#i think actually if i still had a job id be willing to blow this much money lmao bcos i dont really spend a lot

[lokh]

you look at ready made cosplays and think 'wow! thats expensive'. but i just spent 10 minutes thinking about the cost of just Part of making a cosplay and got dizzy

[the-other-art-blog]

Black Widow thoughts SPOILERS!!!

Before going into spoilers I just have to say I really liked this movie. There are few things that I’d change. But overall, the good compensated the bad. I am satisfied.

What i absolutely loved:

The opening scene was great! Just like I expected, it’s so like The Americans. If you haven’t watch that show, it’s just the best spy series ever. And this scene felt a lot like that.

The opening credits scene WOW, again so much like The Americans. It’s so moving I almost cry. I really loved it. It’s shocking. I’m going to be listening to that cover repeatedly for the next few days.

I loved Mason, I always love to meet the person who helps these characters get all the IDs and everything they need. I love their relationship. O-T couldn’t shut up about his ship, he so wants Mason and Natasha to be a couple. He could have a crush, but I’m not sure she reciprocates. But I love Yelena saying he’s sensitive. He’s a softy, bless him 🥰 I hope he makes cameos in other movies.

Natasha vs Yelena OMG That fight was so raw, I don’t think we’ve ever seen a fight like that before! I mean, I suppose Disney + shows have that kind of fights, but it’s great to see it in a movie and in this particular movie!!! Often you see really well-choreographed fight sequences, but you don’t feel the punches... but here... I mean these women really went for it. It hurt watching them.

Natasha calling Dreykov’s daughter “collateral damage” was great. When Loki mentioned her I imagined a young adult, but it was only a child! And Natasha was willing to sacrifice her! I think that was great for a Marvel movie cause there’s no way of justifying it. She was just a little girl!!! And it plays with the whole “girls are expendable” narrative.

The traces of Clint and Nat playing X and Os was hilarious. I need a Marvel one-shot about that. It would be amazing and I bet they would have deep conversations to kill time.

I loved Red Guardian, he’s so pathetic. He only cares about himself and his glorious days. Loved his tattoos, I saw Yelena and Nat’s name, and Melina + Lenin and Marx!

I also loved to see the 3 generations of widows.

Melina reminded me so much of Elizabeth from The Americans. Her saying that the mission went great cause they fooled everyone... she was so indoctrinated.

YELENA BELOVA... everything.

She has 3 running gags: the vest, the cool way to die, and the pose!

“Why the aggression?” in deep Russian accent. lol

I liked the way they addressed the hysterectomy. The way Alexei makes this sexist comment about her period and Yelena takes this to talk about it and how graphic she was!

Ok but Yelena blowing up a tower and causing an avalanche!

The dinner table scene!

Can everybody please stop hurting Yelena! First Alexei talks about their family as a dreadful thing, then Melina talking proudly about “unlocking free will” and Natasha saying that the family was fake! 🥺

Natasha was only indoctrinated and it’s because of her that Dreykov decided to control them fully. That’s why Yelena’s story is more heartbreaking + she’s the baby of the family and she got it worse! And each and every one of them had part of responsibility in her suffering. Nat never looked back, like at least she should have made follow up to the status of the widows.

Is Yelena truly Russian? What if she was taken from somewhere else?!

Good job Natasha appealing to Dreykov’s fragile masculinity!

Taskmaster was great. I loved the twist that it was Drekov’s daughter.

THAT POST CREDIT SCENE left me speechless. I couldn’t breathe! Why would Val tell Yelena that Clint was responsible?! I’m assuming they told everyone about Natasha’s sacrifice and that’s why her grave have so much flowers. So, what’s Val’s plan?

I love every time they curse in Russian

The not so nicely done:

Why do they keep calling her “Romanoff”? I would expect that the Russian characters would call her “Romanova”

Also, if they were posing as an American family, why were her names still Russian. We don’t see them interacting with anyone, but Melina says “Yelena”. It’s not even that hard to do it. Call Natasha --> Nataly and Yelena --> Elena (that’s actually the name but the pronunciation changes it).

I wish they would have brought back Julie Deeply as the leader of the Red Room. 

There’s no way, none, Natasha and Yelena would have survived that crash. I mean, the car exploded, rolled, and then both are still fit to run!

Couldn’t Renner made a brief flashback scene? I appreciated how much he was mentioned, but I would have loved seeing him. I’m not even sure that’s his voice in the flashback.

Ok, but why was the guy at the gas station so chill? 😂 They were talking about being killers and I find a bit mean that he didn’t recognize Natasha. They literally said she was an Avenger. Maybe because they were talking in English. 

Some of the science makes absolutely no sense. There’s no way of “serving the nerve” like that. The pheromones either.

The floating base doesn’t make sense either.

[dahniwitchoflight]

Homesquared Chapter 14 part b

Alright time for more reactions to Homesqaured- oh jeezus

the last one of these I did was from october last year, hoo boy alright brain time to get back on the time train things are happening fast

we last left off with me thinking they just fucking hilled Harry but I remembered the wrong house so Harrys fine, John not so much

Yeah, John sad but ooh Karkat shows up!

They seem to have a mutual conversation about lost youth and stuff, really makes these characters feel oold

“JOHN: jeez, i'm sorry karkat.

JOHN: i had no idea how much time had passed.

JOHN: i must have gotten a bit distracted by my house being blown up.“

Oh man, John thats a whole ass MOOD

lol at sburb allocated blow job

yeah Karkats right tho, John does kind of need a kick in the pants to see how he might have been useful here, but Johns still stuck in this rut of not seeing anything around him as Real real, so hes blind to all of the consequences of inaction

John its called derealization and depersonalization, you can get help for that yknow

But I mean, cant really blame him, hes being smothered by the fires of Doom all around him

Its interesting to see that Karkat, a Blood player, is more comfortable navigating through things that constrain them and tie them down, since constraint is something Blood and Doom have in common, Chains and Barriers and Laws and etc

Whereas John the Breath player, just gets bogged down, hes totally out of his element

so it ends up being like John: “Id like to cling to some funny moments of my youth pls and try to lighten the situation up a bit because I cant do anything when so heavy”

versus Karkat being like: “BUCKLE UP FUCK TITS THIS SHIT IS YOUR LIFE NOW GETS USED TO WADING KNEE DEEP IN THE SHIT LIKE THE REST OF US GROWN ASS ADULTS”

John: ):

Hmm, both Vriskas have been captured, but Annie basically rescued herself, knowing Vriska Prime she probably has a plan or an idea about that, see well see how that goes

“KARKAT: JANE'S PLAN FOR THIS CONFLICT HAS THUS FAR CONSISTED ALMOST ENTIRELY OF KIDNAPPING VARIOUS HIGH PROFILE CHILDREN.

KARKAT: IT'S BIZARRE.

KARKAT: AS THOUGH WE ARE FIGHTING A WAR OF ATTRITION, WHERE THE MAIN RESOURCE BEING UTILIZED IS THE OFFSPRING OF THE MOST POWERFUL PEOPLE ON THE PLANET.KARKAT: IF IT WASN'T ONE OF THE CORE TENETS OF HER FASCISTIC PHILOSOPHY, I'D BE TEMPTED TO SAY THAT CURBING REPRODUCTION MIGHT HAVE BEEN A GOOD IDEA, IF ONLY TO PREVENT THIS KIND OF FUCKSHIT NONSENSE FROM HAPPENING.

Oh. Well I guess that was Dirk’s “plans” for Jane all along. Obviously he was using Jane as a vehicle to gather “players” for his eventually next session, interesting

But who has Jane kidnapped in total thus far?

Does Tavros count? he was certainly trapped with her for some amount of his life, but I dont know if that counts as a kidnapping, John certainly tried to kidnap HIM though from the epilogues

Annie certainly counts as being kidnapped

Vrissy has JUST been captured so that counts, and Harry so far is still fine

Which bodes so well for Harry’s future Im sure

Yeah, Vriska should have been able to not outwit any capture attempts, but my guess is either Vrissy got capture and Vriska dove in, OR, Vriska’s doing an inside job so to speak and got caught on purpose, dragging Vrissy along as well

I guess we’ll see when we see their “prison”

Anyway John, don’t get so down on yourself, you’re just ignorant to everythiong around you! thats why nothing makes sense and you can’t connect to anything, easy fix! Just try to learn more and care more about stuff lol

Man does this feel like a strong metaphor between people who are into/care about politics and people who feel like they can’t get into it though

Crossing that hurdle from one side to the other is rough

“KARKAT: BUT NOTICING THE PROBLEM AND MAKING MEANINGFUL PROGRESS TOWARDS SOLVING IT ARE TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS.”

yup

man, this is all feeling startlingly relevant to the current times, I should have read this sooner

“ KARKAT: PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME YOU JUST HAD ANOTHER EMOTION THAT WE NEED TO DROP EVERYTHING IN ORDER TO DISSECT. “

hah, oh wow, Karkat when you phrase it like that, it’s almost as if you’ve become self aware of your tendencies to Moirail people out of their problems

Not really that out of character for a Blood player to end up being the Therapy Friend though lol

Just don’t burn yourself out on that though

JOHN: karkat, we still haven't spoken about *you*!

KARKAT: ABOUT ME?

JOHN: yes.

KARKAT: ABOUT *ME*?

JOHN: about you.

KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK ABOUT ME.

JOHN: well...

JOHN: you know, how you feel!

KARKAT: HOW I FEEL.

I know Karkat has probably matured past misunderstandings like this now given he’s really come into a great understanding of his Blood aspect, but by golly do I wish Karkat would misunderstand this as John’s attempts to be Moirail-reciprocal sdkjfhwlijebr

What a perfect way to continue their relationship, on top of more misconstrued romance quadrants XD

Spades is old Hat, Diamonds are in now babey

Oh

this started out funny, but Karkat’s emotional rant just ended up being depressing not funny ):

I have to say though, it is REALLY interesting to see John’s depression manifesting in a very breathy sort of way

Karkat in these panels was more closer together, connected, but as John gets more and more depressed over the course of Karkat’s rant when he realizes Karkat doesn’t know dave died, the panels get seperated by lines of blue, and slowly drift off away from John and from eachother

but thats basically been hows its been manifesting all along

the more John feels Disconnected and Seperate from the reality he finds himself in, the more he finds his will untethered, the more depressed and unable to act he gets

and right now its so much so that even a fuller fledged Blood player is having trouble grounding him back down

I don’t know, I always viewed the depression metaphor as a dark watery void to sink into and feels heavy and encapsulating (but probably thats just my Light-y interpretation of it)

so its interesting to see the depression metaphor as this floating disconnection instead, so much that it leans towards derelaization/depersonalistion/dissociation as well

I wonder if John will start dealing with bouts of actual full blown dissociation as this gets worse?

I mean, Breath aspect has given the literal ability to ghost around wherever he pleases in all other ways, why not literally and physcologically as well?

So John seems to be fully overembracing his aspect here, to a very unhealthy degree here, which I see you asking “aha Dahni, but hes doesn’t have overblown self esteem here, quite the opposite, is this not an inverted state instead? or something else because hes acting like hes inverting to Breath?”

and I say not so! reader, for overembracing is the idea that through your aspect, your will is overwriting the wills of others, and in someone like Vriska, this manifests in a very selfish and over self esteemed way

but is not John’s will overwriting Karkat’s here? Through Breath? And isnt John also being a little selfish here? Considering how he feels about things, more important than how anyone else feels? How Karkat feels?

John is too dissociated to understand that this reality is Real and has Consequences he needs to care about, and Karkat is trying to fight against that, trying to instill his belief that no, this shit is real and it Matters Why Don’t You Care, trying to ground him, trying to give him that dose of Blood he needs

but John’s overembracing Breath is just, blowing that all away, its becoming too strong

Roxy in the epilogues dealt with this as well, when John was really in the shits with it and started to believe Roxy’s whole personality was somehow fake and his own construction, because he convinced himself Roxy would never choose to do the things she did, but Roxy was able to snap him out of it and make him understand and respect it was her own choices that led down his path, not the idea that John’s choices are somehow overriding everyones

But man, John sure is riding that Breath train way too hard, and he keeps snapping back into it as well

Further and Further

[snowdice]

Rats, Pizza, and Supply Closets (Part of the Cuffed Universe Series)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Remus/Virgil (a bit more Logan/Remus focus)

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Remus

Summary: Logan is very surprised by the fact that Remus did not come to this pizzeria with the goal to capture him, and now that they’re both here, it turns out their objectives align far more than expected.

AKA: The First Truce

This is a Cuffed Universe fic.

Previous fics in this series:

Tea, Cookies, and Handcuffs

Matboards and Subway Sandwiches

Espionage and Iced Coffee

Popcorn and Podcasts

Extras:

Moving Day

Notes: Non-consensual drug use mentioned, morally grey Logan, cop Remus, being restrained, one theoretical mention of eye injuries, human trafficking mentioned

Look at the boys! They’re getting along! Well.... Remus and Logan are getting along.

One would think, that is, one would think if one had even a single iota of sense in one’s monkey brain, that it would be difficult for a new hire to so quickly gain access to the location that one’s underground drug dealing operation ran out of. Particularly, one would think one would be cautious after having recently refused to pay for services from a cybercriminal.

Luckily for Logan, it seemed Haynes had a few disconnected synapses in his brain, and all it had taken was a fake ID and some forged paperwork to get hired on as a handyman for the business he used for money laundering. In addition to his work dolling out controlled substances, Haynes also owned a local rip off of a Chuck E Cheese called Cheeezeee the Cheese Rat. It was a dirty establishment with questionable food offerings and even more questionable decor.

Many times this week, Logan had found himself distracted by the large mural of a rat made out of cheese who was holding a smaller hunk of cheese as though he planned to eat it. Logan couldn’t help but stare at the image in horror, his mind desperately searching for some meaning in the piece. Was it meant to be a visual representation of pantheism wherein all things no matter the way humanity views them are ultimately the same and are god? That god is the creator, consumer, and consumed and god is reality itself. Was is a commentary on thoughtless, damaging consumption whereupon in one’s hunger and lust one eventually consumes themselves thereby destroying the vessel which one seeks to feed? Was the commissioner just deranged?

“Dude, for the 50th time, it is just a mural of a dumb character for kids,” the woman standing at the counter in the middle of the kitchen said as she sprinkled what could maybe pass for cheese on slabs of glorified cardboard the establishment called pizza crust. “I don’t know what to tell you. Just stop thinking about it and fix the sink.”

Logan tore his eyes away from the monstrosity he’d been staring at through the kitchen food window for the past minute and turned his attention back to the tool kit he’d been provided. He selected the correct tool and climbed back under the sink. He listened to the sounds of the woman continuing to make the “pizza.” Honestly, even if Logan did not know they were selling drugs out of the back, he still may have reported them to the authorities based solely on their food handling practices. In fact, perhaps the food was a worse offence considering that those buying their drugs knew they were purchasing and consuming harmful substances.

The underside of the sink he was under was disgusting, but the work wasn’t difficult. He’d learned enough about being generally handy from his father when he was young, and he had brushed up on those skills in the first apartment he’d shared with Virgil as that landlord did not care enough to fix things in a timely manner.

He still had his head under the sink when he heard footsteps enter the kitchen. He recognized Haynes’ voice as soon as the man spoke. He was explaining a few things about how his operation ran to whoever else was there. He used vague terms, but it was still a rather risky move with Logan and the “chef” in the same room, though it was quite possible she was in on the drug selling as well.

Logan finished fixing the sink without paying the conversation much mind; he already knew why he was here, and it was not to glean information. Logan intended to swipe what the man owed him as well as a steep amount of interest for his trouble. Then, he planned to send all of the information he had acquired about the business to the local law enforcement and let them deal with the rest.

He slid out from under the sink and glanced up. Immediately, he met the eyes of one of the room’s occupants and froze. He and Officer Remus Royal stared at each other for a few long moments before Remus tore his gaze away and looked back at Haynes. Logan breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t stupid enough to attempt to confront Logan in front of the drug dealer. That would have very likely ended badly for them both.

No longer being directly watched, though he imagined Remus was still tracking his movement from the corner of his eyes, Logan cleaned up his tools slowly and stood. His next task was to change a few lightbulbs behind the stage of the animatronic show, and while things had inevitably just changed, he still planned to at least keep up appearances until he could come up with an escape plan. He left the kitchen and moved towards the supply closet. He stored the toolbox there and his hand hovered over one of the screwdrivers for a moment, but he ultimately decided to leave it be. Remus was an inconvenience, but he couldn’t see himself stabbing the man through the eye socket with a screwdriver. He turned to the box of lightbulbs, wondering if he should take them with him or just completely throw out any pretenses of still intending to complete his handyman duties. That decision was made for him when the closet door suddenly opened.

Logan tensed for a fight, mind analyzing the situation. He didn’t have the element of surprise and Remus was bigger, but it was a smaller space that was more familiar to Logan. For most opponents, he’d want to try to angle them away from anything that could prove a fatal or extremely harmful improvised weapon, but in all the times Remus and he had fought in the past, the man always gentled his touch before it could do any true harm and never applied excessive force. Logan had found himself extending the same courtesy. So, in this case, the strategy would be to try to push him towards more deadly weapons which he would be unwilling to utilize. Of course, Remus still had the advantage as he was nearer to the door and Logan was more pinned into the back of the closet, but there was also a light switch right next to Logan and if he could turn it off…

“What are you doing here?” Remus asked the second the door closed behind him.

Logan hesitated. “You seem surprised. Are you not tracking me?”

His body language seemed to communicate that he didn’t intend to jump at Logan in the immediate future, but Logan still eyed him suspiciously. “Believe it or not,” Remus said. “I do have other jobs to do besides chasing you. I honestly did not expect to find you fixing a sink in a crappy pizzeria.”

“You’re truly not here for me?”

“You sound hurt,” Remus teased. “Apologies, I thought you knew this was an open relationship. I see other criminals all the time. Don’t you see other cops?”

“You’re the only one who’s ever been able to even partially keep up with me.”

“Well, I’ve been told I have quite the stamina,” he said, eyes sparkling.

Logan shifted slightly to the side but stilled again when Remus’s eyes immediately tracked the movement. “Stamina doesn’t provide much advantage when stuck in a closet with your opponent,” Logan said idly.

