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#so I’ve been experiencing more and more this choice between not eating OR hurting myself via potential contaminants
angelasscribbles · 1 year
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Mother in Law Hell: A Drabble Me This Story
Series: Drabble Me This
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings for series: Riley x Liam
Rating: R
Warnings for this chapter: Language
Word Count: 2,154 Once again, I have way exceed the word count for a drabble. Sorry/not sorry lol.
A/N: This is in no way designed to start an argument about bottle v breast feeing. The main problem here is Riley, as the mother, getting her wishes ran over.
My other stuff: Master List.
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@twinkleallnight:
The ask: Riley and Liam marry. Connie dies... But Regina who has been so supportive till now starts playing double game with Riley. Riley tries to tell Liam. He doesn't understand. Creates lot of misunderstanding between them leading to the fallout. How do they fix it?
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Riley had always gotten along with Regina, but something changed after Constantine died. Regina grieved for a while, as was expected. So, Riley let a lot of the barbs and snide comments slide, chalking it up to grief. It got worse when she got pregnant. And as her belly grew bigger, the barbs got deeper.
“Are you sure you should be eating that my dear?”
Riley paused, sandwich halfway to her mouth and blinked at her mother in law, “What?”
“I mean, is that pastrami?” Regina shuddered a little, “Maybe I can have the kitchen make you a nice salad.”
Regina flagged down one of the maids as Riley protested, “N-no, thanks. The baby needs the protein.”
Regina tsked, “My dear, I’m just trying to help! You’ve gained so much weight! I mean, really, is that any way to keep the eye of a king? I never let my figure go, not in all the years Constantine and I were together.”
Riley sat the sandwich on her plate as she stared at the older woman in shock, “Regina, I’m pregnant!”
“That’s really no excuse to let yourself go, is it?”
Riley’s hand went protectively to her belly, “First of all, I have preeclampsia and half of the weight I’ve gained is retained water! Second of all, my doctor was concerned that I wasn’t gaining enough weight in the first trimester because of how bad my morning sickness was! Third, Liam is a loving and devoted husband, and your insinuation is just gross! And fourth, seriously, weight shaming, especially a pregnant woman, is just…just….”
“What’s going on?” Liam asked as he entered the room.
“I was just having a snack and Regina started trying to body shame me about my weight!”
“What?” Liam looked at Regina then back to Riley in confusion.
“Oh, dear, no. I was just giving her some tips on healthy eating. I only want the best for the baby, after all!”
“No, that’s not-“
“It’s ok, dear,” Regina patted her arm on her way out of the room, “It’s the pregnancy hormones that make you overly sensitive!”
“Liam! She was being horrible! You believe me, right?”
Liam looked at his wife sympathetically, “Of course I believe that she hurt your feelings! But I’m sure she didn’t mean to! She can be…brusque from her years of ruling.”
“Yes, but her suggestions weren’t even right! She criticized my food choices and said I was letting myself go!”
“She doesn’t understand, she never experienced pregnancy herself. We’ll get her some literature about healthy eating during pregnancy if you want.”
She looked up at him and he was so sincere, she decided to let it go. Maybe he was right. Regina was trying to be involved, right? But shouldn’t a former queen have more tact? Riley couldn’t push away the feeling that she’d been cruel on purpose.
“Hey.” Liam sat down and pulled her into his arms, “How about I have the kitchen make you a chocolate milkshake? You love those! And it’s full of protein! Then maybe we can sneak off to our room for a midafternoon rendezvous? Hmmm?”
She giggled as his nose nuzzled into her neck, letting go of her ire. It would be okay.
But it wasn’t. It only got worse after the birth of the baby.
Riley returned from the hospital to find their apartment inside the palace had been redecorated, with hideous paintings that looked like they had been molding in the attic for years.
Regina was waiting for them when they entered the living room, “Welcome home!”
“What the hell happened in here?” Riley asked.
“Oh, I wanted to surprise you!”
“But…where is my stuff?” Riley had worked hard to decorate the apartment, to make it feel like home, a true retreat for their family, a place to get away from the palace and the demands of public life.
“Oh, it’s in storage, but I’m going to have it hauled away. It was so tacky, don’t you think? You’re a mother now, you need to think about the fact that you’re raising the heir! These portraits are our history! You won’t be able to teach her what she needs to know because you aren’t from here, so I thought this would be a good start!”
“Liam!”
Liam embraced her, “Here, let’s get you settled in. We can sort this out later.”
“The bedroom, Liam, I want to go to the bedroom.” She was shaking with anger, no way she could sit in that living room while Regina was still in it.
“She meant well.” Liam told her.
“No, she didn’t. Get rid of her and get rid of that shit on my walls! I want my decorations back, Liam, the ones you and I picked together!”
“Of course, love.”
“And you need to tell her to stop overstepping boundaries!”
“I think she just wants to be involved. She’s still grieving my father, she never had children of her own, Leo is gone, we’re all she has.”
“She has Madeleine and Adelaide!” Riley fumed, “Let her go stay in Krona!”
“Riley! We can’t send her away! We’re her family!”
Once again, Riley was forced to let it go.
But the final straw came when Riley woke from a nap to find Regina feeding the two month old crown princess of Cordonia from a bottle.
“I thought we were out of expressed milk.” Riley said.
Regina rolled her eyes, “Oh dear, I don’t think she’s gaining enough weight on your milk. You’re too sickly and weak, you’re not strong like a Cordonian woman. I sent the butler out for some formula.”
“What?! No! You know that we’re exclusively breastfeeding!” Riley felt tears prick her eyes.
“Well, that’s your mistake dear. It’s why she’s not sleeping through the night. She needs something more substantial in her stomach.”
Riley’s eyes tracked across the counter, landing on a box of baby rice cereal, “Did you put cereal in that bottle?”
“Just a tablespoonful. You can thank me when she sleeps through the night.”
“Get out!”
“What?”
“Put my baby down and Get. Out. NOW!” Riley roared.
Regina jumped, Ellie started to cry.
“See what you’ve done, you selfish little bitch?” Regina hissed, “All you care about is yourself! That’s why you came between Liam and his father at the end of his life! My husband was dying but did you care? No! All you cared about was casting him as the bad guy to clear your own name so you could manipulate Liam into marrying you!”
“What?”
“You heard me! You came in here with all your American ideas and modern values and seduced him with sex and inappropriate behavior! You’re not fit for the throne, and you’re not fit for my son! He’ll see that soon and send you packing back to America!”
Riley couldn’t stop the hot, angry tears streaming down her face as she stumbled to the door and yanked it open, “Marco!”
“Yes, Your Majesty?” The young guard looked tentatively back and forth between the women.
“I want her to put my daughter down then I want her out of my sight, and I never want her back in here! I don’t care if you have to lock her in the cells to do it!”
Marco took in the sight in front of him and resolve washed over his face as he moved toward the queen mother. He knew who he worked for, and it wasn’t Regina.
“No need to be so dramatic.” Regina handed the baby to the nanny who had come running at the sound of crying. “I’ll go. But Liam will be hearing about this!”
After Regina was escorted out, Riley took her baby from the nanny, kissing the top of her head as she gently rocked her, “It’s ok, it’s ok, baby, momma’s so sorry she yelled.”
“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, I didn’t know-“
“It’s not your fault, Callie.” Riley sniffed, “Just, go get Marco for me, okay?” 
Callie left the room and returned with Marco. The young guard asked, “Is there something else I can do for you, Your Majesty?”
“Yes, there is. I need you to send a message to my husband and then I need you to send up several butlers and a couple of maids right away.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Marco replied as he backed out of the room to do her bidding.
As soon as he could get free, the king responded to his wife’s summons.
Liam walked into mass chaos.
Riley’s breasts ached; Ellie wouldn’t latch on. Riley’s breasts were so full she couldn’t get the pump to form a seal so there was no relief to be found there. Ellie was screaming because her tummy hurt, she was pulling her little legs up, grunting in an effort to poop. The royal doctor had just left, saying Ellie was constipated from the cereal and to try a little apple juice in a bottle, but diluted because her digestive system really wasn’t ready for that either. Riley was leaking milk from both sides and crying from pain, frustration and anger. Her face was red and streaked with tears, the front of her shirt was soaked as rivulets of milk ran from both breasts.
There were two maids scurrying around the apartment and three butlers carrying luggage and baby items from the bedroom and nursery out the door.
Even the nanny was crying.
“What the hell is going on?” Liam exploded.
Riley wiped her face on her sleeve and stood, “What’s happening is that Regina did it again, Liam, only a thousand times worse and I already know that you’re going to excuse her behavior no matter what I say! Even though I have witnesses!” She swung her arm in the nanny’s direction.
“Why are the butlers taking luggage and baby equipment out of here?” He demanded as his head turned to track their activities.
“Ellie and I are going to stay at Valtoria.” Riley said sorrowfully.
“For how long?” He yelled.
“Forever.” She replied quietly, her voice rising steadily as she spoke, “You dismiss all my concerns when it comes to Regina! You don’t listen, you don’t believe me that what she does is intentionally mean! I can’t take it anymore! I won’t put my child through it!”
“Wait.” Liam’s face paled, “You’re…you’re leaving me?”
“Yes. I love you, Liam, desperately. You are welcome at Valtoria anytime, but I can’t and won’t spend one more night under the same roof as Regina.”
Desperation laced his words, “Riley, no! You can’t leave me!”
“You can just spin it as me wanting some alone time with the baby. I’m sure the PR department will come up with something believable, so your public image isn’t tarnished.”
Liam’s mouth fell open, “You think I’m worried about my public image?”
She wiped at her face again, “Aren’t you?”
“No!” He grabbed her by the shoulders, “I’m worried about losing my wife! I love you, Riley, with everything in me! I can’t live without you! I don’t want any of this without you! I’ll abdicate right now and fuck Cordonia all to hell!”
“Liam, you can’t abdicate, that’s crazy talk!”
He slid down to his knees, right in front of the staff, taking her hand in his, “Please don’t do this!”
“I don’t want to!” Fresh tears fell down her face, “But I don’t know what else to do!”
His features hardened as he rose to his feet, “I do.”
Liam raised his voice, “Everyone stop! Alec! Marco! Get in here!”
All activity ceased as the king barked orders, “Put everything back where you found it! The queen is not leaving, my daughter is not leaving!”
He watched as the staff scurried around, carrying luggage and baby items back into the bedroom and nursery, then he turned to the two guards he had summoned, “Go find Regina, and escort her from the premises.”
“Your Majesty?”
“You heard me. Take her to Krona, or wherever she wants to go, but she can’t stay here. We’ll send her things later, wherever she ends up. Go! Now!”
The guards jumped and hurried out the door to carry out their orders.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what she did?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He took her in his arms again, “You wouldn’t be this upset for nothing. I’m sorry I didn’t listen before, didn’t take it seriously. I need you to know that no one is more important to me than you and our family. Okay?”
She smiled through her tears as she nodded, “Okay.”
“I love you, Riley Rys, you’re my life, my heart! Can you ever forgive me?”
“I forgive you, Liam! You were just trying to be a good son.”
“I’d rather be a good husband, and a good father. I know where my priorities are.”
She collapsed into his arms and cried tears of relief.
Riley never saw Regina again and she lived happily ever after.
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Feeling uncomfortable.
I don’t know how many people will have an interest in reading my little blog on this space on the internet.
But my intention is literally to write about things to make you feel uncomfortable.
I recently found out I most likely have ADHD.
Along with a million other diagnoses.
But that one just really hit the nail on the head for me.
I found this out just yesterday on my visit to the neurologist and telling her about the not being able to focus much and spacing out. And she told me, “That sounds like ADHD.”
I need to get tested first, but I’m doing research, the difference between women with ADHD, which I found interesting was that we don’t get hyper. Only males get the hyperactivity. Females tend to get depressed, mood swings, anxiety, etc.
So, who knows how long I’ve had it, and how long all of this could have been able to be handled from the start.
I’m actually pretty bitter about it. (Females... We get all the fun stuff. AmIRight?)
My entire life I’ve been distracted. I never wanted to listen to anyone and I wanted to live inside my own little world.
I did horribly in school because I just couldn’t focus, and my family was always frustrated with me because they always thought I was never listening on purpose.
They thought I just purposely wanted to piss them off out of spite, or pretended I was stupid to get out of things.
I have pretty bad depression. And recently I’ve been experiencing some pretty intolerable panic attacks to the point where I feel like I’m dying.
My stress at one point was so bad my brain just decided to click off go into body spasms.
Having seizures changed my life forever.
I don’t remember my seizures personally because each time I would have one it was like a black out. And then I would wake up on the ground and someone would be shaking me, telling me an ambulance was on its way. My mom explained to me how it looked. and from how she explained it, it sounded a lot like I turned into Regan from the exorcist. My arm and jaw distorts, and I make strange noises and everything.
Some people are unfortunate enough to get ten or more seizures a day. And the extremely unlucky ones can have as many as every minute, or every ten seconds.
When I was told I had epilepsy (because I had more than one episode) Doctors pretty much put the fear of God into me about how I was going to hurt people if I tried to get behind a wheel, or even thought about gaining some independence at the age I was supposed to be experiencing things.
Instead, my depression just got worse and worse as I isolated myself for my “protection”.
Your twenties are the time to have fun and sex and drink and have friends.
I just got more emotionally sick by the day, and wondered if I would even make it to my 30’s.
I kept telling myself “If this doesn’t happen by 30 I’m killing myself.”
I made a lot of promises to end my life back then because I just felt like there was no reason to live. I felt like I just took up space and that was it- I am 30 now. And 2 of those promises still haven’t happened yet.
At this point it’s better to have the mindset of “There are much worse things in life than not achieving this. This is a dumb reason to want to completely end your life over.” Especially when there are so many out there who don’t get the choice whether they get to live another day or not.
At one point I accidentally became bulimic.
My anxiety was at a full time high and any time I tried to eat something I would puke so hard my throat stung and bled a little.
I was down to 102lbs. And my height is barely 5’1. (It was extremely uncomfortable when people would compliment me on my new size. And asking me “How I did it!”)
Living off of Gatorade isn’t that much fun- and my heart goes out to all those who suffer with body dysmorphia.
You do NOT have to go to such extreme lengths like starving yourself or making yourself ill in order to feel like you belong in todays beauty standards.
Being that sick was PAINFUL.
At that point I was just kind of in a fog.
Taking whatever meds my doctors gave me.
“Take this for your depression” “Take this gif your seizures” “Take this for your anxiety” “Take this because I say so.”
And I just took whatever was given to me. I didn’t really care because again; I wanted to die and I planned to eat them all at once like a bowl of cereal. I just needed to decide when to do it. Most days I just decided to sleep it off instead. If I wasn’t here, it was just better.
At this time I’d like to remind anyone if you're feeling suicidal please think about your actions and if what you are upset about REALLY IS worth killing yourself over.
I don’t like when people say “Suicide is selfish.” Because it’s not.
If anything, you calling them selfish for contemplating suicidal thoughts or actions will drive them right to it.
Just like every other time, chances are the individual will think “You are right. I’ll leave. You won’t have to deal with me anymore.”
And that is what drives that individual to act.
You are the one who is selfish who is taking your anger out on a mentally ill person who clearly needs help. And instead, you continue to put them down.
Talking about suicide is never something someone jokes about.
If your friend says “it’s my dark humor”, you need to check on them and not let it go.
Being inside the mind of a suicide survivor, (twice) believe me I know this.
Are you uncomfortable yet?
Being mentally unstable and having trouble trying to get help is EXTREMELY common these days.
But so many people still just won’t get help in fear of weakness or what their doctor might have to say to them.
I hope you aren’t too uncomfortable.
And I promise it won’t always be this dark.
I figured it would be good to show you the dark side first before getting into the dark humor; which the audience in my head thinks is hilarious, btw.
I’m off to watch some horror- and in the meantime, I’ll be thinking of other things to include here as well because I like interaction when I write.
Thank you for reading 🌹
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eclipsednodes · 4 years
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SHADOW WORK SIMPLIFIED
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What is shadow work?
If I had to describe shadow work in one word, it would be introspection. Introspection is the examination of your own mental state and is necessary in order to learn more about your fundamental nature. Although it may sound off-putting and even scary at first, shadow work is a necessary component in the process of healing. We all have aspects of ourselves that we’ve rejected and hidden away out of fear. Through shadow work, we’re able to reflect on our thoughts, emotions, and habits so that we can find the root cause of our suffering and heal ourselves. By reincorporating those aspects of ourselves that we’ve denied, we feel more fulfilled and can begin to love ourselves fully. 
Where does shadow work come from? 
The concept of the shadow self comes from Carl Jung who believed that our shadow self is the subconscious aspect, or “dark side”, of our personality that our conscious ego doesn’t identify with. However, I would like to clarify that “dark” does not imply or equate with bad. That which resides outside of our consciousness can be either good or bad, but aren’t inherently reflective of our value or “goodness” as a person. 
Although these repressed aspects of ourselves can manifest negatively, it isn’t because those parts of us are “bad”, but that the process of repression is inherently painful and toxic. This is reflected by Jung when he states, "Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.” He believed that until we’ve merged our conscious and subconscious selves, that our conscious would be “the slave of the autonomous shadow”. This is due to the shadow self overwhelming our conscious selves by falling victim to our own self-imposed traps. 
Through assimilating this shadow self, not over-identifying with it, Jung believed we go through the process of enantiodromia, thereby integrating the subconscious by reincorporating our shadow selves into our personality and allowing us to solidify ourselves through wholeness. He best described this by stating "assimilation of the shadow gives a man body, so to speak.” However, don’t fall into the misconception that shadow work is a short-term practice. Shadow work is a continuous practice and integration of the shadow self is a will take place throughout your life.
How do I do shadow work?
In the last question, I identified that practicing self-reflection is a key component of shadow work, but what does that mean? What am I supposed to be reflecting on? Well, the first thing that you should focus on is being present throughout the day. Identify feelings that come up throughout the day and observe them objectively. What situation or interaction triggered these emotions? How did I react to those emotions? Were my emotions controlling me or was I in control of my emotions? Why did this situation or interaction cause me to feel this way? How did I cope with those feelings (self-harming, lashing out at others, communicating my feelings, journalling, etc.)? Did I punish myself for getting upset? If so, why? 
There are numerous ways to reflect on your feelings and experiences in order to get a better understanding of yourself. Through evaluating how you react to situations, which situations upset you, and how you managed those feelings, you’re able to build the foundation to understanding your emotions and bridge the gap between your subconscious and conscious mind.
Once you’ve done this, you’ll find that the emotions you feel in the present are reflective of unhealed emotions from your past. Perhaps the reason you feel that you’re unable to set boundaries as an adult is because as a child, your parents never respected your boundaries by going through your phone or diary, yelling at you when you said no to a request, forcing you into situations that made you feel you had no choice. 
By identifying the root cause of your emotional pain, you’re able to address it in the present and heal from the trauma. The simplest way that I’ve found to address them is through journalling. You can purchase a physical journal or even use your notes app, either way, you’re writing out your feelings and reflections to gain deeper insight. It’s important to remember that this looks different for anyone and that the best way to approach shadow work is by doing what feels most natural! You can choose to stick to self-reflective journal prompts, vent about whatever is upsetting you, write letters to whoever has hurt you, etc. Ultimately, you can guide yourself based off of what you feel you need and where you are in your journey.
What parts of yourself do you find yourself rejecting the most? Many of us have experienced the pain of rejection in some aspects of our lives and sometimes, it’s incredibly painful and leaves us with long-lasting wounds. We end up going through our lives carrying baggage that we don’t even know we have! Many times, I’ve found myself wondering why I felt so repulsed by aspects of myself and why I felt so strongly that they needed to be locked away forever. I couldn’t allow myself or others to see my truest self, my whole self, out of fear. I was scared of being rejected, shamed, humiliated by the people around me. I was scared of hurting other people by being myself and of being hurt by others. That’s no way to live, is it? When we tell ourselves that aspects of ourselves aren’t good enough, we end up going through life devaluing ourself. We’ve broken our own trust by rejecting ourselves, we’ve told ourselves that we aren’t good enough or worthy of love. In shadow work, you’re called to go inward and unpack everything that we’ve kept hidden for years and sometimes even decades. 
Bring the parts of yourself that you’ve repressed to the surface and nourish them with love, allow yourself to see that ALL OF YOU is deserving of love and support. For you, that could mean unlearning your unhealthy beliefs about food or eating, allowing yourself to be emotional around the people you love (despite how much you were told that you were too emotional, a crybaby, too sensitive in the past), allowing yourself to relax without feeling guilty about not being productive because you recognize your needs (even though you feel your sense of worth is tied to being productive at the cost of your own health).
Common misconceptions about shadow work?
Shadow work is evil or bad, the shadow is evil or bad 
The purpose of shadow work is healing through working with your subconscious to release repressed aspects of yourself and heal from painful, traumatic experiences. Your shadow side is simply your unconscious and to believe that it’s bad is to believe that you are bad. It’s merely the part of yourself that you aren’t aware of consciously and shouldn’t be feared. 
Certain emotions are “bad”
When you let go of the idea that emotions are either good or bad, you’ll allow yourself to just be and stop putting so much pressure on yourself to feel “good” all of the time. Happiness isn’t a constant state of being so stop expecting to be all of the time, we have a range of emotions for a reason so stop being ashamed of them. Your feelings are natural and if you feel like they’re out of control and something to be ashamed of, there is nothing wrong with that! It’s okay to feel like your emotions are controlling you because that isn’t permanent. Your feelings aren’t permanent and are completely manageable with proper guidance! The reason you feel like your emotions are controlling you is because you probably don’t have the knowledge to cope with them in an effective and healthy way. It’s helpful to sit with your emotions alone and look at them objectively without placing any judgement on them, this will help you calm down and assess your feelings. From there, you can identify what you need to relax and recover as well as acknowledge to yourself that your feelings are natural. When you stop categorizing your emotions as bad, they’re no longer shameful to experience and therefore you can see with better clarity how to cope with them and move on.
I’ve already released it so…
Why am I still upset?
Why does it still keep popping up in my head?
Why haven’t I moved on?
Why am I not making progress?
With the rise of self development and spirituality, I find that more and more people are rushing to complete their healing. Healing is a continuous, life-long cycle and not a destination. Putting the pressure on yourself to reach the place of ultimate healing is not only toxic, but it impedes your ability to actually heal anything. Healing is about love, compassion, and patience and it’s not going to happen according to a timeline. Allow yourself the time to experience your emotions, see them objectively, forgive yourself and others and move on without the pressure of expectations. 
 Another reason that you could be experiencing this is that despite the work you think you’ve done, it hasn’t been sufficient. I’ve found that a lot of journal prompts provided online are surface level at best and can be more pacifying than revealing. If you’re not feeling anything while doing your inner work, you’re not doing it correctly. Ultimately, this is about uncovering what makes us UNCOMFORTABLE and moving through those feelings. When you allow yourself to experience the sadness, hurt, anger, and/or frustration than you’re telling yourself that these feelings are okay and don’t need to be suppressed. The reality is that no matter what you’re feeling, you are allowed to experience those emotions and it’s only human! Unfortunately, many people associate lower vibrational emotions as bad, but this is a huge misconception! Telling yourself that anger, sadness, etc. are “bad” implies that you shouldn’t experience these emotions and that you have to get rid of them which is not only wrong, but unhealthy. There is no right or wrong emotions so don’t buy into the belief that you should feel a certain way, simply allow yourself to be and you’ll find that it’s much easier to navigate your emotions and needs. The only way to make it to the other side is by wading through the water, be patient and know that you’re feeling exactly what you should be. When you stop censoring yourself, you’ll discover a newfound sense of freedom and wholeness. 
 If you find yourself circling back to certain topics, for example, your ex-boyfriend than perhaps there are triggers in your environment that remind you of the situation, you have more that needs to be addressed that you may not have been ready for or aware of previously (hence why shadow work is a practice that is ongoing), or they’re representative of a deeper issue that you’re repressing. Whatever the cause is, the same methods as earlier will apply and can be discerned through your own intuition. 
What are some basic journal prompts that I can do?
What feelings come up when you think of ____?
How did that experience make you feel emotionally? How did it make you feel about yourself? How did it make you feel about the other person or people?
Write a letter to yourself, your inner child, the people who’ve hurt you, and the people you’ve hurt. Express how you feel honestly, without holding back and then forgive yourself and the other person.
If you could say anything to yourself or another person for closure, what would it be?
How have these situations and experiences impacted your mental health? How have they affected your belief system about yourself, other people, and the world?
What about yourself are you ashamed of? What about yourself are you embarrassed of? What about yourself makes you angry? What do you regret? Why do you feel this way about yourself and where do these feelings stem from?
What makes you feel most alone? What makes you feel most loved? How can you incorporate that knowledge into your life to make it better?
What’s the most hurtful thing someone has said or done to you? Why did it hurt you so much? How does it still affect you now? How can you heal from it and allow yourself to move on?
What do you need to forgive yourself for? What do you need to forgive others for?
Where do you feel you lack security in your life? Why? How does this impact your life and your relationships?
This is a list of generic prompts for you to start with, but feel free to message me if you need help with more specific topics or I can make another post altogether for journal prompts.
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evening-starlight · 3 years
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Daddy’s Best Friend
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Word Count: 1450
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    Amaris takes a steadying breath as she knocks on Tom's front door. It had been two weeks since the family dinner, and the forbidden lovers have kept their distance to avoid any more conflicting feelings. The only reason she's here is because Armel is busy in a night class, and her father is using the house for a business meeting.
    The siblings came up with movie night tradition when Will first started to hold meetings in their family home. Tom was the first to offer, wanting to spend more time with his honorary family.
    So when William told them about his meeting, they all rejoiced that they got to go back to their favorite tradition with Tom. Only, Amaris was freaking out on the inside. She had an hour between when her dad's meeting started and when her siblings would come to Tom's. Amaris was going to spend time with Armel; instead, he was going to a late-night class.
    And here Amaris was, standing in front of Tom's door with a pounding heart. She knew she shouldn't be this nervous to see her best friend; he was always there for her. But that doesn't change the fact that when Tom opens the door in a tight white tee and grey sweats, her heart skipped a beat or two.
    Tom won't lie, he chose that shirt for a reason. Maybe a little subconsciously, but he went with it. If he can't have Amaris, Tom's going to show her what she's missing. He smiles brightly, welcoming her with a signature Tom bear hug. "I'm so pleased we're doing this again." He smiles.
    Everything was normal, Amaris had to remind herself as she stepped inside his home and slipped off her shoes. "I've missed our movie nights so much. The ones with Armel just didn't hit right," Tom smiles smugly as he leads the way to the kitchen, where he's cooking popcorn three different ways. One batch with no seasoning or butter for Danica, one with extra butter and salt for Juno, and a double batch of kettle popcorn for Tom and Amaris.
    "Armel isn't as experienced as I am, so that doesn't surprise me," Tom says, his back to Amaris as he returns his attention to the popcorn pot. Amaris gets hit with a wall of emotions with the phrase. But why?
    "What's that supposed to mean?" She asks defensively as she sits on the counter, eating bits of Danica's popcorn bowl.
    "Nothing, just that I have more experience making your movie nights the best." Tom shrugs, smiling over his shoulder at her. Amaris looks skeptical, eyeing Tom over while she eats a handful of plain popcorn. "When did you start eating that shit?" He asks, gesturing to his least favorite kind of popcorn.
    "Armel eats his popcorn like Danica does, so I got used to it. Though, I can't wait to have your kettle corn again. I've craved it." Tom laughs at Amaris throws her head back, dramatically inhaling the scent of kettle corn before humming. "So good," She says as she dips her hand into her sister's bowl again.
    Tom smacks her hand playfully. "Quit that; you won't have enough for my amazing kettle corn." Amaris visibly pouts but giggles as she thrusts her hand in Tom's face.
    "Kiss it better; you hurted me." Tom throws his head back in a full belly laugh before leaning in and kisses Amaris's hand better, maintaining eye contact. It shouldn't be as erotic as it felt to either of them. It was nothing more than friendly antics they've shared before.
    The tense silence that fell over them is cut short when the popcorn starts popping, tearing Tom apart her and his hand out of hers, where it belonged. They stay silent longer, thinking over the events that unfolded seconds ago.
