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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it.

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends.

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart.

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years.

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same.

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin.

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence.

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony.

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed.

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living.

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again.

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it.

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that.

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again.

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him.

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears.

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book.

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails."

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down.

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed.

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly.

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here."

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying."

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred.

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks.

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury.

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move.

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting."

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top.

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks.

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few.

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so.

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief.

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading.

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks.

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive.

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks.

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?"

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void.

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this."

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you."

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace.

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you.

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing.

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him."

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen.

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void.

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying.

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors.

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible?

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless.

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air.

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?"

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?"

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?"

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance.

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me."

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded.

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just-

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss.

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto-

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve.

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition.

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice.

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years.

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.”

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.”

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.”

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur.

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay.

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost.

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears.

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement.

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!”

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands.

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.”

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person.

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right?

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy.

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes.

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot.

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust.

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy.

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin.

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction.

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

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#wilbur soot x reader #ghostbur x reader #jschlatt x reader #mexican dream x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing #tw: death #tw: near death #tw: blood #tw: panic attack #tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: grief

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l0vegl0wsinthedark · 4 years

Text

Sparkle

Here's a little ficlet I wrote based on a random scene that popped into my head and wouldn't leave. Unbeta’ed.

Tags: implied/attempted noncon, alcohol consumption, eighth year fic. Pairing: Draco/Harry

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Draco Malfoy came back to Hogwarts after the War.

He was quiet and was nearly always seen in the company of his books. He talked to people, but not unless they addressed him first. He was always in plain sight, and always seemed to be in the middle of the most banal, tedious tasks, and Harry had no reason to be suspicious.

But Harry watched him anyway.

How was he to help it? Malfoy didn't look anything like the Malfoy he was used to warching.

Yes, he was still deathly pale and tall and reed-thin - but he held himself differently now. He didn't swagger around like he owned the school, but still had an air of aristocratic grace about him that made people hurry out of his way.

He didn't wear his hair combed to slick perfection; he had it buzzed down to the scalp on one side, the rest of his sleek, platinum hair pulled over to the other side in an artfully tousled sweep that sometimes fell over his eyes and caught on his long lashes.

He didn't wear his shirt sleeves down to his wrists to hide the Mark. Instead he had them rolled up to his elbows to reveal the pretty little pink and orange blossoms he had tattooed over the ugly, faded skull and snake.

He always had nail paint on - black, green, ruby red, purple.

He wore eyeliner, stark black against the paper-white skin of his translucent eyelids and blond eyelashes.

During the weekends, he wore soft jumpers over crisp white shirts, often in pastel shades that made him appear delicate and almost ethereal.

Draco Malfoy came back to Hogwarts after the War and Harry was obsessed all over again.

It was Christmas in a week. The eighth year common room was in full tumult, the Wireless charmed to blare music loud enough to be heard clearly over the cacophony of dozens of chattering students. Decorated extravagantly by the elves, two tables groaning under food and drink (spiked with an indecent amount of alcohol), and housing every eighth year, over half of the seventh years and a few bold sixth years, the room threatened to burst at the seams.

Harry was pleasantly tipsy, which was very mild compared to the state of some of his classmates. At least he wasn't trying to climb up into the mantel to attempt to jump off of it and land on an overstuffed armchair that was twelve feet away.

He really had to pee, though, and both the toilets attached to the common room were occupied, and when he went up to the dorm bathrooms, he found those occupied too - as well as issuing sounds made by the students inside engaged in various kinds of 'activities'.

Bladder uncomfortably full, Harry jogged back down to the common room and, with a wave at Ron and Hermione, exited the party so he could use one of the school loos. His mind was buzzing very softly and he wasn't worried about homework or, you know, dying, for the first time in a while.

Sighing in relief after having taken a long piss, Harry strolled slowly back towards the common room. It was well past midnight and he knew the seventh and sixth years would be in trouble if caught at the party. He also knew that every teacher was likely aware and chose to let it go. It'd been that way this term after the War.

He was about to pause and take a moment to admire the snow covered grounds and Forest out the nearest window when he heard a sound from the classroom in front of him. There was a soft thud and a garbled human voice.

Frowning, he crossed the corridor and halted outside the classroom, hesitant to walk in on students who likely didn't want to be disturbed. But then he heard, clearly:

"Stop. No."

"Incarcerous."

"No, no, no, I don't want--"

But Harry had already drawn his wand and kicked open the door.

He vaguely recognised the seventh year, tall and slightly plump with a mop of sandy blond hair. He was struggling to contain the thrashing student he had bent over a desk and looked around with a jump, panting softly, when Harry burst in.

"What the f--?" the seventh year began.

"Get out," barked Harry, indicating to the door pointedly with his wand.

The seventh year stepped away and the student he'd been pinning fell to the floor with a thump, his wrists bound at the small of his back, his ankles tied together with the same gleaming, silvery rope. And then Harry started in shock, because-

"Please," panted Malfoy, writhing on the floor as he tried to free himself.

"Go," Harry said in a low, dangerous voice to the seventh year, and there must have been something in his voice or face because the student quite literally pelted out of the room. Harry heard him running all the way down the corridor.

Harry walked forward slowly. "Malfoy?"

Malfoy thrashed again, out of breath and emitting little sounds of desperation. "Pl-- Just let me go!"

Harry quickly bent down and undid the ropes with a wave of his wand. Then he helped Malfoy sit up and lean back against the desk, still panting.

His face was clammy and his eyes bloodshot, eyeliner smudged, his face abnormally pale, likely with fear.

He was also clearly very, very drunk.

Harry suddenly remembered seeing him at the party earlier, flitting back and forth to and from the table of refreshments. And then he'd disappeared altogether.

Apparently, not with his consent.

"You okay?" Harry asked, hesitantly placing a hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

"I don't want to!" Malfoy declared, jerking off his hand.

Harry immediately held both hands up and away. "Okay, absolutely, yes," he babbled. "I'm not gonna-- nobody's gonna..." He didn't know what to say so he left it unsaid.

Malfoy just sat there, still panting quietly, eyes unfocused and rolling around a bit.

"Do... Do you need to be sick? Do you...need to use the bathroom?" Harry asked after long stretch of silence. Malfoy shook his head, hair flopping into his face. There was some colour in his cheeks now, and when he reached up to messily tuck his hair behind his ear, Harry noticed he was wearing sparkly blue nail polish.

"Bed," Malfoy said suddenly, voice hoarse. Harry nodded and stood up. Malfoy looked up at him in bewilderment. "I don't want to," he repeated, slightly plaintively.

The way he looked in that moment, as though pleading for his life, helpless and incapacitated, Harry's chest tightened.

"Nobody is going to touch you," he promised in a low, steady voice. "I'm just going to see you up to your dorm room. Do you need help standing up or are you good?"

Malfoy looked up at him blankly and then looked away with a sigh, uncrossing his legs and making to stand up. "I need help," he mumbled after a beat.

Harry helped him up and then immediately stepped away. "Come on," he said softly, indicating to the door. "This way."

Despite having gone to bed only well after 3am after the party, Harry was up by 8. He found Ron awake with Hermione and the three of them went on a walk after breakfast. In the afternoon, Seamus invited them to a snowball fight with the others. After he'd changed out of his sopping clothes later, Harry found himself entrusted with the task of going down to the kitchens to bring up snacks for everybody.

One flight of stairs away from the Entrance Hall, Harry was stopped by a soft voice addressing him.

"Potter."

Harry turned. Sat on the nearest windowsill was Draco Malfoy.

Harry, for some reason, felt his face heat, and absurdly found himself worrying that Malfoy knew that Harry had spent all day thinking of him.

"Hey," Harry replied, nodding. "Alright?"

Malfoy nodded back, expression neutral. Suddenly, Harry wondered if Malfoy even remembered the events of the previous night.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked softly, and there was nothing threatening or malicious about the way he spoke.

"Down to the kitchen to nick food," Harry replied honestly, shoving his hands in his pockets. And then, after a moment of hesitation, "How are you...you know, how're you feeling?"

"I feel fine," said Malfoy, a small line appearing between his brows. "Any reason I wouldn't?"

Yeah, he doesn't remember, Harry decided. Then he wondered why he's talking to Harry at all.

"No," Harry said, mouth curving into a crooked smile. "Well, I guess I'd better-" He indicated to the stairs with his head.

Malfoy nodded and said nothing.

Harry was halfway down the stairs when, "Potter."

Harry turned. Malfoy stood at the top of the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"I-- I just--" Malfoy was very pink in the face. Harry thought him very pretty at that moment. "I'm really grateful for your help last night," Malfoy blurted.

Now Harry went pink. Oh, so you remember, he wants to shout hysterically.

"It was no problem, Malfoy," he said instead. "I'm glad I was there to help." Malfoy just looked blankly at him. "Hermione's always going on about consent," Harry blabbers suddenly. "And you know... You weren't... You didn't...consent."

Malfoy nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his baby blue jumper. "Well, thank you," he said after a few seconds of silently nodding.

"You're welcome."

They stared at one another. Harry was aware of the seconds stretching on and on but he couldn't look away from Malfoy's artfully styled hair and rosy cheeks and sparkly nails and carefully lined eyes.

Then with an awkward and atrociously stupid wave, Harry turned away.

"D'you want to go to Hogsmeade with me later?"

Harry turned, almost slipping off the step and tumbling down the stairs.

"What?" he spluttered at Malfoy who was now scarlet in the face.

"I... I asked if you--" Then Malfoy abruptly seemed to deflate. "Never mind, Potter. Sorry. And thanks again for last night."

Malfoy disappeared around the banister and Harry heard him climbing the stairs while he himself just stood there.

Then, as though jerked into motion by an electric shock, Harry flew back up the stairs.

"Malfoy!" he gasped as he rounded the banister. Malfoy turned, looking surprised. "I-- I'd love to," Harry said, sounding a bit winded.

"What?" Malfoy asked, tilting his head, glossy hair sliding over his eyes.

"Go to Hogsmeade with you," Harry explained. "I'll-- I'd love to go."

Malfoy went brick red but he smiled as he did so, a small, shy smile that made Harry's heart skip a beat.

"Okay," Malfoy nodded, "Six? I'll meet you in the common room," he added, pointing up the stairs with one finger.

Harry grinned. "Cool."

Malfoy grinned back. And then, just as Harry was about to go back down, "Hey, Potter?"

Harry looked back up. "Yeah?"

Malfoy, still scarlet in the face, seemed to be making a physical effort to gather courage. "You... You have my consent."

Speechless and almost faint, Harry just watched him hurry away. Consent for what, he wanted to bellow after him.

Then he decided he'd rather let Malfoy show him what later.

***

#tw noncon #harry being a saviour as always #soft draco #drarry #my writing

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kinda-iconic · 3 years

Text

Second Chances

Author's note: It's been a long time since I last wrote anything on here. This was partly caused by an issue on motivation, as I just wasn't feeling as though my writing was good enough anymore. However, I have tried to keep to it, and this is ultimately the result of my perseverance. This fanfic takes place between the events of 'Morning Sickness' and 'Truth doesn't always set you free'.

Summary: Adrian accompanies Amy to her first ultrasound scan.

Tagging: @bloodboundismylife @shelley-parah @nala-raines @lauren-raines-x @adrianadmirer @choicesfannatalie @purvishraick @flowerpowell @adriansbiss @tays-role-plays @caroldxnvxrs @crystalwillow @a-raines

Word Count: 2'703 words

Please do let me know if you would like to be tagged in future works.

‘If you could just lift your blouse up for me.’

Adrian glances around the room, the bitter scent of hand sanitizer burning his nostrils; the room is mostly bare, though as he focuses on his surroundings, he becomes more aware of its contents. The walls are plain, decorated only with the occasional information poster and a glove dispenser. The vibrancy of the lights compares to that of the sun, its fluorescent beams illuminating every corner of the room. As he continues to study his environment, the midwife approaches Amy's feet, adjusting the plastic on the end of the bed before pulling the curtain across.

Adrian focuses his attention on her, his brows knitting together as he observes her movements. A soft squeeze of the hand causes him to look away, luring his concentration back to the source of the distraction; Amy is lying before him, her petite form positioned comfortably on the hospital bed, her free hand resting atop her bare abdomen. She looks up at him, her brown doe-like eyes gazing worriedly into at his own, her voice no louder than a gentle whisper as she tries to provide him with words of comfort.

‘It’s okay, Adrian,’ she greets him with a tired smile, the pad of her thumb drawing soothing circles on the skin of his palm, ‘this is just standard procedure.’

He glances back at the woman, his expression indecipherable as he ensures that she is not privy to their conversation. Satisfied that the midwife remains indisposed, he raises Amy’s hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles.

‘That doesn’t mean that I cannot worry.’

Before either one can say more, the midwife turns back to face them, her fingers clasped tightly around the transducer. She shifts forward in her seat, regarding the pair with a welcoming smile as she lays sight on Amy’s stomach.

‘That’s perfect,’ she reaches forward, carefully adjusting the fabric of Amy’s shirt before gesturing to the band of her leggings, ‘I just need access to your lower abdomen if that is alright.’

‘O-okay!’

Amy does as she is asked, moving her clothing downward before looking to her for approval. She is met with a satisfied nod in return, the woman’s smile growing more evident as she retrieves a collection of paper towels from the dispenser; however, as she moves to assist Amy with tucking them in place, Adrian interjects her, strategically placing his hand over the remaining material. She lifts her gaze to meet his own, looking at him in befuddlement as she tries to ponder on the reason for his interruption.

‘Mr Raines, if I could just-’

‘I would rather be the one to do it if that is okay with you.’

The midwife does not respond, instead choosing to remove herself from the conversation, putting herself at a distance so that Adrian is able to continue her work. She watches him closely, her emerald eyes widening in surprise as she takes note of the gentleness of his touch, his fingers moving bashfully as he tries to imitate her actions. As he moves to work on the area adjacent to her hip, Amy places her hand atop of his, interlacing her fingers with his own; he hesitantly meets her gaze, as if aware that his recent actions have caused her discomfort.

‘I just want to keep you safe.’

‘I know,’ she whispers, her words soft and comforting as she carefully reaches for her stomach, her fingertips softly tapping against her skin as she continues to cradle her small bump, ‘but Sarah isn’t going to hurt me, Adrian – all she wants to do is to make sure that the baby and I are alright.'

He sighs, the corner of his mouth tugging into a sorrowful smile as he reaches up to caress her cheek, his fingers entangling in her hair as the pad of his thumb presses against her bottom lip. He inclines his head towards her, as if suddenly remembering their present company.

‘I worry about you, Amy,’ he looks down at her abdomen, his free hand coming to rest atop her own as his thoughts continue to play havoc with his mind; though his gaze begins to soften, there is a hint of worry on his brow, as though his concerns for the future of his family are weighing on his mind more than he chooses to admit. ‘It is not the first time that someone has tried to harm you and our child,’ he shifts his gaze to the side, watching Sarah as she continues to busy herself, remaining blissfully unaware of the wariness in his tone, ‘and now that Gaius knows about the baby…’

He utters his maker’s name with bitterness, every syllable spoken like venom on the tongue; as if by instinct, his muscles begin to tense, his expression glassy and vacant as he decides to press on, the hand that was once resting on her stomach now travelling up to take hold of her hand.

‘I don’t like doubting the intentions of every passer-by that graces our door,’ he leans closer, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, ‘but it is something I must do if I am to keep you both safe.’

‘I understand,’ her voice is quiet, barely audible to the ear, ‘but not everybody is out to get us, Adrian. The staff here are only trying to do their job.’ She gives his hand a comforting squeeze, the tension slowly easing from his body at her touch, ‘Don’t you think that they would have hurt me by now if they were working for Gaius?’

‘I just-’

‘I know,’ she greets him with a loving smile, her nose slightly crinkling at the gesture, ‘and that’s okay! I get that you want to protect us, but…you cannot spend the next six months fretting day and night over something that may never happen.’

‘This is Gaius, Amy; if he wants something, there is no telling how far he will go to get it.’

‘Then that is a problem for future Adrian.’

‘Amy…’

She reaches upwards, blessing his skin with a gentle caress as she cups his face in his hands, ‘I know that all this uncertainty hasn’t been easy to handle, and I understand why you are afraid,’ she releases a joyful sigh, her voice slowly trailing into a whisper, ‘but this should be a happy time. We’re about to see our baby; we’re going to see our little one for the very first time.’

He matches her enthusiasm, his words spoken with reminiscence.

‘I…I know.’

He looks over at the midwife, his stoic facade slowly fading as he observes her for a moment, taking a mental note of the care she is putting into each individual task; he turns his attention back to Amy, his fingertips grazing her knuckles as he reaches for her palm.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for…at least not to me.’

