#I haven’t rambled about it much yet until now but it feels like mind rape to me even if that’s dramatic I don’t generally experience the

[takeyourdailydoseofcyanide]

they were already incredibly suspicious to me, every last one of those supposed “professionals.” i think I’m more suspicious than I ever was now - somehow that was possible. I’m even more apprehensive, perhaps even fearful.

solidarity between people who want to take psychiatric meds to function and those who don’t.

What’s important is that we both have autonomy, informed consent and safe access to treatments we want, and to not be forced, coerced or pressured into those we don’t.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Hypothetically

A/n: I hope you all enjoy this! Ive never written something like this so I’m hoping I did this respectfully (so sorry if this is a little short)

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: mentions of sexual abuse/rape

Requested: by anonymous 

Tag List: @distrikt9​ @mini-meanhoe​ @poeticallyspaghetti​ @hanstagrams​ @desertofdessert​ @hoes4hoseok​ @yangomangos​ (Tag List is Open)

Summary: Chan is the best boyfriend. But, some things you just can’t talk about. When you finally confront Chan about a secret about your past you’ve been keeping you have no idea how he’ll react. 

Genre: angst, fluff, romance

❉

There was no reason to be anxious. Chan was wonderful. He was more than wonderful. He was....he was Chan. I had never met someone like him. Someone caring, and loving, and understanding. We had only been dating for eight months but it felt like I had been with him for years. 

I had forgotten being in a relationship could feel this good. I had been avoiding them for so long after...what had happened before. Chan never pushed me. He always seemed to pick up on cues I didn’t know I was giving. But, there was always this doubt in the back of my mind. 

Eight months. By now, in any relationship, a man would be expecting much more than simply nights shared together. I was too scared to give him even that. Chan never showed or hinted that he was impatient or that he wanted to sleep with me. In fact, I don’t even think the subject had ever been brought up. There was no doubt in my mind he was waiting for it though. 

There was no way he had the working parts of a man and he wasn’t getting the urge to jump on top of me after eight months. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sleep with Chan. I did. Very much. The man was essentially walking sex looking like he did all the time. But, giving him that, would mean me being vulnerable in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready to do again.

My car came to a stop at the back of JYP Entertainment. Throwing it into park I looked up at the building. My nerves were twisting themselves into tightly wound knots. There is no way I would know how Chan felt if I didn’t ask him. 

I thought the drive from my apartment to the studio would be enough time to figure out what I was going to say to my boyfriend. But, here I sat. The perfect definition of an idiot; staring up at the menacing building waiting for it to sprout legs and chase me down the streets of Seoul. 

“Come on,” 

My words did not help the tightness growing in my chest. Memories I had pushed down were beginning to resurface. Instinctively my hands flew to my neck as if trying to pry off the hands wrapped around it. The hands of a ghost I had long since thrown out of my life. 

“Breathe. Just breathe.” I whispered. My fingers wrapped around my wrist, searching for my pulse. A steady but quick beat thumped against my fingers. After taking another deep breath, I opened the door and got out of the car. 

Hands shaking, I swiped the ID card Chan had given me about a month ago. The loud buzz of the door pulled me further away from the painful thoughts I chose to leave in my car.

My feet carried me on the familiar path to the small studio where I tended to spend any free moment I had these days. It was weird being in the building in the day time. I wasn’t used to nodding at people in the hall as I walked to Chan’s studio.

Music floated through the closed door at the end of the hall. Heartbeat pounding in my ears I reached for the door pushing it open. His head turned at the sound,  a bright smile filled his face. His long fingers pushed down the headphones to rest around his neck

“Y/n! What’s up baby girl?”

My purse landed on the couch behind him. “I need your advice.” Chan blinked a few times, but turned and gave me his full attention. In hopes of releasing some of my nervous energy, I began pacing in the small room. “So, I have this friend,” I started.

Chan nodded watching me pace with a gentle smile. “Is this your friend from class?” He asked sitting back in his chair. I stopped and looked at him, before continuing my pacing at a slower speed. 

“Uhh...no. Different friend. Her name is-uh...Mia...” My eyes looked at Chan to see if he noticed anything. He still seemed interested and none the wiser. “Anyway, uh, Mia- She has this boyfriend. His name is... Chris....stian. His name is Christian.” Chan nodded and watched me lean against the wall.

My hands fiddled with the hairband on my wrist, still needing something to do. “But, they’ve been together for almost a year. She was telling me she was really nervous because she hasn’t you know...slept with him yet. And I- Mia...thinks that Christian even though he never says it, is just waiting for her to let him sleep with her.”

“So, what’s the problem again?” Chan asked with a little laugh. His dimples made an appearance, making my heart skip a beat. 

“See the thing is she hasn’t been intimate with anyone for a really long time. It’s not like she’s bad at it or anything. Believe me- she’s very good. I mean. She told me, that she was good.” Chan laughed, interrupting my rambling. “But she hasn’t you know had sex in a really long time. Christian is her first boyfriend in years. It’s just that her last boyfriend wasn’t exactly....a good person.”

Again I looked to Chan. He sat, listening intently. “It was hard for her to talk about. She doesn’t want to tell him, because...she’s embarrassed and she afraid to be vulnerable. She just doesn’t want to get hurt like what happened to her the last time.” 

“What exactly happened to her that she’s so afraid to tell him or be with him? If he loves her and she loves him it shouldn’t matter.”

My cuticles suddenly became very interesting. He made a good point. Even though I had never said it, I was in fact completely in love with Chan. It was probably why I was obsessing over telling him about what happened.

“Her ex was fine when they started dating. But one night, he took it too far. She said she begged for him to stop...and he didn’t. Instead, he held her down by her neck until he was finished. She thought that it was maybe just a heat of the moment thing. Just something that would happen one time and she could forget it. Leave it as a mistake. But it happened again. And again. She would tell him to stop. He wouldn’t. He would hold her down. Hurt her when she wouldn’t do what he wanted.”

Chan stayed silent. 

“She felt like she couldn’t tell anyone. She thought, ‘it’s not rape if we’re dating right?’. It was consensual... at least in the beginning. She is just so afraid of being that vulnerable with him. She knows that he would never hurt her, but...” I shook my head, shaking myself out of the trance I had slipped into. “Mia asked me to put myself in her shoes. But, I don’t know what to do. If this was you and me...what would you do? Hypothetically.” 

I searched his eyes for any sort of thought or judgment, but he simply stared at me, hands folded in his lap. After a moment, Chan stood up and came to stand in front of me. 

“Hypothetically...I would tell you that I love you. I would never hurt you. And that you know you can always talk to me about anything.” His warm hand wrapped around mine, bringing it up to his lips. “Hypothetically,” He began again. “I would never make you do anything you don’t want to. I wouldn’t care about sex. I would care about you.”

“You really mean that?”

“Hypothetically, yes I do,” Chan said with a smile, kissing my hand again. 

I laughed, leaning my head against his chest. “When did you figure out I wasn’t talking about friends?” 

He sighed wrapping his arms around me. “It wasn’t very hard.” 

I felt safe wrapped up in his arms. “You really don’t care that we’ve been together for so long and we haven’t had sex?” Chan shrugged kissing the top of my head.

“I could care less. I respect you enough to wait until you’re ready and no earlier.” For a moment he just held me in his arms. “I’m really sorry that happened to you. I wish I had known sooner.” 

I looked up at Chan and kissed him, my hands pressing against his chest. “So, do you love me hypothetically? Or actually?” Chan smiled, holding onto me even tighter. 

“I love you. Actually.”

❉

Requests are temporarily closed, but open soon!

Masterlist

[spencersawkward]

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 3

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

word count: 4k

content warnings: mention of rape and victim-blaming (talking about Clea's previous job in sex crimes— not her personal experience).

masterlist

this chapter is drawn from the season 1 episode 17 episode "A Real Rain," which is supposed to be in New York, but I didn't wanna write about New York so I changed it to Boston.

I drop a second sugar packet into my coffee before taking a tentative sip. my face twists in discomfort. previous to working here, I would bring my own thermos from home and it would last me all day, but I've had to up my caffeine intake to two or three cups.

"you get used to it." JJ walks over to me, steeping her tea. despite the fact that it's early, she's perfectly put together. her hair is tied up and her eyes are sparkling.

"how?" I laugh. she points to the coffee pot, which is fresh and yet somehow tastes slightly stale.

"when you've been up for twenty four hours, you won't care how it tastes."

I avert my widened eyes at this.

"you could do what Spence does and just add a bunch of sugars." she tilts her head towards Reid, who is rocking back in forth in his spinny chair with a huge volume open in front of him. he doesn't even notice us staring at him.

"ew, what?" I giggle. JJ nods.

"hey, Spence!" she calls across the office. his head pops up to frown at us.

"yes?"

"how many sugars do you use?"

"five. occasionally six." he says this without a hint of the shame it deserves. my eyebrows shoot up and I take another sip of the bitter drink, trying to ignore the taste. it coats my tongue.

"see?" she smirks. "just so you know, we have another case. meeting in five." she sashays away to the conference room, leaving me standing there with an overwhelming urge to sweeten my drink. I keep it at three and add a splash of creamer to drown out the bitterness, then walk briskly to my desk to grab a few of my things.

"we have a meeting, Reid." I say across the divider between our spaces. he holds up an index finger, slams the book shut, and grabs his things. I wait for him to get collected before we head up.

"what were you reading?" I ask, peeking at his workspace. books are lined up against the divider, loose papers scatter the surface, and there are three uncapped pens littered about. his disorganization surprises me.

"War and Peace." he replies, checking his watch.

it's not even nine am.

...

I'm staring out the window of the jet while Morgan and Prentiss battle out yet another card game with Reid. there's not much to see until we slice through clouds and fly over Boston, which is glittering in the early light. I sigh and turn back to my book, tucking my legs up beneath me.

"this is not how I planned to visit." Morgan notes, looks through his cards.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Boston." Spencer smiles softly. at this, all of us look up.

"you've never been?" Morgan asks doubtfully. Emily snorts.

"we've never had an unsub there." Reid doesn't seem to think this strange at all. Morgan and I share a glance before he speaks.

"Reid, it's an hour-and-a-half flight."

"I'll show you around if we have some time." Emily smiles reassuringly at the boy genius.

"it's an easy trip, man." Derek chuckles. Spencer isn't bothered by our teasing. instead, he draws another card from the deck and focuses on his game.

"I've never been either." I state. the team turns to me with surprised expressions, causing my cheeks to flush.

"you, too?" Morgan makes a face like I've disappointed him.

"I've been meaning to go." I shrug. "there's an exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts that I wanna see."

"what exhibition?" Spencer doesn't look up from his hand.

"uh, Titus Kaphar." I haven't had the opportunity to travel much, so a lot of the art I've seen has been from a computer screen or in class in college. it would be nice to actually get some experience seeing things face-to-face.

"Shifting the Gaze!" Spencer's face snaps up to beam at me, referencing the piece so vehemently that it makes me laugh.

"yeah, exactly."

"I went to his talk a couple years back."

"no way. really?" I shut my book and lean forward while he nods. Prentiss and Morgan are watching our conversation like a tennis match. while Reid rambles about all the things he heard at the lecture, I listen intently. it's good, because I don't really feel like talking right now; my head is pounding all over again, and this is distracting.

"do you ever go to the art museums in DC, then?" I ask once he's finished. Reid gets this crooked smile on his face like he wants to say a bunch of things, but is holding his tongue. his face is animated when he tells me about the other exhibits he's seen at the Smithsonian and apparently abandons his cards. Prentiss and Morgan have lost interest in our conversation; they start their own game and let us talk for the rest of the flight.

when we touch down, I immediately feel overwhelmed by the crush of people around us. our first crime scene is a taxi cab in Hyde Park, where the driver has been blindfolded, shot in the chest, and stabbed right through his ear. the blade, broken off from the handle, is lodged in his brain.

despite the fact that his kills are violent and seemingly random, the unsub definitely isn't disorganized. he carries his MO out the same way each time, which makes all of us question if we've missed a connection between victims.

"it's possible he's a sort of serial killer groupie." Spencer notes as he examines the inside of the cab, which is splattered with a mix of rainwater from the night before and blood. I shift where I'm standing to try to follow his line of sight.

"what do you mean?"

"Lawrence Bittaker and Roy Norris drove ice picks into their victims' heads and broke off the handle." he explains.

"well, if he's doing that, then he's presenting a mixed profile." I frown.

"exactly."

"mixed profile?" the police officer next to me asks.

"yeah. the fact that this guy is shooting his victims first suggests that he needs a quick and effective means of controlling the situation, which means that he probably doesn't think he can overpower them." I say.

"he could have a physical problem-- or maybe he's just not confident because he's small." Reid is still examining the taxi for any further evidence, but it seems sort of pointless.

"plus, he's organized and hunts at night. that tells us he most likely has a steady job."

"so," the cop stares between us with a perplexed expression. "we're looking for a small, angry white guy with a day job?"

the sarcasm in his voice makes me smile a little.

"I know it doesn't narrow down a lot right now, but we know that this guy isn't blitz attacking his victims. it's more of an execution."

the officer nods at this and my phone buzzes in my pocket. I turn to Reid.

"we gotta go."

Spencer nods curtly, straightens, and starts to immediately walk back to the car. I shake my head at his behavior, then follow after.

...

we get called to visit a new crime scene in the morning, this time in a church. Hotch holds the door open for me and I walk in to see a body laid out in front of the pews. an older woman sits towards the back, comforted by a nun.

"how'd they find him?" Prentiss asks the police chief as she leads us to the victim.

"night janitor." she nods to a man being questioned by cops in the corner.

"did he see anything?" I ask her.

"no, but he remembered a parishioner who was here earlier," we walk past the older woman. she stares at us expectantly as the chief talks. "so there could be a potential witness."

we stop at the body of a priest, his eyes covered and a blade lodged in his skull, unsurprisingly. Emily and I stare down at him, realizing the same thing.

"first public killing." she notes as she bends down to examine his wounds. "he's getting bolder."

"the presentation is just as important as the kill." I join her on the ground, snapping my gloves tighter on my hands and turning his head to the side to get a better look at the blade. semi-dried blood coats the tied fabric around his eyes.

"I'm gonna go talk to that woman." Emily leaves. the crime scene agent crouches down on the ground across from me, and I bite my lip before making a strange request.

"would you mind... sliding that thing out of his ear?"

the agent blinks at me in disbelief, probably not wanting to pry a knife out of someone's head, but nods and does so carefully. I squint down at the wound. then I realize something.

"Reid?" my voice carries across the room. Spencer is talking to an officer when he hears me and walks over.

"this doesn't look like a normal blade, but I don't know what it is." I point at the now half-buried weapon. it sits unpleasantly out, the blood catching warm light. Spencer gets down next to the crime scene agent and examines it more closely.

"this is flint." he says slowly, turning to me with a concerned expression.

"like the stone?"

"flint is the symbol for protection and retribution in Egyptian mythology. with hieroglyphics, they used to display dangerous animals like scorpions and snakes being cut with flint knives in order to render them powerless."

"oh." is all I can manage while I process what he's saying. Spencer waits for me to say something else, but instead I bend my head down to pull back the silk tie.

"there's no way that using flint is a coincidence." I reason. the blood is all on the inside of the tie as well, which gives me pause. Reid recognizes this a second later, his eyes lifting to mine. they look almost brown in the candlelight, flecks of gold sparkling in them while his mind whirs endlessly.

"I'm gonna call Garcia to see if any of the victims have been charged with a crime." he tells me.

"good idea." we both stand, the crime scene agent scurrying off to do something else. I head back over to Emily and hope that we're right about this. flint is too specific of a weapon for it not to be intentional, right?

...

we deliver the profile by the end of the work day, our unsub a serial vigilante with a personal edge to all of his killings. my body is slightly shaky from downing cups of coffee without any actual food, so the promise of eating out after we finish makes my stomach eager.

we go to a Chinese restaurant by the station and keep talking about the case, despite having promised ourselves not to do so. I sit between Prentiss and Reid while I dig into my dumplings. I like listening to them swap theories and past cases, how they weave together all their stories.

"you forgot to add something to the profile earlier today, Aaron." Rossi says as he piles more noodles onto his plate. our attention immediately focuses on the Italian.

"what did he forget?" Prentiss has a ghost of a smile on her face. I've noticed that she tends to speak like she's on the inside of a joke that other people don't understand. the intonation of her words feels like a secret.

"I didn't mention the possibility of our unsub being a cop." Hotch takes a sip of his ice water. there's a moment where we all reflect on this information before Morgan breaks the silence.

"I mean, they do know the system."

"they could easily take matters into their own hands, given what they see every day." Prentiss adds. I nod.

"when someone like our victim is killed, police refer to it as a public-service murder." Reid struggles to get the noodles onto his chopsticks, which I notice but don't say anything about. he tries again, the food slipping back onto his plate. Morgan notices this shortcoming of Spencer's and I see that he's about to start teasing him, so I change the subject.

"I saw a lot of rapists walk when I was in sex crimes," I put down my dumpling while I talk. Hotch watches me intently. I haven't spoken much about my previous job with anyone on the team, especially not him. in fact, he barely knows anything about me. "a lot of the victims didn't feel safe pressing charges, or the juries said they were asking for it. it's enough to make you wanna explode."

"it's a long way from feeling like that and actually committing a murder, though, don't you think?" Emily asks.

"not really." I turn my gaze back to my plate and start to feel nauseous. there's a clinking of plates and silverware as we continue in silence. Emily nudges my arm gently with hers and offers me a supportive smile.

I hear Spencer next to me, getting the attention of a passing waiter.

"excuse me," he says in a low tone. "can I get a fork, perhaps?"

Morgan snickers as the waiter takes off to get the utensil. at this point, there's a palpable tension as we wait to see who makes fun of Reid first. he drops his chopsticks into his bowl with a defeated clatter and Derek gently pushes his knuckles against Spencer's cheekbone.

"having some trouble, kid?" he asks. Spencer smacks his hand away.

"don't be mean." I giggle, reaching onto my wrist to grab a hair tie. "here, try this." I wrap the thing around the end of Spencer's chopsticks so that they're easier to use, handing them back to him.

Spencer tries again and it works-- if not somewhat clumsily. he gives me a little appreciative smile and I smile back before returning to my food, listening to the stories that Rossi doles out. he even pays for dinner despite our half-hearted protests.

the entertainment for the evening is pretty nice, but when I've stuffed myself with Chinese food, Emily leans over to me.

"do you wanna go to that museum you were talking about earlier?" she whispers. I peek at my phone to check the time.

"I doubt we'd have much time before they close, but yeah, definitely." excitement bubbles up in my stomach as I realize I might actually get to poke around for a while. Prentiss throws her napkin on the table abruptly.

"Clea and I are going to the Museum of Fine Arts. anyone wanna join?"

I look around to gauge some reactions.

"I'm interested." Morgan nods.

"I've already been several times." Rossi takes a sip of his drink as he politely declines. Hotch shakes his head.

"I have some paperwork I need to finish."

"again?" Prentiss complains.

"I'll go." Spencer sits up straighter as he looks at his brunette friend, folding his napkin neatly on his plate. my eyebrows raise a little, although I'm not surprised that he'd be interested in visiting any museum. we stand and get ready to go; Hotch warns us to be ready to go at seven in the morning tomorrow. a little weight is lifted off my chest as I realize that there will be some reprieve during this case, and then we're wandering out into the evening air.

we ate dinner sort of early, so the sky is still slightly aglow with a bruised shade, preparing to sink into its favorite darkness. after finding the route to the museum, we hop on the train.

Boston is lovely in the kind of way that aches of neat corners and airy lights. stores crammed with antiques and novelty products line the sidewalks, people wander about as they take in a pleasant night. somehow disjointed and cohesive all at once.

whatever bit of conversation we had on the way dissipates into breathlessness once we get inside the enormous entryway. it's cavernous, extravagant, gorgeous. we flip through brochures advertising different exhibits. Emily raves about Impressionism and decides that that must be our first stop, so we head off with the rest of the museum stragglers who have decided to feed themselves with art until they're forced to leave.

my head is constantly spinning to admire something else in the enormous white rooms. it's a bit overwhelming at some points, what with the gargantuan canvases that greet me at every turn. but it's impressive, too, and I find myself hungrily reading all the small plaques. I venture out of the Impressionism vein and into Korean art, my feet carrying me away from Morgan and Prentiss. Spencer broke off a while ago; to where, I have no idea.

I check out vases and pottery, sculptures, renderings of historical events. images from the crime scenes fill my head intrusively. there's no use in trying to shut them out; they've been in my dreams for a while now, the kind that wake me up in a cold sweat. I haven't told anyone about them— I'm sure others get them, too— and I don't want to seem like I can't handle it. every time I close my eyes, I begin to feel the pressure of a knife against my temple.

"a lot of these are from private collections."

the voice causes me to jump, my skin erupting in goosebumps as Spencer stands beside me. he holds his bag against his side and follows my line of sight to the 18th-century bookshelf screen.

"that's interesting." I reply. what else is there to say to that?

"really makes you think about what other art pieces won't ever be seen by the public." he turns and starts walking onto the next work, seemingly done with this conversation. my brow furrows while I watch him go, his posture miserable as a result of his skinny build. he's quite tall.

"what do you mean?" my voice comes out quiet, but it carries in the otherwise empty exhibit. Reid turns around and stops in his place, allows me to catch up briefly. we start to read another plaque by a silver basin.

"you could have a Cézanne just rotting in your attic and it would never be examined by the right scholars." he shrugs.

"I really doubt there's anything nearing that value in my attic." I laugh.

"you ever seen 'Antiques Roadshow'?" he asks non-sarcastically. I balk.

"sure."

"you never know." he's not a man of many words, apparently. I get his message regardless and we continue to walk, him setting out facts for me in neat rows, simple and easily taken in. he's definitely a know-it-all, but not in the way that makes me want to escape his presence. it's sort of comforting, having someone around who just understands everything. his absolute lack of social graces makes him easy to be around, too; I don't need to force conversation because he doesn't care.

we wind up in the mummy section, where the walls tingle with an energy that could only be described as magical.

"spooky." I nod to the domineering sarcophagus lid of Kheperra. a spotlight illuminates all of its intricacies and I make a beeline for it. Spencer trails behind me and we fall into silence as we peer at the exquisite details. it's intimidating, for sure, hulking and made of carved black stone. "you feel that?" I whisper to Spencer, who is enthralled in the image.

the way the spotlight spills over onto him is interesting; it emphasizes the shadow below his jaw and the delicate quality of his bone structure, his cheekbone prominent at the place where his ear meets his face. his lashes are long and lovely, his Adam's apple poking out of a slender throat. he turns to me with a curious expression.

"feel what?"

"the energy change," I smile. "from the ancient dead bodies."

"it's probably just the dark lighting and the media associations you have with mummies." but his eyes begin flitting about the room in a slightly panicked manner. I feel a smirk tug at my lips as I step closer to him.

"are you scared?"

"no," he scoffs and makes a face like I've made the world's most absurd accusation. "why would I be scared?"

"because we're all alone in here..." I use a lower tone to freak him out a little. "who's to stop them from coming out and... snatching us?" when my hand snakes around behind him to pinch his arm, he jumps.

"what the--" he catches sight of the devilish grin on my face. "don't do that!"

"sorry, Einstein." I laugh and turn in the other direction, him following me to the next piece. Spencer doesn't seem to have more thoughts to give on the exhibition, probably still a little creeped out. part of me begins to feel guilty for startling him, even though he constantly does that to me. his footfalls are weirdly soft.