“Oh, I’d beg to differ,” he said lowly.

“So why are you here?” he asked instead of engaging.

“I’m undercover to help bring down Haynes,” Remus said. “He’s into some even skeevier stuff than his rat-infested restaurant”

“I’m aware,” Logan said. “I was actually planning to send an anonymous tip to local law enforcement when I was finished here, though it seems that will be unnecessary now.”

“You were?” Remus asked. “Why?”

“He owes me money, and besides that, he’s an asshole.”

“Asshole might be an understatement for a human trafficker.”

“A what?” Logan asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you know?” he asked, and suddenly the rat themed restaurant for kids took on an even more dark nauseating tone.

“I wouldn’t have done any work for him at all if I’d had even an inkling that he partook in that business as well,” Logan spat. “I’m taking him down even harder now.”

There was a moment of silence where Remus considered him, eyes unreadable and head slightly tilted. “So, we’re both here for the same reason,” he said.

“I guess we are.”

“Huh.”

“If you attempted to arrest me, it would blow your cover,” Logan pointed out and tilted his head, “and it would make my objective more difficult as well. Considering the severity of his crimes, would you be willing to make a temporary alliance just to make sure Haynes gets what he deserves?”

“Are you going to drug me at the end of it?” Remus asked.

“We’ll institute a 20-minute grace period after we’re finished. You don’t attempt to arrest me, and I don’t attempt to incapacitate you after we complete our objective.”

Remus took a moment to think through the offer, and then shoved his hands in his pocket. “Deal.”

“Very well,” Logan said. “So…”

The closet door was opened suddenly by a figure in one of the restaurant’s uniforms. “Wha-?” he started, but Remus reacted quickly, grabbing the person and slamming his hand over his mouth. Logan leaned forward and shut the door once Remus has wrestled him inside.

“Virgil?” Logan asked.

“Oh! Hey Virge,” Remus said in surprise. “You’re working at a pizzeria now?” Virgil tried to respond, but whatever he said was muffled by Remus’s hand. “Oh, right,” Remus said. “I’m going to uncover your mouth, but you have to promise not to scream.”

Virgil nodded vehemently.

“Wait,” Logan said, his eyes narrowed on Virgil. “He’s lying. He’s going to scream.”

Virgil shook his head in denial.

“I know you Virgil,” Logan said. “I can tell when you’re lying.” There was always a crinkle between his eyes because he overcorrected on trying to look earnest.

Virgil made a muffled whining sound in the back of his throat.

“Look,” Remus sighed. “I’ll take my hand off your mouth. Don’t scream, and we’ll talk it out, okay Virgil?”

Virgil nodded again, crinkle still prevalent between his eyes, and Logan pressed his lips together to watch.

Remus slowly removed his hand from Virgil’s mouth. There was a short moment of silence. Then… “AAAAmphpmphmpmphpm.” Logan slapped his own hand over the man’s mouth when he started to yell.

“I told you he was going to scream,” Logan commented idly.

“Mphfmkr,” was the angry reply as he tried to fight against Remus’s hold.

Remus sighed. “I was trying to be nice to you, Virge. Now we have to gag you.”

Virgil’s struggling increased, but Remus was easily able to hold him. Logan and Remus awkwardly managed to exchange their hands, so Logan was able to turn around and search the shelves for something to gag him with.

“Here,” Logan said. “This rope is still packaged so it should be clean.”

Virgil whined it protest.

“Well it’s that or duct tape, Virgil and I don’t relish in the pain that would doubtlessly result from the process of removing it.”

“Fmf. Ff.”

It was a struggle to get the rope between his teeth, but they managed it after a bit of wrestling. “Can I borrow your handcuffs?” Logan asked Remus.

“This time he asks,” Remus snarked, but handed them over.

Virgil made muffled irate noises behind the rope as he was cuffed to the metal shelving unit; Logan imagined whatever the man was trying to say was quite inspired.

“Sorry Virge,” Remus said, patting him on the head. “See you later.”

They shut the closet door behind them, and Logan locked the door with the keys he’d been provided. He handed the keys to Remus. “You’ll let him out after?” he asked.

“Of course,” Remus said. “I’ve got the emo.”

Logan nodded and turned from the closet. “Let’s go get a rat,” he said darkly.

Want to read more? The next installment is:

Kisses and Thai Noodle Leftovers

[star-anise]

Hey! I recently discovered and devoured the Wild Magic series at my local library, and the romance that developed at the end of the series was actually very upsetting to me. Not only was the age gap huge, the power dynamic was one of a student and her mentor, which felt v wrong to me. I read these at a much older then intended age, and I’m curious to get the perspective on this of someone who read them at the “right” age. Was this gross at 10? How do you feel upon reflection?

When I was 10, I thought it was FABULOUS MAGICAL ID CANDY and would have been upset if the series ended any other way. 

Now that I’m older? I still understand why the relationship works for these people in this culture, but the age gap is genuinely bad optics and teaches kids some bad lessons, like, “It’s definitely great for teenagers to date people twice their ages!”. 

But at the same time, if you gave me the series to rewrite (for example, if anyone wanted to hire me to help create a TV adaptation!), I wouldn’t take Daine and Numair’s romance out, personally; I’d change it to make it more appropriate, both altering their respective ages, giving Daine more development and maturity, than I think you could get away with in 1990s YA, and giving them some time without the student/teacher roles before the romance happens.

Part of why teenagers in our culture are so vulnerable is that there’s an extreme dichotomy between “you are a NAIVE AND INNOCENT CHILDLING you do NOT get to make your own choices” where kids can go right up to 18 having never made any important choices for themselves–not their hobbies, not their studies, not their forms of relaxation, not their friends. They’ve never had a haircut their parents disapproved of, and suddenly they’re shipped off to university with total autonomy. Or, before 18, most kids in most places do not have the right to learn anything more about sex than their parents want them taught; if their parents refuse permission to sex ed in school, they might not know anything about sex. And then they turn 18 and they lose most of the legal protections keeping them safe from predators and it’s open season.

That’s a really bad disconnect. It takes a lot of practice to learn things like “disagreeing with people without completely losing your shit” or “telling someone you love who wants something from you that you don’t want to give it to them” or “telling people vulnerable things about yourself and having that respected”. Those are the fundamental building blocks that make relationships safe, that let you add more reactive chemicals like romance and sex without it all blowing up.

Tortall is in its way this dream of an adolescence where you get to start doing meaningful work right away. In other series, Kel and Alanna chose to pursue knighthood at ten years old, and Neal is like this ~super late entry~ at 14. Pages leave “school” and become squires doing fieldwork at 14, usually. Meanwhile, I knew what I wanted to do when I was 12, and I spent the next twelve years jumping through academic hoops that only vaguely related to that before I could even get close to the kind of work that I wanted to do (and am now doing). I feel like there’s got to be some reasonable middle ground between “Let’s send 14-year-olds into battle!” and “You may begin acting like an adult at age 25″.

A big part of the difference between Daine and actual teenagers is that she’s been functionally treated by everyone in the cast as… if not an adult, then a fully autonomous adolescent who answers for herself. She gets to make all the important decisions about where she lives and what work she does. She’s had authority over fully grown adults since she was like… 13? 14? And all the other adults have completely backed her up in that. The adults around her know she’s young and learning and a little unsteady on her feet, so they provide her education and emotional support and financial resources and social support.

Of course, as a 10 year old, I then thought it totally reasonable that *I* should be able to function as a mini-adult, and that… is not actually realistic, both because I hadn’t had nearly the same enculturation that would prepare me to make those decisions, and everyone else in our society is not really equipped to handle Adolescents With Jobs. 

I’ve held back from writing my dissertation on How I Would Change The Immortals (for example, if someone wanted me to adapt it for TV…) right now, because I have some thoughts on what a more accurate and healthy portrayal of teenage development should be.

Because while kids in our world do need protection as they mature, that maturation cannot just be this purity culture “YOU CAN HAVE SEXUAL THOUGHTS ONLY ABOUT SOMEONE WITHIN TWELVE MONTHS OF YOUR OWN AGE” bullshit. Some of the purity police literally say that acknowledging that teens have sexual thoughts is “sexualizing minors”, as if human sexuality literally only springs into being when kids have passed some magical age.

The truth is the absolute opposite: Kids need safe ways of exploring themselves and their sexuality. A complete absence of things like dating people within a few years of themselves or reading a wide variety of stories about relationships, both good and bad, doesn’t generally protect them; it atrophies their ability to make critical judgments and decisions. Kids need to be encouraged to experiment in whatever way is comfortable for them, and then ask themselves questions like, “How does this make me feel? Do I like this? What don’t I like about it? What would I change if I could? Do I want to do more of this, or stop? What else would I rather do instead?”

This could be anything from an aroace teenager reading books about romance and going, “Yeah, that does not at all sound appealing to me” to a teenager having a crush on their teacher and learning how to handle those emotions in a way that makes it easier for them to have a crush on someone who’s actually a dating possibility, to teenagers actually–gasp!–deciding that a certain kind of sex (including a certain emotional connection and physical aspect) sounds really cool and they’d really like to try it if they can find a safe and willing partner. They might even learn about how to do that safely and find someone willing and appropriate and try it out! And that’s a process that should be supported by not having to lie to adults about what they’re doing, and by proper sex education, birth control, and medical care.

And then when you’re an adult, when you have actual mastery and ability to decide between several different viable life paths… you actually can re-negotiate a few relationships. Relationships can go from adult-child to adult-adult. You’re not nearly as vulnerable. And in that place, there are a lot more possibilities open.

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: The Star-Spangled Man (1x02)

Oh boy. Things are getting juicy.

Cons:

Can we be done with the joke of "wow, I'm surprised this incredibly strong fighter is a woman"? Like, at first it didn't bother me that Bucky thought the woman was a hostage, but then it turns out she's the head of the Flag-Smashers. That could be a commentary on Bucky's outdated way of thinking. But then later, during the fight, Sam says "that girl beat you up!" like a fun banter joke, and I'm just... sick of it. Sam, aren't you an Avenger? I know there's a dearth of ladies over there, but you've met Wanda, right? And Natasha? They were part of your little family unit along with Steve, weren't they? Jeez. You know there's no reason why a woman can't be a dangerous criminal just as much as a man. #feminism. (But in all seriousness, that was a disappointing joke.)

I will repeat my concerns from the first episode, about how we're positioning our good guys and our bad guys. See, the bad guys don't want to let the same people have the power, the way it all was before the snap (or the "blip", as I guess it's known). They want to redistribute power, to break down these harmful systems. And then you've got Sam, getting denied at the bank, being harassed by the cops, showing that he too is victimized in this current system. So... is the ultimate solution really supposed to be Sam-as-Captain-America, taking on the mantle of a system that has rejected and hurt him and other people like him, for as long as (and long before) there even was an America? I want them to take this to a different place, an unexpected one, but I'm nervous about the optics.

Pros:

God, let's talk about Bucky and Sam, though.

So, first of all, and I want to state this super clearly: Bucky does not have any right to tell Sam what he was supposed to do with the shield. His behavior was entitled. It was also coming from a place of deep trauma and grief. The only thing you need to see to prove this, is the look on Bucky's face when he's watching John Walker being interviewed on Good Morning America. He's hearing this man who didn't even know Steve, calling him a brother. And he runs to Sam. Sam describes how he also felt "heartbroken" seeing this stranger being called Captain America. They are so united in their grief, and so surprisingly willing to talk about it, to let it into the air between them... but at the same time, there are resentments that run deep, and they can't quite bridge that gap.

Sam is right, and also Bucky is not entirely wrong. It's done beautifully, and reminds me a bit of why I liked Captain America: Civil War so much, because even though I had complicated thoughts about who was behaving poorly and who was in the right, I completely understood everyone's motivations. Why they were defending what they were defending, what they were fighting to preserve and protect.

Because I think, honestly, there's a very visceral part of both Sam and Bucky that wants to be partners, wants to be united and fight side by side. There's a hole in their hearts, and it's not just Steve, it's all the people they've lost over the many battles they've fought. There's an affinity between them, and you can see these glorious moments where they banter and joke and actually enjoy each other's company. And these moments of unity, like when they look at each other, silently agreeing to accept Walker's ride, or when they're united in turning away from him and saying they'll work alone, thanks.

That therapy scene was excellent, the way they slip into needling each other like brothers, to trying, at least for the sake of saying they tried, to do things sincerely... and then they hit a wall. I loved Sam saying "thanks for making it weird" to the therapist, because... yeah. Clearly they're not in a place to connect, to be in the same place emotionally, but they do have a job to do, and so they'll put the rest aside, like soldiers. (Side note, I appreciated the lack of a no homo joke when the therapist said they should use some couples' therapy techniques.)

The Isaiah scene, and then the scene with the cops stacked right up on top of it... man, that was brutal. I know it's Marvel, I know it's Disney, and far be it from me to pat them on the shoulder for delving into this subject matter, but I am glad it's being treated seriously. There's a real subtlety to the ways in which Bucky is a good guy, but he can't quite understand it, right? Like, during the scene with the cops, Bucky wants Sam to just hand over his ID so there won't be a fuss. He then says "don't you know who this guy is?" basically counting on Sam's fame and hero status to get them out of a spot of trouble. Bucky's instincts are to help, but it reveals his lack of understanding. Same with Isaiah. Was Bucky right to never tell anyone, not even Steve, about the way the super serum was being used? Well, we could debate about that. But his instinct to protect a man who had already been through so much... it's a compassionate instinct, if nothing else.

Let's talk about John Walker. I don't have a lot of respect for the armed forces, truth be told, but I want to be clear that individual people who operate within a system I despise, can still believe they're doing it for good reasons. I like that they didn't make Walker an obviously slimy villain. We see his high school, we see his friends, we see how nervous he is, and I believe that he has good intentions, by and large. And at the same time, every time he says "Bucky" like he fucking knows him, like he has any right to address him with familiarity? Or when he says he wants Sam to be his "wingman"? Man, I want to punch the guy right in his chiseled jaw. I'm ready to hate him entirely if he makes the wrong move, and I'm also prepared to cut him some slack as a more sympathetic character, depending on which way the wind blows.

In a strange way, I think the final moment of the episode, when Bucky has his idea to go talk to Zemo, was my favorite. He has this plan, to go talk to a man who literally knows the code words for his brainwashing with Hydra. He talks about going to him for information, and Sam just says... "so, the plan is for you to sit across the table in a room from that guy?" Bucky hesitates, then says "...yes". And Sam just says "okay." To me it speaks so much of their shared history, shared trauma, and that under the bedrock of all the issues they have between them, there's definite trust. I can't wait to see how that all plays out.

I'm already sad this is only going to be six episodes... do you think I should hold out hope for a season two?

8.5/10

[succygirl]

Hi! Could you share a little about your studies/what you plan to do when your done? Or if you aren’t sure (which is totally valid!) maybe just a little about your classmates future career paths?

I’m trying to figure out what I want to do career-wise so any thoughts you have would be amazing!

Yeaah, I’m totally not sure honestly! I’d love to actually work in a nursery (but honestly that requires no Hort knowledge at all to start, you can pick it up as you go) but with how my physical health is going I’d be better off staying on a computer or at least not having a 9-to-5 kind of job (I’m literally unable to make it through the day without needing to rest for several hours). I also can’t do any work that requires looking down at all, my neck is in enough pain just from day-to-day ‘I have to look down at papers/eating/writing’ that I can’t do it.

And unfortunately I’m not too close with any of my classmates now. A lot of them are older folks who already had careers and are getting into gardening and such either to take better care of their own yards, or just to have something fun to do on the side. Some have made their own business of fine gardening/maintenance on people’s yards of course, but they’re working for themselves and it’s a very small operation of just them or maybe a friend from class if they need help with something. One of my teachers was also a student in my program herself and was hired by one of the other teacher’s after she graduated and became head of his company’s maintenance department eventually. Of course she then started teaching when she got older. There’s a fair number of guys who were/are in the program specifically for landscape construction but wanted to learn about other things surrounding Hort. We also had people who were there as part of their job, to learn a few more things on company/city time, as they worked for the city’s parks or landscape departments (I don’t remember what specifically they were part of but they were in several construction and irrigation classes all in their work uniforms).

Irrigation was actually very interesting to me, the troubleshooting of systems more than the creating/planning and building of those systems. As long as you’re willing to work odd hours and be ready whenever time someone has an emergency (the pipes/something always goes wrong at like 3 in the morning for irrigation of course) you can make some fair money diagnosing and fixing irrigation problems. My teachers for the irrigation classes were always saying how they didn’t have enough people who could figure out and fix problems on irrigation systems, the figuring out part being the most needed). You do have to go through some troubleshooting steps logically so if you’re not the type that can deduce problems based on data/information then it might not be the best thing for you (Clue is like my favorite fucking board game even though there are definitely people better at it than i am, i still enjoy trying to solve a mystery like that. Same with figuring out IT problems). There’s some very light electrical knowledge needed when irrigation control boxes are involved, and lots of problems happen at a valve box or a control box, but again, as long as you’ve got a logical/mechanical mind it’s pretty easy.

I also very much enjoyed pruning, it can be rather meditative while you’re looking at a tree and thinking about how it will grow depending on where you cut it and how best to cut it to look and grow it’s best. Just have to be careful with going too far and knowing when to stop cutting! Taking just a class or two in pruning can really propel your knowledge very quickly and from there it’s just getting more experience actually cutting trees and learning how they respond to what you’re doing to them. You’d also want to take a few plant ID classes so you’re familiar with what you’re pruning as different plants need to be pruned in different seasons and will respond differently. Or at the very least know how to ID a plant you’re unfamiliar with so you can pull out a plant ID key and figure it out, this would require knowing a bit of plant lingo/anatomy. SO many people need things pruned and lots of people don’t know that certain trees look better when pruned certain ways. Around my area we have lots of Japanese maples which require a different technique to make them look GOOD/architectural/a show piece rather then just a tree. People also have a lot of unskilled gardeners that only know how to “prune” trees into a lollypop shape, these are usually known as “mow and blow” gardeners (at least in my area?). So having a gardener that knows how to prune a tree? That’s some value (tho those clients who are used to mow and blow prices will probably fight you if you have a higher price but just.... don’t work for those kinds of people honestly. Quality work means it’s more expensive and that’s just how it is).

