#and then my mom giving me a feeble happy birthday and talking about how she's too depressed to say or do anything but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thesquidgame · 4 years ago

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i do give a shit

Summary: Five And Diego talk for the first time in years, (40 for one, and 17 for another)

100. “I have always loved you, and I’m never going to stop.”

word count: 1.1k

a/n: i hate this a lot, my intrusive thoughts kicked in while writing this so it's painful. i couldn't edit it. i wouldn't write it if it wasn't my first request (thanks btw! i how you like it's :)) i kinda want affirmation that it isn't gross or incesty bc my ocd is a little bitch. i know it's not but my head is bad.

warnings: suicide mention, abuse, trauma, scars, child death, death

~~~

Some people are meant to die. The lucky ones do. The unlucky ones are stuck living. But, most people in this situation, get the gift of death. The Hargreeves siblings (with an exception of one) weren’t as lucky.

The kids had always ranked their trauma, but at a certain age, they couldn’t repeat it anymore. And when their brothers died there was a piece of the pain missing. Diego and Five weren’t close. The golden boy and the piece of shit kid who cries at needles. Guess which was which.

But, out of the three “angels” Five was Diego’s favorite. When Vanya and Diego practiced guitar at two am Five would always check up on Vanya and make sure she’s okay. You can’t trust anyone in this family, and when he was a kid Diego thought that Five was a prime example of this (but as time went on it disproved this) but at least he cared. Not good at showing it, but still caring.

So, when Five disappeared, Diego didn’t care at first. But as time went on he began to see how the veil covering their fractured lives slowly started to get pulled off. The fractures made it shatter. Every year he missed Five more. Diego missed his brother.

He stayed up with Vanya and helped her make sandwiches, he sat by Five’s statue every year on their birthday, he mailed Allison a picture of her and Five when Claire was born, he told Eudora about Five the first time they heard a missing 13-year-old report on their police scanner.

So yeah, Diego missed Five. Laugh all you want.

So when a fucking portal opened up out of the sky, Diego was happy. Internally, of course, but happy. Still brooding and never talking to Five, but happy.

He avoided his little (big?) brother whenever he could. Acting like a divorced couple trading off Klaus in parking lots.

He wished he could’ve saved Five. Someway, somehow, tackled him to the ground and said “DONT YOU FUCKING ZAP AROUND TODAY”.

But that didn’t happen. And Five got more fucked up than any kid ever deserved to. Diego got fucked up, but Five shouldn’t have to go through that thing alone.

“Hey, dumbass” Diego was sitting in a bar, drawing his sorrows in beer.

He turned around to see his brother behind him, in his stupid uniform from when they were kids (even though one of them still technically was one). “Yeah, ‘bro’”.

“I spent 40 years trying to save your ass and you’re drinking cheap beer and trying to forget the only family you have.”

Diego traced the scar that left his hair missing on his head and wondered if this family was worth remembering. “What’s not to forget.”

Five unusually stayed in silence, and Diego could swear he heard a feeble me but then he snapped back and said “we’re the only thing you have left.”

Diego glared at the kid. “Okay, we’re leaving, c’mon, let’s go.”

Five glared back with a scalding gaze in his eyes. “Fine. We’re going home.”

He would’ve complained, but arguing with a time-traveling, teleporting, young old man, was not on his agenda.

He grumbled as he paid his tab, took a last swig of beer, and made his way out of the pub to his car.

He unlocked and started up his car, and Diego could tell that Five was pissed that he wasn’t driving. Good. No matter how much he wanted to remember, the drive home was muscle memory from anyplace in the city that sold alcohol. Just because he preached to Klaus about not messing up his body, he figured that he was canceling himself out.

Diego pulled the keys out of the ignition and sighed, rubbing his eyes outside of his old house. Five rolled his eyes and opened the car door “come on, let’s get fucking moving. I’ll have mom make us some sandwiches and cider.

No man, however strong, ever wants to go back to the place where his father tortured him and where he had to kill his mom (only to have her resurrected again, but still devastationg. Even though that was exactly what Five was making him do. He didn’t have enough time to think about what Five was feeling, he was the one making him do this.

“Welcome home Diego!” It hurt him that only a few days ago he had to kill her to ‘save’ her. No one should have to do that to their mom. Especially not when your mom was the only thing that kept you from killing yourself when you were 11.

“Hey, mom.” Now he gave her all the hugs he could.

“Mother, could you please make us some sandwiches?” Five so rudely interrupted.

��Of course Sweetie.” She said smiling at her ‘youngest’ son before she walked out of the room to the kitchen.

Diego grumbled and sat down on the steps, pulling out a knife and twirling it around using his fingers. Five sat down next to him and stared off into the distance.

After a few minutes of (un)comfortable silence, Five interjected. “I never forgot stopped trying to find my family, you know.”

Diego stilled his hands and responded to his brother “what?”

“Every single day for 40 years I tried to get back to my family. Through the scars and the delusions and the trauma, I worked. And now that I’m back no one gives a shit. The apocalypse is in a few days and my siblings are getting wasted and high. A thanks would be nice.”

Five looked at Diego with anger and sadness.

“You’re my brother. It’s just jealousy and pity. You didn’t have to go through what we did, but you also went through something horrible. We’re numb. After getting broken enough times, your just bendy.”

Five was angry, he stood up and started yelling at Diego, while pacing, which the man sitting on the stairs started playing with his knife again. “I went through hell every single fucking day. And your only excuse is that you sad??? YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, NO ONE IN THIS FAMILY UNDERSTANDS!!!!” Five was out of breath “No one cares about me.”

This made Diego chuck his knife next to Five’s head “HEY. YOU ARE MY BROTHER AND I’M ALWAYS GOING TO LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT! I care about you, and just because I can’t show it well doesn’t mean that you aren’t my brother and that I missed you! You are always gonna be my brother, which means that I do give a shit.”

Five looked apprehensive at first, then he gave Diego an awkward hug, which Diego then immediately returned, with an equally awkward bear hug.

“You’re my little bro, and if it makes you feel better, we’ll save the world I guess.”

#tua #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #tua2 #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #fanfiction #fanfic #grace hargreeves

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andrea-lyn · 5 years ago

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Hey! So birthday request 🎂☺️(I am Shameless).So I was thinking since Alex Met Michael ‘s mum,can you please do an Alex taking Michael to meet his(Alex’s) mom fic?and Kyle tagging along because now they are the road trip trio and he says he is Alex’s best man.

(I’m sorry that this is so much of a belated birthday gift, but a bunch came in before, but I hope this works for you even if it is no longer your bday)

“I don’t know about this.”

Alex glances to the passenger side of the car, trying to surreptitiously check that the locks of the car are on for the fourth time. After all, the last thing he needs is Michael tucking and rolling out of the car because he’s panicking. “Michael,” he sighs, glancing in the rearview mirror. “How come you’re not helping?” he demands, of Valenti. “What are you even here for?”

“The entertainment, mostly,” Valenti quips.

Michael is in the middle of what might be an actual panic attack and Valenti is about to eat popcorn. Alex pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders what he did to deserve this, never mind that he’d been the one to actually request this happen.

It’s Mother’s Day and after the disastrous events at Caulfield two years ago and everything that’s happened since, Alex didn’t think it would be smart to leave Michael alone on the day.

Maybe he’s just trying to fool everyone. Maybe it’s because Alex is going to visit his mother in person for the first time in years, because after he’d called her to ask about Jesse’s habits, she’d ended the call saying that he should come see her sometime.

He’d made a promise and now he intends to keep it.

It feels like if he doesn’t, it’s not only him making his mother upset, but somehow undermining Michael as well, who’ll never get a chance to visit his mother again, thanks to Jesse Manes’ legacy. The very least Alex can do is offer him something else, even if it’s second best.

His mother lives out in the middle of nowhere, off the grid. Alex had helped erase her information so that certain people (specifically his father) couldn’t find her once he got old enough and had tracked her down.

She’d explained it wasn’t the boys she wanted to hide from, but Jesse.

They’ve been talking lately and he’d mentioned wanting to introduce her to his boyfriend, which she had eventually come around to. Alex suspects that she’s anticipating another military boy, someone that reminds her of Jesse. She’s going to be so damn surprised.

“Michael,” Alex says, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “It’s okay. She’s gonna love you. You’re nothing like anyone I was around growing up. That’ll do it alone.”

“So, be the anti-Manes?” Kyle quips.

Alex raises both brows and shrugs, because, “Yeah. Kind of.”

That seems to relax Michael a little. Alex isn’t so sure that he’s as relaxed, but he’s burying it down deep. He’s never brought anyone home and it’s for obvious reasons with his father, but with his mother, it almost felt like cowardice. Not bringing Michael or anyone else felt like he could keep his heart safe in the process.

He’s not so sure he wants safe, now.

Pulling into a long, winding driveway, he knows that there’s no turning around at this point. They’re here and his mother is expecting them. To leave now would be an act of cowardice so grand, so awful, so terrifying that he suspects he’d have to go months without speaking to his mother as a consequence.

Besides, he wants her to meet Michael.

The three most important people in the world to him are within a mile of each other right now – mother, boyfriend, best friend – and Alex has never felt safer or more panicked at the same time.

“Okay,” Alex says, and parks the car. “We’re here.”

Here goes nothing.

