circulation of videos depicting racist murder is an achievement. Whipping people in the privacy of the slave quarters rather than publicly against a plantation tree in front of the enslaved is not the victory we might think it is.

Enslavement in prisons and on prison farms is allowed to grow in size and atrocity because they are imagined to exist in some hidden away place, somewhere else. They are thought to be outside of society - even if they are located in the centre of Chicago. Hiding anti-Black atrocity from Black people is a poor substitute for ending anti-Black atrocity. Worse, it dulls our ability to see its full magnitude. If prisons were in the town square, their walls knocked down and their conditions and demographics were laid bare, there would be a Watts uprising every day.

It is also true that we must make a world where the photos of Mike Brown Jr's body left on the street for four hours inspires at least as great a bodily shudder as the mental image of a white person, say Shirley Temple, dangling from a lynching rope - an image many would find more disturbing. But that world is not made through silence. It is made through trauma.

The video, and the debate surrounding it has also, for me, revealed something about how I have been trained to see (and not see). It has taken me a while to recognise what is so clearly there in plain sight. The video is not a video of a Black person being killed.

The video is a record of a Black person fighting back despite being outnumbered and out-gunned. A Black person who fought back against the white supremacist culture that attacked him from nowhere and for no reason. It is a record of Ahmaud standing up, like Trayvon Martin, like Mike Brown, like Sandra Bland, like Eric Garner, like countless others who defended themselves against a murderous culture that has never in its existence been able to conceive of the noble, nor a fair fight.

It is disingenuous to pretend to know Ahmaud outside of the few seconds of tape that is circulating. We did not know him as he lived and so we cannot claim to know him in death. It is for this reason that it is crucial that we not reduce his life to his death. He lived and fought in that video. He lived and fought against overwhelming, unfair odds. In this, he embodied another tradition that has always run counter to white supremacist culture - resistance.

Ahmaud is not reducible to his death and the video is not merely or even primarily a record of his murder. It is a record of him outgunned, outnumbered, and valiant.

100 years ago, Ahmaud might have been the inspiration for Jamaican Harlemite Claude McKay's poem If We Must Die, written during the Red Summer of 1919:

"If we must die, let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot...

Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!"

The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera's editorial stance.

— Yannick Giovanni Marshall is an academic and scholar of African Studies.

[iobunny]

My Abuse Story - I Survived

(Let me know what to tag cuz i’m out of it right now.)

I'm going to write this post like I'm writing a diary entry, or typing it to someone who would read it. I don't mind if people read it or not, I just want to get this out there while I'm in the mood to talk about what happened to me. I've kept this bottled up for a long time from people, and, I think it's starting to take a toll on me. I just want to get this out there before I decide against it, and, maybe delete it afterwards. (Forgive me for any spelling/grammatical errors, and I'm sorry if it's too long and boring. ) (Some things will be left out because I refuse to even acknowledge them. I only feel comfortable of certain things I want to talk about... I'm sorry.)

Okay, cracks knuckles here we go...

I'm 21 years old. I'm 4'11, 76 lbs, and I suffer from OCD, anxiety, and depression. I like to draw and write, and being with my friends and my sister means everything to me. Someday, I want to be a forensic investigator or a paralegal. Psychology and crime really interest me, and still do to this day. I was in college, and I was just like any other college student. Worked, studied, being lazy and not studying or doing work when I was supposed to be, all of that good stuff. Then I met him...

He was 6'0, around 270 – 280 lbs. He was popular and had a lot of friends, and a lot of girls who admired him. He did a lot of sports, and exercised on his free time. He was attractive, and to top it off he had a good heart and an interesting sense of humour. I felt some sort of attraction toward him, and I remember staying up till 5am to talk to him about our opinions of the world, talking about random nerdy things like League of Legends, we would talk about almost everything! ...

The very next day, at 10pm while we were on Skype, I asked him out... and I remember the surprised, happy-puppy look on his face when he said yes...

… and that was when my life turned into some sort of sick horror movie...

I remember always wanting to interview a sociopath... and I got too much what I bargained for. I didn't realize I was dating one!

I remembered he threatened suicide a lot, and said how horrible he was, and I did my best to make him feel better and be there for him. I remember running away from home (wasn't 21 at the time) just to comfort him.

What I didn't realize at the time was, this was all just a ploy to see how far I would go to care for him. His brother, who is closer to him than anybody else was at the time, told me he likes to do things for a reaction. To see what they would do and how would they react to something unexpected, whether it was positive news or not.

I'm gonna cut to the chase because I'm getting bad thoughts.

He bullied me. He degraded me, and tore every inch of self-esteem I had. Every little spirit, every little smile, all of it gone. It felt like a hungry demonic wolf just ripped through my body and ate everything I had, and left nothing but a pathetic skeleton to piss on.

I remember him saying to me, “___ you're useless. You're nothing but a dirty fucking skank, I'm only doing YOU a favour by dating you because nobody wants to be with some anorexic fucking rat like you. You're not good at anything and you're a college dropout. I deserve so much better than to be with you, but I feel so much pity for you that I have to be with you. Plus, it's too late to break up with you at this point, because I don't want my time to be wasted.”

“You're only good for having sex, and you're not even good at that.”

“You're so fucking retarded holy shit, how did I end up with you?”

“If I knew you were going to be this way, I would have never even thought about dating you.”

“You're so fucking ugly, but you have a tight vagina and that's all I care about at this point.”

“You think anybody is gonna believe what I say to you? Everyone thinks you're a cheating whore, they would never believe you.”

“There's so many prettier and better girls out there, you're lucky I'm a faithful man and wouldn't cheat on you even though you would cheat on me in a heartbeat.” (Then he proceeded to show me the girls and their text messages towards him.)

I remember him beating me with a some weird, thick stick thing during the wintertime outside, because he wanted me to talk about my past relationship, and he covered my mouth when somebody walked by (this happened at nighttime, we were sitting on the hill from where his house was and his brother's girlfriend came home from work) and if he told me if I said any word to her, he would snap my neck right then and there. I pissed myself I was so scared. (I'm sorry for being gross, I was just so scared.)

I remember he drugged me and raped me. I remember waking up the next day feeling nothing like a used up toy. I felt like I wasn't good enough to be anything but just a personal fucktoy, and not even a good one at that.

He smothered me with a pillow, and I couldn't breathe and it was one of the scariest moments in my life. All I could think of was my family and friends, and how I would never see them again... and they would never know what happened to me. I was so scared to tell anyone because I was afraid he would find out and kill my family and friends.

I remember he told me, “If you ever tell anyone, I would kill all of your family members, kill your pets, kill you, then myself.”

He admitted to me he used to be a gang member with his “dad” (his father is a scumbag loser), he personally had to do awful shit to prove his worth, and I truly believe he killed someone before. He had some scars to prove it, both physically and mentally.

