youremy-kryptonite-blog

[science2048-abandoned]

4h. 1t’s 0k1. 1f y0u n33d t0 t4lk 4b0ut 1t t0 4ny0n3, 1’m h3r3. :3

-demonicAquatic

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

french press

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

wc: 1.2k reader: femme/gender neutral (gender warnings: reader is wearing lingerie, reader "pushes t*ts together" -- you've been warned) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some funny stuff summary: jiwoong has a biiit of a jealousy problem. he's so jealous rn that he won't even touch you :( with his permission, you take matters into your own hands (and onto his thigh). *ੈ✩‧₊˚ oh helloooo. long time no see. decided to write something for the hell of it. maybe i'll write some more soon...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

~

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, thigh-riding, penetrative sex (reader receiving), descriptions of cum (reader's and jw's), unprotected sex, cumming inside, jealousy/toxicity, swearing, pet names (baby, angel)

also the title is VERY clever. french press: french masseusse pierre and... mating press. i'll leave now.

~

“baby,” you whine, pushing your arms together a bit to accentuate your tits. “don’t you wanna touch? you love touching my tits.”

the sheer, black lingerie set you were saving for a special occasion is hugging every curve of your body perfectly as you straddle your boyfriend. a garter belt squeezing around your right thigh, you know you’re irresistible to anyone with a pulse.

but apparently your boyfriend has passed away since he sat down on the couch with a huff twenty minutes ago. he’s still warm though and that’s permission enough for you to let him have it.

“oh my god,” you groan; smacking your hand on the leather armrest like a frustrated child. “woongie! want you to touch me so bad.”

“well, you should’ve thought of that before you let another man put his hands all over you,” jiwoong answers-- head turning to the side in the ultimate display of pettiness. 

you sigh exasperatedly. “it was a massage, woongie. a professional one that you paid for!”

“so?” he asks with a pout. “are you suggesting i’m a cuckold by my own doing?”

“you are the only one suggesting that actually,” you reply, running your hands down his clothed chest. “the only thing i’m suggesting is that you fuck me. and i’m strongly suggesting it.”

“oh yeah?” jiwoong responds, one eyebrow raised in interest. “are you sure those words aren’t actually meant for pierre: the unnecessarily handsome french masseuse?”

“you literally gave me a gift certificate for my birthday!” you exclaim, hitting his chest lightly in frustration. “baby, i tried to request an ugly massage therapist. the woman at the desk looked at me like i was being rude. and i was! for you.”

jiwoong’s eyes go straight to your barely-covered core and you think for a second he’s finally about to give in. “you asked for an ugly masseuse and she gave you a former louis vuitton runway model? i should’ve just given you tickets to magic mike live!”

“kim jiwoong-ah, if you don’t fck me right now, i swear to god,” you threaten emptily, sinking down on one of his grey sweatpant-adorned thighs. “i’m just gonna use you however i want.”

jiwoong folds his arms across his chest in a final act of defiance, attention returning to the tv screen. “knock yourself out.”

it takes everything in you not to whine like a little spoiled brat, but you manage to suppress it. instead, you grind a little harder down onto jiwoong’s thigh. his legs are lazily spread apart in the most enticing way. you could reach right down his pants and grab him in your hands (a tried and true method that jiwoong loves), but you have something to prove too.

so you repeat the grinding motion, your heat connecting again with the toned flesh of your boyfriend’s perfect thighs. at first it’s just for show-- you need his attention and you’ll do anything you have to to get it back.

but after a few moments, a soft moan escapes your throat. jiwoong’s breath audibly hitches; his body stiffening a bit at the sound of your pleasure. despite this, his eyes stay fixed on the screen.

as a familiar knot grows just below your stomach, you almost start to forget about your goal. maybe it’s desperation speaking, but riding your boyfriend’s thigh is actually a lot more stimulating than you thought it’d be. 

“fuck,” you whine, increasing your pace involuntarily. your hands are gripping the back of the couch, eyes closing as you rapidly approach your high.

suddenly, jiwoong’s thigh grows harder-- a sturdier surface for you to grind on. he’s flexing his muscles for you, helping you reach your climax like the perfect boyfriend he is.

“gonna cum all over my thigh, baby?” jiwoong asks, voice already noticeably fucked out. it’s not a mystery who won this game. “gonna make a mess all over my pants like a fucking angel?”

“i--... oh my god, i--...” you cry, strong hands finding your hips and guiding them down for you onto his thigh. you place your hand gently at the base of jiwoong’s neck, pulling at the collar of his shirt and toying with his collarbone. “i--... ‘m cumming...”

pleasure taking over, you reach your high as jiwoong continues to guide your hips for you. “woongie, love you. love you so much.”

your eyes flutter open to see jiwoong’s cheeks flushed, his eyes locked on your core. you look down to find that you have made a pretty little mess, honey dripping from you and soaking his grey sweatpants. he lifts you ever so slightly up and back down, watching as your juices seep through your sheer panties and onto him.

jiwoong meets your gaze for less than a second before you’re wrestled off the couch and onto your back on the carpeted floor below. carpet aside, it’s not a painless fall and as your boyfriend is hungrily ripping his pants off and burying his cock inside you, you decide it’s a good time to start playing again.

“oh my god, woongie,” you complain, knowing that your back’s gonna hurt even worse in the morning. “are you trying to make me need another massage?”

“no. more. massages,” jiwoong growls, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. “unless i’m the one giving them.”

“fuck,” you whine, pulling him even deeper inside you as you wrap your legs around him. trapping him. holding him hostage exactly where his possessive ass wants to be. “surely you don’t think you’re as skilled as a professional masseuse?”

“i’ll get certified,” he manages to grunt, grabbing hold of your thighs and pushing them up to your chest in a mating press. “or would you prefer pierre’s cock inside you instead?”

“that’s not fair,” you reply, absolutely relishing in your reinstated role of bratty sub. “how can i choose if i’ve never seen both options?”

“you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” jiwoong asks, kneading your thighs mercilessly-- striking his palm across the side with a gorgeous smack. “you’re gonna kill me so you can fuck pierre and then kill him too.”

“i’ll let you live a little longer if you cum inside me,” you promise, running your hand through his hair as he stares at you helplessly. “please, woongie. need you to fill me up.”

you can see it in his eyes: he’ll give you anything you want. he’d even let you fuck pierre if you really wanted to. but you don’t. not even a little bit. you just want jiwoong.

“fuck, i love you so much, baby,” he pants as his thrusts grow shallower and more sporadic. “gonna fill up this perfect... little...”

his hips finally spasm; a sweet moan swallowed down as you feel him spill into you. you sigh contentedly at the warmth inside of you, your boyfriend laying his head on your chest-- letting go of your legs from where he’d been pinning them and collapsing on top of you in exhaustion.

you wrap your thighs around jiwoong’s waist, making sure he can’t escape (he doesn’t want to).

jiwoong’s jealousy issues weren’t really harmful. he knew you’d never actually leave him for another man; what he always seemed to forget is that you’d never even dream of it. and besides, whatever misunderstanding arose always ended in fiery, passionate sex like this. 

so could anyone really blame you for making up sexy french massage therapists just to make your boyfriend jealous from time to time? not to worry... you’ll give jiwoong a couple months to recover from pierre before you drop your next fabrication on him: dante, the sensual italian chef.

[violetmuses]

Crest - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Title: Crest - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Paring: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: You meet Armando Aretas for the very first time.

Tag List: @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda @amethyst-loves-bucky @planetblaque @sweettea-and-honeybutter @lovedlover @xjjawsomex @readingisahobby @kindofaintrovert @nelo0wesker 🏷

======

2024

While previous criminal Armando Aretas escaped law enforcement, hiding for survival kept moving along until life circled right back to Miami, Florida.

Miracles still pulled through when Armando even booked this flight without facing drama. One wrong move could lock grounding handcuffs.

When Aretas finally boarded this red-eye plane and drifted by shadows, someone took the window seat.

Securing luggage overhead, you sat down without realizing who joined this row as well.

Exhaustion should've helped during this late hour, but Armando quietly noticed your presence.

As your body shaped this hopefully comfortable outfit, you've styled your hair and held this “new” manicure, clearly planning something while traveling to the vibrant lanes of South Beach.

You look so pretty. Armando thinks. Butterflies almost swarmed within like the movies.

Ignoring various devices as others welcomed that flight, you take out this book and start reading from one of the bookmarked pages.

Even your focus caught his intrigue, but Armando moved on, trying to sleep until further notice.

_____

Several hours later, you gently nudged that random hoodie stranger when other passengers gave enough room for everyone else to leave.

“Sorry, but we need to go.” You whispered to avoid startling this guy.

“Oh, shit, my bad.” Slightly accented English rasped near your direction when Armando pulled away from slumber.

Stepping near the aisle for your exit, Aretas tried waking up even more to face the upcoming terminal hustle. Drifting again offered freedom.

“Thanks.” With luggage prepped, you stood in front of Armando and bid farewell near the crew, heading down this tunnel while greeting Miami.

“You're welcome.” Armando nodded without smiling to avoid those rattled butterflies.

_____

Finally standing in that large-scale airport terminal, you quickly noticed that your window seat partner looked confused.

He's wearing sunglasses and took off that hoodie, wearing this black tank top despite the heat that raged outdoors.

“Damn.” Armando gritted his teeth upon realization.

“What's wrong?” You questioned.

“My ride’s not here yet.” Aretas nearly frowned at this point. “I'm waiting for somebody.”

“Don't worry. Traffic’s crazy often.” You tried helping again “What car are you looking for?”

“911 Turbo.” Aretas stepped closer and pointed toward his bargained cell phone.

“The Porsche?” You smiled.

“Yeah.” Armando nearly chuckles as your face keeps lighting up.

“Have fun.” You turned in the opposite direction this time as one vehicle service car pulled up and brought your path elsewhere.

And just like that, you disappeared to leave Aretas by himself.

_____

“Sorry I'm late, man.” Lowrey drove the classic Porsche and rolled toward one curb as Armando joined this passenger seat. “Traffic was crazy.”

“It's okay” Aretas wouldn't argue, especially in public.

“How was your flight?” Lowrey asked.

“Good. I'm still tired, though.” Aretas offered his truth.

“We'll be at the house soon. Let's get out of here first.” Mike steered away, prepared for this new role.

****

Mike's wife Christine, an experienced physical therapist, stood on this porch when the car arrived.

“Hello.” Welcoming both men into the house, Christine smiled once more.

“He's home, babe.” Mike gestured near Christine and Armando.

______

“I'm glad.” Christine nearly giggled, but waves as Armando planned to rest.

After taking this much-needed shower, very few belongings rounded the pleasant space when Aretas organized essentials for himself.

“You kept the shirt.” Mike chuckled back in the kitchen.

“Oh…” Aretas glanced down. Lowrey realized that Armando wore that Bud Light t-shirt from their previous McGrath mission.

“What happened? I missed a lot.” Christine sat down at this table.

“We found some clothes while running from authorities.” Mike rolled both eyes while making his plate.

“These random people camped with shotguns and we almost died.” Armando pulled details for once. “Burnett wouldn't stop talking.”

“Oh, no!” Christine almost gasped this time around.

“Don't stress out.” Mike still knew better. “Let's talk about something else.”

“Good point.” Christine understood more often than not. ��Did anything special happen on your flight, Armando?”

“Not really. I slept most of the time.” Aretas continued to speak.

“Fair enough.” Christine nodded as peace settled in the home.

*****

By the early afternoon, Armando started checking this guest bedroom window.

“What's going on?” Both Mike and Christine joined Aretas.

“Somebody's moving in.” Armando described one moment as this U-HAUL truck parked across the street.

“You think something’s wrong?” Mike glanced near Armando just in case.

“No. Just curious.” Aretas stepped back from the window and returned downstairs to think.

Regardless, Mike and Christine would still follow Aretas.

_______

With each passing second, curiosity nagged more and more. “I'll be right back.” Aretas stood from this patio chair after sitting outdoors with Mike.

“Ay, where you going?” Mike arched his brow, definitely puzzled.

Ignoring Mike once again, Aretas guided the walk right back around and located that new driveway. Even music echoed inside this house.

Still taking this chance, Armando finally rang this doorbell.

Before long, the music would stop playing moments later.

When the door opened, Aretas nearly froze this time.

“Hi.” You smiled at him.

“Hey.” Revealing his slightly accented English once more, Aretas knew that butterflies swarmed as this return.

“What's your name?” You offered this question and didn't fear possibilities.

“Armando.” Aretas couldn't hide the truth anymore because Mike waited somewhere right now.

“I knew it. Recognized you on the plane, but I didn't want to frighten everybody.” You cleared your throat and grounded reality.

For quite some time, headlines and rumors scattered news about this dangerous man.

“I've cleared my name and Mike Lowrey set me up with the police department. You don't have to be scared anymore.” Armando explained his new opportunity.

“How can I trust you?” You crossed both arms while standing on the porch.

“I won't hurt you, okay? We live right across the street.” Aretas pointed backward. “I'm staying with Lowrey and his wife now.”

“Hold on. Is Detective Lowrey really your father? I keep hearing things.” For a moment, you glanced around just in case.

“Yeah.” Armando revealed.

After facing questions or encountering different secrets over time, Detective Mike Lowrey would take responsibility as Armando's biological father.

“Fine.” You dropped the subject.

“I saw that U-HAUL truck earlier.” Aretas refused more personal questions. “Do you still need help?”

“No thank you.” You welcomed the gesture, but declined. “I just took a break while unpacking and ordered some food.”

“Cool, but why travel by plane if you moved here?” Armando squinted.

“I flew with my luggage to avoid some long road trip.” You nearly rolled both eyes. Driving would've prolonged so much this time around.

Just before Armando could ask you more questions, another voice called out.

“Yo, what are you doing?” Detective Mike Lowrey corrected Aretas.

“We're talking.” Armando leveled words as he noticed his estranged father.

“I'm so sorry. Excuse us.” Lowrey took charge despite apologizing to you.

“Of course.” You nodded.

Given no other option, you watch Armando and Mike leave your house.

_____

“Listen to me.” Back home, Mike whispered in this hall. “Law enforcement cleared your name, but I'll be damned if we start trouble again because you bother people.”

“She was on my flight last night.” Mentioning you at last, Armando defended himself.

“Let me get this straight: one girl you saw on the plane is our new neighbor?” Mike still questioned your place across the street.

“Yes.” Aretas stopped debating your spot and knew that Christine might hear this argument.

Seconds later, Mike's phone started ringing out of nowhere.

“Shit!” Lowrey cringed toward the caller ID for once.

