#like don't get me wrong i am grateful that i have a chance at accessing treatment again but holy shit
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amazing when the social worker at the DHS office says 'yeah I don't really understand it myself either'
#WHY is it so hard to figure out how to get psychiatric treatment salkdghsdghkl#anyway I've been playing phone tag for like a week#this is instilling soooo much confidence in the system /s#like don't get me wrong i am grateful that i have a chance at accessing treatment again but holy shit#can you guys get it together also explain your own system more clearly#i feel so bad for anyone who has worse symptoms than i do and/or was never taught how to navigate and advocate for themselves#how is any disabled person supposed to get treatment like this?
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when writers talk about the likes vs reblog ratio, they don't do it for "attention" purposes. they do it because it's a huge problem that spirals like a domino effect and it becomes incredibly disheartening and frustrating.
likes don't tell the writer anything. did you even read the fic or just a few paragraphs? did you like the post to "save it for later"? liking only benefits the reader, not the writer. it doesn't tell the writer what you liked about their fic. it doesn't help the writer reach a wider audience so other people can discover/read their work. and it doesn't help the writer when it comes to maintaining a level of motivation and appreciation that often is achieved by the reader engaging with their fics - reblogging, commenting or sending a message.
let me paint a picture. in the last 3-4 days, i have gotten 150 likes for fics (all tommy shelby ones) and 5 reblogs...
of course, i am super grateful for any and all interactions, for people reading my fics and leaving comments here and there. but at the end of the day, writers need motivation. most of that comes from themselves. finding inspiration in their ideas, music, the show in general, talking to other writers, etc. but a writer can not sustain that motivation for long without the help of the reader/fandom. and some will say that at the end of the day a writer should "write for themselves" - they do. first and foremost, they write to express themselves, to explore things that weren't canon, to give other fans the chance to immerse themselves in something fun, thrilling and emotional. but writing can be such a lonely experience. and it's not selfish or wrong for a writer to wish/ask for more than just likes. to want more appreciation for the content they post which is free, accessible and long-lasting even after the writer stops writing.
please, do not think i am attacking or criticizing anybody who likes fics. but maybe, also pair that like with a reblog, or a comment (an emoji, couple of sentences, or a whole paragraph, doesn't matter), or use the anon feature to show some love to the writer. and you don't have to do it for every fic, but it's nice to do it for a majority of fics from your favourite writer(s). but spamming with likes, personally (i don't want to speak for other writers) leaves such a deflating feeling. and that feeling is very hard to get rid of. and it lingers, and manifests into a tiny voice that often whispers, "that fic wasn't good enough" or "what's the point in posting the next one or finishing all the other ones".
writers need that extra bit of love.
so whenever you can give your favourite writer(s) that extra bit of love, please, do so. because you never know how much that extra bit of love can mean to a writer who may be having a bad day or week or month. who may be questioning their writing skills. or who may just need a little reassurance.
#writing#i need to get this off my chest#been sitting with it for the last 3-5 days and its put me in a bad/meh mood#personal#rant
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I just wanted to let you know, I think you have a really magnetic personality. I do wish I could get to know you better but I'm grateful for your presence here nonetheless. I'm wishing you well and hope you have a good rest of your week.
this is such a lovely message, thank u. having my presence valued means a lot to me, maybe even more so particularly bc i'm not super accessible--not sure if u've tried dming me n have found my response rate to be abysmal etc.
fwiw, i'm not sure anyone knows me well at all these days even tho it's something i kinda long for. i don't make it easy, but that's not intentional so much as it's intrinsic to the stuff i'm made of n sorta where i am overall rn. for starters i'm v introverted n am more often than not running on a deficit wrt 1-on-1 social energy. as a result i tend to be guarded abt where i put that energy, n also i seem to be way too good at putting it in the wrong places, which in turn can leave me feeling more disconnected and/or too desensitized to engage w (or sometimes even notice) ppl who r genuinely interested in connecting rather than just looking for a novel source of entertainment or wtv the case may be.
as it stands currently, anyone trying to get to know me is likely to need a lot of patience n persistence (plus probably a good bit of luck) even to have a chance of building some compelling rapport. that's not ideal, n i need a better strategy. i don't mind having a bit of a barrier to entry into my world, but it's gotten p ridiculous n is more detrimental than helpful. hell, i'm not even sure what knowing me might look like at this stage, but i do hope to experience it again on a mutual level while i'm still alive n hopefully sooner rather than later :)
i deeply appreciate everything u've expressed as well as u taking the time n making the effort to let me know. thank u regarding my week too, n i hope ur weekend will soon be off to a promising start 🫶
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Tranquil's Studyblr Challenge, 20-22
Today, I am grateful for having a doctor who really listens to me.
Today, I choose to look forward to the future.
When was the last time you let yourself express yourself openly? What did you express?
This is kind of a silly one, but a few hours ago I walked to my various obligations wrapped in a blanket because it's FREEZING today. I'm very emotionally sensitive to cold, so I end up utilizing kind of strange coping mechanisms when it gets chilly out. I think the most accessible form of self-expression for me is being willing to look a little odd for the sake of comfort--like yes, I look like I'm freezing and uncomfortable because I am, thank you very much.
What about you makes you proud to be you?
I'm proud of the name I use in real life, one I chose almost exactly a year ago. I think it fits me perfectly, and I'm also proud of how assertive I've been about switching to my new name in public, to the point where people often don't even guess that the name I give them isn't my legal name, even after I tell them I'm trans. I've had the luck of moving to a new state where the people who casually knew me by my deadname are no longer present in my life, and it makes me really happy to get the chance to use the name that fills me with so much joy all the time!
What kind of mental health support do you have? How often do you utilize these resources?
I have a counselor & a psychiatrist, along with a support community of friends & family. I don't talk much with my psychiatrist, but that's fine because I like the meds I'm on right now. I get to see my counselor every week, though, which is awesome!
I haven't been great about discussing my mental health with my friends--I like to share happy things, it just feels somehow wrong in my chest to put my current stresses into words. I think there's this element of embarrassment about articulating the problems I struggle to solve, so I prefer only to share about things that either don't upset me that much or that I've already come to a resolution on. When I do share, I tend to gloss over it really quickly, never willing to admit that my problems are actually problems. With my family, I share about my physical health, but that's about it. I think it really comes down to my unwillingness to ask for help--even just venting has become more painful than the problems I would like to vent about, and what I really like is advice, but I haven't asked for that in a good while. I guess that one is a work in progress :)
My state also has a great crisis text & call line, which I've been very good about using when I need it! I would recommend that everyone have a state or local crisis text line number saved in their phones, because they can be really valuable resources, especially for those in life situations where talking out loud about their mental state is uncomfortable or unsafe.
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After a couple hours of self reflecting I realized that the kink group I was trying to be a part of was (through no fault of their own) contributing to my utter insanity over the past couple of months
I think the combination of trying to seek approval and emotional flashbacks just made it impossible to function. On one hand, it pushed me to talk about things I was avoiding talking about, but on the other I was avoiding talking about them because the little goblin that lives in my brain wants to sabotage everything I love by making the worst way to say things the most appealing for no reason.
And it's so easy to be like "I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine" that it's hard to notice that I'm losing out on hard won progress for . . . nothing . . .
I don't have anyone to blame but myself for it. I don't know what's worse about that: I could have prevented it and didn't, or that the worst moment of the past three years is connected to me finally being willing to talk about a minor uncomfortable thing that had been bothering me for awhile. And I can't believe I have to be grateful for even a scrap of self control that could have made the situation much worse- I could have lashed out even more, or completely destroyed any amount of respect or chance to gain respect or any affection for me whatsoever, and it's chilling. I have a migraine appointment a couple hours from now and my main focus is trying to pen myself in to not do anything else stupid, deleting all of the advice I got from generic Relationship advice from the internet and reminding myself to never google anything ever again, and just laying in like, paralyzed fear in bed.
And in some ways it finally slotted something into place that I've been trying to hammer home since forever, that if I have something that upsets me and I get clarification and it makes me feel better that's the whole fucking point. That if I trust someone more than anyone else then they're a good person for me to be around. That if someone makes me happy that is a sign that I'm loved and cared for.
I feel like for good long time I've been acting on the script I was being told that I had to do in order to not be hurt. I didn't know any other way to function. Now it's like . . . Instead of protecting myself, I need to protect the people I care about from me. And no one seems to get this. My therapist, my friends outside of people close to me- they're like "oh! You seem fine! You seem nice!" and I don't know what to do to get them to stop saying that. I wouldn't feel like I needed a reality check on what I want to say if I was a nice person. There is evidence that I am not a nice person that people refuse to accept. It makes me worry that my friends are not nice people (excluding, again, Zach who mostly just goes hmmmmmm in a reassuring way) which is the insanity again !!!! Why is my first impulse to think everyone is mean but me?
I don't know what's wrong with me! I don't know how to prevent this from happening. Every time I think I catch it, there's just a worse unexpected problem. I think I'm never going to be done. I'll always be sitting here trying to do the basic normal human person thing of not feeling the dread that something is wrong around me and I don't know what it is.
Having followers on Tumblr, trying to get approval, trying to be acceptable, respectable, to get access to resources from the government, it all makes me insane. There's some kind of undercurrent to everything that's like, if I talk to a human person in person I'm going to explode in private. And it can be panic attacks where I take it out on myself, or being cruel to people I care about, or so many other things, but there's an equal and opposite reaction to meeting people that causes this. I used to get so stressed visiting Zach (don't anymore, now it's a relief compared to Strangers) that I would spend the month after absolutely out of touch with the material plane of existence.
