#just. for now I'm still stuck on step 1 : finding a decent job | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jinmukangwrites · 3 years

Text

succumb (1/?)

Note: "?" because I don't know if I'm actually going to continue this. All I know is that I saw this post from Liccy and couldn't stop thinking about it (hopefully you don't mind me leeching a little off of your fantastic hc). I just had to write something or else I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it. Unless I decide to make more of this, I'll keep this just in Tumblr for now.

Summary: While collecting firewood after a harsh day of traveling, Wild and Hyrule find themselves ambushed and alone, facing a mysterious enemy that wants Hyrule for something Wild doesn't understand... or more specifically: they want Hyrule's blood.

Tws and warnings in tags

-o-o-o-o-

It’s a night filled with the chill of air fresh after rain. The damp grass and twigs lining the ground below the still dripping trees squish below Wild’s boots as he walks, his eyes sharp for anything that could be useful.

Today’s been a rather taxing day on his energy, and he can tell it’s been the same with the others. The constant rain has caused the paths to become slick with mud and the rivers too dangerous to cross. To top it all off, they don’t even know who’s world they are in; making it so that as they journey they don’t even know where they are going.

Wild hates the rain.

But luckily, he’s not assigned with the behemoth task of finding dry firewood alone. Hyrule walks beside him, his pants and tunic blotched with dark colors thanks to the puddle he had fallen into a few minutes before.

The quite literal stumbles here and there put aside… they’ve actually done a decent job at gathering firewood so far. A few hours into their search they both have arms cradling rather hefty loads of dry twigs and branches found in miracle spots hiding under rocks and undergrowth, untouched from the rain.

A cold win stirs, causing Wild to suppress a shiver as he straightens out of picking up another stick to add to his impressive collection. He probably should have worn a warmer tunic while heading out, but Wind was looking miserable in the cold and didn’t look used to this kind of chill, so he had lent his snowquill tunic and didn’t have the heart to take it back as the poor kid sat sniffling in the driest part of camp.

Wild mentally begins to make a list of things he has that could go in a warming soup once they have a fire going. If none of them have colds tomorrow morning, he will eat Legend’s hat.

“We should head back,” Wild calls towards his companion. Behind him, Hyrule straightens up from where he was quite hilariously resembling an old man squatting down to pick up a book they have dropped. His arms are overloaded with wood, and Wild’s sure if he bends any lower he would be struggling to pick up the sticks he will undoubtedly start dropping.

“You think we have enough?” Hyrule asks.

Wild hums and looks at the two armfuls they have gathered. They need enough to last them for dinner and through the night, and a little extra if the fire happens to go out from unpredictable rain storms through the night. It’s not like Wild’s scars would be able to help him tell the oncoming storms; they’ve been none-stop aching since they found themselves in this unfamiliar forest.

After a moment of sizing up their bundles, Wild nods. “Yeah, if we’re smart with it we shouldn’t have to worry.”

Hyrule snorts. “Smart with it? Tell that to the blacksmith. He’s the one that tried to light Vet’s hair on fire.”

“In his defense, Vet kinda deserved it.”

“He accidentally caught Wolfie’s tail on fire.”

Wild snorts. “To be fair, he kinda deserved it too.”

Hyrule gives an unimpressed look to which Wild responds with a grin and as much of a shrug he can manage without dropping anything. The wind brushes past them and through the leaves in the trees, reminding them both that the night is approaching and banter can perhaps wait until they’re warm at a fire.

“C’mon,” Wild says, “we should get going.”

Hyrule’s face splits into a grin and rushes to catch up with Wild as he begins to walk back towards the direction of camp. The sound of mud squelching beneath their boots accompanies his thoughts as they go. He hopes they’ve set up the pots and pans he needs to make dinner like he asked them to. He’d like to get something warm in his belly as soon as possible and it would be so much quicker if the others realized they could maybe help make dinner sometimes.

He’s in the middle of planning out his next moves once they’re back with the others when it happens. It’s achingly familiar too—the way the air seems to turn foul and the shadows of the trees grow within the blink of an eye. Through his travels alone… before he fought and defeated Calamity Ganon… things were hardly ever perfectly okay. Safety was always rare, and things could go sour quicker than what you would expect. Wild quickly trained himself to always be aware of the dangers around him, even if everything seemed happy and safe. It saved his back more times than what he could admit, even if the pressure of anxiety pressing down on his ribs was more constant than a place for him to spend the night.

He could sense everything about to go wrong a moment before it does. He’s not sure what’s made him aware of the change—whether it’s the quieting of crows or the darkening sky—but one thing is for sure, this time he’s not quick enough to stop it.

He sees Hyrule twitch besides him and drop all of the firewood in his arms right into the mud. His hands fly to his neck as Wild drops his load and pulls out his sword. He hears a zip and catches the flash of light just in time to jump out of the way of a flying arrow.

Immediately, Wild is in battle mode. With practiced movements that he doesn’t even think about anymore, his shield is off of his back and on his non-dominant hand just-in-the-nick-of-time to block two more arrows with an equal number of thunks. With rising adrenaline, Wild looks over at Hyrule and what he sees makes his stomach twist. There, just a few strides out of arm's reach, Hyrule stumbles and tugs his hands away from his neck; grasped in his fingers is a small, thin twig with a feather on one end and a metal glint on the other. It isn’t hard to guess what’s exactly going on as Hyrule stumbles again with fluttering eyelids.

This isn’t any old attack from monsters in the forest, Wild concludes as he begins to rush towards his poisoned friend.

This is an ambush.

Just before Wild can reach Hyrule, a form jumps down from the trees between them. Wild has a split-second to recognize the glint of misshapen armor bent to fit a large reptile's body before the Lizalfols is swinging a sharp boomerang right for his throat. Wild steps back and raises his shield before he could be hit, however he has to work hard to suppress a frustrated snarl as he’s forced to widen the distance between himself and the barely standing Hyrule. He can see the other hero struggling to pull out his sword as more figures emerge from the surrounding trees.

“Alright, ugly,” Wild hisses under his breath as he shoves his shield out with calculated power. He needs to finish this quickly before Hyrule gets himself more hurt so he can figure out what poison was used and if the others are okay.

The Lizalfos screeches and stumbles back, waving its weapon wildly. Wild takes its struggle to regain balance as an opportunity to rush forward and swing his sword right for the weak spots of its armor. The monster screams impossibly high with unhuman chords before falling limp on his sword, however Wild doesn’t have time to celebrate before claws dig into his shoulders. Stifling a cry of pain, Wild is forced to let go of his lodged sword to catch his fall on his hands and knees. The well-known shriek of a bokoblin reaches his ears as he throws his weight to the side to dislodge the thing. Luckily, he’s successful, ending up on his back with the perfect position to swing his shield at the exact right moment to hit the bokoblin right in the snout as it tries to jump at him again.

“Champ!” calls a shaky voice. Hyrule.

He doesn’t sound too good.

And judging how there are several more monsters here than what he remembered before ending up on the ground… neither of them will be too good soon if he doesn’t act.

He scrambles to his feet, barely noticing how soaked in rain and mud he is now, and grabs a stick on his way up that he had previously dropped. He swings it like a bat at the next closest bokoblin—mourning his sword and mentally kicking himself for getting it stuck in the corpse of a fucking lizard—but he only manages to slightly stun it for a moment before its running after him with pig-like gurgles quicker than what he can properly lift his shield. However, before the creature can hit him, there's the flash of a friendly blade, cutting the beast down mid-air. Before him stands Hyrule, looking very pale with beads of sweat trailing down from his hairline. Wild’s about to nod his thanks, but two things happen at once that makes everything go completely downhill.

Wild sees Hyrule’s eyes roll up to his skull right before the air is knocked out of him via a viscous swing of a tail to his ankles, resulting in him landing heavily on his back.

Monsters all around him squeal with glee as Wild attempts to catch his breath and struggle to his feet. However, before he can do so, the heavy body of the lizalfos responsible for taking him down lands on his back, expelling any of the air Wild had left in his lungs. For a horrifying second, Wild’s almost afraid his head is about to be removed from his body with the flash of a sharp boomerang.

Shockingly enough, that doesn’t happen. While he feels the blade slide right against his jaw, his skin does not break. With the tug of a clawed hand in his hair, he quickly finds this isn’t a kind of ambush that he’s used to. Most surprise monster attacks stay exactly as it appears to be: an all-out attack with no more intentions than to stab things and scream loudly.

This one however is proving itself to be a little different. They want something, something that they’d keep Wild pinned on the ground with a blade to his throat alive.

Thanks to the hand holding his head up by his hair—sending a rather vicious kink into his neck as he’s still stuck on his stomach—Wild can see Hyrule completely collapsed on the ground with a few monsters hovering over him with excited snorts and grunt.

He can’t believe the two of them have been bested by monsters as low in skill as these.

Something more has to be going on.

And, just as that thought crosses his mind, there’s the sound of booted feet approaching on the soggy ground. The new presence comes behind from where Wild is pinned, so he cannot see them. However, based on the even steps and the whoosh of cloth, he can at least infer that they’re not a monster… or at least something a bit more humanoid.

His suspicions are confirmed once the figure steps into view. They look the build of a Hylian; though below the cloak that covers their face and exposes nothing but the shadow of a pointed chin… they must be a rather tall Hylian.

Which definitely isn’t good. Monsters are one thing—creatures born out of hatred and greed—but a Hylian who’s born as pure as any other human and animal in the world choosing to work with monsters? Deal with wickedness? They’re always the bigger threat. If the Yiga clan alone isn’t proof enough that Hylia’s creations can inhibit more darkness than the lowest of beasts, then Wild would ask what shrine you've been sleeping in.

Not like he could ask that now, not as the cloaked figure steps right past Wild without sparing a single glance. Wild cannot help but feel his stomach twist in fear as the person kneels down by the unmoving and unarmed Hyrule. They place a pale hand on Hyrule’s forehead, making Wild’s skin crawl.

“Get away from him!” Wild snarls, digging his fingers into the mud and attempting to push the heavy lizalfos off from him, but all that does is cause the creature to hiss and tighten the blade.

The cloaked intruder doesn’t respond nor quit in their endeavors of getting too close to Hyrule for Wild’s comfort. In fact, Wild almost thinks they didn’t even hear him.

He’s about to shout out once again—angry with being ignored—but the breath leaving his lungs fall silent as the figure brushes back Hyrule’s hair with a verbal sigh. Then, to Wild’s horror, the figure pulls back to their cloak to bring out a small vial filled with a deep purple liquid.

“What is that?” Wild demands as the lid of the vial is popped off and lowered towards Hyrule’s pale lips. “Don’t you fucking dare-” suddenly the air is squeezed from his body, forcing his protests to cease, as the lizalfos leans more of it’s weight onto his back to press his face down into the mud.

He doesn’t see what happens next, but he can put two and two together when a few silent moments pass before those human footsteps begin to finally head Wild’s way. The clawed hand in his hair loosens ever so slightly as slim fingers slip under his chin. Next thing Wild knows, he’s blinking through dripping eyelashes at the shadowed face of the cloaked figure.

Wild, of course, takes the opportunity to spit a wad of mud at the face of his enemy thanks to his little face-meets-dirt session.

He’s pretty sure he hits his mark, because in a blink of an eye Wild is no longer pinned on the ground, but lifted into the air by his neck. His feet scramble for purchase when there is none as his hands fly to his throat. The pressure on his neck is so intense that he doesn’t think to try and look at the face of his attacker. He can only gulp for trapped air like a fish out of water. Then, just like that, the pressure on his throat is released as he finds himself thrown back into the waiting arms of various monsters. Before Wild can attempt to find his bearings, his wrists are twisted violently behind his back; the motion almost yanks his limbs from their sockets. After a few gasps, it's all Wild can do to stand there with their physical restraints of clawed hands and send a cold glare at the cloaked figure.

The cloaked figure radiates irritation from where they stand, but Wild spares only a moment to bare his teeth at them before glancing back to where he'd last seen Hyrule.

He can’t see Hyrule’s face, but he’s no longer laying prone on the floor. He’s currently sat up with his chin limply touching his chest as a pair of monsters work together to bind his wrists behind his back.

Knowing that villains don’t usually restrain corpses, Wild concludes that Hyrule is still alive and returns his anger at the cloaked figure.

Wild takes a deep breath and speaks through hissing teeth, “who are you?”

“I would watch your tongue, hero,” the figure says, their voice not distinct enough to be dubbed male or female. However, Wild can practically feel the annoyance in their tone traveling down his spine. “We don’t need both of you, and your small friend is not the expendable one.”

The words settle in Wild’s gut like moss covered stones. This really isn’t any normal attack or ambush… this was a targeted mission.

Hyrule is the target.

“What do you want with him?”

The figure chuckles, their shoulders bounce in such an undeniably human way that it makes Wild feel sick to his core. “It never fails to amuse me that none of you seem to truly understand just how much more powerful and important this one is compared to the rest of you.” The cloaked figure walks towards Wild with arms spread wide. “His blood alone is more powerful than any form of magic known to any sorcerer.”

“What are you talking about?” Wild spits, forcing his face to remain cold and angry despite the pool of confusion and fear that’s beginning to swell around those moss stones in his gut.

The figure hums and tilts their covered head. After another moment, they speak with an amused tone, walking slowly towards Wild. “That slate on your belt... you’re the hero from the far future, oh how convenient. Tell me, have you ever wondered why the monsters come back to life?”