I remember feeling his big ass hands around my neck and just squeezing the life out of me. My throat still hurts sometimes, but I don't think it's because of that. I think it's because I get really nervous and I just can't breathe. I still have anxiety, but not because of that. I was born with it. I mean, it could be? But I have no clue. My rib cage still hurts when he sat on top of me, I still can't lay in certain positions because it would really hurt my breathing!

He told me several times how he would kill me. He would take me to one of the big forests his city had that no one really goes to unless you want to explore shit or do drugs, and he would first rape me, then strangle me, then rape my dead body and just leave me. I told him my mother would start to worry but he said she won't be able to do shit because he'll just have his friends “quiet” her. I told him the cops would find out but he lied saying he did it before and they don't give a shit because it happens all the time in the city. (I realize now it's just a lie because people WOULD suspect something, but I didn't believe it at the time. I was stupid. I'm still pretty stupid, but not that stupid.)

We had unprotected sex, he wanted to have kids with me, to prove to me that I was faithful and I would never cheat on him. I was completely brainwashed at this point. I was literally his slave and I would do anything for him, even steal or kill myself if he wanted me to.

I stole alcohol for him (was under-aged at the time) just so he won't be upset at me... I did anything I can to keep him happy. I was constantly stepping around eggshells to have him happy and not have him upset because I was scared we would fight, he would threaten to break up with me, and hurt me.

(Holy shit I don't even realize how shaky I feel typing all of this.... I feel like I'm gonan cry)

I was alone at the time, bcause he didnt want me to have any friends or wear makeup or any type of “showy” clothing. I was controlled, he sniffed me to make sure I dont smell like a guy either.

While plagying league, I happened to meet some people who would eventually be my lifesavers. They lived in virginia, and they were all college kids having fun in life. They were so successful, so talented, and I thought to myself, Man, I want to be like them someday.

Long story short (I feel to worke dup at this point to keep typing), they saved my life. I moved down to virginia and I'm currently living with one of my friends, who I really look up to. She's like my mom, because she cares more about me and my wellbeing than my own mother! (Don't get me wrong, I love my biological mother to death and she loves me so much to, however, she's kind of selfihs... and wants me to stay up in NY where all of this shit happened. She drove me to my ex's place and would rather have me there than in VA where i'm far away from her. She treats me nicely to and would do anything to provide for me, so she's not a bad mother. But she's just... yea... hard to explain.(

I love each and every one of my friends, they saved me and made me feel happy again!

I'm currently awaiting my schedule from my burger king manager so I can start working, i'm looking for other jobs in the meantime too. I'm basically starting all over again in another state, where I feel safe and cared about.

I still have paranoid thoughts that nobody cares about me and everyone hates me, but I try not to believe them and my friens will tell me they care about me to disprove of that. I still feel worthless, I'm still a slut (but I embaraced it! No slut shaming) and I'm still stupid. I'm a hopeless romantic, I still love crime and psychology, and I really hope to go back to school one day and maybe help other people to get out of abusive situations ASAP.

I didn't save ME. My friends saved me. I just wanted to die, I still do, but not as much. I don't really cut myself anymore, I still drink to cope with everything, but hopefully I'll end that. I'm taking anti-depressants, sometimes I hope the alcohol and meds mix up and I end up getitng sick or somehing, but, whatever. I hate myself, but I have friends who care about me and I look at them like they're family, and that's all that really matters. I would do anything for them, and I hope I'll get enough money and pay them for everything they've done for me. They taught me so many things, and we shared so many laughs and jokes and I really want the best for them. I can be obnixous, annoying, stupid, and just annoy the living shit out of them, and I hope I stop that soon. I weird them out when I thank them so much, but im just so grateful they saved me and I have people that care about me y'know? Its weird

even after all of this nonsense, I hope my  ex gets the help he needs because I dont want him hurting anyone else anymore. I dont want him to kill someone, or someone dealing with the shit I dealt with or even worse.

I remember he told me he was gonna lock me in his godmother's basement and force-feed me nails until my stomach pops with nails poking thru them. Then rape me and have me shit myself and rats come and eat me.

so... thats my story. Thats it. I feel like shit now and Im gonna drink. Thanks to those that read, sorry about this. Bye.

#angelart #tw rape #tw #tw: rape #rape #tw: abuse #abuse #tw abuse #abusive relationships #abusive relationship #mental disorder #tw mental disorders #tw mental disorder #mental disorders #my story #i will survive #thank u friends

[uncloseted]

Why do you think mental health is so bad in our generation ? I feel like so many teenagers/ young adults struggle with mental health disorders, and the older generations didn't as much.

This is a long and complicated topic, so I recommend making yourself a cup of tea because we’re going to be here a while.

The TL;DR is basically: mental health issues are more widely discussed and less stigmatized, easier to diagnose, and the criteria for diagnosis is broader than before.  As a generation, we have collective trauma from 9/11.  We’re inundated with bad news from all over the world 24/7, and feel a personal responsibility to fix those problems, but can’t.  We’re inundated with information about how all of our habits are evil and feel personally responsible for changing them, but there are too many options and nothing seems good enough or like it’s working.  We’re inundated with the idea that everything is awful and the world is ending, and feel like we should be doing things about it but can’t. We have FOMO about everything and are constantly comparing our normal selves against other people’s best selves.  We were raised by helicopter parents with high expectations, told we could do anything, and then felt that anything that goes wrong is our own personal failing instead of a failing of the system.  Student debt is out of control, there are no jobs, and the system isn’t supporting us.  Our lifestyles are not optimized for mental wellbeing.  We don’t know how to interact with people the same way we used to.  Mental illness has become trendy.  We’re not taught how to handle our mental health, and therapy isn’t widely accessible enough.

I’m going to go into more detail on all of these things below the cut, and if you want to talk more about any of them, send your thoughts and questions to the inbox!  I’m all ears.

I can only speak for the US, but I think it’s a couple of different things. The first is that mental health issues are more widely discussed, easier to diagnose, and less stigmatized than ever before.  So that means that a lot more people are getting diagnoses and talking about them publicly, whereas before maybe only 10% (I’m making that number up) of people with mental health conditions were diagnosed (and the rest were told that it was a moral failing), and of those people maybe only another fraction were willing to talk about it because it was so stigmatized (see: the moral failing thing).  The criteria for certain mental health issues is also broader than it used to be, and YMMV about whether or not you think that’s a good thing.

I also think that there’s a sort of “collective trauma” that comes with news of horrible things happening all over the world, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  For a lot of young people in the US, the September 11 attacks were our first real introduction to how terrible the world can be.  And those video clips were played over and over and over again, and I personally think that for children who can’t comprehend that it was a video being replayed (instead of the same thing happening again and again), I think that can be very traumatic.  Additionally, I think it felt like a very personal attack because the victims were civilians, and in our child brains, we latched onto the idea that this could happen to us. And from there we kept seeing images of things that we have no control over and can do nothing about.  

