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thatpastelwitchbitch · 5 months

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Abusive parents, and accepting that they'll never love you...

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Tw: Child neglect, child abuse (sexual, physical, and emotional), generational trauma, and a generalized discussion on mental illnesses.

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Recently, I've had my first real-life interaction with my mom in two years. This interaction has brought me to the realization that my parents will never change. They will continue to be bad people and bad parents until death. I doubt they were born evil, of course. Yet they had rather traumatic upbringings that they never fully accepted.

My mother, growing up, was severely neglected and lost her only brother at a young age. My father was physically abused by his parents, and his sister was molested. They're two unlucky souls who bond via a shared love for nicotine, weed, booze, and self-loathing. Yet despite their sympathetic upbringings, they have drained me of all my pity. Since they have been using these experiences to excuse their abusive actions for the past 50 years.

Our traumatic experiences are a part of us, but they do not excuse our actions.

To truly acknowledge a person's trauma is to accept that it will always be a part of you. Yet you can not let that fact control your life. For if you do your growth, as a person will be stunted, and you'll never hold yourself accountable for your own actions.

If a person decides to try and help other people in any meaningful way, they must first acknowledge their demons and accept change as the only solution. This sentiment is even more important to keep in mind when deciding to raise children.

A child's parents should be selfless. They should put their kids first and themselves last since they have taken up the responsibility of raising a child. When the parents do not meet this standard and are selfish, rude, and abusive, the child assumes they themselves are to blame. Some may think that they deserve to be treated badly and that if they change themselves, their parents will treat them properly. Sadly, the parents never change. Instead, they will continue to blame and abuse the kid, despite them being the only ones capable of changing their own actions. Change isn't possible unless a person admits fault.

My parents have proven to me that they are too far gone to change their ways.

When I saw my mother for the first time in two years, I realized she hadn't changed at all. The same snarky comments, the same sense of self-entitlement, and that alcoholic flush. She hadn't learned anything from her loss of custody or our lack of contact. She was just the same mom I've known all my life. She even kept referring to her house as "home," as if that place ever were ever a home. That house was where my brother had molested us. Yet she had the nerve to continue bringing him up.

She doesn't believe us. All of the custody battles and evaluations? They were all over nothing in her eyes. My own mother, the woman who birthed me, bathed me. She didn't believe me. I've lived only seventeen years, yet already I've had to realize that my mother loves and cares about our abuser more than me. That's just the type of person she is, I suppose. She'd always forget about me in the bathtub, at soccer practice, or at dance class. She was always keeping herself busy with her delusions. "People hate us because we're weird." "We're not like other people; we're special." "You and me are the only ones who really understand each other." My mom would constantly say stuff like me ever since I was able to state my own opinions. A forty-year-old woman comparing herself to a five-year-old? She was convinced that she wasn't allowed out of the house to meet friends in fear of my father's wrath. Yet he would never physically keep her there.

Since my father was hit as a child, he vowed never to hit his family.

While he occasionally broke this vow, I never once saw him hit or restrain my mother in any way. My dad had a temper, and every day, he would get into angry, screaming fits about something. But my mom always stood her ground and argued back at him. I think she found some form of comfort in her suffering at the house, which is why she never left. Instead, she tried to raise me into being her "perfect" daughter and, more importantly, a friend for her. This treatment gave me the idea for many years that, despite everything she does, she still loved me.

I had given up on having a loving father figure early on in life. The first ever memory I have is of my dad yelling at my mother to "shut me up." When I would cry, he would yell at me, saying, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" So that made me grow to both rarely show valuable emotions and despise my father. But my mother hated him as much as me, right? She always complained about him, told me about all his failures as a husband, and disapproved of his actions. But then why did she never divorce him?

Finding comfort in mistreatment.

That's what my mother does. She refuses to accept change and instead continues to wallow in her own misery. That's why I know she doesn't really love me and won't attempt to change. A person who wants to have a loving relationship with another should do everything in their power to express their admiration. They should be willing to change if the other person is having a problem with their actions.

But that's only expected. They have no responsibility to change. What my mom had shown me that over the past two years, she had not changed, it made me realize she was not making an effort to change. She just expects all the benefits of having a relationship with someone without putting in any of the effort. This is a thought process that I am all too familiar with when trying to maintain relationships. It breaks my heart that my own mother doesn't even care enough about me to attempt change.

But that can't just be the end, can it?

Of course, it can't be! Despite my parents' misgivings, I can't just give up on my life. With life comes with a brutal acceptance of tragedies. If I want to keep myself happy and healthy, I need to give up on a relationship with my parents and focus on forming a newfound form of family. And I do want to keep myself happy! Because I deserve it. I've been mistreated my whole life, but I'm not going to let that fact stop me from striving to be the best person I can be. After all, I'm only truly aware of this one chance at consciousness, and I'm not going to just let this chance pass me by!

When life just keeps punching you down, you must keep fighting. Don't let some asshole stop you from living your life. We're the only people who can treat ourselves with the most respect. We are born alone, and we die alone. So we must be our own best friend in order to get through all the shit life will put in our way. When your brain gets mean and this sentiment is too hard to follow, be sure to surround yourself with supportive friends and family, and don't be afraid to admit you're having issues!

Stay awesome - Bopo ☆

#tw childhood trauma #trauma #lain iwakura #alone with my thoughts #writing #childhood trauma #serial experiments lain #dont give up #love yourself #life #mental illness #tw child abuse #parents stinky #family #yo mama #parents #tw abuse

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ao3gobi17 · 2 months

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If Spider were younger, let's say 11/12 years (but his attitude towards Quaritch wouldn't have changed much, except that he would probably be more nervous about the situation and weaker at staying calm), would Quaritch still allow him to meet with Matthew in order to obtain information, considering that younger people are more easily manipulated? And would he have changed any of his actions at all because of Spider's young age?

Oh I like this question because I had to think about the answer!

Spider's attitude would be fairly similar, if anything he would be more upset/volatile like you said. From Quaritch's end he would see Spider looking a lot closer to 7 year old Spider (especially if puberty hadn't massively kicked in yet) so I think Q would feel more in control (dealing with 16 year old Spider who on the cusp of adulthood and doesn't resemble his 7 year old self in a lot of ways drives home the lack of control Q has on much of the situation.) He would definitely be more careful with Spider, highly doubt he'd let him try to escape the lodge early on in the fic, but also he'd probably see if he could get them sharing a room. He might not have had Spider do the Leo switch either, I feel like maybe at 12... but it would be touch and go on that, he might just try to intimidate him into giving up his location.

There would also be an even greater pull towards Q for Spider given he's only been separated from his dad for 4-5 years, so if his fear/upset settled he might end up seeking out more comfort from Q in ways that 16 year old Spider isn't.

For Matthew Meyer.. I doubt 11-12 year old Spider would have been able to pull off the 'rescue' that 16 year old Spider did and to be fair, Q didn't even expect it of 16 year old Spider! So he wouldn't worry about the manipulation in that sense. But he would worry about Spider getting more distressed if MM tried to make a bond and then died. But he would really want the info. I could see it being a real 50/50 decision for Q (whereas in Custody he did want Spider to go in preferably). Spider might have been manipulated enough by Q at that point that he could send him in all prepped that MM was some sort of 'bad guy' who might try to say lies that got in the way of finding mom's killer. <3

#gobibside #custody

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queenshelby · 3 years

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The Last Semester – Part Eighteen

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,407

Warning: Pregnancy Mentioned

Prior Parts: https://queenshelby.tumblr.com/post/659814893025902592/the-last-semester-part-seventeen

YOUR POV

Another week had passed and there was nothing but radio silence from Cillian and you were scrambling to think about what to do.

Emma certainly achieved her goal by publishing this most ridiculous article about your relationship. Clearly, it had an effect on Cillian.

You texted him twice, but received no response. You were heartbroken and riddled with morning sickness. Yet, you carried on as if nothing had happened.

You had started your first teaching job after finishing university and finally found a small apartment in Dublin and you still hadn’t told anyone that you were pregnant. Only your stepmother knew and she promised to keep it a secret until you were ready to talk about it or make a decision about whether or not to keep the baby.

Whilst you didn’t judge anyone who chose to terminate, your choice was likely going to keep the baby. You couldn’t terminate the pregnancy. It wasn’t really an option for you and you were almost certain that you would keep the baby. You knew that you were old enough and mature enough to have this child.

Packing boxes was distracting you. There wasn’t much to pack as you hadn’t unpacked the majority of your belongings since moving from London to start with.

Your stepmother was helping you sort through everything and made a list of things you would need in the near future while looking through the basement to see what she had kept from her last pregnancy which, evidentially, wasn’t much.

It gave her a good excuse to also do the annual spring clean and clear out the rubbish that had accumulated over the years.

‘You know, he’s good with his boys so even if things don’t work out between you, I think you will find that he will be a good dad’ your stepmother said before asking you when you were planning to tell him.

‘I want him to talk to me because of what he feels and not because he has to if he finds out that I am pregnant. I will give it a few weeks and see if he comes around’ you huffed, somewhat upset by Cillian pulling away from you once again.

‘You love him don’t you?’ your stepmother then asked and you nodded, tears running down your face.

‘I just wish he felt the same’ you then said as your emotions were getting the better of you and you broke down.

‘I think he does. He is just scared. There is a lot at stake for him and, honestly, with you being so much younger he might be worried about the longevity of your relationship. He is probably waying things up. This not only impacts his personal life, the kids, but also his career and friendships’ your stepmother explained and you knew that she was right. Yet, you were angry and hormonal.

Cillian’s POV

Over the past two weeks, Cillian had done a lot of thinking. The conflict with your father was just one final straw that had been drawn.

For months, when his agent found out about his relationship with a much younger woman, he had been told to break it off. It was bad for his career, making him a cliché of a Hollywood actor.

Then, there were his sons who had asked questions about you and his ex-wife certainly fuelled the fire when it came to their apprehension. She opposed his new relationship and, whilst he cared little about what she thought about him, Cillian had to communicate with her on a daily basis. After all, she was the mother of his children and they shared custody for them.

Then, of course, there was the fact that you were twenty years younger than Cillian and he worried that, one day, you would realise that you missed out on life and should have been with someone your own age, explore, party and travel. Do what people your age do and not be slowed down by someone so much older. The age gap between you was certainly something that bothered him on a personal level as he thought that, one day, you might change your mind about him and what you wanted.

In Cillian’s mind, the easiest way out was to break it off with you. It would solve all of his problems. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He loved you, he missed you and he wanted to be with you no matter how illogical it was.

Every night, he flicked through your photographs on his phone and he drafted one message after another to you before simply deleting them all, not knowing what to say, knowing that it was better if he didn’t say anything at all.

It wasn’t until Saturday evening, just as you finished packing up for your move, that Cillian slowly came to his senses about what he wanted and texted you with just a little bit of help from his son Charlie.

‘Hey, dad! Did you listen to what I said?’ Charlie asked as Cillian was, once again, lost in his thoughts.

‘I am sorry Charlie. What did you say?’ he asked, looking up from his phone with some help.

‘I want to go to the movies with Janine tomorrow. Is that ok?’ he asked, causing Cillian to raise an eyebrow and sigh.

‘She is only 18 months older than me and you know what?’ Charlie then said, waiting for his father’s reaction.

‘What?’ Cillian chuckled.

‘According to a very not so relevant book I just read, age doesn’t matter unless you are a cheese’ Charlie then said, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘That’s some deep poetry right there’ Cillian chuckled before agreeing to his son’s request and giving him some money to take out Janine.

‘Thanks dad. You know, this goes for you too and if you don’t make a move on Y/N, someone else will snap her up in no time’ Charlie then said with a hint of sarcasm.

‘Oh, you think so?’ Cillian chuckled and, just as he did, Charlie grabbed his father’s phone and began typing in his password.

‘Hey, give that back. I am not joking. I will ground you’ Cillian said somewhat angrily.

‘Well, I am with mum next week so you can’t really do that’ Charlie said as he finished typing before returning the phone to Cillian.

‘Fuck’ Cillian shouted as he read the message from him to you which simply read ‘I miss you’.

‘You just said a swearword. That’s naughty’ Charlie then grinned, causing Cillian to speechlessly stand in the kitchen and think about what to say now.

‘Well, I suppose this will get the conversation going. Thanks for the 50 Euro dad’ Charlie chuckled before walking into his room.

‘Grounded’ Cillian growled.

‘Fine. At least it was worth it’ Charlie winked back.

Your Father’s POV

The same evening, your father arrived home from work to you pulling out of the driveway and a stack of garbage bags being piled up in front of the front door of the house.

‘What the…’ he growled just as your stepmother brought out the final bag.

‘Spring clean’ she said somewhat satisfied, causing him to huff.

‘Where is Y/N going?’ your father asked as he was just about to take off his shoes.

‘To Marina’s house. Movie night I think’ your stepmother said before asking your father to put the trash into the bins before taking off his shoes.

‘Sure’ he responded just as she disappeared back inside to finish off cooking and, as your father took out the trash as requested, one of the large thin plastic bags got caught on the tyre of the bicycle besides the house.

It tore almost immediately and half of its contents scattered over the wet grass.

‘For fuck sake’ your father shouted to himself as he pulled open the bin and discarded of the half full bag and the two other bags he was carrying before collecting the contents from the floor.

‘Fantastic’ he growled again with anger as he realised that it was the bag containing the bathroom contents which had spilled and, amongst old tooth brushes and a sticky tube of toothpaste, he found something unusual. A digital pregnancy test which clearly read ‘POSITIVE’.

His breath caught in his throat as he picked it up, looking at it is somewhat stunned and surprised.

Was this really happening, he wondered?

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#Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine

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blank-space-daisy13 · 3 years

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Why I won’t invite my biological father to my wedding.

I wanted to post this on Instagram or Facebook but I don’t want to deal with people saying I’m “drama.” But I wanted to write this out just in case someone is ballsy enough to ask me.

Let’s start off with the fact that after he got with my step mom, he wasn’t really around. He also never really cared or tried to take care of us (my brother and me) unless he absolutely had to.

Before my step mom and when we still lived in the apartment, On nights he had us my mom would drop us off already fed, he’d turn the tv on and go play on his computer until we had to go to bed. If he had us on a weekend, same thing. We’d wake up and he’d feed us breakfast, then tv with him in his room on the computer, lunch, tv, dinner, tv, and bed. When we moved from the apartment we stayed at his buddy’s house where he rented a room but guess what? He’d send us down to the basement all day to watch tv, and let us up for meals.

When my stepmom came into the picture, we started going to Canada. On every single one of his weekends. She was nice, at first. Sooner or later everyone shows their true colors. But she started slowly to get a hold of my dad. (My dad had no boundaries with us and she wanted to “help” my dad learn to discipline, but she’s a little extreme.) I once got punished for saying the word “butt” because we only say, “bum” and he yelled at me. Yelled. I was about 7 or 8. Then I heard my future step mother telling him how good he did. Also while we were there, I remember very few times we actually hung out with my dad. It was always being shoved into the playroom with my brother, future stepsister, and sometimes future stepbrother. (Step mom never had full custody of stepbrother.) We’d never leave the playroom other than for meals like the TV. But at least we weren’t rotting our brains, I guess.

After awhile he decided he wanted 50/50 custody. My stepmom at this point could be brutal emotionally. I remember getting yelled at for not knowing any of my immediate family member’s birthdays. I was about 8 or 9. Kind of shitty don’t you think? Going back to the wanting 50/50 custody, he didn’t actually want us. Looking back I understand this now. He just didn’t want to pay as much child support, and that’s probably the only reason my step mom agreed to this. They treated us (my brother and i) horribly. He moved close to my mom’s to prove he’d be willing to do the 50/50 custody, and at that point it was hell. If we did something wrong, immediately we’d get soap in the mouth. My brother later on was getting hot sauce. It would be for things such as, “not sharing with your step sister,” (which she would’ve lied about) or “talking back,” when as a kid I was asking a simple question about their rules. They had so many rules to the point you didn’t realize you were breaking a rule until they told you it was one. My *fondest* memory was when they’d send us kids to the basement for a few hours during the weekend and then got mad when we went through boxes and such to find toys to play with. Because when they first sent us down there, they sent us down there with nothing at all. Sure we probably shouldn’t have gone through boxes, where my brother and I found our toys that they never put with our step sister’s toys, but they sent us down there with nothing at all. They expected us to “imagine” things with no toys. I also got yelled at one weekend because they asked us to clean our bathrooms. (Step sister and I shared a Jack and Jill bathroom and my brother had his own bathroom as well.) We went and picked things up and went back to play. They both yelled at us and said, “If I had meant pick up I would’ve said pick up. I said CLEAN.” At this point I had never cleaned a bathroom in my life. They gave us the cleaning supplies and we went to work. I did what I thought was the best I could do and then my stepmom yells at me, “That wasn’t nearly long enough!!!! Haven’t you ever cleaned a bathroom before?!” Uh no ma’am, I was literally 10. But that was her favorite way to make us feel like shit. To yell, “Haven’t you done XY&Z before?” Or “You don’t know (blank)?! So disrespectful! You should know these things!” (That was said about the birthdays. Again I was a decently young kid.) But going forward, towards the end of them living there, they had a baby together, my other brother J.

Luckily for my brother and I, he eventually gave up going for the 50/50 custody. But with doing this, he left and we didn’t see him for a long time. 5-6 years approximately. I was 15 when he decided he wanted to see us again, and because of everything we had gone through before, we didn’t want to. I had a choice but my brother didn’t, and I was forced to go.

At this point he had married my stepmother, and was living in the same subdivision, and one road away, where had had a house with my mom when they were married. Kind of awkward but ok.

And I have to say, they were better. To a point. They wanted us to feel bad that we didn’t want to be there. At the time I had a really old phone, not a smart phone, that didn’t lock, but they expected my phone to be on the counter at 9pm every night. They read my texts and held them against me, but when I called them out on reading my texts, they told me I was crazy. I would text my friends that I didn’t want to be there, and that I was uncomfortable. They asked me, “Why don’t you want to be here? Why are you uncomfortable? We understand what we did in the past was wrong, but the past is the past and you have to forgive us!” (One wrong thing I was always taught was you always have to forgive. You don’t always have to forgive for things that hurt you.) Finally at the end of this period, they sat us down and tried to make us feel bad by saying, “If you don’t want to be here, we don’t want you here. We want you to want to be here.” At 15 I tried to explain why this was hard, but they didn’t care. It wasn’t their way so they weren’t ok with it.

