#after a week of being treated like a karen for trying to not get sick/die in the case of the nut thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

you-did-well-moon · 4 years ago

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Werewolf!Yunho meeting his mate

Type: Werewolf au, angst, fluff

Pairing: Werewolf!Yunho x HumanFemale!reader

Word count: 2,994

A/n: I know this took a long time, trust me, it felt like a long time for me too. With how I view Yunho, I expected this to be happier than it is. I was having a hard time while writing this, and it reflected on the story. Anyways please enjoy and stay safe!

TW: toxic relationship, financial struggle, deadlines, stressed reader, emotional and verbal pain, toxic masculinity, if I missed anything please tell me.

You sat at the foot of your bed, still not made, staring at the mirror resting against your dull colored wall with lifeless blank eyes. Your posture slouched as you finished tying the laces of your running shoes huffing and letting your arms flop to the ground. Looking at the mirror, you tried smiling, but it was meak and disappeared as soon as it appeared.

You hadn’t smiled a real smile in so long, you forgot what it felt like. To smile. To be happy. The forgotten emotion was one you took for granted when it was easy to to bask in the warmth of it. Now it's just cold. Cold and empty.

You looked away from the mirror with a tight feeling coiling in the base of your chest not being able to bear looking at the stranger staring back at you any longer. Your gaze fell to the laptop, abandoned, due to frustration on your desk in the forgotten corner of the room. The thought of unfinished drafts and incomplete sentences shook violently in your mind. Disappointment in yourself pooling in your gut remembering your editor’s words.

“If you can’t give us at least a first draft by the end of the month, we’ll have to unfortunately let you and your novel go.”

How pathetic was it that you couldn’t even come up with a simple sentence. A description, dialogue, a metaphor. Nothing. Anytime you sat yourself in front of the desk, your mind went blank. The cursor blinking at the top of the page mocked you with the possibility of millions of words. Not one ever made its way onto the page.

The end of the month was in two weeks.

You felt tears of hopelessness stinging the corner of your eyes, and you abruptly stood up grabbing your wireless earbuds, phone, and bag. Making your way into the kitchen you grabbed the water in the fridge and placed it inside your back, nothing but a numb feeling alienating you from reality and its broken expectations. You heard the front door of your little apartment open and slam close shaking the thin walls of the building.

Your heart lurched as you winced immediately feeling like you were walking on eggshells. You were usually quick enough to leave before he got home from work, but you had been a tad bit late this one time. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly hoping for it to ground you through whatever vile words came from the one person you should have been able to trust with your ugliest feelings.

Trying to walk past your boyfriend, eyes trained on the chipped wood of the front door did no good when he kissed his teeth and huffed as soon as he caught sight of you.

“You’re never home when I get home from work, and the one time you are here, you run away not even saying hi to me? Not even a “hey honey how was work today” or maybe a “hi love what would you like for dinner?” and never a “you’ve worked hard would you like a massage?” It's the same shit every day. You treat me like nothing when I'm the reason you even have a roof over your head woman.”

You kept your mouth the whole time he rambled on trying to ignore the clear stench of beer being able to reach you even with all the distance separating you, and the feeling of disgust mixed with desperation pooling at the bottom of your gut at yourself for not speaking up for yourself. Opening your mouth instead of letting your voice be taken from you. A long time ago, you would always say you would rather die than be without your voice. In a sense, you had died a long time ago.

Around three months after you had started dating. That had been two years ago.

Your English degree really did you no good. Not having enough time to be an intern in college really screwed you over when no job would take a bright eyed girl with the same passion in her heart for writing as a Karen’s passion for business that wasn’t hers, but with no experience. Even if the apartment was under your name, you’d probably be kicked out in weeks time.

You hated all of it. Everything that made up both the small and big parts of your life, you hated it. You hated his greasy hair and beady eyes, the nasty rough stubble covering the lower part of his face as a result of his laziness. You hated the hesitation in leaving him because of the fear of the stack of bills piling up next to the fridge. You hated the editors who couldn’t find it in some part of their greedy selves to extend your deadline. You hated the empty drafts sitting in your laptop collecting what could only be dead dreams and despair. You hated the cold emptiness that was always present in the confines of your chest.

You recoiled at the way he said “woman” the same way someone would talk about a bug. Small and insignificant. Patronizing and confident in the worst way. You set your mouth in a tight line not even being able to look at him. Shifting your feet, you crossed your arms and looked up to the sky as if calling out to some unknown being to get you out of this pathetic corner you were trapped in. You cursed under your breath looking at the dying flowers on the coffee table with distaste as they wilted towards you mocking you.

“What was that?” His voice got rougher with the menacing edge of fanned masculinity and control. Something that could put you in a dangerous place in a very fast amount of time. You looked at him with dull eyes poking your cheek with your tongue as a cold feeling settled in your gut.

Your hands fell limply to your side and you chuckled humorlessly.

“Fuck you”.

Those two words were enough to set him off as you slowly blinked and looked at the ground feeling your heart falter when he abruptly got up. You tried to stand your ground, but the surge of confidence was quickly withering away with fear taking its place.

Ethan was bigger than you. Even if he wasn’t that much taller than you, there was a noticeable difference in his frame and yours. Weirdly enough, you didn’t regret your curse at him. The words still burned brilliantly on the tip of your tongue.

It was bittersweet of course. His nose flared, and his eyes bulged as he took large strides over to you knocking the coffee table over on his path to you.

“What did you say to me you-” his words were said through gritted teeth, brash and loud in the silent apartment.

Maybe he was bigger and stronger than you, but you were faster.

You inhaled sharply reacting fast as your hand reached behind you, turning the knob and slipping around it slamming the door close. Your bag bumped against your back while you bolted to the door with the word “stairs” painted in big bold letters across it. You were already at the door when you heard your apartment door open and Ethan angrily called your name. Threatening to break your laptop if you didn’t go back right this instant.

You couldn’t help but snicker at the weak attempt. It’s not like there were much but empty pages anyways.

A heavy feeling soon settled on your chest as you went down the stairs. Your apartment was on the 4th floor, and the stairs weren’t the most taken care of, but it’s not like you had much of a choice anyways. It seemed these days you were always wanting to run away from something.

Your heart felt a little lighter when the warm rays of sun met your skin and the fresh air outside flooded your senses. Your walk to the park went as usual. Cars racing to get where they needed to, people chattered about everything and nothing, and your thoughts wandered to a world far away from this one.

A world that wasn’t as dark as this one. At the same time your mind became your executioner, it became your safe place. The sick contrast making a nasty feeling flood your chest.

You arrived at the park with a small smile. The normalcy of the day bringing a little comfort to your still racing heart. Kids ran around, laughter ringing in the air around them as their parents watched on benches gossiping among themselves. People raced fast either by foot, bicycle, or skateboard, a visible sheen on their necks. You looked for the kind old man who always looked after your bag while you ran.

He owned a music store a few blocks away, and he always sat on the bench closest to the pond with his cute corgi and habitually feeding the ducks peas and lettuce leaves when finished with a certain chapter of his book. You walked up to him with a small smile as he looked up and took the sight of you in with fatherly worry.

“You look a little pale kid, everything alright?”

You did your best to liven up and gave your best customer service smile which the older man immediately saw through.

“Of course Mr.Jung. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m just a little tired from the editors. They’re on my back more than usual”, you laughed nervously as he hummed in understanding.

“I hope that boy of yours isn’t giving you any problems. Hey kid, have you ever heard of the term “break up?” he looked so serious you had to compose your shocked face.

You waved your hands rapidly “I promise Mr.Jung everything is fine there is...I...oh my” you took a shaky breath as he simply shrugged his shoulders and pet his smaller companion who was having a very serious stare down with a duck.

You wiped your sweaty palms on your yoga pants while you looked around at the tacky named paths trying to decide which one to run today.

“The Pupper Runner path looks particularly nice today,” he suggested. You looked at the path pursing your lips in thought. The path wasn’t one you ran frequently. Since it was one of the wider and flatter paths, there were more people such as families or people walking their dogs. You also didn’t like having run-ins with the cyclists who were grouchier around this time of day for some odd reason.

After contemplating it, you shrugged and decided why not. Getting run over by a ticking time bomb on wheels wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen today. With a small smile sent in Mr.Jungs way, you checked your shoe laces before starting out with a light jog making your way down the specific path.

There was nothing really different about today’s run than others. Just having to dodge the wheel demons and kids happily running ahead of their worried mothers. You were grateful for the distraction. It kept you from straying too far into your head. It was just you running. Running like you always did these days, your shoes slapping on the concrete path and Got7 blaring in your ears.

The heat of the sun shone on your skin, but oddly you still felt cold. It was always cold these days. A light breeze fresh to your burning skin as desperate eyes caught yours, and you were once again bought out of your stupor.

A small boy was kneeled down fingers clutching his untied shoelaces not far from his dad who was trying to calm a crying baby. You didn’t really have a strong adoration for kids, but his panicked pinched face compelled you to come to a slow stop in front of him. Your chest heaved as you bent down to his level sitting on your heels and wrapped your arms around your legs.

“Hey bud, you need some help there?”

The kid made a distraught sound as he nodded his face shaking his hair out of his eyes. He looked dumb founded as he stared at his shoe laces in search of answers they would never give.

“Mama said to make a bunny, but this looks more like my aunt Carol’s dog” he sadly told you.

You snorted reaching out gently to tie his laces with a double knot.

With a grin you looked up at him ruffling his hair and giving him a thumbs up which he happily returned with a toothy smile.

“It’s alright kid, you’ll eventually get it. Just keep trying yeah? Don’t settle or you might catch yourself tripping next time you go on a walk. You’ll get hurt. Wouldn’t want that would we”, you said, lips still stretched kindly upwards, but something in your words struck stingingly deep in your chest.