“What's up?” All jokes aside, Armando seemed puzzled and concerned.

“I forgot that Marcus would visit for dinner tonight.” Mike revealed the truth.

Fuck! Aretas immediately casted both eyes toward the ceiling and prepared himself.

_____

“Marcus, don't start crying, all right?” Mike welcomed his best friend Marcus Burnett into the house.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marcus scrunched his face behind glasses. “I'm just having dinner with you and Christine. What's going on?”

“Turn the corner.” Mike walked toward that living room with Marcus.

“Who's sitting on your couch, man?” Frustrated, Marcus couldn't understand the point yet.

Shutting down this game console, Armando stood from the couch.

“Ah, shit! Why didn't you tell me, Mike?” Burnett finally realized everything. “Nephew’s back!”

“Don't hug Armando, Marcus.” Mike gently warned his brother again.

“All right. Let's eat. ” Settled, Marcus calmed down his recovered heart and joined dinner.

******

The next day, you wake up hearing that doorbell first. Sunlight just illuminated this morning.

Finally pulling yourself together, you headed downstairs and checked the new RING Camera.

Two figures waited on the porch.

“Hi.” You welcomed Armando Aretas and Christine Lowrey into your home.

“Sorry for being so early.” Christine arrived with meals. “We had leftovers for dinner and I even plated breakfast for you.”

“Thank you so much.” You accepted generosity and led Christine towards the kitchen.

Armando trailed in silence as you and Christine organized items.

“Mike's at the police station, but we wanted to apologize for what happened last night.” Christine knew the drama on your porch.

“I appreciate it.” You smiled and felt thankful once more.

“Of course. I'll give you two privacy.” Christine gestured near you and Armando, stepping back outside.

_______

“Sorry. Marcus showed up last night.” Armando nearly scoffed.

“Lowrey's partner?” You questioned placements just to be sure.

“He's dramatic.” Aretas offered the truth regardless.

“That's funny.” You laughed. “Did you take the day off or something?”

“Yeah.” Armando nodded. “It'd be dumb to ignore what happened last night.”

“Is everything okay?” You somehow checked on this stranger.

“We're good. Don't worry.” Armando only grinned for a second and planned to leave.

“All right. Thanks for the food.” Your voice expressed gratitude for so many reasons.

“You're welcome.” Regrettably, Armando walked away, but still respects limitations.

****

Ever since Christine stopped by your house with meals, Armando visited you on a regular basis.

“Finally left the house?” You noticed Aretas leaving this coffee shop.

“Very funny. What are you doing?” Wearing sunglasses on top of his short hair, Aretas flirted this time.

“Nothing.” You've held another book to read this morning.

“See you later.” Glancing over his shoulder, Armando winked toward you and left.

No longer playing around, you'll exchange phone numbers tonight.

[this-aint-massachusetts]

more FNaF hcs because the tism™️ is telling me to info dump

sorry if some of these are the same as the last one I forget which ones I put before 🙁

-When Mike was chasing after the car he tripped scraped his knee broke his ankle and busted his kneecap and just gave up on life right then and there

-Mike smokes weed but he could take the tiniest tinniest hit of a bong and he’d cough up a lung so he just mainly sticks to blunts or bowls

-Abby has called 911 multiple times because she wanted to contact Vanessa but it obviously didn’t work. 

-Vanessa used to dye her hair fun colors but she can’t anymore cuz of her job but she wears colorful extensions 

-Abby’s therapist has tried so hard to hint at Mike that he should get an autism diagnosis because his sister has one and he still hasn’t picked up on it despite showing clear traits of autism 

-When golden Freddy and Abby left the cab he just handed Cory a piece of paper with ‘one million dollars’ scribbled on it in green crayon. Cory was to scared to say no he just was like “yeah ok sure” and then cried 

-Mike and Abby did not go to Aunt Janes funeral they instead went to Dave and Busters and played arcade games while their entire extended family blew up Mikes Nokia phone

-Aunt Jane was a “wine mom” and was in heavy denial of being an alcoholic 

-Abby really likes bugs and puts them in her pockets but Mike is terrified of bugs so he freaks out whenever he sees them crawling on her or in her laundry 

-Vanessa apologizes to people while arresting them

-The animatronics consider the cupcake to be their puppy and get confused when people think he’s a menace

-One time Doug ran into Mike and Abby at Walmart once and he just threw his thick ass lawyer wallet at then then ran away to have a panic attack. Mike and Abby bought a blow up pool that day

-Doug had to go to therapy due to Aunt Jane being an absolute fucking Karen

-Doug’s now a regular at Sparkys and is besties with Ness, he considers Ness “The son he never had”

-Bonnie kid (Jeremy) really liked Spider-Man

-Vanessa has a pitbull named Princess that she took home from an animal control call. (The dog is a fucking danger to society)

-Abby picked up on some 80s slang from the animatronics and now just says radical to everything 

-Max and her friends would be doing TikTok trends before TikTok was even a thing (stealing soap dispensers from public bathrooms, sticking pennies in electrical sockets ect)

-Vanessa is a Disney adult/hj

-There’s a rubix cube in the pizzeria that the animatronics have been trying to solve since they’ve been dead basically 

-Every night after Abby goes to bed Mike goes to the kitchen and eats shredded cheese by the handful. Abby caught him once and he cried.

-Mike is the type of person to ask those weird questions while watching movies, like: “If their underwater how are they drinking soda?”

-Mike would stuff all his emotions and feelings down till he bursts and it usually results in him locking himself in his room while having a panic attack

-Max was also a weed dealer so Mikes out of a babysitter and a plug. 

-Vanessa hates soda, loves tea tho

-Mike really likes the Care Bears and uses Abby as an excuse for liking it

-Ness uses those really cheesy pet names for Mike, some of them southern originated because I believe in southern Ness solidarity. Ex: Sweetie pie, Sugar, Doe

-Abby is really good at hide and seek but caused Mike a few panic attacks because of how well she hides

-After Freddy’s neither Mike or Abby could sleep without a nightlight so she lent Mike hers on the agreement she could sleep in his room with him. (He of course accepted)

-Mike: Where’s my Diet Coke?

Vanessa: Oh I threw it away, sodas not good for you.

Mike: Oh ok- WHAT.

-Abby still asks Mike to tie her shoes for her even though he already taught her how to tie them herself

-Mike has a very particular morning routine that he has to follow every morning and feels icky if it gets interrupted for any reason 

-Mike is more noise sensitive and Abby is more texture sensitive but Mike still hates certain textures (ex: olives)

-Mike has considered owning chickens and even went with Abby to look at little chicks but she soon started sneezing and feeling sick and that's when they found out she's allergic so that quickly got shut down

-Abby gives her stuffed animals lore and hierarchies and Ness is always asking her about it when her and Mike go into the diner

-Vanessa Has a very minimalist style not because she likes it but because she's scared of getting attached to anything she calls home which at times worries her when she's with Mike, Abby and Ness. This results in her sitting in bed, chewing on her lip thinking of constant escape plans and emergency exits in case her father ever returns, if something bad happens, etc.

-Mike likes seeing Abby draw him and pretends not to notice when she stares and tries to get the color of his shirt just right (he buys clothing in colors she has to make it easier)

-Abby is the type to point out cows and horses and will repeatedly kick Mike's seat even while he's driving until he acknowledges them

-Abby doesn’t understand why her and Mike can’t just print more money to make them rich and Mike has had to explain to to her 12837383838 times

-Ness is a theater kid (yeah if you didn’t see this coming I think you need glasses)

-Ness and Mike play lps with Abby, Abby explains all of her lps lore extensively and Ness listens to every bit of it while Mike is just like: “I love you both but wtf”

-Mike sometimes age regresses sometimes when put under pressure and Ness is literally the best caretaker ever (this one’s based on a Dreamtheory fic I read once and I fell in love with the idea)

-Ness and Mike call each other every night before going to sleep and once Mike forgot so he woke up the next morning to 300+ voicemails from Ness asking if he’s ok

okay that’s all i have for now I’ll post more later when i feel like it oki byeee 😘✌️

[inevitably-johnlocked]

It's weird that John doesn't have any friends apart from Sherlock. The only other friend he has is Lestrade, who's a mutual, and who's also known Sherlock longer than he's known John.

John is usually considered more approachable, I think. I mean, he's polite enough to get dates to go out on regularly.

But he's quite closed off and quite rude to Mike Stamford in ASIP. Mike seems to be so polite, and yet he doesn't correct John when he says, "Who would want to be my flatmate?", not even out of an attempt to be nice in that moment.

Odd, isn't it?

Hey Lovely!!

We have to remember that John's "approachability" only happened AFTER he met and lived with Sherlock. Perhaps he was in a past life before the army as well, but war changes people, especially when one is traumatized with a sudden life-shift as John was.

God knows that the government treats war vets like shit, so already John is doomed to struggle without help. He hated seeing his (probably army-provided, mandatory) therapist, struggled with just existing and, from context clues in ASiP, we know he probably never ate either. Before ASIP, I assume he just recently re-entered civilian life after a LONG healing period (if he almost died – and probably did - we can make the assumption that he was probably hospitalized for a long time too, probably a few months) and fresh off of a forced honourable discharge. He tried his best to just carry on as Brits do, but it's not HELPING. He's struggling emotionally and physically, poor, depressed, and just trying to survive after the government basically threw him to the side.

John felt aimless, unloved, and lonely, and absolutely suicidal by the time we meet him. He was rude because he didn't WANT to try anymore, but he still gave Mike the opportunity to catch up, which shows us that deep down John DID want to TRY.

And Mike didn't correct John simply because he is a doctor. And we can presume an ARMY doctor if he's at Barts, so he KNOWS John isn't going to do well after war. John is NOT Mike's first time seeing a traumatized war vet. That's why Mike is gentle and knows John is struggling. And Mike knew JUST the perfect chaotic person to keep John's mind off of the tedium of his life-after-war.

Mike is a genius in my book.

Sherlock saved John just as much as John saved Sherlock.

Two loner misfits with strained relationships with their living relatives and thought weird by society? Totally meant to be!

[lisbeth-kk]

Continuing the May prompts with a letter story. Thanks for the tag @calaisreno

Healing letters

After grieving Sherlock for months, John decides to write down his feelings, just like his therapist, Ella, advised him to. First he tries to actually write. Physically. It’s too strenuous. He’s not used to writing by hand anymore. Besides the pages more often than not, gets soaked from his dripping tears, and the ink gets smeared all over the paper.

He'll use the blog, but he’ll disable comments. Although he does it for his own sanity, it may help the few friends he’s got to understand what he’s going through. He hasn’t exactly been socialising since Sherlock jumped off that roof, and he rarely answers his phone. 

He wants it to be a system to this. Each blog post will have its own topic. If not, John’s confident it’ll be just him babbling, not even making sense to himself. Today he feels a bit less depressed, and he can start with the anger.

I’m so angry with you, Sherlock. How could you kill yourself in front of me? Making me witness my best friend jump off a building to his death. Did you think I wouldn’t mind? That I wouldn’t grieve you just because I was pissed with you when I left you? You, the most observant man who’s ever walked the earth. How could you not know, you meant the world to me? What do you think it was like talking to you when you stood up there? I heard the tears in your voice, and you must’ve heard my despair as well. When I saw you lying at the pavement, my life ended too, you know. My whole world shattered. You were taken away before I could say a proper goodbye. How do you think that made me feel, Sherlock? Damn, you!

John’s mentally exhausted after posting the entry. He’s shaking with anger against Sherlock. Without giving it a second thought, he grabs his jacket and heads out to get some air. He walks quickly wherever his feet carries him. He doesn’t care much, and he must look quite intimidating, because other pedestrians are clearly avoiding him.

He makes tea and toast when he gets back. The anger has dissipated a bit. It’s actually liberating to feel something again. For weeks he’s just been numb. Haven’t cared about anything. He startles when his phone buzzes. A text from Molly. He deletes it without looking. She has most likely read the blog entry and wants to comfort him or something. Mike and Greg texts him a few hours later. John deletes those texts too. 

***

A few days later the anger is long gone. Another feeling has emerged in his mind the last couple of hours. His faith in Sherlock. It’s always been there, but never as strong as it is now. Curious, that.

From the first day I met you, I had faith in you, Sherlock. That drug bust at 221B told you that much. Perhaps I put you on a pedestal for a while, come to think of it. Nevertheless, despite all your odd habits, sulks and annoying behaviour, I always believed in who you were. The core of you. Not to flatter myself, but I think I knew you quite well. Perhaps not as well as Mycroft, although he once said that I knew you best of all. All that’s been said about you after you died, makes me believe in you even more. Because I know, Sherlock, that you never were a fraud. You may have shammed and tricked people for a case, but you were never a fake. To the day I die myself, I’ll deny that with everything I’ve got.

Again, John’s mentally exhausted after posting the new entry, but in another sort of way. The adrenaline doesn’t zing through his veins. It’s more like he’s poured out his soul. And in a way he has. He’s never uttered those words to anyone. 

Before the day is over, his phone buzzes with texts from Molly, Greg and Mike. He deletes all of them without reading. This quest is something he wants to execute without input from anyone.

***

A week passes without the urge to write. When the familiar nightmare appears one night, John knows it’s time for another blog post. He had waked screaming Sherlock’s name, seeing him fall from that roof again. His heart pounded like he’d run a marathon and his face was wet from crying, sobbing really.

How did I fail to see that something was amiss, Sherlock? I loathe myself for not observing you more thoroughly. Moriarty clouded my vision. You were so absorbed in his endeavours to get your attention. Flattered maybe, that another genius wanted to play with you. I should’ve seen that his only goal was to destroy you. He said so the first time. At the pool. “I’ll burn the heart out of you.” Whatever he meant by that. He certainly burned the heart out of me, if he had anything to do with your suicide. It must’ve been that. You would never do what you did unless you had no other choice. Am I right, Sherlock? I think I am, which makes it even harder to bear. The thought that if I’d been just a little bit smarter, more alert, less stubborn and angry with you....I might’ve saved you.

John shuts his phone off and drinks half a bottle of whisky after posting that entry, or letter as he’s started to call them. 

***

This will be his last letter. John knows that this also will be the hardest one, and maybe it’ll be the one that starts his healing properly. His grief’s still raw. Some days are better, other worse. This one tip more in favour of the latter.