The unfortunate thing is the best solution I have right now is to lean into self directed panic attacks. It's the most effective way to manage things. If I spend the whole time panicking about that, there's no potential to direct it elsewhere. I'm going to have to start inducing one on purpose to get it out of my system after every scary interaction outside my house. And that's insane! It's insane. I'm tempted to not go out this weekend or ever again, frankly. I'm really scared of myself. I don't know how I could ever confuse someone I care about for something potentially dangerous to me, and I don't know why my brain reacts to people like a pathogen or something. I feel like I'm in one of those movies where someone is in a harmless situation acting like they're getting mauled because they're on a lot of drugs, or someone running through fun house mirrors, or getting sedated and confused about the doctors saying gibberish.
It's frightening that I feel like it would be super easy to get stuck in the insanity spiral again as I'm trying to untangle this. Thankfully, something reassuring is that this might just be the Enormity of a feeling I've successfully beaten back many times (fear of my parents), it was just so big it was hard to vanquish. I empathize a lot more with war veterans, I feel like I sort of get their whole . . . everything about stuff sometimes. For now I just know that home is safe, and everything else is Scary.
I am definitely taking a Lyft tomorrow to avoid going on the bus.
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Submissions from Schemes
As per your request I am publishing your submissions, Schemes. There's nothing this blog can do about the actions taken against your account. That was a decision made by staff - not me, or any of the users who posted here. Evidence posted on this blog has never before been used to ban anyone, so we can only logically assume that staff acted on other information. If you would like to explain that situation to us I will publish what you have to say.
My priority is Rescreatu. I'm honestly not that interested in anyone's character. I want to see Rescreatu thrive again. I want justice for the users who have been wrongfully banned. I want it to be a fair playing field, where everyone is held to the same rules and staff are accountable for their actions. I want to help staff restore the faith and trust users need to have in the site in order for it to be successful and fun again.
You have an opportunity here to change the narrative entirely. You could become a hero overnight if you chose to share what you know and expose what has been going on. You would most likely be listened to by Patrick, too, and could change Rescreatu for the better. I know for a fact you would find allies on staff as well, who are looking for someone who will step up and confront these issues. It's not too late and I will be your first ally if you choose to do the right thing.
As a side note, Tumblr does not give me access to the emails used for long submissions. I've also never published anything I've received in a DM without permission. I don't send harassing messages, it's not productive. I invited you to DM the blog because I wanted to give you a chance to discuss this before I posted what you wrote (which I genuinely feel will not give the impression to users that you hope it will).
Without further ado, here is what Schemes (as far as I know) has submitted to the blog, hopefully in order. I will not be compiling any other messages submitted like this in short format (it's too much work - please use the long submission form - I'm not censoring you, I'm just asking you to follow guidelines).
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heyaaaaa to my fans I'll make this perfectly clear, if my tu was taken because of something shady, I would have never publicly spoke about it on the SB and make myself look "bad" where I know everyone clocks my every movement and watches me like a tv show. you know I'm smarter than that atleast I'd hope so! Now that im not staff I can comment on this hate blog but my peace and happiness / mental health is worth more than trying to prove to people who have already decided they dislike me. bye now
PS as per my last post, if I REALLY did something bad EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN WIPED FROM MY ACCOUNT. just saying. and there's no way i would have been unbanned in 1 day. -schemes/khione. now I'm done I promise. And to those who have been defending me, thank you. I really am grateful
Schemes again, few months ago I wrote to you guys, and explained how my mental health was deteriorating and requested the removal of false and personal information about me etc. not sure if you guys did, but here we go again with this, baseless lies and bullying. I tried to [censored] myself over this blog. Now if I sue for emotional trauma I would be wrong right? Bc I have the means, professionals and the proof to do so. please don't say if it bothered so much to ignore the blog it's never that ez
I gave up the achromatic omni amongst other colored galta to try to make people see that I really was moving with geniune intentions. I now realize that was stupid and I should've kept them because y'all got something to say in a bad manner about me anyway. I should just get it back LOL. Not being staff any longer is such a relief I can now actually say stuff I feel
Unfortunately I don't have a tumblr account. If you don't want to post my truth and continue to make me look bad, and allow people to assassinate my character to control the narrative, just say that. Nor am I going to make a tumblr account just for this. Just keep in mind what I said on anon. - Schemes/Khione
I don't need to talk to my friends. My friends know my truth. But here's another truth, you're pathetic and a bully. Karma is real, so it's fine. You don't have to post what I said. I have a clear head, I just don't see why my posts won't be submitted. Why would I post a long submission, so you can have my email and harass me some more? No thanks. Like I said, if this continues I'll be taking legal action. I've been letting the bullying slide for too long. Take that however you want.
Maybe you need a break from this blog. You feed of the bullying of others and drama and the hate. Does it fuel you? I'll pray for you. obviously this is schemes again. I'm sure you'll post this though. Again, bc u want people to think I'm a horrible person. You pick and choose what to post, it's really sad. I think you're the one who needs to take a break from this blog. It's only going to ruin you.
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PS - I will resume posting your submissions this evening or tomorrow when I have time. I wanted to allow some time for everyone to catch up.
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Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 27 (NSFW)
Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad
Read Chapter twenty-six
Title: There is No Redemption
Words: 7.4K
Summary: Happy trail worship? Happy trail worship.
ST Rambles: Hello readers, I hope you enjoy this part. I am in my final semester for my ADN and cannot promise even monthly updates at this time. Please, please, please comment your thoughts because I don't want to produce content that is not enjoyable. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
[MASTERLIST] || BANNER / @elmidol
Stress enveloped your skull in throbbing pain, Karmen’s six-hour rundown stinging your senses and drawing you inward. Halfway through, you had already begun to feel the excess of information take its toll; Zag’s voice – unpleasant in small doses – grated into you, each word coming too fast and leaving too soon. Thankfully, no doubt to cover herself, she had left you with a thumb drive; it summarized everything she’d mentioned.
After the ordeal, when she left by the sharp click of her heels, you understood why it was recommended to arrive two days prior to the initial hearing: you were utterly and dreadfully exhausted. After unpacking – ensuring easy access to your favorite socks and keeping Snoke’s letter tucked into the back drawer of a desk – you had sat in bed for an hour trying to refresh with the thumb drive’s contents; you’d were determined to be prepared for tomorrow’s shift at Canto Bight’s recovery wing. If nothing else, you would not make a fool of yourself during your practice here. This you swore to yourself.
At some point you had drifted to sleep, waking to find your cheek stuck to the datapad that’d been propped up before you. The sunset woke you with a searing ray of light, screaming fuchsias and hazy purples warming your outstretched arm as they cast through open curtains. The breeze rolled off of the bay and tickled loose hair over your nape, a deep breath stretching your lungs awake before you unfurled from yourself.
The radar at your wrist indicated Kylo Ren was near but not in his quarters, probably not inside the building. It was a confusing feeling – the unsteadiness you felt when revisiting your earlier interaction, the vagueness of his words contradicted by the certainty in which they’d been delivered, but simultaneously this calm in your chest since you had left him. Although you had no idea what he’d gone on about, or what in time meant, his mere presence – the fact that he was near and would continue to be – allowed you these glimmers of peace.
Not since Starkiller. Not since Snoke. Not Mason and his baseless confidence, no matter how much you wished to latch onto it; not Talia, who had helped you back from your darkest moment. The only things that stilled you were the known proximity of your master, and the nature of the words he’d earlier spoken. You’d felt it that recent night on the Finalizer, how it lingered in your muscles just before you’d dozed off, how it seemed his presence had scared your nightmares away.
However ridiculous and backwards, Kylo Ren – the one whose pain is printed on your skin, who led a slaughter just strides away from you – had become a constant. It was never what you had expected, but when you thought of the trial now, what eased your nerves was nothing less than the raven-haired warrior whose face was slashed with midnight hues of pain.
Much like you, you’d come to realize, he had survived Starkiller, and the event changed him. Though you could not know for sure, you began to wonder if what had gone on had not only left him with the wounds that’d wet your skin, but perhaps ones that were deeper – ones that were not so visible. Something happened before that explosion, something more than whatever fight had earned him that scar.
You shook your head; this was too much to think on right now. With a throw draped over your back, you trudged through the room and out into the chill of your side-balcony. This sky held more beauty than any you’d ever seen; you watched the sun descend, spying a domed, octagonal pavilion at the far left of the side gardens. It dripped with violet-petaled ropes and emerald ivies, was supported by scalloped columns entwined with twinkling blooms welded from gold, the whole stage centered around a sunken fire pit.
Considering for a moment, you saw it would have a better view of the sunset, and you’d been cooped up since arriving. It was a quick decision, catching view of a spiral of stairs that led to the grounds, but only after noting the pair of doors a few paces left of your room’s. They were closed, and the inner curtains seemed to be shut, the room behind them dark. Empty.
No, Kylo Ren was not here, but – a thumb over your radar – he was not far. Somewhere off on his own business. Training, maybe. At least, that’s what you supposed kept you from traveling with him, the thought frustrating. Maybe – no, undoubtedly – he would never admit to it, never show it, but he was still recovering.
Ten days ago he was in a medically induced coma talking about someone named Ben and how he’s dead. Bacta works wonders, but it means nothing if a patient is noncompliant with post-operative restrictions, like swinging around a plasma sword for hours on end, or doing trial runs with the Force – which, although you knew little about, one could easily assume it put strain on the body.
Maybe you were wrong and your master was completely fine, maybe the Force aided in healing. No matter, you worried; for him, mostly, never forgetting how he appeared in that medbay, but also for yourself. It was clear that you cared for him – for fuck’s sake, when you thought you’d never see him again you wanted to tell him you loved him – and you knew his pursuits could very likely be the death of him. Stubborn as you might be to acknowledge it, so long as he was okay and not recklessly shredding through healed wounds, so long as he returned to you, you could rest somewhat soundly.
Hugging your blanket, tighter when the wind blew, you wandered down to the courtyard’s trim lawn, along the overflowing flowerbeds that brimmed with brilliant colors, until you met the few steps that led to the pavilion’s stage. Flames shocked you when you stepped onto the eight-sided base, your presence triggering a hidden system. The rectangular pit exploded into a rainbow of fire, thin veils of flames ascending elegantly into an ordered myriad. The pit was massive, consuming the base but for a few paces from each support.
