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likeafairytale · 4 months

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"You have lived so many lives, your brain is not made to remember all on its own. Here. This will help you. This is the best I can do." - Mnemosyne to Achilles about the hourglass

❛A hourglass?❜

❛Yes.❜

❛Is that your way to tell me my father is Chronos, the titan of time? Because that would be pretty cool.❜

❛Still funny, I see.❜

Achilles shrugged to his mother's words, to be honest, yes, he thought he was quite funny right now. Taking the hourglass from the Titaness, he looked at the steady seed inside before looking at the chain, which made him understand it was supposed to be a necklace. The demigod was lost at the moment; his mother appeared to him for the first time in years, to offer him a meaningless gift, but hey, weren't all gods that way? He knew Aphrodite did the same with Anastasia years ago with Helen's dagger, it was maybe just a matter of time before his mother did the same. He has to admit, he was disappointed, but also a bit jealous. At least his best friend had a weapon, something useful, what was he supposed to do with an hourglass?

❛Like I said, it's for your memory.❜ Mnemosyne said, as to echo her son's thoughts. ❛You have an extraordinary memory, Achilles, but a human brain isn't supposed to remember so many things.❜

❛Good thing I'm not completely human then.❜

❛You know what I mean.❜ She replied. She was both amused and annoyed by her son's comeback, but he was just like his father, which was why she fell in love in the first place. ❛How many lives did you live already? Three. Three lives is a lot, Achilles.❜

❛I'm perfectly fine.❜

❛That's not what the room is telling me.❜

Achilles opened his mouth, ready to talk, but he had no sassy comeback this time. He looked around and could only agree with his mother; the room was a mess. Books everywhere, curtains ripped off, it was as if a hurricane came into his room when really it was all his doing. His head was hurting, so much he wanted to smash it against the wall to make it stop. Make the noises, the memories, everything stop. But he couldn't make it stop, no matter how many times he tried, everything was swirling into his mind that violence was the only solution. He came to self harm sometimes, when it was too much, like today for example, something Mnemosyne noticed when he tried to hide his left arm with his shirt already covered with blood.

❛Tya seems quite fine with her memory.❜ He noticed. Although his best friend wasn't there, he knew she did not have violent outbursts like him.

❛Anastasia forgets some things of her life. Like everyone is supposed to. I'm sure you can test her, ask her about something specific, she won't find the answer. But you. Your memory is too perfect. You just cannot forget like you should. I blame myself for that.❜

❛Yeah, so do I.❜

The young man sighed and looked twice at the hourglass, trying himself to figure out how this little trinket could help him, –he was really fond of jigsaws and wanted to find by himself– but he was just puzzled by that. When he was about to turn it upside down, his mother stopped him quickly, bringing his attention on her.

❛Before you do that...❜ She started, with such softness that Achilles was suspicious. ❛I need to tell you how it works.❜ She marked another paused, and he noticed she was trying to find her words.

❛Like I said you remember too much... This will erase your memory. All of them.❜

❛What? So your solution of me remembering too much is for me to remember nothing at all? What kind of bullshit is that?!❜

❛That's not... You'll have core memories. Your likes and dislikes will stay the same, you will stay the same, you will remember who you truly are. You will just have to learn again some things. It will wipe your memories so it can make place for more new ones.❜

❛How does it work?❜

❛Once it's upside down, you forget. Until the last seed is down, you will not remember, but once it's over, your memories will come back.❜

❛What's the point if I'll remember eventually?❜

❛I cannot tell you everything. Some things need to be figured out by yourself.❜ Obviously this wasn't the answer Achilles was expected, but he shrugged it off. He was quite ready to turn the hourglass when Mnemosyne stopped him again: ❛Before you do that...❜

❛Oh by the Gods, what again?❜

❛You will also forget people. By that, I mean everyone. Except me and your sisters.❜

❛...Tya...?❜

❛It's to protect you from her that I am doing this. If you cannot remember her, she cannot find you, and you cannot die. The less you remember, the more chance you have to stay alive. But once all your memories back, once you remember her, you're doomed.❜

❛I don't want it, thanks.❜

Mnemosyne couldn't say that she was totally surprised by his answer, she knew about her son's affection for Anastasia. If she had said that sooner, he wouldn't have listened to her, she knew that well. She thought that if he knew more about how the hourglass worked, he won't be against it, at least won't be so quick to refuse, but she didn't know her son and his devotion for Aphrodite's daughter as much as she thought. Achilles handed the hourglass to his mother, who did not take it. For the Gods, a gift was a gift, and you couldn't refuse it, it was insulting. The young man did not care about insulting his mother, because she was insulting him first, by thinking he will be all right with the idea of forgetting his best friend, the only person who stood by him from the very first day.

❛Take that back and sod off.❜

❛You talk just like him.❜ She said with amusement, and she did not have to say anything more, he knew she was talking about his father. ❛You know how gift works for us. That's yours. Do whatever you want with it now. But you know I'm right. You know that the more memories you made along the way, the harder it is for you to focus.❜

❛I don't care.❜

❛It's not permanent, Achilles. You will remember.❜

❛But for that, I need to forget, and I don't want to spend a day without knowing who Tya is to me.❜

❛Your love and devotion to her is admirable. But that won't reduce the outbursts. They will become stronger. More violent. Who knows, maybe you'll kill someone. Perhaps her. And she does not have the same curse as you; if she dies, it's over for her. Do you really want to risk that, son?❜

He did not like the way she talked. Especially about Anastasia. But he had to admit –reluctantly– that she was right. Today he hurt himself, what if next time he is with Anastasia, and he hurt her without wanted to? What if he hurt her so badly that even him can't save her? The idea hurt him more than his migraines. He said nothing. But his silence was enough for Mnemosyne to know she won.

❛Until the last seed is down?❜ He finally asked, and she nodded.

❛You don't have to use it right away. Take your time. Say goodbye. But for your sake, do the right thing.❜

#achilles petrova #achilles x mnemosyne #achilles writing prompt #writing prompt #i'm not proud #idk i don't like it #but i wanted to write #but it's hard to be focus at home rn #but i needed to change my mind #and i couldn't come w/ anything better #i love my boy okay #and he'll be a wreck when he'll remember he forget nastya #icanbeyourgenie

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generalfandomsofthefreak · 1 year

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Spoilers for Owl House Season 3 episode 3: Watching and Dreaming (the episode is up on full HD on wcostream.net for anyone unable to watch it legally btw)

aight i'm gonna just, do a fucking "my thougths" as a watch through the episode a second time because i can this is gonna be a mix of serious points, and also me gushing because i'm in love with this show and also drinking like, just a toooouch

- I feel like lowkey, the things Amity, Gus, Willow and Hunter say during Luz' nightmare, are so effective and hurtful because they could definitely be what they actually think. And on some twisted deep down super petty level, they probably are, brought to the surface by the Collector's magic.

- Luz absolutely only realized just how much a child the Collector actually was when she realized they didn't understand what Death is. The way she now only asks "do you not know what Death means to mortals?" but how she fully goes out of battle stance. She doesn't just lower Stringbean down in shock, she instantly loosens her stance and puts them by her side, she's no longer prepping for a fight, because she just realized how much her opponent is a kid

- Raine with Tousled hair is so,,,, they're so,,,, I wanna marry them so bad you have no idea

- so on first watch i thought it was like, pretty explicit that the Collector killed the Baby Titans, but on second watch it might, not be? we really don't know enough about the Collector and their family to know for sure, maybe they did take away some of the kids, maybe they didn't. Maybe it was a bit of both? Would've loved to see more, but also i think it's nice for it to be kinda open so fans can play with the idea of there being more titans out there.

- When Luz gets overtaken by the growth stuff from Belos, absolutely the Collector does realize something happened. Like yes they try to "fix her" but the question of "where'd she go?" tells that they know, right away, something's up. This isn't like when their toys break, something feels off, different, wrong. The way they cling onto that little light, the hint of genuine concern in their voice as they ask. It's not just a, just a fucking feeling of "hey wait, where'd they go?" like when your friends are hiding.

The collector can tell it's different, it's wrong, but hey! they're the Colelctor, they're all powerful! they can fix her, bring her back! but they can't And the collector realizes what they've been doing

- I love how, from the very first proper sentence the Titan speaks to Luz in Person (not the wake up one) you can tell what kid of person he is/was. Like you can tell, both from what he said and how he's dressed, how warm, kind and loving he was. Like just, I'm so sad, he didn't get to meet King in person, and when i watched it through the first time i was so sure Luz was gonna pull him back along with her to the living, but it didn't happen.

ALSO, the fucking little hooty sticking out of his eye had me going in so many ways, because like, does it mean that Hooty's species are just particularly connected to the titan? or are worms just fucking Hooty's in the Boiling Isles??? Maybe, it's even a hint of where Hooty came from, because well there IS an eye on the Boiling Isles too! like oh my god so much in so little

- "and you seems like a good witch" i saw someone mention how Luz called herself 'the good witch luz' later on, and i'll see myself in a bit no doubt as i'm watching, BUT This is definitely a moment that sticks out to her. The titan himself is calling her a good witch, after everything she's done, that he's watched her do, he thinks she's a good witch

- ALSO, a thought i had, is how much i love that they show the Titan is just, just this guy He's got a dad bod with a billy, his beard's unkept, he's wearing a Bad Girl coven t-shirt and jogging pants with a glyph pattern, AND I BET HE WOULD BE WEARING LOAFERS. Like the Titans have been propped up so much through the series, because well the Titan is a big deal.

But also, the Titans are a people who loved their kids, wanted them safe, and lounged around in old shirts and loose pants

- THE COLLECTOR FUCKING, "I don't want anyone else to go away, I don't want anyone else to go missing" and him desperately trying to stop King and Eda and brushing off the, the growth from Belos, like oh my god he really is just a child learning about loss for the first time proper, like ever

also a headcanon i am having like right now, is that the Archivists definitely did take some of titan children away, either on purpose to paint the Collector in a bad light, or simply because they wanted, either option ending in the Collector being painted in a bad light and like they just didn't care about who they hurt. Because i bet he wasn't sat down and talked to about it, it actually does make sense if he never killed any of them and they just were taken and he was the scape goat, and i just realized that thee titan mentioned he blamed the wrong person, and at that point Belos would've been SOOO far into the future it couldn't have been him he meant.

Definitely, King's siblings are archived somewhere, and the Collector was blamed for it and no one talked to him about it

- the collector rushing to help keep the Archives balanced, their body being overtaken by Growth, but he still does it because he knows it's the right thing to do and just, FUCK ME DUDE, I love him, them, little funky fella who was neglected and never taught how to play, his siblings just pushing him away because they didn't care, or maybe even used them to get the titan babies, finally realizes what it means to be kind, and good, and what to do to make friends, and does something that does not benefit him in any way instead of trying to save himself

like fuck dude I love them so much

- RAINE, WHISTLING, THE REQUIEM/RHAPSODY, MY FUCKING HEART DUDE

- The way the "NOW EAT THIS SUCKAAA" line is animated, gives me hella anime vibes, like modern day anime, Studio Trigger type stuff, fuck me it's so good

- Eda, king and Raine getting to stomp out Belos like the piece of gum he is, is so cathartic. After everything he's done, he just gets stomped out like he's nothing

- The fact that Amity so happily goes to her dad, and Odalia is just, there, and she gets nothing??? Iconic, amazing, what she deserves. I also love that Gus' dad gets to kiss his cheek, like i feel you don't get to see that enough in shows. And of course, Willow's dad's kissing on screen, ON THE LIPS IN FULL VIEW And Hunter being greeted so warmly by Darius and Eberwolfe, my heart, i care them

and there's just too much i adore about the timeskip like,,, all of it, amazing

#the owl house #toh spoilers

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alyosiuscreightonward · 9 months

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-D-

“Is this my life now,” I asked myself as I looked at what seemed like hundreds of red taillights on the highway in front of me.

Owning a horse barn isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Like anything else in life, it isn’t always puppies and kittens. Again I was completing another circuit, just another boring drive to get a new clients horse ready to be relocated. I’d leave at dawn’s crack to put another hundred or more miles on my car before the sun sets. I should have probably gotten used to driving from Smithville via Elgin to Wimberley with stops in Bee Caves and Thrall.

I kept thinking about how late I could be today due to all tech nerds impeding my ability to drive by moving here to the Austin metro area. My foreman, Gallegos who was already there in Wimberley would wag his finger at me for being late.

“DIE YUPPIE SCUM,” I screamed over Englebert Humperdinck as he was droning on and on about a man without love. Ugh.

Finally we started to move forward and I was hoping to be able to drive today. Gallegos was a great help to me over the years and he’d always tell me if either the horse or the client were going to be good for me and the barn. He was always very intuitive about these things. The transplant from “The Big Valley” knew something about horses first and foremost, but when he’d meet the owner or rider, he’d give them the squinty eye and say something about how he felt, then he’d give a thumbs up or down. Gallegos is the best barometer ever.

Sigh. After all that traffic, I pulled into the driveway of the familiar barn. I spotted Gallegos’ truck parked next to fence. I parked next to him. As I was gathering my things, I noticed that he was making his way towards me. A huge faded white cowboy hat that had seen better days perched precariously on his head. Always dressed in a white shirt cuffed at the elbows, blue jeans and cowboy boots, this grizzled man was a great judge of character and not an ounce of fat on him. A tad thick but just pure muscle.

“Estoy hasta el moño,” Gallegos said as he stopped to open the gate. “You got a live one here,” he continued as he locked the gate behind him. He took a few more steps towards me before he stopped and readjusted his hat.

“The steed is a good horse for us, but the owner has a lot to learn about transportation. She wants to sedate him before he gets into the trailer. Not every horse has to be comatose to travel,” he said shaking his head.

I’ve been doing this for longer than I care to admit and hearing this razed my hackles.

“Who does she think she is,” I asked Gallegos. “I’m thinking she is the one who should be sedated.”

We stood there getting deeper into conversation as people and horses were walking around just beyond the fence. Indistinguishable chatter was heard coming from the direction of the barn.

“We will get this sorted out and if not we’ll have to get Frau Blücher to pay this crazy woman a visit,” Gallegos said with a grin.

“You’re naughty, Gallegos,” I shot back and stifled my laughter.

“Also I need to let you know that I’m going to have to go home tonight because my Tita isn’t doing well and she’s the last one for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. This is last one and I’m sure you have things in place,” I said feeling empathy for him and his family.

“Not sure how long I’ll be gone. She’s been dying for the past twenty years but I got my nephew, Derrick, to help you out while I’m gone,” he turned away from me and put two fingers in his mouth and whistled and bellowed, “Niño! Ven aqui!” Seconds later my eyes feasted on his nephew. Dayum y’all.

All of a sudden I had a dry mouth when I saw this tall drink of water. A lumbering man built like a brick silo came out and started towards us. Dark eyes, darker hair and his white shirt and blue jeans appeared to be airbrushed on his frame. He stepped out off the runway during Paris Fashion Week.

He just walked up the gate and looked at Gallegos and then me. I had no idea what they said to each other until I heard Melouk’s voice in my head, “The jam in my jelly roll.”

“Que Dios te lo pague con un buen novio,” I heard Gallegos say and that snapped me back to reality. He smiled at me and said, “My nephew, Derrick, here will be taking care of you and the barn while I’m away. I’m sure I told him about all the things that he should know about but you’ll tell him if something changes, right,” he said as he quietly touched my arm. We made eye contact.

Look here, I’m Gerta Haselberg Jorde Santino. I’m no second rate Diva who can’t sustain. I’m a well educated woman from old money and has ancestry touching on The Rothschilds. I’m a married woman and I truly love my husband to the nth degree but I’m looking at Rodin’s “The Thinker” leaning on the fence just over there.

“Howdy, Miss Santino. A pleasure to meet you and I’ll be there tomorrow morning,” his baritone voice said. “I need to get back to work now.” Derrick’s hand waved in our general direction and I watched those two ripe melons stroll away from us. Painted on.

“GERTA!! Darling, you’re here. Gallegos I wondered where you scurried off to and I find you keeping her from me,” the shrewish shrill voice of Bonnie Oliphant boomed across the paddock. If you know how tempered glass crackles into millions of pieces but doesn’t actually shatter, yeah, pretty much that’s Bonnie’s voice.

Derrick was gone. Gallegos rolled his eyes at me and walked away as Bonnie walked right past him without taking her gaze off me. She has smile that looks like she took two straight pins and put them on either side of her mouth. Ugh.

We did this “Bro Hug” thing that was so disingenuous you could have seen it from the training flight window of The Vomit Comet.

“Katy Lynn Hargreaves is out of her dayum mind if she thinks she’s going to sedate Linus just to bring him across town,” she said flatly. “I’m not having it. Now, all I need you to is back me up on this,” she finished and with a flourish, she waved me in the general direction of Katy Lynn. Ugh.

