I will wait in perpetuity for an update, if need be. But I have faith that you will find your stride and bash this mofo out. And it'll be glorious because you're glorious 🌟
😭😭 thank you buddy!! I swear it’s coming. I have 15k for the next chapter but it’s all a hot mess of unconnected scenes, so, hopefully I find some time and peace of mind to work on it.
D ==> Mostly. A lot of the stupid abuse I faced in my growing life was indeed from women. Not the women i let in my life obviously. Not human women either, in fact the state of their rights offends me greatly because what the hell D ==> But. Alternian women. It may be just a byproduct of my timeline, and my days in court. Serving days, but. D ==> Every punisher I ever met, every warrior worth note, every powerful political head was a woman. To be a young troll, a young man on alternia it was. D ==> Terrifying. D ==> You where weaker, smaller(again though, it may be my timelines issue) and generally not as valuable as a woman was D ==> You had better have your manners down to a t, and never complain. You ought be someones trophy mate instead. Go play little boy. D ==> My story isn't as valuable as a lowbloods as it was still a privileged life I lead by being born blue as the deep sea but D ==> I still feel. Sometimes we ought be a little kinder to *our* boys too.
Wow. I'm doing this transfer thing really slowly. O.O ANYWAY.
Title: Everything For You
Rating: Everyone
Synopsis: Shouldn't a father do everything he can for his daughter? Written for a challenge to "humanize" Handsome Jack. Ew. Please see my author's note.
Warnings: Not really..
Original Date Posted: 8-27-13
The man who called himself Handsome Jack sat alone in his office. The only light came from a small lamp on his desk, and the corners of the room were obscured in shadow. He held a glass of amber liquid in his hand, shaking it gently to hear the clink of the ice inside. The lamp’s light caught the ice and sparkled on it, and he gazed into the glass as if it would hold all the answers. Things were getting complicated now. He knew he could overcome any difficulties the pitiful resistance could throw at him, but something had changed. Something that he hadn’t planned for.
His employees had all gone home for the night, but still Jack remained. He had no home to go to, not really. Sure, he had an opulent place to lay his head at night, full of all the luxuries and amenities any man could ever ask for, but it didn’t feel like home.
There had been no home for him since his own child had killed the love of his life. It was an accident, a toddler’s rage against the authority figure who dared to challenge her. In a normal home, it would have been another unremarkable incident, but normal homes don’t house tiny, rebellious Sirens.
He still loved his daughter fiercely. The power he had over her- well, that was for her own good. The poor child had to grow up without a mother, and Jack did his best. Someone had to take care of her, keep her from harming herself, and who better than her father? If he had to control her, he had to control every part of her. Her actions, her experiences, even her thoughts. Tell a person the same thing enough times, and they will believe it from the very depths of their soul. He’d only told Angel the truth- she could not survive without him.
And she couldn’t, he knew that. She couldn’t control her power without her father’s help, and he would not let harm come to her. Ever. He’d found this planet, this Pandora, and it was perfect for her. When his daughter was born with those telltale blue tattoos, after the first time she lashed out to hurt her helpless parents with powers an infant couldn’t possibly understand, he’d begun reading everything he could find about the legendary Sirens.
Pandora held the key, but his precious girl couldn’t live on a planet like that. Not with all those degenerates, those bandits crawling all over the surface like so many cockroaches. Destruction, chaos, bloodshed. These were the words that described life on Pandora, and these were words he never wanted his Angel to experience the truth of.
So for her own good he used her to dupe the idiot vault hunters. Her beautiful face, her beautiful voice…how could anyone ever doubt that she was anything but who she claimed to be? And just as he had planned, they swallowed every word. After the vault opened, his rise to power within the Hyperion Corporation had been slow, but assured.
For Angel, he would do anything. For Angel, he would conquer a world. He told her that, time and again, but something was wrong. He’d made a mistake somehow, somewhere, because his daughter was turning against him. Had he praised her at some point when punishment would have been more effective? Had he allowed her to see too much of the outside world? Where had his control broken down?
He stared into the ice, thinking of the tears that had sparkled in his wife’s eyes before she took her last breath. They’d looked so much like this. With a sudden violent motion, he threw the glass across the room where it shattered on the marble floor. He buried his head in his hands. All the power, all the money, it wouldn’t bring her back, and it couldn’t make his baby girl love him again. Everything he did, he did for her, and if it indirectly benefited him, was that so bad? Of course not. Why would it be?
But every time she called him “Jack” instead of “Daddy”, it hurt him inside. Once he had been her world, but it seemed her world had expanded. Hadn’t he told her enough that this was all for her? Could she really be so foolish? So ungrateful?
It didn’t matter. She would understand in time. If she hated him for a while, well, he could take it. Someday she would understand the sacrifices he had made for her. Someday she would be his little girl again.
