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rainbows-fanfics · 3 years

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Our Nightmare (Chapter 12)

Summary: Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like living with The Pumpkin King.

A sequel to Two Dearest Friends, where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as they start to spend their deaths together.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel

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Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.

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“Sally?”

The name slips off his tongue as desperation lingers in his tone. His fiery pupils frantically search his proximity for the blue ragdoll, only to find no sight of her. This is when he drops his focus on scaring entirely. The flames and straw on his body vanish within thin air as he returns to his skeletal form. He rushes to the path where he last saw her, turning his skull quickly to search the area in despair. He’s using all of his senses at this point - intently listening for any sign of her.

He is interrupted by the sudden sound of a whimper. Almost as if someone is crying. Cautiously, he approaches the direction it came from all while concealing himself from nearby humans. This is when he finds a figure hunched behind a tree, cradling themselves in a fetal position while hiding their face. It doesn’t take him long to recognize this as his dearest friend, from her auburn hair to her blue, stitched skin. She doesn’t notice him when he finds her. The stitched smile on his lips falls as she continues to cry.

“...Sally?”

She makes a startled noise and jumps from her position. He pauses for a second, thinking she is relieved to find him - but that’s far from it! At the sight of the skeleton, she starts scooting away from him on the grass. This gesture pains him more than anything else. He takes a step closer, only to find her getting further. He eventually stops attempting to advance and places a worrying hand on his hip, leaning down to meet at her eye level. His face is sympathetic.

“What happened!? Are you alright? I thought I heard you scream, and I-”

“P-Pl-ease take me ba-ack….”

Her voice cracks as the sobs leave her mouth. This is when he feels an unbearable cold sensation in his ribs. It almost pains him as he slowly stands up and offers her his hand. She is hesitant to take it, and only does so to help her to her feet. She withdrawals her hand right away and Jack suddenly feels like his phantom heart is split into two. He says nothing as he starts leading them to the graveyard they came from - worryingly eying his dearest friend as he does so. He wishes he knew what to say at this moment.

“I…” He opens his mouth to say something but falls short. She doesn’t seem to be listening as it is, rubbing her arms constantly, looking everywhere else but him.

It isn’t long before they return to the Mayor’s currently unattended hearse. The ragdoll turns to him and mutters out her next words. “I-I think I need some time alone....”

He doesn’t want to leave her, but it doesn’t look like he has much of a choice. “....If you say so…”

She turns sharply towards the hearse and lets herself into the passenger seat, concealing her face after rolling the window up. Jack watches her speechlessly, slowly coming to the door to press his skull against it and listen. He can hear the same small cries from before. He feels his bones throb in pain the longer it ensues. He thinks of opening it up and inviting himself in - wishing to speak with her, asking what is wrong…but he doesn’t want to invade her privacy, as much as it hurts him otherwise. He sighs in reluctance before removing himself from the door.

He places a stressful hand on his head, beginning to pace in the graveyard. ‘She can’t take long…..I hope she doesn’t...I need to find out what’s going on…’

“Hey, Jack! How’s the scarin’ going?”

The Pumpkin King freezes into place after hearing a voice. He turns on his heel and finds other monsters approaching him with grins and howls. This is when he does something he’s become rather talented at - he puts up his usual front; the same one he used before, during stressful times like these.

“Just horrible, my fine gentleman!” He replies through a forced smile. “You should have seen how many humans I've frightened tonight..! How is it going for you all?”

“We’re having so much fun! Everyone’s on edge. It’s awful!” The Wolfman replies eagerly, smelling the fresh dirt in the air.

“Say, wasn’t Sally with you?” A ghoul inquires as he steps forward, looking around for the ragdoll. “Did she go somewhere?”

“Ah, yes -- she’s in the hearse, you see. She got tired from all the walking, so we headed in early. She needs to tighten her stitches, and all that.” He lies.

“Oh. Well, I hope she had a terrible time!” Harlequin comments. “Everyone always has a blast when they get to see the Pumpkin King scare!”

His lips twitch at that statement, realizing it was the opposite for her. They excuse themselves and leave the graveyard, disappearing back on the streets for another round of terror. The skeleton drops his act once they’re out of sight and bites his lip. His mind starts to fill with overwhelming thoughts - ones that bring anxiety to his bones, and an even worse feeling in his spine…he continues pacing in circles around the graves, much too disheartened at that moment.

He thinks about their evening. He’s noticed the look on her face every now and then - one of uncertainty and even anxiety after scaring his victims. He feels terrible for not recognizing the look then. He should have known something was amiss when she seemed hesitant watching him scare. Could she have been... petrified ? From only watching him perform? He may have gotten carried away during his fun - wanting to show her his full potential; what he truly can do, as the ‘ Master of Fright ’.

Now….he regrets ever doing it.

This is the first time Jack Skellington has ever felt indifferent after terrifying humans on Halloween. He usually feels spirited and alive, in a sense - wishing to sing and dance the rest of the night away, to celebrate a successful night with his fellow monsters and creatures. He has never known a feeling of regret when it comes to what he does so well. And such a thing only occurred because he scared the woman closest to him - someone he wants to keep protected, and far from harm’s way.

Is she afraid of him?

His gaze comes back to the hearse, whose walls she is hiding in at that moment. Away from him . His skeletal hands come and rest on his chest, shutting his eye sockets tightly as he slumps against a grave. He wants to return to Halloween Town. To retreat to the Skellington Manor, where he can properly speak with Sally and comfort her. To apologize for his actions and show her that he isn’t a threat. How could he ever be, to the woman he’s fallen in love with..?

He must have been sitting there for hours until he notices his residents arriving back. He puts on previous demeanor again to converse with them - leaving the impression that nothing is wrong. It feels unpleasant having to do this. It takes up so much of his energy, pretending to be happy around others...he isn’t proud to be doing this again. The skeleton sighs in relief when the Mayor finally makes his appearance, smiling proudly at the crowd before him.

“Terrible night, folks! Are we all ready to head back, now?”

He’s met with pleased nods and cheers. This is when he assembles everyone back in the hearse, guiding them inside while the Pumpkin King uncertainly approaches the passenger door. He taps on the window and patiently waits until it’s rolled down. Sally peers outside at him - wincing at his image, which emotionally takes another chunk out of his phantom heart.

“We’re going to return, now.” He whispers to her. “I hope we can talk once we’re back?”

Her eyes look away from him and to the floor.

They’re interrupted when the Mayor comes in from his side, grinning at the two and starting the vehicle back up. The tall man removes himself and hangs tightly onto its side, a frown settling on his skull. He keeps his head away from the others during their ride back, wishing not to be met with any smiles at that moment. He feels like a heavy burden is back on his shoulders, and he can’t shrug it off no matter how hard he tries…

-----

“Wheeee!” “What an AWFUL Halloween!” “How fun…!” “Can’t wait to do this again, Jack!”

The creatures hop off of the car and scurry away to their homes and streets, waving to the politician and skeleton as they go. The Mayor looks proud as he holds onto the side of his hat. The skeleton is wearing a forced smile on his face as he bids farewell, clutching his other hand tightly behind his frame. His friend assumes nothing is amiss when he turns to him and grins. He comes to open the door for Sally and assists her out.

Jack quickly arrives and offers her his arm. She takes it to help her down, but he notices her eyes are still elsewhere. He can feel her shaking when her body weight shifts onto him - her lip wobbling the longer they share contact. He excuses them from the Mayor, wishing him pleasant nightmares, before retreating to the Skellington Manor for the night. The moment they’re through the doors, he lets out an exhausted sigh.

He takes off his coat and hangs it on the rack. He turns around expectantly to find his ragdoll by his side - but he doesn’t get that sight. Instead, he finds her picking up Ophelia from her bed and retreating to her room. He becomes flustered as he attempts to chase after her, and catches her only a second before she’s about to close the door to her room. He stops her by holding it with his hand. She appears shocked at this gesture.

“Sally, please talk to me….it’s tearing me apart not to hear from you…”

She squeezes her eyes and the tears suddenly begin falling again. He goes to let himself in - wanting to open the door and sit on her bed, holding her tightly in his arms. But she fights back. This gesture surprises him so much that he lets go, and she takes this opportunity to close it. His jaw drops open as he stands there. He wastes no time trying for the doorknob again. It adds to his unfortunate luck that night that finds it locked. He knocks on the door a few times and places his hand on it firmly. He feels anguished and desperate as he attempts to get in, not wanting to be separated from her again. Not in any circumstance.

“My dearest, please ...I did not mean to…” He mutters into the wood, shutting his own sockets and feeling a stinging sensation in them. “You know I would never scare you…”

He hears her weeping from the other end of the door. Her voice weakly calls from the other side. “I’m sorry, Jack…go-good ni-night...”

He struggles with the doorknob another time until he hears her whimper again. Trying to impose himself like this must be scaring her even worse…! He unwillingly tears himself away from the door and retreats to his den, where he sits on the cushions in a troubled manner. He hides his face in his hands until he starts to feel a slight moistness. When he pulls back, he finds a few tears of his have fallen onto his fingers.

He wipes them away, shaking his skull in disbelief several times. He can’t believe it. He shouldn’t be crying...he hasn’t cried in years ! Not after he met Sally. He’s had no reason to be upset….not until now. He made a mistake without even realizing it, and now he’s paying the price.

He slumps back onto the couch and stares blankly at the unused hearth. His gaze comes to the walls - where he notices the photographs and pictures he has hanging in their frames. This is when a painful memory strikes him. That old photograph Sally once found….when she implored him about his scarecrow form - asking what it was, and wishing to know what it looked like….how he assured her then, that he would not impose any harm or fear to her. How he must have fallen back on his word since ….

He clenches his fists in his lap. He’s always been weary of this part of him...the true demon inside of himself - one granted with the ability of fire and true nightmares...he almost becomes a different person entirely on these nights, when he lets free the monster he turns into. In the past, he’s lost control and shook humans to their core - showing no mercy or hesitation in his screams. It thrives on the experience, the gratification of their fears….but even it couldn’t stop him from hearing Sally’s scream. He didn’t notice how far he went with his actions until they were looking right back at him in the face.

Would he have gone too far..?

He holds his skull in his hands again. No . He wouldn’t have scared Sally. He wouldn’t have laid a finger on her in any way but care….but then he remembers the look on her face. The scared part of her eyes when she looked at his pumpkin in its sockets. She’s always been afraid of it, hasn’t she? He unleashed its power right in front of her - he couldn’t blame her, running away like that...

“I shouldn’t have let it slip,” He mutters to himself. “I shouldn’t have used it at all… ”

There are many other ways he can scare. Just his skeletal being is terrifying enough to scare humans all night…! He got too cocky, too eager to impress….he swears at himself many times in his head, disbelieving how careless he’s been, and how he will make this up to her once she’s willing to see him again…

He thinks of the pain; the numbness in his bones and the tears that have fallen...he can’t imagine hurting her. He’d use every ounce of his willpower from stopping such a thing from happening. Her safety is his priority, first and foremost. He has to show her properly...to become the protective man he’s shown for years now. He’ll have to do that whenever she decides to open up…

He glances at the closed door in the hallway and sighs. He stands and drags himself up the stairs to his bedroom, where he meets with the sleeping form of Zero. He doesn’t address the dog as he prepares for the night. He’s sure he won’t even get a moment’s worth of sleep, and will instead lay there for hours, worrying about the woman of his death…

----

“JACK! What do you mean you’re not coming in? Today is the MOST important day of the year, besides * the * day!”

“I’m aware, Mayor...I need to take a personal day. Just this once, this year. I promise you.”

“But...BUT! How are we going to keep up, if you’re GONE? I’d have to spend my whole day covering your work, and-”

“-And I’m asking that as a favor, from my friend. I assure you, just this one time…”

“... Hurm… ”

The other voice sounds hesitant before the line is abruptly dropped. The skeleton winces as he pulls down the receiver and returns it to its proper place. His attention is on the floor, staring at the socks on his feet in silence. He has to take a personal day today. He can’t just leave Sally here by herself, in her catatonic state...it would hurt him even worse to hear she’s suffered without him here - or properly comfort her once the time is right. And he is willing to wait for that as long as it takes.

He glances at the door and finds it still closed from that night. He comes to it quietly and carefully tilts his skull on the surface. The room sounds completely silent. He fidgets with his shirt’s collar as he goes to the den once more, fetching a cup of his morning tea and sitting in his usual chair by the window. He glances outside and watches the skeletal birds go by, and his citizens walking through the plaza below. He feels peculiar not being out there by this time of day, but he pushes that concern aside as he firmly sits his pelvis down. He must wait for Sally. As long as it will take…!

Zero hovers down the stairs and gives his master a greeting with the wag of his tail. He retreats to the rug in the room and circles on it, shoving his head in his sheet. The dog eventually falls asleep shortly afterwards. Jack watches him do this curiously. As if on cue, his eyelids start to feel heavy. He shakes his skull in an attempt to keep himself awake. He got little sleep last night, what with all the fretting he’d done for hours. And waiting like this makes him feel rather…. fatigued…

His figure loosens in the chair as he slumps back, resting his skull on its soft cushion. His eyes eventually close and his head hangs to the side. He enjoys the peaceful silence of the Manor, instead of the bustling noises of the town hall. Everything will be alright….he was sure of it…

. . .

“Jack..?”

“Huh!”

The King jolts himself awake when a voice startles him from his sleep. He’s surprised to see the figure of Sally standing before him, uncertainly eying his figure. He sits straight up in his seat and goes to stand - but she motions him back down with a hand on his shoulder. He slowly returns to his prior position and looks at her in concern. Zero floats in the air beside her head, weakly nuzzling the side of his muzzle on her shoulder. She smiles at the creature and lightly kisses his head - a fortunate sign to him, as well.

“Sally..?” He mumbles as he wipes his socket. “You’re awake…and here…”

“Yes. I have a lot to apologize to you for…”

She stands there with little emotion, before completely scrunching up her face. Without warning, she reaches for him and leaps into his lap - holding him close and dangling her legs over the armrest. He doesn’t pause for a moment as he holds her by the waist and shoulders, to let her nestle her face into the crook of his neck. This moment is quiet, aside from the sounds of her soft cries. He pats her back repeatedly and brushes the strands of her yarn hair from her face.

He sighs in relief. “You have no idea how good it feels to hold you again.”

Her eyes shift downwards. “I missed you…I really wanted to be around you last night, but I-I just couldn’t…”

“Were you scared?” He asks quietly. It’s the most apparent question he wants out of the way. There is a pause before she nods slightly.

“I was.” She confesses in a whisper. “Seeing you frighten all of those people...it was exciting at first, but...I’ve just had this terrible feeling in my stomach that entire night. Like I was getting an image of something unpleasant happening. I think it had something to do with that scarecrow.”

“....”

“I used to read Finklestein’s books about premonitions. I never had one so strongly until that night. Just knowing what it can do...I felt scared. I shouldn’t have been, but-”

“I told you I become a different person when I use it.” He interrupts in defeat. “You said you possibly couldn’t be afraid…”

“Jack, do you think something... bad would have happened..?”

He falls silent at this question. After a few minutes, he hangs his skull low and averts his gaze. “I...didn’t realize it at first. Or at all, really. But I was starting to get in my own world - I didn’t realize how much I’d been scaring, or how intense it became. I used that scarecrow without thinking twice about it, and - I was very close to harming that man…”

“Would you have lost yourself?”

“I may just have, if you hadn’t stopped me in time.” He holds her tighter. Closer . “Thank you, Sally. I….I wouldn’t have hurt you. I’m sure of it.”

“I saw you pounce on him. There was a different look about you that... frightened me. It wasn’t the same way you scared those others. I didn’t recognize you. So, I screamed and I ran, because that’s what I felt was safest to do…”

Hearing this crushes him to his core. He’s holding onto her so tightly he can feel the pressure he’s applying on her seams. He loosens his grip to run a hand through her hair. This is when he begins to rock them both. Not only to calm her down, but himself as well…

“Sally, I am incredibly sorry you had to see me like that. I would never mean to do that. Sometimes I can’t control what I’m doing when I’m like that, and….it was rather irresponsible of me to put you in that position...”

She inhales his scent and relaxes her frame. How badly she missed this last night...she’d have asked for his company if she just felt safe in time. It was distressing to lock herself in that room, away from her love as she listened to him pound on that door...she cried in her hands for a long time. For separating herself from him like this...she didn’t want to do it at all ..! But hearing how close he was to losing his composure, maybe it was for the best that she acted in time…Not that he would ever hurt her….she refused to believe it…

“At least I got to see the master of fright in action,” She comments, more to herself. “I wanted to watch you, Jack. Despite knowing what could’ve happened.”

“That was a poor example. I should have never acted that way. Our rules -- we can’t hurt anyone, we’re not mean. And yet…”

“There’s no need to fret.” She holds his skull in her hands, looking at him in the sockets. “We’re both safe. You didn’t harm that man. And I feel more comfortable right now…”

He sighs once more, his breath warming her scalp. “Oh, Sally...I will never frighten you again. I won’t use that scarecrow for the rest of my death..! I swear by it!”

She remains quiet, resting her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed. He takes this time to rub her arms and brush his fingertips over her face. Her breathing starts to slow after awhile and she slumps in his grip. He rests her properly in his lap and wraps his arms around her waist, leaning back in the chair to get comfortable. She must have not gotten much sleep either - as she’d fallen to fatigue quite easily.

Jack relaxes as he rests with his love back in his arms again. He feels rather tired, too.

----

The barks of Zero and mews of Ophelia wake the Skellington Manor residents from their slumber. The pets are playfully chasing each other around, wishing to obtain the ball of yarn they’re fighting over. Sally rubs her eyes as she removes herself from Jack’s lap. He stands to crack his back as well as the rest of his bones. The animals move their struggle into the other room while the ragdoll and skeleton head to the kitchen. They’re both parched and hungry after these events and decide to settle in for some brunch together, while it is still somewhat early in the day.

Jack prepares their food and sits at the table, relaxing when he feels her small hand on his own. They eat their portion of eggs and drink from their glasses in comfortable silence. There’s plenty still on their minds, but they’re not fretting over it anymore. He’d rather move on from the unfortunate night and work on making things better.

Something comes to his mind. He stands from his seat and pushes it in, giving her a grin. “There is still something we’ve neglected to do…!”

“Oh?” She asks.

“We need to find a proper spot for your trophy, my dear..!”

With the same childish excitement, he rushes out of the room to grab her award from the safe spot he’s been keeping it in. He brushes off the slight dust collected on its rim before presenting it to Sally, who takes it uncertainly from his hands. Truth be told, where to put her trophy was the last thing on her mind lately….

“Where do you think it should go?” She asks him. He looks puzzled at this suggestion and tilts his head.

“That would depend where you want it…!”

“Hmm.”

She stares at her reflection in the cup and smiles when she reads her name on the placard. She still feels proud of an achievement like this. Just knowing it was from her friends and customers in town gave her butterflies in her stomach. She takes this moment to think before it dawns on her.

“It belongs where I earned it.” She tells him. “I’ll present it somewhere in my sewing shop..where everyone can see it.”

“Splendid idea! Let me grab my suit before we head out…”

He dismisses himself from the room to get properly dressed. She holds her trophy proudly in her hands as she waits for him by the door. She would think holding this from such a terrifying night would give her unsettling memories...but it doesn’t. She feels proud and almost happy, remembering why she earned it. And she’s sure everyone else will, too, seeing their gift to her presented right in her sewing shop…

----

Jack Skellington has a lot on his mind.

Spending an entire day away from Halloween Planning would usually give him the liberty to work on his projects or read some books on his shelves...but instead, he spends his time with her . He assists Sally to her sewing shop and helps her pick a place to present her trophy. Then he spends his time looking at her creations and listening to her future plans and projects, all while supporting her and offering his assistance. She even takes her responsible duties as his tailor and finally fixes the ends of his pants - previously torn by the times he’s had to catch her from that window…

When all is said and done, they retreat back to the Skellington Manor, where they spend even more time together. Sally insists on looking through their library and helping him organize a bit - picking out books she’d like to read and swapping for the ones she’d already finished. Then she helps him clean up his study, which takes a substantial amount of time in the afternoon. This part is demanding for the two of them, and by the time they’re done, they’re exhausted right as dusk is about to fall on them.

During the day, he can’t help but dwell over the other night. How she must have felt with what he put her through - and what’s come from that situation. Had he lost even an ounce of her trust after what he did..? She appears calm and comfortable in his presence again, but he still doubts himself. He wants to prove he can obtain her feelings in a more proper way - to make up for his irresponsibly putting her in potential danger. Someplace he can assure she’s safe, and the two of them can work on trusting each other…

...

…

After dinner, he thinks he knows the answer.

It’s one that makes his mind go jumbled and gives his body the jitters. It isn’t a new thought that’s never come across to him; he’s mused about it before, but repeatedly denied such action considering his gentlemanly side. But now he wants nothing more than getting closer to Sally. And doing this will most certainly do that, in a way that puts him in a position of closeness and trust. And that’s what he wants to share with her, after scaring her so far away from him.

She lounges in their den to let their supper digest. He opens a window to let in the cool, nightly air before joining her side. Zero and Ophelia observe the outside with curious eyes, resting on the window sill together. Jack presses his arm on the back of the couch as Sally closes in the space, resting her head on his chest and listening to the crickets and bats from outside. It’s a peaceful night compared to yesterday’s.

He waits several moments before mentioning anything. He takes this time wondering how exactly to bring this up. Slowly but confidently, he calls for her name. “Sal…?”

“Yes, Jack?”

“I haven’t been the best with your trust lately, considering what I’ve done.” He sighs sadly. “I want to make it up to you in any possible way I can.”

“Oh, but we’ve spent all day together..! You didn’t even work a minute today. Your attention is all I could ask for…”

“Yes, but...I’ve been thinking about it for an awfully long time, and - do you know the reason I gave you your own room?”

“So I could have my own space to work on the things I want.” She repeats sweetly. He nods along to her words.

“Exactly. But now you’ve got your own sewing shop in town...all of your dresses are there, your machines - of course there’s a couple here for you to work on, but now you’ve got all that empty space in your closet…”

She lifts her head to listen to him intently. She never thought twice about the space now - she just assumed she’ll use it for future things. Regardless - she’s curious on where this is going.

“Since there’s no need for such a big space anymore...why don’t you…” His words grow quiet. He grows frustrated at his own fumbling and has to force it out. “...Why don’t you share one with me?”

Her silence throws him back. He grows anxious with the look on her face. “..Share a room with you?” She repeats.

“Not just the room...it would mean the bed, too.” He tugs at his collar, finding himself hot. “I have such a big mattress I sleep on every night. There would be plenty of room for you.” She looks surprised at this suggestion. He elaborates. “--I think it’s a great opportunity to get your trust again. I can be there for you every night, and we can share the space together…”

“...But you would see me in my pajamas?” She blushes. He finds her coquetry adorable.

“I think that’s something we can get past together. You’ll see me in my own. That could even be tonight..! .”

She’s growing as red as a cherry at the suggestion of sleeping with Jack...seeing him in such clothes no one else does, reserved only in the hours of the night...the idea is appealing to her. She can’t deny how lonely it feels some nights. Even though Ophelia recently joins her slumber, she’s always felt like she’s been missing something…or some one . She is enamored by the idea of waking up next to Jack, sharing their ‘ good mornings ’ and even ending the day together. It sounds romantic the more she thinks about it.

‘This is the next step for couples, isn’t it?’ She blushes deeper at the thought.

“Y-Yes, Jack...we can do that…even tonight ?”

“I don’t see why not. There isn’t much to move from your room...we don’t even have to do that right now! We can worry about all that tomorrow, and sleep together now...”

Even he is growing timid with his words, struggling to get them out. It’s always a difficult feat, being a gentleman and wanting such... amorous things. He will still be chivalrous, of course - she can still have the privacy of changing on her own and dressing herself...but he wants to share closeness with her longer - throughout the entire night, in the arms of one other as they fall asleep…the thought makes him giddy, and treasure her presence even more.

“Okay, Jack...I trust you...I know this is good for us.” She tells him shyly. He leans in and leaves a kiss on her forehead, sending delightful tingles on her skin.

“-If you aren’t ready, Sally, just let me know...but I think, after all this time apart--”

“Of course I’m ready. I-I know about couples sleeping together...” She pokes her fingers together nervously. “I’ve always wanted to-to do that, with you...”

His eyes widen in delight. “Have you, now?”

She appears flustered and he chuckles, kissing her again before getting up and discarding their cups. She begins to panic wondering what it will be like to share a bed with Jack, and how his pajamas will look…and if hers will even compare…! Will she look ridiculous? Unattractive ? Sometimes her hair becomes a mess during the night, and she wakes up rather sluggish...that won’t deter him from his feelings for her, right?

She shakes her head realizing she’s overthinking it and takes a breath to calm herself down. He returns to the room after a minute, sitting next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She notices he brought a book with him, clenched tightly in his other hand. She reads the title and notices it’s a romance. She hums in curiosity, her previous thoughts forgotten from this distraction.

“Why don’t we read a story together..?” He suggests, opening to the starting page with his free hand. She sits up from her seat in delight - enjoying this suggestion spectacularly.

The man of her screams reads this story to her, about a young woman facing her fears and running away with a man she loves. His voice reads the text so soothingly, showing great emphasis and drama when needed. She melts at the sound the entire time, closing her eyes and picturing the story in her mind. She can’t ask for anything better but to be read to by her skeleton man, relaxing against his frame as the story goes on…

----

“Take your time; I’ll be in the room whenever you’re ready!”

His long hand cradles the side of her face as he leans in and leaves a kiss on her soft lips. She closes her eyes tightly and frowns when he pulls away. He gives her one last encouraging grin before disappearing into the room - closing the door slowly after him. She looks at the pajamas in her hands and chews on her lip. Now is the time. It’s finally happening…all she has to do is put on her clothes, and then follow him into the room…where she will be sleeping with him…

She feels herself shaking. She tries to stop herself. What does she have to be nervous about? He’s doing this to make it up to her - to make sure she feels safe and protected around him. She knows she will be; every time she’s in his embrace, she feels like she’s in a better world. He will always keep her close and loved - and she believes it. It’s not even the memory of the scarecrow that bothers her, but rather, the expectations she’s set in her mind....

Will she take up too much space? Wake too early? Or too late? She’ll have to try not to sleep with too many blankets. She doesn’t want to hog anything..! This is his space he's inviting her into, after all…! It sends her mind into a frenzy as she shuffles her feet, begrudgingly heading to the bathroom and dressing herself in there. She gets this done in a hurry, taking off her dress and easily slipping into her clothes.

She observes herself in the mirror above the sink. She’s moved on from the patchwork dress she used to wear in Finklestein’s Tower - wearing her new creations and dresses instead. But this is the only outfit that reminds her of it. It’s her old nightclothes she used to wear in that tower, sewn from the most comfortable scraps she could find. The different color of browns and beige look almost off-putting on her colorful figure. She starts to play with her hair nervously, not particularly impressed by the image reflecting back to her.