When Alex is making his way to the porch of the little bungalow, Michael weighs the merits of running away. He’d have to live off the land in the desert, sure, but then he won’t have to worry about being a disappointment to anyone’s mother (especially seeing as he doesn’t even have a shot of being with his own).

Of course, there’s one looming doctor-shaped issue in his way.

“Don’t even think about it,” Valenti warns, like somehow he’s learning mind-reading tricks from Isobel.

“What? I was just…” Michael trails off, when he hears low voices at the porch. He straightens up his posture, aware that he’s not going to get out of this, and if that’s the case, then he needs to make sure he doesn’t fuck this up.

Michael Guerin, Earner of Parent’s Trust isn’t a trait that he ever thought he’d possess, but for Alex, he’s got to try.

“You were just debating running away. I’m pretty sure that’s why I’m here. Got to make sure you don’t make a break for it.”

He’s lurking back here because he doesn’t think that he can muster up the courage to get over there until Alex either deliberately drags him or his presence is requested. “I’m not exactly the kind of guy mothers like.” It’s an understatement. Michael’s not the kind of guy any parents like, from his interaction with adults as a kid.

Valenti clearly isn’t impressed by his little ‘woe is me’ parade.

”You know how hard it is for him to come out here and face her. It only happens when something is important,” Valenti says. “He doesn’t like bothering her, but ever since Caulfield, I swear, he brings this up on a weekly basis. He’s always asking me if I think you two should come out here and look. It’s mother’s day and he wants to spend it with you and with her.”

”Also, you,” Michael feels compelled to point out.

”Yeah, notice how I’m the one talking you off the ledge? Alex knew he’d need the backup,” Valenti boasts. “Is this about your Mom?”

They really, really, really don’t talk about this often, but Valenti knows the gist of what happened in that prison. He knows that Michael had lost his family that day and that his mother had been one of them. What’s been weird, honestly, is the fact that Valenti gets it.

After all, they both lost parents to Caulfield.

”I don’t want to think that she can replace her,” Michael admits, feeling feeble for the way he sounds as he speaks, “and at the same time, I don’t wanna be the ingrate boyfriend who doesn’t see how much Alex is doing to make this happen for us. It’s just, how is she supposed to replace my Mom? How can I even think that when I don’t even know my Mom?”

”You won’t find that out standing out here,” Valenti says.

Michael breathes in and out, staring at the daunting bungalow in front of him.

”Do or do not…” Valenti intones.

”Oh, fuck you, I knew showing you Star Wars was a mistake,” Michael groans, but it has the effect of breaking the tension, making him huff out a laugh as he nods his head. “Yeah, I got it. There’s no try.” He’s just gotta do this and he knows it’ll turn out fine.

He still can’t help worrying.

”Michael,” Alex calls, ducking out onto the porch. He’s smiling like the sun is shining on him and he’s waving for the both of them to come inside. He looks so happy and Michael isn’t about to ruin that by running away. “Come inside, lunch is ready.”

Valenti claps him on the shoulder, putting his hands on both of them like he’s intending to steer him inside if Michael doesn’t go on his own volition.

”You can do this,” Valenti encourages.

”I can at least try,” Michael admits. “For Alex.”

”For Alex.”

Michael sits in the truck, full of lunch, tea and cookies, still feeling the tightness of Alex’s mother’s embrace as she’d hugged him so tightly to say goodbye, refusing to let him go until he’d relaxed. He hates that he’d tensed, but his experience with the Manes family, outside of Alex, has been resoundingly stressful.

She’d been kind and warm and welcoming. She’d been the complete opposite of Jesse, and he’s starting to understand why she’d run away so early in Alex’s life.

“So, did she…” Michael trails off, hating how small his voice sounds. “Do you think she liked me?”

Alex gives Michael a fond smile. “She did ask when I was going to ask that nice boy to marry me,” is his wry comment. “She’s hard to put off when she knows that I’ve been in love with the same guy for over twelve years, not to mention the part where we live together. As far as she’s concerned, that’s inevitable.”

Michael feels his cheeks go hot, because he’d liked her, too.

It’s not that he’s ever had a mother figure to compare her to, but she’d been sweet and warm with her love, while also having a firmness and a backbone of steel – but then, he supposes you’d have to, in order to leave Jesse Manes, because that takes guts.

”I liked her too,” he mumbles, staring out the window so Alex can’t see the vulnerability on his face. “Do you think we could turn this into a regular thing? I know she doesn’t like coming back to Roswell, but I don’t mind driving out here, if that’s what we’d need to do.”

From the way Alex practically radiates relief and joy, it’s definitely the right thing to say.

”I think we can manage,” he agrees, tugging Michael towards him for a slow kiss that makes

“Come on, let’s hit the road,” Valenti says, interrupting that beautiful moment, hopping in the back of the car, arms piled with leftovers. “I saw a 7-Eleven on the way back and I don’t know about you two, but I’m thinking Big Gulps.”

Okay, thinks Michael. Maybe Valenti has a few decent qualities up his sleeve and his taste in roadside beverages is up there in the plus column.

#thougtsofadyingatheist #malex #malex fic #tumblr prompts #meeting the in-laws #road trip buddies!#roswell new mexico

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sidehowriting · 6 years ago

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Dear Sarah

A/N: Last fic I’m gonna post before my second semester of grad school! That’s so crazy! Also, I don’t have any more challenges at the moment so if you know any or have any requests/suggestions, I am all ears! Anyways, this is for @urbanhaz 1k Writing Challenge! Here’s hoping its good! I tried a different format.

Italics are letters (and one line from a tv program)

Prompt: Just breathe, okay?

Pairings: Dad!Steve x Daughter (?)

Summary: Steve writes his daughter letters while he’s away on missions

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, aftermath of character death, kinda IW fix but kinda not?

“Sarah,” her mother’s soft voice pulled her from her sleep. “Sarah, sweetie. Wake up.” Sarah opened her eyes, squinting as they were assaulted with light. She wasn’t a morning person.

“I made you some breakfast,” her mother said. Sarah focused in on her, now noticing a tray with a plate of pancakes on it. “They’re your favorite.” Sarah sat up and her mother placed the tray on her lap. “I wanted you to get them while they’re still hot and fresh.”

“Thanks,” Sarah mumbled, still tried. She rubbed her eyes and grabbed the nearby fork.

Her mother smiled sadly and kissed her forehead. “Uncle Bucky’s gonna come over in a couple hours to see you.”

Sarah groaned. “Does he have to?” She pushed the pancakes around on her plate. “I don’t really want to see him today.”

“Yes. He does.” Her mother’s tone was firm and final. Sarah grumbled and rolled her eyes, keeping her gaze down at her food. She heard her mother sigh and knew her demeanor changed. She didn’t need to look at her mother to know her mother’s shoulders had slumped, and she probably had her head in her hands. “This is a hard day for us too, Sarah.” Her mother’s feeble voice went straight to her heart. “We should be together.”

Sarah wanted to apologize but the words wouldn’t leave her mouth. She simply kept her head down, focusing on eating her food. The soft footsteps of her mother faded from the room, the door creaking close behind her.

As she ate, she picked up her phone. She stared at the dark screen for several bites. Did she want to open it? With a click of a button, the screen lit up and she was bombarded with messages from her different social media pages. It was a mix of news articles about the fourteenth anniversary of the defeat of Thanos and people wishing her a happy birthday.

She tossed her phone to the side, not wanting to deal with it. Instead she grabbed her remote and turned on her small television. Of course, it was on a news coverage station.

“…one of the most destructive days in Earth’s history as the Children of Thanos attacked. Had it not been for the sacrifice of Captain America, Steve Rogers, the casualties would have been much higher.”

Sarah angrily changed the channel settling for a children’s show teaching colors. Her eyes were stinging and burning as she hyper fixated on the little animal on her television pointing out all the things that were red.

She finished her food while watching the children’s show, not wanting to change the channel and see any more reminders. She set her tray to the side and snuggled back into her bed, wanting to just lay there forever.

And she would have, had it not been for her mother yelling for her. Sarah pulled herself up, quickly changing her clothes and went towards her mother’s voice. Sarah found her in the living room with Bucky, a brown package in his arms.

“Hey, baby girl.” He smiled when he saw her, approaching her with caution. “How are you doing today?”

Sarah shrugged, not really feeling like talking. She loved her Uncle Bucky. Deeply and truly. He was like a father to her. But today was not the day she wanted to see him. She wanted her own father.

Bucky motioned for her to sit on the couch with him. She did, her mother taking a seat across from them. “I know you’re not about presents today,” he said, pushing the package towards her. “But I think you should make an exception for this.”

The package was thick and heavy. She eyed Bucky and her mother, unsure. “I don’t understand.”

“Open it,” her mother pressed. “I think you’ll really like it.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and did as she was told, tearing the brown paper away from whatever was hidden inside. A solid brown book was exposed. She looked back to her mother and Bucky who both encouraged her to open it.

Flipping the cover, the first thing she saw was a picture of her as a baby nestled snuggly in her father’s arms. She continued to flip, eyes glossing over as she saw more and more pictures. Spanning from her parents wedding to just before her fourth birthday. Her dad present in every single one. There were also articles about him and the Avengers. Some she had read before some she hadn’t.

“Are these letters?” She asked as she continued through. “From dad?”

Bucky nodded. “He wrote you on almost every mission he went on.”

“He did?” She asked, taking in the page after page that started Dear Sarah.

“Bucky and I worked really hard to make this for you. So, did all the others,” her mother said. “Your dad wanted you to have this today.”

