#because they were all associated with my mom. who was a drug addict. so anyone she knew or anyone we knew through her mustve been related

[computerpeople]

i feel like recently on facebook ive been like hey guys fyi. im transgender and autistic. and everyones like (flashes me a thumbs up) "yep! sounds right!" and thats so funny

[toournextadventure]

crow bro/bird bud here with questions, some of them for fun, some of them for possible reference for my fic (because I love easter eggs):

1: does Birdy have more positive male role models or female ones? not necessarily people she knows personally, but people she looks up to.

2: does she have a favorite animal/type of animal? has she ever had a pet?

3: do you think she'd have a favorite meme/vine? I'm thinking of this one vine where there's an owl making noises that sounds like someone going "drugs? drugs? drugs?" and in between it cuts to someone going "no thank you. no, I'm good. who invited you?". but I'm biased because that's my favorite vine, soooo

4: this might be a less common question, idk, but do you associate any smells with Bird/does she have a favorite candle scent? I'm thinking pine needles and cinnamon, but that's just the first thing that came to mind

-signed, your friendly neighborhood crow

Ooooh, these are exciting questions I am PUMPED

Dolly Parton is a HUGE role model, if Birb could meet anyone, it would be Dolly Parton because, duh. But also, Cleo Brown and Ray Charles; they were PHENOMENAL jazz musicians and she wants to play like them so bad. And after meeting Wedneday, Gomez is on the list too

It's a raccoon. She would kill and die for a raccoon. She hasn't had, like, a permanent pet, but her family fosters all kinds of animals when they're in between homes, so it kind of counts?

YES SHE DOES HAVE A FAVOURITE VINE it's either the "whoever threw that paper, ya mom's a hoe" OR "so no head?" OR "look at all those chickens." She loves them all. But honestly? Quotes vines nonstop with Ajax and Kent

Yes! My gf and I had this discussion. I associate Birb's smell to trees and dirty (you KNOW she smells like Outside), coffee (any kind of coffee cause she's an addict), climbing chalk, and laundry detergent (since she basically sleeps on piles of clothes)

[ghostlytravelerprince]

11/28/23

Dear Diary,

I've always been told that I have the strangest dreams. I think it's a primal human experience to share dreams with each other, just like how we talk about our days in our waking lives. But, mine were always particularly strange to people -- more like a prophetic vision than a dream. Though, if the concept of 'dreamcore' tells me anything, it's that there's many people out there who also experience the strangest dreams.

Last night, I dreamt about a black mamba in my house. I picked my dogs up off the floor, I scrambled onto the kitchen countertop as it hissed at me, sinking black fangs into every member of my family and then eventually me. We lay together on the couch, dying, and I looked over at my mother. I love her so much. Anyway, in that moment, I recognized the strangeness of the whole scenario. I was feeling defeated, and didn't even want to call 911 because what could they do for me? -- there's no black mamba anti-venom in the Midwest! And, then I knew that there shouldn't even be a black mamba in the Midwest.

I asked my mom, "Is this a dream?", and she responded, "Yes, it is,". I felt so grateful that she was being truthful with me. If I were a dream mother, and I had fleeting time with my son only when he sleeps, I might lie so that I could spend a few more hours with him. After all, it won't kill him? But, I think she recognized my distress at being in a dream dying to venom, and she did the motherly thing I know my waking mother would do -- she told me the truth.

And, I wiggled my fingers and toes violently in the dream; I know I must have looked ridiculous to my dream mom. But, I could soon feel my vision swim to blackness, and my cold fingers begin to shift on bedsheets. I woke myself up.

It's 8 hours later, and I'm studying in a cafe; I'm thinking about what my path forward is after all this studying -- after working in the ER. I wondered if actual medical professionals have ever watched Grey's Anatomy, so I Googled the question. A Reddit thread mentioned how the show never depicts the anesthesiologist: the last person you talk to before you go to sleep. And, I thought back to my own surgery, and how my anesthesiologist and I talked about red lining. Even on drugs, I thought to myself "What an odd conversation to be having with the man responsible for my life... I hope I don't piss him off with a bad political take...". Suddenly, sitting in this cafe, it's like I could see the marionette strings -- all the trust put into the sleep doctor.

So, I read thread after thread about why people chose anesthesiology. Each beat kept hitting the right strings in my heart; how they found so much pleasure in being 'the pain doctor' -- the one who provides comfort and sleep and all the nice, soft things to people in pain. How behind this front of a dreamless sleep and a dreamy awakening was a highly complex, well-oiled machine able to maintain a constant situational awareness. How there was a level of expertise and technique that made you an open encyclopedia for anyone who needed your very specific set of knowledge. And, how there was an almost intimate closeness with death.

To rest gentle hands on a living, breathing human being and plunge them into the deep, dark waters of sleep until they hover just above the trench. It scares me, that level of trust. How exaulted it would be to be given that trust -- I would be able to help patients with the highest dignity of waking back up to life. It would be the greatest way to serve a human being. I remember the moment I regained my will to live after a decade of depression; I remember what it felt like to wake back up from the lazy brink of death. It's colorful and beautiful and addictive, and I would be more than willing to share that feeling with others!

There were other things, too; lighter things. It was funny to me how a branch of medicine associated with sleep and painlessness had a similarly slothful reputation of lounging around. At first, I didn't resonate with this because I know myself to love intense, constant work, but perhaps other people percieve me that way -- how it may look like I'm effortlessly balancing things from the outside, but that's because I mask the constant calculations I'm performing to have it run that smoothly.

And, is has me thinking more deeply about my psychology background, and how we know so little about the true nature of dreams. What would it be like to study dreams scientifically? To try and put the elusive nature of sleep to mathematical equations? Could I even impress NASA if I studied how to put astronauts to sleep for long voyages?

All this to say, this means nothing at all. I dipped down into myself in the beginning, hovered above the trench in the middle, and brought it back to surface for this light, airy finish...

[hockeylvr59]

Collide Part 2 || Sidney Crosby

Summary: Life as a single foster mom and a pediatrician didn’t leave much time for dating. But when Dr. Erin Lancaster becomes the pediatrician for Pittsburgh Penguins Defenseman Brian Dumoulin's baby boy, her association and quick friendship with his wife Kayla turns her crazy but quiet life upside down. 

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Apparently my brain is just on a Sid kick lately. First a blurb update, now this one. Let me know what you think. 