How much can a man grieve before it destroys him, Sherlock? All I know is that I’ve grieved enough to last a lifetime. That said, I’ll never stop grieving you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Being in your orbit, saved my life. I was so lost back then, and now I’m even more lost. Because now I know what it’s like to be whole, to have a purpose, to wake every day, feeling excited about what may await me. A new case, a severed head in the fridge, listening to beautiful music from your violin, having takeaway from our favourite places, or dinner at Angelo’s, bantering with you about the lack of milk, or nagging you to eat something. There are so many things that vanished from my life when you died, Sherlock. Are you aware of that? I’m just existing nowadays. The amount of tears I’ve shed could fill the pond in Regent’s Park. I’ve hid them here at Baker Street. Out and about I put on a mask. Motionless. Stony. Speaking of. I’ve only been to your grave once since the funeral. The stone fits you. Polished, black with golden letters. Only your name. No dates or quotes. I talked to you when I stood in front of that stone. Asked you for a favour. To do one last magic trick. For me.

For an unknown reason, John enables comments after this entry, but hours go by, and the comment sections are still empty. Maybe he’d miscalculated people’s interest in him. After all, the readers of his blog were all interested in Sherlock, not in him, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

He takes a shower and heads for the bedroom when he hears a sound he hasn’t heard for ages. Someone’s commented on the blog. Probably Molly or Mike. His curiosity gets the better of him, though. The comment is on the last entry.

I heard you. SH

A bit angsty. I can reveal that I shed my share of tears throughout alongside with John...

@totallysilvergirl @notjustamumj @raina-at @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear

[angelo-the-doctor-of-feelings]

Hey, uh… sorry if this is rude or personal or something- But can you talk about any experience you’ve had with a panic attack? like a story of you having one or one of your brothers having one? thanks

Donnie had a full-blown panic attack recently.

Donnie allowed me to share this story with you.

Warnings: food issues, disordered eating (?)

It was a typical morning, Donnie was the first to get up & started brewing coffee in our kitchen.

I'm always the second to great the day - it's my unofficial job to make breakfast, then Raph joins later, drawn in by the lovely smell of food & and lastly our night owl, Leon. I actually doubt he gets proper sleep anyway. He's up until the morning hours & then randomly passes out of exhaustion.

I decided to make pancakes for everyone, Donnie insisted to eat his same food, oatmeal - he always sticks to those when he's having a hard time or when he knows it will get stressful OR when the day had been stressful. I have stopped to ask him for a change in his eating habits since pressure won't do anything & I'm happy he eats. You should know that Donnie's relationship with food is complicated & it has been very troublesome in the past.

We started preparing the food & setting the table.

I decided to make some strawberry yogurt to go with the pancakes when I had the dough ready to bake.

"Hey Donald, could I get some of your yogurt?"

"Sure." He passed me the container without giving me a glance & I noticed he was staring at his bowl.

"Is everything alright?" I asked carefully.

He didn't answer.

I shrugged it off & started baking the pancakes & mixing the yogurt with the chopped strawberries.

I was growing a bit concerned by the minutes passing. Usually, Donnie vocally stims (chirping & soft humming) when he's preparing his food, but on this day, it was different. Donnie didn't make a single noise.

When the pancakes were ready, Raph joined us & finished setting the table.

"Yo, Mike, yo Don!"

Donnie remained silent as he placed his bowl of oatmeal at his place. Raph looked at me puzzled, but all I could do was shrug.

After breakfast was ready to consume, I went to wake Leon, who slept in (again).

Before I left the kitchen, Donnie grabbed my bath robe (it's sooo comfy!) with a tight grip.

His face was blank & he seemed very tense. "Yes, Donnie?"

He struggled to find words, I saw it. This is never a good sign. I raised my hands & wiggled my fingers to signal he could do sign language as well.

Donnie let go & started signing.

"I can't eat."

"What do you mean, you can't eat?" I asked carefully.

"It's the oatmeal."

"What about it?"

Donnie fidgeted with his hands, looking away. I touched his shoulder comfortingly. He had eaten it for three years straight, every single day. What could have been wrong with it now?

"Don't worry, Donnie. You don't have to eat. I am going to wake Leon now, alright?"

My purple brother simply nodded & I left the kitchen.

Only to find Donnie absolutely devastated a few minutes later sitting on the kitchen floor, rocking back & forth while crying.

"Oh my gosh, what happened, Raph?" Leon was still very sleepy, but he was quickly awake when he saw Donnie.

"He smelled at his oats & then just started crying & shaking!" Raph answered.

I sat beside Donnie & tried talking to him, but he couldn't communicate verbally, nor with his hands.

He was hyperventilating.

"Shit."

And then our group dynamics changed as they ways do, when something like this happens:

I fixed my glasses (I usually wear contacts) & got up.

Therapist Dr. Feelings became the leader of the team.

I told Raph to pick Donnie up & carry him to his room & I told Leo to gather Donnie's emergency kit for situations like these from his lab.

Donnie has a plan for every possible situation that we both worked out together.

I could cry every time I have to make Raph carry Donnie when he's having a panic attack or a meltdown. Donnie started screaming & hissing at Raph when he tried to pick him up. When Raph had him in his arms, Donnie started hitting him.

But Raphael is strong & he doesn't mind that. He knows Donnie is not able to think clearly & he's in stress & survival mode.

"He can hit Raph. It's cool. Just not himself."

We put him under his weighted blankets & made his room dark & I turned on his infrared lamp for warmth & comfort.

He instantly calmed down a bit & his hand reached out under the mess of blankets & pillows, Leon had put on him.

I took his hand & I stayed with him for five hours until he whispered:

"I lost my favourite same food today, Mikey."

"What happend?"

"It was weird. All of a sudden, I couldn't stand the smell of it. I couldn't even bring myself to eat it. I felt sick & ready to throw up if I had put some of it in my mouth. I'm afraid, Mikey. What if I lose my other foods, too? What if I can't eat anything anymore? I don't want to go down that spiral again."

And I understood why he had panicked.

He lost his safe food, that literally saved him out of his disordered eating spiral. All of a sudden.

No wonder he panicked.

"We will always be there to help you, Donnie. You don't have to battle your mind alone."

He hasn't touched oats, yogurt & pudding since then. I saw that he tried, but he always got nervous & put them back.

Now Donnie only eats rice cakes & peanut butter, but hey, he eats.

Sometimes, I wish I could take all his struggles away.

[angelofrainfrogs]

Into the Pit: Ch. 2

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: He should be in the Daycare. 

Gregory emerges from the ball pit to find not the bright, rainbow room he’s accustomed to, but a house with a huge backyard and a kiddie pool of plastic “water.” Calling for Gregory is a familiar voice—Michael. Only this time it’s not Charlie or Freddy by his side, but someone completely new. And why do they insist on calling him their son?

Gregory soon comes to realize this existence is vastly different from anything he remembers. Perhaps these last few weeks at the Pizzaplex have all been a dream…?

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

“No, he isn’t,” Michael said, still in that quiet, measured voice. One hand rubbed mindless patterns on Gregory’s back, giving him something to focus on besides the terrible images his brain was twisting William’s masked appearance into.

“You love Bonnie, remember?” Mike reminded gently. It was true—Freddy was the clear favorite, but Bonnie undoubtedly had a special place in Gregory’s heart, too. “And anyway, you know that’s not really Bonnie. It’s just your troublesome granddad…”

He trailed off with a purse of his lips. William was wonderful with Gregory for the most part, but damn did Michael wish the stubborn man listened to him sometimes.

“William adores you, Greg, and he’d never do anything to hurt you.” There was a pause as Michael seemed to consider something.

What had the therapist said? Sometimes Gregory might be afraid of things that seem irrational, and the fear might pop up suddenly. The best thing to do in that situation was to assure him there were people around to protect him and let him come out of it on his own time. Michael certainly experienced a similar thing with Evan growing up… just another way his brother and his son were connected besides their coincidental looks.

“I’m not moving until you’re ready for me to,” Michael assured, still keeping up that steady pattern tracing with his fingertips. It was a silent way to say: I’m here. I love you. You’re not alone anymore. “Take all the time you need."

Gregory wasn't letting go of Michael. For the time being, the guy was all that he could trust—

But how could he say all those things? It contradicted everything Gregory thought he knew about... well, everything.

Gregory managed to sniffle, holding in his fear and swallowing it long enough to see the room that Michael had taken him into. They were sat on a soft rug that looked like it’d been plucked straight from a 90's arcade—a deep blue background with many little neon shapes and blacklight designs. A loft bed loomed over them with a kid-sized desk and impressive desktop computer facing them. From what he could see, many posters from the Pizzaplex were hanging in frames along the walls, perfectly filling empty spaces of the striped wallpaper. For now, Gregory would ground himself on Michael's words and his surroundings alone; combined, they were enough to get his bearings.

Was this really his life?

Could he even trust Michael anymore…?

When Gregory pulled away just slightly to look Mike in the eyes, everything inside told him that he could. The worried way Michael glanced at him was the same look he had inside the Daycare before he entered that damn ball pit.

“...Dad?” Gregory tried experimentally. In the apparent absence of Freddy, that's who Mike was to him now in this weird maybe-dream-world, right? His father.

He'd have to calm down; pretend as if he knew everything that was going on and soak in this new perspective. It might be the only way to survive until he got a legitimate handle on things.

“I-I'm really sorry... I don't know what came over me,” Gregory apologized, recognizing his fears were irrational, even if they didn't feel like it. If Michael didn't hate William—if William was a good person—then Gregory wasn't sure if he could believe his own instincts anymore.

The kid wasn't even aware that there'd been a good eight minutes where he simply said nothing and clung to his dad's shirt. Sometimes that's all he needed; time to figure it out in his head. Even now he was left flailing inside his own mind, trying to come to terms with what his life was. It wasn't nearly as bad as he was making it seem, surely. Yet it was certainly different; uprooting. 

“Hey, what’ve we talked about? No apologizing for that sort of thing, alright?” Finally, Michael’s face softened into a slightly less concerned expression. He gave Gregory a squeeze, a tiny smile lifting up the corner of his mouth. “It’s fine for you to be afraid of things, even if they might seem ridiculous. As long as you know that you’re safe and that your dad and I are here for you at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.” He chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “And your grandpa too, despite his eccentricities.”

Michael would need to have a serious talk with William about not sneaking up behind Gregory like that… if Jeremy hadn’t already taken up the task, of course. Running his fingers through Gregory’s hair, he had to ask: “Is there anything you want to talk about? It’s fine if not, but if there’s something I can ease your mind on, I’d like to try.”

Mike and Jer tried to be relatively open books with Gregory, in the hopes that someday he’d understand that he really could tell them anything—good or bad.

Gregory looked at him with scrunched eyebrows. Michael was right on some level; blaming himself for the reactions everyone was pulling from him wasn't going to help. He thought hard about how he wanted to phrase everything, trying to search for some truth in the fog of this place—to deduce if he was truly awake or dreaming right then.

“...I think I had the most realistic dream of my entire life. And it freaked me out so bad I, like—forgot what real life is for a minute?” Gregory said slowly, unsure in himself. Was that a thing? Where people couldn't tell what was real or not because of the vividness of their dreams? “I was trapped with you and Charlie in the Pizzaplex—but you guys were ghosts inside of robots? Th-Then Freddy adopted me and—and Will—no, Pappy, I guess? That's weird... He was trying to put this glowy stuff in me with a syringe and make me live forever...”

The more Gregory talked about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. A child's terrified flight of fancy rather than something rooted in reality. In his messed-up mind, was Freddy a replacement for his parents? Was William truly a good family man?

There was warmth under his fingertips, and he’d heard the distinctive beating of a heart as he rested on Michael’s chest. Was everyone still alive?

Gregory’s eyes snapped back up to Michael. “It was so real! Everyone was there, too!”  

For a moment, Mike simply listened to Gregory’s rant with an attentive look. He did a pretty good job keeping his expression measured, though it was a wonder he didn’t chip a tooth with how hard his jaw was clenched.

This was… a lot. Gregory certainly had a vivid imagination, but Michael didn’t realize it was this good. To have a dream so lucid one was convinced reality was the false world? He’d heard of that happening before, but never did he think Gregory would experience such a thing.

“…Wow,” he remarked after a moment of processing, blinking down at his son a few times before smiling again. “That sounds like quite an adventure! No wonder you’re so on edge today.”

Especially if he thought he’d been adopted by a robot bear, his family was dead, and his dear old grandad was going to inject him with immortal juice…

“I can assure you, though—” Michael went on, a playful glint in his eye even though his words were sincere. “I am one hundred boring flesh and blood. So’s Charlie—no freaky human robots or ghosts to be found. And like I said, Pappy wouldn’t lay a finger on you. Besides—” A dark little grin curled up the corner of Michael’s mouth, reminding Gregory of the unflappable determination to protect his family lurking just underneath the surface. “—Father knows I’d take him down in a heartbeat if he even thought of harming a hair on your head.”

Said brown hair was ruffled to an unruly degree as if to demonstrate this fact. When the boys settled again, Michael met Gregory’s gaze with one of complete understanding and acceptance. “Thanks for telling me all this, Gregory. Are you feeling any better now?”

He didn't feel great, but talking about it did help. Gregory rubbed his face before answering, finding Michael's retort a little funny as the first hint of a smile reached his lips.

“Yeah... I don't know what made me think any of that was real.” He spoke as if he didn't quite want to admit it. He sniffed, clearing his nose a little as his breathing returned to normal, leaning his head into his dad’s hand with a sigh. The power of dreams, he supposed. Of his own accord, Gregory gave Michael a proper hug, thanking him. “I'm glad you're easy to talk to... Dad.”

He found it hard not to call him Michael for some odd reason. Gregory stood, ready to go back and face down the man he was so convinced was a monster hell-bent on capturing him, and the stranger who also called himself “Dad.” He trusted Michael's word above anything, and was sure that he could trust anyone Mike trusted, too.

The moniker was a little forced, but that was alright. Perhaps Michael wasn’t Gregory’s father in this hyper-realistic dream? He wasn’t sure what else he’d be to the kid whose adoption papers were literally locked within the safe box in his room, but it seemed Gregory trusted him regardless.

“And I’m glad you feel that way, Greg,” Michael replied, watching his son finally dislodge his death grip and stand. Mike’s shirt was a bit wet from the sniffling, though he didn’t care. “You can come to me and Jer about anything—we’re always here for you.”

That guy was just as head over heels about Gregory as Michael was, and through Gregory had always seemed to lean slightly more on Mike, over time he’d accepted that Jeremy was just as willing to listen with a caring ear.

“Speaking of your dad—” Michael’s grin widened, the gold band on his finger glinting in the light when he held out his left hand for Gregory to take. “—we should probably make sure he and Pappy still have all their limbs intact.”