I wonder what Spencer is like outside of work. what he does when he gets back to his apartment. how could someone like him entertain themselves? maybe he just reads books until his eyes glaze over. he definitely doesn't go out often, but maybe he has other nerdy friends. I hope he does. there's something in his eyes that's too viscous for me to grasp, something swimming and pocketed. I'd like to understand it, although that doesn't seem like a great idea to pursue. he barely gives his closest friends information about his life.

we end up at opposite ends of the room, him still examining an entombed husband and wife couple while I check out a canonic jar. the silence in this room is tangible. I wasn't lying when I felt an energy shift— it's like gold and clay and it smells like cracked cinnamon.

I'm trying to get a better look at the detailing when I feel a cold hand wrap around my forearm, easily encircling it. I jolt.

Spencer stands behind me with a playful smile, like he's quite pleased with himself.

"Reid!" I yank my arm away from his long fingers and see him let out that rare laugh. it's pleasant and fills the room with a warmer light as I rub my arm where his fingers held me. I'm surprised he was willing to touch me at all; it's pretty obvious that he's got a problem with germs, which is understandable.

"who's scared now?" he tries to defend himself with his palms when I reach out to gently smack his shoulder.

"you know, I was starting to feel bad for you." I laugh. he smiles brightly and keeps walking into the next room. I realize that the way we move is like two weighted ends of a string. he drifts out on his own, I follow, and vice versa.

I appreciate that he's beginning to loosen up around me, so much so that he smiles at a joke I make in the English Regency section. we walk quickly to absorb as much as we can before the museum closes, but we still don't get through all of it. Spencer isn't much of a conversationalist, and he doesn't really need to be. he listens to me talk, I listen to his erudite observations, smiling when he uses certain terms that sound like they're from someone much older.

by the time a curator tells us we have to go, we've completely lost Prentiss and Morgan and end up meeting back at the entrance. it's pitch black outside; Boston is still bustling, except my legs are tired and I'm ready to crash in bed. we have another packed day tomorrow.

[theraputicwritings]

Fragile Masculinity

A/N: I’m back and I am soooo happy! It’s been a long two years without writing and I apologize for it. I’ve been dealing with a lot that’s made it difficult for me to find inspiration and motivation to write. But lately, I’ve felt the bug. I’ve been rewatching Criminal Minds and have really wanted to write about Spencer Reid. I’m moving next week and I plan to write a story, blurb, or maybe even start a full ass fic every night that I am on the road. Should be about five days and I’m excited for the challenge. In the mean time, I wanted to share this story that I’ve had in my brain for the past week and I finally sat down to write it two days ago. It’s my first Spencer x reader and I really hope you all enjoy it. It was fun to write which is exactly why I love writing so much!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Word Count: 2,988

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of murder, rape, torture, fluff, angst

“You could certainly say that I’ve never underestimated myself. There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious.” – Angela Merkel

Another difficult case. All of the cases had their own thing that made them unique and difficult but this one just took the icing on the cake. Five women. All cops. All tortured, raped, and then murdered. Their bodies had been discarded like trash. It had been two days and while the team had developed a profile, it didn’t feel like they were any closer to finding the unsub who was doing this.

You had just finished making two cups of coffee, one black and one with an ungodly amount of sugar.

“Here, just the way you like it,” you said, handing the coffee to the BAU’s resident genius, Spencer Reid.

“Thanks…” He took the cup but didn’t turn to look at you. His face was set and focused as he stared at the map on the case board.

You sighed and faced the board as well, staring at the different victims who had died. Two of them while you were in the small town. You couldn’t help but feel a level of responsibility for their deaths. If the team had just been there sooner, maybe those women would still be alive.

“Hey, sweetheart, why don’t you make me a cup of coffee too?”

The voice made the hairs on your arms stand up and you could feel Spencer tense up as well.

It was one of the officers of the precinct. This was the third time he’d asked you to make him a cup of coffee. The first time you were already by the pot, so you made him a cup to be polite. The second time, you were just about to give the profile and you’d declined, using the excuse of being busy. It had been annoying before, but now it just felt plain disrespectful.

You slowly turned to him and raised an eyebrow. He had a smug look on his face and it made your blood boil even more.

“First off, it’s Agent. Not sweetheart, not honey, not babe. Agent. Second, I’m not an intern, secretary, or assistant. Go make your own damn coffee. Now if that is all…”

You trailed off and smoothly turned back to face the case board and your partner. You stayed silent until you heard the officer’s heavy boots stomp away.

Before you could say anything, Spencer chuckled under his breath.

You turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“What? Did you think that was too much?” Your voice dared him to disagree, but you knew that he wouldn’t.

You two quickly became good friends when you joined the team. Lately, you’d been getting signals that maybe Spencer wanted to be more. You wouldn’t have minded it, honestly. The two of you got along really well and you did care for Spencer. But with work, thinking of a relationship got pushed to the back corner. You didn’t have time to pine over a relationship. Especially at that moment.

“No, I’m surprised you didn’t snap sooner,” Spencer smirked and took a sip of his coffee.

You shook your head and smiled.

“He’s just lucky that didn’t happen. I don’t think his fragile masculinity could handle much more.”

With that, you spent the next several hours, pouring over the case together. Based on the victims and how they died it was so clear that this man despised women and maybe even more so women with some form of power. He saw them as a threat to his masculinity and so did everything he could to tear them down. Based on the profile he was probably in his mid to late thirties and cocky. He had a dominant personality but had probably had his masculinity squashed throughout his childhood and adult years. Now he was trying to prove himself in the only way he could think to do it.

The profile was detailed and good, but there was something missing in it. It was on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t tell what.

By the time the rest of the team had come back, you weren’t much closer to finding it, but it was starting to get late into the day. You weren’t going to give up though. More than likely there was going to be another woman missing tonight and you wanted to find the bastard before that happened.

When the words started to swim off of the case board, you decided to step outside for some fresh air. It was cold, and there was a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. It woke you up more than the coffee had and it helped refresh your brain.

As you looked up at the clear night sky, you thought more about the case. Clearly, you weren’t making the connection on something but you couldn’t tell what. You were so caught up in your thoughts, that you didn’t hear the familiar heavy boots as they came up to you.

“I’ll show you fragile masculinity.”

The voice was low and followed by a swift blow to the back of your head. Instantly you dropped like a bag of potatoes and were out cold.

———

Back at the station, it had only been a few minutes, but Spencer had already noticed you weren’t back yet. It wasn’t that he stalked you, but you’d caught his eye since the day you joined. It was difficult to admit, but Spencer liked you a lot more than just a friend. You stood out in a room. You were witty, bright, and you always took an interest in Spencer. Even when the team shut his ramblings down, you encouraged him to continue or would ask him about it later. You cared for him and it made him feel good.

“Hey guys, has Y/N returned? I haven’t seen her.”

After a chorus of no’s and head shakes, Spencer stood up from the conference table.

“I’m gonna go check on her, make sure she’s okay.”

He didn’t know why but he had a gut feeling that something was wrong.

His instincts were right, of course. When he got outside, his keen eyes instantly spotted the blood on the ground where you’d been attacked. As soon as he saw it, his head jerked up and looked around the dark street. There was a clear path where your body must have been dragged off.

Spencer knew he should have grabbed the team, but with the snow coming down, he didn’t want the tracks being covered. So he drew his gun and slowly started to follow the drag marks. They only led to an alley where a car must have been parked waiting. From the tire marks, he could tell it was a large truck, but the snow made it difficult to find out which direction you had been taken in.

Quickly, Spencer ran back into the police station and burst through the conference room doors.

“She’s gone!” He exclaimed! “There’s blood outside and I followed his tracks but it led to nothing. Guys, I think the unsub has her!”

His voice was panicked and immediately everyone jumped into action. Morgan and Emily ran outside to get a better assessment of the crime scene. Meanwhile, Rossi and Hotch asked Reid questions about what he’d seen and started working on finding out who had grabbed you.

——-

You woke up in a dark room and the first thing you realized was pain at the base of your skull. The second thing you realized was that your hands were tied above your head and you were dangling from the ceiling. With a groan, you blinked and tried to adjust your eyes to the darkness.

You didn’t have to worry about that too much though, because in seconds the overhead lights had been flickered on. You closed your eyes hard as the brightness made your headache only that much more intense.

When it didn’t seem to be that bad, you slowly blinked and took in your surroundings. Your profiler brain worked quickly as you figured out that the unsub must have taken you. It looked like you were either in a basement somewhere or in a cellar. You could tell you were underground though. It was very cold and that’s when you noticed you were only wearing your underwear and a tank top.

“Well don’t you look all pretty dangling like that. I could just eat you up, sweetheart.”

As soon as he said sweetheart, your body tensed. You knew exactly who it was and you kicked yourself for not realizing who the unsub was sooner. It was the officer who you’d snapped at.

The young man sauntered down a flight of steps and you mentally willed for him to fall. That didn’t happen, of course, and has he got closer, you braced yourself.

You didn’t acknowledge him though. You knew any response wouldn’t do you any good. This man wanted to hear you be afraid of him and you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

As he got in front of you, he grabbed the chain that was dangling you from the ceiling. It was attached to some sort of pulley and he used it to slowly drag you down until you were forced to be on your knees in front him.

“Now look at that? Doesn’t that just feel right sweetheart? You’re exactly where a woman should be. Beneath the man, ready to submit and serve him.”

Your face was defiant as you looked him right in the eye.

“I wouldn’t submit to you if you were the last man on earth. Go to hell.”

This made him smirk and he yanked you back to your feet. You could feel your arms screaming in pain as you stretched into the awkward position.

“You know, if you had just kept your pretty mouth shut, smiled, said yes sir, and made me a cup of coffee, you wouldn’t be in here. But now you are. And by the time I get through with you, you’re going to submit.”

His voice was calm and that almost scared you more than anything else. He’d clearly had the practice of torturing women before and you mentally prepared yourself for what you knew was about to happen. All the while praying that your team would find you still alive. And if they didn’t… well, you hoped they didn’t grieve for too long. And you didn’t plan to go down without a fight. There was no way you were going to submit to this pig.

———

You didn’t know how much time had passed. The only thing you knew was the pain. But you hadn’t made a single sound, not a tear was shed. You just continued your hard stare into this man’s eyes as he performed different types of torture. At first, he had just used his fists. When that didn’t get the response he wanted he found a crowbar and started to use you as his own personal piñata.

You didn’t know how much more you could take. Your arms were exhausted from holding up your weight and if you were correct, this torture was about to take a turn for the worst. You weren’t planning to submit physically or mentally, which meant this monster of a human was going to force you to submit sexually and then kill you. It’s how all of his other victims had died and you weren’t looking forward to dying the same way.

After one particularly bad blow to your rib cage, he threw the crowbar down in frustration.

“Submit!” he screamed in your face.

Your face hardened and you calmly said, “No. I will not submit to you. I’ll die before I submit to any man.”

His face red and veins bulging out of his forehead and neck, he yanked your chains so you were on the floor.

“Fine. I’ll make you submit, sweetheart. And you’ll like it too.”

Just as he grabbed your hair by the base of the skull, a loud bang came from above you. Your face brightened as you realized your team was coming. This was going to be over soon.

“You lose. You will never be able to hurt anyone again.”

If it was even possible, his face turned even redder. He let go of your hair and let chains fall completely loose so that you were nothing more than a heap on the floor. Your arms were so exhausted, you couldn’t even hold the weight of your traumatized body.

“This isn’t over,” he growled before taking off out a backdoor that you hadn’t noticed before.

It didn’t matter though, because within seconds after, the basement door had been kicked in and you heard people running down the stairs. You felt warm hands on you and you looked up to see a concerned Spencer trying to get the chains off of you.

“He went outside, he went that way,” you managed to get out.

You’d kept your head level that entire time, but now that you knew things were safe, it was like you could feel all of the emotions of panic, fear, and hopelessness bubble out of you.

You gasped out a sob and fell into Spencer as he finally freed your arms from their chains.

“I know. Morgan’s going after him. You’re safe now.”

Spencer carefully held you up as Hotch’s stern voice called for a medic. You felt a large hand caress your head and despite your fears and panic, you felt the safest you’d felt all day.

——

It didn’t take long for the medics to come down to whisk you away to the nearest hospital. Spencer stayed with you the entire time, but the two of you didn’t say much. He kept his hand wrapped around yours and would occasionally give you a grounding squeeze but that was it.

You didn’t mind though because it gave you time to ponder over this new side of Spencer. You knew that Spencer cared for the team like they were his family, but the protectiveness and worry he’d shown over you was different. It made you reevaluate whether a relationship could happen between the two of you. It made you question everything you felt about the doctor sitting next to you.

When you arrived at the hospitals, paramedics quickly wheeled you in, breaking the contact you had with Spencer. You turned your head to look back at him and again was met with a look of concern that no one had ever shown you before.

It wasn’t until you’d been settled into a room that you saw Spencer and your team again. The doctors had given you a nice dose of pain medication and explained that you had a few broken ribs and lots of bruising, but nothing that required surgery.

“We’ll be leaving tonight, but the jet will be coming back to take you and Reid home in a few days. I’m really glad you’re okay, Y/N.” Hotch’s voice held the same monotone undulation, but you could tell his words of comfort were genuine by looking at his eyes.

After a few more pleasantries among the team, a nurse came by to inform them that you needed to rest. A round of hugs, kisses, and goodbyes later and it was just you and Spencer.

There had never been such a thing as awkward silence between the two of you for as long as you’d known Spencer. But there certainly was now. Finally, you broke the silence by taking a long deep breath.

“You don’t have to stay with me tonight, you know? Or the next couple of days either. I know you’d rather sleep in your own apartment.”

Spencer smiled slightly before shrugging.

“It’s alright. I want to be here with you. You shouldn’t be going through this alone.”

Another awkward silence fell between you and it hung for a few more minutes before you both started talking at the same time.

“Thank you by the way-“ “Will you go out with me sometime?”

The question seemed to shock both of you and you blinked twice.

Again, your voices interrupted each other.

“Sorry—“ “Wait, what—“

Before you knew it, you were both giggling at the awkwardness. It was like you were two high school kids in a rom-com.

The giggles were cut short though when the movement caused pain to sharply spread across your chest.

“Ow,” you groaned as you wrapped your arm around your middle.

“Y/N,” Spencer started, moving his chair so he sat right next to you. With slight hesitation, he reached across and took your free hand.

“When I realized you had been kidnapped, I realized something else. And that’s that I have strong feelings for you. I have for a while. I don’t know if it’s love or affection, or maybe it’s both. But I do know that when I saw you in that man’s basement, I couldn’t wait much longer to tell you how I feel. So if you’ll allow me, I’d like to take you out on a date.”

The declaration surprised you and you took a moment to think about it. You’d be lying if you didn’t have feelings for Spencer as well. But you’d done everything you could to suppress them. This job was obviously dangerous and you and Spencer both knew how it could be to lose someone you love because of it. And there were also the worries of if you were to break up at any point. You’d still have to work together and you didn’t want to lose the work dynamic you two had over a breakup or a lovey-dovey relationship.

But you didn’t want to say no. Today had made you realize that life could be ended in a moment's notice. You didn’t want to waste it on what-ifs and could be’s.

So you didn’t hesitate for too much longer before saying, “Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you.”

“I always did something I was a little not ready to do. I think that’s how you grow. When there’s that moment of ‘Wow, I’m not really sure I can do this,’ and you push through those moments, that’s when you have a breakthrough.” – Marissa Mayer

————

Thank you so much for taking the time to enjoy my story. As promised, here is your tag @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal I hope you all enjoyed my story. If you have any suggestions for stories or requests, please fill my messages! Love you all!

[wirewitchviolet]

Abuse I’ve just had to sit with forever

Right now I can’t look anywhere without seeing people speaking up about abusive monsters in various positions of power and it’s really triggering a lot of PTSD for me about all the times I’ve been in positions like that where nobody has ever listened or tried to help so... I’m just going to rattle off all the ones that come to my head, anonymously, and I don’t know, if anyone who knows me wants to ask me about any of these and/or try to really do something to help, maybe come talk to me about it through whatever private channel we talk in sometimes.

Family stuff. There’s a lot, and there’s no real way to talk about any of it anonymously because I mean being members of my family it’s already narrowed down way too much.

Someone once put me in the temporary care of a woman who savagely beat me because her own children were making too much noise when they should have been asleep. Bad enough that when I went back to school I was almost ripped out of my home by child protective services on the assumption that’s where it happened. Oh and she also force-fed me rotten food with maggots in it. I ended up pretty sick as a result, lost a whole lot of weight, and ended up with a serious eating disorder that’s plagued me since. I did eventually get out of there but I don’t know that I’ve ever really conveyed the full extend of it.

One of that woman’s children had some sort of torture kink, very nearly killed me, did put me in the hospital from injuries, and might have raped me. Hard to say because I was like... 7? Hard to translate those memories now that I have the context and vocabulary. I tried to explain that to anyone who’d listen at the time but, again, I didn’t have the vocabulary and I don’t think it came across that like... ropes and tools were involved, not just fists. Never got into that with therapists, because the first one I had really loved playing gatekeeper with trans stuff and liked the “maybe you just think you’re a girl because of abuse as a child” line of thinking too much already. I think I heard he eventually landed in prison though, so that’s something?

The first job I ever had. Games website. I was too young to be working but nobody ever thought to ask about it, and my family needed the extra income to avoid homelessness besides. The owner of the site... was really into open sexual roleplay in workplace text chats. I was so young and weirdly sheltered that I didn’t even process that that was even a thing, and 90% of it went straight over my head, plus I was in a weird state at the time with the whole trans thing where oh yeah, if anyone’s doing any roleplaying stuff on the internet, I’ll be in the character of me-but-a-girl but everything is pretend here right? So... there was a whole lot of mounting and thrusting being described and it took a few years to sink in that that was not in fact about him pretending to be a knight with me as a horse or something. And there was also a lot of... failing to pay me for years of backbreaking work, outright stealing from me, and I mean, I was up until like 4 AM every night working while still in high school. So, yeah. that was a lot. Never told anybody about any of this. So far as I know he still runs the site and nobody’s ever confronted him about anything.

Used to try to play various RPGs with some people in this extra niche-y game space. Sort of the first place I was ever read as a woman without offering anyone “corrections.” And... there was just this one guy who whenever he was GMing had some weird creative excuse for my character (usually the only woman in the party) to... be raped and/or impregnated just all of the sudden and totally out of left field. Which everyone was OK with somehow. And when he wasn’t GMing he was all over my character of course. Never really spoke up to anyone. I just left one day.

Ended up... in the inner circle of someone very famous. Mostly famous for being a victim of abuse. Which is why I ignored... every single red flag there is that someone is an abusive person and taking advantage of everyone around them. They controlled every aspect of my life for years. Had me do a whole lot of work for them, place myself in real physical and psychological danger, regularly. Directly asked me to severe ties with most people in my life. Install kill-switch sortware on my laptop for their piece of mind that none of our conversations would ever be seen by anyone, while also making me talk only in privately managed chat services where they logged everything and my screen wiped at regular intervals, and insisting I use an untraceable alias in it. All of this I was constantly assured was for my own safety as much as theirs, somehow, and that I was their most valued friend who they would keep safe, start paying a huge salary to soon, as well as help secure me a safe place to live and get properly started on medical transition stuff that I was unable to do in the increasingly unsafe place I was living at the time. I could keep going with this, but again, I don’t want anyone playing guessing games. Eventually, as serial abusers do, this person got sick of me, cast me out, and said presumably unspeakable things about me to everyone in that social circle, because everyone quite promptly cut all ties to me without a word. I once mentioned some small fraction of this publicly in defense of... multiple people attempting suicide as a result of this person’s abuse, and it was made very, very clear to me that this is not someone I will ever be able to safely speak about in public.

Another person who is very famous, with ties to abuse prevention stuff, added me to a blacklist to kill my career prospects and then kinda put a hit out on me on a neo-nazi website, but I’ve written about that incident. Nothing happened as a result of speaking out aside from the violence I was already being subjected to ramping up and more people cutting ties with me. Oh and those who didn’t are still quite friendly with her.

Several women with ties to... dangerous people randomly got it into their heads several years ago that I posed some sort of threat to someone I am told they “feel very protective towards” and... unleashed a hell on me unlike anything I have ever seen. I have spent the past 6 years now dealing with death threats from far right terrorist organizations who in some cases have very sizeable body counts, and those groups don’t scare me anywhere near as much as these people. Anyone else I have seen them paint a target on completely withdrew from the internet their careers and any sort of public life to try and stay off their radar. I have had multiple people privately confide in me that they had been threatened never to speak to me again before proceeding to make good on that. I have individually thrown myself at the mercy of every single one of them, explained that I have absolutely no ill will towards any of them, and had never even heard of this person they’re “protecting” before they started coming after me. Nothing has worked. They’ve never stopped. I’m legitimately afraid someone connected to them is going to murder me some day, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve confided in all of maybe 3 people about this. One might be dead, one is a total hermit, the third briefly tried supporting me, received threats, and promptly retracted everything, replacing it with a fire and brimstone speech about how I am an evil monster who tricked them. I have regular nightmares about this, and collapse into a shivering heap just seeing any of their names mentioned.

I... spent a good deal of time in social contact with a person I have been told I need to be friends with to advance in a career I would like to pursue. While doing so, he sabotaged a project that was fairly important to me, and I saw some him mistreat someone else in ways I find quite disturbing, but that’s her story to tell and not mine. I don’t feel comfortable around him, and have no real choice but to give up on those dreams. Haven’t really discussed this anywhere. The sort of work I can get would definitely vanish completely if I did.

The sort of work I can get also involves working for a variety of companies with people very high up the ranks who have seriously harmed a number of people I consider to be very good friends, in ways that in some cases include sexual abuse, and I... really would prefer not to ever work for anyone employing such people now that I am aware of this.

Yet another famous person, but one who I feel perfectly comfortable naming, Graham Linehan, used to follow me on social media with a level of enthusiasm that could arguably be better referred to as stalking. Then later he joined some extremist anti-trans hate group and rose to the top pretty quickly. And some years after that, it finally sank in that worshiping a trans woman while also leading a group of people bent on killing us all, so he has been very loudly and very publicly rambling about his hatred for me specifically. I don’t really have to speak up about this one because he’s doing plenty of that on his end, but I do have to note that while this famous person terrorizing me hasn’t really earned me any sort of public defense or sympathy, it has encouraged a whole lot of people to invent an alternate timeline of events where I am directly responsible for him being a bigot, leading to me getting dangerous threats from both horrible bigots and people who claim to hate horrible bigots but have suspiciously poor aim.

Hey speaking of celebrities, one of the stars of Firefly used to regularly send me photos of violently distended testicles. One of the stars of Star Trek once posted something encouraging millions of social media followers to attack me and left it up for a weekend. One of the producers of World of WarCraft once threatened to sue me for libel and went on a big PR tour about it, speaking on podcasts and such, and so many fascists pretending to be journalists have dumped so much crap on me...

And not to long ago in something of a wacky mixup, someone ELSE rather famous, who does diversity consulting no less, confused me for someone else and cut loose with a horrific bit of hate and gossip and throwing me under the bus, and misgendering me, saying random harassers baselessly calling me a pedophile were probably onto something. Privately told a handful of people about that, because I thought she was a friend and that was so heartbreaking, but anyone I told is just pretending not to have seen it.