It used to be that the news you would get was mostly local, with some national news thrown in.  Local issues are things that you have power over changing.  You think there needs to be a stop sign at the intersection near your house?  Great!  Go talk to city hall about it.  But now, the news we get is from all over the world, and it all feels like our problem that we should be addressing, even if we have no way to do it.  Now the stop sign down the street and police violence in the closest major city and government scandals and genocide and refugees and chemical weapons and famine are all our problem, but we really only have control over one of those things.  So I think the powerlessness in the face of presumed responsibility causes a lot of anxiety as well.  There’s also a lot more fearmongering on the news and a sense that the world is going to end any day now that there wasn’t before.  For example, a lot of us were probably raised with “stranger danger” and “DARE” programs that make the world seem like a very scary place.  In actuality, a lot of things are getting better- but that makes for a very boring news hour.

Then there’s access to information outside of just news. The more information becomes widely available and easy to access, the more curtains get pulled back on the ineffectual or downright shady way things are often run.  In the past, you would just go to the store and buy what you wanted.  But now, there are lots of things we know we should be considering- are the chickens that laid these eggs tortured?  Were my clothes made my slave labor?  How much water am I wasting every time I get in the shower?  Again, I think it’s a crisis of responsibility, but this time it’s the feeling that if we don’t act responsibly, the world is going to end or we’re terribly immoral people.  Again, it’s that there’s too much to be responsible for and a feeling that we’re never doing enough or never doing it right.  And then I think there are a lot of catch-22s within that, where if you do something to fix one problem you’re creating another that’s just as bad.  And then the small things you can do feel fruitless, because climate change is still happening, companies still use child labor and people still eat animals.  So there’s a crisis of choice as well- there are too many options and it’s hard to know if you’ve picked the right one, especially when you’re constantly exposed to so many other people who are happy that they picked the other choice.  This applies to products and trying to be ethical but it’s also where FOMO comes from, and I think in any form the idea that we’re “missing out” causes stress.  On the topic of FOMO, there’s also the issue of social media.  Social media allows us to compare what we know about ourselves- all the messy, boring, human things- with an idealized version of everyone else, and that comparison can be damaging to self esteem.

Beyond that you have the world we were born into and the ways a lot of GenXers parented their children.  Again, we were given the idea of choice- you’re capable of doing anything you set your mind to.  Previously, your options for the future were sort of limited by a lot of outside factors.  But the idea that we could do anything is essentially a lie, because our future options are still mitigated by outside factors.  So there’s this personal responsibility assigned to the individual to be whatever they want, even when the reality is they can’t do that thing.  They just need to work harder.  I think this is where you can also talk about helicopter parents and the expectations that are put on children, but lots of people cleverer than I have written about that at length so I’m going to skip it.  The TL;DR of that is basically “helicopter parents are stressful,, didn’t teach us how to cope with failure, and children need rest time, not to be pressured into doing activities 24-7”.  Then there’s an expectation that we should be doing better than our parents- that we should go to college, get a job, and buy a house, and start a family by our mid twenties, but obviously with the student debt crisis, oversaturated job market, and various expenses our parents didn’t have to pay for, that’s not really a possibility.  But again, we’ve internalized this belief that it’s our fault and not the fault of the system.

There are also lifestyle issues that fit into this as well.  We have more access to calorically-dense, unhealthy food than ever before, and we move less.  We spend a lot of time in spaces that aren’t optimized for human happiness, and we’re expected to work (or attend school) on a schedule that’s not optimal, either.  On average, we don’t get enough sleep or take care of our health the way we should.  We don’t get enough downtime.  We don’t get enough face-to-face interaction with friends and family, and a lot of our socializing happens virtually, and many people live alone.  Humans are inherently social creatures, and isolation becomes a problem very quickly.  I think we’ve started having difficulty knowing how to interact with others the “right” way, especially now that the social scripts and expectations that used to be followed are no longer.  I think there’s a simultaneous anxiety about offending people or saying the wrong thing coupled with not knowing what the social script we’re meant to follow is.

I also think a smaller factor is how mental illness has become trendy and almost a badge of honor in some sections of the internet, especially among teenagers. This is something along the lines of “school is stressful so I totally have anxiety disorder just like Zoella”.  I think part of it is wanting an explanation to complex feelings besides “being a teenager sucks” and part of it is wanting to be like the people we look up to.  Either way, that might be why you’re hearing about mental illness more as well.  It’s a trendy topic for public figures to discuss because it makes them “accessible”, “real”, and “brave” and gives the illusion of depth, and then the people who look up to them want those traits as well.

And then I think the last thing is that mental health isn’t being treated, and we’re not taught how to interact with our mental health or manage it.  Getting a therapist in the US is difficult, and a lot of the ways that we’re traditionally taught to cope with stress, anxiety, or feelings of sadness are maladaptive.

[canaliculi]

The Fine Game of Nil

Gravity Falls

Bill/Ford

NC-17: Masturbation, consensual possession, masochism

Ever the caring and generous friend, Bill offers to give Ford a mental break while he's working on their dimension-bridging portal. Things get heated, pretty much literally.

Bill was beginning to suspect that he’d been duped. A flashlight clamped between his host’s teeth prevented the curses building in his throat from being released, though every now and then his lips would move around the metal cylinder, forming the phantom words. These words were not usually in any language humans could recreate, which only served to frustrate him more as the clumsy flesh humans deigned to call a mouth warped unsatisfactorily around the foreign phrases.

It had been a long time since the demon had been in full control of a borrowed body. Sure, he’d been in Sixer’s body before, but those were more-or-less supervised brainstorming sessions. Possession wasn’t something he had to do often, since Ford was always eager – more than eager, champing at the bit! – to do whatever it was Bill had decided needed doing. He engaged in it mostly to tease himself, give himself a taste of what was to come. All that sloshing fluid and squelching organ business was good fun! Bill had assumed that when he did get to take Ford’s body for a joyride it would actually be enjoyable.

This was not the case. Bill accepted that he had different standards for entertainment than most of the sentient lifeforms in this dimension, but he was pretty sure no one could have fun in his current position. Said position was deep in the mechanical guts of a quantum tunneling engine, on hands and knees in a tiny, cramped crawlspace using tiny, delicate tools on tiny, frustrating consoles in nearly impossible to reach places. As if reacting to his negative thoughts, one of his useless fingers twitched and he lost hold of a tool, an exasperated groan leaving his throat as the thing clanged around on its way to the floor.

There were reasons he made other people do his work for him – besides not having a corporeal form for himself – and this was definitely one of them. Sixer should be the one confined and irritated, all scrunched up in this miniscule area and reaching around blindly for some stupid wrench or whatever someone had made way too small. And he had been before, back when Bill was blissfully unaware what the term ‘aching joints’ entailed.