Sarah closed the book and held it close to her. “I don’t know what to say.” She bit her lower lip to stop herself from crying.

Bucky patted her knee. “You don’t have to say anything. Do you want to take some time and read the letters?” Sarah nodded. “Go on, then. I’ll hang out for awhile if you want to talk after.”

Muttering a quiet thank you, Sarah clutched the book to her chest like it was her lifeline. She scurried to her room and dove back under her covers. Flipping to the first letter, she started reading.

Dear Sarah,

There’s nothing quite like sleeping on a blanket on a concrete floor to really make you question your life choices. This is one of the things I don’t miss about missions. Sleeping and eating arrangements have always been a hit or miss and sadly this time it’s a miss. Not exactly what I had imagined on my first mission back from paternity leave.

Honestly, I could have stayed on paternity leave for forever. There was nothing better than being able to spend every moment with you. There hasn’t been a lot of research done on genetically modified super soldiers being frozen for 70 years and how that effects their ability to have children. We didn’t think we would be able to have any. That didn’t bother us. We were fine just being together. It was at our wedding during our first dance, your mother leaned in real close and whispered to me that she was pregnant. That was one of the best days of my life. Not only was I marrying the most amazing woman in the world, but I found out I was going to be a dad.

Ever since that moment you have been on my mind. At first it was that you were healthy. Then what you would look like. What kind of baby you would be? Would I be any good as a dad? Now that you’re here, I can only imagine what kind of person you’ll grow up to be. I love you so much, Sarah. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been. And right now, I’m missing ya like crazy.

For a while I didn’t think I would go on another mission. They just didn’t seem important comparatively. But Tony convinced me, and your mother supported me. So, I’m here, thousands of miles away from you and wishing I was back at home. It’s weird, thinking about it. I miss the grim and grit of fatherhood. I miss waking up at odd hours with you. Feeding you just to have you sip up all over me. I miss being elbows deep in poopy diapers. I had heard that becoming a father changes a person, but I greatly underestimated the extent.

You probably don’t miss me. That’s okay. You’re just a baby after all. Mom’s still there taking care of your needs. I know she’s doing a great job. You have the most wonderful mother and I’m so happy to have her in my life. She has blessed me with such happiness I never thought I would get. Or deserved for that matter.

It’s getting late and I’m nearing the point of exhaustion where I don’t care what I’m sleeping on, I just want to sleep. That’s exactly what I was waiting for. Hopefully things will go smoothly, and I’ll be home to you soon. I can’t wait to hold you and kiss you and tell you just how much I love you. You’re my world, Sarah.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I learned a new term today. “Old soul” Nat told me it means someone who was born out of their time. She used it to describe me except my soul is literally old, not metaphorically. It’s strange. I wasn’t really born out of my time. I was born in my time but then I was frozen for years and woke up in a different time. So, my soul is old but I’m not sure that’s exactly what she meant.

Anyways, that got me thinking about time. Sometimes I think about what my life would be like if I stayed in the 40s. What would I have done? What would I have accomplished? Would I still be Captain America? Would I have a family? I think about Peggy too. Would we have dated? Married? Had kids? Part of me still loves her and always will.

I love your mother too. I don’t want you to think I don’t. This is something we talked in depth about before we got married. She understands as best as she can without actually having been frozen for decades. Your mother is so incredible. Sometimes I think that I was frozen so I could meet her.

You’re the absolute joy of my life, Sarah. If I could turn back time and stay in the 40s, I know I wouldn’t. There’s nothing that could make me give up my life with you. Being with you, watching you grow. You amaze me everyday and I’m so lucky to be yours.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I got a video today of you taking your first steps. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to see it. You looked so adorable though. I can’t believe you’re walking already. It seems like just yesterday I was holding you in my arms for the first time. Now you’re walking, and you can say a few words. You’re growing up so fast, baby girl. Please slow down.

I was having a hard time after I saw you walk. I missed this major milestone, what else would I miss? I do want to be there for all your firsts. Bucky assured me that I’d see the rest of them. I’m not sure if he’s right. There’s a lot of uncertainty with this job. Missions just popping up, taking longer than normal. And it’s dangerous. While most of the time I’m pretty confident, there are days I think that I might not make it. I don’t want to die, and have you resent me for it because I wasn’t around. That’s my biggest fear.

This letter got depressing faster than I thought it would. Sorry about that. I just wanted to say that I love you and I’m so proud of you.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I just left the house not even an hour ago and I feel so guilty. We’re still on the quinjet, on our way to Russia, and all I want to do is turn the jet around and go back to you. You’ve never cried when I left before. Mostly you didn’t even seem to notice. You were either playing or sleeping or eating or doing something that was much more interesting then Dad going on a mission. But today you actually cried when I walked out, and it hurt much more than I thought it would.

I knew this day would come and I thought I was ready. Boy was I wrong. I’m sure you know by now that I’m a huge sucker. You pout your little lip and I’ll do whatever I can to make you smile. Tony says that makes me a pushover, but I prefer to think of it as A+ parenting. You’re my girl and I just want you to be happy. Yet here I am, the reason you were crying.

I know I mentioned before how I was considering not going back to the Avengers when you were born. And the urge to quit hasn’t been this strong since my first mission back. I love you, Sarah. I love you so much. And if I could just stay at home with you forever, I would. But the world is a big, bad, messy place. I want to help clean it up. And I do it for you. Always remember that. Everything I do, I do with your well being in mind.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

Tony made a joke today that I didn’t think was funny. He said that you were going to be a heart breaker when you got older and I’d have to fight away the boys. The whole team laughed but me. It’s kind of made me realize that you’re going to grow up one day and you might not need your dear old dad. That’s terrifying to me.

You’re going to become a teenager. You’re going to get moody and have woman problems and want to date boys. I wish they had a manual for how to deal with those things. I know I’ll have your mother to help out. I know she’ll play a big part in helping you navigate that phase of your life. I want to help you through it too. I just don’t know how good I’ll be at that.

I hope you’ll be patient with me. I know I’ll no doubt do or say something stupid (Bucky has reminded me of this time and time again). I won’t mean to. I just don’t have much experience with dealing with girls. I have no sisters and can count on one hand how many girls talked to me before the serum. I promise to try, though. I promise to support you no matter what and to love you unconditionally. Bucky assures me there will be times where loving you will be hard but that’s when you’ll need the love the most. Thinking about that scares me a lot. I just want to be the best dad I can be for you.

And I will greet all your dates dressed as Captain America. Shield and all. You’re my baby girl and I want all the boys to know that.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I hate when missions take longer than expected. I thought I was going to be home days ago, but here I am stuck in a crappy motel room sharing a bed with Sam. He snores so loud its unbearable. I miss the comfort of home. I miss waking up to the smells of breakfast that you and your mother had prepared. I miss afternoon naps with you next to me.

I still have the stuffed bear you put in my pack. It goes with me on every mission now. It’s a sweet reminder of you and what I have at home. Those little things keep me going when Sam’s obnoxious snores try to hinder me.

I thought I would have more time to write to you, but Sam just woke up and yelled at me for having a light on. Guess I have to go to bed now. And possibly smother Sam with a pillow.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

Radio silent missions are always the worst. And I know they’re the worst for your mom too. Its so hard not talking to her and you while I’m out. Even if its just a quick text to remind you guys how much I love you.

Your mom spoils me though. She always sends me so many pictures and videos of you guys so when I can finally turn my phone back on, that’s the first thing I see. Last time she sent me a video of you playing with some paints. You said it was a picture for me when I get back. And then you said you loved me. I saved that video. I watch it whenever I get the chance and I always tear up. I have the picture you made in my office at the compound. You have an appreciation for the arts just like your old man. You’re gonna be a great artist one day. I can feel it.

The mission should only last another day. As soon as we’re in the all clear I’m going to try to video chat with you guys if it’s not too late. Your mom will no doubt pick up and at least show me you if you’re sleeping. I hope you’re not though. I miss your voice. I miss hearing you say you love me. I can’t wait to come home and cover your face in kisses.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I love you. And I know I tell you that all the time, as often as I can, but I wanted to start off this letter that way. Saying I love you and I’m so proud to be your dad. I can’t put into words how honored I am to have that privilege. And I can’t emphasize it enough. You’re my world, baby girl. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.

I know I’ve written a lot of letters to you over the years. My plan is to collect them all up and give them to you as a gift one day. Maybe your eighteenth birthday? Or whenever it feels right. And I’ve told Bucky, Sam, Nat, and just about everyone else it too. And you’re probably reading this feeling all confused as to why I would take the time to write it all down.

There’s a real big bad coming. Thanos. I don’t know much about him but Bruce it scared out of his mind. He can’t even Hulk out anymore because of facing him. I didn’t know someone existed that could scare the Hulk away. After hearing what his guy is about, I feel like I should prepare for the worst. That I won’t make it back to you. And should that be the case, I want to make sure you know exactly how much I love you. How much I think about you during every mission.

If this is my last chance to talk to you, I want it to matter. I want to write everything I feel. I don’t want you to grow up and think that I just left. That I just threw myself into battle. Because that’s not it. Sure, before I had a family I just charged forward towards the bad guy, trying to do the right thing. But that hasn’t happened since you. Every time I’ve put my life on the line, I’ve done so thinking about how I was making the world a better place for you. I don’t want you to have to worry about the evil that exists. I want you to be able to go to bed every night with peaceful dreams.

