#just trying to scrape together enough money to go to the movies

[dryadgurrl]

Hi y'all To comemorate this first week of autumn (despite the fact that it's still 90+ degrees where I am) all tarot reads in my shop will come with a FREE Oracle card draw on top - no need to add it manually, no code needed, I'll just throw it in there.

Also applies to dice throws!

So it'll be the standard three-card throw (or however many dice land in the read) PLUS the Oracle card to tie it together.

This offer runs through Sunday 9/29

(Also consider grabbing a book blind date from the main shop, tis the season for settling in with a nice read!)

[lollytea]

((Part One of my Showbiz AU exposition posts!! Sorry my demons took over. I have more to say but this was already getting too long so I have to chop it up. The actual meat of the AU coming tomorrow.))

Willow Park was discovered in a supermarket when she was two years old while happily swinging her chubby legs back and forth in a shopping cart baby seat, teething on a rainbow coloured set of plastic keys. Her parents were offered the opportunity to get her into commercial modeling for a fat check.

Maybe if the circumstances had been different, Gilbert and Harvey would have rejected the offer on the spot. However, things were not going financially well in the Park household. Harvey had recently been let go from his job and Gilbert was already disowned by his parents, so they didn't have their support to fall back on. And they were scared. They were scared of what would become of Willow if they couldn't afford to take care of her.

The rules they applied to this whole venture were simple. The second it appeared that this lifestyle was taking a negative effect on Willow, they pull her out of it immediately and try something else.

So Willow became a baby model. And the overlap between model and actor was thin enough that she quickly stumbled into the latter. Mainly commercials and movie/TV roles with anywhere from one to a handful of lines. But it paid well and even though she was little, she seemed to enjoy it. She had a captivating stage presence. She was silly and clumsy but directors and audiences found that charming.

When Willow was four, she began repeatedly bumping into another little girl at auditions and they drew little crayon doodles together on the edges of their scripts while they waited their turn. Soon enough, Willow Park and Amity Blight were best friends and lit up every time they saw each other in those high ceiling audition rooms with the weird squeaky floors.

But when Willow was six, going on seven, she did an awful lot of growing. And that changed everything.

Amity had always booked more roles than Willow, but that had never bothered her because she had never known any different. And besides, Willow had always gotten SOMETHING at least.

Willow enjoyed acting and her Dads made sure to never make her aware that they relied on her income for fear of putting that huge responsibility on her shoulders. To her, it wasn't a job, just a fun thing she did.

But once she reached a certain age, it became difficult to book any roles at all. Nothing. Nobody wanted her.

Amity, by comparison, seemed to be getting every role personally handed to her. And this was the point where she abruptly severed ties with her best friend, utterly shattering Willow into a million pieces.

Nobody wanted her. Not even her best friend wanted her. Willow didn't know what had changed so suddenly but it burned under her skin. There was something inherently wrong with her. Nobody wanted her.

Harvey and Gilbert quickly noticed the damage that acting had done to their daughter's self esteem so they quickly drew further away from the spotlight before things got any worse.

Willow did not retire from acting completely. There was still maybe one or two background roles a year. Usually no lines. Just to keep them financially afloat. By this point, both Harvey and Gilbert had found ways to bring home money. It wasn't a lot and they were still scraping by but ultimately, Willow's childhood, education and future were to be prioritized so sacrifices had to be made.

They hoped to retain some sense of normalcy to Willow's life. So, after a year and a half of Harvey's home schooling, Willow was enrolled in public school, where she remained from the ages of 7 to 13.

This was supposed to make things better. And in a way, it did. Or at least it gave Willow the necessary experience to navigate the real world and help her develop into a relatively gentle, wise and down to earth soul. But it was also absolute Hell.

Harvey had always presumed that his daughter was a late bloomer and never thought much of it when she was still reading at a kindergarten level at age 7, but it presented itself as a complete abomination of a problem once she was thrown into the public school system.

Willow was dyslexic. This severely hindered her academic performance, as well as severely hindering her classmates' ability to leave her the fuck alone.

Willow doesn't like to talk about the period of her life where she attended public school. Except maybe in therapy. Or to Hunter at 3:34AM after he's told her something debatably more fucked up about his own childhood. But this was the only point in her life where she felt completely and utterly alone in this world.

She had her Dads, she'd always have her Dads. But she kept the brunt of her misery to herself because she knew that they would make her problems their problems and they were struggling enough as it was.

It was for her. Everything they did was for her. She eavesdropped on the heated debates they had late at night (They should've been asleep too. They had work in the morning) over what the next move was.

They were both painfully aware that Willow's full time acting career brought in the most money but if she didn't want to be in show business anymore, they needed to do whatever it took to make sure she could stay in school and her future was bright. College, university, whatever she wanted. (Harvey had tirelessly studied the best career opportunities and not-so-sutbly attempted to get her on board.)

Truth be told, Willow didn't know what she wanted. All she knew for sure was that she couldn't stay in public school a moment longer. She didn't know how to feel about acting these days. It was a mixed bag. But it was definitely preferable to the torture chamber of a middle school girls bathroom.

When Willow was thirteen, she reactivated her acting career, and she did it with a smile on her face. She hoped that her parents could maybe sleep soundly for the first time in six years.

She got lucky. Miraculously lucky. She wasn't sure if she believed in God after the last six years but SOMEBODY out there was looking out for her. Because near immediately, they found a casting call that read: "Age 12-14. Female. Plus size. Non-White." A casting call that Willow had never seen in all her years in show business, (at least not the ones her Dads approved of) let alone for a gig in one of the most popular tweenage networks on television. And this was no background position either, but a lead role.

If Willow could book this, her family would be set.

So, she read for the role. Well, she memorized the script after staying up till 2am with Gilbert. And she put her acting experience to use by pretending to read a script.

And that was how Willow booked the role of Paulina on television's upcoming tween phenomenon 'Hexside', a series about wacky shenanigans in a witches high school.

She was quick to learn that while she would have a significant presence on the show, she was not the leading lady, but rather, the ditzy quirky best friend.

The actual protagonist and Willow's co-star who she'll be spending the next several months with? (and possibly years if season 1 is a success)

Amity Blight.

[teecupangel]

I'm watching a show where someone offhandedly mentioned they're a nightclub bartender

"That's the way you do it, you make $1000 in two days and you have the rest of the week [to pursue her dream job]."

So now I'm just thinking about

obviously when Desmond first started at Bad Weather he wasn't on the best nights. He was new and didn't know what he was doing. He got the shit shifts, the slow days. He didn't mind. It gave him time to figure it all out--the job, yeah, but also what the attitude of the place was, what people expected from a bartender, a coworker, an employee. He doesn't have a lifetime of norms, he has to figure it out every new place he ends up.

And he does. He figures out what people want, what they expect, and gives it to them. He knows how to read people, how to avoid drawing negative attention.

It helps that he's not bad to look at, too.

So he gets moved to the good shifts, to the busy nights with thumping music and drunk party girls asking if he has a place nearby. And he's in New York, and New York is *expensive*, but also--

"You want another shift?" The manager looks him up and down, a twist to his lips, and Desmond knows he's done something wrong. "If you've got 'em," he says, an easy smile, a careless shrug. "I'm trying to scrape together enough for deposit, get a place that's not halfway to New Jersey, y'know?"

It passes scrutiny, and buys him the time to figure out another set of expectations: people don't like working.

That should've been obvious, maybe. People were always complaining, saying how they didn't want to be there or wanted to go home. Desmond just....hadn't figured that was really an option. Not being an Assassin had never been, until he ran away. And then it was such a struggle to get a job, to feed himself and find somewhere to stay, that he just hadn't thought about it.

But apparently, people don't spend all their time working. He could. He could ask for as many shifts as they'll give him, but that'll get him negative attention and distance from his coworkers. So he gets himself some savings and then he....doesn't work as much. Enough that his manager likes him. Full shifts Friday and Saturday, a half shift Sunday, and there early on Tuesdays for delivery. That only takes a couple hours but he gets paid a half shift for it since no one wants to be there mornings.

And then he has the rest of the week to himself. No training, no evaluations, no missions--and no working. What's he supposed to do with all that time?

Maybe he should learn to play guitar.

Yeeessss. This is so good.

Maybe he tries to learn to play the guitar. Go to a pawnshop or a second-hand store, buy a cheap guitar, and try to learn using second-hand books that teach guitar and music in general.

From there, he starts trying out new things, just trying to find some kind of hobby or something that would keep him busy. The guitar was nice and it was relaxing but it sometimes gets boring so he branches out.

Tries different instruments.

Even bought a cheap mp3 player to play the cheap absolutely not legal CDs he buys from a dude that sells CDs and DVDs of varying ‘quality’.

He could buy brand new items, of course. It’s not like he was spending all the money he gets from his job anyway but he knew that saving up was the normal thing to do. That splurging should only be reserved for what he’s passionate about.

And that’s what he’s trying to find.

Something to be passionate about.

Something… anything… that would not bore him at all.

That would make him feel ‘normal’.

Music, books, movies…

They were nice. They can be relaxing.

But, sometimes, Desmond just gets so bored.

So he tries other things.

Taking walks which turn into people-watching whenever he knows he should take a rest.

He uses what he sees as basis on what he should try out next.

Jogging.

Knitting.

Cooking.

Staring mindlessly at a blank document in front of his secondhand laptop that he mainly used to watch those cheap DVDs (and it took an hour and a waitress asking “Writer’s block?” for Desmond to get what he was trying out, then a few minutes of spent being embarrassed at staring at nothing)

Hell, he tried writing a diary but that just made him remember his father’s warnings. To be a ghost, to leave no trace. He ripped and burned the pages he had already written and threw away the diary the next day.

When he told Lucy that motorcycles were a guilty pleasure of his, he wasn’t exactly lying.

His guilty pleasure had been trying out new things.

Trying to find something that he thinks he would like to keep doing again and again.

Motorcycle driving was simply the next thing on his list.

In the end…

He never did find it…

Something to be passionate about.

[sidewayspeace444]

Sooo…..

I’m not sure how to word this and hopefully it’s not long, but I’ll begin by saying, Chris Evans’ fandom just needs to ignore EVERYTHING from his side, that includes his friends, family, the “wife” and her friends, etc.

I do believe there may be more than meets the eye with this mess behind the scenes, but I also recognize that as much as this entire “shitshow” as its now been deemed, seems phony and fake…. At this point, let’s just say it’s what it is. Chris is a married man and he married a woman that I don’t believe he truly knows, but that’s on him. 🤷🏻‍♀️

See, looking back at everything, even if this started as PR, which I’m partial to believe…..Chris still sat his ass on stage last week and said he…. Married a woman from Portugal. 😂

But, I remember his likes on IG years ago, he liked and followed some big booty fitness influencer and no, not that Sara chick. I think he and 🐟 might’ve had a PR thing that started professionally and then he liked whatever, but when it was time to “debut” this mess….. his dumbass never expected the backlash. If this has always been real or pr turned real or just pr, etc he never expected fans to deep dive into the problematic woman who keeps trolling his fandom? See, people stated her IG cleaned up of over 100 posts so he or someone knew enough. He is not permanently attached to racist scum.

Look Chris is a very privileged white male, like….DUH!