As the kid nodded happily with a carefree laugh you were about to get up when you heard the air being split and a strained voice yelling “watch out!!”.

You looked up, panicked, only to see a frisbee racing right in your direction with alarming speed. With the goal of protecting the small child, you quickly turned your body. Your shoes making a rough sound against the concrete as a startled light cry left the younger boy’s mouth.

With your hands ready, you easily caught the frisbee gasping at the shock of the situation. You quickly shook it off as you gripped the frisbee turning back to the child who profusely thanked you, his small hands shaking as they clutched onto the hem of your shirt.

You simply smiled reassuringly tapping his shoe and ushering him back to his father who has begun to successfully calm the fussing baby down.

With shaking knees you tried to get up only to wince and slightly waver at the sharp sting that hit your ankle area. You clenched your jaw feeling more than annoyed at the current situation in hand.

You stood up grumbling under your breath as a tall figure jogged over to you. While he made his way toward you, your narrowed eyes met his wide, apologetic ones.

You felt the world shift around you as a calming warmth shot through your body melding with the confusion and panic pooling in your gut, and his eyes widened impossibly as he stumbled managing to stabilize himself right in time in front of you. His figure standing just inches away from you as his hands trembled, and his lips slightly parted.

You got a slight whiff of cologne and mint, but more than anything, the weird feeling in your gut was making a way for the dreadful panic clouding around your heart.

You felt warm.

After feelings of feeling nothing but the hollow cold licking at your veins, there was a nice warmth settling in your chest.

You were scared of it.

With a heavy chest you slightly inched back left somewhat immobile due to the aching pain in your ankle. “What the hell?”, you immediately set off on questioning him leading him to shake his head frantically at you.

“I’m so sorry, i really am.” He put his hand on his chest as if trying to prove his sincerity to you, but you breathlessly took a step back stunned by the intense feelings taking over your heart and mind.

You tried shaking it off, but the warmth lingered.

You weren’t sure you wanted it to go away.

“There’s kids here”, you were so distracted by all the emotions circling your mind you couldn’t possibly put any effort into arguing with the young man. His lips parted to make way for his lips as he nodded his head in understanding. “I know, I'll be more careful next time. I promise.”

Somehow, you knew he was being truthful. You went to say something, possibly something dangerous, but you shook your head and waved your hand.

You tried taking a step but lightly hissed at the sharp pain that shot from your ankle up your leg. The man instantly dove forward steadying you with a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, and the other hovering in worry near your collarbone.

With wide eyes you looked at him as he realized his un-asked for touch and immediately went to back away.

He couldn’t.

Your hand was clutching the cloth of his shirt near his shoulder blades. Hands slowly uncurling, you smiled awkwardly, but he kept his hand where it was. At his touch, the warmth licking the insides of your body became all the more distracting.

“Um, I don’t think you can go all the way back home like this”, he cleared his throat looking at you shily under his bangs. Flustered, you smiled at the ground before looking back up and timidly asking “I can't. Mind helping me out?”.

At your question he let out a beaming grin nodding eagerly. He went to stand in front of you, and he crouched down looking at you over his shoulder with soft brown eyes. You did a small jump, and were caught by his hands slightly gripping under your thighs.

He gave a low chuckle that somehow was felt from where your chest was pressed up against his shoulder blades. “So...what’s your name?”. You let a light giggle escape, “Y/n, yours?”. You saw his jaw move with the syllables of your name whispering it to himself.

“Yunho”, you smiled also sounding out the name on your own mouth. You gave a shuddering exhale, and you laid your head on his shoulder letting yourself really rest for what seemed like the first time in forever.

That night you walked right past Ethan who was quick to begin yelling at you, and you tucked yourself under the safety of your blankets feeling the warmth still encasing your heart, so comforting and alive.

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writer-jamie · 4 years ago

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how about arthur confessing his love for you after he learns he doesn’t have long to live 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Late Night Confessions - Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: When Arthur is told he doesn’t have much time left, the first thing he thought about was you. And how he refused to die without telling you how he feels.

Thank you for the request @s-s-s-s-t-a-r-s !! ❤️

Warnings: Game spoilers

Word Count: 1,455

A/N: AHHHH! I’m playing the game and just as this request came through, Arthur was told he had TB. I’m so sad but i’m going to make this last chapter last forever! Also before i wrote this i made sure to research whether or not TB can be transferred via kissing (It can’t) so this willl have some smooches. This broke me to write but it’s fluffy and cute and sad. So get ready!

As Arthur stumbled into that doctors office and slumped down in the chair, he knew the news wasn’t good. The doctors ran a few tests and washed his hands before telling him. Tuberculosis. His world went black and white as the doctor told him that his time was limited. He was going to die, from an illness that he got from someone he probably didn’t remember. Arthur just had one question for him. “Can i be around people? Y’know kiss and stuff?” He asked. “Yes. Just cover your mouth when you cough and you should be fine. Try not to pass it on, we don’t need a Tuberculosis outbreak in Saint Denis.” The doctor smiled at Arthur. But it wasn’t a genuine smile, it was a smile of condolence. A smile that you give to someone on their death bed.

Arthur left the doctors office and slowly stumbled down the street, when he saw you. You were all he cared about, and now he was going to leave you forever. He felt like he should have cried when he was told, but he couldn’t. The outlaw couldn’t cry over something as simple as death, it wasn’t worth it. He knew he was going to die one day; from a shoot out or the law catching up with them, not from an illness that would slowly kill him over the next couple weeks. His vision went grainy as he walked forwards, seeing you walk alongside a deer. You both turned to see the man before walking off into the distance, leaving him alone to come back to reality.

“Miss L/N!” Mrs Grimshaw’s loud shouting broke you out of your daydream. You looked up and saw her standing in front of you, looking down at the open journal you were holding in your hands. “You can draw people when you have finished your chores! Get on with them!” She yelled before walking away. You wished the old hag would just shut up. You do jobs with Dutch and Arthur now, you shouldn’t be made to also do chores like the other girls. You wish you would be treated like Sadie, who gets to be a proper man around the camp, but that’s unfortunately the way the cards were dealt. You looked down to your hands and a blush crept up your cheeks. You book was open on the page of Arthur sketches. You liked to sketch people at the campfire so when Arthur decided to join you one night, you couldn’t help but sketch his features. After all, it was only you two, and he would never know.

You moved from your place on your bed and put the journal away before following Tilly to the next chore. “Wish that old hag would get off my back sometimes.” Tilly whispered to you as you finished hanging the clothes to dry. You smiled and bumped her shoulder. “Tell me about it.”

As Arthur rode back into camp, he saw you sitting around the campfire with the group. The group hadn’t been the same since what happened in Saint Denis, with Hosea and Lenny dead and John taken, there was only so much people could do without causing an argument. Beaver Hollow was a nice place, but at this point you were just running from the law all around the country and there was only so far you could run. The Pinkertons found you too easily last time, everyone blamed Bill for bringing them to you but you were sure they were close to finding you anyway, so it didn’t make a difference either way.

You hummed along with Javier as he strummed his guitar. He hadn’t played for months, it just didn’t seem right. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around, seeing Karen bring you some food. You shook your head but the woman basically forced it into your lap. You hadn’t eaten properly since what happened in Saint Denis. And then with Molly. She was drunk. She probably didn’t even tell them what happened but Susan shot her. She murdered her. Molly was a snotty bitch and she thought she better than everyone when she started sleeping with Dutch but she’s hadn’t always been like that. When you first joined the gang, Molly was sweet to you. She made sure you were safe and eating well, like a mother figure. When Molly started being sweet on Dutch, she left you behind and Susan took over. That woman had saved you muliple times and you owed her a lot, but she shouldn’t have killed Molly, espcially when she was as drunk as she was.

Karen sat next to you on the log and smiled as she made sure you ate. It wasn’t much but it was something and it showed that Karen cared. And you were grateful for that. You knew that Karen was having a rough time, looking down a bottle everyday but everyone deals with grief and pain in their own way. When Arthur went missing after Saint Denis, you joined the woman down the end of the bottle and you would ride around town, shooting anyone who wanted to have a fight. You were going off the deep end and you couldn’t stop. Arthur managed to bring you out of that for a days that he was back before he started helping people again.

After you finished your food, Karen gave you a loving hug and rocked you gently. It was something you didn’t think you needed but it was so welcome.

The fire crackled as the night went on. You were alone with just your thoughts for a few minutes before a shadowed figure joined you at the fire. “What’s a lady like you sittin’ here all alone?” You looked up to see Arthur joining you on the log. “Actually i was waiting for you to get back.” You passed Arthur your cup of coffee and looked into his eyes. “Somethin’ botherin’ you, Arthur?” You asked, noticing the skin on his cheeks looking more red as you looked more at him. “Ah it’s nothin’.” He coughed slightly. You furrowed your brow and put your hand on his back.

“Arthur? What’s wrong?” You put your hand on his cheek and held his hand. “I’m sick. Very sick.” He told you and took his hat off, looking into your wide eyes. “Arthur, what kinda sick? Like what’s the matter?” Arthur took a deep breath and looked into your eyes. “I’m afraid I'm going to die. Before i do i need to tell you somethin’.” He put his hands in your lap and looked forward into the fire pit. “Y/N. Ever since you came here, when we found you in that barn. I’ve thought you are beautiful and..” He blushed deeply and looked down, moving slightly in his seat. “Christ, i’m rubbish at this.” He ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes.

“Arthur..” You put your hand on his face and turned his face towards you. “Why are you only tellin’ me this now? When you are goin’ to leave me?” You tilted your head to face him. The sound of the fire was the only sound that was left. Arthur didn’t know what to say, and neither did you. You hoped that nobody would wander out their tent and see this situation.