    "You know?" Amaris asks, changing the subject. Tom hums in response, glancing over at her. "You should teach Armel how to make the kettle corn. I think he'd enjoy your version of it." Tom rolls his eyes before putting on a fake smile.
    "I'd love to teach your little french boy how to cook," The minute the words leave his mouth, Tom regrets it. He sees Amaris shift uncomfortably in her spot at the harsh words he used.
    "What's your problem with Armel?" She asks as Tom pours the kettle corn in a bowl to cool down. Tom thinks over his words. He could tell her everything; that he's confused but can't stop thinking about that gorgeous mouth on his or stop thinking about having her in his bed.
    But he won't. "I don't have a problem, darling. I'm just saying I'd love to..." He's cut off by Amaris raising her voice slightly.
    "That's bullshit, Tom. You shut off when I bring up Armel and get snippy in your comments about him." She slips off the counter, standing with her arms crossed. "So what is it? Did he say something to you you're protecting me from?"
    "I'm not protecting you from him," Tom huffs, running a hand through his hair. He can't say much more because if he does, he'll ruin everything.
    "Than who are you protecting me from, Tom?" Amaris asks, voice softening.
    Tom lets out a frustrated sigh followed by, "Myself, Mari." The words hang in the air between them, and Tom wishes he could take them back. But they're out there, so he might as well finish. "I know it's wrong, but I can't stop these feelings. I told you I didn't remember the kiss because I didn't want to. It was wrong to be kissing you, but I can't stop thinking about how perfect it felt since then. But you're with Armel like you should be. He makes you happy and loves you more than I ever could," He finishes, watching for any change in Amaris's demeanor. She stays shocked, processing the words coming out of Tom's mouth.
    "I dated Armel to get you out of my head," She admits. "He makes me happy, yes, but he's not you. You're the one I've always wanted Tom," Amaris steps closer to Tom. "You're the only guy who's been able to keep my attention longer than six months. I've wanted to know what you tasted like since I was old enough to know what kissing was," She whispers, lips hovering over Tom's.
    She shouldn't be doing this. She's with Armel, and he loves Amaris so much. But this is everything Amaris has dreamed about for years, only this time he's sober. They stay there, lips a breath away for what feels like an eternity. Both of them wanted this, so why was it so hard to make that final move.
    Amaris takes the final leap, connecting her lips to Tom's. This was her choice, and Tom didn't force it. He was waiting for her to take the chance, for it to be her choice.
    Tom's hands cup Amaris's face, bringing her closer while her hands wrap around the outside of his bicep that strains against the white shirt. The kiss caused sparks to fly in both of their minds, sending shockwaves down to their toes.
    The kitchen counter bumps Amaris's bum as Tom backs her up. "Jump," He mumbles against her lips, helping her sit back on the counter where she was minutes ago. Tom rests one hand on the small of her back, pulling her chest flush against his while the other tangles itself in her hair. Meanwhile, Amaris has one hand on his well-toned bicep and the other in his hair.
    Kissing Tom was everything Amaris imagined it would be. His lips worked against hers gracefully yet passionately. They felt like nothing she's ever felt before, raising goosebumps along her arm and neck.
    Tom deepens the kiss by biting on her lower lip, enticing small moans out of Amaris's mouth, which Tom finds stunningly sublime. She pulls a small fistful of hair at his actions, pulling a low groan out of him.
    The sound sends a pulse to her center, making her scoot closer on the counter towards Tom. He was like a drug to her, and she never wanted to come up for air. The kiss was all she ever needed to continue living. Fuck food and water; she just needed Tom's lips on hers.
    They jump apart at the sound of the doorbell, startled out of their daydream. The couple stare at each other in shock, still holding each other. Amaris is the first to break out, pushing Tom out of the way to get to the restroom. She turns around to look at him first, pointing a finger at him. "No one can know. Understood?"
    "Understood."
Taglist: @queenofallhobos​ @kingtwhiddleston​ @cynic-spirit​
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khaotic-kitsunes · 3 years
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Royal Summons
Ah yes, I don’t remember writing this at all, of course I did write it but I just don’t remember it. Which makes reading it fantastic because, well fuck, I had no idea what it was!
Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋
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 You gulped nervously as you approached the rather large, wooden door that lead to your King’s private chambers; Taishiro Toyomitsu, one of the most feared demons around and, coincidentally, the demon that had summoned you to his bedroom.
 Why? God how you wished you knew that. Knowing why he wanted to see you might ease some of the stress you were currently experiencing, though it didn’t help before that you had never formally met the demon before; no, you were simply a maid in his castle.
 He had not been the one to hire you.
   “Is there a reason you aren’t knocking on the door?”
   You jolted as the door in front of you opened to reveal your king, towering over you to the point where you had to tilt your head just to catch a glimpse of his face; you felt unbelievably tiny when you realised he was leaning down to get a look at you.
 Your king was supposed to be a demon, not a giant.
 “I…I’m sorry, My Lord” You paused, averting your gaze before you could mistakenly make eye-contact, instead deciding that the floor was wonderfully decorated and perfect to stare at while you bowed.
 “Looks like you’re nervous, you don’t need to be” His warm, light-hearted chuckle relaxed you more than you could ever hope to describe; you weren’t sure why he was treating you so kindly but it beat the terrifying stories you had heard about the King of the land.
 “I’d offer you the promise that I won’t bite…but, well, I can’t promise that” His words came out in a deep rumble, the sound sending shivers down your spine as his thin tail moved around your waist, the bright flame on the end of it burning through your on-duty clothing while he pulled you into the room with the appendage; closing the door solidly once you were inside.
 “M-My Lord!” You let out a squeal, patting against the flames that had begun to envelope your clothes, somehow leaving your skin unburnt while his tail quickly flicked away from your frantic figure.
 “Oh! I’m sorry, sometimes I forget that the clothes for the maids aren’t, quite fireproof” He apologised as his hand moved to press down against the flames, causing them to vanish without another trace; your clothes completely repaired once he removed his hand from your body. The perks of being a demon, you supposed.
 “It’s okay, My Lord…I just hadn’t expected…that…” You trailed off, not quite certain how to describe what had just happened, while it was true you hadn’t expected it; you also weren’t sure you fully understood it.
 “Do you know why I wanted to see you?” He questioned, moving to stand behind you while his hands settled on your shoulders, causing you to jolt and turn your head to look at him; a large squeal escaping you when you came face to face with the Demon King.
 “Well?” His lips tugged up into a smile as he spoke, molten gold gaze staring through to your soul while your head shook numbly; you truly had no clue why you were here but you were starting to regret your decision to actually show up.
 His kindness was feeling less relieving and more startling with each moment that passed, demons weren’t known to be kind, especially not a demon king.
 “Because I crave you” His explanation was simply enough, yet it left your head spinning, not sure if you had heard him correctly; you could have sworn he had just said he craved you, the strongest demon in all the land, craved you, a human maid.
 It was preposterous.
   “Ah, there, there must be some mistake, My Lord”
   His grip on your shoulders tightened ever-so-slightly as he leaned forwards, lips ghosting over yours as he spoke; stealing away your breath without even kissing you.
 “No mistake, (Name).” The words were so simply, no lie reflected in his gaze as his lips finally merged with your own, his hands turning your body to his and giving you the opportunity to pull away if you so desired; though the opportunity disappeared the moment you melted into him.
 The growl that filled the room had you shuddering, pushing yourself into his embrace more as he greedily devoured your lips with his own, hot tongue eagerly exploring your mouth until you were left with no choice but to pull away; chest heaving from the lack of oxygen that you needed to live.
 “I’ve seen you around” He paused, dipping his head to bite along your neck firmly, trailing kisses along the harsh marks he left behind, his tongue a welcome relief to the stinging pain as your head lulled to the side; allowing him to do as he pleased to you.
 “You work hard, you’re kind…somehow you’ve earnt the respect of my guards and non-human staff…” You could feel his lips stretch into a grin against the sensitive skin of your neck as he spoke, causing you to grip onto his arms, wanting to keep yourself steady.
 “I like that and I want you” His voice mixed in with a deep, animalistic growl while his hands grabbed at your clothes, giving a firm tug before his lips crashed down against your own once more; this kiss more demanding than the last.
 “So, speak up, (Name). You could still walk out of here, this won’t affect anything outside of this room if you deny me” He pulled his head back, his tail curling around your thigh while he began to trail kisses along the tender skin of your neck; awaiting your choice.
 “Indulge me, allow me to show you what it’s like to experience true pleasure if you think you can handle it and I promise you, I will treat you like my Queen” His voice was quiet, alarmingly so as his kisses slowed to a stop, golden gaze focused on you intently while you squirmed within his hold; the choice eating away at you.
 There was so much wrong with this situation morally, when you imagined being with someone like this, it was through developing a relationship first; but this was not what you imagined. This was entirely different, the king was offering you something he offered no other, you were given the chance to go about your day or to give in to him and experience things that you were positive were well beyond your wildest fantasies.
 The choice probably should have been harder than it was, but then again, you were always the one to do anything for anyone and everyone else. It couldn’t possibly hurt to make a rash decision this once, to enjoy yourself and forget about your regular problems; even if it was just for a short time.
   “Alright, My King…I’ll indulge you”
   Your clothes were gone in the next second, his as well you couldn’t help but notice, an embarrassed squeal slipping past your ravaged lips when he lifted you up against his hips; his thick, throbbing erection rubbing up against your smaller body.
 The size difference was suddenly the only thing on your mind while he rubbed against you, large hands and strong embrace more than enough to keep you up against him comfortably as he made his way towards the custom-made bed.
 You were almost tempted to back out, almost.
   “Relax, I can feel your unease”
   Before you could respond, he had laid you back on his bed, his lips moving against your own in a much slower kiss; distracting you long enough so that you didn’t notice his wandering hand until one of his fingers was pushing inside of you, making you gasp out into the kiss.
 “You didn’t really think I would fuck you straight away, did you? Humans are so delicate, if I don’t prep you…it won’t be enjoyable for either of us” His words were muffled against your lips and yet you could understand him clearly enough, your body relaxing beneath his and enjoying his slow ministrations to the fullest.
 It wasn’t long before he had another finger inside of you, stretching you while his thumb rubbed over your clit in slow, firm circles; pulling quiet moans and soft whines from you effortlessly, the quiet noises music to his fluffy, pointed ears.
 “That’s it…better now, isn’t it? You’re nice and relaxed” He removed his fingers slowly, moving them to his mouth and running his tongue along the soaked digits, groaning low at the taste of you; the action leaving you more than a little embarrassed. Though you couldn’t deny how it turned you on, to see the king enjoying you to such extent.
 “Now comes the part I’ve been waiting for…” He trailed off as he lifted your hips off the bed, positioning his larger form between your wonderfully thick thighs before pressing his aching cock up against your drenched folds, rubbing slowly until you relaxed beneath him once more, having subconsciously gone tense out of instinct.
 “Last chance” He warned, leaning down until his forehead was against your own, a wicked grin spreading over his lips; the sight making you bite your lip, all thoughts of backing out now buried deep in the back of your mind.
 “…Are you trying to get me to back out? Don’t tell me the demon king isn’t confident that he can’t please a mere human such as myself?” You regretted your words as soon as they slipped past your lips, his eyes narrowing at the challenge laid plain in your foolishly uttered question.
 He remained silent, snapping his hips forwards harshly and pushing himself inside of you, groaning at the way you struggled to take all of him; the tight fit enough to make him cum right then and there, hot sticky seed filling you before things had even gotten started.
   “Ah…did…”
   You stared up at him with wide eyes while he panted above you, slowly sitting back while removing himself from your warmth, his grin never fading. Though it really should have, at that point.
 “Couldn’t help it…but don’t worry” He paused, moving his hands from your hips down to the mattress below you, eyes shining with unknown intent, spurring you to wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close enough for you to use him to steady yourself.
 “I’m only just getting started” Cries of pleasure followed his over-confident words, his hips moving with unnatural strength, constantly filling you with every inch he had to offer; his cum acting as an even better lubrication as it mixed with your own bodily fluids.
 His relentless thrusts didn’t ease up, no matter how much you whimpered out pleas for him to consider your human limits, or the way your nails bit into the muscles that you so desperately clung onto; instead, your actions encouraged him to push himself.
 With each cry of pleasure that left you, he laughed. Heartily. However, Taishiro wasn’t laughing at you, instead, he was overjoyed with how well you were handling his needs; despite the way you cried out that you couldn’t take it, that you would break if he continued, your body held up.
 You continued to take everything he had to offer, whether it was a slap to your arse, his sharp teeth teasing your sensitive nipples or the too-warm flame licking at your skin dangerously with each sway of the appendage. You were beautiful in his eyes, better than an unfeeling demoness and sturdier than any human he had met so far.
 “You’re starting to squeeze down on me, guess that means your close, huh?” He trailed kisses over your jaw as he spoke, low groans mixed amongst his words as his own orgasm approached hastily; though he would never admit it, your body was a little too compatible with his. He found himself losing control in ways he hadn’t before now.
 “Oh yeah, reminds me” He paused, moving his hand to tangle it into your hair, tugging until you allowed your head to move as he wanted it, letting him stare deep into your eyes once more; an act you had been trying to avoid since he started fucking you so intensely.
   “Make sure you scream out my name. Not that ‘my king’ crap. I want to hear you scream out my name for the entire castle to hear!”
   That was it, not a second later and you were screaming out loudly, his name the only thing on your lips while your body spasmed, walls clamping down around his throbbing cock until he was pushed over the edge, releasing yet another load of his thick cum inside of you; causing him to buck his hips uncontrollably, a little too much of his strength behind the thrusts judging from the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head.
 The pleasure was just too much and your mind had gone blank mid-orgasm, the demon king had kept his promise and there was no way you would ever come to regret agreeing to his advances.
   “Damn…I nearly broke you huh? That’s okay, that’s okay, rest up”
   He removed himself from you carefully as he muttered to himself, making sure you were covered by at least one of the thin sheets that decorated his bed before moving to get something to clean the both of you up.
 “She’s only human after all, gonna need to build her up until she can take more than one round at a time” Taishiro chuckled quietly to himself as he went about his task, more than a little pleased with himself. You really had taken him well and now he could try out more things with you, since he knew you could handle a standard fuck, now he wanted to know if you could take more of his desires.
 He knew it would be a slow process, given how exhausted you seemed just by taking him as you had; but a process that would be worth it all the same.
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eclecticvalor · 3 years
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7 Things I experience as a DID System. Mental Health Awareness Month.
In light of May being America’s mental health awareness month, I wanted to talk about something that has consumed my entire life for the past year and a half: Treatment and healing from a disorder that is stigmatised into the ground by poor representation and misunderstandings both socially and in the medical field. Those who are close to me know first hand how my symptoms and experiences have shaped the way I interact with the world since starting treatment, but aside from my closest friends and family, and the people I live with, I don’t normally talk about the fact that I have Dissociative Identity Disorder, and what that means to me. 
Hi. My name is Atlas, some people call me Cadyn, and I am the primary host of 26 fragmented parts of my consciousness. I am not dangerous, none of my parts or alters are dangerous, and no, it is not like “Split”. 
Dissociative Identity Disorder is a trauma based dissociative disorder listed in both the DSM IV and V,  and is recognized as an uncommon disorder characterized by two or more distinct personality states existing within the same consciousness. These personality states come to be when natural childhood development is disrupted by severe, continued, or repetitive, trauma, the child has a natural inclination towards heavy dissociation, and a lack of adult or parental support to develop the means to cope with the things happening to them.
Unfortunately popular mental health media has seen an uptake in people viewing DID as a quirky “trait”, the ability to have functional imaginary friends living in your head... but in reality DID is a lot darker, a lot scarier, and isn’t something I’d wish upon my worst enemy. Because of this media spike I wanted to share 7 things that living with Dissociative identity disorder means to me
1. Amnesia
Living with DID means that I miss out on a lot of my life. A primary symptom of DID is amnesia. I have no solid memories before the age of 13, and the memories I do have are often skewed, incorrect, or completely false as my brain fought for a way to fill in gaps and cope with the loss of memory. I forget a lot, and not just things like forgetting where I left my wallet and keys, or forgetting the day - those do happen, but I also mean forgetting big things, important life experiences and things I wish with all my being that I could remember like my highschool graduation and my wedding reception. 
I often forget important day to day things that make it difficult to maintain life as an adult, like doctors appointments, work schedules, meetings, and important daily tasks. I’ll forget that I’ve eaten at all that day and risk going days without eating, or overeating due to having no recollection of the last time I’d eaten. I forget birthdays (especially my own), anniversaries, and important holidays. 
To an outsider, who has no idea what’s happening inside my head, this can come across as though I’m thoughtless or unreliable. That I am cold for forgetting an important date, or simply that I just don’t care when this very much is not the case. 
2. Alienation
Oftentimes DID comes with a sense of alienation from people who you’re supposed to know. For me a really clear example of this is when I previously mentioned my childhood memories being skewed - I have a clear memory of a conversation I was having with some blood relatives a few years back in which I mentioned that one family member I had happy childhood memories of, and remembered playing together as kids, but with another family member they were practically a stranger to me. I had, and still have, no memories of ever spending time with them growing up, no memories of having any kind of relationship with them at all. My understanding of our relationship was that it was “forced” because we were family and our parents expected us to exist in the same space as we grew up, but that we never talked. But I was informed by a separate member of the family that I was very wrong, and this “stranger” was actually someone I had been close to growing up. This is a common experience with DID patients, and also a very frustrating one. It creates feelings of “You know me but I don’t know you”, and it’s extremely difficult to trust your own judgement of the people you know, because you often can’t tell if your judgement is skewed by your memories or lack thereof. 
3. PTSD and Flashbacks
A diagnosis of C-PTSD (Or complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) is required for a diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder. This means that while the individual symptoms of DID can be frustrating, scary and sometimes depressing, the most difficult aspect of DID, and the most important to focus on in treatment is the PTSD symptoms. 
PTSD symptoms in DID can be extremely powerful due to the additional dissociative aspect. This can mean that for a lot of DID patients, flashbacks can produce full blown body sensations, hallucinations and terrifying delusions. This is One thing that I find incredibly difficult to talk about, but I also believe is extremely important to understand. It can be embarrassing, shameful and while I only speak for myself in saying this, can cause a lot of guilt and grief. There have been times where I have been experiencing powerful flashbacks and did not recognize my own husband, resulting in lash outs and fear towards him being delusioned into thinking that he was out to hurt me, or had harmful intent for just existing in the same space as I was. 
For me, a single wiff of a familiar smell, hearing a sound, a certain color, an idea, a name, a passing thought or comment can throw my previously stable mental state into one of pure panic, hyperventilation, hallucination, delusion, fight-flight-freeze and reactionary responses. Through treatment I’ve developed adaptive and healthy coping skills and management responses but trauma responses can be so quick, and so unexpected that I don’t always have time to process my coping skills before my body and mind respond in negative ways. 
4. Decision making and skewed Behavior
Because living with DID, means living with a shared or fragmented consciousness, this often means that while I may not remember, my life is still being lived during my time of memory loss. Alters or parts will take control and operate my body, reacting to things, interacting with people, completing tasks and functioning. But oftentimes parts who take control are very different from myself, and make choices and decisions that I wouldn’t normally make, and sometimes decisions I wouldn’t *ever* make. An example of this is the fact that technically I am a conservative voter, despite myself as an individual having leftist or NDP views, or decisions to leave or apply for jobs and work positions that I have no interest in, or that I don’t even have the qualifications or physique to do, or leaving ones that I personally loved and excelled at. This also reflects a lot in everyday life in more subtle things, decisions like what food to eat, things to buy, activities to do shift between parts while they’re in control. 
To outsiders this can look a lot like impulsivity, lack of self-control, or lack of a sense of identity. This is a huge reason why a lot of DID patients are often misdiagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder or Bipolar Disorder because the behaviour between alters can be so drastically different that it can look a *lot* like manic or depressive states. 
5. Denial and Dismissing Trauma
A very common experience among DID patients is denial and being dismissive or disregarding the things that happened to them. I often find myself in a state of questioning whether my symptoms, my disorder, and even my trauma were ever real to begin with. In therapy I find myself saying “It’s not that big of a deal” or “It wasn’t that big of a deal” more times than I’m actually saying anything productive. A huge part of this is why I wanted to make this list, because the media, and a lot of medical circles deny that DID exists or believe it’s impossibly rare and those, while both false, can cause intense feelings of “Maybe I’m just doing this for attention”. DID is a very real, very difficult disorder to diagnose, to treat, and to live with disorder, and while it is uncommon, statistics show that approximately 1-2% of western population is diagnosed, and up to a suspected 7% are living with the disorder undiagnosed because of these misconceptions. It is not common, and it’s not something that everyone is going to have, but it is a very possible response to very real trauma and is a valid diagnosis to give to those meeting the criteria. 
6. Hidden Symptoms
DID is often referred to as a “covert” presenting disorder. What this means is that most commonly outsiders, friends, family, employers and even the patient themselves can have a nearly impossible time recognizing the symptoms, and it often goes unnoticed until an event destabilizes the function of the person’s life. This can lead to a lot of backlash or denial coming from peers and family close to the person. This leads to the patient hearing a lot of:  “I’ve never noticed personality changes”, “You don’t act like you have it”, “You couldn’t possibly have that”, “No, I would have noticed”, “You have to be mistaken”, “There’s no way, it would have been obvious”. And so, so much more. The reality of DID is that it’s *not* noticeable. It’s a safety response that the brain created to protect the psyche from the intense damages that come with long term trauma experiences, so it’s often designed to hide itself from abusers or perceived threats as a way to compartmentalize trauma memories and maintain the ability to survive through stress and unstable situations. Not being able to “notice” is kind of the point in most cases.
 7. Wandering and Dissociative Episodes
Living with untreated or unmanaged DID can potentially be dangerous due to episodes of dissociation, “wandering” experiences (where the patient will wander away from home, family, or life in a confusion, attempt to return to a perceived life never lived, or in a state of belief that their current life is unsafe). For me this took a head last year, and was actually an event that led to the solidification that this disorder was the explanation to my experiences. According to nurses and my husband, I had wandered into the emergency room of a hospital in the middle of the night, with no idea who or where I was, with no idea how to return home, or even where home was. I was wearing a t-shirt, and it had been raining, and my body was so cold they needed to retake my vitals nearly 6 times because they were unable to get an appropriate reading. After discovering my identity, my husband was called to take me home. Working with a therapist helped to develop a safety plan during events like this to prevent harm from coming to my body, or from ending up in newly traumatic environments, but I was lucky. These situations can lead to re-traumatization, victimization, it can lead to kidnapping, assault, it can lead to being injured or harmed by environmental factors and so much more and it is so incredibly important that DID patients work with their therapist to develop solid safety plans proactively to make sure that the patient doesn’t experience any worst case scenarios during episodes like this. 
Conclusion
My experiences are individual to me, and to my psyche. Not everyone will experience the disorder the same way, because not everyone experiences or responds to trauma the same way. I am so lucky, and extremely privileged to be able to access consistent care and treatment, that I found a professional who trusts me, and is focused on stabilizing and supporting. Too many people living with this disorder have no access to supportive mental health care because of the misconceptions that parts of the medical field hold regarding the legitimacy or frequency that the disorder develops, and too many peers and circles of people outcast or disregard the very real, very difficult experiences because they don’t understand the disorder, or believe it doesn’t exist, or believe it looks like split. If you, or someone you know is struggling with Dissociative symptoms, or dissociative identity disorder do not be afraid to reach out to a professional for support, and educate yourself on the reality of the disorder. 
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Hi 🤗 so I have this theory about Daniel and I’m really eager to know your opinion, of course only if you mind to share :) I also get these somehow off/off vibe from Daniel, I don’t really think he is as nice or chill as he shows. I’ve been thinking why he can’t really succeed this year (no doubt, he has talent) while Lando is just flying with the same car, and I think it is because he is absolutely no team player and bc of that he doesn’t fit in. Carlos and Lando had always shown respect, gratitude and honest appreciation for the team while I don’t see any of it from Danny Ric. F1 is not just about the athletes and their talent and about a good car in my opinion. And I think this is what Daniel gets wrong. I somehow have the feeling after some of his interviews, that he expects that a team works for him and not him working WITH THEM together. I think this is what really was different with Carlos, and that is why Lando is the absolut King of McLaren now. We got to see how a big family this team is and I’m kinda sad that Ricciardo just stands out.
Oh and I can’t finish without some Carlando 🙈: I can’t help myself but imagine, how Carlos said to Lando, that from now on he should take care of the others at the Team bc Carlos was always so thoughtful of them (engineers should eat the food they were trying in Japan etc etc) and Lando just doing the maximum effort now, all the media stuff everything. Carlos taught his little Cabron well 🥺🥺
Of course I’m willing to share my opinion to that topic, especially when you ask so nicely, anonym 😊
I mean, first of all I’m not the biggest Daniel fan, I just don’t really like him or at least not that much like other – I think you have already known that before, anonym, but I even tho he is definitely not one my favourites, I don’t think that Daniel is someone who only pretends to be someone he actually isn’t. I think that the way he shows himself to the world or better what we are able to see from him, is real. I’m sure he is not always that big smiley, loud and funny guy, he also has other sides, but I really don’t think that it’s just an act. If so, he is a really good actor, since he is like that since the begging of his F1 career, I guess.
Going to Daniel’s missing success and performance this year – first, I actually still don’t know too much about F1 and all those things and knowledge that comes with it, so if you want to get a professional answer to your questions, you should better ask someone else, but of course I will still try, but remember it’s only my opinion/my thoughts and I really don’t say I’m right, it’s just what I have heard/read and what I’m thinking about this all here.
I mean, first of all Daniel is new in the team and it seems to be normal to struggle in the first time until you get to know the car better and you are able to understand it and handle it to finally get back to your old, performing self. I think Daniel and Seb are pretty similar at the moment. They still try to figure out everything, while their teammates are already used to the team and car. Lando and Lance already exactly know what to do to cause the car to make those moves they want or how far they can go with it, which the new ones still need to learn and find out. Obviously Carlos seems to be a little exception here.. (LUCKILY!)
So, I think that’s the first point why Daniel’s performance is how it is so far. The second point I think has been explained by Lando during the last press conference. I wasn’t aware of that before (like I have said – I focus more on the drivers, not on the sports itself), but it makes sense to me. Lando has said that Daniel maybe also struggles, because he is used to/prefers it to have a car, which is made for him. You know, what I mean? I’m pretty sure McLaren hasn’t made a complete new car just for Daniel when he has just joined the team and they hadn't known back then how he will perform, because they also had to think of Lando, the one who was already with them for two seasons and who will probably be their future. So it would have been first unfair from team to create a car only for Daniel’s skills (like F1 every cares about something being fair..) and if you ask me, it would also be stupid and very risky for them to do so, since he is the new driver in their team.
So Daniel has to live with it that he probably hasn’t got everything he has asked for and that’s why he is maybe still struggling with it. My boyfriend has already told me the same about Seb a few times, because he is the same like Daniel here (I think Lando has also mentioned that in the press conference). It really doesn’t make neither Daniel nor Seb a bad racer, even the contrary, because if they would have a car, which performs like they want, I think it would be pretty hard to beat them. It’s just the if, you know. Because they obviously don’t have that car, at least not at the moment.
But I guess that’s just the sport. Either you get what you want or you have to try to work with what you have got and I’m sure Daniel doesn’t like it how it is at the moment either, but he probably also can’t really help himself. He just has to keep going. It depends on him, how long he wants to try it and of course also the team (he has a three-year-contract or?).
But I’m sure that also the McLarens for the next few years won’t get built according to Daniel’s wishes, especially since we got to know about Lando’s new contract last week. If one of the McLaren drivers gets a car according to their skills, it will probably be Lando (if anyway), but I’m pretty sure it won’t be Daniel. I mean, think about it – it would make zero sense to give Lando not the best possible car, since he is performing the way he does so far. McLaren would only harm themselves with it and I think it wouldn’t bring them forward one bit. They just have to focus on the better driver and at the moment it is definitely Lando and not Daniel, even when he is more experienced and like many would say maybe also more talented.
