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cursedxartist-moved · 4 years

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Scarlet’s Philosophy and Life Goals

I have tweaked her philosophy a bit. The rest is under the cut since it got a bit long.

Before discovering the truth of her “curse”, she does believe in it, but let me be clear, Scarlet is NOT truly cursed, but she honestly BELIEVES she is. Following her mother’s death, her father instilled the idea into her over the course of years of abuse, and Tristan’s death only solidified in her mind that this was not a coincidence. She does not think of herself as 100% evil, though. She can fall into a head space where she slips into those darker thoughts, as I’m sure most people with paranoia, anxiety, and depression can all relate to, as we logically know we are not evil/bad/worthless/etc., but we still slip into that mindset where we feel that way about ourselves. Scarlet does not believe people are born evil, but can be predisposed to it, and/or develop to be evil.

The concept of evil is an interesting thing to her, because she does believe it exists, but her morals are quite skewed. Evil, to her, is really cruelty for cruelty’s sake, or something that truly crosses the line for her - such as child abuse. She is of the belief that even things most would consider to be morally reprehensible can be understood and excused with the right motive. There is always a cause or reason. But if the reason is simply to be cruel JUST to be cruel, or say someone takes advantage of someone who is inherently vulnerable, like a child, then that would qualify as “evil” to her own morals. She does not really care much for the morals of society, but she will work within them if it benefits her to do so. But mostly, she operates on her own set of rules and moral code.

This leads us to why, to her own logic and how she believes the curse works, she does not truly think of herself as evil. The death of her mother and her friend were not purposeful, yet they caused some others to see Scarlet as evil/cursed/etc. She believes she is cursed, and a murderer, but because she had no control over their deaths, she does not see herself as truly evil. Despite this, she has no desire to debate against these rumors. Nothing good would come from that; telling others you are not evil would only paint the picture that you are safe, which is not true in her case. So she instead wears the label bestowed upon her as a shield in an attempt to keep others at bay.

Due to this, Scarlet often relates to the monsters in movies, books, and fairy tales. Those who technically did not do or mean any harm, but due to their differences or ability to do wrong, they are outcasts, or even hurt being who they are, and this abuse is what causes them to retaliate, and become exactly what others were calling them all along: a monster. She especially loves Frankenstein, a story which in her mind is of a monster driven to horrific acts as a result of his creator’s neglect and abuse. The Shape of Water holds a special place in her heart, as that is one of the few stories in which the monster gets a happy ending. Although she knows falling in love is not what her ending will be, she still strives for the happiest ending possible for her.

Tristan and her mother died so that Scarlet may live, so she is determined to do just that. She cannot die before she has made something of herself, and has lived successfully and for as long as possible. She refuses to let her father’s guilt way her down anymore than beyond just a reminder of what happens when she lets others get too close. The only person she truly wishes her curse would work on was her father, but because he did not die, she is convinced that those only perish when in a mutual, strong, trusting relationship.

Unbeknownst to her, though, is that her father actually does regret what he did. He has since gotten help for his mental instability, and wishes to rekindle his relationship with his daughter. He knows he may never get custody back, and quite frankly doesn’t want to in fear that he will relapse and hurt her again, but he realized how wrong he was to cast aside his daughter that his wife loved and cherished so much that she died for her. She did not die BECAUSE of Scarlet, but rather FOR her, and he immensely regrets hammering in the wrong message into his child’s thoughts.

So Scarlet lives wearing the title of the cursed artist, only drawing people in for business and nothing else, while having the goal of at the very least being content with her life. She wishes to make something of herself, refusing to die and give up so that the deaths that follow her were not in vain.

#[ 🌹 | opening up means trusting others { HEADCANONS } ]#child abuse //#death //

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sandracarroll · 4 years

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A L L I S O N C L O V E R S A N D R A C A R R O L L . twenty-two teamaker. chicago, il. psychedelics/coke dealer. tramp. dropped angel.

cw: maternal death, sexual coercion, frequent drug mentions.

“SANDY CARROLL” --- formerly known as allison clover --- grew up in the underbelly of chicago, raised by a fatally over-protective single mother, who tried to shield her daughter from the grit and grime that covered every square inch of their community.

as a child, allison was kept busy at all costs, distracted by a wallpapering of catholicism from the influence of her peers and the sordid history of her family. she was brought up in the church; she socialized primarily within the church’s community, she played on the church’s softball team, she participated in the church’s charity events and she helped organize the church’s fundraisers.

the clovers ran an online business selling homemade incense, candles, and teabags from herbs and spices grown right in their apartment. it was just enough to help keep the lights on when her mother’s job at the plant nursery couldn’t cut it. this is to say: a young, naive allison wouldn’t have much in realm of inheritance when she would need it.

shortly after ally’s 18th birthday, her mother was killed in an assault.

gang initiation. body mutilated. her teenage daughter had to identify the corpse.

the tragedy shattered allison’s eden. she woke up to the nihilistic nature of the world, in which good people can die with no rhyme or reason. it showed her the true nature of the modern christian and their shortcomings in practicing what they preach. in the wake of ms. clover, the church community offered allison their prayers and platitudes, but no one in their impoverished community had a dime to spare or room on their couches when allison needed a place to stay. every bystander assumed someone else would step up to take care of her.

emotionally distraught and disappointed in her paper thin support system, ally stopped sticking around after mass and isolated herself from the community, eventually opting not to attend altogether.

the scraps of wealth she had left after paying for a catholic funeral would not help her afford the rent. her underwhelming resume would not be enough to get her a job to support herself. with too much grief to handle working two minimum-wage gigs--- with her mother deeply estranged from the rest of their family--- with her long history of being isolated from her neighbors--- she had nowhere to turn when she was evicted.

her naivete and lack of options paved allison’s way to falling in with a bad crowd. her first night at a local shelter, she was recognized outside by a shaggy boy from her graduating class. immediately trusting, she opened up to him about her situation and vulnerability, and he was all too quick to offer her a place to stay until she got back on her feet. she never stopped to question his character or intentions.

she was fast to fall in with the boy and his band of delinquents, which she would later understand to be a gang deeply involved in several webs of drug trafficking in the city. her sheltered upbringing left her unprepared to notice red flags, and her gullibility made it easy for the kids to take advantage of her on the grounds of offering her bedrooms to stay in and spotting her meals in her hard time. when offerings of basic human necessities turned into talking her into smoking with them and bringing her along to parties, it wasn’t hard for them to pressure her into using her inexperienced body to show appreciation for their hospitality.

catholic guilt went head-to-head with disillusioned catholic angst, both raging inside her head with feelings of physical violation she didn’t have the wisdom to identify. in the midst of the chaos, she developed a taste for the escapism. she preferred to live in the haze of inebriation and work out her conflicts of spirituality with mushrooms rather than face her situation or her grief. but she didn’t realize she was running up a tab with her friends.

from a peer’s perspective, she picked up on their culture fast. learned the slang and the technique. gave off the impression of someone who knew what she was getting into when they started sending her to drop off and pick up at college campuses, and when she was smoking herself into debts she’d never be able to repay.

after ignoring the scarier and grittier aspects of the new friends she’d made for a year, and then upsetting them when she started avoiding sex— depriving her friends of their payment— things came to a head after a traumatic trip on DMT, a vision of her disappointed mother sent her into a serious crisis of faith and a fear that her sins were becoming unforgivable, which prompted her choice to branch out to people other than the dealers she was wasting her youth with.

when the ghouls started getting insulted by her pulling away, one of her lovers let her know that she still owed them for all that they had provided for her, and when she stood her ground and put a lock on what they wanted, he told her she owed them at least $4,000 for their troubles before they would let her scurry away.

in a cold sweat for finding that kind of money in the near future and feeling a serious threat to her safety at the mercy of a gang, she opted instead to commit one last sin in the form of stealing a suitcase and backpack of drugs from the trap house and taking a bus as far out of illinois as she could go.

she started going by the new name SANDRA CARROLL, and planned to keep moving and sell the stash of psychedelics to keep her afloat until she could start using her legal name again and get a law-abiding job. she tried to go to hipster bars and college parties, looking for less dangerous people to pick her up as a sugar baby and give her a couch to sleep on until she was far enough and emotionally stable enough to take care of herself.

the panic attacks and paranoia made it hard for her to nail a trustworthy hookup, but she found a way to survive by couch surfing at a state university in kentucky. the low threat level and high libido of clients on a college campus makes it easier for sandra to deal, especially to inexperienced freshmen who were too insecure about playing it cool to ask questions when she hiked up her selling prices. it was a perfect environment hustle free food and beds to sleep in, and she could have stayed afloat there for long enough to let her trail run cold, find a new social circle, and eventually even heal.

that is, until she spotted one of the gang members looking for her at a party.

sandy wound up packing up her things that night to flee to a remote place she’d heard about, in the countryside of north carolina, serene and inexpensive, far away from signals or surveillance, in a quaint little camp town called wrenbury.