Wild doesn’t get a chance to answer before the figure stops right in front of him. He hates that even though he cannot see their face, he can practically taste the smug victory radiating off from them.

“Don’t you wonder why the moon shines red with blood?”

Wild swallows. “What does that have to do with anything?” He looks over where Hyrule is placed. “What does that have to do with him?”

The figure chuckles and leans forward close enough that Wild can almost see an outline of a pointed nose. “Everything.”

Then, with a flick of their hand, something hard smacks against the back of Wild’s skull. The world spins and pain shoots through his head and into every speck of his body. He blinks, and suddenly he’s leaning bonelessly into the grasps of the monsters behind him, the corners of his vision going black.

The last thing he sees is the figure turning back towards Hyrule with a flick of their cloak.

Then, his eyes fall shut and he knows no more.

#linked universe #hero of the wild #hero of hyrule #blood tw #violence tw #kidnapping tw #poisoning tw #fanfiction #jin writes #let me know if i missed any tags <3

151 notes · View notes

myfearless-love · 3 years

Text

The Wildest Place You Run (5/?) - Not Far Now

I'm sorry for the delay: traveling and vacation made it impossible to post, but in turn, you'll get two chapters this week (including this). This one is a bit shorter, but you'll see why in the next chapter (spoiler alert: too many action).

As always, a huge thank you to my beta and artist @thejollyroger-writer for correcting my mistakes and making kick-ass art for chapters 5 and 6! Check it out above!

Summary:

Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation...

Chapter: 5/? - Not Far Now

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Rating: M

Relationships: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Words: ~2k

Previous parts:

Ch 1 II Ch 2 II Ch 3 II Ch 4

The next morning she woke up on the couch, curled up, leaning her head on the armrest. Someone, probably August, had covered her with a blanket and left her there. She was used to it, he often disappeared without a word, and he was the only one she couldn't hold it against.

She sat up slowly, and it took her half a minute to discover she was alone.

Again.

She scrambled out from under the quilt and slipped out into the kitchen. Her neck was throbbing, she was cold, and she still felt exhausted despite the few hours of sleep she'd gotten. Her day had started out shitty.

Again.

(There were many recurring things in her life that she would've preferred to avoid.)

As she glanced at the clock to see it was ten in the morning, her eyes caught a yellow note on the fridge, adorned with David's almost illegible scrawl.

I'll be home late. Take care of yourself!

Sighing, she crumpled the paper in her palm and tossed it straight into the bin beside the kitchen counter. She opened the refrigerator and was disappointed to find it contained only a few cans of beer and a slice of moldy cheese.

Furious, she slammed the door and marched up the stairs to change and grab some money. She had to go shopping.

She was already shuddering in apprehension.

Going back outside and among strangers… Great.

She tugged on her black jeans and pulled on a thick, hooded black sweater. Before Neal, she'd never worn flashy or bright colors and after his death, she'd relegated almost all of her more colorful clothes to the back of her closet.

She didn't have much money, being unemployed at the moment. David was supporting her now, which she simply hated. She had been looking for vacancies for a long time, but with her limited experience and lack of a college degree, not to mention the impending apocalypse looming over their heads, her chances of finding something were pretty low. And David was against it anyway; she had no idea why, though, and he never told her the reason. So she had to make do with her limited savings, which was becoming increasingly annoying as David had completely forgotten about the household in the last two months.

She put a small amount of money in her back pocket and her keys in the pockets of her sweater, along with her phone. She put her hair in a ponytail, her curls bouncing with each step she took. She fixed her eyelashes with a swipe of mascara.

She tucked her gun into the waistband of her jeans; after all, one could never know what might happen. She concealed it with her sweater, making it invisible to anyone.

Fog was spreading through the gray streets, the sky covered in black clouds, an ideal time for a short walk through the city center. There were hardly any people on the streets. On weekday mornings, everyone was either at school or at work, with only a few retirees strolling the cobblestone sidewalk.

Emma stuck her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and sketched out her tasks for the day in her head, but the list was pretty short. Shopping was her only agenda today, so she began to think feverishly about what to do with the long hours ahead of her.

She arrived at the tiny little corner store without any plans. She could get everything she needed here. She hated supermarkets.

When she was done shopping, she didn't head home, but to the nearby library. Inspiration came to her somewhere between choosing which can of food to buy. She needed some good books and a quiet place among normal people. Among relatively normal people.

It wasn't five minutes before she was wandering among the bookshelves in the pleasantly heated room, browsing the selection.

No one disturbed her, and at that moment, it felt very good. She continued to hunt for books peacefully, and after a while, she returned to the cashier with a small stack. The young woman behind the counter treated her kindly like she did anyone else, and that was a really strange feeling. Strange, but heartwarming. Maybe she should go out more often and fill out some more job applications. Then she could even live a relatively normal life.

She was already halfway home when her phone started ringing. She rolled her eyes in annoyance and dropped her packed bags on one of the nearby benches. She dug out her phone and looked at the caller ID.

David.

"I'm almost home, I just went shop-"

"Where are you exactly?" he gasped into the phone.

"Near the park on the avenue. Why?" she asked suspiciously. "What is it again?"

Before answering, he repeated her location to someone, then she heard the sound of a door slamming shut. "Elves," came the curt reply. "Dark Elves."

"David, stop talking in riddles!" The icy fingers of fear zigzagged through her spine. She had already had the opportunity to meet with one Dark Elf and she had no desire to repeat the encounter.

"Over the past few months, the Vampires and Werewolves have been plotting against us. They have realized that they cannot defeat us with brute force alone. They've been lurking in the shadows for the last few months, looking for a few allies, and they've found the Dark Elves. Some are already in the city and…" he took a deep breath. "The point is, don't move from where you are now, Emma. Killian will pick you up shortly."

Before she could ask anything, David ended the call. She stared furiously at her phone for a while, then pocketed the device just as it started beeping incessantly. She groaned and fished it out of her pocket again. It seemed she would have to replace it soon, the battery was almost dead, despite it being half full mere moments ago.

But that wasn't the only problem with the device. The signal dropped dangerously, then the thing just shut off altogether. Sultry magic swept through the city. Emma looked up in confusion. Around her, several elderly people pointed to the sky and shook their heads in incomprehension.

Emma looked up as well.

There were almost entirely black clouds floating in the sky, shrouding the entire city in shadows.

So the Elves were really here.

She picked up her bags, slipped her right hand under her sweater, and reached for the handle of her gun. She wouldn't be able to do much against Elves with it, but at least it made her feel a little better. Nervously, she scanned the deserted street. She had never longed this hard for Killian's arrival. Correction, she had never longed for him, period… Until now.

When she thought about it more carefully, she'd never talked to him for more than five minutes. Truth to be told, she hadn't even had the chance. Killian just came and went. He showed up in the most unexpected places, at the most stressful times, and disappeared just as quickly.

Barely a minute later, a black Porsche Panamera stopped in front of her, leaving dark skid marks on the asphalt. She jerked back, startled, and managed to land on her ass in a not very graceful way.

The car door swung open and Killian stared at her, impatiently at first, then noticed her sprawled figure on the ground. A strange smile slid across his face, but she couldn't place why it felt so different. "It's more comfortable in here, lass," he said, patting the seat beside him.

Emma staggered to her feet with an annoyed huff. She considered staining the seat cover with her muddy jeans in retaliation, but she didn't want to be childish. She was about to dust off her clothes as best she could with a tissue when something grabbed her waist and yanked her into the car. The door slammed shut on its own, and Killian stepped on the gas.

"Was that you?" she growled when she finally managed to get herself into a more decent position. At that moment, the seatbelt flew through the air in front of her and snapped into place on the edge of her seat.

"And that too," Killian nodded grimly, focusing on the road.

"Don't you dare do that again! Or at least, warn me next time!"

She really wasn't used to someone practicing magic on her. It wasn't exactly painful or uncomfortable; in fact, the touch of Killian's magic was lukewarm and pleasantly eerie, but it still scared the shit out of her.

"Apologies…"

Finally, she raised her eyes to him, and only now realizing why his previous smile seemed so strange. His face looked completely different. There was not a drop of eyeliner on him, and his stubble was completely gone. He looked so young that way, but she had to admit, she liked his bad boy look better.

Either way, he was a pretty good-looking guy.

And she really needed to stop thinking now.

"What the hell happened?"

"To my face?" he smiled compulsively. "I had to shave because they couldn't stitch up the wound," he replied lightly, as if it was just a usual Thursday for him.

"Wound? Stitch up? But shouldn't you be supposed to heal…?"

Before she could finish her question, Killian turned his face fully toward her. There was a fresh, red scar starting at his temple and extending to the line of his lips.

"Jesus…" she gasped.

The sight of his handsome face disfigured by the scar shocked her greatly.

"Wounds inflicted by Elves don't heal on their own or fast like any other," he shrugged and looked at the road again, but she could see the bitterness in his eyes that she just couldn't place.

She sank as low as she could into the seat, peering at him timidly, then glanced out the window. The city was dark as if it was already night, and she knew for a fact that this was the work of Elves. This way, the vampires could walk around the city without fearing the sunlight.

It was comfortably warm in the car, yet she huddled as a shiver ran through her. She watched the city pass by silently and then she realized…

"Killian, we left the—" she began in alarm, but he seemed perfectly calm.

"We're not going to your house," he replied nonchalantly, not taking his eyes off the road, for which she was very grateful because they were going much faster than allowed.

"Then where?" her eyes widened in shock.

"To the Guild. It's safer there."

"And David? What about him? Where is he now?"

"Calm down, Swan, he'll be there too," he assured her, then gave her an uneasy sideways glance. "It's going to be alright."

Calm down.

It was easy to say but much harder to do. Especially for her, who could get upset over any little thing, no matter how ridiculous.

Despite the low roar of the engine, she could hear the wind outside blowing louder and louder, tearing cruelly at the scrawny branches of the weak trees on the side of the road. Lightning zigzagged through the sky, and the car shook in another gust of wind.

She shuddered in her seat and made herself as small as she could. Only now did she realize what the presence of the Elves meant, and she was scared to death, if she was honest. There had been no example of them interfering in battles on this earth for hundreds of years.

"It's not far now, love, we'll be there soon," Killian encouraged, and she looked up at him again, expressionless, feeling unspeakably miserable.

His face was practically split in two, and he was the one comforting her? She scoffed at herself.

"Okay." She couldn't say anything else, just slumped in her seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest. A shiver ran down her spine, causing goosebumps on her skin, and she felt like her head was being held in a vice. She knew what that meant. She had just enough time to cling to the edge of the seat, and the vision came unstoppable…

#cs ff #captain swan #cssns21 #cssns 2021 #cs fic #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #ouat #once upon a time #ouat ff #killian x emma #captain swan supernatural #my fic #thejollyroger writer #TWPYR #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fanfic

25 notes · View notes

castielific · 3 years

Text

Title: Fancy and the tramp

Story status: Complete, 8 chapters

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dean/Castiel, Alternate Universe, Fake boyfriends, pretend relationship, homeless!Dean, rich!Cas, family, angst with a happy ending, temporary breakup, getting back together, coming out, past!homophobia, self esteem issues, Dean Winchester has a sexuality crisis, first time, homelessness, bed sharing, pining

Sex tags: anal sex, switching, bottom!Cas, bottom!Dean, first time, frottage, marking, blowjob, fingering, barebacking

Special warning: Contrary to what the title may presage, there are no spaghettis in this story.

Summary:

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new fake boyfriend. What a weird day.

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 under the cut:

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

"Come on Ricky, you owe me that money!" Dean says on his phone, taking a step forward when the line of the coffee shop shortens.

"I don't owe you shit, Dean. You still owe me the last three months of your rent," his ex landlord says on the phone.

"And I'll pay you, you know I will. But to get the money, I need a job, and to get that job I need some new clothes and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know the deal. You think no one has told me that one before? No bueno, man, I'm keeping your deposit," Ricky grumbles.

Dean groans in frustration. "Come on, all I need is fifty dollars so I can buy a pair of pants without any holes in it. You give me fifty, I get the job and I pay you back, how does that sound?" he tries to negotiate.

"Like a fucking lie," Ricky spits just before hanging up.

"No Ric-fuck!"

The woman in front of him in line sends him a dark look. Dean rolls his eyes at her. Like she hasn't heard worse before.

Ricky was his last shot. It was a long one, he really does owe that bastard some serious money. Guess he can kiss the job interview at two goodbye. It's some kind of assistant job. It sounds easy enough, buying coffee and picking dry cleaning and stuff. It was still a long shot anyway. Dean's only real job experience is being a bagger boy when he was seventeen and it lasted about two months before his dad decided to move them further east.

So far, he'd always managed to get by doing repairs or cleaning at gas stops and motels. The older he gets and the harder it gets to find that kind of random job. People are more willing to give a few bucks in exchange for manual tasks to a kid than they are to a nearly thirty years old guy. Now they just tell him to fuck off.

And since it's always been casual and off the book, the only official work experience he has is the bagger thing. He doesn't even have a high school diploma because he dropped out long before that. Not exactly a stellar resume. Which explains why he hasn't found work in eight month and is currently living in his car. Thank God he has Baby.