“’Cause i couldn’t die without tellin’ you how i feel.” He leaned forward and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “’Cause i love you.” You took a deep breath and looked at him. “Can i kiss you?” Arthur asked and put his hand against your cheek. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” You asked, unsure what the rules were for his illness. “Yea. I would never put you in danger.” You smiled and moved closer towards him before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He pulled away when he felt water dripping on his face.

“Y/N. Why you cryin’?” He asked and engulfed your cheeks with his big hands and held you close, rubbing away the tears. “’Cause i’m gonna lose you Arthur. And i don’t wanna lose you.” Arthur moved your hand to his chest. You mumbled as you felt his heartbeat drum against his chest. “You will be in ma heart forever.” You sniffled and leaned forward, placing your head against his chest. “I love ya.” He kissed your forehead and rubbed your shoulders.

You sat up and placed your lips on his before placing a small kiss on his cheeks. “I love you too, Mr Morgan. Don’t you leave me just yet.” You pulled him into a hug. All he needed was you, and he knew he was going to be fine.

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 spoilers #red dead redemption 2 #request

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marvinswriting · 4 years ago

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Jason

hey, you guys remember jason from the movie? the one gretchen hooked up with but he didn't actually care about her? yeah :) ALSO REGINA POV?!?!? tw: bullying, suffocation, manipulation, shane omen mention g/t mean girls

I wasn't controlling.

Well- let me rephrase that.

There were rules for being plastic. I made sure Karen and Gretchen followed those rules. That wasn't controlling. Just, guidelines. They're rules in place to help the other plastics. Dress codes, what clubs you can and can't join, you can't buy a dress without the others approval, don't date your friend's exes-

but totally new boys were fair game.

So before you ask, no, that's not why I'm against Gretchen dating Jason.

On surface level, Jason seemed like a nice guy.

But he constantly blew off Gretchen, he flirted with other girls, and overall was totally using her.

And that's not even getting into how he treats tinies.

That's right.

Jason is a two-faced fucking asshole.

And none of the giants can see it.

I mean- I'm sure they're suspicious. I know Damian notices when Janis stiffens the second Jason walks in the room. And, Cady has probably picked up on the way Aaron gets quiet. If Gretchen has caught on to anything, she totally ignores it. I mean- Janis, Aaron, and I tried telling our friends in the begging. Gretchen didn't want to hear it. She's got a huge crush on the guy and totally ignores all red flags.

So we gave up getting through to her.

Besides, who would believe us? Jason was so sweet whenever our giants were around.

I guess when we collectively decided we couldn't get through to Gretchen- all the other giants were a lost cause too. And that was months ago. We're in too deep now.

"Allow me to take it back to the drawing board and suggest the best idea we've had since day one," Janis huffed. We were in an empty hallway after school for 'english help'. We've been staying after a lot more recently.

It's been getting worse.

Jason isn't trying to be sneaky anymore. He'll pick up Aaron without asking, conveniently drop his textbook on the cafeteria table right next to Janis, wrap his arm around Gretchen when I'm on her shoulder.

Yet nobody has caught on.

Janis continued. "Why don't we just tell our giants what he's doing?"

"Because Gretchen won't listen to me."

"Good thing there's three other friends." Janis points out.

I rolled my eyes, waving my hand dismissively. Of course, Janis didn't understand how it felt not to have her giant listen to her. Her and Damian practically share a mind, if anything it's a shock he hasn't started asking questions. "Fine, if you know what's best for everyone, go talk to Damian. I'm sure you two will solve everything with your buddy buddy perfect communication skills. Janis has a giant who actually listens to her! Wow! You don't have to rub it in." I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back against the wall.

Aaron blinks, his gaze bouncing between both of us nervously.

"I wasn't-" Janis pauses, letting her hands fold in her lap. "I wasn't rubbing anything in. Listen- Regina, I'm sorry Gretchen won't listen. Truly. I'm being genuine right now. But don't make me feel guilty for trying to come up with a solution to something affecting all three of us."

"Right," I mumble, guilt rising in my stomach. "Sorry. I just-"

My voice trails off but neither Janis nor Aaron push for me to continue talking. Gretchen was somebody I could always trust to be there and listen to me. Now she didn’t. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to make her listen. We're silent for a while while I regroup my emotions, not wanting to snap for no reason again.

"I have tried talking to Gretchen recently."

"And how did it go?" Aaron prompted.

"Well, it fucking went." I shrug. "Gretchen isn't used to having boys like her. I love her but crushes directed to her don't happen often. So of course she accused me of being jealous a boy finally liked her and not me."

"Maybe it had to do with how you worded it?" Janis suggests.

"Well, how else do I word 'hey maybe you should break up with the boy you're not even officially dating yet because he's toxic, a cheater, not actually in love with you, also harassing your tiny friends'?"

"Literally any way but that." Janis mumbled.

I shrug again, pulling out my phone. "Well, I did my best. You know emotions aren't my thing." I want to cry a little just thinking about the talk last week. But I don't. Crying won't fix anything.

"Regina, why can't you be happy that a boy likes me for once?! I know you're used to all the boys falling head over heels for you, but this is the first time a cute boy has put in the effort to care and call back and-"

"But he doesn't, Gretchen! He doesn't call back. He. Doesn't. Care! I'm doing this for you because nobody else is gonna tell you. Jason is bad news. He doesn't care about you, or Karen, or Cady, or Damian, and he really doesn't give a shit about Janis, Aaron, or I!"

"Just let me be happy, Regina." Gretchen says dismissively, ignoring everything I just said.

There's a hand on my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. Aaron looks at me worriedly but retreats his arm. "Gina, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just-" I wipe away a strand of hair that's been matted to my face by tears. Wait-

-tears?

I use my sleeve to dry my face quickly. I didn't even realize I started crying. I was just so tired. I was supposed to feel safe around my friends. Even when the rest of the school sees me as an emotionless bitch I should be able to turn to my friends and be okay. I couldn't do what when my current number one source of fear has intruded into our group.

"So," Janis says awkwardly. "We don't tell our giants directly. How do we get them to see the side of Jason we're seeing?"

"We catch him in the act." Aaron suggests.

Janis shakes her head with a sigh. "I am tired and quite frankly sick. I don't want our plan 'a' to be; lets put ourselves in danger in hopes that our friends stop by to witness. Let's make that plan 'y' or 'z'."

"Well, we already have plans 'b' through 'z'. We need and 'a', I'm just spouting ideas." Aaron points out.

Janis sighs, shaking her head. "I should have stuck with Damian. I need a nap and maybe an Advil."

I chuckled dryly at the girl sitting across from me. "Always have your priorities sorted, huh Janis?"

"If my priorities include being sick and not wanting to deal with Jason ever again then yeah."

"It's getting harder and harder 'not to deal with Jason ever again'," Aaron pointed out. "Remember lunch last week?"

"Don't remind me." Janis huffed.

Last week Jason decided to be a lot more careless with how he treated us around our giant friends.

I cringe just thinking of the memory.

"All I'm saying is the tiny soccer team is so underfunded. We're even better than the giant soccer team but you wouldn't know it because we've set up to fail."

I raise my eyebrow as Aaron sits next to me, passionately explaining how he swears the tiny soccer team is not a total failure.

I sat in front of Gretchen and across from Janis, who was flopped against Damian's forearm clearly struggling to stay awake.

I grin as she yawns.

"Am I boring you, Janis?" Aaron teases.

"A little," Janis says with full honesty.

Before Aaron can remark, a stack of textbooks is dropped in between him and I, narrowly missing me as I push myself backward.

Jason.

Janis's eyes widen and I instantly rush around the textbook to make sure Aaron is okay. He is, just looks equally as shaken up as I do.

Jason sits in the seat between Damian and Gretchen without bothering to great the tinies he just nearly crushed. It's where Cady normally sits, but she isn't here today.

"Jason!" Gretchen grins, pecking him on the cheek like I didn't just almost die.

I throw and exasperated look to Janis who laughs at my expense.

She wasn't the one almost fucking crushed.

Janis pushes off Damian's arm, making her way over to Aaron and I.

Or tries to.

She doesn't make it very far before shes intercepted by a hand scooping her up.

Janis makes a noise of surprise as Jason lifts her off the table without asking.

I push myself closer to Gretchen as Janis instantly tries to get back down to the table. Jason's thumb knocks her down and I cringe because- that looked like it hurt.

Damian eyes Jason wearily but doesn't vocally say anything. But neither does Janis so why would anyone worry? It's just Jason. Sweet Jason. The boy who's probably gonna ask Gretchen to spring fling. Innocent Jason.

Janis sits up again, clearly uncomfortable, as Damian speaks. "Maybe I should hold Janis?"

"No," Jason says simply before Janis can even open her mouth. "She's fine."

"Janis," Damian ignores the boy next to him. "Do you want Jason holding you?"

Janis is silent for a while, and I don't blame her.

She's in Jason's hands.

One wrong more and shes getting hurt-

badly.

"I- I uh, kinda want to be with Damian right now? If that's okay?" Janis speaks slowly, picking her words wisely.

"That's okay!" Jason reassures her sweetly, passing the girl to her giant. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." Aaron and Janis make an identical face of discussed at the sickly sweet tone and I can only assume my face is similar.

"It's okay." Janis says softly, visibly more relaxed in Damain's hands.

Jason forces a frown. "Well- I'll go give you space. Gretchen, I'll see you next period."

He gets up, walking away but I don't feel very bad for him. If anything, I feel safer. And if the collective breath of relief from Janis and Aaron was an indicator- they felt the same.

As soon as Jason was out of earshot, Gretchen turned to Janis. "Jason was just trying to be nice, Janis. You need to be willing to welcome him into our friend group."