Someone was once offering me help because I was in a dangerous situation, financially. I explained that things had been extra hard since coming out as trans. Suddenly he goes from helpful and concerned to just... violent. Screaming a me, openly trying to chase me out of the space we were both in. I reported this to the proper people. They tried talking, he left. The whole community mourned the loss and wondered who could have driven him off. Still doesn’t feel like a safe place for me.

I don’t really know why I’m bothering with all of this. Nobody is actually going to help. I’d say nobody is actually going to read this, but I’m sure plenty of people who hate me will to see if I’m talking about them and use it as justification to make things worse. Plus some people I’m not talking about I’m sure. I get plenty of that all the time.

Nothing ever helps and you can’t ever win. If you try to keep the abusers appeased by not outing them, the abuse never stops. If you try to speak up, their fans and friends treat it like declarations of war and pile on. If you just try to be there for other people when they’re being abused, you get singled out as a “troublemaker” and added to hit lists and black lists and... nothing works.

I don’t want a lot out of life. I want to know I have enough food, and have a place to live where I’m not at risk of dying from either temperature extreme, a bathroom, enough room for my book shelves, a bed, a couch, a dinner table, and a yoga mat. Maybe a space where my cats can run around a little enclosed semi-outdoor area for the fresh air and sun. I want to be able to deal with my medical problems. I want to see and talk to friends sometimes. If I’m really greedy, I’d like to have all that for a particular friend too who I’m constantly worrying about dying of poverty. And I’d like to be able to work on games. Maybe play them sometimes. Maybe watch things.

And that’s the really messed up part. Because abusive people and people supporting the structures of abuse always say they just want to focus on getting work done, or having fun, and it’s a lie. What’s most important for them is perpetuating abuse. They could just stop, or get rid of the people doing it, and the rest of us could live our lives and everything would be fine. But no instead we have to drop everything and make sure no woman anywhere feels safe enough to even breath.

[nyrator]

been feeling like venting, so just some random vents- then afterwards, JSRF ramblings because I just beat that game

turning 29 at the end of the week, not looking forward to it- turning 30 next year terrifies me

mother’s funeral was friday, got that out of the way relatively painlessly (other than having to spend an extra 800 dollars just to bury my sister with her, about $4500 by the end of it

gofundme raised about $2000, other donations about $1300 last I counted (probably higher), so most of it was covered

yesterday my mother’s 70 year old best friend held a party at a bar for my mother’s friends and I was obligated to go, bunch of crazy old women talking like sailors, drinking and smoking pot and laughing about all the drugs they did and all the times they got raped (yeahhhh), the only person I was comfortable around was the best friend. And then the party ends two hours late, we’re getting kicked out of the bar, and this friend falls bending down to grab a picture of my mother that she dropped, smashes her face into the floor, and collapses with a pool of blood under her face, unmoving, right in front of me. I couldn’t get the words out that I’d go and pick the photo up for her before she went to get it, and I regret it

Thankfully, she only had a concussion and a broken nose, she started responding after about a minute of just lying there, but it messed me up, I think.

I’ve been debating if I want to start drinking. I never tried before, mainly because my father was an abusive and violent alcoholic. The other reason is because I’m afraid what I’d do to myself if I had no inhibitions in place, I feel like I’d be very dangerous to myself.

neck has been stiff for two days. Probably slept on it wrong. Also keep feeling like I get different symptoms of covid every so often after exposing myself to the public (that bar was packed with old people who wouldn’t wear masks and had no concept of personal space). Today my throat’s been sore and I can barely breathe.

my boss told me I can go back to work as soon as the funeral’s finished- not sure if I should call her to remind her or wait for her to call me, she texted me last week and I told her the funeral was on friday. But my coworker was also wondering and asked me today, and I didn’t know what to tell her, since my boss doesn’t want me to let her know just yet because of how limited they’re open (three days a week, four hours a day)

relationships are very hard

I’m a terrible person who does the bare minimum to help someone who’s terribly lonely and depressed, and it’s like I’m backed into a corner in desperation from being unable to do anything about it. I’ve caused so much harm to this relationship that I wonder if there’s any way it can survive sometimes

It’s always the case, though- I can’t get myself to do more than the minimum effort it takes, and my social anxiety prevents me from ever initiating anything, which has cost me so many people that I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. And I can feel that awful, selfish bitterness inside of me, that part of my father and my sister that’s in me that I try to suppress, and I hate it.

my diet is going well enough, lost over five pounds since starting it late August. But it’s mostly because I just dislike eating, so eating in portions is easier for me. And then there are days like today, where I just don’t eat at all. Just ate one slice of bread, 30g of peanut butter, and a small cup of ice cream today, and I don’t even feel hungry. Normally I try to get some food in me, but today I’m just too disgusted to even try to make dinner.

My sleep’s also been weird, still. Been going to bed later and later again, but can’t stay asleep. Usually only sleep in bouts of 3-4 hours, then just lay awake until I’m half asleep long enough that I feel the urge to give up and get up. It’s been like that for weeks now, I can’t remember the last full night of sleep I’ve gotten.

In lighter news, finally got back to playing JSRF. Beat it the other night after 24.5 hours of game time, just have a few more challenges left (did everything from Dogenzaka Hill to the Bottom of the Sewage Facility so far), got all graffiti and souls possible before beating the final boss. Played it via emulator (which worked great except for crashing when entering the graffiti selection occasionally) with a Switch Pro Controller, felt really good. I own it and the original Xbox for it, but just am spoiled by a PC experience, I suppose.

The gameplay is great, but the level design leaves a funny taste in my mouth. Aesthetics are worse than JSR for me, while music... it’s tough to say, it’s different than JSR, but really grew on me. Sometimes it felt more like noise (I remember the Sewage tracklist not speaking to me too much at first with the more ambient-ish tracks), but it did grow on me a lot. Baby-T was my Garage theme the entire game, such a great track.

Naganuma’s music in the first game was definitely the weakest of the original’s OST (still good of course), but in Future I feel he really stepped up his game. Teknopathetic is one of my favorite songs in the new OST.

speaking of favorite music, here’s mine from each game:

Bout the City

Dragula

Magical Girl

Miller Ball Breakers

Mischievous Boy

On the Bowl (A.Fargus Mix)

Rock It On

Super Brothers

Yellow Bream

Aisle 10

Baby-T

Birthday Cake

Count Latchula

I'm Not a Model

Like It Like This Like That

Rockin' the Mic

Statement of Intent

Teknopathetic

The Scrappy

(shout outs to Girls from the one JSR CD, haven’t listened to much of the other exclusive songs to it, but Girls was good)

but yeah, my minor gripes with Future

Linear level design was a bit painful (missing a jump and not being able to backtrack a lot was bleh), and the later levels were very painful (the sewage area and the rooftops are come to mind, skyscraper to a lesser extent but I liked the skyscraper one a bit more), but at the same time, they force you to get good, which I can appreciate, so hm. Still, a checkpoint system (especially since there are save points) or unlocking shortcuts would be a bit more convenient, if not entirely necessary.

Not having a way to stop auto-grinding, even if just holding down a trigger or something- the way I latched onto rails especially in the sewage area was painful

Points challenges mainly being “find the special points rail and just spamming Y” on it was a bit odd (mainly for the Jet Techs so far, just five minutes of spamming Y...), but I like how the combos feel in this game, especially X combos to speed up. Has a rhythm that’s hard to explain but just feels natural.

Also street challenges should’ve been explained better in general, had to look up most of the special ones (and glitched out the Shibuya Terminal one many times until realizing the fix was just “hop all over each platform multiple times and hope it counts”, the second one next to the tilted platform specifically for me

Mew/Bis/Rhyth’s redesign still hurts, but you better believe she’s the character I used throughout the entire game after unlocking her

Storywise, I think I like JSR’s take better- Professor K being a neutral party and more amusing/less insulting, Onishima > Hayashi, and the character designs and artstyle I overall prefer from the first game

Felt like it tried to add things that just didn’t really work sometimes (Death Ball comes to mind, though I haven’t messed with Versus yet, the story mission was very easy compared to how they hyped it up), and the boss battles were all... strange. Tagging enemies on that roller coaster level, having to grind up to that one Hayashi boss fight over and over and over, then even moreso for the final boss... never got much use out of targeting enemies, spinning circles around them, or things like the railgrab for high jumps or skidding to slow down for graffiti, either, but maybe they have their uses.

But man, the game did feel fun to play, just frustrating to explore, I think. I still like the idea of making Skatered, even more after playing this game. Maybe I could learn modding, or something...

Oh yeah, also got all the pieces of my costume together (minus some eva foam), we’ll see how that goes. Not looking forward to assembling it, honestly, but I can’t back out now. Main regret I think is the tights, being unable to find striped ones (and the solid ones I bought being a bit too see-through, I should’ve bought a size up maybe). Still not confident enough in my makeup abilities, either.

and one last bit of light news- I finally got my Kuja figure, he’s so beautiful and detailed and I need a good place to put him

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Author’s Note: For @angel-with-a-pipette (since for some reasons my fault one of the things we’ve talked about when we PM each other is Twilight. LOL). It’s not the drawing idea I had--I may still try and do that for you--but here’s a scene of Sora and Kairi in Twilight (the book) as Edward and Bella, but with my own SoKai spin on it all.

Basically? It’s right after Edward (though Sora in this) saves Bella (Kairi) from those guys in Port Angeles--when she’s already figured out he’s a vampire and a mind reader, though they haven’t had that conversation yet--and before they go to dinner in Port Angeles (which actually doesn’t happen in this fic, for reasons I’ll explain in a minute).

Also, I went with the “Life and Death” version of the Port Angeles scene. No one was trying to rape Kairi here--thank God--but rather when she got dropped off at Forks in the beginning of the book, she saw something shady going on with these guys at the airport. And in Port Angeles, she runs into those same guys from before, who want to kill her because they remember her from that day and think she was a witness to the event.

I also changed some of the Twilight vampire lore here. I’m having Sora be able to blush, as human blood lingers in his tissues. I’m also making him less strong, so that he thinks getting into a car accident--if the car blew up and there was fire, that is--could actually kill him.

And I tried to give Kairi a tiny bit more agency here--as Bella (who I do love. Don’t get me wrong)--by having her drive some, and Sora actually appreciating her driving and whatnot. IDK.

But anyway, I’ve rambled enough. Here’s the story.

Kairi’s PoV

"Have you always been so... empathetic, as to understand everyone's emotions the way you do? I mean, not to be mean, but you seem a bit staggered around me... so I feel there has to be something going on to make you to be so intuitive around everyone else," Kairi said, in trying to get the boy beside her, Sora—who she knew was a vampire—to admit that he was that… as well as a mind reader.

Sora gripped the steering wheel a little harder at Kairi’s words and blushed—the only indication he gave to Kairi at all, that what she was asking somewhat bothered him. But then he was so calm and pleasant when he faced her afterwards—as he always was—that Kairi had to wonder if she’d imagined his discomfort. “…O- of course I’m not that suave around you, Kairi. I- I like you, so it makes me feel nervous... So I’m sorry if I maybe seem less poised with you, that way, than I do with other people. …But you really think I’m that good with others? I don’t.”

Well, now it was Kairi’s turn to flush and feel a bit nervous, wasn’t it? Kairi sent a small smile Sora’s way, trying to show him that she liked him, too… Though she was irritated that he was trying to lie to her about his abilities now …

But she also understand what insecurities he might have that could drive him to do so. So as gently as she could, Kairi leaned ever closer to Sora and gently put a hand atop his. “Sora, I- I know that you’re a vampire, okay? And that you can read minds… except for probably mine. it’s okay. You can- you can tell me all about it.”

…Aaaaaaaaaand Sora nearly drove them off a bridge at Kairi’s words—something that almost made her regret she’d ever said a thing. Almost.—but he regained control of the vehicle again, fast… and Kairi found herself falling even more in love, as Sora saved her life once again.

“Wh- what? Why would you even say that, Kairi? Of course I’m not! Now, let’s stop thinking about ridiculous things and join Selphie and Naminé for dinner, shall we? Ehehehe.” But it was clear by the edge in Sora’s voice—and how he was speaking in a pitch much higher than Kairi had ever heard from him before—that she had stumbled upon the truth.

The redhead shivered as that information really hit her. Yes, she knew for a fact that Sora would never hurt her—she could just feel it in her heart; and more than anything, he’d been helping her lately. Hadn’t he?—but it was still something else, to have the information that Seifer had eluded at proved to be true.

And seeming to realize the jig was up, Sora gave up the front of acting like Kairi was wrong, and slumped in the driver’s seat as he let out one great big sigh. “Kairi, I- I’m sorry. You must be scared right now—and you have every right to be!—I- I wanted to keep you from danger as much as I could. But I was kidding myself in thinking anything’s more a threat to you than I am. Here: I’ll drop you off with your friends and then I’ll leave your life forever.”

But all of that was the opposite of what Kairi wanted!

And while Sora may have been doubting himself here, Kairi knew the kind of heart he bore. Sora was so good to everyone! His siblings, for example, that Kairi got to witness him being amazing to on a daily basis… He was there for her for sure, in saving her both from that van and those guys who had just recognized her from the airport…

And even when Kairi had been pushing Sora into telling her what was going on with his powers, he’d only ever been sweet to her… even while he pushed her away, sometimes literally (though always gently).

And he’d also signed himself up to go on a date with anyone who would pay a lot of money to charity for his being their date… even if he’d clearly hated the idea of going out with Larxene.

Sora was kind through and through, and Kairi just wished that he would see that!

“Sora, why don’t you- why don’t you let me drive? You seem too emotionally spent to do so yourself right now—and that’s my fault, and I apologize for it—but we both want to get home safely, right?”

And wordlessly, Sora acquiesced to Kairi’s request. He pulled over somewhere—something that Kairi knew should have been terrifying her, but wasn’t—and then switched seats with her.

Then, when Kairi was driving and they were fully back on the road, Sora leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes and smiled… He seemed to be liking her driving. Maybe he’d actually gotten tired of driving so fast, but hadn’t realized so until now?

“Sora, I want you to know I’m not afraid of you,” Kairi told her dear friend—though how she wished he was more—as she tried her best to focus on the jerk driver behind her who wanted to rear end her, and not on the fact that she was really laying her heart out on the line here. “And no, before you protest… I don’t think that’s me being stupid, or anything else. If it was anyone else- a vampire who really seemed to want me dead, for instance, I’d be running for the hills right now.

“But you- if anything, you’re the opposite of that. And I want you to know how much I appreciate that: how you seem to fight tooth and nail against your very nature to be able to be someone to write home about. It’s like how I went against what I want—who I really am—in moving here for my mom’s sake, not my own… But you’re probably more selfless than I even am, because you don’t complain every second about the choice that you’ve made. But I- I do.”

Kairi thought Sora would protest some of her self-loathing words here, because, if nothing else… their encounters together had told her that Sora thought she was pretty unselfish and special in that way.

But Kairi right now was trying to show Sora, that… really, he was a lot like her. And that they were two outcasts together in this world. And maybe that could mean something for them.

And Sora seemed to latch onto that, and chose not to dispel the image she had created: something she would be thankful for later.

“Kairi?” Sora asked now, as he opened one beautiful eye and peered at Kairi with it, as if she were the most beautiful thing in the world. “Do you- do you mind if we ditch your friends and go to a candy store or something? I swear I’ll tell you everything you want to know there.”

“I’d very much like that, Sora,” Kairi replied bashfully, to which Sora smirked and told her she didn’t have to be so uncertain around him—since, in his eyes, if anyone should be doubting everything they knew in this situation, it was him. But even while he said that, it was his hand that found Kairi’s this time.

Author's Note: So, like I said, they don't actually go out to dinner in this. Why? Because having the "vampire" talk happen early changed some things. And also because it's Sora and Kairi and not Edward and Bella, so they're a bit healthier. Because of Kairi's words, Sora's willing to try and trust himself to be alone with Kairi (unlike how Edward would have been)... something they both really want to be, and NOT with others right now, as they want to be a couple and give it a go. But they go to a candy shop, because Sora (like Edward) still thinks Kairi needs to eat. But he's not overly pushy about it like Edward, so he's fine with her just eating something small like candy on a date (as long as she's eating something at all. As Sora thought she'd refuse in getting food-food, since HE doesn't eat). You can see the candy shop date as the substitute for the Italian restaurant one in some ways, if you want.

[666coffeeboi]

What Not Both?

Fic Summary:

After not talking to Craig Tucker for so long, since their fake dating days, when they were the best of friends, Tweek finds himself sitting ‘alphabetically” on the first day of their senior year of high school.

Enter Kenny McCormick.

__________________________________________

They eventually made it to the hospital and Kenny waited in the front area while Tweek was with a specialist somewhere in some room far away by himself. He was probably freaking out. poor guy. Ugh. Fuck. Kenny wished he could be back there with him.

Tweek was totally freaking out as soon as he had to leave Kenny and be rolled back to some dark room have a rape kit. He hated every minute and felt even more violated than before, but he had to deal with all that. They offered him to give the DNA sample for if he wanted to file a crime. He said no. Then, they tested him for STDs and pregnancy. They said they would get back to him with all his test results in fourteen days. He thanked them and bit his lip nervously as he was rolled back out to Kenny.

“Hey, again. How’d it go?” Kenny asked.

“Have to wait ten days to find out…” Tweek replied quietly and shakily.

“It could be worse, then. We could have to wait a month or more. We can go if you want. To your place, or mine?” Kenny asked, leading them back out to his car as they got in together.

“D-do you mind if we g-go to -ack- your place? I don’t want them t-to see me like this. They’ll be pissed.. Do you mind? If not, I’ll go h-home..” Tweek responded quietly, letting Kenny help him to the car and putting him gently into the seat.

“No, I don’t mind, cutie. You can definitely stay over if you want. You can even sleep in my bed since you’re tired. I can help you in the bath, too, if you need it,” Kenny offered sweetly. He wanted to make sure he could do anything and everything for Tweek at the moment. This was exactly what Tweek realized he needed right now, sweetness and a bit of playfulness to distract him a bit. Thank god for Kenny.

“A-are you sure? Y-you don’t have to help me with the bath thing if you just help me to the bathroom, I can probably do it from there. T-thank you, Kenny, s-so much.. it means a lot,” he said and blushed way too much at the pet names this situation, but it did make him feel good for a bit and he definitely needed it.

“Okay, just making sure you don’t need help,” Kenny replied, parking at his house and taking Tweek inside with him. He helped him upstairs to the bathroom and left him some clothes to wear for the time being. Then, he walked to his bedroom and relaxed on the bed. He was so busy with worrying about Tweek that he barely even noticed all the calls and texts he was getting from Craig. He texted him only that Tweek was okay so that Tweek could tell Craig on his own time what happened.

It took Tweek an annoyingly long and really painful time in the bath. He had to scrub parts of him that Kenny hadn’t because they were private and covered. He used his nails to scrape at his skin all over to get those fucking hands off of him. He felt so dirty and violated. Now, he was sobbing aggressively yet again. He wanted today to be over with. He wished it hadn’t happened, but knew it was foolish.

Eventually, he finished scraping the symbolic dirt and more blood from his body, only to leave even more red marks all over from his own nails. At least they were his own hands. After he got control of his sobbing, he emptied the tub and did his best to dry himself before slowly putting on Kenny’s clothes to the best of his ability. Then, he tried to stand and walk out the door slowly, but fell before he made it to Kenny. The taller boy shot up when he heard a sudden bang in the hallway. He went out and bent down to help Tweek up.

“Tweek, are you okay?” Kenny asked worriedly. He picked him up slowly once again and carried him to his bed as he sat down next to him.

“I-I’m sorry! I thought- sorry.. Thank you,” he said, while letting Kenny carry him to the bed. Then he looked over at Kenny with his bruised and swollen face. “I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry I involved you..”

Kenny reached over and pet Tweek’s hair gently. It was really soft and it was kind of cute when he pushed back Tweek’s bangs. He was somehow even more adorable.

“Don’t apologize. It’s all good. Just let me know if you need anything. I can sleep on the couch and you can use my bed, if you want to,” Kenny told him and smiled lightly. Tweek blushed and smiled a bit at the hair pets. Then, he leaned his head a bit into Kenny. How was Kenny such a good person?

“Do you m-mind staying with me in here? I don’t really want to be alone right now… if you don’t want to that’s okay too,” he asked softly and looked up at Kenny.

“Ah-“ Kenny said and blushed lightly at how pretty Tweek looked right now. His eyes were killing him as they stared into his own. Wait, no. Now was not the time to be crushing, McCormick.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Is it just an excuse so you can cuddle me?” Kenny smirked, teasing the blonde a little to help maybe make him feel somewhat better.

“N-no! You c-can leave!” He squealed a bit louder, a little more like his regular self. Tweek’s blush only got more dark at that comment. Goddamnit, Tweek. Kenny was silent at first, but laughed lightly.

“You’re a dork. I can stay here with you for a bit, if you want, until you fall asleep, okay? Then, I’ll go downstairs unless you want me to stay here still,” he offered.

“I-if you want.. y-you can just stay here while I sleep? You d-don’t have to o-obviously!” he asked nervously. He really felt way calmer and safer with Kenny beside him. He didn’t want him to leave.

“Yeah, I can stay here. Let me change and such first,” Kenny replied, walking over to his closet. He removed his hoodie and shirt he had on. He replaced it with just a black tee and some sweats. His entire face was showing now which he didn’t do a lot because...reasons, but he made his way over to his bed and crawled in it next to Tweek.

When Kenny said he would change, he didn’t think it meant that. He didn’t think that he was going to see Kenny’s body like that and, fuck Tweek had to look down. He blushed and tried to think of something else as he bit his lip. Why was Kenny so damn attractive? Also, Tweek was pretty sure this was the first time he’d seen Kenny’s full face. Damn this guy for being gorgeous and sweet and flirty as fuck. Kenny turned over onto his side to look at Tweek who was definitely staring at him.

“Uh, earth to Tweek. You okay there?” Kenny teased, wondering if something was actually wrong or not.

“N-no! I-I’m fine!” Tweek squeaked with a totally red face. He turned a little to stop staring.

“Okay. Oh hey, did you message Craig that you’re okay. He’s been worried all week that you weren’t at school and I just wanted to let you know because he may or may not be worrying right now. I’m sure he is, but yeah,” Kenny said, now laying on his back as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Ack! I- yeah..” he said. He’d honestly not thought about even telling Craig about this day. He’d missed and thought about his day with Craig almost all week and then he’d somehow not even realized he was probably worried. “My parents- they t-took my phone as soon as I got home.. You didn’t tell him anything, right?”

“Nah,” Kenny said, shaking his head. “I didn’t say anything to him. I won’t say anything to anyone too unless you wanted me to, but I think you should tell Craig as soon as possible. For now, you should probably sleep.”

“Do you mind..” he asked and then yawned in the middle. “Do you mind if I borrow your phone to text him that I’m okay and that my parents made me stay home all week to work and took my phone? Please?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind. Here,” Kenny replied, handing Tweek his phone. He did wonder how Craig would react, though, since he would be getting a text from his phone and not Tweek’s.

“Thanks,” he said with a nervous smile as he took the phone. Then, he started his message to Craig.

Text to Fucker Tucker:

Hi, Craig. Sorry I haven’t messaged. My parents took away my phone as soon as I got home and then made me skip classes all week to make up for missed work. I’m sorry and I’m fine. Sorry

What. The. Hell.

At first, Craig was confused as hell as to why he was getting a text from Kenny at one in the morning, but it wasn’t Kenny. It was Tweek by the wording of the message, but why the hell was he using Kenny’s phone? Something wasn’t right. Was he with Kenny right now? It was late as fuck. Craig’s hands were shaking a bit as he sent a text back.

