#distaste so strong you tell your terrible MOM about your personal life

[automatic-midnight]

Kaji becomes Ritsukos 1 of 2 friends eventually but I think she kinda wanted to beat him with a shovel when she first met him

[thatshithurted8]

Trauma

Summary: After a sudden revelation you and JJ look at each other in a different light.

Request: Hi! Can you do a request where jj and y/n ‘hate’ eachother, constantly fight and bicker. So John B and the gang truck them into getting stuck on Hayward’s boat and leave them for the night. When jj gets high he notices she gets anxious. He persuades her to reveal a sensitive side that she doesn’t like being around drugs because of her abusive dad. Jj doesn’t tell her he can relate just that he understands. He tells her that she’s beautiful and she deserves better, in his own jj way;)💗I love u @maybebanks 

Trigger Warnings: Mention and depiction of overdoses, drug use, death and abuse!!

Word Count: 2.3k

When John B and the rest of the gang drove away from Heywards boat leaving you and the boy you despised the most, JJ Maybank alone you weren’t that mad. They weren’t going to leave you guys there over night. Surely they were going to come back and get you guys from the middle of the marsh so you two wouldn’t kill each other. Or so you thought.

A few hours went by, your friends have yet to return and the sun just finished setting. This is when the situation at hand finally hit you. You were stuck out in the middle of the marsh with JJ and no one else. Yea you could’ve continued what you were doing all evening which was ignore the blue eyed boy and do your own thing. 

However, as the stars and moon shone down on you both and the smell of weed filled your nostrils you couldn’t help, but feel anxious. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your breathing started to become labored. You despised the smell of weed and feeling abandoned was the cherry on top. Knowing the signs of a panic attack you decide to sit down against the edge on the other side of the boat than JJ. As you do this the blond looks over at you and watches you wrap a blanket around your body before resting your head on your knees. 

Despite your distaste for the Maybank boy his feelings towards you weren’t reciprocated. Yes he wasn’t fond of you especially after the first time he met you, he made a joke about you not smoking or drinking when Kie invited you to hang out, but he didn’t know why you weren’t interested in that stuff. He simply thought and still believes that you can’t take a joke. JJ hated people that couldn’t take a joke considering most of those people were Kooks. And after all you used to be a Kook when your mom was alive. As if your old social status actually mattered to anyone else though. 

Finally speaking up after basically a whole evening of silence JJ opens his mouth. “You know they obviously left us here to become friends so you should make an attempt at least.” 

You roll your eyes looking down at the floor between your open legs, your head still resting on your knees. He was right you should make an attempt to befriend him, but right now wasn’t a good time to try or for JJ to make a snarky remark about it. 

Ignoring him, you try your best to focus on your breathing to prevent a panic attack. You hated having panic attacks in the first place, but there was no way you were going to let JJ see that side of you. You had to stay strong like you always were. 

Rolling his blue eyes JJ stands up and sits back down beside you. Since you were so focused on your breathing you didn’t realize he was now by your side. 

“Ignoring me isn’t helping Y/N.” He says, annoyance dripping from his voice.

JJ’s remark and the smell of weed being closer to you now was your last straw. You couldn’t hold in the panic attack anymore. Suddenly a gasp for air leaves your mouth as tears begin to fall down your face. 

Confused, JJ looks over at you and notices your body shaking. Even though you weren’t his most favourite person in the world you were still apart of his friend group and the blonde would do anything for them. 

“What’s wrong Y/N?” He asks genuinely concerned, placing the roach of his joint down beside him. 

He places a hand on your back as you begin to sob into your hands and knees, but you move away, not wanting him to touch you. He retracts his hand, but grows even more confused and concerned. During the span of knowing you JJ has never seen you cry so he was genuinely confused as to why you were. What triggered it? 

As the sound of your sobs filled JJ’s ears he felt inclined to make you feel better despite your distaste for each other. 

“Talk to me Y/N.” He simply says. 

You finally look over at the boy beside you, your eyes red and cheeks stained with tears. Seeing you like this flipped a switch in JJ that he wasn’t even aware of. All of a sudden he wanted to take care of you or just simply hold you. You looked so broken and JJ understood the feeling. 

Without saying anything JJ scoots over to you and wraps his arms around you. Surprisingly you don’t pull away from his grasp. Instead you simply move closer into to his chest, desperately craving any type of loving touch. The blonde boy rubs his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion which you appreciate. 

A few minutes go by, both you and JJ allow you to ride out your panic attack, but he made sure to show that he was there for you by holding onto you. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly, looking down at you in his arms. 

“Not right now.” You stutter out, still reeling from the physical and mental attack you just went through. 

“Well do you want to light up? It should make you feel better.” The blonde suggests even though he knows you don’t like participating in that type of stuff. 

You simply shake your head no and close your eyes while resting against his chest. “Suit yourself, but I’m going to.” He says digging through his cargo shorts pocket with his free hand for another joint. 

JJ notices you sharply inhale as he does this which makes him hesitate for a second, before deciding to leave it in his pocket. “Why don’t you smoke or drink?” 

The Maybank boy would always make fun of you for not participating in the same activities as the rest of the Pogues, but he just realized he doesn’t know why you don’t do that stuff. 

A minute or two go by and JJ was about to ask you again, thinking you didn’t hear him, but in reality you were just trying to figure out what to say. You sigh, but not realizing you start to play with JJ’s fingers to calm yourself down. 

“Do you know how my mom died?” You simply ask. 

“No.” He says allowing you to continue to play with his fingers. 

You were quite surprised by his answer in all honesty. Basically everyone on the island knows what happened to your family and their downward spiral to misfortune.  

“She died from an opioid overdose.” 

JJ’s dilated eyes widen at your answer, not expecting that to be the cause of your moms death. “Shit sorry Y/N I didn’t know.” 

You simply shrug your shoulders. “It’s not a requirement for you to know that.” You say in a monotone voice as you start to think about your deceased mother. 

A silence falls over the two, but for the first time ever it wasn’t awkward. JJ realized he knew hardly anything about you and he was genuinely curious to find out more, but he didn’t want to push you. So he simply started to graze his fingers up and down your wrist, moving your bracelets up an down as he does so. 

Although it was dark out and the only light was coming from the moon and a small light outside of the cabin JJ noticed something on your skin. Along your wrist and up your forearm were round scars that looked like they resembled cigarette burns. 

He looks down at the round marks on your arm then gazes at his legs that had similar marks along them. Someone was using you as their personal ash tray like how JJ’s father used to do. 

“What are these from?” He asks, tracing his finger around one scar. 

Once you realize what JJ is talking about you start to readjust yourself in his arms, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing.” 

JJ bites his lip, deciding whether he should continue talking or not and he eventually decides to continue. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I have them too.” He says moving away from you to show you the scattered scars along his legs before turning slightly and lifting up his shirt to show the healed marks on his back. At a loss for words you simply ogle at the boy beside you in shock. Even though he didn’t straight up say what happens when he goes home he showed you that he understands which oddly made you feel not so alone. Who knew you guys had something so terrible in common? 

He lets his shirt fall back down and wraps his arm around your shoulders once again. You suck in a breath of fresh air as thoughts swarmed your mind. You didn’t know why, but in that moment JJ made you feel so comfortable around him that you felt inclined to tell him the deep dark truth about why you don’t do certain things. 

“When people ask why I don’t drink or smoke I say it’s because of my mom.” You say grabbing a hold of JJ’s fingers once again. “Her death is a big reason as to why, but once she died my whole life went downhill. My dad didn’t cope with her death well and I can’t get mad at him for that, but he started to abuse drugs like she did.” JJ glances over at you resting on his shoulder as he listened intently to you speaking. 

“My dad started to spend money on anything and everything. Then one day he went to a meeting for an important business deal, high out of his mind on coke and of course he got fired. After that we lost the house, the boat, and his car. We lost everything. And you would think that would’ve been a wake up call for him.” You say removing your head from the blondes shoulder and meeting JJ’s gaze.

JJ simply nods his head in understanding, but you take that as a hint to go on. “He only got more angry and agitated since then. He started to take his anger out on me and my brother, but mostly me because I look more like my mom.” You say glancing at the moon then back to JJ’s blue orbs. 

He couldn’t believe how similar your guys’ home life was. For starters JJ’s dad started abusing alcohol and drugs once his mom passed away as well. She died of cancer and JJ’s dad felt like it was his fault since he couldn’t afford chemotherapy. JJ’s fathers built up guilt and anger against the world for taking his wife away from him ultimately festered into him beating JJ every chance he got. It also didn’t help that JJ was a constant reminder of her just by his looks. 

You suck in another deep breath just before you tell JJ, the guy you despised just hours ago the most personal and sensitive thing about yourself. “It was yelling matches at first then one day he just started physically attacking me. First he slapped me a few times or pulled my hair or even pushed me down the stairs. Occasionally he would put out his cigarettes on me. Then he eventually pinned me up against a wall and held a broken beer bottle against my throat.” You say, the look on your face expressionless and your eyes dull because you were used to it. When you shouldn’t be. No one should. 

As you reveal this to JJ he feels his heart clench and wince at your sentences. He understands the pain that you have and are going through more than you know. But as you tell him this he starts to connect the dots. Suddenly waking up at John B’s in the morning to see you sleeping out in the hammock or on the living room floor made sense. Or seeing you wear heavy amounts of make up on parts of your face when you hardly ever wore make up, or how you spent more time at Kiara’s and John B’s than he himself did. 

You open your mouth to tell him some other things such as how you haven’t been home since that day he pinned you against the wall or how your brother is fine and misses you, but he stops you. Although he wanted you to be comfortable enough with him to tell him those things it was starting to get too much for him. JJ’s own dark memories and demons were starting to cloud his mind and he didn’t want that. He wanted to be there for you the way John B and Pope are there for him. 

“Y/N, I’m really sorry you have gone through that. No one deserves to go through that.” He says turning towards you while moving a stray hair out of your face. You shrug your shoulders and give him a sad smile. After all of these years your father has made you believe that you deserve everything he does to you. 

