I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

Summary: The last words your soulmate will say to you are tattooed on your wrist. 

Warnings: none besides swearing and a lot of sad stuff

A/N: hi everyone, maybe not the type of fic you wanted but i really wanted to challenge myself as a writer and write something that i would never typically write. honestly i could hardly do it i was an emotional wreck lol :// extended authors note here. Ethan’s version: Forget Me Nots.

Word Count: 14.9K+ || masterlist 

You waited until your fourteenth birthday to check what your wrist said.

You’d waited years until you really wanted to know, until you couldn’t wait, and then you waited some more. You never saw the point in finding out; you weren’t a fan of the future when your life was average and rocky, and you didn’t want anything to be set in stone, including the words you’d hear echoing in your head torturously after you’d lost the one you would love. So, you avoided the ink like the black plague and hoped that maybe if you didn’t know, it wouldn’t happen.

But then, you were twelve and you stood at the wake of your grandpa’s funeral with bloodshot eyes and a lawless hatred for the universe and you held your brother’s hand like it was a lifeline. From the corner of your eye you saw your mother cry hysterically into her hands and that was just too much for you, no matter how much you bit on your lip, no matter how much blood seeped into your mouth, no matter how much you clenched your jaw to hold back strangled sobs, you couldn’t hold it in, so you let it out. You shook your head and cursed your emotions, cursed your love for people, cursed your giant heart and the memories it held for the little old man who brought you to ice cream parlors every Sunday.

You curled in on yourself in the back of a church bench, wrapped your own weak arms around your own weak knees because you’d shoved away the affection of everyone else that night, because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that we spent our lives loving and losing and trying to deal with the aftermath of constant heartbreak. You were bawling into balled fists when you heard the creak of old wood beside you, and you feared it might be God himself coming to chastise you for your doubt, for your anger and your hostility.

But it wasn’t. It was your grandma, sweet as honey and warm as the sun, grinning softly as she rubbed a wrinkled hand down your back. You scrubbed away your selfish tears, humiliated as you stared at the woman that would suffer the most from it all, the woman who smiled in sympathy as she lost her soulmate. “Darling you’re going to flood the Sahara with all these tears,” she cooed, chuckling as you groaned.

“Gram, I don’t wanna go a Sunday without ice cream,” you whispered, sucking in your bottom lip.

“Who says you gotta?” she asked.

You shrugged and picked at a loose thread in your very prickly dress. “Fate.”

“Did fate kill all the cows and steal all the sugar?” she laughed, patting your thigh casually, and that stung more than anything–that your Grandma was cracking jokes for your sake when you were sure she was withering inside.

“Gram, it hurts,” you breathed, your words practically inaudible. “Please don’t act like everything’s okay.”

“But everything is, Sweetheart. I got all I need. I got closure,” she beamed. She yanked up her shawl sleeve and ran her finger over the veiny skin of her wrist. “Says ‘Don’t forget to feed Brutus while I’m gone,’” she grinned, still petting the ink where it marked her.

You weren’t quite sure how that could sugarcoat the fact that her husband was dead.

“He knows I forget. He knows me better than anyone else, and he just had said it as I sat in the hospital holdin’ his hand. Such a bittersweet feeling knowing you spent your life with the right person as they die, and Honey, I had your grandpa for forty-eight years; had him for long enough for him to know me and love me too. Everything is okay.”

Your eyes flooded once more and your nose stung. “What’d you say back?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion.

“Said 'Don’t forget to love me when you leave,’” she smiled, squeezing your leg painfully tight and you knew it hurt her. But then she was chuckling all raspy and saying, “Bastard. Gave him such a romantic tattoo, and all I have is this reminder,” with a laugh, waving her wrist.

