#guess everyone's gotta suffer through my addiction

[foomoosworld]

THE RAVEN AND THE FIREFLY

CHAPTER 1 - QUOTH THE RAVEN NEVERMORE

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Joel is put onto garbage duty in the QZ and he finds a woman he never thought he would meet. She makes him see stars.

Minors DNI. Drug use, violence, overdose. But no smut. So we'll tick that off next time.

Also, welcome Stars Too Far readers that figured it out!

“Fucking, Tommy…”  Joel muttered, irate, as he stepped in the door to his house.

“Ah, don’t blame him.  He’s just working through some stuff.  Besides, if he was more responsible, I’d be out of work.” A man followed in behind Joel.  They’re both covered in dirt and sweat from working all day and their work boots clunked on the floor as they walked.

“I guess you’re right.” Joel stubbornly admitted, “But we would have been done at a reasonable hour if he had at least called and told me he wouldn’t be coming in.  His childish crap got us three hours behind today.  I could have seen my daughter before she went to bed.”

“Yeah, that’s rough.  They grow up too fast.  We spend too much time working to provide for them.” Joel’s co-worker says as he flops down on the old couch and looks around Joel’s living room.  Joel moves to the kitchen then points at him and asks, 

“You want a beer?”

“God, yes.”

Joel comes back and twists off the top of a bottle of beer and tosses the cap onto the coffee table then hands it to him before he does the same with his and sits down on a large comfortable chair, putting his boot up on the coffee table, swigging his cold beer and sighing with exhaustion.

“So… ‘Poe’... That’s a funny name.  I thought you said you were from Guatemala?  Is that short for something?”

“Nah… My father was just a big Edgar Allen Poe fan, I think.”

“Ah, ‘Quoth the raven Nevermore’ and so on?”  Joel quotes.

Poe nods and laughs, “Yeah something like that.”

“I never really caught the bug for reading except to Sara when she was little.”  Joel admits.

“Me neither.  But hey, Dr Suess is still a doctor, right.  That counts as intellectual reading”

Joel laughs and leans over to cheers Poe, “Man, I miss the years of reading to Tan and Amy.”

“Those your kids?”

“Yeah, Amy is 9 and Tan is 11.”  Poe nods as he sips his beer.

“‘Tan’?  Your family is big into unlikely naming conventions, huh?”

“Short for Tanner.”  Poe explains.

“Oh, right,”  Joel laughs at the now obvious answer. “I’d like to meet ‘em sometime.”

“Sure, well, you can meet Amy.  I haven’t seen Tan in years.  He’s technically not my kid but I raised him for a long time.  His mother suffered from mental illness.  Times got tough for a bit and I didn’t know she went off her meds to try to save money for us.  She started having delusions, thinking Tan was some prophecy from another galaxy.  She took off with him.  I filed missing person reports but the cops don’t care about a Gringo like me and his broke family.  Swept it under the rug.  I looked for them for years but they both disappeared without a trace.  I know they're out there somewhere though.  One day I’ll find ‘em.  She’s not a bad mother.  She would never hurt her kids.  She just can’t tell what’s real and what’s not when she isn’t on her meds.”  Poe shakes his head, sadly as he stares off to somewhere in space.  

“I’m so sorry.  Between the addiction problems, mental illness and everyone being broke these days it’s tough but no one should lose their family from it.”

“Yeah…Life happens too fast sometimes and we’re just left struggling to try to keep up and slow it the fuck down again.”

“I’m glad I met you today, Poe.”  Joel says.

“Yeah,  I’m glad I was available to help today.  You really remind me of someone I met a long time ago, actually.”

“A good guy, hopefully?”

“Yeah.  He really was.  Lives really far away so I don’t see him anymore though.”  Poe finishes his beer then as he puts it down notices the time on his watch. “Oh shit… it’s really late.  I gotta get going.  Do you need me on the site tomorrow?”  Poe asks Joel as he gets up and puts his jacket back on.

“Yeah, come on by.  Even if Tommy does manage to bless us with his presence tomorrow I can always find some work for you to do.”

“Thanks, man.”  Poe extends his hand and heartily shakes Joel’s hand. “It really means a lot to me that you’re helping me out like this under the table.”

Joel waves him off as he walks him to the door.

“I know how it is.”  He comforts him, “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

Poe thanks him again then turns and goes to get in his truck as Joel closes the door.  Joel rubs the back of his neck tiredly and walks into the kitchen with the empty beer bottles and puts them in the sink.  As he walks out of the kitchen to go upstairs to bed he passes a calendar that has tomorrows date circled that says in Sara’s loopy handwriting, “Dad’s Birthday”.

Joel shuts the lights off and goes upstairs to bed leaving the house blanketed in the silence of night.

…………………………….

A large dirty handkerchief is tied around Joel’s face and his clothes are covered in grime as he wipes the sweat dripping from his forehead in the blazing summer sun.  He’s taking a momentary break as he unloads garbage from a large truck into the local landfill.  A job he didn’t outright hate.  It paled in comparison to sewage work or worse, burning the infected corpses in mass open graves.  It could have been worse work today, however, the downside is the worse the work is, the better the pay is.

Sure, the landfills smelled horrible, so bad in the heat of the summer it could make your eyes water, but there were no people out here.  It was like being in outer space.  Just miles and miles of nothing.  Technically, it was outside of the QZ, but it still had a large concrete wall around it so the infected couldn’t get in.  The government liked to needlessly protect their trash and use everyone’s tax dollars on useless expenditures rather than giving the people proper rations or access to consistent clean water.  Staring at the landfill wall always sparked some silent anger deep down in Joel’s chest but it was just one of many things in the world after the outbreak that enraged him.

Seagulls suddenly fluttered up from a spot in the distance then circled frantically around the area, cawing and creating a ruckus.  Joel shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted into the distance to see what could have possibly startled them. 

“What the?”

A figure emerged on the top of the trash heap in the horizon, wearing a tattered shawl.  It seemed to turn and look at Joel and the truck then skittishly, turned and disappeared on the other side of the trash heap.

The driver of the truck came around and elbowed Joel to get his attention.

“What are you doing?  Get on the truck.  We’re done for the day.”

“Wh-”  Joel turns and looks to the driver. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”  The driver asked, feigning interest as he walked back to the driver’s seat.

“That person… over there on the hill.”

The driver laughed at him, “You’ve been out in the sun too long.  Here,”  He tosses Joel a water bottle which Joel unscrews and takes a sip but never takes his eyes away from the horizon to see if they will appear again.  “There’s nothing out there but old mattresses, wood skids and the occasional dead seagull.”

After a moment of staring into the wavy heat of the distance Joel concludes it must have just been a heat mirage and shakes his head to regain his composure then heaves his tired body into the passenger seat of the truck.

“Get yer eyes checked, old man.”  The driver says as he puts the truck in gear and it grinds into motion, jerking and bouncing over the neglected, gravel landfill road.

……………………………..

Joel is sitting at the rickety, worn, wood table in his dilapidated studio suite.  It’s a tiny room with dusty windows and cracked walls.  It didn’t make any sense to put money into anything nicer.  He had given up on planning a future beyond these cracked walls.  Not that there was anything nicer to live in anymore in the QZ.  Everything was crumbling and no one knew how to fix it.  From the living spaces, to infrastructure, government, laws, morals and hope.  From the top to bottom the entire thing was crackling like an old statue, every now and then a facial feature would just slide off without warning, forever changing the once beautiful place and making it ugly, scary and dangerous.  

An open bottle of unlabeled dark liquor sits on the table next to him and a greasy, fingerprint smeared glass holds a splash of whiskey still left in the bottom.  Joel  looks down at his broken watch in front of him, the one Sara had fixed for his birthday.  That fateful night that she was shot to death by military when the outbreak started.  The night his entire life lost its meaning and any sense of purpose.  But the entire world seemed to have lost its meaning and purpose that night, Joel realizes as he downs the last bit of whiskey in his glass and refills it.  Why should his life be any different? 

He gets up, swaying slightly and suddenly feeling how tipsy he is.  With his glass of whiskey in his hand, he steps over to the window to look out over the city.  The dust had amounted thickly on the window so he had to use his flannel shirt to rub a circle in it to look out.  He, mostly, didn’t want to know what was going on in the world outside unless it had to do directly with him so windows often had no purpose other than free light or an escape route.

No one dared to walk the QZ at night.  The military jeeps were full of young men, mostly hopped up on drugs that Joel sold to them, with itchy trigger fingers and anger from having their future robbed of them.  Joel didn’t blame them for their anger.  Hence, why he justified selling drugs to people barely adults.  They had no future.  They were born into this godforsaken place, would never leave it, and deserved a break from reality now and then.  However, anger and mind altering substances often make terrible bed partners and oftentimes innocent people would be shot after dark, almost as if target practice. The only ones scurrying around were the thieves, drug runners, some Fireflies and anyone up to no good.  Joel had been one of those for years.  Less and less now as he ages but, on occasion Tess will bring him a job and he finds himself trying to cloak himself in night as he’s dodging headlights and cowering in the shadows of crumbling buildings for a few measly bucks.

He looks down at the street below and sees Tess dodge across the street between military vehicles passing and he shakes his head with a sigh, “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”  His hand reaches up to his dusty window and draws a sad face in it.

The eye of that sad face flickered at him.  Joel did a double-take flicking his eyes back at the dust drawing he just did.  Again, he saw the flickering just beyond the sad face in the dusty window,  He quickly used the sleeve of his flannel shirt again to clear another patch to look out and there it was, clear as day, a small fire, with smoke pluming up from it, coming from the landfill.

“I knew I saw you!”  Joel whispers to himself proudly.

He watches for a few moments more before the fire suddenly seems to go out as if water was dumped on it.  He eventually turns and flops down in bed.  The alcohol taking hold, and the pills didn’t hurt either.  He would sleep for 8 full hours tonight, but restless, synthetic sleep.  Never the less, sleep that was welcomed.

……………………………

There’s an arm around him.  He stirs suddenly and looks down with a start as Tess’s voice rings out from her position curled up to him,“One of these days you’ll get used to me sleeping next to you and not wake up like I’m going to murder you.”  She smiles as she, too stirs from her sleep.

“Yeah, well… maybe you’ve murdered a few too many people for me to consider that option.”  Joel grunts sitting up.

“Hello Pot, this is Kettle and he is black.”  Tess jokes.

“What were you scurrying around for last night?” Joel grogilly rubs his face.

“You saw that, huh?” Tess quips.

“If I saw it, then you know the military saw it too.  Or worse, the Fireflies.”  Joel goes to put on a pot of coffee.

“Maybe the Fireflies sent me out there last night.”  Tess teases as she raises an eyebrow at him.  He looks over his shoulder hesitantly then decides to drop it.

“Why do you keep coming here?”  He turns and leans against the small kitchenette counter.

“Dancing is more fun with a partner.”  She snarks.  “Not that you are ever sober enough to stand after 7 PM.”  Joel shoots her a glare, pours coffee into a mug for himself and one for Tess and hands it to her.  She nods and takes a careful sip.

“The Fireflies did send me out last night.  There’s been camp fires in the landfill and they want me to find who is lighting them.”

“Hm.”  Joel says sipping his coffee, deciding not to disclose what he had seen the previous day in the landfill.

“They think it’s a woman and they want to speak to her.”

“Is that so?”  Joel fakes disinterest.

“There’s a big pay out if I find her and bring her to them.”

Joel puts his coffee down and Tess knows she has his attention.

“How much?”

“Enough to get us out of here.”

Joel sighs in exasperation.

“We’re not getting out of here.  There’s nowhere else to go.”  He states simply and slightly frustrated to argue this with her once again.

“You’ve seen it.  I can tell.  You’ve been on the landfill crew for the last few weeks.  You’ve seen something.”

Joel buttons up and sits at the table, concentrating on his coffee.

“Joel - “ Tess approaches him and crowds in excitedly, “Have you seen her?”

“You need to work on getting a battery for that car if you really want to drive out there to your death.  Don’t worry about what isn’t living in the landfill.”

Tess watches him intently for a moment.

“You’re a terrible liar, Joel Miller.”  She stands up with a huff. “I’m going out to the landfill tonight,” She states as she slings on a backpack and moves to the door. “Come with me or don’t.  I don’t care.”

“I won’t.”  Joel sips his coffee, faking disinterest.

Tess opens the door and before she leaves, she says over her shoulder, “Hurry up  You’ll be late for your shift shoveling garbage until you die on your feet.”  She steps out and closes the door.  Joel sneers at the door once she’s gone then looks at the time and jolts up, realizing he’s late.

“Shit.”

…………………….

The garbage truck jolts and jars as it enters the landfill as Joel sits silently in the passenger seat.

“You smell like a brewery.”  The driver says.

“Last I checked booze aint prohibited.”  Joel snaps at him looking forward out the cracked windshield.

“You got anything for me today?”  The driver changes the subject.  Joel sighs, knowing he’d be kicked of this gig if he didn’t keep brigbing the driver with fentanol pills.  He hands him a small zip lock bag with four pills in it.  The driver smiles and exclaimes, Ha!  There it is.  Come to Papa!”  He chimes as he drops a pill into his mouth and swallows.

Joel shakes his head and grunts to himself, seeing the irony of the driver’s guilt trip.  But that’s the thing with the younger generation.  Pills to numb the pain of living has become so common place that it’s not even blinked at when someone is high all the time.  But someone who works and connects and pulls strings to find alcohol is shunned.  Joel partook in pills as well, but he knew how quickly they could ruin your ability to make money.  And money keeps you alive in the  QZ even if you go crazy by not medicating with drugs.

“Get out and shovel.”  The driver ordered.  Joel opens his door that creaked and groaned it’s own symphony of discontent, then jumped down to begin shoveling the garbage off the back of the truck. 

He started by tossing out some large, broken and forgotten furniture into the landfill and suddenly, his back spazmed and he felt a shot of pain that sent him to his knees.  He cried out in pain but the driver didn’t respond.  He couldn’t move as he crumpled to the ground and called for the driver, “Crankshaft!”  He called out the driver’s nic name but there was no response.  He crawled around the side of the truck and saw his door still open and a cloaked figure bending into the cab of the truck.

“Hey!”  He shouted.  You looked back at him momentarily from under your hooded, tattered shawl, then went back to what you were doing in the cab of the truck.  “STOP!”  Joel commanded but you didn’t back away.  After a moment you pulled out Crankshaft and laid him on the ground.  He was foaming at the mouth, overdosing.  You began giving CPR, pumping hard on his chest, rhythmically then breathing into his mouth.

“What are you doing?”  Joel shouted as he crawled closer.  You worked on him over and over but it was obvious he wasn’t coming back.  You fall back, your cloak falling off your face as you panted, exhausted, “Is he….”

“I’m sorry…”  You say, “He’s gone to the stars now.”

Joel notes your odd phrasing of his passing.

“Fuck.”  Joel hangs his head.

“He was a friend of yours?”  You ask.

“No.  He gave me a job.  And now I’m fucked.  They will blame me for him overdosing”

“Ah…”  You trail off, not understanding but also not caring and look to the horizon. “Goodbye then.”  You get up, lift your hood over your head and goes to walk away.

“Wait!”  Joel raises a hand to you from his position on the ground.

“I can’t walk.  And they’ll blame me and kill me if they find out he overdosed.”  He knows pleading won’t work on people so he pulls out his bag of fentanol.  “I’ll give you these pills to sell if you help me to where you’re staying for tonight”

“The pills that just killed your friend?”  You raise an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah.  It’s all I have to offer.”

You approach him then with a studious pause lean down and wrap your arms around his midsection, hefting him to his feet..  Joel shouts in pain.

“Stop.”  You hiss at him. “We can’t hide if you’re screaming.”

Joel nods between pants and the two of you slowly make your way over the landfill.

It took hours but you made it to a small hill of garbage where you pulled back some wooden skids and tarps to reveal a hole that went down into the landfill.  You struggled to get him inside then pulled the random trash to hide the door again.  You sat with him in complete darkness for a moment before you fumbled around and managed to lite a lantern made of an old, dirty jar and coat hangers.  You grabbed him with your other free hand and hobbled him into a small room that opened up with a wood burning stove, a bed and a broken bookcase that had shattered kitchenware.  You lower him onto the bed..

“You’re the one I saw the other day that frightened the seagulls.”  Joel tiredly states.

“Yes.”  You admit openly.

“Who are you?”

“People call me Amy.”  You say warming up a kettle in the wood burning stove.

“What do you call you?”  Joel weakly asks.

“My real name is Ameo”

“Huh… I used to know a guy that worked for me who had a weird name.  He named his kids normal names though.  Probably the trauma of being named after a horror writer.  One of his kids was named Amy, actually.”

“Common name.” You shrug.

Joel relaxes into the bed as you pour the kettle into a bowl and soak long strips of fabric in the hot water.  You pull up his flannel and undershirt,  “What are you.-”  You place the long strips of warm fabric along his back and he immediately understands what you’re doing as the warm fabric strips begin to relax his back.

“What was your friend’s weird name?” You ask smoothing more strips along his back.

“Poe.  After Edgar Allen Poe.”  

Amy stopped what she was doing.

Joel looked back, “Are you okay?”

Amy’s hands shook and her eyes grew wide.  Joel tried to turn to look at her as much as he could.

She asks,

“Are you Joel?”

THE RAVEN AND THE FIREFLY MASTERLIST

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #the last of us fluff #the last of us smut #poe dameron #pedro pascal fluff #pedro smut #pedro pascal smut

[iamfindingkatie]

**Trigger warning** My experience with suicide.

Liver failure, heartache, and the constant reminder that you know you are better than that (suicide)is what I got out of my suicide attempt almost 17 years ago. 

There was that moment of despair, that telling moment when giving up just seemed the likely solution because if my life was like that then, it would not get any better ever. My mind was more concerned with the boys I could manipulate, the drugs I could acquire, and keeping the love of my life on lock-down even if triangles and rectangles were made frequently involving people. Yes, that’s right. At the peak of my addiction, no one could ever make me feel small. I felt needed, I had tons of fun and friends, and I was cute. I was completely volatile - everything about my life was incredibly rough UNDER the surface. No one ever saw me completely fall apart and I liked it that way. 

In a weird sense, my train wreck of a life needed to happen. My karma came full circle. Told ya. There was a boyfriend, an ex and his girlfriend and well….I was high. Like, at the height of one of the roughest addictions I had to face full on and stop (cocaine) I was putting nearly a quarter up my nose every day. I would have died. Eventually, I would have died and everyone would be shocked so….I did what any rational person would do. I overreacted about a situation that should have never happened in the first place. Drugs. You do so many stupid things….I was upset. Super upset because my world felt like it was crashing down. Everything was going to be lost and I had had enough.

19 tylenol extra strength pms and almost 24 hours later, my sister contacts poison control and I have no choice but to go to the Emergency Room and be evaluated. Acute Liver Failure. Nasty meds and “sitters” at me 24/7. All for what? I wanted to go to sleep? I just figured why the fuck not, hard stop here please? All because I made the wrong choices I was ready to end it before the actual drug that wanted to do me in. And before anyone even points anything out….yes, my stabbing came after the cocaine and proceeded to contribute to an awful opioid addiction which I survived as well. The best thing the government did was start making it harder for people to get those pain pills!

Every single day there is a journey I travel because I have to fight to make the right choices and keep my mind intact to make sure I do the right things. Mental health and suffering, writing it off as it’ll get better, and even refusing treatment really does cause so much havoc and destruction to everyone around you. I was done and tried. Guess what I got now? That ugly scar on my arm and the lessons on how not to live your best life. Everything you can do to make sure that you are a decent contributing member of society should be done. Do not fight it or self medicate. The demons will always be there, you just gotta look a little deeper to make sure you are indeed thriving and maintaining, and not just going through the motions and giving up when it gets too hard. Medicine does not fix everything and you really have got to want to be better in order to succeed. That's the most important part about all of this. Everything is up to YOU and how you handle things. Be better for YOU because you deserve the best version of life that there is full of peace and good vibes.

You can connect with me on FB on my page. I’ll always do my best to be a bright light for someone because my sister made sure I was lit up as bright as can be for you all.

Embrace Your Journey

[waywardrose13]

Night and Day

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4263

Warnings: Language, witch!reader, mentions and implicaitons of sex, angst, some fluff, not enough editing to satisfy me

Summary: You hid the fact that you were a witch from the Winchester brothers for years. After a run in with an old mentor of yours causes your secret to be revealed, the brothers find out that not only are you a witch, but one of the most powerful in the world. When Dean is given the task to kill you in exchange for his brother’s life, you must face the fact you lied to the man you loved- the same man who hates witches with a burning passion.

A/N: My tags haven’t been working lately. I’m going to put my tags in a reblog. Comment or shoot me an ask letting me know if you got a notification or not. Oh, and also- surprise!

“Dean, I’m serious. We gotta get up.”

You gently nudged at your boyfriend. A smile played on your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you. He whined and let out a long sigh.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty mintues ago,” you scoffed, smirking down at him. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re a joy killer,” he said. 

“A joy killer?” You asked. You raised a brow as your smirk grew. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said.

“Right. Okay big boy, up and attem, let’s go. We’ve got that case in Ozark.”