Another moment of silence falls upon you two, but JJ breaks it to speak his mind, he could tell you didn’t believe what he previously said. “You know you’re beautiful right? And although we started on the wrong foot I’m willing to be arrested again if your dad lays even a finger on you.” The blue eyed boy says, revealing his protective side which was very on brand JJ. You chuckle and nudge the boy away from you lightly. Even though you were originally anxious and upset that your friends left you two out in the middle of the marsh you are actually quite grateful they did.

“You can have the pull out couch at John B’s for now on.” JJ says scooting back over to you. 

You appreciate JJ’s offer, but you can’t help, but turn it down. “No because you wouldn’t have a place to sleep then.” 

“Then we’ll have to figure something out together.” JJ suggests wrapping his arm back around you. 

And what JJ said was true. From that moment on you two made an effort to be there for each other while navigating each others trauma. 

- 

I have linked some websites and resources for people going through similar situations as JJ and reader in this fic. Please do not hesitate to reach out to me if need be I will try to help you to the best of my ability! 

P.S: You all are strong, beautiful and loved. Don’t forget that.

https://togetherweare-strong.tumblr.com/helpline 

http://www.vachss.com/help_text/hotlines_intl.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_domestic_violence_hotlines

https://pathwaystosafety.org/

[turquoise-stones]

Watch Me.

Bakugou x MidoriyaSister!reader

Artist link

Request: Could you by any chance do one where the reader is midoriya's sister (who is not quirkless) and bakugo asks her out but she says no because she hasn't forgiven him for all the misery he put her brother through growing upI don't know if I explained that well sorry . But I feel like the more angsty the better

A/N: Your quirk is telekinesis, like a stronger version of Midoriya's mom's. And I made you and Izuku twins so that you'd be in the same year. There’s swearing, as per bakugou cause that’s how that boi rolls

. . .

Your very first memory was not a happy one.

You were sitting in a hospital room, watching through your own tears as your brother cried. The doctor had dispassionately announced that Izuku was quirkless. Something about percentages and bones in your toe, you were too young to understand what it meant back then, after all, your own quirk hadn't emerged either, but you knew that something terribly unlucky had befallen your brother. That night, he had clung onto you and cried until he fell asleep.

Your second memory was not much better.

You were staring at the juicebox in your hand, which had miraculously flown towards you when Izuku asked you for it. You had turned to him in wonder and shock, seeing the same gleeful face beaming back at you. Your mother had congratulated you on your quirk and the whole family was brimming with pride and happiness, but that night, Izuku sobbed again. He had hoped, selfishly, that you were quirkless too, just so he wouldn't be alone in this quirk dominated world. But after the initial joy had subsided, he was reminded that he was in that 20%, and you were very resolutely in the 80%.

Your third memory came a few months later.

. . .

"Play with me, (y/n)-chan."

You looked up from your coloring book of heroes to meet red eyes. Bakugou stood in front of you, hands on his hips and a fake sword held jauntily in his hand.

"I don't wanna." You said, scooting away with him to sit closer to your brother, who looked up from his All Might drawing to eye the two of you nervously. "I'm busy."

"No you're not! Let's play heroes!" He brandished his sword at you. At the word 'heroes', your face lit up, all apprehension disappearing almost entirely. There was nothing in the world you and your brother loved more than heroes: literally gods among men in your young, impressionable eyes.

"Okay! Izu-chan lets go!" You said happily, standing up and tugging at the fabric of your brother's shirt. His eyes widened and he sputtered something out frantically that you didn't quite catch.

"No! Not Deku, just you!" Bakugou said grumpily, small hand reaching out to grab your wrist. You looked at him in confusion, still not letting go of your brother's shirt.

"What? No we're all gonna be heroes!" You argued, confused why you couldn't all play together. Looking at the expression on Izuku's face though, you couldn't help but think you were missing something.

"He doesn't even have a quirk! He can't be a hero!" Bakugou argued back, pulling your wrist hard enough to jerk you away from Izuku.

"I-I-I..." Were the only words your brother could muster out, big tears already starting to form. Having just found out he was quirkless a couple months ago, the wound was still far too fresh. You gasped upon seeing the wetness on his cheeks, and wrenched yourself out of Bakugou's grip to dash to your brothers side.

"Kacchan don't say that!" You said angrily, hugging the sobbing boy tightly against you. You didn't understand. It seemed like so recently the three of you were happily role-playing as your favorite heroes together, but like a switch, Bakugou has decided to push your brother out of his life.

"Come on (y/n)-chan! You actually have a quirk so why are you hanging around that dork all the time!"

"He's not a dork! He's my brother!"

Bakugou let out a loud frustrated huff, stomping his feet. "I don't care!"

"If Izu-chan isn't playing then I'm not playing." You said resolutely, glaring at the angry boy in front of you.

"Why're you being so lame!? Fricken Deku is so damn weak!"

Your brother was starting to cry harder. You didn't understand why Bakugou hated Izuku suddenly, you didn't know why quirks mattered to much to him, you didn't know why Bakugou was so adamant about playing with you. All you knew was that he had made your brother cry, and that as absolutely unacceptable.

"We don't want to be friends with you anymore! Go away!!" You yelled at him.

You could practically feel waves of rage rolling off of him as he threw the toy sword onto the ground with a loud smack.

"Fine!"

Turning around, he stomped off.

. . .

As the three of you grew older, you began to realize the reasoning behind the sudden strained relationship between Izuku and Bakugou. You realized the utter distaste for weakness Bakugou felt, and the embarrassment and frustration he felt when he was rescued from drowning by your brother when you all were little. You understood the yearning your brother felt for a quirk, the shame and sadness he felt when he was around Bakugou. It hurt you beyond measure to see this rift between previous best friends grow wider with every passing year.

It seemed as if Bakugou's cruelty worsened with age. As kids, it was harmless things, like not wanting to play with Izuku. Then it led to name-calling and making fun of him. Despite your best efforts to stand up for your brother, the misery snowballed into verbal and even physical abuse. Far too many times during middle school did you have to wipe away Izuku's tears and bandage his scraped knees. Every other day did you find yourself yelling at Bakugou, only for him to laugh in that infuriating way of his. You were so sick of it.

It didn't help at all either, how he still had the nerve to talk to you as if nothing was wrong. In elementary school it was small, like demanding you play with him or making you sleep next to him during nap time, but much like his tormenting of your brother, it worsened. Despite your numerous attempts to tell him to go away, he was always there to harasses you, and glower and anybody who tried to talk to you, even if it was just your brother.

But finally, things took a turn for the better. It was the last year of middle school, very late at night, when Izuku woke you up to tell you a secret: that he had met All Might, and that the hero was going to bestow an unimaginably strong power onto him, and that he was going to be a hero. It was like you discovering your quirk all over again. You had to keep it a secret from your mother of course, but that night the two of you hardly slept. The pure joy and happiness you felt for him could barely be contained by your shared bedroom.

With your brother's new quirk-to-be came a spurt of motivation for you too. While he spent his summer building muscle on the beach, you honed your own quirk. Much like your mother's, it was not very strong, but you pushed past your quirk fatigue, Izuku pushed past the strain of his muscles, and within a couple of brutally tough months, the two of you found yourselves in front of U.A highschool, hand in hand. It was a childhood dream come true.

. . .

"Oi. (y/n)-chan."

You physically cringed when you heard Bakugou address you like that. It was fine when you were younger, but every random once in a while, even as teenagers, he added the 'chan' at the end. It always embarrassed you to no end. Only two people in the world dared call you that, Izuku and him.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing." He smirked, looking away. He really just wanted to see the angry (it was nothing but cute in his eyes) expression that crossed your face upon hearing the 'chan'. You glared daggers at him, eyes shifting back to your textbook as you angrily tried to focus on the words in front of you. You failed to notice the frown that crossed his face as troubling thoughts resurfaced in his head. Bakugou was not one to feel nervous, but today the anxiety fogged his head. After all, he had a plan for today, a plan involving you.

Going to highschool had definitely lightened the bullying on Izuku's end, but it seemed to heighten the awkward tension on your side. The memories of your past friendship with him never faded, but the torment he put your brother through was still fresh in your mind. While you could not deny the fact that Bakugou had grown rather handsome over the years, you couldn't bring yourself to look past his... well, his shit personality.

When class was over, you excused yourself to the bathroom, telling Izuku to wait for you outside because after-school bathroom lines were not to be taken lightly.

Wiping your hands and pushing the door open, you barely made a couple steps out before a hand darted out and snagged your forearm. Instinctively, you activated your quirk in self defense. But upon seeing it was Bakugou who dared grab your arm, your self defense turned to annoyance and you sent a nearby water bottle hurtling towards him.

"Don't touch me Bakugou." You said angrily as he nimbly dodged your attack. You tried pulling your arm free but his grip was unyielding.

"Bakugou? What happened to Kacchan?" He questioned, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yo-"

Before you could sputter out a response, his face turned serious. "I need to talk to you, now. Let's go."

Pulling none too gently on your arm, he led you away from the bathrooms and back to your classroom. Despite your protests, your feet slid along behind him no matter how hard you struggled.

"Stop wriggling." He growled. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your eyes narrowed and you eyed him with distaste as he slid the now empty classroom's door open and pulled you in, closing it behind you.

"Well," you glowered, finally managing to wrench you arm free and pulling your sleeve up, revealing red indentations. "I think you did already."

"If you just follo-"

"Shut up. I don't care." You said angrily, and now that his hands were off you, you took the opportunity to walk right back out the door. Whatever he needed to tell you wasn't nearly as important as the fact that Izuku was still waiting for you outside.

"Just listen!" He yelled, the hint of desperation in his voice causing you to pause. "Fuck, I know you hate me (y/n)-chan. But just fucking listen."

You cringed again at his casual mentioning of your name again. How did he expect you to listen to him when he couldn't even oblige to your simple request of addressing you by you last name like literally everyone else did?

"Don't call me (y/n)-chan! we're not kids anymore!"

"Fucking Deku calls you that doesn't he!?"

"Izuku actually cares about me!"

"You think I don't!?"

"No you fucking don't!!"