He had been too ambitious thinking he could get his own place. It could only pay rent for about five months before he went broke. He's never had a home before, and had no idea that having an apartment cost so much. In motels, you don't exactly have to pay for water or heat or utilities. There was a bunch of stuff he hadn't planned for that ate up the last of his meagre savings. Ricky threw him out after three months when Dean couldn't scrape up enough money to pay rent anymore, putting a violent stop to Dean's pipe dream of living a normal life. He hoped it would be simpler to get a job if he had an actual address, had even thought about scrapping up enough to maybe get his GED. He's not sure what he's going to do now.

He's always wanted to be a mechanic. If his dad ever taught him anything, it was how to take care of the Impala. John taught him all the basics and Dean got the knack of it. As a teen, he spent days reading car magazines and working on the Impala, trying to learn as much as he could about how cars worked and how to repair the different parts. He knows enough by now that he could easily work in a garage, but he's got no diploma, and hasn't found anyone willing to hire him on faith alone.

The line of the coffee shop shortens again, the barista asking her order to the goody-two-shoes in front of him. Dean looks regretfully at the display of sandwiches. He searches his pockets and only comes up with three dollars. Of course, the cheapest piece of food cost four dollars. Dean sighs. Guess just a coffee will have to do today.

He won't have another choice but to go to the soup kitchen tonight. He hates it there. The food is crap and he wants to punch the prancy people serving it. They always try to give him some Jesus bullshit with his food, like Jesus is ever gonna put a roof over his head and find him a decent job. Neither Jesus nor God nor whatever gives a crap about him. Not that he blames them. Hell, if they exist they're probably not big fans of the guy that used to slip into church as a kid to pick the lock of the donation box

"Just an americano, please," Dean says regretfully when the barista asks for his order. At least it will keep him warm and fill his stomach for a short while.

Halloween just went by and the weather is becoming really cold. He should use the last of Baby's tank to go as far south as he can before winter really hits. He probably won't get farther than Wichita though, and the thought makes him shiver. No one wants to get stuck for a winter in Wichita. Maybe he could go and see if he can make a few bucks at the nearest motel, that kind of place always needs a handyman's help. He hasn't tried the one on Corn Street yet. He's noticed only two lights are still working on their sign, he could offer to help with that. If he makes fifty bucks, he might be able to reach Austin.

Dean stops on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, pondering if he should walk to the bar a few streets down or the motel. Sometimes Benny, the owner of the bar, lets him use the sink in the back to wash up. If he's lucky, he'll even get some leftovers from last night. It's generally just some stale pretzels, cold fries on good days, but it's still better than nothing. He's got two cans of beans and a car with an near empty tank to his name right now, so he's not picky.

Dean takes a look at his watch. It's eleven thirty already, the leftovers are probably already in the trash at Benny's. The motel is probably his best bet.

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you pretend to be my boyfriend." comes a hoarse voice, way too close to his ear.

Dean jumps, nearly spilling his coffee on himself. He spins to the right to face the man who just talked and is met with a pair of clear blue eyes. Way too close again. He waits a second for the man to take a step back as he realises as close Dean turning brought them, but the guy just continues to stare at him, head slightly tilted to the side. He's wearing an oversized trench coat over a dark blue suit that looks expensive. He's so close a gust of wind makes the bottom of his coat brushes Dean's shin.

"Dude, personal space," Dean reproaches, taking a step back. "And fuck off, I don't swing that way," he adds, not meanly. It's not the first time he's getting hit on by a dude. Sadly, not even the weirdest. He's strictly into chicks though, so no dice.

"Two hundred bucks," the man insists. He looks ready to fall on his knees and beg, eyes going wider and wider as he throws a panicked look to the right of Dean's shoulder. "It won't take more than ten minutes and all you have to do is nod along," he begs, making Dean wonders if he's in danger somehow. Maybe he has a stalker or an abusive ex?

Dean follows his eyes to a woman coming closer. She's very elegant in a grey pantsuit and a long white fur coat as she walks straight toward them. He can feel her eyes judging him even from thirty feet away, looking at him from head to toes. If he wasn't already self-aware of the number of holes in his jeans, he would definitely be under that gaze.

"Five hundred dollars," the other man whispers just as the blond woman reaches them.

"Castiel, dear, you should have told me we would have company, I would have notified the restaurant," the woman says, sending a clearly disapproving look toward Dean as she deposits a kiss on the other man's - (Castiel, apparently, what kind of name is that??) - cheek.

"Mother, let me introduce you to my boyfriend," Castiel says, looking ill at ease. He's obviously not a very good liar.

Dean blinks a few times as their attention turns toward him. Castiel seems to be trying to communicate something with his eyes, and Dean frowns in incomprehension for a moment before he gets the hint.

"Huh. Dean. Winchester," he finally says. "Ma'am," he adds when she just continues to stare at him like he has grease smeared all over his face. He's pretty sure that she wouldn't want to touch his hand if he were to offer it to shake, so he doesn't.

"Naomi Novak," she introduces herself. "What a delight to finally meet Castiel's new companion," Naomi says, her deadpan tone contradicting her words. "Of course, I would have preferred not to be ambushed by such an announcement. Castiel, you know, that Le Délice hates it when we change our reservation last minute. Who knows if they will even have a table for three," she declares, already composing a number on her phone.

"It's okay, mother, Dean won't be joining us for lunch."

"Oh, is it because your attire isn't appropriate?" Castiel's mother asks, looking at the holes in Dean's jeans and the big leather jacket that used to be his dad's. "I assure you they won't say a word about it if you're with us," she reassures.

Dean squirms a little, wondering what the hell is even happening. Ten minutes ago he was buying a coffee and going at his day like a perfectly normal person (well, albeit a homeless and jobless one). Now, his fashion sense is being criticized by the mother of a man who is pretending to be his boyfriend. Did a piano fall on his head or something? Has he finally lost his mind?

He looks to the man beside him. He's scratching the side of his neck in nervousness. The move makes his coat fall a little over his wrist, revealing a freaking Rolex watch. Dean looks back to the woman, eyes sliding on her diamond earrings and the huge rock around her neck.

You know what? That's not okay. His stomach has been crying for food since last morning, and he's what? Supposed to help this stranger by saying no to free lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in town? Fuck no. He's gonna eat like a king and make a few hundred bucks off the back of those rich assholes.

"In that case, it would be my pleasure to join you," Dean announces with his most charming smile.

"What?" Castiel can't help but bark. "But y-your work thing?" he tries, sweating. The round panic eyes are back. Dean sends him his best shit eating grin. They both know he now either has to invite this stranger to lunch or reveal the lie to his mother. The guy is trapped and may as well continue to play along.

"It's not as important as a chance to finally get to know your mother, honey," Dean answers. "He's told me so many nice things about you, Naomi. Can I call you Naomi?"

"Of course, dear," Naomi says. She looks a little wide eyed too, probably thrown by Dean turning on the charm to the max.

"Perfect! We shall go now, we don't want to miss your reservation. I do hope it won't be too much of a bother for them to add a chair to your table," Dean says. He should probably tone it down with the pompous tone, because he nearly added an English accent here.

Naomi leads the way, and Dean is going to follow when a hand grabbing his arm makes him fall a few steps behind.

"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel hisses.

"Acting as your boyfriend?" Dean says innocently. By Castiel's glare, he's not fooled.

"I asked you to nod silently for ten minutes, not to do method acting for a whole meal," he reproaches. Naomi sends a look behind her shoulder and Castiel smiles at her like there is no worries, indicating for her to lead the way,

Dean shrugs. "I had some free time."

"I'm not giving you more money than planned, if that's your goal," Castiel says with a suspicious squint.

"I'm fine with the five hundred as long as you're also paying for lunch," Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows as they walk toward the restaurant. Something passes on Castiel's face that Dean can't quite identify. The other man stares at him for so long that it's a wonder he doesn't trip. He finally relents with a long suffering sigh as they enter 'Le Délice'.

Apparently, Naomi Novak is prominent enough that they don't mind changing her reservation after all. They're seated at a table near a legit indoor fountain. Dean is looking around, trying not to let show how impressed he is by the place. The walls are made of stone and covered in frescos that he always thought you couldn't see outside of a church or castle. A waiter gives him a leather covered menu and Dean opens it eagerly. After a few niceties to Naomi, they're asked what they want to drink. Dean has an inkling that he probably shouldn't ask for a beer in an establishment like this.

"Same for me, please," he says after Castiel ordered some wine with a name Dean can't pronounce. At least, he hopes that's wine. Who knows. Hell, in this place the bottles of water are probably more expensive than his usual brand of beer.

Dean starts to second guess his decision when he realizes that the menu is in french. What is it with rich people and France? He just wants a damn steak, how do you say that in french? Is there even steaks here or is it just frog legs and snails? Oh god, he hopes not.

"I think I'll take the duck today," Naomi notes. "Nobody cooks it better than chef Francis. How about you Dean? Have you ever come here before?" There is a mean glint in her eyes that says she knows perfectly well he hasn't. Hell, from the side eyes he got from everyone as they crossed the room, everyone here knows he's not from their world. There are three holes in his jeans, threads hanging from the bottom and his dad's leather jacket probably should have ended up in the trash about three years ago. Even now, it's still too big for him and the sleeves are so scruffed that they're nearly paper thin. The original dark brown color has turned to a light beige in most places from wear. His scruff is just the bad side of too long now, and he hasn't had a haircut since April, strands starting to fall into his eyes. At least, he's wearing his best plaid shirt and managed to wash up last night, so he's not smelling too rank. Why would Castiel pick him out of all the people in the street at that moment to play his boyfriend? It makes no sense at all. From the guy's obvious discomfort as he hides behind his menu, he probably realizes it.

"Actually, Naomi, duck sounds like a delicious idea," Dean says, voluntarily ignoring her question. To be honest, he’s never even eaten duck before, but it's poultry so it probably taste like chicken. You can't go wrong with chicken, right? His stomach certainly likes the idea, gurgling so loudly that he has to hide it behind a cough.

Castiel ends up ordering some fish and soon their drinks arrive. Dean barely has time to sip at his red wine before Naomi pounces.

"So, tell me everything, how did you two meet?"

Dean nearly chokes on his drink. Castiel seems to gulp down his whole glass.

"We met at a coffee shop. Dean was in line in front of me and we started to talk," Castiel explains, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"How quaint!" Naomi exclaims, clasping her hands in delight. "I'm just sorry that you didn't tell me about it sooner, Castiel. How long have you been keeping this charming man a secret?"

"Not-," Castiel clears his throat, "-not long."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Dean. I sure wish this luncheon will give me the chance to learn everything about you."

Luncheon? Who even talks like that outside of Downton Abbey?

"I do hope I'll get to keep some mystery, we wouldn't want this guy to lose interest," Dean says with a wink. He pats Castiel's hand on the table. Should he hold it or something? How open on PDA are gay people those days? Not that he knows more about how heterosexual couple act in public anyway, especially in those crowds. It's probably safer to keep the PDA to a minimum here.

"You have to at least tell me some things. For one, what career path are you on?" She looks like a shark circling her prey.

"I'm a mechanic," he lies. He'd rather stay as close to the truth as possible. It's a little unfair that Castiel is letting him do all the talking when his initial demand was that he stayed silent, especially since it's his skin that Dean is apparently saving, but the guy looks like he's swallowed a potato whole.

"Oh, that's...interesting," Naomi says in that insincere tone of hers. She looks like he told her he was fucking children’s corpses every full moon. He's two seconds away from telling her that he's actually jobless, penniless, and homeless, just to see her face, when Castiel intervenes.

"How is Anna's engagement party coming on?"

Thankfully, this seems to be a subject Naomi loves because she tells them about every aspect of the future party all the way through their meal.

Duck, as it turns out, is actually very good. It's more like red meat than chicken, which is a great surprise. Although, Dean isn't a fan of the way rich people put tiny quantities of food in very large plates. He eats all the dinner rolls and scrapes every single bit of sauce out of his plate, yet he's still hungry by the end of it. He nearly starts crying when the waiter asks them if they'll take dessert and Naomi declines. He's starting to wonder if that little piece of duck was worth sitting through lunch with her.

"That sounds like you're turning this into a wonderful event, mother, Anna must be delighted," Castiel compliments.

"Oh, you know your sister," Naomi waves it off. "It sure feels like a nice opportunity to introduce your new beau to everyone."

Dean frowns. What's a beau? Is that him? That's not him, right?

"I wouldn't dare take any attention away from Anna," Castiel tries to refuse.

"Don't be daft, you know your sister won't care. Everyone will be so happy that you've finally found-" she passes a long look, over Dean, like she's doubting anyone would actually approve of him. She certainly doesn't seem to, "-someone," she finishes lamely.

"Oh shoot, I don't think I'm available that night," Dean tries to play off.

"I'm not sure I've told you the date of it yet."

"Cas did," he says. The other man perks up at the surname, but whatever, 'Castiel' is a mouthful. "And I have this huh work thing, you know? Bummer," Dean says with a fake pout.

"What kind of 'work thing' can a mechanic possibly have on a Saturday evening?"

Dean tenses up, pursing his lips. "One he can't get out of?"

"Nonsense, you're coming," Naomi brushes off. And that is that apparently. Shit. There is a vein about to pop on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel, dear, you look a little white. Was the fish okay?"

"I-Yeah-I-Actually, do you think we could possibly cut our lunch short? I am indeed feeling quite unwell."

"Of course, my dear," Naomi says, leaning forward until her hand touches his forehead. "You're as clammy as a fish. I should come home with you, and make sure you're okay," she announces, taking her napkin off her lap and deposing it on the table, ready to stand up.