Fast forward to my Senior Year of high school, I don’t remember how, but my father and I got in touch. My step mom wanted nothing to do with me because of a dumb YouTube video I made at 14 where I “talked shit” about her daughter and herself. Yes, I did, but who didn’t do something dumb at 14? I wasn’t allowed around their house because HER son had a “drug problem.” (Marijuana) Whatever, I didn’t care. Slowly we lost touch because I was the only one calling, and I got sick of it. I was done. But I was still young.

Fast forward to me being a sophomore in college. I was 20 or 21. My brother had an issue that got the police and CPS involved. My father decided to text me and ask me what was going on. I called him and told him that he had “no fucking reason to know what was going on” because he was never around. He gaslighted me into feeling bad because I cussed him out for 10 minutes. But we kept contact after that because I had thought about it and I wanted to get to know my little brother J more. We did lose contact again but then we gain it back later on.

Skip forward a couple years and I’m talking to my cousin, (another thing was he kept us from his side of the family and I had lost contact with most of them until I was an adult.) my cousin told me he was going to MY little BABY sister’s 1st birthday. My father had been talking to me for a few months at this point and NEVER mentioned I had a baby sister. He told me, “I thought your aunt posted about it. I saw it on Facebook and assumed you knew!” It doesn’t matter whether I saw it on Facebook or not. He should’ve told me. But whatever, I let that go too.

Here is where I get frustrated. I wouldn’t call for a couple weeks because I didn’t think about it. I’ve only seen him twice in the past 9 years. But he would blame me for us not talking, when he’d never call or try to talk to me. It drives me crazy when people think like that. It’s not just my responsibility and mine alone.

Skip forward to a few months ago when he brought up politics. I hated this because I’m mostly liberal/democrat and he’s 100% republican. He called liberals “libtards” and goes, “you’re not a libtard are you?” And when I tell him it’s offensive he says, “It’s just a joke!” But now we’re here and yet again it’s been 2 or 3 months since we’ve spoken because he’s blocked my number. It goes straight to voicemail and my texts aren’t going through as iMessages. I’ve decided after trying for over two months, he’s uninvited to the wedding. He’s never met my fiancé, ever. We were only inviting him to be civil. But if he can’t even speak to me, I feel it’s not my problem, and it’s one less drama issue to worry about at the wedding.

My family can believe what they want. There are so many things left out of this 15 year drama circle of my father just disappearing. And I don’t care anymore. I hope someone asks why he wasn’t invited because I know for a fact he’ll be at least telling the whole family that he wasn’t invited. And I don’t mind sending them this so they can know why.

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myhauntedsalem · 3 years

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13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Death, illness and tragedy have long been part of the history of insane asylums, and for as long as they have existed, so too have the scary stories associated with them. From haunted hospitals to sadistic doctors and nurses, psychiatric wards have been the inspiration for many of our favorite horror movies and books. Yet, the true stories told by the psych ward workers below far surpass any horrors that we might have seen at the cinema or read in a book.

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

This was during the night shift, and generally, all the patients’ bedroom doors should be closed. So my mom turned a corner and noticed an open door. She saw a staff member’s legs on the floor, halfway out the doorway.

When she looked into the room, she saw the patient, a woman with a severe postpartum psychiatric disorder, who had just gouged both of her own eyes out with her bare hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding her eyes in her hands.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

The one that got to me the most was a patient who came to us after attempting suicide by sawing both his arms off at the forearm with a table saw. His arms were reattached, fairly successfully too, with only limited impairments in mobility. All I could think was how bad it would have to be to live in his head that sawing his arms off seemed better than that.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

We had a young lady in our custody with quite a few issues. We’ll call her Jane. Jane’s first night at our facility staff doing a bed check found Jane in a puddle of blood. Turns out Jane had been slicing the skin around her shin with her finger nails and was pulling her skin up her leg, essentially de-gloving her calf.

Jane also had a ritual she performed every night before bed. While in her room she would run between walls in her room touching them in a crucifix pattern. After doing this for a few hours she would sit on her bed and go to sleep. This particular night Jane was frantic in her pace, practically running between walls. Our night staff observed the entire interaction and reported Jane screaming late into the night. When the staff went to check on Jane she reported Jane standing in the doorway smiling. The staff asked what was wrong and Jane replied, “what makes you think you are speaking to Jane?”

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

There was one woman there that thought she was a vampire of sorts. She was only allowed out one hour a day, and they had to use safety precautions. She had already attacked and killed at least one hospital worker before these were enacted.

When my Mom asked about her, it was revealed that she had killed at least two of her children, wounded another as well as her husband because she had some sort of physical condition called Porphyria, which apparently made her crave blood.

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

I’m not a psychologist but my friend is. She told me about a patient of hers who was HIV positive and a paranoid schizophrenic. He thought that the nurses who worked at the hospital he was in were trying to kill him, so he would frequently bite his tongue, and spit HIV positive blood into their faces/mouths. When they had to come into contact with him, they were required to wear full masks and gloves.

6. The Only One

I once knew a woman who had spent part of her residency at a psychiatric hospital for people with severe mental conditions. Apparently, the grounds had a lovely, enclosed greenhouse. One day, one of their schizophrenic patients was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, as a heron frantically flew around. It had found its way in and, not being able to escape, it was smashing into the large panes of glass. The man just sat there watching.

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

Once, a fellow female patient told me she found writings under her bed. They were just old, small wooden bed frames with hard mattresses that would make all kinds of noises when you rolled over, but I still wondered what exactly she was doing lying under her bed to find these writings.

When she first told me, I thought it was a joke. But sure enough, one day during group we managed to sneak away, and she showed me. Indeed, there were stories written under her bed. After that, we had everyone check under their own beds, and there was more writing under every single bed.

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

Well, my mother was a nurse that specialized in geriatrics, and she worked for several hospice hospitals for many years. She often described situations at her work with several of the patients. She would say that each person tends to have a very similar “checklist” that they follow right before death. This checklist often ended in a very similar way.

They would get caught talking to someone that wasn’t there. When asked who they (otherwise lucid people) were talking to, they would describe an individual who was already dead. When asked what they were talking about, they would say that their relative wanted to know if they were ready to move on. A pretty common response would be, “Yeah, he/she said that she will take me tomorrow at 3:00.” Well, it would often happen that they would die at the exact time their relatives quoted.

10. The Test Subject

I had an hour-long conversion with a delusional guy who was confined to a mental health facility, and who was probably smarter than I am. Lots of these folks believe that somebody – often the CIA – is either beaming thoughts into their heads, or has implanted a microchip in their brains for this purpose. This guy was offering a very thoughtful argument as to why such claims should not be so quickly dismissed.

“It’s precisely because such delusions are so common that mental patients make the best test subjects,” he said. There he was, confined and protected, constantly observed, his health and behavior documented, and there is zero chance that anyone would ever take his concerns seriously. How else would you test and improve such technology? Does the government not have a strong motivation and a plausible ability to create such a device?

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

As a tech in psych years ago, there was a 7-year-old kid sent to the floor because the mom didn’t know what to do with him. Sadly, common thing to happen, even if the kids don’t have psych issues. Anyway, the mom was shaking and crying, and they had to take the kid into another room. She was genuinely afraid of her own son. She had suspected something was wrong when she kept finding mutilated animals in the backyard, but never heard or saw coyotes or anything around. The neighbors smaller pets started disappearing. The boy had an obsession with knives, hiding them around the house. Denying anything when the mom confronted him. Then when the two started getting into arguments, he would get really violent and hit her, push her down and kick her, threaten to kill her. On multiple occasions she woke up in the middle of the night with him standing beside her bed, staring her in the face. She put extra locks on her bedroom door to feel safe while she slept. The last straw was when she lifted up his mattress and found 50+ knives of all shapes and sizes under there. So she brought him to us.

I remember talking to him, treating him like he was just any other kid that came through. He seemed remarkably normal, until you spoke directly to him. He had this way of looking right through you, or maybe like he didn’t see you at all while you were speaking.

He would respond like a robot, like he was just saying words because that’s what we wanted to hear. And he would always put on this creepy, dead-looking smile. Like all mouth and no eye involvement in the smile. Especially when he would get away with something, like taking another kid’s markers and they couldn’t figure it out. Still gives me chills laying here thinking about him.

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

I was a pharmacy technician at a hospital with a psych ward for some time. We would have to go around with a cart and dispense the patients’ medications, and being a 5’2″ girl, a security guard or male nurse would accompany me, just as a precaution. I never had any real issues other than the occasional death grip onto my arm or manic outbursts, but there was one boy who was entirely different.

His chart said he was nine and he had pale skin, dark hair, and huge bright, green eyes. He always greeted me in the most polite way, asked how I was doing, and always found something different to compliment me on every time. He was extremely well-spoken and mature for his age, so I began looking forward to seeing him, as normal small talk is definitely cherished in that setting. If he saw me outside of his room in the halls, he made sure to say hello and always called me “Miss Jones” or “ma’am.”

One day, a couple of our female nurses saw me pause to chat with him in the hallway, and waved me over to ask if I was out of my mind. Apparently, when he was in kindergarten, he grew an intense attachment to his young female teacher.

This escalated to the point of him calling her “Mom” and leaving notes for her about how he wished he were her son. He had a normal home-life with both parents, and the teacher tried to explain to him that she couldn’t be his mom because that would hurt his real mother’s feelings, and that she already had that job covered.

So, he went home and, killed his own mother in her sleep by cutting her throat, so his teacher could be his mom. The female staff had a general rule of not interacting with him excessively to prevent any kind of attachment from forming.

13. Bugs

Nothing I can say can possibly describe the year I worked in Psychiatric Intensive Care. Creepy isn’t the thing that comes to mind when I think back on it…more heartbreaking and horrifying. But creepiness was a part of it. Especially evening and night shifts, naturally.

There is always something disturbing about watching someone while they hallucinate. You can tell it is 100% real to them, and something about that makes you believe it, on some level. A lot of stories end with, “and of course, I had to look over my shoulder to make sure”. You see the emotions it brings out.

There was a woman that came in and sat down across the table from me for her admission interview. She had bandages all over her arms and scotch tape over her mouth and ears. She looked very uncomfortable and wouldn’t really sit still. When the nurse would ask her a question, she would peel the corner of the tape back and answer, then stick the tape back on really fast.

We eventually found out that she saw and felt bugs crawling all over her, and they were trying to get inside her body. The tape was to keep the bugs out. The bandages were because some bugs got in and she had to dig them out. She couldn’t sit still because she felt the bugs all over her even while we sat and talked. The worst part was, she had some idea that it was her mind playing tricks on her. Can you imagine going through your life, feeling like someone is continuously dumping buckets of cockroaches on your head, feeling like they’re all over you and getting inside of you to the point that you’re digging chunks out of your flesh in a panic, all while knowing intellectually that none of it is real?

#13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and spirits #ghost and hauntings #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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prorevenge · 3 years

Text

Cousin tries to steal my mother's inheritance

The whole story was a few years ago and is very convoluted. In order not to write a novel here, I try to keep things clear and as short as possible. If some things are incomprehensible, I am happy to submit updates upon request.

Yes, we were too trustworthy and in retrospect we should have done more earlier.

The story begins in the early 90s when my parents got divorced. My mother had been given custody of me and my older sister by the court. We moved into my maternal grandmother's house. The house was built by my grandfather in the 50's and had never been renovated. There were 2 apartments in the house. One apartment on the ground floor and one on the 1st floor. My grandma lived in the lower apartment. But even though it was actually too small for a woman with 2 teenage children in the upper apartment, my mother initially wanted us to see the house as 2 separate households. It took my grandma some time to convince my mother to consider the house as a whole as not my grandmothers, but ours.

My mother and grandma decided not only to renovate the house, but also to refurbish it. But before that could happen, something important had to be clarified.

Because my grandfather had built the house and he died without writing his last will, the house was not legally owned by my grandmother at the time, but belonged in part to my mother and her sister (let's call her Estelle)

My grandma bought Estelles share.

The 40-year-old stove heating was replaced by a floor heating that was modern at the time, windows were renewed, old pipes and cables were replaced and much more. My mother put all of the money my father gave her after the divorce into the house. Among other things, she paid off an old loan that was still on the house.

In order not to repeat my grandfather's mistake, the three made a will. The share in the house that belongs to my grandmother should go to my mother after her death, as she lived in the house and contributed significantly to its value through her investment. Estelle should get a large amount of money and everything else my grandma owns should be divided equally between the two.

Fast forward to 2015. My mother had retired and took care 24/7 of her mother, who is suffering from dementia. The alternative of putting my grandma in a nursing home was out of the question for us. As long as it was somehow possible, my mother wanted my grandma to stay in the house that she built with her husband and that she called home. I haven't lived in the house for a long time, but I still visited whenever I could to relieve my mother of work. But these opportunities are few and far between, as I live and work around 2 hours away by car. So I was all the more pleased that my mother got help with housework for a few hours a week. This domestic help (let's call her Nadine) is the girlfriend of Estelles son Tim.

When Tim was a Teenager he had fallen out with his father and most of our family had very few contacts with him. He showed up once a year, called on our grandmas’ birthday and on Christmas. For over 20 years, he was, besides these 3 occasions, basically nonexistent.

Nadine works full time in a nursing home. After having been in the hospital for a few days, my grandma was supposed to be in that very nursing home for a while. The insurance companies offer this option so that caregiving relatives should be able to recover for a few days themselves and my mother really needed the break.

But my mother was not granted this break. On the second day, in her demented confusion, she crawled under her room neighbor's bed and did not let the nursing staff lure her out from under it. Nadine then called Tim, who came by. While playing hide and seek, my grandma was slightly injured and was taken back to the hospital. After that, she refused to go back to the nursing home, and my mother gave in and took her home.

In the next few months, it was 2016 then, Tim appeared once a week to, as he said, “take care of grandma”. This “taking care” consisted of going to Grandma, who was sitting in her TV chair, holding her hand, asking if everything was okay and driving off 15 minutes later.

At this point I would like to emphasize again that my mother has basically sacrificed herself since 2011 to look after her mother in need of care. She never moved more than 50 meters from my grandma without someone to take her place. Both my grandmother's doctor and the official auditors in charge of the nursing service had certified my mother that my grandmother was doing great under her supervision.

Estelle's birthday was in March. My mother told me later that Estelle had advised her in a conversation that she should put some money aside for the time when Grandma is no longer there.

Nadine celebrated his birthday in July. Since my grandmother was again spending a few days in short-term care at that time so that my mother could recover a little, Tim offered to pick up grandma for the party.

And in August the mood changed.

Estelle expressed concern that my grandma's confusion was really dementia and instead suggested that grandma was in her condition because of poor care from my mother. Tim was increasingly aggressive towards my mother. In a conversation I insisted on participate, he accused my mother of embezzling my grandmother's money and evading taxes. And although I am a peace-loving person, I lost my composure a little and I was only a blink away from beating him.

After we calmed down again, I suggested that instead of just coming by for 15 minutes a week and spreading accusations, he should really take care of Grandma and look after her for a week at a time.

He agreed.

Two weeks later, Tim and Tim's brother appeared with his family and picked up Grandma for a visit to a fair.

When they came back they told my mother that they had ordered a new TV chair for Grandma and that my mother should pay for it with her money. The reason was that my mother “lived rent-free in Grandma's house” and practically doesn’t do anything. Since my grandmother was so “gracious to take in a mother and her two children” she was entitled to the money, my mother supposedly saved on rent.

A few weeks later my mother had an appointment and asked Estelle to take care of Grandma during that time. When she came back there was also a note on the table. Estelle had taken grandma with her to look after her. First a week to try out.

The joy that my mother had about the free time she gained quickly vanished when it turned out two days later that Estelle took the opportunity to go to her bank with my grandmother to revoke my mother the right to access my grandmother's account. We only found out about it by accident.

A few days later Estelle appeared accompanied by Tim, his two siblings and their families and got clothes, jewelry and everything valuable that my grandmother owned. They said that my grandma wanted to stay with Estelle now because she couldn't stand my mother anymore.

The mood between my mother and grandma had deteriorated noticeably in the months since the first stay at the nursing home. At first, we assumed that the dementia was getting worse.

A few days later, 9 people came to my mother's home. Including my grandmother, Estelle, Tim, Ts. siblings and their family. When my mother was about to let 2 visitors out of the door, one of the group stormed through the open front door, pushing my mother and sister aside and demanding that they leave the (lower) apartment immediately. They supposedly had no right to be there and are only allowed to stay in the upper apartment.

A neighbor saw the incident and called the police. The group convinced the police that my mother actually lived in the apartment upstairs and had no right to be downstairs. To this day I still don't understand why the policeman accepted it that way. In any case, he asked my mother to leave the lower apartment until the matter was legally clarified. The police then disappeared. The group then took the opportunity to exchange the lock and searched the apartment for incriminating material that they could use against my mother. Unsurprisingly, they didn't find anything. My mother hadn't done anything wrong.

The day after, my mother went to see a lawyer to give her access to the home again. After a week back and forth, my relatives agreed to let my mother back into the apartment.

They cleared the furniture out of the apartment beforehand, because they thought it belonged to my grandmother, and switched back to the old locks.

Since they were 9 again and my mother had a nervous breakdown from the whole affair anyway and was on the verge of the 2nd, I wanted to receive the key in her place. However, they insisted that my mother personally collect the key.

Since I could already imagine why my relatives insisted of being in a group of 9 to give the key to a 70 year old woman personally, I had an idea. I picked up my smartphone in a clearly visible position and activated the recording function.

As I expected, most of them noticed my cell phone and remained silent. All except my grandma. Although she could hardly see anything, she recognized me and wanted to talk to me. She accused me and my mother of plotting against her. That she always supported me and she couldn't understand how we could do that to her. It broke my heart to hear what monsters my mother and I had become in her mind. But I knew that this was the dementia talking. I listened patiently and tried to explain what she had misunderstood, but I also knew that she had sunk too far in her illness to convince her of the truth.

One of the allegations in that conversation was that my mother and I wanted her out of the house. As already written that was not the case. But I have to be grateful today that my grandma said that. Estelle was sitting next to her at the time and reflexively replied "It wasn't him, the others."

At the time, I was too fixated on my grandma that I hadn't even noticed. Fortunately, I had my phone in my hand the whole time. When I listened to the conversation a while later, it finally clicked and I could slap myself today for not noticing it earlier:

Since the incident at the nursing home, the mood between my mother and grandma had deteriorated noticeably. We had blamed it on dementia, but now it was clear to us that in her condition between dementia and the strong painkillers she was taking, my relatives had talked her into believing some conspiracy against her.