Not one minute had passed since the two of you were alone and already you were practically nose to nose, glowering at each other. He was the one to break away, letting out a long exhale and dragging a hand over his face in frustration.

"This is exactly what I mean. This is fucking stupid. I want us to start over."

"What?" You were taken aback, not only because of his words, but because you realized he backed down for once. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking again.

"I don't want us to be like this every time we talk. I don't want you to hate me."

Your eyebrows raised, surprise evident on your face. "That's what you wanted to say to me?" You let out a short derisive laugh. "Stop wasting my time."

"I'm serious." He growled.

You let out a huff. "Fine. I do hate you. If you think talking to me like this is going to change that then..." you let out another short laugh. "Then oh boy are you wrong."

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for being such an asshole." He looked almost in pain when he said it, hand reaching up to tug at the hairs at the base of his neck. It didn't seem sincere enough.

"Great. How eloquent of you. Can I go now?" You said coldly.

"No!" He almost shouted, reaching out to grab you again but stopping himself. He knew he would't get anywhere with you if he pissed you off again. "Listen- I've acted so damn shitty to you for so long. I... I miss being around you."

You let out a quiet breath.

"The older we get the harder it is for me to ignore it. So give me a chance to start over."

For a moment, you almost wanted to let him. But that thought was pushed out by guilt--where you really going to betray your brother just because Bakugou decided to act sweet for a moment?

"Hell no. Don't be so full of yourself."

"Fuck. (Y/n) you aren't making this any easier."

Your heart pounded at those words and you practically saw red.

"Excuse me? Are you actually kidding me? Easier? How can you be so... so... entitled?  You think I'm just gonna drop down and forgive you for literal years of bullying just because you said sorry once?"

You saw him open his mouth to protest but you raised a hand to shut him up.

"Because that's what you are, Bakugou. You're a bully. You're abusive and violent, and well... I feel like I barely have any memories of you where I'm not fighting with you."

Every word leaving your mouth was like a stab in his heart. Hearing you call him those words made his heart ache with guilt. All those years, he had acted that way to win you away from your brother, to prove that he was better. And without realizing it, the jealousy had spiraled endlessly out of control.

"Listen, I get it... you've been handed literally everything from the day you were born. So you think you just deserve an apology because you asked nicely. But do you even know how many times you made Izuku cry? For fucks sake! You should be begging Izuku for forgiveness, not me!"

You were breathless as all those pent up angers spilled out of you. Yet for some reason, it didn't feel good to scream at him like this, and it hurt to see him flinch at your words. If anything, it worsened the frustration and sadness you've come to associate with you childhood friend...

"This isn't about Deku!"

"Maybe not to you, Bakugou!" You yelled. "You've never been able to accept him! And I only hate you because of how you treat him!"

The two of you fell silent, with you still huffing angrily. Bakugou's fists were clenched at his sides. It was becoming painfully obvious to him that the conversation would not end in the direction he had hoped.

"Bakugou, tell me straight, because after all these years I've never understood. What's the difference between Izuku and me? We look the same. Is it cause I'm a girl? His quirk? It just 'showed up late'. Why do you hate him so damn much, yet care enough to apologize to me?"

"...because you were never weak. You stick to what you know it right. All Deku would do is sit back and let you defend him."

You seethed. "We both know there's more to it then that."

He stopped, opening his mouth and closing it as he fought to pull out the right words.

"You're... I don't fucking know. You're more."

You were getting tired of his vagueness. "If you have something to say then say it!

"Fucking fine!" He roared. "Do you need me spell it out for you? Why are you so goddamn dense!? You're special. You're beautiful. You're strong. I fucking like you (y/n), is that good enough!?"

Gritting his teeth, he turned away in embarrassment, the tips of his ears reddening. It wasn't as if he were shy about admitting it, he had just hoped it would come out when the two of you weren't in the midst of an argument.

Your jaw almost hit the ground as all the anger drained away from the shock. You couldn't quite believe it. The tension between you two was obvious but you never thought it was rooted in actual affection. It would be a lie to say that your feelings were completely opposite, but any attraction you had felt for him in the past was so deeply buried under years of anger and frustration that they didn't override your current emotions. You wanted to like him. You wanted to forgive him. But when you thought about your brother, you just couldn't. A quiet and awkward moment passed.

"Do you think saying that will excuse everything you've done?" You asked softly. You watched as his eyes softened with unbridled disappointment.

"No." He admitted. "I know it won't."

"What did you expect me to say?"

"Tsch..." He let out a quiet curse, lips twisting in bitterness. You let out a sigh, letting your shoulders slump.

"I don't want it to be like this (y/n)."

"Me neither."

Silence settled into the room as you absorbed his confession. Without a doubt, what he did was wrong. But it would also be wrong to completely disregard him when he was obviously trying to change for the better. And your childhood friend, the Kacchan version of Bakugou, must still be somewhere within the boy standing in front of you.

"I won't... I won't walk away from you completely, Bakugou... or I suppose... Katsuki. I'm glad you've shown me remorse today. But I don't forgive you yet."

"I'll change." He said gruffly, finally meeting your eyes with a piercing stare.

"Then show me. Prove to me that you can grow up. Because right now, I still can't see past the way you were when we were kids."

"How?" He asked, voice softening to match your tone.

"Treat Izuku as an equal. That's a start. You have all of highschool. Show me, show Izuku that you've grown. Maybe then."

You waited for a response and when you didn't get one, you turned to leave.

"Watch me."

"I will." .

.

.

Masterlist

[gloves94]

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 7

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Bullying!

Raised as an orphan, Nel Saintday, endured years of torture from the Slytherin House. The Dark Lord only allowed her existence for her to serve a very specific vile purpose for him. Her birthright dictates for her to choose a side in the Wizarding War… But what would happen if she dares defy the Dark Lord and his wishes? And what happens when she falls for her tormentor? Will Nel fulfill her life’s purpose? And what side will her tormentor, Draco Malfoy, choose? The light that calls to him or the darkness…

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

1 9 9 2, Sep 1st

Families, friends and siblings bid goodbye to students who would be starting their term at Hogwarts.

The compartment was quiet, it was also darker than Nel remembered. She sat with her hands being kept busy knitting. A hobby she had picked up since she was seven to entertain herself back at Wool’s. It was fairly time consuming and gave her something to do since she wasn’t allowed to have any art supplies and the hours of watching TV were limited to all orphans.

She still couldn’t shake off the memory of what had happened during this painful holiday. The only redeeming quality about being at Wool’s was that Lucy, probably the person she cared for the most, was there.

“Where’s Lucy?” She had demanded from a girl that was in the girls’ dormitory. The seven-year-old shrugged. She snapped her head to the side and asked a slightly older girl. “Where’s Bonilla?” She asked again.

And again, the girl muttered a simple ‘dunno.’

Hearing a slight snicker, she turned around, eyes fixed into slits as they landed on Wool’s favorites. Aisha and Alf, two orphans that were always together, and did everything and anything just to be on the Matron’s good graces with complete and absolute disregard to others.

“Oh? Don’t you know?” Aisha asked complacently. Her thick hair braided over her shoulder. In that moment Nel wanted nothing more than to drag her out of the orphanage by it. She still wore pink just like Wool.

“Your dear friend didn’t tell you? Didn’t bother writing to you?” Alf added.

“Bonilla got adopted,” Aisha announced.

That was a lie if Nel had ever heard one. Adoption was rare. Even more if you were a teenager. Children amongst the ages of one, two and three are the lucky ones, they’ll be in and out of here in a flash. Parents like that you see, their easily moldable to their ideals and virtues, still not hardened by trauma or the ruthless punches of life. After you turn five and stop being cute, your chances decrease more and more with each year. Being twelve, almost thirteen and living here. Nel had no question that she would be stuck living in this hellhole until she turned eighteen.

When she was a child Nel was kept locked up in the laundry room and prevented from attending the adoption fairs. Wool didn’t want to risk her doing something “done by the devil,” and have her make a teacup accidentally levitate or make butterflies come out from under her sleeves. This trauma scarred her innocence.

“That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” she scoffed not buying their shit for a moment.

There was no way Lucy, as wonderful as she was, had been adopted. If anything, maybe Wool had gotten out of hand with one of the little ones one day, maybe she had gotten out of hand with her and ran away? It wasn’t uncommon, but why would she leave without telling her?

“You best believe it,” Alf said clicking his tongue. “Besides, why would she even want to stay here and put up with you?” “She couldn’t wait to get away,” his sidekick commented snidely arms crossing over her chest.

“I know you’re lying,” she scowled at him. “Tell me where she it. What did Wool do to her?” She marched forward towards them with threatening steps.

“Truth hurts, don’t it?” Alf sneered with a malicious scowl.

She stopped a couple of steps away from them. The expressions on their faces were enough to set the girl’s already boiling blood into a blur of madness.  Nel couldn’t remember the last time she had been this angry. She didn’t even realize how mad she was until several loud pops echoed the room and shards of glass began raining down as the ceiling’s lights popped. Several girls scrambled out of the room screaming fearfully with Aisha leading the way.

“Freakshow,” Alf added.

She could hear Wool’s steps stomping up the steps as her large body came wobbling thought the door and gaping at the scattered glass. She didn’t waste a moment in throwing Nel into her room without dinner and locking her in. The girl was glad she had brought some treats with her. Treats she was going to give to Lucy…

She snapped out of her thoughts when the compartment door opened. Theodore leaned against the entrance. “Nel!” He greeted with a smile joining her in the compartment. His curly hair had gotten longer, but his green eyes remained the same. Soulful, insightful, his clothes dark and crisply ironed.

Both had exchanged a handful of letters over the summer and despite the friendship the two had, neither ever crossed the line of inquiring about anything outside of their school lives. Prying into their familiar lives was out of bounds. Nel had only heard rumors that circled the school, but she knew that Nott’s parents had been loyal followers of You-Know-Who, just like had Malfoy’s, Parkinson’s, Crabbe, Goyle and others in the class. She figured some things were better left unsaid. “What you got there?” He commented dropping opposite of her, raising his feet so that he could comfortably sit across the seat.

