#i hope his family sues the ever living shit out of that hospital for the gross incompetence

[moki-dokie]

furries would not be where they are today if not for dragoneer. even before he created FA, he was carving out spaces where the tiny niche that were furries could feel safe and have fun. one dude. you can trace practically every modern furry community back to one individual guy and the relentless work he did. given how tied to the lgbt+ community furries have become, i sincerely hope his name is one that becomes immortalized in queer history. what a fucking legacy.

[devondespresso]

I Can Only Hope Now (STWG Daily Prompt: Claudia)

G | 1269 words | ao3 link | cw: absent father, brief references to Steve’s absent parents

Thank you @saradika-graphics for the dividers! 💛

Claudia Edine Henderson never wanted to get married. Not really.

But she wanted kids, so that meant either getting married or seeing if the daycare was hiring.

Anthony Laurence Goldman wanted a family. She thought that meant the same thing, so they married.

And it was good. They had a beautiful baby boy, Dustin Clarence Goldman, healthy save for a defect with his bones. No collarbones, and the high chance he’d need a little extra medical attention down the line, but he’d still be living long and happy, and she couldn’t ask for more. 

Eventually, their baby's cries stopped waking both of them up in the middle of the night. It was just her, because mothers had a sixth sense for it. 

No sleep, no time, no awareness of what she let it do to her until her mother called, apologizing for the odd hour, and she realized she couldn’t tell the difference between four in the morning or six at night. After that, her mother stayed a while, helped with the baby when Anthony was at work.

Anthony helped when he could, but his real specialty was money. He knew how mortgages and insurance worked, knew how banks and credit card companies stayed in business, knew how to get the lowest bill from the hospital, so having to pay out of pocket for Dusty's somehow only ‘cosmetic surgeries’ wouldn't leave their wallets dry.

He knew how to juggle all that convoluted adult shit that scared the living daylights out of her. It was like it came so easy to him.

Maybe it didn't. She'd never really know.

It was his domain, and he preferred it that way, for years and years until it started looking like family was more like the backdrop for his dreams, instead of the subject of them.

She talked to him, lord knows she talked to him about it, but each new month of trying faded back into three of forgetting.

Dustin grew old enough to ask. Just enough words to get the question across. Where did Daddy go?

They separated a few months, hoping he’d miss his son enough to work with her on this. 

She gave him the ultimatum that turned into a divorce.

He agreed happily, saying that it would prove how much weight he was really pulling. That he didn’t need custody.

Claudia Edine Henderson and Dustin Clarence Henderson moved back in with her mother, and for three more years she figured the rest of it out. She found a job at a bank, learned the ins and outs of the business while balancing her own funds separate from both her ex-husband and her mother.

When Dusty was old enough to bike to and from school on his own, they finally moved out to a quiet small town, far away from Anthony. Dustin found friends so fast, faster than she ever could have hoped, and she was able to tell him everything.

She had no idea if she made the right choice for him. It was the right choice for her, and in a way that probably made her a better mother for him, but she could never be sure if that distance made any of it easier on him. Sometimes she wishes she did more to bring him into their family, offered to help with any of those things that scared her too much to do herself.

Sometimes she wondered if Dustin would ever resent her for it. If he didn’t already.

But then one night, Dustin was out way past curfew, without calling. Karen and Sue couldn’t find their boys either, so the three of them ran up to the station. Ms. Flo, the angel, called the chief himself immediately and gave them a spot in the waiting room.

An hour or so later, the chief showed up with all three boys in tow.

They were all grounded, no question, but before she and Dusty started heading home, he begged her for five minutes to talk with his friend in the chief's car. She relented, and Dustin ran to the passenger seat of the car, where a teen boy was leaning on the door and resting his eyes.

Dusty opened the door and the boy nearly fell out of the car, followed by a very loud “Henderson!” that made her chuckle.

Hopper said it was the Harrington’s son, and his next stop would be taking the kid to Hawkins General Hospital for ‘a concussion and a half’.

They both had to get going, and despite his anger earlier, Harrington Jr. said goodbye with a smile and a ruffle of Dustin’s cap. And when Dusty hopped into the front seat with stars in his eyes and the energy of a successful campaign, he talked about Steve Harrington.

Steve was awesome. Steve was like the tank their party needed. Steve was a badass until he got his ass kicked, which apparently wasn’t even fair anyway, because Steve would have totally won if Bobby? Billy? Was playing fair. Steve was strong, Steve was cool, Steve told him how to do his hair, of all things, which was also apparently a secret. Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.

She had to be wary, just a little, because that was her job. But even more than that, she wanted to be hopeful.

So the next day, when Dustin asked if he could bike to the hospital to check on Steve, even though he was grounded, she decided to make an exception, and they both took the car.

Hopper’s car was still camped out in the parking lot, but before she could look for the right cars around, Dustin dashed again to Steve’s room, almost slamming the door open.

Dustin jumped on the bed before Steve could get a word in, let alone sit up to greet them, but the wide, if a bit confused, smile said it all.

Hopper offered the chair next to him for her to take a seat, and he filled her in properly on everything that happened. Most of the story was a better rehash of Dustin’s accounts with those in-betweens better filled, but the one thing that stayed perfectly consistent was Steve.

A new girl’s step brother got too rough with Sue's boy, Steve stepped in and started a regular fight, then step-brother grabbed a dinner plate and ended it. Step brother apparently fled after Steve wouldn’t get up, and the kids looked after him until Hop could get there. All four of them were worried, but Dustin by far the most.

She looked back to her boy, trying to get his hat back from Steve who held it high above their heads. Dustin stood to grab it, and Steve clearly planned on throwing it before Dustin managed to snatch it and punch him in the arm with a victorious yell.

She couldn’t help but smile. Couldn’t help but let them stay until Steve was discharged with a stack of paper and a call home to make sure he wouldn’t be alone. Couldn’t help but leave an open invite to their home, though ideally after Dustin’s grounding was over.

After a few weeks, he joined them for dinner, and never asked why they had to hunt for a third chair to the table.

And another few weeks after that, Steve stopped by to drive Dusty to the Snowball, coming inside because Dustin can’t get his hair just right.

And a month later, when he joined them for Christmas, Claudia could be comfortable in her hope. She could think that, at least going forward, Dusty would have everything he needed.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Dead, broke

Of all the moving, wrenching accounts of death during the pandemic, Molly McGhee’s “America’s Dead Souls,” for The Paris Review stands out: haunting, furious and sad, an rude awakening of the status quo that denies any possibility of inaction.

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2021/05/17/americas-dead-souls/

I’ve known McGhee a long time, since she worked on my book INFORMATION DOESN’T WANT TO BE FREE from McSweeneys, a professional association we renewed when she landed at Tor.

During the pandemic crisis, I’ve had two different connections to her: on the one hand, the consummate professionalism of her emails as we published my novel ATTACK SURFACE in the middle of the lockdown.

On the other hand, I knew her through her wrenching and deeply personal Twitter account of the personal tragedies she’s endured over the same period. Her Paris Review essay brings those tragedies into sharp focus and uses them to pin a huge and heretofore ill-defined feeling.

McGhee’s mother died during the crisis, but the death was the culmination of years of hardship: “[earning] less than $10,000 a year. Suffering from debilitating depression while caring for her aging parents…chronically unemployed, undermedicated, and overstressed.”

Her mother’s debts were on public display through searchable databases, and her life was haunted by both con artists and bill collectors who carpet-bombed her with calls, letters and emails.

She was too poor to fight back: her wages were garnished by the IRS “for back taxes calculated from a years-old misfiling they refused to correct.” McGhee sent her months of her salary, but it wasn’t enough.

She had no answer for her mother’s rhetorical questions, “Why are these people harassing me? What good does it do them?”

Because the answer is obvious and insufficient: “The people in power don’t care if we live or die, as long as they get paid.”

It only took two days after McGhee’s mother died for her creditors to begin harassing her for her mother’s debts. The state of Tennessee seized the house, but Wells Fargo expected her to make good on the mortgage.

The hospital where McGhee’s mother died wanted a quarter of a million dollars. McGhee, not even 26, was staring down the barrel of the weapon that had been trained on her mother, the inheritor of nothing but debt.

The debt-machine is efficient. Bill collectors found out about McGhee’s mother’s death before McGhee’s own family got word. And they’re remorseless, immune to McGhee’s “pleading, bargaining, reasoning, denying, uploading, scanning, begging, faxing, and crying.”

McGhee compares it to Gogol’s “Dead Souls,” a surreal tale of a grifter named Chichikov who buys dead serfs’ souls to sell for profit.

It’s only surreal if you’ve never been in the debt system’s crosshairs, “where one day of lost wages can compound into houselessness.”

We live in a system of winners and losers. The winners’ winnings come from debt, shielded from the system’s cruelty by “professionalism and bureaucracy” that insulate them — and their functionaries — from “feelings of culpability, not to mention empathy or curiosity.”

Poor people have less money, but the system is firmly focused poor people, because people with money can defend themselves. When McGhee went into debt to hire a lawyer, a single letter on official letterhead instantly reduced all that debt by 90% — more than $250k, poof.

It’s expensive to be poor. Take Community Health Systems, one of the largest hospital chains in America. It sues the shit out of poor people. When those people can afford lawyers, CHS loses, because it is chasing debts it is not entitled to collect.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/18/unhealthy-balance-sheet/#health-usury

CHS itself owes $7.6 billion. It turned its first profit in 2020, thanks to hundreds of millions of dollars in state and federal subsidies, and its executives pocketed millions in “performance bonuses” for a performance that consisted of getting bailed out by the public.

The Trump stimulus handed trillions to the richest people and biggest companies in America. Those companies “leveraged up” their handouts to raise trillions more and went on spending sprees, buying up struggling businesses.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

They loaded these companies up with debt, declared “divi recaps” (where you take out a loan on a company you bought on credit and put that money in your own pocket as a “special dividend”) and crashed the companies, destroying jobs and communities.

Plutes know there are three kinds of debt: workers’ debts (which must be repaid), owners’ debts (to be “restructured” away) and government debt (not debt at all, but still handy for terrifying normies with stories of “mortgaging our kids’ futures”).

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/17/disgracenote/#false-consciousness

Forty years of this approach has turned the economy into a shambling zombie, dependent on the fiction that “consumer” debts — repackaged as bonds through financialization — will be repaid, somehow.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

As an ever-larger share of the world’s wealth has shifted from the workers’ side of the balance sheet to the owners’, the ability of workers to buy things to keep businesses afloat as vehicles for debt-leveraging has only declined.

Wage-theft and stagnation, unions in retreat, monopoly, monopsony, tax-preferencing for home-owners over renters, for capital gains over wages, spiraling housing, health and education costs, worker misclassification — wages are annihilated before they’re even deposited.

With no wages left over to fund consumption, there’s only debt, and as Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be repaid, won’t be repaid.” CHS can comfortably carry billions in debts, but the sick people it sues for $201 have to choose between rent and medical debt.

Every loan-shark knows how this works. The chump with $500 who owes you $500 and owes the bank $500 needs an incentive to pay you ahead of the bank. To assert the primacy of your claims, you need an arm-breaker.

The digital world has given us all kinds of fantastic new arm-breakers: digital repo men who can brick your car or your phone. It’s automated the once rare practice of evictions, creating eviction mills that run with devastating efficiency.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Creating a debt-instrument — a bond grounded in the payments from other peoples’ debts — requires that you convince investors and bond-rating agencies that your arm-breaker will terrorize the debtors into paying you instead of child-support or grocery bills.

“The cruelty is the point” isn’t ideology, it’s pure description. The system — an artificial life-form constituted as immortal colony organism that uses us as gut flora — runs on competing claims to your debt, and victory consists of terrorizing you more than any rival.

The financiers who practice leveraged buyouts destroy real businesses, ruin lives and hollow out communities. They are feted as “job creators.” The workers who must borrow to close the gap they leave are “deadbeats.” Leveraged buyouts are back, baby.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

If you fret that forgiving student loans and making college free will “saddle our kids with debt,” then you’ve been suckered.

Look. Replacing a system that starts all but the richest children with unserviceable debt with one that doesn’t is liberation, not bondage.

Since Reagan, we’ve been hiking tuition, killing deductions for interest, and shielding student debt from bankruptcy.That’s how you can borrow $79k, pay $190k, still owe $236k, and have 25% taken from every paycheck AND Social Security until you die.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid. Student debts do get forgiven, but only for those highly educated, (potentially) highly productive people who can prove that they have been so thoroughly destroyed by debt that they have no future.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/20/sovkitsch/#student-debt

And as McGhee reminds us, the tragedy isn’t merely that we educate people on the pretense of betting on America’s future, but really, the principle use that the system makes of the educated is as collateral for securitized loans.

If the arm-breakers who chased her mother wanted to understand that woman’s humanity, McGhee says they should start here:

“Her humor and her rage were unmatched. In the evenings, against the setting Tennessee sun, she liked to drink red can Cokes in the garden while snuffing cigarettes out against the yard’s ant colonies. She could reckon with anyone just by looking them in the eye. Men were terrified of her, rightfully so. She was sweet. In the last week of her life, when she couldn’t understand where she was or who she was talking to, she greeted everyone the same: ‘Hi, pal. Hope you’re doing okay. When can you come pick me up?’”

Take a second. Re-read that.

[official-wayward-keener]

Standin' in Front of You Sayin' I'm Sorry for that Night

@spideytorchweek 2021 Day 7: free day

The Spider is causing Johnny more problems, but after he kills an innocent, Johnny must find him even if it cost him his life. Peter did something he regrets and now he is getting pulled away from the man he loves.

Ao3 Link here

The Spider was getting on Johnny’s nerves as they fought. He just wanted to go home and sleep in his boyfriend’s arms but no he had to fight this villain known as the Spider. The spider kept choosing to annoy him and wrapping him up with his webbing before he slipped out and Johnny couldn’t do anything but hope that he could get home to get a hot shower before Peter got home.

~

No one knew that Johnny Storm was the Human Torch. It may have made things awkward for him because his boyfriend who he loved so much was the Spider. The same villain who he was fighting but he didn’t know that. Peter Parker, the boy that loved Johnny with all of his heart, was the villain who stole from the rich to give to the poor. Johnny probably would never know if Peter kept it hidden not wanting Johnny to get in trouble for his crimes. When they both were home, they cuddled not knowing that hours before the two of them had been fighting.

“Do you think that we will be together forever?” Peter asked.

“I think that we will be together forever,” Johnny said. “I can’t think of anything that would ever separate us.”

“I can think of a few things that could break us apart,” Peter said concerned.

“I would never leave you,” Johnny said.

“And I would never leave you,” Peter told him. Johnny smiled at him cuddling up to him not knowing that their days were numbered as a hero and a villain could not love each other for long.

~

It had been an accident. Peter had killed the man instead of just stealing from him. He had not meant to kill him but now the man was dead and the Fantastic Four were after him. He decided to lay low and spend more time with Johnny but Johnny was not around. He was gone more for work related events.

“I wish you could be home more,” Peter told him.

“Something major came up at work,” Johnny said.

“Maybe I can visit you at the shop sometime and we can have lunch,” Peter suggested.

“May you be when I am not busy,” Johnny said, figuring that Peter would be busy again with work in no time. He had a few slow weeks apparently and Johnny loved coming home to his boyfriend after a long day of hunting for the murderous spider. Maybe he would catch the spider before Peter was back to his normal schedule.

~

The news was on when Johnny came home as Peter watched the reporter talking about the Spider and how he killed Flash Thompson.

“Sad to hear,” Johnny said.

“Flash wasn’t a good guy.” was all Peter told him. Johnny didn’t care about that but Peter was acting nonchalant about what the villain did. Part of him wondered why Peter was even watching the news.

“I think that the Spider is guilty for what he did,” Betty Brant said. “We haven’t heard from him since and the Spider was a well known villain who never harmed people. I know Flash had a way of targeting people when we were in high school so maybe he tried to fight Spider and Spider forgot his own strength. Wouldn’t be the first time the Spider forgot his own strength as others have been injured including Invisible Woman and Iron Man.”

“All speculation on some stupid villian who probably just went to Canada or something to avoid punishment,” Peter said rolling his eyes and shutting off the TV.

“He was a well known villain who killed someone,” Johnny explained.

“And he will have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life. I hope he burns for his crime,” Peter said feeling the guilt come back and taking him over. Peter went to their room leaving Johnny to wonder what happened to make Peter so angry with the Spider.

~

Peter couldn’t take it any longer. He needed to get out and help those on the street again. He knew that the people at F.E.A.S.T missed the help that Spider dropped off so he went out. The only issue was that the Human Torch found him. The hero growled at him as he pushed him into the wall holding him there.

“You think you can control the world,” Johnny told him, annoyed at the man.

“I think I can help out the little people who don’t have much cause of big shots like yourself,” Peter said, pushing the man away. They fought for a bit neither winning the battle both full of hate for the other. Peter was mad that a hero could do nothing but stand by while Johnny was mad at how a villain could kill an innocent. It wasn’t until Peter had knocked Johnny down and started punching him that Johnny thought he saw the end. He finally faded into nothingness as Peter pulled off the mask and saw Johnny beaten under it. He looked at his hands offended by what he did.

“I killed him,” Peter said, feeling a tear falling as he tore off his mask and held Johnny until the police dragged him away from his love. Peter knew he would be facing punishment.

~

Peter sat in the cell as Sue Storm came in looking upset. He didn’t want to talk to her but he knew he was going to be hearing whatever she said even if he didn’t talk.

“They are talking about putting you away for life,” Sue told him. “What you did, it hurt my family and I don’t understand how anyone could forgive you for your crimes?” Peter knew she was right. “Except Stark who found out that you accidentally killed Eugene Thompson and has been bargaining for a plea deal for you.”

“I should burn for my crimes,” Peter said. Sue was surprised by what he said.

“Peter, you are being given a fresh start. I suggest you use it to be a better man than who you were before. You did a lot to my family and you… what you did to Johnny is unacceptable. I hope that I never see you again Peter Parker, because you don’t deserve this redemption in my mind,” Sue told him. Peter agreed with her and when Tony Stark and Steve Rogers later showed up Peter told them as much.

“It’s a second chance. Those don’t come often,” Steve told him.

“I don’t want a second chance if he isn’t in my life,” Peter said.

“Maybe he will be one day,” Tony said.

“Not if he is gone,” Peter said. Tony and Steve looked at him feeling bad.

“Don’t you want to be the person that he would have wanted you to be?” Steve asked. The truth was Peter wanted to be that person. He wanted to make Johnny proud even if Johnny wasn’t there anymore to see him. He thanked them as he took their deal knowing he was doing it all for Johnny Storm.

~

Johnny woke in pain as he looked around the room to find Ben sitting next to him watching TV. Peter would normally be next to him if something bad happened. Peter should have been here. He went to move but it all hurt.

“Don’t move. You have a few broken bones and a few cracked ribs. Spider throws a mean punch,” Ben said.

“Peter?” Johnny asked.

“Left town and isn’t coming back,” Ben said. Johnny froze. Peter wouldn’t have left town. Not without a reason. “The kid decided he wanted to get back with some girl, Mary Jane I think, and left you while you were in the hospital bed passed out. Sue is pissed at him and I think I heard Reed talk about how he was planning his death.”

“Peter wouldn’t have left without telling me,” Johnny said but Ben’s response didn’t change nor did his sisters or brother-in-laws as they told him the same story. Spider was being released into the custody of the Avengers according to Sue who told Johnny he took a plea deal.

“The little shit beat you up and the avengers took him in as one of their own,” Ben grumbled.

“Changing the branding and not telling the public either,” Johnny said as he saw Spider-Man on the cover of a magazine. The hero who was once the villain Spider. Johnny wanted to give him a piece of his mind but Sue suggested against it.

“I talked with him and I’m shocked he took the deal. He was acting as if it was the wrong punishment for him,” Sue said. “I don’t know if he feels sorry or if he regrets what he did but he will be living with it for the rest of his life now.” Johnny didn’t feel bad for it but he knew he needed to heal. Spider would get what he deserved and Johnny hoped he could give him a word.

~

“I know the drill,” Peter said in the comm for the millionth time. Part of his rehabilitation was patrolling and helping out people which Peter enjoyed. He just was constantly reminded that he was being tracked. Peter sat on the roof. He had thrown himself into being a hero but part of him wished he could apologize to Sue for taking her brother or find Johnny’s last resting place. Sue made it clear what had happened. Peter knew what he did. He would live with that forever.