But look how he talks about project roles, so many deserving actors and actresses are out here scraping for decent roles and then there’s Chris….Mr. “I turn down lead roles”, “I only want to make one movie a year”, “I don’t understand my privilege so I take advantage of it”.

Chris has been in a Marvel/Disney protection bubble for over a decade. It prevented him from growing as an actor and person. He had people at the ready to clean his mess and wipe his ass. He’s no longer in that bubble and ironically you can go back and see how he’s been cascading down ever since. He started decent with Knives Out and Defending Jacob, but then the pandemic happened and he like many…. Lost their minds and sanity.

First it was Lily James PR mess and then I guess money was decent that he chose to do another stunt and it’s led to all of this. Chris wants to seem like he’s smarter than he comes off, but I do believe he’s the type to go…. You like Eckart Tolle?!…..omg me too, yep we’re destined to be together. Boston has a huge population from PT, and racist history so 🐟 should enjoy her time there. 🙄

Anyway Chris has ALWAYS had problematic individuals in his circle both personally and professionally, again….privileged white man who loves to act holier than thou. He did some basic ass tweets during trump era and people started stanning him because everyone hated trump and Chris was basically the conduit of their thoughts.

He pandered to black women, even reprimanded one during an interview, after again…pandering …pretending to flirt over her white boots, knowing he’s being recorded …..then got pissy with her…all because she used the word “brand”. But look at his “brand” now. 😒

This man left social media because he couldn’t withstand the pressure of people not kissing his ass and his choice in life partner. He keeps saying the internet is bad, no sweetie, the internet isn’t the problem it’s YOU!

Ugh, I’m done, mainly because I too wanted this to turn out to be 100% PR, he acted like he didn’t like her publicly only to put a ring on it, yet that could have been to have people wondering and staying engaged with this mess.

I think she’ll be his karma for however long they last.

There is 0.1% in me that would LOVE for this mess to be revealed as shitty PR, fake marriage and all, but I’m tired of trying to force feed things. Chris has a ring… fake or not, it would be stupid to acknowledge himself as married only to come back with….. I’m not married, still single.

So for those believing this is PR, I stand with you, but I’m tired of holding out hope that he was ever truly decent. Decent people don’t have multiple problematic friends and coworkers, Emily Blunt is a fat shamed too, her and Justin should get along very well. Decent people don’t take their career and fans for granted EVER!

This IS who Chris Evans is and it’s time everyone drops the projection and fantasy. If I’m wrong…… I’d like to see Chris himself prove me wrong, but that’s not going to happen…..is it?

This fandom use to be a source of fun and relief from personal shit, but now it’s aided in more gaslighting and emotional hurt about a guy I never knew.

You all have been so cool and I wish Chris turned out to be the man we all thought he actually was, but his own actions have proven, he’s not.

Everyone take care! ✌️

Let’s stop defending this man like we are getting paid. Let’s drag him! He wants to blame everyone but himself for his flop era

[k-evans-reads]

Merry Christmas, Sammy.

An On Deck Extension

Summary: Two weeks after their elopement in Mexico, Sam and Chris spend their first Christmas together.

Pairing: MLB!Chris Evans X OFC Samantha “Sam” Merrick

Word Count: 2,147

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | On Deck Masterlist

December 24th, 2022

Chris frowned as he watched Sammy rifle through a drawer, pulling out a tablespoon and dipping it into the salt in front of her, carefully measuring the ingredient. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” He asked her, eyes moving between the old, worn recipe of Lisa’s in front of them and back to his wife. 

But Sam just rolled her eyes, avoiding his gaze as she dumped the portioned salt into the mixing bowl in front of her. “Yeah, I’m following the recipe so obviously I do,” she told him, her engagement ring and wedding band catching the beams of light from the sunset outside. His eyes were drawn to the rings on her finger, and Chris knew he’d never get over the sight of them on her, knowing he was the one to put them there. It’d only been two weeks since their wedding, but the butterflies remained every time he was reminded of the fact that he was her husband and she was his wife, that this was forever. 

“Obviously you don’t,” he murmured, leaning his hip against the marble counter as he pointed to the tablespoon and then to the recipe for the cookies. “This is a tablespoon, not a teaspoon.”

Sam paused mid-reach for the container of flour, face suddenly worried as she turned to him and asked, “What’s the difference?” 

He couldn’t help but laugh, shocked – but also not surprised – that she didn’t know the difference. It definitely wasn’t something Sam had experienced in her childhood, too busy raising Riley or trying to even find enough money to scrape together to have dinner that night, in the same way Chris had. He’d grown up surrounded by the normal Christmas shit – a big dinner with family, opening gifts every year, making cookies with his mom, but this was the first year he was doing it on his own, and he was excited to start traditions together. “Sammy, are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He finally asked her, shaking his head. 

“What?”

He pushed her hands away as she moved to continue making them, informing her, “You’re going to ruin the cookies!”

“I’m not ruining them! I’m doing what the instructions say!” She tried to insist, trying to dodge his hands as he continued interfering with her. 

Chris placed his hands on her hips, gently moving her as he told her, “Okay move over. I’m taking this over and you go get my pan ready.” 

He watched as she simply stuck her tongue out at him and he returned her sentiment before Sam grabbed out the cookie sheet and brought it over for him. It was almost comical to him that exactly one year ago he had been sulking at his mother’s house, his knees covered in scars and in pain as he grieved his career and loss of identity. 

If anyone would have told him that only one year later, he’d be standing in the kitchen of a home he owned, a ring on his finger, and Sammy Merrick running her hand along his back as she stepped around, he could have never believed it. His wildest dream that he didn’t even know he had buried deep inside of him had come true and there wasn’t a moment that went by that he wasn’t thankful to his core for every bit of it. 

He restarted the recipe, making sure to use the correct measurements this time, and before long they were carefully scooping the dough onto the baking sheets and sliding them into the oven in perfect unison. It was the perfect ending to an already great day – they’d spent most of the afternoon and early evening at Lisa’s house with Riley, his siblings, their partners, and their nephews, then had come back here to make one last batch of cookies before tomorrow’s festivities and to watch a movie together. 

It wasn’t long before Chris heard footsteps and the clacking of Dodger’s nails against the wooden floors, and he turned from his spot at the sink to see Riley hovering in the archway with a grin on his face. “Do I smell cookies?” The teenager asked, eyes locked on the bowl of leftover scraps of the cookie dough. “Wait… did Sam make them?” 

Chris laughed loudly, unable to help himself despite Sam’s eye roll. “No, I did,” he told the teenager. 

Riley snickered, shrugging at Sam’s look, and headed further into the kitchen. Grabbing a spoon on his way, he stopped in front of the bowl. “Oh okay, well then I want some,” he told them, helping himself to the dough. 

Sam crouched down, petting Dodger as the dog lapped up the attention from her. “Neither of you can even be nice to me on Christmas Eve,” she muttered with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Baby, you know I love you,” Chris began wistfully, shutting the water off and drying his hands with the towel before he met her eyes with a smirk. “But we both know you can’t cook or bake.” 

“I was trying!” 

Chris nodded, his hand reaching to hold hers as she rose to her full height. “And I love you for it, but I still don’t want to eat your salt cookies over there,” he chuckled. 

“Just for that I’m taking every present under that tree back.” 

“As long as I get you, that’s the only present I need,” he couldn’t help but say, waggling his eyebrows as Sam and Riley groaned. 

“Are you serious? That was so corny,” Riley muttered, scowling when Chris glanced over at him. Chris couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Riley polish off the last of the cookie dough, crossing the short distance to the sink to put the dirty dishes there for later. 

“It’s Christmas, I’m allowed to be corny,” Chris shot back, sliding his arm around Sam’s waist as she leaned against his side with a sigh.  “I think while we’re waiting for those cookies we should open a present.” 

She turned to him, her brows furrowed as she pointed out, “But it’s not Christmas yet…” 

“We always got to open one on Christmas Eve, so I think that tradition should continue,” Chris explained with a small grin, nodding his head towards the living room through the hallway off the kitchen, where the tree was waiting near the stairs up to Riley’s room. “C’mon, go pick one.” 

He could see the way Sam was hesitating, all of this being so unfamiliar to her. She had told Chris earlier in the week when she saw all the presents under the tree that the only time she’d seen something like that was in a movie, and although the statement had broken his heart, Chris also was so happy that he finally got to give her the type of holiday and life she didn’t even dare to dream of. 

Riley asked if he was serious but when Chris nodded his head, the teenager started off down the hallway. Chris kept his arm around her waist, holding her tight up against him as they went down the hall and into the living room where the big Christmas tree was shining bright and filled with presents underneath it. He knew this was something brand new for both Riley and Sam and seeing the sparkle in their eyes was something he knew he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. 

“Pick whatever one you want,” he told them quietly, eyes drawn to the beautiful multicolored lights on the tree. 

Sam pursed her lips, quiet as she kept staring at the pile of gifts while Riley picked a box randomly, holding it in his hands awkwardly. “You have to pick one too then, Chris,” she told him. 

“Okay, how about that one? Will you grab it for me, baby?” He asked, pointing to one with his name on it in Sam’s handwriting, watching as she picked it up for him and another for herself – the smallest one she could’ve.  

Chris plopped down on the overstuffed sectional, resting an arm across the top of the cushion as he got comfortable, across from Riley, and waited until Sam came back over and curled up to his side until he dropped his arm around her shoulders. He could see how unused to this they were but Chris pushed Riley first, saying, “Open it, Riley.” 

He carefully pulled at the bow, taking it off before peeling up the tape and ripping the paper off the box. His eyes instantly grew wide as he exclaimed, “Airpods?” 

“Well you can’t take those headphones you have to college with the frayed wire, you’re going to electrocute yourself or something,” Chris laughed, watching as Riley’s eyes stayed wide and he couldn’t help but get more excited for the morning, when Riley would find a new phone and laptop under the tree as well. 

And Chris knew just how easy it had been shopping for both Riley and Sam, just replacing so many things they had still that were so worn out. It wasn’t easy for the Merrick siblings to accept anything new or fancy, let alone ask for it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t break his heart when Riley had only asked for a new pair of jeans due to a hole wearing in his and Sam couldn’t even come up with anything, insisting to Chris that she already had so much and couldn’t possibly think of anything she needed. 

But that was the key… needed. He had tried to tell her over and over again that a gift wasn’t something you needed, instead something you wanted, but her lifetime of going either without any birthday or Christmas gifts, or possibly a book from Goodwill or a pair of shoes she needed anyway, that concept just didn’t make any sense to her and left her shrugging every single time he had asked if there was anything she might want for Christmas. 

He knew that he had gone overboard and that Sam would most likely be unhappy if she knew how much everything cost, but this was their first Christmas together and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make this Christmas special for his wife and for Riley. Sam nudged Chris in the hip with her elbow, gesturing for him to go. He tore the wrapping paper open, smiling at Sam already as she watched him carefully.

He opened the box, smiling at the sight of the white high top Nike sneakers that mirrored the style of the ones he was so partial to during his growing up years. They were something he saw nearly every day in pictures from his childhood with a younger, grinning Sam next to him, the very ones that hung on nearly every wall of their home. 

“No fuckin’ way!” He laughed, holding a shoe in his hand as his eyes raced to meet Sam’s. “Sammy, I can’t believe you got these!” 