It was a clear joke, but things had been a little tough when the blonde initially fell into Michael’s life. William came around eventually though—and he’d done the same for Gregory. Now the pair were just another set in the ever-expanding Afton family.

It was true that Jeremy and William had a rocky start to their relationship. Over time, Jeremy being a part of Michael’s life as well as his own became routine and unavoidable. It wasn’t something William could fight, as the man made his son happy. Eventually they found common ground. It was around the time that the boys had decided to adopt Gregory that their squabbles teetered off, in fact.

Giving his face one last wipe with his sleeve, Gregory trusted his hand to Mike’s and followed him back down the staircase. This time Gregory took closer looks at the many frames that were scattered on the walls, trying his best to associate names with faces on the way down. Sitting calmly at the table, leg crossed one over the other was his supposed grandfather, leaning back as he blew on a piping cup of tea. His pale eyes flicked to Gregory, and he smiled sweetly.

“Gregory… I’m so sorry for scaring you, sport. I didn’t see that you were frightened,” William apologized, not moving as he waited for the boy’s approach.

“S’alright…,” Gregory murmured in response, seeing just from demeanor alone that this William was certainly different than the one he met before.

Still strange beyond a doubt—but less overtly psychotic off the bat.

Clearing his throat, William pushed the present on the table towards Gregory as a peace offering.

“I spent a good two weeks on this one,” he boasted, looking down at his fingernails with charismatic glib. “Don’t feel like you have to open it now, but I thought you’d find it useful.”

If it was anything like the last present he gave Gregory, it might be painful. Waiting would only raise his anxiety though, so Gregory carefully unwrapped the present, flinching with each little sound the crinkling paper made. He looked to Jeremy and Michael before lifting the tiny lid, as if waiting for final reassurance that a hypodermic needle wasn’t about to pop out of this thing, too.

“Go ahead, little dude! You’re gonna love it,” Jeremy encouraged, so Gregory did—and gasped at what he saw: the tiniest Music Man ever!

Looking oh-so-impressed with himself, William leaned his weight on the back legs of his chair. “Yep! Complete with a Bluetooth speaker and an alarm function! He’s a little friend who can play you tunes and wake you up in the morning.”

“Amazing work as ever, Dad,” Michael praised, patting William on the shoulder as he passed on the way to the stove. Satisfied that Gregory wasn’t going to scream in fright or lash out at the gift, Mike turned away to pour his own cup of tea using water from the still-hot kettle.

William was happy for the recognition—even if he had a little help from his dear friend Henry for the detail work, it wasn’t unlike him to put on a persona of being able to do everything.

While the leaves steeped, Michael sidled up to Jeremy in the kitchen. Resting his hip against the counter, Michael leaned over to murmur in his ear. “He’ll be okay—he had a bad nightmare. Super realistic; made him all out of whack. I think he’ll be in a bit of a funk the rest of the day, but he already seems to be getting better.”

“He’s feeling sensitive today. Poor little man…,” Jeremy whispered in a pained sigh. He wished he could wave Gregory’s woes away with a few choice words or actions. Sadly, Gregory’s therapist said some days just weren’t going to be easy. Still, he and Mike knew the kid was far better off with them now, despite the occasional setbacks.

Gregory was stunned for a moment. He didn’t expect anything good to come from a present courtesy of William Afton, let alone a personal mini-bot. Noting the carabiner on his back, Gregory quickly clipped Mini Music Man to the belt loop on his cargo shorts.

“I love him… Thank you,” Gregory said honestly, looking like he was about to cry again, but held back the tears. It was, ironically, the first birthday gift he'd gotten in years. Or at least the first one he could remember. He was pulled into a side hug by William, unexpected but not completely unwarranted.

“Alright!” Michael stood up straight, clapping his hands together with a grin. “Here’s the plan for today: we can hang out here and digest breakfast, then get changed and meet the Emilys at the Pizzaplex. Sound good?”

His tea was steeped well enough now, so he picked up the cup and took a long, satisfying sip. Nursing the mug in his hands, he raised an eyebrow at William. “Think you’ll come along, Dad? I can ask if Liz and Evan want to meet there, too—make it a real party.”

Of course, there was already a private event planned tomorrow for Gregory’s actual birthday… But there was always time to host an impromptu one, even if the “party” just involved roaming the Pizzaplex playing whatever games caught their fancy.

As Gregory listened to his apparent father, William leaned over to gently tuck a lock of hair behind the boy's head in silent inspection. Not quite in a judgmental manner, though perhaps looking at the quality of his cut. Finding it very odd with the way William cared about his appearance, Gregory just let him play with his shaggy locks. It seemed to keep the old guy happy. Even if it was reminiscent of the horrible time he had in Fazerblast…

“I was planning on it. Henry left his cards at my house last Wednesday,” William replied to Mike without looking. “Should he not be in, I’m sure Samuel or Charlotte could give them back for me.”

“I wanna see Evan and Liz!” Gregory exclaimed, hoping maybe they’d have some ideas as to what was going on. Now that he was calming down, Gregory could think clearly how to go about finding out what happened to him.

“Okay, okay!” Michael laughed, holding one of his palms up as if to stop the force of Gregory’s excitement from bowling him over. At least he still had the same enthusiasm about his aunt and uncle that he always did.

Taking another long swig of tea, Michael too noted Gregory’s hair. Glancing side-long at Jeremy, by the confused look on his face it seemed like he hadn’t been responsible for the new ‘do either. Maybe Gregory did it himself? A little form of self-expression as he neared his teenage years. The half-flattened style’s reminiscence to one Mike wore in the 80's brought a little smile to his lips.

After downing the rest of his drink, Michael pulled out his phone. As he typed a message to his “Afton Bros (& Sis)” group chat, he suggested: “Greg, why don’t you chill in the living room with dad and grandpa while I get changed; I’m sure you can find some reruns of Freddy and Friends, if you want.”

Michael paused his typing, glancing up to make sure Gregory was okay with the idea. If he still wasn’t comfortable being left alone with the others, they’d make do—although Mike hoped the kid would be fine doing something as innocuous as watching TV with his dad.

Jeremy seemed to be waiting with baited breath for Gregory’s response. And, from Gregory’s perspective, he was pretty sure he could outrun William should he feel threatened. He didn’t know about Jeremy though. The guy looked like he was still fairly active for some guy in his fifties—

Not just “some guy,” Gregory thought, trying to reason with his own paranoia. He’s your other dad. And the dude made you the best pancakes. He must care about you.

“Sure!” he said, noting Jeremy perk up at his chipper response.

Jer was thankful that the strangeness of this morning had mostly blown over. Gregory was back to Earth so to speak, and he started off for the living room first—but not before giving Michael a grateful squeeze around the waist before departing from him. William stood up, using the table before him as leverage.

“You two go ahead without me; I’ll be having a smoke outside,” he warned, knowing Jeremy and Michael hated when he smoked indoors—especially around the kid.

“I wish you'd quit that habit,” Mike said with the heavy sigh of a long-standing argument. The Aftons were all stubborn in their own right, and William and Michael were the most strong-willed of them all. It was sometimes a wonder how they managed to get along as well as they did, with all the age-old bickering they got into.

Despite this, it was clear they cared for each other. With another pat to his father's shoulder as they split ways, Michael headed off to his room to get changed and clean up a bit before their outing.

***

When Mike came back downstairs, he heard one of the most pleasing sounds in the universe: the laughter of his two favorite people. Grinning from ear to ear, he stepped into the living room to see the pair sitting on the couch together, giggling at some stupid joke Jeremy was telling. The TV was on, and true to Michael's prediction the familiar animals were up to their hijinks on screen. No one really seemed to be paying attention though, and it sent a pang of warmth through Michael's heart to see Gregory and Jeremy having fun together.

“Oh god... what dumb story is Jer telling you now?” Michael asked, sinking into the cushion on Gregory's other side. “I bet Sam can hear you guys cackling from the Pizzaplex...”

Gregory had been leaning on Jeremy’s shoulder, laughing along with him. To fill Mike in, Jeremy tried his best to stop his chuckles. “I was telling Greg about that time I took over nightshift for that week, around when we first met. You remember how we had to wear those masks?”

There were various reasons why they used the masks from what Jeremy remembered. The biggest was so that the animatronics didn’t escort you back to the ‘party,’ even though opening hours were long past. Such buggy A.I….

“Remember when they found me with Bonnie hugging me? He thought I was Freddy and just bugged out. I don’t know if you knew—but I was sitting still for 4 hours,” Jeremy went on, recalling how he couldn’t move or say anything as Bonnie talked and talked. Gregory started laughing again when Jeremy retold the story, maybe not as hard but still finding that situation both horrifying and hilarious altogether.

“If our manager didn’t find me in the morning, I was going to pee myself. HE WOULDN’T LET ME GET UP,” Jeremy stressed, relating to one moment in his life where he was genuinely afraid of Bonnie, even if the bunny wasn’t trying to hurt him to begin with. The story itself was for Gregory not to feel upset when he was scared by William’s mask.

Will, who sat comfortably in a Lay-Z-Boy adjacent to the couch, had a smirk across his face. He got a silent kick out of knowing Jeremy was trapped in a confined office with one of his designs. Still, it was a good thing he wasn’t seriously hurt, or it might not have been so funny of a story for him or the business.

“That facial recognition software—always told Henry the programming had holes,” William reminisced amiably. Though technological marvels in themselves, the older models were a far cry from the Glamrocks that free-roamed the halls of the Pizzaplex.

“Gregory, you want to go change?” Michael suggested once the group had calmed down. Even if the kid loved that adorable hoodie, it was in definite need of a wash... The thin layer of dirt and dust led Mike to wonder how long he'd had the thing without their knowledge, let alone what he'd gotten into while wearing it. “We can leave once you and Jer are ready.”

Jeremy lifted one of Gregory's arms to inspect the sleeve of the hoodie with a grimace.

“Dude, please change this. These stains are probably going to set if I don't pretreat it,” he said, hoping to convince their son when it looked like he still wanted to cling to this new favored piece of clothing.

“Al-riiiight...” Gregory sighed, reluctantly unzipping his hoodie to relinquish into Jer's waiting hands.

“Thank you,” Jeremy replied, making a stop in the laundry room before heading upstairs to change. As he folded the hoodie over a few times to count all the stains he'd have to touch up, he reminded kindly: “Put your dirty clothes in the hamper, too, please—not just the floor.”

Gregory felt almost bad, abandoning the idea of Freddy as his father figure—he and the bear had gone through so much together. Apparently though, it all seemed to be a figment of his imagination.

“Sure, Dad; I'll be down in a minute!” Gregory would find no issue tidying up to keep the nice house he suddenly lived in clean, as the conditions he'd remembered living inside his dreams with those horrendous demons Rita and Terry scared him straight about being the least bit messy.

William watched Gregory go with a thoughtful look on his face, waiting until the boy was out of earshot to quirk a brow at his eldest.

“Remember when he was little and would put his underwear on the outside of his pants?” he asked, laughing softly at the memory. “I can't believe he's going to be thirteen tomorrow... It's like you two only got him yesterday.”

Michael snorted, shaking his head at the endearing recollection. One of the first times meeting his granddad, William had popped over for a surprise visit and Gregory managed to slip out of his room before Jeremy could finish helping him dress—underwear over his jeans, no shirt to be found, and one sock on inside-out. Michael had been mortified, since William was still warming up to the idea of a grandkid that wasn't his own blood... but thankfully the incident had the opposite effect, as the Afton patriarch burst out into laughter at the sight of the kid bolting out of his room with Jeremy tripping after him. From that moment on, it was clear who the favorite grandkid was (though Will would never admit this aloud).

Even if Gregory didn't share the same genetics—though it was pretty damn questionable with Evan's little face staring back at them every day—he'd somehow burrowed his way into William's heart.

When Michael and Jeremy told William that Gregory came from a bad foster house, he was ready to call the child a bad apple before setting eyes on him. He’d been fully prepared to show up at their home for a rather disappointing meeting of some random child. William didn't like admitting he was wrong—but this time he made a supremely rare exception to his own rules by apologizing for his opinions on the adoption the same night.

“I'm just glad he's adjusted so well,” Michael responded, angling his body to face his father in the recliner. They'd been warned Gregory came with some baggage, but that only made Jeremy and Mike all the more determined to provide him with a safe, loving home. 

“Mhm, me too,” William agreed, sure that they were thinking similarly as his vision trailed to the TV once more.

Gregory heard Jeremy pass his room as he searched the place for clues about his life. Anything to try and jog a memory he seemingly lost. He found journals, old stationary pages from a school he didn’t remember attending. Gregory Fitz-Afton, was his name to the fullest extent of his knowledge. He apparently owned a few gaming consoles, neatly tucked away into wooden cubbies in his room and covered in stickers and decals. A sweet-looking computer set up under his loft bed made him wish he remembered having such nice things... Maybe later he’d be able to discover more pieces to who he truly was.

When Jeremy knocked at his door and asked him if he was almost ready to leave, Gregory had to quickly shove all the evidence he was gathering back atop his dresser. From there he called that he’d be just five minutes and quickly found an outfit: jeans, tank top, flannel. A quick change, and after remembering to carry his dirty clothes to the hamper he was barreling down the stairs in no time.

“Whoa!” With a fast-step, Michael narrowly avoided getting run over by his wayward child. Tutting, he called after the disappearing figure: “No running in the house, Gregory! Thaaaank you!”

Another few minutes of final preparation and everyone was gathered by the front door. Michael patted down his pockets, making sure he had his keys and wallet—containing their priceless all-access Pizzaplex passes, of course—before looking to the group with a smile. “Okay, I think we're ready!”

With a turn of the knob the door was opened and they filed out. After making sure the house was locked tight, Michael trotted down the front steps after the others.

“We'll see you in a bit, Dad,” he said, watching William get in the little purple car. Holding up a set of keys, he jingled them in the air before tossing them to his husband. “Jer—catch! You're driving today.”

“HECK yes!” Jeremy rejoiced. After the keys landed hard into his palm, he went and opened up Gregory’s door for him before trekking over to the driver's side of the van. Before starting the engine, he made sure that Gregory was buckled—the kid tended to forget all the time and they were trying to break the bad habit in him while he was young. “Greg, you all set?” 

“Yup; let's go!” Gregory replied easily, to looking out the window. He took stock of the neighborhood—houses spaced far apart with nice, manicured lawns. It seemed pretty nice, and it was a shame Gregory still knew nothing about this place.

He only felt the car move as soon as William pulled out into the road to start speeding down the cul-de-sac. Jeremy raised a brow, easing onto the main road at a much more reasonable pace. “Ey, Mikey, is your dad trying to race me?”