(( TL;DR: sheltered church girl is ill-prepared and too naive to survive on her own when her mother dies unexpectedly; she falls in with a gang and loses control of her expenses and her body; steals an enormous stash of cocaine and psychedelic drugs and flees chicago, going by a false name and dealing to stay just barely afloat. spent the last year dorm-surfing on a college campus before coming to wrenbury. lives in fear of her ex and his gang who are still looking for her. haunted by the specter of her mother, imagining she is devastated to see how far her harlot daughter has fallen from grace. ))

> PERSONALITY / FAST FACTS.

pleasant. gentle. hazy. airy. strange. erratic. passive. flighty. compassionate, but unreliable.

the usual refrain you’ll hear is, “SHE’S NOT ‘ALL THERE.’” sandra mostly comes across as dreamy or dazed out. you might assume that extreme levels of stress and substance abuse have fried her brain, and she might agree with you, but don’t be so sure. there is a part of her that prefers to buy into that story and assure herself that she’s too disconnected with reality to process it. and she’s willing to stay as high as a hot air balloon to make it convincing.

she zones in and out during conversation, absent-mindedly wanders into places she shouldn’t be while lost in thought, and tends to lose track of time or forget important things, like curfews or notices of restricted areas. she has a mind that can muse a mile a minute, and she tries to keep it busy with innocuous thought tangents about what type of flower a person would be, rather than focusing to what the person tells her about the latest murder, for fear of ruining her vibes and falling into a panicked spiral.

she grows flowers, spices, and herbal plants all over her cabin, taking advantage of the rustic life to relive her childhood of making homemade teas and incense. she has yet to ask if marnie and regina mind all of the aromas and dirt she brings into their common area.

she views sex as something that’s casually transactional. might get confused or even suspicious if you do her a favor without accepting a lay in return.

wrenbury and its glitching borders have fanned the flame of her lack of faith in her own sanity, and made her unsure of what to believe with regards to the killers. she tries to take the word of the townspeople over her fellow campers.

the kind of person who you might see sway-dancing like a twin peaks character, stopping in her tracks to stare at a caterpillar on a tree trunk, sticking her hand out of a moving car’s window and surfing it in the breeze, or praying only when she thinks no one’s looking---and if you look close, you might catch a tear streaming down her face while she does so.

she still has a trace of purity to her that most people don��t pick up on until they outright find out about her religious upbringing. she comes off as an eccentric wallflower sitting in a circle with the stoners at a party; not unfriendly, but not the person to start the conversation; doesn’t instigate the orgy but she certainly keeps up. innocent but not inexperienced. very good at maintaining lucidity just long enough to escape any witnesses when she’s having a bad trip.

some sandy carroll pinterest boards created by myself and my friends: (i), (ii), (iii), (iv).

> WANTED CONNECTIONS.

friends, especially people with easygoing personalities. someone who can make her feel comfortable enough to have more sober conversations. people who buy from her (she’s currently carrying cocaine, ecstasy, and acid). enemies (could be on the grounds of sandy being twee, inconsiderate, or a liability). a disinterested person for her to have a crush on even though they wouldn’t notice if she was hacked up by one of the killers. a kinder person with a crush on her that she’ll never pick up on.

hookups~ sandy is pansexual and doesn’t realize that she’s been traumatized by years of sexual coercion, so she consents to a lot of bad ideas, and is still conditioned into the mindset that it’s something you use to pay gratitude to people for being nice to you.

someone she met from the college she was squatting at, especially if they’re a hippie who brought up wrenbury when they were having a stoned dorm room conversation about wanting to move off the grid.

someone, either from or hired by the gang, who was sent to track her down and collect her debt and is now trapped in wrenbury with her 👀 :GRIM_REAPER_EMOJI:

#finalgirlintro

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loki-godofmischief-myking · 5 years

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Love Is For The Foolish (8)

Loki x Asgardian!Reader

Warning: Mild Suggestive Content

<== Previous | Next ==>

Chapter 8: King Loki

Loki awoke to the contrasting feeling of warm flesh against his. Your soft embrace was always ideal for comforting him. It was all the more effective when you were unclad and spent from a night of passionate copulation. He began gently running his fingers through your silken tresses as your arm draped lazily over his torso.

As dawn broke Loki thought only of you. How you had accepted him despite his mischevious reputation, his lies, his history of conquering women... Now you had forgiven him for taking advantage of your powers.

He was King of Asgard.

Finally, he had claimed that he had been raised to believe was his birthright. As fate would have it his true birthright was similar with only the difference of realms.

You had recklessly accepted his newest and truest form as a frost giant, an abandoned Jotun prince. He had never known it was possible to feel so loved. Sometimes he felt he did not deserve you.

In your slumber, your arm finally fell to your side setting him free.

Loki did not hesitate to immediately guide your arm back onto him. “Thankfully I am a selfish man,” he muttered into your hair simultaneously kissing the top of your head.

You hummed contently cuddling closer into him now only half-asleep. “How am I to get a proper amount of rest when you keep me up so late only to wake me when the sun begins to rise?”

“If it were up to me you would never have a moment’s peace. I’d have you writhing with pleasure every waking moment.”

“How tempting,” you mused all the while your fingers drew the familiar patterns of his Jotun markings onto his chest. You had memorized them by now. “However there are urgent matters to attend to this morning.”

Loki smirked catching your painful expression when a jolt of pain caught you by surprise upon attempting to stand. He had purposely postponed easing your pain.

You cursed his name but the pain had you voicing his name in almost a seductive moan due to the near-crippling ache that began at your thighs and shot up to your core. By morning Loki would usually have you feeling only a mild discomfort- after all, what was the point of claiming you if no reminder was left.

It had been some time since you were the target of his mischief. He felt you needed to be reminded of not only his love but his essence as well. “How intriguing.” Loki nonchalantly got out of bed with ease using his magic to dress as he made his way around your marital bed. “My queen, goddess and master of darkness, has yet to surpass the basics of healing.”

You scoffed before looking up at him with a smirk. He enjoyed the image of you on your knees a bit too much in your opinion. “Let us see how jovial my King is at the end of the week when he has been denied all carnal pleasures.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is a promise.”

You bit down on your bottom lip suppressing the boundless urge to wince as you stood. Your hips were riddled with bruises from an overly zealous husband., bruises you planned to conceal with one of your finest dresses. And although you hated to us magic for such menial tasks you lacked the capacity to physically dress yourself.

Loki sighed giving in to you. “One neither of us would benefit from.” He intended to relieve you of all discomfort from the very beginning. But, not before evoking a final whimper from your lips after having harshly pulled you in by the waist.

Your grip on his shoulders loosened as you recovered. “Why must you always get a rise out of me?”

“Because I love you,” Loki kissed you. HIs tongue prying your lips open far too in need to give you a sweet loving kiss. “Your voice, the sounds that pass these heavenly lips...” his index and middle finger brushed the plush of your bottom lip before kissing you once more. “Are absolutely sinful.”

“Just as the man who invokes them.”

Everything seemed right in your world until the day you were confronted by Sif with extremely alarming information. “Are all of you in agreement about such blasphemy against your King?”

“With all due respect Lady Y/N-” Hogun stopped when he was elbowed in the gut by Fandrall. His friend reminded him you were no longer to be addressed this way but he did not care to correct himself when they were facing a crisis. Besides, as of late you seemed to be just as content as Loki. They could no longer trust you if you too were benefitting from Thor’s banishment. “The only person worthy to rule with the Allfather in Odinsleep is Prince Thor.”

You did not take kindly to his words or his actions when he stormed off. To some extent Loki’s paranoia was justifiable. He had warned you that some may question his rule. Even going as far to single out Sif and ask that you keep watch of her. “Lady SIf?”

Sif sighed, “Look princess it is time to rid yourself of the bind that blinds you.” There was no doubt you were an honest and powerful person but your loyalty, while a formidable quality, stood to be your greatest flaw. “Your love for Loki shields you from the truth. He may be loyal to you but he is not honest. He has always been jealous of Thor. His mastery of magic makes him the only one capable of sneaking Frost Giants past Heimdall.”

Eyes shifted as you recoiled in the guilt of her false accusations. It was your magic, your dark seidr, that allowed the Frost Giants undetectable passage. Had you been more careful in not allowing him to venture off with it, had they known it was meant as harmless entertainment for Loki who was bitter about being overlooked. You sighed knowing they would not care to see it your way. To them, Loki’s mischief was nothing short of tactless. "I assure you Lady Sif, I assure all of you,” Your eyes narrowed in on them as a collective as your shadow spread out from under you. The darkness engulfed the entirety of the floor which they stood on keeping their feet planted to the ground unable to move any limbs. “I am not my husband’s marionette. Loki is King whether you agree to it or not, his mother, Queen Frigga entrusted him with the title. If you dare commit treason, Loki will not be the master of magic you must fear.”

Hogun returned when his companions failed to meet him.

Your eyes landed on him, the dark instantly following your line of sight. Going beyond your warning with Hogun by making him kneel.

Hogun tried to resist it but it was futile. Volstagg and Fandrall shared a look of alarm towards their companion but similarly were unable to ambulate towards him.

“I’ll have my eyes on you all.” You turned your back to them before rescinding your shadow and revoking your hold on them. You did not order it but it was without saying that they were dismissed.

Lady Sif was the only one to delay her leave. She was left horrified by your unrelenting loyalty to the god of mischief. “He refused our request to lift Thor’s banishment.”

You remained unmoved already knowing about their meeting with Loki. Although he did not specify the entirety of the discussion with you- it was enough to know he had his reasons. Personally, you did not agree with his decision. Thor had been nothing but open and kind with you. “May I remind you Odin was the one to banish Thor, not Loki.”

Sif was not one to be silenced. “Do you know where he is?”

Your head turned slightly so you may glance over your shoulder at the female warrior.

