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propertyofhenrywinter · 8 months

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Long live all the mountains we moved

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Summary: the aftermath of a crash equals more hurt comfort (can be read as a second part to Long live the walls we crashed through, but also on its own. This ofc isn’t proofread)

WC: 3.2k

Max knew you would be cross with him is you knew he was blaming himself, but he just really felt the need to whelm in his self-pity for a while. For a second he justified this by thinking that you would feel the same if the roles where reversed. That thought however was soon discarded because he knew that if it had been him getting hurt on track you would’ve stood your ground firmer and insisted he’d get checked out. ‘It really is my fault,’ he thought. ‘It is my job to protect her. I should have listened to my gut.’

If max was honest with himself, he had realized something was wrong. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what, but something in the way you had caried yourself while talking to the team and other drivers made him feel uneasy. By the time you had chatted with everyone who had wanted to see were okay with their own eyes none of them had thought to have a medic make sure you were completely fine. He didn’t understand their exact reasoning, maybe it had just slipped their mind or maybe they had genuinely believed you were fine, but he had thought about it almost immediately after he had let you go from his side, and he hadn’t stopped think about it while you had been driving away from the track. Now he wished he would’ve been more persistent about bringing you to a hospital, because he had known well enough that you weren’t fine, no matter how hard you had tried to convince him otherwise.

“I just want to go home, Max. Please.” You looked at him pleading and your voice sounded defeated. “I want to take a shower with you, just a shower,” a pointed look was added, “and then I want to cuddle up with you in bed while watching one of my comfort movies and eat ice cream right out the tub. And then fall asleep before the movie ends. And tomorrow we will do the same thing or maybe you could read a bit to me if I’m feeling to soar to do it myself,” she rattled off. “If your feeling soar you should see a doctor,” Max responded sharply, but he had known that the matter was settled and you two would do exactly as you had said.

Of course, it hadn’t gone as you planned. Max had already noticed you had looked worse when you got home than you had at the track, but he shrugged it off, thinking you were probably just tired, and your body need some rest after undergoing the G-forces it did during the crash. By the time you two had made your way to the bathroom he noticed you really weren’t walk normally. “Love,” he started soft, trying one last time to talk some sense into you. “No, please, Max,” you had sounded so breakable with your voice no louder than a whisper. It broke him to see you hurt, so he had let it go although he knew he shouldn’t have.

All hell broke lose when you had tried to take your shirt off. You had only wanted to lift your arm over your head before you had crumbled to the ground, letting out a blood-curdling scream. Max had been next to you in less than a second. He had been trying to figure out what was wrong precisely, but when he had noticed you were on the verge of unconsciousness he had just scooped you up in his arms and put you in his car to speed off to the hospital.

He had no regard for the traffic rules on his way, and although he had thought of calling an ambulance he had known that that would take way longer. While you were drifting in and out of consciousness he thought that he should talk to you. Tell you something encouraging maybe, but he just couldn't bring himself to open his mouth, afraid that any sound but the roaring of the engine and the struggle of your breath would make all of this too real.

When the hospital was less than two minutes away you awoke once again, but instead of the almost inaudible wail of pain he expected to hear again, this time you started coughing like crazy. Max had sworn his heart stopped when he saw you were coughing up blood.

The bright lights in the hospital made the contrast between the dark roads outside even more striking. In the car it had been quiet, just you and him. At the hospital it had been bustling with sounds and people, and you had been ripped out of his arms almost the second he walked trough the double swing doors. In a way he was sad he had reached the hospital, because as long as you were driving he could tell himself that he was doing what he could, while also having you at arm’s length next to him.

As soon as you were pried away by the emergency room staff members a doctor had started asking him more questions than he had believed could be necessary. He had answered them in a haze and before he good and well realized it the doctor had disappeared into the operation room where he had been told you also would be. That’s how he found himself sitting in a waiting area a nurse with dark skin, but light hair had brought him to. There he sat spiralling down in his own guilt.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there when the doctor who had asked him all those questions walked up to him. ‘How is she,’ he almost heard himself ask it, but he couldn’t’ bring himself to actually form the words, too afraid of what the answer might be. Before the silence reached a significant amount of time he heard the doctor. “Your partner will be alright, Mr. Verstappen. I assume her rib was fractured during the crash and when she tried to lift her arm a splinter moved and punctured her lung causing the worst of the damage she suffers. We fixed that during the operation. We also ran a full body x-ray and constated she also broke her left wrist and fibula and of course two of her ribs.” Max listened to the long list of injuries and despite the feeling of despair for your hurt he wondered just how stubborn you had to be not to get check by a medic, because he knew that all those breaks must have been hurting every time you moved. That was before the doctor saw the confusion in is eyes and added: ‘I also assume that an extreme amount of adrenaline was released right before and after the crash. That would explain why she hadn’t felt anything before her rib moved.” After that was clarified only one question rested him: “When can I see her?”

On his way to your room doctor questions, as Max had been calling him in his head, explained that you were still asleep and probably would be for the next hours, maybe even a full day, but that once you were awake and had done a couple of simple short test you would be allowed to go home quickly. “I don’t expect her to have to stay more than two full days,” he had concluded.

When he entered the room it felt like his long got puncture as well, seeing you so pale in bed with your foot and arm in a cast and a bag with clear liquid attached to your arm with an IV. He looked at the clock and saw it was almost morning. He wondered just how long it would take you to open your eyes, because he doesn’t want to wait a full day.

A nurse, an older woman with grey hair this time, came in to check your vitals and also informed Max that he was allowed to stay with you. Once she left he felt in his pocket to see if he had brought his phone with him. To his delight he had. He opened it so he could start informing everyone who needed to know, but the moment his screen lit up he could see he had a ton of missed calls and messages. It took him a while to figure out what was going on, but when he opened a text message from Charles it became clear. Turns out someone had seen him speeding down the streets to the hospital. Max felt a sliver of relieve when he saw your face wasn’t visible in any of the pictures of his car or when he was carrying you inside, but that didn’t change the fact it was disgusting people took and shared those pictures or that it was clear it was you. Some trashy news sites had even already wrote articles. He didn’t bother opening them. There was probably nothing true in them anyway.

He responded to Charles, explaining what had happened. Afterwards he simply copied and pasted that text and send it to everyone who he felt deserved to know. Almost exactly when he was finished his phone rang. It was Charles. Max contemplated picking up, but ultimately decided that since he would be stuck here for a while it couldn’t hurt to hear him out before he returned to the bottom of the mental ditch he had been digging himself in the waiting room.

If Max had thought the doctor had asked him a lot of questions, Charles must have simply impressed him by how long his list was. The Dutchman was tired mentally and physically, so he didn’t put up a fight answering him. Only when the questions were about how he was doing he resorted to one-word answers. Without giving Max a chance to protest, and he really wanted to protest, he had decided he was going to call the hospital to see when visiting hours were and come over as soon as he could.

He didn’t have to wait to long before the man who he had had on the phone only a few hours ago strode into the room as if he was coming to visit them to celebrate a birthday. Much to his dismay Charles seemed to have brought half of all the people he knew. “The more the merrier,” Charles had exclaimed a little to cheery. “It’s a hospital it’s not supposed to be ‘merry,’” Max growled.

He won’t ever admit it, but it helped that there were a lot of people around. Firstly, because that meant he could be mad at them instead of himself and secondly because it distracted him from your seemingly lifeless body in the bed, although you had regained a little colour since he first walked in. Out of everyone he might have been most grateful for George’s presence. He definitely didn’t think that would be the case, but because it was clear that he was blaming himself as well it gave Max the feeling there was someone who understood, even though only a little, what he was going through. They didn’t dare to look at each other the first half hour or so they were in the room together, but once they did see the looks on each other’s faces they grew compassionate towards the other and Max realized casting blame was stupid and so it became a little easier to forgive himself.

People left at various time and to Max’ surprise there were also people who came in, apparently Charles has informed the whole entire world about when and where they had to be to visit you. He wondered how so many people could fit inside such a tiny room and how the hospital even allowed this many visitors.

Considering max hadn’t slept for too long, something else you could berate him for once you woke up, he was pretty glad when visitor hours came to an end and the people in the hospital room started to make themselves scarce. Right when Charles was saying his goodbyes a thought crossed max’ mind. “Could you maybe go to our place and check if I closed the door properly? I left in such a rush, and I don’t remember pulling it shut,” he asked the Monegasque. “Yes, of course. I’ll text you, okay?” To which Max simply responded with a thank you, and for the first time since the hole roller-coaster of events took place he allowed himself to worry about other things than you. He hoped nobody broke in if he left the door open, but that was unlikely considering the whole building had strict security. He hated to admit is but what he actually had wanted to ask Charles was to check on his cats. You would be furious if anything had happened to them, and he really didn’t need anther reason added to the list of things he did that he knew would piss you off.

His eyes and mind returned to you, and he was thankful that you hadn’t woken up while all the people were there. He much rather had you open your eyes to only him and a calm, silent room. You had given a few signs you were closer to consciousness while your friends were here. Things like slightly moving a finger or a squint in an eyelid. He was pretty sure no one else noticed these things, probably because they simply weren’t playing attention to them. However, it had almost been 24 hours and you really should be waking up, which made him worry something was wrong. In the end his tiredness won from the worry, and he dosed off sitting in a position that would make his neck hurt more than the nastiest turns in F1 could under the highest possible G-forces.

He might have fallen asleep, but he wasn’t asleep deep, and so the quietest “Max” ever spoken is what woke him up. When he opened his eyes they were immediately staring into yours. “Hey,” he said as he moved closer to you, “you gave me quite the scare.” He put his hand on the side of your face and his thumb started stroking your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “It’s all good now,” Max replied and before he could help himself he added: “I love you.” “I love you too.” The reply came natural to you. Sooner than he wanted the older nurse came back, and when she saw you were awake she went to get the doctor.