She blushed, shrugging and telling him, “Well you wore them enough when we were kids, I couldn’t really forget them.” 

“Baby, I love them. Thank you,” he murmured, leaning in to peck her lips, lingering as her hand held his cheek in place. They pulled back, sharing a smile, and Chris nudged her with his shoulder. “Okay, now it’s your turn.” 

And as Sam took a deep breath and began to gently tear the beautiful wrapping paper, Chris’ eyes were locked on her, his body tensing slightly in anticipation. She opened the gift and the box, brows furrowing when all she found were two pages of printed paper. She picked them up, a curious look in her eyes as she read the pages – one full of flight information, the other a hotel confirmation. 

“W-What is this?” She asked without tearing her eyes away from the page, likely lingering on the language difference. 

“Our tickets to Paris,” he murmured, unable to stop the grin from sliding onto his face. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m taking you to Paris,” he smiled, biting his lip for a moment as his hand landed on her thigh, thumb moving back and forth over the denim covering her skin. “I scheduled it for before spring semester starts, and Ma said she can stay here to keep an eye on Riley."

She struggled to find the words, and Chris couldn’t help but laugh a little. The oven timer beeped in the kitchen, and he was thankful when Riley hopped up, Dodger following him into the kitchen to take the cookies out. 

Sam hugged Chris tightly, tears soaking his shirt while he kissed her cheek. He knew that she was feeling so much in that moment and just didn’t know how to put it into words, but she didn’t need to. He just held her tightly, turning his head to kiss the edge of her forehead as he whispered, “Merry Christmas, Sammy.” 

A/N: We missed these two so so much! We have plans for a couple extensions already, but if there's anything you absolutely want to see, let us know and we'll take note!

[watchmorecinema]

The Exorcist is a brilliant, brilliant piece of horror, but it only works because it's a brilliant drama first. The Exorcism, which the entire marketing and title is based around, doesn't happen until 90 minutes into a 122 minute movie. Instead William Friedkin takes his time setting up the story and characters.

Chris and her daughter Regan get significant screentime dedicated to their relationship. Regan is a bit precocious, asking if her mother is attracted t the director of the film she's appearing in. Chris screams over the phone, attempting to get her ex-husband to just say happy birthday to Regan, while she secretly overhears the entire thing. When the possession begins it's very credibly treated as just some strange illness. Chris rushes Regan to doctors, psychiatrists and specialists of every type before even considering going to the church for help.

Meanwhile Father Damien Karras is a priest dealing with a crisis of faith. He's not sure of his own purpose within the church. His mother lives in a shabby apartment a squalid part of LA. Part of him wishes that he didn't ever have any moral convictions; if he never went into the seminary he could have had enough money to treat his mother to a much better life and find fulfillment in some other way. But he feels trapped; the psychology skills he has were paid for and supported by the church, and he isn't quite ready to turn his back on them. He still does his duties, but in a detached matter of fact way. He tells a police officer that he would never turn a murderer in if they talked to him during confession, but it's not out of any particular religious or spiritual conviction. It's simply part of the job, same as how a janitor feels about scraping gum from under kid's desks.

When these stories come together it's not exciting, but a slow rising of tension. Karras doubts that Regan is possessed, but he begins to notice little inconsistencies with her story. He thinks that exorcisms are just superstition, but decides to maybe believe in his faith a little bit and consider that a demon is really there, in front of him.

The exorcism doesn't begin until Father Merrin, an experienced exorcist, arrives and at this point we see things shift rapidly. Merrin begins to mentor Karras and help bring back the faith, belief and conviction he used to have. Chris finally feels that someone is listening to her and believes her pleas.

The exorcism itself is a messy, chaotic affair. The priests are barely able to hold against the evil before them, and the demon inside Regan is doing everything it can to terrify and demoralize the priests. 50 years on the special effects and editing are still truly frightening, but even now the story isn't really about the demon. It's still about the priest trying to find his faith again, and a woman doing everything she possibly can for her daughter. Both characters are looking for redemption for what they consider to be their personal failings, and Regan's possession is simply a means to do so.

Even if horror just isn't your thing please seek this film out. This movie is just too damn good to be kept at arm's length.

[wirewitchviolet]

I hate this, but it's kinda telethon time.

We are closing in on the end of the month, which means it's going to be the first of a new month, which means that A- I must write a check to my landlord for $1100, and B- That patreon page I keep forgetting to link at the end of posts is going to lock in donations for the month... and then probably take a week or two to forward me the money. For quite some time now, the amount I'm getting out of Patreon has been significantly less than that magic $1100, and that's not even the total amount of money I need to have every month to continue to be alive. There's also food and electricity and a frankly unreasonable ISP bill and all. Specifically, just putting the cards on the table here, the current expected cash ball coming in is... "$762.4" and yes it is super weird that Patreon will list 40 cents as ".4" like that.

So, this month is not The Month. Scraping stuff together, calling in favors, having a nice windfall from putting that little RPG in a bundle, I in fact have enough cash en route to my bank that I can cover rent for September BEFORE Patreon gives me that $762.40, and still have a couple hundred bucks to cover having power and eating enough to stay alive. But when October 1st gets here, yeah, I'm just going to have what Patreon is gearing up to send me here, and if I manage to convince my landlord to give me an extension and wait for that month's payment, I can... MAYBE live through that month? Don't think buying Halloween candy to hand out is in that budget though, and based on current projections, yeah, by November there is going to be A Problem.

I'm trying every angle I can to scrape cash up, but my primary source of income at the moment is still... put entertaining/interesting/informative things up on the internet and hope people enjoy those enough to want to throw some money my way. And this blog here has kinda been the only platform I've had for sharing stuff, so basically what I'm asking is...

WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME!?

But no, for real. I have a lot of different irons in the fire right now, and haven't been sharing much on most of them, but if there's a particular sort of thing you'd like to see from me, and particularly if seeing that would leave you predisposed to throw a little money my way, please just flag me down via message here on tumblr or discord if you know how or... some e-mail I'll maybe remember to check, and let me know? I know people still love that Ranma thing I wrote up years ago, I could maybe find more things to do trans readings on? Did people like that FF14 plot summary? Want more like that? Movie reviews maybe? Updates on games I'm working on? I've been spending a ton of time on this really ambitious electronics project. I could talk about that more? Explain how computers work in great detail? Shove everything aside and get back to Twitch streaming? I'm desperate over here.

[mum2student-blog]

Making Time, Finding Balance

Let’s be honest – being a parent isn’t easy. Between work, house chores, and trying to keep some semblance of a social life (ha!), there’s always a million things on our plates. For me, as a mum of three energetic little boys, one of my biggest worries was not spending enough quality time with them. The hustle of life seemed to be getting in the way, and I wasn’t happy with that.

I’ve been working as an early years educator for years, and while I absolutely love my job, after having my youngest (who’s now 15 months old), I realized I had to make a change. The cost of living was already tight, and like many families, we were living paycheck to paycheck. But even more than that, I was missing out on precious time with my boys. So, I made the tough decision to cut my workdays to just three days a week.

Now, it wasn’t easy to make that call. Cutting back at work meant cutting back on income, which definitely made things tighter financially. But you know what? My boys are happier, I’m happier, and we’re finding our groove in this new normal.

The Art of Budgeting and Making the Most of What You Have

I’ll admit, learning how to stick to a budget has been a challenge. When you’re used to just scraping by, it can feel impossible to find ways to save. But I’ve gotten better at managing our money, and one thing I’ve made a priority is setting aside a little for each of my boys, no matter how small it may be.

We’ve also become pros at finding free or cost-effective activities that keep everyone entertained (and tired out by bedtime!). Whether it's hitting the local park, having movie nights at home, or getting creative with arts and crafts, I’ve discovered that we don’t need to spend a ton of money to create meaningful memories. And the best part? These activities bring us closer together, reminding me that the most valuable thing I can give my kids is time – not stuff.

Food, Glorious Food!

One of the biggest changes I’ve made is in our approach to food. Like many families, we used to rely on quick, convenient options like cereal for breakfast. Let’s face it, it’s easy to pour some cereal and milk and get everyone fed in five minutes. But I started to think about the nutritional value (or lack of it) and realized I wanted to do better for my boys.

So, I made the decision to ditch the cereal. Yep, you heard that right – no more cereal in our house! Instead, I get up a bit earlier every day to make their breakfast from scratch. It sounds like a lot, but honestly, it’s been one of the best changes we’ve made. The boys are starting their day with a nutritious meal – think eggs, porridge, fruit, whole grains – and I’m able to sit down with them, which adds a little calm to our usually chaotic mornings.

And you know what? The change in their energy levels and mood has been amazing. Plus, I feel a little less "mum guilt" knowing they’re eating healthier.

Making It All Work

Balancing everything – work, home life, finances, and my boys’ well-being is a constant juggling act. Some days are smoother than others, and of course, there are times when I still feel stretched thin. But this journey has taught me so much about prioritizing what truly matters.

It’s not about having it all together or having all the answers no parent does. It’s about being present with our kids, making intentional decisions, and learning as we go. I might not have a big bank account, and we might not be able to afford all the bells and whistles, but we’ve figured out what works for us.

In the end, my boys are happier, healthier, and more connected to me – and that’s what counts. So, to all the parents out there who are feeling the pinch, remember: you’re not alone. We’re all figuring it out, day by day, and doing the best we can. And that’s more than enough.

Love,

Mum2Mum

[lcndonboysstuff]

I got so excited when I found out Joe likes so many of the same books that I do! I would love to just sit and talk with him about books and movies and art. Also, as someone else said, if you are planning to read A Little Life it is definitely a good idea to pay attention to the trigger warnings for it. You don't have to look for spoilers but just take heed of the all trigger warnings. It is a beautiful book though and the writer has a way of just making you fall in love with every single character you come across. I would also steer clear of any reviews of the book on social media because tbh I think a lot of people just don't understand the story the author is trying to tell. I'm not saying that to be a snob, I'm just saying it because I watched a lot of reviews before reading the book and it gave me the wrong impression of it. It's an absolutely beautiful story from start to finish filled with pain and heartbreak but so achingly human. I would also advise you to read it with small breaks and to read when you have time to spare so you're not distracted. There is a play now in the West End in London which I wish I could see. Maybe someday if I can scrape together enough money lol

thx for the tips🫶🏾 hope that happens for you one day. I barely go to see plays but the times i have, have all been enjoyable experiences

[littleapocalypsekitten]

What you have to remember about The Hunger Games (I'm a fan) is that it is not the rich hunting the poor in that. It is the rich pitting the poor against each other, which is believable, because it is what happens right here and now in real life. They have the children of the poor fighting in a televised arena for the entertainment of the ruling class (and mandated viewing for everyone else). The Districts have been purposefully divided and given differing levels of treatment to create differing cultures within each and are generally seen as against one another in the arena even as they have this false thing of "One Panem" in terms of the products they provide. Everyone competes for the win / survival and the prize money to prosper the winning District for the year to the point that three Districts in the book (though I think they only had two in the movie) actually do gladiator-training from a young age for their kids while the more rebellious-spirit Districts (particularly 12) are kept in such utter poverty that the people don't even think about actually rebelling because they're too busy trying to scrape together food ( to the point that some of the poorest people - aka Katniss' family - scavenge, poach game beyond the un-maintained fences, bribe guards, some people do prostitution for favors from the soldiers and her mother does herblore medicine for the many people who can't afford regular medicine). So, actually find THG very realistic in this regard because it's not just a vision of a future, it's happening now. The books reflect how American Imperialism treats other countries. It reflects how the ruling class, politicians and capitalism treats the poor / poor areas / certain racial-class areas. We don't have televised death-matches yet, but I read in an interview or a back of book blurb on one of the things about how a large part of the inspiration for the story was the military industrial complex, which takes working-class kids into the military ("I ain't no senator's son!") and keeps them in that "glory and money if you risk your life for your country" thing. I'd say it gets even more blatant in the prequel: A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. If you put aside the stupid romance-triangle, the dumb hovercrafts and the genetically-engineered beasties, THG is actually VERY realistic. It just has more of a spectacle to it. What you're talking about really is more "just kill the poor" when you're forgetting that the rich bastards actually like sport and they like to punish, judge and make sure the poor know how beneath them they are by making them suffer. Just hobbling us and sledging us in the head isn't going to create near enough slow suffering to whet their bloodlust. As Snow says in the Games - "What is the only thing stronger than fear? Hope." Having that little bit of (false) hope is what gives him and his people the absolute political control they have over Panem. The same with what goes on today and what would happen in a hypothetical "Fuck it, let's do the Purge" situation. Snow only lost control because he actually started doing some outright stupid things, like listening to an advisor who was secretly for the Districts / employed by 13 and in that doing the "take away hope" by squeezing too hard on the people and formenting enough guts in them to actually organize a revolution. And it wouldn't be an entertaining book without one. (Even if you think its chances of success are about as realistic as genetically-engineered killer monkeys).