I really also don’t know if I’m right here, but back in 2019 when Lando and Carlos have joined McLaren, they were both new in the team and maybe McLaren has found a compromise between the two of them and their wishes for the car and their skills. Maybe that’s why they have both been performing really great in those two years they have been teammates. They were on one level almost the whole time, their performances were always pretty close to each other, when not even similar, because the car was made for both, not only for one of them.
And like Lando has also said in the press conference, Carlos obviously is different compared to Daniel when it comes to that. Please, tell me if I’m wrong here again and it also kind of hurt me to say the following, but I think by now Carlos is already used to be the number two driver, to not be the team’s first choice. It definitely was so back in his Toro Rosso days and probably also at Renault. He had to take what he had got there and work with it. McLaren was different, if you ask me, there has never been a number one driver as long as Lando and Carlos had been teammates, or at least I haven’t been able to tell. But Carlos is definitely the number two at Ferrari once again right now, that’s out of question. And I actually don’t mean that in a bad kind of way – I mean, it’s obvious and actually also logical or? It would be the same as with McLaren – it would make zero sense to build the car around Carlos, their new driver, and not for Charles, who is already used to the car and who has also already won races for them. It would actually really be ridiculous if they would do so. Maybe that’s the reason why Carlos struggles less, because next to all the hard work he had already put into it (and I really don’t want to say here that Daniel or Seb aren’t hard workers), but maybe it’s really because he is already “used” to not have a car for his abilities and just trying to make the best out of his situation and the car he has got. You know what I mean?
Carlos and Daniel are pretty different when it comes to that and both types aren’t bad nor perfect. I mean, if Daniel should ever get the right car, he could become a world champion, but if he won’t get that soon, he probably also won’t ever become a world champion. And if Carlos should ever feel that comfortable in a car that isn’t made for him to even really become a world champion, then it’s pretty great for him, but I think the chances aren’t that big.. But he will be able to collect good points for the team, maybe even winning races in his career and be the best of the rest, but will it last to be the best in the end?! 🤷🏼‍♀️
So, but finally back to your actual ask, anonym – I really don’t know Daniel good enough to say if he is a team player or not. I think the biggest difference between Carlos’ relationship to Lando and Daniel’s to Lando is, that the two of them maybe don’t even have a relationship at all. They are probably only teammates and actually there is really nothing wrong about that, because in the end of the day, they only have to be teammates and no one should expect from them to become friends. Maybe that’s the reason why it maybe looks a little like Daniel isn’t a team player, but I think compared to what Carlos and Lando had, no one would look like a team player.
Daniel probably only does HIS job and not also Lando’s – I don’t mean that Carlos has done so, but I also can’t see Daniel staying in the garage to watch his teammate’s race after a DNF/DNS and support him or to even give him tips and share data (as long as McLaren doesn’t tell him to do so). Daniel’s job would have been done for that day, so he would probably don't see a reason why he should stay and “be there” for his teammate. And again, it’s actually okay like that, because that’s what they are there for – racing, doing their jobs and nothing more.
I always say that I’m too soft for this sport and if you ask me, I would also say that it shouldn't just only be about money and who has the most, but yeah – that’s obviously how F1 works sadly.. Also, I could never be a racer, because I would probably instantly start a friendship with my teammate and I would probably also cry if I would hear said teammate swearing about me on the team radio – I’m just not made for it at all. But at the moment it really seems like F1 is all about money, even tho Lando and Carlos has also showed us, that it can be different (their friendship/teamwork) and that this difference can also work, but that doesn’t mean that every teammates have to get along that great, as long as it doesn’t harm the team and the results.
Lando and Daniel are doing what the team expects them to do – they are teammates. Not more, not less and it’s okay that way. What the fans have expected from the two of them is another thing. I know many have thought the two of them would get along easily and they probably even do, but not in the way the fans had hoped for.
Many had hoped that those McLaren challenges will go on like they had while Carlos was still with McLaren or maybe get even more, and funnier content, but it seems like the contrary is happening. And if I’m serious, I think that maybe Daniel has told them, that he isn’t willing to do some kind of challenges. I don’t want to say because of his age (Daniel is not a grandpa), but it’s a fact that Daniel is 10 years older than Lando. So maybe he really wants to only focus on his job and don’t do such challenges. I really don’t know if it had really happened like that, but maybe – who knows..
But yeah, Lando has really used his chance to show the team and everyone else what he is able to do, when he feels comfortable in the team and car and I’m really happy to see him succeed like that. He really deserves his seat in F1 and the new contract. I’m actually pretty proud of our bub 😊
Just give Daniel some more time to get used to the team and the car, who knows what will happen as soon as he has found his confidence at McLaren?! Even tho I hope at the same time, that Lando keeps that amazing performance, since I’m supporting him.
Oh, and yes of course – some Carlando!
I can so picture Carlos laying his hand in a brotherly way on top of Lando’s shoulder and telling him, on the day he had left the team “You belong to the big boys now, cabrón. You have to watch out for team and show them and everyone else your talent and what they would miss without you in F1. I’m sure you can do this. Take care of them and also of yourself.”
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jalapeno-princess · 4 years
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Broken-Hearted Girl
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Mark Tuan X Reader
Genre: Angst with a happy ending
Word Count: 8.7K
Summary: After a petty argument escalates into Mark saying some things he didn’t mean, the two of you end up breaking up on your third anniversary. For the rest of the week, you find solace in your family and you learn how to live with a broken heart.
A/N: I don’t even remember how I stumbled upon this song but after listening to and falling in love with one of their other songs “Friend’s Don’t” by Maddie and Tae, I already knew I was going to like this one also. I recommend you listen to it while reading this imagine, the song really does tug on your heartstrings. I’ve been extremely busy for the last few weeks and so I wanted to put a hold on writing (even if just for a few days) but I’ve actually been staying up till the wee hours of the morning (I feel as if I might have insomnia but who knows) and I actually had a really bad mental breakdown earlier, so I needed something to help calm me down and take my mind off of my negative thoughts. Writing is my favorite escape from how cruel this world can be sometimes (although, my writing is literal shit haha) (and i really don’t care for how I ended this and I’m actually kind of unimpressed with this story) but I hope you guys enjoy it! (I have never been in a relationship before so I haven’t experienced the pain of a heartbreak (and I’m sure knowing my sensitive ass I would actually die)
Hey, mama, how do you get a red-wine stain Out of your favorite dress? Black mascara off a pillow case Cure a one-too-many headache Mama, can I come and maybe stay a few days? This weekend or next And hey, how do you get a red-wine stain Out of your favorite dress?
How does he sleep at night? Mama, the nerve of this guy To leave me so easy Am I gonna be alright? I wanna kick myself for fallin' so hard Mama, can you die from a broken heart?
This was not how tonight was supposed to end. Usually, anniversaries were meant to be extremely romantic. They were meant to celebrate the amount of time you’ve been in a relationship with your significant other and to relish in the love that you had for one another; yet here you were, storming out of your boyfriend—well, now ex-boyfriend’s truck towards your apartment with tears streaming down your face. 
You were too focused on getting inside and just collapsing to the ground that you couldn’t even remember how the night ended so terribly. Just a few hours ago, Mark picked you up with the intentions on surprising you for your third anniversary together. 
The two of you practically couldn’t even keep your eyes, let alone your hands off of each other to the point where Mark was just going to say fuck it and show you just how much he loved you and how happy he was to be able to call you the love of his life with his head between your thighs. However, things didn’t go as planned. 
In fact, you had a hard time processing that he told you he planned on spending the rest of his life with you just a few moments before the argument broke out. As soon as you unlocked the door and stumbled inside, you immediately sank to your knees and let out the most heartbreaking cry you didn’t think you were capable of. Not once in your life did you ever cry as much as you were right now. 
Sure, you’ve lost a few loved ones, failed a couple of very important tests here and there and sometimes you and Mark would watch some of the saddest movies every now and then but nothing ever hurt you as much as Mark’s last words did. 
My life would’ve been so much easier if you weren’t in it. 
Each word felt like a stab in your gut. At the time, you knew you said some things that you didn’t mean and that you were sure had a negative effect on him; but nothing you said was even half as bad as hearing him practically say he regrets your entire relationship. 
It made you overthink the last three years of being with him. Mark was in more or less words, the perfect boyfriend. He was quite the gentleman; he always held doors open for you, pushed you on the inside whenever you’d be walking on sidewalks, pulled out chairs for you, always asked how your day was going and if you were eating all your meals on time. 
He knew your coffee order by heart, he’d buy you cute little things he would see that he thought you would like and he even made you a few playlists of songs that reminded him of you. He took care of you as if you were the most delicate little dandelion; but that didn’t mean he wasn’t rough or dominant behind closed doors. 
Mark knew you like the back of his hand. Three years would do that to someone; he knew each and every mole, freckle, beauty and birthmark on your body. He was well aware of the scar on your knee that was shaped like Texas and how you got it from playing football with your cousins. If perfect was a person, it would be him. 
Everyone who knew of him wanted to be his friend. Mark was a social butterfly; he had a tendency to be friendly and kind to whoever he encountered. His golden heart, extremely kind and generous personality was got you to fall in love with him; on top of his indescribable good looks and charismatic charm. After knowing each other for over seven years, you’ve grown accustomed to having Mark in your life. 
Even before the two of you started dating, he was there for almost every milestone in your life. He was there when you got accepted in to the college of your dreams, he was there when you got an internship with a company you’ve been wanting for a long time, he was there for your first time getting drunk at the young age of 16 and he was the one to rub your back as you threw up the following morning. 
With that being said, he was also there during some of the darkest times in your life. When your grandmother passed away from cancer, it felt as if your entire world fell apart. She was your best friend and you were completely devastated as soon as your mom called you and told you the news of her passing. Mark was at baseball practice around the time that you were heading to the hospital, but once he heard of what happened, he wasted no time in making his way to where you were and pulled you in to his chest the moment his eyes landed on your frail figure. 
It took months of grieving, crying over her absence and Mark constantly whispering sweet words of comfort for you to come to terms with her death and you were entirely grateful that you had someone so patient and understanding as Mark was to be there for you during such a traumatic time. What was going to happen now when he was the reason why you were so distraught? 
Losing your grandmother was extremely painful and even after all these years, you weren’t completely over her death. However, knowing that man you loved more than life itself no longer wanted anything to do with you was a different kind of pain. Although there were a few times in your relationship that you and Mark would disagree, not once did a fight escalate this badly before. 
Your relationship was one that everyone around you seemed to envy. Everyone and their mothers knew just how much Mark loved you and it was obvious by your words and actions that you felt the exact same way. His mom always used to tell you that your love was one for the ages; you both cared for one another in ways that only people who were genuinely in love could experience. For two people who’ve been in a relationship for as long as you and Mark have, you were still in the so called “honeymoon stage” where you constantly had to be around each other even if all you did was laze around all day doing nearly nothing. 
Just being in his presence always made you feel so at ease; so serene. Home wasn’t necessarily a place you lived in or just a roof above your head. Home wasn’t just a place that gave you shelter; home was where you felt the safest, the most comfortable and home was where you were happiest. For the last seven years, Mark Tuan was your home and now, you were homeless. You always felt so protected and loved whenever you were around him and you hated every moment spent away from him. 
The more time you spent crying on the floor, the more you came to the realization that tonight’s events actually happened and Mark was no longer your person. Although neither of you actually called it quits, you knew by the tone of his voice and in his facial expression that it was over. Even if he were to come back to you within the week begging you for forgiveness, you don’t think you could ever forget how his words screwed you up mentally and physically. 
When you decided that you had cried all the tears you had in your body and that you were wasting your time crying over someone who couldn’t give less of a shit about you, you got up from your spot right in front of the door and slowly sauntered off in to the kitchen. Anyone who knew you were aware of the fact that you hated alcohol. 
You weren’t a heavy drinker, and you were sure it’s because you spent your teenage years getting high and wasted to the point where it was no longer fun to do now that it was legal. The bottle of red wine that was in the back of your cupboard was a gift from Mark’s friend Jackson for your birthday a couple of months ago and you didn’t want to seem rude by not accepting it since you didn’t care for red wine or just wine in general. 
But now, you were extremely grateful for his choice in gifts and you made it your responsibility to finish the entire bottle in one sitting before you went to sleep. That’s if you could even find it in yourself to even go to bed. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Mark and what he was doing right now; if he regretted what he said, if he knew you were currently suffering and beating yourself up about the argument. 
How could the two of you go from being seconds away to ripping each other’s clothes off, to you drinking imported red wine straight from the bottle to take your mind off of your broken heart? As you continued to drink the wine, it was in that moment of sitting on your kitchen floor and banging your head on your refrigerator that you noticed your front door had a dent in it. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were to go up to it and see that you broke it by how hard you slammed it out of anger, but at this point you didn’t even care. 
Your mind, your heart and your body were so numb that nothing else seemed to matter and if anything, the door represented your mental state and your relationship. Seeing as how you were the definition of a light weight, it didn’t take you long to completely knock out on the hard tile. Although that last sentence continued to replay over and over; taunting you as a painful reminder that you were living your actual nightmare, it was the fact that he gave up on you so easily as if you meant nothing to him that really killed you. 
Was he planning to breakup with you and used this argument to actually go along with it? How long ago did he decide he no longer wanted to be with you? Everything seemed to be going so good for the two of you; so when did he decide he had enough of your relationship? You weren’t surprised when you woke up the next morning with an extremely painful migraine and a crook in your neck. 
This is why you despised any type of alcohol and never understood why Mark and his friends constantly went out to bars whenever they hung out. However, you felt as if this was going to be your way to ease the pain and knowing that alone made you want to cry again. After taking a few moments to process what you were going to do for the rest of the day, you got up to take some pain killers and to look at your current state to see how much of a mess you probably were. 
Almost half an hour later, you found the strength to get up and walked to your bathroom. Your head was throbbing and your bones ached from sleeping on the floor, but nothing hurt even half as much as your heart did. As soon as you saw your reflection, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. You looked horrible. Your hair looked like a bird’s nest; tangled and all over the place. You had mascara stained on your cheeks, your eyes were puffy and if you weren’t so numb, you would’ve screamed at the wine stain in the dress you were wearing; your favorite dress to be exact. 
Mark bought you that dress a couple of months ago because he knew it would look good on you and he was right. The first time you wore it, it didn’t stay on for too long. It was your favorite dress for many reasons; not only did your boyfriend buy it for you, but as someone who was extremely insecure with her body, no matter how many times Mark would make it known how much he loved your body and thought you were the most beautiful and sexiest woman to exist, the dress made you feel beautiful. 
You wore this dress with so much confident but now, it was stained with a deep maroon color right around the chest area and it was a brief representation of the hell you were going through. Like the fool that you were, the fool who was madly in love with the person you wished you could hate right now, you checked your phone to see if he tried to get in touch with you at all and you felt your stomach sink when you saw nothing. 
No texts, no calls, no voicemails, no “I’m sorry, I made a mistake”, no “I love you” or “I miss you.” Couples went through breakups all the time so why did you feel pathetic for something you weren’t at fault for? The rest of the week felt like you were dreaming the same nightmare over and over again. You could still see the anger and rage in his eyes when he told you that you were annoying and that he wasted his night with you when he could’ve gone out with his friends. You were sure there was a chance he was with them right now and you didn’t care at all. 
If he was so quick to let you go without a care in the world, you weren’t going to allow yourself to cry over him no matter how much you wanted to. But you were only human. Three years may not be considered “a long relationship” and you were still kind of young to get married and settle down but you knew Mark was the man you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with. The two of you talked about your futures on multiple occasions and every time Mark would talk about his plans, you were in each one. 
On the fifth day, you came to terms with the idea that it was really over. You tried lying to yourself by thinking that he was going to come back and that he just needed some time to calm down, but you gave up on that idea entirely knowing how Mark could be. Two things about the older boy that you could do without was his pride and how stubborn he could be. 
He tried his best not to show you those sides of him because he didn’t want you thinking negatively of him or being afraid of him; however there were occasions where he would get in to it with one of his friends because he always had to have the last word. With that being said, you knew Mark wasn’t going to give in. He wasn’t going to initiate reconciling with you even if that’s what he wanted because that’s just who he was. 
A week away from work was what you needed to really try and get yourself together again. It wasn’t until your mom called asking how you were doing and if you and Mark wanted to stop by for dinner that you realized you weren’t okay nor were you ready to go out and put on a fake smile while pretending nothing was wrong. When your mom called you, you let her go to voicemail multiple times. 
Although your mom was your best friend and you probably needed someone to be there to comfort you during your heartbreak, you weren’t ready for pity or sympathy. The only person you needed was Jack Daniels. You hated what you had become in less than a weak and you hated that you allowed Mark to have this effect on you. It was only natural for you to be responding to your breakup in this way; you were only human. But you were now a pathetic alcoholic who was wasting her time crying over a man who was no longer in her life. 
Three shots of vodka, two beers and one shot of tequila later and you absentmindedly left a lengthy voicemail to your mom, telling her exactly what happened all the while begging her to let you stay at your parent’s house for a couple of days. Maybe even weeks. Deep down, you knew you needed to be around people no matter how much you enjoyed being alone because your mind always found away to think about Mark. 
You told her how Mark yanked out your heart and stepped on it repeatedly. You told her about getting drunk every single day for the last week, how much you hated him for what he was putting you through and how you hated that you were letting such a stupid boy control your emotions. You also asked her if your dad could come over on one of his days off to take a look at your door. She didn’t take long to respond back to you nor were you surprised when you heard her knocking on your door while she quickly pulled you in to her embrace once you opened it. 
“Oh yeah sweetheart, you really broke your poor door. Come here baby, mama’s got you.” 
She helped you bring your bags to the car and the two of you stayed in silence the entire ride to your parent’s house. You had a feeling she had a few questions she wanted to ask you and that there was a couple of things she wanted to say but you were glad that the only noise in her car was the sound of the air conditioner. You weren’t ready for any kind of human interaction or a conversation you knew would drive you even more crazy. 
All you wanted was for your mom to rock you back and forth like how she used to when you were younger and tell you that everything was going to be okay even if you lost all hope on it being so. When she pulled up to the garage, she told you to stay put so that she could help you get out of your car and you felt like such a child. Out of all your siblings, you were the closest one to your mom and even if you were an adult living on your own with a full time job and everything, you were always going to be her little girl. 
Seeing your child cry was always painful for a mother, but because the reason behind your sadness was something out of her control, she felt like she couldn’t do anything but console you and get you whatever you needed to try and make you feel better. Once you made it inside of the house, she led you to your old bedroom and let you get settled in so that she could prepare you something to eat. You didn’t have the heart to tell her you weren’t all that hungry; you haven’t had much of an appetite in the last week and you were sure she noticed your sudden weight loss. 
A part of you wanted to ask her to forget about it, especially because being in your old room brought back so many memories of Mark and how he would sneak in on school nights and how the two of you would stay up talking about anything your hearts desired. Being alone wasn’t something you’d think you’d ever get used to, especially because Mark was like your shadow. Wherever you went, Mark followed and unlike most people who would probably complain about his clinginess, you enjoyed it profusely. 
Knowing that Mark always craved your presence and needed to be around you to maintain his sanity made your heart flutter. This has been the longest you had to be without him and every day felt like an entire month. It’s as if time went by frustratingly slow because the universe was aware of your heartbreak and wanted to make you suffer for whatever reason you were unsure of. 
Taking a look around your old bedroom, you could feel your chest grow heavy when you saw the few pictures you had of you and Mark from when you were growing up and tears were soon building up at your eyes. The two of you looked so happy together; you were just a couple of kids who dreamt about so many wonderful things that life had to offer. Little did either of you know that one day, you would fall in love with one another before you could even comprehend the meaning behind that silly four letter word. 
You silently cursed to yourself for getting all worked up again; you came to your parent’s house as a way to heal on your own and to surround yourself with people who love you and care about your well-being. You just needed to have some kind of support system or else you’d drive yourself crazy back at your apartment thinking about what you could’ve done to have prevented the breakup from happening. The gentle knock on your door took you by surprise and you almost ended up dropping the frame. 
She released a long sigh before she walked over toward you and took the picture from out of your hands. The last thing your mom wanted to do was to make you even more upset by saying something to trigger you or cause you to overthink. But she couldn’t handle seeing you so broken; so defeated especially because you were an actual ray of sunshine. Your smile alone could light up an entire room and your personality was so bright and bubbly, people enjoyed your company because of your enthusiasm. 
As much as your mom liked Mark to the point where she would secretly plan out your future wedding with his mom whenever they’d go out to lunch together, she wanted to find him and make him regret what he did to her baby girl. She was shocked to say the least when she got your voicemail and at first, she couldn’t even understand what you were saying because your speech was so slurred and she couldn’t hear a word you were saying through your tears. Mark made it known to his surroundings that you were his entire world and all he cared about was making sure you were well taken cared of and that you were happy, healthy and got everything you deserved. You were so agitated just by seeing his photo and you wanted to scream. 
He was probably already over the entire thing and although it killed you to think like this, you couldn’t help but feel as if he was already looking for someone new. Why else would he have left you so easily? There must’ve been someone on the side but who were you kidding? That man planned an entire night out for you; to celebrate your life together. Your mind came up with all these different reasons for the breakup so you could get some closure but you weren’t stupid. You knew Mark loved you, you just couldn’t find a reason why he would tell you he regrets your relationship and wishes he never met you. 
You despised yourself for trusting Mark with your entire being; for allowing him to see each and every part of you. The good, the bad, the ugly. You hated that he was the only man you’ve ever loved with your entire physical, mental and spiritual being. You were upset with yourself for falling so hard for him and giving him the control to do such a thing to your heart. The feeling of being in your mom’s arms again after moving out almost two years ago was extremely comforting and very calming. 
She ran her fingers through your hair and continued to stay silent and waited until you stopped crying completely before telling you exactly what was on her mind. After your sobs slowly died down, she tapped on your forehead to get your attention. 
“Sweetheart, have I ever told you the story of when your father left me back when we were in college?” 
You shook your head in disagreement but widened your eyes in shock at her revelation. From what you were told, your parents were college sweethearts. Your dad fell in love with her when one of their mutual friends asked him to pick her up from work once and he was extremely grateful that their car was in the shop at that time or else he would have never met his soulmate. 
They’ve been together for over twenty years and not once have you heard this story, but now you were heavily interested. You always loved hearing stories about your parents relationship; it gave you high hopes for your own relationship and since you were going through a breakup right now, you could only hope the story would lift up your spirits. 
“We were together for only three months at the time and it was the first relationship I had where I genuinely cared for him. He was so kind, so flirtatious and used the cheesiest pickup lines to make me laugh. I knew he was going to be someone special in my life. Unfortunately, at the time your dad was the only one in his group of friends that was in a relationship. They told him that being in a relationship was “lame” and that he was still so young to be wasting his time being tied down to one girl. He tried to defend and fight for our relationship, but his friends continued to pester him over it, so he broke up with me. I was devastated, I cried for hours on end and couldn’t eat anything. But he showed up only three days later with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a bucket of fried chicken. He told me he loved me and refused to be without me. It was quire romantic if you ask me.” 
You giggled at the idea of your dad asking your mom to take him back with some Popeyes. You were upset to hear that your dad’s friends coerced him in to breaking up with her. However, you were happy to hear that it didn’t take too long for him to realize your mom was it for him.
“He’ll be back y/n. I know he will. That boy—he loves you. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, I can tell in his actions and with the way he looks at you that he’s head over heels in love with you. His mom also mentioned it a couple times; he’s—what is that word kids your age use these days? Whipped for you? She said he has stars in his eyes whenever you come up in conversation. It’s serious when a boy talks about you to his momma. One day when the two of you are married with a family of your own, you’ll look back on this little bump in the road and laugh—“
“Please don’t say that. You didn’t see the way he looked at me when he told me all of those hurtful things. It didn’t even feel like he was my boyfriend, it was as if I was looking at a stranger. It makes me wonder, did he ever really love me if he had no problem leaving me?”
“I’m serious y/n. I don’t know what things were said that night or how things ended up the way they did, but when it’s real, when it’s love, you just know. He probably looks just as bad and if not worse than you do. I know it hurts. Breakups are rough, especially because it’s obvious you and Mark were made for one another. But what have I always told you? If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, then it’s yours forever and if it doesn’t, well baby, it just simply wasn’t meant to be. He was probably just in the heat of the moment and said some things he probably didn’t mean. I’m sure he’s regretting this entire thing. Mark’s a smart boy; if he knows what’s best for him, he’ll be yours again in no time. Until then, get out of this funk y/n. There’s so many wonderful things in the world to do and to be grateful for. Do you really want to look back on your twenties and regret wasting your time crying over a boy when you could be doing so many different activities and go on so many adventures?”
You released a frustrated sigh and shook your head again. She was right. You were tired of crying and drinking so much. There was only so much alcohol your body could handle and it wasn’t worth all the hangovers. 
“Maybe we should tell your dad what happened so he can mess around with him a little bit and teach him a lesson.”
The idea and the way your mom said it made you let out a genuine laugh. Your parents were always so protective over you and it was probably because you were so kind-hearted that people tended to take advantage of how polite you could be. However, even if she meant it as a joke, you were nervous at what your dad would do if he found out about what Mark said to you and how the breakup was slowly killing you. You were a daddy’s girl and your dad never failed to do anything to make you smile; even if it meant scaring your ex-boyfriend which you knew you didn’t want him doing. 
Your mom stayed with you for a few hours until it was timed for her to make dinner and you ended up falling asleep because of how mentally exhausted you were. No matter how much your mom loved it whenever you stayed over, she didn’t want you to get used to running away from your problems and hiding when things got too difficult. She wanted you to learn to live without him on your own. Your mom knew that you were going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but one day you would heal from this entire situation and realize that your breakup was a learning experience. 
Plus, you had to return back to work sooner or later or you would lose your job completely. A cloud of sadness came once your dad pulled up to your apartment complex and they offered to walk you to your door but you weren’t sure if you’d allow them to leave if they did. They both pulled you in for hugs as they said their goodbyes and you actually cried as you watched them drive away. Why did life have to be so complicated? You were so unhappy to the point where you thought you would actually die from a broken heart. 
The aspect of dying from a broken heart was extremely devastating; you’ve heard about it on multiple occasions. It was normal for people to be so sad, so distraught and have no energy or motivation to do anything. They wouldn’t eat, sleep and only spend most of their days crying out what was left of their hearts. You didn’t think going through a breakup would cause this much damage to you and your well-being; but contrary to what your mom told you, Mark wasn’t just any boy. He was the owner of your heart and you understood that he could torment you like this because you allowed him to. 
You stopped by the mailbox to see if you got anything before heading up to your apartment. When your parents were driving you back to your place, you decided that you would actually get up and do something today. Whether it was tidying up your place from how messy it had become from your one too many drunken stupors, or going to the cleaners to get that wine stain out of your dress. As you began to approach your unit, you noticed there was something sitting right in front of your door. 
The closer you got, you realized that it wasn’t just something, it was someone. Your heart felt as if it was about to jump out of your chest when you realized exactly who the person was slumped up against the wall. It was exactly a week since your fight and you weren’t sure if it was what your mom had said about your love and how beautiful it was, or because you were miserable without him but you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and beg him to come back to you. 
You expected to be angry if you were to see him again because of all the trauma you suffered through; yet seeing him tugged on your heartstrings and it was as if you pushed the entirety of the last week to the back of your mind. When Mark heard footsteps coming towards him and he looked up to see who it was, he had to hold himself back from running towards you. Your mom was right, just like she normally was. 
This week was one of the worst weeks of his entire life. He was suffering without you. He never hated himself more than he did when he said all those things and he hated himself even more for not running after you as soon as those spiteful words fell from his mouth. You were the best thing that has ever happened to him, and if things were to end up differently that night, he would’ve been able to show you exactly what you meant to him in more ways than one. 
He wanted to call you, to text you and to tell you how stupid he was and how he didn’t mean a single word that he said to you but words were never his forte. Nor did he want to give up his pride even if it meant preventing this last week from ever happening. It was all his fault, or so he kept telling himself and he couldn’t go one more day without you in his life. It was too much for his heart to withstand. 
He was going to do everything in his power to get you to forgive him, even if it meant having to stay away from you for a little while longer for you to completely heal from this experience. As soon as he drove away from your apartment that night, he knew he fucked up and accidentally punched a hole in his wall out of anger. He was so selfish; so insensitive and didn’t think that his harsh words would have any negative effect on you. 