After several five minute conversations with Bonnie, Katy Lynn, Gallegos and me, Linus is going to be absolutely sober before, during and after being transported to my barn. The next thing I knew heading back to Smithville. I slowed down to a stop and noticed that I needed to clean my boots off again. This what I get for mucking around a barn.

“I’m Gerta and I have a thing for horses. It’s been 17 plus years now since I first smelled wet baby poo like mud and fresh manure.” The idiotic thoughts I can come up with in moments of panic and it made think of what I didn’t say to Katy Lynn about Linus.

Melouk sent me a meme once and it’s about horses. I wanted to scream the words in Katy Lynn’s face, “If I ever owned a race horse, I’d name it, ‘My Face.’ Then when fans cheer for it they’ll scream, ‘Come on My Face!!’ but in your case, impotence reigns supreme.” That’s rude, crude, lewd and socially unacceptable. I digress.

Derrick is standing in front of me with his hands in pockets of those airbrushed blue jeans. He was looking down at first then he looked right through me.

“Miss Santino, I went to take a look at the irrigation system like Gallegos said to do and I did. I’m going to have to lay down some new pipe,” he said in quiet tone of voice and scuffed one boot on the floor.

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asoulofatlantis · 11 months

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Would you look at two of my four blond angels working together like this? The Trails-Sagas continuity is such a blessing ♥ Without it, we would have never been able to see my dear Tita grow up into such a beautiful young woman an work together with my dear Alisa, who also has become such a beauty over time. Not to mention that we will be able to see or hear if/how their relationships with certain people may or may mot have grown in future games. Fingers crossed.

CS4 made sure you see Schmidts good side, even if it is a bit uh... less obvious to see then with other characters. But this line is just him telling Crow to come back, even tho that should technically speaking not be possible.

Even when I am on a schedule I usually do this mission. Because it just feels wrong to leave this situation be after everything we have been through with those two. The game also makes sure time and time again that you see Alan and his situation and it gives you an even bigger sense of urgency and importance.

I DO absolutely understand Rennes position, but I still wish she will at some point just be honest with her family. I mean, I am pretty sure they got it by now and just accept that Renne doesn’t want to talk about it, but it still would be nice for her to at least be: “Hey. I am your missing daughter. Lets leave the past in the past tho and live in there here and now instead”, because I totally understand that talking about her past would be... causing a lot more problems then one wanted to when finally reunited with their family. But I guess we do still have time for this to happen eventually.

The game makes sure that whenever you return to hamel, you suffer. This is a hidden sidequest, however, the ending of this quest is worth all the pain, that is why I am doing it despite the time-limit.

I wonder if Falcoms people thought: “Hm... this might be the last time we can visit Hamel... how do we make it as cruel and painful as possible and yet very rewarding in the end?” XD

It was truly a great reward for getting through the painfulness that is Hamel one last time.

I’ve done them all last time and I can tell you that there is no benefit whatsoever aside from some nice moments/scenes if you finish them all. You will see the bad ending even if you have the earthen cage already and it takes a lot less time to get the earthen cage after the bad ending, then actually finishing all sidequest and getting the earthen cage before the bad ending. So... no more sidequests for me.

Did you know that while a certain part of the church is taking part in Mille Mirage, Ein is actually supporting operation shining Steel? Add her to those “3 more monsters” and I don’t know why we are even worried about possible losing that battle? XD

Uh... was that here in my last NG+ Game too? ^^’ I guess that means we could... you know... skip a step or two and maybe do avoid the bad ending for once? (And here I was, looking forward to crying to Ai no Uta XD)

Edit: I just noticed that it could not have been there in my last NG+ game, because there I did all the side- and hidden missions and thus had defeated the dragon already and came into the position of the earthen cage before I even go to the fortress. So there was literally no need for that thing to be there then - and yet I had to watch the bad ending.

Edit 2: Ups. Its the earthen prison. I don’t know why I remember it as the earthen cage...

The voice speaking is said to be the grandmasters. Makes you wonder why it makes Rean feel nostalgic. As far as we know, he never heard her voice before...

You can say what you want about Claire and Lechter but I always liked them (tho I do prever NOT seeing Lechter in a Hawaiian-Shirt... XD) because in a sense, that they stayed true to their path, even when it hurt them, was also a kind of strength. But despite that, they also caved in, when necessary and showed us that they do have a good heart deep down. Obviously, they are traitors too in a sense, but with them, I do feel they deserved their second chance more than certain other characters. One could argue about that, but isn’t it the same with all our traitors? With Crow, a lot of people say that he had the right to do what he did as C because of his oh-so-tragic past. But people often overlook that he didn’t just try to kill Osborne who may or may not arguably had deserved it, he risked the lived of MANY innocent people in the process of his revenge and while he was doing it, he wasn’t showing much remorse or regret. Even more so, he didn’t even fully stop being an enemy even tho Osborne was dead and his revenge should have been over. With George many people (including my dear Olivert) believe that him showing weakness and thus enabling the possibility of Olivert and his Crew surviving was enough to redeem him, even tho he only paid justice to feeling guilty and the time he offered the Courageous would have been for naught if not for Victors sacrifice and Bs magical intervention and even then people got badly injured in the process. If Victor hasn’t sacrificed his arm and if B didn’t intervene they would all have died despite Georges little stunt. Arios, even tho not being the murderer himself, has backed up the man who murdered his best friend in cold blood with a shot in the head from behind. Yes, he felt guilty enough about it to feel like he murdered him himself, but he didn’t feel guilty enough about it to actually reveal his true murderer, not even when he saw that guys beloved little brother was suffering. Cedric has been called a terrorist himself who deserved a dead sentence for supporting Osborne in starting the war and being part of this mess. But why is he different from Crow who everyone loves? Or George who everyone has forgiven so easily? Or Arios who people still find so damn cool? Is the fact that he was a sickly and weak prince always in the shadows of his stronger and more charismatic siblings not sad enough of a background story? Was the fact that the curse would have killed this young character who is basically still more a child then a man if he hadn’t given in to it not enough reason to give in to it? In all of the storys above there is A LOT of egoism involved. Revenge. The want and need for power and strength. The desperation of struggling to finding ones own path. Curses, manipulations, brainwashing and trauma. And they all had their good and weak moments at some point. They all felt guilty about what they did and said so out lout at one point. They all have been understanding of their mistakes and that they deserve punishment or don’t deserve their position/social standing. So this is the reason, why at the end of the day, when it comes down to it, who is a traitor you will forgive and who is one you won’t forgive, comes down to how much you like a character. It makes us all a bit of hypocrites I guess, especially seeing how we love and support former Jaegers who killed countless of people. But as it comes down to our personal opinions, I guess at the end of the day we are all entitled to have them to some degree. What I do not like tho, is when their sins are whitewashed. Crow shot a man in the heart, point. It was murder. He risked many innocent lives while doing it. He could have missed and shot someone else, for example. There was a huge Crowd there back then. He let comrade G run into his certain death, even tho he was his comrade. He risked the safety of plenty innocent people when he allowed that stunt in Garrelia Fortress. Even if he had always planned for Class7 to stop it, if anything would have gone wrong, Crossbell and with it Zemurias biggest Leaders (including my Olivert!) and people like his beloved Towa would have been dead. That is not something to play down. Not something to fully excuse. They did some real bad shit and thats not okay, no matter what. And yes, the same goes for Cedric. He allowed that his very own father was almost shot to death, he allowed his brother to be blown up, his sister and mother treated as hostages, he almost killed the big leaders of Zemuria and their only hope of salvation too. He was supporting a plan that could have meant the end of the world and the reason behind it was ultimately his own weakness. You can make excuses for that, but that doesn’t make it right or undone. When the times comes, he as to come face to face with what he had done and apologize to his family and prove himself to Erebonia and thank Shirley for not just putting up with him the whole time, but also getting him were he wanted to be in a way that is uncharacteristically selfless of her. But I do hope we get there eventually.

So... but before we deal with our treacherous prince and our bloody Shirley, I have to take a break. Its hot and the pool is crying my name XD

#Reasons to (not) replay CS4

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thegraveyardjohnsongrey · 1 year

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April 2021

April: Convos of the Day

+ Started Cera Ve Overnight Cream + Getting Water intake back togetha + G Little’s IG Reveal! + First Time Working out at Cortland 2 Floor Gym!

+ started doing fruit/oat bowls again + #Wicked4Whitney “My Future is Unlimited” + Caden’s 1st Birthday & Baptism in Kissimmee !!!!!!!! + Set Gym Schedule for Cortland! + Back to Jurassic World on Netflix?

Said no and created boundaries (tina - health law paper)

Stay away from ranch? (Black pepper?) ORRRR sarku Japan (?) had bad reaction day of 4/22 from day before

4.1.21

Body: Noticing a sexier slimmer back (that goes down to my waist) - which is surprising, considering my workout plan has been non existent the past month. Also loving my smooth skin (knock on wood), my former chest, and my tan from the pool day

+ As always, I love waking around during errands and making myself laugh

Dropping off errands to tita emma and tita Cris. It always gives me a weird feeling bc it reminds me that time is passing and we’re all getting older.

It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything. It just makes me reminded that I just want my own life. I want my own space, I want my own routine. I want to be beholding something that’s mine. And I’m just not doing it quite yet. I want a job and a commute and routine thats lie and makes me excited Bc it’s mine. And I want to be fulfilled in having my own life and a new group of friends to have and rely on and like.. idk. I just think it’s passed my time here in Tampa and I think I’m just ready to experience something new. Whew, 2018 me, whats good

4.2.21

+ Tommy making the lineage diagrams was pretty cool

+ So Emotional by Whitney Houston is such a slept on bop

+ My chest be looking good in this light blue workout shirt

+ Getting into your clean car when you forgot it was cleaned is such a satisfying feeling

I can’t wait to work again one day. To have a stable source of income again. I meant granted I know it will come with us own fair share of bullsht. And that eventually I’ll get sick of acting like I have it all together and that stress is a normal thing to suffer from in a legal office. But... idk. Theres Something about me being excited to prove that I’m indispensable and that I’m valuable to a legal team. I can’t wait for it. (And that first paycheck, gurl)z

I think what I did msyelf really insecure about these days is not having the means to throw down money whener I want to. Or to buy whatever I reasonable thing I’d like to at a given moment. I mean sure, I can buy my little sum sum or my Glittle his tiki. But there’s just the weird not-right feeling that — yes, it’s my money that I’ve saved - but it came from my parents. So I really just feel like I’m spending my parents money. Which, actually yes I am. But. Gah. I guess I just miss not feeling guilty about spending - bc I know that I earned it and that I ***suffered*** for it lmao

+ Feeling amazing after I journaled and revised my March 2021 journal entry

+ Playing with Caden and everyone in the home; watchijg caden walk circles and explore while we laugh at his antics

+ Reallzing now what makes people old - and that is - when they gotta focus all their attention on their career and bodily health (Aka less on fun and being reckless 😭) I understand now 😭😭😭

4.3.21

“Let it live. But let it live in the past.”

Energy spent trying to remove it from memory and to convince yourself it wasn’t real. Well, it was real for you. And it made you happy. And there’s no denying the butterflies you still get when you revisit it. But there’s also a part of you that is now ready to move on with the idea - that you can have these things. You can enjoy these things and appreciate them. But only from where they exist. And that’s in the past”

Omg my new leather bag from Dan!!! Totally sick

4.4.21

+ G-Littles IG Reveal awwww

The nerves/being on edge about jokes going well lol about RV being “scarred” - also the Psis are really funny wtf lol

4.5.21 + Got $8 from my Plato’s Closet

+ FT w Shawntel being a little weird but that’s also bc it went really late and im just tired lol #Publix?? #Absolutely Not #ForMyHealth

There’s this weird feeling that I can’t seem to shake off. Where… I’m happy bc - looking back I know that ive accomplished so much - and that ive lived out so much and done so much- but I can’t seem to shake off the feeling that Im not as hpy as. I once was> And I think that has a lot to do with the fact that my life is at a stand-still and im kinda left to my own thoughts and my own critiques of where I am in life - and thats constantly replaying in my head. And im at a time where everything that set studying or interviewing or working on apps is hindering my progress and my life. its just a tough spot to be. And I wish I were out of it. Because while im here, I can’t help but feel like the best days of my life are behind me and that everything else is moving on and changing without me. Without my input or participation.

Whitney Houston, Demi Lovato, etc.

“I feel like a star who’s light has dimmed. Like a star that’s run it’s course.”

Everyone is allowed to have different seasons

“This isn’t it” - there’s lots of life and love and projects to be had”

4.6.21

Mayo = Joshs trigger word #CincoDeMayo

Purged & dusted my closet

Found $16 Target gift card from 2006; used it for my eyebrow pencils

Vacuumed mommy’s car

+ Cold Shoulder Ep 3 with LongLee

“It is so important to remember your best days, on your worst ones. -> importance of “Words of Aff” and why I made them; kinda wish I had done them regularly in undergrad when I had tours and asian community and a seemingly endless abundance of affirmation; but I know that I wrote the most important ones down and maybe.. maybe the best ones are the relevant ones. And I probably don’t need to gas myself up more than I need to haha

4.7.21

+ Boba Lounge with LongLee

+ “I’m not going cold or being cynical; I’m just trying not to over romanticize love and the idea of it” —- thank God I went through that. If I had to go through that, I had to go through it. I keep debating with myself if I was someone who “deserved” to have gone through that. But I do. I feel like that’s futile bc it happened anyway. Maybe life had to humble me down and provide me with a more realistic picture of human love and relationship. And now that the filters and fluff are off, I’m realizing that:

I don’t want it lmao

“Remember that Jean Grey’s transformation into the Dark Phoenix happened over time”

4.8.21

string of bad luck just trynna get to Ates gym after dropping off mom. BAD LUCK FTW #HumbleLiving amirite

“Be obsessed with your progress, and not with what you have left”

One part can not be loud enough for the whole thing (earbud problems. Stupid mplow)

+ burned 200 Calotes in under 20 min (and 600 overall at the Cortland 2 Floor Gym! Will most def be back. Haha) - Lo fi while music is definitely the vibe (lets me know Issa time to be productive henny!)

4.8.21

+ Full & Productive azz day

+ “Do you miss being young it hopeful?” - something about Greek probate / reveal videos. Something about being young and having everything waiting in front of you

Not feeling the weight of the real world , or the mundane repetitiveness of the average day

Goal: to have fun and to find youthful hope in my reality as a working adult

4.10

Waiting and wishing so hard for my next thing in life. I’m so tired of feeling like I’m mourning the shadow of a life I once lived. One with excitement, optimism, and memories, progress, growth, and evolution. It wasn’t to a point where I was suicidal or anything, but it was definitely a time in my life where inwas like, “wow. Life is not exciting at all.”

I really really really hope that by next Christmas I allow myself to enjoy the season’s festivities. I hope that- no matter where I am in my paralegal/pre-law school journey, that I can still find a moment to reflect on what’s truly important and how to celebrate the people in my life.

These days, I feel like it’s so hard to just sit still- and to enjoy the moment. Im so wrapped up and obsessed with trying to build my career as my life - and it’s like this constant and endless video that plays in y head of how far I have left and how hard it’s going to be. And I’m always having this voice that tells me how much time is passing and much I’m losing in the meat of it.

But I don’t want that to be the case. I’ve learned that if it wasn’t one thing, jt will be another. And contrary to my own romanticism times before, I’ve always had SOME form of stress to eat away at me. And now that we have bigger responsibilities and bigger things to deal, I want my coping mechanisms and my forms of personal management to be just as healthy and responsible

I’m not a kid anymore. And I don’t want to be. I can’t say I’m 100% adult yet either (even tho I’m 25 lol)— but I still won’t let that sense of displacement shake me. Am I too young? Am I too old? — bEtch maybe I’m both. And today is the day I would like to stop attacking myself and allowing my own fears to make me insecure.

We are going forward. whether we like it or not. Whether how far is up to us. Whether it’s in the direction or way we want, that is also up to yes. Maybe not completely, but. When we make it - one day -

We will know that we will have played a significant role in that success.

PDPsi, CFCY USF, Concordia, SPC/Raving. All of that stuff is behind us now. And we honor it best when we step into the next phase of our life- stronger, Wiser, and more Judsy than ever.

Let’s try a different approach?

Somethings I don’t want to feel rn:

Like I messed things up with S and that it was my fault (and my fault alone) that it ended. And along with it everything that could have been and what made me happy

That everyone’s lives are moving on and changing without me. And that I’m here yet again - wasting time and making progress so small that it doesn’t matter

That I’m fat and out of shape and unlovable

That I’m wasting my potential

That I’ve always been naive about life and too optimistic about a God who could care less about me, bc he doesn’t exist

That it’s up to me to make my own happiness. That happiness is something you convince yourself you have - and not something you genuinely experience

Calling: to take an active and combative role in steering my thoughts and where I slow them to go and make me feel

At the moment, I feel very frozen in my disposition. I’ve been finding lately that I don’t have a lot of regular motivation - LOL. And that it really is my default state to just.... sit in contemplation and comfort. Lol. it’s really only until the last minute when I feel the pressure of time winding down that I really start moving.

