#me who had just told her that insanity means complete loss with reality which is not what is going on with the character: what

[thebitchbehindtheslaughter]

Okay so, having been writing Lumberville for eight years now, I knew that most people don’t understand the definition of insanity, but I didn’t know people would try to argue with you on it? And start questioning your morals when you tell them that an evil character isn’t insane “despite what they’ve done”??

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14

Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse

You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.

It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.

You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.

"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"

"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."

You leaned against the door. "Oh?"

"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.

"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."

"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.

"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."

"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"

Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."

You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.

"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"

Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."

"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."

"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."

You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."

"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.

"Hm?"

You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Max returned the smile. "Of course not."

You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.

"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.

"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.

Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.

"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."

"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.

"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.

"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.

"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."

Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."

"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."

"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.

"Hannibal-"

"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."

"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.

Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."

"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."

You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time. 

“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember. 

“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.” 

You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.” 

“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].” 

You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found. 

“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.” 

Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.” 

“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.” 

“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story. 

“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.” 

"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."

You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"

"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."

"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."

"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.

"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."

"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.

"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."

Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."

You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.

"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."

"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."

"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."

"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"

"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."

"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."

"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."

You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.

"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.

"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."

"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."

"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.

"I know." You conceded.

He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.

"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."

You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."

[bluebellwriting]

Love Me Tender Part 3

(Note: I know Molly hasn’t been confirmed as a demon nor is she in Hell, but for the sake of the story, I’m saying that she is a demon and she is in Hell. There’s not a lot of information on the spider fam so I’m going to be taking some liberties here)

Sunday dinners at your dad’s home have always a tradition, even when you all were alive. It wasn’t religious, Lord knows if it had been you probably wouldn’t have ended up here. But when your family spends every day of their lives and afterlives meeting with mob bosses, disposing of bodies, and doing drugs, it was nice to have a reason to come together and remind each other that you were all still here. It was because of those dinners and the evenings spent cooking with your Nonna that your love of cooking came to fruition.

Oh, your Nonna. You’ve tried looking for her down here, even though you know that there was no way she was deserving of a place like this. She was a saint, the mother you deserved instead of the mother you actually had. Your mother was cold, lazy, vain, couldn’t care for her children to save her life, judgmental -- she always insisted you try whatever insane weight loss trend was popular. Nonna was kind, understanding, taught you to be tough but also how to take care of those you loved, and never tried to pit you and your sister against each other. She’s honestly the only reason yours and Molly’s relationship survived.

But when she died, you took over as the family’s cook as the only person who could actually make something without burning it. Until you yourself died at the ripe age of 23, long before the rest of your family. Your family doesn’t talk about it much, but you can just imagine what the first dinner without you was like. How sad and empty, how burnt the food must have been if there even was any.

But you’re together again and your dinners were able to survive your family’s plunge into the afterlife. Apparently, so did your family home.

As soon as you entered the threshold of the home, you and Angel were smushed into a hug by Molly.

“My darlings!” She cries. Angel and you snuggle into the warm arms of your sister and wrap your arms around her.

“How are ya, Mol?” Angel asks.

“Oh, ya know, same old, same old.”

“Are those creeps giving you trouble at the store?” You take a step back and eye your sister up and down, looking for any physical manifestation that those creepy men crushing on your sister are up to no good.

“Not since you had a little chat with them, (N/N),” she teases.

Molly’s eyes brighten at the sight of your outfit.

“Ooh! You’re wearing the new skirt and blouse! It’s so pretty on you, (Y/N)! And I know I always say this but you have a great rack girl, ya gotta show it off like this more.”

You blush brightly and cross your arms over your torso.

“Gee thanks, Molly,” you mumble.

“I don’t know how you haven’t found a man yet with that bod!” She squeals and pinches your cheeks.

“Well, since ya mentioned it...” Angel smirks.

“Nope!” You shout and storm further into the house to avoid your baby siblings.

Molly looks back at Angel with an arched brow, the question looming in the air.

You make it to the kitchen, where your father and brother are heating up the food you left here last week. You turn your nose up.

“You know, I could have made something fresh. This is all a week old! And here I thought you were going to cook for once.”

“Very funny, (Y/N),” Niss grumbles, stirring the pasta sauce you had brought over last time.

“How are ya, sweetheart?” Henroin gives you a warm hug, one that is snug and warm and reserved for his unofficially favorite child.

“I’m good, dad. Doing just fine.”

“They’re running you ragged at that hotel.”

“Which means I’m left to pick up the slack,” Niss growls. You pull away from the hug and pull your brother into a forceful hug, just to make him uncomfortable. You were the same height as Niss and a year younger, and as grumpy and infuriating he can be, you always felt the closest to him. You’d like to think he felt the same, considering he scolds you the least. Or maybe that’s just because you’re way stronger than him and you have wrestled him to the ground.

“I know, but I’m doing this for Angel--”

“Anthony,” Niss hisses.

“If he tells me he wants to go by Angel, then I’m calling him Angel.” You narrow your eyes, your irises flashing a dangerous red and your teeth grow into vicious fangs in an instant. Niss rolls his eyes but backs down, trying to hide the shiver that went up his spine.

“I still don’t see how they’re supposed to help him.”

“Neither do I but I genuinely believe that that hotel is his only chance.”

“But why do you have to be there, too?” Your father asks.

“Because I’m the only one who knows how to handle him,” you beam.

“And because she’s dating the Radio Demon,” Molly squeals as she bursts in the kitchen, followed closely by a smirking Angel.

“What?!” Your brother and dad yell.

“I am not dating the Radio Demon, right, Angel?” You stalk over to him and stomp on his foot.

“Ah! Fine, fine. But she’s got him wrapped around her little finger, don’t ya, sis?”

“What the hell does that mean, (Y/N)?” Niss growls. Your father just stares at you, his eyes empty of all emotion but his shoulders are tensed.

“It means nothing. We work together and. That’s. It.” Everyone in the kitchen is staring at you. Angel is smirking, Molly is biting her lip as she holds in a squeal, Niss looks as though he’s about to punch a wall, and your dad is still staring at you. Their eyes are like deadly sunbeams and your body is a wilting flower. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and transport you to Second Hell, or whatever lies beyond this reality. A part of you finds yourself longing for arms to hold you, to wrap around you and shield you. Longing for grey arms in a red suit to protect you.

Oh jeez, maybe you do love him.

“The sauce is burning,” you break the silence and move towards the stove. “Is the pasta ready?”

“Yeah,” Henroin says and brings a bowl of noodles to the already set table. You turn the stove off and slip on two oven mitts to bring over the pot of sauce.

“Sit down,” you command. Your siblings scurry to their seats as your dad and you arrange everything on the table.

Once you’ve all sat and filled your plates (and taken away Angel’s phone), you turn to your dad.

“So what was the big announcement?” You ask.

Henroin swallows, “Not so much of an announcement, more of a request of you and Anth-- Angel. I know this hotel has been good for you,” he says to your brother. “And it sounds like it’s been... good for you too, (Y/N). But I need you to start pulling your weight around here, especially you, (Y/N).”

“Why me?” (Y/N) you ask, sending your father an incredulous look. “I thought I told you I wanted out of all of that nasty business.”

“Because some of our partners respond better to you. You have a way with people, in the way that is below my stature and beyond anything your brother can do.”

“Dad!” Niss yells, offended.

“Shut up. Now listen, (Y/N), you can still stay at the hotel, do whatever the hell it is you do there,” he gives you a pointed look, hinting that he hasn’t forgotten the Radio Demon business.

“But when I need you to attend a meeting or negotiation,” he continues. “I expect you to be there. You owe your family that.”

You look down at your barely-picked-at-plate, having suddenly lost your appetite.

“I’m guessing you have a meeting soon that you think I’d be well-suited for,” you mumble.

“There’s an Overlord we need to do some business with and I finally convinced her to have an audience. But word on the street is that she responds better to friends or women. And since we’re not friends and I’m definitely not sending Molly--”

“Daddy, you wound me!”

“--That leaves you, kid. We’re counting on you.”

You nod your head. The conversation continues, your siblings argue, Henroin gives you details for the meeting but you let it all wash over you like a wave. You actually thought you could finally start living for yourself for once, that you could stop taking care of others. You were wrong.

---

The city is alive with the sound of laughing and screaming, but all you can think about is the meeting tomorrow with Rosie, an Overlord and the owner of Rosie’s Emporium. Your eyes are heavy from the chaotic dinner, the three times you had to keep Niss from launching himself across the table at Angel, Molly talking your ear off about some cute man who would be perfect for you, and the new weight that has been added to your shoulders. It takes everything in you not to crash the car on your way home.

When you arrive back at the hotel it’s late at night and somehow Angel has boundless energy. He prances to the door, calling out about some party he’s been invited to by Cherri.

“Angel, it’s a Sunday night,” You scold.

“And? My work doesn’t exactly require me to be up and at em at 8, doll.” He bursts through the doors and immediately goes over to Husk and the bar, probably to pregame. You shuffle your way inside after him, rubbing your temples in an effort to tame the ache developing in your head.

“Oh, darling,” Alastor sings. He dances into the lobby from the kitchen, smile as wide as ever, holding two steaming mugs. Except instead of one of his pristine suits, he is dressed in slacks, suspenders, a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a red apron. He looks completely and utterly adorable, and you’re just loving the view of his lithe forearms.

As soon as he heard Angel’s voice bothering Husk, Alastor came running to the lobby with the hot chocolate he had spent hours perfecting. His first batch was too bitter, the second far too sweet for anyone’s liking, and the third was accidentally consumed by Charlie (who is now hiding somewhere in the hotel to avoid his wrath). Plus, he had to endure Charlie’s relentless teasing. But he was certain this would be the perfect cup of liquid goodness to impress his sweetest darling. And judging by your tense shoulders and the stress in the lines of your face, you would definitely be needing something to lift your spirits.

“Goodness, did the dinner not go well?”

You released a deep, exhausted sigh, and lifted your head slowly to meet his eyes. For a moment, Alastor wonders if this might have been the wrong move. You were clearly worn out. You probably just wanted to shut yourself in your room and go to bed and not have anything to do with him and his boyish attempts to woo you. Hot chocolate, really? What was he thinking? Someone like you deserved something lavish, and you would probably scoff at something so simple as a hot drink.

His shoulders deflate at your lack of smile.

“It went about the same as it always did,” you sigh. “Siblings fighting, me saving dinner, my sister trying to set me up with some man.”

Alastor has to restrain the growl bubbling up in his chest.

Your eyes fall to the two mugs in his hands. You sniff the air and smile at the rich scent.

“Is that hot chocolate?”

“Oh... yes, it is.”

“Mm, is there any left?”

“Well of course! I made this cup especially for you, dearest!” He practically shoves the mug into your hands.