Janis' jaw slacked. The 'are you kidding me' went unsaid. Instead, Janis forced out an "Of course, it's my fault."

"I'm serious, Janis. Be nice."

"I'm serious too." Janis shot back.

Aaron and I shared a look of helplessness. We couldn't just tell them. Our giants would never believe us.

To them, Jason could do no wrong.

"The only solution is to never go to lunch again." Janis speaks up, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Mhmm, sure. That's a reasonable solution." Aaron teases.

"You got something better, soccer boy?" Janis raises her eyebrow.

Aaron shakes his head. "We've reached a dead end. Gina? You got any ideas?"

I shake my head with defeat. "Unfortunately, no. All I know is Jason hates us and his goal is to make our friends hate us too through lying and manipulation."

"Go girl, give us nothing." Janis rolls her eyes. "We already knew that Regina."

"Okay, I get your sick and cranky, Janis, but I don't need you-"

"Okay!" Aaron interrupts me. "The three of us are stressed! We're worried. We're scared. But we're also all on the same page. Let's not go at each other's throats right now. We're the only ones who understand each other's struggles. Please stop fighting."

Janis and I both mumble a weak sorry.

Aaron was right. We were all scared. Can you blame us? Jason was doing everything in his power to isolate us from our friends. For no other reason other then we're tinies and see-through his act. Why he wants Gretchen so bad is beyond me. But hell am I gonna let his toxic ass have her.

"Do you guys remember that scarf Gretchen wore last week?" I ask.

Janis tilts her head. "Yeah?"

"I don't pay enough attention." Aaron shrugs.

I grin. "Well, it was a baggy infinity scarf to refresh your memory. There was enough fabric that I could sit on Gretchen's shoulder next to her neck and not be seen. So I obviously skipped my boring history lecture. But also- Gretchen talked to Jason. He didn't know I was there."

"You're like a spy!" Janis grinned, invested in the story. "What happened?!"

"Hey, Gretchen!" Jason smiles, slipping his hand into Gretchen's as they walked down the hall.

I sunk lower into the pool of fabric, hopping Grethen didn't point out I was here.

"Hey, Jason!"

I let out a breath of relief when she doesn't.

"I have to ask you something," Jason asked.

My ears perk up as I wait for him to continue.

"Is that Janis girl always so- unfriendly? I get the feeling she doesn't like me. I just don't know why. Like Regina clearly doesn't like me very much but she might just be jealous you've got a boy and she doesn't-"

So that's where the seed of jealously in Gretchen's head was planted from. It takes all of me not the stand-up and call Jason out on his bullshit.

He continues.

"But I don't understand why Janis or Aaron wouldn't like me. Aaron just gets quiet and hey- maybe he's shy. But Janis lashes out every time I try and talk to her."

"Janis can be like that sometimes." Gretchen says, nodding in agreement.

Jason could tell her the earth is fucking flat and this bitch would nod in agreement.

I wouldn't be surprised if Gretchen is even really listening to what Jason is saying.

All she's thinking is 'hot boy's lips are moving'.

Ugh.

"At least he's caught onto the fact that I don't fucking like him." Janis crossed her arms.

"Janis, he's painting you to be the bad guy. He's trying to turn Gretchen against you, what don't you understand about that?" Aaron asked.

"Oh no, I understood. I just don't care. I hate Jason and I'm glad he's caught on."

"He hates you more." I point out.

"Impossible." Janis shook her head.

We go back and forth about who hates who more before settling on the fact that our collective hate for him outweighs anything he feels for us.

"Let's go meet our giants, it's getting late." Aaron said standing up. He holds out his hand, helping Janis up first, then me.

Janis groans holding her head. "Still feel sick as fuck and standing up so fast did not help."

"Woe is you." I roll my eyes. "Let's go."

We walk through the school, making our way to the tiny pick up zone. We're halfway there as Aarons phone dings.

Its a text from Cady.

Aaron reads allowed: "Gretchen went home early so Karen is driving Regina home. Damian and Karen are still in after school help and I might be a bit late to pick you three up. Wait there for me, I swear I didn't forget about you guys."

I laugh. "Cady could never forget about us."

"I mean-" Janis starts. "There was the one ti-"

"Shut up." I cut her off. "Cady would never forget about her tiny friends."

We make it to the tiny pick up zone and sit against a wall to wait. It's no surprise that the hallway is empty. It's late after school on a Monday. Who would willingly still be in school?

There's footsteps down the hall and we all look up, expecting Cady.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Janis groans.

"Ever the pleasant one, Sarkisian." Jason jeers.

"I'm tired, and sick, and will literally cry if you even touch me. I will bawl. And maybe bite. Don't come the fuck near me." Janis threatens, holding up a sharpened pencil like its a knife.

Jason doesn't seem intimidated by this action. "Whatcha gonna do? Nibble my finger?"

"Fuck off!" Janis whines, throwing her head back. "Literally any day but today."

"Listen whiney and friends. I just hear to pick you up for your friends. So stop being such a bitch Janis."

The friends that told us to 'wait here for Cady'?

Riiight.

I share a knowing look with Aaron while Janis gets up, making her way back into the tiny halls.

"Not fucking dealing with this. Good day asshole."

"Nope." Jason reaches forward, picking Janis off the platform. "You're coming with me bitch."

"This is kidnapping," Janis says flatly. She doesn't fight Jason or thrash. She looks tired, like death is appealing at this point. "I'm being abducted."

Jason's fingers tighten around her. "Thought you were the fisty one? Huh? Shane said you put up a pretty good fight. Where's the fight, Sarkisian?"

"You talked to Shane?" I gawk. I don't know why I'm surprised. They definitely seem like best friends.

"Can you put me the fuck down?" Janis huffs. "Kinda hard to breath."

"Oh, is it?" Jason said with feigned worry. "Shame."

Janis cried out as the hand around her tightened, and Jason grinned at the first real signs of fear Janis has shown yet.

"Put me down- asshole!" Janis wheezed.

"Let go of her!" Aaron yelled.

It was moments like these when you really realize how helpless you were as a tiny.

All I could do was sit and watch as Aaron yelled and Janis squirmed. All I could do was pray Cady or really anybody would walk past and see what's happening.

Yeah, we've been threatened with death before.

Every tiny in Northshore has at least once.

And yeah, we've been pushed around before.

But I've never legitimately feared for my life of a friend's life.

I know maybe that's just a perk of being Regina Geroge, but this was new territory. And scary as fuck territory at that.

Jason seems pretty fucking pleased with himself and it makes my stomach twist. It's never gone this far before.

Somebody is going to get really hurt.

And I can't do anything.

I can almost feel my heart stop as Janis goes limp. I can't see her face.

But she's not fucking moving.

"Oh whoops." Jason shugs. "You tinies really are weak."

Aaron looks like if he could he'd fucking kill Jason.

Wouldn't we all.

"Put her down!" I yell, snapping out of my helpless funk.

Jason loosens his grip on Janis but she doesn't move. My breath feels caught in my throat.

My eyes were trained on Janis and I didn't see Jasons another hand till his finger flicked into my side, sending me falling backward.

I felt like I was living through one of those dramatic fight scenes in the movies.

Expect isn't it the villains who are supposed to be defeated?

I'm curled into myself on the floor, Janis is knocked out in the literal hands of the enemy and Aaron looks ready to kill or cry, whichever is possible first.

Never thought I'd die in high school.

"Hey, Jason, is that you?" A voice calls from down the hall.

"Cady!" Aaron runs to the egde of the platform.

Jasons condescending nature and snarl disappear. "Hello, Heron!"

"Is Janis asleep?" Cady asks as her eyes fall to Jason's hand. "She only ever falls asleep with Damian, either shes exhausted or really trust you."

The bitter laugh is out of my mouth before I can stop it.

Cady looks at me and tilts her head. "Regina, why do you look like you've been crying on the floor?" She pauses, her eyes trailing back between the four of us. I can almost see the doubt set in her mind. Yes! "What's really going on here?" She asks. "And uh, I'm gonna take Janis-"

Jason shakes his head. "She's fine, it won't be necessary."

"No, I wasn't offering." Cady's voice is an unfamiliar cold. "I'll take Janis."

I stand up and make my way closer to Aaron as Cady takes Janis away from Jason. "Now, what the fuck is going on.

"Literally nothing, we're just talking and-"

"No! He's a fucking asshole and he-"

"Regina, what did I ever do to you?!"

"Are you kidding me?!"

Cady looks between us nervously. "Uh, Aaron? Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Gladly."

Cady steps over, picking both Aaron and I up. My mouth is still open from shock.

What did I ever do to you?!

Fucking bitch, want me to list it?

"So uh," Aaron starts nervously. Cady cups her hands so I'm next to Janis who looks like she's beginning to stir but uh- I've never been suffocated before, maybe she's just sleeping at this point.

But she's breathing. It's reassuring enough for me.

"It started a couple months ago." Aaron continues. "Jason actually isnt very nice? To the tinies at least." He laughs nervously, leaning closer into Cady's hand and away from Jason, who isn't bothering to keep the nice facade up anymore. "He's actually like- Shane Omen but worse?"

"Worse?" Cady's jaw drops slightly in disbelief.

"I mean- he held Janis so tight that she passed out so I'd fucking say so." I snark.

Aaron nods. "Yeah, heh- like, I dunno. Just- not nice? He uh, flicked Regina, which is why she was laying down when you walked over. And like its not the first time he's done this? Especially when we're alone."

There's an unreadable look on Cady's face as she looks up to Jason.

It almost scares me.

"I'm gonna walk away. Just-" Cady gives a low laugh. "Jesus, I almost feel sorry for you, Jason. You deserve everything coming to you. Starting with Gretchen and Damian when they find out."

Despite everything, I can't help but smile at the way Jason's face falls with realization.