But here’s the thing

I wanna start viewing my days as investments again.

I wanna see my days and weeks as tools I sing to build a tomorrow that’s I want to see

I’m not going to stay here forever

And if I pity myself and let fear swallow me alive, I KNOW that’s how I will stay here forever.

And I’m not doing it.

I want to view my days with purpose, investment, and opportunity.

Not as things to just “get through” or be over with. But to really put fort my best. Whatever that looks like

4.11.21 + me feeling a rush from having a new bag and filing “productive and professional” and shiiiii —> feeling like machine; thinking about what Allyson stoner said about being a money-making machine at such a young age and having money generation as the top thing on your mind; “pardon my confusion, but. I thought life was about living - not about money making”

+ would really like to be healthy/hot/fit AF for my next festival (will it be in 2022? EDC? We don’t know. But please have law apps done by then!!! *fingers crossed) + reviewing old paralegal stuff is nice (ordinances, statutes, writing, etc.)

why do I have so much anxiety over how people see me and think of me? Well let me rephrase. Why do I

Maybe it’s something that I feel I actually have control over. Maybe it’s something I’ve always wot I’ve excelled at. Interpersonal skills, meeting with people, creating a bind with them, and perfecting how I come across. Maybe I’m so obsessed with it Bc it’s the only fmaklaor thing that I feel that I have. And maybe it’s time to take healthy steps in alleviating that insecurity

4.12.21

+ First Day going back to weights

contrary to what we might think, the “heavy” weight we put on actually doesnt make us look all that bad. I mean granted, we’re bot as “lean” as we were in Jan and Feb (Aka the onset of “Abs”) BUT- out arms and biceps were starting to look MAD nice after our pump! Haha. Maybe this idea to focus on arms for the next 2 months (and less on eating “Minimal” calories won’t be such a bad idea)

4.13.11

Health Notes: Skin has improved SIGNIFICANTLY from increased and ample water intake (gallon a day) - very smooth and less irrritated

Concerns still: dry hair and uneven skin (even though skin is b soft and smooth)

Ya def add a little eyebrow on top to add more for nights out or Special occasions

5 responses from South America/Philippines story

7 hour lunch catchup w Kyle!!!!! - maybe God showing me that my situation wasn’t all that bad; and that maybe my having lack of conviction from S was actually a blessing (can you imagine howbmichbharderbjtnwoidve been if you were in kyles shoes???? From the outside looking in, she sounded like the perfect MATCH for him. I hope he’s ok. As much as we were laughing and trolling I could tell he was listening in on the parts where I was serious and warning him against falling for someone who doesn’t exist (whomp me and my experience). But anyway it was really nice t catchup w Kyle. Even tho I could feel my social battery lowering throughout, I’m really happy that I have a friend lie Kyle who WANTS to hangout with me and make time to see me and catchup with me. Someone who I have so much history with and was REALLY my first new and close friend at USF. Anyway rooting forward him and his future!!! He’s got his nursing degree in the bag, and I’ve got mine coming soon w law!! To Coachella 2023!!!!!!!! #lol

Dissatisfied with the way I look. Especially my face. I’m kind sad that I don’t see the sharper and more defined face that I saw from July - January. I’m kinda bummed that I feel like all my progress from Pandemic is now gone and that I literally look more or less the same since last year (my insecurities tell me that I’m fatter bc I’m older and/or bc my body rebounding from losing so much weight the first time around). Well either way,

Was really happy with my skin color after my shower! Dare I say.. it looked... smooth? And shiny? But I really wanna help my skin and my face. And make it look less “tired” and worn out. Most of my insecurity about my face come from it being discolored, uneven, dry, and scarred :( (oh, and fat. But I guess that isn’t a skin concern lol)

Things that kinda weight me down rn:

being over Grk life and my quick obsession with it

Not being close to rna

Being fat again and feeling like all my progress is gone

Law school apps, NALA

Feeling like I won’t be excited again the way I was from festivals and 2019 (lol super dumb, I know) - why do I always over romanticize the season I’m not in?

Allergies: actually had a small reaction from black pepper, skin is red and irritated (like purply) and sensitive. Like the usual burning sensation. I also have a headache and wonder if that could be from allergies? But also could be from needing water?

4.14.21

Health/Appearance: Low Taper Fade with Triangular bush-up; how to grow out hair evenly again?

Aino Men’s Fashion ideas (pero unfollowed on IG bc it didn’t give me anything on the regular LOL)

New shampoo!

Revamp overnight routine! Started with Cera Ve overnight cream, but would also like to start eye cream

“What if you had a choice to choose what reality you lived in?”

What if, this singular plane of existence, IS the multiverse. It is a multiverse - simply foe the fact that it is comprised of different realities - in the minds of millions of people.

“What if you had a choice? What if you had that power?” What if you saw it? What if you used it?”

“I choose to live in THAT one”

4.16.21

+ feeling persistent waves of happiness and relief and pride and joy #NALA #Alowingyourself just to feel good

+ feeling myself after my haircut #Brows #ChapstickLips #SilverGrayOutfit #BodyOdy

Cool Airbnb and vacay vibes!!!!! ✌🏽

Lil & Glil bonding and partying it up 🥺💙

2021: The Year that I ... found a greater appreciation for my time as a Greek in undergrad and for all that it’s brought me after. Closer friendships with Josh, Calvin, and Thomas. A greater understanding and deeper bond w Greek friends, and my little and GLil! I think through Derick picking up Harvey, I found yet another appreciation of my time in PDP and how much I made out of undergrad. After everything and looking back, I really don’t regret making that last minute decision to go to rush and pledging/crossing when I crossed. I wouldn’t have the lineage I do now without it, and so if that isn’t a reason to trust Gods timing and how much meaning He can bring to your situation then idk what

4.17.21 HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CADEN!!!!!!!!!

Honestly, im having so much time just being here with family. Relaxing, enjoying the vacation vibes - laughing, eating, not being compressed by a time or pressure to be anywhere. Just - being! lol. I wonder if this is how God meant for people to live once in a while (hashtag Sundays?) Also anyway, can we just. Talk about how cool this house and backyard is?????? Qorl. 4 Playstations, a themed rooms, a TV in each one, a bomb jazz backyard. Like uhm??. AND. EVERYONE gets a bathroom. Im like— !!!!! UHM? lol. wow. Like this is a vacay home. Enjoying the mf pool and the bomb jazz backyard! LIKE WOW RICH. I felt so bougie and relaxed and on a high from enjoying the sun lol. Being on instagram, enjoying people’s reactions from my WAP video, out wholesome story about Caden’s duck pool party….. I felt such a swelling of happiness and joy that Caden/everyone had so much fun from the Ducy pool!!!! aww. WORTH EVERY CENT, TBH. And Caden can share it with Liana!

Frustration and annoyance w having to deal with the company of the sm*hs. are they hard to work with, yes. Does it make loving them hard, yes.

But I think. When we think about the world and much God actually loves, and how there are many reasons why it shouldn’t work in our favor - and yet it still does, we should operate from a place of gratitude. And being grateful is serving as an extension of His grace. That is the challenge and that is the stuff of life, isn’t it

+ Sirius XM radio is IT henny

Soul cycle radio and their top 40 trap top 40 and throwback hits??? WOw

Happy Baptism Caden!!!!

Caden’s Baby Raddle Rosary was a success!!!!!! #daww

Enjoyed backyard and vacation vibes once again!

Green lizard 🤢🤢 #TitoToTheRescue

Mickey Ice cream with ate Lee #MickeysSyrawBERRYgoodicecream

lowkey highkey burned myself

LOVING my face and my nose and my eyebrows and my cheekbones. Even though I KNOW I’m getting rounder and putting on more weight from my diet, I still love how I look and how I’m “rocking” the petite and chonky aesthetic

Going to start dieting and working out again for May!

I have a lot to be thankful for, Dont i?

I really can’t believe how fast he’s learning and growing and HOW CUTEEEEE HE ISSSS

Pa Cute

Ash Whole

Toll toll TIKA

body parts: beautiful eyes, tongue, hands, feet, tummy etc

Is it selfish of me to be fulfilled in every way in the sense of my family, but am never satisfied in terms of feeling lonely?

“Is this not enough to convince you that I love you? And mean every ounce of joy for you? In the way that I had always dreamed and intended?”

I doubt the idea of what Gods image of joy is for me a lot, simply bc I’ve been hurt. And I’ve been discouraged from trying to convince myself that I like Gods idea of joy for me. And sometimes I’m just not convinced.

“Why was I made to disobey you?” /// “You were made to choose me from Grace.”

Pinky Analogy - shower door handle - could not by itself open the shower door. Questioning the ability of my kinky and why it could bot - by itself - enact what I needed it to do in that moment. And by the time I have it 4 seconds of angry thought, I came to the realization: is this fair ?

I thought about how much expectations I placed into this one singe part of my bday - one that is (to my knowledge) fully able - and completely placing all of my anger on this one pinky - not even considering how my arm was angled, where I was pulling from, if I had even the right part of the handle TO pull. This brought me to the realization that: we do that all the time I’m society. Ensuring that everyone recognizes the power of their presence and role - and to not blame things on one particular thing. Maybe it’s time we stop placing the weight of a community on an individual- maybe we ought to refrain from .. what SHOULD be the weight and responsibility of a community. One that is healthy vibrant and functioning. (Br

Grace depends on what we do based on what we know. In times when we KNOW something is off, and can recognize our role in it, that is when we can be loving instruments. Instruments of Grace, forgiveness, and patience

officially weigh 180 :( LMFAO * as of 4/20 evening • I feel very guilty for gaining weight and having erased all my progress from the past 4 months. BUT if anything: im also hoping top use this time to experiment and focus on biceps, chests, and thighs --- I wanna see if doing more weights will improve my appearance more than doing mostly cardio!!!!!

Although I’ve lowkey been feeling my “thick” aesthetic, i dont want to wait until i get to appoint where i absolutely loath the image i see in the mirror. BUT at the same time I wanna get a head-start on being the healthiest version of me again! Im happy that vacation time has really given me a time to relax and to enjoy and to indulge! But now its time to get back on the other season of life - which is to find balance and grind and to fill myself with motivation!

ALSO I AM 175/180 AS OF APRIL 20TH OMG WTF

Maybe we need not weigh ourselves down by everything we’ve done in the past.

Maybe we are allowed to move on- free of any expectations that we might’ve set for ourselves and what our lives should look like by now

I wonder what would life would look like without my worries. I wonder what life what feel like free

4.21.21

I hate it when I dip into my lows.

I hate it... when I feel like all my motivation has run out. And.. when all my doubts kinda sneak up on me and attack me all at once. Like it’s been waiting until I’m tired and worn out to pounce.

I hate feeling like all my best days are behind me, and that there’s nothing else that will give me the excitement and feelings of importance i once had before. I hate seeing what others are currently doing (or have already done) in the undergrad years and comparing it to mine - a journey that I thought was so fitting and perfect and FULL- only to now feel like my story isn’t going anywhere anymore and that my story wasn’t all that great , and that I could’ve a lot more make my undergrad experience even BETTER (at least professionally).

(S hall of fame, that lambda Hal of fame, Vitoria yang 25 under 25)

I hate having this same story of worry, dread, guilt, and fear.

I hate whenever I feel like I’m “dumb” for having hope that I’ll get into Nova or anyother law school out there, and I hate feeling like people will look down on me for wanting this the past 3 years- yet still amounting to nothing.

I hate when I convince myself that every victory I’ve had so far in my post-grad journey doesnt matter.

I hate feeling like my story isn’t going anywhere soon.

I hate having to put a name to all of the anxiety in my head and all of the weight in my heart.

I hate that I fear that I will never make my parents or my siblings proud - and that I won’t be able to give back to them in the same way that have endlessly done so for me.

I hate that I feel like I’m never growing up (at least — not in the way I shoul have been right now)z

I hate that this has robbed me of time, confidence, and gratitude. I hate that it robs me of joy, and I hate that I feel like less of myself whenever I’m in pain bc of these doubts.

I hope to look back on all of this and to smile and to be proud of a Judsy that never gave up.

Paralegal Career

So in my current regime of YouTube playlists, I have lots of things: self-improvement videos, the View, Social experiments, fitness and cooking videos, Relationship advice, EDM, Zach Campbell music reviews, etc. And most esp right now is the Paralegal Career advice ones!

4.22.21

+ Overall, getting better at being more straight to the point and less wordy; I recognize now how truly TIRING it is to have to look at a huge chunk of passage and feeling compelled to read all of it(unless its like super interesting). getting straight tot the point is actually a very important thing and it’s actually very professional and efficient. As a potential future lawyer (or any kind of legal professional) in the future, this is something that I want to practice and perfect as time goes on

+ Got 65 wpm on typingtest.com #yey lol

Feel so weighed down by living at home!!!!

Let me put the disclaimer up front: that I love my life at home and I love my family

But I can’t express enough how - it is SO effing hard to set boundaries and a pace for yourself A when you SHARE that space and schedule with other people. ESP your family!

Conversation of

I pride myself on being a joyful person and a a an optimistic one (by default). But lately the conversations that I’ve been having in my head is: Who am I when I’m not that? And will people still want to be around me when I’m not that?

Skin being irritated and not happy w me - confidence going down and feeling all my efforts are to waste

But I dnt want my confidence and my ego to be so MF fragile!!! Like ugh

Talk about tree of knowledge

omg Thomas tea (but I’m really happy we talked 🥺) it’s been so long since we genuinely caught up and it was really nice to have that with lammy again

“Where is my reward” - Shawntel

4.24.21

+ Beach Day for TD Bday

+ Mortal Kombat with the Calotes & Smiths and Long

+ Putting Caden to sleep after dad was having trouble

+ FT w Little

4.25.21

I don’t want you to feel bad.

I think that this is a time about accountability? Not feeling bad. I don’t think much good can come from placing your mental default at sad. And discouraged.

I think what recognize how important these next few months are going to actually be, and I think that we’re realizing how much we actually don’t want to drop the ball on this.

Action & accountability. This is going to be the mental state that is going to drive us from May into June.

Also looking forward to Dose #2 on Friday!

Sometimes I feel lonely, and I think that’s ok. Sometimes .. sometimes you have to remind yourself that not every waking moment needs to feel like a perfect high or a smooth movie. Haha I think I often forget that’s normal

“When will you give yourself peace?”

I think there comes a point where you HAVE to be ok with what you can give. Like... that’s the most destructive part of being a perfectionist isn’t it? Like... hat feeling of wherever you do or whatever you put forward- HAS to be perfect and it HAS to be flawless

And as much as that offers a lot of drive and inspiration for you along the way, I think there comes a point where you have to be ok with the occasional limitation and how that affects your performance. Like girl

Sometimes you just gotta do it.

And so I’m proud of you today. I know that you’ve been feeling down a lot about your body and all the obstacles that stand in the way of you working out as much as frequently as you used to. And how all the birthdays and fun festivities have been making you feel like you haven’t been studying or working on applications and doing anything productive, really.

But babe, celebrating life is productive.. celebratory your family is Productive

So be gentle. don’t beat yourself up for having lost time. God replaces what has been lost, and you most certainly have all that much time to improve and to grow and to be on the right track

Embrace every moment as it comes, and remember that right now is a time of accountability not punishing or belittling yourself.

Being harder on yourself than life is not going to make life any lighter.

It’s all about action, accountability, peace, and acceptance.

I’m proud of you. Those 500 calories burnt on the treadmill were FIRE as all Fuq. And you look good while doing it.

Have fun at universal with the Vus tomorrow :)

4.26.21

vent to cam about being sick and tired of such a “meh” season in my life

Happy I got to see the development of the Velocicoaster today :’) - I CANT WAIT TO RIDE IT ONE DAY

Happy I got to see Caden and laugh and play w him today. He is getting so effing bug (like - a REAL adult sized toddler boy!) and my heart can’t take how sweet and smart he is :’(

Looking forward to the days when I know I’ve been accepted to law school. And knowing that my life will have a set direction again. I feel like it will be such a sweet peace. And tbh I can’t wait to wild out and to celebrate all my tears and worry and freedom from all this old fcking anxiety

Thinking about how the things I say about P*lina echoes advice that I ought to listen to as well: Your trauma is not your fault, but your healing is.

Maybe it’s time to start waking up at 7 and giving myself more time to do/fit more into my day! — ESP if I feel that family/mom is a large distractor of those things

“An artist sometimes never gets to choose how their day goes. But, for the sake of people’s enjoyment and foe the fulfillment of that artist soul — they grind through it. They make a way. And somehow they make it work”

4.28.21

uhm. Why tf am I not on the website? I understand if I were a volunteer or whatever, but the fact that im on the actual board and am actually putting in time for this and submitting things - and I don’t even get a formal recognition on the website? Like not even a picture? ok.