The action was telling of your response. Although you would never tell her of Loki’s doing you would certainly assert yourself. The lack of denial was also constant with her assessment of you. Despite how enamored you were with Loki, how you had begun to mimic his actions, and now abilities- you were still honest. “You can not lie, your highness.”

As soon as the throne room doors shut you stomped your foot on the ground with a loud groan. The emotions you had been bottling up finally overcame you. The action caused a small tremor in the palace that everyone felt. Some ran out with worry to question what it was while others simply dismissed it.

“Seems our queen is just as unstable.”

\\\

You had been here many times before, watching the Alfather in such a vulnerable state filled you with question. He always seemed like someone who would never-

Frigga watched you silently look on at Odin. There was clearly something on your mind and she would interrupt those thoughts so you may share with her. “What troubles you, my dear?”

“I suppose I still can not wrap my mind around it all.” For one, you were still unclear about Odinsleep but that was the least of your troubles. Lately, Loki seemed less like himself spending a vast majority of his time secluding himself from you. You got the feeling Loki was not where he said he would be.

She got up to sit beside you, placing her hand atop yours on your lap she smiled. “Thank you.” When you stood to question she silenced you and continued with her “Thank you for helping Loki through such difficult times. I know it was a lot to ask of you.”

Frigga had only heard good things about you from the maids and guards in passing. You had managed to handle her day to day affairs so she may focus on tending to her husband.

“I only hope I can do everything half as good as you Allmother. I always knew you did much for the people of Asgard but in my short time as-”

“Queen, do not hesitate on your title.”

You sighed letting all the accumulating stress take its toll. “I hesitate greatly because I do not think I deserve it.”

“I’ve never known you to diminish your worth. What has you questioning yourself?”

You did not want to disclose your meeting with Sif and the warriors three or the fact that they questioned Loki’s rule. Or the more pressing matter- that you were harboring guilt for playing part in Loki’s secret portal.

Thankfully you did not have to. A maid came looking for you at that precise moment providing you with a means to drop the conversation. “Pardon the intrusion Allmother,” the maid curtseyed to Frigga. “But your Highness is urgently needed.”

That was your queue to will all previous troubles from being shown and get back to the task of running a realm. You and Frigga exchanged a knowing look where you promised to visit again.

Frigga knew it wasn’t right to let you leave like this. She held both your hands in hers offering a few words to calm your ever-growing worries. “I trust you to make your own decisions.”

Her words resonated within you the day Loki froze Heimdall and sent The Destroyer to Midgard. His actions seemed far more extreme than they should have been.

He had shouted orders for you to be taken away after you continued to argue over his actions.

“Loki stop this!”

Loki sparred a momentary glance in your direction otherwise he remained unmoved atop his throne. “This does not concern you Y/N now listen and go with the guards.”

The guards apologized as they took hold of your arm trying to lead you out.

You used their own shadows to pin them in place while you stepped past them. Loki wanted you to blindly follow him but you would do no such thing. He had yet to tell you of his trips outside the realm- something told you this was all related.

“If you do not stop The Destroyer- I will!” You whipped your hair back over your shoulders when you turned your back to him.

The guards were individually released as you passed them by. They dared not so much as look at Loki after witnessing your quarrel.

Loki slammed his hands down on throne causing a loud bang to echo off the walls. “You will do no such thing!”

Although his outburst did startle you there was no looking back. In fact, you walked faster carelessly grabbing your skirt to the point where you were permanently creasing the beautiful glittering material with your strength. The regal appearance you had been trying to uphold until now was broken.

Too deep in thought you were unable to react in time when Loki suddenly appeared before you. You stepped on your dress as you crashed into his open arms.

Irritated and annoyed by the oversight your hands lay on his chest pushing him away. “Let go of me!” you demanded but his arms remained restraints around you. He was much stronger than he looked and you much smarter.

You let your body go limp feigning to accept you had come to a dead-end in your revolt against him. “Why Loki? Why must you go to such extremes?” It was hard however you managed to conjure up some tears. Preying on your husband’s love for you, you sought his comfort.

Loki’s hold loosened thinking he had hurt you in his bid to stop you from ruining his plans.

This was your chance and you seized it. You freed your hands, held his face in them to bring him eye level with you. “I need to know,” you pressed your forehead against his in a bid to read his mind.

HIs mind was vulnerable in this chaotic state. You managed to see what he had done, the lies he told to Thor. His entire trip to Midgard was at your mercy. When you began to see Jotunheim and Laufey he did something he never thought he would do.

Loki stabbed you.

The pain immediately brought you back to face the present Loki with a gasp of pain. You held your side where Loki’s dagger remained. Far worse was the pain you felt in your chest of betrayal. “Loki-”

Loki was just as shocked by his actions.

The pain was like nothing you had ever felt before. You had been stabbed at your side yet the pain felt as if it originated elsewhere. Where you could not say. You cursed your inability to heal yourself once again when you felt faint.

Loki caught you before you could fall. He held you tightly as he teleported you to your bed. There he worked in deafening silence to heal you.

Through half-lidded eyes, you managed to see the conflict of panic and anger on your raven-haired King’s face. You felt the roughness of his dry lips graze your cheek and forehead multiple times. His bottom lip had been victim to his anger transforming his once soft lips.

He was clearly remorseful of his actions but you did not doubt that part of him felt successful. He had healed you, put you out of danger’s way yet you felt drained of all energy.

“Rest my Queen,” Loki placed a final kiss to your velvety lips. The memory of having purposely inflicted pain upon the woman he loved would haunt him for the rest of his life. However, he had managed to stop you from running towards danger.

The Jotuns and Laufey were due to arrive soon as per Loki’s plans, he had to make sure you were safe. He had to keep you away from them or anyone who would harm you. He knew how hypocritical a thought it was yet he stood by it.

“You’ll be safe here.”

-end-

A/N: Yeah so... did you see that coming? Also, thank you so much to those of you who asked to be on my Tag List!

Tag List: @drakesfiance @sweetacp @fyeahlitaajpunk @cosmicsskies

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nln4 · 5 years

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Burnout - a sidestep fic

Characters: Sidesteps - Mikoto Uehara and @ratastrofiend‘s Jace Paris Word Count: 1342 Rating: T for turned down, tw: notions of self-harm, spoilers for fallen hero: retribution

It’s the first day you’ve managed to get more than a couple minutes of sleep after the absolute fiasco that was the casino break in. You had taken Dr. Mortum’s gun, managed to release a monster and to top it all off, didn’t even get what you went for, as you relinquished the regenerator plans to Lady Argent. All of that careful planning, ruined for a moment of softness. The fear has been eating at your heart; you’re looking over your shoulder for signs of the Catastrofiend everywhere you go and your mind is frazzled. Whatever moments of sleep you’ve had lately have been little, and you can’t remember your dreams, only vague feelings of uneasiness and a dizzying array of colors. Of someone watching you. There’s laughter, but you don’t know why.

Which is why when you find yourself in front of an apartment door, you have a sinking feeling you know who’s on the other side. The door is sleek and metallic, with a panel for a passcode lock but there’s no visible doorbell, so you resort to knocking, the clanging sound carrying down the empty hallway.

The door opens and he’s standing there, arms folded, eyebrows raised. The expression he wears is as impenetrable as ever, cool black gaze staring you down.

“Please let me in.” Your voice is hoarse and you finally notice that you’re shivering, shaking with exhaustion.

“This is hardly a place for strays,” he says dryly, stepping aside and you follow after him. The door shuts behind you with a soft click and you walk past him through the hallway leading to the familiar gleaming marble and granite sitting area. It’s darker than normal with the fireplace barely flickering and you wonder if you had interrupted his sleep but he doesn’t strike you as the sort who sleeps regularly. He just keeps going, fueled by pure chaotic energy and his own dark design.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” you say, trying to keep your voice light but failing miserably.

You turn on your heel and there he is, right there and you wonder what it must feel like to be able to hold his head high, to be able to push through and not care about anything other than what benefits him, to hold so much pride in everything he does without the guilt dragging him down. To exude so much confidence like an armor that it would protect him from almost anything.

So you close the distance and pull him into a kiss, and if he’s surprised, it doesn’t show. He only pulls you closer, one hand on your waist, the other sliding behind your neck to tilt your head back, deepening it. It’s harsh and violent, with too much teeth and no kindness. The stud piercing on his tongue is a different sensation altogether as it slides against the roof of your mouth, and you want to lose yourself, willing yourself to feel anything other than the confusion and frustration that’s piled up over the past few days. Or past few months. Years, really.

Your hands slide up his arms, down the front of his chest, relishing the hard planes of muscles underneath your palms and you’re jealous, because now you wonder what it must be like to be physically imposing both inside and outside of the villain armor, to not be afraid of standing out in a crowd instead of always hiding away behind your mental shields.

To be able to leap without looking and landing perfectly, to not lose yourself in paranoia so much that you can’t move at all.

To feel anything, anything at all beyond empty loneliness, and you must be broadcasting your thoughts because he immediately stops and draws back, holding both of your wrists in a vice-like grip, the rings on his fingers digging viciously into your skin.

Good, you think. Pain. That’s a start.

“No, not good,” he says out loud, dark eyes roaming your face. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or should I return the assault and dig it out of your mind? Thanks, by the way.”

You can’t answer quite yet, breathing so raggedly since your lungs are still trying to catch up with you. I didn’t think you would mind, you think.