Warnings: alcohol consumption        Word Count: 2,001

~~~~~

The weeks leading up to the holiday season were usually some of the best as a foster mom. The kids that I called my own, even temporarily, generally didn’t have a great experience with family holidays in the past and it was always exciting to teach them the magic of the season. The joy of watching the Macy’s parade and then football before having a big meal, going looking at Christmas lights, and everything else that filled the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

This year though, this year was tough. A few weeks ago, just days after my trip to the hospital, the seven year old I was fostering was moved to another placement. More biological siblings had popped up in the system and taking them would have placed me over my permitted limit. So instead, the rambunctious boy I was finally starting to make strides with was moved so that he could be with siblings he had never met, all because of the preference of keeping siblings together. A week later, my five year old was transferred back into the care of his mother who had successfully completed a rehabilitation program. I wasn’t sure the woman could be trusted but the court had decided she was fit enough to regain custody and there was nothing I could do about it. 

Finally, yesterday, my newborn had been deemed stable enough to be placed with a paternal grandmother now that he was completely off the drugs. I had done my limited job of making sure that he got elevated care and now he was in the placement I knew he’d end up in all along. 

It was the weekend before Thanksgiving and for the first time in a long time I didn’t have any kids under my roof. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t have any kids placed with me, it had been that long. Yesterday, it had been easy enough to ignore, I went into the office to catch up on paperwork, I picked up dry cleaning and went grocery shopping before drinking half a bottle of wine and falling into bed exhausted. 

Today though, things were quiet and now that the world had stilled around me, my normally thick exterior cracked and I found myself sobbing steadily. I loved being a foster mom, I really did, but it was heartbreaking to know that these kids would never be mine for one reason or another. That while most days my house was full of laughter and as much love as these kids could manage, days like today would always be waiting at the end of it all. 

While drowning my sorrows with a pint of ice cream I definitely didn’t need to be eating at 11am, my phone buzzed beside me with a message from Kayla Dumoulin. She had texted more than once over the past few weeks with worries such as whether Brayden’s cord was healing normally and whether she could cut his nails because he didn’t like the mittens but she didn’t want him to cut himself. Through our text conversations she had learned of my rapidly emptying house and her message this morning was just to check in and see how I was doing. 

She was such a sweetheart and I replied with a shrug emoji declaring that if sobbing over a pint of ice cream at 11am was normal then I was doing just fine. The phone rang a moment later and I sighed seeing her name pop up because the message wasn’t intended to make her feel guilty or anything, it was just genuine honesty. Still, I answered the phone, setting the pint of ice cream aside for a moment. 

“It sounds like you need some baby cuddles.” Kayla stated, the sound of soft chatter coming through the line. “Why don’t you come over. Brayden wouldn’t mind seeing his favorite doctor.” She suggested. 

“That’s sweet but I’ll be okay.” I assured her. “I don’t want to impose. I’m sure I can find something to do.” 

“You’re not imposing.” Kayla insisted. “Me texting you at 2am with a breastfeeding question was imposing.” Her voice was teasing and I sighed softly remembering being up with my own newborn when she had a question about hers since Brian was on the road. 

“Seriously.” She continued. “Come over, snuggle Brayden, and give my husband a second opinion on this bottle of wine he just got since I can’t drink.” She suggested. Sensing that she truly meant it, I sighed and agreed reluctantly telling her to send me the address. 

____

45 minutes later, I had cleaned myself up so it didn’t look like I had spent the last few hours sobbing. After putting on some light makeup, I had thrown on some black jeans, a striped long sleeve tee, and a tan pullover before deeming myself decent enough to head out. 

Plugging the address in my phone’s gps, I drove over to Kayla and Brian’s neighborhood, parking down on the street in front of their house. It didn’t even register that there were approximately a half dozen cars spread between the driveway and the street already as I made my way up to the front door. 

Kayla greeted me after just a minute and I gently teased that if I didn’t know better I wouldn’t believe she just had a baby as she let me inside. That made her smile, and as she guided me to the kitchen for a glass of wine I realized that there was a significant amount of noise coming from the living room. It wasn’t until she was murmuring for me to make myself comfortable that I realized the living room was occupied by almost a dozen Penguins players, football pregame on tv. 

“Alright Muzz, you can give my baby back now.” Kayla declared half-joking, half-serious. As soon as the goalie handed the baby over, Kayla was crossing the room back to me and handing off the little boy who just snuggled into my chest as soon as he was placed there. “There...baby snuggles.” She murmured. 

“Thanks.” I whispered, resting a hand over the infant’s back before taking a sip of wine feeling slightly uncomfortable as eyes slowly landed on me. 

“Hey doc.” Brian greeted appearing from somewhere else in the house. “Let me know what you think of that wine, not sure if this brand is a keeper or not.” He stated simply portraying the feeling that I wasn’t at all anywhere I didn’t belong and that this was a normal occurrence. Nodding I promised to do so before just focusing back on the baby in my arms. The physician portion of my brain noted that he was doing well and had certainly been growing while the rest of me just found myself relaxing at the feeling of a baby’s steady breaths. 

Most of the guys paid me no mind as the game started. Yet I felt one pair of eyes linger. As I stepped outside after handing Brayden off to feed just before halftime, a four legged companion joined me and I chuckled petting the Dumoulin’s dog Roo while sitting on the steps of their patio nursing my second glass of wine. 

The patio door slid open and then shut before a body slid down next to me on the steps. 

“So where are your foster kids?” A familiar voice asked and glancing over my eyes met those of the Penguins Captain. 

“With another foster family, with their mother, and with their paternal grandmother.” I whispered, quickly taking another sip of the wine to try and push back another round of tears. “The sucky thing about being a foster mom is they always go away in the end.” 

“I...I didn’t know.” Sid mumbled after a moment and I waved him off petting Roo and wiping at my eye with the back of my hand. 

“I didn’t expect you to.” I stated simply. 

“So that’s why…” Sid trailed off, stopping when I nodded. 

“Baby cuddles to try and make everything better.” I shrugged. “To fill the three new cracks in my heart. It’s been a long time since I was childless.” I whispered. “I’ve been trying to recall when it was and I honestly can’t remember. I feel like it had to have happened at least a few times but I really can’t recall not having anyone since I became a foster mom in the first place.” 

“How long is that?” Sid asked, tone softer now than it had been that day at the hospital. 

“Two...almost three years. I applied to become a foster parent toward the end of my residency.” 

“Can I ask how many?” Sid questioned. 

“36.” 

“In three years? That’s...wow.” Glancing over I could see the genuine shock on his face. 

“I don’t know what the turnover rate is generally but I’m fairly certain my rate is higher than average. I get a lot of the drug addicted babies because of my skills and they’re generally only with me 2-3 weeks until it’s safe to move them into a more permanent placement, often with other family members.” 

“How do you handle that?” He murmured, reaching down to pet Roo as well who had rolled over onto her back for belly rubs. 

“Usually I just focus on my patients, on the kids that I do still have with me because they deserve all of my love and attention. This time? Crying over Ben and Jerry’s at 11am until Kayla insisted I come over.” A smile cracked Sid’s face and he apologized quickly declaring that this isn’t something to smile about. 

“No it’s okay. You can find it amusing, I know it wasn’t the most healthy coping method.” 

“Are you going to be okay?” He inquires softly. 

“Yeah. Well, I should probably lay off the wine. Dumo has really good taste.” Sid’s eyes crinkled a little bit and he looked at me like be serious. “I will be. I mean it’s only a matter of time before I get the call that another child needs me.” I assured him. “I just...sometimes...days like this...they make me wonder whether I still want to do this, you know…” 

“Go on…” Sid urged. 

“I just...it’s so hard. Never knowing whether I’m going to wake up and have to say goodbye again. Constantly giving away pieces of my heart that I’ll never get back. Days like today make me just want to be a mom. Not a foster mom but a mom. To have my own kids who won’t be there one day and gone the next.” 

“I get that feeling.” Sid murmured after a moment. “Not the ‘here one day gone the next’ part, but uh, wanting your own kids part, that I get.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke before dropping his hand back down to pet Roo, his fingers brushing against mine. Immediately my mind flashed back to the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine and I quickly pushed that aside. 

“There you are!” Kayla exclaimed, popping her head out the door, her eyes shifting back and forth between you and Sid and noting how close you were sitting. “We just put out some food if you’re hungry and want something other than ice cream.” She grinned, dipping back inside looking like she was about to burst with what she just saw even if it was absolutely nothing. 

When Sid stood he offered a hand out to help you up, murmuring for Roo to come inside and he’d see if he could find her a treat. The bulldog was eager for that and followed after him as you brushed yourself off and picked your wine glass up moving to rejoin the group. 

Ridding of your buzz with some food and water and more baby snuggles you finally headed home with the feeling that there was something more to your conversation with Sid that you hadn’t put your finger on.

Outfit: 

[cakesunflower]

Outer Banks Series Rewrite/JJ Maybank Fic Series [5. Midsummers]

Disclaimer: None of the characters (except for Stella) or their dialogues (for the most part) are my own, and belong to the writers & creators of Outer Banks!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read on AO3!

Here’s episode 5 “Midsummers”!

“Dude—Mom catches you out here, and you’re dead.” Stella peeked one eye open, catching sight of her sister standing over her, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised. “You’re literally out in the open.”

Kie’s concern came from the pen Stella was currently twirling between her fingers as she lay on the ground in their backyard. Stella didn’t say anything, instead took another pull from the pen, letting the familiar smoke invade her lungs before blowing it out slowly. The act did its job in calming her down, and Kiara let out a sigh before shifting to sit down next to Stella, before going down on her back, too.

Stella could feel her sister’s gaze on her as Kie turned her head to look at her, but Stella kept her gaze up at the sky. It was sort of cloudy, but there wasn’t a threat for rain. If there had been, the celebration later tonight would’ve been rescheduled ages ago.

“Look, I know you’re worried about JJ—” Kie began, but Stella cut her off.

“He willingly let himself get arrested for something he didn’t do, and he has a drug-addict, abusive dad to go back home to. We haven’t heard from him yet.” Stella looked at Kie, then, jaw hard. “Of course I’m worried.”

Kie’s gaze was soft with sympathy, but Stella could see her own concern swimming, too. After all, Kie cared about JJ as well. Maybe not in the way Stella did, but just as good. “He’ll turn up,” Kie assured. “He always does.”

Despite Kie’s efforts, Stella wasn’t all that comforted. And maybe Kie saw the deep worry that had etched itself into Stella’s features, because Kie’s face softened even more, looking at her sister gently as she asked, “What’s going on?”

Stella’s throat worked as her heart drummed in her chest, forcing herself into a sitting position while Kie kept on her back, looking up at her. For a moment, Stella hesitantly chewed on her lower lip, wondering if now was the right time to indulge, but it was Kie. It was her sister, and if Stella couldn’t tell her, she couldn’t tell anyone.

“JJ and I kissed.” There. She said it. Now it was out in the open.

Kie blinked once before her eyes widened almost comically, shooting up in a sitting position opposite of Stella as she demanded, “What? When?”

“Yesterday,” Stella admitted, stomach flipping as memories of her and JJ’s actions played through her mind like her favorite movie. She couldn’t stop the small smile from playing on her lips. “We were at John B’s, before coming to the summer series.” She fiddled with the pen between her fingers. “It just—it kind of just happened.”

Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “It didn’t kind of just happen,” she mocked. “This has been waiting to happen for so Goddamn long.” Stella tried not to laugh at the happiness shining in Kie’s eyes, which did a lot to relax Stella. She’d been worried Kie would ram on her for breaking one of their friend group rules, but Kie seemed anything but disappointed. Her eyes widened then, shoulders lifting. “Oh, shit, John B and Pope owe me twenty bucks!”

Stella blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Kie snickered, looking all too delighted. “We kind of had a bet going on over how long it’d take for you and JJ to get together.” Stella’s eyes widened, jaw dropping in disbelief. “I bet it’d happen before Midsummers and would you look at that! You just made me forty bucks richer, sis.”

“Wha—” Stella cut herself off with a scoff, ripping up some grass before tossing it at Kie. She shrieked through a laugh, jerking back before brushing away the pieces of grass. “Are you kidding me?! You guys bet on us?”

“Of course we did,” Kie responded with a smirk, not at all looking apologetic. At Stella’s gaping expression, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Stel. You two have been dancing around each other for so fucking long. We were getting tired of waiting, so we thought we’d have some fun with it,” she finished with a shrug.

Stella couldn’t believe what she was hearing, cheeks heating up at the information. She wasn’t mad or upset that her sister and friends bet on when she and JJ would get together—she was just surprised, and a little bit amused. She wondered how long the bet had been going on for. But instead of asking that, she instead inquired, “So I’m guessing JJ and I are in the clear for breaking the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule?”

Kie waved her off, smile still in place. “You two are the exception to the rule,” she said confidently before crossing her legs and shooting Stella an expectant look. “So? Tell me how it was.” She quickly held a hand up. “But not too many details because it’s JJ and he’s like my brother and, ew, gross. But I still wanna know! How’d it happen?”

At that, the heat in Stella’s cheeks intensified into a fire as she recalled every single detail from yesterday—as if she could ever forget. “I was, uh, persuading him to come to the summer series with us.”

Kie’s eyebrows shot up. “Persuading, huh?” she repeated with an impish grin, prompting Stella to let out a giggle. “Well, looks like it worked. Not that I’m surprised. That boy is stupid for you.”

Stella pressed her lips together to keep her giddy smile from widening. “Stop.”

Kie snickered. “Man, you two are gonna be unbearable now, aren’t you? All over each other all of the time.”

“Dude, I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Stella instantly responded with a shake of her head. “All we did was kiss. We’re not suddenly together, Kie.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Only a matter of time.”

Stella’s heart fluttered in her chest. Of course she wanted to be with JJ—it was all she could think about for so long. After that kiss, it was closer to being a reality than she could ever imagine, but they needed to talk about it, first. “Maybe. But first he needs to let us know he’s okay and that his dad didn’t fucking kill him.”

Her words were tight in her throat as she said them, sending a new jolt of worry through her. JJ never really talked about it, but she knew the kind of man his dad was, knew what he was capable of. JJ getting arrested wasn’t going to go over well; it wouldn’t with any parent, but God only knew how Luke Maybank would react to it. So, yeah, Stella was sick with worry over JJ, and she just fucking wished he’d call or text her back.

Kie sighed. “Listen, maybe—”

Whatever Kie was about to say was interrupted by their mother’s voice shouting at them from the back porch. “Girls! Get in here! You need to start getting ready.” Simultaneously, both Stella and Kie threw their heads back and groaned, loudly—loud enough for Mrs. Carrera to hear them. “I don’t wanna hear it! Get your butts in here now!”

They stood up, and as Stella shoved her pen in the pocket of her shorts, Kie grumbled, “I hate everything.”

While every other soul on Figure Eight either was overjoyed to be attending Midsummers or envious that they couldn’t, Stella and Kiara were probably the only ones who hated the party. For Kie, it was more of a socialist thing that Stella respected her for, but she also knew that her sister’s disgust with Midsummers, ultimately, existed for the same reason as Stella’s: they hated the people they were surrounded by.

All of the Kooks would be gathered tonight for the party—this year a celebration for Ward Cameron, A.K.A the father of Sarah Cameron, Kie’s worst enemy. Stella didn’t care what the party was for—she despised it. The most Stella liked to dress up was in clothes of her choice, and sure that could sometimes include make-up and dresses, but not full on evening gowns with flowers in her hair. It often felt like she was getting dressed up as a lamb for a slaughter, being pushed into a crowd of Kooks who thought they were better than everyone else because of their overflowing pockets. The adults were bad enough—Stella did not want to even see the people her age.

Namely Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and anyone who was associated with them. Especially after what they did to JJ and Pope yesterday. Dicks.

But Midsummers, much to both Stella and Kie’s chagrin, was important to their parents, especially their mother. So as soon as the two girls returned inside the house, Mrs. Carrera was ushering them towards the bathrooms, like they were toddlers who needed supervised bath times.

“Hold on a second—” Mr. Carrera paused, and Stella and Kie exchanged looks when their mom sniffed the air around them. Her eyes then zeroed in on Stella, hands on her hips and eyes blazing as she demanded, “Did you just smoke, Stella?”

Knowing there was no point in lying, Stella huffed. “I needed something to take the edge off if I have to go to this stupid party.”

This wasn’t the first time their mom caught them smoking or smelling of weed, but it pissed her off just the same. While Kie tried to stifle a smile, Mrs. Carrera glared daggers at her Stella. “You’re not getting out of this, Stella. You better drown yourself in body wash and perfume when you get ready.”

Stella rolled her eyes behind her mom’s back, but listened all the same, albeit reluctantly. Kie was the first to hop into the shower in their shared bathroom, so Stella took the time to lay in her bed and unlock her phone, hoping to see a text or missed call from JJ. Her heart jumped when she saw just one text from him, chest tight as she read it quickly.

JJ: Don’t worry about me. I’m good. I’ll see u later.

That was it. Just ten words of reassurance and then nothing. Part of Stella was relieved to have received anything from him at all, but another part still felt worried and a little annoyed. She—all of them—had been worried sick over him after yesterday, and this was all he could say? Stella figured she shouldn’t be too surprised. It was typical JJ behavior. He got in a bind and somehow got himself out of it, and never really let his friends in on if anything was wrong. But the tough guy persona could only get him so far.

Chewing on her lower lip, Stella drafted a text, but not to JJ. Instead, she sent a message to John B.

Stella: You heard from JJ? Do you think he’s okay?

John B responded within moments.

John B: Yeah, it’s all good. I’m with him right now. We’ll see you guys tonight, alright? Keep an eye out.

Stella blinked at the cryptic message, wondering what the hell he was talking about. But if recent circumstances were any indicator, something was probably going down tonight. Stella’s stomach flipped in both apprehension and excitement. These boys might be the death of her.

Soon enough, Kie was out of the bathroom and it was Stella’s turn. She showered and brushed her teeth, stepping back into her room to catch sight of a satin slip dress with a halter neck waiting for her on her bed. It was a pretty golden color with a V-neck trimmed with lace, and a pair of white and gold sandals were waiting by the bed, too. Stella huffed, the towel wrapped tightly around her. She knew for a fact that her mother thought she needed to have everything out for her otherwise Stella would be useless in getting dressed for Midsummers. It was kind of insulting.

Stella expertly dried her hair, letting the natural curls come into place, before doing her makeup. She kept it light, as always, because not even Midsummers was going to make her slap on a face full of makeup, especially in the middle of summer. Some foundation, mascara, highlighter, and lipstick was as far as she went, with her jewelry consisting of a dainty diamond star necklace and the rings on her fingers.

“Oh, good, you’re dressed,” Mrs. Carrera said upon entering her room. “Come on, let me do your hair.”

Stella frowned but listened, sitting down in front of her dresser while her mom stood behind her. She worked quickly and efficiently, braiding back the two front locks of her hair and intertwining small yellow flowers in them that Stella tried not to wrinkle her nose at.

As her mom worked, Kie wandered into Stella’s room. Her slip dress was spaghetti strapped and a lavender color, a couple of layered necklaces around her neck, and her hair down in an updo with a crown of pink and purple flowers and locks of curly hair framing her face. She looked stunning, even with that scowl she wore as she stormed into the room.

“This is disgusting,” she announced without preamble.

Mrs. Carrera wove another flower into Stella’s braid, her voice dry above her as she responded, “I know. It’s just horrible. I’m asking you two to relax and go to a fun party.”

Kie scoffed, towering over their mom. They may be twins, but Kie somehow got the tall gene from their dad, standing at the elegant 5’8”, while Stella hadn’t grown past 5’5”. “We look like bourgeoisie pigs.”

Stella tried to keep the snort from escaping, covering it up with a cough as their mom finally patted down Stella’s hair, letting out a satisfied hum before stepping back. She shot Kie an exasperated look and said, “Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?”

Kie scowled and Stella’s face scrunched up. This was so much more than that. She twisted around in the seat and stood up, crossing her arms and siding with Kie, “Mom, people not three miles from here have no power, no running water—and we’re going to Midsummers.”

Kie nodded vigorously, gesturing to Stella. “That’s so tone deaf.”

Mrs. Carrera huffed, picking up the little pouch she’d dropped on the dressing table and pulling out the diamond earrings. As she put one in, she said, “Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island Club?”

Both Stella and Kie rolled their eyes, having heard this a hundred times before. “Yeah, Mom, how could we forget?” Stella sighed. “You had to grovel for, like, ten years—”

“Twelve,” Mrs. Carrera corrected, “and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough, and do you know why we did that?”

Kie wasn’t impressed. “To keep up with the Joneses?”

Mrs. Carrera’s hands were on her hips, looking at her daughter pointedly. “No. So you two could have the experiences that I had as a child. Sweethearts, do you know what the Island Club is?”

“A factory farm for debutantes,” Kie flatly said at the same time Stella said, “Where brain cells go to die.”

Kie gave her a subtle fist bump as their mother glared at them before smiling exasperatedly. She placed one hand on each of their cheeks, looking at both of them as she said, “It is a nice place, with nice people, where you can do fun stuff.”

Neither of them bought the company line. “With out of touch rich people,” Stella added.

Kie rightfully finished, “While the island sinks slowly into the ocean.”

Their mom dropped her hands from their cheeks, stepping back and shooting them a look. Clearly, she was done trying with her stubborn daughters. “Okay, I want you two to put on your party faces if you wanna live,” she said before walking out of the room.

Both Stella and Kie sighed, looking at each other in resigned defeat. Stella picked up her pen, offering a half hearted smile. “Wanna take a hit before we go?”

Kie scoffed, taking it from her. “Or maybe ten.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the girls were at the Island Club with their parents, and instead of doing the polite thing and greeting the other party goers, Stella spotted a familiar face and grabbed Kie’s hand, jerking her chin to where Pope was working out on the lawn at the grill. She’d almost forgotten that he was working the party with his dad. Thank God for small miracles.

As they approached him, his back to the girls, Kie startled Stella by speaking in a terrible British accent, “Excuse me, sir. Do we have to shuck these ourselves?” Pope swiveled around as Kie grinned and Stella shook her head in bemusement. “’Cause it might mess up my costume.”

Pope chuckled. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” he asked and Stella stepped forward with a laugh, slapping her hand against his, front and back, before ending with a snap of her fingers. Their handshake. As he repeated the act with Kie, Pope added, “That accent was bad.”

Kie nodded. “It was. I was gonna let it go.”

Stella scoffed. “I wish you had,” she said as they came to stand next to Pope, arms folded across her chest. The three of them observed the scene before them, of all the guests gathered around in their fancy dresses and suits, drinking from flutes of champagne or drinks from the bar. “You ever seen this many Kooks in one place?”

“Yeah. Last year,” Pope answered.

Kie was squinting against the sun, but just like Stella’s, her brown skin glowed a pretty golden color against it. “We’re in the lion’s den.”

“Exactly.”

Pope glanced at the two of them, gaze lingering on Stella longer as he asked, “Have you heard from JJ?”

Kie shook her head. “No.”

“Just a text,” Stella answered, prompting Kie to look towards her, raising an eyebrow. Stella’s lips pursed. “He said he was okay and not to worry about him. But I won’t really believe it until I see him.”

“He’ll be all right,” Kie said, frowning to herself. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach.”

Stella swallowed inaudibly. Kie wasn’t really wrong.

“It’s all my fault,” Pope said, the guilt thick in his tone as he frowned at nothing. He looked like he might be sick over everything that’s happened.

Stella frowned as Kie said, “Uh, you didn’t do this, Pope.”

“Yeah,” Stella chimed in firmly. “Topper almost killed you. Remember?”

He shot her a dry look. “Not something I can forget.”

Stella shot him a small smile. “JJ was just trying to do right by you. He—he knew what he was doing.” She stumbled over her words briefly because, well, she wasn’t entirely sure if she believed them. She believed that JJ thought he was doing the right thing, but getting arrested was no small thing. He was just adding onto his record, and this time for something he didn’t even do. JJ put loyalty above anything else, and it was one of her favorite things about him—until it landed him in trouble he might not be able to get out of.

Midsummers, as expected, was boring as usual. The adults drank and the teens snuck in their own alcohol in hidden flasks, dancing to the music from the live band while almost everyone kissed Ward Cameron’s ass. Stella stuck by Kie’s side, mostly because she didn’t care for anyone else there and because Kie kept glaring at Sarah Cameron, who looked like the perfect Kook princess. She was missing her not-so-Prince Charming, Topper, who seemed to be sticking by Rafe and Kelce’s sides than with Sarah. Hmm. Interesting.

At one point, Stella excused herself to go to the bathroom, walking inside the country club and down the hall. She did her business, ignoring the giggles of the few other girls inside as she washed her hands. Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, however, she let out a gasp and stumbled into the doorframe as a figure rushed off in front of her, her gaze instantly following.

