#i can barely tell apart pre-50s cars

[brick-enthusiast]

Renault Nervasport

[magicalqueennightmare]

Sins & Amends Chapter 50

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Misunderstanding be damned. You and Billy have a heart to heart, you reveal something you've hid and maybe there's a chance to work towards a new start

One thing you'd loved about Curtis from the first time you met him. The man didn't ask questions if a friend told him they needed something. 

He showed up at your place and when you opened the door he handed you the keys to his car then proceeded to grab a drink out your fridge and sit on the couch "I'll be here however long you need me to stay with her Y/N. Go take care of whatever you have to" 

You leaned over the back of the couch and hugged him around the shoulders "You're one in a million Curt" he laughed and said "Can i get that in writing?" You grabbed your jacket and slipped it on before replying "Hell I'll even get Foggy to notarize it" "Be careful" he called as you headed out the door.

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You hadn't exactly planned what you were going to say to him as you parked in front of Billy's building. A sick thought occurred of the possibility of him having someone in his place with him but you pushed it off your mind. 

You had to know what was going on with him even if it was just to make sure it wouldn't mess up his schedule seeing Adi because normally that would've been his first stop.

You locked Curtis's car and slid the keys into pocket. You kept an eye on your surroundings until you got in the building then headed for the elevator.

--------------

When you finally got to the third floor you found your steps slowing the closer you got to his door and realized you were nervous. Every fear you'd ever had about Billy was popping up in your head. From him having someone in there all the way to him deciding family life wasn't for him. No he loved Adi. That much you'd bet everything on.

----------------

You stopped in front of his door and took a deep breath before knocking. You heard his muffled voice from the other side say something along the lines of "Hold on" before the door was swinging open to show Billy dressed in a dark blue t-shirt and black jeans. He'd taken his jacket off since you'd saw him but it was apparent he'd been wide awake.

His dark eyes scanned your face for a long moment worry showing plainly in them "Y/N? Are you ok? Is Adi ok?" You finally nodded after a moment spent just staring into his eyes "I'm fine and she's ok but I need to talk to you"

You saw him take a deep breath like he was bracing himself for something before he stepped back and motioned you inside "Come on in"

-----------------

You stood just inside Billy's door and let your eyes flicker around his apartment. You'd been there a couple times but it was such a contrast to how his last place had been it startled a part of you still. 

The only decoration in the place was a few pictures of Adi scattered around the room. 

Everything else was so blatantly bare it hurt some part of you to see. You finally turned to face him and realized he'd been staring at you so you decided to jump in head first "Billy you've acted weird towards me since Christmas. Now I don't know what I did but please tell me. At least for Adi's sake cause I don't know a lot about the whole co parenting thing but I know everything is easier when two people are on the same page"

"It's you and Matt" he finally said after a moment and you took a tentative step towards him before you found the words to ask "What about me and Matt?" 

------------

Billy couldn't look you in the eye as the memories flooded his head. Of all the things he'd worked to get back a large part of him wished those memories had been among the ones Frank had knocked permanently out of his head.

He could see you that night in Josie's. He'd found out about you seeing Matt from some mutual friends. He couldn't quite remember who but he'd seen you around with him and couldn't help but show up at the bar once he discovered Matt and Foggy frequented it.

He'd sat in the corner knowing how to lose himself in a crowd and waited. It wasn't long before he'd heard your voice. He followed the sound to see you sitting in a corner booth with Matt, Alice and Kenzie.

For longer than he'd ever care to admit he'd watched you and Matt. You were beautiful. The black jeans you wore hugged your body perfectly and the red top showed just enough cleavage to be sexy but not too showy. Matt was attentive to you. Never turning away when he spoke and leaning closer when the noise in the bar started to grow. 

He watched as you had leaned your head over on Matt's arm much like you had tonight. He had broken the beer bottle in his hand when you tilted Matt's face towards yours and left a lingering kiss on his lips. 

You had looked happy until you saw him then your whole demeanour had changed. You whispered something to Matt then when he'd purposely stepped in your path when the two of you started to leave. You'd grabbed Matt's arm and walked out, he hadn't even wanted to imagine what you'd done when you'd left the bar.

------------

The longer Billy remained quiet the more worried you got. When he started rubbing his hand roughly across his head, tugging slightly at the longer locks that'd grown out since he'd been out you knew you had to do something to break him out his own mind so you stepped closer to him and gently put your hands on both sides of his face. "Billy?" 

He blinked a few times before his eyes finally focused on yours. You smiled when you saw that he was actually looking at you "Talk to me. What is bothering you about me and Matt?" 

He closed his eyes and took a few slow breaths before he finally covered your hands with his own holding them to his face "I remember you being with him. I remember the two of you as a couple after I broke up with you. Every time I've been around you and him together it digs it in a little deeper. He's a good guy Y/N. A better guy than me"

"Billy open your eyes" when he did as you asked you pulled your hand free from his face but before his face could fall from the perceived rejection you grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your pulse point on your neck "My heart beat speeds up when I lie..no matter how hard I try for it not to so I want you to feel as I say this. I was with Matt yes. He treated me damn good and me and him are still close friends and hopefully will remain friends because by now I couldn't imagine my life without him in it but I do not want to be with him like that. Nothing with him ever came anywhere near you. When I think of my future these days I think about Adi and you"

----------------

His dark eyes never left yours as you spoke and you felt his hand shift to be cupping the side of your face instead of holding your neck "Do you mean that?" He asked in a low voice that made your stomach flip "Yes Billy I mean it"

Without thinking you surged forward catching his lips in a quick kiss. He looked as stunned as you felt when you pulled back. You studied each other for a moment before he was suddenly kissing you like he was trying to make up for the years you'd been apart.

Every part of your body felt like it was on fire as Billy advanced on you and you backed up until your back hit a wall never daring to pull your lips from his in fear of breaking the moment. His kiss had always been intoxicating and after this long you felt like an alcoholic that had allowed themselves a drink of the finest whiskey.

His hands smoothed down your sides pulling light noises from your lips as you moved your hands to his shoulders trying to pull him even closer. He let his hands move lower to grip your hips tightly which caused a gasp of surprise to leave you.

---------------

As suddenly as it had started it was over. Billy drew back from you and backed away like you were on fire. Your chest was heaving from his actions moments before but you were hurt. Did you do something wrong? Or did he really just not want you like that any more?

"I can't do this. Not now" he muttered and it felt like a slap in the face when it occurred to you he meant kissing you. "Why can't you kiss me Billy?" You asked, feeling very defensive until he spun around and the emotions in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat 

"Because I don't want to just kiss you. I want nothing more than to show you how much I've missed your touch, your taste..those sounds you make when you're under me and coming undone. But I can't. I love you and our daughter with everything I have but I'm not fucking up this second chance. I need to be the man you both deserve and being with you like that now wouldn't be right"

You threw up your hands in a mixture of frustration and pure embarrassment from initiating the kiss to start "Why does everyone else think they know what I deserve or not?" He stepped back closer to you and cupped your cheek once more "Sweetheart it's because of how much I love you that I want to do this right by waiting"

You froze staring into his eyes and knew he'd meant every word. It took you a second before you were able to say "I don't mind waiting" he smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. 

You closed your eyes when you felt his lips on your skin and grabbed his arm before he could step away "My couch is pretty comfortable so why don't you come over? Adi would love to wake up to daddy after a week without seeing you" he searched your face for any uncertainty about him staying at your place and when he didn't find any nodded "Let me grab some clothes"

The ride back to your place was in silence. You glanced at Billy whenever you got to a stop light and he'd simply smile at you. A part of you was worried what Curtis may say about Billy coming home with you as you parked in front of your building and both of you headed inside.

-----------------

When you walked into the door of your apartment Curtis glanced up from the tv and simply hitched an eyebrow when he saw Billy walk in the door behind you. "She's sleeping soundly mama" he said with a smile as he stood up and walked towards you.

You leaned up to hug him "Thanks Curt" he nodded when he pulled away and said "Anytime Y/N. Have a goodnight" then glanced at Billy and added "You too" and patted his shoulder on the way out too.

After Curtis walked out you realized you and Billy were still standing in the entryway of your apartment so you motioned to the couch "I'm gonna grab a quick shower then I'll get you a pillow and blanket. If you want we can watch a movie or something?" He nodded and said "Sounds good. Mind if I grab a shower after you?" "Yeah no problem. I'll be quick"

------------------

You went back and forth on what to wear to bed then finally just decided on your usual bed clothes consisting of an oversized shirt and some sleep shorts. Wasn't like Billy hadn't seen you in a lot less.

You grabbed the extra pillow off your bed and stepped into the closet to grab one of your spare blankets then walked back into the living room.

Billy was sitting on the edge of the couch and glanced up when you walked out. You walked over in front of him and held out the pillow and blanket "I'm gonna check on Adi while you're in the shower" he nodded and sat the pillow and blanket down next to him and said "I'll be quick" then stood to head to your bathroom.

----------------

When Billy got out the shower you were sitting in the recliner scrolling through the lists of movies you could watch. You were used to watching Disney ninety percent of the time so it felt weird to be looking at anything else. "So what you pick?" He asked and you glanced up to see him standing in the doorway in a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. 

"Um thinking a western?" He nodded and dropped his dirty clothes into his overnight bag "Sounds good to me" he sat on the couch and his eyes flicked towards you a few times before he motioned next to him "Wanna sit over here with me?" 

You tried to ignore your heart beating in your throat when you stood and walked across to sit next to him. You were being ridiculous. This was Billy, the father of your child. You'd known him for so long it was hard to remember a time before him yet you felt like a teenager left alone with her boyfriend for the first time.

He stretched his arm over the couch behind you then leaned over and whispered in your ear "If you don't relax a little I'm gonna start feeling unwanted here" you smiled then let yourself sink back into the cushion and pulled your feet up under you. After it was clear you were comfortable he grabbed the remote and clicked play.

------------------

As you were watching the movie you felt your eyelids getting heavy but fought it. The longer you stayed up the longer you got to be around him without any pretenses having to be put forth but when your head dipped one time and you woke up a little while later with your head back against his shoulder you realized the fight was useless. You were fucking exhausted and needed to go to bed.

------------

When your head started dipping Billy tried to keep the smile off his face. He'd seen you try to stay awake past exhaustion more than once and knew what it looked like. When your head dipped the last time and he felt a pressure against his shoulder he smiled when he glanced down and saw you were leaning against him.

God it felt like heaven with you so close to him but he knew it was only temporary. You'd have to go to bed eventually then come morning you'd go to work and so would he and the moment would be over. Hell he didn't even know if you'd still feel the same way when morning found you.

When you sat up and stretched with a yawn he smiled when you said "Sorry Billy. I gotta head to bed" you stood up and was almost to your room when he said "Goodnight Y/N. I love you"

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You froze with your hand on your door. You didn't know what to say. Hours before Billy had just told you he wanted to wait to try to be together again but now he was saying he loved you?

You didn't try to face him. You knew you couldn't look into his eyes and not say you loved him, not say you wanted to be with him so you simply said "If you need anything knock" and walked into your room shutting the door behind you.

Billy was asleep when he heard a scream and jumped straight up off the couch. Before his feet hit the floor good he was moving towards your room. He'd know your voice through any fog of sleep. You sounded in pain. 

He'd just touched the handle to open it when it opened to show you. Your eyes were wide with still unshed tears and he saw streaks of them down your cheeks. Your hands were shaking when you nearly collapsed against his chest, heavy sobs wracking your body.

He held you tight trying to comfort you enough you would be able to tell him what was wrong. "Sweetheart, talk to me. I'll do my best to fix whatever it is" you finally pulled away from him a bit and he felt his heart break at seeing you so upset "Rawlins had Adi. He hurt her Billy. I have to check on her" 

He had to force the knot in his throat back down to his stomach. Of course his sins were still haunting you "Rawlins is dead. I promise you. Adi is ok. She's safe" you shook your head, eyes still wide "No i have to check on her Billy. I have to make sure that she's safe. I have to" 

He nodded and said "Ok love. I'll go with you to check on her. I'll even double check the window" he started to step back so you could lead the way but your hand shot out and grabbed his arm "Please stay close to me. I don't want to be alone right now" he slid his arm around your shoulders without a word.

---------------

He could feel his jaw tensing as he stood watching you check Adi twice over then you moved to insure her wardrobe was in front of the window which was locked up tight. He hated seeing you like this. He hated not being able to fix it. He'd do anything for you and Adi but he couldn't kill someone who was already dead. 

He didn't want to disturb you but after a moment you reached back for his hand and pulled him up next to you. He ran a hand across your lower back and said "See? She's safe" 

Your voice was barely a whisper when you said "He hurt her Billy. It felt so real" he pulled you against his chest hoping to give you some sort of comfort "I'm so sorry" he hoped you knew he meant that for so much more than a nightmare.

You laid your head over on his chest so he wrapped you in a hug before you said "Thank you for being here. I haven't told anyone else about the dreams besides Alice and Karen. Alice only knows because I had a few at work before during a long shift. Karen because I've been sharing a bed with her and had one. They've happened since I was pregnant"

He closed his eyes against the flood of emotion that came along with knowing how long you'd been dealing with the horrors alone. "Y/N I promise you I will die before I let anyone lay a finger on you or her" you sniffled against his chest and nodded "I know you would Billy" 

You felt horrible to even ask but you knew normally after a nightmare you didn't see a lot of sleep so before you could stop your mouth the words had already escaped "Billy would you mind laying down with me? I don't want anything but for you to hold me. If I know you're there I'll know she's safe"

You wanted to take it back in fear but he just leaned down to gently touch Adi's back then grabbed your hand "Of course sweetheart"

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You walked into your bedroom with Billy following you. Your nerves were still very much on edge and every noise made you jump. "Which side?" He asked and you pointed to your side of the bed so he went around and sat on the other side then looked back at you "Do you want me to hold you or do you want to lay on my chest like you always liked to do?" 

You swallowed twice before saying "chest" he climbed under the blanket then held it up "C'mon" you slowly climbed into the bed and scooted over until you were almost next to him "Are you sure? I mean I know we aren't back together I just I want you close after that. I still feel safe with you"

He reached out and pulled you onto his chest "It's fine. I'm glad to be here" you took a few seconds to get comfortable then glanced up to see he was watching you with that patent Russo smirk "Good now?" You nodded "I'm much better. Thanks for doing this"

He raised an eyebrow and his smirk deepened into a grin "No thanks needed for holding the woman I love when she needs me" you rolled your eyes then said "I mean it Billy. You said you weren't ready and this is more intimate than any amount of kissing" he leaned down and left a gentle kiss on your temple "You're welcome sweetheart. I would do anything for you and our babygirl"

"Is there anyway I can help you?" You asked letting your fingers lazily draw circles on his clothed chest "You already are. You let me in our daughter's life and back into yours. These last few weeks I hated pulling away from you but I had to know if you wanted Matt because I meant it when I said you only deserve the best yet you still want me. When you came to my place tonight, that meant more than anything. Even after everything. Even though we're not quite sure what the future holds you want me here comforting you. I never dreamed of getting this again"

You cut your eyes up at him "I want us to have another chance Billy" he brushed your hair back from your face before saying "I do too but we have to get there first. I know how much Frank means to you and I won't make you pick between us. I need to prove to him that I've changed. You and Adi..everything should be perfect for you two"

"What if it's not?" You asked lowering your eyes but he raised your chin up with one finger and smiled "When I have you and her? How could it not be perfect?"

He held your chin while he placed a gentle kiss to your lips. When he pulled away he said "Just know I love you. I have for years and I always will. You have always been the best thing in my life and now we have a perfect little girl. I wouldn't want a future without some hope for us. As for tonight lay your head down and get some sleep. You and her are safe"

You laid your head down on his chest and let the steady beat of his heart lull you to sleep.

Billy woke up a little while before you and started to pinch himself to make sure he was in fact not dreaming. You were really here cuddled up to him. 

Your hand twitching against his chest was the first sign you were waking up. When your eyelids fluttered open you looked up at him with a sleepy smile and let one finger trace the scar on the cheek that was closest to you "Good morning. Did you sleep good?" He nodded "How about you? No more bad dreams?" 

The way he felt when you smiled sweetly and said "Not a one" would've been enough to make him joke at his own expense at one time but now he relished the feeling.

Before anything else could be said he heard a noise that sounded very much like your front door opening and heard you curse yourself for forgetting the chain lock.

He was out the bed and to the door before you. He glanced back "Stay here just for a second please?" You nodded so he stepped out the room.

-----------

You were about to go out behind Billy when you heard Frank's voice even though it was lower than usual "What the fuck are you doing here?"

You quickly stepped out of the room to find the two of them staring each other down in your kitchen. Frank was clearly on the offense while Billy was just trying to gauge whether or not he was about to be forced to duck a punch.

You moved across the floor to be effectively between the two of them "Frank please calm down. This isn't what it looks like" "Oh sweetheart I am calm for the simple fact that I know Adi is asleep but are you really gonna try to tell me you and Bill both didn't just come out of your bedroom?"

"We slept as in actual sleep. That was it Frank" you kept your voice low but steady. "Yeah Bullshit. Tell someone else that" he nearly growled but you didn't shy away from him. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

He looked between you and Billy "It means the last time he was in your bed as far as I know anyways you had Adi or do you not remember crying to me because you didn't want to be alone when you found out you were pregnant?" you flinched at his tone and the memory.

Billy didn't want to get into it with Frank but he had to speak on your behalf "Frank you're overreacting man" Frank glared at him as he said "Funny I don't remember even talking to your ass?"

He turned back to you "Y/N i fucking love you and that little girl in there but are you forgetting the hell he's put all of us through? Hell you don't even trust him to go on a mission with me and Curt and not fuck Madani why would you want him in your bed?" You felt Billy freeze and glanced over to see he wasn't even looking at Frank but was staring at you "Yeah didn't think she'd told ya that Bill. She don't trust you either"

Billy felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Was that why you came to his place? You thought he'd been screwing Dinah? Hell the two of them didn't speak to each other outside of work or her asking about you and Adi. How fucked up was he that he couldn't show you that he only wanted to be with someone if that someone was you

"Y/N?" Billy asked Frank temporarily forgotten. You nodded "You threw it in my face that you were fucking her at one time Billy then you started acting weird" he shook his head "I never felt about her or any woman for that matter how I feel about you" he wanted to pull you into his arms but he knew when to leave well enough alone.

You wiped the hot angry tears from your face as you looked between them both. Fuck it hurt just looking at them. The two men that had always meant the most to you and they could barely be in a room when you were concerned.

"Frank he didn't pull the trigger. His crime in Maria and the kids dying is the fact that he should've let Rawlins kill me. Now me and Karen have talked about this and I know she's talked to you. You've seen how he's changed. He loves Adi. He's trying to be there for you and Curt again. Hell Sarah has even told us how he protected her and Zach when shit went down. I shouldn't be asked to pick between the men I love because one was a fucking idiot and should've let me die multiple times over"

You felt your hands shake and saw both Frank and Billy's faces fall when they both reached for you but you stepped away "No. I'm sick of this shit. I have been being pulled in two damn directions for too long. Frank you and Curt knew about his deal before I ever did so it could've been squashed long before I knew. Billy, whatever guilt you carry voice it now. This is coming to a head before Adi wakes up or I swear I will kick you both out"

They stared at each other for a long moment before Frank said "I want to hate you and I hate that I don't want you dead anymore" "Why?" Billy asked and Frank pointed to Adi's room "She lights up when she sees you. Y/N has been beating herself up for having feelings for you since she found out she was pregnant. I can't hurt them and you dying would. See, Adi is your daughter but I was there supporting Y/N when she had her. Not only that but Y/N has waded into shit neck deep for me. I ain't gonna lie I can see you've changed but I can't let myself not hate you. Not yet"

Billy nodded then said "I get it Frankie but there's nothing I can do to make it up to you" "Y/N and Adi are the only thing I have left of Maria and my kids. If you two didn't have sex why were you in her bed? I'm not standing by for you to use her"

You held up a hand and when Frank looked your way you sniffled before saying "I invited him to sleep on the couch so he could spend a little time with Adi. I woke him up when I had a nightmare about Rawlins hurting her. He comforted me and made sure I knew he'd keep her safe and I slept for longer than a few hours at a time for the first night in years. These nightmares haunt me because I know I shouldn't have this life. Frank I want for me and Billy to eventually have another real chance but I can't lose you"

Frank finally broke and pulled you into his arms shushing you quietly "You're not losing me. It'll take time but you're not losing me"  Billy stepped forward and when Frank looked up he said "Frankie no lines were crossed because I know I don't deserve her and Adi. She should put me through the wringer for another chance. I love her and Adi more than life itself. I want to be a brother to you and Curt again one day but I swear to you if I fuck up this chance I'll load the gun and hand it to you. Their happiness means more than my life"

Frank held out a hand and when Billy shook it he said "I'm holding you to that"

You laughed against Frank's chest and when they both looked at you like you'd grown a second head you shook your head "Why does everything with you two have to have some alpha male bullshit agreement?" Frank kissed your forehead with a chuckle and said "Let's talk about it over coffee"

You heard Adi call you from her room and a small smile found Billy's face "Can I?" You nodded so he headed for her room.