“That you’re using me for whatever dumb reason you’re stuck on?” The smile on his face may be polite but his tone is menacing. “If you want to hurt that badly, go jump out a window or something.”

You feel your eyes welling up and you have to train your gaze down at the white marble tiles because you refuse, you absolutely refuse to cry in front of him. Because if he doesn’t want you, doesn’t that just mean it’s a sick twisted way of saying you don’t want yourself? And who would, with you being like this, you wonder.

“No, you idiot,” he says, releasing your hands to swipe away a stray tear dripping down your face with his thumbs. “You’re just a spoiled brat who throws tantrums when you don’t get your way.”

“Maybe,” you hiccup. Yes, you think grudgingly, because it’s true.

“And if you want me, it would be because you chose it, out of your own free will,” he says, tipping your chin up so that you’re looking at him. “Not like this. Do you understand?”

You nod, wordless, voice caught in your throat. Everything is falling apart, you think. Impossible to fix.

“Sometimes things don’t pan out,” he continues, now placing his hands on your shoulders, forcing you a step backwards, away from him. “I mean, for you, not for me. But you pick yourself up. Isn’t that what you did years ago? When you fell? When you escaped? You and I both rose from the dead, didn’t we? Impossible is just what we do.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you say quietly, voice still shaking like you’ve just gotten over a bad bout of sickness. And you have to admit, except for that moment of madness that overtook you earlier, you feel much lighter than you have in days. “Can we, uh, just pretend earlier didn’t happen?”

He grins evilly, sharp canines glinting in the firelight. “Nope. I will personally never let you live this down. And,” he adds dangerously, giving you a sharp flick to the forehead, in which you let out a yelp in protest, “you definitely don’t ever get to use me. That’s not how things work around here.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing the spot on your head. “I’m sorry.” I guess even the great Paris has feelings, you think.

“Of course I do,” he sneers. “Just not for you.”

But he gives you a gentle pat to the top of your head, hand lingering for a bit before he walks away to his room, coming back with the same Dobermans from last time. You hold out a hand cautiously for them to sniff and they push their muzzles into your hands, giving you curious sniffs and dainty licks. From your experience, dogs don’t quite have the exact thoughts that people do, but you get the same feeling of intense pride from these two exquisite creatures as you do from their master.

“Yes, you two lovely ladies will keep this little bee company while I work,” he says, giving them thorough pats and scritches behind the ears. “Won’t you?”

You both settle on opposite ends of the couch; you’re cuddled up with the dogs, giving them them pets every so often (to which he scoffs, disapproving with the way you’re handling them/”You’re messing up their coats, I just brushed them.”). The only sound in the room is him typing away on a laptop but otherwise, it’s a comfortable silence.

You don’t sleep, so you keep watch out the window over the hours, watching the night sky fade to blues. Sunrise tints the entire room in soft pinks and then everything turns vibrant gold.

And in the light, you can’t keep your eyes off him.

#fallen hero: rebirth #sidestep #mikoto uehara #jace paris #tw: depression #fallen hero retribution spoilers

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lakinda5654 · 5 years

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~~~~A Girl and A God~~~~ Chapter 5- Beautifully Broken

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A Girl and A God is a RATED M Loki Fanfic with an original character, Alexa, who is taken in by Tony Stark after the revelation of abilities of her own. There’s sex, romance, heartbreak, action, fluff, angst, all that good stuff. Full description in blog, and a jump-to-chapter list if you just want the smut or the cuteness bits. Enjoy <3

Chapter Summary: Alexa reveals her backstory to the mysterious man she just met...

Contains: recalling of trauma, imprisonment, backstory development

Word Count: 1,709

~Previous Chapter~~Next Chapter~

~~Beginning of Story~~

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This man had the most beautifully broken soul that Alexa had ever seen. Since he walked in she could feel it. He was clever. The most clever she had ever seen. He had problems with his family, she could see that too, but not place exactly what they were. He was calloused. The walls he built to protect himself were weaved of sarcasm and hatred and greed. But she also saw the good in him. How much he loved to have fun. How he craved it when stuck with those who didn’t understand him. And most importantly, she saw he was lonely… he saw himself as a monster.

Just like me. She thought.

“So what happened?” He asked in a tone that was tired of waiting. Then his tone changed to irritation. “and how could you tell it was an illusion? With captain justice eagle?”

She smiled at his comment, admiring his outer beauty as well as his humor. His jet black hair and striking green eyes, and how his green, black, and gold clothing fit him so well. Her smile faded when she processed his question. “It’s a long story.”

As she was about to begin revealing her life’s secret to this demigod, the door screeched open, drawing both of their eyes to it. A tray of food slid in on the floor. Then it shut.

“I do suppose you are hungry?” Loki said, pulling his eyes back to her. He’d spoken in an irritated tone, thinking that food would only make this take longer. Alexa nodded. With a flick of his wrist, the tray slid across the floor to her. She grinned and immediately began indulging herself in the bread and cheese on the tray.

So she told him. She explained the incident in the woods when she was 6 in all the detail she could, and told him of her powers.

“For whatever reason, they correspond with the moon phases. That’s how I know what one I’m expecting next.” She explained. Then hesitantly continued. “ but when there’s a full moon, I know it sounds stupid like I��m a werewolf or something, but it’s true. I lose control of them. Not in my mind, but physically.” She explained. “Like I’ll sneeze and the power could go out. Or a paper in front of me could light on fire. And on the full moon, it seems that I have all of them. Every other moon phase there’s just one, but on the full moon it’s all of them and I can’t control them all at once…” She became somber and looked down. “that’s what happened. I was trying to control it but the older I get it seems more difficult. Like they get more and more powerful” she said. “My family…”

She was starting to cry. “My foster family took me in years ago. They had been so kind and loving. The system is shit, but this family was good- for the most part. I was a lucky one. They were the only family I ever really had because my birth mother died when I was born and my father hated me for it, so he became abusive and drank too much. Someone heard me yelling so I was taken away from him and given to my foster family. I loved it there, there were other kids to play with and I could play outside, and they made me feel so loved. But…” Alexa took a deep breath. “once I started having these powers as a child, the parents were disappointed in me. They always hated the Avengers, believing that God or Jesus are the only ones who should have power, and any other presentation of inhuman power comes from Satan.” She explained delicately. “They told me I was unlovable if I stayed this way. That they used to love me but look what I’d become. They told me I was garbage, that I was weak for succumbing to temptation. And I believed every word. My powers only kept getting stronger so they kept becoming more and more disgusted with me.” She was quiet for a moment, trying to compose herself. “That night was a full moon and they had hired someone to… fix me...” she kept avoiding Loki’s gaze, knowing it would make her tears spill over to see someone who might actually care. “Like an exorcist or something. That’s why I hadn't eaten for three days, they wanted me weak. They kept trying to grab me. My family and the man they hired. I kept burning their hands as they touched me, and that only fueled their Satanic theory. I wasn’t trying to. I was just not in control…” she stumbled on her words. “then the man pulled out chains. They tried to shackle me and they were yelling and I was screaming for them to stop. They wouldn’t listen, and… then I… I just…”

She made an exploding gesture with her hands. “Everything was destroyed when I opened my eyes and then I passed out”

Loki was looking at her tenderly, with more surprise than pity. He remained quiet for a moment, then spoke. “So your powers correspond with the Midguardian moon?”

She was grateful that he didn’t press more on the story from that night. “Midguardian?” She looked at him confused. Loki rolled his eyes “Earthen. Whatever you want to call it”

Alexa nodded. “Yes, from what I can tell. Each phase, waning, and waxing, is a different power. And they fade from one to another. The only different ones are when there’s a full moon I have all of them at once, and when there’s a new moon I have none.” She stated. “Oh, and one other thing. When I’m in the moonlight it appears as if I am, like, charging. When I go out in the night for a while my veins get sort of glowy and I will not need to sleep for 3 days afterward. I can just stay awake with no issue.” She said. “I can sleep if I want, but I only need to if I can’t get to moonlight.”

Loki raised his eyebrows in interest. “Alright,” he said, trying to think of the next question to ask. “What are each of your powers?”

“Well, this is the first one after the full moon, I call it soul sight” she explained. “That’s the one I have now, the one that made me know your “captain justice shield” wasn’t real. I can sense all of the souls around me and see into them. All the fears, feelings, and dreams and pain, everything.” She explained. When he came in, I felt nothing.”

Realizing that his feeling of vulnerability when she looked at him wasn’t just paranoia made Loki more nervous. She could see him for what he was. He stirred uncomfortably.

Alexa noticed. “Don’t worry. I can’t see details, just general feelings or energies and I never share anything that I see with anyone else. In fact when I’m like this most of the time I lock myself away so that I don’t invade anyone’s privacy.” She said quietly.

There was a pause before she continued. “So that’s the phase called waning gibbous. The one after it is called last quarter. Also called a half-moon. During that I have powers related to heat or fire” She explained. “I can make fire with the snap of my fingers, or lightning even, or make my skin too hot to touch…” she looked down remembering that night, but quickly regained focus.

“Then there’s the waning crescent. During that, I can transform into other things. Anything I want”

Loki for a moment felt irritated that someone other than him had the ability to shapeshift as if someone had stepped into his territory.

He kept listening skeptically.

“Then there’s the new moon when I have nothing. After that, it’s the waxing crescent. During that, I can move things with my mind, like you did with the tray.”

Another of his abilities in this girl. He didn’t like it. Not at all.