She’d recognize those blonde locks anywhere.

Stella’s heart thundered, gripping the doorframe tightly as she called out, “JJ?”

*****

Despite the severity of needing to find a hiding spot or escape, the sound of Stella’s voice had JJ stopping in his tracks. He turned, catching sight of her down the hall, too far down the hall, looking every bit as breathtaking as he expected her to in a golden dress that hugged her so perfectly. And the way she was looking at him—the surprise and relief and tenderness he was sure she reserved just for him—had JJ’s heart pounding right out of his chest, and not just because he was trying to save himself at the moment.

“Stella—” JJ stopped, looking through the glass of the doors, seeing Rafe, Kelce, and three of their suited up buddies purposefully making their way over. “Shit.” His blue eyes met her concerned brown ones. “Sweetheart, I’ll explain everything later, but I gotta run right now. Just—I’ll see you in a little, okay?”

“Wait, JJ—”

But he didn’t stick around, as much as he wanted to, and instead turned and ran off just as he heard Rafe and his buddies walk in. They’d spotted him talking to Sarah because he’d needed to give her a letter from John B, after he’d spoken to and received a surprising hug from Pope, and now they were hot on his ass looking to throw more punches. JJ’d already received a beating from his dad—he didn’t need anymore, thank you very much.

Except he made his way into the men’s room, and Rafe and his buddies were pretty fast and managed to corner him no problem. Five against one—this was totally fair. Assholes.

Rafe pushed him and JJ grunted, struggling as Kelce came up behind him and locked an arm around the front of his neck, the other keeping his head in place as JJ grabbed at Kelce’s arm to loosen the grip. He struggled, heart pounding, as Rafe looked at his friends. “Hold him still. What—what do you think? A four iron, right?” He mimicked holding a golf club. “Keep his head still. I’m gonna line this up.”

JJ didn’t make it easy for Kelce to keep him still. “Very Rafe of you,” JJ said through gritted teeth. “Five on one?”

Rafe looked pristine in his stupid blue suit and bowtie. JJ hoped he’d choke on it. “If you could please stop talking? It’s very disrespectful. I’m trying to hit a ball.” Oh, fuck no. “Learn your etiquette, my friend.”

JJ kept grunting, struggling against Kelce, using his hands as much as he could to try and get away. JJ’s voice was hoarse against Kelce’s grip as he spat back, “I’m gonna kick your teeth in.” As much fire as there was in his voice, JJ wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to deliver on his promise. Not when the odds were stacked against him.

Rafe smirked sardonically, crouching to look up at JJ with a mocking sort of sympathy. “Your face looks really bad. Starting to look like your dad a lot more.”

The insult was grating, especially given that the bruises and cuts on his face were courtesy of his father. JJ couldn’t do much more than spit in Rafe’s face. He jerked back, wiping the saliva off his face as he grinned. “Oh, shit. Alright. It was—”

The lights began flickering. “Gentlemen!” Kelce roughly let go of JJ and pushed him off, prompting the blonde to struggle before he righted himself. The security guard approached them. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh! Pardon me, officer. No, there’s not an issue. I just—” JJ cut himself off, his breathing labored as he panted to catch his breath. He looked at the others and JJ ran his fingers through his hair before deciding on a different course of action. One he knew would likely get him out of this. “Actually, yes. No, there is an issue. Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep!” He waved a finger around. “Call it in, right?” The others looked at him, trying to appear casual and like they weren’t doing anything wrong. “Blatant disrespect for private property.”

Rafe clicked his tongue, scratching his ear. “Yeah.”

JJ turned to the guard. “I’m in violation of all kinds of shit, sir, but these young gentlemen—” He made a show of righting Kelce’s bowtie before he jerked him away.

“Don’t touch my shit,” Kelce said lowly.

JJ continued, “Uh, caught me, sir, and they’re about to take me away. And that’s what you should do.” He held his fists up like he was ready to be handcuffed. Again. “Escort me out of here. You got me.”

The guard grabbed his arm. JJ was relieved. “Come on.”

“All right.” JJ looked over his shoulder as the guard pulled him out, looking at the Kooks. “Fix that tie, son,” he said to Kelce before looking at Rafe. “You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You Powerpuff Girls have fun,” he turned back around.

Rafe took a step forward, his voice smug. “Tell Stella she looks pretty hot for a scarred Pogue.”

Fire erupted in JJ’s veins at Rafe’s comment, a newfound anger rushing through him at the blatant insult from the son of a bitch. JJ didn’t care who they were—nobody talked about Stella like that. Not at all, not in front of him. JJ’s body moved at his own accord, a low growl escaping him as he jerked away from the guard and tried to launch himself at Rafe, consequences be damned of a five against one. The asshole insulted Stella. JJ couldn’t just let him get away with that.

He rushed towards Rafe, only for Kelce to jump in and push him away as the guard came to his back and pulled him away. “Hey! Stop it. Come here! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

But JJ struggled, the urge to bury his fist in Rafe’s face overwhelming after his words. “You think I’m afraid of you, bro?”

The guard pulled him back. “Come on.”

JJ turned and was guided out as Rafe’s voice followed him out of the locker room. “Hey, safe travels back to the cut!”

JJ shouted back, “This ain’t over!”

The guard didn’t let his grip on JJ go as he guided him down the halls and towards the doors, his grip tight as they burst through the doors out onto the patio. “Look, man, I can walk myself!” JJ exclaimed, earning gasps and looks from the guests at him being escorted out. “I got legs. Can you see that, brother?”

The guard didn’t seem to care. “Come on.”

“I really appreciate what you did back there. Let me just walk out by myself.” He struggled against the guard’s grip before spotting the older gentleman from earlier who had asked JJ for a drink. At this point, JJ didn’t care for the attention he was drawing on himself, stumbling over to where the man stood. “Mr. Dunleavy, I see you got your drink. Good, that’s really nice of you. I’m actually gonna down that,” he said quickly before grabbing the drink and downing the whiskey in one gulp.

The man gaped at him, the guard apologized before pulling JJ away. Everyone was watching, murmuring, and JJ never had mastered the art of subtlety, so he made a commotion as he was so kindly escorted out. Might as fucking well go out with a bang.

“Let go of him!” JJ turned at the sound of Stella’s voice, standing up on the patio with Kie by her side. Their parents were behind them, quietly telling Stella to stay quiet while her gaze met JJ’s. He stopped, kind of fucking mesmerized by the sight of her. “You can’t just boot him!”

The guard stopped, still holding onto JJ, who was still watching her. “Excuse me, ma’am?” the guard asked.

“I invited him here,” Stella continued, her voice loud and carrying over the newfound silence amongst the crowd. Everyone was looking at her, but she didn’t seem to give a shit, and JJ kind of fell in love with her all over again.

Next to her, JJ could hear her mom say, “Stella, stop it.”

“No, she’s right,” Kie spoke up, glaring at her parents and then at the guard. “We’re members of this club.”

“Girls, stop it,” Mr. Carrera seemed to be saying to them.

JJ took the opportunity of the guard being distracted to jerk out of his grip and push him, wincing as the man went stumbling into a waiter carrying a tray full of glasses that went shattering on the ground. “Sorry about that!” JJ said over the commotion before looking towards the girls. He pointed at them, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. “Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, ladies.” His gaze found Pope’s amidst the crowd’s. “Pope, you as well, all right? Rixon’s cove. Let’s roll.” He was walking backwards, people making their way for him as they all gaped at him in disbelief and annoyance. JJ looked back at the girls, holding his arm up. “All right, girls, come on.” He gripped his wrist. “Workers of the world unite. Throw off your chains!”

His gaze met Stella’s, who was watching him in, what he realized with relief, was amusement. He saw the looks she and Kie exchanged, a silent communication going on between the twins while their parents most definitely murmured warnings at them. And then, much to JJ’s relief, Stella and Kie broke away before running down the stairs.

JJ grinned widely, finally facing John B, who had been watching the whole thing with a grin. “Colonel.”

John B returned the salute JJ offered him. “Captain.”

JJ grinned. “Mission accomplished, sir.”

John B laughed as JJ shouted for the girls, watching as Pope pulled off his apron and handed it to his dad before running towards John B and JJ, all the while Mr. Heyward yelled, “Don’t do this! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

But Pope didn’t listen, instead high fived John B and JJ, before John B ran off ahead and the two of them faced the girls running over, as well. Kie and Pope ran side by side, laughing, and JJ opened his arms so Stella could run into his embrace, and he laughed into her neck as he lifted her off the ground with a spin before setting her down, grasping her hand in his, and following the others as they ran.

“Later, losers!” John B shouted over his shoulder towards the partygoers.

Stella was laughing, the sound brilliant and wonderful in JJ’s ears as Kie cheered while they ran. JJ couldn’t help but laugh as well. It may have been a shitty couple of days, but at least he had his friends.

*****

The fire crackled between them as Stella sat on a log next to JJ. The cicadas were chirping against the otherwise quiet of the night, and JJ had changed out of the waiter get up and was back in his signature hat, shirt, and shorts combo. The sight of the shark tooth necklace Stella had gifted him around his neck always made her chest tighten in the best way. She and Kie were still in their Midsummers dresses, but mosquitos and bugs never bothered Stella, so she sat comfortably as the fire warmed them.

She kept looking towards JJ, though—at the cuts and bruises on his face. The sight of him injured tightened her chest uncomfortably, made her stomach twist nauseatingly. No doubt his dad had done this to him, and it enraged her. She wished, with every fiber of her being, that she could get him as far away from his dad as possible. It hurt, so badly, to see JJ injured at the hands of his abusive father. JJ, despite what others may see as faults and flaws, was probably the best person she knew. He had such a big heart, a soul that deserved to be loved and protected instead of stepped on and beaten. She desperately wished she could protect him from the cruelty of others. He deserved someone to do that for him.

“Hey, guys. So, like, my dad’s already gonna kill me,” Pope said as he and John B dropped some sticks to feed the fire before sitting down. “So what’s this mandatory meeting about?”

Stella watched as John B looked at JJ, pointing at him as if he needed permission. JJ nodded. “Might as well tell him, man, before we’re gaffed.”

John B smiled like he held some kind of secret. “You ready for this?” he asked, looking at Kie and Stella.

The two girls nodded impatiently. “Yeah.”

The fire glowed against John B’s skin as he looked at all of them. “So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant.”

Stella blinked as Pope groaned. “Oh, my God. Here we go again with this.”

Next to her, JJ sat up, holding out a calming hand to Pope. “No, all right, wait. Hear him out, all right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Pope and the girls.

John B had a finger to his lips before continuing, “It’s been here this whole time.” He looked to Kie. “It’s on the island.”

Her expression was one of shocked disbelief. “Are you serious?” She looked at John B before laughing in astonishment. “Oh, my God.”

Pope held up a hand. “I’d like to voice my skepticism.”

Stella was still trying to wrap her head around what John B said as he stood up. “I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?”

Pope rolled his eyes. “Proceed.”

John B held up a piece of paper he pulled out from his bag, proceeding to tell them about a letter he had from Denmark Tanny, a slave who had survived the wreck of the Royal Merchant. He showed it to Pope and the girls, telling them that the slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but that his dad found the complete manifest—his big discovery. Stella listened attentively, mouth agape, looking towards JJ who nodded with a smile on his face. He knew all of this already, it seemed. It was probably why he and John B had been together earlier.

“So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom,” John B was saying. “After that, he bought his farm. Drumroll, please, because that farm is,” he paused dramatically as the group of them slapped their knees with their hands. “Tannyhill Plantation.”

Kie stopped. “Tannyhill?”

John B nodded, standing like a professor giving a lecture. “Yeah. So, after that, he used his money to free even more slaves, and then he sold a shit-ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and then they decide to lynch him. So on the day they were coming to get him, he writes a letter to his son as a farewell, and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about where to find the gold.”

John B had Stella’s attention as she hung onto his every word, shaking her head as she asked, “Where?”

John B grinned. “Harvest the wheat in parcel nine, near the water.” He held up a hand. “Except, there is no wheat. You see, wheat is code for gold. Check this out.” He walked over to Pope, pointing at something in the paper Pope was holding. Stella leaned over to look as well. “The gold is in parcel nine, near the water.”

Kie laughed in disbelief as Pope murmured, “Holy shit.”

John B slapped his arm. “All we need is an original survey map of the property and we’ve found the gold.”

He was grinning widely as JJ stood up. Pope slowly started, “Okay, so this might have a small chance of being actually true.”

Kie bounced excitedly where she sat. “Dude, it’s like King Tut!” she exclaimed, earning a laugh from Stella.

“I am a genius,” John B announced, just as JJ tackled him into a hug. “Hey, whoa!” They teetered slightly where they stood before JJ lifted John B up. “Hello! Fire! You’re near the fire. You’re gonna burn.”

JJ pulled away and Stella snickered as he said, “I’m so proud of you right now.”

John B nodded somberly. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

With a shake of her head, Stella interrupted the moment by asking, “Okay, so, guys.” They all looked towards her. “What’s the plan?”

John B pointed at her as JJ made his way back. “Good question. Sarah Cameron’s coming tonight. She’ll bring the original survey map—”

JJ sat down next to Stella just as her eyes widened, gaping at John B before her gaze instantly shot to Kie, who was frowning. “Hold on,” she interrupted. “Sarah? Wh-why Sarah?”

Stella tensed, looking between a bewildered Kie and a hesitant John B. She and Pope exchanged glances, both of them suddenly aware of the tension building in the open space. “Um—” John B trailed off.

JJ took off his head, muttering, “This is gonna be good.”

Stella looked at him, catching the wince he shot her way. Silently, she frowned at him, but JJ shook his head before nodding towards John B, who stood with his fists on his hips. “Sarah, um, she. . . She got me into the archives in Chapel Hill yesterday, and there’s where I got the letter.”

Kie’s face scrunched up even more, looking a mix of pissed off and confused, while Stella gaped up at John B. “You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?”

John B’s throat worked. “Yeah, um. . .”

Next to her, JJ announced, “He was mackin’ on her.”

Stella gasped as she stared at him, wide eyed, and JJ nodded somberly while Pope coughed uncomfortably into his fist. Across the fire, Kie was glaring up at John B, and Stella hated the betrayal she could already see melting into Kie’s eyes. John B shot JJ a glare. “I wasn’t macking.”

JJ lifted his chin, unrelenting. “You were totally macking Sarah Cameron.”

He wasn’t helping the situation, so Stella lightly flicked his arm, prompting JJ to immediately look at her, pressing his cut lips together to keep himself from smirking. She narrowed her eyes in warning, and all JJ did was link their arms together and pull her to his side.

“I wasn’t macking on her, okay?” John B spoke up, exasperated. “I was using her for access.”

JJ scoffed lightly. “There was access, alright.”

Stella pinched his side at that, despite the inappropriate laugh threatening to burst. Kie wouldn’t appreciate it, and Stella could tell her twin was seconds away from pushing John B into the fire. “Did you tell her about the treasure?” Kie demanded.

John B’s eyes widened. “I was trying to get into the archives.”

Kie’s voice grew loud with disbelief. “Is that a yes?”

“I. . . I left out key details,” John B said, looking to the others for help. Stella pressed her lips together, pressed up against JJ. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything, not with the current situation going on. Poor John B wasn’t going to get help on this.

“Yo, what?” Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “You let a Kook in on our secret? What about Pogue Lyfe? What about the T-shirt company, bro?”

Suddenly, it was a battle between Kie and John B, and all Stella, JJ, and Pope could do was sit on the sidelines silently and watch. “I was just using her for information,” John B tried.

Kie shot him a wry look. “Why don’t I believe you?”

John B was growing exasperated already, shaking his head at the unhelpfulness of the others before looking back at Kie. “I’m trying to make us filthy rich here, okay, so that we can pay off a boat, or. . . or, uh. . .” He looked towards Pope, “send you to autopsy school to study bed bodies.” Stella’s face scrunched up as JJ suppressed a snort and Pope blinked owlishly. “Look, you guys know me. Do I look like the type of person to fall for Sarah Cameron?”

JJ blinked. “Uh—”

Stella tilted her head at John B. “Do you want us to answer that?” She could guarantee neither he nor Kie would appreciate the answer.

John B held up a hand at Stella. “Just—just stop.”

Kie shook her head, her jaw tight as she frowned deeply. “Look, you don’t know her yet. I do! You can’t trust her.”

Pope chimed in, “Her brother did hit me in the back with a golf club.”

John B looked to Pope. “Rafe and Sara are different human beings.”

JJ’s cheek was resting on top of Stella’s head as he asked Kie, “What did she do to you, exactly?”

Stella sighed. Oh, boy.

Kie held up two fingers and jabbed them forward. “She’s like a. . . a spitting cobra.” Everyone blinked, bewildered. “First she—she blinds you, and then—”

Stella was already shaking her head, sitting up straight as she said to her struggling sister, “This is a bad analogy.”

“Listen to me!” Kie exclaimed, clearly fed up with the situation. “Whatever we get, she’s gonna try to take.”

Her words were met by silence, other than the crackling fire and chirping cicadas. John B stood quietly, throat working, clearly unsure of what to say as JJ and Pope stayed in their own awkward silence, too. Stella suppressed a sigh. It seemed as though it was up to her to smooth things over, even if she did slightly side with Kie in all of this. She didn’t have a begrudging hate towards Sarah like Kie did, but they were sisters, and Stella needed to show solidarity. But she could also, in some way, see John B’s side of things. God, this was gonna be tense.

“Kie,” Stella spoke up carefully, prompting Kie’s gaze to connect with hers. “Whatever John B promised Sarah, that’s his issue. But if she’s the only way we can get the map, then we need to let it happen.”

Kie’s jaw was hard. “I don’t want her involved. I don’t want to deal with her.”

“We won’t,” Stella said, glancing quickly at John B before looking at Kie again. “Let John B deal with her.” When Kie didn’t look entirely convinced, Stella let out a huff. “This is bigger than your beef with Sarah. I know you know that.”

Silence fell upon them for a few moments as they all waited for Kie to respond. She sat quietly, hands gripping the log she sat on, mulling over Stella’s words. Stella, in turn, hoped she got through to her sister. They needed Kie to be on board with this, no matter her issues with Sarah. They’d already gotten this far in their treasure hunt—an old beef shouldn’t hinder them now.

Stella remained quiet, waiting for Kie to make a decision, although she silently enjoyed the sensation of JJ’s fingers ghosting up and down her arm, their arms still linked together. It was calming when others would argue JJ was anything but.

“Fine,” Kie finally gave in and everyone instantly sat up. She glared at John B. “As long as I don’t have to speak to her.” John B pressed his hands together and brought them to his mouth, his grin already forming. “I just hope you know what you’re getting us into.”

After John B profusely thanked Kie for agreeing, they killed the fire and got up before heading back to the van, since they had to drive to meet Sarah. The twigs and leaves crunched under their shoes as they went, but as Pope, Kie, and John B chatted while walking ahead, Stella lingered back and grasped JJ’s hand to slow his pace down.

He looked at her, eyebrows raising. “What’s up?”

Stella looked up at him, her fingers ghosting on his chin. Finally, she let the worry come out in full force as she asked, “Are you okay? Did—” she stopped, throat working to get rid of the lump that formed. “Did your dad do this?”

JJ’s jaw worked, blue eyes glimmering under the moonlight as he looked down at her. “Got a good chunk of money to pay in restitution,” he told her. “The old man’s not too happy about it.”

Despite herself, Stella felt the hot tears sting in her eyes. She preferred the pink in JJ’s cheeks when they were flushed when he was happy or even drunk—not the pink and harsh reds that surrounded the cuts and marked the bruises. Stella wasn’t sure she ever hated anyone as much as she hated JJ’s dad. Her throat was tight, unable to say anything except to croak out his name, “JJ—”

“Hey, hey,” he shushed her, hands coming up to cup Stella’s that had been ghosting along his sharp jaw. He held her hand in both of his before pressing a kiss to it, blue eyes locked in her brown. “I’m okay, Stel. They’ll heal. It’s no big deal.”

Stella scoffed, though her concern remained clear. “You can’t actually expect me to believe that.” The flutters in her stomach returned when JJ kissed her hand, when he looked at her with those baby blue eyes she loved so much. She let out a breath. “You’re sleeping over at John B’s, right?”

JJ offered her a small dimpled grin. “When am I not?”

Stella pinned him with a stare. They’d stopped walking and she knew they had to move soon, but she took a breath. “Whenever you can, either sleep at John’s or you sleep at mine. Okay?”

JJ raised his eyebrows, though she could see his gaze soften at her offer. But he kept the mood light as he teased, “You inviting me to your room, shark bait?”

Her heart jumped. “Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed,” Stella pointed out. It was the truth. They shared hammocks, chairs, couches, and beds countless times before.

“Yeah, but it’s different now, isn’t it?” JJ questioned.

She looked at their hands before meeting his gaze again. “Is it?” she returned, throat working in anticipation. This was it. This was Stella asking JJ if whatever was happening between them was real, if something more was going to come out of it than a few kisses shared.

JJ’s gaze was intense, deep in a way she wasn’t used to as it stole her breath. “It is.” Steady, resolute, firm. No room for arguments. Thank fuckinf God.

Stella felt her grin appear before she could help it, relief warming her, and JJ mirrored her smile before ducking his head and pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss slowly, gently, not wanting to hurt his cut lips. Her heart jumped excitedly as he kissed her, but it was cut short, unfortunately, when John B’s voice cut through the air.

“Oi! What happened to no macking?”

The two of them pulled apart, but John B was grinning, as were Pope and Kie as they looked at the two of them. Stella’s face flushed as JJ slung his arm around her shoulders before they began walking towards their friends. “I’m sure we can make an exception,” JJ said smoothly, cockily.

John B’s grin was wicked. “If it means you’ll finally stop whining about how much you looooove Stel, then yes we will.”

Stella laughed, cheeks flushing, while JJ spluttered. “I never whined!” he protested as they joined their friends.

Pope rolled his eyes. “That’s true. You just bottled it all up inside because you’re emotionally constipated.”

“Sounds about right. I’m the one who made the first move,” Stella said, grinning widely at JJ’s betrayed expression, laughing as he used his arm around her to push her away. Stella continued laughing, along with the others, as she stumbled away, but didn’t lose her balance because JJ instantly caught her hand and pulled her back to his side.

“Whatever. I like an assertive woman,” JJ said with a charming grin, pressing a kiss to Stella’s temple as they neared the van.

Pointing at Pope and John B as they climbed inside, Kie said, “You two owe me twenty bucks, by the way.”

“No, we don’t!” John B argued as he started the van. “It’s after Midsummers.”

Pope nodded in agreement as Kie grinned wickedly before meeting Stella’s gaze as she sat on the back bench. With a giggle, Stella confessed, “It was actually yesterday. Before the summer movie series.”

John B and Pope’s gazes swung to JJ, who leaned back with his arms propped on top of the back bench casually as he said, “It’s true, boys.” John B shook his head and began driving, and JJ added, “Can’t believe you three bet on us.”

Sitting on the floor opposite of them, Pope scoffed. “Can’t believe it took you two this long to get together.”

“Okay!” Stella spoke up loudly, clapping her hands together once and shooting all of her friends a look. “We’re done talking about this.”

They reached their destination soon after that, a spot off in the middle of the woods where a tower stood, the apparent meeting spot John B had set up at Kildare Hawk’s Nest. As soon as he parked the car, Pope slid open the back van door as JJ slapped his knees. “Hit it, boys! We’re goin’. Recon mission.”

But before any of them could even get up, John B turned to face them. “Yo, uh. . . So, uh, I think I’m gonna do this one by myself. . . Tonight.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as Kie rolled her eyes and Stella and JJ fell back in their seats. She raised her eyebrows as JJ drawled a knowing, “Really?”

John B frowned. “What?”

JJ took off his head. “Nothin’.”

John B sighed, fixing his own hat atop his head. “I don’t want to spook Sarah with the peanut gallery.”

Kie shrugged, voice sharp and annoyed as she looked at John B. “I just don’t understand why we’re involving her at all.”

Stella let out a sigh as she leaned back, JJ now sitting on the ground next to her, his head resting against her leg as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Kie, we’re not involving her, okay?” John B said, exasperated. “It’s—it’s just, uh, like a—a business meeting. . . Thing.” On the ground, JJ made a crude motion with the joint he held and made a gulping sound, prompting Pope to grin in amusement while Stella rolled her eyes at John B. He was not selling this well. “Look, once we get what we need, we cut her loose, all right? Plus, we need the map.”

Yeah, okay. Stella wasn’t quite sure how much she believed that.

Kie pursed her lips, leaning forward as she stared John B dead in the eye. “Promise me nothing’s happening between you two.”

John B widened his eyes, answering breathily, “Nothing is happening, Kie.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Okay!”

Kie was still frowning, as if she was trying to get John B to get the message through her glare. “This isn’t about you. This isn’t about us. This is about her.” Stella pressed her lips together as she watched them. Kie’s beef with Sarah was so damn deep, she wondered if they would be able to do with if she wasn’t on board with Sarah helping out just this once. Personally, Stella didn’t give a shit about Sarah Cameron; she just didn’t like her out of principle for the way the end of that friendship hurt Kie. Everything else was between Kie and Sarah. “Dude, she’s gonna get inside your head. Just promise me nothing’s happening between you guys.”

John B looked at her as lightning flashed outside and thunder rolled. “I promise.”

“That was really believable,” JJ piped up.

Pope nodded. “A hundred percent believable.”

Stella lightly knocked JJ with her knee while glaring at Pope, effectively shutting both of them up. John B didn’t dignify them with a response, instead saying, “Anyways, um, I’m gonna take care of business.”

JJ shook his head, playing with the joint. “You’re gonna take care of it so well.”

Stella waved John B off dismissively. “We’ll just sit here,” she said dryly. “In the hot-ass car.”

Pope added, “While it’s lightning.”

They left the back door of the van open as John B got out, backpack on as he walked off towards the tower. The wind rustled outside, thunder rumbling every now and then to accompany the flashes of lightning that warned of a storm rolling in. “Kiara, holding onto your grudge is like drinking poison and thinking Sarah will die,” Pope said once John B was gone.