----------------

Frank watched him go then said "He is doing better and he does love her. I'll give him both of them cause he has my back in the field even though I've told him I don't think I'll ever fully trust him again"

"Frank I want a future with him but only if I can have you too. I've waded into shit neck deep to pull you out because I can't lose you and I just want to know if it's possible to have you both even in the future?" You could barely look at him but he put the coffee down then said "Y/N look at me"

When you did he took a breath then said "Honestly there isn't a lot that would make me walk away from you and Adi. Just take it slow and go in with your eyes open. As long as he treats you two like you're the best things he's ever even came near having a chance of having we won't have any trouble. He needs to keep you and her safe and happy but when you decide to give him another chance just don't hide anything from me please"

Without thinking you pulled him into a hug "I love you Frank" he chuckled and patted your back "Yeah kid I love you too"

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny

[in-tua-deep]

Are you into my hero academia? What about an AU or crossover with tua?

UHHHH I am technically, like, peripherally? I watched some seasons of the show like two or three years ago and since then have simply absorbed all content through osmosis, reading fanfiction that has canon events, and my sister telling me about the arcs of her fav characters lmao

so a crossover hmmm

First of all you'd have to like, establish whether bnha is an alternate universe or just The Future If No Apocalypse with quirks being traced back to the descendants of the kids born without mothers

So let's say it's that - the glowing baby was the "first quirk" but the truth is people had powers before that. But - well, the Umbrella Academy was obviously a marketing gimmick to those in the future! There were even comics based on them

In the future, you might find some of those comics in museum exhibits dedicated to depictions of powers in the pre-quirk era, but they're just fun depictions and much less popular than, oh, DC or MCU comics which are also in the exhibits!

End of s2 doesn't happen I guess in this au?? No sparrow academy at least lmao. So, the Umbrella Academy stop the apocalypse (again) and the Commission threat is? Neutralized? Whatever. They decide to jump back to the future

Five warns them that time travel is a crapshoot, that he has no fucking idea when they'll land beyond some nebulous "future" because Five can at least control the direction if not exactly how long

Also, Five is like. Super tired. Incredibly tired. Homeboy still has a healing gut wound, time traveled twice, has been jumping all over the place, gotten even more injured, experienced paradox psychosis, and managed to undo time all in the space of like, two weeks. There actually more than that but we don't have time to get into how fucking tired Five is from his ~Month of Hell

Like genuinely this is like putting someone almost delirious from lack of sleep in the driver's seat of a car and expecting to get to your destination in one piece

But hey, the siblings are like "do it uwu" and Five has sacrificed everything for them already so why not get behind the wheel again

So Five jumps them, and of course something goes wrong because Five has pushed his powers like a great big rubber band and honestly it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and it snapped back to hit him

So here be the umbrella academy: spilled out into the future like a cup of bad coffee.

Five probably isn't in too good of shape tbh, like they're hundreds of years in the future (but hey at least confirmation of no apocalypse am I right) in a world full of superpowers and Five is like. bleeding from his ears and nose probably idk

Let's handwave a little bit - Reginald made them all polyglots so the squad all speak varying levels of Japanese. Allison is the best at it, Five is second best but tends to use more archaic words bc he had missions in Japan back when he was with the commission, and Klaus is third best.

(Ben is the worst bc he decided when he was 16-and-dead that he didn't have to do anything regarding lessons and maintenance and hasn't given a shit since - but also he's dead so)

So you have a bunch of weird adults with a bleeding child in like, an alley who have appeared from nowhere

so of course heroes get involved

Anyway, the squad get taken in and Five is conscious but like, barely? And he's not going to let himself get separated from his siblings again fuck-you-officer and there is a lot of confusion

anyway detective tsukauchi ends up getting involved and ends up having to hear this batshit story and be like "...truth." which sends all kinds of people scrambling because fucking time travel? Like yeah, it's been theorized to be a possible quirk but there's no recorded cases of any sort of time travel that is for more than 24 hours let alone hundreds of years

"I'm an adult." Five says sourly, "I just happened to be returned to my 13 year old body when I time traveled one time."

"True." Tsukauchi says, feeling his soul leave his body, but like. absently. the way he does when he's called in at 2am after getting off of work at midnight.

"I'm 58." Five says.

"Lie." Tsukauchi says, because this is a headcanon hill I will die on.

"I'm probably 58, but it was hard to keep track. I'm at least 50." Five corrects.

"True." Tsukauchi sighs like these six (seven? they keep referring to another sibling and Klaus said 'ghost' like that was fine and it registered as true and Tsukauchi is not nearly paid enough for this) are not giving him a migraine by just existing

on the bright side there's like, probably protocols in place for individuals who are Legally Chronologically Adults but thanks to quirks are Not Physically Or Not Mentally Adults with tests to determine if the individual needs a guardian or not

though i'm gonna be honest idk if Five would pass the test bc he literally cannot take care of himself at all, has never paid taxes or understands how to exist legally, and also his emotional maturity is stunted as all hell. also like. we don't actually know how much being in his thirteen-year-old body affects his mental state but yeAH Five is vibing

anyway Tsukauchi probably phones a friend on this bullshit because Time Travel Child alone is probably enough for the Hero Commission to be like "find a way to control and use it or nuke it from orbit" and that's not even touching whatever the fuck Klaus is doing (shit gets real once 'dead men tell no tales' stops being true) let ALONE Allison's whole deal

on the bright side like, at least Vanya isn't getting side-eyed that much bc Big Destructive Quirks aren't exactly unknown? if vanya wanted to i guess quirk suppressors exist for that until extensive training on how to control a super powerful quirk happens

Tsukauchi in the group chat: Aizawa please I am literally begging you to take this bullshit on

Aizawa: in this economy? with my class?

RatGod: lol we'll take them ;3c

Aizawa: no

Anyway they probably end up having to live at UA while Five insists on trying to get them home still and everyone else is like "oh hey we used to be child soldiers as well! (:" and Aizawa is like "i hate everything about this and everything about all of you but also like nedzu is making me interact with you so :/"

nedzu is out here vibing like "lol i just don't want the hero commission to get their little paws on these time traveling fuckers, i think you should make then teaching assistants or something"

honestly the siblings are probably like. figuring out how to function in the bnha universe and getting like, legally registered and stuff while Five ferally refuses bc that's like saying he's giving up on getting them home and he can do this

Recovery girl tries to heal him a little when he arrives and he passes out for two weeks like, immediately bc homeboy is running on fumes and spite at this point

also i think on principle it would be REALLY FUNNY if the squad got to tag along with the class bc like. Five is thirteen and the class are all 15. this does not sound like a large age gap. anyone who has interacted with teenagers know that the class would squint at Five and be like "who is this sassy lost middle schooler."

I feel like when I was a sophomore we were still like "freshman... babie" even though we were literally only one year older.

i think the difference between the umbrella academy and school kids would be pretty funny like. objectively the bnha kids are lowkey child soldiers?? like they're 15 and fighting villains but like, there's all this red tape and laws and stuff but,,, deku still be breaking his limbs in a child fighting ring against equally superpowered children for like. entertainment and sponsorships sooo

but also like Five would be like "oh cool when is the experimentation class"

"the what"

"you know, when your powers are pushed real hard by putting you in different terrible situations while your dad and sibling stand by with clipboards writing down the exact voltage it takes before you can't use your powers anymore when being electrocuted"

"hound dog's office is right there. therapy is available to you at any time. i need you to know this."

all might calls Luther "my boy" like one (1) time and Luther just breaks down crying probably because he is starved for positive attention

klaus and midnight get along like a literal house on fire, aizawa tried his best to keep them apart for as long as possible but god damn

(klaus: your name is shimura nana??

all might: immediately dies choking on blood)

i feel it absolutely necessary to point out that aizawa, present mic, and midnight are all like, 30? and the umbrella academy are all between 29-early 30s? they are PEERS but like. the umbrella academy are more chaotic due to childhood trauma

the umbrella academy probably get offered to like. also train to be heroes. i mean,, there HAS to be some sort of track for people who change careers right?? you don't have to cement your future as a hero when you're 15 i'm sure there must be something and the squad already have experience if they want to go be legal heroes

diego probably does at least?? diego just vibes honestly. diego gets momo to make knives during a team exercise and they just go feral on everyone else and it ends with diego highfiving momo and someone getting way to close to being stabbed for comfort

Five might just be. legally enrolled as an Actual Student? But also i think it's funny to picture the entire squad just. all in the back of the classroom with luther trying to fit into a high school desk as they take notes on the laws of The Future surrounding heroics

every word out of the umbrella academy's mouths just make everyone more concerned on principal but like, five and klaus are probably the worst offenders. Klaus just says whatever comes to mind with no filter and Five doesn't get what people would consider to be abnormal anymore like

Five: yeah our dad bought us when we were babies and experimented on us throughout our childhood in order to make an elite team of child soldiers superheroes, it happens

Todoroki: ...have you heard of quirk marriages?

izuku probably has an aneurism bc he's is the only person who might recognize them from the comics because you know ya boy extensively researched the idea of heroics in pre-quirk eras (batman was an inspiration alright???) and might dredge up a memory of a less popular comic series

Five: I can time travel but it is very hard, which is why we are hundreds of years in the future. And why I look like a child.

Kaminari: so are you a kid or not?

Five, serenely: whatever is most convenient for me at any given moment

Mina: hell yeah game the system

they have a brief lesson on astronomy and Luther raises his hand like "ooh! i was isolated on the moon for four years and did SO MUCH research" and then just gets up and starts infodumping like way too much information on the moon

Izuku sitting there like "damn if quirks hadn't popped up we could have achieved so much in terms of space travel. please tell me more giant man who lived in pre-quirk era."

Vanya finds out about the quirkless and is like "oh mood that genuinely sounds like my childhood, being ordinary in a house full of extraordinary people, and then i found out that i did have powers but only much later in life after i had already been emotionally scarred by the experience"

deku: vanya we have so much in common

iida and uraraka: concerned noises

aizawa: hound dog. therapy with hound dog for all of you.

there's probably some conflict with like, the hero commission wanting to get their hands on the time travelers?? but probably especially five and klaus as a) time travel and b) ghosts (the hc def has bodies they would like to stay buried)

five has a pavlovian reaction to anything with 'commission' in the name and hates them on site, probably plays into his age in order to become a ward of UA or something to protect him from the commission a little bit.

(this makes nedzu Five's legal guardian. aizawa has his resignation papers all prepped in a drawer marked 'in case of emergency' but let's be real, if nedzu wants to take over the world aizawa should probably be on the rat-bear's side of things :/)

five: ah, i do recall the inhumane experimentation that we were subjected to

nedzu, who was experimented on: haha same hat! want me to dig up the location of reginald hargreeves's remains so you can spit on them?

klaus: nah no worries we dumped them out in the courtyard unceremoniously like, a while back. how long ago varies for each of us because of time travel!

luther: you said hound dog's office was down the hall and to the right?

on the bright side, Luther probably feels like. way less self conscious about his body, partially bc of his fighting and all that in the 60s but also bc !! now he genuinely doesn't feel like a freak. no one even gives him a second glance. one of the teachers looks like a slab of cement with a face. gang orca looks Like That. there is literally a student with an entire bird head and goth aesthetic. Luther does not stick out at all

allison and shinso bond over having "villainous" voice-based quirks

allison and shinso having worn muzzles at some point in their youth as punishment 🤝

aizawa probably helps train vanya as well with the whole, being able to erase a world ending quirk safely thing he's got going on which makes for a very nice safety net

i don't think vanya would want to be a hero at the end of things though. maybe the assistant teacher in the music class or something?? all vanya wants is to be able to not end the world

i feel like as time goes by, five brings up trying to get home less and less. part of that is because like,,, genuinely what do they have to go back to?? Allison has Claire, but like. I'm 100% sure the first thing she did in the future was try track down Claire's records and found out Claire was like. fine. became an adult, had a family, probably became the ancestor of the first "quirked" kids who officially popped up after light baby. had a good life, died at an old age etc. etc.

they start settling into the bnha world with like, "we can always hop aboard the five express into where the fuck ever" as a plan Z if things go completely pear shaped (again)

i'mma be real, five himself doesn't give a fuck as long as there is a) no apocalypse and b) his family is alive. Like that's it. His bar is so incredibly low and yet his life keeps fucking trying to limbo under it

i just think it would be funny to have like, Five trying to get along with his "peers" and make friends while the siblings do the same but like, in the staff room

also think it would be funny for five to just walk into the staff room and get coffee occasionally.

a teacher: why is a student in here -

Five, sipping coffee: i'm an adult

nedzu like "what kind of guardian would i be if i didn't teach my new son all the tunnels around ua so he can pop out wherever"

five like "hey new dad can i put stashes of supplies all around ua of weapons, money, food, and other assorted things that might be useful if one needed to fight or make a run for it" and nedzu is like "haha just put your list of what supplies you want in your go bags on my desk and i'll critique it later!"

anyway a bnha/tua crossover would be incredibly chaotic but probably very funny

[jaehyunhour]

i love you so | huang renjun

summary: after knowing renjun for so long, you decide to finally confess your feelings to him. (requested, but the request was too long to post otherwise it would give the whole au away!)

warnings: none.

2.6k words.

you glance briefly at the clock, noticing it’s already 11:50 and jump out of bed. it’s almost renjun’s birthday, and you want to call him right at midnight to sing happy birthday, but the macarons are in the freezer and you need to defrost them so they’re ready to eat right when the clock strikes twelve. you take three out, carefully plating them in the middle of a small plate, one on top of the other two, and you place a candle in the center of the top one. you’ve liked renjun for as long as you can remember, quickly falling for the way he cared for you when it felt like no one else did. although your heart physically aches at the thought of being rejected by him, a sharp pain shooting through your chest at the mere thought of losing him, your feelings are too strong to hide now. you decide you’re going to confess to him after wishing him a happy birthday.

by the time the desert is set, you’ve slipped on a party hat and set up your phone for your facetime call to renjun. right as the clock strikes twelve, you dial his number and wait for him to pickup. within fifteen seconds, you’re met with renjun’s face and feel a warm fuzzy feeling overtake your body. your cheeks flush pink, and you smile at renjun as if it’s the first time you’re seeing his face. before he can say anything, you light the candle and hold the plate out for him while singing happy birthday.

an ear to ear smile forms on renjun’s face at the sound of your soft voice singing and the look of the slightly askew party had sitting on your head. as you reach the end of the birthday tune, you hold the plate closer to the camera and say: “make a wish, injunnie!” renjun pretends to blow the candle out and you slightly blow without him seeing, so it seems like he actually blows it out. you clap loudly after setting the plate down, and pop a macaron into your mouth.

“happy birthday junnie! what did you wish for?”

“i wished for a big plate of those lemon macarons you make so well,” renjun says before pausing. “and for you to come spend my birthday with me.”

“you want me to come spend the day with you?” you ask, eyes slightly wide and glossy. it’s nothing new for renjun to want to spend time with you, but your heart races every time he asks like you’re a puppy in love.

“yeah, you and the dreamies! they have a few things planned for me, i imagine you can’t make it for breakfast but you could get on the train in the morning and make it in the afternoon, yeah? does that work for you?”

you think for a second, before nodding your head. you had recently accepted a higher paying teaching job in busan, moving you a 3 hour train ride from seoul and, more importantly, renjun. “yeah! i can get on the train around noon, and get there in the afternoon if that’s okay with you? i don’t have any lessons tomorrow but i still need to go into the school in the morning and do some lesson planning, but i will be done by eleven.”

renjun cheers at your answer. “yay, i can’t wait to see you! okay, i’ll let you sleep then so you can get enough rest before going to work in the morning. see you soon, love you.”

“happy birthday again! love you, see you tomorrow.”

renjun waves before ending the call, and you groan loudly as soon as you realize that confessing is going to be harder than you originally thought. while your first plan to confess fails, you decide that you will just write him a letter and get it done with. the train ride will give you a chance to write the letter, and also finish your present for renjun.

as expected, you are able to quickly finish your lesson planning and hop onto the noon train heading out of busan to seoul. you sit next to the window, enjoying the sunlight shining in as you continue your present for renjun. a few months ago, renjun mentioned he enjoyed the look of embroidered sweaters, so you took it upon yourself to learn how to embroider. it took a lot of practicing, but you were finally at a place in your embroidery journey where you felt confident enough to show others your work. for his birthday, you’ve decided to make renjun an embroidered sweater with an outline of your favorite photo of him and the dreamies.

the stitch works comes quickly to you, and halfway through the ride you are done with the sweater. you smile, looking down at the sweater proudly. you fold it neatly, putting it into the gift bag you brought with you, and setting the bag down next to the cooler with the homemade macarons. you pull out the daiso stationary you’ve brought from home, using the top of the cooler as a hard surface to write your letter to renjun. by the time you have perfected everything you want to say to him, there is only thirty minutes left of the train ride. as you stare out the window, the scenery becomes all too familiar and you feel your body warm at the thought of finally being back in seoul. it wasn’t often that you were able to come back to visit, but every time felt like the first. and the thought of seeing renjun sends a bolt of electricity through your body, you stand up in the aisle of the train and jump slightly, ignoring the weird looks from other passengers as you rid yourself of the pre-seeing-the-boy-you’re-stupidly-in-love-with jitters.

once off the train, you’re met with johnny. you didn’t know him very well, only having spoken to him on a few occasions, but you figure he’s here for you. he pulls you into an awkward side hug as you come up to him, and pats your head.

“sorry, i know you’re probably expecting renjun, but he’s still a little busy with his morning birthday activities,” johnny says, taking the cooler from your arms and leading you to his car.

“no, that’s okay, don’t worry! i honestly thought one of the other dreamies would come, but it doesn’t matter as long as i get to renjun!” you assure him.

“yeah, honestly,” johnny says, starting the car. “i’m just doing a favor for mark, who’s doing a favor for one of the other dreamies. i think jeno was supposed to come get you, but he couldn’t so he asked mark, you get the gist.”

you nod slightly, getting into the passenger’s seat of the car. the car ride is comfortably silent, the only noise is the sound of johnny’s breathing and your music playing lowly in the car’s speakers. although it’s only a fifteen minute drive from the station to the dorms, johnny insisted on letting you play your music. once you arrive at the dorm, johnny sends you off with another pat on the head. you thank him softly, taking the cooler back into your arms and making the trek up to the floor the dreamies live on.

the inside of the dorm is absolute chaos. there is confetti everywhere, streamers, a huge banner that reads “happy birthday injoon!” in korean, and a 4 tier birthday cake. no one notices you come in until you scream at the sight in front of you.

