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kusagrasskusa · 3 years

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Michael Myers X Reader - Part 3 - Final

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

This one made me cringe lol- Also, there's sorta a sensitive part of the story so beware.

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Today is the day, Y/N thought to herself. She pressed her hand against the wall of her hallway, slowly moving her hand across it as she walked towards the living room. It was in the middle of the night, around 3AM, where Michael would be asleep by now. Perfect time to finally see that face for more than 5 seconds... At that thought, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she wondered how Michael doesn't have terrible acne due to wearing that mask all the time.

Shaking that thought from her head, she finally entered the living room and saw a sleeping psychopath on her couch with his arms wrapped around a pillow and a large cover over him. The pillow he hugged always covered his face, hence why Y/N wasn't able to see his face in his sleep either. And because he always hides his mask when he sleeps as well, so Y/N can't just take it from him. And Michael's a light sleeper anyway, so he's catch her before she gets the chance to hide it.

But this time, Y/N had a plan. Michael sometimes goes out for a kill and she never knows. So when he comes home at 3AM and knocks on the door really loud, it scares the fuck outta her. In order to prevent that, she bought a camera that has night vision that connects to her computer. But she might as well test it out in living room, wink wink. And hey! She can find where he keeps his mask so Y/N doesn't have to look around for hours. All she needs to know is the general vicinity to find it. It was set up earlier, so all Y/N would have to do it wake him up so he goes to get his mask.

She smirked mischievously as she tiptoed over to the couch, hovering over him. He was lightly snoring peacefully, relaxed (not for long-). Y/N slowly gripped the sides of the pillow he was hugging, very delicately pulling it away from him. As soon as he started to stir in his sleep, she ripped it out of his arms and giggled as he shot his arms up over his face. "Aww, good morning, honey!" She giggled; Y/N could basically feel the anger radiating off of him, which was her que to ruN THE FUCK AWAY.

Right after saying good morning, she darted towards her room as fast as humanly possible. Rather than chasing her, Michael just hissed and stood up to grab his mask from in between the couch cushions. Sliding it on, he groggily went his way towards Y/N's room to probably scare her or something. I don't know, he was acting out in the moment.

Y/N could hear his slow footsteps faintly as he got closer to her door. She went under her bed to "hide from him" so it doesn't seem suspicious that she's just calm and all that. Yeah, poor reasoning but sTiLL. Anyway, Y/N giggled under her breath as he opened her bedroom door, walking inside her room and looking around. She could faintly hear him sigh as he went close to her bed, then turned his body so he could see under the bed. Y/N jolted backwards so she wouldn't get caught however Michael grabbed her arm strongly but gently. Y/N laughed as she was pulled out from under the bed.

"Michael, Michael, honey! I thought you were asleep or something!" She spoke innocently. She could just feel Michael's half lidded "shut the fuck up" stare. Y/N opened her mouth to speak again, but suddenly there was a loud knock on her door. I mean loud as in they were trying to break it. Y/N jumped, yelling, "what the hell!" Michael let go of her, watching as she raced towards her the kitchen to grab a knife. But as soon as she grabbed one, she heard someone yell.

"Police, open up!" Y/N's heart fucking dropped. Her lips quivered and her eyes widened with fear. Michael's image was the only thing she could think of as she opened the door, seeing a couple of large men in suits with guns and whatnot. One of them was holding a large black objects used to break down doors. Another was holding a piece of paper towards Y/N, speaking in a rough voice, "Y/N L/N! The FBI has a warrant to search your house for the wanted criminal Michael Myers. If we find any trace of him, you'll be under arrest for harboring a fugitive. For now, you'll be detained and questioned, not arrested. If it seems that your innocent, then you should remain calm and you shall have nothing to worry about. Otherwise, feel free to speak up now."

At the end of his speech, he put the paper away as a dozen of FBI agents bust into Y/N house, running across into ever room and searching for both Michael and evidence of him being here. At the sight of seeing all of this and the feeling of that officer grabbing her arms roughly and detaining them with cuffs, Y/N began to cry. Her legs became shaky and could barely support her weight. "What...What are you guys talking about?" She breathed out fearfully.

One of the FBI Agents came across an office room with a computer in it. The computer screen showed the living room as it is with agents breaking things and yelling. The agent hummed, messing with the keyboard and mouse a bit in order to see the earliest footage. It was of Y/N still setting up the camera and when she left the view of it, we can assume she went to bed. Hours later, a large and tall man was seen heading towards the couch, pulling off his mask and hiding it, then going to sleep.

"Muh-Michael is a...a..." Y/N breathed heavily, her back against the wall and an agent crouching on front of her. Of course, Y/N already knew this but at least she can get off with "not knowing."

"That's right. He's a murderer of many, including his older sister," the agent, who has Danyel written on his tag, replied. Two other agents went up to Dabyel, one of them addressing something.

"There's not a single thing of evidence of him, nor his clothing or anything. However I found camera footage of him being inside the house, sleeping on the couch in here. This woman clearly had a good relationship with him since she woke him up before we came here." Danyel responded to him, but Y/N didn't pay much attention. So Michael just left me, she thought. No, he had to leave so we both didn't get hurt! But it still hurts a little.

"Well, the good news is you didn't lie about not knowing him," Danyel laughed, grabbing Y/N's arm roughly and pulling her up. "Eh, sorry," he apologized when Y/N whenced at his grip. He started to walk her out of her extremely noisy home and to the outdoors, where she felt an amazing relief wash over. She sniffed, his breath quivering as some tears remained and more pouring out of her eyes.

"Michael was never bad to me," she spoke in a low voice, but still loud enough for Danyel to hear.

"Hmm." He walked Y/N up to his car, opening the back door to put Y/N in. She slid inside and was pushed away from the door and towards the middle of the seat. Then Danyel sat next to her, closing the door. Wait, she thought, this isn't normal. "Wanna tell me more about how he was?" He asked her, placing his hand on her cheek and using his thumb to wipe his tears. A shiver made it's way down her spine and her eyebrows furrowed together.

"He really is a nice guy. I can't comprehend he would do something so, so...evil," Y/N started, playing along. She really was hella upset about the reality of what murder really is; yes, she knew he was a killer but had never heard or seen any of it on the news or in person. And hey, if she didn't know the person, why would she care? But now in the situation where the hell that comes from murder is placed upon her so forcefully, she couldn't help but be slightly truthful when she spoke about how terrible she feels.

"My house was always open to people in need, and than I found him. He was knocking on doors, looking for a place to stay, and I let him in. He was so nice," Y/N sniffed, flinching her head back when Danyel tried to wipe away newer tears. "He was funny, loved the food I cooked and I finally had someone to talk to. No, he finally had someone to talk to. I could see so many signs of loneliness and hurt on him and I was finally curing it. Eventually, a few months in, I started to fall for him. Actually, I can't help but still love him.

"I know it's bad but he was the greatest friend, and roommate I could ever ask for. He never complained about anything either; heh heh, there was a time when he didn't have any clean clothes to change into so I had find something for him. All I had was a large baggy, blue hoodie and he it was a good look on him." Y/N chest ached as she finished her story, staring down at the car floor. Danyel hummed, a frown on his features.

Come to think of it, I never described Danyel very well. As mentioned before, he had a rough voice; it was serious and void of care. His demeanor matched it, too, as he showed no care for Y/N as she cried. Even when he wiped her tears, he didn't do it out of the goodness of his heart, but for some other reason. His uniform was a blue business suit, unlike the other FBI agents, and it matched a serious demeanor well. His stone cold blue eyes remained on Y/N as she talked, and every once in a while he was push back his slicked back grey-blonde hair.

He was around 35 with youth in his eyes yet his forehead and eyes had wrinkles. His hair was turning grey already, probably from the heavy amounts of stress that comes with the job. He was quite tall, about 6'3 (190cm) and had broad shoulders and had a slim yet muscular build. He wasn't necessarily attractive or youthful looking, but not yet ready for unattractive or old. He always had a frown and half lidded eyes showing nothing but boredom for everything around him.

"That's very touching, Miss L/N," he spoke. Y/N looked up at him, sniffing. Danyel hummed sadly and slowly changed his face to a softer expression. "Well, you won't have to worry about it after today. In the meantime, is there anyone you can stay with for now?" Y/N's lip quivered as she shook her head. "No? You have no family, no other friends? Surely a parent or sibling would help you on a time of need, regardless of your relationship." Y/N shook her head again. She doesn't really like to talk about it.

"I don't have anyone, sir, I really don't. I don't...I don't want to talk about it but I can't see my mom! I don't have any siblings or dad, but she's not a recommendation," she reassured, her heart speeding up at the mere thought of her mom. Danyel noticed this and raised a brow.

"In that case, you will stay at my place. Of course I'm putting my life on the line that way so expect some serious restrictions." Danyel spoke, a smirk almost appearing from the corners of his lips. Y/N felt a chill go up her spine and shook. "That means in case you attempt to escape, I'll be locking your room at night. Don't think I won't go further to ensure you don't attack me in my sleep. You won't be allowed to go outside at all ever. No one is allowed to visit. You'll be able to get food whenever you wish, as well. Roam to your heart's content, but please keep silent at night."

Y/N nodded in understanding but at the same time, she felt way more uneasy than she did when he suggested it. After all he never asked if she wanted to stay with him. No, he told her she would. And his rules seem way too restricting and very unprofessional for someone in the line of service. Y/N is nearly 65% of the size of him, so how the hell is she supposed to "murder him in his sleep?" He could literally just kick her if she ever tried. Lastly, it's almost like he really wanted this.

"Now that's settled, we should be heading towards the police station for questioning. If you're innocent and knew nothing of his history, you have nothing to fear so please be honest and put up no fight. May the lord have mercy on your beautiful soul."

~~~~~~

"This will be your room, Miss L/N," Danyel said as he opened a door. Inside was a small bed that was made, a dresser that was somewhat dusty besides it, and a single lap besides it. He walked up to the dresser and set down a suitcase that Y/N had packed after questioning at the police station. She had to get it searched twice in case something were to happen, which was hella annoying for her. "Please do make yourself at home. I'll cook something tonight."

Y/N nodded her head, very uneasy as the thought of staying at some strangers house. She sighed when he stepped out of her new room and she shut the door after him. She shivered, rubbing her eyes before tears well up. "I miss Michael," she whimpered silently to herself. She pushed her hair out of her face as a shaky breath came out of her mouth. Turning towards her suitcase, she walked towards it and unzipped it. She began to pull things out and pet them away in a respective place in the dresser.

"Hmm... Where's my hoodie?" Y/N mumbled to herself under her breath. She made sure to bring a certain blue hoodie with her, but she can't find it. As she scanned through it more, she noticed a few other articles of clothing was missing. "Um, alright, that's creepy," Y/N said out loud. What the hell did Danyel do? When she finished putting her clothes away, she pulled out comfortable pajamas of F/C and S/F/C. Right afterwards, she walked out of her room.

"I'm done," she called out as she walked into the kitchen. Danyel was wearing normal clothes now, no longer a suit and tie, and he was moving around something in a pan. It smelt a lot of breakfast in the kitchen, so it was probably eggs.

"Well, I hope you enjoy it here Y/N. You'll be staying for a while, heh heh," he chuckled as he turned off the stove. "I don't know if you like breakfast for dinner, but I made eggs and pancakes for us." Y/N smiled, sitting down at the table.

"It smells very nice, thanks," she answered. "I must have been in my room longer than I thought."

"You must have been. I had to go look inside to make sure you weren't sleeping, heh."

Y/N's smile dropped when she looked away from him. He was making plates at the moment, too distracted to see Y/N's look of discomfort. Maybe I'm just paranoid, she thought to herself, but he's so weird. As Danyel passed a plate in front of her and one for himself across the table, the room became filled with an awkward silence aside from the side of the a fork clinging against the plates. Y/N poked around at her food, a bit too unnerved from today to eat well. "You know, you shouldn't play with you food."

"I know, I know, sorry. It's just..." she drifted off before getting it back together. "I miss Michael. This is all so weird." Danyel frowned, picking up a few eggs and eating them before replying.

"I see. But you know, this is very essential for your well being. After all Michael is described as pure evil. If he truly cared for you, he would come here to save you and the task force will be here to protect you. If you wanted to go back to kill you because you know too much, the task force will be here to save you. I understand this sounds like I'm using you to lure him in however I am not. You're a very beautiful and intelligent girl who has a heart in the right place; as seen when you choose to let a homeless mute guy with a mask in your house.

"It would be quite a shame for someone like you to be void of life. After all, I'm sure you're a very fun woman and it would be nice for you to stick around with me for now. As you can see I'm without a family so it'd be nice to have some company." As Danyel finished talking, Y/N nodded in understanding. By now she had already finished her food as she kinda just wanted to go to sleep as fast as possible.

Y/N stood up and brought her plate to the think. "Thank you, sir, I appreciate it. I'm probably gonna go to sleep now, okay? Have a nice night," she said as she smiled at him. Danyel stared at her as she walked away and mumbled goodnight to her. Y/N walked into her new bedroom and looked around. It's depressing to not be in her own home, especially at a stranger's house. But she knew she'd see Michael soon, right? As she layer in bed and put on socks, she couldn't help but recall that one time Michael laid in bed with her because it was cold. She giggled to herself when she turned off the light and laid on her back in bed.

It was deadpan silent in that room. So if Y/N likes a fan or TV to help her sleep, this isn't very good for her. Either way, she managed to fall asleep while replaying plenty of memories in her head. Like one time, the first week of Michael staying at her house, she woke up to get ready for work. When she stood on the countertop to get the blender out of the cabinet so she can make a milkshake before work, she saw three sticky notes that said, "Short."

Giggling at the thought, Y/N closed her eyes, waiting for the day that she can live like that again. After all how can she can live in piece in her home again when her neighbors learn her roommate is a killer? She'd never be able to live in peace again. With these thoughts in mind, Y/N began to slowly drift away to sleep until finally all at once. At least, it would last like that for a little while.

A scream erupted from Y/N's mouth as she felt someone pin her to the bed. Danyel, of course, was the culprit; he held her arms tight and got really close to her. "Tell me where he's hiding! Tell me or you'll fucking regret it!" He yelled, making Y/N burst out into tears. She gasped for air, trying to kick him off of her but to no advil.

"I don't know! Let me go!" She yelled back, now trying to release her arms but of course to no advil.

"Lying little bitch," he mumbled under his breath as he let go of one of her wrists to grab something. It was too dark to see, but the metallic-plastic sound she heard means that's it could either be a knife or a gun. Y/N used her other arm to try to release her pinned down hand but she stopped when she felt something touch her head. It was, in fact, a gun. "Tell me where he is," he said as she flipped off his safety, "or die."

Y/N whimpered holding her free arm to her chest as to make herself seem smaller to comfort herself. Danyel released her other arm, putting both hands on his gun as he began to count down from 20. Y/N sniffed, her heart racing so heavily she felt like she would die. Only 20 seconds to live? What's the point of putting up a fight? She closed her eyes tightly, huffing until Danyel got to 5. As these few numbers left rang in her ears, she began to feel apprehensive.

In one swift and easy movement, she managed to hit the gun away from Danyel. A metallic clink sound hit the floor and right after that, a shot erupted. Danyel growled, slapping Y/N before lunging to grab his gun. As fast as humanly possible, Y/N shot up and ran out of the bedroom. The light from the moon shun from all the windows, making it easy for her to maneuver around and there was still enough darkness to hide. To the right outside her bedroom was the kitchen, and in the kitchen are knives, and like hell Y/N passing that up.

She swiftly grabbed one of those larger knives, one similar to what Michael carries. As soon as Y/N made it into the living room, she heard Danyel's loud footsteps run into the kitchen. In his house, the living room and kitchen don't have a wall to separate them to Y/N was in plain sight. "Put your hands up, L/N!" He yelled as he shakingly pointed his gun to her. "Make a move and I'll blow your head off!" Y/N gulped before having a master plan she learned in elementary school: she would juex him, or make him think she's going one way but she'd go the other way.

Y/N growled, jumping to her left but right as he shot, she jumped to the right again and began running. Danyel sped up after her, but it was a little too dark to actually see her move. He had to rely on her softly little footsteps that were being covered up but his own footsteps. Y/N took this time to swiftly get into Danyel's room. Luckily the floor in there was carpet rather than wood so she didn't worry about making too many sounds. In his room was a giant bed, two dressers, a nightstand, and a computer desk.

Danyel ran towards his room, not in it, and paused. "Where the hell did you go!" Y/N's lip quivered as she wiped off her tears; she looked around her for maybe something to throw so he would check inside the room, but know she was behind the door. Looking around her, she saw a binder on a bookcase she hadn't noticed before and grabbed it, throwing it against the wall across the room. Almost as soon as it hit the wall, Danyel ran in passed her, giving Y/N a good opportunity to ran out.

But instead, she gripped her knife strongly before running up to him from behind and plunging the knife right into his ribs, below his arm. Not many people know this, but one of the most vital places of the human body is below the arm; hell, sticking a fingernail in that place could pop so many vital veins that it will kill them. Danyel screamed loudly and spun around, his arm colliding with Y/N's head, knocking her over. Damn bobblehead. Danyel's blood sprayed as he pulled out the knife, dropping it onto the floor and covering his wound. He fell onto his knees. Somewhere in that time, he had dropped his gun, so he was defenseless.

Y/N ran towards the knife, as the gun was no where in sight due to the darkness of the room, gripping it. She rushed towards him a second time and this time, plunging the knife right into that bigass forehead of his. He went silent, went limp, and fell straightforward onto the floor. Y/N was covered in his blood but she weirdly didn't feel anything about it; she was basically desensitized from seeing Michael covered in it so many times.

With a small smile, she pulled out the knife and took it with her into her bedroom, throwing it onto the bed. She took of her bloody pajamas and then headed towards his bathroom to take a shower. Luckily there was much more blood on her clothes than on her body so she didn't struggle too much to get the thick liquid off her. Unfortunately, some of her skin was stained.

When she got out of the bathroom, she went back to the bedroom to get changed. No matter if she choose to put on a lovely dress, or skinny jeans and a sweater, or sweatpants and a tang top, she knew she wouldn't feel fully dressed until she could find that blue hoodie. So she headed towards Danyel's room and hummed to herself along the way. Stepping into the bedroom again, she froze when she saw a looming silhouette that was lit up by the moon threw the window. It wasn't open before, so she could only assume he had just gotten here.

A smile formed on Y/N's lips and her eyes felt watery from tears of joy. "Michael!" She yelled as she ran up to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She felt his arms slowly wrap around her too, lightly though as if she was fragile. Michael looked over at the fallen officer; he never knew that Y/N had it in her to kill someone. After all, Y/N once cried because Michael killed a butterfly. She must have been terrified; and although she couldn't feel it at the time, Y/N was so scared.

"Where were you?" Y/N asked as she whimpered, her lip quivering. Michael brushed her wet hair with his fingers, not answering her as expected. "Whatever... I'm so happy you're okay," she giggled to herself, wiping her tears away. "I guess their gonna link me with the murder no matter what I do, huh? So what should we do?"

Michael audibly sighed and let go of Y/N. He pulled his hands up to his mask, pulling it off. Y/N stood wide-eyed, her mouth parted open at the sight. Even in the darkness and little light the moon displayed, she could examine his ever feature for more than 5 seconds. "Oh my god," she mumbled as she brought her hands up to her mouth. "You're hot! What the hell! Why didn't you show this to me sooner you asshole!"

Her face was a light red shade and she was fangirling so badly inside her mind right now. After a solid 5 minutes, she finally calmed down; she crossed her arms and sighed to calm herself down. By now, Michael kinda just sat on his knees because he would rather not just stand there the whole time. "Well, um anyway..."

"Y/N. Obviously, we'll have to leave and hide. I've been doing this for a while; I know exactly where to go." Y/N shivered at the sound of his voice. It was serious this time instead of mischievous like the first time she heard it. Her cheeks lit up again but instead of fangirling on the outside, she kept it more on the inside.

"R-Right... I suppose we should be going now?" Michael nodded, smirking as he grabbed the sides of Y/N's face and pulling her close. They're lips collided (ew cooties) for a few seconds, and in those few seconds Y/N managed to have invented a new color, uncover a number hidden between 8 and 19376484974939, and small the word "iris." Right after they parted, Michael slid his mask back on and stood up.

"It'll be faster if I carried you. Your short legs won't go far on their own." Y/N huffed loudly, putting her hands on her hips. Her face was even brighter now, but wHatEver.

"You know what? Fine! At least I can see what it's like to be a damn giraffe." Plus she can also be held with biG StRonG ArMs or something like that, I don't know. She went up closer to him and held out her arms. "Just so you know, I want to stop by McDonald's on the way to where ever we're going."

Michael rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips under his mask as he picked her up bridal style, heading for the window. "Also! If you drop me, I'm suing." He ignored her comments as he stepped out of the window, landing perfectly. Y/N jumped in fear, "Cheezits rice!" Now if what she said didn't make sense to the reader, they should say it out loud and think about what it sounds like. Anyway, Danyel's house was actually pretty secretive. It's in the middle of the woods with only one road that leads to civilization. And that's where the two were heading.

~~~~~~~~~~

"This place is weird," Y/N said as she ate a McChicken nugget. She was holding a happy meal that contained a 6-piece chicken and fries. Also it came with a Rainbow Dash toy. Pure bliss. Anyway, the two of them were in an abandoned asylum that had concrete floors and white walls; there were cobwebs and wood and dirt scattered. "Also, if you think for a damn second that I'm cleaning this, you're wrong."

"Not you. We. We need a place to stay, right? A little work here and there would be sufficient."

"How are you gonna use big words when your handwriting looks like a mouse trying to use a pen?"

Three months later, the asylum did not look bad at all. They only used very few areas of it; by the window they entered through was three rooms that were very close together. These rooms and the hallway that connected it was basically their home. It sounds strange, but after managing to steal a bunch of lights, sweep away nasty shit, and steal certain kinds of wallpaper to cover up the old wallpaper, it became livable. They brought in tables, even a fucking fridge, chairs, etc to make it more homey.

The asylum wasn't that old either; there was outlets for plugging in lights and a fridge and all that. They were able to steal power from a nearby working place to even get the power needed, too. Things worked surprisingly well. Y/N would cook, Michael would clean, and all that good stuff. Y/N was the one to go out shopping and all that, and Michael would steal. The power of teamwork! One one of the rooms was a bed and dresser; the bed was pretty low on the ground actually and hella big too, so Michael could fit.

Y/N would be home a lot by herself, as Michael's quest to kill his family was worth more than life to him, but she would still see him pretty often.

This series is over, but if anyone suggests a story deeper into how their relationship would be or perhaps even kids, I have no shaming in making it happen. Or perhaps a different ending?!