While you were out doing all sorts of tests and scans Max waited in your room. His phone screen lit up alerting him that someone texted him. ‘Door was open, but everything seems ok.’ Immediately a second message followed, ‘Also fed the cats theyre mad you guys left them I think.’ He had added a picture of the animals.

Once your bed was wheeled back into the room the doctor explained to you both how the next few weeks would look for you. It started with the endless list of check-ups you would have to go to and ended with the most dreadful news you had ever hurt. “No physical demanding activities for at least six weeks, so no sporting, don’t go long distances on foot and try to avoid stairs.” For the only time ever Max was glad about your bedridden state because he knew that you would have fought the doctor for keeping you from racing if you could. The look on your face however probably also made him wish he could crawl away into the nearest closet.

After this little briefing you were allowed to go home. You believed Max was happier about this than you were because Max had been there for almost two days. So had you but you couldn’t really remember anything between enter the bathroom and waking up at the hospital. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for whatever stupid reason you are,” you said to your boyfriend when you saw how tight he was clamping the steering wheel. “I’m no,” he responded, “I mean, I did at first, but not anymore.” “Good,” you sight, “than why are you driving like that?” you added with an over-the-top judgemental tone. “Like what,” he retorted fake offended. “Like that steering wheel is the root of all your problems.” He relaxed his hands “Not all of them but there probably are waiting some fines in our mailbox from our trip to the hospital.” You exaggerated a sigh “It’s a shame not everyone is as good a driver as I am.” Max gave you a side-eye. “you’re lucky that crash wasn’t your fault, because I would have held that over your head eventually.” You gasped “You brute.” But secretly you enjoyed that the topic didn’t weigh to heavy between you two. “Also,” Max continued, “remind me who was leading that race again before George so rudely interrupted it?” You supressed a giggle “Oh, I don’t pay attention to that sort of things. All people care about is who is first in the driver standings.”

Suddenly it hit you; six weeks of no racing meant you would lose your first place, enormously diminishing your chances of winning your first championship. Max noticed the mood change and he could guess what this was about “Look there are only three races in those weeks, and the last one is even all the way at the end of your recovery period. We might convince the doctor to let you participate in that one if you recover well. The only way that’s going to happen is if you don’t spend to much time worrying that pretty head of yours and actually relax. Am I clear?” he looked at you while asking that. “Yes,” you said surely. “And also,” he continued, “it will make our fight for the title even more entertaining.” This time you really let out a giggle, which made you wince due to your soar ribs. “We are the Katniss and Peeta of the racing world.” You spoke. “Who?” Max asked. “Max, please say your joking,” you said, shocked by this discovery, “you don’t know the Hunger Games?” your moth almost hung agape. “Of course, I know of the Hunger Hames,” he said sharply, “I’ve just never watched it.” You decided this was unacceptable and you were going binge-watch all the movies when you were home, witch you were while you ended your scolding to your uneducated boyfriend who had been amused, but more relieved, by how lively you were acting. As you entered the elevator Max finally got a chance to speak. “If I remember correctly there was a showered planned before or movie in bed.” You hadn’t thought about it but suddenly you felt dirty. You hadn’t showered after the race which was two days ago. Suddenly you felt relieved there was no one else in the elevator to smell the odour you and Max, who you assumed also hadn’t showered, were spreading. “A shower is probably a good idea for both of us,” you concluded. Max looked at you and it was clear what he was thinking about. “No Max, remember no physical demanding activities for six weeks,” you laughed.

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff

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waywardxwords · 5 months

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Chapter 2 - Nothing to Lose (Taking Chances)

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: None

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Read Chapter 1 - Rules Were Meant for Breaking here!

The wind whipped at the shutters on your two-bedroom home tucked in the suburbs of Richmond, Virginia. It was another quiet night for you. Quiet had become your norm, and you were perfectly content with that. One hand held your cell phone to your ear while the other poured yourself a glass of Merlot.

“I’m heading to Kansas next week,” you said somewhat nonchalantly into the receiver, but your best friend knew better than that.

“Oooh,” she cooed. “Are you seeing your flying buddy?” You rolled your eyes. After you had mentioned your encounter that had happened almost a month ago now, she had been relentless.

“No…I don’t know,” you grumbled. “He has a name, you know.”

“Oh, I know. The mysterious Dean. I still wish you had gotten a last name. You gotta Google guys nowadays. You tend to find some creepy ass people,” she muttered back. You slipped the cork back into the bottle and carried your glass to the living room.

“Says the girl who dated a guy with an attempted battery charge,” you scoffed as you plopped down on your couch and pulled your legs up to the side.

“Listen, Tinder is wild. It’s not my fault he used a fake name,” she tossed back. “And let’s just remember it was a charge and he was never actually convicted.”

“Yeah, let’s not try to justify that one, ‘kay?” You laughed. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’m going to call him. I don’t even know if he wants to hear from me.” You swirled the burgundy liquid around in your wine glass as your mind replayed the night you and Dean spent together.

“You were pretty clear about what you wanted…or didn’t want, for that matter. At least, from what you told me.”

Once you and Dean had gotten your room assignments, you agreed to meet in his room after you got settled. A quick glance in the mirror made you grimace—traveling for fifteen hours hadn’t done you any favors. You swiped your index finger under each eye to clean up the smudged mascara before you pulled at the fallen strands of hair to fix your bun. The idea of getting dressed up at this point seemed futile, so you settled on a long sleeve shirt and leggings with sneakers.

After a quick breath, you grabbed your room key and cell phone and headed down the hall to Dean’s room. Your knuckles tapped against the wood.

Within a moment, the door swung open revealing your new friend. He had changed into a gray undershirt and sweatpants.

“Hey,” you breathed with a smile.

“Hi,” he smiled back. He stepped back and held the door open for you. “Come on in.”

“Are we passing on the bar adventure?” You raised your eyebrows as you eyed his choice of sweatpants.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want to be seen with me wearing sweatpants in the bar?” He feigned offense. “And see, I didn’t think you cared about that kinda thing…” before you could say anything, he continued. “Nah, I’ll be honest. I’m pretty exhausted and thought we could just hang out and watch a movie or something.”

“That works, but seriously, if you’re tired I can absolutely entertain myself and get some sleep. We don’t have to hang out,” you were second-guessing everything, and that wasn’t like you. The confidence and self-assurance you had when it came to your work seemed to go out the window when it came to Dean.

“No way,” he plopped down on the bed and put his feet up as he sat against the headboard. “It’s almost Halloween, how do you feel about some scary classics?” He wiggled his eyebrows, which made you laugh.

“Sounds good to me,” you walked to the other side of the bed and sat down so you were against the headboard with your legs folded like a pretzel.

The movie was fun, but you and Dean ended up talking throughout most of it.

“Okay, so you don’t like planes…anything else you’re afraid of?” You popped a pretzel from the trail mix bag Southwest had provided on your earlier flight into your mouth and handed the bag to Dean.

“Hm,” he hummed as he rummaged through for a Cheez-It. “Not really. My brother’s afraid of clowns.”

“Clowns are pretty creepy,” you agreed. Dean rolled his eyes.

“What about you? What are you afraid of?” The question was harmless, but the answer felt loaded to you. As you processed your thoughts, you hesitated but decided to just go for it.

“Being alone,” your eyes fell to your lap where you played with a loose string on the comforter. “Sorry, that was deep.” You laughed lightly as you avoided eye contact and wondered if you had gone with something easier; something like snakes or needles.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice caught your attention. “Don’t be sorry. That’s a valid fear.” You noticed his voice was lower than before. His words were kind, but you still felt like you had made a mistake by opening up that much to him.

“I appreciate it,” you managed a small smile.

There was a pause, but you were surprised it wasn’t uncomfortable. Then Dean spoke once more. “In, uh, in the spirit of ‘if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine’,” he cleared his throat. “I’m batshit terrified of being afraid…”

You blinked as you contemplated his words. “You’re…afraid of being afraid?”

He chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck as he dropped his gaze to his lap. “Yeah, I know it sounds weird. I guess for me, I always have to be strong and just have my shit together. Which I don’t, by the way.” You watched the side of his face as he spoke, illuminated by the movie playing on the TV on the dresser across from you. “It’s pretty much always been me and Sammy—my brother,” he reminded you. “I don’t really ever show anyone if I’m afraid of something.”

“Everybody gets scared, Dean,” you coaxed as he paused. “Your brother would understand that.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he pondered, his eyebrows knitted together. “I guess so, I just don’t show it.”

Even though it was a simple confession, you felt like you learned a lot about Dean in that moment.

“You were afraid on the plane, I could tell,” you smirked and pushed your elbow gently into his ribs playfully.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and for the first time since he started speaking, his head turned to look at you. His eyes practically studied you but all you felt was his vulnerability. “I know,” he said softly. “That’s the thing, I was able to drop the act in front of you. I just can’t figure out why…”

“Ah,” you smiled. “You broke your own rule. You took your mask off.”

He chuckled again. “I guess I did.”

You turned back after a moment to look at whatever was happening on the TV in front of you, and that’s when you felt Dean’s palm graze the top of your hand at your side. It wasn’t forceful or pushy, it just felt comforting. You glanced down at your hands and took a breath.

“Dean, I need to be honest with you,” your words were so soft, you weren’t sure if he heard you. His eyes watched you and he nodded for you to continue. “I’m really, really bad at…this whole thing.” You mumbled.

“At what, exactly?” He asked for clarification.

“Men? Affection? I’ve been so focused on my career for so long, I kinda just settled on the fact I’d be alone for the rest of my life. And even though it terrifies me, I’m also kind of content with that? Let’s be honest, you live in Kansas and I live in Virginia. We don’t even know each other, we’re strangers,” you were rambling at this point.

“I’m not askin’ you to marry me, sweetheart,'' he laughed gently, but also removed his hand from yours.

“No, I know,” you breathed. “I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, seriously. I just don’t see how…” you trailed off as you tried to find your words.