“this is an absolute nightmare, oh my fucking god,” you say, almost dropping everything in your arms in shock.

jaemin, the most sane one in that room, quickly meets you at the door and takes everything from your arms as you stare in shock. once your hands are free, renjun runs up to you and pulls you into a hug. one of his hands rests on your back, right between your shoulder blades, and the other is holding your head. he holds you tight as you nuzzle your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and inhaling his scent.

“i missed you so much,” renjun says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“i missed you so much more,” you respond, pressing a kiss to his chest. nothing new.

renjun pulls back, holding your face in his hands and squishing your cheeks. “i’m so excited you’re here, thank you for coming. how was the train?”

“it was okay, not too bad. i’m a little sad you didn’t come get me at the train station, though.”

renjun sighs, “i know, i know, i wanted to try and get this place cleaned up before you got here, but it wasn’t enough time.”

“you’re telling me this place was worse earlier?”

“unfortunately, yes. will you help us clean, please?”

“you’re lucky it’s your birthday, junnie.” you stick your tongue out at him, before taking your jacket off and hanging it on the coatrack by the door and getting to work.

between you, renjun, and jaemin it takes you hours to clean the apartment. jeno took chenle and jisung out while you cleaned, figuring that they would just make the issue worse instead of helping. you’re done right as the sun begins setting, and you go up to the roof with renjun to watch the sunset.

“the city always looks so pretty from up here,” you say to renjun, resting your head on his shoulder.

“i bet it doesn’t get as pretty as this in busan,” renjun responds.

“it’s pretty there in a different way, but it could never be as good as seoul. there’s no huang renjun in busan,” you pause. “have you had a nice birthday?”

“it’s definitely been interesting,” renjun starts. “the dreamies woke me up with breakfast in bed, and they took me to the company to practice a bit around noon. i had a vocal lesson and when i got back to the dorm, it was an absolute wreck. i was so stressed, but when i saw you… i felt the stress just leave my body. thank you again for coming.”

you pull yourself off of him, turning to look at him. you grab the gift bag off the floor in front of you and place it in renjun’s lap. “i made you something, i actually barely finished it on the train ride here.”

he pulls the sweater out of the bag, and audibly gasps when he sees it. his fingertips run over the stitching, and he feels himself getting teary eyed as his heart swells.

“oh wow,” he whispers. “you’ve really outdone yourself this time, y/n.” one of renjun’s hands reaches over for yours, and he intertwines your fingers. your palm begins to sweat, heart beating faster than you’ve ever felt before, and you just hope renjun can’t hear it.

“you like it?”

renjun’s other hand comes up to wipe the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes as he turns to face you. “are you kidding me? i love it.”

renjun locks eyes with you and gives you a slight smile, and you smile back. for a split second, renjun’s eyes flicker down to your lips, and you are convinced he’s going to lean in and kiss you — when his phone starts ringing. he pulls it out of his pocket and sighs when he sees the caller id.

“it’s jaemin, we should go back to watch the movie,” renjun says quietly. you nod and stand up to go back, but renjun quickly pulls you into a hug. “thank you,” he presses a kiss to your forehead and you return together to the dorm.

the dreamies are busy trying to figure out how to set up the projector they’ve boughten specifically for this occasion, wanting to watch a movie to end renjun’s birthday celebrations. as they are struggling, the food they’ve ordered arrives and you decide to go wash up before eating. in the bathroom, you wash your hands and stare at yourself in the mirror.

“you got this, y/n,” you say to your reflection. “all you have to do is give him the letter, and that’s it. then you’re home free, that’s all.” you pull your phone out, quickly asking renjun to meet you in the hallway because you have one final gift for him. you step outside of the bathroom, waiting nervously for renjun to arrive. a few minutes pass before he meets you in the hallway, slight concerned etched on his face.

“hey, you said you had something for me?” renjun asks. you had a tiny speech prepared, but as soon as he stepped in front of you, and you saw the way his hair fell in front of his eyes and the way he licked his lips as he waited for a response, your mind went blank. all you could do was pull the letter out of your pocket, shove it into his hand, and place a kiss on his cheek before going into the living room to help the dreamies set up, effectively leaving renjun stunned in the hallway.

happy birthday, renjun! wow, you’re getting old, huh? i hope you love the sweater that i made for you, and enjoy the homemade lemon macarons. you better make them last because i can’t come back to seoul every week to bring you more! not to be sentimental, but i am so glad that i have you in my life. you are so incredibly talented, and treat everyone as if they’re one of your own, and for that i admire you so much. thank you for letting me know you all these years, and letting me celebrate every moment of your life. you are incredible, and i wish i could scream it to the world! renjun day is every day in my heart. i don’t know what i would do without you in my life. you are my best friend, the only person i wholeheartedly trust, and i can’t imagine what my life would be like without you in it. which makes what i’m about to say so hard.

this is really difficult for me, because you know how badly i fear rejection, but it’s something that must be said. junnie, i can’t remember a day where i haven’t been in love with you. for as long as i can remember — as long as i have known you — i have had feelings for you, and i’m afraid that it’s too much for me to keep locked inside. you cared for me when it felt like no one else did, encouraged me to follow my dreams, offered a shoulder when i needed one, and even held my hair back when i threw up after the sm halloween party that one year. and for all of those things and more, i have fallen for you. thank you for making me feel special always.

sorry i had to do this on your birthday, but i truly couldn’t wait another day to tell you how i feel. it’s been eating me alive for all this time, and it feels so good to get it off my chest. if you don’t like me back, though, can we pretend this never happened? if you don’t like me back… let’s just pretend this never happened. i would rather pretend this never happened than hear you reject me to my face. happy birthday again, junnie.

i love you so.

y/n.

[sand-boxx]

coffin talk

Pre-flagstaff. Sam plans to run away as tensions mount, and Sam becomes increasingly desperate.

warning: implied abuse, swearing, violence

(no beta. apologies for any errors)

ao3

—————

When Sam is 16, he gets suspended from three schools consecutively.

He’s not sure what the fuck is wrong with him, only that Brett Wilson shoving him into a locker for the 4th time in a week because he sees Sam as his new little chew toy makes Sam see red, and his fist has connected with Brett’s jaw before he’s even aware of what he’s doing.

Brett stumbles, and Sam catches his collar before he can fall and punches him again, hard, and his nose crunches under Sam’s fist. Brett falls like a felled tree, splayed out on the tiled floor like some fucking star fish or whatever. Sam’s fist aches but it doesn’t bother him, and his chest heaves from the adrenaline. He opens his fist, clenches it and turns his attention to his cronies. Sam wants to punch the shit out of something, he wants them to come at him, to give Sam a reason to slam Finlay’s head into the locker just hard enough to make him see stars and hopefully scare the shit out of him, to kick Trevor in the fucking stomach. Sam’s disappointed when they both run off.

He gets suspended for three weeks. Excessive violence, the principal cited. He’s lucky that the Wilson’s don’t want to press charges - as if Sam isn’t the one he’s been harassing since they got here.

John’s pissed when he hears about it. He doesn’t ask Sam why he decided to make the school bullies eat their words for the third time as they sit in the car, and he doesn’t mention Sam’s previous suspension from the last school he was at a few states over.

Sam isn’t sure what’s wrong with him. But he’s angry, pissed off all the time and Brett got on the receiving end of that after one too many times thinking he can shove around whoever he wants, as if Sam is just going to lie down and take it just because Brett and his cronies have got more muscle than he has.

Dean’s despondent at best these days and Sam doesn’t bother saying anything to him as John follows him through the door of the motel. It’s an end room out of the way, but the older couple next door keep shooting Sam pitying looks when they spot him, and Sam has no idea what to do about it.

“This is the third fucking school, Sam,” John’s saying from the kitchenette, breaking the tension in the room like a sledgehammer to glass, but Sam knows for a fact there’s no food there. Knows John and Dean blew the last $50 in cash they had on booze the other night in a post-hunt celebration. The smell of cheap beer still lingers on John’s jacket. Dean doesn’t say anything from where he’s sitting, cleaning the guns. He hasn’t said anything for a while. Sam pretends he’s not worried about it.

Sam doesn’t bother replying, he just wedges himself into the bathroom that isn’t built for someone who’s 6’2 and 80% limbs, locking the door and trying to convince himself that screaming is only going to get him in trouble. The old couple next door are worried enough.

Maybe John thinks that Sam is beyond help, because for once he doesn’t say anything, just lets Sam hide away in the bathroom, there’s no screaming or John banging on the door telling Sam to take it like a fucking man.

He slides down the door until he’s on the ground, back pressed against the old wood and the rusted yellow tiles glare back up at him. He still has Wilson’s blood on his knuckles from breaking his nose.

He’s not sure why he’s so angry, why he feels like he’s been choked out every day, why he feels like the walls are closing in around him.

Maybe there really is something wrong with him. Dean doesn’t have any problem with the way they live, so why is Sam falling apart at the seams?

Dad says he just needs to get over himself, pull his head out of his ass and start acting like a hunter and then he’ll be fine. The sooner he quits school the better, the more he can focus on the hunt rather than whatever useless bullshit they teach him at school, the better.

(Sam’s english teacher says that Sam could be a writer one day, that she likes the way he writes and that the horror story he wrote for an assignment genuinely scared her; Sam’s math teacher says his marks are always above and beyond what’s expected, that he could get into just about any college if he worked for it. He says that Sam can do anything, that he can decide. John says it’s not his choice to make.)

The bathroom window is cracked open, and Sam thinks he could squeeze through it. He just needs some air, needs to get away from John, from his disdain. Sam is pretty sure there’s something wrong with him, but still, the way John looks at him sometimes - it’s too much.

He clicks open the bathroom door - they only have one bathroom, and Sam doesn’t need dad screaming down his neck for being a selfish prick for hogging the bathroom to himself - and plants one foot on the closed toilet lid and then steps on the side of the basin, raising himself up to the window. He’s lucky he’s as all lean muscle (skin and fucking bone, Sam; Dean would say if he was feeling better) because his shoulders catch the sides of the window, threatening to tear his jacket and this is the only one he has left that actually fits him.

He crawls out like a spider, lands softly on the cement, and freezes, crouched and eyes saucer-wide. The woman from next door is staring at him, in between pegging out some washing on the makeshift clothes line out the back of their motel.

She looks at him, then up at the open window, then back to Sam, and this doesn’t paint a good picture. Why else is Sam running away if the screaming matches between him and John weren’t indicator enough that something was going on.

Sam straightens up, he doesn’t have to stretch far to reach the window, just extends one arm and closes it. John’s going to kick his ass at some point anyway, but he doesn’t want this old lady to get caught up in it.

She turns back to her washing, carefully pegging a shirt to the line. “Would you like to help me, honey?” She asks. She’s eyeing him carefully, but it’s not the same cautious fear of John, or the desperate eyes of Dean, begging him to start behaving like a hunter, to act like he wants to be here. She looks at him like his English teacher does. Concerned.

He nods, and moves over to her. She barely reaches his shoulder, tiny and slight, but her old muscles are evident from what was probably a life of manual labour. She hands him a shirt, and he reaches down to pick up two pegs.

“My name is Ally,” she says. She glances at him, nodding as he pegs up the shirt in a way that’s thankfully Ally-approved. She has an old shirt in her hands, it’s well-worn like the shirt Sam’s wearing at the moment, minus the blood splattering from Brett’s nose.

“Sam,” he replies.

She doesn’t ask if he’s okay, if he’s safe. Ally’s smart enough to know the answer and Sam’s got a plan forming anyway. It’s not like she’d be able to help him; not really. So what if she helps him get out, so Sam can end up in some group home until he turns 18? He’s heard enough about that to know that’s not an option. And he’s not sure what John would do if it didn’t work, if Sam told someone, asked them for help and it fell through.

None of them are exactly ever sitting on the right side of the law at any given time and being a hunter is kind of like holding hands with being on the run - and he knows John would be pissed.

If Sam wants out that’s on him.

He’s hanging up a pair of pants when Ally speaks again. “Does he need time to cool off?” And yeah, Ally and her partner must have heard every fight between him John these last few weeks.

“Yeah,” he says. “You don’t need to worry though, I’ve uh,” he looks back at the building where his brother and father sit, like they’ll be able to hear him all the way out here. “I’m working on a plan, so you don’t need to worry.”

Ally sighs, all weary and old and tired, and for a moment Sam thinks he’s said the wrong thing - maybe he’d read her wrong, that reassuring her was wrong - but she just meets his eyes. Sad and worried, like she’s seen this all before.

“Do you know when you’ll leave?” she asks him.

“Not yet.” he spares another glance back at the room, like John’s going to materialise behind him.

Her hand comes up to pat his back, and he flinches - hard - but she doesn’t remove it, keeps it there, featherlight.

“Be careful, okay,” He has to crane his neck to look down at her, but her eyes look right through him, she knows exactly what this means for him.

“I will,” he says.

[cycat4077]

Sleeping Arrangements

Part 3 in the Changes verse, though it’s not necessary to read the other parts beforehand. (Part 1 | Part 2) AO3 here (Takes place Christmas 2015, right after 17x10 “Catfishing Teacher”)

Pairing: Sonny x Reader  Warnings: none (hopefully just some wholesome fluff) Words: 1858 Summary: Prior to this trip, sleeping arrangements weren't something you'd given much thought. You had been too preoccupied with pre-holiday grading, remembering the presents and packing the bags. But now, the situation poses a bit of a conundrum: one new family member and no extra beds. 

"So, my mom is a lot like yours. She'll probably smother you in love and food," you warn as the wintery highway passes by. 

"I don't mind that," answers Sonny from the driver's seat. Snowflakes collect and melt on the windshield, dispersing the morning light that shines through them. It's Christmas day and the two of you left NYC early to be able to make it upstate in due time.

"My dad on the other hand," you continue, "may look intimidating, but he's actually a big softy. Cries at chick-flicks all the time. Just don't tell him I told you that!" Sonny lets out a warm chuckle. "Noted!" Ever since you spent Thanksgiving with the Carisis, you've been excited to bring Sonny home to meet your parents. Not only that, but he also just finished a really tough case, so you hope that getting away from work and having a hardy family meal would do him good. "You're not nervous, are you?" you ask hesitantly, recalling how anxious you had been on the drive to Staten Island. "I mean, yeah, but not really. If your folks are anything like you, then I'm guaranteed to be just fine." Sonny smiles reassuringly before shifting his eyes back to the snowy roads. -x- "MY BABY!" exclaims your mother as you kick off your boots and step inside the house. You fold your arms around each other and hug. It has been too long since you’ve seen one another in person. "And you must be Sonny," she adds, waving over your boyfriend. "It's a pleasure, Mrs. -" but before Sonny has a chance to finish, your mom wraps her arms around him. A low oof escapes his mouth as she squeezes. Yep, Sonny has officially been adopted into the family. "I've heard so much about you, so it's wonderful to finally meet you!" Your mother is absolutely bursting with joy. "Likewise," replies Sonny, flashing one of his infamous smiles. In the meantime, you give your dad a giant hug, glad to see him too. Then it’s time for introductions. At first your father seems to be sizing up your boyfriend, hardened eyes scanning him over skeptically. Sonny extends his hand, offering a polite "Nice to meet you, sir" but your father hesitates. C’mon dad, you think, flashing him a stern look. Thankfully he accepts Sonny's gesture with a firm handshake. "My daughter goes on and on about you and how happy she is," he declares and finally allows a smile. A breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding in escapes, puffing out your cheeks. Always attentive, Sonny senses your unease and casts you a loving look, stepping over to slip you under his arm. After presents and overnight bags are unpacked from the car, the four of you sit down for an early supper. The dining room table is overrun by casserole dishes filled with turkey, dressing, gravy, mashed potatoes and baked carrots; everything that traditionally composes a holiday meal in your household. Once bellies are plump and full, you all sit around the Christmas tree. Growing up, family Christmas trees were always real spruce and were adorned with old ornaments that had sentimental rather than aesthetic value. And like all Christmases before, this year’s tree gives the living room a wonderful smell, while shiny bulbs twinkle from the colored lights that hang on its branches. With everyone gathered together, you swap presents. You had debated endlessly with yourself over what to get Sonny. The two of you were only together for about two months. Was that too soon to be buying expensive or sentimental gifts? Or, since we’re so committed to one another, would it be expected? Instead, you listened to your gut and bought something that you sincerely hoped would make Sonny smile. "What is it, doll?" asks Sonny while tearing at the wrapping paper. The man has the patience of a five-year old. You don't answer, but rather just watch while he takes the gift out of the box. "It's a…" Sonny's face softens and he runs his fingers over the material, "a briefcase." "For when you get that degree and become a lawyer," you elaborate timidly. The item set you back a pretty penny but it was crafted from soft, brown leather and resembled the old style of briefcases from the 50's. You wished that this gift would show Sonny just how much you believe in him. At first he's silent. He simply looks at you with an unreadable expression. He doesn't like it. It's too soon for a gift like this. But then Sonny unleashes a smile so wide that his eyes crinkle at the corners. Your tummy somersaults. "I love it!" Sonny leans over and pulls you into an embrace. You flush with warmth and nuzzle your nose into the soft juncture of his neck. In fact, you're so caught up in the moment that you forget your parents are sitting one sofa over until a quiet 'aww' resonates from your mother. You pull apart to see a pair of baby blues shining with appreciation. Sonny then gets up, sock feet padding towards his coat by the door. He reaches into the pocket, pulls something out and quickly returns to his place beside you. He extends his arm, presenting a small box with intricate wrapping. Your breath catches in your throat. It's jewelry. Sonny studies you with nervous excitement, coaxing you to open it. When you do, the velvety box reveals a silver pendant on a matching chain. You touch the cool metal delicately with your finger, tracing the outline of an apple. "Yourra teacher," Sonny remarks, his tone turning somewhat shy. "And when you like a teacher, you're supposed ta give 'em an apple." You feel tears forming in your eyes as his sentiments soak in. "It's beautiful, Sonny." And you mean those words from the bottom of your heart. It's perfect. He's perfect. You ask him for help to put it on, moving your hair out of the way. His fingertips tenderly graze along the back of your neck, sending goosebumps across your skin. When the clasp is secured, you release your hair and gently adjust the pendant to the middle of your chest. It means so much and you vow to wear it everyday. The gift exchange continues a little while longer; your parents even make sure that Sonny has presents under the tree from them. Your mother all the while brings out various baked deserts, continually offering Sonny more food even though his response never wavers from a lighthearted "I'm stuffed". There's laughter and stories to go around as afternoon shifts into evening. You share your experiences with Sonny from the past summer and your parents recite snippets from your childhood. Of course, they also provide Sonny with a teasing warning about how nerdy you can be, making you cringe out of embarrassment. Sonny, like the gentleman he is, laughs them all off and reveals a few of his own quirks to even the score. As the night winds down and eyelids grow heavy, there's a collective decision to turn in. Prior to this trip, sleeping arrangements weren't something you'd given much thought. You had been too preoccupied with pre-holiday grading, remembering the presents and packing the bags. But now, the situation poses a bit of a conundrum: one new family member and no extra beds. Right away Sonny offers to sleep on the couch. Being that your relationship is still quite new, the two of you have never done the whole sleeping over thing yet. Though uncharted territory, it seems unfair to make Sonny sleep on a lumpy sofa when he'd be driving home the next day. "No, it's okay," you announce, eyes darting between your parents and Sonny. "You can share my bed." Your father opens his mouth to protest, but your mother swiftly hits his arm to shut him up. Instead, she hands Sonny the extra pillows in her arms. "You sure, doll?" Sonny questions, blue eyes seeking yours for confirmation. "Yeah, we've got a long drive back tomorrow. Need a good night's rest." You smile and rest your hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Sonny would never get fresh with you unless you both were ready. Besides, it would be nice to finally make the dream of falling asleep in his arms a reality… "Goodnight then, you two," your mother coos. "If you need anything let us know." You give both parents a hug before retreating into your childhood bedroom. "I'd never try anything. You know that, right?" Sonny blurts as he helps turn down the sheets. You stop and look at him. "Of course I know that," you reassure. "I trust you and in no way feel pressured. Hope you feel the same." "I do! I was justa little surprised that you'd offer to share a bed, especially under your folks' roof." He fluffs the pillow and strips off his shirt.