Dean groaned again. “We just got back from a case two days ago.”

“Comes with the job description, honey,” you said. You swung your legs out of bed, placing your feet onto the floor. As you stood up, Dean suddenly wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down onto the bed. You squealed as he squeezed your sides, his lips latching onto your throat.

“Wanna stay here with you,” Dean said. He raised his head to kiss your lips. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers running up your side, raising to cup your breast beneath your shirt.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” you said. He peppered kisses along your throat and collarbone, settling on the pulse point below your ear. “As much as I love doing this, we really need to get up.”

Dean halted his movements and lifted his head to scowl at you. He pushed himself up and off you, walking over to the dresser.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Joy killer.”

***

“Of course, it has to be fucking witches.”

You winced at his words. You had been in Ozark for nearly a day now. After interviewing two of the victims who survived the attacks, you had also spoken to the detectives on the case before investigating the victims’ homes. The victims claimed to have been attacked by a shadow figure. The other three victims had been slaughtered in their homes, while the two survivors suffered severe lacerations and what seemed to be burns. You and the brothers were stumped for a while, until you found a hex bag hidden in a vase in one of the homes, and another hex bag stuffed in a couch cushion in the other.

You always hated witch cases. Not only were they dangerous, but they were also conflicting. You were a natural born witch, coming from a long line of witches on your mother’s side of the family. You had the gift of sight, also known as psychic abilities, and you had practiced witchcraft since you were thirteen.

When you had met Dean Winchester, it had been on a ghoul hunt. In those three days, you instantly felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t describe. You never thought he would be interested in you. You saw the women he’d frequent, and you weren’t like them. You were in shape, hunting keeping you fit, however you had some stretch marks, love handles, and thicker thighs than you would’ve liked. You also weren’t the prettiest woman in your opinion. You weren’t ugly, but you were always self conscious of the way you looked. You were sarcastic, cursed like a sailor, and reserved. You had always kept a wall around yourself ever since you were younger, sprouting at early ages due to things you had experienced and seen. You were twenty-four, a virgin, and a bit awkward at times.

Not at all Dean Winchester’s type.

But after meeting up with the Winchesters a few more times, you and Dean slowly became closer, until one night after a hunt, Dean had confessed his feelings for you. He was hesitant at first due to the ten year age difference, but your relationship had quickly blossomed. He was your first real relationship, the first person to ever be with you entirely, the first person to ever hold your heart.

Which is why you never told him about yourself.

Dean hated witches. It was a fact everyone knew. If you were to tell him that you were, in fact, a witch, he’d not only break up with you, but you were afraid he’d hunt you. Although you had never used your abilities for anything other than good, you weren’t entirely sure Dean would be able to trust you after you kept it from him for so long.

You were one of the most powerful witches in the world. Numerous covens have tried to recruit you, but you turned them all down. You were nomadic by nature, a free spirit, and you didn’t want to use your abilities to do someone else’s bidding. So you stuck to yourself. You kept off the radar and hoped your protective hex bags shield sigil tattoos worked. When Dean asked about the tattoos, you had simply told him they were more sigils for protection- like the anti possession tattoo. He believed you without a second thought.

“Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam began. “We need to find out who. After doing some digging, I found that all of the victims attended the same addiction recovery group.”

“So you think the group is somehow linked to the murders?” Dean asked.

“It makes sense,” you said. “They all had this one thing in common. That’s what we always look for, right?”

“Right. There are only three people left in the group who have not been attacked. Since it’s a support group, anonymity is a requirement. But luckily for us, we have fake badges,” Sam said. “Marcus Wainwright, Brienne Tarly, and Astrid Waters are the only people who haven’t been attacked.”

You froze at Astrid’s name. You knew that name. She was the leader of a coven who tried to recruit you years ago. You turned them down because of the craft which they practiced.

“Who’s the leader of the group?” You asked.

“Uh…” Sam looked at the files. “Astrid.”

“I think it’s her,” you said. The brothers looked at you in question. You mentallykicked yourself. You said it before you could think. “She’s the leader, right?” You tried to cover yourself. “What if she used this group as a way to make sacrifices to whatever that shadow is?”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said. “Carla, one of the victims I talked to today, said that Astrid would always try to get the group attendants to recruit more people. Apparently Astrid was always trying to bring more people into the group. Almost like she was obsessed with it.”

“She was trying to get more people to sacrifice,” Dean said.

“Exactly,” you said.

“Okay, let’s find this bitch.”

***

Astrid still lived in the same cottage as she did all those years ago when she tried to recruit you. Cobblestone walls covered in climbing ivy. Black shutters hung off the gothic windows. Various leafy plants grew around the sides of the house. The broken path led to a great wood door. The negative energy rolling off the house made you nauseous, and it took everything in you not to pass out.

You were only sixteen when you met Astrid, only just beginning to truly tap into your true potential when other witches began to feel your energy.

“You’re strong,” she had told you. “Stronger than me. You would be a valuable asset to any coven. A threat to witches below your strength. Others will want to harvest that power for themselves. We can keep you safe. I can keep you safe.”

You could feel her energy was dark. Her aura was an ominous black, a stark contrast from your pure white. You knew she was lying immediately. You threatened her. You were stronger than Astrid, and that pissed her off.

“I can fend for myself, thanks,” you had said.

Astrid had simply smirked at you, patting your hand gently. “We’ll see about that, my dear.”

You never thought you’d run across her again. You had hoped that you wouldn’t run into her again. Not only was she incredibly dangerous to you, but there was a high chance she would spill your secret, and you would not only lose Dean forever, but you would lose your life.

Swallowing back your fear, you trudged through the woods alongside the brothers. You knew you needed to do this. Innocent people were dying. If this was your last night on Earth, you wanted to be able to save them at least.

The three of you ducked below one of the windows. Dean peeked inside, trying his best to stay as hidden as possible.

“She’s in there,” he whispered. “She’s… at an altar. She’s chanting something.”

“Guess we found our witch,” Sam muttered. “Nice, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile.

Dean got up in front of the door, gun in hand. You and Sam waited for his call.

“Okay, on three,” he said.

“One… two…”

“Three!”

A new voice echoed around you, the door of the cottage violently swinging open, a gust of wind knocking Dean off his feet. Astrid’s cackle filled the air, and suddenly you began to feel woozy. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, Sam falling down next to you. You knew it was Astrid, and you tried to fight it off, but soon succumbed to her power as well, your world going dark.

***

“How exciting!”

Head pounding, you awoke to the sound of a female’s voice. Trying to move, you soon found yourself unable to. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your limbs felt numb.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of the cottage. Astrid’s silver head was bent over you, bright emerald eyes staring into yours, a crooked, elated smile on her face.

“My oh my, I never thought the day would come,” she muttered to herself. A long nailed finger stroked your cheek, and you flinched away.

“Don’t touch her, you bitch!” You turned your head at the sound of Dean’s voice. You smiled weakly immediately at the sight of him, finding yourself incredibly tired.

You felt drained.

You tried to move your hands, finding them strapped to the table you were currently laid out on. Your flannel had been removed, as were your jeans, leaving you in only a tank top and panties. You shivered in the cool air. You hated being exposed like this in front of anyone that wasn’t Dean.

“What are you doing?” You asked weakly. “Let me go.”

Astrid laughed. “Please. You fall right into my hands and you think I’m going to let you go?” She asked. “You’re smarter than that, little fox.”

 “Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “Why did you kill all those people? Why did you sacrifice them?”

Astrid looked surprised. “Oh my, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She smiled at Sam, holding a mortar and pestle up over you. She crushed something inside, muttering a few incantations.

“The shadow makes me stronger. The more it's fed, the stronger I become,” Astrid said smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong witch. Stronger than your average natural born, much stronger. However, there are only two people in the world who are stronger than me.”

Astrid gave you a pointed look. 

“The shadow makes me stronger, as I said, but without the power of the other two witches, I will never be the strongest. If I were to siphon their energies from their souls, I would be the strongest witch there ever was and will ever be.”

“Pretty egotistical, eh there, granny?” Dean said. Astrid sneered at him.

“You’ll be the first one to die once I’m done with her, honey,” Astrid said.

“That is if I don’t kill you first, sweetheart.”

“If you only knew what I would be capable of,” Astrid snapped. “One witch has kept herself hidden. The Scottish bitch never can be found.”

“Rowena,” Sam said. 

“Oh, you know her?” Astrid said. “Yes, Rowena. Now, the other witch. Well, I met her years ago. She was just a wee lass of sixteen at the time, but she was already so strong. I knew she was going to be a problem for me. I tried to recruit her to my coven, but she was smart. Too smart. I’ve been trying to track her down for years, and I’ve never been able to find her.”

Astrid let out a dreamy sigh. “And then, by the grace of God, she fell right into my hands.”

“If you’ve already killed her, why take the souls of innocents?” Dean asked.

Astrid scoffed. “Oh no, dear. I haven’t killed her yet.”

“Well what’s the hold up? One less witch to worry about. You’ll stop killing innocent people.”

Astrid laughed. She looked down at you. “No idea how you’ve been with the man as long as you did. If I heard that, I’d run for the hills. Or stab him in his sleep.”

“Don’t touch him,” you hissed. Astrid grinned.

“There’s that fire,” she said. She smeared the green paste she made over your chest. You let out a small cry as it burned your skin. She painted a pentacle on you, muttering more incantations.

“Unfortunately, to siphon all of a witch's power, the siphoner cannot kill the siphonee,” Astrid said. “Someone else has to do it after I prepare her, then I could siphon it.”

“Well let’s make you a deal,” Dean said. Your lip wobbled. “If I kill the bitch, letting you siphon her power, you will never kill another person.”

Astrid smiled wickedly. “Really?”

“Sure. One less witch and we save some people.”

Astrid laughed. “Oh that’s too good. I’ll make a blood vow. If I break it, I die.”

“Fine.” Dean nodded at her.

“Give me your word, hunter,” Astrid said.

“I give you my word.”

“That no matter what, you follow through,” Astrid continued.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Dean,” you said softly. A tear leaked from your eye. “Please.”

He looked at you curiously. Astrid cut his bindings, letting him free.

“He’s not the brightest bulb, is he?” She asked you, laughing.

“Where do I find her?” Dean asked.

Astrid handed Dean a knife. It had a curled handle, various sigils carved into it. She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Go ahead.”

“You deaf?” Dean asked. “Where do I find the bitch?”

Astrid smirked, running her tongue over her lips.

“Right in front of you.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face. Tears streamed from your eyes now, leaking down your temples onto the wood beneath you. Astrid killing you was one thing. Dean killing you? There was nothing worse you could think of.

“Y/N?” He said. “No fucking way. She’s not a witch.”

“Isn’t she?” Astrid asked. “Go on, Y/N. Show us a little trick.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing this was all a dream. Wishing that you would wake up and you’d be back at the bunker in Dean’s arms.

But when you opened your eyes, Dean still stood there, that curved knife in his hand, Astrid’s evil grin plastered on her face, a shocked Sam watching from his confinement on the wall.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“If you don’t show him-” she walked over to Sam, hand on his head- “I blow his brain apart.”

You took in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the windows. Suddenly, your eyes glowed purple, and the windows shattered. The glass floated up into the air, spinning around and around, wind whipping everyone’s hair. It only lasted a few moments, and when the glass stopped spinning, a heart floated six feet off the ground. It slowly moved towards Dean, and once it reached him, you blinked, eyes going back to their normal E/C, the heart falling to the ground, glass shattering once more, mimicking your own heart.

Dean looked up at you in shock.

“You did that?”

“It’s her best party trick,” Astrid said. “Y/N here is an artist. Unless, of course, she’s blowing a werewolf to pieces with a simple flick of her wrist, or growing a thirty foot tree with the blink of an eye.”

“No,” Dean said lowly. “You lied to me.”

“I was afraid,” you said. “You hate witches. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You fucking kept this giant ass secret from me!” He yelled. “You lied to me for years! All that time we’ve been together, you’ve been fucking

“Dean, please-”

“How do I know anything you said was true?”

“It all is! You know everything about me, Dean! I just never told you this!” You urged. “Please, Dean. You know me. You know I’m a good person.”

“I don’t know shit,” he hissed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What?” You asked.

“Have you ever killed someone?” He snapped.

“No! I’ve never-”

“Eh, eh, eh,” Astrid said. “Don’t lie to the poor man anymore, Y/N.”

You let out a sob. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Astrid exclaimed. “Bursting a man into flames was an accident? Killing a father of four was an accident?”

“Yes!” You said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know how to control myself, I-”

A sharp pain suddenly seared inside your head. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Astrid grinned.

“Punishing her,” she answered calmly. You screamed as the pain became so intense, white flashed behind your eyes and your whole body went rigid.

“Stop!” Dean yelled.

The pain was gone instantly. You panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat mixing with your tears.

“Slit her wrists, Dean,” Astrid whispered. “You swore.”

Dean took the few steps he needed to be right next to you. He looked at the knife, then at your wrist, then at your face.

“Won’t she just heal herself?” He asked.

“Those cuffs around her wrists contain sigils that will prevent any self healing or harm to another person,” Astrid said. “It limits her power. It’s why she hasn’t broken out yet.”

Dean swallowed thickly. He looked at you, eyes searing deeply into your own. An anger burned behind the green you loved so much. It scared you. That anger had never been directed towards you before. 

But there was something else as well. Despair. Dean was torn. You were a witch, a powerful one, and you had lied about it for years. On the other hand, Dean was in love with you. He loved you so much, it scared him.

“Do it,” Astrid said. “Do it, or I kill him.”

She was bent down beside Sam now, lips near his ear, eyes burning purple. Dean looked between you and his brother. You knew he’d never choose you over Sam.

“Do it,” you whispered. You nodded at him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” Dean asked. 

“I’ll find my way back to you someday,” you told him. “If not, I’ll simply wait for you.”

Dean bit his lip. “I wish you had told me.”

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you admitted. He shook his head, leaning against the table. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Baby, you’re a good person,” he said. “Sure, I hate witches.”

You winced.

“But I could never hate you.”

You blinked a few times. “Even though I’m-”

He pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were misty, brows pulled together. 

“I could never hate you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Do it, Dean!” Astrid urged. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Dean, don’t do it,” Sam said. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ll wait for you, my love.”

Dean shook his head.

“Five seconds,” Astrid warned.

“I love you, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered. 

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. He caressed your wrist, bringing the knife down against your skin.

“Three seconds!”

He gave you one last look, moving the knife back-

“Two-”

He jerked the knife-

“One!”

You expected the sting of the blade, but only felt the release of the cuff. 

“Man, you should have had some sort of spell on that shit,” Dean said. He smiled darkly at you, giving you a wink. Using your other hand, you flashed your eyes purple, burning the other cuff off.

“No!” Astrid yelled. “What have you done?”

With a simple flick of your wrist, Astrid was flung away from Sam. She crashed into the opposite wall. You slipped off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. A wind blew through the cottage, blowing your hair back from your face. You stalked towards her, all the while a smirk grew on your lips, your fingers tingling.

“I haven’t let myself go in so long,” you said. You lifted your hands, seeing the purple glow in your palms and beneath your fingertips. You cocked your head. “All this pent up energy…”

“Y/N-”

“It’s almost like snapping a rubber band,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Dean said slowly. 

Using a blast of power, you forced Astrid’s arms against the wall. Keeping them there, you raised her up until her feet dangled off the floor. You did the same to her ankles, the strain causing her skin to bruise immediately.

“Y/N, wait-”

You forced her head back, a sickening crunch resonating inside the cottage.

“So much power… can be dangerous,” Astrid gasped. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nose, pouring out of her eyes like tears. You forced more pressure upon her, crushing her further. “I was your mentor once… don’t let it consume you… keep your soul pure…”

You crushed her further, your brow raising slightly. You smiled wickedly at Astrid, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “Rich coming from you,” you said.

“I let it consume me,” Astrid told you. “Don’t… follow in my footsteps.”

You hadn’t used your power like this in years, not since Astrid was your mentor. It sizzled in your veins and made you feel more rushed than ever. It was almost euphoric, the way your body burned with power, power that came from the Earth beneath your feet. 

You missed that feeling.

What you didn’t miss, however, was the creeping feeling of darkness. It would intrude your thoughts and darken your mind. The risk of using that much power was the potential that it could consume you, and you would flip darkside.

Like Astrid did.

“See you in hell.”

Using once last surge of power, Astrid let out a guttural scream as her whole body turned an odd shade of red, eyes nearly popping from their sockets, blood streaming from any open source, before she stopped moving.

Letting your power retract, she slumped to the floor.

Dead.

You blinked, letting your eyes return to their natural colour, turning to face Dean.

“You gonna kill me now?” You asked.

Dean swallowed thickly, giving you a small smile.

“No.”

“Why not?” You said. “I’m a monster, right? You hate witches. I am witch. Pretty self explanatory.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean said.

“You can’t pick and choose the monsters you kill and don’t kill,” you said. “You came here to kill a witch. I killed her, now it’s your turn.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean repeated.

You gritted your teeth, sighing deeply. “Fine.”

You walked over to Sam, looking over your shoulder at Dean. With a simple flick of your wrist, Sam was released from his bindings.

“Do it, Sam.”

“Why?” He asked.

“I haven’t let myself go like that in a long time,” you said. “I forgot how tempting it is to give in. I want to do it, Dean. You need to kill me before I do.”

“No,” he said.

“Do it!” You yelled. “Do you really want me to flip? You want me to become like her?” You pointed to the woman you had just killed.

“You won’t,” Dean said. “You’re not like her.”

“Yes,” you whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “I am. I killed that man when I was sixteen because I almost let it win. Who knows what else I could have done if I did.”

“Then we lock you up in the dungeon,” Dean said. “And we bring you back. But you’re good, Y/N. I know you better than anyone.”

Your lip wobbled. 

“You still love me?” You murmured. “Even after finding out?”

Dean smiled warmly at you. He took your hands in his, massaging the backs of yours. “Sure, I was pissed you didn’t tell me. Still am, quite frankly. But you’re my girl,” he said. “I know you. I know the kind of person you are.”

“You hate witches,” you pointed out.

“Eh, maybe they’re not so bad,” Dean said, giving you a lopsided shrug. “I mean, I know this one witch. She’s pretty hot, really good in bed-”

“Dean!” You exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully. He laughed, kissing your forehead, bringing you into his chest.

“What can I say? What you did was pretty badass. Not my fault I’m into that.”

You shook your head. “Okay, big boy. If you’re not gonna kill me, let’s go home.”

Dean took a deep breath, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“Come on, Sabrina,” he said. You gave him a bitch face, making Sam laugh.

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve got more,” he said. “Do you have a pointy hat? Or a broomstick? Were you always this color, or were you born green?”

“Yeah, this is gonna be a long ride home,” Sam muttered.

Did you like it? What was your favorite part? Send me an ask with your thoughts! Feedback is loved and greatly appreciated:)

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#one shot #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #fanfiction #jensen ackles #waywardrose13 #one-shot #fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #angst

[seeminglyseph]

Guess who can't fucking sleep again I took an ambien tomorrow is fucked but soon. Yes soon sleep will be mine.

(This sentence explains more than I thought it did, let's study it as things go further I can't figure out the cut right now I'll edit later but I wanna see what I sleep rite

Also like... the way y'all talk about my art makes me wanna hunt down my old art school teachers like "is it good enough now????? Now do I have the skill to go pro???? Oh god just give me more than one full grade pieces please???"

Like I do need to admit to myself that I was hampered by the physical medium and lacking in skills. But I fixed it myself years later, with the help of a dude online who just liked my work and started giving me really good advice. So I can be taught. But not by them...

And not with like two tons of muscle relaxers and a regularly dislocated leg, fuck I wasn't uses to pain pills yet... god my body was so wrecked by art school. I know all colleges are intense but art school was like "get used to working 60 hours a week minimum. You have to barter for every scent your art should be worth. We're not going to discuss at all how the art world changes, we assume you are joining Video Game Studio."

It didn't always look crap but it took me 6 months to feel comfortable drawing again after I dropped out officially. I was just as I recovered from a similar illness to now and I think the exact point of me getting me/cfs so I really didn't under stand why I couldn't physically handle a workload I was barely handling the first time... anyway they went bankrupt so who knows... at least I don't gotta warn people "expect to be paid pennies for ages of work, and putting in insane hours to keep up with penny jobs to keep getting through"

Artists have glorified suffering to the point where corporations think we can be paid in it.

Anyway. I dunno. You guys are so kind and considerate and motivating. You always seem to have the best things to say. I was doing 'typical OC artist' thing. And I just got used to not much attention being paid. Which is unfortunately normal. But arcana everyone has OCs we love and get excited when other people love. I feel like Muriel staring in bewildered confusion as people take interest in my fantasy world building post. I might try introducing a couple non arcana OCs just for flavour to see if I can still remember how.

I need to fix my old shitty designs... ir draw them with better anatomy. A person could get addicted to babbling about OCs and world building.

I feel like it's been a year since I drew my cat boy and that's sad... I should take a break and draw some of them as warmup. Though now everyone will know my trope habits. My phone wanted to make that habbit and... I have a memory device that a habit is not a hobbit. And samwise and frodo's two hobbits. So habit has one b.

