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starcrossedxwriter · 2 months

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Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times.

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity.

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated.

“Rough night, dear?”

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt.

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?”

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?”

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered.

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?”

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?”

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.”

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke.

He did what??

“Are you alright, dear??”

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.”

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply.

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door.

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox.

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed.

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back.

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on:

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that.

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael.

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you.

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her.

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation.

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did.

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears.

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in.

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side.

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice.

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview.

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so.

“Thanks, appreciate that.”

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?”

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.”

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves.

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…”

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.”

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-”

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.”

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called.

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over.

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.”

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens.

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake.

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special.

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.”

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.”

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about.

“Rae? You busy?”

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in.

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?”

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?”

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts?

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.”

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good.

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways.

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer.

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?”

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless.

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.”

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.”

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?”

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.”

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.”

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.”

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.”

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.”

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.”

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.”

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.”

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.”

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.”

“She is… and I hope she knows that.”

“So tell me about…”

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into.

There has to be more than this, right?

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully.

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes.

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.”

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.”

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name.

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?”

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.”

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?”

“Too many…”

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.”

“Tiff…”

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear.

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.”

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly.

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?”

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.”

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem.

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves.

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold.

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back.

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside.

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home.

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster.

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space.

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him.

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence.

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.”

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak.

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat.

“Why what?”

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?”

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.”

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell.

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?”

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet.

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.”

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely.

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?”

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it.

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.”

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her.

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door.

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back.

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home.

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence.

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember.

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up.

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together.

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept.

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box.

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s.

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious.

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope.

To Raven on your 18th birthday

To Raven on high school graduation

To Raven after your first love

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation

To Raven on your wedding day

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom.

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three.

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one.

To my sweet darling girl,

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did.

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it.

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you.

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things.

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved.

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter.

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it.

Happy Birthday.

Love,

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it.

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word.

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all.

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about.

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen.

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with.

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards.

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.”

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?”

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family.

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.”

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.”

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words.

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for.

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.”

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter.

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.”

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack.

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.”

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??”

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff.

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.”

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at.

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early.

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be.

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world.

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on.

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.”

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.”

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?”

“Yes. Is it too late?”

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone.

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.”

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?”

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

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A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

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legoflowrs · 11 months

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HEAD CANNONS:

cw: tiny bit of nsfw, drug use, abuse, drinking, smoking

AGED UP TO 18 PEOPLE!!!

Kenny McCormick

- Kenny has a southern twinge thanks to his parents. They moved from Texas early on into Kenny’s life but thanks to always being surrounded by it he inherited it.

- Kenny works at least 2 jobs for most of high school. He has always been financially independent and wants to make sure he can take care of Karen.

- Lowkey a mamas boy always felt bad for Carol and tried to help her when he could.

- His Dad never hit him but he has always been pretty emotionally and verbally abusive, especially when he was drunk.

- This doesn’t deter Kenny from drinking but he’s the complete opposite of his Dad when he’s drunk. Kenny is a nice drunk, telling all his friends how much he loves them.

- Kenny has done all the piercings he has himself. Definitely had at least 6 in each ear and he’d probably have shark bites as well as a nose ring.

- Kenny LOVES tattoos. He’s done a few stick and pokes on himself but he met someone who did a professional one on him. He saved up for ages to get it. It’s a lark tattoo which is Karen’s favourite bird. He got it on his forearm.

- Karen is super into helping animals so every Saturday Kenny drives her to the animal shelter.

- His favourite cookie is snickerdoodles because his Grandma used to send them to his family every Christmas before she passed away.

- He has a truck that’s his passion project. I genuinely believe he went into a mechanic’s apprenticeship when school finished. He’s very smart and very handy with tools as he had to fix a lot of shit growing up.

- Kenny skates a lot. It’s a good stress reliever and it gives him adrenaline without the danger of him dying.

- Speaking of which he is still immortal but he got smarter with it when he grew up.

- I firmly believe in pansexual Kenny supremacy! He doesn’t care who you are if he likes you he likes you.

- WOLF CUT KENNY!!!!!

-Thrifting god! He’s what every tik tok girlie wants to be. I head cannon he goes thrifting with Heidi cause she’s super environmentally conscious.

- He’s friends with everyone! I think as they grew older he became super close with Stan. They bond over their shitty family’s.

- Eased up with the drugs over time after Karen found him after he overdosed in their bathroom once. Usually sticks to weed.

- Has hooked up with Henrietta (she thinks he’s the only somewhat okay conformist in south park and they usually smoke together after), Bebe (this caused a massive rift between him and Clyde), Red once or twice and Tammy.

- He flirts around a lot but doesn’t sleep around as much as people think.

- He would be extremely respectful in a long term relationship but he just hasn’t found the time to take care of anyone other than himself and Karen.

- Loves camping!!! He is very rugged and keen on doing heaps of stuff outdoors since he didn’t have that much to entertain himself growing up.

- Listens to all types of music but especially loves soft rock! It helps him mellow out.

- Would move out with Stan! Until him and Kyle started dating.

- Great with kids !!

- He pushed Stan to confess his feelings for Kyle and to this day takes credit for their relationship!

- Regularly works out! Made a makeshift home gym and Stan and Kyle join him often.

- Distanced himself from Cartman after he realised what a piece of shit he was.

- Was Majorines biggest support when she transitioned! They are super close and Kenny has a very soft spot for her.

- Hangs out with Craig to smoke and they talk about life (a little OOC for Craig but whatever lol).

- Kenny has a scar on his left eyebrow from the first time he died. It never went away and serves as a permanent reminder that he should be more careful.

- Defs a MILF lover lol.

- Drinks oat milk, Heidi put him into it.

- Him and Karen went vegetarian for a while!

- Super sporty, played football for a while but dropped it when he got bored. Stuck with track for most of high school.

- Smart but didn’t apply himself at school! Would skip often and was the guy everyone hated to be in group projects with.

- Plays the base. Did a stint with Stan in a band for a while. They still regularly play with Marj and Jimmy just for fun.

- A GOD at multiplayer video games. No one wants to verse him anymore.

- Still has his collection of playboys lol. Too attached to throw them out but would die if Karen saw them (she has seen them).

- Country music is his guilty pleasure.

- Smokes cigs but switched to vaping when Karen complained about the smell.

- Played Ice Hockey with Stan for a while.

- Was in the wedding party for both Creek and Style.

- Pre Karen complaining about the smell of cigs he smelt like cigarettes, motor oil and cinnamon.

Kenny in a relationship

- Physical touch!!!!!! That’s his main love language. Would always have his hands on your waist, the small of your back, holding your hand, stroking your hair!!

- He also loves acts of service. Your milk is running low? He runs to the store and tops it up. Light bulb went out? Changes it without even being asked.

- He’s pretty experienced with sex. Loves giving and making you feel good. It’s pretty much a reward for him.

- Whole heartedly loves you, would never even consider cheating. Super loyal!

- Loves going to the drive ins for a date! It was his first date with you and he has a soft spot for it.

- You cook and he cleans!!

- Wants to be friends with your friends and wants you to like his friends. His world is yours too when you guys are dating.

- You babysit Karen often even though she’s older now. I definitely think she’d love having a sort of older sibling to go to.

- Whenever Kenny sees you with Karen he gets instant baby fever lol and often you know what ensues.

- You bought him a record player for his birthday and he just about died. You guys slow danced for hours.

- He will be there any time of day or night to pick you up.

- I think he’ll know pretty early on he wants marriage. Keeps it to himself for a while until you guys have been in a committed relationship.

- Loves seeing the little fashion shows after you go shopping he thinks it adorable.

- Gotten to the point where if you aren’t in bed with him he doesn’t really sleep well.

- I think he has an anxious attachment style but that’s definitely worked on!

- Will take you camping even if you don’t like it lmao.

- Makes you a playlist on a CD because he’s an old man.

- Uses your body wash cause he’s a cheap bitch….

- Loves breakfast in bed.

- Would have double dates with y’all and Style and Creek occasionally.

- You get on with Majorine like a house on fire. At first you were very insecure of her because you knew at one point Kenny had a thing for her but he’s actually good at reassuring you, that you’re the one he wants.

- You guys aren’t prefect, when y’all fight it can be explosive and he usually goes for a drive but he can’t stop thinking about it.

- Decided to go to couples therapy when you got engaged to work some things out before y’all committed to marriage.

- Obsessed with you lol 10/10 partner.

A/N: first post kinda nervous lmao. kenny is my fav love him to bits. idk if any of these are kinda OOC but this is just for funsies! Also added his moodboard slay vibes.

#kenny mccormick #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick head cannons #i love kenny lol

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glitterp0prhaps0dy · 2 months

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HeartBreak part 3

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Her hair, a cascade of red-pink, was usually styled upwards, meticulously arranged to maintain her sophisticated image. Yet, in my eyes, its true beauty was revealed when it fell freely, untamed, and wild from resting in our bed or became tousled as I wove my fingers through it, losing myself in its texture.

Her skin sparkled like a constellation of stars, glittering so that whenever sunlight kissed her, she radiated like the brightest beacon in my world. She was my guiding light, the star that led me through the darkest nights. But now, with her absence, shadows have crept into my life, turning my once-illuminated world into an endless night.

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BEEP... BEEP... BEEP…

John Dory's eyes snapped open, an unwelcome greeting from the relentless alarm bug. In a futile attempt to ward off the remnants of sleep, he held his eyelids open with his fingers. But the alarm bug's piercing cry was impossible to ignore. With a quick poke, he silenced its din, bringing a momentary peace to the early morning.

That's when a familiar scent caught his attention, pulling him further from the grasp of sleep. Food was being prepared in his own home. Curious, he slid the curtain aside on his loft to discover the source. Below stood a troll with skin that transitioned from blue to a crystalline texture on his arms and legs. His hair, a unique blend of pink with white roots, was unmistakable. Leaning on a cane, it was Floyd, busy in the kitchen.

John's confusion quickly bubbled to the surface. Why was Floyd still here? And more puzzling, why was he cooking, especially the breakfast dish that held so many memories of their grandmother? It was a recipe steeped in tradition, one that always brought back a flood of nostalgic warmth.