Much like everything else, the pavilion was grand in size and decoration; the hearth’s hues danced along the draped flora, at least ten paces separating each gold-threaded pillar. Everything here was explicitly luxurious, so big and gorgeous. You wanted to settle into it, but it was temporary, and you would not know how fatal that fact was until it was too late.
Farther out, flames rippled over the bay; the sinking heat of the sun endeared your skin, the warmth at your back growing in distance as you gave in to the silent call of the scorching sky. First tracing the tip of one of the gold leaves woven to a pillar, admiring the detailed stems and ridges, you curled up against the column’s wide base. Head caressed by the smooth, cool stone, knees curled close to your chest, you were glamored by the water’s rhythmic sway, wondering if you would ever have the chance to feel it on your skin.
It took little effort to keep Karmen’s lecture from your thoughts, too lost to the burgundy of dusk that bloomed as the sun wilted toward the bay. A stillness surrounded you, and then you tuned into the chirping whispers of bugs that remained hidden with the fall of night. It did not bother you in the slightest, their distant songs a reminder of your life before the academy. A passing thought, fond amusement lazily humming in your chest – there are no crickets in space.
You remained folded against the pillar for some time, watching night creep over the city, more grateful for the heat on your back as warmth waned, the moon climbing higher with each lulling minute. The stone iced into your cheek. You went to leave, but your commlink buzzed at your waist, and you knew it would be wiser to keep this particular conversation outside.
Elbows to your knees, you ruffled a hand through your hair, closed your eyes, and answered Mason’s call. “How’s your day, McCarty?” There was no use in starting an argument if he had moved on from earlier.
“Probably better than yours, if I had to guess.” He sounded chipper. It was a relief.
“Well, what went on? Where’d you go? Who’d you see? What’d you eat?”
“I’ve really just been hanging out at the house since getting here. Caught a nap, which was nice. Soto sent me a transmission detailing updates on a few patients.”
He wasn’t hostile at all. Hopefully it meant he was done being weird. “I also got a nap. Which, agreed, is definitely nice. Especially after being kept in a room with Zag for six hours and trying to keep my head from exploding.”
“Six hours? With Zag? Are they trying to get you convicted of murder?”
You shared a laugh, scooting along the stone floor and peering up to the ceiling. It was tiled with mosaics, the fire’s vibrant colors reflecting off of it and shifting along the intricate designs. The view of the city was wider from this position, distant lights shimmering in windows that peered into whatever parties were undoubtedly happening.
“She isn’t that bad. It’s just her voice. And I barely have a handle on anything other than the fact that I have my first shift tomorrow, and then two days after that is the initial hearing. And I don’t even want to think about that to begin with, so…”
“Well,” he sighed your name, “I’ll be there. Bright and early, just like you. Wearing my second-best attire, saving the very best for the official trial, of course.”
“Jeez, that’s another thing, right? They fly us out here, put me up in some military-grade villa, but they give me nothing to wear, are aware that my residence just exploded on Starkiller, and then still say I can’t wear my uniform. I just find that a bit unfair. But that’s what I think, which we both know has not mattered since the very beginning of all this. I don’t even know why I expected anything different. I’ll just have to request transport to the shops or something. And then make credits appear out of thin air to pay for it.”
With notably increased enthusiasm Mason said, “Actually, I, uh, I was going through the house earlier and there’s actually a lot left over from my family’s recent trip. You’re free to come over and take some stuff back to your embassy if you want.”
“Alright, first – not my embassy, and if we’re calling it anything, I vote palace. Seriously—” you stared at a trellis that overflowed with wild blooms of every shade of red, the dead, fallen petals mocking you in the familiar way they pooled beneath. “—this place is too beautiful for any of the old businessmen who stay here. It’s actually ridiculous.”
“So it’s not homey, after all?”
A bellowing laugh came from the center of your chest, echoing up to the domed roof and into the growing dark. “No. No. Not homey. Not quaint. None of that. Just giant and spectacular.”
“Well, whatever it is, do you want to come over and grab some clothes?”
“Oh! Oh, yeah. That’s a lot better than spending credits I don’t have. Although maybe I’m worrying for nothing? Don’t they forgive your debt when you die, anyway?”
Mason did not laugh, did not even speak, and your amusement fell into alarm. An edge menaced along each pointed word when he spoke; “Maybe they’ll forgive your debt, but I won’t forgive you for dying.” He grunted in rejection. “You’re not dying, so I don’t know why we’re discussing this.”
Silence swallowed you both, and for a moment you could hear him trembling, hear the shakiness of his breath. A sharp exhale startled your hand from your ear. And then it was quiet again. He cleared his throat, and you noticed how thick it had become. Was he crying?
“Mason, you need to tell me what’s going on. And don’t say-,”
“Nothing is going on. It’s fine. We’re fine.”
“Funny, because when you say that, when you tell me we’re fine when I didn’t ask, it makes me think the exact opposite.”
He sighed, but at this point there was a good chance it was more exasperation or fuming than anything else. “I’m not having this conversation when I can’t see you.”
“Well, I’ll just turn my transmission on and we can-,”
“No.” Clipped, barked. Final.
It concaved your chest. Mason had never spoken to you like this. Your teeth scraped at your bottom lip. “Should I be worried?”
He paused. “No,” as it gritted through his teeth, your name was contoured with wisps of ire. An ounce less of restraint and whatever he was holding back would crack this hardened, taut façade.
The worst came to mind. All you could manage was a terrified whisper, “Are you revoking your seat to testify? Is that what this is about? Am I about – fuck – am I about to- I can’t lose you. I can’t-,”
“I told you. I told you I will be there.” Frosted fury swept through his following pause. His flat tone was laced with quiet hurt when he next said, “Do you really think I could do that to you? Leave you in the dust like that?”
“No. I guess not.”
“You guess not,” he thought aloud, a long drag of breath crackling into your ear. “I’m glad that you’re settled in, and… good luck during your shift tomorrow. You don’t need it, I know, but nonetheless.”
He was dismissing you. You hated it. “I’m not hanging up until I know we’re okay.”
“We’re okay,” he said simply, too fast. Mason cleared his throat. “Request transport for the morning after your shift. You can shop around the closets and after, we can order lunch and… and we can talk. About things. Everything.”
It was apparent he would not give anything more away, but you knew from his flat tone that whatever it was, was detrimental to him. Or you. Or both.
“Yeah. I’ll put in the request after shift tomorrow.”
Another long, aching silence. You listened to his breath, trying and failing at ignoring the knives in it. The line remained silent, the hanging static a backdrop to the hidden, harmless creatures humming in the night.
“I love you, Mason,” you prompted, teeth catching your trembling lips, time choking you with every halved second that trudged along.
It killed you, every inhale adding to the weight in your chest, every empty, wordless moment he spent cutting into you with a silent blade.
Another second and you turned back to the heightening tide of the bay, the clear night sky dying it a deep navy. Even as you tried to focus on the waves that foamed along the distant shore, there was no sound louder than Mason’s nonresponse.
“Goodnight,” Mason said, small, far enough away that it splintered through your heart like ice wedged through rock.
“Good-,” the line went dead, the static dying, a night-kissed wave crashing in your periphery, “-night.”
The iridescent veils of hearth rippled before you now, turning away from the seemingly infinite expanse of water. Even so, you shivered, and you were sure it had nothing to do with the weather. Tucking your commlink into your waist pocket, loosing a long-kept breath, you stood from the stone and clasped your blanket over your shoulders. With a final glance, chin to your shoulder, you appreciated the beauty of your first night here.
Whatever awaited you tomorrow, the next day, and in the weeks to come? It would remain. For now, just this one moment alone, you could pretend that everything was okay. Just for a moment.
A soft touch brushed your shoulder, but when you turned to meet whoever it belonged to, you found there was no one around. But a light caught your eye, one that had not been there before. Maybe that interruption to the dark captured your attention, but not at all was it what kept your gaze above the gardens.
Through the clear night, a breeze danced through the flora, glittering scarlet petals into the shadows. Above those dwindling rubies, leaning over the balcony’s curve, was Kylo Ren. Behind him, the golden light of his quarters caressed his back, small fragments draping over the sharp, toned muscles of his shoulders. He was staring down to you, his gaze laving along your figure, eyes those of a predator aware their prey was no match for them. The ever-heightening moon was all that lit his front, but it was enough. No, so much more than enough. Entrancing. Captivating. Beguiling.
Light cascaded along the taut strength of Kylo’s abdomen, his broad, thick chest emanating with the smooth white of the dusk’s sun. Once more, like it always did, the scar skating through his features kept your attention. From a distance it was less intrusive, but its presence sank your heart like the sun had wandered into the sea.
A whip of night air pushed his hair back to tease his ears, his head slightly cocking to the side when you found his eyes again. There was no color to them, none that you could see so far away, but you felt their heat slink along your lips, then your neck, over your chest, and lower still. When they claimed yours once more, they were sculpted with steadfast steel, strong and slithering, ordering your compliance to the smoking promises beyond.
Without noticing, that chill from earlier had left you, and you gathered the blanket so it hung from your forearm. Kylo held you with his eyes, the fire’s warmth falling away when you stepped off the platform and wandered, in leisure, down the steps and into the plush lawn. A dew was readying to form on the grass beneath your bare feet, the coolness welcome under his blazing attention. One step, two, another, and a final; small, shuffling, like you were hypnotized – truthfully, you could have been, but there was none but your own intent in the steps that carried you closer to him.
Only when he straightened to his full height, standing away from the balcony’s edge, did you halt your advance. He paused there, watching you, so gracefully still you were unsure of his breathing. From his new position you could no longer see his hands, but – you could feel them. A pressure along your cheek, your heart stammering at how its span so completely matched his own, and then around your throat, dizzying when it teased your carotids. Breath shivered from your slack mouth, catching when that – his – ghosted touch skimmed down your sternum and pushed into your rib cage.