My mother then applied for guardianship for my grandma. In Germany it is regulated in such a way that it is first checked whether the care is necessary. That was a relatively straightforward matter.

Then a judge has to check whether there is a possibility that a relative will take over the guardianship. This test was an on-site appointment at Estelle

As I could deduct from the court papers, the judge was of the opinion relatively quickly that family-internal guardianship was not possible. The decisive factor was apparently, among other things, the aggressive behavior of my relatives towards my mother, whereby the judge was almost injured with a burning cigarette.

Mrs. G. was declared to be my grandmother's guardian. A few weeks after Mrs. G. took over her job, she paid my mother a visit.

Ms. G. said that she was amazed when she met my mother for the first time. After all, she wasn't the hell spawn my relatives described her. We learned that Estelle's family had apparently spread wild rumors about my mother in town. We also learned that apparently my grandmother's set up a new will.

Since my mother lives in a small town, it didn't take long to find out that Tim was named the sole heir in the new will. Nadine had said the same to a friend and if you know someone who knows someone…. Small town.

My grandma died in July 2017. Shortly afterwards, I drove to the court to deposit my grandma's will there so that it could take effect. The lady there said there would already be another recent will. I still insisted on depositing the old one.

The will was opened a few weeks later. We saw for the first time what we are dealing with.

The new will was drawn up by a notary which is normally better than a handwritten will from over 20 years ago. In the will, Tim is established as the sole heir with Estelle in the 2nd position (in the event that Tim would have died before my grandmother). Not a word about the fact that part of my mother's house already belonged to her, instead she was only given a right to live in the upper apartment. But the real shock came when we saw the date. The will was written in July 2016. On the day when Tim and Estelle had so generously agreed to pick up Grandma from the nursing home. When they were still trying to pretend everything was fine and their “only concern was Grandma's well-being”.

I made an appointment with an inheritance lawyer. The lawyer first wanted to convince my mother to only sue for her legal inheritance claim and to otherwise accept the will. Challenging a notarial will is one of the most difficult cases you can try in German courts and it takes a lot of evidence to do that.

My time to shine. It took me almost an hour to convince the lawyer that my grandma had dementia and that the new will is therefore invalid. Doctor's reports that certify dementia back in 2011. The report for the guardianship. Every minute I presented her with new documents and in the end she is ready to go into battle with us.

So the matter goes to court, which means that the lawyers write letters back and forth. In one of the letters, Tim's lawyer mentions that there is an assessment from a doctor A. that clearly confirms that my grandma did not have dementia. That would contradict the evidence I submitted to my lawyer. So the court commissioned a new, independent expert assessment.

Although I had a lot of evidence and the behavior of my grandmother was always a clear sign of dementia for me, we waited a little nervously for the assessment.

We receive the assessment and what can I say, I haven't read anything so beautiful and sad at the same time for a long time. It is sad because the expert quotes from many reports that describe what my grandma was going through after she was brought to Estelles house. Nice because the appraiser completely dismantled the other side's argument. For every argument that the other side has come up with by then, the appraiser has evidence to invalidate it. Most impressive is the fact that the alleged report by Doctor A. is completely worthless to the other side. On the contrary, the doctor was so incompetent that he accidentally not only failed to refute my grandmother's dementia, he even confirmed it.

So there is a court date. The appraiser, Doctor A. and the notary who wrote the will are present.

A. is given the opportunity to defend his "report" before the judge. And he only makes it worse. It is going too far to explain that now. In any case, A. made it clear to the judge that he had no idea how to carry out the test.

Then it's the notary's turn. When he testified, it turns out that there were 2 appointments with him and my grandma. And in their attempt to look particularly good in front of the judge, Estelle and Tim admit that they were both present at both appointments. Not only that, apparently the conversation and further coordination between the notary and my grandmother went completely through Estelle’s hands.

The trial ends and my mother's lawyer is overjoyed. She explains to me that if there were any doubts that the new will does not reflect the will of my grandma, these are finally resolved by the statement of the notary.

A few days later, the judge gives the verdict and it's even better than expected.

The house was awarded to my mother.

Tim is no longer entitled to even one cent from my grandma's inheritance.

All claims that Estelle could still make against my mother, i.e. both the stated sum of money from the old will and possible claims under the law, are offset against what was in his possession at the time of my grandma's death. So she has some old furniture, clothes, some jewelry, etc. And what it looks like so far, that means that's all she can hope for.

tl;dr My cousin tried to cheat my mother out of her inheritance. Didn't work out for him in the end.

(source) story by (/u/Sam_Ronin)

#prorevenge #by /u/Sam_Ronin #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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writefinch · 3 years

Text

Family-Owned Small Business

(CN: incest, sex work, mentions of sexual assault & suicidal ideation)

The worst part of my job is administration. Last-minute rescheduling when a client flakes on us. Chasing up payments. Booking accommodation at short notice. Answering messages! Jesus, every time in the last year when I've slumped, sighed, and thought to myself "fuck working, I need a break from all this" it's been when I've opened my messages and seen thirty different texts that need a reply. Some people are fine with it I guess, but for me it's boring, time consuming, and stressful.

Big deal though, right, I mean nobody loves doing admin, why even bring it up? Well, if I tell someone that for work last night I ate a client's cum out of my mom's pussy, I'd expect that they'd get fixated on the sex work and the incest. I'd expect them to freak out and not pay attention to the specifics of what I'm saying. So, first, I'd like that person to know that the thing I hate about my job is probably the same thing that *they* hate about *their* job. I would rather lick my mom's asshole for five minutes than answer emails for five minutes, and I answer a lot of emails.

Do we have to worry about violence, danger, cops, and legal trouble? Yeah, we do. Am I scared of these things? Yeah, sometimes, but I had to worry about all of those things before I started doing sex work. At least now we've got the money to buy our way out of the worst of it.

I'm not saying that what I do with mom is an objectively healthy relationship, let alone a perfect one. If you took me back in time and told me I could pick a completely different life for me and my mom, I'm sure there's a bunch of choices I'd pick over this one. But I never had that choice. I got hurt a lot growing up. I feel like I've finally escaped the things that hurt me, but I know that I've barely started to recover from them.

That's why I'm writing this. We've saved enough money to afford some therapy and my first session is next week. I want help with the fear, the nightmares, the mood swings and insomnia, I want to stop the rush of rage and terror that flows through me every time I see the word 'dad,' I want help untangling the stuff that came out of being told I was a pansy when I was growing up, then figuring out I'm gay, then figuring out I'm a girl, then figuring out I'm all three of those things while I was living in a place that kept trying to kill me for it. What I don't want is for the psych to pin it all on the two least harmful and least fucked-up things about my life, and worse, I don't want them to make me believe it. This journal is a prophylactic, an assessment of my job, my relationships and my life that I can refer back to if and when someone sticks their fingers in my brain and swirls them around.

I'll start with a problem statement: my dad. The memories that hurt the most are the ones where he almost appeared human, the flickers of joy, curiosity and humor that stood out from the bland cruelty that made up the rest of his personality. I'll remember him buying me ice cream or talking about a book or a movie with me, I'll doubt myself and wonder if I just went crazy and cut him out of my life for no reason, and then my brain will hook onto a random act of sadism he inflicted on me.

The physical abuse was bad all on its own, real psycho shit like driving me out into the woods and making me pick through the brush for a switch he could hit me with and a whole lot more I won't go into, but the emotional abuse was worse. When I was eleven, I forgot to feed my cat one day. He gave her away to my uncle, but told me that she'd developed malnutrition and had to be put down. I didn't find out the truth for another two years, when he just let it slip at Easter. He bragged about it, even, like he'd invented a really smart child-rearing technique. I don't want to write too much down here because I don't need to, if anything I want therapy to *stop* everything he did from running through my head. He's a punishment-obsessed sadist, a Baptist, and he works as a judge. Did he ever sexually abuse me? No. Parent of the year, right? He kicked me out for being a fag the day I turned eighteen, so it's ironic that my biggest fear is that he comes looking for me. He doesn't even know I'm a girl.

On the other hand, my mom has had an interesting life. She's kind of a fuck up. When I was one year old, mom and dad split and dad got full custody--being a judge helped with that--while mom left the state. She spent a decade trying to kick a heroin habit and a year and a half in prison for related stuff, got banned from even entering the state I lived in on account of her parole--again, dad being a judge helped with that--illegally emigrated to Canada for a while, and went to Oregon by mistake, doing a mixture of bartending, delivery driving, MDMA dealing and whoring to stay afloat.

The only reason we met again is that I was in the same city staying with friends, also whoring. I don't remember the first time I saw her, but the first time we talked was in a mutual friend's tiny studio apartment with a few other hooker friends. We ended up comparing our Pest Lists, shared a few drinks, and swapped numbers. A week later we fucked, and a month after *that* we realized that we'd Oedipus'd ourselves. It seems funnier now than it did at the time.

That was an emotional time. We cried with joy that we'd found each other, we started tip-toeing around the ideas of rebuilding our lives together, and we agreed to pretend that the sex had never happened. Of course, we got drunk together a week later and fucked again. She's hot! I have a thing for older women, I have a thing for breaking taboos, and I have a thing for being mommied in bed. Blame dad for raising me like this, I dunno.

We started doing sex work as a team after she got a dental abscess. The bill for the hospital stay and the tooth removal was insane, and the dentist straight-up told her that she'd end up with another in a different tooth within a year if she didn't get two root canals. Even when she was recovering, we could only afford fish antibiotics off of Amazon. We crunched some numbers and made some inquiries, and figured out that we could pull in two week's worth of our combined income with one night of mother-daughter stuff.

Our first joint session was with a real estate pervert I'll call Stan, a chubby balding powerlifter in his fifties who we'd both had as a client before. Mom took me over her knees and switched between spanking me and fingering me while he watched. I sucked him off while mom made out with him, made out with my mom with his cock between our lips, licked his balls as mom licked my ass, then let him fuck my ass while mom sat on my face. That was the first half hour. He came six more times before we passed out in the early hours of the morning, and I drifted off nursing his finally-limp cock in my mouth. He paid us the price of a used Volkswagen for our trouble, and I blew him one last time before we left as a thank-you.

Six months later, mom's teeth were fixed, I was on spiro, and we had just under a dozen clients for our "doubles sessions." Only a few of our appointments are ones with me and mom together, three or four a month, we mostly work alone. That's not out of a deliberate choice, it's just that we've got a strict criteria for who we'll double up on.

Trust is one thing: depending on the lawyers we can afford, what we're doing is either kinda illegal or extremely illegal. Since my dad is presumably still a judge, I don't want him to ever find out about this. He'd put us in a prison or a mental institution. We won't do a double session with a client unless we've both had individual sessions with them.

Money is the other thing. Getting your dick sucked by a hot mom while her daughter sucks your balls costs a week's wages for the average person. Hiring us for the night is more like a month's wages. Even in a city like this, there's only a few thousand people that can drop that kind of money on hookers. Then, they've got to *want* to fuck a trans girl and her mom together. Don't get me wrong, more people are into mother-daughter incest than you'd expect, but it's not a universal thing.

Clients are, on average, annoying. It's a fact of life. The thing that all clients have in common is a ton of disposable income and a fondness for fucking hookers. They're not necessarily bad people, but there’s a heavy ‘What can a banana cost, ten dollars?’ vibe to them. It’s not that they’re adrenochrome-drinkers who don’t see regular people as human, it’s more that they don’t have an intuitive awareness that other people don’t have savings accounts, health insurance, an investment property, and four figures of walking-around money at any given time. I guess I'd feel differently if I was like, a concierge or a PA, but there's a lot more pillow talk in my job.

I've had bad and dangerous clients before, there's been at least two occasions where I was pretty sure I was going to die--one where the hospital afterwards stay wiped out four months of income, not counting the month where I couldn’t work--but they were all before I met mom, when I couldn't be so careful about screening prospective clients and dropping them if they threw up red flags. I'm sure we'll get bad clients in the future, but we're in a better place to deal with them safely.

I also wanna write down what a "normal day" is like. Friday was a good example. I woke up early at 9am and cooked breakfast for mom. She was up already doing the laundry. We entertain some clients in our apartment, so we go through a lot of clothes and a lot of sheets. You can't fuck a guy on top of another guy's cum stains, that's rude. Some of the job is Housework But More. We don't really use the main bedroom or the sitting room because we treat them like bed and breakfast guest rooms. It's annoying but every time we have a session without getting an actual hotel or motel room we save like $50 minimum.

After breakfast I epilated, showered, and went for a run. Personal grooming isn't that big a deal in terms of time, I'm not saying I don't spend a lot of time on it, I do, but I'd be spending that time even if I worked in a bar or an office or something. Look: I'm hot. I might have been a weird-looking spotty nerd when I thought I was a boy, but as a girl I'm a fucking dime. I could get like, 25% uglier before it had any impact on my earnings. The only part of personal grooming that's necessary for sex work and I wouldn't do all the time anyway is power-washing my guts an hour before every session.

After lunch, mom went to see some friends and I played Magic for a few hours. At two pm, the actual work started. I picked up the work phone for the first time that day and began answering texts. An hour later I'd cancelled the 6pm appointment, blocked out all of Sunday evening, checked in with a few regulars, and provisionally moved three guys to the 'Time Wasters' list.

I spent a while sexting with a good prospect. He was a good prospect because he paid up-front for the sexting instead of treating it like a free samples platter at Costco. We scheduled a tentative appointment for next Tuesday, when his wife would be out of town on a business trip. Most of the guys I fuck have kinks, and I swear that 'cheating on your wife with a sex worker' is the most common one there is. Do I feel bad about it? At my hourly rate, absolutely not.

Mom got back at half four, so I took a break. We made tacos for lunch together and ate while watching Billions. She nudged me and told me that I need to do my injection, and, well, we have a little ritual for that. I'm scatterbrained and I'm not great with needles, but mom has been incredibly supportive with my HRT, and when I told her I was having problems taking them on time, she came up with a way to make me as comfortable as possible. As soon as the needle is ready, I laid down in her lap and she cradled my head in her arms, pressing her bare chest against my face. I took a nipple into my mouth and nursed it softly while she stroked my hair. She called me a good girl, telling me how proud she is of her daughter, how much she loves me, and asked if I was going to take my medicine like a big girl. On good days I inject myself while she pets me and coos over me, and on bad days she takes the needle and does it for me. As soon as I dropped the needle in the sharps container, mom pressed a Hitachi against my cock and took one of my nipples into her mouth, called me her big brave girl, and asked if I was gonna cum for mommy.

As usual, the answer was yes.

Late afternoon and early evening is when the messages start flowing in, especially on Fridays, when the kinds of people with hooker money have either left work early and thinking about getting laid, or are still held up at work and are desperately thinking about getting laid. This kind of messaging gets trickier, because it comes down to what I'm providing. Like, setting up a session is the kind of normal administrative stuff that's baked into the price of a session. It's also partly a sales job, so I'm naturally flirty and solicitous, and because I do sex work I talk openly about sex.

However, *sexting* is not normal administrative stuff. If I'm sending you messages for jerking-off purposes, I can charge by the hour or by the text but I will insist on charging for it. Also, it's not just sex that me and mom provide. There's a reason that 'companionship' is an old euphemism for whoring, it's because whores are good company. I'm a good listener and I don't judge, which means I'm like the fun parts of a therapist but without all the homework and self-improvement. I'm (unsurprisingly) friendly with all of my clients, and I have more than a few clients and former clients who I'd consider good friends and vice versa. I talk to a bunch of them outside of a business context, especially the ones I met outside of my job, and that's a normal part of maintaining a pool of clients for any sales job, but on the other hand... it's a demand on my time and it's a part of my services. I can and have bluntly told guys that they're wasting my time when it comes to uncompensated sexting, but the platonic stuff requires a lighter touch.

One of my regulars, Fintech Pete, sent me a message. Two messages later, he sent me $100, and we're off. Describing in gratuitous detail exactly how I'm going to suck his cock, begging him to fuck me until my clit is drooling all over the sheets, sending him feet pics, things of that nature. Pete is great for sexting because he barely jerks off while he's doing it, he saves all the messages and pictures and jerks off to them later, because he's got some biohacking routine where he only cums once a week. He said once that part of the reason he hires sex workers is that he takes each nut a lot more seriously if he's paying three digits minimum for the privilege. He does this teleconferencing report with the board of directors at his company four times a year, and every time he hires me to kneel under the desk in his home office and suck him off while he makes his presentation.

Anyway, while we were going back and forth like that, he mentioned that I'd made a joke one time about doing a joint session with my mom. I told him it wasn't a joke, and to cut a long story short, half an hour later I was asking mom if she was up for an overnight session starting at 9pm. She agreed, Pete confirmed, so we both got ready--think getting dolled up for a night out but with a more thorough enema--and drove to his place. He lived outside of town in a two-bedroom suburban home, alone with his two dogs.

As soon as we were parked in his garage I did the safety call in front of him: I rang a friend of mine, told her we were visiting a friend, told her it was at the address I sent her earlier, and told her we'd call her again tomorrow morning. Was it really necessary to do that with someone like Fintech Pete? No, but practice makes permanent. If you let these things slip when there's no danger, eventually they'll slip when there is danger.

Now, I don't want to imply that I'm in a lot of danger! There's a reason that most of the faces you'll see on the Trans Day of Remembrance are of poor black and brown women, because real danger comes when you can't turn skeevy jobs, when you can't afford to take precautions, when you have to make the choice over and over between maybe starving and maybe getting murdered. I'm white, I've got a good support network, and I've been relatively lucky in that I can do all these things to minimize my risks. I've still got to do them, though! Things like safety calls are a good habit to get into and it helps all sex workers if there's an expectation that they've all got someone looking out for them.

...I get that there is some bravado creeping into this journal. I start off saying that admin is the worst part of the job and a page later I flippantly mention that the job has put me in the hospital. On a day to day basis yeah, the admin is the bit that sucks the most, but if you offered me a deal where the admin is twice as bad but I never took that session, I’d take it in a heartbeat. This job has left me with some scars. Any time something cold touches my wrist I get a vivid flash of the first time I had my hands zip-tied behind my back in a cop car. I've had nightmares all my life, and more than a few of my nightmares are about stuff that's happened since I got into sex work.

If it seems like I’m downplaying it, it’s because the harrowing stuff is where the job has gone wrong, it’s not baked into the everyday stuff, and most importantly it has nothing to do with my mom. The work I've done with her is some of the least stressful and dangerous I've had since I started this job, and whatever wounds I have, she's not the one who caused them.