He follows her gaze to Sarah; understanding that he has overstepped, Adrian takes a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily before gathering the courage to correct his mistake.

‘You have my sincerest apologies, Sarah,’ he shakes his head in self-frustration, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as his eyes drift back to Amy, his voice laden with regret and embarrassment. ‘The last thing I wanted to do was to cause any offence.’

She waves her hand dismissively, causing him to cease in his apology.

‘It’s okay,’ her attention does not stray from the monitor as she proceeds to press several buttons, ‘you’re not the first father-to-be that has questioned our practices.’

‘That still does not excuse my behaviour.’

‘There is nothing to excuse, Sir,’ Sarah sits back on her chair, drawing the machine closer to the bedside; she removes a bottle of gel from its holder before tilting the nozzle towards Amy’s abdomen, her gloved hand shifting a stray piece of tissue from the substance’s future path. ‘Amy is an exceedingly kind and compassionate young woman.’ She adjusts herself slightly, as if trying to access a better angle, ‘it is understandable that you feel protective of her.’

‘I fear sometimes that I am being too protective, but whenever I stop, I cannot help but feel as though something might happen to her if I allow myself to let my guard down.’

‘I wouldn’t say that you were being over-protective,’ she smiles up at him, ‘I have been an acting midwife for two decades; the things that have been said to me…’ she sighs, her focus never straying from the task at hand, ‘let’s just say I have had a lot worse thrown in my direction.’

‘But you are only doing your job.’

‘And I am grateful that you see it that way,’ she pauses, as if thinking over her next few words with caution, ‘the difference in this situation is that your concern was over the safety of Amy and your child, whereas theirs were more to do with the duration of the examination or advice that I had given their partners about a change of lifestyle as the pregnancy progressed. Again, these were suggestions; I was not going to force them to make these changes.’

‘But you’re a midwife,’ Amy states in befuddlement, her brows furrowing in her confusion, ‘you have a duty of care to both mother and baby. All you were doing was telling your patients how they could improve their lifestyle to make pregnancy easier…’

‘Unfortunately, not everybody sees it like that,’ her smile remains, ‘but it is nice to hear that someone agrees with me.’

She moves over to the desk, collecting Amy's patient file from the end of the bed before settling at the computer; she studies Amy's notes for a moment, her eyes skimming through her information without so much as a second thought, ‘this is your first child, correct?’

A tightness consumes Adrian’s chest, his breath slightly hitching in his throat as her words begin to replay in his mind.

The baby would indeed be Amy’s first child, that much was true.

But it wasn’t his.

He lowers his gaze to the floor, closing his eyes as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. It is only when Amy speaks that he looks back up at her, desperate to hear the softness of her comfort.

‘It-it’s my first,’ she lifts her gaze to meet Adrian’s, her brown doe-like eyes awash with reassurance and understanding; she greets him with an adoring smile, her fingers beginning to re-entwine with his, the tenderness in her touch acting as a silent understanding between them. ‘I-I have never done this before.’

'Well, I would be lying if I said it was easy,' the midwife quips, 'but to hold your baby in your arms for the very first time? Totally worth it.'

The woman places the transducer onto Amy’s skin, the coldness of the gel causing her to gasp in surprise. She pauses her examination, her gaze lifting to study Amy’s expression as she removes the device from her abdomen.

‘Are you alright?’ She reaches for a tissue, dabbing at a splotch of gel that has started to drift from Amy’s midsection. ‘Did I apply too much pressure?’

‘No, I…’ she shifts slightly, her fingers grasping onto the paper towel-like sheet that is poking out from underneath her, ‘it’s just colder than I thought it would be.’

‘My apologies,’ Sarah responds with a sympathetic smile, pressing the apparatus back on the spot just below her navel, ‘I probably should have warned you before I applied it.’

‘It…might have prepared me a little bit.’

Adrian chuckles softly, instinctively lifting Amy’s hand to his lips; he places a delicate kiss on her palm, his warm hand gently encasing her wrist.

‘It will warm up in time, sweetheart.’

‘I wonder if you would say the same if it was squeezed onto your tummy,’ she glances down at her growing bump, her tired eyes focusing on the device as it starts to move across her abdomen, ‘does it make it easier to see the baby?’

Sarah responds with a curt nod, her focus never wavering from the task at hand. She continues to alter the path of the transducer, as if trying to ensure that every inch of Amy’s abdomen is covered.

‘In a way,’ she presses down slightly, her gaze lifting only momentarily as she addresses her patient, ‘the gel acts almost like a connector of sorts. It reduces the amount of air between the scanner and your womb, so I am able to get a clearer image of the baby.’

‘Would the air bubbles distort the picture?’

The midwife raises her brow, regarding Amy with an expression of curiosity. She tilts her head in Amy’s direction, her subtlety instinctively succeeding in drawing Adrian’s attention.

‘She seems to know a lot about this subject, Mr Raines,’ a nervous laugh escapes her, and Adrian is quick to notice the faint curvature of bewilderment on her features, ‘is there some incredibly informative new parenting book that I am yet to become aware of?’

‘Not quite,’ he greets her with a soft smile, his tone becoming more animated as he continues his train of thought, ‘Amy’s pregnancy, it… took us by surprise to say the least.’ He reaches forward, gently pressing his hand to the Bloodkeeper’s cheek, ‘neither of us are experts on child-rearing, so we thought that it would be better to listen to first-hand accounts before delving into any parenting books.’

‘Sometimes it is best to listen to those that are closest to you,’ she nods in agreement, delicately changing direction of her examination as she glances back at the screen, ‘may I ask who this person this?’

‘Most of the advice we’ve had has been from my Sister-in-Law,’ Amy looks up at Adrian, whose hand rests firmly upon her shoulder, his grip supportive and familiar, ‘although my Mom has given me a few pointers that might help.’

‘It is always good to receive another mother’s advice, regardless as to whether she is your own,’ she smiles warmly at the pair, her happiness only brightening as she catches sight of the screen; the midwife refocuses her attention on the couple, her voice laced with excitement.

‘Are you ready to see your baby?’

‘Y-yes.’

She turns the monitor towards them, her right hand still slowly moving across Amy’s abdomen; at first, all Adrian and Amy can see is darkness, but as they focus on the screen, a soft, grey image comes into view.

‘Is…’ he hesitates, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes linger on the picture, ‘is that…’

‘It most certainly is.’

‘Woah…’

They both continue to look at the image, their mouths agape in wonder as they process what they are bearing witness to. After a couple of minutes, Amy glances up at Sarah, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears.

‘That’s…that’s our baby?’

She nods, reaching over to adjust the tissue that is tucked into Amy’s waistband. Using her free hand, she points to the screen.

'There’s the baby’s head, and if you look closely…’ she pauses, slowly rolling the device back down its original path, ‘you should be able to see their arms and feet.’

Amy fixes her gaze on the image, her eyes widening as the child’s features become visible. She turns to Adrian, a single tear trickling onto her cheek.

‘That’s our little one,’ she smiles excitedly, a nervous chuckle escaping her as her tears continue to fall, ‘I…this is really happening.’

He reaches for her hand, taking it in his own before lifting it up to lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

‘Neither can I,’ he flashes her a giddy grin, his gaze never straying from hers, ‘I never thought that I…that we could…’

Amy shakes her head, a nervous chuckle escaping her.

‘It’s… not exactly something that I thought would be happening to me.’

‘I thought so too, at least not for me,’ he looks at her earnestly, his gaze softening in adoration as he studies her features; he reaches up to caress her cheek, the pad of his thumbs tracing soothing circles on her skin, ‘but I’m so glad that I get to do this with you.’

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #bloodbound #adrian raines #adrian x mc #choices fanfic #I did it!

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ewritesthangs · 3 years

Text

The Big Day

Today, was the day. Corpse and you were getting married. You woke up bright and early, but not before Corpse. He left you a rose with a note beside the bed.

'I'll see you later. I'll be the guy at the alter. 🖤'

Starting the day off with an even bigger smile than before. You received a text from your maid of honor, your mom, your dad, Sean. All basically saying they're excited to see you guys get married. You just chuckle and get ready for the day. First was nails. Then hair and makeup. Then to the venue. You put on a shirt that said "Bride", some jeans and your converse. You drive to breakfast first, since the nail salon wasn't open yet. The wedding was at 1. It was 945. Your appointment was at 1030 for nails. Breakfast was only some muffins and coffee. Iced, for you. You guys get there early, so they take you in early. You get acrylics. (See picture above) this took over an hour. By the time you finished, you had about 15 minutes to go to your next appointment. Which was only a few minutes away.

"Were gonna be late!"

"I'll call and tell them that I might be late. Don't worry Y/BFF/N." you did as you said, calling to make sure it would be okay if they were a little late just in case you guys were.

"Of course love! You are my only client today. I want to see you guys get married. Uh-duh." You laugh.

"Thank you so much. I'll make sure you get a nice tip."

"Just give me some extra cake."

"You've got that too." You hang up and head over there.

CORPSE POV

I awoke earlier than my wife to leave her a cute note with a rose. I leave her with a sweet kiss to her forehead before actually leaving for the day. Our day. Our wedding day. I was spending the day with Sean, Felix, Sykkuno, and some other friends of mine. Today was going to be a great day, though I am super anxious. I take some of my meds to help. The guys pick me up and bring me to go to breakfast first. At my favorite spot.

"Soooo, are you nervous? Excited?"

"Yes." I chuckle and order some food. "I'm nervous something might go wrong. But i'm excited to marry the love of my life."

"Awww our Corpsey is growing up." Felix says feigning choked up.

"Yeah, I really am. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with Y/N."

"So sappy. I love it." Sean chimes in. We eat once the food arrives and converse about anything and everything.

"Where are you guys going for your honeymoon?"

"Welllll were going to...." I tell them where. (Keeping it a surprise to you guys still.)

"She is going to love it!"

We then head to the venue to get ready.

Back to 2ND PERSON POV

You were finished up with your hair and makeup. You looked breathtakingly beautiful. Your mom chokes up.

"My baby girl. Getting married."

"Mom you're gonna me cry." You fan your eyes and hug her.

"Lets get to the venue and get you dressed. Thankfully the venue is right around the corner." She chuckles. You guys head there.

Upon arrival, you see many people already there. You were nervous, yet excited to marry Corpse. You get out of the car and go in, making sure no man sees you. You wanted to capture the moment your father sees you and your husband, of course. You go into a room of the barn there. You get dressed with the help of your best friend. Them and everyone tear up. At how breathtaking you look.

"I said I wouldn't cry but crap here we go." Your best friend says, fanning their eyes. You laugh, tearing up yourself.

"Guys I'm gonna cry!" You fan yourself. "God today is so emotional. I knew it would be."

"It's almost time guys!" Your mom yells, excited. She goes out and sits down. Your best friend goes out and waits for her turn. Your dad comes in and stops, his breath hitching.

"My baby girl. Getting married. To a wonderful man. Im so happy for you. You're so beautiful." He lets a few tears fall as he takes you into his arms. A Thousand Years by The Piano Guys starts to play. Signalling its time. Time to walk down the aisle to your future.

"Don't let me fall, daddy." You whisper, holding onto his arm. You take a deep breath.

"Never my love." You guys begin your ascend. You walk from the barn, to the aisle. Corpse sees you and instantly his eyes fill with tears. You were the only girl in the world, in that moment. Your own breath hitches at the sight of your future husband. You slowly walk to your Corpsey. He holds his hand out for you. Your dad lifts your veil and kisses you gently on the cheek.

“Who gives this young lady to this young man?” The wedding officiant says.

“I do.” Your father says, voice breaking. Corpse takes your hand and you hand off your flowers to your best friend so you can hold his other hand.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Corpse and Y/N. If anybody has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace. Thank the Lord nobody said anything.” That comment causes everyone to laugh. “The bride and groom have written their vows. Corpse, your first.”

“Y/N, when we met I knew we would be at least friends forever. When you said yes to dating me, I knew we were in for the long run. I had grown to have strong feelings for you. And they keep growing for you every second of every day. The love I have for you is unmatched. I never knew I could love anyone as much as I do you. You have shown me I am loveable, I am enough, I can conquer anything. You mean more to me than I ever thought possible. You really do complete me. You have made me a better man. And I am eternally grateful for you being in my life. Now here we are. On our wedding day, granted I started writing this when you said yes to marrying me, you look beyond breathtaking. You standing in front of me ready to say I do, I hope.I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives and beyond together. I promise to uplift you, to love you forever and beyond, to be there for you, to cherish you, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. Together we can do anything. I love you, Y/N Y/M/N.” By the end of the vows’ you were in tears, happy tears but still. You were thankful for good setting spray and waterproof makeup. Corpse’s voice had waived during the duration of his vows’. “Oh baby.” He wipes your tears from your cheeks, trying so hard not to kiss your supple lips.

“That was beautiful, holy crap. Any dry eyes up in here? No? I didn’t think so!” You chuckle.

“Y/N, are you okay to say your vows?” The officiant says.

“Yes. I’ve got this.” You take a deep breath before taking out your vows. “Corpse. My love. I knew from the moment I met you, we would forever be in each others lives. When I began to catch feelings for you, you asked me out. With great relief, I said yes. He likes me too! I knew from that moment on, we would get married someday. And I had a feeling that if the feeling was mutual, you’d pick Halloween as our wedding date.” You chuckle and sniffle a little. “My love for you only grows stronger as the seconds pass. I can’t imagine, nor will I, a life without you. You make me the happiest every moment of every day. I promise to love you until the end of time and beyond. I promise to be there for you, to love you no matter what happens in life. I promise to let you stream peacefully. I promise to have and to hold you in every way possible. I promise everything. I do I do I do. With all of my heart and soul, I do!” You wipe your tears and smile at your Corpse.

“Beautiful! Now who is ready to put them rings on?” The officiant chimes. “Corpse, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold? For richer or for poorer? In sickness and in health from this day forward?”

His face broke out in the biggest grin. “I do.” He slides on your ring.

“And do you, Y/N, take Corpse to be your lawfully wedded husband? You heard me say that stuff for him right? I don’t have to repeat?” He causes everybody to laugh again. “To have and to hold? For richer or for poorer? In sickness and in health from this day forward?”

“Hell yes I do!” You slip his ring on with the biggest grin matching Corpses.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife! Corpse, kiss your bride.”

“With pleasure.” He takes your cheeks in his hands and he kisses you passionately. Sparks and butterflies fly around. And you pull him in closer by his waist. Everyone cheers for you.

“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. H/L/N!” He pulls back only slightly before pecking your lips then holding your hands up.

“We’re married!” He cheers. You giggle and cheer as well. Your best friend hands you your flowers. You walk back down the aisle, a married woman.

--------

Decorations flow in the light breeze of the autumnal afternoon. Laughter and conversations warm up the reception before the bride and groom enter. The final click of the camera notifies you that it was time to go to the reception. You hold onto Corpse's arm, walking into the reception once announced. You guys had planned on doing the first dance right away, to get it out of the way for both of you don't dance the best. You guys practiced a slow dance though, the whole time you guys were engaged. I'll Follow You by Shinedown begins to play. You and Corpse go to straight to the dance floor. Your arms wrap around his neck loosely and his arms wrap around your waist.

If I could find assurance to leave you behind

I know my better half would fade

And all my doubts

Is a staircase for you

Up and out of this base

The first step is the one you believe in

The second one might be profound

Eyes lock. Love emits. Kisses pressed to your lips.

I'll follow you down to the eye of the storm

Don't worry I'll keep you warm

I'll follow you down

While we're passing through space

I don't care if we fall from grace

I'll follow you down

Twirls. Corpse twirls you a few times and pulls you close once again.

You can have the money and the world

The angels and the pearls

Even trade my heart for color blue

Just like the tower we never built

And the shadow of all the guilt

When the other hand was pointing at you

Yet the first step is the one you believe in

The second one might be profound

You look at your husband with nothing but pure love and joy. He truly makes you the happiest.

I'll follow you down to the eye of the storm

Don't worry I'll keep you warm

I'll follow you down while we are passing through space

I don't care if we fall from grace

You are picked up by your husband and spun around a few times.

I'll follow you down to where forever lies

Without a doubt I'm on your side

There is no where else I'd rather be

I'm not about to compromise

Give you up to say goodbye

I've got you through the deep

I'll keep you close to me

I'll follow you down to the eye of the storm

Don't worry I'll keep you warm

I'll follow you down

While we are passing through space

I don't care if we fall from grace

I'll follow you

If I could find assurance

To leave you behind

I know my better would fade

I'll follow you down

Corpse pulls you in for a sweet kiss. Dips you down. You squeal, feeling butterflies in your stomach. He chuckles at your response and pulls you back up. "I love you so much Mrs. H/L/N."

"I love you just as much, maybe more."