I’ve also taken pruning classes for roses specifically as there was a rose garden in the park closest to me (before i moved) that needed volunteers for pruning and maintaining it so the park gave free classes for pruning on the assumption you’d be coming in to prune their roses, you got a nifty apron you had to wear so they knew you weren’t just some rando cutting their roses.

Something I can’t do any longer but I also liked doing was drawing landscape plans. I didn’t care so much for designing them but the drawing of them was very meditative for me, focusing on what I’m drawing and how to get the shapes and lines i wanted. But it also involved a bit of math to scale things down to make them fit on the paper size you’re working with. It’s not necessary to know how to draw well but it certainly helps. There are also programs for producing those same landscape drawings on the computer and/or in 3D even. Which is becoming more and more mainstream though there are lots of landscape designers/architects who like drawing it out by hand and will probably pass it off to someone else to get it all into a computer for other people to work with. Many of my classmates were also working on becoming landscape designers or where already providing clients with designs but they didn’t do any of the actually installing themselves. But there were some who were doing small designs and installing them for people (like just doing one flower bed so it wasn’t a huge job but they still had to pick plants and design with colors and water needs in mind).

Almost had a job at a small company that did plant arrangements in pots and such at homes where they’d refresh and maintain those arrangements or change them depending on what the client wanted (ones that lived outside mainly and it was larger estates with multiple potted arrangements decorating their spaces/entryways). Like if they wanted a Christmas themed one for a party or certain colors we’d go out and change them a number of times a year, maintain them, and hook up a drip irrigation system just for those pots. But that fell through when the law around independent contractors changed here in California and would have forced me to be an Employee that needed to have insurance and such payed by the company instead; with the company being so small the owner couldn’t afford that (it was like the owner and her husband and they kept plants and materials at their house in their garage/driveway. They used independent contractors only when they needed to go to the houses to change arrangements on a quarterly schedule).

Hopefully that gave you some things to think about!! If you have any more specific questions fell free to ask them :)

[nelllraiser]

BM and TJ: A Light Snack | Frank & Nell

TIMING: present. LOCATION: soul on the rocks. PARTIES: @frankmulloy and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: frank gets more than he bargained for on his shift in the form of a bar fight that nell may or may not have started. he doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Soul on the Rocks wasn’t Nell’s usual haunt when it came to getting a drink. It had something of a reputation for housing seedy guys who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. Not to mention Creepy-Joe who just stood in the corner as if it was his job. But the often questionable nature of its patrons also made it a decent place to pick up a few supernatural bounties from time to time, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that she was up to her ears in hospital bills that needed paying. So Soul on the Rocks would have to do. Regrettably, it didn’t seem that a new job was in the cards for her tonight, and it couldn’t have been all of fifteen minutes before some guy had already managed to piss her off with comments that weren’t welcome even after she threatened to break his fingers. Sure— she technically threw the first punch, decking him clean across the face before he could realize what was happening, but as far as she was concerned he’d been asking for it. It only took a quick breath for the other bar-goers to smell a fight brewing, and quite a few of them readily joined in, always eager to get the blood pumping. Soon enough there was a notable mass of writhing and punching humans, with Nell at the center of it trying to get a hit in wherever she could manage it. “It’s not my fault you’re an ugly bastard!” she yelled blindly at the latest person to try and kick her.

What godly force did Frank manage to piss off in his past life that every shift he’s on at the piss pot bar somehow ended up with somebody getting their teeth kicked in? Somehow, in the end, it was usually always Frank. Pheromones, he found were only of any use when the want to fuck is greater than the will to fight, Frank’s--what word did the shrink say to use? Not curse...ahh yes-- ability only served to fuel the former. Which was probably for the best. With great effort, Frank put away the glass he had been cleaning, and threw the towel over his shoulder--not unlike a willing fighting entering a ring. Only thing was, Frank wasn’t a willing fighter. He just wanted to do his job, get paid and go home. Frank wanted lots of things, like not wanting a stray elbow to ram into his side from an over-zealous spectator. “Move,” came after he had already physically moved that, and several other bodies from his way. An easy task when you towered over a lot of them. Frank had to move a lot of people in his job, it was probably one of the reasons why he was hired. At the centre of the commotion, he grabbed the closest body to him, taking care that it was skin on clothes and not the alternative. He pulled one back and pushed at the other, creating a separation that (hopefully) reason could exist in. That was Frank, he was reason. “Alright people, you wanna beat each other’s face in, you do it outside. Not in here. Let’s all be adults about this, no one needs to be kicked out.” Fuck, he was fucking tired.

Nell was in the zone, kicking and punching and dipping like she was back in the supernatural fighting Ring she’d been a part of no more than a few months ago. Before… helping to blow it up, of course. Ever so slowly, the crowd was seeming to thin, and she could hear a booming voice ring out over it, though the words were hard to actually make sense of. All of the sudden, a large, blond shadow moved over her, and it seemed that another had entered the fray. He was huge, but that didn’t stop her from sending him a challenging glare, a frown etched onto her lips as the adrenaline continued to pump through her veins, her heart thumping in unison with the simple manta of ‘fight’ that was running through her mind. She still couldn’t quite figure out what he was saying over the din of the scuffle, but decided it didn’t matter. If he wanted a fight, he could definitely have one. “Fuck off!” she yelled without thinking, and as his arm came close, she reflexively reached out to bite, like an angry puppy that was working off of instinct. Perhaps if she’d taken a single second longer to look at the man she would have recognized him as one of the bartenders, but thinking before action had never been her strong suit in situations like this.

Frank has been kicked, punched, headbutted, slashed, and in every other manner in which is violent. He’s yet to have been bitten however. His first thought shouldn’t have been (but it was) oh...this is different. His second thought was, “what the fuck?!” As he grabbed the girl by the scruff of her shirt and pried her teeth off his arm, a wet dotted half moon embedded into the skin as a reminder of his misjudgement. This proved to be another momentary relapse of attention that resulted in a fist across his jaw from her opposer. One that carried enough force behind it to jerk his head to one side. Now, Frank seldom got angry, and he wasn’t angry now, honestly! What he was, was loud, and stern, and the two were often mistaken for one another owed to his size. This was probably another reason why he was hired. “That’s enough.” One hand still firmly holding the scruff of the little she-wolf-- wisely keeping her at a distance where no teeth could attach itself onto any unsuspecting limbs-- the other grabbed the collar of her opposition’s shirt, as he hauled them both toward the door. With more force than he had intended, Frank shoved idiot number two out the door, watching with some small sympathy as he stumbled toward the curb and then onto his face. His jaw reminded him that he need not waste anyway. Now, to idiot number one. “You,” he said, “now I’m gonna let you go, but I swear to god if I so much as see a single tooth…” Gingerly, he does.

When she felt the hand tug her by the collar, some cursed cross between a snarl and a growl found itself rising from Nell, and she instantly started squirming, trying to get a hit on anything she could touch while trying to move enough that he would be forced to drop her. “Let go of me!” she yelled insistently as a warning to a man who was well over a foot taller than her, apparently uncaring of any possible consequences, and still not quite having the clarity in the haze of the fight to realize that this man worked here. She could feel her magic kicking in and pooling in her gut, asking for direction as fight soundly squashed flight into a pulp, running away having never been an option. Unleashing any magic probably wouldn’t be wise at the moment, though— and she tamped the rising feeling down as she was finally released, still refusing to stay still the entire time to the door and even for a moment after the man’s hand had left her collar. “Who the hell do you think-” Nell had been in the middle of asking who exactly this man thought he was, but she finally got a good enough look at him to recognize him as one of the people that had been on the other side of the bar, slinging out drinks. “Oh…” she said rather ungracefully as realization dawned on her. He’d been trying to break up the fight, hadn’t he? “He started it!” she insisted with a wild point towards the man that had just been tossed to the curb. In another moment her arms crossed over her chest, and the rampant aggressive nature that had been on display before ever so slowly began to chip away. Oh shit. She’d bit him, hadn’t she? And not in the way most men liked. “If you see a single tooth you’ll what?” It was less of a genuine challenge and more of a beginning of trying to salvage things.

That was a good point. What was he going to do? The answer was one he knew immediately and so did pride, and it halted the reply on his tongue. Nothing, Frank wasn’t going to do anything. What were the alternatives? Throw her to the curb? Swing a wild fist at her face? Anger had lost its hold on the girl and he could slowly see reason and comprehension formulating behind her eyes as she was no longer blinded by its red lens. Any suggestion of further violence would be ill advised, and while Frank wasn’t the smartest guy around, he wasn’t stupid. In any case, Frank never had much of an appetite for violence. He was always the type more ready to take the punch than to cash it out. Kindness, he thought, was a more valuable currency, although it wasn’t as if he readily gave those out either. “I’m going to call you a cab and send you home.” Somehow that sounded more menacing in his head. He was already pulling out his phone and punching in a series of numbers. One of them was getting a cab, and it was up to her whether she’d be joining the sorry idiot that was slowly picking himself up from the side of the curb. “Sit down, and shut up.” His previous display of bravery significantly injured, he sat down without a word. Good. Frank put his phone to his ear, the other hand absently nursing the bite mark on his forearm. “And by the way, ‘he started it’? What are you, seven? Actually...did anyone ask for your ID— hello? Hi, yeah, I need a cab at Soul...yeah, Soul for the Rocks...For one,” he turned and gave her a pointed look, “or maybe two, we’ll see when you get here.”

Nell’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his claim of calling a cab was revealed, as if she were scrutinizing it for any possible bluffs. But she didn’t have a chance to comment on it before his phone was already out, and apparently he hadn’t been joking about getting at least one cab. As the other man in question plopped down, Nell didn’t let up in glaring daggers at him, finding that entertaining enough to preoccupy her for the moment being. Her middle finger was itching to come up and flip off the douchebag, but she kept her arms firmly folded where they’d settled, trying her best not to be threatened with a cab once more. But she didn’t care much for the bartender’s phone call as he jibed at her. “I’m not seven! It’s true! He’s the one who was being a dick!” It probably didn’t help that her foot stomped instantly against the ground with the words, not unlike someone who was throwing a tantrum. “My ID?” The exasperation and indignance that entered her voice was akin to what it might have been if someone asked if she liked mimes. The most horrible of offenses. “I’m twenty-three! And it’s for one!” she insisted without hesitation, standing on tiptoe to try and get as close to the phone the giant man was holding to tell the cab driver that she’d be going nowhere in a taxi. Then she addressed the man grasping the cell phone directly. “Besides- I have my bike here!” Her thumb jabbed towards the spot where she’d parked her motorcycle. “And I didn’t even really drink.” She’d been looking for work, so getting drunk wouldn’t have been smart.

She actually stomped her foot. “Yeah, now I’m convinced.” Frank was tall, she was not, but keeping her away from his phone proved to be an uphill battle as she tried to speak into the receiver, threatening the space that he had carefully crafted between them, with each new attempt. He spared a fleeting glance in the general direction of her thumb, hoping to appease any further attempts. “Alright, alright, will you please just-- hello?...yeah, yes, I’m still here...excellent...thank you. I’ll be waiting outside. Thank you.” Now that that was out of the way. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you incapable of exercising some form of restraint? Oh and if someone is being a dick, you call security to kick them out, not start a brawl in the middle of a crowded bar.” Or bite people when they’re trying to help you! The latter never made it past pride’s careful guard, though the thought was betrayed in the form of his hand returning to nurse the tender spot. The cab pulled up not much sooner, and to keep himself from saying or doing anything else that might betray his thoughts, he turned his back to the woman and proceeded to stuff idiot number one into the back of the cab. Producing a handful of notes from his own back pocket, he deposited them into the driver’s window. “Just him. Make sure he gets into his front door please, thanks.” There was a pause as the driver muttered something through the window, Frank turned his head back to where the woman was standing. He seemed to have to think about his reply, but at last decided, “no, just this one. Thanks man.”

Nell’s frown only deepened as Frank’s sarcasm pervaded the air, her hands quickly going back into a stubborn cross over her middle. “I’m just saying,” she grumbled, not actually entirely finishing the thought aloud. This time she waited not quite patiently, but in a manner that was much more subdued than before as he finished up his call. Unfortunately, her offense was quick to return as soon as he started asking questions again. “What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you ask what’s wrong with him?” Her open palm jerked roughly towards the man still sitting desolate on the curb. “Why am I the one being yelled at for restraint when he’s the one who doesn’t keep his hands to himself! He could learn some restraint!” Her features quickly returned to something akin of an angry pout before she continued on, raising her nose stuffily into the air. “Security looked...busy.” It was a bald-faced lie. She hadn’t even bothered to look at security. Nell watched as his hand found the place she’d bitten him, and again her exterior lost a few of its prickles. “Did I...bite you hard or-?” An inkling of an apology was creeping through her voice. After all, even if the guy in front of her was making her bristle, he probably didn’t deserve to be bitten in a fight. “Is it bleeding?” she asked, trying to get a closer look. As the taxi pulled away without her in it, Nell scowled after it— as if she could burn a hole through the seat where the man she’d been fighting was sitting. “So you work here.” It wasn’t so much a question, and she wasn’t sure where she was going with it, but it was something to say that was neutral rather than combative.

“I’m not yelling at you!” Frank was in fact yelling at her. He realised this too and softened his tone to one more closely related to a sort of...diplomatic reprimand. “I’m not yelling at you, I’m just saying, there are better alternatives to fixing a problem than by punching it. And that was a test by the way. You failed. The security; that’s me. I wasn’t that busy.” At her remark, Frank’s eyes fell on his forearm, as if noticing the degree of injury for the first time. The dark spots of blood rising to colour in the indents left by the set of teeth; just sitting beneath the surface of the skin as no puncture was actually made, but still carrying with it the threat of spilling over if there was. A bigger ring surrounded the mark, red and angry, but would surely yellow and then disappear over time. Probably by tomorrow morning at the latest. Now that he was taking the time to examine his injury, he had almost forgotten that he was punched, and now that the adrenaline was no longer needed, the pain in his jaw made itself known. Frank pulled down the sleeve of his jacket. Stepping back before she could step forward. “No, it’s not. Don’t worry about it.” The change in her demeanour was welcomed progress, although this wasn’t saying a great deal considering how ready she was to, quite literally, rip into him before. “Well, I’m not here for the friendly crowd.” There was a pause as a sort of peace had settled between them, and Frank was not oblivious to how fragile it was and was even more careful not to break it. “Look, are you okay?” 

Nell was all too ready with a rebuttal to his claims of not yelling, but before she could get it out he rectified that particular situation, and she bit her words off before they could manage to surface. “I don’t know- punching always seems to work pretty well for me. And I tried to tell him to fuck off. He didn’t seem interested in doing that.” There was a flicker of humor to her voice this time, her temper once again fading into something less volatile for a moment. “Okay, well that’s not fair. You can’t give me a test without telling me. What kind of teacher are you, anyway? But you’re security?” she asked curiously, looking him over and ignoring the fact that she’d been caught in a lie. Again the disapproving curve of her mouth only dipped deeper as he tugged down his jacket. “If it’s not bleeding, then let me see,” she said— her tone firm once again, but filled with less hostility and more determination. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him stepping away. Maybe he just liked personal space? Or maybe he was worried she’d bite him again if he said something to anger her which was...fair enough. “Are you saying I’m not friendly?” she continued along the vein of a truce they’d managed to find, her fickleness in her emotions knowing no end. Confusion was quick to grip her as she blinked at his question, her knee-jerk answer of, “What?” probably too much of a give away as to how unexpected his query had been. “I mean- I’m fine,” she tentatively replied, not particularly used to people she’d bitten asking how she was doing. If any new bruises did arise from the scuffle tonight, she’d be hard-pressed to identify them with the steady collection of purple and yellow spots she generally sported from her line of work. “What about you? You’re not dying or something, are you?”

Alas, what more could Frank say to that? It wasn’t as if Soul was known to attract the upstanding citizen type. For most of its patrons, their problems could not be solved any other way so they found comfort instead at the bottom of a shot glass or a beer bottle, or a well placed fist on an unsuspecting face (and then there’s Joe, but he’s another species entirely). All Frank could really do was make sure nobody kills each other in the process; and fights never last too long when Frank’s on shift, which means he must be doing something right. “Well I’m not a teacher, I’m the deterrent.”  Frank kept his arm firmly by his side, one foot behind him in a strategic shift of weight should she prove to be as persistent as he suspected. It looked bad, yes, but that was now, and there was nothing more awkward than having someone witness an ugly injury, and the next day to find no trace of the previous night’s violence. He’d rather avoid that conversation if he could help it. “I’m saying you need to exercise restraint, and take people at their word when they say they’re fine and drop it.” However, a great deal could be said of one’s character, and their history, when their first response to ‘are you okay?’ was ‘what?’, and her reaction was not lost on him. But for the sake of keeping peace, and with no visible injury to invoke any immediate concern, he did not press. “Trust me, as long as my head stays on my shoulder, I don’t die easy.” He thought that he said it with enough casual grace to warrant no great suspicion. “I’ve worked here long enough to say with some confidence that tonight was not the worst night I’ve had. Come on Bitey McFierce, if you promise not to punch anyone else tonight I’ll pour you a beer.”

“Well if you’re not a teacher, then why are you giving tests?” Nell quipped back in the same moment the man had finished his sentence. It seemed she was still making the shift from aggressor to casual nuisance. Again, she took him in all at once, giving him a look over before saying to the tree of a man, “I bet I could take you.” It was still meant to have a home in that in between place they’d seemed to have found themselves, testing the waters of how far she could take her teasing. But then she was giving him a hearty eyeroll as he continued to preach the virtues of restraint. As for whether or not she’d drop the subject of a potential injury— she carefully mulled the thought over, deciding just how far she wanted to push. She was pretty sure she hadn’t tasted blood, and if he wanted to be some macho man and pretend he was fine when he wasn’t...it wouldn’t be her funeral. On the other hand, pure stubbornness was egging her on. “You’re bossy.” Was all she settled on after chewing the inside of her cheek. “But I should warn you I have rabies.” That was transmitted by biting, wasn’t it? She wasn’t entirely sure. But what a strange way to phrase that he didn’t go down easy. As long as his head was on his shoulders? Maybe she just wasn’t familiar with the saying, but it also made her think of how the undead were rather indestructible unless they lost their noggins. His casual delivery of the words were enough to make her brush past it, though. “Bitey McFierce?” she echoed with a cross between a scoff and an amused snort. “That’s the best you can do? I don’t know why I expected better of you, but I did....Turkey Jerky.” It was the first thing that had come to mind when she thought of things that might be hard to chew. “No promises,” she answered without thought, both being raised in White Crest and her general everyday experiences with fae nearly replying for her. Still- it was light enough to come across as still being her impish self, and Nell had intended it as such a thing. “And my name is Nell.” This didn’t seem like a moment to explain that it was short for Penelope. “Maybe you can come up with something half decent with that.”

