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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

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And I’ll Succumb To You part 2

Part 1

Summary: It’s been nearly a month since you joined the Van der Linde gang. With your next heat on the horizon, you and Arthur set out to find a new bottle of Lilith’s Blessing.

Warnings: Smut, duh. ABO dynamics. And cursing.

AN: THIS CAME OUT TO 10,808 WORDS. Please enjoy ya thirsty hos! I may also make a part 3.

A whole three weeks passed since your life changed. Three weeks since you’d gone from a lone bounty hunter to a part of one of the most notorious gangs in the United States.

You’d been dozing peacefully on the back of Arthur’s horse by the time the two of you reached camp. His low voice aroused you from your slumber as he helped you to the ground. He tied his horse to a hitching post before repeating it with your horse. He then proceeded to remove your things, which you protested and said you could do it, only for him to shake his head and insist.

Arguing would have gotten you nowhere, so you followed him into the surprisingly large camp. A mixture of scents hung heavy in the air. The first thing you’d noticed was the campfire directly in the center, glowing bright orange against the fabric of the tents and dark wood of the wagons. People were sitting around it, and as soon as you got closer, heads turned.

You hadn’t expected such a big welcome.

Arthur had placed you in the care of the camp girls. A small group of them you found were excited to take you in. Karen and Mary-Beth were both Omega and thankful to have another in camp to bond with. Abigail was another Omega who had her hands full with a child of her own. Tilly was a Beta, though did not look down upon you which you were thankful for. Molly, another Beta, you found kept more to herself and greeted you politely before wandering toward one of the more extravagant tents. You also soon found they had a ringleader: A woman named Susan Grimshaw, the only female Alpha you’d ever met in your lifetime. Female Alphas were about as rare as a male Omega, and simply being in her presence was both awesome and overwhelming.

After they’d set up your bedroll underneath a hanging tarp next to a wagon, you were introduced to the others. The men, a mix of both Alpha and Beta. Dutch Van der Linde, the leader, was an Alpha and wary about your presence given your reputation. However after speaking with his right-hand man, Hosea Matthews and Arthur, Dutch begrudgingly accepted you as a new member.

Over time you’d gotten to know the rest. The others were…colorful characters, if you could call them that. They were a group of misfits from wherever just trying to get by in life in any means possible. If it meant robbing folk or doing good deeds.

It took a while for you to leave by yourself, due to Dutch’s orders. You were confined to camp for the first week with unseen eyes on you. Then began the small tasks, going into town for a grocery trip or hunting usually accompanied by someone else. You couldn’t complain, it was something to do and kept food in your belly. Once Dutch began to realize you weren’t going to turn on them, he began to send you out for bigger missions alongside the girls or the other men.

Today however, was a different. You’d woken up to the sounds of movement around you. Opening your eyes, you’d watched as Mary-Beth packed things into her satchel. The others were bustling around more than usual amongst the camp, moving sacks of supplies toward the horses. It confused you, wondering if it was possibly time to switch locations. However, you realized it was only a few people, a few people specifically. It was then when an all too familiar scent wafted into your nose: the heat of the other Omegas.

Karen and Mary-Beth had left with Susan and a few others, mentioning they’d be half-day’s travel away. Hosea explained they would be protected by the Alphas and Betas while they chose how to sate their desires, if it meant finding someone else to help or taking care of it by themselves. Abigail, you found, stays behind for the sake of Jack after obtaining some Lilith’s Blessing. She grumbled about how his father wouldn’t be competent enough to fill in as a parent for a week in her absence.

With the camp emptier, it felt both strange and relaxing. You kept yourself busy by helping the others run errands or fulfill other missions in the meantime.

A couple of days passed, you’d come back to camp after aiding John and Javier in a burglary. It fairly late then, the sun low in the sky and casting red hues amongst the surrounding woods. Your horse was sweaty and tired, so you untacked her and began to brush her damp coat.

The sound of twigs snapping caught your attention, and you turned to see Arthur walking past. He caught your eye and smiled politely, giving you a short wave before turning his attention forward. You’d returned the gesture before turning back to your horse, although your mind began to wander.

You two really hadn’t spoken about your encounter. You’d mutually agreed to not mention it to the others to avoid any awkward questions. You and he however barely spoke after that. The first few days in camp he would check in and see how you were adjusting. He’d greet you in the mornings and bid you a good night when turning in, or sit next to you at the campfire with idle chatter on some nights. He was usually busy anyway, often gone on missions or hunting trips. As the weeks passed by, he would intrude your thoughts and dreams.

Sure, he was handsome. Additionally he was sweet and showing a surprisingly soft side. The way he spoke to the girls and treated the others in camp was a stark contrast from the man that once intimidated you in Big Valley just weeks ago. How gentle he was with Jack melted your heart at times. Despite his Alpha nature, he never used his position to abuse the power he had over others. He was, after all, third in command. He was a decent man. More than decent actually. Sometimes you’d catch yourself staring at him for a second longer than intended. You also could have sworn you caught him gazing at you on more than one occasion, though his eyes would quickly avert when you did a double-take.

You breathed out a heavy sigh, leaning forward to plant your forehead against your horse’s neck. Surely you shouldn’t be falling for him, it seemed silly to even consider.

Someone called your name. You stood up straight and saw Tilly walking up to you out of the corner of your eye. You turned to face her, offering a smile to her. “Hey Tilly.”

“Hey Y/N. Mind if I speak with you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Of course, what is it?”

“Well…” she stepped up to your horse, offering the tired steed a carrot, whose ears perked up immediately and greedily munched the snack straight from Tilly’s hand. “Have you given thought on what you’re going to do with your heat?”

You blinked. “My heat?” you repeated. “I don’t know…” Your unused tonic had soured and you hadn’t had the time to seek out the market for a new one. You supposed you could make an attempt and ask Abigail where she received hers.

“Are you going to have Arthur again?” Tilly asked simply.

You blinked and spluttered, taken aback by her words. “Wha-how did you know?”

Tilly’s lips stretched into a knowing smile. “Could smell him on you when we got close to ya, and not cause you was sharing a horse.”

You bit your lip shyly, turning your head away. “It was just a one-time thing,” You huffed, keeping your voice low. “He and I just met and…well… it was just the wrong place at the wrong time,” you of course never told anyone that you were hunting him, and he also kept his mouth shut about that.

“You sure? Cause I’ve seen the way you stare at one another across camp. Seems like there’s something else going on, thought you’d ask him when the time comes.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you mumbled. “I’m just gonna ask Abigail where she got her Lilith’s Blessing. Should be easy enough.”

“Alright. Just let Miss Grimshaw know when she returns about what you plan on doing in case things go south,” Tilly replied before she reached over to pat your shoulder, and headed back to camp.

---

With the sun rising bright and early through camp, you planned your day ahead of time. Abigail mentioned she purchased the tonic from a seller in Emerald Ranch, a place you were familiar with and was just a few hours’ ride away. You’d gathered a few supplies needed and saddled up your horse. You mentioned to Tilly your whereabouts just in case anyone asked. It had been a while since you’ve gone on a journey by yourself.

You hoped you would have just a simple trip to get what you need and come back without a hitch.

Just as you tightened the cinch, and heard a voice from a few feet away.

“Where you headin’ off to?”

Of course it was Arthur. Your heart skipped a beat once you recognized him. Your arms fell to your sides and you turned to face him. His hands were gripping his gun belt with one hip slightly cocked to the side. You had to admit to yourself you loved when he grabbed his gun belt like that, as if it were a subtle way to exude his power. His face held an expectant expression.

“I’m…heading to Emerald Ranch,” you explained. “See if I can get my hands on some Lilith’s Blessing.”

Arthur nodded in understanding. “You, uh, close?”

“Still a few days off, I think. Which is why I’m heading out now,” you answered while turning back to your horse and preparing to mount on. As you pulled yourself up, you heard Arthur speak again.

“Mind if I join ya?”

You swung a leg over and seated yourself comfortably in your saddle, and then looked down at Arthur. You couldn’t fathom a reason why he’d go. Perhaps as protection? Sometimes Lilith’s Blessing sellers were more untrustworthy than others, but you could handle yourself regardless. However, there was no reason for him not to go. Finally you said, “Sure, come on then.”

Arthur didn’t take long to grab his own satchel before mounting his horse and coming up alongside you. You two rode together silently through the woods for the first few minutes until he spoke.

“So, how you likin’ it so far?” he asked curiously.

“Well it’s different,” you answered, turning you gaze up to the patches of sunlight that shone through the leaves above. “I like being somewhere where our statuses don’t matter. Feels like I’m a part of a family for the first time in a long time.”

“That’s what’s important,” Arthur rumbled. “We take care o’ one another as you saw. Glad you’re fittin’ in too.”

You nodded in response. Up ahead the forest gave way to a field, the blue sky expanding across the green landscape. As the two of you crossed the tree line, your gaze wandered over to him. His body was slightly hunched over on his horse while you loped graciously across the landscape. His forearms were bare, the sun shining brightly on his skin. His tightly corded muscles angled in the light, thick and strong. Your eyes shifted to observe the rest of his body. You’d never actually seen him naked, however you remembered how felt against you. Warm and strong and solid.

“Hey, you alright?” he suddenly asked. You blinked back into focus and saw him staring right at you.

You’d nearly flinched from being caught, and turned your head back to face straight. You couldn’t let yourself fantasize over that, not like it would ever happen again anyway. You’d fallen silent for the rest of the ride, only speaking once or twice and keeping the conversation short.

You reached Emerald Ranch by early afternoon. You’d stopped briefly to eat a quick meal before going about your business. It was a small place, full of Betas like most towns were. You’d never felt uncomfortable here.

“Where do we find what we’re lookin’ for?” Arthur asked you, casually walking beside you.

You tilted your head toward one of the barns. “The fence behind there, he keeps tabs on the local sellers.”

He nodded in response, keeping in step with you as you headed to your destination. Up ahead you could see a small caravan of people both on wagons and horseback rolling through. The scent hit you first however, the overwhelming Alpha musk carrying with the breeze.

Out of the corner of your eye, Arthur stepped even closer, placing his body between you and them in an almost protective manner. His hand hovered over your lower back, so close the heat radiated from his skin was felt through your shirt. He kept you closer to the side as the others passed, his eyes never leaving them.

Once they were a good distance away, Arthur stepped away to his previous space. You looked at him, noting how tight his jaw was clenched.

“Arthur?”

He looked down at you. “Eh, sorry. Jus’ wanna make sure they didn’t get any ideas…”

“They wouldn’t have smelled me yet, I’m not close enough to my heat,” you pointed out.

“I know. But jus’ in case,” he murmured.

You looked at him for a second longer, curious as to why he was so keen on protecting you at that moment. Then again being in a blended gang probably meant he had to fulfill the same role for the other Omegas. You decided to not question it further and continue on.

The fence was in the spot he always was, a little shack nestled at the end of the barn. Arthur still remained at your side, though stepped back slightly to allow you to do your business. The fence locked eyes with you as you approached him, a dry smile crossing his face.

“Haven’t seen ya in a while,” he said casually.

You nodded in response, stepping closer to lean in. “Darkness is a blessing in disguise, ain’t it?” you murmured, using one of the few phrases known for discussing the tonic in public.

The fence frowned slightly. “Sorry, it’s all sunshine here,”

Your heart sank immediately. It meant that the seller in question had left. “Er, do you know when the sun sets?”

“Can’t say I do, miss,” he responded while shaking his head. “I ain’t no time teller.”

You sighed in frustration, turning to Arthur with a sour look on your face. You gestured for him that it was time to go, and he nodded wordlessly, confusion crossing his own face.

He waited until you were out of earshot of anyone close by before he said anything. “What was that about?”

“Seller ain’t here,” you grumbled, storming up to your horse and yanking the reins from the post with more force than necessary. “And he didn’t know where they went.”

“Oh,” was all he said in response. You saw him chew on his lip out of the corner of your eye as he went to mount his own horse. “Er…y’know anyone else that might know?”

“No,” you huffed, urging your mare into a smooth canter. “That’s the thing. They move around without any word on where they go next. They leave clues for Omegas to find, but I don’t even know where to start looking.”

Arthur hadn’t replied, and the two of you rode in silence across the green expanse of the Heartlands. The fourth week was soon, and you knew your heat would be quick to follow. You didn’t have days to run around trying to find something that may not be there in the first place.

If only you could find a clue, or pick up at least the tiniest hint of a trail. Most sellers were Betas that didn’t have unique scent markers like an Omega or Alpha would, which made it easier for them to avoid unwanted company. They were very rarely in the same place twice. Had you been on top of this, you would have taken care of this issue before it was even an issue.

Would you have to resort back to your old ways of pleasuring yourself, leaving you not so quite satiated? Arthur told you there were alternative methods of your choice. You knew Karen was keen on bedding someone to relieve hers while Mary-Beth opted to keep to herself. Neither sounded pleasant to you.

A flash of memory crossed your mind. That night with Arthur…the way your body so readily accepted him. You were inebriated by your own desire then, clouded by the temptation of his musk and the swell of his knot. It was as if you were given the best meal of your life after being fed gruel.

What a dangerous sensation to chase.

You sighed and shook your head. It certainly won’t happen again. You couldn’t risk giving yourself to anyone like that ever again.

“What do ya plan to do?” Arthur interrupted your train of thought, breaking the long silence.

Hell, you still weren’t sure at that point. “I don’t know,” you groaned, clenching the reins in your fists hard. “I used to…just do it myself. Suppose that’s what I’ll have to do again.”

“But that don’t take it all away, right?” Arthur pressed.

“Never. It’s never enough…” you trailed off, pursing your lips. There was a curve in the road ahead, and the two of you slowed down.

Arthur took the opportunity to step his horse closer to yours. “Unless you…” he muttered, trailing off.

You nodded, answering his unasked question. Your memory was once again taken back, vividly reminiscing the way his hands held you, the way he was careful to move you before his knot released. It was nature’s intention to put an Alpha and Omega together. Those few moments of sweet bliss, as if you two were meant to be one… “Never knew how it felt like until you came along.” you turned your eyes to him, noting the look of interest he had on changed to surprise.

“Wait, I was your first?” he exasperated. When you nodded again, he brought his hand to his face, rubbing it as he let out a groan. “Christ… ‘M so sorry, that jus’ makes me feel worse…”

“Worse?” you repeated.

His gaze met yours with a solemn, shameful stare. “Didn’t even know you was a virgin. Takin’ somethin’ like that away from ya in that moment…”

You sighed heavily. That never mattered to you in the slightest, especially when the last thing on your mind was mating with someone. “Didn’t matter then, doesn’t matter now. Besides, we’re both guilty anyway.”

Arthur appeared as if he were going to say something else, instead he shook his head and sighed. “Maybe we can find, uh…another seller? There’s more than one, right? They gotta be ‘round somewhere.”

“Sure but not many,” you grumbled. “Arthur, I appreciate the help, but we ain’t gonna find one before my heat. I know that much. Like I said, they move around without much word.”

“You dunno that for sure,” he pointed out. “It’s worth a try.”

“Why are you so determined on finding one?” You asked, giving him a look. “Not like you’d get any benefit from it.”

“Jus’ wanna make sure you get what ya need,” he answered. “I know how much ya hate your heats.”

That little slip of truth in that moment, you remembered. You felt flattered that he’d come such lengths to try, yet at the same time it seemed unnecessary. Despite what happened between the two of you, neither of you had an obligation to one another. “You don’t have to, you know,” you pointed out.

“I know,” he murmured, so quiet you had to strain to hear him through the rhythmic hoofbeats and the wind whipping your face. “I jus’ thought I try to help ya this time. If you don’t want it, then I’ll head back to camp. Your call.”

You blinked in surprise. In truth you weren’t exactly sure what you’d expected with Arthur coming along. You were resigned to the idea of riding out your heat by self-pleasuring in a cabin somewhere. However, his determination refused to wither. He wanted to help you. He went out of his way just to make sure you purchased the tonic. You admired his persistence. Maybe with his help, it could be possible. You eventually responded with, “I guess we can try. But the moment I start feeling it, we need to stop.”

Arthur looked at you for a moment, and nodded in understanding. “Sure.”

—

You started in Valentine, a knowing there could be some people milling about with information. Mere droplets were shared, only learning of rumors and tales rather than anything concrete. There had been a seller there just a day before, but with no direct route of passage of where they went next. From what you gathered, the seller was headed either to Annesburg or Saint Denis. East as a general direction that also meant adding a day’s worth of travel after having traveled in the opposite direction.

You and Arthur left just as the sun was setting, casting beautiful warm hues across the Heartlands. He was hasty with his departure, ensuring there was as least time as possible in getting to your destination. The two of you decided to tackle Saint Denis first, hoping to pick up leads in a more densely populated area before moving on to Annesburg if needed.

The night grew later and your eyelids began to grow heavy. You’d just passed the state line into Lemoyne, the air much warmer and more humid than the clear atmosphere of New Hanover. The heat that surrounded you like a blanket was not helping your fatigue. When you yawned widely, Arthur decided to set up camp.

Soon you found yourself sitting in front of a small fire. Arthur found a small clearing surrounded by a few trees far enough from the road to not draw too much attention. After setting up your respective tents and getting a fire going, he left to hunt and assured you he would be near enough in case there was any trouble. You hadn’t been sitting by yourself for very long, and you let yourself succumb to your thoughts.

Saint Denis was just a half a day’s worth of travel from where you were right now. You hoped you could find better answers there. If not, then it would take almost another day to make it up to Annesburg. Arthur mentioned you two could take the train to save some time. A practical idea, but you were hoping it wouldn’t be needed.

You always had a good grasp of when your heat would start. However, you were beginning to grow anxious on how close it was cutting. Unlike before you were not afraid to confront it without the tonic now, but having it possibly start in unfamiliar territory was daunting.

The sounds of grass rustling caught your attention, and you smelled Arthur before you could see him. He appeared out of the darkness, hands laden with a few rabbits. He caught your gaze and offered you a half-smile.

“Doin’ alright?” he asked.

“As well as ever,” you answered, sitting up and watching him begin to skin the rabbits. “How about you?”

Arthur’s eyes swiveled back to you, a momentary look of faint confusion crossing his face before he focused back to the meat. “I’m alright I guess.” After managing to section the meat, he stuck some on his knife and knelt down over the fire.

It took a few minutes for the meat to finish cooking. The savory smell wafted to your nose and your stomach rumbled. Arthur handed some pieces to you, and you began to munch on them gratefully. It wasn’t a full meal but it was enough to keep you sated until tomorrow.

Besides the crackle of the fire and the sounds of nature surrounding you, it was quiet. You were staring into the dancing flames, letting your mind wander once again. Your fatigue was beginning to settle after sitting for so long and you were prepared to turn in for the night. You lifted your head to tell Arthur, only to find him staring at you.