"No!" Castiel stops her, a little too brusquely. "I-Dean will take good care of me, don't worry," he says, getting up and grabbing Dean's arm so he does so too. Dean follows his lead, all too happy to get out of here. "Stay and enjoy your tea, mother."

"If you say so," Naomi says, sending an unsure look at Dean, obviously upset at being brushed off in his favor. "Call me this evening, or I'll worry all night."

"Of course, mother," Castiel acquiesces, kissing her cheek. Dean hovers behind him. Is he supposed to kiss her too? Wave hello? Shake her hand?

"Dean," she says as what is apparently a sufficient goodbye. Thank God. "I'll be sure to see you on Saturday," she reminds just as they're walking away.

Cas turns on him as soon as they're outside the restaurant.

"What was that?!" he asks, not quite yelling. He starts pacing, rubbing a hand through his already pretty ruffled hair.

"You owing me five hundred bucks? Dude, you're lucky I don't charge you more for the fresh hell I just lived through."

"You went through hell? You?!" his pacing gets faster and Dean has an idea that if he stops pacing he might punch him in the face.

"That's what you get for asking this kind of stuff from a perfect stranger," Dean shrugs, pushing a pebble with the point of his shoe. His red sock is peeking out from a tiny hole near his big toe. It's such a contrast to how grand everything and everyone looked in there. It's making him feel like shit. He's maybe feeling a tiny bit guilty for trapping Castiel like that too. He doesn't seem like a bad guy, albeit one with a psycho mom.

Cas turns on him, eyes glaring and mouth open in what will probably be a flow of reproaches. He stops himself before he says anything though, seeming to deflate. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe instead, shoulders falling. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should be thanking you. I have no right to make you any reproach when I brought this on myself."

"It wasn't so bad, though, was it? I mean, I think I sold it?" Dean asks, a little hesitant. He even used pedantic talk and everything.

"You did as well as could be expected."

"That's not much of a compliment…".

"I shouldn't take more of your time," Cas apologizes, taking his wallet out. Dean goggles at the amount of cash in there.

"You really shouldn't have that much cash on you, that's, like, asking for trouble."

Castiel squints at him like he's wondering if that means Dean is gonna rob him for a moment, before he hands him a wad of cash.

Dean's eyes bulge out, "That's way more than five hundred dollars."

"There's also an advance in there to buy some clothes for the engagement party."

"The what now?" Dean blinks dumbly for a second until his brain catches up to what is happening. "Dude, no, I'm done!"

"You were the one to push it so far in the first place," Castiel reminds. Accuses, really.

"I just wanted to eat fancy food, okay! Not, like, go steady."

"There will be lots of food at my sister's engagement party," Castiel tries to persuade. Badly.

Dean gives him a nonplussed look. The cash feels heavy in his hand. He's never had so much before. This could help him get a new start. What's a night of playing Downton Abbey compared to the many many nights he might not have to freeze his ass off in the backseat of his car thanks to it?

"Why are you even doing this anyway? And why would you choose me? Do I look that desperate for cash?"

"No," Cas says after what's definitely a too long pause. Dean scowls. "You were in front of me in the coffee shop line. I heard you talking on the phone. You said you needed some cash to buy a new outfit for a job interview. Begged, really."

"Where the fuck do you get on listening in on other people’s conversation?"

"I didn't listen, I just heard."

"You know, what? Fuck you," Dean spits, "I don't need that bullshit in my life right now." He has enough cash to get to Austin and replenish his stock of food, even buy some new clothes. At least this way he can keep his dignity rather than being insulted by a bunch of rich assh-

"Please," Castiel begs, following him as Dean storms away. "You don't understand…"

"Oh I understand perfectly," Dean says, stopping and turning around so brusquely that they nearly bump into each other. "You think you can shit on other people from your high horse and that they'll still do your deed for a few hundred bucks. Well, I'm not your freaking puppet, man."

"I have never shitted on any-" he stops himself with a frustrated groan, before turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Dean, please. Listen to what I have to say at least?"

"I know what you're gonna say. I've seen that movie before, Cas. You're going to bring me to that party, so you can parade me around like I'm some earned price or some shit. Meanwhile you get to appease mommy dearest and the clan of hyenas putting pressure on you to find a husband, while still having the satisfaction of giving them a huge fuck you by bringing a guy like me instead of the golden boy they're dreaming of."

"I-" Castiel stops himself, pursing his lips. "That's actually not that far from the reality."

"Of course it isn't. Told you, I've seen that trope before. Except this is real life and your plan sucks, so you can keep your money and I'll keep my dignity. Just grow a pair and tell them all to fuck off, will ya?"

"You sure do like saying that to people," Castiel sulks. "Are you sure you can't do it for me?"

"Oh believe me I would love to tell your mom to fuck off, but I like my balls attached to my body, so that's a hard pass."

Castiel laughs slightly at that and Dean can feel his own anger start to abate at the sound. "Good self-preservation instinct on your part," Cas mumbles. The puppy look is still there, except now it's making him feel like he's kicked the puppy.

"You know, we're in the 21st century, right? You shouldn't feel pressured to the point of inventing a boyfriend. Who gives a shit about that nowadays?"

"My family does," Castiel answers in a long sigh. "You don't get it, how could you... I have three brothers, Dean," Castiel explains. "Two sisters. My little sister, who is just nineteen, just got engaged. I was already seen as the irremediably unwed one and now I…," he pauses, sending a nervous look at Dean, looking ashamed.

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? You're rich, objectively good looking. Do you have weird kinks or something?"

"I-I wouldn't know. I've never even been in a relationship before," he confesses, looking at the ground.

"When you say 'relationship', you don't mean you've never…" Dean inquires. Cas' cheeks redden, and Dean blows like he just got punched. "Wow. That sucks."

"Yes, it's very pathetic."

"What? Eh no, it's not pathetic. Surprising, yeah. But, to each their own, you know?"

Cas inclines his head like he's not sure he does know.

"I'm sorry I tried to drag you in all of this. You seem like a good man. You don't deserve-"

"-to be served on a platter to your family?" Dean asks, searching Castiel's gaze until they exchange a smile.

"Yes. That." The man is still looking dejected. The money is still in Dean's hand. That duck really was good. Damn it.

"The food better be freaking awesome," Dean relents with a frustrated grunt. Castiel seems instantly relieved. "And you're not pretty woman-ing me," he warns, pointing a finger at the other man. "I'm choosing my own clothes and I don't give a shit if I don't know which fork to use for fish."

Castiel's head is tilted and he's blinking owlishly, like he doesn't understand a word that Dean is saying. Figures. He's not sure how he could convince anyone that he's this dork's boyfriend, honestly. Naomi certainly looked like she wasn't fooled.

"I'm sorry for the way my mother behaved toward you. I assure you, being yourself will be amply sufficient to the task."

"Dude, the way y'all talk, where do you come from, Victorian England?"

"I-I don't think I have English ancestry, no. Why?"

They blink at each other for some time.

"I must be a freaking masochist."

Cas' face scrunches up even more in incomprehension.

"Okay, let's be clear on one thing from the start. This is not a lifetime movie and I'm straight, so: no falling in love, get it?"

"I get it, Dean," Castiel nods.

Well, that's it then, apparently Dean is going to a fancy engagement party with his new boyfriend. What a weird day...

You can read the rest on AO3

#destiel #destiel fic #deancas #dean/castiel #dean/cas #spn fic #ao3 fic #destiel fanfiction #AU #pretend/fake relationship #homeless!dean #rich!cas #myfic #my fic #castielific #castielificfic

65 notes · View notes

awilddreamermain · 3 years

Note

Hi, Chels! Congratulations!! I'm so happy for you! You deserve every follower and more! That is a threat, I'm holding everyone hostage 🔪

I would love to get a MHA matchup, I wanna see who you'd match me with! Got me so curious! SFW & NSFW if you'd be willing!

My name is Chloe but I prefer May, nicknames include May-May, Maybell or Chlo.

I'm 25, pronouns are she/he, Cancer Moon, Aries Sun and Virgo Rising. Quite the weird mash of zodiacs, huh?

My favorite colors are pink (that soft pastel kinda baby pink), red (especially blood/garnet red) and...can I add pink again? Any shade of pink this time. Bubblegum or hot pink.

Favorite AU's include A/B/O, Mafia, Historical, Fantasy and does Mythical Creatures count?

Oh...oh boy, I gotta look deep for some fun facts that aren't just...facts but I'll do my best!

1) My sneezes are so short and high pitched I go "chu".

2) I have vitiligo, makes me look like a dog because it's mostly around my mouth and my right eye so I have a spot!

3) I have atrocious balance, my knees and shins are always banged up because I cannot for the life of me walk correctly.

4) I have a stutter, on top of speaking so quickly it turns into a jumbled mess. So good luck understanding what I said because I have no idea either.

5) I have a growing unicorn plush collection. My favorite is Cupcake, one that's actually taller than I am. Big chunk.

My likes are pretty simple. Cute & soft sweaters, blankets, warm coffee and strawberry milk, pastries and the cold! Winter is my favorite season. History, particularly the Medieval and Victorian times.

My interests revolve around creativity and you could say they're my hobbies as well. Drawing in particular, I used to do digital but I'm stuck with traditional pencil and paper at the moment. I'm dipping my toes into painting and its very fun! Obviously writing and reading and if I'm not doing of those listed then I'm definitely playing video games.

Personality I might say I'm quite split down the middle. At first, to a complete stranger I might come across as cold, stoic, with a resting bitch face, that just wants to get whatever I'm outside for done so I can leave. I'd create a witty or sarcastic comeback if I was given sass by a Karen but with my speech issues? I'd be lucky to get one coherent word out at her...and spend the rest of the day fantasizing what could've happened. So I'm rather quiet, agoraphobia hits hard in large or crowded places so I'm an anxiety riddled mess on the verge of a panic attack. In private or with people that I'm comfortable with? Complete opposite. Happy, bubbly, cracking puns and jokes so get those groan worthy reactions. I try to be the "mom friend" and get over my issues if someone is having it worse, I'll march up to a counter and ask for ketchup if someone wanted it but was too scared to do it themselves. The shoulder to lean and cry on, I'm highly empathetic and understanding, compassionate at times. But I have to actively try and keep myself positive and say good things about myself because I do fall into the pit of self-loathing and hate.

For appearance I'd say I'm average height, pale with white splotches that are inching larger due to my vitiligo, chubby, ashy blonde, blue eyes, button nose. I'd say I'm decently cute? I don't know if I can rate myself.

Okay I know I said I'd be looking into Zodiac compatibility for this but— I literally just screamed internally "KIRISHIMA" when I was reading this. You two would be perfect omg. This Libra king would do anything for you. For this you're an artist and the daughter of a mafia boss :) I like to think of ship names sometimes so like, yours would either be like Eijmay or Mayjirou or Kiriloe— that last one and first are awful I know so lets go with the second? I can't write a proper stutter for the life of me so I tried to keep your dialogue to the minimum.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ Pairing: Eijirou Kirishima

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AU: Mafia

⠀Theme Song: You're The One That I Want - Alex & Sierra

How you meet (his point of view):

⠀⠀The gallery was full of black and white suits, tight, floor length dresses with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses meeting his ears. It was a joyous evening, celebrating the wonderful art work created by the boss's daughter. He had never met her before but he had heard whispers, all good as no one would dare slander the name of their leader's precious little girl. You were the boss's pride and joy, thus he kept you as far away from the darker side of the family business as possible.

⠀⠀Kirishima was still a new hire, a bodyguard of sorts and would consider this his first gig. He had an idea of who he was looking for as he walked further into the mass of people admiring your work but didn't expect what he would eventually come across. You were as far away from the crowd as you possibly could be, guzzling glasses of wine and over all appearing to be a deer in headlights. He couldn't fugure out for the life of him why you seemed so frightened until he watched people approach you to talk, noticing the stutter in your voice when you replied to questions and greetings,your body language telling people to stear clear of you.

⠀⠀So, he did what he was hired to do. "Kindly step away from the lady." He said with a smile, approaching with his large arms crossing over his broad chest as he towered over the guests. They looked at him as if he were a giant shark looking to devour them before scurrying away, leaving the two of you alone. He stood quietly, listening to the voices on the other side of his ear piece as his ruby eyes scanned the area around you. He made sure to not stand so close and avoided in letting his gaze wander.

⠀⠀He couldn't help but admire your skin in quick glances, finding the spot over your eye to be quite adorable. Your silky, ask blonde hair was all dolled up for the event, light make up on your face but not enough to cover the vitiligo. You were stunning and his heart hammered against his chest. So the rumors were true.

⠀⠀You thanked him, voice quiet and careful as you set down your wine glass and clasped your hands together. Out of the corner of his eye he watched you twiddle your thumbs. You didn't want to be here, did you? This obviously wasn't your idea, how could it be? A girl like you, timid as a mouse, didn't want to be surrounded by strangers. "Miss..." He began, thinking carefully because the last thing he wanted to do was piss off the boss and likely get himself killed. But this was his job wasn't it? Making sure you were happy and safe? "Would you like to leave here for a bit? We'll come back of course, but you look like you need some air."

Extra.