John made his way down the ladder, his movements heavy with sleep. He stumbled toward his brother, his voice tinged with surprise and grogginess, "Floyd?... What are you still... doing here?" he asked, his curiosity evident.

The mentioned troll turned to face John, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Hey JD, how are you feeling?" he inquired, his voice soft yet laden with concern. It was clear from the look on Floyd's face that his worry for John was genuine.

Floyd gently ushered John Dory to the couch, taking a moment to bring over the freshly prepared food. Once he settled down next to John, Floyd turned towards him, navigating the delicate subject with care. "I guess, the conversation back at the bunker... it made you remember her?" His voice was cautious, treading lightly around the edges of a potentially painful memory.

"...yeah." John's response was soft, his gaze fixed on the warm meal before him, avoiding Floyd's eyes. The simplicity of his answer belied the turmoil beneath, hinting at the deep currents of reminiscence and sorrow stirred by the mention of her name.

Floyd's gaze was steady and full of compassion as he continued, "I know it's kind of your thing to keep everything bottled up, to act like everything's okay, to pretend you're alright. But last night... last night I saw you in a way I never have before. You were breaking down, sobbing so hard you eventually passed out. John, I might not know everything that went down between you and the woman in the photo, but I do know holding all that pain inside isn't good for you." Floyd's voice was sincere, each word imbued with concern as he stared intently at John Dory.

John, in turn, couldn't help but feel the weight of Floyd's words. He sulked, a deep, heavy sadness settling over him as he finally met Floyd's gaze. His eyes, usually so good at hiding his feelings, now laid bare the depth of his pain. It was as if Floyd's understanding and concern had breached the walls John had meticulously built around his heart. He looked at Floyd, his expression a mix of gratitude and sorrow, acknowledging the rare moment of vulnerability between them. The lump in his throat made it hard to speak, to express how much it meant to have someone who cared enough to confront him, to offer a shoulder in his darkest times.

Amidst the swell of emotions stirred by Floyd's heartfelt words, John found himself teetering on the edge of opening up further, tempted by the idea of sharing his burden. Yet, the familiar instinct to retreat inward, to shield his deepest wounds from even those who cared for him most, prevailed. He mustered a small, unconvincing smile, the kind he had perfected over the years, and met Floyd's concerned gaze with a semblance of reassurance.

"I'm fine, really, I am," John said, his voice a carefully modulated blend of gratitude and dismissal. Despite the genuine concern reflected in Floyd's eyes, John couldn't shake off the deeply ingrained habit of concealing his pain. The gratitude he felt for Floyd's attempt to reach out, to understand and support him, was real, yet it danced on the surface of his resolve to keep his true feelings locked away. In that moment, John Dory reaffirmed his silent vow to himself, choosing once more to shoulder his pain in solitude, even in the face of Floyd's unwavering brotherly love.

Floyd let out a sigh, a tangible sign of his resignation to the situation, as he continued to eat the breakfast he'd prepared. His glances toward John carried a mixture of sadness and concern, a silent dialogue of worry and love that went unspoken. After they finished their meal, a heavy silence fell between them, only broken by the sound of Floyd's cane as he prepared to leave. "I'm... going to go back to the bunker. See you later, John..."

As he walked towards the door, each step seemed to weigh heavily, marked by a reluctance to leave his brother in such a state. Opening the door, Floyd paused and turned back to John, his expression earnest. "Please, think about what I've said," he implored, leaving those final words hanging in the air as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

John was left enveloped in the silence of the room, Floyd's plea echoing in his mind. Alone with his thoughts, the weight of their conversation lingered, a reminder of the concern that Floyd had voiced so openly. It was a rare moment of connection, now fading into the quiet of the morning, leaving John to ponder the path forward, alone with his memories and the unspoken promise of support from his brother, should he ever choose to accept it.

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Her laughter, a melody that once filled the air, is now a memory that haunts the silence of my home. She was so small, yet her presence was immense, filling every corner with light and warmth. Her hair, a vibrant shade of dark teal reminiscent of my own, carried the promise of youth and a future untold. It would dance in the breeze as she toddled around, exploring her world with wide-eyed wonder.

Her skin, a mirror of her mother's, sparkled with the same golden shimmer, making her seem like a little sprite, born from the stars. In the sunlight, she was mesmerizing, a tiny beacon of joy and innocence. She was the continuation of a love so profound, a bridge between the past and a future we dreamed of.

But now, in her absence, my world has dimmed, the sparkle has faded, and the melody of her laughter is just an echo in a silent room. She was the light of my life, a brief, beautiful star that burned too brightly to last. With her gone, I'm navigating an endless night, yearning for the dawn that I know will never break

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months

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Hey Raven, are you going to watch the upcoming new Disney movie "Wish"?

I've seen mixed reviews, but i'm lowkey excited since we get to see a new Disney villain, especially since Disney got really lame villains after all the old classic movies!

Have you seen the trailer for the movie? What are your thoughts so far?

I saw Wish with a friend recently! I'll give my thoughts on the trailers here (in case you don't want spoilers for the film itself) and put my full thoughts beneath the cut (if you're okay with spoilers).

Looks-wise, I think Disney was definitely trying to go for something more stylistic and painting-esque for this?? And while I commend the effort, it definitely doesn't look as interesting as Puss in Boots 2: The Last Wish. The humor also definitely isn't for me, it feels very "quirky" and "so relatable" (Asha reminds me of Mirabel in that sense), and other times too juvenile (like the goat butt joke). I do like the idea of the villain passing as a good guy in-universe and actually being vain and selfish, especially since the marketing is making it clear who the bad guy is rather than making it a "twist" villain scenario. Not sure if I like Magnifico himself though??? All the ads with him in it feel like Disney is trying too hard to make people thirst for him. From just the trailers, Magnifico does seem interesting and like more of a return to the traditional "villain" rather than the protagonist having to deal with an existential dread or concept.

***Spoilers for Wish beneath the cut!***

Right off the bat, my first impression is the narrative is SO ham-fisted. Within the first 5 minutes alone we're establishing so much information and in such a clunky, unnatural way. Like... Asha says hi to her friends but then they robotically have a dialogue where they overtly call each other "friends" just so it's clear to the audience (when in reality no one talks like that). It's telling instead of showing, and this happens sooo many times early in the film.

Could not for the life of me remember the friends or their names. There were just too many of them when 1 or 2 would have been just fine to move the plot along and to help Asha. (Yes, I know they're a reference to the 7 Dwarves but it's STILL not necessary to have so many just for a reference.)

Bruh, the makeup in this movie is on point. Every time there was a close up of a character, I was staring at their eye makeup (especially Asha and the queen's).

Asha as a protagonist was... fine? She feels very close to Mirabel and at times Rapunzel in her character. I didn't dislike her by any means, but she didn't reinvent what it means to be a Disney protag. Her motivations also come off as… really “out of nowhere”. We’re told she “cares too much”, but she initially only wants to save the wishes of her mom and grandpa; she randomly decides she has to free ALL wishes midmovie and that was jarring. There could have been a smoother transition. Instead, it was abrupt and Asha didn’t change in any meaningful way. Even her “I want” song was vague (what exactly is “to have something more for us than this”?) and didn’t connect well with her character.

I do really like her design though! Her freckles, earrings, and how her hair moves are my favorite details.

Valentino was not as annoying as I thought he would be. Still didn't care for his sass and brand of humor, but at least he helped out a few times.

I called it, the film is trying so hard to make Magnifico "hot" 🤡 I don't get it but okay, Mouse. I see your effort.

Loved his fit!! Very cool cloak and diamond/star motifs everywhere! His lab and study was also fun to look at.

I quite liked the moments when the queen talked to her husband and tried to smooth things over with him. “I can fix him energy”— Their relationship seemed very genuine at the start of the movie.

NOT THE WISH NEPOTISM...

If they were going for “sympathetic” with Magnifico, it didn’t work. He gave this backstory about how he was traumatized before + left as the only survivor of a great tragedy and so now he wants to use his magic to prevent that from happening to anyone else. Thing is, we only ever know about this via his word and staring at a half-burnt tapestry. We never see the event on screen, nor what was left of the tapestry. I was expecting a twist where it’s revealed that he lied all this time about his backstory and rewrote history so he could more easily manipulate the people of the kingdom he founded and live out the fantasy of being worshipped as a “good guy”. That was such a missed opportunity!!

Something else I was thinking of (this was during “This is the Thanks I get” was??? Maybe Magnifico started off genuinely good but became worn down over time as people’s wishes grew more selfish and they became ungrateful for what they had?? Then he could have become bitter and disillusioned by the behavior of his people.

Another idea is maybe Magnifico was “villainous” only in Asha’s eyes, since they don’t agree on how to best handle granting wishes. This would be more of a clash of ideologies rather than the traditional Obvious Evil vs Obvious Good that Disney is so known for, but hey, it could be a neat evolution of their storytelling from classic fairy tale roots.

This is to say that there were so many more interesting directions they could have gone with Magnifico’s motives, character, and portrayal 😭 but the second half of the movie never commits to any of these, they just blame his complete insanity and turn to the dark side on Forbidden Magic which is such a cop-out.

The trailers gave away the twist that Magnifico was the villain. It wasn’t revealed until like the second song into the movie. Would’ve worked better as an on-the-spot reveal rather than part of the marketing, in my opinion.

When they showed the wishes, the TWST fan in my was shouting, "OMG IT'S WISH UPON A STAR, THE LIMITED TIME STORY EVENT FROM THE HIT DISNEY MOBILE GACHA GAME TWISTED WONDERLAND!!!"

As Wish is Disney's anniversary film for 100 years, there were tooons of easter eggs scattered throughout. (I had fun looking for them!) Some were visual (I saw Aurora's dress, Snow White’s well, Peter's Pan's costume, Ursula's green smokey hands, Asha's robes resembling those of the Fairy Godmother, etc.) or extended imagery/scenes (Asha recreates Mulan's dinner and “Reflection" scenes), others were more overt lines of dialogue (Magnifico says the "Mirror, Mirror" lines along with others, a deer named “Bambi”, Valentino mentions an animal metropolis in reference to Zootopia, etc.).