Text to Mcwhoredick:

It’s okay. Don’t apologize. I’m just glad to know you’re okay. You are okay....right?

Shit. Tweek hated lying to Craig so much. It made him feel dirty. Maybe he should say something about being assaulted but not the details? Just so Craig doesn’t think Tweek was just hanging out with Kenny because he wanted to. Not that he didn’t want to by this point, but that’s not why he’d ended up at Kenny’s place.

Text to Fucker Tucker:

Yeah, I’m okay... I actually got.. attacked.. only a little earlier walking to the gas station and Kenny was the closest person there so I asked him to come get me. Sorry. I’m fine though.

Craig’s eyes widened in fear, anger, and worry all at once when he read Tweek’s message. He instantly clicked the call button and started speaking as soon as he heard a click.

“Tweek, oh my god. Are you okay? Why, um, I’m sorry. You’re not hurt, are you? Well, not too hurt, I mean. Ah, I’m sorry I couldn’t have been closer to you. I would’ve gone to get you immediately, if I’d have known. How are… I mean, are you okay? Sorry. I was just worried. I still am. Y-yeah....” He sped off, feeling like an idiot for rambling suddenly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call or message you earlier. Like I said, my parents’ definition of grounding me was taking my phone and working me like a slave all week instead getting to go to school and see my friends. Sorry,” he tried to say, but he hated even not telling the whole truth. He was not good at lying either, but right now he was telling the truth just not the whole story. He hated it, though. Craig knew Tweek was definitely leaving something out. He was at Kenny’s, for Christ’s sake. What the hell was going on?

“It’s okay. I was just worried as hell about you Tweek, but it’s good to at least hear your voice and know you’re okay. I can let you go now since it’s so late. I hope you sleep well,” Craig spoke kindly, smiling next to his phone.

“Thanks for being worried and sorry again. Hopefully, my parents will let me come back Monday.. I-uh-I really wanted to see you. I actually had a reason to go to school this week, to see my new friends and my parents took it away. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you at school, Craig. Y-you don’t know how much I was looking forward to Monday. Ack! Then, I was sad for the whole week. Sorry for worrying you..” Tweek said, hating himself so much right now for not being able to tell Craig the truth. Maybe he would be able to one day. He felt so ducking back right now as he ripped at his hair.

“It’s okay, Tweek. Don’t sweat it. I’m just happy that you’re alright. I’ll, uh, see you at school maybe this coming week? Or sooner?” Craig spoke softly, wanting to be there for Tweek. He wish he could go over to him now.

“S-sooner? My parents are so going to kill me for being.. a-assaulted. I-I didn’t exactly tell them I was going to the gas station.. I think my friends are a bad influence..” he teased and smiled a little that he had friends and looked over at Kenny for a second. “I wish I could somehow just live on my own so I could do what I want..”

“Assaulted? What? Tweek, what the hell happened? Are you sure you’re okay? Oh my god. Fuck. Do you want me to come and get you? Why didn’t you contact me? I could’ve picked you up and taken you to a hospital. Jesus, Tweek. I’m just… are you… did Kenny help you?” Craig asked, trying not to let that jealousy kick in that Tweek had probably contacted Kenny first even though he knew Craig longer. Why hadn’t he called him?

Fuck. Now Tweek didn’t know how not to at least horribly frustrated with Craig. He ripped at his hair hard enough to pull a bunch out and scratched at his skin a bit. Kenny reaches to gently pull him hand away from injuring himself anymore. Tweek twitched, but didn’t pull away. Why did Craig have to be angry at him over this? He’d been the one who was attacked, after all. Maybe he just shouldn’t have told Craig about this at all to begin with if he was going to act like this because it wasn’t helping.

“I already told you the reason I called Kenny and not you is because when I woke up on the alleyway fucking bruised and bloody and unable to fucking walk, I remembered that Kenny lives just a couple blocks from there. You were like ten blocks away, Craig. Can you please not be angry at me about this because t-they- they fucking- ack, they raped me Craig, okay? Yes Kenny helped me and took me to the doctor now if you don’t mind I really want to sleep,” Tweek mumbled angrily and sighed a bit. The brunette was silent for a minute in shock. Craig hadn’t meant it like that. Wow. Now he felt like a complete dick. Tweek was taking things the wrong way.

“I’m… sorry Tweek. I’ll let you go, now…” Craig spoke in a sad and regretful tone. He hung up and let his phone fall to the floor, his eyes tearing up a bit. Fuck, he would kill the people that did this if he ever found out, but, fuck, Tweek probably hated him now. Tears began filling Craig’s eyes, but he shook his head and put on that blank mask of his and walked out of his house to smoke a cigarette this time instead of vaping.

“Fuck...” he breathed out, waiting for this night to end already. How was he going to fix this? He hated himself.

“Ack! Fuck!” Tweek said as he held in his urge to throw the phone, but remembered it wasn’t his and gave it to Kenny before curling into himself and pulling his hair again, breaking down in aggressive sobs yet again that day. He’d been way too hard on Craig, he knew that, but his totally fucked emotions from this entire day came out in anger when Craig asked him again why he hadn’t called him instead of Kenny. Why had it even mattered? It’s not like he’d chose Kenny over Craig, it was that Kenny was the friend that was closest to him physically. If he’d been a few blocks from Craig he would’ve obviously called Craig instead. Why did it matter? Why had Craig seems upset about that detail?

Tweek honestly didn’t mean to go that far and he definitely didn’t mean to tell him what had happened, but he didn’t end to fight with Craig at all. He’d hated that every time in the past, too. This time was so much worse. He hated himself! He wished he could just rewind and not have said anything to Craig. He should’ve just taken Kenny’s suggestion to sleep and then tell Craig, but he couldn’t sleep now. Not after that. Craig probably hated him now and he probably just lost his best friend he’s ever been privileged to have in his life. Maybe he could apologize and talk to him Monday, if his parents let him to school. Maybe he could just sneak to school anyway. Whatever. UGH.

“Sorry.. I-ack- shouldn’t have- should’ve listened to you and now my best friend hates me,” he choked through more sobs.

Kenny immediately felt bad for Tweek. He heard every word Craig said to him, although he tried not to listen in, but damn. Craig must have been terribly frustrated with all of this and worrying every night about Tweek. He’d even told Kenny that he wasn’t getting any sleep at all for the past couple of days, too. Kenny sighed lightly and rolled onto his side to rub Tweek’s back gently.Tweek flinched away only a bit at first, but then gave in and leaned into Kenny’s touch. He was warm and Tweek scooted just a tiny bit closer to him.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just been worried all week about you and I’m sure hearing what happened to you kind of shocked him, but you should just try to get some rest now, okay, Tweek?” Kenny hummed comfortingly.

“Ack- w-why did I have to say all of that to him? He didn’t deserve my getting angry at him- I just- it’s been a l-long day and when he got frustrated it got to me and now I regret it. Fuck!” He rambled as he tugged his hair more. Kenny took his hands again, doing his best to save Tweek’s poor scalp.

“Tweek, t’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Shoosh,” Kenny spoke before cuddling his friend teasingly. “Here. I’ll even give you Kenny cuddles. Only special people get those or rich people. I usually charge them, though.”

“Ack!” he spluttered. Tweek couldn’t help, but be distracted by his suddenly flushed entire body and the heat of Kenny’s body. He always seemed to go crazy when Kenny teased him and when he touched him. Tweek suddenly was able for even a minute to forget about his fucking horrible day. He dared to look up at Kenny’s face and trailed off in a mumble. “T-thanks- for everything, Kenny.. It’s, uh, nice to see your entire f-face..”

Holy. Fucking. Sweet. Ass. Titties. Kenny was fucking blushing like hell right now and all because of a little comment that Tweek had just spoken with the voice of an angel. Was that what heaven felt like?

“A-I’m- umm, ah… thank you…” Kenny replied, embarrassing himself. His face was completely red in his dark room as he tried to cover it still. He didn’t usually show his entire face much because, well, people would always try and hit on him constantly. That and other things to do with his past but Tweek saying that just...fuck.

“You, uh, h-have a nice face..” Tweek managed and then regretted because he sounded stupid saying it out loud, even if he totally thought it. Tweek smiled a bit and playfully poked Kenny’s cheek which was warm. He also looked at Kenny’s lips for the first time ever and they looked so soft. Fuck, Tweek this was not the time for that, no sir. Tweek had never even kissed anyone anyways, well, besides Craig as tiny kids during their whole fake relationship thing. He looked down and blushed more.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck. Alright, Kenny. You have to fight the urge to make sweet love to this precious and beautiful person right now. Oh, fuck. No. He literally just met this guy and he has a crush on him. Kenny never crushed. He only fucked. Never once has he felt this way about anyone. Kenny blushed gently and glanced away with a gulp.

“A-ah, um, thanks, Tweek. Now go to bed sleepy. You need to rest. For reals, bro,” he said as he ran his fingers over Tweek’s soft arm gently. Tweek shivered at how good it felt.

Oh. Tweek needed to stop low key flirting with boys who might not feel the same. He already knew Craig didn’t feel that way because he was straight. What if Kenny had just been messing around the whole time- no no Tweek stop down that road right now. Not like it mattered right now anyway. He wasn’t about to make out with or

even kiss Kenny after everything today. He just wanted his sweet, playful warm self beside Tweek. He smiled a little bit up at Kenny.

“I’m not tired now..” he said with a tiny whine and leaned into Kenny’s cuddles more, putting his head on his chest. He could hear his heart. “You’re going to stay with me, r-right?”

“Yes, I am,” Kenny hummed before laughing playfully before giving him an evil gaze. “Or I might just leave you forever. I’m kidding, Tweek, but seriously, you should sleep.”

Kenny gently ran his fingers through his hair. Tweek pouted a bit at that joke, feeling fingers on his sensitive head and it felt so good. Between the warmth and Kenny’s calming fingers, he closed his eyes.

“Thank you, Kenny, for everything. You’re such a good person,” he hummed into his chest as he started drifting a bit. “G’night..”

“It’s no problem,” Kenny smiled, watching as Tweek closed his eyes. So he did as well, falling asleep next to the blonde. “Goodnight, Tweekers.”

[shinneth]

Gem Ascension Tropes (General: A - B)

Full, Superior Alternative on Google Docs.

So, I’ve been on the fence as to whether or not to publicly share this. In the end, it’s really nothing more than a project of self-indulgence. However, it is 100k+ words of self-indulgence and it does involve a story at least a decent number of my followers have read and liked. I also talk about a lot about Stevidot and all the characters in general for this project. Considering I haven’t written anything since the end of August (and real life interference is finally affecting my ability to reliably produce anything of substance since then), I figured it was only fair to offer something. I do still have the itch to write; I just really don’t feel comfortable doing it if I myself am not in a good state mentally or emotionally.

Why did I make this? Well, I’ve mentioned in the past that my other super-huge, much-more-popular story Travels of the Trifecta! eventually gained enough notoriety to not only make it to the Fanfic Rec list on TV Tropes, but a few readers were even gracious enough to make an actual trope page for the story itself. However, despite great temptations, I never once contributed to the page myself, for fear I’d never get the story done because of how addictive and time-consuming that site is. 

I was naively hoping Gem Ascension (or at least Bottled Up, which is easily my most popular story outside the main GA series) might get the same honors. But back then, I was also new to the fanbase and didn’t realize just how badly Stevidot as a ship was wrongfully considered an immoral ship... and still is. So that’ll probably never happen for real. 

That said, so long as I completed my initial 3-act series for GA, I considered it fair game to play around with tropes that I could associate with it. And I finished that sucker in record time. So, since the early months of Summer, I’ve slowly compiled a list of tropes for my GA continuity - so far for general coverage and character-specifics only. 

They’re similar to my GA Reference Tour posts in that aspect. Like I said, though, the entire document is over 100k in length, so no way is that all going up at once. The general listing is big enough to make me think it won’t fit in one post, either (especially as I continue to waste space rambling here). As the length alone proves, I was right to avoid doing this for Trifecta.

I wouldn’t consider it a complete (or even entirely accurate) listing; the character sections are very lop-sided in terms of content, but that’s a little justified, at least. Anyway, I did make some new art for certain character sections in future posts, so I figured this would at least be a neat way to share them. I’ve linked said tropes and everything. It’s really only worth a read if you’re that interested in getting some more in-depth details to the GAverse that I haven’t really covered here properly yet. But it does technically count as Stevidot content, so there’s the grab.

Beyond the spoiler cut, there are no marked spoilers. I’m not savvy enough to go THAT far with the style... plus, the main series has been complete since early March and it’s now October. Just... if you recently found the story, haven’t finished it, but actually intend to do so, look on at your own risk, I guess. 

Well, let’s see how much I can actually fit in here. And whether or not it’ll format properly. 

Edit: Turns out, only up to the K Tropes. Loooooovely~. Looks like I’m gonna play it safe and cut this after the Bs.

Edit II: As a bonus, I see the links being retained when I edit this post, but they won’t appear on the post itself. Just. Awesome. I may just put this up on Google Docs as an alternative if anyone cares that much about having the hyperlink access. That link is up. I’ll need to neuter these things something fierce so the hyperlinks will appear again.

GEM ASCENSION CONTINUITY TROPES

 GENERAL

 A Day in the Limelight: Act II as a whole functions somewhat like this; Hero Protagonist Peridot, save for the short final scene at the end of the act, is completely absent. She is frequently talked about and is featured in prerecorded Video Wills, but the 8 chapters Act II is comprised of are dedicated to the 8 remaining members of the main cast. Garnet, Pearl, Amethyst, Connie, and Steven – characters who had much less time to feature in Act I due to being captured during the first half – all have chapters entirely dedicated to them. Greg, despite being part of GA from the start, also had limited time to feature in Act I past Chapter 3 due to being a Non-Action Guy. His chapter is one of the longest; Greg is also involved in a subplot with Bismuth and Lapis, and as of Chapter 7, he receives a Rank Up and officially becomes a legit member of the Crystal Gems.

A Fate Worse than Death: Pallification. Not only worse than a gem’s shattering, but even corruption. It’s similar to corruption in that a gem is technically still alive, but their consciousnesses are greatly compromised. While a corrupted gem is more akin to a mutated rabid animal until a cure is found, a pallified gem’s body – while usually maintaining the integrity of its physical form – has been rendered soulless. Once White Diamond supplants their conscious minds with her own, she boots them out to parts unknown (she doesn’t even care enough for her own subjects to figure out what exactly she’s doing to their conscious minds) with no way for them to find their way back to their original body. It’s not even made clear whether or not a gem’s consciousness is killed off outright the moment White infects them. So, a pallified gem is basically condemned to eternal purgatory. Naturally, even after the events of GA, there are still millions of gems afflicted with this condition with no known cure to ail them. With White Diamond herself shattered at this point, these victims are little more than vegetables at best.

A Friend in Need: It must be stressed that the objective from the start of Gem Ascension was not to overthrow the Diamond Authority (and certainly not to destroy Homeworld itself): it was to rescue friends who were in trouble. Steven, Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, and Connie were all imprisoned on Homeworld with no means to truly escape, so Steven resorted to sending an SOS to the Crystal Gems on standby on Earth. After taking charge of this mission, Peridot greatly emphasized their objective being a quick in-and-out after rescuing their friends as quietly as possible. Then the mission escalated with much higher stakes, but the objective remained the same. Act I concluded with all of the Crystal Gems safely escaping Homeworld and returning to Earth… save for Peridot. The follow-up mission, consequently, had the same objective: rescue Peridot, then escape. It was later amended to rescue all of Homeworld’s native gems once it was discovered that Homeworld itself was going to fall apart very soon. The revolution that came about with Homeworld’s destruction and the fall of the Diamonds were merely byproducts of the rescue mission. Only Pearl seemed to anticipate this kind of result, but none of the Crystal Gems were prepared to be responsible for keeping Era 3 going on Earth in Homeworld’s absence (as well as the Diamonds’). 

Acceptable Targets: In-Universe, the lower you are in the caste system on Homeworld, the more you’re expected to take abuse of any kind from any gem of a higher class. This is Who I Am goes further into depth on this topic; it’s revealed Peridots have no rights when it comes to being mistreated by gems above their class. Even worse, it’s illegal for a Peridot to antagonize a gem of a higher caste for any reason – yet it’s perfectly legal for elite gems, such as quartzes, to do whatever they wish to a Peridot so long as it doesn’t permanently damage them or compromise whatever mission they’re assigned together on. Yes, even if a low-caste gem is raped (like Peridot almost was), it’s legal and the victimized gem is fully expected to suck it up and deal with it.

Adaptation Expansion: Not only does the GA series serve as an alternative to Change Your Mind, but it frequently brings up events from past canon episodes. This isn’t done for nostalgia’s sake, but rather to expand on said scenes and observe them with a different lens. Through this, scenes in the show readers have seen multiple times can yield some new discoveries with the additional details and questions posed within the GA narrative.

Adaptational Alternate Ending: Takes place shortly after Escapism in the show. The first few minutes of Change Your Mind are canon to the fic (mainly Blue Diamond’s Heel-Face Turn), but it’s completely off the rails from there on out. So, it’s basically an alternative ending to Season 5.

After-Action Healing Drama: In Chapter 5 of Act I, after Peridot got caught in a No-Holds-Barred Beatdown with 9FC and sustained severe injuries in the previous chapter, the recently-rescued Steven uses Lion to take himself and Peridot somewhere private so he can heal her many injuries.

All For Nothing: The battle with White Diamond in Chapter 6 of Act III is this, as that wasn’t the real White Diamond to begin with. The Crystal Gems just wasted a load of time and energy on a proxy, and it’s the realization of this trope that causes said battle to abruptly turn in White’s favor, ending in a Curb-Stomp Battle with the Crystal Gems on the losing end.

Due to this aspect of the battle, it means Rainbow Quartz 2.0’s scheme to siphon off some of White Diamond’s essence (to later use for a cure for corruption and pallification when they return to Earth, knowing White’s never going to help willfully) was also a waste, and what Pearl and Steven gained was just the essence of a bunch of dead gems. Pearl has a bit of a minor Heroic BSoD in Chapter 7 over this, but Garnet pulls her out of it and encourages her to not give up on the endeavor.

All Up to You: The premise of Gem Ascension: Peridot, Lapis, Bismuth, and Greg step up to rescue their A-Team friends against all odds. 

Alternate Continuity: This story takes place shortly after Escapism. Beyond the first few minutes of Change Your Mind, it becomes canon divergent from there.

Anachronic Order: After Gem Ascension’s completion, a set of stories was released throughout the month of May that all took place in Gem Asension’s continuity (save for one, technically, which took place a while before GA starts and has no connections to said continuity outside of being referenced in a few of the other stories) for Stevidot Month. Justified, somewhat, as they were only released out of order due to representing at least one of three prompts assigned for the five weeks of Stevidot Month, and Word of God planned much of this on the fly. A couple of stories were pre-prepared (Plans Change and This is Who I Am’s first chapter), but didn’t fit any prompts other than the ones assigned to the final two weeks. Since May’s conclusion, all stories (in their AO3 incarnations) have been put in a collection and are arranged in chronological order.

Bottled Up is the only story that averts this, as it chronologically occurs before all the others listed here and was also the first one released in May. However, since it does take place a good amount of time before GA’s starting point, it can easily be read as a standalone. The same cannot be said for the stories following it.

My Time is Now, which properly introduces Sphalerite (who only got an unnamed, featureless cameo in Act III and spoke the very last lines of the story), takes place no more than half an hour after Act III’s conclusion, but it was also the last story released in May. 

Second-to-last was Plans Change, which took place only a few hours after the aforementioned story. 

This is Who I Am chronologically falls roughly half a week after that, but its first chapter was released in the middle of the month.

Peri-dise: The Capitalist Anarchy takes place about 1-2 months after GA Act III, making it currently second-to-last in GA’s overall continuity, but was the third story released overall during May’s second week.

It’s a Birthday, Yes It Is takes place in late August, making it the furthest-removed from GA’s timeline by 3-4 months (until the release of Our Tomorrow – a direct sequel to this story taking place exactly one year later, but won’t be listed here as it was made long after Stevidot Month ended). It was the second story released for Stevidot Month. 

Anyone Can Die: The moment White Pearl and Blue Diamond die (relatively close to the same time) by Chapter 6 of Act I makes it apparent no punches will be pulled in this story; especially after it’s made clear how much of a Complete Monster White Diamond is in this continuity. Yellow Diamond falls two chapters later, and at least for a short while it’s presumed Peridot met a similar fate. There’s also the concept of pallification, which renders several hundred gems functionally dead in Act I alone. The majority of the gems left on the planet end up pallified by the time the Crystal Gems return to Homeworld in Act III. By the climax of said act, White Diamond self-destructs. On a smaller scale, almost every original character introduced in GA either dies or is already dead upon introduction. 5XF is the only one so far who averts this.

Astral Projection: An aspect of Steven’s developing powers in Act III. During Chapter 4, an all-pink astral projection of Steven travels into Peridot’s subconscious to find out what White Diamond did to fragment her mind. A bit later in Chapter 8, astral projections of Steven and Peridot are seen superimposed over the corporeal forms of Pink Diamond 2.0 and Chartreuse Diamond to signify both coming to terms with their Alter Egos becoming part of them and becoming whole.

Autodoc: The restoration machines that are abundant and scattered across Homeworld, which the Crystal Gems use to speed up the recovery process for Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl at the end of Chapter 6 of Act I.

Badasses in Distress: All of the imperiled Crystal Gems at the start of the story qualify. After Act I, Peridot takes their place.\

The Big Damn Kiss: Steven gives Peridot a pretty significant one in Act I’s final chapter right in the middle of a large and busy battlefield before they split ways to help their friends. Punctuated with a deliberate Shout-Out to Gem Drill.

Big Damn Reunion: Chapters 6 and 7 of Act I is this, as is Chapter 5 of Act III for the follow-up rescue mission.

Birthday Episode: It’s a Birthday, Yes It Is serves as one for Peridot. It also loosely applies to Steven, as his birthday is less than two weeks before hers and is frequently referenced (the pair’s chronological ages are 14 and 15 respectively by this point). Our Tomorrow is a direct sequel to the aforementioned story taking place exactly a year later, making Peridot 15 and Steven 16.

Bittersweet Ending: GA’s conclusion in a nutshell. The Diamond Authority is no longer a threat to anyone, but Homeworld is destroyed, meaning the Crystal Gems have to directly deal with the fallout of this particular revolution while ensuring Earth’s safety. Now they have thousands, if not millions of gems to help adapt to life on Earth and teach the concept of independence and free thought. Homeworld’s colony planets are doomed to civil disorder and collapse unless the heroes directly help, but that also presents a risk if they don’t play their cards right. Peridot and Steven’s lives are irrevocably shaken in their own right, and they’re the ones who’ll have to be the most involved in helping the Homeworld refugees. And there’s still the matter of curing not only the corrupted gems, but now the pallids as well. While GA ended the best way it possibly could, given the circumstances, there’s still a lot of work ahead for the Crystal Gems… and a lot of it will be unpleasant/awkward at best and outright life-threatening at worst. 

Blank White Void: The nature of the Pocket Dimensions featured in Act III, save for the one Steven is initially imprisoned in at the end of Chapter 3.

[tessxomarie]

Saving You - Part Thirteen

*Here it is, finally an update (ha-ha). Thank you all for being so patient, and I hope your enjoy the next installment of Saving You!*

Angel and Coco take Kendra and I back to Angel’s.