On a more positive note, a cool thing about doing sessions with my mom is that we can dress pretty conservatively and still have it come off as insanely lewd. Mom wore a black cocktail dress with an imitation pearl necklace and her hair up in a bun, I was in a white blouse under a lambswool sweater, a pleated short skirt, cheap dark tights--Pete has a thing for tearing them--and patent leather shoes. When you're going to suck a guy's world entirely off alongside your mom, the more modestly you're dressed, the more perverted it looks. Out in the suburbs it also means you get to avoid the microskirts and fishnets look which screams to the neighbors 'I've just hired a pair of hookers' or the mid-range raincoat over microskirts and fishnets look which screams 'I've just hired a pair of pricey hookers."

Pete's living room looks like the back room of a Radio Shack, computer guts everywhere, every surface turned into a makeshift workbench. It's not a suitable place for lovemaking; I don't want to have to pull shards of a soundcard out of my perineum. His bedroom is a lot neater, with a king-sized bed to sit on, a ton of pillows to lounge up against, and a TV mounted on the wall. Mom poured out some wine, a mid-range red zinfandel that we'd picked up on the way, Pete brought out some imported dark chocolate that costs like $40/kg, and I swung my legs over his lap and turned on the Food Network. I took a bite of chocolate, mom took a sip of wine, and before either of us swallowed she pulled me into a deep kiss, mixing the wine and the chocolate. It's a good combination, and Pete enjoyed the show.

The night started off with chatting. None of us were in any rush, not with an overnight session, and since Pete has been a client for each of us for a while it was a pretty relaxed atmosphere. Pete's fingers danced over my thighs, absent-mindedly plucking ladders into the fabric as we talked baseball, business, sex work, the difference between the gentrified fag bar downtown and the really gentrified fag bar downtown, programming and other nerd shit, local politics, the contestants on Cutthroat Kitchen, just normal stuff. Mom and Pete started talking about fancy cooking stuff so I started annoying them both by claiming that sardines are just fully-grown anchovies, that DOP labels are all fake, and that instant grits are better than the regular ones until mom jabbed me with a finger and told me that my mouth should be put to better use elsewhere.

You know how some people say "Cilantro tastes like soap, that's why it's good?" Same thing for how weird it feels to go down on my mom. The first time I ever jerked off, watching a 144p clip of Rocco Sifreddi fucking a girl in the ass while flushing her head down a toilet bowl, knowing that this meant I was going to go to Hell unless I begged God for forgiveness and never did it again, I came so hard I passed out. It feels good, it feels wrong that it feels so good, and it feels even better because it feels so wrong.

She was already wet when I got between her legs. I kissed her clit and started licking, her bush tickling my nose and her thighs squeezing my ears. Fabric rasped over my head as she hiked her dress up to run her hand through my hair. Everything was muffled but I could hear kissing and clinking, and I knew that mom was undoing Pete's belt and jeans to give him a Catholic-quality handjob.

I got mom worked up, bucking her hips and getting all breathy, until she asked me to get up here and give her some help. I crawled up to his groin and winked up at him. He blushed and grinned back. Pete's not a bad-looking guy. I mean, I don't care about looks in general, I guess I can look at someone and say that objectively they're ugly, and if someone is beautiful it adds something to the experience, but like... it doesn't really figure into it. Obviously most johns don't look like supermodels but they're not uniformly ugly, as I said before the thing that johns have in common is being horny guys with a lot of disposable income. Still, Pete is towards the better-looking side of that scale.

...Okay there is one thing about him that's weirdly common for my clients, I call it 'John Balding:' where a guy is losing his hair but in a slow, uneven, and kinda weird pattern, so that even when they cross into being more bald than not, they never bite the bullet and shave it all off. Pete is only like 30% of the way through that process so it doesn't look terrible yet, but he's on that track.

Anyway, back to the sex. A fun thing about double blowjobs is that you can take them a whole lot slower than solo blowjobs. Me and mom have had a lot of practice so we go at about 1/4th speed and it feels twice as good. She started off by wrapping her hand around the shaft, slowly stroking it while she softly kissed the tip, and I licked his balls, gently lapping at one, then the other, cleaning away the day's sweat and musk, carefully taking both of them into my mouth at once. Mom swallowed half his length, and I started kissing my way up his shaft as she pulled back up, my lips touching the head as hers reached the very tip. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me into a deep French kiss with his cock in the middle, precum mixing with spit, moaning as we felt him twitch and grunt, mom's hand on his balls and my hand on his shaft. We broke the kiss and repeated it in reverse, taking his cock in my throat as mom kissed her way down to his balls. He came after five minutes of gentle little schoolgirl kisses on each side of his cock from the pair of us. The first rope caught mom on her cheek, the second hit her hair, but I wrapped my lips tight around the head and sucked him dry before he could spill another drop.

You can't give a client a mother-daughter blowjob and not snowball the cum back and forth in front of him. We've done it enough times to get the timing down: wait until he sits up straight, because if you don't he'll be too dazed from nutting in your mouth to really appreciate it. Make sure he's looking at you, move your hair out of the way so it doesn't obstruct his view, open your lips so that a trickle of jizz almost sloshes out, move in close to your mom so that your noses are touching and it's clear that you're about to kiss, sink a palm into her tits as she grabs your ass, and then you gotta really go for it: wide-mouthed, feral, energetic, like you're trying to reach each other's sinuses. If a little bit of cum spills out because you're being so sloppy, that's a sign that you're doing it right. You're going to lick it up afterwards anyway.

We broke the kiss, I licked mom's face clean, and we took a break. We drank some more wine, he offered us cigarettes--the coolest clients are the ones that let you smoke indoors--and we cuddled and relaxed for a while with Guy's Grocery Games playing on the TV. Pete went to get some water, and returned with three bottles and a strip of Cialis. He downed two pills, we both stripped off--it was sweltering by that point--and got ready for the next round.

Mom played with his nipples and I got between his legs again, this time going lower than his balls to eat his ass out. Rimming is a trusted client privilege like the mom-daughter stuff is, except it's less about trusting them in the legal sense and more about trusting that it won't be grainy down there. I like it when a client is clean enough to rim, because I'm extremely good at it. Mom says she's better, she claims she once made a guy no-touch cum with a rimjob, but I don't fucking believe her.

He got hard after a minute of digging my tongue into his ass, but his cock was still super-sensitive so we figured we'd tease him for a while longer. We swapped places, mom ate his ass while he made out with me, squeezing my tits and playing with my cock. I like it when guys touch my tits, my cock is... fine, I guess? I don't viscerally dislike people touching it but it doesn't do much for me. After a minute of that he reaches around and works a finger into my asshole, which is much more my speed.

By the time he was two knuckles deep I looked down and saw his cock twitching, leaking precum onto his stomach. He seemed pretty worked up. I kissed his neck, nipped at his ear, and whispered, "Do you wanna breed me, Mister?"

He sure did.

I use condoms unless I've got an extremely compelling reason not to, and mom has a cool trick for getting them on. She grasped Pete's cock around the base, placed her lips around the tip, deepthroated the entire thing in a single stroke, and as she slowly lifted her head back up, his cock was neatly fitted with a condom.

As soon as I lubed up he put me on my back, pushed my ankles up to my ears, pressed his cock against my hole and sunk into me inch by inch. He muffled my moans with a kiss and rutted me into the bed. I gotta give it to him, all that biohacking and cardio is doing something right because he railed me at a fast, steady pace until my dick was leaking all over my tummy and I couldn't form sentences in my head any more. Mom made out with him as he finished, and at that point I was just babbling nonsense. He was gentle and cautious as he pulled out of me, stroking my hair as I reached down to take off his condom. I poured the contents out over my tits, slumping back against the headboard as mom licked them clean.

It wasn't yet midnight by then, and we went on like that through the night. Licking his feet, mom-daughter 69, him sucking my cock while mom rode his dick like a Sorority cowgirl champion, more wine, more double-blowjobs, tacking an extra $200 onto the fee for the privilege of pissing in my mouth instead of having to get up to go to the bathroom, a whole buffet of fun whore stuff.

We woke up at around ten in the morning, stayed for breakfast, then said our goodbyes. Me and mom thanked him for his custom, and he thanked us for a good time. By midday we were at home, we both showered, checked our calendars, messaged our evening clients to confirm that they were still on, and then... well, the rest of the day kinda evaporated. I played Demons' Souls until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, passed out in bed, and woke up when my alarm went off in the evening.

That's one of the things I don't like about overnight sessions: you're technically only spending like, ten to twelve hours with a client, and for some of that time you're either not fucking or actively asleep, but it kinda feels like it destroys two days. By the time it's scheduled, everything in the rest of the day is either preparing for it or doing it, and when you get back it takes the rest of the day just to recover. I don't like that part of my job, and if I sit down I can probably go through a whole bunch of things I don't like about my job. I still know that my job isn't a *bad* job, because the last time I had a bad job it was at a chicken processing plant. Know how I know that the chicken job was bad? Because I excused myself for a bathroom break four hours into the shift, walked off site, and never came back.

You know what, there's another reason I know that this isn't a bad job and that mom isn't a bad mom, and I guess it's part of the reason I've written all this down in the first place. I was seven years old when I first wanted to die. By the time I got to high school, suicidal thoughts were just the radio static in my brain. I can't remember any point after like, grade school where I didn't daydream about suicide every single day.

Now? I sometimes go for weeks without thinking about killing myself. It hasn't gone away completely, it still pops up when I'm upset or stressed out or tired or really hungry, but what I do is I talk to mom about it, and she talks me out of it. I feel guilty sometimes about putting that pressure on her, and taking that pressure off is part of the reason I'm going to therapy I guess.

I hope it works out.

I really think it will.

#story #stories

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Note

I'm bombarding you with those prompts, so I fully understand if you just ignore all those you don't like, lol. Would WinterIronFalcon be an OT3 you're intrested in writing? Some established WinterFalcon with Tony pining helplessly after them, not believeing he could have a chance? With a dash of angst in it? Thank you ♡

There isn’t much angst in this but there is hopeless pining so yay?

Also on ao3 here

“Share Bear, it’s not fair,” Tony whines into the phone.

“What isn’t?” his cousin asks, sounding patient but also kind of amused. He takes the phone away from his ear and squints at it. Is she making fun of him? She probably is, Sharon always makes fun of him. She’s mean like that; he’s pretty sure she gets it from Natasha.

“They’re so fucking gorgeous, I can’t stand it.”

“Oh. Them again. Seriously Tony, didn’t you used to have better taste?”

“Excuse you,” he says, offended. “My taste is perfect.”

“They think arguing is foreplay.”

“It’s bickering! And it’s cute!”

“Gross,” Sharon says cheerfully.

“God hates me,” Tony says dramatically, flinging his hand over his eyes. “That’s why he cursed me to work with two such beautiful humans who are already dating each other.”

“Tony—”

“I know Bucky stays up to date with the fandom,” he continues, going a little quieter. “He’s gotta know that tons of people ship the three of us. But he doesn’t say anything about it. Share Bear, why doesn’t he say anything?”

“Probably because for every person who ships all three of you, there’s twice as many who ship just you and him,” she admits. “I know that if someone were shipping Maria and Nat and ignoring that I even exist, I’d be pretty upset.”

“Yeah,” he says glumly.

“What’re you filming today anyway?” she asks.

“True Crime. We were supposed to be doing an episode of Supernatural at the Odinson Mystery House, you know, over in Norway where the son found out he was adopted and then got super into Norse mythology and supposedly disappeared into a rainbow?”

“Oh yeah, that guy was crazy.”

“Wasn’t,” Tony insist stubbornly. “There are three different eyewitnesses and they all saw the same thing.”

“All three eyewitnesses tested positive for meth.”

“It was trace amounts and ruled irrelevant to the case. Anyway, there’s some sort of blizzard so our flight got canceled. We figured we’d get a jump on this season’s True Crime episodes instead.”

“What are you doing this week?”

He scowls into the phone. “Fandom episode. They voted for Captain America.”

He can practically hear Sharon wince. “I’m sorry. That fucking sucks.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, not least because both of them know exactly what happened to Captain America. He was recovered from the Arctic back in the 50s and went on to live a very happy and fulfilling life with Aunt Peggy. But that’s a very closely guarded state secret; the U.S. government can’t let it get out that Steve Rogers survived nearly a decade in the ice. Technically, Tony and Sharon aren’t even supposed to know but Aunt Peggy had insisted she be allowed to tell them after she took custody of Sharon and Tony moved out of Howard’s and into her home. It’s kind of cool actually, knowing that Uncle Steve is really Captain America. He’s a pretty great guy. It just kind of sucks that he can’t tell anyone about it and now he has to do a whole episode about it when everyone knows he’s a shitty liar.

He’d talked it over with Uncle Steve and Aunt Peggy when the results of the vote had first come in. Aunt Peggy’s advice had been to act more manic than usual, throw even more outlandish theories into the mix, and really make this episode about the banter between him and Bucky. “Direct their attention away from Steve,” she’d said. “They’re already going to be looking at you. Just make sure they’re doing it for the wrong reason.”

He kind of wants to kiss Bucky. That would definitely draw attention away from the episode. But that’s not fair to either Bucky or Sam, who are very happy with their relationship and don’t need a homewrecker like Tony throwing a spanner into the mix.

“Good luck,” Sharon tells him before they hang up. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Wow, thanks,” he mutters but she’s already gone.

Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty webseries about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.

Now they have a fandom and merchandise and actual fanfiction written about them, which is the craziest thing. They both have several often-quoted gifs floating around the Internet and Bucky has somehow become the poster child for being unimpressed by literally everything (he actually makes some of the best faces when something genuinely scary happens but they always end up editing those parts out—he has an image to maintain after all).

They brought Sam on once they started gaining in popularity. Tony, by that point, already had a pretty well-established crush on Bucky. He’d even thought that he had a chance with his co-host, small as it may be, and at first, it hadn’t seemed like Sam was going to change anything. He and Bucky argued all the time so Tony had been absolutely stunned when he’d stumbled upon them making out like it was the end of the world.

They had just finished filming their second season. Sam had suggested going out to a local bar. He’d suggested it for all three of them but Tony had, inexplicably, felt like a third wheel all night as Sam and Bucky bickered. At one point, Sam had disappeared off to the restroom and a couple minutes later, Bucky had followed him. Tony doesn’t know how long he had sat there waiting for them but he’d eventually gone looking for them only to find Sam pressing Bucky up against a wall.

And that had been that.

Three years later, Sam and Bucky are still going strong, Tony is as smitten with Sam as he is with Bucky despite knowing how hopeless both crushes are, and the fandom seems convinced to either write Sam out of Tony and Bucky’s relationship or write Tony into Sam and Bucky’s. He wishes they would stop. He stays pretty up to date with the fandom as well and they have all these meta posts about the way Bucky looks at him or something. It just keeps giving him hope but, well, it’s been three years. If Bucky wanted him, or if Sam did for that matter, they would have done something long ago.

“Hey, you doing okay?” Sam asks him as they’re setting up.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” He avoids meeting Sam’s eyes, focusing instead on adding creamer to the coffee. Marvels had presented them with these mugs last year to congratulate them on four years of Unsolved. They’ve got their most iconic quotes printed on them, Bucky’s with “Obviously I killed JFK” and Tony’s with “I’m the dramatic bitch your mom warned you about.” Sam has one too with his one and only line in the entire show printed on it (“Why did I agree to work with you?”) but since he’s always behind the camera, he doesn’t have to use the same mug for each episode.

“You just seem a little off.” The worst part is that Sam genuinely looks concerned. If they didn’t care about him, he thinks his crush might be easier to manage but they do because they’re just nice guys like that. “I know you weren’t too thrilled when we announced this week’s case.”

“Howard worked with him, practically hero-worshipped the damn guy. Of course, I’m not excited.”

Sam winces. They know all about Tony’s shitty relationship with Howard after his dad called Marvels furious that his son was hosting a webseries instead of coming home to grovel at his feet and take over the business. The whole team had been brought in to listen as Fury tried to placate him. By the end, Bucky had been furious on Tony’s behalf and Sam had berated Fury for twenty minutes for making Tony listen to the vitriol his dad had spewed. It had cemented his crush on Sam, then just a passing fancy, into something real and permanent.

“Seriously, Sam, I’m fine. Might be a little off today but I would have said if I didn’t think I could do it.”

Sam doesn’t look convinced but he agrees anyway. Tony sits down next to Bucky and passes him his mug. Bucky shoots him a grin and murmurs, “Thanks, doll.”

Tony doesn’t blush but that’s only because he has five years of practice. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Sam counting them down and he turns to face the camera, settling his hands in front of him.

“This week on Marvels Unsolved True Crime and in celebration of our 100th episode,” he begins, “we asked you what you’d like us to investigate and you came back—”

“—overwhelmingly,” Bucky interjects.

“Many, many times,” Tony agrees, “with a topic near and dear to my own heart: Captain America.”

“That’s right,” Bucky says, sounding surprised though Bucky had been the first to point out that maybe they shouldn’t do this episode because of Tony’s connections to Project Rebirth. “Your dad helped turn Steve Rogers into Captain America, didn’t he?”

“And he never let me forget it!” Tony says cheerfully.

“One hundred episodes,” Bucky says slowly, enunciating each word. “Can you believe that, doll?”

Sometimes, he wonders why the fans ship them when Sam is right there. Other times, Bucky says things like this and he understands completely.

“Not even a little bit, Bucky Babe.” Okay, so maybe he doesn’t help.

“One hundred. The big one zero zero.”

“We tried to do something extra special and get Sam in front of the camera for you guys—”

“—so you could see what a hunk he is—”

“—but Sam said that he didn’t trust anyone else to film us properly—”

“—which makes sense because Tony? If you put him in the wrong light, he’s practically a gremlin—”

“Hey!”

“I’m just telling the facts.”

“Well, the facts are wrong.”

“They’re facts, sweet thing, they can’t be wrong.”

“Can too. Anyway, since Sam refuses to join us—”

“—and that just breaks my heart because Sam, he’s one of my favorite guys, you know?”

Tony pauses. It’s not like Bucky to say anything nice about Sam. Usually, it’s all good-natured insults and bickering. He must really be fed up with the Starkbucks shippers to say something like this when they’re still this early in the show.

“Only one of?” he asks curiously.

Bucky shoots him one of those filthy grins that their audience loves so much. “Well, it’s hard not to include you on that list,” he drawls.