“Didn’t know they let you out unsupervised,” a familiar voice said. Peter turned looking at the human torch. Now he was being haunted again by the boy who stole his heart and buried it six feet under.

“Not in the mood,” Peter said.

“Don’t say you aren’t in the mood,” Johnny said.

“I rather not be haunted by my past today so leave,” Peter muttered knowing it wouldn’t work. It never did.

“You want me to leave?” Johnny said. “Golden comes from the guy who attempted to kill me.”

“Killed you,” Peter corrected the fake Johnny. That caused the human torch to stop. “Don’t you think I have enough regret Johnny without seeing you every waking moment knowing I killed you. That I could have stopped. I lost control and it's my fault. I took the deal because I knew you wanted me to be a better person but some days I wonder if maybe I should have just stayed in the cell and rotted away like the criminal scum I was.” Johnny didn’t say anything as Peter swung away from him leaving him to wonder what Spider meant.

~

“Spider thinks I’m dead,” Johnny told Ben. Ben was surprised. Ben, unlike Reed and Sue, did not know who Spider was, only that he was now Spider-Man. He didn’t know the whole story.

“The kid thinks he killed you?” Ben said.

“Knew my identity too,” Johnny said.

“Sue said he found out who you were but she never said anything else,” Ben said. Johnny was annoyed. He just wanted to call Peter and rant to him about his day but Peter was gone. He couldn’t find him. He was half-tempted to ask May but he figured it was best not to get her involved.

“I’m going for a walk,” Johnny finally decided to leave Ben and throw on his jacket heading to May’s. May was home when he got there as he knocked on the door. She smiled and let him in.

“Have you heard from Peter?” He asked. May shook her head.

“He disappeared a while ago right when you got into the hospital. No one knows what happened. I heard you got mugged on the street and Peter found you,” May said.

“You haven’t heard from him either?” Johnny said.

“The occasional letter with no return address. He doesn’t normally stop by. Haven’t seen him in a long while. He is somewhere in New York though. He mentioned going to one of his favorite spots last week to think.

“Ben told me he was at the hospital with me,” Johnny said.

“From Peter’s letter, I assumed you were dead. He doesn’t talk about you much that he just regrets not being the boyfriend you deserved,” May told him. Johnny felt bad. Peter was blaming himself for Johnny getting injured. He also wondered why Sue and Reed told him one story about Peter which was false and where was Peter really in New York. Johnny decided to try and hunt him down if it was the last thing he did. Peter would face him over what he did and would explain why he really left.

~

The gazebo was normally empty at night. Peter had asked to go to the park and he knew he was being watched. He didn’t know who was watching him tonight as he sat looking at the water.

“Nice night we are having,” Johnny said. Peter wanted to scream at his inner demons.

“Not really. I gotta get up to fly out tomorrow,” Peter said.

“I’m not mad at you for not being able to protect me,” Johnny told him.

“What are you even talking about?” Peter asked, frustrated with his inner demons. “You think this is easy. Moving on is easy for me. It’s not easy. I can’t move on and here you keep popping up at random places and haunting me as if I weren’t the one to cause you pain.”

“You did nothing wrong, Peter,” Johnny said.

“Bullshit. You are dead, stop haunting me,” Peter said, starting to walk but Johnny followed.

“Peter, I’m not dead,” Johnny told him. Peter stopped almost frozen. “I survived what happened to me and I came back to my boyfriend gone and my family lying to me and suddenly the guy who did this to me is out trying to become a better person, but the worst of it was when I woke up and my boyfriend wasn’t by my side.” Peter turned and grabbed Johnny’s hand feeling for a pulse and took a deep breath before dropping it.

“Sue will kill me if she knew we saw each other,” Peter said.

“Sue has no right to decide who I see and who I don’t see,” Johnny said.

“I got to go. You should leave before whoever is watching me calls your sister up,” Peter let him know before he ran off leaving Johnny wondering why Peter was being followed and by who.

~

Johnny got home with more questions than answers. He found Sue on the couch annoyed.

“You couldn’t leave well enough alone,” Sue told him.

“What do you mean?” Johnny asked.

“You saw him today,” Sue said, spitting venom when she said him as if Peter’s name shouldn’t be spoken in their house.

“He thought I was dead,” Johnny said. “You let him believe that. You pushed him away from me.” Sue was frustrated then.

“I didn’t push him away from you, I was protecting you from the man who hurt you. From the man who beat you to a pulp within an inch of your life. You want to know the truth. Your boyfriend was Spider and when he was found having hurt his boyfriend, I decided it was time to intervene and keep you away from the man who hurt you, because I care about you,” Sue was mad and Johnny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Everything made sense now including Peter’s behaviors before the incident when he had more time on his hands.

“Peter is Spider?” Johnny said. ‘He will have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life. I hope he burns for his crime,’ Peter’s voice repeated in his mind. Johnny didn’t know why he never noticed it until that moment that Peter was guilty for his crime. He knew what he did was wrong and he felt bad. He felt bad for hurting Johnny.

“He is,” Sue told him. Johnny paused and walked out as Sue called for him. He turned to her and looked her straight in the eyes.

“I’m going to the Avenger’s Mansion. Don’t try and stop me because you will only upset me more,” Johnny said before turning back around and leaving.

~

Steve and Tony said it was a bad idea but Johnny didn’t care because he needed to talk to Peter. He needed to make sure Peter was okay. His boyfriend had been suffering for too long and now they needed to talk about everything. Peter was in his room which was messy like the room they had shared before Peter had disappeared and Sue moved Johnny back home.

“Peter,” Johnny said. Peter froze but turned not wanting to hear Johnny tell him that he was ashamed of him. This was the real Johnny. He could hear his heartbeat and he knew it was the same Johnny he onced lover and that probably hated him now. “Look I’m not mad. Sue finally told me everything and I know the truth now. I know how hard it's been for you. You had to live with this and pretend you were okay after you accidentally killed someone because you didn’t kill him on purpose. You never would have.”

“He was venom,” Peter said. Johnny froze. He knew about venom. For Peter to tell him this side of the story he knew that Peter really didn’t mean to hurt him. “He knew my identity but he promised not to tell. I thought I saw venom that night. I was a bit tipsy and because of that I accidentally killed Flash thinking he was venom. Then the other night I was so mad and you were there except I didn’t know and I punched too hard and I thought I killed you. I felt as if the world was getting me back for harming an innocent. Except it wasn’t because you were fine at the end and you came home. Well you came to a house. I ruined us just like I predicted.” Johnny sat next to Peter.

“You didn’t ruin us. I don’t trust you but I still love you. I don’t think I could ever stop loving you. I just don’t want you to blame yourself anymore because I am here for you if you need me. As a friend for now.” Peter nodded but didn’t say anything as they sat on his bed wondering if they would ever be able to trust each other again. Maybe they will with time or maybe they would never be together again. Whatever happened would happen though as they sat there in silence of the ruins of their relationship.

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Shaken

Chapter 2

Summary: MK wakes up in the hospital. If there's one thing he knows, it's that he's got to get away.

Trigger Warnings: hospital, referenced abuse, mentioned death

2990 words

“—just started freaking out—”

“—swear, if this is more monkey madness you’re putting him through—”

“—not.”

Words and voices faded in and out. What was going on? His head felt like it was going to explode. Everything was fuzzy, and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

Come to think of it, he probably shouldn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want them to know he was awake.

MK fought to keep his breathing even, just barely suppressing a groan.

He hadn’t escaped.

He was in the “hospital”, no doubt, completely surrounded by those fake shells of his friends. He had to get out of here.

“—think he’s waking up!”

“—id! Kid, can you hear me?”

Shit. They knew he was awake. There was no getting out of this. 

He fluttered his eyes open, sitting up with great difficulty.

“MK? How are you feeling?” Fake Tang asked. He looked so real, too.

MK scanned the room as subtly as he could. The door wasn’t blocked. He had to make a run for it. It was a long shot, but if he could just get to his staff, then he could get out of here. But it was so far away.

Pretend Monkey King took a step closer, reaching out a hand to put on MK’s shoulder — or to kill him.

“Don’t touch me!” he demanded.

“Oh, kid—”

He scrambled off the bed and onto the opposite side, nearly collapsing entirely at the immediate searing pain that came from it. He’d forgotten about his leg.

“Shit, kid, sit back down!” Not-Pigsy said, like he was panicking and genuinely worried for MK’s safety and well-being.

As they advanced on him, MK backed away, using the wall for support. He had to get away.

He made it to the door, but immediately bumped into something — or someone. He turned around, stifling a pained gasp at the action. Pretend Sandy was there, almost totally blocking the doorway.

He looked back behind him, terror growing as he saw the concern etched on his not-friends faces. It looked so real, and that only made it worse.

He had to get out of here.

He faked left. As predicted, not-Sandy followed.  MK quickly changed his direction, sliding past him and making a break for it down the hall.

The violent burning crawling up his leg was, quite literally, his downfall.  His leg gave out, and he was sent sprawling to the floor, and then he was being surrounded, by nurses and his friends alike, and then… he didn’t remember much, after that.

He woke up again in the same blindingly white hospital room. It felt like he was missing more than he knew he was.

This time, he was alone.

Hope soared in his chest. If he wasn’t being watched, he could get out! He went to sit up, but was stopped short by straps that were holding him down. 

“No,” he begged, tugging on them desperately. “No!”

He was trapped. Done for. They were going to kill him, and there would be nothing he could do about it.

Oh god, he was sure now that they’d make it extra slow and painful. Of course they would. They had to despise him, by now.

He heard someone approaching from the other side of the door, and immediately, he went limp, pretending to be asleep again.

The door opened.

“Oh, bud…” he heard pretend-Monkey-King say. “You’re gonna be okay.” they must have known MK was awake. There was no other reason they’d be spewing this bullshit. Maybe they could watch him even without a human puppet around.

MK couldn’t take it any longer. “Just drop it,” he said, staring numbly at the ceiling. “You don’t have to act anymore. The jig has been up for a long time.” he blinked back the tears that were pushing at his eyes. “So, who am I talking to? Jin or Yin? Or both? I don’t know how this Calabash shit works.”

MK couldn’t see not-Monkey King’s reaction to that. He just kept staring at the ceiling, blinking away his tears. His head was beginning to hurt.

“Those bastards? You think—? Oh, MK…”

Oh, great, now they were playing from this angle. When would they just give it up? He knew it was them.

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Oh, come on, bud, you don’t really think they could replicate my stunningly good looks, do you?”

In spite of himself, MK laughed. That was just like his mentor.

Monkey King smiled. “Really, bud, it’s me. Wukong.”

MK glared at the ceiling. “Nice try. The real one wasn’t… I wouldn’t have called the real one by that name.” he never had before. The demons clearly hadn’t done enough research.

Pretend Monkey King’s confusion was so fake it hurt. “What do you mean?”

“We’re not that close, you know. Hell, I doubt he even actually knows my name. Just — god. Kill me. Don’t try to make me believe it’s really them. Just get it over with!”

“Dammit, MK, we’re not going to kill you!”

“Whatever.”

For a moment, fake Monkey King looked genuinely upset. He sighed. “Get some rest, kid.”

And then he left.

MK spent the next few minutes in silence, struggling to get out of the restraints. But they were tough. Fucking hell. 

But he didn’t give up. He couldn’t afford to. He had to get out of them, he had to get home, to his real friends. How long had he been in here, anyway? Pigsy would probably be pissed at him for missing work.

The door opened, and this time, it was the fake version of Mei. He didn’t even get the chance to wonder what she wanted before she spoke.

“Ask me something,” she demanded. “Monkey King told us what you think is going on, so ask me something. Something only you and I would know.”

Oh, so they could make it all worse by making him see just how much they knew about him? Hard pass.

At his lack of reply, Mei began to talk. “We’ve known each other since we were 13. Pigsy took you in a year or two after that. Your favorite season of Monkey King: the animated series is season 8, because you think whatshisname is hot.”

Okay, sue him, he had a thing for redheads! But that wasn’t important right now. “So what? Anyone could find out stuff like that!”

Mei huffed, continuing on. “Your favorite coping mechanism used to be writing fic about Monkey King adopting you. You wrote one of the biggest fics in the fandom ever.”

“And? That’s not that hard to figure out!”

Mei looked like she was about to scream. “Your parents were bad people.”

MK, who had been struggling, immediately went still.

“They were bad people, and they were even worse parents. You told me not to go after them, even after you got kicked out. Because you’re too good to have ever even considered it. What else do you want from me, MK? When you defeated DBK—”

MK had to admit, he’d almost begun to believe her. “You almost had me there,” he admitted, “I don’t know how the hell you found out about any of that, but if you didn’t notice, the DBK thing didn’t work last time either.”

“...What?”

“Oh my god, I’m not that dumb. I would remember locking away DBK if it had really happened.”

“But… it did?”

“Yeah, sure. I really did lock away the entire Demon Bull family, yeah. And Tang and Pigsy have some weird gay relationship going on, and Mo can just talk now, and Sandy is hosting romantic river cruises, of all things. And you,” he said, forcing down the vomit. “are in love with me!”

Mei made a face. “Ew! That’s disgusting. Wait, okay, I think I have one. What if I tell you what MK stands for? Then will you believe it’s me?”

MK rolled his eyes. Nobody knew what MK really stood for but the real Mei. Even demons would have a hard time figuring it out. Hopefully.

“Whatever.” 

They were probably bluffing, anyway.

His name, what MK really stood for, was a nearly perfectly kept secret. Especially in… recent times.

“MK stands for Monkey King, “because he’s like, my hero! And doesn’t MK have this super cool and kinda mysterious edge to it?” she replied, imitating him badly and hardly missing a beat. “And, even though you think it’s a super cool name, you’re embarrassed about it, and keep it to yourself.”

MK glared at her. “I don’t know how you heard that—”

“What will get you to believe me?” she begged.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I’m not falling for this bullshit again!”

“Ask me something! Anything! Please.”

MK thought for a moment. There was maybe one thing he could think of that they wouldn’t know. Something real. Something they would have no reason to. 

He sighed, weighing it over in his mind. There was no downside, he supposed. “What did you say when I first told you about… me?”

Again, Mei didn’t even need a moment to think. “I told you that I was really happy that you were comfortable telling me, and that I would love to take you shopping sometime to get you some better clothes, and then I demanded to know where your father lived so that I could scoop his eyes out with a plastic spoon, because he doesn’t deserve to even be able to lay eyes on you. And then I said I would keep him alive, but only barely, because an asshole like that deserves to suffer.”

MK’s blood went cold. It was too oddly specific, and had happened years ago. There was no way they could have known. Which could only mean…

“Mei?”

“Yes!” she cried, nodding frantically. 

He couldn’t help himself, the tears he’d been so desperate to hold back earlier finally beginning to fall. “It’s really you?”  he sniffled.

Mei nodded. “It is, I swear.”

Carefully, she wrapped him in a hug. It felt so nice and comforting. For a moment, MK just let himself be swept away by it.

Until the door opened.

He pushed Mei away gently, wiping his eyes furiously. 

“You uh… feeling alright, bud?” Monkey King… the real one…? asked.

“I’m okay.”

It was real. Pigsy and Tang, they were both real. And Sandy, and Monkey King, and Mei. God, he was so stupid.

“So… you thought you were in some evil magical illusion? Why?” Sandy asked.

“Because I was there before, and—” MK cut himself off. “Wait, no, this is still wrong. I would remember defeating DBK. That never happened.” But they knew — but he also would have remembered — he didn’t know what to believe. Oh god. How was he supposed to know for sure? How was he supposed to be confident in his decision? What was he supposed to do?

The others shared a look.

“You defeated them weeks ago,” Tang said, slowly.

“In like, April,” Mei added.

“It’s March,” MK corrected, his breathing picking up.

“It’s definitely May,” Pigsy said.

“I don’t… but…” MK took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. He didn’t feel so good. His head hurt so bad. He wanted it to stop.

His eyes were hurting, too. Was the world always so covered in little black spots?

“MK?” someone asked, their voice a thousand miles away. “Are you alright?”

The darkness fully overtook his vision, and MK didn’t have the chance to answer.

———

“—kill you, monkey asshole—”

“—do I have to do with this?”

“—our kid a — concussion!”

“—my fault?”

MK groaned, feeling faintly like he was going to vomit. He didn’t try to sit up, this time.

“MK, how are you?”

He eyed his maybe-friends warily. “Trying to figure out if I’m being tricked.”

“Yeah, about that. You’ve got a concussion, kiddo.”

Well, that was a lousy excuse. “I didn’t even hit my head,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Try again.”

“What about that earthquake earlier?” Sandy offered.

“That lasted for like, ten seconds.” Not even. It had been over before it had even actually begun. They needed to try harder than this to fool him. He’d almost fallen for their lies the last time he’d been awake. He couldn’t risk it happening again.

“It definitely lasted for longer than that,” Pigsy said.

“No?”

“Yeah?”

“I bet that’s what happened, then. You hit yourself on the head during the earthquake, forget some important shit — I mean, stuff — gave yourself a concussion, and then you went on a quest that I like to call how badly can I scare my parentals?” Pigsy said, all but yelling by the time he was done with his explanation.

Out of all of that, MK couldn’t help but hone in on one part of it. “...parentals?”

Mei sighed. “You’ve forgotten a lot.”

MK looked at her for a long moment. He still just wasn’t totally convinced. But if there was one thing he knew Yin and Jin would jump at, it was this. One last try. “You know what? I changed my mind. I am in love with you.”

“I — what the fuck, MK?” Mei asked, looking sick at the thought.

“Oh, thank god,” he said, sighing in relief. “Okay, I believe you now.”

Thinking about it, he supposed it all made sense. It didn’t make it much less disturbing, though. In fact, the growing sense of horror he was getting was almost worse than thinking he was inside the Calabash.

But god, it had all been so obvious. Besides the initial earthquake, there had been nothing else like it the entire day. No glitches, no inconsistencies, no random people surrounding him and insisting that this  was completely and totally perfect. Yin and Jin would have probably jumped at the chance to gloat once he’d initially figured it out, too.

In short, MK was just… really fucking stupid. 

Shit, it was really hitting him now. He must have seemed absolutely fucking crazy all day. Especially considering he’d never told anybody about his first experience in the Calabash.

His friends really had been concerned about him. And with good reason. To them, he’d just lost his mind out of nowhere.

He’d attacked them. He’d actually landed a hit on Mei. He’d been so sure that they weren’t really them. Oh god.

He couldn’t breathe.

He was so stupid. He’d freaked out over nothing, and had very obviously put his friends through enormous stress. All because of a little paranoia that had snowballed into — well. This.

He’d gotten a fucking concussion, broken something in his leg, he’d attacked Mei, he’d fought with everything in him against the people who were only trying to protect him. And all he had in response was to try to hurt them.

He was an idiot.

“C’mere, bud,” Monkey King said, crouching down beside the bed and wrapping MK in this sort of embrace that was all warm and soft and fuzzy. It was so comforting and nice, and probably more than he deserved. “I’ve got you.”

From the other side of the bed, Mei leaned over, hugging MK from behind.

The others, to the best of their ability with the limited space the hospital bed provided, joined in, however uncomfortably.

It was like being completely cocooned in warmth and love. 

They… still wanted him around.

He’d completely flipped shit for no reason, had attacked them and screamed at them and done everything in his power to get away, but they still wanted him around. He’d been so sure they would be disappointed in him, would be angry that he’d fought them so viciously, or even hate him.

But if this was anything to go by, they didn’t.

In fact, he’d never felt so safe.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Tang assured from somewhere to his left.

For the first time in the last day (two days? more?), he actually believed it. His friends were real, they weren’t out to end him, and the danger, for the most part, was gone.

The Demon Bull family was gone, locked away under a mountain. Jin and Yin had nothing to do with it, this time.

Also, Pigsy had willingly referred to himself as MK’s parent figure, and wow was that strange.

Strange, but not unwelcome. 

And, if the day’s interactions were anything to go by, it seemed like Monkey King didn’t just tolerate him, but actually… actually cared about him?

He wondered if he’d felt that way at the point in time where MK’s memory stopped.

It was startling to know that everyone else in the room was much better informed about… well, everything, than him. They knew about thoughts and feelings he’d had that he didn’t even recall experiencing. They knew about his greatest battle, about how his relationship with all of them had developed in that time, all of it.

And he didn’t.