----------

Later that night, as the reception is winding down, you find your husband with his streaming buddies laughing away.

"Honey, it's almost time." You softly remind your husband. You knew you guys had a flight soon for the reception was almost finished.

"Okay baby, let's go get dressed." His voice, though always raspy, was soft and sweet. He pressed a kiss to your temple. You just smile up at him and press a kiss to his jaw. Back to the changing rooms of the barn, you guys venture off to. You change into a cute little white dress, while Corpse changes into a button up shirt and some jeans. You guys meet back up, your veil still on.

"My beautiful wife." Emphasis on the wife. "I'll never tire of calling you my wife." His smile was unbreakable.

"Where are we going?" You ask, still unaware of where he was taking you for your honeymoon.

"Hmmm. Where is somewhere you have always wanted to go?"

"Bora bora?"

"Yes baby."

"What! How?!"

"Thank Sean for helping. It was part of his gift." He winks and chuckles. You jump up into his arms and hug him tightly. Perfect way to end the perfect day.

Tag list: @teenloves @whatinthyworld @deadangelbride @teamragnarssons @lovely-ki

#corpse husband imagine #corpse husband

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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02. Don’t Trust Adults

Currently, I’m thinking that I want to write these as standalone pieces, even though, I’m keeping with the same AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. But, for the sake of anyone who wants to view it as a series, I’ll number them. 3125 words TW: child neglect, abuse, mentions of child death

She was 12. The past couple of years had been easier than all 10 preceding them, but she wasn’t quite aware enough to credit that to her friendship with Simon Laurent. To be perfectly honest, she was a very self centered child and that didn’t magically change when she found herself a friend at the age of 10. In fact, Simon’s attention made her a little more sure of herself. She had been working off of the idea that she was never good enough, even though she found it hard to find flaws in herself.

She would look into the mirror and think, “She’s beautiful. She’s a goddess. how are people not seeing that??” She would look at the world and see flowing blond hair, fair skin, rosy cheeks and this was the height of all beauty. This was the height of all acceptance. It was meh, for her. She would look in the mirror. THIS is the height of all beauty. She kept a mirror on her at all times and in instances where she might be challenged or criticized, she would take a look at herself and remember. They’re just jealous. Look at you, and look at them. She would quickly get over any rudeness, alienation, or discrimination, because those people just wanted to be her, and you weren’t going to convince her of any other alternative.

Then, came along Simon. He was appealing in this "looks aren't his main concern, but he's got a few nice features" sort of way, and he always seemed to need to have his hands doing something.

The first time she saw him, when they were 10, she spent several minutes weighing out what she was seeing in front of her. A boy, her age or in her age range, a nerd? He had a backpack with a bunch of patches and pins on it - stuff that she wasn’t too familiar with, but TV and stuff would indicate were nerdy things. She had never met a real nerd, that she could remember, so that part was debatable. He wasn’t very wealthy. That was evident from the state of his pants that were ripped at one of the knees and clearly not in a fashionable way - he’d simply worn them out, and also his shoes... which WEREN’T shoes... they were sandals... and he had socks on with them... so... he had no fashion sense, EITHER, and apparently neither did whatever adult was responsible for him. If there WAS an adult responsible for him.

It was nighttime. Her instructor had gone for a little while to finish up some things before the shops closed at 7 or 8, so it was nighttime, and this kid her age was running into this building from a gang of bullies, by himself, in the condition that he was in. There probably wasn’t an adult that cared, or realized... (in that case, probably didn’t care) because if you cared, you’d realized that your kid was a complete mess.

And this kid was a complete mess.

But... he seemed innocent, and he seemed nice. Grace may have been self centered, but she knew that nice kids weren’t easy to come across. After she sent the kid on his way, she thought that was that.

Whenever he came back the next night, she was convinced: This is a street kid. There are no parents. There are no adults. That must be really fun and cool! She demanded that her driver bring him home, and whenever the car stopped, she began to get out, too.

Simon seemed nervous to have her getting out of the car at his house, but what was he going to do? Argue with her? She’d just given him a ride home. He KNEW he should have gotten her to drop him off a few blocks away and pretended to go into some other house! “You don’t have to get out,” he said, anxiously.

“Are you kidding? I have to see the adults that let you stay out past dark by yourself, and walk out of the house like that.” She circled a finger up and down his form and he blushed, embarrassed. But also... he couldn’t show his adults to her. They were always in their own spaces and he was always shut out of said spaces. She laughed and mumbled in singsong tone, “Socks and sandals.” He knew he was turning even redder and he was grateful it was dark out, though the moon did offer some light and the rest was provided by the open garage, where his dad was working.

“Dad, this is Grace. She gave me a ride home...” Simon said, shuffling his feet and looking at the ground with his hands pulling his backpack strings.

The palest man that Grace had ever seen in her life, with blonder than blond hair, and blond flesh - if that was a thing and eyebrows and arm hairs, and just all blond colored features turned to look at her. She stepped back, but stepped on Simon’s toe and leapt forward apologetically, then reflexively extended her hand, “Grace Monroe of the Monroe Square Monroes!” She said. He had on work gloves, which he removed to shake her hand and offered a smile. It was a smile, she was sure of it, but his pale features made it a little hard for her to tell and she also thought it looked sad.

But, his voice was friendly. He said, “Well, I never thought I’d see the day that a Monroe would be in here...” But he quickly became worried and crossed his arms over his chest, “Simon, what did you do?” He asked.

“I didn’t do anything!” Simon snapped. He had gotten into several fights in the past few weeks (none he’d started) and gotten enraged a few times and “vandalized” some things, so NOW, everybody always suspected that he did something.

“We’re friends!” Grace cheered, clapping her hands together, happy to be able to make such an announcement, whether or not it was true. This situation seemed to need some type of... nice girl talk.

Mr. Laurent stared at her for a moment and lowered his arms. “Friends?” He didn’t say, “Simon doesn’t have any friends,” but Simon felt like he heard the statement as clearly as if he had. He shrank a little, hoping that Grace couldn’t hear it too. Instead, the man offered a smile and said, “Well, nice to meet you, Grace Monroe. Simon can tell you that I’m working on something and can’t afford too many breaks, but you’re welcome to anything in the house. You kids have fun.”

She looked confused. “I’m going home. It’s almost 10. We were just dropping Simon off because he was out...” But the man didn’t respond, as he put his work gloves back on and got back to his project.

Simon offered, “He’s kinda in the zone.”

“What about your mom?” Grace asked, excitedly. She’d never met a friend’s parents before and it was kinda interesting how different these were than her own! Her parents would NEVER be this chill about her coming home late from an unplanned appointment or event. Her driver was likely checking in with them right now, hopefully saying that there was unexpected traffic.

Simon looked incredibly sad, pulled out a luggage tag, attached to, but tucked into, his backpack of a family portrait and said, “This is her. But, she doesn’t like to be bothered. She’s probably reading or passed out. She’s my mom, but she doesn’t really do mom stuff anymore. Something happened and she’s... She has something where she’s really sad and has to try to get doctors to make her less sad, but it hasn’t worked yet, so she just stays in her room.”

Grace got sad. Uncomfortably so. She tried to change the subject and pointed to a little girl sitting in the photo, “Well, where’s this little cute thing? With a nanny, while your mom is sad-sick?” Simon’s eyebrows pushed closely together and he stared at the photo. He didn’t really talk about this. He didn’t like to, and his parents had stopped trying to speak with him about it too. Anytime it came up, he usually got really angry and scared. He tried to catch his breath, forgetting that Grace was there for a moment, but still wanting to at least hold on to some type of control.

Grace felt bad because of his face and she was worried that he was about to yell at her and tell her to leave. He was making the kind of face that her dad made right before he stripped away every inch of confidence that she had in something that she thought she did right, and he’d let her know that she had not. She stepped back and quickly tried to diffuse it. “Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You’d have told me if you wanted me to know! I’m going to go. You have a good night, Simon.”

He looked up at her, and his face changed. It softened. It warmed up. His eyebrows evened out and a tiny smile fought to cross his lips. She sighed, a little bit relieved that the monster that she thought she’d woken up was gone and there was her new friend again. “You too, Grace,” he said. He tucked the tag into his bag, without looking at it, and went into the house, through a door in the garage. “Good night, Dad.”

She looked at his super blond dad. He didn’t even seem to hear his son, but whenever she started walking away, the man said, “Good night, Young Lady!” Which... made her feel like maybe he’d purposefully not said it to Simon. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she choked out another fake cheerful good night for the adult, because it was very rude not to reply to adults and if he was mean to his own son, she didn’t know how mean he might be to her if she insulted him.

After that night, whenever she brought him home, they just dropped him off, saw that he got inside, and left. After the recital, she wasn’t going to be having those practices anymore, though. She’d be back on a schedule at her home. She... wouldn’t see Simon again.

The other girls went out for ice cream. They didn’t invite Grace. She was really upset about it, but whenever she heard Simon’s voice calling her name and turned to see that he had come out in, not only a complete pair of pants, but also actual shoes, she felt all of the rejection that was encasing itself around her heart just melt. She whispered, “Simon.” He smiled, a little startled and confused about whatever her tone of voice was, but he didn’t pay it too much attention and began to shower her with praise about the show.

He admitted that he had to case the auditorium and find another way in, because he didn’t have a ticket, but that he had gotten in and had seen her entire performance. “You were the best out there!” he had said. Nobody ever told her that before. And even though it was true, in her mind, whenever Simon said it, it became a little bit more real. She felt validated and vindicated. Just like a game of Simon Says, but Simon is your friend and he knows what’s best... Not trying to make you look silly. She was gleaming... then it stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“This is the last night that I’m gonna be here,” she said in the saddest voice that he’d ever heard come out of her. “I’m going to be at home tomorrow night and there won’t be another reason for me to be back in the city.” Simon’s face went through an array of emotions. His smile faded, then his mouth turned into a frown, then his lips quivered a bit and his eyes darkened and dampened. She was leaving? She wasn’t going to come back? He wasn’t going to see her again? She was gonna be gone... Just like... He lowered his head and blinked away tears.

She felt her chest tighten again. “Maybe...” He looked up, hopeful and misty eyed, his face begging her for a solution to this pain she’d just inflicted on him, “Maybe we could find a way to see each other... closer to where I live? It’s far from you, but...” She shook her head, clenching her dress, “No. That’s stupid. And it’s unfair. You don’t have the means to come see me... But my parents will never let me come this far out without good reason...”

“I’ll do it!” Simon declared. “I’ll come to see you, sure.”

She couldn’t bear looking up at him, “How would you do that?”

“I’m...” He thought for a while, trying to even guess what would be possible for this, “Gonna learn the train schedule. I’ll figure out the route closest to you, and then hike the rest of the way there,” he said like it was some type of simple idea. And at 10, it seemed like one to her too. Because she looked up, in just as much excitement and smiled brightly. And that was all that Simon needed as fuel. Yes, he was going to make it work to see her smiling face. “Ummm... I can start learning tomorrow,” he said.

“Okay, But... Do you wanna go get some ice cream with me before we take you home?” She had her dress clutched firmly in her gloved hands and hoped that he didn’t notice them, because she hated that portion of herself that did that whenever she was scared. Being scared was being lazy, and clutching her clothing to try to get over it was being weak.

“I don’t really have ice cream money,” Simon admitted, blushing in embarrassment. He had gone into his small savings just to get some decent pants and shoes, even though he got them thrift shop... they were outside of his budget. He was gonna buy himself a new figure to compose, but decided that Grace’s recital was more important, because she worked really hard and her parents couldn’t come.

She laughed and waved a hand, “I’m inviting you, Simon. I’ve got you!” He smiled and nodded his head with a little affirmative grunt. I’ve got you. That mattered a lot to him that night. He wasn’t going to ever let it go, and two years later, he hadn’t.

They were 12. Grace was annoyed that she made the mistake of expressing interest in making the music she danced to, because NOW, she had to have hours of music theory, composition, and instrument practice added to her schedule, and that didn’t mean she got a “break” from dance. It only meant that she was fortifying her resume. She didn’t want to fortify her resume. She wanted to maybe watch one of those vids on the Internet, like Simon sometimes did to help him create a dragon out of household items, but like for her to create a really sick mix for her next audition... But, here she was, buried in research and scarce for free time.

Then, she heard her favorite sound in the world! Simon coming up the fire escape stairs. He was the only person who ever used those, so she knew it was him every time. She put her work away in the drawer of her vanity, which she used as a desk, because she didn’t want a desk in her room, because it might just take up too much space, and she always had a lot of plans for the space in her room.

He climbed into the window and tossed his backpack down. She met him with a hug and asked him about what he was working on. Simon was her nice break from things. He would always be really excited to talk about the stuff that was going on in his life (his stories and models) and he always sprinkled in either something fun and competitive, or accolades for her as a person and her talents. It was perfect. She was able to get all of her praise, ignore all of her responsibilities for a bit, and most importantly, not delve too much into her private and personal matters. If she put the focus on Simon’s feelings and experiences, she didn’t have to share her own.

It wasn’t that she thought that Simon wouldn’t care about her problems, it was that she knew he would. Simon had enough problems without her burdening him with her stuff.

Like, shortly after they met, his mom bought an emotional support cat, but she neglects it as much as she did him, so it wound up being Simon’s emotional support cat, only the cat is a TOTAL B word, and of all the things to call one... his mom decided on “Samantha.” Why on earth would anybody name a cat Samantha? Then again, the cat was a TOTAL Samantha. She knew she was smart and she was quite selfish and conceited.

Grace told Simon that all cats are that way, but she only read that somewhere. Samantha was the only cat that she really ever gotten anywhere close to, and not often, because she didn’t go to Simon’s house. But, he always had things to say about her, and made a little comic “Tales of Samantha” that he’d post on the Internet. It had a huge following. Apparently, people who really loved cats also really loved talking a lot of trash about them and seeing them be terrible and funny at the same time.

Simon preferred talking about Samantha, grazing over his dad’s current model obsession, and occasionally venting about his mom. Like, how he stopped trying to make her dinner whenever he’d knocked on the door, as per house rules, and accidentally woke her up, causing her to have such an emotional explosion that his dad heard it from the garage and came inside to try to settle her down. Apparently, at some point in the explosion, she had confessed that it “Should have been” Simon... And he stopped at that point, in retelling the incident, and also in interacting with his mother at all. It wasn’t even that he disagreed with her. He just... Didn’t need to have to face that feeling if he thought that he didn’t HAVE to.

Grace had been exactly what he needed at the time, though. She always was. Her brown eyes were soft on him when he said out loud the most painful things that he ever thought he would have to say. She touched his shoulder, squeezed it and tousled his hair with the other hand, “It shouldn’t have been either of you. I’m sorry that your sister is gone, but I’m super glad that you aren’t. And it’s really unfortunate that it was her, but it shouldn’t have been you, either. And you constantly blaming yourself is bad enough, without additional help from the REAL villains in this tragedy. Who leaves their 10 year old and 4 year old unsupervised? It’s illegal in most states, and in those states where it’s legal, there is a time frame and she was still too young to feature in those. I read it, myself. The real problem with most of our lives is the adults.” Her face turned and she looked elsewhere for a moment, “They’re...”

“Not to be trusted,’ he completed the sentence. She smiled and looked at him again. He got it. Sometimes, it was like he was inside of her mind.

“Exactly.”

“But, they have all of the power. Even being a very independent 12 year old, if I do say so myself; there’s so many things that I can’t do without the approval or permission of one.”

“This world is rigged against us, Man.”

“Speaking of things we read. I read that at 16, I can emancipate myself.” Simon looked thoughtfully ahead, “And I’m pretty sure that I’m gonna.” She smiled sadly and lowered her head. “You gonna come with?”

She laughed, “If I thought that there was anywhere in this world that my parents couldn’t find me and bring me back (And make me suffer for having the audacity to go), I’d have strapped on my sneaks and got to running a long time ago.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “But, you’ll still come see me, right?”

“I’m gonna leave my parents, Grace. Not you. I’d never leave you.” He wrapped an arm around her and she settled into his side, unaware that she had been so tense a moment before that needed confirmation. “We’re a team,” he whispered. She just smiled. We’re a team.

#infinity train #infinity train fanfiction #Nesha Fanfiction #AU Infinity Train #fics #If They Didn't Get on the Train #Don't Trust Adults

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years

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Betty//Dark Secret

Request: Can I request a Betty/Reader where you find out about "Dark" Betty and you and her both realise you're kinda into it when it comes to the bedroom, maybe you defend her/comfort her after the round of Sins and Secrets at the party?

Warnings: No smut, but a bit on the risqué side (oooo)

“Hey ba-Woah!” You stop mid-sentence as you walk into your girlfriends room, dropping the bouquet of flowers you had in your hand.