In theory, the wish magic sounds cool but has so much that isn't explained??? And yeah, it's magic so it technically doesn't have to be. However, there are things not explained even when it is important to the plot. For example, Magnifico crushes some wishes and seems to absorb their power for himself (including the wish of Asha's MOM, so you'd think this would be important)? The consequence of this is that the wish's owners... become sad??? Okay, what are the long-term effects??? Why isn’t this fully explored?? But then later in the film we see the same people whose wishes were crushed... regenerate their wish??? So what, he has to keep reaping them??? And why are the wishes only taken at 18 years old? What if a wish changes? Ironically, the townspeople of Rosas have a scene where they question the technicalities of this wish magic. Magnifico essentially tells them to shut up, and it kinda felt like Disney was telling us to not question their lore www

It was weird that they never fully explored the ramifications of going without your wish. You’d think they’d show us people without ambition or hope (which would incentivize Asha to return their wishes), but everyone seems blissfully happy without their wishes?? The only exception is Asha’s friend that betrays her (cannot for the life of me remember his name), and that’s namely because his asshole friends keep ragging on him for it.

I thought the movie was going to go in a “you can make your own wish come true!!” direction but NOPE, turns out it’s just magic. Felt like Disney unintentionally wrote a whole movie about "wishes not coming true unless some big powerful entity allows it to come true” (Asha literally becomes the fairy godmother of Rosas at the end, making her ultimately no different than Magnifico)… ie a metaphor for how Disney owns so many properties it practically owns our childhoods www

"The power of friendship saves the day" ending 🤣 It was very Paper Mario ending-esque...

A song saving the day though?? It’s giving the Illumination Lorax film…

I was right about the humor. Too "quirky" and/or juvenile for me.

Animation was alright? Nothing awful about it, it just didn't feel as detailed or as experimental as other films with a similar style.

Songs were mid, which checks out with the recent Disney music excluding We Don't Talk About Bruno--

Some of the lyrics however were awful. “I let you live here for free and I don’t even charge you rent” is redundant. “So I throw caution to every warning sign” means you’ll show more caution than usual, not that you’ll forego caution. The correct expression is “throw caution to the wind”. Etc, etc, etc.

There was a cute after credits scene where they reveal that Asha's 100 year old grandpa (same age as Disney omg) wrote the "When You Wish Upon a Star" theme, which was sweet since his wish was "wanting to make a mark".

THE BEST PART OF THE MOVIE WAS STAR!! It was very cute (partly because it couldn't talk and just jingled and giggled, I was dreading another annoying mascot animal voice) and reminds me of my own pet… The way Star infused everything with glitter and formed unique shapes with the red twine was so fun 😭 I'M A STAR STAN, IT WAS ADORABLE AND KINDA BRATTY AND I'M LIVING FOR IT

Decent ideas, "meh" execution. Enchanted and Shrek did it better in terms of self-aware, fairy tale defying stories. It felt as though the movie was trying to deliver a profound message but got lost in the sauce of making as making Disney references possible and didn't fully commit to actually saying something meaningful. As a result, the film feels somewhat… hollow.

That one friend betraying Asha was the biggest surprise in the film but I still saw it coming 😂 I do get where he’s coming from though (being worried that his wish won’t ever come true) but it also felt like his conflict wasn’t resolved??? It might have gone better if the movie actually fully tried to push the “you can make your own wish come true” message (to reinvigorate the traitor to make his dreams a reality on his own) but they don’t 💦

Wish didn’t end up being “the wishing star’s origin story” because not once did anyone question where Star came from or why it was different from other stars (or what the significance of Magnifico blotting out the other stars was).

I think the people that would enjoy this movie are the people that are already highly invested in Disney and the nostalgia of it.

... Anyway, stan Star 🤩 (and the talking mushrooms 🍄)

#wish #disney wish #spoilers #question #notes from the writing raven #puss in boots 2 #the last wish #puss in boots 2: the last wish #Mirabel Madrigal #Encanto #Asha #twst #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #Rapunzel #Enchanted #Shrek #Queen Amaya #King Magnifico

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steveyockey · 9 months

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In 2009, I was sentenced to life in prison. Early one morning, I boarded a bus in shackles and a disposable jumpsuit, and rode to Calipatria State Prison, a cement fortress on the southern fringes of California. Triple-digit temperatures, cracked orange soil, and pungent whiffs of the nearby Salton Sea made me feel as though I’d been exiled to Mars. After six years in the chaos of the county jail, however, I could finally own small luxuries, like a television. The thick walls of Calipat, as we called the place, stifled our radio reception, but an institutional antenna delivered shows like “Access Hollywood,” “Entertainment Tonight,” and “TMZ.” I was irritated by the celebrity gossip, but it was a connection to the outside world, and it introduced me to snippets of Swift’s performances for the first time. Here and there, I’d catch her on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show” or “Fallon,” and was surprised by how intently she discussed her songwriting. I didn’t tell anyone that I thought she was talented.

In 2013, when my security level was lowered owing to good behavior, I requested a transfer to Solano state prison, the facility with a Level 3 yard which was closest to my family in the Bay Area. I got the transfer, but my property—a TV, CD player, soap, toothpaste, lotion, food—was lost in transit. I shared a cell with someone in the same situation, so, for months, we relied on the kindness of our neighbors to get by. Our only source of music was a borrowed pocket radio, hooked up to earbuds that cost three dollars at the commissary. At night, we’d crank up the volume and lay the earbuds on the desk in our cell. Those tiny speakers radiated crickety renditions of Top Forty hits.

During that time, I heard tracks from “Red,” Swift’s fourth studio album, virtually every hour. I was starting to enjoy them. Laying on the top bunk, I would listen to my cellmate’s snores and wait for “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” to come around again. When it did, I would think about the woman I had lived with for seven years, before prison. I remembered bittersweet times when my sweetheart had visited me in county jail. We’d look at each other through security glass that was reinforced by wire. It didn’t seem fair to expect her to wait for me, and I told her that she deserved a partner who could be with her. But we didn’t use the word “never,” and deep down I always hoped that we’d get back together. When I heard “Everything Has Changed,” I had to fight back tears of exaltation and grief. Swift sings, “All I knew this morning when I woke / Is I know something now / Know something now I didn’t before.” I thought back to our first date, and how we had talked and laughed late into the night. We had to force ourselves to get a few hours of sleep before sunrise.

For the past two decades, sleep has not come easily to me. Often, when I get into bed, I think about the day I was arrested at the scene of my crime. Some neighbors called 911 and reported gunshots. I can still see the grieving family members of the man I killed, staring at me in the courtroom at my trial. I’m guilty of more than murder. I abandoned my parents and my sweetheart, too. There’s no way to fix this stuff.

Taylor Swift is currently the same age, thirty-three, that I was when I was arrested. I wonder whether her music would have resonated with me when I was her age. I wonder whether I would have reacted to the words “I’m the problem, it’s me.” Hers must be champagne problems compared with mine, but I still see myself in them. “I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror,” Swift sings, and I think of the three-by-five-inch plastic mirrors that are available inside. For years out there, I viewed myself as the antihero in my own warped self-narrative. Do I want to see myself clearly?

In “Karma,” Swift sings, “Ask me what I learned from all those years / Ask me what I earned from all those tears.” A few months from now, California’s Board of Parole Hearings will ask me questions like that. What have I learned? What do I have to show for my twenty years of incarceration? In the months ahead, when these questions keep me up at night, I will listen to “Midnights.” The woman I love says she’s ready to meet me on the other side of the prison wall, on the day that I walk into the daylight. Recently, she asked me, “If you could go anywhere, do anything, that first day out, what would you want us to go do?” That question keeps me up at night, too.

#I don’t give a fuck what you think about Taylor swift this is a beautiful piece #reading

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marblecakemix · 4 months

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hey, about your blog intro you said that you don't hate trans people but you hate their ideology, do you mind explaining what you mean?

Not at all! It came out kinda long, I hope you don't mind.

The first thing I hate the most about gender ideology is "trans kids". I'm strongly against stuffing children with hormones that their young and still developing bodies do not need. I believe that children cannot give consent to irreversible hormonal therapy and surgeries. Especially when hormones have a huge impact on their mental and physical development (just look at how different levels of estrogen in a woman's body change how she acts). A lot of adults aren't sure about transitioning and sometimes regret parts of it, how can a child make such a difficult and life-altering decision? There are safer and healthier ways of testing the waters (that should last at least 2 years to be sure), like changing the style of clothes, using different pronouns and assimilating more with the opposite sex. Why is that not the first thing recommended to those kids?

And to the people who deny any of that happening. Today at the mall I saw a 14/15 y/o girl on testosterone (I and my friend could tell by how uncharacteristically low her voice was). She clearly was not doing well, she had that empty look in her eyes (speaking from experience). She was maybe a head smaller than me (I'm 155cm/5'1) and she'll most likely never grow taller and will probably end up obese, because of taking testosterone so early. In my country gay marriage is illegal, but you are free to butcher a child's natural growth with hormones? That does not seem right.

The second thing is how transness is presented nowadays. You don't need to have gender dysphoria (even though it's the first thing you would need to be diagnosed with a decade ago to transition which was the essential thing in transsexualism)! You don't even have to want to change at all! Now all you need to do is to check the criteria of "feeling trans/like different gender" which is deeply rooted in sexism and operates on stereotypes. What does "feeling like a woman" mean? Women-feelers want to wear all pink, revealing clothing, have big bouncy boobs, act stupid, and be annoying? That sounds pretty sexist to me. Same with "feeling like a man". A man is not someone who likes bears, fishing, and cars, we all know that. You can't feel like a man/woman, because sex is not based on feelings, interests, and personality which the opposite is one of the fundamentals of being trans according to gender ideology. The most harmful thing I see that comes out of it is women (usually identifying as non-binary) say things like, I don't feel like a woman, because I have a complex personality and can think on a higher level than a toddler. That's sexism all throughout that gender ideology supports wholeheartedly.

