#like my dad just stole my moms phone AGAIN to text me some BULLSHIT

[adustoflove]

No one understands guilt better than a girl with emotionally immature parents

[lyssismagical]

just for a moment in love

Parkner {And minor Thompsborn} Febufluff Day 23-26 - Secret Admirer, Love Triangle, Confessions, and Forbidden

Read on AO3

*

It’s a month into the school year when all the drama of the summer finally catches up to him.

Peter sighs loudly like he’s purposefully trying to get May’s attention for his sullen behaviour. He even collapses onto the couch dramatically, arm tossed over his eyes, and sighs again.

May laughs, soft and gentle as she moves around the kitchen behind him. “Not that I’m laughing at you, honey, but what’s up with you? Something happen? Does it have anything to do with why I haven’t seen Harley around here for weeks?”

Sighing again, Peter tries his best not to let the heartache return. “Yeah… We broke up last month. Before I left.”

There’s a gasp in the kitchen followed by a crash as she drops a pan on the counter, and then she’s sitting down on the couch by his feet.

“You broke up? Oh, honey, what happened?”

“I told him I loved him,” Peter explains quietly, huffing out a third sigh. “And he said okay and then he left. And then I had to leave and I didn’t have Wi-Fi at the camp, so I couldn’t even try to figure out what happened.”

Peter had this fancy Nerd Camp over the summer, Tony signed him up for. It was incredible and Peter had a lot of fun, he learned a lot, but it was hard to focus with Harley weighing on his mind.

Not to mention Flash had been there.

“He just left?”

“Yeah. He didn’t even tell me why. If he didn’t love me or if something was up or if I did something… I don’t know. He just walked out, said it would be better if we called it quits before I left for three weeks.”

May offers a sympathetic smile, rubbing his ankle. “I’m guessing there’s more to this story?”

Sighing again, Peter finally lifts his arm from over his eyes, looking over at May. “Yes… I may or may not have started seeing somebody new.”

May’s head tips to the side, eyes hardening. “You’re seeing somebody new? One month after your three-year-relationship ended?”

“Flash was at camp with me and he was, you know, nice. He made sure I was doing alright, and he was being a good guy, so I kinda just jumped on new opportunities.”

“And, what? You’re regretting it? You still miss Harley? You realized it was impossible to throw a three-year relationship down the drain for a new guy who’s been kinda mean to you for years?”

Peter rolls his eyes, knowing she’s right. More right than he’d like to admit, but he doesn’t want to want Harley anymore. Harley broke his heart.

He laid everything out on the line with the big L-word and Harley broke up with him for it. Peter would’ve been fine had Harley just explained.

“I like him,” Peter argues. “Flash is a good guy.”

May doesn’t make the obvious statement of but not as good as Harley. Instead, she says, “Good for you, but don’t throw away a twelve-year friendship over this, alright? You were best friends before you ever started dating. Try to sort this out, okay?”

Peter reaches for his phone, prepared to text Harley already, see if he wants to talk, but his pockets are empty, phone missing.

He assumes he left it in his bedroom or maybe in his bag, and instead curls up against May’s side and letting her pick the movie.

In the morning, he’d have to try to put himself together for another day of school, being Flash’s boyfriend, ignoring Cassie’s glares, trying not to dwell on Harley’s red-rimmed eyes, and focusing on schoolwork.

For now, he could pretend like everything was fine and dandy, curled up with May on their old couch, and forget that Harley was missing from their family movie nights.

* Betty’s the one who clues him in at lunch the next day when he still can’t find his phone.

“Listen, I wasn’t supposed to tell you, Brad made me swear I’d keep it a secret for just one more day, and you know how much I hate going against stuff that he says, but I saw Flash with your phone,” she says when Peter complains that he can’t find it.

“What?”

“Yours is the one with the sparkly Iron Man case, right?” Betty asks, tapping her fork against her plate incessantly. “Yeah, I saw Flash with it in second period. He’s in the gym with Brad, if you wanna go talk to him.”

Peter gets up and heads to the gym, ignoring MJ and Ned asking if he wants them to go with him or to not do anything stupid.

“Hey, babe!” Flash calls out, jogging over. He leans to kiss Peter, but Peter ducks out of the way, glaring at Flash.

“No, not happening. You stole my phone?”

The reaction is instant, face falling and shoulders slumping. “You found out?”

“Yeah, I found out! What was so important that you had to steal my phone instead of talking to me about it?”  

“Let’s not do this here,” Flash murmurs, glancing over his shoulder at Brad.

“No, I’m not going to let you pretend this all okay. What’s going on?”

Flash sighs and scrubs a hand harshly over his face. “I had to delete a voicemail.”

“Who was the voicemail from? Why was it so important that I didn’t see it?”

Flash sighs angrily and grabs Peter’s elbow. “It was from Harley, whining about how much he misses you or some bullshit. You didn’t need to hear it.”

“Are you really that insecure that you think I’m just going to up and leave you because Harley asks for me back?”

“No, I’m just upset that he thinks that it’s okay to try anything while you’re mine.”

“I’m not yours, you asshole!” Peter jerks his arm away from Flash. “I’m not anybody’s property! And definitely not yours after all this bullshit.”

Flash’s jaw clenches. “You’re seriously breaking up with me? Over a stupid voicemail?”

“I’m breaking up with you because you’re being an asshole, Flash!” Peter exclaims, glaring at his ex. “If you really cared, you would trust me enough not to take my fucking phone.”

Flash pulls the phone out of his pocket, Iron Man phone case sparkling insultingly. “Then take it. Go running back to Harley. See if I give a shit.”

Peter takes his phone back, doesn’t bother arguing any further, and turns out of the gym. He makes it all the way to his locker before he breaks down in tears, angrily wiping them away even as they continue to fall.

It’s just his luck, isn’t it?

* He’s at home, listening to May bustle about the apartment from his bed, trying to bring up the courage to call Harley or maybe Ned or even MJ, just to try to think things through, when there’s a knock on the door.

May opens it and he hears her talking quietly to somebody.

Peter listens as the door shuts again, and then there’s a knock on his bedroom door.

“It’s open!” he calls out, sitting up.

And then Harley walks in.

“Oh my god,” Peter says stupidly. Because holy shit Harley’s got the worst black eye Peter’s ever seen and he’s crying.

“I know- I know we’re not together anymore. I know I fucked this up and I’m sorry, but I just- I needed a place to stay and I- I didn’t know where else to go.”

Peter scrambles to his feet. “Are you okay? What happened? Cassie said you were going through a rough time, but I- I don’t know.”

“My dad’s back,” Harley breathes, sitting down on Peter’s bed, shoulders slumping miserably. “And my mom just wants to forgive him. After everything he did to us. How fast he just left, all those years ago.”

“Did he….” Peter doesn’t know if he’s allowed to ask that kind of question, but Harley laughs coldly.

“Nah,” he says, fingers running over the bruise. “That was Flash. My fault, really. I went after him, calling him some nasty names after I saw you crying in the hallway. I provoked him and he snapped. Don’t really blame him.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he freezes in confusion, silent.

Harley shrugs. “Know I shouldn’t have. Know you’re not mine anymore, but you’re still my best friend and he hurt you.”

There’s obvious hesitation in his movements as he sits down on his bed beside Harley, but at the end of the day, they’re still best friends. And his best friend is hurting.

“Is there anything I can do?” Peter offers.

Harley’s face falls a bit, wiping at his eyes again. He sniffles and glances over at Peter, red-rimmed blue eyes filled with some sort of unexplainable emotion. “I could really go for some hot chocolate? Maybe a movie? I just- I know we’re not what we used to be, but if you could just… hold me?”

Something inside Peter cracks at the quiet question, irreparably broken. “Yeah, of course. You get comfy, and I’ll be right back.”

That night, tucked together in Peter’s bed, blankets pulled tight around their shoulders, they both think about what used to be. A three-year relationship ended. Peter regrets saying the L-word that day. Harley regrets not saying it. Neither of them says a word.

* They walk to school together when morning eventually rolls around, carefully making sure their hands don’t brush.

“So, your dad’s back, huh?” Peter starts, needing to start somewhere. The silence had gotten tense. Awkward. Which hadn’t ever happened between them in their long friendship.

“Yeah. It’s been over ten years since we’ve seen the guy, fucking gas station line and all, but he showed up two weeks ago, totally out of the blue, wanting to fix things. And, I mean, I get it, I do. He realized he fucked up. He realized he left his two kids and wife out of the blue, no explanation, but ten fucking years, and he thinks he can just waltz back into our life?”

Peter purposefully lets their elbows brush on the next step. “How’s Abbie taking it?”

“Better than I am,” Harley admits, shrugging. “She doesn’t remember him. Doesn’t remember the hell he put Mom through. She just knows that he’s sorry and that Mom’s already forgiven him. It’s like Mom’s forgotten the years after he left where we could barely get a meal on the table every night.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says because he isn’t quite sure what else to say.

Harley shrugs again, holding his chin high. It makes the sun sparkle wonderfully through his hair and in his eyes. “Yeah, I know I should give the guy a chance, but I can’t let him hurt us again. I can’t let him ruin Mom again. I’m just- I’m really fucking angry, and I couldn’t stand another dinner at home where everybody pretends things are how they were when we were little.”

“You can always stay with me. Door’s always open.”

And Harley smiles, openly and genuine for the first time in a long time.

“Hey!” somebody calls out, jogging towards them, effectively cutting them off.

Harley takes a protective step in front of Peter like he’s the one with the superpowers.

“What do you want, Flash?” Harley demands, voice low and cold. “I think Peter made it clear yesterday to leave him alone.”

“I just want to talk,” Flash says, lifting his hands in surrender. “Listen, I know I made a mistake, and I’m not asking for you back, I think we’re both aware what we had was a rebound, at best, but I wanted to make things right. Give you an explanation.”

“Yeah?” Peter asks, forever the forgiving, kind person. He moves to stand beside Harley, offering a reassuring smile. Flash’s lip is split, healing, knuckles bruised.

Flash nods, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. “I’ve had this huge crush on a guy for as long as I can remember, but his parents know my parents, and there’s a lot of bad blood. I was being stupid, thinking I could ever be with him, but I would leave him letters in his locker every day.”

“Romeo and Juliet style bad blood?”  

“Yeah, but hopefully it doesn’t end the same for us,” Flash says, laughing nervously. “I really like him, but our parents would kill us if anything ever happened between us, so I tried to pretend I was into dating you, even if I like somebody else.”

Peter goes to call him out, that it’s not fair, but it’s pretty obvious that Peter did the same if Harley, standing next to Peter, wearing Peter’s sweater, smelling like Peter’s home, says anything.

“So?” Harley asks.

“So, I’m sorry,” Flash says, frowning. “I’m sorry I hurt both of you because my head’s so messed up right now, but I want to be friends with you both. I want to make things right.”

Peter offers a smile. “Yeah, of course. I just wish there was something I could do to help with you and Harry.”

“Harry? How’d you know?” Flash’s eyes widen, jaw-dropping. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean we all kinda thought you were already a thing for a while,” Harley admits, lifting an eyebrow. “You both stare at each other all day, and I heard Harry reading out a love letter sent to him by you.”

“I signed them anonymously.”

“And somehow, Harry still knew it was you,” Peter says. “I think, fuck what your parents think, fuck what his parents think, do what you want. It’s your happiness that matters.”

Flash nods, smiling at them. “Even if it’s cursed? Like tragic Romeo and Juliet, forbidden love story?”

Harley shrugs, pushing Flash’s shoulder encouragingly. “Of course. Go get your man, Thompson.”

Grinning, Flash takes off towards the school, obvious excitement in his steps. It’s the start of a friendship, a strange one at that, but a friendship nonetheless.

“You think they’ll get their happy ending?” Harley asks, leaning into Peter as they start walking again, it feels more right to walk shoulder-to-shoulder not awkwardly spaced out like they didn’t know how to walk together anymore.

Peter shrugs. “I think they deserve it, Mister Stark’s mentioned things about the Osborns and the Thompsons, if anything, they deserve each other.”

Nodding, Harley looks over at Peter, head tipping to the side. “Do you think we will ever get our happy ending?”

It brings unwanted feelings back. How Peter felt alone in his room after Harley disappeared on him, mumbling about taking a break and leaving Peter’s L-word unanswered.

Peter swallows thickly, not ready to let go of what they had, what he still wants, but not prepared to dive straight in like the past two months hasn’t happened.

“I hope so.” * Harley stays over again that night, saying that he’s not ready to see his family yet.

Peter missed Harley, missed the way Harley offers to cook for May and teases Peter relentlessly in the kitchen for inheriting May’s awful cooking, missed the way Harley slings his arm over the back of Peter’s chair in the dining room, making easy conversation with May. He missed the way Harley always finds an excuse to be close to Peter, missed how Harley looks right sitting on his couch, socked feet up on the old coffee table, grinning from ear to ear and making stupid teasing comments.

He missed Harley.

And it’s obvious May had been missing Harley’s presence around the apartment, something that had been a constant since Harley’s family moved in a few blocks away and they met at the park between their apartments, best friends since then.

Later that night, after May excuses herself to bed for an early shift the next morning, after the TV’s muted and conversation picks up just how it’s meant to after Peter gets a call from Flash shouting about how Harry said yes to a date, and after Peter gets a call from Harry reiterating the same thing, the conversation turns to the big question: Why.

“You know I didn’t want to break up with you,” Harley says like it’s meant to be obvious, but he catches Peter’s eyebrows creasing and his mouth dropping into a confused frown. “You didn’t know that?”

“No. I thought- I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t know why you left that night because you wouldn’t talk to me,” Peter says, sitting up properly on the couch.

Harley frowns, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t want to leave like that.”

“Then why? Why’d you leave like that?” Peter’s voice comes out wobbly and quiet, and Harley’s face falls, guilt immediately shining in his eyes.

“You have to understand that words like that don’t mean anything to me anymore,” Harley starts, hands fiddling with his shirt. “When my dad left, he said he loved my mom and that he’d be back in an hour, and only showed up now, ten years later. The kind of I Love You’s I know are the kind tossed around when you feel guilty or when you want something from someone, not because you love them.”

Peter freezes because that’s the opposite of how he grew up. He grew up with Richard and Mary keeping I Love You’s for the moments that mattered most like they had to keep the meaning there, so they saved it for moments of pure Love.

May and Ben were different. They shared I Love You’s like it was the only words in the dictionary. Good Morning, I Love You. Good Night, I Love You. Goodbye, I Love You. The words still meant everything, but they didn’t think that they’d ever run out of chances to say it.

“When you said that, I panicked.” Harley looks over at Peter like he’s desperate for him to understand. “Because I don’t know what that means. I don’t- I don’t get words. They don’t mean the same thing to me as they do to you.”

But it’s obvious that Harley does love Peter. Maybe not in spoken words, but in actions, in meaning. He walks three blocks out of his way just to walk Peter to and from school every day. He has protein bars under his bed and in his locker and in his backpack, just in case Peter needs an extra snack. He looks at Peter like he hung the stars. He remembers everything there is to know about Peter, his favourite colour, his favourite animals, all of his fears, every story Peter’s ever told.

“Oh,” Peter says because his brain is caught in a loop of big words and bigger actions.

“Oh,” Harley echoes, a smile touching his mouth in a way that crinkles the corners of his eyes and shows off the dimples in his freckled skin.

Peter nods and takes Harley’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “I think I get it.”

“You think?”

“Is it okay that I love you?”

And Harley’s smile widens, lifting Peter’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Yeah, it’s good, it’s nice. I like hearing it and I do love you, but I’m not good at saying it.”

“So you show it,” Peter finishes, leaning forward to press a kiss to Harley’s cheek. “That’s okay too, I don’t need to hear it to know it.”

“Does that mean we’re okay? We can go back to how we were? Because, I’ll admit, I missed you and I missed this.”

Peter nods, kissing the corner of Harley’s mouth. “We’re okay.”

* Tony hosts a dinner at the Tower a few weeks later, after Harley talks to him about the problems he’s having trusting his dad and after Peter mentions how bad he feels that Flash and Harry’s relationship has to be kept a secret, that all of their dates consist of sneaking out in the middle of the night.