You quickly lift the mug to your lips and hope to all that is good and holy that he chalks your blushing cheeks to the heat of the drink.

“Oh, Alastor, this is wonderful. Thank you. I really needed this after the night I had.” You smile up at him, the lines in your face easing immediately. It’s enough to make the Radio Demon’s knees quake.

“You are absolutely welcome...” He pauses. The original plan was to woo you with the drink, whisk you off to a remote corner of the hotel, and attempt to confess his undying love to you. But the yawn you try to stifle almost causes him to deflate. Almost.

“Would like to talk about it, love? I’m all ears! U-Unless you’re too tired. You absolutely do not have to--”

Love. Love. You grip the mug tighter.

“Actually, Alastor, that would be lovely. If you don’t mind.”

Alastor grins.

“Not at all.”

He places a hand on the small of your back and transports you both to the library. He snaps his fingers and a fire lights up the room for you both. You flop onto the couch and Alastor takes a seat beside you, making a point to sidle up to you as you proceed to detail everything about your day.

At first you were rather restrained, convinced that the last thing this important, powerful, strong, kind, considerate, lovely man wanted was to listen to your problems. But as he asked more and more questions, he opened you up like an oyster, waiting patiently for the pearl inside.

“So now I’m meeting with this Rosie tomorrow. Something about transporting her goods across territories.”

“Rosie, you say?”

“Yes. Oh, do you know her?”

“Why yes! She’s an old and dear friend. But, um, quite ruthless towards strangers. You said you’re going alone?”

“Right.”

“Is that... normal? I mean, for you to go alone to meet such dangerous individuals.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been doing so since I was 18 and alive.”

Alastor chokes on his drink.

“That young?”

“I grew up in the mafia, Al.” You send him a coy smile. “I’m not as defenseless as I look.”

“Oh, I never doubted that, dearest, but... to not have anyone there for support...”

“When you grow up the way I did, you learn not to trust anyone. Not fully at least, and definitely not until you know them well enough.”

“Is that right... Do... Do you trust me, then? Or have I not earned that honor?” Alastor smiles at you but within he is a mess. This is it. The moment you tell him that he’s far too dangerous, too vicious, too disgusting for you to ever let into your life in the way he craves.

“You’re on your way.” You smirk at him and the light floods back into his body. That’s a start.

“So, would you allow me to accompany you tomorrow then?”

“Oh, no, Alastor I could never impose on you like that--” He’s just being polite, you tell yourself. He doesn’t actually want to spend time with you outside of the hotel, isn’t actually concerned with whether you die at the hands of this Rosie.

“Nonsense, my darling.” He leans down, smelling the chocolate on your breath. His nose is so close to yours, your lips just as near to his. He could lean forward just a bit, feign a fall, just for one chance to kiss you like he’s dreamed.

“I would love nothing more than to be your knight in shining armor.”

You smile, “Just to be clear, if you are going to escort me, Alastor. I am no damsel in distress.” You boop his nose and giggle at the hot blush on his cheeks.

“But,” you continue, “I would love nothing more than to have your company tomorrow.”

“Well, then have it you shall, love.”

[nyctolovian]

Chapter 17: easy being nice to a bitter boy like him

Summary: Shouto's worries about his relationship with Bakugou reach a boiling point and something tips over.

Shouto took a deep breath as his thumb hovered above the dial button. 

It was difficult to find any time where he could be left alone long enough to make a call. Most of the days were spent at the hero agency as Preeta taught Shouto and Bakugou the ropes. Additionally, Preeta’s agency was collaborating with several other local and overseas hero agencies to deal with some cross-border smuggling. Shouto's skin tingled with adrenaline at the prospect, but that basically meant that sometimes there were even workdays that stretched into the night.

Even if there wasn’t work at night, Preeta occasionally invited the two interns out to eat and chat with their coworkers, who proved to be a fairly rowdy bunch. So far, Bakugou seemed to be having quite a blast trying the different foods in Singapore, especially when chilli seemed to always be readily available anywhere. Not to mention how many types of food were spicy to begin with. But that meant that Shouto’s poor tongue had died several times over the span of the single week they had been here.

Sometimes, Kaiqi would join them. When she did, she would fit right into the crowd of rowdy heroes. She also seemed to have taken a liking to Shouto. (“You can’t give special treatment to specific interns!” “I don’t work here, Preeta. I can do what I want.”) And so they talked often and though it was difficult to keep up in a foreign language, he found himself slowly getting the hang of it. 

Another thing he found was that occasionally, he'd notice Bakugou watching him like a hawk. When he turned around, Bakugou wouldn't be looking anymore, but months of being with him had made him more perceptive of the feeling when he glared at the back of Shouto's head. But he never raised the issue with Bakugou. 

Needless to say, the days, with their bombardment of socialising and adapting to new stuff, were tiring. Most nights, Shouto would fall asleep before his head even hit the pillow and he’d simply open his eyes the next day to Bakugou shoving out of bed from under his arms.

But nightmares were more frequent for them both. Bakugou had one on their second night. But it was the regular case of simply shaking a jerking Bakugou awake before he just took several deep breaths before calming down again.

On their fifth night, it was a hard kick to his shin that jolted Shouto awake. It took a while for his head to clear from his sleepy state and when it did, he looked down to see Bakugou, kicking violently and gripping the fabric of Shouto’s shirt. His breaths came quick and shallow and his eyes were screwed shut while he whimpered in agony. For a moment, Shouto was at a loss. Then, he cooled his hand and pressed it against Bakugou’s shoulder, shocking him just enough to pull him back into reality.

Bakugou looked up with a coat of wetness over his eyes. At the sight of his boyfriend, he let out a shaky sigh before burying his face into Shouto’s chest. “Thank fuck,” he muttered. “Okay. Okay.”

Meanwhile, Shouto used his warm hand to rub circles on Bakugou’s back until they eventually drifted off.

As for Shouto, his nightmare came on the sixth night, the first time in the last two months. And as he opened his eyes to a gruff but concerned Bakugou, he could still feel the echoes of “you were never suited for this” bouncing about the walls of his brain. 

It wasn’t because of those nightmares that Shouto decided to make the call though.

He was getting ready this morning, brushing his teeth drowsily, when Bakugou walked in to spit out his toothpaste and rinse his mouth. In his typical bastard fashion, the way he got Shouto to step aside was by bumping him away with his hip. As Shouto stared at him in annoyance, he let out an impudent open-mouthed chuckle. 

It should have been disgusting with all the toothpaste foam still in his mouth, but Shouto had to bite down on his toothbrush to stop a smile from growing on his own lips. Then, came the sense of guilt that Shouto was planning to stop all of this, and he really didn’t want to, despite how many times he’d told himself it would be the right thing to do. 

That was how Shouto found himself sitting on a bench near the basketball court on a Sunday morning, gathering his courage to call Izuku. Izuku had assured him time and again that he’d be free but Shouto still couldn’t help but feel he was imposing. But clearly, mulling over this on his own wasn't working out well with the stress he'd been having for the past few weeks.

Taking in a deep breath, he clicked the dial button and pressed the phone to his ear as he let it ring.

Izuku, in all his speedy glory, answered the call with a bright “Hello, Shouto!”

Smiling at his best friend’s voice, Shouto greeted him as well. They went through the usual motions of catching up with one another: “How is it there?” “Tiring.” “Mood.” “Huh? What mood?” “I mean, it’s the same for me! But it’s fun, right?” “Yes, a little warm though.” “Not that case for me!”

They continued to talk about their respective internship, Shouto with his more mundane bits, and Izuku with his insane first week battles. Shouto swore his best friend was living the life of an action series protagonist. As Izuku recounted in great detail what happened to him on patrol three days ago, he nodded along, smiling fondly. To be honest, Kaminari had sent the trending Twitter video of his best friend hopping from building to building and into the heat of the battle already, but Shouto took certain delight in hearing it first-hand – terrible sound effects, hero fanboy enthusiasm, and all. 

They continued talking until a lull in their conversation appeared and finally Izuku asked, “So something you need to talk to me about, right?”

Despite knowing full well that Bakugou was resting in their room, Shouto found himself glancing around before admitting, “Mm yeah… I have a problem." Shouto looked at the ground and kicked a pebble beside his foot. He sucked in a deep breath of air. "I… I might be feeling a little homesick,” he lied.

At that, Izuku laughed and began chattering away excitedly about the things he missed about Japan as well.

***

Shouto was deep in thought when his train of thoughts was broken by his transmitter. “Calling for Shouto and DynaMight,” Preeta said, “are you in position?”

“Yes,” Bakugou replied immediately.

“Ah, um, yes,” Shouto stammered back.

Although Bakugou was crouched at the opposite end of the shipping container, Shouto could practically feel the glare on his nape.

According to intel, an illegal trade was due to happen in this port at 4am in the morning. After a general briefing, Bakugou and Shouto were positioned to hide behind a shipping container, a distance away from the predicted location of the trade. Their task was to ensure that the routes of escape were sealed off for the smugglers. Time and again, Preeta had warned them not to let their guards down. They may only be serving as backup, but criminals were unpredictable. They should be paying attention at all times.

Shouto could tell that Bakugou was rather restless at the thought of being distanced from the action, but he had nodded cooperatively when the task was assigned to them. Perhaps Bakugou was now transferring his irritation, which was probably exacerbated by the long day, into the stare he was sending Shouto. Granted, he shouldn’t be allowing his mind to wander like this, but he couldn’t help how he kept going over the way he was going to tell Bakugou the truth about his feelings towards Bakugou, or rather his lack thereof. When something that heavy rested on your mind, it was really rather difficult to forget it.

Shouto sighed at the thought. 

His mind went back to his conversation with Izuku. He was a coward.

How long was Shouto planning to keep mum about the situation? He knew he ought to talk to Bakugou about this. Sort things out properly between themselves.

But what was there to talk about though? The likely scenario was that a look of hurt would wash over his face. After that, ultimately, the best course of action would be to simply break up. There was no point in being such a one-sided relationship, right? He supposed-

“Shouto! Watch it!” Bakugou’s voice shattered his trance.

He looked up.

A man was rushing at him.

“Fucking hell!” the man roared. He aimed his right cannon arm at Shouto and fired.

In a moment of panic, Shouto swiped his hands upwards, sending a Heaven-Piercing Ice Wall towards the man. The man cried out before his voice was abruptly cut off.

“You…!” Bakugou growled, and Shouto turned to face him. “Have you got any idea-”

“What the hell was that?!” Preeta’s voice pierced through the scene. She blasted through the air and landed before the messy ice tower that trapped their perpetrator. Cursing under her breath, she pressed her palms into the ice and it rapidly melted away. “What are you doing, just staring?!” she yelled at the two boys. “Help me with this ice right now! He’s going to die there!”