‘...I hope he doesn’t think less of me’.

----

The tall figure uncomfortably shuffles himself in the bed, eyes locked on the currently closed door. He doesn't want to miss Sally's appearance, whenever she decides to come in. He's more than patient waiting for her, understanding this is a drastic change from their usual routine, and that both of them will have to adjust to it. Even he feels somewhat nervous as he sits there, unsure of what to expect, finally sleeping with a woman by his side. The thought alone makes his shirt feel tight.

He's in his own pajamas, a light beige button-up with long sleeves, and equally long pants. He normally wears a night cap to bed, but decides against it for this night in particular. He drums his phalanges on his knee as he tries to pass the time with his thoughts. He glances over and notices his dog fast asleep in his small bed, with Ophelia close by his side. They look comfortable and unbothered together, after such short time of knowing each other.

'If the two of them can do it, then surely, Sally and I can, too...'

He's interrupted by the sound of the doorknob twisting. He sits up attentively as the sight of his beloved slowly comes into view. She modestly steps into the room and closes it behind her, moving her hair behind her shoulders. He's almost awestruck at the sight. To see her in such clothing, her eyes blinking temptingly at his own. She clasps her hands together before shyly advancing forward. This is when he realizes his mouth is agape.

He shuts it and smiles apologetically. "My dear...you look lovely..."

She turns her head to the side, flushed at his words. "You think so..?"

"Absolutely! Why, I - I have never seen you like this...it is..." He struggles to think of a word. "It feels like a privilege..!"

Her eyes travel down to his own body and she hides her smile with her hand. She notices the empty spot on the mattress and assumes that's where she's wanted. She slowly makes her way around the bed and into the covers, all while avoiding Jack's face. When she's properly inside, there's only a few inches between her and the skeleton. This causes her phantom heart to thud rapidly, and a whole bunch of other thoughts come flooding into her mind.

"We'll start moving your things in here tomorrow. I'll clear some space in the morning," He continues casually.

She nods along with him - unsure of what to say or do. She's never shared a bed with anybody, nor does she know what's supposed to happen after this. Whatever it is, it makes her feel small and rather hot, bunching her legs together and watching him out of the corner of her eye. He leans forward to leave a kiss on her cheek, which calms her slightly.

"Are you comfortable?" He asks. She nods right away.

"Yes..! Your mattress is so soft, and the pillow is too. This blanket is warm and comfortable..."

"I'm glad you like it." He sounds relieved. "You can have as much space as you'd like...I don't take much room, as you can tell..."

She feels embarrassed for forgetting about his thin stature. So there is no way she can possibly hog the bed...That makes her feel better, at least. She tucks her hair out of the way as she looks around his bedroom. She notices how dark it is, only illuminated by a set of candles on his nightstand and moonlight from the only open window in the room. She can make out the silhouettes of a few dressers and closets, but nothing else at that moment.

"...Sorry if I seem... shy ." She finally confesses, tugging at her fingers. "I just feel a little insecure about my clothes..."

"If you feel that way, why haven't you made yourself some new ones?" He questions curiously. She looks down at her chest and sighs.

"I didn't think I would be sleeping with you...or anyone at all. I've been wearing these ever since I've been created. I never thought anyone would see me in them. But now that you have - I feel embarrassed..."

"-No reason to be, my love." He takes her hand and kisses it tenderly. "It doesn't matter what you wear - you're always going to be gorgeous in my eyes. Or lack thereof." He chuckles at that last sentence, and she smiles. "--Why, you look beautiful even wearing this..!"

She feels better and relaxes her posture. He motions for her to get comfortable and she does so, laying on her side of the bed and pulling the blanket over her figure. She watches as he blows out the candles, effectively darkening the room beyond the small portion of light coming from the window. He shuffles on the bed - finding the most comfortable position. She feels almost intimidated to move around, but she does so slightly, facing his direction.

It isn't long before she feels his arms come around her figure, holding her close to himself. She finds herself facing his chest and relaxes at the contact. It feels almost natural...being this close to him. It's the most relaxed she's ever felt. Sally eventually closes her eyes and steadies her breathing - falling fast asleep in the contact of her lover. Jack finds himself easily succumbing to his slumber as well - relishing this closeness with her, wanting to keep her safe.

#long post #long #the nightmare before christmas #jack and sally #jack x sally #fanfiction #our nightmare #tnbc #nightmare before christmas #tim burton #fanfic

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Broken Me...

CH. 1

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunatley have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Cheating Danneel, Depressed Jensen, Emotionally hurt Jensen, Language, I think that’s it...

pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1797

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Jensen pov:

"Yeah I'm well aware this is partly my fault Danneel there's no reason to drive the point home, but I wasn't the one fucking one of my employees was I?"

Jensen was reeling, he couldn’t believe this was happening, he couldn’t believe what he had seen, it all felt just, not real...Like some strange out of body experience or nightmare that he just couldn’t wake up from..

Then as if to add insult to injury, here she was on the phone with him, trying to make it out like this was all HIS fault...

Like he was the one bouncing on the dudes dick when she came home from work, and not the other way around.

He just wanted to see his family, his kids, his wife, maybe even play with the God damn dog a little before leaving for the hotel before the convention started tonight. You would have never convinced him of what he was going to find when he walked through that front door the way he did today, not in a million years.

The raw and unforgiving reality of it though was that it was real, he saw it with his own eyes, and just like that, his marriage was over. It was almost too much for him to take all at once, and the longer he heard her make one excuse right after the other to try and play the victim, instead of the cheating whore that she was, the more angry he got...

"All that time I was gone you weren't the only one that was lonely!! You weren't the only one who wanted to be close to someone!! I WANTED TO BE CLOSE TO YOU!! I HAD MY DAMN PICK OF ANYONE I WANTED!! I SPENT WEEKS PLANNING THIS TRIP SO I CAN HAVE JUST A FEW HOURS WITH YOU!! I'M DONE DANNEEL WE'RE DONE!!"

Hanging up the phone before he could say anything he might regret, or anything she might be able to use against him in court, Jensen threw his phone across the room onto the hotel bed and shoved his hands into his hair, trying to get a hold of his frustration.

He started trying to talk it out with her, he really did, but the longer he was on the phone with her, the more his temper got the best of him. By the time he got off the phone with her, his face was red, and he had a knot in his stomach that made him feel like he wanted to vomit, and he was pretty sure that his blood pressure was at stroke level the whole time driving from Austin to Dallas…

He only had about three hours to get myself together before the rest of the cast and crew would arrive to get their rooms, and start the convention…

He was supposed to perform tonight for the Saturday nights special like he always did… So he had to get himself together before that started, and he had to take the stage in front of all those fans..

Thank God the hotel staff let him check in early. So he didn’t have to go to his parents to face them, or drive around Dallas for three hours because he was in no shape to be driving around right now.

Jensen didn’t have time to get drunk before the show tonight, or to sober up in time for it to start anyway, so he paced around his room trying to control his rapidly beating heart rate. Because right now he either felt like he was having a heart attack, panic attack, or both…

His mind was reeling with questions.

“How could she do this to me? I made sure she wanted for nothing. I loved and supported her the only way I could. I don't understand why she did this. I was faithful, even when I had every opportunity not to be I was faithful. This isn’t fair. Did she ever love me at all?”

A knock on the door disturbs him from my thoughts, and he glared at it a moment, thinking about ignoring it until he heard Jared yelling through the door.

"Hey J!! Are you there? I got here a little early, and they said downstairs that you were already here!! Let's get a drink before everyone else gets here!!"

A drink did sound pretty good, and if there was any he trusted it was Jared. He'd known Jensen the at his worst, and at his best, and he was always there when he needed him.

He had a right to know what happened.

Jensen grabbed his hat and shades before walking to the door, leaving his phone on the bed, he didn’t want to talk to Danneel anymore, he’d said everything he had to say, and if anyone wanted to find him that bad they usually called Jared.

Steading his nerves before he opened the door to join Jared for drinks he couldn’t help but feel like this was going to be a long convention.

.....................................

Your POV:

"Come on Y/n!! Put that damn guitar down!! The concert starts in one hour, and I want a good seat!!" Y/f/n yells at you from the hotel bathroom.

Rolling your eyes you sit your guitar back into its case, and put it in the closet so that housekeeping or whatever wouldn’t just see it laying around and take it.

It was your most prized possessions...

Music was your life...

It's what kept you going, what got you out of bed in the morning, and the last thing you thought about before you went to bed at night.

Most importantly it was there for you when no one else was… That much you had learned the hard way…

"Don't you think getting there an hour early is a little extreme?" You complain, turning around and checking your makeup in the mirror and grabbing your phone, and slipping it into your back pocket.

"Look you have no idea how crazy these people are that come to these cons, and I want to be so close to the stage I get sprayed with spit when Rob starts to sing." She says matter of factly, pulling her purse over her shoulder, and meeting you by the front door.

"Yeah because that's what a totally sane person would say about their seating arrangements." You mumble, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as you open the door.

The girl had it bad for Rob, which honestly was a nice chance, most girls were here for Jared, Jensen, or Misha..

You were more interested in seeing Jensen tonight yourself. The way his voice washed over you when he sang! Ugh there's nothing else in this world like it. It always rolled over you like honey, but burned slow, like a shot of the best top shelf whisky..The man wasn't human.

He was a damn God, and deserves to be treated as such.

The two of you rode the elevator to the first floor laughing, and talking about music. There were two guys in the elevator when you two got on, but you didn’t really pay them any mind. One of them smelled like he'd had more than one drink, and they both seemed to be trying to blend into the back wall of the elevator, not wanting to talk to the two of you.

"If they call for a fan to come up on stage tonight you should totally go sing with Jensen." She said, elbowing you in the ribs. Eating herself the best bitchface you could muster.

"No way dude, I'd never get past the first line. I'd freak out, and make myself look like a complete, and total idiot.."

The shorter one of the men in the elevator smirked at the ground at your conversation. There was something familiar about that smirk........

You were about to tell him it was rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, when your friend spoke up again..

"Come on Y/n for my birthday PLEASE!!" She begged, giving you puppy dog eyes worthy of Sam Winchester.

"No way. He's not gonna want to sing with someone like me.” You say, trying to brush her off..

“What would you even want us to sing?"

The two of you exited the elevator, and you had all but forgotten about the two men following you just in ear shot.

"Hmm.... I don't Know........ How about.... Picture, by kid rock and Sheryl Crow." She said, all but bouncing as you joined the already forming line outside the doors leading into the hall where they were about to have the concert.

She loved that song, even though it was overplayed and overdone.

"That song is so damn old Google probably can't even find the lyrics to it anymore." You tease her.

She just rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at you.

“It’s my birthday, so I pick the song! I didn’t say you’d have to like it”

The doors were opened before long, and the two of you made your way through the doors into the large room the concert was being held in. Leaving early had paid off. You were center stage, front row. Thanks to your friend’s media pass and gold tickets too, but you weren’t going to point that out.

Y/f/n was jumping up and down in her seat with excitement, and you just couldn’t burst her bubble.

"Did you see those two guys that were in the elevator with us?" You asked, as the two of you watched the other fans filter into the room.

The smile that one guy did sure did look familiar. You wished you could have gotten a better look at his face better, but they were both wearing shades and ball caps; keeping their heads down like they didn’t want to be bothered, and you didn’t want to stare at them, and make them feel uncomfortable..

"Yeah I saw them, probably just two dudes here with their girlfriends." she says shrugging you off as she sets up her camera for tonight. You don’t know why you cared so much, not like it mattered anyway who they were, or why they were here, there were a lot of strange people that went to these conventions, and they probably were here with their girlfriends, but still that smirk…

You shoved the thought of the two strangers in the elevator aside, you were about to see “The Jensen Ackles” sing. Honestly if you could have known you were going to die when he walked off stage.

You'd die happy.

Just cause you were that close to that beautifully sculpted, almost inhuman body, and voice that could melt you like butter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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Binge Tag:

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut #hurt!jensen #suicidal fic #dark fic #hurt!comfort fic #spn fanfiction #spn fic #x reader inserts #jawritter

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stressedoutteenager · 3 years

Text

with all the new info we got about the netflix adaption of the grishaverse, I felt more motivated to write something and recently wrote something about Kaz realizing - because Inej explains to him - that he should show more appreciation towards his friends, particularly Jesper

If you want to read on AO3: here’s the link

Say Thank You

“Would it kill you to say thank you for once, to let him know he’s appreciated?”, Inej says as soon as the door to Kaz’s office falls shut.

She hears Kaz wince quietly while she rummages through his desk drawers for anything that would help her clean his wounds. She’s been back from her latest voyage for almost a week. It had been a successful one and coming back to Ketterdam, she felt proud and accomplished.

Kaz could tell as soon as he saw her. She was glowing.

Several days passed peacefully, while she got to reconnect with her friends. They did all send letters but as correspondence is not regular when one is on the seas and at different coasts each day, catching up in person is much more fun and rewarding. Several peaceful days had passed, indeed, until somebody tried to break into Wylan and Jesper’s home. It is common knowledge that their home is constantly under security. And most people know not to mess with Dirty Hands, the Barrel Boss, and his associates. Some might even say his friends. Yet, somebody was stupid enough to do so. Maybe, stupid. Maybe, reckless. Maybe, brave.

Luckly, the intruders seemed to be only there to gather intel. They got scared off by Kaz and Inej arriving at their friends’ house. Instantly, the couple inside, that had not noticed anything going on outside, was interrogated about possible enemies. It could have been someone trying to break in to steal from their big fortune, but that thought was dismissed quickly. Doing that would be stupid and nothing else. However, this attempted break-in seemed to be only the start of it. Threats kept coming; break-ins at the Crow Club, vandalism at the Slat, cheating and brawls while gambling.

Kaz didn’t want his friends to be involved again, not after they left the Dregs behind - for the most part. Wylan is still in contact with Kaz for business and Jesper supports Kaz’s businesses in various ways when he can. But, they don’t interfere with the Dregs’ dirty business. Inej on the other hand… whenever she’s back in Ketterdam, she’ll share anything she finds valuable with Kaz. She would have never dreamed that she’d miss the dirty, crooked rooftops of Ketterdam and yet... she can never resist to jump from roof to roof like she’s flying. Those familiar, light steps of Inej’s always itched to be up above everyone else where she could blend into the shadows and listen. And listen she did. - An unknown but surprisingly quick and efficient working gang was targeting the Crows.

Kaz made a plan and his former crew members inserted themselves in it. Despite Kaz’s refusal at first, they did not relent.

But, things suddenly went south. Kaz was struck by a flying knife, none of his crew saw coming. Not even Inej, which she still feels horrible about. And then, chaos broke loose. It all happened so very fast, they were ambushed. Still, after all these years Kaz, Wylan, Jesper, and Inej can read each other’s expressions and can communicate wordlessly and accomplished to come out of the unplanned, unexpected brawl victorious.

Now, as Inej turns around, Kaz has rid himself of his jacket. His shirt is ripped, quite a big patch is red. Kaz only looks at Inej while crossing the room until he’s stood right next to her. Leaning on his desk, he takes the cotton ball from Inej’s hand.

“He didn’t have to join me.”, Kaz simply says.

Inej’s eyes wander over Kaz’s face, down his body to his torso. The red patch is still getting bigger. And Kaz is not doing anything about it. Inej steps closer, meets Kaz’s gaze and waits. A couple moments all he does is stare right back. His jaw set, eyes trained on the girl in front of him that didn’t think twice before exchanging her captain’s hat for her scaling shoes when she noticed it might be useful. Useful to Kaz.

Finally, he nods and she starts unbuttoning his shirt slowly. She takes care to not touch his skin, pulling the shirt away from him, towards herself, while taking one button at a time. When his shirt is finally completely open and pushed off his shoulders, the deep stab wound on his abdomen is on full display.

“Apply pressure.”, Inej instructs him as she hands him a towel and takes the cotton ball back. He doesn’t make a sound but Inej can feel his quick breath on her cheek. He's hurting. She does not want to make him more uncomfortable than he already is and pays attention to not touch him with her fingers. The cotton ball is now pinched between her fingers. “Neither of us had to. We wanted to. And if it weren’t for Jesper there, you’d be in much more pain than you are now.”, she lifts her head to look at Kaz and only when he meets her eyes, she adds, “Or dead.”

There’s no movement in his face. His eyes stay on Inej, when he says:“I can handle myself.”

“Sure. You’re the Bastard of the Barrel .”, Inej says through her teeth. She tells him to lift the towel and cleans as much of the blood as she can before taking a step back to get the bandages. She had seen them in the drawer at his desk. She goes back to stand in front of Kaz and cuts up the bandage into the right sizes.

“I know you’re trying. I can see it.”, she says, not meeting his gaze. They both know what she means. It is not a secret that Kaz goes to meet Jesper and Wylan regularly. Most people think it’s on business and yes, sometimes it is, but mainly, it is a pretense. Still having her eyes only on the bandages, she continues: “But sometimes it’s not enough. If Jesper weren’t there today, if he hadn’t used his power, you’d be injured so much worse.”

Positioning a bandage on his wound that is still bleeding, she continues to speak while applying more pressure than is needed: “And forget saying thank you, you barely glanced in his direction afterwards and gave Wylan the instructions on how to keep their home safe.”

“I..”, Kaz starts to talk but stops as soon as Inej leans closer to wrap a thin piece of towel to keep the bandage in place. She hovers so closely that he can smell the flowery smell in her hair, even through the dust and dirt of the brawl not even hours ago.

Inej mutters: “You can’t just always assume everyone around you knows what you think.”

She’s done with the big wound and steps back. To give him a break. And to be able to see his reactions to what she’s saying. Kaz smirks lightly when saying: “They are not supposed to.”, but that doesn’t impress Inej one bit.

“But your friend should. Your friend should know that you’re grateful for his help. That you appreciate them. Especially when they are this close to you and when they see you as family.”, Inej says, arms crossed over her chest but her tone of voice softer than before.

The adrenaline is only now wearing off and the fear that Kaz might be hurt badly is growing calmer.

Inej can see how much Jesper means to Kaz. And deep down, Jesper knows that, too. But he should not have to settle for only that.

Kaz does not say anything, does not show anything in his eyes. Inej shakes her head and turns around to put away everything she did not use and she can hear Kaz limping towards the trunk near the door, where he keeps spare clothes. While worrying about his stab wound, neither had thought about his leg. She hears Kaz wince before she even turns around and can see him struggling to put his shirt on. Inej closes the distance in quick, quiet steps and helps him wordlessly. She then continues to button it up.

“Thank you.”, Kaz says and Inej can feel his eyes on her. She doesn’t look up until she has buttoned up every button. That she can hide her small smile that way helps too. She is incredibly happy that he opens up more to her now than he ever did. Emotionally and physically, verbally or with his looks. She’s proud of his progress. And still, her point from before stands.

“You’re welcome.”, she says, finally looking at him and finds him looking at her with a small smile. She tries to school her features but it is too late. He saw the effect of that small smile. No matter how much older she is now and how many threats and problems she has faced by now with a straight face, Kaz still has the annoyingly exciting influence on her as if she’s still 16.

Kaz takes a deep breath without moving an inch away from Inej and says: “I have some immediate business to take care of. But in the morning I’ll go check up on Wylan and Jepser.”

“Good.”, Inej answers and allows herself to finally smile at him. His eyes focus on her lips drawn upwards; his hand itches to drag her closer. “I’ll accompany you.”

Kaz’s first instinct is to refuse. Out of habit. Even though he would like her to stay at the Slat with him. Even though they both know he might need a second pair of eyes when walking through Ketterdam the next morning. He bites his tongue and nods.

He takes out the key to his room from his pocket and hands it to her: “You’ll be least disturbed there. I’m going to send some of my people to take care of the remainder of today’s business.”

The next morning, a message boy arrives at the Slat, asking for a message to be given to Mr. Brekker, who had already left to go check up on the person who sent the message, inviting him to Breakfast.

Jesper is the one to open the door and is surprised at the speed at which his friends arrived but doesn’t comment on it. He lets them in and locks the door behind them. Inej greets her friend and continues towards the kitchen where an off-key singing Wylan can be heard. Jesper makes a move to join her but Kaz calls him back: “Jesper, a moment please.” Inej hears Kaz and knows she shouldn’t be as proud as she is. This should be a given. Still.

“Everything okay?”, Jesper asks, looking Kaz up and down.

Kaz sets his cane aside and nods. “Yes.”, and then does not know how to continue. Inej had said he should let his friends who see him as family know that he appreciates him. But that’s the problem. Jesper is like a brother to Kaz. It makes it harder to express his thoughts, not easier.

“Okay..”, Jesper says, a little suspicious.

“Just…”, Kaz continues and straightens his back and looks at Jesper properly. “Thank you… for your help yesterday.”

Jesper needs a moment to process what Kaz said, but then opts to play it off. He shrugs and waves it off: “Sure, no problem. It’s nothing.”

Kaz is tempted to let it go now. He said thank you. But he knows that once again Inej is right. “No, it’s not nothing. Without you there yesterday, I might have scarcely come out of the attack.”

He is looking Jesper in the eyes but is not showing anything more than his usual stoic gaze. And yet, Jesper knows Kaz means it. To that, he smiles and instantly wants to hug Kaz but knows better. Instead he nods, smiling, and tries not to beam.

They turn to go join the others in the kitchen, but Jesper’s step falters when Kaz adds: “But don’t ever put yourself in danger for me again.”

Kaz does not stop, he passes his friend and thinks, he does not want another brother dying before him.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #crooked kingdom

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

I was just playing the mission where they clear out beaver hallow and it made me want to request something where healthy! Arthur rescues a reader in the cave and the aftermath where they fall in love and what not 👀😬🥰 pretty please

Yay, I was so happy to write this one! So happy I went and wrote like 13 pages 🙄 Anyways, enjoy.

Warnings: blood, gore, witnessed rape, but I make it up with a lot of fluff!

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Cold. That’s all you feel. Physically, mentally, emotionally. The entire world has grown cold. How can you believe in warmth and light and love or kindness in a place like this? You’re surrounded by constant darkness, only occasionally broken up by the firelight of torches, hidden somewhere around the bend of the giant pillar holding the ceiling of this massive cavern. If only you could leave, but you’re trapped in this steel cage, the door bound tightly shut by thick ropes.

It’s impossible to say how long you’ve been here. There’s no way for you to tell between night and day, and therefore you haven’t been able to count. It feels like an eternity though. All the others you were with, your brother and his horrible wife and spoiled daughter, they’re all dead. Why you were spared by these murderers is a mystery. Maybe because you were the only grown woman who showed no signs of being spoilt by another man, maybe it was just a random choice.

Not that the others in your caravan were killed immediately. Some of them were, sure, shot down by the rifles in the Murfree’s hands, like your brother for instance. He hadn’t even seen them coming before those men put a bullet in his skull. You, the other women and a few of the men were bound and dragged to their cavern while a few stayed behind to butcher the others. If only their screams were the only ones you heard.

After being dragged into the cavern, the Murfrees took the three of the four men left alive and began to attack them, cutting off bits and pieces of them, gutting one and skinning the other. It was bad enough to hear and see what was happening, but then you watched, held down by a Murfrees boot, as your sister-in-law was stripped, raped and then cut into pieces. Her massacred torso was shoved onto a spike, a warning to travelers of what was waiting for them. She was an evil, horrible person, but she didn’t deserve that.

You and your niece were two of the four left alive. Another woman and the last man were dragged inside. All the women, including your niece, were thrown into this cage while the man was taken somewhere else, apparently meant to be tortured slowly. There was no rhyme or reason to this savage attack, but as time passed and you picked up bits and pieces of the Murfrees talking, you gathered that they viewed this area as their territory and would defend it however they deemed fit, and that was through extreme violence and foul savagery.

As the days passed, though you could not count them for lack of light, the Murfrees began to prey upon the other two women in the cage with you. They picked the oldest one first, dragging her out, shearing her hair off, raping her. Apparently she was too old for their taste and they killed her only a few hours later.

Your niece, though spoiled rotten and one of the worst people you’ve ever known, you would never wish any of this on her. They picked her next. They dragged her from the cage, strapped her to a rack and left her naked. Every once in a while, some of them would gather around her, rape her, cut her, whip her. Her screams were the worst as she was little more than a child. YOu were glad she didn’t last long. But her death meant that it was your turn.

However, the Murfrees haven’t done anything just yet. They’ve come up to the cage, rattled the bars, screamed all sorts of horrible things at you, stuck in their hands to try and grab you, but they haven’t done anything. It’s clear why. This waiting, the anticipation for the inevitable horrors lying ahead for you, is a form of torture. And torture it is. You wished they’d just kill you already.

It’s impossible to say how many tears you’ve shed. Your throat is cracked, dry and painful from the lack of water and the hours you’ve spent screaming for help. Your captors haven’t bothered to offer you food or water, but that’s the last thing you’re worried about. You know they’re capable of far, far worse.

Your niece must have died days ago. They still haven’t bothered to remove her corpse from the rack on the other side of the cavern from your cage. The smell of this place is choking. The stench of her decay, and the decay of other rotting bodies, overwhelms you. That mixed with urine and feces threatens to make you vomit what very little nourishment is left in your stomach.

At one point, a Murfree walks past your cage. You look out with a tear-stained face. “Kill me, please!” you beg.

He just chuckles, showing rotten teeth. “Oh not so fast there, little girl. Your friends died way too quickly. We plan on making you last a while.”

You try to make him angry, to spur him to kill you, but he doesn’t fall for it. You try everything you can think of, but nothing comes of it. They’ve left you in nothing but your underclothes. If you weren’t already so terrified of them raping you and leaving your naked body on display, you’d strip yourself out of your chemise and hang yourself. As time goes on though, that idea becomes more and more appealing. How much longer can you last?

Finally the cave falls silent. There hasn’t been any screams for some time, all their other victims must be dead or incapacitated. The Murfrees are quiet too. Maybe they’re sleeping, or out scouting for fresh blood. This gives you the opportunity to lay on the back wall of the cage that’s right against the pillar, meaning no one can grab you through the bars. Despite the fear and pain in your bruised body, you manage to fall into a light sleep.

Suddenly someone screams out, jerking you awake. It isn’t the scream of someone getting tortured or murdered. There’s words in them.

“Someone’s in the cave!” it says.

You stand up, your heart in your throat. A gunshot echoes through the cavern making you jump out of your skin, and it’s followed by more screams. Murfrees begin to swarm towards the gunshots, screaming and calling out threats. They’re armed with machetes and guns of their own.

After several minutes, the air finally falls silent. Then the face of a man comes into view. You’ve never seen him before. His intelligent eyes glitter from a dark face and he calls behind him.

“There’s someone alive, she’s in a cage.”

All you can think of is that they’re new captors, and that they’re just as bad or possibly worse than the Murfrees. A whimper escapes your lips as you try clinging to the back wall of the cage, looking for somewhere to hide.