May and Peter, the four Keener’s, Flash and Harry, Tony and Pepper, all gather for some sort of strange family dinner.

Flash and Harry are allowed to be affectionate without worrying about being caught, Harley’s allowed to express his concerns without fear of breaking up his newly reformed family, Harley’s dad is able to apologize properly.

“The important thing is,” Tony says, smiling around at them. “Family is more than just blood, it’s who you choose to surround yourselves with, and I’d say, we make a pretty happy family.”

[loftec]

Hi i don't know if anyone haven't ask you about it or i'm the only one who wants to read it but CAN YOU PLEASE SHARE YOUR NOTES (ch.44) i don't know if you were serious about that but i really would love to read them cause i'm obsessed with everything what is ntw related 🖤 hope ur well

Hi friend! It’s possibly just you (or one other person, in case of separate anons) but that is enough! I was absolutely serious. 

Note on the notes! This is not all of it, because my notes for this chapter were often repetitive and very messy, and some older notes were from four years ago when I didn’t bother writing things out properly, so they barely make sense even to me. But! I’ve done my best to sort everything in some kind of linear order, and removed most of the repetition. And, well, you asked for it... sorry! 🖤

Ian shows up in the morning, Mickey digs out the magazine Iggy stole from Amelia’s dentist’s office the other day and confronts Ian about the big-ass article in Rolling Stone about IAN’S BAND, says he’s listened to some of their songs, takes out a paper where he’s written down some lyrics that sound strangely familiar.

You’re famous!

I’m in a band, people know about us right now, tomorrow they might not. I’m not famous.

You’re kinda famous.

Ian talks about Mickey recognizing him because of Frank. Hints that there might be several songs inspired by Mickey. It’s awkward as fuck, didn’t want you to know.

Were you ever gonna tell me?

Oh yeah, I had a plan. 3 dates, dinner and a movie, day out with Yev, dinner at my place turned vigorous love-making. Second prong; cohabitation, engagement, marriage, then on our wedding night I tell you about crushing on Justin Timberlake when I was 12,

then I tell you I’m semi-famous, if it still applies.

Mickey thinks his face might be on fire.

What the?

I’m fucking with you, Mick. Figured you already knew.

This again?

You angry?

No, I’m not fucking angry. Just-

Freaked out.

Kinda, yeah.

You shouldn’t be. Please.

It’s weird that I didn’t know, I feel like a schmuck. (And I’m pretty sure by your count we’ve already been on those first two dates.)

I’m sorry. I thought you knew and by some fucking miracle didn’t treat me different. I’d been gearing up to maybe have to have this conversation on our date, ‘cause it’s shit sometimes, you know? I don’t do interviews and I never talk about myself when I gotta do them, but there’s still a limelight and a lot of bullshit that complicates

I’ve been crushing on you since we met basically, and I thought I’d just… let it run its course, keep my mouth shut about it and deal until it went away and we could remain friends without me fucking it up.

Didn’t work, by the way.

Good.

Mickey is talking about it with Etch, who suggests that Ian’s been writing at the diner for a reason.

Etch looks up some lyrics and Mickey caps locks them to Ian

You might have inspired a few lately…

Fuck off. How many?

Since we met? Pretty much all of them.

Maybe one or two made it on to the album, but I wrote those before we really got to know each other so they’re just like… about moments, and how I would feel around you.

Didn’t think of it as creepy but it kinda sounds that way now.

No it’s fine

I won’t do it again.

Said it’s fine. Kinda like it.

Yeah?

You gonna tell me which ones are about me, or is that a secret too?

What are you doing tonight?

Thought you said you were going on tour?

We are, it starts tonight. It’s a small fan club gig here in Chicago.

You have a fan club?

Kinda. I’ll put you on the guest list if you want to come.

(Mickey calls Svetlana to make sure Yevgeny can stay with her over the weekend.)

It’s fine if you don’t want to, we’ll do something else when I get back.

Calm your tits Gallagher, course I wanna go. Needed to make sure I’ve got Yev covered.

Oh okay, good. You’re on the list. Doors at 7, gig starts at 8, no support.

You’ve got no chill.

(Ian doesn’t answer for a while)

I like it.

Good, that was torture. Never doing that again.

(Etch teases him about having his nose in his phone, and makes him aware of new guests arriving)

Gotta get back to work

Yeah, me too. See you tonight?

No chill at all.

Ian invites him to the concert and gives Mickey his phone number. Mickey makes sure Yevgeny stays with his mom on saturday, and after work he goes home and gets ready. Showers and cleans himself thoroughly, puts on cologne and a band t-shirt he hasn’t worn in ages, it’s gotten kinda tight on him since he got it. (He puts on a dress shirt first, tucks it into his pants and glares at his reflection).

He’s on the guest list when he gets there, the girl in the box office can’t find him at first but then Anne shows up and points him out, he’s on the VIP list and gets a pass that he’s told he needs to carry so it’s visible. He makes a point of shoving it in the admission guy’s face, but then shoves the ostentatious thing down the pocket of his jeans. Anne shows him in and tells him about the gig, about how the fan club got started. Anne says he can go backstage but he says he’ll pass, thank you. He gets a beer and finds a good spot, there’s a balcony halfway through the venue where he’s got a perfect view of the stage without having to stand in the front.

They text a little, Mickey says he’s there and Ian says he’ll make a sign when they play a song inspired by him.

run-through of the concert, Ian touches the side of his nose when the song is about Mickey. He’s sexy as fuck, and has some ridiculous stripper moves.

He takes off his hoodie at some point, and sweating through his tank he and Anne put on gloves and start hitting the barrels with crowbars.

Anne is the maestro, maybe Ian crowd surfs at some point? Warren Ellis that violin, man. He has little routines with Anne, and some with Jon too. One song, Anne gets one of his guitars and he does noisy stuff with his violin and plays on the oil barrels with Stran, completely in sync.  

They got some good stage banter going, and at some point Ian does a Tom Waits impression, and Anne groans and says he’ll sing the whole thing if they’re not careful. There’s a reason why he’s

For the encore, Ian touches the side of his nose and they start playing a song, Anne saying that this is a first. It looks like Ian is about to sing, but then it looks like he changes his mind and they start playing a song that Mickey sure as fuck hope isn’t about him. The insufferable man on a date right next to Mickey tells the woman he’s with that they were about to play the mysterious title track from their last album that never ended up on the record

“it’s derivative, but cute”

how can it be a title track if it’s not on the album

the guy talks about how he’s got a friend working as an engineer in the studio and he’s sent him an early demo version. It’s not their best song by far, but it’s cool that pretty much no one else has heard it.

Mickey asks the girl if she’s ok with this joker, and she says she’s fine. He offers to get her a cab or something, if she wants to get out of there.

She says she’s not interested

Lady, if I wanted to get with either of you, it wouldn’t be you. Just sayin, I ain’t picky, but that guy would’ve gotten the boot ten minutes into the date if he were here with me, no offense.

WHAT IF.

The concert is over, and crowd starts to let up. Then a fight breaks out at the front and Mickey makes his way towards it. It’s over before he gets there, and sees a guy in his 40s with a bleeding nose, and Lip shaking out his fist, a security guard between them.

Mickey talks to the guard and defuses the situation, putting the bleeding man in the position of a sad overzealous fan. It somehow warms Lip to him, absurdly, and he finds himself apologized to, Lip shaking his hand and wincing when Mickey grips his bruised knuckles a little too hard. Lip vaguely explains that that was an old ex of Ian’s, a real piece of work, and then offers Mickey to come backstage with them to see Ian. Mickey declines.

It’s Lip, Carl and Debbie (Liam is too young, and Fiona too pregnant).

“I was drunk, and wrong, and when I’m wrong I say I’m wrong. (IT’S FROM DIRTY DANCING YOU LITERALLY FORGET EVERY TIME AND HAVE TO GOOGLE IT WHENEVER READING THIS NOTE should I really be quoting Baby’s dad in this fic? Probably. If anyone can, it’s Lip.) And Ian tells me you’ve been there for him a lot lately

I wouldn’t say that

But he did, he doesn’t tell me a lot these days, but he told me that.

Mickey gets another beer at the bar as people mill towards the merch and exit, he sits on a stool with an eye on the backstage passage. He watches the band come out to talk to some of the lingering fans and sign shit. Ian comes out and is immediately surrounded by fans, he locks eyes with Mickey across the room and Mickey raises his beer in a silent cheers. Ian comes up to him after a few minutes, he looks damp and exhilarated and unexpectedly nervous,

How was it?

Not bad, Gallagher.

he asks Mickey over. He has to pack up his shit and do the rounds, but he’ll be done in half an hour, tops. Mickey says he’ll meet him outside.

Ian leaves and Mickey finishes his beer, watching Ian talk to some fans, signing shit and taking pictures. He goes for a piss and then goes out for a smoke.

Ian comes out after twenty minutes, carrying two guitar cases and a large wheelie-bag. Mickey takes one of the guitars off his hands and they walk together.

(maybe Ian has a banjo and he gives it to Mickey to carry and Mickey is all really? I wanna kick your ass so bad right now, country boy, but then carries it anyway.) (banjos are cool)

Walk from the club. Mickey mentions talking to Lip. They talk about Ian’s Tom Waits impression. You’re not musically illiterate at all! Talk about Mickey’s Radiohead tee that he stole from a hookup when he was sixteen, he’s grown into it now. Talk about Ian’s onstage dancing, used to be a stripper, well, not saying you can’t still do private performances (?? you know what I mean! this is not what they’re saying but you’ll remember it) (Note from 2020: I DID NOT REMEMBER IT.)

Talk about wanting to learn playing the trumpet. Don’t have trumpet playing lips.

”Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to, I believe in you.”

Looks at Mickey and smiles.

”What?”

”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

”Maybe.”

”Huh”

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” “Just re-evaluating everything you’ve ever said to me.”

”Re-evaluate this;” gives Ian the finger.

”That an invitation?”

”Fuck you is what it is,”

“sounds like an invitation.”

Ian tells him a little about his different instruments, Mickey picks up the beat up guitar Gus first gave to Ian and strums it, Ian asks him to play him something but Mickey snorts and says he’s counting on getting laid tonight and him playing would be detrimental to that plan. Ian doesn’t think so, but accepts it when Mickey gives him the guitar.

”I’ve walked some thousand miles,” he starts softly, eyes on his left hand, moving over the strings, ”I have slept many hundred nights, and people’ve said hello and bye through the years since you were mine. But don’t think I’ll stop my mourning, don’t I know it’s overdue. Just because I’ve gotten older, none the wiser I cry for you.”

”Honey, cutie, sweetie-pie,” ”My darling boy, sweet old times, as long as I keep you in mind I will remember what love is like. So, don’t think I’ll stop my mourning, don’t I know it’s overdue.”

”Just because I’ve gotten older, none the wiser.”

”I cry for you.”

I’M THINKING OF WRITING MY OWN SONG BECAUSE I WAS THIS MOMENT TO BE MORE BEFORE SUNSET THAN ANYTHING, ALL SMILES AND DRAMA FREE. SO MAYBE A TEXT THAT IS A LITTLE MORE STRAIGHTFORWARD.

Ian plays the song and when he’s done, Mickey kisses him and they have really enthusiastic sex on the couch. Mickey is about to leave after when Ian invites him to stay,

How about some long-ass foreplay on the couch and then they move into the bedroom.

They start on the couch, they take it to the bedroom, they collapse on the bed after and Mickey is feeling too good to argue when Ian mumbles at him to “stay”.

(Sings the song, says it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a song, it’s one quick thought put under a spotlight. Feeling like he should have known Mickey his whole life already. It’s too much, isn’t it? In the kitchen.

”do you normally take guys home and serenade them?”

”nah, don’t think it’d be very effective with most.”

”But you figured I’d swoon?”

”Figured you’d want the truth.”

”which is?”)

??? Need to find a good mix of excitement and new and easy, balanced with ho shit wtf are we doing this isn’t going to end well i think i fucking love him shut the fuck up. needs to be sexy and a little rough, as well as painfully sincere against better knowledge. kissing will do that. they’re doing stuff the way they usually do stuff, but for some reason it feels completely different.

Important that Mickey kisses him.

They stand up and stand chest to chest, Ian says they don’t have to do anything, Mickey says shut up and get naked

he helps ian take his shirt off and kisses him the second his face comes back into view

They fucks on the couch.

OR ALT FADE CUT END and don’t go explicit. Just saying, it’s an option. A valid option.

They can go at it in one of the sequels? Like the roadtrip can be more explicit? If I want? But also not?

I mean, there is such a thing as a nice middle ground right.

I just don’t think I’m interested in going all out porn after 40+ chapters of whatever.

THEY KISS AND THEN THERE’S A MOTHERFUCKING FADE TO BLACK MY FRIEND, BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I HAVE DECIDED. Soz

WHAT IF!!

Iggy comes in, is all: guess what I found at the dentist this morning?

M: again? Did Amelia break another tooth?

I: It’ll grow back, take a look at this

E: Did you steal that from the dentist’s office?

M: Rolling Stone, wtf?

E: your dentist’s got rolling stone?

Mickey reads the headlines out loud as a customer comes in and asks Etch about something they’ve lost the other day, and Etch starts rifling through boxes behind the counter as Mickey moves over to sit down in Ian’s booth, rifling through the magazine.

M: what am I looking for?

I: I marked the page

E: what’s this note?

Mickey starts reading the article, realizing that the blurred picture is of Ian, and the interview is with Ian, and holy shit. Ian is legit famous.

Etch starts reading the list of coffees, eventually turning the page over and pointing out that there’s a phone number.

Iggy comes to the diner in the morning, Etch is rifling through stuff behind the counter and Mickey is doing the rounds with the few guests still there after the morning rush.

Iggy shows him the magazine he found at the dentist’s and Etch is in the background like wtf is this, reading from Ian’s note with the coffee orders, Mickey only half listens, trying to take in the fact that Ian is fucking famous.

Etch says there’s a phone number too and Mickey brushes him off.

Then he’s like, hold the fuck up! And gets the note from the trash and tries the number, and Ian fucking answers. And they have the you’re famous conversation on the phone and voila, Mickey has his number and vice versa.

So Mickey calls Ian in the morning, then there’s text talk during the day.

From Ian

So, you’ve had my number for x days and you only now decided to use it?

That’s cold.

From Mickey

You wrote it on a piece of paper you then balled up and threw on the floor, asshole, it’s a miracle it didn’t end up in the trash. didn’t know I had it until this morning.

You suck at this. (This is a nice revelation that he likes, but Maybe that doesn’t come across in text.

Not a complaint btw, just gleeful observation.

From Ian

Are we still on?

From Mickey

Of course.

Dumbass.

Ian

I probably deserved that.

At some point Mickey starts capslocking and sending lyrics to Ian, who has to explain through text why he’s written songs about Mickey, saying that he’ll point them out tonight.

HERE’S A QUESTION

SHOULD I SKIP THE WHOLE “WRITING SONGS ABOUT MICKEY” BUSINESS??

Isn’t it enough that Ian is famous and kept this fact from Mickey? Isn’t the writing songs business a little creepy? and if he did write songs about Mickey, would he really publish them without Mickey’s consent? No. Maybe I’m deliriously tired and about to fall ill right now, but I actually think I should skip that part. It’s a little sad because it’s been part of this idea for three years, but if I’m uncertain about it now imagine how I’m going to feel about it later?

When I started writing this story, it was supposed to be a quick and silly thing, and now it’s something else. It’s not important or anything, but also it is. To me. And making a decision on the rating was a big deal for me, and I think this is another one of those things. I’ve been holding on to this idea for so long but when I really think about it, is it even romantic? It’s romantic in that kind of teenage dream way, maybe? It’s more romantic to me if they fall in love for reasons other than Ian writing songs. But he’s written NTW, and he still thinks about performing it live, but we skip the whole thing about songs being about Mickey.

So they talk on the phone in the morning, and then there’s a text coming in after a little while asking if Mickey wants to come to the show.

HEYHO IT’S A REVOLUTION AND I FEEL FREE

Mickey and Ian text after the show (after Mickey declines going backstage) Ian asks him to meet him round back in twenty minutes. When Mickey goes out there, he sees Ian talking to a couple of fans by the bus and Mickey hangs back to smoke while he waits. The fans leave and Ian looks around, checks his watch, he has a bunch of guitars with him.