He’s not going to blush.

He’s not going to—

Damn it.

Whatever. It’s no big deal, that’s what editing is for. So what if Sam has never edited out one of Tony’s blushes yet? Maybe Tony will get lucky and he will this time.

“You know, I was actually named for Captain America’s sidekick?” Bucky asks, getting them back on track.

“Wow, that is deeply unfortunate,” Tony deadpans.

“Yeah, Dad’s a fanboy. His whole troop was pinned down and rescued by the two of them. He tells the story all the time—kind of like your dad.”

“Except my dad goes straight past into fanboy and directly into obsession territory.”

“…Fair enough.”

“Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”

Bucky shrugs and takes a sip out of his mug. “I’ve been inside your house. I’ve seen the Steve Rogers shrine. I’m not going to argue with you.”

Tony thinks about that for a moment. “It is kind of a shrine, isn’t it? Anyway, we’ve got some great stuff for you today. We’re going to crack open this cold case, show you some never-before-seen footage courtesy of my mom sneaking my dad’s old war tapes out of the mansion, and then we’ll talk a little bit about the theories out there.”

“How many of them are going to be ridiculously outlandish and physically impossible?”

Tony glares at him. “None of them. I have never once presented a ridiculously outlandish and physically impossible theory.”

“Right because alien abduction is a valid—”

“Aliens are real!”

“You said that crabs might have eaten Amelia Earheart!” Bucky shouts over him.

“It’s a valid theory!”

“I take it back, you’re not one of my favorite people anymore.”

“That really hurts me, deep inside,” Tony says sarcastically, trying to cover up that maybe that does send a small pang shooting through his chest. He likes the thought of being one of Bucky’s favorite people. He doesn’t want to lose that.

“How deep?” Bucky asks and winks.

“Very deep. Way, way deep down. Practically in my—”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he nearly chokes on his coffee. “Okay, that’s enough of that. Let’s get into the facts.”

“Hey, that’s my line!”

“With a missing plane and pilot and so much redaction in the files, we’re lucky to even have a name, let’s get into the theories.”

“Actually, wait, before we do that,” Bucky says, “I want to ask if you’ve ever noticed that your voice changes when you’re doing the voiceovers.”

“Wait, what?” Tony asks. He glances at him, to one of the cameras, then back to Bucky. “What do you mean?”

“You know, it gets all deeper like you’re trying to voice movie trailers or something.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Sure it does.”

Tony shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

They both turn toward Sam, who thinks about it and then makes a ‘sort of’ motion with his hand.

“Told you!” Bucky says triumphantly.

“You’re such a child,” Tony sneers.

“Yeah, that’s why you like working with me so much.”

Behind the camera, Sam silently snickers and Tony glares at him before telling the camera, “If you’re watching, let us know in the comments. Is my apparent movie trailer voice okay or does it need to go like Bucky clearly thinks?”

Bucky goes paler. “Hey, wait, I didn’t say it had to go.”

“It was implied when you brought it up,” he argues.

“No!” Bucky insists. “I was just wondering if it was on purpose.”

They both turn toward Sam, who thinks about it and then makes a ‘sort of’ motion with his hand.

“Aha!” Tony says triumphantly.

“Traitor,” Bucky mutters into his coffee.

Sam signs, “I’ll make it up to you when we get home tonight.”

“And that was more than I ever wanted to learn about Sam and Bucky’s love life,” Tony lies through his teeth. “Let’s get into the theories. I only have two for you today, one of which I think Bucky will particularly like.”

“Oh no.”

“Our first theory is that Steve Rogers died in a plane crash on December 16, 1944. Winter months in the Arctic are known to be particularly stormy. There would have been low visibility due to the high latitude and time of year and with the waters and surrounding land being well below freezing, it’s possible that, even if Captain Rogers survived the impact, he would have frozen to death in the stormy seas.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second. “Yeah, that seems plausible.”

“In addition, Howard Stark, a known Captain America aficionado and the father of Marvels Unsolved’s best host—”

“You lie like a rug!” Bucky howls.

Tony snickers and then when Sam signs, “He’s really not,” bursts out into full-out laughter.

Once he’s recovered, he continues, “Howard Stark has spent the first fifty years after the crash of the Valkyrie and the last twenty funding searches in the Arctic in the hopes of recovering Captain Rogers’ body. He has found no evidence that Captain Rogers survived the crash although he did find part of the remains of the Valkyrie and has since stated that, ‘No human could have survived that crash.’”

The expeditions are a scam and have been since Howard first found the Valkyrie crash site and Uncle Steve along with it. He hadn’t been planning on continuing the expeditions—too costly, as he claims—but when Aunt Peggy had told him that Uncle Steve’s survival had to remain a secret, he’d kept them up for pretense’s sake.

Bucky is saying something about how it sucks that the first superhero is gone and when he finishes, Tony grins and says, “Then you’ll like our second theory.”

“Somehow, every time you say that, I end up completely hating it. Wonder why that is.”

“Our second theory is that Steve Rogers survived the crash and is still alive but cryogenically frozen in the ice. There—”

“Bullshit!”

Tony starts laughing but he tries to continue on over Bucky shouting that it’s complete nonsense. It’s hard and he knows that Sam will probably have to do some editing and maybe make Tony do some voiceover work in order to make the theory audible but he thinks he manages to do a pretty good job.

Bucky is pouting by the end of it, arms crossed over his chest. “What fucking bullshit,” he mutters.

“The supersoldier serum—” Tony starts to point out.

“Isn’t a miracle drug.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“No, it just made him big and strong. It doesn’t just magically keep people alive when they should have died.”

And then they’re off into familiar territory, arguing about the merits of either theory. Tony’s actually feeling pretty good about himself, convinced that he’s doing a decent job of steering the conversation away of anything classified, right up until Bucky says, about halfway through the episode, “I’m surprised at you, Tony.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Surprised?”

“Usually, you have some absolutely batshit, off-the-walls crazy theory but these have actually been pretty normal for you.” He pauses and then adds for effect, “And you’re usually much better at your research than this.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on, even I know that there’s one more theory.”

He starts tapping at his chest nervously, almost wishing that he had a pair of sunglasses. Aunt Peggy always said that his lies are in his eyes, that they’re too expressive to hide the truth. When he was living with Howard, in the spotlight, he always had a pair of sunglasses to hide his eyes but he hasn’t wanted to use those since he moved out. He wishes he had them now.

“And what’s that?” he asks, feigning a casualness he doesn’t feel.

“That Steve Rogers lived and came out of the ice at some point and has been living out his life in anonymity.”

He barks out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t mention it because even I know that that theory is completely impossible.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.” Sam nods agreeably. Bucky nods back at him and adds, “Even Sam agrees with me.”

“He’s your boyfriend, he’s practically required to.”

Both Sam and Bucky laugh at that one and yeah, okay, it was a pretty ridiculous statement. Anyone who knows them knows that being boyfriends is less likely to make them agree with each other.

“Look, Steve Rogers didn’t come out of the ice alive. Howard would have known for one thing and if you think, he could keep something like that quiet, then you don’t know him very well.”

“Maybe the government insisted it be a secret,” Bucky suggests, shrugging. “There have been plenty of people who have claimed over the last couple decades to be Captain America.”

Tony scoffs. “Oh come on, by that logic, anyone could be Captain America.”

“Maybe they could be.”

“No,” Tony says flatly. “It’s like that crazy conspiracy theory guy over on Reddit who’s convinced that Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

“Maybe Bruce Wayne is Batman.”

“Ooh do the butts match?” Tony says mockingly. “I mean, really, Bucky Babe, if we’re going off of lookalikes, then my fucking Uncle Steve is secretly really Steve Rogers, which is ridiculous because the guy’s like practically ancient and faints at the sight of blood in PG-13 movies.”

That sets off another round of arguing that lasts the rest of the episode until finally Tony wraps it up with, “Whether Steve Rogers died in 1944 or is still alive today is a mystery that will remain unsolved.”

They both pause for a moment to provide time for Sam to edit in the theme music and closing title. Usually, there would be some lighthearted bantering afterwards, maybe a joke about something they said earlier in the show. This time though, Bucky says thoughtfully, “The thing is, though, I’ve met your Uncle Steve—”

Tony goes cold.

“—and he really does kind of look like—”

Tony panics. That’s the only explanation that he has for declaring, “I’m done waiting,” reaching across the tables and grabbing hold of Bucky’s shirt, and yanking him forward to kiss him.

For a moment, Bucky is too startled to do anything but then he melts into Tony, mouth opening under his, tongue pushing forward to meet his. Bucky’s arms come around him, pulling him up and out of his chair and settling him into his lap. Tony makes a small greedy sound, swallowed by Bucky’s kiss, and then they’re both pulling away. Bucky’s lips are very red; Tony can’t stop staring at them even as he’s filled with dismay.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Why not?” Bucky demands.

“You—Sam—” He glances toward the camera but Sam isn’t standing there anymore. His heart drops into his stomach—has he just ruined Bucky and Sam’s relationship? But then he hears someone drop to their knees behind him and when he turns slightly, Sam’s fingers are on his chin, gently turning his head.

“How long?” Sam asks.

“How long what?”

“How long have we been wasting our time when we could have been kissing you instead?”

Three years, two months, and fifteen days. “Too long.”

Sam kisses him then, mouth gentler than Bucky’s but no less consuming. Bucky is a hard, hot line against his front; Sam is warm against his back and Tony? Tony loses himself in the storm that is the two of them, sparks shooting through him as Bucky’s hands find their way to his hips, as Sam’s tongue slips into his mouth, as Bucky whispers into his ear, “We’re not wasting any more time.”

Marvels Unsolved’s 100th episode shoots to their most watched, most liked video in less than a day and when asked, maybe the smallest handful of viewers could have said what it was about.

The day after it posts, only a week after it was filmed, Tony’s phone rings.

“Kill it with fire,” Sam says sleepily.

Tony, however, recognizes Aunt Peggy’s ringtone and he rolls over to grab it before Bucky can throw it at the wall. “Hello?” he asks groggily.

“Congratulations on not blowing Steve’s cover,” she says.

“Oh yeah,” Tony mutters. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“One more thing, duck.”

“What’s that?”

“Congratulations on the new boyfriends.”

#winterironfalcon #alle writes #alle answers #ooh boy this got long #if you like please consider reblogging #justsomeoneunordinary

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ovvnwords · 3 years

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* braeden lemasters, non-binary + he / they | you know atticus de-larouche, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to what’s my age again by blink 182 like, a million times this year, which makes sense ’cause they’ve got that whole saying the right thing at the wrong time, overheated pc that makes the funny whirr noise 24/7, photos of his baby girl filling up his camera roll thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 29th so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( mackenzie, 21, est, she/her ) / TW FOR ALCOHOLISM , LOTS OF MENTIONS OF WEED

being the youngest of triplets, atty was born to a workaholic mother who wasn’t really around and a father who .. was mostly really chill – actually, he was more of a friend than a father. lack of rules, discipline led to a life of clownery for atty.

mom never really wanted kids, only did so because it was the “right thing to do” and yadda yadda. love was never felt much, his mother and father eventually divorced when he was 3, but it was amicable - and eventually their father remarried, and it turned the de-larouche family into something akin to the brady bunch. hasn’t spoken to their birth mother in years - at least fifteen. not out of hatred, just doesn’t want to.

father remarried a woman named katherine ( who atty calls mom ) when he was 8, and she herself had 5 kids - all together there’s 8 kids ( brady bunch shit ) .

she was the one who encourage atty’s passions and dreams - father did too, of course, but she was the stay at home mom type who really took care of them while his father seemed to want to be the sole breadwinner for the family.dad was a ceo for a company - haven’t decided but the de-larouche fam definitely wasn’t missing meals or having their lights turned off, that’s for sure. dad was a ceo for a company - haven’t decided but the de-larouche fam definitely wasn’t missing meals or having their lights turned off, that’s for sure.

ALCOHOLISM TW / by the time they were 15, their dad eventually went to rehab for his alcohol dependency. though they were exposed to it, atticus themself had never drank - and still doesn’t plan to, mostly because they’re scared to, not that they’d ever admit it.

this was never something atty had noticed. maybe because they were always out of the house with friends, or maybe he saw the one-off’s and didn’t think much of it. there’s a lot of guilt in the pit of their stomach about it and what more they could’ve done.

this left katherine and the kids to take care of each other - not like that was anything new or special, but it just made things seem very more real.

was the typical beach kid - skating, surfing, whatever. very mid-90′s vibes . eventually they were brought into the wrong crowd, though nothing too terrible happened. just was exposed to more ‘adult’ things at a young age, causing his outlook. it’s kind of given him a very ‘unimpressed’ attitude about life. the lack of structure caused them to carve out their own - firm in their own beliefs, and will fight to the death for what they believes in ( even if it’s wrong ), sometimes doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

began college at the local community college near irving, met a girl — probably akin to a one night stand which resulted in their daughter, gracelynn.

atty loves that lil girl more than life itself … wld literally kill several men for her. they share custody 50/50, even coming together on holidays and weekends where it seems as if they probably spend “too much” time together for people who aren’t a couple ....

is a popular twitch streamer, but also spends his days working whatever shifts he wants at the local skateboard shop. manager but the kind that doesn’t give a shit what you do unless the store is burning down or being robbed. everyone there has a great relationship and atty goes whenever he wants ...

other stuff .....

doesn’t think gender is really a thing, hates the idea of it. uses he / them pronouns interchangeably and frankly doesn’t want to be perceived so they don’t care what anyone elses uses.

definitely a mama’s (katherines) kid ...

spoils gracelynn rotten, loves her to death.

dresses like a suburban dead

weed man ,,,,,,,,,, doesn’t sell. just smokes so fucking much of it.

bisexual? gay? straight? enigma.

#irvingintro #atticus de - la rouche \ visage.#atticus de - la rouche \ musings.#atticus de - la rouche \ interactions.#atticus de - la rouche \ answered.#atticus de - la rouche \ socials.

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iwillhaveamoonbase · 4 years

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Replay ch. 3

Chapter is rated M

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

Rayla got up at seven, eyes heavy from the lack of sleep last night. “Noooo. UGH.” She turned to angrily glare at her alarm that had interrupted her rain noises. Aberdeen wasn’t the rainiest place in the world, but the sound of a rain storm always helped put her to sleep. Her mum and da always joked she was named ‘Rayla’ because she was born right when the moon shone through a stormy night.

Rayla went through her emails quickly, making a note in her phone to call both sets of her parents this weekend. She missed the days in Scotland when Runaan would speak French with her and talk cheese or helping Ethari in his jewelry business. Runaan ran the books while Ethari ran the artistic side, his work with metal and jewel placement both tasteful and modern while taking classic elements from Celtic art.

Her parents had yet to retire from being bodyguards, but they regaled her with stories of Africa and Asia and Australia, how kind people were, the different foods and cultures. Sometimes, she wished she could have grown up going with them. Other times, she knew they had made the right choice leaving her with Runaan and Ethari. They wouldn’t have had much time for her anyways.

Sighing, she rolled out of bed. She had a breakfast date with Corvus before she had to be at the office. God. She hated those pricks sometimes; a lot of old money lived in that office. She had thought she was leaving classism behind when she did her study abroad in the States for her law degree. Apparently, America just hid their classism really well instead of openly displaying it like they did back in the UK.

She lived well, was paid well, did better than anyone had expected her to do, probably. She had been more focused on athletics as a kid, leading Runaan to force her into ballet (‘you already know some French. It’s perfect!’), Ethari insisting on Irish step dance (‘Lain’s mother was Irish. It’s a world wide sensation, Rayla!’), and her own parents signing her up for kickboxing when she was in high school during their vacation from work. Her teachers had been frustrated that she was smart but didn’t ‘apply herself’ whatever that meant. She got good grades, did better in college, got into law school in another country, and passed the bar. She could apply herself just fine. She just liked to be active.

Rayla sighed as she stepped into the hot water of her shower. She had made a good choice buying this shower head. Slowly, she felt the burn that had started last night begin to build back up again. Green eyes entered her mind again, as well as a voice that she would love to hear calling her name out while she rode him. ‘Calm down, Rayla.’ She couldn’t meet Corvus horny. Rayla sighed, putting her forehead against the shower wall before starting to massage her breast. She tried to imagine it was Callum’s hand stroking her, dipping down to touch between her thighs where she ached.

Would his hands be soft or rough? There hadn’t been any obvious calluses when she had shaken his hand at the cheese shop. She moaned, dipping her fingers into her wet heat. Her thighs rubbed together as she tried to chase that elusive release. She didn’t have time for this. The more she tried to speed up, the more it just wasn’t happening. Growling in frustration, she tried to play with her clit, breathing deeply as she finally found a rhythm that was working. Rayla bit her bottom lip and sighed as she came, inwardly crowing with satisfaction. There was no worse start to a day than being unable to cum after a wet dream or being too horny to function.

She washed and dried off, stretching her muscles before dressing. The green pantsuit and black top showed off her toned figure without drawing too much attention to any one place. Her heels made her even taller and, hopefully, a little intimidating to jerky clients or coworkers. She grabbed her purse and went out the door. When she finally made it to her car, she leaned her head on the steering wheel. Had she really started her day off by masturbating to a guy she met YESERDAY?

She shook her head, driving off until she made it to the little café she and Corvus frequented. Corvus also worked in the same building, but for a different law office, specifically divorce. Rayla had no idea how he did it, but someone had to. She saw Corvus at their usual table, smiling at something on his phone. “Your boyfriend sent you a naughty text?”

Corvus smirked back up at her. “Nope. Just something about one of my latest clients. Well, their soon-to-be-ex.”

“Good news or bad news?”

“Well, considering it’s a custody case, it’s good for my client.”

“Abuse?” Rayla frowned.

“I would not be smirking if that was the case. No. Apparently, the ex has been mismanaging the children’s money. Lying about putting it in a back account for them and spending it on gambling debts.”

“You don’t call that abuse?” Rayla smiled up at the waiter who came over, ordering an earl grey, a coffee to go, and an omelet.

“Thank you,” Corvus nodded to the waiter. “I do, personally, but everyone views that differently. The children were never struck, no record of emotional, mental, or oral abuse. It seemed like it was going to go 50-50 custody, which tends to be the ideal situation, but my client was concerned about the gambling problem.”

“So best case scenario, gambler’s anonymous and supervised visits eventually leading to 50-50 custody?”

“Best case scenario. Probably won’t happen, but we can all hope.”