A shiver ran through Shouto’s spine at the realisation. In his moment of panic, he had completely encased the man in ice. The cannonball the man had fired was merely ten centimeters away from the outer walls of his ice pillar. It fell to the ground with a dull clang as Preeta melted the ice.

Bakugou was the first of the two to react, moving to explode the ice to bits. 

“Be careful,” Preeta told him.

He let out a hum between anger and acknowledgement. 

Meanwhile, Shouto fumbled to his feet and joined the two in releasing the man from the icy death-trap he had created, all while guilt pooled in his gut. He had been incredibly sloppy, something he couldn’t possibly afford to be in this line of work. 

He should know this by now. 

***

By the time Shouto and Bakugou arrived back at the dorms for rest, it was already late morning, even after heading straight back to it without changing out of their hero costumes. The debrief had been short. All the perpetrators had been apprehended and this operation had been a success. For the most part.

Then, came Preeta’s debrief.

“You are a hero!” she chided. “You have a responsibility to control your quirk!”

Shouto had hung his head in remorse. He had no excuse for his behaviour. Thank god the man he had frozen had been largely intact after being suffocated in ice for an entire minute. 

She ended the lecture with a sigh. “I know you’re just a kid, but being a hero means you of all people must remain calm.”

What was also terrifying was how silent Bakugou had been. He had spoken while talking to Preeta and some other heroes when he needed to. But there was a steely coldness in his anger as he refused to exchange any words with Shouto.

It was as he closed the door to their dorm room that he finally said anything to Shouto. “Spit it out. What’s bothering you?” His voice was seething and low.

“I-I don’t–”

“Do you take me for an idiot?” Bakugou’s palms began to smoke. “Something has been on your mind since god-knows-when so quit acting like a pussy and goddamn spit it out.”

Shouto looked at Bakugou with wide pleading eyes. “I… I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t need you to fucking apologise! I’ve seen you bow your head so many times today already. If I weren’t with you 24/7, I’d think you were replaced with some life-size bobblehead. Just tell me what’s going on in that head of yours already!” He groaned. “To think I was gonna let you tell me or solve this at your own time. Clearly you fucking need it forced out of you if you’ve let it bother you this fucking much.” 

“It’s not…”

“I swear to fuck if you don’t tell me right now, I will rip your fucking jaw off and pull it out myself!” Bakugou spat. 

Frustration and exhaustion bubbled beneath Shouto’s skin. “I’m really sorry. I am. But could you calm down?”

“Calm down?” Bakugou yelled. He threw his hands in the air and marched past Shouto. “How do you expect me to? After that stunt you pulled–”

Shouto’s vision was beginning to tunnel as he glared at Bakugou’s back. “I can’t explain with you shouting–”

“–you expect me to be calm?!” he roared as he threw his bag onto the floor in a rage.

“Just let me–”

Bakugou was still back-facing him as he yelled, “Just what the fuck is going through your head?”

“I could ask the same thing!” Shouto retorted. “Your mood has been so awful lately!”

“Yeah? At least I don’t fucking let it distract me! I’m not the one who nearly died!”

With a huff, he mumbled angrily, “Who said I was distracted?”

Bakugou scoffed as he spun around, sharp red eyes finally meeting Shouto’s mismatched ones. “You’re a bloody awful liar, Todoroki Shouto,” he growled out. 

Fury spiked in Shouto’s blood. “I never felt the same way about you,” he stated. “Did you know that?”

[waterrunstogether]

Rites of Passage in the Fifth World

I’ve been thinking lately about the absence of real rites of passage in modern “western culture”. A rite of passage is a sort of ritualized event (that may or may not be endorsed/organized by a community) in which a person is believed to exit from one stage of life and enter the next, usually from childhood to adulthood. Other than the humiliation of high school proms/frat hazing, or getting your driver’s license, or turning 21 and getting shitfaced, my culture in the United States has little to offer in the way of true rites of passage. 

The result is a population of confused, somewhat disillusioned children driving around and going to work or university and pretending to be adults while hopelessly stuck in the liminal space between youth and adulthood.

~ 20 year old me pretending to know what’s going on ~

I have thought about quinceañeras and baptisms, religious rites of passage commonly practiced still, but considering the traumatic experience that my parents’ organized religion was for me, I don’t believe now that my baptism was a helpful event facilitating my transition into maturity. I think it was a blindingly painful event whose toxicity I needed to overcome in what I now believe was the true rite of passage. 

I first dropped acid when I was traveling in Bulgaria. My partner was in her hometown across the country and I was visiting Plovdiv with a friend. We had just finished traveling the world, or at least Eurasia, meeting new faces and trying new things and taking wild risks in Thailand and Turkey and India and Malaysia, to name a few. I had also just escaped the cult I was born and raised in which had hammered into me from birth that my sexual and romantic orientation was an abomination, as a woman I was to obey men, God loved me and wanted me to fear him (that is to say, love = fear), the leaders of the church were to be obeyed and respected all the time (even if they were obviously wrong) and so on and so forth. It was an insane transition between being trapped in these religious handcuffs and learning that I could break free all along. In fact, I carried so much self hatred and internalized homophobia with me into my supposed new life that I didn’t know what to do with myself. Despite being outwardly happier than I had ever been before with a wonderful partner and community who truly loved and supported me for who I was, inwardly I was constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown due to all of the conflicting thoughts and beliefs I was carrying and creating within myself.

The experience of that first trip was an interesting one. Every step of the way my body seemed to pull me towards the letting go of all of the toxicity that was so thick and had built up like plaque in the arteries of my energetic being--yet, I remained me throughout the trip, at the end feeling somewhat empowered but not yet finished with the transformation.

A few months later I took psilocybin, AKA magic mushrooms, with my little brother on a rainy Summer day in D.C. The whole come up of the trip was talking to trees and observing the movements of leaves, running my fingers over the moss growing on the exposed, knotty roots of tree in front of our house. But at the end of the trip, something changed. Once again my body requested, begged me, to let go of the still-prevalent toxicity inside of me. My health was in rough shape, mentally and physically, and my body knew the culprit. But once more I felt I couldn’t let go just yet, it would be too much for me, I wasn’t ready. So I spent the entire come down and then some, maybe four hours, weeping uncontrollably on the basement floor.

The second time I dropped acid was yesterday, with my partner, here in Berlin. It changed everything.

During the come up I was taken aback by how strong the effect it had on me was. My partner, bless her heart, had taken a larger dose than me, yet felt no effect the entire time. Her tolerance has always been naturally higher than mine for every kind of intoxicating substance, and LSD was no exception. 

As time went on I came to realize that her high tolerance was incredibly fortunate for me and my trip. The initial come up was amusing, as flashes of white light began to fill up my eyes, closed and open; but very quickly I began to get paranoid, strange little thoughts about being set up and targeted running through my mind as my sense of self slowly began to dissipate, just nonsense that the ego conjures up to protect itself. But my partner’s calming reassurances that she loved me and that I was safe effectively calmed me down.

Once I began to enjoy the ride up, holding a half of a pomegranate and appreciating its beauty, touching a slice of orange and loving how soft it felt in my hands, admiring the fractals of color creating all kinds of geometric shapes on the walls and snow outside the window, I became comfortable with my loss of identity. At some point I realized that I didn’t even know my name, and I didn’t care, because it was irrelevant. All that was relevant was experience. 

Imagine experiencing and interacting with the world around you without the barrier of the thing that we are so used to that it’s difficult to think of it as a barrier at all: your concept of self. Ideas about names and races and gender and desire and anger and malice and hatred just made absolutely no sense whatsoever. In this state, all that made sense was goodness and beauty and love. All that I understood was harmony and mutually beneficial behavior. My preconceived notions about who I was and what that meant were being shattered and shredded before my very eyes, exposed for what they were: nonsense.

Once I plateaued and began to slowly come down after about four or five hours I was able to contemplate what these things meant, what they would mean for me going forward. I went into the bathroom around hour 7 and decided that it was time to look into the mirror.

Many people will tell you not to look into the mirror during an acid trip, that it’ll give you the dreaded “bad trip” and you’ll have a shit time. I completely disagree. If you are like me and need to come to terms with yourself through the wonderful, horrific, beautiful, terrifying experience that is an “ego death”, I’m afraid that you’ll have no choice but to look into the mirror at some point. 

So, I stared myself down in the mirror and admitted what I couldn’t admit for so long, due to being taught that I was essentially evil since the day I was born. I’d called myself a sinner, wicked, worthless, ugly, an abomination and just about every other mean word in the evangelical dictionary. But as I stood there looking at my body in the mirror, egoless and impartial, I said, “You have done and thought some cruel things to yourself for some time now. But you know what? You are a kind person. You are a wonderful person. You treat people with respect and love, you treat everyone you’ve ever met with so much empathy, so much caring. You love the truth, you love to be generous, you love to be a good friend. You must begin to treat yourself the same way. I know you’ve had so much hatred in your heart contaminating your energy for so long, but that is enough. That is enough. No more. I am a kind person. I am a kind person. I love you. Remember that night so long ago? Beneath the stars, where they submerged you in the baptismal water and tried to destroy you, saying these sacred waters would wash all your sins away, along with your fragile, meaningless identity? Well, they simply added more to your ego, a darker side. You built up so much negativity for so long. Well, look at you now. Your identity, all of the ideas and concepts that you’ve built up around who you really are to protect you from the hurt of Life, it’s all gone. Now you’re going to baptize yourself again. You’ll be truly reborn, this time dedicated not to destroying yourself for the sake of a religion, but dedicated to renewing and becoming and becoming and becoming.” As I looking into the mirror my silhouette became filled in with the velvet black of the night sky, full of bright stars.

I turned on the water and was baptized once again, by my own hands.

When I returned to the room I felt happier than I had ever felt in my life, light as air, free. I told several people about how much I love them and described my love for them in detail, not as this thing that’s an extension of my own ego, but my love for them was a little bit of energy that I had the honor of holding in me, in this body, and sharing between us for a time, for the wonderful events that we call our lives. I could actually see love. I understood that I was not all of the concepts I’ve built around myself, but an expression of energy in this space and time, connected to every other expression of energy in all of history, from the beginning and until the end. My matter, my body, was simply a vehicle for the energy, and would be recycled into new vehicles after I die. My energy would be transferred into new vehicles as well. That’s what we perceive as death: just a simple transfer of energy and recycling of matter. My ego would not live on, thankfully. My consciousness as conflated with ego would cease to exist with me. But the underlying animating force behind all things in the universe, the true source of consciousness, would never be destroyed or created, simply recycled again and again and again and again. Becoming and becoming and becoming and becoming.

The hilarious and bizarre world of reality is hilarious and bizarre. It’s so beautiful and mystical and wonderful and honestly, nothing I write here could ever explain how I experienced being alive in that sixteen hour trip. Words don’t convey it, words can’t convey it. Reality is visceral, experiential, impartial and impossible to quantify in something as crude as human language. 