I AM LEANING HEAVILY TOWARDS MICKEY KISSING IAN HERE. He’s like “Stop, hold this” giving Ian back the guitar, so he can grab on to him and kiss him, smiling against Ian lips as the guitar tips over and clatters against the asphalt.

They’re outside Ian’s house, Ian says he has to get up at an unholy hour tomorrow. Invites him in anyway.

They’re in the elevator, then they’re in Ian’s apartment. Ian plays him the song, Before sunset ending.

almost none of that rhymed, just letting you know. kinda embarrassing.

(almost none of that rhymed, just letting you know. kinda embarrassing.

yeah, it’s not a very good song. is why we cut it from the record

oh yeah? thought it was ‘cause of the like, intensely personal subject

that too)

They smile at each other like fools and Mickey feels like he is exactly where he’s supposed to be, and there’s no rush. Fade to black.

Etch finds the paper, says there’s a phone number on it. Mickey dials the number and goes out back as it rings out. When Ian answers, he reads a question from the interview and they talk.

He goes back into the diner and basically blows the whole thing off, it doesn’t make any difference to him and he has to go back to work. Yevgeny does his homework and Iggy leaves, and Ian invites Mickey to the gig via text. Etch invites Yevgeny to stay over at theirs for a movie night.

Does Mickey tell Yev about the gig?

Start with Mickey out back, smoking. The phone rings and he waits for Etch to take it, but it keeps ringing. He bangs the door and yells PHONE and then it stops ringing. He kills the cigarette and goes back inside. Etch is behind the counter talking on the phone and going through the lost and found, looking for whatever the caller has lost. Mickey clears a table. It’s afternoon. Etch hangs up but keeps going through stuff in the box, talking to Mickey, when Iggy comes in.

It’s maybe more like afternoon (?) when Iggy comes in and shows Mickey the magazine. He calls Ian and they have a quick conversation (he probably goes outside to have it, to escape his audience) and they establish that Ian is sorta famous. Then they text back and forth a little, until Ian invites him to the show.

Mickey calls Svet to arrange it so Yev can stay with her, and then accepts. He goes home after work to eat, have a shower and change out of his clothes. He wears the only band tee he owns, mostly because it’s funny and because it’s kinda tight and he doesn’t think he looks too bad in it (and a dress shirt is way too much for a concert not-date, not that he tried on a couple first. Then he does a little bit of cyberstalking only to find very little personal information and a lot of crazy fans. Maybe he watches a couple of music videos, but they’re all really weird cartoons so they give him nothing. They’re cool though, and guess the music’s alright, even though he doesn’t have a connection yet to it so it’s hard to tell if he likes it.

Yevgeny calls, because Mickey switched the days and he wants to know why. Mickey asks if he knows about the Broken Bells, and Yev’s like duh who doesn’t? And freaks out when Mickey tells him about Ian. He doesn’t tell him about the whole date situation though, just that he’s going to the concert. Maybe Yev asks for some merch.

Mickey takes an Uber to the venue, even though it’s not too far from the diner (but on the other side, so at least a 30 minute walk) and it seems like they’ve already started letting people in. He hangs back until the admissions office is clear and then tells the lady that he’s on some kinda guest list. She can’t find him, and he’s about to give up and go home when he sees a familiar figure in the background. He calls her Stay-puft first, but then also remembers that her name is Anne and calls her that too. She remembers him, and finds him on a different (VIP) list, the venue staff woman is embarrassed, but Anne is borderline flirting she’s so nice about the mistake. Mickey gets a pass that he’s supposed to keep around his neck, but he shows it to the guards and then tucks it down his back pocket. Anne shows him inside the venue and asks if he wants to come backstage and say hello, but he kindly declines.

He has a quick peruse of the merch table (he checks the CDs, and then sees a smaller table next to the merch with a guy handing out pins, Mickey talks to him and finds out that it’s “fan club” pins to commemorate the gig and Mickey asks if his VIP pass gets him one, it does, and then the guy asks if Mickey wants to sign up for the newsletter) and then gets a beer, before finding a good spot on the mezzanine floor. He’s got a balcony railing for support and beer holder, and he’s got an excellent view of the stage. The floor is filling up with people packing themselves against the front. He texts Ian saying he’s here and they text a little back and forth. He gets someone to watch his spot and goes to the restroom. There, he finds a kid getting cornered by a middle-aged man. The kid looks vaguely familiar and not older than sixteen. Mickey steps in and casually accuses the guy of creeping on a kid and the guy immediately backs off, the kid says thanks and that he’s eighteen (because it’s an 18+ gig) and Mickey says sure.

Getting back to his spot, There is a douchebag on a date behind him that he wants to move away from, but he doesn’t want to surrender his good spot. He decides to tune him out, he’ll hopefully shut up once the set starts. It’s just a couple of minutes after eight when the lights dim and a song comes on louder than before, and the band start coming out on the stage. Ian is wearing jeans and a hoodie, like he normally does, but he’s clean shaven and his normally smiling face is set in blank determination. Anne is the front person, and she commands the audience with the slightest gesture. It’s obvious that the venue is filled with old fans, they all know exactly what to do exactly when she asks them to do it. Ian’s got like four guitars and a whole lot of other shit around him, and he’s super focused on doing his stuff, but now and then he does little routines with Anne and Jon, and gets a big cheer for his occasional solos.

A few songs in, Ian gets up to stand on one of the oil barrels, and Anne starts banging on it with a crowbar. That’s when Mickey starts to really get into it. It’s cool, and it’s a lot harder than Ian made it out to be, but kind of theatrical at the same time. Ian is brilliant, even though he dances like an uncoordinated stripper.

There is banter between the songs, mainly between Anne and Stran (girl sure bangs those drums!) Anne starts banging one of the oil barrels again and Ian and Jon do a little step dance next to each other across the scene.

At some point Ian takes off his hoodie. He’s wearing a white tank and he’s already sweating through it. He gives his guitar to Anne and puts on gloves. Him and Stran do a little bant-y thing and then they start a new song by both banging the barrels in unison while Anne and Jon start playing (maybe Jon plays something else, like an electric piano or a marimba?). At the crescendo of the song, Ian takes out a baseball bat and goes to town on the barrel, sweat shining on his muscly arms and his wet hair flopping down his forehead.

They go off the stage, but come back when the crowd chants a song, stomping their feet and clapping their hands. Anne says they’ve got one more song for them, and they start playing. She moves away from the microphone and it looks for a second like Ian is going to step up and sing. Douchebag behind Mickey tells his date about an unreleased b-side to the last album. But then Ian steps back and says something to Stran, who nods and moves into a slightly different beat. Without blinking Anne, steps back up to the mic and sings the last song.

Some of the crowd lingers by the stage after the lights have gone back on, but most move towards the bar or the merch table. Mickey hangs back to watch the crew take down the stage, and the two oil barrels being handed over to someone in the audience, along with set lists and left-over picks. Walking down from the mezzanine floor to go look for the restrooms, a fight breaks out on the floor. Mickey immediately recognizes one of them as Lip and the other one as the creep from the bathroom, and intervenes by clearly positioning himself on Lip’s side and reminding the creep that he could get him in trouble, the creep backs off and agrees when Mickey tells the security guards it was an accident (in a way that isn’t obviously helpful, but in the end still makes sure that Lip isn’t hurt or arrested for punching a guy) (because he did, he punched a guy, who is thrown out by the guards after Mickey’s intervention). Lip, Carl, Debbie, and Liam is there, but it’s only Lip who knows who Mickey is. He hangs back to talk to Mickey while his siblings go backstage (and PROBABLY DOESN’T tell him a little bit about the guy being Ian’s ex, making it clear that Lip really doesn’t like him). He also apologizes to Mickey for last time. He asks if Mickey wants to go backstage, but Mickey declines. He’s decided earlier with Ian through text that he’ll wait for him and thinks it’s better to do it somewhere that isn’t backstage where he might get asked questions and have to talk to people who aren’t Ian.

He gets another beer and stands in the bar next to the merch, watching as Ian and the rest of the band come out to sign some stuff and shake hands. Ian still looks slightly damp from sweat, even though he’s obviously changed clothes and run a towel through his hair. Mickey wonders if his skin tastes like salt. He drinks his beer.

Ian comes up to him after a little while, asking well? (or texts him, which probably makes more sense? But I also want Mickey to see Ian post-show)

Not bad Gallagher, not bad at all.

Ian looks pleased and asks if Mickey wants to come over, even though Ian has an early morning. Mickey says yes and Ian asks him to wait until they’re done packing up.

Mickey finishes his beer, goes to the restroom (where he sees douchebag by the urinal) and then he goes outside to wait for Ian. (He talks to douchebag’s date and offers to get her a taxi before the guy comes out.) He smokes a cigarette, and before he knows it, Ian is by his side, carrying a fuck ton of guitars. They decide to walk, for some reason, talking on the way.

HEY

Ian says he’s got a car coming and they walk a little bit to where they’re getting picked up. They talk about trumpet lips and stuff and Mickey kisses him. They get interrupted by the car arriving, and Ian picks up his guitars and says “you coming?”

Fuck yes

They sit in silence in the car, but it’s a good one. Ian says

Lip told me what you did back there.

He didn’t tell you shit.

He did, told me you stepped in and stopped him from getting arrested

He was getting his ass kicked, someone had to help the guy

And Liam told me you got him out of a tough situation in the restroom

That was Liam? Some pedo’s creeping on a kid by the urinal, I’m not gonna stand by doing nothing.

You know that’s not what happened

Yeah, well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

He isn’t a pedo, and Lip would’ve beat the shit outta him if you hadn’t stepped in.

You defending this guy?

No, trying to say thanks.

You’re shit at it.

Thank you, Mickey

Better.

So… friend of yours.

No. (Ian isn’t forthcoming with the info)

Alright, whatever.

And he’s definitely not someone I wanna talk about, tonight.

(Ian is smiling at him, all the promise in the world in his eyes)

Fucking fair enough.

They arrive.

OR Ian joins Mickey outside and they stand around and talk

They talk about Ian’s Tom Waits impression. You’re not musically illiterate at all! Talk about Mickey’s Radiohead tee that he stole from a hookup when he was sixteen, he’s grown into it now. Talk about Ian’s onstage dancing, used to be a stripper, well, not saying you can’t still do private performances (?? you know what I mean! this is not what they’re saying but you’ll remember it)

Talk about wanting to learn playing the trumpet. Don’t have trumpet playing lips.

”Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to, I believe in you.”

Looks at Mickey and smiles.

”What?”

”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

”Maybe.”

”Huh”

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” “Just re-evaluating everything you’ve ever said to me.”

”Re-evaluate this;” gives Ian the finger.

”That an invitation?”

”Fuck you is what it is,”

“sounds like an invitation.”

That’s when a taxi pulls up and Ian walks toward it

Could use some help with these.

They ride in silence

They carry Ian’s instruments from the car, and Ian says something cute

Mickey’s like “Stop, hold this” giving Ian back the guitar, so he can grab on to him and kiss him, smiling against Ian lips as the guitar tips over and clatters on the asphalt.

They’re outside Ian’s house, Ian says he has to get up at an unholy hour tomorrow. Invites him in anyway.

There he asks Ian to play him something that other people don’t get to hear (mostly to be a cheeky monkey, but also because he wants it) and Ian plays him None the wiser.

I’ve walked a thousand miles to end up in your corner booth

Grinning idiot when you bitch, falling fool for your dirty mouth

Sitting on my busy hands when you swagger by and I say -

Hey waiter, pour some coffee in my cup and bring me my toast, before you fuck me up

I’ve been in some thousand fights and it’s clear that so have you, too

Faded threats and cigarettes, sharp glass polished by the sea

Wish you’d put your hands on me and make your feelings clear

Hey waiter

meet me ‘round the back door, tell me I’ve got it wrong and fuck me up some more

‘Cause I’ve fallen a thousand times but never felt this way before, like I should have met you long ago

Walked with you by my side and had your back through thick and thin

Sickness and health, come what may, and I say-

Hey waiter

pop the damn champagne

None the wiser

you fuck me up again

Hey waiter

tell me you’ll be mine

I’ll give you my life

and fuck you up in kind

I wish I was just a plain white shirt

then you could wear me off to work

and I’d be one of the things you keep close to your heart

soft white cotton wrapped around your heart

(Contrasts have faded now

but color still haunt my mind

And words ripped off from their lines

Make bitter tears flood my eyes

Don’t think I’ll stop my mourning

Don’t I know it’s overdue

Just because I’ve gotten older

None the wiser, I cry for you)

Honey, cutie, sweetie-pie

My darling boy, sweet old times

As long as I keep you in mind

I will remember what love is like

So, don’t think I’ll stop my mourning

Don’t I know it’s overdue

Just because I’ve gotten older

None the wiser, I cry for you

’Cause I always say ’I love you’

when I mean ’turn out the light’

And I say ’let’s run away’

when I just mean ’stay the night’

But the words you want to hear

you will never hear from me

I’ll never say ’happy anniversary’

Never stay to say ’happy anniversary’

Bom-chaka bom-chak 23 verses

And he climbed up a mountain

And he looked around

Some kind of forest

With all these dinosaurs

And he stripped his woman

He stripped her bare

But there was a pterodactyl

There!

[outerjjbx]

Jiara July Jubilee

Day 7, 1st of August- genre day

words: 2.8k

This is loosely based off Something in the Way by Nirvana. It isn’t crucial, but I recommend giving it a listen

“You’re not costin’ me any more money. You’re out.”

JJ moved his arms, which were covering his head, to look up at Luke. For a moment, he completely forgot about the blood running down his face, or the throbbing on his stomach and cheeks. He felt his breath hitch as he processed the words, ran over them and realised what they meant.

“What?”

“You’re out,” his father repeated. “If I see you near here again, I’ll kill you myself. You fuckin’ stole from me, and I’m givin’ you a pass ‘cause you’re unfortunately my kid. Consider yourself lucky, you little shit.”

JJ froze. He didn’t like living there, but it was still his house. He spent a lot of time at other peoples’ places, sure, but he still needed a permanent stay. He needed his room, and all his stuff, and a place to go to when everyone else got sick of him. His chest began to tighten as a realisation loomed over him.

He didn’t have anywhere to go.

John B was missing, Kiara’s parents hated him, and he couldn’t bother Pope, who was studying feverishly to make up for his lost scholarship. He knew Heyward would offer to let him stay, but it was general politeness, and he would just add more strain to their already struggling finances.

He moved shakily, packing a bag with anything important he could find. He had some money from working at the hotel, so he figured he could use that for food. He still had the restitution to pay off, but that was a worry for another day. He packed the gun, just in case, and tried to ignore the pain of simply moving as he swung his backpack on and exited his room.

Luke was sitting on the couch, beer in hand. He barely looked at his son, just stared ahead and pretended he wasn’t there, like he usually did. JJ gathered all of his mental strength when he spoke.

“Good luck paying the bills without me. We both know you can’t hold a job. No one wants to hire a junkie.”

His father turned towards him. “What did you just say to me?”

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” JJ practically spat. “You drove Mom away, and now your kid, too. You fuck everything up.”

Luke stood. “You’re tryin’ to pin this on me?” he scoffed. “You made your mama leave, ‘cause she saw what you were. And now you got yourself kicked out for stealin’ from me. You fucked this up, JJ. You fucked everything up. I’m sick o’ you bein’ my problem.”

JJ swallowed the lump in his throat, hating how much those words affected him. He slammed the door as he left, his face turning red and his fists clenched as he tried to calm himself down. Everything was crashing, all at once, and he had no idea how to stop it.

At first, he thought he could just stay at the Chateau. It was a crime scene, though, and there were a group of egotistical cops just waiting to tell him to go away. “Go home,” they’d ironically said. He didn’t bother telling them he no longer had one.

That left JJ wandering the streets, carrying all he had on his back. He’d been kicked out before, but he could usually just stay at John B’s and go back home after a couple of days. There was no John B anymore, and no going home. There was nothing.

—

Kiara wasn’t dealing with losing John and Sarah well at all.