Gregory preoccupied his time with inspecting the Mini Music Man, unhooking him from his belt loop and playing with his limp little legs before finding the tiniest button that powered him on. The spider-like musical creature immediately scurried up Gregory's arm, eliciting a surprised sound as the robotic companion came to rest on his shoulder. There, he played a little midi-synthesizing beat that Gregory found himself laughing at.

“Pay him no mind,” Michael said quickly, face paling at the memory of all the near-misses—and some not misses—William had caused over the years due to his frankly concerning driving. There was a reason Mike always insisted on taking their car whenever they went on family outings...

At the sound of Gregory's gasp Michael shifted around to look in the back seat, chuckling along with his son when the excited robot played its jaunty little tune.

“That's adorable,” he remarked, having to give his dad credit for his skill—even though he was sure Uncle Henry had at least a small part in the design. Assured that Gregory was okay for the moment, Michael turned back around to stare out the window, smiling as he felt Jeremy grasp his hand where it rested between the front seats.

Gregory was both astonished and relieved that the little automaton didn't try to stab him the moment of its activation. He giggled at the silly creature, entertained through the 20-minute ride from the sleepy cul-de-sac towards the inner portions of Hurricane. This area was more his speed; he knew these streets and free spots to hang around in vividly. He’d slept on these park benches, the memory of cold stone still pressed into his skin.

Gregory absently rubbed his forearms to chase away the phantom chill. If it’d all been a dream, then why did it feel so real?

***

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[briamichellewrites]

70

Meow. Bark! When the animals heard a car approaching the house, they gathered at the front door. They anticipated the arrival of their humans. They greeted them as soon as they opened the door. You are home! Hello, humans! They said hello to them and tried not to step on their paws. It had been a long and emotional day. All they wanted to do was relax. Brad stayed at the hospital with Bria and Jon. He would be returning home later. Jon was the highlight of the day because he made Bria happy.

She had the biggest smile on her face when he walked in. He and Dave were both thrilled to have him there because they had been fans of his band, Bon Jovi, when they were younger. Mike remembered listening to them with Bria when they were hanging out at her "party house." She would play their greatest hits album repeatedly. He wished he could go back there. It was private.

He and Jason loved it because they could do whatever they wanted without their parents' knowledge. They never did anything illegal. Rather, they hung out and discussed topics they could not tell their parents. Independence was something they desired as teenagers and young adults. That house was where they had their first kiss. It was also where they got together. That house held so many wonderful memories. He wished he could return there and spend the afternoon.

Dave interrupted his memories by asking what he was thinking. He was simply thinking about innocence. What did he mean?

"Jon reminded me of when Bria, Jason, and I were younger. We would listen to his albums over and over. That reminded me of the house she lived in after graduating from high school. We called it 'the party house.'"

"Are they good memories?"

"Okay, yeah. It’s just… I do not even know what the correct term is. How did life go by so quickly? I guess that is what I am thinking about."

“I don’t know. It goes by before you know it."

“How was your appointment?”

He was so grateful that he pushed him to go. The therapist was an army veteran who had been diagnosed with PTSD. He had to retire due to his diagnosis. A veteran at the VA encouraged him to pursue a career in therapy. He was going to be evaluated for possible PTSD. How about his sleeping problems? He had a prescription for something to help him sleep. It was not addictive.

He felt relieved to hear that. Dave showed him the bottle. It included his name, instructions, and side effects. Good for him. His mental health was not something he should be embarrassed about. He gave a nod. That is what he learned from him, Bria, and Chester. They were both hungry but too tired to cook, so they looked in the refrigerator for leftovers. Dave asked him if he fed the animals. No, he had forgotten. He volunteered to do it.

After taking the dogs out, the rest of the evening was spent in the studio. Mike created beats that could be used on the band's next album, while Dave sat and listened. He needed to do something to help himself relax for the night. He always felt better after listening to music. Dave was just happy to be home, and it did not matter what they did as long as he was with his husband.

Jon and Brad did not stay long because she needed to rest. He had a few days before returning to New Jersey, so they made plans to meet again. If the situation were different, he would invite him over to hang out. Jon understood. When they arrived at the hotel where he was staying, they hugged and said goodbye. Brad returned to the car and drove home, listening to the radio. Ironically, Bon Jovi happened to be the song playing as he drove away.

You Give Love A Bad Name. 1986. He was twenty-three years old and attempting to make it as an actor. Brad Pitt was unknown to the general public at the time. A year later, he landed his first acting job. It was strange to look back and realize how far he would come. Time slipped past him. One moment he was William Bradley Pitt of Shawnee, Oklahoma. Then he became a Hollywood movie star.

He greeted Dave and Mike when he found them in the kitchen. They greeted him. They were all tired, so it was obvious that the night would be quiet. They talked while they ate. Brad was returning to the hospital the following morning. He would probably spend all day there. Mike and Dave decided to stay at home and catch up on housework because there was no reason for the three of them to be there. He was fine with that.

Have they taken the dogs out yet? If they had not already, he offered to do it. That was okay. They took them out when they arrived home. Dave thanked him for the offering. They said good night to Brad after finishing their dinners and went upstairs.

As they prepared for bed, Mike reminded him to take his medication. Oh, yeah. He opened the bottle and removed the necessary pills. They tasted terrible without water. He cupped his hands under the faucet and drank the water to wash away the taste. Mike had to laugh when he asked if that helped. Yes, it did. How did it taste? It had a chalky taste. He made a face.

“Ew.”

“I’m bringing a plastic cup up here tomorrow.”

“I’ll try to remind you.”

They slept late the next morning. Brad left a note informing them that he had taken the dogs out and left food for the animals. He would inform them when he was on his way home. The animals appreciated having their humans around. Instead of rushing somewhere, they stayed at home with them. They went out with the dogs for some exercise. They enjoyed chasing each other around the backyard.

Kate was chasing Misty when she abruptly came to a halt. She looked behind her and noticed her using the restroom. When she was finished, they resumed running around. Mike kept his phone in his pocket, just in case. He took it out after feeling it vibrate. It was Jason. He asked his brother why he was calling him, as he did not think he would be able to use his phone in rehab. Uh oh. Dave could tell by the tone of his voice and facial expressions that things were not going well.

"Jay, I am exhausted. I love you, but I need a stress-free day. You do not know what Dave, Brad, and I are going through. Bria is in the hospital with cancer. I will come to see you tomorrow, okay? Please give me 24 hours."

When he finished talking, he hung up frustrated. He asked what happened. Jason wanted him to attend a family therapy session. He seemed to feel the need to tell him something. Dave instructed him to take deep breaths. He did, and it helped him relax. Whatever it was, it could wait until the following day. He was at home, resting with his husband and pets.

After a while of playing, the dogs became tired. They ran back inside to get some water. Yum, Yum! It tasted delicious! The home was quiet and peaceful. Mike absorbed it for a moment. It was as if his stress level had decreased. Perhaps he and Dave could take a nap later. Just the two of them. That seemed like an amazing idea.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

[yours-etc]

TW: Mentions of abuse/harm (no descriptions of it)

Max and Eddie duo supremacy!!!

Eddie does not like Billy check. So this contains Billy slander.

——————

Eddie Munson couldn’t possibly hate a person more than he hated Billy Hargrove. He was the scum of the earth for all Eddie could care.

He first met Hargrove on Billy’s first day, Eddie’s second senior year. The second that boy walked through the school doors Eddie clocked him. That boy likes to kiss boys. It wasn’t a question.

Billy wasn’t Eddies type. He’d never admit it, but he like softer looking boys (cite his junior year crush on the all American boy Steve Harrington).

Eddie however was Billy’s type. But let’s be honest with ourselves, Hargrove would fuck anything with a pulse.

About one month in Billy cornered him after school one day, “Heard you who I need to see.”

This left a lot to the imagination.

“See for what? I proved a multitude of services, be more specific” Eddie didn’t feel the need to banter or tease like he normally did. Billy had this anger in him that he could just feel. Eddie was stupid but he didn’t go around point bears.

Hargrove backed him up to the wall, trapping him in.

“How about you give me a gram or two, I’ll give you…” He fades off and steps closer.

Eddie scoffs, “Billy I may be the only other gay man here for a hundred miles, but let me be fully transparent. I would rater nail my foot to the ground than fuck you.”

He didn’t take kindly to that.

Billy was a bully. So, when the town freak shows up with a busted lip and black eye no one scolds him or even takes a second glance at EddieWell besides Harrington who had a matching black eye and an equal hatred of Billy Hargrove.

When he heard about Billy’s death in the Starcourt fire he wasn’t going to pretend that he’d miss the guy. Eddie found the whole Starcourt fire to be strange, but he never looked into it. He just felt like something was off about it. It was the ‘80s and it was Hawkins, what didn’t feel off.

Then he meet Max Mayfield a few months later.

Max moved into the trailer park soon after the fire. She was a quiet kid, always had her headphones on. He didn’t know her before hand, but people talk. Say how she’s practically a shell of herself now, how she sees the school therapist once a week.

“She watched her brother die,” they all whisper in the halls. And as much as Eddie was glad Billy was gone, it wasn’t worth it to watch a young girl walk around like she wasn’t there.

“She looks a helluva lot like you when you first rolled up here,” Wayne said one day when max was skating around the gravel.

The Munsons and Mayfields didn’t interact much. One day Wayne made too much chili and sent Eddie over to deliver some to the neighbors. By this time Eddie had taken Dustin, Mike, and Lucas under his wing. He had heard them talk about max. Eddie felt like he practically knew everything about this girl (heard many a stories of her kicking Lucas out on his ass when he fucked up, it made Eddie strangely proud).

When Max opened the door to see Eddie standing there she looked a bit lost.

“Hey Eddie, whatcha doing here? Did one of the guys forget some D&D thing?”

Eddie laughed, ���Nah, Wayne made too much chili, we’re handing it out to the neighbors. Wanted to know if you’d like some?” He could see her mom passed out on the couch. A familiar scene to him, his heart cracked a bit.

“Umm… yeah sure,” she reached out for the bowl, “Thank you, I’ll wash the bowl when we finish it.”

“Take your time, I know where ya live,” He said sending a wink her way.

Five months later and the whole Vecna situation happens.

Eddie wakes up in a hospital bed with a tired looking Steve Harrington (that crush certainly came back full force).

“Hey Stevie”

“Hey Eds” Steve smoothed down Eddie’s hair and tucked it behind his ear, they have to talk about that one later.

“Where is everyone? Did l it work? Is it safe? How’d -“ Eddie tried to sit up but his sides screamed with pain.

Steve forced him to lay back down, “Easy there tiger, you can’t walk around just yet”

Harrington explained how they got everyone out, El closed the portal, and they rushed him and Max to the hospital.

“Wait what happened to Max?”

Eddie demanded that him and Max share a room. It made it easier on the kids and Steve and Robin to have them in the same place.

Max woke up a week later on Wednesday afternoon. Everyone was out picking up lunch so it was just the two of them. By then Eddie could move around a bit better.

“Hey there Mad Max” and Eddie’s face were a surprising yet welcoming thing to come back to.

After a while the two of them were released from the hospital. And once Eddie could drive again he carted Max along with him to and from school and physical therapy. He built her a ramp for her trailer and yelled at the High School board for not having wheelchair accessible entrance at the front of the building.

Max started walking a bit better and had to move to a less intensive physical therapy. They first day she walked in with her cane, Eddie by her side incase she needed help.

She checked in at the reception desk, “Hi I have an appointment for Maxine Mayfield.”

The receptionist looked up at the read head, “Splendid, and who is here with you today?”

With out missing a beat she replies “My brother, Edison Munson.”

Eddie cried about it in Steve’s room that night. He had never felt like he ever truly belonged anywhere until he met the party, until the was Max and Steve.

He was technically cleared of all charges, but rumors about him still circulated. And some nights he thought it just be better to run away, to disappear and leave this bell hole. But he had a sister he needed to look out for.

And maybe he hated Billy, for what he did. For how his death still hunts Max. For all the stories he hears about the guy. Yeah he hated Billy Hargrove, but no one deserves to die like that.

He despised that guy, but he was so eternally grateful for Hargrove’s sister, for his sister.

[sinclairss]

[DONALD GLOVER, CISMALE, HE/HIM/HIS] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [LUCAS SINCLAIR]? Old friends remember them as [LOYAL & ATHLETIC] but also [HEADSTRONG & SENSITIVE], no wonder they’re still known as [THE RANGER] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [35] and some people say they remind them of [COZY SWEATERS, BLACK COFFEE, EARLY MORNING RUNS, RED MARKS ON PAPER, THE SOUND OF A BASKETBALL BOUNCING ON A HARDWOOD FLOOR, SCUFFED BASKETBALL SHOES, HALF DRUNK BEER BOTTLES WITH PEELING LABELS, CAT FUR EVERYWHERE EVEN THOUGH HE’S NOT A CAT PERSON (ALLEGEDLY),]. [dani, 23, she/her/hers, est].

biography.

make new friends. step out of comfort zone and try new things. be yourself. that was lucas sinclair’s to-do list to surviving his freshman year of high school. 1986 had different plans for him. lucas did all of those things. he joined the basketball team over hellfire club, much to mike and dustin’s chagrin. he made a lifelong friend in jay demario. and, ultimately, he ran right back to the party when they needed him. he got his ass kicked by his team captain, watched helplessly as the first girl he loved cared for had her bones broken in half, and lost two of his best friends to the upside down. he failed. and that failure stuck with him for years. he was not going to fail anyone else like he’d failed to protect will and el. he was going to make sure his people were okay. and he was going to finish what he started in high school even if it killed him. so lucas sinclair went from benchwarmer to starting point guard, led the hawkins high tigers to back-to-back state championships, and earned himself a scholarship to notre dame so his parents wouldn’t have to worry about paying for his college just because he wasn’t as smart as erica, all while keeping tabs on dustin and mike and writing a bunch of letters he didn’t have an address to send to max that might still be shoved in the back of his closet.

he was an athlete and he played d&d with the hellfire club on the weekends. he dated a pretty girl who followed him to college. he was going to bring the fighting irish to the tournament, get noticed by scouts, and get a shoe deal. maybe he’d become an agent...or he’d play a few years professionally if he was lucky!

but lucas rode the bench his freshman year of college. he worked out all summer to earn his spot on the court and had a fantastic sophomore season...until a new year’s day tournament led to a torn acl. he had surgery, but the rehab was difficult. he fell into a pretty bad place, mis-using his pain pill prescriptions and eventually getting hooked. he made rash decisions including dropping out of school and heading home. he worked at family video while rehabbing his knee and saving up cash to...do what exactly? run off to california? very funny.