The demon wanted control, but he wasn’t one of those micromanagers; he would leave for days at a time, returning only when Ford had fallen asleep so they could play in the mindscape. The day to day minutiae of the physical world wasn’t something he was keen on following unless it was directly affecting him or his pet. Bill would keep an eye on everything – it was impossible not to – but didn’t find it worthwhile to intervene unless something was going seriously wrong. So up until this point, Ford and his buddy Fiddle-dick had done all the manual labor on the portal themselves.

Bill would have been perfectly content to keep things that way. While designing a dimension-bridging machine was exciting and fun, drawing up blueprints and slaving over equations, actually going about building the damn thing was decidedly not fun. As far as Bill was concerned, as soon as things switched into physical more than conceptual, he was out. Unfortunately, best-laid plans doing what they do, he’d been suckered into this bullshit.

He and Ford had a connection – a real one, not the emotional garbage the human tried to keep bottled up inside himself. Thanks to their deal, Bill was more acquainted with Sixer’s general mental and physical wellbeing than usual. Honestly, it could be annoying, like a fly wedged between two bricks. Mostly unnoticeable but constantly just there, and occasionally twitching and flailing around and causing them both discomfort. It was one of those squirming, writhing moments that had drug Bill’s attention away from the important things he’d been doing (he couldn’t remember them now, but everything he did was important) to Ford’s physical dimension.

Bill had found the man mentally and physically exhausted, his poor mammalian brain practically short circuiting. A brief stretch of awareness showed that the rest of the house was empty, Glasses having gone off to wherever he went when he wasn’t helping Ford. His little buddy was in the same space Bill was now occupying for him, diligently tinkering away, eyes bleary and barely focused. This was clearly a delicate situation.

“HIYA SIXER! Working HARD or HARDLY WORKING, am I RIGHT?” Ford had visibly flinched, flashlight dropping out of his mouth to clatter on the metal floor. Apparently, the human hadn’t noticed Bill’s arrival until the piercing voice echoed through his mind. Man, he must’ve been really out of it.

“B-Bill! How long have- what are you doing here?” the man stuttered out, sounding exhausted. His hand groped around for the flashlight.

“Just DROPPING BY to see how my FAVORITE GENIUS is doing!” Bill floated closer. “And if LOOKS are anything to go by, I’d say he’s about to DROP DEAD!” The demon laughed, but he did have a point. The circles under Ford’s eyes were so dark they resembled bruises, his untucked shirt was covered in wrinkles and smears of oil, and his hair was sticking up at strange angles. “I know they say don’t judge a BOOK by its COVER, but there’s a LIMIT, pal!”

It was clear that Ford wasn’t in the mood for the exuberant triangle’s mild ribbing, but he gave a half-hearted chuckled nonetheless. Leaving the flashlight where it lie, the human sat back and took his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes.

“It’s been a long day, Bill.”

“A long 34 hours, 42 minutes, and 25- no, 26 seconds, Sixer!” Sometimes it was amazing that Ford had survived as long as he had before he’d met Bill. “You’re only a COUPLE hours away from that STUNNING brain of yours going HAYWIRE! Which would be FUN to watch, but if you’re gonna start HALLUCINATING you shouldn’t do it in the middle of our work!” Ford looked embarrassed, and Bill had to fight to keep from rolling his eye. Sensitive, much? “I know you can’t HELP IT, Fordsy, it’s just biology! You know that too! So what the heck are you doing!”

“I…” Was that an attempt at conversation, or was Sixer just sighing? “We’re on a tight time frame right now.” Ford was sounding dangerously condescending. The man tempted a glance up, looking away again when he saw the glare aimed his way. “I know, I need to sleep, I’m exhausted, but I’m so close. I- we’re so close.”

If Bill possessed a heart to melt, it might have at least thawed a little at the man’s last statement, murmured more than spoken and heavy laden with unnamed emotion. As it was, he didn’t, but he felt slightly less agitated. After all, Ford was just doing what he thought he needed to do. And the man could be surprisingly stubborn when it came to building their portal – usually a trait Bill could appreciate, but there were times like this when it put everything in jeopardy.

“I’ll tell ya what, buddy,” Bill began, putting his arm around Ford’s shoulders. It was impossible to actually touch the man in this dimension – for now – but habits were hard to break. “Why don’t I take over from HERE? Lemme slip into that SKIN SUIT of yours and YOU can take a little breather!”

An unidentifiable emotion displayed itself on Ford’s face, maybe a mix between incredibility and relief and fondness and embarrassment. He replaced his glasses, self-consciously running a hand through his hair. “You don’t need to do that, really! I’m nearly finished-”

This was taking too long; Bill technically already had Ford’s permission to enter his body whenever he wished. The demon shoved his way into Sixer’s body, knocking the human’s consciousness out of it in the process. He was nearly overwhelmed by the influx of physical sensations, most of which were unpleasant. Over the white noise background, he could hear Ford sputtering protests about his actions, though the words came through blurred at the edges. Bill waved a six-fingered hand dismissively.

“Sixer, I got this,” he said, voice sounding rougher. The inside of Ford’s mouth felt like he’d been swallowing cotton balls for the past year. “I know you INSIDE and OUT, LITERALLY! I KNOW when you need a break!” He could see that Ford still wanted to argue about it. “Hey, I’m just giving you a helping hand! It’s what partners – friends – do, right?”

That was the ticket. Ford’s transparent arms uncrossed, and a shy smile came out. “You’re right, Bill.”

“Of COURSE I am! Don’t you worry that cute little head of yours! I’ll just finish up here LICKETY SPLIT and then we can skedaddle off to the MINDSCAPE for some well-deserved R and R!” They had shared a grin before Bill got to work. Ford had hovered in the background for a while, peering over his own borrowed shoulder before Bill had gotten irritated and shooed him off. No one helicopter-parented Bill Cipher!

And now Bill was stuck regretting his decision. He could feel the bones of Ford’s knees jamming together, pinching the delicate ligaments and cartilage between them. Shifting his weight from side to side wasn’t helping, either. At various points along his spine, the muscles were tensing and bunching together into painfully hard knocks, imbalances between his chest and back drawing his shoulders into a hunch every time he stopped paying attention to the body’s posture. It was a nightmare.

He just had to grit his teeth, and finish this last piece, and then he could slam this body onto a flat surface and escape to the mindscape. Never again became the mantra running through his head. This was all charity got you, a stress and sleep induced migraine! Bill piloted his body around, pulling himself free of the delicate tangle of wires and metal and out into semi-fresh air. It felt like a vice was loosened around his chest, and he idly wondered if he was claustrophobic or something.