Rayla shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it. I didn’t do criminal law or divorce law because I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing evidence of child abuse all day.”

“It’s a lot. We try to spread those cases around as much as we can, because it gets to be too much when it’s all you see. When police reports come into play, it’s even worse.” Rayla nodded. “While you work for old money. Tell me, how’s Kasef doing?”

“Hitting on me, again. Got upset when I told him off for glaring at a guy in a cheese shop for asking me a question.”

“He comes down to our office on his breaks and hits on half the women there.”

“Believe me, I know. His father gets really upset about it.”

“How is Mr. Ahling?”

“Still insisting we call him ‘Mr. Ahling’ and not the proper ‘Mr. Patel.’ His health is starting to go downhill, so we’re hoping his daughter graduates soon and can start to learn how to take over the office.”

Corvus shook his head, smiling at the waiter with her when they brought their food. “Thank you. I’m telling you, join our office. You could be really good at gathering information.”

“Thank you, but, no thanks. I grew up believing in true love with both sets of my parents. I’d like to continue believing in it.”

“You still believe in love. I love my boyfriend so much we’re moving in together.”

“Well, congratulations to you both. You moving in to his apartment or is he moving into your’s?”

“Mine’s bigger and closer to both our jobs.”

They talked work for a few more minutes, keeping an eye on the time. Rayla sighed as she looked at Corvus. “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“My hairdresser would love to do your hair. Those layers are cute, but maybe you need a new look.”

“Ha ha. My hair’s fine, thanks. You remember me mentioning a guy in the cheese shop?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he asked to draw me. He said it’s cool that I brought a friend and I would like to bring you. I don’t really have any other friends in the city.” She finished her tea, opening the lid of her coffee to put some cream in.

“He seem legit?”

“I saw his art. He also runs a YouTube channel with his friends and little brother?”

“What’s his name?”

“Callum Evans.”

“Katolis Squad!” Corvus smiled, clapping his hands together.

“You know them?”

“Of course. They do a lot of food stuff. I found this café because of one of their videos. Also, my boyfriend’s a baker, remember? Ezran and Claudia do a series on baking and sweets and he likes to watch them. Callum Evans is also kind of known in the art scene in town and I’ve met his aunt a few times. Lovely lady, so’s her wife.”

“Huh. Apparently, I’m out of it.”

“You just arrived in Katolis last year. I grew up here. You remember my boyfriend’s beignets you liked so much?”

“Those were delicious.”

“Ezran’s recipe. His grandmother’s friend was from Louisiana and she taught him how to make them like it’s done in the French-Quarter.”

“Huh. So, you’ll come with me?”

“Sure. Callum Evans seems harmless, but since he already approved it, might as well take advantage.”

“Agreed. I can take care of myself, but, you never know.”

“Where’s it going to be?”

“At his house. He said he has an art studio there. At least, that’s what he implied. I’m waiting for a text from him to iron out the details.”

“Maybe he’ll ask to draw you nude?” Rayla flushed red at that, looking down at her almost finished breakfast. “Oh? Something you want to share with the class? A reason you were distracted during kickboxing last night, perhaps?”

Rayla glared up at him, taking a few harsh bites of her omelet. She swallowed, keeping eye contact with him. “He’s cute, I’m single, that’s it.”

“He’s single.” Rayla paused. “He broke-up with his last girlfriend months ago. She made a big Instagram post about it, saying they wanted to focus on their careers. Which was weird because no one even knew they were in a relationship.”

“So, he’s probably used to people trying to use him for fame.”

“Most likely. He keeps to himself.”

“I saw that when I went digging online. His step-father’s the governor and his mother was in the military for a few years, rising through the ranks very quickly.”

“Yeah. They try to keep their channel separate from all that, though. People are always asking them questions about it and they’ll either ignore it or say they aren’t a mouthpiece for Harrow Williams.”

“Fair. I’ll text you the details. I’ve got my coffee, gotta go.” Rayla put a $20 on the table and waved good-bye to Corvus, leaving to head to the office. Well, this just got even more interesting, didn’t it?

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

Callum rubbed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. All night, he had dreamed of Rayla. Her white hair down and around bare shoulders, purple eyes starting deep into his. ‘Come on, Callum. Make me feel good.’ He tossed and turned in his bed, suddenly thankful for the fact he lived alone. His cock was at attention and it was not going to be going down any time soon. Rolling out of bed, he took his sleep clothes off as he made his was to his shower. He winced at the cold water, but sighing in relief as his erection went down. He had no time to rub one out. He was already running late for his meeting with Ezran, Soren, and Claudia. They had to go over whether or not to actually hire a crew now that their channel had six million subscribers.

It would be a smart move. Claudia’s home-made beauty series was getting a lot of attention, as were her and Ez’s baking series. Soren and Ezran’s sub channel and Twitch channel was getting a lot of attention in the video game community for their let’s plays and commentary. Even Callum’s art sub channel was getting more and more attention. He was just worried about going bigger because, if they did, what if drama followed? It had been a PR nightmare when his ex-girlfriend had posted on Instagram about going their separate ways for their careers. Callum had asked her to keep it between them because he wanted to keep his personal life and his YouTube life separate. She had apparently felt that, after they broke-up, what he wanted didn’t matter.

As he quickly ate breakfast, he couldn’t get the idea of Rayla from his dreams or of her in a forest out of his head. Those eyes haunted his every though. ‘She’s a freaking fae. That must be it.’ Callum rubbed his eyes again, sighing. He sent a quick text to Rayla asking if she would be alright with her modeling for him in the woods outside of town. She would probably say ‘no’, but Callum needed to get this image out of his head and out of his system. He had just met her and she was distracting him already. Still, Callum wasn’t so sure he could ever get someone like her out of his system. Even if they had sex a week straight, he would probably still crave her. ‘Stop getting ahead of yourself, Callum. She’s probably in a relationship, you just want to draw her, and you have other things to focus on right now.’

All day, as the group discussed the benefits to do YouTube full-time, barring Ezran because he was still in college, a Scottish accent and a pair of soft eyes stayed in the back of his mind. Beckoning him to find her and take her under a waterfall in the forest. Would she scratch and like it rough or did she like to go soft and slow, like a wave?

Ezran snapped his fingers in his face. “Callum, focus.”

“Right. So, I think taking a step forward is a good idea….” He didn’t have time to be thinking about faeries in suits from Scotland.

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #tdp #the dragon prince #au #replay #moonbase fanfics

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blankdblank · 3 years

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Ridikulus Pt 33

Into the clearing Legolas slid on his heels down the hill wide eyed looking you over, “What has happened? Two of our guards mentioned Naneth had come to your lands.”

Celeborn stated, “Queen Jaqi passed through to these waters, crossed beyond the falls into Valinor and surfaced again moments later with her Cousins Leta Lestrange and young Corvus. It seems Irmo willed her to sleep, it must have been tiring.”

Maglor, “These are extensive wounds.” He said inspecting the hand gripping the Lord’s sleeve on the arm holding your legs equally as bruised and bloody.

Legolas asked, “Why has she not been taken to the Healers?!”

Haldir, “Queen Jaqi has requested the presence of her Aunt Narcissa.”

Legolas’ gaze however shifted to Leta in her timid thanks to an Elleth who brought a large towel to drape around her seeing she wished to be covered. Stepping around the Lord he came to crouch beside her making her ask, “Where am I? I don’t know where this Loth place is. I’ve never heard of it.”

Legolas nodded saying, “There was a war, and your people used a book to travel here for safety for their children to escape that war. Queen Jaqi led the evacuation. Your people landed across our lands in groups, one in Rivendell and another in the Shire. Since then have granted protective barriers to the Elven lands of Rivendell and here in Lothlorien as well as the Greater Greenwood and the Dwarven kingdoms as well. You are safe here and once her aunt has arrived no doubt they will house you and young Corvus and explain things fully to your understanding.”

Leta nodded then looked to you, “You know her?” Legolas’ eyes narrowed a moment, “I kept seeing her there, in that place, bringing me flowers.” She shook her head, “But I died, I know it. Grindelwald killed me.” Hastily she wet her lips and reached out placing a hand on his forearm giving it a tight grip, “Did they win? Did they kill him? Grindelwald?”

Legolas, “I do not know, I apologize.”

Just as soon as the drama with the spiders had occurred the masses of Wizarding Britain now stared at their fireplaces wide eyed in a wafting sea of feathers the spiders had exploded into now coating the rooms with all connected now green flaming fireplaces signaling the system was now linked. Somehow the system had given one last hyjinx before submitting to work again and through the volunteered group demonstrating that the system was functioning again by heading to the predestined location to return with signed notes. Each link would be checked thoroughly but for now as the feathers were being gathered up people calmed that finally the kerfuffles were a thing of the past and a bit of normalcy could be found again once the lines were open to the public.

An out of place bell from the front door had the trio of Malfoys facing one another before their House Elf returned stating, “An Elf to see you Madame.”

She nodded her head and looked to the tall blonde who bowed his head stating, “Queen Jaqi is in Lothlorien and has requested your assistance.”

“Ah,” she muttered.

And Draco said, “Probably best we all go. In case more feathers pop out.” Brushing a few more feathers off of her back as his father pulled a few from the top of her head.

With a few more feathers dropping off of them the trio followed the blonde back to the archways and through Lothlorien eyeing the gathered Elves speaking amongst themselves

Legolas’ head however turned seeing Orophin helping your relatives down the slick bank where Narcissa and Lucius’ lips parted. Narcissa however broke their silence stating, “Jaqi!” hurrying forward after Draco, who was looking you over.

Draco, “What happened to her?! More feathers, did the spiders explode out of your chimneys too?”

Elrond asked with eyes narrowing a moment, “Spiders?”

Celeborn, “Jaqi crossed these waters into Valinor, and resurfaced with her cousin Leta Lestrange and young Corvus.”

Lucius shifted on his feet looking the duo over then you again, “Huh…Interesting.”

Draco’s brows furrowed a moment, “Valinor, that’s your afterlife, place, right?”

Elrond answered, “Of sorts, yes, our Valar dwell there. If she was allowed there they must have called her.”

Narcissa walked around him joining Legolas, “Hello Leta, may I call you Leta?”

Leta nodded and wet her lips and accepted Legolas’ help to her feet and replied, “Your name is Narcissa?”

“Yes, my late sister married into your line, the Lestranges. Are you injured?”

“No, but they won’t tell me if Grindelwald is dead, if we won the war.”

Lucius, “That is a complicated answer. However, you may come with us and until Thesius can be contacted you are welcome to live with us.”

Leta, “Thesius escaped then? Last I saw him and Newt were facing off against Grindelwald.”

Narcissa, “Leta,” her hand extended to land on her shoulder, “It’s 1999,” dropping the wet witch’s jaw, “We don’t know how you ended up in Valinor, or how Jaqi was able to find you, but until we can have those questions answered it is late, we will fix you a warm bath and let you rest.”

Lucius’ eyes shifted to Corvus, “Would you be wanting custody of your brother?”

Leta wet her lips, “I-,”

Lucius, “Because if you don’t we would be more than glad to care for the boy in your stead, and offer you a home if need be. And we would contact Thesius-,”

Leta, “But, he’s, it’s been 50 years. How could he-,”

Draco said, “Technically Jaqi’s partners are over 14,000 years older than her, and there’s no spilled tea over that.” Her eyes twitched larger a moment, “Yup, big gap, but for Elves that’s like, mid adulthood range, so she’s not that much younger, maturity-wise. I mean you at least got to have tea with him. He never got married, still mad about you.” Her eyes sank and he added, “Think it over, at least.”

Her lips parted for her to nip at one and he continued, “But, good news, we landed in these lands and now we’re sort of Elves now. And a lot of people have been de-aging, including Theseus and Newt, they only looked to be about 50-ish back home, but now they are late 30’s at best, so, you can still get married if you like…”

Leta, “What happened-,”

Lucius replied, “Grindelwald was imprisoned years after your death, Newt aided in his fall along with Dumbledore. After him another Wizard rose to power, Tom Riddle Jr, who our niece Jaqi killed. There were more factions that rose up in his death, whom Grindelwald aided in their destruction to cover our escape.”

Leta’s brows furrowed, “Why would he help you? Or anyone?!”

Narcissa, “Because we had thousands of children from those who were trying to fight, say what you will about his nature and affinity for destruction and torture but he never touched children. Either matter, now they are in our old world and we are starting over here in this one. We don’t know if he’s dead or not, but we’re safe. You are safe, your brother will be too.”

She looked to Corvus in Arwen’s arms cooing in his hand tapping her chin luring out her grin at the boy. She nodded and glanced at your relatives saying, “I do not believe it best I raise Corvus, for obvious reasons.”

Lucius nodded, “Of course.”

Leta asked, “He will be taught well?”

Narcissa nodded, “Yes as I said, my late sister married into your father’s line, we also are part of the Sacred 28, I am from the Black Family and Lucius from the Malfoys. He will be well looked after, given the best foot up.” Making Leta nod again.

Narcissa approached collecting the boy and offering a hand to Leta, “We’ll mind him, you focus on mending,” her eyes shifted to Leta, who eased her hand into your aunt’s, “We’ll get you comfy and cozy with some tea and start slow with what you’ve missed in landing here. World’s changed, so many new things to learn.”

Lucius looked to Legolas asking, “I take it you would want to patch Jaqi up?”

Legolas replied, “Our Healers would be grateful to aid in her wounds. They do seem minor, though numerous.”

Draco smirked drawing his wand drying you and changing your clothes to a fresh pair of shorts and a baggy tank top cut from one of your father’s old t shirts. “Be sure to have some fresh fruit by her when she wakes up, she smells like blueberries, not fond of blueberries. Someone must have hit her with a knockout cloud to sleep like this. See you at the zoo tomorrow. We can hear about this all then.”

Summoning your door to shorten the trip while Lucius accepted hold of Corvus saying with a grin, “We’re going home young lad we’ll get you a nice warm bottle. I think you’ll love your new room, and in a few months you’ll have a baby sister to share it with.”

Looking to Celeborn Legolas said, “I will take Naneth home to our Healers.”

Celeborn chuckled and said, “If you do not mind I shall carry her, due to her tight grip on my wrap.”

Tenderly you were laid out across a plushy cot in the Healing Wing where a team of Elleths got to fetching herbs, oils and creams to tentatively spread across your exposed skin. Your hands coated in everything were wrapped in towels as word through a series of servants had the King and Glorfindel sliding through the entrance approaching the visiting Lord who shared all he knew. Which wasn’t much but inspecting the lingering glow to your skin and hair under the dull bruises and scrapes they could tell you went through a struggle.

Celeborn, “For now, she has been urged to sleep. We might ask once she has awoken. Though young Draco did mention in their home spiders had exploded into feathers, Lothlorien also is now coated in feathers.”

Glorfindel replied, “The lands I awoke in were coated in feathers as well. Manwe ordered my return.”

Thranduil asked as he stroked his fingertips along the side of your bloody bruised stomach an Elleth had revealed to coat it with creams, “What purpose could calling Jaqi to Valinor serve?”

Celeborn, “I was informed it seemed like she was following something. Though nothing was spotted, and she did seem to be blind to it, Orophin had guessed a voice perhaps.”

Legolas looked you over again, “To be called and face such wounds…”

A sigh from you lured their eyes back to you only to watch you mutter in Valinorean, “Can’t you hear them singing.”

Eyes narrowed on the Lords around you and Celeborn asked, “Who is singing?”

Again you sighed out, “The stars.” That parted their lips only for them to all inhale sharply when you muttered, “Dancing with Telperion, Laurelin.”

Thranduil, “You can see the Two Trees?”

“They were so heavy, so heavy, and far,” Their eyes shifted to the base of your bed that at the shift of a finger had vines of bluebells and forget me nots spreading up, your voice faded off as you muttered, “Let the shadow’s fool try me now.”

On the breeze a strong waft of green apples flowed through the kingdom in your breaths deepening making Glorfindel mutter, “Shadow’s fool,”

Celeborn stated after a glance at Thranduil and Glorfindel, “They reminded her,”

Legolas, “Of what?”

Celeborn, “Who she is.” His eyes shifted to you again, “Pluto, their Precious Pluto.”

Legolas gawked at you in the soaking of your name through the group, each knowing their own tales of the formidable pupil of the Masters of Spirits. The one Morgoth knew to kill first before striking at the other Valar. Each opening bloom on the vines around you releasing its own glimmer of light that seeped into your skin healing your injuries in the start of the forest beginning to sing a deep song in their dancing under significantly brighter stars luring all conscious Elves to come out and admire them.

Thranduil stated, “Now that her wounds are healed, we should return her to bed.” Carefully draping your arms across your now covered and healed middle, underneath you his arms eased and against his chest he lifted you.

Glorfindel stated, “Truly, if that is a call to arms-,”

Celeborn, “The scent of apples is a warning-,”

Thranduil turned stating firmly, “I am aware of that. When the fool returns we will be ready.” The Lords followed as he continued, “For now, our Queen is resting.”

Legolas, “I am not concerned,” he stated causing them in the hall to glance at him, “For the ease she destroyed the One Ring, and all those lands her kin have cleansed. Truly any sent after her is no match.”

Continuing on Celeborn replied, “No, not if she has been carrying the Two Trees with her all this time.”

Into bed you were placed and around the dining room table his meeting was moved while Glorfindel laid down beside you smoothing his fingers through your hair, each stroke of his fingers stirring up glimmers of starlight between your now deep silver curls while your past life played in your dreams.

Half an hour before your waking while Glorfindel handled the waking, dressing and prepping of the boys for breakfast Thranduil laid out beside you stroking your cheek feeling a difference in your strength already. The once untapped strength now free flowing without a block from your severed link to your past life you would start to slowly remember over time. Though in the signs that you were stirring to his gentle touch his smirk ghosted out remembering your goodbye the night before and his promise on how to wake you up.

At your deep inhale he leaned in to kiss your forehead, “Dew drop,” you sighed it out and a smirk ghosted across his lips.

“Are you awake?” he asked in your arm shifting and fingers tapping against his chin, the contact causing his eyes to droop in the tilt of your head allowing your lips to ghost against his. Leaning in his lips planted on yours forcing your fingers more across his cheek and into his hair. Around his neck your arms draped in the deepening of the kiss luring him to ease more on top of you, a move easier had there not been a comforter between you.

A pause for air from him had you smacking your lips and asking, “Blueberries.”

Thranduil’s brows inched up and he stated, “Yes, Draco did mention to have fruit waiting for you when you awoke.”

“Draco, how was he? I must have fallen asleep.”