0 notes

decoratemisery · 2 years

Text

TTwTG - They Lie

I don’t remember who first molested me, and that’s the Gods’ honest truth.

I do know that by the time I was in kindergarten, I was already starting to exhibit signs of being sexually molested, re-creating the scenarios in my bed with my stuffed animals and eventually by first grade, doing what I was being taught to my brother and neighbor. I remember one night, my purple octopus was the perpetrator, one of its long tentacles making its way on my tiny body, lifting my shirt up, caressing my body and eventually finding its way down underneath my underwear. My stepfather had found out I was still awake, I remember his chest heaving up and down as he pulled the stuffed animal away from me and throwing it on the floor, almost losing his balance.

“Go to sleep,” he said, pointing his clubbed hand and finger at me. He pulls my nightgown down and I, in defiance, stared back at him while I pulled it back up to reveal my own heaving chest. I remember him looking at me for a brief second before turning around and leaving, not bothering to pull my gown down again.

Soon after this event, I remember my first lie to my mother. We had gone to K-Mart and there was a bubblegum machine with little bubblegum balls that I wanted. I asked her if we could buy it and she said no – I’m not sure how I managed to open the package up, but I remember taking it very carefully and hiding it under my bed. When my mom found it, she went into a rage. This was the first time I had seen my mother mad out of embarrassment.

“She’s just like her father,” she complained to her family in the Philippines. “I’m going to send her back.”

I remember my stepfather looking at me sadly. He asked me, “Do you want to go back?”

I shook my head. I don’t know. Did I want to go back? To my family, to Tagalog, to the hot sun, my cousins, my Lola? Or did I want to stay here with my mom, in America, where everything is better, where we could afford to go to McDonalds more than once a year? My stepfather nudged me towards the phone, and I could hear my Lola and Tita telling me to be a good girl, to listen to my parents, and to not get into trouble. I told them I would try.

I lied to myself and said it was okay, and that things would get better. In the middle of my Kindergarten year, not long after that telephone call, my stepfather got orders approved to move us to South Korea.

When we first arrived in South Korea, we lived in the army housing on base as my parents house shopped. There was one bed per barrack room, and a pull-out couch. One day, my parents had gotten into a fight, and they ended up apologizing to each other that night, with me laying in the middle of them. I heard my mother first, then my stepfather second. He reached over me and held her hand. That night, I dreamt of getting up from that bed and walking to the small hallway that led to the bathroom. I could feel the cold seat on my thighs, the relief from the urine escaping my body. The next morning, I discovered my mom had moved me to the couch.

“You wet the bed last night,” she said to me in Tagalog. “Everything okay?”

“Opo,” I lied in our native tongue. I was getting better and better at this. “I’m okay.”

#csa tw #life with Lena #writing #excerpts from my writing #writerscorner #finding yourself

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beautiful-is-boring · 3 years

Text

They're not just friends

Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Idk why put the entire fic vanished so here's a repost.

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

Summary: Jean and Eren find out why you and Levi are close.

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

"Where is y/n?!"

"She probably knows Section Commander Hanji is looking for her and went into hiding."

"Why would she go into hiding?"

"Hanji is really nice but she can be scary when experimenting on things horseface!"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY YOU SUICIDAL BASTARD?"

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME YOU STUPID HORSEFACE?"

Hanji was looking for y/n to help them with their experiments. Was y/n supposed to be her assistant for the day, or a test subject? Who knows? She sent Jean and Eren to look for y/n, and that is what the boys have been doing for the past fifteen minutes. They were worried about y/n because of the shit-eating grin that Hanji had on her face.

"SHUT UP. Although I have to agree, you don't know how scary she can get."

"OH I KNOW JEAN. I AM A TITA-"

"Wait."

"What is it fuckface?"

"Eren what if Hanji already got to y/n?"

"If that is so, then we should quit looking for her."

"But then she also maybe roaming around the castle aimlessly like she usually does"

As the boys continued to argue and walk around the castle, they came across Captain Levi's office.

"Eren do you think we should look for y/n here?

"Jean why the fuck would she hide in Captain Levi's office?"

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed how close Captain Levi and y/n are right? They do everything together. Y/n teases him and calls him weird names and Captain doesn't even do anything about it!"

"....Point."

"They just brush it off by saying that they are just friends but I don't buy that."

"Let's check."

*knock knock* *no response*

*knock knock* "Captain Levi?"

"I don't think he's there."

"Should we check inside?"

"Hell yeah"

*knock knock* "Captain its Jean and Eren. We're coming inside."

They went inside the office, and nobody was there.

"Captain?"

"Let's check inside his bedroom"

"Are you crazy!? You really want to die?!"

"Stop being a pussy horseboy."

"You really are a suicidal maniac."

"Come on. I want to see how his room looks like."

Eren slowly opens the door connecting to Levi's bedroom. He looks at the walls of the room, some of which were plain and some of which were covered with shelves containing books, candles and cleaning spray. Soon, his eyes fall on the two people on the king sized bed.

"Jean come and look at this." Eren whispered.

Jean comes inside the room and lets out a small gasp.

There were two peacefully sleeping figures on the bed. One of them was Levi, and the other one was none other than y/n. Levi was on his back with one arm under y/n and on her back while the other hand was on her belly under her shirt. Y/n was on her side, facing levi and her hands were wrapped around Levi's back and head.

"Cute."

"Let's just get out of here. We don't want to face the Captain's wrath."

"So this is why they're always together."

Jean and Eren shared a single glance and silently decided to leave the room before their Captain wakes up and not tell Hanji about y/n's whereabouts.

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

-The end-

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

I hope you liked it. Let me know what you think <3

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi fanfiction #levi #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n #soft levi #soft levi ackerman #pretty boy #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #aot imagines #snk #aot fanfic #levi imagines

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swatheford · 3 years

Text

melody

(swatheford short #4) it’s only 10:56 PM where i am so it’s technically still mercado’s birthday! i got really carried away writing this one because i’m filipino so a lot of this came from personal experience and just hit really close to home! there’s a version for both eli and ella, hope y’all enjoy! (wc: 1k)

translations: anak - child / tita - aunt / lolo - grandfather / lola - grandmother

Eli

A bright yellow dress shirt and black dress pants laid on the edge of a small bed. There was chatter downstairs but the little boy paid no attention. His raven locks were gelled into a formal hairstyle, framing his round face. He puffed his cheeks, brows drawn into petulance. He sat in the green beanbag, swinging his legs while staring at the outfit with disdain.

“Eli? Are you ready?” Jennifer called out, the door clicked open and appeared a very disappointed woman. After a glance at her son who was still clad in pajamas, she clicked her tongue and lifted the fabric. “Elijah, put it on. They’re going to arrive any second now.”

“I don’t want to,” he huffed as his mom took a seat next to him.

“Why not? Tita Michelle made this for you!”

“It’s itchy,” he pushes away the shirt with a stubborn frown.

“Only for a few hours, anak. It’s your birthday, you have to dress up.” She pleaded with her child, desperation in her eyes.

“If it’s my birthday, why can’t I wear what I want?” Eli quipped back with a toothless smile.

“You’ve been spending too much time with your Lolo,” Jennifer sighs and gets back on her feet. The shirt is intentionally left behind and she gives one more warning.

“Come to the living room in five minutes unless you want Dad on your case too, hm?” The door shuts and the child knew he had no choice.

Eli reluctantly made his way to the living room and saw guests piled upon couches and trailing into the small kitchen. The dining table was packed with plates stacked with food from noodles, fried rice, to beef. His lips pulled into a grin and he turned to the table against the wall where purple cake sat upon a stand. Ube, his favorite flavor. He looked around at the crowd, friends and family alike, and debated his options. The frosting looked rather tempting…surely no one would notice.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Maybe next time. Eli looked up to see his brother, David, in a simple shirt and jeans but a proud look on his face.

“Go away.”

“I’m telling mom,” he boasted as if it were a prize but he clutched his arm. David swatted away his hand.

“I didn’t touch it!” “I saw you touch it!” Eli frowned and began to tear up to which David groaned.

“Fine, but you can’t do that every time!” Immediately, he wipes his eyes with a triumphant giggle. Youngest sibling privilege. David walks away, refilling his cup with soda. “By the way, your outfit is ugly.” “Your face is ugly!” He stuck out his tongue, catching his father’s stern glance.

“The celebration just started and you’re already fighting with David?” A man chuckled. His Lolo welcomed him with a warm hug and brushed the hair out of his face. He held a warm glint in his eyes as he watched him with admiration.

“He started it!”

“Sure he did,” Lolo takes his small hand into his and leads him towards the dishes. He grabs a plate and begins to get him food. “You’re getting so big now! Nine years old, next thing you know you’ll be helping mom and dad at work.”

He laughs, tip toeing to get a peek at the meal. Lolo stops by the leche flan before his son in law calls out, “Not too much, you’ll get hyper.”

The moment he’s out of earshot, Lolo adds a little bit more and passes the plate to his grandson.

The crowd claps politely as Eli jumps off the piano bench, returning to sit by his dad. David pushes in the bench and places a foot on the pedal before playing. His younger brother winces as his fingers run away from the melody and notes that shouldn’t belong together clash.

But the crowd fails to hear it. After three excruciatingly long minutes, the piano goes silent and everyone cheers as if he were Mozart. They begin to shower him with compliments which he takes too eagerly and Eli rolls his eyes. “You messed up.” “Whatever, you couldn’t play it if you tried.” David taunted and his mind had been made up. Even at the age of nine, he would never pass up a competition; especially if he knew he’d win. Eli swings off the sofa and returns to the bench, lowering its height.

“You don’t even have the music!” David sneers, but he knew he didn’t need it. Despite being five years younger than him, Eli had a knack for music and was seemingly an expert.

He quietly hummed the melody, swaying his head to the rhythm before reciting the piece from memory and with additional stylistic flair to the notes.

The crowd claps again, not nearly as loud as they were for David, but the shellshocked expression on his face was all the validation he needed.

The party winds down well into the night and his eyes felt heavy from the sugar crash. Eli stood by the doorway with his parents, wishing farewell to the guests. Lolo and Lola were the last ones to leave, lingering by the door and slipping on their shoes. Lola presses a lipstick stained kiss to both of her grandchild’s cheeks and Lolo kneels down to his height, “I hope you like the gift.”

The minute their car drives away, he rushes towards the pile of presents and hurriedly tears away the gift wrap. He gasped at the sight of the new music book, packed to the brim with sheet music for the piano. There’s a sticky note on one of the pages, undoubtedly his Lolo’s writing- ‘Play this one for me next time I visit.’

Eli runs to the piano, songbook in hand before getting swept up by his dad for bedtime.

Ella

A bright yellow dress laid on the edge of a small bed. There was chatter downstairs but the little girl paid no attention. Her thin, raven locks were pulled into two braids on both sides of her round face. She puffed her cheeks, brows drawn into petulance. She sat in the green beanbag, swinging her legs while staring at the dress with disdain.

“Ella? Are you ready?” Jennifer called out, the door clicked open and appeared a very disappointed woman. After a glance at her daughter who was still clad in pajamas, she clicked her tongue and lifted the shiny fabric. “Eleanor, put on the dress. They’re going to arrive any second now.”

“I don’t want to,” she huffed as her mom took a seat next to her.

“Why not? Tita Michelle made this for you!”

“It’s itchy,” she pushes away the skirt with a stubborn frown.

“Only for a few hours, anak. It’s your birthday, you have to dress up.” She pleaded with her child, desperation in her eyes.

“If it’s my birthday, why can’t I wear what I want?” Ella quipped back with a toothless smile.

“You’ve been spending too much time with your Lolo,” Jennifer sighs and gets back on her feet. The dress is intentionally left behind and she gives one more warning.

“Come to the living room in five minutes unless you want Dad on your case too, hm?” The door shuts and the child knew she had no choice.

Ella reluctantly made her way to the living room and saw guests piled upon couches and trailing into the small kitchen. The dining table was packed with plates stacked with food from noodles, fried rice, to beef. Her lips pulled into a grin and she turned to the table against the wall where purple cake sat upon a stand. Ube, her favorite flavor. She looked around at the crowd, friends and family alike, and debated her options. The frosting looked rather tempting…surely no one would notice.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Maybe next time. Ella looked up to see her brother, David, in a simple shirt and jeans but a proud look on his face.

“Go away.”

“I’m telling mom,” he boasted as if it were a prize but she clutched his arm. David swatted away her hand.

“I didn’t touch it!” “I saw you touch it!” Ella frowned and began to tear up to which David groaned.

“Fine, but you can’t do that every time!” Immediately, she wipes her eyes with a triumphant giggle. Youngest sibling privilege. David walks away, refilling his cup with soda. “By the way, your dress is ugly.” “Your face is ugly!” She stuck out her tongue, catching her father’s stern glance.

“The celebration just started and you’re already fighting with David?” A man chuckled. Her Lolo welcomed her with a warm hug and brushed the bangs out of her face. He held a warm glint in his eyes as she watched him with admiration.

“He started it!”

“Sure he did,” Lolo takes her small hand into his and leads her towards the dishes. He grabs a plate and begins to get her food. “You’re getting so big now! Nine years old, next thing you know you’ll be helping mom and dad at work.”

She laughs, tip toeing to get a peek at the meal. Lolo stops by the leche flan before his son in law calls out, “Not too much, you’ll get hyper.”

The moment he’s out of earshot, Lolo adds a little bit more and passes the plate to his granddaughter.

The crowd claps politely as Ella jumps off the piano bench, returning to sit by her dad. David pushes in the bench and places a foot on the pedal before playing. His younger sister winces as his fingers run away from the melody and notes that shouldn’t belong together clash.

But the crowd fails to hear it. After three excruciatingly long minutes, the piano goes silent and everyone cheers as if he were Mozart. They begin to shower him with compliments which he takes too eagerly and Ella rolls her eyes. “You messed up.” “Whatever, you couldn’t play it if you tried.” David taunted and her mind had been made up. Even at the age of nine, she would never pass up a competition; especially if she knew she’d win. Ella swings off the sofa and returns to the bench, lowering its height.

“You don’t even have the music!” David sneers, but he knew she didn’t need it. Despite being five years younger than him, Ella had a knack for music and was seemingly an expert.

She quietly hummed the melody, swaying her head to the rhythm before reciting the piece from memory and with additional stylistic flair to the notes.

The crowd claps again, not nearly as loud as they were for David, but the shellshocked expression on his face was all the validation she needed.

The party winds down well into the night and her eyes felt heavy from the sugar crash. Ella stood by the doorway with her parents, wishing farewell to the guests. Lolo and Lola were the last ones to leave, lingering by the door and slipping on their shoes. Lola presses a lipstick stained kiss to both of her grandchild’s cheeks and Lolo kneels down to her height, “I hope you like the gift.”

The minute their car drives away, she rushes towards the pile of presents and hurriedly tears away the gift wrap. She gasped at the sight of the new music book, packed to the brim with sheet music for the piano. There’s a sticky note on one of the pages, undoubtedly her Lolo’s writing- ‘Play this one for me next time I visit.’

Ella runs to the piano, songbook in hand before getting swept up by her dad for bedtime.

i adore little mercado so much, this was such a fun one for me to write! hopefully it was a fun read and y’all enjoyed it! thanks for reading! :)

#eli mercado #ella mercado #secrets of swatheford #stf #swatheford shorts #mercado's birthday celebration '21

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Radio Silence

Summary: You take Tim with you to a family reunion hoping to monopolize his time. You may have forgotten to tell him a few things. For example, the haunted radio.

masterlist

a/n: I’m sorry for the wait. I forgot that I am no longer used to describing atmosphere. This isn’t my best work but I hope you like it. This was based on my family’s tradition of sitting in the dark on Halloween listening to scary stories on the radio. This is mainly Tim Drake x Filipino!Reader because I realley wanted to try my hand at a bilingual character. You will see misspelling of words in the dialogue. That’s intentional on my part. There will be translations.

“Yes, Nay, he’s the one in the picture,”

“No! It’s the guy with-” You blow out an exasperated breath. You hear Tim snicker behind you and you dedicate half your brain cells to coming up with the best way to kick his ass. “Yung mukhang Koreano. Yeah. Yeah. Dat one.”

“Yes, he looks more like a white boy. Mistiso.” You explain curtly.

“Yes, he’s smart. I hab standards,” Tim raises a disbelieving brow at you. You stick your tongue out at him but nearly bite it off when your grandmother speaks again.

“What do you mean doubtful?!” Tim looks absolutely delighted. A cheshire smile curling on his lips as he leans back into your couch. You glare at him then at your phone then at the ceiling then past that to glare at whatever god was up there.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME! Justine was an-” You mutter trying to remember the word. “- an anomaly and you know it!”

“…..”

“Ok der were 2 anomalies!”