Kylo made no sound, but when the night’s quiet scattered around your faint, gasped moan – feeling the whispered hands smooth over your hips, around the front of your thighs – you saw his jaw flutter, darkness and moonlight tangling when he gave you one final glance. The phantom touch left, a feline smirk flickered along his lips, and when his brows descended and veiled those deep, deep eyes, Kylo turned and sauntered out of sight.
But you understood his message, the silent one that only his body spoke, and you knew that his leaving was not goodnight, but an invitation. One you fully intended on accepting.
The trees swayed above you, the beds of perfectly spaced flowers blowing with the gentle breeze and combining with the sea behind to fill your head with the salty, fresh aroma of a Canto Bight night. Each step you took along the patterned grass shimmered anticipation through your veins, heady, wanton thoughts brimming in your mind.
The cold stone that marked the ground level’s patio shocked through you, wet crimson petals that had pooled below the trellis now clinging to the soles of your feet. You did not have time, or at least were desperate to not waste any, to pluck them off, allowing them to travel with you as you led them up the curved staircase. As you climbed the steps, you stole a fleeting glimpse of the bay; from this height the city’s nightlife sheened along the shore, a few private ships zooming above the skyline and carrying their passengers to events unknown to you.
Events that you could not have cared less about, not when you arrived to the second-level balcony, not when you saw the swaying curtain beyond Kylo Ren’s open, waiting door. No, those events meant nil, exceedingly so when you found the beginnings of a trail leading into his room, the first crumb that of pooled, discarded athletic pants.
Instant, overwhelming chills clamored about your skull, the blanket draped over your arm joining the black bottoms when your limbs went wobbly. Through the wind-swept gossamer you spied the second addition – one long, impossibly large, black sock – and when you came closer, the cool of night waning as you met the threshold, your heart thrummed louder at the nearing shaft of light that fled the refresher’s entrance.
Heated tiles warmed your first steps into Kylo’s room, the coquettish curtain kissing the tip of your nose before the door at your back locked shut in near silence. You brushed past the veil of fabric and took in your surroundings, quite different from what they were earlier. The golden rays of morning had since been overridden by soft panes of night, only the moon reflecting onto the light tile, not a single star to join it. The bed’s canopy remained shut, its thin sheets cascading around the bed so there was ample space to walk within its soft confines. And from that canopy, from the circular track above, bloomed delicate, mild light; it melted midway down the canopy, fading to nothing before it breeched the polished ivory below.
Another step and you noticed the trail of scarlet, dew-drop-covered petals you were leaving in your wake. On the step up from the bed’s level lay a second sock, so you padded to it, and tuned into the sound of heavy, rushing water that became louder as you delved further into the dimly lit room. This level was dark save for the glow of the open refresher; you followed that light like a lost vessel in space, hands trembling as you passed through the sitting area with soundless strides. Finally, as you’d calculated at the earlier bareness of his chest, you found the piece of clothing that signaled your final destination lying at your feet.
Atop the refresher’s threshold lay a pair of black boxer-briefs – unfolded, just as they’d appear fresh off the heated, muscled body from which they’d come. A smile played at your lips, remembering how the pair he’d so generously provided you the morning after you’d first slept next to him had hugged your hips with subtle compression. Those, unfortunately, were undoubtedly obliterated with everything else that had exploded with Starkiller.
Kylo Ren was nowhere within view, but running water tucked behind a corner to your left, and when steam swirled around an inlet that bordered a sleek, unbroken wall of ash-grey tile, your lungs lit with need, with want, your thoughts only focused on the body and man that waited for you just beyond view, just out of reach. Suddenly you became aware of how overdressed you were, so you turned to your right and found a mirror that ruled its own wall and plucked open the top button of your uniform.
The fogged silver expanse provided a blurred, softened outline of your near-bare body, scalding goosebumps scraping up your neck at the thought of Kylo’s slicked, dripping body. Hands hooked behind your back, you loosed your bra and smoothed the straps down the sides of your arms. And then all that covered you were the lack-luster panties the Finalizer had provided all those months ago, but they soon joined the small pile at your feet, leaving you naked and anticipatory and adamant.
Plopping your watch onto your clothes, you squared your shoulders, fixed your posture, and approached the heat of the hidden shower. Its warm embrace evoked such a calm through you, first loosening your shoulders, then steadying your breath.
Beyond the smoke hued barrier was a chamber of luxury, the water cascading from above like it came from an invisible storm cloud; its volume suggested a harsh pressure, but, stepping beneath the jets that seemed to span the entire stall, your skin was graced with the pleasant fall of a spring shower. Looking up, blinking through the misted warmth, you found the navy night sky peering down at you through the clear glass ceiling.
All light but that of the moon left the stall, and when your attention shifted down, you saw him through the sheets of water that kept you apart. The air was thick with fog and mist and night, but he remained the most devastatingly gorgeous person you’d ever seen, ever known. You needed him to be closer, you needed to be closer to him. No matter if you’d been with him those few nights ago, and though you’d spoken just hours ago, there was a tautness that tightened as your steps brought you to him.
Arms at his sides, stance strong and confident, Kylo Ren was a stride away from you, and you stopped. Inky black hair dripped down his neck, and his mouth was set in a flat, unreadable line, but all you could think of was how it felt you were seeing him for the first time all over again. He was different now, body scarred and worn from the passing of time. You did not stare at the red and black that had only been there for such a short time now. You appreciated it.
Kylo observed you, and a measure after your gaze followed the ebony ribbon rested in his countenance, you lifted a hand to it. He tensed and you caught his eyes, giving him a small nod before the very tip of your fourth finger kissed the start of his scar. You watched him, vaguely aware of your hand slipping along the marked path through his brow and down his cheek. Breath pushed from him in eased waves, his eyes danced between yours, and when you reached the line of his jaw and tapped your finger to the raised, pinking skin there, you closed your eyes and leaned up on your toes so you could press an aching kiss to it.
That tenseness that’d clanged into him at your touch was instantly gone, the heated streams above not a match to the stifling relief that fogged from his nares. So near to him, a second hand pushing through wetted, onyx locks, you remembered how he’d stared up at you on the Command Shuttle, how unreadable his expression was when his new scars had still been fresh wounds.
Your touch found the tail end of his healing flesh, and you swallowed down a thick, betraying sob. “Why did you believe me?” you whispered, not looking up to him. “When I told you I hated you and I wanted to quit. When I said,” you winced, “when I called you a bastard and said I wished I could forget you. Why didn’t you fight it longer?”
Kylo was quiet for a moment, body still but not reluctant to the steady meandering of your fingers. Something haunted him when he said, “Irredeemable bastard, if you’ve forgotten.”
“No,” your throat bobbed, “I haven’t. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day. Any, any part of it.” Looking up at him, you smoothed your hand over the scar settled into his shoulder. “After that morning, after everything, why did you believe me?”
“You were saying goodbye,” he murmured, like he’d mulled over that day time and time again and never considered the possibility. “Before Takodana. You knew. He’d gotten to you by then.” A note of betrayal sharpened his tongue, a snarl lighting when he referred to Snoke.
The hand that wasn’t tracing circles along his scarred muscles now toyed with his ear, the tip of your index finger molding to the curved pinnae. “Kylo,” just a breath, nearly drowned by the water ricocheting at your feet, “answer me. Please.”
Smooth, low, he began, “Because who could-,” he swallowed, considering you before starting over, “Because I’ve never known anyone who didn’t hate me. And I’ve always been a bastard. So when you said those things, after that morning, after you’d ran through Starkiller to tell me and kept saying them…”
Memories fluttered behind his eyes, and as their burning brown centered glittered against the navy night, you lifted your hand so you could hold his face, hold it like a parent would caress their child’s tear-sodden cheek. Kylo blinked back to you and you comforted the purpled skin beneath his eye.
He did not want to voice the answers you sought, but you watched as, piece by piece, you dented one of those walls he’d erected in that time-stained interrogation room. Perhaps it was a hopeful thought, but you swore you felt him ease into your hand.
“I stopped fighting because only a fool counters the truth of his life.” Kylo’s throat bobbed, his deep, shadowed gaze swallowing you whole. He caught your hand and led it flat along his broad chest, and then to the panes of his abdomen, placing it over the bruised, raised flesh of the scar you’d yet to explore. “I believed you because there was no reason to doubt you.”
The showering heat from above shielded that which was blurring your vision. He believed you because he believed those things of himself. After seeing him wear so many masks, physical or phantom, you saw it in his eyes that he still thought those things and had for his entire life.
And then it made sense, and the realization dragged jagged, thorn-wrapped talons through your heart. You whispered through the water, wondering if you were speaking only for yourself when you said, “That’s why you didn’t look inside my head. You didn’t think it would show you anything different. You didn’t think I could ever feel differently.”
You ran your thumb along the uneven ridge of the scar forming over his side and tucked your other arm around his waist. With the force that kept moons anchored to their planets, you pulled him in and nestled into the notch of his breastbone.
Through your teeth, “You are not a bastard. Or irredeemable,” your fingers dipped to the center of the healing tissue, “I’ve learned that we make the choices we think are best, and if that’s true, if I believe it? What do either of us have to be redeemed for?”
Kylo said your name, clear as the night that loomed overhead, and a patient finger tipped your chin up. “Nothing. Because there is no redemption for those who do not want it.”
Intensity hardened his face, and once more you felt that sense of equality between him and you. Long fingers smoothed into your drenched hair, and you found a prompt in his brow. Sighing, lungs stuttering, you asked, “What, then, if not redemption?”
The hand that he’d set over yours shifted to your hip, thick fingers prodding at your flesh. Kylo’s touch left your chin and the pad of his thumb rolled over the faint scar that cut into your hairline, a twinge of pain lighting at the memory of its origin; it had healed days ago, but you would never forget the sound of it cracking open when Robbie knocked your skull against the durasteel door.