There was an uncomfortable gaping hole in his mind that he hadn’t even known was there. He felt sort of… naked without it. Like he’d run to work without his pants on and for some reason or another, couldn’t get back up to grab a pair.

His stupid brain was locking the door so that he couldn’t retrieve his pants.

But it would be okay. Something deep within him told him it would be. Or maybe it was the pile of people crowding around him in a group-hug, who knew. Probably a little bit of both.

But really, he was somehow certain that it would work out. He would regain his memory, and in the meantime, the others could fill him in on everything that he’d missed.

It was all going to be fine. It would take some adjusting, and it would be hard, but they still wanted him around. That was, in of itself, a miracle.

“Wait, does this mean he doesn’t remember that Tang and Pigsy are together?”

“What?”

[sobdasha]

I can’t wait for the day

when Momiji is revisiting The Most Foolish Traveler, the story that has always best embodied his life ideology, and just flips a table while yelling “this is bullshit!” in German.

(it’s probably about the same time that he and Momo decide to sue their parents for custody of each other)

He spends all of one evening on this (because he is really fired up and manages to get it out all in one go without any editing), commissions Rin for illustrations, and then mails off a copy to Tohru and Kyou in a fit of righteous anger.

It’s called The Most Idiotic Traveler in the World (with Corrected Ending) or something like that and the story diverges when the naked traveler is wandering through the woods. This time, early in her journey in the forest, the traveler meets a new monster not in the original story.

The monster tells the traveler that he’s been watching her since she first entered the woods. And, the monster tells her, she really is an idiot.

The traveler is confused and, to tell the truth, a bit hurt by that. It’s a different hurt than walking through the forest barefoot, with no clothes to protect her from scratches, and hobbling on a crutch of a fallen branch because she gave away one of her legs to a demon she met earlier.

“Look,” the monster says, “I’m not saying it’s not good to be grateful. Spending your life being worried about everything you could lose is a rotten way to live. But it’s okay to ask for something in return, you know. What are you going to do, keep giving away parts of your body to the demons in the forest? I know you just want to be kind, but how are you going to keep helping people if there’s nothing left of you but a head?”

(“Does that monster look kind of...familiar, to you?” Tohru asks Kyou.)

Oh, the traveler thinks. That’s what kind of hurt it is. Like the hurt of wanting to keep traveling through towns, wanting to keep being helpful, wanting to keep offering freely to the people around her. But being told instead that she’s not wanted because she’s naked, and shouldn’t she be ashamed and go where no one will see her.

(About a week ago Momiji called the house and asked, “Heeeeey Kyou, what’d your true form look like?” Kyou contemplated that for a little while, and then simply hung up on him. Rin then suggested they ask Shigure instead, as Shigure’s a bastard who knows everyone’s business.)

The traveler doesn’t know what to say to the monster. What if people think she’s greedy when she asks for a trade? What if people think that means she isn’t interested in helping really? And it’s scary to think about asking and then being told no.

(“Kyou, do you think it’s supposed to be a...a cat monster?”)

But somehow, the monster knows what she’s thinking, because he says that he didn’t mean to make her feel bad. He says, he just thought she should think about what would make her happy. He wanted her to hear that it was okay, to think like that. She can still be generous and grateful without having to lie to herself that she’s happy giving until there’s nothing left and never receiving anything new to give.

(Okay, I know I’m stupidly in love with Tohru and the whole family thinks it’s hilarious, Kyou thinks, but does Momiji seriously have to keep giving me shit about it all the time?)

“Oh,” says the traveler, starting to cry. “That’s actually very kind of you. No one has ever given me a gift like that before. I want to give you something in return for your kindness. Would you—would you like to have my arm?”

“No! I just—maybe you could let me travel with you. For a little bit. It’s kinda lonely in these woods.”

The monster is startled to find the traveler crying even harder now. I’m so sorry, the traveler tells him. It’s not that she’s upset or that she doesn’t want to travel with him—it’s just that that’s what she’s secretly always hoped for. Traveling, and meeting new people, and seeing new towns and forests, are all very lovely. But leaving people and places so soon after she’s met them is so very lonely. She’s given and given away everything she has, and she doesn’t begrudge it at all, but the only thing she would have wanted in return was for someone to travel with her for a while and keep her company.

“I can never repay your generosity!” the traveler wails.

“Hey now,” says the monster, “I thought this was a gift you were giving to me.”

Though you really shouldn’t give up any more of your body parts if you want to keep traveling and helping people, the monster scolds her. But, he says, if the time comes when she really must give up her other leg to help someone...he’ll be there to carry her, so they can keep traveling, together.

And the traveler and the monster did continue to journey together for a long time, and they lived very happily and generously but with reasonable boundaries for their well being and had so many beautiful monster babies and grandbabies THE END.

(“This is the most beautiful story I’ve ever read,” Tohru sobs into Kyou. Kyou decides he’ll forgive Momiji after all for rewriting that weird story, now blatantly starring him and Tohru and wtf even prompted that brat to do this anyway.)

The moral that Momiji took from the original story, that you should just be a beautiful person and not worry about loss and be kind, and it’s okay to die telling yourself you’re happy when all you’ve been is abused, is a garbage moral. (He also took away that he wanted to make kind people like that happy. But he accurately sees himself and Tohru as being very similar people, and he has told himself he’s okay with being walked over the same way Tohru does.) Being grateful for what you have does have its merits, but. You can be kind and have boundaries. You can be generous and not force yourself to smile and be grateful when people use you.

Momiji has no regrets about trying to empathize with his parents and keeping his distance for his mother’s mental health and his father’s happiness. But I expect there’s a point where he realizes it was awful of his dad to frame Momiji getting literally disowned as a “gift” Momiji gave her when actually Momiji didn’t have a choice to say that he didn’t want to be forgotten. I expect he builds up a lot of righteous indignation about being kept away from Momo, especially as Momo gets older and clearly wants a relationship because she’s actively seeking it out. After all, by the time his curse breaks, he’s self-aware enough to articulate that no one else can dictate for him “you should be grateful for X” or “you’ll never be happy if you do Y.” He’s made peace with the things he can’t have but he has realistic expectations for potentially getting other things in the future. Momiji refuses to accept that he’ll get nothing in return for his kindness.

(I’m also thinking about how very cold they play Momiji at the hospital with Akito in the anime, and how Momiji doesn’t warm up and offer Akito comfort via The Most Foolish Traveler until it’s clear that Akito isn’t thinking “isn’t it great how I played all these suckers” but could instead be receptive to the idea of “I want to give something kind to these dumbasses in return even though they won’t ask me for it” if nudged in the right direction.)

Momiji said his initially reaction to The Most Idiotic Traveler in the World was to want for the traveler to be happy for real, which says that Momiji is aware that the traveler was not actually happy, dying alone in the forest crying about how happy and grateful she was. And he is Right and He Should Say It and also rewrite the story with a correct ending.

[tellerford13]

MO ASTOR CHAPTER 44                                            

Disclaimer We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.”

The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC

We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us.

                                                          A/N: AND. WE’RE. BACK! We appreciate your patience, heading into the show require a wee bit more work on our end as well as dealing with some hard hits from the real world. All that being said, we’re hoping to be able to stick to our weekly postings. So HERE WE GO!                                                  MO CHAPTER 44

Jax

“Girls are still at yer old house,” Chibs explains, blowing smoke out from his cigarette.

“I’ll relieve the prospect after I stop by the hospital.”

“Going to see the lad?”

I wince under his censure. Chibs doesn’t have to say a word to get his point across.

Everything that needs to be said is visible in his eyes.

“Naw. Gonna set his mother straight.”

Chibs grunts.

“What?” I snap.

“I didnae say a word.” He shakes his head, takin a deep inhale.

“Yeah, ya don’t have to,” I mutter, spinning on my heels and taking off.

Clay’s just got finished giving me shit about Mom telling him I hadn’t seen Abel.

No one stops to consider it might be too much for me.

I’ve gotten so used to people leaving, I keep them at a distance.

I also have a lot of shit on my plate, and I can’t afford to drop the ball.

They want me to put the club first but don’t stop to look at what the cost might look like. I’d rather be dealing with the fucking Mayans than this family guilt trip shit.

Clay attempting to keep me in line by holding Abel’s hospital bills in my face was a low blow. But I’ve come to expect that shit from him.

There’s not enough time in the world to stop me from being furious with Wendy when I reach St. Thomas.

I’m glad Tara is nowhere to be seen.

I got my hands full with one crazy ex.

Wendy looks like death warmed over.

Ratty bleached out blonde hair, sallow skin, and dark circles that lend to her skeleton impression. What the fuck did I ever see in her?

Another lost soul who needed an anchor, so she didn’t drift off the deep end.

It worked for a time.

I should’ve ended it when it stopped, and she relapsed the second time, instead of ignoring her like she’d go away on her own.

She looks up and starts to cry when she sees me.

Stepping in, I ignore her hysterics.

I’ve grown immune to them.

“You need to get help, Wendy,” I say, trying to soften the irritation in my tone.

“I know, I know— But it’s not what you think. I was doing so good, Jax. I love my baby. Even with us being fucked up.” She shakes her head, wiping at imaginary tears.

“So the meth fairy shot you up?”

She looks down at the bed, and I tense.

Her lack of eye contact’s always been a tell-tail sign she’s hiding shit from me.

“Start talking now, Wendy.” I growl.

“I thought he loved me. That he didn’t care I was having your baby. I was wrong. All he wanted to talk about was you and the club. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t.” She shakes her head, speaking as if she’d forgotten I was even there.

Walking over, I grip her bedrail to keep from gripping her arms and shaking the answers out of her.

“And.” I ground out.  

“He forced me to shoot up Jax! H-He Said I was going to tell one way or the other!”

Well for Fuck’s sake!  

“Son of a bitch. What did you say to him, Wendy?”

She shakes her head.

“I- I don’t know. The doctor said Abel’s getting stronger. He said maybe they would fix his belly. Maybe tomorrow morning.” I shake my head at her attempt to change the topic.

Now I have to worry about what the Nords know on top of everything else.

“They’ll do everything they can.”

I won’t hope. That’s a dangerous thing I can’t afford to do right now.

“My lawyer said they might file criminal charges. Fetal abuse. I got stuff back at the house in the stash drawer.”

“Jesus Christ.” I scoff, shaking my head.

It never ends with this bitch.

“You expect me to bring it to you so you can get high too?” I growl.

“No, I told you…” She whines.

“I didn’t even want to do it, Jax. You have to believe me. Just if they find that shit, they’re gonna put me away.”

“Might be the only way you’ll get clean,” I state honestly.

Plus, her outta the picture might make all the women in my life a lot happier.

“You own the house, Jax. I’d hate to see this blowback on you.”

The truth of her statement dumps over me like a bucket of cold water.

“Yeah, of course.” I chuckle dryly.

Now there’s another fucking mess I gotta fucking clean up.

It never ends.

Fuck, I need to find the shit before the girls do. I don’t want them anywhere near that shit, let alone touching it.

“Jax, wait. Please, please, Jax!” Her whining falls on deaf ears as I leave the hospital behind and hit the road.

Pulling up into the driveway, I gesture for the grunt to leave as I enter the house that never felt like a home.

I watch briefly as the girls pitch things into garbage bags, spraying and scrubbing down furniture.

It hits me in the heart and the gut.

The three women I love most are here together, doing what they can to make this shit show more tolerable.

I clear my throat. “It’s almost midnight.”

They all stop, startled by my appearance before glancing up at me with tired expressions.

“The place is a goddamn pigsty.” Ma huffs, picking up all the clothes laying around.

“Cleaning was never her strong suit. But it didn’t look like this last time we were here.”

Mom glances over at me.

Sitting on the desk next to the half wall that separates the living room from the wall, I look over at the girls working in the kitchen and dining room.

“What are you doing here?” Mom asks, continuing her almost frantic cleaning.

“It’s my house,” I offer, pulling my riding gloves off.

“No, it’s your property. There’s a big difference,” J corrects walking into the living room with another trash bag.

Lee meets my gaze, studying me with those blue lasers that always see everything I want to hide.

I look away, unable to keep my secret in the face of her worry-filled expression.

“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to see it this way,” Ma says as she continues to straighten and organize.

It’s her way, always in action to run from her emotions.

“You guys don’t have to do this.” Guilt hits me.

They’re over here cleaning up the mess I made.

My stomach clenches.

“Look, we just want it livable,” Lee says walking into the living room with an empty hamper for the clothes.

Her words should be soothing, but that’s the last thing I want right now.

“I’ll buy some decent carpet. Cigarette burns are everywhere.” Mom mutters, continuing to pick up Wendy’s mess. “Mom.” I try to grab her attention, but she continues to mumble and clean.

“Make this shit-hole a home for your son.”

Something in me snaps at the mention of Abel.

“Mom, For chrissakes, stop cleaning!” I bark.

J steps in front of her.

“Oh hell no. You don’t get to talk to her like that! Not when we’re here helping your ass out. Trying to clean up the fucking trail of mess you left behind. Like always!”

I flinch.

“Jax.” Lee shakes her head.

The disapproval is visible in her blue sapphires.

“He’s not gonna make it.” I let my worries fly out of my mouth.

The girls gasp, circling around me.

Lee grabs my hand, squeezing tight.

“W-What are you talking about?” Mom asks.

“What happened?” Lee and Journee ask in that twin sync way they have.

I exhale and shake my head.

“He was born with half a stomach and a hole in his heart. He’s gonna die—.”

My head is rocked to the left, and my side is on fire from mom’s slap and baby sister’s wicked pinch.

I think the little bitch drew blood and broke the skin.

But it’s Lee letting go of my hand that hurts the most.

“Don’t you say that! You’re the only one this boy’s got! You don’t believe he’s gonna live, you might as well go and kill him yourself.” Mom snaps, glaring at me as she speaks her truth.

Turning from me, she walks over to the table and grabs the joint and lighter sitting in a bowl.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles half-heartedly, lighting up the joint as I make my way towards her, cautiously.

My eyes catch Lee’s disappointed blues.

“You gotta go see him, Jax,” She says gently, stepping towards me.

Even through my pain, I hear Lee’s voice, but I can’t gather the guts yet to do what she’s asking me.

“I can’t.” I admit honestly.

“Why? Because he’ll break your heart? It’s called being a father,” Mom says, after blowing out her deep inhale.

I place my hand up on the half-wall, resting heavily against it.

“For how long? A day? A week?” I spit the words circling around my head out like poison.

Mom sighs, and nods to me to come take a seat with her.

I release my own sigh, and glance back to see the girls going back to cleaning but staying nearby.

Wiping at some crumbs on the table, I sink into the chair, exhausted.

Mom takes another hit from the joint before offering it to me.

I look up at her gratefully, taking a deep inhale as she takes a seat across from me.

“You know, you were born with that same heart defect as your little brother.”

She reaches across the table and gently knocks at my chest.

“You seem pretty sturdy to me.”

Her tone has changed to something a little softer and I can’t help but give her a small smile.

“I came through hell. Landed on my feet…your father was hit by a goddamn semi, dragged 178 yards...and that bastard lived for two more days. Tellers do not die easy.” She says with a proud smirk.

I snort.

“No, we just die bloody.” I say honestly.

I’m not sure that’s better.

“That’s the Irish in us,” Ma says without missing a beat.

The storm ends, and I turn to glance up at the girls.

“I’m sorry.” I mouth the words.

Journee scowls, and Lee shoots me a sad look that makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

I need to get out of this moment.

“When you and dad hooked up, he ever talk to you about his vision? About what he wanted from the club?”

The girls look at me, and I nod.

Mom fidgets with the joint in her fingers before shrugging.

“His vision was— you know, what it is. A brotherhood. Family.” She offers me the joint.

“And running guns? He want that?” I keep on her, needing to get to the bottom of how we came to this position.

“He never talked about that. Why?” She eyes me for a moment, before standing from the table.

“I found a box of his old shit in the storage unit. There’s, like, pictures and journals and... Things I never knew about him.” I shrug.

“What kind of things?” Journee asks, pausing her cleaning.

“It seemed like his original idea for the MC was something simpler. You know, social rebellion. He called it a Harley commune. It wasn’t outlaw. It was real hippie shit.” I say with a slight smile.

It’s not hard to imagine my laidback father wanting that.

I take another hit of the joint, watching as Mom sighs and tosses her head slightly.

I can see her brimming with nervous energy.

I know she doesn’t like to talk about dad.

“We had a lot of bright ideas back then. We were kids. Your father became a man. Men take care of business.” She says, but she isn’t looking at me when she speaks.

“Yeah, we do.” I answer, blowing the smoke out of my nose.

“You should get home, Mom. Finish cleaning tomorrow. Lee and I will lock up.” I say as mom turns to look at me while Journee looks from me to Lee.

“You good?” She hugs Lee, who whispers something in her ear.

Mom walks over and frames my face for a moment.

“Night mom.” I say as she bends to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Night baby.” She whispers squeezing my hand before walking past me.

“Hey,” I nod at Mom. “Have her stop by the club. Your old man misses you.” I say, standing from the table.

Baby J steps closer and tugs me down to her.

“Do not fuck this up, Jaxass. Remember everything you have to lose.”

I nod my head.

“I hear you.”

She pats my cheek.

“Good.”

“Ok, darling.” Mom sounds exhausted.

It’s easy to forget sometimes she’s still only human.

“Good night, mom. Night Baby J.”

“Good night, baby.” Ma blows a kiss before grabbing her stuff.

“See you tomorrow, bro. Remember what I said.”

“Yeah.” I nod.

“Lee. I’m always a call away,” Baby J says, ignoring me as she walks up and kisses her.

I glance over to see Mom’s already out the door.

That’s new.

I guess they’re done giving a shit.

“I love you too, Nee.” Lee calls out.

They walk out, and I go to the drawer Wendy mentioned.

“What are you doing?” Lee asks, following me over to the stash drawer.

“Saving us a whole lot more trouble.” I remove the gun, syringes, and bags of smack.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lee screeches angrily.

“Obviously not mine.” I mumble, tucking the gun into the waistband of my jeans as I walk over to the bathroom.

“Why are you covering for her? It’s like enabling.” She says as I flush the baggies away.

“Cause it’s my damn house, Harley. Imagine how much the law would love to find that shit and charge me.”

She crosses her arms and nods.

“So, you sweep in and rescue her. She has no consequences?” She follows me back to the living room.

“She’s lying in the hospital half dead right. I’m pretty sure she’s paying.” I snap, turning to look at her.

“So you could go see the Junkie bitch, but not your son?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Explain it to me, then. Cause what I see is the one solid parent Abel has turning their back.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit, and you know it. That kid is going to have more love than most kids get in a lifetime.”

“Maybe. But it won’t make up for an absent father.” She pokes her finger at my chest.

I roll my eyes, fighting back the urge to growl.

“You already labeling me now? Don’t let your past mingle with my future. I’m ain’t like Wally, and you know it.” I swipe her hand away, shaking my head.

“No. But I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a junkie mother and a father who couldn’t’ be bothered,’ She whispers.

Her past pain bleeds into her blues, tugging at my heart strings.

Fuck.

I turn back to face her, bending slightly to catch her eyes.

“I get that, but it’s not the same, Lee. I just—my head is spinning, and I need to be grounded before facing him lying there like that, okay? It ain’t about a lack of love.” I run a hand through my hair, blowing out a deep breathe.

“You’re a Father now, Jax. You can’t keep things on the backburner anymore.” She steps forward, and I open my arms.

“I don’t want to fight, babe.” I say sincerely.

“So, let’s not fight.” Her tone doesn’t match her sentence.

I know she wants to keep talking about this and shit it’d be easier if she knew what went down with Wendy, but I’m ain’t about to add gasoline to that fire.

So I’ll keep this close to my chest for now.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, just needing us to be okay.

“Anything, other than ignore him Jackson.” She throws her hands up in the air.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll go see Abel tomorrow.” I say, knowing it’ll make her happy.

“Yeah?” She whispers.

Her eyes light up, and I nod.

Fuck she’s got me wrapped around her finger don’t she?

“Yeah.” I swallow my pride and my fear.

I can’t control if I lose my son, but I can keep Lee.

“You’re right. I’ve been putting things on the back burner I should be handling. I want to be the kind of man my father was.” My throat clogs.

“This ain’t it.”

She steps into my arms and I hold her tight.

“I see him in you all the time Jackson. You just need to learn how to channel him and block out all the other bullshit thrown at you.” Wrapping her armss around my waist, she rests her head on my chest.