After hearing your little jabs at him, he wanted to hit you where it hurt the most but if he knew then what he knew now, he would’ve kept his mouth shut and just dropped you home so that you both could calm down and not say everything you both said to one another. You let out a deep breath and tried to prepare your heart to hear why he was there and to be ready to fight if the situation called for it. 
“Hey.” 
You looked up at him and you could feel tears brimming at your eyelids. He looked so tired and you knew for a fact that he must’ve cried with how his eyes practically mirrored the puffiness of yours. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent and his face looked smaller than it already was. It made you cringe; Mark was never one to portray himself as someone weak or someone who had feelings and emoted whenever something was up with him. If he had a problem, he’d deal with it on his own and this was no different. 
Good. He deserved to have suffered as much as you did. 
“Hi. How long have you been here for?” He shrugged before scratching the back of his head; something he normally did when he felt like he was in the wrong or whenever he was embarrassed and you took it as the former. 
“Um—since Wednesday I think.” 
Your eyes widened in shock at his answer. Wednesday? So that means he was sitting outside of your apartment for the last three days? 
“Wait, you’ve been here for three days? Are you crazy? Mark, you could’ve gotten sick! It’s cold out here! And what about food? Have you even been eating? You look so malnourished, why would you—“
“You and I both know why. I fucked up. Big time. It took me a while to think about it at this perspective because I was just so mad and I wanted to blame you for the way things ended that night but I came to the conclusion that this was my fault. I’m the one who fucked up something so amazing, so beautiful and so perfect because I was a fucking asshole y/n and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” 
In order to prevent wandering eyes of your neighbors, you opened the door and motioned for him to walk inside so that the two of you could have your privacy. 
“Shit y/n, what happened to your door? You have to practically force it open—“
“You don’t want to know. My dad is supposed to come over this weekend to try and fix it. I think the hinges must’ve came out or something. Can I get you something to eat? Drink?” 
He shook his head and you could see in your peripheral vision that he was hesitatingly reaching out for your hand, probably in attempts to bring you to the couch so he could continue the conversation from where the two of you began from but he just walked over to the living room and took a seat. You wanted to hear everything he had to say and you were going to make it a point to let him know what this breakup did to you. 
His focus was on the multiple empty bottles of alcohol sitting on your coffee table and because he was well aware of how much you hated alcohol, it was apparent that you must’ve had it really rough if you felt the need to turn to alcohol for solace. When he felt like he was ready to talk, he turned around to face you and released an exasperated sigh. 
“I’m sorry it took so long to come here—oh, these are for you. I actually had to go back to the store because the first two bouquets actually died probably because they weren’t being watered and I bought your favorite cookies—but I got hungry so there’s only three left.” 
He handed you the beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and you giggled at the sight of only three cookies in a big container but it made you smile nonetheless. 
How romantic. 
You politely thanked him and placed both of the gifts down on the table before speaking up. 
“You should’ve called me, I wouldn’t allow you to have waited out here for me. Are you crazy Mark? What if something happened to you—“
“Then so be it. I’d probably deserve it. Fuck, you don’t understand how much of a mess I was without you and how much I’ve been suffering because the image of your pained face would not leave my mind once this entire weekend. I had a feeling you weren’t home when you weren’t answering the door but then again, you could’ve looked through the peephole and decided you wanted nothing to do with me and I wouldn’t have blamed you. The old lady next door was kind enough to offer me some food here and there but I’m sure she probably thought I was a thief or something when she first saw me. I should’ve called but you and I both know why I didn’t. I kinda wanted to give you your space because I’m sure what I said probably got under your skin. I ruined our special day and I’m sorry if I broke your heart—with the way you’re looking at me I’m sure I hurt you pretty badly huh.” 
You looked up at him with a melancholic look in your eyes; that had to be the understatement of the year. If you didn’t have your family around to help you take your mind off of your failed relationship, you were sure you would have ended up in the hospital sooner or later. 
“You broke me Mark. You made me feel like I was worthless. You made me think there was someone else or that you fell out of love with me and I genuinely wanted to die. Pathetic right? I just—I didn’t know how to function without you and waking up every morning felt like a chore. At some points I felt like I couldn’t even breathe. I’ve heard heartbreaks caused by breakups were an unfathomable pain that are impossible to bounce back from and some people even die from a broken heart I just never would’ve thought it would happen to me. Especially because we were so happy; so in love and I would have never thought one stupid, meaningless argument could cause us to separate. You made it seem like leaving me was so easy and hearing that you wished that we never dated in the first place is what truly fucked me over. I became a fucking alcoholic because of you—I blamed the entire breakup on myself even if I didn’t say anything that I knew would inflict any sort of pain to you because the idea of hurting you hurts me. It’s sad to know you don’t feel that way.”
“That’s where you’re wrong y/n. I regretted everything that I said as soon as I said them but the damage was already done. Please believe me when I say this, I didn’t mean a fucking word. That was just the anger and the irritation talking for me. My life before you always felt so empty, and once you came in to it, you made everything so much better. You filled my life with color and made my heart soar by just the mere thought of you. I could never regret you or our relationship; you’re all I could ever want or need in this hell forsaken world. You know the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you—“
“BUT YOU DID MARK.” 
You didn’t mean to yell, but it was all the built up emotions you’ve been holding in that finally released itself and you knew you wouldn’t be able to forget the way he shivered at your tone. Not once in the many years of knowing you did Mark ever see you so mad. You were always such a shy and introverted person; he didn’t think you were capable of such an intonation. He hated that he was the reason for your hostility and he was afraid that it was too late. It may have only been a week, but what you went through was enough to change your warm-hearted personality in to a cold and aggressive one. 
“Nothing will ever change the fact that you gave up on us—on me. If you knew there was a chance that your words would affect me the way that they did, then you wouldn’t have said anything at all; but you said it all without hesitation like you did mean it. I was coming to accept our breakup for what it was. Sure I was hoping you would come back; hell this is the closest I ever felt to God because I found myself praying every single day for him to show me a sign. For him to heal me and make it known that I would be okay. I’d be lying if I said I’m not the least bit content that you’re here but—I really don’t know what to make of that.” 
To your surprise, he made his way toward you and reached for your hands. As intimidated he was by how you were acting towards him, he knew he had to grow some balls and man up, or he would lose you forever and the tiny box that was in his pocket would no longer have any use. 
“I don’t know what to say or do that would explain how sorry I am and how much I wish I could go back in time and prevent any of this from happening. I don’t know how to stop you from hurting, and to get you to forgive me—I‘ll do anything to fix this y/n. Please—tell me what to do. I can’t—I can’t lose you. Tell me you don’t love me, and then I’ll—I’ll—fuck, there’s no way I can let you go. Please baby—you asked God for a sign and I came here tonight to try and fix my mistakes. That has to mean something right?” 
Hearing him sound so desperate, so willing to do whatever you wanted him to in order to bring your relationship back to what it was made you feel so many emotions. As much as you wanted him to give you some time to think, you knew you’d take him back. It was going to take some time to forgive him, and to get his words out of your mind completely, but Mark was everything you ever wanted for the rest of your life. 
Why were you going to continue suffering on your own and staying away from him when all you wanted was to have him back in your life? You cupped his cheek softly with your palm and placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Feeling him smile against your lips sent a fire through your veins; Mark’s kisses always had quite the effect on you. His lips were so pink and so pretty and you loved every single moment that they were pressed against yours. 
“You can start by paying for my dry cleaning. I got a huge wine stain on the dress I was wearing because I got drunk.” He giggled in to your neck before placing a chaste kiss there. 
“Done. You silly girl. God, I missed you so much baby. I also think I have something that could win me some brownie points but I hope tonight ends the way last week should have.” 
The question of what he was referring to was at the tip of your tongue, but before you could emit anything, he was now kneeling on the ground right in front of you and pulled out a red box. Your heart began to race on a you put two and two together; he was going to propose to you. 
“I know, this is probably not how you wanted this to happen and I promise you I had different ways in mind on doing this—but after losing you, I realized that it didn’t matter how, where or when I would ask you to spend the rest of your life with me; all that matters is that I did. I was actually planning on proposing you at the beach once we were finished eating, but I chickened out like the coward that I am. And I guess I was irritated with myself and took it out on you that night and I know I said it so many times, but I will continue apologizing until I make up for all the pain I’ve put you through. I’m sorry y/n. I don’t deserve you—I don’t deserve being able to do this right now but this last week without you made me realize that I can’t live if I have to do it without you.” 
He grazed your wrist with his thumb and you were sure he did that to calm down his nerves, but it was so cute. You loved seeing him so flustered and so nervous and you loved knowing that you were the reason behind his now shy demeanor. 
“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can remember. Every time I would drop you back home once we hung out back in high school, I felt this emptiness in my chest. Then I realized how much I loved hearing you laugh knowing that I was the reason behind it. I loved spending time with you and being around you. I loved the feeling I got whenever we were together. You and I can literally do nothing but I’m my happiest when I’m with you and that’s when I realized you were more than just a friend to me. These last few years with you have made me the happiest man alive. You mean everything to me baby—I wish I would’ve told you this sooner so we wouldn’t have wasted time apart but I’ll make up for it the rest of my life—if you let me of course. I’ll take good care of you my love. I’ll continue to love you and give you the world on a silver platter. Y/n, will you do me the greatest honor and marry me?” 
You were sure if someone else were in your shoes, they probably would’ve said no right off the bat. Heartbreak really did change a person. It made your whole aspect on life change for the worse and you knew you weren’t the same person you were a week ago. But you’ve dreamt about this situation on many accounts. There were times where you’d sleep over Mark’s place and you’d stay up looking at him in admiration and thinking about what your future together would look like. 
Sure, you would have preferred this surprise before all the unfortunate events that happened, but you were excited and speechless nonetheless. You sank to your knees and sat down on his lap; bringing your hands up to his face and pulling his lips up to yours. You couldn’t help the snicker that fell from the back of your throat when you felt a tear fall from his eyes on to your cheek. His hands were tight on your waist as he deepened the kiss, licking and sucking on your lips before all but gently shoving his tongue in between your teeth. When you felt his excitement pressing against your core, you pulled away and ignored the choked out whine that fell from his lips as you placed your forehead against his. 
“Yes. I would love to marry you Mark. I love you so much, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Thank you for coming back to me love.” 
The way he was looking up at you pulled on your heartstrings; you couldn’t wait to tell your mom of the news. You knew she would probably hit you with “I told you so” but she would also be extremely happy for you. He abruptly stood up and took you with him, wrapping your thighs around his waist. You knew exactly what his plans were as he made his way to your room and you were excited to say the least at what he was going to do with you.
Once the two of you entered the bedroom, he didn’t waste anytime throwing you on to the bed and attacking your face with kisses as he ran his hands along your body; needing to touch you everywhere. Right as he began dragging his fingers along your clothed heat, he gripped at your chin and made sure you were making direct eye contact with him. 
“You know, since your door is already broken, I don’t see any problem in breaking your bed also—ow! What? You’re going to be my wife one day soon, so it’s only natural for me to want to fuck the living shit out of you in celebration of our engagement—I’m actually starting to reconsider this whole marriage thing. Give me back that ring, I’m gonna go sell it and buy me the PS5–“
“You wouldn’t dare Tuan, I’ll end you—“
“Just shut up and let me love you damnit.” 
You couldn’t stop the laughter that came after his little complaint. You still had yet to process that Mark was currently on top of you, ready to make love to you and to show you just how much he missed you. He playfully poked your cheek to break you out of your trance and squeezed your butt as a force of habit. 
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
“I’m just really happy, that’s all.”
 He gave you his signature cheeky grin and left a long, sloppy kiss on your lips. 
“Good. That makes the two of us, and that’s the only emotion you’re going to feel now that you’re stuck with me. Now, let’s make up for lost time shall we?”
Can you ask daddy if he's got time To come and look at my front door? It got slammed last night And now it don't close right And just promise that you won't tell him everything And keep that pistol in the drawer Mama, please don't say I'm gonna laugh about this someday You didn't see the way he drove away
How does he sleep at night? Mama, the nerve of this guy To leave me so easy Am I gonna be alright? I wanna kick myself for fallin' so hard Mama, can you die from a broken heart? Oh, a broken heart
Can your knees give out from prayin' so hard? (Prayin' so hard) Can you go blind from cryin' in the dark? (In the dark) Was it ever really real If he don't feel like I feel?
How does he sleep at night? Mama, the nerve of this guy To leave me so easy Am I gonna be alright?
How does he sleep at night? Mama, the nerve of this guy To leave me so easy Am I gonna be alright? I wanna kick myself for fallin' so hard Mama, can you die from a broken heart? A broken heart
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geniusgub · 3 years
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north//chapter fifteen
genre: angst
warnings: prison, mentions of solitary confinement, mentions of physical abuse, spoilers for The Good Doctor, spoilers for Lucifer, alcohol, drugging
word count: 7.1k
summary: spencer gets used to life in prison in the worst ways. amelia goes through a rollercoaster of emotions and tries to cope with spencer being out of reach. she tries to stay positive and convince others that she is okay.
i’d like to say once again that having a good understanding of the prison arc is helpful in reading this fic. i don’t explain every single detail (because it’s unnecessary to) and if you’re not familiar w the storyline, it’ll be harder to comprehend.
school is over so i’ll have more time to edit and post!!!! yay!! enjoy the chapter :)
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SPENCER
"Is that clear?"
"Yes, yes, it's clear!"
My heart pounds against my chest and that's all I can feel. Absolute fear and absolute helplessness. I can't do anything here. I've accepted that but maybe I've just been lying to myself. How can I ever accept that I can't do anything to protect myself or protect others? I’ve spent my life protecting. I need to protect. I need to. 
The fear and the panic are overwhelming and I'm thrashing around. I can't do anything to stop it. I wish it would stop. The panic is overwhelming. It's consuming. It's eating me alive. It’s too uch. It’s way too much. I need to go and protect. I need to protect.
"Help! Help!"
I jerk awake, drenched in sweat and my hair matted to my forehead. The images of my dead friend are still flashing in my head and as badly as I want to forget, I know I never will. My back and bottom ache from the metal cot I’m on, my limbs stiff in the smaller-than-twin, poor excuse of a mattress.
I twist my body and reach under my pillow, pulling out the journal that my counselor had given me and the pencil, scribbling down my stream of consciousness as quickly as I possibly can. It's barely readable in my chicken scratch writing but who cares enough to read what I have to say anyway? No one. Nobody cares here. Nobody cares about me. I’m nothing.
Getting more and more intense. Got to fall deeper in to beat them. I've lost friends before, but not like this. Not in a box where I have no control. Or do I? Starting to think like them, starting to survive like them. I'm here because I made a choice. What if that means I don't get out alive?
My blood runs cold as I dot the question mark with my trembling hand. I swipe my hand across my dripping forehead and grimace at how wet my hand comes back. I throw my journal onto the floor and lay back down, forcing my eyelids closed.
How could I expect myself to sleep? I'm foolish to think I will. But I keep up the illusion for a while and keep my eyes closed, hoping that sleep will draw me in, but it never does. I just keep replaying the events that plague me every night, and eventually, my eyelids snap open again. The gory images were too much. Then the beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed images became too painful. I scrunch up my eyebrows when I feel a headache forming between them.
My eyes immediately land on the journal, and red hot flames replace my brown orbs. That journal is horrible. It's filled with depressing content and it's falling apart and it's a disgusting brown color. It doesn't have my name in beautiful calligraphy on the front, and perfect drawings of beakers and coffee cups and strawberries and books and records players and decks of cards, and my confessions of love for my girlfriend inside. It doesn't have any of that beauty on the inside. No, this journal contains my deteriorating mind and my disappearing conscience.
Barely having control of my tired muscles, I roll off the bed and land on my hands and knees, holding in my grunts of agony. The cell block is almost silent, aside from the fans blowing around stale, warm air, and I don't intend to piss off anyone by disrupting their sleep. I keep my mouth shut after the initial impact sound. 
I make the bed. I fold the corner of the sheets, so they are absolutely perfect. I fold the blanket and tuck it under the mattress. I smooth my hands over the top of the bed to make it perfect. It has to be perfect. If the bed isn’t perfect, it will get torn apart by the officers. They will rip up my bed and take away my blanket and pillow and humiliate me in front of the whole cell block. I don’t need that to happen again. I experienced that on my first week here and I vowed to never let it happen again. I make the bed and then I make it again, then fix it, then arrange it perfectly one more time. Finally. Perfection. It has to be perfect.
I push my journal against the wall and lay on my back, setting my feet flat against the floor and tucking my hands behind my head. I keep count in my mind as I lift my chin to my knees, ignoring the burn in my abs and the sharp pain in my spine from the concrete I'm rolling my bones against.
Once I've reached my goal number, twenty higher than yesterday’s number, I roll over onto my hands and lift myself up, and start my press ups. I begin a new, higher count in my head as I continuously bring my nose to the concrete, and with each time my biceps flex, the anger flares up. I clench my jaw and my stomach bubbles and my head gets light.
Fuck prison. Fuck it. Fuck the fact that I have to be here. Fuck Frazier and fuck his gang and fuck his shank and fuck the fact that he killed Luis. Fuck this whole situation. This is madness.
I'm becoming them. I am them. I either become them or I die, and I refuse to die in here. I refuse to die without curing Alzheimer's and getting married and having children and spending my life hunting the very people I'm locked in here with. I refuse to die knowing that there's a whole life I could live if I keep fighting. I refuse to break law after law in here like my life doesn't matter in the free world. I refuse to lose the person that I was, even if he's slipping further and further away by the second. Even if every time I try to recall the person I was, the images of my own face get more and more blurry. They’re hard to make out.
And maybe he's already gone and I've already sucked in the traits of the felons around me. Maybe I just refuse to accept who I am now. That's more likely than the lies I feed myself.
I work my muscles until the sun peeks in through the tiny window across from my cell. I'm drenched in sweat, even more than before, and my muscles are aching, but it's easy to forget. And if I can't forget, then it's easy to revel and bask in the intense pain.
The correctional officers bring us to the chow hall and we all collect our disgusting food and eat as quickly as possible. We usually only have three minutes for meals. Three minutes. That's it. It was horrible at first. I had to sit at a table, alone, with my shoulders hunched, shoveling food into my mouth. If you don’t eat at chow, you don’t eat at all. I always used to go back to my cell and curl up in my bed, thinking I was going to throw up. The combination of moldy, rotten food and a three-minute time crunch to eat has horrifying results. But now, three minutes is child's play. Three minutes is eating leisurely. I could eat my entire meal in exactly two minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Three minutes, now, is generous.
After breakfast is visitation and, to no one’s surprise, my name is called. I wonder who's on Garcia's list for today. They haven't managed to stick to a set schedule yet, due to cases and traveling, so I have no way of predicting who I'll see. I’m always left to wander into the visitation room and come up with lies on the spot. 
I stick my hands out and allow Wilkins to slap cuffs on me, but I never meet his eyes. I wouldn't dare to. No amount of crunches or push-ups will ever prepare me to take him. I keep my eyes down and, shamefully, let him push me towards the visitation room.
I scan the little tables for a familiar face and smile the tiniest bit when I see Rossi sitting and waiting for me. He hasn't come to visit me yet, and out of the two people I don't want to visit me at all-- my girlfriend and my mom-- I've been waiting to see him. I resist the urge to push the person in front of me to get as much time with Rossi as possible. I wouldn’t dare risk pushing someone. I don't need a fight to send me to solitary confinement. Huh. Actually, solitary confinement doesn't seem too bad right now. I could get away from all these other inmates who want to hurt me. I could relax in solitary.
I sit down and just give Rossi an expecting look, utterly speechless. I've had so many questions to ask him. I've needed so much advice, but now I have nothing to say. My voice is stuck in my throat. His facial hair is longer. The bags under his eyes are a shade darker. Luckily, he speaks first. "You haven't slept." Okay, not what I wanted or needed him to say.
I just shrug nonchalantly. "It's been a while." What else can I say?
Rossi just nods. What else can he do? "I heard about your friend, Delgado. I'm really sorry, Spence," Again, not what I wanted or needed him to say. I don't want to hear or talk about Luis anymore. I'm tired of dwelling on that. I feel guilty enough. I don't need to see his slit throat every time I close my eyes and then open my eyes and talk about him. I don't need that. When I'm unresponsive to this, Rossi continues. "Is there anyone you can talk to?"
I roll my eyes to the back of my head. If my mother were here, she would warn me that if I do that long enough, my eyes would get stuck there. "We have group therapy once a week. The counselor wants me to keep a journal. So I am, but I don't really think it's helping."
Rossi's furrows his eyebrows. "How come?"
A scoff escapes my lips before I can stop it. "Because no one in here is honest. I mean, not a single person can admit that they're terrified," my cuffs rattle as I move my hands as if to hone in what I'm saying. "If we can't agree on that one basic truth, then it doesn't really matter."
"They could just be numb to it all." That's what Rossi offers up. It could help. It would help if I was in the free world.
"Well," my voice softens and even though I know there are gang members around me and people who want to hurt me, I let my guard down, "I'm not. There's," I drop my head the tiniest bit, "there's a helplessness in here that causes people to do things they'd never consider."
Rossi sighs, and this was what I was scared of. I open up and he has nothing to say to me. He has no world-class wisdom to offer. I'm prepared to do what I did to Garcia and practically ignore him for the rest of the visit, but when he reaches into his jacket, my intrigue beats out my disappointment.
I recognize the calligraphy on the front of the envelope as soon as I see it. It's on the front of every single one of my journals that still lay in my desk drawer. It looks as beautiful as ever in black ink, outlined and accented in a yellow pen. There's a lump in my throat that I try to swallow.
"I had to flash my badge just to get it in here so you better read it. I'm not letting you refuse to read this like you refuse to see her," Rossi moves the letter closer to me, directly in my eyesight.
I swallow the thick lump and slowly raise my cuffed hands to grab the envelope. I carefully, without ripping my cursive name, make a slice in the top with my finger and pull out pieces of paper that I recognize to be paper ripped out of Amelia's journal.
"Did you read this?" I ask Rossi as I place the envelope down.
"It was still sealed, wasn't it?"
I nod and stay silent as I drop my head again. I could cry just at the sight of Amelia's handwriting. She touched this paper. This specific piece of paper. This piece of paper was in her hands, in her apartment, and now it’s in my hands. She sat and put pen to paper and wrote this out for me to read. And with one final breath, I finally bring myself to actually start reading it.
To my love dove,
Hi!! How are you? I'm only okay, but there's something I need to tell you can it can't wait any longer.
I started watching this tv show called The Good Doctor a few weeks ago and I've finished the entire series. Honestly, Spencer, it's so amazing. I think you would love it so much.
I know you don't watch that much tv, unless I'm around, so I'll tell you what it's about. The show is about this resident surgeon named Shaun Murphy who is fighting to get a job at a hospital, but the administration of the hospital won't give him a job because he has autism. But then he saves a child's life in an airport or something (I can't remember exactly, it’s been a while) and does a procedure that is really innovative and outside the box and it floors everyone and the hospital hires him.
The show follows him navigating adult life and relationships and his job and him learning how to be less dependent on older people telling him what to do. He gets a girlfriend and loses his virginity and then starts talking about sex at work which is fucking hilarious but also stupidly inappropriate, and he has a friend who's a girl who his girlfriend has a problem with.
And then (I'm sorry, baby, but spoilers are coming!!)  they kill off one of the main characters at the end of the third season! How dumb! Melendez was one of my favorite characters and he was just about to admit to Claire that he's in love with her and then they killed him off for such a stupid reason. The season ends on a cliffhanger! You know how much I hate cliffhangers. And that plot of Claire and Melendez falling in love was teased at for so long and they gave it to us just to take it right away!!!! Cruel!! Do I have grounds to sue for emotional distress? I think there is. I should get on this.
Okay. I've calmed down now.
Fine. You caught me. I haven't. I'll never calm down from my heartbreak over Dr. Melendez. But I can move on for now.
I think you would really like this show and I'd be willing to watch it again with you. I think you'd enjoy it. They talk a lot about medical terms and medical procedures and there’s diagrams and everything. And whether they're accurate and precise or not, I'm sure you'd enjoy picking out mistakes in the procedures or telling me why the procedures are revolutionary. And no matter which option it is, I'm ready to listen and learn.
Before I watched The Good Doctor, I finished watching Lucifer, but I know that you hated that show. But he went back to Hell!!!!!!!!!!! He really did That!!!!! He left Chloe and went to Hell!!!!!! So fucking rude. I screamed out loud when he said he was leaving. Thankfully, there's going to be a season five and maybe I'll make you watch that with me so we can see what happens with Lucifer and Chloe. I debated on watching Star Trek or Doctor Who because you're always talking about how much you love those shows, but I know I won't understand it. I'll need you to explain it to me. I think I'll just wait to watch those with you. Sounds like a good date night to me.
I love you more than words can even express. I miss you more than I will ever be able to say (or in this case, write). I know you're not doing well and I know you don't want to see me but I hope that hearing from me helps you in some way. I don't know how it would but I hope it does.
I love you. I promise, I'll see you so soon.
With all the love in my tiny body,
from your pretty girl,
Amelia <3
ps. idk if you're shaving your face in there but... I'm curious to see what you look like with a mustache and beard... that's a sight I never thought you'd let me see. Hmm. I shouldn't let my mind wander. Sorry. I love you. Kisses.
I read over her letter once, twice, three times. Every time I read it, I notice something new. Every time I read the letter, I notice a teardrop beside a word, of a subtle smudge of a pen, or another hesitation in her pen stroke.
I read it again. And then I read it again. But then I read it one more time. And just when I think I've had enough, I read it another time. I’m on the tenth read before the wheels actually start turning in my head, slower than usual. This letter has distraction written all over it in Amelia’s pretty writing. I don't like medical dramas and I hated Lucifer. She knows that. She acknowledged that in her letter. But this is the kind of thing she would tell me as we're eating dinner when I get home from a case, or as we're laying in bed, or when we're showering, or when we're sitting on the balcony of one of our apartments. This serves that purpose, except this time, it's in letter form. She's distracting me. God, I would give anything to break out of here and drag her to a courthouse and marry her right now.
"Reid?"
My head snaps up when Rossi speaks, and when I force our eyes to meet, he's holding out a pen. I know for a fact that pens aren't allowed. Pens could be considered a weapon in the hands of the wrong inmate. He snuck this in, and I'm not sure how, but I don't want to know how.
I snatch the pen out of his hand and rip the sides of the envelope so there's more room to write, scribbling down my thoughts as fast as possible. I don't want to get caught. If I do, I can't imagine the trouble I'll get in, especially if Wilkins catches me. When I'm pleased with what I've written, I fold up the envelope and hand that and the pen back to Rossi. But I keep the letter, tucking it into the waistband of my pants so it's completely out of sight.
Rossi smiles, putting the envelope back in his jacket pocket and flattening the lapels. "Is there anything you want me to tell her?"
"Tell her--" I'm cut off by a sharp alarm going off, a guard screaming about a lockdown, and for all the inmates to return to their cells. I sigh, rising to my feet. "It's all there. Just give that to her."
///
AMELIA
///
"Hi, Jeannie," My voice is only a mumble as I greet the receptionist. She gives me a pitiful smile, another new tradition that has only formed in the last few weeks, handing over a visitor's pass and watching as I clip it to the pocket of my jacket.
I drag myself to the elevator and hit the up button, drag myself inside, and when it opens on the sixth floor, I drag myself to Penelope's office. My mood is lower than it has been lately. I didn’t really think it could get any lower. But here I am with a heart heart, hunched shoulders, and the inability to smile. I'm not sure why I feel like this on this specific day, as opposed to any other shitty day, but maybe it's because I know that Penelope went to visit Spencer today. All I know is that I barely wanted to drag myself off of Jenna's couch this morning and get dressed and show up here. I could barely pay attention to the new episode of The Good Doctor that Jenna coaxed me into watching with her last night. I could barely get myself to come through the front doors of the building, but I show up to the BAU every single morning like I work here.
I plug in the code to Penelope's door and push it open, and I’m welcomed to a sight that I didn't think I'd see for a while. Luke is kneeling in front of Penelope, and at first, I think that he's finally confessing his feelings for her. My first intention is to silently back away and let them have their moment. His hands are on her knees and she isn’t insulting him, so nothing about this interaction could be bad, right? But then I notice that she's crying, and my heart drops. I don’t back away. 