“Yes, it is common for those who return from Valinor to be forced to sleep. Draco was well I hear, curious for what you faced, asked if spiders had exploded into feathers. I hear your Aunt has taken custody of Corvus and someone named Thesius is being contacted for Leta to meet. His marital status was relevant.”

“Thesius is Newt’s brother, they were engaged when she died. I’m glad they took Corvus in. No doubt Lucius is having baby fever readying for baby number two. Spiders, they mentioned spiders?”

“Rumil went to fetch them at your request and stated their home was coated in feathers, something about their fireplaces. But he was specific on spiders exploding into feathers.”

“I must have broken the block somehow. There were so many spiders and no one could see them until I got there.”

Thranduil stated, “Perhaps it best to wait on the full explanation until we are all at the zoo. All the Lords will be there, and we are all curious to hear what you faced in your travels to Valinor.”

“I kind of think I used to be someone very important.”

Again he smirked leaning in to steal another kiss then sweetly hummed, “I know.”

“You know?”

“None can claim a name of a Maiar or Valar for their child without their Fea taking hold of their body. Even Durin the Deathless cannot be named again all the same. To be named after stars or celestial beings is something sacred and allowed rarely. You seem to be taking this well.”

“We learn about past lives in Divinations courses. It isn’t that hard to believe. Though I can’t get any hints of one from you.”

“Because this is my first life. Rarely do we return with different names.”

For a moment your grin flinched and your fingers stroked his cheek, “Were you happy?”

Concern flooded into his gaze as he asked, “When?”

“Before I landed here. Even when you were just in my dreams staring blankly I hoped you were happy.”

“We had each other. Not nearly as happy as we are now, however, there were moments of joy in our exhaustion.”

Over his eyebrows your finger traced making him smirk again, “No wonder these were locked so low.”

Sliding off the bed he murmured, “For now, breakfast, then we can talk about my expression.” Scooping you up he carried your smirking self to the dining room.

The boys smiled at you as you settled into your chair and Legolas helped to bring the food over asking, “Did you rest well, Naneth?”

“Seems like it. You?”

“I did not sleep. Made a round on guard it seems feathers have been blowing from Lothlorien since last night. Their artists are gathering up as many as they can, a few of ours have been utilizing the chance to as well.” Leaning in Glorfindel stole a kiss on your cheek taking the seat beside you. “I would assume your artists are utilizing it as well, Draco did mention an explosion of feathers.”

“Feathers are always useful. Art or otherwise.”

All three boys seemed to explode with questions on how the zoo would be while Legolas and the pair seated near you seemed to be ghosting around the question they wished to be answered as to what happened last night. “Here,” You said after blowing out a marble with swirling clouds inside of it the trio eyed as you went to change in Taule helping the trio to keep distracted for a few minutes by looking at the pictures and plushies you had brought. Lords Elrond and Celeborn came with their children who all circled the trio still inspecting your marble. Staring at the now floating marble lifted from Glorfindel’s palm then let out a blink of light warning them to a mist filling their vision that wafted into the memory of you settled on the bed in Thranduil’s room when you first heard the voice calling you.

Moment by moment they were pulled along with you open mouthed staring at all you had endured and seen. The memory faded with your slump to Celeborn’s chest muttering about blueberries and the trio glanced at one another unable to even think of what to say only to look to you when you came back in jeans and a layered flowing floral tank top tied with a sash under on open cardigan with comfy heeled boots. “Answer your questions?” Em was still waking up after her own breakfast settled in a comfy shirt and plants matching the colors of yours.

Glorfindel, “And adds a few more.” Making you smirk. The boys hurried in and Legolas lifted Estel to his hip while Thranduil and Glorfindel lifted one each of the twins and followed you and Legolas back through your doorway to your home.

Through the halls you guided them to the front entrance to take them out of Grimmauld Place with Legolas asking, “Will we be taking the train as well? I do not have papers.”

Smirking up at him you said, “Now that the Flue System is repaired I can take you through our London entrance in Grimmauld Place. See, the house itself is hidden but our family has vast properties to our name, including one in the heart of London, England. We will have to take the Knight Bus though.” For a moment they paused eyeing the flat you had just walked out of so far from the house they knew it was linked to and they turned as you did in the slide of the buildings together again. “It’s enchanted to hide from Muggles.”

Jostling didn’t come close to describing the ride the men sat wide eyed through while you, Em and the boys giggled at sliding back and forth with Celeborn grateful for your anchoring bubble to keep his chair in place as he held Tin leaving the other chairs sliding around his. Slowly they adjusted to the odd way of traveling until you led the group to stand and exit wondering what was next. It was puzzling to say the least how so many things in your Wizarding world was both amazing and nonsensical at the same time, seemingly free but so regimented to laws that had been so harsh to nearly rob you of your freedom.

On the curb you guided the men down the street through people milling by eyeing the tall men behind you with scattered forced grins at the lot of you all the way to the press surrounded zoo. Gasps came from the boys and after the small speech from the Prime Minister, who smirked at you remembering your being banished from England, a fact now wiped from the Queen’s mind and all record with it, later and you were allowed in. Each Lord around you along with a small group of Durins that Hermione had brought here through your doorway she’d called was introduced to and greeted by the Prime minister and pair of young teen Princes glad to be out of Buckingham Palace for the first time since settling. The young pair of royals drew curious subtle glances from the group wondering why you and Hermione both curtsied even in your place representing Remus at this occasion and buffering in the first meeting of new leaders of the kingdoms around those you had saved.

Just hours, exhibit by exhibit every animal through the protective barriers you witnessed their free roaming animals now happier in the magical near endless lands or waters to call their own. Every fact cherished and with floating magical camera following orders from the boys and men to capture certain moments they wished to keep.

By dinner you were back to your home for them to share all you had seen and let the Lords conference on your memory of Valinor. Every moment scrutinized for details on what the returned had missed with questions between on how long the spiders had descended there as well.

Curiously following a gentle tug you came to one of the larger spare rooms in one of the lesser used wings and pressing your ear to the door you could hear Opal inside making you smirk knowing why she’d moved here. Gently you knocked and a half hearted growl came through the wood making you say, “Opal, it’s Jaqi. I just wanted to ask if you’re in any pain.”

Through the wood you could tell the bristles behind her ears and eyebrows had shifted in a small recoil of her head snapping for a moment out of her protective mindset. “Iron said sometimes females have cramps with laying their clutches. I assume this is the nest you’ve chosen and I won’t force myself in if I am not welcome.”

“I am not in any pain. You are always welcome.” Timidly you eased the doorknob to turn and peeked inside seeing her sideways cocked head with both bright eyes fixed on you. Since your last session had fully healed her left eye and nearly fully healed the right that seemed to her to be growing clearer by the day with your Pheonix candies now working to heal the minor cataract like affliction to her lighter eye. “I have three eggs.”

A smile split across your face in her tail easing out to scoop you inside and bump the door shut again bringing you closer but still not right up to her nest in the room heated by the pile of wood and hot fire she kept lit to keep her eggs warm. “That is amazing. Three babies. I am so happy for you.” You said stroking her muzzle as her forehead pressed to yours. “Would you like me to tell Iron?”

She gave a nod and said, “He shall be pleased. I did not assume I might carry more than one egg from my injuries. Iron was eager all the same to aid in my clutch to grant me a chance.”

“Well you certainly made a great choice, and a great friend. I take it you might want to go to the breeding grounds then for a time?”

“No, males do not Mother the young for our kind. He shall meet them when they are just learning to fly, that is when his role begins.” Her eyes looked you over and she asked, “How are your mates?”

“They are well. Speaking with their friends about a trip I took through an enchanted pond of theirs. It seems I am still puzzling to them. Even myself occasionally.”

Lowly she chuckled and settled more around the trio of eggs on the mattress she’d pulled off the bed frame leaned up against the wall. “They will learn you. And their young seem to admire you as well. Such a large clutch for beginning a family.”

“Well I’ve never been one to follow the normal scheme of things, courting first then babies. You know me. Has to be as much juggling as possible.” She chuckled again and at the slight drop of her eyes you grinned saying, “I will let you sleep. You look exhausted. I’ll post a sign outside and let everyone know this is your nest.”

“Thank you, my dearest friend. Your kindness is the greatest treasure I have ever been graced with.”

Again you reached out to stroke her muzzle saying, “I feel very much the same Opal. Let me know if you need anything. Get some rest sweetheart.” The nickname making her smirk in her body coiling up around the trio of giant Opal like eggs as you made your way out again.

Across the door in various languages with a picture of Opal a sign spread the door to warn others in your turn to head through your enchanted door to find Iron, the Opaleye who had taken Opal as his mate. His excited roars and bounding around drew the Dragon Breeders over who joined in on his celebration with his family on his impressive three little ones to come. Far from the average dragon Opal was seen as far too timid to have been taken as a mate by all but Iron who could see the strength in enduring all she had faced and how powerful their little ones could be. A match that with time and now news of her very fertile status among her kind, who rarely had more than two eggs, had all the other breeds joining in on the celebrations as well. Each sending you home with tokens to hand over to the isolating mother to comfort her with their distant support until the hatching when she could introduce the triplets to them all.

Pt 34

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Glorfindel x Reader OC #HP Crossover #Opal and her eggs #Trip to the Zoo

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blissfulalchemist · 3 years

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and general + love for chance/faith THANK YOUUUUU

Thank you for inquiring about these two Ash!

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Faith was the first one to make the move of kissing Chance which then led to these two having a physical relationship that quickly developed into more emotional given both their shared history and the time they had spent together during the events of the Holy War. It was a waiting game for those two as Chance was unsure of starting the relationship and Faith got tired of waiting and just went for it.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

They never really had much of a first date, I mean kind of hard to during a time where you’re supposed to be hating the person. I digress though and while there are many things that they both say count as their first date but the one they both agree on is after Chance rejects joining the cult the second time and the two of them have mostly made up from their fight over Faith keeping their shared past from him. Chance invites her over to give a very old gift, a fishing rod that was to be a “Welcome to your new home” gift for Faith had Chance’s father not passed, and he teaches her how to fish. (I do plan on rewriting/reworking the original piece for that one soon to fit better in canon because I love it so much) It was just this very sweet moment that just felt almost normal to the two of them, like they had stumbled across one another like the Christmas Hallmark movies.

What was their first kiss like?

Their first kiss was under the Bridge of Tears after Chance tried to stop a small gun fight at the outreach center. Faith had come by looking for the members to bring them to be laid to rest and asked him to help board up the center as at the time it was really the only thing she had, that was hers and hers alone, left of Mary who was “dead”. Chance was debating if he should just go for the kiss and Faith took advantage and just pushed him against the rock face kissing him. He pushed her away to process a quick moment before kissing her again and proceeding to have sex under the bridge. You can read it in full here if you’d like

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

They were each other’s first friends if you want to go that far back, but they weren’t really either’s first for anything. Both had done a lot of things prior that make it hard to really answer. I guess Faith was Chance’s first love but he never got to act on it given that by the time he came back to Hope County as a teen she was gone.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

There is a 5′ height difference between the two with Chance being 5′10″ and Faith being 5′5″. Their age difference is only a year with Chance being 25 cir. 2018 and Faith being 24 cir. 2018.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Okay during the events after the arrest well its less than stellar. Chance is hated by the Seed brothers, with John being the most vocal about it (Sorry he just really wanted someone more capable to take Joseph down). Chance doesn’t have family in the typical sense during this time but they wouldn’t be very happy about the Seeds and would have been their rivals. The rest of Hope County becomes Chance’s family and we all know their opinion on the Seeds.

Okay given their shared childhood I will say that Faith/Rachel was well loved by Chance’s father and grandfather to the point that Ray was working on getting custody rights of Rachel to be in effect once he returned from his last and final research project. This is despite the friendship that Ray and Rachel’s father had as Ray was not down and never was down with the eventual treatment of his daughter and maintained the friendship solely to keep an eye on Rachel best he cold manage with his life at the time.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

This is pretty even as both are sociable. Chance is someone that likes to be part of the life of the party if not the life of the party. Faith has her way of charming people and can navigate her way around social situations and structures. So really context helps but both are willing to take the lead in social situations.

Who gets jealous easier?

I might have to give this one to Chance by the slightest margin because Chance is quicker to anger and a little more impulsive than Faith. It’s not a blinding rage but he will for sure start yelling at the person trying to hit on Faith or depending on close its seeming might throw a warning punch (RIP to Wes’ face in that one prompt long time ago)

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Faith, she’s much more inclined. Chance is weird in the sense that he’s very loud and out there and can joke about sex and things like that but he’s also very conservative about it given some of that silent generation values run a bit deep. If the two were to have been part of the cult she’d be whispering things in his ear during the sermons on occasion relishing in the blush it would give him.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

Okay to the actual words that Chance says are “I think I love you” giving this right to him. Granted he was drunk at the time and doesn’t remember saying it but he in the technical sense said it first. If you were to ask him though he would say that it was Faith with him confirming the reciprocation right after her so it was basically a tie.

What are their primary love languages?

The one they both share and becomes one more for Chance is touch. Being able to feel Faith know she’s there means she’s not going to be gone the next moment. Even after the Hebane is freed he still fears permanent effects of the Bliss. The other one is acts of service, these two it is important for them both to feel seen and cared for and the best way to do that is through those little acts like Faith leaving water and pain pills next to him when she finds him on a bender. Or Chance giving her his coat and shoes to protect her from the cold. Just these little things that one wouldn’t really think of all the time just mean a lot to these two.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Chance 100%. His dad was prone to cheesy jokes and puns and well that got passed on to Chance so yeah Faith is constantly hiding her face in embarrassment. The most hated is “Do you have 11 Protons? Because you are Sodium fine.” even I admit that is just....sigh my boy ladies and gentleman.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

A lot. They don’t get to a point of like banging in front of people but they need to know the other is still there so there is near constant hand holding, the kissing happens a lot, and well sometimes there are makeout sessions that start and well then yeah privacy is needed after that.

Who initiates kisses?

Pretty 50/50 on this but I give this one to Faith more so, as surprisingly Chance is more shy around Faith. He’s a mess I’m sorry.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

Chance is the big spoon most often while Faith is the little spoon.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Spending time outdoors, watching movies and shows together, and studying on their own terms once everything is all said and done. They both do enjoy the occasional party but they both have to be careful with who they party with.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

This honestly boils down what it is that the other needs comforting from. Both are very good at doing it but there are times where one can seem better at it than the other.

Who’s more protective?

By small margin this goes to Chance. Even after her “death” Chance tries to get access to her body to hold a proper burial. He is just very outward with his protectiveness and it becomes more intense after she’s switched sides having faked her death. Faith does what she can to protect Chance while still in the cult and after but there’s only so much she can do and hates being the damsel a lot of times but she is fierce and lord help anyone that actually managed to kill Chance.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Both would prefer the physical affection more than anything. The Bliss and their past has had an effect on them both to the point that they fear the other being gone in an instant.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

So two songs that fit with them the first being “Evil Angel” by Breaking Benjamin and the other being “American Money” by Borns. These two as a pair works wonders as it shows both sides of their relationship pre switch for Faith. You have the darker aspects of the Bliss and the more dependency/hold it has on Chance. While the other is more to the lighter side of it all, the love that was never acted on all those years ago, this magical quality that just makes it feel unreal. Just overall these two songs work well as a pair and fit them and their relationship very well.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Chance doesn’t like nicknames, at all, but Faith gets exception because well its Faith and its been his nickname since he was a kid practically. She calls him White Knight and Sailor Scout, the former being a part of the games they used to play in the woods and the latter as they got older as a way to tease him for his love for the anime. Chance calls her Princess which she doesn’t particularly like but its one of those names that he’s called her since she was a child so there’s no going back.

Who remembers the little things?

Faith. Chance also inherited the head in the clouds/gets too focused on things to really remember things from Ray. It’s endearing as Chance is better at managing it than his father.