His reaction was just a second too late, turning his head away and awkwardly clearing his throat. You blinked. “Something wrong, Arthur?”

“Er, nothin’,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

It only occurred to you then it was the first time that you were alone with him since that fateful night. You wondered what was going through his mind at the moment. Was he too thinking back to it? You remembered the conversation you had earlier, how he felt ashamed of taking your innocence. You supposed an otherwise hardened outlaw would not care about a woman’s virtue. But he did.

You also realized that you didn’t really know much about him past the outlaw life. Almost a month living in the same camp together and he was still a stranger to you. Contemplating on picking his brain a little, you scooted slightly closer. Your movement aroused him and he offered a look of curiosity.

“What’re you thinking about?” you asked lightly.

His gaze broke from you, a small shrug on his shoulders. “Nothin’ in particular, why?”

“Just curious,” you admitted. “Quite frankly…I don’t know much about you.”

He scoffed at your response, his eyes rolling in the golden light. “I ain’t a man worth knowin’, especially after what I done.”

You frowned slightly. “I know your ledger ain’t the cleanest-”

“I meant with you,” he interrupted. “I know you said it don’t matter, I just can’t help feelin’ guilty over it still.”

You breathed out a heavy sigh. “Arthur, we were both guilty. I was the one who lured you in, remember? Wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t go after you in the first place.”

“Shouldn’t have fallen for that trap,” he chuckled without humor. “But I took advantage of you…your heat... I can hold myself together around an Omega, but somehow…”

As he trailed off, you nodded in understanding. An Alpha’s rut was almost as difficult as an Omega’s heat to ride through. Only older and more seasoned Alphas were able to achieve it. Arthur shared a camp with Omegas, so you could see how he’d learn to contain himself.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling guilty as well. Your own temptations had tested his breaking point only to smash it to pieces. “Jesus, I had no idea. I’m sorry.” You murmured.

Arthur looked at you again, his expression hard to read. His lips twitched slightly before he spoke. “Ain’t your fault, Y/N. My own for lettin’ myself get to that point o’ no return.”

“It’s still on both of us regardless, no matter which way you spin it,” you pointed out. “What happened has happened, can’t fix that now. We just have to keep moving on.”

“I guess,” he sighed.

It once again fell silent between the two of you. Your gaze fell back to the now dying fire, the embers glowing faintly against the earth. The indigo and cobalt expanse of the sky was slowly engulfing you. Thoughts began to stir in more curiosity. It was the most you’ve talked about it, and somehow it felt more awkward than burying it with your memories. You supposed it was better to speak about it than not.

“We should turn in for the night,” he spoke again, moving to stand up. As you got to your feet as well, he kicked out the remainder of the fire and shrouding you both in near-total darkness.

As your eyes adjusted, you could see his gleaming in dim. He was staring at you again for a beat longer before turning to face his tent. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

For the briefest of a second you could feel the brush of his fingertips along the bare skin of your forearm as he passed by. A simple quick touch that sent sparks through you. It was so quick and sudden you assumed it might’ve been an accident.

Or was it?

A large yawn instead took your thoughts to your bedroll. Bidding him a goodnight just as he disappeared into his tent, you made your way toward your own.

---

The early morning sun peering through the slits of your tent aroused you from your restful, dream-filled sleep. You sat up slowly, rubbing the last dregs of fatigue from your eyes. As your body became more aware, the low crackling of a fire outside caught your attention. You crawled forward and opened your tent to see Arthur sitting in front of the fire. His attention was on the leather journal in his hands. He seemed to be writing something down, not having noticed you yet.

You’d seen that journal a few times before. You wondered often what he wrote in it. As you crawled out of the tent and into the dim morning light, only then did Arthur look up and close his journal.

“Mornin’,” he rasped, his voice just slightly sleep-touched while he reached for a coffee pot and cup off to the side. He poured some into the cup and held it out. “How’d you sleep?”

You thanked him with a smile and grasped the cup in your hands. The cool metal began to warm instantly and you took a sip. Bitter and hot, it was an unusually welcoming feeling in your dry mouth. “Pretty decent. How about you?”

He shrugged slightly in response before he placed the journal in his satchel. “Can’t complain. Anyway, we’ll be headin’ off once you’re done with that. Sound good?”

You nodded while taking another sip. Leaving soon meant you’d reach Saint Denis by either late morning or early afternoon, and left you a good amount of time to start asking around. Once you finished your coffee, Arthur helped you break down your tent before tending to his own. Once the site had been completely devoid of everything, you were on the road again.

With the air becoming more humid and hazy, it were as if each breath you took was like inhaling water. Through the thickness of the atmosphere, the buildings of Saint Denis unveiled ahead. You’d reached the cobblestone streets by high noon, the sun disappearing above the smog. Both a beautiful and intimidating city, you were both hopeful and determined your search would end here.

You and Arthur agreed to split up to cover more ground. He knew you were perfectly capable of handling yourself after learning your reputation. However it did not stop him from being apprehensive. Before you set off, he asked you to dismount your horse. You did so, about to question as to why when he dismounted his to stand in front of you, and he tugged the black bandana from around his neck to hold out to you.

You stared at it in confusion, before turning your eyes to him.

“Keep my scent on ya, just in case anyone gets any ideas.” He explained.

“I don’t need-” you began, yet the look on his face stopped you in your tracks. True concern. You knew what he was trying to do; an Alpha sometimes would scent mark their mates by having them wear an article of clothing, an added layer of protection to ward off any rival Alphas if they were ever separated. He wasn’t trying to claim you, though. He had a good reason to make sure you were guarded. You weren’t too familiar with Saint Denis, but you knew there was a considerable amount of Alphas here. Without another word, you took the bandana from his hands and wrapped it around your own neck. His scent wafting off the fabric filled your nose.

A small smile of relief crossed his face. “Thank you. Alright, let’s meet by the train station in four hours,” he said, mounting back on his horse. “Be careful.”

You nodded to him, climbing onto your mare. “You too, Arthur. See you in a few hours.”

And in those few hours you’d discovered absolutely nothing.

Your frustration only grew as you moved down the streets and through the alleyways, finding the more questionable of people to ask. To your dismay they wouldn’t know or they avoided the question entirely. Some answers had you tracing back to Valentine or Emerald Ranch. Your head was absolutely spinning with the lack of direction, but you didn’t want to give up just yet.

After a few hours of dead ends and misleadings, you’d found hopefully one more lead.

You had around fifteen minutes before meeting Arthur back at the train station, and the last place you decided to try was a saloon on the seedier part of the city. The building itself appeared run-down, and the faint smell of urine lingered on the walls. You crinkled your nose and pushed the door open, coming upon a scene that wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

Drunken fools slurring and giggling in their seats, tipping half-empty bottles of beer and whiskey to their loose lips. An abundance of Betas with a few Omegas mixed in. Surely someone here could be persuaded through their inebriation.

You approached another Omega who seated herself in the corner, her cheeks rosy and her eyes half lidded as her distant gaze met yours. She clutched an amber bottle in her hand. You offered her a polite smile and sat across from her.

“Hello,” you greeted.

“H-hey, sugar,” she slurred, the smell of whiskey strong on her breath. “W-wanna have a good time?”

“No,” you answered immediately. “Listen…I’m in search of something. Something that would help…people like you and me.”

The woman blinked at you with an absolutely dumbfounded expression. “I…I ain’t sure whatchoo talkin’ about! Whuh-what?”

You sighed and closed your eyes to keep your composure. This seemed like a good idea just a minute ago. “A certain…tonic,” you leaned in and dropped your voice. “Ya know…a blessing in disguise.”

She hiccupped heavily, frowning as her fogged gaze turned away from you. She doubled over and held her stomach, promptly stumbling off her stool and heading to the exit. As she disappeared through the door, you heard the unmistakable sounds of retching and you sighed. So much for that.

You turned to look around, hoping you’d catch someone else that could tell you. There weren’t too many other Omegas, and each and every one seemed to be as inebriated as the previous. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea as you thought. You instead decided to leave, the smell of fresh alcohol vomit filling your nostrils as you exited into the hazy afternoon air. The poor girl was off to the side, moaning in pain next to her puddle of shame. You just kept walking, looking around for your horse. The mare had wandered off and your lips formed to whistle for her when another smell overtook your senses.

Alpha. A scent unlike Arthur’s but heavier and…rancid. Your nose crinkled and you hastened your steps. As you passed by an alleyway, a silhouette appeared and made its way toward you.

“Heard you were lookin’ ‘round for some Lilith’s Blessing,” a voice rumbled from the silhouette, who moved to step in behind you.

You kept your cool despite a small bubble of anxiety rising in your stomach. You’d dealt with Alphas like him one too many times before. “Bet you’ve heard many things in this city,” you countered, keeping your sights forward.

“I just thought it was strange…for a claimed Omega to be askin’ for such a thing when her Alpha should be takin’ care of her,” he continued as if you hadn’t spoken. He was still right behind you, too close for comfort.

You turned around to face him. Much taller than you as expected, wearing clothes that would easily cost you an entire month’s worth of bounties to achieve. He had a gleam in his eye that you did not trust. “What I do with my Alpha is none of your concern.” You hissed with a scowl. “Please leave me alone.”

“Ah, I don’t think so,” he growled, his arms quickly reaching out to you. You’d anticipated this and stepped back, bringing your own arm to swing a punch directly to his face. The distinctive and satisfying crunch of his nose breaking beneath your fist was enough to bring him to his knees. He yowled in pain, followed by expletives you cared to not repeat.

You turned on your heel and sprinted down the street. Your feet hit hard against the cobblestone as you sought to push as much distance between him and you as possible. You turned a corner and another, hoping that if he recovered, he would lose track of you that way. You weaved through random pedestrians, their sounds of shock and surprise falling on deaf ears. You only stopped when you’d ended up in an alley.

You were breathing hard, leaning against a wall in attempts to catch your breath. You had to find your way to the train station from here. Arthur surely would have reached there by now and was probably wondering where you were. Maybe he’ll come looking for you, though it was such a vast city you weren’t sure if that was possible. Hopefully you could ask someone for directions.

As your breath evened out and your heart stopped hammering, you straightened up again. Just before you began to move however, a tightening below your navel made its presence. A sensation you were all too familiar with. Your heart dropped to your stomach. Shit.

It was a little too early for this.

You had to find Arthur and high-tail it out.

You made your way back to the street and whistled loudly, hoping your horse was close enough to hear you. Others in the area turned their heads toward you, and you hoped it was because of your whistle and not the other reason.

You waited for a full minute, and nothing. Huffing in frustration, you headed to the first person you saw and asked for directions to the train station. Thankfully you learned it wasn’t too far away, and not in the direction of the Alpha who attempted to assault you. You hurried in the direction they told you, keeping your pace fast and your eyes forward.

The further you went, the more eyes were upon you. You hastened your steps again, knowing you had caught the attention of more than one Alpha in the area. The scent on Arthur’s bandana was beginning to fade.

The presence of others on your tail made you hyperaware. They were far back enough for you to slip out of sight, favoring to move in between buildings. You knew the general direction of the station and hoped you wouldn’t get turned around again. You were closer, possibly a few blocks away from what you were told. The steady breeze was moving with you.

As you approached the opening to another street, a large body stepped into your way. You skidded to a halt, eyes widening as the Alpha musk once again enveloped you.

“Omega…” he growled, his eyes flashing brightly. You ducked his opening arms, quickly skirting around him impressively in such a narrow space before darting forward.

Out into the open street, you managed to weave between horses and wagons. A train whistle sounded through the crowd, signaling that you were close. You put on a burst of speed, sprinting down the street with the train station clear ahead. You heard the Alpha behind you, his low snarl ripping through the crowd. You prayed Arthur was there waiting.

The Alpha grew closer, his larger body and longer strides were able to catch up to you in nearly no time at all. The busy street had only given you a slight headstart. You willed your legs to go faster, but the ache settling deep in your muscles told you that you weren’t able to.

He was just feet behind you.

Panic began to settle in.

You were ready to meet your inevitable fate when the sounds of hoofbeats appeared behind you, thunderous and quick, you heard the metal of the horseshoes skidding to a stop across the cobblestone.

“Back off,” a familiar – and welcoming – voice growled. You spun around to see Arthur on his horse, effectively blocking the Alpha from you. “She’s mine.”

The other Alpha snarled. You couldn’t see what happened next, only heard the connection of Arthur’s boot to his body. A grunt of pain was quick to follow, accompanied by the heavy thud of his body on the ground. It was only then did Arthur turn to look at you.

“Come on,” he huffed, gesturing to the back of his horse. You did not have to be told twice, jumping up onto the stallion was the quickest you’ve ever mounted a horse. As soon as your arms wrapped around his torso he took off.

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you kept your eyes forward. The train station was dead ahead. “Arthur-” you breathlessly uttered. “We can’t go to Annesburg. My heat-”

“I know,” he interrupted lowly. “I smelled it this mornin’.” Instead of heading toward the train, he veered off to the right and followed the tracks opposite of the way the train was facing. Residential buildings gave way to factories and stockyards, meaning you were nearly out.

A familiar whinny caught your attention. You turned your head and saw your mare running toward the both of you, and you sighed in relief.

---

The two of you rode out of Saint Denis without any trouble, heading westward toward Rhodes. Arthur however kept on the paths away from any sort of civilization, that of which you were grateful for. The longer you rode, however, the worse the pressure in your belly became. His scent wafted around you, prodding you further towards the peak of your heat. It wouldn’t be much longer before you were coated in your own slick and unable to move in his presence.

You gave him a warning, hoping he too would be able to compose himself like he said he could. He stopped deep in the woods, close to a stream where you were able to temporarily quench the burning in your throat. Arthur was quick to set up your tent, though keeping himself at a safe distance to not inhale your ever-growing scent of temptation.

It was only twilight by then, though appearing darker underneath the canopy of the trees. Your skin was already damp from the humidity, yet the presence of your slick was beginning to soak through your bloomers. You took a deep breath and looked at Arthur, tugging away the bandana from your neck and holding it out to him. He took it, carefully not allowing his fingers to brush yours.

It’d been quiet between the two of you when you stopped. You finally broke the silence. “Arthur, you can leave me,” you said to him. “I know my scent can’t be too friendly on you.”

He looked at you with a slight frown and a furrowed brow. “I ain’t leavin’, Y/N. Gotta make sure you’re safe.”

His refusal surprised you and simultaneously fluttered your heartstrings. You weren’t sure how to feel about his response. “We’re not close to any towns or-”

“Don’t matter. You know exactly how far your scent can travel.” He said knowingly. “Can’t risk that, so you do what you gotta do. I’ll be out here.” He gestured to the forest that surrounded you.

You sighed heavily. There was no arguing with Arthur, that you learned after having caught wind of his conversations with others. It wasn’t a situation you were foreign to either. In your younger days you’d learned to pleasure yourself in the presence of others who were close by to keep a lookout. You would tune it out and become lost in your own thoughts.

Time to visit the past.

You nodded to him and turned toward your tent. As you entered it you listened to his footsteps grow distant. You took a deep breath and lay on your bedroll, allowing your mind to succumb to your heat.

You closed your eyes and unbuttoned your shirt. Your wandering hands rolled up your chemise to explore your bare skin. You were hot and damp to the touch, and your nipples were already puckered. It’d been so long since you’d done this to yourself that you almost missed it. Almost.

Your pants were next, the denim constricting you as your body demanded to be free. You unbuttoned them and slid a hand in, your fingers sliding along your folds still covered by your chemise. You kicked off your jeans and shrugged off your shirt, and your underclothing was soon to follow. Your fingers dragged their way to your slit, parting them and your other hand began to caress your bundle of nerves. The pleasure began to roll through you, growing slowly as your touch became more fervent.

An image appeared in the depths of your mind. Arthur pinning you against a tree, fucking you to his content. It disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived, yet it was enough to send a wave of fresh yearning through you. Biting on your lip, you tried to ignore it.

That however did nothing to staunch the way your body responded further to that memory. You mentally tried to push it away despite how wet you were growing for that sensation again. You shouldn’t fantasize about Arthur, you couldn’t.

Your mind kept screaming at yourself, but your body keened for his touch. The seconds ticked by and you were losing control of your own thoughts.

The dam broke open, flooding your mind with the memories of how Arthur took you that night. How perfect he felt inside you. The way his hands ravaged every inch of your sensitive skin and he rammed you. Your fingers slid into your entrance, desperately trying to reenact the sensation of his cock inside you. His growl, audible in your mind, was enough to send shivers cascading through your body.

You remembered how instantly protective he was over you earlier. The power in his voice, she’s mine. Even if it were just in the heat of the moment to ward off the other Alpha, those mere words sent you spiraling.

A small part of you wished you hadn’t resorted to him. He however was your first, and the only memory that you sustained in such a powerful event. You ached so painfully for it again. Your hands worked feverishly against your clit and teased your entrance. Every nerve of your body tingled as you barreled toward your release.

“Arthur…”

Your climax crashed over you fiercely, overtaking your muscles as you clenched around your fingers. You expelled a fresh rush of fluid into the palm of your hand. That was new.

You released shallow breaths as blood rushed through your ears. The fire of your release began to ebb away, settling back within your belly. You expected the dull ache that accompanied your usual ministrations. However, it were as if you hadn’t even done anything. The yearning returned with full force, gripping hold of your insides that you nearly gasped out from its intensity.

You moaned in frustration and gritted your teeth. God damn it. You knew what you were craving, who you were craving. You should have expected it wouldn’t be the same after your encounter with him. It were as if he changed your entire chemistry right down to the very core. You wouldn’t be satisfied unless he were to copulate with you. And you weren’t even mated to him.

But would he oblige?

You swallowed and sat up, the growing need for him beginning to cloud your mind. A small part of you contemplated on just riding the remainder of your heat out, regardless how long it took. There was no way Arthur would agree to do this again. You were ashamed of even considering it. You knew how he felt about it and you couldn’t blame him. Hell, you couldn’t blame either of you.

A swell of pressure grew within your core, forcing a sharp intake of breath from you. Perhaps you ought to try.

You stood up and peered through the flaps of your tent. It’d grown even darker, and you strained your eyes to see through the trees. A small breeze carried by, bringing Arthur’s scent to you and flooding your senses. Your legs trembled from how it enveloped you. He was still nearby.

You called his name into the quiet night and waited. A moment passed by when the faint sounds of moving underbrush appeared. His silhouette formed through the dark, becoming more prominent with each step. He was close enough to see his face, though still stood a good distance away.

“You finished?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No…” you mumbled. “I...I need help.”

You watched as his expression changed to confusion in the dim. “Help? With what?” he asked.

You swallowed hard. “I-I think you know…” you stammered, shyly glancing downward. You waited for him to reject you, waited for the anger of you even suggesting it.

Instead was even more bewilderment. “W-why?” he asked.