Saving the thought for another time – or never, whichever – Bill pulled himself up to a standing position, practically wincing at the cacophony of crackling noises coming from all parts of Sixer’s body. Jeez, how long had the guy been in that position before Bill had come along? He rolled his neck from side to side, thinking about how much the human owed him for this, and walked over the main power generator. Halfway out of the room he had to pause as his vision suddenly split into doubles, eyes flickering as if they were rapidly crossing. Ford was really pushing his body this way, not just in terms of sleep deprivation, but also the chemical cocktail he’d poured into himself to keep awake and working.

Still, as annoying as it was that Ford would risk making idiot mistakes by fogging up his brain, Bill knew that he had at least another nine days before the man was in any real danger. Hell, Stanford probably knew that too, comforted himself with the thought every time standing brought a dizzying wave crashing over him. There was a phrase Ford could benefit from hearing, something about the Nile not just being a river.

The lights in the basement workshop flickered as the generator hummed to life. The strobing effect this caused did little and less to ease the headache throbbing at the base of his skull. Even so, Bill felt himself perk up when a quiet whirring noise joined the electric drone, signaling that at least something was going right. He stalked back over to the machine piece he had been working on, sickly yellow eyes glowing and searching for any possible complications. A distant rattling alerted him to one.

Oh, right, the wrench thing. When he hadn’t been able to easily lay a hand on it, he’d just left it in there, telling himself he’d get it later. Later had obviously come and gone, unheeded. Bill leveled a glare at the hunk of metal, blaming it for all his problems. He huffed and rolled his eyes, but that didn’t seem to accomplish anything. Accepting the finality of the situation, Bill dropped back down to a kneeling position, picking up the flashlight from where he’d – thankfully – left it near the opening.

The flashlight turned on with a satisfying click, and he aimed it into the dark depths of the machine. Leaning forward, he braced Ford’s forearm against the metal exterior, craning his neck to see if he could spot the tool and- oh. Bill jerked his arm back in surprise, a searing sensation scattering up and down the nerve endings all along the expanse of skin that had touched the iron. There was a slight smell of burnt flesh in the air.

Anger welled up inside his chest, throbbing in time to the burning in his arm, the rapid beating of his heart. He shot to his feet, marching back to the generator and heatedly switching it off. Hot, stinging pain was radiating from the wound in pulses. Bill brought his arm up, bending and twisting it to peer at the angry red splotch. It covered nearly the length of his forearm, and Ford wasn’t going to be super ecstatic about finding it.

Well, this was his fault, wasn’t it! Ford was the one that sleep-addled his own brain and then forced Bill to climb inside it. And who rolls their sleeves up when they’re working on science stuff! That was one of the first rules of 8th grade lab. Sally didn’t wear long sleeves and now she doesn’t have to because her arms are melted puddles of human trash. His internal tirade continued as he climbed the stairs, torn between wanting to stomp and not-wanting to alert Ford – wherever that nerd was hovering – to his current embarrassing predicament.

Bill jerked the cold water tap on and thrust his injured arm under the freezing stream. The pain seemed to recede quickly, but every time he pulled it out of the water the heat inside the wound would inexorably begin to climb again, hotter and hotter, crawling across his abused flesh like the jittery legs of tap-dancing spiders. After a few games of back and forth, Bill let out a frustrated growl and wrenched the tap off again, tromping into the living room and dropping bodily into Sixer’s favorite lounge chair.

His arms hung over the sides of the armrests, and for a while Bill was content to seethe and stare into the dark room. Stupid Sixer. Stupid portal – no wait, brilliant portal, stupid human. Stanford Pines. Bill was beginning to calm down. He lifted his left arm, examining the burn once more. It didn’t even look bad; just a bright, shiny red patch of skin, vaguely rectangular in shape. As if in response, a dull throb of hot, searing, burning slipped out, and his body shivered.

Huh. Shivered.

The demon had been so distracted by his own emotional reaction that most of the minutiae of the actual physical response had been lost to him. He hovered his right hand above the raw flesh, feeling heat radiate off. He placed his fingers against the undamaged flesh bordering the burn, steadily adding pressure, and felt his heartrate quicken as the action pulled at the tight skin. Easing up, he ghosted his fingers gently across his skin, barely brushing along the surface, and ran them over the edges of the wound.

Bill sucked in a gasp of air at the sensation, shifting his hips, suddenly uncomfortable in the chair. He repeated the action again and again, fingers tantalizingly light against the sensitive flesh. The feeling was like electricity, sending shudders wracking through his body. On the next graze, he turned his fingers to let his nails rake along the enflamed skin, and he nearly had to stifle a moan. Panting, he paused in his ministrations, pulling his hand away and traveling southward to where Ford’s cock was hard, straining against his pants.

He licked his lips, running his fingers up and down the clothed length. Ford would disapprove. Ford wouldn’t stop him. He pressed the flushed head against his stomach, hissing at the delicious contact. And what Ford didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Bill popped the button of his pants open with a deft flick of his thumb and spread his thighs. There was already a damp spot on the boxer briefs where the tip of his cock was steadily leaking precum.

It was an awkward position but he made do, shuffling to pull Ford’s dick out. The demon let out a shaky breath as he fisted the hot flesh, dragging his hand up and down and back up, thumbing at his slit. His toes curled in his boots. He let go, brought his hand back to his injury and scratched down the center, startling himself when his hips jerked forward and a groan slipped out of his mouth.

Bill tossed his head back, hitting the back of the chair with a muffled thud. His eyes slid closed and he slipped two fingers into his mouth, sucking and laving at the digits with his tongue. He turned his injured arm down to face the armrest, pressing and rubbing his wound against it as he glided his fingers in and out, hips giving aborted thrusts in a bid for stimulation. Bill pulled his fingers out, ignoring the string of saliva stretching between them and his lips, and licked down the center of his palm before bringing his hand back down to his straining cock, wrapping the now slicked appendage around himself.

Hot, hot, everything was hot. His face was flushed and heat pooled low in his belly as he fucked his own hand. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he found himself letting out stuttering, breathy moans. His entire body felt taunt and blisteringly hot, and his injured arm felt like it was engulfed in flame itself, a bright cacophony of searing, scorching, stinging, biting pain.

His right hand still moving, frantically jerking up and down, Bill yanked his left arm off the armrest, pulled it up to face. He licked against his own flesh, moaning loudly, traced patterns against the raw and burning skin. Close, he was so close. His teeth grazed against the overly sensitive wound, igniting sparks behind his eyes. He bit down in the middle of it, where it burned deepest, teeth sinking into tight, hot flesh, and his brain short circuited. Bill came all over his hand with a cry muffled against his arm, wringing his orgasm out over and over until his body sagged, utterly spent.

For a few long moments, the effort it would take to move any of his now limp muscles felt insurmountable. Or at the very least, not worth surmounting. There was something pleasant about drifting, and Bill didn’t want to break the sensation by moving even one fraction of an inch. All the tight points of pressure along his spine seemed to have loosened, and Bill could only sporadically think Ford should probably do this more often. His breathing steadied, deepening. He could feel his heart gradually stop racing, slow to a dull, rhythmic thumping that echoed in his ears.