For the record my memory is shit and I learned spelling with phonics okay it sucks.

#long post #tomorrow will tell #how far did i go off the rails #i feel myself sliding but theres no stopeing now.

[sweetside]

"But I said she... Eh."

Junko placed a hand on Kyoko's open palm, trembling for a moment and glaring at Kyoko with a shadow cast over her eyes for a short moment before she inhaled a large amount of air and let it all flow out her mouth.

"'Seriously,' huh? You insist on challenging me well after your safety is guaranteed? Fine then. I'll take this seriously. Just know I have something I want to settle before we go through with this at all: my grudge. I guess that means I gotta do... It. Sigh... I apologise for killing several of your classmates through emotional manipulation, deceit, and, in the case of my sister, direct murder. I've chosen to handle my addiction to despair in the worst way possible and I've properly suffered the consequences of that. Instead of already having a lot of friends, I now have to gain the trust of everyone I cared about before I can befriend them and my armada is now of no use as they're working on rebuilding the world. All of it. You're free to call off this relationship at any point if I show any signs of relapsing into despair in a manner that endangers people. I'm... Grateful that you bothered to offer a hand to me after everything we've been through. Thank you for your kindness, Kyoko."

Wow she did not expect that.

''I-I suppose you are welcome, Junko? I will try my best to see you as a human being worthy of mercy.'' The purple haired girl wisked her locks with a quick flick of her head. ''I think Celeste would want me to try and forgive you anyway, we will see how she reacts.''

'Now if you'll excuse me I have work to be done.''

#Muse:Kirigiri #shraqmuses

[theworldsoul]

Uhh warning VENT!!! Talks about self harm and shit... also religious bullshit and gender bullshit??? Like I'm really trans and also Catholicism really fucked me up so if ur uncomfy with that just... skip this post. Also if ur Christian and can't handle seeing ur shit defaced then skip this post. Also if ur gonna clown on this post as "cringe atheism" then fuck you because I'm literally coping with pain lol

:readmore:

Anways now that the disclaimer is over... here comes the real shit.

I... have been going through a LOT lately, jesus christ. I was HAPPY today, yknow? I thought I was gonna be happy the whole day.

I was dancing today. That's how happy I was. For the first time in like... a whole year... I was really so happy. I thought I was gonna cry. But then I got home. And well,,,, I did cry. But not from happiness. I just got my math grade back. A fucking 49 percent. MY AVERAGE RIGHT NOW IS A 57 PERCENT. I MIGHT FAIL MATH 20. I MIGHT HAVE TO RETAKE IT. oh my god I'm such a failure I cant do anything ever i try SO fucking hard but honestly??? I cant fucking do this. I can't, I'm not mentally capable. "Just work harder"... BITCH I AM WORKING AS HARD AS I CAN. I AM SPENDING HOURS AND HOURS OF MY LIFE STUDYING AND PRACTICING. I'm starting to think that how hard i try doesn't even fucking matter because I'm STUPID and all i know how to do is PAINT SHIT!!!! NOBODY CARES ABOUT ART!!!! IF I FAIL THIS CLASS I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO HAVE A HOUSE IN THE FUTURE!!!! A HOUSE!!!!!

I dont even want to be a fucking orthodontist. Okay??? I wanna do what I love: painting. But NOOOO. I have to get a "respectable" job that will "pay me enough money to live". WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO MAKE MONEY TO LIVE??? WTF??? THATS LITERALLY SO FUCKED UP. everyone deserves to live (unless they like murdered someone? I guess? Idk) BUT LIKE I DIDNT KILL NO ONE SO WHATS ALL THIS BS ABOUT WORKING TO LIVE???? WTF??? I rly gotta do all this shit I hate, all this shit I'm mentally incapable of doing... so i can have a house. Fuck this. Yknow with my average at a 57... I might fail this class even if I get a really good grade on my next quiz. Can you fucking believe it??? I'm literally so fucking stupid I cant even pass a dumb fucking math class god i hate myself. I cant fail this class. I've NEVER failed a class. Almost failed... but never HAD TO RETAKE A CLASS. that's the ultimate failure. I think my parents would hate me if I failed this.

And on top of that... I'm really struggling with uhhh, dysphoria and body image... and it's so fucking horrible man I want to rip all my skin off I want to suffocate god I want to KILL him I want to MAKE HIM SUFFER. I want to gouge his eyes out and force him to eat them. WHY WOULD HE MAKE ME LIKE THIS????? WHY????? WHATS THE POINT IN MAKING A CHILD SUFFER SO MUCH???

What did I ever do that was so wrong I deserved all this punishment???

Well FUCK YOU and fuck your stupid book and FUCK THESE STUPID FUCKING SAINTS. WASNT THERE SUPPOSED TO BE A WHOLEASS ANGEL WATCHING OVER ME?? PROTECTING ME??? WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT BITCH NOW?? WHERE WAS THAT BITCH WHEN... when I was being bullied? When I literally wanted to kill myself?

Where was that guardian angel when I kept making THE SAME MISTAKE over and over again and I KNEW it was wrong but I kept doing it anyways because it was the only way I could feel like soemone cared about me????

I bet that angel motherufcker KNEW they didnt care. DID THE ANGEL EVER ONCE HELP ME??? NOOOO. all those times I was bruised and broken... all those times...

Man, I was just a kid. I was SO fucking young. And I would come like a lamb to the slaughter and kneel. I would pray... ask for guidance. I would pray the rosary too, I would read the bible and try my very best to understand it, I would go to church and volunteer at church and do my best to be a Good Boy and never sin. I did EVERYTHING right. I literally fasted at some point, like a religious fast. I was devoted...

Honestly though? I think it was the same mistake I make over and over again, except not with a real person.

And you have me NOTHING. GO GIRL, GIVE US NOTHING!!!!!!! I literally used to self-punish for the sins I couldnt bring myself to confess. At my communion, there was one sin I didn't tell because I knew it was unforgivable. I still hate myself for that. But man, I used to try and do all sorts of things to somehow cleanse myself of it. I figured THAT whole ordeal was why I was constantly being tortured.

But I was stupid and I am stupid and that makes NO SENSE because if the thing I'm being punished for happened when I was a child, WHY DID THE PUNISHMENT BEGIN AT MY BIRTH????

They used to tell me that god handcrafted every part of me specifically for some sort of grand reason.

Why.

Really? This bitch really "handcrafted" me just so I could cry and cut myself nearly every night??? Fuck that. Like why would you make me this way. It hurts more than you can IMAGINE. The only reason I'm not dead yet is because of ME, MY strength, not any of the bullshit YOU gave me. I hate when people say "oh, god made u so hardworking" or "oh, god made you so passionate/hopeful/full of love/fiery/whatever" LIKE STFU BITCH THAT WAS NOT SKYDADDY THAT WAS ME!!!

you wanna know what he made me?

dysphoric, ugly af, yeah.... but the worst part?

He made me feel.

That doesn't sound bad, right? Well it's the worst thing on the list. It is my downfall, my Achilles heel or whatever. This emotions shit??? It RUINED my life. My whole life I was cursed with a fucking monster inside me. I kept trying to tell everyone that it wasnt me!!! I kept telling them that it felt like I was being possessed. But adults are SHIT. I hate adults. I want to kill them all. They failed me and their god failed me. None of them every listened to me. All they knew how to do was punish, punish, punish.

It's like giving an allergic kid some peanuts and then getting angry at them for going into anaphylactic shock or whatever. Nobody ever thought "hey, why don't we stop giving the kid peanuts?"

ALL THE ADULTS AROUND ME ACT LIKE CHILDREN AND THEY ALWAYS HAVE ACTED LIKE CHILDREN FUCK ADULTS

Anwyays that's how I ended up with all these unresolved issues,.... emotion is a tough one, like I literally dont have the ability to control my emotions at all, I can try and like, repress them but I cant make myself actually feel less.

My emotion hurts more than anyone else's and nobody ever understood that. I would tell them that it hurts, it PHYSICALLY HURTS, and they would say I just wanted attention. I would tell them I literally couldnt control what my body said and did, I would tell them I felt like A PUPPET ON STRINGS and no one believed me. Fuck them.

Healthy coping mechanisms? I literally self ship with Snape to cope. I literally self ship with characters my brain made up and put in my dreams to cope. I used to hurt myself so much trying to feel loved and cared about irl. Fiction is so much better. I sound like a loser but its TRUE. The sort of thing I need, the sort of love I need is like... a parent. You can't go looking for a parent in a romantic partner, it fucks everything up and you end up... well, let's just say it proabbly wasnt the most legal thing, but I wasnt thinking strisght at all I mean dude I was So fucked in my head when I did all that...whatever...anyways so thank u for fiction!!! I love fiction. Want to kill someone? Draw it. Then you'll feel much better!!! And you dont go to jail!!!

Well the pics here... idk, it was really calming to do this. It's new, painting over religious shit. I was gonna do the whole bible but I already burnt that shit so.... and I was going to cut but I'm trying really hard to stay clean... like really hard. It's so weird and like, addicting, once I hit styro I don't want to stop, but also it kinda transfers the emotional pain to physical pain, making it way easier to deal with. I just can't keep doing that because I KNOW it's bad and look I thoguht I was clean for a whole year but then I fucked up and WOW, GUESS WHAT MADE ME RELAPSE??? MATH CLASS!!!!

Whatever anyways here are my wonderful works of art I made while crying and cursing god (like I'm so pissed at all this catholic bs I believed in him again just to swear at him lol)

.... but imagine for a moment, a better world. One in whcih these saints whose images I've defaced are actually good people... a world in which they SEE ME AND THEY HEAR ME... and I go unpunished.... and I am embraced by someone who UNDERSTANDS.

I think I would cry.

Too bad that world doesnt exist and I just made it up to try and feel a bit better. Whatever, whatever. I painted the things, they're gonna dry. I work hard, I'm gonna do good on my quiz, I hope. I just have to be making it through, that's all it is, work work work without a break but I can proabbly do it. I'm really slipping I admit like the mental health is slipping it's getting worse like I havent had a "fuck I am afab" moment in such a long time so yeah...

Anwyays I feel so much better now that I did my little art project yknow???

#ughhh #parent your fucking kids #religious bullshit #adults dont fuck up the children you are in charge of challenge #religion don't fuck up trans kids challenge #good dick really breaks a motherfucker #vent

[dontcare77ghj]

The truth is,

Tony x reader x Pepper

Sorry guys, apparently this uploaded with half of it missing. And apparently it deleted the last half of my original document too.

According to the world, Tony Stark was a playboy. Well, he was either a playboy or a cheat but it didn’t matter that was how the world perceived him to be. 

There was a brief point where the world thought he had left his playboy days behind him. The world thought that because he was Iron Man and was trying to save the world, he had left those days in the past. 

But recently, the world had decided that he was back to his own ways and they couldn’t stop themselves from commenting on it. 

You, Pepper and Tony had recently all gotten together. You’d met when you and your sister Natasha had been asked to infiltrate Stark Industries. Of course, when was they found out you lied about who you were it caused issues between the attraction between you three. 

Two years later, you’d been able to put it all behind you as you and Natasha, who might as well be your sister, joined the Avengers initiative. The three of you had been dating for nearing 7 months and you all had wanted to keep it quiet for a while. The only people outside the relationship who knew you were together were the team and Happy. 

The three of you didn’t care about the world’s opinion and didn’t want to explain to them about something that wasn’t any of their business.

“Are you sure you won’t be able to make it tonight?” You asked the red head who zipped your dress up. “Though he won’t tell me where we’re going, I’m assuming it’s going to be a lot of fun.” You said, smiling at her in the mirror. 

“I’d love to, but I have to fly out tonight.” She said, smiling back at you. “If I don’t then no one else will and this needs to get done.” She added, pulling your hair to one side. “You need a necklace.”

“I already have one.” You told her, picking up your snake necklace. “It’s my lucky necklace.” You said, going to put it on when she placed a hand on yours. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what that means.” Pepper said, taking the necklace out of your hands and pulling on the head. She pulled on the head and revealed the hidden dagger. Pepper raised an eyebrow at you and stared at you. 

“It’s lucky.” You protested. “And it’s only one weapon. It’s not like I’m bringing a gun."

“Oh God, do I need to check your purse?” Pepper asked, looking at you sceptically and then towards your bag. 

“I am not putting anything in a bag. Everyone knows that is the easiest way to get caught.” You said, taking the time to necklace out of her hands. “I know you don’t like it but this kind of thing has been ingrained into my head. It’s normal for me.”

“I know. I know that.” Pepper said, centring your necklace. “And I swear I don’t have an issue with that, I just wonder if it’s because you don’t feel safe with us.”

“I haven’t had a lot of stability in my life or people who made me feel safe, but with you, and Tony and Nat, I’ve never felt safer.” You told her, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. Pepper didn’t say anything as she pulled you into an embrace and locked her lips with yours. 

“Now this is a sight I love to see.” Tony announced as he entered the room. “Are we skipping the date and leading into dessert already?”

“No.” Pepper said as the two of you pulled apart. “You two are going to have a great night, I am going to fly out to this meeting and then I will be back by Friday.” She continued, pushing your purse into your hands and then you towards Tony. “Get going, reservation is in half hour.” She reminded you. 

“Love you honey.” Tony called as he led you out of the room. “Are you ready for a fantastic night, Miss L/N?” He asked you in a posh accent. 

“Of course, Mr Stark.” You responded in the same accent. 

The two of you made your way down to the garage where one of Tony’s cars was already waiting. 

“You know, you could have taken me to KFC and I would’ve been more than happy.” You told the man as you pulled up to some fancy restaurant. 

“I’ll remember that for next time.” Tony said, opening your door for you. “But I have to say something before we go in, you look beautiful.” He told you, leaning down and kissing you. 

“And you look handsome.” You said after you pulled apart. 

“Thanks, I know.” Tony cockily said. Rolling your eyes, you slapped the man across the chest as he threw his keys at the valet. 

The two of you enjoyed a lovely dinner, filled with hearty pasta, strong drinks and laughter that would’ve made other tables stare if you weren’t in a private room. Happy came to pick you up when you realised you were both too drunk to drive. The two of you were quite intoxicated and neither of you saw the point in going to your rooms, so, the two of you crashed on the common room couch. 

It was Natasha who awoke the two of you the next day when she clapped two pans next to your heads. 

“You’re a bitch, Romanov.” You grumbled, wiping the sleep out of your eyes.  

“You love me anyway.” She said, moving into the shared kitchen. “Do you want to hear what I read this morning?” She asked but continued before either of you could answer. “’Tony Stark Billionaire Genius back to his old playboy ways.’”

“Were you on one of those scandal sites again?” You asked the red head. 

“No, I have notifications set for any mention of any of our names.” Natasha said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Do you want me to talk to someone about taking it down?”

“No, leave it alone.” Tony said, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Who cares what they think?”

“Amen.” You commented, leaning into his side. “Tash, can you pour me some coffee please? We gotta call Pepper soon and I need something to wake me up.” 

And that was the last you spoke of that article.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay here with you?” Tony asked as he fixed his tie. “Because you say the word and we’ll stay with you.”

“You are not using Y/N’s illness as a reason to cancel on this.” Pepper scolded the man as she put in her earrings. 

“I’m not. I’m bring a loving, concerned partner and trying to stay with her in her time of need.” Tony denied, making you laugh and then cough deeply. 

“Have you taken your medicine?” Pepper asked, patting your back lightly. 

“I’ve still got an hour before I need to take more.” You said, giving Pepper a grateful smile as she handed you a glass of water. 

Tonight, there was a charity gala that Tony had been invited to. Pepper had told the man that he had to go and there was no getting out of it. Because Tony hated to suffer alone, he’d begged the two of you to attend with him. 

The two of you had no issue with joining him at the gala, in fact you both thought it would be fun, but unfortunately you had come down with a chest infection and were bed bound. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?” Tony asked, sitting on Peppers other side. 

“Tony.” Pepper sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Go out, have fun. I’ll probably sleep most of tonight away.” You shrugged. 

“We’ll be back later okay? If you need anything call Happy. He’s at your beck and call.” Tony said, kissing the back of your hand. 

“Sometimes I feel sorry for that man.” You commented as Pepper kissed your forehead. “You work him too hard.”

“He’s a good worker.” Tony shrugged. “We’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Tony!” Pepper exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at him. “We’ll be back soon.” She amended. “Call if you need anything. Love you.” She said as the two left. 

It wasn’t long after you left that you fell asleep. If given the chance you would have slept well into the morning, but that did not happen. 

“Get your ass up.” Natasha said, shaking you harshly and causing you to wake. You shot up in the bed and began to franticly check your surroundings. “Woah, easy there, tiger.” Natasha told you, placing her hands on your shoulders. 

“Tash, you scared the crap out of me.” You sighed, laying back down. 

“Nope get up.” She ordered, sitting you up. “Pepper asked me to make sure you take your medication.”

“Has it been an hour already?” You questioned, looking over at the alarm clock. “Fine I will take my medication.” You groaned, getting out of bed and moving into the ensuite. 

“So guess what I found?” Natasha asked. You moved into the doorway as you gave yourself two pills. “I found a new article.”

“Seriously Tash, we need to have a look a talk about your scandal addiction.” You said, shaking your head at her. “What does it say this time?” You asked, taking the pills dry. 

“Tony Stark seen on date with CEO Pepper Potts. What does this mean for L/N?” She quoted, making you snort. 

“Do these guys have no lives of their own?” You asked, laying next to Natasha on the bed. 

“Probably not.” Natasha said, putting your head on her shoulder. “But not everyone leads such interesting lives like ours.”

“Interesting is one word for it.” You commented. “Ugh, I feel like shit.” You groaned, pushing your face into her neck. 

“Go back to sleep then, myshka.” Natasha said, running her fingers through your hair. 

“Night, sestra.” You murmured, falling asleep on her shoulder. 

Your sleep was cut short again as you felt Natasha move out from under you. With a groan you opened your eyes and you were about to question the red head when you saw Tony sitting next to you. 

“You’re back.” You said, sitting up. “And back incredibly early. Did you sneak out without Pepper noticing?” You questioned with a small smirk.

“No, you smart-ass.” Tony said, reaching over to pinch your side. “Pepper couldn’t stand being away from you for too long and decided we should come back early.” He told you.

“Where’s Pepper?” You questioned, resting your head on Tony’s lap.

“She had to take a call.” Tony explained. “She’ll be in in a minute and then we can order something real to eat.” He added. 

“That sounds nice.” You hummed. “Love you, Tony.” You said, shifting to look up at him. 

"Love you too, Y/N." He said, leaning down and kissing your forehead. 

"Okay, I know you hate me looking through those gossip rag sites, but I'm glad I did because now I get to kill someone." Natasha said as you and Pepper entered the common room. 

You and Pepper had just gotten back from a date in the city when Natasha had bombarded you as soon as you entered.

"You're not allowed to kill people anymore, Tash."  You said as you and Pepper sat on the couch with her.

“Well I think you’ll make an exception for this.” Natasha stated, handing you her tablet. It was already opened on a page and it was another gossip site. Before you could mock Natasha for reading another article the title caught your eye.

CEO Pepper Potts seen at lunch with Tony Stark’s side whore Y/N L/N.

“God, these people have no life.” You said, rolling your eyes at the headline.

“This goes beyond having no life, Y/N. This is straight up slander.” Pepper said, taking the tablet out of your hands.

“There’s nothing you can do about it. They’re bottom feeding vultures.” You told her, moving into the kitchen.

“There is something we can do about it.” Tony announced, coming into the room. “I’ve called the press. They’re going to be here in an hour. We’re going to set the and the record straight.”

“Tony, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. It’s really easy to ignore these articles.” You said, giving the man a look.

“I think it’s a great idea.” Pepper cut in. “Because if I see another article like this, I might just let Nat kill someone.”

“We’re doing this because it’s slander and I won’t let them ruin your name any further.” Tony told you, moving to stand next to you. “Please just let me do this for you.”

“For all of us.” Pepper said, standing next to you. You looked between the two and gave them a nod,

“Okay. Let’s do it.” You said, making the two smile.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” Tony greeted the anxious looking press.  “I’ve called you all here because, recently, you’ve all seemed to notice my relationship between these two lovely women.” He said and turned to face the two of you.

While Tony was doing the speaking you and Pepper stood to the side, you griping her hand tightly.

“Unfortunate, you all seem to have gotten the wrong impression of this relationship and I’m here to tell you you’re all wrong. I’m not playing with either of these lovely women and none of the slander used is correct.

The truth is,” He started, turning to the pair of you and reaching his hands out. The two of you stepped forward and took one of his hands each. “The truth is, the three of us are in a closed polyamorous relationship with each other.”

And with that, the three of you were out and the press went wild.