It's not a big secret that Gretchen loves an excuse to slap someone.

And this is hell of an excuse.

I look at Janis who is still laying next to me, breathing shallowly.

We might have to bail Damian out of fucking jail.

Cady turns on her heels without saying another word to Jason and walks down the halls. Once he is out of earshot she looks down at us. "How long?!"

Aaron shrugs. "Since Gretchen first met Jason."

"That's like three months guys!" Cady looks genuinely heartbroken. "I can't believe we didn't notice."

Janis stirs next to me, weakly propping herself up. "Huh?"

There are tears in Cady's eyes as she stops walking. "You guy have been enduring this for three months?"

"No," I say. "Well- yes but not really. It was a build-up. He didn't just start attacking us to the point of death one random day. It started with little things. Like pushing us around and knocking us over."

"That shouldn't happen anyway!" Cady says sadly.

"But it did," Janis mumbled. She seems to have caught onto whats going on. "My chest hurts."

"I'm so sorry you guys," Cady whispers sadly. "I- how did we not notice?"

"Not notice what?"

I turn around to see Karen and Damian walking over. For a second my eyes trail behind them in search of Gretchen but- she went home. Of course.

"Cady, are you crying?" Damian asks, instantly worried. "Is everything okay? Where's Janis?"

"Right here, dude." Janis mumbles. She's looking down at her lap, her arms wrapped loosely around herself. She's still wheezing slightly and tears threaten to spill over her eyes. I don't blame her. That was almost death.

Janis almost died.

My breath hitches at the realization.

As a tiny, you almost die a lot. But- it's accidental. It's falling or almost being crushed. Never malicious actions of bigger peers.

Cady offers her hands out and I step backward, letting Damian gently scoop up Janis.

"What happened?" Karen asks, peering over Damian's shoulder at Janis.

I look back to Cady trying to figure out if she's gonna talk or if Aaron and I have to explain. She's staring at Karen with a crestfallen gaze, tear tracks down her face. "Guys-" She starts.

I know this is hard for her because she's taking it personally and blaming herself, but we really don't need the fanfare.

Not that I'm gonna step up and tell the story.

Karen steps towards picking up me and Aaron. Cady doesn't fight it, she just lets her hands fall to her side. "Y'know, Jason?"

"Yeah of course. Smile emoji." Karen says from above me.

I look over to Janis, who has her arm around Damain's finger. She's doing pretty well for passing out. God knows I'd be sobbing if that were me. Hell, the ache in my side is enough to make me want to cry right now.

"Not smiley face emoji, Karen," Cady explains softly. "I don't know the full thing, you're gonna have to ask the tinies but-"

Cady explains what she walked over to see and the minimal information she got out of us earlier. She left out a lot, but she didn't know a lot to be fair. The look of utter horror on our friend's faces almost made me feel bad. We barely scraped the top layer.

Damian is looking down at the girl in his hands who at some point in the bad retelling started crying again. Karen had held Aaron and I even closer and Cady looked ready to sit down and cry. Me too, Cady.

"Three months?" Damian whispers weakly. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why would you believe us? Jason's fucking great." Janis said bitterly, still clinging to his finger.

"Of course we would believe you, Jan."

"Gretchen didn't." I say softly.

I didn't really think about what I was saying. I was just mumbling to myself. But Karen heard.

"You told her?"

I shrug. "Tried to. She didn't listen."

"Well, she's gonna listen when we tell her tomorrow," Cady says. "I can't believe you didn't tell us."

I shrug dismissively, not wanting to talk about it. "It's not a big deal."

I didn't mean it. Of course, it's a big deal. But I said it wasn't anyway.

"You're telling me Janis almost died today and it's not the first time you guys have been through something like that, but don't worry it's not a big deal?!"

I pause, looking at the three giants. This was Aaron, Janis and I's normal. It's what we went through every day. Yeah, it's shitty but we're used to it. I forget sometimes the giants don't understand the fact not getting shoved around is normal for us. Being threatened and made fun of for our size is just part of an average day.

"Can we continue this with Gretchen at lunch tomorrow? I don't want this conversation twice. I feel even crappier than I already did before and I just want to sleep." Janis speaks up from where Damian held her protectively close.

"You all better tell us everything tomorrow." Cady says.

"Cady are you taking Aaron or should I get these two home?" Karen asks.

"This was a really funny joke guys." Gretchen says from above me. Despite her words, her voice is void of all amusement.

"Yes, because we're the type to make jokes about our tiny friends almost dying." Damian deadpans. Janis is sitting on the table in front of him looking like she'd rather talk about anything other than this.

I don't blame her.

But this could finally be my chance to get Gretchen to listen and believe me.

"Gretchen." I turn around to look up at her, but I'm on the table I need to crane my neck. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but you have to believe us. Cady witnessed it with her own eyes if you don't believe me. Janis sure as hell can vouch since she nearly fucking died yesterday."

Gretchen doesn't respond for a long time. I feel like I can see the seed of doubt settle in on the situation. She reaches forward, scooping me up and bringing me to her shoulder.

"I- I'm not sure what to believe," She admits. "but I'll listen. I'm sorry I didn't do that before."

That one sentence felt like so much weight being lifted. Jason had Gretchen around her finger. His word was law and everyone else could fuck themself.

But not anymore.

I open my mouth to speak but get cut off by a familiar and unwelcoming voice.

"Hello everyone!"

Cady's eyes widen in disbelief. "You aren't actually stupid enough to think about sitting with us today, right Jason?"

"Aw, why not?" He asks, sitting next to Gretchen and slinging his arm over her shoulder.

I gasp as I'm knocked forward, gripping onto Gretchen's shirt underneath me as I try to stay on.

Gretchen bats Jason's arm away and scoops me up. "Jason we were talking about something private maybe it's better you join us again later."

Jason's eyes narrowed, as he looked across the table. I sunk lower in Gretchen's hand as his eyes landed on me but he moved on without trying anything. I mean- obviously, Gretchen was right here but still.

Cady's hand was resting wearily by Aaron if Jason tried something and Janis had been transported to Damian's pocket when I wasn't looking. How could Gretchen not pick up on how stressed we all are?

"What's wrong?" Jason asked, turning to Gretchen.

"It's nothing for you to worry about. I just-"

"Did I do something wrong?" Jason's face fell and I almost felt bad for him. Almost. He should pursue an acting career.

Gretchen looked at loss for what to say for a second before speaking up. "Where were you yesterday after school?"

Jason scoffed. "Whatever Cady said was a lie, Gretch."

"I-" Gretchen froze. "I didn't mention Cady."

Jason's eyes widened as he began to backtrack but- it was too late.

"Jason I need you to leave, please." Gretchen's hand was shaking as she placed me gently on the table. "There are some things I need to rethink."

"You really believe those tinies?" Jason's face morphed into utter disgust.

The mask was off, the act was over. Karen reached over, tugging me away from Gretchen and Jason and closer to her.

"I should have believed them a while ago, apparently." Gretchen snapped.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Please. They're just tinies. What makes them so trustworthy? Actually- what makes them worthy?"

Karen lets out a legitimate gasp from above me. Gretchen looks to me with an expression I can't read. My breath feels caught in my throat. I can't shake the feeling that this may be where I lose my best friend.

But she looks back at Jason. "I can't believe you really just asked that. Did you think that would help your point? What made you think- oh this will totally get Gretchen on my side? What is wrong with you?"

Jason looks dumbfounded at Gretchen's outburst. "Gretchen-"

I knew it was coming, so it was no surprise as Gretchen raises her arm, and a loud smack echos through the cafeteria over all the oblivious conversations. Jason gasps, his hand shooting up to his cheek. "You fucking bitch-"

"You have treated my friends awfully for too long. Go fuck off and find somewhere else to sit for lunch." Gretchen says simply, turning away from Jason.

Jason doesn't say anything as he looks across the table one last time. Aaron was still on the table but Cady had her hand cupped around him defensively, Damian's hand rested over his chest pocket and Janis gripped onto his finger. Karen had pulled against her arm where I sat pushed away as far away from Jason as possible. It was pretty clear he wasn't wanted here.

"Whatever." He bitterly admits defeat, pushing away from the table and walking away. Gretchen watched him leave before turning to me, wide-eyed.

"I can't believe I didn't believe you." She said sadly. "I can't believe I didn't believe any of you." I hold my arms out and Gretche complies, reaching over to scoop me up. "Regina, I'm so sorry."

I don't try and stop the tears that burn in my eyes as Gretchen holds me close to her.

We still have a lot to talk about after this but-

I've finally won after a long and painful battle. All our giants are awake and no longer oblivious to the suffering.

I'm safe.

I cling to Gretchens's shirt as the tears poor over my eyes. Gretchen shakes and I realize- she's crying too.

I wouldn't be surprised if I turned around and the whole table was.

Jason was an asshole. He manipulated his way into the friend group and made my life miserable. Plus Janis and Aaron too, I guess. But he's gone now.

We don't have to worry anymore.

We're okay.

It will be okay.

2.5/10 not my best work but fun to write @realmisspolarbear @smallsoysauce @musicallygt

#yes #shane omen mention is an official trigger warning now #hes a very triggering guy smh #g/t mean girls #tiny regina #giant gretchen #giant jason #ooo #tiny janis #giant damian #tiny aaron #giant cady #giant karen

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reddeadinmybed · 5 years ago

Text

Protective (F)

The whole camp was quiet as it was early in the morning. My morning sickness was just getting worse and worse as my pregnancy continues on, and I was only in my fifth week.

I have yet to tell Javier that I was pregnant. I could never quite find the time to tell him, he was always busy with missions and trying to save other people’s asses instead of having a break.

Today though, I feel was the day. Javier had just come back from a night mission with Arthur. Arthur was already back at the camp, asleep in his own tent. That means that Javier is back and I can finally tell him.