Eventually, discomfort began to set in as well. His right hand, which had fallen away from his crotch, was sticky, covered in the milky pearlescence of Ford’s release. Some streaks of it had also arced up to stain Sixer’s shirt. Whoops. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the six-fingered hand against the rough material of his jeans, twisting his fingers to clean off as much of the goop as he could. What he couldn’t brush off, he brought up to his mouth and licked clean. The exhaustion in Ford’s body seemed to have doubled or tripled, making his movement sluggish and sloppy.

Bill had half a mind to leave Ford’s body right where it lie, and let the man deal with it when he had to join the waking world again. It would serve him right, for putting Bill in this situation to begin with. But the demon had to admit, his actions had been self-indulgent, even for his standards, and as funny as the idea of Sixer waking up to this mess was, he’d prefer the human not know about this. If he didn’t already.

The demon stood, tucked himself back into his pants rather carelessly, and headed up the stairs to Sixer’s bedroom. There was still no sign of his pal’s incorporeal self anyway, and he if had more brain power to devote to the matter he would wonder what exactly the man was getting up to. As it was, being in this body felt like it was draining him, and he hardly had the mental capacity to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Every few steps his arm would throb in a decidedly distracting manner, begging him to run a finger or nail against it.

Trying to dissuade himself from indulging his urges, Bill attempted to picture the face Ford would make if he’d seen what Bill had done in his body. The scandalized expression his mind conjured up only made him want to give into the impulse more, to see what Sixer would do when he inevitably came looking for the demon and his body. Pathetic. The hormone soup he found himself mired in must be affecting him more than he’d wagered.

Upon reaching Ford’s bedroom – decorated in an eclectic mix of mathematics and science fiction – Bill immediately began peeling off the layers of his clothing, eyes narrowing in distaste. When had he sweat so much? Sixer’s dick was half hard again. Bill blamed this on him. He steadfastly ignored it, ignored everything in favor of flopping face first onto the bed. His limbs flailed briefly, covering about a third of Stanford’s body with a blanket before the demon practically fled from the physical world, his triangular form emerging from the now unconscious man.

Well! That was certainly something. Bill was already feeling more clearheaded. Using the mental equivalent of a butterfly net, the demon reached out and scooped up Ford’s consciousness – the man was disturbingly close-by – and dragged them both to the mindscape.

#status!tag: complete #f!tag: GF

[starstruckcloudgalaxy]

I hope you’re keeping well and safe at home, dear friends; I know, the Easter weekend is coming up and the weather is nice, but we’ll have to sit this one out and stay in if we don’t want to risk our own lives and those of many others. So, I’ve been thinking of more tips to give you on what to do at home in order to keep happy and healthy; and the term ‘wellness’, which has been very popular in recent years, came to my mind. So what exactly is ‘wellness’?

The term has actually been around since the late 1940s, meaning feeling well all around – physically, mentally and socially. No need to say that some big parts of this concept are out of order right now: you can’t go out and meet your friends or even your family, you can’t go to the gym or the swimming pool, and let’s be honest, we’re all a bit on edge psychologically both with all those changes to our everyday lives and with the dreadful news we keep hearing all day about deaths and shortage of doctors and hospital beds and more deaths to come.

Still, there are lots of things we can do to make us feel better in all three sectors, even in these strange days – so let’s start with a combination of the physical and the psychological aspect of wellness: activities involving both your body and your mind.

  Dance!

As I’ve told you, dear friends, I’m not exactly the sporty type, so I can’t give you too many tips on how to keep fit indoors; the obvious things are stretching and aerobics (there are lots of videos for that which you can follow on YouTube), running up and down the stairs in your house or apartment building, and – dancing! And it’s got a double function: it gives you the necessary exercise, and the music will cheer you up as well.

So put on a CD, or have a look on YouTube for some hot music with a great rhythm to dance to – be it some good old rock n roll, or disco, or even an old-fashioned Charleston! Just move any way you like, or try to remember some exercises from your PE days at school… Here’s my all-time favourite ‘exercise song’ – doesn’t that just make your feet and body itch?!

  Relax in a hot bath

At the core of many of today’s interpretations of ‘wellness’ is spoiling your body – and there are few better ways of relaxing that having a bath. Just get a bottle of foam bath from the supermarket which will give amazing satisfaction not only to your skin but also your nose – aromatherapy is an important part of a good bath, it’s not only about cleaning yourself up!

While you’re there feeling wonderfully light in the warm water, you’ll have time to collect your thoughts; but do avoid thinking about the latest Coronavirus news, please… There are so many beautiful things to think about; your last summer holiday, or the romantic movie you watched last night – or simply absorb the feeling of your body relaxing and the lovely smell of lavender or rosemary. You’ll feel like new when you’ll get out of the tub!

Unfortunately, not everybody’s got the luxury of a bathtub at home; but you can still enjoy a long hot shower, spoiling yourselves with a delicious shower cream, and you can also boost your blood circulation with a little Kneipp cure. What’s that, you ask? Well, it’s one of the best things my upbringing in Germany taught me, a water treatment method named after the 19th century pioneer of alternative medicine, Sebastian Kneipp: alternating hot and cold showers, starting with your legs and arms and then moving on to the rest of your body. It’ll make you fit as a flea in no time!

  Having a massage

Another popular feature of ‘wellness holidays’ on fitness farms and of spas and water parks is providing a massage service for customers; and it’s another thing you can do perfectly well at home. The ideal situation is, of course, to have someone with you who can massage you and vice versa; all you’ve got to do is look up the basics of a massage online, there’s no need to become a professional masseur or masseuse… Here’s one I find very helpful and informative:

https://www.wikihow.com/Give-a-Full-Body-Massage

Again, there are many people who are currently all on their own, with no one to massage them – but that doesn’t mean you can’t get your body massage as well! You can do it yourself, and here’s how:

https://www.wikihow.com/Massage-Yourself

  Meditation – just think positive!

I must confess I’ve never really been into yoga and all those other popular ways of meditation; if you want to learn some yoga techniques, there are plenty of videos on YouTube for you. My own way of gathering my thoughts is based more on the psychological principle of directed thinking and positive thinking. How to do that? It’s really quite simple: you can STEER your thoughts, there’s no need to be a slave to them; and especially in difficult times, when your brain is being bombarded by bad news, you can force yourself by sheer willpower to think of something positive.

Get hold of a negative thought that keeps going around in your mind; like, for example ‘I can’t even go on an Easter trip because of this lockdown’. Then, start a positive counterattack: think of your last holiday and the great time you had – picture the green hills of Ireland, or the beaches of Greece, or the casinos of Las Vegas you saw, or even look through your photos and at the souvenirs on the bookshelf. Then, concentrate on your next holiday, whenever that may be – where are you planning to go? Look it up on the internet, look at the photos and videos and other people’s travel reports – and reassure yourselves that you ARE going to go there, too, some day. Now that’s a goal, isn’t it?