The rest of the club headed out on the manhunt for Erik.

The car ride to Angel’s was silent. I feel like the emotional rollercoaster of the last day have caught up with me.

Kendra has held my hand the entire ride, I know she would want me to talk but she also knows that silence is okay. She never forces the issue, she lets her actions speak up.

Once we arrive back at Angel’s, I remain mute. We enter through the front door and I make a B Line for the couch.

“Are you girls hungry? One of us can go up to corner diner and grab something?” Coco asks.

I remain in a daze, staring blankly at the chair across from me. I feel Kendra’s hand on top of my bandaged one.

“Food sounds great, we all need to eat. Umm, how about two BLT’s and two fries? And a chocolate shake for Lee.” Kendra replies to Coco, and when she says chocolate shake, I snap out of my daze – chocolate anything makes me happy.

“Chocolate shake?” I repeat looking at Kendra, and she busts out a laugh.

“There’s my Lee, my chocolate obsessed Lee. Boys are going to get us food, we are staying put.” She explains.

I look at Angel and Coco, who are staring at me intently.

“Leaving us alone? No. We can’t be alone, Kendra.” I state as I begin to stand up but quickly sit back down as I feel a head rush.

Both guys rush to my aide.

“Leah, babe, you need to take it easy. You also need to eat. Coco will stand guard outside while I’m gone. I’ll only be a few minutes.” Angel assures me as he looks me in the eye, but I feel so unsettled his voice sounds faded.

I simply nod as I try to get it together.

Angel departs, but not before another forehead kiss is given.

“Do you want to talk?” Kendra asks as soon as Angel’s bike roars down the driveway.

“Talk about what?” I retort.

“Everything? Anything? Lee, it’s been quite the day. I know you’ve talked a lot between last night and this morning, but I know you’re a second away from just shutting down.”

Kendra is right, she’s always right.

I take a deep breath and run my hands through my hair, “How the fuck did I end up here, Kenz? Like, why did Erik prey on me? Why did he have to rape me not once, but twice? Why did he have to go terrorize my apartment? I don’t have a safe haven right now, I have a bunch of bikers serving as security. Like, how? Why? I’m supposed to be the one saving and helping people, I’m not supposed to be saved.” I ramble.

Kendra pulls me in for a hug.

“Shh, Lee. Breathe, babes. Breathe for me.” She tells me as I just start to unravel in her lap.

“Aleeah Starr Parker.” Kendra beings, “You deserved to be saved. I hate to break it to you, but none of us are immune from fuckery. I wish you were though. I promise, I’m going to do everything I can in my fucking power to assure you will always be safe. You didn’t deserve any of this. Please know that you are loved, Lee. We love you so much, and we’ll do whatever it takes to protect you – no matter what.” Kendra tells me as she pets my hair, helping me calm down.

It does the trick, because Kendra means everything she says and keeps her word.

I know her head has to be spinning just as much as mine is.

I sit back up and wipe my eyes and try to collect myself. I look at Kendra and she has tears in her eyes.

“What do I do next, Kenz? How do I start to move forward? I can’t go home, I can’t work right now – I’m a fucking hot mess.” I explain as Kendra rubs my back.

“Well first thing is first, we’re going to eat. After that, how about you lie down and sleep? I’ll have Coco take me to your place, I can try and clean up what I can. Then, we’ll wait to hear from Bishop, okay? One task at a time Lee-Lee.”

I nod my head in agreement.

“One task at a time, if only it was as easy as it sounds.” I say as I slowly get up and I make my way to the bathroom for a simple moment of peace and quiet, and solidarity.

I let the water run, and I rub some water along my face. I look myself in the mirror and it may sound weird, but I rarely recognize myself.

If it’s possible, I’m paler than usual. My eyes, there is no sign of life staring back at me. My body is telling me I’ve been through the ringer.

I then look down at my wrist, my bandaged wrist.

I can’t ignore it.

I did this to myself…

I’m not trying to downplay any of this. What happened, it’s fucking horrifying. How I coped with it, even more terrifying.

I continue to stare at my wrist, and I can’t help but take the bandage off and I see my newest scar.

I know I shouldn’t have taken the bandage off, but it’s like my body acted before my thought process was complete.

Before I can touch my scar, there’s a knock at the door.

“Lee, you alright? You’ve been in here for like ten minutes.” Kendra asks.

I shake my head to refocus, I open the door and Kendra breathes a sigh of relief but then looks down at my now naked yet injured wrist.

“Aleeah, why is the bandage off?” She asks with worry.

I shrug my shoulders as I truly do not know what I just did.

“We need to cover that back up, babes. It’s still fresh.” Kendra says, and I spit back with sass, “So is this entire event…shit, sorry Kenz.” I bite, regretting my words and tone instantly.

“Lee, I get it. But as your nurse, this shit needs to be properly covered for another day or so.” Kendra states as I walk over and sit on the toilet as she searches for proper bandages in Angel’s bathroom.

I guess the one good thing is that thanks to Angel’s extra curricular gang activity…he’s well stocked in medical supplies.

Kendra wraps my wrist in silence, but it’s a comfortable silence. She gently squeezes my hand when she’s done. Just as she does that, we hear Coco and Angel come in the front door.

“Food is here!” Angel announces.

Kendra leads me out of the bathroom, and we emerge into the kitchen.

“Leah, you alright babe?” Angel asks with worry as he sees Kendra holding my hand.

“I will be.” I quietly say.

Kenz and I eat quietly as the boys head back outside to smoke and probably to come up with their own plan on how they want to handle Erik. “I’m glad you ate. You needed to, because a bagel doesn’t really count as a meal.” Kendra says with a smirk.

“Ha ha.” I sarcastically say as I finish the last bite of my BLT.

Before we know it, the boys reenter the house.

“Coco, you’re taking me to Leah’s apartment. We are going to clean up what we can, and start packing up shit.” Kendra demands.

Angel and Coco both look at us with confused looks. “Packing up shit?” Coco questions.

I haven’t even begin to think of where I’ll be calling home again, but all I know is that I will never go back to that apartment.

“I’m not staying in that apartment ever again. I know Erik is going to be handled, but he fucking invaded my safe haven, I will never feel comfortable there. Kendra is doing the right thing, please just help her with what you can.” I plead.

“You got it Lee, baby. I’ll call up Gilly and Chucky, maybe Letty too. We’ll get shit straightened up in a blink.” Coco assures me.

“I’m ready if you are, Coco.” Kendra says.

Coco nods his head, and Kendra gives me a hug as she takes my keys to my Jeep and they leave the house shortly after.

Angel stands in the kitchen as I remain at the table.

“Where are you going to stay if you’re not in that apartment?” He asks out of curiosity.

I shrug my shoulders, “Maybe with Kendra for a hot second, until I can find somewhere else. Maybe a house even. I’m going to need a fresh start in the worst way.” I admit.

Angel just nods his head as if he agrees with what I’ve said.

“Do you mind if I go lay down for a little?” I ask.

“Of course, babe. Go get some rest. I just need to finish this one thing with my bike, but I’ll come check on you in a little bit.”

I go into Angel’s room and situate myself in his bed yet again.

It feels so natural, to be in his bed.

I see the shirt I wore to bed last night laying on his bed; I pick it up and hold it to me, just for a moment of comfort. If Angel can’t lay next to me right now, at least I have something of his to help me settle down.

I hear the faint noise of some classic rock being played outside on the radio, and I laugh as I find some comfort in that genre. I drift off to sleep for what I think is a day, but when Angel checks on me, I’m made aware it has only been 45 minutes.

He didn’t mean to wake me, but he did. I could feel his presence and he came in his room to change his shirt as the other one had been covered in dirt and grease.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says as he slips his dirty shirt off.

I’m a little groggy, but when he’s standing there shirtless, I quickly get it together.

So many tattoos. So much…Angel. Like, what?

As I’m taking the view in, I scan his body as I never looked at Angel in this kind of way.

That’s when I see his scar on his abdomen, from a few weeks ago.

He catches my gaze at his stomach and he tries to cover it up.

“No, Angel. I mean, please, don’t hide it. Do you mind if I see it?” I ask, motioning for him to come to the bed.

He reluctantly obliges, and I reach my hand out to his stomach, by his scar. He takes a small step back, and I see goosebumps form.

I look up in his eyes, and even from this viewpoint, he is as tall as a tree.

“It’s healing nicely. That makes me happy.” I softly say.

Angel nods in agreement.

“Can I ask you something else?” I ask.

“Go for it.” He says.

“Who did that to you? Who would want to hurt you? Is it wrong for me to think Adelita had a hand in this?” I ask, because ever since that night – I did wonder if Adelita did that as a strategic move.

Angel runs his hand over his face as he now sits next to me on the bed.

“I do know who did this to me.” He starts out.

He takes another breath and grabs my bandaged hand.

“And part of me believes you know who had a hand in this too.” He gently says as his warm eyes stare into my lifeless ones.

Rage starts to fill my body, if Adelita had any part in having Angel and Coco attacked, I’m going to become a fucking serial killer.

Angel sees my face change, and he can’t help but laugh nervously.

“Easy there Cujo.”Angel warns with a sly smile.

“There is nothing comical here, Angel. What do you mean I already know? Are you telling me Adelita is the one who fucking stabbed you?” I ask with venom.

I slowly sit up more, now I’m basically sitting on my knees in his bed, ready to fucking lunge out of bed to lead my own manhunt.

“She didn’t touch me. But, there was no intruder. The person that stabbed me, it was one of her rebel kids. One of the teens.” He admits to me.

And my mind is blown.

What the fuck does he mean? A teenager did this to him?

My resting bitch face is back in full force only now, I have a confused resting bitch face.

“Details, Angel. You need to tell me the details, what the fuck happened?” I demand.

Angel moves closer to me on the bed, “Leah, breathe babe.” He says in a warning tone.

I take a breath and sit back with my legs crossed.

“Please, Angel. Please tell me who did this to you?” I beg, and for a split second, I have a flashback to last night when he practically asked me the same thing regarding Erik.

“Déjà vu.” He says as he inches a tiny bit closer. He takes my hand again and just rubs circles on the top of my bandaged hand.

“You know how the rebels have people of all ages, from adults to kids. Adelita has a handful of teens that are her go-to’s for shit. One of those little shitheads, he never liked me around. Always made snarky comments when I went to visit Adelita. The last few months, I spent more and more time down there, just trying to distract myself from the EZ bullshit. But um, this kid – Rocco, they call him, he just, he didn’t like me. He made it known he felt I was a threat to what Adelita was building, and he well, he fucking stabbed me and his other shithead friend was the one who shot Coco and I. Did Adelita know they were going to do this? Absolutely not. The look in her eyes when this happened, I’ve never seen that pain before.”

Fuck.

What kind of world am I living in?I think to myself.

“What Rocco and his friend did to you, is that why you broke up with Adelita?” I ask softly.

Angel leans in towards me, our foreheads meet for a few moments, silence fills the air.

“That story is for another day, babe.” He tells me as he places a kiss on my forehead.

I let out a giggle when his lips meet my head again.

He leans back and quirks a look, “What?”

“I should start charging you a dollar every time you kiss my forehead. I’d be a millionaire by dinnertime.” I reply with sass but with a smile.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that sass.” He says, ignoring my comment of the forehead kisses but I don’t mind.

I smile and lay back down, Angel reaches and puts a piece of my hair behind my ear. He then notices the shirt on his pillow, the one I wore last night.

I instantly get nervous, “Umm, I put it there as like a security blanket since you were outside.” I awkwardly say.

He smiles when I say that, and he reaches for it and puts the shirt on.

“I think I could use a power snooze, mind if I join you?” He asks as he starts to crawl to his spot on the bed.

No words form or come out fast enough, but I nod my head as shock takes over my face.

He put on the shirt he lent me…and he is now laying next to me…again.

I instantly curl up next to him and he puts an arm around me.

No other words are said in that moment, it’s the most comfortable silence I’ve ever endured.

It isn’t until he places one more forehead kiss that I take the opportunity to say something.

“And that’s another dollar.” I jokingly say as I stare up at him for a second. He smirks at me and gets more comfortable in the bed.

“My Leah, my Leah, my Leah – what am I going to do with you?” He says as he trails off and that is when we both drift off to sleep.

Just as my eyes close and I feel myself drifting back to sleep, I manage to finally find some peace and comfort. I do not feel scared or afraid right now. I feel safe…again, and that’s all because of Angel.

[odderancyart]

Retribution

Chapter 8

First

Last

On AO3

Summary: A late night, after yet another unfruitful day with no work, Detective Edge Serif receives a phonecall from the countryside. There seems to have been a murder.

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Swearing, Past Abuse, Past Rape (of a character not in the story)

His head aches as he slowly regains consciousness, blinking against the blinding light. As he tries to lean forward, he finds he can’t. He jerks at his hands, finding he can’t move them either. There’s something keeping them stuck to the arms of the chair he’s in. What happened...?

Images. They flash before his eyes. A bedroom, letters with the British royal crest, Papyrus with a fire poker. He’d been knocked unconscious. Edge twitches as it all comes back to him and he throws his eyes open, even as his head throbs at the sudden assault of light. He’s still in the bedroom. By the writing desk, Papyrus stands, stirring a cup of tea as he watches him. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have allowed himself to get so distracted that he didn’t notice Papyrus coming into the room? His eyes catch on the gun lying next to Papyrus on the desk. His gun.

“You’re awake,” Papyrus notes. “Good.” The spoon chinks as it hits the walls of the porcelain cup, painted with roses. The cook smiles, almost apologetically. “I am terribly sorry I had to tie you up, but you really shouldn’t have come and ferreted around my room. It’s terribly rude.”

Edge tries to speak, but as he does, only muffled noises comes out. His eyes widen. In his stupor, he hadn’t realized he had a cloth stuffed into his mouth. When he glares at the other, Papyrus only tsks. “Don’t look so mad. I can’t have you yelling, you surely must understand that? I’ve reached my goal – getting revenge on the bastard who destroyed my brother’s – my entire family’s – life for many years because of something as stupid as racism. You Americans should know something about that, shouldn’t you? But it works somewhat differently home in Europe.” Disgust covers his face as he sips his tea. “I’ve lived my entire life in Wales. I was born there, and so was my brother. And our parents. But because our grandfather came from Bulgaria, from Eastern Europe, apparently we cannot be trusted. Lazy, they call us. Thieves. Not that you’re different here. Had I attempted to enter with my own name, I am certain I would’ve met a lot more resistance.”

There’s so much bitterness in his voice. Edge stares at him, and Papyrus stares back. “What do you say? Do you think they would’ve been as happy to let in Nikolay Todorov as they were to let in Papyrus Safont, Doctor Gaster’s personal cook? Would your Immigration Act have let me? Even though I’m two generations British?” When Edge remains quiet, he grinned humourlessly. “I didn’t think so.”

And he was right. Maybe his British citizenship would’ve been enough, but Edge has seen the distrust for Southern and Eastern Europeans first-hand. They are seen as threats – competition for jobs and housing, and people fear they’ll undermine American values and cause Bolshevik revolution similar to the one in Russia during the War. Stupidity, Edge would’ve said if anyone had ever bothered to ask for his opinion. If they came to America, he can only imagine it is because they wanted to live in America, not in Russia.

After putting his cup down on the desk, Papyrus saunters over to him, smiling sweetly. “Never mind all that. You look like you want to ask something.” He holds up a vial with powder. “If you make any unnecessary noises, I will shove this down your throat, and you’ll die an incredibly painful death. So better not do anything stupid, alright?” Edge nods slowly. Papyrus – Nikolay – beams. “Wonderful! See how simple things are when you cooperate?”

He pulls the gag out of Edge’s mouth, and Edge coughs, opening and closing it a couple times. Oh God, his mouth feels like a desert. Concern glimmers in Nikolay’s eyes, and he takes a few steps over to the bedtable, where a water pitcher stands, together with a glass. After pouring some into the glass, he offers it to Edge. Edge eyes it suspiciously, and he rolls his eyes, taking a sip himself. “See? It’s not poisoned. Drink, friend.”

As he puts it to Edge’s mouth, Edge does as told. Both because he does not wish to make him mad and because he genuinely needs it. When it’s empty, and his throat feels less rough, he sighs in relief before looking up at Pa- Nikolay. He looks genuinely sorry for what the situation has come to. But why would he? If he didn’t mind framing Stretch, why would he be care about Edge? That’s his first question.

Nikolay shrugs. “In all honesty, I wanted Blue to be the one. His loyalty to the Gasters is sickening. Can’t seem to see any of their faults, even when his own brother is being abused. But since anyone who knew him would know how he poured his soul into serving them until the point that’s what his life is about, and they would’ve realized he never would have, Stretch was the second best. Doing it to Sir Razz would’ve simply been stupid: his family is incredibly powerful. At least this way, I get to Blue somehow. He adored that family nearly as much as I hate them. In all honesty, I almost feel bad for him. Almost. Plus, I haven’t missed how he speaks about my heritage. He’s just like everyone else. Up on his high horses thinking he’s better than me because he’s a pure-blooded Englishman. And now his own brother is getting sentenced for the last Gaster’s murder.” He hums, the bitterness gone as fast as it came. “You get two more questions, and then I’m afraid I’ll have to get rid of you before it’s too late. I am not an unkind monster, I’d feel awful to kill you when you’re so close to solving the mystery.”

“How did you do all of this? Why wait so long?” Edge’s head spins with all the new information, but he forces himself to focus. The longer he can keep Papy- Nikolay rambling, the more time he has to get out of here. Dying is not in this week’s schedule, especially not by a cook.

The other’s smile widens. “It wasn’t hard. When your brother is a former MI6-spy, falsifying papers and learning about poisons is a child’s play. We simply made up a reasonable backstory, fixed some papers, and then I went to search employment at the Gasters. As for why so long? I’m a patient man. I very much did not wish to be new as I did it – my foreign ancestry already made me suspicious enough, since everyone’s bigoted. And your third question?”

His last.

There were multiple things he wants to know. Why, exactly, he is doing this. How he’s managed to keep this act up for such a long time. If he hasn’t grown fond of the brothers during the time he’s worked with them, even a little? How he can do such a thing to Stretch of all people. But in all honesty, there is one thing that’s more pressing to him than anything else.

Edge’s soul pounds in his chest as he stares into Nikolay’s eyes. His eyelights are soft as he meets his gaze, almost remorseful. Nonetheless, they’re determined, and Edge has no delusions about him changing his mind and letting him go. “What are you going to do with me?”

Nikolay’s smile softens. “Oh that’s easy. I’m going to give you some Cerbera odollam-seeds. The former owner of the manor had a poison greenhouse and I’ve been caring for it. I’m very sorry to tell you it won’t be painless. Then, once you fall into a coma, I’ll shove you off the west wing. It’ll look like you fell.” He crouches down so he can reach into the secret compartment. Picking up a vial holding several brown seeds, he shakes it gently. “I doubt you’ll get the sort of investigation he got – you’re a nobody, aren’t you? No family to speak of, no money?”

Edge remains quiet, face paling. He’s right. There’s a much too big risk that he’ll simply get written off as an accident or a suicide. Especially in these times. After the Crash, so many committed suicides, and he was born into a short life-expectancy group.

“Thought so.”

The house creaks around them as Nikolay steps forward. Edge feels his palms start to sweat as he leans backwards in the chair, as far away as he can. He squeezes his teeth shut as his breathing shallows. Something moves behind Nikolay, silently, slowly. A hand grips his jaw tight, starting to pry it open. Edge fights him, eyes trained at the other’s face. Nikolay’s expression is determined as he digs the tip of a phalange in between Edge’s teeth.

Edge struggles, throwing his head to the side and rocking the chair, which makes the other’s expression harden. The chair legs scrape against the floor. The finger slides in deeper, and Edge lets out a squawk as his mouth is bended open. Triumph shines in Nikolay’s eyes as he plops the cork of the vial with his thumb. It falls to the floor with a quiet thump. The seeds rustles inside the vial. A dark shape appears behind Nikolay, making his soul skip a beat as he attempts to throw away with his head again, to no avail. The cook has an iron grip on his jaw, his fingers hooked into it, keeping his mouth open.

His eyes flicker to the shape behind, widening. Apparently, Nikolay notices.

“Wha-” he says, turning to look over his shoulder. Thuck.

Edge gapes as his eyelights roll back in his eyes and he sinks to the floor with a groan. Behind him, holding a broomstick raised in the air, stands Blue. His face is still red from tears and his suit is crumpled, but fury is written on his face as he lowers the broomstick, glaring down at Nikolay in disgust. Edge can’t help but stare at the right-hand man in shock. Without a word, Blue drives the end of the broomstick into Nikolay’s head once more before shoving him to the side, facing Edge.

“Are you alright, sir?” he asks. Edge nods mutely. “I was looking for you. Inspector Fuente wanted to speak with you.” He picks up a handkerchief from his pocket, rubbing his red cheeks. “Let me untie you.”

“Yeah,” Edge says loftily. Holy shit. His mind spins as he tries to process the last few moments, now when the adrenaline is sinking away. “Please.”

Nimble fingers soon loosen the ropes keeping him stuck to the chair around his waist, arms, and legs. “I can’t believe-” Blue stops to stare at the body of the murderer he’s just knocked out. “Yes, he’s-” He shakes his head. “I know I said I suspected him, but I can’t believe he’d frame my brother.” New tears welled up, which he was quick to wipe away with his handkerchief. He smiles wetly. “But that means my brother is innocent. I knew it. I knew Stretch wasn’t a murderer.”

“So did I,” Edge murmurs, and Blue’s smile widens.

Once Edge is free, standing up and stretching his stiff limbs, they stare at the body.

“So what are we doing with him, sir?”

Edge smiles faintly. He’s shivering – almost getting murdered will do that to you. “We bring him to Inspector Fuente and get your brother back.”

Soon, he carries the unconscious Nikolay like a potato sack over his shoulder upstairs while Blue brings the evidence. The vials and the letters, and some of the ropes Edge had been tied up with. They use the others to tie up Nikolay.

Inspector Fuente and Sir Razz are standing in the main hall, conversing, as they show up. Both of them stare as Edge drops the unconscious cook on the ground.

“Here’s your murderer,” he says.

For a few beats, the room is completely silent.

“He nearly killed me too,” he adds, “but Blue knocked him out.”

Another couple seconds of silence follow. Blue holds up the poisons and hands over the letters to Inspector Fuente.

“The murder weapon, the attempted murder weapon, and his motivation.” Edge rolls his shoulders. God, Pa- Nikolay is heavy. But he is, of course, a grown man so nothing else was to be expected, really. He looks at Sir Razz. “It seems as though your husband, sir, destroyed his brother’s career within MI6 because of their Bulgarian descent. Because of racism, clear and simple.” He gives them a brief summary of the last hour.

“May I have my brother back now?” Blue demands, stepping forward and actually glaring at the inspector. Sir Razz blinks in surprise. “He’s innocent. As I said.”

Inspector Fuente huffs, shock, amazement, and amusement all playing on his face as he looks between Edge and Blue. He nods. “Yes, we’ll go into Deadford and get him out of the arrest. This case took an unexpected turn.”

If he’s worried someone will say anything to the Police about him being wrong, or if he even cares, he doesn’t show it. Nonetheless, Edge puts a hand on Blue’s shoulder, receiving a questioning gaze, before he nods back. “I do believe we have solved this case,” he says.

The inspector raises an eyebrow, but nods, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. “Yes… It seems we have.” He dips his hat to Sir Razz. “Well, sir, we better get going.”