I stepped out of the tent, the confined space making my morning sickness feel worse. I don’t know why pregnancy causes people to feel sick, honestly it was stupid. And I was so hormonal, Mary-Beth thought I was hormonal because of my period. I guess soon she’ll find out why I’m really up and down with my emotions.

Mary-Beth has always wanted a kid. When Abigail gave birth to little Jack, she became clucky. Mary-Beth fantasised that she would find a guy (she always said she wanted a veteran) and he would sweep her off her feet and marry her. Then they’d have cute kids and live happily ever after. It was sweet but in my honest opinion, she has been reading too many books.

Most veterans have lost limbs or have become mentally scarred. I don’t think they’d want to marry or have kids anytime soon. But if that’s what Mary-Beth wants, no one can stop her.

In my honest opinion, I think her and Arthur would be great together. They’re both softies and I can tell Arthur would be a great father. A bit clueless but great nonetheless. The two of them together, that kid would have the greatest parents.

Which is exactly what I hope happens with Javier and I. I want the best for my child but I fear Javier would never retire of this life, and it would be selfish of me to ask him to. I know this life isn’t ideal for a child to grow up in, but I love the life too. The thrill of moving to new places, meeting new people, it makes me feel excited.

Maybe our kid will love this life and continue down Javier’s track. Or maybe our kid will become a doctor or a lawyer and be completely opposite of Javier and I. Either way, I know both Javier and myself will love this child dearly.

Speaking of Javier, I see him walking towards our tent. Javier has a smile on his face as he saw me waiting for him.

“Mi amor, were you waiting for me?” He questioned, his grin growing larger by the second.

“Of course I was waiting for you, I missed you.” I pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, hugging him tenderly. Hugging Javier was amazing, my build fitting perfectly with Javier’s strong yet slim body.

I loved Javier more than anything. There’s nothing that would ever become in between my love for him, except maybe the baby. But even then, I will still love Javier so much.

“I missed you too.” Javier leaned forward, our mouths connected in a gentle yet loving kiss. Instead of a peck, Javier kept going, humming in contentment. Javier’s arms wrapped around my waist and I just knew he felt the beginning of my baby belly. It was small but it was coming, I had a feeling this baby was going to be a big one.

“Mi amor, you didn’t eat a whole pot of stew when I was gone did you?” He winked at me and I scoffed, slapping him on the chest.

“No, I didn’t thank you. I actually need to tell you something.” I said in between kisses. He pulled away, looking at me inquisitively. I gave him a nervous grin in return.

“What is it mi amor? Are you in trouble? Do I need to teach someone a lesson? You know I won’t hesitate, not after last time –”

“Javier, honey, please listen.” I giggled.

He stopped talking and looked at me, a small grin on his cute lips. He looked absolutely adorable with his small grin and I just wanted to grab his cheeks and squeeze them, or even kiss them.

How did I get so lucky with Javier? What did I do to deserve this chance of a family with him?

“Ok, so you know how we’ve talked about having little Javier and little Y/N’s around?” I asked.

Javier nodded.

“Well, that’s finally going to happen because...I’m pregnant.” I finally let it out, releasing a sigh of relief while I was at it.

Javier remained silent for a few seconds, processing the words that no doubt shocked him to his core. He looked so cute with a confused expression on his face.

“Disculpe mi amor, did you just say that you were pregnant?” His grin grew larger and larger until he had a large smile on his face.

“I did Javier, I’m pregnant and we’re gonna be parents,” I confirmed for him.

Javier wasted no time pulling me in for a hug. He hugged me so tight that I thought I’d die of a lack of oxygen. Javier pulled back and kissed me, passionately.

He pulled back and cupped my face saying, “thank you so much mi amor,” over and over.

I grinned, tears pouring down my face. He generally looked so happy and I couldn’t be more proud to be that person that has made him so happy.

“You’re welcome baby, you’re so welcome.” He hugged me once again, this time more gentle than the last.

“Everyone, I’m going to be a papà!” Cheers resonated from the camp and I felt a pang of happiness surge through me, giving me energy.

This could quite possibly be the best day of my life.

“Absolutely not, you cannot go there, I will not allow it.” Dutch waved his hands around, making his point of me not being able to go to Valentine final.

“But Dutch it’s only for –”

“No Miss Y/L/N and that’s final. We can’t risk you losing the baby, think of Javier please!” He exclaimed whilst breathing heavily.

I looked down, my disappointed face evident.

“I just really wanted to get something for Javier, his birthday is soon.” I said, more quietly this time.

Dutch sighed.

“Then get Miss Grimshaw or even Karen to get you something. From this day on, you’re banned from leaving this camp.” Dutch retreated back to his tent, not wanting to hear anything else from me.

I sighed, tears falling down my cheek.

Why am I not allowed to do anything? Since when was this camp a prison? We claimed to be free and we claimed we can do anything we want but why am I an exemption? Why am I being treated this way?

I walked back towards my tent, dragging my feet along the way.

“Everything okay Miss Y/L/N?” Arthur asked, grabbing my arm, rubbing his hand up and down. I looked up at him, attempting a smile but tears were still streaming down my face.

“Yes, everything’s fine Arthur. I’m just upset that I can’t go to Valentine today.” I explained and Arthur gave a small reassuring smile.

“Everyone just wants the best for you, alright? We’re being protective because we don’t want anything to happen to you.” I nodded in understanding.

When Arthur puts it like that, it makes more sense. Anything could happen at any point and they just want to make sure that I’m safe and so is my child. I understand now.

“Thank you Arthur, you’ve really helped me see it in a different way.” He nodded and said his goodbyes, walking off, once again leaving me alone.

Yes the gang is protective, and yes I feel bound but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’d rather be protected and have people surround me, not letting me leaving rather than having no one to protect me and no one to guide me.

I walked back to mine and Javier’s tent, stepping in and lying down next to a sleeping Javier. Javier wrapped his arms around me, embracing not only me but our yet to be born child.

Javier is going to being the best father I know. I’m so glad that I get to spend my life with him and I’m so glad I have a camp that cares for its members.

Thanks for the reads

- REDDEADINMYBED

#arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #red dead redemption 2 #red dead #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption imagines #john marston #red dead redemption smut #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella smut #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella imagines

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gordonwilliamsweb · 4 years ago

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Why Black Aging Matters, Too

Old. Chronically ill. Black.

People who fit this description are more likely to die from COVID-19 than any other group in the country.

They are perishing quietly, out of sight, in homes and apartment buildings, senior housing complexes, nursing homes and hospitals, disproportionately poor, frail and ill, after enduring a lifetime of racism and its attendant adverse health effects.

Yet, older Black Americans have received little attention as protesters proclaim that Black Lives Matter and experts churn out studies about the coronavirus.

“People are talking about the race disparity in COVID deaths, they’re talking about the age disparity, but they’re not talking about how race and age disparities interact: They’re not talking about older Black adults,” said Robert Joseph Taylor, director of the Program for Research on Black Americans at the University of Michigan’s Institute for Social Research.

A KHN analysis of data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention underscores the extent of their vulnerability. It found that African Americans ages 65 to 74 died of COVID-19 five times as often as whites. In the 75-to-84 group, the death rate for Blacks was 3½ times greater. Among those 85 and older, Blacks died twice as often. In all three age groups, death rates for Hispanics were higher than for whites but lower than for Blacks.

(The gap between Blacks and whites narrows over time because advanced age, itself, becomes an increasingly important, shared risk. Altogether, 80% of COVID-19 deaths are among people 65 and older.)

The data comes from the week that ended Feb. 1 through Aug. 8. Although breakdowns by race and age were not consistently reported, it is the best information available.

Mistrustful of Outsiders

Social and economic disadvantage, reinforced by racism, plays a significant part in unequal outcomes. Throughout their lives, Blacks have poorer access to health care and receive services of lower quality than does the general population. Starting in middle age, the toll becomes evident: more chronic medical conditions, which worsen over time, and earlier deaths.

Several conditions — diabetes, chronic kidney disease, obesity, heart failure and pulmonary hypertension, among others — put older Blacks at heightened risk of becoming seriously ill and dying from COVID-19.

Yet many vulnerable Black seniors are deeply distrustful of government and health care institutions, complicating efforts to mitigate the pandemic’s impact.

The infamous Tuskegee syphilis study — in which African American participants in Alabama were not treated for their disease — remains a shocking, indelible example of racist medical experimentation. Just as important, the lifelong experience of racism in health care settings — symptoms discounted, needed treatments not given — leaves psychic scars.

In Seattle, Catholic Community Services sponsors the African American Elders Program, which serves nearly 400 frail homebound seniors each year.

“A lot of Black elders in this area migrated from the South a long time ago and were victims of a lot of racist practices growing up,” said Margaret Boddie, 77, who directs the program. “With the pandemic, they’re fearful of outsiders coming in and trying to tell them how to think and how to be. They think they’re being targeted. There’s a lot of paranoia.”

“They won’t open the door to people they don’t know, even to talk,” complicating efforts to send in social workers or nurses to provide assistance, Boddie said.

In Los Angeles, Karen Lincoln directs Advocates for African American Elders and is an associate professor of social work at the University of Southern California.

“Health literacy is a big issue in the older African American population because of how people were educated when they were young,” she said. “My maternal grandmother, she had a third-grade education. My grandfather, he made it to the fifth grade. For many people, understanding the information that’s put out, especially when it changes so often and people don’t really understand why, is a challenge.”

What this population needs, Lincoln suggested, is “help from people who they can relate to” — ideally, a cadre of African American community health workers.

With suspicion running high, older Blacks are keeping to themselves and avoiding health care providers.