So poor people don’t deserve to have money?!

[prof-peach]

{{ Could you tell us more about Plum? I saw their name in the moveset post, and that selection of moves really intrigued me! Why the selection of ghost/psychic moves? What do they do on the island? Are they as prickly as the move selection made them sound? Super intrigued!

Plum grew up in the city, with very well off parents, who pretty much gave her the world. While that had its benefits, it came with some down sides. She became very entitled, putting herself on a pedestal and demanding a lot of others. When she wanted to become a ranger, to be like the cool actresses in the movies, attempting daring rescues, fighting crime with their Pokemon. Her family bought her a dratini as a first Pokemon, and paid to enrol her in the ranger academy.

At the same time, peach had been recommended for the same course by local authorities that wanted to channel her destructive nature into something more useful. She was indifferent to doing it, so just went along with the whole thing.

Day one, the pair met their class, their teachers, and the campus. They immediately clashed. Plum was being snide and condescending to other students, peach was sitting behind her, called her some unpleasant things with her stupid dead-pan face, they broke into a fight pretty soon after.

This behaviour continued for four months before the teachers began to explore other options for the pair. Plum had proven incapable of handling her rogue dratini, it paid her no attention, and was often disruptive and chaotic. However she was very astute on the written tests, and technical knowledge of the law. Peach on the other had was suited to the practical learning, her and her vulpix were agile and effective at battles. She however only just scraped by with the written content, and slacked in classes, did just enough to pass with the least amount of effort put in. And so the crazy idea of the pair having to work together at all times until they get along was born. If they didn’t achieve this, together as a team, they would both be booted off the ranger program.

Plum was distraught, the ranger training was hard, it was nothing like the movies showed, she felt cheated out of what she wanted. Her new human partner was a nightmare, rude, blunt, disrespectful, irritating. Her Pokemon partner was unruly, why didn’t it like her? She bought it the nicest things, and fussed over it, and all it would do was run away or try to break all her expensive things. Nothing had turned out right for plum, it was not going to her plan.

The pair had three months to get it together, or they were out.

First month they argued constantly, nitpicking behaviours, being petty, generally getting nothing done well. Peach would bring their collective grade down to spite plum, and plum would slow down and spook Pokemon in the wild constantly, making it impossible to do anything tactical.

Second month peach got sick and tired of plum’s dratini being unruly, and began to secretly work with it to build some trust, whenever plum wasn’t watching. Because plum’s head was always in the books, she was completely unaware of this going on. Instead she studied and brought their written grade up, making sure to compensate for her lazy human partner.

Month three was when plum caught on that peach was working with her Pokemon. They were out tracking an injured aipom, trying to help. Plum’s dratini was out, and it bolted off in one direction, plum called it, it didn’t respond, peach did the same, and it turned immediately to come back, returning to plum’s side. Shocked, plum for once said nothing. They managed to successfully track and trap the injured Pokemon, and give it aid before release. The mark of the first actual successful mission.

Plum began to actually look at what peach was doing, for the first time, she took her head out of the books and secretly began to observe. Observation turned to practice. She started to use things peach was doing, to connect with her partner, and grow their bond.

By the end of their trial three months as a duo team, they had not stopped arguing, fuelled by their newly developed bitter rivalry. Instead of crushing each other down during drills and exams, they worked to out-do each other. A save of your partner was a win, because you could rub it in their face that you were the reason they weren’t hurt. It was enough for the teachers to allow them both to stay on the course.

This continued for a year and a half, they were very volatile together, but always got the job done. It was then that peach had a run in with some truly horrible poachers, and found herself in possession of a Teddiursa with a lot of trauma. There was only one thing to do, the ranger course was regimented and strict, and that didn’t suit her lifestyle. Peach left for the mountains to work with the new member of her team, ditching plum and all her connections without a word.

Plum was furious she would just leave, and vowed to do better than peach ever could have. She finished the ranger course, worked her way up the ladder, and achieved a high ranking admin position after a number of years. Her rich taste never changed, her family money never ran out. Perhaps she could have been brought back down to earth if she had to work with someone like peach for longer, her now faithful dratini had evolved in that time, but always reminded her of the early years, when things were exciting, and she had a strong goal to achieve bigger and better things than her ranger partner.

With new labs popping up, and new connections being made, plum was assigned liaison duty with Dotaku island, unaware that her once small, young rival, was now a big, strong professor. Plum’s dragonair was the tell. It sensed peach a mile off, for the first time in many years, bolting off towards her when it first touched down on the island. Plum saw peach, peach saw plum, snide comments followed, that escalated to insults, then to shouting. And finally the realisation that they had to work together again after all those years.

Now when the ranger bases local to the island catch something that needs specialist care, they send it through, and plum will be the one who handles their cases, and eventual release or rehoming. She does all the paperwork and organising, and the labs handle the actual care and rehabilitation.

Plum is still childish at times, usually quite snide when provoked, but has become strategic and observational about how she handles most things. After graduating top of her class, she’d had a complex about being the best, and prides herself on that. Her paperwork is flawless, her analytical skills top notch. She does however fall short on her people skills, folks do find her snooty at times. She’s taken full advantage of her family money, and bought a lot of gear and lessons to improve her skills over the years. She does lose herself when confronted with her old rival, and both tend to resort to playground tactics.

[fawn-eyed-girl]

Good bones and if Kagome fell!

Ahhh hello Lav, my dear! Thank you for asking about these two fics! Neither has gone much past the idea stage, but I've been plotting Good Bones off and on for awhile now, and If Kagome Fell is one I've been dying to write, but have been a little nervous about trying my hand at. (I'll explain why in a sec.)

First, Good Bones. It's an Usagi/Mamoru fic. I used to write Sailor Moon fanfic in my younger years--stuff that has never seen the light of day--and I've long wanted to get back to writing them, but I needed a story that worked first. I think this one is it for me.

Basically, Mamoru is a contractor, but lives next door to an absolute money pit. Like, it's a house he would NEVER buy, because just looking at it, he knows it would suck up all his resources and not be worth the flip. It's bad enough that he kind of wants to move, but he loves his house, and he really would never sell. (Not yet, anyway, because in this fic, there's a downturn in the market.)

Color him surprised, then, when on his day off, he awakens to the sound of someone bringing a dumpster over to that money pit next door. The house that he, an experienced contractor, would never even THINK of flipping. He looks out the window: it's a young woman, and four of her friends, and from the looks of the equipment they've hauled in, they are going to try and renovate the house themselves?

He rolls his eyes, knowing that they'll NEVER be able to reno this house without sinking a fortune into it.

And, yup, Usagi is the one who buys the house. And, yup, she and her friends are trying to renovate it themselves. Chaos and hijinks ensue, and Mamoru is gradually dragged into helping her with this house.

Basically, house renovations and romance, Usagi/Mamoru style.

Now, If Kagome Fell.

This is a story based on one of my favorite movies, If Lucy Fell. It's another one of those movies that just says InuKag (you know about this 🤣🤣🤣), but it's dark, and while I've wanted to write it for awhile, I was also a little bit afraid of trying it, because...dark.

Inuyasha and Kagome have been best friends for ten years. They live in an apartment in together; he's an art teacher, and she's a psychologist. They have been trying to scrape together enough money to start their own art school, but investors haven't been biting. And, to make matters worse, their love lives are non-existent. Inuyasha is hopelessly in love with the woman who lives in the apartment complex across the alley, and Kagome goes from guy to guy, never really finding "the one." In order to kick start their love lives, then, Kagome makes a radical suggestion: her 30th birthday is fast approaching, and if they aren't in solid relationships by that date, they'll take some drastic action (if you've seen the film, you know what her suggestion is, but I'm still not sure if I will do that or not, because of reasons).

Inuyasha is shocked, to say the least, but he decides to commit to talking to the mystery woman, while Kagome has to agree to go out with any guy who asks her on a date. She reluctantly agrees. Even when the guy who asks her out is a zany artist who is someone she never would have, under other circumstances, EVER dated.

So why have I been hesitant? Because it's a story where InuKag are endgame, but it's gonna take a long time for us to get there. And they have to date other people in order to realize that what they want has been right in front of them, all along. But I'm really interested in exploring them as best friends, who want more, but don't really realize it, or at least, don't know how to articulate it in the right words. I've been riding the Friends to Lovers train quite a bit in reading fics for other fandoms, and I wanted to try my hand at something like that for InuKag, too, in an AU.

My WiP Challenge List!

[localwebslingers]

With a slight nod, Peter put the bar down on the bed, careful not to move as Harry finished with his hand, before setting the water down and grabbing another bar. Once again using his teeth to open the wrapper before continuing to eat. Four protein bars and one would think he'd feel sick from eating them, but he was finally starting to feel full instead. In another hour or so most of that feeling would be gone, especially with the injuries that were going to need to heal.

Usually, Peter did his best to drink water from what he had stashed away and sleep off the worst of it. Far from perfect, but it had been working in the pinches he kept finding himself in. This was already a huge step up from that.

He smiled a little at the mention of takeout again and shook his head, "I didn't forget." there was no way he'd be able to convince Harry that the bars would be enough. Not after admitting exactly how much he usually needed to eat. And that estimate was for a good day, not when he'd punched a car and trashed the engine. Peter took another bite of the bar, finally slowing down in how fast he was eating and thought the question over, "...Got any good Chinese food places in the area?"

It was maybe a slightly selfish pick of what to get, but it was the option that stood out. Pizza was easy to get by the slice, maybe not good pizza but Peter could usually scrape together a few dollars for a slice, two if he was lucky. He remembered going out to a spot for Chinese out in Queens, when May and Ben had the extra money for it. Small, local, maybe it even closed down, but he could still remember what it looked like walking in. The buffet portion let Peter eat as many plates as he wanted without feeling bad about how much he needed, even as a kid.