Taglist

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@5aftermidnight

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Coming soon:

Natasha x reader x Sam x Steve x Bucky

Steve x reader x Thor

Natasha x reader x Peggy x Wanda

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Bucky x reader x Steve x Peggy

Wanda x reader x Natasha

#tony stark #tony x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #Iron Man #iron man x reader #iron man imagines #pepper potts #pepper potts x reader #pepper potts imagine #pepper potts x reader x tony stark #tony stark x reader x pepper potts #the avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagines #Poly #polyamory #poly relationship #tony stark x you #pepper potts x you #tony stark x pepper potts #tony x pepper #poly!avengers x reader #the avengers x reader #tony stark imagines #pepper potts imagines #iron man imagine #tony stark x female reader #pepper potts x female reader

[initiumseries]

CAOS Part 3 - review

Uh, okay, so I think by now, we all know this show is terrible. Netflix gives showrunners a lot of creative freedom, and I think, for better writers, you could get some really interesting content, but they just seem to keep giving these assholes who wrote the travesty called Riverdale, so many opportunities to make more shitty television, and I feel like they really deserve to be limited in their ability to create/write if not stopped completely and thrown into a well with Julie Plec.  Anyway, I’ll try to break this down as best as I can into different piles of shit and this will contain spoilers:

Characters

Prudence and Ambrose

So, to be really honest, I watch this show exclusively for Prudence and Ambrose. Because, well, look at them: 

I wish they had more chemistry because they are super hot together, and I still ship it. A young Black couple? On TV? In this sea of shitty interracial relationships? I’ll take it. Anyway, of course, the progression of their relationship is ridiculous and frustrating. Ambrose decides at the last minute, not to kill Father Blackwood because he has a weird time egg thing that they don’t really understand, also he has the twins under some weird mind control for no clear reason, so they stay their hands. It doesn’t make sense, but it becomes clear, Father Blackwood has an insane amount of plot armour and ultimately would have to serve as a vessel for Satan. Father Blackwood uses the manipulated mind of the other weird sister to sic her on the coven, and she ends up killing Dorkus, whom Prudence finds. She then blames Ambrose for not allowing her to kill FB, and they break up. Now...this would kinda make sense, if not for the fact that they trapped one of the pagan witches and forced her to change everyone back, but no one bothered to do anything about the mentally ill witch who you all strapped up for a reason? Lol ok. Seems like an oversight on your part Prudence, but...okay. Clearly manufactured breakups are exhausting, especially since [young] Black couples with no serious relationship dysfunction are now an endangered species. It���s also frustrating because we barely got to see them....*be* together, especially after they returned home. 

Nick & Sabrina

So, I know from the beginning, we were supposed to believe that Nick and Sabrina had that kind of, Bad Guy, seduces the girl Good Girl, luring her into the dark side, hot, intense, passionate relationship. But their lack of chemistry and really shitty acting just made them really dry (which I get into here). I don’t believe them, and I definitely don’t believe that Sabrina would, once again, break a shit ton of rules to get Nick back. I just don’t buy that they had that kind of an intense, desperately in love, kind relationship, because they do not look all that comfortable around each other, much less in love. 

I personally find Sabrina utterly unlikeable as a main character, largely because who IS she? She has no personality, she just does whatever the plot needs her to do in the moment, and the actress makes Sabrina appear smug and unremorseful while she fucks up everyone’s lives. There is a lot of exposition of everyone telling us she’s this power hungry, manipulative character, but we never see that. She just does stuff and everyone is all “Sabrina how could you?!” and there are never, ever any consequences. I would have liked to see her push so hard to get Nick back and the struggle being, sure she wants him back, but mostly she’s doing it because she can. But that’s not what happens. 

So Nick ends up in this weird drug addiction, alcohol, sex demon spiral because he has parts of Satan still in him and it all just falls so flat and lame, because this show is SO bad at pacing, and these actors suck, so nothing is believable. The idea of him scrubbing his club foot, having nightmares, suffering PTSD, is fine, the execution was trash. Nick sees Caliban and Sabrina have one interaction and he’s like WELL, GUESS I GOTTA CHEAT. And just ends up in some S&M situation with sex demons and heavily self medicating, but none of this has any weight, and we don’t really see him...spiralling. He just immediately resorts to these things and it has no real impact on anyone or even him really, and that’s it. 

Harvey and Roz

Uh, they’re probably the most confusing match here, because there is no lead up to their relationship, there’s not suggestion, there’s no pacing. Just BOOM, we’re into each other now. BOOM, Roz is the only sexually active person in her friend group (lol of course the Black girl is sexually active. Gotta maintain white innocence at all costs), so she’s just ready to jump Harvey’s bones any second now. So of course, the show punishes her by having the pagans turn her to stone. And as if that’s not bad enough...

Which I talk about here and here, because honestly I’m just sick of this show’s antiblackness.  Theo & that other guy

So I was watching this unfold like, yeeaahh, they’re gonna make the trans guy get with the enemy aren’t they? And yes, they did. Cool, they didn’t kill him off, but I’m still perplexed at how Theo isn’t even a little upset that this guy was basically sent to infiltrate his friend group and sat by while his people harmed Theo’s friends, and also...used him? Like...we just...are gonna...gloss over that because he changed his mind? Lol ok. Sure.

Mambo Marie and suddenly Zelda?

I...I mean her name is Mambo Marie. I love the idea of Black witches finding Black spirituality and magicks through Vodun and a Hatian Priestess. But they quickly undo that, by ensuring that Mambo Marie only teaches Prudence in the presence of these white witches. And we see her...doing...an African drum circle (eye roll), only to be interrupted by the High Priestess of White Feminism, Zelda Spellman. It quickly devolves into thinly veiled racism where Zelda doesn’t trust Marie because she’s Catholic (says the woman who worships Satan, has an anti Pope and prays to Lilith with the same prayer for Mary mother of Jesus? LOL. Not even unpacking the fact that Vodun is an African spirituality having 0 roots in catholicism WHITE WRITERS). Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Marie and Zelda are a thing for no reason? After the way Zelda treated her? Why did Marie even stay? This isn’t her problem. This is a white witch problem. Okay. That’s too much to unpack. 

Plot

So, my biggest problem with almost all Netflix English programming is that they are so obsessed with aesthetics, and don’t pay enough attention to actual character chemistry, plot, story flow, details, pacing etc. Like...things that actually make stories interesting to watch. So they slap all these people together and throw them into aesthetically pleasing backgrounds, shake it up with so much exposition that nothing actually happens, and are like BEHOLD A STORY. And CAOS is *especially* guilty for this.

First of all those musical breaks were annoying as fuck. Musicals serve 2 story functions: advancing the plot or telling a story. These musical numbers did neither and were honestly ridiculously gratuitous, highly annoying and totally pointless.

What time of year is this? Why are we having pep rallies and how the fuck and when did Sabrina and Roz join the cheeleading squad, and why?

for the aesthetics and not for any real plot reason. It just seems stupid because now I don’t know how much time has passed between Nick going to hell and this, because you’re all handling it like it’s been a few weeks and is still relatively fresh, but suddenly, Theo, Harvey and Roz are in a garage band? You’re a cheerleader? For what? Since when? Why? These choices introduce more questions than they answer and serve no narrative purpose. So much wasted time on shit that doesn’t matter. 

Sabrina is supposed to be fighting Caliban (who is literally the only person she has chemistry with on this show and they killed him bc ofc they did), for her seat on the throne, and yet the trials only seem to come up when it’s convenient, and also seem to be directly related to her dealings with her coven, which is also convenient.  I’m so confused about Satan. His powers come from being a celestial being, and so, because his coven mistreats him he’s like...lol okay, well fuck you guys and goes through all these convoluted small motions to greatly inconvenience them and withdraws his powers? This is so petty and pathetic. Also, what’s the point? He could just wipe them out and start over, instead of skulking around inside FB then suddenly decides to track down Lilith. Again, convoluted. This plot is all over the place. Why does Satan need Sabrina to be Queen of Hell in the first place? He seems perfectly healthy. Why can’t he just rule it? Like...that makes no sense. What is he gonna do? Retire? WHAT is going ON?

How did Sabrina come back in time to herself stuck in stone? Is that trip to Pontius Pilate (lol) supposed to have created a loophole for her to save herself and everyone? This is giving me hardcore Twilight Breaking Dawn vibes, where, the show finally, FINALLY gets interesting, there’s real stakes, shit is actually happening instead of everyone talking about things happening (Hilda ending up killing her fiance was literally the only time I felt something watching this show because it was genuinely sad, and well acted, and Hilda coming through with that doll at the end was pretty disturbing, I’ll give them that), and ofc, Sabrina goes back in time and undoes it all. Lol. Okay. God forbid there be real consequences to anything on this show.

Final thoughts

Once again, the white feminism runs high on this show. They treat this Black Vodun Priestess Marie, like garbage, allude to her “foreign” magic, but Marie is sitting here like “we’re not men, we’re women, let’s work together.” This is why I hate white writers writing for Black characters. Black characters should have Black motivations, and a Black Vodun Priestess, should know that white women and Black women do not have aligned motivations just because they share a gender. Once they started with the bullshit right from her arrival, she should have handed Prudence her card and peaced tf out. Instead she tolerates the isolation, ostracization and thinly veiled racism...and decides to stay, and help. WHY? Marie has gained nothing by sticking around helping these ungrateful ass witches. I honestly would have preferred Prudence asking her to stay to learn more about Vodun, and them building a mentor/mentee type of relationship, especially since Prudence was the one who invited her and stepped to Zelda to defend her. I want(ed) to see that relationship go somewhere. The deliberate denial of healthy Black female friendships on tv is frustrating.

 These witches finally finding their power in their ancestors and I donno, some female creator or whatever, reminds me of white women “finding” wicca and praying to “Gaia”, (reminds me of BTVS s4 when Willow joins the wicca group) which is basically what happened but lol okay whatever. I guess they aren’t satanic witches anymore. Lol, I love how Harvey and Roz and Theo are teenagers, human teenagers, who have lead largely normal teenage lives up until this point, but see their loved ones tortured, deformed or murdered in hell, with basically no residual issues, and are all like, YES, let’s roll up on these adults with shotguns and swords and kill the FUCK outta these people!! That absolutely sounds normal! Like...what? Lol. God this is just so bad.

Also, I’m so confused by this aesthetic choice for Sabrina as Queen of Hell. Like what the fuck. Why is she dressed like a Victorian era queen, with shoulder and a broken rib bodice? What?!

This show is truly awful, this season made no more sense than the last two and now that Prudence and Ambrose aren’t together, I might be done watching. 

-20/10

#caos season 3 #caos part 3 #caos prudence #prudence x ambrose #prudence night #ambrose spellman #the chilling tales of sabrina #sabrina spellman #caos spoilers #long post #caos review #rosalind walker #mambo marie #zelda spellman #hilda spellman #harvey kinkle #theo putnam

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Four (2)

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.

.

After the party, Steven's going home with a girl he met, and Duff's dropping me back off at my house. 

Karen's car isn't here, and I rub my lips together, remembering what my wild imagination came up with. 

I suppose I made the right decision by opting out of having a drink. 

"Where's Karen?" Duff asks me.

"She's at a friend's birthday party." I reply.

"Oh, okay." He nods. "Are you gonna be good here by yourself or do you want me to stick around until she comes back?"

"No, I'm good." I assure him. 

"Positive?"

I look at him and smile a little, kissing his cheek. 

"Positive." I open my door and get out of the car, shutting it back, and he rolls the window down before I can walk away. 

"Call if you need anything." He tells me and I nod. 

"I will." I say, about to turn to walk away, but I stop and crouch down to look at him. "Duff?"

"Yeah?"

"I forgive you for not telling me about Vanity and Nikki." I inform him. "You don't owe me anything. You'll never owe me anything." 

It's as if I've put to rest something heavy on his mind and he looks at me, the corners of his mouth tugging a little in relief.  

"I love you, Vivian. Have a good night." He says.

"I love you, too." I reply. "Goodnight." 

I unlock the door of the house, switching the lights on, being met once more with all the pictures of us in our house.

I let out a heavy breath, about to have the conversation I've been dreading having.

But as Duff said, I've gotta start processing this shit. 

"You were right." I say to God. "The feeling I got when we were engaged, the feeling I got when we got married…I asked you if he was the one I needed to be with, knowing what the answer was anyway, and you tried getting my attention to talk me out of it, and I ignored you. And now I'm here." I sniffle. "I don't fucking know everything like I thought I did. I don't know my friends like I thought I did. I don--" It physically hurts to say this. "--I don't know Nikki like I thought I did. So congratulations. You win. Alright? You were right." I admit.

My throat aches with the lump in it, tears rolling down my cheeks.

But something in me isn't satisfied with that answer.

"And it's not the easy way out, either. I'd stay and fight for what's left of our marriage but I'm not fighting if he isn't. I've been fighting for him for four years. And that obviously didn't go the way I hoped, so I'm throwing in the towel. And I don't feel bad because you said you excuse divorce if a person screws around and guess what? I know this is shocking, but he's been screwing around." I state.

I roll my jaw as "reconciliation" runs through my head, before I'm grabbing my heel off my foot, throwing it at our wedding photo on the wall and the frame shatters while I'm screaming, "no!"

"I'm not reconciling shit with him, are you crazy?! You didn't want me to marry him and now you don't want me to leave him?!" I demand, throwing my other shoe, at another picture, wiping my tears roughly. "You know what, I'm done listening to you! You didn't save aunt Lily, you didn't save Razzle, you let my batshit crazy mother stay batshit crazy, you haven't helped any of my friends with their addictions and struggles--you haven't helped Nikki!" I yell. "Vince is right! All you do is sit up there and tell everyone what they can't do and you don't fucking do shit except let people suffer! You could give a fuck whether I'm in pain or not because if you did you'd be telling me to run for the fucking hills to get out of this hellhole of a marriage!" 

I'm throwing a lamp next, choking out a sob. 

Angry heat prickles at my skin and I'm starting to sweat, causing me to roughly tear at my dress to pull it off, but that still doesn't help. 

There's so many fucking pictures of us up.

Who's fucking idea was it to put this many pictures up?

Oh, right, the one who was under the impression everything was going good in her marriage. 

I'm getting all the pictures of us off the walls, one by one, throwing all them, throwing things at them, throwing other breakable decorations.

"I want a divorce!" I finally let out, my eyes swollen, by feet cut with glass. 

I keep feeling a nagging ache in my spirit, a mixture of myself and what I believe to be God, both arguing with my words. 

I throw the last picture of us at the fireplace watching it break before I'm going to our bedroom, dread filling me. 

I don't want to know how many times they've fucked in here. 

How many times he's had her in the same positions he likes for me to be in, hands in her hair, looking up at the ceiling to see her writhing, naked body, thinking how beautiful she looks.

I'm plucking one of the crystal balls off the top of one of our bed posts and throwing it up as hard as I can, the ceiling shattering around me with the impact before I'm going to the closet, ignoring the glass on the floor cutting at my feet, and just start shredding his fucking clothes the best I can.

It's still not enough, energy bubbling up inside of me that I just have to fucking get out. 

Eventually, my house key is sinking into the side of his Corvette, hard, raking down every side of it before I'm opening a bottle of wine and drenching the interior, before taking the butt of his empty shotgun, beating at the windshield until the whole thing is spiderwebbed with broken glass.

I do the same thing to his Mercedes, before I'm getting the baseball bat Karen keeps behind her bedroom door and beating the ever living hell out of his motorcycles, screaming as loud as I can, trying to get everything out of my system before leaving the garage, grabbing every record award from the wall and throwing them at the windshields of his cars, each car being stacked with awards, the fresh glass of each framed disc being obliterated once again. 

"I want a divorce!" I shout at God. "And there's nothing you can do about it!"

Everything hits me.

The first time we met.

The first time we kissed.

The first time we had sex.

The first time I realized we were actually dating and not just messing around. 

The first time I realized I loved him. 

When he proposed.

When I got pregnant.

When we got married. 

When I met his family. 

When they went on tour for the first time. 

When they went platinum.

When he bought this house.

Six years of my life spent with someone that just threw it all away for something I couldn't give him. 

"I can't compete with her." I cry out, having to keep myself standing by holding onto the door frame of the garage door. "I can't compete with her, God, I can't compete with her. I want to stay. I want to fix things but I can't compete with her, and I can't compete with the drugs. I can't do it." I say, letting out another wave of sobs, deciding to sit on the floor. 

There's still a nagging feeling within me, and I'm too damn tired to keep arguing with someone I can't even see.

"Just get me through this. Please. Just get me through this." I finally pray, holding at my aching heart. 

I decided I didn't feel right about wanting to leave him because I didn't have closure.

So I got that closure the best I could the next time I saw him, and instead of competing with Vanity, I let her have him, while I made the out of character decision to call Playboy.

[lonestarbabe]

Holding Out For a Hero

Chapter 4: I’m Fine (AO3)

Marjan is worried about T.K. and enlists the help of Carlos to make sure T.K. is okay. Things heat up between T.K. and Carlos... but in an angry way... for now. Carlos learns more about T.K. while T.K. starts to think that Carlos may actually care.

T.K.

It was a Wednesday, but T.K. didn’t know which one. He only knew that the pool cleaner had been outside earlier. The pool cleaner came on Wednesdays, so it had to be Wednesday. He was almost positive it was March but coming up with the month took a few seconds too long as alcohol and Oxy muted his mind. “Maybe you should slow down a little,” Marjan suggested, looking at T.K. with her usual disapproving look. If T.K. knew she’d planned on coming over, he would have saved the drugs and alcohol for later in the evening. Marjan didn’t consume either, and while she didn’t mind being around people who were drinking or maybe even smoking some weed, she wasn’t shy about telling him why he should avoid those things. She thinks I’m an addict, but I’m just having fun. As much fun as a miserable person can have, at least.

“Don’t be a kill joy Marjan.” She always wants to spoil my fun. Some best friend she is. I don’t need her to look after me, no matter what she thinks. Between her, Judd, and the new bodyguard, I’ll never get a moment to myself.

“Slow down,” Marjan told him again, pulling the bottle of vodka from his hand and putting it out of his reach. “I know you already had pills, and you shouldn’t be mixing that crap together.”

“Okay, Doctor Marwani.”

“I’m a first responder. I know a thing or two about these things, but of course, teen heartthrob T.K. Strand doesn’t like to listen to rules. It’s not cute to be a bad boy anymore.” She sounded annoyed, but her eyes were terrified. Look what I do to everyone around me. I put them through shit, and I act like an asshole, even though I’d give them literally anything they asked.

“You’re such a rule follower. Are all firefighters as boring as you?” T.K. lamented. “You can’t get anywhere if you go slow. Did Michael Phelps ever slow down?” T.K. added, grabbing a new bottle and watching amber liquid fill his glass. He took the shot of tequila just to prove a point. Stings more than vodka, and I kind of like it.

“No, he didn’t, and now you see him sitting in an empty pool in those Better Help commercials. Do you want that to be you?” Yeah, sitting in an empty pool might be pretty fun, but you can’t drown in it. Unless you find something other than water to drown yourself in. Wouldn’t it be funny to drown at the bottom of an empty pool?

“That’s because he stopped swimming. He let his feelings catch up with him. If you don’t ever stop, nothing can ever catch up to you. That’s why I gotta keep going.”

“Everyone has to stop eventually, T.K. People get old and slow. They can’t win races forever. You just better hope that you’re the one who makes that decision and that it isn’t the universe that steps in and slows you down.”

“Give me too much time to stop and think, and I’ll go crazy. There’s nothing that you, Judd, or any hot bodyguard can do about it.”

“Hot bodyguard? Don’t tell me it’s another Mr. Clean.” Oh, yes, the Mr. Cleans. So many bodyguards he’d had were bald and had an uncanny resemblance to Mr. Clean. He figured Judd just thought those guys looked responsible. Mr. Cleans were attractive, sometimes, but in a one-night stand kind of way. Let ‘em use you and then clean you away with their magic erasers.

T.K. shook his head. “This one isn’t just hot in an ironic way. He’s an ex-cop.” T.K. had done a quick— two-hour— internet search into Carlos. Carlos kept a pretty low profile, but T.K. had learned enough about him to guess how he ticked. He also knew that he had an ex-boyfriend, so he at least liked men.

“And you say that you don’t have a type.”

“He’s an ex-cop.”

“Still. Once a cop, always a cop.”

“I don’t care what he was or what he is. I’m just saying he’s hot. He hates fun just like you, but he’s hot.”

“Don’t harass him, Tyler Kennedy.”

“Don’t call me Tyler Kennedy, Marjan Marwani.”

“Marwani isn’t even my middle name.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Whatever. It’s not like I’m going to seduce him, anyway. I don’t do the chasing. People chase me.”

She looked at him like he was full of shit. “I’ve watched you chase plenty of guys. You practically mauled that big one last week.”

“Fucks, not dates. It’s different.”

“Yeah, because all you care about is having fun, I get it. T.K. Strand can never take anything further than a fuck,” she replied sarcastically. She doesn’t believe a single word of my bullshit, and that’s something I love and hate about her.

“I choose not to. Dates don’t like hanging out with party boys.”

“The issue is that party boys refuse to stay sober.”

“I’m sober a lot. Far too much for my liking, actually,” T.K. quipped.

“Yeah, I know. That’s exactly my point. You know, I rescue idiots like you every day. People who think they’re just having fun when they’re not having fun at all. They hate what they’re doing. They’re just being dangerous and stupid for no other reason than having a gap they need to fill.”