“3”

“Ok maybe Tim is the anomaly, but seriously, Nay, he’s fine,” You snarl, the jaggedness of your Gotham accent rearing its head. You wince but do not apologize. This will bite you in the ass later but you didn’t say it. You don’t like the taste of the word.

“No. I mean if you don’t want us to embarrass you at the church social then- Yes, I have been going to church,” You can see Tim rolling his eyes and mouthing liar with a twitch of his lip in the corner of your vision. “No, he’s not the showy type. Nay, I gotta go. The food’s burning,”

“Yes, Nay, I lab you bery mach,” You sigh into the phone letting your grandmother’s lather your tongue cutting into the briskness of your consonants. It held the same euphoria as taking off your shoes after a particularly long day.

“Unless you’re Dick, you can’t burn cereal,” Tim cut in carting you away from your reverie.

“Watch me, Drake,” You huff throwing a pillow at Tim almost making him drop his cereal bowl.

“So, can Gotham survive without Red Robin for a weekend?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked me this before telling your grandma that you’re taking me?”

“I’m just double-checking,”

“How considerate,”

“To be fair, your schedule is already volatile as is," You huff snuggling up to him on the couch. It was too cold in Tim’s apartment. You think a rich kid like him could afford to turn up the heat. Though, you aren’t exactly going to complain about an excuse to cuddle him.

Tim doesn’t make a move to push you away. Instead, he wraps his arm around you pulling you closer. This was the type of easy affection you two had become accustomed to. This was also the thing that will make your Schrade even more convincing. "True, but I asked Cass and the others to cover for me. Plus, your grandma sounds like she likes me,”

“Considering you don’t have a criminal record and aren’t currently being investigated, you immediately rocketed to the top of her list,” You answer absentmindedly stirring your cereal and taking a bite.

Tim whips his head to you and gives you a concerned look which you return with a smile full of cereal. He blanches at you, shaking his head and grabbing the remote to unpause the Star Trek episode you two were watching. You both prop your feet up and chew your cereal slowly, not feeling any reason to hurry.

How long has it been since you started? You’re pretty sure it was 1 AM when you started.

As if reading your mind, Tim looks at his phone, winces then turns back to the screen without another word. You quirk your brow at him but decide that there is some truth to the saying ignorance is bliss.

You were gonna hate yourselves come noon.

It’s noon, the sun has the audacity to show itself, and you hate yourself.

You definitely, unequivocally hate yourself.

You groan in the passenger seat, head pressed against the cool window. The faint warmth of the sun glancing off your skin makes the tinges of nausea circling the periphery of your senses come to life. Your stomach does a cartwheel and you think- you’re sure you’re going to throw up but you aren’t gonna do that.

No way in hell are you gonna do that. Not when you’ve finally conned your way into monopolizing Tim’s attention for the weekend.

Ok, yeah, sure it was the result of some miscommunication between you and your cousin who then passed on the miscommunication to the whole goddamn family but that’s just what you call a happy accident.

You blow out a breath, greedily taking in all the coolness of the glass pressed against your skin calling your mind back to your body. You weren’t really good with handling the not sleeping thing.

“You ok?” Tim asked his eyes flickering between you and the alarmingly empty road. There was worry in his eyes whether it was the fact that you looked like shit or the fact that the road you were on looked like the opening to a terrible 80s slasher flick. It was Halloween after all. It would be pretty perfect. Dread licks at your stomach at the thought.

You let the silence lapse. In the corner of your eye, you see Tim’s hand tighten on the steering wheel. You stare at the expanse of farmland stretching to the horizon debating whether to humor his question or to let him stew.

“I’m fine,” You picked the third option.

“You don’t look fine,” Tim deadpans, turning to you.

“Stop looking then-” Tim scowls at you his pouty lips pulling into an angle. You sneer. “-You don’t look too good yourself, Kirk,”

Tim makes an offended noise. You look at Tim, really look at him, for the first time in hours. Tim, as per usual, looked obnoxiously handsome even though he was running on at most 30 minutes of sleep and had eye bags running down his face. Somewhere lost in his contemplative expression was the blindingly obvious hint of self doubt. You’ve seen it tons of times.

You peel yourself away from the cool glass to look Tim in the eyes. Dread swims in the pools of teal looking straight back at you. Tim’s mouth edges between a pout and a frown. You soften, shifting in your seat angling until your body is facing his.

“Whatever it is you’re overthinking it,”

“You don’t even know what I’m thinking!”

“Ay,” You chuckle and shake your head. “Tim, it’s you. You overthink everything. I don’t need to be a mind reader to see that,”

Tim huffs. Maybe he was overthinking things.

“ ‘sides, I don’t see why you would be nervous 'bout meeting my family,”

Has it occurred to you I want to date you for real at some point? Tim thought a little frustrated.

You laugh when he frowns but instead of teasing him any further. You flick the radio on. Your hackles rise as it crackles to life. A smile flickers on your face when ‘All-star’ comes on. You cry out, a noise of shrill joy filling the air.

“Oh my god” Tim breathes, running his long fingers through his dark hair. “You absolute dork,”

“Kettle. Pot.” You grin.

Tim snorts as you loudly sing along with the radio. Unfortunately for him, your enthusiasm for the song was infectious. Somehow you both managed to miss every beat of the song.

You somehow felt like you were definitely forgetting something.

6 cans of monster and 5 things of 5-hour-energy drink later, you arrived. Tim’s nice-looking car pulls into the dusty gravel driveway of a rather large and old colonial looking house. Seeing the robust form of the large house looming in the distance injected your veins with a stifling source of dread.

You love your family to bits but sometimes their presence weighed so much. You can feel their words already pecking at you, drawing pit and pieces of your self into frayed fibers. All you can think about were the comments hushed behind palms and the dissecting gaze of dark eyes. Your mouth feels dry and you can already feel your feet pivoting back towards the car.

Tim reaches for your hand, lacing his slender fingers between yours. He smiles at you squeezing your hand. You can feel him rattling from his own anxiety but his effort steadies you. You grin at him and squeeze back.

Your teeth click the entire walk up to the large oak doors. Tim squeezes your hand again, his teal eyes sweeping over you with a concerned glint. You furrow your brow and somehow he understands and raises his hand to knock on the door.

The door bursts open. Music and laughter wash over you as hands hurry you into the front hall.

“Nay! Dito na sya! May dalang gwapo!” (Mom, y/n’s here and they brought someone handsome.)

About 20 heads turn to look at you. Tim feels some embarrassment from the attention but that doesn’t last too long as in the space of about 5 seconds, those 20 heads were swarming you both, pulling you into hugs, shaking your hands, and ruffling your hair in varying degrees of force and order.

“Beh, you’ve grown so big” Your aunt coos squishing your face.

“Nena, look at this guy,”

“Tita, he doesn’t have any tattoos,” Your little cousin marveled looking bug-eyed as she lifted Tim’s shirt. You swat her away but take a quick second to subtly admire Tim’s sculpted abs. Your aunt scolds him and your uncle drags you to the main room where more guests were sitting chattering or screaming at a foreign horror movie.

All the apprehension bundled into your stiff shoulders dissolves like seafoam against the overwhelming warmth of the festivities. The raucous laughter drags the roughness of Gotham away from your tongue. In place of your slow, careful syllables are quick clattering consonants and concise vowels. Your vowels were still elongated and angled to a sharp point unlike the nearly musical words of your cousins but as you said before ‘Gotham has its way of burying itself in your bones’. Tim just never thought about how saliently it showed itself in words. He wonders how his accent (folded, neat, and sterilized) sounds to you. He wonders how dull he sounds to you.

You have teased him about it. You’ve teased him endlessly about the way upper-class Manhattan just rolls off his tongue, how Alfred’s British affectations worm their way into his syllables. What you don’t tell him is how the smooth velvet of his words lull you into a hypnotic state that steals every bit of oxygen from your lungs. What you can’t make yourself tell him is that you would gladly spend your whole life listening to him read a fucking phone book.

The festivities were lively and informal. Jokes flying every which way. All alternating between your native tongue. You laugh into your drink, hiding the hesitant curve blunting your infectious smile. Tim nudges you to ask what’s wrong but you simply nudge him back and shake your head as if he had said something funny. Your relatives didn’t seem to notice your demeanor or if they did they left it alone.

Tim decides to leave it alone for now. Instead, he leaned into the flow of conversation. His years of speaking at galas working their magic on your aunts. They bombarded him with questions. Most of which sounded like screening questions at the embassy. You snarled at them more than once to knock it off but Tim shook it off. He knows they’re just worried about you the same way he worried for you. Well, not the same way but it was their way of showing they cared. He lets himself be immersed in the conversation. It’s more like he tuned into the sweet sound of your laughter but made sure to dedicate enough restraint to not look like a love-sick puppy.

“Tanga!” (MORON!)

“Baliw!” (Crazy!)

“E gago ka pala, di ba halata yun?” (No shit sherlock, isn’t it obvious?)

Tim is at best confused as he watches the volley of words between you and your cousin. Your voices rising above the blaring karaoke. Anthony (?) clamps a hand on his shoulder and laughs as he watches you and Martin (?) hurl insults at each other. In the corner of your eye, you watch his reactions checking if he understood a word. He isn’t fluent but he understood bits and pieces. He’s heard you mutter angrily about customers enough times to distinguish an insult.

“Dun worry about 'em. They won’t fight. They’re stupid but they’re not that stupid. ‘Sides, they’re too afraid of Nay for that,”

Tim gives Anthony a doubtful look. Anthony chuckles at him, clapping him on the back urging him to keep watching. He does if only to make sure you’ll be alright. When he does, he tunes into your words. Tim marvels at how musical you sound as you trade another round of rapid-fire jabs with Martin, how at ease you seem. Tim makes a mental note to get you to teach him. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure how he would justify it. Admittedly, part of it was just wanting to spend more time with you.

He can probably swing it.

A surge of protectiveness crowds his veins when Martin grabs at you but his hand is swatted by a cane. The air crackles with a sharp snap. The room plunges into silence. A small woman with silver hair stands tall and imperious at the other end of the cane. You and your cousins stiffen.

“Hi Nay,” You trail off with a distinct lack of grace. You swallow the lump forming your throat, robbed of any coherent thought by the stinging look in her eyes. You felt bare under her gaze. Layers and layers of skin peeling beneath the weight of her attention. Fury flickers like firelight across her dark eyes. Your skin suddenly felt like lint and you were sure you would catch fire.

A pause.

A bated breath held for what felt like an eternity.

“Iha(Iho), It’s been so long,” She says, softening. Her wrinkled face stretches into a kind smile that made you think of freshly cooked vegetables. Her cane folding to her side as she loops her arm over your shoulders. “It’s nays to see you,”

A choked sound comes out of you and you feel something shake loose. “Missed you too, Nay,” You breathed. Tim feels awkward, fidgeting in his place.

The soft smile on your grandmother fades a little. Her sharp eyes appraising Tim. The look wasn’t particularly venomous, but it left Tim feeling like he’d been cut open and analyzed. He wasn’t entirely sure of why you were all so scared of her before but now he fully understood.

She relinquishes her grip on you and urges you to go back to Tim. You frown a little, giving her a suspicious look which she returns innocently. You let out a little breath before walking back to Tim’s side. She gives him another long once over before silently strolling away. His stomach churned but eased at your touch. You still look uneasy but you don’t fuss over it. Not when Martin decides that he wasn’t quite done with bickering.

The festivities went on as normal. Maybe with a little less cussing going around. But Tim barely noticed when your laugh, free of any hesitance, echoed sonorously in his ear as he held you close.

Roz presses a drink into his hand. “Congrats, you’ve survived round one of Nay’s hazing,”

“Round one?” Tim hiccups into his drink. He coughed. The beer was strong. A strangely potent amount of alcohol that made his throat burn.

“Yeah, Roz, that was more like round 2.” You mutter sullenly, distinctly taking no sips of the drink Roz had also handed you. The paranoid Bat-part of his brain screams that he’s been poisoned. He’s struggling not to let it win over but your conversation wasn’t helping.

“Nay will eat him alive,”

“I mean. She’ll do it nicely,”

“Pfffft, right! Ok, Tony, name one time she’s been nice.”

“How about-”

“The thing with Y/n earlier doesn’t count,”

“Why not?”

“There was a hidden agenda,”

“Oh shit! The bitch is right- Ow! You are!”

You look at Tim apologetically and squeeze his hand. Somehow this does not calm his nerves, but he tries his best to ease into his touch.

On the trip here, you warned him that it was going to be exhausting. He assumed, incorrectly, that you were exaggerating. After all, he’s survived snobby rich people and his family. Your family seemed nice. He can survive a nice family dinner.

But what you neglected to tell him was that it would be sheer chaos. He definitely wasn’t prepared for the sensory overload. The house was almost unbearably loud compared to the manor. Every corner was filled with people chattering, playing games, eating, and doing anything to entertain themselves. Sure, Tim was used to chaos but he was more accustomed to short bursts. He wasn’t quite as prepared for the seemingly endless stream of conversations and liquor.

You had definitely not prepared his poor unassuming introverted ass well enough. Not even halfway through the night, Tim was ready to crash. The 20 minutes of sleep he got beforehand had not helped.

You, the angel that you are, guide him away from the party. You drag yourselves down the wide yawning corridor to the grand staircase.

Lit only by the thin veil of moonlight, the house showed its age. Walking up the stairs and walking through its hallways was like falling through time. The halls were lined with paintings, all landscapes and still-lifes. He’s thankful for that small mercy. His head swimming in liquor, he is reminded of the portraits at Wayne Manor and how their eyes burned at you as you passed.

The lack of portraits doesn’t make the house any less creepy mind you. Religious fixtures line the halls, crucifixes affixed to every arch-like mistletoes. There were doll-like statues of hollow-eyed saints at every corner table. It might have been the dancing moonlight but Tim swore he saw one of them move. Tim suddenly wishes he hadn’t ingested so much liquor.

Before long, you make your way to a bedroom. How the hell you knew which one to put him in was anyone’s guess. You lead him into the room. Touch gentle and careful as you coaxed him in. Soft jazzy music echoing hauntingly. The dancing moonlight and the solid shadows of the room highlighting your gorgeous features, drawing his attention to your plush lips. You lean over him to make sure he was indeed still part of the living. Liquid courage surging in his face, he presses his lips to yours. It’s cautious. He gently runs his hand through your hair, pulling you towards him with a push. The press of his lips is restrained, more of a question than a demand. Slightly chapped lips press against your sweet and searching.

Tim remembers the warm press of your lips, the way the pads of fingers trail against the soft fabric of his shirt, your warm breath fanning against his cool skin, then nothing.

Knock

KNOCK

Tim grouses into his pillow. Tim was having an absolutely wonderful dream. He could still feel your warm lips against his. Tim squeezes his eyes trying to go back to sleep.

Knock

KNOCK

‘1 AM’ the antique analog clock at the nightstand reads.

“I’m up!” He lies burying himself further into the thick sheets.

His brothers really needed to stop breaking into his apartment at 1-

KNOCK

Tim nearly falls out of bed when he remembers where he is. He jams a shirt over his head and some sweatpants before stumbling to the door.

“Hey Tim, you coming?” Anthony asks through the crack of the door.

Tim opens the door a little wider. “Where?”

“Outside,” Roz shrugs vaguely.

“Whe-”

You step out of your room, extremely hesitant. Your knuckles were turning white from apprehension. You look at Tim, surprise plain in your eyes. You flinch heat rising to your cheeks. Tim remembers the texture of your soft lips. He wishes that wasn’t a dream. You glare at your cousins who give you a confused look.

“Roz, he-”

“Awwww, ‘insan, you’re actually coming?” Martin mocks clapping you on the shoulder drawing, what Tim considers, an adorable squeak from you. His heart almost leaps from his chest when your warm body presses further into Tim’s side. You can’t hear it but Tim’s breath stutters in his chest. He loops his arm around you protectively. Martin gives both of you a sly conspiratorial look.

You scowl at Martin. Glaring with as much intensity and intimidation your burning cheeks would allow. Roz swats him over the head making him almost topple down the steps before Anthony even gets a chance to rebuke him. Instead, Anthony turns to you, brows furrowed. “You sure you want to come? Nay said-”

“La a!” Martin protested. Roz rolls her eyes and swats him again. “Dipshit’s right. Nay didn’t say jack,”

“Then why did you swat me?”

“E, I felt like it e,”

“Bish, whose side are you on?!” He snarls but before he can lunge at Roz, Anthony is already dragging him by the scruff of his neck.

“Shhhhhhhhhhh! Not so loud. The kids will hear us,”

“I for one will not help you wrangle tita’s crotch gremlins,”

“We’re going to be late and Nay is going to unleash hell upon us,”

Anxiously, you tug at Tim urging him to follow your cousins as they filed out through the back door.

“Where are we going?” Tim hisses.

All four of you share a look.

“We’ll explain,” You promise.