Betty had invited you over to hang out for the day seeing as though her parents weren’t in and she was bored. You were supposed to go over a bit later in the day but decided to go over a little early to surprise her. Plus, any excuse to spend more time with her was a plus point.

“Y/n!” Her eyes widen while she scrambles about to find something to cover herself up. “What are you doing here? You’re an hour early!?”

“I thought I’d surprise you.” You shrug, not entirely sure where to look. There she was, stood in front of you in a black lacy bra, black skirt, choker and dark black wig, making your brain stop for a good few seconds. “But, I think you’re the one doing the surprising.” You add, your voice lowering while you bite your bottom lip. You look her up and down while a bright blush spreads over her face. “Damn.” You mumble. “Not that I’m complaining.” You start, moving towards her. “But what exactly are you doing?” You ask, pushing the robe off her shoulders and letting it fall to the ground.

“Just trying something out.” She mumbles. “Its stupid.”

“Its not.” You reply, looking her in the eye. She still has a blush on her cheeks and you don’t know how you got a girl that can be adorable and sexy at the same time. “You look hot.”

“Whatever.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, what did you want to do today?” She asks, turning away from you.

“You?” You reply, a smirk on your lips and she rolls her eyes, turning back to face you. “I’m being serious. Well, I was thinking we could maybe go shopping or something, we do need to get the decorations for Jughead’s party, but thats next week so we have plenty of time. Right now, I’d rather stay in and well, you know.”

“Babe.” She blushes.

“We can go shopping if you want.” You reply and turn around.

“No.” She says quickly, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to her. “I wanna stay in too. I’ll just get changed and then we can, you know...” She trails off and starts to take her outfit off.

“Keep it on.” You grab her hand, stopping her from doing anything.

“What?” She asks, standing up properly.

“Keep. It. On.” You repeat slowly and she looks down at herself before back at you and nodding.

“Okay.”

-------

“What the hell is Secrets and Sins?” Jughead asks. The majority of the people have some how been roped into playing this stupid game and you and Betty are sat beside each other on the sofa. Your hand in hers, while you down the rest of whatever the hell Archie put in your cup.

“Its a variation on Truth or Dare…in which we own our truths by telling it like it is. I’ll start the game with…Veronica Lodge.” Cheryl explains to the group of teenagers all sat in a circle and you’re now starting to regret agreeing to this. Suck and Blow would have been a better game than this, a lot of shit goes on in Riverdale. A lot of shit people don’t want others to know about.

“Naturally.” Veronica replies sarcastically.

“Let’s begin with the day you and your mob wife of a mother came to town for a so-called fresh start. Tell us Veronica, what’s so fresh about defiling Archie Andrews in a closet?”

“That was your doing.” She replies confused, her arms crossing defensively against her chest. You and Betty share a look before looking at Jughead, he looks like he wants to be anyway else but here, and to be honest you can’t blame him. You knew he’d hate this, but Betty insisted because of how much he’d been through and there’s not much you’ll say no to when it comes to your girlfriend.

“Moving on to dear Daddy Lodge…Isn’t it true that your father, from prison, illegally purchased the drive-in land? Which makes me wonder, what else is he doing behind bars?”

“Well, I can’t speak for my father…but I can think of someone with a very dirty secret. Specifically, Cheryl killing her very own brother.” The tension in the room increases and everyone looks at each other.

“Shit.” You mutter. “Do I have any dirty secrets that anyone knows.”

“Only me, and don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.” She reassures you and you let out a deep breath.

“Everyone knows how much I loved my brother.” Cheryl defends herself.

“Exactly.” Veronica replies. “But did you love him, maybe in ways that a sister shouldn’t love a brother? And as you got older, Jason started to think it was strange, unnatural. So he chose Polly over you. So you shot him between the eyes with one of your father’s many hunting rifles.”

“This is riveting. I can’t breathe.” Kevin whispers excitedly to Joaquin.

“This game is sick.” Dilton stands up and you roll your eyes while Cheryl wipes away the tears on her cheek. “I wanna go next.” He adds making everyone look at him.

“Thats the spirit, Doiley. What secrets do you have to reveal to us?” Chuck says happily.

“I saw Ms. Grundy’s car by Sweetwater River the day Jason went missing.” He admits and everyone gasps. You, Betty and Archie side glance each other and shift uncomfortably in your seats. “I told Betty and Y/n, and then Ms. Grundy quit her job and left Riverdale, like, two days later. And lets not forget that Archie was also at Sweetwater River that morning.”

“Oh, my God.” Cheryl whips her head round to look at Archie. “Colour me shocked. Archie Andrews, is that why you became a mediocre musician overnight? Because you and Ms. Four-Eyes were pulling a Mary Kay Letourneau?”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t get in the gutter with them.” Veronica tells him.

“Wait, what? Andrews was banging a teacher?” Chuck says impressed and you roll your eyes. “I wish I would’ve known. I would have added you and Ms. Grundy to the book of conquests.”

“Classy, Chuck, as always.”

“Wait a second.” Cheryl interrupts. “That also explains why Archie can’t seem to keep a girlfriend to save his life. He’s got serious mommy issues. Anything to say for yourself Arch? Were you a victim or a perpetrator?” She says and you look at Archie. You can tell he’s getting uncomfortable and kind of upset and you need to do something quick. You look at Betty and she looks around the room, trying to think of something to say.

“Dilton Doiley plays with guns.” She interjects, but is immediately shut down.

“Big whoop, Betty. So Doiley’s a psychopath. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, I guess its my turn now. Boy, do I have a twisted secret to reveal, starring Betty Cooper.” Chuck turns to the two of you and your grip on her hand tightens while your eyes narrow. You’re staring daggers at Chuck and Betty struggles to keep you sat down.

“Leave her the hell alone, Chuck.” Archie threatens.

“Shut up, Andrews.” He replies. “Look, you may get a free peep show every night, but you do not know her. Hell, Betty doesn’t even know herself. Everybody knows why I got suspended, but what you don’t know…she dressed up like a hooker, in a God-awful black wig, drugged me, handcuffed me in the Jacuzzi, and well, I almost drowned until she got me to say what she wanted to hear. And then she really lost it. She actually thought she was Polly.” He winks at you. “But, hey, you knew all about this right, Y/n. Does she do that with you too, or was it just a special treat for me?” You’re standing up in an instant, Betty and Archie following quickly, each with a hand on your arm to keep you from doing anything stupid.

“Oh grow up, Chuck. Its the 21st century. The only person having missionary sex is you and whoever the girl your disappointing is.” You retort and his jaw clenches. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’m the one that suggested she do all that to you, to make you crack. You are an asshole, and you deserved everything she did to you.” You slowly make your way towards him. “So do us all a favour, and find someone else to annoy. Or better yet, go home and satisfy the only thing you know how to...yourself. But even then, I’m sure thats a disappointment too.” You say the last part quietly, glancing down before looking back at him, a small smile gracing your features before you shove past him. Betty follows after you, saying goodbye and sorry to Archie, Veronica and Jughead before grabbing your jackets and running after you.

“Babe!” She shouts and you stop on the sidewalk, turning around and smiling brightly at her. “I got your jacket.” She says and you take it from her gratefully.

“Thanks.” You reply and the two of you start to walk back to yours.

“I’m sorry.” She sighs.

“That party sucked anyway.” You shrug.

“No, I mean for everything. You didn’t have to say that stuff you know. About how you told me to do it. I don’t even know what I was thinking when I did it. Its like a red-mist came over me.” She shakes her head and you frown.

“What did you expect me to do? Let Chuck talk about my girlfriend like that? I don’t think so.”

“I suppose.” She sighs sadly. “God, I’m so embarrassed. People are gonna be talking about my ‘kinky’ side forever. Think of the nicknames, and everything else. I’m such an idiot. I never should have put on that stupid wig, or done any of that stuff with Chuck.”

“I think people are going to be talking about Cheryl wanting to fuck her brother and Chuck’s disappointing sex life more.” You nudge her shoulder softly and she smiles a little. “And even if they do say anything, I’ll be there to defend you. Always. Plus, I like your kinky side.” You wink at her and she lets out a giggle. “You look damn hot in that wig and Chuck should be grateful that he got to see it.”

“Babeeeee.” She rolls her eyes.

“What?” You ask. “Its true. I feel lucky every time I get to see you in general, let alone like that. Everyone in there was just jealous because they have to use their imagination, when I get the real deal.”

“Thank you.” She smiles at you gratefully. “Seriously, you’re the best.”

“I have an idea of how you could really show me how grateful you are.” You say with a smirk and she laughs loudly, a blush starting to creep up her neck.

“I think I have an idea too.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “Whats that?”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard your neighbours will know my name.” She whispers in your ear and you gulp, your face turning bright red.

“I-I, err I was thinking about you-err just buying me Pop’s.” You splutter. “But that works too.” You say quickly and she grabs your hand, pulling you towards your house, anything that happened at the party instantly forgotten.

#betty cooper #betty cooper imagine #betty cooper x reader #betty cooper x you #betty cooper x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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itchyboogers · 4 years

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hello comrades

my name is grace. i'm gonna be honest right now, not sure exactly what this post is. just because i can't function without order, i'm gonna make a list of reasons why i'm sharing my story:

to spread awareness

because i need an outlet

many of my friends suggested i share this

simply to entertain whoever might take a look at it

just in case, because of my paranoia, i’m saying right now i don’t want any witch hunt. i feel like saying this is really reaching in terms of how many people are gonna read this, but my concern insists. this is gonna be a long article, so i’m putting the little “read more” thingamabob right here.

trigger warning, for like, everything

about me; prologue?

as you saw above, my name is grace. i’m 19, and this is a very personal experience that i’ve gone through. first, let me introduce everything that’s wrong with me. i have high-functioning autism, and throughout my life my autism has been the root of my downfall. ever since 2nd grade i’ve gotten the short end of the stick. you always hear about prodigy kids whose grades and social lives falter as the years pass, i am 100% one of them. this story isn’t necessarily about me, but i’ve been through some shit, son.

i have a family that is more supportive than i could ever ask for, i’m not gonna lie and say that my at-home life was miserable - because home was my safe place, and public school was where i fought my battles. i was a very eccentric kid and while my autism has limited me, it has also given me the ability to think outside of the box, blah blah blah so i’m grateful for it as well.

by the time i got to 6th grade, things went way more south than i thought they could go. i was a bit of an edgelord back then so i was skipping 4th period with my friend in the locker room. we’re dicking around, looking in lockers, climbing the stalls, being stupid kids. somewhere along the line we jump into the topic of sexuality, and she tells me she thinks she might be bi. i said that wouldn’t change anything about us, and that i might not like boys at all.

she told me about her parents not agreeing with the whole gay thing and she wasn’t even close to thinking of coming out of the closet because her parents would disown her. real fucked up, but it happened back then still quite frequently. i promised her i wouldn’t tell anybody and that i wouldn’t even think about outing her to anyone, and we gave each other a cute little friend hug, it was cute.

about 3 days later on the weekend, we’re texting and a small argument boils between us and another friend in a group chat. it starts to become a bigger argument, because kids are stupid and dramatic, and i definitely was. she ended up kicking me out of the group chat and i cried myself to sleep (i know lmao). i went to school on monday and i immediately get called into the principal’s office, regarding sexual assault claims. she lied and told the school faculty that i tried to touch her inappropriately during that time we skipped class in the locker room. she also got her friends to tell everybody.

long story short i became severely depressed, gained weight, got my head shoved in a toilet filled with piss by some 8th graders friends with that girl’s older sister, and started self-harming to suppress my urge to hurt other people. my meds got switched around (it’s why i gained weight) and i ended up switching schools because a public school had an IEP i think it was called? anyway

blah blah blah countless school stories and misfortunes blah blah blah crohn’s disease blah blah blah ambulance sent to the school all that jazz. it’s gonna hurt too much if i talk about PRLC, but basically there was a low-funded school for kids who wanted a second chance due to disability, drugs, ect. it was out at a wildlife preservation park with all sorts of animals, i met my best friends there, became the person i am today, ect. but staff changes ended up changing the school for the worse and eventually i got dismissed.

very long depression period, i got kicked out from the school i used to call a second home back in 2018 and this cycle hasn’t ended yet, to this day. i’m hoping writing this will give me some closure or something, because writing about my misfortunes online has sent me opportunities in the past. i am not a perfect person, i never have been, and i can still name many things about my psyche and outlook on life that i’d like to someday change.

the main course

this is where i start talking about somebody that i won’t mention by name, but i’ll call him music boy for convenience. in december of last year i got to see my favorite band live for the second time, the first being april of 2018. i love this band with all my heart, and i’m not going to mention them by name. but after the concert i was going through some heavy post-concert sadness, and i wanted to share my love and appreciation so i find a semi-active discord server dedicated to said band, and i join. i make some friends and acquaintances over a span of 2-3 months.

marijuana got legalized in my state this year, something i had been anticipating for a long time, ergo from january 2020 to the beginning of april 2020, i was in a constant state of stoned off my ass. nobody saw sober grace until the late days of april. i was not in any way able to make proper decisions regarding, say, a relationship. and it was really obvious that i was high, nobody would have thought otherwise.

after i get home from a birthday vacation to arizona on february 2nd, i start going in the voice chats for the server. i would say in the general chat something along the lines of “sick, i’m super baked i’m gonna go bother the voice chat” and i end up in a group chat consisting of most of the server members that are “of age” (so not too many). at this point i’m barely aware i’m making friends, but one person in the group i really happened to resonate with. her name is Christina, and she’s to this day my number 1 mom friend and goblin sibling. <3

i meet a handful of more people in the group chat (we called it the “after hours”) and we have a lot of fun doing different activities over discord. for example we all decided to sign up for club penguin online (which is now proven to be run by a predator, i believe) and we all battled each other in card-jitsu. or i would share my screen as i went on Omegle and did goofy high shit on there and met people under the “memes” or “weed” tags.

in this after hours group chat, one of the active members was music boy. he was the owner of the server dedicated to the band i love. why music boy? because he wants desperately to become a famous musician. there’s something about music boy that’s... ‘different’. i don’t know if anyone knows what i mean when i say, his energy was awry. the best way to describe music boy is kind of mean, but it’s the only way i’m able to express how this guy is as a person. i can best describe him by saying he expects his life to play out as a WattPad fanfiction, him being the main character.

just so you get the main point, this one time i was on Omegle dicking around ha ha funny random people, but music boy was silent. he then typed in the chat that he was gonna go on Omegle himself and do something painfully unfunny, he said he was gonna get his guitar and use that as a prop to “vibe check” people on the website. it wasn’t funny but everybody (me included) was sort of brainwashed into thinking he could do no wrong. don’t know how he got me to laugh at that, especially with his delivery of the joke.

yet, he didn’t want to “vibe check” people, i know that now - he just couldn’t stand when he wasn’t the center of attention. so he left and told a mod, who was also in the group chat, to join the server voice chat with him. and he announced that he was streaming himself vibe checking people on Omegle. the iffy part about that is that the entire reason he made the after hours chat was to keep NSFW stuff off the server, and it was basically prompted by me streaming myself messing around on Omegle and seeing a lot of (pretty expected) male genitalia. i’m not gonna explain that any further because anybody with a brain can understand why that was a confusing move on his part.

eventually february 14th came by, and i, being as high as i was, decided to send music boy a bunch of goofy valentine’s day cards, like the ones that were popular in 2013. i kept sending them because at the time i thought it was so funny, and i’m a natural flirt when i’m stoned. keep in mind everybody knew they hadn’t seen me sober yet, the joke in the server was basically 'when is grace not high?’ so it was evident that my decision-making process was impaired.

for some reason music boy wanted us to all play DnD, even though half of us didn’t know or give a rat’s ass how to play. i would make stupid jokes, and everybody would laugh, but music boy would exaggerate, he would go ‘oh thats how it is? is that how this is going to be’ or some unfunny shit like that because he thought every single joke or reference that anyone made had something to do with him, because, you know, he is the main character, after all. he eventually made a really embarrassing big deal about him ‘accepting my valentine proposal’ and then he went to bed i guess.

the next day or two is a blur to me, all i remember and know is that Christina knew that he was taking advantage of me always being super high, but she didn’t want to assume anything. like she had always seen me make a joke and then would see music boy turn that joke sexual, even when it was nearly impossible to make a suggestive joke out of what i originally joked about, which to be honest was probably my flawless Sméagol impression. but he would repeat the Gollum voice and say something unfunny that we all laughed at.

basically, if you haven’t caught on, music boy is a major egotistical narcissist that cannot stand having somebody that isn’t him being paid attention to. he told me his “dream” (that's TOTALLY gonna come true, by the way) was to go to a concert of the band the server was dedicated to, but he would show up in a custom made shirt that said “[lead singer of band] IS A THOT” and then the band’s guitarist would point it out and laugh because it’s SO funny and then get the lead singer’s attention, who would pull music boy on stage and challenge him to pehen he would start serenading the crowd and all the girls’ panties would instantly get soaked, all the tabloids would hear about it, and the band would jizz their pants, and he would become an overnight sensation.

here’s where stuff gets dodgy. i’m not claiming this is abuse, because i don’t have experience with abusive relationships, and i’m not in any place to assume that i understand what it’s like to be in one, but my friends have told me that he mentally abused me and took advantage of the state i was in. somewhere along the line he would, in the group call, tell his sob story about how all his friends ghosted him and tried to cancel him because of some sort of misconduct accusation in a previous server, and how i was his savior for putting my trust in him and believing his side of the story and he said some things about becoming a happier person because he met me, and it was all very unnecessarily dramatic and extremely manipulative disregarding if he noticed he was doing it or not.