“I’m not dangerous. I’m really safe when I take anything. I don’t run heavy machinery when I’m high— not even my can opener. I’m careful, Marjan.”

She laughed. “Yeah that damn automatic can opener Judd got you could decapitate a person if they got their head too close.” Her face returned to concerned. “But don’t distract me with the Strand charm. I’m serious, T.K. I’m not worried about you getting other people hurt. I know you wouldn’t get in a car or endanger other people intentionally, but shit still happens. You’re going to do something to yourself that you can’t take back.”

“Maybe I’ll get a Better Help commercial out of it,” he said with a grin. When I’m washed up and the crowds stop coming to my shows, I’ll be one of those celebrities who has to resort to paid testimonials. I’ll suffer the horrifying ordeal of being known, forgotten, and known again as a relic from a time that had almost been erased from people’s memories. The voice from a song they used to love (or hate).

She punched him in the arm. “If you don’t shut up…” but she couldn’t help the smile that was on her face. “You look at the world so differently than I do.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure. Why are we even friends? I was trying to date a firefighter, not become best friends with his coworker.”

“Bob was forty-five with a wife and kids. You had to know it was never happening” Bob had a great dad bod.

“Why should that have stopped me?”

Marjan crossed her arms. “Your daddy issues are showing.”

“I don’t have daddy issues,” T.K. protested. My dad died a long time ago, and I’m totally over it. It’s not like he left me. He just left and never came back. He hugged me goodbye, went to work, and then just like that, he was gone. It wasn’t fair, but it was nothing he did. He died a hero, and now, there’s no hero left to save me. Not that I need one. I’m fine. Great even. I hate my life, but I’m surrounded by wonderful things. I would be happy if I wasn’t such a dreadful person.

“Your father was a firefighter and you wanted to date a firefighter old enough to be your father. Sounds like daddy issues to me.”

“You don’t get it because you don’t have daddy issues. I wasn’t interested because he was old or a firefighter. It was because he was hot… and looked nothing like my father for your information.”

“I’m just saying you never really dealt with your dad’s death.”

“It’s been two decades! Of course, I dealt with it. Mom made me go to therapy.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t take therapy seriously.”

“It only lasted a couple weeks before I threw a fit and convinced mom it did more harm than good.”

“See, you need to actually address your issues, T.K.”

“When did you get your psychology degree, anyway?”

“First, you tell me I’m not a doctor, and now you tell me I’m not a psychologist. You’re getting very predictable, Teek. And very defensive on top of that.”

“That’s not fair. I can’t say I’m not defensive without being defensive!”

“Sucks to be a loser.” Marjan made it her goal in life to win at everything.

“We all can’t be good at everything like you, Miss Has Gone Viral Eight Times.”

“It was only six, and I don’t think you stop going viral… ever. I always see your annoying face wherever I go— in magazines at grocery stores or billboards. I went on a date once with this girl, and when I went home with her, she had a big poster of you over her bed. Really killed the mood.”

“Any of the guys you dated have a poster of me?”

“One had a bobblehead.”

T.K. cringed. “That’s worse than a poster.”

“How? The poster is a lot bigger. I could shove the bobblehead in a drawer.”

“It’s unofficial merch,” T.K. explained.

“Oh, yes, the dreaded unofficial merch. How will you ever live without your cut of the money? You could have two Porsches by now if only you sold bobbleheads.” He didn’t mention that he could buy more than two Porsches if he wanted because he was sure she already knew that.

“The Barbie doll was nightmare enough. It looked like they glued feathers on my head.”

“I still have that doll. Just for when I need a good laugh.”

Marjan uncrossed her legs and got up to go to the kitchen.  “While I wish I could stay to talk, I have a shift in an hour, so I have to go. The captain doesn’t like my attitude as it is, which means being late would take me from his bad list to his firing list.” She shrugged. “It’s not my fault that I’m allergic to poor leadership.”

“That’s one hell of an allergy, Marj,” he shook his head at her. “If you’re trying to leave, the door isn’t in the kitchen. My mind is a little warped right now, but even I know that.”

Marjan put a water glass next to T.K. “I don’t want you to die. The hangover is probably unavoidable. But hydrate.”

“Why do you have to go? I thought your next shift wasn’t until Friday.”

“It is Friday. Hence why I have to go.” She told him impatiently. “Do you pay attention at all?”

“No, the pool cleaner came today. It’s Wednesday.”

“The pool cleaner comes on Thursdays, T.K. He came yesterday.” He checked his phone and saw that yes, it was Friday. Oof wonder where the time went.

“Fuck. Why does the week need seven days?”

“That’s it. I’m calling Judd.”

“He’s in Texas with Grace. I’m fine, Marwani. Go to work. Billy the Bully isn’t going to wait.” She sighed, looking torn about leaving him, but T.K. wasn’t going to be the reason Marjan got in trouble. Just because I can’t keep my shit together doesn’t mean I should drag everyone down into my miserable life.”

“I’m calling your new bodyguard.”

“No, you’re not.” He didn’t want the only times that Carlos saw him to be when he was indisposed. Carlos probably already hated him, and T.K., as much as he hated bodyguards, did not want to start again with a new bodyguard. If this didn’t work, Judd would probably call in a drill sergeant. Anyone but Carlos.

“I am. Maybe he can come sit with you for a while.”

“No way. You can’t call him on his day off.”

“There aren’t a lot of options right now. If he says no, he says no.” She’s so persistent. She won’t take no for an answer. Not with me, not with Carlos. “He might not be busy. He’s new to town, so he probably hasn’t made a lot of friends yet.”

“I’m not letting a hot guy see me in sweatpants and a hoodie.”

“That’s like your uniform.”

“Yeah, but it’s not for people who haven’t seen the shit show. I don’t want him to think I’m a slob.”

“Oh, so you care about his opinion? Give me his number. You know I won’t leave until you do.” She waited not so patiently for a response. “I guess I could ask Judd. Interrupt his nice trip with his wife, but you won’t make me do that, will you?” Friends are the worst.

“No, do not bother anyone. I’ll give you the number.” He sighed, fumbling for his phone. You’re a real psycho, you know that?” Marjan swiped the phone from his hands before he could even unlock it. She punched in the code. I really need to change that. “He’s listed under—”

“Hot Body Bodyguard, yeah, I got it.” She chuckled. “You’re so obvious.”

“Delete his number from your phone when you’re done.” He didn’t want Marjan talking to Carlos on the regular. That would be a disaster.

“Do you even know me?” Marjan laughed. “I still have Aaron’s number. This one isn’t going anywhere. I may delete Aaron’s though. I think it’s time.”

“Aaron?” He didn’t know who the hell that was. Was he somebody I slept with? One of Marjan’s exes?

“Mr. Clean #3.” Oh, him. He wasn’t so bad, but not at all personable. Hated the very idea of fun. Treated me like a toddler. Slightly attractive.

“Don’t remind me. He was awful.” T.K. groaned. He flipped his hand in the air to wave her away. “Go to work already.”

“Yeah, okay.” She finished up a couple of texts and stuck her phone in her purse. “I’ll see you later. Probably tomorrow, so don’t get drunk before five. No drugs either. I want you clear headed. I have boy issues to talk about.”

“I don’t get wasted every night, but okay. Cannot wait for your boy issues.”

Marjan smiled. “Good.” Before heading out the door, she turned to give him one last look. “Seriously, dude, be careful. I’d be really pissed if something happened to you.” Marjan always started throwing in “dude” when her emotions were getting the best of her.

“You’re the one who dives into fires for a living.”

“Yeah, but I do it with equipment. You dive into fires just to see if they’ll burn you.” She doesn’t understand that sometimes the burn feels better the numbness.

Carlos

Carlos’ plans were interrupted by a series of three pings on his phone. He picked his phone up, immediately having a bad feeling when he saw an unknown number. He was used to calls from unfamiliar numbers, but texts were rarer.

You need to get to T.K.’s house.

This is Marjan by the way. Marjan Marwani.

I’m T.K.’s best friend (reluctantly).

As he read the messages, Carlos stood from his couch, beginning to pace across his floor as his brows scrunched in consternation. This was not how he saw his day off going. T.K. better not be dead. I’m not going to lose that idiot if I can help it. I told Judd I’d protect him, and I don’t plan on backing down on my promise no matter how irritating T.K. can be.

What? Why? Is something wrong?

Carlos had just settled in from going to the store and was about to call his mom before cracking open a beer and watching TV. He was a worrier, so he couldn’t help thinking that something truly awful had happened. It can’t be that bad if T.K.’s friend is making jokes, Carlos reassured himself, but the chance that things might not be okay twisted Carlos’ stomach. I’m not going to let some bratty popstar ruin my evening. He’s probably just drunk and looking to do something stupid. I don’t need to deal with this.

Is it an emergency?

I’m not on duty, so I can’t just go over there if he doesn’t want me to.

Carlos had a bad feeling that his curiosity and worry would get the best of him, and he’d end up at T.K.’s mansion that was far too large for just one person. T.K. was difficult, but there was also something infectious about him. You couldn’t help but root for him or worry that he might not be okay.

He’s drunk and high. He shouldn’t be alone.

Please, just stay with him. He hates being alone.

I would but my boss is an asshole.

Please. Judd is away, and there’s no one else to call. He doesn’t have a lot of real friends.

He doesn’t even like me.

There was a thirty-minute delay before another text came in, and Carlos sat in suspense, worrying about all the things that can happen in thirty minutes.

Sorry. I was going to work. He likes you fine, and even if he didn’t, he’ll let you in because I told him to.

You’ve got blackmail on him or something? I barely know him, but I know T.K. doesn’t like being told what to do.

What you need to know about T.K. is that he doesn’t give a damn about himself, but he’d throw himself in a fire after taking a bath in gasoline to make sure the people he loves aren’t hurt.

Well, damn, he couldn’t argue that. Couldn’t say no to someone who clearly loved her friend so much. Couldn’t say no to T.K.

It would send the wrong message to spend his time off with T.K., but he hated the thought of T.K. overdosing or going out to find assholes to hang out with. He hated the thought of T.K. hooking up with some man who would take advantage of him. T.K. was a pain in the ass, but he was also a national treasure. Fangirls would never forgive Carlos if he let something happen to T.K. (He would never forgive himself.) This job is getting too messy. For whatever reason, I’m already too far in. Captivated by those green eyes and that lopsided smiled. I need distance because T.K. Strand is doing his best not to stay alive, and getting too close will set me up for a world or hurt.

He sighed, grabbing his keys from the hook by his door and heading out to his car. He sent Marjan a quick text.

Fine, I’m going over.

Good. I have to go. My bad boss is calling.

Keep him safe.

Carlos wasn’t sure if that last part was a best friend’s threat or a desperate plea, but either way, he didn’t want to screw this assignment up. I’ll keep him safe. But he couldn’t make promises because he couldn’t save T.K. from himself no matter how much he wanted to.

I’ll do my best.

Putting his car into gear, Carlos back out and zoomed down the highway until he got to a mansion set apart from the other houses. He wouldn’t admit to anyone how much over the speed limit he had gone. If he’d had sirens, he would have used them. Fuck T.K. for being such an endearing jackass.

He entered the code at the gate and haphazardly parked his car in the first place he could find. It wasn’t like him to be so impulsive. He liked order and control, and any lack of those things made him antsy, but he didn’t even notice that his car was 1 inch into the grass. He rushed up to the door, thoughts of T.K. being hurt or dead rising into a heart-pounding climax. What if I’m too late? What if I was too slow? What if I’m powerless to save him? What if I fail at this job?

The tension dropped from Carlos’ shoulders as he heard the deadbolt click open and saw T.K.’s head when the door swung open and Carlos was instantly relieved to see that T.K. wasn’t unconscious on the floor. In fact, T.K. mostly seemed fine.

T.K. gave a long, exaggerated sigh, and Carlos felt his breath momentarily constrict again. He looked good. Anyone with eyes could see that, but Carlos had self-control. He didn’t act like an animal just because he spotted a pretty person. He’s a ten, but he’s also off limits. He’s narcissistic and obnoxious. Maybe a little sweet, but he’s not good for me. He’s danger, and I had enough of that when I was a cop. I flew too close too the sun, but this guy, he’s flying in the center of the sun.

For someone who was supposedly in danger, T.K. looked like he had complete command over his situation. He wore a hot pink and baby blue striped button down with black skinny jeans that hugged his lean legs in ways Carlos didn’t allow himself to think about too much. He averted his eyes, being sure to look at T.K.’s face, which was just as overwhelming. Carlos noticed T.K.’s eyes were bloodshot with deep bags underneath. A person can hide under clothes, but the eyes, those emerald eyes, always tell the truth.

T.K. looked markedly too nice for a night in, looking and smelling like he was about to go on a date. Freshly misted cologne hitting Carlos’ nose— vanilla, cinnamon, and sandalwood. There was an underlying bitterness to his scent—cloves— but it was just enough to offset what would be otherwise cloying. “Are you okay?” Carlos finally asked.

“Yeah, but I have a little alcohol and Marjan thinks I’ve gone off the deep end.” That’s a can of worms that I am not even going to begin to unpack. “I’m obviously fine.”

“Fine or not, I’m here now. Might be nice to have a little company.” The more Carlos looked at T.K., the less fine he seemed to be. He didn’t seem as outwardly wasted as when they first met, but T.K.’s uncontrollable smile and aimless eyes told Carlos all he needed to know. The blissed-out look was chillingly familiar to him, so much so that he had the instinct to get in his car and speed away, but his sense of duty was too strong, and even as his past chased him, Carlos couldn’t look away from T.K. Maybe things can be different than they were with Taylor. Maybe not, but how can I in good conscience give up before I try? “I’m here,” Carlos reiterated. And I’m not going anywhere.

“I see that.” T.K. gave him a once over, licking his lips. “And you look very good doing it.” He’s just a flirt. I can’t let it get to my head. I have to protect him. Not fuck him. T.K.’s words were dripping with forced pleasantness, and Carlos couldn’t quite figure out what T.K. was really feeling beyond the happy highness. Silence fell between them.

T.K. bit his lip, looking down a little. The mood shifted. “I know you don’t want to be here. Don’t worry, Judd will pay you for your babysitting.” Carlos wanted to argue that he wasn’t here for the money or insist that he did care, but the air between him and T.K. had turned so suddenly sour that words swirled in his head with nothing to ground them into cohesive sentences. The smell of cloves was trapped in his nose and he tried to search for the vanilla and cinnamon, warm and pleasantly biting. “I’m sure Marjan will report back to him when he gets back from his trip. He’ll fret over me because it would be such a shame if I died and couldn’t make him any more money.” T.K. cracked a mechanical grin that clashed with the bitter tone in his voice. “He’d probably be relieved not to have me bothering him.” He’s got it all wrong, but I can’t tell him that. I barely even know him.

Carlos wanted to shake T.K. and tell him that Judd would be devastated if something happened to him, but he knew if he was too sincere, T.K. would retreat into the safety of humor and lightheartedness. He would become the happy and carefree T.K. that substances created to hide the sorrow. I have to learn to roll with his jokes and self-deprecation, even hearing it horrifies me. “I’ve heard that posthumous sales aren’t half bad. The initial spike… might be something to consider,” Carlos replied wryly. When there was more silence, Carlos wondered if he’d made a fatal misstep. Maybe I don’t have as good of a grasp on the situation as I thought. What if I’m losing him?

A flash of shock came over T.K.’s face before his lips upturned slightly and his head tilted to the side with curiosity. “You really busting my balls right now?”

Carlos kept the impassive look on his face, forcing his lips not to turn up. “I suppose I am.”

T.K. shook his head, the dark cloud lifting from his features just a little. Back to carefree T.K., and Carlos wasn’t sure if it was for the best or the worse. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely happy. “I can’t believe that of all the bodyguards in the bodyguard factory, you’re the one they sent me.” Back to joking, the cold tone dissipated in the early evening air.

“And I can’t believe that of all the popstars in the popstar factory, you’re the one I got sent to,” Carlos countered. He could keep up with banter if he needed to. He could even throw in some harmless flirting if it helped get through to T.K., but he couldn’t cross any lines beyond that. I know all about how crossing one line can lead to crossing more. I need boundaries if this is going to work. I must be careful for T.K.’s sake and mine.

“Rockstar,” T.K. corrected.

“You don’t sing rock music, popstar,” Carlos reminded him.

“It’s a—”

“State of mind. I know. Now, are you going to let me in? Or do I have to stand out here all evening fighting with you about the definition of a rockstar?”

T.K.’s head tilted again, this time in thought. “I don’t think I have much of a choice. Marjan will kill me if I make you stand on the porch,” T.K. answered, opening the door wider and leading Carlos into the living room. The stench of alcohol immediately hit Carlos’ nose and bottles were sprawled on a chair.

“That’s a lot of bottles,” Carlos commented.

“Some of them are old.” Some, not all. Not even most. Some. “It’s funny because sometimes when it’s dark, there’s so many of them there that it almost looks like a person sitting in the chair. I’ve gotten startled a couple times by it. Sometimes, though, it’s nice not to feel alone.” The honesty of the words struck Carlos. He’s got so many demons I haven’t even seen yet. He opened his mouth but quickly closed it again in the absence of having a meaningful response.  T.K. caught on to what he had said and backtracked. “I didn’t mean that seriously, you know. It was just a joke. I mean, there’s always people around me. Celebrities can’t escape people. I’m not really lonely.” The only people who feel the need to insist they are not lonely are the ones who are, in fact, lonely.

Carlos forced a laugh. “Right, a joke. You tell a lot of those.”

“Maybe. It’s more fun that way. I’m really funny when I’m not sober, so funny that people think I’m serious. It makes me a man of mystery I guess.” Oh yes, a mystery I’m afraid to investigate but desperate to know.

“Speaking of not sober, how much alcohol did you have?” He wanted a grasp on how bad the situation was.

“I’m fine.” Carlos had been a cop. He was used to dodgy answers, but they still frustrated the hell out of him. He’s testing me. Trying to see if he can make me mad. I won’t let him. I have to be patient and keep my temper in check.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Fewer than all the bottles on that chair.” T.K. added, “A lot fewer. I’m not trying to die tonight.” Tonight, that’s what I’m worried about. What about the other nights?

“How much?” Carlos asked with his no nonsense cop voice. It’s been a while since I’ve used that.

T.K. looked unimpressed at the question. “Several shots. I didn’t even have a full bottle of tequila. But shots are just bad if you only do one, so you have to keep going until you feel something. By the time the first one kicks in, you realize that the rest will be by shortly to hit you with a fucking hammer.” Carlos fought the headache that T.K.’s drunken logic was creating. He rubbed a hand across his temple, wiping the sweat and stress from his brow. He forced his facial features to relax. I need to keep those emotions in their place or else I won’t be able to understand what he’s saying. I have to listen.

“Pills?”

T.K. shrugged, looking at his hands cagily, which gave Carlos a pretty good idea of what he was dealing with. An addict who will try getting high on pretty much anything.

“T.K., I need to know.” He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do with the information, but it seemed like something he should know in case anything happened.

T.K.’s voice was quiet, and Carlos barely heard it over the murmuring of the central air working hard to cool the huge house. “Some Oxy. My favorite.” Carlos would put that piece of information into the T.K. file that he was compiling in his head, all the things that might come in handy someday when the inevitably awful stuff happened.

Yawning, T.K. plopped down onto the couch, and Carlos went to the kitchen and grabbed a recycling bin. He began loading the empty bottles into it. “You don’t have to do that,” T.K. protested. “It’s not your job.”

“I know, but it doesn’t help you to keep these here,” and to be honest, they were driving Carlos a little crazy.

“Why are you so nice?” It sounded like an accusation, skeptical and angry.

“I’m not.” I’m just bad at sitting around helplessly. I need something to keep me busy, and I hate looking at all those bottles and seeing him like this. “I like to keep my hands busy.”

T.K. winked, a sloppy wink. “I can think of a better use for those hands.” Oh, no. He did not just go there.

Carlos panicked. His jaw clenching. “Do not do that.”

“Do what?” T.K. asked as if he was completely innocent.

“Hit on me.”

“You weren’t supposed to be so hot.” Shut him up. Shut him up!

“I’m not hot. I’m just a guy, okay? Just a normal guy.”

“Normal, yeah, okay. Did you know that I’m really good with my mouth? I mean more than singing and stuff. I put enough junk in it to know how to use it.” T.K.’s eyes filled with hunger. He’s not thinking clearly. He doesn’t actually want me. He’s just horny. Carlos felt like putting his fingers in his ears and screaming “la, la, la, la, la.”

“Stop it. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“But if it was sober? Would you be interested?” He’s so desperate to be wanted. He doesn’t even care who wants him.

“It would still be a no.”

“Why? Aren’t I attractive?” Oh yes, far too attractive for your own good.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m your bodyguard. I can’t be blurring those lines.”

T.K. raised his eyebrows. “The more you know my body, the better you can guard it.”

“I said no. You can respect that, can’t you?” Carlos’ voice was agitated. His anger radiated through the room and spread to T.K.

“I don’t force anything on anyone,” T.K.’s voice was sharp. “I wouldn’t want to fuck someone with a stick up his ass anyways.”