Kylo stopped musing when he heard you wince, his eyes meeting yours in a stark, unwavering gaze. He smoothed over the blight a final time and proceeded to skate his fingers along your jaw, his thumb coming to rest over your bottom lip. Similar to this morning, yet colder and with a quiet fury breathing beyond his eyes, he looked at you with solidarity.
Calm, sure, adamant, Kylo said, “Retribution.”
A moment to process was spent in his gaze, studying how unbreakable it was, swimming in the shadowed hazel that poured into you. Kylo’s eyes flicked to your lips, and before he could look away, you leaned up so you could reach his own. The swirled hair at his nape slithered through your fingers when you swept you hand from his abdomen and up his torso. Massive, enveloping hands trailed praise along your body until they were mirrored under your breasts.
Exploring his skin, your fingers took residence over the small of his back, digging red trails along the slick surface. You moaned into Kylo’s mouth when a capable hand claimed your supple chest and kneaded into you. He growled in response, a predatory sound that rippled through your nerves and tightened deep, deep in your belly. The pliant pads of his thumbs circled your nipples, the very tips of his nails flicking upward before he added his forefingers and pinched the sensitive peaks to his will.
Kylo mouthed the hinge of your jaw, the bridge of his nose slipping along the bone until you surrendered your neck to him. He hummed against your artery, sucking away the beaded moisture that’d collected for the past few minutes – or had it been hours? Time evaded you further when the schemes of his tongue at your throat delved deeper, revealed themselves further when he laved at your clavicle, shifting between kissing and biting and marking as he made his way to your breastbone.
His muscled back flexed as your fingers routed to his front, dipping low until you found the haze of soft, wet hair that grew from his pelvis. Kylo continued his endeavors and pulled you in by the curve of your back so he could bare your chest to him and run his nose under the base of your breast. His need for your body was evident in the way he bent you to his will, cradling your back so he could have you, but also permitting a sense of safety in the relentless strength that flowed from his forearms through to your marrow.
Near limp in his hold, you tread your fingers down his pelvis and savored the feel of that patch of hair, feeling his pulse beat beneath it, reveling how water collected and fled in such a slow, teasing manner. His chest was to yours, so you felt, rather than heard, the pleasure vibrate from him, deepening when you grazed the very foundations of his hardening shaft. He breathed into your skin, mouthing at your breast and sucking painful paths as he went. The heat of his mouth melded around your nipple, and he bit, and even when you winced and writhed with satisfied hurt, Kylo kept on; not until you were sure he’d drawn blood did his teeth – their unique ridges now throbbing into your breast – leave you, replaced by the salve of his plush, scorching lips. The body of his tongue was structured with adamant, laving over your pebbled peak until poems of pleasure groaned from the depths of your chest.
He leaned you back up and shifted his attention to the remaining half of your body, but you needed him just as much, and you wanted to litter his body with the same pleasure he’d given yours. So, snaking your hands to his jaw, you kissed the hinge opposite to his scar and pecked harder and longer, sucking at his skin like the blood that bruised would grant you eternal life. Falling to your knees in a steady, unrushed descent, you kissed every inch of his abdomen, every bump and ripple of skin that was present around the mending injury. With eyes peering up, hands cherishing the fronts of his thighs, you tongued the scarred tissue and watched him shutter with ecstasy, eyes half-lolling, mouth slackening for a second before he swallowed down whatever satisfaction would have left him.
You teethed at the soft, raised skin, watching him, content when a guiding hand pet down your slick hair. Shifting to his middle, you hummed from one hip bone to the next, feeling the tickle of hair that fled from his naval and dispersed in an even, thick layer of black atop his pubis. Hunger ravaged your throat and you nuzzled into the soft bed of obsidian hair. A kiss to it, then a nip, and then the tip of your nose swirled around the dark patch, his cock twitching at the side of your face.
Anchoring your eyes to his yet again, you dragged the flat of your tongue through the maintained, drenched hair and pushed both your hands along his inner thighs. The muscles beneath your touch sang, streamed just as fluidly as the droplets that were trickling down your spine. Pulling away from him, you faced his cock and observed how it bobbed with your eyes on it, watched it strain for friction when your hands teased both sides of his base, sifting through the dark curls beneath.
The moonlight painted his shaft with subtle, breathtaking contours – a shadow cast under the spongey ridge of his head, light glinting off the misted moisture that’d caught on his flushed shaft. Each prominent vein cast a winding whisper of darkness just a measure from the next. It hypnotized you, the way they overlapped and crossed at points, bulging out from his cock and shifting with each throbbing pulse of blood that clamored through him.
Curious fingers flitted along the heavy, hot column of flesh, tapping it and listening to the thickening breath from the man watching you through ravenous eyes. A smirk curved your mouth, and you peppered a light, whispered kiss to his slit, pushing his cockhead just so it met your teeth, and leading your lips away so the teasing burned through him. You pulled a hand away from his leg and sat back on your calves, taking a breast into it and kneading as he had before, plucking your nipple through each space between your fingers.
“A teasing little whore tonight,” he purred, voice thick.
You hummed, pleased you were getting to him. “I’m your little nurse, remember?” The tip of your tongue teased circles into his frenulum. “And you are my master. Isn’t that right? Master Ren?” Fuck, the title even got to you, cunt fluttering with the hope to be overflowing with him.
“Good girl, teasing whore, nasty slut? Little nurse? You have so many names now.”
“And all of them belong to you.”
You teased his tip and finally laved a flat tongue on the underside of his shaft, flicking it side to side and gripping into his structured, rippling thighs. Something animal, completely primal, roared in his throat, and sooner than you knew, Kylo Ren had joined you on your knees, the weight of his cock slicking down your middle and slapping up to your slit when inertia bounced through it.
A masterful tongue slipped into your mouth and licked your hard pallet, next dropping down and pushing against the side of your own tongue. A muffled moan – one that you were unsure was his or yours or both – clouded through the shower’s downfall. But then a throat-thick huff, aggressive and impatient, gnarled through the air and you were spun on your knees so your back was flush with his chest.
“Yes,” he rumbled, “they do all belong to me.” A possessive hand pushed you into him with might, taking residence in the valley of your breasts. “Your names, your body. Everything.” His hips canted, and the tip of his cock knocked against your clit, fire billowing in your belly, quicker and deeper now.
“Everything,” you echoed, finding his free hand and guiding it so it lay over the permanence etched into your thigh. “I’m- everything. It’s yours. I am yours.”
Unrelenting digits bruised more marks around the one he’d made prior, and when you felt his cock fall in line with your entrance, you thrust into him as he did the same, and you took all of him, at once, in one, fluid, aching motion. An unabashed cry echoed euphoria throughout the moonlit stall. Before you could fully recover from the first thrust, his hand – the free hand that didn’t remain under your own, clutched to your thigh – dipped into your folds and that blooming fire from earlier mushroomed at the graze of his thick digits against the buzzing nerves.
Thrust after thrust after thrust, fucking into you and filling you to the brim and then some each time, knocking the air from your lungs and burgeoning those sweet spots within with each paced, violent pass. All of that pressure combined with the winding circles and strokes he racked your clit with, you felt the breath of climax rise first in your chest, and then upward into your throat.
Kylo was panting by your ear, sucking the skin behind, clutching you to him so it became uncertain where his body ended and yours began. You hooked your arm above your head and clutched at his drenched tresses, flailing for a better grip and settling on clasping your hand onto the back of his neck.
“I feel you,” he groaned.
“Feel me,” you huffed.
“I know you.”
“know me.”
“You’re mine,” your name was laden with yearning claim, lilting from his tongue so it caressed your mind, body, and soul all in one fell swoop.
“Yours,” you heaved, “all, yours.”
You came. Simple. Body swimming in the schemes his fingers and cock and tongue and voice forced into you until it became too much. A few thrusts more and his pace faltered, cum spurting against your walls and dripping out of you as more and more left him. Full lips pressed fleeting, lulling praise into your nape, your shoulder, until he angled your head to his and branded his lips to yours.
Spent, emotionally and physically, you fell into him and enjoyed the image of his legs framing your own. But then your eyes lolled shut and you simply breathed, settling into this moment as best you could, and tried to memorize the tide of his chest slicking against your back.
Barely aware in the vague, misty stall, you only realized that Kylo had begun cleaning you when he guided you back to your feet to rinse you free of soap. Even then you just leaned into his chest and let the jets spray silken streams down your skin. And then you were wrapped in a heated towel and cradled in his arms, leaving the steamy refresher and coming into the gentle atmosphere within the golden gossamer canopy.
With less than a word, maybe a breath, the light from above waned to nothingness, and the room was black save for the glinting eyes that studied your own. The towel discarded to the floor, you now lay beneath the thick comforter and linen sheets of Kylo Ren’s bed. Both naked, you huddled together in the center of the expansive mattress, legs wrapped together in an impossible knot, each breathing in the other’s warmth.
Ease trickled into your muscles, and you shifted so your forehead could rest in the heat of his chest.
“What changed? From the other night?” you yawned. “What convinced you? About Snoke.”
He was tired, too, you knew, the hand tucking you into him tracing lazy, distracting circles into your back to keep him from sleep. “Perspective, really. Seeing things clearly for the first time in… Seeing things clearly.”
For now, fatigue caressing you, that was an answer you could accept. He’d given you more of his mind tonight than ever before, and you did not care to mar that fact with a half-wit interrogation. Perhaps you would listen to him this time, given how little you potentially had left, and do as he’d said this morning.
Trust me first.
It was sound advice, and not worth questioning on the eve of your first shift on Canto Bight. So you nuzzled into him and giggled when the tip of your nose nudged that black healing ribbon over his collar bone.
“I like your scars,” you hummed.
You could not be certain, sleep plunging you into its riptide, but just before it pulled you under, you swore you heard the fatigued rumble of Kylo Ren’s voice whisper, “I like yours too.”