Inhaling the citrus scent of her hair, I let her ground me.

We’re in a fucking hurricane right now.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep our heads above water.

Tara, Wendy, Abel, Mayans, Nords, it’s all coming at us at once.

I can’t even catch my damn breath.

“Talk to me.” Lee tilts her head up, propping her chin on my chest as she turns those cerulean lasers up to lock onto mine.

Her anger’s faded, but I can see the steely determination in the depths of her electric blue eyes. She expects me to keep my word.

“That’s why I’m here.” She pushes gently.

I don’t even know where to start.

We’re in the middle of a powder keg, ready to explode.

The less she knows, the better.

Once you add her own issues with abandonment into the situation, I know rational thinking goes straight the fuck out the window.

“I don’t want to talk babe. I want to feel something other than worry and stress. I need you, Lee.” I whisper, pressing our lips together.

“Then have me, Jackson.” Her tone is husky but demanding.

She fists my hair and crashes our kiss together again.

I grip her face in my hands and dominate the kiss.

Tilting my head slightly I deepen our kiss and slip my tongue into her mouth, exploring the playground I already have memorized.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I crush her frame against my chest.

The mint of the gum she’s been chewing makes my tongue tingle as the addicting scent of spicy citrus fills my nostrils. Blood rushes to my cock, slowly hardening against her. She pulls back to suck in air, and I move my hands down to her hips. I don’t want her to be even an inch from me right now.

I press forward, moving her back towards the half-wall and the desk.

Lips lock and teeth gnash as our hands work in tandem, stripping each other of our bottoms.

Unbelted and unbuttoned, my jeans drop down my hips, weighted heavily by the items always attached.

I shove down the leggings she’s wearing and lift her up from the ground.

She wraps her knees around my waist as I hold her weight with one arm, clearing the small desk and positioning her against the half-wall.

Her fingers tug at my hair, turning my head to keep our lips connected.

I growl as my hardened cock strains against the confines of my boxers.

Her wet heat sears me through the thin cotton, painting my boxers in her fragrant juices.

“Fuck. you’re so wet, baby.” I groan, grinding against her slick folds.

“Always for you.” She whimpers, reaching into my boxers to pull my cock out.

“Shit.” I hiss as her warm fist wraps around me.

Precum leaks from my tip, and she uses her thumb to smear the sticky liquid down my cock.

“Fuck I love you.” I groan as she pumps me before lining me up with her hot entrance.

“Fuck me, Jackson. Claim me as yours.” The neediness in her tone causes the beast inside me to roar to life.

“Mine,” I growl, thrusting into her without warning.

She gasps, arching her back.

I bend down, sucking the skin of her neck into my mouth.

She whimpers, turning her head to the side to allow me more access.

I stay still, basking in being completely surrounded by her and losing myself in the taste of her skin.

I suck harder, wanting to leave my mark and let everyone know she’s claimed.

“Jackson.” She gasps, clenching her muscles around my cock.

I groan at how fucking tight she feels.

Biting her neck, she whines and rolls her hips towards me.

I slide back just slightly, desperate to remain inside her for as long as possible.

I roll my hips instead of sliding out.

“O-oh.” She moans, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and hugging me closer to her.

The wood creaks with the movement, and my hands move to her thighs to support her weight.

“You feel so fucking, good baby.” Lee moans as I continue to rotate my hips inside her.

I mix it up with a rhythmic back and forth but never out of her.

This is my pussy, and the only people allowed to play in here are J. Tellers.

The quick flash image of my baby sister making my girl come has me groaning loudly and thrusting deeper.

“Fuck baby, just like that!” She cries out, clenching around me.

Her back arches, and her body trembles.

“Shit, Jackson, I’m close—so fucking close.” She gasps, rocking her hips towards me erratically.

My cock grows impossibly hard as I near mine.

I bite at her collarbone, leaving my marks all over her neck.

No one will ever doubt this woman is claimed and claimed fucking well.

“I’m yours, baby,” I whisper against her lips, letting her know this claiming goes both ways.

“And you’re fucking mine.” I hiss, rotating my hips so my cock can hit that spot inside her that makes her shatter.

“YES!” She cries out, fingernails digging into the back of my neck as her pussy locks down on me like a fucking vice.

“Fuck.” I groan, falling headfirst into my own release and shooting my hot load deep inside her.

She hugs me close as I rest my weight on my forearms against the wall, trapping her between them and struggling to catch my breath.

Lifting my head, our eyes lock, and I’m lost in the soft glow of her electric blues.

“I love you so much, Harley,” I say, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips before I slowly ease out of her.

“Mmm, love you too.” She mumbles against my lips.

“I’ll love you even more if you get me a towel.” She blinks up at me with hazy eyes and a satisfied smile.

I bend down to pull my boxers and jeans back up.

Shit, the thought of my cum swimming around inside her could make me hard again.

I know she’s got that thing in her arm, but damn if I don’t love knowing she’s marked by me, inside out.

“Leave it,” I whisper, smirking as I help her stand.

Her eyes widen, shocked by my request.

“Really?” She asks as I drop to my knees to pull her leggings back up her legs for her.

I nod, standing back to my feet and pulling her close.

“You told me to claim you. Nothing says claimed like my seed swimming around inside you.” I slip my hand down the front of her leggings and cup her pussy.

The heat radiating through the thin, wet material has me biting my lip.

She whimpers.

“And what about you, Jackson?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Are you claimed?” She asks, confusing me with her line of questioning.

“You tell me?” I ask, tucking some loose strands from her messy bun back behind her ear.

“I thought so…” She runs her knuckles down my cheek gently.

Suddenly she’s pinching my chin tightly, tilting my head down to meet her gaze.

“But then I see, Tara Fucking Knowles is in town, and you don’t look all that shocked to see her.” The fury flames in her eyes once more.

Fuck. Shoulda known the calm would only last a few minutes.

I sigh, shaking my head.

“Shit. We really talking ‘bout this now?” I ask, stepping back.

“Fuck yes we’re talking about this! Why didn’t you fucking tell me, Jackson! I do not like being blindsided!” She pushes at my chest and steps away from me.

“How long have you fucking known? How long did you plan on keeping it from me? And why, why the hell didn’t you fucking tell me!” She pushes at my chest again.

“Lee, I’m sorry, aight? I was gonna tell you the other night when we went out for our ride, but then the Mayans blew up the warehouse, and Wendy ODing threw us right into the middle of it before I had a chance.”

I step towards her cautiously, slowly moving to grab her hands.

“I only found out that morning. I just wanted to get some us time in before I told you-“ I begin.

“Why?” She asks in a defensive tone, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Cause I know how you feel ‘bout Tara, and I just wanted us to be solid-“

She slides her hands out from mine and steps back.

Something deep inside growls at the thought of her stepping away from me.

“Why wouldn’t we be solid, Jackson? Should I be worried we’re not solid now that SHE’s back?” I can hear the accusations in her tone, and I don’t like it one damn bit.

“Nah Fuck that, Harley. Her being back don’t change shit ‘bout us.” I step to her, gripping her hips in my hands tightly.

“I think I just fucking proved that,” I growl, nodding towards the clatter of shit on the floor from our early escapade.

“You think I’m going to accept the scraps you used to give other women? Takes more than a quick fuck against a wall to make me feel secure.”

“Don’t say shit like that when you know it ain’t fucking true!” I yell before I can catch myself.

Her eyes widen, but I don’t see an ounce of fear in them.

“I fucking love you, Harley Grazer! Tara ain’t nothing to me but an old ghost, you fucking hear me!” My fingers grip her hips so she can’t step back from me again.

“That bitch is the past. You and I are headed towards a future. I ain’t gonna let that gash get in the way of that by gettin into your head.”

This is my fault.

I let her pull me from my girls and my family once before.

But I’m gonna make it damn clear it ain’t happening again.

I struggle to calm myself.

I can’t blame her for being cautious.

I release a shaky breath, trying to force some sanity back into my brain before I start to demolish the whole fucking house.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. My plan was to tell you after our ride before everything went to shit. I only found out that morning.” I loosen my grip on her hips but still hold her to me.

She’s holding tense but not trying to stepping back.

I sigh, rubbing a hand down my face when she continues to glare at me.

“I mean it, Harley. I’m sorry I let that shit get away from me, but I need you to trust me when I say I got no love left for her. S’far as I’m concerned, she’s my son’s doctor, that’s it.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me.

My heart clinches when she remains stiff and doesn’t melt against me the way she usually does. “Can we be okay now?” I ask, desperate for things to be right between us.

I can’t fucking handle one more damn thing right now.

Her fingers fist my hair as she tugs my hair back slightly to grab my attention.

“Don’t keep shit like that from me anymore, and we’ll always be okay, Jackson.”

My stomach knots as I think about the bombshell Wendy dropped on me in the hospital.

I should tell Lee, but I don’t know if I have the fucking energy to go through another argument right now.

I wrap my arms tighter around her waist, squeezing her to me as I collapse against her for a moment.

One thing at a time.

[darktammy]

It’s My Decision (part 2)

don’t own this gif

Part 2 if you wanna be tag let me know don’t be shy. enjoy.

@sassymox​​​ @beenlovingromansincedayoneish​​​ @bss-babygirl​​​ @angiem91​​​ @acon1120​​​ @living-the-life-1996​ @moxslilangel2020​​​ @moxleybabe​​​ @adriennegabriella​​​ @jonmoxleygivesmelife​​​ @sausagefest1996​

You and Roman sat on the sofa in your place together, you were still trying to figure out what just happened. “I saw Ro, I just only met her yesterday the ring…” You look at your finger then back at him. “Y/n listen....I’m just like you lost for words, but you do know what’s going to happen right?” Roman looked with concern. You nodded your head at him.  “Right now I just need to find her and just finger this whole thing out now.” You explained to Roman. He nodded his head as you both looked back at the tv.

Seth was furious when he watched the news. “This bitch thinks she can one up me uh.” Becky sat next to him. “Seth babe let it go ok. If you keep this up then she’s going to win.” Seth looked at Becky with clam eyes. “Babe she bashed you, you think i’m going to sit here and take that?” Seth explained. She sighed as she looked down. “You know how much I hate Y/n. I think she might be doing this just to get back at us, but why have someone as big as Amy to do her dirty work?” Seth looked at Becky with a smile. “You know what baby you might be right. I should look into this whole thing and see who’s really using who.” Seth smiled as he gave Becky a kiss.

Amy was watching the news with a smile on her face. She looks at her phone to see her friends leaving her text messages saying congrats. She heard a knock at her door as one of the maids opened to see who it was. “Amy it’s me Tony.”  he said walking in. SHe smiled as she gave him a hug. “So what’s the pain of getting your fiance out of WWE?” She sighs as she looks at him. “Right now my lawyers are looking into it. She signed that contract knowly, but they said they found a loophole in it.” He nodded his head.  “Well my workers can’t wait to see her in there.” Tony said with a smile. “Hey Tony, claim down already.” Amy told him. “I can’t I mean look at it, my only cousin is going to finally get married? How could I. Oh and plus she’s going to be working with my brand, that just makes things even better.” Tony said with excitement. Amy shook her head.

Meanwhile you and Roman were both out having lunch together. “Hey baby girl slow down on the drinks.” He laughed a bit. You just had two glasses of jacks just to ease what was going on. “Yeah your right I should eat my burger and then the fries I guess.” As you start to eat your lunch you look up to see an old co-worker of yours. “Oh shit Ro.” He looked back to see Taker sitting by the bar. “Yeah I knew this was going to happen.” Roman said.  “Now you know why I’m here then?” Taker said as he turned to look at the both of you. You mumble as you take another shot of jacks.  

Tony and Amy were with the lawyers in court waiting for Vince to show with his lawyers. “I can’t wait to see what’s gonna happen when they come.” Amy said. He looked at her with a smile. “He’ll come, I know because you called him out.” They both laughed as Cody walked in. “Hey Tony.” He smiled at Cody while Amy nodded. “I’m not going to miss this for the world.” Cody said with excitement. “Well rest assured my finance will be out of this hell hole that they put her in. I know she’ll be better off with you guys.” Amy assured both Tony and Cody. After an hour that has passed Vince with his son in law triple H both walk in with their attorneys. “Let the battle begin.” Amy said as they all walked into a small courtroom. 

Seth was sitting in his car waiting for you to show up to your home. He was parked no more than a block away from your building. “Alright, Y/n where are you.” As he was watching and waiting for you to show. You were walking down the block until you saw Seth’s car. “Oh you have got to be kidding me.” You said to yourself. Thank goodness there was a back door for you to enter. So you walk the back block just so Seth doesn't see you. As you entered the back of the building you made to the elevator and up to your floor. You walk to your door taking your keys out just so you can get in. Once inside you walk to your window to see Seth’s car still park up a block from your building. “Get a life loser.” You said as you closed your curtains. 

After a few hours of long deliberation Vince finally made an agreement with Amy. “Alright then I’ll let her go, but if she ever talks about my company I’ll sue her ass into the ground.” Vince told her. “Are you threatening my woman Vince?” Amy said with a claim voice. “Your damn right.” He said Triple H look at Vince then look down shaking his head. “Looks like we have another court date to meet with.” She said with a smile on her face. “She’s telling the truth you just threatened Y/n, and in the agreement that you just signed Mr.McMahon.” The judge showed Vince, “You can’t not have any one of your guys going after her speaking to her or even threatening her. Unless their family and in this case we know Roman is her foster brother so he's ok.” Vince looked back at Amy who had a smile on her face. “Well see you in court Mr.McMahon.”  Amy, Tony and Cody all got up with their attorney and walked out the room leaving both Vince and Triple H in shock.

You were eating some chinese food when your phone rang you looked to see it was Amy, you answered. “Hey babe, you have a lot of explaining to do with me.” you said in a low tone. “You sound sexy when you're mad. Listen I have good news you're free.” Amy said happily. You got up and started to look around your room. “What do you mean free?” you ask. Amy smiled, “You are free to join Tony in AEW now, now you can sign and join them.” You smiled as you started to up and down with joy. “Thank you Amy I’m so happy thank you so much I can’t wait to sign.” Tony was smiling, “Hey tomorrow morning will meet up have lunch and you can sign.” He said. You nodded as you looked down. “Yes, that would be great, thank you once again. Oh Amy?” You ask, “Yes darling?” Amy asks. “Uh you know what never mind. I’ll…” A loud knock was heard from your door. “Hey Amy how fast can you get here?” Your voice was enough for her to tell Tony to step on it to your home. “I’m on my way.” Amy yelled.

You start to walk to the door as you take a look through the peephole you saw Seth standing outside of your door. “Hey Y/n come on I know your home. You're the only one who would scream like if something good happens.” You were in shock as you started to add the other locks on your door. “Hey dollface, come one now let’s talk for a minute ok just me and you.” Seth tried to make his voice sound smooth. You move away from the door as you walk to the window hoping to see Amy’s car. You whisper to yourself “Seth go away please.” The knock on the door gets louder. “Hey Y/n open the fucking door already! I know that whole show your so called finance did online was fake, for what to get back at me for what did with Becky? Open the fuck door so we can talk.” He said 

You tried to black out the noise that was from the other side of your door. “Go away Seth!” You begged, but it was no good because Seth kept on bagging on your door. You close your eyes trying to block out the noise. You feel into your own little world because you couldn’t hear anything. You started crying from the noise reminding you from your past with your father when he used to beat your mother. The yelling, the shouting, hands beating on the door made you yell out. Then without you knowing  someone had already come in. You look up still dizzy with tears. “Hey Y/n are you alright?” You look at him for a minute then it hits you. “Tony?” You looked around and you saw a few more. “Roman is that you?” You ask. “I got her bro?” You look to see a man with blue eyes and short brown hair picking you up. You yelp little as you look at him. “Hey Y/n are you alright?” He asked. You just nodded as you closed your eyes. The last person you heard was Amy.” Y/n hey!”

Everyone was in the hospital due to the fact that you fainted. “This is not the first time this happened to her.” Roman spoke. Everyone in the room looked at him. “ She came from an abusive home. Her father beat her mother all the time.” Amy sat on the hospital bed where you were laying on. “My poor girl.” She said while holding your hand. Roman looks at Amy then at you. Her father was a friend of my dad’s so yeah you can say we're family. I mean after what happened with her mother.” Everyone look at Roman. “What happened with her mother?” Amy asks. Roman sigh. “When Y/n was just a teen, we walked home together. She asked me to come over to her house so we can do our history project together. Once when she opened the door we both saw something we thought we would only see in horror movies. I remember she let out blood curdling screams, when we saw her mother hanging upside down. Her inside body organs were cut, her eyes were rolled into the back of her head. Teeth, tongue lips were all gone.” 

Everyone in the room was quiet after roman described what happened with Y/n mother. “They were looking for her father after what happened. Turns out Y/n, father was selling organs on the black market. Fast cash, and the woman well his a shocker, that was never Y/n’s mother in the first place.” Everyone in the room looked at him. “Yeah they ran a DNA on the woman with her and it turns out all those years poor Y/n thought the woman she called mommy was never her mother.” Amy held you hand tight as she tried not to cry. “Hey Ro you sure you want to conute the rest?” Jon who was standing next to Roman the whole time pat Romans back. “Yeah I do if Amy wants to know about her.” Roman looked at her. Amy nodded.  

Her father was found three days later, he was looking for Y/n to take her away, but my family took her. She was sharing  a room with my sister at that time. Everyone was asleep except my dad, that man never sleeps like that. My sister got up because she thought she heard a noise so she walked out the room to go find our dad. The sound of glass breaking woke us up. My dad got up and ran up the stairs and all we heard was Y/n crying out for help. My dad thought fast grabbing him in a choke hold while he saw her trying to kill Y/n.” Amy looked at you while you were still asleep. “What did your father do to her dad?” Amy asks already knowing how it ends. “My father killed him by breaking his neck.” Roman said. Everyone in the room was dead silent. 

Roman walk right up to you. “After what happened we all moved out of the house we lived in, and right to Florida was our new home. Yes Y/n was adopted into the family and yes her last name is Anoa’i it’s not her father’s anymore.” He said with a smile. Cody had a smile on his face as he looked at you in the bed. “Damn I mean I have all but respect for your dad roman I really do.” Tony said. He nodded his head. “How did you guys know she was in trouble in the first place?” Roman looks at Tony. “I called Jon because I knew he was with you at the time me, Tony, and Amy were at court.” Jon nodded, “Yeah the way you sounded it was scary, but thank god we were having a few beers together.” Roman smirks a little. “I’m going to stay with her until she wakes up.” Amy said. 

“Sure just call me when she wakes up so that way we can find out what happened.” Roman said. Amy smiled at him while everyone walked out of the room leaving just you and Amy. “Now then my love, your mother was not your real mom.” She nodded her head as she started to think. “I think it’s time for me to dig into your past to find out who your real mother is.” She said as she looked at you.

[thehoodsweetheart]

Sandcastles | Part IV.

A/N: I want to start by apologizing for taking so long to create Part 4 to Sandcastles. I had writer’s block for a while and then life got in the way. I hope you all enjoy this. I will be continuing this series. No real music inspo for this part. The picture above is just adorable but not a depiction of Y/N and Iman. Please excuse any spelling and/or grammatical errors. It might be a bit rough. I was just trying to get this out.

Word Count: 3,112

Warnings: Slight Angst (?), Mentions Violence, Hints of emotional abuse, Mentions Miscarriage, Hints at abortion, possible triggers

Summary: Y’all not getting one this time.

Erik x Black Reader (will always be a Black reader. Sorry not Sorry).

——————————————————————————–

        Erik remained seated on the leather couch of his living room holding his phone to his ear yet still silent. His mouth opened but he soon shut it, as he was unable to form words. The sensation of his chest tightening followed by the familiar lump in his throat nagged at him. Erik leaned forward his elbows planted on top of his knees. His shoulders tensed. The feeling of regret washed over him for the umpteenth time. He had felt this too many times for his liking. The one person who for years brought him peace was bringing the storm. If he had to choose he’d say it was a hurricane followed by tsunami. The type of damage that it could cause would have anyone questioning if God was mad at the world. But Erik was the source, and he was internalizing just how much pain he was still causing you.