#micheal myers #michael myers x y/n #micheal myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #slashers x reader #slashers

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years

Text

like the movies

summary: he’s the writer; you’re the muse. there’s a cup of coffee somewhere in there, too.

word count: 3.3k+

warnings: fluff & pining—so, a change of pace from my usual angst. :) also: a serious lack of dialogue because i am feeling verbose.

a/n: this is entirely @joemazzmatazz‘s fault. it was her idea (albeit given to me actual ages ago), but she said “do it” and who am i to say no? anywho, i’m relatively uncertain about how this turned out, but have it regardless!

your latte is hot, almost too hot. it burns your tongue on the first sip.

but you welcome the heat and the momentary burst of pain. the weather swirling outside borders on atrocious: freezing rain mixed with snow flurries, bloated, gray clouds, and a thin layer of ice on all surfaces. though the tip of your tongue stings upon that first sip, the heat that rushes to your chest pushes away the dreary weather you’d slogged through to get to the coffee shop.

you’re a regular here. not a regular regular, but regular enough that the interchangeable baristas recognize you and you recognize them. you exchange tight-lipped smiles and nods of greeting when you approach the counter, but nothing more than simple pleasantries. you don’t know their names, and they never ask for yours, but they remember your order: frosted blueberry latte with extra foam. it’s gotten to the point where you can simply walk up to the counter, money in hand, and the barista can repeat your order before you open your mouth.

it’s the little things, you suppose. in this little corner of the world, you feel seen.

today, you have your laptop open, latte pushed to the side, and a cherry and almond scone on a bright blue plate. you resist the urge to pull your foot up on the chair and rest your chin on your knee. though you’re here more often than you’re at home, this isn’t your living room. you settle for sliding your ankle beneath your opposite thigh.

being a paralegal is decidedly unglamorous. sure, it sounds highfalutin to the person sitting beside you on the airplane, but damn, if it isn’t stressful. you feel like a glorified secretary most of the time. pushing papers and getting signatures and making tens of phone calls to people and places that are not interested in speaking to a lawyer isn’t really what you signed up for. at least, it’s not what you ultimately want. it pays the bills for now, though; a partnership… that’ll come later.

you’re lucky enough that you can work remotely, hence your sturdy corner of the café. from where you sit, you watch customers enter and exit the shop. each time the door opens and the little bell tinkles above, a blast of cold air rushes into the cramped space. you enjoy watching the reaction of newcomer—the way they stamp their snow-covered shoes on the wood floor and shiver, turn to their companions with a smile, hurry to the counter to order something sweet and warm. in those moments, you grow wistful, your heart lurching with loneliness. it’s been a long time since you’ve had anyone to meet for an afternoon coffee date, friend or otherwise. your job doesn’t afford much downtime, and what downtime you do have is devoted to menial life responsibilities.

your phone buzzes, and you glance down. a text from your boss. time to refocus.

you work for a while longer, nibbling on your scone, sipping from your latte. the emails pile up, and your phone buzzes incessantly. a headache forms at the base of your skull as you struggle to keep up with the constant flurry of communication.

after receiving a terse email from your boss’s legal partner in relation to something that is no fault of your own, you shut your laptop. a five-minute break; you deserve that much. rubbing a hand down your weary face, you grab your purse, slide out from behind the table, and head for the restroom. in the poorly lit bathroom, you splash some cool water on your cheeks and sigh at your reflection in the mirror. you look tired, feel it too. the dark bags under your eyes bely how little sleep you’ve gotten in the last week, and your shoulders droop under the weight of the world. maybe by christmas…

who are you kidding? christmas is just as busy as any other time of the year. people don’t stop needing lawyers just ‘cause it’s the holidays.

when you return to your makeshift workspace, you immediately frown. you freeze several paces from the corner of the table and glance over your shoulder, tightening your grip on the strap of your purse.

someone had been at the table in the five minutes it took to freshen up.

nothing is gone, thank god. (in retrospect, you probably shouldn’t have left your laptop and phone sitting in plain sight. call it naivety, but you like to think the best of people. however, your line of work consistently reminds you that the bad in people often outweighs the good.) your laptop, though, has been nudged to the side, the movement causing the charging cord to fall out. several drops of dark liquid—spilled latte—dampen the corner of your yellow legal pad.

what truly catches you eye is the square piece of paper resting on your laptop’s keyboard like a discarded feather.

you look over your shoulder again, but the shop is largely empty save for the baristas and an older couple in the far corner. the weather is certainly a deterrent from lingering. perhaps someone had come in while you were in the bathroom and left you a note. had your car been hit? you hope not. you don’t have the extra funds for vehicular maintenance right now and even less time to fix whatever damage had been done.

leaning forward, you lift the piece of paper, and your chest tightens.

it’s a drawing—a drawing of you. blue ink scattered across the page in swirling lines forms the hazy outline of your profile. your chin rests in your hand, and the artist made certain note to emphasize your eyelashes, which are not that long in actuality. at the bottom of the page, a message in curling script: when you are old — yeats

your mouth runs dry, your palms moist with nerves. returning to your chair, you quickly type the words into the search bar of your browser. you remember enough from high-school english to know yeats is a poet, but when the poem loads and you read the words, you feel like you might fall over.

your neck snaps up, cracks at the sudden movement. someone had been here in the café long enough to watch you, to sketch you, and to think of the yeats poem in relation to you.

how decidedly… romantic. like something out of a chick-flick.

despite the warmth in your chest, you shut your laptop, fold the sketch, and shove it in your coat pocket, willing yourself to forget the random happenstance. things like that—serendipitous moments of romance—only happen in the movies. they certainly don’t happen to you.

whomever had left the note, well—at least they’d brightened your day. your mother would call it a gift from the heavens, an angel smiling down on you.

shaking your head, you gather your things and hurry out into the cold, wintery weather. you refuse to allow yourself to go home and daydream. you could use the note as a bookmark, sure, but there was no use in dreaming about the artist. no use whatsoever when you would likely never cross paths again.

except you do go home and daydream. why you ever thought you could keep yourself from mulling over a moment rife with potential is ridiculous.

all throughout the evening—as you make your stir-fry dinner, as you draw your bath, as you change the sheets on your bed, and fold the laundry—you consider the possibilities:

you’d been at the café for a handful of hours, but how much had you truly paid attention to the patrons coming and going? barely, if you’re honest with yourself. you had noticed the older couple when they came in; you’d wondered how they’d managed to get from the parking lot to the warmth of the coffee shop without slipping on the icy sidewalks. you’d noticed, too, a man who looked a lot like how you imagine paul bunyan: massive height, plaid shirt stuffed in worn jeans, impressive beard. no one else of note sticks out in your mind hours later.

what had you been doing all afternoon? hopefully you hadn’t done anything embarrassing. god, sometimes you have this habit of resting your fingers over your mouth in such a way that it pushes up your nose to resemble a pig’s snout. had you done that? sometimes you fiddle with your hair too much and bounce your knees and hum to yourself. you want to sink below the suds of your bathwater when you recall your propensity for talking to yourself.

your thoughts turn fanciful when you finally slip beneath your covers.

maybe the artist is like tom hanks in “you’ve got mail.” only instead of emails, you could exchange notes in a coffee shop and forgo the business rivalry part.

maybe the artist is like tom hanks in “sleepless in seattle”: soft and sweet and really good with kids.

maybe you just have a thing for tom hanks.

you turn your head with a girlish grin, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t daydream, but how could you not? yeats’s poem filters through your mind like the moon filtering through your curtains: how many loved your moments of glad grace, and loved your beauty with love false or true, but one man loved the pilgrim soul in you and loved the sorrows of your changing face.

with a muffled squeal, you allow yourself a moment to thrash in delight—like a schoolgirl with a crush and a note checked yes i like you tucked beneath her pillow. the idea that someone somewhere notices you, of all people, is simply too much to bear. you feel like your heart will explode and sunbeams will burst from beneath your skin. you feel warm and happy and drunk on possibility.

you settle, then, and sigh, smoothing your hands over the rumpled comforter. you’re a professional, though. a paralegal, for god’s sake. you’ll go back to the café. maybe not tomorrow, but you’ll go back. just maybe—maybe, maybe, maybe—you’ll run into your artist again.

you return to the coffee shop in two days, lugging your over-stuffed bag with you, earbuds snug in your ears. when you cross the threshold, you can’t help the way your eyes immediately scan the customers who have parked themselves in the various sitting areas. you’re looking for your artist, obviously, but you have nothing to go on other than the note tucked away in your jewelry box at home. a few words, a carefully drawn profile—that’s not enough to determine who had created the note from a simple glance.

begrudgingly, you remind yourself once again that life isn’t a movie. there’s no tom hanks waiting for you on the other end of the note. it’s silly to dwell on it any longer, really. you’ll get too wrapped up, too attached, and that wouldn’t bode well for the upcoming holidays.

the table you usually occupy is already taken by a man in a red sweater. his head is bent over his laptop, glasses slipping down his strong nose. you try not to take it to heart; the table was never explicitly yours. with a soft grunt of effort, you drop your belongings in an orange armchair across the room before meandering to the counter. julie (at least, you think that’s her name?) smiles when you approach, and she rings up your order, asking about the weather and plans for the holidays.

once your coffee is in hand, you return to your new seat and relax in the accommodating plush armchair. maybe the man in the red sweater had done you a favor after all. you glance up to look at him. if he stays as long as you often do, his ass will ache by the time he leaves. the wood chairs offer zilch in the way of comfort.

you quickly lose yourself in work, but the idea that your artist could be in the same room as you never truly leaves your mind. you find yourself glancing about the room from time to time, studying those who come and go, wondering if perhaps they were the one who saw something worthwhile in you. no one catches you eye; everyone is too busy with their own affairs, and you don’t blame them.

by the end of the afternoon, you find your latte completely and utterly forgotten. it’s cold when you take a tentative sip, and you sigh. maybe not five dollars wasted, but five dollars you had meant for a hot drink, especially considering the cold weather. rising from your seat, you take the latte to the counter and ask the barista to pour your drink in a to-go cup with some ice. might as well make the best of it, and you don’t like things to go to waste.

when you return to your chair, you nearly drop the plastic cup.

another note.

“holy shit,” you breathe. instinctively, your palm tightens around your cup, and the plastic gives a small crack. you wince and double-check to make sure no leaks have sprung before picking up the folded piece of paper on your messenger bag.

your fingers tremble as you flip open the folded note.

the same blue ink, same hurried penmanship. no drawing this time; only words.

she sat, much as i did, working fervently. i couldn’t help but watch, and maybe that made me a creep, but i’d been called worse. she sat with an heir of regality, her chin held firm, eyes dancing about the room like she owned the place. not haughty or self-possessed. just sure of herself. what did that make me then? alone in my corner? i didn’t like to dwell too long, so i—

the words stop in time with the seize of your heart.

you can’t seem to look away, to look around the room again in search of your artist, your writer. your heart pounds in your chest, flush rising on your cheeks. eyes—you feel eyes on you whether they are present or not. you feel dizzy. never have you felt so… seen, so noticed. not even in past relationships have your boyfriends took such care to notice the minute details of your being.

the strange urge to vomit rises in your throat. you aren’t afraid; you aren’t creeped out.

you’re just… overwhelmed.

so, you tuck the note in your pocket and leave, careful to keep your gaze on the floor as you exit. just in case your writer is still there, still watching.

you’re nothing special, nothing like the paragraph they penned. they should get that through their thick skull before they find themselves disappointed.

you don’t return to the coffee shop until after the holidays.

it’s not that hard to stay away. the hustle and bustle of work combined with the hustle and bustle of family gatherings keeps you from finding the time for an afternoon of solace anywhere, let alone the café.

you must admit that you think of your author often, try as you might to forget them.

by now, you have the cadence of the yeats poem memorized and the prose of the paragraph tattooed on the front of your mind. each time you pass a couple in a warm embrace, you wonder what became of your writer. you wonder if they think of you as much as you think of them; if they ruminate over the possibility of a life that cannot be.

if this were a movie, you would run into your author by random happenstance. you’d bump into them at the market, spill your legumes on the floor, touch hands in your haste to right the mistake, and—boom—as you look up, it would all fall into place.

if this were a movie, you would see them in the library or the post office or the deli or—

—or the coffee shop.

you sigh as you enter the café, wishing for your author to be there, knowing they won’t be. it is enough that you’ve experienced two mysterious love notes; things like that don’t come in threes.

that’s only in the movies.

the café still has its holiday decorations up. twinkle lights hang draped across the ceiling, and music filters over the sparsely filled tables and chairs. in the post-holiday haze, you didn’t expect the café to be crowded. in all truth, the sight of few patrons eases your mind.

less of a chance to run into your author. less of a chance to reveal yourself as the decidedly uninteresting person you are.

you set your belongings down at a side table, and as you reach for your wallet, a presence hovers over your shoulder. frowning slightly, you straighten, prepared to ask the person to kindly give you some space. when you do turn, your heart leaps to your throat, and the wallet in your hand clatters to the table.

it’s your author. you just know it.

there’s something vaguely familiar about the man, about his strong nose and groomed facial hair and crystal eyes. he’s tall, warm looking, like a hot drink on a cold day or a crackling fire. his eyes scan your face as though he is worried, as though he’s uncertain of what he should do now that you’ve actually faced him.

you speak before your thoughts catch up with your heart. “you wrote those notes, didn’t you?”

he nods, and the movement—so gentle, so reminiscent of a small boy on the verge of a scolding—makes you love him all the more. “yeah.” he sighs, lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck. “yeah, sorry about that. i wanted to apologize. wasn’t sure i’d get the chance, if you’d come back again.”

you shake your head. “no, don’t apologize. please don’t apologize.”

it’s his turn to frown, and he looks up from the table. you lose your breath momentarily. god, his eyes are blue. “when you left last time i thought… well, i thought i’d scared you off.” with a rueful chuckle, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “would serve me right, too.”

“why do you say that?”

“i mean, notes on your laptop when you aren’t looking? intently watching you? kinda stalkerish, huh?”

you can’t help but smile—smile at him, at the nervous twitch of his mouth, at the way he avoids your gaze. “i guess.” on a daring move, you reach out and touch his elbow. when you touch him, he feels like home. “but i don’t want you to apologize. i like the notes. i haven’t thought about anything else since you gave me the first one.”

“really?” there’s a hopeful tone in his voice; it sets your heart on fire.

“yeah.”

“i’m writing a book—a novel, really. i saw you so often that any time i got stuck, i just wrote about you instead.”

you could kiss him then and there. instead, you tell him your name, and he grins.

“i’m gwilym.”

“tell me, gwilym.” you pull out your chair and motion to the café counter. “how would you feel if i bought you a coffee? i want to hear more about that novel.”

“i’d—i’d like that.”

he follows you to the counter, his hand brushing the small of your back.

the barista—matt, you think—looks up from the register and laughs. “holy shit, i won!” he looks over his shoulder. “hey, julie! you owe me a fifty.”

you glance at gwilym, but he’s already looking at you. you smile.

matt continues. “we had a pool to see how long it would take for you two to get together. you were always looking at each other but never at the same time. you knew that, right?” still laughing, he rings up your orders without be asked. “coffee is on us today, guys.”

as you wait for your latte to be steamed and gwilym’s chia to be poured, you tuck your lip between your teeth to stem your widening grin. gwilym is strong by your side, the perfect height for you to rest your head on his shoulder. you look up at him, at the noble planes of his face, and your chest squeezes. when he looks at you again, your chest squeezes even tighter.

maybe life is like a movie after all.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #bohemian rhapsody #j writes

130 notes · View notes

ink-and-flame · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 10: Better than the Day Job

Kinktober Day 10 Prompts: Prostitution (actual) ~ Hairbrush spankings ~ Over the-knee spanking Fandom: Bright Tags: Exophilia, Prostitution, male escort, spankings, first time, bdsm, reader fic Pairing: Orc/Human, Nick/Reader

[Author’s note: Look. I don’t know why I am like this, I just am. I am why we can’t have nice things. It has been a while since I have done a reader fic, so please excuse any issues with tense.]

The world was a strange and scary place sometimes. You lived your life, kept your head down, worked to keep yourself afloat, took freelance jobs where you could just to make some extra cash, and tried to stay out of trouble. The neighborhood you were in wasn’t the best, but it also wasn’t the worst. It was, however, all that you could afford. The best you could do, an apartment above a shop. The noise wasn’t so bad late at night, the weekends were a bit stressful though as it was crowded and sometimes leaving your place made you nervous with all the people hanging around.

After time, you had begun to recognize the jerseys and the jackets. That specific color of orange, it was the local orc clan turned gang. You didn’t really know much about the Fogteeth, you knew enough to know to just leave them be. They really hadn’t been in your area when you moved in, now you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting one. Not that you would, you weren’t eager to get shot for throwing rocks, plus it was kind of rude.

You had never had any issues with orcs in the past, and gang or no gang, you weren’t about to start now. You figured if you left them alone, they would leave you alone, and so far that had worked out beautifully. They still made you nervous, but the reality was that almost any group or crowd kind of did.

It took time to get used to all the staring, hearing them speak their own language, knowing they were probably saying things about you as you walked by. Or maybe you were paranoid, maybe they were just talking about their days, or sharing recipes. Still, when they stared and then spoke to each other, it felt like it was about you and you just had to pretend not to notice.

Life was weird, but it wasn’t unpleasant. There were still some things missing from your life, and while you could ease some of the loneliness with online chat and meeting up with friends, they couldn’t really help you with all of it. You didn’t have a friend with benefits option to go to, and even if you did, what you were seeking was something you weren’t sure you wanted your friends to even know about.

Again, you blamed the internet. Reading erotic stories had always been a pleasant way for you to spend some alone time, but the further down that rabbit hole you fell, the more interested you became. The kink stories had slowly, over time, become your favorite and you had been fantasizing for months about strong hands holding you down. Of orders being given and rough sex. Spanking in particular had gotten you to squirming more often than not, even your dreams were filled with it. While you had no practical experience, your mind was happy to try and fill in the gaps, which was how you ended up where you were now.

There were some things in life you had never done before, lots of things actually, but the one thing you thought you would never actually do is hire an escort. Which really was just a fancy word for prostitute, but it still helped the idea go down a little better in your head. This was much easier than cruising down the street, and the website promised discreet sessions with trained professionals. You felt that going through a service was going to be safer than trying to pick up a stranger and hoping they weren’t a murderer in disguise.

Their website was nice, professional looking, and quite well organized. You could search by a variety of criteria based on what was most important to you. Skipping over gender and race, you looked for anything that would filter by kink. It took a bit to find what you were looking for, mostly because you were still learning the technology. Each profile had a picture, though because your internet was being a bit slow, not every picture was loading or loading fully. At the end of the day, looks didn’t matter, you wanted something specific and that was what was important.

Scrolling through the options you wavered back and forth between a nice female domme, and a male dom. Both had their advantages. A woman might be a bit more understanding of your first time, but that wasn’t guaranteed. In the end you went with male, because that's where your fantasies had gone. You wanted big strong hands manhandling you. Filtering on just the male profiles you had narrowed it down to two. After removing the sadists, as you just weren’t ready for that much pain. You were stuck between two that listed themselves as sensual dominants with the option for daddy dominant scenes.

All in all it was a little confusing, you had no idea what all the different types of dominants really meant, and at the end of the day, sensual sounded right to you. You didn’t want someone that was too much into pain, this was your first time after all. After flitting back and forth you flipped a coin, random was better than no choice at all and since neither picture would load you couldn’t use appearance as a tie breaker.

Jak Blackburn it was, which was a strange way to spell a name but it was probably supposed to be Jack and ended up being misspelled or was just an unusual spelling. It was likely that this wasn’t this guys actual name. Chances were he wanted some privacy. If you were an escort you certainly wouldn’t use your real name.

Now you just had to book the session and hope you didn’t chicken out and cancel it. Which you almost did the moment after you saw it processing which forced you to step away from your computer. It only took a couple of minutes to receive a notification on your phone confirming that your payment method was valid and offering a list of scheduling options. You were surprised to see a block of time available later this evening. Were you really ready so soon?

Surprisingly, you guessed you were since you clicked it and confirmed it. Your method of payment would not be charged until after the session. You would have to provide confirmation of services received, but they required a valid payment method on file in the event that someone might try to get out of paying. You weren’t too worried, though you hoped the charge showed up as something discreet on your bank statement. You really did not want to have to explain that if anyone should ever see it.

Feeling nervous you decided to clean up your place, in a mad panicked rush. Not that it was crazy messy, but it was a little cluttered and you were embarrassed by the thought of some stranger judging how you lived your life. After that you decided on a shower to freshen up, that would leave you only a few minutes to get dressed, but you weren’t worried about what to wear as you assumed you wouldn’t be wearing it long. Or that seemed like it would be the plan.

Settling on an oversized tshirt and some shorts you sat on your couch sipping a drink as you stared at your phone. Part of you hoped he cancelled, part of you were afraid he might. You were excited and nervous, so much so that when the doorbell rang you almost tossed your drink across the room. As it was you only spilled it a little bit. Setting down the glass you got up and went to the door opening it.

Of all the things you had been expecting, the tall orc in a suit was not it. There was something about him, something unusual but also familiar. It nagged at you, tugging at your mind, but you couldn’t quite place it. Realizing you were just staring you stepped aside and gestured him in. Your face was flush with embarrassment.

“You seem surprised?”

His voice was deep, quiet, gentle sounding. Closing the door you turned to him and nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I have been having issues with my internet and the pictures on the profiles weren’t loading for most of them.”

He looked surprised and his body language changed. “We can cancel at no charge. You should have informed them of the issue. I fully understand.”

He was so polite but you were a little confused. “I don’t need to cancel. I didn’t go into this with any kind of ideal in mind. Looks really aren’t what is important to me. Would you like to sit down so we can discuss?”

The orc nodded and sat on the chair near the couch. He set his bag on the floor and looked at you, his expression guarded, but gentle. He didn’t look angry, more confused than anything. You smiled awkwardly at him as you sat down and pulled your legs under you.

“So, um, this is something I have never done before. Uh, hiring an escort I mean. Well I haven’t really done any of it before and this seemed like the most logical course? I know that sounds weird but I felt that going through a website and trying to hire a professional was safer than trying to meet some rando off the internet from some dating app or chat room and hope he actually knew what he was doing, and wasn’t a murderer or something.”

“That makes sense. You chose a good site. Everyone on it has to go through a vetting process. If you are concerned I have some credentials here I can show you.”

Shaking your head you smiled. “The profiles were pretty thorough and linked to several pieces of documentation. I am certain that you can do what your profile says you can do, or I get my money back.”

Jak nodded and braced his forearms on his knees and leaned forward. “Since you didn’t know I was an orc, I know this isn’t that. So what am I here for? I don’t want to make any assumptions, but I brought enough of a variety of items with me that we should be ok, but I can also improvise.”

“Um, well, see.” Now you were feeling shy and nervous all over again. “I um. I want someone to spank me. I mean I want other things, but I feel like maybe I should start there before I get too crazy you know?” Well it was out. The cat was no longer laying comfortably in the bag.

Jak smiled, a soft smile. “I see, I can do that. Are you wanting any kind of sexual contact or just the spanking?”

“Oh.. uh.” Well that was not the question you thought you would struggle with. You looked him over and found that he was attractive to you. Not that you had ever really looked at an orc that way, but you hadn’t exactly not looked either. They tended to be tall, muscular, strong, those were ideal, but with Jak, it was simply his eyes. Despite the situation, his eyes held genuine kindness. Part of you wanted to know him, the real him, and not what you were paying for. “Do I have to decide right now?”

“It would help. There can be a sexual aspect to spanking and it would help me to know if you want any kind of sexual contact at all, or just the spanking with no other kind of touch.”

“OH. ok, I thought you meant like penetrative sex type sexual contact. Um. I don’t know? I honestly don’t even know if I will like being spanked.” You shrugged looking a little embarrassed.

Jak rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. “Ok, we will need to take this very slow and keep it simple. Instead of a safe word we will use color code. Red means full stop, the scene ends and does not continue. Yellow is pause, green is good to go after a pause. I will need to warm you up first. That means clothing stays on, and I will strike you gently through your clothes before we work up to clothes coming off.” The orc paused. “Would you be willing to tell me the rest of the fantasy, or what made you decide to finally try?”