“I get it, wrong place, wrong time,” he repeated the words from earlier.

“Something like that,” you sighed. You stared into his green gaze for another moment before you found your voice again. “I should go.”

Dean nodded once, but you saw the disappointment flash across his features. “I understand.” He swung his legs off of the bed and waited for you to walk you to the door. “Just so you know, I really liked talking with you tonight.”

“Me too, Dean,” you managed a smile and wondered why you felt sad. You wouldn’t let your feelings deter you.

“And hey, if you’re ever in Kansas and wanna break any more of those rules…” he reached for a notepad on the table by the door. He scribbled out a number. “Gimme a call.”

You took the paper willingly and gave him one more gentle smile. “Thanks, Dean.” And against your better judgment, you leaned forward on your tip toes and kissed his stubble covered cheek. “Goodnight.”

You saw Dean on the plane the next morning, but couldn’t be sure if he had seen you. He picked a seat rows ahead of you, and by the time you had gotten off of the plane—he was gone.

“Can you blame the guy?” Your best friend’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “He bared his soul to you and you bolted.”

“I didn’t bolt because of the conversation! I got scared,” you mumbled.

“I know, but I also know it’s been a month and you haven’t shut up about him,” she reminded you. “Call. The. Man. Please, if for nothing else, for my sake. I’m sick of hearing you whine.”

“Ugh, fine,” you grumbled. “I’ll call him.”

“You better,” she bit back. “If you don’t call him, you’re not allowed to talk about him anymore. Got it?”

A sigh fell from your lips, but you knew she was right. “Deal.”

“Good, I gotta run. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” and with that, you both hung up. You stared at your phone for a minute. With a quick scroll in your contacts, you found the number you had added after Dean wrote it down on the notepad. Your finger hovered for a moment before you took a leap of faith and pressed his name.

You pushed the phone to your ear and took a very large sip of your wine with your eyes squeezed shut tightly. Your breath got caught in your throat when you thought he had answered, only to realize it was his voicemail.

“This is Dean’s other, other cell…so you must know what to do.” And then there was a beep. You quickly hung up the phone. How many cell phones does this guy have? And why…? Maybe your best friend was right—maybe you needed to fully vet this dude before you considered coordinating a meet-up. But before you could think on it any longer, your phone started vibrating against the couch cushion.

“Hi,” you sighed into the phone as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Uh, hi. Who is this?” His voice sounded gruffer than you remembered.

“Dean, sorry, I uh, I—this is—” he cut you off before you could say anything else.

“Oh…uh, everything okay?” He sounded…worried, or concerned, maybe? But you weren’t sure why. And he recognized your voice? There was so much you were confused about but it was overshadowed by the giddiness you felt that he recognized your voice from just a few words.

“Oh, everything’s fine,” you quickly answered. “I’m sorry to bother you, I just wanted to call to let you know I’m going to be in Kansas next week…” you second-guessed, again, why you had called to begin with. You knew you were sending the man mixed signals, and you didn’t mean to. It was a battle from within that you couldn’t tell if you were losing or winning, at this point. He didn’t speak during your pause, so you continued. “I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have called.”

“No, it’s alright,” he spoke softly. “I just didn’t think I’d hear from you again.” You wanted to kick yourself, but instead you stood to your feet and paced a bit in front of your couch as you gripped the phone to your ear.

“I know,” you sighed. “Moment of honesty without any judgment?” You asked hesitantly.

“Shoot,” by the sound of his voice, you could tell he still wasn’t sure what you wanted or why you had dialed his number. To be fair, you still weren’t sure, either. There was this strange sense of connection you felt with him after only spending a few hours with him. It was something you couldn't shake.

“When I left your hotel room that night,” your feet slowed and you brought your fingers up to fidget with the charm on your necklace. “I kind of panicked. But…” But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, is what you wanted to say. However, you weren’t feeling very brave, so you swerved. “…I just knew you had said if I were ever in Kansas again, to give you a call.” Per usual when the nerves crept up and made you feel like you had made a mistake, your teeth found the inside of your bottom lip and nibbled there self consciously.

There was a pause that made you question yourself even more than before, if that were possible. “No, I’m glad you called. When are you planning to be in town?”

Your heart fluttered. Maybe he did want to see you, after all. “Next week, actually. I fly in on Monday afternoon but I don’t have any meetings until Tuesday.”

“Alright,” there was something to his voice that sounded different than before—there was a hardness there you hadn’t noticed on the plane, or when you spent the evening talking about what you were afraid of and watching classic horror flicks. This Dean felt guarded. “Well, how ‘bout drinks? There’s not much out here, but there’s a dive bar. The Blind Pig, it’s in Salina near the airport.”

“Is that too far for you? Aren’t you in Lebanon?” This version of Dean made you realize you really didn’t know him at all—this was just a man you had met by pure happenstance. You wondered if you should Google him, after all.

“Ah, it’s alright. I spend ninety percent of my time in my car and I love it,” he answered truthfully.

Even though your brain was telling you to think twice, something within you urged your mouth to speak anyway. “Alright, then. Is 7 o’clock okay?”

“Seven it is,” he answered, and this time you could tell he had a smile on his face.

“Okay, great,” you gnawed at your bottom lip as you processed. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you then,” he repeated back. Simple ‘byes’ ended your conversation and you couldn’t help but cringe from the awkwardness as you pulled the phone from your ear. All you could think about was that you hoped you hadn’t made a mistake.

A/N: I'm so excited to be back! I've spent a lot of time planning this series out, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for reading, please feel free to let me know if you enjoyed it ♥️

Chapters will be posted on Wednesdays and Saturdays!

Preview of the next chapter:

The Blind Pig was a small hole-in-the-wall sports bar, but it sure did have a lot of patrons. Thankfully, your flight had gotten in when it was supposed to without any delays, but that had gotten you settled in your hotel by five o’clock and ready to meet Dean by six. You had pulled out your laptop to try and get some work done, but your eyes kept pulling to the numbers on the nightstand.

6:02. And then again at 6:04. By 6:07, you couldn’t take it anymore. So you headed the short distance from your hotel to The Blind Pig and settled on a barstool at the bar.

“What can I get you?” The bartender interrupted your thoughts as he dried his hands on a small dish rag.

“A Jack and Coke, please,” you answered in an effort to calm your nerves. “And a glass of water,” so hopefully you wouldn’t get too ahead of yourself.

The bartender nodded and grabbed a glass. Every time the front door opened, you couldn’t help but turn to see if it was Dean walking through the door. But it was still only 6:45, and you knew he had a long drive.

Just as your drink was set in front of you, you heard him clear his throat behind you. “Hey, Atlanta,” the nickname brought a smile to your lips and a shiver down your spine as you turned towards him.

Read Chapter 3 here!

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corona-journal · 1 year

Text

1000 days of covid.... a reflection... what do you remember?

If I asked many of the memory of covid, it would be toilet paper shortages, the media call to treat nurses and doctors as heroes, lockdowns and social isolation. But there's more, though....

The picture above is of a near bare row of supermarket shelves, with only a few rolls of toilet paper.

My own memories, in general terms, would be:

The curious spread of this flu variant through China and its neighbouring countries. (Via media reports. Plus its rapid rise up the priority reading list for the broadcast reader/ reporter/ news team)

The slow response of most governments to the emerging cases (easy with hindsight)

The tourist ship Ruby Princess docking with (eventually a total of) 22 cases on board, docking in Sydney. No quarantine controls enforced effectively at that point in time. (And Covid had been a thing well reported)

The toilet paper shortages, followed by shortages of pasta, rice, disinfectant and other staple foods from shelves. Never seen so many bare shelves before, except in news reports where people cleaned out stores in the face of cyclones or snow storms.

The growing weirdness of still going to work when others were getting government pay to stay at home. Apart from the driver, there'd be 2 other people on the bus in.

Add in the loneliness and the ghost town feeling of walking through an empty city. Except for the essential food services, so kids could still get you your order of coffee and mcbreakfast.... odd contrast, you'd agree.

Oh, the anger and entitlement of the covid deniers and anti-maskers.

My father in law complained about mask wearing on a flight down from Queensland to visit us. While my wife, a nurse, is donning full personal protective equipment (PPE) to help with patients. He's not entitled, just an oblivious, selfish idiot.

A bit of resentment at those who got the payments to not work, while I was an essential worker, in the finance sector had to work through. Discussing insurance with customers. All of them wanting discounts for (multitude of self justified reasons). That was tiring...

On the 'others staying home' a lot of people were making bread, trying new hobbies, going back to old hobbies, riding bikes to get fit... that only seemed to last 2 months, then it was easier to watch digitally streamed shows...

Oh, the growing gap between those who could afford the digital upgrade to work and/or study from home. And those that couldn't... that gap is bigger, and will show up in a decade or so...

Travel? Yeah, we'd travel from the couch to the kitchen table, work, then we'd travel to the letterbox and then to the couch again. On weekends, some of us would travel to the shed, to mow the lawns as part of the outside world travel.

Then the acceptance, as we waited for the vaccine to be made. Too late for too many in China, Italy, Spain, the United Kingdom....

The USA being the most vocal of the anti-maskers and covid deniers. Because of Trump and his idiot approach to the crisis and his vanity.

A few covid conspiracy people I have spoken to, and seen the marches. I don't have time for dealing with these kind of people. Got used to being able to distance myself pretty quickly.

Overall though, I've become a bit more self directed towards entertaining myself (books and going back to the scale hobby of modelling) and fed up with a big insurance company making lots of profit while increasing the consumers insurance bill by about 20% average per year...

And remote studying has become a lonely grind. I am succeeding in my course so far.

Overall, post vaccine roll-out, we've adapted.

It's gone from being "the Chinese flu" (a pejorative term) to the "spicy cough".

So far, I have remained covid free.

And I have science, medicine and society to thank for that.

23 December 2022.

1000 days of covid.