“Exactly,” JJ nodded.

Kie shot the two of them a withering stare before looking at Stella. Her twin merely shrugged. “You know I’m on your side,” Stella said. “But you can’t really tell John B what he can or can’t do.”

“I’m not trying to tell him what to do,” Kie shot back. “I’m just warning him against the kind of person I know Sarah is. She’s gonna fuck us over.”

“Look, we just—we just gotta trust that John B knows what he’s doing,” Pope tried to placate, looking between Stella and Kie. “That he’s using his head.”

Kie scoffed, not really convinced. “I know what head he’s using, and it isn’t the one on his shoulders.”

“That’s a good one,” JJ mumbled quietly where he sat.

They were quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the rumble of thunder, before conversation started up again. Pope had asked about what happened at Midsummers, and JJ launched into the story that led up to the Kooks cornering him in the men’s room while they waited for John B to return with the map.

JJ was saying, “Rafe and Kelce followed me—”

Kie cut him off. “Wait, do you guys hear that?” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “Sh.”

Stella frowned. “What?”

And then, in the distance, over the sound of the wind howling and thunder rumbling, came a girl’s voice yelling, “Please, somebody, help!”

All of their eyes widened, instantly on their feet as JJ grunted, “Oh, wait, no, I hear that.”

“Shit,” Pope cursed as they all stumbled out.

“What the fuck?” Stella muttered, gripping the skirt of her dress so it didn’t get tangled in her feet as she ran.

The voice, Stella realized, belonged to Sarah, and her heart started pounding as they ran towards the Hawk’s Nest, throat already drying in worry. The first thought in her head was that something went terribly wrong, that John B was hurt, and when they all cleared a group of trees towards the base of the Nest, Stella’s fear came true as a gasp ripped through her at the sight of John B lying on the ground, Sarah crying as she cradled his head and begged for him to wake up and open his eyes.

“Sarah! What happened?” Pope asked as they came running over, skidding to a stop, their breathing labored.

Sarah was crying, and Stella’s heart clenched at the sight of John B, unconscious, fear drenching her veins in ice as she instantly gripped Kie’s hand. “I don’t know what to do,” Sarah sobbed. “He needs help. Topper shoved him.”

Anger heated Stella’s skin, momentarily taking over the terror trembling her body as JJ demanded, “Where the hell is he?”

But Sarah just cried, “Oh, please, please, please get help. I don’t care who. Just call someone.”

Stella pushed Pope away as she panted, “Go! Call 911! Go!”

Pope took off and Kie shouted after him, “Pope, hurry!”

They all stood, breathing labored and hearts pounding, unsure of what to do as their friend lay unconscious. Worry weighed heavily on them all, to the point where Stella couldn’t even stop to question the way Sarah was holding John B to her, crying for him, kissing him and begging for him to wake up. No, nothing else mattered other than their injured friend, the tears stinging in Stella’s eyes as she prayed to anyone who was listening that he would wake up. Soon. Now. Please.

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

No One Lives Forever Not Even God

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Language, Insomnia, mentions of antidepressants, mentions of drugs, drug use, mentions of addiction, mentions of nazis, parental neglect, mentions of the dead, cemeteries, mentions of meltdowns,  corrupt government, mentions of cancer, low self esteem, self destructive behavior, medical testing, thoughts of murder, mentions of injury, and mentions of knives, 

Word Count: 6.1k

Songs: Mother- Pink Floyd, He Can Only Hold Her- Amy Whinehouse, A Pearl- Mitski, Me and My Husband- Mitski, Saint Bernard- Lincon, Why Didn't You Stop Me?- Mistki, Nuestro Planeta- Kali Uchis, You Know I'm No Good-Amy Whinehouse, and Love Is a Losing Game- Amy Whinehouse.

 "I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too. Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you.”

A/N: I only did one proofread so sorry if there are typos and this is just more of an infodump to set up other chapters so enjoy ig. I almost gonna start another series a social media AU let me know if you'd want to be tagged in either of these series.

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Nightmares come while I’m asleep but, when I’m awake the nightmares of the day just come for me then, so really I’m just stuck. I would like to say the antidepressants are working, it's just the insomnia that comes with them isn't working for me. I’m honestly starting to think mood stabilizers would do me better.

Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?

I’m not sure I could blame this all on the pills though. I’d have to give some of the credit to the massive bombshell that a certain ex Avenger had dropped on me. 

It's almost like every five seconds a new giant secret about my mom is unveiled to me. Like sure I saw from the video that she’d left me that she had associations with some bad people like Kingpin but nazis? 

SHIELD had apparently collapsed because it was infiltrated by Hydra but it was prevalent while my mom was still alive. Seems like she had worked for or with everyone who was anyone. I’m just gonna give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she didn’t know because up until two weeks ago I didn’t either. 

Her and Natasha had been recruited at the same time and worked together but for someone who claims to have been so close to her you’d think she’d know that she was dead. “She went off the grid and that was the last I heard from her,” is all she gave me with a smile that even I could tell was fake and I’d just met the woman. 

You know when grown folks come up to you and expect you to remember them because they met you once while you were like in the womb that’s kinda my relationship with Natasha. She knows so much about me and I know absolutely nothing about her save for the fact she's a spy meaning she’d be a great liar. 

She used to babysit me sometimes if I could trust what she says that is. Apparently I called her “Auntie Nat”. For some reason no one ever thought it was a good idea to inform me that I had a godmother. Maybe they did and I just forgot. 

I thought they were supposed to take care of you when something happened to your parents. And the one who’s alive is about as useless as the other. It might be fun to have another person that was considered family. Just maybe not a spy at least I’d know she’d walk out of my life so I won’t get attached. 

Mother, do you think they'll like the song?

“Hey mom,” I sighed sitting down in the light dusting in front of her tombstone. “I know it’s been a while and I’ve got a lot to catch you up on,” 

It took a bit of digging before I found what I was looking for in my bag. I ran my fingers along the cold surface of the small jewelry box. There was puffy white glue holding the larger pieces together. 

I placed the box in the grass sitting next to the tombstone. I removed a purple coiled bracelet and sat it next to the box. 

I tucked my legs under my body admiring the piece of jewelry. 

“I brought you a bracelet,” I spoke. “It’s kinda like a friendship bracelet cause I have the other. I don’t know if I should leave it here in case someone steals it,” I laughed. “You’d have to be a real shitty person to steal from a cemetery though,”

I curse so often I didn’t realize I did it until I had already done it. 

“Ah sorry! Excuse my French,” I chuckled.

“I met Natasha Romanoff and she said she knew you. She said she knew me too. I don’t remember her though…” I trailed off. 

For someone who claimed to have a lot to say I sure was at a loss for words. I just didn’t know how to get any of them out. 

“Oh! You’re not gonna believe me if I tell you but I got to meet some of the Avengers. Most of them were new though. You’d know some of them. Like Captain America I wanted his help but he couldn’t provide it,” 

I had a bit of an episode when I was told no one knew where Thor was. I think it was justified though.

 How the fuck do you lose two Avengers let alone the ones that can’t possibly be hidden. One is green and huge and the other leaves lightning bolts everywhere they go.  

Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?

“The other is Natasha but I don’t think I really knew that yet. She went by Black Widow. I’m sure you knew that though. You probably know a lot,” 

I wonder how many secrets she never told me about. I mean I could only imagine all the secrets working for the government would let you in on. Like she probably knew about big stuff like the Tesseract and aliens maybe she could’ve known about that. 

“Okay I have a question. I have a lot actually but I think if you answer them I’m gonna get up and run out of here,” I joked. 

“Number one is my middle name Natalia because of your SHIELD buddy? Like it might just be a coincidence but it could also be a godmother typa situation or something,”

It was a running theory. She would’ve known my mom before I was born. And if what I was told is true they’d be pretty close too and Natasha translates back to Natalia and I know she’s Russian. It makes sense. 

Ooh

Mother, should I build the wall? 

“Uh… there’s this boy,” 

When was there not? It seems like there was always someone in my life. Carmen in therapist mode said it’s because I put my self worth into my relationship status.

 “He’s really nice. Like really really nice. Nicer than anybody I’ve ever been associated with. It’s just he’s like…” I didn't know how to put the next part into words. “He’s just too nice. Too nice for me at least. Like he’s such a good person and I’m just me,” 

“And it’s I feel bad,” I sighed. I was getting myself too worked up over this. “Like I keep playing like a game of tug a war with him where I let him in and kick him out again it’s tiring. I don’t even do it on purpose. I feel like we could be something maybe. But I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. It’s a self defense mechanism. At least I think.” 

I do it with everyone. I shut them out before they can get it. The less people you let into your life the less people that can walk out. 

It’s a bulletproof tactic. At least I used to think it was. Never realized people could get hurt including myself. 

“I saw dad,” I informed myself? I guess I’m not sure how healthy it is to have a conversation with someone you know can’t respond and isn't listening. “Like two days ago actually I didn’t say anything I freaked out and ran away. It made me think though,”

Mother, should I run for president?

Made me think about how I’d done so well on my own. Well I’m not gonna take all the credit, most of it was Carmen keeping my ass in line. I haven’t talked to her in a while. I haven’t talked to anyone in a while. 

”I found a small studio apartment in Queens. It was the cheapest one I could find. I’m just renting it like an Airbnb right now. I need to find a permanent place and a job,”

 I couldn’t find a permanent place at my age unless I had full autonomy which leads me to my next topic. 

“So I was thinking about getting emancipated which everything would’ve been a lot easier if you were here then we could just go to court for custody cause you’d win for sure.” 

Mother, should I trust the government?

“I know you never got to know how corrupt SHIELD was but do they like keep tabs on everyone who does anything to them or related to them? Because like I did a little snooping and I know they had files for all the Avengers and other people like Kingpin.” 

I knew I was going to have to do more than sit here and ask a dead person what to do but ranting to someone who couldn’t spill my secrets was a start.

 “I was just wondering how deep it went or if they had hidden stuff on me,” 

Mother, will they put me in the firing line?

It’s probably common knowledge that if you mess with the government they’ll mess back. I’d like to think they were like bees. You leave them alone they’ll leave you alone. Only stinging when provoked. 

But every branch of the government is like a wasp. They don’t die if they sting and they’ll sting you for no reason at all. They just like to see people in pain.

And I’m sure the energy research branch of SHIELD would probably be more than interested in a walking fire bomb that can move things without touching them. 

I mean I’m not going to stop poking things around until I figure out what’s wrong with me. So might as well not complain. 

“So I don’t have many things figured out right now and the whole you and SHIELD thing only confused me more so if you could just like come tell me what to do just this once that’d be great,” I laughed.

 At first I was contemplating if this was weird or not but hearing me say that I now know this is pathetic. It always has been.

Ooh

Is it just a waste of time?

But I didn’t know if I should keep searching. Maybe I should just pretend like I’d never gotten introduced to the world of powers or mutations at all. For all I know Peter, Carmen, Felicia, Wade and I are just normal people who do normal people stuff. 

Sure I wanted answers but I didn’t want to end up like those people who spend their whole life searching for an answer they won’t find any and end up never living at all. 

Like a quote my mom used to say all the time “The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all,” 

She really just used it so she didn’t have to listen to being put on bed rest but it obviously had a deeper meaning and she knew that. 

I keep finding myself stuck on that phrase. That and the whole when the dust settles poem. 

I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too.

 Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. 

But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you. 

“Uh I don’t know if I should even tell you this cause you died before it was even a problem in the first place but…” I blew out a breath digging my feet deeper into the ground.

 “I’ve been clean for like two weeks now. Which is actually a thing I’m pretty proud of right now.” 

I’d stopped using everything except weed, nicotine because those weren’t drugs and even then I used it way less than before. Oh, and my antidepressants too but that’s obviously okay they’re prescribed. 

I hated the word clean made me seem like an addict which I wasn’t. I’m many things but I wasn’t an addict. I just didn’t know of any other words to use. 

I wasn’t an addict but I’d say the lines between recreational use and dependency were blurring just a bit. I had gotten it straight though. I’m good now. The antidepressants are helping. 

Hush now baby, baby, don't you cry

“You have a superpower of just making people feel better immediately. I don’t know if it was the fact you were my mom or what but if you even just put a bandaid on a stab wound it’d probably stop hurting and disappear,” 

I wasn’t even exaggerating there was this one time I got hurt at the zoo and she just kissed it and I forgot about the fact that I even fell. 

I’m not sure how true that is though because I couldn’t actually recall the memory I was just told about it by my mom a few years after it happened. So I guess I remember not remembering then being reminded. Weird. 

“I wanna see the giraffes!” Aaliyah cried, stomping her feet down on the concrete.

This was one of the only times mom didn’t have to work on the weekends and Liyah had to have her way like always. 

“Mom!” I screamed “Tell her you said we could see the lions first,” 

She just sighed. “Well since she’s the youngest do you think you could be nice and let her go first please?” 

“Fine,” I huffed. I wasn’t doing it for Liyah, I was doing it for mom. Even a blind person could see how tired she’d been lately. 

Liyah laughed at me sticking her tongue out. She’s such a brat.

“You’re so dumb.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“I know you are but what am I ?” She teased hitting my shoulder before running away.  

I took off after her. She may have been fast but I knew I could catch up to her. 

I almost had her when my foot got caught on something. It launched me towards the ground and I put my hands down to catch myself but I still hit my knee.

I slid on the concrete scuffing my leg. I didn’t scream because that would make me weak and it didn't hurt that bad. I just bit my lip and stood up. 

I didn’t want to limp but it hurt too much to put pressure on my leg. 

Liyah had beat me back to mom and when I reached them she was already apologizing. 

Fake.

 She was just scared to get in trouble. I wasn’t gonna snitch on her anyways. 

“Let me see it,” Mom asked, grabbing my arm, pulling me to sit down on a stonehenge. 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a first aid kit. She always had everything in her purse. It was kinda like a super power. The black Marry Poppins. 

She wiped the scrape with an alcohol wipe and I just barely hissed. It didn’t even really hurt anymore. 

She placed a bandaid on it, smoothing her hands on top of it before placing a kiss there. 

“There,” She wiped her hands on her thighs before standing up “All better?” 

I nodded my head and we went off to see the giraffes because I’m nice like that.

“In case you were wondering, Aaliyah still always gets her way even now. I’d say she’s got me beat on the manipulation game honestly,” 

It’s fine though I taught her everything she knows not everything I know. I could still get one over on her if needed. 

Mama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true

“I found your pendant, the SHIELD one. Which I guess makes all of this real no matter how much I want it to be fake. I just want this to be a poorly written book where I wake up and the past five years were all a dream,” 

God knows how much I meant that. Well maybe I didn’t mean it too much because some people I’ve met in the past five years are people I don’t think I could survive very long without. Even though I kinda exploded on everyone so maybe I’m gonna have to test my theory on how long I can really survive. 

“Hey Doc,” I greeted pushing up the door of the restaurant. 

“Hey sweetheart, how ya been?” He queried.

“I’ve been better,” 

“I hear ya,” He nodded. 

Once we were in the back of the restaurant aka his office. I pulled out the diamond. Doc knew everything about everyone and anything. He could also make a duplicate of anything you gave him. 

“Whatcha got for me?” He asked, rubbing his hands together. 

“This, I’m not sure what it is,” 

I placed the bird pendant on the desk. I found it in a shoe box filled with my mom's stuff. 

“I was wondering if you knew,” 

He lifted it up to his eye to get a better view, His eyesight so bad that his glasses were practically a magnifying glass. 

“It’s a crest, I don’t think I’ve seen this before it’s most likely from a government branch,” He placed it back down on his messy desk. “I can do some more extensive research for you if you’d like,” 

“Yes, that’d be great,” 

“Stop by again tomorrow and I’ll fill you

I wish I never went back to Doc’s place or found out about flash drive, Vulture, SHIELD, any of it. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get anymore fucked up the devil came out the woodworks and spit in my face. 

Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you

“I remember all that testing they did after I agreed to do whatever Stark needed me to do sooo badly. I still don’t really know what he did- or he’s doing with all that DNA and other stuff he’d gotten from me,” 

Aren’t the Avengers and by default Tony Stark products of SHIELD so wouldn't that mean whoever’s behind all of that could’ve been the one to tell Tony about the fire thing in the first place. 

That had been the main thing about the whole Stark situation that I still couldn’t figure out. Someone needs to tell me how he found out and they better tell me now. 

“There are multiple lacerations 1-2 inches lining the upper and lower abdomen,” The doctor lady announced to her assistant. Before moving her cold hand away from my side pushing my shirt back down. 

Okay that’s chill nothing I haven’t had before. 

“We’re gonna have to do another X-ray is that okay?” Her assistant asked. I wasn’t going to bother to learn their names. I was planning to stay that long anyways. 

What’s the point? They’re just going to come back and say the machine is broken and then do another blood test. 

“Yeah sure,” 

I was led into a much bigger room than the last. There was much more machinery too. 

I was strapped down to a cold blue cushioned table by leather straps. Straps weren’t really necessary, not like I was planning on lashing out and mauling anyone. 

I closed my eyes when the flashes of the machine went off. Apparently I had fractured three of my ribs and bruised my sternum. 

You’d think they’d let me go now but noooo they need more blood and then when they were done drawing blood. 

They had to hook me up to a machine to monitor- I don’t even fucking know what they were monitoring. 

I just know I had all the pads with wires on my temples and chest and everywhere else. It reminded me of that one time I had to do a sleep study. 

Except they didn’t have holographs to read off and fancy probably government funded tech then. They sure as hell didn’t have all this whispering either. Or maybe they did and I was just unconscious.

Still I didn’t even want to actually be here and I was cold for once. 

“How much long do we have here?” I groaned.

“Not much longer. We just have and MRI left,” 

Yeah right. I was gonna be in here for the rest of my life

“I could probably go back there if I wanted answers,” I spoke quietly. 

“But I don’t want the government in my business like that well at least just not more than they probably are already at least and the tests are so invasive,” 

Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing

That’s not the only invasive thing in my life. Or should I say was in my life? I don’t fucking care really.

 My dad was somehow the strictest and the most lenient person ever. I think he just wanted control.

 I used to blame his alcoholism for everything he did but no really he’s just a shitty person. A shitty person who likes to beat on women and take doors off the hinges. 

“You are so pathetic!” My mom screamed at my dad. 

 They had been at this all night. For so long that I’m seriously contemplating jumping out of this small window right now. 

Sapphire had no qualms sleeping on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Aaliyah and I however were still wide awake. 

I’m not sure exactly what was going on in her head but I’m assuming we're still up for the same reason. To kill our dad if he even touches our mom. 

I had a kitchen knife in hand as I sat on the bathroom sink. I always had a knife every time my dad started yelling a little too aggressively just in case but this time felt different. Like I was really prepared to stab him this time. 

I didn’t know what it was but something felt off. 

“Are they done?” Aaliyah asked, rubbing her eyes. The apartment had fallen silent. 

“I don’t know. Stay here,” I hopped down off the sink. 

I should’ve known she wasn’t gonna listen to me. The kitchen was empty which means they must’ve moved to their room.  

The next moment was the sort straight out of a family sitcom except the family was falling apart and the kids were going crazy but otherwise it could’ve very well been an “oopsie” misunderstanding moment. Where the younger child asks “Are mommy and daddy getting a divorce?” 

Then the oldest child pulls them into their body and whispers “I dunno kiddo,” or “No they’re just going through a rough patch,” anything like that.

 Except it wasn’t that. That wasn’t what she said and that wasn’t what Aaliyah asked me. 

God how I wish that was what she asked me. 

I have a bad habit of acting before I think. I opened the door opening my mouth to let out the words in my brain. 

“You’re dying? How are you dying?” 

They both turned to look at me like they were just noticing they weren’t alone. 

My mom sighed moving closer to me grabbing my arm. 

“I’m- Im not no ones dying,” 

The door creaked as Aaliyah pushed her way into the room. 

“But you said ‘I need you to step up you need to know how to handle it when I’m dead’,” She paraphrased cleaning out the cuss words. 

“It didn’t mean literally dying right now,” 

Now I could see how this could be us just jumping to conclusions from like two sentences but she had been weird lately. Like she’s always traveled a lot and been secretive but lately she’s been extra secretive. 

And I could tell the secret wasn’t to protect herself so whos to say it wasn’t the fact she was currently dying. It actually makes perfect sense. 

I’m starting to wish I wasn’t always right. Stage 4 Lymphoma. Basically we should go coffin shopping pretty soon. 

If only she wasn’t so selfish and would get treatment for it. She couldn’t leave me here by myself. Who’s gonna take care of us if she dies.

 I’d thought about it before and I decided I’d take on the role of caregiver for my sisters but then it was only a what if situation. 

Wade has cancer and he’s not dead but that’s only because he got pumped with like super drugs shit. 

Now I just needed to find some super drugs and figure out how to get her to take them. 

Fuck Cancer and fuck my dad. Why couldn’t he have gotten the diagnosis instead of my mom. A life for a life type beat. 

I guess that wouldn’t have made for a good tragic backstory would it. And what fun is life without a tragic backstory.

 My only question is when does the backstory end and when does the actual plot begin because clearly I’m not there yet. It’s only tragedy after tragedy.

 Maybe that is my story, just pain and suffering. Someone has to be the butt of the joke. 

She won't let you fly but she might let you sing

“You always told me to surround myself with people who you could block out the rest of the world with. Peter’s like that so was Olivia she was one of those people for me. When we weren’t yelling at each other or crying, I mean. Still wish you could’ve met her though,” 

“AH YES!” I exclaimed, pumping my fist. “I found it,” I waved the joint in the air. 

“Alright come sit down then,” Olivia laughed, patting the seat on the couch next to her. 

“Shit,” I muttered. “Where’s the lighter?” 

She just laughed at me again. Before reaching into my pocket and slipping it out. I couldn’t help but smile at how intimate that action felt for no reason at all. 

I quickly and lightly pressed my lips to hers muttering a quick “thank you,” 

About three minutes had passed and I could feel the weed taking course through my system. 

My head was in her lap until I abruptly shot up gasping at the beginning of Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean. 

“Dance with me,” I pleaded it didn’t take much convincing because here we were twirling around. Although it was much more giggling than dancing. 

I bumped my leg on the glass coffee table and immediately apologized making Liv and I laugh so hard I almost peed my pants.

I was laid out on the soft white fur rug with Olivia laying her chin on my chest. I ran my hands through her hair. 

It was actually very easy there were no knots my fingers just glided smoothly through. 

“I mean shit,” I breathed “I know I can’t run from the rest of the world forever but until then? Bitch you can call me Flash cause I’m zoomin’.” 

She giggled at that before speaking up.

“You don’t have to run you can just stay here with me forever,” 

Her words were so genuine it made me want to cry. She basically just said “I love you” in more or less words. 

“You know what? I think I might,” 

She gave me a tired smile, turning her head to place a kiss on the top of my breast. 

I smiled back at her and how adorable she looked right now. I just want to kiss her for the rest of forever. 

When I glanced back down at her I could hear her breathing slow and her eyes had fluttered shut. She was asleep. 

I felt all warm and fuzzy and at peace and I couldn’t tell if it was the weed or if it was just being in Olivia’s presence. 

I wasn’t ready to say these words to her when she was conscious yet maybe I’d never be ready but I’d say them now. Just to get them off my chest. 

“I love you,” I whispered. 

I never really felt comfortable saying that to anyone. Probably a result of not hearing it enough as a child or something. My family’s never been affectionate anyway. That’s fine because I wasn’t my family, I was my own person. 

Stroking her hair gently before drifting off to the land of dreams myself.

So much for forever huh? 

It’s funny to think how I took times like that for granted if only I knew those were some of the only moments of normalcy I’d get for a while. I’d spent too much time thinking about what could’ve been with almost everything. 

So much so that I didn’t take much time to actually be. Now I feel like I’ve made it to the point of no return. Not mentally but like with everyone else around me. I think I pushed people too far away this time. Not so sure I could get them back. 

“Uh I can't really remember what I’ve already told you so I’ll run through it all. This vigilante or superhero Spiderman started doing his thing then I got caught up in his mess.” That was most definitely an oversimplification but what do I look like telling my mom I was a well known thief. “Then his relation to Tony Stark got extended to me so now I kinda do stuff for him but I don’t work for him.” 

I don't work for him he might think I do, but in reality he works for me. I had almost everyone at the compound wrapped around my finger. 

“I don’t think I really wanna work for anyone. I was offered to be an Avenger in training but that isn’t really my style. I will use his gym though.” I rambled on. 

It was kinda weird how easy it was to rant to my mom like this because not like she could voice her opinions about anything. I guess I hadn’t visited in so long that I forgot what it was like. 