Christmas isn't a time for razor blades But my heart doesn't beat to the calendar's rhythm (It's been twelve years 146 months And 9teen is a distant cry From thirty1 But I think I learned some tricks Over time 187 lines Later Though you're not the 1st thing I think of anymore I've not won By far I stopped counting the days At least Sometimes I still wake you from your metal box Sometimes I finger this obsession) Skin cries when eyes can't But your sweet kiss is not Reason enough to give in
my entire life, i hated my body
being overweight didn't bother me, it was all the stretchmarks
i'll be the first one to say that my body is tattered up. everywhere.
and even though i'm much more accepting, i still get uncomfortable
if people really saw me, they would stare. it's fair enough. i would stare too.
most would probably be disgusted as well.
from my breasts to my lower torso, i have not been spared.
front and back; everywhere
it's not an exaggeration. i'll show you if you want proof.
time has passed, but the scars will remain forever
thankfully, because i've been like this since i was like, 11, all of my stripes have faded to a nice silver color
changing in front of other girls has always been an issue
i envy the unmarked, smooth skin i see on a day to day basis
the human body is really beautiful, to me, atleast
and even though i'll never be able to restore my skin to its original form, i can still appreciate the fact that my body has lugged my fat ass around for the past 20 years ^o^
i don't know, i guess it's time to talk about it. seeing as i've been hiding it like it was some dark secret that i should be ashamed of
I can't really be ashamed
it started when i was so young. i didn't even know what a stretch mark was, and i sure as hell wasn't expecting them everywhere
i do feel bad about neglecting my body though, which is ultimately how i ended up in this position
but there's no need to feel shame. i didn't ask for this
it's my body, i have to live with it - not anyone else
my appearance shouldn't affect anybody else
i'm sorry if it's not aesthetically pleasing, and you find my textured and scarred skin revolting.
but you can just fuck right off
it took me 20 years to love myself, my silver rivers and all
i've grown into my womanly shape, and i actually think i'm kind of cute!
(may be an unpopular opinion, but you can't please everyone!)
that's pretty lucky, if you ask me
You, as a symbol, are everything I don't miss about hating myself.
You see, before we met, and for long enough after, my perception of my worth was based mostly (or entirely) upon the perceptions of the people surrounding me; people like you.
Sometimes it still is, Trevor. There are mornings when I wake up and I think to myself, "Dear God, what do I have to wake up for today?" Those are the bad mornings. The good thing about bad mornings are that they are infrequent enough at this point that I am able to distinguish them from normal mornings. And interesting fact about who I am today as opposed to who I was when we met is that I don't let bad things be normal for me.
You are not a nice person, Trevor. I don't imagine that you think you are, nor that you are often pre-occupied with the notion that "nice" is something you should aspire to be. Maybe, in the time since the time when we knew each other, this has changed. I, however, doubt it. Your world is a simple, if indulgent , one, and that suits you just fine. We don't really have that much in common in this sense. I'm pleased for you that the prospect of being a "bro" and living a life of self-indulgent vanity and thinly-veiled misogyny has been enough to sate you thus far. If one morning, you should wake up and find yourself wishing to be a folk lyricist or study theoretical physics or aid in a humanitarian effort, power to you. I don't expect you will, however, and more importantly, you do not expect it of yourself as no one has ever told you, at least in a sense that held some permanence, that exactly who you are and what you are doing at the moment, is not good enough.
Things is, Trevor, I have been told that...more importantly, I have been telling myself that my entire life.
You, Trevor, you and people like you, sometimes seem immune to empathy. I don't know how long, if not always, you will act that way. There's a certain privilege in having all that you have wanted gifted to you, a certain privilege in growing up entirely aware of just how special you are. And there is a certain privilege in the freedom I have since awarded myself in deciding to no longer allow myself to be subject to your judgments; to no longer grade myself on a scale decided by my fear of you.
You weren't supposed to know I was weak, Trevor. There's a whole process, a whole act created to cover that weakness up. But you figured it out...and when you find yourself aware of just how weak another person is...maybe... could you give it a moment before you take advantage of that? Could you take a moment to think, "Oh shit, perhaps by some coincidence, there is more out there than what is contained inside of my mind, more than what effects me, more than what I want and what I chase. Maybe, you, in your weakness, matter too. Maybe one day, someone will love you, or want you, or chase you because there is something that you have that no one else should seek to destroy or evolve, to hide or to imitate, because it is you. Because you, before me now, do not matter to me, but you are a person, and that is enough."
I wish that for you, Trevor.
But I don't think about you much anymore. Every now and then, there'll be a trigger, or a symbol or sign. A photo, maybe. And I'll remember.
God, I wish you knew.
I wish you knew how much that hurt me.
And though I've yet to forgive myself for being such a bundle of weakness or fear that you, in absolute contingency to my life were able to hurt me, I have forgiven you. I forgive you only as I am able to forget, as the lines blur and the people change, and what held relevance then seems silly now.
Don't remember me, Trevor. I don't want to be in your memories any more than I want you to be in mine. But I won't thank you, as I felt I should then, for clarifying my objective worthlessness. You were wrong. I was wrong. You are a symbol of everything I had learned to hate about myself, and I'm dismissing that. With this, I dismiss you.
Goodbye, Trevor.
I hope you find something you love more than yourself, something that it won't be easy to get, and something worth fighting to keep,
Day 01 - Your current relationship. If singe, discuss how single life is.
To not have anyone constantly occupy a portion of my brain (not to mention my heart), is awfully nice, I must admit. Setting aside the time spent on a significant other leaves me with plenty for myself (which I think is important right now). I'm not worrying about one particular person, I'm not as self-conscious, I am, for lack of a better word, free.
On the downside, I'm lonely. I have nobody to readily talk to, nobody to relate to, nobody that will show an earnest interest in me, etcetera.
In the pros and cons to being single, one doesn't outweigh the other. Having someone would entail fear of the end of being with that person; not having someone would entail fear of dying alone.
Of course I don't want to die alone, but I take relationships too seriously. After someone says "I love you," and the feeling is mutual, nothing is the same. Since the end of my last relationship, I have not been able to cry. Sentimentalism seems to have vanished in me.
I haven't shown much initiative to gain a relationship, and that makes me question whether I truly want one. I'm also reclusive, so there goes most of my chances.
As of now, I'm content with falling asleep cuddling my pillow.