#x: emo flower child #okay that chart was referenced for one question for confirmation and man was that a trip #but i love these two all day everyday #post now and reblog for the morning crowd as I'm probably going to forget with my double shift tomorrow

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wherearemyglassesbro · 4 years

Text

Why Francis is That Way: A series of headcanoned events that led to the ancient man we have now long post warning

Baby’s First Abandonment: When Fran was VERY little, physically 6 or so (idk 50 years old?? I don’t know nation ages) his mother Gual was his main caretaker. They lived in a small village with nomadic people by a river, very nice! Very aesthetic. Gual was close friends with many villagers so naturally Francis became close with them too, leading to them becoming his second family of sorts. One night Gual came back after bei Nd gone for a few days, Fran didn’t think much of it, and insisted he stay inside for the night with her. She made a special dinner and cuddled him all night and sang him to sleep and in the morning, she was gone. Francis, again, didn’t mind cause his mom left frequently for hunts so he went about his week. After a month he became worried and after six, he started flipping out. Tantrums and screaming and the villagers all had a felling his mom was dead so the woman with the most kids took him in. This was Francis’ first abandonment and this is what began his somewhat clingy nature. (He now knows that when his mother left, she went to fight Rome...and lost)

The First Heartbreak of Many: A long time later, I don’t know how many years, Francis met Arthur. Fran traveled with a new nomadic tribe now and went across the channel with them for the first time and found that lil stinker. Arthur and his brothers lived close to the water too so it was easy to find them! As years and years went on, Arthur and the other kirklands were Francis’s only friends! When the Auld Alliance was formed, he and Alastair were ‘married’ for awhile, which Francis very much enjoyed. He never had a lover before! He was still young for a nation, so was Ali so this was a first for them both. In his naivety, Fran believed that he and Ali would be together forever! But within a decade or so, Ali became more distant. Eventually he sat Francis down and told him “I love ya, I really do, but...Not as a wife. You’re a boy...And...I don’t like boys in a ‘wife’ way” of course Ali was very nice about it!! He was nothing but nice to Francis but that still broke his lil heart and the next day he insisted on going to live back home with his people to sulk. Sulk was probably the wrong word but what he did was lay in his hut for days on end, not leaving and crying a lot. He really thought he’d have someone to love forever and for the first time, he was broken up with

Too Young: As he grew up into a cocky teenager, he made many more nation friends. He called Antonio ‘cousin’ in an endearing way and spent a lot of time with him! He fought with Arthur a lot because now that little kid was growing physically too and they could fight their frustrations out like Real Men (they were not). By now, Francis had been with many women and a handful of men so he had Experience in relationships now. He’d talked to Antonio about a certain someone...Someone who...Has been trading around Italy...Sadik. It took awhile after first hearing about him to see him and oh lord, Francis fell for him on the spot! He was all he talked about with Toni and Artie for awhile!! His friends weren’t very supportive “Listen, idiot, he’s far older than you are it just wouldn’t work out!” “Franny, he’s so cruel, I’ve seen some of the things he’s done” but we know our boy is not one to listen to other. So of course, he perused Sadik and got exactly what he wanted. Both parties did, actually. Francis didn’t care about Sadik’s religion and Sadik felt the same way, they were attracted to eachother. Sadik liked Fran for his feminine features and his strength and Francis was extremely attracted to Sadik in almost all aspects of who he was. This ‘relationship’, if you could even call it that, was based on lust and not love so it didn’t last more than three years. It ended in an explosive fight with Francis saying Sadik was too self centered and Sadik calling him too young and stupid. Not exactly the way you should end a relationship. Both were upset at the split and went their separate ways. What did Francis learn from this experience? He learned not to rely on looks and that older men were a pain in the ass....But that didn’t stop him from persuing him again in the 1900s and I oop-

Humans Cant Provide What Nations Need: We all know the story of Joan of Arc so I won’t waste time describing that. Francis and Joan were close and Francis felt a very intense love for her. So intense that he longed for her when she was away and felt her pain himself when she was hurt. Was this a complication of being a nation? Possibly. But he thought it was his heart belonging to her. After centuries of living THIS girl was it! This was his soulmate! This had to be her, the woman he would love forever! And then the English came. When she died Francis felt dead on the inside and sank into a deep deeeeeep depression. Arthur later came to see him and told him a few things “Listen...It wasn’t personal. I didn’t want to hurt you, you were never the target. But you can’t depend on humans the way you depended on her...They dont last long...And they don’t come back...” Francis learned to be more closed off towards humans. Developing connections with them in this way wasn’t just unhealthy...It was stupid too

The Child: Skipping history again here! So Francis raised Matthew and Arthur raised Alfred for the most part UNTIL the English government decided they wanted Arthur to have custody over Matthew. After a lot of back and forth, the French agreed to give Matthew over without Francis’s consent. Naturally, Francis was DEVASTATED!!! He was such a good father. Every night he sang Matthew to sleep, he made him his favorite cookies, he let him pick out clothes, he cut his hair, he kissed his cheeks and hugged him and loved him so much! And now that horrid englishman was taking his son away! He blamed Arthur even though it wasn’t his decision. Francis chose to deliver Matthew himself so they could spend some time together. Francis dropped him off and practically dragged Arthur away from the house to yell at him without the kids heading. He yelled and punched him in the shoulder and yelled some more, let all of his hurt out. And when he was done having his adult tantrum he felt...worse. They went inside and spent time together as a family and later apologized to his dearest friend with a kiss on the cheek and breakfast in bed the next morning. He learned to be more mature and handle his feelings in another way than yelling and to be the adult his kids need

The Light Switch: Between the world wars, Fran and Artie finally got together. During the second ww, Fran was taken by the Germans and kept as a prisioner. When he was finally retrieved and brought home two years later he was a big ol mess. Arthur stayed with him at his house. The lights all needed to stay on, no loud noises, the doors were locked and checked over and over and over. Francis would insist he was fine until he was blue in the face but at the end of the day, he really needed Arthur and was so thankful for him being there. At this time he really needed someone there and Art had a lot of shared trauma so they got even closer through that. Fran didn’t learn much from this but what he did was become more open with his closest, dearest friend and become his lover. They became eachother’s support through this time and grew a lot from that together :) now the lights can be off and they can sleep soundly if a door went unlocked somewhere but they both can’t stand those thunderstorms that shake the house. Those kinds of storms bring back horrible memories for them and that’s an excuse to just hold eachother closer

Conclusion: Fran has issues with seperation and rejection cause of all of this and even though hes hella old he still is naive despite his smarts and even though he knows it’s bad, he listens to his heart more than his head

Thank you for reading this far!!!!!

#hetalia #aph #hetalia headcanons #ask away #ask away!#always up for hc requests #aph france #hws france #fruk #turkfra #scotfra #face family #aph england #hws england #hws turkey #aph turkey #hws scotland #aph scotland #aph gual

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myhauntedsalem · 3 years

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13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps

Without further ado, here are thirteen of some of the creepiest psych ward stories on the internet that have been shared by health care professionals.

1. Holding her own Eyes

My mom told me this story from her time at a neuropsychiatric ward while she was in grad school. She was making her routine room checks and happened upon the most horrific scene I’ve ever heard.

The first staff member to witness the scene, who was now lying face down on the floor, had a heart attack when he first witnessed the woman while he was making his rounds.

My mom screamed for help and frantically tried to perform CPR on the staff member. All the while, the woman just sat rather calmly, holding her own eyes.

2. The Saw

I work as a psychotherapist in a hospital system. My definition of creepy is probably quite a bit different from other medical professionals.

He has since completed suicide.

3. Jane?

4. The Vampire

My mom worked in mental institutions in her younger years (and actually worked at a large, well-known asylum before it was shut down.)

By the time that they discovered there was something physically wrong with her, she already had lost her mind from guilt and grief.

5. The Spitter

6. The Only One

Finally, my counselor asked him if the bird was bothering him and he kind of sighed and said, “Thank god, I thought I was the only one seeing that.”

7. Family Photographs

My sister is the director of a psychiatric hospital. There was recently a lady there who would cut her arms, legs and torso open and place photographs of her family under her skin.

8. Under the Bed

They were stories of patients who had stayed here before, or ways they were planning on killing themselves, or who the good and bad nurses were. It creeped me out.

9. Time of Death

10. The Test Subject

“You can see I’m not irrational,” the man said. “I’m just straight-up telling you that they are doing this to me. I know just how unbelievable it sounds, and yet, here I am.”

11. The Boy who Loved Knives

I believe I met a 7-year-old psychopath.

12. The New Mom

13. Bugs

#13 True Horror Stories from the Psychiatric Ward that Will Give You the Creeps #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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roswelldetails · 4 years

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Episode 2x04 - What if God Was One of Us

EPISODE SUMMARY:

AN ACT OF GOD — On the verge of a breakthrough in her quest to save Max (Nathan Dean), Liz (Jeanine Mason) turns to Kyle (Michael Trevino) for one last favor that could potentially land him in hot water. Meanwhile, Michael (Michael Vlamis) and Alex’s (Tyler Blackburn) investigation into Nora (guest star Kayla Ewell) leads them to a farm, where they meet a historian named Forrest (guest star Christian Antidormi). Elsewhere, Cameron (guest star Riley Voelkel) confronts Jesse Manes (Trevor St. John) about her sister’s whereabouts, and Isobel (Lily Cowles) uses her powers for good. Amber Midthunder also stars. Shiri Appleby directed the episode written by Steve Stringer & Christopher Hollier (#204). Original airdate 4/6/2020.

DETAILS:

Roy said that he took veterinary training, which is how he was able to help with Louise and Nora's injuries.

"How come it feels like you don't know what I'm saying, but you know what I'm thinking?"

Roy moved the truck (with the pods in it?) to the livery.

"Boss's wife won't let him blame the drought on God so that honor goes to his foreman -- that's me."

Kyle on The Science:

"You're telling me that Michael Guerin used pinball parts and a car battery to cause cutaneous perfusion?

(Cutaneous perfusion...i think it is circulation of fluid/blood through tissue, but it's a bit above my head)

The device Liz needs is a "Personal Genome Machine". She ordered it when she still worked at the hospital.

Before entering the Crashdown, Graham Green tapes a Missing sign on the door for Hank Gibbons (who Noah killed in 1x13). Apparently someone covered it up.

The sign is HARD to read, but I think it says:

"All viable leads reported to Graham Green's UFO Emporium will receive a free keychain. Make certain you subscribe to the Weekly Probe as we dive deeper into the untold stories of Roswell and answer the question on everyone's mind. ARE YOU NEXT?"

Graham Green references that he's the "creator of last week's 39th most downloaded true crime podcast." (Assuming that this is the Weekly Probe, referenced on the poster).

Graham Green is opening a 1947 themed malt shop at the UFO Emporium

U.F. Doughs (the Crashdown's new donuts).

Isobel's been coming to the Crashdown every day for weeks. (Note that this episode is the first one that really doesn't have a clear time context).

"Feliz cumpleanos, mama!" Happy birthday in Spanish, of course, but note Kyle's choice term of endearment for fic purposes! And she responds in kind "Gracias, mijo!" (Mijo = male version. Arturo calls Liz mija = female version)

"A wild Michael Guerin finally emerges from his weeks-long hibernation in a lab and a library."

Again, non-specific time frame.

"When every other farm was struggling, the Longs experienced record-breaking crops. Summer of '47. No one could explain it…till October '48. The day after that photo ran in the paper, the farm was devastated by a massive fire. Foreman, entire staff killed. Whole place burned down."

"What caused the fire?"

"Well the paper called it an act of God. Said it was a freak storm. Bolt of lightning strikes the barn the same night that my mom's caught and locked up in Caulfield."

Wyatt Long's horses are named "Diamond" and "Silk".

Jesse Manes' beer of choice is "Polestaff".

Cam's postcard from Charlie (Likely the reason she came back to Roswell) says:

"See you back in Roswell --Charlotte"

Top left corner says "Greetings from Roswell, NM".

It was mailed to Jenna at the Green Hill Motel in Dayton, Ohio.

Jenna says it's not Charlie's handwriting.

Isobel in the mindwarp: "And what's your dream, Arturo? What would be your miracle? What do you pray for?"

Arturo & Rosa's fight…

"Did that fool give you drugs? I'll kill him!"

"Ow! You're hurting me! That's child abuse!"

"Everything I do I do to hold you up and you see it as abuse. I don't know what to do anymore!"

"Yeah right." Rosa falls down and laughs.

"This isn't funny! Sheriff Valenti won't give you any more chances."

"You should be happy. You wanted me to be on the field hockey team, remember? You said I should make friends and have good American fun."

"Who sold you the pills?"

"I stole them."

"Was it Frederico?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Tell me the truth!"

"It was Mom! She's either too high to notice that they're missing, or she knows and she doesn't care."

"You're lying to me. I don't know how to help you."

"So stop trying then. I'm beyond hope anyway, right? That's what everyone else in this town thinks."

"Maybe you're right. I'm going for a drive."

Arturo tried to register with Instagram as PancakePapi!! He ended up with PancakePapi58!

Scene with Steph and her dad...FIRST MENTION OF SOPAPILLAS ON THE SHOW!!! 🤤🤤🤤🤤 (They're the best...in New Mexican restaurants they're like, both an appetizer and a dessert. They're like hollow fried bread that you eat with honey. Delicious.) See here:

Plus it gave the show another opportunity to be authentically New Mexican through food references. (Last season it was in episode 2 when Arturo asked,"red or green?" And Liz replied "Christmas!". In New Mexico that means half red half green chile smothering her plate.) Like so:

1948...unclear how much time has passed, but Louise says months.

The kid's name is Walt. (Walt Long?? Some other last name?).

Nora says that under the tarp is the "pumpkin launcher" and it's a surprise.

Nora says it's not safe for Michael here, "but soon."

"Hey do you smell that? It smells like rain. It's what you smell like under all the grease and bourbon. It's what your workshop smells like. Something alien happened here. Not that I can still smell it 70 years later."

"This is the best evidence I've seen that Max and Isobel's mother survived the initial firefight. This is something that you do with family."

"Nora's my mother. If she was here at the same time as Louise…"

Note - when did they confirm who Louise was or that she was Max & Isobel's mom? This has not happened narratively yet.

Since Walt was a young kid, Alex thinks there's a chance he's still alive (though at the end Nora definitely thought he died when the barn blew up. I suspect that Walt survived and is the key to the story...not fact, just speculation.)

Forrest: "The foreman, Roy Bronson, was definitely hiding something. But it wasn't Little Green Men. It was Nazi spies."

"This is like Junior Year eraser room, getting caught by Coach Wiggins."

OG callback to the eraser room being the high school makeout spot. OG, "the eraser room takes our innocence."

Rosa in Spanish "¿En serio?" Basically "are you serious!?!" Or "really?" When the blender shorts out (awfully similar to her first Noah nightmare in 2x01)

"...when Charlie told me she had stole classified documents, I reported her. I thought I was doing the right thing and the military put her in prison."

"Right. Where she was safe."

"No. I… I didn't know who she really was when I turned her in. I didn't know what prison would do to her."

"She wanted you to turn her in, Jenna. She set you up to do so. She knew that as long as she was in government custody no one could get to her."

"Charlie fought in two wars. Who was she afraid of?"

"A private securities firm, most likely. You know that I met her? She was working on this genetic sequencing project that had the potential to save lives, but also destroy them. And there were some people out there who saw applications for her research that went beyond her intentions."

"She was doing research that could help save lives, and people wanted to use it to create a bioweapon."

"Well yeah, she created this pathogen that could seek out and dismantle specific sequences. Just think about it -- a smart bomb that could be detonated in the middle of a crowded city, only harm it's intended target. Think about the innocent civilian lives saved while you take out leaders of terrorist organizations."

"Or commit genocide. If her work fell into the wrong hands, it could quietly wipe out entire groups of people because they share a certain genetic code, while their neighbors go about living their lives. Why do you know so much about this? What's your interest in my sister?"

"I believed that I had a use for her pathogen, at one time. But my fight is over now."

A few notes about this exchange.

Clearly Charlie's pathogen is the key ingredient in the smart bomb that Flint was developing, as discussed in 1x12.

Liz's "personal genome machine" can break down the alien genetics and give Project Shepherd what they need to use a smart bomb on the aliens.

Don't forget, her lab is protected by Air Force security set up by "Alex's team". (Badbadbadbad!)

Rosa describing her bipolarism.

"I get these mood swings sometimes. Like, I can be happy and singing one minute, and then, all of a sudden, this darkness just closes in over me, and I have all these voices telling me that I'm worthless."

Jesse gives Cam the name of the security firm looking for Charlie. We don't see the name of it. He warns her to be careful. "I may be hobbled but they are not."

"Now, you were hunting aliens, and I gave you Max's name. Why didn't you lock him up in Caulfield with the rest?"

"I don't know. I guess I feel like there's a story unfolding in Roswell. Has been for more than 50 years. You can't blame me for wanting to see how it ends."

Catherine Zeta-Jones in a laser maze -- Liz is referencing the 1999 movie Entrapment.

Liz trying to science-intrigue Kyle….

"Interesting historical footnote. There was an internment camp in Roswell. Nazi POWs built half this city. Hence the iron crosses. My great-great grandfather BoDean's foreman got busted for hiding a couple of women here. According to him 'A couple Nazi spies escaped and strudeled their schnitzel for room and board right here on this very farm. See, I was never really as into shooting squirrels as Wyatt is, so, when I came out here for summers as a kid, my cousin Kate and I -- we'd prowl the property for artifacts."

"You know, what we're doing you and me -- it doesn't only have to be for Max...once Max is healthy, we could use this genome machine to Target cellular apoptosis. I mean, we could craft polymerase sequencing in human DNA. We don't have to stop. We have no boards, no restrictions…"

Apoptosis is also sometimes referred to as "cellular suicide" or "spontaneous single cell death".

Polymerase is like the building blocks of DNA.

In other words, Liz is really, really smart.

FORREST LONG!!!!!! 😂😂😂.

Alex on the bullet shells: "These match the M1917s the airmen used in '48.

"They were scattered all over the property. Legend has it the Nazis we're building some kind of bomb in the barn. Then one night the Air Force showed up."

"The night of the fire."

"The blaze burned so hot it turned sand to stone. Papers say that lightning struck the barn and everyone died in the flames, but...that's bull. See I think the Air Force covered up the massacre that happened when they discovered that weapon.

A few things on this scene…

Forrest mentions his cousin Kate...Wyatt's sister who was murdered by Noah in 2008. So Forrest is Wyatt Long's cousin.

Substitute Nazi for alien and it's probably all based somewhat based in truth. In the 1940s that definitely would have been a reasonably obvious way to cover it up, especially given the history that Forrest cites and the military culture in Roswell.

Note: POW = prisoner of war

The iron crosses Forrest references…

Article on the German POWs in the Roswell Daily Record…

Walt was hiding in the barn when Tripp made it explode. Explosion looked shimmery, like the alien ship & tech.

Also, more info than you ever wanted to know about the Roswell Army Air Field/Walker Air Force Base/Roswell International Air Center...including some info on the POWs.

Sheriff Valenti's theory on Noah's death:

"I think Max Evans poisoned Noah and left him in the desert the night of the lightning storm, and I think Isobel Evans was in on it."

Kyle says it would take gallons of acetone to poison someone.

Tripp was Alex's great uncle

Nora was working on a ship to take the pods home.

TRIPP MANES!!! Full name is Eugene Manes III.

Alex finally gives Michael the piece of alien ship he's had. He doesn't want to be another Manes man standing in Michael's way.

Cam's voicemail to Liz.

"Got a lead on my sister. Give me a call when you get that tin-star-wearing E.T. awake, so I can curse him out for worrying us all. Good luck Liz. Bring Max home."

Arturo's Spanish to Liz and Rosa.

"Das gracias a Dios. Gracias todos los dias."

Translates generally to "Thank God. Thanks every day."

Isobel's monologue at the end:

"The idea of God always freaked me out. Like, apparently he made people in his own image, which, first of all, get over yourself. And also, does that apply to us? Does every planet have its own God? Let's say that we're all clones of the big guy in the sky. Well then, doesn't it stand to reason that we're all capable of slinging light? Well I guess by that same token we're all capable of tremendous wrath. We're walking contradictions. A never-ending mercurial rise and fall. Darkness and light. I guess the real miracle is choosing the light. Despite the ever-present darkness. Look at us. You're in the middle of a downright biblical desert, galaxies from where we started. I mean, our very existence is a miracle. I'm capable of so much more than I thought I was, Max. I really think that maybe I could do great things. I need you to come back, okay? I need you to be the thing that I can believe in. That doesn't let me down. I just need this one little miracle, and I promise I won't ever ask for anything ever again."

MUSIC:

1. LEN "Steal My Sunshine"

2. Spacehog "In The Meantime"

3. Duke Ellington "Take It Easy"

4. Maná "Como Te Deseo"

5. Oasis "Don't Look Back In Anger"

6. Ben Harper "Waiting On An Angel"

#roswell new mexico #rnm season 2 #episode details #long post #what if god was one of us #rnm 204

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