It was also a pretty common place when Harry stayed over, if May wasn't already cooking something, for the same reason. Something that, in spite of everything, felt almost normal. Like movie nights.

The bar was finished and he grabbed the last one to eat as well, waiting for his hand to be finished with before carefully flexing his fingers. It still ached and there was a remaining, dull burn from cleaning the wounds, but it already felt a little better just from being covered up. Peter nodded and looked at Harry, smiling a little, "Thanks...not as easy as the TV shows and movies made it look doing that with one hand." he joked, trying to lighten the mood at least a little bit.

|| @inhcursed ||

"I'll make sure to get them replaced." Harry agreed, noting it down in a corner of his mind. He didn't think he'd forget, not given the situation, but he'd have to figure out a way to replace what he'd used without bringing any attention to it. Maybe through Felicia, he thought, because going himself might not be the best idea... and he'd have to figure out how to keep the timing from not being noticed, but also have some more just in place.

Still, he didn't tell any of this to Peter: he had a hunch that if he felt he was being a problem in any way, untrue as it might be, he'd hide again. And Harry would rather know he was injured that have nothing but the ability to worry.

A part of him considered that maybe he should be offended, or annoyed, at what could be perceived as lack of manners. The rest of him decided he didn't care: Peter's honesty was easily one of his most welcome traits, when considering how everyone else in Harry's life wore masks upon masks, Harry included.

Moreover, Peter's instructions were clear, which was more than soothing to Harry's pride at being either incompetent or thought so: he had to ask for clarification once or twice, yes, but Peter was explaining the how and the why, and Harry followed suit as best as he could, movements direct and grounded on the bed, trying his best to pretend he wasn't focusing just as much on the cleaning as it was on pretending his hands were not particularly steady.

He could have claimed he was squeamish at the sight of blood, and yet... he didn't want to, when it could push Peter away. But he also did not want to admit it was not nerves sapping away his strength.

"I've never tried them." He admitted, nevertheless, as Peter offered him a bar. A welcome distraction. "I'll have one once I'm done with this." He added. "While we wait for the takeout."

And then, to distract Peter as well, "You're the guest, you get to choose." He offered.

@localwebslingers

[skiesofthesketchy]

Stood Up {1}

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: You have a date with your friend that you’ve liked forever, but he never shows up.

Note: Heyyyyy Please read the warnings before proceeding. This is one of the darker things I’ve ever written, and it might trigger some people so please be careful. I’m usually a fluff writer but I’ve been feeling... ya know, down lately so this is what I made. I’m working on the second part to Unsend still, but haven’t been in the mood lately so sorry it’s taking so long!

Let me know what you think! :)

Word Count: 6.5k

Stood Up: {Part 2} / { Part 3}

WARNINGS: Violence and abuse! sexual violence! trauma! swearing, angst

WARNINGS: Violence and abuse! sexual violence! trauma! swearing, angst

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

10:00 PM

I pulled my sweater tighter against me when I felt a small burst of wind, the chill making goosebumps surface on my bare legs. I looked left and right down the black street, but nobody was around. It was quiet, almost silent besides dried leaves scraping against the pavement, and the only light was the orange glow from the street lamps and the red neon sign above my head casting onto the empty street. It was a nice night, even with the cool breeze, but I could feel my nerves kicking in.

I tried to remain optimistic though. Maybe he’s just running late... I pulled out my phone again to see if JJ had texted me back, but he hadn’t.

On my way! See in you 20 :)

I sighed, looking at the last text I sent him. I only sent it hoping to remind him that we had plans tonight in case he forgot. He always forgets. 

‘He’s just a forgetful person,’ I tell myself for what feels like the thousandth time. It’s usually that phrase that makes me feel better, or ‘He’s got a lot going on.’ I never make it a big deal when he misses our plans, even though it feels like a small piece of my heart breaks off and dies every time it happens. 

‘This time is different though,’ I told myself. It was just yesterday that I mentioned the movie theater was showing a bunch of Quentin Tarantino films this week. I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, just a fun thing me and my friends could all do together, but I was truly very excited about it and really hoped they’d be down. 

“Are they showing Kill Bill?” JJ asked with a smile. The other pogues didn’t seem interested but I was happy that JJ was. 

“Yeah. Tomorrow night actually,” I shrugged.

“We should go.”

I smiled softly at him. “Sure, if you want to.”

He chuckled, blue eyes lighting up as he poked my cheek. I knew he could see right past my nonchalant demeanor. “That’s your favorite movie ever. Of course I want to go see it with you! My treat.”

I ignored the fluttering in my belly, but couldn’t hide my smile. He remembers my favorite movie and wants to watch it with me. “You don’t have to pay for me,” I shook my head with a laugh. I didn’t expect him to, but the fact that he offered made my chest warm. JJ doesn’t have much money to begin with, and with what he does have, he usually spends on weed and beer, necessities in his daily life.

“No, no,” he tsked, bringing me into a hug. My giddy grin was thankfully hidden in his chest. Being this close to him always makes me feel lighter than air, warmer than the summer breeze. “You’re my girl. Let me take you out,” he finished, chuckling into my hair. 

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, like I always did when he called me his girl. I nodded in agreement once I pulled away from his embrace. “Ten o’clock tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll be there,” he replied, saluting me with a wink before turning to join the conversation the rest of the pogues were engaged in, leaving me to internally gush about going on a date with the boy I’ve liked since forever. 

Maybe it wasn’t a date, or maybe it was. I didn’t really know, but I didn’t care as long as I got to spend time with JJ. It really did feel like this time was different. My thoughts swirled, wondering if he likes me back. Wanting to take me to a movie makes it sound like he likes me, right?

Date or not, I wanted to look nice, so I spent more time getting ready than I normally did. I experimented with some light makeup, trying to make it subtle but still pretty. I left my hair down after making it look somewhat decent, something I hardly ever do because my go-to is always putting it up. I even picked out a dress to wear but made sure to choose one that JJ had seen me in plenty of times. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, but still hoped he would notice my appearance and think I looked pretty. 

10:10 PM

The movie started ten minutes ago, and still no word from JJ. I glanced down at my shoes and hugged myself tighter. ‘Maybe he did forget... again.’ I didn’t want to believe it, giving JJ the benefit of the doubt like I always did. But he still wasn’t here.

Yo are you coming? I sent another text.

I was really excited about tonight, not just because I’d be seeing one of my favorite movies in the theaters as if it was premiering for the first time. Now I just feel... heavy. Like I’m carrying the weight of the reality I should’ve realized a long time ago. If I was important to him, he would remember our plans.

My frown deepened. That’s what it comes down to, right? If he actually cared about me, he would be here, or at least tell me he’s not going to make it. Constantly forgetting our plans is a huge sign that he doesn’t like me the way I like him, that I don’t matter to him enough to follow through. It’s a sign I’ve been ignoring even though it’s been there the whole time, blaringly obvious and all too painful. 

No. JJ does care about me, even if it’s just as a friend. He’ll be here. He told me he would be.

10:20 PM

Spinning around and looking at the movie theater entrance, I thought about going inside and watching the movie anyway, but I suddenly wasn’t up for it anymore. This sick feeling in my gut was all I could think about. 

Of course JJ doesn’t like me. Why did I get my hopes up so high when all he’s ever done is not show up? It hurts. It feels like something crawled up inside of me and slashed its claws at my dumb, naive heart. Its terrifying and hoarse voice whispering in my ear, “What did you expect?”

Perhaps this is my fault; letting myself fall for someone that doesn’t feel the same. JJ Maybank: one of my closest friends, the biggest player on the whole damn island, and the most emotionally unavailable boy I’ve ever met. Of course I had to fall for him. I’m a fucking idiot. 

I slumped my shoulders, feeling defeated and tired. It’s like I was tossed to the side without a second thought, much like the trash lining the curb. My throat tightened with the emotions threatening to pour out in sobs, but I held them back. It’s not his fault. I’m the one with these stupid feelings, waiting around for him to feel them too, but he doesn’t. 

10:30 PM

I checked my phone one last time, still nothing. With a deep sigh, I started walking towards the direction of my house. I focused my attention on my sandals hitting the sidewalk, each step feeling like another crack in my heart. 

‘You’re fine,’ I told myself. ‘Don’t cry. You’re fine.’

But I wasn’t, and I felt the stubborn tears brim my eyes. I turned the corner and this street was much darker, the street lights dim and far apart. The sound of someone else’s footsteps pricked my ears, and I kept my head down to hide my frustration and the sadness running down my cheeks. I wanted the footsteps to belong to JJ, finally showing up but just a bit late. I knew better though, and didn’t bother looking up. 

“Well, look who it is. A little pougie.” I halted in my tracks, my eyes flicking up to find his cold ones, and I shot him a glare. As if I needed something to make my night even worse. Fucking Rafe.

“Not even gonna say hello?” he asked. I kept my posture stiff and my stare hard, trying to act tough even though I was most certainly in a vulnerable state.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” Rafe was predictable in the way that he lived to torture me and my friends. That’s the only reason he’d ever be caught dead in The Cut.

He stopped right in front of me, his tall frame dark and intimidating. Even under the blanket of night I could see his eyes were bloodshot and a sickening smirk lined his lips. He ignored my question as his eyes dragged up and down my body, making my stomach twist and skin crawl. “Where’s the rest of your dirty crew?” he spat.

“You’re lucky they’re not here.” I kept my tone steady, but I could feel my hands start to shake and an uneasy feeling settled inside of me. I need to get out of here. 

With hands stuffed in his pockets, he leisurely walked around me, eyes still glued to my bare legs. “You look pretty,” he whispered. “Were you on a date?” 

“No.”

“Then why are you all dressed up, darlin’?” His gaze met mine again when I spun around to face him, and with the way his features slightly softened, he probably noticed that I had been crying. “Oh. You were stood up, huh?”

Is it that obvious? “No,” I snapped. 

He chuckled darkly, stepping even closer to me, and I took a step back. “His loss.” Then he just stood there staring at me while I was lost in a sea of confusion. Is he trying to be nice?

“Well. It’s been not so nice talking to you. I’m going home now.” I turned around to escape this unpleasant conversation, but I was spun back around with the man’s grip on my arm. 

“Don’t leave. I’m not done talking to you.” I felt fear creep under my skin as I looked up at his face again, hardly able to make out anything but his eyes. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding. 

“Leave me alone.” I tried to snatch my arm out of his grasp, but he pushed me into the brick wall of the building we were in front of. 

The sudden movement caused me to stumble and twist my ankle. “Ow! Rafe, what the fuck!” I felt the pain shoot up my leg, but couldn’t focus on it for long. Rafe’s menacing features had panic surging through my veins as he came closer.

I pressed my back into the hard wall trying to separate myself as much as I could from the man towering over me. “You’ve had a rough night. Let me make you feel better,” he said. He stepped into me, his chest pressing against mine as he looked down at me.

“Get the fuck off of me,” I choked out. 

His wicked laugh fanned over my face and I felt angry tears fall. “Come on, little poguie. At least I actually want you.” His words seemed to drive a knife into my chest. JJ doesn’t want me, but I don’t have time to think about that right now. I can hardly think of anything right now. 