#keeping your promise#st kyp#kylo ren#kylo ren fanfic#kylo ren imagine#kylo ren x reader#kylo ren x you#kylo ren smut#angst#fluff#ao3#wattpad
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1500k Commission [Uchiha Obito / Fem Reader] @obitobrigade
🌹My Ko-Fi page [Commissions are open!]
Obito x Coffy NSFW baking chocolate chip cookies at home. *coffy is a thick thighs/ booty girl, nerdy, wears glasses, freckles... *
[Drawing by @obitobrigade TO USE IT ASK HER PERMISSION, IT IS HER CREATION, DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION!]
Under the rain, Obito runs, trying to take shelter under every roof or balcony he finds to avoid the icy water falling from the sky. Of course, he doesn't carry an umbrella, he always thought he was too cool for such things, although at times like these he regrets it.
He bumps into several people before managing to stop at the door of a shop, with his jacket soaked and his jeans completely wet. Frustrated and grumbling, he reaches into the pocket of his tight trousers and looks for the paper you gave him before leaving.
The note is ruined, breaking because of the humidity and with the ink dripping on its surface.
"How am I supposed to know what ingredients to buy now? How were those cookies made? She's going to kill me..."
Slapping his face, he grunts, scolding himself before the grey panorama of the city. He has only fifteen minutes before the shops start closing, and he doesn't even remember what he had to take home.
Of course, his pride is too great to return empty-handed, that is why, angry and motivated not to disappoint you, he sets off again, adjusting the hood of his jacket over his head and running to his destination, avoiding pedestrians.
Eventually he arrived at the supermarket where the shopping was usually done, with about 10 minutes left before the doors closed. In desperation, he did not hesitate and entered like a hurricane, leaving a trail of water behind him on the dry floor. His panicked face prevented anyone from daring to tell him anything, and with a hasty pace but without being able to trot, he headed for the first shelf he found, without even knowing what he was looking for.
Fortunately, there was an employee there, a young man with brown hair and red marks on his face. The teenager smelled like a dog, as if he hadn't bathed for days, but that would have to be enough. Although being a shy person, someone who hates unnecessary contact or interactions, Obito was forced to approach and talk to him, being his last chance to achieve his goal.
The boy was placing products in their respective places, with headphones and chewing gum noisily, when the Uchiha touched his shoulder and scared him.
"WHAT THE FUCK MAN?! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW TO KNOCK?!"
"What the...? Never mind. Kid, I need your help."
"Why do you think I'm wearing this stupid uniform, old man?"
"You little piece of shit, tell me what ingredients I need to make chocolate chip cookies."
"Nothing is free in life, you know? I have to buy food for my dog, I have to pay for my food, I have to..."
Taking money out of his wet pocket, Obito cursed the teenager lowly, who smiled smugly at having won the hand.
"Take it and shut up. Tell me what I need or I'll wait for you outside until your shift is over.
"Don't you have a nursing home to go back to? This way, I'll share with you the recipe my mom uses."
After getting what was needed according to that child, Obito left the shop with a bag of groceries, hoping to have bought what was needed and not to disappoint you when he got home.
Running again in the rain, the trip to your flat was much quicker. His anxiety to get there and be dry, warm and comfortable next to you was too much. Until he remembered that he might have picked up the wrong ingredients and wanted the earth to swallow him up.
His intengrity as Uchiha was at stake.
The Uchihas never make mistakes, that is the first basic rule of the clan.
Arriving at the door, he used the key that you had given him some time ago to enter, being grateful not to feel the cold of the wind and water on his soaked body. He made his way to the elevator and headed to your floor, finding your entrance quickly and getting in without announcing himself.
But of course you were there to welcome him.
"Obi, you really should have taken an umbrella... it's not such a big deal you know?
" Over my dead body [Y/N], none of that.
"You're soaked! There's not a part of your clothes that doesn't drip with water! Go to the bathroom and take a hot shower please, I don't want you to get sick"
Removing the grocery bag from his hand and closing the door, you pushed him into the bathroom, leaving him to take care of himself. Being that you had been together for some time, it was usual to find his clothes among your things, so it was not strange to get a change of underwear and a pair of trousers. No luck with the shirt.
It took him a while to finish, as the warm feeling on his body after being mistreated by the frost was like paradise. When he came out, you offered him the clothes you had available, and although you also gave him the option of a sweater he didn't want to accept it, remaining without a shirt and with his chest in the air.
His heart stopped when you opened the bag and started to take out the ingredients, placing them on the kitchen table and putting on the cooking apron. But by not telling him anything, by not reproaching him for bringing the wrong flour, the wrong milk, how bad the butter was, his body began to relax. Staying by your side, he observed your features as you started to work, your dark hair falling on your shoulders and its beautiful volume, your freckles hidden under your glasses, your hips embraced beautifully by your trousers.
His eyes were feasting when your voice woke him up.
"Come on sir, you have to help me, no looking!”
"Yes, ma'am!"
Both put hands to work, and Obito's concentration managed to last a short time in the work he was doing, before getting lost again in your figure, in your profile, in your thighs, in how easily you managed to make him laugh just by smiling.
Your presence was light in his life, and nobody could replicate it.
Positioning himself behind you, he put his hands back on the kitchen table, working again while his bare chest was stuck behind your back and his waist was pressed against your butt.
When his member found that cozy space between your rear, his hands completely forgot what to do with the cookies, and you found no reason to complain. His movements were soft and gentle, his hips swayed from side to side, letting you feel his cock getting harder and harder just by touching you over your clothes, and his abs acted as support for your body when you needed to lean back.
"Don't stop working, I want to eat those today.”
"But you did stop working...”
"I'm about to work on another cookie, if you know what I mean...”
Kneeling on the floor, Obito lowered your trousers and underwear, exposing your pussy which was beginning to get wet without shame. Almost like a hungry man, he held your buttocks with both hands and opened your butt, gaining access and sliding his tongue from your clitoris to your ass. He brought his warm, strong muscle back into your cunt, delivering rapid, continuous movements to your sensitive pearl while two of his fingers reached inside you and began an intense motion.
It didn't take him long to get your body to build up that wonderful discharge, pounding his digits to the right spot while with his other hand he lowered his own clothes and began to masturbate on the floor from the arousal. Overwhelmed by the sensations of pleasure and the moaning that your man was generating inside you, it was impossible for you to even remember that you were cooking, holding strongly with both hands on the kitchen table while your orgasm was furiously approaching.
Once you reached your climax, he stood up, hitting your buttocks with his hard, erect length, letting you know he madly needed to be inside you. Holding your waist, he bent his knees and positioned his tip in your humping hole, guiding himself into your canal slowly, enjoying how his skin was stretched back by the friction.
One of his hands slipped along the side of your body, dirtying your clothes with kitchen ingredients and grabbing you by the neck, exerting a gentle pressure, just the way you like it. With his mouth in your ear, his movements began, while his mind was too clouded with pleasure to even formulate words.
Deep breaths escaped from his chest as the sound of skin against skin filled the kitchen, and your screams made him feel as if he were being pushed by a rush of vertigo and pure pleasure.
The way your warm pussy milked his cock felt like a dream, a wonderful moment that he wanted to last forever, but eventually, his climax attacked him, thanks also to his previous masturbation, being accompanied by your second orgasm.
#uchiha obito x reader#obito uchiha x reader#obito x reader#obito uchiha#uchiha obito#obito#naruto shippuden#naruto imagines#naruto x reader#commission#ko-fi
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Imagine # 598
Gifs NOT mine. (Found on Pinterest.)
If either gif is yours please let me know, so I can give you credit.
Gif credit goes to - Unknown.
Year posted - 2020
Words - 1,180
*Note this is set in a au where you feel every pain your soulmate feels, up until you meet. In this instance the reader suffers from every blow Superman takes, even when it doesn't hurt him. But because Superman is well Superman he doesn't feel her pain, therefore he assumes he has no soulmate.
----
---(Y/n)'s pov---
With a growl I pulled out my pistols and shot at the Bat. "You've just got to ruin EVERYTHING!" I yelled firing off my last rounds. "Looks like you're out." Batman said before punching me in the face, splitting open my lip. "Oh this will be fun." I snickered dodging his fists. "Not for long." The Bat scowled a he kicked me in the chest, knocking me on my ass. "Where's your brother now?" Batman sassed as he cuffed my hands behind my back. "Exactly where he needs to be." I smirked as an explosion went off in downtown Gotham. "You planed this." Batman pointed out as he looked towards the cloud of smoke. "You caught me, I lied. You didn't ruin anything at all Batsy, you did exactly what you were supposed to do." I laughed like a mad woman, throwing my head back for effect. "Now you've got a choice to make Batman. Take me in to Arkham, or save the civilians from my brother. Tick tock Batsy tick tock." I giggled as I slowly scooted my way back to the ledge of the roof. "How do I know there are civilians down there?" He growled glancing back at me. "Do you really think my brother would go through all that effort without civilians?" I arched a taunting brow, smirking when he turned away from me. "I'll take my chances." He concluded as he stalked towards me, making me growl in annoyance. "Then you're a fool Batsy." I spat in his face as he pulled me up from the ground, throwing me over his shoulder without thought.
---Four days later---
---Third person pov---
Commissioner Gordon sighed to himself as he waited patiently under the Bat signal. "Gordon." Batman muttered as he reached the rooftop, maintaining eye contact when Gordon faced him. "You need to go to Arkham." The Commissioner spoke without hesitation, knowing better than to skirt around the problem. "What's happened?" Batman questioned as he approached his longtime friend. "(Y/n)." Was all Gordon said before walking to the roof access door. "She broke out?" Batman questioned further. "No... Something... Something is wrong with her." Gordon hesitated this time. "That much is obvious." Batman held back a sigh. "You need to see her, trust me... You're going to want to see her." Gordon urged nodding to himself, when he heard the tell tail sound of Batman's cape as he fled the roof.