He ended up taking you to a drive thru restaurant and got you whatever you wanted, letting you talk about whatever you wanted or sat quietly if you chose not to talk at all If it was quiet in the suv then that was fine too, he just wanted to help you in any way he could. Eventually the silence becomes small talk and then leads to a rather deep conversation about whatever the hell was going on inside that beautiful brain of yours. Kirishima wasn't the smartest man but he wasn't stupid, he wasn't as clueless as most thought he was. You told him how your father made you do this as an attempt to get you out there, to socialize and possibly find a suitor. This was the mafia after all.

The Confession:

⠀⠀It was a tradition now, every Sunday you and Eijirou would go to your favorite café to have coffee and enjoy the early day weather before it got too hot. You sit at the same table, in the same chairs with him facing the door. You get the same drinks and food and just overall enjoy each others company. After that night at the gallery you two became fast friends, which your father obviously had to approve of but thankfully he did. Kirishima was a good man, he's trustworthy and puts you before himself.

⠀⠀The day he approached your father and asked to speak in private was the day he knew he was likely to get thrown in the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean. He has confessed his feelings for you to your old man, who listened intently with a blank face behind his desk. "Sir, I'm in love with your daughter, and with your blessing I'd like to... court her." He was utterly terrified when your father cleared his throat and sighed, shifting where he sat so he could stand and move around the desk. He reached out for a handshake which Kirishima looked up at him with a questioning look.

⠀⠀Your father gave his blessing and now... He just had to tell you, his best friend, that he loved you. God he loved you so much— "Kiri," you interrupted his thoughts, bringing him crashing back to reality," a-are you alright? You seem nervous." He swallowed hard in response but cleared his throat, taking a sip of his cappuccino.

⠀⠀"Oh yeah— definitely." He breathed with a laugh, moving a hand to the back of his neck to scratch. How was he going to say it? "So, uh—" he licked his lips, adjusting himself in his seat multiple times until he groaned and leaned forward. "Fuck, I'm just gonna say it— Maybell, I love you. I have for a long time now and I talked to your father and he said—"

⠀⠀"Said what, Eijirou?" Your eyes widened at his confession and he felt like a complete idiot. Should he had said something to you first? Was this a mistake? What if you didn't feel the same way? God his mind was going to explode—

⠀⠀"That I could... court you. With your permission." You were quick to nod and smile to his surprise, which prompted a grin if his own.

Extra.

Kirishima HAS to be facing the door in any public place you go to. I don't make the rules.

He never let's you walk close to the road, he has to be between you and it at all times when you're walking.

He oders your food and drinks for you when you can't but is there for moral support when you do. He wants you comfortable and happy. He wouldn't ever dare get in your way though, you're a lot stronger and braver than most may think you are.

The Relationship:

⠀⠀On days like this, Kirishima can't help but admire you. He catches himself staring wuite often but he just can't help it. What did he do to deserve such a beautiful partner? He looks at you and all he can think about is how much he loves you and wants to see you smile. He watched you from the kitchen island, leaning against it as you waltz around the kitchen in your pinky fuzzy slippers and one of his shirts that's much, much too big on you. He remembers your surprise when you found his clothing was actually too big on you and how happy you were.

⠀⠀"Maybell?" He hums, adjusting his stance and crossing his arms on the counter. He listened for you to him back in response, a smile on his lips. "You look so cute in my clothes.

⠀⠀You giggled, shaking your head and continued putting the dishes away until Eijirou appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and his forehead coming down on your shoulder. "Need somethin' baby?" You turned your head just slightly, a brow cocked inquisitively. He squeezed you in response, swiftly lifting you and making you squeal. Thankfully you didn't have anything in your hands at the moment. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face, setting you down only to lift you again bridal style.

⠀⠀"I've got all I need right here in my arms." He chuckled and you playfully smacked his chest, letting him carry you to your shared bedroom.

Extra.

TICKLE FIGHTS.

He thinks your sneezes are the cutest thing in the world.

He loves your god awful puns, they crack him up every time.

Adores the fact you're a nurturer, especially with your friends. He thinks you'd make a great mother but if that's something you don't want he respects that.

You take care of everyone, but who takes care of you? Eijirou is always there to be your shoulder to lean and cry on, he's your sound board and is always happy to let you talk about your feelings with him. You're allowed to not be happy and bubbly all the time, he realizes how staying positive all the time can actually do more damage than goof, especially if you bottle everything up.

If on a particular day you're struggling with your speech he's happy to be your voice as well. He understands you better than anyone, even your own father.

Speaking of your father, he can't wait to make Eijirou his son-in-law! He's a good man with a good heart and treats you right, what's not to like?

He has trouble saying no to you and spoils you quite a bit.

The Fights:

...

Extra.

There's nothing, what you say goes and all he can say is "yes dear". He knows better than to argue with you, however when he's right and he knows he is, he finds a way to prove it without making you mad.

The Sex:

⠀⠀"Fuck baby—" he hissed, hands finding your hips and guiding you as you rub yourself on his cock. Your hands are on his thighs and your head is tossed back, giving him the perfect view of your tits. God he loves them, he loves the plush skin of your stomach and your thighs, your ass too, he loved seeing all of you. He was so happy that you allow him this privilege of seeing you, granted you've been dating a while now but still. Your sounds are music to his ears and all he wants is to make more, make you feel so good you're calling his name and making a mess.

He wanted— no, needed, to feel you, to feel inside your warm and wet cunt, to feel it squeeze him and milk him dry. He was quick to flip the two of you over, careful to not hurt you as he did. You gasped and giggled, reaching up to hold his face as he smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. He loved your taste, he could go on and on about all the things he loved about you all day if he could. "You want it baby?" You nodded excitedly, lip caught between your teeth. He smirked and reached between the two of you, thick fingers tracing a line between your lips and slipping inside your soaked pussy.

"D-Daddy—" you whine, a slight pout on your lips as your face morphs into one of pleasure. He chuckled, pumping his fingers in and out a few times before removing them and grabbing his cock. He coated it more in your slick, guiding it between tge lips of your cunt before slowly pushing inside, groaning at how tight you are. You squeal of course, gasping for breath because Kirishima is an impressive size, you still struggled to take him sometimes but like a good girl you always managed.

"That's my good girl." He cooed, moving so his forearms were on either side of your head. He gave a couple test thrusts, waiting for you to adjust u til you nodded for him to continue.

Extra.

Terrified of activating his quirk while he's fucking you, but he keeps himself under control.

He loves his hair pulled and he loves to be bitten, he especially likes it when you scratch his back when he hits that good spot.

Eats you out for his pleasure mostly, but for yours as well. He loves when you grind on his face and moan his name when you do it. Speaking of, please sit on his face, he loves that shit. He knows how to be careful of his teeth!

If you have pets they CANNOT be in the same roon when you're doing the do, it's just weird.

He'd happily bend you over in the kitchen and do you right there. Hell, he'll fuck you anywhere you deem suitable.

He likes to do a mixture if praise and degradation with you, and edging and overstimulation is a big go-to. He just loves seeing you squirm under him, hr loves hearing you beg and say you need him.

#dreamer's 800 follower event

8 notes · View notes

voidstilesplease · 3 years

Text

Attractions

Demigod AU Ficlet [3]

Stiles

"Stiles?"

Stiles turns around to the source of the call. He finds himself facing the new Ares camper. The boy gives him a tentative but wide, slanted smile, stepping closer. Stiles is not going to lie; the excessive gushing he hears from the Aphrodite cabin about the guy are well-founded. But he's not going to say that out loud. He replies, "Hey,"

"Chiron said to look for you," the boy tells him, looking far brighter and good-natured than what Stiles anticipates from an Ares kid speaking to a child of Athena.

"Give me a sec, will you?" At the boy's nod, Stiles rushes inside the cabin to retrieve the materials he prepared for their brief session today. He assigns one of his half-siblings to take over the cabin clean-up while he's out. When he returns outside, the Ares boy is standing patiently, hands in his pockets, watching the flurry of activities inside.

"Your cabin looks like a library," the boy comments when Stiles is near enough to hear. He doesn't sound mocking and what he said isn't in particular insulting, but Stiles gets defensive all the same. From his time at camp, he gets this automatic response to the Ares bunch.

"And yours look like," he pauses, and they both turn to look at cabin five right across from Athena. Its blood-red paint job is giving Stiles goosebumps. Not to mention the stuffed boar's head on the doorway with soulless eyes that seem to be following everyone's movements, and the ugly barbed wires on the roof. It's an angry-looking cabin that's very fitting to its aggressive and violent occupants. "-a nightmare."

Stiles expects the boy to sneer, but he gets a different reaction. The new Ares kid laughs. "You think it looks bad outside? It's absolute chaos inside." The boy turns to him, smiling cheekily. "You should come and visit sometimes."

Stiles stops short and takes a moment to consider the boy. He's never made an Ares kid laugh before, at least not that isn't derisive. They all think Stiles is stuck up even when he was only new to the camp. Only Fred, the head counselor, tolerates him, and he only does so because Stiles handed his ass to him in capture-the-flag last summer. His grudging respect is because he got beat by a rookie. Typical. This boy, though, doesn't seem to be corrupted - yet. It's only been a few days. Stiles replies with a serious, "I will," the boy's face lights up in return, probably mistaking it as Stiles flirting back. So he adds, "When it's my turn for cabin inspection. I give decent scores."

The quick shooting up of his eyebrows means he doesn't quite believe that.

But Stiles does. Last summer, he gave them 1/5. It would have been zero, but Fred had made an effort to upturn the bunk beds back in their upright position and shove all strewn underwear inside a box. He only hopes those were burned after and not distributed back to their owners. Stiles is a saint, considering.

He moves them forward, tracing the steps to the Big House. They walk side-by-side in surprisingly companionable silence for a moment, then Stiles begins introduction. "So, as your official welcome wagon, albeit a few days late," Stiles spreads his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood!"

The boy laughs a little and regards him with amusement. He looks pleasant, but it's disconcerting and just a tad suspicious. An Ares kid is not supposed to be a charmer, newcomer, or otherwise.

"My name is Stiles," he says, pausing in his tracks to politely offer his hand to the boy. "I'm Athena cabin's junior counselor."

The boy smiles and takes Stiles's hand in a firm grip. He mentally registers that the boy's hand is mildly calloused and only slightly bigger than his. And the boy's eyes are blue, like the sky and ocean on a fine day.

"I'm Theo."

Theo is a nice name, too, his brain whispers kindly. Probably short for Theodore. Stiles knows another Theodore from his previous school. That Theodore is bland; this one is far from it. But he's not going to admit that out loud, either.

Stiles clears his throat, breaking their contact. His mind runs on him sometimes (all the time); he hates when that happens. The last time it did, Stiles got humiliated by his crush in front of the others during combat training. What a fun memory. He really shouldn't be thinking about that right now. So he picks up his steps, and Theo follows dutifully, not losing the open expression.

"I'm supposed to give you a starter kit today: the camp's map, our camp brochure, and your study guide for our next sessions." Stiles holds up the book and papers on his other hand. "As much as I'd like to tour you around, we don't have that much time."

Stiles waves a hand to one of the Hermes kids, who's carrying a trunk-load of garbage for disposal. The boy smiles back brightly despite the strain on his face from the weight of the junk. Ever since day one, everyone from cabin eleven has been friendly to Stiles, most especially the head counselor, Kira. So, Stiles always makes a way to return their kindness.

He shifts back to Theo to find him observing the interaction with attention. It's not malicious, though, which still baffles Stiles. He didn't know there could be nice ones from his cabin.

He continues as they near the Big House. "There's a meeting with Chiron and the cabins' head counselors in an hour. Haley, our head, went with Demeter and Dionysus' cabin leaders to Manhattan to deliver strawberries. You know, the camp's source of funds? You'll see that in the brochure," he says, raising the object in question. "I'll have to attend as a proxy."

They arrive at the porch, and Stiles motions for Theo to sit on a bench. He passes the materials to him, "I'll let you check these, and if you have questions, you can ask me."

Theo shuffles the papers absently before lifting his head, "I do."

Stiles is pretty sure he hasn't read a thing yet, but he gestures for him to proceed.

"How did you manage it?" He asks, a genuinely curious look on his face. "You're here for one summer, but you're already second-in-command."

Stiles searches his face and tone for ridicule. He doesn't find it, still suspects it, so he schools his expression to its neutral - not friendly, but also not dismissive. It's a sensible question, anyway. It's not every day that he gets one from an Ares child. "It's not all about tenure here at camp," he starts, gauging.

Theo leans forward to indicate he's listening.

Stiles takes a seat adjacent to his position. If this kid is civil to him, there's no reason not to act the same - even if Stiles still thinks their cabin is the worst. "The eldest or the longest camper automatically gets the head counselor post, and they assign their seconds. Usually, they pick from the next eldest campers, but they can also base on achievements disregarding age or length of stay."

Theo inclines his head, eyes level on Stiles. "Achievements?"

"Yes. Like winning in the camp's games, or successfully returning from a quest."

His eyes flash in thought, and it is with revere when he says, "And you did both."

Stiles blushes embarrassingly. He tries to mask it by ducking his head and rubbing at his cheeks. Stiles is suddenly self-conscious when he is usually gloating. Stiles never passes up an opportunity to rub it in an Ares kid's face how he's defeated them in capture-the-flag like he's born for it.

When Stiles looks up again, the boy is smirking at him, blue eyes darting around his face in a thorough examination. Stiles's guard kicks in again, feeling measured.