My hand slips off the doorknob and it slams shut, making me flinch on impact. The two stare up at me like deer caught in headlights. I see this expression way too much for my liking nowadays. And judging by the sheer fact that there are still tears dripping down Penelope's cheeks, this isn't good. Nothing is ever good anymore.
"What happened?" I don't step closer, I don't grab Penelope's hand, I don't touch Luke's shoulder. My heart is pounding against my chest and my hands are starting to shake.
Luke glances at Penelope before rising to his feet. "Garcia went to see Reid today."
"I know," I snap faster than I intended to. "What happened to him? Is he okay? What--" my voice betrays me and I can't choke out another question.
Luke sucks in a breath, keeping a stony, emotionless face. "He got beat up."
"Beat up?" I regurgitate the disgusting words that have just been spewed at me, backing myself against the wall. "He got--"
Penelope stands up and moves towards me, lacking her normal finesse. "His face had bruises and he seemed agitated but he seemed fine otherwise--"
"He's not fine if he got beat up," My anger, somehow, quickly dissipates and turns to heartache. My heart pounds against my chest at an alarming rate. My eyes flood with tears and my knees start to give out from under me, and I go sliding to the ground, curling into myself. "He's trapped inside with the people who beat him up and there's nothing he can do."
"Listen," Luke kneels in front of me and places a hand on my shoulder, but I can't bring myself to shake it off or even look up at him, "I'm gonna get an extra set of eyes on Reid. He's mentioned something about another inmate that sounds like an ex-FBI agent, and I think I know how I can get him to protect Reid. Amelia, he's gonna be okay. I'm gonna go to the prison right now and figure this all out. You call me if you need anything at all."
Luke stands again and smiles at Penelope, quickly leaving the room. And once he's gone, Penelope takes his place on the floor beside me, sitting with her legs straight out. She's silent, but I'm not sure why. Is she giving me space? Is she waiting for me to speak? Is she figuring out what to say? Is she too scared to say anything? I wouldn't blame her if she was. I'm not the person I was anymore.
I reach into my pocket and pull out Spencer's medallion, passing it between my fingers. "I'm sorry," I whisper, keeping my gaze on the metal circle. "I haven't exactly been a best friend lately, or a friend at all. I've just been a bitch."
"No, you don't need to apologize," Penelope insists, scooting closer to me. "This is a really hard time for you. It's understandable. I don't expect you to want to be listening to my guy problems or wanting to drink wine. I mean, I don't even want to be doing either of those things. It seems too...cheerful for right now."
My lips quiver and I try to hold back my tears, but no matter how hard I squeeze the medallion, my tears won’t retreat and my pain doesn’t disappear. "I just really miss him, and I'm really worried about him."
"We all are," Penelope sighs, patting my leg. "But we're working as hard as we can to get him out."
"I know you are," I flip the medallion over and stare down at the compass. "I just hope he comes home soon because I don't know how much longer I'll last without him."
///
The snapping of my pencil against paper shakes me back to reality, and my head pops up. I find that I've been jamming my pencil into my sketchbook, creating a hole in the paper that has effectively ruined my drawing and maybe even ruined my entire sketchbook.
A groan leaves my lips and I drop my sketchbook to the floor, my pencil following. I shouldn't be upset. Whatever it was I was drawing was horrible anyway. I haven't drawn anything good since Spencer got arrested. My art revolves around joy and happiness and the good things in my life and if I don't have any of that, how am I expected to make art?
"Hey," Jenna comes and sits beside me, placing a cup of tea on the coffee table. I don't touch it. She never makes it as good as Spencer. She picks up the sketchbook and lets out a sigh. "It's a shame there's a hole in it now. I liked what you were drawing."
"It was bad," I respond, letting my head fall onto her shoulder. "Nothing in there was any good."
"I disagree," Jenna drops the book and slings her arm around my shoulder, drawing me into her embrace. She’s not nearly as warm as Spencer. "Sometimes, our best work comes from dark places. You know, like comedians. A lot of comedians have depression and--"
"Jen, I appreciate it but I'm not in the mood for this," I murmur, eyelids feeling heavy. I rest my head on her lap and stare up at her, resisting the urge to purr as she starts to brush her fingers through my hair, but it's nothing like the way Spencer does it. Spencer, somehow, doesn't let his fingers get caught in my curls and he doesn't tug on knots. His hands are big and veiny and strong and not dainty and tiny like Jenna's.
"I'm sorry," Jenna apologizes with a heavy sigh.
"No, I'm sorry," I catch her hand in mine and intertwine our fingers, squeezing tightly. "I've been horrible lately. I've just-- what I'm going through with Spencer is no reason to be acting like a bad friend to you. You've been so generous and so helpful and so--"
"Hey, listen," Jenna cuts me off with her sweet smile, "when everything with Spencer is resolved and he's settled at home with his mom and with you, then you can take me out and throw me a Jenna appreciation party. But for right now, don't worry about me. Just worry about you and staying healthy and trying to stay happy, and focus your energy on your happy memories with Spencer."
"You're the best, have I ever told you that?"
"Hey!" Jenna exclaims. "Save it for the appreciation party."
I smile back up at my best friend, nodding slowly. "Okay, yeah, I can do that. Once I get my shit together, I'll throw you an amazing party."
"And I look forward to it," Jenna quips, and then looks at the time. "Okay, I've gotta get to a meeting but you're welcome to stay here if you want. My apartment is all yours."
"No, I think I'm gonna go home for a bit. Probably shower and then get to the BAU with fresh clothes. I feel all," I sit up, brushing my fingers over my cheeks and grimacing, "greasy and oily."
Jenna returns my ruined sketchbook and ushers me out the door, watching me get into my car to make sure I get there safely. I wave goodbye to her before driving off, not even bothering to turn on the radio. I never do anymore.
Trudging up to my door, I unlock it and toss my keys aside, throwing my bag down on the floor and kneeling down to take off my shoes. I pull out my hair tie and drop it to the floor, then leave a trail of clothes to the kitchen. First my denim jacket, then my socks, then my crop top. I'm left in my bra and sweatpants in the middle of the kitchen, reaching into the fridge for something to eat. It’s nearly empty. Of course it is. I haven’t had the energy to go shopping lately. 
I reach my hand out but I pause and scrunch up my nose at a strong scent. Why does it smell like bubblegum in here? Again. I don’t even like the scent or taste of bubblegum, and I obviously didn’t buy any gum recently. I roll my eyes, wandering over to the window to open it further and let out the smell. I breathe in a bit of the fresh air and sigh, stepping away and going back to my original plan of getting something to eat. Maybe the older woman next door has a bubblegum candle that she likes to light whenever I’m home. 
But the smell is persistent and it's filling my lungs and my brain and my tongue. I start to walk towards the window again but my feet don't let me. It's like there's someone telling me not to go and breath in the fresh air outside, and so, I don't. I stand in the middle of my kitchen like a floundering fish, gripping the island with white knuckles. My head feels fuzzy. My eyes feel like they should be rolling into my skull. It’s that familiar feeling of not having control over myself. That sickly familiar feeling of someone standing right behind me, whispering in my ear and telling me what to do. 
But then I feel the urge to shut the window completely, so I do. I rush over and slam it closed with so much force that I think I might break the glass. But I'm confused. I'm so confused. The bubblegum smell is nauseating so why am I closing the window? What is telling me to close the window? Who is telling me to close the window?
I feel my feet walking over to the couch and I lay down. My eyelids feel heavy and I don't stop myself when I feel an intense need to lay down and close my eyes, to rest. I curl up and drift off comfortably, into the best sleep I've gotten since I had the privilege of sleeping in a bed with Spencer.
When I finally wake again, my head is pounding. I whine out loud, curling my knees into my chest and tossing my arm over my eyes, trying to block out the lights above me. But nothing works so I roll off the couch, falling onto my knees in a pathetic heap. I lift my head, finding an empty bottle of white wine on the coffee table. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. I didn’t drink wine today. The bottle is empty but I didn’t drink. I mean, I feel hungover but I know I didn’t drink. The smell of bubblegum is gone. 
I reach around for my phone, but after groping the couch and the coffee table, I come up empty. I conclude that I've left it in my backpack which I dropped beside the door. I grind my teeth as my muscles pop when I stand and walk over to the foyer, rubbing my eyes and letting out a dramatically loud yawn. When I get to the foyer, I find that my backpack is nowhere in sight. That's odd. I could have sworn that I left it here when I got home from Jenna's apartment, but I guess in my blackout, I moved it.
I turn on my heel to head back to the kitchen, and the first thing I notice is that it's not morning anymore. It's dark out. My head whips towards the clock and I find that it's almost midnight. I must have gotten drunk. I must have finished that whole bottle myself and the alcohol made me forget. I drank the entire day away, somehow. That's not like me. That's never happened before. I drink wine all the time, I know I can hold my wine. How did one single bottle of wine do this to me?
Shaking my head at myself and pushing away my pathetic tears, I move on to my kitchen. Surely enough, the contents of my backpack are strewn across the island and my phone is right there. What I need it for? I'm not sure. But despite the fact that I've just woken up, I'm exhausted. So with my phone in my hand, half dressed, belly button ring falling out, hair tangled, head pounding, and my brain swirling, I drag myself up the stairs and collapse into bed.
The sheets smell like him. They always do. They always will. The pillow he claimed as his own will always be stained with the scent of his cologne, and no matter the amount of times I wash it, it was always smell like him. I roll over and hug his pillow to my chest, and this time, I don't stop the dam from breaking. I let the tears flow down my cheeks relentlessly and I let the sobs rack my body and I let myself succumb to the depression I've barely been fighting off.
But I don't let my mind succumb too much, not to the bad thoughts that are hounding me. I stumble off the bed and into my bedside table, pulling out my journal and holding it in my lap. My pen moves faster than my mind does and before I know it, I'm signing my name at the end. I don't even proofread it. I don't check for spelling or grammar errors or try to dry the tear stains or fix any pen smudges. I just rip out the pages, fold them up, put on some clothes, and jump in my car. 
The doors the the sixth floor open as I fiddle with my visitors pass on my hip. I see Stephen first and he smiles at me, stepping out of the way and gesturing me for me to go past. I thank him softly and go tiptoeing by, pulling open the bullpen door and stepping in. JJ and Tara are talking with Anderson and Kevin by the coffee machine and I send them a wave, but I don't go over to talk. I haven't been in the mood for small talk lately. And besides, it’s midnight. Everyone is here incredibly late to work and small talk would distract them from their obvious mountain of work. They don’t need the extra worry of me showing up hungover and confused. I keep my head down to avoid everyone. 
I pass Emily and get to Dave's door, knocking much softer than I have in the past. He calls for me to enter, and when I do, I give him one of the fake smiles I've become so accustomed to lately. "Hi," I state gently.
"Hi," he gestures for me to sit, and when I do, he closes to door. "Are you okay?"
"I am," I nod quickly, probably way too quickly, and bring my backpack into my lap, digging through the contents. "I saw that--"
"Are you drunk?" He interrupts me, narrowing his eyes at me as he takes a seat again.
I fiend surprise, shaking my head. "No! Of course not! Why would you--"
"Your eyes are bloodshot and you're not speaking properly, you're slurring your words," Dave points out bluntly.
I don't move my gaze from his as my hands finally land on what I was searching for, and I pull it out, holding it to him. "I saw on Garcia's board that you're the next to visit Spencer. Could you bring that to him? It's just a letter."
Dave takes the envelope from my hand and admires the calligraphy on the front, the same I always use to label Spencer's sketchbooks. He nods and tucks it into his jacket pocket. "I'll bring it. The prison checks everything and--"
"If they confiscate it, I don't wanna know," I tell him, standing and putting my backpack on again, heading towards his office door. "Just-- everything I have to say is in that letter. I've gotten it out and even if he doesn't get to read it," I shrug my shoulders up to my ears and laugh pitifully, "whatever. I just hope he's safe now."
I go home. I leave with my head down and tears in my eyes. Dave is going to think I’m a crazy drunk who can’t control herself. The reality is, I don’t even know what happened today. I’m just confused and sad. I’m missing Spencer, I hate the smell of bubblegum, and I can’t do my job anymore. Everything is fucking horrible. Everything has gone to shit.
Like clockwork, I bring myself to the BAU the next morning. Freshly showered and in presentable clothes, looking better than I have in months. An obvious overcompensation for what Dave said to me yesterday. I need to show him somehow that I’m okay. Well, I’m not okay but I don’t need anyone worrying about me. I should have practiced my fake smile in the elevator.
"Hey, you," Penelope smiles softly as I walk into her lair, dropping my backpack on the empty desk. "Feeling okay?"
"Meh," I shrug, sitting down in a free chair and drawing my knees to my chest. "I'm trying to keep my spirits up. It's hard, you know? It keeps getting longer and longer since I've seen him and the longer it gets, the harder it gets. I’m trying to keep it together. It’s hard, P."
"I think I may be able to help with that," Dave's voice at the door makes the both of us jump. Neither of us had even realized he had come in right behind me. But I jump to my feet and smooth down my skirt, adjusting my nose ring so it’s perfect and brushing my straightened hair behind my ears.
"Help with that?" Penelope repeats, glancing between us. "Help with that how?"
Dave reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the envelope for the letter I'd written for Spencer, and my heart drops to my feet. Why was I thinking? What made me think he would be able to bring my letter in? He's in a maximum-security prison. Spencer can barely take a shower without prison guard eyes on him. He's not going to be able to get a letter from a visitor without it being checked and rejected first.
"I told you I didn't wanna know if he could see it," I whisper, looking down at my lap and hating the way my eyes instantly burn with tears. I’ve cried too much lately. "You should've just thrown it out. I don't want it back, just--"
He drops the envelope onto my lap to shut me up, but now, it's unfolded and there's writing on the inside. My body jerks ungracefully when I recognize Spencer's handwriting and I snatch it up to read what he's written for me.
To my pretty girl,
The Good Doctor sounds like a great show, and even though you've basically spoiled the whole show for me, I'd love to rewatch it with you. Medical dramas tend to be incorrect with their facts so I'd like to see how much of the show is accurate. And no, I will not watch Lucifer with you. But I will absolutely watch Star Trek and Doctor Who with you. It would be my pleasure to explain them to you.
I think of you every single day. You are the reason I'm pushing through and you are the reason I'm still alive. You are the reason I get out of bed and you are the reason I'm sane at all. You're still my north. Don't forget that. I’m going to come home to you.
Like you said, words cannot describe how intensely and how badly I miss you. Things are hard right now but I promise that I'll see you soon and I promise that everything will be okay.
Listen to some Brahms or Mozart for me. I love you so much.
With all the love I have left to give,
Your Dove
ps. There are no razors here and I haven't shaved in months. Enjoy.
pps. Thank you for distracting me. It worked wonders. You're truly amazing.
I read his letter over and over and over. I examine every single word on the page and I barely even notice when my tears start to fall on the paper. His writing is messy, it always has been, but it's so beautiful. Maybe I think it's so extraordinarily beautiful because I know he touched this piece of paper and now I'm touching it. It's from his heart. It's from him. It's from my Spencer.
"Penny," I whimper out, and she is at my side in a second, placing her hand on my shoulder. "He—” I sniffle and hiccup, “he promised."
"He promised?" She echoes, her voice sounding hopeful but like she's talking to a child. "What did he promise?"
"He promised that everything is gonna be okay," I clutch the paper in my hand, admiring its beauty and counting the strokes that Spencer made with the pen. "And he told me again that I'm his north and-- that's good, right? He's still there, you know, mentally."
Penelope nods at me, reaching down to wipe my tears. "Yeah, Amelia, that's really good that he said those things."
I drop the letter to the floor and throw my arms around Dave, crying into his shoulder. "Thank you so much. Thank you for doing this for me."
He hugs me back tightly. "Anything to see you and the kid happy. Anything for you two."
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jonjordanforrealz · 2 years
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12 Years Is a Long Time
September 29th is my son Arron’s 11th birthday – a cause for celebrating for sure, and a time for this parent, as most parents do, to ponder aloud, “How in the hell did that go so fast?” For me, sentimental sap that I am, birthdays are always a time for reflection too.
In doing so this morning, I was, of course, reminded that September 29th is also the anniversary of my brother Michael’s passing. A year to the day before Arron came into this world, Mikey left it. 12 years ago today. That’s gone a different kind of so fast itself.
I’ve talked about my brother’s death many times over the years and it never bothers me to do so. Most of the time, it makes me happy just to talk about him at all. To be remembered is to be loved and he certainly is in both instances. But I don’t think I’ve ever really shared much publicly about his last day.
And I need to let it go.
Who knows? Maybe something like this can help somebody.
For 12 years, I’ve carried the weight of that day and never really faced it or dealt with it. And I’m tired. It’s heavy and I’m tired. And to fulfill my final promise to Mikey, actually, I need to get rid of it, once and for all.
Following a lifetime of major medical issues and severe mental and physical handicaps, and doing all he could over the course of his 25 years to beat the odds and somehow conquer and survive one and all, Michael would meet his match in the form of an internal bleeding issue that just couldn’t be solved.
A kid like Mikey, who couldn’t really communicate outside of very basic emotions, had no way of conveying to doctors what anything felt like, where it hurt, how long something had been bothering him, and so on and so forth. So oftentimes, things got worse, sometimes as bad as they possibly could get, before anyone could even get anywhere close to figuring out what the hell was going on. And in his final chapter, this reality first led to him being transported to be treated by specialists in Tampa, and then ultimately, to our family’s greatest test. That we were so conveniently able to face that final decision together thanks to his relocation to my neck of the woods was a stroke of luck that I don’t think anyone appreciated until years later.
Michael’s bleeding issue just wasn’t going away no matter what the doctors tried. Not to cheapen the matter, but I think someone likened it to plugging a hole in a hose with your finger, only to have another open shortly thereafter. At some point, you run out of fingers. And so, we were faced with two choices: An exploratory and very invasive surgery that guaranteed nothing or a nonsurgical Hail Mary that was every bit the final hope. My parents encouraged me to speak freely and honestly in that days-long conversation and as I recall, my opinion never wavered, though of course, I respected and understood their agonizing back-and-forth.
To me, this kid had already been through so much, literally since Day 1. Countless major surgeries and painful procedures that would absolutely hammer (and maybe finish) most “regular” people were the worst of the lot. Other concessions over time – simple things like eating and drinking normally – also took a toll, I’m sure, as every human needs simple joys.
Throughout his last ordeal, there had already been several procedures, and in my eyes, he didn’t need more of that. With the proposed surgery highly likely to kill him anyway, I didn’t see the justification to put him through that sort of torture again. I didn’t want that to be his way to go out. As his closest advocate, because “brothers” means something more that those who don’t have can know, I knew he didn’t want that to be his way to go out either.
Instead, I argued, that through the non-invasive course of treatment, while the odds of that working were stacked heavily against him, this put the ball in his court. This made it so that he could fight, if he wanted to. For a kid who rarely had the chance to call his shot at any time in his life, this was that. “Scrap if you want to, kid,” I thought. “If anyone can beat the odds one more time, it’s you.” And if not, I thought he had that right too. And I wanted to fight for that. This time, I wanted to fight for his right to fight. Or not.
And so, with my parents on board, we gave him his shot, and at first, true to form, the kid was responding positively. Amazed yet unsurprised, we carried on with some hope for the first time in seemingly forever … and then everything just tanked. Quickly.
I’d prepared for this my whole life. And I had thought I had been stepping into this moment already time and time before. But I wasn’t nervous. I felt a sense of urgency, after getting the call, because I wanted to be with him but I wasn’t nervous or scared. Something that always comforted me was a belief that if anyone ever deserved a peaceful end, it would be Mikey. Once we were faced with the grave news, the doctor assured that as they stopped doing whatever they had been doing to treat him, and focused on making him comfortable, that he would indeed get that peaceful transition. And I know in the medical world that nothing is ever guaranteed but I really believed it. I believed in that. It’s all I wanted, then, knowing that there was no winning this last fight.
But it didn’t go down like that. His last day wasn’t, at first, peaceful at all. It was prolonged. And there were gasps and groans. At one point, a seizure. And I was mad. I was so mad.
At the same time, I knew what it was, really. This kid’s will to fight just doesn’t go away. It’s funny because from the very beginning, one of the things he was diagnosed with was some syndrome called Failure to Thrive. Fuck that.
When the worst moments hit, and I watched my brother and my family suffering, I didn’t feel mad anymore. I just felt like I had to do something.
There’s a picture that I have of my brother and I in bed. I was maybe 10 and he, six. We shared a room at that time and when my mom or dad would come in to get us up, if I was being a bum and still laying there and we had somewhere to be, they’d plop Mikey right in my bed next to me. That always got me up. Nothing like an eye poke or swift kick from the kid who “couldn’t control his movements” to start your day – accompanied, of course, by his trademark giggle.
That little shit … It’s still my favorite picture in the world.
In those final moments, I just crawled as far into his hospital bed as I could to lay next to him, just like we did on those mornings as kids, and I whispered to him, “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’re going to be okay.”
You see, I’d often wondered, when I was very young, why he pulled through so many things that most people wouldn’t. After all, I’d always noticed people bitching and moaning about the stupidest things (oh, contemporary America!), wandering around aimlessly in perpetual woe-is-me mode. If anyone should have ever just said, “Screw this!” and checked out, Michael should have. But he had us. And we, him. He pretty much defined us, really, for better or worse. I felt like there was at least a little something in him that told him he needed to stick around for us. And I just wanted him to know that we would be okay if he couldn’t anymore.
Within minutes, things calmed down. His breathing slowed. The stupid machines making noise start doing so more sporadically. And then, before we knew it, it was over. That was it. The end.
I remember lots of hugs and tears and one of many goodbyes to come. And then we said thank you to some staff members – really a symbolic thank you, from me at least, to so many over the years. To people in the medical field, I look at you as I do teachers, and that is in the highest regard, having intimately known both worlds, whether I wanted to or not.
I remember going outside and nobody saying very much.
I remember sitting down at a table.
And then I remember saying, “Well, what do we do now?” I don’t think I ever quite figured out what to do. A purpose I’d always had was now gone.
Of course, in the coming days and weeks, we had plenty to do – plenty of the mind-numbing, gut-wrenching things you have to do to prepare for a loved one’s final arrangements and all that. I took on a lot more of the sort than I ever had at that time because I felt like my parents shouldn’t have to, so I was distracted by productivity. But soon after that, I don’t remember anything. Don’t remember his funeral. Don’t remember leaving my parents and coming back home. Don’t remember going back to work. Sports, friends, events … nothing.
Truly, I think I completely lost a year. I don’t remember a lot at all about the time in between Mikey’s death and Arron’s birth. And then the latter happened and it was like the pause button I’d pushed on life had been pushed again, whether I was ready or not.
And while I was obviously happy to be a dad for the second time, I was also still hurting, which I must have forgotten about too in that year prior. And again, I was mad. I was so mad.
In the years since, that anger lingered, because if you don’t hit something head-on, it doesn’t just go away. Anger leads to hurt, fear, panic, anxiety, a defensive existence, and isolation. I’ve experienced it all and I wouldn’t wish any of it on my worst enemy. I’ve distanced myself, I’ve been checked out and I’ve lashed out, retreated within and pushed people away. It has caused me problems in every element of my life at one time (or more) or another.
None of it is any excuse and it’s a lot for which to apologize over a long period of time but if my suffering has ever caused any sort of suffering for anyone reading this, I am sorry.
(Note: I’m still going to enjoy my space and my distance more than most people but, overall, I can be better!)
I feel like some of this might be a surprise to people because I don’t show it, hardly ever. I’ve gotten good at projecting this version of myself at any time, regardless of what’s really going on. I even manage to have and to be a good time, probably a bit too often influenced by some additives I’ve grown fond of over the years. But there are times when all of that is just masking a wreck. And it has to stop.
I don’t know why I’m shedding this now other than that I need to – because it can’t go on forever. I haven’t come close to being the best version of myself and I have people around me who deserve nothing less than that. What better time than now if I’m finally recognizing that, at times, I haven’t been good? And at my worst, I haven’t even been okay.
And the bottom line is that I promised my little brother, as he left us 12 years ago, that I would be.
I’ll never let go of him. He’s on my arm and in my heart and I hear his voice – especially that laugh! – every single day.
But I’m letting go of that day.
12 years is a long time.
It’s been heavy.
And I’m tired.
And I have to be okay.
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96harmony96 · 3 years
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Chapter 8 part 1
“Camila.”
I jumped and spun around in my chair, startled to find Lauren standing beside my cubicle. The sight of her blew me away, as usual, and my heart stuttered in my chest. A quick glance at the clock proved that a quarter hour had passed in no time at all.
“Lau—Miss. Jauregui. You didn’t have to come down here.”
Her face was calm and impassive, but her eyes were stormy and hot. “Ready?”
I opened my drawer and pulled out my purse, taking the opportunity to suck in a deep, shaky breath. she smelled phenomenal and looked even better.
“Miss Jauregui.” Mark’s voice. “It’s great to see you. Is there something—?”
“I’m here for Camila. We have a lunch date.”
I straightened in time to see Mark’s brows shoot up. He recovered quickly, his face smoothing into its usual good-natured handsomeness.
“I’ll be back at one,” I assured her.
“See you then. Enjoy your lunch.”
Lauren put her hand at the small of my back and steered me out to the elevators, garnering raised brows from Megumi when we passed reception. I shifted restlessly as she hit the call button for the elevator, wishing I could’ve made it through the day without seeing the woman whose touch I craved like a drug.
she faced me as we waited for the car, running her fingertips down the sleeve of my satin blouse. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you in that red dress. I hear the sounds you make when you’re turned on. I feel you sliding over my cock, squeezing me like a fist, making me come so hard it hurts.”
“Don’t.” I looked away, unable to bear the intimate way she was looking at me.
“I can’t help it.”
The arrival of the elevator was a relief. she caught my hand and pulled me inside. After she put her key in the panel, she tugged me closer. “I’m going to kiss you, Camila.”
“I don’t—”
she pulled me into her and sealed her mouth over mine. I resisted as long as I could; then I melted at the feel of her tongue stroking slow and sweet over mine. I’d wanted her kiss since we’d had sex. I wanted the reassurance that she valued what we’d shared, that it meant something to her as it had to me.
I was left bereft once again when she pulled away.
“Come on.” she pulled the key out as the door opened.
Lauren’s redheaded receptionist said nothing this time, although she eyed me strangely. In contrast, Lauren’s secretary, Scott, stood when we approached and greeted me pleasantly by name.
“Good afternoon, Miss Cabello.”
“Hi, Scott.”
Lauren gave him a curt nod. “Hold my calls.”
“Yes, of course.”
I entered Lauren’s expansive office, my gaze drifting to the sofa where she’d first touched me intimately.
Lunch was arranged on the bar—two plates covered in metal salvers.
“Can I take your purse?” She asked.
I looked at her, saw she’d taken off her jacket and slung it over her arm. she stood there in her tailored slacks and vest, her shirt and tie both a pristine white, her hair dark and thick around her breathtaking face, her eyes a wild and dazzling blue. In a word, she amazed me. I couldn’t believe I’d made love to such a gorgeous woman.
But then, it hadn’t meant the same thing to her.
“Camila ?”
“You’re beautiful, Lauren.” The words fell out of my mouth without conscious thought.
Her brows lifted; then a softness came into her eyes. “I’m glad you like what you see.”
I handed her my purse and moved away, needing the space. she hung her coat and my purse on the coatrack, then moved to the bar.
I crossed my arms. “Let’s just get this over with. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
Lauren shoved a hand through her hair and exhaled harshly. “You don’t mean that.”
I was suddenly very tired, exhausted from fighting with myself over her. “I really do. You and me…it was a mistake.”
Her jaw tightened. “It wasn’t. The way I handled it afterward was the mistake.”
I stared at her, startled by the fierceness of her denial. “I wasn’t talking about the sex, Lauren. I’m talking about my agreeing to this crazy strangers-with-benefits deal between us. I knew it was all wrong from the beginning. I should’ve listened to my instincts.”
“Do you want to be with me, Camila?”