All I know is that, today, I am a fundamentally changed person. I’d feared ego death for so long, feared that it would be too much, too painful. And it was so, so painful--but it was so worth it. I am happy and proud to exist, grateful for everything I have accomplished and can accomplish in this miraculous, tiny little vessel during this ephemeral event that is my life. I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow if tomorrow exists, and unleash all of my love on everyone who’ll have it. Love is the energy that unites us with our own bodies and the entire world around us. How lucky and strange it is to be anything at all.

May you have a peaceful day. The universe smiles upon you.

[daddystevee]

The Only Exception

(Steve Harrington x reader)

Bleh i feel like this has potential but like i feel like i absolutely butchered it.. :( but i redeemed myself in the end i think. Heh were gonna pretend that Paramore was a thing in the 80s because why the fuck not. This fic was written with the help of tiktok aus and The Only Exception by paramore heh.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: a few curse words, a small panic attack situation, mention of a gun, and lots of angst spelling and bad grammar??

Summary: an AU in which everyone has a soulmate, on your 20th birthday a number pops up on your wrist telling you how far away you are from them. Reader has a hard time with love and believing in good things associated with love.

><

Soulmates are a tricky thing. Growing up you were told that soulmates are supposed to be someone that just gets you. A connection of minds, a mutual respect, an unconditional love and a total understanding. It was about being yourself and knowing, not only that person is following and understanding your thoughts, but is right there with you, side by side. 

But in reality, soulmates were determined by a couple of numbers that would pop on your wrists, telling you how far apart the two of you were on your 20th birthday. You weren’t sure who came up with the idea, but you hoped they realized how dumb it was. Sometimes there were people who really wouldn’t ever find their other half.

When you were younger, you never really realized how much your parents would argue. But what you did notice was that your mom and dad’s numbers on their wrists weren’t at 0 or at least in the lower single digits, your moms was 358 and your dads was 690. Meaning that they weren’t really soulmates, just two people who put up with each other's bullshit for no reason. Making you believe that you didn’t necessarily need your soulmate to be “happy”.

As you got older, you started to see the major flaws in your parents relationship. Your parents were constantly yelling at each other for no reason. Everything changed the day your father pulled a gun on both you and your mother. After that, your mother packed up everything the two of you had and ran, as far away as she could with your father constantly knowing how far away you were. 

From that day forward, you vowed to never let your guard down. Never letting yourself fall in love and to forever believe that no matter what number popped up on your wrist, soulmates didn’t exist.

><

After running from your biological father for what seemed like years, the two of you ended up in a boring little town called Hawkins, Indiana. Where you would start your life over for the first time at the age of 12. Over the next 5 years you would learn that Hawkins was not a boring town because at the beginning of your junior year of high school, at 17 years old you would get sucked into this dark place that looked just like home, but it wasn’t.

You somehow survive, running from a scary creature that would open its face and eat anything in its path. No matter what you did, it seemed like you could never run away from this thing. You would experience this insane encounter alongside a 12 year old, who you would learn is named Will Byers. After what felt like months you would finally be rescued. 

You would eventually go back to school to finish out your junior year of high school, but not without making friends with Will and a bunch of other 12 year olds. Along with the kids came automatic friendships with the older siblings as well, including Steve.

A year after your first experience with the Upside Down everything was fine and normal, you thought that it was all over. Boy were you wrong, Will started to have these visions of the alternate universe the two of you had been trapped in.

You were fine but knew this creature and that world better than anyone else, so as much as you really didn’t want to, you opted to help out as much as you could staying close to the other kids and really just making sure that they were safe. They were your family after all. 

As the battle went on you grew closer to Steve Harrington, learning to call him your best friend. He was the only one who you knew well enough and could get you to open up and let your guard down a little bit, but you had to tough it out because you made a promise to yourself and you had to keep it. You couldn’t take that risk. The boy had some sort of soft spot in your heart and you refused to believe it and would never let anyone know about it.

><

May 29th, 1985 was a sad day for everyone, it was the day you would be moving away from everything you had. All of the kids, Nancy, Jonathan, and your best friend Steve. Steve, the boy who you had grown up beside, the boy you fought inter-dimensional monsters with.

You were driving across the country to go to the University of Southern California. Saying that this wasn’t an easy choice would be a lie. You knew exactly what you were doing, running away from your fears, that was all you knew how to do but you knew that if you didn’t leave now you would never get out of there. You always have to put your safety and mental health first, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

“Promise you’ll call every day?” Steve asks you, pulling you into a hug. 

“Only if you promise to answer.” you say with a sad laugh, you never planned on ever calling home.

>< 

Here you were, in Los Angeles, California. 2,105 miles away from home. An entire year later and you still hadn’t called home, if that's what you would even call it. You refused to associate yourself with that place ever again and had completely wiped that section of your life from your memories. A voice in the back of your mind was constantly calling you back, but you always ignored it.You were starting your life completely over for the second time, at 19 years old, in California. You lived in a two bedroom apartment with your new best friend and her ‘soulmate’. While you were happy for them, you couldn’t help but be jealous of their happiness.

><

It was your 20th birthday, and you had no plan on looking to see how far your soulmate was from you. You didn’t care, all soulmate’s were shit and ‘happily ever after’s’ didn’t actually exist. You planned on just getting drunk with your friend and forgetting about life for a night.

“So I was thinking we could go to a karaoke bar tonight? How does that sound?” your best friend Logan asked you walking out of her and her boyfriend’s shared room

“I mean I suck at singing but-”

“Yeah, but being drunk makes everyone a great singer” 

“I guess so. Just us right?” you asked, while Logan and her boyfriend were cute you honestly hated third wheeling it always made you feel some sort of way. Jealous maybe?

“Of course! Now let's get you ready! You never know you might just bump into someone special” she says wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yeah, not gonna happen” you say unamused, rolling your eyes while walking off to your room to get ready.

><

“Come on Y/N, you’ve gotta sing at least one song while we're here.” your best friend slurred while pulling you along behind her, obviously too drunk for her own good. You ended up not drinking as much as you had planned, but the two of you had to get home somehow.

“I’m not drunk enough, you might be but I am most certainly...” but before you could object anymore she had already chosen a song and shoved a microphone in your hand pushing you onto the stage. “.. what the fuck? I don’t even know what song this is?”

“Yes you do! I hear you singing it in your room all hours of the night..” she says stumbling off into the crowd. 

The beginning chords to the song start to play over the speakers and you know exactly what song it is. You looked down at the microphone in your hand and refused to look up at the audience, yet the words came out of your mouth naturally, as easy as breathing. No one truly knew your story, except one person. That person was Steve Harrington. The one who always brought butterflies to your stomach even though you told yourself that this was wrong. 

“Maybe I know, somewhere deep in my soul, that love never lasts.”

You had beat yourself up over it for months, you refused to let him get in the way. You were never going to be happy, that was just how this worked. 

“But you are, the only exception”

Maybe there were exceptions in the world and you just weren’t lucky enough to believe in that shit. 

“You are, the only exception”

Something in your gut told you to look up at the crowd and expected to look for Logan among all of the people. 

“You are, the only exception”

What you didn’t expect to see was a familiar set of brown eyes looking at you from the back of the room.

“You are, the only exception”

You suddenly felt like it was impossible to breathe but you were still singing out the words from your heart. 

“Oh, and I'm on my way to believing.”

As you sang the last words of the song you dropped the mic, making a break for the side exit door, not thinking about your drunk friend at this moment. You just had to get out of there without having to talk to him. You didn’t get very far before you felt a hand grab onto your wrist,

“Let go of me!” you tried to jerk away from him but his grip was strong. You turned to him and attempted to pull his hand off of your wrist all while avoiding his eyes. “What’s your problem?” you ask frustrated.

“What’s my problem? What’s your problem?” he says, you stop trying to pull away and he lets go of your arm you could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your face. “You left, and none of us heard from you for a year. The kids literally thought you were dead.”

“Yeah well-” you say with a shrug but are suddenly at a loss for words.

“Yeah well what? You promised you’d call. I waited and waited and waited for months and got nothing.” he says, and without looking at him you could tell that he was really upset about it.

“Well…” you say while thinking of a bullshit excuse, “I suck at keeping promises, so I don’t know why you’d hold me to it.”

“Promises?” he scoffs, “You suck at keeping promises? Yet keep an eight year promise to yourself?”

“That’s different.”

“Y/N, you've made plenty of promises to me in the past and always kept them. I don’t know what was so different about this one. All you had to do was make one simple phone call.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to call you. Did you think about that? Maybe I wanted nothing to do with you guys again!” you yell at him, “How the hell did you find me anyways?”

It went completely silent. You could hear a pen drop in the parking lot.

“I- I don’t really think that, that's important..”

“Steve, how the hell did you find me?” you ask finally looking up at him for the first time in a year.

“Well, I know where you moved to.. Because you know you told me what college you were going to before you left.” 

“Yes, but how did you know exactly where to find me?”

Steve reaches down to pull up his sleeves of his jean jacket to show you the numbers on his wrist. You refuse to look at it, continuing to look up at his face shaking your head in denial.

“No, there’s no way. It’s not possible.” 

“Have you looked at your wrist yet today?”

“No, I told myself that it wasn’t important and that it didn’t matter.”

“Look at it then.” he says grabbing your hand. But as he does this you quickly pull your hand away from him. grabbing onto your wrist.

The voice in the back of your head tells you not to do it, but your heart says otherwise. For whatever reason you listen to your heart for the first time in a while and slowly pull up the mesh material that was covering your arms. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but when you know you’ve got your wrist uncovered you open your eyes and look down. Tears are suddenly streaming down your face, sure enough there was a perfectly placed ‘0’ on both of your wrists. 

“No- soulmates they- they aren’t real.” you start to stutter over your words “This isn’t going to work. I know how this ends, and it’s not good.” you start to hyperventilate thinking about your parents. Knowing that everything went wrong and there was no good to this. 

Steve places his hands on your shoulders to calm you down, “Hey, relax. It's okay, you're going to be okay.” He slowly pulled you into a hug.

“Is this- a dream?” you ask in between short breaths pulling him closer to you.

“It kinda feels like it but no, it's not.” he says resting his chin on top of your head.

The two of you stood there for a few moments taking in this new feeling. 

“I’m tired of running.”

“Then stop running, and walk.”

“But what if I stumble and fall?”

“Then, I’‘ll be there to catch you.”

After that night you ended up leaving USC and transferring to a local college near right outside of Hawkins. The kids were ecstatic to see you when you got home, pulling you in for a giant group hug.

“Don’t you ever leave us like that again.” Mike says to you  

“Yeah, we thought you died!” Dustin says dramatically squeezing you tighter.

“Well, I can promise you one thing right now.” you say looking to Steve, letting a small smile fall onto your lips, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” 

“Steve, how did you find her?” Lucas asks as he pulls away. Steve looks at you and you both bull up your sleeves showing them your numbers being at ‘0’ and they all look between the two of you.