My palms rose to his chest, but he caught my wrists in his hands, keeping me from shoving him off. He laughed again, and the realization that Rafe isn’t sober washed over me like a tidal wave. What have I gotten myself into? “Let me go!” I screamed.

He shut me up by forcing his mouth onto mine. I screamed against his lips but he pressed into me harder. I started thrashing my body under the weight of his, but his hold became tighter. He brutally clutched both of my wrists into one of his large hands while the other came up to slap over my mouth, cutting off my cries.

“Just let it happen, darlin. Enjoy it,” he whispered into my ear. Hot tears ran down my face as I felt his lips on my neck. He sucked harshly on my skin as I squirmed, trying desperately to escape, but I couldn’t. Even if I couldn’t, I would die trying.

His mouth attacked my throat while I struggled between him and the wall. With the adrenaline pumping through my body, I used all of my strength and pushed him as hard as I possibly could. With the few inches I created between us, I picked my leg up and stomped my heel into his foot. 

I prepared to bolt with the time I had bought myself, but a second later he was landing a ruthless slap to my face. I registered the burning pain as he pinned me to the wall with his body again. “Oh, now you’re really gonna get it, pogue.” His sudden anger shook me to my core, his sick laugh echoing in my ears like a fire alarm. 

His hand landed on my thigh and dragged along my skin, pushing my dress up higher and higher as I felt the screams get caught in my throat. I dug my nails into his arms but he wasn’t bothered. He kissed me again and I took his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard until I tasted blood.

He yanked his head back, face twisting in rage. Even with his violating hands still searing into my skin, I brought my knee up into his crotch, and he yelled in pain. I didn’t waste any time and took off running, but I was yanked back by my hair. 

“Fucking bitch!” My head throbbed as I crashed to the ground, feeling my elbows scrape the pavement. I was seeing stars as I felt Rafe’s weight drop on top of me, his form straddling me. I threw my fists wildly into his stomach and chest, desperately trying anything to escape him, but I knew my efforts were becoming futile. His ring-clad fist connected with my cheekbone and a sob crawled its way up my throat.

“Stop!” I screamed. His hand suddenly grabbed my throat, cutting off my cries once again. I clawed at his skin to get him to stop, but he only increased the pressure on my esophagus until I couldn’t breathe, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My world was spinning and my terror didn’t let me register the pain anymore, only the horrendous realization of what’s happening to me taking over my thoughts. 

After what felt like minutes but was only a few seconds, I felt his breath fan over my face from where he hovered over me. “You’re not fucking worth the trouble.” He released my neck and I felt him get off of me, but I dared not open my eyes. I was too scared of what might happen. It surely became known when I felt a sharp kick to my stomach. I whimpered, then he landed another kick to my side. “Nobody wants you now! Nobody will ever want you! You’re just a dirty little pogue,” he seethed. 

“Fucking bitch,” he spat again, and I heard his heavy footsteps as he stormed off, leaving me on the ground in pieces. 

11:00 PM

I finally sat up, finding the strength to put myself together again, but was pulled into a coughing fit, my throat burning. I wish I could say I was numb, but I was brutally aware of the torment my body has been through, of the emotional trauma I’d have to live with. 

I carefully stood to my feet but folded in half with arms wrapped around my stomach, clutching myself in pain. Everything hurts. I forced myself to straighten, holding back the tears. I felt broken in every way possible, but I willed myself to figure out how to get help.

I picked up my bag that had been tossed to the ground and rummaged through it for my cell phone. With a heavy heart, I called the one person that I needed more than anyone.

But of course, he didn’t answer. More tears were shed, even though it felt like I couldn’t possibly cry anymore. “Answer, goddammit,” I sobbed. I called again. “Please, JJ. Please. I need you.” Again, the call went to voicemail. 

I let out a wail of anguish. Even with nasty bruises already forming on my skin, the loud shatter of my heart is what hurt the most. He’s never here. Even when I need him. 

I didn’t even want to call anyone else. My ankle, my face, my stomach, my throat. Even though I was shaking in pain, I wanted to wallow in my heartbreak alone, so I slowly started walking again, and limped all the way home. 

***

JJ’s P.O.V.

“How was the movie last night?”

I stretched my arms over my head with a yawn, barely registering what John B. asked. “Huh?”

He chuckled and sat next to me on the pullout couch in the living room where I slept. “You got back pretty late last night. I’m guessing you and Y/N had a good time?” Now I’m thinking it’s not just my sleep induced brain that’s making me so confused.

“What do you mean? I wasn’t with Y/N,” I groaned while rubbing my eyes, the sunlight seeping through the windows too bright and annoying.

“What do you mean, dude?” His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes suddenly flashed with anger. “You were supposed to take her to a movie last night.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumbled, getting even more annoyed. He doesn’t have a right to be pissed at me, not when I have no idea what he’s even pissed about. It’s too fucking early for this shit. 

John B. stood up with a sharp laugh. “I can’t believe you forgot again, man. Seriously?”

I sat up, my anger matching his now. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” He shook his head before looking at me again, baffled. 

“Y/N? Kill Bill? You guys had a date planned.” 

I glared at him before realization finally hit me. I slapped my hand to my forehead. “Fuck. Was that supposed to be last night?”

He shook his head again. “You’re unbelievable, really.” I sighed. It was an honest mistake. At least I know she’ll forgive me. She always forgives me. 

“I’ll fix it. I’m sure she won’t be mad.” John B. rolled his eyes. “And it wasn’t a date, by the way.”

“Yeah? Did you tell her that?”

“Stop talking in riddles, man. What the hell do you mean? Of course she knows.” He hit me on the back of the head, reminding me of my headache, the dreaded hangover starting to take effect. “Hey! What was that for?”

“She likes you, idiot! No idea why, considering you’re just a dick that doesn’t bother to show up to the plans you guys make.”

“Is this why you’re yelling at me? She doesn’t like me, dude. Not like that,” I rolled my eyes. I could punch him for getting on my case over nothing. Y/N doesn’t like me, and missing plans has never been a big deal. I just want to deal with my hangover in peace.

“You don’t deserve her. And she doesn’t deserve your shit,” he said, walking away into the kitchen. 

“You’re getting mad over nothing. Fuck off,” I grunted, head in my hands. I need coffee and advil. His yelling is making my headache worse.

He sauntered back into the living room, throwing a bottle of painkillers at me, too forcefully if you ask me. “Just tell me, if you weren’t with Y/N, what did you do last night?”

I smirked, remembering the events that took place. “A hot blonde that I met at the boneyard,” my smirk widened. I expected some sort of congratulations from my best friend like usual, but I was met with a scoff and a water bottle being thrown at me.

“You’re a prick. You know that?” 

“And you’re an asshole. What do you want from me?”

“Whatever, dude. Let’s just hope Y/N forgives you this time,” he snapped, walking away and finally leaving me in much needed silence.

“She will!” I yelled after him, hearing his bedroom door slam shut.

I sighed before gulping down the painkillers for my headache. I grabbed my discarded shorts from yesterday on the floor and grabbed my phone out of the pocket. I had forgotten that I put it on Do Not Disturb mode after the hot blonde and I left the party. Girls like it when you give them all of your attention, and aren’t distracted by calls and texts. 

I sighed again when I saw the text’s from Y/N.

9:36 PM: On my way! See you in 20 :)

10:10 PM: Yo are you coming? 

I sure feel like an asshole now. I hoped that she would’ve watched the movie without me anyway, but considering she called me twice at 11:00, she probably didn’t. I feel even worse now that I can see she waited over an hour for me. I typed out a text to her, but I wasn’t sure how to word this apology.

Hey, sorry I missed out last night. Got held up :)

I opted for keeping it nonchalant, not wanting to make this a big deal. I’ll make sure she knows how sorry I am the next time I see her. I’m not worried though. She’s the only one out of the pouges that doesn’t get mad at me when I do stupid shit, and she always forgives me. This time won’t be any different.

I laid back down with my arm covering my eyes, and I thought about what John B. said. Y/N doesn’t like me. She’d be stupid to like a fuck up like me. No, no, we’re just friends, and have been for years. I laughed at the thought. 

John B. was right about one thing, though. I definitely don’t deserve her. She’s way too good for me, especially when I’m not good to her.

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I stood in front of the mirror and peered at my naked body in the reflection, tears spilling down my cheeks for what felt like the millionth time. 

My eye was swollen and bruised, a cut on my cheek from Rafe’s ring. Large spots of sickly green and deep violet stained my torso. Dark rings around my wrists from his tight grip. A lighter purple ring wrapped around my neck from where Rafe’s hands had cut off my breathing. 

My hot tears dripped from my face and landed on my collarbone, bringing my attention to the hickeys littering the side of my neck too. I wanted to vomit. I could take the physical assault, but that’s not all this was. He violated me. Kissed me. Sucked on my neck while his hands traveled under my dress. 

Going to the police was a thought that bounced through my mind, but I couldn’t, not yet at least. I was much too unstable. I needed support if I was going to report it, but I still hadn’t told anyone what happened. I spent all of yesterday locked in my room, letting myself wallow in the pain.

JJ had texted me yesterday morning, apologizing for not showing up. A simple text wasn’t enough this time. He texted me again that afternoon.

I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’ll make it up to you. Please don’t be mad at me :(

I wasn’t mad. I was heartbroken, and didn’t bother responding to that text either. If he had shown up, I wouldn’t have been assaulted by Rafe. If he was there, we would have been happily watching my favorite movie, eating snacks and probably laughing at the gore displayed on the screen. If he was there, I wouldn’t have been crying in the dark streets alone, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I could have been raped. That I was almost raped.

The other pogues were trying to get a hold of me yesterday too, inviting me to their plans, but I never responded to anyone. I didn’t want to face them, or anyone for that matter. I didn’t even think I wanted to tell them what happened. It was all too much, and I didn’t want to relive it by telling anyone what Rafe had done to me. Not to mention it would add even more ammunition to the war between us and the kooks. 

I don’t feel any different today, still just wanting to curl up in bed and be alone for probably forever, but I don’t have that luxury today. My mom had left for work this morning before I even woke up, but she sent me a text asking me to run some errands. When I protested, she gave me the whole lecture on how I only ever spend time with the pogues and never help out. I didn’t have a choice. 

With one last glance in the mirror, I wiped the tears off my face and started getting dressed. I had to cover the bruises somehow, but makeup was not going to do the trick. Despite the hot temperature outside, I threw on a large sweatshirt over my sports bra. If I put the hood on, nobody would notice the disgusting marks lining my neck. I found a pair of my mom’s oversized sunglasses and they covered enough of my face to hide the cut on my cheek along with the black eye. I put on shorts and shoes and grabbed my bag before looking in the mirror one last time. Nobody would notice.

***

JJ’s P.O.V.

“Have you guys heard from Y/N?” Pope asked the group. “She hasn’t responded to any of my texts for like two days.” I frowned. At least I wasn’t the only one she was ignoring. I thought that she was probably still mad at me for bailing on our plans, but since she isn’t responding to Pope either, maybe she’s just busy with other things.

“No, I haven’t,” Kie answered. “Pretty weird, right?”

“Yeah, I wonder what’s up.” Pope’s face looked concerned suddenly, and I found my own expression matching his.

“Why don’t you ask JJ here,” John B. said, tone sharp with annoyance. Kie and Pope both whipped their heads towards me, eyebrows raised in question. I just scoffed, turning my attention back to waxing my board.