       The tone of your voice was enough to make him feel like scum. This was the second time that afternoon you had called him in a panic. The first was after his text threatening to kill the movers. Of course he listened to you and didn’t kill them… but he was already seeing red. It was too late for him to not do anything, at all. In Erik’s mind, at very least they deserved their ass beat for banging on the door like the police after he told them to get off of his property. Erik did just that. He beat their ass. The movers definitely needed to be in someone’s emergency room getting checked out for cracked ribs, a broken nose, maybe even a broken jaw. In Eric’s mind, this was light damage in comparison to what he wanted to do. They put themselves in the way of being the target of his frustration. Nonetheless, his logic could do no justice nor could it sooth your worries.

        You continued to yell at him through sobs, full blown hiccupping sobs. Erik hated the fact that for the countless time in less than two weeks, he was the reason you were crying. Some things you said he could barely understand due to your crying, but he sat there taking it all in, staring at his bruising knuckles as he assessed the damage made. What he could make out was that you were sick of his shit.

“Y/N, come on. I’m sorry alright? I know I fucked up…again, but please try to calm down princess. It’s too much stress on the baby.” Erik finally took a jab at some type of reasoning with you.

       He knew the potential consequences of high stress during pregnancy. In fact, you and Erik were not strangers to the disappointment and heartache that miscarriage could bring.  You two had suffered a miscarriage before conceiving Iman. Although, neither of you knew that you were pregnant until Erik rushed you to the hospital for what he thought was a possible rupture appendix, only to receive the heartbreaking news that you lost your first child.

       The first pregnancy was not exactly planned. Erik had been teasing you since you guys’ third date that he was going to get you pregnant one day. At that point you hadn’t even been intimate with him yet. He was nowhere near being ready to be a parent at that time. Erik was genuinely amused at how you would roll your eyes and scoff every time he mentioned it. It was just something he teased about more than anything. He loved to get a reaction out you. Nonetheless when he did imagine himself having children, he knew you were the only woman he’d envisioned. So when the time actually came and you miscarried, it triggered his fear of loss. Erik in term became even more overprotective of you, if that was even possible.

“STRESS?! STRESS ON THE BABY?! NIGGA YOU ARE THE STRESS ON THE BABY!”  You cried out. Erik pinched the bridge of his nose taking a deep breath. He could hear Iman crying in the background.

“Just…come home love. Let me take care of you and Iman. Let me try to fix us for real. All this yelling and shit probably has Iman scared.”

“EXACTLY ERIK! She is! This is just too much for me. ” Y/N sniffled. “Why would I ever come back? You make me physically sick to my stomach. You can’t even control yourself. What if they press charges? What if they sue me for putting them in that situation?”

           It was the truth. You were always right. He sighed in defeat. He knew he blew it once again.

“They not fuckin stupid. Them niggas was trynna take my family from me.” Erik mumbled. “I can have T’ch-“

“Don’t you dare” You cut him off. “T’challa? Really Erik?! T’Challa can’t solve your problems or be your voice of reason for you… and YOU lost your family on your own. Nobody  took us from you but  you.” Y/n ended the call immediately after, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

           Erik was left with is thoughts and your last statement replaying in his mind like a broken record. He was the cause of this entire situation and that was a tough pill to swallow. He was still at square one without the slightest clue on how to fix you all’s relationship. Maybe he did need to get himself together before he tried to pursue the mending of his family?

           Erik smacked his lips before picking up his phone once more. He scrolled through his contacts begrudgingly tapped a name he hadn’t dialed in almost a year. It was time he visited his therapist. He listened to the ringing before a chipper voice answered. It was his therapist’s secretary that annoyed him with her overly cheerful persona.

“Dr. Lang’s office, Amber speaking. How may I help you?”

“It’s Erik Stevens. Can you get Dr. Lang on the phone…immediately.”

“Sorry Mr. Stevens, but Dr. La—“ Amber hesitated.

“I’m not gone ask again.” Erik barked.

           Amber tried to cover gasp of astonishment with clearing her throat and politely telling Erik to hold. Amber knew exactly who Erik was, and against her better judgment she’d eavesdropped on his past sessions. It took less than 3 minutes for Dr. Lang to pick up the line.

“Mr. Udaku-Stevens, it’s been a while. How are you?”

“My wife left me.” It pained Erik to utter those words aloud.

“Ah! Well, how about you come in tomorrow 9 AM? If your schedule permits…”

“I’ll be there.” Erik kept it short hanging up the phone.

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

        You threw your phone down on the bed staring blankly into space. The sensation of saliva thickening in your mouth brought your attention to the nausea you had been trying to ignore. You used your sleeve to hastily wipe away the tears left on your face. You didn’t owe him a goodbye. You could barely comprehend why you were talking to him in the first place. Why do you always feel the obligation to reason with Erik? And to an extent, why did you still bare the burden of trying to protect him from himself? Erik could be his own worst enemy with his self-sabotaging fits of rage.

        Your thoughts were interrupted by a shriek that came from Iman as her cries intensified. Iman was having a full on fit. Her round golden face was now tinted in a red hue, hot tears spewed down her face, and her dimples piercing her cheeks as she flailed her chubby fist. Iman was teething and it was giving her the blues. You picked her up cuddling her close to your chest, rubbing small circles in her back, attempting to sooth her. A teething baby was a force to be reckoned with. You’d given her some medication in hopes of breaking her fever but just by touch you could tell that it had barely worked. Iman pushed at your chest and if you could guess you would only assume she didn’t want you to hold her.

       A light knock came to the bedroom door, before it cracked open far enough for your twin brother, JR, to peak in. With an exhausted yet concerned look on his face, he scratched his full beard looking at you and Iman. He had returned from football practice less than an hour ago and his usual routine would have been to take a shower then nap. It was apparent that that was interrupted. His expression softened as you made eye contact.

“What you in here doin’ to my niece?” he joked trying to lighten the mood. JR staggered further into the room. “What’s wrong wit my lil baybeh?” He cooed as he took Iman from your arms.

“She’s teething and sleepy so she’s fussy.” Y/N mumbled letting out a heavy sigh.

       JR cradled her in his muscular arms as Iman clung to him beginning to calm down. He was practically the same build as Erik. The idea of her possibly missing her father crossed your mind, and by no means were you intending to keep her from Erik, but taking her back to him was out of the question. You weren’t sure if he was in the right mental space and seeing his face only made you angry.

       You stood up from the bed briskly walked over to the adjoining bathroom shutting the door. You couldn’t resist the urge to vomit any longer. It was starting to make you feel physically weak. What more could you possibly throw up when you haven’t even brought yourself to so much even eat a grape in six hours? Your body was giving up all it had to give, and at this point it was only bile. You clung to the porcelain toilet wondering if this was all a test of faith. Why was everything falling apart? Why was this pregnancy so hard? Better yet, why was life so hard right now? How come you couldn’t be home with a supportive and faithful husband like believed he was at some point?

“She ain’t the only fussy one wit all that yelling you was doing at her Daddy.” JR mumbled as you walked back into the room collapsing on the bed.

“You heard all that? Sorry.” You knew you probably didn’t even need to apologize, but who really wants to come home to a bunch of drama that has nothing to do with them. JR waved you off with a nonchalant look.

“Don’t worry about. Take it easy though. You look…dehydrated.”

“Are you calling me thirsty?” You retorted with cut eyes.

“No nigga! You literally look dehydrated like you need Gatorade or coconut water. It’s some in the fridge.” JR shook his head as he readjusted Iman in his arms laying her head on his shoulder. Iman’s wails had settled to a soft whine by now.

“Thanks but I doubt that I could stomach either of those.”

“Is that normal? Being pregnant and all? That shit seem like a bad hangover and virus combined.”

“I don’t really know. I didn’t go through this with Iman. I had some cramping and nausea but this is just…ugh... Wassup? You getting ready to have a baby I don’t know about?”

“Hell nah. My niece and future nephews are enough. I got a good five to ten years before I let somebody trap me.” He shrugs.

“Excuse me? You don’t know if I’m having a boy or not. And you said nephews with an S. You trynna make me sicker something?”

“I’m just concerned with your health. It got my twin senses doing weird shit. Maybe you should try to see your doctor before your appointment? I’m trynna tell you, you’re super sick cuz you having triplets. What you gone do with four kids under 2?” JR commented earning an eye roll.  Here he goes with the twin sense stuff. Sure it’s a real thing but JR could be a bit dramatic.

“I’m NOT having triplets. Are you crazy?” JR smacks his teeth.

“I’m not crazy but me and niecey gone take a nap on the couch. If you still lookin’ like you getting ya ass whooped from the inside out in a hour, then I’m taking you to the hospital.”

4 hours later

           After enduring an hour wait in the emergency room waiting room, you had been pricked and probed too much for your liking. The past few hours consisted of countless tests and tubes of blood being drawn. You were already reluctant about going to the hospital in the first place. You would have rather gone to your regular OBGYN, but your brother insisted on taking you to the ER tonight. There was no doubting that you needed to see a doctor. How you were feeling was not the least bit normal and it was only getting worse.  

       It seemed like the nurses were more interested in your brother than what you were going through. Being that he is in the NFL, the attention was something he’d grown accustomed to. You on the other hand didn’t care. You almost snapped on one nurse who was so insistent on smiling in JR’s face, that she incorrectly inserted the IV in your arm four times. If you weren’t toting a sleeping Iman in your other arm, you probably would’ve caused a scene. At that point, JR excused himself from the room taking Iman with him. He stated that he wanted to give you privacy and limit the distractions.

           Hyperemesis Gravidarum was what the on duty physician diagnosed you with. Hyperemesis Gravidarum is a rare condition that causes sever uncontrollable nausea, vomiting, and dehydration. You stared down at your slightly protruding belly as the doctor continued to explain what the condition was. Your vision blurred as your eyes burned and your ears began to feel hot. You tried to process what the doctor was telling you but the sound of your heartbeat and breathing seemed to be battling over his voice. From what you could gather is that he was deeply concerned that you developed the condition with this pregnancy especially since it wasn’t your first. If it concerned him, it surely scared the hell out of you.

“I’d like to do an ultrasound now to make sure everything it alright with the baby. We gotta take care of mommy and baby.” He said while holding out a Kleenex box and using his free hand to pat your knee. He called over a technician who wheeled over the ultrasound machine.

“What if it’s not?” Your voice became small, almost child like. Fear was starting to get the best of you. You went through a miscarriage before and didn’t want to face another one.

“We’re going to stay hopeful, Y/N. Something tells me I know a possible answer for this condition. The circumstances can vary…” He said as he turned on the ultrasound machine before pouring the cool gel on your lower abdomen. The doctor placed the device against your abdomen causing you to slightly jump due to its warm surface catching you off guard.

           The crackling of static when the device touched your stomach was followed by the blaring rapid heartbeats offsetting each other. The doctor turned the monitor to give you a better view of the screen. Moving the device around, the doctor zoomed into a particular area. He studied the monitor and his once stoic facial expression cracked with a glint of satisfaction. Your line of sight moved from the provider’s face to the monitor before the two of you. You froze, blinking a few times to be sure you were seeing correctly. Your breathing became shallow as you opened your mouth to speak then immediately closing it. Is this really happening?  You sat there wide-eyed trying to take in this moment.

“Is that—are those—“ You attempted to ask before the doctor cut you off nodding.

“Congratulations Mommy! Looks like you’re having twins with very strong heartbeats might I add.” He announced with a smile. “Which is what I thought was triggering your condition. Would you like us to bring in the proud papa and big sister from the waiting room?”

You lowered your head shaking it as uncontrollable tears began to pour down your face. You couldn’t quite understand your own emotions.  Are you happy? Are you upset? You should be happy… right?

“H-He’s not the dad. He’s my twin brother.” You stuttered.

“How exciting! A twin having twins!” A young nurse perked up with a smile in attempts to lighten the mood. You offered her a soft smile as you wiped your eyes. There was still an obvious presence of your lack of enthusiasm.

“Are you okay Y/N?” The doctor inquired with a concerned expression, for which you simply nodded. “There are options you can discuss with your assigned OBGYN. You’re still in your first trimester, which is a trying time for a multiples pregnancy. We have a few pamphlets here that might help, but don’t hesitate to inquire about any of your concerns.”

“I understand. I’ll discuss it with her.” You said just above a whisper.

“Great, now let’s get these fluids hooked back up to your IV. I’m writing you a prescription to hopefully help with the nausea and excessive vomiting. I think you should stay overnight for observation. We really need to get a handle on your dehydration.” He stated while typing into the computer.

        Great, now you had to stay in the hospital. Who could watch Iman until your discharged? It was pretty late in the evening and JR is having an early start the next day. Your mom wasn’t exactly your greatest support system. Your grandma adored Iman but you know that Iman can be a bit of a busy body for her. You could call Nakia but there was a chance that T’Challa would tell Erik you were in the hospital. That was the last thing you wanted. They were still the best candidates. You could hardly find a baby sitter for one child, what were you going to do with three? How were you going to handle being single mother with three kids? Life comes at you fast.

       You closed your eyes for a moment laying your head back against the observation bed. You were starting to feel nauseous again. You opened them looking at the empty chair next to where the doctor placed pictures from the ultrasound with markings for baby a, and baby b. Underneath the ultrasound were the pamphlets for the options he hinted at earlier. Your hands began to sweat as you reached for them. You stared blankly at the one on top.

“It’s my body right…”

*************

Tag list

@purple-apricots @chaneajoyyy @toniilaney @wakanda-inspired @almeda-344 @desireatatyana

@wakandalivesforever @yoyolovesbucky @beaut1fulone-blog @sarcastic-sunshines

@elaindeereads @soufcakmistress @bujotellsyourstory @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir

@theblulife @leilaxaliel @uzumaki-rebellion @cutewylie @yourwonderbelle @letsshamelessqueen-m

[shainlov]

New Years Exchange!!!

@the-sociopathic-jacket I was your gifter! And this is... longer than it was supposed to, I’m so sorry.

Nemuri never forgave herself, but life moves on.

A year before Midnight joined UA staff, she had a difficult case including her family members that no hero should've go through but it’s just such a common trope.

Nemuri Kayama was forever convinced that the case of Sosuke’s killer was going to forever stay her hardest one. Even five years later, she still grieved the boy she didn’t know until a few brief moments before his demise.

If she were to guess when it all began, it would be when she got involved in the case. Though… Sosuke’s... parents would point at her pathetic hero career and shout that it was then when she went to the hero school when she started... she doomed Sosuke to death... because anyone else would’ve done a better job and saved him.

If she never went to the hero school, Sosuke would’ve never attracted the attention of that villain. Or any villain at all.

If she were a smarter woman, a braver-- If not for her incompetence he'd… well, either way, she’s never been the same.

Kayama saw horrible things, but the death of the young boy taken it’s greatest hit on her yet.

She couldn’t bear the guilt alone... she was very bad at handling her feelings on her own. She depended on people to help her to take care of herself when she was at her worst.

Of course, those people weren’t either Present Mic or Eraserhead, they barely held their emotional baggage. It was her wife who helped her through awful episodes each time.

Midnight was ever so slightly jealously looking at a monitor, watching a disgustingly romantic scene playing out between Ms. Joke and Eraserhead - it was the origin of Emi’s “marry me” joke that she repeated endlessly tormenting both Nemuri and Shouta with.

Both of her... friends were very good actors - convincing enough to make Midnight envious, even a little worried about whether they were genuine. She had to pinch herself to calm down and tell herself that Aizawa Shouta was gay. A few times.

Shouta would never answer to the advances of a person he wasn’t attracted to. Shouta would never try to hurt Nemuri either - hell, he asked many times if she was alright with his part in the operation because he knew of her silly crush.

Other than three of them at the scene, there were also two other underground heroes and a nearby police station on alert, waiting tensely for a signal. One of the extra teammates was inside the bar as an immediate back-up, while Midnight was waiting outside with the other guy. Shouta said he's never seen either of them before. It made Midnight wonder about how big the Underground Agency was.

That’s when Nemuri’s mobile meant for hero-related stuff rang. Excusing herself, she stepped out of the van, gladly distracting herself from the monitors.

“Lovely," She murmured to herself, "who’s this?” She answered in her "Midnight" voice, she didn’t recognize the number. Her fans liked to get her phone number from her agency’s site and call her. Some were sweet, while others just plain creepy.

“Mistress Midnight,” The voice on the other end of the line striked her immediately as someone dangerous. She was pretty good at reading people based off of their voice alone. Nobody in her agency had this voice and only those people addressed her as Mistress. “I’d suggest you come to your office quickly and pick it up, you have a very important message there." The person sounded almost giddy, like a little child who got a treat, or rather, in this situation, left someone a treat and wanted to see their reaction to it. With years of hero training and experience, she formed a suspect’s profile. "Time is extendable, but I don’t have forever.” This could be another freaky fan, but her gut was giving her especially bad vibe. “Ah, and don’t worry, we’re going to meet soon.”

Kayama was confused as to what the hell was that supposed to mean, but for now, she returned to the van. She was still on her mission and she had to keep the watch in case of Shouta and Emi requesting a back-up. Stepping back into the van, she bumped into the underground hero guy.

He shouted at her to get out there and "do her thing" because the operation was going to shit.

Alright then.

Nemuri counted herself as a part of the case ever since the villain called her phone which led her... home. The home of a naive pretty little girl who grew too fond of heroes and aspired to become like them.

Which resulted in the pretty little girl getting kicked out.

At 4 AM, about five hours after apprehending the villain gang and sending them into jail, Nemuri was sitting in her office.

Her leg bouncing as she looked at her phone. She had only a few saved numbers - only people she trusted were there, but there was an exception. There were two numbers saved of people she didn't trust one bit, and the missed calls came from them.

Back then, the agency building was her only home - she had a side room off of her big office - where she lived. Her office was modest, the only pieces of furniture were a desk, three leather armchairs, and her chair on wheels. The walls were covered praising articles and her posters, and also a sue for "too revealing outfit". She won that lawsuit by saying that the costume-regulation laws weren't established yet. They served as amusement for her bad mood.

In her desk's drawer, there were letters from her fans, police officers, some secret admirers and not-so-secret ones. She never responded because of her brand, and the other reason was... well, she was irreversibly lesbian. Male advances flattered her, but she wasn't interested.

"Hard to get" was helping her to sell more merchandise.

Below that drawer, she held some private things - like embarrassing photos of her cousins and aunts - and her identification documents. Only a small fraction though, she knew how things could get messy, and the most important stuff were kept in the side room, where she was the sole person who had access. It was relatively small and consisted of a pull-out couch and a wardrobe, and a small kitchen, and it connected to a bathroom with a shower and bathtub.

She used the shower at around 1 AM and ever since has been sitting motionlessly only changing the object that she was blankly staring at. The leather armchair in her office already dried from the water her wet tangled hair left.

Two notifications read:

You have missed 4 call(s) from Father

You have missed 17 call(s) from Mother

...and Midnight was… puzzled.

What was she supposed to do? The Kayamas have disowned her ages ago! What could’ve they wanted from her? They had everything! She was their disappointment! Her parents disowned her when she got into the hero school because she didn't want to play "status", and "power", and "house".

She disobeyed and went against what her parents thought was best for her. What was she even to them after all? A doll? They've married out of love and she was supposed to be sold? What's fair in that?

Pretty face, no brains and talented at dress-up games - that's what she started as. She still had little to no brain, but she wasn't useless anymore.

Surely, there was no emotional attachment to her. After all, they threw her out of her--their home. Well, not officially, and since that wasn't legal and they didn't want to be labeled as child abusers by abandoning her, they got her an apartment, moved her things and paid for it until she was 21.

She got her act together, unlocked the phone to look at dozens of missed texts.

Most of them were demanding to call back as soon as possible. When that list ended, she noticed the gap between this flood of texts and the last ones she sent them on New Year’s Eve back when she was 22 and hoped that she could fix their relationship... somehow.

So, not minding the hour, she called. It took two attempts - each to different parent - before Mother picked up. Her voice sounded… weary.

“Hello?”

“What happened?” Midnight didn’t quite sit well with the fact she was talking to her parents after promising herself to not look back.

“Nemuri?” The surprise in the woman’s voice that answered the phone was no wonder - she didn’t hear Nemuri’s voice for straight-up over ten years.

“Yeah. Why were you calling me?”

“Well… it’s about Sosuke, yo-- my son.” Nemuri flinched at that.

Of course, her parents wouldn’t know about her being aware of who Sosuke Kayama was. Her mother didn’t tell her she was pregnant, she officially hasn’t met him, she never talked with him. Nemuri was disowned sixteen years ago, and Sosuke was fourteen.

When she heard her mother went into labor, she sneaked into the hospital to greet her replacement and wish him good luck, but after that, she didn’t make any effort to contact him.