“Just trying to keep busy,” she responded mindlessly as she continued to knit a pair of black winter gloves.

“I trust you’re more than halfway ahead of all of our classes already?”

When you’re locked up in a laundry room 24 hours of the day with not much to do you really don’t have much of an alternative to preserve your sanity. “I have a business to tun Nott,” she hid her anguish and smiled before whipping out a handful of hard-earned galleons most courtesy of Misters Crabbe and Goyle. “Pumpkin pastries on me today!” She beamed at him.

Again the compartment’s door opened and much to her distaste Draco Malfoy stepped in.

“Nott,” He acknowledged, and his silver eyes turned to seethe at Elowen who was staring back at him with contempt. Let’s just say things hadn’t gone well when the two had a recent tun in at Flourish and Blotts.

“"I'm sure you can find better company that Saintday," Malfoy coughed. Looking between the two aghast at the friendship.

The twelve-year-old dark-haired girl was wondering inside of the shop scanning over the countless of book covers, titles and authors. She didn’t want to get any more books than what was required of the curriculum. Her brain was already more than fried from all of those exhaustive readings. It seemed like she had picked the wrong day to come to Diagon Alley since the bookshop was overcrowded with a famous Wizard that was doing a book signing. Not that she paid much attention to that.

Presently she walked around with a stack of books in her arms. This time she was alone. Seeing as Professor Snape had already showed her the ropes and string of Diagon Alley she did not require to be escorted. Not that she minded, it was almost better like this.  

Another twelve-year-old also happened to be in Flourish and Blotts. The bitter blonde was a couple of steps away on a balcony watching the girl with his eyes narrowed. He saw how she was taking her sweet time browsing the large stack that was on the shelf.

He looked down at the book he was reading and ripped off a page simply because he felt like it and folded it away. He walked down the short steps of the balcony and approached the Slytherin girl he had been carefully observing. She didn’t seem to have noticed his presence yet and if she did, she chose not to acknowledge it. Her hair was longer than the year before now reaching her shoulders and there was a distant look in her dark eyes. Of course, not that, that would’ve stopped him from acting like a total dick.

He forcefully ran into her on purpose. The impact so strong the tower of books she had been holding came tumbling down to the wood floor. He grabbed her lower arm before she could fall holding her up.

“Watch where you’re going Saintday,” He greeted her with a terribly rude scoff.

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going Malfoy,” she snapped back irate quickly withdrawing her arm back to her person. She groaned at the unwelcome presence and bent down to reach for her books when she saw his brand designer shoe stomp on them.

“Get your foot off my books, because Merlin help you if you don’t, I will gladly sock you,” she threatened with an angry scowl.

He huffed a weak chuckle. ‘Physical threats. How typical of Saintday,’ he thought to himself humorously. Not that he was unaware that the orphan would deliver on her promise. Instead, he stood unbothered and leaned against the bookshelf next to him with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hm.. No, I don’t think I will. You see, I don’t really feel like it,” he hummed calmly while pretending to look at some invisible dirt underneath his fingernails.

Nel seetehed in her anger. Great. Now her day had been ruined. “What do you want Malfoy? Don’t you have anything better to do like hold your moms hand or something?”

“Jealous?” He was quick to respond. “At least I have one,” he shot back sharply. “Oh, boo-hoo,” she cried out the words mockingly, dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you for stating the obvious. Insulting an orphan on not having a family? That only makes you an even bigger prick!” She exclaimed. “Now move, before I make you,” she raised her want at his nose.

“Watch it slugbreath,” he did not move an inch, yet there was some hesitation in his voice divulging he was intimidated.

Nel suddenly stopped. She froze when she felt what felt like a harsh tap come down on her shoulder. She was familiar with this sensation. She turned slightly to see the shimmering silver snake head from Lucius Malfoy’s cane. It felt just as bad even worse than Old Man Cowell’s down by the General Store. “Mind your manners Draco. That is not way to speak to a lady,” a slithering voice spoke from behind her. The voice cold and emotionless holding a scolding edge. Without any hesitation whatso ever Draco finally stepped back and off her books.

Nel turned in surprise to see Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, standing behind her. The man stood tall and was a refined contrast to the other witches and wizards in the room. His snake cane once again reached for her face and he brushed the stray bangs out of her face to get a better glance at the beauty marks that dotted her face.

“We meet again Ms. Saintday,” he said darkly. "I trust your studies are going well?" He pulled out his wand from his cane and with a flick all of her books neatly arranged in a tower back into her hands. She remained silent eyeing the man with suspicious. Draco appeared to be just as confused as to why his father was being so damn polite and to a Muggle-born witch out of all people. Why was Lucius Malfoy, one of the biggest muggle haters of all time, the man that had probably taught Draco the filthy slur of Mudblood and all of his hating virtues, being so damn polite? After all, racism was a learned behaviour. So why be so kind?

“Thanks,” she responded curly in a dry tone and witch much unease looking down at the stack of books.

"Draco's told me all about you,” Malfoy Sr. began. “He says you're quite the accomplished witch."

What?

Her expression shifted into one of pure shock. Eyes quickly darting to pale boy who was presently scarlet in the face. A more than irritated expression on his eyes as he shot his father a silencing glare.

“Also heard you have a knack for mischief. Particularly for head swelling spells…”

Boy, wouldn’t she like to swell his head right now. “I have to do well in order to keep my scholarship." She answered dully, disregarding his praises or mention of the head swelling hex. No way she was apologizing to daddy dearest over that. "And may I ask what you intend on doing after finish your studies?"

Why was he asking her so many questions? Why was he so invested in this topic of conversation?

She was twelve, soon to be thirteen in November. How on Earth was she supposed to know what she wanted to do the rest of her life.

"For now, I just want to make my own living in the world."

Which was a normal ambition for anyone. Getting out of Wool’s. Being able to afford decent clothing that wasn’t washed away, eaten by moths or destroyed by former owners. Beautiful things. Being able to treat her friends and loved ones to lovely things like ice cream and pastries… It was not an impossible dream.

"Of course. How ambitious of you." He paused for a moment and looked at her. Simply starred at her face. His intense glare made Nel shrink slightly. She had never been so uncomfortable when interacting with an adult. "We best be moving on," He turned his eyes to his son instructing him to follow.

"Wait Mr. Malfoy," Nel paused seeing something on top of her pile of books. "This isn't mine," she said handing out the small black book to him. "I've got more than enough reading to do. Don't need any more books to sit gathering dust in my dormitory," she said sheepishly. Malfoy Sr. Looked at the black book and then back to her before taking it in his hand and turning away without another word.

"I never said that!" Malfoy growled out at her leaning in closer wearing a scowl. His face angry. Elowen smirked at him. "Sure Malfoy." She said haughtily.

"Hmm…" Nel hummed an evil smirk growing on her face. "You know some people would describe me as being a terribly charming witch, others might even say, accomplished." She dangled his father’s words in his face, subtley taunting him.  

Again, Malfoy's ears turned red with embarrassment.

"My father only said that out of pity! What else was he supposed to say to a pitiful, filthy,Muggle-born orphan!" He shouted angrily before storming out of the compartment.

She highly doubted that Lucius Malfoy was a man running a charity of compliments to give to strange second years at bookstores. There was an underlying motive to his words. A secret he was hiding. Something even Draco didn’t know.

Theodore let out a small chuckle and brought his watch up to his face taking note of the time. "And… it begins," he laughed. "Merlin, we're not even there yet and you and Malfoy are already at each other's throats."

"He started it," She shrugged. "You saw!" She said incredulously meeting his green judging gaze.

"It's weird, I feel like he has a strange fixation on you… Sometimes it's almost like he goes out of his way just to bug you." Nott shook his head.

"Of course, he's got some strange fixation. I'm the only Muggle-born Slytherin as far as I know." Nel rolled her eyes. "He'd be just as bad if Granger had been sorted into Slytherin."

"But you're not," Theodore interjected. She arched an eyebrow in confusion. "Muggle-born, I mean." He closed the book he had initially opened to read and lowered his feet, so he was sitting up straight. "You don't know that. You don't know who your parents were."

"Are," She corrected icily in a strained voice. This was crossing on the boundary the two had outspokenly agreed never to cross which meant family or life outside of Hogwarts was outside of the bounds of conversation. "I also don't know if they're with life or not. For all that I know they abandoned me at a Muggle orphanage. When they could've left me anywhere else in this bloody damn world. I would've preferred to be left at Gringotts for all I care!" She didn't realize that her voice pitch had raised into an upset tone. Her eyes darkening as she shed a ray of light into her life and harbored resentment due to her abandonment.

Her parents had abandoned her, like it or not. Whatever had or hadn't happened to them. And Lucy… Wool had insisted that she had gotten adopted and refused to give Nel her new address claiming it was confidential information; Wool said that if Lucy wanted, she would’ve returned for Nel, even written to her. Even Lucy had abandoned her... Which almost stung more than her own parent's going amiss. Perhaps Aisha and Alf really were right. Maybe Lucy didn't want to be stuck with a freak like her. A freak that set rooms on fire when upset, that made light fixtures explode and bathrooms pipes burst and floor. She felt her eyes water and turned away from Nott. The emotional wound still fresh. She didn't apologize for her outburst.

Nott looked at her upset expression. At the pain behind her eyes and in that moment he knew. He knew that no matter how many hits life threw at her. How many punches and jabs others threw at her. She wasn't made of steel, she was wounded, every jab digging deeper and deeper. He was about to speak when the compartment's door was thrown open.

"Well if it isn't Nelly and Teddy!" Tracey tossed it open and put her trunk away before jumping on the seat next to Nel. She gave her a side hug. The interruption seemed to be enough for her to snap out of her dark thoughts.

"Salazar," Theodore grimaced, "I beg you, please do not start calling us that."

"What should we call you then?" Nel grinned at her friend despite the great distaste for the nickname. It was refreshing being back with her little Hogwarts family. With people she actually cared about.

Xxxxx

Arriving at Hogwarts second years don't take the boats to cross the lake to the castle. Instead they ride in enchanted carriages that take them across the road and up to the school.