She could sense his feeling of jealousy, but she decided to act like she didn’t. If he knew she could tell it would likely only anger him more.

She continued delicately. “After that, it’s the first quarter, as the other half moon. During that, I have powers of water and coldness. The last one is waxing gibbous. That one allows me to fly.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“Not like Stark does, not as controlled. It’s like I lose all personal gravity. Like I swim through the air and I can go through walls.” She explained with a grin. “That one is really quite fun.” She wasn’t used to being able to openly speak of her powers… much less used to having someone accept what she said and not look at her like she belonged in a mental hospital. She then felt overwhelmed with guilt, knowing how her now-deceased family would have disowned her for talking of her powers with any tinge of excitement.

There was a pause as his green eyes looked into her blues, waiting for more. “And that’s it,” she shrugged. “After that, it’s a full moon and I’ve already told you about that. And then the cycle repeats itself”

He paused and then looked up at the camera. She looked at him and glanced at the camera as well. The door opened, turning both of their heads to it.

Tony walked in, wearing normal clothes instead of his suit. “Wanna stay in here or come out and meet the rest?” He said looking at her. Loki realized he should get up and walk for the door. He did, but something in him made him hesitate at the exit. Whatever it was, he shoved it down and walked out the door.

Alexa watched him as he left and then directed her attention to Tony.

“Are you going to experiment on me?” She asked with a tinge of fear in her voice.

“Not without your consent”

She paused and looked at him. He was telling the truth. Soul sight gave her that ability as well.

“Okay.” she stood up and walked out of the open door Mr. Stark held for her.

#Loki #lokilove #lokioc #loki fanfiction #lokifanfiction #loki feels #lokicute #A Girl and A God #Fanfiction #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki x oc

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missinnocentscarlet-archived2 · 5 years

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Scarlet’s Philosophy on Evil and her Curse

Reposting this here from my previous blog. Under the cut because it’s long.

Scarlet is not truly cursed, but she honestly believes she is. Following her mother’s death, her father instilled the idea into her, and Tristan’s death only solidified in her mind that this was not a coincidence. She does not think of herself as 100% evil, though. She can fall into a head space where she slips into those darker thoughts, as I’m sure most people with paranoia, anxiety, and depression can all relate to, as we logically know we are not evil/bad/worthless/etc., but we still slip into that mindset where we feel that way about ourselves. Scarlet does not believe people are born evil, but can be predisposed to it, and/or develop to be evil. There is always a cause or reason.

The death of her mother and her friend were not purposeful, yet they caused some others to see Scarlet as evil/cursed/etc. She believes she is cursed, and a murderer, but because she had no control over their deaths, she does not see herself as truly evil. Despite this, she has no desire to debate against these rumors. Nothing good would come from that; telling others you are not evil would only paint the picture that you are safe, which is not true in her case. So she instead wears the label bestowed upon her as a shield in an attempt to keep others at bay.

Due to this, Scarlet often relates to the monsters in movies, books, and fairy tales. Those who technically did not do or mean any harm, but due to their differences or ability to do wrong, they are outcast, or even hurt being who they are, and this abuse is what causes them to retaliate, and become exactly what others were calling them all along: dangerous and evil. She especially loves Frankenstein, a story which in her mind is of a monster driven to horrific acts as a result of his creator’s neglect and abuse. The Shape of Water holds a special place in her heart, as that is one of the few stories in which the monster gets a happy ending, Although she knows falling in love is not what her ending will be, she still strives for the happiest ending possible for her.

Unbeknownst to her, though, is that her father actually does regret what he did. He has since gotten help for his mental instability, and wishes to rekindle his relationship with his daughter. He knows he may never get custody back, and quite frankly doesn’t want to in fear that he will relapse and hurt her again, but he realized how wrong he was to cast aside his daughter that his wife loved and cherished so much that she died for her. She did not die because of Scarlet, but rather for her, and he immensely regrets hammering in the wrong message into his child’s thoughts.

So Scarlet lives wearing the title of the cursed, evil orphan, only drawing people in for business and nothing else, while having the goal of at the very least being content with her life. She wishes to make something of herself, refusing to die and give up so that the deaths that follow her were not in vain.

#[ 🌹 | opening up means trusting others { HEADCANONS } ]

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theoriesoflove-old · 5 years

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What’s Meant To Be

Spoilers for Bravely Second, as well as a few for Bravely Default!

He wasn’t coming back, was he?

She hadn’t let her mind drift in that direction for weeks, solely for the fact that she didn’t have time to do so. Edea knew now just how busy her father had been as the Grand Marshal; it was no wonder he was so eager to move out into the middle of a forest with her mother and essentially become a hermit for a while.

But tonight she lay in bed, unable to collapse into a dreamless slumber from exhaustion, and thus those doubts and anxieties of hers had started to rear their ugly little heads.

Ringabel.

She turned her head to stare at the small table on the side of her room where his journal lay and winced as her heart seemed to physically hurt.

He had been so close. He had been there – in her arms, in their tent, standing beside her! – and now he was not. He was gone again, whisked off to who-knew-where.

He had promised he would always be beside her, but he was a poor liar. Maybe that was why he’d donned Alternis’s full set of armor when he returned.

Thinking back on it all, she understood why he hadn’t outright announced himself. Still, the hurt remained and would remain just as long as it had when he first left. Crystals, she should have stopped him then! Should have pleaded with him to stay. What was the reason again? ‘Tying up loose ends’?

She had assumed that once they had returned to their worlds, there would be no way to travel between them. She had assumed his ‘loose ends’ would be running back to his home world to save his Edea, and take his place as Alternis Dim once more. At the time, it didn’t seem possible he could ever return – and yet, she let him go. Because that was the whole reason everything started in the first place, wasn’t it? Why would she keep him here?

Edea turned on her side, fingers curling into the mattress.

She wanted him to stay but talked herself out of it. She thought she had accepted the thought of never seeing him again. She was wrong.

Now, again, she found herself with the opportunity to see and plead with him not to leave. This time, she did – and it didn’t make any difference.

Deep down, despite asking him to tell her he was back, she knew that it wasn’t true. Hearing him say those words – she knew something was wrong when he hesitated – was little comfort, but comfort all the same. She played back his words in her head as often as she could, reassuring herself they were true…

And felt her heart shatter again as he vanished with a friendly farewell wave into a flash of light.

With a soft growl of frustration, Edea sat up and hugged her knees. “Stupid Ringabel…”

How dare anyone make the Grand Marshal of the Duchy of Eternia cry. When she saw him next, she’d…

Cherish the few moments we have. Scream at him for being insensitive. Plead with him not to leave again. Destroy that stupid teleporter. Maybe tie him to a column in Central Command.

Blinking back tears, she looked up and around the shadows of her room. She could remember forcing Alternis to play dolls with her once – just once, because he’d been so disturbed by the game he avoided her for weeks afterward – and wondered if that world’s Edea had done the same to him. Wondered if he still loved her and if he could tell the difference between them at all.

Years ago, she would have torn herself up about the fact that she had simply been a replacement for the girl he actually loved. But knowing what she did today, knowing he hadn’t gone back to simply live out his role, she didn’t know what to think. Had he left that Edea waiting, too?

Or was she waiting at all, considering she only saw him as Alternis Dim?

A pang of guilt stabbed at her heart at the thought. That wasn’t right of her. Out of everyone, Alternis seemed to get the short end of the whole situation. Despite how eye-roll-worthy he could be at times, Edea knew he cared about her a lot. Personally, it felt more like an immature teenage boy’s infatuation, which is why she tended to rebuff it so impatiently, but still…his heart was in the right place. Even if it was a weird place.

But how would he feel if he learned how much she cared for Ringabel? To have your otherworld counterpart chosen over you…especially after everything he’d been through, especially after he always did tend to stay by her side… (although, that was what she felt like when she thought he’d one back to his world, wasn’t it?)

Sometimes she just felt so…guilty. There was a part of her that was adamant about her personal happiness but knew she couldn’t be that selfish. She couldn’t just say ‘well, too bad Alternis Dim!’. That was cruel. And she had been cruel to him enough.

With a sigh, she accepted that she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight and slipped out of bed to make her way towards the window. The frost on the glass had formed fragmented patterns that looked akin to little leaves of ice branching out in a million different directions.

Is this what everything looks like now? She wondered, tracing the patterns with a fingertip.All those worlds connected through the Holy Pillar. And the Celestial Realm, where does that fit? And the Moon?

If every Luxendarc had a Moon hunting Ba’als, and every Luxendarc had a Celestial Realm as to where they came, and where in the world did fairies like Airy and Anne come from, and…?

Ugh. She was giving herself a headache just trying to wrap her mind around it.

But what if they all collide? What if every monster and terrible thing from those other worlds decide to attack this one?

And now she was freaking herself out.

She dropped her hand and stared past the frost out over the mountains instead, where Eternia’s lights lingered in the distance. No matter what her title said, she was more than just the ruler of the Duchy. She was the overseer of the other kingdoms, too, the primarily military presence and diplomatic representative to both the Orthodoxy and the Empire. She…had a lot of subjects to look after, if not directly order around.

She was only twenty. That was a lot of responsibility on her shoulders.

Yes, she had Alternis. Yes, she had her parents she could go to for comfort. Yes, she had countless others she could rely on for advice and counsel. Agnes, Magnolia, Yew… she even had Tiz now (although, she wanted to disturb the shepherd and his pope-wife’s newlywed days as little as possible if she could help it…just for a few weeks)!