Sir Razz nods as well before turning to his right-hand man. “Blue, you go with the inspector and get your brother. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that the most.” Blue nodded quickly. “And Detective Serif, come with me and I’ll pay you what I owe. And a bonus for almost getting murdered.”

Edge can’t help but grin. “I appreciate it, sir.”

…

And then he is back where it all began.

He regards his reflection in his office window before looking outside at the dark street. A beggar sits bundled up in some stairs, a wild dog wanders by. The rain is, as always, pouring down over Deadford, smattering against asphalt and windows. It’s in the middle of the day, so the occasional car comes by and some pedestrians walk by, too used to the rain to bother with trying to escape it. It’s still dark: the clouds are black as coal as they spit heaven’s fury down over the town, as lightning and thunder flashes and booms.

For the first time in his life, he’d opened a bank account. Sir Razz had paid him seven hundred dollars for his services, and he’s never had that much money in his entire life. And since he does not feel safe keeping that money in his office or his shared apartment, the bank seems like the most logical choice. For once, he does not worry about ending up on the street eventually. He’s not about to buy any frivolities, though, like some others may have. In times like these, that money is best kept as backup in case he’ll lack food or be unable to pay the rent one day.

A purring comes from the side and he smiles as a white cat steps on the hand he has planted on the windowsill, demanding attention. He scratches her ear before stroking his hand down her back. Luckily, being away hadn’t destroyed his relationship with that beautiful cat on the street: in fact, once he came back, she’d been willing to move in with him. Her name is Doomfanger now. A beautiful, hairy cat with a scar running down along her right eye and torn ears that has seen better days. He loves her already.

His fingertips slide over the cold glass as he pets her, making him shiver, and she licks them, looking pleased with herself. Taking her into his arms, he walks over to the desk. Details from a new case already covers his desk: with Sir Razz’s commendations on his resumé, he suddenly turned into a highly sought for private detective. For now, he does not need to worry about money at all, for the first time in his life.

It feels good.

It knocks on the door, thrice, and he raises an eyebrow as he opens his arms so Doomfanger will jump. She lands on the floor with a quiet thump, staring at him in offence. The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. Apparently he isn’t allowed to put her down already. She lounges in the back of the room as he steps over to the door. Who would visit him at this time of day, in this weather?

The door creaks as he opens it, and a dark shape is revealed in the dark hallway. Once his eyes get used to the dim light, he hums in surprise. Dressed in a huge coat with its collar pulled up halfway over his face, stands Stretch. Edge steps to the side, gesturing for him to come in, and he does, waterdrops sliding off his coat and down on the floorboards.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you?” Stretch asks, folding down his collar to reveal his face. His teeth chatters, and his smile is nervous.

Edge shakes his head, smiling. “Not at all. I am very sorry I didn’t say goodbye, but I was worried about overstaying my welcome.” He gestures toward the coat-hanger before stepping back a few steps so he can pull out a bottle whisky from his desk drawer. Alcohol may be illegal but literally who the fuck cares? He places two glasses on the table. “Whisky? You look cold.”

“Thank you,” he says as he pulls of his coat, hanging it up next to Edge’s. Doomfanger stares at him from behind the desk, distrustful.

Once Edge has poured up two glasses with honey-brown liquid, he hands one of the glasses to Stretch before sitting down in one of the two old leather armchairs by the wall, gesturing for the other to do the same, which he does. The armchair squeaks and sways as Stretch sits down, and for a moment worry flashes over his face, as though he’s wondering if the armchair is going to break beneath him.

“And I understand.” Stretch smuts at his whisky, sighing in relief as he drinks. “Sir Razz can be intimidating. I came to say thank you. You know. For not stopping investigating.”

Taking a gulp of his own whisky, feeling it burn pleasantly in his throat, Edge shakes his head. “Of course. I- There was something about it that didn’t feel right. I didn’t think you were capable of doing such a thing… And you weren’t.”

“No.” He stares into his glass as he swirls the liquid around it. “I hated Dr Gaster. Hated him, with all my soul. I would’ve resigned the day I turned eighteen and taken employment in the factories, if Blue hadn’t- Yeah. I couldn’t leave my brother. He would’ve been heartbroken, and mother and father would’ve broken all contact with me, and made him do so too, just like they later did with Clara – our older sister-”

Edge nods. The sister who ran away to run a Scottish tavern in Minnesota with her partner. He can only assume that meant she isn’t married. In all honesty, he can’t help but admire her guts.

“-but no, I couldn’t hurt the doctor. Not that I didn’t occasionally want to throw wine in his face, damn the consequences, but no. Never.”

“You’re a better person than me,” Edge murmurs. “If my foreman is still alive, and I met him, he’d be lucky if I only punched him.”

Flashing him a quick smile, Stretch downs the rest of his whisky. “Well. You’d be justified. At least I was never physically hurt.” He sighs. “But now when I know how disgustingly he acted during the War – I didn’t even know he was in the War, we all got to hear he spent a year at Université Paris-Sorbonne – I feel even more that he truly did deserve what he got.”

“He did.”

Even if what Nikolay did was truly abhorrent as well. But the trial was coming up, and with the evidence against him, Edge didn’t doubt he’d spend a lot of time paying for his crimes.

By now, also Stretch has finished his whisky. He glances at the clock, and then at Edge. There’s something wishful on his face as he moves to stand. “Maybe I should go back before it gets too late. I just wanted to thank you.”

“You can-” Edge says before he can stop himself before cutting himself off. Stretch’s eyes flicker to him, something almost hopeful shining in there, and Edge relaxes. “One of my roommates is out of town. If you’d like, you can borrow his bed. It’s not as fancy as a manor, but it’s warm and dry. That was you don’t have to travel back in this weather.”

The smile that lits up Stretch’s face makes it impossible for him not to return it, smiling just as warmly.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

The End

[blackcatt4211]

Hello everyone! This message goes out to all the fans of monsters under my bed. If you haven’t checked it out already I highly recommend it, I’ll leave a link in the description below.

For anyone who hasn’t read ‘monsters under my bed’. here is the link I hope you enjoy and tell me what you think of it. I’m always open to suggestions and advice for the story to make it more enjoyable for you. all suggestions are taken very seriously and I alway love hearing positive feed back. It helps keep me motivated when I know ppl enjoy my work. also Here is the summary and tags to what this book is about.

WARNING!!! This is a rated ‘R’ story filled with graphic violence, nudity, and fowl laguage. People who are under the age of 18 shouldn’t be reading this. It is a very mature (not really mature but more for adults) book and if you don’t like this type of content. Simple answer... don’t read

I will tell you now I do not tolerate hate comments on my work so please lets be friends every one :3 mew

(please scroll down more for the update on ‘Monsters under my bed’)

Monsters under my bed

by

BlackCatt4211

Fandoms:

Undertale (Video Game)

Not Rated

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

F/M, M/M, Multi

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Rape/Non-Con

female reader/Sans

female reader/papyrus

female reader/Red

female reader/ Edge

female reader/Slim

female reader/Black

female reader/Blue

female reader/Stretch

Swapfell frontcest

Alphys/Undyne (Underswap)

Female Reader - Character

Swapfell!Papyrus

Swapfell!Sans

Underswap!Papyrus

Underswap!Sans

Undertale!Sans

Undertale!Papyrus

underfell!papyrus

underfell!sans

Underlust!Sans

Underlust!Papyrus

genderswap!Sandra

Genderswap Papi

Underswap!Undyne

Underswap!Alphys

Sibling Incest

Mistress

Hiding a true self

menchen of self harm

Sex

Smutt

Massages

Fluff

Cute and fun dates

awkward moments

Teasing

may add more tags

Attempted Rape/Non-Con

suggestion of HoneyMustard

Suggestion of PuffBerry

graphic description of violence

Threesome - F/M/M

Polyandry

Troubled Past

Slim's a pervert

Douche bag ex boyfriend

Violence against women

Summary

You lost your job, your boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend, and got kicked out of your apartment. Where do you go? A trip to the bar should help you think. Little did you know... that night changed your life forever.....

Hello all my fans, friends, and followers. We have come a long way from when we first started this book. It was originally just a side project, a random Idea that came to my mind at the time. After reading TONS of Undertale fan-fictions and comics, seeing all this fan art, (and working on actual side projects that was sadly never completed or never got posted, still have all my work but some of it is just terrible lol) I finally decided what to find out what it’s like to write a story based on the reader’s side of the story.

technically, my first readers view was a different book called “Finding Myself”. My first attempted of a reader’s P.O.V. book with Underfell!Papyrus/Reader/Underfell!Sans relationship. it was also my first experimentation of a 3-way relationship. It was about how our dear reader fell into a teffying place, Underfell and was found by UF!Sans. he took her back to his place where later on you meet UF!Papyrus and you fake a relationship with UF!Sans in order to live. UF!Papyrus gains an interested in you and thats when things started going wrong. you realize you have this dangerous amount of power and it becomes a terrible problem. (There’s a brief description on ‘finding myself for those of you who are interested.)

I had never attempted anything like it before and unforchanetly, I have gone on a hiatus on it due to lack of motivation and that this book is pretty much the only work I was focused the most on when I started getting more and more encouragement and suggested just pored in so when ‘Monsters under my bed, took off ‘Finding Myself’ was sadly left behind as of many of my other works. However, that doesn't mean I abandoned it. As of my other works.

See when I get an Idea I always write it down and come back to it, because life can get very, very busy. So I can always come back to any work I choose even if years had past. Pretty neat huh. However, in order for me to get the motivation to return to any past works, I need motivation (such as comments, like’s and suggestions). So for those of you who want me to work on older work you gotta tell me. But thats not why you guys are here.

For those of you who haven’t left yet from my ramblings heres a brief update on most of the change’s in ‘Monsters under my bed’ ;

Major Changes

‘Mistress’ Is no longer chapter 1 and became the introduction

The fighting scenes updated

The interaction with Slim outside in the parking lot is a little longer

Most (if not every)  grammar mistakes has been fixed

The reader now wakes up differently next to Slim

Texted edited in Grammar and spelling

Text updated based on Characters

Updated fluff scenes with certain characters to add more fluff and feels

Chapter’s 2,3,4 is now chapter 1 and is now called ‘Where am I? When do I move in?’ (Word count 4003)

Chapter’s 5,6,7 is now chapter 2 (Word count 3575)

Chapter’s 8,9,10 is now chapter 3 (work count 3690)

Chapter’s 11,12,13 is now Chapter 4 (word count 3132)

Chapter’s 14,15, 16 is now chapter 5 (word count 3718 )

Chapter’s 17, 18, 19 is now chapter  6 (word count 3641)

Chapter’s 20, 21, 22 is now chapter 7 (word count 4427)

Chapter’s 23, 24, 25 is now chapter 8 (word count 3351)

Chapter’s 26, 27, 28 is now chapter 9 (word count 3411)

Chapter’s 29, 30, 31, 32 is now chapter 10 (word count 5108)

Chapter’s 33, 34, 35 is now chapter 11 (word count 3654)

Chapter’s 36, 37, 38 is now chapter 12 and is now called ‘A date with Red’ (word count 3477)

Chapter’s 39, 40, 41, 42 is now chapter 13 (word count 4659)

Chapter’s 43, 44, 45 is now chapter 14 (word count 3657)

Chapter’s 46, 47, 48 is now chapter 15 (word count 3814)

Thats all the change’s thats happened so far. If I miss any I will repost the list with the newer one’s highlighted. I’m thinking about posting updates o the book about the books development every two weeks. what do you guys think about that?

hopefully you all will want me to post more of these. I love communicating with my fans and this helps so that everyone isn't in the dark about the book. I didn't post descriptive change’s for those who haven’t read it but are interested so sorry no one can see the actual change’s (unless they are an editor) until the update has been completed. With the drastic change in chapters and lengths i feel it be to comfusing to post as I go along so it will have to wait till me and my best friend @SofiatheHedgehog I highly suggest you check her out on Wattpad. she is a very talented Author who’s been helping on this project. I don’t think I’d make it this far without her honestly. So if your reading this Sophia, thank you Sissy! You’re a very talented author and im proud to be your friend :3

you guys can come check me out on twitter if you want and if you came from twitter, welcome to my tumblr page :)

Anyways thankyou for taking the time read this update and hopefully I will see you guys next time in the development of ‘Monster’s under my bed’. If you have any thought’s or questions, feel free to leave a comment message me. :3

Love you guys! Mew <3

[stopforamoment]

Identity

My masterlist is at the end of my bio. Please check it out or message me if you have questions or would like to be tagged in anything!

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OC Rinda Parks Word Count: 1,281 Rating: M for Language Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh. Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3 for always being my sounding board! Thank you @cora-nova @silviasutton1989 @bobasheebaby​ @riseandshinelittleblossom​ for still being a part of the journey! Drabble Summary: Even though Rinda is happy in her relationship with Bastien and doesn’t miss wearing her wedding ring because of Jameson, she occasionally misses the protection that comes with wearing a wedding ring. There are still some things she wants to figure out for herself as an unmarried woman.

Identity

“Sweetheart, what happened today?” Rinda blushed, realizing she was flicking her bare ring finger. It was a habit she developed when she wore Jameson’s ring, a talisman to protect her from unwanted attention. Even while wearing it she sometimes felt exposed and that’s when she flicked . . . but now nothing was there to protect her. She gave a non-committal shrug. “It wasn’t that something happened. I think I was being too friendly.” She paused and shook her head. Rape Culture. That wasn’t what she meant, but Bastien knew it too and he patiently waited as she collected her thoughts. “I sometimes forget that I’m not wearing a wedding ring. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. When I’m being me and people know me, they know it’s my silliness and inappropriate sense of humor. At most, innocent flirtation. But when they don’t know me yet, and their eyes look for a ring and it isn’t there, I panic and think that I’m sending the wrong message. But when I think that happens, how do I blurt out that I need to clarify that I’m in a relationship—without sounding paranoid or arrogant, like I assume everyone wants me just because I made them laugh?” She sighed. “I still haven’t figured out how to be myself without the protection of a wedding ring.” It was true. Rinda was able to transition from being a widow to being a girlfriend. She was in a committed relationship with Bastien—it never crossed her mind to be with anyone else. But in her mind that made silly joking even more acceptable, because obviously it didn’t mean anything because she was so in love with him. Except there wasn’t a ring, a physical sign to others that her heart already belonged to someone. And being in a relationship with Bastien made Rinda . . . well, bloom. She didn’t realize it, but others did. She was more confident. Happier. Secure. Yes, that was partly because of her career and community in Cordonia. But there was something else. A sexuality. A sense of womanhood that re-emerged for Rinda now that she was loved again in that emotional and physical way. And people noticed it more than Rinda even realized. They had this conversation before, and sometimes Bastien teased Rinda that if she just wore lower-cut shirts she could tattoo “Bastien’s Val” and “Bastien’s Kenna” on her breasts. It was no secret that sometimes people’s eyes would linger there, appreciating how her professional clothing with the modest necklines still enhanced one of her best physical assets. But as long as Rinda didn’t mind, Bastien didn’t either. He couldn’t say that he blamed them. Bastien also joked he would just have to put a ring on it. And he would. But then Rinda rambled about how she needed to figure out how to be a girlfriend again. Not that she wasn’t a good girlfriend. She meant that she needed to figure out how to function without the authority of being a wife. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. Being a girlfriend didn’t have the weight of being a wife. It didn’t have the weight of the ring on her finger. Now that she took off Jameson’s ring, now that she wasn’t protected by that shroud of widowhood or a symbolic piece of jewelry, she felt vulnerable. And she didn’t like being called Bastien’s girlfriend, and she didn’t like calling Bastien her boyfriend. It felt too immature to her. Not after ten years of being a wife and then a horrific year-and-a-half of being a widow. Not with how deeply she loved Bastien and how deeply he loved her. She wasn’t Bastien’s girlfriend. She was his Tria. Everyone who knew them knew that she was his Tria—the name that only he could call her. And even though there were many at the palace who would never openly admit it to Bastien, everyone knew that he was Rinda’s Tiger. The pet name that only she could use—not just because it was her own special endearment for him. But how do you tell that to a complete stranger? “Is he your boyfriend?” “No, he’s my SchatziTiger. And I’m his Tria.” Bastien knew that he needed to give Tria time to figure that out. Officially she was still Mrs. Parks, and she was fine with that. Even with being “Mrs.” Instead of “Ms.” Being Jameson’s wife influenced who she was today, and she wasn’t going to change back to her maiden name. That wasn’t her anymore, and the children knew her as “Mrs.” Parks. When she was at the university she was “Dr.” Parks. She liked that identity. She missed that part of her life and was happy to have it back. When she first got married, Rinda gladly changed her name to Lorinda Rose Parks. Rinda Parks. Her personal preference was that she didn’t want to hyphenate her last name because she now identified part of herself as Jameson’s wife. She was happy to have the societal label of being Jameson’s wife instead of being Rinda Desrosiers, her father’s child. But professionally she went by Dr. Rinda Desrosiers-Parks. The hyphen was just to ensure other that professionals still recognized her, her work. She was still the same person, even if her last name legally changed. Then as the years went by, the hyphen was gradually dropped because it wasn’t necessary anymore. Everyone knew her professional identity. Knew her work. She continued to establish herself after her marriage, so she could relax into Dr. Parks. Even though Rinda was still comfortable being Rinda Parks, when she and Bastien married she was wanted to legally become Mrs. Lykel. No hyphen. She wouldn’t be Mrs. Parks anymore. However, she did tease Bastien that it would be especially important that people called her Rinda after they married. Rinda Lykel? Yes. Lorinda Lykel? Yuck. That sounded stupid. But she would hyphenate her professional name, at least for awhile. Dr. Rinda Parks-Lykel. She was already establishing herself as Dr. Parks, so she would hyphenate until everyone knew Dr. Parks and Dr. Lykel were the same woman. Well, they wouldn’t really be the same woman. Rinda changed so much since she met Bastien. But professionally, she was the same person. But that was getting too far ahead of herself. She had to first figure out how to have a conversation with someone without feeling guilty that she gave the wrong impression. Fuck. She still wasn’t saying it right. But Bastien helped her deflect as he led her to the bathroom mirror and teasingly told her to work on her RBF. Resting Bitch Face. She laughed and hugged him as he held up his phone, the Urban Dictionary app open to help him find the right phrase. God, she loved how he could make her laugh and make everything okay. And he playfully booped her nose and scolded her that a resting bitch face does not include luminous green eyes or a deep belly laugh. He loved her so much, and even though he wanted to fix everything for her, he knew she needed to figure this one out on her own. And she would. He just had to be patient, even though Bastien’s patience had limitations. For some reason his Tria wasn’t taking her silly Tiger’s advice about the RBF seriously. In fact, Rinda was quite sure RBF had another meaning. Rinda’s Bastien Forever? Routinely Being Fucked? He finally admitted defeat and gave up on helping Rinda with her Resting Bitch Face. He also happily resigned himself to being his Tria’s Really Big Fucking Bastien when her playful kisses turned into deeper, passionate kisses.

[veteran-shipper]

Voltron’s Anatomy

part 2 of ???

so i realize that doing all how-many-bajillion episodes of grey’s anatomy is an improbable task. i’ll probably be mixing and matching episodes because ain’t nobody got time for that, least of all me. plus, let’s be real. we were really only in it for Der and Mer’s Epic Love Story. 

alternatively titled: never air to breathe (never inbetweens).

Pidge slams her locker shut in frustration. “I have got to move out from my parents’ place,” she announces, yanking viciously at her shoelaces. 

“What’s up?” Hunk asks, his forehead creased with concern. 

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m just sick and tired of all the tension because my brother Matt has been MIA. It feels like I’ve been walking on eggshells ever since I moved back for residency. They’re being overprotective, and as much as I understand, I’m a god damn adult, and I can handle the shifts I signed on for. The fact that they also work here is literally my worst nightmare. I can’t believe I agreed to come back.” 

“Why don’t you move into my place, then?” Keith suggests, shrugging his white coat on. “I have the space.”

“I thought you were trying to sell it?” Hunk says, mildly surprised. “What changed?”

Keith shrugs. “I just never got around to it. Plus, I moved back here, didn’t I? Might as well keep it around and get some roommates. It’s practically a family heirloom at this point. What do you say? I’ll keep rent reasonable.”

“I’ll think about it,” Pidge says with a shrug. 

“Sure, just let me know whenever. I have two rooms up for grabs if you want in, too, Hunk,” Keith adds. 

“It would be nice to be in a full house again,” Hunk says wistfully. “I’ve basically been crashing on my uncle’s couch since moving here from Hawaii.” 

The three of them approach Altea for their assignments of the day. Altea’s eyes narrow. “Where’s Lance?” she asks. Keith shoves his hands in his coat pockets and shrugs. 

“Dr. Altea! Sorry to keep you waiting!” Lance skids to a stop, just barely keeping a tray of coffees from tipping over. “I brought you a coffee--mocha, soy, just the way you like it.” 

Altea looks slightly mollified as she plucks the coffee out of the tray. “Thank you, Lance, but next time, apologize by being on time,” she says dryly. “You’re on code team. Keith, take the trauma pager. Pidge, deliver the weekend lab results to their patients. Hunk, you’re on sutures.” She turns on her heels and starts to walk away. 

“Dr. Altea!” Lance says, stopping her in her tracks. “I was wondering if I could assist you in the OR today? I think I’m ready. You know, for a minor procedure or something like that.” 

“Hey! If he gets to cut, I want to cut, too!” Pidge says, elbowing Lance out of the way.

“Me too!” Keith interjects. 

Hunk gulps. “Yeah, I guess,” he adds lamely.

“Okay, stop.” Altea puts her hands on her hips, eyes blue steel. “Every intern wants a chance to perform their first surgery. But that’s not your job. Do you know what your job is? To make me happy. Do I look happy? No, because my interns aren’t doing the jobs I told them to do. Nobody gets to even touch a cadaver until I think you’re ready, understand?” 

“Yes ma’am,” the interns mumble collectively. 

“Now move!” Altea makes a shooing motion with her hands, and the interns scatter off to their various jobs. “Vrepit Sal’s Dead Baby Bike Race starts in six hours and I need my weekend labs run and my code team staffed!”

Shiro was idly tapping on his phone when he spots Keith pressing the button for the elevator. Pocketing his phone, he saunters as casually as he can until he’s within an arm’s length of Keith’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you rode a bike,” he says in Keith’s ear, trying for casual. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” Keith asks, not diverting his attention away from the ticker. 

“No, I mean, a motorbike--a motorcycle,” Shiro backtracks with an internal grimace. The elevator dings, signalling its arrival. Ah, saved by the bell, he thinks to himself. “I have one, too. Never expected Nevada to be such a good place to go for a late night ride.” 

Keith tries to suppress his smile as the elevator’s occupants file out. He and Shiro get on together and stand side by side as they wait for the doors to close. Shiro continues to ramble. “Now I have to like it here. I’m from Seattle. I’m not supposed to like how dry and deserted it is here. I have a thing for motorcycles,” he finishes lamely as the doors close and the serene elevator music starts up. 

“I’m not going out with you,” Keith says to break the monotony of the music.

“Did I ask you do go out with me?” Shiro mentally palms himself in the face. Yes you did, you idiot, he chastises himself. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“I’m not dating you,” Keith reiterates. “And I’m definitely not sleeping with you again. You’re my boss.” 

“I’m your boss’ boss,” Shiro corrects before he can help himself. Idiot! That makes nothing better, his inner monologue whacks him over the head. 

“Regardless, this is inappropriate,” Keith says firmly. “This is grounds for sexual harassment.”