It takes everything in Frank to bite back a retort. It would only serve to prolong this nonsense back and forth that she’s somehow trapped them in, and perhaps that was exactly what she wanted. If you can’t him, annoy them to surrender, which is why he was determined to give her precisely the opposite. “I am sure that you can,” he said, and the words, oddly, did not hold even a shadow of sarcasm. Of course, beating someone was easy when they weren’t willing to fight back, although a gut instinct told him that she was the type to enjoy a challenge or not at all. Or maybe she just enjoyed winning, who knows? He’s been wrong about people before. Although it seemed he was at least correct in her persistence, the woman would not shut up. “I am.” And he was. “Consider me warned.” He said, bearing the brunt of her nuisance with infinite patience. Although a weathered wall was not without its cracks, and the occasional jibe could, and did, muscle its way through every now and then, usually when he least expected it. “Turkey Jerky?” What the fuck did that mean? He can’t imagine a single characteristic about him, or his behaviour that might even resemble a jerky. Was he a jerk? He thought himself perfectly restrained, all things considered, her on the other hand... “Right. That’s reassuring.” Frank scratched his arm. His words were accompanied by a wary look and delivered with no great confidence. At least when he returned to his usual spot behind the bar, he knew who to keep an eye on. Nell, that can’t be a real name. A nickname, he decided. Yet deep in the pit of his stomach he felt an itch: what was her real name? This wasn’t Frank. The impulse was biological, totemic, ancient, and it made him uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck. “Frank. And I’ll let you know as soon as you come up with something that makes more sense than turkey jerky.” 

[marshmallowprotection]

Well, hey, if youre willing to write for it im delighted to request it! If you dont already have an idea in mind, how about snapshots of each rfa member with the rfas unofficially/officially adopted child? Or what each would do if they needed to pick them up from school cause they got sick? I kind of love this whole idea so ive already thought up way too many ways to use it haha, but id be happy with literally anything related to the rfa communally raising a kid

I've written some little blurbs for you, nothing long but something just enough to get a taste of what it might be like. I couldn't decide on a specific kid to use so I'm just going to swap between a boy and a girl for whichever it feels right for. 

Yoosung 

"Sungie, do you always get to see so many animals?" 

"Mmm. Yeah, it's part of my studies. If I wanna be a great Vet someday, I have to learn about all kinds of animals and meet them." 

"Really cool! I wouldn't mind if I got to hang out with puppies all day." 

"Well… It's not always like that." 

"Oh, right, there must be kitties and bunnies too!" 

They always chatted like this. 

Yoosung spent the time that he did have free with everybody's favorite son. He was often one of the least busy members of the group but only during the afternoons while the others were working. They would waste a lot of time playing games that he enjoyed or LOLOL, which Yoosung liked. 

They got along really well. Yoosung had taken to him like a big brother, and while he wasn't entirely sure if he was doing it right, he enjoyed the time they spent together. 

He wasn't ever really that close with his big sister, so to have a little buddy to hang out with like this was so different!  

He wasn't the youngest person now, so a lot of the words directed towards him were now thrown to the wayside. It made him feel like he was pretty mature! 

That wasn't always the case, though. 

Video games were an easy way for them to interact and because of that he got a little too invested in them. Of course, just because he was older didn't mean that he always won those games. 

The kid took it ten times more seriously than he ever did and he had to actually try to win what they were on. He never really had that issue before without having many people to play against. But, it was like Seven had been tutoring him on how to destroy others. 

Today was no different. 

"I WIN!" he shrieked as he jumped off of the couch and thrust his hands in the air as Yoosung hung his head in defeat. 

"Looks like you win again," he laughed, though still a little embarrassed. 

Zen

She was a star, a bright shining star. 

All she wanted to do was be the one who made all the sad stuff go away, far, far away from here! It was a dream of hers to be as cool as her family was, and she thought the best way to do that would be to practice for the next party! 

She got the idea from Jaehee, cause she always said that Zen could shine so brightly that it made her feel better. 

So, who else to ask for tips then Zen? 

So, she put on her little show as best as she could for him. 

"You're doing great, keep it up out there, princess!" Zen cheered her on as she spun around in circles and circles on end, pretending to perform for the little crowd of plush toys and Zen.

He clapped as she finished up her little routine a few minutes later, with her arms stretched out wide and little chest heaving from all the little motions. 

Her eyes twinkle with such joy. It was a blessing to see her look so happy and all she ever wanted to hear was that she was getting better at this. 

She puffs out her cheeks when he doesn't say much more, "D'ya like it, Zenny? I can't show everybody else less you think s'good!" 

This little girl was an absolute darling to everybody that she came into contact with and it was no surprise given her parent, who had been the kindest soul ever to walk the face of the planet. She never caused any trouble and all she wanted to do was have a little fun every now and again. 

Zen wasn't all that great with kids, at least, he never felt like he was. He didn't exactly do a perfect job all the time, but he did try his best when he could. 

She had insisted that he sit down and watch her perform this time around. She wanted to show that she could be as dazzling as Zen was, and he would stand to agree that this little girl had a future in talent if she wanted to pursue it. 

Even if she was a little bit pitchy with her own rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. 

Zen let out a little laugh. He pressed his hand against the top of her head and ruffled her hair. "It was very good. You'll blow everybody away at the next party for sure, okay? I need to watch out. You're going to give me a run for my money." 

Jaehee

The little boy clutched at his locks, clearly frustrated with the paper of homework in front of himself. It just wasn't making any sense to him and he really wanted to just give up and quit it. 

He had been trying so hard to do it all on his own so nobody would get worried.  

That hadn't worked because Jaehee caught him looking so dejected in the corner of the café. 

There was no hiding anything from that woman. She just knew when something was wrong and wouldn't let the subject go when she started talking. 

She always got onto him. It wasn't rude or mean though! 

She was just looking out for him, he knew. It didn't change the fact it was a little embarrassing. 

Jaehee looked over his notes and instead of scolding him for the bad marks, she merely hummed and nodded her head. She pointed out some of the troubling areas for him and tapped the spots. 

"So you see, you'll need to do this first before you start doing this part of the question. You're getting ahead of yourself when you're working on these types of problems." 

He stared at the paper for a moment with pursed lips, "...Oh. I guess I didn't think about that." 

"Why don't we try some together and see where it's confusing, okay?" Jaehee smiled. 

He may have felt unsure of himself but he knew that he could trust her judgment at times like this. 

Jumin 

"You look lovely today… I see you and Elizabeth the 3rd are wearing matching bows." 

"Oh, you noticed? I tied them all by myself too!" 

"Did you? That's very crafty of you to do so, princess. Elizabeth seems positively pleasant about it. Why, may I ask, did you do it?" 

"Oh! Elizabeth and I are having a tea party today. We can't have one without looking cute n' stuff. You think my Mommy would like these?" 

"She would. That's her favorite color."

Jumin had never been sure how to act around children. He had never really been a normal child himself, and by the time he figured it out, he was already well grown into an adult. Now, he was really learning how to interact with children. 

This little girl had stolen not only his heart but the hearts of everybody she came into contact with over the past few months.

She was bubbly and sweet, never out of line, she had a penchant for cute toys and little accessories, and she liked to make her own things and play pretend. 

Most importantly, she was the only person in this world who could get CEO Jumin Han to sit in a small chair and pretend to drink tea. 

That's what he was doing right now. 

Elizabeth the 3rd was sitting on her own chair as the girl pretended to pour out some tea into her cup with a smile, "You want some more, Elizabeth? Really? Okay, more tea for the lady!"

Once she set it down she glanced over at Jumin with a big grin, "I'm glad you like it too, I tried really hard. I made some for everybody to wear! I made you a purple one!"

And if anybody thought he wouldn't wear a bow in his hair for this kid, they were wrong. 

Seven

“I did it! I think I put it together, it works, it really works!“

She always looked at the world with stars in her eyes. 

Every new experience was something great to watch happen and it didn’t matter what it was that she was doing or trying out. She always smiled and laughed. It was a great sound, and it had been such a long time since Seven had even heard anything like that. 

This little girl was equal parts smart and sweet. 

If Seven handed her something to work on, she would devour it and figure out what was wrong or what needed to be fixed within a couple of minutes. Seven let her tinker with some of his old robots. Granted, he didn’t give her anything really complex, but still, she learned fast. 

It didn’t always work out, but she never lost her big grin. 

He beamed. “Oh? So you did!  That’s impressive. Good job! Meowy 2.0 here is looking much more lively, huh?” 

She gripped onto the little bot and nodded her head. “Mhm! I wasn’t sure if I was gonna be able to figure it out, but thanks to your help, I got it.”

He couldn’t have been more proud. 

Seven didn’t know what it was like to have many older people in your life care for you like this in a way that was more domestic and typical. He never thought that he would ever have to chance to be around kids like this, but it was something that he always wanted to do. 

She had stolen his heart, though. He would do anything for the kid. 

“That’s right,” Seven nodded. ”You don’t have to do everything alone to figure stuff out. It’s actually better to ask for help when you don’t know what to do next time.” 

She was quiet for a moment and grinned. “...Yeah, about that. I was wondering, how hard would it be to add a flamethrower?” 

Nobody tell the others about that though. 

V

"Does it matter if I make my sky a different color then blue? Why does it always have to be blue? Is it wrong to do something like that? Can it only be blue…? I don't understand." 

"Well, the sky isn't just blue, you know. It can be almost any color you want it to be, it's your drawing to paint so it's your choice what it looks like. Why do you ask?" 

He hung his head, not wanting to look V in the eyes. "... Some kids told me I was stupid and wrong. I guess... I’m just not as good as you thought I was."

V frowned. He got to the boy’s level and pressed his hands against his shoulders, "Hey… that's not true at all. I love your sky, that's why we put it up on the fridge." 

He had really low self-esteem. It wasn’t something that was always remedied by the fact that he had a support system behind him. For some children, it was hard to connect with others in some capacity. 

This boy was always radiant and smiling when he was with the RFA. But, when he was alone or by himself, there were those times when the unease shined through. It wasn’t for a lack of love. Those feelings could affect anyone no matter their life or background. 

V hated to see that. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, quietly. “I would understand if you didn’t.” 

Because he was special, not only to him and the rest of the RFA but to himself as well.

“I’m sure. I would never lie to you. Now, let’s see what we can do about this problem of yours at school, okay?” 

Saeran 

Saeran was always wary of children. 

He always thought of his parents and how badly they had screwed him over as a kid, and his first fear was that he was going to do something as bad as what they did to him to somebody else. That was the last thing that he wanted to do to anyone. 

It wasn’t easy for him to build a bond with MC’s little girl, but he did try every now and again. For some reason, the girl really liked him and stuck to him like glue at every chance that she got. It was kind of hilarious to see somebody so bright and cheery reaching out for somebody as dark looking like him. 

There were times when she would talk somebody’s ear off, but she would never do that to anyone apart from the people in the RFA. She was often quite shy and anxious. With Saeran, though... she was quiet and didn’t often press him for talk and chats. 

She seemed to understand that he really wasn’t much of a guy for chatting, and they both could just hang out without worrying about anything. Today was a little different though. 

He had walked in the room that she was sitting in, and noticed that she was crying. His body stiffened, and he felt rather uncomfortable. He knew that he could have directed somebody else to the situation but at the same time, he didn’t think he could make himself do that. 

He had been in that position too many times as a kid and nobody was there for him. Against the dread in his gut, he sat down next to her and didn’t say anything at first. She was clearly looking over at him. 

“S-Saeran?” 

“...Mmm.” 

“I wasn’t... cryin’... just got dust in my eyes.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want too,” he said, quietly. “I just figured you would feel better if you had some company.“

“...Thank you.” 

[blazerina]

Do No Harm (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Ethan and Allie decided to call it quits but they’re both having trouble processing the events of the past month and what their relationship really meant to them both.

Author’s Note: An angsty piece that I’m really proud of. They’re both a mess and I LOVE IT! Thanks for reading. Please like and reblog! xoxo

Word Count: 2788

--

It had been a month already. One whole month since Dr. Ramsey had been reinstated at Edenbrook. One month since they decided.  One month since hurt feelings and raised voices echoed inside her head every day.  

She would never forget the mental image of Ethan aggressively pounding his fist against the granite bar in the kitchen, and calling out her name, after she lost her temper and slammed a glass into the sink.  

Now that he was back at the hospital, it didn’t make sense for them to continue their relationship.  They both agreed it was the best choice.  They knew the night they spent together would result in this episode one way or another. There was no other conclusion. This was the result of their impulsive actions. Two emotional, intelligent, driven people who would only get in the way of one another if they tried to make it work.

When Ethan tore off his hospital ID and handed it to Harper Emery, announcing to the world that he was done, she never imagined that one day she would be on the receiving end of those words.

“I’m done.”

The days and weeks since “the decision” had passed quickly but also slowly. Allie’s head was foggy. Her brain felt stiff. She had been moving through quicksand for days on end and it felt as though this was becoming her new normal.

She was numb from head to toe. She had successfully shut people out; something she did best in trying times.  No one knew. It was a secret only shared between her and Ethan.  She was proud of that. Even though she was skilled at fooling those around her that she was okay, inside she was crumbling. She desperately wanted to ask him for forgiveness; to explain to him that she didn’t mean anything she said that night.  

Allie winced as she remembered telling him that he was right, he was indeed a failure because he wasn’t even willing to try being in a real relationship. She called him a coward; reminding him he was too scared to admit he had feelings and emotions like a regular human. His pride kept him from realizing that he was fallible just like everyone else. And that was something he loathed and denied – he would never be just like everyone else.  

Tonight, she knew she’d end up walking in the rain. She finished a hellishly long shift and wanted a drink. Well, more than just one if she was honest. She was desperate for the burn of alcohol down her throat and in her belly. She didn’t necessarily want to forget, but she wanted to feel good. She wanted to remember what it was like to not care about anything; even if the buzz only lasted a few hours and she felt sick the next morning. It would be worth it.

Allie exited the hospital through the ER and gave a curt wave to Rafael. It was unseasonably cool and a storm was blowing in off the coast. The dark clouds were quickly rolling in, full and round, waiting to drop rain at any moment.  She shivered and pulled the collar of her fleece up around her neck. Her hair was piled high on top of her head, the silver caduceus necklace her father had given her felt like ice against the skin of her chest and neck.  Her hands were shoved deep in her pockets and she whispered a prayer as she walked towards Donahue’s that for at least tonight, it would be empty.

**

Ethan sat at the bar staring into his glass. The liquid inside swirled around and around as he tried to decide if he should have another.  This had been the first time he’d been anywhere other than the hospital or his house since saying goodbye to the only woman he ever truly loved. He thought he knew what love was before Allie came into his life, but he had been wrong before.

He knew he was in trouble the moment he saw her working with her first patient-emergency in the lobby and came to assist her.  He recognized her from her application. Knew exactly who she was. He was beaming with pride in the way she handled that situation and pretty much every other case after that. It wasn’t until she sat with him after Delores passed, when she didn’t have to, that he noticed something more…

Yes he was proud of her, but he realized in his mind he was claiming her as “his.” In his thoughts, she became “his Rookie” or “my Allie.”  No one knew that he had been staying well past the end of his actual shifts in order to spend time with her. He stayed so he could listen to her talk through complicated cases, and was consistently awed by her mind and how she sifted through facts to find the reasons behind a difficult diagnosis.  He would conveniently lean against the wall next to the nurses’ station to overhear her encourage the staff and applaud them all for helping her with a challenging patient.  In the cafeteria, he purposefully chose a seat in the back corner, by the window, so that he would be able to hear her laugh and joke with her friends.

Despite all this, he made the choice once again to pursue his true passion, medicine; the one thing he knew without a doubt he was good at.  

Love?

Being in a relationship?

He knew nothing about how to be successful in those things.  

But diagnosing patients?

Helping heal people?

He could do that.  It wasn’t scary. He didn’t put his heart on the line with a patient. He was confident in how to handle anything that came his way inside the confines of Edenbrook.

But outside?

In the real world?

With Allie?

Thinking of being with her and her relying on him, he didn’t know what to expect in that regard.

And he didn’t want to stick around any longer to find out if he would disappoint her, let her down, or fail himself. It was easier this way.  It should have never started to begin with and he’d never forgive himself for not being strong enough to stay away from her.

He somehow convinced himself that she didn’t really love him anyway. Not at least in the way he loved her.  She probably only looked up to him because of what she’d read or heard…not because of who he really was.  There was no possible way she could love him for him. Ethan was different than “Dr. Ramsey.” She had no idea what she would be getting into with him.  He was in a way protecting her from a lifetime of regret, loneliness and heartache. She would one day thank him for making sure they could never be together.

He knew that most people would look back on the events of that night one month ago and think more about the fact that he gave up everything he’d ever wanted and needed in a partner, for a job – something he had worked his whole life for and already achieved so much success in. It wouldn’t make sense to anyone else.

The voices had started on his walk home after clocking out from his last shift. It had been a hard one, he had lost another young woman. She was a mom of three and had simply waited too late to come in and find out why she had been tired for so long.  He cursed himself for not acting faster and finding a way to save her.  

He was reminded yet again of how much he let people down.  Years and years of experience had taught him that this was the very reason not to let people into his life. He always ended up disappointing them. He couldn’t save one of his oldest friends when she was supposed to be experiencing one of the happiest moments of her life. He couldn’t find a way to cure his role model, closest teacher and mentor. Hell, he couldn’t even lead a team of interns anymore without getting in the way.

Allie. He whispered her name out loud and closed his eyes as it passed his lips. At the mention of her name, he decided upon another drink and asked Reggie for one more.