You sighed heavily. “Because I-” you paused for a moment to collect the right words. “I tried, it didn’t work. It’s the only way, Arthur. Please…I wouldn’t ask if there was another way aside from…riding it out.”

He’d fallen silent for a long moment, his gaze turning away from you, and you assumed that was his rejection. You withdrew back into your tent, unsure what you were going to do now. Embarrassment began to flood through you, and you cursed your heat for even allowing you to consider asking for his help. It was going to be a long week.

You heard the flaps open, and you turned your head to see Arthur at the entrance. It nearly surprised you, giving him a look of your own confusion. “Arthur?”

His eyes were on you, eyes bright against the darkness. His scent began to overwhelm you as he stepped in completely. You instinctually covered yourself, shyness overcoming you.

“Y/N…” he rumbled, kneeling down and reaching to gently cup your face. You hadn’t expected it, your body both flinching and responding to his touch. Rough fingers slid against the soft skin of your face, and you closed your eyes, allowing the sparks roll through your body.

You felt his lips brush against yours. His hands coaxed your stiff arms down and away from you. It surprised you that he was so intimate and gentle unlike before. He pulled you into his lap as if you were weightless, his clothes rough against your naked skin. The bulge beneath his pants were already prominent, sitting against your soaked mound.

The kiss became more fervent, his tongue prodding you open. You gladly accepted his invasion, letting him take the lead. One hand left your waist to trail up and down your back. A simple touch that had your heat keening for him. Your back arched and you pressed your breasts against his chest. A quiet groan rumbled deeply from him, and he parted his lips from yours.

The hand that trailed along your spine had come to rest on your lower back. “You sure ya want this?” he murmured to you.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes,” you answered coherently. “I want you, Arthur. I need you right now.” Your arms wrapped around his neck.

He inhaled deeply, allowing your scent to flood his senses. A growl emanated from his chest, sending a shiver took hold of you. “You smell so good…” he whispered. His hand moved to your navel, sinking down low to your folds. Another shudder rippled through you as his fingers grazed against your sensitive clit. You could hear how wet you were when he teased your entrance.

“T-take me, please. Arthur…I’m aching for you,” you moaned, canting your hips to his touch.

He hummed at your words, sliding his fingers into you with ease. His thumb circled your nub. A gasp passed your lips as he toyed you tantalizingly, almost lazily. He hadn’t done this before with you. Even with his fingers, it was what your body needed. He felt so good that you could get lost just from his hands alone. His other hand moved from your lower back to your chest, grazing his thumb across one of your nipples. He played you like an instrument, his fingers expertly teasing you at a slow pace in every right way. It didn’t take long until you were writhing in his lap. You begged for more, but he kept at it with his ministrations, his eyes on you the entire time.

Your second peak had washed over you smoothly, yet somehow was more satisfying and explosive than the first. You moaned his name, your fingers grappling onto him like claws as it gripped your body. The last of it trickled out of your body as you trembled in his lap. You’d certainly made a mess on his jeans. The ache in your belly had lessoned however still remained prominent, and you wanted him even further.

“Did that help?” he asked lowly.

“A little,” you sighed. “Not enough…I need to feel you.”

He didn’t answer, ducking his head as if in thought. You could sense his hesitation and could guess why: his thoughts were still lingering on his guilt. You placed your hand on his stubbled chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“It’s okay, Arthur. I’m asking you…please. I want your knot.” You whispered to him. Your free hand slinked down his torso to rest on his strained jeans. His entire body twitched beneath you.

His gaze was fixated on you. There was still an unsureness hidden within those depths, yet the gleam reflected much more. His rut was the forefront, the need to connect with you held back by uncertainty. He released a rattling sigh, finally muttering, “I want you too.”

You smiled and your hand left his chin to work on the buttons of his shirt. It was already partly opened and you moved to work on the rest. It would be the first time seeing him nude and a fresh wave of need washed upon you thinking about it. The fabric fell open and you placed your hands on his exposed torso. He felt solid underneath his hot, hairy skin. His even breathing slightly disrupted from your touch. Fingertips trailing along his midline, you explored the planes and angles of his muscles. He was built just right. The very epitome of an Alpha.

You dare to explore further, dipping down to the waistband of his pants. As the buttons released the tension it unveiled what lay hidden underneath. You reached in through the opened folds to fish out his length. It was as thick as you remembered, your hand not fully wrapping around its circumference. The knot at the base was slightly swollen.

His breath hitched as you slid your hand along his hot and silky skin. Even though he’d taken your innocence last time, you were not ignorant on how to pleasure a man. His soft moans were a sweet melody to your ears, calling to you and reaching even further to your heat. You drew in a ragged breath as another swell of yearning overtook you.

Arthur sensed it, and his hand covered your own. He pulled your hand off him gently. “Think I need to focus on you now, sweetheart.” He muttered, planting a soft kiss upon your knuckles.

Sweetheart. You hadn’t expected that. A blush painted your face and you smiled shyly, tucking your face against your shoulder. He moved you off his lap and placed you back on your bedroll.

“On your knees.” He said gently. You listened and turned around, raising your ass up in presentation to him. His large hands took place on your waist and you waited for him to pound in. He instead slid his cock between your folds, groaning lightly as he coated himself with your fluids. He teased your clit for a short moment before he found your opening and slid in with ease, taking his time to fill you inch by inch. He stretched your walls oh so deliciously until he was completely sheathed.

You felt whole again, the two of you fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces. Your body naturally pushed back, your butt flush with his hips. He uttered a small swear while his grip tightened on you.

He began to thrust. A slow and rolling movement that sent waves traveling through every fiber of your being. “Arthur…” you moaned. “You feel so good.”

His pace quickened a touch as he moaned out your name. He was careful with you this time, each touch and thrust as gentle as handling fine china. He caressed every curve you had to offer, tingles erupting everywhere his calloused pads roamed. He left no inch of your flesh untouched, exploring everywhere he could reach. He leaned over you, clouding your mind with his musk as his strong arms wrapped around you. Your breasts were at his leisure, toying with them as he had before. The way he pinched your nipples sent shivers down your spine.

“You feel amazin’,” He groaned, pressing himself deep as he inhaled sharply. “So soft…” he straightened back up and ran a hand down your back, his nails spurring you enough to enhance your ever-growing pleasure. He reached around to rub against your clit.

The additional sensation had you trembling in his grasp. Your head tilted up to whine out loud, uncaring of the volume at the moment.

“That’s it darlin’,” he rumbled to you. “Give me your pleasure.”

Darlin’. His voice. It was enough alone to send you nearly over the edge. It brought your third peak sooner than expected, coiling right deep within your core. It sprang free and spread like wildfire through your veins. You sang your pleasure out to him, your muscles clenching around him so tightly that he grunted.

He swore out loud, driving into you rather hard. You gasped and tried to wiggle away from the overstimulation. He held you against him yet returned to his normal pace. “Shit,” he groaned. “You sound beautiful.”

Your face heated with another blush. You turned your head to look at him. His eyes locked to yours, his clouded with lust. He offered you a small smile and briefly caressed your neck. Such intimacy continuously caught you off guard yet was pleasant all the same. “C-can you go harder, please?” you sighed.

He moaned at your words and heeded your request, thrusting harder and deeper into you. The waves of absolute ecstasy that followed were almost dizzying. You gripped the bedroll and released a wanton moan. His knot was starting to swell more, indicating he was close to his own release. His thrusts became more fervent as he chased his pleasure. Leaning over once again he wrapped his arms around you to bring you upright, pressing your back to his chest. You could only gasp in surprise from this action words lost to you with your mind too fogged. His scruffy chin rested on your shoulder as he murmured sweet praises in your ear. He was relentless, his fingers hadn’t left your clit while his other hand fondled your breasts. Your body threatened to melt in his grip with yet another orgasm on the climb.

It washed onto you like a tsunami. Your entire body vibrated in his arms as you cried your release out to the heavens, his name mixed in a tangle of swears and squeals. With the flames ebbing away, his arms held you tight while he drove himself even further into you.

“Shit, I’m close,” he growled lowly. His knot teased the sensitive nerves of your inner walls. You could only breathlessly whine while he used your body to his bidding. With a few strong thrusts, he unleashed a guttural groan and pressed himself into you as much as he could, spilling his hot spend inside you.

His knot had swelled completely, once again locking you to him. The little space of your tent had become filled with the heated panting of your breaths. The aching swell once residing deep in your belly had finally dissipated, leaving behind a blanket of fatigued bliss.

Arthur’s arms loosened a fraction from around you. You hadn’t expected the next maneuver when he shifted you as if you were weightless. He’d managed to carefully lay the both of you atop your bedroll, his weight was on top of you for only a brief second before he rolled onto his side and pulling you along with him. He was now spooning you, and only then did his arms leave your torso.

The air was hot, the heat radiating from his skin even hotter. That didn’t matter to you in the slightest. Riddled head to toe with satisfaction of finally having what you needed with the person you needed it from. Just an hour ago it seemed even impossible to reach this point.

You felt him shift behind you again. His presence loomed over you and his hand reached to cup your jaw. You turned to his touch without resistance, peering up into those bright eyes of his. He had a soft smile that shone through the dim, and he brought his lips to meet yours.

The kiss was as tender as the first. It still amazed you how this beast of a man could be so soft and gentle with you. He held you to him and you marveled how plump his lips felt against yours. Another long moment passed before he released your face, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

Such a simple notion had you lightheaded. You gave a small huff, your senses still filled to the brim of his scent. He chuckled lightly, sending vibrations against your back.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while,” he rumbled.

You blinked and shifted slightly to view him better. “What, fuck me?”

“Not exactly,” he murmured. “Kiss you.”

His answer had you taken aback. “W-what? Really?”

His hand moved again, beginning to trace lazy patterns up and down your waistline. “Yeah… was afraid to say somethin’ to ya after what happened. Weren’t sure if you even liked me. Thought I’d try.”

You released a shuddering sigh at his words. Never did you once imagine it would have come to this point. You denied your slowly growing infatuation for him as one-sided and heat-driven, assuming he’d never even want to touch you again. And you were glad you were wrong.

“’Less you just needed me for my knot…” he mumbled, turning his head away and taking your silence for rejection.

“No!” you exclaimed. He flinched from your interjection. You cautiously moved yourself to cup his cheek. “Arthur…” you said, lowering your tone. “Listen, I… I like you. I do. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked you to help me with my heat…” you sighed again. “Regardless of what happened between us. I like you.”

You watched the disbelief melt away from his face to slowly form a content smile. His hand covered yours, passing his lips across the skin of your palm. You closed your eyes, allowing the sensation to envelope you. He kissed a steady, feather-light path up your arm and along your shoulder. He finished by placing his mouth against your pulse point. His teeth grazed your flesh, catching your attention. Your breath hitched and you opened your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I won’t mark ya,” he assured, whispering into your skin. “Too early for anything yet…”

You nodded silently. Still much too soon to even consider such a large step, if it were even a possibility in the future.

“But I wanna get to know ya more…” he continued. His touch moved to your stomach, rubbing it in slow, soothing circles. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” you granted, sparks igniting deep from how he caressed you. “Just wish you’d done it sooner.”

He exhaled a puff of breath with a small chuckle. “I ain’t the most confident of folk, believe it or not.”

You hummed in response. “Guess I ain’t surprised since you went almost a month without saying much to me.”

“’Spose I gotta make up for that then,” he replied, placing a sweet kiss on the back of your neck. The hand on your stomach pressed your torso closer to his in a tight embrace. You fell to it easily, finding comfort and security in his capable hands.

The post copulation ache that took hold of your muscles soon began to engulf you whole. Sleep weighed heavy in your mind and tugged at your eyelids. The last thing you heard was Arthur’s voice soothing you to a restful sleep.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #ABO dynamics #a/b/o dynamics

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legmanns-moved · 4 years

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Why I don’t interact with @gam.iru_ on Instagram

@gam.iru (idk what name they use) is a mestize puerto rican user who I have beef with because of their repeated instances of antiblack racism and racism against korean people, inappropriate sexual behavior, bullying of others, and a lot of other stuff. This post is going to act as my catch-all post explaining my reasons for no longer wishing to associate with them or their friends. I am not trying to “ruin their life” or intentionally make them look bad... they make themself look bad.

One of my main issues with them during the time that we were friends was their frequent use and defense of nonblack people, themself included, using the terms n*gga and n*gger. The first instance of the N word was in a group chat that we had back in early-mid 2018 for Cookie Run fans, where they would on occasion refer to certain individuals(cartoon characters, public figures, etc.) as "that n/gga", and then once I or another user called them out for it they'd insist that they were in the wrong headspace, failing to address the bigger issue.

To add from that, one of the things that lead to the termination of our friendship was their repeated defense of the use of the term "n/gger sugar" in a song by the band Queen, and continuing to listen to this song and mock me for it making me uncomfortable. This term is obviously racist, and there's never any reason for a nonblack person to use or defend it. From what I've been told byother users, gam.iru is claiming that they refused to listen to the song in question. I can confirm that gam.iru did not, in fact, avoid songs that contained the term n*gger. Their choosing to listen to the offending song in question was what made me first criticize the action. This first altercation (the first time I've called them out for the n word, not the first time it was used) was on April 17, 2019 at around 6 am EST, so 5 am for them.

Even if they were telling the truth with avoiding offending songs, it is still beyond inappropriate of them to try to defend or justify the use of this term by a nonblack individual, or furthermore claim that other individuals' actions are not racist because they don't think they're racist. Especially to me, a black person. Nonblack people do not get to dictate what is and is not considered antiblack racism, or try to tone police black people when speaking on antiblack racism. gam.iru did this on numerous occasions.

Another one of the things that they did was repeated racialized hateful remarks towards east asian musicians, specifically korean artists. Apparently, they've tried to justify this by citing that hating on kpop was a trend at the time, but the trend originated from racialized xenophobia and they knew that and simply didn't care. They repeatedly made comments lumping all korean people into one category, mocking korean artists, and all that, which is still racist regardless of intent. Using a racist meme doesn't excuse racism, and that was one of my problems with them. They also did this to a lesser extent with Japanese musicians who I listened to at the time, but I didn't mention that since their fixation seemed to be specifically on Korean people. They went a step further from simply "not liking" kpop to the mockery of korean people, bringing this up every single time other people in the group chat mentioned anything korean ,and making racist remarks. This was my issue.

(please note that the screenshot where I call them Jack is from 2018, before they chose the name Carlos. I don't intend to deadname them, this is just a really old message. To update, they no longer go by Carlos either, and I don’t know what their new name is.)

The idea that Western artists represent and own the concept of free expression while Asian artists are "starved" and are always forced to suffer is not only racist propaganda, but dishonest. The implication that this is merely a Korean issue, when many corporations such as Disney or Atlantic Records have had repeated issues with pedophilia, abuse, and censorship of their own stars, is therefore racist no matter how you spin it. You cannot criticize the kpop industry while actively supporting the western music industry as if there's nothing wrong, which is something gam.iru has done. The entire trend of hating kpop was something started by mostly white men to emasculate east Asian men and mock them, citing that they "look the same", and mock teenage girls for liking these stars. Gam.iru , to date, has never apologize for making comments like this, or apologized to my friend, another black user, for her art "looking like a kpop stan's", and repeatedly inserting themselves into conversations discussing her interest in korean artists. All of this was done while spamming the chat with pictures of Queen (and occasionally other offending artists), whom Sharon and I had previously denounced as being antiblack in some form. I can assure you, since I was there for all of this, that gam.iru was not speaking from a place of supposed concern for Korean artists when they made these comments, but rather simply being an ass.

To continue, the reason that their fetishization of dark skin was included in this list, is due to this being an aspect of racism. Talking about how you have a "preference" or whatever for dark skin while repeatedly engaging in antiblack racism and making comments about how hard it is to draw natural hair is disturbing. The fetishization of features associated with blackness, such as dark skin is weird as hell, and I personally take issue with it as a dark skinned person. It may not seem as significant to you, but comments like that make my skin crawl, as fetishistic racism is rather dehumanizing when you're at the receiving end of it.As someone who is dark skinned and female-presenting, I can say that the amount of sexual exploitation that dark skinned black girls go through because of this obsession with our bodies and features is incomprehensibly harmful to our psyche and self image. This fetishistic racism is also known as exoticism, which is what leads to people breeding for the aesthetic (people having mixed race children because they're "prettier") and white people adopting children of color for the Aesthetic, leading to psychologically damaged children who often times will have identity issues, be divorced from the culture, and in the case of white/poc mixed kids raised by white parents, be self hating towards the poc parent's race. This entire supposed "preference" for dark skin, juxtaposed with the fact that they have /only/ dated fairly pale white people is disturbingly fetishistic and made me and other black people who were in group chats with them violently uncomfortable.

Other racist aspects of their behavior during and after our friendship would be their frequent digital blackface and seeming mockery of mentally ill black people, as well as overuse (and misuse) of AAVE and treating black people as the punchline to many of their jokes. I can't explain what digital blackface is well in my own words, but it can be boiled down to a frequent use of black people and the black image as your way of "expressing yourself" (comments like your "inner black girl" or what have you), as a means of further commodifying the black image. Some articles/videos that explain it better than me: [X, X, X]

In regards to mentally ill people, one of gam.iru's favorite subjects of ridicule until only recently (the past 3 months) was a mentally ill black woman who goes by Peaches online. She is a victim of repeated physical and sexual abuse who achieved notoriety in 2017(?) after running away from her home and making money through creating shock videos of eating her own feces, and sex work, when she was roughly 16 years old. Since then, her behavior has become more hideous, with attempts to sell her infant daughter and incidents of public exposure in areas where there are young children, molesting and subsequently murdering a puppy, and intentionally trying to give sexual partners STI's. There are more things that she has done, but I don't wish to go into more detail. I do not in any way intend to defend Peaches' behavior, and have limited sympathy given the severity of the crimes that she has committed. Nonetheless, gam.iru , and people like them, find this behavior-what should be clear cries for help- amusing. I can't express my disgust enough.

Besides Peaches, frequent punchlines to gam.iru's bizarre humor were Wendy Williams, a talk show host whose rage and mental spiral has been played up by media for laughs, and Rick James, a musician who suffered from cocaine addiction and subsequently kidnapped, tortured, and sexually and physically assaulted women and girls on multiple occasions. Gam.iru unironically declared their being a fan of this man despite all of this on multiple occasions.(I really don't want to include every instance of them talking about rick james just trust me when I say it was a lot)

In regards to their misuse of AAVE, it would be inappropriate to call them out without acknowledging that just about every nonblack person I know also makes it a point to overuse and misuse AAVE. AAVE stands for African American Vernacular English, or alternatively BVE (Black Vernacular English). You probably know it better as internet slang or "stan twitter speak". This is another thing that gets misappropriated frequently in modern society, and I don't have the mental spoons to properly explain its history and the extent of why nonblack people using it is icky... to say the least. Being overly critical and outwardly racist towards black people while fixing your mouth to use our own dialogue for a trend is yet again another form of racism, and pretty nasty on their part. They're not the only person who does this or the last person who does it (this is a growing problem in society), but I take issue with them in particular for using AAVE as a joke while also being extremely antiblack.