Mama's gonna keep baby cosy and warm

“Oh!” I exclaimed remembering a very important factor that I left out. “Then we have the whole Staten Island fiasco that I told you about. I remember telling you that. I’m still searching for answers on how I did that too,” 

Like some real answers not that radiation BS.

“Your phone’s broken,” I pointed out the cracked screen sitting on the wood. 

“Oh shit!” Peter cried “May’s gonna kill me this is the second phone I’ve broken this month,” 

I came off way calmer than I was feeling. I’m surprised I wasn’t running around screaming right about now. I was probably just paralyzed in fear. 

How do you react in a situation like this in the first place. 

“Okay how long are we going to be sitting here? What are we waiting on?” We’d be up here looking down at the fire crackling underneath the pier for like 15 minutes now. 

“I don’t know actually,” He sighed. 

“Uh…” 

How was I supposed to respond to that? That was the driest response to anything in the history of the world.

 “Well since I’ve already pinky promised I won’t spill your secret can I ask some questions while we wait for you to figure it out?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” He nodded, shaking his arms. 

“Okay number one did you think I had died or something because if someone burst into flames in front of me I’d probably think Satan was coming for me. I’d cry too,” I laughed but had to stop myself as the stabbing in my ribs ran through me. 

“No, I didn’t think you were dead, you had a pulse,” He pointed out “Maybe I could’ve thought you were dying though. And I wasn’t crying,” 

Liar. He so was crying. 

“Aw you don’t have to lie I think it’s cute,” I teased if I didn’t feel like my body was falling apart I might’ve poked his side.

“Alright, second question: do the webs like come out of you? Cause that’s kinda disgusting,” 

“No, I make them with chemicals ‘n stuff. I’d explain the science to you but I’m not sure how much you’d care.” 

I let out a small laugh knowing what feeling would come if I laughed too hard. 

“I mean you could explain it ‘m just not sure how much of it I’d understand,” 

We both laughed at that. 

“On the topic of the webs what’s there integrity like how well do they hold up or like how long,” 

“Uh…” He blew out a breath running his hands over his face “As far as I know they last up to two hours. That is unless someone cuts them or something,” 

I couldn’t help but wonder if Thorn was one of those someone’s to cut the webs maybe I was the only someone. I didn’t really need to ask the question. Aaron had already answered the question for me when he told me about the deal at the ferry. I just wanted to see what Peter would tell me honestly. 

I spent the rest of the night asking questions and cracking jokes. I was talking for so long I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten. 

It should be a world record how fast I managed to fuck up 5 friendships. Well it’s my personal best at least. Only took like 4 minutes. 

I feel like that’s all I do is just fuck up everything. I used to believe there was a difference between being fucked up and being a fuckup but the older I get the more I realize that there isn’t. 

It’s like someone built a self destruct button in my head and every time something good happens to me I feel the need to run away. 

Like Peter he’s literally perfect he's smart, respectful,  adorable, and selfless. He’s literally a fucking superhero for godsake. 

I was trying so hard not to fall asleep. I really was but all the Trigonometry chapter was doing was mixing with the sound of rain outside and triggering the urge to fall into a deep sleep. 

“Okay,” Peter tapped his textbook with his pen. I wish I could be confident enough to do math with a pen. 

“So sin is equal to the opposite of whatever angle you’re trying to find so first you have too…” 

He droned on, I knew he was talking about the math problem lying on the bed in front of me but I wasn’t listening. Maybe if I sat at the desk I could actually be paying attention right now. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hmm?” I sat up on my elbows yawning.

“Are you tired?” 

I just hummed again. Until I realized what the question was. I reached for my phone and it was already 9:03 that woke me up for sure.

“Oh shit! I gotta get back,” 

Not like I’d get in trouble or anything but Carmen would get on my ass about the fact I didn’t come back when I said I would then she’d make something out of nothing. 

I scrambled around trying to find all my things to put them back in my bag.

“Wait it’s raining though,” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah,” I chuckled “It’s New York it’s always raining,” 

“Yeah but it’s cold and wet and dark so if you tried to skate you’d probably get hurt,” 

I knew what he was doing and it was working because frankly all his excuses were shit because one I don’t get cold and two I could just walk and there are lights everywhere but I was gonna stay anyway. I was too tired to argue right now. 

“May!” Peter shouted.

“Yes?” She called back. 

“Can Y/N stay for the night?” 

“Yeah if her parents are okay with it,” 

That’s how I ended up wearing some shirt with some dumb science pun sitting on the couch watching Aladdin for like the millionth time ever. I was singing along to One jump ahead  when I felt eyes on me. 

I turned my head but before I could make eye contact with Peter he acted as if he was watching the movie the whole time.

“What?” I giggled. Fuck, I hadn’t like genuinely giggled in the longest time.

“Nothing,” He replied, turning back towards the TV again. 

This time I was the one to stare at him wondering what was going on in his head. Not even the fourth song in and I was already yawning struggling to keep my head up.

 This goes to show how much willpower I had because I couldn’t even stop my eyelids from falling shut. I deserved to sleep though I’d been exhausted lately. 

There’s only like 6 people on this planet that I trust enough to fall asleep around and surprisingly Peter had become one with like 5 months of knowing me.

 I would still trust him if given the chance I’m just not sure how much he trusts me right now. I understand though. I don’t deserve anyone’s trust. 

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious​

[365days365movies]

April 5, 2021: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) (Recap: Part One)

Yeah, so...Spectrum exploded last night.

So, I'm unfortunately a little behind. BUT NEVER FEAR! I'll get back on time before you know it! So, uh...where were we last time? OH RIGHT! Let's talk about black comedy. And I don't mean black-and-white comedies, or comedies prominently featuring African-American culture and demographic. No, I mean dark comedies.

The "black comedy" functions off of macabre or taboo humor and jokes, and is often closely associated with biting satire and commentary in film. That definition is loose as hell, I know, but it's all about the subject matter. The most common subject matter for dark humor is death, of course, and related subjects to death. War, murder, strife, madness, and violence are also common topics here.

Some of the best comedies are black comedies, though. For example, Brazil (1985; dir. Terry Gilliam) focuses on themes of depression, dreams, terrorism, totalitarian governments, and madness. And it's GREAT. How about The Death of Stalin (2018; dir. Armando Iannucci)? The title ALONE should tell you everything you need to know about the tone and topic, AND YET...

It's HILARIOUS. And also informative! If you haven't seen it, I definitely recommend it. And again, that film is about, well...the death of Stalin, and the fallout of his disastrous and murderous regime. Dark, DARK topic, but very funny movie.

Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is about war; Fargo is about murder in North Dakota; Heathers is about a toxic relationship and the death and murder of teenagers; Birdman, or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance is about an actor's existential crisis and complete mental breakdown; and Trainspotting is about the devastating effects of drug addiction and features a DEAD BABY FOR CHRIST'S SAKE...and yet they're all full of laughs! Except for the baby scene. Fuck me, the baby scene in Trainspotting.

So, yeah, these are a diverse group of films, that's for sure. But where does it all start? There's 1942's To Be or Not to Be (dir. Ernst Lubitsch), which is about a Polish theatre company who need to escape in the midst of...well, 1942 Poland. If you don't get why that's dark, you should probably look up some history, bud. Charlie Chaplin would dip into the role in 1947's Monsieur Verdoux, which I mentioned last time. And there's the seldom-talked-about Kind Hearts and Coronets (dir. Robert Hamer), a 1949 film about murder for status, essentially.

But it's hard to argue that the most prominent early black comedy is 1944's Cary Grant vehicle, Arsenic and Old Lace.

Directed by Frank Capra, this film was based on a 1941 stage play, and is about...well, we'll get to it. While its prominence as a black comedy is one reason I'm watching this movie, the other is...well, to be honest, this is a movie I heard about CONSTANTLY from my Mom, as this is one of her favorites. And yet, like Dirty Dancing, I've somehow never seen it! Let's remedy that.

So, without further ado, let's get into it! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The film starts off with a BANG, as a man calls me a “big simp” to my face! Actually, he’s screaming at a Brooklyn Dodgers game, where a massive fight breaks out. This fight quickly transitions to a city hall, where a line of people are waiting to file marriage licenses. Amongst the line is Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) and Elaine Harper (Priscilla Lane).

Brewster is hiding from the press, as he’s a famous reviewer, and author of the Bachelor’s Bible, and it would be quite the scandal for him to get married. And yet, he’s head over heels in love with Elaine. After going through an existential crisis about the whole thing, he gives into Elaine’s sweet demeanor, and the two file their marriage license officially.

It’s Halloween day, and we move from the city to the suburbs of Brooklyn, where two policemen, O’Hara (Jack Carson) and Sanders (John RIdgely) are on patrol. Sanders tells O’Hara of the kindly Brewster Sisters, the sweetest women on Earth, both of whom live in the neighborhood. Currently, they are being visited by Reverend Harper (Grant Mitchell), Elaine’s father. He’s speaking with Abby (Josephine Hull) and Martha Brewster (Jean Adair), the kindly aunts of Mortimer. 

Also living there is Mortimer’s brother Teddy Brewster (John Alexander), who apparently believes that he’s Teddy Roosevelt, which is...hilarious. Dude is hilarious, seriously. The cops come over to visit the two, and collect some clothes and toys for local charity. Also, Teddy only leaves a room by screaming “CHAAAAARGE!!!”, and running up the stairs, and I love Teddy a lot.

Reverend Harper and the cops leave for the night, and the sisters settle down for the evening. Abby and Martha state that their plans for Elaine and Mortimer should go as scheduled, which is probably talking about their marriage. Abby also mentions that she’s done something while she was away, to Martha’s delight and surprise. They tell Teddy that he’ll soon be digging a new lock for the Panama Canal...whatever that means.

Martha’s about to go to the basement to see what Abby’s done, but she states that because she was all by herself, the surprise is in the window seat. As she’s about to look at the surprise, Elaine shows up in the window, and the two arrive to give the happy news that they’re married. Elaine goes to tell her father of the news, while Mortimer goes to tell his sweet aunts. Afterwards, the two will be on their honeymoon, going to Niagara Falls. And I should say, they’re quite a sweet couple.

After telling the news to his aunts, he asks them where his notes are for his new controversial book, Mind Over Matrimony. They go to look for it around the house, and Teddy comes downstairs, dressed up in attire to “go to Panama.” Aunt Abby comes across a childhood picture of Jonathan, Mortimer’s brother and apparently a violent sociopath or some sort. She goes to burn the picture (geez), and Mortimer continues to look for the notes. He goes to the window seat.

Yup! It’s a body! Looks like Abby and Martha’s sweet old lady act is a guise for some myurder! Which I know, just because it’s the most famous thing about the movie. However, Mortimer thinks the murderer is Teddy, and tells his sweet old aunts about the body, asking that he gets put into an asylum. But Abby notes that Teddy didn’t kill the man, and they already know about the body!

Which, yeah, surprises Mortimer, obviously.

Abby cheerfully admits that the man, Mr. Hoskins, was poisoned by a tainted glass of elderberry wine, and that they did so on purpose, hiding the body before the Reverend came for a visit. The whole thing isn’t a big deal; it’s just Abby and Martha’s little secret!

After they leave, and brush off the whole thing as easy as needlepoint or macramé as a hobby, Mortimer, is completely broken by the whole affair, and is partially convinced that he’s dreaming. All the while, Elaine’s trying to get Mortimer to come over and speak with her father. But Mortimer can’t exactly forget about this whole silly murder thing, and goes to confront his aunts about it. He learns that Teddy’s digging not a lock, but a grave in the cellar. As he’s done with 10 other bodies. Or maybe it’s 11 others?

After picking up a phone call from Elaine, then hanging up abruptly (and understandably), Mortimer finds out how this whole thing started. See, the two have a “Renters Wanted” sign in their front lawn, and the neighborhood thinks that it’s there so the two sweet old ladies can offer help to anyone in need, even though they aren’t actually renting to anyone. In reality...well, they do it for another reason.

See, an older gentleman stopped by a bit ago, and he had a heart attack right there in the living room. After seeing how peaceful he looked, the two decided to bring in other lonely old men and bring in the same kind of peace. And from there...well, yeah, you get the general idea. They’ve been poisoning them with arsenic, strychnine, and cyanide mixed in with elderberry wine. Apparently, Martha’s got the mixture just right so that it tastes delicious. With all this explained, they offer Mortimer a sip of wine. Which he’s understandably nervous about.

But with all of that done, Elaine comes over to check in on him. But he’s not able to tell her anything, which greatly (and understandably) confuses her. He basically kicks her out (which enrages her, once again understandably), and calls a judge with the intent to frame the whole affair on Teddy, who’s always been.unstable. Which, for the record, is not even SLIGHTLY going to solve the problem.

But as he’s on the phone, a man named Gibbs (Edward McWade) comes in to rent an apartment. He’s all alone in the world, with nobody to care for him. And of course, this leads to the women trying to poison him with the wine. It’s a funny yet tense moment as he stops just short of drinking the wine, distracted by Mortimer’s freakout over the phone. But Mortimer gets off the phone JUST in time to scare Gibbs away and stop him from drinking the wine. And it is...VERY funny, goddamn.

As Mortimer tries to tell the aunts exactly what’s wrong with what they’re doing, the phone rings. It’s a call from Witherspoon (Edward Everett Horton), who runs an asylum that Mortimer wants Teddy committed into. However, they don’t quite have room for him, as they have too many Theodore Roosevelts at present. However, they do need more Napoleon Bonapartes. I love this goddamn movie.

Still, Witherspoon agrees to take him in despite that, and Mortimer head out to get the paperwork done. However, he asks his aunts to not do anything until he gets back, and he also proises that he’ll attend the “services” for their latest victim. He leaves, and kinda steals a cabbie’s car in the process (I love this movie, I’m telling you), and Abby and Martha start shutting things down for the night. However, as they do, they get a mysterious knock on the door. They pretend not to be home...only for a man with an ominous scar to enter the room regardless.

Let’s pause here, shall we? See you in Part 2!

[deafmanscharade]

As an add on to my previous post because I’m feeling talkative...

People found out I was abused (some of which was very recent but not familial)

And they want to know how. What form? How old was I? Why didn’t I say anything?

None of that is the point, but I’ll tell you some stories because ... maybe they’ll appease societal need to ask survivors what they went through before they’re ready to talk.

I’ll also say, I hate therapy. I’ve tried all kinds of mental health therapy because I want to be normal (whatever that is). I hate all of it. Rehashing trauma, for me, doesn’t help it. And I, as you see, can never stick to one thing.

SO, I’ll start at my roots.

My mother didn’t want me. She aborted a baby before me and when she got pregnant during a bender she went to my grandmother to take her to get aborted again. My grandmother refused and said that it was time for my mother to have a baby.

The other one was when my mother was 15. She had me when she was 30. My grandfather still doesn’t know he should have 2 grandchildren on my mom’s side.

I found out my mother didn’t want me when I was 31 and so many pieces that were slightly shaped wrong fell into place.

I was born a month premature, with Cerebral Palsy. I came home on Mother’s Day.

My mother and father were both addicts. My father once left me in a mall. Literally forgot about me. I was 3. My father loved drugs, my mother loves alcohol.

My grandfather found out about my mother’s habits and demanded we move in with my grandmother (they divorced in the 70s but lived down the street from each other). We did. I turned 4 and my mom forgot so my Ute (step grandmother) went out snd bought me a sheet cake and balloons after a five hour shift at the hair salon.

And two years later my mom moved us three hours away from the only family members I had any kinship with. She met my step dad. Who meant well but had problems of his own. We have since reconciled to the best of our ability but my childhood was literal hellfire on all sides.

When people ask me I say “ever heard Hell is for Children By Pat Benatar? That. I was bought off instead of parented. I was never taught basics.

It was the 90s and kids were mean. Forrest Gump is a personal attack when it comes out because for years it was the biggest joke to scream “Run Kira Run!” And throw things that would get stuck in my AFOs at me.

My only knowledge of childhood and teenage rites of passage is through teenage rom coms, WB, and TGIF. Practical application of things like driving a car, first dated, big games? No. I spent all of my time devouring pop culture and breathing musical theatre.

There was physical abuse, intimidation, verbal and mental abuse everywhere. At home, at school, on the street.

When i finally figured out it’s because I was different I’m being mean to myself because I can’t do I foutee if my ass is on fire.

I’m what I refer to as a human yellow line. I’m directly in the middle. Not disabled enough to be considered disabled or be in different classes or hang with the other disabled kids. Not able-bodied enough to make it to broadway, which is literally all I have ever wanted.

Ever tried to injure yourself to either fix your disability or make yourself disabled enough? No? I have. Don’t do it. I was desperate, alone, confused and stupid.

When I was 16 my mom and I were sitting in the basement of my grandmothers house. I’m pretty sure it was Christmas time. A Covergirl commercial starring Ellen came on. My mother says “what does she need to wear makeup for? It’s not like she needs to impress men.

My bisexual ass got her back up and somehow an argument about gay rights turned into her telling me how she made fun of all the disabled kids she went to school with. Had I not been her daughter she’d have no association with me.

I can’t remember how old I was but at some point in my teens my mom got drunk with my aunt and was a mess. I was dutiful and trying to put her to bed. She fell and as I was trying to get her up again, she told me I was a burden and she wished I was never born. I thought it was the drink talking. At 17 I got the courage to ask her how often I’d seen her sober and she looked me in the eyes, shrugged, said probably never, and left the room.

Girls always date thier fathers right? I developed intimacy issues because when I refused to have sec with a partner, he threw me through a glass table. I called the ambulance myself. I have sworn off dating because nearly every partner I’ve had has been physically abusive. To use a term I despise, because of how I was raised, it’s what I gravitate to because it’s what I know and understand. I don’t have alarms. I have “please love me no ones ever loved me before”

I do have physical reactions now, to bring it back to Dean, Jess, and the solace that is GG. The sweet after a fight, the straight path to violence and intimidation with the excuse being he’s a “good ol’ boy”, the inviting himself in or over, the fight with Lindsay over the phone. If you see that as Love or perfect boyfriend I’m scared.

When Jess said “tell me these things so I don’t have to find out from telephone polls” I cried for 2 hours. Because I’d never seen a male NOT haul off

I’m not here to tell anyone anything about doing anything. I just wish we were more aware of what we were consuming while consuming it

[drummahqueen]

Have you ever met someone so real yet so unreal? Like, that person literally exists (sadly) but you can’t believe how selfish, disgraceful, miserable and at the same time pitiful his life can be?

It’s so sad that I have to say this and usually, I’m not the person to care (like I should) but our lives being affected directly and it’s so alarming.

I have an uncle whose real name I’m not gonna mention but let’s call him Seong Gi-Hun. And for those people who knows me and knows my family, I have a bunch of uncles so good luck finding out who he is.

When I was in college he came to live with us. My Dad, who’s an architect then, gave him a job in his construction company. Uncle Seong Gi-Hun left his family in their city and came to our province to live with us. Again, we lived in a countryside. They were in the city. He had 5 kids, and a wife. Or so I thought.

A few days after staying with us he told my parents that the reason he left his family is because his wife, let’s call her Song Hye Kyo, is seeing another man. My mom is so upset and she comforted my uncle because of what he said. He looked so sad too.

Aunt Song Hye Kyo was really so modest from what I remember in my childhood, and I hadn’t seen her get mad over anything since. She’s always so gentle and so loving to her kids and even to me, her husband’s niece. But I didn’t really care a lot back then when I heard the story about her. I guess I just, shook it off.

A few months later our neighbor came running around holding a bolo knife chasing Uncle Gi-Hun. My uncle quickly hid inside our house. INSIDE OUR HOUSE WITH MY GRADE SCHOOL BROTHER AND MY DAD WHO HAD CANCER. Our neighbor kept banging our front gate until he felt tired, I would assume.

It turned out our neighbor caught Uncle Gi-Hun having sex with his wife that day. And so the bolo chase explanation.

Soon enough, we found out that he isn’t only hiding from the bolo man in the neighborhood, but also from a lot of people in their city, hence, came to live with us. He was so deeply in debt because of gambling, he even sold the house my grandma bought and abandoned his family because he couldn’t pay off everything he owed.

He ran away from us and I didn’t hear anything from him since then. Not until a few months back.

It’s been a decade. He’s now married to a different woman (who later turned out to be a drug addict) and they’ve 2 kids. I don’t know what trouble he is in again but it looks like he is. Maybe it’s something to do with drugs. Because again, he’s in hiding. Or maybe it’s gambling again. I don’t trust him. I don’t know what lies he told my mom and my aunt (who lives near my mom) but he showed up in the province again with his 2 kids.

But his cycle goes that way always and there’s no more room for trust. I just hope when he gets his karma, he gets it on his own and not involve my family. You see, he brings down everyone he gets to be with. And I don’t want to be associated with that kind of person ever.

I know it’s too early to judge him but we’ve also invested on too much and he never shows he changes. Like recently I learned that what he said about Aunt Song Hye Kyo wasn’t true at all. She never had an affair with anyone and I felt really bad for believing my uncle back in the days.

Also, when my grandma died, he wasn’t at home. Who knows where he went but he left my grandma alone at home without food in their own home and their neighbors told my mom she didn’t have food ‘cause she has to ask food from the neighbors. She died just like that.

My uncle said he didn’t receive money from my aunt who was in another country back then because she just left and she didn’t have a salary yet. My brother and I had to help my mom shoulder everything in the funeral expenses. And then a few months ago I learned that my aunt in Saudi actually did send Uncle Gu-Hun some pretty good amount of cash during my grandma’s funeral. See what he did there?

He’s never gonna change.

You see, all the choices we make today affect our future. The decisions we make not only shape our present but also seeds our future. My Uncle Gi-Hun showed a lot of imperfections. Based on his current state in life, he obviously isn’t in a straight arrow. All his actions in the past came to bite him in the present, just like the Gi-Hun character in Squid Game. Unfortunately, all the wrong calls will only lead to an even greater danger. I just hope he stays away from my family when the danger happens, especially now that my mom is aging and my brother just had a child. I can’t risk them around him.

Whatever you are going through in life, always remember that gambling never gives you an assurance for a better life. They say that a gambler is nothing but a man who makes his living out of false hope. It MAY be a way to win a quick buck, but it’s never guaranteed.  The more you pitch your dreams to the slimmest of chances, you could end up losing everything.

Lastly, money may be important but the wrong love for money is the root of all evil. I say wrong love because everyone loves money but to assume that love in general for money makes you evil isn’t right at all.

I love money too but I like it because I want to offer a better life for the family my husband and I are creating. And I work hard to earn it. I don’t get my hands in dirty work just to get money. Saying having money doesn’t guarantee happiness is partly incorrect. That will only happen if, like Uncle Gi-Hun, you do shameless things because of money. Having money will obviously assure happiness since you can provide all the needs of your family and even make their lives more comfortable.

Not loving money is foolish and hypocrite. You have to love it in order to have it. Not loving money is a poor mindset. A mindset of people who doesn’t want to move forward and stuck forever being poor. So love your money the right amount. And just like fate, it will love you back.

So many lessons from this person’s failures and I hope we don’t take after him. Let’s not be a disgrace to our family and loved ones. Again, love your money the right amount.

[suttcnfm]

hi  it’s  me  your  least  favorite  (  and  most  favorite  )  person  hailey  back  at  it  again  making  a  bio  that’s  way  too  long  .  this  is  sutton  ,  she’s  my  whimiscal  fairy  child  who’s  endured  a  lot  please  be  gentle  with  her  !!  or  ruin  her  life  !!  whatever  you  want  !!

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊.  𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

( elizabeth lail, cisfemale, she/her, pisces, 25 ) i spotted sutton harvey at the beach today. don’t you know them? they live down by the boardwalk and usually hang out with the artists & boho clique. from what i’ve heard, they can be finicky, but they’re also effervescent. i always think of them when i hear fuck it i love you - lana del rey and tend to associate them with mom jeans stained with acrylic paint, the taste of strawberry lemonade, & white cotton sundresses

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 

sutton elise harvey

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬) 

her mom used to call her ellie

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 

february 22nd

𝐚𝐠𝐞 

twenty - five ( 25 )

𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 

five foot eight inches ( 5′ 8″ )

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

female 

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 

she / her

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧(𝐬)

painter and art contributor for sunhollow museum

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞(𝐬) 

english & french

𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 

bisexual & biromantic

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦

elizabeth lail

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜

pisces sun, gemini rising, & aries moon

𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

chaotic neutral 

𝐦𝐛𝐭𝐢 

enfp-a

𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞

type 4w3 ( the individualist )

𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 