Another thing is borderline occultic behaviors I see in gender ideology believers. They pray on the young and vulnerable and tell them that the irreversible change to their body will fix all their problems (that have usually nothing to do with gender dysphoria). The activity discourages people from looking into research on topics that questions the ideology and show the negative side of it. They vandalize, attack, and kill people who are against their ideology. They expect that their minority rights will have more power than 99% of the world's population. They usually are only or mostly friends with themselves. They advocate for children to be taken away from their families just because the family is questioning their child's behavior. Straight-up lying about statistics and research results like how the newest research says that people who transition are more likely to take their own lives than before transitioning and I don't think you'll ever hear about that from gender ideologist. There's a lot more, but I can't think of another example now.

Those are the main reasons why I hate gender ideology. I hope that this answers your question. If you want to ask about anything more specific, go ahead!

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couldtransitionsaveher · 2 months

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WANDERER/SCARAMOUCHE from GENSHIN IMPACT

JUSTIFICATION:

"Wanderer's whole story revolves around her trauma related to her mother and her body dysmorphia that ultimately lead her to signing herself off to be made into the Ultimate God of Wisdom because she couldn't deal with being herself anymore after feeling like such a disappointment for not being what "her mother wanted". And she tried to memory wipe herself and everyone else after this point because she Still couldn't deal with being herself anymore and thought it would fix everything if she didn't exist after all she experienced and did.

Early-era Wanderer chooses to dress femininely despite being surrounded by men who could have given her new clothing if she wanted to dress masculine. Even as Scaramouche and Wanderer, she still has aspects of traditionally feminine attire in her outfit by choice.

All I'm saying is let her be transfem and reclaim all the dysmorphia she experienced to be happier in her new life now. She can have a fresh start like she wants to do better and get a new name for it too when she asks" - Anonymous

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

Did you make your daily click today?

#could transition have saved her #wanderer #scaramouche #genshin impact #transgender #trans hc #anonymous submission

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hot-crossedbuns · 8 months

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being trans is so weird.

I'm trans masc. in transitioning towards presenting more masculine. if I could I would have a hysterectomy and top surgeryl right now.

but I just saw a Reddit thread about "girl secrets" and I found myself in the comments of hundreds of people describing the mundane aspects of their womanhood, like making sure you get the leftovers out when you shower at the of of you period or the weird adjustment thing you have to do with your boobs sometimes when trying to sleep.

My hair has always been a source of dysphoria for me, always being complimented on my hair, long and thick, natural highlights and gentle curls. all I ever wanted until I finally gave in at 17 was to chop it all off. I'd get a buzz cut if it meant people stopped seeing me from behind and immediately clocking me as a girl because it went right down my back even in my ratty ponytail.

but I saw this tiktok on how women often swoosh their pony tails behind them when they walk, because it's fun. and it is! I always found some joy in that before I finally cut it off and felt pride in my hair for the first time ever.

my co-workers are all women, cisgender women who don't know that I'm not one of them. to them I'm just the short haired lesbian that works shifts with them. but this means they include me in their monthy girls nights and I get to feel the joy of being the inside of some secret club I never really felt a part of as a kid. it's fun hearing them chat shit about their exes, talk about those weird things that only happen to women because of our anatomy.

and yet, I'm taking steps to turn away from that, because while these spaces are safe and familiar to me, they what's felt unnatural and like I was intruding on something not meant for me.

I'm taking these steps to look and be seen the way that makes me confident and empowered, and yet I'm time I'll lose the experience of talking to random women fixing their make up in the at the mirrors in public toilets, or seeing 5 drunk women tell a random stranger she's beautiful when they find her ex left her for someone prettier.

Men don't have that support. and I'll lose that forever when I transition.

and yeah, once I visibly transition I don't have to be as afraid of walking home at night, and yeah i won't have to hear drunk old men hit on me after telling me I look like their grandaughters, and yeah I won't have to deal with sexist jokes made at my expense by my guy friends.

but once women stop seeing me as a woman and start seeing me for me, suddenly my past, my whole childhood, where i believed I would be a woman the rest of my life, suddenly changes meaning.

if I were to talk about those weirdly sexual and creepy comments my best friends boyfriend made for months, it's just guys being dudes. if I mention the time my boss's boyfriend smacked my ass during a busy shift, it's just a bro tap. if I mention how random guys at work often try to hug me or hold my hands or call me pet names, it stops being harassment and just starts being guys messing about.

if I mention how my cramps can immobilise me, or how much I hate wearing tampons or how dogs do that weird thing where they just keep sniffing your crotch or how sometimes my ovary cramps and it's rock hard beneath the skin, or how frustrating it is when your period comes 2 days early and ruins the underwear you liked or it's a week late for absolutely no god forsaken reason and your hormones are all over the place, and you're moody, tired, angry, sad, hungry bloated and nauseous all at once, they're just look at me all funny because his could I, someone who looks and presents as a guy, possibly know what it's like to be a woman.

as if I didn't live as one for 20 years.

as if I didn't plan to live my life as a woman.

as if I didn't grow up being someone's daughter, sister or niece.

as if I didn't expect to be someone's mother, wife or aunt.

being trans is weird, because once you realise it, all of your life experience slowly stops mattering.

it's weird because yes I want the world to separate me from who they always assumed I would be, yes I want them to stop seeing me as that little girl who didn't quite know how to be a girl. yes I want them to see me the way I've always felt I was supposed to be... but I don't want them to only see the masc side of me.

my girlhood, my femininity, my lived experience as a female in the 21st century all helped shape who I am now, and just because I'm trans doesn't mean that goes away.

but no one really sees that.

and yeah, it's a good thing, it means the world is finally starting to see me for who I've always known myself to be.

but knowing that part of me is slowly fading is weird.

being trans is so weird.

and so frustrating.

all at once.

#im just having a weird time #dysphorias been kicking my ass #and that reddit post about 'girl secrets' really fucked me up a little #anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk #trans #transgender #transmasc #trans man #trans issues #lgbtq

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morninglarkspur · 3 days

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This took!!! Way too long!!! But I made refs for the eldest three Light kids!!!! Now all my old art is outdated but that's fiiiiiiine. These guys are probably the only ones getting a ref pic for each era of the AU but I do wanna do some refs for some of the side characters like Tempo and Bass!

Putting the info written on the sheets plus some added details below the cut

DLN-000 Blues Light/Breakman

Blues goes by Breakman for basically all of the Wily Era and skips right over Protoman to go by Blues. Due to how his relationship with Rock develops in this au it just doesn't feel right to try and slip Proto in. Break continues to be a name that Rock specifically can still call him even after the switch in names.

He's buster is on his right arm.

Instead of using his faulty core as leverage for getting him to kidnap Kalinka, Wily uses Mega as leverage. This means he doesn't learn about his core still being faulty until after the Wily Era. Haven't decided if he learns about it pre or post Decommission Era tho

Helmet got broken by Mega post MM4. It gets repaired when Dr. LaLinde repairs him after that incident. She also repairs the visor on it, no those are not just his sunglasses. I kept forgetting his sunglasses when drawing him so they just don't exist anymore sorry.

His eyes are visible when his bangs are neat.

Early into the Epilogue Era Roll fixes his core. She can't completely fix all the damages but he's no longer dying and is able to live a much more comfier life now that he's got access to proper robo-health care

Stays weaponized, but rarely needs to use his buster and armor.

DLN-001 Rock Light/Megaman

Answers only to Megaman while under Wily's control. He does respond to Rock when used by Dr. Light and Roll. Post Wily has him slowly re-learning to be Rock. He still always responds to Rock from Roll. By Epilogue he is mostly transitioned back to using Rock. Blues is the only one who can call him Mega without causing distress. Bass calls him Megs and is the only one who does.

During the Wily Era his eyes are capable of becoming blue again in certain situations even while infected. This ability is lost by MM5.

His buster arm is his left arm.

Post Wily has his Copy chip removed, however he refuses to get the virus removed.

His arm was blown off by Roll. He refuses to get it replaced. Dr. LaLinde repairs it to the point where a new one can easily be attached should he change his mind.

He does eventually get it replaced but tears it off himself not long after. When he is finally able to get proper repairs for this, it is permanently sealed. To replace the arm would require entirely reworking his shoulder.

Early into the Epilogue, he has the Megaman armor removed from him entirely and any remnants of his weapons system is also removed. He is entirely un-weaponized. He still retains the virus.

DLN-002 Roll Light/Gigawoman

Roll hates the name Gigiawoman. It is the name given to her by the public. No one important actual uses it so don't expect to see it mentioned often. (Shout out to my friend Axo for the name suggestion tho) She stops using Megaman to refer to Rock very soon after he got fully infected by the virus. She calls Blues Break for the Wily Era and drops it the first moment she feels like she can get away with it.

She loses her right arm to Mega when she happened to encounter him on their activation day. She insists that her arm be replaced by a weaponized one and Dr. Light concedes. Her right arm is her buster arm.

A lot of the choices going into her weaponization is based on avoiding a repeat of what happened with Rock. Her base buster is stronger and her copy chip is altered and given an advanced anti-virus built-in. She is capable of holding up to 3 weapons indefinitely and make it a point to avoid copying new Wily bots when possible.

Her hair got damaged during the same encounter she lost her arm in. She requested that it simply be cut/shaved rather than replaced so she could have a visual reminder of what she was fighting for.

She is the de-facto leader during the Decommission Era, every bot in their group acknowledge her as the leader, even those that give a hard time about who should be leader will default to her lead when it comes down to it.

She makes it a point to not wear her helmet around Rock, hoping that it'll help him readjust to being Rock again.

She remains weaponized but rarely needs to use her buster and armor anymore.

#my art #megaman #archie megaman #megaman au #an arm for an arm au #Blues Light #Rock Light #Roll Light #self harm mention #it's not described or anything just a “this thing happened” kinda deal but still better safe than sorry

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grimalkinmessor · 6 months

Note

Do you have any trans fem light headcanons?

I always have Light headcanons 👁️👁️

Usually I hc Light as bigender (she/her used generally as Kira-specific given that I think that's the only other spot in his life that he could acknowledge as a change in who he was SUPPOSED to be rather than who she really IS), because I do think Light actually does feel mentally aligned to his masculinity in a solid capacity, just not completely so, but! I can totally cook up something for trans fem Light :3

I actually have thought about this before—it's somewhere in my long ass wip ideas list—but the snag I always hit is Light even,,,,figuring out that she's trans :/ Because canon Light tends to just ignore when he feels bad in any sort of emotional or mental capacity, so dysphoria would probably ping "his" radar as something to go "Welp, time to ignore that! ᕕ(; ᐛ )ᕗ" about. So I see Light discovering it either young enough that she doesn't know that she should be denying it yet, or old enough that she could move towns and change her name with little fuss—never speaking to her family again, of course, but that's the price of being trans in early 2000s Japan with traditionalist parents :') Sayu might eventually go looking for her though. Sayu strikes me as someone open-minded.