He flinched as he remembered his last few moments alone with her.  The things he said…he had not meant any of it. It was simply a method he used to push her away; wanting to make her leave. He couldn’t take seeing her in front of him any longer. He was being a jerk on purpose, hoping this would change their dynamic enough for him not to want her and vice versa.  

Ethan told her that she needed to focus on her studies, and that she really wasn’t as high and mighty as she thought.  That being number one was only because he vouched for her and used his political clout within the hospital, that others didn’t feel that way about her abilities.  And then…

Then he told her the only reason she was still able to practice medicine was because of him.  That she had relied on him from the beginning and that it was him who was able to bail her out when she had her hearing.  That without him, she would be nothing. He told her it was time to learn on her own and not lean on him for everything. That he would always be her crutch if they stayed together and tried to make (whatever it was they had) work.

He'd never forget the audible gasp she released when he said those words. The sting that he could see in her eyes as she doubled over his kitchen sink, tears threatening to fall but somehow she reined them back in. It was at that moment she pushed the glass from the edge of the counter into the sink with an aggression and passion he had never seen from her. She looked up at him with those piercing green-blue eyes that he’d looked into so many times, and walked out of his life.

Lost in thought, staring at the labels lining the top of the tap, he felt a lump rising in his throat and swallowed hard as Reggie sat down his next drink with a loud thud.

“You okay?” Reggie asked, wiping his hands with a towel.

“Never been better.” Ethan smirked, cheers-ing to Reggie with his scotch and downing the drink in one smooth motion.

**

Allie shivered a little more as she stepped into Donahue’s, shaking off the rain.  Somehow she knew when she looked up that he would be there.  Ethan had not seen her yet, but a pit immediately filled her stomach when she recognized his profile, drinking a scotch as if it was a shot.  

She took a deep breath and told herself he was not going to make her leave. She had managed to avoid him at the hospital, asking friends to cover any cases she’d been assigned to that required her to meet with him.  She dodged him in the cafeteria by not sitting in the corner where she used to with her friends; her meals were eaten mostly alone now.  She sidestepped him in the hallways, took the stairs when he was in the elevator, and turned around the other way when he was at the nurses’ station.  He was NOT going to take away her night off to relax and unwind by herself at her favorite bar.

He must have felt her eyes on him because he immediately turned to face her, pausing, frozen in disbelief that she was standing there.  She was still angry. She had so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to prove to him.  She wanted to march up to him at the bar and slap him, but something kept her grounded in that moment, also unable to move.  They held eye contact with each other for what felt like an eternity, before Allie finally made the decision to settle into a booth.  She made sure to choose the booth farthest from the bar and purposefully turned her back to him.  She was an adult. She could do this.  She had to be strong enough to not let him rattle her anymore.

**

As soon as she entered Donahue’s Ethan made the decision to leave. The anguish and pain he caused her was too much and he couldn’t stand to be in her presence knowing what he had done to her.  

He quickly threw a few bills on the bar and stood up, adjusting his jacket and nodding to Reggie, indicating he was headed out.

Ethan always walked fast but his gait was even faster as he made his way to the entrance.  He was unaware that it was raining and he slammed the front door a little harder than he intended to as he stepped out into the elements.

This is perfect. He mumbled to himself as he tucked his head and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.  

He kept walking despite a number of cabs that stopped for him.  Before he knew it, he had circled the block a few times in his absentmindedness.  His thoughts and his heart were racing.  His focus and resolve to be mad…to stay away from Allie…to not give in to her and his desire for her, were diminishing.

Impulsively, as if he was being controlled by an unseen force, he found himself standing outside Donahue’s, soaking wet, knowing Allie was inside, alone. All that stood between him and making things right, was a conversation. He could waltz in there right this instant and make her talk to him. Admit everything and beg her forgiveness.

He tried to shake away his emotions. He didn’t want them dictating his actions, but he couldn’t.  Not this time.  His heart was overruling his head and he didn’t like it.

When he first became a doctor he remembered part of the Hippocratic oath about doing no harm. Technically, it wasn’t in the oath itself but Banerji had told him Hippocrates had said it in some other philosophical memo of sorts that people often confused with the Hippocratic oath physicians take upon med school graduation.  Ethan was always fascinated by how close the word Hippocratic was to hypocrite – and he felt it was ironic to be remembering this  now, at this moment of all times.

Not until now, had it ever occurred to him that working in the field of medicine might mean doing harm to those around him and not necessarily his patients.  How much longer would he allow his drive and his intense focus on his career to keep him from really living?

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, telling himself he needed to at least say he was sorry.  Sorry for hurting her. Sorry for disappointing her. Sorry for not being what she needed.

Ethan reached for the door but as he did, it opened right in front of him.

**

Allie opened the door, gasping for air. She had to get out of there. Her jacket felt as though it was made of lead, suffocating her with each breath. Seeing Ethan had sent her into more of a tailspin than she could have imagined. It felt as though she was coming up for air from being held underwater as she stepped out of the bar. But once again, the wind was knocked out of her when she realized she was face to face with Ethan.

Before she knew what was happening, he reached out for her, held his face in her hands and kissed her. His stubble was rough against her skin. His lips were warm and it seemed as though even his tongue  was desperate; searching for any response from her. Allie could feel the emotion, the passion, the power he was conveying with this kiss that took her by surprise…but she was still, cold and numb, unbelieving.

Breathless, Ethan pulled away, still holding her face as he whispered, “Rookie…I –“

Allie gently and confidently pulled his hands away from her face and placed them at Ethan’s side.

“I’m not your Rookie, Ethan.” She replied, tersely.

“I’m Dr. Alexandra Valentine. A medical intern on the diagnostics team at Edenbrook Hospital. And if you can’t accept that, then what the hell do you think you’re doing kissing me in the rain like that?”

Without giving him time to respond, Allie proudly and confidently brushed past him, walking down the street, again in the rain.  And this time, she didn’t look back.

[girlslikeguyswhosmoke]

There’s Something About Mrs. Kendall, Part 1

“That will be $142.50 today, Ma’am,” a middle-aged female voice said from the other side of the counter.

“Not as bad as I thought,” Mrs. Kendall replied.

She signed the credit card slip.

“I’ll be back next week to get the others taken care of,” she said. “Could I make the appointment now?”

“Sure,” the clerk said. “How many are you bringing in?”

“I’ve got four fur babies next week,” she said with a smile.

“Okay, I’ve got you down for 1:30 next Tuesday.”

“Thanks,” Mrs. Kendall said, bending down to pick up a pet crate, which contained three cats, a Siamese, an orange Maine Coon, and a smoky gray longhair.

She threw a smile at the clerk and turned to leave. But the vet clerk chuckled.

“See you next Tuesday, Ma’am” she said with a laugh.

Mrs. Kendall knew what this meant, but chose not to react. She was aware of her reputation, both as a “crazy cat lady” and as a crazy religious fanatic who belonged to a church that picketed the funerals of soldiers and desecrated Jewish graves with spray-painted swastikas.

As to the former, she was guilty as charged. The latter was unfortunately guilt by association. There was not a hateful bone in Mrs. Kendall’s body. Not one grain of her DNA hated black people or believed gay people should be put to death in accordance with the “good book.” Sadly, the same was not true of the remainder of her family, infamous and notorious, even in this small conservative town, where MAGA hats were worn openly and with pride.

Though it had been nearly 16 years since her family’s church had been run out of town, she was still unable to shake the horrible stigma of her last name.

At 62, she was healthy, never smoked a day in her life. In fact, the only tenet of her family’s belief system she shared was a distaste for tobacco and other substances. An active senior, she was semi-retired, though this was not entirely by choice. Finding an employer willing to give her a job in this town was a challenge. So she drove for Uber and Lyft to support herself and her 13 cats.

This meant she had ample contact with millennials, many too young to remember why she was so shunned by the people of her town. In fact, most of the few people she was on decent terms with were in excess of 30 years younger than she was.

She put the pet carrier in the back seat, then got into the driver’s seat and prepared to head home. Turning on the radio, she flipped through the several country stations, right-wing talk radio, and Christian radio stations that saturated the airwaves. Nothing was appealing.

Suddenly, her phone sounded the tone of the Uber app.

“Should I take this one?” she asked herself.

“Fuck it,” she decided, “I need the money.”

Moments later, she arrived at a 7 Eleven, where a teenage boy waved her down.

The boy was dressed in a black motorcycle jacket and tight faded and worn blue jeans. He wore a pair of sunglasses, even though it was overcast on this day. He was thin and stood about 5’ 7”. He was holding a backpack. She guessed he was maybe 14 years old.

“Did you call for an Uber?” she asked.

“That would be me,” the boy replied, his voice all but confirming her suspicion about his age.

“You have to be 18 to use the app,” she said.

The boy took off his sunglasses and looked at her with pouting blue eyes.

“Oh come on,” he said. “I’ve really got to get to Game Stop.”

Mrs. Kendall deliberated.

Then she pulled out her phone and declined the fare.

“Hop in,” she said. “You’ll want to ride in front. I’ve got my babies in the back.”

The boy got into her car and shut the door.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Kendall,” he said.

“How do you know my name?” she asked.

“Uhh...I think everybody knows your name,” he said.

“So how old are you?” she asked.

“15,” he said. “But I’ll be 16 next month. And I’ll have my license.”

She looked over at him and smiled, empathizing with his desire for independence.

“I’m getting a bike,” he said.

“Interesting,” she said. “Well, you look the part.”

Silence fell over the two and the boy began to jam to a song that was apparently playing in his head. Mrs. Kendall looked over at him and smiled.

“Sorry,” he said.

They came to a stop light next to the strip mall where Game Stop was located.

“Umm,” the boy said, “You think there’s one more favor I can ask?”

“Okay?” Mrs. Kendall replied.

“Wait for me at Game Stop,” he said. “When I’m done, I’ll give you some money. Think you can go to that smoke shop and buy me a pack of smokes?”

Mrs. Kendall balked.

“No way,” she said flatly.

“I’ll give you 20 bucks,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll come out of Game Stop with a hundred.”

“Maybe you didn’t understand me,” she said. “I’m not buying cigarettes for a 15-year-old.”

“Buy me two and I’ll give you 40,” he said.

She looked over at the gorgeous blue eyes staring dotingly at her. Of course, she knew she was being manipulated. Nevertheless, in the moment, her resolve began to break. After all, this was not her son. She wasn’t responsible for his well-being.

And 40 bucks was 40 bucks.

She drove into the parking lot at Game Stop.

“Hurry up,” she said, still not committing to commit the crime of purchasing tobacco for a minor. But clearly the boy had reason to feel optomisitc.

About 20 minutes later, the boy emerged from Game Stop, with the beaming, happy-go-lucky face replaced with one of disappointment.

He opened the car door and handed her a $10 bill.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said.

As he shut the door and prepared to walk away, she rolled down the window.

“Wait...what happened?” she asked.

“They only bought one of my games,” he said. “Sucks.”

He smiled.

“Was worth a try, right?” he said.

She hated herself for what she did next.

“Get back in the car,” she said. “Where’s the smoke shop?”

Without hesitation, he opened the door and got back in the car.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Kendall,” he said, his face returning to the bright and innocent, yet clearly manipulative smile he had presented before.

She drove him to the shopping center where the smoke shop was located and pulled into the Subway parking, at the opposite end of the strip mall from the smoke shop. This was so that the person behind the counter wouldn’t ask to see the ID of her passenger, as many smoke shops and liquor stores tended to do.

This meant placing an enormous amount of blind trust in a manipulative teenage boy she had met a only half hour before-- she trusted him not only with her unattended car, but also her three cats in the back seat. She was stepping so far outside of herself and her own series of actions stunned her.

But there was something about this kid. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but somehow she knew she could trust him. Even though she didn’t even know his name yet.

She walked into the smoke shop and stepped up to the counter. She had never been in such a place before. She had no reason to.

“Two packs of Newports?” she nervously asked the clerk.

“Shorts or hundreds?” the clerk asked.

Trying to conceal the deer-in-the-headlights look on her face, she smiled at him.

“Shorts,” she said decisively, figuring it might be preferred by novice smokers like the 15-year-old outside waiting in her car.

The clerk grabbed two green packs of Newports from the rack behind the counter. But before he could ring up the sale...

“Do you mind if I see your ID, Ma’am?” The clerk said.

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Kendall said.

“It’s the law,” he said. “We’ve got to card everybody.”

Mrs. Kendall wanted to laugh. If only he knew...

Moments later, she stepped outside to the sound of loud country music blasting from her car. The boy sitting in the passenger seat with the window rolled down had the seat reclined and his feet on her dash, but quickly took them down once he noticed her.

She shot him a disapproving glare as she approached the car.

“Looks like you’ve made yourself real comfortable,” she said, handing him the two packs of cigarettes.

She got back in the car and immediately turned off the radio and then glared at him.

“I hope you know I’ve just committed a felony,” she said.

He smiled back at her as he tore open the pack.

“Actually it’s only a misdemeanor,” he said. “And that’s only if I tell anyone where I got these...which, of course, I have no intention of doing.”

Mrs. Kendall shook her head.

How? How did she let herself get talked into all of this?

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. If you need any yard work done...anything. I’m good for it,” he said.

“Actually,” she said. “I’m pretty sure I can find lots of things that need to be done.”

“By the way,” she asked, “What’s your name?”

He pulled out a fresh Newport from the pack and smiled back at her.

“Justin,” he said, his cigarette bobbing up and down as it dangled from his lips.

“Not in my car!” she said.

He pulled the cigarette from his lips.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know...”

Did he seriously think he could just light up in somebody’s car? What century did he think he was being raised in? Mrs. Kendall obviously grew up during a time when virtually every 15-year-old smoked cigarettes and nobody ever asked “Do you mind if I smoke?”. But that was so many years ago.

“Alright,” she said. “Go ahead.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Just keep the window rolled down,” she requested.

With that, Justin placed his cigarette back in his mouth, cupped his hands over it like a pro, and fired up his lighter.

Through the corner of her eye, Mrs. Kendall saw a stream of smoke emerge from the boy’s mouth as soon as it was lit. An inexperienced smoker he was not.

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew a cloud out the window, in an effort to comply with Mrs. Kendall’s wishes. But that didn’t stop it from blowing right back inside-- right into Mrs. Kendall’s face.

She turned to him and gave him a very stern look of disapproval. But he just smiled back at her, his eyes concealed by his shades.

At that moment, something clicked. Mrs. Kendall couldn’t figure it out. But seeing Justin sitting next to her, dressed up in a motorcycle jacket, wearing a pair of shades, and chilling with a cigarette stirred up an image she was strangely drawn to....

...But then the thought vanished completely from her mind. She could not allow her mind to go where she was afraid it wanted to go.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Why are you smoking?” she asked. “I thought vaping was the thing these days.”

“I used to vape,” Justin said. “But cigarettes are easier to come by and don’t need as much maintenance.”

“I mean,” he continued. “I’m gonna quit when I’m 20.”

Mrs. Kendall laughed.

“Why 20?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Justin said. “Seems like a good age.”

“You going to college, the military…?”

“I don’t know,” Justin replied. “Haven’t really thought too much about it. Right now I just want to get my bike, get a job, you know...”

“Doesn’t the job come before the bike?” Mrs. Kendall asked.

“The bike is my birthday present,” he said.

Obviously, Justin doesn’t come from a poor family, she thought.

Justin continued to smoke, taking deep inhales and measured exhales, just like a person who had been smoking for years would do. In fact, he had not been smoking for that long. He received his training through vaping. He took bigger drags in an effort to match the smoke output from vaping. Consequently, he reeked of smoke most of the time. This begged a very obvious question.

“Do your parents know you smoke?” Mrs. Kendall asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “They don’t allow it in the house and they won’t buy my cigarettes.”

“Well,” Mrs. Kendall said, “Good for them.”

Justin took one final huge drag from his cigarette before tossing the butt out the window. As he exhaled the final cloud of smoke, he rolled the window up, trapping the majority of it in the car.

“Roll it down,” Mrs. Kendall ordered. “Let my car air out first before you roll it back up.”

“Okay,” Justin said, rolling the window back down.

He pulled out another cigarette and lit up. The rolled-down window gave him another opportunity to have another one, so why not?

Mrs. Kendall, for her part, did not complain. She watched him torch up his lighter in the corner of her eye, this time with interest. And the first though that came to her mind was, why can’t this kid just be 20 years older?

But that was as far as she was going to let that thought go.

Despite her infamous family history, Mrs. Kendall was not a religious person. But after everything she did today, she was sure she was going to hell.

And so began an interesting friendship.

[a-functional-lowlife-blog]

8.11.19

So I’ve never really utilized anything other than a diary to jot down my daily feels, but something tells me I might find some comfort knowing that nobody can sneak into my room and read my journal. Tumblr seems like a good enough void to dump these thoughts into. Maybe it’s my psyche craving a positive outlet.. Id rather this be private, but sometimes connections supposed to help, right?  If topics of abuse, death, suicide, or depression trigger you, please do not continue reading. So I guess, let’s start from the top.

I’m 2X years old, & I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing with my life right now. I’m a gamer, & employed, But it’s not like I”m pursuing some great dream. I’m kind of coasting through life, trading experiences for fragments of myself. But I’m honestly rather content, at the moment. I make decent enough money. I can afford to shelter myself, feed myself, & entertain myself. So to some people, yeah it might look like i’ve had it pretty easy. In some ways, I have; in others, not really. 

It was just me & my mom growing up. Dad wasn’t around, & i don’t really want to get into that right now. My mom did everything she could for me. And I, of course being a growing hormonal boy, never truly appreciated it until I got into the real world. Thanks mom. She low-key prepared me for almost anything. I graduated high school, no special titles or accolades, but I could hear her screaming well above the entire stadium of parents when they called my name. I hope I can make her that proud again someday. I haven’t seen her in almost 4 years. Life can be a bitch like that once you’re an actual adult.

Since graduating high school, I’ve fathered a child, a little girl, who continues to blow my mind every day, with her brains & beauty. Damn, my ugly mug made one amazing little girl. Everything I do, I do for her. Even when it doesn’t seem like it. The mother & I are still on fantastic terms, but we separated a couple years after the birth. It just didn’t work as a healthy relationship anymore, & our daughter deserved better than that. 