He straightens in his perch, lifting his chin haughtily. "Yes," he makes sure that his tone is sharp. "I led my team to victory against yours. If you have any doubt to the legitimacy of that claim, you can remind Fred how he uselessly hung upside-down like a wet market chicken while I plucked the flag from his hands."

Stiles waits for the offended snarl and stream of profanities, but once again, he's knocked off his careful balance. Theo's face splits in a wide grin, and he laughs. "So, that's why he doesn't share details, the loser."

Stiles goggles, starting to feel annoyed by the unusual behavior. "Aren't you going to mock me and defend his honor?"

Theo snorts, "What honor?" He snickers for a few more and then puts his attention to the reading materials when he recovers.

Stiles finds the situation peculiar, so he stays quiet and allows Theo to read, answering when he has more questions and volunteering information that isn't in print.

Later, when they adjourn, he prepares to leave when Theo leans to tell him, "I'm not like my siblings. I don't hate clever people." He pauses, and with an easy grin, adds: "Fred might even be right. I think I'm attracted to one of them."

He doesn't wait for Stiles's reply - not that Stiles has one to that statement. He only stands there, taken aback, and red as a startled tomato.

Theo, finally displaying the familiar audacity comparable to his kins, winks. "I'll see you later, Stiles."

And well, it's impossible not to notice him everywhere now.

~•~

[1][2][companion]

#teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf crossover #camp half blood #teen wolf characters #as demigods #demigod au #tw demigod au ficlet #steo #steo ficlet #steo au #teen wolf demigod au series #word count: 1584 #fics tag #demigodseries

39 notes · View notes

alatismeni-theitsa · 4 years

Note

Can I low key rant? It's not a big rant, at all! I think...just, I'm a non greek Hellenic Polytheist, and I think I've got decent knowledge of stuff, but I've got problems with memory and thinking and such, and I feel like I'll never be able to get to an acceptable level of understanding. It sucks cause I try hard, but then the "deeper" stuff is fuzzy in my head, and I end up worrying I'm just appropriating your culture, if that's the right wording :/ (Your blog is lovely btw!!)

Hellooo

Being in STEM I have learned the most two basic lessons it has to offer 1) It's valuable and brave to admit when you don't have the answer to something 2) Your brain is dumb and won't remember all this information you've been taught. Being in STEM and working with huge amount of information, I am reminded all the time about my brain limitations. "You have only one mind for Winter and Summer" we say in Greece, and it's a perfect phrase for when our limitations get to us.

To sum this up, I totally understand your situation. You already recognise that you don't know something and this is great. Now on to solving it!

Firstly, I suggest making a list with all the things you want to learn. E.g. "Apollo's myths", "Zeus' actions during the Trojan war", "Aphrodite's birth". Find information online about those things and keep it on digital or actual files. Maybe make files for each god, area or era you want to study. Once you find the information keep it in the file. You know that you are going to forget this information so keep it there to revise it. Add info there when appropriate.

So you have to give some time to finding information or categorising the information you already have. This way you don't have to struggle to keep the info in your head all the time. You know where the info is and how to access it. Now you have more free space in your head.

After that, maybe you want to have some days for revisiting this stored information. It won't stay in your mind forever but repetition can help remembering things for a bigger period of time. So, you may want to go like "I will devote Tuesday to Ares" and then you sit for an hour or more (with breaks or none) and take a look at the information you have in the Ares file. If your mind is tired you can just go over the basic points, you don't have to study heavily.

And if you don't remember stuff after this process, that's fine. You still have a repository for refence every time a question arises. You may study a recent article and there might arise a need to go to one of your files, to combine new with old information. If you reach a conclusion after the combination of points, note it down to the appropriate file before it leaves your head. You may want to write "I read in book X and article Y that this god was honoured this way because thing Z was popular in Greece. (See file "festivals", summer_festivals.txt)".

You may also need to combine different conclusions, so you can deepen your understanding. Obviously start from basics and general things and then go to more specific ones. For example, first learn about the birth of a god and then about his lovers. (Actually, what is most important will be defined by your worship or the discussions of your community).

Think of the whole process like building a ladder one step at a time. After a while, you find yourself at the bottom of that ladder. Then you don't need to rebuild it in order to add another step on the top. You just need to step on the existing steps and add one more to the top. The higher you go, the deeper your understanding.

Have references for your future self on those notes. Make it as easy as possible for yourself to navigate information you have stored. If you want to use another method of organising information, such as graphs, boards etc, feel free to do it!

Let's be realistic, ancient Greek religion and tradition has a ton of information. Many times I don't remember things I took tests on. It's just of my long term exposure that some information has stuck more easily. But I still forget most of it on a good day 😂 it's possibly you and I will never learn all the information that is out there about ancient Greece, so we can be a bit lenient to ourselves.

I think that if you apply this method you will realise you will become more confident in your knowledge. I firmly believe you have knowledge - you said it yourself. You are just overwhelmed by the amount of information available and the fact that you won't be able to keep it all in your head and that makes you doubt yourself.

Worst case scenario: If you NEED to remember something but it's not accessible to you at the time you can say "Sorry, I don't remember/know this. I will come back to you after I have studied a bit. Can we speak again about it later?" It's a perfectly normal thing, as most of people can't remember tons of stuff. That's why we invented writing, summaries and analysis in the first place. I wish we could hold whole libraries in our heads but we can't :/

Another Greek saying: "The person who has no brains has feet". It means you can compensate for your weak mental ability with your actions. It can also mean that, since you recognise your mental weakness, you should be prepared to do a different kind of work to achieve the same results as someone else. One of my weaknesses is that I forget things all the time. What I do to compensate for that is leaving notes everywhere and easily accessible. Ofc I can also apply the phrase to the time I forgot to bring my wallet to the market and I realised it just before a purchase. Then I had to run back home to take the wallet in order to complete the purchase. I can say for sure that day I used my feet more than my brain 😂 But, hey, I got the job done!

Sorry if this post was too long! I hope it will help you ♥️

#learning #Hellenic polytheism #pagan #wiccan #greek gods #ancient Greece #gods #deities #classics #academia #studying #answered

46 notes · View notes

paulasamuels · 5 years

Text

Finis

I'm tired, friends. According to my Fitbit, I've walked just over 290,000 steps since arriving in France 2 weeks ago today. Today's the first day I failed to reach the 10,000 step mark, as I spent 6 hours on a train, then another couple of hours on the Metro & RER getting to my airport hotel, where I'm settled for the evening.

Traveling as I do via public transit requires preparation, patience, persistence, confidence (even if you have to fake it), and stamina. Add a language barrier, and expect the anxiety to increase significantly. For me, the benefits far outweigh the difficulties, as many of the experiences I've documented in this blog wouldn't have happened had I been tied to the schedule of a guided tour. I know to expect, though, that there will be challenges and not everything will go smoothly. For example...

Today went something like this: up at 7:00 to shower and get dressed, then breakfast at the "Brioche Chaud" where a lady who wasn't loving her job at all served me a Nutella croissant (yum!) and some other pastry that was so-so. Then back to my room to write out a post card and grab an empty bag to take to the Monoprix to shop for train picnic food. Stop at the post office to mail the post card, but first wait 10 minutes for them to open and then try to figure out which line is the correct one, only to get stuck behind a lady who can't seem to decide which size box she needs to mail her stuff. On to the Monoprix to purchase enough food for a small army, then back to the hotel to check out. Walk 3 blocks to the train station with my backpack, purse, bulging suitcase, and bag of food, being careful not to be run over by a scooter, bicycle, tram, or vehicle. Arrive at the Gare de Nice Ville with several hundred other folks waiting for the track numbers to be posted. Train arrives but is strangely parked beyond the station, and when I go to find my car, voiture #8, there isn't one. Go to an SNCF rep on the platform..."Monsieur, je cherche la voiture huit." He makes a connecting gesture with his hands, and I understand that my half of the train, with voiture 8, will be arriving shortly and connecting to the rest of the train. Boarding at last, I get behind a large, noisy group of Asian tourists who have severely overpacked and can't seem to find room for their gigantic suitcases. That finally gets resolved, I find my seat, share a look of incredulity with the Frenchman seated next to me, fish my earbuds out of my bag, and crank up my music to block out the noise...and it's only 10:00 AM.

Six hours later, I emerge from the train at the Gare de Lyon in Paris, having already mapped out my transit strategy using my Paris Metro map before I left the train. Walk and walk until I see signs for Metro line #1, follow the signs until I find a ticket machine, make no less than 5 attempts before I successfully purchase my RER ticket that will get me to the airport. Stop at an information center to be sure: "Je vais a l'aeroport Charles Degaulle. (Hold up my newly purchased RER ticket.) C'est bon pour le Metro aussi?" Oui. Off to the turnstile, where I make the rookie mistake of pulling my bag through behind me, and it gets hopelessly stuck in the turnstile doors, where no amount of tugging or cursing will release it. Another commuter takes pity on me and puts his ticket in so the doors will release...otherwise I might still be there! Make my way through the Metro correspondence...up and down the stairs with my bags, get on line 1, which is jam packed, then transfer to line 5 at Bastille, then to RER at Gare Du Nord, where I board a North-bound train heading for the airport, terminal 2. This takes 30 minutes, and I have to stand for most of it. Arrive at the airport at last, where I begin searching for the big pink bus that's supposed to shuttle me to my airport hotel. I show 2 guards the screenshot of the email describing how to find said bus, but they don't know where it is. So I move on, eventually finding someone who points me in the right direction, and finally the bus arrives. Initially miss the stop for my hotel because the name is slightly different than expected. Realize my mistake and hop up quickly, leaving my leftover picnic food (and my treasured utensils) in my seat. Fortunately, I realize this in time to retrieve it and get off the bus with everything and walk next door to my hotel.

Dinner for tonight was at a hotel restaurant nearby. Decent omelet, salad and fries, but my stomach was a bit queasy from the anxiety of the afternoon, so I didn't finish it.

My room for tonight isn't much. The entire bathroom is one of those all-in-one-piece drop-in jobs, sort of like an RV bathroom, but probably not as nice. A bunk bed positioned over my bed could well be the source of a bump on the head should I have to get up during the night.

Off to bed now to prepare for another long day of travel tomorrow. Did I mention that I'm tired?

1 note · View note

thegardenandthegrave · 6 years

Text

Death Perception: Alexi Maruska And The Ritual Sacrifice.

I was sitting in the kitchen, munching on a warm cookie and trying to explain everything to my mother when the chanting began. Mom continued her tirade over the chorus of Latin, unaware. I sighed, my shoulders slumping, and grabbed another cookie. I hadn't had a proper meal all day, I'd died only a few hours ago, and now I had a nonstop job that didn't care if I was busy trying to placate the woman who had given me life.

The first woman, rather.

Linda had restored me to my body and given me a chance at a second life. The fact that I couldn't imagine going to college while working as a reaper didn't matter. I was alive. That was more most people got.

"Are you even listening to me?" Mom asked, and I snapped to attention. Those words, no matter what tone they were said in, were dangerous.

"Yeah, yes. Sorry mom." I nodded vigorously and tried to block out the single voice of a man announcing something in a language I didn't know. Horror struck me as I realized what that meant. People died all over the world, there was no guarantee that I'd be assigned only to the local deaths.

I stood in a rush, the stool crashing against the linoleum.

"Passport."

"Alexi?"

"I need my passport right now. I can tell when I'm about to disappear again, and-"

"I'll get it." She was already hurrying out of the room, shouting over her shoulder. "Grab the spare cash in my purse and your phone charger, just in case. How long do you have?"

"I don't know. I only started this morning."

"You didn't ask any questions before you agreed?"

The disapproval in my mother's voice came closer as she hurried from the office to the kitchen, holding my passport out. I took it, shoving the cash and charger into my pockets. My heart was racing. I shook my head, scanning the room for anything else I might need to take with me. There was a fruit bowl on the counter. I grabbed one of the apples, wondering if immortality meant not needing to eat healthily, or at all.

"Would you rather I stay dead?" I asked, and then paled as I felt the tug towards Jenny Anderson, who was only sixteen and couldn't see where she was or understand the voices around her. Her wrists burned and she thought they might have chopped her hands off, but she couldn't concentrate well enough to know for sure. Had they poisoned her, or- "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. I love you."

"I love you, too, Alexi. Be safe, and call me when you can." Already I was fading. She reached out to pat my cheeks, a sad look on her face that I wanted to fix. I didn't have the time. "We're not done discussing this. You're not getting out of college just because you died, kid."

"Mom!" I protested, but she wasn't there. Instead, there was a circle of masked and hooded figures surrounding me, and a young woman who lay prone at my feet. Her limbs were tied down, stakes in the ground keeping her from pulling herself free. A blindfold was tied over her eyes, and her white dress was stained with red.

Her hands were nowhere to be seen.

"We call on Azriel, the angel of death!" One of the masked figures called out, and I turned to him with a frown. In his grasp were the two missing hands, raised up towards the sky. Nothing happened. There was a murmur behind me as the idiots around me began to realize how stupid this sacrifice was. They'd mutilated a young woman, who happened to be bleeding to death as they attempted to call on a supernatural entity, and their ritual wasn't going to work. . The man holding up the dismembered hands tried again, in Latin. "In vocamus Ezrihel, angelus mortis!"

This time, I felt something.