The man comes back into view, followed by another man. He wears a leather hat and he slings a gun to his back before approaching.

“S-stay away from me!” you yell out, your voice surprisingly strong.

“It’s okay, we’re here to help,” the white man says. He gets close to the door, despite you pleading for him to leave and then pulls out a knife. You begin screaming, your legs turning to jelly as you sink to the ground in the corner. This is it. You’re going to have a number of unspeakable things done to you and then you’re going to die.

“Shhh, we ain’t gonna hurt ya,” says the man, quickly cutting through the rope that locks your door. He sheaths it immediately and holds his arms up. His voice is soft and gentle.

“Easy, easy. We’re here to help.”

“Please leave me alone,” you sob. Your hands are over your ears as tears sting your eyes. He’s getting closer, causing your heart to beat painfully. Your head drops to your knees so you don’t have to see him anymore, hoping he’ll go away.

Something gently touches your shoulder, but you flinch as though stung. It touches you a little harder, but there’s no pain to it. When you uncover your eyes, you see it’s his hand. Blue eyes meet yours and he talks gently again.

“It’s okay. I’m here to help ya. Gonna get you home.” He slowly gets closer, enveloping his arms around you. Despite your intense fear, you lean into him, burying your face into his chest. He smells good, but that’s in comparison to the foul stench of the cave. Heat emanates from him, allowing you to escape from the cold, and you shiver.

“A’right, let’s get ya outta here.” The man stands up, but you cling to him, suddenly afraid of his absence. Contrary to what you believed a few moments ago, this man represents safety, light, warmth and hope. You cling to his hand, sticking close as he begins walking through the cavern, accompanied by the other man you first saw.

“So, where you from?” your hero asks.

“Valentine. But… but… I don’t…” You blanch as you see the fresh corpses of the Murfrees spread around.

“It’s okay,” he says, squeezing your hand. “They’re all dead. You’re safe.”

You swallow, your lower lip trembling, sticking closer to him as you both walk towards the mouth of the cave. Your feet scrape against the cold rock and small bones of animals that are strewn about. Light hits your eyes suddenly, harsh and painful, causing you to wince. After a moment, you adjust to it and look around the uncomfortably familiar clearing, littered with bodies and broken bits of wagons. You avoid looking at the pike holding what’s left of your sister-in-law.

Your hero stands next to a horse and he looks back at you. “You okay to ride a little? I’ll take ya home.”

You begin shivering and then break into tears, crumpling to the ground. “My family…. There’s…. There’s no one left.”

The man walks over and gently picks you up so you’re standing. He offers himself as a support for you and you lean into him, wishing this was all nothing more than a horrible nightmare.

“You sayin’ you ain’t got a family no more?” he asks softly.

You nod into his shirt. “They’re gone. They’re gone.”

“Well… ya can’t stay here. Let me take ya home, then you can figure out what ya wanna do.”

Slowly, he lifts you onto his horse and then climbs on in front. You cling to him as though your very life depends on it, which it partially does. He bids his companion farewell and then kicks his horse into an easy gallop.

“You okay, miss?” he asks after a few moments.

“They’re… they’re animals!” you say with a harsh sob.

“I know, but you’re safe now.”

“I haven’t slept in days! My family, they killed them!” You bury your head into his back and cry, exhaustion ripping through you. The weight of the last few days is finally slamming into you. All you want to do is curl up and sleep, never to wake up again. Part of you wishes this man would take pity on you and just put a bullet in your head. It would be easier. But amidst your crying, you don’t have the strength to ask him.

He rides on, giving you encouragement every once in a while. When he passes O’Creagh’s Run, you guide him to your cabin, which isn’t too much farther away. Once there, he helps you down from his horse and you stare at the cabin miserably.

This cabin, you thought it had been hell before. After your parents died, you had nowhere to go but your brother’s, with his horrible wife and worse daughter, all of whom are now dead. If you’d had the money, you would’ve left a long time ago. Then, your brother got a job in Boston, which was why you were caravaning up to Annesburg, to board the train and go there. That is what led to you ending up in the Murfree’s clutches.

The cabin lies cold and empty now. Your hero walks up to it with you and you open the door, finding the very little furniture that was left behind, including your rickety bed but it has no blankets. Only the lumpy mattress you slept on. The man looks around, clearly worried about your predicament.

“You sure there ain’t no where else I can take ya, ma’am?”

You shake your head. “I don’t h-have anyone else, mister.”

He sighs and nods, then goes to his horse where he pulls off his bedroll. He hands it to you. “Here. I know it ain’t much, but sounds like you need something warm to sleep in. You gonna be okay?”

Your lip is trembling again and more tears are swelling up, but you nod. He looks at you, his eyes saying he doesn’t believe you.

“Here, why don’t you lay down, try gettin’ some rest. I’ll um, see if I can cook you somethin’ to eat.”

You’re so tired and confused that you can do nothing else but obey him. He sprawls his bedroll on the old mattress and you climb into it. All you want to do is fall asleep now that you’re warm and protected by this stranger, but the memories and the screams come back to you, preventing you from doing so. Soon, the smell of cooking meat fills the cabin and you look up.

“I got some venison cookin’ up for ya.”

The thought of eating any kind of meat, after the things you witnessed, makes you want to gag. He sees your green face.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“I… I can’t eat that. Not…. not like this. Not now.”

Realization dawns on his face. “That’s a’right, I’ll eat it later. Well here, I got some beans, canned fruit. Here, got this too.”

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a chocolate bar and hands it to you. Despite having not eaten in days, you’re really not hungry. You take the candy and just hold it, sniffing lightly. You hear him sigh and then he drags the one chair left in the house over to you, sitting down so he can look at you.

“Ma’am, I know you seen some bad things back there. I know those bastards killed your family. I’m real sorry, about all that. But… well, you’d make me feel a lot better if you’d eat somethin’.”

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you open the chocolate up and take a bite, though you don’t really taste it. He pats your knee, making you flinch.

“What’s your name?”

You tell him and he nods. “Arthur. Arthur Morgan. You, uh, you gonna be okay here?”

You just shrug your shoulders. Although you’ve no appetite, you’re starting to feel better now that your stomach has something in it. When you’re finished eating, Arthur offers you some peaches but you deny them. You really don’t think you can handle any more food. Instead, you lay down to try and get some sleep. Arthur stands up and begins heading for the door.

“Wait,” you say, your voice shaking. “Arthur, will… will you stay with me? At least until I… I’m not awake anymore?”

He turns and looks at you. It’s obvious from his face he’s got something heavy weighing on his mind, but he nods and sits back down in the chair. “Sure. Guess I can do that.”

You lay back down, your eyes unable to close for fear of seeing the horrors you witnessed. You can’t stand to watch your family get butchered again, hear their screams. Arthur pulls out an old journal from his satchel and begins scratching at a page with his pencil. The sound, and the exhaustion, finally lulls you to sleep.

Contrary to your surety, you end up having no dreams. Perhaps your mind’s so tired it can’t muster up the energy to dream, or maybe it’s trying to block the memories out. You don’t care though, you’re just grateful. You wake up after a few hours. It’s dark outside your window. Arthur’s gone and you’re all alone.

You feel like crying again, but you’re extremely thirsty. A result of having nothing to drink for God knows how long. You go out into the family room and kitchen of the cabin and find something lying on the cold stove. There’s several cans of food, a full waterskin, a bundle of money and a letter. Reading it, you see it’s from Arthur and he begs you to take care of yourself as best you can and that he’ll try and check on you in a few days. The thought of him returning sends a jolt of hope through your chest.

After drinking nearly half of the waterskin’s contents, you try going back to sleep, but you’re afraid. Afraid of the isolation, the darkness. You light a candle, but it does little to help. Shadows flicker along the walls, the silhouettes of the leaves outside play tricks on your eyes.

You know that not all the Murfrees were in that cabin when Arthur saved you. There were still plenty out there, alive and probably angry. Would they hunt you down? Would they hunt Arthur down? You have more questions than answers. The fear that they will track you and find you here tears through your chest. Should you leave? If Arthur returns, should you ask to follow him? He must have a group of people he lives with, but the thought of living with strangers makes you afraid too. You’ll be lucky if you ever trust another person after this. How can anyone be good when you just witnessed such extreme brutality?

***************************

A few days pass with no sight or word of another person, which is lucky for you. You talked yourself into going to the stream not far from the cabin and bathing, happy to strip the dirt and the blood from your skin. You rubbed yourself raw, as though convinced that by stripping your skin as much as you could, you could strip away the memories.

You struggle to sleep, and when you do, it’s very light. The slightest sounds wake you. If only Arthur were here, you felt safe with him. However, you doubt he’ll return. Why would he? You don’t know each other, he owes you nothing and you’ve nothing to offer him in return for his services. Still, you count the days until you see him, happy that you can see the sunlight.

The day after you came back, a young stag started to visit your house. Your home has always been frequented by deer, of course. But none of them ever stay long. The stag, though, seems to like this spot. You’ve caught him napping beneath your bedroom window a few times. He seems to have no fear of you, nor does he seem aggressive. In fact, he seems curious about you, liking to watch you pick through your sister-in-law’s garden, which is beginning to grow wild. The stag is a welcome companion. You know his senses are far more powerful than your own, and if he’s afraid, you should be too. He never gets worried though, until the fourth day.

You’re out picking some ginseng from the garden when the stag looks up from his grazing and bolts off into the trees. Looking up, you see Arthur walking in on his horse. He waves to you in greeting. A sigh escapes your lips and your stomach unclenches. You’d been afraid it’d been one of the Murfrees coming down the path.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says, dismounting.

“H-hello, Arthur,” you say with a croaky voice. You haven’t spoken a word since you last saw him.

“How are you?” he asks, stopping a few feet away. “Ya look tired.”

You shrug again. “It’s… it’s been hard to sleep.” He just nods, not expecting you to go into detail as to why. You notice from his eyes that he seems tired himself.

“I’d… Let me cook something up for you,” you say. “Afraid all I have is the food you left for me. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“It’s not a problem, ma’am, and you don’t need to do that. By the way, do you know how to feed yourself out here?”

It’s clear he means hunting, and you shake your head. “I don’t think I can do it. Maybe before all this I could’ve, but now…”

He nods, understanding what you mean. “Give it time, Y/N. But I brought more food for you. Thought you might need it.”

You invite him inside, stammering your thanks. Of course, there’s really not anywhere to sit, but you and Arthur do by sitting on the floor, eating out of the cans. You’re both quiet for a time, but then you ask Arthur what his life is like, desperate for a distraction from the hell that is your own life.

He tells you that he’s an outlaw, that he’s running with a gang. They’ve run into the worst of times, which is what led to him and his friend Charles to Beaver Hollow where they found you. He finishes by saying they’re all holed up there now and they’ve cleaned it up.

“You’re not afraid of the Murfrees coming back?” you ask, your eyes wide.

He chuckles. “Trust me, they’d be damn stupid to do that. With how my gang is right now, they’re nastier than those Murfrees.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Mr. Morgan. You… you don’t kidnap and butcher people,” you say slowly, still getting used to talking again.

“No, but we’re all turnin’ on each other like a pack of wild, starvin’ dogs. The gang leader, Dutch… he’s… gone crazy or somethin’. His girl came back, drunk and mad, sayin’ she betrayed us. Our matriarch, Susan, shot her dead. I wanted to spare Dutch’s girl, but they killed her anyways. I honestly have my doubts that she betrayed us. Think she was just heartbroken, woulda said anythin’ to hurt Dutch like he hurt her.”

You don’t really know anything about what he’s saying, but it sounds like his gang’s in trouble. You swear you recognize the name Dutch though.

“What… what is Dutch’s last name?” you ask.

“Van der Linde. Why?”

Your eyes widen again and you stare at Arthur with a new sense of recognition. “You’re with Dutch’s boys? The gang of murderers, train robbers and bandits?”

He sighs and just nods.

“I read about the Blackwater heist, the Valentine massacre. Were… were you involved with those?”

“Not the Blackwater heist. But I helped shoot up Valentine, Rhodes, Saint Denis. I’m afraid I ain’t the hero you believe I am.”

Even though you know you should be appalled and disgusted with the man sitting beside you, you don’t. Instead, you put your hand on his knee. “You saved my life, Mr. Morgan. You killed those bad people, brought me home. Not only that, you’re here now to make sure I’m okay. You can’t be all bad.”

“But I ain’t all good neither, Y/N. Trust me, I killed just as many folks as those bastards who put you in this situation.”

You pause and withdraw your hand. “Did you like it? Killing those people?”

He sighs. “No. I ain’t never liked it. But I had to with most of ‘em.”

“Then you’re not as bad as those Murfree bastards. They… they liked it.” For the first time since you returned, you willingly delve into those memories, trying to get Arthur to see your point. “They said they’d do horrible things to me, Arthur. And I believed every single one of them because I watched them do those things to my family. My brother and his family weren’t good people, but they didn’t deserve what happened. Forgive me, but I don’t see you skinning a man and laughing as he screams. I can’t imagine you raping a girl as young as my niece. I can’t believe you’d mutilate a woman and put her body on a pike for display.”

He swallows. “No. No I’d never do that.”

“Then you ain’t a bad man, not like them. You… saved me and you don’t even know me.”

He looks at you and pats you on the knee. “I’d save you again, miss. Listen, even though things are bad with my gang and I got a lotta work to do, I… I’m hopin’ you’ll be a’right if I stay here every few days?”

You smile for the first time and squeeze his hand. “Nothing would make me happier, Mr. Morgan.”

****************************************

As Arthur promised, every few days he returns to your cabin and usually stays for a day or two. He sleeps out in his own tent during the night, resting in a new bedroll since you still have his old one. You offered it back but he told you to keep it.

After his third visit, he brought tools he bought from Valentine and started making you furniture. You had no means to get it yourself, and you were incredibly embarrassed that he’d do such labors as that, but you were grateful. He made a table first and then a chair to go with the single one you had.

Every time he comes, he brings food and often leaves you with some money. You ask him to keep it, of course, as you haven’t gotten the courage to go to town. However he ignores your pleas and does it anyways, stating you need it more than he does.

Along with this, he decided to teach you how to shoot a gun, stating it’s useful knowledge in case the Murfrees do track you down. You don’t like it much at first as the bang always makes you jump. When you grow used to it, it gets easier. Arthur ends up leaving a carbine repeater with you so you can have some form of protection when he’s gone.

When Arthur isn’t here, the young stag always returns. You find great comfort in the deer’s company, almost like he’s watching over you when Arthur can’t. He always leaves when Arthur visits, but within hours of his departure, the stag comes back every time.

As the weeks go by, your memories slowly begin to grow less harsh and you start recalling them less. You still don’t trust strangers and any sight of one from the trail sends you running into your cabin. The threat of the Murfrees still hangs heavy over your head. The nightmares started some time ago and you still aren’t able to sleep very well. You notice you sleep best on the nights when Arthur’s visiting.

You look out your kitchen window and see him coming down the trail now, making your heart lift. Opening the window, you call out to him and he waves, a big grin on his face. As he dismounts his horse, he looks over at you.

“What you cookin’?” he asks.

“Just some turkey. I shot one earlier.”

“Did ya?” he says, pride in his voice. He tried getting you to eat some eat a couple weeks back but with no success. However, even you can’t deny how much weight you’ve lost since the cave. Even though you’re eating enough beans, vegetables and fruits, it’s obvious you need to eat some meat to keep going.

He walks into the cabin, sniffing appreciatively. You can’t help but blush. The more you two have gotten to know each other, the more you’ve grown to like him. Not only that, you’re quickly developing a crush on him. You have an idea that he might like you too. After all, why else would he keep visiting you like this?

Just as you’re setting dinner down on the table, the cabin is suddenly illuminated by and quickly followed by a huge bang, causing you to jump out of your skin.

“Easy, easy,” Arthur says, his hand planting on the small of your back. “It’s just lightning and thunder.”

You blush at his touch and nod. He goes over to the window and looks up at the sky. “Hmm. Looks like a pretty good storm.”

You pause. You’ve no bed to offer him, but you don’t want him sleeping out in the rain either.

“You can, um, take my bed if you want,” you offer. “You’re the guest, after all.”

“No, miss, I’d never kick ya out of your own bed.”

You think to offer him sleeping with you in the bed but you quickly dash away that thought. No way would he go for it and you doubt you’d be comfortable with that.

However, as the night sets further in, the storm grows stronger. The lightning and thunder last for a long time, even to the point where you’re huddled in bed and shivering. You’ve never been a huge fan of thunder during the night, but after the Murfrees it’s even worse.

After a while of heart-wrenching fear of the storm, you get out of bed and look out in the kitchen, where Arthur’s laid his bedroll out on the floor.

“Arthur?” you whisper.

He grunts over the howling wind, letting you know he’s awake.

“Arthur, will… will you come be with me? I can’t sleep over this.”

He sits up and nods. Before he stands, you go back to your bed and huddle against the wall, still cold. He comes in, his eyes glancing at the lit lantern on your bedside table. You never sleep without it anymore. Silently, he crawls into bed and lies down on his back. At first, you give him his space, but the lightning and thunder persist. This sends you to pack yourself against him, your head buried into his shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact his arm wraps protectively around you.

After this night, things noticeably change between the two of you. Arthur’s much more likely to touch you and he spends most nights in your bed. Despite everything you saw happen to your sister-in-law and niece in the cave, it doesn’t take long before you end up having sex with Arthur. It had been in the morning and he’d been spooning you. You’d shuffled your hips a little and felt his morning wood. Being already attracted to him, you couldn’t control yourself and one thing led to another. He was the first person you’d slept with too, but he was gentle and did his best to make sure you felt good.

You were honestly surprised with yourself about sleeping with him. You hadn’t even kissed and yet there you were with him between your legs. However, you wouldn’t deny that it felt right. After the deed was done, the two of you talked for a while about what would happen between the two of you. Both of you admitted your feelings for one another. It was the best thing to have happened to you since Arthur saved your life. All the walls came tumbling down. He told you the details about his gang and how bad things had become. You told him about your past too, the abuses you suffered at the hands of your brother and his family, which explained why you weren’t devastated by their deaths, though disturbed by them.

Since that morning, sex between the two of you has become a fairly regular thing. Arthur’s careful, not wanting another situation like Eliza and Isaac. Your feelings have quickly spiraled out of control. You wish he was around all the time but understand when he has to leave to try and help what remains of his gang.

Arthur says he loves you, but it’s not until one night that he discovers he’s never loved anyone more. The two of you had just finished fooling around and he’d collapsed on top of you. Things had been so hard in the gang lately, he and Charles had aided Eagle Flies, the Wapiti chief’s son escape prison, and Dutch had found out. He’d been irate when he discovered Arthur was helping the Wapiti behind his back. Things had hit an all time low, so being with you was the greatest form of relief for him. However, as he settled on top of you, you held his head to your chest and stroked his hair.

Never before had you lay with him like this. From the beginning, it was him who held you, him who brushed your hair, him who comforted you in the night. But here you were, with his head on your shoulder, whispering in his ear that things would be better. No woman in his past ever did this, and he knew he’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you.

****************************************

Arthur rides down towards your little cabin with the heaviest of hearts. The betrayal crushes down on him, and the pain of everything sags his shoulders down. When he sees you out in the garden, looking so beautiful as you sing to yourself with the sun glowing on your hair, he feels like crying, knowing you’ll accept him with open arms.

When you spot him, you break out with your big smile. The one he loves so much. When he embraces you, burying his face into your hair, you know something real bad has happened. You ask and he tells you how the Wapiti attacked the oil fields in retaliation to all the horrible things the army and Cornwall have done to them. He tells you how Dutch used the Indians to get rich, how he himself had been knocked down and nearly killed. Dutch had a chance to save him but abandoned him.

“He was like my father,” he sniffs into your hair. “Him and Hosea, they raised me. But now I see I’ve never been anything other than a means to an end for him. I’m expendable. All those goddamn years. Wasted.”

“What will you do?” you ask softly when he composes himself.

He leans up, his hands still on your waist. “I ain’t goin’ back. I’m done breakin’ my back for that fool. If… If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay here with you. Try for a… a new life.”

You smile and brush his cheek with your hand. “Nothing would make me happier, Arthur.”

The kiss that follows is one you’ll never forget.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #357

“your magic white rabbit has left its writing on the wall / we follow like alice, and just keep diving down the hole”

Are you better at telling stories or writing them? Writing, by a long shot. What’s one song you hate, but know every word to? i'm a barbie girl in a fckn barbie woooooorld What’s your favorite magazine? I don’t read magazines. If you could be an animal for one day, which animal would you choose? Probably a house cat. Be indoors and safe, able to just nap... lol. But I'd want another cat as a friend, too! Do you prefer outdoor or indoor concerts/events? Indoors, by a mile. I get hot outside way too easily. Do you know if you were a planned child? I don't know. What’s your favorite gem? Dragon's breath opal. As an adult, do you want to live in an apartment or a house? I'd like to live in a house, especially with the pets I want. I doubt many apartment complexes would allow multiple reptiles and inverts. Do you like the stem or leafy part of the broccoli? It doesn't matter much to me, but I prefer the stem. The texture is more likeable to me. Do bats frighten you? No, I adore bats! Does Paris appeal to you? Yeah, it's a pretty place. Are you a KPOP fan? No, I've never really checked it out. How long was your longest relationship? Over three and a half years. First time you kissed the last person you kissed? We were outside roasting marshmallows one night. Do you have to really know someone to kiss them? Absolutely. I don't dish 'em out for nothing. Were you anyone’s first kiss? No. If you had to be named after one of the 50 states of America, what state would you WANT to be named after? I actually think "Nevada" would be kinda pretty as a name? Do you think morals are universal or relative to the beliefs, traditions, or practices of individuals or groups? I've wondered this for a long while, really. I lean towards it being a mix, maybe? But more towards universal, I think... with some exceptions. This answer is all over the place, I honestly don't know. Is torture ever a good option? If no, why not? If yes, when? No? I think the "why not" is obvious... You just don't. What do you think is one one of the most undervalued professions right now? Teachers, garbagemen, retail and food workers... There's a lot. Have you ever seen anyone have a heart attack? Thank Christ no. Have you personalized your answering machine/voicemail? No. Have you ever had Fiji brand water? I actually don't believe I have, though it's always looked appealing to me, haha. What’s your favorite horror movie? The Crazies and the first Silent Hill, as well as both Blair Witch Projects. What was the worst thing a friend has either done or said to you? I'd rather not even think about things the bitch said to me. Are you biracial? No. When was the last time you got mad and broke something? I've never broken something when mad. What color dress did you wear to prom? My first was maroon, second one was black. Who is the cutest baby you know? My friend has a daughter named Scarlett who is absolutely gorgeous. Have you ever thrown a rock at a window? No, because I respect people's fucking property. Has anyone ever thrown a rock at your window? No. Does your hair react well to dye, or does it damage it? It likes to not take dye at all. >.> I have only had one instance where a friend dyed it red and it stuck for months and months, but we kept it in for a couple hours, I think. My normal hairdresser says it's because my hair is really healthy and I guess rejects it. What kind of pet do you wish you had? I ramble plenty about how I want tarantulas and more reptiles, haha. I also DESPERATELY want to rescue or foster an opossum. When was the last time you were diagnosed with something? Are you concerned about anything regarding your physical or mental health at the moment? I haven't been diagnosed with anything in quite some time, I believe, but as I'm going through the process of being approved for TMS therapy for my depression, my bipolar diagnosis is being questioned, which is... strange to me. It's been acknowledged by many a doctor that I have bipolar 2, but if insurance recognizes my primary diagnosis as bipolar, they won't cover TMS because it can massively excite the mania portion of bipolarity, and therefore I can't do it because we can't manually afford it. I'm willing to take the risk by far, as I've never had issues with mania, but I can't without insurance. I'm just waiting to hear back from them... What is one blanket judgment you tend to make about people (like, you judge all people who live at home, all people who drink, etc)? Does this judgment come from a particular personal experience? I really don't know. How do you react to other people yelling or slamming doors? Is this something you ever do too? I get very scared if it's a man. I don't like anyone doing it, and my anxiety will spike regardless, I'm just terrified of angry men. Have you ever lost your cool at work or somewhere else important? What happened as a result? No. Who has the power to break you? Jason still might. I don't know. Is anyone in your family blind? My sister is legally blind in one eye. Do you believe in evolution? Yeah. I do find the concept odd, that ALL LIFE originated from one thing, but I sure ain't got a better explanation, so. What job do you think people should be paid the most for? Surgeons, maybe? I dunno, that's a big question. Were you ever held back a year in school? Did you ever skip a grade? No. Have you ever been given a hickey? Have you given one? Yeah to both. What is your least favourite thing about your full name? I have the most basic white bitch middle name in the world, lol. Do you like the age you are? Eh, I don't mind it much, but I think it'd be better to be in my early 20s versus mid 20s. I'm just always so tired now. I can't believe I used to refuse to go to sleep before 10:30. What’s your favourite kind of poptart? The chocolate sundae one. If you had to eat one type (Chinese, etc.) of food which would it be? American bc I'm not very adventurous with food at all. When did your family immigrate to wherever you live now? *shrug* Are your fingers long, or short? Long. Mom's always said I have "piano fingers." Do you play Pokemon Go? If so, what level are you and who’s your buddy? Yeah, I love it, but don't play it nearly as much as I want because I don't exactly go anywhere, lol. My bud's Charmeleon, and I'm probably like five EXP from level 28. Do you ever sit indoors and wear sunglasses or a hat? I don't own either, so. Do you know how to read animals’ behavior? I honestly think I'm very good at it. Do you like playing video games? If so, what do you usually play? Yes, but not as much as I used to. All I really play nowadays is World of Warcraft. The only working console I have is a PS2, and I haven't bought a new game in probably a couple years, but there are definitely ones I want to play, mainly on PS4. Just can't afford it right now. Have you ever viewed the moon through a telescope? No. Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks? No. There's no way I could, given my tremors. Do you prefer reading books, comic books, manga/graphic novels, magazines, or the newspaper? Books. When is the last time you ate donuts? It's been months, man. I've seriously been craving a glazed one, though. Krispy Kreme sounds amaaaaaziiiiiing. Has anyone ever called you sexy? Somehow. Do you like raisins? NO NO NO NO NO. Have you ever overheard a conversation you weren’t supposed to? More than once. Do you like ants? They're genuinely extremely fascinating animals, but they're seriously annoying nevertheless. Did you like the movie Antz? I loved it as a kid. What was your favorite ice cream flavor when you were little? Chocolate. Is it still your favorite? Eh, depends on the day. By the way, what is your name? Brittany. What time zone do you live in? EST. Do you like cats? I love cats. What’s the most creepy experience you’ve ever had? One night when my mom and sister were at the beach for a dance competition, I was having trouble sleeping, and it only got worse when my dog Teddy started freaking the fuck out, barking loudly and staring intently at the foot of the bed. I was so scared that I tried to force his head to lie down, but he fought against me. I was terrified, but got up out of the bed and went into the living room to call my mom at like 3 in the damn morning, and she had to have our neighbor come over to sleep in the house with me (I was in a different room that night). You can't convince me that there wasn't paranormal shit going on. I think the house was haunted honestly, for multiple reasons. What’s the most boring game to exist? Why do you dislike it so much? Hm, I dunno. What’s the coolest place that you've ever been to? What’d you do there? Disney World was very memorable as a kid. We just went around collecting signatures, going on rides, all that fun stuff. I'll never forget fireworks at the castle. If you’re interested in having a long-term relationship with someone, do you think that waiting a certain amount of time before you first have sex is a good idea? Or does it not matter? I think it's a good idea, personally, mostly for the sake of reducing the spread of STDs. Just because you think you'll be long-term, doesn't mean you will be. Besides that, isn't there a science that sex and feelings of love are connected? Like, sex is impossible without at least some underlying emotions? I might be entirely wrong, in which case forgive me for spreading misinformation, but if that's so and things don't go as planned, you've gotten emotionally invested in someone too early and wind up getting hurt. You do you, I just don't think it's smart. Have you ever discovered something big by looking through someone’s phone, Facebook, email, etc.? No. Have you kept anything from your past relationships? (Things they left at your house, gifts, notes, etc) Do you think that’s a big deal for future relationships or not? Yeah, like plushies and little stuff like that. When it's tiny things like I just mentioned, I really don't think it matters. I think some things might be questionable to keep, but at the same time, I don't think it's really wrong to keep memories of a happy time, if the thing still brings you joy and has been emotionally disconnected from the ex? Idk. Do you have any financial regrets? Either way, what’s an example of a GOOD financial decision you’ve made? Going to and dropping out of college three fucking times. I don't know about a good financial decision seeing as I'm not even in charge of my own finances, nor really have any to begin with. Are you a believer in “signs” from the Universe about things in your life? If you are, can you think of a particular example? No. Name some things that one or both of your parents are really good at or really interested in. Mom LOVES medical stuff, like watching surgeries and stuff like that. She is also absolutely incredible with children. Dad likes sports a lot, hockey and football especially. Think of a good friend of the opposite sex (currently or in the past). Have you ever had any sort of “more than a friend” or sexual thoughts about them? If not, can you explain why? Well, we dated briefly, so... It was awkward to, but I let myself imagine sexual situations a few times to help myself understand if I really did like-like him, or if he was truly just a brother to me. Turns out, he's a bro. If someone told you that you would never achieve something and you ended up doing it, would you have any interest in finding that person and showing them? I'ma be honest, yes. I wouldn't actively seek them out, but rather just hope they somehow find out or I run into them or something. What is the most jealousy-induced thing you’ve ever done? Apparently, be the girl Juan liked instead of this girl that literally threatened to deck me. Guess what? We're friends now lmaoooo.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''white rabbit'' by egypt central

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recentanimenews · 3 years

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FEATURE SERIES: My Favorite One Piece Arc with Steve Yurko

I love One Piece and I love talking to people who love One Piece. And with the series going on 23 years now, there is a whole lot to talk about. As the series is about to publish its 1000th chapter, a true feat in and of itself, we thought we should reflect upon the high-seas adventure and sit down with some notable names in the One Piece fan community and chat about the arcs they found to be especially important, or just ones they really, really liked.