You can't help but stare at his bare chest. That's another first and boy, is it a good one. Sonny's not the type who has rippling muscles or bulging pecs. Instead, he's lean and toned in just the right places, which, if you're being honest, is way sexier. Sonny then pulls a different tee over his head, dragging you back to reality. "My parents have always trusted me," you resume. "All my decisions are my own and they'd never judge me for sharing a bed with my boyfriend. That's the kind of relationship we've always had." "It's nice," Sonny says simply before crawling under the covers. "My parents weren't quite so trusting." He shrugs. "...But then again we were a strict Catholic household." He pats the mattress beside him and you slip in. "Oohh! Your feet are like ice!" he trills. You quickly pull your toes away. "Sorry." "Nuh-no, doll! Lemme warm 'em up," Sonny grins and reaches for your feet with his own. His warmth provides immediate relief. "That better?" he asks. "Much," you reply. "Good." He switches off the bedside lamp and snuggles down under the blankets. "'Night." "'Night," you say. A silence hangs in the darkness for a few moments. "Sonny?" you whisper. "Yeah?" "Would you...uh...Would you...Do you wanna..." you stutter out, but it seems he already understands. An arm snakes around your shoulders pulling you near. "That okay?" he asks. But rather than answer, you turn your face towards him and place a kiss to his lips. It's warm and soft and tender; unspoken gratitude for the wonderful day you've spent with him. Sonny, responds by kissing you back with a soft hum of pleasure. "I'll take that as a ‘yes’," he smirks against your lips. "Merry Christmas, Sonny." "Merry Christmas," he kisses your forehead and you cuddle into his chest. His arms hold you close as you both fall asleep. You had always dreamed of how it would feel to be nestled up with Sonny like this, and though you never expected the first cuddle to be in your childhood bed, it was still better than you could have ever imagined. It felt right. Sonny felt like home.

---

I SHALL WRITE ABOUT ALL THE HOLIDAYS! (feeback loved and thanks for making it to the end ♥ )

Part 4 here

[bloody-fists-beating-hearts]

It’s a Fallout76/Bethesda rant

Bethesda just released Fallout 1st, a horseshit pay-to-win subscription system for their absolute cum-bubble of a game, and while it’s getting the flack it deserves there are people already putting on their kneepads so they can gobble down Todd Howards entire turgid cock, and as someone who likes rpg’s way too much this irked me, so have a massive and barely coherent rant i took off the discord because why not.

I want to start off with this:  Every good thing about current fallout comes from the fanbase. The stories people tell, the headcanons, the fanfics, the art, everything fans do for it is made with more love, and more thought, than anything Bethesda’s writing and games design team has done in the last 10 years

Now first of all, I haven’t bought or played 76. People are gonna stop me right there and go ”well you haven’t bought it how would you know its bad!!” yeah, I’ve never eaten dog shit either but I can pretty well guess that I ain’t gonna fucking like it.

I knew the second he said "there are no npcs" with actual enthusiasm that this game was gonna be shit. And if you give me 2 seconds to gloat, I never bought the game and I knew this was gonna happen and I was RIGHT so suck my fat hairy nuts all those fanboys who pre-order things mindlessly just because there's a brand name attached to it. If there is anything you take from this its DO NOT PREORDER. BRAND LOYALTY IS FOR BOOMERS AND BOOTLICKERS. FOR FUCKS SAKE BE SMART WITH YOUR MONEY.

Games like this are fucking 80-90 dollars or more in Australia so I actually have to think about whether this momentary distraction is worth almost an entire days paycheck, and I’m still looking for employment which means I actually haven’t bought shit in a while (side note, anyone wants to commission me for 10 dollars I’ll draw damn near anything. God I need to make rent)

Every executive at Bethesda seems to be playing catch-up to EA's monetisation scheme. Beth has abandoned their model of single-player rpg's in favour of a "games as a service" model. Fallout 76 seems to me like its a weird experiment for just how far they can stretch this and still make money. It actually makes me wonder if they are 

 a) just completely unaware of fanbase response [no idea HOW]

b) are running into financial problems and are doing this out of desperation

 c) todd howard is still mad that obsidian made a better fallout than he ever could and he's doing this out of spite 

  Games as a whole has become much like the movie industry where publishers will throw big buckets of cash around to development teams, and those teams have CEO's and higher ups that throw lavish meet n greets and have nice fancy suits and cars and then treat their development teams like shit, overworking them to the point of exhaustion, because the product has to be on time for release dates that are scheduled to be the most profitable (christmas is a notable one). 

And those products are consistently bland, shitty, shallow experiences. Narrative cum-dumpsters that are purposefully made to toe the line as safely as possible, to be open to as wide as an audience as possible so they can make the most money, and Bethesda is a huge offender. Skyrim was fun, sure, but it was watered down to fuck, it had shitty dialogue, it had bland one-note characters, it had a simplified skill system. It was impossible to lose. Seriously, try and fail a fucking quest in skyrim, other than one or two, it's a hand-holder of an rpg, but it has a huge community of fans that put in monumental effort, for free, because they like the Elder Scrolls, and they like the world bethesda made. 

  Then Bethesda goes "hey, that watered down thing we made got huge! lets release it about 12 more fucking times, with some of the SAME bugs, with the SAME content, with the SAME limitations and Yes, we absolutely expect you to pay for it, again. Then they release the remastered edition which, to their credit, is free to anyone who already bought the legendary edition (on PC), and does actually have updated 64bit capability and some graphical enhancements (that aren't anywhere near what some goober in his basement cooked up in his spare time, but whatever). Then, seeing that Skyrim was so popular, with kids especially, and made money, they turn their sights to fallout 4, a game that was so anticipated that someone made a fake countdown and caused a small meltdown on tumblr/social media when it was revealed to be fake (i was part of that fiasco, i remember the hype, i was there goddamnit)

So Fallout, a franchise that literally has its theme as its FUCKING TAGLINE, an ADULT game that is equal parts crude, gory and humorous. A game that satirises the cold war era of american my-country-tis-of-thee blind loyalty and openly mocks the way war was idealised, and shows that not even the literal end of the world could either stop humanity's lust for blood or its desire for conquest. Games that showed you the growth of the world - from shady sands to the NCR, from the vault dweller to arroyo, shit actually happened in the games, the world didn't just stop turning when the bombs dropped. A game where you you become a porn star for fucks sake, and it's funny. 

So Bethesda sees that, makes something like it (fallout 3) which is good, but a little rough around the edges when you look at it too hard. But the way they suck you into the vault, the way they build a relationship with your dad and your way of life is immersive as fuck, so when you leave the place you actually feel like you're leaving something important, not just finishing the tutorial

then they outsource a Fallout game to obsidian, because hey, we saved your franchise by buying it off you, but if you can make an entire game in one year and get a metacritic score of 85 we'll even throw in a bonus. And fuck me sideways and in the ear, if the obsidian devs didn't work themselves harder than a 4-armed hooker. And they made a game that on release was a clusterfuck of bugs, because they were given an unrealistic time limit and missed the metacritic score by ONE POINT so bethesda goes "nhey heh sucks to suck" and fucks them off the franchise forever. EXCEPT (and I admit I'm biased here) the game is good. The game is actually really good when you remove those bugs, and people start forming attachments to it, and mentioning how bad fallout 3's writing is by extension. 

  So Todd and Co. in his infinite wisdom, decide that the only thing a fallout rpg needs is 50s aesthetic and fuck all else, and he releases a game so watered down it can't even be called an rpg. And its not. There are no skills. There are barely any dialogue checks. Instead of dialogue, Nate/Nora is a flat, samrish individual that is either "yes sir right away sir may i have another", "yes but i'm gonna make an unfunny quip about it" "this option pretends to say no but its gonna give you the quest marker anyway". 

The game drops any pretence of difficulty by giving you a deathclaw, a minigun and some power armour in the first 10 minutes, allowing you to effectively reach late-game power levels with some minor scavenging for ammo or cores. Then the game ropes you into some inter-faction war that realistically you wouldn't give a shit about, because some spud in a cowboy hat fucking deputizes you into a military general because you shot like 4 raiders from a rooftop (with a minigun. in power armour. making you nigh-invulnerable to bullets). You're sad about your son about 3 times the whole game and then you're on your merry way to mowing down humans left right and center without a care in the world. God fallout 4's writing is so stupid it gives me an aneurysm.

 Remember the part about resources wars and america only having the veneer of a strong country while riots, inflation, and resource shortages tore it apart from within? Bethesda doesn't, have an eerily stepford pastel coloured glimpse at a world that was totally fine, nothing wrong here, shame it got nuked oh well moving on

Your spouse? yeah you love them, they're said 2 whole sentences to you then they died, be sad because you totally loved them and it is totally sad that they are dead. Your weird play-dough son shaun, you love him so much, you even tickled him on the chin once, okay he's gone off you go to chase him - woah now, don't chase him too hard we have all these side quests for you to do! What would be the narrative reasoning for a supposedly distraught parent to fuck around boston instead of finding their goddamn child? fuck knows! just go pick up some goddamn wood and get to base building sonny-jim! 

Companions? yeah, they're fun, we gave them a romance questline and it's thus: if you pick enough locks and pass a minor charisma check maccready will be ready and willing to tell you about his sick child, and then he'll ride you like a stallion. Talk to him like, 4 times, and he will be your bosom buddy for life in about 3-5 days if you just pick locks like a fucking madman, because character growth is hard and counting beans is easy.

 Also your son is a part of the faction we were talking about! something about synths, remember that one questline from rivet city that barely anyone actually remembers and was an interesting time waster at best? Well get ready to do that same quest but about! 15! more! times! because we could not think of anything else to write about synthetically produced humans that assume peoples identities other than having them as a hamfisted metaphor for slavery. Why do they take over people's identies? Well because the institute needs them to aasdkfjdh kshshshsh t9oe of course. 

Speaking of hamfisted metaphors, here's the underground railroad, named after the underground railroad that actually mattered, except this time its the same thing but synths. They are so top secret that the only way to find them is to follow the only bright red line in a street that is exclusively green-brown otherwise, and then enter their super secret password, which is "password"

They are then, like every other faction, absolutely willing to trust you, at face value, no questions asked, because have to actually do something or require a skill check might make this hard for people under the age of 12 to play. Then you go do whatever fuckin shit you do, I stopped playing at this point, and then you find out your son is actually 60, you guys have a tearful, 10 sentence reunion, then he diesthe whole reason you were out here in the first place dies, and you react appropriately, which is to say you say his name really sadly, and then go back to mowing down raiders with reckless abandon

And then 76 gets released, bethesda drops all pretense of fallout still being an rpg. You want a story? Fuck you, pay up. Its retro future and thats all that makes falloutSatirizing war mongering? You can nuke things in this game and its totally fine, its actually the goal, because fallout has nukes in it right? Pay us 10 dollars and you get army olive drab spraypaint because hurrgh war is fun and great, wasnt that the tagline from the first game?The more i rant the more angry i am because people put their heart and soul into writing this. The lore and dialogue is actual work that someone researched and loved and felt proud of and now  it's becoming a hilariously meta parody of itself. 

Honestly FUCK bethesda and and fuck todd howard for his pisspoor cash grab. Not even worth calling it a video game anymore

[thatawkwardnerdytomboy]

“Stop waiting for things in your life to get better and MAKE changes to make your life better.”

This is something I’m getting really tired of hearing from people. Something people don’t realize about life is that sometimes when you actively do things to make your life better, there’s still a lot of waiting for those things to take effect. I’ve been going through a very difficult time all year. I really really hate my job. I deliver food for a fast food restaurant. Sometimes I have to carry 50+ lbs of food on my back, walk for miles (they don’t give us bikes) and carry it up 4-5 flights of stairs, sometimes in the pouring rain, boiling heat and freezing cold. When I’m not making deliveries, I’m in the dining room cleaning, taking out the trash, running and bussing tables, running dishes to the kitchen, helping customers, mopping, sweeping and stocking supplies. Sometimes I even help with food prep. The only thing I don’t do is wash the dishes. Now you’re probably thinking, “oh, well that doesn’t sound that bad.” Well, try doing that while the room is spinning, you feel like you just ran a marathon and the chemicals in your brain are telling you to kill yourself...and this is all before you even start your shift. I have thyroid disease, vertigo and a vitamin D deficiency. All these things make my job unbearable. I’m constantly exhausted, depressed and dizzy. Not to mention, I have a communication disorder so speaking to people is very difficult as well. My immune system is compromised. I got an infection on my hand after only working there for a couple of months because the restaurant is always filthy and it’s my job to clean it. My finger swelled up so much that I couldn’t bend it. Since I didn’t have medical insurance, I had to prick myself with a needle and drain the pus myself.

I have been trying like hell since I started this job to find another job. And of course, I keep getting rejected. 

So here are a few things I’ve been trying to do to improve my situation aside from applying for jobs:

• I’m a freelance illustrator and I’ve been trying to put myself out there and try to get commissions to make some extra money. But of course, I can’t just assign myself commissions and give myself money, I have to wait for people to commission me and I’ve actually gotten a few commissions this year. I also tabled at an art show last month and sold a few prints and copies of a novel I wrote. 

• I illustrated a children’s book for free as part of a deal so that the author and I can go into business together. However, I’m still waiting for the author to get the book printed. I’d like to emphasize the “waiting” part. This isn’t going to happen overnight. I need to WAIT. 

• One of my former teachers got a grant to work on some short films and he wants to create a short series of pilot films/episodes for a film series. I showed up to every meeting for these discussions always prepared with my script, always on time and always willing to take the next step toward making this happen. It’s been a couple of years since we first discussed this and during the past couple of years, we’ve had to WAIT for him to get that grant. Now that he has the grant, I need to WAIT for him to return from traveling so that we can start filming. More waiting. Not much else I can do at this point.

• I reached out to the dean of my college and the program coordinator of the pre-college program that I graduated from in high school to ask for help with finding work. My college’s campus has a career services office which I’ve visited. I asked for help with finding a job at this office and all they could tell me was that I wasn’t going to find a job on Indeed and that I need to reach out to other alumni and network in order to find work--which I’ve already tried. So now I need to WAIT to hear back from the dean and the coordinator to see if they can help me find a job. 

Story Time: The school that I attended is a not-for-profit university and while I was attending the university, I had a very difficult time securing enough financial aid to remain in my classes. I came close to dropping out because of this. I got a meeting with the financial aid director of my school and they told me that since I was in that pre-college program and I spent so much time in high school volunteering and I came from a poor socio-economic background that the school had a responsibility to help me finish school. So, they gave me extra financial aid to dorm and they helped me secure a work-study job. Now that I’ve graduated, I still need help from my school to find a decent job. As a matter of fact, I got my first job after I graduated because one of my supervisors from my work-study job found me a job. And then I got laid off less than 6 months later...

• I recently had to retake my learner’s permit exam because my permit expired and I didn’t get to take driver’s ed yet. I haven’t taken driver’s ed yet because I’ve been more focused on trying to find a better job, working on the children’s book I illustrated, dealing with my medical issues and just the day-to-day bullshit. I also haven’t had the money since I recently moved out of my mother’s place and drained my savings and whatever money I had to do so. So yeah, I’ve been pretty broke these past few months. Now that I’ve retaken my permit test and went into more credit card debt paying for that, now I need to WAIT for my new permit to come in the mail so that I can start driver’s ed. My girlfriend and I plan on moving to California someday and that’s going to be very difficult to do if we can’t drive. I know, all the Cali people are going “well, you don’t necessarily need a car.” Well, when I visited Cali, my friend and I had to do an obscene amount of walking through the suburbs to get anywhere after getting off public transportation. And having to take trains and busses between each city also takes a lot of time. Having a car would be so much easier. But we’re going to wait until we actually have the money for all of this which won’t be any time soon. Also, a lot of arts-related jobs require that people know how to drive because if you work for an arts program or gallery, they ask people to transport art pieces. So if I get my license, I’ll have more job opportunities in general. But like I said, this isn’t all going to happen overnight. I have to WAIT.  • I used to work as a teacher’s assistant for a non-profit but I quit because they kept running out of money to pay us. But I recently discovered that they increased their pay rate and that they’re hiring. I really hope this means that they’ve solved their funding issues. Anyway, I told them that I want to work there again because, at this point, I rather work anywhere else. I actually liked working as a teacher’s assistant too. It was easy and sometimes fun. So I have a meeting on Monday, that I have to WAIT for to discuss my availability and where they want to place me. So I already technically got the job, we’re just going to discuss my scheduling for the job. 

• I am also writing a new novel not only as a possible way to make money in the future but also as a form of therapy (since I can’t afford actual therapy right now because my “health insurance” is a scam). I’ve also came up with an idea for a TV show and my teacher suggested that I apply for a grant to create a pilot for it. I have over 50 pages of an outline of events that take place on this show. I made a documentary in high school so I know a little about filmmaking but I don’t yet have experience making fictional films so I am going to WAIT until I have experience with the film that I’m going to be making with my teacher so that I know what the process is like and so that I can use it as a way to hone my writing/directing skills. 

• I’m going to be applying for medicaid today since my health insurance is utter crap but I heard there’s a WAITING period as they figure out if the applicant is qualified so I’m probably not going to get that any time soon. But when I do, I’m going to try to find a therapist and/or psychiatrist.  

So in conclusion, I may complain a lot about my situation and I have the right to do so because if I just kept everything bottled up all the time and never complained, I’d probably be having a panic attack every day like I did yesterday at work and like I did last summer at my last job. I get really mixed messages from people about how I’m supposed to go about dealing with my struggles. I get people telling me that if I’m going through something that I need to talk to someone; that I need to talk to them about it. But then when I do, they often tell me to just suck it up and be glad that I have a job and place to live. However, just because I do doesn’t mean that I have a decent quality of life. For example, my apartment has bedbugs and I’ve called the housing office (which has abysmal reviews), 311, the borough president’s office and they haven’t done anything about it so my girlfriend and I had to take care of it and they haven’t completely gone away. My health insurance doesn’t cover any of my medical expenses and I’m paying out of pocket via my paychecks for it. Doctors’ visits are very expensive. I’m currently almost near $3K in debt and that’s just from getting a splint for my wrist and getting testing done at the OB/GYN’s office. I feel like our society has been so conditioned to believe that as long as you’re not homeless and you’re making minimum wage, you should be happy even when your medical insurance company is trying to drown you in debt, you barely scrape by to pay your bills every month, can’t afford to go back to school and you’re living in a bed-bug infested apartment. In other developed countries, people don’t have to struggle the way that we do. Their tax dollars pay for everything including medical care and college. Their public housing is also better too. So you could live a good life going to school, working part-time and living in public housing in places like Germany but here, in great ole’ America, we have such a terrible quality of life that it makes people want to kill themselves. 

So to anyone who wants to tell me to shut up, suck it up and do things to make my life better, you can shut up now. 

[hockey-yesplease]

Pre-Med? 2/?

Warnings: Talks of cancer

Word count: 2107

Gif by: brosillustrated

Here is Part 2 you guys! I hope y’all enjoy this. I am considering making it into a series, Let me know what you think! 

You wake up at 6 am as you usually do on a Wednesday so you can get ready for class. Stretching, you grab you phone from the nightstand with one hand and pet Auzzie, your cat, with the other. You get up and make your way to the bathroom to do your usual routine in there. While, in there, you decide to wear a tank today since it’s so hot. Looking at your phone finally, you see a text that makes you smile.

Seguin:

Check your front door.

Confused, you make your way toward the door with Auzzie trailing beside you. You open the door and look down and see a coffee and a pastry bag. Smiling, you unlock your phone to message the sweet man who dropped these off.

Doc:

You didn’t have to do that Ty. But thank you.