Nel almost fell back when she saw the creatures that were pulling the carriages. She made a sound. Animals generally did not like her, and mutually she did not like them.

"What is it?" Tracey asked confused trying to see what was making her friend so upset.

"What are those?" Nel asked fearfully not removing her eyes from the large winged horses. Their gaunt bodies seemed to be skeletal almost ghostly with reptilian features, their skin leathery and worn and with massive wings that resembled a bat's or some nocturnal monster straight from your nightmares. Their eyes resembling foggy crystal balls.

"Nel, what are you talking about?" Tracey squinted really trying to see what the big deal was yet saw nothing. Hesitantly they approached the carriage and the three of them took a seat. They were joined by three Hufflepuffs who seemed too absorbed discussing which Quidditch team was better if the Holyhead Harpies or the Appleby Arrows.

Of course, Tracey felt the need to weight in her two cents and defend that Puddlemere United was the best of the best.

"You can see them too?" She turned to see Theodore with surprise. Tracey was much too distracted to listen in their conversation.

"They can't see them, can they?" She noticed the blank looks on the students around them and in the other carriages.

"Am.. Am I going mad?"

"No," Theodore explained. "They're Therstals, I've read about them." He licked his lips, his eyes forward expression turned into a solemn one.

"Only people who've witnessed death can see them."

Her jaw went slack at the information.

"So…" She egg shelled on that topic they never spoke about, their home lives. "You've seen someone die?"

He nodded grimly, pondering deep in his painful memories. "My mom, when I was five," he said. A dull expression on his eyes. She didn’t want to pry further.

"But…” She paused taking in a deep frustrating breath. “How can that be? I've never seen anyone die."

xxxxx

AN: Hey you! Thank you for tunning in. So, any theories on why Nel can see the Therstals? On what happened to Lucy? It’s been a slow story so far, but I’ve written a couple of chapters ahead and I just wrote out first Draco x OC moment! (This year will be short I promise). (Also a new romantic protagonist will be introduced soon ;) )

[the-singular-peep]

@stevieboyharrington

So I did not completely finish the first 14 of In Which, though I’m close, so here’s a little snack to tide anyone waiting over!! (Ask to be tagged like this wonderful person did if you’d like a notification whenever I end up posting ;^) )

Christmas Eve, 1984

 Hopper grunted when he looked at the calendar. The 24th of December-- Christmas Eve.

Last year at this time, Hopper hadn't thought much of Christmas. He had gone to the work party early in the evening, left his mystery girl in the woods some food, and gone home. He took an early shower and went to sleep at eight, and the next morning he had woken at seven and had done a whole lot of nothing all day.

Then three days later, he had found Eleven.

Naturally, the two did not celebrate a late Christmas. For weeks, Hopper was simply trying to get Eleven accustomed to living in a real home and eating real food, and the holidays didn't even cross his mind. The first week was spent staying up all night with her nightmares, and from then on there was the bed-wetting, and inability to eat whole servings, and then the refusal to eat anything but Eggos. (El had gone straight from scared little animal to stubborn little girl). Then in January, Eleven had gotten terribly sick and that had been all Hopper could think of, and by the time things had settled down a little, the holidays were long past. 

Now it was December 24th of the next year, and Hopper had no idea what to plan to make this special for his daughter's first Christmas.

He had explained Christmas and Santa to her, of course -- to much confusion from Eleven, and then fear at the idea of a fat man breaking into your house and taking your food (That conversation had taken place on the way to the Wheeler’s one morning, and instead of explaining it himself he had pushed her into the house and told her to ask Mike. She had come home that evening with a smile and strong belief in said fat man, though Hopper was sure that the boys did not believe in him themselves.) -- but they hadn't made a plan. He had bought her some things-- some new clothes, tasteful makeup, a series of stuffed animals, a few books and a doll or two -- but that was it.

Now it was the day of, and he had no clue what to do to make the night special. Just as he was having that thought, at 7 am on a Monday in his fleece pajama pants over a pan of bacon, the phone rang.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, because he hated the phone, but before he could answer he heard little feet pattering through the house. He didn’t even have time to remind Eleven to be cautious before he heard her little voice answering an unheard question.

That was a little odd, because ever since he had begun permitting her to pick up the phone the week before, she had developed a bad habit of just standing and breathing into the receiver without saying anything. However, if she was talking, he knew it had to be to someone safe. Before he could ponder it more, or take the bacon off the stove, a little body slammed into his waist and a hand was thrusting the phone in front of his face.

"Joyce." Eleven said plainly as he took the telephone. Hopper put it to his ear.

"Hello?"  

"Hey, Hop! Your daughter tells me that Santa comes tonight, " The cheery voice of Joyce Byers chirped, and Hopper could practically feel her smile.

"Yep, that he does. What can I help you with, Joyce?" Hopper asked, keeping his focus on the way Eleven was trying desperately to unwrap herself from the telephone cord.  

"Well, Will had asked, and I was hoping--" And then Hopper couldn't hear her anymore, because he had dropped the phone and was catching El by the arm as she nearly toppled to the ground. He set her back on her feet by the arm and tousled her hair when she looked up at him with an expression of fear.

“You’re fine, kiddo. Don’t get yourself wrapped up like that, okay?”

Eleven nodded at the instruction and rubbed at her arm, and Hopper bent down to pick up the phone again.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Hopper said gruffly into the receiver. He started and then stopped again, remembering not to say any name that could be connected with Eleven over the phone. “Kid decided she was gonna be an acrobat and it didn’t go quite as planned.”

Joyce laughed for a moment before continuing.

“Will and I were just wondering… if maybe you and yours would like to come over tonight? Will says he wants to make her Christmas extra special this year. We could have.. I don’t know, hot chocolate, and popcorn and watch a movie… And.. If you two wanted, maybe you could…stay the night?”

Hopper loved the way her voice lilted up at the end, as if she was expecting him to be able to resist any request she made.

“Sounds good to me, let me check with the kiddo.” Hopper put a hand over the receiver and looked to Eleven.

She was currently glaring at the phone cord and tying it up in knots with her mind, just to show her distaste for how it had tripped her. When she noticed Hopper looking at her, she looked up at him and wiped her nose with her sleeve. Hopper shook his head, smiling.

“You weirdo,” He chuckled, and she stuck her tongue out at him, but it was all in good fun. “How do you feel about stayin’ with Joyce and the boys tonight and celebrating Christmas?”

“Yes! Yes!” Eleven said, grinning and nodding emphatically. “Please, Hop, please!”

And that is how the two found themselves in the Byers’ living room at nine PM on a Monday, Hopper festooned with a Christmas hat and his arm around Joyce while Will and Eleven sat cross-legged on the floor with their eyes glued to the television.

“Yeah, that’s Hermie again,” Will said, pointing. Eleven scrunched up her face to think.

“Didn’t go to elf practice?” She asked, trying to clarify which character was which. Will nodded.

“Yup, same one. When I was little I told mom I wanted to be a dentist when I grew up just because Hermie did. I liked his hair.” Will laughed, and Eleven giggled, too.

Jonathon was in the kitchen stirring a pan of hot chocolate when he heard the two younger kids laughing, and he peeped into the living room and smiled.

Will and Eleven had changed into their pajamas about an hour ago, Will now dressed in a blue striped set and Eleven in a yellow polka dotted one, and the sight of the two of them seated on the floor surrounded by popcorn bits was quite endearing. Even more so, however, was his mother, sitting on the couch and leaning heavily on the chief of police, who had his hand tangled in her hair.

Jonathon knew they weren’t dating yet. The wound was still open from the loss of Bob -- that man had truly loved his mother and she had loved him right back -- but, while they weren’t in love, per se, Hopper made his mother feel safe and cared for, and just seeing the way she was around him made Jonathon smile.

Plus Hopper was wearing a Christmas hat. That made him smile, too. He had to get a picture of this.

Very quietly, and after turning off the burner so the hot chocolate wouldn’t scorch, Jonathon moved over to the table and picked up his camera. He was going to take it slow and easy, to get the best shot possible of the people without them noticing so it would be genuine and candid, but before he could he heard voices.

“Where are you going?” His brother’s voice asked, and it was El’s that responded.

“Marshmallows.”

Jonathon heard the sound of someone getting up, and he knew if he waited much longer the moment would be lost. And so, he began to move hastily towards the doorway with his camera in tow. He didn’t even think about the fact that he was wearing socks, or that the floors were hardwood, and before he knew it, Jonathon was sliding into the living room like a regular photography ninja, his legs splayed and hands holding the camera for dear life.  

Maybe, just maybe he would have been unnoticed if he hadn’t shouted. But he was caught off guard by the slipping of his feet, and that surprise outed itself as a shout. Instantly the family looked up, El from her place standing ready to go raid the kitchen.

“Smile!” Jonathon laughed, because his mother had already started smiling at him and Will was laughing at how he burst into the room so unexpectedly, but El and Hopper were less than amused.

El was on a mission for sugar, and she was caught very much off guard.

Hopper was smitten with Jonathon’s mother, and he was caught very much off guard.

The picture that resulted was one that Jonathon would keep forever. His mother had a kind and warm smile on her face, one leg drawn up under her as she leaned over to put a hand on Hopper’s leg. Will sat on the floor by the couch, legs beginning to stretch out, his eyes closed in laughter and his teeth showing.

And then there were El and Hopper, El standing with one fist clenched and the other open in surprise, Hopper sitting with one leg propped on the other and his arm around Joyce, and both of them were wearing the exact same expression. It was a look that conveyed disgust, annoyance, confusion and surprise all in one, and Jonathon almost cackled when he saw how alike they looked.

And then El was at his feet, her head barely reaching his armpit, and she was telling him without words that she was in desperate need for some marshmallows, and that he should help her in her quest.

 “Please,” She added to her unspoken request, and Jonathon laughed. He set the camera on the chair beside him and began off toward the kitchen, still laughing at the look on the house guests’ faces.

That picture later was stuck back in a photo album, with the caption “The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far From the Tree; Family Christmas 1984”

[you-did-well-my-love]

Drama Review: Strong Woman Do Bong Soon

There are a few grievances I have with the drama, and unfortunately they’re not small grievances, but overall I really enjoyed the drama.