he spent two gap years in hawkins, going through the motions, occasionally hanging out with his old friends and and feeling trapped by the four walls of his childhood bedroom. a combination of reconnecting with mr. clarke while trespassing in the hawkins middle school gym and a good therapist that his mom definitely didn’t force him into seeing made things clearer to him. (marian tried, but it was honestly finding some of the old photos of the four of them in his classroom...and all of their old projects still taped up on the walls in mr. clarke’s classroom that gave him the nudge to return to school.)  he’d probably never play in the nba. not on a bum leg, anyway. and if he couldn’t do that, well, keeping the curiosity door open wasn’t a bad trade off.

he returned to notre dame two years and many lifetimes wiser, got a teaching degree, and walked back on to the basketball team. he helped the irish into the big dance and had a pretty successful athletic career while earning his degree. lucas even married his high school sweetheart while on a spring break trip to las vegas (which his mom is still pissed about, by the way!)

he and tracy probably would have moved to chicago if not for charles’ heart attack. lucas had to go home and, thankfully, his wife seemed content to follow him back to hawkins.

honestly? lucas got married because that’s what he thought he was supposed to be doing at twenty-three. some of his friends were married, most of them had kids, and his mom was dying to join the grandma train. lucas was (and is) still searching for something to fill the massive gap left when will and el died. he’s been trying for years: first with athletics, then his romantic relationships, then  with the pills and the weed and the booze he definitely didn’t get from jonathan or steve, but nothing ever makes him feel whole anymore.

the closest thing that does? seeing the spark a kid’s eyes when they finally figure out a difficult science concept. or the pure joy on every face when the girls’ basketball team he coaches finally wins a game. but as soon as he goes home to an empty apartment? he’s fucking lonely.

and he was lonely even before the divorce. he told tracy as much, and it...didn’t go over well. they fought, which was kind of...exhilarating, actually? they’d had a superficial spark that had burned hot and fast but died quickly and they both had just been going through the motions for years by the time lucas admitted that he just didn’t feel like it was worth it anymore.

his life is fine, if boring. he found some joy in coaching and substitute teaching at hawkins middle. when mr. clarke passed away, he stepped in automatically. if mr. clarke wasn’t there to guide the next generation, lucas sure would.

oh, and he’s also an uncle. which is pretty fun.

[cauldronofmorning]

jimmy mcgill

1: sexuality headcanon: bi, but he wasn't a great boyfriend to Marco. gave good head but distant and distracted. 2: otp: mcwexler for obvious reasons. 3: brotp: Jesse. Mirrors! Rivals! could have been friends if not for the horrors! 4: notp: I'm trying to think of one, but I can only think of badly done Mike/Jimmy and Jimmy/Lalo where he's helpless uwu baby. But do anything of him in actual character and I'm game. 5: first headcanon that pops into my head: when he gets out, he goes through quite a few therapists that he doesn't gel with. but he sticks with an older woman who chuckles at his jokes but also doesn't let him get distracted with them. 6: favorite line from this character: the two versions of "tell me what to do" have taken up a portion in my brain, so I'm gonna have to give up and go with those. 7: one way in which I relate to this character: "please person who is horrible to me and tries to isolate me from actual love, please love me" 8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: baby you had multiple opportunities to walk away, a lot of the gilded hell you're in when it comes to BrBa time is your own making. 9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? duh.

[prqltothesql]

I know I posted about this a year or so ago. But it pops up all the time.

The PTSD of experiencing death first hand gets to me so much.

When my uncle died in 2003, I was a room away and heard my Aunt scream and cry. He had cancer and was in the spare room they had in a very small one-story house. They went to move him and he couldn't do it and he died.

In 2006, I went to visit my mom who had cancer. Two weeks before, I had left something at her house and was sent to go pick it up. Her husband Mike told me "When it happens, you need to be here." When me and my sister were dropped off for visitation, he told me, "She is not good." A few minutes later, she stumbled out of the bedroom and sat on the couch, in severe pain and borderline unresponsive. We sat there with her for a few minutes and then I went to my room with my cousin to distract him. A few minutes later, Mike screams, "She's gone!" from the living room and me and my cousin just stopped and stared at each other. I instantly started re-packing all the stuff I'd unpacked just a few minutes before. Luckily, from the hallway to the kitchen to the back door of the house, my sister's room was connected and I was able to go through there to leave without seeing my mom's dead body.

In 2019, I had to take my dog Ty to the vet. He was in severe pain and needed to be put down, my dad was a hysterical mess because that was his dog. So the combination of having to leave work early to come home and get him, and then drive him to the vet and take him in and have him put down, and then sitting in the room as they injected him and seeing the nurse check his pulse and sadly nod.

In 2022, I came downstairs to see my dad I'm pretty sure laying dead on the floor. He'd had a heart attack and my sister sat with him and waited too long to come get me. His eyes were sunken, his tongue was blue. I called 911 and they came rather quickly. Cops showed up, firefighters and paramedics were there but there was nothing they could do to get his pulse back. I took my sister out to the back room to be out of the way. I still remember the chief guy pulling me aside and telling me there was nothing they could do, they tried everything, they couldn't get his heart started again and he had passed away. I remember calling the funeral home to arrange pickup. I remember them telling me that they'd prepped him and we could say goodbye if we wanted. He was laying there on the gurney, his hands covered as I held his hands and sobbed, apologizing over and over. I remember calling my friends out back as I paced on the patio, I remember calling my therapist and telling her. I remember finally when everyone left a few hours later, and I was just alone with my sister, I showered, and then came upstairs and told her, "You understand our dad is dead right, and he's never coming back. Everything in our life is different now."

Later that year, I had to take my dog Angel to get put down and it was the same thing. I remember vividly. And it was Christmas Eve. We took her in, we were both sobbing crying, so upset, I was incoherent talking to the vet arranging paperwork and stuff. And afterwards me and my sister went to the mall just to walk around and clear our heads cause both of us were so upset.

I have so much PTSD from this stuff. Particularly my dad and my dog Ty. The Angel thing felt like such a blur because it was Christmas Eve, it was first thing in the morning, Rachel was sad but not hysterical, we went somewhere to clear our heads right after, and then two days later I went to GMU for a camp. But being there for an animal being put down for the first time, and then my best friend for 31 years dying and I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. It's crushing. And these memories constantly force their way into my head and I don't know what to do about it and how to get it to stop.

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1987 Tonight’s New Year’s Eve. Another year has gone by.

I woke up early and straightened up a bit. I changed the pig’s cage. They’ll need more food and sawdust today. I think I’ll buy them cedarwood. It lasts longer and smells good. I’ll be gone 10 days so it has to last. Crystal will feed them and give them water while I’m gone.

Speaking of Crystal, she is one hell of a good roommate. I only wish she was a little neater.

Kevin is supposed to drive Crystal and I down to Salem to see Tammy, but Crystal never came home last night. She’s probably with her abusive boyfriend, Mike.

We have a lot of fun together, Crystal and me. Last night she said, “I feel like I’ve known you for years.” I feel that way too. I just hope to hell she shows up to go to Tammy’s. I have a feeling she’ll forget. Maybe I’ll just go with Kevin, although I really want Crystal to go, too.

I wonder if 1988 will be my lucky year. I know, however, that this is the year I am going to hear out of both ears.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1987 Crystal has finally moved in. She just finished unpacking. We met at Dunkin’ Donuts and got to discussing my wanting a roommate.

Now she’s singing. Personally, I think Crystal has just about the worse voice I’ve ever heard.

I spoke to Jenny today. It’s her 23rd birthday. She told me of all the gifts she got from her family and friends.

I tried to get a hold of Mary and there was no answer. She’s just as hard to get a hold of as Emily is.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1987 At about 3:00, I went and did my laundry at the X, then came home at 6:00 and called Dad. He took me out to dinner at 7:00, then when he brought me home he came up here for about half an hour or so. I played Love Me Tender on the keyboard for him and made him coffee.

He weighed himself on my scale and said that it was definitely accurate and that there was no way I could possibly weigh 121 pounds. Then when I stepped on it, it said I was 111.

The people here are so noisy. I think I hear a garbage disposal running now.

Took a bath tonight, never straightening my hair. It looks ridiculous. Very curly.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1987 I'm currently waiting to see the therapist. My dad picked me up earlier today to exchange some pants I received as a Hanukkah gift at the mall. I've noticed my weight has increased and I now weigh 121 pounds. Last night, I had a great time at Tammy's. She, Bill, and their daughters gifted me a sleep shirt for my upcoming Florida trip. Additionally, my parents gave me socks, underwear, a comfy sweatshirt dress, a purse, earrings, a watch, a bracelet, a miniskirt with a matching shirt, two pairs of pants, a coat, gloves, and a scarf.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1987 Looks like I'll be pulling another all-nighter. My body always seems to prefer sleeping during the day instead of at night. Fran and Kevin came over earlier, and we watched a movie that was just average. Nothing too exciting. Tomorrow, I have plans to meet Jenny at Springfield Municipal Hospital where she works at 3:30. She's helping me with my grocery shopping, and I'll be giving her around 30 paperback books that I no longer want.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 13, 1987 Last night I fell asleep at sometime around 11:00. I woke up at 5:00 this morning. No noise woke me up. I just for some reason automatically woke up. Who knows why, but on weekdays when I have errands to do it seems I sleep all day, but on the weekend what do I do when there’s nothing to wake up for? Get up at 5am.

Hank from downstairs was up here twice today visiting. Once I asked him to come and look at the black and white TV. He says the transistors are gone.

Then he called up to me while I was dusting the bedroom from his bedroom asking me for aspirin.

Tomorrow or Monday I must get my Hanukkah cards and get my Christmas cards ready to go out in the mail. I also must mail Jo’s b-day card in a few days, too.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1987 Last night I didn’t get to sleep until about 6am. Today I slept till 1pm, got up, put up with the nervous bastard for a while then went to therapy. Next week is my last week with Trisha.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1987 I am currently at Dunkin Donuts and have had two cups of coffee, but nothing to eat. I have successfully lost three pounds. However, I have not consumed any food today, and I plan to continue this trend for the next three to five days.

On Tuesday at 4 pm, my parents and I will be heading to Tammy's for a Hanukkah gathering. I hope the experience will be more enjoyable than Thanksgiving, as I sometimes find my family's behavior to be frustrating.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1987 I had quite a long day today. I have been up since 5:15 this morning as the people upstairs on the 3rd floor were doing the 50-yard dash. I woke up to their footsteps.

At about 8:45 I left for the bus to go to the social security office. I also applied for food stamps.

At the federal building, I saw 3 deaf women signing and went up to join them. I also met a woman from Trinidad who has a deaf daughter. She wants me to teach her sign language. I gave her my number and she says she’ll call me.

As of right now, I am at Jenny’s keeping her company while she cuts carpet.

Jenny gave me a little scatter rug. She has some other carpet for me but she has to find out how much it costs before she sells it to me. I’d love some carpet for my bedroom and the hallway. I hope I can afford it though as I only get $474.49 a month between my two checks (Social Security and SSI). It’s so hard to afford to buy anything for myself other than just pay my rent and the bills because I get so little.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1987 Jenny and Jim were over tonight for a little while. Jenny got me this candle and potpourri that smells really nice.

Earlier today I went to the mall to do some Chanukah shopping. I got Dad Wynonna and Naomi’s tape, mittens for Rebecca, a coloring book for Lisa, a cosmetic organizer for Jenny, and placemats for Tammy and Bill’s table, and last, a bracelet for Kevin. I still need to get something for me and Emily. In case I haven’t already said so, Tammy is my older sister, but no one in the family has been in touch with our older brother, Larry. Bill is Tammy’s husband whom I never really cared for. Lisa is her daughter which she had with some Mexican guy when she lived in Texas. She currently lives in Connecticut. Bill and Tammy had Becky together and both are lousy parents.

Later…

I’ll probably be up most of the night since I slept so late this morning, but I have to get up early tomorrow so I can go to STCC and the federal building. I also have to have some blood work done tomorrow. Right now I am making some fish cakes but after they’re done and I eat I’m going to go over that form for financial aid.

On January 2nd I’ll be flying down to Florida to visit my folks.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1987 It’s been a depressing birthday so far. I am now waiting for Mom and Dad to come pick me up for dinner. Jenny and Emily, an old friend, totally forgot it was my birthday today. Kevin told me over the phone he couldn’t afford to get me anything. I did, however, get a card from Tammy who I’m sure won’t even call me. I also got a card from Jo. Jo’s an old lady back at the old apartment complex I used to live at. Her husband’s crazy but that’s because he has Alzheimer’s disease.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1987 I am now at the doctor’s waiting to be seen. The nurse just weighed me at 118½ pounds.

Nellie paid me $20 today and was on her way over to visit when I was on my way out the door.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1987 I am now at Mom and Dad’s doing my laundry. As usual, Mom is in her bitchy mood.

Kevin is definitely going to get his ass kicked the next time I see him seeing that he threatened me this morning. He should definitely know better by now, but seeing that he doesn’t, maybe I’ll have to hurt him.

I hope to be going to STCC for part-time classes in the daytime starting in January. Also the interpreter training class at night. I’d still like to tutor sign and try doing calligraphy on the side to make extra money.

I hope I see Mary very soon. I want the clothes back she borrowed. If she doesn’t have them she’s dead, just like Nellie if I don’t get paid tomorrow.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1987 Well, today I slept very late again as usual. I was going to do my laundry tonight at 6:00 but Jenny called me at 5:00 and came over at 5:30 to get me and brought me to her new house. I helped her clean her bedroom floor.

I just went across the street to get Jenny and me some coffee.

Jenny’s new house, although it is a rental, is quite nice. It’s got 6 rooms and her bedroom is very big. It has marble floors and a sliding glass door with a porch. Lots of closets everywhere.

Right now she’s painting. She painted the walls purple and the woodwork white. So far she’s pissed because Warren, the guy she’s renting it with, hasn’t done anything yet as far as cleaning. I said, “That’s a male for you.” Males are slobs and hate to clean. They wouldn’t clean unless their lives depended on it but probably not even then. Males suck!

Yesterday I went to see Tammy. She gave me a lot of food and some money. Tomorrow Nellie is going to pay me or she has a broken neck.

I am listening to Jenny’s music. That is our only difference. She hates my music and I think her heavy metal sucks. The only thing we agree on is The Cars.