I.E.

“and... then I met this girl... this really weird girl! then i saw her face, and i thought i loved her, but i found out she only liked girls and i lost all hope but then out of nowhere she sends me valentines cards! and now shes my valentine”

or some really really stupid gay shit like that, it’s the best i can imitate him without gagging or getting sick. then eventually (eventually being equal to ‘within the first week of meeting me’) he hEsiTaNtLy asks me to, like, idk be his e-girlfriend. he knew i was baked to oblivion and wasn’t in a proper state to make up my mind on anything serious but then again am i the main character?

no.

music boy is the main character.

if i’m being gut-wrenchingly honest here, i only genuinely liked the idea of being in an e-relationship with music boy for a day or a day and a half. the entire time i was just stoned out of my mind and not thinking as i normally do, i was nonchalant until april fools day when all hell broke loose in the server. on a live stream, the lead singer of the band made a suggestion that he was in the server that music boy made. and dear God, you would have thought it was the second coming of Christ by the way music boy reacted to it.

he was being unbelievably hyper, even for someone with ADHD. he was hauling his uncanny-valley looking forcibly ripped body around his room like a genetically mutated spider monkey, banging his head against his bed, stopping mid-sentence to play a quirky chord on his handy dandy acoustic guitar while he looked in the webcam and made a quirky blank face. it was like watching a six y/o meet Iron Man, even though there was nothing really to be too elated about.

he made an emoji for it and everything, he even posted on the “Official [band name] Discord Server”’s instagram account, but it was just a video of him, and the thumbnail was his goofy ass face, the whole video was just music boy saying unfunny shit trying to lowkey promote the server while flexing at the same time, something like [lead singer] we know you’re here!! you are welcome here my lord idk lmfaooo

but at this point i was becoming too sober to stand by silently and watch this moron suck his own toes, i wasn’t gonna act like his music was good and i wasn’t gonna act like he was gonna become a superstar without question. the breaking point was mostly when he almost came his pants and cried when the lead singer allegedly joined his server, but i came close to breaking when i started casually humming in the group call and hes like

Hold Up 👁️👄👁️ wait you’re so good... why are you so good? you’re like really good and i mean it!! you’re like, almost as good as me! but you know i have YEARS of practice you know haha but you’re like super good!

and then I decided to humor myself by showing him a cover i recorded and the first thing he said after listening to it halfway was “this scares me”, so that was a pretty big warning sign.

blah blah blah i cried for an hour after that then called him again just to break up with him because of my own mental health and he did handle this very well, not bashing him for that. i basically told him no we aren’t taking a break this shindig will no longer continue, like at all, ever and hes like okay cool yknow it hurts but ill get over it, and i really didnt expect that. because, he basically implied that if i left him he would k*ll himself.

i tried to keep the friendship going because i dont like abandoning people, but he slowly started getting distant from me, and the entire server kind of distanced themselves from me too, but at the time i only noticed music boy getting apprehensive with me. keep in mind (i keep saying that, don’t i?) i thought everybody in the server was cool with me making offensive-ish jokes because they had no problem with it during the time i was “with” music boy. then one day i get called out for talking about - i’m not joking - weed. i started ranting about how weed is my medicine and it was kinda silly to get so pissy over the devil’s lettuce but i dont think i made too big of a deal out of what i could have made.

couple days later im talking in the server again. i’m a very blunt person, my humor is very dry and it can tend to go over some people’s heads if they don’t have enough brain cells. i made a joke that i’d already made in the server before about me being r-word because autism and haha funny joke.

i get kicked out of the server.

at the time i was confused because i had no idea that i even said anything wrong. i messaged music boy a bit passive-aggressively because despite my confusion i still had a vague idea of what was happening. i said something like "was i too edgy" and like 3 minutes later he responds "you were making a lot of dudes uncomfortable”

mcscuse me bietch?

NOBODYYYYY in the general chat had told me that i was making them feel uncomfy whatsoever, and i dont think anything could have implied that anyone was in any way uncomfortable, and with these social situations i’ve explained to everyone in the after hours chat that sometimes i don’t get social cues. i’m autistic!!! it’s a very rare occurrence when i’m able to ‘read the room’. i thought they knew that but they decided to have a private staff meeting and they all agreed it was best to BAN ME from the server.

the thing is if i had been messaged, if i was let known that people were bitching about me calling myself r******d then i would have definitely complied. i can understand people feeling a bit weird when i make fun of myself using no-no words, and i’m definitely willing to stop saying a certain thing if it genuinely makes somebody feel uneasy. but nobody said anything about it to me. not a single word.

considering the server has gone to a snowflake kingdom since my exit, i’m not too upset about being kicked out. what i am upset about regards him knowing i wasn’t in a proper state to make any decisions. decisions including NSFW decisions that he hinted at for about 5 minutes before i stopped saying ‘ehhh i don’t know if i’m comfortable with this’ and he didn’t have to beg for coochie anymore. i’m honestly lucky because i can’t remember most of what he coaxed me to do, because if i think about it too much it gets traumatic and i start feeling nauseous.

Christina has been in the server just to tell me what new bullshit has been going on in the rules, and the ever-expanding list of things that you aren’t allowed to talk about in the server, we have a good chuckle at it. i got high again about a week ago, and told my friends the audacity of what music boy actually had done to me and we all agreed to go under a vpn and raid the server, because why not, its funny haha goofy joke. we were having the best time and i was about to piss myself laughing when one of my friends name-drops me and the whoooole gig is over. we get kicked out and Christina pretends to act like she had no clue what was going on, so she could stay in and screenshot this:

she didn’t know how badly that term in itself would send me down a long overdue psychotic episode because about a year or two ago, i was getting concerned that i might have anti-social personality disorder, the ‘proper’ term for a diagnosed psychopath. it ended up nonconclusive, so i don’t necessarily believe i have it, but for some reason him calling me that word really fucked me up. but here’s a pretty funny and cringy sequence of things he typed in to get his cult of teenagers to feel bad for him.

don’t go looking for this person, don’t go looking for the band, i’m just sharing my story because maybe somebody could benefit from my experience being told. i’m trying to jump over this long ass hurdle that’s kept me in one place for wayyy too long, i’m hoping that sharing this endeavor could help my psyche, and perhaps push me forward and lead me towards gathering up the courage i’m missing to finally study for and take the GED test, graduate, and put public school and it’s challenges behind me.

if you read this long and want to talk to me about it, by all means, ask questions, make jokes, ask for more goofy ass screenshots of how i’ve made fun of him, more drama queen music boy tales, because we have a handful, trust me.

i don’t expect anyone to read this or necessarily care about this, but if you’ve come this far, from the bottom of my heart, do not date a musician. and, of course, thank you for reading. but still, don’t date a musician. especially if it’s a man. mega especially x2 if you’ve only known them for less than a week.

add me on roblox i’m user xulue i’m a funny gal and im a pro gamer

stay safe out there, be kind, and for the love of God don’t bring your guitar to the voice channel <3

#xulue #tw: manipulation #tw: self harm #tw: drugs #tw: slurs #narcissist #npd #mental manipulation #mine #taken advantage of #autism #impaired judgement #my ex #discord #discord server #personal

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goodnessmarygrace · 4 years

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Hi, my name is Mary Grace and I’m new to Tumblr. I made this blog because nobody I know has Tumblr, so it feels like I can be more open about my struggles without drawing attention to myself. Anyways, here goes nothing. This is my story thus far. It’s a long one, so buckle up!

I was diagnosed with POTS last month after two increasingly difficult and perplexing years. You could think of me as being sorta athletic and very ambitious normally if you like. I’m a perfectionist and I have anxiety. I began really feeling and noticing the POTS symptoms about two years ago. For a year, I just always assumed I was out of shape or everybody felt the same way and I was just being a wimp. I was super tired all the time and would get very dizzy with standing up and running. I would get spotty vision and feel the familiar “hot ice” feeling you get when you might faint. These symptoms were not incredibly severe or anything, so I just always hid them so that people wouldn’t label me as “dramatic” or “lazy.” I played basketball, softball, ran track, did marching band, football cheer-leading, scholar bowl, FCA, and FCCLA at the time of the onset of symptoms. I always assumed that I was just stressed out or had a really bad cold and it was nothing to give a second thought about. If anything, hiding my symptoms made me feel like I was in control or tough.

Another thing you must know about me to understand my story is I am a Christian and Jesus plays a big part in my life each and every day. Come summer 2019, I was a helper/counselor at the 5th and 6th grade week at the local Church Camp. That’s when some things really clicked for me spiritually. I realized that my life had been fairly easy. I have a loving family, live in an awesome community, have been blessed with friends and talents all my life, and for the most part, I’d been healthy and hadn’t had to deal with many terrible things. Most of all, I’m free to live for and worship my LORD and Savior.

It’s a life that many crave and would give anything to have. But that week at Church Camp initiated a thought process in me. I realized I had never really depended on GOD because everything in my life had seemed so... easy I guess. I was incredibly thankful for my life, but there came a time when I realized that I didn’t really live by faith or trust or hope. I didn’t completely even understand what they mean! How can you live for GOD without knowing what it is like to completely trust Him with every aspect of your life? My life story was (yes, comfortable and safe) but also a bit empty. It was shallow where it could be deep. And after lots of prayer and some soul searching, I realized my story was shallow because I had hardly ever struggled. So then I began praying dangerously. I asked (or begged) GOD to break me if He had to.

And oh my, He sure answered that one. The symptoms got worse, but I didn’t think much of them considering I had quit (or retired (; ) from softball. (There’s a whole separate story to why I quit softball that I just can’t possibly fit in this post. It was a big developmental step in my life and something that I still am learning from.) I assumed I was just getting out of shape and I should exercise and live healthier. More water, more sleep, better food, etc. Running was getting harder and harder. I was always exhausted, which I blamed on stress and lack of good sleep. Basketball season is what really did it in for me. The first real “attack” or “episode” happened during conditioning week. I almost fainted. I got a migraine and was so dizzy that I couldn’t walk straight. My vision was seriously messed up and that “hot ice” feeling you get before passing out kept washing over me. (I had passed out/ almost passed out before this but always blamed it on being squeamish or something else unconcerning.) I eventually sucked up my pride and told my coach, “I gotta lie down!” It was humiliating. I used to be able to run like nobody’s business. I mean, some people were jealous of my exercising capabilities. It seemed like my fault since I had quit softball and seemingly was so out of shape that I almost passed out. I felt like a quitter. There was so much shame and guilt. I must have forgotten it was actually an answer to my prayers.

The season progressed and I repeatedly had to lie down when it came to conditioning and running. It didn’t help that I got mono for the second time in my life that winter (no, not from kissing) and was so stubborn that I refused to stay home or go to the doctor. I had mono, pharyngitis, and a double ear infection for months, but I didn’t want to rest because I thought people would think I was lazy. We began trying to figure out why I would get the POTS symptoms as well, because my mom started to think that something really was going on. In the end, we decided to blame it on blood sugar. I told people I was hypoglycemia. I brought juice to basketball practice, and when I would drink it, I would trick myself into thinking that I felt better because I was sick of having no idea what was going on.

Finally, when basketball season was wrapping up and track season was beginning, I began believing that maybe I wasn’t “just out of shape.” I had been running and exercising for months, but I still had my POTS symptoms. I was praying and trying really really hard to get past the shame and be grateful for my struggles. The thing is, I LOVE track (and was pretty good at it too.) Running and racing has always been, dare I say, fun for me. I was really looking forward to the first practice of the season. My dreams were crushed to say the least. After running the first 400 meters of a mile, I nearly fainted again. I finished the mile, but was not doing so hot. I remember all my teammates and coaches staring at me with worry and surprise. I was so embarrassed. The headache from it didn’t go away until I went to bed that night. What made things worse, was I still didn’t know what was wrong with me. Doctors said “blood sugar?”, “asthma?”, “hormones?”, “anxiety?”, “arrhythmia?”, “stress?”. When people asked, I didn’t have a definite answer, so just I listed all of my symptoms and the possible diagnoses. I got tired of that real quick.

Now that my track season was in jeopardy, I decided that we really needed to figure out what was happening to me. My mom said to take it easy at practice, but I didn’t want to look “lazy.” (You can tell that my mind runs in a useless circle around the concepts of weak and lazy.) I told my coaches that I needed to take it easy, but then just continued to go hard as I could. I mentally could not get past the mindset I had adopted. I didn’t want anyone to think I wasn’t trying and I was making things up, so without really noticing it, I told myself that it was in fact all in my head and I was weak. Then came the pandemic.

This is becoming way too long, so I’m going to continue it in a part 2. It sounds crazy, but I’m actually pretty thankful for the mess I’ve been through. More explanation later, but I know there is some growth happening in me that never would have begun if I hadn’t gotten these struggles. GOD has shown me so much through these experiences and He’s made room in my busy schedule for the things that actually matter in life. I don’t chase people’s opinions or expectations so much anymore and have learned to be kinder to myself. Again, this blog is kind of going to be like a way to figure some things out and hopefully become part of the community of people who’ve gone or are going through similar experiences. Maybe then I’ll even be able to help someone else in return.

-Mary Grace

June 4, 2020

#potsie #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #my story #jesus is the answer #christianity #a written testimony #break me #savedbygrace #POTS

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anoldfashionedlife · 4 years

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COVID-19: Sunday, April 12

Easter.

I read an article from the February issue of 1843 about headphone use in public spaces: "Headphones have destroyed our sense of common purpose,” the author writes. "A bedlam of babble in a handful of headphones.” Now, I read everything in the context of a global emergency: if we can’t be together together, how can we be alone together.

I run to Times Square. I leave my house and run my normal route to and across the Manhattan Bridge. I run a few blocks down Canal to Broadway, where I turn right and head north. Broadway will take me all the way to Times Square where it meets 7th Avenue and a whole mess of other things. It's an arterial avenue that cuts through the city from bottom to top.

I run through SoHo, which is empty. SoHo hasn’t been a “cool” neighborhood for a long time, but it’s still popular with tourists. It’s also the closest neighborhood when I need something from a big brand like CB2 or Uniqlo and don’t want to pay for shipping or wait a few days for it to arrive.

I pause at Houston because I’ve always paused at Houston. There’s little traffic so I could cross, but it seems safer to wait for the signal. “Look both ways before crossing, even when crossing a one-way street.” Advice given to incoming freshman at NYU—patronizing and comical, but useful because bikes and assholes don’t always follow the traffic rules.

I get the signal to cross, and I cross to the median where I pause once more. Out of habit I wait for any cars turning onto Houston, not paying attention to pedestrians, but there aren’t any. Everybody has different criteria for “when you become a New Yorker.” For me it was the first time I didn’t hesitate to yell at a driver turning into me as I crossed the street: “Fuck you! I’m crossing here!"

I didn’t live in New York on September 11th—I was a sophomore in high school in suburban Indiana—but I’d read accounts of New Yorkers in the days after who came out into the streets for no other reason than to be with other people, to commiserate and to mourn. Union Square was one place where they'd congregate, not only because it was a public space but because it was the largest and closest public space to the World Trade Center not cordoned off by the NYPD.

When I approach Union Square I slow down to keep my distance from others, mostly people coming out of the Whole Foods. I cross 14th Street into the park and most of the people there are homeless men, sitting on park benches with no place to go.

On the north side of Union Square I run past a bucket drummer, a nuisance in normal times but now a sort-of beacon in a sea of silence. I can hear him all the way past 19th Street three blocks away, and if there wasn’t a light breeze I could probably hear him for another few blocks.

Between 22nd and 23rd the sidewalk widens. There is plenty of space, but I run into the street to keep as much distance from others as I can. As I pass between two parked cars I lock eyes with an Asian woman who, behind a mask, looks at me as though she’s caught her pre-teen son out with friends instead of staying home to study for the PSAT: disappointment mixed with anger.