There are more articles that talk about this issue in detail, but to start here's this one: http://www.dailyuw.com/opinion/columnists/article_b7318c5a-fb7b-11e9-afee-a73bf103f2db.html

Besides racism, personal grievances that I and others had with them were their being uncomfortably sexual in conversation and in sfw spaces. Frequently, when we were friends, they would send nsfw memes in inappropriate locations, or a completely sfw situation would be turned into something unacceptable. The main server that I spoke with them in at this time is a child-friendly server, where we were more than clear on the fact that since there are younger individuals and people who are uncomfortable with sexual jokes here, any subject matter of that category would have to be put in certain channels. They failed to do this, and skated heavily on the fact that they were friends with many of the mods here (myself included, I admit I was too lax with them and their behavior) to evade being temporarily kicked or banned. For personal reasons, I don't want to find images of this subject matter and will not be sending any.

Another unrelated thing that's merely personal beef at this point (so I didn't include it on my story) was their repeatedly mocking/bashing/whatever their friend group from school in my DM's. By repeatedly, I mean on a daily basis. It scaled from being critical of one friend, who they believed had bad art and calling them "ddlg" (don't know their real name) while bashing them, their interests, etc. to repeatedly sending me pictures of their ex and their art and mocking everything about this person's existence. This ranged from their relationship with gender identity to things gam.iru found wrong with their art to bragging about mistreating them during their relationship. Although some of gam.iru's problems with this person were valid, as this individual's behavior on many occasions was unacceptable (will not go into detail), I now understand that this was a form of bullying, and regret all parts that I had in it.I will say that I didn't participate in the mockery of this person's art or their appearance, but my lack of speaking up on how mean gam.iru was being did enable them and give them a platform to be hateful rather than talking out their problems like a mature person would have.

This brings me to my last thing (which kind of ties back into racism), the incident that lead to our final falling out. After a series of comments mocking Kim Seokjin, a vocalist for the kpop group BTS, on June 19, 2019, I did finally ask them to stop.

(DM in question)

After I sent my first DM, they proceeded to go invisible on Discord and leave every group chat or server that I was in. I was frustrated, but I felt that I'd said my piece, so I went to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I was still upset, and seeing that I knew they were awake but had still failed to say anything in response (it was 11 am at this point, so they were awake), I sent another DM, being an ultimatum. At this point I'll admit I was not trying to be nice or cordial at all. I apologize for the vulgarity.

This was the last time that I made any attempt to speak to this person. About a week later, a former mutual friend (who is also more racist, ableist, and what have you but that's a whole other can of worms that I won't be getting into right now! maybe in a few hours though once I've slept) sent this message in the mod chat of the main server that we all frequented, and I responded.

That was the end of the conversation, until October 2019. In a server that I had been in that gam.iru happened to moderate, I noticed that out of the blue I had been removed from it with no warning.

^I contacted the ex mutual friend, and this is everything to be said on that issue.

As of today, June 1, 2020, they have not apologized for any of their actions to any of the parties involved. Accordingly, I will not retract any statements made about them being grossly racist and just gross in general until all other parties involved get their according apologies. If I get wind of them saying/doing shit like this again, I'll be just as vocal on how and why they're racist and gross, and will keep doing so until all other parties get their apologies. I have no interest in ever being affiliated with this individual again, because they have single handedly been responsible for half the drama in my life since 2017 and even if they do manage to grow as a person at some point, the damage has already been done and I want nothing to do with them. They're simply a nasty person and I don't believe that given their history, seeing any performative bs during a time of crisis for the black community is appropriate on their part. Do with this information what you will, and have a nice day.

UPDATE (June 7 2020)-

This user has still failed to apologize and considers all of the aforementioned issues “petty” so yeah I’m keeping this post up.

#honk #blocklist #I'm just making a post on this so I don't have to create another one in the future #long post

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darkangeldesignstudio · 4 years

Text

Dark Horse

Sorry for the late post....self doubt had me by the throat this weekend and I just couldn’t get out of my own head enough to post this on Saturday. I hope you guys like this one, even though it might be a bit cheesy with the musical number. I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. Reblog/comment as you will. I am needy :)

Chapter Eleven: I’ll Always Love You

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Death, Attempted Rape, Strong Language, Mentions of Animal Abuse, and Eventual Smut and Fluff

Setting: Post Civil War era USA. Marvel Cowboy AU.

Preface: Your home is attacked by the Hydra gang and you are rescued by Steve, Bucky, and their group. The government agency, known as Shield, wants them captured and Hydra wants them dead. With nowhere else to go, you join their ragtag group and set out on the adventure of a lifetime. Helping those less fortunate along the way, your small group grows and so does your affection for these two rough and tumble outlaws. When the chips are down, will you all be able to escape unscathed? Or will the boot drop and leave you heartbroken and alone again?

Song: Forever Country by Artists of Then, Now and Forever

Previous / Next

Steve had left you to wait with Natasha, expecting you had a plan to cheer her up while he caught a few more minutes of rest while the rain poured. He wasn’t expecting to fall asleep, but exhaustion gripped him tightly and the sound of rain drowned out his inner musings.

He woke to the sound of laughter and whispering outside his shared tent. Turning to look at Bucky, he saw the small smile on his partner’s face as he sat up from his bedroll. The laughter was musical as it approached his tent; the flap opening just a smidge as Y/N poked her head in and immediately blushed a bright red.

Her eyes were wide, roving over his and Bucky’s bare chests before she could stop herself. Bucky chuckled behind his hand. “See something you like, Doll?”

You eeped a little sound before backing out of the tent in a rush. “Sorry.”

Buck and Steve laughed heartily before pulling themselves up and dressing for the day. The air was warmer, despite this morning’s rainfall. The sun beamed down at them through the trees, quickly drying the ground that it touched. They both watched as you and Natasha roused everyone from their sleep.

It was good to see you both having fun and it brought a particularly wicked grin to both of their faces when Nat walked towards Tony’s tent with a bucket of water. She smirked at them when she passed. “You two embarrassed Y/N something fierce earlier. Let me guess, sleeping shirtless again?”

Bucky chuckled even as a blush climbed his cheeks. “Maybe.”

“You’re welcome.” She sing-songed, giggling before glancing at Steve.

Her eyes softened a bit as she nodded her thanks. Not needing words to convey her gratitude. Apparently she hadn’t been sleeping all that deeply while he had told you her story.

He nodded back to her before going with Bucky to clean up the campsite. A few moments later, a high-pitched yell emerged from Tony’s tent. Everyone had a good laugh as you and Natasha ran from Tony, soaked to the bone from head to toe.

_______________________________________________________________________

After waking up the rest of the group and laughing a bit at Tony’s expense. You had all pitched in to cleaning up the camp while Tony grumbled and groaned about his rude awakening. It didn’t take long before you were all on the road once again.

Bruce and Jarvis rode together, chatting quietly as their wagon filled with supplies bumped along the trail. Pepper and Natasha took up the reins of their second cart, riding just behind Tony on Mark II.

Despite his earlier grumbling, Tony was fairly chipper as he chatted away with Pepper, flirting mercilessly as she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

During the first few hours of your ride, Natasha had been chipper as well. Chatting with Steve as you and Bucky rode ahead with Soldat. But she had grown quiet over the last few minutes, her eyes becoming increasingly clouded.

Everyone else seemed to notice as well and the ride became melancholy and silent the farther along the road you traveled. It pained your heart to see your newfound sister so down. Even Boda seemed affected by the surrounding mood.

Bucky shifted Sergeant towards you before reaching out to place a hand on your knee. “Steve told me what happened. I wish I knew how to help, too. She’s always been like a little sister to me, but even I don’t know what to do.”

You sighed, placing your hand on top of his. “Nothing can replace what she lost, Bucky. Just like nothing can replace what I lost, or what you and Steve lost. I wish I would have never suggested we go this way.”

He gripped your knee, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get your attention as he tried to pull your head out of those dark thoughts. “Hey. It’s not your fault. Besides, this is the quickest way to get where we are going. Nat recognized that, that’s why she agreed to come with us, even though it might hurt to be here again.”

It was in that moment that a thought came to you. “I think it’s about time we gave her something back. Something to wash away the bad.” You smiled brightly up at Bucky’s confused expression. “Thank you, Bucky. I have the perfect idea.”

Drifting to the side, you kissed his cheek before turning Boda back towards Pepper and Natasha. He touched his cheek, a blush creeping up his neck as he watched you ride away. Turning back to the road ahead, he missed the happy smile that alighted on Steve’s face.

_______________________________________________________________________

Trotting up to Pepper’s side of the wagon you smiled when she peered up at you. “Hey, Pep? Do you happen to know any traveling songs? It’s a tad boring riding in silence like this.”

Natasha flinched slightly at the word “song”, but otherwise ignored you. Pepper noticed as well, but didn’t bring attention to it when you shook your head. “I’m not sure, Y/N. I know a few, but it’s all stuff my mom taught me. Not sure if you guys would know them.”

You smiled fondly at her slight blush, her eyes darting between you and Tony. “It’s fine. I’m sure we’ll pick it up after a minute or two.”

Tony smiled, realizing what your plan was. “The boys and I know a few if you would rather us start, Short Stack.”

Your heart swelled at his kindness, even as you rolled your eyes at him. He was a great guy, even if he could be exasperating. “Sure, Tony. If you guys don’t mind. I’d love to hear it.”

He nodded your way before smiling wickedly. “How about it, Cap? Tinman?”

They stiffened in their saddles. Turning in unison to glare at Tony. It made you giggle. Seems like you had more than one reluctant songbird on your hands.

You jogged Bodaway up between your boys at the front of the group. “You didn’t tell me you two could sing. Shame on you for keeping secrets.” You giggled at their twin blushes.

Bucky looked across you to Steve, pleading with his baby blue eyes. “Come on, Steve. Take one for the team here, pal.”

You giggled at Steve’s petulant huff. “Oh, fine. But, you all owe me.”

Drawing a few deep breaths, Steve steadied himself before he began to sing.

Almost heaven, West Virginia

Blue ridge mountain, Shenandoah river

Life is old there, older than the trees

Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads

The smooth timbre of his voice carried softly through the trees and along the past and was soon joined by Bucky’s own voice. His was smokier, with a little lilt at the end where his accent deepened. Soon Tony and Pepper joined in as well, singing the words together. Apparently these boys weren’t the only ones who recognized this song. Jarvis and Bruce joined in on the chorus and set you smiling as their happy voices filled the surrounding air.

You couldn’t help but join in with your own song. Fitting the words together with a seamless harmony that made Bucky and Steve smile along with you.

If I should stay (All my memories, they gather round her)

I would only be in your way (A miner’s lady, stranger to blue water)

So I’ll go, yet I know (Dark and dusty, painted on the sky)

I’ll think of you each step of the way (misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye)

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads

Steve winked at you causing you to blush as you sang along to the chorus with them. You shook your head when you caught his mischievous smile. Even in the middle of trying to cheer up his friend, he couldn’t help but tease you a bit. It was distracting, enough that it caught you off guard when Bucky’s voice belted out the next verse. His voice really was beautiful, a lot like the man himself. Your blush grew stronger when he smiled at you and the chorus began again.

On the road again

Like a band of gypsies, we go down the highway

We’re the best of friends

Insisting that the world keep turning our way

And our way

Country roads (country roads), take me home (take me home)

To the place I belong

West Virginia, mountain mama

Oh, take me home, country roads

Not one to be outdone, you smiled at the two men you were riding with before turning your attention back to Natasha. She sat beside Pepper, trying hard to ignore the voices around her. You could visibly see the struggle in her eyes as she fought back her tears and the sadness that gripped her heart.

She wanted to sing, really wanted to. But she needed one more push before she would allow herself to give in. And you planned to help her get there, with everyone’s help.

Oh, I hope life treats you kind

And I hope you have all you’ve dreamed of

I wish you joy and happiness

But above all this, I wish you love

A sad smile graced her lips before she finally parted them and began to sing with a joy that the rest of her group hadn’t seen or heard in over a year. It brought tears to everyone’s eyes as they joined her in song and watched as the sadness finally began to wash away.

And I will always love you

I will always love you

Take me home, country roads

Take me home, country roads (and I will always love you)

It was then that an unfamiliar voice joined in with Natasha’s. It was faint, but it melded with her’s so well. Everyone faltered a bit, listening as the voice sang out from the trees. Tears began to spill down her cheeks as she dismounted, running headlong into the trees, following the sound of the voice that sang to her heart.

On the road again (I will always love you)

I just can’t wait to get on the road again

Country roads

The life I love is makin’ music with my friends (I will always love you)

I can’t wait to get on the road again

Take me home, country roads

I will always love you

Dismounting with Bucky and Steve, you followed her into the trees as the smooth male voice and sounds of trickling water grew in volume. Coming to the banks of the stream, your heart skipped as you caught sight of the injured man on the opposite bank.

His eyes were full of remorse, voice choked as tears streamed down his face. But he continued to sing to Natasha until she finally joined in with the last words of the song.

I’ll always love you

Steve and Bucky stood on either side of you, frozen to their cores until Natasha broke the spell.

“Clint.”

He smiled at her as she waded through the stream to kneel between his feet. She appeared afraid to touch him, her hands floating just above his skin until he reached up to her, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.

A sob burst from her chest as he gripped the back of her neck and brought her face down to his. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before coming together for a searing kiss that made tears spring to your eyes.

You felt hands grip each of yours, pulling your eyes away from the scene. Bucky and Steve each held one of your hands in theirs as tears of happiness rained down from their blues eyes. They each smiled fondly at you, as if it was your doing that had brought Clint back to them. But, you had nothing to do with it. You only wished for them all to be happy.

And it seemed that wish was finally coming true.

#Dark Horse #Marvel MCU #Marvel AU #cowboy AU #western au #steve x reader x bucky #MCU #reader fic #marvel fanfic #natasha x clint

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npd--bakugou · 5 years

Note

Hey, I saw your addition to the post abt Travis McElroy. I was raised by a parent who had NPD. He was abusive to the point that I had to cut him out of my life, and I was taught to associate all of his abusiveness with his narcissism. I don't want this fact to taint my perception of all people with NPD, and I was wondering if you had any resources that could help me and people like me better understand those with NPD. Sorry if this ask is invasive or triggering, thank you for your time.

First off, I'm so sorry to hear about your shitty parent! I'm glad he isn't being a drain on your life anymore. While having NPD (or any other disorder) never makes someone an abuser, the symptoms can certainly play into abuse. I really appreciate your coming to me for help instead of just going with what you've been taught: trust me when I say I know exactly how hard being wrong can be. I'm lucky not to really have any triggers that strangers can set off, so no worries on that front.

As for resources, unfortunately the pickings are a little slim. There's Travis, who's awesome. There are certain people on Quora who talk earnestly about their NPD that I can recommend you if you're ever on Quora, though for every one of them there's probably fifty neurotypicals who insist that they know everything about us and we're pure evil. There's tumblr and the community here, but that tends to be a bit insular, and furthermore spaces by narcs for narcs are often full of venting that doesn't make for a great first impression. They're like that because there are so few places we can discuss feelings without being judged (and also we tend to be a pretty edgy and dramatic crowd) and honestly I like having spots where I don't feel like a monster for feelings or lack thereof, but they're not quite as informative or inclined to make non-narcs sympathetic as I'd like. You're of course welcome to follow me, or my main, I've got a post kind of blowing up atm so I won't just be able to clock you the second you follow since I'm getting more followers than usual, if you favor anonymity. I can tell you about myself, and why a lot of us behave the way we do, and I think that's about the best I can offer you at the moment.

Primarily, the root of the disorder is that your brain, in response to early-life trauma, decides that you can't be wrong, and you are akin to a deity. That's why a lot of us will get upset and irrational if we get called or criticized on something, even something small, because being wrong is awful and having someone else know about it is worse. It involves this public persona where everybody needs to think you're perfect all the time because otherwise you'll have to consider that you're not. Forming attachments can be hard, but you need people around to give you attention so you don't have to think about why people aren't giving you attention, so often we'll surround ourselves with people we don't really care about just to stave off breakdowns and end up feeling resentful and unfulfilled. Since NPD fucks with empathy, it can be difficult to really grasp interpersonal consequences, or even that other are really people in the same way we are. Personally I have a lot of issues with jealousy over people I actually care about, overreaction to small irritations, and serious pettiness. Personality disorders fall on this weird fault line between mental illness and neurodivergence where they've definitely got some adverse symptoms, but they also can't be "cured" because they're part of who you are. The way they're treated is generally by working to mitigate harmful symptoms, but they aren't all bad.

NPD is something of a spectrum. I'm diagnosed, but I believe I'm on the less servere end of it. Personally, I think this arose out of my ADHD; I always had really bad rejection sensitive dysphoria, and it's easy for me to see how that could've rolled into NPD. I've got a pretty tight leash on my symptoms, and I think that's because of feminine social conditioning. I've had multiple people who've been shocked to learn I was a diagnosed narcissist, because, well... as a girl there's just a lot of shit you simply can't get away with like a man would be able to. If I threw a screaming fit every time I wanted to throw a screaming fit, no one would want to be around me. Not that people should be willing to put up with men who do this, it's bad behavior, but I find that men on the whole can get away with more such bad behavior. It's why women with NPD are more often stereotyped as Queen Bee manipulators, because simply put, no one would put up with us if we acted like unchecked guys. As far as I know, there are no nonbinary narcissist stereotypes. Of course it varies from person to person. For some people it's near impossible to gain the self-awareness or self-discipline necessary to keep themselves in check. This does not excuse their actions, you should still get away from these people if they're hurting you. You should still warn others to avoid their getting hurt. It's just meant to explain why we can be like that.

It isn't all bad. I'm dependable as hell, I'm a good friend to the people I care about, and I tend to befriend introverts who don't stand up for themselves, so never having a shortage of fury isn't always a negative. These are things I take pride in, that fulfill me and allow me to have a few close, fairly healthy relationships actually built on mutual affection rather than just a desperate need for attention.

Man I can talk about myself for ages! Typical, huh? Sorry for rambling, thanks for bearing with me if you've read this far, please don't hesitate to ask me any more questions you might have, and congrats on cutting abusers out of your life! 💖💖💖

#WOW that's long #hmu if you want my main

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skittyskittens · 6 years

Text

Gingerpilot Week Day 4 - Hurt/Comfort

(2112 words, physical abuse, violence)

Armitage is not officially a prisoner. General Organa has allowed him free access to a significant portion of the base, including the lounge he’s found himself in. Some areas, like the hangars, he’s only allowed in with supervision, because no one quite believes he’s truly defected. Armitage doesn’t blame them. Since no one trusts him, no one spends much time with him. It’s lonely, but Armitage doesn’t usually regret his decision to leave the First Order.