BUT, these two options have different catalysts. If Light discovers it young enough for Sachiko to see it as "okay" to socially transition, then Sayu is the catalyst. Sayu has lots of pretty, traditionally feminine things, and she wants to play with her brother—which, of course, Light indulges. Sayu bullies Light into dressing up to play with her, she does makeovers with him, he does her hair and make-up and she does his (and while I usually hc Soichiro finding out and gently but firmly putting a stop to that, for this AU let's say he doesn't find out). Light, after enough times doing this with Sayu, probably notices the fact that he actually prefers Sayu's things to his own. He probably permanently borrows a hair pin or two, maybe even buys a few of his own when he runs errands for his mom. And Sachiko inevitably finds out about it, but again. Sachiko is just as much of a snake as Light in that she's cunning and able to switch faces quickly. So she probably has a long talk with Light about why he bought them and what's going on, and he confesses (after much manipulative prodding) that he doesn't "feel right", that he hasn't for a while, and he thinks it might be because he's a boy.

So Sachiko does what any good mom would do; she fixes it. Light would be young here, seven to ten I'm thinking, enough that it wouldn't be hard for Sachiko to buy Light some new clothes and start introducing her as a daughter. When Soichiro comes home, she sits him down after the kids are asleep and tells him what's going to happen. She does not ask for permission or his thoughts on it. She goes "Light is our daughter now and you'll treat her as such. We're moving cities in two weeks so she can have a new start in a new school. If anyone ever asks we've always had two daughters." Soichiro is bewildered of course, and instinctively affronted at the idea, but Sachiko steamrolls him. Queen Gaslighter, your honor, and her new Princess Gaslighter who learned from the best. They do as Sachiko bids, and Light is able to live her life unimpeded.

HOWEVER. If Light figures it out as an adult, then RYUK is the catalyst. Human Ryuk, of course, as I don't see grown-up Light with the Death Note having time to realize anything like that when he's busy manipulating the Task Force and his own father and the SPK and Misa and Mikami and—you get it. Anyway, Ryuk is the one who makes Light realize that she's a she instead of a he. And, being the terrible influence/cynical voice of (sarcasm) reason he is, Ryuk is the one who encourages Light to go whole hog with vanishing off the face of the Earth and changing her name instead of transitioning in secret or telling her family. But again, by this time it's too late for Light to socially transition and keep her family; everyone knows Chief Yagami and his brilliant son, their extended family knows Sachiko had a boy and a girl. They wouldn't be able to take Light in as a daughter, only disown her as a son. And Light knows this, Ryuk knows this, but Ryuk is the one that knocks Light out of her self-sacrificing "I shall simply swallow it down and deal with the lot I've been handed, continue living my life as a man even though it grows ever-chafing and suffocating :)" and into "Fuck that. I'll be doing whatever I fucking want, actually, because I'm better than literally every other conceivable human being and I should be able to revel in my own splendor as the person I want to see in the mirror." Encouraging Light's ego is double-edged sword here, obviously, but try getting Ryuk to give a fuck ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Light abandons her life as a Yagami and Ryuk helps her forge some papers so she can get a job in Fukushima as an accountant/architect/designer/whatever the hell she wants to do as Asahi Tsuki. (This is one of the few scenarios I ever picture Light changing her name in. Only ever out of necessity. Her name was never the problem, and she likes it—she keeps it if she can).

I don't see Light's personality changing all that much? Save for the fact that transitioning probably yanks down the veil of her politeness a little and she acts a little bit more herself. I.e. mean and sarcastic but in a way you only realize three hours after the fact. Light's learned to go after what she wants viciously in this case, and is probably a little more indulgent of herself as well. Unlike canon Light, trans fem Light has learned to ask herself "What do I want?". She probably lets herself have things that she didn't before, like sweets and beautiful clothes and shiny trinkets and expensive stationary—things she actually likes instead of things she's expected to have. After all, if Light's going to be "selfish" why not go all in? ;3

#asks #anonymous #death note #yagami light #fem yagami light #trans fem yagami light #ryuk #yagami sayu #yagami sachiko #yagami fam feels

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dingusfreakhxrrington · 2 years

Text

Please Don’t Go

paring: arthur havisham x m!reader

summary: when arthur thinks he has lost everything important to him, a past love comes back to show him there is still much to live for.

warnings: internalised homophobia, kind of a slow-burn, mentions of death, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, mutual pining, kissing, indications of sexual activity, mentions of injury, mentions of violence, mentions of abuse, mostly angst with some sprinkles of fluff along the way, don’t worry there is a happy ending (kind of)

word count: 8.5k

a/n: this isn’t proofread and i’m ill so excuse any mistakes (or point them out so i can fix them 😉)

part 2 | epilogue (coming soon)

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

Arthur Havisham was a conundrum of a man. He had been the entire time you had known him, even back when you were boys. No one ever quite understood him, no one other than you and his dear sister Amelia.

The three of you had been close friends almost all your lives. You’d been introduced around the ages of five and six. Amelia was a little older, perhaps eight or nine.

When your fathers were in the study discussing business and your mothers gossiping in the drawing room, the three of you often found yourselves getting into ample trouble around the house.

Whether you were visiting the Havisham house or if they were visiting you, there was always fun to be had. Amelia had taken you in under her wing, becoming the older sibling you’d always needed. Having them around so much filled the gap that was left behind from the siblings you’d never had yourself.

You never felt lonely with the two of them by your side but things started to change as you grew older.

When childhood started to make its transition into adulthood you started to experience and feel things that you were not supposed to feel.

All your life you had grown up with the expectation that you would one day marry Amelia. Your parents wanted it and so did hers. Even family friends used to joke about it, telling you that you were far too young to already be courting such a fine young woman.

That was all it would ever be though. Jokes and wishes. You realised that pretty early on in your youth, as had Amelia. She had no intention of marrying you and she knew you had no intention of marrying her.

She wanted to find her own way in life. She didn’t want to marry the first man presented to her. For you, it was a little bit different.

Not once had you ever harboured romantic feelings toward Amelia. She had always been a sister to you and nothing more. Much like how she simply saw you as another younger brother.

You were content with that. No, happy with it. For it wasn’t Amelia you had feelings for but rather her brother, Arthur.

Arthur had always been your closest friend, a companion you knew you wanted by your side until the day you died. You hadn’t realised quite how far your feelings went until you reached around fifteen. That was a common age for boys to start feeling those types of things. Or so you had been told. For one man to feel those types of feelings for another was forbidden, a sin in the eyes of the lord.

Or so you had been told.

At first, it had felt like a sin. You had never seen Arthur in love, you didn’t know what it looked like. If only you had loved before you loved him, then maybe he would have recognised the look in your eye every time the two of you were together.

It would have all happened so much quicker rather than being drawn out into agonising years of your life. Knowing he was so near, yet so far away.

Not until you turned eighteen did you know that he harboured the same feelings for you. He too felt had felt it to be a sin all those years, hiding it from all but himself until one day he simply couldn’t hide it any longer.

The two of you had been on a walk around your garden, long out of sight by the time it started to rain. You lived just out of the city, surrounded by acres of fields and meadows and woodland. At the furthest edge of your family’s property was a tree — your tree. It had always been yours, a secret place for you and him, one you hadn’t even shared with your dear Amelia.

That day, you were standing under that tree. Laughing as the heavens opened up and poured down on you. Arthur’s curls were soaked through, clinging to his face as he tried to take shelter under the largest branch on the tree.

You stood beside him, like-minded in your pursuit for shelter. Although, perhaps it wasn’t shelter you had been seeking that day. It certainly hadn’t been shelter you were seeking when his lips finally fell onto yours, throwing caution to the wind as you held tightly onto his coat.

His lips were wet with rain water but they didn’t slip one inch out of place, slotting against yours as if they had supposed to have been there all along. He held you back, his hands cupping each side of your face as he kissed you.

When reason finally returned to him and he pulled away, you were breathless. His bambi eyes were open wide, shocked at what he had done.

You chuckled, your hands never once moving from where they held onto his coat. When he tried to move away, your fingers held on tighter and you yanked him forward, kissing him again.

It could not have been a sin, not when it felt like that. Not when it felt so right. Something so sweet and heavenly could only come from the hands of God himself.

Arthur Havisham was not a trick planted by the devil to taint your soul. He was not to be the cause of your damnation. No, he was a gift from the angels. He was a piece of your very soul.

“Arthur…”

He shushed you, breath against your lips as he gently pushed you back into the trunk of the tree. It was rough against your back, even through the fabric of your clothes. A stark contrast to the tenderness of his lips against your own.

You pushed back against him, curling your fingers into his hair.

It was a passion you’d never experienced before. Years of longing fading away into nothing now that you finally had him in your arms.

𓆩♡𓆪

For a few more years you continued with your romantic liaisons, keeping your relationship a secret from the rest of the world.

When you were apart it was insufferable. When you were together but could not be together under the watchful eye of others, it was excruciating. But when you were alone, whether out in the gardens or hiding in a dimly lit room, it was bliss. Complete and utter bliss.

Until the day you were caught.

It was foolish, you supposed, to think that you could hide away forever. To think that what you had could last until the end of time.

You did not know if it was worse or better that it was his father who had caught you in Arthur’s bed or if you’d rather it had been one of the servants. No, servants talked. The head of the Havisham estate would take his son’s secret to his grave.

And that was exactly what he did.

Not a single soul heard even a fleeting rumour about the night you were caught. Not a soul saw you leave that night, Mr Havisham made sure of that. He escorted you out personally, after giving you a moment to get dressed.

He had addressed you directly, not once daring to utter a word to Arthur. You had been bold, squeezing Arthur’s hand tight as tears pricked at his eyes. He only pushed you away, muttering quietly for you to leave.