Rating: 4/5 I rated it a 9/10 on mydramalist, but i’m thinking about lowering it to an 8.5 tbh...

OST: I wasn’t a fan of the superpower girl song they played, but I know that some people really liked it and were dying for the song to be released. Just depends on your taste I guess.

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Synopsis:  Do Bong Soon is a woman with superhuman strength. With her strength she gets hired as the bodyguard of the spoiled CEO of the gaming company Ainsoft, Ahn Min Hyuk. Min Hyuk is being threatened by an unknown enemy, and is determined to solve the problem himself out of his distaste and distrust of the police. In Guk Doo is a policeman and Bong Soon’s crush since childhood. When series of kidnappings occur in Bong Soon’s small, quiet neighborhood Dobong-dong, their little community is thrown into chaos. Combined with the job of protecting her boss’s life, Bong Soon’s already unusual life has gone wild. However, she must be careful; if she missuses her strength, she could lose it forever. (this is the mydramalist description which... hehe... i wrote)

Trigger Warning: Domestic abuse. Bong Soon’s mom was abusive towards her dad. The writers obviously intended it in a comedic way, and I think part of it is gender roles like they didn’t see the problem because *mocking tone* “men can’t get abused right?” *eye role* but it was really uncomfortable to watch. And I’m pretty sure they saw the negative comments about it because they tried to go and take it back in the finale, but even then it was still problematic. She was still verbally abusive too. 

Thoughts/Review: (no spoilers maybe a little minor general stuff)

Although I absolutely adored the cast, I went in with really low expectations because I thought the plot was ridiculous. It exceeded my expectations, and I really thought this would make my favorites list at the start, but the drama became kind of messy towards the end. Particularly with their “comic relief” side plots, which I will rant about later.

Park Bo Young, in her typical cute nature, plays a super strong badass. The writers, I thought, did a nice job introducing her powers. They clearly stated the family history and how she must use them for good, and I appreciated the straightforwardness.

It wasn’t just her abilities, the writers set up everything you needed to know quickly and cleanly:

Our two leads have an indirect history with each other

the women in her family pass down this power of super strength that cannot be abused or there will be punishment

Our female lead’s desire

The CEO needs a bodyguard

And the story moves on from there.

The effects weren’t very high quality, but they were done in a cheesy and comedic way so it didn’t really matter. I mean this wasn’t a dark, gritty, Goblin/City Hunter/Hearer/Descendants of the Sun action-type drama. It was cute and comedic with lots of bright colors and ridiculous characters.

It didn’t stop at the super powers; cheesy effects would appear around the characters too. I.e. hearts appearing around the boy she likes. 

The drama was just really extra, but in a cute way.

I also really appreciated the wit in the dialogue. 

Okay so confession: I adore boss/employee romances. There’s something about them that I find thrilling; it’s why I enjoyed Just You so much. And Introverted Boss. And Rich Man Poor Woman.

Love. Them.

So while this isn’t your typical office romance, and it is by no means a business drama, it still had a few of those romance in the office elements that I like.

But before I jump completely into the romance, I want to talk about the characters.

Park Bo Young, I have loved her since A Werewolf Boy, and I am so glad she was the lead in this drama. She fit the character perfectly and her acting was phenomenal. Her expressions and emotions were so real. The way she cried was so realistic I was thoroughly impressed. Shame on the people who complained about her crying, it was 10x better than those actresses who worry about looking pretty when they cry, or just make the face but don’t release a tear. 

And I just loved the character Do Bong Soon. She was a sassy, quirky, bundle of joy. I loved how she didn’t take anyone’s shit, she helped those who she saw in need, and she was caring of those around her.

Hyungsik. This was the role I had been waiting for him to get. I fell in love with him during High Society, and I saw his potential for a good romance drama as the lead, but that drama overall was shit. When he was cast as the lead for this, I was thrilled, and he did not disappoint. Plus the way he strut around everywhere was just hot. The boy is just so good at acting.

And his character. Ahn Min Hyuk, the boy was whipped by Bong Soon the first moment he laid eyes on her and it was fantastic. Half-an-hour into episode one. HALF. AN. HOUR. AND HE WAS WHIPPED. He accepted Do Bong Soon for who she was the moment he saw her; all of her. He respected her. And he waited until she was ready and came to him first before he made any moves. I don’t think any writers will ever be able to top the masterpiece that was Ahn Min Hyuk. (In the chaebol category at least, I’m still not over Eun Hwan Gi or Seo Jung Hoo for that matter. Sorry not sorry.) Ahn Min Hyuk is truly one of a kind.

In Guk Doo bugged the shit out of me. There. I said it. It sucks because I love Ji Soo, but this was not the role for him. Tbh, I don’t think he suited being a cop, but I hate the type of character he played in general. Those guys who start getting controlling of the girl after she starts to shift her crush to someone else. Always yelling and getting angry. Entitled bleeps who think they can decide the girl’s feelings. He was always cold to her even when they were supposed to be “friends.” I could go on, but I made my point. He became more tolerable towards the end of the drama when he started to actually do his job. Needless to say, there’s no worries for sls here. *thumbs up*

Also he was a terrible cop and should have had his badge suspended for excessive force.

I will admit: while Guk Doo annoyed me, the three of them really had good chemistry together.

The romantic chemistry, though, was off the charts. If you’re reading this and have only minimal knowledge on what this drama is about, I can almost guarantee that minimal knowledge is about the romance because it’s all anybody’s going to be talking about for the next century. 

Right from the beginning Park Bo Young and Hyungsik had amazing chemistry. You could tell they were really comfortable with each other. Their energy was always so high and bouncing back and forth; it was addicting. When they bickered, it was really quick, so the timing was perfect and then combined with their expressions it had this amazing effect.

Then their relationship started to progress and it was such a sweet, innocent slow-burn. Confession, confirmation of feelings, hug, kiss. Innocent and gradual.

All of their scenes together were phenomenal, and I will never get over the fact that Min Hyuk’s eyes just dripped with honey every time he looked at Do Bong Soon. Never.

The plot was interesting. The kidnappings were thrilling, and the mystery behind Min Hyuk’s attacker held my attention. Then about halfway through the drama, it seemed like the writers got lazy.

There were fillers. Bits of comedic relief that were kept minimal in the beginning. But then towards the middle/end they developed into “plots” of their own except they weren’t sideplots, they didn’t have a conflict nor did they do shit to actually move the story along like a sideplot is supposed to. They had no purpose. None. Yet by the end of the drama, they took up half of the airtime. I am so beyond annoyed at all of the wasted time. I thought they were pretty funny at first, but by around episode 12, I was done. This is the main reason why I can’t give the drama a higher rating, because of the hill the writers tumbled down.

There were other aspects of the plot I found lazy, things were I thought “They couldn’t come up with a better way to do this or reveal that?” but I’m not going to specify because they’re major spoilers.

Now I’m going to address the elephant in the room: the implied sexism and implied homophobia. 

So obviously you get a drama about a literal strong woman, there’s going to be some feminist vibes. And that’s what they were totally going for with Do Bong Soon and all the women in her family. There was this one time she faced some sexist dude with his car. If my memory serves me right, there was also a time she talked with her mom about how women have it harder. BUT there were also many times the dialogue had, like, implied sexism, if you know what I mean? Particularly whenever they mentioned the kidnapper. OR, the big one, how weak women are more attractive to men. Which brings me back as to why Min Hyuk was so amazing, because he constantly found Bo Soon’s strength attractive.

And now for Min Hyuk’s sexuality. This bothered me for a number of reasons, not because of anything Bong Soon or Min Hyuk said, but because of everything surrounding them. Bong Soon wasn’t bothered whatsoever by what she thought Min Hyuk’s sexuality was, and I appreciated that. But there were comments from other characters that I felt held implied homophobia. Particularly in everything Bong Soon’s mom said. And I get it “Korea’s a more conservative society” “the older generations would think that way” blah blah blah. Doesn’t change anything. Also I saw a lot of talk about queerbaiting when this was going on, which is entirely problematic on its own. Sure some of our leads’ interactions were funny, and I was fully convinced Min Hyuk didn’t care about his sexuality, but all of the context (the setting, the other characters, and the dialogue) all embody the reasons I am hesitant to watch Personal Taste.

Continuing on with the homophobia: THE DAMN DOPPLEGANGER. This actually fits into two sections: homophobia and the laziness of the writers as this character was one of the pointless “comedic relief” “sideplots”. This character was completely unnecessary. Completely. I couldn’t stand him. His character was based entirely off of exaggerating and making jokes about gay stereotypes and it seemed like a complete mockery of gay men.

I’ve tried to push all of these agitating bits out of my mind and only focus on the good: Park Bo Young and Park Hyungsik who did a fantastic job carrying this entire drama.

The ending was sweet. I was proud of Bong Soon. It felt a bit rushed in my opinion; they forced a lot to happen in a short period of time (episode length-wise not drama timeline). They also just completely tossed aside main characters. 