She was practically canatonic, spending her time sitting in her bed and staring out the window. Both John B and Sarah had climbed through that window, sneaking into her house when her parents didn’t want them around. There was no sign of them, and it was a constant reminder that they were gone.

Kiara liked to believe she had hope. Truthfully, she lost any hope of their survival the second she saw Shoupe’s face, and she knew that deep down. She kept her thoughts positive, though, hiding the heavy truth behind a strict belief that they were somehow okay.

Pope had texted her a couple of times, just asking if she was okay. They’d talked through the kiss, both agreeing that it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. She was glad they were friends again, because he was all she really had. JJ wasn’t replying to anyone, and she figured he was holed up at the Chateau, wallowing in his own misery.

Kiara didn’t like the thought of him alone, but she has barely been able to move for the past couple of weeks. She had hardly left her room, just moving in and out for trips to the bathroom or for snacks at 3am. She looked at her phone, eyeing the unread message she’d sent JJ a few minutes ago, and sighed. It was probably good for her to go out anyway.

Getting showered and dressed was harder than she expected. She kept wanting to collapse back onto her bed, tuck herself into the sheets and never emerge. She pushed on, though, her protective instincts of JJ motivating her. As soon as she knew he was okay, she could head straight back home and get back into bed.

Driving the Jeep was difficult, too. She kept thinking if that day, of hiding John B in the reclined seat and looking for an answer. She thought he and Sarah could make it, that they could get away safely and everything would be okay. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Kiara’s breath hitched as she caught sight of the Chateau, seeing the mess it was. She pushed past the police tape, feeling her heart stutter as she looked at all of John B’s belongings, scattered around like they meant nothing. What was even more concerning was the apparent lack of JJ, and the fact that it didn’t even seem like he’d been there at all.

“Shit,” she muttered as she made her way back to the Jeep. She knew he wasn’t at Pope’s, and that left her with only one viable solution; his house. His real one.

She’d met Luke Maybank once before, after JJ had gotten suspended for fighting. It was common knowledge that he was mean -back then, they didn’t know to what extent- so the mere sight of him was terrifying. Yet JJ contantly craved his approval, and Kiara could never decipher why.

She’d never driven to JJ’s house before, so she took a few wrong turns before she figured out the route John B used to take. The thought of him still clenched her heart until she was sure it was dust, but her determination to find JJ overpowered it. She couldn’t imagine what he went through with his dad after losing the Phantom- she didn’t want to, either.

Kiara knocked on the door, keeping her fists closed in an effort to stop their shaking. Luke answered after a moment, looking her up and down as she struggled to find words. JJ had his eyes, but the comfort she found in her friend’s was replaced with a glazed over, icy cold stare.

“Is JJ here?” she finally managed to get out.

Luke scoffed. “He doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Where does he live?” she pushed.

Luke shrugged. “Not my problem. You ‘is friend? Figured he’d run to one o’ y’all or somethin’. Guess not.”

“Wait, so he’s missing?” she exclaimed. “You don’t know where he is?”

Luke sighed. “Look, I dunno where he went. I told ‘im to get out, he did. I’m not dealin’ with his shit anymore. You know how much he fuckin’ owes me?” he paused, narrowing his eyes. “Did you help ‘im steal my boat? God knows he can’t do shit on his own.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kiara lied. “I’m- I’m going to look for him.”

“Good luck,” Luke snorted as she made her way back to the Jeep.

Kiara had no idea where he could be. She was driving around, growing more distressed by the second. Every place she could think of was hopeless; JJ was nowhere to be found. The boneyard, even the lighthouse. She checked absolutely everywhere, but it was like he hadn’t even existed.

She pulled up at Heyward’s with a sigh, figuring she could stop for a snack and continue afterwards. She’d been driving around for hours, and her motivation was slipping. All she wanted to do was head back home and go straight to her room.

Kiara slipped into the shop, hoping to maybe see Pope and tell him about the JJ situation. She froze when a mop of messy, uncharacteristically long blonde hair came into sight, accompanied by an unusual amount of layers of clothes and a heavy looking backpack. He was talking to Heyward, probably annoying the man.

“JJ?” she exclaimed, making her way towards him.

He turned and flashed her a grin. “Oh, hey, Kie.”

“Where have you been?”

“Around.”

“Around where?”

JJ shrugged. “My house, the Chateau.”

“The Chateau is an unliveable mess and I went to your house,” she deadpanned.

He shot up at that. “Wait, you went to my house? To my dad? Are you crazy?”

“He said you haven’t been home.”

“Yeah, I’ve been at the Chateau.”

Kiara shook her head. “Don’t bullshit me, JJ! Where have you been?”

JJ shook his head and pushed past her. “You’re overthinking this. I’ve been staying at the Chateau, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

She grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving the shop. “I want you to tell me the truth. I know you haven’t been at the Chateau, okay? It’s way too messy for someone to have been living there, even for you.”

“Don’t underestimate me, I could live in a chicken coop.”

Kiara was beginning to grow frustrated. Her grip tightened around JJ’s wrist, immediately loosening when a hint of alarm flashed across his face. Kiara stepped back, exhaling sharply as guilt stilled in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed.

He shrugged and smiled crookedly. “Look, Kie, you don’t gotta worry. I’m fine, okay?”

Kiara shook her head. “I know you’re not. I just want to help, JJ. Please let me help.”

He glanced towards Heyward, who was watching the pair interact with a furrowed brow. He hesitated for a moment, looking to Kie almost apologetically before stepping away and walking out of the shop. Kiara swore under her breath and followed him, reaching him before he could turn the corner,

“JJ, please!” she called, getting desperate. Why couldn’t he understand that she just wanted what was best for him?

“Just drop it, Kie,” he muttered. “Please.”

“I’ll drop it when i’m tell me the truth!”

“You don’t want to know the truth!”

Kiara froze, watching JJ practically fall apart in front of her. He was breathing heavily, clenching his fists and staring at the ground, avoiding her eyes. Kie reached forward, her fingers grazing against the fading bruises on his cheek before he flinched away and she retracted her hand. She’d never seen him so fragile, his all-smiles and sarcastic comments exterior crumbling before her very eyes.

“Where have you been staying?” she asked, gently.

His shoulders slumped and he wiped his eyes. “The old bridge.”

She knew exactly what he was talking about. There was a rundown bridge on the outskirts of the Cut, above a dried up river. She knew it was one of the homeless hotspots, and she could barely believe JJ was living there. Kiara inhaled sharply, her heart aching.

“The old bridge?” she repeated. “You’re living there?”

“It’s really not that bad,” he started, only to be cut off by Kie.

“It is that bad,” she said. “JJ, why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have helped you, I could have-”

“No,” he interrupted. “No, I don’t want your help. I don’t want your pity. It’s fine, alright? I’m fine.”

Kiara shook her head. “How long?”

“It’s not-”

“How long?” she demanded.

JJ ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the overgrown strands. “It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks?” she exclaimed. “JJ, you have been living under a bridge for weeks and you didn’t tell me? You didn’t tell Pope? Why the fuck would you just let yourself suffer for so long?”

“I don’t know what else to do, Kiara!” he yelled. “My dad kicked me out, your parents hate me, and the Heywards can’t afford having another mouth to feed! What did you expect me to do, Kie? Come crawling to you, break down like I did in the hot tub? No, I’m dealing with this myself. I am taking care of myself. I’m doing everything myself!”

“You don’t have to!” Kiara cried. “Why don’t you understand that the people that love you want to help? I love you, I want to help! Just let me- just let me help.” She felt herself growing more quiet as tears brimmed her eyes. “Please.”

JJ was on the verge of tears, too, but he was hiding it behind anger. “I’m not your fucking charity case.”

Kiara felt her mouth go dry as he turned to leave. He didn’t even have his bike with him; he’d probably forgotten it at his dad’s house and didn’t want to go back. The severity of the situation hit Kiara felt like a truck, and she nearly collapsed as she imagined how much had JJ gone through.

“I want to help you because you’re my best friend and I love you.”

He paused and turned. “I can’t put that on you, Kie.”

“What do you mean?”

JJ sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t- I can’t be your problem.”

“Problem?” she repeated. “Hey, you’re not my problem. You’re my friend.”

“Dad told me he was sick of me being his problem.”

Kiara felt shoulders drop. “Oh, JJ. No, you’re- you’re not a problem. God, I’m so sorry. He shouldn’t have said that, okay? Everything he’s said, everything he’s done... it’s not true. I swear. You’re worth protecting.”

She opened her arms, letting him fall into them. Their hug was parallel to the one in the hot tub, but it somehow held more weight. JJ was more broken than ever; his physical wounds were faded, but there were fresh scars affecting his every thought. Kiara hated what Luke had done to him.

“I love you,” she told him. “And I want to help you, okay? So let me help you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered into her shoulder.

“No, it’s okay,” she returned, her voice strained. “It’s okay.”

They stayed like that for a while, JJ calming down eventually. She took him back to the Jeep, pretending not to be alarmed when he nearly fell asleep in their five minute drive to the Wreck. She wasn’t sure if he’d been eating, so she wanted to get a real meal into him before she took him back to her house.

He ate like he hadn’t seen real food in weeks, which he probably hadn’t. She assumed he’d been living off of stolen snacks from shops along the Cut; she knew he couldn’t afford anything else.

JJ still seemed reluctant to let her bring him home, and was uncharacteristically quiet as she pulled into her driveway. Her parents weren’t home, meaning she could bring him in without question. She could deal with them later.

Kiara did a load of laundry, washing JJ’s clothes while he showered. She had some oversized clothes he could borrow in the meantime.

He looked kind of ridiculous in a pair of tight sweatpants and a massive Metallica t-shirt, and Kiara would have laughed if they were in any other situation. There was something about the sadness in his eyes, though; that hollow look that seemed to be set in stone; that kept her serious.

She let him cuddle up next to her in her bed and carded her fingers through his damp hair, not minding the chill. She thought he was already sleeping when he spoke up.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” he mumbled, sounding tired.

“You shouldn’t be,” Kiara replied. “This is what best friends are for, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I guess.”

“I love you,” she said.

“You’ve said that a few times,” JJ chuckled dryly.

She knew he was avoiding saying it back. It made sense that he had a hard time saying it. He jokingly told everyone all the time, but being serious and letting people in was probably terrifying. Most of the people that were meant to love him back had either hurt or left him.

“I love you too,” he mumbled after a while.

Kiara smiled gently and kissed the top of his head. “I know.”

[doomednarrative]

2018: A (Personal) Year in Review

I put off writing in general so much, but I’ve put off this particular post long enough. 

And no, this isn’t about the general world or the country. It’s about my personal life, and it’s mainly a vent/personal rambling post, so I’ll put under a read more. If you don’t care to read it, that’s totally fine. 

But anyways. Here we go: 

2018 was...a fuckin ride, to put it in simplest terms. 

For those who are new and unaware, lemme briefly bring you up to speed about the end of 2017 for me, cause it’s important to the context of this entire thing:

December 17th of 2017, when I was on my third day home for Christmas break from college, I packed a backpack, and I left my dad and stepmom’s house for good. 

Their house had been abusive for years, and my mental health was in the absolute tank in college. I was feeling casually suicidal and had a full on breakdown about having to come home for winter break. After a fight I got into that night with my stepmom after she found me texting some friends on Discord (which I wasn’t supposed to have, even tho I was almost 19 and an adult at the time,) she got Pissed, and so did I. I had finally had a group of friends who supported me and helped me out so much, and I didn’t want to loose them. And I couldn’t stand the abuse, the treatment of me like I was a child with no privacy or personal autonomy, the constant pushing for me to date my one long time friend and to be straight, or my parent’s inability to accept me as their son and not their daughter any longer. 

I was given a choice, and told if I decided to leave, I wasn’t welcome back. A few months before, my best friend had said that their parents had a safe space for me to go if I ever needed it. They had been aware of how bad some things had been with my parents and feared for the worst, so they offered me a home if it came down to that. And that night, it came down to that choice. 

I packed one backpack of stuff I was allowed to bring (solely because it was stuff I bought) and I walked to my friends mom’s house, and by the next morning, I was at her dad’s house, safe and sound. 

2018 became the year of learning how to be an adult in a house that treated me as one, and in a house that didn’t put my personal safety and mental health in danger. 

2018 was...well, it was simultaneously the worst and best year of my life. 

Early on, I could tell my parents weren’t going to let my off easy for leaving. My mom wasn’t a problem, she had been out of my life for almost two years at that point, and hadn’t attempted to make contact with me for a long time. 

But my dad and my stepmom? Oh, they were determined to make my life as bas as they could while not being physically around me. 

First thing they did? They tried to take all of my possessions from my dorm at college without my knowledge, because they thought that They owned that stuff. I only found this out because I called the college to formally drop out and ask when I could pick up my stuff, and they informed me my parents were already planning on picking up my stuff for me. 

Me and my now adoptive parents ended up making an impromptu trip, four hours up and four hours back, that night to my college campus to make sure that I could get my possessions before they could. And we were successful.

Next thing my dad did to screw me over after moving out? 

That bastard stole about 700$ from a joint bank account I had with him to use for college. That was money I earned from about 7 months of work at my summer food truck job. And he took it because he legally could since it was a joint account, and didn’t tell me. i found out when I went into the bank to withdraw that money and open a separate account. 

So I was starting off the year with already some setbacks. 

Thankfully, I Was able to replace my birth certificate and social security card relatively easily, so that was in my favor at least. 

Then, come my birthday on January 26 last year, I got a letter. Two letters to be specific. One from my stepmom, and one from my dad. 

Both were full of manipulation and guilt tripping language and just. Gaslighting and more emotional abuse. They had somehow gotten my address from when I had set up my separate bank account and changed my information in the bank system.  And they decided to send me abusive shit as a birthday present. 

I’m not gonna lie, it hurt a lot. 

They continued to try to do stuff like that. They called me multiple times from different numbers, they called police on my adoptive family to say that I was crazy and that my parents were like. concerned for my safety because i had blocked their phone numbers after the first two phone calls. They texted me from different numbers, just. A lot of different bullshit. 

February was the first time I saw my dad since leaving. I had gone to a screening of Love Simon, as it was really important to me, and somehow thru some stalkery methods, he knew i was there and he confronted me in the theater lobby after the film. (When I asked how he found me there, his answer was ‘I have my ways.’ I never posted about this encounter when it originally happened.)

He proceeded to be transphobic to me in public, demeaning me and humiliating me in front of everyone in the theater, told me I was the reason my siblings were now in therapy (which is a lie, my brother was already in therapy for anxiety long before I left), calling me crazy, telling my adoptive mother that I “needed help” and that “she’ll outstay her welcome.” He said a lot of awful things, and eventually I left the theatre in tears after screaming at him that I was his son and that this shit was why I left in the first place, and that he should go fuck himself.

Thankfully, I didn’t see him for months afterword, not til october, right before I left my retail job that he and my stepmom found out I worked at. I saw my stepmom three times at that job, once with my siblings (which is the only time I’ve seen them since leaving and that was. Very hard to deal with and a very emotional time), and twice without my siblings. The times she came without them, she was an absolute fucking asshole to me, still spewing her abusive rhetoric about how I was in the wrong for leaving, and how my father did nothing wrong when he saw me in February. 

She and my father only left me alone after I told them that I would not get into an argument while I was on the clock, and that if they didn’t leave I’d call the store security guard. 

After that, they haven’t done anything else. Yet. We’ll see what 2019 holds. 

But, aside from the bullshit with my parents, 2018 had its other ups and downs. More ups than downs, but it still had it’s rough moments. 

I got a job in early May as a sales associate/cashier/fitting room attendant for a well known Coat Factory chain store. 

That job was pure fuckin hell, and I’m glad I don’t work there anymore. The last week that I was supposed to work there before leaving for my new job, I got pulled into the side office by the manager on duty (she wasn’t an actual manager, she just had closing priviledges) and she Screamed at me about how a customer complained about me, she hated me, my coworkers all hated me, all three of my managers hated me, and how she was tired of my attitude and how she couldn’t wait til I was fuckin gone. The whole issue that night had started because of her and how she couldn’t properly communicate to me where she wanted me to be that night and what duties she wanted me handling. She took out her frusteration at her own mistakes on me, and I had had enough. I stood my ground with her and didn’t let her walk all over me, but I went home that night, bawled for about two hours because being yelled at is a trigger for me, and she had been all in my personal space like she was going to hit me, and then I emailed my general manager the next day and told her she could replace me for my last two shifts and I wouldn’t be coming in for them. 