-

So, you waited two more years to find out, itching with curiosity.

so this day came.

i’m fine.

it has been a fun journey (:

every single person who reblogs this

every

single

person

there are over 128,000 notes and i still got one

i reblogged this less than 2 minutes ago

HOLY FLYING FUCK HOW ARE YOU HUMAN–

IS THIS MAGIC !?

srsly tho this is absolutely a thing that dudes do all the f***ing time

like where if he knows a girl doesn’t necessarily want to give him a hug, he will trap her in this position in front of witnesses where she has 2 options- both of which are undesirable for her, while simultaneously desirable for him

if she doesn’t want to hug him, whatever she does, it will suck for her.

she can 1. say nah and be the fucking asshole in front of other ppl or 2. forsake her corporeal boundaries and allow unwanted intimate contact

So I was on the transit bus alone one time. This was my first time riding, and so already I was PETRIFIED. I sit down, pull out my ipod, and begin to play some games. This guy sits down next to me, and begins trying to have a conversation. I don’t really respond, I don’t even look at him, just give half-hearted “mhm”s and “oh”s, as I don’t want to be rude if he was just striking up a friendly conversation. He then asks me on a date.

Now, as I stated before, I already was absolutely petrified. My heart stopped and I didn’t know how to answer. So I just didn’t. He didn’t let up and I could feel his eyes on me. I quietly stammer out a “no thanks” and my stop HAPPENS to be coming up, so I pull the string thing to let the driver know I want to stop there, and once we stop and the doors open I get up and he asks me, “Well, can I at least have a hug before you go if you won’t go on a date with me?” 

This makes me break. There are now people staring, as we are the only people standing up and not getting off… So I just start crying. Hell, I am bawling almost instantly. He looks so fucking freaked out and people are now getting up to come over and comfort me/question him. I don’t stop crying, and he keeps trying to comfort me by touching me, and people are yelling at him for that. 

AND THEN. AND. FUCKING. THEN. THE GOD DAMN BUS DRIVER. A VERY EASILY 6 FOOT BURLY MAN. COMES OVER TO US. PULLS THE GUY AWAY. AND KNEELS DOWN. HE THEN ASKS, IN THE MOST CALM VOICE, “Did you request the stop?” I very slowly and shakily nod, as I am still crying my eyes out. He then asks, “Do you want to get off?” I give a quiet “mhm” and nod once again, and he offers me his hand. I take it, he stands up, and he escorts me off the bus. He asks me questions such as where I was going next, if I was going to meet someone shortly, if I was going to transfer buses from there. He was very polite and waited for me to answer the entire time, and my friend (who I was going to be meeting there) showed up. He asked me if this was someone I knew, I said yes, and he said alright, have a good day. He then told me- and this is something stuck in my mind forever, so it is word for word-

“If some guy EVER starts harassing you like that again, do exactly what you did there. Cry. Cry and scream and have a temper tantrum. Not only will it throw him off, but it will get others to notice. They might not interfere, they might, but you will have gotten their attention and if you happen to go missing the next day the search for you will be a hell of a lot easier because everyone in that location will have seen you screaming and crying with a guy now very awkward with his actions. They will know. That is what my daughter did, and three days after she went missing she was back in my arms. I pray for you and every other person like you who has this done. You stay safe now, okay?” And after I began blubbering again, I nodded and he left.

It: 1. Gives them a sense of urgency in the situation, as the eye contact is a way to make them feel as though you are personally asking for their help and it is now their obligation to help. 2. Contains words so that if you’re in a public place but people aren’t necessarily watching, then they (as natural evesdroppers) can overhear the attention-grabbing words and then notice the situation. Note, this does NOT mean that they will come for help, but you might be able to look someone in the eye (as previously mentioned) or just get some people’s attention. 3. It shows that you have fight in you. As with rapists, those who are physically aggressive (ie. these huggers) choose women they see as an easy target. The moment you show them you are going/willing to fight them, they are less likely to continue. Sadly, this is not always the case, but every little bit helps.

So I used to be hot when I was young. I mean, model hot, because I actually used to model. Even now, I’ve let myself go on purpose because I was tired of the harassment. But I fit a UK size 6 with a pert ass from volleyball and a cup c breast. As you can imagine, I couldn’t wear anything or go ANYWHERE without being harassed. I sometimes even happened in church.