I’ll end it on a high note: I adored the use of symbolism with Bong Soon and the closet. Those of you who actually made it to the end of this long-ass “review” and have already seen the drama will know what I’m talking about. I legitimately thought it was beautiful. 

~~~

Finished on 4/15/17

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON OLYMPUS’ NAM SEOJUN…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 25 DEBUT AGE: 18 SKILL POINTS: 19 VOCAL | #09DANCE | 00 RAP | 12 PERFORMANCE SECONDARY SKILLS: Music composition

INTERVIEW

how young they give away their freedom.

he watches in contempt as the hopefuls skitter out of the headquarters, too naive and blinded by the utopia they’ve envisioned in their minds to realize they’re selling their souls to a world that’ll spit them out after gnawing them until they’re nothing but pieces too impaired to reassemble. the sparkle in their eyes will turn wain, and eventually, so will they.

but of course, the glisten of optimism, unadulterated trust of others, never quite appeared in his eyes. he can’t relate to their doubt in themselves but faith in everyone else, a self worth that’s reliant on the praise of others, nor would he ever want to.

because quite frankly, people like that absolutely disgust him.

and maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel bad as he watches them deteriorate. or maybe it’s just because he doesn’t seem to have a speck of empathy in him.

the silence of the still air is ruined by heavy steps as a boy no older than fifteen approaches him with a sheepish grin and shifty eyes. he hopes the disinterest and aversion in his glare is enough to dissuade them from approaching, but it’s a forlorn desire.

“e-excuse me. hyung-nim?”

his only reply is a scoff at the formality.

“i just wanted to tell you that you’re a really big inspiration of mine. seeing olympus perform live is the reason i’m even training to be an idol.”

the palpable desperation for validity hangs in the air. he almost feels uncomfortable, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to.

“it’s just, uh, you’re all so handsome and talented an–”

“okay kid, gonna stop you there. i’ll acknowledge that some of us are handsome, but i’m gonna let you in on a little secret. are you ready?” they nod with such vigor that he feels a pang of aggravation in his chest at the sheer amount of enthusiasm. “we lipsync most of our live performances – isn’t that blatantly obvious? half of the group can’t even sing.” he shrugs, utters a laugh entwined with ridicule and mockery. “if you’re looking up to us for vocals, you’re a fuckingidiot and should work on preserving the very little brain cells you have left. in fact, everyone but me sounds like a tone deaf porpoise with absolutely no care for how damaging their grating screeches are.”

“…oh.” they attempt a laugh, but it’s breathless and trembles as if they took a blow to the stomach. “you’re very, um… honest.”

“but isn’t it a part of my charm? my honesty, my aloof personality? my deadpan deliverance that’s shrouded in a veil of distaste masked as mystery mixed with a face sculpted in marble? right? actually, you don’t have to say anything. i already know how great i am, though i appreciate the mental praise.” there’s a wide grin on his face, and even he can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “but anyway, don’t worry. with a litt–uh, lot of work, you’ll have a fraction of my talent. and honestly, that’s an accomplishment in its own.” he stops himself for a moment expecting words of gratitude, but instead is met by a heavy silence. “so… why are you still standing there? did you want me to give you an autograph or something?”

“hm.” a pause. “you know, it’s funny. i always thought this was just an act to balance the energy of the other members, that people just haven’t been able to see the real you and that you’re not as cold as they make you seem.” they pause, fist balled so tight that the tips of their fingers turn white while the rest of their hand is tinged purple. “now i know you’re not – you’re much worse. you’re absolutely frozen.”

“hey, that’s a good movie. thanks for the comparison.”

their voice croaks before they throw their hands up, storming off without another word in exasperation. some people just have no sense of humor, he supposes. but at least now nobody is pestering him.

he later hears that the kid never came back and abandoned the dream of infamy, apparently due to ‘a revelation of reality versus expectation.’ their words are a riddle to everyone but seojun, but he doesn’t bother telling anyone the meaning behind them.

after all, there’s no need to brag about every good deed.

that’d just be narcissistic.

BIOGRAPHY

i. nam seojun is doomed the minute he’s born.

he grows up in cheongdam with no understanding of anything but what’s been handed to him. independence is foreign to him, as are things as simple as decision making and judgement. everything his mother says is law, and he knows better than to defy her, though it’s no concern to him – following her rules is the least he can do after all his parents have done for him.

he owes them the loyalty. because they’ve truly done everything.

ii. he begins rebelling at a young age and manages to land himself in the headmaster’s office in the crossfires of a war of offers and threats. and though he should be worried about an impending punishment, all he can focus on is how noisy everyone is.

“just exactly what are you implying? my son wouldn’t hit anyone. what do you think these lies will achieve? i refuse to listen to these baseless accusations.” his mother’s sharp voice is booming and echoes from one wall to another before she turns toward him, eyes instantly softening as they find her son. “did you hit this boy, seojun?”

“um, i did, bu–”

“no.” she slams her hands on the table so loudly that everyone jumps. “they told you what to say, didn’t they? i don’t believe this.” her hands grip his shoulders as she stares him down, hold almost too firm for a boy of his stature. “listen to me. don’t listen to anyone else, you’re better than them and they’re not worth paying any mind to, okay? don’t listen to them. because it is never your fault – remember that.”

“okay.”

“seojun, you have to promise me that you will remember that.”

he glances at the other faces in the room and sees the bewilderment and disbelief in their faces for a reason he doesn’t quite comprehend. is it the promise? is it something she said? it all seems normal to him.

“okay. i promise, mom.”

“good.”

after that, they leave the school and everyone in the dust, but he takes the lesson to heart.

iii. he goes into high school with a skewed sense of morality and self worth. he’s consumed by a boredom that he subdues with a girl that’s tolerable and allows himself to succumb to his lust and petty teen angst that manifests itself in a way that’s different than most. instead of the volatile shift between rage or vexation, he feels a rather permanent sense of ennui and monotony.

is life always this boring? he really hopes not.

everyone tells him that it’ll pass, that feelings like this are transient and merely waiting will bring new tides. but as time goes by, nothing changes. he’s still stuck in a rut, losing focus on all other than his apathy.

who knew that nothing could be so distracting?

it isn’t until he hears the whispers in the hallways of some entertainment company looking for trainees that he figures it’s worth a shot to do something new. being a celebrity sounds okay. or at the very least, it might make a nice hobby.

“girls or boys?”

he can’t quite recall if he’s ever spoken to them before, but their look on their face gives him an answer. they freeze, falling silent in what appears to be a mix of shock and confusion before shaking their head.

“h-hi seojun. uh, it’s boys. are you thinking of auditioning?”

“maybe. depends on how i feel.”

“you should! apparently they’re doing something different from normal concepts and it’s going to be so cool… i think.” they shuffle on their feet as they avoid his gaze, staring at the ground with such an intensity that it almost seemed as if they can’t lift their neck. “i didn’t realize you sang, though.”

“i don’t.”

and with that, he sets off to an open casting call with no real idea of what he’s actually going to do to impress them and whether or not he actually had the capability of doing anything but wasting everyone’s time. he settles on taking a poem written for class, dreaming up a melody on the way with no real care if it’s lyrically strong or not.

surprisingly enough, he’s not terrible. the song itself needs work, but for something conceptualized in five minutes, it was alright. he gets called back again and again and again for the same process until they finally offer him a spot a couple months later.

it’s the first step toward the future he’s entitled to, the glory of fame and prestige of being adored by thousands.

all it takes is signing on a dotted line and ten years of his time.

word gets around that he’s a trainee at midas music and his popularity skyrockets, words of praise falling upon him as heavily as cherry blossoms falling from trees in april. and honestly, he doesn’t really get it. even though his classmates seem to think otherwise, it’s not particularly interesting.

but at least it’s something to focus on.

iv. “i’m sorry, but you know i’m not allowed to date right now. we’re debuting soon, so–”

“i know that’s just an excuse and that you’re not actually sorry.” she’s right. “seojun, for once, please just be honest with me – can you ever love anyone but yourself?”

“no.”

“can you even like anyone but yourself?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but quickly snaps it shut when the words threaten to slip off his tongue without a forethought.

how do you tell someone you don’t love them? that’s easy. love is fleeting, comes and goes like the turning of the seasons without even a warning. how do you tell someone you never even liked them? that’s harder. it means you’re admitting that you never cared–that you’re not capable to–and that’s not something he ever wants to do.

normally he doesn’t care if he hurts people. but he really doesn’t want to hurt her. she’s okay. and okay is more than anyone else.

“well… you were almost there.”

“hah. it’s unbelievable that you can say as if it’s normal. most people don’t almost like their girlfriend after two years.” her eyes well up with tears, and he feels nothing in return. he thinks of guilt, but all he gets is indifference. “you need to get help because there’s something wrong with you. i mean, what happened to you to end up like this?”

“it’s kind of just how i am. i can’t do anything about that.” he attempts a shrug, but his shoulders barely move. “i’m sorry.”

he still doesn’t mean it.

but truthfully, he’s not actually sure when it began or whether it’s always been ingrained in him.

and even months later, he can’t get her words out of his head. night after night, he tries his best to dig into the deepest nooks of his brain in desperation. he picks apart memories as if he’s missed something when he replayed the scenarios in his mind, but nothing shows a means of quelling the itch his curiosity causes in the pit of his stomach.

all he wants are answers. he doesn’t want a solution. he doesn’t want to experience the sensation of the void in his chest finally being filled by an outpouring of affection for someone else. he doesn’t want to feel anything.

so he tells himself that he doesn’t need to feel whole. because in the end, he loves himself. and to him, that’s all that matters.

v. over the years, olympus has morphed into his own personal version of hell.

he hates the fans because they’re too loud and don’t allow him any privacy. he hates the music because all of the songs are lifeless and jejune and pale in comparison to his own compositions. and most of all, he hates the other members because they’re vapid and inadequate and are in no way worthy enough to be in the same group as him.

but with his increasing discontentment, he’s grown careless. people are starting to catch on, and it’s only continuing to fuel the flames of rumors regardless of whether they’re true or simply slander.

most attribute his darker change of personality to stress and overwork, a repercussion of the contract he’s bound by, but others criticize. they reevaluate his past, digging into history as if there’s a reward other than personal satisfaction, try to prove that he’s not who everyone seems to think he is by whatever means.

he’s told he’s a pr nightmare by the company, but he pays their comments no mind. he’s too headstrong and stubborn to let insolent distractions disturb his focus. but really, he just doesn’t want to fade into nothingness like others have before him. the idea of burning out and being left with nothing but cold darkness almost… scares him.

so even though the terrain is rough, he continues along the path of success. because no matter what anyone says, he deserves it.

[613526362]

I think He's changing 5 years to 2. I really think so.