I haven’t stepped foot in that goddamned store since I left that night. 

I have a different job now. I work as an overnight personal care assistant at a nursing home, but it’s a higher end one, and it’s not bad. It can be stressful and super draining at times, but enviornmentally its a better job than the retail one ever was, so it’s good. 

My mental health has been a wild ride as well. I won’t get into the full details here, but let just say that uh. I’m 99% sure that I’m both ADHD and autistic, and I’m thinking I have some form of ptsd as well from years of trauma shit. I’m not suicidal anymore, but I have bouts of depression and anxiety and sometimes anger that last for days to weeks at a time. It’s...rough, to say the least. And dysphoria doesn’t help any of that. 

But I’m alive and fighting, and that’s the important part. 

Not everything this year has been bad tho. There’s been a fair amount of good too, and I’m greatful for it. 

December 23rd I celebrated my first year aniversary with @curious-corvids, and i couldn’t be happier about that. He’s been there thru this Entire ride, and he’s been such a positive force in my life, and I hope to keep him around for years to come. 

Similarly, March 18th this year will be my one year aniversary with @sinclair-solutions, and that I’m immensely happy about as well. They’re such a wonderful person and just. i’m very lucky to have them, I really am. they’ve also been here thru everything, and I could never thank then enough for that. 

I made some friends in the past few months that I can’t imagine what my days would be like without them in it. Kathy, Jay, Fi, and Evan are such great people, and I’m lucky to have them around. 

I got the chance to meet Ren, Lu and Erin in person for the first time at DragonCon, and went to both my first comic convention and my first out of state trip alone with them, and it was honestly the best five days of my life. I can’t wait to do that again with them this year. 

I’ve been steadily improving at art this year and took commissions for the first time, and that’s been a very fun thing to do. 

I’m actually able to like. Afford to buy things for myself and spend my money without interferance, and thats such a change from how my parents used to control my finances. 

Overall 2018 was just..a wild ride. 

2019 is sure to bring better things. With luck this month, I should be starting the process of legally changing my name, and that will be a very freeing thing to do. 

I turn 20 on January 26th, and just. 

I didn’t think I’d actually make it to 20. That’s a personal milestone for me, to have made it this far. 

Whatever this new year brings tho, here’s to hoping it goes better than 2018. 

Here’s to hoping I’m better this year than I was last year. 

[deliverydefresas]

we push and pull like a magnet do

look at me forcing myself to stay on schedule lmao. not even close to proofread but y’all know that already. 

part 1 | part 2 | part 3  

au: famous!simón meets college!ámbar

“It wasn’t a date.”

“It was.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It so was!”

“For the last time, it wasn’t a date!”

“Honey, he invited you for coffee, paid for your food, you both asked personal questions, he gave you a ride home… he freaking met your mom! It screams date. With capital d.”

Ámbar scoffed. “Freaking? What, you stopped cursing now?”

“I’m trying to quit; I almost said ‘fuck’ when my I.L. teacher asked me a question yesterday, he gave me the death glare and I thought for sure the vein in his forehead would pop and cover me in blood.” Emilia paused, “dammit, you’re a bad influence, I was doing so good.”

She raised her brow, “I’m not in charge of what you say, you idiot.”

“But you encourage me to curse, like the wicked witch you are.” She flipped her off, then. Emilia just puckered her lips up, sending her a kiss. “Anyway, your distraction ends now, stop swimming in your river and accept it; you and pinkboi went on a date.”

“My river?”

“Y’know, the Nile? Denial.”

“Hilarious.” She deadpanned.

“I would slay as a comedian.”

Ámbar decided she’d ignore her best friend for the rest of their lunch. It’d been almost three weeks and Emilia still hadn’t dropped the subject. So, what if it sounded like she had a date? Ámbar had very clear that it hadn’t been one, and she was sure Simón knew it too. Besides, she didn’t like him. Sure, they had fun, and sure, he wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d expected; but never, not once, did it cross her mind to see it as anything but an interview.

Which, by the way, had broken records on the Fab & Chic. Jazmín and Delfi hadn’t been happy at first that she’d gone solo and met Simón on her own, or that it’d been her who he gave the exclusive (that she didn’t know it was an exclusive in the first place) about the band nearly splitting up years ago; but the exposure (and money) other media and fans had given the blog in the last two weeks was more than enough to shut their mouths and be appreciative of it. Thanks to it, Jazmín and Delfi had been offered internships on two of the best magazines in the city, and a potential place for a future job to start their careers.

Ámbar, however, got enough money to pay next semester’s scholarship without her mom’s help. Maybe two more if she worked a summer job, and her dad sent her allowance on time; which he most likely would, since he didn’t have to pay two months of his little brother’s school.

She had thought of sending Simón an e-mail to thank him, or maybe even a card; but decided against it since the dude was, well, famous, and probably received thousands of those daily. The chances of him reading it were slim to none, and most likely than not, it’d go to junk-mail.

Plus, Simón really didn’t strike him as someone who read his e-mails.

“- Mrs. Álvarez.” Emilia caught her attention. “Ha! You responded to that! You must be thinking of marrying that dude and picking your children’s names and everything!”

She glared at her. “It was just a coincidence I tuned into your delirious words when you said it.”

“Nah-uh. Tell me, are you marrying in white? Beige? Are you changing your name to his? Will you have a girl or a boy first? It’s totally a girl, isn’t it?”

“We don’t change names here!” Her best friend ignored her, continuing her ranting.

“I can totally see it. A girl, with fake blonde hair, his curls, your face and his dimples; hopefully with his butt because, no offense, but yours is none-existing.”

“Are you sexualizing my hypothetic child?” Again, she was ignored.

“You should name her after me because I’m awesome. Think about it: Emilia Álvarez Smith. Oh, or maybe like that Mean Girls girl. Huh, Regina Álvarez Smith doesn’t sound that nice, forget I said that. What about a stuck up, bitchy girl? I had this classmate in México and she sucked. Her name was M-”

“Stop naming my non-existing daughter!”

“I’m sure pinkboi would love my names, no worries.”

“Then you have kids with him!”

“I have Benny already, and no offense, but he’s hotter than your boy.”  

“You’re an idiot and I hate you a lot right now.”

Emilia smirked. “Now, now, don’t bring out the claws just because you wish your boy was hot like mine.”

Before she could retort with a sarcastic answer like she wanted, her phone vibrated on the table. Seeing Jazmín’s name on the screen threw her off; because she never called unless she needed Ámbar to do something for her and the blog.

“Hello?”

“Can I give your number to Simón?” As usual, the redhead never disappointed with her greetings.

“What?” Emilia arched her brow, silently asking who it was. When she mouthed Jazmín, her friend pretended to gag; she just rolled her eyes at her antics.

Jazmín’s sigh of annoyance was heard through the phone. “He e-mailed the Fab and Chic asking for your number. I’m asking you if I can give it to him since you’d probably kick my ass if I just gave it to him without warning.”

She would. “How are you sure it’s him? Does the guy even use his e-mail?” At this point, the other blonde was gesturing wildly to turn on the speaker. Ámbar just flipped her off.

“I e-mailed his agent and he confirmed it was his personal account.”

What did that guy want, now?

“Fine. But if I’m kidnapped or something it’s on you.”

Jazmín just hung op on her. She had been bitter two weeks ago, and she probably still was. Simón was her celebrity crush, and she was the biggest Rollerband fan she knew of; buttchin trying to contact her specifically must’ve been salt on her wounded pride. Not like she actually cared, but the boy wasn’t some thing, he was someone and Jazmín couldn’t call dibs on him like it was her property.

But, again, she didn’t like him. She just cared for his right to not be objectified.

“Well, goodbye to you too.” She muttered before locking her phone and putting it away on the table.

“What did gingerbread want now?” Emilia asked eagerly.

“Buttchin e-mailed the Fab & Chic and asked for my number. She was just asking if she could give it to him.”

The gasp that came out from her friend’s mouth should be illegal. The girl actually shrieked, “I told you! I fucking told you so! He liiiiiikes you!”

By now, half the lunch counter was glaring at them. “Would you shut up?” She hissed, “he doesn’t like me. He’s probably asking because the idiot forgot to ask for his beanie back.”

“Yeah, right. You seriously buy that bullshit? The dude is probably naming your kids right now.”

“What’s with you and thinking people are naming their kids?”

“Benny and I have. We’re naming one Bernardo and the other Esther.”

“Do you want your kids to be bullied?”

“My kids will be bad-asses, if anything they’ll bully.”

Sometimes Ámbar wondered why she was even friends with her.

She was relieved when she got home. Her classes had gone smoothly, and the workload had been reasonable; but Emilia’s teasing had hit a nerve on her that made her unable to turn off the topic in her mind.

She just wanted a shower, ice cream and a nap. Ámbar knew herself enough to accept that trying to do any work in that moment would be pointless and a sure headache.

Her bed was calling her.

And, according to her vibrating bag, so was someone on her phone. It was a blocked number, so she just let it go to voicemail and went to take a shower; if it was anything important they’d leave a message or something.

When she got out, she had ten unread texts.

Hey Ámbar, it’s simón

As in, Simón Álvarez

From the Rollerban

*Rollerband

I asked Jazmín for your # and she gave it to me, she told me she told you?

If you’re not ambar ignore these messages

I’m not actually simón from the rb

If you are tho please text me back

Or call me

Or something?

“He’s such a weirdo.” She muttered to herself, before texting a simple ‘it’s me.’ It only took seconds before he responded.

Can I call you?

No

He called her anyway.

“I told you no, buttchin.”

Simón didn’t seem to mind her greeting, as he sounded more amused that anything. “Then why did you pick up?” She didn’t answer, which only made him chuckle. “Sorry, but I really needed to confirm this was your number. It’s not like I don’t trust Jazmín but…”

“She hates me?”

“… It sounded like that, yes.”

She sighed. “She doesn’t. I think she’s just jealous you didn’t ask for her number.”

“Well, she’s not the one who stole my beanie. I have no reason to call her.”

“I didn’t steal it. You forgot to ask for it and I forgot to return it.”

“Sounds like stealing to me.”  

“Do you want me to mail it to you or something?”

“Or something.”

“Well that surely tells me what you want to.”

He chuckled again. “One of my friends goes to your uni, and they offered to pick it up for me; if that works for you I can tell them to meet you in your faculty.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to come to my house?”

“As much as I liked your mom’s food and having dinner with you, I can’t. The boys and I are actually out of the country right now, that’s why I couldn’t contact you earlier.”

She was surprised when she felt a wave of disappointment course through her body. Did she want to see him again? Well, yes. But she knew she didn’t need to, and she was obviously not going to ask him to wait until he was back in Buenos Aires. Her pride was bigger than that.

“Then sure. Just tell me when and I’ll bring it over.”

“Awesome! Do you have free time tomorrow?”

She nodded, even if he couldn’t see her. “I have a couple minutes before my noon class. If they can meet me at 11:50 in the square, I’ll be waiting by the fountain.”

“11:50, square, fountain; got it. I’ll text them and confirm it later, alright?” She shrugged it off with an ‘okay’. “So, how are you? How were your classes?” Ámbar smiled.

He stalled their goodbye’s for another hour, promising to call her tomorrow after uni to see if everything had gone alright.

She didn’t do any work that afternoon, but she couldn’t bring herself to care that much.

The next morning, she was next to Emilia with the beanie on her hand; waiting for whoever Simón had sent, and just couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Out of everyone is this world, she really wasn’t expecting to her there.

“Da-amn.” Emilia whispered as Luna walked their way, the brunette’s grin as bright as the sun. Ámbar forced herself to smile back.

Only Simón would send her ex’s actual girlfriend to pick up his stupid hat.

[pacman-tattoo]

promise [connor m. x reader]

uh hi im not good at reader inserts i swear. i’ve never written connor (or anything deh-related) before so uh, my apologies if he (and zoe, since she pops up for like, 5 seconds) is ooc. also i wrote this on google docs and then tumblr messed it up so i fixed it :’D

warnings; swearing, mainly? lots of swearing.

    connor: you up

    connor: y/n

    connor: fuck

    y/n: wtf connor i was almost asleep

    connor: sorry

    y/n: what is it

    connor: come outside

    y/n: connor

    y/n: what

    y/n: oh my god

    y/n: connor i s2g

    connor: just get out here

     You threw off your blankets, shoved your phone in your sweatpants’ pocket as you left your room without a second thought. You were lucky, since you didn’t have to worry about your parents - your mom was definitely asleep, and your dad worked at night. Meanwhile Connor probably had to sneak out to get here - the fucker probably ran here, now that you think about it. But you opened the door, and there he stood at the end of your driveway, staring off into the skies. He didn’t hear the door open, or maybe he did and he just wanted to ignore the world for a few more minutes. Just a few minutes - that’s all some people could ask for.

    You and Connor weren’t friends - you never did anything together or went anywhere or talked at school - but you two definitely weren’t strangers. By some chance you ended up with his number due to some stupid school project either freshman or sophomore year after being thrown into a group with him and some other kid, and it had been your idea to exchange numbers. Some kids pitied you - you were in a group with Connor Murphy, the same kid who threw a printer at his second grade teacher because he wasn’t line leader. But you didn’t say anything as some kid whispered this to you. Maybe he was one of those kids. Kids with issues that don’t get resolved because people just say they’ll grow out of it, just give it time. But maybe it was because you could relate in a way. Connor had his problems, and you had yours. He texted you during the project once. You and Connor and whatshisname got an A.

    But after a few weeks, he texted you again. Some question about whatever book you’d been reading. And then you texted him about some stupid thing, and then it continued - by some stroke of mere luck. But you didn’t talk to him at school, whether it be out of respect for whatever image he has drawn up for himself, or whether it be a small part of you trying to protect your own image, you weren’t exactly sure at times. You saw how people would look at him. So maybe you’d try to be there more.

    So you walked and you stopped at his side, dressed in a shirt and sweatpants, and looked at the stars with him.

    “Hey.”

    He didn’t respond for a moment. “Hey.”

    “You okay?”

    “Yeah.”

    You looked to him. “You sure?”

    “Yeah.”

    You frowned. You looked back to the stars. “Liar.”

    “I’m not-”

    You cut him off, “Connor. You can talk to me.”

    “I hurt Zoe.”

    Your blood ran cold. “Hurt how?”

    “I… said some shit to her that I didn’t mean.”

    “Connor-”

    “We already fight, but I said some shit and I think it actually got to her this time.”

    “What did you say?”

    He looked over to you. He shook his head. You only shove your hands into your pockets.

    “Some things are better left unsaid, then,” you shrugged, “but… that bad, huh?”

    “Yeah.”

    “You wanna stay over? Mom and dad won’t care.”

    He nearly chuckled. Yeah, but his will. “Can’t. I already had to sneak out to get here.”

    “That hasn’t stopped you before,” you said and shrugged again. “Whatever.”

    There’s a pause. Your shoulder bumps against his arm. He finally spoke again.

    “I think Zoe hates me.” When you didn’t respond, he only continued, “not that I blame her. It’s just… I don’t know, this shit’s bothering me.” He paused. “Maybe I’ll stay over.”

    You somewhat knew why - or at least you thought you did. You could keep him from doing something he’d regret. But you only nodded. “You can stay in my room.”

    “Alright.”

    It grew quiet again. You sat down. Connor sat beside you. The warm air blew and brushed over your skin and you shivered a little but you don’t mind, honestly, because any wind is good wind when it’s hot as hell outside - and the only reason you’re wearing sweatpants is because it’s cold as fuck inside, no thanks to your parents keeping the house at least fifty degrees minus whatever it was outside. You look to Connor. His hair is pulled back. But not only is his hair pulled back; it’s pulled back in one of those cheap, puffy hair-ties that only kids use sometimes because they’re soft and small and easy to lose and cheap, and it reminds you of childhood because there were a lot of girls that would have their parents or siblings or whoever brush their hair and put it up in those little puffy hair-ties that matched their outfits because that’s cute, y’know, kids are cute, but Connor Murphy is sitting next to you at seventeen with a cheap pink (or maybe it’s purple or red but fuck if you knew for sure) hair-tie he probably stole from Zoe or he found hidden in a drawer or maybe he ran into a Walmart and bought it, because, honestly, fuck if you knew. But it makes you smile. He doesn’t catch why, but the small crack of a smile begins to break through.