@bundibird @scrapironflotilla thanks for just engaging with this little effort (it will continue)

@tafkarfanfic @bouncinghedgehog your posts helped with hope and morale when things were tough.

I'd invite you to reblog and share your memories, no matter where in the world you are.

#journal #coronavirus #covid19 #current events #observations #history happening today #personal #1000 #day of covid #pandemic #diary #1000 days of covid

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ssirenaamae · 1 month

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HER| Park Jimin 박 지민

Based on the song “HER” by Chase Atlantic

༺═────────────═༻

Chapter one

༺═────────────═༻

"Sometimes, I wish you were a man, Kyung-Mi," Chung-Ae sighed.

What?

"I'm not even going to question what goes on in your mind at this point, Chung-Ae," I laughed as I continued to wipe one of the tables of the diner.

She tends to say the most random things ever. Her mind sure is something. Not going to lie, I'm kind of jealous.

"I'm serious! Men these days are just pure trash. Sure, there might be good guys out here somewhere—but so far all the ones I've met are just horrible. You have all the great qualities one looks for in a partner!" She whined.

I mean, she does have a point about it being tough to find some good partners these days. I've only been in like two relationships, but they weren't anything memorable or serious. At the same time, I wouldn't even count them as a relationship if they were in middle school though.

I was about to date a few guys back in high school, but they all either were messing with me, or it just didn't work out.

I guess I have terrible luck when it comes to men. Maybe I even have terrible qualities which leads me to still be single today, but Chung-Ae says other ways.

"You do have a point," I huffed.

After cleaning the final table in the diner, I take off my apron and smile in satisfaction. Today sure was a long day at the diner.

"Do you underestand, though?! Kyung-Mi, I don't want to end up alone and miserable. I need a man, and fast!" Chung-Ae complained.

"Honestly speaking—I feel the same way," I finally gave in and threw myself at one of the couches and groaned.

We both looked at each other and frowned. We can't stay in this depressing mood forever.

Who am I kidding, though? We're very pessimistic, so we'll probably keep on torturing ourselves about it.

"We have got to do something about this," Chung-Ae said.

"I think we should just let ourselves go with the flow," I replied.

"What? And leave ourselves single with 30 cats? No, thanks," she scoffed.

God, is she tiring sometimes...

If we keep on speaking about this topic, we'll probably ball our eyes out at this point. To be honest, I'm not really in the mood to wipe Chung-Ae's snot off her face—or listen to a sad playlist together.

"If I buy us dinner, will you shut up about this?"

"No way! I'm not that cheap, love," she huffed proudly.

I rolled my eyes, "Okay, I'm buying us dinner for a whole week. How about that?"

It grew silent for a moment.

"You have got yourself a deal."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

"So then I looked this girl in the eye and told her to piss off and—you are not even listening to me!" Chung-Ae screeched.

"Well, you know I zone out a lot. So, technically, it isn't my fault. It's genetics!" I justified.

"What does genetics have to—I can't even believe you're in medical school at this point," she facepalmed.

"I couldn't believe it either at first—trust me," I said.

I remember quite vividly how I had imposter syndrome. I was terribly convinced that they must've had a mix-up with me and another student. It was so stressful. Luckily enough, I managed to do well over the past few years at school.

Medical school is not for the faint-hearted. I probably should've known that before entering. Then again, some people think it's not that bad. I don't know if they're too smart or if I'm just stupid.

Chung-Ae, on the other hand, already graduated and is now working as an interior designer. I, on the other hand, am in my last year in medical school.

"Anyway, how many months do you have left before you officially graduate?" Chung-Ae asked as she munched on her bruschetta.

"3 months. Our graduation ceremony will be done after it in 2 months, "I answered as I was cutting the steak into bite-sized pieces for Chung-ae. She doesn't know how to use a knife that well, so I try to help at times.

"And you wonder why I said I wish you were a man," Chung-Ae mumbled as she watched me cut her steak for her.

"Anyway, you just have five months left?! God, I can't wait for you to work too so we both complain about our coworkers or—"

Chung-Ae started coughing and banged on her chest in an attempt to stop coughing. As I was about to go and help her, same thing with the waiter, she gestured for us a thumbs up. Unknowingly, we both exhaled a huge breath we'd been holding in.

"Miss, are you alright? Was there something in the food?" The waiter nervously asked.

She shook her head, "No, there's nothing with the food. It's all good, thank you."

After the waiter left, I looked at her with my brows raised. She gestured for me to wait a minute as she was drinking water.

"Isn't that your professor right there? Park Mijin was it?" She whisper-shouted.

As I looked in the direction she pointed at, my breath hitched as I saw professor Park with a woman, conversing over something.

Was he on a date?

I gulped, "Yeah, um that's him yeah."

I couldn't help but stare at them as my heart was beating so hard. The way he was smiling at her made my lips twitch.

"Kyung-Mi..." Chung-Ae wiped my face, which confused me as I didn't know that I was crying.

I thanked her and took the tissues from her, attempting to stop the tears from running down my face.

"God, what's wrong with me? Why am I even crying," I laughed, attempting to lighten the mood.

That didn't work though as Chung-Ae held my hands and rubbed them, looking at me sympathetically. We sit in silence like this for a few minutes as the restaurant's atmosphere filled in the quietness.

I can't believe I cried in public. I mean, I know people didn't notice, nor do they care; however, I'm still embarrassed.

If I cry, I usually cry at home or at Chung-Ae's house. I always try to restrain myself in public—though I guess this doesn't apply to what happened right now.

I wish I wasn't so sensitive sometimes.

"I'm sorry. I know you like him a lot," Chung-Ae broke the silence.

"Yeah, well—he's my professor, so it's not like something was going to happen anyway," I sniffled, still looking at the table rather than at her.

"It's his loss anyway," she tried to cheer me up.

I smiled slightly, mouthing a small thank you as I tried to recollect myself.

I know it's so inappropriate to like my teacher, but he has been an important figure in my life since last year. He treated me so well too. I've never been treated with this much care and respect.

He never crossed any boundaries, though. I'm just the idiot who falls for any guy who gives her the slightest attention. Even more of an idiot to fall for my professor.

But can you blame me though? He's smart, sophisticated, mature, gorgeous, kind, sweet, and caring. It's like he's flawless.

If only things were different, then maybe...

"Kyung-Mi, come on, let's go," Chung-As called out to me.

I furrowed my brows, "But, aren't I supposed to pay for dinner?"

"I did, so no worries. You can treat me to dinner later," She smiled.

This girl.

I picked up my bag and began to head out. Before leaving, I couldn't help but stare at them momentarily before I left.

Unbeknownst to me, he managed to catch a glimpse of me before I left.

#park jimin #jimin #bts fanfction #jimin fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #bts army #bts fanfic #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #bangtan boys #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #min yoongi

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msookyspooky · 28 days

Note

OH MY GOD SPOOKY ‼️‼️‼️‼️ thAT CHAPTER 13?????????? A MASTERPIECE!!!!

The "my girl" partmhjnjjhahhahahhuhuhaha I SWEAR i was brushing my teeth while reading and when my EYES SAW THOSE WORDS I JUST STOPPED??????? i stopped there with toothbrush all over my mouth for a good minutE TRYING TO COMPREGED TAHT!!!!!!!! UHHHHHHHGGGGGG

I have no words to explain how much i loved loved loved that chapter!!!! i have been craving for that reveal since i started reading when you were still posting the part set 1 movie and IT DID!!! NOT!!!!! DISAPOUNT!!!!!! IM SO FUCKING EXITED FOR THE REST OF THE STORY LMAOOO 💞💞💞💞💞💞

SPOILER ALERT FOR CHAPTER 13

Yn, in my opinion at least 👀, def had the chance to play dumb, act as if she didnt knew, act as if they were forcing her to do whatever accusation dewey trew at her. but she didnt‼️‼️‼️‼️ and im just freakibg outtttttt she cares so much that AGAIN she put herswlf in front of Billy. After all the pain that doung that all those years ago brought to her, she did that and didnt even think about it. even after stu literally shot someone in the chest she cares so fucking much that the death of that person donest affect how she feels about him anymore (judy didnt actually dieee but yn doesnt know itt( they didnt need to get try to get jill before she hurt yn, they couldve literally just ran away from the hospital. But the choose to stay‼️‼️‼️ for stu i wont eve.n elaborate because my. Girl. My. Ficking. Girl. Was enough for me lmaooo‼️‼️‼️but billy didnt need to say athing! In fact, it would be better for him if he didnt bc he knew dewey woukd recognize him the second the spotlight was on him. But.he did. He defended yn the second he could. He defended her even if he knew no one would listen to him.

Im 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠 anywaysssss hahaha i love your writing a normal amount............

Alsooo you wrote jill so so well that i wanted to go inside my phone and strangle her myself lmaoo

THANK YOU!!! I LOVE THIS REVIEW OMFG AFGSSG😍💘

Oh YN definitely cares and so do they there's just so much turmoil and difference in morals that it's a rough road but Billy and Stu saving her (To "kill her god knows when" yeah right 😒🙄) And her deciding to follow that moral compass and save Billy before her own ass because it was the 'right thing to do' (mm hmm 🤨😒) is just another layer they didn't know this situation could have!

Fr YN could have played dumb but I ain't gonna lie when I came out of anesthesia I slept SO HARD it was insane I was fucking out of it and barely formed thoughts so I can't imagine some bitch waking me up a few hours after my surgery trying to strangle me THEN trying to make coherent thoughts to justify why Billy is there 😣

And I think as the author writing it (And the girl reading it lol) like...YN is fucking tired.

I mean, her best friend and honestly only true friend died and she found his corpse and has that weighing on her conscience that it's her fault they seperated. Gale was never her friend 100% fake af and YN lowkey knows it. Karla is a friend by being Ray's wife but not on the level her and Randy are.

And other than Dewey; Billy and Stu is all she's got. In one night, she was truly stabbed for the first time not counting her arm or hand. Good and only Friend is dead. She's being framed AGAIN over fame she never wanted to begin with.