The journey was eerie. Punctuated by the fact that none of you explain jack. The walk was entirely silent, devoid of bickering or any sort of conversation. He can see the silence driving both Roz and Anthony mad. You honestly look like you’re going to keel over. The odd thing was that even the birds were silent. Not a single sound penetrated the thick canopy of juniper trees.

You wonder the woods guided only by the thin ribbons of silver light peaking through the thick clouds of leaves. Tim can feel your pulse as it thundered in your chest. No matter what was going on he would keep you safe.

You arrive in front of a rusted gate half a foot shorter than Tim. It was small, easily climbable with plenty of spiraling pieces to stick your foot into for purchase if needed. Your eyes cut to Roz who fished out a key he’d seen perched on one of the coat racks. Hesitantly, you held your hand out for the key. Roz, on the other hand, all but slammed it into your hand, grinning in a mix of absolute glee and relief. Your teeth click as you worked the lock. He wants to suggest just going over it but you seem quite adamant and he wasn’t about to push your nerves.

Finally, the lock gives in.

You all file in one at a time in a sort of practiced motion. Beyond the gates was a path with its stones polished from a shine from use. The scarce light coming from the canopy of trees rippling against them. It lit the rest of the way still keeping the surroundings in deep shadow.

The path ended in front of a small dilapidated stone structure that seemed too small to house anything.

“Age before beauty,” Martin jeers, bending down dramatically urging Roz to go in. She, in turn, shoves him in with a swift kick. The dark interior of the structure swallows him whole. Her dark eyes cut to you. You swallow but ultimately you shrug off Tim’s hold and relinquish your death grip on Tim’s arm. You let out a shaky breath as you step over the threshold. Just like Martin before you, the shadows leave no trace of you.

Tim reaches for the last bit of your swaying blanket. Roz taking the chance shoves Tim over the threshold, his vision goes pitch black.

“See you there, lover boy~”

The darkness is all-encompassing making his eyes completely useless as much as he tries to adjust them. Instead, he strains all of his other senses. He feels the press of moss-covered walls closing in on him. The staircase only seemed wide enough to let one person pass at a time. The stairs wind in shallow predictable patterns. The scent of moss and burning firewood grew heavy as he made his descent. Distantly, he could hear the soft padding of your shoes against the stone but he also heard the crackle of jazzy music. It was the kind he only heard from the old black and white movies Bruce and Alfred watched. It was oddly familiar but he couldn’t place it. The smooth baritone of the singer rattles in his head. A shiver of mild discomfort travels up his spine.

After what feels like an eternity, Tim emerges. His eyes slamming shut from the sudden brightness of his surroundings. He blinks, eyes adjusting to the light. His eyes take in his surroundings.

He was in a clearing. It was man-made, constructed using the same stones that lined the path you’d taken. The stone walls were covered in moss and ivy, but the stone that did peak out reflected the moonlight freely raining drown from the clear autumn sky. In the center of the space, sit 9 people including yourself. All cast in the warm glow of the crackling bonfire. It is a living thing, raging and casting shadows sharpening and obscuring features.

“I’m so glad you could join us, Timothy,” Your grandmother calls out as she fiddles with the nobs of the old radio perched in her lap. It crackles uncooperatively despite her efforts. He can’t pry his eyes away from it even as he takes his seat next to your shivering form.

Without much thought, Tim pulls you close. You tremble, teeth still clicking eyes wild and fixed on the radio. The radio is a curious thing. It’s an old model. It’s sleek but dotted with various nobs and switches. If he had to guess, it was something out of the 1960s. In the periphery of his senses, he hears Roz and Anthony step out of the staircase and take their places in the circle with Roz sitting right next to your grandmother.

Your grandmother stops fiddling with the radio then turns to Roz who is now comfortably seated. Your teeth chatter and your shoulder hitch as they silently converse. Roz inhales then exhales. Her dark eyes sweep over all of you making sure she had your attention. Based on the silence and the still forms, she did. She sits a little straighter, her shoulders rolling back.

She throws herself into a tale. It was a story she’d heard long ago about a man, a house, and a secret. Her calm voice carries over the soft roaring of the bonfire. It wasn’t the scariest tale Tim had heard but Roz told it well. Well enough to draw squeaks from several people including yourself.

Tim relaxes catching on to the turn of events. He lets you press into his side as you make your feeble attempt to get away from the story. Tim chuckles at the amount of theatrics you’ve all put into building up to this little gathering. However, all his smug skepticism vanishes when Roz finishes her story.

The static from the radio vanishes. Its various nobs move without assistance and its switches click into place. The same baritone voice carries from the radio. Tim doesn’t hear what it says as his mind reels. He turns to you and opens his mouth to ask but Anthony begins his tale before Tim can even formulate his question. Beside him, you fidget with his sleeve shaking hands clenching and unclenching on the fabric.

Tim remembers how much you hate ghost stories. You’d once gotten sick with a fever just from watching horror movies. At this point, you were on the verge of tears. Your breathing slowed abnormally as Martin finished his story. The radio predictably did not whirr to life after his story. Through your chattering teeth, you give your cousin a vicious smile which he volleys by sticking his tongue out petulantly.

It’s your turn.

You squeeze Tim’s hand twice before worming out of his grasp. You flutter your long lashes, lightcatching in them looking golden as the fire flickered urging you to delve into your story. You roll your shoulders and let your blanket and apprehension slide away in one smooth action.

You tell your story.

Your countenance still and grave as you tell a story of crossroads and terrible choices.

The radio huffs, seemingly amused by your effort.

“Well, y/n,” The radio coos. Your name drips like molasses from its speakers. It’s unsettling how crisp it sounds. Its voice absent of static as it addresses you. “You sure do know about bad choices. I believe so does that young thing- Pardon me. Young things swimming in the harbor. They’re just a tinsy bit cut up about it.” The radio teases almost sounding gleeful. You nod gravely, stomach reaching the floor.

Harbor?

You settle back down into your seat. Tim nudges you, cocking his head to the side to question you. Your fist clenches and unclenches in your lap before you look him in the eyes again.

“Case,” You mouth silently.

It clicks.

The harbor.

The bodies.

That’s what the radio meant.

Someone clears their throat urging Tim to tell a story. He stumbles through a half-remembered urban legend he heard from Steph awhile ago. His mind far too preoccupied with the new information to really devote to any theatrics.

His turn passes.

And the stories continue as he mulls over the information.

It’s your grandmother’s turn. Your hand grips Tim’s arms white-knuckled. You attempt to swallow down the fear but it catches in your throat constricting your airway. The flames dance casting her face in sinister shadows that bring out all the sharp angles in her features. Her smile curls cruel. Her bony fingers trace the seems and delicate patterns embossed on the old radio. Static erupts loud then dies down just as quickly. Her smokey voice fills the air. Heavy and commanding. The story spills from her lips smooth and velvety slick with gore and unspoken horrors. None of you dare to speak. Some don’t even breathe. Your hands scrabble for purchase on Tim’s shirt as you bury your face in his chest. You feel him wrap himself around you shielding you the best he can. Ear pressed to his chest, you can hear Tim’s pulse hammering. The terror soaking through to his bones. He remains steady. Unflinching even as the story reaches its climax.

The flames flash, fade, then flicker.

The radio crackles.

The smooth baritone of its voice distorting into something undeniably inhuman.

Shadows dance.

Their hands reaching out as the flames did. A hard yank from one of them nearly topples you out of Tim’s arms. He shifts you both away from their grasp. He glares fiercely at them making sure you’re safe.

Sorrowful moans fill the air but your grandmother is undeterred.

With a shrill cry from the radio, everything dies down.

The shadows retreat.

The fire simmers down now small and tame.

Everyone lets out a breath. Both of you could feel everyone unfurl. Tense muscles, locked jaws, tight chests all loosen with the end of the story.

For a long moment, the entire circle is still. Then your grandmother stands up. The rest follow her in a mostly quiet procession up the steps.

“Roddy was harsh this year,” Martin whines.

“Nope, you’re just terrible at it. I mean hell even y/n got an answer. It was creepy as all shit but they got an answer,”

“Uh- Is it a good time to ask what just happened?”

Your cousins turn to you.

“You really didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“How do you propose I bring up the demonic radio?”

“Pffft,”

“Pirst, it isn’t demonic. Do you really think Nay would have kept it if it was?”

“She lets Martin hang around,”

“…….”

“Dis is a good point,”

“HEY”

Tim clears his throat.

“Raaayt, Ok so… once a year we tell the spooky radio stories so we can get answers or our future told,”

“Was the whole creepy walk necessary?”

“Nope,” You answer in chorus.

“It’s just our way of psyching up for it,”

“It’s your guy’s way. Tita at least let’s me hum songs,”

“Well excuse me for not wanting to listen to you sing,”

“Is there anything else you guys want to tell me?”

“Aside from y/n really not wanting to tell-”

You snarl at your cousins, red-faced and bearing your teeth. Martin and Roz cackle as they run. Anthony has the decency to at least look slightly apologetic as he runs.

“Y/n… What aren’t you telling me?”

“Tim, I- I’m- Damn it- I-” You put your hands on your face. You try to calm your breaths. “Look Tim, I-”You take another breath. “I’m sorry. I kissed you but you were drunk-”

“Wait that wasn’t a dream?” There’s a flicker in Tim’s chest.

You look at him mortified. You want the ground to swallow you whole. “Yeah, I- Tim, I know it’s- I’m sorry.”

He remains silent.

Your stomach feels like it’s going to burn up.

“I-”

“I want a redo,”

“A what?”

“A redo,”

a/n: I will rework the ending at some point but thank you for reading!

taglist: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders (I wanna drag you into Terry hell), @l-horizon11

#Tim Drake #tim drake imagines #tim drake x reader #my writing #batboys #batboys x reader #spooktober #fake dating au

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malikmata · 3 years

Text

Notes from a Brown Boy - Kansas Diaries

*Author’s Note: Some people’s names have been changed to protect their identities

The rain was the first thing to greet me when I landed in Wichita. Overhead the gray clouds loomed, shadowing the farmland that yawned in the distance. Distance. At first glance, the city seemed like one long stretch of prairies and cracked parking lots, occasionally punctuated by billboards of grinning injury lawyers and lit up restaurant road signs.

If you spend enough time here amid the crumbling old buildings, watching the weeds sway in the vacant lots, you’ll feel the slow, inevitable creep of dread or something like it.

It’s easy to feel lonely here.

But, if you’re receptive enough, you’ll run into many friendly folks. Sometimes too friendly.

For example: During my first week, I went to Freddy’s, a local fast food chain, and ordered a crispy chicken sandwich with fries. The cashier, a young woman with glasses and short blonde hair, suddenly started confessing her fear that her 8-year old chihuahua wouldn’t live a long life.

“I still think of him as a teenager,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He’s a chihuahua. They live long lives.”

Out here, in the most middle-of-the-road cities, you sometimes get a chance to show an act of passing kindness. While waiting in line at one of the hip, new cafes downtown, a place called Milkfloat, a tall elderly gentleman recommended which coffee and pastry to get.

“My wife says this place has the best cold brew in town.” Afterwards, grabbing his pastry and coffee, he wished me a good day. Most folks here always do and you better hope it comes true. Because here, like elsewhere, a day is filled with ordinary heartbreaks.

I will simply call her “Tita.” She works as a tailor at a department store, the only tailor working there, hemming and tapering racks full of suit pants under fluorescent lights. The nature of the job requires exact measurements and a keen eye for detail. She works hard, often skips lunch, and comes home dead tired. Her husband is recovering from 4 broken ribs after a car repair job went awry. Nothing can be done but wait until he gets better.

They live in a languid suburb on Wichita’s east side, a street with few sidewalks but plenty of lawn.

And noise. Plenty of noise. The neighborhood sits next to a car dealership. The skies overhead rumble continuously with airplanes and thunderstorms. Dogs bark at anyone who gets too close. A pickup truck blasts a corny country song as the cicadas and frogs belt out their lonely mating calls. Occasionally, a child’s laughter rises above it all.

Gossip is one of the great pastimes in towns like these. Even if you shut yourself up in your home, stories trickle in.

The neighbor across the street shot himself in the head.

The elderly couple that used to live next door got committed to a nursing home.

A fellow around the corner is on his third attempt to grow weed.

A college student starves himself morning to night so that he can save money for college.

Down the street, a kid lifts weights and punches the heavy bag hanging on his front porch.

Here, dumb luck seems, more so than in the big cities, the providence of God.

A man told me he got a job installing new carpets at a friend’s house. He was in desperate need of money, having sent most of it to his mother back home, who proceeded to gamble it away. When he ripped out the old carpet, he found a bundle of $10,000 dollars just lying there. His co-worker said, “We should split it.”

“No, no, we can’t take it.” the man said. He gave the money to his friend.

Sometime later, he went to the casino and couldn’t stop winning jackpot after jackpot. He brought home close to $16,000 in one night.

“So, if you do something good,” he told me, “God will remember that.”

Many people have come to live and die here, all of them wrapped up in the melancholic churning of faded ambitions and familial obligations.

Some people here have found something that returns them to the placidity they once felt in their youth. Sometimes that’s enough to keep them going.

For example:

I met Phil Uhlik, the namesake of the music store on E Douglas. He heard me playing an old Martin acoustic in one of the rooms. He shuffled in slightly hunched over, wearing a blue paisley shirt and brown shorts. He looked at the sunburst guitar in my hands and said, “It’s got a little beauty mark there.” He pointed to a small nick just above the sound hole. “All girls have beauty marks.” He pointed to his cheeks and smiled.

Uhlik started this music store 51 years ago and enjoys every moment of it.

“When you go to work for Boeing, that’s work,” he said. “But this, it doesn’t feel like work.” He motioned to the instruments all around him.

“How’d you get started?” I asked.

“I started off playing one of these,” he said, taking one of the accordions off a nearby shelf. As he strapped it on, all the years seemed to disappear. With a big crooked-teeth grin, he breathed life into the old accordion, his hands dancing up and down the keys. The smile never left his face as we bid farewell to each other.

I wish everyone in this world were as lucky as Phil.

I’m always seeking indie bookstores when I travel. Eighth Day Books provides much needed shelter from the summer heat. The shop was built 33 years ago and used to be located about half a mile east, in Clifton Square Village. About 17 years ago they moved to their current location, a 1920 Dutch-style colonial house on the corner of E Douglas and N Erie. Its blue trimmed windows peek through the foliage of neighboring trees.

When you walk in, you’ll see shelves of books on Christianity and Theological studies, most notably in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. I’ve never seen a bookshop with a section dedicated to Iconography.

Wichita, despite its size, feels like a small place. And with that cramped spaciousness, you’re likely to run into someone you may remember or who may remember you. Here I ran into my girlfriend’s 8th grade English teacher. A bald, bespectacled man with a gentle demeanor. After a bit of catching up, he said to us with a smile, “I hope all your dreams come true.”

The short story writer, Raymond Carver, once wrote: “Dreams… are what you wake up from.”

Wichita is a land that hypnotizes you; it makes you dream, dream of something beyond the miles of strip malls and airplane factories, beyond the shocks of wheat and windswept plains, beyond the doldrums and ennui. But it also shakes you awake, reminds you that you’re in it, that you better stop dreaming.

I’m not the religious sort anymore, having survived the regime laid down by my Catholic parents. But there is something enthralling, maybe even inspirational, when I look at the rows of beautifully painted portraits of saints and martyrs. Such solemn faces surrounded by golden halos. According to the Eastern Orthodox tradition, such paintings transcend art; they’re supposed to be windows through which you can glimpse the divine. They remind me of my grandparents with their judging eyes and moral seriousness.

My book haul for the day:

Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata

The Diary of Anne Frank

Earthly Signs: Moscow Diaries by Marina Tsvetaeva

Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector

In that last book, I found this lovely little passage:

…”in the Revolution, as always, the weight of everyday life falls on women: previously--in sheaves, now in sacks. Everyday life is a sack with holes. And you carry it anyway.”

From Earthly Signs, P. 40

According to the 2019 United States census bureau, 15.9% of Wichita's population lives below the poverty line. That’s higher than the state average, which hovers around 11.4%. That’s not the lowest nor is it the highest in the country. As befitting its location, Kansas is right in the middle.

The minimum wage in Kansas is still $7.25 despite efforts to increase it to $15. When Covid-19 hit, city and service workers bore the brunt of the impact. You can keep all your empty slogans like “We Love Our Frontline Workers.” Congratulate me all you want for my hard work but where’s my pay?

When you see that business here has returned to normal--people freely walking around without masks, no longer socially distancing--it still feels all too strange; we spent an entire year under lockdown. There’s still a pandemic by the way.

Loved ones fell ill, died alone, hooked up to ventilators in closed off hospital rooms. I believe every interaction now carries the weight of all those deaths. My family, like so many others, didn’t escape unscathed from the pandemic. My grandpa, Amang, caught Covid. Since he was an elderly citizen (and suffering from emphysema to boot), he was among those considered most at risk. We all feared the worst. Somehow he survived. The doctors called him a “trailblazer.”