Last Friday was a bad day in therapy as Trisha came out and told me she was leaving. I balled my eyes out crying. She looked sad, too. She’s got a new job in Connecticut closer to her house where she’ll be working with teenagers. I’ll really miss her and I’m going to hate to have to start my whole life story over again with a new therapist. Don’t forget I’ve been seeing Trisha for a year and a half.

Mom and Dad called yesterday while I was in the tub. They’re coming home Wednesday to return to work. I can’t wait. I missed them.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1987 I just finished my last cigarette. I want to quit. Maybe tomorrow morning I won’t wheeze so badly because I’ve only had one since about 8:15.

Tomorrow I must go to State St. for that volunteer interview for signing. That’s at 10:30.

Also tomorrow, Trisha rescheduled me for 1:00.

I hope I get some extra money soon so I can do Chanukah and Christmas shopping. I want to buy my own cards and do them in calligraphy.

I also want to buy a rod for the curtains I want to put up over the bars in the bathroom window.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1987 I still have the flu and probably will for a few more days. Yesterday all I did was go apply for food stamps and then I felt sicker than hell. It seems I go crazy from sitting in here but then when I go out it creeps up on me.

I am still wide awake with side effects from my medication. I’m gonna tell the doctor that either she changes the medication or I don’t take it at all.

Later…

The bald eagle is here now and he helped me put up the hammock that Mary gave me.

I didn’t get to sleep till 5:00 this morning or possibly later. I got up at 9:00 for an hour, then fell back asleep at 10:00 and woke up at noon when Tammy called telling me about her nutty mother-in-law. This woman really sounds like a real psycho.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1987 I did not go to sleep till 4:30 this morning and one hour later I woke at 5:30. I woke up nauseous then another hour later I woke up at 6:30 and puked. I guess I got the flu. I am going from hot to cold constantly.

I am now at Dunkin Donuts debating on whether or not to do my laundry. I really feel sick but I need to get the hell out.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1987 I am now waiting for Shannon to call me. I hope she has some good news for me. I guess we are going to work out, too.

I hope I’ll have good news myself for Mom and Dad the next time they call.

Later…

Shannon and her sister Doreen just left. We had a really nice visit till the fucking male bastard walked in and gave his usual story of Hartford. When I told them about Kevin’s nervous disorder they laughed royally.

The prick male downstairs was in a huge fight with Mattie. I felt like going down and giving him a piece of my mind.

I don’t know if Shannon’s gonna move in. I hope so, though. She’d be a great roommate.

Tomorrow I’ve got to go to court for the stupid little baby pigs and watch them fall flat on their asses. Males! 90% of my problems in life are males. I gotta go call Mary and remind her. She better go with me tomorrow.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1987 I am at Friendly’s now. Kevin started off in his usual fucked up nervous mood, shaking and getting all argumentative. He totally trembles with nerves every other time I see him! I’ve never seen anything like it. Does this have to do with the concussion he was hospitalized with? You can really see the nervousness in his hands with the way his fingers curl and uncurl.

Soon, I’m going to Food Mart and maybe Brightwood in Longmeadow. I need to get guinea pig food, cedar chips and a few groceries.

Later…

Well, the fucking male just ran out of gas again for the 4th time. God, I’m sick of his shit! I wish they’d commit him to a fucking loony bin. He’s a sicko! I hope the little nervous bastard eats shit and dies. People wonder why I’m gay? Then again, even if all guys were sweethearts, I’m attracted to women. Period.

I called Tammy, my sister who lives in CT, thinking tomorrow was court when it’s really Thursday. I wonder if she’ll drive up and go with me? She did ask for my lawyer’s name and number, though. I guess she feels better being there and that I’ll say the wrong thing if she’s not. If she doesn’t go I’ll have Mary go, but not the little nervous bastard.

I’m still here in Friendly’s drinking coffee till the little nervous bastard gets back from his favorite pastime - running to get gas. The fucking prick! Maybe he’ll fall and break a leg. Someday someone’s gonna do it for him if it isn’t me. I’m so pissed off now. That little bastard’s lucky I didn’t fuck him up.

I need to change the pig’s cage quite badly and vacuum.

Later…

Shannon came over and I think maybe she’ll be my lucky break. I hope so. I sang for her and played my instruments and she said, “What are you doing sitting around here?”

She says she knows some people and that she’s going to talk to some people about my singing. She says she knows some musicians and knows a girl who was talking about being an agent. She also says I may be her lucky break with the signing. She knows a few girls who need to be tutored. She and her sister are going to post that I’d like to teach signing on the bulletins at STCC.

We are going to be going to work out together from now on. She goes in this direction. That would be great. That way I don’t have to go with the little nervous bastard and take the chance of either getting killed by his erratic driving or him running out of gas. She is to be calling me at around 2:00 or 2:30 tomorrow afternoon. I hope she has some good news. Around 4pm we’ll be going to work out.

Too bad she can’t move in here. She’d be the perfect roommate, but I guess she wants her own apartment.

I called the book club and they said I have some books coming from the Mystery Guild. The other two clubs show nothing.

Later…

Just got through speaking with Mary, Doug and Kevin. Doug said he’d never want to be in the same room with me for physical fear of me cutting his cock off, haha. Good for him.

Can’t wait till I hear from Shannon and to get my books.

Tomorrow morning I’d like to go to the bank and then go to welfare and see if I qualify for food stamps. They’d be nice to have.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1987 I am kind of in a bummed-out mood now. I feel a little tired and dizzy. I guess maybe it’s time to get my eyes checked. I know I definitely don’t want to wear glasses.

I think right now I’m going to take a bath and maybe listen to some music. I’m going to also watch the conclusion of that movie I said I saw last night.

Now for my good news. That Shannon C that I met at the gym called to tell me she knew 3 girls from STCC who are currently taking sign language classes and are very confused and need to be tutored. So I think I’ll be tutoring them here at home. Great! Extra money. I miss using my signing, too.

Shannon also said she wants to move out into her own apartment so I gave her Larry’s number. I wonder who will get my apartment and Nancy’s?

Tomorrow night at about 6:00 Shannon will be dropping by for a visit.

Tomorrow I hope Kevin gets his goddamn car fixed. I need to go grocery shopping and buy guinea pig food, and I’d love to skip the buses.

Later…

I just finished watching the movie. That was a hell of a good movie.

Jenny called today. She told me about her job as a nurse’s aide.

The day after tomorrow I must appear in court. I’ve been charged with making prank phone calls. I sure hope they dismiss it, but fat chance! Maybe I just won’t go.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1987 Today I woke up kind of bored so I called Mary and spent the day at her house. Her brother’s a real bastard, and the nervous bastard (Kevin) ran out of gas today at Mary’s. I’m not staying at Mary’s for the night because John and her bastard brother Doug are going to be there tonight. I’ll just go home and clean the apartment. And God knows it sure does need it, too. I’d like to catch up on my reading tonight and maybe study some Spanish. I’ve missed all my weekend shows, though.

Later…

I am home now and have cleaned up. It didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I remember how picky and perfectly neat I used to be and I wish I could be that way again.

Right now I am watching a movie about these millionaires who committed murder. I think it’s over in a few minutes. After the movie, I must take a bath, wash my hair, shave and brush my teeth. I may read later, too.

I wish to hell I didn’t have this driving phobia I’ve got and that I had my own car or could just move to Florida because I really can’t stand Kevin. It’s a bitch when the one you need around to use for transportation is a total asshole. No luck, I know, as far as him moving. Well, maybe his car will break down or get pulled from him with that rejection sticker he’s had since April and I won’t give in to my temptation to call for a ride.

I was expecting Ma to call tonight but I guess not. She did say this weekend, though. Maybe she’s busy.

Later…

Mary’s bastard brother tried to hit on me on the phone tonight. He said, “I have a heart in me and I know you have a heart too, and I know I can change your mind about men and make you happy.”

No male is gonna “change my mind.” I want a woman. It’s what I’m attracted to.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1987 Yesterday when I was out, Mom called and Kevin said a Karen W was to call me after noon which is anytime now to tell me what they have to offer. For some strange reason, I doubt this will be heaven. I think she’s trying to get me in some supervised halfway house or something. The last thing in the world I’m going to do is be a kid again on a point system with rules and restrictions where there’s no way out. I sure hope there are no nuts in this place. Or males. If they say you can’t smoke in certain areas or eat at certain times or want to know wherever you go, then I’ll know it’s Valleyhead all over again, a private “school” I attended from ages 16-18 that was total hell. I will not give up any of my freedom. If my parents have me walk into a trap again then I’ll know I’m still not the perfect daughter they’re looking for yet. Or maybe I’ll just give in and let myself be fucked over yet again.

Yesterday I told Kevin to stay in my apartment while I took the car out by myself. I did fine except for the fact that I left the lights on and needed jumper cables. So a guy in the parking lot gave me a jump and sent me on my merry way.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1987 I haven’t written since Wednesday night when I slept over at Mary’s place. I am upset with her for not returning the $5 I lent her for dinner as she promised and have been broke all weekend. My checks were supposed to come yesterday, and they didn’t as usual, so I am going to talk to them tomorrow. They think they’re missing a digit in my account number, so the computer is rejecting it and the money’s delayed a day.

I still have to go to court. I didn’t because I have been too sick. I have a bad cold and now I know why last Thursday they said I had a high white blood cell count. I literally forced myself to work out today at about 4 PM and now I am sicker than a dog, but I needed to get the hell away. When I sit at home all day, I get very depressed. I will work out tomorrow, too.

Thursday, I was very depressed and was looking so forward to therapy, but Trisha was out sick. Debbie at the desk said she tried to call me, but I wasn’t home.

I invited Fran P, my old neighbor who used to live next to Kevin, over earlier but he was expecting company, so he’ll come over next weekend. I may invite Kevin over later but I’m a little sick of his company and I really can’t wait till I have my own car (if I can get over my driving phobia). No, I’m not intimate with either Kevin or Fran.

Later…

I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep well tonight since I slept late this morning. Oh well. I’ll probably read all night or write.

Tomorrow I’m going to go pay my rent and I want to call the bank and also go down there and see if they can figure out my checkbook. I fucked it up again with my shitty math.

I also have to pay Jean for those two singing lessons I took and I’m going to once again force myself to go work out. I need to get out and get the exercise, but I’ll probably feel worse after with this damn cold.

Tomorrow night mom’s going to be calling me to tell me about someplace in Florida she thinks I’d like living at. I hope it’s just what I need and want. She also says she thinks she can fly me down sooner than January.

I wonder how my birthday will go this year. It seems Dec. 3rd the day before my birthday always brings me good luck. In ‘85 I moved out on my own. In ‘86 I got my license. What will happen this year?

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1987 I got up today at 8 AM, made coffee, and listened to music. At 9 AM I was fully dressed nicely and then Kevin and I went to Friendly’s for breakfast. We are now going to the Fairfield Mall in Chicopee so he can do some inventory, part of his job.

I just got back from buying new kitchen curtains from Bradlee’s. Surprisingly enough I ran into Mattie I, who lives next door to me, working as a cashier. She helped me as far as measurements. Thank God for her as I would’ve gotten the wrong size. Kevin is still in there counting ties and belts.

When I get home I’m going to hang up my new curtains, then eat, listen to music and lay down till my 3:30 appointment. I have asked Kevin if he will go with me. He said yes, but Dr. H, my shrink, may say no. I doubt she’ll say no, though.

I am at Mary C’s for the night. She’s another old neighbor/friend. We are watching Halloween.

I see Trisha, my therapist, at 2pm tomorrow, then after that, I have to go to the post office for a certified letter and stamps. After that, I need to go to court to drop charges since Nellie paid me for the radio/cassette player her boyfriend stole from my kitchen. She also gave me $40 earlier this evening.

I hope that the medication for my side effects helps and that I stay feeling good that my bad times get less and less and that I’ll always be able to cope.

I also hope tomorrow I start receiving some of the books I ordered. According to Nellie, she hasn’t received hers yet and I would think she’d receive hers before I got mine, as she is a new member.

I think I’m gonna hit the sack soon. The only bad thing about staying here at Mary’s is that it’s freezing in here and this place is so filthy and smelly it drives me nuts.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1987 Springfield, MA My Apartment on Oswego Street…

NOTE: I wrote journals by hand from 10/27/1987 till 6/1/98 when I went all-digital. I have typed up all the handwritten journals, which I no longer have today.

Jenny C, whom I’ve known since 4th grade, came over at about 9:30. I’m 21, she’s 22. I was very tired when I woke up and I still am. The medication I got last night really wipes me out. It’s funny how some medications just don’t agree with me. She made us coffee and some toast. Then after that, she took a shower and I listened to music and then laid down for a while. When I got up I went to the mall in Enfield with Jenny and bought this journal. She wants me to go work out but I am just too tired. So, here I am in this mall just wishing I had money to shop with. I could really go for some new clothes.

When I came home I fell asleep till the mailman woke me up with a certified letter from the bank. Nellie R, who lives two doors away, owes me a total of $175 for having me cash those checks she stole that I didn’t know were stolen. She’ll be paying me $40 every 15 days. It won’t be for almost 3 months till I’m reimbursed.

I am going to tell the doctor that I want off this medication and I’m sure she’ll suggest something else even though I seem to have side effects from everything I take.

I am now at Friendly’s with Kevin T, an old neighbor/friend.

Instead of lying down I took a bath, washed my hair and put it in a ponytail with my new pink ribbon. I am wearing my sweatshirt dress which I just found the other day hiding way in the back of my closet.

Kevin and I are now talking about his kids and just bullshitting about odds and ends. He’s divorced, 45 years old, and his ex is down in CT. He hasn’t seen her or his two boys in quite a while.

I am home now and Kevin and I are watching TV as I sip coffee and write. Before, I was in the process of doing a major clean-up. I finished vacuuming and after my coffee, I must finish cleaning the bathroom and then dust and mop. Housecleaning is very tedious and boring but if I put it off another day it’ll never get done.

Kevin is going to go with me tomorrow to the doctor's. I hope all goes well.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1987 Read First! I'm moving this to the front of my journal even though it's actually 2023 that I write this.

Welcome to my decades of journaling! While I've always emphasized that I primarily write for my own personal expression, I do hope that my words may offer help or inspiration to anyone who finds them valuable. Throughout the years, my journaling has chronicled a diverse range of experiences, including moments of joy, sorrow, adventure, and fear.

However, it's important to acknowledge that some of my writings are controversial and, yes, have been perceived as hateful and racist by some. I want to be upfront about this so there are no surprises. If such content is not in alignment with your preferences, I encourage you to feel free to leave. Nobody is obligated to read my writings, and if certain aspects trouble you, please don’t torture yourself by reading.