Continuing up Broadway I skirt between the Flatiron Building and Madison Square Park. Broadway between Flatiron and the ACE Hotel is an interesting mix of Yuppie District—sweetgreen, Milk Bar, Opening Ceremony—and the 28th Street Flower and Bargain Districts, but everything is closed. I run past a homeless man huddled next to an access ramp and think about white flight. In the 50s and 60s we fled to the suburbs. Today we've fled to our apartments.

I run through Herald Square and notice that the garbage cans outside Macy’s are empty. Garbage cans in Manhattan are never empty; they’re almost always overflowing with the detritus of petty consumerism: plastic Starbucks iced coffee cups, Chick-fil-A sauce, Hop-On Hop-Off bus maps.

I think about one of my favorite bars in the city, it’s nearby: Keens is one of New York’s oldest steakhouses, but if you’re not eating there—which I’ve only done twice—you can still order a drink at the bar, and they mix a good Manhattan.

I continue up Broadway and run past security personnel guarding empty office buildings and police officers patrolling empty public spaces. I make it to Times Square, and I think to myself: there are too many people here. There aren’t many people, but it still seems like too many.

I read the displays. Disney says: “Thank you to all the healthcare workers and first responders around the world / We are grateful for you.” T-Mobile says: “Please practice social distancing.” American Eagle says: “We are in this together. We are stronger together.” Clear Media says: “Not all superheroes wear capes.” Sephora says: “To all the healthcare, emergency, and social workers: \ You have our immense gratitude \ Thank you. \ We belong to something beautiful.” Green Giant says: “To all on the frontlines, you are the true giants.” Below the ball-drop is an impressive four-piece vertical public service display: “PL \ EA \ SE \ Practice \ social \ distancing \ & help \ save \ lives. \ cdc.gov/covid19 \ Prevent the spread of germs \ Please \ Stay \ Home \ When \ You \ Are \ Sick \ Prevent the spread of germs \ cdc.gov/covid19.” Amazon advertises a new album from The Strokes called The New Normal. #nystrong

What isn’t missing from Times Square is the guy who walks around carrying an “end is near” sign: “Because of sin Noah’s ark was built. No one believed him. Flood came—they perished. End is near. Judgement day is coming. Repent today. Confess Jesus as Lord and Savior. Only way to heaven.” That he isn't at whatever off-brand church he belongs to on Easter makes his message a bit less convincing.

I think about another one of my favorite bars in the city: Jimmy’s Corner, an old-school bar with boxing memorabilia covering the walls. You’d think in a place like Times Square it was actually owned by Yum! Brands or something, but you can find Jimmy there most nights.

I leave Times Square and run east on 42nd Street. Bryant Park is utterly empty. No homeless men, no vagabonds. Nobody except me and a park employee tending to the garbage cans, replacing one empty bag with another.

The emptiness isn’t surprising, but I should explain why. Since its inception the Bryant Park Corporation has been particularly aggressive in keeping out undesirables. First by removing park benches and adding metal tables and chairs. William H. Whyte, an urbanist in the 1970s, championed them as giving park users a semblance of agency in public space without actually providing it.

More importantly, removing park benches eliminated a surface on which homeless people could sleep. Over time, more and more features were added: upscale food for sale, movie nights on the lawn in the summer, a skating rink in the winter, Fashion Week. Sharon Zukin describes it as “pacification by cappuccino.”

Urban thinkers and advocates have been asking this question for years: Who’s city is this anyway?

I run a few blocks east to Grand Central. Once inside I don’t break pace as I run down the ramp towards the main concourse. For some reason this doesn’t strike me as unusual until I reach the main concourse. Shocked, I stop and take in the sight of an empty, cavernous space normally brimming with activity: commuters catching a train upstate if they don’t live in the city, the subway if they do; tourists careening their necks up to the ceiling painted with the constellations; me grabbing a drink at The Oyster Bar or Campbell’s Apartment, just because.

I’m lucky that my friends and family haven’t been infected by coronavirus; the hardest thing so far has been weeks of quarantine. I haven’t cried during this pandemic—I’m no “boys don’t cry” kind of boy, but doing so seems like an admission that things won’t resemble “normal” for quite some time. But standing here, taking in the sight of my city hollowing out like this, I tear up.

I turn around and run back home. I run down Madison Avenue to Madison Square Park. I turn left onto 23rd Street and then right onto Park Avenue South. Left onto 18th Street, right onto 3rd Avenue, left onto 12th Street, right onto 2nd Avenue. I cross Houston and take Forsyth to the Manhattan Bridge back to Brooklyn.

Back home I put a bottle of sparkling wine in the freezer, but it doesn’t fit because it’s full of frozen food, so I put it in my oversized ice bucket that once graced the tables and suites at the Waldorf Astoria. I bought it salvage a while back and don’t use it as often as I’d like: it fits two bottles comfortably, but one bottle looks silly, like a kid wearing his dad’s tuxedo jacket. I was hoping it’d be a fixture of backyard barbecues this summer, but that seems unlikely.

For dinner I make Ethiopian food. The doro wat turns out quite well, but the injera that’s been fermenting for a few days is an utter failure. I eat the stew with rice.

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hurtcomfortetc · 5 years

Note

I was thinking the apocalypse timeline, if that's okay! :) and omg thank you for sending me your fic, I'm so amped to read it!

Original Prompt - vaguely--

“since you’re looking for TUA prompts” how about Klaus with pneumonia? the others keep joking about how he needs to quite smoking and shit (and telling him to stop whining when he says he’s not good to go with them on some kind of wild adventure”

Okay, so this was a fun one to write! Hope this was in the realm of what you were looking for! :)

MONDAY(28 days sober)

Klauscan hear the distant sound of glass shattering and what might be abookshelf falling down. The sound surprises him, and he sits up soabruptly that he gives himself a head rush, and a splash of watersluices over onto the tile floor. He sits there, listening for yellsof anguish or gunfire. All he hears for the next minute is the faintcongestion in his breath.

“Vanya-it's okay – look we don't have to stop for today-”

Adoor slams.

Klausrelaxes.

Heslides his head back under water and goes back to wondering if thisis the normal congestion he's had on and off since his cocaine phasein 2012, or if he's just getting sick.

Thenhe starts craving cocaine again.

Hedebates, for the hundredth time maybe, if Sober Klaus still smokesweed.

“Klaus,you better not have fallen asleep in there!”

TUESDAY(29 days sober)

Klauscreaks open his eyes to a blinding light and a grating voice comingfrom the other side of his door. His eyes manage to come to a focuson his clock. 1:30. Klaus is faintly pleased. It's much easier tostay sober when you're unconscious for most of the day. And he's soclose to actually deserving that thirty day chip.

Thebanging doesn't stop.

“Klaus!It's your turn with Five and Vanya today – please get your ass downhere so he'll get off my ass?” Diego calls, and continues bangingon the door.

Fiveis relentless, Klaus muses. He proceeds to remain unmoving on hisbed.

“Yougonna keep moping in here forever?” Ben asks from somewhere in thecorning of the room.

Klauslets out a loud groan that he draws out for almost twenty seconds.Ben covers his ears after ten, but Klaus has to stop and let out ashort cough before he can make it to a grand finale. Gross.

“Seriously?”Ben asks. Klaus peels himself off his bed and does a quick smell testof his underarms.

“Shhhh-I need to focus on finding a clean shirt so I can go make sure Vanyadoesn't end up murdering my second least favorite brother,” Klaussays. His voice comes out rough. Ben, for his part, looks appeased.

WEDNESDAY(30 days sober)

It'sbeen a good day. He completed an entire arm wrestling match with atangible Ben (turns out that that in death Ben must have somehowdeveloped killer bicep muscles, but no one needs to know how thatparticular match ended) and, invigorated by his sobriety milestone,Klaus dragged himself out of bed before noon and made eggs foreveryone (they burned remarkably quickly, but Allison did eat a pieceof toast he buttered so overall a win).

Butnow it's almost dinner time, and all he can do is lay bonelessly onthe couch and listen to his siblings bicker over one of Luther's“mandatory debriefs.”

“Theday of the apocalypse is over, can't we all stop treating Vanya likea ticking time bomb?” Allison demands.

“Yousaw what she almost did to Diego a couple of days ago, we can't stopworking on this,” Luther fires back.

“Guys,I'm right here, can you just stop,” Vanya adds. There's an awkwardsilence.

“Istill don't know if the math is right, everyone. Look, the best guessis to keep trying at -”

Therest of the conversation is lost to Klaus, who feels something inhimself snap. He hastily lights a cigarette. His siblings cyclicalnonsense arguments give him a craving for nicotine that simply willnot be ignored. He takes a long drag and then feels something catchnauseatingly in the back of his throat. He sits up and coughs untilsomething slimy seems to dislodge.

Hegoes to try another inhale when he sees that everyone is looking athim. He thumps his chest for dramatic effect.

“Smokingkills, kids,” he announces, and waves a finger at his siblings,accosting. Diego rolls his eyes.

“Keepthat up and you're gonna get an iron lung before you're forty,”Diego says.

“Andwhat a thrill that would be,” Klaus retorts. The bickering carrieson after that, and he spends the rest of it tuning out his siblingsand attempting valiantly not to cough.

Hedrags his way out of the room during a longer pause. In the doorway,Allison grabs his arm and slaps something into his palm. It lookslike a bandaid, and Klaus' brain cannot produce what it is.

“Nicotinepatch. I thought you were cleaning up. It might help,” Allisonsays.

“I'llhave to change my shirt. This beige will clash hideously,” Klausreplies.

“Iordered Chinese for tonight– come down later?” Allison asks himas he continues out.

Hethrows a grateful wave behind him.

Hespends the rest of the night alternately chain smoking and hackinguntil his chest is sore.

THURSDAY(31 days sober)

Today,Klaus starts to wonder distantly if there is something wrong with hisimmune system. This cold just doesn't want to go away.

It'sa nice distraction, he supposes.

FRIDAY(32 days sober)

Klaushas just completed almost entirely turning over his room in order tofind the one sketch pad that he'd stashed away years ago. He used toget high and doodle bats and shit during his goth phase. “Get ahobby” was something they tell you a lot in rehab.

Ithelps that, honestly, Klaus has no energy to do anything but scribbleabsently today. The mere act of searching through his closet justleft him with a racing heart and feeling out of breath. It isactually nice, in a way. The lethargy makes it very easy to settleinto a blanket puddle on the floor with and feel content to scratchout nonsense pictures with a pencil.

Benisn't anywhere to be seen for some reason, and Klaus actually feelslonely.

Ashadow appears looming over him. He looks up to see Five leaning inhis doorway.

“Getup. We're going on a field trip,” Five announces.

“Pass,”Klaus groans.

“Notasking. What, you'd rather laze around here all day?”

Klausdraws his blanket closer around him by way of answer.

Fivegrits his teeth and looks away. His foot is honest-to-god tapping.

“Getup. We need your help. We're gonna let Vanya loose today, and we needall hands on deck,” Five finally explains. Klaus sits up and giveshim an incredulous look.

“DidVanya okay this?” He asks. Five looks at Klaus like he's a cat thathe's trying to coax out of a bush.

“Ofcourse.” Klaus wonders why he bothered asking, his answer trulydoesn't inspire confidence.

“Andhow do you expect me to be of any use?” Klaus asks. On any otherday, he would bask in any remote bit of confidence in his ability,but today the concept of standing up for more than a minute is makinghim dizzy.

“Iseem to recall that you can summon Ben's ghost from the dead, amongothers. Dead people are great collateral if something goes sideways,”Five says.

“Um,great idea, but here's the thing – I can't -ahem- get it up all thetime. Apparently it's more common among mediums than you might think– one in ten!” Klaus says, praying that Five will drop it. Fivelooks at him like he's contemplating murder.

“Look,do you want me to get Luther to come persuade you?” Five threatens.

Klausraises his hands in surrender.

“Uncle,uncle! Christ, let's just get this over with,” he sighs. On the wayout, he grabs his most obnoxious faux fur jacket, partially as a lamegesture of rebellion and partially because he's utterly freezing.

“That'sthe spirit,” Five mutters, and leads the way.

----------

Fiveglanced into the rearview mirror of the car. With Luther crammed intothe passenger seat the atmosphere already feels oppressive enough,but a glimpse into the backseat reveals Vanya nervously perched inthe middle seat, Diego sitting cross-armed and surly on the right,and Klaus completely passed out on the left. The car is packed andradiating nervous energy.

Five eases the car down the bumpy dirt path, the final sign that theyare clear away from civilization. That creep Leonard really had theright idea about a remote cabin in the woods. Plenty of isolation andtrees to practice on. So lacking in human contact is this particularcabin that the unkept foliage lining the path creeps towards theroad, untamed and leaning. The cabin itself is barely a thread awayfrom losing any structural integrity. The windows have maybe threeunbroken panes of glass between them. It's perfect.

Fivebrakes violently, and winces when Klaus' forehead makes a audiblewhack on the window as he smacks himself out of his nap. Not the mostgraceful awakening, but effective. He wants everyone alert.

“Alrighteverybody. Follow me,” he says. He steps out of the car and towardsthe back of the cabin, where he has prepared a paper target on a treeabout fifty feet from the small clearing. It's visible, but wellsurrounded by other trees.

“Diego,wanna demo?” Five asks. Diego furrows his brow, but never turns upan opportunity to throw something sharp. He takes one look at themark and pegs the center ring with a hasty flick of his wrist.

“Doyou expect me to do that? That's not exactly in my wheelhouse, Five,”says Vanya, squinting at the target and looking like she'd rather beanywhere than here.

Fivetakes a handful of loose bullets out of his pocket, and places themon a tree stump.

“Woah,”interjects Luther, “we're not expecting Vanya to have to shootpeople-”

“Ofcourse not,” Five grits out. He expected this, but it doesn't makeit any less tiresome. “This is just an exercise in precision andcontrol.” Vanya looks at him, wary, but she picks up one of thelittle silver ovals and turns it around in her fingertips.

---

Ittakes the better part of an hour before Vanya manages to drill a holedirectly into the target. It's a bit left of center, but by thatpoint, Diego and Luther have finally relaxed an inch of tension outof their shoulders. Vanya is a quick study, and actually pulls asmile when the little tap of the bullet making contact sounds throughthe forest.

Klaus,for his part, has been lounging like the Queen of Sheba on a softpile of pine needles. His eyes seem out of focus, but he claps whenVanya succeeds.

“Whooooo,you show that tree who's boss,” he calls. Vanya smiles again. Fivewonders if Klaus might have been more of a liability than anything,considering how spacey he seems for all his apparent sobriety, but ifanything it makes Vanya more relaxed when he yells out some stupidline of encouragement than if it had just been Tweedledee andTweedledum trading constipated looks and flinching every time a twigsnapped.

Fiveis contemplating dragging one more round out of Vanya when Klaus sitsup suddenly at attention.

“Woah,Vanya that's kind of creepy,” Klaus says, looking at something inthe distance. Five walks over to Klaus as he stands up, clearlyalarmed. There are goosebumps running down his arms.

“Whatare you talking about, Klaus?” Five asks, quietly. He doesn't wanta scene.

“Theway she's moving the branches of the trees like that. They're gettingall twisty. I mean it's tasteful but definitely a touch odd, wouldn'tyou say?” Five doesn't know why he looks over to see what Klaus istalking about, but he does. There isn't so much as a light breezerustling the branches.

Suddenly,Five realizes what must be going on and he's furious.

“Jesus,Klaus what are you playing at? Whatever you're tripping on is notworth risking this entire training session,” Five spits. Diegoperks up at that.

“Ithought you were going sober, man,” he says, looking at themsearchingly. Klaus, pale and sweating, does not look like thatbenchmark for clean living.

Klausdoesn't seem to notice, and continues looking at the forest, eyesfollowing something unseen.

“Unbelievable,”Five turns away, taking ten paces and breathing through his nose.

“Klaus,it's okay – I'm not doing anything,” Vanya says. She walkshesitantly towards Klaus, eyes wide and sympathetic.

“Leaveit, Vanya,” Luther cautions. Vanya reaches out a hand on Klaus'sforearm, to try to get his attention. Klaus clears his throatthickly, and coughs a bit into his fist.

“Don'tworry, Vanya- I like it, very pretty,” he says. Vanya's eyes widen.

“Guys,his skin's on fire,” she says. “Klaus, are you okay?” Shereaches a hand up his cheek, which is also burning. He doesn'tanswer, just shivers convulsively.

“Couldit be an overdose?” Luther strides over to them. Diego stiffens.

“Doesn'tseem like it to me,” Diego says. “Doesn't present the way itusually does with whatever garbage he's on.” Five's mind feelsblank.

“I'llstart the car. We have to get him out of here,” he says.

“Ithink he's just sick,” Vanya says. “He's been sounding reallyrough all week, hasn't he?”

“Shit,”says Diego. He moves to pull gently at Klaus' arm to lead him to thecar. Five takes the lead and starts for the front of the cabin.