“You don’t get to be an asshole just because things don’t go your way. Maybe try facing your feelings instead of getting mad and acting like a diva when any semblance of a bad feeling enters your mind.” So much for containing my temper.

“Wow, Mr. Nice Guy does have a backbone, after all.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Being an asshole?”

“You’re trying to see how many buttons you can push before I get up, leave, and never come back.”

T.K.’s face fell. “Why does everyone think they have fucking psychology degrees?”

“What?” What in the world is he talking about?

T.K. didn’t explain. “You don’t have to stay. I don’t care either way. I’m happy enough alone. Just leave me alone.”

“I don’t have to leave.” He took a breath. It’d been a long time since he had tried to handle someone so self-defeating and so scared to let anyone get too close. “I don’t want to leave.” Part of him wanted to run for the hills and stop the attachment he was feeling for T.K. Like T.K., Carlos was scared of letting anyone get too close. He was scared of knowing people too well, which was why he’d planned on spending his Friday alone. But I don’t want to be alone.

“You should want to leave.”

“But I don’t want to.” If only I could get it through his thick skull that some people just want him around. They don’t care if he is a singer or famous or a party boy. They just want to have him. Judd, Marjan, even me. We want him to be the person he’s happiest being and not this person who can’t stand to look himself in the mirror or the person who never shows the real him because he’s afraid no one will like it.

“What made you so stubborn?” T.K. paused to think. “Or should I say who?” Don’t think about Taylor. Now’s not the time. No need to make unnecessary comparisons.

Carlos crossed his arms as if it would help him keep all the feelings rushing through his body contained. “I was born a week late and put my mom through eight hours of labor. I was born stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, I was born a good person. Now, I’m a piece of shit, so how we come into this world doesn’t have much to do with how we go out.” Hopefully, we won’t be going out any time soon. Hopefully, he doesn’t want to.

“What do you like most about yourself?” Carlos asked, and it felt abrupt, but he had wanted to catch T.K. off guard.

“Why does it matter?” T.K. was already defensive, and the question made him more resistant.

“No questions, just tell me.”

“Oh, bossy. I like it,” T.K. said more biting than flirty.

“Favorite part of yourself?” Carlos pushed.

T.K. was quiet for a few moments. His tone softened. “Hard choice there’s so much to like,” he tried to act confident, but Carlos could hear his voice cracking. “but I guess the thing people like most about me is that I’m fun, the life of the party.” Is that all he’s got?

“Why is it that you love to talk about yourself until I actually ask you to tell me something about yourself and then all you can talk about is what other people think.”

“Here’s the thing, Carlos. Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not that interesting. I’m not that deep either. I’m just a vapid popstar who people like to think they know.” It sounded like defeat, and Carlos didn’t think the word popstar could ever sound so sad.

“You know what,” Carlos concluded. “Maybe you’re a rockstar after all.” T.K. looked up from his hands, eyes looking hopeful. Then, to make it sound less serious Carlos added, “Rockstar is a state of mind, after all.”

T.K. grinned at the inside joke, perking up a bit and letting a tentative grin appear on his face. “But I do play pop music,” he said. “So, maybe I’d rather be a popstar.” His eyes lingered on Carlos, “That stays between us, though.”

“Okay, popstar,” Carlos said clapping T.K. on the shoulder, and T.K.’s eyes flickered with something Carlos couldn’t quite make out. There’s so much to learn about T.K. Strand, so much that even his most devoted fans have even discovered. There’s a good person in there beneath all the layers of bravado. You don’t even have to dig that far to find them, but I want to bring that person out. I want to show him that there’s a place for the T.K. who can be happy.

#My Stuff #911 Lone Star #911 Lone Star Fics #my writing #Elise writes #fics #holding out for a hero #Season 1

[perspective-series]

Vampire Perspective (13/17)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: tears, talk of owning people, talk of #rude relatives, grief (?)

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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 Logan’s confusion soon turned to pure shock as he looked up at Virgil. “Are you...are you crying?”

“NO.” Virgil growled, feeling the tears leaking down his cheeks even as he kept his eyes shut. 

 Logan didn’t know what to do. He was terrible with emotional outbursts like this, even worse when that person was his captor and had never shown anything like this before. “Why...why are you so upset over this? You said it yourself, you still plan on eating me eventually and even encourage Patton to eat Roman...I don’t understand.”

“It’s better that way.” Virgil tried to choke through his tears. “You- you’re too weak on your own, and at least it helps us. It’s just cruel to drag it out like this. Circle of freakin’ life.”

 “You really don’t seem too happy about that. Or even really believe it.” Logan commented softly.

“I’ve seen it happen!” Virgil cried out, finally opening his eyes to reveal how irritated they had become. “Yeah it’s absolutely wretched but the world is full of wretched creatures like me and the ones who try to survive just get crushed if they end up in our path. It’s a vicious cycle where the strong get stronger and mercy is just another term for weakness. You have to look out for yourself and your coven, and do what’s best for them.”

 Logan was silent, taking this all in. Virgil was clearly frustrated, bordering on angry so Logan didn’t know why he said what he did next. “You’ve...never eaten a borrower before, have you?” Logan asked, remembering an earlier question Virgil had shot down before. Everything was lining up, if only it could reveal something a bit easier to decipher.

“...no.” Virgil hiccuped, his breath hitching as he fought to regain control of himself. “No, I haven’t. I thought it’d be easy, I thought I could do it, but…”

 “Virgil...it’s-it’s alright…” Logan tried, almost not believing he was actually trying to comfort his vampire captor.

“No, it’s not.” Virgil insisted, wiping at his eyes. “Because I’m just screwing it all up again and you’re gonna die and Patton’s gonna be miserable and weak and everyone is just going to suffer because I can’t even follow my own biology correctly-”

 “Virgil!” Logan yelled, interrupting him. Logan sighed. “You are still stuck on the concept that you must follow your biology. Follow your family and other vampires you have seen. But you don’t. Being a monster is not determined by what species you are. It’s determined by what you do. You can choose to not be this vile creature if that is what you wish.”

Virgil looked at Logan in surprise, his tears beginning to dry up. “How?” Virgil spat. “How can I be anything but terrible when I’m made to take the lives of others to survive?”

 “But...you already don’t.” Logan said, carefully. Virgil seemed to finally be getting it, so he had to go about this slowly. “Yes, you go out and hunt humans to feed off of but from my knowledge, you haven’t killed anyone in a long time, and it’s obviously not required to get what you need.”

“Yeah, but that’s just humans.” Virgil shifted anxiously on his feet. “You’re...different. Just a taste could be fatal, if I was even able to strike, because you lose it so fast and it’s so addicting. And there’s so little.”

 “That may be true.” Logan said, wincing as he did so. “But you also do not have to eat a borrower. Yes, our blood may make you stronger but it’s not necessary as long as you are regularly drinking from humans.”

“Yeah, and then we’re vulnerable again the next time my ex family decides to take a whack at Patton!” Virgil grit his teeth, fangs barred.

 Logan took a step back, swallowing the lump that had jumped into his throat. “Wait, has that happened before?” He said, after a moment to collect himself.

Virgil froze, shrinking back slightly at he seemed to realize what he’d said.

“...vampire covens are very possessive.” Virgil revealed quietly. “They loathed me enough to let me go, but I’m still part of their blood. Turning someone gives you a claim on their life- er, afterlife. They see any claim of mine as a claim of theirs.”

 Logan frowned. “Well that doesn’t...seem very fair.” Not to Virgil or to Patton.

“It’s not.” Virgil agreed with a low growl. “I was selfish, dragging Patton into this mess, and now he’s forced to be almost my prisoner because he’s too weak on his own to ever stand a chance. We’ve only gotten lucky before. And if Patton would have just eaten Roman, he could be free of all this and stand his own. Stronger than my family, even, because the borrower blood would be fresher in his veins.”

 “But...Patton doesn’t want to eat Roman...does he?” Logan guessed, putting more pieces together.

“No.” Virgil said begrudgingly. “And now we’re in this freaking mess and everything’s just gonna be worse whenever my ex family does attack because now we reek of borrower anyways.”

 “That...is quite the problem.” Logan admitted. “But even so, I doubt even with the added strength of eating us, not much would change. You might drive them away but they would just come back later. Which I assumed is what always happens.”

“Well yeah, for now, ‘cause we’re weak.” Virgil’s expression turned darker. “But the strong conquer the weak. With enough strength, we could take them down for good.”

 Logan shook his head. “No, you’ve got it all wrong.” Logan stepped a bit closer, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. “The strong can be conquered as well, by the intelligent.”

Virgil frowned, looking down at Logan with consideration. “...explain?”

 “Strength can only take you so far.” Logan started. “But ultimately, the ‘strong’ will always fall to the ones who know how to play the cards.” Logan face grew more serious. “I believe we can come up with a plan to stop your family once and for all, without any added strength on both your parts.”

“I think that’s impossible.” Virgil argued. “They’ve got several thousand years of experience accumulated between them and a small army of peons.”

 “Yes, but an army falls if the leaders are gone. If we manage to trick, trap, and off them, then the rest will follow. Who would you say the leaders are? Your parents?” Logan asked.

“My parents are dead.” Virgil crossed his arms. “My brothers took charge a handful of centuries ago, after...” Virgil paused, his lips feeling suddenly very chapped. “After they came across a very effective power supply.”

 Logan winced. “I’m to assume you mean all the borrowers that had taken residence in your house?”

Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat, not meeting Logan’s eye as he gave a nod.

 “I see...am I also to assume that you blame yourself for that?” Logan asked, seeing the signs of guilt.

“Well duh.” Virgil’s voice lacked its usual bite. “It’s my fault. I led my brothers right to them.”

 “How?” Logan couldn’t help but ask.

“I found...Emile.” Virgil explained. “And then I was selfish, as I always am, wanting company so I kept him close. But then Dee found out, and Remus took Emile, and- well after that then they tracked the rest down- and-” Virgil took a shuddering breath, his explanation coming out in pieces.

 Logan’s eyes widened. “Hey, it’s alright.” Logan tried. “You cannot be at fault for wanting a little company. For wanting a...friend.”

“Yes, I can!” Virgil grasped at his hair, looking ready to pull it all out. “That’s not how the world works. That’s not how vampires work, we don’t ‘make friends’.”

 “Says who.” Logan exclaimed. “Your family? Because we have already established they are psychopaths bent on murdering you and taking Patton. I don’t really think they have any say in ‘how things work’.”

“I think they’re the only authorities with the power to do so.” Virgil retorted. “Considering they’re some of the most powerful vamps on the planet, yeah, I think they know a thing or two.”

 “Or maybe they simply say that so they may stay in power. After all, a lot of people rule with fear. It’s quite the tactic when it comes to controlling people.” Logan explained further.

“I was one of them.” Virgil reminded him. “I watched from the inside. I’ve seen what happens to those who stay in their lane and get stronger; and I’ve seen what happens to those of us who go soft.”

 “All I am saying is that just because they are powerful, doesn’t mean they are right.” Logan said gently. “And I think you know that, you just, again, keep lying to yourself.”

“For once I’ve never been more sure of myself.” Virgil argued. “I want them to be wrong, because being lonely eternally is just about the worst fate I could imagine. But being with others is worse, because then you’re giving yourself a weakness. And you’re putting them in danger, too.”

Virgil turned to the side, pressing his shoulder up against the wall. “I don’t want to be alone, I really don’t. But it’s selfish of me to keep forcing people to stay close who don’t want to be near me.” Because why would anyone want that? Virgil was dangerous, and he knew it.

 Logan sighed, once again the only one around to do any comforting. “I may not know Patton that well and...the two of you may have just had a fight. But it seems to me that Patton wants to stay with you.”

Virgil snorted humorlessly. “Yeah, he’s getting really good at acting. I can see the sadness in his eyes. He hates what he’s become, what I forced him to be.”

 Logan frowned. “Have you...talked with him about it?” The borrower asked.

“A bit.” Virgil shrugged. “When he gets all freaked out by blood or can’t control himself and I’ve gotta help clean up the mess.”

 “That...I believe that is not an ideal time to talk about something like that. Especially if most of the ‘talking’ is the two of you yelling angrily at each other.” Logan sighed, pushing up his glasses to rub at his nose. “You need to talk to him when the two of you are not high strung with rampant emotions.”

“It’s not exactly a casual topic.” Virgil huffed. “And he’s already made his position clear, there’s no need to bring it up again.”

 “I think there very much is. If not to settle things then to at least put your own mind at ease.” Logan continued to encourage. “I doubt he would have stayed with you this long if he truly hated you.”

“He’s stayed with me because he can’t survive on his own.” Virgil argued. “Even without the threat of my psycho relatives he’s wretched at being a vampire.” Virgil frowned, looking contemplative. “He’s just… Patton was always so full of life, and I ripped that away from him, making him a living dead.”

 “I just ask that you at least think about talking with him. For real. I think it would help the both of you in the long run.” Of course, Logan couldn’t make Virgil do anything, so all he could use was his words and hope for the best.

“Okay, great, so Dee and Remus are going to come for our throats, but at least in the meantime we’ll have a tender therapy session.” Virgil scoffed mockingly.

 Logan let out a small groan. “If you never talk to Patton, you’ll always be more open to such attacks. The two of you need to be on the same page in order for you either stop them or get away depending on what you decide.” Logan was voting for stopping them once and for all.

“We’re on the same page.” Virgil insisted. “We’d love to not have to deal with them, but we’re too weak, so we run like cowards, tails between our legs.”

 “Let me reiterate, strength is nothing compared to intelligence.” Logan repeated once more, feeling frustrated at this point that Virgil refused to listen. “If you are smart, then you are the strong ones and you can stop them.”

“Are you calling me an idiot?” Virgil growled. “Over a thousand years and you don’t think I’ve tried to out-smart them?”

 Logan found this intriguing. “You have? And what did you try?” He ignored the question of thinking Virgil an idiot.

“I don’t know…” Virgil groaned, tilting his head back and trying to remember all his failures. Not exactly a fun time. “Well-placed stakes, arson, stalling into the day, salt traps, basically all the traditional stuff that wouldn’t immediately be super painful to us too. My brothers are strong, and they aren’t stupid. Well, one of them, at least.”

 Logan hummed, deep in thought. “I’ll admit...you have certainly tried many things.” If so many things had already been tried, it would be a bit more difficult to come up with something. “Still...it’s not impossible to find a solution that will work.”

“Oh yeah?” Virgil crossed his arms. “Go ahead and try, I’m all ears.”

 Logan blinked. “Wh-What? Right now?” Logan was unprepared.

“Yeah, right now.” Virgil glanced at the blinds. “Better do it fast too, sun’s coming up soon.”

 Logan looked over to the window, seeing that the sun was indeed going to come up soon, perhaps in the next few minutes. “I, well I have a lot to think about, I can’t just come up with a solid plan on the spot like this.” Logan argued, fidgeting with his hands.

“See? Not so easy.” Virgil seemed to consider this a win, crossing over towards his coffin. At this point, the only thing that could stop his brothers was a miracle.

 “I will think of something.” Logan called out, glaring.

“Sure you will.” Virgil waved him off, climbing in to sleep. “No guarantee I didn’t think of it first ages ago, though.” With this last remark, Virgil pulled the lid closed, sealing himself away for another day.

#vampire perspective #perspective series #vampire!virgil #borrower!logan #part 13

[angel-emmerson]

Processing | Self-Para

death tw, grief tw, addiction mention tw, depression tw

(it’s one of his therapy sessions so it’s a lot <3)

“Mr. Ángel, I gotta admit I was starting to get worried you wouldn’t call me. Beautiful day to be out here though.”

“Sorry Doc, you know I’ve been kind of all over the place. Thanks for coming all the way out here.” Ángel held out his hand to dap Dr. Ramirez up and pull him in for a quick pat on the back. He had been seeing him since he was 15 and Dr. Ramirez had been on of the first latinx men in his life and one of the few male role models that he had as constants. In the past few weeks he had talked to a few of his therapist but he knew that if he asked Dr. Ramirez to meet him out here that he would and a nice drive to Portland had been exactly what he needed to feel like he could finally get a breather from Redwood Bay after all of the chaos. 

“So this is where you almost went pro, huh?” 

Ángel’s smile turned up a bit as he nodded and looked around the Portland State lacrosse field. “Yeah man, I was standing right over there when the scout came down and made me my first offer, after that the fucking letters just came pouring in.” He picked up the lacrosse stick he had brought with him, only just having been cleared for mild physical activity so he didn’t want to overdue it. But he tossed a ball into there and started to move it back and forth in his hands. 

“Do you regret it, not taking those offers?”

“Yeah, I mean, look I don’t live my life in regret but I think about it a lot, you know? I think I was so..eager to get back home after graduation like I had missed something that I didn’t even think about how my life could have been, you know? Fucking traveling and playing, training to be the best, getting myself connected to people all over the world through one sport. I mean hockey was fun but lacrosse?” He paused and from midfield threw the ball straight into the goal. “It was like something no one could touch, you know? Not enough people understand it as it is so I felt like I was just in another world. Where I could be angry and aggressive but strategic, you know? I mean I went home cause I felt like..people needed me but then everyone left anyway,” he added with a sad laugh before he slowly started walking to retrieve the ball. 

“So does that mean you feel resentful of people at home? Since you feel like because of them you gave up this dream?”

He was shaking his head before the doctor finished, knowing he was just asking questions to pull him out of his head, it was how it always went. “Nah I don’t resent them, I mean no one asked me to come home, you know? Only person I could be mad at is me. I mean I came home and two of my friends I lost years with cause of addiction, feeling helpless when it came to them was just..shitty and I mean they’re in better places now and I couldn’t be more proud but all that time is gone, you know? And then Zehra went off to see the world and find herself, my sister went to California, Kai went off to fight a war. Everyone went and did what they wanted. Well, everyone except for Levi.”

The name made his expression falter and it didn’t go unnoticed to Dr. Ramirez but he stayed quiet for a moment as he observed Ángel picking up the ball and avoiding looking at him. “How are you dealing with his passing?”

“I’m not.” A sad laugh fell from his lips and he took a deep breath as he lifted his head. “I mean I don’t...I don’t know man. It feels like everyone around me just can’t handle me being fucked up about it, I mean they say they’re there for me and I know they are but I’ve been in such a good place for such a long time it’s like people can’t fucking...compute it when I’m depressed as fuck. And yeah, yeah I feel that way man. I mean fuck, you see over there,” he pointed at a spot in the bleachers, his eyes already starting to tear up as he said. “Levi used to sit there every fucking game. He’d get here early so he could get his seat, always wearing the hoodie or the t-shirt I got him, he’d save seats for my moms when they’d come I mean, the guy practically lived with me in college. He should’ve been the one in college, I mean my dude was so smart. So fucking smart. He had to drop out cause of his mom but like I wouldn’t have graduated without him. After I rushed, he stayed in the frat house with me. I got him a mattress and we fucking built a frame for it. And no one said shit, I paid extra dues and I mean no one would complain cause he was helping us all fucking pass college, you know? I mean this dude’s brain, the books he’d read, all the shit he’d say, he was destined for greatness, you know? And we spent so much time together, he was the one person that never left, you know? And it’s not cause I asked him to stay it was just like..it was like we understood that if we did this life together, if we stayed strong, if we did what we could for our families then we’d live a good fucking life, you know? But now I’m pissed, I’m pissed cause he’s gone and,”

He could feel his bottom lip quivering as he leaned against the goal and reached up to wipe at his eyes. “Every fucking morning I get up and I-I listen to this voicemail he sent me about two weeks before the fire. I was like two minutes late to picking him up for the gym and he knows I already ride him about time. So he calls me and I don’t pick up cause i”m driving and he’s just fucking singing all by myself at the top of his lungs. Sounded fucking terrible but man I can’t stop listening to it. He laughs at the end and it’s just like,” he paused as he sniffled and wiped at his eyes, “It’s like every day I think about all the shit he’s not gonna be there for, you know? Like my kids being born, like getting married, like man, he was supposed to be there, I was supposed to be there to watch him. For our kids to grow up together, for our lives to just keep growing. And I feel like I took all this time for granted. I feel like the night of the fire was just another day, you know? Like I hugged him and we joked around and he made me drink this actually pretty fucking good organic juice and I was supposed to see him the next week. We were gonna go for a quick morning gym time so then we could finish working on this shit in my garden. And now I look outside and I can’t...I can’t even touch anything cause I just...I keep seeing him there with the dogs an I-.” his words become jumbled as he covered his face with his hand and started crying and when he felt the Doctor’s hand on his shoulder, he turned into him to be embraced into a much needed hug. “He was my best friend,” he repeated a few times as his body shook and he felt that fresh wave of sadness rush through him. 

When he finally managed to calm down, he wiped at his face a few times, not bothering to mumbled an apology because he wasn’t sorry for being vulnerable in front of him. This was what he needed, to be honest, to let it come out of him, to admit that he wasn’t okay. 