I can’t lie to you and tell you that I’m not scared out of my mind. I try to put on a brave face for everyone, including you, but I can’t right now. The thought of Thanos making his way to earth makes me feel sick. We know where he’s going to go but my mind can’t help but wander. What if he does something else? What if he attacks you and your mom?

I’m also scared of dying. This is such a different feeling than in the 40s before I was frozen. I didn’t have then what I do now. I keep thinking of you growing up and getting married and having your own family. I want to be there for that. I want to see you grow and live. I don’t want to miss a second of your life and I’m scared that I will. But I’m even more scared that I won’t make it through this and it will be for nothing. That Thanos will still get to you and I can’t protect you.

You’re still so little and I know if I don’t come home you might forget me. Not that you won’t know who I am. Your mom has so many pictures and stories to tell you. But you won’t be able to remember me for yourself. At least, not fully. Your actual memories will fade as you get older and that thought makes me so sad. I don’t want you to forget me. I don’t want you to forget those moments that were just between the two of us. That weren’t captured by other people. Those nights when you couldn’t sleep, and I’d lay in bed with you for hours. Playing dress up and tea party while mom was out running errands. Those little moments keep me going and to know that those will be forgotten…

If you’re reading this one day and you’re older and you can’t recall those moments, it’s ok. I’m not writing this letter to make you feel guilty for growing up and forgetting. I’m writing it, so you know those moments happened and they meant everything to me. I want you to know that they did happen and even if you can’t quite recall them just know that I went on every mission thinking of them and smiling and missing you like crazy.

Everything I’ve done has been for you. Every mission, every night away, everything. You’re the most important person in my life, Sarah. I want nothing more than to create a world where I know you’ll be safe and happy.

I’m being told an alien ship is approaching. I don’t know if this is Thanos or not but it’s big and it’s bad. I love you so much, Sarah I can’t even put it into words. You’re my world, my baby girl, my whole heart. I hope I can make you proud.

Love Dad

She sat in her bed, clutching the book when she was done. There were so many thoughts going through her head. She had seen so many pictures and videos of her father. Countless interviews. But reading his words, words he had written specifically for her, was different.

He was right, she really couldn’t remember him on her own. She just had bits and pieces to cling to. Flashes of herself crying and clinging to her father. Wearing a plastic princess crown while having a tea party with her stuffed animals and her dad. He always drank his fake tea with his pinky out. Sharing secrets that were too silly to remember in the middle of the night. Sarah wasn’t even sure those were real or just what she wished had happened.

Suddenly, she was livid. Why would her dad do this to her? Why would he leave her with nothing more than letters to remember him? Why did he die on her birthday? In a fit of rage, she chucked the book. It flew across the room, hitting her lamp and knocking it to the ground. Both items fell with a loud thud, the lamp shattering into pieces.

When that didn’t soothe her, she threw herself face down on her bed and screamed. She screamed and cried and punched her comforter as hard as she could. Heavy footsteps entered her room, but she paid no mind to them nor the dip in her bed.

“It’s okay.” Bucky’s hand was a comfort on her back. “It’s okay, baby girl.”

She was crying herself into hysterics, her breaths coming out in gasps. “I… I can’t…”

“Sh,” Bucky cooed, “Sh. Just breathe, okay?” He rubbed her back. “Calm down. Breathe. Then you can talk.”

Sarah nodded, her face hidden by pillows. The whole while Bucky stayed by her side, rubbing her back and whispering reassurances to her. When she thought she was composed, she tried talking again. “Why was he so dumb, Uncle Bucky? Why was my dad so dumb and stubborn?”

Bucky’s laugh caught her off guard. She picked her head up, giving him a questioning look. “Sweetheart, I’ve been asking that question for over a hundred years,” he said, smiling at her. “Your dad was just an idiot.”

Pushing herself up, she sat on the bed next to him. She stared silently at the mess she made in her room. “My lamp broke,” she whispered.

“I see that.” He got up and walked over to the shattered remains. He stepped cautiously as to not walk on glass. He picked up the book and brushed the debris off it. Then he sat back down next to Sarah, passing it back to her.

Sarah took it, running her fingers over the plain cover. “Did you read any of the letters?”

“A bit. Enough to be able to organize them in the book. I tried to keep them in chronological order.”

She wrapped her arms around the book. “I miss him, Uncle Bucky. I miss him so much…” Tears were in her eyes again. “I miss my daddy…”

Bucky put his arm around her. “I know, sweetheart. I know. I miss him too. We all do.”

She continued to hold the book close to her, her cheek resting against the spine. “Thank you so much,” she said. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Bucky rubbed her back again. “I’m glad to finally give it to you. I put the finishing touches on it a couple months ago and have just been waitin’ for your birthday to roll around.”

A silence fell between them. Sarah didn’t know what else to say. There was still a lot going on inside her that she needed some time to process. Instead, she decided to change the subject. “Did mom tell you I got accepted to that art school in California?” Sarah asked, peaking up at Bucky.

“She did,” Bucky said, smiling widely at her. “And a full ride too. That’s amazing, Sarah. I’m so proud of you.”

“Do you… do you think Dad would be proud too?”

“Absolutely, kiddo. And your mother said you’re workin’ on a new project. Can I see it?”

She set the book down on her bed and crossed her room. She quickly glanced down at the shards of glass knowing at some point she would need to clean that up. Ignoring her future responsibilities, she opened her closet, showing the little makeshift art studio she created.

Instead of hanging clothes, there was a lone easel. It took up most of the space, leaving just enough room for a box of paints and brushes. A white canvas was set on the easel, revealing Sarah’s latest piece. It was a water color portrait of Captain America’s shield. The thick black outlines standing out and highlighting the pastel reds and blues within the shield itself.

“It’s not finished,” Sarah said. Mounted on her closet door was her father’s shield. Carefully, she plucked it from its hook, and brought it down, level with her painting. “But I think it’s starting to look pretty good.”

“It’s beautiful, baby girl.” Bucky stood up and walked over to her, eyeing the painting and then real shield. “I can see your dad hanging it in his office.”

Sarah’s face lit up at the praise. “Really? You think so?”

“Sarah,” Bucky said, “Steve was over the moon for you. Since he found out he was gonna to be a dad I can’t think of a day where he didn’t talk about you. You were everything to him. I know, wherever he is, he’s so freakin’ proud of his baby girl.”

She looked down at her father’s shield. Its reflective surface showing her her own face. She had been told she looked a lot like him but after seeing picture after picture of the two of them in her new memory book, she conceded. She did look exactly like him and seeing her reflection in his shield brought a new wave of tears to her eyes. And a new wave of emotions in her heart. “I’m proud of him too.”

Tags: @dsakita @xxloki81xx

#urbans1kwc #dad!steve #dad!steve x daughter #steve imagine #captain american imagine #steve rodgers imagine #dad!steve rogers

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ionica01 · 6 years ago

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TodoMomo Disney AU

@kitanoko I don’t really have enough words to thank you Dora! Whether you know it or not, you did help me meet some of my best friends out there, and since today’s your bday, I hope to return the favor, if only a little. Last year I started a silly coffee shop AU. Keeping the tradition, here are hcs to a Todomomo Disney AU that I will, one day, write. I hope you enjoy it!!

Part 2

Momo’s Mom died after giving birth to her, leaving her an her father alone. As such, the two develop a very strong bond (they’re the only family the other has left) and can’t imagine living without the other. That’s why, despite Momo turning 18 soon, she can’t even fathom getting married, and promises she’ll never leave her sickly father, moving in with her possible mostly improbable fiance.

Her Dad, however, wants her to start a family and be happy, and it breaks his heart that Momo puts him before herself.

Momo is content with her life as it is, because she lives the adventures she’d like to embark on through books. She’s read and reread every single book in the little library in her village, and often stops to chat with Aizawa, the librarian, who seems to be the only person in town not judging her for being a literate and asseritve woman. Not that she cares what others think - she’s fine being the outcast; it means no one will bother her and her father and disrupt their feeble balance with marriage proposals stemming from shallow looks. She especially dislikes Monoma, a guy who constantly asserts his greatness through meaningless acts and tries obtaining her hand in marriage like she’s some prize to hold in his trophy case.

One day, her father goes on a business trip (their town is too small for him to make profit selling clocks, which is their family tradition) and asks Momo what she wishes for. She kisses his cheek as he leaves and says, “Nothing, father. I only wish for you to come back safe.” “Come on, dear. Your birthday is coming up - at least tell me what gift you want.” She chuckles, shaking her head softly. “Then, a rose.”

What Momo really yearns for are friends, friends that won’t approach her for her status or looks, but people that genuinely like her and don’t think she’s weird, like the rest of the town does. She wants someone to talk to about books apart from Aizawa and her own father, and he wants to be respected. Sadly, that’s not the sort of present you can just wrap in a nice red bow and ship through the post.

A week passes by, and Momo starts realising just how lonely she is without her father, how dubious the looks everyone throws her are, how disgusting the stares of the boys in the village. She goes by the post everyday, the letters and cursive writing of her father being her only company.

But one day, the envelope doesn’t come. It doesn’t come the second and third day either, and Momo grows increasingly worried. No longer able to just stand by and do nothing, she leaves the third day, at nightfall, taking a horse from the stable and following the road she knows her father always takes.

As she enters the forest (never been there before, but knows her father’s stories about how beautiful this place is and that he’s always passing by a posh mansion with an wonderful garden) the night falls. The moonlight reflects off something and catches her eye, and Momo hops off her horse to grab the glistening object - it’s a watch on an old, golden pendant, one that she knows all too well. It’s her mother’s watch, that her dad always takes with when travelling.