“What the hell did you do?” Pope asked. His accusing words pissed me off. Who said this was my fault?

“Nothing, okay? I just forgot we had plans, and--” I was cut off by John B.

“No surprise there,” he mumbled under his breath. 

Kiara sighed, her disappointed eyes casting down on me. “Seriously, JJ?”

“What? You guys can’t pin the blame on me! I got distracted, it wasn’t my fault.”

John B. scoffed and I wanted to punch him, much like yesterday morning. “Yeah, what was her name again? The distraction, I mean.” I rolled my eyes. 

“Come on, dude. Not cool,” Pope added with a shake of his head. With all three of them staring at me in dismay, it felt like my friends were attacking me. It’s also like they knew something I didn’t. Why is everything always my fault? 

“Stop turning it into a big deal. I just forgot, okay? I already apologized, so it’s fine.”

“So she forgave you?” JB asked, eyes narrowed like he already knew the answer.

“Well, no...” I let my head drop, looking down at the golden sand with all of our beach gear. “She never responded. But come on, this is Y/N we’re talking about! She never stays mad for long.” The words were meant to get my friends off my back, but I found myself taking comfort in them too. I had never really seen Y/N mad before, but if she actually was mad at me, I hoped she’d let me make it up to her and forgive me. I let myself believe that everything would be fine.

Nobody had anything else to say, only sighing and turning their gazes away from me. I felt the anger sitting in the pit of my stomach, but at least they dropped the subject. I’m more upset that this might actually be my fault. ‘Y/N isn’t the type to get mad easily,’ I reminded myself again. But she’s also not the type to ignore her friends. My mind drifted, wondering if she’s okay. 

“Eat up, boys,” Kie said, taking a stack of sandwiches out of the cooler she brought. We all sat down on our towels and started eating, but I couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N from my mind. Maybe I should text her again.

Hey. We’re all at the beach having lunch if you wanna join us. Even if you don’t, that’s ok. Just let me know you got this. We’re all worried about you. I’m worried about you...

I typed it out, but couldn’t bring myself to send it. If she really is ignoring us, I’m sure it’s for a good reason. Maybe it’s best to just give her space. She’ll reach out when she wants to. Whatever the reason, though, I really hope it’s not because of me. She’s the one person I can always count on to be on my side, and I don’t know what I’d do if I was the cause of her distancing from us.

“Oh, no way. It’s Y/N!” Pope interrupted my thoughts. My head turned to see where he was looking, and sure enough, it was my girl, passing through the boardwalk.

Pope was up on his feet and ran to her, calling over his shoulder that he’ll bring her over to us.

***

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Y/N! Hey!” I stopped in my tracks when I heard my name being shouted, and I noticed Pope running up from behind me.

“Oh, hey Pope,” I said, trying to swallow down my nerves. I didn’t plan on running into my friends here. I didn’t need them finding out about what happened the other night, so I put on a half-hearted smile, trying to act normal, trying to act okay.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked with a laugh, pulling me into a bear hug. I held back my wince from where he grabbed my sides, the bruises there shooting pain through my body. 

“Oh, ya know,” I gulped. “Just busy with my family.” I was glad that my sunglasses were dark enough so that he couldn’t see my eyes. If he could, he’d know I was lying within seconds. “Sorry I’ve been M.I.A.”

“It’s alright. Come on. We’re having lunch right now.” He grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the beach, and the other pogues sitting together on the beach came into my focus. 

My eyes widened. “Uh, no, Pope. Sorry, but I have to go.” He stopped and gave me a weird look. “I... I’m running errands for my mom,” I shrugged, hoping he would let me go so that I don’t have to talk to the others, talk to JJ. 

“Just come say hi then. Everyone missed you!” He tugged my hand again, but I didn’t budge from where I planted my feet in the sand. 

“No, Pope. Really, I have to get going.” I didn’t have any other excuses up my sleeve, and I could feel my resolve coming undone. He gave me another weird look, probably wondering what the hell is going on with me. I wanted to tell him. I did, really. But I was not ready to talk about it. I didn’t need him or the others seeing what I looked like under this sweatshirt, or the black eye I was sporting under my glasses. I knew it would only cause more problems, more rage, and I couldn’t handle that right now. If anything, I just needed a hug.

“Is everything okay?” I looked down at my feet and sighed, trying to muster up the strength to lie to one of my best friends. When I looked back up to him, he had sent a look towards the pogues, and they all got up and started making their way over.

“Yes, Pope. I’m fine,” I breathed out a laugh, trying to cover up my panic. “I gotta go, now. Really.” I turned around to run away, but I was too late. The pogues had already crossed the beach and were surrounding me. 

“Y/N! Hey, we missed you!” Kie smiled, pulling me into a hug. Again, I had to hide my grimace from the pain that engulfed me so that my friends couldn’t see. I knew I couldn’t keep up this act for long, and I felt my heart sinking further into my chest.

“Yeah, I’m glad we ran into you,” John B. smiled with a nod in my direction. His expression was soft and kind, and it strangely made me feel like he understood that I wasn’t all the way okay.

“There’s my girl,” JJ’s voice rang through my ears. He looked relieved, and pulled me into his chest, squeezing me tight. This time, I wasn’t able to hold in the small noise that escaped past my lips. When he pulled away, he looked down at me with concern. “You okay?”

I pushed him away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I couldn’t put on a half-assed smile this time. He’s the one causing my pain. The one that bailed on me. The one that wasn’t there when I needed him, leaving me alone and in broken pieces on that horrible night.

“Why are you wearing a sweatshirt?” Kie laughed. “It’s like one hundred degrees out here.” I just shrugged my shoulders, even though I was dying under the heavy material and the heat of the sun. I looked over my shoulder down the boardwalk, trying to avoid their worried glances, especially JJ’s. I could feel his eyes burning into me, and I couldn’t bear the weight of it for much longer.

“Yeah, what the hell? It’s burning hot out here,” Pope added, and pulled my hood off my head. 

“Pope, don’t,” I said. “I have to go.” I turned away after putting my hood back on and started walking, not even caring that they definitely know something’s wrong now. I just need to get away before I break down.

JJ was the one to catch up to me, leaving the pogues behind us and sharing worried looks. “Y/N, wait.” He grabbed my wrist, and I winced at the contact. “I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry for missing our plans. I got held up with a touron, and you know how it is. She was so hot, how could I not go home with her?” he laughed. Looking up at him, I felt my heart shatter all over again. Of course. He wasn’t with me because he was hooking up with some girl. This fucking hurts more than the punch Rafe landed to my face, and I felt anger swell inside of me.

“Come on, you’re not mad at me, are you?” He smiled, bringing his hands up to cradle my face. He was being his charming self like usual, which is precisely the reason I even fell for him in the first place. But his cute dimples and bright eyes aren’t going to fix anything this time. If anything, they’re just another stab to my chest.

He could sense I wasn’t giving into him. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise,” he pouted. My lips parted to speak, but no words tumbled out. He suddenly ripped my sunglasses from my face.

“JJ, don’t!” His face dropped at the sight of my bruised eye. The glasses fell to the sand when he stepped closer to me, eyes scanning my face. I pushed him back, but he swatted my hands away.

“Y/N?” His features quickly turned from worried to angry. “What the fuck happened?” I felt tears pricking my eyes, but I held them back as I tried to push him away again. He yanked my hood off my head and I knew he was piecing it all together now.

He reached for the bottom of my sweatshirt, and my hands grabbed at his to try and stop him. “Leave me alone,” I yelled, but he didn’t. Despite my attempts to stop him, he had grabbed the bottom of my sweatshirt and started pulling it up over my head. “JJ, stop!” I yelled again, but I couldn’t fight him back anymore because it hurt too much. He had taken it all the way off, leaving me just in my sports bra, my beaten body on full display.

A series of gasps surrounded me as the other pogues gathered around us again, shocked and bewildered expressions on their faces. I watched JJ scan my body. His eyes lingered on the bruises on my belly before flicking to my face again, and then my neck. With the way his eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his jaw, I could tell he was examining the hickeys on my skin. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and the silence was deafening. 

“Oh, Y/N...” Kie whispered, eyes becoming glossy.

“What the fuck happened?!” JJ burst. His face was twisted in rage as his hands reached for me. I stepped away, but he grabbed my arms. “Who the fuck did this to you?!” I shook my head, trying to swallow the sob that was making its way up my throat. “Y/N, who the fuck was it?!”

“JJ! Lay off!” John B. spoke up. Kie had wrapped her arms around me, wanting to shield me from our angry friend. They could tell JJ wasn’t helping. 

John B. and Pope pulled at JJ’s arms to get him to step back, but he exploded even more. “YN! Tell me who did this to you!” Seeing his reddened face and furious eyes made my own burning anger swim to the surface.

“Stop yelling at her!” Pope told JJ, him and JB still holding the blonde away from me.

“No! I swear to god I’m going to kill ‘em. What the FUCK happened??”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you had bothered to SHOW UP!” I flared, my voice slicing through the chaos among the group. My heated gaze met JJ’s, and his entire face fell at my words, the rage washing away from his pools of blue and replaced with sadness.

Everything seemed to still at my outburst, even my tears. I watched as JJ crumbled beneath the weight of my words. As angry and heartbroken and hurt as I was, I wanted to see him this way. I wanted him to feel guilty. 

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t show up. I should've known you wouldn’t answer when I called you for help. Because you never do.” With every word I spat, I could see the effect they had on him. I kept my ruthless stare fixed on him. “Congrats on fucking some touron, though.” 

Everyone stayed silent as I picked up my sweatshirt and sunglasses from the sand. I glanced at JJ one last time before putting my glasses back on and turning around, leaving everyone behind me without another word. 

***

Read: Stood Up - Part 2

Masterlist

***

[insomniasymphony]

Obsessive Hisoka Morow x Female Reader [He cannot hate you]

Constellation: Obsessive Hisoka Morow x Female Reader Words I got: → Protective → Duality → Affection Rating: Teen up and Audience

                            ►► He is the devil with a sweet tooth,                               And you are the candy on his tongue.                       Get on your knees and ask him to choose                                     Nothing sweeter than you.                              For sweetness doesn't last long. ◄◄

Hectically, you jerk your head from left to right, look around for other cars and take a breath when there are no others blocking the road. In the cold evening air, your legs carry you in hurried steps across the asphalt, to the other side of the pavement that should lead you through the houses of Yorknew. Further and further, until the hotel room is forever gone.

The breath on your lips rises in white clouds, bringing something wistful with it that you don't want to pay attention to. Still, you can't rid yourself of the thought in the back of your mind.

It's not too late to give up on your plan.

You could drag yourself back to the room you've been sharing with Hisoka for four days, put on something pretty and wait for the magician to return from his meeting. He'd tell you about his new plan, kiss you, and fuck your senses into no-man's land for half the night because you're his favourite toy.

That's the problem: you're just a doll that can be replaced.

He's never said that he loves you, even though you've been spending every spare minute together for six months. Hisoka took you on his journey and he hasn't let you out of his sight since.

You shower together, eat together, he kills anyone you exchange too many kind words with. It's as if he wants to shut you off from the world so that you belong to him alone.