“I miss him so much, man. And I..I get so angry at people who like didn’t know him but want to like pretend like they did, you know? And like I get it, people grieve and they sympathize but they didn’t know him. They didn’t know what it was like to be his friend, to hear him laugh, to feel his hugs, to see that dopey fucking smile. And I mean Zehra’s fucking torn up about it and I want to be strong for her, I can’t be this fucking mess. She needs me to be stronger than this so that we can get through this. I mean fuck, she was there, man, how the fuck is she ever gonna bounce back from that? But I gotta be there. I gotta, I can’t, I can’t lose her too. I wouldn’t survive it.” He let out a deep breath and shook his head, “I need to sit down. This is the most I’ve been out since I got home from the hospital.”

He thanked Dr. Ramirez for handing him a tissue and he wiped up his face and blew his nose before taking a seat on the bleachers, right where Levi used to sit. He smiled as he took in the sight of the field, feeling like it was a whole other life now. “I’m turning 33 in a few weeks and I think it’s getting to me,” he admitted after a moment of silence, taking his hat off so he could clutch it in his hands. “Thirty-three, man I mean shit, you and I both know that I didn’t even think I’d make it to 23.”

“Do you feel unhappy with where you’re at?”

He took a deep breath as he thought about it. “Unhappy? No, I mean, aside from right now, I feel like before all of this and the shit with my parents I was pretty happy. I mean I don’t feel like my life is a failure. I-I guess I just thought that by now I’d feel more purpose, you know? I love what I do but I’m no passionate about it, I love my dogs and my house but man I-I want to have more. I want a spouse, I want kids, I want my life to get bigger and I just feel like it’s not gonna happen for me. Not in a fucking pity way but like in a very genuine way. Like Brady doesn’t believe she’s gonna get married which is bullshit but I’ve..I’ve always known that I would, you know? But like lately I’m not so sure.”

“But last time you were saying that you met someone..I mean is that over..how has that been?”

Ángel’s smile turned up for a second before it dropped. “Her name is Leslie. She’s...I mean she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever been with before. She has a really great heart, man. And she suffered this like..huge loss and I don’t think she’s recovered from it either. She’s super fucking smart, funny as hell, kind of crazy and a little mean but not in a like Regina George kind of way. Like I wouldn’t say she’s a mean person, she just says some mean shit to people and even mean is not the word I’d use. I mean she tells ‘em like it is, just not in a sugar coated way. I don’t know, I-” he stopped himself and took a deep breath. “Honestly Doc, I-I think I’m in love with her. Like forreal, you know? Not like in a dream, my heads in the clouds and shit. Like I love her, as a person. But being in love with her? Man I...I feel like I’m there already and it’s fucking freaking me out. Cause I’m not like..I’m not like a guy who just jumps into shit, especially not with someone who couldn’t be more relationship resistant if they tried. But when I’m with her I just...I feel like I feel with you right now you know? Like I can be real, and honest and myself and even when I do shit that she gets annoyed by, it still feels like something that we’ll talk about. She doesn’t lie to me, she’s honest with me about how she feels and I appreciate that. She doesn’t make me feel dumb. She makes me feel like I’m fucking flying man. Like when her eyes are on me, I feel like the luckiest dude in the world. I think she’s fucking amazing. But..”

He paused and took another deep breath, turning his hat over in his hands. “But she’s got a drinking problem and I’m not sure what to do about it. You know there’s no way, there’s no way we could..be together when she’s figuring so much shit out, you know? I mean I want to be with her, I know that for me but I also know that I gotta be patient if she’s who I really want because she’s..I mean she’s kind of all over the place right now. I don’t think there’s been a single time I’ve had her over where she hasn’t been drinking beforehand. I mean I’m not her fucking white knight, you know? I’m not trying to swoop into her life and fix everything, I know firsthand that real change comes from within, comes from what you’re willing to put out there. And I mean I have Quinn and Julian, who I was with side by side as they struggled with their addictions, with drinking and I mean you had to force me to set boundaries until it got too bad. So like I don’t want to interfere but I also don’t want to keep pretending like it’s not happening, you know? Like do I just wait for her to figure it out, do I talk to her mom, do I just try to talk to her about it or do I shut the fuck up and wait for something worse to happen.” The idea got him choked up again and he sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I keep having these scary fucking thoughts of hearing from her mom that they had to go get her stomach pumped or she fell into the fucking harbor and drowned and it’s extreme but, she already doesn’t feel enthusiastic about being home and being...alive so.” He sighed and dropped his hat so that he could run his hands over his head. “I want to help her, that’s more important to me than being her boyfriend. I care about her, as a person, I always have. I have since I was fucking 13 years old. I want good things for her, even if I’m not it. But where do I start? How do I start without totally losing her? I don’t want to lose her man, I fucking love her.”

“So you mean to tell me you’re carrying all of this and recovering from almost dying? Am I getting that right?” Dr. Ramirez let out a low whistle as Ángel nodded. “First things first, and we’ve talked about this before, but you can’t stop yourself from feeling your feelings. If your family and friends are not equipped to handle you being upset then they have to learn, you don’t have to pretend just because you think it will be easier on them. You’re not doing yourself any good. You lost someone very important to you, that healing doesn’t just happen over night, you know that, you’ve been working on your healing for years. It’s going to take time but you owe it to yourself to give yourself that time, take it day by day and let others be there for you. I can’t be the only person you’re honest with. If you’re not honest then everyone is just gonna assume that you’re fine and you’re gonna have another breakdown that you could have avoided. Another outbursts, another fight. Why have that happen when you could be honest? You are so good at articulating your feelings when you let yourself, that makes you more intelligent than half of the ivy league graduates, Ángel. You can’t let make yourself into a burden when you’re not.” 

“Everyone in your life loves you, and they will hold space for you, even if it pushes them to learn the same skills you had to learn to be there for them. You didn’t wake up this open and vulnerable, or do you forget our first session where you broke about six of my pencils? As for Leslie, well, you said it yourself, you’ve been through similar things with Julian and Quinn and of course it’s different. She’s the woman you love, but if what you say you feel is true than you need to find a way to help before it’s too late. Now, she may not react well to you just asking her directly, she might feel like you’re lecturing her. But something is better than nothing, you know? You have to be thoughtful, and I would maybe ask your friends for what might be helpful, what would have been helpful for them to hear when they were in that space. But you can’t do nothing, you can’t do nothing and hope it’ll go away, you know that. I know you know that and so yes, you have to decide that being there for her, trying to help her find her sobriety, is more important than you wanting to be her boyfriend. And that’s incredibly hard, but it’s incredibly easy to be selfish, it takes a whole lot of cojones to be selfless. But if anyone can do that, if anyone can reach within and find that kindness, that gentleness, it’s you. I believe in you, Ángel. But somewhere along the way you stopped believing in yourself. In your strength. You have to remember that’s there. You can’t give up on yourself, you have to keep going but you also have to give yourself grace, mano, give yourself grace. Remember that, repeat that to yourself. Grace. It’s your word of the month. You’re going to make it to 33! 33 years, man. that’s 32 years more than anyone ever thought, that you though and that is no small feat. You did that.”

Ángel took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he thought about everything Dr. Ramirez had said. He knew he hadn’t failed but he felt like it. Maybe he had stopped believing in himself, maybe he had stopped being proud and trying harder, maybe he had just hit a wall and never bothered to get around it. Tragedy had a way of bringing things to light and he felt like he was looking at his life with a whole new lens. He didn’t feel better but he felt more hopeful, like he had better tools to navigate this grief and confusion. He had to take care of himself, that much was clear, but he also had to stop stressing himself out with taking care of others so much. It didn’t mean he had to stop but he did have to take a different approach, Leslie included. “Give myself grace,” he said finally, and repeated it again as he took deep breathes. “Okay, okay, yeah, I’m gonna give myself grace,” he promised, his head still pounding from crying but the sun was shining so sweetly on the field and he closed his eyes for a moment to feel it on his face. To feel like it could have been any other day and Levi would be bounding up the steps at any moment. The truth was that Ángel wasn’t okay, he was devastated and depressed and feeling lost but he knew that he would be okay. He would be okay. And that had to be enough.

He took a deep breath and got to his feet, putting his hat back on as he grabbed his gear and they made their way back down the steps. He paused as he got to the bag he had brought with him and he pulled out a picture of him and Levi from his last championship game. “I have another copy of this, I just..I don’t know,” he stopped himself and instead of explaining, he took the picture and knelt down, digging up some of the dirt on the field with his stick before he lay the picture there and covered it. “Seems kind of dumb but I just..want this place to always have a piece of us,” he admitted. “Levi’s Jewish so the customs are different and I’m not supposed to like talk about him partying it up with the angels and shit but I don’t know, trying to find little things to pay honor in my way.” He glanced up at the sky despite himself, his smile twitching up a bit. “Love you forever, brother,” he mumbled before finally turning away, grabbing his things so they could head back to their cars and get something to eat. 

Ángel stopped short as they got to their cars and offered a soft smile. “Doc, I know we pay you for this but uh, in case I never said it enough, thank you. For doing what you do, for being my fucking therapist, my mentor, my role model, I just...you remind me of why I’m so happy I’ve stayed alive. Of why I’m so happy I get to see 33. So thank you for that.”

Dr. Ramirez’s own smile turned up as he held his hand out for Ángel to take before wrapping him up in a hug. All these years watching him grow, keeping things professional and helping him through but there was no doubt that the man in front of him had become one of his sources of pride. “Hey, anytime, Angelito. Don’t forget, you’ve always got people that have your back.”

He nodded and finally got in his car, feeling lighter and heavier all at the same time but as he started up his truck, he said the words he’d be saying to himself for weeks and weeks to come. 

“Gotta give myself some grace.” 

#processing #self para #death tw #grief tw #addiction mention tw #sp #WHEW i just needed to write this all down man lmao #depression tw

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.4

Last time on Beverly Hills 90210!

Hibiki begins to understand the true nature of the Sam Reimi Spiderman trilogy as she lives the life of a superhero by night and a normal student by day in the most miserable way possible. Constant cockblocking from the duties she explicitly chose to do distance her from her significant other Miku, as it drives wedges into their friendlationship. As Hibiki breaks off a plan prepped weeks in advance to see rocks fall from the sky, she takes out her frustration on the local Kamen Rider villian rejects before coming up to see Tsubasa, only to be greeted by a new face...

Let us continue!

As the situation tenses between the three gi- hey! Hey, wait a minute! This is a flashback! That’s no fair. You’re just going to throw this to us while we’re trying to do this stuff? Get it together, show.

The show hauls our asses to a flashback, because God knows we needed one right now. It’s not just any flashback, though. It’s a flashback of our favorite redhead, Kanade!

In a straightjacket.

While everyone is staring.

“i dont usually do this but you’ve got a bad case of catch-these-handsitis”

“oh god, she’s so wild, and angry... i... why am i hoping she’s single...?”

“aye. this is the fate of all rabiosexuals out there.”

Kanade is tied down because she’s the sole survivor of a Noise attack, and more importantly, she really, really wants to fight the Noise. What she doesn’t know is that she is potentially a new candidate for a Symphogear relic.

“oh... we’d pair so well... our colors are diametrically opposed...”

“GIMMIE A FUCKING GUN AND A TEN PIECE CHICKEN MCNUGGET MEAL YOU GUY FIERI LOOKING ASSHOLE”

Genjuro, who suffers from Compulsive Child Adopting Syndrome (CCAS), immediately comes to the conclusion to adopt this tiny gremlin. It helps that her parents are, well, dead.

Fatherly instincts vibrating intensely.

Genjuro talks to this small child, who is currently 99% anger and 1% chicken fluff, scanning their conviction towards working to the goal of fighting the Noise.

In retrospect, his methods are a bit weird. Feeding into the extreme edginess of a 14 year old scorned isn’t exactly the best thing in the world. Unfortunately, as we established before, the only thing that can fight Noise are Symphogear, and the only reason he’s not in the front lines is because he can’t wield one.

Kanade naturally obliges this deal, her braincells having long since perished alongside her parents. Then Perish indeed, Kanade.

“buddy im being trained as a samurai in modern times and i still could not fathom going as hard as you”

The pact is sealed. The child is adopted. Genjuro’s adoption addiction relapses, and he’s going to have quite a long talk at AA (Adopters Anonymous).

The thing about Genjuro that makes him an interesting character is that he actually really, really, really hates the idea of having to pit children in fighting these horrible threats. Unlike a lot of male characters who have a strong sense of manliness but a poorly written way of expressing it, Genjuro manages to be a compassionate person in the face of all this terribleness. He’s the only person to think about throwing parties for these girls, and trying to give them any sort of sense of happiness and normalcy to their lives, now changed forever by machinations he has been put in charge of. He’s the Anti-Gendo. He doesn’t tell Shinji to get in the robot. He makes sure Shinji is well enough to be in the robot, and would never do so otherwise, knowing the mental toll.

That’s why ultimately, he is The Dad.

So, with that in mind, they prep Kanade to recieve the relic assigned to her. One of the major elements of using relics is compatibility. Kanade is not naturally compatible to Gungnir; they have to slowly ease her into it.

“mumble mumble cant wait to kick their asses mumble mumble”

This is a process that takes years. The show doesn’t do well in showing this, but it takes many, many years for her to be compatible after endless medical examinations and controlled situations.

The experiments, naturally, hurt like a bitch to boot.

“genjuro she’ll be okay, right?”

“flip a coin on it, tsubasa”

“oh shit yall see this news? pornhubs gonna buy tumblr! damn, i can make an all in one profile now.”

When you’re forced to watch your newly adopted daughter torture herself to be compatible with an ancient, musty cursed relic.

After all that, Kanade still isn’t compatible. Of course, nothing is simple with Kanade. You may ask yourself, “Why did Genjuro have to tie up Kanade in a straitjacket? That seems pretty abusive.”

Simply put, it’s because Kanade has never fucked around in any second of her life, having taken off all the devices on her, taken a direct syringe of the stuff she’s trying to synchronize with, and directly inject it into her, herself.

Fear.

“i am so SICK, and TIRED, of all this namby pamby wimpy ass standard shit. YALL MOTHERFUCKERS THINK I WONT GO FULL THROTTLE?! MY LIFE IS FULL THROTTLE. I! AM! GONNA! GET! SHIT! DONE! TONIGHT! BOYYYYS!”

Tsubasa, likely already going through puberty by this point, simultaneously understands both the concepts of fear and arousal witnessing this near suicidal display of absolute madness immediately.

Holy shit, Kanade.

You know shit’s bad when even Ryoko is afraid.

Turns out, however, that Kanade did the right move in becoming compatible with Gungnir, at a very physically demanding price.

Really, physically demanding.

“shouldnt have had that massive spaghetti carbonara before doing all this shit but fuck i really liked that fuckin’ spaghetti slorp slorp go the sauce ooooooooh god this is bad”

“HAHA IM FINE- IM FINE EVERYONE- THIS- THIS IS JUST THE SPAGHETTI- I HAD BEFORE THE- BEFORE THE PROCEDURE IT’S NOT- IT’S NOT BLOOD I SWEAR- OH I AM FEELING LIGHTHEADED- DON’T WORRY YOUR PRETTY HEADS IM GOOD! OH- OH FUCK-”

The scientists, who have been easily staring at this entire situation for more than 5 minutes or more, have not stepped in to do a single damn thing, as if overpowering a 14 year old to stop her from injecting a dangerous thing that could directly kill her is completely out of their paygrade. Genjuro wakes them the fuck up and likely briefly contemplates firing some of these morons.

“so this is what’s called... getting lost in the sauce...”

The scientists scramble to keep Kanade from vomiting more marinara sauce but Kanade exerts but a mere fraction of her now developing Symphogear abilities, knocking them all out with ease.

“this is some shit right here, damn”

Kanade pulls some Independence Day theatrics on everyone, as a 14 year old on the verge of death typically would if given the opportunity. Death may be certain but you at least get to go out in style. Will Smith would be proud.

The half-life of Tsubasa’s fearousal reached completion as it has mostly decayed into fear at this point.

However, the relic pendant begins glowing. This is likely the one thing that keeps Kanade from dying. An interesting comparison given Hibiki’s own survival and gear manifestation.

Kanade achieves super saiyan.

“THEY ALL SAID I WAS LOST IN THE SAUCE... AND THEY ALL THOUGHT THE SAUCE WAS LOST IN ME. BUT NOW... I AM THE SAUCE!”

Tsubasa’s fear directly transmutes itself back into arousal per the first law of alchemy. Something to note is that Tsubasa was naturally receptive to her own gear; she didn’t need to go through the medical process Kanade went through. It’s because of this that Kanade earns Tsubasa’s admiration for life, even long after she dies.

“THE SAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUCCCEEEEEEEEEE”

And so, the unambiguously gay duo known as Zwei Wing formed. Singers by day...

Noise slayers by night.

Saving the country, singing in the country, bonding together... in the country. Truly, there is no more iconic duo than these two.

“yall sing pretty”

“anyway bye”

Kanade’s initial motivation for getting Gungnir was to kill the Noise indiscriminately with no hesitation. It slowly dawns on her, though, that helping people... is good?

“the sauce lost me. i got lost in the sauce. i became the sauce. but... why don’t i... share, the sauce? because... people like sauce... and i like sauce... and we can bond together... liking sauce!”

Kanade and Tsubasa have a Captain America moment running together as Kanade muses about how singing for other people feels way better than just pure murder funtimes.

“hey, uh... tsubasa... it just hit me. i like sauce. and... you, you like sauce. do... do you want to share sauce together?”

“kanade as your girlfriend ive literally heard you talk about sauce metaphors for the last several years and if you dont think i wont slurp your sauce down without hesitation you’ve got another thing coming”

“hell yeah! ive still got some of my original leftover marinara to share!”

No heterosexual explanation whatsoever.

Not a damn one.

Oh yeah...! Because by shedding tears, the reality you face is...

Nehushtan? Weird end of a sentence, but okay.

We’re thrust back into the present time, present day, as we’re back in our three way throwdown.

Genjuro is an extra large McFuckingPissed with Large Fries and a Shake, supersized.

“you want some sauce with that? lmao, sorry, too soon”

As the werewolves come out in full force, the tension strengthens while a battle brews nearby...

“yall think you’re getting your hands on this goddamn armor without realizing im officiating this here gay pride parade. and guess what? you’re cancelled.”

“didn’t know clowns were part of the acronym, let alone capable of managing it. either way, you’ve gotta be at least this tall to use the armor.” 

“so why not make like a hobbit, drop the armor, and burrow back to whatever hidey hole you came from, bimbo baggins!”

“guess you didnt read the books, moron. last i checked, bilbo doesn’t lose his traveling partners.”

“that low blow only comes at the cost of outing yourself as a fucking nerd.”

“im not ashambed. im gonna blow your mind with some math: my foot, plus your face, subtracting the teeth from your mouth, equals an ass kicking.”

“NOTHING IN THAT FORMULA INVOLVES ANY ASS WHATSOEV-”

Hibiki gets in the way immediately, citing the ethical ramifications of fighting humans as opposed to talking to them, conveniently forgetting this was the same person ready to body her merely an episode or two ago.

“hey first of all please don’t say bimbo thats really degrading, and second of all clowns aren’t actually in the acronym but im sure there are some gay clowns out there so please dont talk like that and thirdly im sorta short and that hurt my feelings and fourthly killing is fucking bad, tsubasa, let us not commit human on human murder”

both of them, in unison, i shit you not:

“yo, you like murder? shit. i like murder too!”

“like oh my god! murder is my favorite hobby. i take it back, you’re chill. still gotta die, though.”

Hibiki is casually tossed aside from this fight, given her very ideas are anti-thetical to fighting as a whole.

A real sick battle ensues.

Something to note is that our spunky opponent has another relic at her disposal which summons Noise. This relic is called Solomon’s cane. You’ll learn more about it later.

Not a pretty sight.

Tsubasa is losing. Not only is she losing, but the enemy cool kid reveals a very notable detail of her plan: She was distracted Tsubasa on purpose. The real plan...

Was to kidnap Hibiki.

In an ironic twist, Tsubasa’s inability to work with her teammate not only put her teammate in danger, but explicitly allowed her opponent to fulfill her mission of trying to capture her.

“i changed my mind kick her ass please oh god”

Hibiki still has not learned her lesson.

Tsubasa gets her ass kicked. Her opponent pulls every punch in the book, with some lowdown dirty fighting.

Unfortunately, Tsubasa, having learned from the Kanade Amou Private School Of No Brain Cell Combat, she pulls the last ace from her sleeve.

“lmao bitch whatre you gonna do, sing?”

“i didnt design my hair like a fucking 8th note for nothing, you cabbage patch kid”

“then let’s hear it, motherfucker.”

#symphogear #symphogear season 1 #recap #anime #comedy

[neverwatchedonepiece]

611-612: "A Small Dragon! Momonosuke Appears!" and "A Deadly Fight in a Blizzard! the Straw Hats vs. the Snow Woman!"

Caesar’s Minion: “Wait... Didn’t Vegapunk leave a man made Devil Fruit here.”

Felt the pace across this pair of episodes was a bit slower. Not a problem, though, because all the loose ends must be tied up. To to this, all plot threads must be lovingly prepared and set in place before the final, arc-ending knot is tied.

So far, Oda’s been great at that, so I’m not worried. Even if some threads are left loose, they’ll just be woven into a future plot because he planned it that way. At least Momonosuke, the last outstanding plot point, has finally wound his way onto the stage. All that remains are those elusive sea prism stone cuffs.