    Maybe you liked Connor Murphy.

    No. There wasn’t a maybe. You liked Connor Murphy and you knew it and you didn’t say shit because you’d become that person who likes a freak despite how much you wanna scream that he is not a freak and he doesn’t deserve this bullshit. And honestly, you doubted that he liked you. Connor didn’t really like anybody, or at least, he was pretty damn good at hiding it. Connor was pretty damn good at hiding a lot of things - although he wasn’t as good when it came to you. You knew these little things he’d do whenever he was lying and you called him out on it when you could. But if Connor liked you, or liked anyone, you didn’t know.

    “How are you not hot right now?”

    You shrugged. His gaze lingered on you for far too long. You faked a yawn. “Let’s just… go to sleep. C’mon.”

    You two stood, and Connor followed you inside, lingering behind you as you locked your door and then double-checked it because can you always trust your memory? sometimes you wish you could and swung down the hall, walking into your room. When was the last time Connor was in here?

    “New poster,” he noted in a voice that was too quiet. You looked over. You shrugged - something someone had bought you and you hung it up just because there was an empty space. You’d tear it down in a few more weeks. It… messed with the flow of your room. Not because you didn’t like the band or anything - you did, but recent events have fucked with your perception and you’d rather not broadcast your love for their music because then people start to assume you’re a terrible person and you’re excusing actions, even if you say nah dude, it’s just their music, fuck them as people because that was when it sounded like you were getting defensive and making up an excuse so that people still liked you even if you were a piece of shit who excused actions-

    “Are you okay?” Connor finally asked. You almost shrugged again. You really should stop doing that.

    “Tired.”

    He doesn’t buy it. Connor unzipped and tossed away his hoodie - and he was asking you about your sweatpants - somewhere on the floor while you threw down a pillow or two and a spare blanket. He mumbled a thank you while you buried yourself back in your blankets. Through sleep ridden thoughts, you finally looked back to Connor, who lay there on your floor, gazing at your ceiling.

    “Connor?” A small hum of acknowledgement. “Promise me you’ll talk to me.”

    “I already talk to you.”

    “Connor.”

    A soft chuckle. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll talk to you.”

    “Promise?”

    “Promise.”

    The next morning, Connor had left before you were awake. You checked your phone first, only to find a quick text saying he “had to go.” His parents or his sister probably started freaking out. You didn’t blame them - you would be too.

    And a few days after that, Zoe Murphy decides to text you -something short and simple at first.

    zoe: [y/n]? this is zoe murphy.

    At first you wondered how she got your number. Maybe Connor’s phone? But then:

    zoe: have you seen connor?

    Fuck.

    y/n: no?

    y/n: why

    zoe: damn it.

    y/n: zoe what the fuck

    zoe: i don’t know

    zoe: he disappeared last night.

    y/n: fuck, i’ll call and see if i can get ahold of him

    zoe: don’t. i got your number from his phone.

    zoe: he left it on his bed

    y/n: well shit

    y/n: i’ll go look for him

    zoe: thank you

    Damn it, Connor. You pushed back from your desk, grabbing your wallet before stopping. Connor’s jacket. You grabbed it from the floor, confused as to why he’d leave it here, but only shrugged as you threw it onto your bed - it could always wait. You need to find Connor first, then you could return his jacket. You swung out of your doorway and down the hall, glancing to your father on the couch, watching some sitcom on TV. You grabbed your keys, the jingling enough to catch his attention as he glanced up to see you about to slip into your shoes.

    “Going out?” He mused. You nodded.

    “Meeting a friend.”

    “Friend?”

    “Yeah.”

    He took your word. Bless him. “Alright. Be careful.”

    “I will.”

    After three hours of aimlessly driving around town, you returned home and immediately the sight of Connor fucking Murphy sitting on your doorstep made you grip the steering wheel as tight as you could. You pulled up and off to the side of your mother’s car, shutting off the car and quickly slamming the door behind you. It took everything to keep you from stomping over to Connor and nearly punching him, but you didn’t. He looked up at you and the smallest hint of a smile flickered across his face, but disappeared upon seeing you glowering at him.

    “I can explain-”

    “What the fuck, Connor?”

    “I needed some time alone.”

    “You couldn’t have taken your phone? Or told Zoe? Or me?”

    He licked his lips, running a hand through his hair, before slowly speaking, “no.”

    You grew flustered as frustration continued to build, “Connor-” you stumbled, “what-” and again, “you can’t just-” and again and again before only coming up with a single word: “why?”

    He shrugged, “Zoe would…. probably tell me I’m stupid. And you…” He trailed off. “It’d be hard to say shit to you.”

    Your chest tightened. Did he not trust you? “Connor-”

    “I was thinking about you.”

    Well, shit. Your heart jumped at the thought of Connor thinking about you because why should he think about you? Why would he be sitting around somewhere thinking of you?

    “It’s just…” He stopped for a moment… was Connor blushing? Oh god. “You’ve been nice to me.”

    “Because you’re cool?” You said, “I mean, you haven’t really given me a reason-”

    “Did everyone else need a reason to treat me like a freak?” He took the smallest of steps away from you.

    You frowned. “Apparently not. But… that’s just how people are, Connor.”

    “You aren’t.” He licked his lips again, before taking a deep breath. “You… gave me a chance. Even after what that kid told you. And… I don’t know, it just got to me. You actually gave a shit about this fuck up of a person-”

    “Connor-”

    “And I just kept thinking and thinking about what to fucking say because, fuck, this shit is confusing, because you.. you’re just...”

    “Just? Connor, just tell me what-”

    Before you could even finish your thought, Connor’s lips were on your own. Connor fucking Murphy was kissing you and it wasn’t a dream, holy shit. You tore back from him by some impulse, staring at him and nearly touching your own lips until you caught his scowl.

    “Fuck, no, I shouldn’t have-” He stumbled back, “fuck, you probably think I’m some kind of… freak who just.. just-” He groaned, muttering, “fuck” over and over under his breath.

    Something spurred. Confidence? Hormones?... Maybe something else? Hell if you knew. But you still smiled, slowly pushing your hands into your pockets and only glancing at Connor, keeping your words soft, “you could have asked, dumbass.” He looked back to you, eyes pinned to you, drinking in your appearance at that very moment before balling his hands into fists. Something snapped, the small bit of hope that had filled him faltering as he dug his nails deeper into his palms.

    “This isn’t funny, [y/n]. Don’t…” He paused, “don’t fuck with me like this.”

    You could feel something pluck at your heartstrings, “I’m not-”

    “You're just… you're gonna fool me into thinking that there's something real here and then- then you’ll just laugh at me along with the whole school at the freak who thinks he’s in love with you-”

    “Connor, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

    “Why would you actually like me? Why should you like me?” His voice broke, “fuck, I knew this was just some sort of… pity shit, and now you’re just playing along because fuck, how can you not just smile and go along with the joke? How can you not just-”

    And then it was your turn as you ended up cutting him off, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him to you for another kiss. Desperation set in, his hands flying to your hips to your back until one hand slipped into your hair, pulling you closer, pressing your body against his own. It wasn’t clear who broke away first, but Connor pressed his forehead against your own, his breathing irregular but warm with the scent of cigarettes enveloping you.

    “Connor?” You said in a soft voice. He didn’t speak, only making a soft hum in acknowledgement. You continued, “don’t disappear again. Promise?”

    He still didn’t speak at first, before the word came, unexpectedly soft compared to the roughness that was Connor. “Promise.”

[ddproductionsw77]

The Lucky Ones Pt. 1 (Riarkle AU Two-Shot)

Fandom: Girl Meets World

Pairing(s): Riarkle (Mainly), Markle (Kinda…?)

Characters: Riley Matthews, Farkle Minkus, Maya Hart, Stuart Minkus, and Jennifer Bassett Minkus

Rating: T with a strong language advisory.

Prompt from lucasfriarfan: Farkle Minkus, the young and newly appointed Head of Minkus International, has just married middle-class, all-American Riley Nebula Matthews and she’s quite the packaged deal… Can free-spirited, kind-hearted Riley play her new role of impeccable, wealthy housewife? Or will she break under the pressure to be perfect?

Author’s Note: Planning for this one to be a two-shot so look out for part 2 of you enjoyed :) Also, trying out a new format for just this two-shot, let me known what you think

*Breaking News Music Plays*

Anchor One: This just in! Newly christened CEO of Minkus International, Farkle Minkus, is what? That’s right, he’s married!

Anchor Two: Minkus was reported to be romantically tied to a civilian reporter for the New York Times over a year ago and it was announced via the Minkus International PR office that over the last weekend, the young bachelor tied the knot this his secretive, long-term girlfriend.

Anchor One: With the marriage announcement, however, came a full public introduction to the new Mrs. Minkus.

Anchor Two: New Mrs. Matthews-Minkus, actually. She’s a hyphen-er, apparently. According to social media platforms and released intel, Farkle married an average, all-American girl. Born to a middle-class family and growing up in public schools, Riley Matthews-Minkus isn’t exactly who most would have expected to snag one of the most eligible bachelors in New York.

Anchor One: *Laughs* I feel like that might be putting in lightly.

Anchor Two: Matthews-Minkus is an outspoken liberal, having participated in several marches for the Woman’s Movement and actively speaking out about several other controversial topics.

Anchor One: She’s also been terminated from several news media outlets for her strong political views and ideology.

Anchor Two: Honestly, I can’t wait for the matriarch of the Minkus family, Jennifer Bassett-Minkus, to come out and just say, “What was my son thinking?” Oh, come on! We’re all thinking it!

Anchor One: The girl is a loose canon. No one knows anything about her! And how is she supposed to compete? This is the New York high society we’re talking about, not some public school. She’ll flop in a month and then all we’re be hearing about is her first stint in rehab.

Anchor Two: *Laughs* Oh, stop it!

Anchor One: Mark my words; rehab in a year and divorced in two.

Texting Conversation Between Honey and Peaches

Peaches: So…

Peaches: How ya holding up, Riles?

Honey: I’m fine, Maya.

Peaches: Riley

Honey: I mean, I just don’t get it! They have no idea who I am! They don’t know anything about me and Farkle! And they can still just write us off as ‘rehab in a year and divorced in two’?

Honey: It’s bullshit.

Peaches: Damn, my girl is hot and bothered. I’m kinda proud, to be honest ; )

Honey: I’m tired, Maya. Not really in the mood.

Peaches: What did the Nerd say?

Honey: Maya, what did I say about calling my husband that?

Peaches: Not recalling at the moment.

Honey: He said the same thing I am. It’s bullshit…and that he loves me.

Peaches: Gag

Honey: Maya!

Peaches: Who cares what they say?

Peaches: They. Are. Assholes. Honey. Without any lives of their own.

Peaches: Who cares if you grew up without all of the money and Farkle practically bathed in it?

Peaches: You and Dweeb are perfect for each other, anyone with a brain can see that.

Honey: Farkle’s Mom doesn’t.

Peaches: Like a said, WITH A BRAIN

Talk-Show Host: Okay, okay, Jennifer, you know I have to ask…

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: Oh here we go!

Talk-Show Host: So, you’re a mother-in-law now? What was your reaction to that? Especially with a daughter-in-law like…well, like Riley Matthews.

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: Honestly?

Talk-Show Host: We’re all friends, here, Jennifer!

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: Well, my first thought was ‘Oh god, he knocked her up’

*Crowd laughs*

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: It’s true! I mean, sure he’d been running off with her from time to time for months but it wasn’t serious!

Talk-Show Host: It wasn’t? So, How did they end up married?

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: *Scoffs* I love my son, but he’ll do anything to prove a point. Even marry some low-class, bed-buddy of his just to show me and his father that he can *raises her hands to use quotations* ‘make his own choices’. Please.

Talk-Show Host: Oh my. So I can assume you and the daughter-in-law…?

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: We don’t see eye-to-eye.

Talk-Show Host: But this is the girl your son picked. Obviously, he wants to spend the rest of his life with her?

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: They ‘dated’, if you can even call their little hook-ups and late night booty calls that, for a year. He doesn’t even know her, he’s just under her spell.

Talk-Show Host: Do you think Ms. Matthews, sorry Mrs. Matthews-Minkus, has ulterior motives for marrying into your family?

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: Does the sun shine, sweetie? Of course, that little leech has another motive. She’s been poor her whole life and a rich boy looked her way! Can you really expect anything else from her kind of people? I mean, the girl’s best friend has a police record, for god’s sake!

Talk-Show Host: Are you giving us an exclusive, Jennifer!?

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: *Shrugs* Oh sure! Why not? *Leans forward* She grew up with this little delinquent named Maya Harris or Hart or something like that. And this girl! Let me tell you, I’m positive she stole some silver the first time Farkle brought the pair of them around. And the manners, you would not believe!

Talk-Show Host: Oh my god!

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: I know! What was my son thinking?

Talk-Show Host: Maybe he thinks he’s really in love?

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: And maybe he is, I don’t know. But I do know one thing; it’s not going to last. She and her little BFF are a phase and I’ll be glad to see them both go.

Talk-Show Host: Well… that’s all we have time for tonight. Thank you! Jennifer Bassett-Minkus, everyone!

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus: Oh no, thank you!

Phone call between Farkle Minkus and Jennifer Bassett-Minkus

*Riiiing….Riiiing….Riiing*

Jennifer: Jennifer Bassett-Minkus speaking.

Farkle: Mom. What the fuck was that?

Jennifer: Farkle, I have about a million things going on my life right now that do not revolve around you; you’ll have to be more specific.

Farkle: Bullshit, you know exactly what!

Jennifer: If you’re going to continue to curse like this, I’m just going to hang up. Not that I’m particularly surprised, considering the company you keep.

Farkle: That, Mom. That right there is what I’m talking about. Spouting crap about Riley and Maya? You cannot go on live television and talk about my wife that way!

Jennifer: Truthfully, you mean?

Farkle: Not a word of that was the truth and you know it! You made Riley cry, Mom! She locked herself in the bedroom, sobbing, and I can’t get her to come out!

Jennifer: Perhaps your wife, as you insist on calling her, should grow some thicker skin. What I said is nothing compared to what the tabloids and the tweets and the public will say.

Farkle: Yeah, but they don’t know Riley! You do! You know better.

Jennifer: You’re right, Farkle. I do know Riley better, but apparently, you don’t. You are just so caught up in this girl! She’s a parasite, Sweetie! How do you honestly not see that?

Farkle: *Long Pause* Mother, I’m going to ask you very politely, which you don’t deserve, to never say that again about the woman that I love. Please, don’t do that again?

Jennifer: Would else would you call something that latches on to a better, more powerful organism with the sole purpose of bleeding it dry? Because that’s her plan, Farkle, whether you want to see that or not.

Farkle: And what about you, Mom? Hmm? Don’t you think you’re being at all hypocritical?

Jennifer: What’s that supposed to mean?

Farkle: You and Dad? You got married six months before I was born! That’s why you figured Riley had to be ‘knocked up’, right? Because that was your plan?

Jennifer: How dare you?!

Farkle: ‘How dare I?’ How dare you, Mother?

Jennifer: You have no idea what you’re talking about, Farkle! And even if you’re little theory was right, I still belonged in this life. Riley Matthews does not. She never will.

Farkle: I- I can’t even talk to you anymore right now. Bye.

Jennifer: Farkle-

*Dial tone*

What Makes a Woman Powerful?: A Closer Look at New York’s High Society

By: Riley Matthews-Minkus

What makes a woman powerful?

In today’s society, with a new social conflict every other day and a government that just loves to turn a blind eye, I think it’s a fair question.

Is it her beauty?

Because socialites, like Jennifer Bassett-Minkus, are definitely beautiful. The woman stands regal and tall, dominating any room she graces with her presence. Her blonde hair distinguishes her in a crowd and those eyes tell tales of wisdom that go far over the heads of those beneath her.