The reverberations that ran through me were subtle, but they gave me pause. I stared at the circle of occultists, wondering what power they were about to unleash on the land. An angel, perhaps, but one that came to the beck and call of human sacrifices. That didn't sound like the kind of angel I wanted walking the same earth as those I cared about; if angels actually existed in the first place.

"You'll want to take her soul before they sacrifice her." The sound of Linda's monotone beside me didn't make me scream, but it was a close thing. I whirled on her, only to find a clipboard and a frown turned in my direction. The young woman moaned in pain and I turned back to her. The man with her hands was standing over her. Beside him, another cloaked figure was kneeling with his arms raised, offering an ornate dagger.

"Azriel." The man whispered, turning to pick up the dagger. His voice was filled with awe, and fear struck through me at the realization that he really believed he was about to summon an angel by stabbing an innocent young woman. Linda sighed, impatient.

The knife was raised over the young woman and the chanting picking back up as an entire coven of crazy worked to bring a representative of death to the mortal realm. I knelt beside the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. I could feel the electric light of her soul, stuck more to the body than Robert had been, but becoming looser by the minute.

"Now." Linda ordered, and I pulled. Jenny Anderson came away from her body right as the knife was brought down. Her corpse died without a soul inside of it and there were no other tremors of power. The young woman stared down at her stumped wrists in dismay. Hopeful, and running on instinct, I stepped over to the dismembered hands and pulled two incorporeal version out of them. I handed them over and she grasped them to her chest with her forearms.

"Would that have worked?" I asked, turning to Linda. She was already turning away, but paused at my question and looked up at me in surprise.

"The afterlife is based on belief, Alexi." She reminded me.

"So death gods are real. What about regular gods. like Shiva or Hermes?"

"Interesting choices." Linda mused, but didn't answer my questions. Instead, she nodded towards my newly reaped soul. "Don't let souls be sacrificed, there's too much power in that. And don't let her move on until you're away from this mess. You become corporeal as soon as she moves on."

"What about-"

But Linda was gone, and I was standing in a field with a circle of disgruntled cult members and a distraught ghost.

"My hands." Jenny gasped, staring down at the nubs where her hands had been. I shook my head, taking her hands from her. Running on instinct, I pressed them against her wrists and watched as they reattached themselves. Her surprised look was gratifying.

"Come on then, you heard the boss." I said, heading towards a water tower in the distance. That would lead to a road, which might lead to a highway. If I were lucky I would find out where I was and hitch a ride to the nearest town. Jenny trailed after me, still staring down at her perfectly fine hands. Once we reached a dirt road she seemed to snap out of her stupor and trotted along beside me.

"Was that God?"

"Hardly." I snorted, eyes landing on a paved road. I turned to Jenny, ready to become corporeal once more. "Do you believe in that kind of thing, Heaven and Hell and all that?"

She nodded.

I spread my hands and a white mist formed between them, expanding to a decent sized portal. I waved my hands towards it, ushering Jenny in without explanation. She'd probably end up in Heaven, considering how young and innocent she was, and how she'd been sacrificed by a cult. They usually used virgins for that, or so I'd heard.

The moment Jenny was gone, along with her cloudy portal, I dug my hands into my pockets to pull out my phone. I started walking as I dialed, passing a green sign announcing Detroit was only 15 miles out. I wasn't terribly close to home, but I was in the same country at least. On top of that, I had a faint memory of a cousin who'd moved here in the past year or so. The phone picked up on the first ring and I grinned.

"Hey Mom, you won't even guess where I am right now."

Patreon | Tumblr | Facebook

#alexsi maruska #death perception #personification of death #grim reaper #reaper #writeblr #flash fiction #short story #jessicabettsbooks #jessica betts books #theauthorandi #the author and i #original content #oc #bettsican-2018 #original posts

0 notes

hejgyrus · 7 years

Conversation

Cameron's First Time (p 1)

Pre-words: Ok just before we start... this is not legit, this is just the horny fantasy of a virgin fag (me!). Our story begins with Cameron (18 M) getting ready to go out on a date with his new boyfriend Ari (21 M).

//TL;DR to find fucking scene, do CTRL+F and type [FUCKING BOOKMARK]

Narrator: Tonight is Cameron's big night. His heart is flying all over the place as he prepares for his date with his new man he just met on the internet (this will end well, shut up). He has only seen pictures all over Instagram but he knows some things about Ari: he's ~6' 5", dirty blond, long-ass dreadlocks, works out, and tames horses. Cameron himself is: 5" 6', extremely white and red eye'd (he's somewhat albino, it's not obvious from a distance), 97 lb, white hair, and really smooth. For the past hour Cameron has been preparing for this event: choosing cloths, trying clear lipstick, regretting that choice, regretting that choice; and finally decided to just go for a cute messy look. A white button-down t-shirt, light grey shorts and some hair gel to make it seem as a bully gave him a nuggy. (he ended up going back on the lipstick).

Cameron: Fuck, shit, fuck, Fuck, FUCK!!!! Oh god, regret, regret! I'm not doing this, nope, nope, not today. I'll just... kill myself! Ya, that should be a good way out of this. No wait, science is too good for that, and Ari will find me dead.

*ding dong*

Cameron: I'M LEAVING, OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW! I CAN'T TAKE THIS.

*door knocking*

*Cameron walks towards door regretting*

Cameron: I'll just throw up on his shoes, that should make him leave.

*Open's door to a giant Manticore*

Cameron: Woh, Hi!

Ari: *snickers* wSup?

Cameron: (gently)Panicking, (fully)still alive

Ari: Ready to go?

Cameron: (NO!) Sure

Narrator: The two get into Ari's decent looking open cockpit jeep, and head off to an outdoor restaurant on the beach. When they arrived they saw a pretty fun place with a small main building and a field of beach couches surrounding picknick-like coffee tables, the sun was setting beautifully on the horizon. Cameron finally managed to compose himself.

Ari: This place is great, I worked here as a bartender while I was at school.

Cameron: Wow, what were you studying?

Ari: Veterinary practices.

Cameron: Ah

Narrator: The two sit at a "table" closer to the water, when a waitress comes over to to her job, you fill in the dialog.

Her:

Ari:

Her:

Cameron:

Her:

Cameron:

Narrator: Ari got a steak done cut up to be edible without leaning forward, and Cameron got a chicken salad, but the chicken is actually pork, it is a pork salad.

Ari: Aright, ya know what... I'm not good with dating...

Cameron: Oh don't worry, this is actually my first time.

Ari: Really! Then let's do the all the cliches, just for the lulz.

Cameron: Ok.

Ari: So tell me about yourself?

Cameron: Oh, god this is going to take a minute. I guess it all started when I was born.

Ari: ..

Cameron: I was born to a pair of Icelandic swingers who decided to elope to Israel, lying about being Jewish to get in free, who decided to fuck around and got stuck with me! I don't know much about them because the orphanage was incompetent for the most part, but they did tell me my mother was 7" 2'... I guess the Icelandic giant's gene.

Ari: Wait then why are you so short?

Cameron: There, actually, is a good reason for that! It's sad but good. Ok, so they left me at an orphanage... Now the Israelis are on the darker end of Caucasians, right? And the country is mostly a desert, so they didn't know my tolerance for sunlight, and decided to be conservative. I didn't really go out and play a lot. That didn't stunt my growth, but it did make me... smaller then the other kids.

Ari: How big did they get?

Cameron: Look at your arms and drop 3 inches

Ari: Oh

Cameron: So back to the house. *Narrator: Wow he opened up quick!* My first foster family was great, the dad was a high ranking military guy. The mother was very active in the community, her two sons were soo nice to me, always forcing me out of my shell and taking me out with their friends. Their friends, on the other hand, were not good people.

Ari: Y

Cameron: Well there's this word in Hebrew, "Arrsce"... It's a healthy mix of punk and bitch. They were that.

Ari: Where's this going...

Cameron: Well shit happened and they beat me up. Violently... comatose-ly. I lost 3 months of my life, and my Icelandic giant's gene.

Ari: Holy shit dude.

Cameron: Ya after that, and the media fire, technicalities happened and a US dignitary managed to "extradite" me to and keep me as his foster kid.

Ari: Lucky break?

Cameron: No he was pretty cold to me, and the rest of his family, but at 16 the state said I could leave the house and live somewhere else on their rent so long as I worked. And I did. I got an apartment over a subway where I still work.

Ari: Quite the life story.

Cameron: Ya I got use to my past.

Ari: But you can't accept that as normal, that was one of the saddest stories I heard in awhile.

Cameron: Too late.

Narrator: Ok I realize you have been waiting for the fucking, you fucking perv... I'll get to that soon...

Cameron: So what about you? You should have some stories.

Ari: Ahh well. My early life started off boring and bland from a broken family.

Cameron: Same!

Ari: He, sure... my life didn't really start until I got my first job a this little horse ranch. Well, like I said, bland and boring.

Cameron: You aren't boring, I love horses... at my size I need something under me to be my bitch (and it defiantly couldn't be you)

Narrator: The two continue to talk about meaningless drivvle to which I do not feel like writing out. If you have never been on a date, imagine a conversation... there ya go, that's what's happening. After a spectacular diner the two proceed to take a nice calm walk on the beach, now going dark.

Cameron: This is a day I won't forget for a long time, thanks for this luv.

Ari: Why dose it have to end? Ya know I have a whole tent and camping shit just lying around in my car, we could just camp out on the beach for the night.

Cameron: I don't know, I don't usually sleep with a guy I just met.

Ari: You've never dated.

Cameron: Point, let's do it!

Ari: Great, take this flashlight and start collecting fire wood, I'll go get the jeep... it's gonna take me about 10 minutes.

Cameron: *sarcastically* I miss you already.

Ari: Bye *kisses Cameron on the lips lightly, like they've been together for years*

Cameron: I... Iiii.. wut

Ari: *with slight regret* I'll be back *Leaves running*

Cameron: Wait I just let this guy leave me alone on a beach at night! He kissed me! How do I know he won't run away. Wait I just had my first kiss! *turns on this tiny pocket sized flashlight that lights up the entire rock face of the cliff the beach sits on* Wouw... I don't know how shallow he is but I'd come back for this flashlight.

Narrator: Cameron collects whatever scrap wood he could find, growing a large pile by the time Ari came back following the immensely powerful vibrator sized flashlight as a beacon.

Ari: Aright! Let's see what we got here...

Cameron: You kissed me.

Ari: Lemme just get started on this fire first.

Cameron: Is this how first times go?

Ari: *fiddling with matches* You mean me not thinking before I act, sure why not.

Cameron: Are we just going to forget that

Ari: *looks him in the eye awkwardly* Yes *Boops Cameron on his snoot*

Cameron: Ahowkey I'll just unpack the tent.

Ari: Oh its one of those spring loaded type deals, just pull off the straps and it will explode.

*Pulls off straps and out pops a giant tent*

Cameron: Oh!

Narrator: Now with the fire blazing and crackling because of moisture, the tent exploded out and tied in place with an inflatable mattress inside (No Ari isn't a creep who just caries around a fuck tent, and it isn't a fuck tent). The two just sit around staring off at the black horizon talking about some deep shit.

Cameron: I was beaten a lot.

Ari: Why

Cameron: Governor Shit-ass was for corporal punishment

Ari: What the cold American family

Cameron: Yup

Ari: You wanna talk about it.

Cameron: No.

Ari: What did they do.

Cameron: Everything.

Ari: Tell me.

Cameron: Nothing was ever right. I couldn't make my bed straight, speak without stuttering, keep straight A+(s) for 4 year.

Ari: *hold him* you're not alone.

Cameron: At some point, he couldn't stand me so much he put me in an orphanage in his town to teach me a lesson.

Ari: Did they also beat you?

Cameron: All because of him.

Ari: Hey, come here... ya wanna know something? One time my Dad was having one of his fits, and he threw me across the house so hard my arm broke in half. I came back at him so hard he lost consciousness.

Cameron: I've never been naked.

Ari: What.. how?

Cameron: I mean I bathe and everything, but in living alone for 2 years, I've never just been naked.

Ari: Was it Governor Shit-ass?

Cameron: The orphanage had a very creative way of punishing those who explore themselves.

Ari: What?

Cameron: The doctor said I started puberty, and the a week later, I got my first boner. I didn't understand what was happening so I ran to the bathroom and started poking around at it. And a nun followed me thinking I was sick, but she caught me, and she thought I was masturbating.

Ari: ..

Cameron: Then she dragged me out of the bathroom and kicked me senseless.

Ari: No

Cameron: But it didn't end there. The next day they took me to the auditorium, which had a thrust built out for a play. They stood me in the middle of the thrust and told me to strip.

Ari: Did you?

Cameron: I didn't understand why, but after I finished stripping and was just stood up there ashamed of myself I heard a storm of foot steps coming towards the door. I tried to run but the nuns were all there looking at me. Then the entire orphanage burst in looking confused until one boy pointed at me and started laughing.

Ari: Oh my god

Cameron: I tried to cover myself up but a nun whipped me on my back and told me to straighten up and put my hands on my head. *now crying a little* and I did.

Ari: *holds him tighter*

Cameron: Then she said, "This is what happens when you explore

your body, you have to share what you found!"

Ari: That's terrible

Cameron: The boys were just pointing at me laughing, and the girls were giggling and disgusted. I couldn't do anything but stand up there and cry. Then the nuns cleared a path for me to walk out naked and alone with my hands on my head, then they led me to my dorm and left me to get dressed.

Ari: ..