“No. That’s what—”
“Not like we discussed at the bar. More than that.”
My heart started to pound. “What are you talking about?”
“Everything.” she left the bar and came closer. “I want to be with you.”
“You didn’t seem like you did Saturday.” My arms tightened around my middle.
“I was…reeling.”
“So? I was, too.”
Her hands went to her hips. Then her arms crossed like mine. “Christ, Camila.”
I watched her squirm and felt a flare of hope. “If that’s all you’ve got, we’re done.”
“The hell we are.”
“We’ve already hit a dead end if you’re going to take a head trip every time we have sex.”
she visibly struggled with what to say. “I’m used to having control. I need it. And you blew it all to hell in the limousine. I didn’t handle that well.”
“Ya think?”
“Camila.” she approached. “I’ve never experienced anything like that. I didn’t think it was possible for me to. Now that I have…I’ve got to have it. I’ve got to have you.”
“It’s just sex, Lauren. Super awesome sex, but that can seriously screw with your head when the two people doing it aren’t good for each other.”
“Bullshit. I’ve admitted I fucked up. I can’t change what happened, but I can sure as shit get pissed that you want to cut me off because of it. You laid out your rules and I adjusted to accommodate them, but you won’t make even a tiny adjustment for me. You have to meet me halfway.” Her face was hard with frustration. “At least give me a damn inch.”
I stared at her, trying to figure out what she was doing and where this was going. “What do you want, Lauren?” I asked softly.
she caught me to her and cupped my cheek in one hand. “I want to keep feeling the way I feel when I’m with you. Just tell me what I have to do. And give me some room to screw up. I’ve never done this before. There’s a learning curve.”
I placed my palm over her heart and felt its pounding rhythm. she was anxious and passionate, and that had me on edge. How was I supposed to respond? Did I go with my gut or my common sense? “Done what before?”
“Whatever it takes to spend as much time with you as possible. In and out of bed.”
The rush of delight that swept through me was ridiculously powerful. “Do you understand how much work and time a relationship between us is going to take, Lauren? I’m wiped out already. Plus I’m still working on some personal stuff, and I have my new job…my crazy mother…”
My fingers covered her mouth before she could open it. “But you’re worth it, and I want you bad enough. So I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Camila. Damn you.” Lauren lifted me, hitching one arm beneath my rear to urge me to wrap my legs around her waist. she kissed me hard on the mouth and nuzzled her nose against mine. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You say that as if it’ll be easy.” I knew I was high-maintenance and she was obviously going to be the same.
“Easy’s boring.” she carried me over to the bar and set me down on a barstool. she pulled the dome off my place setting and revealed a massive cheeseburger and fries. The meal was still warm, thanks to a heated granite slab beneath the plate.
“Yum,” I murmured, becoming aware of how hungry I was. Now that we’d talked, my appetite had returned full force.
she snapped open my napkin and laid it over my lap with a squeeze to my knee; then she took the seat beside me. “So, how do we do this?”
“Well, you pick it up with your hands and put it in your mouth.”
she shot me a wry look that made me smile. It felt good to smile. It felt good to be with her. It usually did…for a little while. I took a bite of my burger, moaning when I got a full hit of its flavor. It was a traditional cheeseburger, but the taste was divine.
“Good, right?” She asked.
“Very good. In fact, a guy who knows about burgers this good might be worth keeping to myself.” I wiped my mouth and hands. “How resistant are you to exclusivity?”
As she set her burger down, there was an eerie stillness to her. I couldn’t begin to guess what she was thinking. “I assumed that was implied in our arrangement. But to avoid any doubts, I’ll be clear and say there won’t be any other men for you, Camila.”
A shiver moved through me at the blunt finality in her tone and the iciness of her gaze. I knew she had a dark side; I’d learned long ago how to spot and avoid men who had dangerous shadows in their eyes. But the familiar alarm bells didn’t ring around Lauren as they maybe should have. “But women are okay?” I asked to lighten the mood.
Her brows rose. “I know your roommate is bisexual. Are you?”
“Would that bother you?”
“Sharing you would bother me. It’s not an option. Your body belongs to me, Camila.”
“And yours belongs to me? Exclusively?”
Her gaze turned hot. “Yes, and I expect you to take frequent and excessive advantage of it.
Well, then…“But you’ve seen me naked,” I teased, my voice husky. “You know what you’re getting. I don’t. I love what I’ve seen of your body so far, but that hasn’t been a whole lot.”
“We can rectify that now.”
The thought of her stripping for me made me squirm in my seat. she noticed and her mouth curved wickedly.
“You’d better not,” I said regretfully. “I was late getting back on Friday.”
“Tonight, then.”
I swallowed hard. “Absolutely.”
“I’ll be sure to clear my schedule by five.” she resumed eating, completely at ease with the fact that we’d both just penciled “mind-blowing sex” into our mental day calendars.
“You don’t have to.” I opened the mini ketchup bottle by my plate. “I need to hit the gym after work.”
“We’ll go together.”
“Really?” I turned the bottle upside down and thumped the bottom with my palm.
she took it from me and used her knife to coax the ketchup onto my plate. “It’s probably best for me to work off some energy before I get you naked. I’m sure you’d like to be able to walk tomorrow.”
I stared at her, astonished by the casualness with which she’d made the statement and the rueful amusement on her face that told me she wasn’t entirely kidding. My sex clenched in delicious anticipation. I could easily picture becoming seriously addicted to Lauren Jauregui.
I ate some fries, thinking of someone else who was addicted to Lauren. “Magdalene could be a problem for me.”
she swallowed a bite of her burger and washed it down with a swig from her bottled water. “She told me she’d talked to you, and that it didn’t go well.”
I gave props to Magdalene’s scheming and the clever attempt to cut me off at the pass. I’d have to be very careful with her, and Lauren was going to have to do something about her—like cut her off, period.
“No, it didn’t go well,” I agreed. “But then I don’t appreciate being told that you don’t respect the women you fuck and that the moment you shoved your dick into me you were done with me.”
Lauren stilled. “She said that?”
“Word for word. She also said you’re keeping on her ice until you’re ready to settle down.”
“Did she now?” Her low voice had a chilling bite to it.
My stomach knotted, knowing things could either go really right or really wrong, depending on what Lauren said next. “Don’t you believe me?”
“Of course I believe you.”
“She could be a problem for me,” I repeated, not letting it go.
“She won’t be a problem. I’ll talk to her.”
I hated the thought of her talking to her, because it made me sick with jealousy. I figured that was an issue I should disclose up front. “Lauren…”
“Yes?” she’d finished her burger and was working on the fries.
“I’m a very jealous person. I can be irrational with it.” I poked at my burger with a fry. “You might want to think about that, and whether or not you want to deal with someone who has self-esteem issues like I do. It was one of my sticking points when you first propositioned me, knowing it was going to drive me nuts having women salivating all over you and not having the right to say anything about it.”
“You have the right now.”
“You’re not taking me seriously.” I shook my head and took another bite of my cheeseburger.
“I’ve never been as serious about anything in my life.” Reaching over, Lauren ran a fingertip over the corner of my mouth, and then licked off the dab of sauce she’d collected. “You’re not the only one who can get possessive. I’m very proprietary about what’s mine.”
I didn’t doubt that for a minute.
I took another bite and thought of the night ahead. I was eager. Ridiculously so. I was dying to see Lauren naked. Dying to run my hands and lips all over her. Dying to have another go at driving her crazy. And I was damn near desperate to be under her, to feel her straining over me, pounding into me, coming hard and deep inside me…
“Keep thinking those thoughts,” she said roughly, “and you’ll be late again.”
I looked at her with raised brows “How did you know what I’m thinking?”
“You get this look on your face when you’re turned on. I intend to put that look on your face as often as possible.” Lauren covered her plate again and stood, withdrawing a business card from her pocket and setting it down beside me. I could see that she’d written her home and cell phone numbers on the back. “I feel stupid asking this question considering our present conversation, but I need your cell phone number.”
“Oh.” I forcibly dragged my thoughts out of the bedroom. “I have to get one first. It’s on my to-do list.”
“What happened to the phone you were texting with last week?”
My nose wrinkled. “My mother was using it to track my movements around the city. She’s a tad…overprotective.”
“I see.” she brushed the backs of her fingers down my cheek. “That’s what you were talking about when you said your mom is stalking you.”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Okay, then. We’ll take care of the phone after work before we head to the gym. It’s safer for you to have one. And I want to be able to call you whenever I feel like it.”
I set down the quarter of my burger that I couldn’t eat, and wiped my hands and mouth. “That was delicious. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.” she leaned over me and pressed her lips briefly to mine. “Do you need to use the washroom?”
“Yes. I need my toothbrush from my purse, too.”
A few minutes later, I found myself standing in a washroom hidden behind a door that blended seamlessly with the mahogany paneling behind the flat screens. We brushed our teeth side by side at the double sink vanity, our gazes meeting in our mirrored reflections. It was such a domestic, normal thing to do and yet we both seemed to delight in it.
“I’ll take you back down,” she said, crossing her office to the coatrack.
I followed her, but veered off when we reached her desk. I went to it and put my hand on the clear space in front of her chair. “Is this where you are most of the day?”
“Yes.” she shrugged into her jacket and I wanted to bite her, she looked so delectable.
Instead, I hopped up to sit directly in front of her chair. According to my watch I had five minutes. Barely enough time to get back to work, but still. I couldn’t resist exercising my new rights. I pointed at her chair. “Sit.”
Her brows rose, but she came over without argument and settled gracefully into the seat.
I spread my legs and crooked my finger. “Closer.”
she rolled forward, filling the space between my thighs. she wrapped her arms around my hips and looked up at me. “One day soon, Camila, I’m going to fuck you right here.”
“Just a kiss for now,” I murmured, bending forward to take her mouth. With my hands on her shoulders for balance, I licked across her parted lips; then slipped inside and teased her with gentleness.
Groaning, she deepened the kiss, eating at my mouth in a way that made me achy and wet.
“One day soon,” I repeated against her lips, “I’m going to kneel beneath this desk and suck you off. Maybe while you’re on the phone playing with your millions like Monopoly. You, Miss Jauregui, will pass Go and collect your two hundred dollars.”
Her mouth curved against mine. “I can see how this is going to go. You’re going to make me lose my mind coming everywhere I can in your tight, sexy body.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Angel, I’m salivating.”
I was bemused by the endearment, although I liked its sweetness. “Angel?”
she hummed a soft assent and kissed me.
I couldn’t believe what a difference an hour made. I left Lauren’s office in a completely different frame of mind than when I’d entered it. The feel of her hand at the small of my back made my body hum with anticipation rather than the misery I’d felt on the way in.
I waved bye to Scott and smiled brightly at the unsmiling receptionist.
“I don’t think she likes me,” I told Lauren, as we waited for the elevator.
“Who?”
“Your receptionist.”
she glanced over that way and the redhead beamed at her.
“Well,” I murmured. “She likes you.”
“I guarantee her paychecks.”
My mouth curved. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what it is. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with you being the sexiest woman alive.”
“Am I now?” she caged me to the wall and burned me with a searing gaze.
I set my hands against her abdomen, licking my lower lip when I felt the hard ridges of muscle tighten under my touch. “Just an observation.”
“I like you.” With her palms pressed flat to the wall on either side of my head, she lowered her mouth to mine and kissed me softly.
“I like you back. You do realize you’re at work, don’t you?”
“What good is being the boss if you can’t do what you want?”
“Hmm.”
When a car arrived, I ducked under Lauren’s arm and slid into it. she prowled in after me; then circled me like a predator, sliding up behind me to pull me back against her. Her hands pushed into my front pockets and splayed against my hipbones, keeping me tucked close. The warmth of her touch so close to where I ached for her was a special brand of torture. In retaliation, I wriggled my butt against her and smiled when she hissed out a breath and hardened.
“Behave,” she admonished gruffly. “I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”
“Will you think of me while you’re sitting at your desk?”
“Undoubtedly. You’ll definitely think about me while you’re sitting at yours. That’s an order, Miss Cabello.”
My head fell back against her chest, loving the bite of command in her voice. “I don’t see how I couldn’t, Miss Jauregui, considering how I think of you everywhere else I go.”
she stepped out with me when we reached the twentieth floor. “Thank you for lunch.”
“I think that’s my line.” I backed away. “See you later, Dark and Dangerous.”
Her brows rose at my nickname for her. “Five o’clock. Don’t make me wait.”
One of the cars in the left bank of elevators arrived. Megumi stepped out and Lauren stepped in, her gaze locked with mine until the doors closed.
“Whew,” she said. “You scored. I’m pea green with envy.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say to that. It was all still too new and I was afraid to jinx it. In the back of my mind, I knew these feelings of happiness couldn’t last. Everything was going too well.
I rushed to my desk and got to work.
“Camila.” I looked up to see Mark standing in the threshold of his office. “Could I talk to you a minute?”
“Of course.” I grabbed my tablet, even though his grim face and tone warned me they might not be needed. When Mark shut the door behind me, my apprehension increased. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” He waited until I was seated; then took the chair beside me rather than the one behind his desk. “I don’t know how to say this…”
“Just say it. I’ll figure it out.”
He looked at me with compassionate eyes and a cringe of embarrassment. “It’s not my place to interfere. I’m just your boss and there’s a line that comes with that, but I’m going to cross it because I like you, Camila, and I want you to work here for a long time.”
My stomach tightened. “That’s great. I really love my job.”
“Good. Good, I’m glad.” He shot me a quick smile. “Just…be careful with Jauregui, okay?”
I blinked, startled by the direction of the conversation. “Okay.”
“she’s brilliant, rich, and sexy, so I understand the appeal. As much as I love Steven, I get a little flustered around Jauregui myself. she’s just got that kind of pull.” Mark talked fast and shifted with obvious embarrassment. “And I can totally see why she’s interested in you. You’re beautiful, smart, honest, considerate…I could go on, because you’re great.”
“Thanks,” I said quietly, hoping I didn’t look as ill as I felt. This sort of warning from a friend, and knowing that others would think of me as just another babe-of-the-week, was exactly the sort of thing that preyed on my insecurities.
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he muttered, looking as miserable as I felt. “Part of that’s selfish, I’ll admit. I don’t want to lose a great assistant because she doesn’t want to work in a building owned by an ex.”
“Mark, it means a lot to me that you care and that I’m valuable to you around here. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big girl. Besides, nothing is going to get me to quit this job.”
He blew out his breath, clearly relieved. “All right. Let’s put it away and get to work.”
So we did, but I set myself up for future torture by subscribing to a daily Google alert for Lauren’s name. And when five o’clock rolled around, my awareness of my many inadequacies was still spreading through my happiness like a stain.
Lauren was as prompt as she’d threatened to be and she didn’t seem to notice my introspective mood as we rode down in a crowded elevator. More than one woman in the car cast furtive glances in her direction, but that sort of thing I didn’t mind. she was hot. I would’ve been surprised if they hadn’t looked.
she caught my hand when we cleared the turnstiles, linking her fingers with mine. The simple, intimate gesture meant so much to me in that moment that my grip tightened on hers. And I’d really have to watch out for that. The moment I became grateful she was spending time with me would be the beginning of the end. Neither of us would respect me if that happened.
The Bentley SUV sat at the curb and Lauren’s driver stood at the ready by the rear door. Lauren looked at me. “I had some workout clothes packed and brought over, in case you were set on visiting your gym. Equinox, right? Or we can go to mine.”
“Where’s yours?”
“I prefer to go to the CrossTrainer on Thirty-fifth.”
My curiosity over how she knew which gym I frequented vanished when I heard the “Cross” in the name of her gym. “You wouldn’t happen to own the gym, would you?”
Her grin flashed. “The chain. Usually, I practice mixed martial arts with a personal trainer, but I use the gym occasionally.”
“The chain,” I repeated. “Of course.”
“Your choice,” she said considerately. “I’ll go wherever you want.”
“By all means, let’s go to your gym.”
she opened the back door, and I slid in and over. I set my purse and my gym bag on my lap, and looked out the window as the car pulled away from the curb. The sedan driving next to us was so close I wouldn’t have to lean far to touch it. Rush hour in Manhattan was something I was still getting used to. SoCal had bumper-to-bumper traffic, too, but it moved at a snail’s pace. Here in New York, speed mixed with the crush in a way that often made me close my eyes and pray to survive the trip.
It was a whole new world. A new city, new apartment, new job, and new partner. It was a lot to take on at once. I supposed it was understandable that I felt off-balance.
I glanced at Lauren and found her staring at me with an unreadable expression. Everything inside me twisted into a mess of wild lust and vibrating anxiety. I had no idea what I was doing with her, only that I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
We hit the cellular store first. The associate who helped us seemed highly susceptible to Lauren’s magnetic pull. She practically fell all over herself the minute she showed the slightest interest in anything, quickly launching into detailed explanations and leaning into her personal space to demonstrate.
I tried separating from them and finding someone who’d actually help me, but Lauren’s grip on my hand wouldn’t let me move more than touching distance away. Then we argued over who was going to pay, which she seemed to think should be her even though the phone and account were mine.
“You got your way with picking the service provider,” I pointed out, pushing her credit card aside and shoving mine at the girl.
“Because it’s practical. We’ll be on the same network, so calls to me are free.” she swapped the cards deftly.
“I won’t be calling you at all, if you don’t put your damn credit card away!”
That did the trick, although I could tell she was unhappy about it. she’d just have to get over it.
Once we got back in the Bentley, her mood seemed restored.
“You can head to the gym now, Angus,” she told her driver, settling back in the seat. Then she pulled her smartphone out of her pocket. she saved my new number into her contact list; then she took my new phone out of my hand and programmed my list with her home, office, and cell numbers.
she’d barely finished when we arrived at CrossTrainer. Not surprisingly, the three-story fitness center was a health enthusiast’s dream. I was impressed with every sleek, modern, top-of-the-line inch of it. Even the women’s locker room was like something out of a science fiction movie.
But my awe was totally eclipsed by Lauren herself when I finished changing into my workout clothes and found her waiting for me out in the hallway. she’d changed into long shorts and a tank, which gave me my first look at her bare arms and legs.
I came to an abrupt halt and someone coming out behind me bumped into me. I could barely manage an apology; I was too busy visually devouring Lauren’s smokin’ hot body. Her legs were toned and powerful, flawlessly proportional to her trim hips and waist. Her arms made my mouth water. Her biceps were precisely cut and her forearms were coursing with thick veins that were both brutal looking and sexy as hell. she’d tied her hair back, which showed off the definition of her neck and traps, and the sculpted angles of her face.
Christ. I knew this woman intimately. My brain couldn’t wrap itself around that fact, not while faced with the irrefutable evidence of how uniquely beautiful she was.
And she was scowling at me.
Straightening away from the wall where she’d been leaning, she came toward me, and then circled me. Her fingertips ran along my bare midriff and back as she made the revolution, sending goose bumps racing over my skin. When she stopped in front of me, I threw my arms around her neck and pulled her mouth down for a quick, playfully smacking kiss.
“What the hell are you wearing?” She asked, looking marginally appeased by my enthusiastic greeting.
“Clothes.”
“You look naked in that top.”
“I thought you liked me naked.” I was secretly pleased with my choice, which I’d made that morning before I’d known she’d be with me. The top was a triangle with long straps at the shoulders and ribs that secured with Velcro and could be worn in a variety of ways to allow the wearer to determine where her breasts needed the most support. It was specially designed for curvy women and was the first top I’d ever had that kept me from bouncing all over the place. What Lauren objected to was the nude color, which coordinated with the racing stripes on the matching black yoga pants.
“I like you naked in private,” she muttered. “I’ll need to be with you whenever you go to the gym.”
“I won’t complain, since I’m very much enjoying the view at the moment.” Plus, I was perversely excited by her possessiveness after the hurt she’d inflicted with her withdrawal Saturday night. Two very different extremes—the first of many, I was sure.
“Let’s get this over with.” shegrabbed my hand and led me away from the locker rooms, snatching two logo’d towels off a stack as we passed them. “I need to fuck you.”
“I need to be fucked.”
“Jesus, Camila.” Her grip on my hand tightened to the point that it hurt. “Where to? Free weights? Machines? Treadmills?”
“Treadmills. I want to run a bit.”
sheled me in that direction. I watched the way women followed her with their gazes, then their feet. They wanted to be in whatever section of the gym she was, and I couldn’t blame them. I was dying to see her in action, too.
When we reached the seemingly endless rows of treadmills and bikes, we found that there weren’t two treadmills free adjacent to each other.
Lauren walked up to a man who had two open on either side of him. “I’d be in your debt if you’d move over one.”
The guy looked at me and grinned. “Yeah, sure.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Lauren took over the man’s treadmill and motioned me to the one beside it. Before she programmed her workout, I leaned over to her. “Don’t burn off too much energy,” I whispered. “I want you missionary-style the first time. I’ve been having this fantasy of you on top, banging the hell out of me.”
Her gaze burned into me. “Camila, you have no idea.”
Nearly giddy with anticipation and a lovely surge of feminine power, I got on my treadmill and started at a brisk walk. While I warmed up, I set my iPod shuffle to random and when “Sexy Back” by Justin Timberlake came on I hit my stride and went full-out. Running was both a mental and physical exercise for me. Sometimes I wished just running fast could get me away from whatever was troubling me.
After twenty minutes I slowed, then stopped, finally risking a glance at Lauren who was running with the fluidity of a well-oiled machine. shewas watching CNN on the overhead screens, but she flashed a grin at me as I wiped the sweat off my face. I swigged from my water bottle as I moved to the machines, picking one that give me a clear view of her.
shewent a full thirty on the treadmill; then she moved to free weights, always keeping me in her line of sight. As she worked out, quickly and efficiently, I couldn’t help thinking how virile she was. It helped that I knew exactly what was in her shorts, but regardless, she was a woman who worked behind a desk, yet kept her body in combat shape.
When I grabbed a fitness ball to do some crunches, one of the trainers came up to me. As one would expect in a top-of-the-line gym, he was handsome and very nicely built.
“Hi,” he greeted me, with a movie star smile that showcased perfect white teeth. He had dark brown hair and eyes of nearly the same color. “First-timer, right? I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“Yes, first time.”
“I’m Daniel.” He extended his hand, and I gave him my name. “Are you finding everything you need, Camila?”
“So far so good, thanks.”
“What flavor smoothie did you go for?”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Your free orientation smoothie.” He crossed his arms and his thick biceps strained the narrow cuffs of his uniform polo shirt. “You didn’t get one from the bar downstairs when you signed up? You’re supposed to.”
“Ah, well.” I shrugged sheepishly, thinking it was a nice touch all the same. “I didn’t have the usual orientation.”
“Did you get the tour? If not, let me take you around.” He touched my elbow lightly and gestured toward the stairs. “You also get a free hour of personal training. We could do that tonight or make an appointment for later in the week. And I’d be happy to take you down to the health bar and scratch that off the list, too.”
“Oh, I can’t really.” My nose wrinkled. “I’m not a member.”
“Ah.” He winked. “You’re here on a temp pass? That’s fine. You can’t be expected to make up your mind if you don’t get the full experience. I can assure you, though, that CrossTrainer is the best gym in Manhattan.”
Lauren appeared at Daniel’s shoulder. “The full experience is included,” she said, coming around and behind me to slide her arms around my waist, “when you’re the owner’s girlfriend.”
The word “girlfriend” reverberated through me, sending a crazy rush of adrenaline through my system. It was still sinking in that we had that level of commitment, but that didn’t stop me from thinking the designation had a nice ring to it.
“Miss Jauregui.” Daniel straightened and took a step back; then extended his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Daniel has me sold on the place,” I said to Lauren, as they shook hands.
“I thought I’d done that.” Her hair was wet with sweat and she smelled divine. I’d never known a sweaty man could smell so damn good.
Her hands stroked down my arms and I felt her lips on the crown of my head. “Let’s go. See you later, Daniel.”
I waved good-bye as we walked away. “Thanks, Daniel.”
“Anytime.”
“I bet,” Lauren muttered. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off your tits.”
“They’re very nice tits.”
she made a low growling noise. I hid my amusement.
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mars-commissions · 3 years
Text
Kaito x Kei Fluff Commission
2k words
Kaito stopped his motorcycle in front of Kei’s house, removing his helmet to let his short blonde hair breathe, the spiked locks swaying in the breeze. His roots were notably darker than the rest of his hair, seeing as he liked to dye it a lighter tone to match his golden eyes. If you came closer to him, you’d notice a small smiley-face earring on his left ear. He stood a bit below average height and was clad in a black button-down shirt, brown capris, and hiking boots. With no access to a place to clean his clothes, they were a little dirty, but he managed to look presentable to the best of his ability.
It wasn’t Kei’s house exactly, but an abandoned house he and Kaito had been squatting in for a few weeks. It was a long story, but that was their current situation. Kaito had been out all day going to stores to find anything he could use to repair or use to do maintenance on his motorbike. Who knew, what if they’d have to leave town and go somewhere more rural, far from any stores? They knew they wouldn’t be able to stay in one place for long, but at least they had each other.
The two boys were only seventeen but had experienced things that you wouldn’t normally have to go through at that age. Most of their peers weren’t running from the cops after breaking out of prison, they were at home sleeping or staying up all night to study. After all, they were only teenagers. They should be in school too, but they didn’t have much of a choice. The idea of being on the run constantly felt pretty ordinary to them at this point.
It especially wasn’t a foreign idea to Kaito, seeing as his dad was a convict and a distrust for a system was all he had ever known. He never trusted the police as a child and was taught to be clever like his father. The reason why the two boys had been separated, to begin with, was that Kaito’s dad was a felon. Kei had cut him off as soon as his mom told him. He regretted it now, but Kaito had moved on and accepted Kei’s apology.
He patiently waited for his boyfriend to come out to go on a ride with him. It was fairly late into the night. Kaito had chosen to ride at night because there were fewer cars and it was peaceful at night. They also were at a lower risk of getting caught and sent back to jail. Kaito going out for the day was one thing, but the two of them in public in broad daylight was just asking to get arrested again.
Kaito was cautious and made sure to wear sunglasses inside of stores when he didn’t have his motorcycle helmet on. It wasn’t the best disguise, but it was better than nothing. But at night, they’d be as free as birds, able to go anywhere they desired within the city with a low risk of being discovered. The door to the abandoned house opened and Kei sprinted over to him, hugging him. Kaito laughed it off, slipping his helmet onto Kei’s head.
Kei was taller than Kaito, but only by a bit and was a lot scrawnier. Kaito was the strongest of the two, but Kei made up for it with his intellect. Kei had short black hair which could be seen through the visor of the helmet. He had been wearing his signature outfit; a white t-shirt tucked into plain black pants. He too didn’t have many options for clothes and had to make do with whatever he had with nothing but the clothes on his back.
“I missed you all day, I was so worried.” Kei grinned.
“I did too. I don’t mind if I get hurt if we end up in an accident, but I don’t think I’d ever been able to forgive myself if something were to happen to you,” Kaito said as he adjusted the various buckles to fit Kei’s head.
It had been a while since they had reunited and the two had started dating very quickly into their reconciliation. They were inseparable. Kaito was very protective over Kei and wouldn’t dare let anyone lay as much as a finger on his beloved boyfriend. Kaito was shorter by a bit but would take anyone down if it meant his boyfriend would be protected. He sounded like he was very strong, but he had a soft spot in his heart for Kei. No matter how hard he tried to hide behind a rough exterior, he’d always be loving to Kei, even if they were fighting, which seldom happened.
“Ok, weirdo, don’t get all mushy on me,” Kei teased, bringing up his old nickname for his boyfriend.
“Not my fault that I care about your safety. You mean so much to me.” Kaito smiled, getting on his motorcycle.
Kaito patted the space on the black leather seat behind him, letting Kei sit with his arms wrapped around him. He rested his head on his shoulder, shutting his eyes and giving him a tight squeeze, letting out a sigh of comfort. Kaito blushed, smiling to himself. He loved when Kei was affectionate because it gave him a sense of reassurance. It was as if it were Kei’s way of telling him that all of this being on the run stuff was worth it if it meant that he would get to be with him. He knew that of course, but it was the heartful reminder that he needed.
“Where to?” Kaito asked.
“I’m not sure, just take me anywhere.” Kei shrugged.