Just leave. His voice had been transient, fading as he all but whispered the final word. He did not really want you to leave. He knew you could never come back once you had.

You didn’t see much of him after that.

His father hadn’t been mad at you. He hadn’t even raised his voice, opting for silence as he shut the gate behind you on your way out. Even in his eyes, you could glimpse no anger.

Still, you didn’t return to the Havisham home after that day, although you wanted to. More than anything you wanted to go back. You wanted to see Arthur, to tell him everything was okay. But you knew you could not.

It was as if you’d made a silent promise that night. You would not return, you’d leave Arthur be, and in return, both of your secrets would be safe.

You saw him briefly in passing, his frame catching your eye at parties and dinners. He always seemed to have a glass in his hand, that you noticed. His eyes lacked the sparkle they had before as he drank his troubles away.

For a while he and his father scarcely spoke but, soon enough things returned to normal again. Back to how they should have been.

𓆩♡𓆪

You stood outside the Havisham home as the carriage arrived. You watched as it pulled up outside, an elegantly decorated coffin inside.

Snow fell all around, covering everything in a deathly white. It was pretty, beautiful even, but not as beautiful as him.

Even in mourning, you yearned for him. Yearned to be by his side, yearned to ease his pain.

His eyes flickered over to you but they only remained for a moment before they were gone again. He knew you would be there because in many ways his father had become a father to you.

Your father had died years ago before the two of you were forced apart. Mr Havisham had taken it upon himself to ensure you and your mother were looked after. He’d come to you, helping show you the ropes of running your family business. He had been nothing but kind to you up until the night he drove you away.

When your father died Arthur had been there to comfort you, to lend you a shoulder to cry on. Now you wanted to be that for him. Even if you could only be there as a friend.

You still loved him and you knew he still loved you, but he was Arthur Havisham, an enigma of a man and, at times, a fool.

Rather than let you back in, he was going to push you further away.

Amelia smiled as they passed you. There was an indescribable sadness to it but she was trying to reassure you that she was well — that she was okay.

You smiled back, hoping to show her that you too were being strong.

When the carriage began to move again, you took your place and walked behind it. You followed it all the way to the end, standing only a short distance from Arthur and Amelia as they buried him.

Still, not once did Arthur so much as look your way.

When the crowd began to disperse, you moved to his side, following along behind him even when he turned away from you.

“Arthur.”

He ignored you, walking on as if he simply hadn’t heard you but he had. You saw the way his grip tightened around the top of his cane at the sound of his name on your lips.

“Arthur!” you called again, this time grabbing onto his wrist to stop him from leaving.

He turned to you with already teary eyes. “Let go.”

“Arthur.”

Your voice was so soft and inviting, and when you said his name for the third time, he finally released some of the weight that had been sitting on his chest with a long, deep breath.

He let you slip your hand down from his wrist and wrap around his own, holding it as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

It only lasted a moment for he was soon pulling away from you again. “I cannot do this.”

Just like that, he was rushing away again.

“Arthur!” you raised your voice now as you called after him, pulling your hat off in frustration as you watched him leave, now nothing but a trail of footprints in the snow.

𓆩♡𓆪

It had been a few days since the funeral — a few days since you’d last seen Arthur — when you showed up at the Havisham home.

You recognised the servant who answered and it seemed she still recognised you despite it being so long since she’d last seen you at the door. Almost immediately she was ushering you in out of the cold, seeing you into the drawing room before rushing off to inform Arthur of your visit.

Although to your dismay it wasn’t Arthur who came to greet you.

“Y/n, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?”

“I, uh, I came to see Arthur. Is he here?”

She seemed almost upset at the mention of his name, her smile quickly falling, and you already knew something must have happened since you last saw them.

“No. He’s, um, he’s left home.”

“Left home?” you asked, voice thick with worry.

She nodded. “Yes. We had a disagreement over father’s will and he left. He said he no longer has a home, y/n.”

You pulled her into your arms, hugging her tight as she began to cry. She had just lost her father, she didn’t need to lose a brother as well.

“I will go find him,” you reassured when you finally let go and grabbed your coat.

She called after you and you turned back, listening as she asked you to bring him back. There was an urgency in her tone, she clearly felt as though she had done him wrong. She just wanted him home.

You knew how Arthur was. He was stubborn and could be so full of spite sometimes. Most of all, however, he was easily hurt. He always had been. He was strong, stronger than even he believed, but his emotions had their way of consuming him at times.

𓆩♡𓆪

Impatient knuckles rapped against the door, your foot tapping against the ground as you waited for him to open the door. You didn’t call out to announce yourself, knowing it would be unlikely that he would answer if you did.

You heard his voice on the other side, calling out to tell you he was coming and, before long, he opened the door.

The moment he saw you he tried to push it shut again but you didn’t let him, firmly pushing your hand against the door to keep it open as you walked inside. He backed inside with a scoff, turning from you as he reached for his glass.

“Drinking again, Arthur? Really?”

“What do you know?” he snapped, his voice as sharp as knives.

You sighed and relaxed, not wanting to sound condescending towards him. “I know you’re refusing to return home. Amelia is worried sick, you know? Not to mention heartbroken.”

“She’s heartbroken? Don’t make me laugh.”

“She is, Arthur. She needs you, she needs her brother. She just wants you to come home.”

He shook his head, dismissing all you had to say. “It didn’t work when she came here herself, it’s not going to work now that she’s sent you. I don’t want your charity or pity, I just want to be left alone.”

“Why? Tell me why you want to be alone so much, Arthur. Why push everyone who cares about you away? First me, now Amelia? For what reason could you hate us both so much.”

His demeanour changed and you could almost see him physically become smaller as he cast his eyes to the ground.

“I don’t hate you,” he said, his voice downtrodden, “I could never hate you.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me? I’m here, Arthur. I’m not going anywhere, just talk to me.” You were begging him as you spoke, desperate for him to confide in you. You just wanted him to know he wasn’t alone, that he had people who loved him.

He buried his sorrow, anger returning to his eyes. “You left me before, you’ll do it again. It’s your fault, you know? All of this is. If you hadn’t-”

“If I hadn’t what, Arthur? And might I remind you that I didn’t choose to leave you, you pushed me away just like you’re doing right now.”

“If I had never met you… If he hadn’t caught us that day he would have never done this! Don’t you see? He took everything from me! Everything! All because I loved you.”

His words cut deep, even when you knew he didn’t mean them. It hurt and it made you angry how he was putting all of the blame on you, making it out like you hadn’t had to endure hardship from being with him too.

“I didn’t force you to fall in love with me, Arthur. No more than you made me fall for you. These kinds of things just happen, we don’t choose them but do not say it was a bad thing. Do you really regret it? Everything we had? Everything we meant to one another? Would you have rather it never happened at all?”

He watched you with an unreadable expression. For once, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking but you knew he was thinking and thinking hard at that. His brows were knitted, his hands curling into balls as you spoke.

“Tell me, Arthur. Tell me it meant nothing to you. Tell me you regret it. Tell me you wish it never happened and I’ll leave right now but know if I do, I won’t be coming back.”

You thought you had him. You thought there was no way he would disregard everything you had together so easily. You were wrong.

“I wish it never happened.”

Your face trembled in anger, your hand clutching your cane so much tighter than before, but then the anger hollowed out into this bitter, empty nothingness.

“Very well. Goodbye, Arthur.”

There was a gaping hole in your heart, the void tearing further open as you marched outside. A stray tear started to run down your cheek but you wiped it away with a gloved finger.

𓆩♡𓆪

The days rolled by slowly and you’d heard little of Arthur. You were not sure what he was doing or what he was planning but you knew he was still sulking, still refusing to meet with his sister. So, Amelia had resorted to other means to talk with him.

You had been waiting for her in the drawing room and, when she finally returned, asked, “So? Will he be there?”

“He will. Although he was not happy about it.”

You hummed, “At least he will be there.”

“Yes, and I hope you will too?”

You crossed your brows, disliking the suggestion. “You want me to come to the new year reception? I don’t think that is a good idea. I fear Arthur will be less happy to see me than he will be simply being there.”

“Please, y/n. I need you by my side for this and you know Arthur can be… well, difficult at times.”

“You want me there to keep an eye on him?”

“And to show your support for me. Our families have always been close. I’m sure just having you there will help cement me in my new position.”

You wanted to say no. To come up with an excuse, any excuse. You weren’t ready to face him, not after what happened the last time you saw him. But you couldn’t leave Amelia on her own.

You knew what it was like to be left alone after the death of a parent, to suddenly have piles of responsibility thrown onto your shoulders. And you weren’t a woman, it was easier for you. You couldn’t leave Amelia to face it alone, you just couldn’t. So, you put your feelings to the side and agreed to attend the reception.

𓆩♡𓆪

There they were, Arthur and Amelia standing side by side with smiles as they greeted every guest as they arrived.

When he caught sight of you, your heart frosted over and burnt up in flames all at once. His smile fell a little but then he looked away, speaking to another guest with that forced smile tainting his features once again.

There was a feeling worse than knowing you could not be by his side. A feeling worse than watching him push you away. A feeling that tore through your very existence like a whirlwind, bringing disarray to your life.

That feeling came from watching the pain he was in. Seeing him so hurt, so broken, it killed you. You just wanted to see him smile like he used to. You wanted nothing more than to hear the brightness in his voice and see the sparkle in his eye. You missed it — missed him.

Amelia saw the interaction between you and rather than speak to you she simply smiled your way with a subtle nod of her head, leaving you to go about your business so that you didn’t have to speak to him when you weren’t ready.

As people chatted away, Arthur stood off to the side. His arms were folded over his chest as he did a meagre job of pretending he was okay. You had spotted him from halfway across the room and still, you could see the unpleasant expression that held his face captive.

You took a deep breath and made your way toward him but, when he spotted you, he turned away, ducking into another room to escape you.

“Ah, Mr y/l/n. I’ve been wanting to speak with you all evening.”

Before you could follow after him, a tall man whom you briefly recognised from your father’s funeral stepped between you and your route to Arthur.

“Mr Barnett, how have you been these days?”

You entertained the conversation, partially glad to have something else to focus on.