Cooking

Since deliveries aren’t really an everyday option for most of us, we’ve all got to cook at home these days, anyway, so we might just as well enjoy it… Like my daughter Marianna, who until recently hardly knew how to do a pancake or a pot of spaghetti – now that she’s all on her own in our flat in Piraeus, she’s learning new recipes every day, and she loves it! No matter whether you hardly did any cooking until now, or just the necessary, or whether you’re a hobby cook anyway – this is a great time for trying out new things in the kitchen.

Simple things like sandwiches or pasta sauces can bring endless fun with new variations (I’ve already put together some recipes for those two categories, you can look them up on my blog; and there’s more to come soon), and there are lots of cookery programmes on TV every day where you can learn even more – some of them combine cooking and travelling, too, so you can explore Italy with the Hairy Bikers or France with Rick Stein without having to leave the safety of your flat – and without paying a penny for the journey!

  Play games

I’ve pointed out before on my blog how important it is to play a game once in a while, but this goes double, of course, in our present days of lockdown. The good old board games, like Scrabble, Cluedo, Trivial Pursuit, Draughts or Snakes and Ladders bring everybody in your household together in neverending hours of fun! And if you don’t happen to have any of those at home, you’ll at least be able to obtain a deck of cards from the newsagent to play some Poker or Canasta – and if you’ve never played any card games before, you can always look up the rules of one online! Here’s a very simple one I used to play with my family back in Germany when I was a kid:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mau-Mau_(card_game)

If you’re alone, of course, the only pal you’ve got to play with is your laptop, tablet or smartphone – but even that can provide hours and hours of fun and entertainment! There are countless free games you can play online or download for free – want to build a farm or a town, or even an empire? Want to combat dragons or zombies? Want to solve puzzles or mysteries? You’ll find literally EVERYTHING on the Web. And you can even play with other players online and get to know new people that way!

  Have a drink!

Let’s face it: this is NOT the right time to quit drinking. Unless you’ve always been a teetotaller or haven’t had a drink in years, you’ll probably all feel an enhanced need for a drink in these trying days – especially after the evening news. So, let’s not develop a guilty conscience about it: it’s not our fault, and we’ll all go back to normal once this crisis is over, because we’ll have the willpower to do it.

Try to keep a lid on it, though, because too much drink can lead to depressions, or to rows with your partner or flatmates. And don’t just knock it back like a bitter medicine – enjoy it, and experiment with it, try out new cocktails and mixtures, make it a part of your effort to cheer yourselves and others up during these dark days! And another tip: diluting alcoholic drinks with soft drinks like lemonade, cola or soda water makes them last longer and less dangerous.

Watch a funny programme

Comedy isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but this isn’t the time for gloomy melodrama either. No matter whether – like me – you’re perfectly satisfied with any sort of nonsense from “Carry On” to “Father Ted” (both of which are regularly shown on British Freeview TV), or whether you expect something at least as sophisticated as an Oscar Wilde play, it’s important these days that you choose something for your evening entertainment that’s at least in some way uplifting. There’s nothing wrong with a good laugh and a happy ending, and we all need it more than ever!

Especially over Easter, British TV channels are making a real effort to entertain us all day long, so we won’t miss our trips and walks too much; you can check the programme here any time:

https://www.tvguide.co.uk/

And here’s an online guide for my American friends:

https://www.ontvtonight.com/guide/

So, look out for those comedy programmes, dear friends!

  Talk!

This is the social aspect of wellbeing, and the maybe MOST important thing to take us through this pandemic: talking to people. Talk with your loved ones about how you feel, ask them how they feel, cheer them up, laugh with them, until you and they forget about the grimness of the situation. Keeping your thoughts and feelings to yourself is the worst thing you can do; your brain will start going around in circles, and depression will set in. Share your hopes and fears, your worries and dreams, your inner self with someone, and you’ll immediately feel better.

Being in lockdown with your partner and/or children or a good friend is, of course, the ideal thing – I find it unbelievable how many couples are fighting these days because they’re cooped up together, instead of being happy and thankful that they’ve got someone to hold on to! While there’s lots of less fortunate people who are all on their own right now – but even for them it’s perfectly possible to talk, even in lockdown…

Thanks to our modern technology, we’ve now not only got the phone to talk to our loved ones who are far away from us, but also video calls, messaging, emails and so on – so nobody really is alone! And even if you can’t think of anybody to ring up or send an email to – why don’t you sign up to a social media site if you aren’t on one already? You’ll get to know lots of nice people in no time, you’ll find other lonely people who are looking for someone to talk to, you’ll find people with similar interests – and you won’t feel lonely anymore!

Those are my tips for you, dear friends, for achieving this marvellous thing called ‘wellness’; there are so many different ways of feeling happy, you’ve only got to find the ones that work for you. And if you find a new one, I’d love to hear about it in the comments – we can learn so much from each other!

Discover wellness: Spoil yourselves during lockdown! I hope you’re keeping well and safe at home, dear friends; I know, the Easter weekend is coming up and the weather is nice, but we’ll have to sit this one out and stay in if we don’t want to risk our own lives and those of many others.

#Cheer Up #Fun #Home #Lifestyle #Lockdown #Psychology #Stay Home #Wellness

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Frustration

I thought I figured out exactly what frustrated me with my mother’s partners being in the house all the time. But we’re here again with a different guy, simple and respectful, but doesn’t do his part around the house:

The sink would be empty but he’ll just leave his stuff on the side as if everyone’s duty is to clean up after him. 

I’ve never seen him in the kitchen helping my mum even after she complains that she’s tired from work.

These may seem to be minor things but the way my mum shouts and complains to my brothers and I about cleaning up after ourselves and not preparing food at a Godly hour angers me so much. We’ve even had mini family meetings where we had to address the fact that people had to keep the kitchen clean. And my mum has made it very clear that she doesn’t care if my brothers and I have eaten because she’s tired from work and we should have prepared food for HER by this time. She says all of this but will rush to the kitchen at 7.30pm after work to cook a whole meal for her boyfriedns who has been in the house the whole day... She doesnt care that her children (one who is 14 years old) hasn’t eat PROPERLY, as in a well balanced meal, but will slave away in the kitchen to ensure her boyfriend has had a full satisfying meal. To which he repays her by leaving all the dishes NEXT TO the skin for her to come back and clean.

The first issues I had with my mum’s partners was the space they took up. Being the eldest and my mum always at work, I am very comportable in my house to walk around looking like a tramp. But when there are ‘visitors’ it’s impossible to be comfortable like that. What I wear and the space I demand is now controlled because I dont want to look like a mad women infront of someone i dont know. 