Kaito started up his motorcycle and began to gain momentum. He stayed at a reasonable speed, cruising down the barren streets. The roads were empty, aside from a few parked cars on the side of the road. They had intentionally chosen this location to hide in temporarily, because of how close it was to their childhood homes. It was for nostalgic purposes, rather than being a safe place to hide. They were sure they’d be caught sooner, but maybe the police assumed they had gone elsewhere. It might have been the last time they got to see their hometown and they wanted to make the most of it before it was too late. He stopped in front of a playground, pointing at it to draw Kei’s attention.
“I remember going to that park as a kid with you before we stopped talking,” Kaito said.
The playground was empty without a person in sight. The colourful structure was lined with ladders, slides, and monkey bars for children to play on. There was even a swing set. The metal chains holding the swings up squeaked as the wind passed through them, making them rub against each other.
“I remember playing here too. I’m really sorry for cutting you out of my life all of those years. I still feel a little guilty about it sometimes. I thought you hated me for the longest time.” Kei sighed, burying his face into Kaito’s shoulder.
“Don’t feel bad about it. You were just a kid and didn’t understand. I’m so glad you came back eventually.” Kaito reassured, starting his motorcycle back up.
“I’m glad I did too,” Kei said in agreeance.
The motorcycle continued to take them to their next mystery location. They passed by the houses of the suburban area before they slowly turned into shops, indicating that they were out in a more public area and would need to be extra careful. Kaito stopped the motorcycle in front of a convenience store, parking it so they could go inside. Before they could go in, the two boys put on hats and sunglasses. They looked a bit odd to be wearing them at night but was for the sake of concealing their identities, even if it meant looking a bit unusual. Kaito opened the door for Kei as they made their way inside.
“Let’s get slushies and drink them on the curb,” Kaito suggested.
“Sure, why not. I feel like we deserve it after all we had to go through.” Kei laughed, shaking his head at Kaito.
“Yeah, I don’t think running from the cops is something most people have to do every day,” Kaito said softly, not wanting to alert the cashier that they were convicts.
They filled up their slushie cups with soda-flavoured slush and headed to the counter to pay. As he made small talk with the cashier, Kei paid for their slushies and snacks they grabbed on the way out. They could’ve easily shoplifted, but getting caught and sent back to jail over a cheap chocolate bar wasn’t worth the risk, even if it meant saving a few bucks.
Sitting on the curb next to where Kaito had parked the motorcycle, they began to eat, chatting about being kids like they were old friends. It was dark out and the only illumination that allowed them to see was the light seeping through the windows of the convenience store. Blue and red light emitted from a large neon sign that informed passersby that they were open, but it wasn’t bright enough to shine on Kaito and Kei.
“Kai, I just wanted to say thanks for saving me back there. You were so willing to help me even though all I’ve ever done is pushed you aside.” Kei thanked, peeling the wrapper of a chocolate bar.
“You’ve thanked me for helping you a hundred times already. Give me a piece of chocolate and then we can be even.” Kaito said, holding his palm open.
Kei carefully broke off a piece of his chocolate bar, handing it over to Kaito, who had eaten it in mere seconds. They sat in comfortable silence as they both chewed on the chocolate pieces. Kaito inched over slowly, trying to break the space between him and Kei on the curb.
“I’m worried that if you sit too close to me, someone might see,” Kei said, biting his lip nervously.
“It’s two in the morning. I think it’s a lot more severe that we just busted out of prison than the fact that we’re dating. I’m proud to have you as my boyfriend.” Kaito smiled.
“I guess you’re right. And no one’s around to see this.” Kei blushed, leaning closer to Kaito and softly kissing his cheek.
Kaito put his arm around Kei so he could rest his head on Kaito’s shoulder. It was a little chilly since it was late in the night, so cuddling made it easier to share their body heat so neither of the two would get cold.
“Nope. I can promise you that only I saw that. And even if someone did, they’d just be happy for us. And if they weren’t, I’d fight them for you.” Kaito chuckled.
“I don’t think there’s anyone else I’d rather be on the run with. You know so much more than me, I’m more book smart when it comes to intelligence, but that means almost nothing out here.” Kei sighed.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, I think you’re smart,” Kaito assured.
The two snuggled on the curbside as the sky went from dark and full of stars to a light reddish-orange. Clouds dotted the sky, now more visible that the sun was peaking over the horizon ahead of them. The picturesque cityscape left the two in awe. It was bittersweet to have to leave the city so soon, but they knew they wouldn’t be able to stay long. The city was beautiful, but it was too risky and they’d surely be caught lurking there. Out in the middle of nowhere was their only option.
“So,” Kaito murmured, ”What do you say we get out of here before we’re seen?”
“Yeah, let’s get going.” Kei agreed.
And just like that, the boys were back on Kaito’s motorcycle, looking for somewhere new to crash.
Message me if you’re interested in commissioning me!
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shutupandshipit · 3 years
Text
Sharpen your blades - Ch.2
Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.
”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.
“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”
…..
Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.
Pairing: Bakudeku
Rating: T
Chapter: 2/20
Previously <- Chapter 1: Pairs
Chapter 3: Training -> Next
Chapter 2: Refusal
Katsuki laughed as he spun faster and faster, holding Izuku’s hands so that when his feet left the ice, he stayed in the air. The Death Spiral was their favorite trick to modify, and as they got older, they got bolder. They hadn’t been allowed to include this particular modification in competition, but Katsuki knew they’d get to one day.
That wouldn’t be for another couple of years, but that just meant they had time to improve together and individually.
Their coach, a tall spindly beta man, called from the rink entrance. “Alright, everyone! Come gather over here for a moment. I’ve got some announcements to make!”
Izuku’s blades bit back into the ice as they slowed, still laughing. “Are you excited, Kacchan? You put in for the single skate events this year, right?” he asked, grinning as they meanered away from center ice. They weren’t the only ones taking their time, but they were the furthest from the entrance.
Nodding, Katsuki’s eyes found the dusty yet still colorful ribbons and trophies that lined the ledge of the announcer’s booth. “Yeah, wanted to try it out. Can’t get better if I’m never alone, and I want my name to be up there! Right where all those first place trophies are. I’m going to be better than anyone else! You too, right?”
Izuku nodded enthusiastically, cheeks flushed pink. “We’ve never gotten to skate on our own before. I think it’ll be fun. But I want to skate as a pair in the December preliminaries before we go to seniors.”
“Don’t worry about that, dumbass, that’s years away! We’ll still skate pairs before then. Just not this year.”
Izuku nodded, but didn’t reply as they finally slid up to the forming group of skaters. They were all ages from the youngest being 3-years-old to the oldest being 17-years-old, but even at ten, Izuku still looked tiny compared to everyone else. Taking his hand, Katsuki pulled him around to an opening between bodies, and shoved him through so they could both see what was going on.
Their hands never left each other.
“Good, good, everyone is here,” Coach said, eyes scanning over them, “So, we all know that the April showcase in Yuuei is coming up. Is everyone excited?” The group cheered. “Fantastic! I have the skating assignments right here! Is everyone ready to hear them?” The group cheered again, deafening in the echoing space of the rink. “Great! I’ll start with our pairs. I’m happy to officially welcome Midoriya and Bakugou as our Alpha/Omega pair! They presented just two weeks ago, and I’m sure you can guess who presented as what.” He chuckled, but the sentiment wasn’t echoed by the group.
Katsuki’s ears burned.
The other skaters were dead silent, all eyes finding them as the scent of burning charcoal slowly filled the air. Even at ten, Katsuki’s temper was volatile, only made worse by Izuku’s sickly sweet embarrassed scent. Like rotting fruit.
Sure, everyone could smell that they’d had first rut and heat, but it just wasn’t something people commented on. Going through puberty was embarrassing enough without everyone also knowing when they presented. Everyone just knew, and that was that.
Someone cleared their throat. One of the older skaters, an alpha woman with long white hair and brown skin, spoke up, “Um, Coach, I might be mistaken, but both Deku and Kacchan put in for single skate this year. We all thought it would be a good idea for them to get experience on their own.”
“No, no, you’re right,” Coach said flippantly, “but I decided otherwise. Why fix something that isn’t broken. It looks better for us as a team to have an Alpha/Omega pair, and it’ll be easier for them to win since same-sex pairs are unconventional.”
The rest of the older skaters shifted uncomfortably, expressions morphing as the alpha spoke up again. “That’s really not the point here. The point is for them to have fun and experience new things. There’s others of us who pair skate.”
Katsuki was burning from the inside out, anger stealing the words from his throat. He didn’t think he’d ever been so angry before.
“The point,” Coach said with emphasis, “is to make our team look good. Looking good equals more attention which equals more money. Which is important to keeping this rink up and running. Skating isn’t about having fun, it’s about winning. They’re better together than either of them ever would be alone. So if Bakugou and Midoriya want to continue to skate with our team, then they’ll skate pairs. That’s that. End of discussion. Anyone who has an issue with that can take their chances finding a different team.” With a wave of his hand, he continued down the list of pairs as if there had never been an interruption.
Grinding his teeth, Katsuki ripped his hand from Izuku’s. He ignored the hurt whine that came from the other boy.
The alpha that had tried to defend them shouldered passed the coach with a hissed, “Fuck you,” just loud enough for the entire team to hear over his talking. She grabbed her guards and her gear, and they never saw her at practice again. When the coach got fired two years later though, they knew she was behind it. Too bad it was too little, too late.
…..
Rage roared through Katsuki, and suddenly, the burning charcoal scent of his anger crowded out Izuku’s acidic anxiety scent from his nose. Blood thrummed loudly in his ears as his temperature rose with each beat of his heart, much like the first time he’d been required to partner with Izuku. It had always been their choice until it hadn’t been, and that pissed him off more than anything.
He couldn’t even hear Aizawa’s next words.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he exploded, forcing himself not to look at Izuku when he heard the little unconscious whine the omega made. A sound that had his alpha screaming at him to ‘ calm, scent, protect, calm, help, protect .’ He hated it, hated the instinctual need, wished he could rip his alpha right from his chest. “This is a fucking joke, right? You expect me to fucking skate with him ?”
Aizawa slowly lifted his eyes from his clipboard, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, I do. You two are the best for this despite the fact you can barely speak civilly to each other for more than a moment.”
A manic laugh spilled from Katsuki’s mouth, and the teammates near him took careful steps back. “That’s a joke! That has to be a goddamn joke!”
Yaoyorozu’s hand shot into the air, worry etched into her features. Katsuki wanted to rip it from her arm. “I also don’t understand, Coach. Surely it’d be more beneficial to pair myself with Shouto or Midoriya, wouldn’t it?”
‘ Yes, agree. Switch Izuku’s goddamn partner. I can’t- ’ he thought desperately, but knew Aizawa wouldn’t.
“No. The program I’ve selected for the top rank is going to be difficult. Even if it weren’t, I can’t have someone who has never skated pairs trying to master it in just three months. We just don’t have the time to get you up to that skill level. On top of that, I’m not going to move two of my top three over to pairs when Bakugou and Midoriya have skated pairs previously. They are also the bottom of my top five. They’re the best option to make partners,” Aizawa explained, voice growing monotone the longer he spoke.
Katsuki couldn’t and wouldn’t skate with Izuku again! It just wasn’t going to fucking happen! This felt like the last time they were paired up for their dynamics, and he hated the sick black feeling that bloomed in his chest. Every rank dropped, every point lost, every mistake made flashed through his mind as if they’d happened yesterday.
He could still remember the sound of Izuku hitting the ground, the failed catch, the other skaters’ gasps even as no one moved. The smell of blood thick in his nose, his hands trembling, the anguish on Izuku’s face.
He hadn’t been the one to throw him, but he was still at fault in the end.
“I’m not skating with Deku!”
Aizawa’s eyes returned to Katsuki along with the rest of his teammates, stony and set. “Yes, you will. If you don’t, I’ll drop you from the team and you can find another to skate with. With your legendary attitude, I can’t imagine many would want you. Your choice.”
He was being forced into a corner again, given an ultimatum that wasn’t really a choice at all. If it was between skating and never skating again, there wasn’t a decision to be made. The blackness in his chest only expanded, spreading through his chest and up into his throat, choking him.
He ground his teeth together savagely, an ache sprouting in his jaw. “What the fuck ever, but I’m not practicing with him. Fuck that.” It was stupid, he knew it was. Eventually, he would have to practice with Izuku. Eventually, he’d have to eat his own words. There was no way around it, not if they wanted to have any chance of actually placing. That didn’t mean he couldn’t master his part of the skate to the most minor of hand placements before attempting the larger tricks with him.
He wasn’t going to be the one to let Izuku get hurt again.
Rolling his eyes, Aizawa seemed to be done with the argument. For now. “As long as you don’t make us look like a group of fools at the charity event, I don’t care how you figure it out. No deaths, no injuries and no stupid mistakes. Now, back to what I was saying. If anyone else wants to waste my time today, just leave.”
No one left the rink, but Katsuki shoved away from the wall with a snarl and found his way to Kirishima and Ashido’s sides. The pair were grinning at him, Kirishima placatingly and Ashido goadingly. He didn’t wait for them to say anything. “Pinky, I’m going to need to borrow you for practice.”
Her smile was sharp as she ruffled her pink spikes. “Not even going to ask first?”
“Are you going to say no?”
She shrugged her pink clad shoulders. “No, as long as you help me with my program. I’m competing too, and I’m going to need time to practice.”
“Sure, whatever. Just need you for the stuff I can’t do on my own. Lifts, death spiral, that shit.”
“I can help, but why not just practice with your partner? Hm? I’ve seen the videos, Bakubro, you two were really good. You used to tear up the ice,” she needled, and Kirishima shot her a reproachful glance.
He sighed and smiled at Katsuki. “Listen, man, I don’t want to like pry or anything, but I think you should just practice with him too. Maybe if you talk?”
“Shut it. None of that is either of your business. Just fucking leave it,” Katsuki snapped.
They shrugged, and let the topic drop even if it wasn’t for good.
…..
Izuku hadn’t been able to pay attention to Aizawa after that, his mind racing in circles to figure out what he could do. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, and he was sure that no matter who Katsuki practiced with, he’d be able to perform with Izuku when the time came no matter what. It was Izuku himself that he was worried about.
There were a lot of things he could practice alone. Foot work and jumps synced to the milli-second with whatever track Aizawa chose for them. His costume and hair. Hand placement. Endurance. There were also a lot of things that he couldn’t do by himself that were, in retrospect, the most important aspects of their performance.
Those included, but were not limited to, lifts and throws. To put it simply, he couldn’t perform any of the tricks alone.
Pair skating required an astounding amount of trust and understanding between partners, just like anything else where two people were working together. The only person he truly and completely trusted on the ice anymore was himself. That was no one’s issue, but his own. Now, he didn’t have a choice. While he knew he could trust Katsuki and his caliber, was sure that Katsuki would never drop or fail to catch him, he didn’t know if he could let himself be that vulnerable again. He didn’t want to disappoint Katsuki when he couldn’t bring himself to do a trick, and he didn’t know if Katsuki could understand why he couldn’t.
They hadn’t been able to understand each other for a long time.
Aizawa had made a terrible mistake.
With each beat of Izuku’s heart, phantom pain flared from his hip to his ankle, from elbow to wrist. It had been eight years since he got hurt, but the fear that it might happen again followed him every time he stepped out onto the ice.
“Midoriya.” Todoroki snapped Izuku out of his own thoughts with a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced up to find the others dispersing. Most pushed back out onto the ice, some sat down to put their heads together, others stuck around to ask Aizawa questions. His friends were still standing close though; Iida, Uraraka, Asui, and Tokoyami. “Most of my pair work has been as lead, so I can help you practice until Bakugou pulls his head out of his ass.”
Izuku wanted to protest, to say that it wasn’t all Katsuki’s fault, but he couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t make his lips move to form the ones he did have.
“Is that really wise?” Iida asked seriously as he leaned down to remove his guards and step out onto the ice. He remained at the wall, face tense. “Pair skating is already difficult enough, but practicing without your intended partner…”
“I have to wonder the same thing,” Tokoyami sighed, glancing over his shoulder towards where Katsuki was briskly correcting Kirishima’s clumsy pick placement, “Wouldn’t that cause more problems than it solves?”
Asui placed a considering finger against her lips. “It seems odd that he’s so against it too. I know he’s smarter than he’s acting right now, so I’m surprised he’d take the risk.”
“Not only that, but you’ll have to practice too, Todoroki! Wouldn’t it just be better to practice with him from the beginning?” Uraraka asked earnestly, “Why is he so against it anyway? I know you two haven’t gotten along in a long time, but this seems excessive. Coach Aizawa isn’t asking you to be friends, he’s just asking you to skate. I thought Bakugou knew how to compartmentalize better than this.”
‘ Then you don’t know, Kacchan .’ Izuku didn’t say that out loud, even if he wanted to. He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. After a moment, he smiled. “Kacchan isn’t the only one with reservations. It’s just… there’s a lot that we haven’t worked through.” Read: that he hasn’t worked through. Nothing that happened when they were younger was Katsuki’s fault, at least Izuku didn’t see it that way.
His friends rolled their eyes. “You don’t have to make excuses for him,” Todoroki said, leaning forward to check his laces before standing.
Except that he wasn’t. His friends and teammates knew that Izuku and Katsuki had both skated pairs for most of their childhood and knew each other through their mothers. What no one knew was that Katsuki had been his partner most of that time. His friends didn’t know everything that they went through after they presented. They didn’t know why they had decided to go singles after skating pairs for so long. They didn’t know exactly how Izuku had gotten hurt. Maybe one day he’d be able to tell them, but every time he remembered that he spent an entire year thinking he’d never skate again, it just made his breath grow short and his heart beat fast.
They didn’t even know that Toshinori and Aizawa were the only reason he was still skating now.
Swallowing thickly, Izuku forced a smile as he allowed Todoroki to help him to his feet. “I’m not.”
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notsoharsh · 3 years
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Let’s Grab a Bite || Miriam & Harsh
Timing: A week ago Location: Eluria Cemetery Participants: @meflemming​ and @notsoharsh​ Summary: Harsh and Miriam skip out on a party to find common ground over a late night snack. Content warnings: Quick medical blood mention
Eluria Cemetery was almost like a tourist trap as far as Harsh was concerned. Maybe he was getting old, but there was something about the ragers that new vampires threw that just seemed exhausting now. They didn’t have the same shine as they used to when he would dive right into the middle. He had come by to get a couple drinks, but his attention had started waning before he had finished his first solo cup of spiked blood. Waving off a few enthusiastic hangers on, he wandered his way out of the large crypt. The night air was still and cool away from the stuffy tomb. Cup still dangling from his fingers, he found a headstone to lean against as his eyes drifted over the cemetery. A solitary figure caught his eye. A woman, but an unfamiliar one. She didn’t look like the rager type either. Idly, he pushed himself off the headstone, slowly sauntering over. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. If you’re here for the party, I should warn you, it’s pretty lame.” 
Being around others of her “kind” always made Miriam a little perturbed. It wasn’t that she disliked other vampires. She simply didn’t care to get to know them. She had better things to do than go to Teeth or the Bloody Stake to indulge in blood with the rest of her cohorts. In fact, she had never been particularly attracted to the idea of sharing a meal with someone. Her meal tended to be long and messy, and she didn’t have time to share. So… she didn’t particularly understand why she’d been drawn to the party going on in Eluria. She’d been hunting magic users when she’d stumbled across it, the noise with a distinct lack of heartbeats catching her attention. She decided to watch a bit on the outskirts, intrigued and a bit disturbed by what was going on inside the crypt. They all seemed to be having fun, certainly. But she didn’t feel a part of them. She didn’t feel a part of anything. She noticed the gentleman walking towards her, though, and she gave him a charming smile. “I’m not one for parties, I’m afraid. Keep to myself, you know. And, well, if you say the party’s lame, darling, then I’m inclined to believe you. You seem like the type to know.”
“Oh, I do. I can spot a boring rager from a mile away.” Harsh offered his hand. “I’m Harsh, by the way. Are you new in town?” He couldn’t remember ever seeing her around, but then again, it wasn’t like he had been there particularly long either. There were always more vampires crawling out of the woodwork. He could probably live in White Crest for a hundred years and never quite meet all of them. Still, it never hurt to make a few new friends. Hanging around humans always posed a risk. There was a chance they might notice just how chilled his fingers were, or the smell of their blood might get a little too enticing. Though the music drifting from the party was on the edges of his awareness, he couldn’t pick up a heartbeat from the stranger. But, in White Crest, that could mean a whole mess of things. 
“Pleasure to meet you, Harsh. I’m Miriam,” she said, taking his hand. She gave him a wide grin. “Not new, no, I’ve lived here my whole life, actually. I just… had to leave for a bit.” Not that she could really leave town, a fact that embittered her every time she thought about it. She thought about the mausoleum on her property, of all the years she spent willingly trapped in there, not conscious but not sleeping, either. “What about you? Have you been in town very long?” She looked at the party going on a short distance away and gave a slight snort. “Besides being around long enough to tell a bad party from a good one, of course.” She felt uncomfortable even being within this proximity to the party. Not that she didn’t love parties; at least, she had when she was alive. There was just something that she didn’t really connect with when it came to supernatural ragers. They distracted her from her goals.
“Oh yeah? A local huh. Well, I’ve only been here for a little while, but I can’t blame you for needing to get away for a bit. This place is… kind of a lot,” Harsh said, with a little chuckle. Though he had only arrived some months ago, it felt like a few years worth of insanity had happened in that time. “Nah, not too long, well… actually, I think I’m getting near to six months now, so I guess that’s a decent while.” Following her look, Harsh nodded. “Well, that’s something I picked up way before White Crest. That one’s going to fizzle out fast. Y’know, I was thinking of going for a walk, I wouldn’t mind some company if you don’t have anything else going on tonight. How about it? Maybe we could even find something to eat?” The wink he added on was probably unnecessary, but if never hurt to tack on a little extra charm. 
“A lot is a terrible understatement,” Miriam said, smiling at this stranger. “But it’s home. Nowhere else I can ever hope to be. You get used to it.” She cocked her head a bit and nodded. Yes, she’d been awake for about six months, give or take. “I think the last six months have been the weirdest I’ve ever experienced in my time living here, which is saying something, truly.” Of all the witches and vampires, werewolves and fae, none of them had ever caused as much trouble as the last six months. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Miriam cast her eyes back to the party that she’d had no interest in to begin with and then back to the vampire in front of her, one of the few she’d met that she actually found interesting. She grinned. “Well, when a gentleman like you ask, how could a lady possibly say no? A walk and a bite to eat would be lovely.” She wasn’t even particularly thirsty. Maybe she just craved the company. “Tell me, Harsh, what’s your favorite flavor?”
“Fair enough,” Harsh said, with a little chuckle. He definitely couldn’t argue with that. “Huh, I wonder if it’s just gotten extra weird recently. I’ve kinda traveled a lot and I’ve never been anywhere with as much weird as White Crest. It keeps things interesting at least.” As exhausting as the place could be, Harsh couldn’t recall the last time he was bored. Between the killer mimes and all the other nonsense that seemed to make the front page every few days, there was always something to keep busy with. Smiling, he moved to fall into step at Miriam’s side. The smell of death was everywhere, pretty normal. Somewhere past that, toward the edge of the graveyard, there was something a little more lively. Maybe a jogger or someone out walking their dog. Whoever they were, it probably wasn’t their lucky night. “Hmm, depends what I’m in the mood for, I guess. I like spicy things most of the time… but I don’t mind a little B positive now and then. What about you?”
“It wasn’t this strange, when I was growing up,” Miriam said, though she frowned. “Or, if it was, it was a lot easier to ignore. You’re certainly right, though. Never a dull moment around here.” She looked at him, interested and curious. “Where all have you traveled to? I haven’t been out in the world too much.” She regretted that, now. She should have traveled when she was alive, before she was stuck here, forever a prisoner in the place she’d always called home, haven. She supposed there were worse places to be trapped. At least White Crest was familiar. She glanced towards the sound of life, a heartbeat, a quickened pulse. It didn’t stir her appetite so much as remind her that she could go for a bite, if she were so inclined. And, looking at the gentleman beside her, she felt inclined. “Spicy things are nice, the stronger the better. Just so that it has any flavor at all. I find I’m not particularly picky, though,” she paused, “magic users. I think that’s my particular flavor of choice.” Miriam laughed, keeping her tone light. “ Of course, I know it’s just my mind probably playing tricks on me, but, I don’t know. I like to imagine that the magic in their blood gives it an extra kick.”
“Huh, I wonder if something’s changed,” Harsh said, frowning. It would make sense. If a place was always as weird as White Crest, why would anyone still live there? “Oh, all over. I cruised around Europe for a while, spent a couple years in India, then Australia. I’m, uh, a little older than I look. I sort of get this itch when I’ve been in one place for too long, y’know?” There was also the fact that… by the time Harsh left a place, he usually wasn’t exactly welcome there anymore. “Spellcasters huh? They do have a little kick to them sometimes, you’re not wrong. I remember this one guy I ate--he said he was a warlock or something, what a nerd--but he was the best I’d had in a while.” It was freeing, talking about eating people without worrying that he was about to get staked. He spent so much time, too much, trying to be normal, to pretend like he fit in with boring old humans. Not having to constantly watch his words, play the sweet little goody goody, it was a massive relief. The heartbeat was getting closer, a bouncing, healthy thrum. Harsh licked his lips. “So, do you wanna do the honors, or do you want me to grab dinner?”
“Maybe it’s aliens,” Miriam mused. “That used to be a big theory for some of the weirdness back in the eighties. Or maybe someone opened a portal to hell and let all the monsters out.” She grinned a bit. “More fun for us, huh?” She listen to him talk about where all he’s been, fascinated and more than a little jealous. “What’s your favorite place, that you’ve been? The place that makes you the happiest, or that you think is the prettiest?” It had been stupid, in her youth, to not enjoy the world while she could. “We’re all a bit older than we look, I suppose, though I’m only,” she paused, trying to remember, “sixty? Not old, by our standards, I suppose.” Though, how the hell was she supposed to know? Her interactions with vampires were limited, to say the least. “Spellcasters. My husband was one. Technically, I suppose he’s still one. A very dead one, along with the rest of his wretched family. The blood’s nice. The screams are better.” Miriam could so rarely talk about this. Morgan would judge her for it, hate her for it, and Evelyn… Miriam didn’t want to bring Evelyn into any of this at all. Both of them knew about her preferences, but they couldn’t understand it. Not like Harsh possibly, hopefully could. “Oh, you do the honors, darling. I wasn’t expecting a meal, anyway, so this is a real treat. I’m following your lead.”
“Could be. I feel like aliens would want to land somewhere a little more interesting though. Hell portal sounds about right though.” With all the strangeness Harsh had seen, that actually didn’t seem all that far off. It would explain some of the things he had seen at the hospital. “My favorite, oh that’s tough. Probably Paris, I hung out in the catacombs for a while.” He glanced over her, nodding a little. She didn’t look sixty, but then, he didn’t look over a hundred. The whole not aging thing definitely had its perks. “That’s not bad. I’m a little older than that… just take sixty and add a hundred. Or two.” It was weird saying it out loud. He had been telling people he was just twenty-eight for more than two centuries, it almost felt wrong. A little smile curled onto his face. “So you like it when they scream? Y’know, I gotta say, a little background noise makes it even sweeter. I usually try to keep them quiet, but sometimes, it’s nice to know you can still scare the shit out of people.” People were so desensitized these days, especially here. Grin growing, Harsh nodded. He didn’t need much more encouragement than that. They were closer now, enough to make out the jogger. The poor idiot was headed right for them. Bad night to try to get some exercise. Harsh let his pace quicken. Two beats of their heart, three. Harsh struck the second they were in reach. He jabbed sharply, catching their throat, leaving them stumbling and wheezing, momentum still carrying them a few more steps. Harsh was there in an instant, the jogger’s leg crunching soundly as he brought his foot down. They were still coughing, struggling to scramble away when Harsh’s teeth sank into their arm. 