“Ewwww, they’re sOuLmAtEs” Dustin yells out, a taller dirty blond walks over and smacks him on the back of the head. 

“Shut up Dufus, let Dingus have his moment.” the girl says already knowing the story

“I don’t know who you are, but I love you already.”

“I’m Robin” she says sticking out her hand, but you were the happiest you had been in a long time so you just reached out and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m Y/N.” everyone stood there looking at the two of you before bursting into a fit of giggles, which turned into pointless laughter, making everyone double over.

Everyone’s story was different, and there was a lot of work to be done on yours but Steve was going to be there every step of the way. To show you that not everything was perfect, but everyone had their chance at a ‘happily ever after’.

[anxiouslymalicious]

Losers Club Plus One Part 8

 A Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series

Read the previous part here or go here for the complete Masterlist!

A/N; Hello everyone, I’m sorry for the long wait, but I have been struggling with this one a lot and still don’t feel like it’s as good as it could be, but this is the happiest I have felt about any of the versions I have written for this chapter.  Anyway, this is about 3.8k words. I hope you enjoy!

“What do you mean you don’t know? Weren’t you there when she was born?!” asked Ben, stressed out beyond belief over the whole situation. He, Bev And Richie had settled in his room while Eddie got cleaned up and Bill sat in front of Y/N’s and Richie’s room, trying to get her to open up to him. He had arrived not long after the situation escalated and had been sat before the room ever since he heard what happened. Well, after giving Richie shit for never bothering to find out. Richie wasn’t mad at Bill though. He was giving himself shit for never bothering to find out, for taking her with him, for being so careless.

“I mean that I never made a test. There was a birth certificate with her, the mother’s name wasn’t readable anymore, but it had my name on it. So, I assumed…” Richie drifted off, another painful sob racking through his body. His chest was aching more and more with every sob. He hid his face in his hands again, like he had countless times in the past half an hour. The shame was too much for him. 

Richie felt the bed dip beside him as Bev sat down on his right, laying a hand on his back, her head resting against his shoulder. She was shaken up to say the least, not expecting anything like that. When she first encountered Y/N, she had thought about how little physical similarities there were between the girl and her father, but she never would have thought that there might be a bigger reason to that than genetic randomness.

Ben, meanwhile, was still pacing the room, not sure what to think of the whole situation.

“Do you want to get tested?” Beverly asked carefully. Her voice was soft and hesitant, eyes travelling from Richie to Ben and back to Richie as helplessness took over her. And not only her. None of the Losers knew what to think of anything that was going on.

Richie looked up a little, chin and mouth still covered by his hand that he never fully lifted from his face. Then, he shook his head vigorously.

“I’m scared.” He finally uttered, voice cracking and barely more than a whisper. The two Losers easily heard how rough his voice sounded, like his vocal cords had turned to sandpaper. Beverly sighed, along with Ben who ran his hand through his hair before settling his hands on his hips. He had stopped his nervous pacing and instead stepped closer to the two Losers on his bed.

“Listen, Trashmouth. You really fucked up. We all know that. But sitting here and wallowing in self-pity won’t make anything right again. You need to do something.” Ben said, kneeling down before his friend. Richie nodded as yet another sob escaped his lips.

“I’m just so scared. Did I just lose my little girl?” Richie asked, teary gaze moving from Bev to Ben. Both of them felt tears of their own stinging in their eyes. Beverly shook her head.

“I don’t think so.” She replied, trying to put as much confidence into her words as possible although she really wasn’t sure if she believed herself. Ben nodded a little, agreeing with her.

“You’re shit, Y/N knows that too. She’s hurt but I don’t think she hates you.” Ben rested one of his hands on Richie’s knee, hoping to provide some form of comfort as he looked up at the broken man. Each of the Losers had witnessed the others breaking down before. It was completely out of character for most of them, almost like an out-of-body-experience, but Ben and Beverly silently agreed that they had never before seen Richie that low.

It was hard on the other Losers too, though. It wasn’t only Richie whose heart was breaking.

Beverly was actually deeply worried for the girl. After all, Bev had never had a good relationship with her father. He had been abusive, good for nothing, but she still loved him. She still came back time and time again. And she saw herself in Y/N. She knew that Richie never meant to hurt her and wouldn’t ever dare to lay a finger on her, but if Y/N felt that being hurt by her loved ones was alright, would she find herself in a relationship like Beverly’s in the future?

Ben’s heart was aching for her. He knew what it was like to be the outcast. He knew what it was like to find people you adored dearly only to be ripped away from them again. He was sure Y/N felt that way now. Like her safe place, for both alike, the Losers Club, would be taken from her, but most importantly, the man she thought was her father, her only family, was in some ways taken away from her. It was cruel and Ben was scared that she would feel equally lost as he did when he had to move away as a kid. He never really recovered from the hurt his mother caused him back then.

Eddie was silently breaking down in his bathroom. To him, Y/N was such a little sunshine and she didn’t deserve any of this. She didn’t deserve a hurt relationship with her father like he had with his own mother growing up. Richie didn’t deserve that either, but Eddie knew just how much this loss of reality can affect someone. He himself had felt as though he had lost his grip on reality when he spent time in the hospital after breaking his arm. When he pushed his mother to her limits. When he too felt as though he was about to lose the only biological family he had left.

Lastly, Bill was desperate. He had pushed Georgie away and never got the chance to apologise. Time was ticking. What if she or Richie wouldn’t find back together? Bill couldn’t let that happen. His mind was set on saving them the eternal heartache of knowing that it was your fault that a loved one died, the heartache of knowing that the other died feeling unloved. He felt that this was his opportunity to make things right. To not give IT the satisfaction of tearing another family apart.

Which was why he was still, after half an hour, hammering against Y/N’s room door, trying to argue with the girl who mostly replied with hums and groans.

“Y/N p-p-please… This is n-not real. I p-p-promise you.” Bill tried, now growing desperate. Impatient. He felt like he was running out of time. His back was leaned against the door, teeth gnawing at his lips.

“How can you promise that?” Y/N sobbed. The hurt she felt was inexplicable. It was just too much. Her world had been torn apart, nothing made sense anymore and she felt like she just couldn’t go on.

“B-because I c-can.” Bill said, then sighed, knowing just how stupid he sounded. “W-what are we t-to you? W-w-what does the L-Losers Club mean to you?” That sounded better in his ears.

Silence. Then, “I appreciate you.”

“W-we do too. And t-the second R-R-Richie introduced you as h-his d-daughter, I d-d-decided that, to m-me, y-you are a part of this f-f-family.” Bill replied.

“I’m not Richie’s daughter though.” She said, followed by another heart-wrenching sob echoing through the door. Bill winced.

“W-What is a f-father to you?” Bill missed Stan terribly in this situation. He would have done a much better job. He had usually been able to clear everyone’s head out, bringing people closer together again, or at least he was able to talk some sense into them. A single tear managed to escape Bill’s eye, rolling down his cheek until he caught it, wiping it away with the back of his hand. He was mourning for his friend.

“I-I’m sorry, k-kiddo. Stan w-would have been much b-better at this. Sorry. I’m t-trying here, please b-bear with me.” A dry chuckle escaped Bill’s lips. “J-just… what does a p-p-person have to do t-to be a father?”

“I don’t know.” She replied. “I really don’t know. Be there for their kid, I guess. Be honest. Take good care of them. Love them and show them that they’re loved every day. Spend time with them… That stuff.”

Bill smiled a little. “D-Didn’t Richie do m-m-most of that? I mean b-besides the honesty-part.”

She sighed. “But it’ll change so much…”

“W-what exactly would it c-change?” Bill knew that he had finally cornered her. He knew that he had Y/N exactly where he wanted. Suddenly, he felt the door move, but he wasn’t quick enough to adjust his balance and fell flat on his back, met with Y/N’s tear-stained face peeking at him shyly from behind the door. Hastily, he got up as Y/N pulled the door a little further open to grant Big-Bill access to the room. He didn’t waste a second and embraced Y/N tightly, closing the door behind them.

It felt good to be held. Y/N whimpered and winced, broken sobs and shallow gasps racked pained her airways and throat, but she felt. And that was nice.

“Shhh… Y-you’re safe. E-everything will b-be alright.” Bill mumbled, hoping to calm her, but not only her. He, too, needed some support, he needed to hear those words, even if they were his own. Otherwise he knew he would go insane.

“Promise?” Y/N mumbled. She knew it would be a lie, but just for a moment, she wanted to embrace the naïve trust of the child in her. She wanted to blindly follow what the adults told her to do and what they told her would be the truth. She didn’t want to think and decide for herself, but rather go back home, to the safe distance that separated Derry from LA, that separated Derry from the rest of the world, really.

 “I p-p-promise.” Bill replied. He looked at his best friend’s presumed daughter and felt utterly helpless. Could he really promise that? He wanted her to be alright, yes, but were lies the right way?

“Can you… uh…”

“Want m-me to call R-R-Richie over?”

Y/N nodded. Bill, feeling a little at ease, grinned and left the room only to reappear a few minutes later, a shaking Richie under his arm. Dried tear streaks besmirched his paler-than-usual cheeks. Richie looked tired. Mentally exhausted, yes, but it seemed almost as though he has aged about two decades in the past hour.

“I’m r-r-right outside if y-you n-need me.” Bill told the two before stepping out, closing the door behind him. Y/N remained quiet, just like Richie. He was slumped over, hands balled in the pockets of his jacket. Y/N could see how hard he was gritting his teeth, trying not to let more tears fall. Richie looked defeated.

Y/N, however, was ready to fight. Her body was rigid, tense, and Richie thought that not even that stupid bitch of a clown would survive a fight with his little girl. Not in that very moment. There was blood on her thumb, Richie assumed she had excessively bit down on it, accidentally tearing it. Richie saw the unshed tears in her eyes and dried tear streaks stained her angrily blushing cheeks.

“Y/N, I,” Richie started, but the words caught in his throat, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She remained quiet.

“I just… Someone left you on my doorstep. They rang the bell and just took off. I had no chance of finding out who it was. But there was a letter. I still have it at home. Couldn’t throw that stupid piece of shit paper away.” A dry chuckle escaped Richie’s lips as he stepped closer to the bed, where Y/N was standing.

“It was from your mother. I can tell you what it said, or I can give you the letter once we get home. But something about it made me want to trust that unnamed person. And you were crying. So loudly and desperately, it made me cry too. I was so fucking scared. I mean, I still am, but back in the day, everything happened so suddenly and I was still living in my fucked up one-room apartment. Fuck, I still wrote my own shit.” Richie ran a hand over his face, up to his hair, then looked at Y/N. Her arms were crossed in a defensive manner in front of her chest.