Doc: 

Wait, how’d you know I was up? 

Seguin:

You’re welcome Y/N. And lucky guess.

You set the phone down to finish getting ready. About thirty minutes later, you are heading out the door heading to campus for your class. As you’re driving and jamming out to your music, you are rudely interrupted by your phone ringing. “Hello?” “Hey Y/N! Enjoy your coffee and bagel?” “I did Ty. Thank you again.” “You’re welcome, what are you up to?” “Well I’m driving to campus for a class then-” “You didn’t forget about our date did you?” You laugh, “No Tyler, I didn’t forget. My class gets out at 10:50, so I’ll be ready for you to get me at 12:30.” “Okay! Good! Well, have a good class and I’ll see you later.” “See you later Ty.” Hanging up you can’t wipe the smile off your face. 

Your class goes by uneventfully. And you finally start to make your way home; once in your car you see that you need gas, “Of course” you say out loud to yourself. You pull into the first gas station you see as you leave campus and pull up to the pump. Getting out you see Jamie on the other side of the pump getting gas as well. “Hi Jamie!” You say with a smile. “Oh hi Y/n.” He says with no friendliness at all in his voice. After standing in awkward silence, the pump cuts off, you put it up, “Bye Jamie!” “Bye Y/N”  You don’t know why he doesn’t like you, but you were still going to be nice to him. Your mom always said to be nice to everyone no matter what, and that’s what you were going to do. 

Opening your door to your apartment, you toss your backpack by your desk and kick your shoes off. You decide that you look cute enough in what your wearing, which is a cute blue tank top with a pair of khaki sort, and your normal tennis shoes. It is about 11:45 so you decide that’s plenty of time to study some before Tyler gets here. You are so focused on studying, you barely hear the sudden rap of knocks on your door that sends Auzzie running seeking a place to hide. 

Opening the door, you are greeted by a smiling Tyler holding a bouquet of beautiful sunflowers and blue bonnets. “Tyler these are gorgeous. Thank you. You’re doing too much for me.” “You’re welcome Y/N and they don’t even compare to you Y/N. I want to do this stuff for you.” “If you saw so Ty. But for future references, I don’t need all this. I’m a very low maintenance girl.” “Okay, but if you’re my girl, you’re going to be spoiled.” “Well, I’m not you’re girl yet Seguin.”

Tyler waited as you put the flowers in a vase with some water. “Hopefully Auz won’t eat these.” “Auz?” Tyler asked confused. “Yeah, Auzzie is my cat. Sometimes he eats flowers and other times he doesn’t.” “Oh where is he?” “Most likely under my bed or in the linen closet in the hallway. He’s a scaredy cat” you say laughing, “im sure if you stick around you’ll meet him one day.” “I guess I’ll have to stick around then.” He says while smirking down at you, “Ready?” “If you are” you say as he grabs your hand. You can feel the blush creep up to your neck to your face. 

He guides you to his Jeep and you’re in awe, whistling lowly you stop to really look at it. Tyler notices this and laughs, “Like it?” “Are you kidding? This is a beaut! My dad would be so jealous of this. He has a Jeep as well in high school I helped him add on to it, I think because I have little hands” you tell him laughing. He opens the door the door for you and you climb in. The drive to the restaurant was quiet, Tyler asking questions about you and your family. “Do you have any siblings?” He asks you while keeping his eyes on the road, but gripping your hand sweetly. “I do, she’s 8 and her name is Y/S/N” “I bet she misses you.” “She does, it’s so heartbreaking to FaceTime her and see her get upset when she says she misses me. DO you have siblings?” “I do. Candace and Cassidy. They great.” 

The two of you pull up to a small, cute diner and get out. Ty meets you at the front of the Jeep and you guys walk into the diner. You two are seated at a two-person booth and immediately look at the menu, “I’m feeling a burger vibe from this place” you say as you put the menu on the table. Ty looks at you and bursts out laughing. Catching his breath he looks at you, “A burger VIBE?! Omg my god Y/N you’re killing me” and he laughs even more. His laugh causes you to crack up and you can’t hold back the snorts escaping you. He just looks at you with wide eyes and laughs even harder. This goes on for a solid five minutes before the two of you calm down. Gasping for air, you finally say, “Yes VIBES Tyler. I get good VIBES from this place especially the burger VIBES.” “Okay, okay, okay I guess I just never knew what to call that feeling, but now I do. And I can’t believe you snort.” You look down slightly embarrassed. Ty looks at you adoringly and reaches across the table to place his hand under your chin lifting your head so your eyes meet his “It’s the most beautiful laugh I have ever heard Y/N and I hope I can keep you laughing like that.” This makes your face turn bright red, but you smile, “I hope you do too Ty.” You guys order and eat your lunch and you just can’t believe how you got to this point today. 

You catch Tyler looking at your left arm, the arm with your sleeve. And for once you don’t feel self-conscious about someone staring at your tattoos since both his arms are covered with the beautiful artwork as well. “Why flowers?” “My grandfather has a big garden that during the fall and early spring he grows vegetables, but mid-spring and all of summer the whole garden is flowers of all kinds. I’ve always loved flowers, all kinds of flowers. But I will say that sunflowers are my favorite.” “But there’s not any in your sleeve” Ty states a bit confused. Your smirk your devilish smirking look at him through your eye lashes, “That’s because those are somewhere else.” He looks at you with wide eyes, almost shocked by how seductive that sounded. “And you won’t see them until I want you to” you continue as you lean back in your seat, amused by his reaction. After clearing his throat he finally speaks, “I noticed the breast cancer ribbon on your wrist. It’s done really well.” “Thank you, my mom and myself talked my grandma into us all getting matching ones. They both have had breast cancer and are now in remission.” “Oh wow, thats rough.” “It is, especially since I wasn’t near either one of them when they went through it all. I was at school and couldn’t go home at the time. It was so hard not being there.” “But you persevered. You’re strong Y/N, I don’t think I could handle getting news that my mom had cancer.” “They are the strongest women I know. They went through so much, I can only hope to be as strong as them.” You smiled after saying this, because its true. Ty smiles at you as he finishes signing the check and reaches his hand for yours.  As the two of you walk out, the elderly couple that was in the booth next to yours stopped you and the woman told you, “You two remind me of my husband and I at y’all’s age. So young and happy. I wish you two the best.” You smile politely at her, “Thank you ma’am. Enjoy your meal.” 

You and Tyler head back to your apartment; when he finally parked in a spot in the parking garage to your apartment. He looks at you and before you can stop yourself you say, “Would you like to come up and watch a movie or something?” Tyler looks at you and cuts the Jeep of, “I’d like that.” The two of you make your way to your apartment you walk in and kick your shoes off as Tyler does the same. You make your way to the living area and turn the TV on, “What do you want to watch, Ty?” “Whatever you want, I don’t mind. Um, where’s your restroom? ” “It’s right down the hall. I’m sorry it’s a little messy I was rushing this morning.” While he’s in the bathroom, you grab the AppleTV remote and turn on your favorite movie, D2:The Mighty Ducks. When he comes back out, he laughs while looking at the TV. “Great choice Y/N.” 

The two of you settle on the couch and start the movie. About halfway through the movie you get thirsty and get up to make your way to the kitchen, “Would you like anything to drink Ty?” “I’m alright. Thanks though- oh hey little guy.” As you walk back into the living area, you see that Auz has jumped up on the couch laying beside Tyler. “He never gets that close to new people.” “Must be a sign then Y/N” Ty states as he’s looking at you. 

You sit down and finish watching the movie, this time, Tyler has you wrapped into side side with one of his arms and the other is softly petting Auz. You’re disappointed as the movie ends; Tyler looks at his phone and sighs, “Well, I need to go so I can let the dogs out before they destroy my house.” Laughing as both of you stand and make your way to the door. He puts his shoes on and stands back up, and you realize how close the two of you are. He towers over you seeing as you are 5 foot 7 inches. He slowly wraps one arm around your waist while one hand goes to your cheek. You swallow as he leans closer to you, and you lean into him. Finally, he captures your lips with his in a short kiss. He pulls back and looks at you, but before he can say anything, you pull him back down to you and kiss him again placing you’re arms around his neck as his pull you even closer to him, this time the kiss was different like something you had never felt before, something good. Really good. Once you two separate, Tyler smiles, “I’ve wanted to do that since I got here to pick you up.” “Well I’m glad you finally did.” You laugh as you pat his chest, “Now you better go let those pups out before they start to think that you forgot about them.” “You’re right. I’ll talk to you later babe.” Your heart flutters at the new nickname, “I’ll talk to you later Ty. Be careful driving.” He begins the walk downtime hall to the elevator and presses the button. The doors open before stepping in, he looks back at you and meets your gaze. You blow a kiss and he laughs and shakes his head as he steps in. You close the door, and go sit at your desk as you think to yourself,

“Oh boy, one date and I’m in deep.”

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find

“Name.”

The word itches in her ear as she stares at she box, stymied. She’s used to the ones at the apartments, where you press a button and talk, but this one is smooth, sleek, barely more than a speaker. It’s meant to not ruin the line of the gate.

Shirayuki shifts, staring up at the spear-points of the finials, the toe of one sneaker scratching at her ankle. She hadn’t known -- Zen hadn’t told her there’d be some sort of gate keeper. She’s known he was well-off -- hard to miss that, with the sort of gossip that went around him at the school -- but she’d thought -- Mcmansion. Three car garage. The usual sort of extravagance.

She was not expecting Wayne Manor, complete with wrought iron gate and stylized W, driveway stretching endlessly behind.

“Name.” Also complete with disembodied voice. “Just say it. We can hear you.”

That...does not make her feel any better. “S-Shirayuki.”

A sigh huffs out of the speaker. “Full name.”

“Shirayuki Nowakowski?”

“Are you expected?” the box demands, with about as much emotion as a toaster.

“Uh.” She stares at the brick wall, at the little spearheads on top of the gate. “I’m here for D&D?”

There’s no answer from the box this time, just a buzz as the gates swing open. It’s so slow she’d be waiting whole minutes if she was trying to drive up. As it is, she slips through the gap as soon as it’s big enough to fit her.

She turns back when she’s halfway up the drive, just in time to see it open fully, standing there like there’s an actual car to let through. She giggles at that, stumbling over some curbing, and –

“PLEASE DO NOT STEP ON THE GRASS!”

“Oh gosh!” she yelps, dodging the aggressive spray of a sprinkler. “It was a mistake!”

The sprinkler, for its part, is unmoved. Her left sock is partially soaked. A great impression to make the first time she does – whatever this is going to be.

Fun, she hopes.

Shirayuki’s seen a bunch of fancy entrances in her time. She grew up in a Victorian townhouse with full veranda, wrapping front to back, and most of the neighborhood was the same, save for where houses had been pulled down in the 50s to make room for pre-fabs.

Still, this isn’t -- this isn’t a porch, the wood musty and probably rotting in places, just waiting to give an unsuspecting kid a splinter they’ll never forget -- it’s a portico, all columns and statuary, like she just strolled up the lawn to Pemberley. There’s even a round-about that goes through it, so that cars can drive right up, and -- it’s a lot. Just a whole lot.

She gets to the front door -- real wood, she can tell, inset with tasteful stained glass that does not look like it came from Home Depot -- and fully expects a butler in full dress at the door, Jeevesian accent in full force as he asks, your coat, madame?

So she’s not expecting Izana. Not at all.

The number of things she knows about Zen’s brother could fit on the palm of her hand in nine-point-font, double spaced.

Bullet One: He’s older, not even in college anymore, though she’s not quite clear on what he’s doing now. Something important, from the way Zen always talks about him.

Bullet Two: He’s actually serious about this whole Dungeons and Dragons thing, or as he gently corrected after he first anxious text, Pathfinder. She never quite worked up the nerve to ask how long he’s been playing, but it’s long enough that he’s as comfortable modifying its rules as she is with a bread recipe -- he spent most of their first conversation trying to explain gestalt, but she really didn’t understand much beyond being able to start with two classes instead of one.

Bullet Three: He’s even more serious about Arthurian Myth, to the point where she’s sure he must have minored in it or something. He sent her the full text of Le Morte D’Arthur -- in English, thankfully -- as prep for the game.

Meeting him, she can now add bullet point four: he’s extremely, extremely tall.

“Shirayuki,” he says warmly, looming over her with almost a full foot of height. She’s seen him before, met him before, even aside from their late night texts about her character, but – not this close. Mitsuhide’s even taller, but somehow it never seems like this, like something she should be aware of.

“Oh!” she yelps, clutching at her hood. “I didn’t – you – I thought someone –“

“Security told me you were walking up the drive.” He says it so simply, like everyone has 24/7 surveillance at hand. “Can I take your…jacket?”

She shrugs her hoodie closer around her. “N-no! It’s fine. I get cold easy.”

He shrugs. “If you want.” He turns, clearly expecting her to follow. “Do you need me to validate your parking? Next time you can come right in. We have plenty of room, but I can send someone out to put a pass on your windshield. They’re a little strict about street parking here.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” she assures him, wishing her voice didn’t tremble. “I took the bus.”

His steps stutter on the stairs. “The bus?”

She stops herself just short of saying, do you know what one of those is?

He recovers. “I didn’t know there was a bus stop near here.”

There isn’t, but she doesn’t want to explain how she walked almost a half hour from the nearest one to here. “I don’t have a car. Or a license! So…”

“Hm.” She’s not sure what to make of that sound. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“Shirayuki!” A chair clatters against the wall as Zen stands, slipping around the side of the table to…stand an awkward distance from her, as if he’s not quite sure he should hug her or shake her hand or – just let her exist in space. Mitsuhide, for his part, is half out of his seat too, while Kiki hasn’t moved an inch, only giving the barest nods as a hello. “I’m glad you could make it.”

She opens her mouth to say – well, something, she hasn’t really planned that far ahead, -- but –

“She took the bus,” Izana says offhandedly, sitting at the head of the table. It sets off a chain reaction across the room.

“The bus?” Zen’s face is a mask of horror. “Shirayuki, you should have said something. I could have sent a car around.”

She doesn’t miss how he says a car; it comes out so easily she’s not even sure if he knows that it isn’t normal for people to have drivers that can just…go pick people up. Without them there. It certainly doesn’t seem to faze Kiki, and though Mitsuhide makes a face, it’s a resigned one.

“Not to worry,” Izana drawls easily, spreading out his screen. “We have another player coming from that side of town. I’m sure he wouldn’t mine carpooling.” He glances up, gaze fixed over her shoulder. “Right, Obi?”

“There’s worse things than driving around cute girls.”

Shirayuki spins, staring up -- and up -- into a pair of gold eyes looming above her. He takes a step down, right beside her, and then he’s nearly normal height, only a head or so taller than her, mouth quirked into a grin.

Zen scowls. “Who is this?”

“Our other player,” Izana says easily. “You inviting Shirayuki reminded me you were very much missing another important role in your party, and I asked Obi if he’d be willing to fill it.”

Zen frowns. “Do you know how to play?”

His shoulders twitch, barely a shrug. “I played Skyrim at a friend’s house, once.”

Zen looks like he’d like to argue his credentials, but Shirayuki offers, shyly, “You’re already doing better that me.”

Obi stares at her, eyes round, as if he’s not used to -- to anyone taking his side. It last only a second, and then he’s back to his grin, back to his gaze sliding off of her like she’s furniture. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

You have heard of the great castle of Tintagel, but even the tales pale to the halls you are walked through. Everywhere, blue and silver hangs, a dragon and a lily sewn over every one, and when you reach the great doors to the throne room, over them is carved in bold script: Toujours Beau.

Always Beautiful. Always Good. The Pendragon way, it is said. You only hope that it is so.

You are instructed on how to approach the throne: head bowed, stop three steps from the dais, and perform an obeisance. You are glad to be reminded – you have long resisted your lessons, and now, when you need them, you wish you had paid attention.

You have barely dropped into your curtsy, when you hear a soft gasp, when you hear soft footsteps on the stairs, and suddenly you are being lifted upright.

“There is no need for that,” says the man that holds you. He is swathed in blue and silver, a coronet on his pale hair, and you know – this is Arturius, Prince of the Angles. “No women must humble herself before this throne.”

“My lord,” you manage, confused. His hands leave you, and already you breathe easier.

“Come, tell us what must be done,” he says, stepping back, taking his place on the dais once more. And empty throne, larger than the one he takes, sits beside his.

“My name is Lynet,” you say, “and my sister --”

“Lynet?” Zen frowns, craning his neck to see her sheet. “I thought you were going to be Gwenhwyfar.”

“I was,” Shirayuki says, gritting her teeth. “But I read around, and Lynette seemed a lot more –“

Interesting. Not that Guinevere wouldn’t have been, but – Lynette had possibilities. Possibilities that didn’t say healer girlfriend.

“We talked it over,” Izana interjects smoothly. “And Gwenhwyfar was more of a cleric/druid build, which Shirayuki wasn’t interested in.”

Mitsuhide’s brow furrows. “So what exactly are you?”

Force bursts from your hands, magic trailing like crystal flowers from your hands as the missiles shoot straight through the quintain. Sir Bedwyr stands next to you, solid as a wall, stymied.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had arcanists in Tintagel,” he says finally, smile wide.

“I’m not so bad with potions, either,” you offer, blood rushing to your cheeks. “And a bomb or too might be in my purview as well.”

Zen may not be pleased with her choice of character, but Arturius Pendragon, Prince of the Angles, is enchanted with Lynet, and hardly a half hour passes before he is pledged whole-heartedly to her quest to free her sister from dread enchantment.

Obi’s character has still not made his debut.

“Just what are you supposed to be?” Zen asks crankily, after they’ve had their break. “Do you have some quest or what?”

Obi looks up from his phone. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, mouth quirking up in a grin.

Izana glances down at his own phone before setting it aside.

“Shirayuki.” She startles, glancing up at him. “I’m going to need you to roll Reflex.”

“An arrow?” Arturius paces his study, incensed. “Someone dared to harm you in Tintagel, my own home?”

“I dodged,” you offer weakly. Morgaine, from where she stands, slowly shakes her head. His sister would know as well as anyone how intractable the prince could be in this temper.

“There was a message as well, brother,” she says, holding out the scroll. “’To our red haired guest…’”

There are more incidents like that over the next hour. Lynet locked out of her rooms in the tower, flower pots from high windows, all manner of accidents.

Obi keeps looking at his phone. So does Izana.

“You missed,” he says suddenly, while she’s preparing her bombs. “Shirayuki, I need you to roll me initiative.”

The knife hits your desk, rattling your alembic on its burner, and finally you cannot ignore it anymore. You whirl to face the shadows, unnatural in their corner, and spread the salve of true-seeing over your eyes.

It is a man, or something like, twisted ram’s horns curling back along his head and around his ears, eyes darker than night, only a slit of gold to mark them in his face.

“You!” you call out, no longer afraid, but – annoyed. “You are the one who keeps trying to kill me!”

He tries to run for it, but you’re ready, bag of tanglefoot bursting as it lands on the stone. He trips, wines wrapped around his ankles, struggling. You storm closer, immune to the touch of your own magic.

“Kill!” he coughs, smiling wildly as you lean over him. “Kill is such a strong word!”

“Apparently,” you deadpan, hands on hips. “Since you keep botching the job.”

“Botching?” His smile takes a wicked edge. “Is that what you think?”

You tumble, his hands around your wrists, hot and strong like bands of iron fresh from the fire. It tickles, really, you realize as you lay under him.

He stares. “Are you…?”

“I’m an alchemist,” you sigh, wriggling restlessly under him. “Do you really think I’d make bombs without some kind of protection?”

His grin breaks wide, into a smile. “You are the most interesting woman I’ve ever met,” he admits, the heat in his hands dying until it’s…almost pleasant. “Do you happen to have a sister?”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Gods --”

“Unhand her, scoundrel!” Arturius shouts from the door. “Never fear, Lynet, I heard your calls for help --”

You stares. “I didn’t call for help.”