“What?” Miriam asked with mock-indignation. “You don’t think that White Crest is just the most interesting place in the world?” She smirked though, not truly invested in her words. She was far more interested in his. “Paris always sounded lovely, and I once heard about how lively the catacombs are, all things considered.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation with a vampire, much less one so old. She wondered, for probably the first time, about her maker. How old were they? Were they still in town? Did she actually care? “Well, I think we both look good for our age, don’t you?” She smiled back at him, showing her teeth. Her fangs. “I think the screaming, the fear, that’s the best part. Probably better than the blood, sometimes,” she said, a bit quietly. It didn’t matter. With his hearing, she knew he could hear her. She followed him, let him go in first. Hesitated, momentarily. This was… a new experience. Was this what their kind was supposed to do? Hunt together, feed together, a sort of twisted community founded on the blood that others provided. She found that she wasn’t against it, exactly. She rushed forward herself, taking the jogger’s other arm. She ran the tips of her fingers over the flesh near their wrist before digging her nails in, savoring the agony it brought them. She could almost imagine she felt magic inside them and wondered if it was real or not. Whatever it was, it felt heady as she brought her mouth to their already bleeding wrist and drank.
“I mean, it’s got it’s upsides, but I think that it leaves something to be desired.” Harsh didn’t have quite the hatred for White Crest that some of the locals seemed to, but… it didn’t take a genius or even a soul to see why they wanted to be anywhere else. “They’re great. I had a couple buddies there, we’d hang around and pick off tourists who got lost.” Maybe not the most noble way to hunt, but it was fun. Sometimes being the villain in a horror movie scenario was a pretty sweet gig. He nodded. “The fear makes it better sometimes. It’s a rush, isn’t it? Seeing that panic and knowing you did that.” A little sadistic maybe, Harsh had the awareness to see that at least, even if it wouldn’t stop him doing it. It felt good. Why should he hold himself back from one of un-life’s greatest pleasures? He watched, almost gleefully as Miriam sank her teeth in. This was how it should be. Eating, doing whatever they wanted without worrying about some damn slayer giving them crap for it. He drank deep as the struggling slowed and stopped, wiping his mouth as he pulled away. “Not as good as a witch, but I bet we can find one… maybe later on, if you’re already full.”
Snorting, Miriam said, “It leaves quite a good bit to be desired, one finds, especially when it’s impossible to leave.” She loved this town, the way it inspired a childhood nostalgia in her, but she wished she’d seen more of the world when the door had been open for her. Now she was held in this town by some sort of curse or strange happenstance, and there appeared to be no way to fix it. “Sounds delightful, darling. Fine dining, certainly. I’d imagine France is known for all that.” She liked this man, his understanding of her, his lack of moral high ground. They weren’t the same, but they understood each other. “It really does. Gives the whole experience a nice kick.” Perhaps he didn’t feed off of it the way she did, but that was fine. She’d never enjoyed feeding like this, but maybe that was because she’d never tried to share the experience. This was nice. It was far more than she needed, bloodwise, but it was nice, and it felt good, and, really, what need did she have to curb herself? What want, what desire, would make her stop? As the jogger took their last breath, there was none. Miriam licked her lips, grinning at the other vampire. “No, but it certainly hit the spot.” She checked her watch, making sure the sun was nowhere near rising. She should get back to her home, to her guest, but… this could be more satisfactory, if they found a witch, if she could properly feed and not feel so hollow. “Why the hell not? I wouldn’t mind a bit of an overindulgence, myself, and we’ve got a bit of time.” She raised an eyebrow. “Only if your interested, though, of course.”
“Impossible to leave? Are you trapped here?” Harsh frowned. White Crest was fine for a visit, but being trapped here or anywhere sounded like a nightmare. He would’ve staked himself years ago if he had been stuck in his hometown. Staying in one place had never suited him. “Right? That panic, I always like that.” It had been a while since he had really let someone get nice and frantic before he had bitten into them. That wasn’t a good look for his attempts at good deeds. But that didn’t matter now. He could take things nice and slow, make it last, really revel in that fear. And now there was someone to enjoy it with. Bending, he grabbed the body, hauling it up and tossing it over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m very interested. Let’s get rid of this guy and then we can go find ourselves a witch. I’m thinking we maul him a little then drop him in the woods. Works every time.” He offered his free arm to Miriam, grin wide.
“Yes,” Miriam said, bitterly. “I can’t go past the damn town line. It’s a bitch.” She’d never truly forgive her younger self’s foolishness, thinking that she’d have all the time in the world to explore and live. She made do, though, and it wasn’t like there wasn’t plenty of hunting to do in White Crest. For better or worse, there was just about always a spellcaster waiting in the wings to snack on. “I’m glad someone else gets it,” she told him with a smile, using her thumb to clean the last bit of blood from her lips. She knew he probably didn’t exactly get it. Harsh, though a vampire, most likely couldn’t truly understand her plight. Still, this was nice, to have a meal with someone like herself and properly enjoy it. “Marvelous,” she said, taking Harsh’s arm. For a man with a name like that, he was an absolute gentleman. “I absolutely agree. That’s a perfect way to get rid of a body. Let’s get to it, then.”
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alovevigilante · 3 years
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(Warning: responsible over explanation out of fear of judgement from others forthcoming... thank you in advance, the management of Kari keillor, that’s me.)
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My informed precursor to my personal process (re: this writing piece): in my opinion and from my own personal experience, before you try any unfamiliar therapy on yourself, it’s good to have support, from both yourself, and a professional versed with the ability to also support you, guide you through any eventuality of feelings you may experience, and remind you, that you can decide to be present, and focused on that, at any point.
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Before you read this piece, you will be triggered by its message or not, depending on your beliefs. These upcoming words are my own experiences from my specific filter, given to you, with love. Please be responsible and respectful of me, and yourself after reading them, by not being hyper critical. Is Kari keillor even allowed to share her POV without her own judgements? We’ll see. Read on, or not.
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Wait! Now how are you reading this? What is your personal filter saying to you about my writing all of this so far? Are you defensive because I created a space for truth about people’s judgements including my own prior to your reading my opinions about my upcoming writing? Or, are you still open minded to my thoughts? Are you still here reading this, or did you blow me off a long time ago? Did you look at my selfie and make assumptions about me, and who I am? Or, are you open to hearing me speak about whatever it is that I’m going to? Will I ever know how you, the reader, feels about any of this? Do you know how I’m feeling as I type this? Are you sure you do, if you do? What’s my intention? I told you it was love, but do you believe me? Why am I asking all this? Why, out of fear of rejection, and a little bit of messing with you, of course. How did that make you feel? I don’t feel good about it, cause it’s not really me. It’s the defensive me. So, let’s try again with a more loving energy shift.
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Trust, in the self and then subsequently in others, is the key to the Allowing love in, and that is the key, to all of my aforewritten blather. When you trust, you release your resistance to love. You are then capable of seeing things from a more positive and yes, beautiful new place. You can I’ll be able to look at old situations with a new loving perspective and energy. You will recognize the love in others. Allowing yourself to experience love, is the support you need from you, to finally kick the shit in your mind, whatever that may be blocking you from communing with others and yourself and just be happy. That means, to support your opinions, by not judging yourself, or prejudging your audience thinking they will also judge you too. And even if they don’t, you’ll most likely think they are anyway, because that’s how fear works. Fear, is a specific filter that messes with your solar plexus chakra. That is where your self esteem is housed.
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Now, If I was really worried about how I was going to be experienced by others I probably wouldn’t write publicly to begin with, and sometimes I don’t, as I also keep a journal. If I was truly upset about what others thought, I may say, “I will now delete all the rest of the shit I wrote below, because I’m not attached to it. I’m going to choose, to love myself out of fear, and not share any of me with anyone ever again. But first, I’m going to take the next 2:13 seconds to finish on the treadmill, because sometimes I write while I’m on it.” Then I may say, “Ok. I’ve completed my work out, and I’m sitting on the treadmill, writing again.” And I did say and so all of those things. And now, I’ve thought better about deleting anything, because everything I was, even my fears, has made me the me I am sitting here writing now, and you know what? I’m a pretty decent chick, and I deserve to be treated better by me. So I will preempt myself next time, and not even get this far, in my mental negative self talk, prejudging myself and others. Maybe I’ll use that my time more productively next time. Maybe I’ll eat a twizzler, and dream about what feeling I actually DO want in my life as opposed to fearing and entertaining the feelings that I don’t want, and then by thinking it, I will inadvertently feel better, or something much more fun like that. Yes. That.....
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I love to write. I love to share my feelings, my thoughts, and my experiences around all of it with you. So, instead of being defensive about my upcoming thoughts, I’m going to allow you, the reader, to create your own thoughts about what I wrote, because I trust in the process, that the messages will get to the right directions they need to. Thanks for listening, and thanks for letting me let my hair down about all this. 😉💕
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Bed head goals. Rainbow colors, all represented. Even orange. See, that’s life. Everyone, is included, but not everyone is equally aware of that fact. Everyone is family. I am not speaking specifically about the family you were born into or married into, or choose to cohabitate with. I am speaking of the family of the human race. We are all interconnected. How do you treat your family? Do you relate to people as you perceive they feel about you? Do you hold grudges? Do you treat people, as you last remembered them to be? Did you cryogenically freeze people in time in your head according to how you felt, at that certain time in your life? Do you remember the good things? Do you care about how you feel now?
I do. I care about how I feel. Right now, in this moment I’m choosing to. So I’ve decided to do that, right now, and stop answering those questions. Because the answer to them all, is to choose love. A loving feeling, a loving thought, a loving action. That’s the process to recognizing every one and everything as family. A functional family... 😉
In the moments before this one, as I wrote, I was recalling, thinking, about how I do all those things, in a more personal way. And how I felt as I recalled those specific memories, wasn’t great. For some people, it may have been good memories they were reviewing in their minds. But if you’re anything like me, most of the things you recall about your past, aren’t so very helpful or fun to think about, due to some outward situations and experiences, but underneath that, how I felt about myself at the time.
I was in therapy some years back, and we did this exercise called, “internal family systems model” or “IFSM” (1) for short, where we (my therapist and I) linked my feelings in my body or my thoughts to specific times in my life, and labeled them as parts of my former self.
For example, I would close my eyes and breathe into a relaxed state, and connect to my 15 year old self that couldn’t articulate the feelings she felt at that time, but I was holding beliefs as my current self deriving from that specific time in my life. Sometimes I would feel a pain or a physical symptom that turned into a memory I had from the past. Then, I would feel into that memory as it would arise, and explore it with the younger me that experienced it.
I would describe it as a kind of like a deliberate reverse Sybil situation, where as sybil was a dissociative case, I was fully conscious and chose to experience, as was completely aware of the process, and was able to return to a more normal, and integrated state after each session. It was an associative process for me. It’s a conditioning of the mind, where the goal, is union of the self. The purpose was to pinpoint my specific feelings in my physical body, and talk to them as if they were separate from me, because in a sense they were, by my subconscious choice out of self protection. Some of me was not on board with the me I am today, because they were stuck in the hurt of the past, and the feelings I was holding. And sometimes not on purpose, these younger parts of me were hindering me with my old stories and beliefs about myself, from fully realizing the me I wanted to be now.
The work was invaluable, and I’m extremely proud of my internal work that I’ve done. I was able to go back to my specific memories, and to the me I was at the time. I would discuss things with the younger me, and ask what the younger me needed to share with me, and to consciously choose to care for myself, council myself, and send myself love.
Sometimes it took awhile to develop the trust between the younger me, and the now older me, to reveal things even to myself. All of those feelings of hurt and pain that I held inside for years. Why the younger me felt the way she/ I did. How different as we, a whole Kari, are now, and how I can listen, to my own needs, and care for my parts of me that didn’t feel loved or appreciated back then; because I wasn’t capable at the time to show up in a supportive and loyal way for them at the time I felt hurt, betrayed or abandoned by myself. It took awhile, but I eventually came to a place of understanding from within myself, to get really honest, and then trust again. You, are also a person that feels, you. Ignoring yourself, is ignoring the person that you are the closest to.
I choose to create inner peace, with self love and kindness. I support myself, by telling those parts that act out in hurt or shame, that I still love, me. I sometimes don’t have to say a word, but I make a conscious effort to connect directly to those feelings inside of myself, and offer myself, a chance to heal, with space and love. It’s not the usual technique that people do, but I believe it helped me connect to the parts of me that felt betrayed by my former actions and thoughts, and allowed me a chance to get on the same page with where I’m at today, in a healthier way. It’s a fantastic coping mechanism for regaining the trust you need to rebuild, from within.
I honestly believe that that, regaining trust within the individual, is the key to healing the planet, and here’s how; the love cannot be recognized, understood or internalized by you, until you trust you. The trust is what allows you to let go of harsh judgements and beliefs, and allows the inner love, to be both created and experienced. If you do not trust yourself to feel love, you will act out accordingly. You won’t trust another person to have your best interest at heart. You won’t be able to feel love, even if that is the way it was intended for you.
So, the first step to experiencing love, is developing a better, more honest relationship with you. Go into the places you feel, and see. Sometimes it shows up physically. For me, it was in my throat. I felt constricted at times, like I couldn’t articulate how I wanted to verbally. I still feel that way sometimes. Writing, for me, has been a serious blessing, that I appreciate. I do it a lot. It helps me sort out my feelings on a way that I can understand, and externalize. It’s a form of self expression that allows me the time and the space, to get really honest with myself, and about my feelings. And some of those feelings, are old stories that don’t serve the current me anymore.
I found doing the parts work, that the loudest voices that I thought, meaning my loudest thoughts, were always the most hurtful to me, and others. They were what I called, “judges” and “the stenographers”. I realized they served a very important purpose in the grand scheme of me, and that purpose was to protect the smaller, younger parts of me that didn’t have a voice, or were afraid to speak their pain. The judges didn’t realize they were hurting me. But my self talk was this constant reminding of hurtful things past. The stenographers would remind me, in full detail what had previously been recorded, in order to never allow that to happen again. Only, that act of reminding was and still is, holding me back from trusting other people because of it. The judges concurred, and cast their verdicts according to the perception of the stenographer’s recounting.
I was internally protected alright, but not in a way where I could comfortably connect with others. I’m still having an issue with connection myself, as my stenographers do a very excellent and thorough job, or reminding me over and over, and over again, what I have experienced, all of my old, unhelpful stories. And anything else I didn’t know, I surmised, and filled in the blanks, usually negatively. And my judges are great too, and on it, and they cut that shit right out of my life alright, but unfortunately not out of my head. And it’s always my decision, to allow them to do it, until I decide to focus, on a new, and better story that I myself, create. So essentially I had to work backwards. I went from my life in the present, to my current actions, to my own old beliefs, to my own old thoughts, to my own old experiences around those thoughts, to my old feelings. I have decided to bypass that now, when I can, and just decide to focus on feeling better whatever that takes. It’s the current deliberate energy shift to better that changes feelings. And everything looks better, from that vantage point.
Retelling ourselves old stories, serves to keep us in a very uncomfortable place. As we grow, and we all do, what fit our lives to think and believe about ourselves and others, don’t always stay the same. The more we live, and the more experiences we have, the more we develop resolute ideas to create a semi false sense of stability on the inside. “Well, I’ve talked to her before... she’s weird....” or, “I know her type, she’s not cool.” Whatever judgements we cast upon others, we have felt and experienced ourselves in some capacity. It always starts, and ends, with us as individuals, and how we’ve felt, and how we choose to feel, next.
People can only truly believe what they have experienced or can truly connect to, and not necessarily what they have learned or heard from others. So the recognition that we are all interconnected is the first step to healing the world, but the precursor to that, is recognition of the self, and taking responsibility for how we as individuals feel. The healing must begin there first, otherwise our individual perceptions will always reflect on others, what we feel about ourselves. The basic need for belonging is in all of us. We are social beings, in need of feeling loved. If we start there, and are kinder to ourselves with our self talk, and how we choose to feel about ourselves in general, it will allow the individual to open up to see that reflection outwardly.
Because of this work, I became really interested in the process of becoming, and then began reading up on, and listening to speeches about the law of attraction, and from there, I started linking the two. My internal guidance is my family unit. And my love, is a co-creation between me, and the god force that works through me. It’s my process, my life, that I write about frequently. How can I get in touch with my feelings enough to feel, better. How can I do it? For years I looked for outside validation and acceptance for others to fill me up, but it never worked. Going within, was my only choice to feel better. I had to take responsibility for my own feelings, and ownership of my own thoughts and beliefs. No one can do it for anyone, as we are all in charge of our own filter, and how we see the world.
I am working on how I feel now. I have decided that regardless of the judgements or opinions good or bad that others hold of me, that I will no longer abide by that as my self definition. That said, I am still human, and fall prey to insecurities and depression about my life. We, as individuals can go one of two ways with it. We can project outwardly to others directly about how we feel internally or we can internalize every hurt we’ve ever felt and become a doormat for people who project their hurt onto others. I went that route first, and then I stopped. I became the me I always wanted to be, only alone. I aligned with myself, and realized that a good majority of the people that were on my life were comfortable with the old scenario. I had changed, but the dynamics of my life hadn’t. It takes awhile for the new energy to integrate with the old, established, formerly agreed upon 3D world that we all share and experience. I’m still working it out internally, so I can mesh with the already established energy in my own life in a way that better suits myself and others.
I don’t necessarily feel fabulous yet, but I’m practicing. I choose better feelings due to my focus on things that please me more often. I tend to act silly a lot, purposefully, to lighten my mood and change my energy for the better. I ask myself this question, “What can I think and believe, and truly hold that emotion as long as possible, to feel good?” And that’s how it starts. I used to be very concerned about what people thought about me. I sometimes still am, but less so now that I’ve decided to be myself more often without having to constantly apologize for it. I have noticed that genuinely happy people do not decide to think ill of themselves, then subsequently do not speak ill of others, so I’ve tried to stop gossiping. Being happy and talking trash is not the same vibrational energy. Those of us who choose to practice feeling good on the inside, are generally going to treat people with the same respect.
Loving yourself, isn’t wrong. Loving yourself, is the link you can create to become trustworthy to yourself, and to others. The lies we tell ourse subconsciously and consciously every day serve as a dissonance from within. You are love. That’s it. It’s only as simple or as complex as you want to make it. Telling yourself anything but that, is untrue, and the trust you develop with yourself can’t fully be realized. Choosing to feel good, to support yourself, and to act in accordance to that support, is the way to true happiness. And that goes for everyone. It’s not the people you need to separate from, it’s the loveless energy that we as individuals choose to hold, and to share. That decision starts with your feelings.
We are smarter than allowing our fears to override the truth about who we are. And our thoughts are a vehicle to our healing. Holding better thoughts, and disrupting old thought patterns with better energy and better topics to ruminate on will bring forth the change we wish to see in the world, but it needs to start from us, individually, and taught to our children as well.
Sister sledge sings a song called, “we are family. I got all my sisters, and me.” Yes. We have our brothers too. But the key word, is, me. We so often leave ourselves out of the equation. Love starts and ends with us. So make it happen. Be the one, who chooses, decides, and makes it different for all of us, and for you. Let’s become whole again. Let’s choose love, and everything that entails, one person at a time. Start with you. Because your internal family, needs you the most. 🌈💕
(1) from the book: Introduction to internal family systems model by Richard C. Schwartz, Ph. D.
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Survey #371
“some of those that work forces are the same that burn crosses”
What is one song you feel as though you sing particularly well, if any? Probably none, lol. What was the last lengthy task you completed? I love these unique questions I've had lately, but damn, are a lot of my answers "I don't know," lol. What type of photography do you enjoy looking at? Do you take any photos yourself, and if so, what types of things do you prefer to photograph? I love floral and wildlife photography. Landscapes, too, and I have a great fondness for boudoir for reasons I've mentioned in previous surveys. I like taking nature pictures, mainly. Have you ever gone out for the Black Friday shopping rush? Did you enjoy it, or not so much? Or, what’s the busiest shopping day you’ve ever experienced? Hell no, that's a hard pass. I'm sure the busiest shopping experience I've had was like at the mall or something around Christmas, idk. Do you enjoy reading diaries or stories you wrote from when you were younger, or does it embarrass you? If you’ve kept them, was there a particular reason for hanging on to them so long? NO. I DON'T. BECAUSE I CRINGE INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION. I keep a lot of it for memory's sake, but goddamn, is it always embarrassing. What would you say was your first true hobby? What about your most recently developed one? Um... the first thing I really remember is video games. I played Spyro like, a LOT, along with other childhood games. I was just really into gaming at a young age. Is there one thing that throws off your mood more than others, whether it be lack of sleep, lack of food, heat/cold, etc., and when was the last time you felt especially cranky? THE HEAT. I become so irritable. I was needlessly cranky a few days ago for whatever reason. What kinds of things are you likely to complain about? My legs hurting, more than anything. Also being hot. Do you like to put any extra effort into your food in terms of presentation, or do you prefer to just put it on a plate and eat it as it is, no frills? Ha, no. It's not gonna look fancy in my stomach, so whatever. Have you ever dated someone who had kids? No, and I very much doubt I ever would. Are there any candles in the room with you? No. Does the last person you kissed have tattoos? No, but I tell her all the time that dainty nature tattoos would be THE most beautiful on her. When was the last time someone called you pretty? I think when I last updated my Facebook profile picture. Do you like the color pink? It's my favorite! Does your cell phone have a case on it? What color? It came with this thin purple one. What was the last song you had on repeat? "Moon Baby" by Godsmack. Ever kissed someone your parents hated? No. Your most recent ex says he/she hates you, you say? I wouldn't *say* anything, I'd break down sobbing. Would you feel hurt if your last ex was in a relationship? No. Have you ever had to choose between two people? Yes: Jason and Juan. Juan and I dated for less than a day not all that long before Jason and I got together, and Juan was pretty upset. He was nooot a fan of Jason due to a shared ex-girlfriend. Jason, meanwhile, just didn't care. What is the saddest thing that has happened to you? What about the happiest? I think the saddest thing has to be my breakup, especially when you know just how madly in love I was with him and had endless trust that he would never leave, and then he was gone in a flash one night. The happiest is, in turn, my recovery from said split. I found strength in myself and felt hope for once as I learned coping mechanics and got a psychiatrist that was worth a shit in my partial hospitalization program. What was the last new drink you discovered that was delicious? *shrug* Do you have a YouTube channel? Yes. I don't make videos anymore, though. Were you happy as a teenager? God no, my depression was awful. What do you do for your mom on Mother’s Day? Sigh. Not enough. I just tell her happy Mother's Day, give her a hug, and try to be an extra good daughter. Do you know anyone who follows a raw vegan diet and lifestyle? No. Can you go see a doctor alone or do you like to take someone with you? I can do it alone (but only have once), but I like to bring my mom with me still. Would you have sex with someone of the same gender as you? I'm bi, so. Have you ever had a concussion? One or two, I can't remember. How many dresses do you own? Zero. Do you know anyone who has a pet gecko? Yeah, my friend Summer has a darling leopard gecko. I want oneeeeee. They look so damn derpy and adorable, and their chill demeanor is something I really like in pets. Would you ever go bear hunting? No. Absolutely never. Do you prefer drawing or painting? Any particular reason why? Drawing, for sure. At least you can erase stuff, and paint is just so messy. Do you like raisins? NO THANKS MAN. Do you remember your locker combinations from high school? Nope. Do you forget to flip the page of your calendar at the start of each month? I don't have a calendar. Are you racist to any race? Nope. Have you ever intentionally hurt an animal? I've given cats and dogs a small pop on the rear, but nothing more than that. I hate doing even that, but with the language barrier and all, sometimes it's the only way to get your point across. Do you own any autographed memorabilia? No. Have you ever dated a twin? No. Oreos or Chips Ahoy? Oreos. Have you ever considered being a cop? Yeah, no thank you. What’s your favorite superhero movie? Maybe Logan. I thought it was very emotional and just overall a good movie. Name somebody you know who deserves a better life than they have: MY MOM. Name something that you’re good at but don’t like: uhhhhhhhh Name something that you’re bad at but DO like: Dancing, maybe. Which is worse: Stale chips or flat soda? Stale chips, for sure. It's certainly not my preference, but I can drink flat soda. Who’s the hottest guy and hottest girl out there? M-Mark Fischbach. :') Girl... let's seeeeee... maybe Alissa White-Gluz from Arch Enemy. GodDAMN what a WOMAN. ❤_❤ Do you ever trip over your pets? Yes, because he just looooves to follow me at my feet. What’s your relationship like with your exes? Aaron, Juan, Jason, and Tyler: nonexistent. Sara and Girt: great. What was the last thing you turned down doing? Going to my nephew's t-ball game. I always feel bad when I say no when Mom asks if I wanna go... but at least the kids know I just don't handle the heat well. Are you a party animal? Faaaaar from it, my friend. Who are you the biggest fan of? m-m-m-mMARKIPLIER You’re DJ for the night - first track to get everyone going? Uhhhh maybe "Party Hard" by Andrew W.K.? Have you ever been hit on by a pushy person? I think Juan was kinda pushy, but not to an uncomfortable degree. He respected what I felt. What accent do you find attractive? Most attractive, British. But I also really like Scottish and Irish. Also French accents in women I tend to find very beautiful-sounding. Have you ever had feelings for a friend's partner? Yes. What’s your favorite thing to do that doesn’t cost much? Drive around take pictures, maybe? Let's, uh, ignore the whole gas crisis in this answer. When in danger are you more fight or flight? Flight. Do you feel self conscious about a certain body part? *gestures to entire body* Have you been accused of being manipulative? Yes. Have you ever considered violence to solve your problem? No. Are you romantic? I personally think so. If you are a smoker, how long does a pack typically last you? If you aren’t a smoker, does anybody you are close to smoke, & if so, are you against the fact that they’re a smoker? I don't smoke. To answer the next part, yes, like my dad and stepmom. I wish they would stop so badly, like it's literally going to kill them both. Do you have more subscribers or more people that you are subscribed to? On YouTube? I'm definitely subscribed to waaay more people. Is there anything that has been drilled into your brain since you were young & you finally decided to stop listening to? How did it feel once you decided to listen to yourself over what you were told? Yes: "finish your plate." Teaching your kid to eat beyond their comfort can be very destructive, and I'm glad I never stuck to that once Mom stopped enforcing it. If you are currently in a relationship, what is one thing that seems to be unique or different about your relationship with this person, compared to other relationships in general? If you are currently single, is this more of a choice or is it more just the way things are going, not really something you chose? If you are neither “single” or officially in a relationship, what are your feelings on your current situation? I'm single, and it's just how it is. I know realistically I wouldn't tell what felt like the right person no, but it really is probably better that I stay single and keep figuring my shit out. Think of somebody famous that you have a lot of respect for. What is something that you really admire them for? To name just one thing I admire in Mark, his relentless "I'm going to do this no matter what" attitude is very inspirational to me. He lets like... n-o-t-h-i-n-g get in his way. If somebody were to leave a harsh comment on a survey you took, judging you on one of your opinions, how would you react? I'd get pretty self-conscious, just because I in general take judgment quite poorly. I obsess over "what if they're right, and you're just an idiot?". Are there any other sites you use to find surveys to take? What sites do you use? I mainly use Tumblr and LiveJournal, but in times of great desperation, I'll use Bzoink and just google surveys as well, haha. Have you sent or received any friend requests on Facebook lately? Not sent, but I got one from someone I had no mutual friends with the other day. Safe to say I declined it. Can you recall the last time you turned down an offer, of any kind? Uhhhhh no. Which fruit would you say you eat the most often? Apples. What was your pet’s last vet visit concerning? Roman has been to the vet once to get neutered (and I think shots?). I took Venus many years ago because I thought she had a respiratory infection. Thank god, she didn't. Which animals do you tend to go check out first at pet stores? The reptiles, snakes in particular. Have you ever been a victim of a house fire? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever had to wait before being seated at a restaurant? Like, over an hour. Have you ever had a cavity before? How about a root canal? A tooth pulled? Braces? Cavities and braces, yes. What is your favorite zoo animal that you would like to set free? Probably polar bears. Like especially here, it gets so hot in the summer, and the poor things sometimes only have a bit of snow in the shade. Like... they can't be very happy. Especially when you see those videos of them playing in snow, and then you think about situations like our zoo here... ugh. What kinds of artifacts fascinate you? I really think old figurines built with like clay and stuff are cool. But all artifacts I find to be very intriguing. It's so interesting to see that the desire to create has always been with us as a species. Is there anyone that you’ve visited in jail? No.
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