sanguine-melancholic

𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 

hufflepuff

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 

how she loves others - acts of service, gift giving, & quality time

how she needs to be loved - quality time & physical touch

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨

cassie ainsworth ( skins )  ,  luna lovegood ( harry potter )  , bubbles ( powerpuff girls ) , claire colburn ( elizabethtown ) , bmo ( adventure time )

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒗. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲

triggers  (  these  are  all  the  triggers  as  they  appear  throughout  ,  they  will  be  tagged  accordingly  )  :  death  mention  ,  cancer  and  death  tw  ,  drug  mention  ,  sexual  assault  tw  ,  addiction  tw  ,  drugs  tw  ,  and  drug  mention

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 

the  first  time  warm  brown  eyes  peered  into  her  mothers  a  connection  was  formed  ,  the  eldest  daughter  to  what  would  soon  be  an  expansive  harvey  household  .  this  very  moment  would  be  the  catalyst  of  a  bond  that  formed  sutton  into  who  she  is  ,  though  i  am  getting  ahead  of  myself  .

sutton  harvey  grew  up  in  julian  california  a  town  that  carried  the  suffocating  small  town  feel  of  suburbia  despite  being  mere  minutes  outside of  the  hustle  and  bustle  of  los  angeles  .  though  it  should  be  mentioned  that  she  preferred  the  quiet  stillness  of  a  town  where  she  could  known  by  someone  for  something  .

her  parents  were  an  interesting  pair  .  her  mother  a  free  spirited  enigmatic  young  woman  who  believed  in  healing  through  love  and  nature  ,  and  her  father  a  struggling  mean  -  spirited  business  tycoon  always  looking  for  the  next  thing  he  could  exploit  .  but  despite  their  clashing  personalities  and  seemingly  opposite  morals  ,  they  were  in  love  ,  had  been  since  high  school  ,  and  they  balanced  each  other  out  almost  perfectly  . 

but  as  it  turns  out  almost  perfect  wasn’t  good  enough  for her  father  ,  who  split  when  she  was  eight  ,  leaving  behind  sutton’s  heart  broken  mother  ,  and  five  kids  to  raise  alone  .

the  family  was  hardly  making  a  enough  to  survive  before  the  sudden  departure  of  her  father  ,  and  so  this  left  an  eight  -  year  -  old  sutton  to  step  up  to  the  plate  and  help  her  mother  ,  raising  her  siblings  while  her  mom  tried  to  find  steady  work  .   

as  the  years  went  on  and  her  siblings  had  more  and  more  needs  things  only  got  more  difficult  .  trying  to  provide  for  five  children  on  one  paycheck  isn’t  exactly  the  easiest  thing  that  one  can  do  after  all  .

sutton  prayed  that  she’d  be  graced  with  the  same  mean  streak  that  her  father  had  ,  but  alas  she  was  gentle  at  heart  ,  similar  to  her  mother  an  enigmatic  personality  that  was  hard  to  pin  down  .

while  it  worked  in  her  benefit  with  most  people  ,  it  is  difficult  to  raise  children  without  practical  dreams  ,  something  sutton  had  never  been  a  fan  of  ,  there  were  times  when  this  became  a  point  of  contention  between  her  and  younger  sister  reece  ,  but  for  the  most  part  her  siblings  recognized  how  difficult  a  thing  their  sister  was  doing  .  

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞. 

DEATH MENTION  her  teenage  years  came  much  faster  than  she  anticipated  ,  and  while  life  had  been  mostly  smooth  sailing  in  her  eyes  ,  there  were  things  that  sutton  simply  wasn’t  prepared  for  .  the  loss  of  her  mother  was  one  of  them  .

CANCER & DEATH TW  unbeknownst  to  any  of  her  children ,  behind  the  scenes  sutton’s  mother  had  been  suffering  from  breast  cancer  ,  and  she’d  opted  out  of  getting  treatment  ,  something  they  couldn’t  afford  with  the  minimal  money  she  was  bringing  in  ,  and  instead  she  suffered  in  silence  so  they  would  have  a  chance  at  survival  .

everyone  ,  including  sutton  herself  ,  expected  her  to  break  .  the  bond  that  the  two  had  built  was  immeasurable  and  sutton  had  never  shown  the  ablitiy  to  be  grounded  before  .  her  and  her  mother  were  both  two  enigmas  perfectly  coexisting  ,  and  suddenly  it  was  up  to  sutton  to  figure  out  what  to  do  .

DRUGS & ALCOHOL TW   enter  sutton’s  aunt  ,  claire  ,  who  begrudgingly  left  her  life  in  las  vegas  to  come  and  watch  over  her  nieces  and  nephews  at  the  price  that  she  would  blow  most  of  the  money  the  received  on  drugs  and  alcohol  .

DRUG MENTION  there  wasn’t  a  day  sutton  could  remember  that  she  didn’t  come  home  to  her  aunt  passed  out  with  vodka  bottles  littering  the  floor  or  strung  out  on  coke  with  a  man  sutton  had  never  seen  before  on  their  couch  .

sutton’s  resilience  was  the  only  thing  that  kept  her  going  ,  she  shielded  her  siblings  from  as  much  as  she  could  ,  knowing  that  this  was  the  last  thing  they  needed  to  be  their  reality  ,  and  for  the  most  part  ,  it  worked  .

SEXUAL ASSAULT TW  then  came  another  decimating  blow  ,  on  a  day  like  any  other  sutton’s  aunt  for  once  sober  enough  to  drive  ,  pulled  sutton  out  of  school  early  and  took  her  home  .  and  what  seemed  like  an  out  of  character  behavior  for  aunt  to  exhibit  ,  became  crystal  clear  when  sutton  saw  the  man  waiting  for  her  on  the  couch  .

SEXUAUL ASSAULT TW  this  became  another  habit  of  her  aunt’s  ,  pulling  sutton  out  of  school  in  order  to  use  her  body  to  score  drugs  .  then  bringing  her  back  and  forcing  her  to  act  normal  ,  as  if  things  were  still  totally  fine  .

sutton  put  on  a  brave  face  for  her  siblings  ,  but  was  slowly  cracking  under  the  pressure  of  everything  that  seemed  to  be  perfectly  chipping  away  at  the  person  she  once  was  .

this  is  until  she  met  a  boy  ,  a  musician  with  a  similar  story  to  hers  ,  who  she  completely  connected  with  in  a  way  that  was  rivaled  only  by  her  mother  .  him  and  her  seemed  to  have  the  same  bleeding  wounds  that  could  only  be  healed  by  each  other  .

cue  nights  at  the  beach  ,  swapping  stories  ,  and  endless  road  trips  confined  to  their  little  bubble  of  bliss  .  he  fueled  the  artist  within  her  .  painting  upon  painting  of  the  way  he  made  her  feel  ,  how  his  music  moved  her  ,  for  once  the  world  didn’t  seem  so  cruel  .

but  of  course  ,  the  world  was  determined  to  prove  sutton  harvey  wrong  .  with  a  sudden  disappearance  of  both  her  first  love  and  her  aunt  ,  the  latter  of  which  ran  back  to  vegas  with  her  new  beau  ,  she’d  felt  abandoned  just  as  before  .  and  here  is  where  sutton  harvey  finally  cracked  .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡. 

she  and  her  siblings  moved  in  with  her  father  ,  who  living  a  more  lavish  and  childless  lifestyle  with  his  new  fiancée  in  san  diego  .  the  harvey  siblings  were  yet  again  tasked  with  raising  themselves  .

ADDICTION TW  with  her  siblings  growing  older  ,  and  sutton  having  mounds  of  unprocessed  trauma  ,  and  she  began  to  mix  with  the  wrong  crowd  .  finding  the  numbing  of  substances  felt  better  than  the  hollow  numbness  of  being  abandoned  by  every  person  she’d  ever  loved  .

art  and  school  alike  became  distant  priorities  as  she  spent  her  last  nights  as  a  senior  doing  ecstasy  on  the  beach  and  hooking  up  with  randoms  just  to  feel  alive  again  .

DRUGS TW after  just  barely  graduating  ,  sutton  spent  her  new  found  freedom  getting  high  ,  having  sex  ,  and  wasting  her  life  away  .  struggling  to  find  any  sense  of  self  in  everything  she’d  done  ,  her  entire  life  seemed  to  have  been  lived  for  other  people  .

this  only  made  her  further  spiral  ,  trying  to  convince  herself  that  even  though  this  was  having  a  negative  toll  on  her  ,  at  least  for  once  she  was  living  for  herself  .

DRUG MENTION  this  was  until  while  she  was  coming  down  from  an  immense  high  she  stumbled  upon  a  record  store  where  through  the  window  she  caught  a  small  glimpse  of  her  past  ,  of  the  person  she  used  to  be  ,  the  face  of  the  boy  who’d  up  and  left  all  those  years  ago  .

her  entire  world  seemed  to  collide  with  her  heart  at  that  very  moment  .  for  a  fleeting  moment  she  felt  like  the  girl  she  was  in  high  school  ,  full  of  life  ,  love  ,  and  most  importantly  art  .

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

after  this  near  encounter  with  her  past  self  ,  she  worked  heavily  on  getting  sober  .  and  has  now  been  clean  for  five  years  !!

after  her  first  year  of  getting  sober  she  worked  multiple  jobs  to  buy  a  small  studio  apartment  where  she  could  begin  painting  again  ,  and  even  made  strides  to  reconnect  with  her  father  and  her  siblings  whom  she’d  since  distanced  herself  from  .

soon  enough  she  became  an  art  contributor  for  the  local  museum  and  earns  her  income  between  hosting  small  art  galleries  on  the  pier  and  the  aforementioned  art  contributions  .

after  three  years  of  sobriety  ,  more  widely  recognized  art  ,  and  a  proper  relationship  with  her  father  ,  he  gifted  her  a  beach  house  where  she  spends  a  majority  of  her  time  .

what  started  as  one  cat  to  keep  her  company  turned  into  nine  because  if  there’s  one  thing  that  sutton  lacks  it’s  control  .

she  has  fully  embraced  the  person  she  was  and  the  person  she  aims  to  be  .  her  personality  is  a  direct  influence  on  who  her  mother  was  because  if  there’s  anyone  that  sutton  looks  up  into  in  life  ,  it’s  her  .  the  best  way  i  could  describe  her  personality  is  the  embodiment  of  the  quote  ,  “ i  could  never  be  the  main  character  . i  exist  solely  in  the  fevered  imaginations  of  sensitive  writer-directors  to  teach  broodingly  soulful  young  men  to  embrace  life  and  its  infinite  mysteries  .  ”

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 

lavender

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 

light fog because she likes the scenery it creates

𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲 

dawn,  there’s something pure to her about the stillness of the earth at that time of  day and !! it’s when she gets a lot of her painting done !!

𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥(𝐬) 

butterflies and elephants

𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐬

🍒🥺✨😡🌈🦋🤡🥰

𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

penelope harvey ; deceased

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

maxwell harvey  ;  alive

𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬)

reece harvey ; sister 

elizabeth harvey ; sister 

wyatt harvey ; brother 

casey harvey ; brother 

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 

𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

high  school  diploma

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬 

in  order  of  breed  :  poppy  (  scottish  fold  )  ,  milo  (  scottish  fold  )  ,  taz  (  scottish  fold  )  ,  jasper  (  british  shorthair  )  ,  archie  (  british  shorthair  )  ,  sadie  (  british  shorthair  )  ,  ginger  (  maine  coon  )  ,  hunter  (  maine  coon  )  ,  and  felix  (  maine  coon  )

𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬

painting  ,  sketching  ,  learning  languages  ,  reading  ,  photography  ,  writing  ,  sewing  ,  thrifting  ,  playing  instruments  (  mostly  the  guitar  )  ,  and  baking 

𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

a  beach  house  gifted  from  her  father  but  splits  her  time  between  a  studio  apartment  cramped  with  art  and  a  beach  house  filled  with  cats 

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

has  a  tendency  to  not  sleep  enough  ,  has  occasional  nightmares  ,  and  is  prone  to  frequent  tossing  and  turning  .  but  when  she  does  fall  asleep  ,  it’s  almost  a  guarantee  you  won’t  be  able  to  wake  her  up  .  she’s  an  extremely  heavy  sleeper  . 

𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

honestly  it’s  a  toss  -  up  she  either  eats  junk  food  for  a  straight  week  and  has  never  seen  a  vegetable  in  her  life  ,  or  she  is  on  a  health  binge  and all  you’re  going  to  find  in  her  house  is  snap  peas  and  baby  carrots  .

𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

sunrises  ,  house  plants  ,  soft  hands  ,  fuzzy  socks  ,  the  color  yellow  , vanilla  scented  candles  ,  soft  lips  ,  rosy  cheeks  ,  strawberries  ,  freshly manicured  nails  ,  over  sweetened  coffee  ,  kiss  marks  on  napkins  ,  dewy  skin  ,  french  words ,  paint  stained  clothing  ,  midnight  conversations  ,  a  sweet tooth  ,  gold  jewelry  , warm  hugs  ,  gentle  voice  , and  dancing  in  the  rain  .

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗𝒊.  𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

uhhhh  so  i  have  wasted  all  my  brain  power  on  this  so  some  suggestions  are  exes  ,  fwbs  ,  unrequited  crushes  ,  skinny  love  ,  slow  burn  ,  a  girl  squad  ,  ride  or  dies  ,  work  friends  or  maybe someone  who  admires  her work  ,  best  friends  ,  fake  relationship  ,  enemies  ,  ex  -  friends  ,  enemies  turned  friends  ,  friends  turned  enemies  ,  good  influence  ,  bad  influence  , old  party  friends  ,  one  night  stand(s)  , ,  neighbors  ,  secret  friends  ,  and  those  are  all  the  suggestions  i  can  come  up  with  at  the  moment  !  feel  free  to  message  me  with  plot  ideas  i  promise  i  will  scream  and  cry  over  .

[stanbillyhargrove]

Ghosts chp 20

Ally's Story

T/W: sexual assault, eating disorder

Ally's story is NOT nice, it's based off Cat's story from Demons but without the support system that Cat had

Katrina's POV

Ally was perched on the end of my bed, watching as I changed the bandages on my stomach. I taped sterile white gauze to my skin and eased myself back onto the bed with a groan.

"You've been hanging around a lot," I mumbled.

"Do you not want me here? I can leave."

"No! Wait, stay. Please, I like the company. I just mean, I hadn't seen you in a long time."

"When he's around we can't get close to you," she explained, "he keeps us away. But he's weak right now."

She sat back against the wall with a sigh, eyeing me after catching me staring at her, "what?"

"What's your story, Ally? What happened to you?"

She held her arms up so I could see the two long cuts that ran down her forearms, "isn't it obvious?"

"That's not your story, not all of it."

She dropped her arms into her lap, "you don't have to pretend to care. I'm already dead."

I stretched my hand across the bed, reaching for her, "I do care."

Her eyes were teary when she met my gaze, her jaw tight, but she still moved closer to take my hand.

--

"Mommy, Daddy's home," I announced.

She shook her head, "no, sweetie, he's not off work for a couple hours."

But then, a few minutes later, he walked through the door. Sent home early because of the blizzard sweeping through town. My mother brushed it off, saying I must have seen his car even though I was playing nowhere near the windows at the time.

That feeling, that sense of knowing, it never went away. As I got older, I realized it wasn't normal to know when someone was getting close. It wasn't normal to turn around and yell out your friends names when they were trying to sneak up on you. I started losing friends fast, nobody wanted to be associated with the outcast. The chubby cheeked weirdo that gave everyone the heebie jeebies.

I was twelve when the bullying shifted from my weirdness to my weight. The rest of my classmates had shed their baby fat and were lean where I still had a layer of pudge. That's when everything started to turn for the worst. Boys who knew I was crushing on them would sneer and laugh to their friends when I passed them. They'd pretend to like me outside of school just to turn around and shun me once in a group of classmates. Girls looked down on me, snickered when they saw me eating lunch.

Comments started coming from my family through the years too. Things like, 'haven't you eaten enough?' 'You know, everything you put on has to come off.' 'A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.' And, 'do you think you need seconds?'

My mom too, liked to tell me how little she weighed as a teenager. Joked about how her and her friends would compare thigh gaps like it was no big deal. She complained about how much she weighed now that she'd had me even though she still looked like she could be whisked away by a strong breeze. She thought she was helping by telling me maybe I'd have more friends, maybe boys would like me if I lost some weight.

At fifteen I found a website filled with pages and pages of wispy girls who's bones stuck through their skin. Girls who bragged that they had to wear children's clothes because nothing else fit, bragged about the amount of exercise they'd done that day. They shared tips and tricks to curb your hunger, told you if you followed all the rules you too could be beautiful, weightless, like them.

By sixteen, I was one of them. Comparing each days food and exercise with a group of people like me. I finally found my people, my sisters, the ethereal Wintergirls. I fed exclusively off people's compliments and they loved to tell me how much better I looked now. My mom praised my hard work, indulged my diet coke addiction. She was proud to have created a Wintergirl in her image.

Nobody in those groups liked to talk about the negatives. They didn't warn me that becoming one of them wouldn't be glamorous. That it meant constantly freezing, that your body starts growing more hair to keep you warm, that the hair on your head will get thin and lifeless, your nails turn blue and even a light brush will leave bruises on your skin. They didn't tell me that no matter what goals you hit, there would always be another. I wasn't prepared for my life to become consumed by numbers. How many sit ups, how many inches, tracking weight down in a notebook and sobbing if was more than last time. They didn't mention that I'd still hate myself no matter what.

I started swallowing handfuls of pills, secretly hoping that this time it would be enough to poison my liver. I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don't know that I want to die. I want to be normal, to eat and not hate myself, but that's not who I am anymore.

I kept waking up, forced to struggle through another day. Started drowning myself in alcohol every night and on the weekends, trying to find something to make me feel again. Some of the more popular girls started talking to me, asking for the secret on how to look as good as I do now, inviting me to parties hoping to get me to spill. I went to the parties but not to spill my secrets. I went for the free alcohol and eventually the drugs that the boys brought.

I had found my usual party group, the people who carried baggies of various things in their pockets. Accepted a baggie from a baby faced jock who smiled when he passed it to me.

"It'll be fun," he whispered in my ear, "trust me."

I looked at the pills for a moment before tossing them into my mouth and taking a swig of my drink to swallow them down.

"Good girl," he praised.

He didn't leave my side, didn't let me leave his sight. He was always there with an arm around me even though I didn't know him. Tempting me with tinted eyes.

This doesn't feel right.

I should have known better.

After a while, I started to feel weird. My limbs felt too heavy to move and I thought I was going to pass out. I leaned heavy into the boys side, not trusting my legs to keep me up anymore.

"It just hit you, didn't it?" He asked, holding me up.

My tongue felt too thick to move, to protest, when he picked me up. Threw me over his broad shoulder and took me back to his house.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he soothed.

I struggled to cry out, to push his hands away but he was so much bigger than me, had layers of muscle where I had only bone. His hands were too rough when he grabbed, when he held my wrists in one hand and undressed me with the other.

I tried again to move my legs, to fight him, but nothing worked.

"Relax," he murmured, "I'll make you feel good."

The room faded in and out through eyes blurry with tears. I could feel him. Everywhere. Every inch of me consumed by his warmth. The moments where I could almost grasp clarity were filled with pain.

He wiped a tear from my cheek, his touch tender now when he whispered, "I know you're into it...God, you feel so good."

I didn't wake up again until sometime in the morning. The sun had barely kissed the sky, just enough that the room I was in wasn't pitch black anymore. Just enough light to see that the sheets I was wrapped in were blue, not white. Just enough light to know I didn't know where I was. It took me a moment to realize there was someone else in the bed with me, a large arm wrapped loose around my waist. Tanned skin tight around broad shoulders that I might have felt safe in before. I screwed my eyes shut tight, hoping this was a horrible nightmare. But, when I opened them I was still here. The dark bruises in the shape of his fingers still stuck on my skin, the pain was still there.

I slid out of the bed, biting the inside of my cheek and praying that I could get out of here without him waking up. Apparently the universe thought I deserved this small favor because I was able to find my stuff, get dressed and slip out of his house without anyone seeing me.

Outside, I pulled my phone from my pocket to figure out where I was. I was an hour's walk away from home. By the time I got home...I'd have to get ready for school right away. I sent out a quick text to my group for someone to bring me something strong to get me through the day and started my long walk of shame.

I did the best I could to hide all the bruises under my clothes before going to school. Long sleeves pulled down into my fists, dark leggings, I even layered on a shirt with the tallest neckline I could find. Hid the red circles around my eyes under dark makeup and called it good enough.

I disappeared into the crowd at school, slinking from shadow to shadow like I was hiding from a spotlight. Thankfully, someone answered my text and slipped a baggy into my pocket during a quick hug. I wasted no time swallowing the pills, didn't even question it. I just needed everything to stop.

I only got through my first class without seeing him.

I was at my locker when suddenly I was picked up and spun around. I was too shocked to do anything more than shriek. Hit the ground and spun around to find myself face to face with that same boy. The star of the football team, he was all broad shoulders and a soft, innocent face. He came from money and everybody loved him because of it. But, of course, they didn't know what really lied behind that sweet face.

"Hey babe," he cooed, "missed you this morning. You could have stayed, I would have driven you home."

The breath rushed from my lungs and I was reliving flashes of memories from the night before. Once again trying and failing to fight back. Hearing his voice in my ear.

"Hey, Bryce!" Another jock clapped him on the shoulder, "introduce us to your girlfriend!"

"I..your...what?" I stammered.

"Guys, Ally...Ally, guys," he beamed, pulling me into his side.

The group of them said their hellos, and then quickly disappeared to their own lockers. I shoved him as hard as I could, but I barely moved him an inch. He still had a smile on his face even though his eyebrows had knit with confusion.

"Your girlfriend?" I hissed.

"Well, yeah? I assumed, after last night, y'know?"

"You assumed!"

He lifted his hands defensively, "take it easy, don't need to shout."

I spun and stalked away from him, to a quieter, more secluded corner of the school to try and calm my nerves.

He followed me, practically purring, "trying to find somewhere private for us?"

I stopped, dumbfounded, giving him time to come up behind me and plant a kiss to my neck.

I recoiled, shoving Bryce away and shouting, "get off me!"

"What the fuck is your problem? You gave it up so easy last night and now you're gunna act like a prude?"

"I...I didn't give anything! You took! You drugged me, carried me home when I couldn't walk and had sex with me when I couldn't say no! You raped me!"

"Babe," he started, "come on-"

"No! Don't fucking call me babe, I don't even know you! I'm not your girlfriend! I'm your victim!"

He got in my face, close enough I could feel the heat from his skin, and growled, "fuck you. We could have been something, y'know? I could have given you everything. You asked for the drugs, remember? You're just a fucking whore, using men to get what you want and then dropping them. You wait, I will fucking destroy you."

By the afternoon, everybody had seen the pictures he took of me unconscious and were calling me a whore. Calling me a skeleton, ugly, a tease, a user. Nobody could believe I didn't want it. 'Look at him,' they'd say, 'he's gorgeous. How could you not want him?' Or, 'I'd give anything to have him even look at me and you're complaining?'

--

It only took a couple days before someone approached me outside of my class. Asked if I'd sleep with him if he gave me something.

"Are you serious? You think I'm a prostitute or something? Try being a gentleman and asking a girl on a date, you'd have a better chance."

His eyebrows raised, "you wanna go on a date with me?"

"Not now I don't, shitdick," I scoffed, pushing my way into class.

Later that day, people were saying I'd slept with him anyway.

--

This went on for months. People would approach me asking for sex and when I turned them down, they made up a story and spread it around.

There was one boy...I thought he was different. He said all he wanted was to take me on a date, for me to give him a chance. So I did. I let him take me out for a coffee since I didn't eat in front of anyone. We actually had a good time, he made me laugh for the first time in a long time. For a minute, I felt like maybe I could see a way out of the dark.

Then, our way out of the cafe, I thought I saw a glimpse of Bryce but when I looked again, I didn't see him.

He drove us away from the city, to a secluded area where it was just the two of us. We sat in the back of his car, talking for a while until he brought me close and kissed me. Fingers started to tug at clothing, pulling a noise of protest from my throat.

"I took you out," he murmured, "now be a good girl for me."

I let my mind go blank, let him take what he wanted. Saw Bryce in his place and let a few tears fall silently.

I realized that no matter how good I thought things could be, no matter what I do, Bryce would still be on top of me and I still wouldn't be able to breathe. He'd always be there, sneering that he'd destroy me.

--

Eating was hard. Breathing was hard. Living was the hardest.

I felt like I had started dying the night Bryce took me home. Like everything since then had to have been a fever dream caused by cells deteriorating. Last night had nailed that feeling home. That I was already dead, just stuck in hell.

I showed up at school to see a snickering crowd in front of my locker. 'Whore' was painted across the door along with 'Liar' and 'Dirty Slut'.

Standing at the front of the crowd with a wicked grin on his face was Bryce and the rest of the football team.

He invaded my space, my senses, the heat radiating from his skin threatening to burn me up. The heady cologne he wore, a toxic gas that stole oxygen from my lungs and replaced it with poison.

His voice, low and husky in my ear when he sneered, "nobody believes you. Nobody cares about you. I bet nobody would even care if you were gone," he pulled away just enough to look into my eye, "I win."

I was holding back tears as I tried to retreat from the school, walking as fast as I could to escape the laughter when my arm was caught in someone's hand. I looked up at the girl who grabbed me and recognized her from some of my classes. We weren't really friends but we were close enough to know each other.

"You okay?"

I faked a smile, tried to ignore my voice cracking, "awesome...I'm awesome."

"Hey, screw those assholes, Ally."

I knew she was trying to help, that she thought her words would be enough to break through months of abuse hurled my way.

They weren't.

My shoulders slumped, "haven't you heard? I already did."

I slipped between her fingers and didn't look back.

--

"Whatever happened to chivalry?" Ally sighed, leaning against the wall next to me, "romance? I always wanted a relationship like in those cheesy old movies. You know, where the love interest makes some grand gesture to say they love you? That's what I dreamed of."

I wiped the tears from my face, "Ally.."

She smiled sadly at me, "I always thought I'd find the one when I became perfect. That if I could just be good enough...but that never happened, perfect never came."

@alias-b @charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama

[beccasbigworld]

Blog Post #1 Examining Youth Culture