“But you looked at me with those fucking huge eyes and it was like you told me that we could do this. And I trusted you. And when you grew older, you were so much like me. I never felt the need to do a paternity test. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.” Richie couldn’t hold his tears back any longer. His voice sounded shallow, pained, even. Y/N just sighed, but she could feel her own tears fall, shoulders relaxing in the slightest.

“If you want me to, I’ll take the test the second we get back home. But to me you are and will always be my daughter. Fucking biology can’t change that. Please, please forgive me, little one. Please. I’m so fucking sorry.” Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was full-on pleading now. Pure fear had taken over his body, fear of losing the most important person in his life. The little girl he had taken care of, taken in, cared for and given all his love for the longest time of his life. He couldn’t lose her.

“It’s okay, Richie. I’d just like to know if you’re my biological father too on top of being my psychological dad.” Y/N muttered before finally letting loose, allowing her body to break down again. She knew that it wasn’t just okay. She, as much as Richie knew that it would take time to rebuild their trust, to get back to where they were. She knew that she couldn’t just forgive him for basically lying to her all her life, but he couldn’t help it. He had been blind with trust and now he would have to pay the price. 

Richie hesitated for a moment, not knowing if she wanted distance between them to sort out her feelings or if she was craving the comfort from the man she considered her father throughout her whole life. Ultimately, he decided against his gut-feeling and shot up from the bed, wrapping his arms around her crumbling frame.

They cried. It was raw and real and painful, but it was just as relieving. Wet, desperate sounds of hurt and heartache crawled up their throats, echoing in the room. Struggling breaths and hurried gasps. Cries for help from above. Cries for the past.

Eddie, in his room, could hear the wailing sounds. They pained him. They made him want to cry as he cleaned himself up. Eddie didn’t want anything more than for the two to be alright. He wanted the man he loved to be alright and he wanted for that man’s daughter to be alright. Eddie’s creeping hopes of going home with them rather than going back to Myra felt as though they had been shattered. He felt guilty for not wanting to go back to her, but Eddie wanted to be happy. And he felt more than just happy when he was with the Tozier-Trashmouth-duo. He felt free and accepted and loved whereas with Myra, he felt oppressed and stuck in the same vicious circle every day of his life.

He appreciated her, he appreciated how she cared for him, how she reminded him of all the meds he had to take and how he could unwind a little with her after a long day at work. Eddie did have actual romantic feelings for that woman years and years ago, but now, he felt that all those feelings had faded and since arriving in Derry, the thought of going back to Myra made him feel uneasy more than anything.

He would much rather go home with the chaotic Toziers. Get to know how they live. He could help Richie manage his life. He could help Y/N whenever she was struggling in school. Maybe, just maybe, Eddie could stay at home, make sure that everything was cleaned and cared for, cook and plan out little weekend trips. Maybe he could pick up a small job to support the duo, or he could keep working at his job, it wasn’t something he couldn’t do elsewhere, and save whatever was left of his income for Y/N’s later education.

Eddie smiled, a blush on his cheeks, as he wet the cloth, trying to get the dirt off himself. Only seconds later, his happy daydreams were rudely interrupted by the most terrifying nightmare.

Ben had checked in with the Toziers as the cleansing cries ebbed off and were replaced with soft, uneven whimpers and whispers.

“We need you two right here with us.” He had told them, eyes moving from one tear-stained face to the other. Ben looked closely, examined their faces in the most detailed way, searching for similarities between the two and ending up a little satisfied as he found a few. Like the way their noses were curved. The fine lips, the gentle eyes. Ben found that they had more in common than they might have seen. He hoped that it wasn’t just mother nature and his own mind playing tricks on him.

“We’ll stay, don’t worry.” Richie replied as he watched Ben. Little did Ben know that neither Richie nor Y/N planned on staying in Derry. Ben had closed the door behind him, his steps outside growing quieter as he was on his way downstairs, unintentionally interrupting the kiss between Bev and Bill before proudly explaining to them how he managed to get Richie and Y/N to stay.

“Let’s leave.” Richie said hurriedly, back in the room. His heart was clenching in his chest at the thought of leaving his friends, most importantly Eddie, behind to fend for themselves, but fixing his family was more important to him. The blankness of Y/N face, the emptiness of her eyes, the lack of emotion in her facial features scared Richie more than IT ever could.

Y/N nodded. She was too exhausted to interact with Richie any longer. She felt empty, almost as though with all the tears she cried, she had cried out her heart and soul and every last emotion in her brain. She felt like something had been ripped away from her. Like she was incomplete. Although she knew that Richie wasn’t really gone. He was still there, still her father, but she still felt… Strange. Because everything she had believed as she grew up might have been a huge misunderstanding. And that was a lot to take in.

 Richie smiled a little. Then, he gave her a gentle clap on the shoulder, the last non-frantic movement he would make for the next few minutes. What ensued was Richie, a constant stream of swear words leaving his lips, hastily searching the room for any items that might belong to them, carelessly throwing what was left in the room into the bags. He then grabbed both bags, gently pushing his daughter to the window where a fire escape led them outside, to the comfort of the expensive car.

Y/N climbed into the back, stretching her legs across the seats while Richie threw the bags in the trunk, slamming it close, then struggled to get in and start the car. The second the motor started, Richie seemed to be a little at ease, his shoulders relaxing further the more distance he put between his little family and the hotel of horror.

Richie had turned on the radio, a random rock song was playing, and he anxiously bopped his head along to the beat. The song sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t be bothered to strain his brain for the name.

Y/N had curled up against the backseats, legs spread out over the seats. She wasn’t comfortable, but it felt better than facing the world and sitting up. She felt too tired to do that. Instead, she looked out the window, simply watching as the world passed by.

The car came to an abrupt halt, shaking the girl halfway out of her trance. She sat up a little, confused as to where the pair might be. She spotted a synagogue and let her eyes travel to Richie who now seemed to be in a little trance himself. His vision blurred with tears and he suddenly looked back at his little girl.

“Uhm… Would you- do you mind if we-“ Richie sniffled a little, pointing at the synagogue just outside. Carefully, Y/N shook her head, silently telling the man that it would be alright. And so, Richie parked the car and climbed out, leading his daughter inside. He hadn’t been there in years. Not since the bar mitzvah. Not since Stanley’s speech.

His nose filled with the typical, slightly musty smell of the place. He knew that warm but kind of old smell from the time he supported Stan when no one else would.

Richie and Y/N sat down on one of the benches and Richie’s gaze wandered through the room. In his mind, he tried to think of how it had looked back in the day. He tried to remember the decorations, how he and his mother were dressed, what Stanley wore.

How he acted. Richie’s mother had felt embarrassed that Richie couldn’t keep his Trashmouth in check for once. But not only how Richie himself acted, admittedly quite tame compared to what his teachers usually heard from him. This was about Stanley.

How he acted up against what was expected from him. How we said that he was and would always be a Loser.

How Stanley reminded Richie of who he was and would always be. That he was alright just the way he was. That he didn’t need to be afraid of who he was.

How Stanley reminded Richie that his friends needed him.

And how much he needed his friends. ‘Because Losers stick together’.

“Thank you for showing up, Stanley.” Richie sniffled in the quietest voice he could muster

And with that, Richie grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her outside again, ready to go meet Mike at the library. Ready to stand by his friends. Ready to fuck the bitch up who dared to lay a finger on his little girl and tried to tear them apart. And, lastly, ready to face Eddie. Because Richie really needed Eddie to know how he felt about him.  

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[gra-sonas]

In-depth interview with L’Odet

Michael is an actor based in Los Angeles. He's known for his work on The CW's "Roswell, New Mexico." The second season of Roswell dropped on Netflix this week. Photos by Davy Kesey for his Reflections series, a photographic pursuit of vulnerable, multifaceted, and deeply personal portraits.

CARIANN BRADLEY: What did your day to day look like filming the second season of "Roswell, New Mexico?" I know in our first chat together several months ago, you told me you tapped into your friend passing away this time last year. Can you explain to me your process?

MICHAEL VLAMIS: Season two of "Roswell" — it was crazy because so many things happened to me personally going into the season. A buddy of mine passed away; I recovered his body in the middle of an ocean after a freak boating accident . Friends and I were out in Panama, Central America, for a bachelor party and it went from the greatest time ever to one of the most wild experiences of my life. The kid that we lost was one of my childhood best friends.

That happened in May. Shortly after that, I tore my meniscus in my right knee, which is the third time I’ve done that, so I underwent surgery at the end of July. Once that surgery happened, I had to report to the set of "Roswell" about three days later. I couldn’t drive, so one of my roommates actually drove me out to Santa Fe — my roommate Roarke Anderson who I have lived with since college, we played baseball together at Chapman. And then I get out to the shoot and everybody is so worried about me because of my knee surgery. I’m limping and it’s hard for me to be standing on set or doing any physical contact and everybody is babying me so hard! I’m really bad at taking help. The "Roswell" cast and crew were so supportive, so helpful — they got me my own custom chair that I could sit in so my knee would heal quicker.

They were doing all of these things, going out of their way, and I don’t know if it’s a thing that I have — pride or ego or my stubbornness — but taking help from people, even when I need it, is tough for me. I was taking all of this help and then three weeks into shooting, the doctor said, “You can drive, but you don’t want to be hitting the break too hard; take care of your knee.” And on my way to set one morning, a priest turned right in front of me at a green light and I smoked this guy in my car; I totaled my car. He got knocked unconscious, but luckily he was okay, everything worked out — he was healthy, he got taken away from the scene but was able to walk away from the hospital and was doing fine. Right at that time, I was really just feeling the death of my friend, the knee surgery, the car accident — meanwhile, Max, my brother in the show, played by Nathan Parsons of course, is dead in the series.

So, while all of this is going on, I keep channeling my buddy and that horrific incident because it felt like if anything was gonna come out of that — he was a big supporter of my career, always telling people I was acting — I felt like I could do justice to my friend’s death, I could make a positive out of such a negative, and that’s what I did. I really tried to channel him and look to him between scenes and bring that for the loss of my brother in the show.

And, to be honest, I felt like I went too deep into that and it really caught up to me. A month and a half into shooting I just snapped one day. I remember the hair stylist on set all of the sudden told me that The CW thought the right side of my hair wasn’t as curly as it normally is, so they started curling my curls on set and, it’s so funny that that ended up being the last straw. Curling my curls made me feel like a helpless individual who just needed to be so pampered and taken care of and watched after and looked upon — and I didn’t feel like my own person. I ended up saying a dick comment to our hair stylist, who I love and really respect and appreciate, but in that moment I snapped and I got all teary-eyed and she was like, “Dude, what’s going on?” And I gave her a big hug and I’m like, “I’m sorry, this isn’t about you at all,” and I went to my trailer and I wrote a poem and I kind of got out everything I was feeling. From that moment on, which was about six weeks into shooting, I felt better. I had a little bit of a relief. And then, luckily, Max comes back to life halfway through season two and my big episode, episode five, when I channeled my buddy the most was a very tough experience. But once that was over I was able to let the passing of my friend go for a while and everything normalized, but that was everything just on set! You just get so focused on doing your best work that you kind of drive yourself insane.