When he hears voices heading his direction, he heads for the door. If others wish to make use of the lounge, he knows his presence won’t be welcome. He’s just stepped through the door when he comes face to face with a group of four Resistance soldiers. He starts to squeeze by them, but one of them puts his arm up to block his way.

“Why don’t you stick around, General?” the man asks, slurring a little as he speaks. His friends seem to agree with him and he finds himself pushed back in the room.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Armitage says, trying once again to get away.

“Don’t want any trouble?” They laugh at that. “Too bad you didn’t feel that way before you blew up the Hosnian System.”

“I knew someone on one of those planets,” says another man.

At least two of them are drunk, and Armitage is sure the other two aren’t entirely sober either. He can probably get away from them. All he needs to do is get to the door and make a run for the small room he’s been assigned where he can lock the door and wait for the men to grow bored. But everyone hates him enough and he doesn’t want everyone talking about how he runs away from confrontation.

By the time the first blow lands on his stomach, Armitage has resigned himself to his fate. By the time he’s on the floor, he can hardly even feel it. He’s used to putting up with abuse, from both the former and current Supreme Leaders of the First Order. At least these men are using their fists and feet.

Armitage doesn’t know how long it lasts. He must have passed out because the next thing he knows, he hears a soft beep and opens his eyes to see an orange and white BB unit. He then feels someone touch his shoulder and he can’t help but flinch and curl in tighter on himself.

“Hey, buddy, you’re okay now.” Armitage recognizes the voice but it takes him until he uncurls his body and opens his eyes to remember his name. Dameron. He’s spoken to the man a few times since he’s defected. Unlike most of the others, he’s somewhat friendly. He doesn’t treat him like he’s the scum of the galaxy, at least.

“Do you think you can walk?” Dameron asks. “I can have a stretcher sent for you.”

“I’m fine,” Armitage says, starting to sit up. Dameron puts a hand on his back and helps push him up.

“You’re not fine,” the pilot insists. “Come on. I can walk you down to the medic.”

“No.” Armitage shakes his head. The last thing he wants is to deal with any more Resistance personnel. He doesn’t imagine any of their medics care for him any more than the soldiers. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of this myself.”

“Yeah, well, just come with me.” Dameron stands up and helps Armitage up as well. He finds himself leaning on the shorter man more than he would like. There’s a few beeps that draw Armitage’s attention to the BB unit, who has rolled to stand near the door. “Please, BB-8. Just bring them to my room.”

There’s a few more beeps and the droid rolls away. With Dameron’s help, Armitage manages to stagger out of the room. Walking is painful and Armitage hates how much he’s relying on the pilot, but he doesn’t think he could have made it back to his room alone.

As it turns out, Dameron isn’t any help with that either.

“Where are we?” Armitage asks as Dameron opens a door to an unfamiliar room. It’s definitely living quarters - there’s a bed, a table, a few chairs and clothing scattered all over. As soon as Armitage asks, he realizes the answer is fairly obvious.

“My room was closer than yours,” Dameron says, walking with him through another door that leads to the bathroom. He helps him sit down on the toilet.

Armitage wants to ask why he’s brought him there and why he doesn’t hate him like the others do and is that washcloth even clean? He doesn’t have a chance to ask anything before Dameron is wiping his face off with the cloth that Armitage is certain isn’t clean.

He closes his eyes and tries not to think about what Dameron is doing. He’s incredibly gentle and Armitage knows he doesn’t deserve that. He should have simply dragged him back to his room and tossed him in. Or just left him on the floor. Or given him a few more kicks. It’s not like he would notice.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Dameron says, speaking softly, and that’s when Armitage realizes he’s shaking. He doesn’t know why and he can’t make it stop and then Dameron is holding his hand. Armitage opens his eyes and wants to ask him what he’s doing, but he also decides it’s rather nice. He can’t remember the last time someone had touched him so gently.

They sit in silence for several moments and Armitage knows he should leave. His injuries are well-deserved and he doesn’t need someone taking care of them, least of all the man who destroyed his life’s work. He tells himself he’s going to pull his hand away and tell him as much and then walk out, but he doesn’t move.

Finally, it’s Dameron who moves away, and Armitage can’t help but wonder if anyone will ever touch him like that again. He doesn’t think so. If the soldiers from earlier are any indication, someone will end up killing him soon.

“I need you to take your shirt off,” Dameron says. He’s standing by the sink and rinsing off the washcloth. Armitage opens his mouth to ask why, but Dameron continues. “So I can see your injuries.”

“That’s not necessary,” Armitage says, but his voice is weak.

“You were hurt pretty bad,” Dameron says, stepping back over to his side. “We gotta make sure it’s nothing too serious.”

“I’ve suffered far worse than this before,” Armitage assures him. “I’ll just return to my room and I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“You’ve had worse than four men beating you?” Dameron sounds shocked and is soon kneeling in front of him. “Look, I don’t know what kind of hell you’ve been through but you’re safe now. And here, we take care of each other. You just have to let us help.”

“It was your people who did this,” Armitage reminds him. He didn’t mean to say that. He doesn’t want to talk about it, so he takes his shirt off, ignoring the pain as he does so. Maybe that will distract Dameron from what he said.

It seems to work. Dameron is looking over his body, his hands lightly touching his shoulders. He feels the washcloth on his back and then he’s being hauled to his feet again. Dameron walks him back into the other room and has him sit down on the bed while he pulls up a chair.

“About the - “

Whatever Dameron is about to say is cut off when the door opens and a woman walks through with the orange and white BB unit trailing. She’s carrying a case, which she sets down on the floor next to Armitage.

“What happened?” the woman asks. Armitage notices her armband. A doctor.

“He was -”

“I tripped down some stairs,” Armitage says before Dameron can finish speaking. “It’s nothing too serious.”

“I believe I’ll make that call,” the doctor says. She opens up her case and gets to work. Within a few minutes, she’s finished and packing her instruments back away. “You’ve got some cracked ribs. That appears to be the worst of it.I’ve got bacta to help with the other injuries and I’ll get you painkillers to help with the pain. I’ll keep the documentation on file in case you wish to make a report about these stairs.”

Clearly, his story wasn’t believable, but he has no intention of telling anyone what really happened. The doctor gives him instructions on how to care for his injuries that Armitage half-listens to and then she’s gone, leaving him alone with the pilot. He wants to leave too, but Dameron is soon back at his side.

Dameron is applying bacta to his cuts and bruises, and Armitage knows he should stop him. He deserves the pain and the Resistance shouldn’t be wasting their bacta on him. Because he likes the softness of Dameron’s touch, he keeps his mouth shut.

“I take it you don’t want me to file a report,” Dameron says as he starts putting bacta on his face.

“It’s not worth it,” Armitage says. He’s not worth it. “I deserve what they did to me. Worse, actually.”

“Don’t say that.” “Why not? It’s true. You shouldn’t even be doing this, for that matter.”

“Doing what?”

“This.” He finally pushes Dameron’s hand away like he should have done the moment he touched him. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

The BB unit beeps something, which Poe listens to before he returns his attention back to Armitage. “Apparently, you do need someone to take care of you,” he says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Armitage doesn’t know why he’s engaging in conversation. He should stand up and walk out, head back to his own room where he can suffer in peace and quiet.

“BB-8 says that you haven’t been taking care of yourself. You missed several appointments with doctors and you haven’t been eating. So like I said. Someone’s got to take care of you.”

Armitage finally moves to stand up but he’s in so much pain he immediately sits back down. The pain’s gotten worse since he’s been sitting on the bed. He tells himself that’s why he starts to cry. It has nothing to do with the way the pilot puts his arm around his shoulder and just sits with him.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that but his tears have stopped when he finally manages to speak again. “Why are you doing this?”

“Was I supposed to just leave you lying on the floor?” Dameron asks.

“Yes.” Armitage is serious when he says that. He should still be on that floor, lying in his own blood.

“Don’t think like that. No one deserves to suffer.”

Armitage pulls himself away from the pilot and tries once again to stand up. He doesn’t even manage to make it to his feet this time, so he decides to settle for the best he can do and yells, “I deserve it! After everything I’ve done, I should be beaten and locked up! You’re not supposed to be nice to me! Why don’t you hate me like everyone else?”

“I don’t know,” Dameron says with a shrug. “Yeah, you’ve done some really terrible things but you’re on our side now. You’re helping us defeat the First Order. We really couldn’t do it without you. It might not make up for what you’ve done, but you’re trying. That’s worth something.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so.” He still wants to leave but he’s also glad to have someone who doesn’t completely hate him. Not that he deserves it. He doesn’t try to get up again.

“No, I’m not. There’s plenty of us who are grateful for what you’ve done since joining us. I know it’s late, but I hope you’ll give me a chance to show you that people do care about you.”

Before Armitage can ask what he means, Dameron’s moving to sit slightly behind him and then puts his arm around his shoulder and pulls him back so he’s resting on the pilot’s chest. Armitage doesn’t try to move away.

He finds himself crying again, overwhelmed by the kindness. It’s nice, he decides. Even if Dameron doesn’t mean it, Armitage doesn’t mind. He’s never even had someone pretend to be so nice to him.

Dameron is talking, but Armitage isn’t really listening. He’s simply enjoying the sound of his voice as he starts to drift off, pressed up against his chest. Maybe joining the Resistance wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

#gingerpilotweek2018 #gingerpilot #damerux #armitage hux #poe dameron #general hux #fanfiction #physical abuse #hux is filled with self-loathing #i'm sorry hux #just let poe take care of you

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animentality · 6 years

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This site has two types of annoying people. People who take social justice too far and will whine at you about every little thing and people who’re anti social justice warriors, who’ll literally just mock your intelligence and say vile things because it’s the internet and they like to say things they’d never have the guts to say to your face, in real life.

See, I made some posts about Aziz Ansari and sexual abuse and you know.

I really don’t care for people who’re too gung-ho about social justice and try to make everyone everywhere conform to the same viewpoint. I think that some of them are well meaning but some of them are overzealous and can be harmful to their own causes.

But these people who think that simply telling me I’m dumb is clever.

Or people who tell me some ignorant belief they have that ignores present inequalities in search of “true equality.”

Well they’re simply not worth my time or effort.

“What if you said what you said about MEN about women-“

Then I’d just be feeding the same discourse that’s been said for centuries. Next.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, men are abused as much as women.”

And what stops men from reporting it?

WHO is it that mocks men for being sexually abused?

Because women might do it, sure they can be awful, but it’s a culture of toxic masculinity that says men can’t be victims.

It’s a culture of toxic masculinity which you’re feeding by ranting on the internet about how women are this or that. Women are lying whores, women have it better, why can’t we go back to the good old days where they couldn’t even say no to sex with their husbands?

It’s really sad to me. I read these comments written predominantly by men about how I’m “stupid” because I believe this radical idea that people should be able to do their own thing without being bothered by others.

I’m a private person. Being a person is difficult. Paying bills is difficult. Struggling to feel happy and do something meaningful with our lives is difficult. Finding love is difficult. Finding purpose is difficult. Finding something that staves off emptiness at night is difficult.

Being human is hard. And we don’t help each other with that. Instead we whine about other people’s livestyles, make it harder for people to achieve their dreams.

God.

Why is it so hard for y’all to just accept other people, male or female, deserve to feel comfortable and safe?

Why the fuck do we perpetuate this culture where a man’s sexual needs are more important than a woman’s preferences?

You can’t say we DONT because the fact that EVERY TIME I make a post about sexual abuse, I get someone in my inbox or in my replies who insists that victims are liars.

What world do you live in that every victim is a liar?

What world do you live in where people don’t sexually abuse people in vulnerable positions?

I mean.

I made a post earlier in like ten seconds at a restaurant about how men have porn mode, where they just switch off their brains and get so focused on getting sex that they become completely different people.

It’s just a theory. One of my many thinking games, where I like to detail my own understandings of the world into a theory based on intuition rather than any factual evidence.

I never claimed it was true, just that it was a theory.

And what do I get, a bunch of people with half assed retorts about...

Well, tbh, nothing.

I found nothing worth responding to. All I found was nonsensical gibberish spoken in an angry tone.

I almost felt bad that these people have nothing better to do.

You continue living in your closed world where change doesn’t exist.

You continue believing that the status quo is good and that women don’t deserve safe work or dating environments or that they don’t deserve to be treated fairly by anyone.

I was raised by a good person. I may not be the best person, I may be petty and childish and downright amoral at times, but I’m not the type of person who thinks true suffering is funny. I’m also not the type to mock people who’re scared or humiliated or who feel alone. I joke about being an asshole a lot, but it’s not really true.

In real life, I believe in compassion because the human race is built on it. We needed it, to hold our societies together, to create culture, which in turn created art and invention.

We have a great deal of potential. We’ve been to space, I find that incredible. We can fly, run on water, communicate with one another across thousands of miles, even SEE one another when we’re miles away. We’ve created incredible things, had amazing thoughts, and deep insights about the universe and all it could contain.

So where is your head at, that you think women are inferior?

Or that people of other races or cultures are?

We’re never getting anywhere with that attitude. No species that divides itself into inferior and superior social groups deserves to see the universe. No species that cuts out half of its labor force purely because it possesses a different set of genitals and cultural expectations will have the manpower to lead voyagers into space. And honestly, if we don’t get off this planet eventually, we’ll die out anyway.

So really.

Every time I see people arguing over who’s a liar, who has rights or not, who’s stupid or not, all I think is that this is such childish drivel.

People who don’t care about other people, who don’t care about the struggle of women, of black people, of Latino people, of anyone, are just empty minded. They’re too concerned with how they’re affected by someone else’s suffering.

“Women are being sexually abused? But IM not a sexual abuser. So that means they’re lying.”

It’s sad that that’s all you know, little Timmy Types a Lot.

But forgive me if I’m all out of compassion to spare for you.

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genesisjonesscott · 6 years

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BASIC IC DETAILS

NAMES: Genesis Esperanza Jones-Scott

FACECLAIM: Carmen Carrera, no others

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Transwoman

DATE OF BIRTH & AGE: 4th of July, 1988 & thirty

ORIENTATION: Bisexual, homoromantic

HOMETOWN: Born in Shreveport, Louisiana, properly grew up in Three Rivers

LENGTH OF STAY: Twenty-one years

NEIGHBORHOOD: Oak Haven

OCCUPATION: Horologist and owner of “Phil’s Watches and Clocks”

THE INTERROGATION:

1. Good afternoon, first off I have to ask, are you comfortable? The room isn’t too cold, is it? Did anyone offer you something to drink? Water, coffee, perhaps tea?

Genesis didn’t like police stations. She’d been taken out of her home at five, by a police officer and she’d had to wait in the police station for the social worker to bring her to her first foster family. She didn’t like it here. She wanted to go. “I don’t want anything.” She said, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the armrests of the chair. It hadn’t been this police station, where she’d been but it was similar enough and the memories of the hours before, of her father beating her and her mother just watching, were almost unbearable. It was as if they were clouding her mind, her ability to speak and she just didn’t need this. Not now, not ever. TW: physical abuse, transphobia, homophobia, alcoholism, mentions of physical abuse, PTSD, abortion mention, pregnancy

2. And if you don’t mind, could you please state your name for the record? Is that your birth name? Any aliases we should be aware of?

She swallowed at that question and clenched their teeth. ‘Just go with it, Genesis. Just answer it and the sooner you do, the sooner you can get out of here.’ she thought and took a deep breath. “My name is Genesis Esperanza Jones-Scott. I was born Luis Alfonso Ramirez.” She said, the muscles in her body going even tenser. She didn’t like having to come out as transgender to people she didn’t know, didn’t trust… or you know, wasn’t going to sleep with. Especially police. She didn’t trust them. She had been laughed at before, by police officers while reporting an instance of transphobia and she just didn’t like it. “No aliases.” She finished.

3. Now then, let’s begin with your childhood. What was growing up like for you?

She could feel her stomach turning and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that and I don’t think there is any reason for you to ask me those questions.” They told them quite frankly. She had no desire to talk about her alcoholic parents who bred like bunnies to then hit their children when they got frustrated at each other. She didn’t want to talk about not having clean clothes to wear, not knowing that you actually were supposed to brush your teeth as no one had told her or taught her. She knows that she had two older and three younger siblings when she was removed from the home, but she doesn’t know where they went and if they’re even still alive. She didn’t have a childhood until she was adopted by her fathers at nine. The foster homes were alright, but not very affectionate and honestly, she was dealing with so much trauma at that time that it really is mostly a blur. It was only her dads adopting her that really opened up her world and made her start to trust people again. After six months, she finally accepted a hug and from their the relationship only grew. From then, she did have a good childhood with lots of laughter and siblings, but she didn’t know why in the world she’d want to tell that to these two people. What did it matter?

4. And what about your relationship with your family? Were you close with your parents, or guardians? Any siblings?

Genesis frowned and shook her head. “Seriously, I do not want to answer any of these questions. I want to help you with the investigation, officer, but I do not understand having to bare my soul and past. It isn’t relevant.” She insisted. Of course she was close with her adoptive parents and siblings. They were all she had in the world for a long time. She’d have done anything for them and still would move heaven and earth for them if they asked her to.

5. What was your high school experience like? Did you enjoy it? Did you have a lot of friends, or were you more of a loner? Somewhere in between, maybe?

“Who honestly enjoyed high school?” She asked them, a little mockingly at their question without saying anything more. Again, not relevant in the slightest. She was on the wrestling team and honestly, she was fairly popular. She had a tight group of friends in high school and about five girlfriends in four years. On the outside, she seemed like the all-American boy and looked very happy but she wasn’t. She had always been a little more effeminate, a little softer than most boys but her dads never made a big deal about it. It was a non-issue but when puberty hit, it wasn’t just her interests that didn’t always match with the gender she was assigned at birth. She honestly loathed the developments her body was going through. All the hair, of which she had a lot and quite early as well as the explosion of muscles were pure torture. She had never really known what was different about her. She had never said that she felt like a girl, but she always knew that how people treated her, how they related to her was wrong somehow. While a lot of transgender people speak of knowing they were a girl or a boy early, it wasn’t really a topic in her life. She had so many other things to deal with and when that was finally all behind her, then puberty hit. She’d just settled and then that just completely floored her, the puberty and the feelings that evoked. She’d never felt more uncomfortable but she also didn’t know how to deal with it, what to call it and so, she tried to ignore it. She first thought she might be a gay man, but while she was attracted to men sexually - to some degree - she had more of an inclination towards women and actually had fallen for some girls, while she’d never had that for boys. It was one of the most confusing times in her life and it was just the next tortureous period in her life.