“Oh, well I guess I just have been having these dreams for the last few months and they have been making me a little crazy. I don’t want to be in control. I want to be held down, to feel strong hands touching me. I want it rough and to feel maybe a little bit helpless.” Your face was bright red now and you were fidgeting a bit while not making eye contact. “I know, it is probably super cliche and silly, but that is what brought me to this decision.”

“I don’t think it is weird, and I am flattered that you chose me, even without seeing me. I hope that I can help you fulfill some of your fantasies and needs.” Jak leaned down and grabbed his bag. “Would you like to move this to the bedroom?”

Standing up you lead Jak to your bedroom and sat on the bed looking up at him. He really was quite tall and built. The suit somehow just made him look more imposing and while you still couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you knew him, you also weren’t sure you cared. He didn’t seem to recognize you, or if he did he hid it well, so whatever this familiarity was, it wasn’t going to be an issue.

Sitting on the bed with you he reached out and grasped your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “Jak is the name I use for this, it isn’t my real name. Normally I don’t give my real name out, but you seem like a trustworthy person and I would actually like to hear you using my real name if you are comfortable with it.”

This was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Somehow you had made him feel comfortable with you and you were now curious what his name could be. Maybe that would give you the clue you needed to know who he was. “Of course, and I will keep it confidential, along with everything else we do tonight.”

“My name is Nick, and I appreciate the discretion.”

Nick, well that really didn’t narrow anything down. It didn’t really help at all, it only made that feeling that you should know stronger. Deciding to ignore it you squeezed his hand. “Well it is nice to meet you Nick, you can call me anything you want to.” You laughed and blushed covering your face with your free hand.

“Well then, I suppose I will just have to call you princess.” His voice was soothing as he pulled you closer up into his lap. His large hand rubbing your back in a soothing motion. “Would you like to lay across my lap for this sweetheart?”

You nodded swiftly, not trusting your voice and squeaked a bit when he easily flipped you onto your stomach and draped you across his legs. He hadn’t even strained himself, and you weren’t exactly a waif or light. Your thighs squeezed together at the thought of just how strong he really was.

When he said he would start slow, he clearly meant it. The strikes were slow and gentle at first. He seemed to know how to control his strength well enough that at first it barely felt like a tap. Soon enough you were feeling warm and squirming in his lap. So far it had been rather pleasant and your mind was running away with possible scenarios on how this night could go from here.

“I think we are ready to remove some clothing don’t you princess?”

“Yes sir?” Your voice was hesitant, you weren’t sure how to respond or if it was even right to call him sir. He did make an almost growling sound so you couldn’t gauge off that, but maybe it was a good sound.

You wiggled off his lap and stripped down to just your shirt and underwear. “Is this ok?”

“If that is where you are comfortable, then yes it is perfect.” Pulling you back across his lap Nick began again with gentle taps.

Now with only your underwear as a barrier you could feel those strikes a little more now. The pain wasn’t uncomfortable, it didn’t even really hurt. There was more of a warm feeling than a feeling of pain. When his tempo increased you felt the first sting of a real strike and it made you jump a bit. The sound you made surprised you, a moan was not what you expected, but that was what came out. You were beginning to come to terms with how much you actually liked this.

Nick continued to spank you, slowly, gently, increasing the speed and strength of the strikes as you wiggled and moaned on his lap. The more he hit you, the more you began to like it. The wetness between your thighs was noticeable now, at least you noticed it, and you were certain he did too, how could he not.

You weren’t the only one aroused. You could feel something hard pressing into you, and there was really only one thing that could be. If what you were feeling was any indication, Nick wasn’t small in that department and that just made you squeeze your legs tighter. This time when he spoke, his voice was more gruff, deeper, husky in a way.

“Are you ready to take off the rest sweetheart?”

Standing up on shaky legs you nodded as he braced you while you tried to remove your clothes. It took a few tries, but you were naked in front of him now. You wanted to be shy, but you were far too aroused to care, and he wasn’t being paid to find you attractive. That alone made things a little easier. Though you had almost forgotten you were paying for this.

“You are quite beautiful. I can tell you are aroused, so I will ask again. Would you like any form of sexual contact?”

Well he was certainly not beating around any bushes and you hesitated before nodding slowly. “Maybe go slow?”

Nick nodded and pulled you back down into his lap. His large rough hands caressed over your bare bottom and you felt a thrill go through you. Again he started with small strikes, but this time he started a little harder than before. It didn’t take you long to get worked up again as his strikes fell faster and harder. The sound of skin hitting skin rang through the bedroom and you felt yourself clenching and throbbing. A desperate noise in your throat somewhere between a moan and a whine.

“You are so beautiful like this, so very beautiful. Can you handle more? I have a paddle with me, or if you have a hair brush?” His voice had a deep growl to it when he spoke.

“Hairbrush.” You panted and made a tiny sound of distress when he lifted you with one arm and lowered you onto the bed.

He came back from your bathroom holding your brush. It had an oval shape and was made of wood. You had never looked at it that way before, as an item you could use in a sexual way. After this, you might need to buy a new brush because you weren’t going to be able to see it as anything but a paddle.

Nick lifted you back onto his lap, again using only one arm, and if you didn’t know better you would think he was trying to show off. Of course any thoughts in your head disappeared the moment the brush impacted your bottom. You cried out, loudly, as he began with slow deliberate strikes. He was more gentle than when he had been using his hand, and that was a blessing as this stung. It hurt a lot more, but it still felt good.

Your core clenched desperately around nothing as you moaned and begged, you didn’t even know what you were begging for, but you needed something. There was a moment when you felt nothing the brush no longer hitting you when you felt Nicks hand press against your back holding you harder to his lap. His other hand pushed your thighs apart and his thick fingers slid over your clit and folds. Your cries became more desperate as pleasure shot through you.

Whimpering and whining you continued to beg as you finally felt one of his fingers push into you, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit. It was embarrassing, or it would have been embarrassing if you had two brain cells to rub together, how quickly you came from just that stimulation alone.

Laying across his lap limp, panting, shaking slightly, Nick lifted you up and cradled you in his lap. You snuggled into him and now that the pleasure was fading could feel just how much your ass hurt.

“I have some lotion I can rub on you. Just lay here, I will get that and some water for you.”

Nick laid you gently onto the bed and moved out of the room into the kitchen to get some water from your fridge. He set it on the nightstand and dug through his bag producing the lotion. First he rubbed it on you, making sure it soaked into the skin before helping you sit up and holding the water while you took sips.

“What about you?” your voice came out in a croak.

His arousal had been, and still was obvious. How could he make you feel so good and not have the chance to feel good himself.

“You are sweet, but that isn’t what you are paying me for. This is about you, not me.”

“You are right Nick, I am paying, and I want you to feel good too. Show me how?”

There was something fragile in his eyes as his expression softened. You still couldn’t place who he was, but in that moment, who he was, was someone you wanted desperately to know better.

“Please?”

#exophilia #Orc x Human #orc boyfriend #bright fanfiction #Kinktober 2020 #bright 2017

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poptod · 4 years

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hey again! i was wondering if u could do an elliot x reader, kinda like an enemies to lovers, where he thinks they’re an average person until they outsmart him which both impresses and pisses him off? but like sweet at the end? also from his pov so that we can hear his little monologues? i’m a sucker for happy endings. thanks and love ur writing

notes: sorry this is a tad late again. had a rough morning. i know nothing about cyber security and absolutely nothing about mr robot. i tried my best thank u for requesting :) hope you like it

Be it the end of days, Elliot would not call upon you. Of course he wouldn't – he barely knew you, only your name and face and the position you held relative to him. Another worker much like himself, just far more normal than him, and far less intelligent than him. That fact didn't stem from any specific dislike for you; just the truth. Among your coworkers you did not stand out, a tactic he often wished he had.

You were barely on his radar, at least not until the question of method came up during a meeting. Some hellhole business had hired them for cyber protection, and out of all those gathered at the tables, Gideon called upon you and him for answers. Elliot suggested the method they usually used – application security. You did not. Instead, with the tip of a pen pressed delicately against your chin, you told Gideon and those present that it'd be a better idea to use network security. Not a massive difference, but a big enough one that your suggestion irked him. The way you said it, too – "I think network would be better," so kind and sweet, a facade so heavy Elliot was surprised you still had a job.

For some strange reason your boss agreed with you.

And you ended up being right.

And suddenly, you became a lot more of an important person in his life, in the definition that he hated you. He payed more attention, and with that he noticed something he should've known all along. You were smart. Like him.

You were smart – so what? Confusion persisted when he tried to think of why that irritated him so terribly. Maybe it was because you remained normal. The two of you were equals, so why did he have issues? Where were yours? From everything he'd noted of you, and as of recent that was quite a lot, you were perfectly fine. No anxiety, no nightmarish mental disturbances, no addictions, no loneliness – kindness was your 'thing'.

Maybe he was just jealous.

The thought stewed like sick in his head as you laughed, the soft sound coming from the break room to his desk, just to make his fist curl and his jaw grind. This feeling, it felt... less than normal. Just like every single fucking thing about him, and he dug his nails further into his palm.

Be it the end of days, Elliot would not trust you. It couldn't be real – you never cried, you never looked stressed, and though you weren't always smiling you were certainly never frowning. Of course, he only noticed this while at work. After hours he found your various online accounts, and what starts as pure curiosity turns into a search for your records, wondering if there's anything that's ever been wrong with you.

Beautiful hair, soft skin, shining eyes, and a smile that could melt ice away from even his heart. No, nothing wrong there. Happy parents, no sign of disability, financial security. Nothing wrong there either. Good friends, useful hobbies, beautiful eyes. Beautiful eyes, saccharine like warm honey and sweet mints. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and waving away the people in his head, redirecting his attention to trying to get your medical records. Just out of curiosity. He doesn't get it – at least not that night, but he knows he'll get it eventually. Just a matter of time, and it's better than simply asking you, an act he would never find approachable.

On Thursday, despite his own leanings, he does actually talk to you. For the first time, and it's quite a lot harder to hate you when you smile and listen carefully to the words he says like they're the most important thing in the world. He'd expected your upfront kindness to be rude and subtle, that passive aggressive thing rich people loved to use. It's still polite, of course it is – you don't know him, although he'd bet he knows you. Nonetheless you act like you don't know him, and while most people would consider it a hindrance to conversation, you use it to your advantage.

You ask him if he's comfortable as though it's a normal question. You make sure you aren't bothering him, you ask if he wants to talk about the project, you respect every boundary he sets, you wait for him to respond as he talks to himself in his head, but the most surprising part is that somehow it feels normal. Like these are normal questions to ask, like you do this with everyone, and by the end of it he's wondering if you actually do do it for everyone.

Later you ask him if he wants to go out with some of your coworkers for a drink. He says no, you don't try to get him to come, and you give him the option of coming later if he wants to. You also tell him he's welcome on any other evening out. Over the next couple weeks you stay true to your word – you ask him if he wants to come, and one evening he says yes. Not out of any pressure from you, just simple curiosity to your behavior outside the workplace.

Turns out you aren't all that different. You keep up that rule of comfort, and as you meet multiple people in the crowded bar he wonders how the hell you keep up with it without bursting out in irritation. Even he can't keep up, and he's one of those specific people, the kind that need alterations to interactions to be comfortable. You hold open the door for those behind you, you bring drinks to those who ask you to carry them, you listen to the stories of strangers and friends alike. You smile almost the entire evening.

And he catches you in that smile, your eyes meeting his. Recognizing him you smile even wider, waving at him as a pleasant blush covers over your cheeks, a genuine happiness to simply be near him in a way that might mean you're friends.

No one smiles when they see him. He's a bit of a horror story in the office, but you smile.

It's a nice feeling.

Be it the end of days, he would not join your life. He's too much of an embarrassment, too much of a fuck-up to exist without guilt in your story, too terrified of hindering your potential. You're perfect, and while at first he didn't believe it to be true it's clear now.

He avoids you for the most part. Ducking out of rooms and meetings, staying right at his desk, leaving work early or late relative to your schedule. At first when you pass by him (rarely with his efforts), you still smiled and waved silently. After a while, you stop smiling, and a little while later you avert your eyes at his presence. He feels horrid for what he does, seeing how you're even now trying to make him comfortable through recognizing his disinterest in you and accordingly growing a faux disinterest in him.

It's not like that unhappiness is always visible – in fact, it rarely shows, only in the moments where your eyes mistakenly meet. However most other hours of the day you're working with that tapping of your foot and the soft humming that he can only hear if he strains. That or talking to your coworkers, helping them through difficult issues and scanning through data.

Even with his special steps made to rid you of his unpleasant life, there are moments where it's unavoidable to in the very least be near each other. Mandatory meetings and office parties that he's roped into, unwillingly of course, but as his coworkers drink you join him on the faraway couch looking over the bustling, tipsy crowd.

"I know you don't like me all that much," you say, words soft and not meeting his eye. You remembered he doesn't like eye contact all that much. "I just want to apologize if I ever said or did anything to offend you. I didn't mean to, you seem like a very kind person."

He scoffs, and in confusion you look to him.

"You know I'm not nice," he mutters almost under his breath, but as always you pay close attention and decipher his words.

"Not to people you don't trust, no. Sometimes people find it hard to trust others and that's perfectly okay," you say with a smile, one that he quickly looks away from. "But you're not cruel. You're actually rather polite when people respect you in return. It's not an uncommon trait at all."

You think he hates you and you're still trying to make him feel better.

"How the hell do you do it?" He finally asks, the words blurting out before he can fully process what they mean. When he hears what he says his heart stops, shivering in the silence of your reply, anxious to see if you'll even answer at all.

"Do what?"

"Be nice. To everyone," he explains himself, growing quiet with each passing second.

Again you pause, thinking on his question before you answer.

"I do get annoyed with people a lot. I don't want to do things for people sometimes, but when people ask of me something I ask myself, 'what do I lose from doing this?' and 'what does this person gain from me doing this?', and usually it doesn't cost me anything, and most times it relieves stress off a lot of people," you say, using small hand gestures as you speak. "That, and it takes very little effort to make sure people are comfortable. Also helps you to get to know the person better, you know? You get a lot information about people when you know what makes them comfortable."

He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. Instead he scoffs, stands, and leaves.

Be it the end of days, he would not ask anything of you. You're perfectly happy, and he's mostly satisfied knowing that you're more human than he previously thought. Not fully satisfied – a part of him wants to be close to you, yearns for that warmth you could so easily give him, that kindness in you that he finds so rarely. But he does fine on his own, and so do you, and he finds he doesn't know how to go about becoming friends with you. He doesn't know how, so he doesn't try.

Time passes and he tries to think of you less often, only successful once every two full moons. The rest of the time he looks across the clean-cut cubicles for you, over the grey wasteland for your glow, aching to hear that distant humming again. You come to him in dreams and hallucinations alike, and sometimes he even falls for it. He lets himself believe it, that you'd somehow find your way to his apartment, that you'd be willing to offer familiarity and kindness – even to someone like him.

Fortunately the two of you are on good terms, relatively. Better than they were when he was avoiding you entirely. Now he's just not interacting with you. He's fine being in the same room, hell, he's fine standing next to you, but he doesn't strike up a conversation. Neither do you, and the polite but work-centered relationship continues.

On a rainy evening his boss catches him before he can leave, asking if he could put in a few hours off the clock, and everyone knows bosses never ask. So he sits back down at his desk, thinking bitterly on what he could be doing instead of stuck inside lifeless walls as rain and hail batters hell against the skyscraper windows. Outside, there aren't any lights – he's too high up in the sky to easily see the lights of cars and restaurants on the streets. All he can see is a powered out building's dark windows, so he doesn't linger on the view long.

Slowly most other people file out, but he's not quite done with the assignment. It's not quite right, something's out of place, hidden from his searching eyes that scan the bright screen so ferociously. A burning sensation begins to grow in his head, begging him to return to his home computers where the pixels aren't quite so large. His tie holds a tight rope around his neck, his breathing growing harsh, and the trance of discomfort only broken when the sound of a curse, followed by the slap of a hand against a counter and a choked sob, reaches him.

Peeking over the walls he looks to the break room, the source of the noise, and in the seemingly empty office (completely empty to you), you're curled up on the floor with your hands over your eyes. His breathing halts when another sob wracks through your body, your shoulders shivering with the intensity that holds him in place, unable to look away or to move closer. A screech comes from your shoe when it slides across the linoleum floor, curling your legs tight against your chest.

You're muttering something – something he can't quite hear, but he's spoken the words himself enough times that he thinks he knows what you're saying.

Shut up.

Please be quiet.

Go away.

He knows what that means to him. Breakdowns, unrelenting voices, pushing him and criticizing his every move, but that's him. That's normal for him, he's broken in that way and a dozen others. You're not.

You're not broken at all, and for that a new curiosity blooms in his chest. It's a little sick, but it pushes him to approach you, slow footsteps making themselves clear to ensure you wouldn't jump.

"Hey," he says rather lamely, his voice low and cracking with his insecurity. He's not usually on the giving end of comfort, and to be fair, he's not usually on the receiving end, either.

"I'm sorry," you get out, your tone like the creaking of a rotted door, tired and broken. You keep your face hidden in your hands. "I didn't know you were here."

"It's... I don't mind," he says, this time much more even, and with that clarity you recognize him.

"What are you doing here so late, Elliot?" You ask softly, your breathing beginning to even.

"Gideon asked me to," he answers. "You?"

"Needed to look over some coding," you mumble, finally raising your head from your hands. Strands of hair stick to your skin, wet from tears and blushing from the heat of your hands.

Shifting slightly, he moves from a knelt position to a sitting one, his legs crossed as he sat in front of you, using that patience you so often had and this time using it to your advantage. He can wait – it doesn't cost him anything, and it would mean the world to you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks quietly when you fully get your breathing under control.

"Thank you," you murmur, staring at the ground beside him. "You ever have.. these thoughts, they... bad thoughts, that just keep on telling you to do bad things?"

"... yes," he answers hesitantly.

"You can't tell anyone this," you add quietly, to which he fully agrees. He's giving a part of himself here, too. "... but it's worse than that. They can put these visions in my eyes, it's usually manageable. Bugs that aren't there. Ghost fingers on my face and back. Sometimes it gets bad though, and it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to keep it secret. I could get fired, you know."

"I know," he says almost automatically, but he does know what it's like. To question what's real, never knowing if those words in your head are your own, unable to see past the charade of a reality. "I get them too," he says, and immediately he knows he's chosen the right words for once.

"Thank you for telling me," you say, always a mediator between the worlds people make up in their minds. "It really does make me feel better that I'm not alone."

You're emotional. He knows that, he knows you're interested in the emotions of yourself and others, but only now does he realize it's actually clinical kindness. Respect above all, thank you for the littlest things, and a plain explanation of your own emotions. Maybe it makes it easier for you – he knows he certainly appreciates it. Sometimes it's hard to decipher facial emotions, and having you tell him straight lets him skip past that uncertainty and into a place he knows he can help from.

Be it the end of days, he would protect you. You're like him, and he's like you, and while the differences are too clear to those viewing your friendship, there's actually more similarities than differences. Sure, you're wonderful with social interactions, but you also hear voices, like him. You have breakdowns, like him, you handle your emotions with very specific preferences.

Somehow you become part of him – the innocent part, the part worth saving, and that's why he would protect you. You're a part of him in a way that makes him think maybe I'm not all bad, as long as the part that isn't bad is you. He lets you in bit by bit, inviting you to his apartment on a whim, even letting you cook dinner for the two of you.

You stay over one night. Not on purpose, but you fall asleep on the floor, facing the buzzing television with your dirty plate beside you. Keeping quiet he takes both your plates, leaving them in the kitchen before joining you on the floor. Hesitantly he raises his hand, reaching for you with delicate fingers aiming to brush the stray hairs falling upon your sleeping face. He does just so, taking in a moment where he can touch you without fear. Where it's just you, no crying thoughts on how you might despise this time spent with him, how you hate the way he moves and speaks – it's just you.

And you've turned into everything.

The flowers growing in the cracks of cement. The rain that patters against the forest canopy, slipping past the leaves, mist creeping up through the mountain's valley. The sun that shines warm against his clothes and melts sweet ice cream. The bird song in a city park. The mother with her child. The poetry of old and new poets, the bubbles in soda, handwritten words on rough parchment. You are the paint on the hands of budding artists, the soft pillowcases of a bed loved by a decades-old couple, the posters hanging in a teenager's room, every lovely thing in the world, every action, scent, feeling, and taste imbued with a life given by those who adore their worlds so dearly.

Be it the end of days, he would love you, and nothing more.

#elliot alderson x reader #Elliot Alderson #mr. robot

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aphrodicted · 3 years

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December (2020) for the Zodiac signs

Let's see what awaits us this December. A general reading for all signs, so the message you receive will be general and may not reflect your current situation. To have a more "accurate" reading, I recommend you search for your sun sign, ascendant, moon sign and your Venus.⁣

ARIES

Love: The World, The Justice: Your love situation has come to an end. People who have a partner will experience an improvement in your relationship. Especially those who aren’t married or have formalized your relationship, since that wedding or that intention to formalize may appear this month. Couples who have recently suffered a distance or a breakup, my cards announce a reconciliation. Others, however, will separate from the couple by mutual agreement, since the relationship has gradually died. For my singles! Your love life is about to change and this month, although we can extend it until January, that dream person will appear to be your future boyfriend/girlfriend.

Health: The Devil, The Strenght: This month you will not feel in top shape and my cards ask to look at the intestines, pancreas and heart. The youngest can suffer from a hormonal problem. If you have the chance, a check-up would be very positive. It’s important to understand this tiredness and give yourself time to rest. It’s a good time to work the mind.

Work: The Hierophant, The Temperance (reversed): Find thoughtful and calm occupations at work. Work on the relationship with colleagues, since there may be an irresponsible person who endangers the work. Responsibility will be essential. The works related to restoration or food will be well aspected.

TAURUS

Love: The Temperance: Your love life will be stable and without great problems. Any discussion or disagreement with your partner will be solved because both of you will work to solve misunderstandings. Some of you can take a little pleasant trip. For my singles: there is a chance to meet someone new somewhere new, be it an open or closed place.

Health: The Tower: Drastic health changes. It’s a warning from the Universe because your body needs attention. Possible physical or moral falls. There is a lot of risk around you and you must be more alert to avoid any accident. The nerves (stress) and the lower back are the most prominent. They also tell me about the kidneys.

Work: The Hanged Man: Bad work time for many of you. There is no motivation to continue working, possibly due to work restrictions or limitations that don’t allow you to demonstrate your potential. The circumstances at work are what they are, but that shouldn't depress you, as it’s temporary. Everything will work out for you, even if things are delayed at the moment. If you are looking for work, an opportunity will appear after a search period.

GEMINI

Love: The Sun: Very good month to enjoy love in any of its forms. Any discussion with your partner or people of your esteem will disappear without effort. It’s a very beautiful month and full of moments to enjoy with those you love the most. However, let you not make a partisan use of your love luck. Remember love contains sharing and mercy among others! Take the time to confess your feelings to your partner, that love interest, and even family or friends. Those of you who are single, it’s a very good month to find a boyfriend/girlfriend.

Health: The Wheel of Fortune: A lot of vitality, strength and energy for all of you who are in good health right now. Those of you who are sick or carry some disease, the letters announce a quick recovery. Be careful with your nerves and any habit or situation that can reduce them and cause anxiety or stress. On the other hand, continue to take care of your diet, since any abuse could reduce you.