Welcome to the next article in the series "My Favorite One Piece Arc!"

My next guest in this series is Steve Yurko, co-host of The One Piece Podcast, a podcast with a subject you can probably guess. He's also a former storyboard artist for Rick & Morty and is currently working for Netflix Animation. As a ride-or-die Sanji fan, Steve chose the Baratie Arc, where Luffy and the gang run into an East Blue restaurant with a cool chef that loves to cook and kick.

A note on spoilers: If you haven't seen the Baratie arc yet, this interview does contain major plot points. Watch the Arlong Park arc starting RIGHT HERE if you'd like to catch up or rewatch!

Dan Dockery: So a friend tells you, "I'm done with the Syrup Village arc and I'm not sure if I want to watch this next one. I think I might be tapped out on this whole One Piece thing. In one sentence, how do you get them to stay and watch the Baratie arc?

Steve Yurko: The Baratie arc laid down the foundation and created the formula of the One Piece arc as we know it.

That's pretty good!

Yeah, I’d say that, when I first started it, One Piece was my third favorite. I was more of a fan of series like Shaman King and Naruto, but after Baratie, things shifted. It was a turning point for me. I would hope that it would do the same for anyone who’s, say, previously apathetic towards the series.

How old were you when you first read it? Or watched it?

It feels weird to say this, but my introduction to One Piece was Chapter 1. Like Dragon Ball Z, the first episode I can remember watching was, like, Yamcha training on King Kai’s planet, and I’d get Goku and Yamcha confused and stuff, because I had just dived in. So for me to start a story like One Piece from the beginning is kind of rare. I was 15, I think.

So, we're jumping into Baratie, and we first see the guy with the brass knuckles, Fullbody. He's trying to act cool on a date and he's being mean to everyone else. And then we have Sanji being typical Cool Sanji and Fullbody acts up and Sanji just tears through him. How did you react? Did you know immediately that you'd like this waiter?

Well, I don't want to alarm you here, but my first thought was “Sanji’s cool!” I’d seen images of him before, and I saw his black suit and blond hair and I figured, “Oh, another crew member, probably. Looks distinct enough.” So I often have to look back and wonder “Did I like him because of his edgy coolness?” but I think now it’s because there were more layers to him. Like, he definitely stands out from the other Straw Hats, but he also has this distinct fighting style with cool reasoning. He’s a cook and he doesn’t want to bust up his hands trying to punch people in the face, so he uses his feet. So, he does like these cool capoeira kicks, which only gets better as they go along because I feel like so many anime characters, the stronger they get, the more they start to fight the same with fast volleys of punches and laser blasts. So Sanji’s kicks are a great way to differentiate himself from the main cast and other anime heroes.

So, then we have Luffy, he shows up by damaging the Baratie. Enter: Zeff. Full disclosure: In my infinite naivete when I first watched One Piece, I thought Zeff was going to be the new crew member. And then I thought Gin was going to join the Straw Hat crew. And then when Sanji finally joined, I was like, "This guy? Really? Dark horse candidate over here."

You didn’t know yet?

I guess I hadn't watched the first ED yet — when the crew slowly shows up and stands beside one another.

You saw Usopp’s silhouette appear and thought, “Eh, I’ve seen enough.”

"That must be all of them."

It happens.

So, you meet Zeff, and you learn about Sanji and Zeff's relationship, and we get a big One Piece flashback. What do you think of that? Because it would become a staple of the series to kinda pause, see what happened to an important guy, and then come back.

Such an incredible story and so gruesome and terrifying. Sanji’s original flashback is so underrated because it could happen to anyone! Like, you’d have to go out of your way to get stranded on an island, but going days and weeks without food or any real comfort? I think people underestimate how traumatizing that would be. And then Zeff losing his leg because he hacked it off for food, it’s brutal. Just thinkin’ about that, I feel it in my shins. Because that almost happened to me with a minor injury. I let a minor injury get infected, and I could’ve been close to losing a leg.

Wait, what? Gahd.

I was doing box jumps at a gym, and my shin hit the corner of this wooden crate.

Yeah, those things have no give in them.

Absolutely. And at the time, I thought it was just this dark spot on my shin. And I figured it was, ya know a bruise. So I let it be. And then I picked at the scab and I realized “Wow, that’s a little deeper than I thought. I guess I’ll go to the doctor if it gets worse.” And I kept going to the gym, wearing pants over like this open wound. And my left leg is so swollen. So I went to two different doctors, as the first one did tests and then sent me to another one. And when this doctor saw me, the look on her face said “Oh, this is bad.” So I laughed out loud about how dumb I was and the doctor turned to me and said “This isn’t funny. This IS SERIOUS.” It had gotten infected with bacteria and it was spreading, and she just took a sharpie and drew around the infected area, and gave me antibiotics and was like “You have to keep this elevated, and if the redness goes outside of this line, go to the hospital.” But luckily, I recovered, even though the doctors were like “Honestly, we thought you’d go to the hospital.” So when Zeff severs his foot with a rock, how does anyone not feel that?

Do you think that's one of the reasons Luffy is fascinated by Sanji at first? His mentor, Shanks, lost his arm and was cool about it. Zeff lost his leg and was cool about it. Basically twins.

That’d be an interesting conversation that we never got to see. Just two dudes talking about how weird it is that both their father figures did that, with only Luffy thinking it’s cool.

Don Krieg's ship gets blown in half by an incomprehensibly cool character, Mihawk, the first Warlord to appear in the show. You see Mihawk arrive — what is your reaction to him? Because it's not a case of "The villain of the villain is my friend," but rather "Oh, he did that to the villain? I hope he does not do that to us, as that would suck."

It’s almost like the good guys meeting the bad guys, and then a tornado comes in. But here’s the thing: I missed the issue of Jump where Zoro fought Mihawk. So I assumed that Zoro had just won. The greatest swordsman in the world shows up and Zoro beats him. Boom. The climax of his character arc has been achieved. Nothing left for Zoro.

He just did it.

I didn’t find out until so much later that Zoro lost. I wasn’t quite aware of what made for a captivating story yet. At that time, an obstacle appears, an obstacle gets taken out, ya move on. I almost want to apologize to Mihawk.

I love how One Piece does this though. They do it with Smoker and Aokiji and the like. It reminds me of The Witcher III when you go off the path a little bit, and you're at a Level 4 and then a Level 39 Gryphon swoops down and decapitates you. It keeps the "power levels" interesting.

Luffy starts up Breath of the Wild and goes right for Calamity Ganon. But Mihawk is like the analogy for the Grand Line. He represents it, without revealing too much. Mihawk is like a Pizza Hut demo disc of danger.

I really like that. And no one knows, to this day, exactly how powerful he is. Over 20 years later, and we're still wondering how he matches up against Shanks or Blackbeard or whatever. One Piece has so many characters where Oda hasn't shown his full hand in regards to them, yet we're totally emotionally invested in them. That's good storytelling.

He’s doing something right. And I love that Mihawk has a little character arc here, too, where he shows up nonchalantly slicing up Krieg’s ships, probably doesn’t expect much, and then he’s taken aback by Zoro’s gusto, because he hasn’t seen anyone like that in a while. And he slices Zoro down. But he respects him, when in the beginning, he clearly didn’t respect anyone around. Mihawk wants to see him be better and try to take him down one day. For him to willingly build someone up like that is rare. Like Frieza wouldn’t do that.

So, Don Krieg — what were your opinions of him at the time? Because he's a really bad guy surrounded by more morally grey guys like Mihawk and Gin.

What I like about the East Blue saga is that every main villain is an antithesis of Luffy and what makes Luffy a truly great captain. Buggy is all about treasure. Kuro is about ambition and the fortitude to be a pirate. Krieg is about might and strength, and Krieg thinks he has both of those because of his weapons and armor. But Luffy has willpower and ambition and doesn’t let the world change his views. Luffy is incorruptible whereas Krieg is willing to poison his own crew when stuff starts going south. Krieg isn’t fondly remembered, but he really serves his purpose in the story.

So, after Krieg is defeated, Sanji turns down Luffy's offer to join the Straw Hat crew. Now, he knows this is a bad idea. He's not gonna find the All Blue floating around on the Baratie. Why doesn't he go immediately?

Well, he knows it’s a bad idea but he’s completely misinterpreting Zeff’s sacrifice. He feels that since Zeff sacrificed his leg, he has to repay him by working for him indefinitely. But the reason that Zeff did that was because he wants Sanji to live on and chase his dream. That’s why Zeff took pity on him in the first place. He’s an older, worn-down man now, and he stopped chasing his dream. And now he wants to see Sanji or someone get a win. It lifts his spirit to see Sanji and live kinda vicariously through him.

So, the second time I ever cried over One Piece was during Sanji's goodbye and Zeff's "Don't catch a cold." The first time was when that little dog was trying to protect his dead owner's shop in Orange Town, but that's a different story. But this shot of Sanji on his knees thanking Zeff with all the cooks surrounding them is so iconic, and Sanji's acting like it's a gift that Zeff gave him that Sanji could never repay, while as you said, Zeff just wants Sanji to be happy. What did you get out of that? I assume that you're a human with human emotions.

I cry every time I watch that. When I first saw it, I was like “How? How is a series this good?” And there’s so much to that ending sequence. Because the Baratie is built on this rough, angry masculinity. Just these dudes being mean and fighting each other and customers all the time. There’s never a time or a place for lending a shoulder to someone else. No emotional embraces of any kind. Just everyone berating everyone. No one can open up — just stupid man babies. And then you get to this moment where Sanji is leaving and they’re all trying to be cool while playing it off. Especially Zeff, who can’t give a legitimate goodbye, but rather a “Don’t catch a cold.” But there’s so much to that statement and the facade crumbles. All these grown men start bawling.

I've never thought about it that way. There's all these little hints of kindness, like feeding the bad guys, and it's a masculinity powder keg. And then Sanji, in an ultimate display of putting his heart out there, bows to the man who saved him and the keg explodes. That's really cool.

ONE PIECE LIGHTNING ROUND!

Favorite One Piece character?

Sanji

Favorite One Piece villain?

Enel

Favorite One Piece moment?

March to Arlong Park

Favorite Straw Hat Crew pairing?

Luffy and Zoro

Favorite moment of the new Wano anime arc?

Soba Mask’s debut

If you could eat one Devil Fruit, what would it be?

Whatever Kanjuro’s fruit is

Moment that made you cry the hardest?

Sanji leaving the Baratie

Moment that made you cheer the loudest?

Straw Hats at the Tower of Justice standing across from Robin

One Piece location that you'd like to live in?

Whole Cake Island. Ya eat well, ya know, you can survive Big Mom

Favorite fight scene?

Sanji vs Mr. 2, of course

Stay tuned for the next installment of "My Favorite One Piece Arc" as we speak with Botchamania creator Maffew about his favorite One Piece arc: Alabasta!!

Daniel Dockery is a Senior Staff Writer for Crunchyroll. Follow him on Twitter!

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features.

By: Daniel Dockery

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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sexy-monster-fucker · 5 years

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Relating to Malachite’s Story of Abuse

People who have been following me for a while will know about my ex boyfriend who I left back in October after over a year of a relationship. I described the situation to you as being a relief that I was done. I was exhausted, I lost weight, I lost sleep. I was unhappy. But, at the same time, I was happy.

Allow me to take everyone back to the beginning of our relationship. I was two years younger than him, in High School when we met. I was young, and had just gotten out of a relationship with someone who has physically and emotionally abused me. Wounds were still fresh. I was still grieving. I was searching for the thing that had been preached to me in media my entire life: true love. I met him through theatre. My (former) best friend had brought him to practice because we were needing more male actors. (I had met him once before. At a football game. He was one of my close guy friends friend at the time. He was with his girlfriend. This was months before he would come into our auditorium.) My friend happened to be one of his exes (his first if I remember correctly), one he had fallen in love with. He was still hung up on her. Head over heals even though she was dating someone else. She used him. A lot. He was her toy. She would call crying over her boyfriend, he would answer and do anything to help her. Which sounds like a good friend. Until you realize she was calling him, asking him to buy her things. Begging for him to bring her “that thing she liked.” That is not friendship. That is abuse and manipulation.

Back to he and I. I remember being intrigued by the short guy who wondered in with my friend. I knew him. He had just got dumped by one of my middle school friends. She was still my friend at the time, but we were not close. (She and I still talk to this day. Very nice girl.) His ex (girlfriend at the time) and my best friend had came to my birthday party that past January. His ex (girlfriend at the time) had fallen asleep on my couch, snuggled up to a 4 ft tall Spider-Man plush I had with a party favor in her mouth. It was funny. We thought he would enjoy seeing his girlfriend like this. I asked if anyone knew his number. Of course. My best friend did. She had it memorized. So, I sent him the picture. She dumped him later in either February or March (around the same time I was in an abusive relationship much different than the one I am telling about). She had valid reasons for dumping him. Reasons I would soon learn about.

They sat in the corner together. He and my best friend. I was performing. He was new and sat in the audience to watch to learn. After practice, I introduced myself. I remember wearing his hat. He was a nerd. And so was I. I had no intention of dating him at the time. I barely knew him. Why would I consider that. He was fairly good looking (especially by my standards.) After practice that night, I called my best friend. We did this often. We called and talked on the phone. We were friends, it was nice to have someone to talk to. I was also recovering. I needed someone to talk to. I did not like where my mind went when I was alone at night. It was scary and I did not like scary things. She calmed me down. I do not recall her being abusive. Not until he got involved. I took a fancy to him towards the end of March. He had been in theatre for probably a month. He and I were friends. I remember him waiting outside with me one night for my grandma to pick me up. We were talking. We talked every chance we got. I remember us talking about continuing the conversation. He offered his phone number, and I accepted. Handing my phone over for him to plug his own number in. We smiled. My grandma pulled up to the curb shortly after that. We texted for quite sometime that night.

We continued this for about a month. I remember one night texting him, but then he went silent for almost three hours. I was worried. I did not know what was going on and I was not getting a response. Someone who usually texted back immediately was suddenly silent. I was young. It freaked me out. In the past when a boy I was texting went silent, it was short after him threatening to kill himself. Fear came with silence for me. I sat in my room, not wanting to bother him. “He has a job, he’s busy,” I would tell myself. I tried to calm myself like this often. Rationalizing helped. Even though sometimes it was not rational at all. He finally texted back and I sprung to my feet. “Hey.” I was so worried. And all I got was a “hey”? I would take what I could get. Turns out, my friend had been having boyfriend trouble again. So he talked to her. I texted her, as her best friend who was worried, asking her what was going on. She told me nothing was going on. She told me she was happier than ever. I told her about what he had said. She told me she just wanted to talk to him so she made it up. She knew he would talk to her if she was sad. It’s how she liked him. Feeling pity on her. I remember giggling with her about it. On the inside I knew what she was doing was wrong. But she was my best friend. I needed to support her. I now know that was wrong.

Skip forward a bit. It’s opening weekend of our play. He and I had gotten a lot closer. I finally broke down and told him about her intentions. He, of course, did not believe me. But, he knew her longer, so of course he would believe her over me. It did not bother me. Our delightful night talks were getting to a point of not being as delightful. They were becoming more and more erotic as we continued to talk into the night. I was still a virgin at the time. This was all new to me. Someone who, I thought, actually liked me showing interest in something like that was mind blowing. The last time my relationship had gotten sexual was with my abusive ex. He would often show me things on his body that I clearly was not comfortable seeing. Often during school he would put his hands on me, even though I expressed I did not want that. He violated me. But. He was my boyfriend. Maybe this is what having a boyfriend was like. I now know that is wrong. I remember feeling things I had never felt with this new boy. He made me feel like he wanted me in more than one way. He made me feel like he wanted us to be together. So. The Sunday of opening weekend, I let him have what he wanted from me. It was consensual. I will not lie in saying I was not as intrigued in him as he was in me. But. I was young and stupid. I thought he was wanting a relationship with me. He had asked me out over the phone the night before, so of course he wanted to be with me. Looking back, if he had truly wanted me sex would not have been the first (and sort of only) thing on his mind.

Our relationship was rocky from the start. The day after he had asked me out, one of our makeup artists - who is one of my good friends as well (she will also be super important later on, so remember her) - informs me that she had walked in on my best friend and my now boyfriend alone in the dark together in the dressing room. She told me he begged her “Don’t tell Hunter, please.” I did not think much of it. They were friends. I did not think he was doing anything crazy like that. I told him that him being close to her made me slightly uncomfortable. He understood and told me he would hold back on being so close to her. Compromise. It’s part of a relationship. I also told my best friend about how I felt. She told me she understood. She was getting a new phone number in the next couple of days and told me she would not give him the new number. Easy fix. Or so I thought.

Everything was fine for the next month. He met my parents and I met his in this time. I was happy with him. But that would soon change. He was over at my house one afternoon. We were spending time with my family, but my mom needed to go to bed because she had been working all day prior. So we decided to go outside to hangout with my little brother. It was getting dark and I knew his parents would be there soon. I told him I would go inside and check to see if his dad texted. But what I found was something worse. They were talking again. Planning to go behind my back to go out together. Hangout without telling me. Now, you have to understand. This was a big deal to me. Two people who I had been so close to were betraying me. It hurt. A lot. He came inside to check on me. I did not want to look at him. I ran outside. I was feeling overwhelmed and emotional. He saw what I was looking at on his phone and chased after me. He was trying to talk to me, but I did not want to listen. He had no excuse for what he was doing. He was just apologizing. I was angry and upset. It was so much. His dad pulled up in my driveway very shortly after that. I told him to go. He did not want to leave until he made it up to me. He never did. Really, I knew he did not. Once he got home, he texted me a long paragraph about how sorry he was. Telling me I was the only girl for him. Telling me how much he cared about me and how much he loved me. He blocked her on everything. Promised me he would not talk to her. I believed him and told him everything was fine.

This was only the beginning of his going behind my back. It seemed constant as we progressed. He was going on vacation with the woman he and his father lived with (who, to him, was his step mother even though his father and she never were romantic). I was happy he was getting to go out. He worked seven days a week. His parents were business owners, he had to help. I was going to miss him, of course. But I would never stop him from going. He arrived and told me he was having a good time. I was happy for him. But later that night, he texted me. His texts seemed off. I asked him what he was doing. He told me he was drinking. Let me go ahead and say, I am strongly against underage drinking. He promised me at the beginning of our relationship he would never do something like that. It was just something that made me uncomfortable (when I was young, one of my brother’s friends died while drinking. He and another person got into a fight while drunk and the other person hit him in the back of the head with a beer bottle. It killed him. It scarred me). I remember my heart sinking as I asked him if he was serious. He told me yes, but he did not see why that was a big deal. But it was to me. It bothered me and he knew that. I expressed this to him. He told me I was being dramatic. I grew angry. I called him on the phone. I asked him if he thought this was funny. He told me he had no idea what I was talking about. We got into a screaming match over the phone. This was not the way things should have been resolved, but that was what happened. I cried, he yelled. And vis versa. He told me he would stop. I knew better, but it was three in the morning and I was ready for it to stop.

Things were okay for the next little bit. It was a lot of small arguments. My parents told me that it was odd for two people to argue to me. I told them we were not really arguing. It was just how we talked to each other. That was, of course, a lie. But I did not want my parents to keep me from seeing the boy I was dating. I did not care how much we fought, I still loved him. My parents told me our relationship was too new for me to know if I loved him. I told them I did. Them telling me this was not going to stop me. Honestly, it fueled me to be with him and love him harder. I was stubborn and really did not care what my parents thought.

Skipping ahead to the next big event of abuse in our relationship. It was late November. We had been together since that past April. He had been being suspicious. I had a bad feeling something was going on. I had questioned him on it, he told me nothing was happening. I was smarter than that, but I let it go. I did that a lot, let things go. It was what I was good at. I was always good at letting it go. I was sitting at the lunch table when one of our makeup artists - the one I mentioned before - came up to me. “Hunter, I have to tell you something. You can’t get mad at me though,” she said. I was worried. I asked her what was up. She showed me something on her phone that still haunts me to this day. He had been sexting some fourteen year old girl. I felt my heart sink as I read the sexual oriented messages. They were in great details of the things he was going to do to her. I felt sick. It made me sick. He was supposed to be in a committed relationship with me. What he was doing was cheating. It is as simple as that. He was cheating on me. I did not hold it against our makeup artist for telling me. I was thankful she did. No one else would have. I stormed to the gym where he was, screaming. (According to my friends who were in that class, I used the word “fuck” four times in one sentence without them being back to back.) My friends say they have never seen me more angry/never been more afraid of me than that moment. I was furious. That is hands down of the most angry moments I have ever had. My emotions were high. There was so much going through my mind. I wanted answers. I demanded them. I screamed at him in the hallway. The gym teacher walked in, coming to class. He stopped and asked me if he could do anything to help, I told him no. I had it under control. So, we stood there. Screaming in the hallway. I wanted to know when this happened and what motive he had for doing it. I was shaking. I did not know who the boy standing in front of me was. This is not the boy I had fallen in love with and dedicated so much time to. I had given him so much. But all he did was take. Constantly. He was basically apologizing through the entire fight. But he did not feel remorse. He was upset he got caught. Our vice principal came up to us, asking what was going on. He did not begin crying until an adult came around. He did not want to look like the bad guy.

That night he told me details about how it happened. Telling me she had came where he worked with his friend (who might I add was trying to date the girl at the time. Convenient. A real betrayal of his friend), and given him her Snapchat. They began messaging back and forth. It led to talk of sex. He never owned up to sleeping with her, but I am smart enough to put two and two together. But. His motive is what stuck with me. Not the messages. Not the pictures that were exchanged. He told me that it was because I was not giving him enough attention. He told me that it was my fault he did it. He was acting out to get my attention back. The sad part is... I believed him. But. I did not want him to leave me. He was the boy I had fallen in love with. Him leaving would have ended my life. I could not live with out him. Despite everything...

I stayed.

We fought a lot from there on. I had trouble trusting him or anyone else from there forward. My paranoia was at an all time high. I pushed people away. I accused people of lying to me. I closed myself off from anyone and everyone, but him. I was loosing myself. I hate to admit it, but I lost myself entirely. There was no more friends. It was just he and I from there on. I dedicated myself to him. Because truly, I blamed myself for what had happened. I knew I was not perfect, but him telling me that was the nail in the coffin. I needed to win him back. I needed to give him all my attention. He needed to know that I loved him and only him. I wanted him to know he was all I wanted. I didn’t need friends if he was there. I spent all my time with him. If my friends invited me out, I told them I was busy. On the rare occasion that I decided to go, he would blow up my phone the entire time. Asking me if there were other boys there. Asking me where I was. Asking me why I was not responding. I was with my friends. I did not want to have to be worrying about him. But when he would go out, I did the exact same thing to him. I was paranoid. My actions were justified (to me) by the fact that the couple of times I did not question, he was doing something I would not approve of. We were both childish. It was stupid. We were supposed to have trust. That’s one of the biggest parts of a relationship. But. He broke my trust.

Time progressed and it seemed like we were doing better. There were small hiccups here and there, but I looked over them. We were in love, at least that’s what we thought. It was time for our one year anniversary. We were okay. He had not done anything for a while. We were content. But. Come to find out he was going behind my back yet again. This time it was something I was strongly against because I was allergic. He had started smoking and vaping behind my back. I found it on his phone. He had been texting someone (who he swore to me he had stopped texting) about vaping and smoking. I confronted him on it. He told me “He just thinks I have that stuff.” I am not stupid. I saw the messages. I told him to stop lying to me. He got mad and slammed his foot on the floor and screamed at me. Storming out. I had friends and co-stars around who thought he had just put his hands on me. I reassured them that he did not and went to follow him outside. My director reassured me and I explained to her what was going on. She calmed me down.