But this obsessive nature of his is nothing but terror for you. Sometimes you long for freedom, which you know Hisoka will never give you. He would rather strangle to death with his own hands than see you go. His subliminal threats make that clear time and time again.

And tonight you are ready to die for your freedom.

A little more hastily, you hurry ahead, turn into a narrow alley and hear the echo of your footsteps rising up the stone walls. Each reverberation makes your skin seem colder under your soft woolen coat. The goosebumps don't subside, the shiver persists, and you can't help but believe that behind every shadow is a part of Hisoka. His intense gaze has made you paranoid.

Briefly, you shake your head. This time his eyes won't be able to pierce you. When Hisoka returns, the hotel room will be empty and you will be long gone – so far away from him, with a new name and a new life, that he won't find you. For three weeks you have been looking for someone who would save you and Hisoka from this relationship and you have indeed found someone who wants to fulfil all your wishes for a lot of money in exchange.

Your gaze wanders once briefly over your shoulder. Through the echo of your own flight, you can no longer perceive anything but your own movements. Hisoka could be walking right behind you and you wouldn't notice. The racing of your heart makes the blood rush in your ears and everything else inside you is so erratically tense that you don't know if your nerves can hold it all together.

Only when the alley ends and sends you between other streets to find safety, a tiny part of the fear falls away, still simmering underneath.

Across the street, at least fourteen cars have parked. This area of the city seems like a residential neighbourhood where men return to their loving wives. The husband old-fashioned in a suit while she wears an apron because dinner is boiling on the cooker. Docile women in the kitchen who have no time to look for other men. Probably that's exactly what Hisoka is longing for too. A woman who only has eyes for him. All day long. Without exception. Locked up like a bird in a cage.

Even though you never intended to replace him. Hisoka is the man who won your heart. A guy who goes through life strong and ruthless, but always takes great care to make sure you're okay.

Your steps slow down as you stop at the edge of the pavement. One of the vehicles is started, flashing its headlights three times. The sign that this is your getaway car. The man who will take you away. Away from Hisoka, whose arms have wrapped protectively around you more than once in the last six months. His warmth on your skin has always been comforting and even though you know he hates it when you talk to other men and he has left marks on your body as a safety for himself as a result, his company has always been loving. He has never hurt you unless you found sexual pleasure in it. He never raised his voice at you. Never did he try to lock you up. His only crimes are the threats that still jump through your senses and also the fact that he likes to corner and intimidate you.

On top of that, he messes with people for your sake who are more dangerous than one might think at first. Yes, you love him. But if you don't leave, he will either throw you away or he will be killed because of you. You are poison to each other, you can't explain it any other way.

Yet, you don't want to go. The fear in your heart has made room for sorrow and the desire to run back into his strong, protective arms is strong.

Swallowing dryly, you give yourself a push. You have no choice but to make the best decision for both of you. Your feet start moving again and you drag yourself along, reaching the car you're getting into. You find room in the back seat, the fabric of which clings to you strangely and uncomfortably as you take a shaky breath and look in the rearview mirror for a half-glimpse of your helper's round face.

“Are you ready, good lady?” His smoky voice scrapes through the atmosphere, merely making you nod before he finally starts the engine and drives off. Your heart sinks four floors deeper, smothered in grief and fear, both of which settle on too many things in your chest. Maybe you're making a mistake, but this relationship has no future.

You feel the car smoothly take the turns, hear the engine accelerate, sense every bump in your bones. You claw your sweaty hands into the upholstery as you reprimand yourself to rest with conscious inhales and exhales. It's over, you've escaped, given you both the freedom you deserve.

Yorknew's houses diminish for a moment, bringing trees and the parkland to the fore where you would have loved to have a romantic walk. But Hisoka doesn't think much of boring strolls. He likes sex. Togetherness where you are close to each other – all to yourselves, so that you can snuggle up to him and you just sit there. Amusement parks. Bungee gum. You.

The thought draws a sigh from you before the car makes a strange rattling sound, forcing the driver to stop. You halt at the side of the road, so you can't help but hold your breath.

“What was that?” you press out.

“If I saw right, I just accidentally drove over a marten,” the stranger returns to you, making you exhale because it's not a horror movie you're in after all. Then he gets out.

The open door, which he doesn't close, brightens up the inside of the vehicle, makes the outside world a little more unfriendly than it really is and forces you to get out too, because you can't find a quiet minute alone on this upholstery.

Slowly you push your way back into the cold of the darkness, glancing at the streetlights flickering conspiratorially before circling the car to check on your driver. But all you see in front of the bonnet is a trail of blood. Not a marten. No one. Probably he's just taking the dead animal away, burying it so the kids won't get spooked in the park the next day.

The cool air seems to bite down to your bones, numbing your skin as you count off two minutes. The restlessness keeps you looking around and for a moment you are willing to jump in the car and eagerly drive on. But your driver also has your new identity and all the other things that have been so painstakingly prepared. You can't leave without him. So you stroll a few steps towards the park. Just until the blackness seems to swallow everything, because the flickering streetlamps don't give enough light for more.

Tense, you cross your arms in front of your chest, bobbing up and down before gnawing fear begs for action. “Hello?”

Only silence returns to your question and you can't help but take a step over the dark threshold and venture further ahead to find your driver. Three, four feet ahead to the first tree closest to you. “What's wrong?”

Again you meet only silence, staggering a few more steps ahead and giving up in the same breath. A glance over your shoulder moves the car, which is already a few metres away from you, into a ghostly, almost lonely picture, apart from the other vehicles that pass by every now and then. No one seems to care about the abandoned automobile.

A little more annoyed, you take a breath, shake your head as something wet hits your cheek and you instantly look up because the sky didn't look like rain at all when you started running.

And it still doesn't.

Nevertheless, your heart stops for a beat.

Cold seems to consume you from within, makes you pull your coat tighter.

Up there, above you, fixed between branches, the lifeless eyes of the man who was supposed to help you escape stare back at you. His arms hang twisted above him and his legs are missing entirely. In the darkness, suffused with moonlight, you can only make out the bitter facts. And one of them is death.

“Do you like it?”

Instantly you suck in the air sharply, turning around in an instant only to catch sight of Hisoka. Leaning relaxed against a tree, he shuffles his cards as if nothing has happened. “I thought we had decided that you would wait in the hotel room. Where were you going with that man at such a late hour?”

His gaze lifts so that his amber eyes can look at you, while his features wait in a lack of enthusiasm for answers. You don't know if he's angry, but his expression seems to threaten you.

“I-I... I wanted to...” What do you want to say anyway? You don't know yourself what exactly you wanted other than to just get away from him for too many things that seem wrong. “Away.”

“Where to?”, Hisoka inquires, pushing himself off the trunk and coming closer. The cards disappear into the pockets of his white trousers in the same blink.

“Just... away,” you counter, unable to look at him any further because his eyes seem to look right down into your core.

“From me?” He pauses in front of you. “Why?”

Again your attention jerks to him and you hate the fact that he is wearing heels because it only makes him taller than he already is.

“You... are... constricting me.”

“Is that so?” The almost biting undertone in his voice is frightening. But you don't have time to think of what his next move might be as he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look at him very closely. His grip is so tight around your jawbone as he does so that you panic he might break it.

Then he leans towards you, breathes such a gentle kiss on your lips that, along with fear, terrible warmth rises up inside you. Your heart races wildly, but you don't know if it's the fear or the longing. Seeing him like this, knowing he is so close to you, is cruel because you love him, don't want to leave him, but don't want to see either of you die either.

The mere thought of losing him, or not being good enough anymore, knots your stomach as your vision blurs and the sobs in your throat quietly spill out.

Hisoka watches this rection, loosening his grip around your chin and running his thumb over your lips. A little like he wants more words from you. And you can't help but give them to him in a gush.

“I love you, Hisoka. I really do. But this can't work.” You have to swallow to keep from breaking into a raspy cough. “You lock me up like I'm your pet and you're messing with people who might kill you one day.” The first tear rolls down your cheeks unintentionally, making you wipe it away in frustration because you don't want to seem like an effeminate damsel in distress. “You're going to kill yourself because of me. And if not for that, then one day you'll just throw me away because you're not a man for life. And I'm afraid that by then I'll love you so much that I won't be able to stand it. So I was gonna let you go. And I can understand if you hate the decision, but isn't that the duality you love to talk about? Love and hate, both sides of the same coin? I-” Hisoka interrupts you as he takes your face in his hands and forcibly pulls you to him, far enough to force you onto your toes to press a kiss to your lips. A warm touch full of affection so gentle it takes your breath away.

Then he lets go of you, remains close in front, but his features are adorned with a friendly smile that makes him a little suspicious, while his hand caresses your cheek. As he does so, he brushes your lower eyelid, collecting another tear that was about to escape.

The tenderness he has for you irritates you so much that every one of your brain cells shuts down for a breath before Hisoka focuses on you again, piercing you with a blank stare. The atmosphere between you grows heavier.

“You think too much about nothingness, love.” His voice is so soft that it seems almost deadly at the same time. “And because you're like that, I'm going to let you get away with it for today.” He leans down to your ear, licks once over the shell with the tip of his tongue. “But if you run away again, I will kill you.”

“H-Hisoka...” You don't know what you can say to appease him. Nothing seems good enough. But Hisoka understands, straightening up to look at you again, putting on that playful smile he goes through life with. “Or I can put you in chains so I can have you with me for the rest of my life. Whichever option you like better.”

He tilts his head, looking at you with mockery and at the same time with a barely perceptible commitment so that you can feel the blush on your cheeks. On one hand, he's making a fool of you, on the other, he's conveying in his own unique way that he's sure he wants you for himself – forever.

He can't stay mad at you for long, can't even punish you for your terrible action, just takes you as you are, as if he has a weakness for all your stupid words and your troubled feelings.

And in those seconds you know that he loves you no less than you love him.

[Picture from a card collecting game]

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[theadventurek9]

One day I’ll start posting dog stuff again. I need to start getting more serious with training for our September trials if I’m going to do them. But I’m honestly having doubts if I will. I just don’t really have money for entry fees. If I really wanted to I could just enter one class instead of our usual four a day. Yet the whole finances thing makes me feel so deeply sad and frustrated.

I feel like that’s a big part of why I haven’t been really training anything because what’s the point. Instead we’ve just been hiking or playing. I know Aayla craves training but I just don’t have it in me. I felt frustrated after this last fenzi course, I think a lot of it just highlighted holes in our training than actually helped with any training.

I had those hopes Aayla could get her RAE, RM and UD titles this year but now it all just feels hopeless. My partner and I are living paycheck to paycheck and it’s stressful.

Yet then again I feel so guilty because the things we can’t pay for are the fun life things. We do have enough for all of our basic needs. I was able to get the car fixed, we eat decently good for every meal and we have a home that we don’t have to share with others. We both have been able to afford our basics for our expensive hobby. Yet there really isn’t anything left over.

Our collective mental health is hanging on by a string and it seems we just switch between who is having a break. We have been trying to have our yearly nice date night, but haven’t been able to scrape the extra cash together for it. So we kind of just skipped our two year anniversary. We want to be able to go to the movies, or overnight camping trips out of our hometown or just enjoy life moderately.

I’ve been scraping by my entire life. Im making the most I’ve ever made, and yet with inflation I still am paycheck to paycheck. I’m so sick of it.