“Wow,you can make the ground all spinny. That's a cool trick,” Klaustells Vanya. At that, Diego loops one of Klaus's arms around hisshoulder, and they start to haltingly follow after Five.

“Let'sgo, Klaus,” he says. As they make a shaky path towards the car,Five throws the passenger door open for them to slide in. They do,and it's now imminently obvious just how out of it Klaus is. Hemanages to maneuver into the passenger seat shakily, and immediatelyburies his head in his hands.

Fivewastes no time turning on the ignition and sloppily reversing thecar. He narrowly avoids bottoming out in a muddy patch. The car digsout and he slams on the acceleration as quickly as the dirt path willallow.

“Doesanyone have any water or anything?” Luther asks, and Five isdecently impressed that it's actually not a bad idea. There isrustling from the backseat as they all turn over the car searchingfor any provisions that will last them the entire ride back towardscivilization.

“Here,”Vanya finds a water bottle strewn somewhere beneath the seatcushions.

“That'sfor you,” Diego passes it to Klaus, who removes one eye from behindhis hand to look at it like it's a bomb. “I swear to god, Klaus,just take it,” Diego warns. Klaus extends a shaking hand andaccepts it. He takes a tentative sip, and then grimaces. That setshim off, coughing deeply. For each second he continues seeminglyhacking up a lung, Five's foot presses deeper into the acceleration.When he finally stops, Five meets eyes with Diego in the rearviewmirror. Diego looks panicked, and that's not a look Five is used toseeing.

“Jesus,Klaus, where's that stupid ass coat of yours?” Diego asks. “You'reshaking like a leaf.”

“Igrabbed it,” says Vanya.

“Wait-maybe we should try to keep him cool? Right?” Luther interjects.

“Idon't know- do I look like I went to fucking medical school?” Diegoasks, shooting a murderous look at Luther.

“Damn,how long has he been like this sick?” Luther asks no one inparticular.

“Ugh,right here,” Klaus says, breathlessly. “You should ask Ben, he'dknow.”

Diegothrows up his hands.

“Helpful!”

Suddenly,the car lights up a bright blue and Ben appears crammed betweenLuther and Five, crouched awkwardly on the dashboard.

Five,thrown for a loop, swerves the wheel and almost careens off the road.

“Woah-Five, get it together!” Luther calls. Ben grabs the wheel and pullsthem back on into their lane just in time to avoid hitting a tree.

“Nice,thanks,” Five breaths.

“Ben,”Luther said, dumbstruck.

“Toanswer your question, he's been out of it for a couple of days. Ithink that's why he couldn't see me anymore,” Ben says. Lutherseems unable to process the information, his mouth still gaping open.Ben rolls his eyes.

“I'mjust saying, please can you find some kind of medical professional?Like, ASAP?”

“Nooooo,”Klaus murmers through his hands.

“Klaus,”say Five, Luther and Diego almost simultaneously, all in some variouscombination of desperate frustration and warning.

Vanyareaches over and put a hand on his knee.

“Ithink what they mean is that it's not a debate. You're going to see adoctor.”

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spacegayparty · 5 years

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I made another thing but it is Logince (the first time I write this shit.. ever?)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908254/chapters/44884582 It was inspired by a song from the musical ‘‘Rent’‘, called ‘‘Take me or leave me’‘ and has three chapters (and I have got the last one halfway done already!)

Logan narrowed his eyes as he saw Roman offer the barkeeper a hand, the two already lightheartedly joking as the latter handed him a drink and spilled a bit. The nerd bit down onto his bottom lip, the bruised skin throbbing and turning from a faint pink into a more prominent and darker shade.

He has had enough of the charmer he was dating, of him making his blood boil and palms sweat. It felt as if his heart was the only thing racing in this relationship and it seemed driven by the fear of being replaced, of not being good enough for the confident and painfully flirtatious actor. Without realising that he had already stepped forward to the two handsome man who were having too much of a good time with their charismatic chuckles and light touches. Those touches were coming from Roman and Logan had a difficult time acknowledging it once more. The thespian would never be satisfied with him only, would he?Slam!Logan's slender, pale arm, covered in a navy blue sleeve of his button up dress shirt slid over to Roman's hand that held the drink eagerly. He gripped his wrist and pulled him closer.''What do you think you are doing'', he hissed.He could not bring himself to have more patience. It was not the first time. It had been various occasions before and this time it was just the top of it all. If Roman was good at one thing, then it was melodrama and topping himself again and again.

Logan did not know how he was still surprised but it left a deep cleft within him and it felt as if Roman's flirtatious eyes glancing at yet another person just bore daggers through his heart and it squeezed him in anguish.Logan wrapped his slender fingers over Roman's warm wrist. Even their skin tones were so different. Roman was tanned, seemed bronze and their body temperature contrasted like a sudden clash. It was an icy force shocking through Roman's veins as the abandoned finger pads tapped onto the inside of his wrist and made him shift his attention. The source of pure charisma seemed oblivious as always and simply downplayed the whole incident, making Logan swallow down his emotions. A jingly laugh rattled the jealous pit in his stomach and he felt a sudden wave of nausea and bile biting into him as the warm green of his now-husband's curious orbs dove into the distraught storm of his steel blue orbs.They were not valid. There was no reason, no cause and no justification for him to feel like this, to be this jealous and demanding, right?But damn, this was their wedding! Could he not be a little more decent and maybe flirt with him instead? Would he ever be happy with Logan only or was the latter damned to be the second in place, the warm, safe spot in bed that Roman would be happily accepted back in no matter the escapades previously.Roman's lips twitched from a playful smirk into a slight scowl. It felt as if the sunshine was blocked by a rainy cloud that demanded to dominate the weather now instead and started darkening the sky by covering the sun and isolating it for itself.Logan wanted to go back, wanted to have a dance with his handsome man on supposedly their most fanciful and happy day in their lives but instead, he was standing in front of Roman whose mood seemed to sour as he put down his drink, his white button-up wrinkling up like his nose as if curling in disgust.

But he was trapped in this situation and he was sick of swallowing down his feelings, letting the other trample on his freedom and his expression because he did not take him serious. Logan deserved as much.He returned the scowl and pushed the hand away, out of reach of the barkeeper and the man got the hint, quickly inching away.''Can't you keep it to a limit, once? Just show me some decency on our wedding day. This ceremony and venue is so fanciful for your sake and you cannot even appreciate it for a few minutes? We got wedded minutes ago, Roman!''The thespian sighed and freed his wrist with a sudden jerk of his hand and he pushed himself from the counter he was leaning against during his conversation. His casual and comfortable posture changed as he straightened and his shoulders seemed to bulk up. Logan could not have cared less as the burning fire in his pit did away with the gutting tug within him and the roaring nausea. He just wanted to have peace and not be betrayed in his deepest trust that he foolishly put into someone who did not appreciate it, did not appreciate him.Roman stepped away and cleared his throat as the calm curiosity in his eyes compiled into a fierce fury of defiance. The green seemed to swirl into a compromised forest green''Every single day, I walk down the street I hear people say "Baby," so sweet

Ever since puberty everybody stares at me! Boys, girls, I can't help it, baby!''The wholesome, engulfing voice of Roman's singing caught Logan and seemed to steal his breath once more. It felt as if these sounds rendered him defenseless as he suddenly felt all his anger vanish. His body seemed empty and the sweet temptation of giving in, forgiving him, swayed him and made him go weak in his knees.

But he refused.As Roman inched closer, attempting to engulf him in a hug with his apologetic yes shallow arms, he backed away and let the thespian grab the air as he turned on his heel to face his prey. Feisty as always.''So be kind, and don't lose your mind: just remember that I'm your baby!''Logan shook his head, clenching his fist as the last sentence, the last word in particular drove his rage back, this time more like him and his character. It was calculated and calm, it was direct and queerforward just as he believed his character to be.''Take me for what I am''. he demanded and Roman started moving around him, twirling lazily around him as he circled the nerd. The red vest hugged his torso as his body danced around the room as if he tried to distract Logan from the issue by showing off his body and qualities. He was a win for Logan.''Take me for what I am'', he purred as he lifted Logan's chin despite Roman being about an inch smaller than his usually stoic and composed husband. He graced the pale and cool skin of his face as he stroke the chin with his caramel fingers, movements smoother than pooling honey as the words dripped from his lips like the sweetness that wanted to convince Logan, coax him into moving along to Roman's pace.''Who I was meant to be~ And if you give a damn, take me baby, or leave me''Logan's eyes widened, the calm steel suddenly filled with a darkening realisation as Roman sang the part into his face. Was it just him or did the room suddenly become cold and frozen? He stepped from his husband's poisonous temptation once more, fighting how much his body seemed to want him, ''A tiger in a cage can never see the sun- This diva needs her stage baby, let's have fun!

You are the one I choose. Folks would kill to fill your shoes. You love the lime light too now, baby. So be mine and don't waste my time, cryin' "Oh honey bear are you still my, my, my baby?" ''Roman jumped onto the stage, grabbing a microphone as he started singing. The wedding guests started looking around in confusion, some staring at Logan for an explanation. His family stared at him and he could feel the dreading look in Patton's concerned eyes that were just as blue as his but in such a different way.The nerd adjusted his glasses.This game could be played by two and he was done with Roman putting on solo shows, no matter how nice his affection was. It was time to really stand up to him and not back down with a compromise this time. For the sake of himself, the lawyer needed to be just as professional and persistent as he tended to be in court.This was his turn now and he would write the rules.He grabbed a headset from the band and joined his husband on the stage. Maybe this would be their last performance together but that did not count now, it did not matter because right now, Logan was fighting for himself and his validity that he had struggled with all along. As Patton and Emile had taught him, it was important to put himself first and recognise his emotions as justified and important. He would finally stop backing down on this subject and instead insist.''No way, can I be what I'm not. But hey, don't you want your man hot? Oh, don't fight, don't loose your head 'cause every night who's in your bed?'That was it.Logan clicked his headset's microphone to ''on'' and stepped to Roman's field of sight who had previously focused on the audience rather than his own husband he wanted to address in the first place. Was he even talking to him?

Roman's usual grin of self-assurance and superiority tried hard to convince the others of the feelings he was supposed to feel to match his words but Logan was having none of it and he started his part of the discourse.''It won't work. I look before I leap, I love margins and discipline.

I make list in my sleep, baby~ What's my sin?''It was his turn to lean and he made sure to actually reach out to the other as he sung and took Roman's hands. He let their fingers intertwine and the soft smile of Roman returned, taking over his lips and softening the narrow persistence on his face. Logan moved in, leaning down and dipping the other as he arched his back with perfect precision as if he had measured and exercised this very move for years just to perform it in this context.

He saw a pink dust cover Roman's cheeks, the tanned skin turning a traitorous rosè shade as Logan held him close. Maybe the thespian should value him more, should make amends and actually be grateful for being capable of actually impressing a solemn and stoic mystery such as Logan.

It was a fleeting thought but it held on long enough for Roman to admit that he was more serious about their relationship than it seemed.''Never quit, I follow through'', Logan continued and suddenly Roman was back to his feet but in his mind, he was still swept off by the mesmerising blue storm in his husband's eyes, by the mix of gentleness and fierceness in these bold yet graceful movement. A twirl made him rotate around his own axis like the earth he was and he ended up catching his movements by arranging his feet in a stable position on the ground. He had arrived at the end of Logan's slender arms, their fingers intertwined still but it was the only connection their shared.''I hate mess but I love you. What do with my impromptu baby?''Logan's voice resonated within him and something stirred in him, a familiar but at the same time all too dreaded feeling bubbled up inside of him and as much as he wanted to be back against Logan's chest, he also wanted to run from him, run for his life and pride because this was all he had.''So be wise, 'cause this man satisfies'', Logan continued and Roman needed to face that he was still struck in his state of breathlessness after the dance and the sudden bold words. The refreshing change seemed to revitalise his attraction to the usually composed man whose grip was all to keep him in the dream-like state of their .. argument? Right, they were still arguing, somehow. ''You've got a prize so don't compromise: You're one lucky baby''Roman nodded carefully, his voice stuck in his voice and his realisation clawing at the back of his throat as every word of explanation died on his tongue and left the bitter after taste of knowing that he had messed up big time and he started understanding why.Logan's fingers slipped from him and the nerd stepped back once more, increasing their distance and it felt like a slap to his handsome face as reality pulled him from his thought. His lips were slightly parted but Logan had been more than right with his assumption and this sight was the desired empirical evidence the slender man enjoyed so much.''Take me for what I am'', Logan demanded, the singing sound of his voice fading as his words slipped into Roman's blood stream like a deafening numbness that spread within him. It felt like pure anaesthetics and the tingling excitement of Logan's confidence and his own adoration of it betrayed him.The prince owed his husband a decision. It was cowardice or courage, fight or flight. It was all he had avoided before.He regained his composure and straightened his back as he locked their eyes together, his green eyes shining in sincerity. A sudden emotion flashed over him like a quick lightening and it brought Logan's attention to him as he twisted the ends of his lips into a weak smile before falling back into a helpless expression.It was now or never. How would he decide?

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dailyaudiobible · 5 years

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10/12/2019 DAB Transcript

Jeremiah 19:1-21:14, 1 Thessalonians 5:4-28, Psalms 82:1-8, Proverbs 25:9-10

Today is the 12th day of October. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and it is a joy and a pleasure to be here with you today as we bring ourselves to the conclusion of another week. And they just don't stop, do they? They just keep going by and that's how…that’s how life gets added up. We tell the story through our days and weeks and months. And, so, here we are at the end of another week, but not at the end of the Bible and certainly not at the end of the…of the books that we’re reading right now which are Jeremiah and Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians. Although we’re going to conclude that letter in today's reading. So, let's dive. We’re reading from the New International Version this week. Jeremiah chapter 19, 20 and 21 today.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word and we thank You for another week in Your word. It is a constant thing that…that we thank You for these things because we’re thankful for them, but because You keep bringing us through them. And we mark the time, but we also mark the transformation and the change that You are that You are making inside of us. We look back over the past months and we see that You are transforming us in ways that we wouldn't be able to easily put into words. You’re shifting our thoughts and deeds. You’re shifting our motivations and Your shifting our understanding and we are growing. And, so, come Holy Spirit and help us to continue to grow in the faith that is set before us as we continue this journey through the Scriptures. And we pray these things in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website and that is always…has always been and I don’t know if it will always be…who knows…what technologies are out in front of us, but it is a home base right now. It’s where you find out what’s was going on around here. So, stay connected in any way that you can.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible in the mission that we share in common to bring the spoken word of God read fresh every day and to build community around that rhythm of life, if that's you, then thank you for your partnership and allowing this to keep going every single day. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial or you can just press the Hotline button at the top of the app and off you go.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi Daily Audio Bible family this is Liz the soccer mom from Toronto. Today is October the 8th and I just finished listening to the October 7th podcast. And it’s really fascinating how God manages to kind of really poke you some days because I didn’t realize until I heard Carl’s prayer again that I had actually listened to the whole podcast yesterday. So, there’s two things. One was that the message itself that we were…was being shared with us yesterday was the idea of eating out of two bowls and how we can kind of do both and it was a real reminder to me. God really sort of revealed that yeah, I’ve been eating out of both bowls and I’ve been crying out to Him for some answers to some things and couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t getting the answers. And, you know, there it was. It’s like you were eating out of two bowls. And I’ve been asking for like show me a way to kinda like start from fresh and here it was. You’ve been eating out of two bowls. And I didn’t hear yesterday. I listened to the whole podcast and I was reminded again that I have just been too busy to feed myself properly and I’ve been getting sick. And we can talk about that in terms of the physical and also the spiritual and it was a really strong reminder to me. So, thank you Lord for Your messages that Brian is able to get through to us and thank You Lord for getting through us. So, shout out to Carl. You are not forgotten. We love you. Take everybody. Bye.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family this is Jeanette calling from Canada and I have a praise report and I thank you for all those who have been praying for me, especially that gentleman who prayed for my daughter and I. Well, unexpectedly my daughter has a job and it’s not even the way I thought it was gonna be. She has been volunteering in her given profession at this…at this facility and the person who’s in charge is often sickly and they have hired my daughter for three days per week on a temporary…in a temporary position until this person returns. But it is…God is so amazing because this wasn’t at all what I expected. I knew she would get a job but it’s just like a couple days after we all prayed. And I am so grateful and so grateful for all of you. And, so, I lift up all the people that are praying today. I think of the lady who has infertility. You know, I am praying for you because we have experienced that with family members. And, so, God is good, and God is gracious. And I’m praying that He will hear You, He will answer, and you will have the children that He wants you to have. In the meantime, hang in there. God is with you. Thank you all. Have a blessed, blessed day in Jesus’ name.