My boyfriend came back inside. I confronted him once more, but away from everyone else. He owned up to what he was doing. He told me it was, once again, partly my fault. He told me I did not engage him enough. He was bored of me. But he still loved me. He had done so much that my anger was not as ferocious as before. I was disappointed. He was crying, but I felt numb. So much had happened in the past that I was not surprised anymore. I was upset, a little angry, but mostly numb. I yelled. He hugged me. I felt nothing anymore. I forgave him once more. I went on like nothing happened. We had been together for a year. I was not just going to throw that away. It was stupid of me to stay. But I always stayed.

We spent the next of our year together. I worked with him at a firework stand for the 4th. We spent almost all our time together. But I could not help but feel like I was growing angry inside. I would sometimes look at him and not feel anything. I was not attracted to him. I felt like I was beginning to hate him. But I stayed. But my mental health began to grow worse.

It was bad. I was always angry. I took everything out on him. I will own up to that. He made me feel like I needed to. He made me feel like he deserved it. He had done so many things to me. Cheating, lying, manipulating, he had done it all. It was bad.

I began to grow less and less fond of him. He made me hate him and myself. I knew what I was doing to him was wrong. I also knew what he was doing was wrong too. He abused me. But I also abused him. Our abuse was going both ways. It may have never been physical, but our constant fights. His lashing out. My paranoia. His cheating. My obsession. It all began adding up more and more. It was not a romantic relationship anymore. It was staying together because we were both too scared to leave. Or for that matter, we both believed we were in love. Maybe that was love. He and I had grown up with not so perfect representations of what a healthy relationship was. My mom was constantly picking fights with my dad because her mental health was not (and still is not) the best (something she has still yet to have checked out). He grew up with an abusive father who constantly belittled him. His mother died when he was five, so he had no representation of a healthy relationship in his home either. So, to us, this all seemed normal. It was far from that.

I broke up with him in October. We were doing good at that point. But I had been telling myself it was only time before something else happened. I loved him. We had been together for almost two years. But I was falling out of love. We were on Facetime and I told him I thought we needed to break up for real this time. He was confused. He asked me why and I explained to him what was happening. He told me that he wished I did not want that. I told him we would be in limbo about it for a week to see how we felt afterward. I thought I missed him for that week. But I did not. I felt free. I felt like I was not sick anymore. I felt like I was not being held down. I told him I did not want to loose him completely from my life. I told him that we could try to be friends. So we did. But not a day did not go by that he did not confess his love for me and tell me how beautiful I was. I did not want this. I wanted him to be my friend. Not the boy who constantly pawned over me. I told him I needed him to stop messaging me. He did not want to. I asked and asked, until I could not ask anymore. I unadded him on all social media. Blocking him on sites such as this one.

I took months after that to love myself a little better. I had good friends. Theatre helped get my mind off things. My friends were happy I finally left. They told me they wished I had done it sooner. Some people were surprised. They asked me why. I told them I had been wanting to for a while, but could never bring myself to do it. I had spent a lot of time thinking about it before making the decision to leave. More time than I should have. But it takes different people different amount of time to do things. My time just happened to be longer than others. He still had some of my things in his possession of which I needed back. I told him I would stop by after practice and pick them up. I was scared to go alone. I really was. It had been a while since I had seen him in person. So, I took my (now) best friend with me. I had planned on taking her home that night anyway, so it was a simple way of having someone with me as a safety precaution. We pulled up to the place he worked and I messaged him that I was outside. He came out and looked disgusted to see that it was not just me, This did not bother me. My safety was my priority. He handed my things, but did not go back inside.

He fell to his knees at my window and asked me why I wanted to leave. I was embarrassed. I did not want this to be the interaction that was going to happen. I wanted to get my things and leave. He was begging. Begging me to take him back. I told him I did not want that.

He told me that things had gotten better between us. He told me he would be different this time. He told me he would do anything to have me back. He told me I was all he ever wanted. He told me he loved me. He told me how much time we had put into this and how it was silly to throw it away so fast and sudden. Which may have been true, but I did not feel the same way.

I told him he needed to move on. This was not healthy. I told him I was not interested in being romantically involved with him. He did not take this well. He screamed at me, telling me he would never move on. He stormed off and punched the wall outside of the building. He proceeded inside. Angry with me. It made me feel bad. I felt like I had hurt him. But that’s part of it. Part of moving past abuse may being upsetting people. He was not actually hurt. He was upset because he did not get his way. I know that now. That all those times he was upset and made me feel bad for wanting something different than him, it was because he was not getting his way. Not because he cared about me.

From that night on, I have only spoke to him twice. Both times to check on him. He sometimes texts my friends “checking on me.” He texted my best friend asking how I was. She told him I was doing great, telling him she and I were getting closer. He told her he just wanted me to be okay. I believe he was just checking to see if I was moving on. I was. Happily moving on. My mental health was slowly improving. I was talking to new people and getting myself out there. I was changing with my growth. It was making me happy. I was starting to like my life. I was making friends and talking to all sorts of people, who before I was not allowed to talk to because of him. I was happier than before. And that was one of the most important things.

Of course, my world was not perfect. Around Holiday season I fell into a deep depression. I was lonely. Sad. This was the time of year to be hanging out with the person you love. But at the same time, I felt numb. I could not feel joy anymore. I could not feel anything. I was empty. I thought I missed him, but I only missed the idea of him. Because I did not miss the abuse we both shared, but I did miss having someone to talk to every night. I missed seeing someone every day. I missed having a partner. But I still closed myself off. I did not want to let anyone in. I was texting someone (my now boyfriend) at the time. But anytime I thought of it furthering, I got frustrated with my thoughts. I got mad at myself for thinking anyone could love me. I did not deserve love. Who was I to deserve love? Every relationship I had failed. I was always the one to leave. But it was because all I did was push people away. I told myself I was crazy. Delusional. Pathetic. This was one of the lowest moments in my life. Suicide lingered over my head almost every night. I was alone and thought I should be alone forever. Lowest moment, by far.

This relationship took a tole on me. It made me not trust people. I still do not trust people. It made me paranoid of everyone around me. I cannot trust someone out of fear of them using me. I feel like everyone in the world is out to get me. I sometimes have nightmares. My past haunts me, but I would not undo it. It made me into a smart person who is better equipped to deal with trauma. Smart enough to (sometimes) tell if all someone is doing is using me. I still struggle with trust issues quite often. I struggle to let people in. I struggle to let people know about my problems. I grew accustom to holding all my feelings inside and not letting anyone know what is wrong. I am growing. Learning. Allowing more people to love me. Allowing myself to love other people. It has been a real struggle for me. But I am doing better.

It has been over half a year since leaving the abuse. I am doing better. I am in love with someone who does not abuse me. Someone who actually cares about me. He and I are happy. I have never been as happy as I am now. He does everything in his power to make me know I love him. He is amazing. I could not ask for more.

I am telling you all this to help you know that you do not owe anyone anything. You do not owe your partner sex. You do not owe them every waking second of your day. All you owe them is faith. Being faithful to the person you are with. If cheating ever crosses your mind, maybe it’s time to rethink your relationship. It’s better to leave someone than cheat on them. Be the bigger person and own up to your thoughts. You can never come back from cheating. It will forever taint someone’s image of you. If you are being abused, please be strong. I know how hard it is to leave. But your health and safety are more important than any relationship. Please take care of yourself. You are the only one of you out there. Remember that.

Remember, I am always here to talk. I will help anyone who needs it. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. It’s not weakness to ask for help. It’s quite possibly one of the strongest things you can do.

If you stuck around until the ending, thank you. I appreciate you reading. Thank you for stopping by.

~ Love, Hunter.

#hunter mumbles #steven universe #malachite #story time #my story #past #relationships #abuse #awareness

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myheartissetinmotion · 5 years

Text

all my thoughts watching 1992 Newsies for the first time in 4 years

Buckle your seatbelts this is a lot longer than I intended

- this music still means so much to me

- YAAAAAS SLAY PATRICK’S MOM why wasn’t this in the stage musical

- Elmer is so frikkin adorable

- look at them goooooooo

- ugh I love these bois

- C R U T C H Y

- I just can’t get over the feather in Oscar’s hat

- ENTER THE JACOBSES WOOOOOOOOOOOO

- loving these instrumentals and harmonies

- LES WITH A TINY SWORD okay I love him

- I feel like I’ve seen Wiesel in something before

- “not like last time” “uh-huh” RACE WHAT AN ICON HAHAHA

- “must be from brooklyn” SPOKE TOO SOON ABOUT RACE BEING AN ABSOLUTE ICON

- Davey I love you

- LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES

- that look in Crutchy’s eyes when he says “ya learn from the best” is Priceless

- okay one glimpse of someone who may or may not look sorta like Katherine

- Where. Is. Hannah.

- “now, when I created the World-” *eye roll* haha love this guy

- *dramatic disney villain music*

- sTILL NO SIGN OF HANNAH

- 57 rounds of boxing oof

- is that Snyder? that’s probably Snyder

- yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyep

- JACK WHAT DID YOU DO oh wait nope false alarm he’s fine

- “WAIT TILL I GET YOU BACK TO THE REFUUUUUUGE” good to know Snyder hasn’t lost his flair for drama

- “well you have a way of improving the truth” okay I see what all you Javid people mean now

- THAT’S MEDDA?!?!?!?!

- Larkson? wonder why they changed it

- Les I love you

- “oh, you’re good” okay she’s okay

- MEDDA SWEETIE I KNOW IT’S THE ORIGINAL BUT WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU??!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!

- WHAT EVEN IS THIS SONG I’m very uncomfortable

- OH HIS PARENTS ARE OUT WEST IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW that’s really cool wonder why they cut that

- ooh we actually get to meet the whole Jacobs family!!!!!

- SARAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- those Knowing Looks TM between the Jacobs parents

- Les...sweetie...

- why is my head blaring “tonight” from west side story...the scenes looks so similar

- oh wow Santa Fe comes a lot earlier and THE FAMILY ASPECT UGH so good

- “ain’t you glad nobody’s waitin up for you” Jack sweetie aaaaaaaa!!!

- so this guy is totally cool with the fact that a random boy is singing on his wagon

- oh okay there’s a hat now?

- y e e t

- I’m not sure if we know enough about Jack to feel enough sympathy for him at this point, but it’s a short movie so

- so THIS is the dance break y’all have been talking about

- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

- P R I C E L E S S

- he just. steals a horse

- and it all comes back to the family aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!

- the instrumentals, lovely as usual

- that was a Ride

- still no Hannah.

- “dghdghdghdghdghdghdghdghdghdhgdgh” -the distinguished Joseph Pulitzer

- so they’re just giving Hannah’s lines to this guy. I like this guy but still bitter about The Severe Lack Of Hannah

- We Are All Love Mush

- “s w e l l” in case you didn’t know, I. LOVE. CRUTCHY.

- Les being the first one to agree with the strike and holding up his lil wooden sword- AAAAAAAAAAAAA

- oh boy here we go

- from what I’m seeing Boots is important WHERE IS HE BROADWAY I WANT ANSWERS

- this singing. wow. okay. cool.

- Davey just walking around them like “okay is this what we’re doing? musical numbers every day? right here in the street?”

- yas get those turns

- is this Denton? I feel like this might be Denton

- Jack honey that’s not how you pronounce it (I. Love. This. Movie.)

- okay Javids I can see where you’re coming from this is Really Something

- CALLED IT THAT’S DENTON

- “he has to!” *thrown out of door* That’s movies for ya

- okay lET LES HAVE THE LINE

- “so...is the newsie strike important? it all depends on you.” I like him. Give him a Watch What Happens come on disney I want a Denton song

- wow nice zoom-out this is so 90s I love it

- SPOT CONLON THERE HE IS WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- @ disney on broadway: Where. Is. Boots.

- that slingshot tho

- WHY DID THEY CUT THIS SCEEEEEEEEEEEEENE

- Davey you’re doing amazing sweetie

- okay he’s wearing The Hat again

- OPE IT’S THE SEIZE THE DAY INTRO HERE WE GOOOOOOOO

- Davey getting into the Dramatics TM

- jumpy bois

- HE DID THE LEG THING

- okay we’ve still got a few backflips and jump splits

- RACE HAS A HARMONICA?!?!?!?! love that for him

- Denton just kind of taking notes about their revolutionary dance number

- ooh here come the scabs I’m so ready for the monologue-wait where’s the monologue

- WHERE’S THE MONOLOGUE

- ok so it just breaks into a fight? what happened to “we’re all in this together”?

- yas tip that wagon just like in actual history! rip those papers! woooooo!

- oh no here come the bulls

- I’M NOT READY

- CRUTCHY NO

- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- WHY ARE YOU STILL WEARING THE HAT

- HOW ARE YOU EMOTIONALLY STABLE THIS IS YOUR BEST FRIEND

- ominous musiiiiiiiiiic

- wow this is...quite a plan

- OMG WE ACTUALLY GET TO SEE THE REFUGE

- “Heya Dave, how ya doin?” I LOVE HIM.

- look at his faaaaaaaaaaaaaace

- he doesn’t want anyone carrying him? tell that to livesies Albert

- CRUTCHY SAVING THE DAY AGAIN

- well yeah of course they’re not going to “just go away”

- “done with once and for all” heh heh

- THOSE H A R M O N I E S I love a capella

- yas you go drum kid

- oh boy it’s dance break time

- *t w i r l*

- I love them

- oh boy it’s the scabs

- Davey...honey...you tried

- uh oh someone has chains this can’t be good

- OSCAR STILL HAS THE FEATHER

- IS THAT BROOKLYN

- LOOK AT THEM POPPING UP

- HAHAHAHAHA ICONIC SO ICONIC

- slingshots!!!!!!

- Spot you’re doing amazing sweetie

- y e e t

- Those fake punch sounds tho

- YES JACK TEAR THAT NEWSPAPER YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL

- I love the picture this is so ugh I just love it

- oooooh I can feel it coming, KONY is coming

- “you’re famous you get anything you want! that’s what’s so great about NY!” HAHA RACE I’ve said it before I’ll say it again WHAT AN ICON

- so Jack is here for KONY, this is new (well for me at least)

- DENTON APPRECIATION LET’S GO

- “and payin’ for lunch” R A C E

- the “dead or dreamin’” bit is still just so awesome

- TAP DANCING WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- this is just so filled with joy I’m in love with this movie

- CEILING FAN TWIRL=ICONIC

- this guy just “okay kids lovely musical number please leave”

- CRUTCHY SWEETIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING

- “how was your supper” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- “hey, that’s Jack” Crutchy...sweetie...no....wait no wAIT NO WAIT NO

- SWEETHEART NO THAT VOICE CRACK ON “goodbye” I HAVE SO MANY EMOTIONS UGH

- Race steppin up to save the day

- what. an. icon.

- THE REACTION TO “is he dangerous” UGH I LOVE HIM

- ooh nice fire escape shot

- SARAH HAS RETURNED

- WE STAN A QUEEN

- okay romantic subplot time I can see where this is going

- the way he leans against the window awwww

- wow these are...very typical gender roles

- she’s so pretty I can’t

- “there’s nothing for me to stay for is there” She. Is. Standing. Right. There. Whatareyoudoing

- “I’m not sayin it should matter to you" are you though “I’m just sayin...does it? matter?” okay AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWW

- this pulitzer isn’t half as dramatic, he’s not quite showing the Actual Scary Capitalist, he’s more Typical Disney Villain

- MEDDA WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU

- oh there’s the don’t come a knockin melody

- they’re all dressed the same like a little gang of evil capitalists

- Davey looks so done I love him

- “what are we supposed to do, kiss em?” RACE IS SUCH AN ICON UGH

- wow they really shuffled the plot around

- hERE’S the monologue!

- Medda what’s happening

- WHAT IS HAPPENING

- I love their fan freak-outs in the audience

- is Sarah the only person that doesn’t know the song

- wHERE DID THE SWING COME FROM

- so extra

- Denton are you planning something

- YES HE IS

- “as in SNIDE? smile, sir” Denton is the greatest

- RACE NO

- Medda come on you’re a dancer you’ve got to be stronger than that

- uh oh

- just y e e t up to the box seats

- STOP HURTING THEM

- that was the fakest of fake punches I’ve ever seen

- Dramatic Slo-Mo TM

-I’LL NEVER LET GO JACK

- “the grounds of Brooklyn” SPOT OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU

- HEY JUDGE YOU NEED TO STOP THEY WERE PEACEFULLY ASSEMBLING SO UH SHUT UP

- Denton to the rescue once again

- I actually don’t know how this is going to go

- wait his parents aren’t actually in Santa Fe????

- davey’s face aaaa

- this is heartbreaking

- “a useful and productive life” NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- SNYDER YOU JERK

- LEMME AT HIM

- Denton why are you smiling what are you doing

- you don’t tell a huge group of kids that their story isn’t important you just don’t

- come on Denton we trusted you I mean I get it but still

- poor Davey

- omg he crumpled it up right in front of Denton? ooooof

- LES HONEY

- JACK?!?!?! WHAT’S HAPPENING

- is this where the bribe and everything comes in?

- that screen swipe tho

- so I’m guessing this is Pulitzer’s mansion or something?

- DAVEY YES

- Pulitzer what are you wearing

- the way the statue is positioned to be shooting at him-nice touch

- it’s villain monologue time

- okay uh he wasn’t talking that time

- he’s not actually looking Jack in the eye?

- yes Jack

- ooooooooooooooooh the suspense

- Dramatic Villain Look

- it’s not a disney movie without a banister slide

- so THIS is the alleyway scene

- OH WOW YEAH I GET IT

- even the music wow

- oh Sad Reprise time

- “you’re the only light that’s guidin me today” *crutchy appears* yeah that was intentional

- Crutchy’s face....

- this is Heartbreaking

- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- Wiesel’s face makes this 8000 times worse

- BLINK’S ANGER

- WIESEL YOU NEED TO STOP

- I CAN’T BEAR THIS

- oh no...dAVEY OH NO NO NO NO NO

- I CAN’T BEAR IT

- DAVEY’S SPEECH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- I AM NOT OKAY

- JACK NO DON’T SAY THAT THEY GAVE YOU EVERYTHING

- YOU REALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT FAMILY IS DO YOU

- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- “we don’t need you!” this is Real Pain

- “never!” DAVEY I LOVE YOU

- Les sweetie you’re so trusting and they’re still trying to protect your feelings ugh I love

- Jacobs Family Antics for the win

- so he just leaves

- I WISH WE HAD SEEN MORE OF HOW IT AFFECTED HIM IN THE MUSICAL

- WHICHEVER DELANCY THAT IS STOP NO STOP

- at least the other stopped him

- DELANCYS YOU NEED TO STOP NO STOP STOP STOP

- STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP

- yes Sarah punch him

- NO NO NO NO NO NO

- oh god here come the brass knuckles

- Jack finally coming to his senses

- it’s about freakin time

- “remember Crutchy?” *bash* ICONIC

- “no, smart.” Jack I love you but you really don’t see how important your newsie family is do you

- Denton spilling the tea

- he shushes Sarah but they’re gonna have a musical number soon yep makes total sense

- wait the whole song is in their heads? MUSICAL TELEKINESIS

- once and for all will always be a bop

- “just hope I get to thank him for it someday” LOVE

- YAS THROW THOSE PAPES

- Y E ��E T

- yes boys hold that long note as you dramatically pan across a brick wall

- so this is Roosevelt

- so this is where Blush comes from

- it’s just. really good music

- LES HONEY I LOVE THE REPRISE

- RACE I LOVE YOU

- what’s up with these bike people

- everyone knows the words now apparently

- beautiful chord

- what an epic, triumphant feeling this must have been

- THERE’S SO MANY OF THEM

- “and such awful language” glad that’s in there

- but you didn’t break him now didja

- so THERE’S WHERE THE LAMP THING CAME FROM HAHAHAHAHAHA

- so you really think yelling “go home” is going to change everything

- shouting match ftw

- “we only use the best, Joe, so I just wanted to say: thanks again” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LOVE

- what’s he whispering to Les-wait AWWWWWWWWW

- WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- WE WON YALL

- this is such a Disney movie I love it

- WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- wait now what

- is this what I think it is

- “you don’t have to run. not anymore” I officially love Denton

- okay the “blessed children” melody playing while kids are freed is Poetic Cinema

- IT IS WHAT I THINK IT IS

- HE’S BACK YALL

- CRUTCHYYYYYYYYYYYYY

- still not used to that spelling btw

- “share what you got in common” CRUTCHY I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF

- almost makes you feel bad for snyder. key word: ALMOST. hahaha

- “wait who comes walkin in” OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HERE WE GO

- JACK’S FACE HAHA I LOVE IT

- “that’s roosevelt?” Race I love you

- “so, uh..could he...drop me at the trainyards?” Jack. Old buddy. Old pal. What

- his face shaking teddy’s hand and the music slkdfjlshgoeibnclfboeifvl

- what’s happening he’s just riding away?!?!?!

- THE JACOBSES

- THEIR FACES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- im heartbreak

- and jack smiling so big okay Big Sad

- LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES

- LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES

- love how they’re playing like it’s the end of the movie and by love I mean endless angst

- You know that part in the sound of music when they’re trying to sing but it’s just Not The Same without Maria? Yeah that’s this

- Davey’s lil smile ugh I love him

- the music is building Jack is coming back I can Feel It

- Les reacting! aaaa! this has become a Les Appreciation Post

- Denton’s reaction!

- “besides, I got family here” HIS FACE AND DAVEY’S FACE

- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- okay Javids I DEFINITELY UNDERSTAND

- Les just beaming up at him AAAAAAAAA

- THAT LITTLE SMILE. THAT ICONIC LINE. DAVEY YOU’RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE

- THE SPITSHAKE

- CHARACTER. DEVELOPMENT.

- SARAH

- okay gotta admit this is REALLY FREAKIN CUTE

- LES HUGGING THEM

- of cOURSE SPOT IS IN THE CARRIAGE HAHA KING OF BROOKLYN INDEED

- look at them go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- Y E E T

- I LOVE THEM

- did someone in the crowd just say “it’s crazy”

- YES ICONIC HEEL CLICK KID

- well, guys and gals and nonbinary pals, this was A Ride

- thank you for joining me on this journey

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missjackil · 5 years

Text

My 14x13 Opinion

Lebanon The 300th Episode

I am so proud of this episode and so blown away by how awesome these last 4 episodes have been! Might be an unpopular opinion guys but I really like this season! Sure its had some duds like Optimism and The Scar (Though The Scar had a great broment) but I thought we’d be getting Leader!Sam this season but we have emotionally wrecked!Sam instead, and Im here for that! Needless to say I LOVED this episode, I was so pleased with pretty much everything and I have no big complaints, so lets have at it! I enjoyed the lightness of the beginning, and getting a look at the town. Im so pleased they FINALLY noted that Lebanon KS is the geographical center of the country! So the boys can get anywhere in the country within a day and a half. Its kinda weird though that Lebanon seems to have 3 different post offices. The one from Something About Mary, the one from The Spear, and now this one. LOL thats no big deal so lets move along.

It was funny that the dude in the pawn shop committed suicide by Winchester, which of course is trying to, or successfully killing one gets you killed by the other, and Dean acknowledges that they all talk too much LOL.

The kids talking about the rumors about the boys was fun but I really wasnt impressed by “cool chick” Max. I liked the boy in the hat though, he was great. Stealing Baby is also suicide by Winchester but Sam and Dean dont go around killing teenagers so, they got lucky.

I was amuzed by the ghost of John Wayne Gacey clown, and Dean being all “You love serial killers but hate clowns!” and Sam being like “I get it Dean” but Im really glad they didnt make Sam act like he was scared like the other times before. It just wouldnt have fit well into this episode I dont think. Saving Dean is more urgent than a clown fear right?

Moving on to the meat, and this was as meaty as an episode can get! Dad comes because Dean makes a wish. It seems Dean’s desire to have his family together is more of a desire than getting ole Mike out of his head, and thats really pretty sweet. Dad recognizes the boys right away, which is cool especially since Sam looks NOTHING like he did back in 05, let alone 03 but John says “What happened to you?” I reckon they aged 15+ yrs Pops!

The boys give Dad the nutshell version of their lives over shots of whiskey, because, how else could you do it? But man, John’s face when he hears Mary’s voice was amazing! And I dont even like Mary but, good lord if she didnt nail these scenes! My hear crumbled, their reunion kiss was completely believable even though we never saw them kiss on the show before. I saw some of you whine that John didnt ask permission first... really? I could see if they were gonna have sex, but when does anyone on TV ever ask to kiss someone?? Not very often. It was by far the most romantic thing Ive ever seen on this show,

Like typical Winchesters, Dean is sucked into whats right before him and Sam is worried about the big picture. But Sam doesnt lean too hard on Dean about it, lets all have the nice family dinner we’ve never had.

While compiling a shopping list with Mom, Dean leaves Sam alone with Dad. This scene was .... WOW... so well written and brilliantly acted. I had been wondering how Sam and John would hash things out and this was so much better than I invisioned. Its so in character for the Sam we have watched grow over the last 14 years to get over the bad and focus on the good, because those you love can be taken away in a heartbeat and being left with hard feelings is the worst. All he can think of is seeing Dad dead on the floor and he never got to say goodbye. and he never got to smooth things over. Sams emotions were raw and real! Jared really let Sam feel it, all the regret and anger and loneliness, melts away and turns into “but you loved us.... and thats enough” It was so refreshing to get so much emotional POV from Sam. Something we;ve gotten more of this season than we ever have. It hurts like a mother... but its worth it.

After the heart shattering talk, Sam composes himself and tells Dean hes right. This was a good thing even if its jut temporary. He asks Dean if he wants company for shopping, and this is like Sam wanting to hold on to his rock (Dean). This is precious.

The boys leave Mom and Dad alone, and go shopping. Now we discover that the timeline has shifted and they have alternate selves. Dean is a wanted criminal and Sam, omg lol Sam is flaming TED talking douchebag that wears turtlenecks, loves Kale, doesnt drink coffee, and doesnt see the need for hobbies or family. But, I gotta say hes lovely in glasses 😎

This inevitably means that not only will Mom disappear, but the boys wont have the relationship they do, and we know, thats a fate worse than the universe exploding. Meanwhile we get a guest appearance by Zachariah and Cas, and Cas is back to S4-ish Cas and possibly even more of a dick. Sam and Dean find them as theyre about to kill the teenagers from earlier and save them. Cas of course doesnt know them from Adam but Zach does. A fight ensues and I just have to state very clearly that Dean went after cas with the angel blade with no second thoughts. Zach attacks Sam and tries to kill him, but Sam kills him instead. Now thats poetic to have been killed by both Winchesters at different times!