“Testing? I know only of maybe two people who’ve been tested,” said Mardell Reed, 80, who lives in Pasadena, California, and volunteers with Lincoln’s program. “Taking a vaccine [for the coronavirus]? That is just not going to happen with most of the people I know. They don’t trust it and I don’t trust it.”

Reed has high blood pressure, anemia, arthritis and thyroid and kidney disease, all fairly well controlled. She rarely goes outside because of COVID-19. “I’m just afraid of being around people,” she admitted.

Other factors contribute to the heightened risk for older Blacks during the pandemic. They have fewer financial resources to draw upon and fewer community assets (such as grocery stores, pharmacies, transportation, community organizations that provide aging services) to rely on in times of adversity. And housing circumstances can contribute to the risk of infection.

In Chicago, Gilbert James, 78, lives in a 27-floor senior housing building, with 10 apartments on each floor. But only two of the building’s three elevators are operational at any time. Despite a “two-person-per-elevator policy,” people crowd onto the elevators, making it difficult to maintain social distance.

“The building doesn’t keep us updated on how they’re keeping things clean or whether people have gotten sick or died” of COVID-19, James said. Nationally, there are no efforts to track COVID-19 in low-income senior housing and little guidance about necessary infection control.

Large numbers of older Blacks also live in intergenerational households, where other adults, many of them essential workers, come and go for work, risking exposure to the coronavirus. As children return to school, they, too, are potential vectors of infection.

‘Striving Yet Never Arriving’

In recent years, the American Psychological Association has called attention to the impact of racism-related stress in older African Americans — yet another source of vulnerability.

This toxic stress, revived each time racism becomes manifest, has deleterious consequences to physical and mental health. Even racist acts committed against others can be a significant stressor.

“This older generation went through the civil rights movement. Desegregation. Their kids went through busing. They grew up with a knee on their neck, as it were,” said Keith Whitfield, provost at Wayne State University and an expert on aging in African Americans. “For them, it was an ongoing battle, striving yet never arriving. But there’s also a lot of resilience that we shouldn’t underestimate.”

This year, for some elders, violence against Blacks and COVID-19’s heavy toll on African American communities have been painful triggers. “The level of stress has definitely increased,” Lincoln said.

During ordinary times, families and churches are essential supports, providing practical assistance and emotional nurturing. But during the pandemic, many older Blacks have been isolated.

In her capacity as a volunteer, Reed has been phoning Los Angeles seniors. “For some of them, I’m the first person they’ve talked to in two to three days. They talk about how they don’t have anyone. I never knew there were so many African American elders who never married and don’t have children,” she said.

Meanwhile, social networks that keep elders feeling connected to other people are weakening.

“What is especially difficult for elders is the disruption of extended support networks, such as neighbors or the people they see at church,” said Taylor, of the University of Michigan. “Those are the ‘Hey, how are you doing? How are your kids? Anything you need?’ interactions. That type of caring is very comforting and it’s now missing.”

In Brooklyn, New York, Barbara Apparicio, 77, has been having Bible discussions with a group of church friends on the phone each weekend. Apparicio is a breast cancer survivor who had a stroke in 2012 and walks with a cane. Her son and his family live in an upstairs apartment, but she does not see him much.

“The hardest part for me [during this pandemic] has been not being able to go out to do the things I like to do and see people I normally see,” she said.

In Atlanta, Celestine Bray Bottoms, 83, who lives on her own in an affordable senior housing community, is relying on her faith to pull her through what has been a very difficult time. Bottoms was hospitalized with chest pains this month — a problem that persists. She receives dialysis three times a week and has survived leukemia.

“I don’t like the way the world is going. Right now, it’s awful,” she said. “But every morning when I wake up, the first thing I do is thank the Lord for another day. I have a strong faith and I feel blessed because I’m still alive. And I’m doing everything I can not to get this virus because I want to be here a while longer.”

KHN data editor Elizabeth Lucas contributed to this story.

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

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This story can be republished for free (details).

Why Black Aging Matters, Too published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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dinafbrownil · 4 years ago

Text

Why Black Aging Matters, Too

Old. Chronically ill. Black.

People who fit this description are more likely to die from COVID-19 than any other group in the country.

Yet, older Black Americans have received little attention as protesters proclaim that Black Lives Matter and experts churn out studies about the coronavirus.

(The gap between Blacks and whites narrows over time because advanced age, itself, becomes an increasingly important, shared risk. Altogether, 80% of COVID-19 deaths are among people 65 and older.)

The data comes from the week that ended Feb. 1 through Aug. 8. Although breakdowns by race and age were not consistently reported, it is the best information available.

Mistrustful of Outsiders

Yet many vulnerable Black seniors are deeply distrustful of government and health care institutions, complicating efforts to mitigate the pandemic’s impact.

In Seattle, Catholic Community Services sponsors the African American Elders Program, which serves nearly 400 frail homebound seniors each year.

“They won’t open the door to people they don’t know, even to talk,” complicating efforts to send in social workers or nurses to provide assistance, Boddie said.

In Los Angeles, Karen Lincoln directs Advocates for African American Elders and is an associate professor of social work at the University of Southern California.

What this population needs, Lincoln suggested, is “help from people who they can relate to” — ideally, a cadre of African American community health workers.

With suspicion running high, older Blacks are keeping to themselves and avoiding health care providers.

‘Striving Yet Never Arriving’

In recent years, the American Psychological Association has called attention to the impact of racism-related stress in older African Americans — yet another source of vulnerability.

This toxic stress, revived each time racism becomes manifest, has deleterious consequences to physical and mental health. Even racist acts committed against others can be a significant stressor.

During ordinary times, families and churches are essential supports, providing practical assistance and emotional nurturing. But during the pandemic, many older Blacks have been isolated.

Meanwhile, social networks that keep elders feeling connected to other people are weakening.

“The hardest part for me [during this pandemic] has been not being able to go out to do the things I like to do and see people I normally see,” she said.

KHN data editor Elizabeth Lucas contributed to this story.

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/why-black-aging-matters-too/

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stephenmccull · 4 years ago

Text

Why Black Aging Matters, Too

Old. Chronically ill. Black.

People who fit this description are more likely to die from COVID-19 than any other group in the country.

Yet, older Black Americans have received little attention as protesters proclaim that Black Lives Matter and experts churn out studies about the coronavirus.

(The gap between Blacks and whites narrows over time because advanced age, itself, becomes an increasingly important, shared risk. Altogether, 80% of COVID-19 deaths are among people 65 and older.)

The data comes from the week that ended Feb. 1 through Aug. 8. Although breakdowns by race and age were not consistently reported, it is the best information available.

Mistrustful of Outsiders

Yet many vulnerable Black seniors are deeply distrustful of government and health care institutions, complicating efforts to mitigate the pandemic’s impact.

In Seattle, Catholic Community Services sponsors the African American Elders Program, which serves nearly 400 frail homebound seniors each year.

“They won’t open the door to people they don’t know, even to talk,” complicating efforts to send in social workers or nurses to provide assistance, Boddie said.

In Los Angeles, Karen Lincoln directs Advocates for African American Elders and is an associate professor of social work at the University of Southern California.

What this population needs, Lincoln suggested, is “help from people who they can relate to” — ideally, a cadre of African American community health workers.

With suspicion running high, older Blacks are keeping to themselves and avoiding health care providers.

‘Striving Yet Never Arriving’

In recent years, the American Psychological Association has called attention to the impact of racism-related stress in older African Americans — yet another source of vulnerability.

This toxic stress, revived each time racism becomes manifest, has deleterious consequences to physical and mental health. Even racist acts committed against others can be a significant stressor.

During ordinary times, families and churches are essential supports, providing practical assistance and emotional nurturing. But during the pandemic, many older Blacks have been isolated.

Meanwhile, social networks that keep elders feeling connected to other people are weakening.

“The hardest part for me [during this pandemic] has been not being able to go out to do the things I like to do and see people I normally see,” she said.

KHN data editor Elizabeth Lucas contributed to this story.

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Why Black Aging Matters, Too published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

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char27martin · 7 years ago

Text

Author Victoria Laurie on Writing Realistic Psychics, Penning a Good Mystery and Her Publishing Journey

Victoria Laurie hit the ground running with her debut novel Abby Cooper, Psychic Eye, and her career hasn’t slowed down since. She has multiple bestselling titles, and her latest novel, When, has been optioned by Warner Brothers for a TV adaptation.

When tells the story of Maddie Finn, a high-schooler with the chilling ability to see the death dates of everyone she encounters. Penning novels about extraordinary talents is second nature to Laurie, who says she herself is a psychic intuitive. We talked to Laurie about writing mysteries, writing realistic psychics, and her publishing journey:

What was your life like, pre-book?

It was sad—filled with corporate America, working for the man and really disliking that kind of a life. My brain automatically goes into story form all the time and to have to rigidly put it into spread sheets and dull boring meetings daily was a little soul-killing. It was very difficult for me.

I didn’t immediately quit my job after the first book because the advance was so tiny. It took me about three or four years before I could quit my day job and write full time.

Who were some of your favorite writers as a child?

Erma Bombeck—she wrote If Life Is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits? It was the first time I [read] satire as a kid. She’s a very dry, witty, humorous writer, who wrote about being a housewife with kids she didn’t enjoy. I loved how she wasn’t trying to make her imperfect family perfect and how she coped through humor. She influenced me more than any writer I’ve ever read.

Did the fairy tales you read as a child influence your fiction?

No. But some of my stories were inspired by actual ghost stories that I’ve heard. The majority of them just popped out of my brain: What can I come up with that is terrifying, keeps the pacing going, and can be tied to a mystery with people who are alive? The books all have a sense of justice, where someone is doing wrong and needs to be held accountable. You can’t hold a ghost accountable—someone alive needs to be held accountable. I love writing about those little moments where the hairs on your arms stand up.