6. So, did you go to college? If so, what for and if not, why? What was your post-high school life like?

She didn’t mind answering this question so much. Besides, she should give them some answers or she’d look suspicious. Her rigid body was probably already making her seem guilty. “I got a certificate of horology, which took a year to get. Then I went to Oklahoma State University’s Institute of Technology in Stillwater, Oklahoma to a two-year training program before I got myself an apprenticeship in Phil Cloud’s shop. After two more years, I became a full-time horologist and when Phil passed a year ago, he left the shop to me. He had no children, you see, so I run it myself now.” She explained, but left out why she made the choice to go into horology. The only nice thing she ever possessed as a child was a pocketwatch. It was broken, but she’d gotten it from her late grandfather and managed to hold onto it throughout foster homes and then had it on her nightstand at her dads’. When she was thirteen, Phil had seen her stare at the pocket watches in the window of his shop - as she still saw pocketwatches as the most precious things - considering it had been for her since she was four. She explained to the older man that her pocket watch was old and broken and he told her that he’d fix it for her, for free as he was very fascinated by the old piece and because he liked her, he’d said. She’d sat next to him in the back of the shop and watched him open it up. She found it even more fascinating from the inside, which made her ask question after question. After he fixed her watch, which was like magic to her, she kept coming back to the shop and took a summer job there when she was fifteen. That is how she rolled into the craft, which she adores to this day.

7. Do you have a reputation around town? How would you say others perceive you?

She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I am the transgender daughter of a gay couple. I mean, I am a conservative’s nightmare, I think. So, I am assuming they aren’t very pleased with me but generally, I throw pretty fun parties at my place. I think a lot of people appreciate that… Maybe I have the reputation of being a little easy?” She said with a chuckle. “But honestly, I am just living my life.” She clarified, though she still wasn’t very comfortable being here. She just wanted to make them happy with her answers so she can get out of here quickly.

8. Can you help me understand your personality? What are you like, both on the surface and deep down? What about in public versus in private?

“I honestly… Once again, I would like to question the relevancy of all of this, because it really is a mystery to me why you’d want to know that.” She said and sighed as she sat back and tried to relax her shoulders. She always carried her stress there. She was a complex person. She seemed pretty laid-back, she liked to party and have fun. She was the first one to open up a bottle of anything alcoholic and the first one on the karaoke stage. She loved trying to get people out of their shell and she liked to make people feel good about themselves… but deep down, she was very insecure. She had a good coming out, as her fathers were extremely supportive and her siblings were the same. Yet, being transgender in today’s America was not great. She has only decided to come out as transgender six years ago and has taken her transition slowly, to really be sure of each procedure, whether that was good for her or not. That means though that for a long time after coming out, she didn’t pass which resulted in transphobic incidents and humiliations. It’s because of one of those that she has learned to disclose she is transgender in a more public place before going somewhere private to do anything sexual with someone. She has been called every name in the book and so she doesn’t feel very lovable. She feels sexy, attractive but she isn’t sure if she’s really worthy of love. Her parents didn’t love her, none of her siblings are looking for her and the mother of her unborn child is ashamed that they are the other parent and don’t want her to tell anyone in town that she’s the other mother of the child she’s expecting. No one really wants her as a partner. As a hot night, for sure, but a partner? Probably not.

9. Leading off of that, what would you consider to be your greatest strengths and weaknesses?

She just wanted to get the hell out of here. She had more to do than answer these questions they’d probably gotten off Plenty Of Fish. “One of my greatest strengths is enduring this torture. Honestly, what are you trying to achieve here?” She wondered. She didn’t really know the answer either. She was pretty resillient, she supposed and pretty fun to be around but she was also insecure and secretive, not really because she had a lot to hide but just because she didn’t trust many people with intimate details of her life and feelings. She needed to really know someone to share her trauma’s with, of which there were many. Some she couldn’t even think about right now.

10. Why don’t you tell me some of your greatest regrets? And what about your greatest hopes?

She smiled. “I hope to that I get to raise my child with her other mother.” Being able to talk about her unborn child was something that was a rare occurance, which she only did with her very best friends and the woman who was pregnant. The regrets, she didn’t talk about though. She regrets not coming out sooner, because then all surgeries she wanted would be behind her and she regrets telling her high school girlfriend to have an abortion and convincing her to, even though she didn’t seem to be quite sure. She regrets being too cowardly to look for her siblings nor see how her biological parents are doing. She regrets not telling the social worker one of her foster mother’s hit her. She regrets a lot of things, but she isn’t about to tell them that.

11. A bit heavier, I know, but I have to ask if anything has happened to you personally in your life that drastically changed you as a person?

“I’d say being put into the foster care system is quite a change.” She said and sighed. “That and finding out I’m going to be a mother. That really has changed my outlook on life and what is important… Now, how long will this take? I do have to go open up my shop by ten.” She told them, just wanting to get out of here now. She didn’t understand why she was here at all.

12. And of course, I have to ask, were you in town when the Preacher Man was drowning people between ‘95 and '98? Did you happen to know any of the original seven victims? What was your life like during those tragic years? What was the aftermath?

Finally, they were getting to the point. She could work with that. “I was placed with the Jones-Scott’s in september of ´97, so I was here when some of the murders were happening. I was only nine or ten years old, though. I didn’t really know anyone who died, not really. I knew it was happening though, I overheard a lot of adults talking about the murders.”

13. That said, did you know either Xavier Bordelon or Sara Mears personally? If so, what was your relationship to them? How much have their deaths affected you?

She nodded at the mention of Sara’s name. “I knew Sara. She once snuck out of rehab and we partied together. I mean… I knew that it wasn’t really good for her, but I was already quite tipsy when we met. I am not proud of it. It wasn’t long after that I heard she was dead. I mean, it did upset me, but I didn’t have much of a bond with her. She’s not the first person I’ve lost in my life and she won’t be the last.”

14. Lastly, Where were you on the nights of March 10th and July 24th and is there anyone that can corroborate your alibi?

"Oh, uhm… On the 24th of July I was alone in my apartement, so no one can corroborate that. I think maybe my neighbor heard me come home at nine pm, but I’m not sure.” She explained and then licked her lips nervously. “And the 10th of March.” She started as she grabbed her phone. “Oh, I was out at the local nightclub until four am before I went home… with some guy. I don’t know who he was. All I know is that he was African-American and over forty. Sorry, I was kind of drunk.”

HEADCANONS:

They have been best friends with the same girl for eight years, since she came to town (Sami), but what started out as a project for Genesis has now developped into more. She wanted to bring the woman out of her shell, bring the sexy to the sweet and just kind of make the woman enjoy life some more but over the years, she has developped feelings for her but they are sure a woman like her would never want someone like Genesis. Sure, she made fine money and she wasn’t all too crazy during the day but her friend knew about her crazy nights, the drinking, the one night stands and honestly, a woman like her wouldn’t settle for someone like Genesis, she thinks.

They have a private pocketwatch collection in the basement of their home, which is worth quite a lot considering they’re broken pieces they bought for a couple of bucks, restored with original parts and are now worth hundereds, some thousands of dollars.

They don’t know it, but they already have a child which was conceived when they were nineteen. A drunken hook up led to a pregnancy, which This daughter, named Floriana, is now eleven and lives a few towns over. The girl is currently looking for their other biological parent, but haven’t gotten to Genesis yet. They might do in some time though.

They have undiagnosed PTSD. It is severe, as it has only started to happen recently. When PTSD occurs six months or longer after the traumatic event it is a lot more difficult to manage. Hearing glass shatter, a man’s shouting and being grabbed by the upper arm, as well as the smell of sweat mixed with cigarette smoke can cause a flashback. It isn’t always the case but it can happen. For the last four months, this has been happening and they’re not quite sure what is going on, as they don’t know what PTSD is exactly. They just think it’s their trauma resurfacing and that it’ll go away, but slowly… they are starting to realize it maybe difficult to handle on their own.

#[ biography ]#[ about ]

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socialattractionuk · 5 years

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Woman gets brutal messages from man she went on one Tinder date with six months ago

(Picture: Getty – Amy Bottrill)

Anyone who has been on Tinder has probably experienced a slightly awkward date.

There’s no real conversation, you both know you haven’t got a connection and you realise it’s not worth meeting up again.

You move on – there’re plenty more dates out there.

Except one man did that and then six months later, he felt the need to go back to his date and tell her she was disrespectful for not getting in touch again and added that he thought she was ‘dressed like she was at a funeral’.

His date Amy Bottrill challenged him about holding a grudge for so long, but he insisted she had ‘some making up to do’ before telling her he wasn’t opposed to reconciling.

Amy told Metro.co.uk: ‘It was just one of those where it was kind of awkward and I thought it was clear that we both weren’t really into it, I was polite but didn’t feel the need to pursue him OR explicitly reject him/explain why I didn’t want to see him again

‘Neither of us reached out, he didn’t make any effort to see me again or contact me/even ask how I was.’

In screengrabs posted on Twitter of their Whatsapp conversation, their last message was on 29 October, after their date when they sent a few messages thanking each other for the evening.

(Picture: Amy Bottrill)

Then the conversation went cold, with neither of them saying anything else until Monday evening, over six months later, when he messaged her saying: ‘Do you know how disrespectful it is to have someone take you out on a date, pay for everything, drop you home, then to never call or text that person back.’

Amy replied: ‘Have you really been holding that grudge for nearly 6 months?’

Despite his abrupt message, it seems he thought it would somehow persuade her to see him again.

I regret to inform you that I have just been roasted to within an inch of my life by this man who bought me one meal in October 2018 and has apparently been seething ever since pic.twitter.com/5iQJdIzCGy

— Amy Bottrill (@bottrill) April 15, 2019

He said: ‘Nope. Life is too short for grudges darling… However, don’t let that stop any reconciling you may have been considering.’

Amy said: ‘I don’t get what this is about but I wasn’t disrespectful in any way, if you wanted to see me again you could have said… but that didn’t happen and I assumed we both didn’t feel much chemistry so I kept it moving.’

He told her she had some ‘making up to do’ before asking her how she is.

When she replied with a pleasant ‘I’m fine’, he tried again to see if they could get chatting again.

He said: ‘Babe. Blow the dust off my number and be nice to me. It took alot for me to reach out to you after the way you behaved so you should be making much more of an effort right now.’

Clearly not taking the hint, Amy spells out that she is not interested but the guy wants to know why.

(Picture: Amy Bottrill)

She explained: ‘Because we had 1 fairly awkward date and you didn’t seem to fancy me or want to see me again, now it’s nearly 6 months later and you think the way to get my interest/attention is by being hostile and entitled and calling me disrespectful? Nah I’m good thanks.’

And then he turned nasty and told her she was ‘dressed like you was attending a funeral of someone you didn’t like…’

Amy later clarified that she wore a low cut black dress with poppers all the was down and four inch heels, so we’re not sure what sort of funerals this guy is attending.

At that point Amy ended the conversation but she took some screengrabs and posted them on Twitter.

ok!!!!! pic.twitter.com/zHCfJpN8ry

— Amy Bottrill (@bottrill) April 15, 2019

She told Metro.co.uk: ‘I frequently share dating experiences on Twitter because it’s something that a lot of single women have to go through, especially when the age of apps and social media has changed how people communicate.

‘I tweeted that without thinking too much because I found it comical how ridiculous it was for him to reach out over so much time in such a hostile/aggressive way to provoke a reaction from me.’

Although she said she thought they were funny, she said that she wants to raise a more serious point about the way men treat women they go on dates with.

She added: ‘Sadly I don’t think this is unusual at all and that’s probably why it’s been shared so much – thousands of women seem to have very similar experiences or even worse.

‘I can laugh about these messages but straight men’s entitlement to women’s time and attention is a real problem and can actually be very unsettling or threatening.

More: Showbiz

Gemma Atkinson’s baby bump sweetly showered with kisses from Gorka Marquez

Random cat walks in to comfort old man post-surgery and they fall asleep holding hands

Janet Street-Porter admits to drugs charges as she schools Gloria Hunniford in awkward row

‘This is an example of a wider symptom that literally hurts or kills women every day – a perceived slight against someone’s ego or a polite rejection can lead to harassment, abuse, stalking or violence.’

The Tweet she posted went viral, with lots of people relating to her experience but she’s received some nasty comments as well.

‘Seeing the reactions has also been infuriating because for all the support, there are dozens of responses saying I brought this upon myself by not being grateful enough to receive a free meal on a first date, not being polite enough afterwards, etc,’ she said.

‘Ultimately people can behave like this whether or not you pick up the bill, no matter how ‘polite’ you are during or after a date, no matter what you wear (and whether it looks like you’re dressed for a funeral or not lol).’

MORE: Subway launches vegan sub and salad

MORE: Lidl launches huge mother and baby sale with prices starting from 99p

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marymosley · 6 years

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Blind Justice or Blind Rage: The Kavanaugh-Ford and the Politics Of Belief

Below is my column in USA Today on the upcoming hearing on the allegations of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford against Judge Bret Kavanaugh. There has been a strange disconnect as Democrats denounce Republicans for rejudging Ford while they announced in advance that they believe her — and by extension they do not believe Kavanaugh. While the Senate is not a court of law, both sides recognize that they are supposed to afford witnesses a fair and unbiased hearing, particularly when the subject is such a serious allegation as attempted rape.

Here is the column:

It is a growing mantra on and off Capitol Hill. Both members and commentators have insisted that Christine Blasey Ford “has a right to be believed.” Hawaii’s Democratic Sen. Mazie Hirono not only has insisted that she and other women alleging abuse “need to be believed,” but men need to “just shut up and step up.” It is a jarring disconnect for members who insist that they confirm a nominee who will approach legal questions with a fair and open mind while dispensing with such considerations in their own treatment of his nomination. The fact is that Ford has a right to be heard and to be treated fairly. Neither she nor Kavanaugh have a right to be believed on the basis for an allegation or a denial.

Throughout the confirmation hearings, Democratic Senators pressed Kavanaugh as to whether he was a lock for business and corporate interests — favoring certain types of litigants and not giving a fair hearing to others. Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse denounced the conservatives on the Court — and by extension Kavanaugh — as changing their approach based on who was making allegations. He decried conservative jurists who spared corporate or business litigation from what they viewed as the “indignity of equal treatment.”

Kavanaugh and Ford deserve blind justice

Yet, the touchstone of legal process is neutral, consistent, and fair review. That means that no one has an advantage because who they are or what they represent or what they are alleging. Law is objective and, yes, blind.

These politicians however insist that blind justice means turning a blind eye to abuse. Various Democratic senators announced within days of Ford’s allegations that they believe her, including Minority Leader Chuck Schumer. Hillary Clinton and others have insisted that the test is whether you believe any woman alleging abuse. Clinton declared “I want to send a message to every survivor of sexual assault … You have the right to be believed, and we’re with you.”

What precisely does that mean? In the case of Ford, she is a highly credible person with a distinguished background as a college professor. However, does that alone mean that you should believe her over Kavanaugh, a person with a similarly distinguished background? Ford has only offered an allegation with minimal factual support. Indeed, she admits that she cannot recall the specific date or specific party involved in the assault. That does not mean that she lacks credibility but no reasonable judge would declare that they believe one party based solely on the initial (and contested) allegation.

It is a curious standard to maintain in this context. What would be the response if a nominee insisted that corporate parties “have a right to be believed” or people had a right to be believed based on their race or their religion? Indeed, judges received far more detailed allegations in the form of complaints in every case but maintain their strict neutrality in judging the case until after testimony and evidence has been fully placed into the record. A statement that a judge “believes” one party would be grounds for immediate removal for a lack of impartiality.

It is certainly true that senators are not judges, but they have repeatedly acknowledged their obligation to allow for a fair hearing. A hearing on an allegation of this kind comes closest in the Senate to a judicial proceeding other than an impeachment trial. Witnesses appear in the expectation that the committee will afford both parties the basic protections of due process, including an open mind. It is not enough to say that your mind can be changed but you are starting with a belief that Ford is telling the truth and Kavanaugh is a liar.

Justice means no preferences, prejudices

This hearing shows more vividly why such impartiality is so important. This is an alleged incident that occurred 36 years ago. Recently, ranking member Sen. Diane Feinstein (D., Calif.) said that she could not recall speaking or corresponding with Ford or her lawyer just days ago.

Yet, members are rushing to the airways to assure voters that they have made up their minds before any hearing. Sen. Richard Blumenthal (D. Conn.) declared “Let me say right at the outset, I believe Dr. Ford, I believe the survivor here.” Others have insisted that they will not allow Kavanaugh to paint Ford as a “liar” by denying her allegations. Of course, Ford is labeling Kavanaugh as a liar in making the allegation. That is part of the zero-sum aspect to sexual abuse cases. Someone is usually lying, but that does not mean that you declare one to be a “survivor” and one a “liar” before any sworn testimony or evidence is put into the record.

Moreover, it is possible to believe Ford while believing that she could be mistaken on the identity of the attacker. It is possible to pass a polygraph examination with a false memory or association.

By the same token, the fact that Kavanaugh can produce former girlfriends and dozens of women who speak highly of him is of little import in judging these facts. He is in no more of a position to claim the right to be believed. It is his alleged treatment of this woman, not all other women, that is at issue. Moreover, Kavanaugh has categorically denied being at this party despite the fact that Ford cannot clearly recall the details of which party and house was involved in the alleged attack.

In 2016, Justice Anthony Kennedy (who Kavanaugh hopes to replace) wrote the majority opinion overturning a conviction based on the bias of the presiding judge. Kennedy wrote “Bias is easy to attribute to others and difficult to discern in oneself.” Members cannot demand an assurance from a nominee that he will approach all cases with an open mind when they are promising voters that their minds are already made up before any testimony is given on these allegations. That is the meaning of blind justice. There are no peaks, no prejudices, no preferences.

Jonathan Turley, a member of USA TODAY’s Board of Contributors, is the Shapiro Professor of Public Interest Law at George Washington University. Follow him on Twitter: @JonathanTurley

Blind Justice or Blind Rage: The Kavanaugh-Ford and the Politics Of Belief published first on https://immigrationlawyerto.tumblr.com/

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exosmutxoxo · 7 years

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Dorm Disorder (Chapter 2) 🌙

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone for giving the first chapter of Dorm Disorder over 100 notes! I didn’t expect this series of mine to reach such a peak and for that, I’m endlessly grateful to all my lovely followers

Character Appearances: OCs, Kris, Luhan, Chanyeol, Amber, some BTS members

Warnings: Mentions of claustrophobia, social anxiety, PTSD, abusive parents, flashbacks, light violence

Word Count: 8426

NOTES FOR UPDATE: 100

Chapter 1 | CHAPTER 2

By the time the mess has been cleared up, it’s nearly eight and none of us have eaten dinner yet. Chanyeol emerges from upstairs with Sophia in his arms and comes to sit next to me on the couch. We sit in silence until I finally ask, “Does that happen often?”