Now Cas is trying to kil Sam, which as we know, never goes over well with Dean, but Cas really nails Sam HARD in the face and Sam spews blood all over! That was pretty graphic and dramatic! Well full strength douchebag angel or not, Dean doesnt let you beat on Sam. so heattacks Cas, and Cas is about to kill Dean. There is no “Cas its me!! Fight this!! I love you!!” like all the hellers wanted and predicted LMAO instead Sam writes a sigil with his blood and zaps Cas away.

Back at home, yet another highly emotional scene as Sam tells Mom why they have to let Dad go... she would just fade away and they would become their “other” selves. Mary cries real tears. and Sam overflows again. God my heart!! Dean talks to Dad and Dad is more than willing to lay his life down for Mom. They all sit solomly at the dinner table. Oddly enough Sam is the only one eating, and Im sure theres meta in there somewhere.... all I can think of at the moment is that hes distracting himself from the painful slence, and hes the only one who never really had Winchester Surprise. John decides to lighten the mood and be grateful for this time, and they all follow suit. And it was glorious!! My boys laughing and eating and enjoying themselves with mom and dad, I just dont know what words to give this scene!

Afterwards, Sam and Dean are washing dishes together #husbros and they briefly discuss keeping it the way it is. I mean really.... Mom may disappear and they wont be insanely co-dependent, but Michael wont be in Dean’s head anymore, because nothing leading up to it would have ever happened. Dean says hes good with who he is, and hes good with who Sam is, and hes just too old to want to change it.

The farewell scene was nothing less than earth shattering painful. Dean was surprisingly calm and stoic, though he had many tears. It was as if on purpose, he let Sam and Mom have all the emotions. John hugs his sons one last time. and tells them he’s so proud of them, Poor Sam is gutted. He cant even pretend he isnt crying. Dad tells them he loves them. Dean says he loves him too. Sam cant get words out so he wipes his face and nods. In a beautiful paralell from the old days when John told Dean “Take care of Sammy” and Dean answers “I always do” John says “Take care of each other” and Sam answers “We always do”😭😭😭😭😭😭John takes Mary’s hand and Sam in obvious pain crushes the pearl and Dad fades away. He wakes up in Baby back in 2003 believing he had a good dream.

Now we have to wait a freakin month for the next episode. But Ill be ok. I think I need a break from all the emotions of the last several episodes because the next couple will probably be less dramatic. This is ok, if every episode was this emotional, even that would get old fast. We only have 7 episodes left and I dont want to rush to the end of the season for a freakin 6 month hiatus!! AGGGHHHHH!!

Overall I am in love with this episode. It may have moved itself into first place but it has at least tied. This episode definitely met and exceeded my expectations, and last week I thought it wouldnt be able to beat that one. Im so proud of SPN, the writers, and the cast of this episode Ill give them all a standing ovation 👏👏👏👏👍💖 I think its abundantly clear now that Dabb DOES care about the brother bond and doesnt give a rats ass about dean/cas in fact it looks as if the next few episodes might be Dean lite... but we never really know till we watch the episodes.

In conclusion. on a scale from Bloodlines to Who We Are, Lebanon is a 10. Well done show.... well done! Now onward to the 400th episode!!

#14x13 spoilers #spn 300 spoilers #best episode ever

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speciallymary · 5 years

Text

Autoimmune disorders- Alopecia and Underactive Thyroid: Friends/Enemies Since Forever

I'm on the rollercoaster of trying to love myself while Alopecia is in complete control and deciding how fast new bald spots are popping up. I want to tell my story.

When I was in preschool, I started showing signs of thinning hair, but my mom didn't take much notice because I was constantly growing it back relatively quickly. She did notice that parts of my scalp were extra tender, and when messed with enough, caused redness and tiny bits of swelling to occur. She chalked it up to me being rough with my hair and her braiding my hair a little tight (which was never the case in reality).

Kindergarten: I started to complain of always being hot, being so incredibly tired, and quarter size bald spots start popping up. This is when my mom takes notice and starts bringing it up with doctors. Doctors say I may have a slow metabolism, causing my tiredness, I was a little bit bigger than most kids my age (but definitely NOT fat when looking back at my flat stomach and not touching thighs), so I retain heat easier. The doctor said I could be pulling my hair without my mom knowing, and said to come back for my next yearly checkup with concerns if it gets worse.

1st grade: the exhaustion hits me like a truck. I can barely make it through a full day of school without falling asleep in class. As soon as I get home, I sleep until I need to wake up the next morning to go to the babysitter's house. Most of the time, I sleep through dinner and breakfast, leaving only lunch as my actual meal of the day. My teacher, nurse, and mom come together and make a plan, I take a 20 minute nap towards the end of the day if I need it, the class gets more time to do homework in class, and I only am graded on the work I complete, even if I don't actually finish assignments. My dad was still alive at this time, and did not like that I was asleep all the time, but no matter what they did to wake me, it never worked. He then dubbed me his Sleep Beauty. My mom only recently told me that the school started questioning if I was being hurt outside of school, and apparently did involve a caseworker, in which I was interviewed during a play therapy session (which I don't remember) and my mom had medical records sent to show that the doctor knew the symptoms I was having and that they weren't from abuse.

2nd grade: The year my doctor realizes my diagnosis of Alopecia, but knows that something else is going on and refers me to a specialist, refusing to see me as he didn't feel qualified for my case since I was so young. This is when I was diagnosed. I met with a team of specialists from all over my state at a Children's Hospital an hour away from my hometown. They immediately know what it is what they walk in the room, but require blood testing to back up the diagnosis of Underactive Thyroid, which would take a few days after the visit to receive. They then tell me that my Alopecia isn't a stand alone diagnosis, and that I don't have a primary diagnosis with a secondary diagnosis. My alopecia is stand alone, but also entwined with my underactive thyroid. They hoped that the alopecia would only last a year, and that if they got my underactive thyroid under control, that it would help reverse the effects of the alopecia. I got to meet 3 endocrinologists in the state, and fell in love with the one that worked in the hospital that the meeting took place in. We made our first appointment with her, were given a wide variety of pamphlets, and sent on our way. The specialists did make one mistake, though. They thought my alopecia had just popped up, but I had it for at least 2 years at this point, which they would later realize when their theoretical year ended. This was the year that I lost A LOT of hair. I had to cut my long, straight locks to a short bob cut to help my hair look fuller. This was when I started asking questions about my hair dying, what an autoimmune disorder was, and if I would be able to beat it, whatever it was. This was also the first time I got to break a school rule: by wearing hats in school. My mom met with my principal and teacher, and I was allowed to wear a hat in school and would be encouraged to wear one outside during recess and outdoor activities to protect the fragile skin on my head. By the end of the year, I didn't have much hair left, but I had my baseball hats and bandanas, so I was okay. This was also when my class/school was told of my diagnosis with my mom and I's consent, because it was easier to explain it once and know what slightly new expectations there were.

3rd grade: This was the year I started the process of getting on the right medication and medication levels. It was determined that I was not a candidate for the shots in the scalp, which would have been once a month for me, and the only alternative at the time for me was medication. I had never had to take pills before, so my mom had to get creative in crushing pills for my crying self to be able to take them. This was also when I lost all my hair the first time. I felt a little naked sometimes, but I always had a color coordinated bandana or hat at the ready, so it was an easy comfort blanket at the time. My teacher spent a lot of one-on-one time with me, helping me with anxiety, self-esteem, and body perception issues. She also kept me inside when UV rays were high, because even through a light hat, my skin would still burn at times. 2nd and 3rd grade were the years that I learned to write out feelings through assignments for the first time, any way I could.

4th grade was a big year, in a good and very bad way. I gained about half my hair back, then lost my father in March of that school year. I almost instantly lost all of my hair from the stress and grief, but my teacher, class, and school were so incredibly supportive. I missed a week and a day of school, for the passing, viewing, and funeral of my dad. My teacher was also my first male teacher, and helped me learn to express myself to people other than women and feel comfortable doing it. He instantly became a pseudo-uncle for me, and helped me through the few bouts of grief that I experienced in his room. This was also the year we went on a camping trip to conduct science projects. An anonymous donor funded my trip, and all of the supplies I needed for the trip, as no one wanted me to miss out on the BIG school field trip because of the passing of my dad. I got to learn what family meant in every sense, and knew I was in a supportive community. This was also when my friends started answering what my diagnosis was for me whenever someone asked. It was uncomfy for me to say the same thing over and over whenever someone new met me at school, so my friends took over, and whole classes talked about what it was so that they didn't have to ask me, which I greatly appreciated.

5th grade was rough for me emotionally, and to be honest, I don't remember much past my emotional breakdowns, frequent visits to the counseling office, and regularly getting sick from medication changes that required me to miss a lot of school. A lot of good things happened that year, and my teacher (another male), was super supportive, and was okay with me randomly crying in class, or darting out to cry in a stall for a few minutes before returning to class with freshly dabbed eyes. He owned a floral and decoration shop downtown at the time, and ended up getting a stuffed animal from his store that I particularly loved and having everyone sign a card from the store to give to me during Feb/March in the school year, the first anniversary of my dad's death, which was one of the hardest. This was also the year that I became a library ambassador, so I got to spend lunch/recess in the library reading to kindergarten kids and helping them learn to love reading as much as me! (Tbh, I honestly don't remember how much hair I had that year, but I know I did have some growth, but lost it at least once during the school year). This was also when my endocrinologist realized I was not going to outgrow the Alopecia, and changed her perspective on my diagnosis. I was moved from a mild-moderate diagnosis to moderate-severe, which I have stayed ever since.

6th grade: I lost my hair yet again, but also became eligible for my first wig. This was also the first year that new kids arrived in my grade and didn't know what I had or what it was about, but everyone in my grade and below knew, but wanted me to be the ones to tell them. We actually gained the new classmate(s) the first week I had my new wig, and my teacher had to miss that week, so they couldn't help with making those connections as well. This was also the first time I lost friends because of my hair loss, as when I told these new people, they were shocked, but processed it and continued to be friends with me for a while before telling me that they didn't want to be around me anymore because I was bald and "had holes in my head." Most of my class didn't support them in these actions, but continued to be friends with them because of other connections and similarities. This was also when I had anxiety of going to middle school and having to explain my hair situation all over again and being judged. My teacher had a lot of conversations with me about this worry, and it was noted in my records so that I had "proper supports" in middle school.

7th grade: the year from hell. I was bullied from the few friends I had from elementary school, as I went to the other middle school than most of my elementary school friends. I had a plan ready, but knew that I would do it at school if I did it, because my mom had just gotten comfortable in living at home without dad for the first time that year. My exhaustion got worse, I lost a lot of my hair growth from the summer, and my symptoms were all over the place no matter the medication changes due to the amount of stress and anxiety I was under going to and attending school. Classes and the library were my escape, as those bullies were not in the honors classes that I was, and were mostly too loud for the library in the morning and during lunch. I had break downs every morning going into school, and my mom would have to drag me into the wrong door of the building to meet the principal and nurse at the doors, then have me wait with staff until the counselor came in to talk with me about what was going on. No one believed me that I was being bullied, and all thought I was grieving my dad's passing, but the librarian offered me a position in opening and closing the library every day with her and joining her during lunch hour after I finished my lunch. This is what saved me, and this kick started my hair growing back, and my stress levels dropping, which helped with my underactive thyroid.

8th grade: I had a whole new group of friends through the connections the librarian made naturally with me, and I was so happy and supported. A lot of personal stuff also happened in middle school, so this helped tremendously in me living a better life as a fully functional student with natural supports built in. My teachers were aware of my diagnosis and my loss at this point, and whenever I struggled, would encourage me to write out my feelings, walk me to the counselor personally, or have me complete assignments in the library with my now pseudo-aunt, the librarian. I also gained most of my hair back, and for the first time, it was shirley temple curly! Everyone was astounded, and the endocrinologist was excited at how much growth I had in one year's time, as no one in the midwest had seen that in cases similar to mine.

High school: my hair came and went a few times more, but I never hid anything except maybe wear a hat outside during marching band. I had a completely new set of friends because of band, and fell in love with the peer tutoring program in the special education department, so I had support in all forms. I did have some bad autoimmune flareups in which I got very, very sick very, very quickly. But living with a chronic illness, I was sick most of the time and wouldn't say anything about it because it was/is my normal. So the nurse knew that if I went to her office, something was really wrong, and most of the time ended up with me leaving school immedoately for a hospital or emergency doctor's visit. I wore my hair all natural from my memory, and I only grew my hair all of high school, except for one cut (which was one bigger trim of about 6 inches taken off in total). My senior year, I did have a little more thinning in my hair overall, and was afraid I'd lose it all at the end of high school, but my hair never had the straw-like consistency that it did in my younger years whenever I lost all my hair.

Freshman year: I grew it out more, to almost my butt, when I chopped it off to about collar bone length during spring break. That was so freeing to feel like I could do things with my hair again.

Sophomore year: I had my hair cut again right before I moved back to school for band, and the hairstylist was one I had never been to before but at the same studio I went to, and cut it to my ears. For a while, I was worried that it was too short. Everyone told me it would grow out, but I'm not guaranteed the time for it to do that, and explained that to people. The time I had in high school and the start of college was a gift, but the doctors always tell me that if I lose my hair, there is no guarantee I will get it back at all. Looking back at my band pictures, I was cute as hell, and didn't have to put my hair up under my shako, just pin back the front part of my hair to keep it out of my face.

Junior year to now: oh boy, I noticed spots popping up that I hadn't had in a really long time. I was always used to having at least 2 small spots now, but the spots started popping up all over, have joined into bigger spots, and now I currently have about half my hair with about 9 spots taking my hair away at different rates. It'll grow rapidly in some areas then randomly slow down. I am actually getting married next year, and I want my hair so I can have a fun hairdo, but I'm preparing for being patchy, in which I have agreements with people I trust that if it gets to a point in which I can't cover everything anymore, I'll shave it and do alternative gemstones on my head in place of a veil and hairdo for the wedding. I did all natural in childhood, and looking back at the pictures, I don't have the confidence to do long patches of hair again. I'm trying to accept the loss of hair again, but also love myself in my current state, as I may never be in this spot ever again in my hair journey.

I have been completely baby-butt bald, peach fuzz bald, patchy halos bald, full head of hair with minimal spots, and a fullish head of hair with major spots. My hair has been perfectly pin straight, wavy, curly as heck, and for the past several years, an exact 50/50 of either wavy and curly or straight and curly. The split is literally one half is on texture, and the other half is a different texture.

My doctors have told me I would never get my eyelashes or eyebrows back again, and that's mostly true. I have very faint eyebrows that are very thin that may or may not randomly grow in more full/darken in color, and I actually prefer no eyebrows for myself, as I actually raise my eyebrows in all pictures as a natural response to open my eyes more, and I don't look as crazy compared to penciled in eyebrows doing the same reaction in a picture.

I have never had and mostly never will have hair on my armpits, and I constantly surprise myself in how much hair some people have on their armpits, but support all the armhairs or lack their of!

I only recently learned how to shave my legs, because up until then, I would mostly lose my leg hair in the summers due to more exposure to elements and gain more of it back in the winters.

I have "thyroid syndrome of the eyes" in which my underactive thyroid affects my eyesight in not only blurriness, but also double vision and other visual impairments that have just recently finally started to be corrected with added prisms in all directions to my glasses that I had to first start wearing in 7th grade when I suddenly couldnt see much at all.

I get migraines and headaches easily, mainly because of the part of the brain that works with the thyroid and when my medicine is off, it affects that part of my head. I also have been way more light, sound, and motion sensitive in the past couple of years, but much more compounded in the last year.

But it is who I am, and whenever anyone asks me if I ever want to take my autoimmune disorders away, I confidently say no. Why? Because it makes me who I am today. I matured and still mature within myself which helps me accept others' differences as well. I connect with the individuals I work with in the special needs community that my coworkers, peers, and typical individuals cannot. I'm upfront with those I interact with about my disorders once we have an established connection and I feel safe telling them the information.

Yes, I do have problems with anxiety, trust, self-esteem, and body impressions of myself. But my alopecia and underactive thyroid know when to kick me in the pants a little bit to get me to realize different life lessons. It's made my heart so much bigger because of my struggles that I've gone through, am going through, and will go through.

I've been on the same medication since 3rd grade, with varying levels of prescription. But my tolerance is high, yet I can't change prescriptions due to me having horrific reactions to the other medications. There will most likely come a day in which my thyroid will stop working and I will have to have surgety to remove it and be on hormonal medication the rest of my life, but I'm always going to be on some sort of hormonal medication for the rest of my life anyway.

Also, I've struggled with getting the help I needed medically with anxiety and depression and being on a hormonal medication. My doctors wouldn't put me on any depression or anxiety medicine until I started college because they didn't want to effect my thyroid medication. So I have been in and out of counseling almost all of my life, and most likely will continue throughout my life when I need it. Now, I have the help I need with supportive and safe network, a counseling program, and the medicine I need to be my best. I also have connections to social workers and other specialists that can make immediate arrangements if my needs are not met ever again.

This isn't even my full story, but the thread of consciousness that I wanted to share right now about my autoimmune disorders. Thanks for reading all of it!

#alopecia #underactive thyroid #hypothyroidism #autoimmune disorder #mental illness #life story #my life #no armpit hair #prefer no eyebrows #stream of conscience #stream of conscious writing #stream of thought

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alifeexamined-blog1 · 5 years

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At 105 days, a meditation on sobriety

I've been reflecting on 2019 thus far, and how it's been one of the hardest but one of the most important years of my adult life.

2019 has brought some new lows. I've struggled with suicidal ideation in a way that I haven't since I was a teenager in the immediate aftermath of rape and sexual abuse. And if anything, it's been worse this time, because I would keep thinking, "I’m in my 30′s. Over a decade has passed; my life should be better by now." At this point, I was supposed to have grown out of what happened to me in my youth. I wasn't supposed to be stuck with that trauma's ongoing effects, or trapped in cycles of being re-traumatized by the emotionally abusive relationships that followed. (Because even as survivors of abuse, we often gravitate to the familiar. Control and the diminishment of self by the partners who should care for us is what we know, so it’s easy to mistake that treatment for love. It’s emotional Stockholm Syndrome. And it makes any attempt at healing exponentially harder, because every new relationship like that--and I’ve been in several--opens old wounds over again.)

I spent the early months of 2019 hysterical with anxiety. I fantasized about suicide. I planned how I'd do it. I’m a writer, so I planned what I might say in my suicide note. (I’ll admit that the part of me who used to like Linkin Park reveled a bit in the emo-ness of this exercise.) It wasn't that I wanted to die. That was the worst part: I very much wanted life. And not just life, a good life, suffused with new and exciting experiences. I had this cliche vision of the “Eat Pray Love” version of myself. Like something out of an Instagram post, this Hannah stood laughing on top of a Colorado mountain that she’d just spent all day climbing, silhouetted against blue sky in a big hat and a sports bra, water bottle in one hand, a joint in the other, glowing with self-actualization. Hannah in a state of hippie nirvana. Hannah breathing in nature, no cares or worries. Just picture-perfect privilege. A juvenile aspiration--like most Internet-inspired fantasies, all shine and little substance--but if I visualized it long enough, I could almost feel the sunshine on my back.

But feeling that sunshine was becoming more and more impossible. I'd lost hope. I remember crying on the phone to my mom, "I feel like I have no future." I remember I said that over and over and over again. The simple fact of *being me* was so painful that it seemed unendurable. "It hurts to exist," I also recall saying. It’s a feeling I don’t know how to describe to someone who hasn’t experienced it (and I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone). I didn't see another way out of that pain and I felt sapped of the considerable energy required to fight it. There was little left except pangs of failure and fear and self-hatred, and the compulsion to escape by any means possible. At 31, I felt old.

All the while, I kept up appearances. If I couldn’t fool myself any more, at least maybe I could fool others into thinking that I was fine. I went to work and tried to stay engaged and personable. I attempted to maintain my social life, even my dating life (though the man I’d been sleeping with lost interest after my facade of the fun-loving, bohemian girl in the sunshine became too exhausting to maintain, and he caught a glimpse of my actual vulnerability). I posted selfies on social media, shopped for new clothes, got my hair done. All the trappings of functional suburban normalcy. But inside I was giving up on the idea that I could access real joy and relief again. When I’d try to smile at people, my face felt like rubber stretched into an unnatural shape. The muscles didn’t want to move that way any more.

And so my drinking, which had already fallen into unhealthy patterns--more and more evenings when I fell asleep fully clothed and still wearing my shoes after too many glasses of Chardonnay--escalated. And escalated some more. In a fucked-up way, it was my weapon against the inevitability of ending it all. It was a last-ditch attempt to break free from the splitting awfulness of being in my own brain. Anything to mitigate the stress before the stress took over completely. If I got enough alcohol inside me, I could feel warm and light, at least for a while. If I was lucky, I could even feel a flicker of sexiness, a fleeting chemical charisma. Late one night around this time, a stranger at a bar said she could tell I have "a beautiful soul." I cried thinking about it later, wishing that I could see myself this way. Beautiful was the opposite of how I felt. Even getting out of bed took a grim amount of effort.

It's only been 3 months and a few days since my last drink, but already what I can see is that the day I decided to quit alcohol was the day I chose life. Quitting drinking was a choice to believe that there *is* hope. That I do have a future, that I am a person worth investing in. I've wondered, too, if the incident that propelled me to stop drinking was my subconscious acting on my suicidal feelings. My "rock bottom" was that I drove home blackout drunk from a bar and crashed my car. That could have killed me. Worse, it could have killed someone else. I was lucky that neither of those things happened. (No one was hurt and my car was fine, apart from a few scrapes and scratches.) Despite the deep, deep shame I felt--and still feel--about having taken this dangerous action, it scared me into realizing that I still had fight in me after all. The thought that I could've died filled me with panic, not longing. That made me determined to piece myself back together, no matter how much more hurt I'd have to get through to do it.

And it does hurt. I've moved through the intervening days feeling like a weird exposed nerve. My emotions are heightened and all over the place. Not to mention that I feel a gnawing restlessness, stripped as I now am of the usual outlet for my self-destructive impulses. It’s hard not to feel manic when you’re struggling for peace against ongoing sensations of frustrated hedonism. The other day I was walking in the woods and first I was smiling because the landscape was beautiful and then there were tears in my eyes because I felt so privileged to be there experiencing it. Profound awe and gratitude, mingled with profound sadness and a loneliness that pervaded every part of my body. And that's probably how it's going to be for a while.

Quitting drinking hasn't fixed everything overnight. I still often feel at war with myself. I push against the weight of constant anguish just trying to fulfill my basic responsibilities. But sobriety has reminded me that I have agency and that it isn't impossible that I will one day be able to accept myself. Not an Instagrammable, FOMO-inducing, obvious form of self-acceptance, but a quiet feeling of confidence that’s deep and unshakable. Because if I can do this hard thing and stick with it, what else can’t I do? I've been rewatching early episodes of "Game of Thrones," and there are those scenes in the first season where Arya's taking sword-fighting lessons with the Bravosi dude and he tells her, "What do we say to the god of death? Not today."

Deciding to get sober--and, shortly thereafter, seeking professional help to improve my mental health--has been my way of saying to death: "Not today."

#sobriety #soberlife #alcoholabuse #mentalhealth #rapesurvivor #one day at a time #quittingdrinking #ptsdsurvivor #ptsdlife #suicide #suicidalideation #recovery #alcohol recovery #mentalhealthrecovery #anxiety #depression #staystrong #stay fit #stayandwander

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taaroko · 6 years

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Post-IW MCU Rewatch: Captain America: Civil War

Time for a bunch of in-fighting!

Was there any significance to those code words?

Howard and Maria. :(

Freaking Runlow.

I read something about how they’re all being very bad at undercover, sitting around in sunglasses and hats. They’re being like actors undercover from paparazzi, not low-profile spies. Whoops.

Runlow’s team is kinda lucky the rubble from that crash didn’t block their entrance.

This is some top notch fighting from both Cap and Sam. Sam’s wings are super versatile.

Whee, Steve getting a telekinetic boost from Wanda!

Ohh, it’s Nat who used the motorcycle as a projectile in this one. Okay. I thought it happened at least twice.

Heeeey Cap’s shield is half covered in soot. Symbolism.

FREAKING RUNLOW.

That blast was either going to kill everyone in the square or the people in that building. If it had been the former, it wouldn’t have been a big international crisis.

Aged-down Tony is easily the best of that kind of special effect we’ve ever seen. *suppresses memories of CG Leia*

I think that seminar was the first we've seen of the "philanthropist" part of billionaire genius playboy philanthropist. (Donating a collection of modern art to the Boy Scouts is too weird to count.)

Hi Dean Pelton.

Awkward actress recycling! But it was worth it. She’s so good as Mariah.

Vision’s social graces are so funny.

Uggggggh General Ross. Who is now Secretary of State.

Man that footage would’ve made Bruce so sad.

“For the last four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision.” Wait does that mean it’s been four years since Winter Soldier? This timeline is a freaking mess.

I know where Thor and Banner are!

Okay, Zimo talks about painstakingly decrypting the Hydra files Nat leaked on the internet, but did he start doing that before Ultron or after? How long has it been since Ultron?

Tony’s face.

What makes this movie so good is that both Tony and Steve have very good points and multiple movies of backstory that brought them to those positions. The Tony of IM1 would’ve been anti-Accords, and the Steve from the ‘40s would’ve been pro-Accords, but here they are now. And the Accords were very inevitable after Ultron.

Noooo Peggy.

Headcanon: the non-Steve pall-bearers were Peggy’s son and grandsons.

“Plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say ‘No. You move.’”

I love that Nat’s priority is sticking together as a team, but she does get Steve’s position. (I mean obviously; she defects to his team halfway through.) Steve’s friendships with Nat and Sam are so wonderful.

Hey T’Challa!

Does the actor who plays T’Chaka have a glass eye? *internet research* Holy crap, he does. This is from John Kani’s IMDB page: Kani lost his left eye during a beating by South African police after returning home from a Broadway production of "Sizwe Banzi Is Dead", which was critical of Apartheid. He survived after being left for dead and subsequently won a 1975 Tony Award for his performance.

They did a really good job introducing T’Challa, and his arc in this movie is excellent.

Dangit Steve and Sharon would’ve kissed if Sam hadn’t interrupted.

More hats and sunglasses. You guys look real suspicious wearing hats and sunglasses INDOORS, especially when you start passing files around.

Man, Bucky just wants to buy some plums. Also, so cool that Seb got to go home to Romania and speak his native language for this bit.

Isn’t it easier to shoot out the lock than all three sets of hinges?

Bucky just came here to buy some plums and honestly he’s feeling so attacked right now.

So much multi-storey falling! I know these guys are all tougher than normal people but it’s still very stressful to watch!

These movies are always doing ridiculously cool things with motorcycles.

Rhodey makes a pretty good enforcer.

Vis and Wanda are adorable. But the conversation about the Mind Stone is really painful now.

The heck?! Tony thinks Wanda is unstable enough to cause another “incident” just by going to the store? Do Tony and Wanda still dislike each other or something? I guess they never reconciled over the whole thing where his tech killed her parents and she used her powers against him.