C: Even just from talking to you the first time we chatted for l’Odet, you just seem like the most productive person ever. How do you take care of yourself? Especially when you’re exerting that much of yourself creatively. Do you do therapy or do you just depend on your support system?

M: I think that changes. At one point in my life it was meditation. I actually meditated for the first time this morning since February because I’ve been feeling so strange lately in the pandemic, right? It’s been ups and downs and I was feeling like I needed a little bit more calmness in my life. I know that I’m a person that really likes control and I like things the way they are and me having a grasp on things — it’s little things. I have a driveway that we park all five of the cars of the house and the cars are parked just back to back to back, so if you’re the first one in, you have to go to your roommates and say, “Hey guys, I have to do a car shuffle, I have to leave,” and it can be an inconvenience for people to go move their cars for you to get out. When I’m meditating and my mind is very relaxed, that doesn't bother me, but I’ve been noticing lately that I don’t want to park in the driveway because I’m gonna get stuck, but at a time like this? When I don’t have to go anywhere, I don’t have to be anywhere, why am I thinking about being stuck? What is going on right there? Why do I need this control again? This feeling of absolute freedom whenever I want when I can achieve that freedom mentally with my car being in the driveway. Little things like that make me realize that I need to get back to centering myself, so I’m going to start meditating again every day, because you asked what I do for my mental health — to be completely honest, I don’t really take care of myself that much!

I’m just kind of a go, go, go person and I like pushing myself. I look at life like a big video game; the more levels I can beat, the more fun it is, but eventually, you get tired of the game and you have to step back so I’m going to try to be putting meditation back into my life. Aside from that, I’ve been reading way more during the pandemic. I’ve read three books, "The Little Prince" is one of them; it’s a children’s book, but you can call it that! I read a book! I’ve read like three books which is more than I’ve read all through "Roswell" because I was just so occupied with writing, so that’s been helping me take a step back and unwind. Aside from that, I need pointers! I need to figure out what taking care of myself actually looks like, because it is peaks and valleys when it comes to my mental health.

C: It seems like you're always working, even when you're not shooting. You're a bit addicted to work, maybe?

M: I think so. I think I’m addicted to accomplishing things that I don’t even think I should be able to accomplish. The people that fascinate me are the Donald Glovers of the world. The guys, and women, who you hear they did something and you’re like, “How?!” How did they make a hit album, a hit TV show, act in all these movies, write for a TV show — all these things that just don’t seem feasible, but he accomplished them! I want that. I like that. I like being the person who is always pushing to just be outside of their comfort zones and accomplish something that was a dream at one point in your life that could turn into reality. I’m really fascinated by that whole process or turning dreams into reality.

C: I think people our age can get really discouraged if one thing doesn’t work out and for a person to be able to keep going, for it to only motivate them more — I think that’s probably a superpower.

M: Superpower or just a big ego! It’s one of the two. Ego is something that I’ve thought about heavily. I’ve blown relationships in the past because of ego, I think my acting work five years ago wasn’t good because of ego. Then you get stripped down, you get beaten down by life, and you get a little more comfortable with the uncomfortable and I think that’s where the best work comes from. For me, yeah, I think I just really like pushing myself. I do see life like this video game, so if one door closes, you don’t put the game down, you don’t all of a sudden stop playing, no, you keep playing in order to beat it! And sometimes that might mean buying the cheat code book or asking a friend how to beat this level or whatever it is, but those little things to figure out how to get past what you’re stuck with — I love those moments. I love getting through something that doesn’t seem like something I can accomplish.

C: Yeah, and something I wrote down, actually, was that from watching "Roswell" season two, I feel like your character is very jaded and he almost needs stuff proven to him to believe that good things can happen. Which makes sense because of all the shit he’s been through and all the trauma that he’s experienced in his life, but were you ever like that personally? Even after this really traumatic experience happened with your friend, are you more jaded because of all these things that have happened in the last year?

M: You know what? No, I’m not. Maybe I should be but, no. I have a tough time living life without leaving my heart on my sleeve and being vulnerable. I think the beauty is in vulnerability, and I admit that I’m not always good at that. I’m actually realizing I’m really bad at that when it comes to relationships with a woman that I may love. It can be very hard for me to say exactly what I want or what I’m feeling. I don’t know why that is exactly, but when it comes to anything else in life, I can say anything I want, anything I’m feeling — I could spill my guts to the cashier at a gas station and I can be okay with that and who I am. So, no, not jaded. The experience that I had with my friend passing, that has just made me more aware, right? Just knowing that accidents like that, freak accidents, like what happened to him on a boat in the middle of Central America at a time where you didn’t think you had a care in the world — that can be flipped on its head in a second. So, just kind of knowing that and that might mean me looking across the street, left and right an extra time, but just kind of learning from every experience but still moving ahead as if I’m just this kid in this world for the first time, soaking everything in. And if I get hurt, that’s just a part of the process. Me being a masochist for my art, because the more I get hurt in real life, the better my art is. It’s kind of a weird balance. If I wasn’t an actor, maybe I wouldn’t feel that way, but I’ve always been this way even before I started acting in my senior year of college. So, that’s tough. I don’t think I’ve been like Michael Guerin, though, where I’m just reaching for answers all the time. I, in the past, prove to myself that I’m a good person or I’m wanted or that I actually can find success in the things I love. It’s just put the hard hat on and go to work and keep plugging away.

C: Interesting. I think that you have really done a good job of truly just drawing on those experiences then, because you really portray that through Guerin really well. I mean, he’s just so different than you which, I mean, is how acting is supposed to be, I guess, right? [Laughs] I guess I don’t know too much about acting.

M: No, definitely! And maybe we even talked about this in the last interview, but I was always so surprised that Carina MacKenzie, our showrunner, said that, as an actor, I am the most different in real life than I am as my character. It kind of blew my mind! I feel like I am Michael Guerin! I feel like everything Michael Guerin does is exactly how Michael Vlamis would react in a situation, but the difference is, when it comes to acting, the truth I’m bringing is under the circumstances of Michael Guerin. So, what he’s going through is exactly how I would react in those situations, but I’m just not in those situations because that’s not how I think or operate in my life! But if I was to do that, then that is what you would get. So, it doesn’t feel that far off for me because I have all those things in me, that is who I am, a lot of those feelings of anger or jealousy or the feeling of not being loved or proving yourself, being wanted. I have all that stuff, it’s just not coming out on a daily basis because, in life, I like to keep things light for the most part — I like to make jokes all the time, but, deep down, I’m a very serious person who's had to work on anger issues in the past and had to really find balance in how I react to certain situations. The beautiful thing about Guerin is that I can just be the worst parts of me. I can put that on screen because that’s interesting to watch, you know?

C: I’m interested to see you in other stuff. I’m interested to see if your biopic gets made and stuff too, I haven’t seen you in anything else. Or write anything, you know?

M: Well, a lot of people haven’t, which is so funny to me, because I have been doing self-tape auditions right now for movies that are trying to be cast and no idea when production is going to happen, but people are trying to do virtual auditions, trying to fill their cast so that they can go shoot once this pandemic is over. A lot of things I’m auditioning for are comedies, but people are like, “Can he do comedy?” Which is so funny! Comedy is my bread and butter. Comedy is probably what I do better than anything, but people don’t know me as that! They knew me as that initially and that’s why I couldn't even get an audition on "Roswell," because I was the comedy guy, and now I’m, like, the dramatic guy. [Laughs] You always have to prove to people and make them see that you can't be put in a box. It will be very cool for the world to see me acting in other projects and, actually, my first feature film that I produced and starred in called “Five Years Apart” just picked up a distribution deal through an amazing distributor and in the states. We’ve got sales happening in foreign markets right now; we’ve locked up like three territories out of seventeen worldwide and this movie is very special to me. It’s an indie dramatic comedy, pretty much about two estranged brothers coming together over a wild weekend and a very specific incidence happens that forces them together and it’s very funny. It’s a really fun movie. It was a thirteen-day shoot in LA.

C: Wow! That’s not long at all!

M: No, no! It was very quick. We didn’t have a lot of money, you know? A lot of people said that we couldn’t make the movie for double of what we ended up making it for. Everybody who said that to us, these were line producers who have done big, successful movies, and were just doing us a favor with budgeting, and it comes down to that video game mentality again. Oh, you think I can’t make for this much? Okay, watch me make it for half of that and still do a good job! I don’t know, that might be the whole pride aspect — stubbornness, ego or whatever, but I’m very proud of this movie. We won best ensemble cast at the LA Indie Film Fest last year where it premiered and then we recently picked up distribution. Once this pandemic is over that movie should hit screens, hopefully a few theaters, and then some of the streaming platforms. People will see me in a totally different role than Michael Guerin.

C: I can’t wait to see it, that sounds awesome.

M: And then, for the writing, the Mac Miller biopic was the first dramatic screenplay I wrote. It’s funny that the drama that I write gets my writing partner and I all the meetings. We’ve met with some major companies since that script made The Black List, but all the other projects we have are all big studio comedies. We’re even about to finish, here in the pandemic, writing my next movie. We’re about 75% done with that and we’ll have a mob action comedy done within the next few weeks.

C: Oh my god! You’re so productive; it’s insane. It’s so amazing.

M: I just go, go, go, you know? I don’t know if it’s very healthy but it excites me. I live for the excitement. I live for the thrill. I live for the unknown. I was talking to my mom the other day and, I didn’t even know this story, but I guess when we were kids, my sisters and I — if I wanted something, my mom, even before I could really speak, was talking to me, asking questions. She was trying to get me to figure out what I wanted or how to get through a certain situation. If I had a problem with homework and I took it to her, she wouldn’t just do it for me or even just teach me how to do it, she would really push me to figure out how to do it myself. So, I think this feeling that I have really stems from those early days of always having to figure things out on my own. Of course, she would help me if I really, really needed it, but she always made me figure stuff out on my own and I take a lot of pride in that. I like doing that. I don’t know, maybe that’s where the productivity comes or maybe it comes from just not feeling like I’m ever really enough. I don’t actually know, but I know I’ve felt that in certain parts of my life, but I think I’m over that. Yet, the productivity remains.

C: And you can be proud when you make things because you’re actually doing the shit yourself. You’re actually self-made. You didn’t get this stuff handed to you.