But it was Edea who would be remembered for her actions as Grand Marshal. She would be the name in the history books, not her advisers. Any successes and failures would be labeled as hers and hers alone.

She wondered how Yew’s father and grandfather felt sometimes, knowing what they had done, knowing how they would be remembered. Despite that, they had followed through with their ideals to the end, right?

Maybe all we can do is hope for the best.

She glanced over at her father’s sword and shield, as well as the Grand Marshal’s staff she had been presented with upon his defeat. She hadn’t really done anything with them yet; her friends’ reaction to how she had grilled food in Argent Heinkel’s prized heirloom of a shield had made her second guess the decision to take them out regularly. Besides, wasn’t the lesson she had learned been about having the means to fight and defend, but aiming not to use them?

It sounded right. Father seemed happy with the answer.

But augh – this was too much to think about in one night. And it was all Ringabel’s fault.

Still… She looked back out the window. I won’t have the luxury of idle time often. There’s far too much to do to worry about so many things that are out of my control. When else will I have a moment to really sort through this stuff?

If war broke out, she would do everything in her power to stop it.

If another messed up deity threatened the world, she would fight it.

If Ringabel returned, she would welcome him back with open arms.

But if she died before that. If she wasn’t around when he was. If she found someone else before he did… Then that was just life, wasn’t it?

She had been spoiled in her first adventure, thinking that if you fought hard enough, you could change everything and right every wrong. This second one, however, showed that living in the past and trying to fix it wasn’t a good approach, either.

All we can do is work towards a better future, learn from present mistakes, and let go of past regrets.

It wasn’t as simple as that, she knew. But the more she thought about it, the more she felt confident that she could let everything go: the nightmares, the paranoia, the doubts… the fear that Ringabel would never return.

She had to have faith. After all, Tiz had returned to Agnes, hadn’t he?

If we are meant to happen, then we will. If not…then we won’t.

No matter what, she had far too many people relying on her now to waste any time pining away or being haunted by her doubts. All she could do was move forward.

#&; WORDS WRITTEN (drabble)#&; LUDUS (edea ic)#&; THE ANGEL AND THE VAGRANT (rindea)

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fogmongers · 6 years

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a l l i s o n c l o v e r S A N D R A C A R R O L L . unenrolled. dorm couch surfer. psychedlics dealer. tramp. freelance sugar baby. dropped angel.

grew up in the underbelly of chicago, raised by a well-meaning but fatally over-protective single mother, who tried to shield her daughter from the grit and grime that covered every square inch of their community.

as a child, allison clover was kept busy at all costs, distracted by a wallpapering of catholicism from the influence of her peers and the sordid history of her mother. she was brought up in the church; socializing primarily within the church’s community, playing on the church’s softball team, participating in the church’s charity events and helping to organize the church’s fundraisers.

she and her mother ran an online business selling homemade incense, candles, and teabags from herbs and spices grown right in their apartment. it was just enough to help keep the lights on when her mother’s job at the plant nursery couldn’t cut it. this is to say: a young, naive allison wouldn’t have much in realm of inheritance when she would need it.

shortly after ally’s 18th birthday, her mother was killed in an assault.

gang initiation. body mutilated. her teenage daughter had to identify the corpse.

the tragedy shattered allison’s eden--- woke her up to the nihilistic nature of the world, in which good people can die for no rhyme or reason. and it showed her the true nature of contemporary christians and their shortcomings in practicing what they preach. in the wake of ms. clover, the church community offered ally their prayers and platitudes, but no one in their lower class community had a dime to spare or room on their couches when allison needed a place to stay, every conservative bystander assuming someone else would step up to take care of her.

emotionally distraught and disappointed in her paper thin support system, allison stopped sticking around after mass and isolated herself from the community, eventually opting not to attend altogether.

the scraps of inheritance she had left after paying for a catholic funeral would not help her afford the rent. her underwhelming resume would not be enough to get her a job to support herself. too overcome with grief to manage working two jobs; with her mother deeply estranged from the rest of their family; with her long history of being isolated from her neighbors; she had nowhere to turn when she was evicted.

her naivete and lack of alternative options paved allison’s way to falling in with a bad crowd. her first night at a local shelter, she was recognized outside by a raggedy boy from her graduating class. immediately trusting, she opened up to him about her situation and vulnerability, and he was all too quick to offer her a place to stay until she got back on her feet. she never stopped to question his character or intentions.

she was fast to fall in with the boy and his band of delinquents, which she would later realize to be a gang deeply involved in several webs of drug trafficking in the city. her sheltered upbringing left her unprepared to notice red flags, and her gullibility made it easy for the kids to take advantage of her on the grounds of offering her bedrooms to stay in and spotting her meals in her hard time. when offerings of basic human necessities turned into talking her into smoking with them and bringing her along to parties, it wasn’t hard for them to pressure her into using her inexperienced body to pay her respect to their hospitality.

catholic guilt went head-to-head with disillusioned catholic angst, both raging inside her head with feelings of physical violation she didn’t have the understanding to place. in the midst of the chaos, (and as a fuel to it,) she developed a taste for the escapism. preferred to live in the haze of inebriation and work out her conflicts of spirituality with mushrooms than face her situation or her grief. but she didn’t realize she was running up a tab with her friends.

from a peer’s perspective, she picked up on their culture fast. learned the slang and the technique. gave off the impression of someone who knew what she was getting into when they started sending her to drop off and pick up, and when she was smoking herself into debts she’d never be able to repay.

after ignoring the scarier and grittier aspects of the new friends she’d made for a year, and then upsetting them when she started avoiding sex--- depriving her friends of their payment--- things came to a head after a traumatically bad trip on DMT, sending her into a serious crisis of faith and fear that her sins were becoming unforgivable, which prompted her to decide to branch out to people other than the dealers she was wasting her youth with.

when the ghouls started getting insulted by her pulling away, one of them let her know that she still owed them for all of the drugs and safety they’d given her, and when she stood her ground and put a lock on what they wanted from her, he told her she owed them at least $3,000 for their troubles before they would let her “broke, needy ass” scurry away.

in a panic for finding that kind of money in the near future and feeling a serious threat for her physical safety at the mercy of a gang of intimidating men, she opted instead to commit one last sin in the form of stealing a suitcase and backpack of drugs from the trap house and taking a bus as far out of town as she could go.

she started going by the new name SANDRA CARROLL and planned to keep moving and sell the stash of psychedelics to keep her afloat until she could start using her legal name again and get a law-abiding job, but by the time she started running out of cash for motels, she still wasn’t emotionally prepared to start dealing. she tried to go to bars to find slightly less dangerous people who would pick her up as a sugar baby and give her shelter until she was far enough and emotionally stable enough to take care of herself. the panic attacks and paranoia made it hard for her to nail a trustworthy hookup.

in a final wave of desperation, she contacted her childhood friend nate to find any kind of guidance or assistance in her situation, and he arranged for her to make a break for rainier, knowing that genie would give her a place to lay low.

genie has effective guardianship over her now, which is to say: she insists that sandy spends nights in her dorm rather than bouncing around campus, splits meals with her, loans her clothes and generally looks out for her while she’s trying to get back on her feet. but it’s genie, so she’s not exactly the most attentive mom friend, and has a tendency to enable sandy’s worst vices because she’s no hypocrite. can and will, however, absolutely wreck anyone who tries to manipulate sandy, if genie can just focus enough to notice it happening.

the generally low threat level and high libido of clients on a college campus makes it significantly easier to sandra to deal and hustle free food and beds to sleep in, which is good, because her general fear of being a burden and newfound fear of becoming indebted to people makes her try to spread herself out over the campus, rather than rely solely on genie. but the decadent nature of the students and assurances of safety on campus lead to her feeling too undistracted, too alone in her thoughts when she has time to breathe. and it’s hard for her to stay sober when everyone else is partying. at the rate she’s going, she may not have enough stock to sell to keep food in her stomach before the coast is clear and she feels she’s safe enough to be allison clover again.

(( TL;DR: sheltered church girl is ill-prepared and too naive to survive on her own when her mother dies unexpectedly; falls in with a bad crowd and loses control of her expenses and herself; steals an enormous stash of psychedelic drugs and flees chicago, going by a false name and dealing to stay just barely afloat. currently dorm surfing through mt. rainier university. ))

PERSONALITY:

pleasant. demure. distracted. passive. calm. trustworthy, but unreliable.

very somber, but doesn’t have an easily detectable sadness. very dreamy, but not too in-your-face with her eccentricity; more introverted about it or even a little insecure. the kind of person who you might see sway-dancing like a twin peaks character, or sticking her hand out of a moving car’s window and surfing it in the breeze, or praying only when she thinks no one’s looking, and if you look close you might catch a tear streaming down her face. zones in and out in the middle of conversation and feels really guilty about it. still has a trace of purity to her that most people don’t pick up on until they outright find out about her upbringing. comes off as the chill wallflower of a druggie clique; not unfriendly but not the person to start the conversation; doesn’t instigate the orgy but she’s definitely down and certainly keeps up. might seem aloof or quiet because she’s never sure if she belongs there and doesn’t want to show it and get rejected. innocent but not inexperienced. very good at maintaining lucidity just long enough to escape any witnesses when she's having a bad trip.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

hookups and clients (she deals assorted psychedelics; 90% dmt, acid, ecstasy, mushrooms). a very disinterested person for her to have a crush on even though they wouldn’t notice if she died. a kinder person with a crush on her that she’ll never pick up on. friends who smoke with her without expecting her to throw in. friends who invite her to hang out overnight without expecting anything. someone who will sleep with her for opportunistic reasons (consensual but still taking advantage of her credulity or rumors that she’ll sleep with anyone after they let her dorm with them for a little bit) or who sleeps with her without knowing that she’s effectively prostituting herself for shelter. someone who friends her twee or annoying. someone who’s suspicious of her and where she came from.

big plot: someone, either from or hired by the gang of dealers, who’s been sent to track her down and collect her debt 👀 :grim_reaper_emoji:

#╰ ☾ 🇹🇭🇪 🇨🇷🇴🇸🇸. ⛧ ━━━ sandra carroll. ╮#she is the only morally pure character i've ever written in my life wish me luck

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crimsonrevolt · 6 years

Photo

Congratulations Hope you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Molly Weasley!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

This was such a tough decision for us but your interpretation of Molly won us over! It was clear from the very first part of your application just how much you love her as a character and you gave us such a good look at your vision for her and really brought her to life. Your writing sample also gave us a clear idea of who Molly is and explored so many sides of her as well as giving us a strong idea of her role within the Order and relationships to others around her. We are very excited to have you back and cannot wait to see what journey you choose to take Molly on! *your FC change to Rose Leslie has been accepted!