One of Us Is Lying: Karen M. McManus on Her Gripping Bestseller

Is there a particular book that inspired you to be a writer?

Janet Evanovich’s first book, One for the Money. It was 2003. I had been laid off, and I was sad and depressed. I remember watching Janet Evanovich on a morning show, talking about her latest book. She had written about a dozen books by then. The host talked about the humor she used. I thought, I could use some humor right now. So I headed to the book store and bought the first three. The books were amazing, and her voice was very similar to mine when I wrote e-mails or letters to friends. Evanovich’s contribution to the cozy genre and the mystery genre—to mingle humor, and wit, satire and hijinks—she did a lot for the genre. [After I read her books], I called my sister to say I was going to write a book.

I am embarrassed to say that it took me days to figure out what my amateur sleuth should be. I was like, What could she do? “Oh, cool, someone wants an appointment for me to give a psychic reading.” What could she be? “Well, yeah: a psychic sleuth!”

When did you first realize you had psychic abilities, and how did you respond to that discovery?

It wasn’t just a lightbulb going off. I had to be convinced I had a talent for it. I am big on science. I love facts. Intuition can be backed up by odds, not evidence. I am right about 75 to 80 percent of the time.

There were small windows of my ability in my childhood. I remember asking my father at dinner if he was fired. The whole table looked at me, and my father was like, “No, why would you say that?” Two weeks later, he got his pink slip. I didn’t like it. There was a sense of Did I cause that? Could I have prevented that?

Now, I understand that it’s like a dial on a radio station; you pick up stuff. I met a medium who was jaw-droppingly good. She is world-renowned now. I convinced her to go professional. She was like, “I will if you will,” and we worked at a shop together… Word of mouth started to spread. People kept coming back saying everything I said was true. So, there was a slow realization of my ability, but no real lightbulb moment.

A lot of your speaking events turn into mass readings. Is that intentional, or is it just something that happens because you are a psychic?

That is totally intentional. I could talk about me—and that’s boring. I’m an introvert. I’m pretty vanilla. People love to hear about themselves. [Doing readings at events] makes it fun for me, because I get to make it fun for them. The range of questions takes me by surprise. It ends up making what could be a dull event more entertaining.

What do people usually get wrong in books about psychics?

I am so sick of reading about psychics who say something bad is going to happen—and there’s no detail—no specifics. Real intuitives are very specific. We won’t say, “Be careful at night.” We would say something like, “Have you had interaction with a man knocking on your door at night?” The client says, “No. I have not.” Then we say, “Be careful of the knock that will come in the evening. Keep your doors locked, look through the peep hole, and, if you don’t recognize him, don’t open it up.” We pick up on a detail and hone it down; sometimes we can hone it down to hair color, ethnicity, height or personality. I think that’s why [my character] Abby Cooper has worked so well—because she is very detailed while discussing things to come or things that have happened involving a crime. She gives a lot of clues, but never the answer. The tricky part of writing an intuitive-based novel is retaining the mystery while giving enough specifics to make it believable.

What tips do you have for writers on writing realistic psychics and mediums?

It’s a difficult task. It came easy to me because it’s what I know. Avoid all the stereotypes: the overly-dramatic, fainting, bangle-wearing psychics. Avoid the psychic who is always on the verge of panic in talking about difficult subjects. Intuitives have touched on difficult subjects enough not to have super huge emotions over it. Sit for a couple of readings from good intuitives. We have a similar language; we say things like, “It feels like this…” or “I have a sense of…” It’s important to discuss the physicality of how we look when we are reading someone. If you look at my videos, you can see: When I’m cued in on someone, there is a look that comes over me. When I’m giving a message, I tend to look down and to the right. Most good intuitives do this. When I did research on this, I was intrigued—looking down and to the right accesses memory. That is a telltale sign that you’re in front of a real intuitive, because they are tapping into something, energetically speaking, that feels more like a memory. It’s not something they are making up.

What tips do you have for writers who hope to pen a mystery?

I think it’s really important to get dialogue right. A lot of writing can be really stiff and formal. You want to write the way people speak and the way you speak. I think it’s so important that people read their dialogue out loud to themselves. Read every word, and try to take the stiffness out of it.

As far as tips for writing mystery, I’m a big fan of a twisty ending. I am a big fan of writing myself into a corner and seeing if I can get myself out of it. I think it’s important to make sure that you’re going in a direction that hasn’t been done ad nauseam and isn’t too obvious. Make sure you have enough dead bodies and suspects to make it interesting, and have an ending that the readers can’t see coming.

Describe your current novel, When, in your own words.

When is the story of the importance of realizing that our time here is limited. To me, it was important to get the message to young people that we have a limited number of days. I wanted readers to consider what their expiration day is and that maybe it’s closer than they think. Question the choices you’re making; if they are bad, change them.

How did you come up with the idea for the book?

My best friend’s father-in-law was dying of bone cancer. She was caring for him in her house. She called me, exhausted and depressed. She said, “This is unbearable. He is in pain.” I told her he would live through the holidays and die shortly after that. He did. He died in January. I heard a tiny bit of relief in her voice because his suffering would end. In one way, it was a cool ability in that moment to offer her a bit of peace, but it was awful to have to say, “You’re gonna lose him.”

We all know our birthdates, but not the day we die. I thought, Wouldn’t it be interesting if I had a character who could predict the exact date that someone would die? How would that affect them and the family around them? She is a young adult, so that makes it harder for her. I wanted it to be a mystery, so I threw in a serial killer, and you have When.

Mysticism, mystery and murder are essential in your fiction. Do you deliberately pursue subjects that involve these elements, or do they come to you organically?

They come organically, the path of least resistance. It’s easiest for me to write this way; it’s organic. It’s become my style. You can recognize a book from me.

Looking for a literary agent or wondering who to contact at a specific publication? Search WritersMarket.com’s extensive database!

Can you describe your writing process?

I head to the library Monday through Friday, from 1:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. I take a backpack, and I treat it like going to work. I crack out 1-=0 pages in that four hours, and I have a book in six weeks.

How do you discover your characters?

Most of them come from interactions with people I know well. Cat is loosely based on my sister. Most of my villains have shades of my mother; rather than spending time on a couch [at a therapist’s office], I write.

Tell me about your publishing journey.

Abby Cooper was my first foray into publishing—and she got rejected. I sent queries to 121 agents. A couple said, “Send me the full manuscript,” and she got rejected by every single one. My current agent, whom I adore, left the door open for a rewrite. I returned it to him in 10 days. I rewrote 11 chapters. He thought, since I returned the changes so quickly, that I didn’t take him seriously. He was disappointed, so he didn’t even open it for a month. When he finally opened it, he was like, “Oh, she did make the changes.” He offered me representation. I knew, in that moment, my life had changed. Abby went on to sell 250,000 copies.

How did you cope with rejection in the querying process?

Not well. Who does? It’s terrible. There was wine—me whining with wine. Rejection physically hurts. There is a quote that gets me through: An agent who rejected me sent a pamphlet that said, “If anything can prevent you from becoming a writer, go ahead and let it. If nothing can, persevere.” If I wanted to be a writer, and I couldn’t let the rejections stop me. Writers write. It’s what we do. I learned to take in the hurt, have a pity party, and keep going.

Looking back, is there one moment that you consider the biggest in your career so far?

I’ve been very lucky. Making the New York Times Bestsellers list was lucky. Warner Brothers optioned When, [for television], so my character Maddie is heading for big things. The one moment when my life changed direction in a positive way—and the highlight of my career—was getting my agent. It was an overwhelming feeling, having an agent who got what I was trying to do. He was excited, and he was ready to be my knight. That was the biggest moment—my favorite.

Did you celebrate becoming a New York Times Bestselling Author?

The day the list came out, I went to Starbucks at 6:00 in the morning, in the pouring rain, and had the barista take a picture of me holding the list up while I’m sobbing and crying. [Later I celebrated] with a glass of champagne—I had a bottle in the fridge because I had been close. I made the extended list a few times. The bottle has been in the fridge for three years, so I drank it. I was like, “Why am I drinking this? I don’t like it.”

Any advice for new writers?

This thing is such a gamble. Not being published says nothing about your talent or ability; it just means you haven’t found the right person to fall in love with your stories. Publishing is hard. Hone your skills, and keep working at it. Write a little every day. Keep it routine.

How has your life changed since publication?

In great ways. I have been able to quit the day job, and that was wonderful. I get to do what I love. I make myself laugh every day. If I don’t, it wasn’t a good writing day. I have colleagues that I love, like my editors and my agent Jim. They have become like family to me. They have enriched my life in so many ways.

What’s up next for you?

I’m working on a spin-off from the Abby Cooper series featuring Cat and Gilly. I am really in love with that now. I am writing a YA endeavor. I’m working on a fantasy series. It has a protagonist who’s not quite bad or good—she rides that edge. It’s a fantasy-based mystery series that has a mystery within a mystery. It’s told from her point of view in addition to a man’s perspective, and they overlap. I’ve also been thinking of doing another series that’s been in my head and won’t leave, so I am thinking of developing that—a sort of adult mystery, darkly humorous series.

How can people connect with you?

On my website: victorialaurie.com or on Twitter, at @Victoria_Laurie

Thanks, Victoria. It doesn’t take any psychic ability to predict further success for your stories. Your talent and killer work ethic will continually provide entertainment for your readers.

The post Author Victoria Laurie on Writing Realistic Psychics, Penning a Good Mystery and Her Publishing Journey appeared first on WritersDigest.com.

from Writing Editor Blogs – WritersDigest.com http://www.writersdigest.com/writing-articles/by-writing-genre/mystery-thriller/victoria-laurie-mystery-author-interview

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