Cameron: I cried in my bed for hours until the rest of the boys came to go to sleep. I heard them talk about me, but they didn't notice me.

Ari: You were hiding.

Cameron: The next day no-one would look at me straight, and even one kid pantsed me in the middle of class so that everybody me see my bare ass like yesterday.

Ari: Hey look at me, that's all in the, loook at me. You're 18, you're out of the system. I'm here for you.

Cameron: *hugges Ari as hard as he could*

[FUCKING BOOKMARK]

Ari: D.. Do you want to be naked?

Cameron: Yes.

Ari: Ok come here, stand up. I'm here for you, just follow my lead.

*Ari standing on his knees starts unbuttoning Cameron's shirt slowly*

*Cameron watches him as one half of his face is pitch black and the other glows in the fire*

*Ari gets to the bottom of the buttons, and pulls his shirt off, letting it fall to the ground*

Ari: How do you feel?

Cameron: Nervous.

*Ari undoes Cameron's belt and with one swift move pulls it out leaving it a few feet away*

*Cameron feels his pants drop slightly, suddenly he feels some of that same fear from the orphanage*

*Ari undoes the single button holding Cameron's pants up and slowly lets them drop while looking him in the eyes*

*Cameron feels his knees shutter*

Ari: Now how do you feel?

Cameron: Scared.

Ari: Do you wanna keep going?

Cameron: *nods*

*Ari looks at Cameron's underwear, they were big loose black boxers*

*Ari slowly moves his hands up Cameron's smooth legs to his pants and gently grabs each side*

*Cameron remembers the feeling of that one boy who too pantsed him and prepares to cover what's underneath*

*Ari pulls, ever so gently and slowly taking in every moment of the experience, Cameron is about to break out of a thick shell. The waist line almost got to the base of Cameron's cock when he moves his hands in to cover himself.*

*Ari continues to pull until they're all the way down*

*Cameron has his head down, he's all tense... like he's hiding*

Ari: Look at me *tilts Cameron's head up*, how do you feel?

Cameron: Alone.

*Ari swiftly grabs Cameron and gently lays him on his back, on the sand, next to the fire and sits over him. All of Ari's dreads flow off the the right, away from the fire, forming a curtain. The fire illuminates Ari's whole face glowed in the fire*

*Ari grabs Cameron's wrists, still firmly covering what little was left, and moves them to his sides. Cameron is now totally exposed*

Ari: *softly* How do you feel?

Cameron: Like running away.

*Ari puts hand on Cameron's chest. Even if he wanted to, Cameron couldn't run away... but he didn't want to.*

Ari: What about now?

Cameron: I want to scream.

*Ari comes down and kisses him on the lips, he was so slow and took his time*

*Cameron whimpers slightly, he can feel Ari's tongue slowly slip through his lips and rest on his tongue. The sensations, emotions, and fears finally got to him and he blacked out*

Narrator: Ok what? I just got back in after I was forced out of the script because I was labeled a distraction for this scene. Ok.. so, the night goes by and Cameron slept like a rock. The next day he wakes up to the sun and finds himself undisturbed, the fire somehow went on all night and Ari was asleep at his side. There were a few people at the beach that early, all nude... turns out this was a nudist beach. Cameron pays them no mind as he walks into the ocean to wake himself up; the water is warm. Ari wakes up a few minutes later and sees Cameron's white hair glisten in the sun as he plays in the water. Ari found some of that weird instant-coffee-juice-shit and pours out 2 red solo cups. When Cameron got back, his smooth white skin wet and glowing in the sun, he sat down on Ari's lap, wrapped his arms around his neck and started to make out with him. Neither of them cared that they were being watched.

0 notes

boofrp · 7 years

Note

1 (more coming) I'm a little confused about your situation. I understand that you don't feel comfortable disclosing all the details with people online, although I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you're asking for donations. I realize mental health plays a big part in the reason why you're unwilling to get a job, but... If I were in your shoes, and I was stuck in a toxic environment, I would be doing whatever I could to ensure I was out of that situation.

[CONTINUED] Sure, offering resources for small fees can be helpful, but there are people out there giving them away for free - so how far can that really get you? Eventually, you’re either going to have to put yourself in an uncomfortable situation and do what’s best for you, so you can escape the toxicity, or you’re going to be stuck there forever. Personally, I think it’s time to grow up and realize you’re not going to make a living off of selling resources. I just think it’s very unfair to those of us who are working for our own money, and I believe you’re completely capable of going out and seeking employment. Yes, you have issues - but so does everyone else. There are people who are way worse off than you are, I’m sure. I’m not trying to be rude, but I’ll admit I’m a tad bit suspicious. A piece of me believes you’re just trying to get whatever you can out of the community, as if they owe you something. You’ve been known to lie before, therefore I just can’t trust your story and accusations. Sorry.

i actually wrote a long ass reply to this but because my computer crashed right before i was about to post it, i lost everything and need to start again lmao. ANYWAY. i never once thought that in a community that is branded to be a “safe haven” and an “escape from life” that i would be thrown some bullshit like this at my feet, making me feel anything but safe or comfortable. honestly there are few messages i have received during my time on this account that made my stomach drop to my feet. this includes messages coming straight out and telling me to kill myself - that i can handle.

but something like this, honestly made my stomach drop and i hope you’re happy because when i first read this last night i began gagging/feel nauseous and then had a full blown anxiety attack and breakdown. now i’ve had some sleep and i’m not reacting as badly as i did at first to this message but i’m still shaking and feeling incredibly sick because: fuck you. now i really hate explaining myself and trying to “prove” myself to people that really do not deserve the time of day from me, but i guess i should have expected this because there are some really fucking toxic people in this community. lets get to the fun part, my actual replies to the points made in these horrible messages !!

POINT A: “if i were in your shoes i would be doing anything to get out of your ~toxic~ situation” --- first of all, be fucking thankful you are not in my situation because it SUCKS. it really sucks and experiencing this level of pain on a daily basis whilst trying to remain positive is really fucking hard. and guess what? YOU’RE NOT IN MY SITUATION. therefore you have no right to sit back and play commentator on everything i have said and done. let’s get that straight. now i have fucking tried to get out of here. let me make you a nice fucking list because you probably won’t settle until you have all the information from me.

>>> i have applied for ten jobs in the space of two days, all of which i was qualified for or they offered training for if i wasn’t. all of the answers were the same: we have filled the spot or you’re not what we’re looking for. and i have to admit my resume is pretty fucking lit because of all the things i achieved before my mental health destroyed my life. >>> i have babysat for a woman who years ago traumatized the FUCK out of me one day and i don’t want to go into specifics but it was really hard to put aside the fact that she made me run home in tears to my mum when i was 12 for a stupid reason. >>> i have considered asking my sister if i could move in with her. get this, any other time i wouldn’t even think of it because: a) she lives in a small three bedroom house - by small i mean really fucking small. b) she has a 3 year old daughter and a 1 year old daughter as well as herself and her boyfriend so you can imagine how much space they have already taken up. OH and she’s having another baby so they would be struggling to even fine space for them. c) i know that if i live with her i will only be able to have a suitcase of my possessions and would have to sleep on the floor, yet i still consider it and am close to asking. d) i have practically lived with her for a month and had a complete breakdown at the end because i was treated like a babysitting machine instead of a human and being an introvert, when spending so much time with people i need time for myself to regenerate but because the house was so small and the children wouldn’t leave me alone - i broke down. >>> i have done things to get $5 that i do not want to talk about because i know that if i even told my family i would immediately be disowned and i am not proud at all about what i’ve done to EAT FOOD. JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. >>> and lastly, i’m asking complete strangers for money - something that i have struggled with all my life is asking people for money, even asking my mother for $5 for school when i was younger invoked anxiety. but here i am.

POINT B: “sure you can offer resources for money but how far is that going to get you? people already make them for free” --- do you REALLY think i came into this thinking that selling resources was going to pay my rent? do you REALLY think i’m dumb enough to believe that i could actually live out on my own with just commissions from people online in exchange for pixels that will be meaningless in a few years? HOW DUMB DO YOU THINK I AM? you know what, $5 every now and again isn’t going to pay for my funeral insurance or my wedding in a few years, but $5 NOW is going to buy me a pretty decent fucking meal for once, it’s going to buy me a part of a ticket out of this small town. in the long run, $5 a week is going to add up and its going to HELP. also, there must be a reason more people are taking commissions each day - because there are actually people in this world who are fucking KIND and i like to believe in those people. paying commissions isn’t even buying my resources to me, because i know these people can get it anytime they want for free. no, it’s like a pat on the back or like paying someone a tip. IT’S JUST BEING FUCKING THANKFUL. if i had money i would be tipping my friends all the time. but i don’t.

POINT C: “it’s unfair for those of us who are working for our money” --- i’m,,, sorry. IS MY MENTAL ILLNESS A FUCKING INCONVENIENCE TO YOU? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS DESTROY HALF OF Y O U R LIFE, MAKING IT ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO EVEN FUNCTION PROPERLY IN THE WORLD? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS DESTROY Y O U R RELATIONSHIPS WITH YOUR OWN FUCKING FAMILY? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS DESTROY Y O U R FRIENDSHIPS? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS TURN Y O U R CHILDHOOD AND ADOLESCENTS INTO APPOINTMENTS WITH A PSYCHOLOGIST, ANTIDEPRESSANTS AND FINDING WAYS TO MAKE YOUR SCHOOL LIFE MORE COMFORTABLE SINCE YOU WERE LITERALLY TWO STEPS AWAY FROM KILLING YOURSELF IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS MAKE Y O U WANT TO KILL YOURSELF MORE TIMES YOU CAN COUNT ON ONE HAND? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS MAKE Y O U ATTEMPT SUICIDE TWICE BEFORE YOU WERE EVEN SIXTEEN? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS EFFECT Y O U IN YOUR WORKPLACE TO THE POINT WHERE YOU WERE CLOSE TO GRABBING THE NEAREST PLASTIC BAG AT YOUR REGISTER AND PULLING IT OVER YOUR HEAD AND SUFFOCATING YOURSELF? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS MAKE Y O U BULIMIC AND ANOREXIC? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS MAKE IT HARD FOR Y O U TO LOOK AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR WITHOUT WANTING TO FUCKING DIE? DID MY MENTAL ILLNESS DESTROY Y O U R BODY IMAGE? FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.

POINT D: “you’re capable for going out and looking for employment” --- please refer to my next answer to another anon who is a fucking dick too.

POINT E: “you’re just trying to get shit out of the community cause you think it owes you something” --- again... FUCK YOU. what the fuck have i done to make you believe i’m that shitty of a person? and if i was trying to scam this community out of money or whatever the fuck you think i’m doing, IT MUST HAVE BEEN THREE FUCKING YEARS IN THE MAKING, BEFORE I EVEN KNEW I COULD MAKE A FEW CENTS USING ADF.LY LINKS. i have lied about things in the past, but things that i a) owned up to and b) were NEVER about my mental health or my living situation. i’mm fucking SURE that if you go through my blog you will find me talking about how fucked i am in life. this isn’t some story that i shit out yesterday for money, for fucks sake. if it seems like i suddenly have all these problems - i’m fucking great at pretending i don’t want to be alive and that i hate myself.

POINT F: “i’m not trying to be rude” --- YES YOU FUCKING ARE. IF YOU WERE NOT TRYING TO BE RUDE YOU WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SELF AWARE OF IT AND PUT YOURSELF ON ANONYMOUS, FOR FUCKS SAKE. IF YOU KNEW THAT THIS WASN’T RUDE, YOU WOULD HAVE COME OFF OFF OF ANONYMOUS, FOR FUCKS SAKE. but of course this isn’t fucking rude it’s just picking away at my life and trying to make it sound like i’m a fucking asshole because i am literally suffering in my own home :~)

you know what? there is no way i can possibly come to a nice conclusion about this message in a sentence or to. so here is all i’m going to say: a) i’M NOT COMING TO YOUR DOORSTEP AND ASKING YOU SPECIFICALLY TO HAND ME OVER $2 SO I CAN BUY DRUGS OR WHATEVER THE FCUCK YOU’RE THINKING and b) YOU DON’T EVEN FUCKING DESERVE AN EXPLANATION FROM ME BECAUSE YOU ARE A FUCKING ASSHOLE. i don’t know what the fuck you want from me. my family is in $7k debt from my mum’s boyfriend’s mum’s funeral a month ago. do you want the fucking death certificate? do you want to see the flowers we got from her funeral insurance? DO YOU WANT A WHOLE FUCKING LIVESTREAM OF HER DEAD BODY BEING LOWERED INTO THE FUCKING GROUND? OH FUCKING HELL, DO YOU WANT TEXTS THAT GO BACK YEARS BETWEEN ME AND MY CLOSEST FRIENDS AND FAMILY OF ME CONSTANTLY TELLING THEM I WISH I WAS FUCKING DEAD? DO YOU WANT ME TO RECORD WHAT I EAT IN A WEEK? DO YOU WANT ME TO RECORD MY MOTHER TELLING ME I’M BEING FAT AND TO STOP EATING? DO YOU WANT ME TO HANG MYSELF IN PUBLIC JUST SO YOU CAN FUCKING SEE HOW SERIOUS THIS IT? i don’t know what the fuck you want from me and what your great plan was when sending these messages, but i hope you’re fucking happy.

#a #if u wanna see me go off then (:#also general trigger warning like if you're sensitive then ?#Anonymous

0 notes