Anyway, I’m not a shrinking lily, and when I get angry enough I can do some crazy shit. So here are some of my coping mechanisms:

1) find a matronly looking lady, run up to her with ‘aunt may! I haven’t seen you in ages! ’ then whisper ‘please help he’s harassing me!’. 99.9 times out of 100, she will be scandalised and help you anyway even if she’s annoyed or in a hurry. If no older lady is available, find a younger one, or a nun, or a trans lady. We of the sisterhood know what it is to be harnessed, and I guarantee if you look frightened enough, they will help.

2) If you are out alone at night, and someone is following you, spot a house or apartment where the lights are on and knock, asking ‘mum’ or ‘dad’ or ‘john’ to let you in. Even if the people inside are annoyed, odds are they won’t turn you away, and you can phone someone to pick you up, or phone the police from a safe space

3) Make noise. Cry and scream loudly, call them out ‘i don’t know you and you are terrifying me! Please get away from me!’ if there are people around. Even if they don’t help directly for fear of their own safety, someone around you is calling security or 911.

4) speak a foreign language. If you know it, speak the language to them fast and incessantly, like you have just met someone you knew and you’re just giving the best performance rant of why your OTP is the best OTP. Make yourself ANNOYING. Think about what would be awkward and annoying to you and make it what you do to them. If you make them think YOU are something to get away from they will leave you in peace.

Now beware, the following ones are the CRAZY ones and may not always work. But they are a valid last resort:

5) stare at them. Stare at them like you’re hungry and they are a hapless deer you’re going to tear to pieces. Like yours the girl from the ring emerging from the TV to kill them. Don’t smile, don’t change your expression. DON’T BLINK. Hold their state like you’re Wednesday Adams about to do unspeakable things to a spider, and they are the spider. Even the most courageous of stalkers balk at this, but if they don’t…

6) Use the Hannibal Lector. After staring at them for and extended period of time (imagine all the things that have made you scared, imagine you could get revenge on them for putting you here, that’s the thought you need to have), if they are getting closer to you, whisper something like ‘i would fry your liver in garlic’. Even the hardiest ones will be taken aback, but keep it up while making sure you don’t let the others hear you. Things like, occult star readings requiring blood, wondering whether he is the offering the spirits sent. If you’re on this site you’ve read some weird shit at least once. Tell him that. Tell him you would like him to meet your lord, Vlad the Impaler, who requires much blood to be appeased. Be a stereotypical ‘crazy bitch’ like they see in the movies. Believe it or not, this has worked for me twice.

Above all, banish the notion that you have to be polite.

They were impolite by approaching you. If you can, ignore them. If you are not alone, pointedly put headphones in your ear, and don’t make eye contact, wait for them to realise that ‘youre a bitch anyway’ and move away. If you are alone, evade and find places and ways to fix that as soon as POSSIBLE.

Never underestimate the power of a good “EXCUSE me????”

Legit. It makes people STOP IN THEIR TRACKS. This is the one I whip out when people start swearing at me over the headset and always, without fail, they stop what they’re saying, shocked.

Go for offended, and go for loud. Not yelling loud, but giving-your-best-presentation loud. “EXCUSE me??? You approached me two minutes ago, I don’t even know your name, and you want WHAT? Creep.”

For one, the presentation will shock them. For another, that indignant tone? EVERYONE AROUND YOU IS GOING TO WANT TO LISTEN TO THIS JUICY SHIT.

Now the second key here is, DON’T LET HIM JADE (justify, argue, defend, explain). He smiles and goes “I just wanted–” FUCKING INTERRUPT HIM. Firmly. Irritably. “I heard what you wanted, and I’ve already declined once. Maybe you should go back to kindergarten where they teach you no means no.” Run right over the fucker. He’s not respecting your words, you don’t need to respect his.