After we parted ways, I got myself tangled up with a girl that, in hindsight, I should have never said hello to. Now don’t get me wrong, the first 2 years were truly magical. She was young, beautiful, petite body, alternative with piercings & tattoos. Which was basically me, young, rather handsome, fit body, alternative with piercings and tattoos. A match, it would seem, made in heaven. She made me feel alive again. She reinvigorated me to my soul, showed me new experiences I never could have imagined, or dared to do otherwise. I felt happy. Which for me, is a rather fleeting bird, one that’s typically driven away by the raven. It was just like a fairy-tale. We all know those aren’t real. I should have seen the warning signs. The “red flags” that everyone says I ignored. But red flags look like regular flags when looking through rose-tinted glass. If you’ve stumbled upon this by chance, & are triggered by abuse, or suicide, I suggest you stop reading now. 

It started out with little things. Roast-like insults, but sometimes they hurt a little more than they should. Which, obviously, led my mind to tell me “stop being so sensitive.” I’d let it slide. As we approached the 2 year mark, it started getting nastier. Her patience with me was very thin. The smallest error, like I forgot to pick up soda on the way home from my 10 hour shift once, led to me being belittled with insults to my intelligence & even attacks on my dedication to her. It only got worse as time went on. I silently cried myself to sleep most nights. My self-esteem was in an entirely different dimension by this point. I’ve become completely submissive to her. I looked at myself in the mirror one night, after doing things that I regret doing, and being disgusted in myself for letting it get so bad. For never stepping back up & standing my ground. I got us through homelessness. I had helped her get help because she had a severe mental illness that I will not put here. Her every wish, within my power, was my command. Why should I tolerate being treated like something stuck to the bottom of her shoe when kindness didn’t suit her?  So I did. That was the first time she hit me. Just once, open palmed to my left temple.

It didn’t stop. It got worse. I will not go into details, because almost 3 years later, I still panic when I try to think about those months. Most of my friends & family do not know how bad it got. And those that do, do not even know who she even was. It collapsed faster when I started to dissociate after multiple (thankfully) failed suicide attempts. I started cheating, trying to get her to leave me, since she wouldn’t allow me to leave her without threatening to kill herself. “You’re my soulmate, I won’t live without you.” She kept me in that state of submissive fear for another year, using the same lines. Using the same deflection tactics to make me question myself. All while calling me her “soul mate”. I hate that fucking word now. 

But I did finally get the courage to leave. In the middle of the night, a train ride back to my hometown. She tried to work back into my life a few times over the next 2 years. I eventually stopped talking to her, because she would always try to convince me to come back to her, that it can be different, that she’s willing to start over. So I stopped talking to her last year. And now, I can’t anymore, because last month, she killed herself. I honestly never stopped loving her. I can feel the hole where her energy used to be, the bits she contributed to my soul, snuffed out.. I blame myself for her suicide. And I hate that I fell in love with such a beautiful, toxic soul.

We can skip over the few fling relationships I held while in my hometown, except for one girl, who I will forever thank for showing me what a true loving, healthy relationship, based on trust and open communication can actually be like. We got into it knowing we were on a time limit, because I was already in the process of saving up to move again, this time, 3,000 miles away. But we had good chemistry, and I think the relationship was the perfect amount of time for both of us. She’s a LoZ girl. Major fan. As in, owns every game, tons of merch, follows tons of streamers on Twitch who play Legend of Zelda, especially if it’s Ocarina of Time. Coastal gamer girl is probably the best description of her. She’s still one of my best friends, & I talk to her on occasion. She’s super happy, and living a rather adventurous life. I’m super happy for her. 

Our fateful day came, and I had to move away. She comforted me during the entire packing process. Which literally filled 2 boxes I shipped to my new address, my military backpack, & a laptop case. It still resulted in 8 hours of back to back anxiety attacks. I only knew TWO people in the town where I was moving to. One of them, I had never physically met before in our entire 14 year friendship. So, rightfully, I was terrified to leave. I’d reconnected with old friends in my hometown. I’d met an amazing girl in my hometown. I’d landed a really fantastic job in the medical field in my hometown. What was I thinking?! Leave all of THIS?!

But I knew why. She knew why. Everyone in my life knew why. The answer was simple. Yeah, I had a good job, a good girl, & a relatively good life. But I wasn’t truly happy. In my soul. Just as I was in the states I’ve lived before. And that was okay. We had the perfect amount of happiness.

So here I am, in an undisclosed new location, three-thousand miles away from my hometown. And honestly, I’m happier here than I’ve ever been anywhere else. Do I see myself dying here? No, not really. But I could kick it here for a decade or so, if the fates allow my life that long? Sure. The best friend I’d never met before, is just as amazing in person. We play video games together now & then, and go out to the downtown bar scene sometimes for karaoke. There’s 3 roommates total. I enjoy being their roommate. Also, there’s 4 cats. who I absolutely love, and will contemplate posting their pictures here too, for memories sake.

I’ve made some really amazing friends, especially one girl in particular. She’s been very good to me, in many ways. Dinners, events, concerts, party weekend for my last birthday to pass. All while both of us just have a blast around each other. She’s helped me alot these last few months, everything from food to rent, while I struggled to find work, & get on my own two feet. I struggled for 5 months before I landed myself where I am now. So to celebrate, she & I went and got tattoos today.

I got a tattoo of the chemical structure of serotonin on my wrist. To remind myself to be happy, because I’ve already spent so much time being sad. And that I’m going to keep making myself happier, by staying true to myself, learning & growing from the events I’ve been through in my life, both good and bad. Creative, & destructive. Because it’s all molded me into who I am now.

So really without getting into childhood stories, high school shenanigans, & college hijinx, that’s the story of Z. A recent handle I’ve taken to lately, in case someone does decide to read this. I’d like to add to this little... off-site journal once a week, maybe more often.

That’s all I’ve got for today. I’m sufficiently stoned now, & would like to return to playing Apex Legends.

Signing off, 

Z

[inactiveblogxoxo]

kiribaku angst fic

prompt given by @babymutant thanks so much!!!!!!!!!!! <3 i hope u enjoy it

Title: i thought that you needed love

Sum: Bakugou and Kirishima get into a fight. They end up not speaking for four weeks. Bakugou messed up really bad and he doesn't know how to fix it or even how to try. So he doesn't. (happy end)

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700515

full fic in readmore

It wasn’t like they were perfect.

And Bakugou would be willing to admit, that when they first got together he almost thought they were. Things just felt so right with Kirishima. It felt so natural and relaxed. He felt so at home and he… He was so… in love.

Kirishima’s smile always got his heart beating and his knees feeling weak.

Which was stupid.

Which was the problem.

This time they were fighting, and it was completely Bakugou’s fault.

He just… He wasn’t good at this shit, and he wanted to be. Well. No actually he didn’t but Eijirou wanted him to be and he… wanted to be someone that Eijirou wanted.

And that’s how it was, he was running himself in circles. Fighting against his pride and whatever other fucked up notions about romance he had in his head.

It had been two days since they last talked, well screamed, at each other.

Their fight?

Their fight was the stupidest fucking fight for a couple to ever have.

Eijirou told him he loved him. It was early morning. He had just woken up in Eijirou’s bed. Light peaked through Ei’s curtains and shone through his red hair… it looked like flame basking around Eijirou’s face. Bakugou had felt warm, felt comfortable. It was a familiar sight but one he never got used to. He didn’t want to. He wanted to remain amazed by Kirishima’s beauty every fucking day of his life.

But then… then he said: “I love you.”

Kirishima’s lips whispered it into his skin, forced him to hear it, to feel it.

…

Fuck! …He couldn’t think about this anymore.

He grabbed his gym bad and headed to the woods.

He needed to blow off some steam, now.

He could still see Kirishima’s face. He tried punching it out of his system but it wasn’t working.

The look on his face made him want to puke. He put that look there. It was all his fault.

Eijirou told him he loved him, and he told him to fuck off.

“This isn’t a joke, Katsuki. I love you.” His hands tightened on his shoulders, serious, but Bakugou couldn’t back down.

“I’m not joking, Ei. Fuck off and shut up.” Eijirou’s face twisted into something horrible. Pain, grief, rejection, anger.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He pushed Bakugou further into the bed.

“What the fuck is my problem? What the fuck is your problem? You love me are you fucking serious? Why are you so fucking stupid?”

“Please tell me how I’m stupid for loving you. You’re my boyfriend, Katsuki. What do you want me to do? Not fall in love with you? Then why the fuck are you here? What the fuck are we doing?”

“We’re not being fucking pansy weak romantic fucks, that’s for damn sure.” Bakugou sat up and got off the bed. He grabbed his clothes and started pulling them on.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m not changing my personality, I’m just telling you I’m in love with you. I thought you wanted me to love you!”

“I don’t! …I thought we were good the way we are!”

“You don’t want me to love you?” The shift in tone stopped Bakugou in his tracks. He looked back to the bed.

Kirishima’s jaw was clenched and tears ran down his cheeks. He refused to meet Bakugou’s eyes, he wouldn’t look at him at all.

“Get the fuck out, Bakugou.” Ouch

“Ei, I don’t hate you, I just… aren’t we already good enough?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Get out! I get it, you don’t love me, you don’t want to love me, you don’t want me to love you. Message re-fucking-ceived.”

“Ei-“

“Get. Out.”

“FUCK!” He let off a huge explosion. It was cathartic. Destroying shit. Like how he destroyed his relationship with Kirishima.

God damn it, why did he sabotage everything good in his fucking life? Why couldn’t he say it? Why couldn’t he accept it? Why couldn’t he view love as anything other than fucking weak!

This was so fucking stupid! It’s a fucking word! One fucking sentence! Kirishima was right, it didn’t change anything for them! Eijirou was still the same! It’s not like their relationship would turn into something fucking else from three fucking words!

Eijirou just needed to hear it. He needed to hear things spelled out sometimes.

He knew that, he knew that!

…

What the fuck is wrong with him?

…

He got back to his phone to find seven texts and three voicemails.

Eijirou

The texts were too hard to decipher. He was drunk, he had to be for the texts to be that bad. The calls…were hard to hear.

“Kats…baby, where are you? When are you gonna come back? I miss you and… I’m so fucking sad and I don’t remember why?…oh… wait…wait a second… katsuki? Wait, fuck… FUCK... Fuck you, man! You fucking suck! I can’t believe I forgot! What the fuck! Fuck you! …Kaminari! How much have I fucking had-“

..

“What the fuck, Bakugou! What the fuck!? It’s three fucking words!? What is your problem! Why don’t you love me? Why not?” He was sobbing. “What… what am I not doing for you? I thought… I thought you needed me. I need you. I can’t-“ His voice cut out and there was some shuffling, he heard Kaminari say something like “come on, man, you gotta stop calling him,” before the call ended.

..

“…get out of my fucking head, you sick fuck.”

Kirishima didn’t sound like he was crying anymore.

Bakugou had just started.

Two weeks in and Katsuki stopped showing up for patrol.

It was weird.

His whole life all he wanted was to be a hero. To be the number one hero.

But…Without Kirishima…He just… couldn’t care anymore. He tried, he did. The first week, he threw himself into work. No Kirishima meant no distractions, right? Just get the job done, train, go home. Work was all he thought about…until it wasn’t.

Then he would train, destroy some trees in the woods behind his apartment. But then… those fucking messages…

He never drank in his life, worried it would somehow destroy his chances of being number one, but he found himself at the liquor store. If it helped Kirishima get over him, it should work the other way around.

He packed a bag and checked into a motel. He couldn’t be home anymore. Everything reminded him of Kirishima.

He just needed to not think for a while.

…

When he woke up he noticed he had called Kirishima. Only once. He doubted Kirishima answered. He wondered what he said. Would Kirishima cry at his voice like he had sobbed at his?

Fuck this was all so fucking stupid.

He needed to do something.

…

Week three and he still hadn’t been home. Or to work.

He wondered if anyone even knew where the fuck he was. He doubted anyone cared. His friends were almost all Kirishima’s friends first, or they lived too far away to be so involved in his life. Camie was in America for the year. Deku too. Uraraka was helping out with the Japanese space program, who knew if she was even on fucking Earth. Todoroki… Todoroki might be around.. He was in the suburbs somewhere, working with children or some shit. But he was best friends with Sero and if Sero told him about the fight would he side with Kirishima too?

He decided he didn’t want to talk to Todoroki regardless.

He wanted… He wanted to talk to Eijirou.

Fuck, that wasn’t a fucking option was it?

Fuck.

He ended up just drinking again.

..

“Ei?”

“Bakugou? Where are you? You haven’t been showing up for work and when they went to your apartment your neighbors said you haven’t been there all week.”

“Ei. I… Can I come home?”

“Bakugou, you can go home whenever you want. What are you even talking about? I don’t care if you go to your own apartment or not-“

“No.”

“…”

“No. I want. I meant…”

“…Are you crying?”

“C-can you come hold me like you used to? Can you call me Kats and baby and whatever dumb nickname you want because I am. I am dumb. And I’m yours. I’m your dumb baby.”

“Katsuki… Are you…drunk? You never drink. It’s one in the afternoon, what are you doing? Where are you?”

“…I have to go.”

“Where? Where are you going? Bakugou, where are you-?!”

He hung up.

He couldn’t listen to Eijirou not love him anymore.

…

Week four and Kaminari showed up at his hotel room.

“Finally ran out of cash and used the credit card, huh?” Bakugou rolled his eyes and let him enter, he was too tired to put up a fight. Kaminari whistled as he entered, “dude, isn’t there room service here? How the hell is your room this messy?”

“…what do you want, Kaminari?”

“Wow,” Kaminari stared at him. “No mean nickname, no anger, no annoyance? Who are you?” He gave him a once over, Bakugou was sure he looked as tired as he felt. He wasn’t sure when he last showered either, or changed. All he can remember doing is drinking. Fuck. Has he even been eating?

Whatever.

“Bakugou, we… Nobody thought…wow. You’re… you’re really not doing well, huh?” Kaminari gulped and scratched the back of his neck. “We all expected you’d rage out or something but… you look…” Kaminari didn’t say it but Bakugou heard it ring in his head anyway.

Broken.

“How’s Eijirou?”

“Better than this, don’t get me wrong this fight is affecting him too but,” Kaminari bit his tongue and turned away. “I’m so sorry, Bakugou. We all thought…You could handle this, we thought it’d be best to leave you alone, give you space. Kirishima said that what you usually need after a fight and so, well… Fuck, come on. Take a shower and change, we’re gonna go get something to eat and check out of this fucking motel.”

..

Bakugou found himself at a diner. He had to admit, he felt better after showering and putting on fresh clothes. The food was helping to, even if it was hard to force himself to eat.

Kaminari excused himself to take a phone call. Bakugou caught the caller id, it was Sero. He wondered if Sero was with Kirishima.

God damn it, he can’t go an hour without thinking about him. He was pathetic. Kaminari said it himself, he’s not that bad. He’s better off. He’ll move on. He’s been moving on.

But Bakugou. Bakugou will be in love with him forever. And the only reason they’re not together right now in the first place is because he’s a fucking idiot you couldn’t tell his boyfriend the truth.

He tripped out over three fucking words that were true anyway.

It’s true, Eijirou.

When Kaminari came back Bakugou was crying. He wordlessly handed him some tissues.

Bakugou could tell he was really freaking Kaminari out, he’d never seen the blonde so quiet before, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care.

He just really couldn’t care about anything.

“Bakugou, I’m gonna take you home okay? I’ll go back to the motel and get your stuff, you just rest. And no drinking, alright?”

Bakugou nodded and got up to follow him out of the diner. Kaminari threw some cash for the food on the table and they left.

..

The car stopped with a jolt and Bakugou realized he had fallen asleep. Blindly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car.

His stomach dropped.

“Kaminari, this is-“

“I know, dude,” Kaminari sighed, “Sero and I think this is best. We also… We think you guys should get, like, counseling or something… But that’s…That’s a whole ‘nother conversation just, for now just… Apologize.”

Sero came out of the apartment building and approached them.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly. He, too, gave Bakugou a once over. He winced at seeing how thin his stomach looked, “Bakugou…”

“I can’t do this.”

“Bakugou,” Sero gripped his shoulder, “what are you talking about? Of course, you can. It’s Kirishima.”

“He’s not gonna forgive me.”

“You don’t know that,” Kaminari grabbed his other shoulder. “You have to try.”

He took a shaky breath to try to cool his nerves.

He had to try.

..

He still had a key to the apartment building. Which was good, he didn’t know if Kirishima would let him up if he tried. He had a key to the apartment but he was sure he shouldn’t use it.

So, he knocked.

The door swung open without a second thought. Too fast, Bakugou found himself completely unprepared to see Kirishima face to face.

“Did you fo- oh.” Kirishima froze. His eyes roamed across his face. Bakugou couldn’t speak. He could feel tears already welling up in his eyes. Fuck. He had to say something. He had to say it.

“I’m sorry,” the words could barely come out. He couldn’t hold the tears anymore. “Eijirou, I’m so sorry. I lied. I fucking lied. Please, I…”

Kirishima stepped back from the door, “come in.”

He did. Kirishima eyed his torso and he suddenly felt self-conscious.

But he didn’t have time for that right now, he had some shit he had to say.

“Katsuki-“

“No. Ei, please,” Kirishima closed his mouth. Bakugou took a breath to steady himself. He had to say this. And he had to say this now.

“I love you,” Eijirou’s eyes snapped to his. Red to red, both sad, both hopeful. “I’ve only ever fucking loved you. There wasn’t a moment, in all of our time together, that I didn’t love you, Eijirou. I’m sorry I was scared. And stupid, so fucking stupid. I know you. I know what you needed from me and at that moment… I… I couldn’t give it to you. And it’s become the greatest regret of my life.

I’ve been going crazy without you. I don’t know who I am without you. I don’t know when or how but I began to define myself in terms of you. I’m the guy that met you…. That fell in love with you… I’m the guy that would do anything for you, that’s who I am. Without you… I’m. I can’t exist, Eijirou. I’m ruined and I’m terrified.

And I love you. I love you so fucking much and I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I don’t. That I ever made you feel like I don’t want you. Because that is the biggest lie on the planet Earth and you never ever deserve to feel unloved. Never.”