Work: The High Priestess (reversed): Prudence with co-workers or your boss. It isn’t a good time to start new projects, since colleagues aren’t about to support your ideas, but quite the opposite. There may be some case of plagiarism. It’s a time of occupational risk, where you can be closely watched by superiors and colleagues. Great caution!

CANCER

Love: The Star: A month in which you must take the opportunity to communicate with your boyfriend/girlfriend. You are one of the most sentimental signs, so take the opportunity to make your feelings and your needs known to your partner. The relationship will be stable throughout the month, but you must work to find that mental affinity that unites you with your partner. The woman in the couple will play a fundamental role this month. Singles can meet someone during a trip or a trip to a place.

Health: The Wheel of Fortune: December should be a quiet and restful period. My cards recommend activities such as meditation, prayer, or yoga. Take the opportunity to connect with yourself and relax. Stress can become your worst enemy this month (much more with all the holidays). In addition, those people who carry a disease follow the same advice, since the improvement will be slower than you would like.

Work: The Death, The Justice: New opportunities in the workplace. Very good ideas for those of you who work with your creativity. Presentations to superiors will be approved. Even seeking partners and expanding the business can be beneficial. Those of you looking for jobs can find one, but effort is key to it.

LEO

Love: The Justice, The Death: My cards tell you about marriage and new relationships. People who have a romantic interest, it’s a good month to propose a love relationship to that person. For stable couples: there is the possibility of marriage proposals or formalizations, although the relationship will be very stable. Yes, there will be positive changes in the love life of all of you. I don’t see you too passionate this month, but I do see you very sure of your feelings.

Health: The Sun, The Tower (reversed): Very good health that suddenly declines. The risks of falls (physical or moral) or accidents are a reality. Be very careful with falls, as they could cause sprains or breaks. Special care with eating during these holidays and with eating too much food that can make you feel bad.

Work: The Judgement: A month where you will feel protected at work. The company, businesses or projects will appear to be protected in a divine way. Some of you can enjoy job promotions during the month of December. However, there are many responsibilities to take care of that can wear you out. Those of you who are looking for work, there is a possibility, but after a lot of searching.

VIRGO

Love: The World, The Magician: For most of you, a cycle ends in your love life and a new one begins. Ready to plant that new seed that can bring you a new love relationship in 2021! Singles must work on your energy to receive a new year full of love. Couples will pass without great ups and downs, since the feelings are reinforced and the relationship has the necessary bases to continue. If any of you think about leaving your partner because you feel that the relationship is dead: it’s time to do it before the end of the year.

Health: The Moon: Anxiety and depression are the main enemies for your health. Work may be influencing your health, so watch your body a little more than usual. Sleeping hours must be respected as well. My cards warn of possible fluid retention and kidney problems. Be careful how you treat your body during these dinner and party times.

Work: The Hanged Man (reversed): There may be unfavorable changes at work for you. Alterations in the workforce, overwork, resignations and sacrifices without remuneration. At least this month. Keep an eye on how you communicate with your colleagues and superiors, as it could lead to problems in the future. Especially with colleagues who could take advantage of your skills and give you some of their work.

LIBRA

Love: The Wheel of Fortune (reversed): A love life full of misunderstandings with your boyfriend/girlfriend during this month. There is someone, possibly a woman, influencing negatively. Calm and honest communication will be essential in solving any problem. Your relationship will be very changeable and the couple may have continuous mood swings. Be careful with taking things for granted. For singles or people who have someone in mind, my cards advise seeking a second opinion before taking the step into a new relationship.

Health: The Emperor: Good health this December. Those of you who are suffering from a health problem, this card announces good recoveries. Although you will have great vitality, it’s advisable to be careful of falls and blows that can affect arms or legs.

Job: The High Priestess: The work you do this month should be focused on the future. The efforts at work will surely be reflected during the next year. Prudence when making employment decisions, there may be delays, and in carrying out new projects that will need prior reflection. There will be positive changes in the future, so work towards your goals. Those of you who don't have a job, you can find one after a while searching (probably in 2021).

SCORPIO

Love: The Hermit: Love will not be with you too much this month, but loneliness is present in your love life. However, take advantage of these days to get to know yourself. Emotional isolation will be positive (especially for singles). For couples there are possible ruptures due to lack of clarity and vision of the future together. It’s a time of little passion in general and of finding what unites you to your couple.

Health: The Star: Good health and vitality. Very good state of mind that will affect your mental health. Don’t seek ulterior motives this month, but be practical and rational. If going somewhere or visiting someone these holidays causes you discomfort, avoid going or maintaining contact with that person. Be careful with your nerves and intestines, since my cards predict excesses of food and drink that can affect you in the future. A medical check-up at the end of the month is a good idea.

Job: The Devil (reversed): Work problems will probably be solved, but you should stay away from gossip. A lot of work, but too hard for you. I feel you unhappy during this month. Don’t look for work advice from family or closest friends, since the solution isn’t there. Talking about work at family dinners isn’t a good idea. Those of you looking for work, this month isn’t a good time, although small paid jobs may appear in black.

SAGITTARIUS

Love: The Tower: Some couples can break up because of cheating or betrayal. Even an argument or a fight with your partner can become a breakup. You must be careful with how you communicate with your couple, as you can cause irreparable damage. The breakup or end of the relationship can be traumatic for some. This isn’t the time to find a partner or start a love relationship because it can end badly.

Health: The Star, The Wheel of Fortune (reversed): Good health at the beginning of the month, but watch out for any emotional or mental ups and downs. Stress or anxiety can become an enemy. Some discomfort of nervous origin or a mood decline may appear. Take care of your mental health and avoid situations that may bother you to these extremes.

Job - The Magician: This month there will be work to do in your workplace. Different job opportunities will appear, whether they are new jobs or projects. However, you need to have a little more initiative and dare to start new things. If you are looking for work, this month you can find it.

CAPRICORN

Love: The Stenght (reversed): You will feel very restless during this month. Possible distrust of your partner that will make you be in a constant state of alert. On the other hand, disagreements with your couple will be very popular. You will not have the same vision of things, even when preparing meetings with the family during these parties or on a sexual level. For singles, someone very cold and of little physical contact may appear.

Health: The Temperance: Moment of balance, harmony and tranquility. It’s a month of carefree and total rest. Lots of vitality and energy that must be used for oneself. It's time to pamper yourself and take care of yourself with something special, be it a treatment for skin, hair, etc. However, don’t fall into negative excesses during the holidays.

Work: The Hierophant (reversed): My cards warn you not to mix work with family or friends. The work should go in a different direction to your relatives, so don’t seek advice from family or friends, as these will not help you as you really need. In addition, my cards warn you of the little companionship you will experience. Peers and superiors can take advantage and give you more work than you really need to do. If irresponsibility comes from you, this attitude can lead you to lose your job. Delays will appear in any labor resolution that may be salary or carrying out projects.

AQUARIUS

Love: The Empress: A month of stability, strength and energy in the couple. You both have the necessary elements for the relationship to work well. If you are looking for a baby, it’s a good month to give it a try. For singles, you can have the opportunity to start a romantic relationship with someone very attractive and with great feminine energy. It attracts many people. However, be careful with that person you are interested in, as they could have a partner without you knowing.

Health - The Wheel of Fortune (reversed): Bone pain, muscle pain, or fibromyalgia. Be careful with falls or blows that can cause fractures! If you are waiting for the result of a medical test, it may be delayed. On the other hand, it’s a good time to connect with our spiritual self and clean those negative tendencies that may be contaminating our interior and connection with your Higher Self.

Job - The Emperor: This month is ideal to carry out action and command work, where you are the leader of a group or a project. It’s a time to work on your relationship with your coworkers and improve your skills to be able to work as a team, as it may be necessary. Collaboration will be critical this month. Be careful those of you who have male bosses!

PISCES

Love: The Justice, The Sun (reversed): My singles can find a partner this month! Especially those who have someone in mind, my cards encourage you to clear doubts and dare. Couples can be living a very good time, where links and formalizations will be the order of the day. The relationship will be stable and without great ups and downs, although you may suffer some easily solvable problems or disappointments.

Health: The Chariot (reversed): My cards talk about foot problems, diabetes, or fluid retention for the next few days. The holidays are approaching and any excess can negatively influence us. Beware of excess food or drink. In addition, it’s important not to forget about our mental health, since some of you could experience some kind of emotional imbalance. You are an externalizing sign, so find those people to talk to.

Work: The Death (reversed): Projects, or work in general, can come to a halt during this month. You may feel like you are wasting your time at your workplace, but remember it’s temporary. If you feel this work regression is haunting you, my cards encourage you to seek a new strategy or, if you have the opportunity, a new job. Those of you looking for work, this month will not appear that opportunity.

#zodiac #horoscope #zodiac signs #universe #december #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #aphro.horoscope

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blisspads · 3 years

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How does Pornography affect us- Is Porn Harmful?

Whether you deny it or not, Pornography belongs to the world from the beginning of mankind. There are many paintings and sculptures which depict the existence of pornography in ancient Indian culture. People across the world speak different languages, eat different foods, follow different cultures, but when it comes to porn, people from all the countries watch it, Period!

Despite being seen by millions of people, porn is considered a malignant threat to society’s well-being. To reduce the number of sexual crimes that are rapidly increasing, in 2018, the Indian government posed its second ban on pornography sites especially those that involve children in the sexual act.

But, why do people resort to porn in the first place?

A lot of modern couples choose to watch sexually explicit videos to spice up their boring sex encounters and master new ways to pleasure their partner.

Because people are unwilling to engage in sexually related conversations, young adults search for their answers in pornography.

Due to the fear of being judged, many take refuge in porn instead of coming out explicitly about their sexual preferences.

With pornography, one no longer needs a partner to make them feel good. People watch porn to provide sexual relief through self-love.

People see porn to discover different ways of making love, but have you ever wondered whether the content shown in pornography is a fact or fantasy. When people try to apply this porn fantasy to real life, they hit a bump instead of pleasure.

Watching porn changes the way of our usual thinking and will eventually become a habitual practice that leads to trouble in facing the reality, boredom, desensitization, objectification of women, and an increase in sex crimes.

Sexual Violence

In 2018, four schoolboys’ gang-raped a 16-year-old girl after luring her to a storeroom in the name of Independence Day preparations for their school. When investigated, one of the boys exposed that the idea of rape came to him after watching similar porn on his mobile phone. This triggered the High Court to suggest curbs on pornographic sites to avoid bad influence on the minds of children, followed by the porn ban implemented by the Indian government.

Not all the people watching porn are involved in sex crimes, but we also cannot deny the fact porn can be a catalyst for the violent sexual behaviours that are rising in the current scenarios.

Sexual Satisfaction

Reports say that couples watching porn together are more dedicated and sexually satisfied in their relationship, compared to those who watch it alone. If your partner is not open to the idea of fantasy sex, then compelling them to do so would trigger their insecurities as they might think that you fall more to the perfect porn star’s body. This would cause a drift in your lovely relationship and to always feel less satisfied in the act of love.

Addiction

Among all the negative effects of watching porn, sex addiction stands at the top of the list. Some people get too stuck in that made-up world leading to an obsession with sexual thoughts, urges, or behaviours that cause troubles or distress, negatively affecting their job, relationships, and other aspects of life. People who are addicts seek to watch sexually explicit videos because they want it, rather than because they enjoy it. Porn acts as a component in sex addiction, but whether porn itself causes addiction is not yet proven.

Attitude Towards Women

In most porn videos women are portrayed as some sex objects which fuel sexist attitudes and set unrealistic sexual expectations. Increased porn consumption can lead to negative attitudes toward women including stereotypes, hostility, and abuses.

How does COVID-19 Influence Pornography Use?

Despite the ban on pornography by the Indian government, the Covid-19 curfew saw the highest spike in porn watching. India is the third biggest porn watching nation after the US and UK. Reports state that of the total traffic porn sites from India, 30 percent of them were women.

The quarantine posed previously unseen levels of financial challenges, separation from loved ones. Whether it was because of the lack of physical company or just the need to blow off some steam, many people accessed the porn sites. People sought sexually explicit videos to reduce the stress of loneliness and to deal with the anxiety and depression caused by COVID-19.

Also, researchers say that they found no evidence that porn led to any problematic deeds, such as addictive, compulsive, risky, or unhealthy behaviours in this pandemic period.

Message from Bliss Natural

The likelihood of porn having a negative effect on life very much depends on the individual consuming it. If you find no control over your porn use, or your sexual expectations become unrealistic, seek help from a qualified sex therapist to manage the porn consumption in your life, before it starts affecting your work or relationships.

#mental health #pornography effects #adolecent education #personal life

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apenitentialprayer · 3 years

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Bishop Hassan Dehqani-Tafti (bottom left), with his wife (Margaret, bottom right), and children (daughters Shirin, Sussanne, and Guli; son Bahram). Source. The Right Reverend was the first ethnic Persian to hold to office of Bishop of Iran in the Anglican Church. Dehqani-Tafti was technically a convert to the faith, but Christianity was an interwoven element in his life from before his birth. A gradual process, Dehqani-Tafti’s conversion highlights how blurred the lines Christianity and Islam can be. The outline of this relationship, given below the cut, is derived from the doctoral thesis of Sister Agnes Angela Wilkins, “From Islam to Christianity: A Study in the Life and Thought of Hassan Dehqani-Tafti and Jean-Mohammed Abd-El-Jalil in the Ongoing Search for a Deeper Understanding Between Christianity and Islam,” itself heavily reliant on the Right Reverend’s autobiography.

Childhood and Education

Hassan was the son of Mohammad, an illiterate but pious Muslim, and Sekinah. Sekinah, the daughter of a ‘Mulla Zahra,’ who received that honorary title for being able to read and recite the Qur’an, was a convert to Christianity. She had worked as a nurse with her mother in a missionary hospital, and it was there that she decided to be baptized. She also learned to read and write. After being married to Mohammad, she had three children, the middle one being Hassan. For the first five years of his life, Hassan, despite being raised a Shi‘a Muslim, remembers visits from the missionaries and singing songs with Biblical themes. This changed after his mother died, when he was about five years old. Before her death, Sekinah had requested that a friend of hers help raise at least one of her children to be Christian; this friend, a Ms. Kingdon, spent about a year and a half trying to convince his father to allow it. Ultimately, the boy was allowed, spending about a year in an otherwise all-girls school. There, he learned The Lord’s Prayer and memorized a few psalms, in addition to learning the Persian alphabet. Once he beeccame too old to stay at an all-girl’s school, the boy was sent to a missionary school in the former Safavid capital of Isfahan. It was there that he studied calligraphy, poetry, and Scriptures under the headmaster Jalil Aqa. Jalil Aqa was of Cossack descent, but had fully integrated into the Persian culture of his upbringing. As a young man, he was a Sunni Muslim, but with a strong mystical bend. He converted to Christianity through conversations about the relationship between Christ and the body of believers with missionaries at a hospital. Jalil Aqa represented a kind of Christianity that “digested the best of Persian culture, and then had baptized the whole into [itself].” Nonetheless, the young Hassan would oscillate between the Christianity of his schooling and the Islam of his family life. By the time he was 15, his father wavered over whether he should continue to allow his son to go to school, but ultimately allowed him to; by 17, Hassan had written a list of 77 resolutions he wished to follow; by 18, he was a baptized Christian. Many friends no longer spoke to him, he could no longer eat from the same bowl as his family, and contact with him made his loved ones ritually impure. His father described watching his son convert to Christianity as akin to having his hand cut off.

Crisis

The first few years after baptism were relatively easy. He attended the University of Tehran as a closeted Christian. Most students were more interested in secular philosophy and Western culture to really care anyway, but a couple people that he did tell were supportive or disgusted. When he had to join military service, he had to out himself, and was dismissed by his superior for being untrustworthy for having apostasized from Islam. Problems arose, however, when he considered ordination. His military service had given him a good salary, and his family -who also did not like the idea of the social suicide he would undergo as a pastor- attempted to convince him to remain there. Instead, the local missionaries encouraged him to go to Cambridge University, where he felt a loneliness he had never felt before. He began to resent God for his mother’s death, blame the missionaries for the widening gap between himself and his family, and even consider suicide. This crisis was resolved through forming a relationship with Bishop Stephen Neill, who seems to have taken on a fatherly role to him. Although they only met in person six times, the two would continue to correspond through letters. It is around this time that Hassan developed a strong attachment to the Book of Job, and felt a calling to a deeper sort of repentance, a total reorientation of his life. Though offered a job at Cambridge, he wanted to continue his ministry in his home country.

Returning to Iran

Though he was frequently visited by the Detective Bureau of Police, an frequently dealt with minor harassment, the early years of Hassan’s return were happy ones. In 1949 he was ordained a deacon in the Anglican Church (an organization whose theological leanings Kingdon did not approve of, though she was happy for him). In 1950, he was made a priest, and in 1952 he married the daughter of the current Bishop of Iran (Margaret, pictured above). In 1960, he was consecrated the Bishop of Iran. Hassan’s father died in 1970, and his attempt to attend the funeral only highlighted how large the rift between his family and himself had become. His brother did not want him there, and a group of mullahs refused to let him enter, forcing him to pray for his father outside the mosque. The growth that the Anglican Church in Iran would experience, including the establishment of more hospitals and programs to help make the blind community more self-sufficient, was reversed in the early weeks of the Revolution. Although the land that the hospitals were built on was waaf, a semi-sacred gift under Islamic law, they were seized by Revolutionaries after a senior priest was murdered. His house was ransacked, and threatening messages sent to his house. The anxiety and stress left him bedridden for three weeks. During this time, he decided that taqiyya, pretending to assimilate into the larger religious majority, could not be a strategy for the threatened Christian community: “Christ was almost ruthless about being and showing who you are.” Hassan found inspiration from the life of Saint Thomas Moore, an English Catholic who was killed for refusing to renounce his faith during the Anglican Reformation, and attributed his recovery to a “new infilling of the love of God.” If he were to be killed, then he would be killed; “The important thing is to continue God's work with utmost loyalty to the end.” This was a good attitude to have, because he was soon arrested and interrogated for access to a diocesan bank account. He was forced to stay in a yard where public executions by firing squad happened, he was brought to a revolutionary court, and was the victim of an assassination attempt - an attempt that ended with his wife being shot in the hand after she threw herself in front of him. The two were ultimately sent to Cyprus, with the hope of reuniting with their family. Unforunately, the situation in Iran became too much, and after his son was assassinated (an act that Hassan forgave the killers for), the family was permanently moved to England.

A Persian Christian

The nineteen year exile that lasted from 1979 to his death was very hard on Hassan. The Bishop of Iran was an Iranian who loved his country and his culture. In the early years of his bishopric, he had worked with thinkers like Kenneth Cragg in an attempt to reconcile his Islamic Persian heritage with his Christian faith. In his writings, Dehqani-Tafti wrote for a mixed Christian and Muslim audience. His largest influence in the formation of his faith was a man who did not see Christianity as something at odds with Persian culture. The name of Dehqani-Tafti’s memoir, The Unfolding Design of My World, is a reference to the Naqsh-i-Jahan (Design of the World) Square, a prominent landmark in his beloved Isfahan. His gravestone has a Persian translation of Ephesians 2:19 (“So then you are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God”) engraved onto it. His pectoral cross has been returned to Iran, where it is displayed in the Isfahan church he spent so much time in.

#figures of note #Anglicanism #Christianity #Hassan Dehqani Tafti #conversion #Islam

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sue-bts · 4 years

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of all the stars in the sky - yoonmin soulmate au

“look up, at all those stars, they’re all soulmates who’ve gone up to the sky together.”

yoongi has heard this all before, but it sounds new when it comes from jimin’s voice.

“aren’t they so beautiful? they shine so brightly because they’re together.”

“then what are falling stars?” yoongi mumbles into jimin’s skin.

“they’re people like me. who didn’t get to meet their soulmate before passing,” jimin’s voice is soft, but it pains yoongi so much to hear the other say those words. “they’re touching down to earth the spend the night with their soulmate, like i am with you.”

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Park Jimin

Warnings: implied character death, slight angst with happy ending

Words: 8,607

/ AO3 LINK /

yoongi is fed up. that is usual for him though. with the day to day stresses of his job, the interactions that always linger in his mind. he at least has the sky to confide in. it has begun to welcome him with a certain degree of warmth that he hadn’t experienced most of his life, and bets not many others experience either. in instances he’d ask others if they found the kind of solace that he does when looking towards the night sky. they would hum, their gaze flicking up, scanning the stars, but they could never settle on a certain thing to focus on, they’d always look back to yoongi with a pressed expression.

“i suppose. don’t we all?”

yoongi would nod. but he knew they didn’t see it as he did. when he looks up to the sky, as he is again tonight, he knows there is more. beyond the pulses of light from the stars, behind the dark blue distance, behind the occasional wisps of clouds that part. it calms a part of him he cannot distinguish, his face holding a pleased expression, hardly a smile, but warm like a smile. his lips have a lilt to them, his eyes try to search for where this feeling comes from, where this warmth emerges, his fingers carve into the wet grass of night. of all the stars in the sky, he is falling in love with the brightest one.

this night is special, people in his small town were talking about it earlier in the day, and despite not usually paying attention to crowds or random chatter, he heard they were talking about the night sky, so he perked an ear to listen.

“there are going to be a lot of falling stars tonight.”

“oh, i heard! i’ll watch from my window.”

“me and the kids are going to set up a blanket and prepare food to bring with us while we watch.”

yoongi was pleased to hear this, that there would be falling stars. later, after closing up his shop, he made his way down his secret path to a clearing. it was all his own. no one knew about this small field that parted the deep forrest. it was easy to get to and yoongi often came to it to fall deeper and deeper in love. when he first found the clearing that offered him quiet after finishing his shift, he began to stargaze more frequently. on most nights he’ll bring a blanket and spread it out to sit on, and he places himself on it with a fondness in his heart.

tonight he can hear the buzz of people far off, there are a few other partings in the woods where other people more frequently gather. yoongi feels lucky to have a private space to himself. tonight, more people gather in these partings of the woods than usual. there are families together, couples, or the few who came alone, as yoongi has come. but yoongi knows these people by themselves must have a stronger feeling of loneliness than he does. yoongi looks up to the sky, there are no clouds to block his vision, it is a clear and crisp night.

quickly, he scans over the stars until his vision falls on his favorite one. it always flashes the brightest bursts of light than the rest and always beckons to yoongi in a way he can’t bring himself to fathom. never before has anything called to him as this star does. his mouth falls open, taking in the sight, wishing his thoughts could travel far up to the sky and the star could listen. they are silly thoughts, thoughts he’d never dare say to anyone. of love, of longing, of affection, things that aren’t commonly associated with a yoongi type of guy. but he can’t turn them off, they flood every crevice of his skull, they swarm his senses and all jumble over each other.

“hello?”

a quiet voice whispers, interrupting his pondering. yoongi startles, his head whipping around the little clearing. no one is there, no figure perched in the shadows, not the slightest shuffle across the grass. yoongi’s heart still jumps within his chest, his eyes can’t stop fluttering across the space.

“i’m sorry for scaring you…” the voice whispers again. it is so faint yoongi can’t distinguish if it is a different voice than his own within his head. he remains quiet, itching to stand from his blanket and make sure no one is hiding on a branch or behind the bark of a tree. even if they were, why would they bother with yoongi, a little man who only wants to gaze up at the sky?