After a few minutes, when the music began to play, Arthur was back in the room again. This time accompanied by his sister.

They danced together and, for a moment, he looked happy. His smile was radiating and it was as if nothing had happened between any of you. It felt as though things were back to how they had been not all that long ago. Well, until a gentleman you didn’t recognise cut in, whisking Amelia away to dance.

You saw how Arthur watched them, his eyes narrowing as the gentleman spoke to her. You weren’t sure what they were talking about but you could see Amelia seemed confused or at least somewhat surprised to see him there. Though she seemed to know the man so you decided to keep your questions at bay until later.

Arthur soon turned away, making a dart for the door the moment she was distracted with something else.

That was your chance and you took it, quickly following after him before he could make it out to the street.

“Arthur!”

He sighed, his head turning to look at you with a low, solemn chuckle. “I thought you weren’t coming back?”

“I’m not here for you, Arthur. I’m here for Amelia.”

His laugh grew more patronising. “As if she hadn’t already taken enough from me now she’s taken you too.”

“It’s not like that, you know that. I’m here as her friend, as a brother just like you. She hasn’t taken me, it was you who pushed me away.”

No matter how many times you said it, nothing seemed to go in. He just wasn’t listening to you — didn’t want to listen.

You sighed and pushed your fingers to your forehead, massaging the tight skin there. “For God's sake, Arthur. When will you just stop sulking and come back home? Can’t you see she wants you by her side?”

“Sulking? I simply want what is mine. When she gives it to me, I will come

home.”

He was beginning to get on your nerves, going round and round in circles over and over again until it made you dizzy.

“You know that isn’t going to happen. It’s not what your father wanted.”

“Of course, it’s not! How could my father want me, a stain on his good name, to inherit his riches?” he snapped, his voice growing louder.

You were thankful for the music, thankful that no servants were around, thankful that this conversation was one kept between the two of you.

“Don’t be a fool, Arthur! Don’t throw what you have away over some petty argument. Just make up with your sister and come home. You have more than enough means to make your own way in this world, you are a Havisham after all.”

You appealed to his family pride, hoping it would help to sway him, but it did nothing of the sort.

“Yes! I am a Havisham! That’s why I shouldn’t have to sit idly by while my sister steals what is rightfully mine!”

Although you had tried not to, you were growing angry at him. All you wanted was for him to listen, to finally see what he was missing, but all he cared about was his inheritance and what he believed to be rightfully his.

“Is that all you care about? You just want the money? The power? If so then you can gladly have mine. I’ll sign over my home, my money, my business. Anything you want, you can have. Just come home. Come home to your sister and it’s yours.”

He seemed struck by your words, astonished you could ever think so lowly of him.

“It has never been about the money! It is about what is mine. What should be mine that was given to her! Do you not see what father has done to me? He’s forsaken me even in death, casting me aside for what I am.”

“And what is that, Arthur?” you asked, voice livid as he once again tried to place the blame onto how he felt about you.

He shook his head, fists balling by his sides as the gentle glint of tears began to poll in his eyes. “You know what I am, you made me this way.”

“I did nothing of the sort and you know that. You chose this path as much as I. Do not dare to push all of the blame onto me. Leave if it is what you wish but know you can only push us away for so long. We are your family, like it or not.”

“I have no family.”

With that, he was gone. His coat twirled behind him as he pushed his hat down onto his head, making his way out onto the snowy streets.

You did not have it in you to chase after him again this time, not when you knew you would only be met with the same anger as before.

He said he’d never hate you but you were beginning to think that was a lie. If he well and truly thought you to blame he was an ignorant fool but it meant that he no longer loved you as he once did.

If just the sight of you made his blood boil so much then there was only one conclusion: he did hate you. And that alone broke your heart.

𓆩♡𓆪

Meriwether Compeyson was the name of the gentleman that had approached Amelia at the reception. Apparently, he was looking to invest in the brewery.

There was something off-putting about him but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what. Whether he had ulterior motives or if he simply wanted to make a business investment you were unsure.

What you knew for certain, however, was that you had never heard of him before. The man had popped up as if out of nowhere, breaking into Amelia’s life with stories and tales about himself that seemed almost too well thought out.

No matter how hard you search you could not find anything on the man and, although you had the means to research his background, you did not want to pry without Amelia’s say so and you knew she would never condone such a thing.

On the day of the fair, when Amelia invited you along with her and her closest friend, Honoria Barbary, you came to learn that Mr Compeyson was a friend of Miss Barbary’s suitor, Captain Hawdon.

You knew of Hawdon, although you had not met him before. You knew Honoria, however, and you knew from the way she looked at him alone that he was a good man.

The five of you had walked around the fair, chatting about this and that and, as you got to know Compeyson, he seemed like a decent man. Still, however, there was something about the way he spoke that had you wondering.

“Forgive me if I am too forward but are you perhaps a suitor to Miss Havisham?” he asked with a smile, acting as though he were simply getting to know you.

“No, no I am simply a friend. Amelia is like a sister to me.”

He hummed, looking as though he were storing the information safely in his mind.

𓆩♡𓆪

With business taking you out of London, it was a while before you saw Arthur or Amelia again.

By the time you returned Mr Compeyson had proven to have stuck around. Not only was he now regularly seeing Amelia but Arthur too. It seemed he had managed to worm his way into their lives after all.

Part of you had hoped that meant the two of them had reconciled and put their spat behind them but that hope was diminished when Amelia told you about how Arthur had barged in the night before. How he was drunk and beside himself, spewing out nasty words left and right until Mr Compeyson had to practically throw him out of his own home.

And that was how you found yourself once again banging on that old wooden door outside of Arthur’s lodgings.

The moment Amelia told you of what happened you found yourself on your way back to him. You knew something was wrong because he would never have behaved in such a way if it were not.

“What do you want?” his voice was cynical, although still hurt in its foundation.

“I heard about what you did last night, Arthur.”

He laughed, walking inside without so much of a protest against you following. So you did, shutting the door behind you.

“So you’re here to give me a talking to as well I presume?”

You shook your head, brows knitting. “No. I just want you to talk to me. Please, tell me what is wrong.”

“You know what is wrong,” he spat as he sat down at the end of his bed, lifting a glass of cheap brandy to his lips.

Before you knew what you were doing you were pulling the glass out of his hand to stop him from drowning himself in liquor. This was a conversation you wanted to have while he was sober. Or at least as sober as he could be.

“I know there is more to it. You would have never spoken to Amelia that way otherwise. Last I heard the two of you had made up, what happened?”

His eyes were like daggers piercing through you. Words like venom as he sneered, “It is of no concern to you.”

“No concern to me? You do not truly believe that, do you? I care about you, Arthur and I hate to see you this way.”

He stood back up, pointing a damning finger at you even though he could not bare to look you in the eye. “Don’t pretend you care about me, just give me the lecture and leave.”

You impulsively jerked forward and pulled him to you, sick of listening to him ignore everything you had to say every single time you opened your mouth to speak.

He was surprised but he did not try to move out of your arms. If it had not been for the sharp pain he felt in his back as your hands found their place there he would he leaned into your embrace. Instead, he only winced at your touch.

You stepped back, placing your hands on either side of him as you lowered your head, trying to make him meet your eyes. His head only hung lower, his gaze fixed on the ground.

He let you turn him around and didn’t complain when you began to carefully lift his shirt, your eyes widening at the long, crimson lashes across his pale back.

“Who did this to you?” you slowly dragged your finger across his skin, gently following along underneath one of the wounds, “Does it have anything to do with what happened last night?”

He stepped away, pulling his shirt back down as he moved to sit at the end of his bed again. When his voice finally came out it was in a stutter. “It… It does not matter.”

With a heavy sigh, you sat down beside him. “How did we end up like this, Arthur? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

He unconsciously leaned closer to you, craving your touch after being in your arms again after so long. He’d missed you more than he’d been letting on. He missed having you around, having you close.

“I won’t pry if you do not want to tell me but if someone is hurting you, Arthur, I need to know. When you are hurt, I am hurt. Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I… I messed up, y/n. Really messed up. I- I-”

His words caught in his throat, unwilling to surface. Whatever he was going through, he did not want you to know. So, you wouldn’t pry. His business was his own and, if he truly felt as though he were in danger, he would have told you.

You reached over, pulling his hand into your lap as you gently rubbed your thumb across the back of it. “I’m here, Arthur. I know what I said before but I didn’t mean it. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Never again.”

His lips curled up into a sad smile and, finally, he turned his eyes to you again. You leaned forward, letting instinct take over as you pressed your lips to his.

It had been so long since you’d last felt their tender touch. So long since you’d last known such a warmth.

“I love you, Arthur. I always will,” you whispered against his lips, smiling against them as you kissed him again, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He hummed against you, finally letting you in after all this time you’d spent apart.

You were careful with him, gentle so as not to hurt his still raw wounds. You cupped his face, one hand moving to twist your fingers into his curly hair.

He leaned into you, pushing you down onto the bed as he climbed over your body, his lips never once leaving yours.

𓆩♡𓆪

“I have to go,” you spoke as your fingers absentmindedly played with Arthur’s hair, running your other hand up and down his arm as he rested against your bare chest.

He only moved closer, if that were even possible, holding onto you tighter to prevent you from leaving. “Stay just a little while longer? I don’t want you to go.”

You pushed his curls back and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Believe me, I wish I could but I have business to attend to. Will you be safe here, Arthur? Tell me and, if you say no, I’ll personally see to it that you are moved somewhere else.”

“I’ll be alright, I just wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I’ll be back soon,” you smiled at him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before you climbed out of bed in search of your clothes.

𓆩♡𓆪

To your dismay, it had been a couple of days since you’d last seen Arthur. You’d tried to find the time to see him but whenever you thought you were finally done with work something else popped up.

It was your own fault, moving things around and filling out all the paperwork needed to become a company shareholder in the Havisham brewery had been a longer task than you had anticipated.

Your father had never taken the dive himself, not wanting to step on his old friend’s toes. As much as your father and Mr Havisham had enjoyed discussing business deals together, neither one wished to be bound by business over friendship.

With Amelia taking charge, however, you felt it best to support her however you could. By purchasing a share in the brewery you would be able to provide more advice to her about the company.