Momo raises her eyes to see she’s in front of the mansion her father told her so much about, only to find it completely deserted - just like in his stories. Still, it’s her best shot, cause Momo knows her Dad would never lose the watch, he just isn’t that careless, and so she pushes the huge iron gates open. To her surprise, they’re unlocked, but their screech like they haven’t been used in a long time

Meanwhile, Iida (he’s Cogsworth fight me) rushes into Todoroki’s chambers, “Lord Todoroki! We have another visitor, and this time, it’s a girl!” “So what?” “What do you fucking mean so what you bastard?!” Bakugou yells, opening and closing his doors furiously (he’s the wardrobe). “I don’t care if you think the beast suit is cool but I fucking want to be human again, so get down there and don’t you fucking dare growl at her!” “I hate trespassers,” Todoroki seethes, closing his book loudly. “Why would she be any different from anyone who passed over the threshold?” “Just fucking GO!” Bakugou roars, and Kaminari (Lumiere wohooo) lights up Todoroki’s tail. “My lord, no offense, but you brooding here won’t change anything, whereas this girl might. Besides, I heard her calling for her father, so we might as well let the old man go.” “Why were you keeping him in the first place?” Todoroki asks, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Because, my lord,” Iida fixes his glasses, “I thought something like this might happen!” “Brilliant,” Bakugou grits out, “Now fucking get out.”

(Somewhat reluctantly) climbing down the stairs, Todoroki is met with Midoriya (Mr. Potts because there aren’t enough characters in the original story) and informs Todo, “She went to the cells.” “Oh, just marvelous,” Todo growls, storming down the stairs as Kaminari calls, “Slower, my lord, or my flames will go out!”

She finds a girl indeed, crouching in front of the cell with the old man and holding his hands in between hers. When she hears his footsteps, she whips her head around, and Todo must hand it to her: nobody has ever looked angrier upon first seeing him. There’s no ounce of fear as she looks him up and down, fire burning in her eyes as she says, “Who are you?”

“The lord of this castle.” “Why did you lock my father away?” “Momo don’t-” “He was trespassing my grounds and vandalizing my garden,” Todo lazily answers. “What do you ask for to free him?” Todoroki feels Kaminari poking him with the flamed hands again and holds back a growl of annoyance. He knows what everyone wants, but they’re honestly just raising their hopes for naught. Although this girl - this girl who stands up straight and stares him down - she may be different. “You need to take his place.”

“Momo, no!” the man yells. “Run away and save yourself!” “And leave you here? Never, father.” Looking at him again, the girl takes a step toward Todo, and he finally notices that she is shivering, but her knees don’t buckle. “I’ll stay here,” she begis, “as long as you promise that my father is allowed to go and you’ll never bother or harm him in any way, shape or form. No loopholes. No trickeries. My life for his.” “MOMO!” “That sounds fair,” Todo says with a smirk - this might be interesting.

With the flick of his fingers, the cell door opens and the old man stumbles out, throwing his arms tightly against the girl. “Momo, I can’t lose you!” she mumbles something Todo can’t make out as she shifts in his arms to hug him, and Todo turns around, stalking up the stairs. “Follow me,” he says, adding menacingly, “And don’t you try turning this around. A deal’s a deal.”

As such, after a teary goodbye Todo doesn’t stick around to witness, the old man is off and the girl turns towards him with a determined look. “Will you show me to my cell?” Todo huffs a breath laugh that sounds more like a roar. “Uraraka,” he calls, and a teapot appears. “Lead her to her chambers, and don’t bother me until dinner.” And with that, he’s off.

Uraraka does as inspected, stealing glances at a Momo who looks after Todoroki’s for. “What does he mean ‘chambers’? Am I not his prisonier?” “Oh dear no, you’re his guest!” Uraraka exclaims. “He just isn’t the best host, but we’ll take care of you!”

The room is dusty, but an old clock calls for a certain Jirou, and a feather duster waltzes in, “We get a guest once in a blue moon and suddenly I’m Cinderella minus the crystal shoes and prince,” she sighs, to which a candle holder shouts, “I’m your prince in shining armor,” he winks, the flames getting brighter. Uraraka dumps water on his head, “ruining his hairstyle” and eliciting giggles from Jirou.

Momo collapses on the bed and feels her view growing hazy. Soon enough, warm tears are streaming down her cheeks and she buries her face in her hands, sobbing rippling through her spine. The duster and candle holder stop bickering and join the teapot that hops on her bed. “Dear? What’s wrong?” Momo lets out a brittle laugh, “What do you think? I’m God knows where, with talking furniture, and a beast that has decided to hold me captive for unknown reasons and worst of all? Father is alone! How can he lose me after he lost Mom? I hate that I did this to him but what else could I have done?” Her thoughts swarm out of control and she takes a shaky breath. “I can’t believe I’m crying in public, this is so embarrassing.”

Jirou pats her hand, the feathery touch making Momo laugh, if only barely. “You did the right thing,” she says. The candle holder chimes in, “Yeah, and Todoroki is nice! He’s eccentric and kinda helps Uraraka pour water on me to dampen my mood-” at this, the teapot wiggled menacingly and Kaminari clears his throat “- but he’s a nice guy. He cares, you know? He only fed your Dad our best stuff!” “The grey stuff!” a voice from the wardrobe says, and Momo turns around to discover it is the wardrobe speaking.

“Why are you all guys-why are you all objects? Were you always like this?” They collectively shake their… heads, Momo decides to call them heads for lack of a better word. “And has he always been… a beast?” Another shake. “Have you been cursed?” At this, Jirou notes, “This one’s smart, I like her. Can we keep her?” “Am I here to help break that spell?” “Oh we’re definitely keeping her,” Uraraka adds.

Kaminari and Iida insist on giving her a tour of the mansion, and so Momo finds out that there are three cats roaming around the premises, and that Lord Todoroki personally feeds every one of them (“they can see beyond the scary exterior,” Iida contemplates, whereas Kaminari conspiratorially whispers in Momo’s ear, “They probably just think he’s one of their own”); the kitchens are impeccable, and Momo is subjected to test taste so many things she thinks she’ll burst; the main lobby is warmed by a crackling fireplace in front of which Lord Todoroki likes reading and enjoying his morning coffee (and his cups are so small, despite his claws).

And yet, it all feels very… Empty, and somewhat lacking, Momo thinks.

She doesn’t see Todoroki that day, or the next one, or the one after that. She tries knocking at his door but only gets angry growls, followed by an annoyed voice yelling, “Just fucking go out there, you moron!” and a roared, “NO!”

“What’s the point of me even being here?” she asks the humming piano in the corner, a cheery girl named Camie. “Lord Todo can be stubborn,” she singsongs. “And I think you’re confusing him.” “Confusing… him?” “Well, to be fair,” Ashido interrupts, “every other human who saw him ran away.” “It’s totally because of his weird fur. I keep telling him to wear a wig,” Camie sighs. “I think she was going for scary,” Jirou sarcastically interrupts. “Scary,” Momo muses. “It’s more like… he tries to seem scary.”

Anyhow, she decides to take a walk and clear her mind cause the sooner she breaks the spell, the sooner she sees her dad again. Kaminari and Iida accompany her in the garden, and as she marvels at the roses, she notices one of the cats crawling between the bars of the gates and into the woods. Momo immediately follows her because the servants have told her how these cats are the only company Todoroki has and that he treasures them immensely, but when she finally catches the runaway, she finds herself in the middle of the woods… surrounded by wolves.

Iida runs to get Todo, “My Lord, our guest is-” but finds the room empty and the window open because Todo was watching from the window and saw her disappear, and he figured she might be in danger.

Momo is cradling the cat to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut as the wolves get closer and trying to think but then Todo jumps in front of her and roars ferociously. The fight isn’t nice, and the wolves’ fangs cut through Todo’s arm as a pained groan rips out of him. That’s when Momo knows she has to do something and grabs Kaminari, yelling, “Shine brighter!” as she shoves the fire in the wolves faces. That makes them run away, just as Todoroki collapses behind Momo.

She carries him back to the mansion and instructs Kaminari to bring her rubbing alcohol and cotton tissues. Todoroki stirs with his head in her lap and Momo places both of her hands on his face, hissing, “Oh just stay quiet.” When Kaminari finally gets back, the alcohol warmed by his flames, Momo realizes none of the bandages is wide enough for Todo’s beastly arm and rips a piece of her dress to properly tie up his wounds.

“Why are you doing this?” Todo pants, turning away from Momo so she won’t see his face. “Because you saved me,” she simply responds, tying up the impromptu bandage. “Well that’s rich, considering I put you in danger in the first place.” “Did you ask the wolves to attack me because you re you a wolf-whisperer?” she asks, voice dripping with irony. “No, but if I wasn’t holding you here, you wouldn’t have wanted to escape, right?”

Momo bends over him so he can see her serious face and says, “I was out because your cat ran away.” As if to prove her point, the grey cat rubs against her tights and meowls. “I’m a girl of my word, Lord Todoroki, and I said I’m staying here. No trickeries.” For the first time ever, Todo sees her smile at him, and it’s dazzling. It’s been so long since anyone has smiled for him last.

Straightening herself up, Momo extends her hand. “I think we started off the wrong foot. I’m Momo Yaoyorozu, and you’ve been a horrible guest for these past three days, Lord Todoroki.” He looks at her bewildered, and Kaminari pokes him with his aflame hand to remind Todoroki he should shake her hand. To his surprise, she doesn’t flinch when his paw envelopes her slender fingers. “Todoroki Shouto,” he mumbles and watches as the smile on her face widens, reaching her eyes and sending glimmers dancing. “It’s a pleasure,” she answers.