A fancy pen is not a convincing argument, Tony.

Steve was so ready to be thrilled for Tony if he and Pepper were gonna have a baby!

Tony just called Wanda a weapon of mass destruction. Either he’s playing devil’s advocate or he’s being really unsympathetic right now.

Bucky! Plug your ears and go LALALALALA!

I like how every time someone does the sleeper activation codes, he walks around Bucky in a circle. Is that part of it or just a cool filming thing?

Aaaaargh that elevator shaft fall.

Tony’s face when Bucky fires his gun into his glove.

Nat’s signature move is useless against Bucky.

RECOGNIZE YOU FROM WHEN?! The mission he foiled, or something else? I must know. Please answer this question, Black Widow movie.

Okay. The helicopter thing. It does not make sense. It should’ve just lifted Steve right off the ground. It is capable of carrying several passengers. One dude hanging onto it when there’s only a single occupant would not weigh it down. The part where he holds onto the railing and keeps it from flying away does work, though.

Heeeeey the scene with Bucky’s arm in the clamp is the exact midpoint of the movie. I don’t know why I find that interesting, but suddenly I very much want to analyze the significance of these moments. This one is a major turning point. The revelation of other Winter Soldiers. Team Cap now has an urgent mission.

Tony has an arc reactor scar!

HI PETER! *hug attacks him*

I love every single second of Peter’s intro scene.

“It’s a long story. I was—” “Lordy! Can you even see in these!” Bahaha, Tony cut off even a conversation of origin story.

Okay, the moment Tony leaned forward while Peter was talking obliquely about great power and responsibility. That was when he became emotionally invested in this kid. They’re both motivated by a sense of guilt and obligation.

Wanda and Clint’s methods for getting past Vision makes their team lose a bit of high ground.

Steve and Sharon’s kiss could’ve been handled less like an afterthought, but the reason I’m still cool with it is Sam and Bucky’s reactions.

How’d these three big dudes end up in a little VW Beetle anyway?

Hahaha, each team has a fanboy on it. Scott on Team Cap and Peter on Team Iron Man.

“Thinks for thanking of me!”

Yessss. Airport fight.

Um, why did Tony not even pause when Cap mentioned the other five Winter Soldiers?

Oh Peter I love you so much. And I love that Tom has this rivalry with Anthony and Seb in all the behind the scenes stuff.

“He also said I should go for your legs.” Man this is almost a vine reference.

Scott in Tony’s suit is hilarious.

Scott’s reaction to becoming Giant-Man is probably the single greatest two seconds in the movie.

Man, Clint just wants to make new friends, but T’Challa isn’t interested in this Avenger nonsense.

More tasing!

100%, Peter is trolling these geezers by pretending he’s not a gigantic Star Wars nerd.

It took me several watches to realize that when Scott says “Does anyone have any orange slices,” he’s making a reference to little league sports, and how the moms bring orange slices for after the games.

Tony went to check on Peter even though they hadn’t caught Steve and Bucky yet!

Rhodey’s fall is horrific. And the way they frame it so that you only see the ground when he hits it. Agonizing.

Part of me thinks Rhodey should’ve died right there, but there is rather a lot of precedent for falls not being fatal if you’re in an Iron Man suit. And if he’d died, I don’t think they ever would’ve been able to get past this split. Getting kinda paralyzed is an acceptable compromise.

“Are you incapable of letting go of your ego for one goddamn second?” Okay that is a really interesting line. Tony is being pretty egotistical about the concept of surrendering accountability to the UN. He has been rather bad at considering alternatives. Admittedly, he’s on the clock, and then worse people will go after his friends, but he’s allowing for zero nuance here. He knows these people. He knows they don’t do things without good reasons. Steve was right that you can’t let accidents stop you from doing the right thing. Tony is letting it cripple him.

Tony is practically on Team Cap at this point, with the secretly flying after him and all.

Hahaha, Nat has a labeled gun rack. And Bucky is using her guns!

I’m freaking pissed at the trailer for this movie. It would have been a very good twist that instead of going to Siberia to fight five more Winter Soldiers, they were walking into a trap where the in-fighting was about to become far more personal. But I didn’t get to experience that twist, because the trailer includes shots of Tony fighting Bucky and Steve in this location. That trailer made me stop watching trailers entirely for over a year. I do think trailers can be good so you know at least the type of movie you’re about to see, but they should not give away stuff like this. I think Marvel has gotten better at that since then.

Okay, so it’s been over a year since Ultron.

Green is not a flaw in blue eyes, jerk. It’s cool.

Surveillance cameras don’t usually have sound. But oh boy this is devastating.

This moment. Tony coming apart and attacking Bucky. This is exactly the same thing that Peter Quill does to Thanos. This is the reason Tony figures out what Peter’s about to do before he does it and tries to get him to stop and think. But he knows pretty well that there’s no stopping and thinking in a situation like this.

Zimo is a lot like Frank Castle, except that his family died as accidental collateral damage, not a targeted setup.

“The living are not done with you yet.” Such a great line.

“I could do this all day.” Tony has taken the role of the bully from the first one now.

I think for a second, Tony was legit afraid Steve was going to kill him. But Steve was never the one driven to that point. This still does not count as Steve having a dark side.

Okay, Steve dropping the shield was pretty much a concession. You don’t want me using the shield your dad made if my best friend killed him? Fair enough.

TONY STANK.

Tony trolling Secretary Ross will never stop being funny.

Okay, on the whole, while I sympathize more with Cap, I think I’m actually on Team Iron Man when it comes to the Accords. The Accords are an overcorrection of long-running problem. There should have been oversight this entire time, and I think the idea is that SHIELD was that oversight until Winter Soldier. Steve didn’t want to be the dupe of a corrupt system again, so he no longer tolerated oversight, but that really can’t be his call. How transparent are the Avengers being about their missions? He doesn’t run around saving people from street thugs, he does military-style operations all around the world. That’s not the kind of thing anyone should be able to make unilateral decisions about. He’s doing what Tony used to do in his solo films. But now that the PR has gotten bad enough and the novelty of superheroes has worn off, suddenly everyone realizes it’s not a great plan to let them run around unsupervised.

But Cap’s side of the argument is valid too. Superheroes save the world. Collateral damage is a much better outcome than what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been there. Obadiah would’ve continued supplying both sides of conflicts in the Middle East, stoking the fires of war for his own gain. Red Skull would’ve blown up most of the major cities in the US and taken over. Killian would’ve had the world on its knees with his scam. Malekith would’ve destroyed all the nine realms. Loki would’ve taken Earth. Hydra would’ve wiped out anyone who could challenge their reign of terror with Project Insight. Etc. Some of the villains rose up as consequences of the heroes (Ivan, Ultron, and Zimo, for instance), but most of the threats exist independent of the heroes’ actions, which is why we need heroes.

After how much I’ve loved Tony in all the movies so far (though he was a bit iffy in Ultron), I was really surprised by how many moments he has of being kind of a jerk in Civil War. But it doesn’t make me dislike him. This is his guilt complex on overdrive. And losing it over finding out about how his parents died is heartbreaking. But the most redeeming thing for him in the movie is Peter Parker. He recognized a similar guilt-based motivation in Peter while they talked, and in that moment, he became extremely protective of this kid. He brings him in because he knows he’s got a really handy method of incapacitating people without harming them. He’s not recklessly endangering a child, because he knows none of the Avengers will use lethal force. And his concern for Peter’s well-being is actually what costs him victory in the airport fight. He could’ve apprehended Steve and Bucky, but instead he had to make sure Peter was okay.

So...if Thor and Bruce had been in this. Thor wouldn’t be cool with being beholden to Midgardian governments. He cooperates as a courtesy, but he doesn’t actually answer to Earth authority. And I’m pretty sure he’d be very sympathetic to Steve about Bucky, given that it’s a rather similar situation to him and Loki. Bruce, on the other hand, has never felt confident about his ability to stay in control, and he was a major source of collateral damage in multiple countries in Ultron, not to mention the extra footage Ross showed the team. He’d probably think Bucky needs to be under guard for the same reason. I think he’d not only side with Tony but be relieved that Tony was on the side of the Accords. However, you really can’t have two powerhouses like Thor and Hulk in this fight. On their own, they could demolish the entire opposing team. The only option would be to keep them fighting each other the whole time, which would be kind of lame. Much better for them to have a gladiator battle on trash planet where no on else can steal their thunder. (I am not sorry.)

My mind is pretty much blown by how well the MCU has traveled the path from the first few movies to here, and from here to Infinity War. The Avengers have pretty much been getting broken down since Ultron. This was where they fell apart. Infinity War is the consequences of falling apart.

#captain america: civil war #captain america #iron mask #steve rogers #tony stark #mcu rewatch #infinity war spoilers #avengers

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ftb-writes · 3 years

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Happy 2021, everyone! Here's the story for 2020's Novel Writing November!

"Have a seat, stranger," the innkeep says. They pass their business partner a cleaned plate and motion to the busy dining room. "If you can find one," they chuckle. "It's become quite the watering hole; my brother and I never expected to make it this far! We have a fire, some stew that's been simmering all day, some crusty loaves fresh out the oven; if you'd like a drink, my brother can give you a proper list of vintages."

A laugh echoes across the room, and many more voices join in. The stranger watches the innkeep and their business partner -- their brother, the stranger supposes -- as the two's eyes soften and warm. These two clearly care very much for every patron. "That'll be Adramelech. He and Pahliah just got back from their honeymoon, and Adra is still a bit shocked it's real."

"I don't have any money," the stranger explains. "I am but a humble storyteller; if you don't mind, I just need a place to rest for the night."

"Nonsense," the brother snorts. "We deal in stories here, stranger. You'll get a meal and a room for a story or two."

"A storyteller?" a patron calls. "Come, friend, sit by the fire, spin us a tale!"

"Well, if it's alright," the storyteller concedes. "But I warn you, some of my stories have a bite."

"You wouldn't be alone in that," the innkeep chuckles.

"Someone pull up a chair for the newcomer! Come, friend, you can share our table," the patron shouts.

The table is already occupied by seven other people -- one of whom is perched in another's lap. "Hello, there," greets the percher, the one who had apparently been calling the storyteller. "Tyrel! Bandit extraordinaire! This is my Troupe! And Brail," he finishes with a giggle, smooching the man whose lap he's occupying. "Come, friend, tell a story, and the first rounds on me!"

The storyteller settles into a chair, takes a mug from a smiling wendigo, and clears her throat.

There was once a shopkeeper who sold potions, teas, and candles. He was a worshipper of the old gods, and his wares often carried favors of them.

A man in the corner wearing an amulet with the likeness of Odin perks up, clearly interested in the mention of a fellow.

One day, he was brewing a potion for Eostra, and a sudden caller startled him so badly, he spilled the potion onto himself! It would take three days for the potion to wear off, and the whole time, the shopkeeper was sprouting saplings from wooden floorboards--

The man in the corner loudly clears his own throat, looking uncomfortable. "Where did you hear this tale, stranger?"

"What's wrong, Zelvin?" A woman with a small dragon in her lap snickers. "Hit a bit close to home?"

"Isabelle, that's exactly the reason I bought a new bell for my shop door. Eostra potions are rough."

"Did anybody else notice her story was in a completely different color than her normal speaking text," the innkeep's brother asks them quietly.

"I suddenly have a bad feeling," the innkeep agrees. "You don't think--"

"What about a different story," a woman with a full cast on her leg suggests. She's covered in half-healed cuts and bruises, and the man next to her has been mothering her this entire time.

"Tell us a story about a dragon!" This, from a blue-scaled dragon with about twenty-five children and an old knight tucked under her wings. The knight rolls his eyes fondly.

"A dragon?" The storyteller frowns, thinking. "I know a few stories about dragons."

"Wonderful!" The blue-scaled dragon passes over a bowl of soup and a hunk of hearty bread.

It is very dark when Bynelvin pokes his large head out of the cave. Dawn is still some hours off, and Markus shifts quietly in his sleep, already searching, unconsciously, for the warmth the dragon offers. Bynelvin feels the tug of sleep still -- much too early to be awake, and his new mate curled alone under a wool blanket. Now that is a title he never thought to attach to a human before this little arrangement. 'Mate', yet Markus has proven himself worthy of it over the past few weeks, lavishing Bynelvin with gifts and affections.

In the farthest corner, two men, one with large arching horns and the other seemingly ordinary, share a confused glance. The horned one has his companion tucked into his side, protected from what little chill even the fire cannot completely stave off.

But Bynelvin knows his task -- secret as it may be -- is an important one. Even now, safe in the embrace of a dragon, Markus is plagued with night-terrors of the assault he suffered. Bynelvin's proud, draconic heart roars for vengeance, rages for Markus's slumber being disturbed by the memory that such cruelty exists in his little valley.

Bynelvin will burn the whole family of his mate's attacker if he must. Markus will be safe.

He silently takes to the sky. Bynelvin dares not leave his mate unattended for long -- not only because of the night-terrors; if another dragon were to come upon his lair, Markus alone -- Bynelvin did not wish to think about the outcome of such a scenario.

He swoops low over the small settlement that he has been lording over for centuries. The home is near the center of town, and Bynelvin is not surprised that most of the village stumble out, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, to greet him.

The two men in the far corner share another look, and the human styles more comfortably into his horned companion's side. "Did you really--?" the human begins to murmur in question.

"I will say," Bynelvin growls, towering over the villagers Markus had, until recently, lived amongst. "I never thought I would need to come down here and tell such short-lived beings to be kind to each other."

The humans are clearly confused, looking to each other with questions in their eyes.

"Oh, great Bynelvin," one of the elders begins, "what can we do for you?"

"Where is the village weaponsmith?" Bynelvin watches as murmurs spread, and a, frankly, massive man steps forward. He's nearly a head taller than the next tallest human Bynelvin's ever seen, and that had been a Berserker from the north. His shoulders are broad, his arms thick as tree trunks. Despite his size, he's nervously wringing his hat in his huge hands.

'Don't hurt Ralof!' Bynelvin remembers Markus crying when the dragon had rages that his mate had been hurt so. 'He doesn't know, and he's a kind and just man. Ralof couldn't hurt a fly! Well, physically, maybe, but emotionally?'

"Ralof, Markus speaks highly of you."

Bynelvin's words calm the smith immediately. "Oh, Markus is with you? Thank the gods. I've been worried. Kept an eye on him after that accident with his folks, so when he left in the middle of the night, I--" he stopped and swallowed. "He's safe?"

"No harm will come to him," Bynelvin assures. "However, he -- opened up to me a bit, after he realized I would not devour him. He had not meant to, but once the first part of it had come out, he told me everything."

Ralof's face softens. "Had something happened? Did someone hurt him?"

Bynelvin draws himself up and freezes the smith with a harsh smile. "Where is your eldest daughter, Ralof?"

The two men share a third look. The human appears rather upset, while the horned man smiles sheepishly.

"You said you'd left it alone!" the human hisses.

"I did!" the horned man whispers back. "After I threatened her a bit…"

"Honestly, Byn," the human sighs," you're lucky that I've realized how cute you are."

The horned man flushes. "Cute?"

"Another story!" the human calls, panicked.

There was, one day, a newly infected wendigo curled up against the toilet in a tiny apartment. Lyner hates the lack of research, the experimenting with food -- his husband's cooking is phenomenal, but it's hit or miss with what Lyner can and can't eat now. He can't begin to imagine how hard it is on Marshal -- they'd been married all of two months when Lyner was diagnosed, and it's only been three since.

Marshal is rubbing Lyner's back, making notes -- concise, in-depth notes in a little black notebook that's already had extra pages stuffed into it. Marshal has intimate patience, it seems, though Lyner has broken out and wreaked havoc four times already. He can see their wedding photos hung on the wall through the open bathroom door.

The diagnosis had taken everything from them, despite Doctor Ignaz and Chase trying as hard as they can to help. He and Marshal had sold their house, are 'wendigo-proofing' the dingy apartment. Lyner is shocked that he continues to wake up to Marshal next to him.

"Maybe we could try only cooking my portion of beef? Weird that you can still eat chicken cooked though…"

"Why," Lyner croaks, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"It might have something to do with poultry in general--" Marshal starts to say, scribbling.

"Why haven't you given up yet? I'm a monster now, Marshal."

His husband's gaze snaps up to him -- Marshal looks surprised at Lyner's outburst, and more than a bit hurt. "What do you mean?"

"Things like me--" Lyner has to stop to hurl up more of tonight's doomed dinner. "Things like me eat sweet guys like you."

"Do you want to eat me?" Marshal asks, innocent curiosity.

Lyner's stomach turns anew. "No!" ha snarls. "I love you!"

"And you would stay with me if you weren't a wendigo?"

"Yes, Marshal, what part of 'I love you'--"

"You don't regret loving me?"

The accusation hurts worse than a punch. "No!" Lyner cries.

"Now, Lyner, you remember what vows we spoke on our wedding day?" Marshal's voice has hardened; Lyner hasn't heard this tone from his husband in years, and he's ashamed to have caused it.

"Of course I do."

"In sickness and in health," Marshal reminds him anyway. "In life and in death. For richer or for poorer--"

"Forever," Lyner finishes. "Marshal…"

"I married you," Marshal tells him, "not knowing what the future held for us. You're it for me, Lyner, and I'm with you through thick and thin. Never dare imply I'd drop you like a bad penny now that you have a craving for human flesh. Have I made myself clear?"

Lyner whined quietly -- a relatively new sound for him to be able to make, but it makes Marshal laugh and lean into Lyner's shoulder to kiss his neck. "I'm sorry," Lyner whispered. "I think the wendigo thing might be messing with my head."

"We'll talk to Ignaz about it at your next appointment," Marshal murmurs back.

"Fuck, you're so good to me, sweetheart. I'm sorry this shit's screwing me up so bad." Lyner swallows. "I think I'm done hurling."

"Sickness and health, babe," Marshal chuckles. "Water?"

On the far wall, two men and a woman somberly raise their glasses and swig.

The storyteller once again clears her throat. "That's the last for tonight, everyone. But if someone buys me breakfast tomorrow, I may be persuaded to tell a few more."

Slowly, the other patrons trickle out, calling goodbyes and promises to see each other tomorrow. After a few minutes, it's just the storyteller, the innkeep, and the innkeep's brother.

"I'll be off to bed in a moment or two, but you go on, Dy. I'll finish up." The innkeep shoos him upstairs and approaches the storyteller. They sit in silence together in front of the fire for a minute.

"It's been a while since the first story we told," the storyteller finally says. "It was a fanfiction about your friends in third grade, wasn't it?"

"Gods, it was so bad," the innkeep groans. "I still have it, tucked away. An old friend you haven't seen in -- what's it been since we wrote it? Fourteen, fifteen years?"

"Almost sixteen, now," the storyteller corrects.

"Fuck, I'm getting old," the innkeep sighs. "Our first story. It's absolute shit, I don't know what happened to any of those people after we moved on. I've never re-read it."

The storyteller smiles. "You've come so far. But you know we both know why we don't revisit them. Because we wrote them as me."

The storyteller lowers her hood. When she blinks up at the innkeep, it's like the innkeep is looking in a mirror that de-ages the viewer -- a young girl with thick-lensed glasses in the height of her middle school years. "A little girl named Shelby who thought she was straight. But that's not the truth, and we both know that. We need to accept that."

"We -- I have," the innkeep says. "I have. I have. That wasn't me. That was you."

"I'm you," the storyteller tells them. That's what you need to accept. Those stories are just as much a part of you as the ones from tonight."

The storyteller silently hands the innkeep a beat-up, red, spiral-bound notebook. There's atrocious handwriting all over the cover, half-faded with age. The innkeep looks up at the storyteller; she's disappeared, leaving them alone with the notebook. The innkeep opens to a random page and winces.

As an answer, she kissed him --

The innkeep slams the notebook closed and shudders. They sit for a while, swallowing the surge of emotions and slowly, they re-open the notebook.

There's a soft puff of magic, and the innkeep looks up to see stacks upon stack of worn journals, loose pages, and fading notebooks covering the table next to them. A bright, orange sticky-note reads: 'They're yours. Even the bad ones. They're part of your story.'

The innkeep takes a deep breath and reads.

0 notes

unavenged-robin · 7 years

Note

I absolutely adore your DamiJon work and couldn't help but wonder if you're up for an angsty fic where Dami and Jon are on a mission together but a mishap happened and it looked like Damian died to save Jon. Jon was devastated because he was actually planning to confess/propose to Dami after that. Though Dami is not actually dead. Would have been more heartbreaking if the song You're my sunshine was playing at the back

First of all, thank you very much! :D I played a bit with the prompt and I ended up with a very long, very mushy story. I hope it’s something similar to what you were expecting :D Jon’s 16 here and Damian’s 19 and they’re both huge dorks.

Read on AO3

It’s a long, boring, frustrating mission. And Jon knows Damian’s hating it as much as he is, even if Robin’s never going to admit it out loud because he was the one who choose it, so complaining about it now in Damian’s brain would be like admitting to a mistake, and of course mistakes are a thing that only happens to others.

Jon sighs and flies around the decrepit building one more time, monitoring Damian’s position with his x-ray vision. Once established that the place was empty, Jon had let Damian explore the inside of the building by himself as a punishment for his pride, but now he’s getting bored with the wait.

From the outside the building is shabby just as much as its surroundings, and doesn’t reflect Jon’s expectations of a cool criminal lair at all. Then again, the guy to whom it belongs to is equally, if not more lame.

For a start, he calls himself the Travelling Thief, which is already flimsy enough on its own, in Jon’s humble opinion. Add to it a flashy glittery costume, a monocle and a top hat, and you have the most embarrassing Arsène Lupin copycat Jon’s ever seen in his life.

Worst thing is they’ve been chasing after this guy for almost three weeks now and discovering his hideout is their biggest accomplishment so far, even if Jon can’t begin to phantom how a loser like that had managed to play them for so long. And yet, here they are.

“I found the stolen goods”, Damian says over the comm - which are completely useless to someone with Jon’s powers, but Superman himself has told him not to bother with the Bats because there’s just no way to win some arguments with them.

“Any trace of your friend?”, Jon asks, lazily flying around to scan the neighborhood. There isn’t much to see there either, only abandoned warehouses and a playground that has probably seen his last child before Jon was even born.

“He’s not my friend”, Damian snaps at him. “He’s our case.”

“Whatever, Batboy.”

Damian grumbles some insults of choice, and then there is silence for a few minutes.

“Damn.”

Jon stops in midair and locates Damian again. He’s in the basement now, where the real headquarters of the Travelling Thief are supposed to be.

“Something wrong?”

“Silent alarm. Just activated it”, Damian explains through gritted teeth. “No way he’s coming back here now. We have to find another place to ambush him.”

“Great”, Jon sighs. “I’m going to get married and we will still be chasing after this guy, I know it. I’ll just go ahead and tell my mom to save a piece of cake for him. He’ll be a part of the family at that point.”

“Stop whining”, Damian snarls. “There are a lot of his preparatory files here, if we study them they’ll give us everything we need to catch him.”

That’s even worse news for Jon, and he groans internally.

“…are you telling me that this is how we are going to spend our weekend?”

Damian haughtily scoffs at him.

“Right, because you had better plans for it anyway.”

“As a matter of fact I have”, Jon retorts, glancing down at his phone as it starts beeping. Talk about timing, he thinks with a smile. “But since you obviously don’t, I suppose you can finish this one on your own? You know, call the police, make a copy of the files before they arrive and all of that? ‘Cause I’ve got a friend to meet.”

“Of course, I would never want to keep you from your social life, Kent”, Damian answers, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “I mean, it’s already lacking as it is.”

Jon rolls his eyes and simply ignores the bait. It’s a weak one anyway, compared to all the creative insults Damian’s thrown his way over the years.

“Sweet!”, he says instead, voice filled with not-so-fake cheerfulness. “See you later, Robin!”

“Whatever, Jonny boy.”

The last things he hears before sprinting towards the sky are Damian’s heavy sigh and the rustle of papers while he starts looking through the files.

He gets the call one hour later, while he’s in Metropolis, slurping down an ice cream and laughing with a bunch of school friends. He’s happy because his plans for the weekend are great and he just can’t wait to put them into practice.

Then his cellphone starts ringing and his father’s number comes up on the screen.

“Hey dad!”, Jon greets him, still in the middle of a laugh.

“Jonathan.”

That one word is enough to freeze Jon on his feet. He knows that tone, he knows that voice. Something’s wrong.

Really, really wrong.

The conversation lasts less than a minute, and Jon doesn’t understand his father’s words right away, but Clark says Damian and accident and you need to come back right now, so Jon runs and then he jumps and then he flies, and the whole time he feels like every inch of his insides is padded with cotton, and the only two words he can think about are Damian and accident. Damian. Accident.

Accident.

Damian.

There’s nothing left of the building he and Damian were checking out a little more than one hour ago.

Not even debris under which they can dig. There’s nothing.

Jon stands in midair, clouds of dust and ashes swirling his cape around him as he stares down at the giant, big, black hole on the ground without understanding.

“The explosion wiped out the whole area”, his father explains. “We don’t know what provoked it or where Robin was when it happened but-”

Superman is not talking to him. He’s talking to Damian’s family. Jon’s pretty sure none of them has yet noticed him hovering above them, which is surprising, but not really, because if they’re all here it means that they’re assuming the worst, and the worst is-

Jon lands a few feet from them, and still no one acknowledges him.

Batman is silent. So very silent. Nightwing’s yelling. Red Hood’s yelling too. Jon doesn’t understand if they’re yelling at each other or at someone else. Red Robin is silent too, but now he’s looking right at Jon with an intensity that even the cowl can’t hide. Again, Jon doesn’t understand.

So he approaches them, walking on wobbly feet.

“Where is Damian?”, he asks, and he realizes there’s anger in his voice only after the words roll out of his mouth. But he’s angry, yes. Because it’s ridiculous for them to be all here. If Damian’s injured someone should be with him. Who cares about the Travelling Thief, about their mission or the burned things? He knows that the bats are one big, freaky, emotionally stunted lot, but he also knows that underneath all of that they care, so why are they all here? Why did they leave Damian alone?

“Where is Damian?”, he asks again, louder and angrier, and everybody finally turn towards him.

There’s something on their faces. Under their masks. Jon recognizes it as he recognized his father’s urgence when he called his name over the phone.

And still, he doesn’t understand.

Refuses to.

But his scream broke the spell, and now everyone’s moving, reacting, ready to answer his question. Red Robin is the first to speak.

“Where is Damian?”, Tim repeats, voice half choked by a growl.

Jon focusses on him and Tim looks back with burning eyes, and Jon finally figures out the emotion behind his glare. It’s hatred. Pure and simple. And this much, at least, he can understand. Because it’s nothing new. Because he knows that Tim looks at him, looks at Superboy and doesn’t see Jon. He sees Kon. He sees his absence.

“Where is Damian? Where the hell were you!”, Tim yells, taking a step towards him. “Why weren’t you with him? You were supposed to protect him!”