“yoongi? your name is min yoongi right?”

yoongi’s stomach twists, maybe he’s spent a few too many hours alone, maybe he’s started to go mad. he swallows harshly, finally summoning the courage to stand up and gather his blanket, frowning at his surroundings. maybe some child from the town was dared to mess with the loner of the town, startle him to the point that he never dares go back to his favorite patch of meadow along the countryside. yoongi shakes his head, beginning to stomp off in the direction of his cottage, he never has the patience to deal with little children’s games or someone disturbing his quiet.

“wait! don’t go. please.” the voice is even fainter than before, beginning to sound like a small gust of wind between tree branches. if someone told yoongi they heard the noise as well he’d believe it to have been just the whistle between blades of grass.

“i’ll loose my voice completely if you remain so startled. please, calm down, come back.”

the phrase drifts through yoongi, the sound is different than any thought he’s ever had, any noise anyone’s ever spoken to him. it reverberated, it twists itself within his joints and wafts across his mind. he stops in his tracks, but doesn’t dare return to his divot in the grass. a fear tinges within him. does he have a stalker now? would he return to his cottage only to see it’s been raided? he knows that he isn’t the most popular in his town, that people keep a respectful distance from him because someone so quiet must hold some kind of secret. but he also knows that he exchanges pleasant smiles with everyone he works with, that he mumbles quiet hello’s, goodbye’s and thank you’s at the farmer’s markets or when he sells bread at his bakery. still, he is an agile man, his feet can hardly dare move forward, but defiantly don’t return back.

his gaze travels back to look up at the sky, he searches the stars for some kind of answer, some kind of explanation for the little voice that plagues all his senses. he is met with the same response as any other night, the familiar rhythm of their glowing, the flickering that never ceases. finally, his gaze falls back to look up at the brightest star, his star. it radiates a light unlike all of the rest. he knows it isn’t a planet, it isn’t that large, it is just sharply bright, it calls out to him as if a light that bright could summon a noise, as if… it had a voice.

yoongi nearly stutters on his breath, his fingers curl around the blanket he still holds within them. his mouth wants to find the right words but he can’t, he’s never been good with words, how could he even try to say the right thing in a moment as confusing as this one?

“you don’t have to speak,” the voice urges, it is stronger than the last time it spoke, but still tentative and quiet, a whisper loud enough to know it wasn’t just the brush of leaves against each other or the rustle of dry grass.

“i can hear everything you think yoongi, you don’t have to speak.”

yoongi’s throat feels parched, his limbs feel heavy. so heavy he doesn’t dare try to drag them along to leave, he stays where he is, his eyes trying to search the star for some kind of answer. why was this happening to him, why was a voice suddenly in his head, was he really starting to go mad? was he drugged? was he really this lonely?

“yoongi… no, it’s me. where you’re looking, that’s me.”

it can’t be, that the voice answers all his rambling thoughts. that it starts to shine even brighter as his gaze is transfixed to it. its light flickers in a new way, faster, stronger. a warmth floods yoongi’s entire form, his veins feel surges of warm blood, his heart feels light and radiant, it’s like questions that had never crossed his mind are answered, things he’s never wondered, they are all crystal clear. he feels he could almost glow, the light flashes back, beckoning yoongi to, buzzing to the point it could almost make a noise.

“do you believe me now? i’m the star, i’m jimin.”

the air is crisp, the night sky is illuminated by the star’s light. yoongi glances around, is anyone else noticing this? this surge across the night, that the tops of trees and the tips of grass become clearer, the cottage’s roofs are nearly visible from a ways off. the star… jimin… is bringing about a light that yoongi has never seen take over darkness like this before.

“jimin?”

yoongi finally asks, the word doesn’t leave his mouth, it comes from within his head, but it is bolder than the rest of his thoughts, it stands out amongst the onslaught of his many questions and observations. when the word stands out the star flickers faster, and a stronger warmth swirls in yoongi. the feeling is profound, his body feels nearly overtaken by it.

“yes! yes it’s me yoongi! do you understand now?”

“hardly…”

“ah, well, i think everything will make sense at some point. just have patience and don’t give up on me.”

the words grow each time the voice speaks, it isn’t a whisper anymore, it calls out to yoongi in a voice resembling anyone else’s. yoongi scans the clearing once more, the sky is brighter now, there are only a few shadows of night amongst the gatherings of trees around yoongi, and no one hides behind them. no one is the owner of the voice.

yoongi looks to the sky once again, his heart feels like it is beating wrong, at a pace unlike anything he’s felt before.

“what is happening?” yoongi finally asks, the words pulsing within the confines of his mind, trying desperately to understand, so that he doesn’t feel insane, that he knows that in his isolation his mind hasn’t started to play tricks on him.

“i think you’re starting to fall in love with me, that is how my voice has become stronger, it’s loud enough to reach you now.”

yoongi pauses, his fingers tightening around the blanket, his knuckles white.

“please don’t panic. i love you back. i don’t mean to scare you, i love you so much. please look up at me.”

yoongi closes his eyes, his jaw tightening, he does his best to calm down his breathing before he finally tilts his head to look up. he doesn’t usually follow orders, but for some reason he follows these. the star, brighter than the rest, is pulsing with light, faster and sharper than it has on any previous night, it radiates a light across yoongi’s skin until he feels warm. his face must be blushing from the heat.

“i love you?” yoongi asks. he searches for anything, he searches for any answer.

“that must be how i’ve gotten my voice back. it’s so strange to hear myself, i haven’t been able to in so long. i’ve missed my voice.”

“where did it go?” yoongi feels more confident in responding, it begins to make sense. the warmth in his body makes it make sense, enough sense to speak.

“i lost it about a year ago, i was so sad to loose it that i became the dullest star in the sky, i hardly shined at all.”

“and now you’re so bright.”

“it’s only because of you, yoongi, because i found you. and it made me shine again, i knew i could hear my voice again if only you fell in love with me too.”

yoongi’s heart feels like it could break, like it could beat until it gives out. he tries to swallow his fear, tries to understand this voice’s words, jimin’s words. but yoongi has never been a believer in much, he never feared the common ghost stories or worried that his exposed feet would be snatched by the boogyman while he slept. so his gaze turns away from the star, he tries to regain his composure so he can leave this behind and sleep it off. his feet hardly turn in their tracks before the voice speaks up again.

“yoongi! please don’t leave yet! i can’t reach you through the walls and roof of your cottage. this is where i can speak most clearly to you.”

“why should i listen? why should i believe any of this? that i fell in love with a star? that a star could be a human?”

“i don’t know how to convince you. but i was a human. i was a boy, around your age, somewhere in my twenties. i got into an accident, everything became jumbled, i can hardly remember anything of what happened. but i ended up here, i’ve been up here for nearly a year. my name is jimin, or, my name was jimin.”

yoongi falls quiet. not only in sound that escapes his lips but as well the sound within his mind. it silences, fear and shock and confusion overtaking him. he can’t take all of this in, he isn’t able to look back up to the sky, to that star, if he does he fears he’d surely fall completely in love, past salvation. yoongi never thought of himself to be a hopeless romantic, and he doesn’t want to start thinking of himself as such. he is too stubborn to give in, and yet, his limbs are too stubborn to let himself leave. he curses his weak bones, his fragile limbs, how they never obey him.

“how do i prove myself to you? how do i make you believe me?” the voice is once again faint, each word becomes harder to say, and weaker in execution as yoongi’s dismissal of it only increases.

“please, just give me time. i need to go to bed, i need to think over this all. if i come back tomorrow night then you won’t have to convince me of anything.”

“and what do i do if you don’t come back?”

yoongi wants to run away, he doesn’t want to answer hypotheticals, he’s never tolerated them because they confuse him. they make him feel guilty and weak. he doesn’t want to be weak, he doesn’t want to leave this star waiting for him, and yet, he can’t wrap his mind around any of it. he’s always been a stubborn man who grew up in a stubborn town of farmers and bakers and people who never dared ask any questions. so yoongi has never been fond of asking his own.

he leaves it at that.

“just. wait for me, i need to sleep.”

yoongi finally finds the courage to move his limbs, the voice tries to call out to him within the confines of his own mind but it’s hardly syllables and never manages to become real words. they are a hum of faint sounds until they completely fade out as yoongi keeps walking away. through the thicket of trees and bushes, down his little secret path, he makes it to the edge of his town and the path continues to lead him back to his house. there is no semblance that the voice ever existed, ever penetrated into the corners of his brain.

and he wants to dismiss it at that, that he had become too sleep deprived that the wind started to play tricks on him. he wants his blanket to warm his body as the night sky had, and he’ll be able to be content with that, and never need to return to that clearing of grass where that little voice had spoken to him.

but it isn’t that simple. his thoughts are stuck in the divot of grass where he’s always sat, his heart tugs in his chest to return to it, to break past his reserves and preconceived notions of reality and believe in the voice, believe in that bright star named jimin.

when he settles into a wakeful sleep, the voice echoes in his dreams, it repeats the words it had spoken in the clearing, it calls out to yoongi, the voice so soft when saying yoongi’s name, it’s a sweet and tiny voice that curls when saying yoongi’s name. and then yoongi’s own thoughts repeat the star’s own name, jimin jimin jimin. over and over again. yoongi rolls over in his sleep, he begs the voice to leave him be, to drop it, to forget it. but it never relents. the sweet voice, of high pitch and the syllables coming out as if singing a pretty song.

yoongi hardly has a pleasant rest, when he wakes up his bones ache and his mind swims with a headache. the day is hardly brighter than when the bright star had lit up the night. his window leaks in sun, but the sun’s warmth doesn’t compete with the star’s. nothing is the same through yoongi’s eyes anymore, his mouth wants to trace the word jimin through his teeth, he wants to say the name out loud, it runs through his mind, spiraling past his control.

“what a disappointment,” a lady says to him as she waits for her loaf at yoongi’s counter. yoongi hums a response, the gesture implying her to continue, as he writes out her receipt.

“there were hardly any shooting stars last night, everyone said there’d be more,” she says. yoongi’s eyes glance up to her, scanning her face before retuning to writing out how much she owes him to the small sheet of paper.

a man has been listening to the conversation and chimes in, “yesterday’s prediction was off, it’s supposed to be tonight that they fall.”

the woman’s face perks up, “ah, well, i’ll bring the family out again to watch it.”

yoongi hands her her loaf and the receipt and she fishes through her pocket to give yoongi the proper amount of coins in return. he smiles a thank you as he receives them, slipping them into the register.

“will you come out tonight to watch?” the women probes further before leaving with her bread. yoongi is watched by the two, their eyes taking in his expression. he pauses, trying to find words.

“he never says much, don’t be offended if he doesn’t answer,” the man says, with a reassuring smile.

yoongi gives him a small smile in return, “i’ll probably go out and watch,” he finally says, his voice a rough mumble.

“great! i’ll look out for you.”

she finally leaves, what a relief, he can go back to checking on how his other loaves are rising in the oven. keeping himself busy doesn’t rid his thoughts of jimin though, the bright star, that’s voice had called out to him… and he wants to beat himself up for not understanding. he still really doesn’t understand it, not much of any of it, but his heart aches in a way he’s never been pained by before. and his mind can’t stop spiraling back to jimin. he doesn’t care if he doesn’t understand, he just wants to go back to his hidden spot, in his secluded section of grass, and find that voice again, to hear it’s soft tone, to hear it say his name.

yoongi, yoongi yoongi. he craves to hear the words, a craving stronger than any bout of hunger that’s made him crave the taste of food.

the sky finally begins to fade, the hues of sky blue turning to tinges of orange and purple as the sun finally begins to set. yoongi watches from his bakery window, finishing up his last loaves and packaging them up for final pickups. people cycle in and out of his shop, exchanging pleasantries when they receive their bread, but their voices never completely reach yoongi. he is somewhere else, transfixed on watching twilight slowly form. the stars become visible, only a scatter across the sky at first, but slowly they take over.

yoongi locks up his shop as quickly as he can when the last customer shuffles out the front door. yoongi doesn’t even bother to stop by his house before seeking out his hidden path. he’s memorized the different curves and bumps to it, he doesn’t need to look where his feet land as he scurries across the distance, his eyes are instead transfixed on finding the brightest star of the sky. it is harder than other nights, it’s not where it usually is, when he does notice one that is a little brighter than the rest, he realizes that it must be his star.

he settles into his cleared out patch of grass, he tries to seek out the warmth that usually floods his body when transfixed on the sky. only the slightest tinge of heat grows within him, he can’t tell if its from shuffling so quickly over to the clearing that he’s warm from exercise, or if its the familiar warmth of the star.

“jimin? is that you? you’re hardly brighter than the rest…” yoongi finally says, managing to push aside all his previous reserves, his fears, trying his best to believe in all of this, believe in the star that hardly shines.

there’s a long pause of silence, not even a wind picks up, it’s a particularly quiet night besides the mumbles from other families that have gathered once again for the falling stars.

“… yoongi? you came back…?”

yoongi’s heart soars, much stronger than anything he’s felt before, he sways with the motion, the familiar warmth suddenly floods his senses, overtaking him.

“didn’t i say i’d come back? i like to keep my promises.”

“i wasn’t sure, i was scared you didn’t believe me,” the voice increases in strength, yoongi can clearly hear how this specific voice forms its words, the tone at which they speak. it is a beautiful tone, every syllable comes out like a hum, like the beginning to a melody.

“i don’t know what i believe right now, i have no clue what you are, how you speak to me, but i know i feel the warmth you give off, i feel it when it coils in my stomach, and i guess i can believe in that.”

the star’s light flickers, brighter and brighter, until it once again floods the night and illuminates yoongi’s soft skin. he stares up at it, trying to find an answer within the silence, trying to seek out why he feels this way for the sky, for a star of all things.

“i know it’s hard to take in,” the voice laughs, “it’s still hard for me to understand, but i know enough i can try to explain it if you’d like me to.”

the voice is so sweet, it is of such a soft pitch, yoongi can hardly resist it any longer, he can’t force himself to not believe in it, he can’t bring himself to stand up and leave.

“ok, you can tell me,” yoongi finally answers. the star twinkles again, a faster and sharper light than any kind of star yoongi has seen before.

“i’m your soulmate, but i got into an accident. when one dies before meeting their soulmate they’re sent up to the sky and become a star. i spent months looking everywhere trying to find you, and i finally did, a few months back. you give off a small light, it was hard to find it, but when you found this clearing of grass and started to come to it to look up at the sky, your brightness became brighter and brighter, much brighter amongst the rest. you shine like i do, like a star on earth.”

yoongi’s breath hitches, he can hardly keep breathing, but his mind is quiet, waiting for the star to continue. clearing out any ramblings of his mind to give every opportunity for the star’s voice to be clearer and stronger within him.

“but i wasn’t able to speak until you began to fall in love with me, you fell in love with the sky and you returned my warmth, you let me shine brighter and brighter each day. and i was finally able to find my voice yesterday when you completely fell in love.”

“i fell in love?”

“i think so. i hope so. how else would i have gained my voice back? i think that’s how it works, a star’s voice returns to them when their soulmate falls in love with them.”

yoongi feels his heart stutter, his fingers curl around the blades of grass around him, he tries to grab onto reality, some shred of what it’s like to feel something real against his touch, something he can grasp.

“will i ever get to see you?”

there is a moment of hesitation, the brightness fading for a split second, and yoongi’s heart jumps in fear that the voice wouldn’t return to him again. up until this moment he hadn’t really longed for the star, didn’t feel a serge of pain when the voice wasn’t speaking up. sure, he had drove himself into a tizzy in pondering over the idea of jimin, the idea of the other’s voice within his mind. but he hadn’t missed it, he had puzzled over it. now, as his question lingers in the air, his words left echoing within his head, and the star’s response delays, he realizes how much he craves the star’s little voice. the way the star’s voice is kind, and its pitch is so innocent.

“…yoongi.”

it’s tearing him apart, yoongi is too weak for this, too easily pained by another’s attention that it destroys him.

“yes?”

“i could come down… and i could meet you there. but if i do, i’ll only have a few hours before the sun rises. and when it would, i’d have to go back, and i’d never be able to travel back to earth again.”

“will you not be a star anymore?”

“i will, i’ll still be able to watch over you as a star.”

yoongi wants to cry. he’d always known that others had found their soulmates, he knew it was real and never speculated it, but he always figured he’d live his life alone and probably never find his. he never put in the effort to meet people, to exchange pleasantries and find out if they were ‘the one.’ and now that he’s found his soulmate, and his soulmate is stuck up in the sky, he realizes how foolish he’d been. why had he so easily accepted his fate before? why had he been so okay to live alone the rest of his life? the thought of it now, of going back to his empty house filled with silence, never to be filled with his soulmate’s sweet voice, it irks him, it makes his stomach drop at the thought. he wants to pound his fists into the rough ground until he bleeds at the knuckles, he wants to curse the solar system, he wants to curse his pessimistic mind. even if he’s never met jimin before, he mourns the other’s death, he mourns how he’d never thought to really care, how he never bothered to seek the other out. how close had jimin been? how many times had their paths crossed? he never paid notice, how had he been so crue? all while his soulmate could only silently watch from above and hope he’d one day find this patch of clearing, and one day fall in love with the sky. yoongi’s stomach feels sick. how could he have been so blind to love? so dismissive of the idea that he too had a soulmate out there, as everyone else does, and he ignored it just because he was scared.

“stop. yoongi, please stop. don’t think those things of yourself, i forgive you, i was never mad at you.”

“how could you not be mad at me? my thoughts were cruel and insensitive to you. i never thought i’d find my soulmate, meanwhile you heard me think those things the entire time.”

“how could you have known? my shine was so weak you could hardly distinguish me even if you looked to exactly where i was, if you had your eyes squinted directly at me i was still dim.”

yoongi wants to collapse, to let the grass grow up around his body and slowly hide him from the world. he feels a tear form in his eye and he blinks it away before letting it slip down his cheek.

“i could’ve found you earlier, i could have found this clearing earlier and spent more time looking up instead of down. for fucks sake! i could’ve tried to find you before you went up there in the first place! before you became a fucking star up in space!”

“stop yoongi. you’ve found me now, you’ve given me back my voice. you don’t owe me anything, i was never mad at you.”

yoongi bites his lip, trying his best to fight back the onslaught of his tears but as they swell within him he’s no match. they begin to fall from his eyes quickly as his body shakes with the force. they make his cheeks wet and he does his best to wipe them away but it’s no use, there are too many too fast to keep track of.

“yoongi, your light is fading, stop crying, please, it’s okay.”

but yoongi can’t help himself, he can’t keep it back. the tears are rough and shake him to his core. when was the last time he cried? it must have more than a year ago. he usually does his best at keeping them in, remaining strong and impervious to the common sadness of day to day life. but now it all emerges from him, heavy and painful and unforgiving.

suddenly a burst of noise erupts, the family a ways down through the weave of forrest at the other side of the field, they shout and woo as they watch a falling star. the star trails across the sky, bright, fast, but yoongi can hardly watch it as his tears blind his vision. everything blurs and he shuts his eyes, it’s all too much at once. finally the crowd quiets, the star must’ve gone out of few from them, blocked by the thick horizon of forrest. yoongi doesn’t bother to watch, his sobs continue and his skin feels cold from the tears.

a finger brushes across his face, swiping away a droplet. yoongi at first thinks it’s a warm wind that’s gone through the clearing. but then there’s a second touch on his skin. he gulps, his eyes slowly fluttering open. and at first all he can see is a bright light, it’s hard to process and he blinks a few more times, trying to clear the haze of tears from blocking his vision. it’s still bright, like waking up from a dream and your eyes can’t process the harsh daylight yet.

“yoongi.”

it’s the voice. the voice of an angel. of his soulmate. but it’s much closer to him now, much clearer, it doesn’t come from the haze within his mind like a faint thought. it’s next to his ear, and a breath follows it. he can feel the breath brush across his skin, brush through his hair, it’s warm, it smells of flowers.

“yoongi,” the voice repeats, “it’s me.”

yoongi’s eyes are still weak but he manages to pry them open once again. his tears lull, stopping from their assault on his sensitive eyes. the light is still there, but it’s less bright, it’s less harsh. had his eyes adjusted? or had the light faded? finally he can make out a figure that sits close to him, the outline of a face, the outline of a body that hunches as it studies yoongi’s face. yoongi doesn’t want to believe it, the boy that sits beside him, he doesn’t want this to be real.

“you… you came down?”

“yes,” the boy answers. his skin is bright, as if a ball of light is within him and bursting out each of his pores. his entire essence glows, his hair nearly floating with the light, his body moving softly as if still floating in the sky.

“you used your one trip to earth…”

“i couldn’t stop myself. i’ve never seen you cry before. i couldn’t take just watching, you couldn’t hear my calls to you through your tears. you became so sad your light began to fade, and i slowly lost my voice.”

“why did you do this? i can’t forgive myself for this…”

“stop. i wanted to. you’re my soulmate. i couldn’t let myself just sit there and watch you cry.”

yoongi’s body feels sore all over, he feels like at any moment his heart could stop beating or his limbs could give out on holding his body up.

“jimin?”

the name makes sense now. before it had been hard, to put a name to a star while a star is so far away only a bright light. it hadn’t made sense. but now his soulmate sits beside him, his skin like an orb of light, his presence already filling yoongi with a stronger warmth than he’s ever felt before. before the warmth that had overtaken his form had come down from the sky, it had felt like a distant touch, a heat from a fire a ways off. but now the heat coils into his every nerve, every fiber of his being, until he feels like he could levitate, like he could sore through the night sky like an ember still pulsing from a flame.

“yes, it’s me.”

yoongi can’t help himself. he reaches out and pulls jimin into a tight embrace. it feels so new, so strange, so unfamiliar and yet so welcomed. the other’s body is soft and malleable to him, quickly giving in to the embrace and grabbing at yoongi’s clothing as tightly as he can manage.

“i’m not very strong,” jimin whispers into the crook of yoongi’s neck. his breath pulses against yoongi’s skin. “i’m mostly made of light, i’m hardly like i used to be.”

“it’s okay. i won’t hold you too tightly.”

jimin presses a soft, brief kiss to yoongi’s neck, his lips are so soft they hardly feel like much of anything, but the touch still sets yoongi alight.

“i just can’t believe this… you didn’t use your last trip to earth to visit your friends, your parents?” yoongi asks, desperation in his voice, his grip on jimin becoming tighter as they hug.

jimin pulls away, his own cheeks now wet from a few tears. yoongi hadn’t even noticed the other had begun to cry and he uses his shirt’s sleeve to wipe at jimin’s glowing skin.

“my parents died in the accident. you’re all i have left, yoongi. you’re plenty worth my trip.”

yoongi wants to fold into himself, he wants to curse the sky that he ever thought something negative, that he ever took anything for granted, that he ever plagued jimin’s mind with his pointless little mumblings. he can only reach out to jimin and hold him as his apology, his fingers digging into the soft white fabric that’s draped around jimin’s form. this all hurts him too much, to see his soulmate in pain, to see how his soulmate is barely made of skin or cloth, mostly resembling a shining light that’s hardly tangible for his fingers to grab.

“jimin, i—”

“don’t yoongi. i’m just grateful i can hold you this once. it’s enough for me. i’ve missed the feeling of holding someone.”

yoongi’s tears swell in his eyes again and he can’t help but burst.

“shh, shh, please calm down yoongi.”

“you shouldn’t be the one comforting me! me of all people. i should be comforting you.”

jimin’s face is still stained from the tears that trailed down his face, but his eyes are forgiving, they’re kind and gentle and they take in yoongi with a familiarity that makes yoongi’s heart cave in.