---At Arkham---
After slipping passed Arkhams security Batman made his way to the medical wing. Having hacked into Arkhams mainframe, and finding out where she was being held. As quickly and quietly as he could he knocked the vent grate off, slipping into the medical wing. Finding (Y/n) rather quickly, since she was the only patient in the medical wing. "What the hell?" Batman muttered to himself at the sight of the exclusively massive bruises scattered across her pale skin. "Alfred." Batman muttered into his tech, his trusty Butler answering rather quickly. "Yes master Bruce?" His voice was as prim and proper as always. "Find out if (Y/n) was in a fight recently, or if she was anywhere near Bane, or Killer Crock." Batman instructed as he took photos of her bruises. "(Y/n) as in Jokers sister?" Alfred asked as the photos were being loaded onto the Batcaves research systems. "Yes." Batman muttered as he scanned her body for any broken bones. "Oh my." Alfred gasped to himself quietly as the photos loaded onto the screens. "Master Bruce, it says (Y/n) was in isolation. And her nurse found her near death in a far corner of her cell last night." Alfred was bewildered with the report, at a loss of what could have happened to her. "Alfred get the medical bay prepped, I'm bringing (Y/n) in." Batman concluded, as he injected her with an antistatic. "Master Bruce?" Alfred frowned to himself. "The only way this could have happened to her, would be if her soulmate was hurt. And there is only one person that could survive such extreme damage. Get Clark to the house, we need to talk." Batman instructed as he began searching for an exit route, he could safely get (Y/n) out of Arkham.
---Some time later---
"Bruce what's going on? Alfred said you had something important you needed to talk about." Clark frowned a little as Bruce waved for Clark to follow him to the Batcave. "Were you in a fight yesterday?" Bruce asked as the elevator doors closed. "Yes I was." Clark nodded his head. "That's what I was afraid of." Bruce sighed as the doors opened. "Why?" Clark urged as he followed Bruce, becoming distracted by the woman within the medical bay. "Who's this?" Clark's frown deepened as he circled the unconscious woman, taking her injuries into account. His heart hammering in his chest simply being in her presence. “This is (Y/n), the Jokers sister. And I think you know why I brought you here.” Bruce sighed under his breath. “She’s... she’s my soulmate isn’t she?” Clark hesitated already knowing the answer. “She’s suffered wounds like these time and time again. Nearly dying from wounds that were simply minor to you.” Bruce sighed again pulling up her medical history to show Clark. “She’s been driven mad by the pain, she and the Joker don't even share blood relation." Bruce spoke softly, watching as Clark reached out to touch her leg. As soon as their skin touched (Y/n)'s eyes snapped open, and her breathing became heavy, her eyes glossing over. "Where am I?" She whimpered as she took in her surroundings. "Calm down it's alright." Bruce tried calming her. "Please I'm in so much pain, please take the pain away." She cried making Clint's heart shatter. "(Y/n) I'm hear now it's alright." Clark whispered taking her face between his hands, looking deeply into her eyes. "You." She sighed as her wounds slowly began to fade away. "I am so so sorry, I didn't think I had a soulmate. You have been suffering for so long, and it's all my fault." Clint whispered as a stray tear rolled down his cheek. "But I'm here now, and I will protect you at all costs." He added smiling through his tears.
"She's still a criminal." Bruce argued as he and Clark stood just outside of the medical bay. "She's my soulmate, I have to be with her." Clark growled. "She's killed people, robbed banks, reeked havoc all across Gotham with her brother. She's a danger to others." Bruce nearly hollered, trying his damnedest to keep quiet. "You're not going to stop me from taking her." Clark's voice was dark and serious, making Bruce swallow his next argument. "If anyone finds out about her, you'll be ruined." Bruce warned before leaving Clark in a huff of anger. "No one ever needs to know about her, she is mine and mine alone." Clark muttered under his breath, before turning back into the medical bay, eager to help and protect her.
#imagine#gif imagine#dc imagine#dc#superman#superman x reader#superman x y/n#superman imagine#soulmate au#clark kent x y/n#clark kent x reader#clark kent x you#clark kent imagine#clark kent#batman imagine#batman#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne#joker imagine#joker#extended
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☆ Waah, my French account from Eldarya Beta 2014 is now gone. :( ☆
It was a really special gift that I'm still touched to have recieved back then. I had kept up with it until the amount of points needed for participation in guards for the monthly items went up, and then even more so with crafting, but stiiill. :<
I did also spend an astounding amount of money on that version, most probably more than my US account, since it is older.
Thing is, other than the fact I'm oddly fixated on old registration times and collectables and archival stuff, geeky things... despite that, this has been kind of nice and fresh.
I dunno if it's because I've been through a lot of loss and I'm older now, but I'm kind of in the camp of 'now I can keep things a bit cleaner', I can get items that I wanted in the past and missed. Familiars, monthly items.
I haven't even used much more than the first 100k ancient coins for items I really actually like and same with familiars. My old familiars will be missed, and like a dearly departed friend, I will always remember them, but... I'm oddly okay.
The memories I had from how excited I was when each new thing and event are still there, though relatively fuzzy. I am sad I can't seem to find at least a screenshot of my old profile, but it just doesn't hurt like I know it would have a few years ago. I dunno if that's actually a sad thing, but it's kind of a relief that I'm not as devastated as I would have been.
Sadly, someday these games will come to an end, but for now I feel supremely grateful for this generous chance to start fresh and rebuild my account on FR, I guess. I mean, don't get me wrong, it would have been better to have access to my old account, but I'm really pretty grateful for this chance. I was getting pretty stressed out over having to feed my pet everyday, especially knowing the amount I participated would no longer place me in the chance to win the monthly item if my guard won. Now that that has been disabled and everything feels refreshed, I feel like I can maybe give a shot at returning to the game with a healthier mindset. I used to feel the need to complete all the yearly events, get the illustrations, and the eggs, but after stepping back, I was able to remove the stranglehold the game had over me. That's just me, though.
I bought a lot of items though and kinda "aged up" my guardian. I think it turned out really nice! I was able to get a lot of items I missed out on and older ones I got back in the day that I still wanted as much as when I first saw them.
It's ghost Puku! Reborn from the ashes like a Phoenix!
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This isn’t What I Wanted: Chapter 1-Arrival
Summary:
Waking up in a hospital is always alarming, waking up in Hope County Hospital is terrifying. Suddenly thrust into a body that isn't hers and knowing nuclear fallout is on the horizon. Adaine must gather supplies while she can before the big day happens, and trying to stay clear of a radical cult is easier said than done.
Hi and thank you for clicking! I'm very nervous to be writing again, I haven't written fanticion since 2013. So please be patient with me if things don't seem right or if there are mistakes. I hope you enjoy reading!
Also, I do know there is no real hospital in Hope County, but I’ve based this in Faith’s region near the jail.
FInd the story also on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543036/chapters/61978045#workskin
TW: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Death, Description of dying, Car crash, Slight body Dysphoria.
Her name is Adaine. She loves her mom, likes animals and gardening, hasn’t found a real spot in life to settle into, and relaxes with a good game night with her friends.
(Adaine dies but at the same time she doesn’t. Nothing could have prepared her for this. Nothing in the world.)
_______________________________________________
Blearily waking to the sounds of quiet machines, voices murmuring faintly out of ear shot, and faint alarms going off in the distance. Her thoughts were slow, her whole being ached with a dull pain. Opening her sleep crusted eyes to a hospital room was surprising, given she knew the probability of her surviving a 50 foot drop off was astronomically low. But she needed answers, ‘How did you find me? Is my family coming? Where am I?’ Reaching for the call button was painful, but so worth the relief of seeing another person.
_______________________________________________
Adaine had been out for 3 days, massive head trauma, a cracked rib and a broken foot. The Doctor had joked that she was lucky to survive the crash, but she didn’t survive a car crash. Last thing Adaine remembers was hiking and taking a tumble down a drop off, explaining this too the staff was met with gentle pitying tones of “Oh honey, your mind is blocking out the crash, it was a traumatic accident.”
But it was all wrong, she had gone for a nice day walk on the Appalachian Trail in Kentucky and taken a nasty fall. How she ended up in bumfuck Montana after a car crash was nerve wracking. The staff had at least managed to get her phone, but everything in her phone was wrong. Her mother’s number was wrong, she didn’t have her best friend's contact info and all of her pictures told a different life than the one she led. Her social media timeline was off, her job wasn’t her job. Her mother’s number didn’t work. Having a major panic attack made the doctors take her phone rights away, sighting it was “detrimental to her health for the time being, we should focus on rehab for now.”
Being stuck in a hospital for weeks was awful. The food was bland, the local accents were different, she didn’t have anyone here. She felt as though she was in a horror movie, when she looked in the mirror something was just off; her hair was longer, the mole she’s had all her life was gone. She was missing scars or the scars had simply moved a inch or so in another way. She had a million questions and no answers, ‘Where did the old Adaine go? Had her and her counterpart swap bodies? Why was this Adaine going to Montana?
When she tried contacting her family there was no answer and when she tried with friends, most claimed they had only met once or had never known her. The loneliness of the situation finally hit, Adaine didn’t get a good night's sleep for the rest of that week.
_____________________________________________________________
Adaine had finally found the reason the old Adaine was in Montana. Apparently her great aunt had died and left her property and possessions to Adaine, the only family member she deemed “Smart enough to know what was really going on”. Whatever the fuck that meant. But, she felt a spark of love when she thought about the old woman, either from the old Adaine’s consciousness or the gratefulness she felt because this meant she wasn’t homeless and had a source of income for the time being. The property was 40 acres which had a house, river access at the back of the property, and a fallout bunker. Adaine felt a great sense of loss looking over the paperwork sent to her by her great aunt’s lawyer.
Hospital got marginally a little better every Friday, a small group from a local church would drop by and bring well wishes to those who were sick, and most importantly for Adaine, a chance of company. Adaine sometimes invited them in, but other times the thought of company was too overwhelming. She even met the Pastor of the church, Jerome Jeffries, a nice man who sat with her and talked about his own experiences in the hospital. However, every time he left, Adaine had a small voice ringing in her head.