Hey everyone, this is Jay calling from Nashville. I’m calling for call. Carl man I’ve been in your shoes. No job, not knowing when, where, how, whatever was going to happen, but I want you to know brother, God is our father and He does know what we want but just like a child will tug on their father’s pant leg until they get their attention over and over and over again until that father finally breaks his concentration on whatever else it is he’s focusing on and looks down to his child and says, “what is it that I can do for you?” That is how we must go to God. At one point in my life I was without a job and I was living in my car just like you. And I began to pray and nothing and nothing would happen. And six months went by, a year went by. Nothing happened. And finally, after I realized that there was some growth that was happening in my life a job popped up out of nowhere and that job turned into the position that I have today. So, I’m gonna pray for you brother. Almighty God we thank You so much for your grace and Your mercy. Father we call upon You now in the precious name of Your son Jesus Christ to show Yourself to our brother Carl. He’s feeling forgotten, he’s feeling as if there is no other option. He’s feeling abandoned. Lord, please remind him, please show him, please bring him close to Your heart and reveal to him Your will for his life and please God provide a job and money so that this man can meet his needs and…

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family this is Lori and Texas this is my first time to call in. I just heard from John the prodigal asking for prayers for Jake, his son who has given up and feels as if he fails at everything. And I would like to say a prayer for Jake. I have been through similar things with my son and I would like for him to know that there is light at the end of the tunnel and that light is Jesus Christ. So, heavenly Father I would just lift John and Jacob to You, and I would pray that You would lift up Jake’s head and that You would let him find your hope again. Give John the strength as he prays for his son to pray without ceasing, to never give up, to always hold onto Your promises, to know that You have plans for us and they’re good plans and they’re perfect plans and they’re good. So, Father just, I’m asking You to give hope and life and encouragement to these two men and also to the whole community of believers as they…as they login and listen. And thank you so much Brian and Jill for bringing us all this blessing. Goodbye.

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something-in-the-seas · 5 years

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Thanksgiving 2.0

Thanksgiving 1970 is so wild, y’all. @frangstfontaine I don’t even know if you celebrate Thanksgiving but I know you love dysfunctional bullshit.

- Jack makes a nice Thanksgiving dinner for everybody. After getting the family sick a few years before and nearly burning the house down, he’s so proud of himself. He spent all day working on that turkey and it’s beautiful. Just the perfect coloring and texture.

- He decides to invite everybody else over, you know, because it will be fun to have everyone together and celebrate the holiday together.

- It’s already doomed to fail because Booker gets drunk before dinner, Ryan is miserable and hates this holiday with a passion, and Stanley is there. There is a storm brewing.

- It starts when Jack asks what everybody is thankful for and Ryan tells him that he hates this holiday, it’s for parasites, and he is not grateful for anything or anyone because all he wanted was the sweet embrace of death. Booker tells him to shut the fuck up, which starts an argument.

- Stanley, who is even more tipsy, confesses his love for Johnny, which starts a fight with him, Johnny, and Sinclair. Grace then joins in after Sinclair says they all should be grateful he and Johnny decided to save them.

- Tenenbaum and Porter eat in silence until Porter is like “I’m really grateful to be happy and alive and after some people decided to falsely incarcerate me and subject me to human experimentation.” The girls soon join in edging the adults on, besides Eleanor, who’s ready to strangle Stanley after he tells her she should be thankful he sold her.

- Jack, Johnny, and Liz try to break it up, but eventually Liz is like “can you guys just take this outside, please.”

- Masha is like “I’d be much more thankful if my parents were alive, but technically you killed them so...” and that’s when the turkey legs come out. Ryan and Booker both struggle to rip the legs off but when they do all bets are off. Just beating each other with it and it devolves into a food fight between everyone.

- Ziggy, being a toddler, is thrilled to be taking part in a food fight and wastes no time hurling mashed potatoes at everyone. Janice and her fiancé try to tell him throwing food isn’t nice until they get hit with a piece of turkey. Ziggy must avenge his mama. Ten-month-old Mitzi happily eats her green beans while everything goes to hell.

- Rosie really wanted a leg, so she’s pissed and rips off a wing to join in the brawl. Jack and Johnny are desperate to break it up. Tenenbaum still sits in silence, dead inside. Liz stares at the bottle of vodka on the counter and is tempted to just chug it all.

- Stanley chucks gravy at Eleanor but she dodges and it hits baby Mitzi instead. They all stop and stare at her, frozen in place as she's completely drenched and got that little baby pout going on as she tries not to cry for a whole minute before Sinclair scoops her up. It takes ten minutes to get her to stop crying, but she’s so sad for the rest of the night. Just snuggled up with Sinclair while they watch Christmas specials and he gives her a half a cookie, but she’s still doing that pout while she eats it. It’s a great first Thanksgiving for her.

- Stanley’s now the bad guy and both Booker and Ryan turn on him to call him an idiot. Booker then passes out, his turkey leg still in hand before Rosie grabs it. Jack is making the same face as Mitzi because his Thanksgiving is ruined and he wanted to have a normal Thanksgiving like normal people for once. Mark stops by to drop off leftovers, sees the destruction, and turns around and leaves.

#aftershock #bioshock #bioshock 2 #bioshock infinite #booker dewitt #jack wynand #jack ryan #elizabeth comstock #stanley poole #rosie ryan #augustus sinclair #johnny topside #grace holloway #eleanor lamb #mitzi belle #ziggy ryan #brigid tenenbaum #charles milton porter

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resetkid · 6 years

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THIS IS RESETKID’S FIRST FOLLOW FOREVER. JUST A BIG POST TO BABBLE ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE MY FOLLOWERS AND HOW GRATEFUL I AM.

ART CRED .

I can’t believe I’ve been writing this dumb kid for two goddamn years now.

... Truth to be told I never thought my muse for Flurry would stick when I first came into this fandom. Nothing I do tends to stick--- I’m usually bored within a week or two and moving onto something else. But writing this brat and bringing her to life , portraying her the best I could just drew me in and at this point I’m in way too deep to leave.

She’s gone through so many changes--- from the sweet little pacifist I initially wrote , to the arrogant monster murdering brat in this blog’s first revamp , to... just a tired fierce little girl who’s done her best and is continuing to do her best now that she’s home again. I’m really proud of her! And I’m happy that I can write her to this day because she’s always been so fun and passionate and quick witted.

My partners here have all played a massive , massive role in making my time here fun. Everybody is so sweet and talented and understanding--- and they’ve helped me to improve along the way and made me feel like I really belong here. It wouldn’t be any fun without you guys! You’ve all helped me develop her character so much and put up with my caps lock mashing , emoticon heavy excitable chat out of character. You all write these great muses and we have these amazing interactions and relationships and cherish so much.

I’m super grateful and so... this post it to thank you all. Smooch---!

SPECIAL MENTIONS //

@im-sans-ational --- Aaaahhh. To be honest I tell you this softie stuff all the time and I bet you’re totally sick of hearing it! But here we are again ‘cause I could never leave you out of this. Um. Socks--- I care about you so much and being friends with you makes me so happy. Every time we talk I’m smiling and laughing and if things aren’t going great that day you always cheer me up a lot.

Part of the reason I’ve even stuck around in this fandom so long is owed to you because you’ve been such a sweet friend to me since I came and you’ve interacted with my brat girl from day one.

Your portrayal of Sans is absolutely great even though I know you doubt yourself a lot and often think otherwise. You’re think wrong when you think like that. All the thought that you put into his characterization and your ability to pull off both his serious and more jokey mannerisms seamlessly --- flawlessly --- awed me when I joined and you awe me to this day. He’s wonderfully in character and mysterious and just--- ugh. He is brilliant. And so are you! Thank you thank you thank you for being my friend and writing partner. ❤

@tibiahoncst / @casrouge / @herpsydaisy / @bottlemotions --- Latin! My love... my life... pffft. We’ve wrote and off since blindedbylv and our interactions never fail to bring the biggest smile to my face. Flurry and Squish have the most dynamic father-daughter relationship and I love them so much. My God.

They’re sweet and he’s patient and Flurry adores him more than I’ll ever be able to express with words in our threads. Nob is the purest child and the way you write both muses is gripping and thoughtful. I hope we write them for a long time because you are talented and lovely out of character and a wonderful friend. Not gonna lie , I rush to reply to our every thread because I cherish them all so much akjsladks!! Snugs,, :’3

@onehpwonder / @felllan / @scythism / @acrisolum / @skeledunce --- Danny Danny Danny!! I love you and all one hundred of your stinky sons. For real though; your layout and presentation is beautiful , you’re so positive and one of the sweetest mutuals to grace my dash , and easy to talk to out of character. The way you write and portray every muse is so sleek and everything reads so well...

I’m always going back to reread our interactions because they’re so fun and your replies are honestly breathtaking. Acri trying to cut Flurry’s head off and subsequently adopting her still makes me giggle --- her and Impact’s relationship is fascinating. Writing with you is a joy and I want us to continue being partners for a long , long time. Smooochh!!

@kurotsunolivia / @starberrykinder --- Ahhh?! Okay. I don’t even know where to start--- writing with you is the best. Kuro’s relationship with Flurry is one of my favorites I’ve ever developed on this blog. Though I don’t know much about her source material I really do think you put a lot of thought into her character and your headcanons for her.

The way you can portray her being brutally honest and tender towards her daughter in the same breath so well is staggering. Every thread we’ve had has been amazing and you’re so talented that I’m honestly flattered you wanted to write with me and interact with my dumb li’l brat of a muse in the first place! Your art is adorable , gushing about them ( and your super cute cat omg ) out of character is a joy and you’re a super cool mutual.

TALENTED MUTUALS ( TM ) //

@cartoonlonk / @revengefulhcart / @tazmily-farm-boy / @fcllenflowers / @pollenprince / @deadly-devotion / @fadedribbcn / @balefulblossom / @rivenstraws / @revivescere-flore / @universalcarnival / @existence-overwhelming / @stickid / @sparemercy / @matxrna / @remorseguarder / @smellslikejustice / @theirmercy / @talariis / @asktheseventhhuman / @dctcrmination / @pacifrisk-rp / @redemptnot / @sheundying / @dcbascd / @crascd / @masterprotector / @fellrot / @chosemercy / @mulcibere / @unmercyd / @kidfell / @madestars / @rollingsnowsmasher / @itsnojida / @flcwerpcwered

#long post //#i'm so sorry if i forgot anyone!!#i double checked but my memory is the actual Worst #but thank you so much omg.#i love everyone still following me and interacting with flurry #and i'm so happy i'm still here writing her.#;w;#you all made it possible for me to develop her and form all these relationships...#dfksjfddskg..#smooches u all

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christiancomputerstudent · 6 years

Link

this is a cool article about, Christians needing to be more like Jesus, when did Christianity become far from being like Jesus, Jesus is our Role model and we should be more like him

The Article can be found at https://www.esquire.com/news-politics/a6646/shane-claiborne-1209/

To all my nonbelieving, sort-of-believing, and used-to-be-believing friends: I feel like I should begin with a confession. I am sorry that so often the biggest obstacle to God has been Christians. Christians who have had so much to say with our mouths and so little to show with our lives. I am sorry that so often we have forgotten the Christ of our Christianity.

Forgive us. Forgive us for the embarrassing things we have done in the name of God.

The other night I headed into downtown Philly for a stroll with some friends from out of town. We walked down to Penn's Landing along the river, where there are street performers, artists, musicians. We passed a great magician who did some pretty sweet tricks like pour change out of his iPhone, and then there was a preacher. He wasn't quite as captivating as the magician. He stood on a box, yelling into a microphone, and beside him was a coffin with a fake dead body inside. He talked about how we are all going to die and go to hell if we don't know Jesus.

Some folks snickered. Some told him to shut the hell up. A couple of teenagers tried to steal the dead body in the coffin. All I could do was think to myself, I want to jump up on a box beside him and yell at the top of my lungs, "God is not a monster." Maybe next time I will.

The more I have read the Bible and studied the life of Jesus, the more I have become convinced that Christianity spreads best not through force but through fascination. But over the past few decades our Christianity, at least here in the United States, has become less and less fascinating. We have given the atheists less and less to disbelieve. And the sort of Christianity many of us have seen on TV and heard on the radio looks less and less like Jesus.

At one point Gandhi was asked if he was a Christian, and he said, essentially, "I sure love Jesus, but the Christians seem so unlike their Christ." A recent study showed that the top three perceptions of Christians in the U. S. among young non-Christians are that Christians are 1) antigay, 2) judgmental, and 3) hypocritical. So what we have here is a bit of an image crisis, and much of that reputation is well deserved. That's the ugly stuff. And that's why I begin by saying that I'm sorry.

Now for the good news.

I want to invite you to consider that maybe the televangelists and street preachers are wrong — and that God really is love. Maybe the fruits of the Spirit really are beautiful things like peace, patience, kindness, joy, love, goodness, and not the ugly things that have come to characterize religion, or politics, for that matter. (If there is anything I have learned from liberals and conservatives, it's that you can have great answers and still be mean... and that just as important as being right is being nice.)

The Bible that I read says that God did not send Jesus to condemn the world but to save it... it was because "God so loved the world." That is the God I know, and I long for others to know. I did not choose to devote my life to Jesus because I was scared to death of hell or because I wanted crowns in heaven... but because he is good. For those of you who are on a sincere spiritual journey, I hope that you do not reject Christ because of Christians. We have always been a messed-up bunch, and somehow God has survived the embarrassing things we do in His name. At the core of our "Gospel" is the message that Jesus came "not [for] the healthy... but the sick." And if you choose Jesus, may it not be simply because of a fear of hell or hope for mansions in heaven.

Don't get me wrong, I still believe in the afterlife, but too often all the church has done is promise the world that there is life after death and use it as a ticket to ignore the hells around us. I am convinced that the Christian Gospel has as much to do with this life as the next, and that the message of that Gospel is not just about going up when we die but about bringing God's Kingdom down. It was Jesus who taught us to pray that God's will be done "on earth as it is in heaven." On earth.

One of Jesus' most scandalous stories is the story of the Good Samaritan. As sentimental as we may have made it, the original story was about a man who gets beat up and left on the side of the road. A priest passes by. A Levite, the quintessential religious guy, also passes by on the other side (perhaps late for a meeting at church). And then comes the Samaritan... you can almost imagine a snicker in the Jewish crowd. Jews did not talk to Samaritans, or even walk through Samaria. But the Samaritan stops and takes care of the guy in the ditch and is lifted up as the hero of the story. I'm sure some of the listeners were ticked. According to the religious elite, Samaritans did not keep the right rules, and they did not have sound doctrine... but Jesus shows that true faith has to work itself out in a way that is Good News to the most bruised and broken person lying in the ditch.

It is so simple, but the pious forget this lesson constantly. God may indeed be evident in a priest, but God is just as likely to be at work through a Samaritan or a prostitute. In fact the Scripture is brimful of God using folks like a lying prostitute named Rahab, an adulterous king named David... at one point God even speaks to a guy named Balaam through his donkey. Some say God spoke to Balaam through his ass and has been speaking through asses ever since. So if God should choose to use us, then we should be grateful but not think too highly of ourselves. And if upon meeting someone we think God could never use, we should think again.

After all, Jesus says to the religious elite who looked down on everybody else: "The tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the Kingdom ahead of you." And we wonder what got him killed?

I have a friend in the UK who talks about "dirty theology" — that we have a God who is always using dirt to bring life and healing and redemption, a God who shows up in the most unlikely and scandalous ways. After all, the whole story begins with God reaching down from heaven, picking up some dirt, and breathing life into it. At one point, Jesus takes some mud, spits in it, and wipes it on a blind man's eyes to heal him. (The priests and producers of anointing oil were not happy that day.)

In fact, the entire story of Jesus is about a God who did not just want to stay "out there" but who moves into the neighborhood, a neighborhood where folks said, "Nothing good could come." It is this Jesus who was accused of being a glutton and drunkard and rabble-rouser for hanging out with all of society's rejects, and who died on the imperial cross of Rome reserved for bandits and failed messiahs. This is why the triumph over the cross was a triumph over everything ugly we do to ourselves and to others. It is the final promise that love wins.

It is this Jesus who was born in a stank manger in the middle of a genocide. That is the God that we are just as likely to find in the streets as in the sanctuary, who can redeem revolutionaries and tax collectors, the oppressed and the oppressors... a God who is saving some of us from the ghettos of poverty, and some of us from the ghettos of wealth.

In closing, to those who have closed the door on religion — I was recently asked by a non-Christian friend if I thought he was going to hell. I said, "I hope not. It will be hard to enjoy heaven without you." If those of us who believe in God do not believe God's grace is big enough to save the whole world... well, we should at least pray that it is.

Your brother,

Shane

#activism #Christian #jesus

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