“come here, lay down with me.”

jimin’s embrace is warm, it burns past clothing between them, it makes yoongi feel like cold has never touched him, like rainwater has never soaked him. all he’s ever known is this warmth that all of a sudden covers him. this must be what a soulmate’s touch feels like, this must be why everyone’s parents are always so happy together. why couples stargaze together. yoongi lets jimin pull him down into the grass. their bodies are a tangle as they look up to the sky. yoongi’s crying slowly hushes until it’s completely gone, jimin cooing sweet nothings into his ear.

“look up, at all those stars, they’re all soulmates who’ve gone up to the sky together.”

yoongi wants to cry more but he lets himself calm down within jimin’s hold. jimin’s voice is too soft to drown out with crying. yoongi has heard this all before, but it sounds new when it comes from jimin’s voice.

“aren’t they so beautiful? they shine so brightly because they’re together.”

“then what are falling stars?” yoongi mumbles into jimin’s skin.

yoongi just pulls jimin tighter, trying to memorize the feeling of the boy, the way the other fits against his frame so perfectly. he feels himself become tired in the late hours of night, his eyes overused and his body giving in to its tiredness as it relaxes.

“do you want to know what i used to do on earth?” jimin asks into the silence. yoongi hums his answer.

“i used to sing yoongi. i used to sing all the time.”

“you did?”

“that’s why i was so dim when i lost my voice. i couldn’t even sing to myself anymore when i was sad and so alone up there.”

yoongi brushes his fingers through jimin’s hair, he lets jimin’s head relax on his shoulder.

“you can sing now, if you want to, i’d like to hear.”

jimin wants to cry again. but he takes in a deep breath, and lets out a faint hum, a melody forming from his lips. it’s a song yoongi has never heard before, but he enjoys it, maybe not for specifically the melody—though it is a pleasant one—but mostly to hear jimin’s voice. it’s light in its pitch, gentle but able to reach high notes without hesitation. the noise fades into the night, from his soulmate’s lips to the sky above.

jimin kisses yoongi’s cheek when he finishes the song, he feels how yoongi becomes more and more relaxed.

“i’ve missed that so much.”

“what song was that?”

jimin laughs, “i wrote it. a long time ago. but i never dared forget it.”

“it was beautiful.”

yoongi drifts into sleep. this is the first time in nearly a year that jimin has slept during the night, he’s missed how nice it is to close his eyes while it’s dark out, while everything is much quieter. he doesn’t fight his tiredness as he was kept awake all day worrying if yoongi would return to him. so sleep comes about easily and quickly. their breathing is slow and mingles together, it’s a soft melody that’s always belonged.

the first hint of light is what awakes jimin. his eyes flutter open and he instantly flinches as the sun threatens to peek from the horizon. the jolt of his body awakes yoongi as well, and yoongi at first doesn’t realize what’s going on as he’s used to awaking with the warmth of sun greeting his bleary mind. but jimin’s stiffness in fear alerts yoongi and he slowly turns his head to see the sun begin to rise.

“shit.”

jimin pulls yoongi up, his fingers desperately grabbing at yoongi’s hair, his skin, his clothes. yoongi wants to cry again but he’s ran out of tears. jimin’s fingers grab him and pull him close, their bodies locking together.

“i don’t want to go, not yet,” jimin whispers, his voice breaking. his voice is still so faint, and it becomes fainter as they’re both filled with fear, jimin’s light begins to fade.

“don’t. please don’t go.”

but there’s no use, a tug pulls at jimin’s body, his feet slightly raising from the ground before being set back down.

“what’s happening to me?” jimin nearly whales, his face contorted with his fear and sadness. he reaches out to hold yoongi’s hands, to memorize yoongi’s face so up close, the details of the other, the way his lips are thin and soft, and he realizes he never kissed them.

“i don’t want you to go,” yoongi says again, he wants to repeat the words over and over as it becomes his internal mantra. but as the words escape him, he feels like his voice is stifled, feeling if he dared speak his throat would crack in its dryness. he tries to wrap his entire body around jimin’s but the force that tugs at his soulmate is too strong, it tugs at jimin, pulling him higher into the air and once again dropping him and he collapses into the grass. yoongi cradles the other, trying his best to break the fall but knowing his weak lips don’t offer much support. his tears prick at his eyes but they’re too dry too many at once to fall.

“i have to,” jimin finally gives in, his words sad but knowing. he’s tugged once more by the cloth that’s draped around him, it’s a light, airy material that his glowing limbs are entangled within.

he’s dropped yet again, into yoongi’s hold. yoongi’s heart feels like it might break, he can’t keep this up, watching jimin get pulled upwards and then thrown back down to earth. he wishes he was strong enough to hold him, to keep him here, to not let his body he thrown about so carelessly.

“i can’t go on without seeing you, it’s not enough, i need you.”

“i can’t let that happen,” jimin says, his voice is strained.

“you said your voice becomes stronger if i love you. i love you so much, why isn’t your voice soaring?”

jimin hides his face, his small body curling in on itself, hiding from yoongi’s gaze, he’s crumpled into the grass.

“there’s a lot i haven’t told you.”

“jimin, tell me now, before you go, please.”

jimin wants to speak but his voice aches and can hardly manage a syllable. “once, you, go, to, earth, you, lose, your, voice, forever.”

yoongi wants to sob, he would if he had more time, if this moment wasn’t so short, he’d sob for hours if he didn’t have just these last fleeting seconds to speak to jimin.

“why did you lie? when you go back to the stars you’ll be able to watch me and hear my thoughts but i can’t even speak to you at night? i can’t see you or even hear you? no matter how much i love you?”

yoongi tries not to sound mad but his entire being feels betrayed, his stomach is sick. jimin hovers into the air again and collapses back into yoongi’s grasp.

“i didn’t want to hurt you, i wanted to be with you and not have you mad at me for coming to earth,” it takes every muscle in jimin’s weak form to manage the words. they’re slow and hardly sound like him, gravely and strained and hardly breaking past a whisper. yoongi can see how much it pains jimin to get the words out, how his throat must be bleeding.

“is there any other way? can i come with you?”

jimin halts, his hesitation is just long enough to give yoongi an inkling that he’s hiding even more from him. yoongi’s face breaks into a contorted expression, that of a deep desperation. his fingers grab onto jimin’s clothing, he tries to scan the other’s expression for any more information. without another pause, he leans forward and lightly kisses jimin. his lips are hardly there, but they’re warm, and meet yoongi’s kiss softly. it’s too brief, it’s not enough, but yoongi has to pull away. They linger close to each other, their eyes both trying to take in the other’s.

��tell me jimin, please.”

just then jimin is pulled the farthest yet, the sun begins to rise faster than yoongi has ever seen a sun rise before. the light starts to flood over their skin and heat up the morning air. jimin cries out in a choked voice as he hovers taller than the trees, and then quickly gravity takes effect and he falls into a roll. yoongi quickly holds him, scattering kisses across his cheeks and ears and neck and collarbones. it’s frantic, to make up for all the words he wants to say to ease jimin’s pain.

“tell me,” he repeats quietly against the others skin before pulling his lips away. and finally jimin is weak enough to give in to the other’s request.

“you can choose to come with me, right now, but only now. the tug can take you with me to become stars together, but if you don’t come you’ll only become a star once you die.”

jimin wants to cry, but he’s too weak even for that. yoongi is silent for a moment before he begins furiously nodding.

“i’ll go with you.”

“don’t say that yoongi! you can stay here, with your bakery, with your people, sleep in your bed every night, find another love. you can marry, you can have children, and i’ll wait for you and you can join me up there someday.”

yoongi shakes his head, he doesn’t give himself a moment to think because he doesn’t need it. their moments are limited, and he already knows his answer.

“i’m coming with you.”

“yoongi—”

“i don’t like the townspeople, i don’t like my damp house that’s covered with mold. i don’t need to have children with some wife i marry. and most importantly, i wouldn’t be able to live each day knowing i took away your voice, knowing that you couldn’t sing.”

jimin stutters trying to find a noise to escape his mouth but he’s not able to speak anymore. he tries but all that comes out is a faint grown from the back of his throat. his skin seems to dematerialize, to break apart until there’s only light left, only a bright light that begins to hover and float away, slowly but surely.

“let me come with you!” yoongi calls up, his hand outstretching. he’s able to grab onto jimin’s hand, what’s left of his hand anyway, and he feels his body begin to hover as the other pull him up. the unity of their hands lets jimin’s voice speak within the walls of yoongi’s mind, like the night that feels so long ago when yoongi first heard jimin’s voice echo.

“do you really want this? you only have a few seconds to let go…”

yoongi doesn’t need to speak out loud, he thinks the words that are meant for jimin more prominently than the rest of his thoughts, he knows jimin can understand them.

“i want this, us, i know now that you’re all i’ve ever needed. i know this is what i want.”

he can feel jimin’s heart sore in response, their unity connects the feeling to him, a heat returning to his body that surges. he knows jimin is smiling, somewhere past that bright light, he can see jimin’s eyes turn to crescents.

they begin to raise into the sky. the feeling is exhilarating and yoongi isn’t scared. this is probably the least scared he’s ever been of anything. he isn’t scared as his own skin turns into pure light, as his hand that holds onto jimin’s becomes melded in their unity. his clothes fall to the ground, all that’s left of him is the energy that pours from within his frame, illuminating the early morning.

as yoongi is raised farther into the sky, he can look over his town for the first time from this high of a height. he can see the tops of the shops, of his bakery, of his house, and further on the other little houses with people emerging to prepare their breakfast, or scuttle off to work or school. parents hold their children’s hands, they walk over the little winding paths within the town’s walls. it’s a sight that makes him nostalgic, but he can’t help the joy that floods his heart. in jimin’s hold, as they become no resemblance of human form but rather sparkling and flickering light, yoongi knows this is what he’s always really wanted. to hold his soulmate’s hand, to feel the warmth as their fingers entangle to become one, they hardly need words any longer, but yoongi doesn’t mind when jimin speaks, because it’s the prettiest voice he’s ever heard.

“it looks a lot more beautiful to me when there’s someone to share the view with,” jimin mumbles within yoongi’s head. his voice is so sweet, it’s so gentle, it has become calm as he gives in to being part of the sky once again.

the journey up to the sky takes most of the day, when they finally break through the atmosphere and mingle in space it turns to night across yoongi’s town. it’s a faint light from candles that he can see the outline of his town’s buildings and the people bustling home from work and the flames of fires heating their hands. yoongi and jimin’s hands are locked together across the distance of space, the darkness that surrounds them is illuminated by the light that they give off. yoongi looks around to see all of the others, all the other couples who shine together, the semblance of their hands outstretched to hold on to each other.

“has anyone seen yoongi?” a townsperson asks as they stand outside his locked up shop, no light emanating from within the building amongst the dim of twilight.

“must’ve up and left town,” another says. “there’s a new bakery that opened up just down the road, we could see if they’re still open.”

“ah, yes, i suppose. it’s a shame though, he was the best baker in town.”

as they turn away from his shop they don’t glance up to the sky that fades into night. they don’t see the two brightest stars in the sky, already shining amidst the last remnants of sunset. the two people seek out the other bakery, walking farther without a glance upwards, they don’t see the two stars connected with a string of light, that flicker in rhythm with each other as jimin sings across all of space.

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liveandloveandlearn · 4 years

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The joy of Bach and permission to be

Getting far enough into a Bach piece has been profoundly satisfying, the kind of satisfaction I don’t feel very often. Made me wonder why I haven’t played Bach, and played the piano enough in general. Well that’s not such a great question. Time, energy, emotional state, obligations, social media, people, etc, you know, obvious enough. The good question would be whether I would keep on going, even when life gets busier, aka, after I willfully exit my state of extreme privilege and get back to work. And to that I say yes, yes I hope so.

Oh why haven't I played Bach? I did play a forgettable piece in college - something in D major. Historically hopeless, romantic, melancholy melodies tend to appeal to me more quickly and naturally than a happy finger exercise, which was my general impression of Bach:)). Sorry sir. My piano professor assigned this something in D major to me before I had the chance to internalize the fun of Bach. So it was just an assignment to get through, nothing memorable. What an ignorant little hypocrite I was:))

Anyway.

I’ve been home for 6 months. Not too long ago, the idea of not working for 6 months was almost unthinkable, even edging on unacceptable to me. How could you not be a productive member of society? How could you not be contributing financially to your family? How could you be a bum? How could you even explain this to potential employers? The greatest gift has been to slowly over time shed these couple layers of fear-induced judgements & biases, which doesn’t just influence how I view my career, but also my overall being. Here’s what I’ve gathered & distilled:

- When I have sharp responses to real, relevant, job-specific problems on interviews, the question of my employment gap didn’t even come up. Or when it kinda came up, it didn’t even matter. It only mattered and felt like a thing weeks ago when I viewed it as a scarlet letter myself.

- Agonizing over a job search doesn’t mean caring more. It just means more stress, and potentially more complaining for my close friends and families to suffer with me. Sometimes it’s hard to avoid cuz human, but it’s definitely nothing to glorify and not essential to a job search.

- This idea of holding down a job as a must to be viewed as a respectable adult at any given moment is narrowed and outdated. Maybe it was truer for previous generations, but the world is very different now. Don’t get me wrong, being self-sufficient and productive is important and respectable. But in the world we have today, being able to NOT spiral into deep dark depression, loneliness, nihilism, addiction, violence, suicide, etc takes conscious and valiant effort as well. Taking a break and re-centering is one very effective antidote to the invisible chaos in our world, if you can afford to of course.

- Not job related but on the same note, I am finally cool with who I am, my likes and dislikes, who I vibe with and not, what I would and wouldn’t want to do. For a long time, in Jordan Peterson’s words, I was a tyrant to myself, commanding myself to do, be, appear whatever it is that I’ve been conditioned to believe as “right”. Well the process of following what I think is right wouldn’t change, but I’ve learnt that it’s right to stop being a tyrant, especially when much of that tyrant was made from biases. My true self is pretty smart, pure, and freaking stubborn. It’s not gonna be tricked, manipulated, pumped up, put down, or coerced into doing something that doesn’t line up with what it is. My tyrant self has tried. Good try, but no:))

On a closing note I really hope i don’t have covid:)))

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stephhannes · 4 years

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new year, who dis

what would be the use in becoming a symbol of walking desolation? awash in multiple griefs, elaborating on anguish. even if i never get to see you again, i’ll know that when we collided we both broke each other open.

-mount eerie, love without possession

i guess it’s been four months since i’ve sat down to write an actual blog. i figured i should at least try to get something out before the new year.

i’ve tried to write an update a few times over the last couple of months, but every time i tried to write something, it’s just aggressively sad. like that one st. vincent lyric— i try to write you a love song, but it comes out a lament. and while an aggressively sad tone is appropriate to how i’ve been feeling, i’ve been trying to bring less sad energy to the table. (a surprise to everyone, because sad energy is my entire brand).

I planned to get this blog up by january 1st. and then i kept putting it off. hence why this starts off saying things like, “i guess it’s been four months,” and “i figured i should at least try to get something out before the new year.” today is february 4th, which means it’s officially been a year and a half since nathan died.

in the last few weeks, i’ve been under a lot of stress. i’m juggling three jobs right now, and somehow still don’t make enough money to survive. i’m sure that at this point, i’ve described to you my bona-fide money saving technique. it’s called “i only eat three days a week because it’s too expensive to feed myself every day,” sometimes, i get lucky, and get the scraps from events at work, and that’s literally like the one (1) thing i look forward to.

i’m still out here searching for a salary (and health insurance) and hopefully, by my birthday, i’ll have that. but we’ll see, the job search has been uhhh…..abysmal to say the least.

anyways, in the midst of being stressed, i’ve realized that i really don’t think about nathan all the time like i used to. sometimes i’ll go like two days before i’m reminded of him. the other day, i was like “am i a bad person because of this?” and like, logically, i know that it’s totally normal, but on the other hand, i can’t help but feel guilty because of it sometimes. i feel a sense of responsibility to exist as a reminder of “hey, this person existed, and they mattered,” and while i realize that’s a huge weight to put onto myself, i feel like if i don’t, then who will?

last night, i was reading house of leaves (which, despite owning a copy since high school, i’ve actually never read it before) and i found nathan’s bookmark (a ticket from a baseball game he went to right after he moved to new york) in it, from when i let him take a few of my books when he moved to nyc. i got weirdly emotional and was like “wow what a fun coincidence to find this item of nathan’s that i’ve never seen before in my life on the 1.5 year anniversary of him dying.” i’m not saying i’m superstitious, but maybe i am a little stitious.

+++

since the last time i wrote a blog, i’ve kept notes on my phone every time something happens that i feel holds some sort of importance- so here’s what’s been in my notes since august 4th.

august 24, 2019. 4:17am

when i went into work on august 5th, a coworker of mine asked how i was doing. i was doing alright. the anniversary of nathan’s death really didn’t hit me too hard. i assumed i would have a huge nervous breakdown, and i didn’t.

then my coworker, who’d also lost a partner, told me, “i hate to sound negative and be the one to tell you this but the second year is a lot harder than the first.”

that’s what i’d been reading online for months, but to hear someone say it to my face i was just like… oh shit.

and so far, the second year has been harder.

i’ve officially been out on my own for a month now.

the best part about having depression is that no matter where you are, you still have depression. i don’t know why i was expecting moving to just alleviate all of my sadness when i know that i’ll always find a way to be miserable wherever i am.

it’s nice to be out of abilene and at least have the option of opportunity, but i basically just spend all of my free time asleep or crying.

as the ancient oracle, britney spears, once said- “my loneliness is killing me.”

now that i’ve started getting into a routine, i’m starting to feel that hole in my life again.

i’m on the same schedule that i was when i lived in new york, almost.

when we lived in new york, i would leave for work around 4, i’d get home around 11:30, and then nathan and i would hang out until around 4am, and then go to bed. the next day, he’d usually wake me up at a normal time, (or at least 2 hours before i had to be at work).

and now i have to leave for work around 4:30, i get home around 11, and when i come home i’m just alone. and i lay in bed until i’m finally exhausted enough to fall asleep, usually around 5am. and then i wake up ten minutes before i have to go to work.

i have been feeling this deep, existential sadness for awhile now. every night, i lay in bed and think about all of the conversations i wish i could revisit with nathan. all of the things i wish i’d said. i relive all of my favorite moments of ours. i am still so desperate to feel close to him again.

i cannot remember a time in my life when i was excited to wake up. i cannot remember a time when i looked forward to my future. in fact, when i think about my mental health as a child, the only thing i remember is one time when i was 12, my dad bought me tickets to see my favorite band. i was obviously so incredibly excited, and expressed the human emotion of joy, and my mother accused me of being on drugs because she’d “never seen me act like that before.” it was so surprising to her to see me happy that she literally thought i was on drugs.

i’ve been like this for as long as i can remember, except for the two years that nathan and i were together. i was still so depressed when we lived together, but for the first time, i was looking forward to the future. for the first time, dealing with my depression seemed worth it. for the first time, putting effort into getting better made sense.

for the first time in my life, i didn’t feel alone.

and it took a lot of effort on nathan’s part to make sure that i didn’t feel alone. the loneliness i’ve always felt is like a self-fulfilling prophecy. i actively choose to retreat from friendships and relationships. i stop responding to texts. i hide away and cancel plans. it’s my fault that i feel isolated- because i isolate myself. and nathan refused to let me do that. when i get stressed, i internalize everything and take it all on my own- and nathan would recognize when i was doing that and beg me to let him help. and i wouldn’t let him help. but he would still do it, because he knew what i needed without me asking and would just quietly provide it for me so that i wouldn’t lose my mind. and a lot of the time the help was just him actively sitting me down and reminding me that i’m in fact, not alone. i’ll never forget when i was so stressed after moving to new york because i was so poor, and nathan telling me that “it’ll be okay. we’ll figure it out.” i never asked him for money, or for help, because i have too much pride for that. but even when i was working, i was struggling to make ends meet for myself, and he would sneakily do things like go to the grocery store and be like “oh hey, i was at the store today and just picked up some chicken for you so you don’t have to go yourself.” there were a few times when i asked him to pick up something from the halal cart for me because i didn’t want to get out of bed and i’d be like “there’s cash in my wallet just grab it” but instead of taking the money from my wallet, he’d just get the food for me, and put the change he had leftover in my wallet for me to have.

but even past that, just emotionally, he’d always reassure me that i wasn’t alone. as soon as he started to sense me doing the thing where i try to isolate myself, he’d just cling to me even harder.

here’s the thing: i’m too tired to fight for myself, and i don’t have anyone that’ll fight for me the way that nathan did.

august 29th, 2019. 5:32pm

so here’s the tea: i went on a date for the first time since nathan died. i went out last night, got drunk, got on bumble and agreed to go on a date this morning. so yeah, i was aggressively hungover, which is maybe not the best version of me for someone to meet- but it’s the version i brought to the table nonetheless. and like, it was fine. well, up until the point he was trying to relate to me and my career in theatre and told me that his favorite musical is CATS. his favorite cat is the rum tum tugger, and he can’t wait to see the movie in december.

it’s not going to work out. CATS is an abomination and i refuse to spend time with anyone who disagrees with that statement.

on a more serious note: i realized that i definitely don’t have the emotional capacity to date. i just can’t bring myself to care about anything anyone has to tell me about themselves. you have two sisters, your parents divorced when you were 8 and and you love CATS? zzzzz….sorry, that was me blacking out for 7 minutes.

y’know, i’m unsure about a lot of things in my life. like, don’t try to ask me what i want for dinner because i refuse to make a decision about anything. don’t ask me what my favorite movie is, or my favorite book. i have no idea, dude, sorry. BUT the one thing i have incredible clarity about is what i deserve in a relationship. i had impossibly high standards before nathan and i were together and now they’re even higher- but that’s fine when you don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with scrubs to begin with.

the other day, i found my journal that i kept in college. it starts in august of 2015, with the eulogy i wrote for my dad’s funeral. an excerpt: “despite me acting like an awful teen at times, he always was on my side. i think that’s what i’ll miss the most. i’ll miss having someone who had my back 100%. i’ll miss having someone who was always making sure i was happy…” and after reading that, i realized why my relationship with nathan was so successful. i’ve always heard that “girls always end up marrying someone like their dad” thing, and for the most part always chalked it up to weird patriarchal bullshit, but maybe there’s a little truth in it. because i definitely see some of my favorite things about my dad reflected in my favorite things about nathan.

september 30, 2019. 1:09am

sometimes the saddest things must be sung.

every time i try to write, it’s impossible to say anything that’s not just “i’m sad.” i haven’t been feeling great lately. i just feel trapped in this infinite loop of sadness and it’s so exhausting. i don’t like being like this. nathan would always get so frustrated with me when my depression was really bad, and i’d always be like do you think this is fun for me??? do you think i like being like this??? do you think i wake up and want to be a goblin??? newsflash my dude, i don’t.

here’s the thing: when nathan first died, i was sad all the time. but it made sense. i had a reason to be sad all of the time.

but i’m still sad all of the time. i wake up, i’m sad for 10 hours and then i go to bed. and then i wake up, maybe go to work, come home and be sad until bedtime. it’s a constant loop of sadness and i am so tired.

nothing i do fulfills me. nothing satisfies me. i have neither purpose nor direction. i’m tired. and i’m sad.

october 2nd, 2019. 7:34pm

i went to urgent care today- turns out i don’t have depression, i just have a torn ligament in my ankle.