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Hello, hello! My name is Hope, I prefer she/her pronouns, and I live in the EST time zone!

ACTIVITY

WELL, I’m not in a show for a while, and all in all my class load is light. I believe I’ll be reliably within a 6-7, and I’m excited and thrilled at the prospect of coming back, better than ever!

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Former player, but before that I learned about this RP from a current member!

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I’ve always been hard working and ambitious, with a drive to prove myself to people who don’t believe that I can achieve everything I want for my future. Therefore, I’ve always felt like Hermione Granger is the character I’ve related to the most.

ANYTHING ELSE?

That’s all from me, thanks darlings!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Molly Alexandra Weasley (née Prewett)

Alexandra is an ancient name, which became popularized in Europe after the thirteenth Century. It means Defender of Man, a meaning well suited to describe Molly herself.

FACE CLAIM

I prefer Rose Leslie, but Sarah Drew is a lovely alternative. Whichever you prefer!

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I’ve adored Molly as a character since the first time I read the Harry Potter series, and since her first introduction. Molly Weasley saw a boy, alone and confused at King’s Cross Station, helped him find the platform (even though she had her hands full with five children of her own), and made sure he got on the train safely. Molly Weasley couldn’t bear the thought of that little boy waking up on Christmas morning without any presents, and who, despite having her strained time and resources, knit him a jumper like her children, to make him a part of her family. Molly Weasley is the ultimate mother figure, and a guiding hand without whom Harry could not have functioned. In a story with so many orphans, and casualties of war, and so much loss and pain, Molly and Arthur’s beautiful, supportive family, and their unbreakable love for one another, is an extremely inspirational beacon of light in the community.

Molly’s motherly instincts are a driving force within her, and her archetype of The Mother is apparent in all parts of her life. Even Molly’s exceptional aptitude for healing spells show her big heart, and how much of her spirit is dedicated to taking care of others. I see Molly as an old soul, and a romantic. She reads books about true love conquering all, and strong, wise women who, despite incredible odds, overcome their circumstances to build happy lives for themselves and those they love. Molly Weasley is the type of woman who would let a friend stay at her house indefinitely, if they ever needed to get away. Molly Weasley is the type of girl who would see her classmate who came to school without a lunch, and would bring extra, so they could be fed while maintaining their dignity. While Molly is gentle and kind, she is indestructible, and a force of nature to be reckoned with when she’s been angered. Molly would drag herself over broken glass by her fingernails for her family, and is fiercely protective of anyone she takes under her wing. I see Molly as a Mother figure within the Order, looking at these young people and doing her utmost to protect them, to shield what remains of their childhoods. She is especially protective of her younger siblings, Fabian, Gideon, and Alice, whom she has spent a lifetime caring for.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

MOLLY AND ARTHUR WEASLEY ARE MY DARLINGS. I love them so much. In my opinion, Arthur has been Molly’s lifelong love, since they were housemates in school. Their marriage is an example of true love, and hard work, and compassion. Which is not to say there is no conflict, which can be elaborated on within threads!

Molly identifies as female, and it is my belief that she has far too much love in her heart for gender determine her love for someone. She uses She/Her pronouns.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-AN AESTHETIC

(extended associations!)

~ golden sunlight ~ soft music ~ wooden record players ~ cream colored sweaters ~ steam rising from a hot cup of tea ~ lazy good morning kisses ~ wool on bare skin ~ red autumn trees ~ the crunch of leaves underfoot ~ vanilla ~ hugs around the neck ~ hour long conversations ~ earthenware bowls ~ hearty breakfasts ~ fresh cookies ~ spending all day cuddling ~ worn out armchairs ~

-A PLAYLIST (mini time!)

Artholly:

Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur

Dearest by Buddy Holly

Happy Together by The Turtles

Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran

No One Else sung by Denee Benton from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812

Molly:

Phenomenal Woman by Olivia Newton-John

-EXPAND ON THE TRAITS

Assertive: (+) Molly is a woman with a good head on her shoulders, and a strong moral compass. As such, when someone disagrees with her, she is able to deliver a competent, logical reasoning for her opinions. Molly is especially firm when her loved ones are involved. Molly will always stand for her family’s best interests, and will always stand up for herself and others when she believes there are injustices being committed.

Passionate: (+) When Molly gives her heart to something, whether it be an occupation, a goal, or a lover, Molly gives it all. She has never been one to let circumstance or hardships keep her from what she wants, and what she imagines for herself. For Molly, if you aren’t being passionate about something, you don’t care about it enough. So, she puts her soul into the things she cares about, like her relationships. She is tenacious, and will do anything for those she loves.

Temperamental: (-) However, Molly’s assertiveness and passion can sometimes result in her becoming very angry when she is hurt, or betrayed. Molly is a very stubborn woman, and when she encounters something that stands in the way of what she wants, or what is in the best interest of her family, she will blow up at it. In relationships, Molly’s temper is always in the best interest of the people she loves. For example, if she believes that someone she loves is doing something dangerous, something she knows they shouldn’t be doing, she will tell them so, and become very angry if they refuse to change. She can be easily provoked into an argument, but she’s never malicious or in search of conflict.

Overprotective: (-) While her motherly instincts are an asset in many ways, it can be one of Molly’s more annoying attributes, especially to her little sister Alice and some of the younger members of the Order. While they are technically adults, and fellow soldiers in this war, she can be sharp with them when she believes they’re being careless, or putting themselves in danger. She’s significantly protective of Alice, whom she has watched grow up from her childhood, and for whom she feels responsible. She can be smothering, trying to prevent someone from doing something because she believes it’s too dangerous for them.

-A FEW HEADCANONS

Boggart: Molly’s boggart is her siblings’ mangled corpses, with Arthur later included. She cannot stand the idea of seeing them dead, and even the thought is enough to bring Molly’s stomach into her mouth and set her in a cold sweat.

Patronus: Molly’s patronus is, appropriately, a bear. Bears are extremely protective of their cubs, and are representative of the overwhelming strength that lies within her.

Wand: Molly’s wand is a flexible 10-inch willow wood wand, with a unicorn hair core. Willow is a tree known for withstanding the toughest storms, due to its ability to bend and sway in wicked winds; it is best suited for those with great aptitude for healing.

-A FEW POTENTIAL PLOT POINTS

❧ Arthur being injured during a mission, or during a duel against a Death Eater. Plots include her helping nurse Arthur to health, psychological aftermath of the idea of Arthur dying, and being left alone (as a young mother with young children, if they have their kids already), and the resulting paranoia and fear. How she overcomes it, or doesn’t.

❧Molly’s general involvement with the Order, and any missions/jobs she does to help them.

❧Molly meeting/having a conflict with a member of Aversio, because while they, too, wish to defeat Voldemort, she stands completely opposed to their methods.

❧Molly being captured and tortured by death eaters, her panic about not being able to protect her family and her fear that they’ll do something rash to save her

❧MOLLY GETTING PREGNANT (AGAIN) DURING THE WAR. MOLLY AND HER BABIES. MOLLY WEASLEY DEVELOPING SEPARATION ANXIETY BECAUSE EVERY TIME ARTHUR LEAVES OR SHE HAS TO LEAVE THE CHILDREN FOR A MOMENT SHE’S STRICKEN WITH FEAR AND GUILT.

❧Molly dealing with trying to raise young children and give them a normal life despite the threat of death and destruction all around them.

(Really anything, I’m open to any plots that can be thrown at me.)

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

“Oh! That’s a good one. I’d have to say… I’d like to create a way to cast several healing spells at once, just in case of an emergency. I’d hate to ever need to use it, but there have been times, you know–… Where things go awry. But if the situation arose, I think it could be invaluable.

Barring that, a potion to safely help the twins finish teething would be life-changing.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“Oh, well, Arthur of course. I honestly can’t imagine taking anyone else with me! And for an object, I’d say either an invisibility cloak, or what Arthur says the Muggles call a “chainsaw”, in the event we need to get out quickly.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Those where I know the right thing to do, but it may put me or Arthur at risk. I have obligations to the Order—this is a war after all. But I have my children to think about. When I take dangerous missions, I feel immense guilt. When I shy from them, however, I still feel guilt. It’s a double-edged sword.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“That I failed to do enough to fight while those around me suffered. Or that I wasn’t good enough as a parent. If I ever gave my children a reason to say that about me, I couldn’t live with it.”