Is it her intelligence?

Jennifer Bassett-Minkus is incredibly intelligent. Honestly, it bewildered me upon my first meeting with the woman. She easily articulates herself such a way that you feel, without question, that she is smarter than you. Odds are that she is. She’s Harvard educated, you know, and married to a man that most of America agrees in one of the most brilliant minds to walk amongst us today. She’s the mother of the ‘Next Einstein’.

Is it her morals?

See, this is where I find an inconsistency in the data.

Because Jennifer Bassett-Minkus has no morals. She does not sympathize with those less fortunate than her. She does not care that millions in her country work nine-to-five, minimum wage jobs and still cannot feed their families. She does not fight or speak for those too fearful or unable to speak for themselves.

But she’s still powerful.

No one, especially not you, dear reader, can dispute that.

You see her style and you mimic it.

You watch her choices and you trust them

You listen to her words and you believe them.

Without fail, without independent thought, because she’s Jennifer Bassett-Minkus and she’s powerful, so you mimic, you trust, you believe.

So it is not morals that make a woman powerful, but that doesn’t mean that it shouldn’t be.

A new generation of women is coming into power. Women who do care about the poor. Women who do give their own resources just so that another may suffer less. Women who fight like hell and don’t back down just because someone else feels that they should be seen and not heard.

Those are the women to mimic. Those are the women to trust. Those are the women to believe in.

Root for them!

Stop being so enamored by women like Jennifer Bassett-Minkus and start looking to the ones that have morals, that have love and fire in their souls.

Because here’s the real secret, so read carefully: You, those who view her, give a woman power.

Stop giving power to Jennifer Bassett-Minkus and start giving it to the right women!

Dear Mrs. Matthews-Minkus,

I regret to inform you that the major media outlet of the New York Times has decided to terminate your employment.

You are, without question, a very talented journalist and we are very grateful for the work you have done for use in these three years. However, you are aware that there have been several times where you were explicitly told not to voice an opinion or viewpoint and did not heed that warning.

You were warned. You were given an explanation. Nevertheless, you persisted.

This cannot be tolerated and your recent personal attack on Jennifer Bassett-Minkus was the last straw. The article was incredibly inappropriate for you to publish, as the subject’s daughter-in-law, and filled with information that has no ground nor evidence. You are lucky Mrs. Bassett-Minkus has no decided to press libel charges.

You have become a liability to the establishment and this cannot continue.

You are hereby official terminated from your position of Senior Journalist at the New York Times

Sincerely,

Jessica Denmen Personal Assistant to the CEO of the New York Times

Texting Conversation between My Babe and My Love:

My Babe: Are you busy at work?

My Love: Never too busy for you…

My Love: Why?

My Babe: I just… really need you right now.

*Riiing…Riiing…Riiing*

Riley: I’m fine! Really, I just really miss you and if you’re too busy, I under- *Breaks into a sob*

Farkle: Riley… What happened?

Riley: They, uh, they fired me. So, now I am your unemployed, rehab-bound, personal slut-turned wife. *Takes a deep breath* God, I don’t know what to do anymore! It’s never going to get better, Farkle! She’s always going to hate me and, you know, maybe she’s right? We both know I don’t fit in with those people, in that world.

Farkle: So what?! Riley, you fit in with me and you are the center of my world. You can do this! We can do this! Who cares what a bunch of dicks with silver spoons up their asses think?

Riley: *Sigh* Can you- can you just come home?

Farkle: I’m already on my way, Babe.

Riley: Farkle?

Farkle: Yeah?

Riley: I love you.

Farkle: And I love you. How does Italian sound for dinner, by the way? And Ben & Jerry’s for dessert?

Riley: Fuck, you are truly perfect.

Anchor One: This just in! The entirety of the Minkus Family Trust has been drained, leaving the family to live solely of off their profits from the Minkus International company.

Anchor Two: Currently, it is believed Riley Matthews-Minkus, recently fired from the New York Times, is behind the hack and subsequent theft of the Minkus family. It is unknown at this time whether or not the family will move to press charges against Matthews-Minkus.

Anchor One: Both Farkle Minkus and Riley Matthews-Minkus were unavailable for comment.

And that is the first part of The Lucky Ones! Experimenting with this format for this two-shot, do you like? Do you hate? Let me know! Kisses!

Current Coming Soon List:

Missed Moments of Pluto and Mars (A Future Snapshot Collection Companion)

Birthdays, First Times, and Letters from Princeton (A Future Snapshot)

The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love Pt. 4

Little Drunk, Lotta Careless (A Future Snapshot)

We’re Always on the Same Team (A Future Snapshot)

The Lucky Ones Pt. 2 (A Socialite AU)

Crazy Kids (A Future Snapshot)

[bitchesgonnabemad]

daddys girl

This is my first ever imagine, so if you like it please let me know. I want to make this story multi-chapter.

Tama Tonga Story.

masterlist

______________________________________________________________

I always like to fight, that was my way of releasing some of the pain and anger that was always in my life. My dad wasn't in my life as much as I needed him to be. To this day I remember when police came to our home and took him. I was twelve and that was the first time I had my heart broken. My father was sentenced to 15 years for assault, he beat drug buddy of my mother. My dad was my hero even if he did some bad things.

 After he was taken I was left with my drug addicted mom, along with my older and younger brothers. My mom never took care of me or my brothers; the only memory of her that I have is her lying in bed, passed out. My older brother, he is the younger version of our dad. When my dad was gone, James was somebody I could always lean on. Then there was my little brother Rakim. I was 16 when it happened. It was Saturday around 9 pm when I came home. I walked in and I saw him lying on the living room floor in a pool of blood. He was shot because my mother couldn't afford drugs anymore and she stole them. Since that day my mother became dead to me.

 After my brother’s funeral I stared fighting in the streets, bars, parking lots. One day I saw an episode of Monday Night RAW and that's when I knew what I wanted to do. I could fight and get paid for it. For me it was heaven on earth. I did some tryouts for WWE but they told me I was not what they were looking for, so I showed them the middle finger and flew to Japan.

 I wrestled in Japan for almost a year but I got injured, bad. I had to retire at 26 years old. I thought it was over for me there, but they wanted me to stay and help them manage the whole thing.

 I don't even know when Tama came in to my life. He just simply ran into me one day, literally RAN into me at some event. The same night he invited me for drinks to apologize. After that it was another night out for drinks, and another, and another. We got together after 5 nights out. We had been together for almost a year. I mean, shit, we lived together.

 I had a lot of work in Tokyo and couldn't go with him to Osaka for a show. I finished early and wanted to surprise him a night before his show. I arrived at the hotel around 11 p.m.. When I saw the entire Bullet Club sitting in a hotel bar, I wanted to approach them but knew boys need some boy time, so I went to check in and then went to my room. The whole time in the elevator I thought about what to say to him when I knocked on his door. I had on his favourtie set of black lingerie.

 When the elevator door opened on his floor I saw him, in a full-out make out session with some girl. They didn't even realize that I was there. When he looked in the direction I was standing, the look on his face, I will never forget that. He looked shocked, confused, guilty. I just simply walked right passed them as if nothing has happened.

 "(Y/N)". He reached out to grab my hand but I just pushed it away. "(Y/N) let me explain, babygirl please…." He reached out again and this time I slapped his hand away.

 "No Tama, I think I saw enough." I wanted to cry so bad but I refused to show him that.

 I turned my back to him and started walking to my room. When the door closed, I lost it, and started crying. I laid in the bed for an hour or hours who knows. The thing that hurt most was not the fact that he kissed another girl. It was the fact that he was in the same hotel, on the same floor, two rooms away from mine, and didn't try to reach out; no call, no text, no knock on the door. And at that moment my father's words kept going through my head: "If someone can fall asleep knowing you're crying, knowing you're hurting or didn't get home safe, they don't care for you." Damn, I missed my dad so much.

 I got up, got my shit together, and went back to Tokyo thinking about whole situation. When I got home I packed everything I could of mine and went to my best friend Isis. She was shocked when I told her at first. She liked Tama. She always was teasing me about how cute our kids would be. She wanted to go there and kill him but I told her it's not worth it. He's not even home; I mean God knows where he is now.

 The next day my phone was blowing up with calls, texts, facetimes not only from Tama but from his brother and other members on Bullet Club. Shit, took him only two days to realize I wasn't even at our place. I decided to just turn my phone off. I didn’t have the energy to deal with this bullshit. I got back to dealing with paperwork. A knock on my room door got me out of my work.

 "Come in," I said sitting up on my bed.

 "(Y/N) stop mopping around, get your ass out of this fucking bed, put something sexy we going out," Isis said leaning against the door frame.

 "But…," I started but was cut off.

 "No, no, no I don't want to hear it! Get ready," she said then turned on her heel and went to her room.

 "Fuck my life...," I said to myself as I got up and went to bathroom to get a shower. I knew there was no point in fighting with Isis on this. I straightened my hair, kept my make-up simple but still cute, and put on a short white dress. I looked average. I didn't want to get to much attention either way. I acted like I didn't care at all about the situation with Tama. I loved him, I fucking did, but I couldn’t let people see me as a weak bitch who got fucked over by some boy. This wasn't the first time he went without me to shows. So the only thought that was running through my mind was, was it the first time he did something like that?

 "You’re not wearing that," Isis got me out of my thoughts.

 "Bitch you almost gave me a heart attack," I said holding my chest. She just laughed at me. She looked at me one more time and went to my closet, getting out a black dress I brought years ago. Tama never wanted me to wear it and I didn't. He said it was too revealing but now I do not give a fuck.

 "Put this on," she handed me the dress. I didn't argue. I put it on, and matched it with black pumps. Before I left my room I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. The freaking dress was ideal for my body.

 "Keep on doing what you’re doing and you’re going to lose all of it," I said to myself, while I had only one man on my mind.

 When we got to the bar it was crowded more than usual. Isis and I sat by the bar and ordered some drinks. Not even a half hour in, Isis was already flirting with some boy. I just sat there sipping my drink, minding my own business. A couple guys tried to approach me, buy me drink or dance with me, but I was in no mood for any male attention. I decided to turn my phone on but started to regret doing that the second all the notifications started popping in. So I turned it off again.

 I switched my position on the bar stool and looked over the people in the bar. My eyes locked with no other than Jay Briscoe. God knows what he's doing here but I waved to him to come over. I had known Jay for years and I always had a little crush on him, but he's married and I don't do married man. My grandma always said that dealing with married men brought bad karma. But a little flirting never hurt, so fuck it.

 "What you doing here girl?" Jay said to me and pulled me for a hug.

 "Well, supposed to be girl’s night out but my friend here," I said pointing at Isis, "I guess she is trying to fuck somebody tonight." I laughed and felt Isis push my arm and roll her eyes at me. "But what are you doing here? You’re in Japan for what?"

 "I'm here to fight your boy and this other motherfucker for the Tag Team Championships with Mark," he said clearly getting annoyed for no reason. I simply nodded.

 "Speaking of Mark, where is he?" I asked breaking the awkward silence.

 "He's at the hotel. Want to go and see him?" he asked and licked his lips. I raised my eyebrow at him. I knew what he wanted from me, we had some pointless sex in the past. But back then he didn't have a wife. But shit if he wanted to flirt it's fine; I'm going to play along.

 "Are you trying to fuck Mr. Briscoe?" I asked getting a little closer to him.

 "Maybe.."

 That was the last thing he said to me before somebody hit him straight in his face. I was shocked. What the fuck just happened? I looked at the man who punched Jay.

 Tama fucking Tonga.

 How in the hell did he know I was here?! I looked at the direction he came from and saw the entire Bullet Club sitting in the booth in the far corner. They had to have been here the whole fucking time.

 After a minute, finally Kenny, Fale and Tanga came and tried to separate them. They kept going at each other, throwing all sorts of curses at each other. I didn't pay attention to anything they were saying but one line caught me by surprise.

 "If ya girl was happy she wouldn't try get with anybody else," Jay screamed and then looked at me. His gaze changed like he was trying to apologize for the whole situation. Then he looked back at Tama. "I'm gonna see your bitch ass in the ring," he screamed at him once more and then left.

 "Let's go," Isis said, grabbing my arm and nodding towards the exit. Before I could get my purse Tama grabbed me by my waist.

 "You’re not going anywhere, we are going to talk about this," he said trying to look in my eyes but I couldn't look at him right then.

 Let's get it over with, I thought to myself.

 "She's not going to talk to you, not now not tomorrow, not ever," Isis stepped between us. She was clearly still pissed at him after what he did to me.

 "Stay out of this," Tama coldly replied not looking at Isis, still trying to find my gaze. "It's not your business.”

 "It's my business," she said.

 "How so?" he replied finally looking at Isis.

"When she's crying over your dumbass in my apartment, in my bed, eating my food and drinking my alcohol, that's when it became my business," she said, her voice raising into a scream by the end.

 I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed my purse and left feeling defeated. I caught a cab before either Isis or Tama could catch me. I decided to spend the night at a hotel.

 After I checked in and got to my room, I turned my phone on allowing all the notifications to pop in. Instead of looking at them, I went to get a shower. After my shower, I got into bed only in the hotel robe. I looked through all the missed calls and texts then. I ignored almost all of it. I sent a quick text to Isis telling her I was fine. I put my phone on the nightstand and turned the lamp off.

 Not even a minute after, my phone started ringing. At first I didn't even want to see who it was but I picked it up anyways, not looking at who was it.

 "Whoever it is, go fuck yourself," I said angrily.

 "If that's the way you’re going to speak to your older brother, you’re clearly out of your damn mind."

 Oh shit it's James.

 "OH MY GOD," I screamed. "I'm sorry," I said sitting up in bed.

 "I've been trying to reach you for two days, where were you?"

 What I'm supposed to say to him…fuck not now.

 "It's a long story," I simply replied.

 "Don't tell me. I have something better."

 "What?"

 "Dad's getting out of jail in 2 weeks. They shortened his sentence"

[lawrenceremodel]

Nas Denies Kelis Abuse Allegations While Pleading 'We Should Be Better Examples' for Son Knight

Some five months after his ex wife Kelis accused him of mental and physical abuse in an in-depth interview with Hollywood Unlocked, Nas is telling his side of the story.

On Thursday, the rapper, 44, shared a series of seven plain black Instagram posts with lengthy captions that explain his relationship with the “Milkshake” singer, 39 — especially in relation to the child they share, a boy named Knight Jones, born in July 2009.

“PART 1. The Price I Pay To See My Son,” he began before explaining that “a call from Essence about wife doing another sad fictitious story” prompted him to speak out.

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PART 1. The Price i Pay To See My Son. And apologies in advance for the typos as I am speaking from the heart as a man who has had enough. Today i got a call from essence about my ex wife doing another sad fictitious story. Nothing surprises me anymore, including this. This is what your life has come to sis? Exploiting some people’s Real struggle and pain…just to get at me….to get attention ? Fame? Another fight against men? We are a human family and we should be better examples for our son. Why is there even a issue for me to have time with my son. A son needs his father. So many absentee fathers out here and here i am being attacked by your accusations simply because i got us in court to help fix this the custody matter? Why did i have to take you to court to see our son? Why when i win the joint custody ( which is a win for both of us and our son, it helps us with both our schedules) why do you feel thats an attack on you? Is it control ? Why do you need to have control over my life? because we’re not together? Then why? Is this being rewarded and praised by people who are being taken advantage of by you and your lies? To all separated couples out there who are cordial and co parent nicely GOOD FOR YOU. I wish that was me. I’m the most chill cool parent there is. Who has time to argue ? About what? It’s about our little guy. You haven’t had to deal with what I’ve been dealing with. Trust me. I’m a mild mannered god fearing very fair human being who tries his hardest to please everyone. It’s my nature. I’ve seen this too many times before And there was times i thought Kelis my ex wife was not this type. This is the type of antics that deceive people and people mistakenly call it strong. Seems I always had more belief in you than you do for yourself. I instilled strength in my daughter who you were already so jealous of and treated poorly. Being jealous & verbally abusive to a Little girl.