Dewey, as much as she loves him platonically, has changed because of that badge and being married to Gale and in Woodsboro (I noticed it from 3 to 4 with Dew to Sid and was shocked tbh) and has done nothing but make YN not trust him with her safety this entire installment.

Stu pointed it out in TT. That he was there no matter what, toxic or not. He knew the worst and best of YN and stayed there for his own selfishness but still for her as well. When Randy and Dewey only knew what YN revealed but she was living a double life that they UNDERSTANDABLY would be hurt and enraged over but Billy and Stu have been known and don't care

ISTG it's why I fuck with enemies to lovers sm bc your enemy sees your worst side, weakest side, you see there's and yet you still fall in love?

I think Billy has never seen these sides of YN and when he did in TT he was in a shit place in his life and still bitter over what she did in Set Up and Sequels Suck.

But Stu? He was in her life from Windsor to Hollywood on and off and got over her betrayal before Billy so it's easier for him.

And I hc Stu as fucking nuts to be blunt. Flys off the handle, impulsive, delusional, arrogant, has little value in peoples lives, doesn't discriminate with killing, sadist, possibly even a bit of a high functioning individual with a form of ASPD or just good old narcissism where he doesn't love like a normal person does so he forced himself into YN's life as a form of control but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for her he just cares for his own self preservation first and always will. While I hc Billy as an introverted guy with fucked up morals and possible hallucinations like his daughter Sam / he's more likely to snap than most people same with his Mom Nancy. But I think he feels love and emotions the same as anyone else he just has trust issues and cynical af.

It's why after so long...I mean, aside from money, Billy got what he wanted. YN is alone, isolated, depressed, anxiety, PTSD, no friends, everyone she cares for is dead or hates her, getting attacked by conspiracy theorists that claim she helped them. And I think he's realizing slowly but surely that maybe her suffering for trying to turn him in while saving him isn't what he wanted after all.

Thank you for the review and listening to me rant I just love these in detailed ones because sometimes you guys see things about the characters I don't even!!♡♡♡

#faf 13 spoilers #ily sm

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yj-98 · 9 months

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6 and 25 🧐

hi jessie <33

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

this is genuinely so hard LOL ......... i avoid shipping spaces typically like if i like 2 characters in a relationship i do it in such a vacuum. i find bætcest shippers annoying but i also do Not go out of my way to interact with them 😭 like. especially jæytim and stuff im like. related to the rant i just had to how those 2 just do not give a shit about each other + are SO mischaracterized in anything fanon. i find it so baffling when people try to bend over backwards to justify them

ig id call timkon shippers annoying but mostly in the way that like. at this point timkon is a parody of itself outside the like. handful of mutuals and people i follow who like them. i just do not interact with that either because i care about myself

....... a lot of tim ships actually. tim fans outside the trusted people i know might be the issue here. bat ships in general maybe also. some of yall with superbat and dickkory i do not jive with.

i think that whatever the arrowverse people have going on is kinda annoying too but . now im just nitpicking

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

this ones a real thinker............. i think im tired of hearing a lot of peoples takes on mr bruce wayne batman himself LOL idk. hes complicated hes got a lot of nuance and history and i think theres a lot to be said on how he appears in non-batman books vs his own runs. and how perception of him in-universe with the characters who's POVs were seeing vs his own vs how writers so regularly misunderstand the concept of batman also as a symbol of hope and his general attitude towards kids and giving parents 2nd chances. and just in general how writers biases affects him and how much of a zeitgeist his character is. idk.

i am a rly big fan of him hes special to me in a specific kind of way that i really cant. keep going on abt. but ill try to keep it brief with i understand and agree w/ a lot of things said but i simply get so sick and tired of the .........fanonization in both directions his character goes thru and the way people complain abt him no matter what. no winning w/ that guy

#asks #boudicca #cam 🏛

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taketwoinink · 2 years

Text

hi feeling like a worthless pile of junk gonna rant now you've been warned

so I don't know what's been up with the past couple of days but I keep having moments where I just feel... upset-ish and I want to rant but I don't know what to rant about

and I'm part of this Discord server and we have a rant space and I finally actually said something on there and no one's responded and I know it shouldn't be a big deal and it's not like I asked for advice or reassurance but I really want some and now I feel too meaningless to ask and I'm just going to cry and I wish someone would notice and comfort me

why is life so freaking hard? it keeps getting better and then worse again and I'm so tired of it I want to make some permanent progress please

I feel like everyone else bonds and has friends and can fit in and I'm always different and on the outside and I try and I'm just too weird and misshapen and all over the place and I don't belong anywhere. and I almost wish it was true so I didn't feel like I'm faking because I know realistically that people do like me and are similar to me but I don't feel it

and everyone else on this Discord server has friends and comforts and helps each other out and I feel like when I try I just come up short and no one's reaching out to me and I just feel dumb and alone and insufficient

and now I'm crying and it's making my throat really hurt

I kind of want to drop out of the Big Bang because my brain's convinced itself that whatever beta I'm going to get is going to hate me and I'm so afraid and I feel so stupid over the stupidest things and I've tried my best and it's not enough

and nothing's working out for me anymore. like we don't even having freaking eyeliner and it's such a small thing and yet I know it would have made me 10x more confident in myself today

I don't feel like I'm worth anything. like I really want to get a binder and yet I feel like I'm not worth the money it would take to get one (it's not even like they're the most expensive thing out there and they'd help me so much) and plus I'd either have to ask my mom or go through my brother and I don't know that my mom would go for it and I'm stupidly worried that my brother will judge me even though I know he won't

is it too much to just wish they'd stop calling me a 'she' for one day? that I could just have one day where I could tell them that I'm nonbinary and they could listen and there wouldn't be questions or contention and i could just be me and it could just be easy why do I always have to fight so hard

this time last year I was really suicidal. i kept finding reasons to put off killing myself. first it was my cousin's birthday then my brother's then my dad's and by then I got help so it was fine but I feel like I'm going to start regressing back to that point and sometimes I find myself falling back into that habit of thinking "well if this fails I'll just kill myself" as a sort of comfort thing. they all hate me? i'll just die. fail school? i'll just die

i don't know. I don't want that as my backup plan. I want to live, I want to be happy, I want to see myself every day in the mirror and feel comfortable, I want to go off and become a silversmith and open up a jewelry store next to the hypothetical future bakery my friend will run, I want to have a dog without it being so complicated, I want to stop hurting all the time, I want to like myself without thinking instead of having to justify why I'm worth it

and I just smudged mascara onto my blanket yay

and brain's been trying to say "oh you just think you're nonbinary, you're actually just confused and you're a girl"

can't I just be me? why is it so complicated? why is it so hard?

i feel like I should be doing more to help out my family. i tell myself hey you survived another day that's good enough but is it? am I really good enough?

i don't want to have to sit through family scripture study. i don't want to be misgendered anymore. i don't want to do this

i should have gone to bed but I stayed up and I know late night brain isn't trustworthy but i still feel all this anyway

welp, if you made it this far, thanks for listening

hope your day is going better than mine

#tw suicide mention #(tagging it as that just to be safe I guess #tw suicidal thoughts #tw depression #tw misgendering #just feeling crappy #don't know what to do #I'll get through it #cause I always do that #I just #wish it was easier #lowkey wish I didn't have to do this at all #it's fine #well it's not fine #but it will be fine #probably #things do get better #it's just hard to remember that sometimes #sometimes I want to wallow a little bit #sometimes I want someone else to take some of the burden #i do so much and it's too much and it's too little all at the same time #and this keeps reflecting in my anxiety dreams #which I get almost every night #had one last night where my mom said I had to start doing more around the house and didn't make my brothers do anything #and I was literally screaming my throat raw #trying to make them understand that I COULDN'T DO IT #and no one did #and I tried to lock myself in my room so I could cry myself to death #but they kept getting in somehow #was quite happy to wake up from that

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bookishblogging · 2 years

Text

Homophobia and Overcompensating (tw: mentions of homophobia)

Something I have noticed as I’ve gotten older is I have become jaded to the world around me in regards to my sexuality- and ultimately anything political (not that sexual preference is a political issue but they run along the same spheres). This is going to be a long post but I promise I come full circle and I’m not just ranting but please don’t feel obliged to read

I’m not sure if jaded is the correct word, perhaps: indifferent, tolerant, dare I say accepting? I have grown up in the South my entire life, have known I was lgbt since early middle school (honestly I was even like that when I was younger, I constantly said I never wanted to get married because I never wanted to be with a man, and would wish I could marry the woman instead) and eventually deduced I was a lesbian my freshmen year of high school. I have had a very very very long uphill battle with accepting my queerness. I grew up Christian as well, so I constantly had people around me condemning my ‘biggest dirty sin.’ I lived in terror every day, and am ever so thankful my entire family has supported me after I came out a few weeks ago (well beyond my days as a freshmen in high school). I would beg to god to change me, to fix me, tried dating men and put myself in very dangerous situations with those men to try and change who I was at my core. Even after i had allegedly “came to terms” with my sexuality when I was Christian, I was constantly having to justify the validity of my existence to not only other Christians, to myself. I would read the Bible and annotate the fuck out of it, searching for answers as to why the very people who shared my loving and beautiful faith were also using it as kindling in the pyre of their hate. I was driven to insanity, page after page, question after question never fully answered. My shelf of doubts was overcrowded and about to collapse under the weight of my finite mind trying to grasp the infinite nature of divinity. This eventually led to the deconstruction of my Christianity and much much later adoption of Hellenic polytheism. It has been a rough road but I’m thankful for the lessons I have been taught in magnanimity. I’m going to shift gears a bit but I will bring back up this point later in this post.