 Shiro turns to face him. “I’m riding an elevator,” he says mildly. 

“Don’t come any closer,” Keith says, a flush riding high on his cheeks, clashing horribly with the orange scrubs. 

“Red’s a good closer on you,” Shiro says, and closes the gap between them, tangling one hand in Keith’s hair, dislodging the little pony tail, and wrapping the other around his waist. Keith flips their positions and pushes Shiro against the elevator wall, smashing his charts haphazardly between their chests as he fights to get closer to Shiro’s mouth. He reaches up to tug Shiro down by the back of his neck, biting gently on his bottom lip, gasping softly at the feel of the cool metal of the prosthetic sliding lower and playing with the waistband of his thin scrubs. 

Just as Shiro’s about to go for the full on ass grab, the elevator dings, and they hastily break apart, Keith’s files spilling onto the floor between the two of them. 

“Oh fuck,” Keith rasps, gathering up the files as quickly as he can and marching off to see his patients. Shiro’s gaze follows him, dazed and forlorn as nurses and other hospital staff file in, none the wiser.

Keith walks into a room filled with nurses and PAs rushing around, a hand absentmindedly on his bottom lip, mind a million floors away with Dr. Shirogane. 

“There you are!” A harried looking PA comes into his field of view. “We’ve got a rape victim. She came in with a GCS of six, BP eighty over sixty. Exam is significant for blunt head trauma, unequal breath sounds, right pupil is dilated. We think she ran right into the bike race,” he rattles off. “She’s ready for x-ray. You ready to roll?” 

Keith blankly surveys the room, taking in the blood on the body, the ruined shoes that haven’t yet been bagged, and--

“Hey!”

“Is that a penis?” Keith asks, peering into the kidney tray. It’s resting on ice, and definitely looking worse for wear. “Yeah/ Call ahead to CT. Let them know I’m coming. Load a portable monitor, and call Respiratory for a ventilator,” he orders, checking her eyes himself and her breathing tube. “I’ll do x-rays while I’m down there.”

The PA grunts in amusement. “Tough lady. Bit it right off. We found it in her mouth.”

“What a warrior,” Keith murmurs softly, checking her chart.

He takes responsibility over her and follows her from her scans into emergency surgery, where he and a couple of the less busy interns observe as Shirogane, Iverson, and Coran work to set her bones back in place and fix the internal bleeding. Shirogane lets out a low whistle as he works on setting her arm. “He really did a number on her. What is she? Five foot two, not even a hundred pounds?”

“Yeah, she’s going to spend a helluva time in recovery,” Coran says, jovial as always. “Really gave him a good walloping, though. Clearly a case of ‘You should see the other guy.’ I heard the rape kit came back negative.” 

“She bit his penis off,” Keith offers. “It was in a kidney dish when I went to go get her for scans.” 

The three attendings heads swivel to look at him, their hands never stopping their work. “What in tarnation?” Iverson says, incredulous. 

“Jesus,” Coran says. “Well, if she can fight off the infection, she can fight off anything.”

They start to close on the patient, and before Keith can slip out to round, he hears Iverson call his name. Or, more accurately, his “designated Intern number assigned by the one-and-only Coran.”

“Intern number 3!” Keith pauses. “I need you to stay with the penis until the police arrive. Chain of custody rules, and all,” he barks. 

Keith blanches. “Seriously?” he asks, looking at the small cooler they’d placed the severed body part in.

“That’s an order, intern!” Iverson says, pulling closed a stitch. Keith sighs and grabs the cooler before exiting. 

Over at the HUB, Pidge sorts through the labs while Lance toys with his pager and gloats about his assignment.

“Code team rocks,” he says with a smug grin. “One minute I get to shock a heart back to life, and the next minute I have my arms full of grateful daughters and sisters.”

Pidge stacks a lab report a little harder than necessary on top of her growing stack. “You know, I have an MD/PhD from Stanford, and I’m delivering patient labs. This is going to take me all day,” she says, annoyed.

Altea whisks by briskly. “Better get started then!” she says, sipping daintily at her mocha latte. “Lance, with me!” she says. “I need as many hands as I can find, and since you’re not doing anything, you’re going to help me wade through this disaster coming in.” Lance’s expression brightens and he hurries after her, pager beeping.

“Oh! Uh, I wasn’t complaining,” Pidge says weakly, grabbing her stack of labs and hurrying off. If she's fast enough, she decides, she might be able to put staples in someone’s wound.

Cooler in hand, Keith runs into the ER just in time to see multiple stretchers being brought in. “Keith!” Altea says. “Excellent timing! I need you to help Hunk with some suturing and debridement in beds four through 8! What is that?” she asks, pointing at the the cooler. 

“I’m babysitting a penis until the police get here,” Keith says, already moving towards bed four, where Hunk is dealing with a particularly rowdy bicyclist who didn’t seem particularly interested in staying for x-rays.

Along the way, he sees Shiro, sitting with his unconscious patient, flipping through her chart, though he chooses not to stop in favor of setting the cooler down and grabbing a suture kit. 

“Sir, I highly recommend that you stay for X-rays,” Hunk says, a firm hand on the bicyclist’s shoulder. 

“What? No! I need to get back to the race!”

“Sir, please,” Hunk says again. “You might have internal bleeding. I don’t feel comfortable taking those bike spokes out until you’ve had a thorough check up.”

His patient rolls his eyes. Then, he grits his teeth and, before Hunk and Keith can do any more than exclaim in alarm, grasps the bike spokes, pulling all four of them out with a grunt. “See?” he says, with a ta-dah wave of his hands. “No swooning, no fainting. I’m fine.”

Hunk shakes his head, holding a kidney tray for him to place the metal spikes. “Keith, this guy’s all yours. I’m going to move on to the next one.”

“Ah! Hunk!” Coran catches Hunk before he can check on the brain dead guy in bed 5. “Just the doctor I wanted to see! I’m going to be stuck in the OR all day today doing repairs, and I need someone I can rely on to check on my pre- and post-op patients. Can you do that for me?” 

“Uh, yes sir!” Hunk says.

“Oh, and one of them, Mr. Mackie, is a good friend of mine. Make sure you get him everything he needs.”

“Got it,” Hunk says, leaving Keith behind to deal with the victims of the race.

Keith sutures Impatient Biker Dude closed and is smoothing the bandage over the area when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Hey, you’ve got a really nice touch, and you are a rockin’ babe. Why don’t you let me take you out sometime?”

“Excuse me?” Keith raises an eyebrow but otherwise tries not to let his annoyance show and turns to grab his patient’s chart. “I don’t date my patients. If you insist on leaving, you’ll be doing so against the doctor’s orders, so you’ll have to sign this form saying that you understand the consequences.”

“Darling, I will do what ever you want,” he purrs, taking the form. “I have to get back to the race.”

“Look,” Keith tries again. “One CT scan. You’ll be in and out in thirty minutes.” 

“No can do, babe,” his patient says again, handing the form back. “I’ve got a race to finish.” He swings his legs over the side of the hospital bed and gets up. “There’s a party at the end, you know,” he says. “Maybe I’ll see you there?” 

Keith rolls his eyes and turns away, only to feel a hand grab him by the waist and spin him around. He feels his patient’s lips meet his and pull him into a deep lip lock, and he freezes, indignation bubbling up behind his rib cage. “What the fuck?” he demands once his patient lets him go. 

“One for luck,” he says with a jaunty wave and a wink. “You’ll be seeing me again soon.”

“For your sake, I hope you don’t!”

He whirls around, and accidentally makes eye contact with Shirogane, whose eyes look filled with hurt. Shiro gets up from his station near his comatose patient and intercepts Keith before he can get to Mr. Brain Dead in bed 5. With dismay, he watches as Lance and Altea start the next round of tests on him.

“What was that?” Shiro demands. “Are you kissing patients now?”

“For the record, he kissed me, and I definitely did not want to kiss that guy.” Keith tries to move onto bed 6, but Shiro blocks his way. “Oh come on! Dr. Shirogane, are you jealous? This is highly unprofessional.”

“I am not jealous!” The faint flush across the bridge of his nose bringing out his scar says otherwise. “Go out with me,” he says instead. 

“No! You’re my boss! It’s against the rules.” Keith signs off on the chart. “We had sex once and we made out in an elevator once. That’s not going to happen again.” Keith tries again to move to bed 6, wanting the conversation to end.

Lance and Altea are debating over what they should do with Brain Dead. 

“I think we should harvest his organs,” Altea says. 

“What?” Lance exclaims. “He has a family!”

“Great!” Altea says cheerily. “Find them, and get their consent.”

“What? No! Come on, he’s got six hours.”

“Okay, fine,” Altea says decisively. “We’ll let the family make the decision.”

Lance narrows his eyes. “You just want a harvest surgery.” 

“Don’t you?” Altea asks. 

“I--” Lance throws his hands up, conflicted.

“Dr. Shirogane!” Altea motions for Shiro to come take a look. 

“Just a minute!” he says normally, before lowering his voice again. “‘It’s against the rules?’ You don’t take me as a by-the-books kind of guy,” he says to Keith.

“Look, you’re an attending. I’m your intern. Unlike you, I still have something to prove. Now, I really need to get to Ms. Ho before she bleeds out.” Keith puts a hand on Shiro’s upper arm and pushes him towards Bed 5. “Go deal with Mr. Brain Dead.”

Pidge finishes with her lab deliveries just in time to watch as a car screeches into the front of the hospital, and a man stumble out of the driver’s side covered in blood from the waist down. She catches a nurse by the arm. “Get a stretcher--he’s hurt!” she orders, and motions two other nurses to come help her get him inside and onto the waiting stretcher. They get him hooked up to a heart rate monitor and a breathing tube before cutting him out of his clothes. “Oh my God!” she yelps, looking at the bloody mess of his groin. “Somebody call security!”

She ends up getting to observe the surgery that Iverson performs on the bloody John Doe. 

“Medicine’s a funny business,” he comments as he cauterizes a blood vessel. “One minute you get to save the life of someone who fought off an attack, and the next, you’re trying to save the life of the attacker. Intern, why aren’t we trying to reattached this penis?” he barks at Pidge.

“Teeth tear, but reattachments need clean cuts. If she’d taken a knife to his penis, he might still be able to save it, but since she bit it off, plus the digestive enzymes in the mouth, there’s no way he’s ever going to get to pee like a normal person again,” she says, trying to keep the smugness out of her voice.

“Hmm, a moment of silence for this poor guy,” Iverson says, rolling his eyes unsympathetically, cauterizing the final blood vessel. Pidge can’t help but agree. Good riddance. 

As Vrepit Sal’s Dead Baby Bike Race ends, so does the endless stream of injured bikers, and the interns finally get a chance to trudge wearily back to the locker rooms to freshen up and change into a fresh set of scrubs. 

“I need a bed,” Pidge moans, lying on a bench in the locker rooms wearing just her sports bra. “Or a drink and a massage. Or a drunken massage on a bed.” She sits up with groan and starts wrestling her scrub top back over her head.

“I lost five patients today on the code team,” Lance moans at his reflection. 

“Lance, ninety-five percent of code patients can’t be revived. They’re seriously dead before you even get there.” 

“What?” Lance exclaims. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because,” Pidge says loftily. “I’m Pidge, and you’re Lance.”

Hunk trudges in, looking somewhat disgruntled. “Mr. Mackie won’t stop hitting on me, and I don’t know how to tell him I’m not interested. He’s Coran’s VIP, for crying out loud.” He sits down heavily next to Pidge. “At least we found a match for him.” 

“Oh yeah? Who?” Lance asks, splashing water onto his face.

“Oh, just some brain dead guy from earlier. When I told him, he cried and then tried to ask me out again.”

“Nice!” Lance gives Hunk a fist bump. “That was Allura and my’s first patient together!”

“Allura? Since when did she start letting you call her Allura?”

“Oh, she hasn’t. I just call her that in my head.”

“A patient kissed me today,” Keith announces, moodily playing with the handle of the cooler. “I wish I’d shown him the severed penis just to freak him out, but I didn’t think about that until it was too late. Plus, I don’t think it would have stopped him.”

Hunk makes a noise of sympathy. Lance, ever the incorrigible romantic, asks, “And what did Shiro think of that?” 

“He asked me out again.” 

Pidge groans. “Men,” she says. “They think they can just get away with anything.”

Lance, Hunk, and Keith all make indignant noises. 

“I got to watch Iverson cauterize the penis of a rapist today,” she continues as if they hadn’t said anything. “Simultaneously the best and the worst thing I’ve seen today, and I had to endure twenty-seven patients’ family members hug me with joy.” 

“Aw come on!” Lance interjects. “I should’ve gotten that job! I love hugs!”

“Does that mean I’m finally going to get to not babysit a penis anymore?” Keith asks, perking up at the thought. 

“Keith, it’s 2AM. They’re not sending someone over at 2AM.”

Keith drops his head into his hands and groans. “Fuck me,” he mutters.

“I mean, since you asked so nicely,” Lance starts. Pidge sticks her foot out and trips him.

“Thanks, Pidge.”

“Any time, bud.”

When Keith passes by the unconscious patient again in the morning, Shiro is still there and he looks like he hasn’t slept. He has, however, moved to the HUB, where he can simultaneously keep an eye on the patient and work on charting on the computer. Keith sets the penis cooler down on the counter. “Have you been here all night?”

“Yeah.” Shiro barely spares him a glance, and he rubs at the scar across the bridge of his nose. “You know, I grew in a family of all boys. All brothers. I can’t imagine what it’s like to not have anyone waiting for me when I wake up.”

“I can,” Keith says. Shiro looks up at him then, and stands to go make himself a cup of coffee, eyes soft.

“So,” he says, coming back with two paper cups of the hospital’s cheap free brew. “We’re kissing, but we’re not dating?”

Keith made a sound of annoyance. “I knew this would come up,” he says, accepting one of the cups.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like the kissing. More kissing, any day, I say,” Shiro says. 

Keith rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. “You sound like Coran,” he teases.

“I just want to know if this is going to happen again in the future. If it is, I’m gonna need to carry around breath mints. Maybe a,” Shiro lowers his voice, “condom in my wallet?”

“Shut up,” Keith whispers back, finishing off his coffee. Together, they stare at the patient in silence. All the monitors start beeping at once, and Keith and Shiro immediately move into action, calling for nurses and equipment.

“Prepare for an emergency craniotomy!” Shiro yells at a nearby nurse, who nods. Together, they mobilize the hospital bed into the OR, and Keith waits anxiously outside until Shiro’s done, looking more worn than ever. 

“We had to leave the top of her skull flap off,” he tells Keith. “Until the swelling in her brain goes down.”

Keith sighs. “She’s not going to make it is she?” he asks. 

“She’ll be fine,” Shiro replies, with a soft smile. “Come on. You have rounds. Don’t forget your penis.”

Keith sighs, shooting the cooler a look of distaste. “I just want the damn police to show up already,” he says in annoyance, heading back toward the HUB to catch up on some charting.

As soon as he reaches the HUB, however, a nurse motions him over. “The police have arrived to take custody of the evidence,” she tells him pointing over to where two uniformed men stand.

“Oh sweet! Thanks, Nyma,” he says, making his way over to the cops standing near the water cooler. “Hello sirs, I’m Dr. Kogane. I hear you’re here to collect my penis?”

The two cops look distinctly uncomfortable for a split second, before one of them notices the cooler in Keith’s hand. “Oh! Yeah, you just need to sign a couple of forms, and we’ll be out of your hair,” he says.

Keith gladly takes the paperwork and fills it out, handing both the forms and the cooler over to the cops. He runs into Pidge and Hunk halfway through rounds and they both give him high fives when they realize he’s no longer holding onto the penis cooler any more.

“Hey, so about those rooms,” Pidge says. “I’m in.”

“Yeah, me too,” Hunk adds. “I think I’m ready to give up my uncle’s couch.”

“Oh okay, cool,” Keith says. “I just need to get a few copies of my key made for you guys, and then you can move in whenever.” 

Pidge and Hunk cheer loudly and get shushed by Mrs. Cobb in bed 9.

[to-future-self]

This is very long and unplanned

Well, hello

So, I diverge from my parents. Like most adolescents, I do, yes, disagree with my parents. I know, I know, shocker.

I find it to be very scary, really. Suddenly, those who always had the answer don't have it anymore. And, once again, the fact that there is no certainty in life slaps me in the face again and again and again. Sometimes I worry I'll never get used to it, to life. I feel as if no one really does, but I don't think this is the uplifting mantra I want to carry throughout my existence. "No one will ever understand what we are supposed to do, because we aren't supposed to do anything!" Living isn't supposed to be meaningful, not by default. But I do know that the only one who can attribute meaning to life is the individual living it.

The fact that we are all individuals is the reason there will never be true peace. No, we're too different, all of us, in so many ways. This doesn't mean we can't coexist with those differences, but I don't believe there's any plausible scenario (and by that I mean, no thought reforming BS or total human annihilation) where everyone is quiet and happy. This is one beautiful and terrifying thing about humans, we're bound to noise, never to silence.

A community, whether we like it or not, is not homogeneous. It's a bunch of individuals that are scrunched together and not mixing, no matter how hard some try. Every single one of us is just weirdly unique, with our own objectives, likes, dislikes, good and not so good facts and beliefs. We're all just existing, and we all have the right to since we all have value. To exist is, supposedly, very valuable in itself.

I'll get to the value of a human being and MY OWN VALUE as a human being eventually, don't worry. I looove rambling in tiresome texts.

But let's get to the point, at least the initial one: Should all people be allowed to exist? Or, at least, should people be able to experience freedom or is it more secure to tame it in some capacity?

Now, what do I mean about that?

My parents are not anti-racists, they also are quite careless when it comes to cute 2020 surprise, Corona, and my dad is quite unfond of concepts such as feminism. Ok, they do sound like idiots, and that worries me because they're not. And it kills me that I can't love them less for it.

I came to the conclusion that one can't end an idea. Ideas are created and exist, immortal, but not undiscussable. Therefore, racism or sexism or any bad-ism will never end, as long as there's someone out there that truly believes it, or some kind of registration, either being through manuscripts and historical papers of some sort or just through the impact the past makes in the present and future (as a 16-year-old, my conclusions are not mind-blowing, they're mostly stupid and lame and not original).

And those bad-isms exist because of the conflict we, humans, will never get rid of. Bad-isms exist because some believe that others, different from them, shouldn't exist, or are not correct, or are inferior to them for some reason. Basically, you shouldn't exist, because you're not like me. And to disagree with those is plausible, right? Everybody should have the right to exist, even if harmony is unachievable. RIght?

That's when you get movement, revolution, opposition, which is great. Not easy nor pretty, even though some think so (yes, I'm looking at you, miss ˜I-Like-Romanticising-History". Did you enjoy Hamilton?) Those people who were massively mistreated through the course of human existence are screaming, and the world starts to notice their voice. And it's just so fucking amazing, even if things aren't fixed, and most likely never will. Things are slowly getting better. Hurray!

Hurray?

Now, I'm no expert in social sciences. Actually, I'm no expert in anything, I'm sixteen. But it is bizarre to see how people have a hard time looking past their own nose. Me included, obviously, but let's talk about that later. Ok, things got better, but they're not good. It's not very difficult to find some numbers stating how many black people die every day because of cop violence, or how many women are being abused every day in any social sphere they're inserted in, or how many trans people are beaten to death every day because of their identity. And that's me not remembering many, many other examples of how things are not alright. We're not walking on sunshine. However, to those who do not really experience any of it, or care to know about it, this is very foreign. Those are people who look at the past, think "Yikes. Good thing the world is not like that anymore!", and go live their lives carelessly. They don't see anything wrong with the now, now is good, and they don't understand how there are people who are still complaining! Hello-o, you got your rights, shut up already!

That, gentleladies and gentlemen and gentlenon-binary, is my father.

And that same father feels like he has no right to be wrong, or of disagreeing with people. He's terrified of the idea of limitation of freedom, he thinks it will lead to some kind of new dictatorship, and "they" are already working on it - "They" being the masterminds behind a to-be controlled world of some sort. Therefore, according to my dad, we can't get someone arrested for thinking the most absurd or saying the most absurd, because 1. They haven't done anything tangible yet, 2. Even if they're complete and utterly disgusting, they have the right of believing and saying whatever they want.

I feel as if this is the main ideological conflict we have nowadays (I'm not sure, I don't know way too much about the world to have an opinion, but we'll go back to that too). We have people who want to diminish, control, or even exterminate others, but, if they don't effectively do anything, should they be punished? As someone who isn't affected by many of the violence in the world today, I don't know.

Because I know there's nothing I can do to stop it from happening, bad-isms are always going to be there, but we need to keep trying to make them almost nonexistent. But then, you can't convince people, or explain to them, the damages of something through violence. This type of change can't happen through force, because it won't clarify anything to those who don't know or don't care. This doesn't mean passivity, but it means effective dialogue and loads of patience and, honestly, that's really hard too. I don't think there will be many people willing to persist in a (most likely) one-sided conversation with their abusers. And that's to say that all people can be convinced, which is not the case at all! People are stubborn, especially when they're talking about something they feel deeply about, such as their moral compass or their beliefs.

I'm afraid I advocate for different types of resistance or social change because I don't know what it feels like. Because I don't understand suffering. I understand anger, sadness, and guilt, but not suffering. Not truly. And then, I must not forget that I have been raised by my parents, who believe that yes, anyone can be proven wrong, and yes, you should be able to think freely, no matter how disgusting what you think about is. And I thought I agreed with that too until the day I realized I'm terrified of judgment, and again the day of the racist episode in my school happened.

Some guys had a Whatsapp group. I have no idea what they talked about usually, but I, and the entirety of my city (and the internet, obviously), got to see bits of a terrifying conversation. They were talking about what girls they would rape, but then they got to one in particular. Since she was black, she was worth less than a piece of gum, raping her was disgusting, she would smell awful and they would prefer to sell her on the internet. You know, like a slave. LOL.

People can be inhuman sometimes. Later, I would discuss this episode with my parents. It was sort of inevitable since it was all over the news, but it made me feel awful. Because "Hell, they're kids! Stupid kids, but they didn't do anything. Everything could be racism then, you know? Who is to judge what is and isn't? What will they do next, invade our privacy? Check if we are or aren't conforming to what 'they' believe is right? People say stupid shit all the time! What will 'they' do, arrest everyone?" Holy shit, the way they diminished the situation, the way they made it about something else! I know they don't agree with the kids, but what the fuck, no empathy at all? "The girl must hear that every day, she's fine" FUCK, WHAT ABOUT THAT IS FINE??

And then, well, I realized I'm not my parents. And then I realized I still love them. A lot. And that scares me. I hope I'm not a victim of unconditional love, it makes you accept the unacceptable. But I love my parents, and it will take more than them ignoring human suffering for me to stop. Like, my dad voted (and seems to be in love with) for a guy who thinks "people like me" should be beaten as a child to "take the gay out of them", and I still love him. It is fucking terrifying.

Then, I get to one of my greatest self-doubts. Am I critical of violent methods of action because, deep down, I believe there should be no action? People should just exist? What is the best next step to coexisting? Should voices be shut by the voiceless? Are voiceless shutting anyone up? Should people care or not? If we don't care, there's eternal apathy, but if we do, there's just a great war of interest. What is right? Who determines what is right? Can people be wrong if being wrong means suffering? Am I scared of knowing things because then I'll have to acknowledge I'm really, truly horrible and have been doing everything wrong? Am I that scared of disagreeing with what I believe is true? Of what people I respect and want to like me believe is true?