.....and they frequently climb these trails to harken back to a time before they created the technologies that move them from place to place so smoothly and rapidly. While the European and Asian peoples of the world find pleasure in small doses of “camping” and other simulated hardships, they do not want to actually experience these hardships with any duration - or even be exposed to the people who do. Indeed, doctors and missionaries who travel to the Black areas of the world do so for very short periods of time, likely to clear their conscience of what they know as the truth - that massive poverty and disease define these places, and their European and Asian governments and businesses do nothing to help, when they could easily rectify these issues with even a small percent of their budgets. While some who have made this realization make short and meaningless trips to Black societies, most need not, as overwhelming ignorance of this global disparity exists in the rich societies. Media coverage of Black areas of the world is nearly nonexistent, except for coverage of the occasional change in government or violent uprising. This skewed selection of topics creates a biased impression of Black nations as places of corruption, violence, and instability, thus further terrifying Western and Asian populations of not just Black places - but also Black peoples. Mostly though, people in the rich areas are completely unexposed, completely ignorant. They live their lives with increasingly powerful social networks that allow them to more efficiently exclude peoples for whom they have any distaste or unfamiliarity. If a rare individual possesses compassion or desire to reach out and make positive change in the world, they focus instead on local “poor” populations, despite the fact that these populations have better access to nutrition, medical care, and infrastructure than the people of the Black nations of the world. These distractions and social mechanisms of ignorance create the truth that defines their modern world - white people are entitled to more because of where white people are born, and Black people are entitled to less because of where Black people are born. Considering the strength of the borders that Western and Asian nations have constructed, it is unlikely this dynamic will change - ever. These borders form a strong, varied, and complex network of blockades that can only be described as impenetrable. Just to consider one variant of such borders, a white American can donate $100 to a fund for local childhood obesity or suicide prevention or cocaine addiction (all diseases of excess unique to rich nations) with a few clicks on their internet, but to take a $100 water purifier to Equatorial Guinea in Africa, the flight alone costs $1,700. The overall cost for the trip to deliver this $100 water filter would likely exceed $10,000 after considering lost wages, documentation costs, hotel, rental car, translator, pre-travel vaccinations, prophylactic medication, food, hygiene supplies, trip insurance, and the myriad other costs associated with traveling to Africa. Some have posited that models of other social constructs could be replicated to have an impact in the Black nations of the world. An exclusive organization called Teach for America in the United States promised status, elite connections, and career success to young graduates of its nation’s best universities if they spent two years teaching in low-income communities. Nonetheless, the organization has faded in popularity amongst such young academics, as the bad experiences of those who join has gradually crept out and forewarned others from joining. Also, the overall impact of the organization is questionable, probably because the training and commitment level of these young people is weak at best. Indeed, making a huge difference for children with little training while receiving career success as a reward after only two years, is, well, a story far too good to be true. Possibly the most promising model for potential modification and replication is the model of the U.S. military. In America - a society where violence and weapons are idolized and worshipped by many - young people are gradually exposed to glorified murder in video games, movies, and music. The American military takes advantage of this obsession with violence by portraying its military as a more “honorable” form of violence. Military violence is portrayed as a just, upright self sacrifice that can be difficult - but always improves the world. While killing people within America is seen as a terrible and punishable act, killing Black and Arab people outside America is not only acceptable - it is a sport. Indeed, young Americans practice and practice this sport, through computer simulation and on gun ranges, training their high powered rifles on the silhouettes of targets drawn to resemble the stereotypical body habitus of Arabs or Africans. Unfortunately, this psychological sanitization of murder often misfires, with the occasional American turning on their own countrymen and committing mass murder. The massive success of this model in attracting young Americans and placing them into a life defined by the military should not be overlooked. Could such a model be used to attract young Americans to overseas charitable service? Could providing needed medical care or building roads be made as cool as shooting Muslims or blowing up roads to an American child? If so, the amount of time, funding, and effort necessary to build this model would be sizeable. As a final note, while extremely difficult to locate and study, the few individuals from Western and Asian nations today who make real commitments to develop and aid the Black nations are curious individuals indeed. Usually they come from unstable upbringings, oftentimes suffering from trauma as children that shaped their unique worldview. They oftentimes suffer from mental illness or personality disorders, although it is difficult to determine whether these cognitive disabilities are a result of their personal background or the work they begin early in life, made so difficult by the boundaries their nations have constructed. These few individuals usually suffer financial ruin, and almost always, die prematurely. Christmas: I’ve never been this close to doing it before. It was real bad a few days ago. I had a plan and everything. I was crying a lot. I woke up the following morning and, I just said to myself, “It’s okay James. If you can’t pay a credit card bill, that doesn’t mean you need to put a bullet in your head.” It’s just a combination of things that is more overwhelming than what I’ve faced before. It’s getting my licensing exam score back and seeing that I did much, much, much worse than the diagnostic exams said I was going to do. It’s being completely broke, closer to bankruptcy than ever before. It’s being completely alone, and seeing no one but the students I teach on a weekly basis, even though I don’t really talk to them much. Today is Christmas. I got a card from my dad. It said, “I hope you get some time to rest this Christmas.” He found out yesterday he’s losing his job. I should call him now and stop writing this. I’m sitting in my car outside the ER. I don’t work there much anymore, but I scheduled myself to work Christmas night. It looks very busy. I just called my dad. He didn’t pick up. I called my mom earlier. She must have heard something in my voice. She said, “I hope you’re taking good care of yourself.” I need to go inside now. God, I know you’re up there. And I know you love us. I know you love me. Please help me, please help me with this depression I’m in. I know there are a lot of people who need help more than me. I passed them out in the street when I drove to work tonight. Please help them too. But if you have any help left over when you’re done helping them, please help me with this feeling inside that makes me want to but a bullet through my head. I won’t make it far into 2018 with this feeling God. Please help me. New Year’s Day: Today is the first day of 2018. I worked in the ER last night. The main thing I remember is how this man was begging for a second sandwich bag. Normally we don’t give it to them. I was doing something with the patient, and someone brought him a second bag. I was just astonished at how he ate the sandwich. They are the most disgusting looking sandwiches to me. None of our staff would ever eat them. We just throw the food to them like dog food to dogs. And he furiously opened it up and bit into it in a way I haven’t seen someone eat in a while. He was starving. Earlier in the night I had this woman I was taking to CT. She had been badly beaten with a metal pole about the face and upper body. When I was pushing her stretcher over to the CT scanner, we briefly passed a window and she caught a glimmer of her reflection. She ordered me to go back so she could see her face. When I said no, she started to climb over the rail and get out of bed. Finally, I gave in. I pushed the bed back so she could look at her reflection. She started crying and touching her face, “Oh my god. What have they done to me. Oh my god my face.” I said, “It will heal. It will heal with time.” Today is the first day of 2018. I have a weird feeling that I won’t make it through this year without shooting myself. I applied for two online loans earlier and got denied for both. My debt is so high, I’m paying thousands each month just in debt payments. I think bankruptcy might be my only choice now. My dad thinks I’m coming to see him in February to go hunting and celebrate my great score on the licensing exam. Little does he know I’m coming to tell him that I won’t be doing emergency medicine or surgery, that I have no choice but to file bankruptcy, that he should transfer the deed for the small plot of land he gave me to my brother, and that I won’t be seeing him for a long time. He just lost his job. He now has terminal cancer and heart disease, and lives with a third wife who oppresses him. Thankfully his oldest son has married, had kids, and built a house. He has that. The depression from the financial situation is almost worse than the situation itself. I don’t see any way for me to make my last med school tuition payment this month. I’m a thousand dollars short now, but considering the bills I have coming up in the coming days, I’m actually going to be shorter when the time comes. I want to go so bad. I want to just relieve all this pain so bad. I was on this dating app just to find someone to talk to. I had this one girl I would talk to. As soon as, no, I can’t even discuss it. I’m disgusted. I have no one. This is the first day of 2018. If I had a gun I would have done it already. I know God is up there. But I spent $15,000 to do a medical relief trip to the Caribbean that barely helped anyone. Did Jesus kill himself? Or did this world kill him. Or are they one in the same? I’m going to tell my father that everyone decision to help someone else is a bad decision personally. I’m going to tell my dad, that, when I was 18, and I told him that the undergrad and masters or masters and professional degree that I would get would cost a quarter of a million dollars, and he told me I was wrong and that was ridiculous. He was wrong. And I have the receipts to prove it. The people will recover from losing me. My dad won’t. But it will be just as painful for him to watch me do all the things he doesn’t want me to do while alive. 2018 is my last chance to live. And it won’t take a year. 2018 will determine my life - or death - in the next three months. My prayer is simple, “Let me die God. Please God, this place is too sick. It is a nation of people trying to trick other people. I myself am trying to trick people with my own business schemes, but I must to survive because I have been tricked to the point of death. Let me die, so that I may escape this hell. I do not deserve relief of this pain, I know. But if there is any chance of heaven or just an end to one creature’s pain, it is worth the risk I pursue in taking my own life. Please God of all things, please let things work out that I may kill myself three months from now and suffer no more pain.” — January 19 Unspeakable Why How could He Is this really true? I had a gun to my head There was no hope in sight And now I’m given $32,000 Just like that Boom I still don’t believe it And even though it’s true I feel like I’m too foolish to not lose it all I’ve told myself less than 20% can be used for discretionary The rest of it must go to tuition and debt relief I don’t know what else to say This doesn’t seem real I haven’t felt so safe inside in so long 2017 was hell I literally, killed a piece of myself To help others Going to the island to help like that Spending so much money I didn’t have I almost died Nothing can hurt me physically I am safest in the sea But money. Money almost blew my brains out. And now this. It still doesn’t seem real. I still don’t know how to feel. For the first time in so long, I taught a class, and I just seemed happy to my students. They way they picked up on it and reacted was amazing. We all laughed together. We laughed so much. I praise you Father. I saw no end in sight. I was living to die. Father the wounds are still fresh. And the changes that have taken place in my mind cause me fear. I am not proud of how my dance with death has affected me. I am not proud of how my willful poverty made me tear my flesh from my bones. Yet you, You smiled upon me. You had mercy. In whatever dose I may, I will also show your mercy to the world. You love the people of Africa. May I show your love to them. Lord, I must tell you. If this doesn’t work out, I don’t hold it against you. If this is really a mirage, and all this money disappears, it’s okay. I never expected you to save me like this. I still don’t trust it to be true. I can’t. My mind has accepted death now. My life I had given away. Now, you take it back. And you do with it what you wish father. Take my life and do as you wish Father. Because I love you.