Ever since middle school, I’ve been very involved in politics and downright volatile to anyone who had different beliefs than I did. While a large portion of people were the same way, that wasn’t an excuse for my aggression and lack of a filter. In my age group, I was constantly met with others who shared my unbridled passion for debating politics with whomever crosses my path. This went both ways, with people who agreed and disagreed with my opinions; and I would start arguments and be so hateful in my remarks. We would essentially be in a pissing match until one of us got too tired and conceded, but god forbid you were the one to give in. I got some sort of adrenalin rush from these political spheres, and both adults and adolescents alike were drunk on civil unrest. I carried this toxic view into my high school years and legitimately thought less of those who had different political beliefs than I did.

Now here is the full circle moment I’m sure you’ve been just absolutely dying on the end of your seat to hear. I now can look back and understand I did this to try and both validate and defend myself and my sexuality from scrutiny- especially because I was already doing that myself. Ultimately, I was so hard on myself and did and said so many horrible things to myself in regards to my sexuality in an effort so that nobody else could cause as much pain as I caused myself. It was a defense mechanism, albeit a shitty one. And not at all an excuse for my political extremism. But as I’ve grown older and came to my above realization, I realized I don’t find enjoyment in political discourse anymore, I don’t feel this need to argue with every living soul that walks the face of the earth. Be it maturity or my acceptance of my sexuality, I have really become averse to trying to argue my sexuality. The validity of my existence isn’t something up for argument. All I did was feed into the homophobia and give them what they wanted: a reaction. I used to seek out homophobic people and go off on them, but now I can respectfully exist among them because I have risen above the absolute insanity that it was to argue about my right to exist as a lesbian. I was searching for their validity and their acceptance even though deep down I knew I wouldn’t get it. And I know this isn’t a problem with just me, it’s a problem within the LGBTQ+ community as a whole. A lot of people within our community talk about certain members of the LGBTQ+ community (more often than not the trans community) as if they are “dampening the image of the community as a whole” or “making us look stupid”. While those statements are problematic on the surface level because you should never shame someone on their sexual or gender identity, much less if you are APART of the community you’re shaming. This comes from a need to get validation from non-lgbtq+ people and set yourself apart from the crowd as to not be grouped in when they belittle queer folk. But this doesn’t separate you from the group, it pushes you more deeply into the hands of hate. Not only are you inviting others to mock your community because you yourself are mocking it, but you are tearing down a quintessential part of yourself that you cannot change whether you like it or not.

All of that to say, i will never argue about the validity of me being my true, authentic self to anyone ever again. I have been brought some of the most peace I have ever know by coming to terms with the fact that homophobic people exist and are bound to cross my path every now and again. It has been a very very long journey, and a lot of backwards steps, but this peace is something I have never known before and it’s liberating. It’s hard to start just not giving homophobia the time of day, it hurts at first, but then you get better and learn to reach out to your support system. You learn that life is more than the four walls of your childhood home and the streets you’ve known since you were little were nothing more than a few names and places. You begin to realize that your life truly begins when you are able to fully let yourself be authentically and truthfully real. Life isn’t what you know, it’s what you don’t know, and there is so much beauty in the unknown if you let yourself follow it.

#lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq community #lesbian #homophobia #lgbt support #lgbtq positivity #lgbtq+#deconstructing christianity #deconstructivism #how to deal with homophobia #lgbt rights

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for-the-ninth · 2 years

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The hardest part about boundaries is holding them.

My partner cheated on me. She's an addict who hasn't been choosing recovery. She's got boxes in that big heart of hers that have never been unpacked, a toolbox that's never been filled. And in her refusal to take care of herself, she's hurt me.

My partner is an addict. My partner loves me. My partner ruined the only relationship I've ever felt safe in because she was drunk and unhappy. My partner is a selfish asshole, and she loves me.

Accepting all those things as simultaneously true is a mind fuck. Reconciling the anger I feel with the love I can't stop myself from having for her makes my chest ache. It's hard for me to understand how someone can get so good at compartmentalizing that they can hurt someone they love with such ease. It's scary for me. It's scary for her too.

I've tried for three years, in every way I know how, to get her to seek help. I tried being soft and I tried being tough, but I always forgave her. I always welcomed her back into the safety of my arms, always held her while she cried about how much she hated herself for relapsing and lying to me again. I tried everything but leaving and now that's the only choice I have left.

I've gone in circles for days trying to figure out where I went wrong, what I could've done differently, how I could've enabled her. Addicts compartmentalize. Their lovers justify.

What I'm learning now is to give up control. I've given her everything I can to help her and it's never been enough. It was never gonna matter if she couldn't commit to recovery. It was always gonna be three steps forward and two steps back. "I'll do better this time, I promise." I can count the number of promises she's kept on one hand.

I have my role to play in this too. I convinced myself her addiction wasn't "that bad." She wasn't abusing me, never lashed out or hurt herself. She didn't drive drunk and only stuck to beer. I never had to pick her up from jail or the hospital. I thought if I was kind and patient and encouraging that would be enough. I learned the hard way that wasn't true. And she learned the hard way there's a limit to my love.

I woke up this morning and wanted to die. The thought of her being with another the way she is with me makes me sick. It's 2am here and I'm eating the first full meal I've been able to stomach in three days. It tastes like cardboard.

Everything reminds me of her. She's in my house, in my bed, in every playlist and every stupid tiktok I want to send her. We're meeting in two days to set boundaries and exchange belongings. She cried in my lap when she confessed and I'll probably cry in hers when she returns her house key.

Truthfully, I don't know where we go from here and I think that's okay, because I'm tired of choosing our course. I'm tired of trying to keep her on the straight and narrow, throwing her life raft after life raft only to have her reject them. I'm tired of giving her everything only to have her choose addiction over me.

Maybe she'll do the work. Maybe she won't. Maybe a year from now, when she's waist deep in the steps and has a sponsor to kick her ass, we can start to repair. Maybe friendship is the farthest we'll ever make it. The only thing I'm sure of is the love we have for each other. And that makes leaving so much harder.

I know this is more personal than the types of posts I usually make on here and if it makes you feel some type of way that's okay. You can scroll by or you can commiserate. Just don't trash the asshole I love. She's trying. It's just not enough for me right now. I hope she does it for herself even if she couldn't do it for me.

There are few things more painful than watching someone hurt themselves. But I'm holding that boundary. She knows I have nothing left for her. She knows how badly she's fucked this up and she knows I might never forgive her. I just hope she knows I never stopped believing in her. That's all I have left to give at this point.

I ate and showered today, between the crying fits. I reached out to my therapist and when I didn't feel safe alone I hit up some friends. I'm trying so fucking hard. It'd help to hear you're proud of me, even if we don't know each other. I can't take it day by day yet, but moment by moment seems to work for now. I have to believe in myself as much as I believe in her.

We'll figure this out together when the time is right. For now we're both on our own.

#this is the hardest thing ive ever done #i know its for the best and its still so goddamn hard #i wanna cave #i wanna text her and ask her to come over so we can sleep in the same bed #i wanna pretend it never happened and just watch a stupid movie together #but denial never helps #we both deserve better

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groggyaeneator · 8 days

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More emotionally mature post about the situation, now that some time has passed. (Posting this so it can be linked in my pin, followers dw about it)

The old post is still up if you wanna dig through my personal tag for it, but I'm not going to link it here. But as I said in that one, this is not meant to be a callout post. This is me processing and trying my best to clear up misconceptions about me. Please do not go after June. Please do not rope June back into this. The only reason I'm making this is because I'm still catching wind of folks connected to her checking up on this blog. And at this point, I'm just tired, and I don't need her trying to retaliate against me or rope ME back into this.

June was and continues to be emotionally abusive towards me. I'm not saying this without basis. I've been avoiding using the word abusive to describe it for a while, and only after my therapist's insistence and support am I calling it that. I have the messages archived where she would gaslight me, daily, to the point I fell into a suicidal spiral. (Gaslight is another word I have hesitated to use, until my therapist broke it down for me and made me come to terms with the truth of it.) I have the messages where I was confused and crying and just trying to understand why she was mad at me, where she responded in threats to break up with me, hurt me, or come to my house and kill me. I have the constant reminders of the people who I was outed to, after she block evaded me through a friend who she convinced I was about to attempt suicide to, with disastrous consequences. I have the evidence of property of mine that has been destroyed by her. I have the memories, of the times where she endangered my life and called me paranoid, silly, and in need of mental help when I insisted that she not put me in harms way. This isn't exhaustive, but I don't really want to go into the deeper stuff. I was not the worlds best boyfriend; I had paranoia issues that led to me needing a lot of reassurance, and I probably wasn't in a good place for a romantic relationship, but I don't think this takes away from what was done to me. Part of me, also, still believes that June's a good person at heart, who does not realize she was this abusive towards me, even though all of my friends and my therapist seem to think it was intentional and calculated. I want to say June is a good person who just got in her own head. I really want to believe that.

I still don't know what June has been saying about me, aside from the context of my ban from Elekk and the anon hate I've gotten here about the situation. But I do know she's been spreading that I block evaded her, and while I guess on SOME level that's very technically true, I think it was justified and I want to explain myself:

For starters, towards the end of our relationship, June had made a habit of blocking me, unblocking me to say something rude, then blocking me again. She would also have me blocked on one platform, then continue to engage with me on another. She has block evaded me before, with the worst case mentioned above, but that wasn't the only time. A week prior to her getting me banned from Elekk, I noticed I was blocked by her partner on fedi, and approached her on snapchat about it, not asking for an explanation or demanding she get involved, but just letting her know "Hey, if I did something to offend [partner], I want to right whatever I did if it's possible. If you don't know anything, don't worry about it, no need to get involved, I'm not owed an explanation." June responded by encouraging me and then pressuring me to message her partner on other platforms to seek an explanation, which I declined, before she got angry with me and I stopped responding. All things considered, "block evasion" did not ring high for me of a boundary that June regarded very highly.