“What about him?” She kept her voice flat.

“He’s been kidnapped and it’s your fault.” Kayama Saori’s voice was sweet in her perfume commercials, but now it made Nemuri want to throw up. She leaned forward with her ear pressed to the phone. The heroine didn’t know whether she wanted to start apologizing or to throw the phone yelling that it wasn’t her fault.

“It’s not. Did you call to send me hate mail?” For the first few moments, it didn’t reach Nemuri that she was talking about a kidnapping over a phone. She never came to accept that her mother and father rejected her. So now, thoughts processed slower than usual.

“They want you to be the one to find him. You HAVE TO do this.”

“They?” Nemuri frowned, slightly surprised her mother hasn’t broken into wails yet. That was unusual…

“Yes. Whoever did this.”

It’s a game then?

Midnight bit at her thumb frustrated. Her little brother-- Sosuke was in danger because of her hero career? Was that true?

“I’ll call the police to question you, I am not a detective.” She said simply going for the disconnect button.

“No police or else he will be killed. Hurry.” Her mother hissed before she hung up. That left Nemuri frozen in her seat. So it was because of her.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21848440

[stupidassdecisions]

Angels Fall Chapter 7 - An FP Jones X OC Fanfiction

*Authors Note: I am changing Skye’s age. She is no longer 17 and a junior, she is 18 and a senior so she is of age.

August 18th

Later as it turned out, would come later than Skye was hoping for, as the next week forced Skye to be a bit preoccupied...

It was the Monday morning after the homecoming pep rally, and Skye was staring up at her ceiling, awake before her alarm was supposed to go off. The whole weekend had gone by in a blur, Skye barely remembered anything since she walked back to the game Friday night after her and FP’s…moment. But now it was Monday and it was time for school and homework and college applications. Early admission deadlines were closing in fast and every day Alice was putting more and more pressure on Skye. Skye knew what she wanted and where she wanted to go but now with whatever was happening between herself and FP and Polly locked away in some institution placed a large dampener on her eagerness for college.

The shrill sound of her alarm shook her out of her thoughts as she sighed, sitting up in bed and running a hand over her face in exhaustion. Grabbing her phone from her nightstand she glanced over her messages, looking for one from FP but like yesterday and the day before, there was none. She didn’t expect one to be there, but she hoped she would have heard something by now. She tossed her phone back on the bed before rising and throwing on her outfit she had set out on her dresser. Throwing her hair up into a ponytail, she ran down the stairs, grabbing a bagel from the counter and her sweater from the hall closet before hopping in her truck and heading in the direction of Rosewood High, hoping to get there early to discuss letters of recommendation with a few of her teachers.

Later that morning, as Skye was at her locker getting her books for her next class, she saw Sheriff Keller and Principal Weatherbee escorting a one Cheryl Blossom down the hall, Skye turning her head as they passed, a look of confusion on her face as she watched the redhead go by. She wanted to see what the commotion was all about but the bell rang suddenly and Skye had to get to class. It wasn’t until Skye got home that evening that she was filled in on all the gossip from both Betty and Alice, the latter of whom was giddy with the idea of having a juicy story to write up. Skye didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t come up with any reason why Jason would want to even run away in the first place, he had always seemed so loyal to the Blossom family. She wondered if his and Poll’s brutal breakup had anything to do with it, because nothing had felt right in this town since that day.

August 19th

The next morning, Skye made it only a few yards into the school before she became aware of the whisperings going on around her, a few of them looking in her direction. Suddenly nervous, she stood by her locker, trying to listen in to a couple of gossiping cheerleaders behind her. What if someone saw FP and her behind the school? But then she heard something she wasn’t expecting, Veronica’s name. And Chuck Claytons. Followed by the words ‘sticky maple’. Oh hell no. Chuck Clayton was the greasiest, slimiest douchebag that ever walked the halls of Riverdale High. She would need more hands to count the number of times he had asked her out, wanting to defile the innocent Cooper daughter in more ways than one. And while she was still getting to know the new girl, Betty and Veronica had become inseparable in the few weeks they had known each other and any friend of her sisters was a friend of Skye’s. She found the two storming out of the men's locker room, red in the face and fists clenched.

“Whoa girls, take a breather before you pop a vein.”

“I will not rest until that greaseball pays for what he has done. Who does he think he is?” Veronica fumed.

“I’m with you Ronnie, whatever you need me to do to help, count me in. It’s time someone stands up to him. You aren’t the first girl he has done this too, but I assure you, you will be the last.

“Thanks Skye. Now, Ethel says Trev Brown mentioned something about a book…”

That night, Skye, Betty, and Veronica drove to the high school dressed in all black, Skye armed with a crowbar. She swiftly pulled out a bobby pin and picked the lock to the front doors of the school, winking at the younger girls when the lock clicked back and the doors opened. They creeped down the hallways.

“Color me impressed! A B and E with B and V. What would your holy roller mother say about this, Betty?” Cheryl’s piercing voice startled the girls.

“What are you doing here, Cheryl?” Skye questioned her old friend.

“Ah Skye. Naturally you’d be here too. Trev told Valerie, who told Josie, who told Ginger, who told Tina, who told me. And I thought I would help out.”

“Help? Or derail our investigation?”

“Get over yourself, Skye.”

Ignoring the red heads presence, they finally found the playbook, and Skye was growing more and more disgusted by what they found with each page they turned.

“New girl? Is that what I'm reduced to? Nine points?” Veronica chimed, finding her name at the bottom of the list.

“Better than "Big girl. Seven point five.”

“Wait, there’s Polly. Next to.. Jason?” Skye felt a pang in her chest. Her poor sister. How could she not have known?

“I'm so sorry, Betty, Skye.”

“This isn't Jason, he would never-” Cheryl was cut off from her excuses.

“It's right there, Cheryl! God. Your brother hurt my sister. This is what guys like Jason and Chuck think about women. We're objects for them to abuse, and when they're done with us, they shame us into silence.They have zero remorse for the lives they destroy. And somehow it is our fault, for making ourselves the victims” Skye ranted, feeling sick to her stomach.

She dropped Veronica and Betty off at home, saying she needed some air. She walked around town, not really sure where she was heading. Clenching her fists in her sweatshirt pockets, she was consumed with thoughts.

Jason and Polly seemed so in love, but was it really all a game to him? He was nothing but a dirty liar. He tricked her and then left her and broke her heart and now Polly, her best friend and twin sister, was sitting alone in some mental hospital because of that ass. And for the first time, Skye was no longer upset that the boy was dead. Perhaps, as her mother had said, he got what he deserved.  Perhaps he was better off dead.  Looking down, she clenched her hands and removed them from the pockets to find blood dripping down them, crescent moon shaped cuts lining her palms. Shit.

She didn’t realize she had crossed the tracks until she looked up again, seeing a sign for the White Wyrm up ahead.

What the hell? She thought, before heading towards the bar.

Opening the door, the dimly lit bar let out a waft of warm air, the stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol were easy to pick out. Stepping in, she suddenly felt out of place, but luckily the bar’s inhabitants were engaged in drinking, darts, pool, or conversations to notice her entrance. She walked in further, hoping her dark outfit made her blend in at least a little, her hood pulled up over her blonde head in further attempt at a disguise. Skye made her way to the bar, biting down on her lip. She had never done anything like this before, defied rules, gone out past curfew. But it wasn’t nervousness she was feeling, it was excitement. She liked the way she felt being in control of her own actions.

“Can I get a Jack and Coke please?” Skye called out, trying to fit in as much as possible. The bartender looked hard at her, as if her was trying to figure out who she was, before nodding and getting her the drink without a word. The drink was slid down the bar top towards her, and she caught it before bringing the drink to her lips. She took a sip, trying to hold back a cough as the alcohol burned her throat. She had had a few sips of wine before, maybe a glass of champagne at a cousins wedding, but god if Alice could see her now, she’d have a conniption. Taking a few more sips before throwing back the rest of the drink, she stared into the glass deep in thought. Another drink appeared before her and she downed that one too. She felt alive and she liked it.

Just as she was about to finish a third drink, a hand came from behind her, snatching up her glass.

“Hey that’s mine you can’t just-” she stopped in her tracks as she turned around to face the drink thief, only to find herself the victim of FP’s dark gaze.

“What are you doing Skye? You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was low, but there was a sense of frustration or anger in his voice which confused her.

“What, you aren’t happy to see me? You said you’d see me later.” The alcohol making her more stubborn and courageous.

FP looked around to see if anyone was listening too or watching the interaction, then looked down at her again.

“I can’t have this conversation here Skye. Now come on, I’m taking you home. Did you drive here?”

“Nope. Walked. Sue me.” The drink was hitting her hard, she wondered exactly how much coke was in the jack and coke, if any. She raised her hands in mock defense, only for them to be captured by FP’s larger ones. She liked their warmth, she remembered how they felt on her waist, on her cheek, in her hair,

“Skye, what happened? You're bleeding.”

“It’s nothing, just an accident. It’s fine.” She yanked her hands away from him, placing them back into her pockets.

Before she could protest, his hand was on her back, guiding her to a dim hallway where she noticed restroom signs hanging above. He led her to the first aid kit hanging from the wall, before sitting her down on a nearby stool. He gathered a band aid, some wipes, and some antibiotic ointment from the kit, then set to work on her palms, Skye watching his every move. When he was finished, he pulled her up from the stool and walked her out the back door, not saying a word.

He walked over to a motorcycle, sitting down and fastening a helmet on his head. He glanced at Skye, who was awkwardly standing to the side, before grabbing another helmet and holding it out to her.

“Get on” was all he said, motioning to the space behind him.

She stepped up to the cycle, a little nervous, before climbing on and clumsily securing the helmet on her head. Unsure what to do, she paused a moment before FP grabbed her hands gingerly, avoiding disturbing the cuts, and wrapped Skye’s arms around his torso. She felt her face flush as she rested her head between his shoulder blades before the roar of the engine signified their departure. Skye closed her eyes and held on tightly, praying she wouldn't fall off.

When she opened her eyes again, it was because the movement had stopped and the rumbling engine was shut off. She was expecting to see the white columns of her childhood home, but instead she saw an unlit trailer ahead of her. FP’s trailer. She began stammering about why he brought her here, that she needed to get home.

“Give me your phone.” Skye complied, handing it over. She saw him typing something before locking the phone and returning it to her.

“What did you do.”

“I texted Alice telling her you were called in for an emergency shift at the clinic.”

“Why am I here? You said you were taking me home.”

“I was going to, but realized if you showed up at home on a motorcycle, drunk, and with me, Alice would kill us both.”

Skye nodded in agreement, before following FP up the few stairs to the front door. Entering the trailer, she saw beer bottles on every surface, old takeout containers in the kitchen, clothes strewn aimlessly about. FP must have felt embarrassed about the state of his trailer in her presence as once he sather down and gave her a cup of cold coffee, he grabbed a trash bag and dumped all the old containers and bottles into it, pushing the clothes into the closet. He then disappeared for a minute, before returning and handing her one of his t-shirts and some sweatpants.

“Here, you can wear these. The bedroom is right back there. I’ll take the couch.” He looked down at her where she was sitting.

“Thank you FP.” She searched his face for any sign of emotion. Finding nothing but exhaustion, she took the clothed from his hands and walked back towards the bedroom.

Slipping out of her clothes, she threw on the t shirt that swallowed her small frame and attempted to wear the sweatpants but they kept falling down around her ankles. Settling for just the t shirt, which fell mid-thigh, she padded across the trailer back to the living room, where FP was on the couch, his head in his hands.

“Hey.” She called to him softly.

“Hey.”

“Did I do something wrong? After our last meeting I thought you wanted to see me again.”

FP looked up at the girl motioning for her to take the seat next to him. Skye sheepishly sat down next to him, placing her hands in her lap. He shifted his focus to her, taking one of his hands in his, tracing the band aid on her palm.

“I did, do want to see you again Skye. I just don’t know why you want anything to do with me, I’m bad news Skye. And you have your whole life ahead of you. People around here wouldn’t understand you and me and I don’t want you to ruin your life when you have the whole world to explore. Seeing you at the bar tonight, drowning yourself with alcohol, I can’t let you go down that road and with me, that’s what will happen.”

“I haven’t seen Polly since before Jason died. He used her and then he left and I don’t know where my sister is. Maybe he loved her, more likely he didn’t. She’s my sister FP, my twin. We shared everything, did everything together. Then she disappeared. My mom says shes getting help but I know she’s lying. I should be worried about Polly, scared because a murder happened down the street from where I live. I should want to run far, far away from Riverdale but I don’t. I just don’t want to be lied to anymore. So don’t lie to me FP. Please. Just tell me the truth.” Skye met his dark eyes, letting him see her pain, her emotions, through her eyes. “Do you want me FP?”

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and Skye shifted uncomfortably, taking her hand away from the older man. She was embarrassed and if it weren't for the alcohol that was clouding her mind, she never would have said anything but tonight she was desperate. Not for sex, but for truth, for answers.

Finally, after what felt like eons, he answered.

“Yes”

Tag List:

@reddhead95  @tblyler  @54fangirl @twigleektribute23 @ashxbyers @lilybellsworld @chipster-21 @imagineeveryfandom @soulslaststand @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

[scipunk63]

Max’s Parents: Kangaroo Court

Summary: David begins coming up with a case on a napkin from the hospital.

.

It had been so long since he last slept that he had forgotten already about his injuries... As everything hurt an equal amount now but he was too focused to let any of it bother him. Nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t cure... Whenever that could be next. He was on a role now and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him-

RING! RING! RIn-

Except for maybe his phone.

“Hello?” David hummed, propping the phone between his shoulder and chin.

“DAVID!” Gwen’s voice was certainly a surprise. “What the hell? Max said you were in the hospital for fighting his dad!”

“T-the hospital and then the police station.” David admitted, “Gwen, can this wait? I’m working on something very important.”

“Does it have anything to do with you fighting a camper’s parent? David, they could sue us for that!” Gwen yelled, “And I had nothing to do with it!”

“Actually, they can sue me, but the camp wasn’t liable for the accident.” David coughed into his hand. “And yes, that IS what I’m working on.”

“Oh no! You are going right the fuck to bed and I’m coming over to make sure you did!” She sounded serious, but David was just too gosh darn determined to let anyone stop him. Even his co-councilor. It was the off season, he didn’t need her permission for anything. 

“NO, Gwen.” He pouted, “I’m sorry for raising my voice but- You don’t get a say in what I do off-season. I’m a grown ass man and my relationship with Max and his family- as strained as it may be- is mind. I’ll be damned if I have anyone above a court of law saw how I should handle a situation that I know in my heart to be wrong.” 

“Wrong!? So they missed an event and didn’t want their son to be friends with his much older camp councilor. Big deal. That doesn’t mean you can go beating them up!” Gwen sounded like she was on the end of her rope with David already.

“His father was going to slap him-” Usually, David would have agreed with her in an instant. But it was seeing what Max’s father was capable of when provoked to attack, not just by David but by Max as well. It just rubbed him in all the wrong ways, especially after seeing how much the whole thing meant to Max.   

“Parents slap their kids! Its discipline!” Okay, calm David was gone.

“Parents DON’T slap their children for talking about how they feel!” David snapped. 

“David, this is completely irrational!” Gwen groaned, “What do you hope to do if you DO manage to adopt Max anyway?” 

David felt his back teeth grind together. He knew she had a point. Every rational thinking part of his brain agreed with her to the fullest extent, but there was still that part of him that didn’t. The part that had committed to memory the way Max had cried over his parents, or the way his actions made more sense the more David got to know Alexis and James, or even the pleading look in his eyes whenever he had to part company with him and return to his home. It was the saddest sight for David. Truly it was, and that spoke much louder to him. 

Protecting Max was more important than anything.

“I don’t know, Gwen.” He finally admitted. “I don’t know what will happen, but I do know that Max doesn’t like his situation and I would do anything to help him.”

“David-” 

“Goodnight, Gwen. I’ll see you in the summer.” With that, he hung up the phone. Looking at his napkin, he frowned a little at it. It looked so bleak and meaningless now. Like it belonged in the trash instead of on his desk being worked on-

RING, RING, RIn-

“What is it now, Gw-”

“Its Max, dumbass.” Max said, “Just calling to see if you’re alright.”

“O-oh! Sorry. I’m fine.” David replied. 

“Good. I’m still over at Neil’s and I’m bored out of my mind!” Max huffed, “Mom said she’d be picking me up soon, but that sounds like a load of crap to me.”

“Max, in the time I’ve known her, she seems like your more rational parent.” David said. He hadn’t realize how much he almost missed Max being a complete and utter jackass to him. Even if that was an after effect of his parents.

“Oh please, if anyone is the rational parent its yo-” Max cut himself off quickly. “Nevermind. I’m hanging up now!”

“Max, after what happened I’m not sure if I fall into the category of ‘Rational’ anymore.” He sighed. 

“I don’t either, but I can still think that you are.” Max said. “Anyhow- You said Gwen talked to you?”

“I never said that exact thing, but yes she did.” David admitted. “She was going to come over to make sure I went to bed, but I’m working on something.”

“Is it a case to get me away from my parents?” 

“Maybe.” Not a complete lie. 

“Damn it, David. Quit beating around the bush!” Max exclaimed. “Is it or not?

“Max, I got into a fist fight with your father because I saw him about to slap you.” David said, “OF COURSE IT IS!”

“Holy shit, David! You’re still fighting this!? That is so- This is-” 

“Yes?”

“Fucking awesome! If your stupid ass still believes in it then we might have an actual chance!” 

It was almost nice that David’s blind determination was a beacon of hope for Max... In a way.

“Thank you so m- Why the fuck am I still talking to you!? Get writing David!” Max exclaimed happily, “Night!”

“Goodnight to you too, Max.” David smiled as he heard the phone line go dead.

He sat in his chair for a moment, looking at his napkin until suddenly... Dread washed over him. That stupid napkin probably meant the world to Max, and nothing meant anything to that hopeless kid... If David didn’t execute something quickly and flawlessly- if he failed in his goal, then he didn’t want to think about what it would do to Max. He didn’t want to think about a child loosing their last shining light in their lives.

For the first time ever, he actually cried. 

Cried for Max, for Alexis, even James. He cried for himself and the summer of letting things go on as they did. Most importantly, he cried out of fear of the unknown, infinite number of outcomes to this situation. 