for context: i fell down the stairs at work the other day, crunched my ankle like it was an empty ozarka water bottle, and just wrecked my shit. i think this injury has me sadness spiraling a lot more than i normally do. now i get why nathan used to get so depressed whenever he’d injure himself.

the first time i got really sick after nathan died, i was so sad. this is my first ever really bad physical injury- i’ve never broken a bone or torn anything before, and i’m really feeling the loss of nathan right now. like how am i supposed to feed myself when i can barely walk to the kitchen? who’s supposed to remind me to take my ibuprofen every few hours?

senior year of college, i kept getting strep, and the only reason i didn’t die is because every 12 hours nathan would call me to make sure i took my antibiotics, even when i had to take them at 2am. i only have two voicemails from him saved on my phone and literally one of them is from 3am and he’s like “hello wake up, your penicillin is calling, i’m gonna keep calling you until you wake up.”

even though spraining my ankle was a nightmare, it could’ve been worse. just think, if i was a framing device in an emily bronte novel, i would have just had to live at work for five weeks until it healed.

october 11th, 2019. 5:37pm

i haven’t been sleeping lately, and last night i fell asleep around 6am. the cold front had just blown in and it was raining and i finally fell asleep. before i went to bed, i cracked my windows open for the first time this year and when i woke up this morning it was chilly in my room. i woke up in a little cocoon of all of my blankets and pillows and for a moment, before i completely opened my eyes, it felt like i was back in new york, waking up with nathan on a fall wednesday morning. it’s the little things.

october 25th, 2019. 2:19am

i keep thinking about all the things that have returned to me. all of the things that i gave to nathan that are back in my possession, tucked away in my room. like the grey ut shirt that was 3 sizes too big for me- so i gave it to him as a christmas present our first year together. he had been in new york for a semester, and he surprised me by coming to austin for new year’s- we hadn’t talked about christmas gifts or anything, but we ended up giving each other almost the exact same gift. he had gotten me a columbia sweater, and he slept in it for a few days before giving it to me, so it smelled like him. i did the exact same thing with that grey shirt. we couldn’t stop laughing when we exchanged the gifts because we were so amused that we’d gotten the same thing for each other.

after he died, that shirt was one of the few that i kept of his, he slept in it all the time when we lived together. it still smells like him.

i don’t wear my rings anymore, but when i see them in the bottom of my jewelry box, i think about the day that i gave him the engagement ring. he was so afraid of me saying no if he were to propose to me, so i told him that when i knew i’d say yes- i’d give him the ring i wanted him to use. on our first anniversary, i was visiting him in new york, right before i flew back to texas, i left a letter on his desk, with the ring attached. it returned to me a year after that, on our second anniversary when he proposed.

the day after nathan died, i went through all of his stuff. mostly because i knew i was about to fly back to texas and i didn’t know when i’d return to our apartment, so i wanted to collect all of his important documents that i didn’t want to lose. social security card, IDs, cards, passport, etc. but when i was digging through his backpack, i found a folder, where he’d kept all of the letters and cards i’d given to him throughout the years.

my personal favorite was an envelope that had two things in it: a sample size of the perfume that i’ve always worn, and a letter that just said “for when you miss me.” i gave that to him before we were even together. it was during that weird ambiguous era of our relationship where we were too afraid to commit, but were definitely in too deep to not commit. every time i would leave his apartment, he’d comment on how his pillows smelled like me, and how he missed me- right after he made his decision to go to columbia, we assumed we would never see each other again, so i gave him that letter.

i was surprised to see all of those letters because that meant that he moved them from his apartment in abilene, to new york, to our apartment in new york, back to texas, and then to philly.

so in turn, i moved them from philly, back to abilene, and now they’re with me in a box in austin.

and i hope that one day all of the love that i gave to nathan will return to me.

november 4th, 2019. 12:31am

in the deepest, blackest night of despair if you can get just one pinhole of light, all of grace rushes in.

november 19th, 2019. 2:20am

i’ve started taking up space again.

december 20th, 2019. 1:41pm

y’know, i’ve been doing pretty well for myself lately, and by that i mean that i haven’t had any major meltdowns. well, except for a couple of days ago. it was a christmas party, and as we all know- i’m not great at being social. but i also never turn down an invitation, which is a strange combination of things that happen to exist at the core of my being. but luckily, i got a plus one. see, with a plus one, i have a buffer there. i can bring one of my more interesting friends to carry conversations for me and then by proxy i become more able to socialize because i have to expend less energy by having that buffer there. anyways the person i was bringing as my plus one cancelled two hours before the event which meant that i had no time to try to get someone else to come with me. and this threw me into a major breakdown. i didn’t even want to go to the party at this point, but i had spent so much money on an outfit that if i didn’t go i would have wasted like 60 dollars. and i sat there trying to put makeup on to go but i kept crying and ruining it and then i chugged three white claws before even showing up at the party and i didn’t eat beforehand because there was supposed to be food there but by the time i was done crying and arrived, there was nothing left and then i drank 5 glasses of wine because it was free and i have social anxiety, and somehow i made it through the night without making a fool of myself, which is a miracle.

the thing is, i really don’t get upset about a lot of things. but if someone cancels or changes plans on me, especially plans that we’d had set for at least a month in advance, i lose my god damn mind. there is historically nothing that upsets me more.

but this time around, i realized that it really hurt me because it was the first time that i was confronted with the fact that i no longer have anyone in my life that prioritizes me. like, if nathan was begrudgingly my plus one to an event, he can’t get out of it- it’s non-negotiable. but like, i don’t hold that level of importance in anyone else’s life- there’s always something more important to them and uhhhhh that feeling sucks.

+++

and that was the last note i wrote in 2019. which brings us to january 2020. when i think about my relationship with nathan, i feel like january always ended up being a special month for us. in 2016, january was the first time i ever spent the night with nathan. in 2017, nathan came back to texas to see me for the new year, after we’d been long-distance for five months. at the end of 2017, he went out of town for like three weeks, and i was miserable and all alone for the holidays, but in january 2018, his last day of vacation back home in abilene coincided with my first day of vacation back in abilene so we got to see each other for a little bit instead of having to go an entire month apart during the holidays.

so i always end up getting weird and do a lot of reminiscing in january- but i feel like that’s kind of universal.

like the #1 thing that everyone does is get all existential and contemplative when the new year hits.

+++

in 2018, i never stopped moving. like a shark, i would have died if i stayed in one place for too long. and there i was in 2019, finally staying in one place.

it was a lot easier to ask for help when i had a reason to be sad. but now enough time has passed since nathan died that i feel like a burden when i’m not doing well.

in my blog post wrapping up 2018, i said that my goal was to be kinder to myself. i also said that 2019 was going to be for starting a new life.

and while i’ve been no kinder to myself, at least i’ve made strides in living in this new phase of my life. in 2019 i moved out of my mother’s house, and back into my best friend’s apartment in austin. i got 3 jobs. i cut off all of my hair and pierced my nose. i started taking up space again.

a few weeks ago, a coworker of mine told me that she had also lost a partner before. but what stuck with me was when she said, “you will never be the same. you’ll be happy again, and you’ll fall in love again- but you’ll never be the same person again”

and i’m realizing how true that is.

i think one of the scariest scenarios is waking up one day and not remembering who you are. and that’s exactly what happened to me in 2018. i woke up one day without nathan and couldn’t remember who i was.

one thing everyone’s been talking about lately is how this is the end of the decade, and i realized that nathan was in my life for the entire decade. he was in my life before the decade even started. and then when he died, i lost such a huge part of my identity. there’s a bear’s den lyric that’s like “i don’t want to know who i am without you,” and that’s what 2019 was for me.

kintsugi is the japanese art of fixing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with a lacquer mixed with powdered gold. i’ve always been a vase held by shaky hands, constantly on the precipice of shattering- and in 2018 i was dropped. in 2019, i’ve been finding tiny pieces of myself and trying to piece them back together to form a whole person again.

recently, i’ve been realizing all of the little pieces of me that are missing. like the part of me that used to be good at holding conversations with people. and the part of me that had the ability to be a person for more than like 3 hours a day. and the part of me that showed excitement about things. i don’t even know what things excite me anymore? do i have interests or hobbies? not really. one time, i described myself as a robot that powers off if i am not at work, and wow, what an apt description.

the other day, one of my friends called me out about how she can never tell if i’m actually excited about something or not. my language is always very vague and even when i’m really stoked about something, i rarely show excitement about it.

+++

so now it’s february 2020. it’s been a year and a half since nathan died. i’m feeling better. the other day, i came to the realization that i think my emotions have finally leveled off. i’m back to my normal amount of unstable, rather than that really virulent level that i was at for awhile at the end of last year. it feels good to finally have a little bit of control back over my life. i’ve finally really settled in at work, and i’m starting to feel more confident in my capabilities.

so what are my goals for 2020? i think the biggest thing is to find something that i care about. honestly, probably a big part of the reason why i’ve been having such a hard time finding a Big Girl Job to settle into is because there’s just nothing that i’m 100% passionate about. it’s hard for me to find an answer other than “i’m just trying to not die,” whenever i get asked “so why do you want this job?” i really want to find lasting stability this year. i’m tired of not being able to enjoy anything because i don’t have money. whoever said money can’t buy happiness obviously was never poor because let me tell you, i’d be a lot happier if i could afford to go out with my friends more often. or if i could like…….eat 3 meals a day without feeling guilty for wasting food because i know i can live on just one meal a day.

i also started doing a skincare routine that involves like 4 different serums and i’ve been doing really well keeping up with doing it twice a day and if i could carry that energy through the rest of the year that’d be dope. i would make a comment about how i’ve been going to the gym every day and how i’m trying to have a 2020 glo-up but i was going to the gym every day for awhile but i haven’t been in like two weeks.

also my chemical romance just reunited so i guess my other 2020 goal is to see them on this reunion tour.

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pjstafford · 5 years

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It is the Best and Worst of Times.

Dear Tumblr

It is a Sunday evening, January 13, 2019. Outside the rain is turning to snow. Tomorrow morning we should expect freezing fog. There has been a long string of storms this winter season already.

I eagerly anticipated 2019. In my mind, The New Year doesn’t begin until Tuesday because on Tuesday my life changes. I will be moving to Santa Fe for two months for the new legislative session in my capacity as a lobbyist for disability issues. New governor, both houses Democratic, and prosperity for New Mexico! The possibility of hope is in the air - and so it is with me, as well. I am taking advantage of the fact that my expenses in Santa Fe are paid for two months to move out of where I have been living for the last six. I knew when I moved in it would be temporary, but it was a desperate move after a traumatic experience. I will take the couple of months in Santa Fe to look for a new place in Albuquerque for when I return. I will look for a space to call my own after a couple of difficult years.

2019 so far has not gone well. I was sick for a day or two. I was reminded quickly in the New Year that my past was filled with pain; with the belief in a love that never was, with the trust in the wrong people, with dreams I hardly knew I was saying goodbye to until they were long gone in the past. Last week-end I had an argument with someone I have known and loved since my twenties. Tumblr is much too public to talk about it in details except to say it left me shaken and full of self-doubts. Also, it reminded me of so many past regrets. On more practical terms, my car, in the shop because I hit a coyote, had a higher repair cost estimate than what the insurance had expected and the debate was on over whether on not the car (which I have been driving fine for five months since I hit the coyote) would be totaled. That would have left me still owing $4000 on that car plus trying to get into another car somehow.

This week-end more than usual has been a week-end of ups and downs to the degree that I find myself wanting to stop, take a breath, and think for just a minute. “Time is a Jet plane,” says Bob Dylan, “It moves too fast.” Tonight, I am once again in a time of transition. So, I take a breath, and process this week-end.

My car went in on Monday and it was Friday before I got the word that my car was deemed repairable. Friday afternoon then was so good, so wonderful, everything has changed again for the better because that stress is gone.

Saturday I went to a pre-legislative forum for disability and it was a truly great morning with high hopes. The room was full and the confidence was high! I am so fortunate to have a job doing some actual good in this word! Still, for some reason, persons reminded me of my (ahem) longevity in the field. In other words I am really old. A couple of people asked me about the first company I had worked for in the field - that one on Lomas you used to work for? It was called Career Services.

Saturday afternoon my roommate /landlord puppy ran away. He was a sweet puppy; ten month old great Dane who, when he stood on his hind legs, was taller than I am. He has been here about two weeks, from the pound and battling a lung ailment. His owner, my roommate and landlord, searched for him for the last two days. I hope this sweet, loving puppy is ok tonight- in warmth, safe and with good food.

Last night I went and saw George Clinton and the PFunks. So gosh darn good. I have been wanting to see them for 30 years or more. Did not disappoint

Today, while packing for my move, I received a call from one of my closest friends that her step daughter had died. She was fifty. I actually knew her before I knew my friend. We had worked together at the location on Lomas - Career Services.

This, then, is life described in one week-end. People die. Tragedies happen. Real tragedies. Personal financial struggles frustrate and sometimes those tragedies are averted and sometimes are not, but the struggle, they continue. We get a few brief minutes to do some good in the world or to hear some great music. Then it can be gone in a second, in a moment, in a flash.

In my twenties, I struggled financially but thought it was temporary. I was married and thought it would last forever, but I didn’t even know then the realities of what was going in my own world, in my own marriage, in my own life. I was unaware of some deception. I was blissfully ignorant. It was the best and worst of times.

In my 30′s, newly divorced and trying to find meaning in my life I started a career at an agency called Career Services. I made some life long friends. I struggled less financially despite having a mortgage and a new car payment. I found out I could not have children. I thought maybe in time I would find a new love. It was the best and worst of times.

In my 40′s, I started a business and struggled financially and had prosperity intermittently. There was no time for love or relationships. I had a good friend who turned out to be untrustworthy. I did some amazing work. I made an impact on the world. It was the best and worst of times

In my 50′s, I made the same romantic mistakes I made in my twenties. However I learned that I don’t want to be alone. I struggled as much financially as I ever have. I realized the financial struggles were likely never going to end. I found that I can be forgiving and loving and still hurt people somehow and that people can be kind one minute and cruel the next. I realized the true meaning of loneliness. I realize that I should allow people to help me. I realize that I was not alone in the world and had people who loved me. I relearned the importance of laughter and joy It was the best and worst of times.

My fifties are not yet over. Will the next two years bring something different than what I expect? I both hope and fear it will. Each time is the best and worst. Value each other! I have at various times in recent years been afraid to love, to trust, to care, to interact, to engage with the world. My reasons for this are sound based on my past. However it didn’t prevent the worst of times and possibly did reduce the quality of the good times. So tonight- a new commitment to risk it all on the voyage we call life. 2019- the year is just beginning!

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good-rwbyaus · 6 years

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Modern AU: College Romance and Goofy Shenanigans

The college AU where Jaune and Pyrrha meet at a dorm party they get dragged to, and surprise their friends by acting to completely out of character by disappearing for a day and a half and showing up together Monday morning covered in hickies and completely smashed.

Jaune: Surprisingly cheerful fellow with a spotted past. His family are very uninvolved in his life, and while they never derided him for his life choices, they never supported him either. He’s in college studying Law thanks to student loans, working overtime for two years before, and his ‘side-job’ at night. Which is participating in Dance competitions that he wins handily, while making side bets on himself through his friends the Twins and their Uncle ‘Junior’. Has an ex boyfriend who’s something of a stalker, and left his hometown in somewhat of a hurry to dodge him. Participates in renaissance weapon battles in his spare time. Occasionally charismatic, but lonelier than he lets on.

Pyrrha: Former child-model looking to escape that drama, she’s a sports enthusiast looking to study kinesiology. She and her parents moved to Vale last year, and she’s struggling to balance her budget thanks to the near-collapse of the Mistral economy and her subsequent buying their way into Vale citizenship eating at her savings from her career, with the rest being used to support her parents. She’s a shoe in for a sports scholarship, but is hesitant to become a ‘star’ again. Knows Palé (Ancient Greek Wrestling) and is a champion javelin thrower. Really wants friends, and a partner who will look past her ‘famous’ background.

Ren: Former drug dealer. Supported himself and Nora while they were in the orphanage thanks to his knowledge of herbs and their mixes; this led to him doing some shady things to get them the money to go to college. And their car. He stopped because Nora begged him to quit before he ruined his life supporting hers when she was just as willing to carry the load. He’s since gone straight, and still feels guilty about the stress he put on Nora with his actions. Studying culinary arts. Practices Tai Chi and judo in parks, and might have a sleeping disorder. Sells doughnuts and pastries at a kiosk in a farmer’s market every weekend.

Nora: The most cheerful waitress in existence. Works at a pancake house, and is pretty much the company mascot. Studying child psychology, and wants to become someone who helps kids. Worries about Ren, and feels guilty that he had to support them when they were younger, and as such spends all of her generous tips on him, despite his protests. Former champion of her school wrestling team. Low-key writes romance stories and is thinking of publishing them.

Ruby: Youngest of the bunch, and stunted socially. Nearly became a shut-in due to social anxiety attacks in her last few years of high-school. Struggles with socialization and dealing with crowds, but wants to change that, even if the thought scares her. Studies metallurgy and wants to be a blacksmith, but will settle for engineering. Her uncle taught her CQC for self-defence and as a way to get her out of the house. Was made to live in a dorm rather than sharing an apartment with Yang as a way to reintegrate her with society.

Weiss: Singer, heiress, and slumming it in a college her father didn’t pick for her out of spite. When her money runs out after her first semester when he cuts her off, she finds herself managing her finances and getting a job as a lounge singer. Stuck rooming with Ruby due to luck, but wound up having a soft spot for her after seeing one of her anxiety attacks. They may or may not cuddle in the same bed most nights. Fencing enthusiast and studying business.

Yang: Brawler and proud of it. Boxing champ and very proud of it. Not so proud of her criminal record and her sordid history with a ‘fight club’ that she used to pay for her apartment/condo. Made Ruby live in a dorm by lying about having a roommate, leading to a desperate search for one on the sly that led to Blake renting her spare room. Trying to get her life back in order after a rough few years, and studying criminology, hoping to be a law officer like her uncle, father, and mother.

Blake: Former terrorist, and freedom fighter both. Used to help smuggle people into new lives, and took advantage of the system for herself after becoming disillusioned with the White Fang. Wants to live peacefully, and is paranoid about being discovered. Works in a second-hand bookshop owned by other ‘retirees’ and pays Yang in cash rather than anything else. Studying sociology and wants to become an advocate of human rights and to build support groups. Kicks all kinds of ass.

*That time everyone noticed that Jaune and Pyrrha were missing after a party, and were united for the first time in their search for their mutual friends. They decide to hang out together more after everything is done.

*That time Jaune and Pyrrha met up at a party, bonded over their mutual awkwardness, and then connected over their loneliness. Then they ran off and started the whole mess.

They were tipsy enough to decide to go make their own fun: Jaune brought her to a Street Dancing competition, introduced her to the Twins and through them, Junior’s Club. Then they went and crashed at the Twin’ place after copious amounts of drinking, got a show, drinks literally poured down their throats, did tons of body shots, and wound up not having sex due to Jaune being a gentleman even while drunk. Both the Twins, and Pyrrha thought that was stupid, and they all got drunk again that morning just so Jaune and Pyrrha could have drunk-sex and pretend they’d done it the night before, also to kill their hangovers.

They went out for a late lunch, noticed that they were on the other side of town, and wound up going to see a movie. Went out for dinner and more drinks, stopped at another Street Dance-Off, won the couples round and the huge pile of prizes, then they wound up running away from Torchwick and Cinder, who are sore losers. They wind up hiding out in a strip club, and are incredibly awkward. Especially when they get offered a ‘couple’s special’.

They drink some more, talking about their family and money problems, and their jobs. They wind up making friends with two of the strippers, Reese and Arlsan, and go back to their apartment where they chat for most of the night about college and the things the students have to do to support themselves.

The Next morning they’re incredibly hungover, and Arslan fixes them up with a litre of water and a triple of scotch each. They’re wearing fresh clothes that they won off of Torchwick and Cinder, which explains their chase, and are showered and Jaune shaved with a pink safety razor. Arslan kisses them both on the cheek and sees them off, telling them to come back for drinks next weekend.

Their friends finally spot them heading for class hand in hand, nearly out of their minds with worry and asking all their classmates if anyone saw them after a day of searching their usual hangouts and filing police reports. They’re stunned to silence when Pyrrha kisses Jaune on the lips, calls him ‘dear’, wishes him a good day, and Jaune asks if they’re still on for dinner.

*That time they decided to help Ren sell his confections, and wound up dealing with the Pastry-Mafia. Threats were had. There may have been a rumble in an alleyway after they trashed Ren’s kiosk.

*That time Jaune’s crazy ex Giles showed up on Halloween with a cult and they had to fight off eldritch abominations with Renaissance Fair weapons and superpowers.

*The day after, when Ruby wakes up and everyone else tells her what really happened after she got that concussion: kicking the ass of Jaune’s ex and the gang members wearing masks that he had with him.

Ruby and Yang’s Uncle Qrow, Federal Agent (and not a CIA Spy, no siree) is mighty impressed when he tallies up the damage report.

*That time the crazy serial killer that Jaune’s ex was involved with, Prelati, kidnapped him and Pyrrha smacked the crap out of a cult near single-handedly.

Qrow shares his flask with her, she kicked their asses so hard. He’s that impressed. Also, his nieces need to stop calling him in after shit like this goes down. He’s going to have a heart attack at this rate.

*That time everyone went out drinking and discovered that they were at the club Weiss works at, much to her embarrassment. The standing ovation was touching, but distracting! She’s trying to work here!

*That time Blake needed a date to infiltrate an event to determine if there was oppression for her campus-newspaper article, and brought Yang with her and they wound up going out for coffee after and hooking up when the sexual tension between them reached impossible heights.

*That time Ruby kept sneaking into Yang’s apartment at inopportune times, and was nearly traumatized by seeing Blake and Yang in bed together.

*That time SSSN dragged Jaune and Ren to a strip club and awkwardness ruled them all. And Pyrrha and Nora nearly killed them all. And everyone was stupefied that Jaune was on a first name basis with one of the strippers, Arslan, who offered him a discount, but only after asking if he and Pyrrha were doing okay.

*That time that Ruby met Weiss, made a horrible first impression, got lost going to her classes, spilled her lunch, and worked herself up into a panicked frenzy while imagining a year sharing a room with someone who hated her until she had a stress induced breakdown, and woke up a few hours later to find that Weiss was feeding her Hot Chocolate and Decaf-Coffee while cuddling with her under a blanket, telling her how sorry she is for ‘pushing her over the edge’ like that, and how panicked she was when she saw her curled up on the floor. She called her physician to make a house call, she was so worried.

Ruby just breaks down sobbing and tells her about her social-anxiety and panic attacks, and now her sister is going to show up for dinner and see what a mess she is when she was supposed to be going to college to change that. Weiss finds herself growing attached, despite herself, and takes stock of her roommate’s puffy eyes and smudged makeup.

When Yang shows up, Ruby introduces her to Weiss, who apologizes for covering Ruby in facial cream and nail polish when she was supposed to be going to dinner, they just lost track of time. Maybe they could reschedule to lunch tomorrow? Yang cheerfully says that the three of them are on, while Weiss sputters, and Ruby thinks that she’s smitten.

*That time when Weiss went out on a date with Neptune, and spent the entire evening telling herself that she liked men, while talking about Ruby every time he changed subjects.