“…I love you too,” Eijirou smiled, he was crying. Katsuki slowly approached him, Eijirou watched him but made no move to turn away. He leaned in and kissed away the redhead’s tears. Eijirou gripped his waist and gasped, “Kats, you’re so skinny… Oh my god, what happened to you?” He gently pushed the blonde away and examined his face. His thumbs gently rubbed his cheeks and Bakugou let himself cry and be comforted.

“I’ll be okay,” he whispered, “can I stay the night?”

“Baby, just stay forever. I can barely sleep… And then you were missing and…”

“I didn’t mean to worry you.” The grip around him tightened.

“You need to take care of yourself. Even if I’m not around. Even if this doesn’t work out. Even if we fight again. You can’t disappear like that, you can’t stop working and stop eating…” He pulled away and grabbed Katsuki’s hands. He nudged the blonde’s head until they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “Katsuki, I’m glad you love me, I’m so happy. But I can’t be the only reason you exist. That’s not healthy. Work means a lot to you, I know it does. You can’t live only for me, you have to live for yourself first, okay?”

Bakugou didn’t say anything, he didn’t know what to say.

So, he nodded. He knew he couldn’t change his thinking so easily, but he would try. Maybe they should check out that counseling thing that Kaminari was talking about… Or at least he should… Maybe therapy or something.

But right now, that could wait. Right now, he could nuzzle his face into Kirishima’s neck and Kirishima could run his hands through his hair. And they could kiss.

They could kiss.

They kissed.

Thanks for reading <3 please considering buying me a coffee on kofi, link is on my tumblr. Feel free to send me a prompt too! :)

[trustonlylokiposts-blog]

Diagnosis: Chapter 2

Stark Tower and Nailing an Interview: chapter two.

 I said my goodbyes to Koda and summoned an Uber, they smelled better than Taxis and I wanted to impress my interviewer. My long brown hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail, I wore a black blouse and a black pencil skirt, a green silk shawl, a modest silver necklace. I opened my phone and checked my messages, a few friends from the clinic I used to work at had all spammed me with questions, apparently I should have elaborated on where I was going to interview, and who I was going to work for. And who I was going to be my patient, or patients. I was excited

Trust me, I’ve never felt this excited before. I mean, practicing medicine for the Avengers, that’s insane.

I also had a few concerned texts from my mom after I had told her what happened the night before. Coming from a small town in Utah meant that we never had to worry about cat calling, potential rapists. I reassured her I was fine, and that Koda does a fantastic job of keeping me safe. As we neared the tower the driver broke the silence, “Stark Industries? What kind of secretary are you going to be?” I snorted, “Actually I a medical doctor. I am applying to be the Avengers on staff physician.” After a moment of really awkward silence, “Oh, my apologies doctor..” We pulled into the entrance and I stepped out, waving goodbye and rating him at a salty 5 stars. I stepped inside and walked to the front desk and cleared my throat, a women with a tight platinum blonde bun looked up at me. She plastered a fake smile and asked how she could help me. I explained that I was here for an interview for The Avengers physician. I let her scan my ID and take my picture which she printed off and put inside a little clip labeled “visitor”

I made my way to an elevator and followed the directions on which floor to head to, as the elevator made it’s way up the tower I began to feel slightly nervous, this kind of job sounded amazing, what if a more competent physician applied? I knew I was brilliant and was known as a prodigy, (not to toot my own horn) But for an opportunity like this, there had to be all kinds of amazing doctors applying. The elevator opened and I stepped out, woah. I was greeted to something I would expect in a high end Penthouse. A large open room with tall windows that boasted an excellent New York view, near the windows were several luxurious couches and loves seats, to my left was a bar that had more high-end liquor than the entire state of Utah could ever allow in a single building. “Ah, look at that our young doctor appears!” I was fairly surprised to see that it was Tony Stark who greeted me, I stepped forward and shook his hand with a warm smile, “My name is Doctor Julie Stirling, it is my absolute pleasure to meet you, thank you for this incredible opportunity.” Stark grinned at me and lead me to the bar and pulled out a stool for me then sat down and gestured for me to follow suit, which I did while trying my best to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. “Can I offer you a drink? Water, tea, coffee, I wouldn’t recommend alcohol this early, but you do you.” I chuckled and declined his offer as I pulled out of resume, cover letter, and a list of my references and their recommendations and admirations. Tony skimmed through the information I handed him and let out a low whistle. “29 years old and already such an incredible physician, young, brilliant, capable, a genius among men! You remind me of myself” Stark added with a chuckle, “I did hear that you abruptly left  your previous job while cursing your employer out. Care to elaborate on that?” I bit my lip and felt embarrassment rise through me, “I.. It’s not like me sir, he is a very disrespectful man and I had enough. I knew my skills and knowledge were going to waste and I couldn’t stand being belittled anymore. Trust me when I say I am very professional and my bedside manner is excellent I-“ Tony cut me off with a wave of his hand, “Trust me I know about Doctor Wallis, that creepy old man has brought nothing but complaints from the people I’ve asked. Plus hey, I need something with the backbone to stand up for themselves. You’ll be working with some thick headed assholes, myself included. I need to know you wont be pushed around when it’s unnecessary.”

Tony looked through my resume once more and added “You are young, and you don’t have as much experience under your belt as the other applicants but.. That might actually prove useful. I need a fresh mind, something who is willing to take a step into medicine that may be more complicated than what other doctors have studied and worked with. And reading about your incredible track record of absolutely blowing away the universities you studied under I am certain that you learn quickly, and you’re fast on your feet too.” We talked for a little longer, Tony explaining how things generally worked around the tower, “Most of your responsibilities are focused on the Avengers, however if needed I will have you tend to Stark employees as well. However they all have their own doctor they see when necessary. I guess you’re just a backup when needed. But I don’t think it would come to that, plus you will have enough on your plate anyway. With keeping up with the team and building your understanding of erm.. Otherworldly beings,  Dr. Banner is also adapt in medicine and is incredible and will work along side you when it comes to finding things that can keep up with different physiologies and metabolisms.” Tony stood and motioned for me to follow, “I like you kid, come with me, I’m thinking I want to hire you. But I need you to meet someone first. He has been so gracious as to agree and let us heal him. He allows us the possibility to understand Asgardians and well.. He has no choice to be here and isn’t quite healthy enough to do much about it anyway.” I followed Stark through a set of doors and was led down a hallway and through another set of doors, I raised an eyebrow when I noticed what looked like two SHEILD agents guarding the entrance. Stark breezed past them and opened the doors and walked in, I followed closely but halted when I noticed a hospital bed, connected to a few IV’S and a heart monitor was the one and only Loki. He was propped up on the bed reading a book. He was pale, way paler than he was when he was last seen on TV. His hair was an absolute mess and while he seemed tired he also gave off the vibe that he was still not to be messed with. Stark cleared his throat and introduced me, “hey Prince of Jokes, we have someone who might possibly be tending to you. Say hello!” Loki looked at me and I felt myself tense, How in the actual hell am I suppose to take care of him?

“Hello, worry not mortal, I am under very direct orders not to cause chaos, else I am thrown back into my cells on Asgard which would not be pleasant due to my current condition. It appears that aiding Thor in stopping the Dark Elves from destroying everything and consequently being stabbed by a kursed blade only earns me a break from my imprisonment on Asgard, to one here. To be a test subject for idiot Midgardians to use their barbaric technology to learn how to heal their precious Avengers.”

Tony rolled his eyes and said “Don’t worry, Thor was able to get some direction to help heal him, under these special circumstances it would be difficult to keep him from dying without a little Asgardian aid, they have provided strong drugs to give his body the energy and… Cider?” “Seidr” Loki cut in, “Seidr, anyway, that is some of what we have running through his veins right now. His body heals at an incredible rate but what went through him on that strange elf planet puts up a lot of fight. Combining drugs that keep his energy from draining we can allow him to do most of the healing on his own. What you will be doing is keeping a stable eye on his vitals and pain. We do have very potent pain killers for when he needs them. Trust me you’ll know. You think he’s a prick now? Wait until his ouchie is hurting, he’ll bitch at you until you either decide to give him the precious drug or kill him.” Loki rolled his eyes, “I would hardly call it bitching, if you even could fathom the amount of pain I am forced to endure while under the mockery of mortals you would be irritable as well.”

I looked Loki over then looked back to Tony, “I think I can handle him, at least as long as he continues to be relatively harmless.” Loki sneered but said nothing, Tony clapped his hands together. “Yes! Okay, I am going to offer you this job. For the foreseeable future Loki is your main concern. Keeping his pain under control, his healing on track and making sure his bandages are changed and infection is avoided. He may be ‘godly’ but he still is vulnerable at the moment.” That earned an insulted scoff from Loki that Tony promptly ignored, “Thor was told that Loki’s estimated healing time should be a month if everything goes smoothly. After Loki is healed we will go from there. Oh, because you are our on sight physician I have provided a modest apartment here at the tower. Your home will be located on the same floor as the handful of Avengers who live here. Thor is off and on when it comes to being here on earth, but you’ll get to know Natasha Rominoff, Clint, Bruce, Steve, and of course myself.”  

Over the next couple hours I was given a thick stack of nondisclosure forms, another thick stack of pretty much everything that Tony and I had discussed before, a bunch of notes on dealing with Asgardians, more specifically wounded Loki, an in-depth description of my salary, paid time off, and work related perks. I was given a set of keys and taken down to what was called “Avenger’s floor” I walked to the end of the hall with one of Stark’s employees, she was a bubbly redhead who seemed super pumped to be here at all times. “Here is your home!” She opened the door and waited for me to enter before following me. “You have two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a full bathroom with the master bedroom, and a half bathroom in the hallway.” Alex, as she had liked to be called stood in the center of the large room. To my right the apartment dipped down slightly into what would easily be a modest living room, tall windows that made me feel a little light-headed reminded me of how high up I was. Although you really did get a killer view from up here, and there were massive grey curtains that I could pull over if I needed to. To my left was a large dining and kitchen area, it was also very open, it already had a dining table that could gracefully seat six people. Behind the table was a rather cozy kitchen, I didn’t need anything fancy, in fact this really was more than I was expecting. Alex let me take it all in before leading me down the hall, the first door on the right she opened and gestured for me to follow. “This is the guest bedroom but could easily be a study, or anything you want really.” The room wasn’t small, but not overly huge either. I didn’t expect to have many guests so a study would be really nice. Alex made her way out of the room and guided me to the next door, “and here we will have the master bedroom.” I stepped in behind her and looked around. This room had to be about half the size of my old apartment. It had a nice window that let in sunlight and fresh air without making me feel like I was going to fall to my death. I walked to the end of the room and opened a door to find a master closet, “Huh, don’t think I have enough clothes to come even close to fitting in here.” I laughed to myself but Alex tilted her head, “aren’t doctors supposed to be rich?” I really laughed this time, “yeah, but not starting out. I’m in debt up to my eyeballs. My last apartment was pretty much a cement box.” My preppy tour guide shrugged and opened the door to reveal my bathroom. A freaking Jacuzzi tub sat at the far end of the room under a beautifully arched window, gorgeous white curtains were tucked back. I took in the sight, a large walk in shower, a complicated looking toilet.. A Bedit?  And a marble sink blew me away.

Alex left me to explore the rest of the apartment on my own, there was really only the guest bathroom left anyway, and while it was a nice bathroom, it’s just a bathroom. Tony had given me a week to get myself moved and settled in, then it would be time to work. I was actually pretty proud of myself for convincing Tony to allow me to keep Koda, (it was less “convincing” and more me telling him that I am a package deal and Koda comes with me.) I had to show him every ribbon she’s earned, ever certificate and proof of vaccines. But he agreed and I was excited to bring Koda on this new adventure with me.

[dramaqueeenamby]

The Tulips Are Too Red

A/N: So, I have a favor to ask of you all. Sooooo many of you have shared such kind words with me, sending encouragement my way in regards to my writing. Many of you even believe that I could be published my day. That still gets to me. 

Anyway, here’s the thing, before I ventured into writing BP fics, I created a completely fictional story that I planned to post on Wattpad once I finished the other stories on there. Well, that never happened. I was working on chapters, getting up to three done but stopped as I was busy with other Wattpad fics. However, you guys have really got me thinking about my writing and just future in general.

So, I’m posting one of the chapters that I’ve written in the hopes that you guys will let me know your honest opinion of it. If it’s shitty, please say so. Constructive criticism will only make me better as a writer. 

Also, as I was rereading it, I realized that I could really turn this into a BP fanfic as well, a T’Challa x OC story once I finish up the rest of the fics that I’m juggling. 

Okay. I’ll shut up and allow you to read. I also won’t tag anyone because this is far from what you’re used to seeing from me.

----

It Is Winter Here

Chapter 1

It is Winter Here.

There are exactly twenty-four hours in a day. In minutes, that number grows to 1,440, and in seconds, it’s a whopping 86,400. Most people don’t think about stuff like that. Time. Unless they’re wondering how much they have left before they can clock off and go home to their adoring wife who’s been slaving over a stove all day. Or maybe their kids who’ve been home alone since they got out of school doing God knows what with God knows who. Other than those scenarios, and maybe a few more, like I said, hardly ever cross the mind.

But I’m not most people.

I tend to think about these things. I think about a lot of things actually. Like how long Craig plans to grow out his hair, or if Tammy will ever realize that that infomercial with claims of a one hundred percent success rate is based on a trial of exactly five participants, four of them, paid ‘volunteers’. I also notice a lot of things. Most of which, again, people are never privy to because of their supercilious concerns.

Like I said.

Not most people.

I watch her, not even attempting to hide my suspicious stare. She’s been sitting in the same spot for over an hour, a People magazine in hand and expensive shades over her eyes. To anyone else, she’s just another patron with plenty of time to spare. To me, she’s a hawk. No one reads the same magazine for an hour straight, especially one with a Kardashian on the cover.

“For someone who literally needs someone to wipe his ass, this guy is one hell of a di*k.” I look over at Candi who has been reading for roughly thirty minutes and is almost halfway through with the 400-page novel. “He sounds cute though. At least, the way she describes him makes him sound cute.”

“So you’d take him to the shop?” Zaria shifts in her seat, eyes staying on the photographic book in her lap. She’s had the same one for over an hour.

Candi giggles and lifts her left shoulder. “He could own the shop.” I roll my eyes and tap my nails against the mahogany wood armrest of my spacious chair. “Candi likes being on top anyway.”

“Candi likes all positions.” I chime, finally throwing in my two cents.

She sighs loudly and flips her blonde locks over a naturally tanned shoulder. “I’m a lover, Nova. You should try it sometime.”

“Oh I think you have enough to give for the three of us, Candi Cane.” I wink and return my eyes to the woman in question. I squeeze the solid chair, ignoring the pressure it puts on my weak nails. She still has that same damn magazine and has again started from the first page, looking over the front cover like she doesn’t already have the scandalous image and cliched caption memorized.

“Guys.” Zaria’s voice brings me back to reality as she pulls down the sleeves of her white shirt. There’s no need for her to do so, but it’s a habit of hers. “It’s time.”

Sure enough, Pat is only feet away from us, that stupid rehearsed smile on his droopy face.

“Already.” Candi pouts and puts her arms in front of her, hands in between her thighs, her busty chest on full display. “But I’m almost done.”

Pat offers a strained smile, chubby fingers going up to adjust his thick-rimmed glasses. “Why don’t you just buy the book, Candi?”

She tilts her head to the side and deepens her pout. “I already spent my allowance.”

“On?” When she smiles wickedly, his Adam's apple moves up and then down. “Candi.”

“Oh relax, Patty.” She giggles again and chews on her bottom lips, untangling her long legs and rising to her full height. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” She pulls out a southern accent and pulls a finger to her mouth, pretending to think. “Or is it woman?”

“I wanna buy mine,” Zaria informs, also standing up, looking like a lost child next to Candi’s lengthy frame. “Nova?”

I get up, taking Candi’s book and placing it on top of mine. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Zaria pulls her sleeves down again and tucks the book under her arm, walking in front of me, leaving poor Pat to deal with Candi while we complete this transaction.

On our way to the registers, I look back and see that the Hawk is walking out, stuffing the magazine in her black Hamilton bag.

She can’t be stealing. It’s a possibility, but judging by the tennis bracelet on her wrist and that rock on her ring finger, stealing seems rather out of character. No. The magazine is clearly hers. I wiggle my fingers and fix my jaw.

Who in the hell comes to a bookstore to read a magazine they already own?

Like I said, hawk.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

The car ride back is long, bumpy, and crowded. The van, overdue for some serious improvements or a junking, has a strong odor. It’s not vomit inducing, but its stench will leave you crinkling your nose when you first get a waft. In the second row, seatbelt stretched and clutching onto a protruding chest, Candi engages in conversation with the driver.

He’s new, probably a tempt, and after a car ride with Candi Wallace, this will be his last time filling in.

“It’s so beautiful.” Zaria murmurs to my left, her tiny fingers and raggedy nails trailing over a portrait of the grand canyon. “The view from the top must be breathtaking.”

I give the picture a few seconds of my time, for her sake. It is nice, but nature has never really stood out to me. Too many elements that I can’t control. “Maybe one day you can take your own picture. That one, I’d maybe even frame.”

Aside from a small smile, she says nothing.

The rest of the ride is filled with Candi’s musing and Pat’s occasional business calls. When we pull up, the driver and Pat flash ID’s; the guard peaks his head in the car to make sure that everything checks out.

After Candi flashes him a wink and places her index finger in her mouth, he gives her a one-over and lets us in.

“He wants me.” She mouths to us and then giggles, clapping her hands together and resuming her goal of bugging the driver. When we pull up to the entrance, she’s the first one out, blowing him a kiss and happily waving. “Call me.”

“Maybe,” I add on, smiling when she shoots me a glare. “I couldn’t help.”

“Jealousy really isn’t becoming of you, Nova.” She raises her chin and saunters through the automatic doors, switching her hips and uttering variations of hello to everyone she passes.

“You gotta admit.” Zaria starts, keeping her book clutched against her chest. “She’s fun to be around.”

I look over my shoulder to see Pat watching us closely. He’s so annoying.

I roll my eyes. “My lady, you and I have very different definitions of fun.” Swinging my arm around her shoulder is easy as we’re roughly the same height. I think I have an inch on her, maybe even less.