Unanswered. I think. I don't know.

Hi, I'm someone highly dependent on others' opinions about me. Not so long ago, I noticed that I lie. All the time. To the point I don't remember things I said, or can't keep up with them. 'Cause I need to be liked. I need so much to be liked I don't think I have opinions I haven't borrowed from other people. I can't act by myself, I feel the need of having someone tell me what to do, what is right, what is wrong, how to live. Shit, I ruined my friendship with the only people I talked to in 5 years because I projected all my insecurities and a sense of right and wrong on them and then blamed them for it. And now, while I'm trying to stop some of my bad habits, such as lying, I am so lost. So, so lost. And I don't know if that's because I lost my sense of identity once those who told me how to be are not there anymore or because this is me. Actually me. And I hate it. I feel as if anyone I knew before now was just meeting a facade.

I don't like what I used to like anymore. I don't read, don't draw, don't write, only sing when at the verge of tears, almost never listen to music, don't dance alone at 3 A.M., don't make pancakes, can't stand my birds, haven't changed clothes in almost a month, don't seem to find the most hilarious shit funny. I'm giving cooking a try, it's been very fun when I'm alone. That's another thing: being alone sucks, but it's how I want to be 99% of the time.

I always struggled with feeling good about myself. Because the bits that I knew were entirely me never seemed appealing to most people. Sometimes I can't stand myself so much that I make myself stop thinking, fearing that someone might think my thoughts are uninteresting. I never felt so uninteresting in my life. My biggest thrill recently has been planning how to organize the notes in my binder, and I'm not even good at it. If I could, I would shut up forever, because I never know what to say. I'm terrible at it, convos. Recently, I had this breakdown because I was searching "How to talk to people" on Youtube. I never felt so pathetic, so useless… So I cried for about 3 hours.

Actually, I always feel as if I am wrong. Nothing I do is ever right. It's very fun, this constant feeling that everybody hates you and is just keeping up with your bullshit since they're too polite to just say "You suck". It's so weird that I'm constantly telling myself that if people knew the truth about me, I would be completely alone. So I'm constantly telling myself how I should just cut everyone out of my life so they don't have to waste so much on me. And it's all in my head but if I don't talk to anyone, it'll come true, but if I do talk, people will just realize how much of a piece of shit and nothing I am.

My therapist once told me that I'm not obliged to be entertaining all the time and that I can be boring, but the truth is that I don't know anything. I am very much filled with just air and, if I don't make things up, people will be just stuck there with absolutely nothing. And then leave. And it will be all my fault, as it usually is.

I think the most pathetic recent thing I've done is to become possessive of this pillow I have. I use it to feel less lonely at night, sometimes I like to pretend it is my boyfriend and just hold it real tight (not really because then "I would be crushing him"). God, I've cried so much against this pillow and slept with it so much to the point I can't sleep unless I'm hugging something. And, sometimes, when my sister lies in the bed with me, I don't let her lie on top of it. Do you know when children have those clothes they get really attached to? I feel like that. Memory Boy, if you're reading this, I'm sorry if it's creepy. But it is the truth.

By the way, I'm so sorry if I talk too much and don't give you the chance to talk. Or if I'm never talking to you. This seems contradictory, but I miss you so fucking much and I really love you. I'm really sorry I'm not present, I'm just not myself enough or interesting and I really don't want you to see me like this.

My family is not really respecting the quarantine, and they convinced me to go out with them a few times. And I hate it. So much. I become paranoid that I'm part of the problem and I'll kill someone or that people will know that I'm out and scream with me and hate me and judge me and hate me. And my fucking dad thinks everything is fine and dandy and if he goes out without a mask he won't infect anyone and if he gets infected and dies it's fine because life goes on without him and this whole thing will be over in no time he can show you the fucking numbers because only 100 people are dying per day in this state, isn't this great? People are still dying, my dad doesn't seem to care because "you do you. If there are some idiots who don't care, let them die. Why does it concern you?" as if this isn't a situation where your actions affect the people around you and as if I shouldn't care if people die and as if I shouldn't care if my own fucking father dies because "they chose to do so to themselves". Fucking amazing. Thanks, Dad, I'm so less worried now.

And, when I refuse to go out, my family blames me for being no fun at all or "having a phobia of the outside.", since I have absolutely no reason not to go, everything is fine and dandy now, shopping malls are reopening and there's no way a second wave could happen, no sir. And, when I do go out, I try to wear things I would never wear and avoid phones so there's no proof I was outside. And, when I come back, I start searching for pictures of me between those pictures taken of people outside and feeling guilty, so guilty for going because if I didn't want to go, I could have not gone. And then I'll feel terrible and hate myself and cry and want to hurt myself, even though I won't. And just feel bad for it forever because it's my fault that I went outside and I could have just stayed, why didn't I stay, now everyone will hate me so much and I'll have contributed to the death statistics in my country and people will call me out for it and hate and never talk to me again and I'll have killed someone and made their family miserable and it will be all my fucking fault as usual because I could keep my ass home.

And oh my god, I'm so great. I'm so completely fine, I have nothing to worry about and I keep creating problems when I could just shut up. Sometimes I feel as if my feelings are wrong and far too much so I try to pretend they don't exist because, well, they shouldn't. I have no real reason to feel as sad or angry as I do all the time, especially when there are people with real problems out there and I'm just shoving the fucking great life I have against their faces and pretending as if it is the worst. When, actually, I make up all my problems and I should just stop whining and just be fucking happy already because I have no reason to feel sad and angry. I just wrote down some things that are on my mind but they're so fine and not a problem at all. I just really hate being too much.

Honestly, I usually re-read my letters to correct it and make it coherent, but I won't this time. I seriously blacked out while writing this and just am not willing to revisit right now. I've been writing this for three days now and, most of it I did in a row. Spent two days in the beginning and then an entire day just vomiting words nonstop. I'm sorry if it was long.

[sweetvengeancee]

My armour (Montgomery De la Cruz x Reader)

Warnings : Swearing, mention of rape, mention of domestic violence. Justin being so miserable should be a warning too (my little nugget). Spoilers, so if you haven’t seen episode 11 yet and don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read it! Also, my terrible writing skills. Word count: 3798.

A/N: To anyone who reads this, thank you and sorry. This is the first (and probably last) time I post one of my imagines. Bear with me guys, as English is not my native language. It’s really long and I’m sorry about that but I got carried away. I hope you enjoy it still! I SWEAR IT’S A MONTY FIC EVEN THOUGH IT DOESN’T LOOK LIKE IT AT FIRST!

Glancing down at the bottle of beer she was holding, Y/N sighed. She was starting to feel bored, her only occupation for the last five minutes being to watch the droplets slowly slide down the cold surface of the bottle. It’s been almost three hours since she had arrived at Bryce’s. At first, it was fun. She chatted with her friends, ate some junk food they had ordered and watched a movie with some of them. But now here she was, sitting on the armrest of the couch next to her boyfriend who was currently playing some sort of video game with another boy, while Jessica, Zach and Bryce were playing cards on the table nearby.

Swiftly bringing the beverage to her lips, she finished her drink and put the now empty green bottle on the coffee table in front of her before turning to look at her boyfriend – Montgomery. His eyes were focused on the TV and his brows furrowed as he quickly pressed random buttons on his controller, doing his best not to let his character die.

Y/N smiled to herself as she watched him, thinking back to the day he asked her out for the first time, almost six months ago. She had turned him down at first, because of the reputation he had regarding girls. But after a few weeks of him making efforts; leaving cute notes in her locker, walking or driving her home and even showing up at her doorstep with a bouquet of her favourite flowers, she caved in – finally accepting to have dinner at Rosie’s with the one and only – Montgomery De la Cruz. The date went surprisingly well and now here they were, five months later, still together and incredibly happy.

Y/N’s phone buzzed in her pocket, signalling that she had an incoming call. Standing up, she excused herself, even though nobody really paid attention to her since they were all concentrated on their games. She frowned at the caller ID – Justin, it read, her best friend. They’ve all been waiting for him to show up for quite a while now, why would he be calling her? She closed the glass door behind her as she stepped out of the house and walked a little further into the garden before answering.

“Hello?” She asked, glancing back to the pool house and the jocks who were playing table foot close-by.

“Y/N, thank God. You have to go to Bryce’s, Jess is there and you’re the one who lives the closest to him, and-” Justin rambled, worry filling his voice which made Y/N frown again.

“Jus,” She cut him off “I’m already there. We all are, actually. We’re waiting for you.” She explained and waited for him to say something but as seconds passed, he stayed silent. She could still hear him breathing thought, so she knew he hadn’t hung up on her. “Justin?”

“Fuck. Yeah okay, we’ll be there in ten.” He said and ended the call, leaving Y/N standing in the middle of Bryce’s garden confused as ever.

Putting her phone back in her pocket, she made her way back to her friends. Monty looked up at her as she sat next to him, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips. He left a quick kiss on the top of her hand and watched fondly as a small smile formed on her beautiful face. They might have been dating for only five months but he was deeply and madly in love with that girl. She has changed him so much, for the best of course. He couldn’t help but smile back at Y/N as she slid down the armrest right into his side, wrapping her arms around him.

“Monty, come on! We’re gonna get killed again!” Matt, with whom Monty has been playing the whole evening, whined, elbowing him in the ribs to get his attention. Montgomery groaned in annoyance, pressing his lips to Y/N’s temple before going back to the game as she went back to being bored.

Only a few minutes passed before the door to the pool house opened again. Y/N turned around, a big smile plastered to her face as she knew that her best friend has finally arrived. She was beyond happy to spend some time with him, as they haven’t seen each other much these last couple of days. But her smile was replaced by a frown as soon as she saw him. Justin was clearly angry, his eyes cold, his lips pressed in a thin line. Alex was right behind him, walking slowly, his head hanging low. Bryce turned around as well as he heard the boys enter, a big smile made its way to his face.

“Justin! Alex! About fucking time you guys. These cards are getting stale. Come on, sit down.” He said, inviting both boys to join in the game.

“Actually,” Justin started, glaring at Jess who kept on avoiding making eye contact with her boyfriend. “Jess and I had this thing planned.”

“Pff, no we don’t.” Jessica scoffed, shuffling the cards for another round.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the couch, watching the encounter between her best friend and his girlfriend. She hadn’t even noticed that Monty had paused the game until he grabbed her hand with his, squeezing it comfortingly. The girl’s eyes briefly met with her boyfriend’s before she turned her attention back to the other couple, who was full on fighting by now. Worry filled her eyes and her heart broke a little at how wretched her best friend looked. He had bags under his eyes, his cheeks were slightly red. Y/N has known Justin for almost her whole life. Ever since they were little, they were inseparable and always had each other’s backs. They’re both very protective of each other, and know everything about each other. Y/N is one of the rare people who has seen Justin cry, she’s one of the rare people who’s always willing to help him when things go down at his house, with his mother or her boyfriends. And he helped her multiple times as well. He helped her when she was lonely, when her parents would leave for weeks because of work, when they would argue; he helped her with bad break-ups, with everything. The Justin she knew was so much different than the Justin everybody saw. So seeing him so miserable always hurt her as well.

Somehow Justin ended up sitting facing Jess, his eyes not leaving her as she continued paying no mind to him. Zach awkwardly coughed before explaining the rules of the game to the boy.      

“Don’t worry, I got you stakes.” Bryce said to Justin once Zach finished talking. “Your girlfriend has been playing with my money all night anyway.” He smirked as he passed some cash to the basketball player.

“Alex, sit down!” Jessica finally piped in, ignoring her boyfriend’s glances once again.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why Jessica was acting so strangely tonight. Her eyes shifted from Alex to Jess, and then back to Justin. Her eyes caught Justin’s tired blue ones for a second and she gave him a weak smile, as to tell him that ‘everything is going to be okay’. But he brushed her off, his jaw clenching as he turned back to Jess who was now dragging Alex to the table. Y/N sighed, usually Justin would smile back, sometimes even nod at her as to say ‘thank you’.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Monty whispered into Y/N’s ear, his lips only an inch away from her ear as he did not want anyone else to hear him. He knew his girlfriend hated fights, and that she hated seeing her best friend like this. Y/N turned to her boyfriend smiling slightly, grateful that he was trying to get them out of that uncomfortable situation. Her lips parted as she was going to give him an answer, but she was quickly interrupted by Justin.

“Jess, what the fuck?” The boy raised his voice, glaring at Jessica who was now comfortably sitting on Bryce’s lap, a wicked smile plastered to her face. Eventually Jess faced her boyfriend, who was barely containing his anger by now.

“Your deal.” She spat coldly at him as she gave him some cards.  

“I don’t wanna play fucking cards right now.” Justin growled, pushing himself closer to her over the table.

“I said, your deal!” The brunette yelled and threw a few cards in his face, causing him to jump back a little in surprise.

“Shit.” Monty said, grabbing Y/N’s hand again and tugging at it as he stood up, ready to leave before the argument turned into something worse. But he barely had time to pull her to him before Justin stood up as well and started walking towards the exit, expecting his girlfriend to follow him. But as she didn’t, he took a step back and gripped her arm, yanking her away from Bryce. Y/N gasped as she watched her best friend violently pulling his girlfriend out of the pool house.

“Let’s go.” Monty said looking at his girl with soft eyes, ready to take her as far as possible from the argument. He intertwined his fingers with Y/N’s and let her out of the little building. But once outside, things got even worse, much to Y/N’s dismay.

“Don’t touch me like that. Don’t you ever touch me like that.” Jessica screamed as she broke free from Justin’s grip. She pushed him away, making him stumble back a few feet, her eyes full of rage.

“Buddy, calm down.” Bryce said calmly, taking a step towards the couple in an attempt to lighten the tension.

“Stay the fuck away from her!” Justin yelled, approaching his former best friend, anger radiating from his tall frame.

“What is your problem, Justin?” Jessica questioned, clearly irritated by now. She looked from Bryce to her boyfriend, her bottom lip trembling.

Surprise was written over everybody’s faces, except Y/N’s. She was more concerned than surprised to be honest, as she knew that the couple was going through a rough path. She didn’t know that it was that bad, though. Y/N averted her eyes from the couple and focused on the dirty floor instead.

“Why the fuck are you here with Bryce?” The fight went on as Justin cried out, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

Y/N didn’t want to witness the fight anymore, she had had enough. Deciding that it was better to leave, she pulled her boyfriend away from the small group. But she stopped in her tracks as Zach spoke up.

“Guys, this does not need to happen.” He said calmly, looking between the three people concerned – Jessica, Justin and Bryce.

“Maybe it does.” Alex said as he took a step forward, bringing all the attention to him. Y/N was over confused now. She did not understand a single thing, and frankly, she did not want to.

“Tell me why you care.” Jessica pleaded softly.

Blocking everything and everyone from her mind, Y/N let go of Monty’s hand, slowly making her way away from the group and out of this whole drama. She couldn’t take the screaming, the pain, anymore. It reminded her of home way too much. She took only a couple of steps before Justin’s voice caused her to freeze in the spot, and what he yelled out made her breath hitch and the blood in her veins run cold.

“Because he fucking raped you!” Silence filled the air after Justin’s outburst.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her ribcage, her breaths short as she turned around only to see Jess let out a loud sob and Justin charge at Bryce. She watched with tears in her eyes as Zach held Justin back and her boyfriend held Bryce away from the other boy.

He raped her. He fucking raped her. Y/N’s eyes landed on Bryce and for a mere few seconds his eyes caught hers. There was no emotion in them whatsoever. No guilt, no regret, nothing. His stare was cold and caused shivers to run down her spine. The girl looked away as she felt sick to the stomach. Only thinking about it made her ill. Y/N had always known that Bryce was a heartless bastard who had no respect for anyone, especially women, and treated everyone like trash, but rape? It was something she wasn’t expecting, even from him. The sound of Jessica’s palm colliding with Justin’s cheek brought her back to reality. She looked over at her best friend who was standing in the middle of the little circle that had formed, with a clear handprint on his left cheek and tears falling from his eyes as Jess pushed past him, storming away.

Y/N’s gaze followed her and without really thinking it through she ran after the girl, stumbling a little over her own feet as her mind was still somewhere else. Catching up with the brunette, she softly put her hand on her shoulder to stop her from walking further away. Jessica flinched away from the girl’s touch, her eyes sending draggers at her as she continued on her way to her car.

“Jess, hold on.” Y/N said, her throat dry and voice hoarse. Rolling her eyes, Jessica turned to face the other girl who was playing with her fingers, obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation.

“What?” She spat, a quick laugh leaving her lips as she noticed a tear sliding down Y/N’s cheek. “Why are you crying?” She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for an answer as she played with her car keys.

“You… You shouldn’t be driving right now, not in this state of mind.” Y/N croaked out mentioning to the keys with her hand, not really knowing what to say to the girl. Contrary to popular belief, Y/N did appreciate the young brunette, she considered her a friend now; and that’s why she followed her out there in the cold night trying to help her, to comfort her.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Y/N. Just leave me alone.” Turning back on her heel Jessica trotted over to her car. However, the other girl refused to let her go and ran up to her, swiftly taking the keys from the shaking girl before she could even open the vehicle, and then taking a step back in precaution. “What the fuck do you want?” Jessica yelled in her face, her pupils dilated because of the tears, but also because of the anger she felt at the moment. “Why don’t you go comfort your ‘oh so great best friend’?”  

“Jess, let me at least drive you home.” Y/N whispered calmly, dodging her question once again. She took a step forward, expecting the girl to give up and just let her drive her home safely. What she wasn’t expecting, though, was the harsh slap that she received once she was close enough. The sound of the keys hitting the asphalt filled the air as Y/N brought her hand up to her red and already swollen cheek in surprise.

“Leave me alone.” Jessica repeated slowly, her eyes filled with tears and pain. Y/N watched with wide, glassy eyes and her mouth agape as Jess picked the keys up. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, she just stood frozen and watched as her friend got into the car and drove away into the night.  

When Monty had suggested to spend the evening with some of their friends at the pool house earlier that day, Y/N was surely not expecting things to end up like this. It was supposed to be a fun night; a group of friends hanging out together after a stressful week. A night filled with laugher, music and alcohol. But things never go as planned, do they?  

Minutes passed but Y/N hasn’t moved yet. She felt quite stupid to feel so hurt by her friend’s actions, as they were totally justified – she has been raped, for God’s sake. A slap seems so meaningless compared to what Jessica is going through but it still pained her, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling this way. It brought back too many memories. It reminded her of all the times her mother would push her around when she’d do something bad. It reminded her of all the times her father would yell at her until she cried after she brought home a bad grade from school. But most importantly, it reminded her of all the slaps, punches, pinches she would receive from both of them once she grew older; and always for such stupid reasons like being caught kissing a boy, or getting home a bit too late.

Y/N was full on sobbing now, her body shaking as she sat down on the pavement in front of Bryce’s house. Her hand stroked her hot cheek softly, careful not to hurt it even more.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice brought the girl back to reality. Her eyelids fluttered, letting some tears fall all the way down her cheeks and to the ground. Monty approached the girl slowly, joining her on the ground.

“Mon…” She breathed out, her big Y/E/C eyes meeting his. The boy’s lips curved into a small smile at the nickname only she was allowed to use. He used to hate when others called him that, ‘Mon’, but it sounded so nice coming out of her lips. He brought his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, his chin resting at the top of her head. He could feel her whole body trembling and it made his heart ache. He wished he could just take the pain away.

“What happened, love?” He asked quietly, his hand running up and down her arm in a comforting manner. Y/N looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering. And that’s when in the dim light from the street lamp he noticed the red print on her left cheek. His heart thumped harder in his chest, his grip on her tightening as he placed a sweet kiss on her forehead to calm himself down.

Montgomery wasn’t angry at Jessica. As maddening as it was, he understood why she had done it. She wanted to be left alone to cope with things, but Y/N being her lovely self wanted to help her. Jessica couldn’t know that this action would cause Y/N to breakdown. She wasn’t aware of what the girl went through when she was younger, and what she’s still going through at home. But Monty was very well aware of his girlfriend’s situation. Hell, he almost beat her father up once when he noticed a few bruises on her ribs during one of their make-out sessions. He couldn’t comprehend how Y/N’s parents could do this to their own daughter, but he was glad that she had opened up to him about it. He promised himself that he’d always protect her from them, and from anyone else who would try to harm her in any way.

Leaving one more kiss at the top of his girlfriend’s head, Montgomery stood up, reaching out for her with his hand which she took after a few seconds of hesitation. It was nothing new to him, she’s always suspicious of everything when she’s in physical or psychological pain. What mattered was that in the end she’d always fully open up to him and let him help her.

“Let’s get you out of here, babe.” He said and waited until she nodded her head to lead her to his jeep.

The drive to her house was a very short one as Y/N lived only a few blocks away from Bryce. Usually the couple would hang out and spend nights at Monty’s house, as his parents accepted their relationship more than Y/N’s, but this time her parents were away for a week and an empty house was always better.

Getting out of the car Monty quickly ran to the passenger’s door to help his girlfriend out. He led her to the front door, opening it with the spare key he had.

Minutes later Y/N was comfortably sitting on her bed, her legs hidden under the soft duvet while her boyfriend rummaged through her tidy room, getting DVDs out. A light smile formed on her face as she watched him. She was so thankful to have him. He was her everything and he didn’t even know it. He was her reason to get out of bed in the morning, her reason to go to school, her reason to keep going. He just meant so much to her.

“I’ll go get the snacks.” Monty said moving towards the bed and handing Y/N the DVDs he had found. “You pick the movie.” He smiled affectionately at her.

“Forget the snacks, just come here.” Y/N pleaded, making grabby hands at him and giving him a big smile. Her eyes weren’t dull anymore, they were shining again. The smile wasn’t a forced one, it was genuine. She pouted at him as he still hasn’t moved and just observed her, making him roll his eyes at her jokingly.

“Move then.” Monty pushed the covers off Y/N’s legs only to pull them over them again once he laid down next to her. Forgetting about the DVDs, Y/N laid back next to her boyfriend, clinging to his side. He chuckled as the girl laid her head on his chest, making her punch him playfully in the stomach to make him stop moving. Her fingers danced over his clothed chest as she replayed the events of the day in her head again. A smile crept onto her face once more as she thought about how sweet and caring her boyfriend has been; not only today, but ever since they started dating. Monty’s hand moved up to her face, cupping her cheek softly. He tilted her head back to make her look at him. His heart filled with joy as he noticed her smile. God, how he loved her smile.

“You okay?” He whispered, pushing a few lose strands of hair behind her ear. Y/N leaned up, pressing her lips to his softly in a sweet kiss.

“I’m okay now.” She mumbled into the kiss, pulling away right after. Monty’s arm snaked around her waist, bringing the girl even closer to him as her hand moved to the back of his head, her fingers playing with his hair. He moved down a bit, so their faces were on the same level, his forehead pressed to hers. They stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like hours, but was actually only a few seconds as Monty’s thumb started stroking Y/N’s cheek lovingly.

“Good.” He murmured before pressing his lips to hers, but this time in a much more heated kiss filled with love and passion.

Well, that was crap.

Tagging a few people just for this imagine; @xbarrjallenx and @ans-atkins because they’re two of my favourite 13rw imagines blogs and I’d love to have their opinion on it (+ xbarrjallenx helped me out with the title so a big thank you to you hun). @arch1eandrews because I promised that I would tag you, as you’re the one who pushed me to finally post something, ily. @5saucefanfic because I love you so much and you’ve been pushing me to post something too, and you helped me out with this, so thank you.

I’ll probably regret that and might delete it later.