I loved watching the show Euphoria the best out of all of the assigned movies and shows. It’s been something I’ve been wanting to watch for a while so I thought this was the perfect opportunity to binge the whole season. The movies and shows assigned to watch were, Euphoria, The Breakfast Club, Mean Girls, Mid-90’s and KIDS. I know... That’s so fetch, right? Throughout each film, there were tons of astounding characters, some being well known throughout society. Perhaps Regina George rings a bell to anyone? However, despite all of the fantastic characters in each work, I feel as if I identify with Rue from the show Euphoria the most. I feel the most connected to Rue because she is a young teenage girl who has to deal with mental health issues but also the fact that she has fluid sexuality. She likes men, women and just gravitates towards anyone she feels connected to. I'm part of the LGBTQ+ community so the amount of representation I felt in the show was slightly overwhelming. Especially since many older shows and films lack representation so when something arises with more LGBTQ+ representation it makes me happy. I also know how it feels to be in Rue’s shoes, especially with her relationship with Jules in the show. The whole season is a rollercoaster of Rue and Jule’s relationship and as the season progresses Rue finally takes the leap of faith and kisses Jules. **Sorry if I spoiled it for anyone** I’ve been in situations with past relationships where I liked a girl for so long but never could make the move and it was interesting to see Rue’s confidence build and I think her becoming sober helped with that aspect. An article titled The Unicorn Scale written by bi.org it discusses the different sexualities and identities of the characters in the show. It states that Rue, “Rue’s sexuality seems to be unexplored but fluid, she is clearly interested in men, women, and everyone else. Rue’s bisexuality is not shown as the cause or causing her drug addiction, it is simply another facet of who she is. Her nerves seem limited to the normal anxieties we feel for our first love” (The Unicorn Scale: Euphoria) Rue’s character also goes through many ups and downs throughout the season. She struggles with drug addiction and staying sober. She lost her Dad to cancer and had to have her younger sister find her overdosed in her room. Three common themes I’ve noticed in each of these films and shows are one, family dynamic/struggles, sex, and, coming of age moment.

The first theme, family dynamic/struggles is relatable to youth culture because growing up as a young adult or teenager can bring a lot of family issues. For example, in the movie MID90’S the main character Stevie is physically abused by his brother Ian. In one scene, Ian barges through Stevie's room in the middle of the night and punches him repeatedly. There is also no father in the picture and his mother is a single mom. So this could contribute to some of the reasons why Ian abuses Stevie. He could be taking out his anger in the only way he knows how and that’s with violence. I feel that people, especially young men struggle with dealing with their emotions and healthily expressing them. This theme also relates to me because I struggle with family issues and throughout the years it has taken a toll on my mental health. We also see in the movie KIDS the family dynamic and how it affects the main character, Telly. In one scene they show Telly’s mom taking care of the baby in their small city apartment. Telly asks for money and the mom says she doesn’t have any to give. Telly goes out and says he will be back later. The mom is so focused on the baby that she is not paying close attention to her son and what he is doing. This negatively affects Telly because he gets into the wrong group of people. This happens often without young people, it's a form of negligence that can lead people down the wrong path.

Another example is the dynamic between Nate Jacob's and his father in the show Euphoria. From a young age, Nate has been intimidated and scared by his father. In one scene, Nate’s father comes into his room and tells him how he played in the football game. Nate and his father get into a physical altercation and Nate starts to beat his head repeatedly against the floor. The second theme of sex is a big issue in most of these films and tv shows. When viewing and studying youth culture I’ve noticed how sex is a big part of a young person's life. Especially when I was in high school, sex was a majority of what people were talking about and it always mattered who was hooking up with who. I didn’t necessarily care for it and I had my experiences later in my life and at the end of the day, I don’t think it’s worth the hype and stigma around it. There are more things to do and talk about than sex. In the movie KIDS for example the main discussion of the film was sex and how the main character Telly wanted to have sex with virgins because they were seen as pure and innocent and he had the power to take that away from them. In the movie MID90s, the character Stevie has his first sexual experience and it was very real for many young people. In the scene, he starts to shake and get nervous, in an interview conducted and written by Slate Culture, asks Jonah Hill, the director of the Mid90s film, about the scene. Jonah states, “To me, showing it as harsh and as honest as it was back then was the point. You know? The point that this kid is terrified and shaking during his first sexual experience. And we get to see that as the audience. And he only gets happy and excited once he realizes it’s his currency to raise up through the group And that’s a fucked-up lesson that a lot of people now are having to unlearn from this time period And to me, I just wanted to show how that was and let the audience see that for what it is” (Bloomer) When you have your first sexual experience it can be a very nerve-wracking moment and in youth culture, the sexual experience is different for many and I believe it's split between boys and girls. As portrayed in these films for the young men, when they have sex it’s a powerful experience that boosts their confidence when they tell the group of guys they are associated with. For girls, it’s a moment that is more kept to themselves and cherished in a sense.

Being that I identify as a lesbian my experience doesn’t follow the heterosexual story so it’s interesting to me to see how the experience can be for heterosexual people. Lastly the last theme of a coming of age moment. I feel that when you are a young teen there is always this hope that you will have this coming of age moment like in the videos. I feel that Hollywood does a good job of exaggerating what a coming of age moment is for a teen. The film that is a clear example of a coming of age moment is the iconic Breakfast Club. According to the source, Movies, “The Breakfast Club (1985) is perhaps one of the best examples of a classic ‘coming of age’ plot. The film details the lives of five high schoolers stuck in a weekend detention together, only to have the misfit gang bond together despite their differences. This cast of characters are delineated by the conventional roles they fill: the Outcast, the Princess, the Jock, the Basket Case, and the Brain” (Holderbaum) The Breakfast Club shows how highschoolers defeated the stigmas and social scale of highschool. This connects to me a lot because high school was a very difficult time for me. Just like the movie we watched Mean Girls, I was at the bottom of the social ladder because I was different from a lot of people. Being a lesbian, out in highschool isn’t fun especially when you have guys who say “I can change that”. Despite the exaggeration by Hollywood with this big coming of age moment, I believe that my coming of age moment just like the Breakfast club was defeated the social ladder and being a confident, strong, lesbian at the end of my high school career.

The soundtrack of a film, TV series impacts the narrative of a story because it can uplift any emotion or feeling a character is feeling or trying to portray. The soundtrack can make or break a film/show. The soundtrack is a narrative of the story and can bring chills down your spine when watching a film. If a soundtrack is not done well the movie is not as impactive. In the movie the Breakfast club mostly everyone knows the famous song Don’t You and the iconic last scene. If it wasn’t for that song I believe the movie would not have been as famous. The playlist I made called Adolescent experience is a list of 10 songs that define me and myself growing up as a young teen trying to figure herself out. The first song on my playlist is, Electric Feel by MGMT, this song was one of the first songs that I listened to when I got my first iPod. The feeling it gave me felt like I was in an indie film when I would listen to it on long car rides. The second song on my playlist is What You Know by the Two Door Cinema Club. This song helped me with coping with my feeling of being lonely and feeling like I had no one to connect with, especially with being a young teen still stuck in the closet. The third song on my playlist is Little Secrets by Passion Pit. The band Passion Pit was one of the first bands I ever discovered and fell in love with. The fourth song I have in my playlist is 1901 by Phoenix. Anytime I listen to this song it gives me this feeling that I can accomplish anything. The fourth song is All For Us from the show Euphoria and sung by Zendaya and Labrinth. I love this song because it reminds me of the love I carry to many people in my life and how it can be tiring doing things for love all the time. The next song, Work by Rihanna is one of my favorite songs to dance to and it reminds me of a great memory of my middle school best friend Nina and me. The seventh song is Butterflies by Kacey Musgraves, this song is very meaningful to me because it's me and my girlfriend's song and it’s a reminder of the growth I have made within myself and my love life. The eighth song is Cruise by Florida Georgia Line, this was the first country band I started listening to when I was younger and the band reminds me of a very traumatic experience in my life. The ninth song is Man I Feel Like A Woman by Shania Twain. This song strikes a happy memory in my childhood because when all of my siblings were little and would be in my mom's suburban driving down the road we would sing this with her. The last song on my playlist is The Less I Know The Better by Tame Impala. This song just gives me an overall feeling of happiness and it was a song I listened to a lot when I was in a really good spot mentally.

[afoolnottoloveu]

heres some cm opinions i found in my drafts

i was tagged by gracie but i don’t feel like tagging anyone so u can reblog her post n add ur opinions and tell them i sent u ;)

-i agree the writers were pussys for not putting penelope and derek together but on the other hand their friendship was so valuable that i don’t mind it at all

-elle deserved better, but then again, she also deserves to be in Jail. 

-in reference to that post by @ m0rcia awhile ago about penelope acting out, well yes she also deserves to be in jail, and the fact that the fbi essentially blackmailed her to work for them is all kinds of messed up, but despite her anarchist views i have to believe that she really does love her job, 75% because of the people she met along the way, 25% because she gets to help people, 0% because she works for the fucking fbi

-the simple fact that almost every member of the team was held above the law at some point or another because of how close they were- well yeah they were a family, but they’re also part of the fucking government, how are you not going to report a drug addiction? or a literal murder? sorry but no matter how in love with cm i am, this truly just enforces my acab views

-emily prentiss i dont like u as a unit chief. as person great! as a friend and as an ssa, sure i love u. but- unit chief is where i draw the line. (on a completely offhand note imagine if jj became the unit cheif, the character development yummy)

-hotch’s trauma gets severely overlooked at times, (spoilers) man’s wife left him and so have countless agents that he loved and tried his best to care for, then he was blown up, then his wife was murdered, then he was stabbed a million times, and then he was framed for some shit idk i forgot tht episode it wasnt rly good, idk my point is that hotch deserved better (but contrary to what i just said they handled most of his trauma a lot better than pretty boy’s so...)

-i would be a hardcore jeidgirl if i didnt have tumblr and/or they started it earlier (jeidgirl thea!au)

-thanks for letting reid come back from his trauma! thank you for giving him a breaking point, especially when associated with his mom! why was this such a bad thing again? (okay yeah we dont excuse the drug addiction but- jkfgd)

-i alr said this before but why did everyone call spencer gideons apprentice? it was 110% morgan and it’s very evident, spencer is his own bean/being

-at first i didn’t like seaver but that’s because i was flooded with ideas that she was just jjs body replacement, but she really was her own character who grew. also she probably kissed spencer once and i’m not one to say if it went further than that

[oskea93]

Keep it to Yourself (1)

Warning: Use of strong language.

Hey guys! 

So, i’ve had the idea for this story in my head for some time now. I was debating on posting it since I have Think of You but I wanted to see how you guys like this story. It’s going to be different from Think of You, a bit more raw and unhinged. The first chapter is just a little tid-bit of what Bryant and Nikki’s relationship was like. How they met and their relationship before the decline will all be explained in future chapters. For some reason, this story seems easier to write than Think of You, so hopefully that’s a good thing! Please let me know if it’s a keeper and worth continuing. All your input means so much to me and keeps me writing :) Also, i’m sure there’s some mistakes and i’m sorry for those. I will try to go through and fix them at a later time. 

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know. ENJOY!!

“Bryant-“ Pause. “Bryant, this is Doc.” Another pause. “Listen, I really need to speak with you. I know that it’s been a while since we last spoke and all but he really needs you.” Pause again. “I know you said you never wanted to speak or see him again, but he’s out here killing himself and the guys and I can’t stop him anymore. He needs someone out here that he truly cares about, and I know you still care about him as well. Well, at least I would hope you still care. We’re gonna be staying at this hotel for another night, please give me a call back at 555-9123.” Last pause. “I really need your help, Bryant.”

I listened to the message three more times after the first initial listen. Doc’s voice was laced with concern and worry over the bassist. Last I heard from Doc was that Nikki and the guys were doing great and were going to become the next big thing. He was right when he said they would become rich and famous, but he was far gone when he said they were alright. Sure, they started out sniffing the occasional lines of coke, but they each fell deeper into the well, choosing more potent substances. For Nikki, he was the type of person to take things to the extreme. He was passionate about music, he was passionate about his job, and he was passionate about his drugs.

Nikki’s love of drugs and alcohol began way before I ever met him. He would get high here and there but once the band really took off, his drug addiction took off with it. I was okay with it at first, only because I thought he was only sniffing cocaine. Once I found the needles, especially the needle that was still lodged in his arm while he laid passed out in the closet, I knew that his problem had turned dangerous and potentially lethal. I tried to be there for him but the drugs were making it hard. He was withdrawn, mean, and just plan nasty. Once he started using heroin, he was hardly ever home, and out of his mind when he was home. He would sleep from sun up to sun down, waking up when most people would be going to bed for the night. I tried my best to be there for him but he made it so damn difficult. He wanted me to be there at the clubs, the bars, or wherever he was going for the night. I really did try but I just couldn’t deal with the rock star lifestyle.

I guess you could say the last straw was the night I not only found our house full of people I didn’t know, doing God knows what in the living room, but also the night I found Nikki in bed with a random girl. They were in the middle of having sex when I walked in, the girl looking up at me and smiled. I guess she knew who I was because that smile stayed on her face the whole damn time. Nikki was so blitzed out of his mind that he didn’t even realize I was standing at the door. I was so hurt that I just shut the door behind me and walked back down the stairs. Unfortunately for the people in the living room, I took all of my anger out on them. I destroyed everything in my view. I tore pictures off the wall, smashed the TV set that Nikki spent a fortune on, and kicked every single person out of our house. I flipped the wooden coffee table over, sending the contents flying in the air and moved onto the next room. I guess Nikki finally snapped out of his drug haze since he came flying down the stairs, his leather pants hanging low on his naked frame.

I cursed him up and down, telling him of what I had seen earlier. He had tried to deny it at first  but soon accepted that he was in deep shit. He cried and pleaded but that didn’t stop me from barging back into the bedroom and packing up my stuff.

I filed for divorce on March 28th, 1984.

Nikki of course didn’t show up to divorce hearing, deciding to let his lawyers handle everything. I didn’t want anything from him anyway. He earned his money and I wasn’t about to be that type of wife and try to take him to the cleaners. He had offered to give me the house but I refused. I didn’t want anything that belonged to him and I wanted to as far away from him as possible. I moved out of California and back to my home state of South Carolina. I ditched all of my friends, those of my own and those that I shared with Nikki. Every picture of Nikki and I was placed in a storage unit in California, along with my bridal gown and anything else that reminded me of him. At that time, the thought of him angered me and I guess the thought of me angered him. I had received a letter from him a couple months after I had moved. I don’t know how he got my new address but the letter held some of the most hateful words you could write to a person. He called me everything in the book in the letter, ending with the words, “FUCK YOU WHORE” in capital letters.

That was the last I had heard from Nikki. That was the last I had heard from anyone associated with Motley Crue, of course until today. The last time I had spoke with Doc was right before I left California. He tried to persuade me to stay with Nikki and “just work things out.” He took up for his bassist saying that he had a lapse of judgment. The only thing Doc didn’t realize was that Nikki already had several lapses of judgements during our four-year marriage. I had mentioned to Doc several times during my marriage about Nikki’s drug use. He would just blow me off and say that Nikki was living the “rockstar life.” He would tell me that drugs were a part of being a musician and that Nikki could control himself. I really should have recorded him when he said that…

“Doc called and left me a message today.”

My mom looked up from her notes, pulling her glasses down in the process. “And.” I looked at her and shrugged my shoulders. “He said that he needs my help with Nikki.” Her blue eyes drilled into my soul. My mother - Nikki Sixx hater from day one! She hated him and Nikki hated her. My mother was none-to-thrilled to find out that her only daughter was shacking up with a guy who was chasing his dream to become a musician. Nikki was bouncing from one odd job to the other before he formed Motley. A lot of times, I was the one supporting us, which upset my mother greatly. She would often tell Nikki that he needed to get his head out of his ass and get a real job. I guess you could say that’s one of the reasons why Nikki and my mother hated each other.

“You’re not gonna call him back are you?” My mom questioned. I stayed silent, stuffing another spoon full of cereal into my mouth. “Kathrine Bryant!” My mom yelled. “You can’t be serious right now.” I looked up at her and then drifted my eyes back to the food in front of me. “I thought you never wanted to speak to him again? What’s making you change your mind?” I shrugged my shoulder. “He sounded genially concerned.” My mom rolled her eyes. “Mom-“ I began. “It’s not like I’m going out there in person. I’m just gonna call and see what’s going on. It’s harmless, I promise.”

[thetomorrowshow]

The Poignancy Of Silence

Part 2!

A/N: This is my entry for @stop-it-anxiety‘s fall fic contest! I had a lot of fun writing this. It’s based off the prompt “Patton’s Song”. There will be a part two--hopefully I can get it out before the contest ends (part 2 will be Roceit y’all).

Words: 5309

Tw: car accident (nothing graphic no one really gets hurt), little bit of blood, light kissing, gambling addiction, lots and lots of tears

Pairing(s): Moceit (yeah, I don’t normally like it. Inspiration struck though, and I really like this story)

-

Kind people who had known Dee as a child would have called him imaginative. Less kind people might have labeled him troubled. Those who were even less so would've said he was a delusional liar.

It didn't really matter to Dee. In more cases than not, those who couldn't hear the music weren't worth his time.

Yes, Dee heard music. As a child, it had been loud, ever-present, as children were almost always happy. Not that 'happy' was quite the correct word for it. Each person had a different song, one that played when (as far as he could tell) that person was experiencing a strong, positive emotion. One he'd observed was love. Sympathy, occasionally. But most frequent was joy.

Dee didn't have a song. He didn't know why, but always suspected that he was just missing out on whatever joy everyone else possessed. He'd never been truly happy. It hurt, deep down. Hurt to know that he'd never get this little portion of personality. He hid it the best he could.

Trying to explain to teachers and guardians why he couldn't pay attention in class did nothing but land him therapist visits, diagnoses, and pills that there was no way he was going to take. By the age of nine, Dee had learned to lie about it. People were scared of the music, he realized. They didn't want anyone to hear it.

So, the next time his foster brother burst through the front door waving his report card, a huge smile on his face and accompanied by the cheery ukulele strumming that was his music, Dee just smiled as well and said nothing.

A new family stopped making him see the doctors and take the drugs, but somehow got the memo that he was a liar. It hurt to hear from the people he desperately wanted to be loved by, especially since most families didn't want him, mainly due to his birth disfigurement. He tried to laugh it off, though. His face made for wonderful Halloween opportunities.

As Dee grew older, he started listening to music of his own. Earbuds playing light mood music or The Beatles or quiet indie songs, a playlist perfectly crafted to allow him to focus. It covered up the discordant mash of instruments that was high school.

One weekend, he locked himself in his stuffy room on the upper floor of his foster family's house, intent on staying there until Monday, when he discovered that his earbuds were broken. He didn't dare go in search of a new pair and put himself in the middle of whatever his guardians were arguing about this time, so just cracked his window for some fresh air and hoped no one was near enough for their song to hit his ears. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. A tune drifted up, and, before he shut the window, he tilted his head, listening to someone's joy.

It was a jaunty piano tune, plunked out jovially, like whoever it was coming from hadn't a care in the world. It was . . . pretty, he decided. Very sweet and easy. So, for that one time, he left the window open.

-

Every day after school Dee dashed up to his bedroom and cracked his window, tearing out his earbuds recklessly. Every day, that music wafted up to his room and he smiled, the day finally made good.

One day, he popped his head over the sill and glimpsed a grinning teenager, sprawled out on the trampoline in the neighbor's backyard. He immediately ducked down, afraid of being seen. The boy was—there was no other word for it—adorable. Like a puppy, happy at existence.

Dee started to keep an eye out for him. Paused his music when walking past him on the way to school, or when walking past the neighbor's house. Blushed when he saw the boy's smile at the grocery store, working as a cashier.

He wasn't attracted to the dark-haired, liberally freckled, bespectacled boy. He just wanted to know. What about him made his music so carefree?

-

Dee taught himself to how to play piano when he was fifteen, sneaking into the jazz band closet during lunch and plunking out notes on the keyboard. He said to himself that knowing how to play piano was a good skill to have, and it would get him girls, and maybe he could take it to a career if he got good enough.

Saying that didn't change the fact that the first thing he learned was the boy's song.

-

Years haunted by that cheerful music (which, for some reason, he never got sick of) passed. Dee moved away, got an apartment of his own, yet he still heard it.

The university he attended was unsurprisingly lacking in music. It came in short bursts here and there, but maybe it was more plentiful in the dorms. That didn't change the fact that every morning, on the walk to whatever building of the school he needed, He heard the neighbor boy's music. It was brief, always drifting from the same busy intersection, like it was coming from one of the waiting vehicles while Dee crossed the road.

The tune being so close and so far at once drove Dee mad. He stopped listening for it—he needed to move on. His playlist had been specifically designed to block out music. He started wearing his earbuds everywhere again.

One morning he was running particularly late. He ran out of the apartment building and dashed down his route to campus. His backpack bounced and jostled, his breath came in gasps, his eyes were fixed on his pounding feet, but he didn't hear any of it. Just George Harrison singing sweetly in his ear. Which was probably why he didn't notice that the light was green as he burst out of the tree line and ran  into the busy intersection.

He didn't hear the honking, or the tires screeching, or the shouts.

-

His eyes blinked open, then instantly squeezed shut as they were met with a blinding light. He felt sick and dizzy and his head ached. A shadow passed over his eyelids, and he realized he was lying on something hard and almost sharp.

“I don't think he's waking up!”

Dee groaned and let his eyes flicker open again. A helmeted head turned away from him blocked the sun. Then the person turned back, a phone to his ear, freckled face creased with worry. Even years later, Dee recognized him. Even without the glasses, and with blood welling up from a deep-looking cut on his cheek.

The boy. Or, the man.

“It's you,” he said before he could stop himself. The boy man's face relaxed, and he spoke into the phone again.

“Never mind, he woke up! When will the ambulance be here?” A pause, then he nodded and covered the receiver. “Don't worry,” he whispered with a conspiratorial wink. “I have financial aid.”

And that was how Dee formally met Patton Esperanza. Sprawled out on a busy road, bleeding from a head injury, the man's motorcycle lying just in his peripheral.

And he was head-over-heels in love.

-

Their first date was in the hospital cafe, both with their wounds treated. Dee had noticed the pride pin on Patton Esperanza's collar. He shared that he was pansexual himself, and Patton Esperanza, with that adorable little smile of his that scrunched up his eyes and put a dimple in his right cheek, had said, “So I guess this is a date, then. Or a gay-te.”

And that music had played, that cheerful, down-to-earth tune that Dee could associate with a shining face and a small gap between teeth and a sea of freckles.

“I—I guess,” he'd stuttered.

And Patton Esperanza had laughed a small laugh, and Dee found himself blushing as Patton Esperanza suggested a second date soon.

-

Their second date was at a small, locally-owned buffet. Dee found himself laughing an easy laugh as Patton Esperanza mimicked a walrus, chopsticks stuffed in his cheeks. Even over the five separate tunes playing from other customers, he could hear Patton's song.

He found out that Patton Esperanza was in veterinary school, across the campus from the law division of the school, where Dee spent most of his time. He could imagine Patton greeting the dogs and cats with a huge goofy grin, and realized that he would be a perfect veterinarian.

He felt his face grow warm when Patton nudged his shoulder, sputtered a bit when Patton stole the vegetable sushi from his plate, grinned stupidly when Patton cooed and waved at the baby in the booth across the aisle.

As he'd noticed years previously, Patton Esperanza was the happiest person alive. With him, Dee thought that maybe—just maybe—he could be just as happy.

-

It was the fifth date when Patton Esperanza kissed him. A quick peck on the lips at the local Museum of Modern Art (Dee's choice, it was mentally quieter than the places Patton liked to visit), followed immediately by a scared look.

“Was that too much?” Patton asked quickly, those bright hazel eyes brimming with worry. Dee realized he hadn't moved, just stood frozen while he tried to process.