They stay up till late in the living room with the crackling fireplace, Momo talking about the bits she’s gathered since her arrival. “I’m not leaving until I break this curse. That’s why you wanted me here, right?” Todo nods, at a loss for words, and a smirk pulls at her lips. “For a man who hasn’t talked with anyone else for years, you sure have a presence,” she jests.

He can’t quite wrap his head around her, neither does he know what to do when she dozes off way past midnight on the couch. Iida instructs him to carry ehr to her chambers, but she looks so fragile that Shouto just drapes a blanket over her and watches her peaceful face for a minute longer before facing Bakugou’s angry growls (he dad, after all, ruin one of his best suits).

This is just PART 1. The real Todomomo comes in part 2, which I still hope to get out in time for your bday:) Also I have to thank my glam fam for adding hcs to this (I should have a special edition just for punny kami thanks to @verdandys-art and a BakuCamie star-crossed lovers story thanks to @teenytraveler and @infallibleimperfection lol)

But until then, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DORA!!!

#todomomo #disney au #beauty and the beast au #todoroki shouto #yaoyorozu momo #lo writes #headcanons #hcs #drabble

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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Trixie and Katya's Excellent Playlist - Dancing on my Own - newqueenontheblock

A/N - Hello hello hello! I have returned from the war with a new series, thanks to be consistently inspired by @katyaapetrovna and @fleursverts who kindly share their playlists that correspond with their absolute masterpieces. I’ve been concocting my own playlist over the last couple of weeks to drum up some ideas, and it turns out that I’ve got so many that I can’t fit them all into one story. And so, behold - Trixie and Katya’s Excellent Playlist: a series of one shots in which each story will be based around each song.

This story is based on Dancing on my Own by Robyn, as every Scandinavian or European female pop singer makes me think of Katya, and this song is one of my all time favourites. Male pronouns and drag names on this occasion but this will never stay the same! Be prepared for a little bit of everything. It’s Willam’s birthday, Katya is in his feelings and Trixie has brought along an uninvited guest.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His drawl carried the last syllable about 5 seconds longer than was necessary.

“I’d rather not. Thank you for averting my attentions, though.”

“Someone had to, you looked like you were about to vomit.” Alaska picked his drink up and let his tongue snake around the straw poking out of his cocktail, letting it settle on his pillowy lips. “So, is this it now? Do we pine in the corners of expensive bars and feel sorry for ourselves instead of enjoying the samples of life?”

Katya turned his neck away from where he had been staring for what he could imagine had been over ten minutes to face his friend. “I’m not pining. I’m just… surprised. I’m surprised, that’s all. Intrigued. My interest is, uh, piqued. Enquiring minds want to know.”

“Oh? And what do they want to know, Kat-ee-yaaaah?” Alaska was getting on the fuzzy side of tipsy now, his drawl becoming more growl-like with each sip of his bright blue drink. He kicked his leg up in the air and lost his balance ever so slightly, falling onto his side on the leather booth seats they had taken up residence on. Katya would have found it endearing if he wasn’t so wound up.

“I wanna know what the fuck he sees in this one.”

Trixie was on the other side of the bar, talking to a guy. A new guy. The new guy. Trixie had propped up against the bar on a stool and was facing Katya’s direction whilst New Guy stood with his back towards him. Katya didn’t mind not being able to see him properly at all. He’d seen a glimpse of his face when he walked in and saw him burrowing into Trixie’s fucking neck and whispering into his ear, so he didn’t need to see any more of him. The other man, however, he couldn’t tear his gaze from. But what was new?

“Oh come on, he’s kind of cute. I would definitely let him suck my dick.”

“That’s not a high standard, you would let anyone suck your dick.” Alaska feigned outrage and threw a straw from his cocktail in Katya’s direction. It hit the floor, obviously. “Besides, he looks like he thinks he’s too masc to suck on some weenies. He’s looking at Trix like he’s a rag doll he wants to throw around.” Katya’s jaw clenched and he grit his teeth, acid seeping its way into his veins. His head turned back into it’s now natural line of sight, catching Trixie fiddling with the bottom of his flannel with one hand and swirling his Whiskey Sour with the other, eyes fixated on New Douche. Restless hands made for a horny Trixie. He remembered that well. “Clearly he must wanna fuck him too if he’s brought him here after two dates. Why did he bring him?”

“Relaaaaaaax, kitty. It’s Willam’s birthday, we’re meant to be letting our hair loose. Besides, this is Trixie we’re talking about. They won’t even hold hands until the sixth date. There’s no way Trixie would sleep with him this early in the game.”

Katya scoffed into his soda.

“Not the Trixie I know.” He winced down his drink as he realised what he had let slip. In the corner of his eye, he could see Alaska’s jaw swung open, off the hinges with shock.

“You’re joking. You’re joking with me!” Katya’s silence answered him. “You didn’t..?”

Katya glanced over and raised his eyebrows, downing the last mouthful of his watered down Pepsi.

“Escandalo.”

“I don’t believe this. I do not. When? Where? HOW?”

“In that order? Okay let’s see, uh - there’s been about ten…ish instances, all with varying circumstances and locations, and I think your mom has a pop-up book that will tell you all the basics of the act of lovemaking so I don’t have to.”

His left ear caught the sound of Trixie using the laugh he usually reserved for people he didn’t find funny but didn’t want to make feel bad and he smirked. He looked back up and his eyes met Alaska’s, which were currently bulging out of his skull.

“You just used the term love-making. And you were only slightly joking. I don’t understand what is happening.”

Katya laughed to himself. Oh well, he’d already said too much. Might as well have some poor fucker to vent to.

“I thought you knew I only bottom if there’s a scented candle or if it’s part of some sweet and nasty love?”

Alaska shot up onto his feet. The generic pop song that had been playing in the bar quietly faded away.

“HE TOPPED YOU?!”

Katya’s stomach dropped as he swung around to see if somehow, everyone had managed to miss the shrill shout that had escaped from Alaska’s plumped up mouth. They hadn’t. There were about twenty people all peeking into their corner of the bar - including Trixie. His eyes scanned through the dim lighting and he saw Katya for the first time that night; he’d been so engrossed in Prick of the Year that the only person he said hello to when he came in fifteen minutes ago was Willam.

Their eyes met and Katya swore he saw Trixie grip his stool to jump off and walk over to him, but he changed his mind before he could blink. All he gave instead was a feeble wave and an unsure smile as Captain Cunt diverted his attention once more with a brand new drink. Katya rolled his eyes to himself before turning his back on the happy couple to face Alaska once more.

“Well gee, Beatrice, thank you for sharing your testimony with the parish. Any other sins you would like to rebuke so publicly?”

“I’m sorry, when I’m in a state of shock I tend to get very loud.”

“I can see that. And for the record, we’ve switched it around quite a lot. I know he always says he’s vers but oh mama does he mean it.”

“I’m literally lost for words. How did I not pick up on that?!”

Katya shrugged.

“Honestly? I guess… we’ve just always been like this with each other just without the actual sex part of it. But now it’s there… I dunno, it’s crazy.” Katya could feel himself on the edge of a ramble, and he couldn’t stop it now. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about this, not even himself. “I’ve never had anything like it. Biggest high I’ve ever had, and I’ve had some fucking highs. And we haven’t even needed to have “The Talk,” it’s just sort of been what it is and that’s that. Back to normal literally ten seconds after. It’s been like eighteen months, I’m surprised no one has found yet. Especially you, he sucked my dick in your dressing room once.”

Alaska screamed, half disgust half amusement. Katya gave a half-hearted laugh back, brain starting to go into overdrive. Alaska saw the smile fade quickly from his face and sat back down next to him, scanning Katya’s eyes. He saw something, and whatever is was made his face turn down with… pity?

“Oh no.”

“What, Brenda, you so shocked that your anus has finally prolapsed?”

“No, luckily that still has a couple more years left before it falls. I can’t say the same for you though.”

Katya’s eyes shot to the floor, his empty soda can, the dance floor. Anywhere other than Alaska’s knowing gaze.

“You’ve lost me now bitch, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alaska brushed his hand against Katya’s knee, trying to find some way to rein his friend back in and open up a little bit more. Katya fidgeted on his seat, fingers twitching for the feel of a cigarette around them.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Katya motioned to the waiter to bring him another drink, pretending that she hadn’t heard him twice until Alaska coughed to regain his attention. He turned back to look to the left of Alaska’s face - it’s always easier to bare your vagina when you’re not looking someone directly in the eye. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“I would say there is a definite possibility that I have been in love with that man since the day I met him and I will continue to be in love with him until the day my rotted, ravaged body gives up and disintegrates.”

Alaska groaned, head leaning down to rest in his hands. He stayed there for a minute or two, head slowly shaking, leaving Katya alone with his thoughts. He picked the straw out of his drink and started absentmindedly chewing on it. Alaska glanced up at him, face screwed up in confusion.

“If you knew that you were really in love with him, like for real, why did you get yourself into this situation?”

Katya exhaled roughly, and realised he must have been holding his breath since he last spoke.