WRITING SAMPLE

Molly had learned to live her life with little boxes. Her cupboards and closets were stuffed to the brim with scratched wicker baskets, sturdy heirloom chests made of oak, old garment boxes with mismatched lids, all in an attempt to create the storage space necessary to support her growing family of seven. When there were so many of them in one house, and so much shared property, it was important to sort the few independent belongings the children had into labeled containers. Bill, a stern 8 and ½, and Charlie, an enthusiastic six year old, had had enough territory disputes to drive her mad; Charlie followed his big brother around like a puppy, and so often found himself with Bill’s things in hand, in an attempt to emulate his big brother. Bill, who’d had enough of his toys being smashed by the little one’s indelicate fingers, begged Molly to keep his things away from the toddler. For a long time, she insisted that he try to share, that he just teach Charlie to play nicely with his belongings. After Percy was born, however, Molly found it necessary to start dividing up her children’s things, which evolved into her obsession with keeping things in little boxes.

Boxes were how she kept herself sane. Compartmentalizing. She learned to keep parts of herself bottled up, far away from her children. When she was with the children, when it was family time, she belonged entirely to them. But when it came to matters of the Order, she kept those hidden, and never allowed the two to meet. Even the rooms in her house shared her divided mind. The dining room, for instance, which was a sacred place for her family, was a servant of two masters. By day, it was where she fed and nurtured her children; where Arthur read crisp, new printings of The Daily Prophet, beckoning her over if there was a story he thought she may like; where her and Arthur shed happy tears as their baby twins, now hardly a year old, babbled their first words; where her little Percy, who had learned to walk but much preferred to be carried, would perch happily on her hip while she made dinner for the family; the dining room was where her and Arthur would steal a tender moment alone after the children were abed, dancing slowly to soft music floating from the Muggle gramophone he’d enchanted and set on their windowsill.

By night, however, her dining room was transformed. It would frequently become a war-room for the Order of the Phoenix and its secret soldiers. Plans were made, defenses measured, good witches and wizards brought back, in agony, after violent run-ins with Death Eaters, and she would immediately set to healing their wounds. Blood had been shed in her family’s sacred space, blood which she would later diligently clean in order to keep her children from worrying anything was wrong. When the Order made camp in her home, she tried to separate her tender memories and moments with her family from the fear and panic that had often been felt inside her home. It was the only way she could keep her children safe; but she didn’t know how much longer she could. More and more frequently, now, Bill would creep downstairs, hearing a bump in the night, and she would narrowly scoop him up in her arms before he heard something that would surely make sleep impossible for him. More and more, he would ask her about the strange friends mummy and dad were having over after they were all asleep, and he was less and less satisfied by her flimsy explanations. It was not his fault: it’s natural for children to be curious. It was hers. She had brought this into her children’s lives. But she would keep it boxed up, and away from them, as long as she could. She just didn’t know how much longer that would be.

#Accepted App

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dieellendie-blog · 5 years

Text

คุก

I first saw this photo when I was lay in a beautiful double bed, alone, in a city I had never had any desire to visit. My heart was shattered into a thousand pieces with the pain mainly rooted in innocence and confusion. Here I was, in a hotel I had booked for a birthday, in a city she wanted to visit. Of course we will go, I will book it, use my time, money and dedication to do anything to make you happy. It’s just how it is. That’s how we live. That’s who we are. That is of course, until you decide this isn’t for you anymore and abandon me, with no singular choice but to go anyway, spending a week on a couples trip, in couples accommodation, cancelling meal reservations, birthday cakes and king size beds. It was at that moment, that I decided never, ever will I settle for any less than that photo illustrates. That’s exactly how I love, I give everything, maybe that’s my problem, I’m a fantasist or just somebody who has watched too many pink-spined rom-coms. But, in reality, why should I change? Instead of changing myself, this time I will only settle for somebody who gives the same, with an effortless personality and vision of love that fits perfectly into mine.

You know, you never realise you are being emotionally abused until the aftermath of it. When your brain feelings like it’s bleeding and parts of your personality drift away from you without warning or permission. It’s like being in the middle of a huge storm at sea, destruction is happening all around you, waves are consuming your belongings, but all you do is stay aboard that boat. Making sure the other person is safe. You don’t matter anymore. You have a job to do. You have to care, protect and adapt. Keep your sails afloat, the person under your wing. That’s all that matters now. People notice changes, you are too consumed with what you have done wrong to care. I have always had a strong personality, with confidence that chose its best and worst days. It would never happen to me. It would be impossible infact. I saw how emotional abuse crept from insecure and manipulative people and cradled the most unworthy. Just like when it happened to my brother. My brother, the kindest, coolest, most confident, exciting, beautiful, funny, successful and all round most wonderful soul to ever walk to planet. Nobody has met my brother and disliked him, infact, everybody adores him. Boys want to be him, girls fall in love with him. In a family of 50 cousins, he is the clear favourite. I’d be mad ay my parents if he wasn’t their favourite child. I don’t even feel ashamed to say he is my favourite brother. That’s because he deserves it. He will do anything for anyone, has deep rooted emotions that show a beautiful conscience, a kindness that flows effortlessy and joyfully from him, yet is still the life and soul of the party and the funniest person I know. My younger brother, but my big brother and quite often, my husband and my Father. He enjoyed a wonderful life as the youngest child, with two parents who had learnt from their mistakes. Happy, always smiling and always single. No girl had ever created a will inside for him to settle down and distrupt his lifestyle. That is until he met her. The usual. Nice, pretty, funny, tried to impress his sister…controlling, jealous and manipulative. Casual psychopath. Just your average girl at best.

In 2018 they went on a break as she was damaging to his mental health. He doesn’t deal with stress well and she brought out the worst and created a prson none of us knew. Stressed. Sad. A hermit. Yet again, his good heart would always take pity on her and her constant guilt trips. He always felt to blame. One night, they got talking, told her she could stay over, at his beautiful home, he worked hard to buy. A cottage, in a adorable market town, surrounded by hills and cobbled streets. An elevated decked terrace, he built, that overlooks the greenest hills and views of a little life he worked hard to create. They get to her house to get some of her things. She goes to her room to pack a bag. James goes to the toilet. He opens the door and from the shower rail hangs her mother. Blue. Her neck pertruding from a make shift instrument she has used to escape a reality she has locked my brother in forever.

If he couldn’t leave then, how could he leave now? And then it began. You can’t leave my mum killed herself. If you leave, I will kill myself. Prison.

He cut her down, took care of everything, she didn’t have to see anything. He made sure of it. He moved her in. Every night, he was haunted by nightmares, voices, visions. I’d wake with missed calls at 4am and voicenotes begging for reassurance I was alive and he hadn’t lost his mind. Plagued by a nightly nightmare that she was locked in a room, with me, my mum and my nana. The room was filling with water and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t get in. He couldn’t saveus. But that didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. What he had seen, been through. Irrelavant. Her mum was dead and it was his job now to care for her. This was his life now and that is that. Any escape from that life was to be as difficult as his battle to enter the room the people he loved most were drowning.

It’s funny. Because like me, he was caring for a ‘victim’, someone you become so consumed with comforting and protecting, you lose all sight of any need for that yourself.

It is easy to gain such a negative view of the world and the people that occupy it. I truly see now why people can act scared in relationships and grow to be occupied by fear, mask feelings that are dictated by paranoia, all from a kind of trauma. I see why people live shielded lives and emotionally behave in a locked up manner. But I won’t do that. I won’t let somebody ruin my chances at true happiness and everything I saw in that photo. I won’t let my fate escape me, all because of a makeshift personality you had me create to keep me in my prison.

I met a girl recently. And the feeling was alien. It was like every single part of me was not only accepted, but also encouraged. I was complimented, praised and spoken so positively about. I didn’t even know how to take it. Is this a lie, a joke?I have spent the past year so apologetic for everthing I am, I don’t even know how to take it. The things I once thought needed to change, were actually her biggest celebrations. There were no walls, games. It was a wave of unapologetic emotion, an exact replica of how my heart behaves. It was like a mirror, holding up an example of how hard I go, held up right infront of me, reminding me of the wonder of being so daring and open, and exactly why I had been so loved before. Why my family adored me. Why my friends adored me. After three meetings. She has done more to actively represent that photo than somebody I gave every moment of my time and emotional energy. I will never let negative elements of my past dictate how hard I love. I will never let your abuse and destruction affect my future happiness. It would just be what you wanted, wouldn’t it? Just because some people don’t deserve it, doesn’t mean I have to change. I have a video of her on my phone. A video that I know would be absolutely worn and shattered to pieces if it was a standard VHS tape. I watch that video several times an hour as it houses one single look that brings me more life than I have felt, for a duration that feels like a lifetime. Never has anybody combined such adoration, excitement and fondness in one single look. With her. There is no need for any apology or any single toning down of my personality. What a beautiful and unfamiliar feeling that leads me to thank god a thousand times, that I never decided to follow your rules.

I hope she knows how thankful I am for her existence. I hope she knows that I feel totally in awe. I hope wherever she is, she truly knows how wonderfully brilliant I will always think she is.

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