But there was one Huge Reveal here...

MAN MADE DEVIL FRUITS.

THEY ARE A THING.

WTF?

Your Dad Talked Through His Farts

I loved this weird little meeting between Luffy and Momonosuke.

Luffy worked on his past experience with talking dragons on Punk Hazard. First, he thought  Momonosuke would be edible (nooooooooo!) Then, he figured the child’s voice was coming from someone who was stuck on the dragon’s body and maybe Momonosuke was talking with his farts.

“How rude!”  Momonosuke seethed. These samurai are very proper people, Luffy. Gotta show some class around them, I guess.

Then little  Momonosuke’s tummy rumbled and Luffy realised the dragon kid was starving. That was sad. Instant empathy for dragon child right there.

But Momonosuke was a samurai child. They did not get hungry after only ten days of fasting. (Only ten.)  He asked who Luffy was and why he was there. When Luffy introduced himself, Momonosuke didn’t think he could be a pirate, as pirates were “all big, heavyweight men. More violent and strong-looking.”

I guess he is from an isolated island and has never seen Buggy the Clown and Galdino: the Dream Team.

Once they talked a bit more, Momonosuke said he wanted to get out of the garbage dump to help save the kids trapped in the labs. Why? He overheard Caesar saying something shocking.

On the kidnap ship bound for Punk Hazard, the other kids tried to make friends with shadowy Momonosuke. But he was a samurai type and didn’t appreciate their attempts to “give alms”. Crucially, this meant Momonosuke did not take any of the candy Caesar and Monet offered. (Nice one, Momonosuke.) In fact, he escaped and wandered the lab corridors, looking for an exit, because he had something he needed to do in his home land.

He happened to wander into the Secret Room (that everyone knows about, lol). Starving, he spotted a suspicious looking fruit in a glass cabinet. He took one look at it, smashed the glass and scoffed the fruit.

I knew it was a Devil Fruit. It was purple and had those spots on it. But I was not prepared for what Caesar’s minions would reveal.  It was a Man Made Devi Fruit constructed by none other than Vegapunk himself! The minions heard it was a failure. Obviously, that wasn’t the case, as Momonosuke morphed into a dragon, freaked out and scarpered. Maybe like Caesar’s drug, the man made DFs only work on kids? Or Caesar was lying about the fruit being a failure (seems more likely, knowing Caesar).

But... this is huge.

Man made Devil Fruits. This could turn the whole power structure of the OPverse upside down. Rich pirates could demand and receive whatever power they want. Hell, the WG could have whatever power they wanted at their disposal.

I imagine a man made Devil Fruit could go pretty wrong too. Maybe some wicked side-effects.

Caesar has some world-shattering stuff in that lab. Now I get why he has such a great booze collection. He’s probably swimming in cash from Doflamingo, who is the one who’s managed to secure his services.

And now I know what you guys were talking about when you said to look at the texture of the fruits.  Momonosuke’s man made fruit was SMOOTH. The true Devil Fruit, the one Smiley had eaten, was swirly and textured.

Luffy listened to Momonosuke’s fruit tale and was like, “You’re a Zoan type. Why don’t you just change back?”

Momonosuke didn’t know he could do that. (Maybe he can’t with the man made type?) Still, it wasn’t a priority. He had to get out to tell the other kids what he’d heard.

Caesar Makes People So Angry They Morph Into Popeye

As Momonosuke was skulking about in his new dragon form, he walked past an open door and heart Caesar and Monet talking. 

“We have another group of obedient kids. The others are growing bigger without problem. But after all, this is an experiment to see the limitations of drug dosing. I don’t think they can take it that long. I assume they’ll all be dead in five years.”

“So we’ll need more kids?” Monet asked.

“Well, experiments come with failures. It’s a necessary sacrifice. Those stupid kids can help the world’s greatest scientist and do good for the world. Even if it’s a short life, they have to be happy with it.”

Holy. Moly.

Those poor kids. It’s lucky Chopper and Nami met them when they did. Hopefully, Chopper will help them get off the drugs and they’ll be well enough to go home. I wonder about the giant kids, though. Will they be giant all their lives? Probably.

Flash forward again and Momonosuke finished his tale. All he wanted to do was save the other kids. He thought Caesar was a doctor but he was a bad man who would let kids die. Momonosuke was on his way to save the kids but fell into the trash heap. It would be a disgrace to his honour as a warrior to not help them.

Luffy’s eyes were shaded. You know when that happens, he is maaaaaaaad.

He decided to climb out of the garbage dump and take Momonosuke with him.

Luckily, he didn’t have to climb anything. Momonosuke had a weird, triggering moment when Luffy said, “Stay with me...” which unleashed a Goku/Monkey style golden cloud power. (Everyone knows from DB and Monkey that you can walk on golden clouds. “Born from an egg on a mountain top. Funkiest Monkey that ever rocked. If you’ve never watched that show, hook yourself up with an episode. It’s hilarious.)

The luck, alas, did not last. Momonosuke came to his senses and they fell back down into the heap. At least Luffy is stretchy, right?

BREAKING NEWS: Caesar Sets Morality Bar Even Lower!

Meanwhile, Caesar had kicked back in his lab, waiting for the bottleneck gas chamber carnage to unfold. Little Mocha was tearing away from the other kids, who wanted to attack her for the candy.

Naturally, she was distraught. The people she had thought were so nice: Caesar and Monet, turned out to be the worst pieces of actual shit ever.

The flashback of Caesar from Mocha’s point of view actually made my jaw drop.

Every time I think, surely Caesar can’t sink any lower? No, it’s not possible.

In true scientist fashion, Caesar continues to push the boundaries of possibility.

Mocha was one of the first kids to be transported to Punk Hazard, including the blonde kid who’s name I forgot. (Sorry, blonde kid.)

Caesar came to meet them personally when they arrived. He ramped up the charm and faux-concern, of course. “I’m glad that you made it! Good to see you. My name is Caesar Clown. Call me Master. (First red flag right there, imo.) You two are a part of my first generation of patients. I’m looking forward to working with you.” Brief interruption for a hug. I cannot believe he even hugged those kids. He is such a SNAAKE. xD  “I bet you were scared and worried when you heard you were sick out of the blue. But everything is okay now. You don’t have to worry about anything. I will treat you at any cost!” (Technically true but, kids, you will not like the treatment.)

Then he dropped the bomb that actually made me gasp.

“To tell you the truth, I lost my only son to this disease. I never want to see another child suffer from it. I don’t want to see another parent lost their child and have to grieve like me! Oh... Oh, I’m sorry. How embarrassing. I shouldn’t cry in front of you.”

I just... 

I can’t even.

I mean, Caesar is a great villain and all, but damn, Oda,  that is low.

The morality bar has not only been lowered. It is buckling under the sheer weight of Caesar’s evilness and will snap at any moment.

Why Has Zoro Not Yet Kicked Ass and Taken Names?

Monet pretty much said what I’m thinking right now. She wasn’t sure she could beat Zoro: a swordsman who uses Armament Haki trained by Dracule Mihawk himself. But for some reason, Zoro hasn’t made a move. All he’s done is parry and protect the other Strawhats.

Then again, it is a dangerous environment with a lot of friendly fire concerns. 

The Biscuit Room has devolved into a freaking riot. There are crack-candy addicted kids charging about. Mocha, the one kid who is off the candy, is an ally, so they need to be extra careful around her. Sure, they’re not in the Biscuit Room any longer, but collateral from the fight could take them out. Sanji and his G5 army of fans have appeared. Nami, Robin and Chopper are still around and have been sealed in the room by Monet’s ice wall. 

Plus, Monet is no slouch. She has some blade skills and a good logia fruit to boot.

Nami could be an asset in this fight. The Heat Egg attack has been the only one that’s really put the hurt on Monet so far. (Zoro, use that haki please.) If Nami could power up a strong heat attack, she could take out Monet.

I loved it when Monet was monologuing, debating with Chopper about her being responsible for the kids. Who planted that rebellious spirit in Mocha’s mind? Then Zoro mercilessly cut her short. He does not respect villain speeches. xD

Monet called out the Strawhats for acting like pirates. “Every day we treat the children nicely and allow them to live in great comfort. What you people are trying to do is take away these treasures from us foster parents. You people are like pirates.”

Laying aside the awful issue of gaslighting children,  experimenting on them and claiming you are anything like a foster parent (that could be an entire post in itself), Zoro’s reply was ice cold and straight to the point.

“So you have no problem with it, right?”

There’s the awesome main-character grey morality again. I really do love that about One Piece. Zoro is like Luffy in that regard. The Strawhats are pirates. They will “kidnap” kids if they have to. Though this time, the Strawhats are on the right side of the moral divide. They’re counter-kidnapping the kids to return them to their parents.

But Zoro had better hurry up and make that move against Monet if he wants it to happen any time soon.

The G5′s Grand Entrance

And I totally was not expecting a comedy gold moment to interrupt a boss battle.

Just as things were getting serious, Zoro heard the sound of Sanji’s voice in the distance. Obviously, this turned Zoro’s head and he was greeted with the sight of Sanji leading a charge of G5 soldiers.

“WHY ARE YOU LEADING THEM?” Zoro yelled.

“Oh, there’s Zoro!” Sanji shouted. “Alright guys, stick out your lower lip and make fun of him.” xD

But Zoro knows Sanji inside out, so he said, “Oi, Nami and Robin went that way.”

Unfortunately, Monet, the feathered siren, proved a distraction. Monet’s flirtatiousness is a big part of her character (she flirted with Law and Luffy for fun). It must be pretty lonely being stuck in Punk Hazard with Caesar, so it made sense that she enjoyed the attention for half a second before getting back to business.

She burned through a couple of fodders with her Ice Form (freezing and biting a chunk out of one’s shoulder was savage).

Then Tashigi made *her* grand entrance.

And she can use haki.

That was a revelation.

She has always been several steps behind Zoro. Teaming up with him to take down a villain might boost her confidence. I sure hope so, anyway.

Meanwhile...

Usopp, Foxfire and Brook (or should I say “Corpse-dono”) are still charging about, hunting for sea prism stone cuffs. Shinokuni gas is now following them, so they’ll be caught up in Caesar’s bottleneck gas chamber plan.

I’m guessing that’s where they’ll find the cuffs. If Tashigi and the G5 also end up there, Usopp could pilfer or borrow some cuffs from her. I’m just assuming captain-level Marines carry cuffs on them here. The fact Usopp willingly initiated a “let’s split up” plan and offered to work alone was pretty brave of him. Usopp definitely has got stronger and more confident in his abilities.

Must also say there was some really nice art in the Smoker vs Vergo short update in episode 611. Not an artist myself, so I don’t tend to notice or be very good at critiquing these sorts of things. But even I noticed the quality this time. Good job, whichever team worked on it. :)

There goes the morality bar again, slip slidin’ right into hell...

#one piece #neverwatchedonepiece #nwop #never watched one piece #monkey d. luffy #momonosuke #caesar clown #monet #roronoa zoro #sanji #usopp #nami #tony tony chopper #nico robin #brook #mocha #foxfire kinemon

[liamjones]

Travelers Fandom Week 2019

Day 1: First Person

Yeah, so I’m starting off strong with the feels surrounding my son. Sorry not sorry that y’all gotta suffer with me now.

The First Person to Show Philip Physical Affection

Logically, he knows. It’s something he’s known as fact his entire life. It comes with the territory of being a Historian. Ask him about it and he’ll tell you without hesitation, without too much emotion, because it’s always been there, always been a part of him.

Emotionally, though? That’s an entirely different world to him, and an aspect he doesn’t have the opportunity to face until he is, quite literally, in a different world. Well, a different time anyway. But the 21st is so drastically different from their time that it might as well be a different world all together.

But it’s also the world that gives him the vocabulary he needs to be able to describe the emotional aspect of this thing he’s lived with his entire life.

Touch starved.

It doesn’t happen right away, of course. The team’s been in the 21st for a couple weeks now, and sure, he’s been touched here and there during those two weeks—and in the future, of course—but they’ve always been reactionary, short lived, nothing more than a casual bump or check.

At first, he isn’t sure if it’s because he’s strung out that his reaction is so strong, and it’s simply an automatic response to his body’s need for help, for something to ease his pain. But he finds himself nearly clinging to Marcy as she checks his vitals after confronting him over his addiction—an addiction he never asked for or wanted, he reminds her through clenched teeth and labored breaths. There’s something about her touch that’s different this time. She’s patched him up on a previous mission, so this isn’t anything new.

He finds himself unable to let go, his hand constantly hanging loosely around her elbow as she goes through her motions, and it isn’t until she glances down at his hand then up at him with an odd look that he lets go with a quiet “sorry”. Fingers flex and twitch against his thigh as he resists the urge to reach out for her again, not wanting to make things even more awkward.

Once she’s left and he’s leveled out once more, Philip spends the rest of the day thinking about what happened. Tries to figure out just why he reacted the way he did to Marcy’s touches this time. If it has anything to do with his heroin addiction.

Sometime later, he finds himself on a website, reading about this thing called touch starved and how it develops in a person. Things slowly start to make more sense after that. Historians aren’t exactly coddled or cared for the same way any other Traveler is, or anyone who doesn’t volunteer for the program. Taken from their families at a very young age, they’re basically raised by the Director and its Programmers. Trained to be the most logically focused of any team, their minds molded and altered to take in and retain more information than any other human could ever imagine knowing, forced to remember everything they’ve ever learned or experienced. All for the sake of the Grand Plan.

Not everyone is equipped to handle being a Historian, but 3326 was, and it’s only now that the lasting repercussions of the way they raise their Historians are coming to light.

The next time Marcy stops by Ops to check up on him, that urge, that craving returns almost instantly. As soon as he feels her gentle touch against his shoulder, he presses his hand against hers, holding her there.

“Philip? What’s wrong?” she asks, standing directly in front of him, worry making her forehead crease.

He squeezes her hand, taking a deep breath. “Have you ever heard of something called touch deprivation, or touch starvation?” he asks after a moment of silence. “It’s a term used in this time, but not so much when we’re from.”

She nods. “I’ve heard David mention it in passing before about a couple of his clients.”

“From what I’ve read, it’s used to describe people who’ve experienced a lack of physical touch between themselves and other people. I guess touch is a vital part of a person’s development, and, honestly, that’s kind of the last thing Historians worry about. The Director and its Programmers are always focused on our heads and our brains that everything else is sort of forgotten about.” He swallows, his grip on Marcy’s hand shifting slightly, but still holds on. “I didn’t realise it was a thing until the last time you were here—after the whole finding out about the addiction thing, and when you touched me…my entire body felt like it was on fire. But not like it does when I’m craving—I don’t know if that makes any sense. But it’s really the only way I can describe it. And I just—I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

“I always knew things were harder for Historians, because they started their training so young, but I didn’t realise it was this bad.” Marcy’s free hand finds his other shoulder and settles there for a moment before slowly rubbing up and down his upper arm.

He nearly melts into the touch, letting out a shaky breath. “You have no idea how good that feels right now.” And that isn’t even a close enough description of what he’s feeling. It’s almost euphoric, just having Marcy touch him like that. Intense. More so than anything the heroin has ever made him feel.

Suddenly, the warmth of both of her hands are gone, but before he can apologize for whatever it was he did or said, Marcy’s pulling him into a hug, one hand cradling the back of his head. Instinctively, arms wrap around her waist in return, face pressing against her shoulder. “How does this feel?”

“Perfect,” he murmurs, his body slowly relaxing against hers as it becomes used to the sensation. “Thank you,” he whispers after a long moment.

“Of course, Philip. I’m always here for you, whatever you need.”

#travelersfandomweek2019 #travelers #travelers netflix #philip pearson #marcy warton #my fics #tfw day 1

[ciggieplease-blog]

My boy overdosed last night

One of our friends was with him and he was able to bring him back. He hit him in the chest a bunch & said he was making a weird noise & wheezing badly trying to breath. Our friend said he was about to ditch all the shit and call an ambulance. But he brought him back. Thank fuck.

But fuck what if this had happened on one of all the nights when he's slamming dope alone in his room in the middle of the night?

I've been worried about that. Especially on nights when we're talking and he says something like "hold on, I gotta get a hit real quick" and then doesn't message me back for a long time. It's usually just cause he's fucked up and nodding out and forgets to check his phone, but I always panic thinking "what if he did too much this time? Most likely no one he lives with will find him until the next day when it's way too late. And I won't even know." And I'm left scared, anxious & wondering.

And now that anxiety has gotten amped the fuck up.

I cried and told him I love him & I can't lose him. He said "I'll be okay! This batch just caught me off gaurd." But he can't know he'll be okay. He's got multiple sources he buys from because heroin is so hard to get around here so he goes through whoever can find some for him. It's different shit almost every time.

He told me "don't worry, I'm not planning on leaving you" but like?? Yeah of course you're not, people don't usually plan to overdose & die but so many people do anyway.

I just really love him and I want him to be okay. Last week when we got ripped off trying to buy h, he said "I think I'm done", said he was gonna suffer the withdrawls and be done feeling sick all the time. A few days ago he said something bout getting some tar and I asked what happened to getting clean? He told be "let's be real, it's gonna be a long battle. One I'm currently losing."

I have no place to judge him for using, and I don't, because I understand. I've done heroin with him, I've been doing meth for like a year and a half. & I've been using a shit ton just this week. Both our drug problems have been escalating. I was slamming meth when I saw his messaged telling me what happened.

I'm just scared. I'm glad he told me. I'm sure he wanted to tell someone what happened and he told me that I'm the only one he can be honest about this life with. Everyone else just judges him since he relapsed. But I still wanted to be around him and I still got high with him. He said I was a good friend, but I don't think I am.

I worry that we're bad for each other to have around.

I'm bad for him because when he decided to relapse and everyone he knew kept turning him away and giving him shif for falling back into it, he told me that he was gonna find some one way or another and asked me to ask around for him. And I did. The night he relapsed, I was the one who helped him get it. And he assured me he was going to relapse anyway, that he wanted to use and that his need to feel okay outweighed any pride he felt in being sober. He said "we both know I'm gonna get what I want." That he would've found someone who'd hook him up whether or not I helped him, that if he had to, he'd drive into a bigger city and find somebody to cop from. And asked me if I could find any because he was getting desperate. So, I asked a couple people and found some, he picked me up and I went in and got it for him. Maybe he would've relapsed regardless, but that first bag that lead him back down this road, I put that bag of heroin in his hands. And he thanked me a lot for helping him. He doesn't blame me for getting addicted again. But I can't help but feel guilty for it, and some of our friends told me I was a shitty fucking friend for getting high with an addict after he'd been clean for over a year.

And I don't blame him for this, like some of my friends did, but before I started spending time with him, I'd only ever even seen heroin once, I'd never even came close to trying it before he gave me some. One of my best friends gave him so much shit, telling him not to give me heroin because I'm an idiot and I have substance abuse issues and whatever drugs he gave me, I would use cause I just wanna get high all the time, which is true. She told him to quit pretending her cares about me and that he just wanted someone to get high with and that he didn't actually give a shit about me. I felt bad she tore into him, and he told me that she didn't know what she was talking about and that he did care about me, more than he cares about himself.

The night he relapsed, he got me high too. It was my first time trying heroin, and we just snorted it. He told me I'd have to try shooting it, cause it's wayy better that way. And the second time we got some, we got tar from another person I knew. I introduced him to my boy & we hung out for awhile driving all over the city trying to get the goods. We picked up my friend and drove him to his buddy's house. Then we followed his buddy to a sketchy motel, and he ran inside to buy our stuff. He came out and gave it to me, the we picked up another guy and took him to a trailer park where he ran in & got us a couple new rigs from some people. Then we dropped of the dude who got us the rigs and said bye to my friend, who incidentally was the guy who saved my boy's life last night.

After dopping them off, we shot up in his car. He gave me a tiny shot at first, and I didn't feel very high so he was like "oh don't you worry, I can give you more". Mixed up a way bigger, darker shot, held out my arm and hit me. I never shot up before he showed me how. I'd never touched a needle before that. He told me it was the best way to get high.

After he showed me how great shooting up is, I started slamming my meth too. & and after he showed me how incredible dope is and he got me high multiple times, I bought some heroin for myself for the first time. I was scared of mixing my own shots because I don't know what I'm doing with heroin like he does. I only had a tiny bit, and I did 3 shots off of it and I got pretty fucking high each time but he said "you got 3 shots off it? girlll you need way bigger shots lol". Encouraging me to go big or go home, which is dangerous because I know myself and I know I have a habit of taking everything too far. After I tried h the first time all I wanted was to do it again.

I love him, I love hanging out with him, I love getting high with him, but we aren't really good influences on each other and I was really hoping he was gonna get clean again because he's in too deep and I'm scared he won't make it out of this like he did the first time he was hooked. I just want him happy and healthy. I can't stop him from using, and I can't tell him he shouldn't because I do too & then I'd be a hypocrite. Plus he's heard it all before, and he knows the choices he's making. He swears he'll be okay. But I'm afraid.

I don't care about myself, I only want him to get better. But for right now, I guess I'm just so thankful he's alright & that my buddy was there to help him last night.