Now, with businesses back to 100% capacity, I’m afraid that, just like the 1918 Flu epidemic, the past will fade like a nightmare upon waking. But it was so much more than that; it was an avoidable tragedy.

If you want to know what this pandemic has done to people and their livelihoods, is still doing to them, take a ride through downtown.

Things were already going bad before Covid hit. Back in 2004, the writer Thomas Frank wrote,

“There were so many closed shops in Wichita… that you could drive for blocks without ever leaving their empty parking lots, running parallel to the city streets past the shut-down sporting goods stores and toy stores and farm implement stores.”

What’s the Matter with Kansas: How Conservatives Won the Heart of America, P. 75

What led to all this blight? Frank attributes the decline to:

“the conservatives’ beloved free market capitalism, a system that, at its most unrestrained, has little use for smalltown merchants or the agricultural system that supported the small towns in the first place.”

-P. 79

The same story happens in a lot of places. A megacorporation keeps eating everything around it and leaves nothing else at the table.

The people are left hurting, a pit in their stomachs, and some asshole somewhere profits off of it.

While at the DMV, I overheard this:

“You have a good day now,” the security guard said.

“I’ll try my best,” a woman said.

My girlfriend heard them too and laughed.

“You really do have to try your best in order to have a good day here.”

At some point, we hit the town with a couple friends: Monica, and her boyfriend Will. Both are musicians trying to carve out their niche in a place that, on the surface, seems apathetic to creative pursuits.

It’s impossible to not be captured by their energy. As soon as we walk into their house, Monica, with her dark blonde hair draped over her shoulders, reached in for a hug. Will, a tall and bearded fellow with a bear-like presence, also went in for the hug.

“Ready to experience some Wichita nightlife?” Monica asked.

What is the nightlife here like? A group of high school punks wanted to fight us over a couple movie theater seats. Bored kids play rounds of “Chinese Fire Drill” at stop lights. I heard a nazi biker gang rolled into town at some point during my stay. Regular things like that.

At a low-key bar downtown called Luckys, I met a guy named Cory. He told me how he met a 15 year old kid loitering here, looking lost and forlorn.

“I don’t know what kind of advice I can give you but I’ll do the best I can,” Cory said.

This is the spirit I’ve often come across during my stay: A sort of slightly intrusive compassion. For a cynical Californian like me, the behavior seems a little strange, maybe even a little annoying. But I’ve come to appreciate the candor of it.

“Guaranteed we’ll know half the people here,” Will said.

Right away, he shook hands with the bartender—a high school friend of his—and asked him how his band was doing. Afterwards, we sat down and talked. Talking, after a year of pandemic lockdown, has become a lost art to me. But a little alcohol loosened the lips and suddenly I talked as though I’d known these people my whole life.

Will sipped his whisky on the rocks and told me:

“If everything in this world is meant to break down eventually, then any act of creation becomes an act of defiance.”

It may sound naive but to me, it’s true. I think about the words of the writer, John Berger:

Compassion defies the laws of necessity. To forget yourself and identify with a stranger has a power that defies the supposed natural order of things.

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 179

Making art has to be, in some way, a compassion act, because it involves letting the environment and the people you meet speak for themselves, allowing a collaboration.

“When a painting is lifeless it is the result of the painter not having the nerve to get close enough for a collaboration to start… Every authentic painting demonstrates a collaboration.”

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 16

You need to open yourself up, feel what someone is saying behind their words, and hopefully, feel what they feel.

Art, like Compassion, is defiant.

Among the 4 or so Asian markets here, you can find all the ingredients you need to cook up something good. During my first week, I stopped at a place called Grace Market. Like a lot of small Asian markets, it’s family run. A father from Taiwan. A mother from Korea. The son usually helps out when he can. Today (June 23), On this warm Wednesday morning, the son is manning the cash register.

“You’re from California? I’m from there too,” he said.

“Where at?” I asked.

“Sacramento. How about you? So Cal?”

“Nah, Bay Area.”

“Funny. That’s where my parents met.”

“Small world.”

On a different day, we met the father, a jovial man who never fails to say hi when you walk in. He came here over a couple decades ago from California, doing work for the US Army in Garden City. Once his service was over, he decided to stay in Kansas.

“I think you know why,” he said.

More and more young folks these days are leaving California. The high cost of living is presumably what’s driving this exodus. I told him I was also thinking of leaving the Golden State, as much as I love the place.

“Well, a town like this has a lot of potential if you want to save money,” he said. “If I tried to start this business in California, I don’t think I could’ve done it.”

The summer heat can, with the suddenness of a lightning flash, give way to thunderous storms. Speaking as someone from California, whose home has gone through excruciating periods of drought and wildfire, these nightly downpours are a startling yet relaxing sight.

The distant boom of thunder in the distance reminds you of how much of our lives depend on the weather, how small we are in comparison, how we are never separate from the goings-on of nature. The rain doesn’t come down lightly here. At night, it smacks and drums against the window pane with all the force of an animal trying to get inside.

But I don’t find myself frightened by it so much as awed by the combined power of wind and rain colliding against our rickety old house.

Kansas lies in the Great Plains, where layers of cool and warm air often combine into a low-level jet stream. Unimpeded by any natural obstacles on the wide flat plains, the wind roars across the expanse. Thunder growls over the prairie. And lightning flashes on the horizon in a fearsome red tinge.

The storm rages throughout the night, the only source of light in an ocean-sized plain.

“In general, the gods of the Wichita are spoken of as "dreams," and they are divided into four groups: Dreams-that-are-Above (Itskasanakatadiwaha), or, as the Skidi would say, the heavenly gods; and (2) Dreams-down-Here (Howwitsnetskasade), which, according to the Skidi terminology, are the earthly gods. The latter "dreams" in turn are divided into two groups: Dreams-living-in-Water (Itska-sanidwaha), and the Dreams-closest-to-Man (Tedetskasade)”

From The Mythology of the Wichita, P. 33

If you go downtown, you’ll see a sculpture called “The Keeper of the Plains.”

It’s almost 9 o’ clock when I get there, so large crowds have gathered to watch the ring of fire lit around its perimeter.

The statue was designed by indigenous artist and craftsman, Blackbear Bosin. Born in Cyril, Oklahoma, but living much of his adult life in Wichita, Kansas, Bosin was of Comanche and Kiowa descent and almost entirely self-taught as an artist.

When you come upon the Keeper of the Plains, standing tall on the fork of the Arkansas and Little Arkansas Rivers, you can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and sadness. It’s a striking statue, especially when set against the beautiful orange and lavender hues of the setting sun. But monuments like these end up reminding you of the Wichita peoples who were killed, displaced, driven from their land, and left to die in reservations, forgotten. The tribes that once lived here along the southern plains still show traces of their culture but now, you’ll see it mostly as a memory in a museum or as art hanging on the walls of a library.

I learned from a video by the Wichita Eagle that the last speaker of the Wichita language, Doris Jean Lamar, died back in 2016. It must be indescribably lonely to be the last speaker of a language. There is no one to have a conversation with, no one to whom you can confess your hopes or your regrets. But in the video, Lamar, even knowing that she is the last speaker, expresses hope that future generations will know what the language sounded like.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ScPkN_xGRI

Is forgiveness even possible when injustices are still committed today against native peoples everywhere?

Not enough can be said about the skies here, which seem at times so brilliantly marbled with peach and lavender colors that you begin to walk with your head perpetually craned upwards.

It’s this aspect, the overwhelming sense of the sublime, that will probably stay with me long after I’ve left Kansas.

I think again about the nature of dreams. It isn’t such a sin to dream about things, about things that haven’t happened yet, and about things that have happened. To quit dreaming seems too cynical, like admitting from the outset that everything is screwed, that you should stop trying.

During my stay here, I’ve met many people who aren’t so irony poisoned yet, people who are achingly sincere and kind. They haven’t stopped trying. There isn’t much room for cynicism here. I appreciate that a lot.

Farewell to you, Kansas, you and your clumps of cumulus and vast fields of cows and grass. I’ll see you again.

Check out Will’s music! It’s gloomy, melancholy, and LOUD!: https://teamtremolo.bandcamp.com/album/intruder

#diary #photoblog #photo diary #midwest #kansas #travel diaries

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halfwaythereroyalwrites · 4 years

Text

Destressing (Steve Rogers x Filipina!Reader Kilig One-Shot)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Filipina!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Unprotected sex (wrap it up in real life, but this is fiction sooo). Oral (M! Receiving). Fingering. Spitting. Rough. Possible secondhand embarrassment or stress. It’s a lot.

Word count: 2k+

Summary: Filipinx parties can be a lot, and Steve helps you destress before getting ready.

Kilig is a Tagalog word to describe the feeling of excitement and exhilaration and possibly embarrassment from anything remotely romantic.

Masterlist

______________________________________

The continuous pitter-patter of the locker room shower was echoing off the walls. It seemed the world was against you that day. Meetings ran late. People kept cornering you with questions. Your damn badge inexplicably stopped working resulting in a lengthy visit to IT. All of this misfortunate happenings added to the anxiety you were feeling about tonight: the night Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, would finally meet your family. Unfortunately, the invite was late. Late as in — you found out this morning. The reason for the party escaped your mind. Your family finds any excuse to throw a party, and now that they know you had finally snagged a boyfriend — especially one that is a national hero — they were really eager to finally meet him.

Surprisingly, Steve took the last-minute plans in stride despite your very frantic announcement, with you aggressively cornering Steve after a briefing and rambling at 100 miles an hour about a party at Tita Maria’s house. He was already dressed by the time you had to leave. You, on the other hand, decided to stay and workout in the gym instead before going home, trying desperately to rid your body of anxiety.

“Doll, we’re gonna be late. We still have to head home before going to your folks’ place.”

The squeak of the shower being turned off made Steve quietly sigh in relief. You appeared in front of him, wrapped in a towel, and dripping water all over the floor.

“First off, being late is fine. It’d actually be pretty weird if we showed up on time,” you explained, opening your locker and sorting through your clean clothes. “Second, I hate going to these things. They’re gonna love you. You’re their ideal man, but I am never going to hear the end of it! ‘Did you gain weight?’ ‘Did you get darker?’ ‘So when are you getting married?’ UGH! I hate these things,” you were visibly seething by the end of your rant. You plopped down on to the bench next to Steve who brought your head closer to place a kiss on your temple.

“Well I hope I’m your ideal man too, doll,” Steve mused.

“Of course you are. I just don’t like coming around there,” you pouted at Steve, placing your hand on his thigh.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Steve offered. You couldn’t help but scoff at Steve’s naiveté. He’ll never know the level of mind games these parties require, and the very thought of going wound your muscles as tight as a vice.

“Babe, you have no idea how Filipino families can be. It’s Game of Thrones but with brown people and better food,” you quipped. Your hand massaged the sizable knot forming on your shoulder. Steve took notice and gently pushed your hand away, massaging the knot himself while you closed your eyes and leaned against him. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, doll,” Steve comforted. Damn it. This man was too perfect to be true. You had been bugging him all day about how you were dreading seeing your relatives, and yet here he was, patient and perfect, as ever. You kissed his cheek in response.

“Steve…” You trailed kisses from his cheek to his perfectly-cut jawline to his neck.

“Uh…ye-yes, doll?” Steve croaked out, his eyes closing at the feeling of you placing open-mouthed kisses on his neck.

“Can you help me calm down?”

“Ye-yeah what do you…mmmgghh,” Steve groaned mid-question as your hand made its way onto his groin, massaging his dick through his jeans. His head knocked back in pleasure — a low growl emanating from his throat. You whimpered at Steve’s hand stopping you from feeling him. “We’re going to be late. Anyone could walk in right now.” Your hand continued grinding against Steve’s growing arousal. You nipped at his earlobe before whispering into his ear.

“Makes this all the more…exciting, doesn’t it?” As graceful as you could, you got up from the bench and stood in front of him. “Steve, trust me. We got time.” You dropped your towel, got on your knees, and caressed his thighs — glancing up at him through your eyelashes.

“You’re killing me, doll.” Smirking, your fingers made quick work of unbuttoning and sliding his jeans and underwear off of his muscular legs. You took his half-erect cock in your hands, pumping a few times before licking a hot stripe up the big vein on the underside. Steve took his shirt off. His hand gripped a fistful of your hair. His head knocked back, eyes closed in ecstasy at your actions, and a low groan rumbled from his chest. A couple drops of pre-cum dripped out of the tip of his cock. Your thumb circled around the tip, kissing and softly sucking. You started licking and sucking on his balls, hand still pumping his length, making more pre-cum drip out of his sensitive tip. Steve had his eyes locked on you, and yours on him. You licked up the large protruding vein before spitting on his cock and quickly taking his length in your mouth.

“…fuuckk,” Steve whispered. The power you felt from the sight of his head knocking back in pleasure and his whispered cursing was indescribable. His hands held your hair and guided you up and down his pulsing cock. His mouth was agape, in awe of the pleasure you were giving him. Your hand was pumping whatever you couldn’t take in your mouth. Your moans of pleasure would shoot the most delicious vibrations down his cock which would make Steve groan in response, gripping your hair tighter and whispering your name over and over again, pleading with you not to stop. The throbbing sensation in your pussy was becoming unbearable, and you used your free hand to rub circles around your swollen clit, quickly coating your hand in your own arousal.

Each small pang of pleasure from your own hand made you moan on Steve’s cock. Steve gently thrust his hips up and pushed your head down, urging you to take him deep into your throat. Bracing your hands on his thighs, you gladly obliged, letting his dick slide past the back of your throat. He moved your head up and down slightly, the salacious sounds of you sucking and choking on his big dick echoing in the empty locker room, making you wetter and Steve groan louder. He pulled you off his cock, breathing hard at the sight of you, mouth and chin dripping wet with pre-cum and spit. You traced some off your chin and licked your fingers, keeping your eyes firmly locked on him. Steve roughly grabbed your jaw and kissed you, wasting no time slipping his tongue in your mouth, tasting the remnants of himself.

“Get up,” Steve growled. As soon as you got off your knees, he pulled you on top of him, your knees resting on either side of his hips, his mouth placing open-mouthed kisses on the base of your neck. His arm was around your waist, keeping you pinned to him, while his hand groped and teased your breast. He trailed down to your other breast, switching between sucking, licking, nipping, tugging, and teasing. The way he switched between your breasts. The way he would lick and grope and nip and…God, this man was going to be the end of you. Your hand was tangled in his hair, and you couldn’t help but mirror Steve’s earlier actions and knock your head back at the sensation of his mouth on your tits. “Look at me.”

You stared into his eyes that were now seemingly dark in a lust-ridden haze. His large hands gripped your hips before pushing you down to grind on his hard cock. A loud moan escaped your throat, eyes closing at the delicious friction he provided. “No,” he grunted. “Keep your eyes on me. I wanna see your face as you grind on my cock.” His hand gripped your hair as your hips were grinding on him; his groans deep and guttural, stirring your arousal even more.

“Steve, I can’t-I can’t take it anymore. Please,” you pleaded with him, your hips moving faster against his cock.

“Please, what? Use your words, doll. Tell me what you want.” His fingers started circling your clit, heightening your pleasure and making you lose your breath. He dipped his fingers into your soaked cunt, coating his fingers in your arousal. He thrust his curved fingers in you a few times, softly stroking a spot that made you roll your eyes back in pleasure. He pulled his fingers out and licked them, never letting his gaze break from yours.

“Agh! Fu-fuck, Steve…I want your cock in me, please,” you pleaded with him. Steve lined his erection up to your pussy and slowly thrust inside, letting you adjust to his length. You moaned at the sinful, sensual stretch of your pussy as Steve’s cock bottomed out. You moved your hips up and down, slowly, before picking up the pace. Steve gripped his hands on your hips, watching you in awe, slightly helping you up and down as you rode him. Your fingers tightly wound into his hair and gripped his neck for support. He whispered sweet nothings to you, as you repeatedly slammed your hips down onto his, reveling in the pleasure and heat of the moment.

Steve’s patience ran out and eagerly took back control. He gripped your hips and roughly thrust into you at a fast-paced, almost brutally satisfying way. You couldn’t help the strangled cry that escaped your treat at the raw ecstasy overtaking every inch of your body. His fingers started circling your clit, tightening the coil of your pending orgasm. “Holy shit! Fuck Steve! I’m so close. So close. Steve. Steve. Steve please…ah…ah…fuck…oh mY GOD STEVE!” You collapsed on his chest, shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Steve’s arms circled around you, groaning at the feeling of your dripping pussy convulsing around his cock. He stroked your hair and rubbed your back as he waited for you to stop shaking, peppering your face with light kisses, whispering about how beautiful you look and how good you are doing. When your body had calmed down, Steve locked your lips into a passionate kiss. His lips moved against yours in a dance you knew all too well but could never get enough of. He pulled away and held your face in his hands. His thumbs caressing your cheeks, and your hands resting on his forearms. Steve took a moment to study you. Your pupils were dilated. Lips puffy. Your chest was still slightly heaving up and down, trying to calm down from your high. He placed a sweet peck on your lips and whispered

“You ok?” You bit your lip and nodded. There was no end to how perfect this man is. And he was yours. Steve Rogers was yours. He pulled you flush against him in an embrace. His deep, lust-ridden voice muttered into your ear. “My turn.”