Arturius stares.

“You didn’t?” Zen says, brow furrowed. “Are you --?”

“Yes,” Shirayuki sighs. “I thought I could handle it myself.”

“Mm,” Obi hums, pleased. “Beaumains certainly feels handled.”

“You’re certain you renounce your ways?” Arturius sighs, annoyed. “You won’t try to harm Lady Lynet?”

“Quite sure,” Beaumains the tiefling assures them, with little conviction. “No point after being caught. And if you pay me more coin than my last master –“

“We will.”

The room startles as Uther, King of the Angles strides in, resplendent even without his royal vestments. “I think it only makes sense that since you tried to take the life of Lady Lynet, that you should now be charged with protecting it.”

“Brother --” Arturius objects, but it’s cut short by a wave of the hand.

“There is no one better,” Uther tells him. “After all, even if he will not speak the name, he knows who plots against her, does he not?”

Shirayuki knows she should feel uneasy getting into a car with a man she doesn’t know, even if he’s apparently a friend of a...friend? But even though Obi’s spent the last three hours trying to kill her character, she sees his beat up Honda rusting on the side of the street and doesn’t even feel a twinge of doubt when she slips in.

“Sorry it’s not the town car,” he intones, not sounding anything like Izana, but still, she knows exactly who he’s imitating. “If i knew I was going to have a passenger, I would have at least stocked the minibar.”

“It’s all right,” she assures him, trying to smother her smile. “I think I would be afraid to leave fingerprints on the leather if you did.”

“God, right?” He shakes his head, pulling off the curb. “Our Overlord there tried to offer to have someone pick me up, and all I could picture was some butler rubbing his glove over the seat and pulling up dirt. No thanks.”

She laughs at that, tucking herself into the corner of the seat. It’s not a long drive to her part of town -- their part of town -- but it feels even shorter with Obi, who keeps her giggling almost the whole time.

“Beamains,” she says, eyeing him warily. “That’s not his real name, is it? You didn’t decide to call him Beautiful Hands.”

“He does have beautiful hands.”

She gives him a flat look.

Obi grins. “Beaumains has many names, and many secrets.”

They pull up in front of the apartments, and she tells him, “Sounds like an answer from someone who would name their character Beaumains.”

His grin widens, and there’s just -- something. Something more in the way he looks at her, like he -- he sees her. It’s almost soft, but not -- not the same softness Zen has when he looks at her, half-hopeless and half-determined, like she’s a puzzle to be solved.

He’s handsome like this. It’s a devastating realization, and she tries to -- to un-have it. If only to keep her heart from doing what it’s doing in her chest, to keep her hands from breaking out in this clammy sweat.

“Hey,” he starts, almost awkward, “you wouldn’t...”

He hesitates, eyebrows drawing down, like he’s -- he’s thinking.

There’s a part of her that just wants to bolt, wants to run up the walk and disappear inside to have an existential crisis in peace. But there’s another that wants to stay, that can’t help but wonder what all this -- this tension is. “I wouldn’t...?”

“You go to school with Zen, right?” he says, suddenly very...removed.

Her breath tangles in her chest. For no reason at all, we’re just friends sits uselessly on her tongue. “Yeah, I’m a senior.”

“Great.” Both of his hands grip the wheel, knuckles nearly white. “That’s -- great. I guess I’ll see you next week?”

She wants to ask what he was going to say, but there’s something about the way he’s turned, not quite looking at her, almost -- disappointed? angry? -- that makes her say. “Right, next week! Text me when you’re on your way.”

“Great,” he says as she slips out, closing the door behind her. She’s halfway up the walk when he calls out, “Hey, your birthday though...?”

“May!”

“Right,” he sighs, his whole body slumping into his seat, one hand lifting to his temples. “Right. Next week. Text before I come over. Perfect.”

He drives away, and Shirayuki can only wonder at the disappointment in her chest, at the way things feel unfinished.

“Oh well,” she murmurs to herself, hands trembling as she tries to fit the keys in the lock. “There’s always next week.”

[edierone]

Antes de la Guerra

From a fic request by @emceecapitalc, who wondered - based on this piece of the trailer, made giffy by @tatianagmaslany- how the hell a couple of 50-somethings could fight assassins on no notice after years out of the game ...

It started out as just exercise — a joyless 30-minute pre-dawn burst of cardio at the zero-frills gym one sketchy block from the hospital, three days a week. Kept her weight down and her heart healthy, even if it was broken.  

But later, when she and Mulder fell into spending weekdays at the place she kept in town, he started accompanying her there, and as they regained fitness, the old competitiveness kicked in — they gradually got up a little earlier, stayed a little longer, started adding some weights to the routine.

They never spoke to anyone else there, never looked into any of the gym’s other offerings, just pushed themselves, a team of two again.

Then one frigid spring evening, she has to help subdue a psychotic patient and despite her old skills kicking in, he almost gets the better of her. That’s when she starts asking around (among certain women) for a trainer — who materializes one morning at the gym, seemingly from out of nowhere.

Eduardo doesn’t offer any personal details, not even a last name; his accent (in what few words he does say) is similar to that of Irina, Scully’s best surgical nurse, so they think of him as Honduran, whether or not that’s the case. He’s somewhere around 30, and has two inches and 25 muscled pounds on Mulder — lithe, ripped, and with the wingspan of an NBA center.

He makes them for law enforcement immediately, despite the years since they’ve been in the field, but he asks no questions about their service — or why they need his — and they pay him in cash.

Under Eduardo’s tutelage, four brutally early mornings a week, they both get leaner, harder, more flexible. Mulder quietly gives up his teenage junk-food diet — it won’t support this kind of training — and when Scully finishes the last of the bottles she picked up during BevMo’s most recent 5-cent wine sale, she doesn’t restock. They sleep better, they fuck more, they both stop needing their occasional anti-anxiety meds.

They don’t tell Eduardo when they’re back at the Bureau, but one steaming marshy 5:15 a.m. that summer, he straddles Scully as she bench-presses her last heavy rep and says in his calm but deadly-serious way: “You ready for fight?”

Mulder, who’s right there spotting for her, guides the bar from her shaking arms into the rests before he grabs a fistful of Eduardo’s painted-on tank top. “What the fuck did you just say to my wife?”

The next few seconds are a blur, at the end of which Mulder finds himself on the floor with the other man’s knee on his chest, and Scully held in a chokehold with Eduardo’s free arm.

“I say, you ready for to learn fight? I can teach you.”

He releases them and stands, as unruffled as if he’s just offered them tea and scones.

The things that have been bothering them lately, the feathery edges of paranoia about what lies in the shadows and what they might have to face now that they’re officially back in the mix — it takes but a second for their minds to connect in the old way, one live-wire glance between them, for both to heave out a yes.

Not here, he says; he’ll come to them. He warns them that they’ll get bruises, scratches, headaches, “make your whole house a mess” — they understand, they agree.

Eduardo may be a man of few words, but he delivers on every one of them.

It’s the oddest working partnership they’ve ever had, Mulder reflects one morning as she’s helping him get his arm into the sling that had been necessary after Sunday’s session: “We pay a guy money to come into our home twice a week and kick our asses — a guy whose real name and origin story we do. not. know, I might add — and then we’re so pumped, we have more sex than a couple of horny teenagers. Not that I’m complaining about that last part.” She laughs, agreeing, then scrapes her nails over his newly-chiseled abs — and once again, they’re almost late to work.

A week later, Scully hobbles gamely into the Hoover with a boot cast on her right leg and a yarn about jumping into a too-shallow pool; the fact that she actually sprained her ankle vaulting a stair rail in her apartment building with Eduardo in pursuit seems somehow implausible as an explanation. She’s not sure why neither of them are telling anyone about their increasingly-rough combat and evasion lessons, but they’ve apparently decided to keep it to themselves and pretend they’re just regular middle-aged agents with a normal level of field readiness. It’s that old instinct for cover, she supposes; better to let your enemies underestimate you, no matter how nebulous those enemies are.

She’s forced to explain herself at the hospital, though, when the department head stops her after a meeting for a little chat about how “ever since you’ve moved back in with your husband, Dr. Scully, I’ve been noticing … things that concern me. Now, I’m not judging, or implying — and of course this is off the record — but as your friend and a fellow medical professional, I have to ask: This contusion on your face — can you tell me how you got it?” She’s not sure Dr. Parekh buys the krav maga explanation, but it’s all she’s willing to say.

That evening, out at the house, is the first time she manages to fend off both Mulder and Eduardo, teamed up against her in an exercise Eduardo called “you get attack by two big motherfuckers, they gonna take you and put you in the trunk.” Her feral scream of victory as she stands astride Eduardo’s “dead” body leaves her voice raw; by the next morning, having traded control back and forth all night in bed with Mulder, she can barely speak at all.

The situation gets weirder, but so gradually that they barely notice: Eduardo stops texting in advance of showing up, and sometimes just accosts them — even in public places — with no warning. He turns off the power to the house, makes them fight in the dark, all three against each other. He handicaps them in various ways — handcuffs, zip ties, one of them dragging the faux-unconscious other. They switch from toy-store blasters to their real pieces — unloaded, of course, with safeties on and fingers nowhere near the trigger.

And then one day, they realize it’s been a week since they’ve seen Eduardo. Figuring they should keep in fighting trim, they turn off all the lights, pursue each other in the dark, end up fucking their brains out on the hardwood floor of Mulder’s office.

A week becomes two, then almost three. They improvise workouts, but start to worry that whatever brought Eduardo to them in the first place has found him.

Just when Mulder is about to start putting out feelers, they get a text from an unknown number: tonight 11 Go to the place I find you argue about if that girl isa good actor or no

The parking garage underneath the AMC Bayview 20 Theatres is deserted at that hour on a Monday. They go, expecting to engage — nerves alight, muscles tensed, adrenaline high. But there he is at the farthest, darkest end — not leaping at them from the shadows, but leaning against a ’70s Mercedes in $300 jeans and an ancient wool overcoat, looking like the scion of an old and wealthy family. He holds his arms up, palms toward them in a gesture of harmlessness, as they approach warily.

He gifts them with a rare smile, and they respond in kind, glad to see him unharmed. “I have to go now,” he says. “You not finishing you training yet, but you gonna be ok.”

“Where — why are you leaving?” Scully asks, half-aware of the bad form of asking that kind of question of a person who obviously wouldn’t or couldn’t answer truthfully. Eduardo just smiles again, shaking his finger at her.

“Best you not know. Come here.” He holds his arms out to them both for a hug. Pressed close to them, he murmurs quickly, with some urgency, “You know I am not Eduardo. I am not Adrian either but — is who I am for now. Entiende? I see those scars at the gym, I see how you together against everybody, all the world, is why I teach you fighting. I don’t know who you fighting, but you ready when they come, yes?”

Then he pulls back a little, turns to Mulder, and kisses him deeply, one arm slung low with the palm flat between Mulder’s shoulder blades — though he hardly needs the leverage — and the other caressing the back of his neck. When Eduardo breaks the kiss, he pivots immediately to Scully, brings her in like a dance partner and lifts her almost off her feet as he dips low to kiss her — a soldier going off to war.

His smile when he lets her go is brilliant but profoundly sad. The two of them stand there, blinking and stunned, as he backs away, opening the car door and shaking his head at them. “You should both have kick my ass for that,” he says with a rueful laugh. Then, soberly, he adds, “Buena suerte, my friends.”

“Buena suerte,” they mumble uselessly as he drives off, their hands finding each other without so much as a downward glance; he’s right, it’s the two of them against the world, and in that moment they’re conscious of just how much better prepared they are for whatever might come — will come.

They’ve never been this sharp, not even with the advantages of youth. And a few weeks later, when strange headlights come bouncing up their private road, they find that Eduardo was right: They are ready.

-------------------------------- @today-in-fic

[12-99-30]

July’s Expenses

July always seems to go by the fastest. Four weeks pass so quickly, it leaves me such a short amount of time to spend with people before they leave for college. I remember this time last year I would be waking up with anxiety knowing there was an impending loneliness that would overwhelm me once my friends left home again. UVA was the only thing in my mind, spending too many hours visioning a future that would never unfold. It’s weird to think that those thoughts consumed my me. I feel free from what felt like literal chains to broken dreams. It’s proof that time really does heal all things, even the intangible and impossible. 

---

I spent this month running and returning. My relationship with running has always been on and off, a bit more problematic than most. My body always seemed to break after I would make substantial progress. 

Shin splints, IT band issues, tendonitis on my feet. They seem like excuses, but trust me when I say I kept pushing until l I realized the cost was too much to pay in the long run. 

My mom always told me that some people just weren’t made to run. That I didn’t have a “runner’s body” or the athleticism like my sister to be good at it. But I no longer wanted to accept that truth for me.

I established a routine. Before each workout, I made sure to roll my hamstrings and calves. I stretched my hips and rolled out my ankles. I did strength training days in between to make sure I was strengthening the muscles that could support longer runs. I always ran a minimum of 3 miles, but aimed for 4-5. Each day, I returned to my running shoes and I ran. Though there were days that the pain told me to stop, I honored my body by stretching and eating well. Took necessary days off, but always came back returned. I think it’s easy to get discouraged by numbers, especially when certain weeks I ran longer and faster, while others seemed to be slower than I began. 

D-- tried to convince me that I was capable of running 3 miles at a sub 9 pace. Even though I was faster than before, I scoffed at him in disbelief. I truly did not believe I was built for that lol. I could barely run two miles sub 9. The thought of running 3 seemed far out of reach, but he believed that there was just a mental wall I needed to knock down.  I remember having knee pain that day, and decided to go easy, but after seeing that I was running two miles at 8:30 min/mile, I refused to let myself slow down. I end up running 3 miles at an 8:17 pace. We also manage to run 6.23 miles together (my longest non-stop run ever). In hindsight, these numbers seem small and tangible to me. When they say running is a mental game, I think that’s the race I am constantly competing with myself. The mental game of returning to the track and not stopping until my goal is reached. I crave the burn in my chest and the gasps for air after a victory lap. The endorphin rush unlocks another level of my brain that silences the voices that tell me I wasn’t made to be a runner. No one is born to be anything. I think you get to decide that. 

-- 

I spent this month saying “Yes” to my dad more. The minivan is filled with thick, musty air. There is always an ingrained odor from the nylon seats that makes me feel slightly nauseated, but the van is where I spent most of my pre-teen years. From practice to piano lessons, from long distance trips to college visits. The passenger seat is where I felt safest next to my dad. I don’t sit there as often anymore; not since I turned 16. As I grew up, my agenda fit less time to be driving around with him. 

However, this day I decide to venture for the search of a birthday bundt cake. As we sit in the parking lot of a shopping center, waiting for our Starbucks coffee, he says something to me. 

“I realize since you guys are becoming adults... I guess I can start doing things for myself,”

I laughed at him, “like what?”, knowing that even if time had allowed it, he would still spend it being our personal Uber drive and ATM. 

“I could go to Asia! Or buy my own condo. I’ve never had a place for myself where I was just responsible for myself.” 

I sit quietly as I meditate on his passing words. After he graduated college, he immediately bought a place for my grandmother so she could stop renting apartments. When he finished paying her townhouse, he married my mom and bought the house I live in today. I think about all the soccer practices he took us to. The kiss-and-rides and drop-offs. The time he spent a Saturday evening dedicated to driving to UVA to pick me up early when I wanted to get home in time for Sunday service. All the expensive restaurants and traveled places  before I even turned 18 that he hasn’t seen until he was 50. I think about his loyalty to other people and how he never had a moment to act on his own behalf. He has never known a life where he could be selfish. As we start to gain independence, I didn’t realize that parents lose their part in our lives as well. My dad’s newfound independence overwhelms him. What is it like to not be needed? So I’m learning how to say “Yes” more. “Yes” to grocery store runs and “Yes” to aimless car rides. “Yes” to the evening walks and “Yes” to the small errands.  For a culmination of “Yes”’s will equate to a lifetime of moments that make us less dependent on them as parents, but more dependent as friends. The time I have left with my family is dwindling each day as I reach new stages of my life. My dad is far from perfect (literally so many imperfections), and there is a history to him that I’m learning and wrestling with. But he never fails to put on his best as a father. 

-- 

I spent this month showing gratitude for my journal and pen.  I finished reading 1984 by George Orwell and Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. Though I have many thoughts on both books (contact me for a book review lol), I’ve come to cherish the freedom of writing. For writing is the craft of thinking, and I am immensely grateful to have the ability to wonder, question, and understand. It’s an act of independence and liberty. The chaos of wrestling and confronting your own thoughts can only be done through jotting down the ideas that run through your head, and challenging yourself to think beyond it. As Coates puts it, “Writing is a confrontational act with my own innocence; my own rationalizations... Teaching myself how to ruthlessly interrogate the subject that elicited the most sympathy - myself.”

-- 

I spent this month trying to reconcile with the past.  I won’t get into this one too much. Mainly because it’s something I’m still navigating. It feels like a bruise that I purposely keep hitting because I need something to remind myself of the pain that got me here in the first place. Trust is placed in God alone, no longer man and their empty kisses and sweet words.

--

I wish my monthly posts were more organized. It seems as though there is no central theme of my life anymore. If you read all of this and make it till the end, just know I appreciate you wanting to know my scattered assortment of thoughts that occur over a month. To better days ahead. 

*** An excerpt from my journal that encapsulates my feelings towards July ***

07/05 Now feels like forever. We talk about forever as if it’s ours. How easy it is for us to talk about tomorrow when today feels so long. Do we really know what we want when we’re this young? What about the version of ourselves when we’re 25? So much can change and so much can happen. Forever isn’t ours, it’s His. Open to His creative interpretation. Tomorrow always comes and each day passes with grace. So much can change so fast. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 9

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 9 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

———————————————————————————-

Len’s noticed that there have been more ghosts around recently.

Like, a lot more.

He’s not entirely sure what to do about it.

“Maybe it’s because you’re getting laid regularly,” Julie suggests.

“He was getting laid regularly before,” Nora objects.

“Maybe marriage noogie’s got some extra juicing powers.”

“As someone who was married,” Nora sniffs, “it most certainly does not.”

“Please stop,” Len says to them, pinching the bridge of his nose.

They fall quiet.

“That was sarcasm,” he adds.

“Have you considered that you’re becoming more powerful?” Nora asks.

Len makes a face at that. That does not sound appealing, thanks. “I still only have as much life as I have,” he points out.

“You’re getting older,” Julie says. “You should have, like, less life now, right? Since you’re using it up living it? But instead, it’s like you have…more.”

It has been easier to give extra life to the ghosts, come to think of it. Len hasn’t been so tired out by it recently, even though he’s giving more of it away because there are just so many friendlies around.

“I’m more worried about the fact that your mom said that people like you start to die around this age,” Mick says from where he's supposed to be napping in Len’s lap. They’re on their goddamn honeymoon. Mick needs to relax more.

Okay, okay, the honeymoon’s been going on a couple of months now, but whatever. They’re back in Central – the wedding ceremony was lovely, Lisa was the world’s most kick-ass flowergirl-slash-maid-of-honor-slash-best-man, the officiant rabbi was a Gotham transplant and had the amazing ability to ignore everything but what was going on right in front of him, and the justice of the peace even got over having a gun held to his head enough to clap by the end of it all – but they’d opted for a nice stay-low-at-home vacation for their honeymoon and damnit, Len doesn’t want to let go of the honeymoon mood just yet.

Even if Mick does seem intent on spoiling it.

“I’m fine,” Len says, even though he has noticed an increase in attacks from the unquiet dead recently. Everyone’s noticed the increase in attacks. That’s why they ended up deciding against going to Aruba or Iceland; Mick didn’t want to risk going somewhere where they didn’t have a good supply of friendly ghosts. “I’m not that old yet.”

“You said your family dies when they hit 50,” Mick says darkly.

“I’m only forty,” Len points out. “I’ve still got a few more years. Besides, forget the unquiet dead attacks! There are more friendlies now, and no one’s gotten through the wall yet.”