I also hated guys that would come into the house and demand authority and start making changes. SOrry, but this is not your house and not your family to come and dictate what’s happening. My own mother doesnt even have that right with me. It definelty threatens my role in the house as the second parent which im not willing to give up to someone what doesnt understand the people in this family. 

And finally, i hated that my mum had someone she could bitch about my brother and I to. The fact that she feels comfotabe enough to bash me to someone is one thing but in the same house im in is so harsh. Im not deaf and Ive brought this up to her before but she cant help it. 

I now realise that my main issue is definely with my mother and the way she treats me. If i’m being completely honest, I’m mad at who she is as a mother but im more frustrated with myself because i havent spoken to her about it for her to actually change. I think im very comfortable being mad at her becuase of everyhting that had happened. But in this present moment im against almost every way she is chosing to go about taking care of her children. How can you say you dont care if we have eaten - bare in mind my brother is extremely malnurished and extremly skinny at the moment. Yes he is 19 and should be capable of cooking for himslef but his mental state and the issues surrounding that has him neglecting him health. Instead of actively working to encourage him to take care of himself she choses to get angry and shout. But hte next day when her boyfirend comes over she is al for going to the kitchen to prepare him food. even ake up early enough to make a full breakfast loooool. would she ever could to this length to ensure the health and wellbeing of her phyiscally and mentally ill son? See, Im old and mature enough to take care of myself but i fear for my yougest 14year old brother who doesnt have a routine or even seen the importance of a healthy diet. It’s very frustrating!

As well as this, Im so sad to see the example my mum sets for my brothers through the way she treats her boyfriends. My brothers see that when a man is in a house with a female, regardless if she works more days and longer ours than the man, it is still her duty/responsibilty to cater to the man, to cook and clean after the man. Now this alone is problamatic BUT the fact that he sits their so comfortably - never giving a helping hand or showing sympathy gets me so mad. My uncle `(on my mums side) is what i would hope my brothers look up to - supportive, ALWAYS giving a helping hand, never ever sitting around while his wife is working, never. I dont think ive ever seen his wife bring him food like that either. not to say it doesnt happen but he just doesnt seem like the type to wait around for it. My dad used to be (and probably still is) that bad example. But he has always taught my brothers the imprtance of cleanliness, organisation and being self sophiciant. He’s an amazing cook, always looks sharp and put together but the man and female dynamic is the only thing that im not sure about with him. When we used to live together he was very much that man that belived women belonged in the kitchen and shouldnt get a job and he always wanted all the control over everyone. I cant say how much thats changed because i dont live with him but i know he sees the issues with it especially now that im grown and he knows im not very domestic but im very bright. the idea of me not being allowed to go to school or have a career would infureate him now actually.

to close off this thought. I dont like the idea of demanding space in a place they dont contribute to. and i dont feel loved unconditionally by my mother - i dont think she loves unconditionally. she has alot against my brothers and i, especially me. probaly feels unappricated but the only way we can more foward is if its addressed..

im afraid to address it:

i find out all she hates about me

ill insult her mortherhood o shell be defensve

i dotn want her to be anxious around me because then itll always be awkard

i dont trust her to keep anything to herself

theres is too much to say so she’ll just think im attacking her

dont want ot hurt her feelings

i’ll cry

ill forget imprtant things

[naturalhairjunkies]

New Post has been published on http://www.naturalhairjunkies.com/start-the-year-with-a-quiet-spirit/

Start The Year With a Quiet Spirit

Happy, Happy New Year! It’s officially 2017!!

Congratulations, you have officially and successfully made it through another year, You did it!! Whether you ran through the finish line or you crawled through. You have finished.

It’s time to set the pace for how we want the year to go. It’s time to start setting new goals, stepping out of your comfort zone and acquiring more peace than you had before. Choose to start this year with a quiet spirit… I’ll explain.

It’s 2017. We’re fully adulting. Working, going to school and taking care of our kid(s). Life is almost always chaotic and fast paced. And when we’re constantly moving and living in chaos; it tends to be a breeding ground for stress, self doubt and health issues. Personally, I’ve learned that the more that we are constantly moving and neglecting ourselves; the more likely we are to become overwhelmed. Which leads to terrible sleeping and eating habits, anxiety, health issues, stress and depression.

So let’s choose to set the tone for our spirit too; to get us through another year.

By starting the year with a quiet spirit, it gives you a chance to look at life through a perspective different from your norm. You can change your pace, in order to slow down and admire the trees, the sun and the clouds without feeling guilty. You can find a reason to be a thankful in the middle of chaos… it’ll also help you create a protective barrier that will always you to always be great regardless of what’s happening around you.

Last year, I did a great job setting the pace for the year. I was at peace no matter what was going on around me. I was always awesome, smiling and happy. However, towards the end of the year, I allowed myself to get overwhelmed by life and forgot my protective barrier. I forgot peace. I forgot to take time out to breathe in fresh air. I allowed myself, unkowingly, to drown in the chaos. I was beginning to doubt myself as a parent and as a woman. I began to question every choice that I had made and I was I increasingly becoming more insecure. I cried way more than I laughed. I was on the brink of total unhappiness.

 And I really didn’t notice until it was pointed out to me. And for that, I am truly thankful.

I took a few days to reflect on the past year. The major life changing choices I made (ending a relationship, changing my major, returning to the site; etc); mistakes I made, and what I wanted for my life and also  adjusted my expectations for everything (school, relationships, family and self.) I allowed myself two beautiful days of silence. I had to change my “limits”. I had to evaluate what I am willing to tolerate, my deal breakers, and just what I wanted out of life. I refuse to be a robot or slave to this society. I won’t allow society to take from me.

Writing, reading and just preparing myself for the year ahead. I decided to choose me first. I deserved that. No one would concern themselves with my wellbeing the way that I would.  And it was about time that I started functioning that way.

In that moment, I realized what I had done.

During that down time, I prayed a lot. Found my planner, took some time to review my month ahead. I was able to clean house (mentally) and I was finally able to stop beating myself up over things that truly aren’t my fault. I was able to find peace in that silence and confidence in my faith and space in this world. I realized that by quieting my spirit I was prepared to conquer anything that might come onto my path.. without allowing it to devour me. I was able to recharge and give myself a chance. I deserved that.

Life. It happens whether you’re ready or not. It keeps moving regardless of how fast or slow YOU want it go. I have decided that I will only worry myself about the things I can control, and anything else? Is just not my business.

Choose

Choose to start this year with a clean slate. Do not bring your past failures into your future. Move confidently  at your own pace and always do what you feel is best, 2016 was a rough and humbling year for many.. Do not feel discouraged. Every failure is a set up for an even better come back!

#blocking our own blessings #faith #fear not #God #God First #God's Love #have faith #making our own way #natural hair #Natural Hair Junkies #naturalhairjunkies #paying attention to God speak #product review #Trust God