Chanyeol bites his lip. “Kai…he’s been having a rough time. For years, in fact”.

I’m focused on Chanyeol now and I don’t really like where this is going. “Why?”

“He never really told us the full story but his post-traumatic disorder hit the severe stage late last year. I know how he feels because…well, I have just recovered from a disorder myself”.

I smile at him. “I’m glad you’ve recovered. What disorder was it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Social anxiety”.

I nod understandingly and Sophia crawls into my lap, grinning up at me. I stroke her hair and turn my attention back to Chanyeol whose normally-cheery expression has turned to a solemn one. “About Kai…” I begin, “is he on medication?”

“Yeah. He’s been taking them, that’s why he isn’t so bad now. We’ve seen worse last year”.

We hear the click in the lock and the door swings open as Kris enters, pulling off his shoes and setting his cello case on the floor. “Hey”, he says.

“Hey”, Chanyeol resumes his cheery self. “Dude, are you up for dimsum tonight?”

Kris laughs. “You guys haven’t eaten dinner yet? Alright then, I’ll get the car ready. Where’s Kai?”

“I won’t be going”, I say hastily.

Sophia lifts her head from my lap and chimes in, “If jiejie isn’t going, I’m not going either”.

Chanyeol and Kris finally leave the dorm, leaving me and Sophia and Kai behind in the empty living room. Kai goes up the stairs, leaving Sophia and I alone, for which I’m glad.

I lift her up to a sitting position. “Okay Sophia, remember our earlier conversation about Lulu? Can we talk about him again?”

She nods eagerly, her pigtails flapping forward. I take a deep breath. “Alright, so you said Kris gege said Lulu is a troublemaker. What does he mean by that?”

Sophia frowns in concentration. “Kris gege said that Lulu is a bad man. He does bad things and he also told me to stay away from him. But I like Lulu a lot”.

Ciara, he isn’t what you think he is.

Nobody is.

Of course Luhan isn’t who I think he is. I’ve known him for oh, I don’t know, a total of forty-eight hours? But that doesn’t mean I know who Kris is either, for that matter. Who the hell does he think he is, trying to paint Luhan’s name in a bad light? I realize that my hands are balled up into fists and I force myself to uncurl them. Don’t let the disorder take over you.

Sophia is looking up at me curiously. “Lulu is nice”, she insists, trying to put emphasis on the last word.

I pull her into my lap. “You like him, don’t you Sophia?”

She nods vigorously and I squeeze her to me. “That’s all that matters”.

Because children always tell the truth, don’t they?

“Bro!” Suga calls from the corner table in the club where the whole gang is seated with him. He waves and Luhan waves back, manoeuvring his way through the throngs of people.

When he finally reaches their table, they scoot over to make space for him and he slumps in the seat, sighing loudly. They look at him questioningly, Jungkook already prepared to deal out the cards for their usual game of blackjack. “What’s up?” Suga asks.

Luhan takes the lit cigarette Namjoon is holding out to him and inhales deeply. “My dad is coming after me for money again. After so many years of treating my mum and I like horseshit, he still has the nerve to come back and demand from me as though I owe him something”.

“Why don’t you just give him a sum and tell him to bugger off?” Suga suggests.

“What bloody sum? I won’t have anything left for myself at the end of it”.

“Bro, what are you talking about? You’re from a wealthy family and you’re earning big bucks because of our band. Just give him fifty thousand and tell him to get lost”.

Luhan remains silent, the cigarette dangling from his lips like the gangster he portrays himself to be. But is he really one? Or is this another something to take his pain away? He exhales absently, his thoughts drifting away once more. “Why should I give him anything? He left when I was eighteen and as for the wealthy family thing, that doesn’t even count. My mum is enjoying her own life with another man and we haven’t talked to each other for the past seven years. Hold up, who the hell am I kidding? We probably haven’t had a proper conversation ever since I was kid because she was so busy quarrelling with my ass of a father”.

The gang listens to his rant quietly, arms folded. “You know”, Namjoon finally speaks up, “you never really told us why you don’t just ignore him”.

There it is. That hard-hitting statement that Luhan has been praying no one would say. However, before he can come out with a shitty excuse, a scream is heard from the exterior of the club and a group of six men come storming up to Luhan’s table threateningly.

“Lu!” The head of the group roars and from behind him, Luhan can already sense that his own gang is as stunned as he is.

The man goes right up in Luhan’s face and yanks at the collar of his leather jacket. “Thought we couldn’t track you down, eh? Well, we’re standing here in front of you in flesh and blood and I think you owe us something”.

“Luhan, what the hell is going on?” Namjoon asks, standing up.

The group of men turn their attention to Namjoon and grin. “Well”, one of them say, “your friend here has gotten involved with us so-”

While the group is distracted, Luhan aims a rock-hard punch on the chin of the guy gripping onto his collar. Instantly, he feels his knuckles split and the guy howls in pain, blood spurting out of his mouth and onto the floor. Luhan is disoriented for a moment, the memories and flashbacks clouding his brain. He sees sixteen-year-old him in the exact same predicament back in high school. It was after school hours and he owed a gang a huge sum of money but he couldn’t afford to pay them back because he refused to take any money from his parents. One of the gang members had lunged at him, triggering a fight. Even in his teenage years, Luhan was angry. Angry at life. He’d thrown a punch at one of the guys and somehow, the fight got even more serious until a teacher overheard them and pulled them apart.

Now back in the present, Luhan blinks from the sudden flashback and narrowly avoids being hit by one of the guys. His own gang hurl beer bottles at his attackers and suddenly, Luhan is lifted up from behind and thrown onto the table. The table explodes under his weight and he curses, wiping away the blood that’s seeping underneath him. He gets to his feet and throws punches at his attackers but they’re too strong for him and his gang; Namjoon is kicked in the stomach, Jungkook receives an elbowing at the back of his head and Luhan himself gets punched right across the mouth.

“Guys, we gotta go!” Jungkook yells from somewhere in the distance and Luhan can see why he said that; the group of men are pulling out knives from their pockets and advancing on them like how a wolf would approach its prey. Luhan jumps up and bolts for the back door of the club, the rest of his gang hot on his heels. They hop on their bikes and speed off down the road. Luhan’s heart pounds furiously and he knows that he’s been busted. His father’s minions have tracked him down after so many years. Bloody, bloody hell.

After tucking Sophia in for her bedtime, I wander downstairs once more, idly wondering what to do now. Kai went to bed early and Chanyeol and Kris are still not back from dinner so I’m left to my own devices.

Toying with the pack of cigarettes Kai passed to me earlier on, I pull on my sneakers and quietly leave the dorm, locking the door behind me. I make my way down to the fairly empty town square, lighting up a menthol cigarette as I do so. The town square is deprived of people as it’s already past eleven and I’m glad for that. The food stalls are shut and the street buskers have all packed up and gone home but I still stop by each stall to study it carefully as though it’s open.

Then I’ll move on, exhaling a cloud of menthol smoke into the cool night air. The little red bracelet on my right wrist catches my eye and I hold my wrist up to stare at it; although it wasn’t given by him personally, it still reminds me of Luhan. With all of the chaos that I had endured in the past few hours, with Kai having a breakdown and destroying all of the glasses in the kitchen, Chanyeol revealing that he had suffered from a disorder a short while ago and Sophia confiding in me about what Kris thinks about Luhan, our little outing seems like days ago.

I linger by the fountain for a while, my thoughts going hazy for a moment. All I can focus on is the cigarette between my fingers and the murky images clouding my mind. The bracelet dangles from my wrist, hovering over the scars embedded into the tender skin. I yank my jacket sleeve over it, not wanting to think about why I even self-harmed in the first place.

Then I really start to think; images of a leather jacket, fair skin and tight jeans fill my head and I inhale deeply, allowing the cigarette smoke to clog up my lungs the way my mind is clogged up with those images. It gives me a temporary high feeling and I wonder if this is how my mum felt when she was a junkie. However, as soon as the cigarette starts to run out, so does my temporary happiness.

Luhan pulls up in front of the dorm, his heart in his throat and the blood roaring in his ears. He’s still in a state of shock from being attacked by his father’s minions and his gang had advised to go straight back home to have a good rest. So here he is. He stares up at the dorm building mournfully, feeling a bit weirded out. It’s been so long since he last returned to the dorm before midnight and it gives him a strange sense of déjà vu; when he was younger, he never really went home before dusk although he had practically everything in that huge ass mansion that he used to live in with his parents back in China. His mum still stays there up to today but she’s probably in Paris, eating macaroons at the top of the Eiffel Tower with her new boyfriend at this very moment.

To Luhan’s surprise, he feels a pang of hurt in the pit of his stomach and his chest starts to tighten. Although it was tremendously horrible when his parents were together and always at each other’s throats with his father slapping his mum around, it feels equally horrible that they have moved on with their own lives so quickly, leaving him behind as usual. Even when the divorce was settled and his dad had packed his bags and moved into his new girlfriend’s house, his mum had never made the effort to open up to Luhan although it was only the two of them left in that bloody huge, empty mansion. His childhood was full of neglect, swear words and abuse instead of bicycles and sandboxes and it had just pushed him further and further into that black hole of depression. Poor, little rich Lulu.

Luhan is snapped out of his thoughts when he hears the pitter-patter of footsteps coming from behind him. He tightens his grip on the handles of his bike, ready to flee the hell away should it be one of his father’s minions coming after him. The shadow approaches him and he tenses instinctively…until he catches a glimpse of a chopstick pushed aggressively through the girl’s bun that’s piled on top of her head. He relaxes against the seat of his bike, smiling at her although he’s suddenly self-conscious of his split lip and the bruises along his jawline.

Ciara smiles back but that smiles start to fade, replaced with a frown as she notices the state of his face. He holds his breath as she comes closer to inspect him, brow furrowed. “What happened?” She asks.

“Assassinating did not go so well tonight, apparently”.

She smirks and lets out a chuckle, the little dimple prominent in her cheek. “Yeah?”

“I guess so”.

“I’ll take your word for it, then”.

Luhan can’t help but grin shyly. “So why are you out so late?”

“Eleven is not late”.

“True. Tired?”

“Nope, I function better at night”.

“Well then, lets go”.

I stare at Luhan for a while, trying to figure out if he’s being serious or not. I’m used to going out late at night by myself but now that someone else is offering to go with me, I’m at a loss for words. And again, it’s like seeing myself in that other person. Warning bells go off in my head when I recall what Sophia told me about Kris saying stuff about Luhan but somehow, I find myself ignoring those bells and stepping closer to him. “Where?”

“Anywhere. The world seems so much more interesting at night, doesn’t it? Late night adventures, late night conversations, late night snacks. Everything sounds so much more beautiful when you add the word ‘night’ to it”. He’s weaving his words in the most beautiful way again and I feel myself smiling, the warning bells long gone. But there’s a catch.

“I can’t leave Sophia in the dorm. Kai’s inside but he’s asleep”. I’m surprised at how concerned I am for a child I barely know but I’m growing to like Sophia a lot so I guess it figures.

An understanding look passes Luhan’s face and he nods. “Alright. We’ll go in and keep an eye on her until Kris gets back”.

I’m about to agree when a car pulls up beside where we’re standing. Chanyeol’s car.

Chanyeol and Kris get out of the car, immersed in their own conversation but they stop when they catch sight of Luhan and I standing there. Chanyeol gives us a cheery wave and hops up the two steps to unlock the door to the dorm and makes his way in, yawning loudly. Kris lingers behind, his wary gaze hovering over the two of us as he slowly walks his way around us to get into the dorm. The door swings shut behind him and I roll my eyes, turning back to Luhan. He holds out a helmet to me, smiling, and I take it and smile back.

For nineteen years, no one has ever made me feel so comfortable in their presence and the fact that I’m an experiencing this at such a late age makes me feel like as though I’ve missed out on the greater things in life.

So here I am, just casually sitting on a rooftop garden while staring out at the night lights of Vancouver with a cute biker boy next to me who’s chatting away about life being better at night. I’m enjoying this feeling way too much and that anxious feeling is coming back to haunt me again; having deep talks with people I barely know is not something I do often because due to my upbringing, I learnt to keep my distance because I don’t want to experience what my mum went through with my un-dad-like father.

But now, as I listen to Luhan’s soft, vanilla-y voice rambling on, something deep in me has been unlocked. He’s talking a lot but he’s not revealing anything about himself, which intrigues me. We’re skimming on the surface by not going into the personal details about each other and I’m interested in what he has to say, whether it’s about his personal life or not. I want to lose myself in him and forget about what my past has to say. I just want to listen to him. And talk to him. And listen to him somemore. Oh God, communication has never felt so good.

Luhan has fallen silent, snapping his gum, the winterberry scent of it filling my nostrils and reminding me of menthol cigarettes. Without thinking, I pull out the pack of cigars Kai gave to me and offer it to Luhan. He raises an eyebrow, smiling as he pulls out a stick and lights it up, thanking me as he does so. I light one up as well and we sit in companionable silence, inhaling and exhaling into the breeze.

“Do you ever wonder what’s the point of life? Why are we put on this earth, only to die at the end of it?” I ask so softly that I doubt he even heard me. But he does. And I’m anticipating his response, eager to hear more beautiful words tumbling out of his rosebud lips.

“Well”, he begins, “life is a mystery. And it’s our job to figure out how to solve those mysteries before the time comes for us to leave this world”.

I consider that carefully. “You always have a way of making everything sound so deep and meaningful”.

“Sorry”.

“Don’t be. I like it”.

He chuckles quietly, blowing a perfect smoke ring into the air. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriends are overrated. Why give your heart to people when you can devote your whole soul to something that doesn’t break your heart, like music? But going back to your question, yes, I do have a boyfriend, although it’s not exactly human. My violin has never broken my heart or screwed with my emotions, unlike the people in my life”.

“That sounds so beautiful, to be honest. I like it when you talk passionate to me”.

I feel myself flush scarlet. Is he flirting with me? There was a teasing tone to his voice but not in the way like he’s laughing at me; it’s more like he’s just so sincerely happy that he can’t contain the cheekiness in his tone.

“Don’t mind me asking, but are you a virgin?”

Luhan frowns, revealing the adorable little dimple in between his eyebrows. “Nope. I’m a little too old to be a virgin, don’t you think?”

I say nothing, too inexperienced in that area to make a comment. To me, sex has always been as overrated as having boyfriends; so it makes you feel good, as people claim. But then what? It’s just a temporary high, just like cigarettes and alcohol, so why do people give up their morals and values to allow another person to use their body? My whole life has always been a huge “and then what?”.

When I was younger and the divorce was through, I was just thinking, and then what? What’s gonna happen to my father, what’s gonna happen to me? When I used to cut myself on my wrist, I was wondering, and then what? What was I gonna do about my scars? How was it going to help me to take away the pain completely?

So now, as I gaze up at Luhan’s angelic face which is reflected by the night lights in the distance as he stares out at the city life, I start to wonder what’s going to happen next.

I’ve just met this incredible cutie who happens to ride a bike and wear all leather and have a smile that resembles honey and a talent of weaving his words into the most beautiful sentences ever constructed and my brain feels like it’s clouded with cotton candy. I’m incredibly lost and confused and intrigued all at once and it’s all because of one smile. One deep conversation. One person. I’m digging my own grave by having deep, soulful conversations with a person I barely I know and the problem is, I don’t mind falling into that grave. I don’t mind at all. In fact, I want to fall in it.

And all I’m thinking is, and then what?

Mondays. I hate that word almost as much as I hate school. For the whole weekend, I’ve done nothing except lie in bed after that deep, soulful night with Luhan on Friday and occasionally practice my violin. But other than that, I’ve been wasting my time by wandering around the dorm in a daze, thinking about nothing in particular.

Chanyeol had noticed how spaced out I was and we spent some time together, talking about stuff on the surface and I had requested for him to play a tune on his guitar. He’d agreed and the two of us sat on the window seat of his room for two whole hours, discussing about music as he strummed various tunes. He’s a gifted guitarist, that boy. After the whole hoo-hah on Friday evening with Kai freaking out and breaking all the glasses and Chanyeol suddenly confiding in me about his own social anxiety as well as Kai’s post-trauma disorder, I suddenly saw the dorm painted in a different light; it’s like the dark side of this “home” has suddenly been revealed and it makes me feel comforted for a strange reason. It’s like I blend in somewhere, for once. An eerie bond has formed between Kai, Chanyeol and I over the weekend, whether we like it or not, and I’m okay with that.

But it’s Monday and my alarm is screeching in my ear and my eyes are still sewn shut with sleep. School starts in an hour and the mere thought of it already exhausts me.

Forcing myself to sit up, I slap the alarm off, crawl out of bed and sleepwalk to the bathroom. Even in my half-dead state, my mind is still racing with the thought of going down to the kitchen and seeing Luhan once more; it’s a similar feeling to how I felt in the past whenever I came home from school, anxious to find out if my parents were fighting or whether my father had been drinking. But right now, it’s not as scary. I’m getting that stupid cliché “butterflies-in-my-tummy” feeling and I just feel dumb. When I’m done with my shower and finally making my way down the stairs and in the kitchen, a tidal wave of disappointment crashes over me when there’s no sight of a leather jacket, tight jeans or a smile like honey to welcome me into the kitchen or wish me good morning.

Feeling furious at myself, I turn on my heel and stomp out of kitchen, pull on my shoes and my violin case over my shoulder, leave the dorm and slam the door behind me.

Luhan knows he’s in deep shit the moment he steps into the deserted club and sees his gang waiting for him at their usual corner table, their arms folded tightly across their chests. His leather jacket suddenly feels like the weight of the world on his shoulders and he tugs at it to restrain it from sticking to him like a second layer of skin. The last time he saw his gang was on Friday night when they were on their bikes and racing away from his father’s thugs, leading to them splitting up and going back to their homes to avoid further trouble.

But Luhan lives for trouble and that’s exactly why he came down to the empty club in the daytime because he knows they’ll all be waiting for an explanation for him. And give it to them, he will, because Luhan is no coward. Or is he?

“Guys”, Luhan says, giving them a nervous smile. “Hey”.

“Lu”, Namjoon responds sharply. “Explain. Now”.

Luhan swings his gaze around, studying his surroundings to avoid all eye contact with any of them. The stage that they always perform on seems to be mocking his lack of ability of telling the truth to his own friends and he squirms, gazing at Suga’s drums and his electric guitar leaning against the nearby speaker.

“Well…” He begins calmly, sliding his hands into his pockets in case any of them saw how his fingers were trembling. “It was nothing, really. Those guys…they were just part of some stupid punk, frat-boy gang back in high school. I used to get into a lot of trouble with them back then so I guess they’re back for more. Why they pounced on you guys, I have no idea. I’m really sorry”.