A week after she encouraged me to block evade her parnet, she messaged me on snapchat about something silly that happened to her on a dating app, I responded with a joke, and then I got off work to find out that I was blocked by her on snapchat and that our conversation history had been deleted. Something about snapchat, if you are unaware, is that once someone blocks you you cannot block them back because their profile does not show up. Knowing this, and having been coming to terms with the nature of our relationship in therapy, I was ready for this to be over with and I really did not want June to unblock me later and try to engage with me again. So, I sent her a text message explaining as much. Was this text message perfectly worded? No. It was messy, sloppy, and emotionally fueled. But the message served to tell her that I no longer wanted her to contact me or use my friends as ways of getting around contacting me, that I did not want to interact with her further, that I wanted her to keep me blocked/block me elsewhere and forget about me.

When I got off work the next day, I opened fedi to people calling me a creep. I was banned from my instance. I opened tumblr to find my inbox filled with anon hate. (I have no idea what she has said about me specifically, I never attempted to check up on her socials or seek out what was being said, but I in no way believe it can be honest considering this reaction.) In the ensuing week(s), I find out that June has attempted to match with one of my closest friends on tinder and has continued to try to reach out to another one of my friends on snapchat to convince them to leave me. These are two people who have only ever interacted with June through me, who June has even tried to cut me off from. Rather than leave me alone, she has continued to try to weasel into my life through adjacent means.

I don't see it ending any time soon. I really do just want to be left alone. There are more wounds from this relationship than what I initially suspected, and I am trying to heal through them with therapy and reconnecting to the friends I neglected during this relationship. I am hurt and broken in ways that I can't even begin to describe. But I am also really working on getting better. Thankfully I have wonderful friends and a great support network, and a solid future ahead of me.

If you came to my blog to try to harass me or check up on me, I just want you to first consider if you're doing anything better than what June has accused me of. I also want you to take a moment and consider who you trust, and how quickly you trust them, and if you enable them or white knight for them, especially if you only know them from behind a screen. Lastly, I just want to be left alone, so I can grow, heal, and move on. Thank you.

#gA is typing

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kinetic-elaboration · 18 days

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April 9: Writing Thoughts

Today was a really tough day and honestly, it’s way too early in the week for me to be having tough days. I’m not here for it. I pulled something in my leg so I was limping around on it all day pretending that it was going to get better, and I was also so weirdly tired I could barely keep my thoughts together. So, I still need to go shopping tomorrow boo.

I’m starting to look forward to my staycation starting next week… it’s still far off but I am almost optimistic about it.

Anyway, tonight I’d like to think about writing projects a little, because I was sort of thinking about them earlier but didn’t feel like I was getting very far in my own head. I probably won’t now either but at least I can run the train of thought into the ground.

I still have the end of my old Jonty fic hanging over me and I am just not thinking about it. I cannot leave this story this close to the end without finishing. That’s not an option. There are a variety of other stories I don’t want to leave unfinished or abandoned but this one in particular can NOT languish or go back into the vault. I’ve come too far. I think part of the reason I keep putting it off is that I am just not doing well recently and I want to spend my writing time/energy on a project that I’m really, really into (which is fair of me) and part of it is that I have only one scene and a pretty solid outline for it so like… it doesn’t seem urgent at all. But a third aspect is that I don’t know what T100 project will replace it. Perhaps a part of me is scared I’ll drop out of the fandom entirely at this point. Which would be fine except that, like… I really do want to write SGAU and also maybe some of these other ideas, you know?

My plan for a while now has been to move on to the Road Trip fic next, but… I don’t know. I’ve done a lot of writing about it but I haven’t actually started it, and I feel like I’m getting farther away from both an inherent understanding of it and an interest in it. Which happens. I don’t know. It’s not a big deal. Sometimes the fun part is the planning and the thinking and the notes. I don’t know. I feel like I’m eulogizing this silly little project. Like I have to justify dropping it but I will justify and I will drop.

But if I do decide not to work on it at the moment, what will I work on? I’ve been considering Kiss the Ring, a one-shot that has seemed fun to me pretty recently. Or do I want to seriously triage and go right into SGAU because it’s now or never on it, because I have to be prepared to drop out of the fandom entirely at any time? I am a person who is easily paralyzed by the tyranny of choice and I know this about myself so I try to plan things in advance in such a way that I simply do not have choices and that’s why I’m trying to get my ducks in a row here. Because what if I do finish the Jonty fic this weekend? What then? But I somehow feel as if I had so many more things I need to do first before I can decide on a next project—I’m not sure what, soul searching, note taking, note reading, meditating, mystic revelation, hard to say.

Ugh, it’s late. I got to crawl through tomorrow. It will be a long day. Maybe afterwards I’ll get more sleep.

#the year 2024 #2024: rl #2024: writing thoughts

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fadebolt · 2 months

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There's been a boatload of talk about negative stuff in my Tumblr circles, so it's time to do some random rambling about the awesome stuff that's been happening recently, cus this is my space, and I came to this website for escapism and happiness, goddamnit!

So, art month's been going pretty dang well so far. Of course, I'm still not an expert, and I'm not getting an enormous amount of notes or anything, but I'm definitely improving and climbing up, slowly but surely (and the fact that I could get even just a few people to care enough click the buttons feels incredible... maybe I should do more ships and power swapped scugs in the future?). Exams will probably start coming up in the second half of the month, and I may have to skip or delay lots of days then, but I still have plenty of time until that happens (yes, I know I didn't do 4 yet, but I assure you - that had nothing to do with the drama that was happening, I was just tired as hell, and so I couldn't draw too much xd).

Some other games I've been following have also got some good news - like for instance, there's this custom campaign series in Warcraft 3 called 'Warcraft 3 Alternate', which are the vanilla campaigns, just races and factions all being swapped around, with a bunch of extra new features, systems, units, heroes, and other additions too. And couple days ago, it's fifth campaign was released, which I really enjoyed watching on YouTube, since this is the point in the story where all the main factions pop up, but they're all swapped around now, so the situation is kind of a mess. Oh, and this partially inspired fire Rivulet too, so there's some neat trivia I guess.

And League of Legends - while is not getting the Arena back, that me and my dad had such a blast with - is getting updated bots, which is very much a big deal for me, cus I used to constantly 1v5 them, as a way to enjoy all the awesome and fun characters from the game, without having to potentially put up with douchebags the matchmaking might throw at me. And if I have time, I'll most definitely want to test of these new ones will be 1v5-able, and if so, which champions could pull it off?

Now, back on track to the Rain game - I've been really loving all the amazing pieces my dear friends and mutuals and acquaintances and other lovely folks have been making for the art month! Their skills and creativity is nothing short of impressive. However, I've been running into a bit of a dilemma, where I'm often thinking about liking or reblogging something, but then my brain goes "Hey, what about all the other stuff that you aren't reblogging or liking, even though they would clearly deserve it? Wouldn't it be unfair if you boosted this, but not those?" and it kind of makes me not want to press the buttons, even if the post might actually deserve them.

Does anybody else have this experience, or am I just going crazy here? There's probably some sort of solution here, and I hope I'll eventually figure it out, cus y'know, it's probably also unfair to not like or reblog people's stuff, while still hoping that they would do it to me. It just feels a lil dirty, and I'm really trying to figure out how to make myself stop.

... yeah, I know this was meant to be about only positivivty, but I wanted to mention that little pet peeve of mine. I don't really feel like it would b justified to create a Disord chatroom just for this, y'know.

#fade rambes

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spacecadetspe · 3 months

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A year ago today…

Jan. 16, 2023

Having read some of the top listings on Lj today, I realize wholeheartedly that the account of my daily life may seem fantastical... or perhaps just unhinged. The primary reason I keep this alternate reality confined to this journal is so that I can live a normal life on Earth. I have responsibilities to which I must regularly attend, and I can't afford to let it interfere with my daily life.

I suppose I should institute some "rules" or something, to keep things clear, since it's plausible that whoever is reading this will be justifiably confused.

Nearly anything is possible. If it can happen, it probably will at some point. How I react to the goings on is how I measure my personal growth.

I say "nearly anything" because logically there are just some things that wouldn't be necessary, appropriate, or may even be detrimental to the beings that exist in that space, including myself. (Could there be a castle made of candy, guarded by marshmallow unicorns? Certainly. But... why? Who does that benefit?)

As Virtue of Hope and Chief Lady of Dreams, I can do a lot of things that my peers cannot. I can regrow limbs and heal scars (mine or anyone else's). I can split myself into projections or excise different aspects of myself. I have 300 wings, where most Virtues start out with ten.

None of this applies to my life in the Mortal coil. My mortal life is really rather mundane. I'm a divorced mom living in a comfy apartment, have equal custody of my son, and hold a raging grudge against my ex-husband (which I try not to project onto my child).

My therapy affects both sides of my existence. Because therapy does that. It changes who you are at a basic level, and so my actions and reactions reflect that on both sides.

Many of the entities I encounter in the Dream World exist on the mortal coil, as well. I have attempted to make distinctions between their roles in this life and the one on the other side of the Veil.

Now that that's cleared up, maybe I'll sound less like a crazy person when I talk about my walks on the other side.

And speaking of, by last few such walks haven't been pleasant. My evening routine in the Mortal realm has consisted of drawing a sacred circle on my chest every night to keep X away, much like the uses of Solomon's demonic sigils. And, two nights ago, I forgot to apply it. I really should know by now that those little spells aren't permanent. I got too complacent. I'm not sure why, since I'm well aware that X will try to subdue me by any psychic means necessary. Perhaps I'm just tired. I yearn for a sense of "normalcy," whatever that means. I suppose I shouldn't be so disillusioned.

As far as I'm concerned, I think placing wards like this every night serves to beautifully illustrate the idea that I am, in fact, unhinged. Drawing sigils and swearing up and down that some entity somewhere, nay, my ex-husband, is out to get me? It just screams paranoid delusion.

Which is one more reason that X might continue such attacks, I suppose; just to undermine me further in a society that doesn't tend to believe in the stuff I see.