*That time Blake borrowed Yang’s motorcycle to chase a burglar she thought might be a former White Fang agent, scratched the paint, and had to beg for Ren and Nora’s help fixing it before Yang came back from visiting her dad.

*That time the girls joined Pyrrha at the gym and hijinks ensued as they tried to compare their physical fitness to hers.

*That time Jaune talked about his relationship with Giles, and told everyone that according to his sisters he was obligated to wear women’s clothes half of the time they were dating, which led to some awkward habits forming, some sometimes funny, sometimes tragic moments going to church, and how their relationship broke down due to social pressure, their mutual and distinct social issues, and Giles’ issues with being seen dating a man.

Jaune admits that, in hindsight, the dress thing probably contributed to the breakdown.

*That time Weiss made it her duty to take Ruby shopping for swimsuits, and wound up giving herself more conflicting feelings.

*That time Yang crashed with Ruby for the weekend, and wound up talking about her sordid first few years away from home while drunk.

*She had a promising boxing career, scholarships on the horizon, and the potential to go to the nationals. But she became addicted to the adrenaline, and when she got offered the chance to make some extra money by doing some underground fights, she jumped at the chance.

She moved out of the house, leaving her father and sister, who she’d taken care of for too long, and lived for herself. She competed professionally less and less, and fought underground more and more, until one day, years later, she looked around her, at the crappy place she lived in, the money she never needed but still gambled, and couldn’t recall the last time she called her sister. And she felt shame.

Her pro-career might be gone, but she learned a lot in that time away. And her father and sister learned to get their shit together without her there. They all grew a little. And now she’s ready to move on with her life.

*That time Ren took ‘The Slothmobile’ and entered a street race in the desert to try and win some extra cash for next year’s tuition, with Jaune as his harried passenger and navigator.

**The Slothmobile is an old, Classic convertible that Ren and Nora have practically rebuilt after getting a good deal on it due to its condition. A very good deal. A very, very, almost suspiciously good deal. The Slothmobile is definitely not stolen. Ren just had very specific instructions to take it to a specific Insurance Dealership, and to ask for a Specific Teller, and to mention the Seller of the car along with their ‘guy-code’ phrase. It was covered in rust, scratched, and faded yellow with a tattered soft cover. They buffed out the rust, painted it in green with hot pink highlights. (Ren won the color choice coin toss. Nora won the naming rights) They yanked out the busted radio, covered the seats in fake leather covers Nora made, and patched up the soft top with strips of leather and ceramic plates that look pretty good.

***They don’t pay for parking over half of the year, until the snow sets in. Otherwise, they keep moving it around parking lots they know it won’t be towed in for leaving it there.

*That time Nora entered the ‘Professional Waitress Championship’ of the Kingdom, and needed Weiss’ help with the high-class etiquette portion.

*That time Blake’s ex Adam showed up and Yang winds up kicking his ass, only to discover that he’s a terrorist. Then she gets her Uncle to arrest him.

Blake may or may not bolt to her escape route, stop halfway across the city, turn around and run back to their apartment just in time to pin Yang to the floor when she gets back.

Then she cries. A lot. Especially when Yang starts telling her about her own sordid history, and tells her that she will find no judgement from her, just the acceptance she’s always wanted.

Most of Blake’s stuff (which is very little save for her books) is already thrown into a pair of large duffle bags. They unpack them in Yang’s room.

“Don’t tell Ruby I have a spare room again. Living in the dorm is good for her.” “I’m here as an excuse to keep her out, for her own good. That was our deal…” “Well… I think it’s more than that now…”

*That time Ruby steals all of Jaune’s renaissance weapons, and gets mistaken for an arms dealer by the police.

*That time they all go to the beach and wind up competing in a sand building contest and watching fireworks at night.

*That time Jaune and Pyrrha talk to Ren and Nora about splitting a mortgage and buying a house the four of them can share while they live in Vale.

*That time that everyone helped Weiss record and market her own single album. They ‘borrowed’ a lot of their equipment from the college, and had to sneak it back inside before anyone noticed, and almost got arrested doing it. Shenanigans and chases ensued!

*That time Yang dragged Weiss, Ruby, and Pyrrha bar hopping and they run into Cinder Fall, who is salty about her loss, and they get into a massive bar fight. Pyrrha defendeds Jaune’s honor, Ruby broke a chair over someone’s head, and Weiss stabbed someone with her stiletto shoes. Yang is impressed with all of them. Nora pouts about working that night and missing all the fun.

*That time Pyrrha’s parents came to visit, and Jaune thought they were traditionalists, leading to him trying to hide the evidence of them switching between dorm rooms to sleep with each other. Pyrrha’s parents troll him so much to get a feel for his character.

*That time Cardin Winchester found Jaune on campus, and tried to blackmail him with old pictures of Jaune crossdressing, and Pyrrha kicked his ass.

*That time Pyrrha and Jaune drove themselves crazy trying to plan a perfect valentine’s day gift for the other.

Basically, it’s Undergrads meet RWBY!

Massive AU filled with Fluff and Chaos here. Feel free to submit your own additions everyone! Go wild!

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dreamca7cher · 6 years

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My What MV theory

Ok, so I watched the MV a couple dozen times and my theory so far is that What takes place sometime after the events of the You and I MV. The girls are a little older, living in the city. However the members, Jiu in particular, are haunted by dreams of when Yoohyeon got trapped in the previous era. Yoohyeon herself has also moved to the city in her previous era world, but is alone and haunted by visions of the real world. Eventually a portal (the door with purple police tape over it) to the other dimension opens up, allowing Yoohyeon's spirit to visit our dimension when she dreams. Siyeon seems to detect Yoohyeon's presence, and is searching for her in the city. Meanwhile, Gahyeon is investigating the graffiti and finds SuA, Handong, and Dami possibly under sleepwalking effects due to their nightmare. So just as the girls have matured, their nightmares aren't the spider monster anymore, but for Yoohyeon it's being alone and for Jiu it's her failure to save Yoohyeon. Finally, Jiu catches a glimpse of Yoohyeon's spirit in the real world before Yoohyeon wakes up back in the previous era. Either that or Jiu is dreaming as well of her. Not sure what the crystal at the beginning symbolizes tho, perhaps it's to signify taht Yoohyeon is holding on to her nightmare too much. I think this MV does a great job of illustrating the theme of feeling trapped in your real-world stresses like loneliness and failure, and the lyrics further emphasize that. And then the chorus is about trying to break out of that trance and wake up from the nightmare by asking for help. What do you guys think?

#dreamcatcher #what #mv #theory #plot

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smarmykemetic · 7 years

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in another life, nephthys is sitting in a morgue. her fingers go over a body in little searching rivers. she will bring the hearse around and help the body in. in this life, she feels sometimes her real job is protector of the living, not of the dead. who else needs it, after all? the dead are the dead. she arranges them like flower petals. her funeral home comes smelling of coffins, but softly, welcoming. she is known for taking “hard cases,” makes a mangled body look beautiful, the same way she did once, a long time ago, for osiris, who calls her sometimes, when he remembers. anubis and neph get together and shit-talk. she likes dark wine a lot. he likes taxes. osiris is busy. sticks his hands in the dirt and shifts it around. when monsanto comes, osiris floods. catch him out with the bees. catch him telling them the right way to go, but gently. a good leader who is tired, right. had the pride dragged out of him. he likes superman a lot. feels a certain je ne se quoi connection to someone who can’t see through lead. osiris, half-there, half-gone. scattered to the ends of the earth like seeds. anubis - when he’s not folding a fitted sheet - lives in the world of forensic science and judging. dual degree, because he like being busy. meticulous. gets the details right. walks in the world of law and feels a little thrill (just quietly) whenever sentencing someone he knows is guilty. listens well, and always decorates tastefully. eats in tiny bites. likes to cook by weighing things. actually just likes to weigh things. he has a long love-hate relationship of digital scales - so accurate but so unbeautiful. a digital scale takes the uncertainty out. it knows how much a feather heart would be. it is unlike the scales of his hands, the sensation of good/guilty. the word “fair but harsh” follows at his feet. he likes wreaths, the arrangement of something dying. his guilty pleasure is crime tv, although neph won’t watch it with him any more because he can’t help but say things like “in reality, that wouldn’t be sufficient evidence” or “98% of murders go unsolved” or “i can tell by his eyes that he’s guilty”. hathor - twin to destruction - runs a couple’s spa. loves weddings and planning weddings and being at weddings and dancing at weddings. has an elaborate ballroom for elaborate parties where elaborate people go. of course situated on 500 acres of farmland with free-range cows. if you’re really nice to her and she’s really drunk, she’ll let you ride one. always knows what kind of bottle to bring to a party, loves long dresses that flow around her. knows instinctively if you need a hug and is always good for one. once dressed up as sekmet for halloween, to which everyone said “too soon.” has long hair and really bad at palm reading but loves giving advice about your love line. known for massages that are brutal but effective: a little hint of harshness, her twin’s reflection. cries at proposal videos and has a girl’s night every month where they all get together to watch chick flicks. most of them love it, sekmet pretends to hate it just because she likes to complain loudly. sekmet. poor lady. the problem with identical twins is that everyone thinks they’re one and the same person. hathor sprang from a mirror on the day that sekmet looked into her own destruction and split the love she has in her heart with the evil she had wrought. it was lonely, at the end of the world, and her sister came from that loneliness. wears a different pair of glasses every day of the week, always has a biting reply that is unfairly funny. loves glasses that have absurd rims, mostly because she likes watching people squirm when they want to mention them - “do you like them?” she grins, knowing they do not, knowing they will not tell her that, her eyes the unblinking sun glare she’s so good at. she hides in the shadows, doesn’t smile unless you’re uncomfortable, still agrees to get her nails done with hathor every week (coffin-shaped acrylics, obviously). absolutely knows your deepest insecurity instinctively. best friends (and maybe more than friends) with bast. they go motorcycling. bast, made kitten-woman from lion-heart, often gets underestimated, and she’s okay with that. a cat knows when to sheathe claws. how to purr in the right way only to save the fangs for a later day. loves winged eyeliner. buys low, sells high. also runs an all-inclusive women’s shelter and very good at group therapy. the group homes for “lost girls” sprawl across the country. she seems like she’s always there, ready. the minute things get tense and a girl starts acting up: suddenly, her green eyes, watching. that unnerving promise that the protection she offers does not include protection from the growl at the back of her throat. loves stock markets mostly because it’s watching a string, but with data. will also never admit that out loud for any reason ever even if it meant her life was forfeit. kind of has a thing for sekmet, kind of, because, like, who couldn’t. maybe it’s kind of happened a few times oops. often pranks ra, because, like, who wouldn’t. ra works on weekends in animal rehabilitation because where else can you get a hawk in this economy. tired, but good with a smile. teacher at a very fancy art school where he likes to see how many times the words “be creative” can be used in a day. really into that one “miley what’s good” moment from nicki minaj, which he still references even though it’s been a year. tagged it @aset. actually has learned how to get along with osiris, because being in charge honestly got to be too much stress. has convinced hathor his real name is greg. every year he changes it up to something more absurd. last year it was bob. when she gets drunk at the end of the year with sekmet, she always begs him to tell her the truth. he says “okay, okay, okay.” then convinces her it’s Microsoft Word. also owns a large collection of “#1 Dad” mugs. regularly challenges horus to arcade games. horus works in the department of defense. tries to actually defend things, works with the “eye in the sky” and media intake. really likes how cool his eyepatch makes him look. time in this world is so specific, and there’s so much to take in while his eye is wandering. it used to be a lot harder to watch over things. he secretly cries at the movies where the son says “no mom, i’m living your dreams!” but still gets coffee with aset. aset keeps her hair in a bun and her chin up. nobody tries her. on trains, there’s a big circle of space around her, even at rush hour. she bleeds authority. mogul at large, although her interests vary. whatever will bring her upwards, quickly. marriage counselling is quite fun, but she’s thinking about being a divorce lawyer soon. and yet, despite all this fire in her: sweet. knows when to make cookies. she did what she had to do to survive. if you’re loved by her, you’re safe. she doesn’t love often, but when she does, it expands to swell the entirety of space. has a collection of sand dollars and lipsticks. excellent at making someone feel a little less alone. she won’t comfort you with a hug. she’ll show up and be there and somehow, in that knifeblade power she wields, you feel better. whole. set is at the edges. turns out the problem with immortality is that everyone remembers that one time you cain-and-abel’ed your brother. “it’s like,” horus said once while drunk, “can i even trust you anymore?” it hurt worse than set expected. family didn’t matter that much until he was left without it. works in dentistry where he can put people in pain for a fee. secretly covets the color pink; that softer blush than the reds people paint him in. protector of the wild ones, the ones no one else will look after. the darker souls who are still asking for saving. he understands sibling jealousy a lot. sometimes calms people down, sometimes revs them up. cries in bathtubs. feels himself, full of rot. why is it that the gods were made so human, and he, so cruel, so twisted, so evil. to spit at him is good, after all. he breaks like a branch in a storm. goes to pride parades in a mask, wishing for a courage he doesn’t know the name of. he calls toth just to hear him breathe, and then immediately hangs up. and toth? in the land where words are so permanent and impermanent, where wisdom is both a click away and away from those who doesn’t want to see it - doesn’t he suffer the greatest. it was one thing when libraries weren’t a thing. it was another when the world is now a constant updating stream. he feels the echo chambers like bracelets on him. now there’s information everywhere - but nobody willing to actually read. how terrible, how frustrating. and yet: for every person who doesn’t understand “don’t believe everything you read”, there’s another book being quietly self-published that strikes his interest, his longing. in this life, when he can, he turns the computer off and goes for a walk. when he writes come, the gods come. and they talk.

modern (kemetic) gods.

this piece was written for me by the lovely @inkskinned. Thank you so much Raquel!!

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twilight-resonance · 3 years

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Whirl

Well, it turns out that whatever I did last night does not in fact keep my dreams from fragging. Was just as bad last night. So I guess I’ve got to do the normal processing for it to work. Which is not to say that I don’t need to bother with anything else. Actually making myself be a person is also important, but dreams are a place to start. Sigh.

Hurting a lot tonight. Been hurting a lot the last few. ...This is not helped by my fairly throughly trashed sleep-quality the last few nights. I tried a new shampoo and it turns out there was something in it that I’m allergic to (lavender) and I didn’t realize right away; so my allergies have been absolutely terrible the last few nights, and consequently so has my sleep quality. Not sleeping enough doesn’t typically wreck me, but this - whatever this is - really has. I haven’t been able to think straight for a few days now. It’s amazing how much muscle memory tries to compensate for decision-making - and how it results in things like, oh, taking the coffee cone off the cup so that you can pour hot water directly into your cream. *facepalm* My last few days have been a minefield of these things, to say nothing of my ability to focus on anything less concrete. Sigh again. Well, I’ve got different shampoo now and I washed my pillowcase, and I’m hoping between that and writing properly tonight maybe I’ll get a good night’s sleep this time. If we can get up early we’ll make waffles again tomorrow morning, so we’ll hope for that.

It’s hard to describe what, exactly. We had to take the car we’ve been borrowing from Hearthsnail’s dad to get smogged today; and while we were waiting, we went to hang out on the harbor that his dad’s been rebuilding for the last couple years (yes, the entire harbor, from the docks to the pilings to the buildings - the man is formidable). It... I don’t know. It hit a sweet-sore spot. Reminded me of how much I miss being down the coast at my old job. Not the job itself - though I miss that too - but the place. Those salty-sweet early mornings with the frigid sea breeze blowing in, and the wind pulling at all hours, and the sort of... loneliness that comes with it. It’s a loneliness that is itself a sort of balm for loneliness; that takes the bitter and makes it soft and familiar and somehow comforting. I’ve never been one for the beach, nor for the coast itself; but oh, in another life, I could have been a sailor. I understand that siren’s call to leave and up-and-go and lose yourself in the day-by-day rhythm of minding the sails and the ropes and the salt and the tar; in the hard work, and in the nowhere else to be. There’s a way that sort of life makes room for finding some peace in and with yourself, because you’ll go mad if you can’t; because you lose all your other ties in the world, and all there is is what you bring. It’s that sort of peace, I suppose, that I crave; and that sort of hurt brought up and pulled tender today. I would have liked to sit on the end of one of the docks and simply sat and done nothing, and maybe find a moment of that peace; but it wasn’t in the cards. Still, though. Still.

There are other things that are hurting, but to be honest I get the sense that many of them are only hurting because I’m hurting; and that it’s other things at root. Once upon a time I could’ve searched it down, but that’s a skill that still escapes me these days. These nights are practice, for what it’s worth.

Sigh. Let’s talk about the last little while. May’s been busy. Part of why I haven’t written. Part, I just haven’t. It’s been a whirl of appointments, chores, tours, and other meetings. Been looking at wedding venues this month; so far, we’re two for four with four to go. There’s one in particular that looks promising - if I could get them to respond to my contact attempts. But there are other good ones too. Then there’s the health things - I needed my TB clearance updated and that turned into a saga of three separate appointments, and another checkup I need to schedule that is... probably nothing, but something you want to catch as absolutely as early as possible if it is something (and given I've let it go two years now, we’re already a few strikes down on that one). Then all the miscellaneous chores: smogging the car, as I already mentioned, and going through the motions necessary to actually buy a new one of our own. So that’s new - and also a process. Hoping to have it in time for summer.

Then there’s all the other bits and pieces. Signing up for intro sessions for possibly intern teaching next year. They’re going to need teachers, and I’m tired of not having work - and I can do the double load. Also applied for a position at EdPuzzle that, well, we’ll see - haven’t heard anything back from them either. I’ve just reached a breaking point with... not having proper health insurance, and doctor access, and not being able to replace the things I need when they break or wear out, and not having any kind of independence or safety net if something goes terribly wrong. I would like to be able to help pay for the variety of expensive things coming up - the car, the wedding, a new mattress that you can’t feel the springs through, dental work, etc - and I’m, just, tired. Tired of having these things hanging over my head and feeling immobilized because I can’t, you know, actually do anything about them. ...There’s a position I’ve got my eye on, if I can make the interning thing work. It’s not quite where I wanted, but it’s doable, and at this point that’s good enough for me. If I can get it. We’ll see.

Thing’s’ve been hard. For a long time now. Most of the time I trudge on without thinking about it, but I feel like the cracks have been showing a little more and a little more lately. It’s rough. I’m still miles better than I’ve been, but there’s still miles left to go too - well. You know how it goes.

Let’s see. More mundane things. I think I said that of all the things we planted, only the corn’s growing; but my gods, is it growing. An inch a day on the biggest stalks, which is nothing to sneeze at. Had a few not quite come in right - the seeds are a bit old so I wonder if they just got a bit weird - and had one gnawed down by a mysterious critter. Not sure if it was bird or bug or mammal or mollusk. The corns that I transplanted did okay and are still shooting up, so that makes me happy. We’ve been enjoying spending time in the garden now that we’ve got the space set up for it; it’s a nice space.

There’s food. Was craving french dip the other night of all things, so I spent some time figuring out how to best make that vegetarian and got the things for it. So that’ll be new, when we do it. Got things to make coffee cake, too - something else I’ve been wanting to try to make - and banana cream pie, which I’ve made once before a long time ago. Hearthsnail’s never had it, and I figure he’ll probably like it, so. We also got lemons for lemonade, and ingredients for sushi now that it’s warmed back up again... So lots of food we haven’t done before, or haven’t done for months. I still keep hoping Hearthsnail will feel up to making bread one of these days. Not that I couldn’t do it, but it was his idea and it’ll make him happy to be the one to do.

Ugh, which reminds me of wedding catering. I’m both looking forward to that, and not. Spent some time trying to figure out how you put a menu together, and as far as I can tell the only guidance that exists online is for how to get a caterer, not how to work with one - so. Bleh. I dunno. This one goes into a separate ramble about vegetarian food, and how frustrating it is that most peoples’ idea of what vegetarian food is consists of “uh, I dunno - eggplant? mushrooms? squash? tofu? and maybe let’s throw that together with some quinoa or rice or something, and maybe have a salad on the side”. Like. It’s not that hard, you guys. It’s all the same recipes you’d make... without the meat. It’s not that hard to make tikka masala or chicken noodle soup and just add potatoes instead of meat. Or gumbo without the sausage. Or sushi without the fish. It’s just... not that hard. Most of the time the taste of the dish is good enough on its own, and if you really need or want a meaty flavor for something, there’s things you can do about that. Soy sauce helps fill in for beef, curry helps add a bit of a chicken-y flavor (weirdly enough), etc. Some things are harder - like the french dip above is definitely not one that’s intuitive - but seriously. It’s not that hard. I don’t understand the disconnect, and I'm not looking forward to trying to navigate it for catering.

Simple pleasures. What else. Gods, I don’t know. I ordered some more socks the other day because I’m tired of not having socks, even though I can’t really afford it right now. Should be here tomorrow. There ought to be other things besides, and I feel like there ought to be, but I can’t fathom what. On to other things, then, I suppose.

We’ve been watching Stargate SG1. Maybe I already mentioned that, maybe I didn’t. Either way, we’ve been enjoying it, though as with all things it took me a while to get there. We’ve enjoyed most of all, I think - once they get a few seasons in and really hit their groove, the characters just act like I swear honest-to-gods adventurers. Like, there are so many moments we’ve just straight-up been there for before, or watched players do or try to pull, and it just all feels very RPG in a way. I particularly enjoy the part where Daniel just decided at some point that he’s died too many times and just doesn’t give a fuck anymore, and just kind of says and does whatever. Been there, buddy. Been there too. So that’s a thing.

Events have been a thing, but they’re a kind of stressful that I don’t want to touch right now. Plenty have been good. Many have been fine. There are just other background elements that exist too. Another day. Maybe once I’m closer to resolving them.

Heh. Thanks, song. “You’re doin’ me wrong/Dissecting the bird/Tryin’ to find the song//It’s a miracle/That you’re here at all...” (John Craigie)

(True enough. I just wish I knew how to go for the song otherwise though, you know? I feel like all I’ve got is scalpels and I’m supposed to do... what? Sigh. I dunno.)

There’s a game I’ve been playing - did I talk about it at all? - called “Yes, Your Grace”. I was expecting it to be a bit more “Papers Please” and a bit less story-adventure, but I’ve still enjoyed it. Lost my first run of it - won the battle but got strung up by my peasants afterwards, so that didn’t go too well. Trying again with a second run and it’s going better now that I’ve got a feel for it. We’ll see if the end goes any better this time.

Not sure what else to talk about. Still trying to dump as much of my brain on the page as I can tonight so that the dreams don’t find me. Last night’s was upsetting; more in undertones than overtones, but it still upset me nonetheless. Old hauntings, and all.

Been working on Fal the last few. Not that that’s unusual itself; more that there are a few things I haven’t made headway on for a long time that all came together in leaps and bounds. Prices for large structures, equipment slots, how to organize the health section, illness symptoms, etc. It’s just been, dunno, nice. I’d like to have another draft of the rulebook out as soon as I can, because it hit me recently how outdated the one everyone else has been working with is and I ought to fix that. Just, want to wrap a few things up first so they’ll be more useful. Past lives, too, I made some headway on. Website needs some working but that’s its own other deal.

I think I’m about out. Not sure I’m empty, as it were, but I’m out. We’ll chance bed and see how it goes tonight. Hoping for sleep to go a bit better this time. Gods, I’m tired.

#blog #journal #busy #wedding planning #work #fal #loneliness #sailing #garden #corn #health #cooking #vegetarian food #dreams #emotions #feelings #harbor #ocean #sleep #stargate sg1 #tv shows

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