“I guess… I thought maybe if I just did it, my obsession would die down. You know what I’m like, I wanna fuck someone so bad for so long and then the second I take my dick out of them I’m repulsed.” He glanced back over to the other side of the bar, where Trixie was now introducing New Dick to Tatianna and Adore. He felt a lead boot kick him in the gut. “But not this one. This one had the opposite effect.” He kept his gaze on Trixie, the sight in front of him both calming his breathing and boiling his blood.

“Have you stopped sleeping with other people?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, Kat.”

“Yeah.”

“You told him?”

“No.”

“You asked him if he feels the same way?”

“No.”

“You think you should?”

Katya turned back to face Alaska. He could see the glassy look in Katya’s eyes, his pupils singing stories he could never say out loud, and he knew he was fucked.

Katya’s voice came out in a strangled whisper.

“I’m scared that I would lose him.”

Alaska’s shoulders deflated, oozing sympathy towards the blonde. He scooted over to Katya and threw his arm over his shoulder, bringing him into what he hoped was a comforting hug, and sighed.

“Yeah, I know that feeling sweetie.”

They sat in silence for a song or two, Alaska’s arm still around Katya, his thumb slowly swiping along his bicep. After a while, their peaceful reflection time was interrupted by a blizzard of blonde crimped hair and a foghorn voice.

“Heeeeeeeeey cunts!”

Willam was very, very drunk. And he was also the only one there in drag tonight, under his own orders. He slumped down on the seat next to them, dropping his beer bottle as he sat and smashing it all over his stilettoed feet. Completely oblivious to the shards of glass now making their way into his shoes, he grabbed onto the top of his wig and jostled it about, getting it back into formation, raising one perfectly covered eyebrow at the sight in front of him.

“What, we killing ourselves tonight or something?” He stuck a finger out and waggled it towards them. “This shit looks depressing.”

“Don’t worry, Barbra, no blood shall be spilt tonight unless it is for sexual purposes. Sweet Justin here was merely consoling Grandma over her recent menopause.”

Willam dug into his bag and pulled out his compact and lipstick.

“Mazel. Now, you fags need to get the fuck outta my birthday booth. I’m about to suck some dick.”

He started slicking colour over his lips and glanced back over when he realised they hadn’t moved.

“Let me phrase that differently. I’m about to suck some dick, whether you’re sat there or not.”

Katya jumped up.

“Yep, that’ll do it. Come on, let’s go and dance. Mother needs to knock her knees.”

The pair made their way onto the dance floor, saying brief hellos to friends on the way. Tatianna and Adore were in the middle of the floor, doing some kind of pre-choreographed routine to Holler by Spice Girls.

“Lasky, Kitty, over here dudes!” Adore beckoned them over with one hand whilst adjusting their invisible headset with another. They waddled their way through the thickening crowd and all embraced each other in a four way hug. Mel B’s vocals quieted quickly as the DJ pressed his microphone too close to his lips.

“Looky what we have here, ladies and gays - the rightful top four of All Stars 2!”

All four of them laughed, Tatianna giggling as Alaska threw his hand up and clicked towards the DJ booth shouting “See me with them croooowwwns!” Right on cue, Read U Wrote U came blaring out of the speakers, the now packed bar erupting into cheers and squeals. Katya groaned and looked at Alaska, begging her to take pity and let her go outside for just one fucking cigarette.

“Come on Kat, dance. Forget about him just for a moment and have some fun. Lose yourself in the

bop, Grandma.”

Katya nodded. He was right, he needed to let his rapidly thinning hair down and enjoy his night with his friends, and try not to think about the big black sky above him threatening to pour down any second.

His arms started to sway softly, muscle memory refusing to let him stand still. His body knew this game too well, and performance mode was kicking in fast. His hip muscles twitched, knowing they would be needed in a few minutes if he decided to pound his untucked pussy into the floor. For Katya, there was nothing like the release of performing, the way you could pour your entire soul out and only put the bits back in that you wanted to. It was therapy in its most extravagant form, and Katya got paid for it every night. It almost made up for the fact that he needed it every night.

The songs all merged into one as Katya flew free from the tension that had riddled his muscles all night. He imagined himself on a stage; not just a tiny box in an overpacked bar filled with twinks and dollar bills, but a theatre, the Opera House, Madison Square Gardens. He was Roxy Hart on her opening night in Broadway, a beautiful witch of a woman who lured every man with the sway of her hips and the wiggle of her shoulders, and killed them if they broke her heart. He span around in circles, faster and faster, trying to turn his rags into a gown with glass slippers, ready to go to the Ball and be whisked away by Prince Charming.

The clock struck twelve and the lights came up, the signal for everyone to migrate from the swanky bar to the club just across the road. Katya blinked, out of his trance. Alaska was making his way towards the cloak room, shouting back at Katya - “leather jacket, right?” Adore and Tatianna were grafting hard on two Hispanic men they had been grinding on five minutes ago, begging them to join them in the club.

Katya looked around like he had just woken up from the most incredible nap. He had taken himself to another world, and god only knows there were probably twenty people filming his questionable moves as he transported onto another plane, one where he was dancing towards Trixie.

Trixie.

He spun around once more, finding his stool for the night unoccupied. He couldn’t have gone without saying goodbye, right? He walked towards Alaska, who had finally pushed his way into the cloakroom queue and had retrieved their jackets.

“Thanks. Hey, you wanna go next door and carry on the party or dya think-”

He glanced over Alaska’s shoulder at just the wrong time. Maybe the right time. Trixie was five feet away from him; up against the wall, lids fluttered shut over rolling eyes, New Guy’s hands learning the curves of his body quicker than Katya liked. Trixie was sloppy drunk, licking the douchebag’s teeth before he slipped his tongue back inside his mouth. Bile crept up his throat. He couldn’t look away.

Alaska carried on talking, drunk and clueless, Katya nodding slowly to make him think he was listening. Trixie’s eyes stayed shut as The Leech was sucking on his neck, one half of his mouth curling slowly into the lopsided grin that always made Katya’s knees buckle. Trixie was pulling on his earlobe as Hannibal fucking Lecter was working on his neck. Trixie always did that to him, he asked him to do it the first time they were together. His now opened eyes fell on to Katya’s and they could have been laser beams for how Trixie jolted, pushing the bloodsucker away and telling him to get their jackets. His hand came up to his neck, trying to hide the newly forming bruises. They looked each other dead in the eye for a minute, Katya forcing his face to stay calm and resolute. Trixie looked like a four year old who was about to be told off for stealing a cookie by his mom and swear his dad said he could have it. The bar had almost cleared out now, the only sound coming from the muffled din of the people around them.

“I think I’m gonna go home, Alaska. I know when my presence is no longer needed.”

Trixie took a ragged breath in through his nose and opened his mouth. Katya raised an eyebrow, waiting. Trixie clamped his lips shut again as New Guy returned, slinging his jacket over his shoulder with one hand and slapping Trixie’s ass with the other. Trixie kept his gaze on Katya, pleading eyes asking him for more time.

“You ready babe?”

God, he even sounded like a total fucking asshole.

Trixie finally tore his eyes away from Katya, looking at the door instead of looking up at Prick of the Year. He nodded and let him lead him out of the bar, staring at his feet the whole time.

Katya turned to apologise to Alaska, but he was gone. Probably stumbled over to the club, he thought. He put his coat on, adjusting the stiff collar. Behind him, he heard Willam in his sex booth coming up for air.

“Ketchup! Has everyone gone? Good, I don’t like any of those fuckers anyway. Wanna come join?”

Katya laughed, for real this time. A few months ago, he would have been lubing himself up before Willam had even finished his sentence. Now all he could think about was someone else tracing over marks he had created over and over, taking journeys over curves that Trixie had sworn belonged to him in hushed moans in between his stupid pink bed sheets. He wondered if Trixie was picturing him when he closed his eyes. And he wondered what the fuck he was gonna do about it.

“Happy Birthday, you cunt. I’ll see you later, I’ve just realised I forgot to say goodnight to someone.”

#trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #willam belli #adore delano #tatianna #angst #nqotb #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant #trixya

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hellojalapeno · 8 years ago

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Preface: This post is the reason I started this blog over a year ago. I've been running away from it for probably longer than that. Yesterday morning on Twitter, I was triggered by the suggestion that there is a "recipe" for sobriety. I don't know this person or their struggles and I really have no interest in calling them out but I wanted to respond to the original poster but found there was way too much to say. It was time for this. I don't know how it's going to be received but it's extremely personal and I am writing it from my own perspective (it's the only one I have) so if it feels like I'm "making this about me" then I guess I'm sorry for that. I have to warn anyone reading this that this post is a bummer to say the very least.

My brother, Sam, was born 1 year and 9 months after I was. We were about as different as two children could be - I was loud, boisterous, bossy, and commanded attention while Sam was quiet, sensitive, sweet, and easy going - but we were best friends. To be honest, I always kind of felt like he was my child as much as he was my parents'. That feeling multiplied when my parents divorced and we moved with our mom 6 hours away from our dad and the only home we'd known. I felt protective and responsible for Sam and for his happiness. I had the typical "I can mess with my brother but you can't" mentality of an older sibling and leapt to his defense at any perceived slight.

I don't remember exactly when Sam started drinking, it wasn't like he advertised it to our family. I remember nights when we were teenagers and he would come home drunk. I, in my youth group fueled fervent Christian phase, would cry and write him letters in a tone I thought at the time was pleading and heartfelt but was probably more scolding. I can't remember giving him the letters - in all likelihood I just threw them away - but I do remember tiptoeing into his room to take off his shoes after he had passed out.