Don't get me wrong, dear reader; I'm exhausted with this. I would love nothing more than to let down my guard and just... be. No more sigils, no more spells... no more journals where I write myself in as the victim. But waking up in the manner that I do... it's more than enough to make me a believer.

I dreamed that he cut off my left arm above the elbow. I could probably play it off like I fell asleep on my arm and cut off my circulation, but it wouldn't do justice to the pain. I woke up, of course, and tried to shake it off, but the ache shot down all the way to the joints of my fingers. It was so severe that the following day, I couldn't play the piano. This is in the mortal world, mind you. So the fact that it was affecting my physical body is a serious matter.

He cut off my arm... butchered every joint... so that when I stitched it back together, I can feel the seams holding my flesh in place. Even now, I'm having some difficulty typing.

Nothing on earth could describe how much I want to just... stop. But until X is finally broken, I'll have to settle for looking a little crazy.

Jan. 16, 2024

I’ve tried to get back into doing the rounds again. Morpheus and other oneiroi have approached me to try to keep me calm, but after my come-to-Jesus with Fortitude, I’m feeling a little fragile.

Two nights in a row now, any attempt to ease my frustrations has been thwarted. Night before last, Morpheus was called away just as he was about to crawl into bed with me. And last night I came away from one of my rounds shaking and anxious, feeling my chakras broken, and one of them came up behind me and held me for awhile. I turned around and he kissed me (keep in mind I’m not sure who this is) and I felt myself relax. But it didn’t go further than that. He escorted me to a bedroom somewhere, but I was awoken by a phone call.

The timing always seems to be just slightly off. I’m not to the point where I can be angry about it, but I feel it approaching.

Today is a rare snow day for my state, so Fortitude and I are staying in, for now. I’ll go get W later today, if the roads are clear.

Métis wants to have a “girls’ day” at her apartment in the dream world, which sounds pleasant. I might join her later.

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keefwho · 4 months

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December 26 - 2023 Tuesday

10:53pm

This morning I cleaned up some boxes and put away my bottled water. I also vacuumed and tidied the area where my shoes go. I had to use the bathroom very badly so that interrupted my cleaning but I was almost done anyways. I took my shower and made mini corn dogs with a side of macaroni and applesauce. I made sure to make an appropriate meal size because I weighed myself and am seemingly on the up but it might just be what I ate yesterday. Either way it never hurts to try and make each of my meals 33% of my calories like I always mean to. It also promotes proper hunger when the next meal comes along. Just as I was about to start streaming, Daisy asked if I wanted to call while she drove to meet up with her friend and of course I wanted to. We chatted about stuff while I worked. I warmed up with some Zelda sketches and started on the group commission again. After she left, I booted up a short stream to start the next season of Mia and Me and finish commission work. This next episode was awful, somehow the voice actors got even worse but I'm sure we'll adjust. Afterwards I chilled with a Bojack and some other videos. I started lunch early since I was making rice a roni and it takes around 90 minutes to cook the way I do it. I played some KSP in that time and started designing a rocket to land on the moon and come back which is turning out to be very difficult with the few parts I've unlocked. The rice a roni came out good but my tummy started hurting while I ate it. The coke I had today was partly frozen so it was nice and chilly. For work I popped into VRchat for conversation and joined on Egg who usually isn't on at that time. She was checking out the reuploaded movie world and put on Perfect Blue while I worked but we left after 15ish minutes because she wasn't in the headspace to watch it anymore. We jumped to a Black Cat and camped upstairs until this 16 year old girl sparked conversation about furries and identity. Egg left for a DnD session and I was left with the girl who trauma dumped on me for a good while. I was drawing so I just listened. When I was done working, I got off and DMed Daisy about some stuff. I tried joining David's VC while I worked on Plaz's world but they were gaming and it wasn't a great call for conversation. There was also someone very intentionally make cute yawns and other noises because they were tired but they swore they weren't meaning to make noise. They were annoying because they were using their tiredness to be funny or get attention or something. I left and decided to chill for awhile. I tuned into some GTA RP and tried playing Steel Division but I didn't really feel like playing that. Then I played more KSP and made a little progress but it wasn't chill enough. I figured Daisy would be going to bed soonish so I started Neopets and hung out in a cozy house while I ate dinner and watched RP. Daisy called after a bit and I played Neopets for her while we chatted about our days as usual. At one point she was checking out her new Kindle Paperwhite and read 4 chapters of Black Beauty which reminded me of when mom would read me to sleep. It was very cozy and I hope someday she will read me to sleep.

Today I felt okay. I made sure to stick to my schedule real good because I know thats a good way to feel good about myself and justify leisure time. Often times I shift the schedule for the sake of a little more break time but I find I am much happier when I just stick to the plan and work hard. Then if I do that right, I have plenty of time in the evening to chill if I want.

#journal #diary

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madchild-dennis · 11 months

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If anyone wants to question my statement last night about fighting for the people of Jamaica because I have not given them solid proof. Well I want to tell them to "guh suck yuh madda."

But I won't. I'll simply say:

I may not have proof. You may want to use all the attacks from my parents are justified or to say I have no proof it's connected. You may want to make excuses for the attack I only have evidence/witness for seen in this YouTube video. Or simply you might say the guy was lying. Actually at this point, the guy might just say to you that he was lying, himself. So no point in me telling you it's true.

So the actual fight might not look the same like our ancestors. Like Bob Marley (who've been in surgery the attacks by his attackers), Leonard Howell (who've been arrested for his path) and so many more. I might can prove my attacks but, it can easily by shut down by those with the influence and big money. Plus I do not have ANY who'll unwaveringly stand beside or behind me in all this.

So the undeniable evidence is not there for the typical fights. But I'm fighting.

I can still say, I have the evidence of another part of the fight. The fight to obey and trust God.

To be what God said I'll be, QUEEN 👑, God ask of me to obey some things.

To not work.

God ask me to not work/acquire a typical job with pay. It has been hard to obey this, because one of the ways to survive life require money. In which the main way to receive it is to work for it. Plus it's not socially acceptable to not work unless you are already wealthy or choose to do something else like being a homemaker while with someone who's already working or already wealthy. Yet still I choose to do this for 2+ years.

Many who've follow along seen me mention that at the beginning of this, I prayed for death. I did not want life because of the struggles that felt unfixable. Struggling to progress my life as I struggled to work, keep a job or maintain my life. I was working hand to mouth. Every pay check covered only my bills and I had to neglect my debts. While my debts hindered progress. I still could eat everyday a full meal. Or sneak cheat meal/whatever fast food or restaurant I wanted and could afford. I could even scrap to go out with friends to events and outings. Even if it's by myself. I could buy little nicknacks, dress up, update my looks. Go to the movies or try a new restaurant. Still I wanted my life to end.

Now imagine, barely having friends. People I considered friends barely want me to open my mouth about this journey. People I've loved attack me, hurt me, neglect me and forsake me. I barely have a life. I don't have full meals sometimes. Right now when I don't have money I eat only mango to the point I got tired of it. Which aggressively cleans my colon which is uncomfortable. Not to mention to high sugar content affects on my colon. Then my favourite mango (east Indian) I can't stand due to the over indulgence. Because mango and plum is all I've been eating since last week Saturday. Except for a few things God approve in the pantry or a few KFC meals or ice cream I had when money come my way.

YET STILL I'M STILL GOING; STILL FIGHTING THROUGH TO THE END.

To be with the asshole (Raheem):

Let's start with the fact that the bitch has shown me and others for almost 2 years that he doesn't want to be with me. Yet still I stayed true to obey, even when he lied, fought or neglected me. Well that was up to almost a year ago.

I personally have a reason, I have NO DESIRE to be with him nor obey God when it comes to this. In fact, to be with him, if he start showing or stating he desired it, would cause pain. Not just emotional or psychological pain. But also physical pain, because that's how far it has gone to. It has gone that far for 2020 and he knows it but still chooses to hurt me every way he could. Hence my anger with God as to why he'd still want me to be with that shit.

In fact, I know how much that kind of toxicity, emotional pain and damage interferes with my life and capacity to function. I've been there before. Hence why I'm fighting it and confused why God insists on that asshole, Raheem. Therefore how will I even FUNCTION as Queen, if the person beside me who chooses to cause pain and suffering, would be good for me.

Anyway, whether or not I like it, it's undeniably what has God ask of me. You can try to say some convincing thing to say otherwise. But, I know what I experienced. Whether or not I agree, want to move on or hate it/him. I am the one God send some of the visions about us from 2020 (well, that's until 2022; I haven't gotten new visions about us since last year July or so). I am the one God wakes at 3 or 4 am to tell me Raheem loves me and won't let me go back to sleep until I acknowledge it. I'm the one who God changed my whole body chemistry from October 2021 to now, to emphasize his point or declaration of marriage. It may have died down or not as persistent since last year September. It is still such. Even if I try to move on, it still affects my life (I'll leave the rest of this point for the talk on the funk).

But as of Saturday gone, I may have to accept this sacrifice that affects the rest of my life (even if I had to kill him). Even though I don't want to. So that I'd receive what God declared, Queen, for the greater good for many others.

To obey his instructions and be guided by God.

Do you know how many people know people or have connections to get me a job, fly back to Canada or more. As much as all that would bring physical ease or more. I turned them down. I choose to not do anything without God's approval, guidance or instruction out of obedience. It is a fight as it makes me look, stupid, makes me uncomfortable and even attacked as mentioned. I done things I didn't have to do just because God asked. Many of which directly resulted in my attacks, harm or loose friends/support/people I could depend on. To be obedient in such a radical way is hard and lonely. Many people who'd love to have this justification or journey to use as proof of their righteousness or connection to God. Honestly I'd rather give it to them or end all of it. However, because I see THE NEED for change, I still choose to keep going.

I may not have the same type of proof like the warriors who've fought before. Nor the same scars, if I still have any visible one.

But I've been fighting and STILL FIGHTING.

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