Not to mention, many of the elder men in the company were still unsure of her leadership so becoming a shareholder yourself also meant you could support her and her decisions more officially to help convince the other shareholders that she was more than fit for the job.

You had no doubt that she would prove herself to them on her own but you knew your encouragement and support could help lift the burden on her shoulders at least a little. You would have done the same for Arthur had it been him in her shoes too.

With work taking up so much of your time you hadn’t found it too unusual that the next time you saw Arthur was at a meeting for the Havisham brewery.

He too had shown up to give his support to Amelia, despite whatever disagreements were between them. You doubted he had apologised for how he behaved the last time he saw her but regardless she seemed more than thankful to have him there.

She just wanted her beloved little brother back, after all.

When Arthur walked into the room, taking his place beside his sister, his eyes fell onto you. At first, he seemed surprised to see you but then an ever so faint smile graced his lips.

You smiled back, of course, happy to see him again after your rushed parting the last time you’d spoken.

It hadn’t been quite what you had hoped, finally making up after so long only to leave him once again, but now that work was finally about to start calming down again you hoped to be able to see him more often.

As you’d predicted, Amelia swept the board off their feet, swaying them all into agreement with her proposed changes. The meeting was over not too long after it began and, finally, you were able to speak with Arthur.

“You were brilliant, Amelia. I knew you had it in you.”

Amelia placed her hand on your arm with a gentle smile. “If I’m being completely honest I was worried they were going to reject my proposals.”

“Don’t be silly, Amelia. You had an answer to their every question, you were always a step ahead.” Arthur too agreed, complimenting his sister on her success.

When another gentleman walked over, garnering Amelia’s full attention, you moved closer to Arthur.

“I’ll come find you later,” you whispered into his ear before turning back to Amelia, bidding each of them farewell on your way out.

You walked down the street with a skip in your step, pulling out the gift you had purchased for Arthur the day prior.

It was a silly thing really, just a small token of your affection but he had been through a lot these past few months and you wanted him to have a reminder with him at all times. A reminder that he was loved — that he mattered to someone — because he had made it very clear how alone he had been feeling since his father passed away.

It had grown dark out when you went out in search of him, heading to his lodgings. You hoped to spend the night there if you could. To hold him again as you slept after giving him the gift you had bought.

When you arrived at the pub, however, you found him swaying from side to side ever so slightly as he drank the last of his latest drink, slamming it down on the table before ordering another.

Something had happened in the time since you’d left him earlier that day, something that had him resorting to using liquor to ease his spirits again.

You made your way over to him quickly, calling out to the bartender to halt that last order as you pulled Arthur up out of his chair.

He groaned and complained but followed your gentle tug nonetheless, allowing you to walk him out of the pub onto the quiet street.

“Arthur, what is wrong? Why are you drinking?”

He stumbled slightly as he moved away from you, his words fumbling as they came out of his mouth. “Oh, so I can’t sit and have a quiet drink anymore?”

“This is more than a quiet drink, you can barely stand,” you sighed, manoeuvring to keep him steady.

You didn’t want to get into an argument with him, especially not out on the street so late at night.

“I thought you’d left again, you know? Came back, had your fill and left me behind all over again.”

“That’s not fair, Arthur. You know I had work. I wanted to come and see you. My heart ached that I couldn’t,” you admitted as you tugged him into a nearby ally.

“You did?”

His puppy eyes were boring into yours, searching for the truth in your features. Any trace of the bitterness he once felt was gone, everything about his features now turning soft as he looked at you.

He used to be like this when you were children, always so kind and sweet. One of the most caring people you had ever known to walk the earth. It was only as he grew older, his ears sharpening and picking up on the way people spoke about him and his cook of a mother, that he began to grow cold.

“More than anything,” you reassured him, your tone somehow more telling than the words you spoke.

He smiled and leaned into you. His face came to rest against your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you to hold you close. “Don’t go again, please. I need you.”

You hugged him back, being weary of the wounds on his back as you did so. “I’m not going anywhere.”

This was the Arthur you had fallen in love with, his sweetness unmatched as he clung to you.

The cold air nipped at your ears and you could feel the frost already settling into Arthur’s cheek when you held it in your hand. “Let’s go inside, we’ll catch a chill if we stay out here any longer.”

He stopped you as you went to walk away, his fingers clinging tightly to your coat. “We can’t go inside… I- I have a friend staying in my room.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering who he could mean and why they would need to stay there. You could tell from the look in his eye that he was hiding something from you but you didn’t have it in you to ask him at that moment.

All you wanted was to get him home and warm him up, let the alcohol leave his system so that you could talk with him properly.

𓆩♡𓆪

“A-Are you sure it’s okay I stay here tonight?” he asked as you began to pull his coat off him, hanging it up by the door.

Your maid was already making her way to you, waiting for any instruction you were to give her.

“Emma, run a hot bath for Mr Havisham.”

“Yes, Sir. Shall I prepare the guest room as well?”

Without even turning to Arthur, you shook your head. “That won’t be necessary. Just run the bath and retire for the night.”

Emma nodded with a smile, glancing between you and Arthur before hurrying off to do as you asked.

By the time she was out of the room, Arthur was grabbing onto you yet again, his eyes wide with panic.

“Are you mad? Won’t she know I have stayed here? Won’t she talk of this?”

You smiled softly, reassuring Arthur that he had nothing to worry about. “Emma won’t tell a soul, Arthur. I can assure you of that. She is… of like minds, shall I say. Besides, she has seen us together once before.”

“She has?” his eyes widened further, his chest contracting, suffocating his breaths.

“Yes,” you rested a comforting hand on his shoulder to soothe him, “She spotted us out in the gardens once years ago. You can trust her, Arthur.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head and finally, he realised what you had been getting at. “Of like minds? She prefers the company of women?”

All you did was nod, smiling at him as you took his hand and began to gently lead him through the house.

It had been a while since he’d been in your home, far too long. He hadn’t realised quite how much he’d missed it until now.

As you made your way upstairs he began to think back on your childhood. He remembered the two of you and Amelia running through these very halls, giggling and yelling as you played.

Your parents had told the three of you off for being so loud countless times yet you knew a part of them was always happy to see you indulging in the imagination of childhood.

Amelia had grown out of it first, deciding she was to be a lady before long so she could no longer play silly games with little boys. Still, that didn’t stop her from making you host tea parties with her and your mothers on occasion.

The three of you were always so happy back then. So naïve to the struggles of life.

Everything seemed so different now. His father was gone, his mother too, and although all he had left was you and Amelia he still found himself pushing the two of you away.

Not any more. At least, he wouldn’t push you away again. No, he needed you in his life again. He needed you because he had no one else.

When you reached your bedroom you nudged Arthur toward the fireplace, letting him warm himself through while you searched through your drawers until you found two neatly folded nightshirts.

You rested them on the bed and made your way back over to Arthur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you tucked your head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

He swayed with you slightly, his hands moving to hold your arms as he eased into the embrace. You held him gently, keeping a small space between your chest and his back. You didn’t want to remind him of his wounds or whoever had given them to him but he leaned back into you softly, his eyes closing as he focused on your warmth.

“You can be yourself when you are here and you are always welcome, Arthur. I hope you know that.”

You pressed your lips to his neck and he hummed, “I’m sorry.”

You moved away to look at him, your expression turning tender as you listened to what he had to say.

“I’m sorry about everything. I shouldn’t have pushed you away… I shouldn’t have put all the blame on you. You never did anything wrong.”

“Neither did you,” your thumb brushed against his cheek as you lifted his head to look at you, “Following your heart is never wrong, Arthur, whether others approve of it or not.”

His lip curled up slightly on one side, a half smile playing on his lips.

“Come, your bath should be ready.”

As you suspected, the bath was run and Emma had retired to her quarters for the night, leaving the house empty save for you and Arthur.

He slumped down into the tub letting the fresh water engulf him, soothing him as you reached for the soap.

You sat on a stool beside the bath, pulling Arthur’s arm out of the water to run the bar of soap along it. When you tapped the back of his shoulder he leaned forward, allowing you to rub the bar across the top of his back.

Your eyes ran across the marks that painted his back. They were starting to heal but they still looked painful. The sight alone angered you, as did the thought of anyone harming Arthur in such a way again.

“Will you not tell me who did this to you?”

He shook his head, his voice quiet as you pressed a kiss to his back. “I can’t…”

“Can’t or won’t?”

A heavy sigh fell from his lips. “I will tell you… I promise I will tell you everything, later.”

“I cannot help you if you won’t tell me what you’ve gotten yourself into,” you reminded as you raised the jug of water, wetting his hair.

“I know, I know. I just need a little more time.”

Your fingers ran delicately through his wet curls and he leaned into your touch as you began to massage his scalp. “For you, I have all the time in the world. Just know that I am always here for you, Arthur. Whether you need a place to stay, an ear to listen or just wish for my company. Whatever it is you need or desire, I am here.”

𓆩♡𓆪

You lied together all night. For a while, you talked, your limbs tangled together as you did what you could to ease whatever burdens he was carrying. When you finished talking, you slept by his side, holding him close until morning.

He only stayed for breakfast, thanking Emma with a smile when she saw the two of you to the door and pushed an extra bread roll into his hands, a snack for later.

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

Arthur turned back to you before Emma could open the door, his brows crossing as he watched you pull something from your coat pocket.

You held the gift out for him and he took it, smiling as he examined the fine fabric in his hands. “A neckerchief?”

“It’s not much but I’d like you to wear it.”

He didn’t move as you began to untie the neckerchief he was wearing, slipping your gift out of his hands to tie it for him. You held out the bottom, running your thumb over the embroidery at the bottom.

“Our initials?” he questioned as he tugged the fabric from your hands for a closer look.

“As I said, it’s not much but it’ll mean a piece of me is with you even when I am not. I meant every word I said, Arthur. I won’t ever leave you again.”

His lips curled, his teeth shining as he smiled so genuinely. “Thank you.”

Once again you were parting far too soon, seeing him out and he climbed into your carriage. He looked out at you as the wheels began to move, waving at you as he left.

“I hope it is not too bold of me to say, Sir but I am glad to see Mr Havisham again. You haven’t seemed this happy in far too long.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Emma. “I couldn’t agree more.”

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