To your surprise, Steve got up, keeping your body against his and slammed you against the lockers, being careful not to hurt you. You broke out into a fit of giggles before getting the breath knocked out of you from being pushed against the lockers. Steve adjusted your legs so that they encircled his hips, locking him in a vice grip. Steve groaned before thrusting his hips into yours at a rapid pace, gripping your hips. His hot breath fanning all over you as you clung onto him, lost in how fucking hot Steve was making you feel. Once again, you felt the tightening coil of your pending orgasm. “Steve, baby please. I’m so cl-close. Agh…agh…fuck!” Your breath was coming in short pants. Your nails dug into his shoulders. You screamed. Unfettered. Loud. Raw. You felt your orgasm wash over you in sweet, suffocatingly satisfying relief. Steve’s thrusts started losing their rhythm as your cunt convulsed around him. His breaths coming in hot, short pants now as well. He slammed his hips into yours, bottoming out, before pushing you against the lockers, making a loud slam that reverberated in the empty locker room. The intensity of his orgasm led to strangled, low groans by your ear, and his closed fist banged against the locker — the combined sounds making you moan. You felt his cum start to drip out of your pussy and onto your inner thighs. He thrust his cock in you a couple more times, bottoming out each time, before pulling out and setting your feet down on the ground.

You clung onto Steve for support, not trusting the strength of your legs. Steve picked up the towel you had dropped earlier and wiped you down, making sure to be gentle around your sensitive nub. “Ever the gentleman,” you quipped, grinning. Steve smirked at your smart comment, placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Ready to go now, doll?” Steve asked.

“Yes, I am,” you smiled. “But first, we have to shower.”

______________________________________

Masterlist

Requested by: @svetlana-beilschmidt

A/N: Let me know what you think and/or if you want to be added to my taglist!

Taglist: @peppermintvanillaa @fantasticcopeaglepasta @multifandomlife22 @thottiewinemom @princeabomination @svetlana-beilschmidt

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han-shinsuke · 3 years

Text

s a c h i r o h i r u g a m i x L u n a

Ⓝ︎Ⓞ︎Ⓣ︎ Ⓢ︎Ⓤ︎Ⓘ︎Ⓣ︎Ⓐ︎Ⓑ︎Ⓛ︎Ⓔ︎ Ⓕ︎Ⓞ︎Ⓡ︎ Ⓨ︎Ⓞ︎Ⓤ︎Ⓝ︎Ⓖ︎ Ⓡ︎Ⓔ︎Ⓐ︎Ⓓ︎Ⓔ︎Ⓡ︎Ⓢ︎

🔞🔞🌼🌼⚠️⚠️

“ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ'ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ sᴛᴏᴘ ᴄʜᴀsɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ”—the light, the heat.

🍁🍁🍁

“When will you stop?” Sachiro’s frequent question every time I dropped by in his unit. Instead of answering, I would just gave him my usual smile as I starts arranging his essentials in the cupboard. He develops this kind of habit after he lost his girlfriend and their two dogs in a car accident two years ago. Sachiro would question the actions he thinks inappropriate and useless. He’d also question his existence and why it was only him who survived the fatal car crash.

Sachiro stands on his feet and picks up the remote control of his theater television, “you should stop coming here, Luna, I am not your obligation.” He says as he turned off the t.v.

It was his habitual manner, driving away those who cares for him, shutting down every help that tries to sneak in his life.

“Once you get better, Hiro, you won't see this face anymore.” I was smiling wide when I told him the same answer I keep telling him but, deep down in my heart, I was crying.

I put the last can of processed meat on top of his other canned goods and closed the glass lead of the storage.

“I won’t get better, Luna, I’m a hopeless case.”

“No. You will, soon.”

“There are situations and people that love could not cure, Luna, why can’t you accept that fact?”

“Because it was love that saved you! Her love for you that I’d never be able to surpass! She saved you, Hiro! It's your dead girlfriend who sacrificed her life for you to live so, please, Hiro, value the life she willingly surrendered just for you.”

I turned my head immediately when my voice broke. I'm in haste of preventing more tears to come out from my eyes.

“Luna...” I did not respond to his call. I took few steps away from him and breathe out some heavy air. Calm down. Calm down. I keep telling myself.

“Excuse me, Sachiro, I need to bring your soiled clothes to the laundry station.”

I walked pass him once I finished gathering his clothes and my things. Even if he doesn’t want it, I would still help him and I will keep coming back.

“Drive safely,” I heard him uttered before the door shut closed.

🍁🍁🍁

The next day, I received a text from him asking if I could stay in his unit tonight. My lips pouted as I started typing my reply. Was it really him that wanted me to come over and spend a night in his home? That's new!

“Greatest martyr of this generation, Luna, Sachiro's fxck buddy!” I almost slap my officemate when she peek on my phone and teases me.

“Got problem with that, Olivia? Gosh! You're so loud!” I pressed the send button and put back the phone inside my drawer.

“I just can't believe you, Luna. You could date other men so why are you sticking with someone who can't even see your worth and efforts? You've been his friend since high school and from that point of your life, how come he didn't notice your feelings for him? Gosh! Good thing I never had a guy best friend and I'm not in your shoes, I can't imagine myself falling in love with a man like that!”

Me, too, Olivia. I never thought I would chase after the immovable, Sachiro Hirugami.

🍁🍁🍁

“hmmm...” I was gripping hard on the backrest of the couch while my core is being penetrated by Sachiro's member. I can't remember how or when we started. All I know is, I am loving every touch and kisses on my skin. His strength is dominating my small body. Giving cues and instructions of what I should do to return the pleasures he's letting me to feel freely.

“Gosh, Sachiro! Your moving so fast aahh~” I lost count of the times I had been calling his name since we started. My legs are shaking from being sprawled wide while he pounds me from behind. He was groaning and breathing heavily as he slams his shaft deep and hard into me, the head of his thing hitting the perfect spot.

“Fxck! Fxck! You're so hot inside aaaahh! Aaaahh!” I buried my head deeper against the softness of the couch. He's growing bigger inside me and I can't help but let out a mewl sound of pleasure.

Sachiro keeps slamming his hips against my buttocks. The slapping sounds of skin against skin are getting louder by each seconds. I thought he'd be contented with just thrusting in and out inside me but Sachiro squeezes my breasts harder. I winced from pain and for a moment, I wanted him to stop. Using my left hand, I tried prying his squeezing fingers on my nipple but Sachiro hastily pulls out his cxck from my cunt and without a warning, slams it inside my tight anusxx. A strange cold enveloped my body and little by little, a burning sensation started to follow. That's when I have realized that all the hot nights we've shared together, this was the first time Sachiro have had invaded another hole of my body.

“Sac–Sachiro don’t move aaahhh yet pleasee~” I was crying already before I could even realized it. We've never done analx before! Sachiro pulls out and slams in continuously, not minding how my body shakes from the burning pain.

“You’re aaahhh squeezing me hard aaahhh!” I cannot control this part of my body. I just feel pain and only pain. I can feel it too. My muscles clenching his pumping cxck.

Sachiro continues giving me heavy thrusts in spite of my cries and pleads to slow his pace.

“Sachiro pleaseee aahhh~ I–I can’t take more aaahh!” I yelped when he spanked my hips thrice and then groped my butt cheeks harder than the spanks he had given me.

My body dropped on the ledge of the couch’ backrest, my hands swinging with my body due to his heavy thrusts. I caught a glimpse of my frail situation from the glass door of his balcony. Never in my life I thought I would ended up being his slxt. I’m his best friend. His companion. His trusted ally. How did we end up here? With all my remaining strengths, I managed to withdraw his cxck from my butt and pushed him away while hiding my nakedness under his shirt I picked up from the side.

“Let’s stop!” I cried, hand slapping his hands when he tries snatching my body.

I looked down at his erection and it's still hard and pulsating at the same time. Sachiro stares down at me with his darkened aura. He's really intimidating.

“I’m close, Luna...” his voice rings like a growl, “Be a good girl and spread wide for me.”

When I’m about to snap at him, Sachiro snatches his shirt from my tight hold and pulls my right ankle while pushing me down the couch as he spread and bend my legs wide. My mouth parted when he dips his cxckhead on my entrance and shoves it deep.

I writhed from the suddenness of his actions and all I could do is bite down on the skin of Sachiro's broad shoulder as he starts pumping roughly.

My head tilts to every direction when he started kissing and licking my neck.

“Sachirooo~ I’m aahhh fertile... You can’t cum inside me aaahhh~” I positioned my palms on his biceps, ready to push him if he shows any signs of retracting his thing out from my cxnt.

“Fxck! I'll cum inside you, Luna aaahh! I don’t fxcking care if you're fertile or not aaahh!”

My eyes widened at his words. I started to panic when his thing throbs inside me. That's the signal! He's about to shoot all of his loads inside me!

“Aaahnnggh Noo, Sa–Sachirooo! Gosh! Don’t cum inside me aaahh! Fxck wait! Shxt!”

Sachiro pins my both hands on top of my head, restricting my will to fight.

“Lemme fill you up with my seeds, Luna hnnggghh~” And just like that, I'm shaking my head in disapproval. My body also shakes from his fast and deep thrusts. I'm nearing my climax and Sachiro won't even let me to get away.

I just lay on the couch with my trembling legs. Sachiro on top, pumping even better. Moments later, I can feel his warm loads shooting inside me, filling me up until it drips down from my core.

“You really can’t take all my seeds huh? Look, Luna, our juice overflows from your pinkish pusxy hmm~”

I didn't speak. I just lay underneath him, his weight still perched on my small frame, staringg blankly at the ceiling as I breathe heavily. I feel his fingers gliding under my chin and when he lifted my face, Sachiro rewarded my lips with soft and slow kisses. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, allowing his poking tongue to explore my insides.

.......................

“Sachiro.” I called his name softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed, his head laying above my lap.

I was sitting on his bed while he lays there, eyes closed. It's already two in the morning and we just finished pleasuring each other.

“Want me to sing a song?” I asked, smiling.

Sachiro nods his head and that serves as my cue to proceed.

• All For You

Artists: The Light The Heat

—song starts here— f l a s h b a c k s

You're the one I've waited all my life for

You're the one I'd lose it all and die for

And as the sun transforms into the moon

I pray we'd never lose the fire of our youth

—c o l l e g e d a y s—

Sachiro: Luna! I have a crush!

Luna: It's me, I know! I'm beautiful enough to be your crush.

Sachiro: so much confidence my friend! It isn't you. It's Janna of science department.

Luna: Tsk! What do you want me to do? Build you a bridge?

Sachiro: If that's possible? Why not?

I know I'll never stop chasing your heart

My love is yours to hold

Through every high and every low

Our love will only grow

And I'll be here when the sun sets

And I'll be here till our final breath

My love is all for you

—g r a d u a t i o n—

Luna: Congratulations, my friend!

Sachiro: Thank you, Luna!

Luna: Let's celebrate in your parents’ house, Hiro! I'm missing tita’s spaghetti bolognese.

Sachiro: Uh, I can't, Luna, I have a date with Janna.

Luna: What? You promised me, Hiro! You told me we would celebrate together!

Sachiro: We could do it tomorrow, Luna. Bye! See you tomorrow!

—e n d o f f l a s h b a c k s—

In the darkness, our love shines the brightest

When it's hardest, it won't paralyze us

When it feels like we have lost our way

We may bend, but darlin', we will never break

How long? I asked myself over and over again. How long do I have to endure all the pain? Why can't you see me the way I wanted you to, Sachiro? When will you realize that I keep loving you from the very beginning of our existence? We laughed together. We cried together. We succeeded together. But in the end, it isn't't me you want to spend your lifetime with. It would never be me.

Even as we wait for time to heal the broken parts

Our light will find a way where hope is dim and skies are blurry

Take my hand, and we will feel the wind upon our shoulders

Together, we are stronger

I’m sorry, Sachiro. I know you'll never forgive me after this but it's for your own sake. I would never let you destroy your life. You need help. You need shelter. And those I cannot provide alone.

I know I'll never stop chasing your heart

My love is yours to hold

I dialled a number in my phone. It took me months to think about this thoroughly and now I have decided to finally do it.

My love is all for you

It's all for you....

“He–ello? This is Luna, please ta–take him with you.”

I planted a soft kiss on his forehead, tears pouring heavily from my eyes. Sachiro smiles then open his eyes.

“Thank you, Luna. Thank you for not leaving me,” He whispers while wiping the tears away from my face.

🌼🌼🌼

Seven Years Later

Location: Talinn, Estonia

( mutter means mama/mother in german language)

( Meine Geliebte – My love )

“Mutter, Luna! Mutter, Luna!” I heard my son's voice yelling from outside. I almost dropped the plate I am wiping dry because of the tone he uses. It's so urgent and alarming.

I ran outside and I saw my son, biting his lip and I think he's about to cry.

“What is it, Vin?” I asked, eyes scanning our neighborhood, “where’s your sister? Where's Hedy?”

My son wraps his small arms around my waist and buries his face, “a woman took her, mutter!” he says, sobbing.

“Ssshh, stop crying, Vin, we'll find your twin.”

.......

I'm driving my audi as carefully as I could on the snowy road of Talinn, eyes looking at every corner and establishments I passed by in hope of finding my daughter and her abductor. I glanced on the mounted phone near the steering wheel and the tracker shows she's nearby but currently moving around a specific place in the town. My son's still sobbing from the backseat and I can't think of a better solution to calm him. Good thing I bought them a paired necklace with built-in gps in it. Almost eighty percent of youngsters are wearing the same thing as them to decrease the number of children's kidnap cases all over the world.

“Mutter, what's going on there?” Vin points a finger on the Russalka Memorial, wherein the sculpture of an Angel holding an orthodox cross, erected. A number of people starts to gather there. Out of curiosity, I stopped the car and climbed down the car with my son. Hedy might be there! I thought.

Few more steps and I'm close to the flock of crowds wandering around the bronze monument.

But, out of nowhere, the song I sung seven years ago, started playing all over the place of Kadriorg, Talinn. I stood on my spot, frozen. Heart pounding loudly. Then the crowd opens up, giving way through to the monument. There, I found my daughter giggling while the man I keep praying for to heal up until now is giving his own child a piggy back ride while being accompanied by a dog.

“That’s her, mutter! She's the one who had taken away my sister!” Vin exclaimed then run towards his sister.

Sachiro! I broke down in heavy tears, shoulders shaking as I cried loudly at where I stand. Alisa Haiba, one of our college friend is taking pictures of my daughter and her Dad.

Alisa hands Vin a chocolate and do a finger heart sign. She holds my son's hand and taps Sachiro's back, pointing my direction. Sachiro stops playing with Hedy. He put her down carefully and smiled at me.

Sachiro whispers something at Alisa and the latter nodded her head as a response. He, then, walks towards me. I took steps backwards and think of running but he caged me in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Sachiro! I’m so sorry for sending you in rehab! I’m so sorry for being so selfish!” I never cried so hard in my life. It hurts seeing him here but at the same time, I’m so glad that he's here, looking so fine and healthy.

Sachiro cups my face and adhere our foreheads. He breathes in my scent and I did the same. I missed him so bad!

“Ssshh, I understand, Luna. I should be the one asking for your forgiveness. You bears so much pain alone. A bad man don't deserve an angel like you. You keep saving me even if it's your reputation is at stake. I’m sorry, Luna, sorry for causing you so much pain.”

“I love you, Sachiro! I'll forever do!” I hug him tightly, afraid of losing him again. Sachiro hug me with same intensity and later on he did something unexpected.

Sachiro kneels in front of me, grinning and crying at the same time.

“Will you let me in again in your life, Meine Geliebte?” Sachiro pulls out a ring-sized handcuffs made of gold and adorned with tiny diamonds. He locks our ring fingers between the ring and says, “thank you for saving me, Luna, let me protect you and our children this time.”

🍁🍁🍁🍁

#sachiro x reader #haikyuu #haikyu #imagines #love #smut #sachiro hirugami

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alyosiuscreightonward · 10 months

Text

-part 3-

This bullshit with Derrick and Melouk is going down on a Monday afternoon. The previous Thursday was when Gallegos first introduced Derrick. It all started with me just leaving my house to go riding. Was it really going to be me enjoying my day or was there something else afoot?

Is this my life now,” I asked myself as I looked at what seemed like hundreds of red taillights on the highway in front of me.