Many years ago, I was victimized by individuals of different racial backgrounds who used their connections to law enforcement to target me in the name of revenge. This unfortunate experience, understandably, led me to express sentiments that some might consider racist. Much like how a woman who has suffered abuse may develop distrust or prejudice against men, my writings during that time were driven more by their behavior than by race or color. At times, I may have used racially charged language as a form of venting and provocation, knowing that it would upset them. But really, it was never about race or color. It was about them. But like any human being, I occasionally said and wrote things in the heat of the moment that some may find offensive. I firmly believe that while we can't make people like or love us, we certainly can make people harbor animosity if we mistreat them.

I also acknowledge that the younger, more naive me may stated things as facts that I honestly believed at the time were facts, yet may not have been. Not just regarding the welfare bums but things in general.

During this period, I shared excerpts from my journal with the individuals involved, which they later termed as stalking, despite the fact that I was only documenting information as advised by the police for potential legal recourse in the future. Nonetheless, I sent them copies as a way of venting when we moved (they lived next to us). Well, instead of doing the grown-up thing by not reading what they didn't like, they used it against me and I was manipulated into pleading guilty for something I didn't know I was pleading guilty for. I thought I was being charged with sending the journals but instead, it was supposedly a threatening letter. I did send a less-than-kind letter to these sickos but that was many years prior which led me to believe that someone else they pissed off sent the letter and they assumed it was me. Either that or their cop friend wrote it up and thrust it into my hands during interrogation to get my fingerprints on it when showing me “evidence” that was clearly falsified.

The point is that I lost half a year of freedom and thousands of dollars due to these people's vindictiveness when all I did was express myself. It may not have been in the way they agreed with and wanted to hear but they harassed me for years and I reacted. It was that simple. I make no apologies for anything I ever said to these people be it with my voice or in print.

And yes, I sometimes, in a fit of anger, said something to the effect of wanting to strangle, throttle, beat, kick, slap, or punch various people here and there. Like one sometimes mutters these things under their breath when pissed at someone, I vented in print. However, none of these threats, if you could even call them threats, are meant to be taken literally. It's easy to say we'll do this, this, and that to someone who's crossed us but unless someone's literally trying to harm me, my husband, pets, or property, I'm as harmless as a butterfly. This is a journal. Not a manifesto.

Whether it's common or not, I've had moments in life where I contemplated suicide or at least had thoughts of it, and that too has been expressed in these journals at times and is also not meant to be taken seriously in any way.

My journal is free to anyone who wants to read it but is not open to debate. In other words, I'm not going to argue about some stupid thing I may have written 20 years ago or something I shouldn't have said or done 30 years ago. We all make mistakes, and it's part of my life story.

I also wish to address the unkind things I said about my husband, Tom, in the 90s when we were contemplating having a child. In retrospect, we are glad that we never had children, as it would have placed a tremendous burden on both of us, involving substantial expenses and considerable work while limiting our freedom. My perspective at the time, based on my limited knowledge, was that Tom might have been intentionally avoiding climaxing during our intimate moments to prevent pregnancy. Subsequently, I came to understand that he might have been dealing with low testosterone, but he felt too embarrassed and shy to admit it or seek help.

In hindsight, I'm glad we didn't have children but wish I hadn’t gone through the depression and frustration I experienced during our attempts at starting a family. My earlier belief that medication was the answer has also changed, as I now realize the complexities and potential side effects of hormonal treatments.

Lastly, I want to clear up the thing about God and “Robin.” I was a very emotional person in my younger days and things were a much bigger deal to me than they ever would be today if I was in similar situations. I don't know if there is a God or not but as you'll read, I spent many years rambling about how God hated me and insisted he was controlling and cursing me and my life, and hey, maybe he or something else was at times. I don't know for sure but I do feel a little embarrassed when I read back on those times, LOL, even though we all do and say silly things at times. I just wanted to believe so badly that there really was a God that would listen to me and that cared and that would grant me any reasonable rational prayer I made. But most of my prayers have gone unanswered and I don't know if it’s by design or happenstance. I don't think any of us can really ever know.

Robin was an entity I believed - or at least wanted to believe - was supposedly like a guardian angel, on my side, there to help, to inspire and encourage me, blah blah blah. I don't think I can go so far as to say that Robin was a figment of my imagination and wishful thinking but I don't know that I really ever had this protective spirit hovering over me, especially since quite often things didn't go my way.

I never use real last names unless it's someone famous or infamous. However, I realize that some people may happen to actually have some of the names I've randomly drawn. If this bothers you in any way, don't hesitate to reach out to me (nicely) and let me know. Any threats or ultimatums will be completely ignored.

In summary, my journal spans a wide range of experiences, emotions, and beliefs, and I offer this context to better understand the evolution of my thoughts and feelings over the years as well as what life was like for future generations that may read my life story.

[dopaminergicaddictions]

3/12/24

11:13 p.m Updated

So I made it to my testosterone shot thankfully, as yesterday I was 10 minutes late to my doctor appt and they made me reschedule. If I lose my primary care I'm going to have so many issues between my insomnia script and my biweekly testosterone shot. I'm really thankful I got there with 5 minutes to spare.

I also lost track of time yesterday bc I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off and I was 20 minutes late to my appt with Mike... he texted me and offered me 6:30 after I didn't show up for 6. I showed up at 6:27 and he didn't show up... I waited 27 minutes... either way today I made my obligations. I met with Mike too for the first time in like a month. After yesterday him leaving me hanging and pretending not to get my texts. I prob shouldn't see him but what am I supposed to do? Danielle was all about countertransference.... and finding a therapist as a transguy is tough. I write it in my emails and I can send 10 and only one person responds to me so whatever, it is what it is.

I called Eye Doctors around town and 2 out of 3 said they measure each eye individually. The other said both at the sametime. I called my eye doctor, I lied and said I got their script from an online eye wear place and I got headaches... I said it could either be the script or that the glasses were made incorrectly. Luckily my insurnace will cover a retest within 30 days of getting your script. I'm scheduled for the 19th and I will make sure they do both eyes separately before I take my ray bans off hold. And I'll update the script with the accurate test results. For now I'll just wear my distance glasses. I'm going to keep them bc of the shape and style for gaming and driving... if I got them updated as progressives they would be 304$ cause they won't let you pick clear lenses in this frame, you got to pick transitions and the most expensive one... it's ridiculous cause I love these frames... so my ray bans will be progressive pending my new test on Tuesday....

I worked on a few things I've been putting off, I called my capture card place and gamestop. The capture card place will replace it refurbished but only give me a month warranty as I am officially out of warranty but I called in December and it saved my ass. I called game stop and my warranty for the same capture card ended March 9th. Psychosis and my circadian rhythm make accomplishing things very difficult.... The manager at gamestop sent an email to try to remedy the situation as I went in store in December and tried to replace it or get a refund. I have a 2 year warranty that just expired. I explained that I have psychosis and I've been having issues getting stuff done. He is going to try to replace it or give me my 79$ back.. it would be more ideal... as a refurbished with a month warranty isn't ideal... but I have one of two options. I have to wait until Monday to hear back from Gamestop before I make the decision to either send it back to EVGA or accept whatever gamestop will give me.

I had months to call and I couldn't cause I'm always overwhelmed and stressed because I have to simulate my auditory cortex with pod casts or mindless TV like The Simpsons with heavy dialogue just to not hear the voice. I used to work in silence... like to focus I would sit in complete silence and do my stuff. Now I must always have constant chatter on in the background to avoid hearing the voice... hearing how repetitive it is drives me crazy. However listening to mindless chatter in the background even as I write this drives me crazy cause I can't focus the way I want to.

Not to mention I have constant doctor appts and a fucked circadian rhythm. I generally have 1 hours and 30 minutes a day with the time I wake up... and if a doctors appt is during that time which i have therapy 3 days a week. It gives me like 20 minutes to call a place.

I really want to kill myself after reading about recovery rates. I'm considered in remission... "Remission" is defined as symptomatic but functioning in a social/occupational/taking care of yourself type of way. Basically it's someone who hallucinates, but is firmly gripped in reality. You can't be delusional... and you have to be able to take care of yourself, shower, eat, cook, shop, drive, make appts, have fulfilling social relationships, have a job etc...

I don't have a job and likely never will. If I could stop having ocd I'd work with kids. I'd be able to do it with the voice. I can't with my ocd and psychosis. Either way I am in remission as I meet all criteria.

Remission is depressing and when you look at graphs, a lot of people are in Remission...

Recovery is a different beast.. it's having no symptoms. When you look at these charts, my percentage of actually not hallucinating one day is about 24% in 6 months, 26% in 12 months, 39% in 24 months. It doesn't seem promising.

I have "fulfilling" relationships. It's funny. When you have friends and you're single, you feel more alone. Hanging out with Charlotte Saturday, Marcy after Charlotte left (cause I didn't get a real birthday party), hanging out with John Monday over mic playing FC4 was not fulfilling. I hallucinated much less but I felt alone. They all have partners. I'm lacking companionship. I'm lacking someone to hug, hold hands with, share all my most intimate secrets with, someone to trust to have always be there for me.

I've been in support groups for voice hearers and everyone is more crazy than me. Everyone has schizophrenia and schizoaffective, etc. They see more, hear more and are all on antipsychotics.. most have tardive dsykinesia. No one is like me. I'm the odd one out who has to be sensitive about antipsychotics bc everyone is on them. Everyone is eccentric. I feel like I don't belong.

I feel like I don't belong anywhere. I feel like my chance to recover could take anywhere from 3 years to 10 years and I may never not hallucinate.... it may be that I am in remission for the rest of my life... I will never take antipsychotics I don't want negative symptoms, movement disorders, seizures, and I don't want to have 30% of my life shortened....

So here I stand, in remission. Wondering if full recovery is possible when I feel so fucking unfulfilled with everything I have in my life. No one likes my face enough on these dating apps to even get to know me..

As i talked to John. Marcy. Charlotte I felt this hollowing aloneness. I'm not like you. You have fulfillment. You don't have secrets that will make sure no one ever loves you or stays. You're not like me.

Until I find a partner I'm going to feel this way. Which I likely won't.

Until I actually recover I will never feel at peace. If Kristen keeps her license I'm actually going to commit suicide.

If Kristen does lose her license if my life doesn't get more fulfilling I'm going to kill myself.

I don't think there is any point in fighting. Yet I keep doing it and idk why.

All I know is I have to report Kristen before I end my life. She doesn't get to take mine without at least having a red mark on her perfect record.

Antipsychotics aren't even considered on this chart cause 99.99% take them... and I won't. But yea it's pretty disappointing. I'm depressed and I don't see much of a point in trying. I got to at least submit my paperwork before I do it.

I don't believe in soulmates. I don't believe there is someone out there for me. I don't believe I'll be anything or even have a somewhat satisfying relationship with anyone.

Once I get news of kristen license I'm ending my life. Especially if she gets to keep it. But idk how many more disappointing months I can live like this. I've talked to 2 people who had thc induced psychosis who didn't take antipsychotics they heard a voice the whole time and recovered within 1 year and 6 months that's all I got for research from people like me.

[winderlylandchime]

2/2 ‘so now that he won the bet, he’s gonna fuck Baywatch and then what? Business as usual?’ It just showed that Justin was bailed out by Jen and Ben ‘fucking Ben. You had one fucking job! Imagine if itd be Jen and Brian. I love Jen so much and i need her to go visit Brian and talk shit about literally anyone or anything.’ The camera is now on Lindsay venting and he goes ‘i bet my kidney, its Brian that she’s using as her therapist. HA I FUCKING KNEW IT (brian hits his head) when i asked for someone to knock sense into him this wasnt what i meant but ill take it…i can’t believe i agree with Lindsay about the bet. *pauses tv and jumps up* YOURE GONNA THINK IM CRAZY BUT! Remember how when Brian was robbed, she told him he lost Justin and wrote down his name next to his valuables? And now she once again told him he lost something far more valuable: JUSTIN! That’s a fucking parallel, right? Im right! Im a genius! Now come on Lindsay, force him to get back with Blondie’ BTW all of Mel and Lindsay’s in house separated scenes he just groans at and watches with a side eye. And we are at the Brandon/Brian scene *starts laughing* ‘Baywatch, literally nobody wants you. You’re the wrong Blondie. I can’t believe Brian kept the bike after the race…and just let it stay at the loft. Imagine it’s his little “i did that” souvenir. Wait thats not the point of this, the point is, i hate this bet, i hate mr baywatch and this is all bullshit. Brian, baby, please win back Justin. All you guys gotta do is just talk and get on the same page…maybe some new rules since someoneeeee kept breaking them’ and Brian is about to kick out brandon ‘baywatch here sure thinks a lot about himself. (Brandon says brian’s years are numbered) fellas, you do know someone will always wanna fuck you, right? Maybe not you but Brian? For sure. Why isn’t he..OH HES KICKING HIM OUT! ITS NOT THE RIGHT BLONDIE! That’s the reason, right?’ ‘Okay so Drew and Emmett are back together, not what i asked for it but okay. Now give me what i fucking asked for’ scene cuts to ben and Mikey ‘OH FOR FUCKS SAKE! So hunter is just gone? They really wrote him out? Can they do the same for Mike?’ And we are now with Brian at the club ‘he sure does love that sleeveless shirt. He let Baywatch back in? (brian says the locked doors line) look at that fucking smile. He knows he’s always gonna be the best no matter who the fuck comes in and tries to dethrone him. It’ll never fucking happen’ After that he turned to me and went ‘please say this baywatch story is done. I hated it. But also in a small tiny way, i liked that i think it made Brian realize that he can’t escape growing old and lowkey accepted it in that last part. But please say its done. There’s only a few episodes left and we have more important stuff to do’

YOURE GONNA THINK IM CRAZY BUT! Remember how when Brian was robbed, she told him he lost Justin and wrote down his name next to his valuables? And now she once again told him he lost something far more valuable: JUSTIN! That’s a fucking parallel, right? Im right! Im a genius! NGL He is a genius. Great parallel. Which I've never noticed because I haven't watched S5 much at all.

I loveeeee him pointing out the bike as a souvenir. That's so not Brian and also entirely him at the same time. Like the part of himself that nobody gets to see.

Brandon is not the right Blondie. That's always been my theory of that scene.

CAN THEY WRITE OUT MIKEY I dieeeeeeee (your brother is going to feel sooooo guilty when Mikey gets injured)

Only a few episodes left and more important things to do. Like tear everyone's hearts apart.