I remember my senior year in college, I bought tickets for us to see Black Sabbath at Ozz Fest. He took a train to Chicago and when I got to the station to pick him up he was wasted from drinking liquor out of a Scope bottle the whole way up. I had become a social drinker by that point and found the situation at least a little amusing, if not a tad annoying . We took the El to my school cafeteria where they were having a midnight pancake breakfast and where Sam kept disappearing to smoke cigarettes. He apologized for years for "embarrassing me" and for trying to smoke on the train. I know I told him I hadn't been embarrassed but I don't think I told him I had been much more worried than embarrassed.

I remember Sam moving to St. Louis with his girlfriend to attend college. I remember how hard it was to reach him during that time period and worrying about him nearly constantly. I had the distinct feeling several times that he was homeless. He later admitted that he had been at times. When he and his girlfriend finally broke up (for good) and he moved back in with my mom I was relieved but concerned about the effect of our small hometown on him.

I remember going home for Thanksgiving, pregnant with my son. It had been hard but I had come to terms with the fact that he was a problematic drinker (it was still hard for me to use the term alcoholic but I was trying). He agreed to go outside and talk with me and I begged him to get help for his drinking. I had a list of places he could go, fees they charged, types of treatment. I spent days researching and compiling it. I had written a script so I wouldn't forget everything I wanted to say. He wouldn't look at me. He looked like he hated me which broke my heart so much that my chest physically ached. I still have a hard time thinking about his face that day. He was silent. I told him I loved him and that I wanted my son to have his smart, creative uncle in his life. I gave the list that he refused to take to my mom. I cried and couldn't stop. I cried the entire nine hour drive back to North Carolina and for weeks after. I finally filed away my notes and the copy of the list I had kept and told myself I had done all that I could do. I told myself that for me and for my baby I would have to put this away and remove myself from it at least for awhile. Months later he called and told me he had lost another relationship over his drinking and wanted to seek treatment. I was wary but so happy. He had never reached out like that. I never heard another thing about it.

I remember when Sam got a DUI driving home to my mom's house. When he went to court, the judge told him he had never heard of someone having such a high blood-alcohol volume and still being able to stand. He gave him a ten day jail sentence and mom and I hoped it would be a good thing for him. My mom took him to jail to surrender right before his birthday, right before Christmas. We tried not to imagine him detoxing in jail.

I remember my mom calling and telling me that she had to take Sam to the hospital. He hadn't been eating and had been throwing up blood. When they initially went to Urgent Care, the nurse guessed he was either diabetic or alcoholic just from the smell in the room. They sent him to the ER immediately. Since Sam hadn't been eating and had only been drinking liquor, his body was trying to get nourishment from somewhere and it just couldn't. The doctors told him that if he didn't stop drinking immediately he would be dead in five years. To me that seemed optimistic. They offered to help treat his withdrawal and, according to my mom, he had accepted. For weeks, my mom reported to me that Sam was in a daze from the medication but I wasn't sure what it was from. I went home for Thanksgiving and on my last night there, Sam was clearly drunk. I went home and wrote him another letter begging him to stop. Telling him how much we loved him and that mom and I didn't want to lose him. Telling him that we would do anything, ANYTHING to help him. Feeling like the words I wrote were feeble compared to how much I really felt those things. I remember hoping upon hope and taking walks at night and thinking of what songs we might play at his funeral and begging God or whoever to please help my brother.

I remember Sam called me when I was headed to the store to pick up a few things for Christmas dinner with the kids. He told me for the thousandth time that we were the Addams Family and I was Morticia. He wasn't particularly coherent. I texted my boyfriend, Josh, afterwards that I hadn't understood any of the conversation. My mom claimed he had been taking the detox medication.

I remember being on a flight to Nashville with the same thoughts running on a loop in my head. Please get there in time. And the words no one would say to me and that I kept having to force myself to say - to my boss, to my best friend, to Josh - My brother is dying. Josh picked me up from the airport and hugged me but I couldn't speak. I kept starting sentences but not knowing how to finish them. I stared out the window and thought the same thoughts and hoped we would get there sooner but also that we would never get there. He held my hand. I cried. I told him angry, hateful thoughts. I looked into the night and just remember seeing dots of light and snow but not registering anything else.

It was late when we pulled into the hospital parking lot and I realized how much I was dreading seeing my parents. To my surprise, my mom had already called my dad and he was there. I dreaded them both leaning on me. I dreaded having to share my pain with them. I felt mean and angry. My mom was outside smoking when we got to the emergency room doors and she led us to the ICU with our hands linked together. My dad hugged me when we got to the room but all I could look at was Sam, lying in a hospital bed motionless with tubes coming out of his face. Everything looked so orderly. I don't know if I even got a chance to step toward his bed before a nurse entered the room. His words seemed fast and shocking and nonsensical. He seemed to think my parents had told me more than they had. You and your mother and father will have to make a decision....Not much we can do. He used the words "choice" and "decision" but it was clear there were no real choices and that there really was no other decision we could make. I felt like I was in the center of a crowd and the room was shrinking. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say but I felt that he was looking at me expectantly. I felt like collapsing. I already knew this was the situation but my heart wasn't ready. "Ok" I think I said, "Ok."

 I remember Josh hugging me tightly. I remember my mother's tearful eyes. I remember going to Sam's bed and being surprised at how warm he was. Staring at the blue geometric tattoo on his upper left arm. Looking for a place on his face where I could place a kiss. Noticing the blood in the corners of his mouth. Rubbing his hand. Not wanting to disturb him but knowing he couldn't be disturbed. I remember his breath and how even with the machines he would struggle from time to time. We left the hospital and, alone with Josh, it was hard to walk. I kept wanting to just crouch down on the floor. I told him I didn't want to leave and he told me we didn't have to. We drove to the hotel where I lay awake all night in the dark with the same thoughts in my head: Tomorrow. Tomorrow your brother will die. I still regret leaving the hospital.

The next day at the hospital the decision was officially made. Time was both too slow and too fast. I remember asking my mom if she was going to call anyone to let them know. "I don't want to. I don't want anyone here." She said. "What about his friends," I said. "He loves them. Don't you think they should have a chance to say good-bye?" She hesitantly agreed and contacted Sam's ex-girlfriend who we knew still cared for Sam a lot and she got the word out. The first person to show up was Ricky, dressed in his work clothes. Ricky was a name so familiar to me that I couldn't believe I had never met him. Sam had referred to him as his best friend so many times. I remember Ricky sitting by Sam's bed, staring at the floor. Others started arriving, so many I couldn't keep track. They kept vigil by his bedside as we waited for hospice to arrive. They played songs, they rubbed his skin with lotion, they cried with us. I drifted in and out of Sam's room, Josh standing carefully and steadfastly by my side. I sat outside of his room and thought terrible thoughts. You decided that your brother would die. That thought weighs heavily on me even still. I kept feeling afraid the nurses would come by and tell us we couldn't have all these people in the ICU - there were so many of them, crowding around his bed and lining the hall. Everyone was quiet - hugging, crying, and occasionally offering some memory of Sam. The hospital staff kept a reverent distance.

The waiting was excruciating. The estimated time that the doctor would arrive to remove the machines came and went and I couldn't decide if I wanted more time or if I wanted this to be over. My father kept questioning when they would arrive which felt like sandpaper on my raw emotions. Did he realize what we were so impatient for? I kept waiting for people to start leaving. This was a lot for anyone to take, more than anyone should have to bear. But they stayed.

Finally, the doctors and nurses arrived to begin. They asked if any of us wanted to stay in the room while they removed the machines and they and Josh cautioned us that it was a difficult process to watch and that it might be better if we didn't. I wanted to stay with him and I still wish I had but I knew if I did that my parents would want to also and I didn't think they could handle it. We stepped out and all waited in a cluster by the closed curtain. I had no idea what to expect from any of this. They told us that without the machines he might live a few days or weeks or he might pass very quickly.

When they opened the curtain, my parents, Josh, and I went back in and took places by the bed. I stood on his right side by his head. I watched his chest move up and down three times. I watched three last breaths escape his body, the last the most precious. Then he stopped. That's a moment I wish I had never had to have but that I would never give up. I don't know how long it took for me to turn around to be enveloped by Josh, sobbing loudly into his chest.

The next few days were raw as I began the process of saying good-bye to Sam. Two years later, I am still going through it and starting to realize I always will be. Sometimes the thought of that process ending makes me scared because it feels like the only piece of him I have left. Sam was my other half for most of my life and without him I feel half empty and not completely sure who I am. I am fortunate to have so many amazing people in my life - my mom, my kids, and my soulmates @ponystarwars and @juanincognito - they have helped me through and given me a reason to keep going. Sometimes I still feel alone in the world without my brother. Sometimes I feel like I don't want to keep doing this life without him.

Sam was incredible. He was NOT his alcoholism. Sam was kind to a fault. Sam was creative and talented and smart in a way I can't describe and in a way I've never seen before or since. Sam was genuine and thoughtful and introspective and selfless. Sometimes I think he was too good for this world. Knowing he isn't here anymore to spread his goodness makes me want to be better myself to make up for it. I am lucky to have had him as my brother for 35 years. I hope writing this can help me share more of him here and help me remember his goodness.

So in response to the issue of how to get sober, I know Sam and I know his kind heart and if there was some simple way to recover and keep us all from this hurt I know he would have done it. I know he must have carried a terrible, guilty weight knowing we were hurt by his drinking. I don't have an answer for this, I wish I did. Just know if you're out there, struggling with this from either side, that I'm out here too and there are more like us. We are not alone.

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