“N-no, it was fine!” He shook his head, trying to clear it, thinking only of how brief the moment had been and how weird kissing was, but in a nice, soft way. “It was good,” he amended, and slowly, cautiously, slipped his hand into Patton's. The man's face lit up, the worry washing away.

They wandered the halls all afternoon, hands laced together between them, giggling at nonsensical art and standing somberly before pieces that hit too close to home.

“My parents split up when I was eleven,” Patton admitted at some point. His music had quieted. “I've got two little brothers. My parents both knew that they wanted my brothers, and argued over them, but. . . .” he sighed. “Neither of them really wanted me. I ended up with my mom and one brother. It was clear that she only really loved my brother.” He saw Dee's sympathy and smiled sadly. “It's okay, though. Just because I love them doesn't mean they have to love me.”

-

“My parents didn't want me, either,” Dee said over a cup of coffee, at the cafe across the street from the museum. He laughed, the sound more bitter than his drink. “Failed abortion. You'd think maybe they'd have a change of heart, and keep me, but no. Took one look at my face and screamed, I guess.”

Patton reached over and lightly ran a hand down the bumps and ridges that defined the scaly deformity that disfigured the left side of his face. “I like it,” he said quietly. “Even if no one else does. It just means no one will be trying to take you away from me.”

This time, though Patton again initiated the kiss, Dee didn't freeze. He passionately responded.

-

They shared a home now. Dee's home, actually.

Which meant they shared a kitchen.

Which naturally meant they should bake cookies together.

Poof!

A cloud of flour erupted in Dee's face. He coughed and sputtered and heard Patton's voice from somewhere through the cloud. “Oops. Sorry!” The little giggle that followed denoted any sincerity.

“Oh, it is on,” Dee grinned. He spotted the canister of sugar on a counter and, quick as a flash, grabbed a handful and launched it in Patton's direction.

“Ow! No fair!” laughed Patton. Dee recoiled with a bark of laughter as a plastic measuring cup narrowly missed his nose.

The kitchen exploded into an all-out war of ingredients (or anything else at hand), the recipe book on the table forgotten.

When it was all over, and the dust had literally settled, Patton and Dee stood in the middle of the kitchen, crying tears of laughter and holding each other like it was the end of the world. They were both covered in fine white powder; every movement brought another puff of flour. The afternoon sun filtered through a window, catching the particles in the air and surrounding them with a galaxy of little star-like specks.

“I love you,” Patton whispered. Dee heard his cheery music, which had been a background noise, rise to almost deafening.

“I love you.”

-

“I hear music.”

“What?”

Dee wasn't quite sure why he was saying it. Everyone he'd told about it had called him a liar, delusional. Somehow, though, he felt like Patton was different. He steeled himself.

“I, uh. I hear music.”

“Right now?” Patton smiled, and yes, Dee did hear his music right then.

“Uh, yeah, actually.”

Patton paused the movie. They were curled up on the couch in their living room on a Sunday afternoon, cuddled in the warmth of blankets and each other, the first snow of the season falling outside.

“It's stupid, never mind.”

“Dee, you can tell me anything.”

One look at those eyes, honest, accepting, loving, gave him the courage he needed.

“Well . . . I hear music,” he repeated. So few words, yet so hard to say. “Like, for me, everyone has their own tune that plays when they're joyful—or, whatever.”

He tensed and looked away, waiting to be called a liar, or silly, or be laughed at. Instead, the music grew louder.

“That's awesome.”

Dee looked back; Patton's face was shining with excitement. He chuckled a bit. “Uh, yeah. It's actually pretty loud.”

Patton didn't seem to hear. He bounced off the couch and to the keyboard in the corner of the room. “You play, right? Can you play me somebody's?”

“Of course, mon amour,” Dee said, trying to mask his apprehension with a silky tone. Patton blushed, then pulled back the chair. Dee sat, letting his nerves roll off in waves. He stretched his fingers, took one last glance at his love, then closed his eyes.

He knew what he was going to play. He'd memorized it years ago. Anytime he sat before a piano,  it pulled at his hands and pushed at his head.

His hands found the correct keys. He waited a few seconds for the music in his ears to loop around to the beginning, then let it flow from his fingertips. He missed a note or two, but it was fine. The rest of it, the jaunty, plunking tune, sounded beautiful.

When he wrapped it up, he opened his eyes to see Patton's shining with wonder.

“Is that yours?”

Dee barely heard the whisper over how loud the song was. He cringed inwardly, not wanting to wake the hurt deep inside at not having a song of his own. He grinned up at Patton.

“No. It's yours.”

-

“Where are you?”

“I got held up. Dr. Green wanted to talk with me about getting an internship.”

“Where?”

“Thompson and Edelman.”

“That's far away.”

“Yeah. I don't think I'm going to take it.”

Silence. “So where are you right now?”

“Stuck in traffic. It's Friday, you know. Rush hour's pretty bad.”

“Yeah.” A sigh. “I don't know. This is the third date night in a row you've missed. Maybe we should stop trying.”

Now he felt guilty. In truth, the internship discussion hadn't been what made him late. He'd hung around the dorms, playing poker with some other law students.

“Maybe we can do something tomorrow?”

“I've got to be at the clinic.”

“Right. Movie on Sunday?”

“. . . Yeah.”

“Great. You want me to pick something up to eat on my way home?”

“No, no. I made dinner. I'll just reheat it for you.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you.”

-

Patton's spoon clattered as it fell back in his bowl. His jaw hung open. Dee could hear the first few notes of a very recognizable tune.

Dee laughed. “It's true. I've never built a snowman.”

A huge grin unfurled across Patton's face. “Let's go! Right now. I think it's wet enough.”

“Are six inches enough to build a snowman?”

“Any amount of snow is enough if you try hard!”

So they built a snowman. Dee's coat was warm, but he didn't have any gloves, and wore yellow rubber dish gloves instead. When he waggled his fingers, Patton just laughed. “Now I know what to get you for Christmas!”

The snowman didn't go so well. Grass stuck to it and the construction was lopsided and Dee was fairly certain that the head was the same size as the bottom part, but Patton smiled happily and ran inside the apartment building. He emerged with a carrot, likely borrowed from one of the grinning neighbors that watched through the windows. He stuck it proudly in the middle of its face; Dee wrapped his only scarf around it.

Patton declared it the best snowman ever.

-

He did get gloves for Christmas. They were a ghastly yellow (likely in memory of the dish gloves), but they were soft, and one look at Patton's sparkling eyes told him he was going to wear them every day.

-

“I'm truly touched that you didn't like my birthday gift.”

“I told you I didn't want anything! I would've loved to just spend the day with you.”

“Well, I'm sorry that I didn't understand your stupid hints. Maybe I shouldn't have spent a week trying to pick something!”

“If you'd listened to me, you wouldn't have had to! You would've known what I wanted!”

“Obviously I'm not wanted, I'll be back tonight. Return the gift, I don't give a—”

“—Don't go play poker, you know I hate it when you gamble!”

“Don't tell me what to do.”

“That's not the person I fell in love with!”

“What, you thought I was a submissive puppy?! I have goals and a life, you know! I can't spend every minute listening to you! I'm not here just to make you happy!”

“And I'm not here to have a boyfriend who ignores me and lies to avoid spending time with me!”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Maybe I don't know if it was a sincere apology!”

“Maybe you should get a new boyfriend!”

“. . . You—you don't mean that.”

Slam.

-

“Name?”

Dee cleared his throat. “Uh, I'm just here to deliver these flowers to Dr. Esperanza.”

The man at the desk's face lit up. “Aw, that's cute! I'll let him know.”

Dee turned to leave, but a door opening behind him gave him pause. Was Patton coming into the waiting room?

No. The man had glasses, but his hair was a lighter shade of brown and his eyes were grey, and he had a more professional look—a necktie over a white button-up, covered by a lab coat. A low, methodical tune followed him.

“The Foster dog needs flea treatment,” the man said to the secretary without preamble, then noticed Dee. “Ah. Are you a patient with us?”

Dee shook his head. Then gestured at the flowers, then pointed at the door the man had exited from. His throat felt too dry too speak for some reason. The man followed his gestures, then his gaze landed on the deformed side of Dee's visage. Dee felt his face burn as he saw the distaste take over the man's—Dr. Logan Cato, his badge read—face. Dr. Cato's music trundled to a stop.

The doctor took him by the arm out the front door, nails biting into Dee's skin. As soon as the door closed, he spoke.

“If Patton ever comes into work crying again,” Dr. Cato said, his voice a low threat, “you'll have me to answer to. You're going to have to do better than some cheap flowers.”

Dee nodded and tried to pull away, but the man wasn't done. “Anyone would be lucky to have him,” the veterinarian said. “You need to recognize just how much you mean to him.”

That annoyed Dee. As Dr. Cato released him and walked back inside, Dee went over his words again. How much he meant to Patton? What about how much Patton meant to him? He'd skipped class and driven across town to the vet that Patton interned at just to apologize! Sure, maybe he was too much of a coward to say sorry in person, but he'd googled about which flowers meant what and composed a poem.

Patton was his life. He wouldn't let a stupid mistake push him away.

-

“Did you skip class to get me the flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Dee, you can't—”

“Sweetheart, I wanted to.”

“But your future!”

“I don't want a future without you.”

-

“Where were you?”

Dee froze halfway in the door. “Tutoring,” he lied. Patton hated when he gambled. Speaking of Patton, the man stood before him now, his face stony, arms crossed.

“We were supposed to spend the evening together.”

In all honesty, a part of Dee had remembered. They'd been planning a trip to a busy restaurant. He knew Patton wanted to, but he shuddered at the thought of such a crowded place, so many people with so much music.

“I'm sorry, he apologized automatically. “Three students needed help, and I was the only person there to tutor—”

“I got the evening off work just to spend with you.”

Dee felt a spark of anger in his chest. “What about me?” he asked belligerently. “What if I'd come home and wanted to be alone?”

“Well, I—”

“I can't drop everything I'm doing just because you want me to!” Dee ranted, really getting heated now. “I care about you, but I have a life too! I have things that I want to do, too!”

Patton's brow furrowed. “Were you . . . were you out gambling again?”

Dee felt his face heat up. “So what if I was? What's wrong with that?”

“Dee, there's so much wrong with it, but. . . .” Patton looked away. When he turned back, his earnest face was crumpling, his eyes full. “Today? Of all days?” he choked out.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no. His anger vanished quick as it had come, replaced by a cold fear. Today? What was today?

The 24th. The 24th of April. The same date that, a year ago, Patton had agreed to be his boyfriend.

Their anniversary.

“Oh no,” he breathed. His mind flew: did he get a gift? Was his gift going to be spending time together? And if so, did he just ruin their anniversary—and relationship—by being a selfish idiot?

Before he could say anything, a body pushed past him; the door swung closed.

“No—Pat, wait—!”

He threw himself out the door, but Patton was already gone. The thudding of running feet echoed from the stairwell.

“Pat, please!” Dee called out, heedless of those trying to sleep in surrounding apartments. He flew down the stairs, coming to a stop on the ground level just as the building door slammed shut.

A woman and her toddler watched on sympathetically as Dee dropped to his knees and sobbed. He hadn't thought that the night before would be the last night   he'd get to hold his true love.

He hadn't thought that he'd be the one to drive his true love away.

-

“One more chance.”

“One more chance.”

Dee pulled Patton into a kiss, relaxing when his boyfriend (somewhat reluctantly) returned the affection.

“How about I take off work tomorrow? You don't work till 3, so we can pull an all-nighter tonight.”

Patton nodded, a small smile gracing his tear-stained face. “It's been a while since we did one of those.”

“I still haven't seen that Christopher Robin movie.”

Later, they were curled up on the floor, surrounded by blankets and pillows and popcorn, a plate  of pizza rolls between them, the movie playing on the screen before them. Dee tapped Patton on the shoulder; the man looked up sleepily.

“I made this for you,” he whispered, and dropped something into his hand.

Patton's eyes widened at the bracelet. Beads spelling his name were laced into a complicated braid (Dee had learned to braid years previous, having been forced by a foster sister, then realized he found it calming and kept it up). Different shades of blue and grey crisscrossed beautifully and intricately.

“I'll wear it forever,” breathed Patton. “How did you make it?”

Dee shrugged awkwardly, a hand on the back of his neck. “It wasn't too hard. Just a braid.”

“I love it.”

Dee smiled, relieved. “I love you, you know?”

Finally, he heard that soft, plunking music.

“Yeah. I love you.”

-

It was late—or, early, maybe? That was okay, though. He'd let Patton know in advance that he'd be late. He'd made something up about a study group and dinner afterward. Patton had seemed okay with it.

However, it was now clear that his boyfriend had made plans of his own. He could hear Pat through the walls—chatting with the couple two doors down. He couldn't hear his song, though.

Instead of going straight to bed, he flopped out on the couch and turned something on—probably music. Music made for a good white noise for him, something to have to relax against.

It was perhaps a sign of his growing drowsiness that he didn't hear when the door opened.

“Oh.”

The word was cold and removed, and Dee sat up and stretched, blinking blearily at the figure in the doorway.

“Pat?” He took in his boyfriend's red nose and eyes, his stiff posture, the tight line that was his mouth. “What's wrong?”

“She tagged you.”

“What?”

Patton pointed at an open laptop on the counter, which Dee hadn't previously noticed. He stumbled up and over to it, his fingers dancing across the mousepad as the screen woke up.

It was open to a video on a social media site, and before it even started, Dee felt his heart sink.

He saw himself, hissing on a pair of dice and tossing them out onto an unseen table. Saw himself raise his arms in a gesture of triumph, mouthing “Snake eyes!” amidst silent cheering from the group crowding around him. Saw a girl (he didn't even know her name, some freshman who was already failing) pull him by his collar until their mouths collided. Saw his own eyebrows raise. Saw a student whistle, another letting out a noiseless catcall.

The clip moved on to a different moment before he could watch himself push the girl away with a nervous laugh. Check the time. Make up some excuse about leaving. Bite his lip anxiously, hoping that Patton would never find out.

He looked up wordlessly, trying to find something more meaningful than I'm sorry (words that should mean so much, but went hollow after too many lies). A tear slipped from Patton's eye, dying a spot on his light blue t-shirt black.

“I thought you'd died,” he spat. “There was an accident on 150. The car looked like yours. I kept calling, and you didn't pick up.”

“Pat—”

“I don't want to hear it!” Patton shouted, anger spilling over. “You promised you would stop gambling, you promised to not lie, and on April 24th, over a year ago, you promised to love me!”

“Pat!” But he couldn't be stopped.

“Everything is lies! Every day, I'm asking myself if you're really planning on coming home that night!” Tears ran fiercely down both of their faces. Dee stood, reached for Patton's shoulder, who jumped back as if burned.

“Don't touch me!” he hissed. “You're full of lies, and—and—” his voice raised— “Now I know why your parents named you Deceit!”

Dee physically recoiled. They never talked about his birth name. Ever. Patton had promised to never bring it up—not in an argument, not in a loving way, never. It hurt too much. He looked , expecting an apology. None came. Patton glared at him. Dee broke eye contact immediately, feeling the freezing pain of hearing his name mixed the crippling pain of his lover's hateful gaze. As soon as he turned away, a choked sob met his ears, and a body pushed past him.

Not for the first time, Patton ran away from the apartment. Not for the first time, Dee stood in shock, and briefly wondered what the neighbors must think.

Not for the first time, Dee fell to his knees, certain that this was the last time, that his true love was never coming back.

-

Dee was there when Patton returned—or, rather, there again. Dee had wandered the streets in the windy night until the edges of the sky started to turn purple, then orange. Then he'd wearily trod back to the complex to see if Patton had returned of his own accord. The man hadn't, but hardly ten minutes passed before the door was quietly pushed open and Patton stumbled in, stepped around Dee—who was silently crying in a heap on the floor—and went into the bedroom. The lock clicked behind him.

Now, Dee dashed away his tears. The sun was almost fully visible. On a weekday, they would be up at this time, preparing breakfast and showering and packing their bags for class.

Dee wasn't all that great at cooking, but scrambled eggs were decently simple, so he cracked some eggs in a pan and turned on the stove.

At some point, a glimmer of hope had sprung up in his stomach. Maybe . . . if he changed . . . if he reminded Pat of all the good times. . . .

He shook himself. He isn't happy with you, he told himself. It's hurting him to be with you.

Still, though. Maybe . . . maybe if he devoted his life to him . . . maybe . . . maybe Patton could love him again. . . .

“Dee?”

Dee dropped the spatula with a jump; he looked up to see Patton in the doorway. The man was in the same clothes as the night before, hair rumpled and eyes heavy with sleep.

He looked away as quickly as possible, stirring the eggs with vigor he didn't possess.

“Dee?”

“I'm making eggs,” Dee rambled. “You know I'm not that good at cooking, but I wanted something to do, and you were going to need to eat, and I couldn't sleep, so—”

“Dee.”

He met Patton's eyes. They were quiet, dull without the normal sparks of love and life. “Yes?”

“We tried, you know?”

And there it was. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes as Dee dropped the spatula again, letting his arms fall uselessly to his sides.

“We tried,” Patton continued, voice somehow emotionless yet overflowing with all the feelings neither of them could confess. “And we had some really good times. But people change—like clothes shrinking in the wash. One day, it's your favorite shirt, and it fits perfectly and you feel happy. The next, it's too small. Doesn't fit. It'll never fit again. And you're sad—you've just lost something that made you feel really good.”

“Pat, please—”

“I-I care about you, Dee. But this is hurting both of us. We—we just don't fit anymore.”

And now Patton was crying, now they both were, shaking and sobbing and feeling their life crash down around them. I'm sorry, Dee wanted to say. I'll change. Please. Please don't leave me. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Patton as the man flung himself at his chest. The eggs forgotten, they stood in the middle of the kitchen, crying tears of sadness and frustration and everything else and holding each other like it was the end of the world. The morning sun filtered in through the window, shining a spotlight on the two broken men.

“I love you,” Dee whispered. Patton said nothing, just hugged him closer. And Dee heard the sharpness, the poignancy, the depths of emptiness wrapped in one melody.

Silence.

[goodlookingforagirl]

Oc-tober Day 14: Cornered

Today’s prompt is takes places in my main storyline, but it’s a conversation that’s only ever referred to. I decided to actually write it out for today! This takes place in 1980, right after Randy is released from prison. I did as much research as possible on the legal process so I hope everything I mention is accurate. No specific trigger warnings, just that there are some heavy things mentioned. Thanks to @oc-growth-and-development for making this list! 

Day 14: Cornered

Mom dropped me off at the church’s back door and waited until I went inside to drive away. The door led to a short flight of stairs down to the basement, where the only light came from a few hallway fluorescents, spaced far apart. It reminded me of an empty elementary school, except that instead of crayon drawings on the walls, there were solemn religious portraits. One of the fluorescents started buzzing, and I quickly walked down the hallway, searching for the door that read “Associate Pastor”.

    I finally found it — the last door on the left — and knocked. There was faint shuffling from inside, and I wished I could run back to the car and make Mom take me home. After all I’d been through, it was stupid to be afraid of one old pastor, but I was. He would probably tell me what a bad person I was, and how I needed to “get right with God” without offering any real help, like all the chaplain’s used to do.

    The door opened to reveal a well-dressed man, barely middle-aged and smiling broadly. “Good afternoon,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Reverend Burke.”

    “Randy Nicholson.” I shook his hand and tried to smile back, but it came out as a grimace.

    “Please, come in.” He stepped back and gestured to a red leather chair in front of his desk. “Can I offer you anything to drink? I’m afraid all we have is water and tea — we cleaned out the coffee on Wednesday night.”

    “No, thank you,” I automatically answered, then immediately wished I hadn’t. I really could use some water. My mouth already felt like sandpaper, and we haven’t even started our meeting.

    He sat down in his desk chair, so I sat in the leather chair. He folded his hands, so I folded my hands. Finally, he spoke.

    “Your mother called me last month. She said you were in need of reintegration counseling.”

    “Yes, I am.”

    “I’ve worked with many ex-convicts before. Usually, the first meeting is for us to get to know each other. In subsequent meetings, we’ll focus on goal setting and progress.”

    “Okay,” I answered, having nothing else to say.

    He looked at me expectantly. “So, what should I know?”

    “I — I don’t know. What do you need to know?”

    He chuckled. “Well, I need to know your story. Your crimes, your arrest, your incarceration, and anything other pertinent information.”

    Pertinent information. What did that mean to him? Did he want my whole life’s story? He must have noticed my confusion, so he said, “How about we start with the arrest?”

    I leaned back and tried to detach myself from my words as much as possible. “I was walking downtown late one night — or, really early one morning — making a delivery for my dealer.”

    “What kind of dealer?”

    I cocked my head. Could he really be so stupid? “A drug dealer.”

    “I guessed that, but what kind of drugs?”

    “Oh. Well, he dealt a few different ones, but that night it was heroin.”

    “Were you using heroin at the time?”

    “Yes.”

    He nodded, and I continued.

    “So, I was carrying the heroin and a stolen gun. I didn’t steal it myself, but still, it was stolen. And then I ran into some guy, probably a bum, and got in a fight. Then the police rolled up.”

    “Why did you start fighting him?”

    “I don’t remember. I was high at the time, and he probably was, too. The police coming was just a coincidence. We weren’t going at it long enough for someone to have called.”

    “So you were arrested for fighting?”

    “Yeah, and it didn’t take long for them to go through my pockets, check the gun’s registration, all that. They charged me with unlawful possession of a firearm, unlawful possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell, and aggravated assault.” I winced at those words. “I mean, the other guy got charged with assault, too. We both hit each other pretty hard. But that doesn’t matter — it’s still on my record.”

    Reverend Burke nodded and wrote something down on a legal pad. “How did you plead?”

    “Guilty.”

    “On all charges?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Did they offer you a deal?”

    “They said they’d drop the firearm charge if I told them where I got it from, but I didn’t. I pleaded guilty because I didn’t want to lie. And I mean, they caught me in the act.”

    “And this was all how long ago?”

    “Five and a half years ago.” I still couldn’t believe it. All that time spent in a cell because the cops happened to drive by right at that moment. No, because I decided to break the law and I was rightfully caught. Okay, fine, maybe because of both reasons. And for what? So I could get a little extra smack for being a runner?

    “How did you cope in prison?” Reverend Burke asked so casually, like it was an everyday question.

    “I read a lot of the library books. Some religious ones, too. Those helped me a lot.”

    “Did you make friends?”

    “I was considerate, but I kept to myself. That’s the only way to stay safe, really, unless you get involved with all the prison politics, which I didn’t.”

    “A lot of the men I counsel tell me that,” he commented. “Did you keep in contact with family and friends on the outside? Did they visit you?”

    I subconsciously gripped the armrests of the chair, my knuckles turning white. We were getting close to the subject that I really didn’t want to talk about. My least favorite subject in the world.

    “My family in Texas wrote to me sometimes. That’s my mom, my grandparents, and aunts and uncles.”

    “Your father?”

    “I’ve never met him.”

     Reverend Burke looked sympathetic but not surprised. “Did he pass?”

    “Almost ten years ago, but I didn’t know him before he passed, either. He and my mom — it’s complicated. The last time they saw each other was when she was pregnant with me.”

    “I see,” he nodded. “Did your family ever visit you?”

    “Sometimes,” I said, my throat getting tight. “My brother did.”

    Reverend Burke raised his eyebrows. “You have a brother?”

    “Had a brother,” I corrected him. “He died three years ago.”

    His face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You were still incarcerated then?”

    “Yeah.” I stared at the floor and tried to ignore the pain that was rushing in. “He visited when he was still alive. Everyone else wrote, and I called them sometimes, too.”

    “I see,” he muttered, writing something else down. “So, you made it through prison without any major issues, it seems like. Relatively speaking, of course.”

    “I didn’t join a gang, if that’s what you mean.”

    He chuckled. “I guess that is what I mean. When were you released?”

    “My mom picked me up on Wednesday. You’re the first person I’ve talked to since, besides her.”

    “She’s the only one who came up?”

    “Well...yeah.” What did he expect, my extended family holding up banners, welcoming me home with open arms?

    “Are there any people in the area you could reconnect with? Old friends, co-workers, classmates?”

    I half-shrugged. “Maybe. I can’t think of anyone right now.”

    Reverend Burke tapped his pen on his legal pad a couple of times, then stood up. “I have some reading that might help you.” He grabbed three books off of his shelf. “I need to run by the copy room and Xerox some pages for you. Forgive me, but I learned long ago not to loan my books out. They have a habit of never coming back.”

   “No offense taken,” I replied with an awkward laugh. He excused himself and left me alone in the office, tense and nervous and itching for a cigarette, the only habit I hadn’t kicked yet. I resisted, smart enough to know that I shouldn’t smoke in a church. But I craved any kind of relief — anything to stop me from feeling like a frightened animal, cornered by my own past.

    People to reconnect with. There weren’t any. I didn’t have friends in high school — not real friends that would remember me. Most of my “friends” were other addicts, and I didn’t want to see them again. My family was in Texas, and I didn’t want to move there. And Roland — Roland was gone. The one person I actually wanted to reconnect with, and I couldn’t.

    Reverend Burke came back in and handed me a small stack of warm paper. “Fresh out of the copier,” he grinned.

    I flipped through the pages and read the headers: Finding God in Grief; Convict Turned Convert; The Road to Recovery. I didn’t even have to read them to know that I hated them. Life’s darkest chapters reduced to cute, alliterative phrases. Reverend Burke didn’t know what it was like. He had no clue what it felt like to be cornered by your past, every day of your life, only for someone to write a pat little paragraph about how easy it is to overcome. And I wasn’t mad at him for it — I was jealous. I wished it were that easy for me.