You know him
_____________________________________________________________
Adaine could have jumped for joy, if she didn’t have boot on her foot, when she was cleared to leave the hospital. On the count she didn’t currently have a vehicle or that there wasn't any taxi service in such a rural area, Pastor Jeffries had offered to drive her to her new home.
“Pastor, I honestly can’t thank you enough.” Her voice breaking the quiet interior of the old pick up truck. She’s so nervous and excited, her stomach now housed butterflies and her heart had moved to her throat. Peering into the bed of the truck, where her measly belongings that survived the crash were stashed, she looked back at the normally soft spoken man driving.
Turning his expressive dark eyes to glance at her for a brief moment before he spoke, “Think nothing of it Adaine, I’m always happy to lend a hand to those in need.” His lips turned into a warm comforting smile, but warmth of the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hands tightened on the worn steering wheel, before relaxing once more. Feeling as though she had misspoke or had bothered him, she turned her head to look out the window. She could understand why her great aunt had moved out here, it was beautiful. Tall evergreen trees covered the landscape, roaming hills and valleys that were cut by crystal clear water of slow rolling rivers. She rested her head against the glass and let her mind wander.
_____________________________________________________________
Her thoughts were broken when Pastor Jeffries spoke, “I’m sorry for your loss, I personally didn’t know your Aunt very well. Most folks who live up here tend to keep to themselves, hell I’m pretty sure there’s a good chance that i’ll never meet 15% of the population who lives here.” He waved at a passing car on the small dirt road they had taken, his attention once again back on Adaine. “Do you plan on living here? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“No I don’t mind, I’m planning on staying here for a while at least. I’ve got to clean the house and the bunker before I’ll make a decision.” He nodded and hummed in understanding, before gesturing to her broken foot.
“That's going to be a problem for you, I can give you a number to call for some help. He’s a good kid, his family is-was part of my congregation, name is Jackson Wilson. I would like to help but… there are some problems I need to deal with.” His lips tightened into a small frown as he talked, and when he finished his brow had furrowed. She couldn’t tell if his mood was downed talking about the family, his inability to help her, or the problems within his own life.
Adiane offered a small grateful smile to him. “I would love to have some help around the house. Thank you again for helping me out, it really means a lot. And, if you ever need any help please let me know.” He nodded and smiled as they pulled onto a small dirt road with a rusty mailbox at the end.
“Well this is the address.” A little ways from the main road sat a large old white house, the flowers her Aunt had planted were being strangled by tall weeds, paint chipping off the window shutters, and a rusty old pick up truck sat in the driveway.
….It was a fixer upper for sure.
Carefully stepping out of the truck, Adaine took in a deep breath, her ribs twinged at the notion, but the smell of the forest surrounding her senses was worth it. Helping the Pastor Jeffries take her stuff out the back of the truck and lugged it to the front door, she fished out her keys and slotted it into the door. It opened with a small click, and she released a sigh of air she’d subconsciously been holding in. They placed her things in the foyer and took in the sight of her new home. Books, magazines, and mail were pilled here and there, dust covered the majority of the windows and end tables, and an old ratty blue rug greeted them.
Coughing into his elbow, Pastor Jeffries took a step back out the door. “Well, it's a diamond in the rough.” His eyes darted from the overgrown garden to the inside of the dusty house. “A lot of rough.” He pulled out a cellphone from his back pocket, “Here let me give Jackson’s number.”
Exchanging numbers with Pastor Jeffries and an introductory text from Pastor Jeffries for her, and an exchange in goodbyes. He moved to walk back to his truck, but stopped and took a few steps back toward her. The same frown he had had before on the car ride was back on his face.
“I don’t want to seem rude, or God forgive me if I’m just being petty, but I think you should know something about Hope County.” He took in a deep troubled breath, “Recently there have been...disturbing allegations about a local religious group. It’s called Eden’s Gate, and I just want you to be careful around these people. It's run by a man named Joseph Seed and his brothers, I just don’t want you walking in blind, but I'm sure it’s nothing. I need to be heading back now, hope to see you later Ms. Adaine.” Adaine stood in stunned silence as Jermone Jeffries drove off. Ice cold fear shot through her body, she could feel her heartbeat in her ears like a rapid pace drum.
Eden’s Gate.
Project Eden’s Gate.
The Seeds.
Far Cry.
How could she be so oblivious, the familiarity of Pastor Jermone Jeffries, Hope County a name that she should have known. God she was so stupid. Shaking hands grabbed the door frame to support her body from collapsing. The bombs, there was going to be a nuclear fallout and she was stuck in place that would become ravaged by a lunatic cult. Adaine sucked in a deep breath before her knees collapsed under her and her mind was overcome with fear.
_______________________________________________
His body was slammed into rapidly passing trees, he clawed at the steep rocky ground. He had to stop. Why wasn’t he stopping? As he tumbled, he got a fleeting glance of a large piece of wood jutting out of his abdomen. Fear gripped his heart as his head came crashing down on a rock.
A jolt of movement and suddenly he was driving a car swerving into a large forest. Fuck, fuck, fuck, turn the wheel! Jerking the wheel, caused the car to flip and the last thing he knows is his head slamming into the steering wheel.
Jolting awake clutching his head, Joseph stumbles out of bed, barely making it to the bathroom before he vomited violently into the toilet. Resting his face against the cool floor tile, Joseph gets the last bits of the vision.
Groggily waking up in an unknown place. Pain. His body is Pain. This isn’t right. Nothing is right. Sadness. Loneliness. Why doesn’t someone come for him? All alone.
Flashes of a face not his own in the mirror. Wrong. Things are wrong.
Strength. This will not break me, move on you must move on.
A trembling smile comes onto his face, finally you were here. He’s waited so long.
#far cry 5#far cry#far cry imagine#far cry 5 imagine#joseph seed#john seed#jacob seed#joseph seed imagine#jacob seed imagine#john seed imagine#self interest#chapter 1#tw death#death tw#tw anxiety#tw anxiety attack#tw car accident#tw car wreck#tw car crash#tw body dysphoria
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What did 2020 teach you?!
The lessons I've received from 2020 are life changing. I'm extremely grateful to still be here to talk about it.
The most valuable lesson I learned was Self Worth. For many years I struggled with feeling like I wasn't good enough & NO! the feeling didn't just go away but it is something I continue to work on. I realized that many people who were supporting me were only there for their personal benefit.
Am I mad at these people, absolutely not, they no longer have access to my life. For a very long time I struggled with being a people pleaser because I just felt 'NOT ENOUGH'. I would do anything for anyone because I just felt that they would need me more. I knew I was doing this in every kind of relationship I had, & I mean romantically, friendships, even with my family.
So what made me stop!!! Being isolated from the world for almost 4 months! Self-reflection.. I dealt with all my demons & insecurities. I went through family issues and the same people I was there for when they had issues, did not reciprocate the same for me. I felt so alone & betrayed. From the minute the ball dropped in 2020 I just felt the darkness taking over, I was severely depressed, suicidal thoughts, the darkest of darkest places is where I was. I can't even explain what triggered it, but I was there and I was living there and making myself very comfortable. I was robotic, getting up everyday continuing life like nothing was wrong, but when I look back I don't even remember a lot. My very AMAZING boyfriend and I even broke up! No other reason than I was just depressed & dead inside. We drifted apart & by the time I realized it, It was too late! So now I'm alone battling this all byself.
How did I get through this?
With no one being there for me to talk to and confide in I just started processing my wrongs and my rights. I had to figure out what was the root cause of it all and fix it. I taught everyone around me that I am capable of handling everything on my own, so when I did need anyone, no one knew how to be there for me. This is not an excuse for them though because sometimes listening is enough, or just sitting in room with me in silence.
Teaching yourself that you are worthy in your Mid 30s is not easy. Falling in love with yourself after having changed so much over the years is hard ASF. I had to get to know myself again, just like in any new relationship. I did a lot of writing & reading what I was writing. I talked to myself, because who's going to be harder on you than you & knows you better than you. Most importantly of all I started looking at myself in the mirror. This was the most important because I was forgetting what I looked like, stopped getting dressed, stopped taking pictures of myself, I just let myself go. Then I realized I needed to change because I felt when I looked at myself I was still this 16/17 year old girl. So this was definitely how others saw me. I wanted to change myself but still look at myself and see me, but an improved me. So once I started realizing that I was worth so much more than I've lead myself to believe I was, I needed to try to fix my relationship with this AMAZING man. I was scared because months went by and again I thought to myself, what if he no longer wants me, what if he has moved on? I had to tell myself that even if I've convinced myself of this, he has done nothing but love and support you, he's not perfect but you love him and stop giving up on the things you want most cause you're intimidated. So I reached out and he responded. We talk out all of our problems and we decided to give Us another chance. No, it hasn't been easy but it's been worth it. To say that his love is what I need, is an understatement. He has been right by my side, as I continue to rebuild myself. He is there to talk sense into me. Tells me when I'm being stupid & when and how to hold my ground with people. He encourages me to be better everyday and helps me see the beauty I possess.
I know I am difficult, but who isn't. I do know I'm a great person with the biggest heart. I was wearing myself down because I was giving so much of myself away to everyone, and wasn't receiving nearly a quarter back. So I had to learn to say no. I had to enforce my boundaries to protect myself and my heart. I learned to put myself first. To me that is the great lesson.
So often we lose ourselves in so much, work, friends, family and relationships, that we forget who we are. It's okay to say NO! It's okay to reject people with negative energy, & it is definitely okay to teach people how you want to be treated, even if they don't agree. Its absolutely okay to no longer have people in you life who don't add value, even if you've known them forever.
To be yourself 💯 of the time, you have to continuously chose you! There will be people who will tell you, you've changed, and thats GREAT because that is the point. You are suppose to continue to evolve. Different life experiences will have different outcomes on people.
Just keep choosing you & the things that make you happy over everything.
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