A post shared by Nasir Jones (@nas) on Sep 6, 2018 at 4:54pm PDT

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PART 2. In life you have to work hard to be successful, not try to tear someone down for that’s the most coward way. Women are the essence of life. I cherish them. My strength is given to me from my mother. I am everything she taught me to be. I was raised in a single home by a single woman. I am a very proud black man. I shouldn’t have ignored the signs from your your first song and video I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW. But I thought you was beautiful. You came into my life at a time i was grieving from my moms passing. You was a friend. Because of that i wanted to marry you. And i did. And we had a big lavish wedding. Overall there was too many good times. I have to say i wasn’t the most faithful husband. I was immature. I’m sorry about that. But you bumped your own head sis. Why do i have to live thru a constant divorce? It didn’t work out. Life goes on. I’m not coming back to you. Your married and im happy for you and I’m a extremely happy black brother out here trying to make a difference for my kids and the next generation of young people who see me as huge inspiration in music, art,business, education and so on. After 10 years of keeping my silence during a decade of dealing with very hostile behavior and verbal abuse and even your stepfather holding you back from one of your physical violent Attacks on me right outside your house THIS YEAR while trying to pick up our son while he watched from the window, it was my weekend and you denied me that because your parents were in town. I just went home. This has been my life for my son’s entire life. Even our son wonders why you treat me the way you do?

A post shared by Nasir Jones (@nas) on Sep 6, 2018 at 4:55pm PDT

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He continues, “Nothing surprises me anymore, including this … We are a human family and we should be better examples for our son. Why is there even a issue for me to have time with my son. A son needs his father.”

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PART 3. There’s some seriously crazy things i won’t i disclose for our son’s sake. Because you keep my son from me ive been going thru lawyers to stop you from this bullshit I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you painting a bad picture of me. I’ve been tired of it but you never seem to get tired. I even had to be in a relationship with you AGAIN after we separated just so i could see my son & I AM JUST TIRED. Back then you asked me why didn’t i stop the divorce from happening. I tried! We are too different. Some things aren’t meant to be. We were meant to be so that we could have our son. Nothing more. You didn’t like that. I prayed for your peace of mind for years because of your uneasy soul. I still do. I guess some things take time. You definitely don’t know me now and probably never knew me. You make up this image of me that’s not true but it’s funny because it’s really you describing yourself. You made up stories about me and claimed i did things that YOU DID. I hate all this, but you were a very jealous wife, and i had to deal with that and that’s the worst feeling. How much heat i had to take from producers, writers, music attorneys and record execs etc who felt your mean spirited wrath and dropped you from labels, from startrack to them all. I stopped talking to jungle & steve stoute because of you & almost lost Anthony because of you.

A post shared by Nasir Jones (@nas) on Sep 6, 2018 at 4:58pm PDT

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PART 4. You used to turn my phone off so my professionals couldn’t reach me and take the battery. You insulted any and everyone whoever was around me. Not a single person in my life loved or could even stand you. Luckily for you our assistants all signed NDA’s or you would have a list of men and women who would happily talk about how verbally abusive and evil you are. Your self saboteur ways has caused you your grief your dealing with. Not me. The altercations you speak of are no more different from what most normal couples go thru, but your exaggerated version is UNJUST. Whenever one is constantly attacked the instinct is to restrain that person or defend yourself to prevent escalation. In hindsight now my advice to young men out there in a situation like that is to RUN at the very first sign of verbal abuse or physical. I herd you said terrible things about me. It makes me feel sad how heartless you can be. You play with strong women’s struggles like they mean nothing. You’re taking advantage of a moment in time where women who are fighting for their lives to get justice and be treated fairly & you just looked at it as an opportunity to get ahead. Like abuse is a game? Like tearing down your son’s father is a game. You have a son! Why are you still competing with me by telling him bad things about me. Guess what sis, he has eyes and ears and smart as ever. i don’t have to say anything. I think he knows what’s really good. You will NOT stop me from fighting for my son. You tell him GOD doesn’t love his dad because his dad doesn’t goto church.

A post shared by Nasir Jones (@nas) on Sep 6, 2018 at 4:59pm PDT

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In the next installment, Nas discussed his view of women and the beginning of his relationship with Kelis, writing, “I was raised in a single home by a single woman. I am a very proud black man. I shouldn’t have ignored the signs from your first song and video I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW. But I thought you was beautiful. You came into my life at a time i was grieving from my moms passing. You was a friend. Because of that i wanted to marry you. And i did.”

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PART 5. Didn’t want to bring up money but since that’s the fuel behind all of this Let me say that I gave you the tools to be successful after you was dropped from your label. I paid for your cooking school cordon blue. The expensive yellow stove we had flown in from Europe. I helped pay for the remodeling of your house. Your assistant stole thousands from my cc according to Amex. Out of all people you should be completely understanding of my my grind. But you just can’t win with you. My schedule is CRAZY but you never help me see my son. I’m hardly allowed to talk to him on the phone. Ever. My lawyer told me bring the cops to your house and show my court orders when you don’t let me get him or answer your phone but who besides you wants to show their kids that his parents are that out of control? I’ve been going thru lawyers to stop you from this bullshit for years. I finally got our custody together to work with both our schedule thru court, while leaving court you tell me your gonna get me back for fighting to see my son and 3 weeks later you’re on camera doing an interview about “your truth”. Interesting timing. Do what you want just don’t violate another court order sis because the judge won’t like that at all. The judge already ordered you to pay my legal fees because he was tired of you wasting everyone’s time in court. No lawyer wants to represent you after what you put them thru. That’s why you texted me today asking me for more child support money-and you want to keep it out court. You will NOT stop me from fighting for my son. Remember GOD sees all. And I’m no longer allowing you to take advantage of the fact that I did not want to respond in a manner that could affect my kids , friends or family publicly. THAT ENDS TODAY.

A post shared by Nasir Jones (@nas) on Sep 6, 2018 at 5:06pm PDT

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PART 6. Everything with her is a plot and a scheme. Has no merit. No foundation I didn’t Wana speak up because i have real respect for our women. And definitely my son. I do not beat women. I did not beat up my ex wife. Stop. You got beat up in court. How much money do you want? Do you want me to relinquish my rights to see my son is that what you want? Just tell me. After all the tweets and posts you made thru the years disrespecting me and my family I still have love for you as the mother of my child BUT I am done with this. This game ends now and GOD will be the judger of all this. And although you tell everyone GOD hates me (some Christian you are) I will survive and thrive from this moment because I know who I am & you have not a clue who you are.

A post shared by Nasir Jones (@nas) on Sep 6, 2018 at 5:07pm PDT

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Nas continued, taking shots at Kelis’ character: “You insulted any and everyone whoever was around me. Not a single person in my life loved or could even stand you. Luckily for you our assistants all signed NDA’s or you would have a list of men and women who would happily talk about how verbally abusive and evil you are.”

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PART 7. And to all the fans that knew my silence was due to the fact that I don’t openly do this kind of petty shit… I appreciate you riding. And to those that were lead down a wrong path… I get it… very sensitive times and all things must be taken seriously. This is MY TRUTH. And I don’t care what else she has left to say unless it concerns our son. This is the first and last time I’m addressing this. Despite all of this I still hope for the best for her because whats best for her is what’s best for Knight. Love, NASIR BIN OLU DARA JONES

A post shared by Nasir Jones (@nas) on Sep 6, 2018 at 5:10pm PDT

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Then, the “I Can” hitmaker addressed the custody arrangement he and Kelis reached in March and the Hollywood Unlocked interview: “I finally got our custody together to work with both our schedule thru court, while leaving court you tell me your gonna get me back for fighting to see my son and 3 weeks later you’re on camera doing an interview about ‘your truth’. Interesting timing.” He also urged her not to “violate another court order.”

RELATED: Victoria Beckham Slams Divorce Rumors as She Poses with Husband David: ‘We’re Stronger Together’

In part six of seven, Nas explicitly denied the abuse allegations: “I do not beat women. I did not beat up my ex wife. Stop. You got beat up in court. How much money do you want? Do you want me to relinquish my rights to see my son is that what you want? Just tell me.”

And to conclude, the rapper explained that he had stayed silent for so long because he doesn’t “do this kind of petty s—” adding, “This is MY TRUTH. And I don’t care what else she has left to say unless it concerns our son. This is the first and last time I’m addressing this. Despite all of this I still hope for the best for her because whats best for her is what’s best for Knight.”

RELATED: Kelis Lists $1.9 Million L.A. Home and Announces ‘We’re Buying a Farm’

Nas and Kelis divorced in 2010 but did not reach a custody agreement regarding Knight until March of this year. According to TMZ, they have also been battling over the amount of child support Nas should pay. Kelis is also mother to Shepherd Mora, born in November 2015. She is married to Mike Mora.

This past April marks the first time Kelis spoke out about her relationship with Nas, calling it a “really dark” time in her life. “There was a lot of drinking. There was a lot of mental and physical abuse,” she recalled. “I probably would have stayed longer had I not been pregnant because I really did love him and because we were married. We weren’t dating, we were married. Like, this was my person.”

RELATED: Kelis Accuses Ex Nas of ‘Mental and Physical Abuse’ During 5-Year Marriage: ‘It Was Really Dark’

She continued, “I’ve waited nine years to say anything. I have never talked about this man, ever. The amount of airing out that I could do, and I’ve chosen not to … Our kids will find out. They’re finding out now. I’ve never painted myself as a saint. Did he hit me? Mmhm. Did I hit him back? Mmhm.”

from DIYS https://ift.tt/2NVDOox

[ashestoashtos]

Dear Emily,

As much shit as we've been through, I can honestly say you've become one of my closest friends. Although you've only opened up a few times, I can say that I could tell you anything. You're courageous, and always sticking up for what you believe in. You are always calling people out on their bullshit, and it's admirable. It's one of the more beautiful qualities about you. That's why this is heartbreaking. In some short months, I've noticed a slight change in your demeanor. In the winter time when you started Mr. Pita, you were frequenting Mark's house. You were on top of your pool game, were doing great in school, you did art every single day, along with cooking, lists, and even winter adventures. Alexis and Anya were over every Friday or Saturday night. You guys did art, sang songs, and talked deeply about life until morning. Eventually Ivan came along and we loved him. He danced, talked, made jokes. Then something inside of you shriveled. I don't just say this to agree with everyone else, I've been on your side 100% from the beginning. I just notice you don't do half the things you used to. You don't talk to as many people, you don't do art as often. You even failed a class and kept being behind because of late nights with Ivan. I know it's a part of rebelling as a teenager, going against your parents word, staying up late, and boys. But him stealing from your brother is unacceptable. He stole from me, your dad, your family, and you. It all started with my brand new vape. We couldn't find it for an hour, he even helped us look, to find out it was in his pocket. Then, it was 15 dollars here and there from the box. Then it was shrooms when we went on vacation, all of the weed, 400 dollars, my speaker, Abbeys backpack, Dave's pants, your wallet, my 2 dollars, our wraps, the tablet. It all lines up. You never have a phone anymore. No one can talk to you without having to go through him. He hurt you, you said he bit you, you punched him. He wrestled with you into the wall and sprained your wrist. There's always bruises on you. I even heard you say, "why can't we just have a conversation? All I want is to sit down and talk to you." To which he replied, "can't we just cuddle?"(have sex?)

Everyone in your life is worried foe you. He controls your finances, your social media, where you go, what you say, and what you do. He threatened your mom, Emily. He threw lit cigarettes at your best friends leg, he threw things at my head. He lights himself on fire, tattoos himself, stands in front of moving cars on the street. Not to mention Angie.

Emily, you are such a brilliant individual. You have such a unique taste for fine literature, cooking, and abstract art. You are not to be taken for granted, used, or to be made to feel responsible for someone who is abusive. I can tell you're afraid of the consequences of when you leave him. You might feel like you are alone or are dealing with someone who's too powerful, or rich. He is just a person. It is just a person. He can't hurt you if you don't let him. He abuses your sister verbally, he has kicked our cats and abused them physically. We have all witnessed this.

Is this someone you want to spend forever with, in a remote location in Alaska, without your family and friends? I was in an abusive relationship too. Let me tell you about Chris.

When I first met Chris, he was full of lies about cool things he'd done, and can do. He was always charismatic, and could sing. He made me feel so good at first. It started with me finding out about him and Myles making a bet over who could sleep with Marcy first. Marcy was so mad at me foe dating him. She said he's a very angry person, he's abusive. He's always been that way in school. I told her she was wrong, he was the sweetest guy I'd ever met.

Fast forward to him telling me that his parents kicked him out. His mom didn't love him, he would say. He moved in, and quickly things went sour. He made me stop being friends with Marcy first. Then, we met alejandro. He was a Puerto Rican who loved telling jokes and donating to charity. We all hung out in the park, constantly smoking. I once went to give him a ride from work since we worked next to each other. Chris considered him his best friend, so I didn't think anyone would mind. In exchange for this favor, he bought me some food. Chris freaked. I got home and I was belittled and berated for hours. He would say things like, "Why would you just leave me here waiting? I had something fun planned. You're not considerate at all. You're just cheating on me. My friend alejandro rapes girls, doesn't even ask them for permission before. Why do we hang out with him anyways?" And that was that, he wasn't our friend anymore all of the sudden.

Then with the lies. I found out he would lie and exaggerate about the smallest things. He would say he met Johnny depp, his father tattooed him when he was young, he had his ears pierced, that alejandro didn't know what an egg was. He told me so many lies, I had to write them down to keep track. He would constantly tell me my mom would say things she didn't. He even threatened to slaughter my family for my mother's birthday as a present to her. His mother never kicked him out, she missed him and wondered where he was. He didn't have a license or insurance on his vehicle. He would make my brother feel excluded. He would lie to my brother and make him believe crazy stories so that he would repeat them and feel crazy. He told me he wanted to be a woman. He told me he was gay at first, even.

Then it progressed. I couldn't even leave the room we were in without him demanding to know where I was, and how long I would be gone for. He would say, "your family doesn't understand me, I don't know why you'd choose them over me." He wouldn't even let me go to the bathroom alone. He always took my phone, messaged everyone for me. I couldn't even have a private phone call.

I wanted to see what the fuck was wrong with him.

I tripped with him.

He told me his dad raped him constantly from when he was 2 until 12. He lived in Alabama and couldn't get help from his family in michigan. He said his dad would hurt people physically. He would make him kill animals, and gut them for sport. With his hands.

After that, he accidentally let me see a note he wrote in his phone when trying to show me his "poetry". It was details of him talking about how he would kill his mother. Pages and pages of it.

The sex was also so scary. He would constantly pressure me to have sex. Anytime we were alone. He had sadistic fantasies. He would hold knives to my throat. He would choke me, hard. He would bite me, slap me, and call me worthless. He broke my bed. He would watch gruesome porn in front of me. He never wanted to stop having sex.

He would never let us hang out with people for more than 30-60 minutes tops. He would text me the entire time getting into silent arguments about going home. He made me give him all my money, he quit his job to see me. He couldn't hold a job to save his life. He never wanted to talk about anything but his needs.

We got into a car crash going 90 mph southbound by Stephenson and 11 mile because I was TEN minutes late. I was with a friend and we were picking up cake mix to make a cake. He decided he needed me to leave right then.

He tried to get my friends (the ones he told me i could have) involved with us sexually. Maria, megan, Annie.

What this should mean to you is that it took my mom threatening his life and for him to move away for me to get out. I was in it for 8 months, telling myself we would be married, and go live in a shack in the woods, off the grid. He wanted to steal me from the world. He wanted to take away my precious gift of decision. He made me nothing. I see it happening to you, similar things. It makes me cry at night sometimes while Davey is asleep. It makes your mother cry, I've seen it. It makes Abbey cry. Mark misses you. Anya and Alexis are so worried for you. It took me almost 2 years to recover from my last relationship. Davey and I couldn't be physical normally for a long time. I couldn't show affection right, I couldn't be passionate. I was afraid to be alive. I didn't know what real love is.

You are so bright, and loving. I know how loyal you are to those around you. This shouldn't be one of those cases. You are better than him. Every day, he makes a new reason to be mad at you. Every day, he picks what you guys do. Every day, he takes a bit more from you. I hate seeing this. I just want Emily back. I just want to know the real Emily, unadulterated. I want to be best friends again. I miss you. I'm crying writing this, so if the English sucks, I'm sorry.

Sincerely,

Rae