Even before they got over themselves and gotten back together, Mick was taking advantage of the increase in friendly ghosts, which seem to come in from all over nowadays, to set up a rotating defensive ‘wall’ to protect Len from the unquiet dead. Len would protest, but the ghosts are so happy to help him out. He barely has to do anything for them, though he tries whenever possible to still spread out some life to them where he can.

He is not a necromancer.

“Are we going to go back and take on the Flash again soon?” Mick asks, changing the subject when he senses the downward change in Len’s mood.

Mick’s always known the right thing to say to cheer Len up. “Yep,” Len says, mood lightening already. “We’ll lure him out and set up a big showdown in front of all the cameras, make a big show of it. They won’t be able to deny he exists – or that supervillains like us do – after that.”

“How do we get him to come to a pre-arranged time and place without screwing us in advance?” Mick asks, sounding a touch dubious.

“No idea,” Len says. “Try to steal something really fancy? Kidnap somebody?”

“Let’s call that Plan A and Plan B,” Mick says.

Plan A does not work, so Plan B it is.

They end up kidnapping one of the girls that helped ‘stop’ Len the time before, since apparently trying to steal high-end luxury cars and successfully stealing an intensely modernistic painting worth millions of dollars isn’t enough to catch the Flash’s interest these days.

Len’s not pouting about it, no matter what Mick says.

(Sure, he might've made a comment about certain superheroes getting snobby, but that's hardly pouting.)

“Sorry about this,” Len tells the young woman they kidnap, a doctor of some variety from what Len can tell. “I don’t think vacuum-boy has left his lab in something like a week, so you were my only option.”

“Your only – wait. Vacuum-boy?”

“Long black hair, kinda short, threatened me with a vacuum cleaner gussied up with some LED lights?”

“Uh, I mean, I guess – wait. You knew about that?”

“Well, yeah,” Len says with a shrug. “I have seen industrial strength vacuum cleaners before. Left because I didn’t see any need to finish off the Streak – wait, it’s the Flash now, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, blinking. “Uh. If you don’t see any need to attack the Flash, then...what are you doing now?”

“Establishing my supervillain bona fides,” Len tells her. “Obviously. No one has officially confirmed the superhero yet, which is a pain. Once we have a confirmed superhero, then we can be confirmed supervillains.”

“Just like in the comics,” Mick says gleefully.

“You’re both nuts,” the girl opines, but she’s stopped screaming and she looks a lot calmer now, which was what Len was going for. Slightly incredulous and disdainful, too, but whatever.

“It’s a matter of opinion,” Len says with a shrug. “Any place you’d prefer to be kept?”

“You’re asking me?”

“I really only need you for the video threatening the Flash and naming the place and time,” Len points out. “After that, you just need to sit tight till our fight is over, and you’re good to go. Would you like a nice spooky warehouse or are you more the comfortable coffee shop sort of kidnapee?”

“You’re very strange.”

“You have no idea,” Mick says with a smirk.

Len rolls his eyes at Mick. He’s actually quite proud of that, thanks.

They end up taking her to an unused apartment that Len knows. It’s mostly used by the Feds when they’re phonetapping the local Families, but they don’t have any ongoing stings right now. It’s nice, pleasant, but empty.

Well. Mostly empty.

“Julie, Deena, make sure she doesn’t leave or use the phone,” Len says, and holds out his hands. Each one grabs a hand and shivers into translucence – still invisible to Caitlin Snow, which turns out to be the doctor’s name, but enough power for a decent poltergeisting. They'll keep her inside the room, and if Len knows how to read people, and he does, the mystery of why she can't walk out the open door will be enough to keep Miss Snow from doing anything rash.

“Nora, Rakesh, Eli, you’re with me,” Len instructs, heading down to the car. “Mick, you take George and Betty.”

“I don’t need guards.”

“As back-up, Mick.”

“Isn’t Plan A for us to get captured so we’re confirmed as supervillains?”

“Well, yes. That's not the point. We want to be captured, yes, but we want to be captured in style - well, so long as we don’t end up having to waste the guy. Have some dignity, Mick.”

Mick smirks and pets his gun. “I think we’re probably going to waste the guy.”

“Probably,” Len confirms cheerfully. He’ll learn to deal with a superhero ghost if it makes Mick keep smiling.

Sure enough, the hero shows up to the stand-off and it’s all going well: they’re exchanging quips, fighting in the street – all the police hanging back along with the media to watch with big wide-open eyes as Len and Mick kick the kid’s ass – and then –

Well, that's when it goes wrong.

“Oh, my god,” Nora suddenly shrieks, seeing the kid stumble and rub at his face in what Len would not have taken to be a sufficiently characteristic way to enable someone to identify him under that mask but which apparently works for Nora. “Barry? Is that Barry? Len – you’ve got to stop – that’s Barry – that’s my son –”

“Well, shit,” Len says, and glances over at Mick. They can’t kill Nora’s baby boy, about whom they’ve heard so much over the years.

Guess they're going to have to go for being captured early.

Mick sighs, but nods. “Wanna ghostbusters it?” he suggests. They’ve already learned not to cross their guns’ streams, thanks to some incautious experimenting, but Mick’s not wrong, it would make for a splendid finale to their fight.

“I’ll take left, you take right,” Len says, and they split up, letting the Flash run between them.

The resulting explosion when their guns clash is very impressive.

Len’s very happy he had a few ghosts helping to cushion him when he gets thrown backwards, because otherwise, ouch. It’s totally worth the minimal loss of life it takes to power them up enough to help catch him. Explosions hurt.

“Guess you win this time, Flash,” he tells what had damn well better be Barry Allen under that cowl.

“There won’t be a next time,” the superhero says confidently. Incorrectly, as it happens, but it’s nice to see he has confidence.

They get hauled through the police station in the traditional handcuffed walk of shame. Len’s keeping an eye out on the crowd and sure enough, there he is, Barry Allen, CSI, just like Nora says.

About the right height and size to be the Flash, too.

“You’d better be right,” Len mutters under his breath.

“I’m sure,” Nora says. “Want me to get your guns back?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

It takes Lisa less than ten minutes to break them out of the prison transport with the help of several of Len’s ghosts. No sweat.

Of course, after that, Len can’t just leave it. Nora’s gotten all mopey about her baby boy putting himself in danger and her not able to help, Mick’s incredibly invested in the whole supervillain thing since it’s practically part of their marriage vows – something has to be done.

Some sort of agreement has to be reached, and Len knows just the way to do it. He has a plan.

That plan doesn’t stop him from kidnapping Cisco and his brother the next time he’s in town.

“I need a few improvements,” he says, plopping his gun down in front of Cisco. “And Lisa needs one of her own.”

“You tricked me,” Cisco says sulkily to Lisa.

“I meant it,” she says. “You are cute.”

“And she is a mechanical engineer,” Len says dryly, having heard the entire story from Betty. “Stop judging people by their looks, Cisco – it is Cisco, is it?”

“Yeah,” Cisco says. “And if you think I’m going to –”

“You are,” Len says. “You don’t want something to happen to your brother, do you?”

Once everything is put together, Len examines the new guns and the improvements he’d requested, all in pristine condition since he’d had a ghost alert him every time Cisco tried something squirrelly. The improvements should make the gun harder to track, even by its creator, and Len loves the fact that his ‘cold field’ idea seems to actually be plausible, even if Cisco isn’t entirely sure it obeys the laws of physics. “Good,” Len says. “Thanks for your contribution. Now it’s time for you two to go.”

Both young men gulp audibly.

“So, where would you like to be dropped off?” Len asks, mood lightening because of their visible terror. He’s not usually a ‘better to be feared’ sort of guy, but, hey, he is a supervillain now.

“Uh,” Cisco says, and then, after a few moments when Len doesn’t continue, asks, “Are you serious?”

“Entirely.”

“It’s not like a ‘drop off by the hospital or the morgue’ sort of thing, is it?”

“Not unless you really want to,” Len says. He hopes not; he refuses to go anywhere near the city morgue, for obvious reasons. He has enough ghosts. Besides, it’s not like Cisco didn’t give him everything he wanted. “How about ice cream?”

“What?”

He drops them off at Friedlander’s Ice Cream Parlor and buys them each a cone.

Social niceties and sheer shock keep them there long enough for Len to get away.

Sure enough, Len’s four blocks away before he’s passed by a familiar crackle of lightning. The Flash is no doubt looking for a man in a parka, not a man in a hoodie reading a magazine in the nearby park with a cute girl on his arm.

“Cute,” Len says, shaking his head at the passing superhero.

“Let’s go get that armored car,” Lisa says, lifting her head from Len’s shoulder, her eyes twinkling. “You promised you’d get me a nice necklace, Lenny.”

Len’s not exactly expecting to be kidnapped by an angry speedster mid-heist, but he’s not exactly surprised, either. Some people take a spot of kidnapping and ice cream so personally.

It doesn’t matter. Plan Ally-The-Flash is officially a go.

“You kidnapped Cisco,” the Flash snaps.

“Good to see you again, Flash,” Len drawls. “Or should I say – Barry Allen?”

The Flash frowns, shifting uneasily, then crosses his arms. “I don’t know what you’re –”

Len decides to have pity on him and nods. On his signal, Julie yanks back his cowl, sliding her ghostly hands all the way through the suit, up and down from toes to top, her ghostly interference disabling all the electronics that might serve to record or broadcast this conversation. She probably cops a feel, too, but Len's not going to hold that against her.

“Barry Allen,” Len says, smirking. “I knew it.”

Barry yelps and lifts his hands to his cowl. “You knew already,” he says accusingly, though he does sound somewhat bewildered by that fact. “But Cisco didn’t tell you; he says you didn’t even ask – how did you do that bit with the cowl? Something with Cisco’s improved guns?”

“You can’t blame Cisco for improving our guns,” Len says, ignoring the original question. “I put him in a tight spot.”

“Same kind I’ve got you in right now,” Barry replies, rallying.

“Can’t really stop me now that I know who you are,” Len points out.

“I could speed you to my own private prison where you’ll never see the light of day,” the kid replies cockily.

Len’s eyebrows go up. “Now, now,” he says, shaking his head. “That’s not at all the Barry Allen I’d been hearing so much about.”

“You mean Cisco? Because –”

“You know what I like about this part of the woods?” Len says musingly. “It’s dark, there’s a full moon out. Perfect haunting weather.”

“Haunting? What are you talking about?”

“Ghosts,” Len says.

“Ghosts,” Barry says skeptically. “You believe in ghosts?”

“Says the man who runs at Mach 3,” Len says.

“…point,” Barry concedes. “So, you mean, like possession and raising the dead and stuff?”

“No, not possession. That’s mediums; they’re weird. And raising the dead is necromancy, and I am not a necromancer.”

“Oo-kay,” Barry says. “Sure. No one was saying you were, Mr. super judgy about stuff that doesn’t exist. Besides, why are we even talking about ghosts, anyway?”

“It’s actually quite relevant to the situation, I think you’ll find.”

Barry arches his eyebrows scornfully, crossing his arms. “Right. How, exactly?”

“There’s a house in the suburbs,” Len says. “Very quiet, very nice, not far from where you live now. There was a ghost there. Lovely lady, thirty-something, very dead – one stab wound to the chest.”

Barry’s back stiffens. “So you figured out my name and can read the newspapers. Big whoop.”

“Your favorite book as a kid was the Runaway Dinosaur,” Len says. “You have no space to talk about who can and cannot read.”

“…how do you know that?”

“I told you, kid,” Len says. “Ghosts. Specifically, this one.”

He nods permission at Nora, who’s only been bouncing around waiting for her cue. She steps forward, solidifying.

Well, mostly solidifying; she’s not used to having mass. She’s still translucent and incorporeal. But she’s back on the visible spectrum.

“Mom?” Barry croaks.

“Oh, baby,” she says, holding out her arms to him. “My beautiful boy – look how you’ve grown! I’m so proud of you – so proud –”

“If this is some sort of trick –” Barry says, but his eyes are wide and glassy with tears.

“No trick, baby,” she says. “I’m sorry; I was the one who told Len it was you. I figured it out when you were fighting – I had to get him to stop shooting at you, and he wouldn’t listen if I didn’t tell him –”

“You…” Barry swallows. “You can’t be real. Some sort of holographic projection.”

“Len, could you go away for a minute?” Nora asks. “I want to talk to my son in private.”

Len sighs and walks over to a nearby tree. For good measure, he also closes his eyes, covers his ears, and starts loudly humming something. He’s pretty sure it’s “Mama Said There’d Be Days Like This”, but he can’t help his sense of humor.

He starts in surprise when a hand falls on his shoulder, hand dropping automatically to his gun.

“Sorry!” Barry yelps.

Len turns to face him.

The kid’s been crying. He’s one of those unfairly attractive criers, who gets a bit of a red face and tear tracks down his cheeks and maybe a little bit of swelling in the eyes, nothing like the snot-nosed bawling that Lisa used to do when she was a kid. “Um,” he says. “Mom says you can help her – if I wanted to hug her?”

Len refrains from rolling his eyes and pushes the life into her until she shimmers almost solid.

Barry falls into her arms with a choked-off sob.

“Don’t mention this to anybody,” Len says grouchily. “Either of you!”

“Thank you,” Barry says, still clutching at his mother. “Thank you.”

“I told you he’s not so bad,” Nora says, her own face similarly wet.

“I’ll have you know I’m very bad,” Len says. “Liar, thief, murderer, supervillain – probably going to go steal something right after we finish this little chat –”

“I can’t let you keep stealing whatever you want, whenever you feel like it,” Barry objects, pulling away just enough to twist to look at Len without actually letting go of Nora. “That needs to end.”

“Uh, yes, you can let me do it,” Len says. “You just don’t want to.”

“Couldn’t you just stop?”

“No. I’m a supervillain now. I like what I do. The adrenaline, the thrill of the chase – same reason you keep running after guys like me. I love this game, and I’m very good at it.”

“Go play it somewhere else, then!” Barry exclaims.

“I take my ghosts with me when I do,” Len says. Barry’s arms curl tighter around his mother’s waist. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Besides, this city is my home. I ain’t leaving it because you’ve got moral qualms about my chosen profession.”

“Can’t we find a compromise or something?” Barry asks. “I can’t just let you be.”

“I’m not expecting you to,” Len says patiently. “I’m going to keep stealing, you’re going to keep trying to stop me, the best man wins. You make me up my game. I like being a supervillain, but to be a supervillain, you need a good superhero.” He grins. “Like I said. Adrenaline.”

Barry can’t help but smile back. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “I guess I kind of see your point. But one thing – from here on out, no one else dies. If you’re as good as you say you are, you don’t have to kill anyone to get what you want.”

“That’s true,” Len says, and sighs. “Fine, agreed. I’ve mostly given up the killing anyhow, unless they’ve explicitly tried to kill me recently.”

“Really?”

“It just makes more ghosts,” Len says. “There’s been a disturbing increase in them lately.”

“…really?”

Len shrugs. It’s not really Barry’s problem. “So do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” Barry says. “You don’t kill anyone, I fight you – why do we have to fight?”

“Fun.”

“…having a nemesis who doesn’t kill people would be kind of cool,” Barry concedes. "Not going to lie about that."

“I know, right?” Mick says, stepping out from the trees with a bit of a scowl. It took him a while to find them; Lisa must have insisted on cracking the armored car first. “Just like in the comics.”

“Yeah, just like – holy crap, I’m a living comic book.”

“Are you just realizing that?” Len asks. "Now?"

“It’s not the superhero stuff,” Barry says. “It’s more – I’ve been having this problem – there’s this girl, and I’ve been – wow. I’m an asshole.”

Len arches an eyebrow.

“I’ve maybe kinda been treating her like she’s my love interest instead of a person,” Barry says, wincing.

“Barry,” Nora says disapprovingly.

���I’ll be better now!”

“Good.”

“God, Mom,” he says, turning to pull her in close again. “I just – I’ve missed you so much. Mom. Oh, mom…”

“My beautiful boy,” she says, embracing him in return and kissing his cheek. “My beautiful, beautiful boy…”

Barry sniffs. “Can – will you let me see her again?” he asks Len.

“I was planning on sending her along with you as a good faith gesture on my part of the deal,” Len says dryly. “But if you’d prefer to settle for just a no-killing pact…”

“Wait, what? You are?”

Len shrugs. “She’s been moping a lot recently,” he says, understating the situation. She'd fallen into a depression about eight months into the coma and refused to leave his house for weeks and weeks. “I’ve given her enough juice that she should be able to stick around for a while, as long as she stays invisible – you’ll be able to hear her, talk to her, but seeing her…well, you can probably see her in mirrors and stuff. Ghosts can do that easier for some reason. But not all the time like now, or she'll run out.”

“That’s fine,” Barry says. He’s crying again, little sobs and heaving breaths as he tries to keep control. “That's totally fine. She can stay invisible. I don't mind. Thank you. I can’t even begin - I - just – thank you.”

“Just remember you owe me one,” Len says flippantly.

“I owe you a lot more than that,” Barry says, sounding entirely sincere.

Len hates sincerity. It makes him uncomfortable. He looks around. “Don’t suppose you can give me a ride back to the city?” he asks.

“Oh! Yeah. Sure. Uh, I can only take one of you at a time, though,” he says, glancing at Mick.

“S’fine,” Mick says tolerantly. “I’ll float along.”

“Float – wait, you’re a ghost, too?”

Mick smirks.

“But you’re so solid!”

“Lenny would’ve have trouble marrying me if I wasn’t,” Mick says.

Barry’s nodding, and then – “Wait. Before or after?”

Mick laughs.

[cystus-the-malignant]

A Bit of A Sillier Editorial (A.K.A I wanna laugh at 40K people trying to fit inside a sedan.)

So, you’re a good, law abiding, non heretical member of the Holy Imperium of Man, and you want to take a drive, but you may have been drinking too much, the question is 

WHO DO YOU LET DRIVE?

I’ll be covering a few races, the primarchs, and maybe a god or two

Sanguinius: You fucking let that fabulous angel boy drive you. He won’t even allow you to waste your own gas money, he’ll summon some gorgeous solid gold chariot pulled by giant eagles, and while your flying to your destination he’s nursing your drunkeness back to a state of normalcy. Let him drive you always.

Guilliman: If you let him drive your car, you’re radio will be either set to a military frequency or classics, either way, do not touch that dial. Every traffic law will be obeyed to the T, and anyone caught not doing the same will be pulled over by Guilliman and punished exactly the way they should be according to Imperium laws. It’ll probably be boring, but you’ll live. Plus he might share war stories, so that’s always fun. Wouldn’t be my first choice, but sure, let him drive you.

Horus: Pre heresy Horus will be waiting outside with a car that isn’t yours with dimmed glass so the sun doesn’t bother your eyes you drunk. He’ll allow you to pick the radio station no matter what you like, you can even bring your CDs. The car itself is super nice, and he knows when you want to talk and when you want to sing along to the music. Its a nice, if short trip. Let him drive you but don’t get too attached to him. Post heresy Horus is a pile of dust, and therefore cannot drive.

Mortarion: For the love of all that is holy do not let him drive. If he shows up in his 99% rust pickup truck, do not get in, you will get tetanus. If he gets in your car, there is a good chance it will disintegrate before you reach your destination. However, if it does make it, and you do find yourself enjoying his company, he will actually be a fairly pleasant driver. He doesn’t follow all of the laws, but you will endure. The radio has either a plethora of various death and black metal CDs in it, or he’s using an MP3 player. Either way, if you don’t like your music loud, angry, and fast, you won’t enjoy the music. Conversations will either be fucking depressing as all hell, or some sort of fascinating rambling about chemical reactions and how to improve your endurance. Don’t let him rive you, but if forced, hope for the best.

Lorgar: Lorgar shows up at your house ready to use your own car. Once in he makes sure your comfortable, then puts the radio to some sort of religious station. He’ll talk your ear off about the emperor, and you probably won’t get to say much. The ride itself is pretty relaxing, but nothing to exciting. Yeah sure, let him drive you.