Luhan, you lying, manipulative bastard, he thinks to himself grimly. He’s going to need to smoke his way through a whole pack to lift this weight off his shoulders.

His gang says nothing, their mouths set into emotionless, grave lines. Luhan shifts from one foot to the other uncomfortably, until Suga speaks up. “We were scared shitless, man. What the hell did you do to make them so hyped up about killing you?”

Luhan smiles queasily, unable to absorb the fact that they actually bought his shitty bullcrap. He’s feeling horrible about lying to his friends, of course, but breaking the whole story to them will make things messy and the last thing he wants is for them to get hurt again. Plus, he’s not ready to tell them the entire sob story. He probably never will be. “Nothing much. I was young and rebellious so that pretty much sums up my high school life”.

They laugh together good-naturedly. “Bro, you still are”, Jungkook smirks.

Luhan smiles wistfully. “Yeah. Yeah, I still am”.

I have no damn idea why I’m here again but somehow, I ended up making a beeline for the music room on the second floor where Kris is playing on his cello. I want answers directly from the source and when I want something, I always get it. For the entire weekend, after having a little heart-to-heart with Sophia on Friday evening, I’d been thinking and overthinking about what she said about Kris mentioning to her that Luhan is a troublemaker.

Ha. Kris doesn’t even know me that well so he doesn’t know the true definition of troublemaker.

The deep, mellow sound of his cello fills my ears as I near the music room and I pause for a while, allowing the pure music to cleanse my soul. Then I twist the knob and push the door open quietly, peeking in to make sure the correct person is inside. Sure enough, it is.

Kris catches my eye and smiles up at me, continuing to draw his bow across the strings as smoothly as Kai’s dancing or Luhan’s laughter. I watch him as the music pours out of his soul, represented by that particular instrument that’s resting in between his legs. Honestly, I’d not expected to be living in a dorm with three other musicians and even the thought of it pleases me.

Kris finally draws out the last note passionately and sets his bow down delicately, turning to look at me. “Ciara”.

“Kris”. I step through the doorway, folding my arms thoughtfully. “About the last time we spoke…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to bring up the topic of Luhan so rashly, especially since the two of you are so close”.

I laugh, but not in a you-are-so-fucking-hilarious way; it’s more of like an are-you-fucking-kidding-me way. “We’re not. You don’t even know me that well and when you do, you would know that I’m not close to anyone. Anyone. Now that we’ve gotten that clear, I’m here to ask you something”.

My harsh, domineering tone seems to have traumatized Kris, judging by the pale and stunned expression on his face. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Okay”.

“What did you really tell Sophia about Luhan?”

The hard-hitting edge of my question causes Kris to stop in his packing of his cello. He zips up the case and slowly gets to his feet, his height towering over me. “What did she say?”

“Something along the lines of a troublemaker”.

“Oh. Look, can we leave this place and then talk about it? I can’t think straight at the moment”.

“Alright”.

We wander out of the school gates, Kris dragging his cello case behind him while I deal with my own violin. The two of us cross the bridge that overlooks the river that snakes its way downtown and I wait expectantly for him to carry on from where we left off.

He takes a deep breath and begins. “Yes, I did say that. I just didn’t like the thought of her getting too close to him”.

“Why? What has Luhan done to make you think like that?”

“He didn’t do anything to me directly. It’s just…I don’t really approve of him”.

“Sophia likes him. She’s a child and when children like someone, it’s a good sign. Plus, she’s your little sister. You’re overreacting, Kris”.

“That’s because she doesn’t know that he’s always out late at night and doing God-knows-what. And yes, she’s a child. That’s the whole point, Ciara. She’s so young, what does she know? How would she know that her dear little Lulu is probably getting into trouble every night?”

I remain silent but my mind is screaming with a whole load of incoherent thoughts. Deep down, I know that Sophia isn’t as naïve as Kris makes her out to be. I saw that look in her hazel brown eyes that night when Kai was having a breakdown and I know that she fully understood what was going on. She’s not stupid, she’s sensitive to how people act. I was in her shoes a long time ago.

“So why did you tell me to be careful of him?” I ask softly, stopping in the middle of the bridge and looking up at Kris directly in the eye.

He frowns. “Because you should be. Ciara, he wears all black and has multiple piercings and he rides a bike and smokes and stays out all night. Doesn’t all of that sound dodgy to you?”

That familiar sense of rage rises in me and it brings me back to the times when I would be so angry at everything in my life that I would punch or break something.

“So what if he wears all black? Why can’t he? I dress in a non-girly fashion, why don’t you say anything about that? You and I both have multiple piercings on our ears. You even have a small tattoo on your arm but I don’t judge you for that. Kai and I both smoke as well. And so what if Luhan rides a bike and stays out all night? Maybe he prefers bikes to cars and that doesn’t really concern you in the first place. As for the staying out all night, why do you care? It doesn’t bother you in any way so why are you judging him for that? He’s twenty-six, he can do whatever the hell he wants. You’re clearly contradicting yourself here, bro”. I pause for breath, still bristling with irritation. If only Kris knew how screwed up my family is; he would be judging me until pigs fly.

Kris grits his teeth in annoyance. “I think we both know who has been with Luhan for a longer period of time. You don’t know him at all, Ciara. I’m telling you this for your own good”.

“How do you know what’s good for me or not?” I shoot back. “We’re not more than three years apart so don’t even dare to say you have more experience. You don’t even know me at all, you don’t know what I’d went through for the past many years so don’t you fucking dare to tell me what’s good for me. Anyway, if you know Luhan so well, tell me what he does when he’s out all night. Go on”.

Kris is carefully avoiding eye contact with me now. “I rather not tell you that”.

“Bullshit!” I snap. A few passer-bys turn and stare at us curiously, eyebrows raised but they hurry away when I glare at them. “That’s just utter bullshit. You don’t even know him that well”.

“If I don’t know him that well, why the hell would I have been in the waiting room of the therapist’s office back in Singapore where I saw you? I was waiting for Luhan, that’s why. He was in the midst of a therapy session, Ciara”.

My heart misses a beat. Luhan in therapy. Gosh, we’re more alike than I thought. Instead of being horrified or whatever, I’m more intrigued than I have ever been. Why was he in therapy? What dark secrets does he have? How can someone so bold and confident of himself possibly be so fucked up in the head that it landed him in therapy? I have so many questions but this is not something I’m keen of discussing with Kris, who is still frowning down at me. I look up at him.

“Okay, then”, I say quietly, feeling a major bipolar moment coming on that is making me feel strangely calm. “Thanks for the information”.

Luhan stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray by his elbow and stands, pushing his chair back. It’s four in the afternoon and the entire club is deserted at this kind of time, besides for him and the bartender polishing glasses behind the bar. His gang had told him farewell and vamoosed a short while ago because they were going to hang out with their girlfriends downtown. They had pleaded with Luhan to go along but Luhan had declined.

One reason why he wasn’t so keen on tagging along with them was because he was the odd one out, the only one without a girlfriend. He’d never really thought about having a serious relationship due to his commitment issues but the real reason is because he doesn’t open up easily and he’s still waiting for the right one to come along. Sure, he’s had a lot of sex in the past few years but to him, that wasn’t opening up.

His definition of opening up is having someone to talk to about his past, his air-headed mother, his abusive father, his mental disorder and just anything under the sun. He wants to share his thoughts with the right one and to get to know the other party well and talk about scars, dreams, ambitions, feelings and aspirations. Luhan didn’t and still doesn’t understand the definition of love due to his family background but he wants to find out. The problem is that he doesn’t know how, which is why he turns to sex, cigarettes, alcohol and music to numb the sliver of hurt in his heart.

Running a hand through his tousled black hair, he steps up onto the stage, plugs his guitar into the speaker and cranks it to warm up. Then, mustering up a deep breath, he turns the volume of the speaker up and cranks his guitar furiously, allowing the angry, electric tune to wash over him and cleanse his soul. He goes on, cranking a tune that fills the entire club and bounces off the walls like the demons in his head.

His heart is in his mouth, sweat forming on his forehead and at the back of his neck as he lives in his own rock-filled paradise, getting high off the satisfaction of spending time with his beloved instrument. Music gives him the sort of high feeling that sex or cigarettes don’t and for that, he’s glad. For just a few minutes, it’s just him and his guitar in their own world. No one else. Just him and the music washing over his entire body.

As Luhan pushes open the door of the club and steps out of his musical sanctuary into the outside world, the sunlight blinds him temporarily and he squints, stumbling over to his bike.

Hopping on, he rides his way downtown to his therapist’s office, his hair fluttering in the breeze. It’s a sunny afternoon in Vancouver and for a while, Luhan loosens his grip on the handles of his bike and leans back a bit, closing his eyes and enjoying the wind whipping against his sweat-drenched face from his earlier rock moment back in the club.

An image of a chopstick stuck aggressively through thick, black hair and defensive dark eyes pops into his mind and his eyes fly open as he narrowly swerves his bike to avoid collision with a car. Sucking back a sharp intake of breath, he accelerates and pulls up outside the building of Amber’s office, shaking his head to clear the thoughts. He swings off his bike, adjusting his jacket and wandering into the reception area, pushing his sunglasses up. Kitted out in his bad-boy outfit, Luhan looks like a Greek God compared to the dull-looking secretaries milling about the building, sipping from Styrofoam cups of cold coffee.

He makes his way further into the waiting area, his black boots thudding against the wooden floorboards threateningly. As he breezes past the reception desk, he can sense the receptionist gawping at him, her jaw slacked and neatly-plucked eyebrows raised with interest. Luhan smiles to himself, carefully looking straight ahead and avoiding eye contact at all costs. He was never really used to flirting with girls and he didn’t plan to start. Girls flocked to him like moths to a lamp and he preferred to keep it that way rather than going around and flirting like a pretty boy.

He hurries past the practically drooling receptionist and knocks on the door of Amber’s office. Amber is his therapist and she is cool, unlike the therapists he’d endured in the past. She was probably a hippie in her past life and she has tomboyish hair and kind, blue eyes, which makes her look approachable and cool.

“Come in!” She calls out sunnily and Luhan pushes the door open and steps into her airy office, already at ease. “Luhan!” She smiles. “It’s been a while. Sit down, dear. Chinese tea with no sugar, right?”

Luhan’s smile widens. “Yes, please. Thank you so much”.

Amber waves her hand in the air dismissively, pouring Chinese tea into a little cup for him. “I would offer you vodka but I finished it all last night”. She laughs uproariously and Luhan joins in, taking a sip of his tea and thanking her once more.

Once Amber has calmed down from her little joke, she slips on her trendy specs and gazes at him expectantly. “How have you been, Lulu?” She asks softly, laying a comforting hand on his knee.

He sets the cup down on the table and sighs. “Well, we have a new dorm mate”.

Amber grins. “That’s great. Is he nice?”

“It’s a girl, actually”.

“Really?” She furrows her brow, deep in thought. “What a coincidence. Just a week ago a new girl came into my office and she was talking to me about being in a new dorm. She got posted here by her past therapist. Really pretty girl. So nice as well”.

Luhan nods, clasping his hands in his lap. “Yeah, our new dorm mate is nice too. Anyway, Amber, I have something really important to tell you”. He takes a deep breath and leans forward, glancing at the door as though somebody is going to bash in any moment and kill him. “I got into a fight on Friday night”.

Amber’s mouth forms an O. “What happened?”

“Remember when I told you that my dad was coming after me for money? Well, for the past few years, I’ve been ignoring his demands. Why should I give him anything after how he treated my mum and I? So one night, I was mad drunk and still furious at him so I got involved with some guys to go after him and tell him to leave me alone. I thought that would solve all of my problems and he would stop bugging me but he twisted everything around. The joke’s on me now, Amber, and I…I don’t…” Luhan trails off, trying to regain his breathing. His hands have curled up into fists and he just wants to smash something.

Amber notices this and pats his knee comfortingly. “Go on”, she says quietly.

“I didn’t mean any harm, I just told those guys to tell him to stop bothering me. I paid them, of course, but my dad has so much more money so naturally he has more power than me. So he offered them a larger sum than what I paid them and told them to come after me and…yeah. I’ve been on the run for the past few years but they tracked me down and now I’m stuck”.

“How did they find you?”

“I’m the talk of the town, Amber. The band has been a huge hit so my name appears everywhere all over the state of Canada and I’m not surprised if even my mum knows about it. She just doesn’t care, of course”.

Amber is frowning now. “Luhan, this can’t go on. You’ll be seriously hurt if you don’t tell someone. You need to ring up your mum and tell her what’s been going on behind her back. Although your mum and dad are divorced and living in different countries now, they’re still your family and she deserves to know what the two of you have been doing for the past few years”.

“She doesn’t give two shits about me. That’s why I left home in the first place to come here”.

“Of course she does. She just doesn’t know how to show it or maybe she’s waiting for you to make the first move to open up”.

“You’ve been my therapist for the past seven years. You’re the one who knows me best and you know that I don’t open up easily”. Luhan gets to his feet and paces around the office, running his hand through his hair anxiously.

Amber is watching him silently, chewing on the tip of her pen. “You remind me of her so much”, she says softly. “She’s always pacing around my office, full of energy and anxious thoughts”.

Luhan pauses for a moment, sort of relieved to be talking about someone else although he has no idea who they’re talking about. “The new girl you met last week?”

“Yeah. She’s exactly like you, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her family is pretty bad as well, although she rarely talks about them. She goes out into the outside world with a vengeance, as though she refuses to let anyone hurt her, just like you. No wonder they always say the saddest people smile the brightest and the most broken people are always intent on making others whole. People like you and her are so beautiful to me, you know? Luhan, you’re a bright and handsome young man and the last thing I would want is for you to get hurt. Talk to your mum, okay? Please? You don’t have to do it immediately, do it when you feel ready. If you don’t want to, it’s alright. I just want your mum to know that she has a beautiful and confident son who might need some help. Grab this opportunity because sometimes in life, you don’t get second chances”.

Luhan can’t help but smile at Amber’s touching words. “Thank you, Amber. That means a lot to me. I would love to call her when I’m ready but the real problem is that I never will be. I’m not as confident as you think I am. I am not who I portray myself to be. But then again, nobody is”.

I made the dismaying mistake of deciding to walk all the way back to the dorm, even after Kris offered to make a call to Chanyeol for him to pick us up. I had ignored him and walked on and eventually Kris had flagged down a cab to head to his next destination.

I have nothing against Kris, really. I just need some alone time to digest what he has just blurted out to me. Wandering down the pavement and plucking at the petals off a flower I just picked up, my thoughts start to drift again.

Luhan in therapy. That boy, who dresses like a gangster and rides a bike and has a smile like honey, goes for therapy sessions. It makes zero sense to me and I love it. I love how he’s so unpredictable and usually I hate it when I have no idea what’s going on. But when it comes to him, I love the many surprises and twists and turns and unexpected things. He makes unpredictable seem like the most beautiful word.

By the time I finally arrive back at the dorm, the petals of the flower are all gone and I’m drenched in my own perspiration. I let myself in, pull off my shoes and set my violin case on the floor, exhaling slowly.

To my utter surprise, Luhan is home and helping himself to yoghurt in the kitchen. Automatically, I smile at him and he smiles back, revealing the guilty smudges of strawberry yoghurt on his pearly-white teeth. “Hey”, he murmurs.

“Hey”, I say. “You’re back early”.

“Really? This is early to you?”

“It’s five in the afternoon. You always come back at five in the morning”.

That adorable smirk again. “Two weeks”, he says softly, “and you already know me so well. I’m impressed, Ciara”.

“Do I?” I tilt my head to the side carefully, studying the fullness of his lips and his fair skin. He’s prettier than I am.

He shrugs. “Maybe. But then again, I am not who I portray myself to be so…”

“Nobody is”. A sense of déjà vu washes over me as I recall saying the exact same thing to Kris. Strange, I think, looking at Luhan is like seeing a reflection of my younger self.

Luhan chuckles. “Exactly. Anyway, I’m back early because I want to ask you something”.

“Go ahead”.

Suddenly, he looks nervous and shy, running a hand through his silky black hair. My heart backflips into my throat as I watch those creamy fingers travel through each lock of his delicate hair.

God, what is wrong with me?

“Well”, he begins hesitantly, “I’ve got a performance this Friday and I was just wondering if you would like to come and see me”.

“Luhan, why are you so nervous? I would love to”. Deep down, I’m elated that he decided to ask me to go along to see him; although he’d played for me when we had our little outing two weeks ago, seeing him performing live is a completely different thing altogether. Plus, I’m all psyched up to hear him sing as well.

The anxious look on his face clears and is replaced with a relieved one. “That’s great. The performance starts at seven and it’s at The Red X downtown. So…I’ll see you?”

“Of course. It’s a promise”.

The entire week flies past in such a flash that I don’t realize it’s already Friday. It’s only when I’m on the way home from Amber’s office that it dawns on me that Luhan’s performance is tonight. Internally, I smack myself. Why am I so eager to go to his performance when I barely know him?

A flutter of confusion washes over me; I’m not someone who trusts people easily but I feel compelled to reach out to Luhan although Kris’ words of warning are still ringing in my ears. Plus, the fact that Sophia likes Luhan adds to my feelings of inner conflict. Who to trust? Can I even trust any of them?

Almost instantaneously, I can feel the flashbacks threatening to engulf my mind once again. I pause by the sidewalk and clamp my palms over my ears in an attempt to block the voices out, squeezing my eyes shut.

Don’t you dare think about your father. Don’t you fucking dare, Ciara.

A shudder passes through me and a passer-by glances over at me with concern. “You alright, dear?” She questions.

“I’m fine”, I say, hastily hurrying away to avoid any more questions. I practically run back to the dorm, suddenly feeling that familiar sense of claustrophobia due to the number of people around.

Letting myself into the dorm, I’m greeted by Sophia’s welcoming squeal. She flings herself into my arms and I squeeze her back, relieved to have a sense of warmth for once. For so long, I was used to being welcomed home by swear words and screaming so it’s nice to have a change.

Sophia fiddles with my earlobe, admiring my piercings. “Jiejie, you’re so pretty”.

I laugh. “Sophia, by any chance do you need spectacles?”

She pouts at me, her lower lip sticking out stubbornly. “I’m not joking. I want to be like you, jiejie. You’re my inspiration”.

I gulp, hating the thought of Sophia growing up to be like me. She won’t want to be anything like me; troubled, screwed-up, bipolar, claustrophobic, a smoker, a drinker, someone who hears voices in her head. Someone who can’t even love herself, let alone anyone else.

“Don’t say that”, I snap. “You won’t want to be like me, Sophia”.

“Yes, I do. You’re amazing”. She smiles at me now and I can’t help but smile back. “Where are you going, jiejie?” She asks, seeing how I’m not budging from the front door.

“I’m going to see Lulu in a while”, I say softly, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

“Lulu is amazing too”.

“You’re amazing to Lulu as well”.

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