She laughs, and I crack a small smile. Those are becoming more prevalent by the day. It’s a stark contrast from our first meeting where she woke me up out of my sleep with screams and sobs that were only silenced by a heavy sedative.

We’ve come a long way.

“Ladies.” Pat interrupts. I suppress my eye roll.

As always, Candi is the first to volunteer. Smiling happily, she keeps her arms up wide and legs spread perfectly. “It’s new.” She informs happily when the man reaches her chest and pouts when he says nothing in reference to Candi’s new bra. When he’s done, Candi mouths ‘as*hat’ to us, and I put myself in front of the man before he gets a chance to call on Zaria.

With a bored face, I let him do his job, sending a glare when he keeps his hands on my as* for too long.

Creep.

When it comes to Zaria’s turn, I take her book from her, sending her a reassuring grin. She doesn’t return my gesture, but I’m okay with that. Her eyes say thanks. That’s enough for me.

Any sign of trust from Zaria is enough for me.

My glare stays on the jerk the entire time. I watch his every movement, waiting for him to try something with her. When he gets to her chest, I feel fingers move about, fighting the urge to ball my fist. I can literally see the discomfort on her part. She’s literally counting the seconds until he moves his hands anywhere else. I don’t know if he can tell that I’m willing to have my level 5 access revoked or if he senses the ardent apprehension radiating from her, but he keeps it short and professional. As soon as he’s done, she’s back by me, reaching for her book.

“Well, he was a meanie,” Candi comments as we wait for Pat to put the key in the panel right next to the elevator.

“Too touchy feely for my liking,” I reply loud enough so Pat can hear. He says nothing. Neither does Zaria. The rest of the elevator ride is in silence aside from Candi humming “Oops! I Did It Again.”

When we finally reach our floor, the three of us stand outside the elevator for our evaluation.

“Well, you ladies seemed to have done rather well today.” Pat smiles, the fat on his face parallel with the rolls that make up his neck. “If you’d like, we can try again next week.” I yawn, wishing that I could just walk away. I’d risk losing my clearance for Zaria or even Candi, but not myself.

Someone has to keep these two from extending their bid.

“Tomorrow the group outing is to the aquarium.” He smiles fondly like this is the best news we’ve heard all day. One glance to a somewhat excited Zaria makes me realize that for her, it probably is. “I think you all would have a fine time.”

“I wanna show off my new bra. I’m game.” Candi grabs her boobs, lifting them with a wink and a smile. “Nova?”

I can literally think of a million things that I’d rather do than spend a day at the aquarium, but one look at Zaria, and I know my decision has already been made for me.

“I guess a day with Happy Feet won’t be too bad.” What I want to say is it won’t kill me, but around here, there are just some words you want to try and avoid. Kill being one of them. It’s for good reason though.

Even I’m not too much of an as*hole to admit that.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

For dinner, we had chicken lasagna with mixed vegetables, garlic bread,  and apple pie for dessert. If it sounds magically delicious, you’re magically wrong.

The chicken was bland, the vegetables cold, and the garlic bread might have left me with some cracked teeth. The apple pie was decent, but nothing to brag about. I shouldn’t complain. Yesterday we had beef casserole.

Majority of my plate ended up in the trash.

“He was cute though, right?” Candi brushes through her hair, that dazed look in her eyes. That can only mean one thing. She’s already been given her nighttime dosage. “Of course he was. I only fu*k with the best.”

Zaria, fresh-faced, arms out and exposed in her short-sleeved shirt and blue Soffee shorts, offers a small laugh. “He must have been close to forty Candi.”

“And I thought you only liked ballers?” I wondered aloud from my position on Zaria’s bed. Next to me, she continues to admire the pictures in her book.

“Well, duh. I need a middleman to get to him.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, moving her shoulders from side to side, admiring her reflection. “I think my tits are getting bigger.”

“Your tits or your ego?”

She glares through the mirror and then pouts. “Boo, you whore.”

Zaria frowns. “You know I don’t like that word.”

“You don’t like anything, Zaria.” Candi rolls her eyes.

“Better than liking everything.” Zaria shoots back with a sly smile. I high five her, much to Candi’s chagrin. “If you catch my drift.”

“You guys are mean.” She stomps her feet and resumes brushing her hair.

When Zaria yawns, I realize her that her Clonezepam has already kicked in. Her lids are heavy, and she moves to put her book up.

“Uh oh. I think someone is sweepy.” She says in a baby voice and moves to pinch Zaria’s cheek, but Zaria swats her hand away. Candi laughs and sits on the bed, giving her a half hug. “Night, ladybug.” She kisses her cheek and brushes the top of her head.“You know I’m right down the hall if ya’ need me, sugar.”

“And I’m right next door,” I add on, lightly punching her on the arm. “Sleep tight, kid.”

“Thanks, guys.” She smiles gratefully, getting up at the same time we do so she can pull back the covers. She doesn’t even care that the horizontal lines on the inside of her thighs from not even two years ago are on full display. In the privacy of her room, even with Candi and I, Zaria is true to be herself.

We all are.

Candi yawns loudly with outstretched arms. “I’m wiped.”

“Doesn’t take much.” I chuckle, but hug her side. “Good night Candi Cane.”

She smiles brightly, her pearly whites distracting the small mole on the right side of her chin. “Night, babycakes.” I don’t even react as she squeezes my butt. I simply shake my head and walk over to my door.

I stop when I go to turn the handle, noticing the light peaking through the bottom of the door.

Smirking, I walk in and shut it behind me.

“Can I help you with something?”

He’s sitting on the green, faux leather chair in the corner of my room. I narrow my eyes, wishing that I could wipe that smug grin off his chiseled face. He leans forward, his green scrubs a contrast against his sun-kissed skin, the short sleeves clinging against solid muscle.

“I’m here for night check.”

I chuckle, purposely taking my time as I make my way over to him. “Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you Mr..,” I look over at the badge on his shirt. “Collins, but I have level 5 access. I don’t need a night check.” My body is jolted forward, my knees immediately separating so that I’m straddling him. “This is highly unprofessional and extremely inappropriate.” I moan as one hand goes to stroke my already hardened nipple and the other slips into my shorts.

He mimics my chuckle, satisfied when he feels the wetness already pooling from my core. “I’ve seen your records, Ms. Young.” He stands us up, his hand still in my shorts, teasingly running his finger up and down my folds. “Breaking rules is your specialty.”

I look down at him, his blue eyes holding nothing but pent up lust. Using my index finger, I run my finger down his cheek, parting his mouth and tugging on his bottom lip.

“Then what are you waiting for, Doctor?”

With a guttural growl, he throws me on the bed. I don’t think I need to tell you what happened next.

Two hours later, he’s long gone, and I’m out like a light.

Just another typical day at Lakeshore Mental Hospital.

[lostinthe-pines-blog]

Fate Doesn’t Write My Stories pt. 3 - Flashback

This is a multi-chapter story about MC, and Chris finding their way back together after years of being separated post graduation. Chris’s career takes him to Boston, a city he’d promised was her territory. But it’s not just Chris, fate has seemingly brought the entire Hartfeld crew back together.

NOTE: This is a fictional story based on Pixelberry’s Choices App. *Books The Freshman, The Sophomore, The Junior. I am not affiliated with Pixelberry nor do I own the rights to their original characters.

Tags: @jared2612

                                        FOUR YEARS EARLIER

Graduation had been a worry for everyone in the Hartfeld friend group. Where would everyone’s next steps leave them? Abbie and Tyler we’re set to move home to California to be closer to family on the West Coast. Both accepting dream jobs they were planning on spending the next few months making memories and saying goodbye to their college days. Becca already graduated, was headed West as well hoping to further her law career she’d been accepted to grad school in Seattle. Kaitlyn loved her friends but knew that this would be the end of some of her friendships as she packed to move to England the day after Graduation. Her music was getting much more response overseas and she needed to follow that dream. Zack was moving in with an old family friend in the heart of Manhattan come September. He’d always been a big city kid and he jumped on the opportunity to finally live in one. Zig of course would remain enrolled at Hartfeld not stressing much about his future plans yet he wanted to make the most of the time his friends had left around campus.

All these plans floating around the days after graduation seemed bittersweet now. Saying goodbye to Kaitlyn was hard on all of them but everyone eyes were on the parents of the group now. MC, and Chris. Chris had accepted a draft from the Eagles and would start training in a few short months. MC had nothing lined up yet, but it didn’t scare her. Chris was her future and she would go wherever he was.

The morning of Chris’s accident only a week after Graduation MC had slept in. It wasn’t uncommon for Chris to go on morning runs without her. She had felt him leave but thought nothing of it. Rolling over to the warm place where he’d just been she fell deeper into sleep. Hours later was was woken by the sound of a phone call coming through. She looked at the caller ID smiling she answered Chris’s phone call.

“Hey babe” her tone tired as she yawned.

“MC?” a formal voice responded, this wasn’t Chris she knew that much. Sitting up quickly running her hand through her hair she responded.

“This is she?”

“My name is Marie, I’m a nurse downtown at Regency Hospital. You are the emergency contact in this phone. Christopher Powell was in an accident this morning, we were hoping you could help us get more information.” MC sprang from her bed hearing these words, putting on the first clothes on that she could find.

“Yes, yes, what do you need? Is he okay?” MC asks panicked as she changed quickly. “I’ll be on my way there now!”

“We’ll see you shortly Miss, but for now do you happen to know Christopher's blood type?”

“B negative!” MC shouts not knowing how she knew such a random fact but thankful now that she did. “Please can you tell me what's wrong!” She asks now.

“Miss, Doctor Jones will speak to you in person when you arrive. I’ll see you soon.” MC and the nurse hang up simultaneously as she runs out to her car. On the short drive she calls and leaves a voicemail for Chris’s mother hoping there isn’t too much fear in her voice.

After arriving at the hospital she is greeted by Marie who she sees now is an older woman with a calming demeanor. Beside her is a doctor tall, balding, and an actual description of the word ‘wise’, they welcome her into the lobby where she instantly starts questioning.

“Where is he?! What Happened?” MC asks letting her emotions get the best of her

“I’m Doctor Jones, I’ll be treating your husband”

“Boyfriend” MC corrects him with an unintentional sharp tone.

“Boyfriend.” he pauses “Christopher was involved in a hit and run accident. A witness called it in and you should know the the police will be here soon for questioning.” Doctor Jones explains “He’s sustained major injuries to his left leg which we’ve begun treating, as well as a lot of internal bleeding. He’ll need to stay to be watched for tonight and maybe even past that. But he is awake and responsive if you’d like to see him.”

“Yes!” MC yells not a moment after the Doctor finishes speaking. He leads her down the hall to a curtained off bed where a nurse sits wrapping his leg.

Chris turns to her and he smiles through his pain grabbing her hands quickly. “Babe” he says weakly “I’m sorry”

“Sorry! This isn’t your fault!” she responds “We’ll find whoever did this to you I promise!”

Chris stares into her eyes silently and the edge of his lips turning up slightly. This would be the last time MC really truly saw his smile.

The hours pass and more of his injuries are revealed. His left thigh bone was shattered upon impact and while it took most of the blow his hip needed to be forced painfully back into place. One fractured rib and severe bruising down his abdomen, with the speed of the vehicle the Doctors said it was a miracle this was all he sustained. Doctor Jones is certain that he’ll make a full recovery but that his leg will experience a certain degree of pain or numbness for the rest of his life. This injury is not something that could be played on ever again.

Chris is aware now that he’ll have to deny the offer from the Eagles causing his plans for his life to fade in front of him.

The first two weeks following the accident were the easy part. A victory when the cops caught the driver, a day drunk asshole looking to get somewhere far to quick. Getting Chris home, reminding him he’s loved and strong. Assisting him in any possible way. MC was there the entire time to celebrate or to cry with him. She could see light fading from his beautiful blue eyes. As the months passed she noticed him finishing prescription bottles of pain medications far earlier than he should have; and the kitchen counter collecting empty bottles of various alcohols. Her Chris was dying, maybe not physically, but mentally. He was a shell of the man he was before, but she still tried her hardest to love him.

Early August almost 3 months since the accident his casts had been removed but his pain still lingered. Coming home from the second waitressing job she’d picked up to cover Chris’s half of their rent she noticed his eyes no longer a crystal blue but a dark almost black color now. She knelt in front of him on the ground holding his hands in hers.

“Christopher, look at me.” she commanded trying to keep her tone light. “You have got to snap out of this now.”

Chris’s eyes were completely glazed over and she knew he wasn’t sober, no signs of drinking around she noticed the last bottle of his medication that was recently filled completely gone. She couldn’t wrap her head around how quickly he’d turned into a mess of a human. But she still loved him and she missed his laughter, she’d have given anything to hear it again.

“I can’t” Chris spit his eyes meeting hers now with guilt and water at the edge of his lashes. “I’m disappointing you, I’ve disappointed myself, my family. I don’t even know where to go from here but i know this…” Chris paused for what felt like hours “Wherever I go, it won’t be with you.” He yanks his hands from hers and stands carefully walking toward the door. MC runs and stop in front of him blocking him from the door.

“Why!” she yelled now, no tone of sweetness or understanding left. She’d wasted all of her kindness on him over the past few months. “Why won’t you be with me. Have I not proven myself to you!”

Chris looked to the ground matching her anger “No, I have not proven myself to you. I am not good for you anymore. You deserve to be happy and I won’t be that for you. So go! Get out!” He looks to her now and she feels a fear she’s never felt around him. Turning out the door quickly she runs the mile to her best friends apartment.

The next week she spent with Zack, avoiding her apartment at all costs. The tension between Chris and MC had started to spread through their friend group as everyone began to leave the small town they’d all met in. Tyler supporting Chris understanding where he’s coming from and thinking that maybe it was just time for Chris and MC to drift apart. That fate had come for them as it had tried so many times for his own relationship. Zack accused Tyler of being jealous of Chris and MC’s strong bond in a moment of anger leading to the inevitable end of Tyler and Zack’s friendship. Tyler and Abbie didn’t even say goodbye to MC or Zack before they moved. Keeping contact with only Chris and Kaitlyn now they retreated to California to start over.

Becca had visited both parties; bringing Chris dinners and trying to listen to him, and MC taking her shopping and attempting to bridge the gap between the two lovers. Eventually it was time for Becca to head west too and the pair of friends got together one final time.

“Look, MC I know this might be over stepping, but maybe it’s time to think about you. You were so willing to put your goals on hold for his football dreams. But as horrible as it all is maybe this has been your blessing in disguise. You know you are meant for more, so take it. My cousin in Boston needs a roommate for the renewal of her lease. You should go!” Becca explains pleading her friend to not let life chew her up at such a young age.

“And what, leave him behind?” MC questions her eyes filling with tears so often now that she doesn’t believe they’ll ever dry again. “It’s been three months, I can’t just give up on 3 and a half years after only 3 months.”

“You can if it’s truly hurting you” Becca corrects her, and MC knows she right.  

Returning home MC opens the apartment door for the first time in days finding Chris is almost the same state as before except this time the blue of his eyes has returned. He’s sober now. But she doesn't know if that’s truly a good or bad thing.

“Hi.” she says softly, fearfully.

“Hey.” Chris responds his love for her had been clouded by jealousy. Jealousy that she could still accomplish her dreams and he was stuck with out his. His head throbbed and his body craved medication his Doctors would no longer prescribe. “I’m going to Maine.” he announces flatly

“Oh.” MC responds “When?” She questions. She’s not sure if she’s been invited.

“I’m moving back home at the end of the month.” Chris cannot bring himself to look her in the eye. He knows he’ll be sucked back in. He’s convinced himself that leaving her is what is best for her and for him. That somehow she’ll be able to soar with out him.

“End of the month?” MC questions looking to the calendar on the wall “It’s the 17th of August…” her voice trails filling with anger now “When were you going to tell me?”

“When were you going to come home?” he retorts and she knows she’s met her match.

“When were you going to stop downing you prescription medications? Or do you want to end up lost and alone like your father.” she knows she’s cut to deep but she doesn’t care. “You’re abandoning me, you’re abandoning us. Like father like son.”

“Stop pretending you know about my future, you’re the only one of us who couldn’t land a job after graduation.” His anger fills him now, he takes a moment to calm down. It’s clear their relationship is over. As Tyler had put it, ‘Fate had come for them.’ and it didn’t leave them with a happy ending. He remains silent until finally speaking again. “Will you be staying here? The leasing office will need to know if we are leaving the apartment vacant.”

Baffled by his words she glares in his direction. He cared more about the paperwork surrounding their apartment than he did about her. “No. I’m moving to Boston.” she hadn’t actually decided if she was going but her emotions got the best of her now.

“Boston?” he questioned “What’s in Boston?”

“Not you.” her words tearing through him.

“Go to Boston. I have no need for that City or the people in it. It’s yours.” he offers giving her the city childishly like it’s his property.

“Then I expect never to see you in it.” MC turns on her heel heading right back out the door she’d just entered.

Zack and her spent the following days packing her things maneuvering around quickly during the short hours that Chris was actually out of the house. Any time Chris and MC crossed paths fights would start and it was better just to avoid it at all. As the final days of August approached leaving became harder and harder for MC.

The late summer breeze was warm almost begging her to stay as she carried the last box of her things out of the apartment she’d shared with the man who once loved her as she still loved him. As she opened her car door she saw Zig pull up with Chris in the passenger seat. Chris got out quickly walking with a limp toward the apartment door. He was experiencing the chronic effects of the accident now and she wouldn’t be able to help him. His eyes heavy with pain,  dark stubble appearing around his jaw and the stench of alcohol potent even from across the driveway. Even now she was hoping he would beg for forgiveness and plead for her to take him back, to come to Maine with him and help him through his darkest hour. She was disappointed again watching instead as he hobbled up to the door ignoring her presence,  Zig pulling away.

“That's everything.” she called to him, “I left the key inside on the counter and signed the paperwork” her voice weak as if she were going to cry. But the truth was, she couldn’t cry anymore. She’d spent weeks doing just that, she was finally and unbelievably dried out. “Chris, I love you” she says desperately “I always have and always will. I hope one day happiness can return to your blue eyes.” she allows one last moment for him to change their fate but he stares silently at her. She nods and ducks her head into her car driving away.