[thewallofmilessimpson]

Seems like Miles lives in fantasy land, everyone is a POS, except for Miles of course

Miles Simpson <simp2172@bellsouth.net>To:Kevin StrattonSun, Mar 25, 2018 at 5:58 PMHello Kevin, I had my back surgery thursday and I’m better. I was able to stand up friday with a lot of difficulty so they let me come home. I’m still sore but I’m much better and home. I’m going to Covington next week and buy a new mattress. I have a Tempur-pedic memory foam top dollar one but I’m tired of it. It’s hard for me to turn over. It doesn’t give like a regular mattress. The hospital bed I was in was a killer. A hospital staff woman ask me before I left how was the nursing staff and I told her excellent but you couldn’t give me that bed for free. My weak ass I can’t roll over to my right and barely to my left. The best example I can give is it feels to me like I’m laying in a ditch or apiece of 2’ diameter pipe so if I try to roll right or left I’m trying to roll up the side of a concave angle. Sheila fell and fractured her femur bone and is walking with a walker and using my manual wheelchair. She’s still taking care of pos Rita’s kids. Rita has total control over Sheila even monitor’s her phone calls. It’s freaking crazy weird and sad. Tom Benson died. I hope his wife doesn’t move the Saints. She seams to be a money loving woman and may do it for more money. More money more money more money! Later brother man I’m going to chill horizonal for a while. Miles On Mar 17, 2018, at 10:03 AM, Kevin Stratton <johnst13@yahoo.com> wrote: > I saw this in a magazine and thought of you. > > All the Best! > > Contrary to ordinary there is nothing like a dream to create the future! > > Kevin Stratton > Roatan Island Real Estate - Owner/Broker > johnst13@yahoo.com > Office: 011-504-2445-4168 > Cell: 011-504-9922-5638 > www.roatanislandrealestate.com > www.guanajasales.com > * Member of NAR > * Member Roatan Real Estate Association >  and Canabirh Association of Honduras > * Owner of Roatan Island Home Inspections >  for Construction and Home Inspections > * Fiberglass Swimming Pools<Ask Miles.jpg>

Miles Simpson <simp2172@bellsouth.net>To:Kevin StrattonThu, Mar 29, 2018 at 10:23 AMHey Kevin, I really don’t know what they used but I don’t think it was a laser. Surgeon’s can do amazing things with the human body. They will heal you or kill you one. I still talk like a frog from the thing they stick down your throat when they knock you out but my back is still doing good so I’m happy. The rain has arrived. Probably rain most of the day. I like to smoke and fuck on rainy days. Will only do one today but as soon as I win the power ball the pussy will come. I have two gators in the pond now. A 6 or 7 footer and a 3 footer. Both won’t come close enough for me to shoot them. A friend is bringing over some gumbo. Talk to ya later Amigo. Miles On Mar 26, 2018, at 11:29 AM, Kevin Stratton <johnst13@yahoo.com> wrote: > Good morning Miles > > Glad to hear your back surgery went good. What did they do? Not the laser one I was asking about. > Wow not being able to turn over to get out of bed is going to be a problem sooner than later. Do you think > you can work on getting that strength back so you can do it by yourself? Or there is a powered machine > that can pick you up and swing you over kind of like the ones you see to get you into a pool. You know > you don't want to go into a nursing home. A home nurse coming by twice a day to help you out during > the times she stops by. No coffee in a nursing home would drive you crazy. It would to me too. I hope a > new harder mattress would help you get out of bed by yourself. So you can push off easier. > Wow Shelia can really fuckup when she try's.  And that daughter of her's running her is so crazy that > I almost feel sorry for her but not much at all. > I heard that Benson died but that was to be expected. I'll bet his wife sells the team and the new owner > might move the team to who ever pays the most. Maybe someone like Jazy and his wife Beyonce and > P'didy or Drew Breese. Or the Mannings? Still working on my roof and trying to sell properties to keep the > work going. Sorry but got to run. I hope you keep getting better! > > > All the very best my friend! > > k

Miles SimpsonHey Kevin, I haven’t written in a while because it’s the same olds shit around here. No news to tell. The gumbo I mention a friend brought was chicken and sausage. He had a big pot and rice he even brought a new pack of Glad 1 Qt plastic containers and put up 7 Qt’s in my freezer while I was eating a Qt. His name is Kevin also. He’s really a buddy to my nephew but a friend to me too. I only see him when he comes fishing. You said you might build a motorcycle garage. Grandpaw built one for his HondaMon, Apr 9, 2018 at 3:27 PM

Miles Simpson <simp2172@bellsouth.net>To:Kevin StrattonWed, Apr 11, 2018 at 1:15 PMHi Kevin, Yup that’s what they did to me. I had a bulging disc putting pressure on my nerve. When I was getting the steroid shots in my back the doctor’s assistant looked at my mri last year and said I didn’t need surgery. The surgeon said after the surgery my disc was worse than what showed up on the mri. I’m soooooooo glad I had the surgery at least so far. Sue’s brother Wayne came over last week and we smoked 40 lbs of chicken quarters. We did 20 lbs then took them off and put on another 20. The last batch only took 2 hours since the smoker was already up to temp. We then vacuum sealed them and he took 10 lbs and Karen my house cleaner took 10 and I kept 20 lbs. The dam quarters come off giant chickens! Ten lb bag has 9 quarters! The last ones I smoked were the same way. I gave Sheila $4,000 monday the 9th. The 8th was one year since Mom died. Three years ago I bought Sheila a $3,000 lawn mower. Two years ago I gave her $3,000 for a down payment for a car she’s about to lose now for being 2 months late on her note. Now $4,000 cash. Enough is enough! That’s $10K in three years. She feels and looks like the walking dead. She has no help to help her keep the place up. Rita has NEVER mowed the yard or even tried to. I wish I had the strength to beat her up but I don't! Pelican’s play their last game tonight against the Spurs. It’s a big game towards the rankings for the playoffs. Later, Miles On Apr 9, 2018, at 4:45 PM, Kevin Stratton <johnst13@yahoo.com> wrote: > Wow that was a surgery to watch. Was that exactly what they did to you? Did you have a chipped broken piece of bone off a vertebrata like in the video? > Sorry I can not be there to help you get around and make it easier on you just living in the house. I am working on being able to come if you ever really need me to. > As I sure wish I lived closer right now. I need to finish the work on my house and not run broke doing it. So I have to keep earning and not retiring as yet like I wanted to when I hit 66. I will be 68 next week on the 13th. Yep Friday the 13th this time. And hopefully no bad luck for me as I sure don't need any at this time. I would like to taste the gumbo . Even chicken and sausage sounds good to me as I miss Louisiana cooking like that and crawfish boils. Nothing like that here. I need a good gumbo recipe as I can follow directions pretty good as I do most of the good cooking here at home now. I just made a pot of shrimp and hot Italian sausage with Alfredo sauce with noodles. It has allot of other ingredients to make it a bigger pot to make it for more people and freeze some. > The roof is completely done and we are enclosing the outside walls to get them ready for new windows in the next week or so. > I was out walking a parcel of land 5.5 acres with the owner from Colorado. He is looking to buy a 1.25 acres along side his property to help get a access > out to a main road. Right now his 5.5 acres is land locked with no access. They are asking a arm and leg for the 1.25 acres as it has 165 foot of beachfront > which we are always running out of on a island as they are not making anymore beachfront in the best area. !0 years ago he bought the 5.5 acres for $550,000 > and they are asking at this time $670,000 for the 1.25 acres right next to him and they started at $735,000. We are still trying to get the seller down in price. But > part of this deal is the seller has to get a road to the property and he still need a old family member to give him access to get to his 1.25 acres as part of this deal to make it happen but they are holding up saying they have not determined the cost of getting the road through and paying off the relative to let it happen as we want > a deeded recorded access to make it fit our needs. Both parcels of land will be worth something like $2,000,000 when it is finished and it works out. My buyer that I have been working with for 10 years or so has big bucks. He owns the largest outfitting store in Steamboat Springs Colorado for skiing and like a Bass Pro outfitter or a Cabela's. > What are you going to do for your sister? Anything? I know you do not want to. And she would be back for more no matter how much you give her. > I still have my fingers crossed for you to win the power-ball. I hope the Saints get a good draft and then pickup a couple of good older players in free agent market. > And build a good team for Drew's last couple of years and make a real run for the Superbowl again one more time. I still try and catch as many NBA games as possible. > And the playoffs start on the 14th of this month. I still have not picked a team to win as yet but I think it wont be the Toronto Raptors even if they are the number 1 one seed at this time. > > Write you again soon and keep getting better! > > k > Contrary to ordinary there is nothing like a dream to create the future! > > Kevin Stratton > Roatan Island Real Estate - Owner/Broker > johnst13@yahoo.com > Office: 011-504-2445-4168 > Cell: 011-504-9922-5638 > www.roatanislandrealestate.com > www.guanajasales.com > * Member of NAR > * Member Roatan Real Estate Association >  and Canabirh Association of Honduras > * Owner of Roatan Island Home Inspections >  for Construction and Home Inspections > * Fiberglass Swimming Pools<Ask Miles.jpg>

[turnabouttoothbrush]

Reckoning, Chapter Twelve

Today’s sporkers: Chill, Kiri, and Anna.

Anna: I just realized that in the last sporking, we said we were going to update @askprincessmyshkin in the next week.

Chill: Boy, that sure ended up happening, didn’t it?

Kiri: We literally don’t have an excuse anymore. All we’ve done for the past couple weeks is just lay in bed and slowly starve ourselves.

Anna: Shhh.

Chill: Roll fic!!

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Just thinking," he said. I smiled, but felt a little bitter.

"Just thinking…" I said, "about Luxord?" He didn't answer me and I knew I was right. "Did he injure your heart or your mind?" I asked, sliding my fingers along his chest. I was surprised when he shivered as I touched him. When he still didn't answer, I pushed him down gently.

"What are you doing Roxas?" He asked, clearly surprised as I kissed first his chest then his forehead, both deliberately slowly and lovingly.

"Whenever my dad would get angry and hit me when I was little, before my mother passed, she'd kiss me where I was hurt like that and I'd feel better," I said, running my fingers along the tattoos on his cheeks. "Was I wrong?" I asked, widening my eyes a little.

Axel smiled at me warmly. "No," he said, "I feel much better."

Kiri: *yawn*

I smiled down at the red-head, glad that I'd made him feel better.

Chill: I don’t know if anyone’s brought this up before-

Kiri: Probably, this sporking’s running on a bit long and we’re not rereading previous chapters before doing a new one.

Anna: When are we doing another intermission, again?

Chill: Anyway, this fic has a tendency of just kind of ending the chapter randomly in the middle of a scene and then picking up again literally half a second later in the next chapter. It’s really annoying, like, why end the chapter there? There’s no reason to.

Anna: Yeah, ending a chapter mid-scene should only happen if it’s a cliffhanger.

Chill: The way this fic is, it’s like the chapters just ended wherever the author decided they didn’t feel like writing anymore that day.

Kiri: Considering how short the chapters are, I believe that actually is the case.

"So are you gonna tell me about yourself?" I asked, still draped over him.

Axel laughed. "That's a lot of information. What do you want to know?" I pursed my lips, looking upward in thought. What to ask, what to ask… I ended up with going with the first thing off of the top of my head.

"Have you always worn boxers?" I asked.

Chill: Ah, I see we’re getting into the deepest facets of his characterization here. *nodnod*

I could tell he hadn't expected that, and saw amusement flash across his face before he laughed lightly.

"Yeah," he said, "have you? Or have you only ever worn mine?" he asked, fingering the black fabric he was referring to. I flushed a little before nodding, making him laugh again. I thought some more then asked more questions that came to mind.

"How did you become the leader of this gang?

Anna: Why does he have to stop and ponder twice before thinking to ask such an obvious question?

Kiri: Because he’s dumb. Next question.

Tell me about your family. Do you have any?" I asked, hoping I wasn't asking too much at once.

Axel looked at the ceiling searchingly for a few moments as if wondering where to begin. "I never knew my parents," Axel finally said. "My grandfather, who was the original head of my gang,

Kiri: Is this a street gang or the fucking mafia?

Chill: I don’t think the author knows the difference.

Anna: I think the only research the author did was watch West Side Story once or twice.

Chill: With The Godfather in between...?

didn't like my mother, so when my father died soon after we were born he took us away from her. He was very… influential."

"Us?" I asked.

Axel nodded, "Yeah, my twin brother Reno and I." Ahh, Reno. The person Axel'd killed Vexen for.

Anna: *as Roxas* He’d seemed unimportant, so I’d forgotten about him.

Axel paused, looking up at the ceiling again as he thought. "For some reason, the old man always liked me more, so when he passed on, he made me the leader of his gang about five years ago, not leaving Reno anything. Reno wasn't too happy about it. We ended up having a falling out and he left. I didn't hear any news of him until he joined Vexen's gang about a year ago just to spite me, since he knew that I hated the man and we were huge rivals."

Kiri: This is organized crime we’re talking about. He wouldn’t join a rival gang out of spite. He’d join a rival gang for a means to kill members of your gang, i.e. you, considering the jerk grandfather is dead. Yet you phrase it like he decided to go to a college whose sports team is at odds with grandpappy’s alum.

Anna: Again, West Side Story.

Kiri: People died in West Side Story!

He paused again to look at me. "I'd finally worked things out with him though about a month before I saw you for the first time," He said. "We'd just gotten on good terms again when got killed by Vexen."

"Your gang was started by your grandfather?" I asked,

Chill: *as Roxas* Your grandfather lived long enough to meet his grandchildren? And knew who his bastard children were well enough to know when they had bastards of their own?!

Kiri: I’d say the author has a romanticized view of gang life, but that would imply that it’s on some level based on reality.

thinking about the first thing he'd said and wanting to wipe the look of regret off of his face. I'd raised a question in my mind, even more so when he nodded. "But when we were at the hospital, a doctor said that the gang was new."

"Well," said Axel, "Most people confuse it for being new, since I implemented a lot of drastic changes and changed more or less everything.

Kiri: Of course, how he changed things will never be addressed.

Chill: But we know it involves more burning people alive! :D

Although my grandfather liked me, I wasn't so fond of him," Axel said a little bitterly. "I suppose it is newer than most of the gangs in town. Most've been around for far longer." I blinked, remembering what Zexion had said about using fire, wondering if that was new, but didn't press about it at all. I didn't want Axel to be mad at Zexion.

Anna: Considering it’s obviously part of the gang’s reputation, you could just say you heard it somewhere else.

Chill: Nah. Axel knows that Roxas doesn’t go anywhere or do anything without him and/or his cronies. Hearing it somewhere else implies Roxas has been somewhere else.

Anna: Oof.

"Why did you try to get to know me? What about me caught your attention?" I asked. The question had been brought on by the mention of Vexen.

Kiri: And totally not a desire to flatter your own ego.

Axel smiled, staring into my eyes once again.

"At first," he said, looking away as though he felt guilty, "I just wanted to steal you away from Vexen because we were rivals. Call it childish of me, but it's true."

Chill: Wow, literally admitting you see your partner as property/an object to be stolen and showboated. What number red flag is this by now?

Anna: It could be worse. It could be HIEQ2.

Chill: Hmmm.

I was about to scoff at him but then he opened his mouth to continue. "Even from a distance, I could tell that you were really pretty," he said, looking at me again, "but when I saw you up close, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen," he added, making me flush a little.

Kiri: *as Axel* So since you’re so hot and all, I figured that’d make for even better showboating, and the rest is history.

He smiled suddenly, at the remembrance our first encounter. "When you wouldn't look at me, even when we were alone, up until you rejected me, I became even more interested in you," he said

Anna: Telegraphing a lack of interest makes him more interested? What kinda creepy rapist shit is this?

Chill: +1 to the red flag count!

"What about after I rejected you?" I asked. "How did you feel about me then?"

"I wasn't resentful about it," he said, sighing, "Just… confused and a little upset. You were the first person to ever reject me in my entire life.

Kiri: Well, that explains the creepy rapist shit.

Chill: Haha, he’s just like the “One way or another, you will be mine!” villain from some bodice-ripping Mary Sue romance. They’re so used to having women ukes swooning at their feet that when the Strong and Independent™ Don’t Need No Man©️ lead rejects him, he gets obsessed and starts twirling his mustache and stuff.

Kiri: The main difference here is that Axel is not a villain and is, in fact, the love interest.

Anna: Didn’t Vexen have the exact same attitude, though?

I honestly was wondering if there was something wrong with me," He said. The statement made me feel guilty and angry at Vexen. "I almost didn't kill Vexen because I thought that you were happy," he said, recapturing my attention.

Anna: Seriously? He was gonna abandon his revenge quest just because the object of his vengeance had a hot boyfriend who might get sad?

"What made you change your mind?" I asked, shocked.

"Xaldin assured me that you were far from being even remotely happy," Axel said staring angrily at the ceiling. I made a mental note to thank Xaldin later. "He wouldn't say why, just that you weren't," Axel continued. "It was most likely to stop me from doing anything stupid, like going after the bastard all by myself."

Kiri: I don’t understand how these two concepts are related.

I nodded, remembering how he'd saved me from my dad all on his own. Not the wisest choice he'd made. He'd almost died for it.

"You would've forgone your plans for revenge for Reno, stood off to the side and watched me be happy with somebody else, just so that I could be happy? Even after I'd rejected you and even though you didn't know me?" I asked. I'd still been subconsciously tracing the tattoos on Axel's cheeks, but stopped as soon as I'd asked.

Axel looked at me. "Yes,"

Anna:

he said. "Perhaps I was just being irrational because I liked you a lot, call it love at first sight if you will, and I didn't want to hurt you."

I felt myself flush a little deeper at the confession. "Axel…" I whispered when a hand found its way to my face, caressing my cheek.

"I'm glad that I didn't have to though," he said. I smiled down at him.

"Me too," I whispered back.

Chill: This is corny. I thought I was corny.

Kiri: This scene exceeded WAFF and went to, I dunno, food poisoning.

Anna: Is it really WAFF if it’s got rape in it, though?

Kiri: There isn’t any in this chapter...

"Thanks for today," I said, after a long pause. "The funeral, the drive, the fissure; thank you so much for everything."

"…Roxas," Axel said, hesitantly.

"Yeah, Axel?" I asked.

"First, any more questions?" he asked. I shook my head no.

Kiri: Yo. Why was there a linebreak between this section of text and the last? It’s the same scene.

Chill: Not like we’d changed POV either or anything like that...

Anna: The author got bored mid-scene and ended it there for the day, then continued the chapter tomorrow. And failed to realize that just because you took a break writing there doesn’t actually mean you should put in a linebreak.

Kiri: It’s literally the same scene!

"Can I kiss you then?" he asked quickly after that, searching my face to see how I was taking his question. I was honestly surprised he'd asked. I'd never been asked for permission before.

I stared down at him, wide-eyed until he looked away. "Never mind," he said, sighing lightly and looking away. I scoffed at him for giving up before I'd even given him an answer. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to kiss me or not right at that moment, but the action had made me a little angry.

Chill: lol calm down

Gripping his chin I made him look at me. "Roxa-" was all he managed to say before I pressed my lips to his. I pushed my tongue inside his mouth in a forceful manner, briefly brushing it against his own tongue before pulling away. It'd only been a brief kiss, but I'd managed to turn his cheeks a light shade of pink.

Anna: Maybe the ‘change’ that the linebreak indicated was actually Roxas changing from a uke to a seme.

Kiri: Every time we use one of those terms I get instantaneously transported back to 2009.

Chill: This fic’s from 2009. Well, 2008-2011 anyway.

Kiri: Writing a fic for three years? Wild.

Chill: Aren’t you writing a fic longer than War and Peace?

Kiri: What’s your point? I started work on it June 2017 and if work continues at its average pace so far I’ll be done by this time next year. This fic’s only 89k words - counting author’s notes - while FeetGround’s at about 267k as of the time of this publishing.

Anna: Uh huh. And LAL was posted in April 2014 and the Janaverse still isn’t completed.

Kiri: I...! That...!! That’s different!!

"Did I say no?" I asked, looking down at him. He shook his head no, obviously surprised by my assertiveness.

Chill: *as Axel* Hey, that’s not how things are supposed to go!

"Then why did you give up?" I asked, bending back down, allowing him to slide his hand to the back of my neck.

"The look on your face… I thought…" he said, gripping the back of my neck lightly, stopping when I smiled at him.

"I was shocked," I said in an attempt to explain. "That's the first time anybody's ever asked for my permission to kiss me." I waited until a look of understanding came across his face before continuing. "The answer's yes, by the way," I whispered, just above his lips.

Anna: No shit?

Chill: *as Roxas now* Sure, I kissed you, but I just decided that the answer was actually no, so the campus rape police’ll be along shortly.

"If you get scared," Axel said before doing anything, "call my name to remember it's me.

Kiri: Okay, I kinda like that.

Chill: Why am I not surprised?

Kiri: Shut up.

Anna: How’s he supposed to call his name if he’s got his tongue down his throat?

If that doesn't work, tell me to stop, okay?" he asked, probably not wanting to scare me or make me cry again. I nodded. As soon as I did, Axel immediately raised his head just enough to capture my lips. I trembled against him as he ran his fingers along my neck, patiently waiting for me to open my mouth.

Anna: Haha, what? You were being all dominant a second ago, why are you shivering like a terrified virgin bride on her wedding night now?

Kiri: The seme-uke switch was a fluke and therefore very temporary.

I relaxed my jaw, allowing his warm, wet tongue to slip past my lips and part my teeth. My eyes fluttered shut as he began to explore my mouth slowly, as if memorizing it. I started to kiss him back but ended up gasping into his mouth when he pulled me closer and rolled so that he was on top. Axel tilted his head slightly before delving deeper into my mouth, urging me to participate again, which I did. By the time he pulled away I was breathless.

Chill: Why do I get the feeling that when Axel and Roxas finally smash it won’t be described as... sensually... as this kiss?

Anna: They’re still kissing?

"Can I continue?" he asked giving my lips a quick peck. I stared up into his emeralds,

Chill: wondering how much they were worth,

uncertainly, wondering what else he wanted to do… how far he wanted to go… before nodding in consent. It's not like I still had my virginity, so I wasn't nervous about going all the way,

Kiri:

Anna and Chill:

no, but every time I'd been raped, going all the way hadn't been a pleasant experience. It'd hurt like hell because I fought it.

Kiri: No, fucking really?!