And Jon’s never thought of himself as Damian’s protector before, not really, but again, he understands what Tim means. If he’d been with Damian, he would’ve shielded him with his body. This entire thing would’ve been solved with a burned shirt and maybe a few cuts instead of… this.

Jon feels sick.

“Where the hell were you?”, Tim asks again, almost but not quite yelling, cold rage dripping from his every word, and then Batman reaches out and grabs him by his shoulder, pulling him back.

“Enough”, Bruce growls.

It is enough, Jon realizes as he falls on his knees. It is enough for his brain to click and provide an answer to his question. He tastes the acid flavor of vomit in the back of his throat for the first time in years, before buckling forwards and spill the inside of his stomach on the ground, splattering both Batman’s and Red Robin’s boots with what used to be a double vanilla and chocolate ice cream mixed up with the remains of his last lunch.

He’s not sure about what time it is when he finds himself stumbling along the corridors of the Watchtower. He’s exhausted, though. They’ve been interrogating him for hours - and of course they were as gentle as they could’ve been, and they never called it an interrogation in the first place, but things are what they are, and as gentle as Bruce Wayne can try to be, he is the goddamn Batman, and at some point Jon broke up and started to cry, and from that moment on he doesn’t really remember much.

He’s sure he’s given them everything he knew about the Travelling Thief, but Damian had all the files about the case and Damian is-

Well.

He keeps walking for another undefined amount of time, until he turns a corner and unexpectedly finds Tim sitting cross-legged against a wall, unfocused eyes looking out the panoramic windows.

He’s still wearing his costume, but his domino lies forgotten at his feet, alongside his bo staff. He’s bathed in a deep red halo, and it takes Jon a moment to figure out it’s the sunset light covering him with a sanguine layer, and not some freaky figment of his own imagination drowning everything in blood.

Tim notices him but doesn’t say anything, so Jon walks towards him with heavy steps, then he stops, reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and drops two tickets into his lap. Tim blinks up at him, then he glances down at the tickets and picks them up to examine them closer.

“I went to get these”, Jon starts explaining, voice soft and careful, refusing to look at anywhere else than the floor. “There’s a concert this saturday, it’s a band Damian and I like a lot. It went sold out before I even realized they were in town, but a kid at my school managed to snatch a couple of tickets and agreed to give them to me, but I had to hurry, you know? Because there were other people who wanted ‘em and I… what I wanted was to ask Damian… I thought it could be…”

Tim’s laugh interrupts his rambling. Surprised, startled out of a justification he doesn’t even know if he should try to give, Jon looks up at him with a quizzical glare, but Tim just keeps laughing, and it’s a wet, pained, humorless laugh.

He only stops when he realizes Jon’s staring at him, then he sniffles and looks at him with a smile so sad it looks like his face is breaking.

“Two days ago Damian asked me to find him a couple of tickets for the same concert”, Tim explains. “And, I suspect, for the same reason.”

“Oh”, Jon says. And then, before he has even the time to ponder on why the hell he should care about the answer, he asks: “And did you get them?”

“Yes”, Tim’s smile breaks with a sob, and then there are tears on his face, and Jon’s cheeks feel pretty wet too. “Of course I did. Gave him hell for it, though.”

The last sentence is more out of Jon’s interpretation than anything, because Tim’s crying too hard now to be intelligible. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Jon slumps down on the ground beside him, and thinks about how Tim is the closest link he’s ever had to Kon, this amazing older brother he never got to meet. He wonders if Tim knows. Jon’s not sure he’ll ever care enough to tell him.

Right now he throws his arms around Tim’s neck, presses his face into Tim’s shoulder and cries as hard as he knows how, all of it while he pretends it’s his dead brother hugging him back instead of the very alive brother of his probably dead boyfriend.

No one uses the word dead.

Missing is how people refer to Damian in the following days, and Jon has a feeling that if anybody fucked up and accidentally used the word dead instead, they’d find themselves at the short end of one of the Bats’ temper.

No one uses the word boyfriend either, not to define Damian’s relationship to Jon when they talk about them. Which is kind of fair, since neither Damian or Jon ever got to use that word before. It’s all syntax anyway. Who cares.

To Jon is inconsequential.

He doesn’t speak of Damian at all.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to the almost forgotten but still familiar sounds of the countryside.

When he said he wanted to move back to their old house in Hamilton for a few days, his parents had begged him not to, but they didn’t really do anything to actually stop him from doing it anyway, probably because they understood more than anybody else the need of solitude for someone like him in a situation like this.

So his father had hugged his mother tight to his side and they both had kissed him on the forehead before letting him go. Jon was grateful to both of them.

He misses them now, while he lies in the dark of their old bedroom, but at the same time he’s glad to be alone, to not have to share his anger and his night terrors with anyone.

He gets up from the bed to open the window and let the cold air freeze the sweat running down his back, let it cool down his flushed face.

Outside only dark meadows already wet with dew, the rich smell of the earth in the summer, and a black sheet of sky dotted with stars.

He’s grown to love Metropolis for its own beauty, but nothing, nothing, can compare with this in eyes.

“Because this is home, Jonathan”, his father had said long time ago, when Jon was still heartbroken about the moving. “There’s never going to be something as beautiful as this is for you right now, and that’s okay. It’s good to have something beautiful to come back to.”

He was right, of course. Home is a beautiful thing. Even without your parents, and all your animals, and the smell of apple pie in the kitchen, and a once-upon-a-time little bat hanging upside down from the highest branch of the chestnut tree outside your bedroom. Home is good even when your head is empty of thoughts and your heart is heavy with regrets and you have run out of tears. Home is always home.

So Jon sits on the windowsill, bare feet dangling in the night, nose up to look at the stars, and he enjoys the emotions of feeling at home for a while.

It’s while he’s looking at the sky that he realizes: today is saturday. Today is the night of the concert.

Right now, in another universe, he’s standing in a large crowd, singing and jumping on his feet, Damian’s fingers wrapped around his own. They are both covered in sweat, and Damian’s pretending to be annoyed by all the people around them and complaining that the music’s too loud, but his lips taste of salt and illicit beer when Jon kisses him, and he’s smiling, he’s happy, they’re happy, and they have four tickets instead of two, since they were both too stubborn to ask first, so maybe Tim and Kon are with them, because why the hell not, honestly?

If there’s another universe, then let it be better than this one, let it be without mourning, without heartaches, without mistakes. Let it be without things left unsaid, without cowardice in the smallest things, without regrets. If there’s another universe, one that you can only see at night with closed eyes, then what the hell, let it be perfect.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you have food? Clean clothes? Toothpaste?”

Jon smiles into his pillow.

“Yes, mom, I promise I’m fine.”

He’s not fine, obviously. But Lois knows that. She’s just fussing a little bit without pushing too hard, just to remind Jon that she’s there, always.

“Bruce’s still looking”, she informs him gently. “So is your dad.”

Jon doesn’t say anything. Lois promptly cover the silence with news from his school. She’s not fretting about it because it will be over in less than a week anyway, and he’s not missing out on anything important, but Jon thinks she’s also trying to keep him grounded, to tell him without using those exact words that life goes on.

And Jon wants to say that he knows that. That he just wants to forget it for a little while.

Bruce’s still looking. So is your dad.

It’s been only three days.

Already three days.

After he closes the call he rolls on his side and goes right back to sleep.

He feels it coming, even in his sleep.

But it’s just that: a feeling, and Jon’s just too tired to actually care enough to get out of the bed.

The thing, however, doesn’t leave him much of a choice when it decides to come crashing down right into the living room’s windows. The sound of breaking glass is almost deafening in the silence of the night, and Jon’s on his feet before he even realizes to be awake.

Also, he knows he’s seen too many bad movies when he finds himself instinctively looking around the room for a baseball bat to wield against the intruders.

What the hell, Jonny boy, a voice that is not his own swears in his mind.

“What the hell indeed”, Jon mutters.

He doesn’t really need the lights more than he needs a baseball bat, but he turns them on anyway when he reaches the hallway. Whoever it is, be it a thief or a wandering animal, Jon doesn’t want to startle them, or give away too much about himself either, since he’s not wearing his costume. A nice growl should be enough to scare away anything or anyone in there anyway. Or so he thinks.

At first, it doesn’t make sense, maybe because he takes everything in in one instant: the crunching of the glass under his bare feet, the burning smell of something on fire, the cold wind coming in through the broken windows, the green glowing of a weird looking bike crashed into his couch, the two tangled figures in the middle of the room, the glimpses of red and purple under a black blanket, heavy breathing and two erratic heartbeats.

Then there is a short, choked moan, and one of the figures moves, propping themselves up on one elbow. The black and gold cape slips away and of course Jon already knew, he knew since the moment he heard his heartbeat, recognized it right away while he was still coming down the stairs because how could he not recognize it after all these years?, and yet his brain refused to formulate the thought, to lift the heavy fog of his mourning and allow him the hope, refused him the sheer reality of what he’s seeing right now until Damian raises his head and a green eye settles on Jon from behind the broken lens of his domino mask.

And he… smiles. He’s covered in blood and looks like he’s been dragged through hell and back, and yet, Damian looks at Jon and he smiles.

“Hey, Jonny boy.”

His voice is soft and scratchy and tired, but still somewhat amused, and Jon is at his side in less than an instant, pushing away the second figure from his back and barely realizing that it’s no other than their lame Traveling Thief, unconscious and showcasing a couple of bruises the size of Damian’s fists, but otherwise untouched. For now.

“Damian”, Jon allows himself to call his name while he helps him rolling on his back. His hands are shaking, his head is full of cotton again, and he doesn’t even have the time to realize he should be happy, because Damian is alive and here and alive, but Damian also doesn’t look good at all, and Jon needs to do something right now, and at the same time he’s thinking how and you bastard, and he doesn’t know what to do. “Just- just stay put, I’ll call my dad, our dads, or, or the hospital, I can carry you to the hospital right now, I can-”

A gloved hand encircles his wrist, but Jon barely feels the ruined rubber scratching against his skin. It’s the way Damian’s looking at him that makes him snap out of his ramblings.

“Don’t.”

Jon blinks, shifts on his knees and leans a little more towards Damian. His own heartbeat is frantic, compared to Damian’s slower one. It should be the other way around, Jon thinks, he should be the calm, collected one, he should be the one handling the situation better.

“Don’t what?”, he asks, and he feels stupid. He should just snatch Damian up and fly back to Gotham, he should scream for his father and he would be here in less than a minute, and he would know what to do, but Damian is here, Damian is alive, and his brain is still processing that information.

“Don’t call anyone. I’m fine, I’m-”, Damian coughs, and his face twists in pain and exhaustion. “I just need rest. Please. Don’t call anyone.”

Rest doesn’t fix cuts and dislocated shoulders on its own, that Jon knows of. But he looks over and over again and doesn’t find anything worse on Damian, nothing life-threatening, only dried off blood and little scratches.

He shifts again, and settles Damian’s head on his lap, brushing sweaty strands of hair out of his eyes.

How, Jon wants to ask. How are you here, why did it take so much for you to come back, where were you all this time.

(Where the hell were you?, Tim screams again into his mind, but now it’s not the moment for that.)

“They all believe you’re dead”, he tells him instead, because he has this funny feeling that Damian’s not understanding how serious this situation is. “Your father, your brothers, I can’t- Damian please, I need to call them, they need to know.”

The sound Damian makes in response is very similar to a scoff, but Jon can’t be sure of it. What he’s sure of, is that Damian’s relaxing into his arms, his expression softened, his eyelids already half-closed.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”, Jon repeats with a frown.

“Please?”

That’s always a weird word coming from Damian’s mouth. But it’s not the please, it’s the question mark at the end that really pulls at Jon’s heart. Because it sounds like begging, and Damian doesn’t beg. Ever.

“Okay”, he agrees mechanically. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

Batman is going to break his killing rule only for him, but okay. Because Damian asked. That’s what it matters right now. Damian is here, Damian is alive, and Damian is asking him for a favor that’s probably going to get Jon killed in at least four different ways by four different people, but okay. Tomorrow. Because apparently there’s going to be a tomorrow with Damian in it. Jon smiles.

Satisfied with his capitulation, Damian smiles back before his lashes flutter again and he starts falling down into a heavy slumber.

His face is covered in dust and sweat and blood crusts, his lips are dry and split, and yet that smile, as brief and tired and mocking as it is, still manages to be the most beautiful thing Jon’s ever seen. And that’s probably why he doesn’t even have the presence of mind to get angry at him like he maybe should. Instead he just tangles his fingers in Damian’s hair, presses their foreheads together, and keeps smiling.

The thought of moving Damian into a bed only occurs to him after half an hour or so, and only because he feels someone moving behind him. Incidentally, that’s also when Jon remembers that he and Damian are not alone in the room.

Careful not to disturb Damian, who’s still lying on the floor with his head settled on Jon’s lap, he turns towards the second figure and quickly assesses his conditions again. Everything considered, their thief is even in better shape than Damian is, which is not necessarily good for him at this point.

“If you are smart and you care about your well-being, then you’re going to be very quiet”, Jon says under his breath, as the man starts regain consciousness. “Try to run, try to attack us, and I’ll get mad. Very mad. You understand?”

Since the only two sources of light are the lamps in the hallway and the glowing bike currently crashed into his couch, the room is still dark enough for human eyes to be only barely able of distinguishing shapes from the shadows, so the man immediately turns towards them but he makes the mistake of not answering right away.

Jon’s eyes glow red and a hole the size of a finger appears just an inch to the right from the thief’s head.

“Do you understand?”, Jon repeats again.

This time the man is quick at nodding back.

“I’ll take him upstairs”, Jon explains without breaking eye contact, arms curling protectively around Damian’s body. “If you move even one finger, I’ll know. I’ll come back and I’ll hurt you.”

And despite Damian’s teasing, Jon’s apparently decent enough too at intimidating people, since the man looks like he’d stop breathing too, if he only could. Which is great. Because Jon means every word he’s just said.

“Good.”

Jon looks back at Damian’s face and sighs, knowing that he’s gonna pay for it one way or the other. Still, he moves one hand behind Damian’s back, the other under his knees, and he cradles Robin’s still form against his chest while he stands up.

Damian mutters something under his breath, but he doesn’t wake up, and out of some only-god-knows-for-how-long forgotten instinct, he mechanically moves to hook an arm around his neck, shifting until his face is pressed against Jon’s throat, so close that he can feel his breath warming up his cheek.

You were supposed to protect him, Tim had said, and it had taken Jon by surprise. Maybe because Damian had always been the oldest, the most confident, the one that usually knew (or was very good at pretending to know) what needed to be done to get them out of trouble, but whatever the reason, Jon had - stupidly enough - never thought of their partnership in terms of protecting one another. Helping, sure, supporting, of course, looking out for each other was such a given it never really needed to be spoken of, but protecting? It sounded weird back then.

But right now, while he climbs up the stairs to carry Damian into his bedroom, it also sounds very right.

Jon doesn’t know his way around the Robin’s suit very well, so he only removes the broken domino and the gauntlets before start working on Damian’s boots. It takes him ten minutes straight to undo the shoe laces alone, and then some time more to slip them off Damian’s feet. He has no idea on how Damian manages to change into his costume so fast when he has these traps to deal with on a daily basis.

Robin’s utility belt zaps him when Jon tries to untie it. Having run out of patience, he laser-eyes it back in retaliation. The entire costume is probably going into the trash anyway, so he doesn’t feel too guilty about it. And if Damian has his own opinion about it, he doesn’t let Jon know, just grunts and shifts a little more on his left side, lifting up some weight from his damaged shoulder.

Right, there’s also that.

With a heavy sigh, Jon sits on the bed next to Damian and cups both sides of his shoulder with his hands, locking his fingers just above it. He’s done it dozens of times by now, and Damian’s definitely had worse in his life, still he frowns and grits his teeth in sympathy when he pushes his palms together and settles the bone back into its socket with a loud pop.

As expected Damian jolts awake with a gasp, and his eyes snap open as he instinctively starts looking around for his attacker.

“Sssh, Damian it’s okay, it’s just me, don’t move”, Jon urges him, hands pushing lightly against his chest to keep him down on the bed.

Damian’s eyes flutter and he gives him a confused look.

“Jon?”

“Yeah”, Jon confirms, then he slips him some painkillers and a sip of water to swallow it down before Damian has the time to completely wake up and start complaining about not needing any drugs.

Truth to be told, even in his dizzy state of mind, Damian does manage to give him a dirty glare for his troubles, but he must also be quite tired of playing the superhero for the night, because he leaves it just at that.

He doesn’t even protest when Jon settles him more comfortably against the pillow. He just looks around the room with a confused stare.

“Where-”

“My old house in Hamilton”, Jon answers promptly. “You crashed through my window a little more than an hour ago, don’t you remember?”

“Hmn”, Damian answers non-committally. Then his hands twitch and he tries to push himself up again.

“Nope”, Jon says, keeping him easily pinned down.

“The Traveling Thief-”

“He’s downstairs and not going anywhere. Is that really your first concern?”, Jon asks, and he’d like to say he’s incredulous, but the truth is he knows his partner good enough not to be surprised in the slightest, not even about the almost offended look Damian gives him in response.

“I got him. Held on him for- what time is it?”

“Around midnight, I think”, and then, because he’s not sure if Damian’s been keeping up with the time at all, he adds: “It’s Sunday, by the way. Well, Monday, by now.”

And finally, finally, Damian seems to pause and actually try to focus on the matter at hand.

“I was gone almost five days?”, he asks, not bothering to hide his surprise.

Jon’s fingers dig a little bit harder into Damian’s skin as he bites his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

That’s all you have to say?, Jon wants to ask, but to be honest, he probably wouldn’t know what to say either if their role were reversed. Also it’s quite obvious that Damian’s not totally in his right mind yet - the painkillers mustn’t be helping in the slightest about that - and Jon really, really wants to go easy on him, but.

“Damian?”

“Mh?”

“How did you survive it?”, he asks, because he has to. “The explosion, I mean. Do you remember that?”

Damian blinks hazy, half-lidded eyes, then he clicks his tongue in what looks like equal parts anger and shame.

“Tripped on a booby-trapped wire”, he scoffs. “Stupid.”

Jon shakes his head.

“It wasn’t stupid.”

“Was too. I made one mistake after another. Activated both an alarm and a trap, like the worst amateur. Didn’t even noticed-”

“You didn’t make a mistake”, Jon interrupts him and Damian looks at him with a frown.

“I just told you I made several. I’m not-”

“I should’ve been there!”, Jon yells, cutting him off. “That was the only mistake! I should’ve been there with you!”

The high pitch of his voice makes the room ring around them. Damian’s eyes widen in bewilderment, and Jon immediately regrets his outburst. But the words had been stuck in his throat for so long, and hearing Damian accusing himself was just too much for him to keep them under control any longer.

“I’m sorry”, the words keep rolling out of his mouth and Jon just lets them. “It was my fault and I’m sorry. We thought you were dead, your family and my dad, and I just, I just should’ve been there to protect you and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But now you’re back and I- and I-”

And then, without meaning it in the slightest, he starts crying again. Because apparently he can’t do anything else these days. The most powerful boy on Earth, and all he can do is shake with sobs and bawl his eyes out. What a failure.

“Jon…”

Damian has really no idea on what to say, Jon knows that. Which is okay, because there’s nothing Jon really wants to listen to, right now. So he bows his head against Damian’s chest and tries to limit the sobs the best he can.

It’s weird, being so happy and so desperate at the same time. It gets even weirder when the palm of Damian’s hand hesitantly brushes against the crown of his head, fingers digging gently into Jon’s hair. And Jon may not feel comfortable with playing the protector in their relationship, but Damian sure as hell feels even less comfortable with being the comforting one. Which he shouldn’t be anyway, because once again Jon’s been selfish and letting him take care of the situation when it should be him the strong one right now. Useless, he’s useless.

But the strangest thing in all of this is that Damian doesn’t complain, doesn’t tell him to man up and stop acting like a baby, he just keeps… petting him. Like he would do with Titus, probably. The thought makes Jon laugh and he shakes harder against Damian’s chest, sobs and barks of laughter mixed up together into one wet, pathetic, childish mess.

“He was there, by the way”, Damian continues after a moment, voice soft and uncertain, because apparently he’s unwilling to let Jon’s sobs be the loudest sound in the room. Jon’s okay with that. “The Traveling Thief. Appeared the moment I activated the silent alarm. The glowing bicycle - it’s called the Garimard by the way, can you believe it? - that’s why we couldn’t catch him. The engine has a technology based on particles acceleration, so it travels almost at light speed. That’s also how I avoided blowing up, to answer your question. I grabbed onto it once I realized he’d set up a self-destruction device in the basement. He wasn’t too happy about it.”

Still in the middle of his breakdown, Jon chokes back a sob and snorts weakly into the fabric of the Robin’s costume.

“Can’t say I’m sorry for him.”

“Me neither”, Damian agrees. “Is he still downstairs by the way?”

“Yup”, Jon confirms with a sniff full of vindictive pleasure. “I told you, he will not move.”

Damian nods, then he continues his recount like he would with a patrol’s report at the end of a difficult night. “I knocked him out after the explosion pushed us away, then I tried putting some coordinates into the drive system, but it must’ve been damaged by the fire because after the first jump we kept ending up in the strangest places.”

It takes Jon a few second to elaborate what Damian’s just said.

“For five days? You kept jumping around the world for five days without stopping once?”, he asks, raising his head to look at him, and he’s so taken aback from the idea to stop crying at once. “Forget the explosion, how did you survive that?”

“With my superior training, of course”, Damian answers, and he’s only half sarcastic about it, of course. “Also, time was… weird. I think it worked differently on that thing. I couldn’t really feel it, if that makes sense.”

“Not really”, Jon answers honestly. He dries his face with the back of his hand, then slips an arm over Damian’s chest and rests his cheek on it. “How did you end up here anyway?”

Damian shrugs under him, then he yawns, and his eyes begin to close again.

“For the most of the time I was busy with trying to prevent the lame thief and myself from falling down the bike, but I also kept putting into the system various coordinates of places I knew. I guess for some reason these ones actually stuck.”

“For some reason”, Jon repeats.

“Mh.”

It’s comfortable where he is, Jon realizes. Well, not for his back, or his legs, and definitely not for his neck, but he feels good anyway, with his head on Damian’s chest and Damian’s hand between his hair. So he closes his eyes too and listens to Damian’s breath. He promises himself that once it evens out he’s gonna go downstair to have a chat with their- well, their hostage at this point, and then he will debate with himself if is really smart to keep the Batman in the dark about the return of his son for an entire night.

He falls asleep on top of Damian without even realizing it.

He sleeps until dawn, and he knows where and next to who he is the same instant he regains consciousness, and still his first instinct is to raise his head and look around to make sure that it wasn’t a dream, that Damian’s really here.

He finds him still in deep sleep, lying on the bed just next to him, his features completely relaxed for once, to the point he’s even drooling a little. The drugs and the five days exhaustion have definitely got the best of him, which is a good thing in Jon’s book, since in the daylight Damian looks a lot worse than he thought the night before.

It’s still fine, though. Damian’s alive, and that’s what really matters.

Jon gets out of the bed and for the first time in five days there isn’t the burden of a devastating grief weighing down on his chest. He can breathe just fine. For a moment it’s really confusing. Then he looks down at Damian and decides that the emotional mess can wait. Breakfast first.

It’s way past lunch time when Damian makes his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Jon’s okay with it. He’s spent the entire morning sitting on the porch, waiting, rethinking the last night as well as the last week in general, with the Traveling Thief, now tied to a rocking chair, awkwardly trying to keep him company. It was surreal.

Damian appears in the doorway smelling like Jon’s shampoo, hair still wet from a long and well deserved shower, and he gives them both an amused glare but doesn’t comment further.

So there’s this weird silence between all of them, and Jon looks at Damian while he clears his throat, struggling to find something to say, and he wonders if despite the drugs and the tiredness Damian’s remembering the night before too, if he’s embarrassed for it on Jon’s behalf. But if that was the case, he’d be coming up with a new insulting nickname at this point.

“Hey, Jonny boy”, Damian says instead after a few more moments, because apparently that’s the best he can do. But Jon shakes his head as he gets up on his feet and walks towards him.

“Nope”, he says. “Not this time.”

So he reaches out and he engulfs Damian in a hug almost strong enough to crush him. To his credit, Damian seemed to be already resigned for something like this to happen and he obviously braced himself in advance for it.

“Ribs”, Damian warns him anyway, but at the same time he wraps his arms around Jon with almost the same eagerness, if not with the same strength.

And it’s not the first hug they’ve ever shared, but there is some kind of awareness now in their touch, something that’s been there for some time now, but that was never acknowledged before. And Jon is tired too, happy and relieved, but so, so tired, and he’s not really thinking straight while he buries his face into Damian’s shoulder and sags into the embrace, welcoming the warmth in his stomach even as he feels the flush rising up to his face.

“I love you”, he whispers then into Damian’s neck.

And it wasn’t supposed to go like this. Before those words there should’ve been a first date, to see if things really worked out under that perspective, and then a second and a third and a fourth, and at least a kiss, maybe some touching, definitely more time spent together, a few tries, some good thinking, some doubts on the where and when to say something so important for the first time. No, it wasn’t supposed to come out of his mouth on its own, in the middle of an empty kitchen, with a lame thief as a witness, and seemingly so out of the blue.

And yet, even in forced retrospect, all those preparations sound like bullshit anyway. Because Jon knows already that he loves Damian, and the dates, the physical touches, the time, none of that would add anything to it. He loves him right now, he’ll love him tomorrow and for the times to come, so why hide it behind a maybe or a let’s see what happens?

And he’s not really waiting for an answer either, or a reaction, but he braces himself for it anyway when he feels Damian shifting his weight on his feet, and then his arms tightening around him.

“That’s not very smart of you”, Damian comments. Which is not a I love you too, but neither a what the hell, so Jon laughs against Damian’s neck and considers it a win because at least Damian knows, has probably known for some time too, the same way Jon knew, and that’s enough, at least for now.

It feels natural then, it feels just right, to pull himself back a bit to meet Damian’s eyes. It feels good to kiss him, to move one hand to the back of his head and the other around his waist to press their bodies closer together, hot skin against hot skin, tastes of blood and toothpaste on the tips of their tongues.

When Damian pulls back is only because he’s short of breath, and even then he doesn’t back off the whole way, but leans down to press his forehead against Jon’s, lips still brushing against the corner of Jon’s mouth.

“The lowlife is watching”, Damian whispers then, and he’s smiling, and Jon has to laugh because of course, why did he even bothered with imagining a normal first date for the two of them.

“Who cares”, he answers, still laughing. “Let him watch.”

#yorulun #damian wayne #jon kent #supersons #damijon #the Travelling Thief definitely gets an invite to their wedding #He can't partecipate because he's in prison and what not #but it was a lovely thought anyway #my fic #shari writes

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