Angron: NO. DO NOT. IF YOU ASK ANGRON TO DRIVE YOU ONE OF THREE THINGS HAPPENS. Either he shows up to your house, breaks your car in half and beats you to death with the two halves, shows up, gets in your car, loses his shit half way through and tears the engine block through the dashboard and beats you to death with it, or he shows up in some giant ass monster truck that is blaring thrash metal at a sound so loud your house’ windows shatter. You will die no matter what. Do not even try to call Angron about getting a ride.

Jaghatai Khan: Do you like breaking every speed limit, running red lights, stop signs, and making it to your destination in two minutes even if its 500 miles away? If yes, Let The Khan drive. If not, do not, under any circumstances, tell him you even THINK you want to go for a drive. If he shows up with his bike, you will literally see the universe move slower than you are, you will probably be vaporized by the wind blowing past you. If you take your car, he has somehow already modified it so that its top speed is 5000 miles per second. You will go around the planet 50 times, listening to thrash and speed metal while screaming that you’re going to crash. Unless you are crazy, never mention ANYTHING to do with driving in his general vicinity.

Magnus: Pre heresy Magnus doesn’t have his own car, but he happily drives yours for you. You CAN listen to your own music, but Magnus reaaally wants to show off this new band he just found that has Psykers using  the warp for instruments instead of traditional instruments. Let him play that band. Do it. Don’t you make him feel any worse than he already does. I don’t care if you hate how it sounds you tell him its amazing god damnit. If you guys talk, it will be the most amazing conversation you’ve ever had. You will be able to chat about literally anything, and he can talk about it just as passionately. Let that big red boy drive you forever. Post Heresy Magnus tries to fit in your car, only barely manages, and half way through fucks up your shocks. He offers to fix them at some point and in the meantime teleport the both of you via the warp. Don’t let him drive, you will be eaten by a daemon.

Fulgrim: N O. Fulgrim is going to be high on something no matter what. He will drive you both into a tree and he’ll somehow survive while your dead. There is no good outcome, do not call him for a ride.

Lion El’Jonson: If you manage to get a hold if him, he’ll simply either say yes or no, nothing more. He’ll arrive exactly five minutes later, and will use his own car. The radio has been removed. He says nothing. He takes the quickest route possible and drops you off saying nothing. Let him drive you, it’ll just be overly silent.

Leman Russ: For all that is holy, do NOT. Either you have to ride on a giant fucking wolf, and are in constant fear it will eat you, a fucking tank that will eventually lead you both into battle, or he will get in your car, stink it up to high fucking hell, leave blood and hair everywhere and OH GOD IS THAT FENRISIAN ALE ON HIS BREATH?! If you do somehow manage to survive, the radio station will have viking metal. Because of fucking course it will.

Rogal Dorn: If you call Rogal Dorn for a ride, one of two things will happen. He will show up at your doorstep with an entire military escort, your ride is that giant fucking armored tank.You will make it, but you won’t enjoy it. OR he will show up, silently modify your car into a Fucking APC, and then drive you. If you take your car, no, if he uses his own, go ahead, you’ll be safe no matter what happens along the ride.

Konrad Curze: When you call Konrad for a ride, there will be no sound on the other side of the phone except for breathing. When you hang up and turn around he will be right behind you. He doesn’t have a key. You never gave him a key. You also never gave him your address. He points to your car, he walked there that quick. He never speaks a single word. The radio is utterly silent. If you speak, you die. If anyone even so much as goes a fraction over the speed limit, or breaks any traffic laws, they will be mercilessly pursued, drug out of their cars, and torn apart and strung up on their hood. You will witness at least 5 deaths, need immediate therapy, and will likely have to change addresses, and names. Do not ask for a ride.

Perturabo: Will scream at you the entire time, tell you why his car is much better than both yours AND Dorn’s and will eventually drive to Dorn to rub that in. You will be forgotten, and never arrive at your destination. If the radio plays anything, it will be the edgiest, most emo “crying linkin park lyrics into my pillow” music you have ever heard. Don’t associate with Perturabo to begin with.

Alpharius Omegon: You don’t actually have his phone number. You thought you did, but you don’t. Weird.

Ferrus Manus: If you ask for a ride, you will be told to wait. If you listen, you can hear him working on your car. When he calls back to say he’s ready, you’ll come outside to find your car perfected. It may not be pretty, but this car is the pinnacle of efficiency. The radio is your choice, he doesn’t mind. Go ahead, ask him for a ride, you’ll get a kickass car out of it.

Corvus Corax: When you ask for a ride, he’ll show up, not in a car, not ready to drive your own, but with a jetpack. You’re going flying. If you hate heights, no, if you don’t mind, go ahead, you’ll get where you need to be fast.

Vulkan: You didn’t even call Vulkan, he just knew you’d need a ride. So he showed up in the nicest car he could find, has the temperature set perfectly, the windows are tinted just right, your favorite band is playing at the exact right volume and he drives the path you like the most. You never asked for any of this, he just did it. The one downside is that the engine may spontaneously combust. Vulkan swears he has no idea why that happened. Let him drive you, he will be amazing.

Da Orkz: When you call the ork, he tells you he’ll be there by half past nug. You don’t know what nug is, but okay. When you finally go outside, you’ll find your car completely disassembled and reassembled into a Trukk. When you start driving you’ll think you’re going to die, and in fairness you probably will. The radio is set to either speed, thrash, or heavy metal, most likely the latter. If you survive, he’ll want teef as payment, and will happily punch your face for them. Do not ask for a ride.

Tau: The Tau show up exactly when they say they will, in a hybrid. They take the most practical route, obey every law, and don’t really speak much. It won’t be a fun ride, but it won’t be bad.  Let the blue vagina face drive you.

Khorne: Khorne reaches through the phone line, strangles you and then beats you with the phone. Why would you ever think that was a good idea.

Tzeentch: When you call Tzeentch you somehow end up agreeing to drive him. Just as planned. Don’t bother trying to fight it, it will happen no matter what you try.

Slaanesh: Slaanesh doesn’t even answer the phone. They can’t hear it over the orgy currently happening. Either way, they’d be too high to drive, and you’d probably end up having sex in the back seat anyways.

Nurgle: Nurgle gives you a roguh time of when he will be over. Shows up a bit later, but that’s alright, he’s got that lovable grin plastered on his face and he’s wearing that ridiculous Hawaiian shirt. He picks you up in his old as all fuck sedan that barely works. Your drive will be a bit smelly, but that’s alright, Papa is great company either way. It’s a slow drive, but that’s what you wanted anyways. The radio is set to something relaxing. You may contract super cancer, but its a small price to pay to hang out with that swell guy. Let Nurgle drive you around no matter what.

BONUS ABBADON: Abbadon agrees to drive you, in fact he hypes it up as the greatest car ride ever. It will never fail, it will be the single best few minutes of your life. When he shows up he has no arms. He says he has no idea how this could have happened. Why are you even talking to Failbaddon in the first place?

[ittousagi]

We Especially Need Your Help This Week

You likely have noticed that over the last month we have repeatedly been asking for donations to cover some of our bills, such as our rent, power, and car payment bills. And we have had some donations that helped us with some bills, but we had to move money around to pay an overdue power bill (needed to keep the power connected), which led to our missing payment on a crucial credit card bill (which now is overdrawn) and taking funds from a very late car payment and an upcoming auto insurance auto-withdrawal.

So now, with our next month’s rent bearing down upon us, we have no money to take care of both the rent and our overdue bills. So we need your help to get the money to pay our bills. 

As explained in our July post quoted below, by employment conditions and compensation are both poor and in flux, looking forward to improve. But where we are financially right now, we need your help to get us past our overdue bills so that we can move forward to that brighter future.

And we need your help this week more than ever. The September rent is due on Friday, but several bills are very much overdue. Our car payment needs about $340, the overdrawn credit card needs about $150, our auto insurance needs about $110, we need about $40 to get gas for our car, and we’re going to need about $500 for our rent. 

This brings us to a total of about $1140 that we need to collect this week to pay our bills. And we need your help to collect that $1140

Please help us collect this money.

You can help us by telling all of your friends and sharing this post with whomever you can. You can even better help by donating some money to our cause. You can donate to us through PayPal to ittousagi@hotmail.com.

Please help us by sharing this and donating what you can.

Below the ---[Read More]--- line is our original late July donation-asking post which describes the circumstances that have led to much of our financial struggle. Please read it (if you like) and, again, donate to help us if you can.

Thank You!

Help Us Survive the Summer!

Hello all! If you’re reading this, it means a) you are awesome human beings b) that times are rough and my partner and I, for various job-related reasons (and non-job reasons, like tires being slashed in the night), are not going to make it through the rest of this month and into August without help.

Now, in the spirit of attempted brevity and clarity (and because technical errors caused me to lose the original version of this post), I am going to give the current goal and donation info, along with a handy, albeit not terribly handsome, thermometer graphic below. Details will be under a “read more” cut since explaining the state of the residential care industry and what being a Direct Support Professional (DSP) is like definitely takes more than a sentence or two. So -

Current Goal: $944 ($200 will buy us time on power and $321 will pay the deferred and currently due amounts - we currently have $50 out of the minimum $200)

Current Deadline: IMMEDIATE (we didn’t make our deadline on this fundraiser, so the most recent paycheck went entirely to the late rent and we now have two late bills and one due Wednesday August 23, after which our power will be shut off if we don’t have the funds collected and in the bank. there is not another paycheck before then so this fundraiser is it.)

Total Goal: $1,298 (includes rent and utilities, including deferments on power bill)

Donate: via Paypal using ittousagi@hotmail.com as the e-mail address

Also, thank you so so much for the boosts and donations given already.

Note: I have to update this graphic manually, so - last update: 4:35 pm on Tuesday, August 22. Progress $380/$944

This explanation is a bit hard to give because I cannot give details (privacy for clients and company mandated not naming and shaming the company, although they all have pretty similarly bad working conditions for the DSPs), but welcome to, Wow this is really kind of terrible even before the possible changes to insurance coverage in the United States (by which I mean if those changes go through, literally everyone who uses a DSP for whatever reason will have a “pre-existing condition” and thus can be denied insurance and thus be denied access to a DSP).

Now, the situation we’re in is because of both immediate happenings and because of continuing problems with the industry (I am counting on y’all being too lovely to do the why don’t you get a different job response because long periods of unemployment are terrible, as is the recovery from them).

For the immediate happenings, one care client and their family are basically not in need of services for two weeks spread over two different paychecks (the second/final one for July and the first one for August). They are not dropping services, simply doing things and causing results that are not at all atypical for working as a DSP (making up an example, there are no provisions in the way employment, including wages, work as a DSP if, say, a client/client’s family want to retain your services but go on a two week vacation out of state). A second client has dropped services altogether, so a new, well-matched client needs to be found and that is causing a further dent in pay. It is also a harder proposition because serving that new client also has to be compatible with the current, continuing client, both in direct scheduling matters (start and end time and drive time) and in other matters (for example, there are no-scent policies for DSPs and on top of that a client may have a no smoking rule, so a client who regularly smokes indoors is going to cause issues if the client directly after them cannot have lingering cigarette smoke brought into their house on the DSP’s clothes).

On less immediate happenings (pretend I included the slashed tire in stuff that’s happening immediately or just happened), the DSP field has and has had major issues for quite a while now. A statement of the impact on people served by DSPs due to industry wide problems can be found at this link. And, to make a vast understatement, that information is very very accurate. My partner and I are living it right now and will end up contributing to the employee turnover rate if we can’t at least get through upcoming bills.

There may be some exceptions that are a little less bad, but in our particular case (and I can’t even comment on the size of this company because that is actually kind of enough to figure out which one it is, since I’ve also mentioned we’re in the U.S.), there is no kind of reimbursement for travel or a pay rate that accounts for the gas costs (and car maintenance costs) involved in the job. And those costs are not simply driving to and from each client’s house (although that can add up on its own). Depending on what services a client and their family need and want, a DSP might drive them to the grocery store, drive to the grocery store and buy the groceries for them, drive the client and a visiting relative around town (or around a multi city metro area), drive them to therapy, drive them to a cinema to meet up with friends or to go with just the DSP as company (with the DSP potentially then having to provide the ticket cost themselves so they can physically stay with the client), or whatever else they may want and need. Again, with everything coming out of the DSP’s own pocket with no reimbursement and with no wage to match.

And that is just the matter of gas costs (and wear and tear on your own personal vehicle, with only your own personal insurance on it). Even sticking to bare bones everything (and ignoring worn out clothing that is literally falling apart, food, etc), the necessary costs of getting and keeping the job also include phone service (for basically being on-call all the time and also for logging arrive and depart times even though paperwork done on your own time for no pay is also required), auto insurance, and internet service (all e-mails must be noticed immediately). And, again, the job does not account for any of that. Or even the need to just meet survival needs.

I don’t know if I’ve said enough or too much but I am really, really hoping people will be understanding and kind and help us make it through the month (because, hey, being housed is also a requirement for getting and keeping the job and also often for being able to use food banks, which are often very not compatible with standard job schedules and certainly not back to back care clients). Thank you to any and every one who has read this far and given us this much time already. Fingers crossed and thank you again.

[marquetteglobal]

The Down Under Diaries: Doing Journalism Abroad - Andrew Goldstein

4.5 million people in this city and I’ll have interviewed maybe 20 of them by the time I leave. Four months and hours upon hours of work, and I’ve covered about .00004% of the story possibilities. Makes me think.

Somewhere along the line, I turned into the kind of person that just can’t take extended vacations.

Please don’t ask what’s wrong with me because I’ll tell you right now that I don’t know. It wasn’t always like this. In middle school, I used to be able to play video games for eight hours straight without giving a second thought to the beautiful day that was just squandered. Now it’s the opposite; I need to either do something productive or have plans to do something productive every day.

Besides making me the worst retiree of all-time in 50 or so years, this constant need to do stuff has also made me uniquely unsuited to studying abroad. Semesters in other countries were made for people who love wandering around with no particular plans. That goes double for Australia, the most nonchalant, chill place on Earth, a country where “no worries” might as well be the national motto.

I don’t do “no worries” very well. I’m a lifelong East Coast native and a journalist. Being on deadline and power walking through crowds of people is kind of how I prefer to live. It’s such a strong inclination that the thought of NOT rushing around for a few months was my main deterrent to studying abroad.

Eventually, I settled on doing the Snapchat journalism project. (See the stories here if interested.) There were a lot of good reasons to do it, but the most compelling one was also the most selfish — it let me keep up my old life. I could look at the work that my friends in the Marquette Wire were doing and not feel totally guilty about failing to do the same amount of stuff.

It might not be immediately apparent, but journalism has a couple of unique perks. There are a lot of downsides to being a reporter– low pay, long hours, travel, declining job prospects, etc — but one irrevocable upside is that you have license to talk to anybody about anything. Email a person, say you’re a journalist, and the chances of that person telling you his or her life story just went drastically up. You can ask almost any question to anyone you’re curious about and are likely to get an honest response.

(That paradigm is different for reporters covering politics or other subjects of that ilk, but we’ll leave that discussion for another day.)

This makes doing journalism a wonderful way to get to know a place quickly. I’ve had Snapchat subjects speak with me about everything from gay culture in Melbourne to Aboriginal artwork to antique maps of the world. One interview subject in Townsville picked me up in his car and gave me an impromptu tour of the city before going to his house for an interview. People have nearly as many questions for me even though we’ve barely known each other for 10 minutes.

It’s the perfect situation for somebody who has a deep curiosity about the way things and people work, but is often too introverted to ask. I’ll forever envy those who feel totally comfortable walking up to strangers and talking to them, because it’s something I don’t think will ever feel totally natural. Doing journalism lets me shed those usual feelings of awkwardness; in fact, it demands that I do.

Aboriginal artist and electric didgeridoo inventor Stan Yarramunua was the subject of a Snapchat profile. He was kind, interesting and thoughtful; just like most people I’ve come across in Melbourne.

That brings me to my other pet project for the semester: a longform profile story about Marquette basketball player Harry Froling and his journey from Australia to America. There was nothing to indicate that this story was going to be anything close to the 3,000-word monstrosity that is now on campus newsstands. Initially, I was just going to visit Harry’s prep program for a few hours during a weekend trip in early March, talk to his coach and write a short feature. Filing a story from Australia would be a nice thing to say I did, if nothing else.

Section by section, the story expanded beyond that narrow scope. One of Harry’s coaches told me about his short training stint with a professional team, so that had to be at least a paragraph or two. It turned out that Harry’s brother Sam was at the program too and he gave me a bunch of great childhood stories; some of those had to make it in. All of a sudden, it seemed like this piece was turning into something more than just a curiosity.

Two puzzle pieces remained missing: Harry and his parents. I had everything around the periphery of the story, but the essential details needed to come from them. After failing to find Harry’s dad’s email address anywhere on the internet, I resorted to one of my old tricks: look him up on LinkedIn and send him an invite explaining who I was.

(Pro tip: If you ever want to get in contact with ANYONE and you can’t find an email address, search on LinkedIn. It works amazingly well.)

Harry’s dad said that he and his wife would love to be interviewed and what time would work best for a phone call? I always prefer to get my interviews in person, so I looked up where the Froling family lived. It was approximately two-thirds of the way up Australia’s coast, about a three-hour flight from Melbourne.

One deep breath later, the reply came tumbling off my keyboard and on to the screen: “actually, I was hoping to fly up there and talk in person.”

Fast forward another three weeks and I’m in the living room of the Froling family’s home, which is built on the slopes of a mountain on the edge of town. Whatever I’d come to Townsville expecting to find, the Frolings gave me way more. Pictures from years ago, details about Harry’s recruitment, interesting stories about the father’s professional career; everything. It could hardly have been better if they’d shown me a pre-produced documentary.

Harry’s childhood basketball court, one of the many places his dad showed me. Most of the courts have no air conditioning and the temperature is usually over 85 degrees in the summer.

That left Harry as the last necessary interview. My editor and I waited until March Madness ended, and then contacted athletics to set up a time. Because of the volume of media requests that men’s basketball usually gets, it can be difficult to book players for an interview. Between practices and classes, there’s often not a lot of wiggle room in the schedule even if you do get through.

When athletics got back the next day and told me to call at 1 p.m. on Wednesday, it was a huge relief ... until I did the math and realized that this translated to 4 a.m. Melbourne time. But what are you going to do? It’s quite possible that 1 p.m. was the only time Harry had available, so I set a bunch of early alarms and went to sleep.

Six hours later, I woke up and checked my phone. 4:02 a.m. Not only was I late for the interview, but the phone alarm had probably been sounding on and off for the last hour, which my roommate probably found soothing enough. (Brendan, if you’re reading this, sorry.)

After grabbing my phone, iPad, laptop, notebook and pen in 40 seconds, I ran out to my apartment’s common area and called. Everything about that interview felt like it happened in slow motion. None of his answers or my questions are committed to memory, nor do I recall passing out right there on the couch some amount of time later. The only thing that I can vividly recall is waking up to radiant sunlight, panicking about sleeping through the interview all over again, then logging on to my iPad and seeing a 25-minute recording in my files. Whew.

From there, it was a lot of working sessions in a lot of cafes — because apparently I’m a walking writer stereotype now — before the piece got done. Part of it was written in Townsville, parts were written in Melbourne, it was finished on a plane to Tasmania and edited into a final draft at 2 a.m. in Wellington, New Zealand. And of course, it was assembled in the basement of Johnston Hall at Marquette, the world’s best university. (Fine, I’m a bit biased.)

Now I’m writing this blog post in Sydney, although it’s time to wrap this up. Bondi Beach is calling and I kind of want to give this whole “no worries” thing a try.

You know, a fella could really get used to living like this.

The conclusion of the Down Under Diaries, including some of Andrew’s favorite random travel stories, will be out in a couple weeks. Thanks for reading!