Chill: I can’t decide if I like the implication that being raped is comparable to getting rained out at the beach, or that it wouldn’t have necessarily been an unpleasant experience if he hadn’t fought it.

Anna: I would have thought that being raped (RECENTLY) would make you way more nervous about going all the way than being a virgin would, but what do I know?

It didn't take long for Axel to kiss me again, then work his way down to my neck. I shivered, grasping his shoulders when teeth grazed my neck but shook violently, when he bit my neck, immediately reminded of Vexen. I shakily called his name twice, trying to keep myself from panicking. It wasn't working very well. I was just about to call his name for the third time when he pulled away from my neck and kissed me on the lips again, instantly calming me.

Chill: Is this the part where we make fun of them for using a safeword during vanilla sex?

Kiri: That’s enough.

Anna: At least they are using a safeword. Though if either one of them had a single brain cell to share it might have occured to them to get a rough idea of what Roxas is comfortable with beforehand.

Kiri: ...isn’t Roxas underage?

Chill: Haha, yeah.

"I'm tired," Axel said, probably not wanting me to feel bad for getting scared when he pulled away. "Wanna go to sleep?" I looked up at him gratefully for being so understanding before nodding.

Axel moved off of me, going to turn off the light as I got under the covers. When he came back he got under the sheets as well. I didn't protest when his arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me closer to him until my back was pressed against his chest. He murmured something into my hair that I didn't quite catch. "What?" I whispered, turning my face toward his.

Anna: *as Axel* I said I was gonna collect that ass eventually and I meant it.

"Nothing," he whispered, just before a feather soft kiss brushed against my cheek. "Goodnight, Roxas," he whispered, settling his head against his pillow.

"Goodnight, Axel," I whispered back before doing the same.

--

I woke the next morning, opening my eyes wide when I felt arms wrapped around me loosely. I was just about to elbow whoever it was in the stomach to cause them pain

Kiri: As opposed to all the other reasons you might elbow someone in the stomach.

while I made for the door, 

Kiri: Oh.

Chill: Well now it just sounds like he’s simultaneously elbowing someone on the bed and getting out the door on the other side of the room.

Anna: That’s a loooong elbow.

but froze when I looked over my shoulder first and saw that it was Axel. Maybe tomorrow I should face him before falling asleep, I thought, glad that I'd looked first. I turned around in his loose grip, trying to be careful so I wouldn't wake him up. My movements, no matter how small, however, must've woken him anyway. His brilliant green eyes fluttered open almost immediately.

Anna: He’s a light sleeper, because if he wasn’t then it’d be too easy for his bitch to escape. :)

"Roxas," he said, tiredly, "good morning."

"Good morning," I said, smiling at him apologetically as he yawned. "Sorry for waking you."

Axel just shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he said, looking distracted when he fully woke up.

"Is there something on your mind?" I asked, immediately getting pulled closer.

Kiri: Cliché morning wood setup?

Chill: *as Axel* You have to take care of it. Blue balls hurt, you know.

"Roxas," he said, seriously and tense. He relaxed a little when I raised my hand and ran my thumb along his cheek, "I know that you probably won't like what I'm about to say," he said, refusing to meet the intense gaze I was giving him, "but I want you to quit the gang."

I stilled my hand.

"What?" I whispered in disbelief.

Anna: I’m going to assume he’s in disbelief because that’s probably the first time in this whole fic that someone’s said something that reasonable.

Kiri: Yeah. We’ve already gone over ad infinitum why a street gang is a totally inappropriate environment for someone of Roxas’ background.

Chill: Even besides that, he kinda just got kidnapped and raped and stuff because of gang business on his literal first outing for them, so like... what the hell was he expecting here? Obviously he’d get kicked over that, he’s a danger to himself. And others. Demyx got shot because of him, right?

Anna: Though if Axel didn’t try to kick him out and the entire incident just kinda passed without further comment... I don’t think we would’ve noticed...

Kiri: Well, it’s not like it’s really occured to anyone else all fic that Roxas shouldn’t be in a bloody street gang.

Anna: It’s just gonna get milked for drama anyway. Even if Roxas isn’t technically part of the gang anymore he’s still gonna be hanging out with them foreverrrrr.

Chill: Because staying with the SO you had at age sixteen for the rest of your life is a good idea, right?!

Kiri: Urk.

Anna: Anyway, tune in next time for... drama milking...!!

To be continued!

[ankyouweek]

Second Time Around

Time travel fic, 22k, character deaths. 1 - A Good Future

The future was supposed to be good, they said. No monsters, no dodgy science, no political scandals. 

Karma never expected the government to come clean with what had happened, but he had hoped they’d learn their god damn lesson and stop any weird shit they’d been doing behind the scenes. It wasn’t often that he was wrong, but when he was, it generally ended up badly for everyone.

They’d been promised a good life due to their hardships. Maybe the others hadn’t realised it, but they’d given more than just cash when Koro Sensei’s life had ended. Kayano probably didn’t notice, thinking the absence of the media prying into her life was down to good management. The thought probably hadn’t crossed anyone else’s mind. But Karma had wondered why they weren’t being hounded by the press when they were part of an international scandal, mere teens fighting a monster, when they were chased like prey when the scandal broke. 

He wouldn’t say anything, but he knew for a fact his record had been wiped clean of petty misdemeanours. His student file had been altered, saying he was a charming personality, an asset to all around him. It sounded like the smary bullshit that was on Asano’s profile. The difference between them was Asano twisted people so they saw him that way, despite being just as much of a demon as Karma was. Karma was insulted his character had been changed, but he did see the benefits in it.

Seeing those two changes had been enough. He wouldn’t mind betting that other occurrences in their lives had been planned, or helped along by the government. An unproportionate amount of them got scholarships, they all got their dream school or next in line, medical treatment had miraculously become available to those with sick family members under the guise of medicine trialling - the list went on. After all, there was no reason why 3-E couldn’t sue the government, all the world’s governments, for everything they’ve been through. Obviously it wouldn’t be easy, but a few sob stories would give them public appeal, and the redhead wouldn’t mind betting Asano Senior would like a bit of revenge for being forced to relinquish his school, his pride and joy.

Sure, they’d agreed to a verbal contract, though they’d been underage and therefore unable to give consent at the time. Who could possibly expect them to fully understand the consequences of their actions? Even adults wouldn’t have grasped every possibility that could have happened! Takaoka or Nidaime were unpredictables to say the least, and that’s without Yanagisawa and the many minor incidents that took place over the year.

After everything that had happened, Karma expected, at the very least believed they deserved a good life. A good future. 

Maybe it was just bad luck. Maybe it was fate, destiny.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

The government didn’t stop with experimentations, human or otherwise. He didn’t watch the tv anymore, or read newspapers. When he was a kid, guns blew people to bits and bombs exploded towns and cities into pieces. Now weapons were monsters, once human more than likely (he’ll never forget Nidaime’s monstrous shrieks) or animals at the very least. Someone’s pets? A loved one? A criminal on death row or someone on their death bed?

He didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. 

Poisons had been adapted to the new world, gas attacks becoming more frequent. Missiles were shot frequently, leaving families on coast lines fleeing or living in fear. Hospitals were at a breaking point, governments draining resources from everything and anything to follow their twisted goals and ideals. 

He honestly wasn’t sure what they were fighting over any more. Back in the day, they fought against terrorists and for oil and because nations had grudges from decades back and it was the principal of the thing. 

After Sensei had died, things were quiet. But one reporter got nosey, too curious for their own good, and straight up vanished. Another followed. People assumed they’d been checking out drug dealers or the headquarters of other criminals and got caught, leading to a snuffed out existence. Three more met the same fate before word could get out. 

Yanagisawa was out of the picture but his research wasn’t.

Karma was fine with the theoretical study of all of Yangisawa’s ideas. What did theories matter if they weren’t used? Shouldn’t people be expected to think outside the box? That’s what Sensei had always said anyway.

Maybe Sensei was wrong.

Because thinking was one thing, but results could only be gained by doing. So Yanagisawa’s ideas were revised, changed, and reimplemented. A new breed of monster emerged. They were written off as cyborgs, androids at first. 

“We’re helping humans with no hope.”

Of course, that generally meant criminals, psychopaths, sociopaths, with no care for others, using this as a way to extend their own lives, to commit more crimes without having to face punishment. The government could use them without worry - few would raise a fuss if it was criminals killing other criminals and criminals dying to save people. 

The other times it meant lying to someone on their last legs, saying they were joining a special trial for new medicine, that there was a chance of recovery if they let themselves be injected. Of course, the families were always told the medicine had an adverse reaction and their loved one had died. 

Japan was relatively safe, having been the creator of these monsters, the ones who had advanced the knowledge, the ones with the most experience of fighting them. And of course, 3-E had helped them out, detailing their experiences, what they had tried, what they hadn’t, what worked and what didn’t. Okajima and Terasaka, talkative and proud, took that the hardest. They thought they were helping out (hadn’t they all?) and spilled everything.

Karma had decided to ignore everything. He was a government worker and he was busy and he was tired. He only stopped one monster due to it being more human the beast, having an entire class behind him. He couldn’t save the world. He wasn’t that type of person.

Karasuma begged to differ.

Karasuma was looking worse for wear, exhausted, lanky in a sickly way. But he still worked every day, longer than harder than everyone else. Karma thought it was admirable.

Though it turned out Karasuma wasn’t working at all.

“You’re trying to tell me the government has a secret time travel device that they think works but nobody is sure because they’re too chicken to try it out?”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to try it out and somehow save the world like I’m some sort of superhero?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s insane.”

“The world is, yes.”

“You’re insane!”

“Possibly.”

Karma groaned. It was like talking to a robot! Karasuma was vague on the details. Apparently the machine was already being built before Karasuma joined, and was improved for years. The final step was Yanagisawa’s notes. Apparently the man had lost his mind and was a little deranged these days and would happily chat your ear off about his ideas (that was the official story, though Karma had heard about a supposed truth serum, and while that sounded like fantasy novel nonsense, so did giant yellow monsters and people with tentacles).

“And nobody has used this machine before now, why? Surely someone was stupid enough to get in it!”

“It’s been untested on humans. Tests on rats, pre-Yanagisawa’s notes… didn’t turn out too well.” Karma grimaced. “So history hasn’t been changed before.” A pause. “Or so we believe.”

He quietly added, “The last lot of rats didn’t die, however.”

Shaking his head, Karma really wanted this conversation to end. “You really aren’t doing a good job of convincing me, y’know? I know this world. My friends are here. It’s far from perfect, but it’s mine. You want me to risk my life going to the past, maybe encountering myself and what then?” He gave Karasuma no chance to answer. “Go through school again, and try and figure out the best way of righting the world even though we have no idea how?!”

He was straight out yelling at this point, and he was glad he was at home. Karasuma had refused to speak to him at work and he now knew why. At least he knew this place wasn’t bugged.

“What was the turning point for this hell? What am I supposed to change? Do I kill someone? Should Sensei live? What do you want me to do?”

Karasuma was silent.

“Do you know anything that would be useful?”

A short pause. Karasuma didn’t want to give things away but he needed to win Karma over. “We don’t know. We have ideas, theories. Obviously the catalyst was when he died. Or, more obviously, the fuss around killing him by the government. People got curious about the monster. Scientists had amazing new research material. Governments are unorthodox and corrupt.”

“So Sensei should live?”

Karasuma shrugged. “What then? Where does he go? The government wouldn’t just stop hunting him.”

“Then what?”

Karasuma finally met his eyes. “That’s up to you.”

Karma was furious. Much more calmly than he thought he was capable of, he went to the kitchen to find a drink. Something strong, honestly didn’t matter what as long as it was booze. This wasn’t something he wanted to think about now or ever.

Downing the bottle, he asked Karasuma another question. Or five. Counting was hard when you were pissed in both ways of the word.

“Why just one person? Can’t you send numerous people back in time? Will the machine hold more than one? Why not send one and another and another, a whole team, a qualified team, let them meet up with each other and go from there?”

He glared at the bottle, as though it was its fault for being empty. “Why me?”

Ignoring his other questions, Karasuma got straight to the point. “Because you’re strong. Physically and mentally. You can lead under pressure, can form plans quickly. You know when to give up and when to keep pushing, you know everyone’s skill sets better than they do themselves. You’re still in a position where you can do this without being too emotional. You’re our best hope.”

“And if I die on the way there?”

Karasuma looked away. “I personally think there’s a high chance of success, now that we’ve made improvements.”

“What if I go back and fail?”

“We’ve lost enough that the risk is worth it.”

“Won’t you lose your job?”

“We’ll stage something, make it look like you ran off or went on holiday or something. If you do things right, nobody will ever know this world was a reality. They’ll never know time was tampered with. They’ll never know the world they inhabit is a redesigned version.” The man shrugged, not having much to care about nowadays. “At least I’ll have my wife.”

Eventually, Karasuma left. Karma had argued semantics, ideals, concerns until it was three in the morning.

Neither of them slept that night.

—

Three weeks later and Okuda’s and Takabayashi’s broken bodies were removed from their lab on the outskirts of Tokyo. The lab had been bombed, materials and notes stolen. Nobody had laid a claim to the attacks, and there was no evidence to trace.

The funeral was simple, family and friends, the media watching like starving dogs from outside the temple. Karma was stony throughout the whole thing. He wasn’t one for tears and didn’t appreciate Okuda’s mother tugging on his sleeve, saying how much “Manami-chan talked about you” or watching Terasaka give his condolences to Takabayashi’s grief stricken father.

Before he snuck away, he found Karasuma.

“I’ll do it.” 

“You’ll go tonight.”

A nod and he left. He had a lot to do, after all.

[vileart]

Shit I'm in Love with Dramaturgy: Rachelle Elie @ Edfringe 2017

Bawdy Romp through Life, Love and Family with Cheeky Songs About Sex

Rachelle Elie can tell you more about love and relationships than Gwyneth Paltrow, Madonna and Katy Perry could ever do – and she’s laying it all on the line.

The Outstanding Canadian Comedy Award winner is bringing her critically acclaimed one-woman show Shit I’m in Love With You Again (SIILWYA) to the Edinburgh Fringe for the first time. Packed with witty observations, tales of embarrassment plus cheeky songs about sex it’s a joyfully bawdy romp through the ups and downs of her life that covers teenage lust, family, marriage, parenthood and therapy.

What was the inspiration for this performance?

For the last 15 years I have been creating and touring one-woman comedy character shows such as Joe: The Perfect Man and Big Girls Don’t Cry. After years of marital distress, my obstetrician/gynaecologist husband and I managed to rescue our love from the cliff’s edge, a recovery that inspired my own story. 

I realised I knew more about love and relationships than Gwyneth Paltrow, Madonna and Katy Perry could ever know. So six years ago I decided to strip away the characters, get on stage in stand up clubs and find my own voice, a decision that led to Shit I’m in Love With You Again. The show is my life, including my time spent in Kenya where my husband worked in a hospital and I taught art to HIV positive adults shunned by society. 

Medical politics forced my husband to resign his post just as I, after making sacrifices and overcoming doubts to accompany him, found my niche and was making a real difference to people’s lives. The rest is history – a history laid bare for all to see on stage. Shit I’m in love With You Again is my first autobiographical show and this is me laying it all on the line.    

Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas? 

I feel theatre is still one of the best ways to share ideas. What I love about theatre is it is an art form that requires an audience. As a performer I get immediate feedback about whether my idea is being understood and it affects my performance.  

With so much social media and texting, face-to-face communication is harder to get but theatre is an old fashioned art form that offers modern present day idea sharing and expression.  

How did you become interested in making performance?

From a very early age I would do silly characters to make my siblings laugh. My brother always pushed me to do the characters for others to make them laugh. We would be driving through Florida and he got me to walk up to strangers and do my characters. I got addicted to the laughs. 

Those were early performances. By being weird I realised I could affect a stranger’s day. I failed Grade 8 and at that time a guidance counsellor encouraged me to audition for a high school of the arts. I didn’t know it but I was an artist. I got into the art and dance program and thrived.  At 16 I was working as a professional model and at a Ralph Lauren show we were told to completely ignore the audience. 

This was impossible to me and that realisation led me to persuing a degree in acting at Bishop’s University. Making performance was something I gravitated towards but as I got older the type of performance I was meant to do became clearer. I went to theatre school to be a serious actress but my true calling has always been to be a clown and to do comedy.

Is there any particular approach to the making of the show?

Every show I have created has had a slightly different approach but most of the time it involves collaboration with clown experts. I have worked with Philippe Gaulier, Sue Morrison, Mike Kennard, James Keylon, Francine Cote, Adam Lazarus, David Shiner and others. T

hese people are masters of clown and physical comedy. When starting a new project I often get in a room with one of these people and start jamming. They help me get clearer with my ideas. I also get on stage as much as I can because the audience will immediately let me know if something is working. I am not a linear thinker so I often work with dramaturges or directors to shape the show. 

Once I feel I have at least an hour of strong material I will schedule previews so the show can further develop in front of an audience. I will video those previews and make major cuts at that point.  Friends and family feedback also influences my work. 

Does the show fit with your usual productions?

In the past my work has been theatre based and the shows have revolved around over the top characters. This show was developed in front of audiences in stand-up clubs, cabarets and bars. It became clear after hundreds of 5-30 min sets that a new show was in development but I was to be the central figure. 

Many comedians will say it takes years to really find your VOICE, after six years of consistent performances and feeling like my comedic voice was surfacing it became clear that I needed to create a new piece. I knew I wanted to perform it in theatres so I returned to my usual approach; to shows which involved several collaborators and mentors. 

What do you hope that the audience will experience?

More and more people need to laugh. As a comedian my favourite part of my work is doing just that and I believe this show provides some comic relief. I am also a trained clown. Clowns go too far, push boundaries and talk about things people are usually hesitant to discuss. 

I hope audiences jump on board with me when I go into the good the bad and the rauchy experiences of life. My specialty is “being too much” and “going too far” I hope audiences will enjoy my unique brand of comedy developed over the last twenty years that involves storytelling, stand up, clown, characters and acting.  

Near the end of the show, when we get more into the crisis of my relationship audiences get to see the worst of me. It is very intimate. I try to always come back to the light of it which is fun because things get crazy and then we laugh about how ugly things got. I had a friend who went through a nasty divorce and at the end of the show he was teary and said he wished he saw the show before they broke up. 

Another elderly overweight gentleman said he wished he had "fucked first" in his first marriage. Maybe it would of saved it! I tell the truth about love and relationships and the shows message is that even if a relationship appears to be shit it may be fixable. I hope audiences will laugh and when conflict part of the show comes up that people will relate to my struggle and to my universal message about love.

What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience?

A few years back I discovered Aristotle's “Fryetag's Pyramid". Exposition, Rising action, Climax, Falling action & Resolution. I am not by nature a linear thinker and this tried and true triangle for story development is a strategy that helped me shape my chaotic ideas. Also I perform as much as I can in front of a live audience so that I can ensure my writing and performance are consistently funny for all types of audiences. 

Lastly and most importantly as a performer doing what I have to do before a show, to be in the moment with the audience that is in front of me, is crucial to shaping an audiences experience. There is a magical place, a five star place, between an audience and a performer on stage and when I access that place the audience and I have the ultimate experience. I am getting better and better at stepping into that place and it is the part of theatre that is like skydiving: life and death.

The show was a sing and shout-along success across Canada. Mums empathise with the “Ring of Fire” scene where Elie discusses that unforgettable sensation during childbirth, just before the baby arrives. 

And we can all learn from the Fuck First ditty and its core message about going to bed together before, rather than after, a romantic restaurant curry. 

SIILWYA rips through every key moment from Elie’s fall out with Jesus and enthusiastic embrace of sexual freedom, to true love and a marriage that came within an inch of divorce.

Described by legendary French master clown Philippe Gaulier as “fucking funny”, Elie has won bucket loads of praise. Critics delight at the energy and charm with which she delivers this autobiographical tale. Elie’s comedy can switch in an instant from naivety to raunch and then into the pathos of the realisation that she “loves everything about her husband – even the things that she hates”.

Elie treats universal themes in unexpected ways. She says: “It’s all there from splitting up with Jesus to the need for patience, tolerance and blow jobs in saving your marriage. I know more about long-term relationships than Gwyneth Paltrow, Madonna and Katy Perry combined. I’ve been in the trenches of love for 20 years with my husband. We’re raising two boys together. I talk about the things most people are afraid to discuss.”

The songs are co-written with Luke Jackson, who provides live musical accompaniment.

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