M: Yeah, and also, don’t get me wrong, all the work that I do — these are my hobbies. What I do for a living are my hobbies, so I don’t think of it as productivity. I think of it as, this is what I need to do every single day. If I’m not doing something, I feel useless. I’ve had those bouts, and I don’t know if that’s healthy or maybe that is just me. Maybe I am just a born storyteller, that’s what I like to do. I like to sit around with friends, tell stories, hear their stories, figure out the little details that made that story so interesting, and then move on to the next story.

C: I mean, I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong or bad to have a lifeline, especially in a time like that. It’s necessary; it’s what keeps us going.

M: Exactly. At the beginning of this quarantine, we were not writing, we were just figuring out our lives — what are these next few months going to look like? I was depressed. Then we started diving into this script every day and, all of a sudden, I have this purpose again. That keeps me going. That’s definitely helpful for my mental health.

C: I feel similarly about projects. I think I do tie a lot of my self-worth into success or self-defined success which isn’t always great, but it keeps me hustling. I’m never just sitting around like, “Oh, what am I gonna do?” I’m doing the shit that’s in my head and I want to make it happen.

M: There’s something very fulfilling about that.

C: I don’t have sympathy for people who just sit around and don’t know how to start living your life.

M: I know! I used to be that way even more but over the years I’ve realized that people didn’t have parents like I had. My dad was very tough on me, but always pushed me to be the best version of myself — both my parents did. Were my dad’s ways the best ways to do it? I don’t know. If you tell a lot of people how my dad was, they might think there’s some problems there, but guess what? It worked for me. I think about it as these other people who maybe aren’t feeling the same way as I am about productivity, whatever it may be, maybe they didn’t have the drive instilled in them from their parents. Immediately they’re at a disadvantage. It’s hard to judge somebody without knowing exactly how they were raised because I’m really realizing as I get older that that has defined who I am so much.

C: That’s true.

M: I don’t know. I mean, I’m 30 years old now. I turned 30 during the quarantine. I’ve experienced loss in a different way. Swimming up to a body floating in the ocean that you think you’re going to turn over and it’s going to be your buddy just making a goof! Just messing around. Pretending he’s floating in the water and then you turn him around and you realize this is way more serious that I thought it ever could’ve been. Living through a moment like that just makes you feel more and more. A lot of people take a step out of their body and they stop feeling because they don’t want to be heartbroken again or hurt. I’m a little bit the other way.

I kind of step up a little more. I think that getting so deep into that story — it’s a weird story to tell, but when my buddy died in Panama, I was the one that found him. I was an all-state swimmer as a kid in elementary school! Like, fifty-yard freestyle! I was very fast. So I’m thinking to myself, okay, he’s in the water, I’m probably the most capable of saving him, should something actually be wrong. I dove overboard into the ocean and swam as fast as I could into a pool of blood. I found my buddy and it was not a pretty sight. We got his body back onto the boat, got him to the hospital on the island, which looked like a rundown motel in East Hollywood, and he didn't have a chance. And then it’s this group of ten guys, some of us have been best friends forever, some of us just meeting for the first time because, maybe, college friends are involved and invited instead of just the high school buddies that grew up together. How these ten guys banned together and were there for each other to contact the family back in the states, let them know what happened, and go to the U.S. Embassy in Panama, talk to the authorities, the police, the doctors, and really step up. It’s just been an amazing, horrible experience — something I wish on nobody.

But it opened me up a lot and surprised me, especially with my buddies from the Southside of Chicago who I would never, ever in a million years thought would go to therapy. Those are the guys that make fun of therapy, right? Even I did at one point growing up. I thought, therapy? Who needs therapy? And then you go and you realize it’s a really healthy thing! I was really ignorant for thinking anything less than how important it is. But those guys are in therapy now and it’s helping them and I thought that that was such a cool thing to come from that experience. These masculine men who have kind of realized that it’s okay to actually be in touch with yourself.

C: Michael, I’m so sorry that that happened to you and it’s a tragedy that no one should have to experience, but I just want to say thanks for being open about it and being willing to talk with me about it. What you’ve learned from it and how you’ve turned it around and used it in your life and in your art is really beautiful.

M: Thank you. I know my buddy would be very proud, if he’s watching or listening, knowing that I try to make the most out of a horrible situation. That was a lot of what was on my mind during the photoshoot for this and the year anniversary just came up. Sometimes I tell that story and laugh. Such a horrific story but I’m laughing because it doesn’t even seem real! Then I go on a socially distant photoshoot on a trail in the middle of nowhere with Davy; when he asked me about it, it caused me to kind of dive into myself and how I’m feeling. I think a lot of those feelings about my buddy…they didn’t go anywhere, you know? No matter how much I mask them, they didn’t go anywhere. I think a lot of that came in the photos that he took. [Davy] definitely has a special touch for getting the truth out of people.

C: I’m honored that you talked to me about it and that I’m gonna get to show these photos on my website. I’m really thankful and I appreciate you.

M: I appreciate you! I love your interviews, they’re always my favorite. The most raw, organic conversations we can have are what I like and that’s what you do. I appreciate that.

C: Thank you for saying that.

M: Of course.

C: Is there anything else that you wanted to talk about while I have you?

M: I think I should thank anyone who’s reading this that has purchased merch from our second season merch line which just wrapped up a couple weeks ago — thank you so much. We beat our numbers from last year. I thought people maybe had enough merch out of me for once, but we crushed our numbers from last year in just a two week span!

C: That’s amazing.

M: It is so amazing! It’s so cool. I think it’s a big testament to my business partner Jesa Joy, who prints all of my merch and softens every single piece so it feels vintage, one of a kind. People got that merch and it could easily be a gimmicky thing, but instead, we’re really making quality clothes starting with Jesa Joy and that’s keeping people coming back. Hopefully, with how open I am on social media, I think that’s resonating with the fans and they appreciate that so the more I give, the more they give. It’s just this beautiful thing that’s setting me up to potentially have my own fashion line one day, maybe take it from merch to fashion, and that’s a goal of mine for many years down the road. The fact that all of my fans are so supportive and just totally understand my humor and what I’m doing means the world to me. It’s just a really cool thing to see and find success in. Otherwise, I pitched for that TV show, one of my childhood idols, one of the biggest comedic actors of all time, and we’re trying to get him attached to my show. He might say no and that’s totally okay because we got him laughing! He was laughing throughout our pitch yesterday and it felt so special. So, maybe, if we did this interview in a week, I’d have amazing news or maybe I would be bummed out because the guy doesn’t get attached to the show. Either way, it’s been experiences like that, little moments where you’re down, you’re out, you’re feeling depressed, and then you’re making a childhood hero of yours laugh over a zoom pitch. Moments like that have really helped me through quarantine — finding those small, little wins every now and then.

C: The wins are important.

M: And the win isn’t that you win! It’s not the outcome, it’s the process which I always thought was such bullshit. “Trust the process,” and I didn’t want to trust the process! I wanted to make the process! That’s not possible, you know? It’s only possible to a certain extent, you really have to let things play out as they want to and I’m finding the wins in letting things play out the way the universe wants them to.

[sleekervae]

Young God [0.3]

Despite the obvious connection she felt with Andy, the way they clicked, Taylor had told herself not to get attached to him, that they were strangers passing and that this week was probably the only time they would ever meet. But when she watched him on stage, when she observed him in his element, she forgot about all of that.

Even in his lanky nature, Andy was an explosion on stage, like a paint bomb going off in a white room. There was something about the way he hyped the crowd all the way through the set, his smile when he heard them singing back to him loud enough so that he didn't have to, the infectious joy she felt watching the band play -- according to their setlist -- Fallen Angels.

There was so much to explore in the spunk, the charisma, the effortlessness of his performance that accentuated his raw talent, his long hair in his face and eyes, his nose resting on the microphone as he sang into it, the way he leaned well over the stage, how he bent down in a passion-fueled growl, how he seemed to get lost in the moment and it was hard to believe she'd only known him a couple of hours because she felt so intrigued and interested by him, his mind, drawn to his presence.

When Black Veil Brides' show had come to an end, Taylor was jolted forward when Danny suddenly slapped her on the back. He held a grin like a proud parent watching his kids perform on stage, beaming with the energy that had just been expelled from the last forty-five minutes.

"Oi! What were that for?" Taylor scolded him, rubbing at her sore shoulder blade.

"Well, what'd ya' think?" he asked, completely ignoring her irritation at his actions.

Taylor grinned then as she stole another glance at the sweaty boys coming off their stage, "... Very loud," she chuckled, "Very impressive, though,"

Later on in the day Taylor found herself sitting under a white pop-up tent, guitar sat in her lap as young kids, probably ranging between the ages of 12 to 19 came funnelling in. They sat either on the grass or in folding chairs. Taylor's rhythm guitarist and best friend, Maxeen, was sat next to her. Her own nervous tension bounced off of Taylor's and reverberated around the small square space.

The heat radiating off the sun certainly was no comfort to them.

A close but discreet enough distance away were Danny and Ben, promptly joined by Andy and Ashley who they invited to come and watch Taylor's set. With a fresh cigarette in his fingers Andy watched with intrigue as Taylor balanced her scratched and sticker-covered acoustic guitar in her lap, strumming it a few times to tune it just to her liking. She inhaled deeply a few times as she watched the crowd grow to the size of the average school classroom. Her blue hair fell over her face just to be quickly tucked behind her ears. He could tell she was terrified.

Their mediator came to address the crowd, a taller, scruffier man with sleeve tattoos and a Hawaiian shirt. Taylor took another deep breath.

"Thanks so much guys for coming out to Warped Tour this year!" he announced, earning a few faded claps and whoops, "We brought out a very special guest for you all today. She's the newest budding rock act in England right now, and she was gracious enough to find time in her schedule to come and hang out with us this week!"

He then turned to Taylor and winked. She smiled politely.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm Warped welcome -- trying saying that ten times fast -- to Taylor Wray!" the mediator stepped away to another round of echoing applause.

Taylor took another deep breath as the clapping died down, "Yeh're all doin' alreyht, yeah?" she spoke softly, "Please forgive the accent," the unique zang of her Geordie accent brought a merry giggle to the audience. That was a small comfort at least. She looked to Maxeen, who nodded encouragingly and Taylor counted them in.

"Okay, one, two, three, four..."

The soft, haunting twang of her guitar floated through the airs, wafted pleasantly through Andy's ears as she started to sing. From the moment she opened her mouth her voice was golden, flowing like rich velvet with a raspiness that he found incredibly sexy. Her fingers plucked delicately at the string, and her brown eyes were focused on the worn out wood so as not to face the reality that she was really performing here. He noted how Taylor's knee trembled as she tried not to bounce from the nervous energy, or how she was glancing at her partner now and then for reassurance. She had to clear her throat once or twice before the next verse, but regardless she was unlike any specimen Andy had ever laid eyes on.

Yet as she sang, there was an underlying darkness to her. Perhaps it was the solemn emotion, or how her heartbroken poetry struck a chord within him. She had key phrases in her songs that had chills running down his spine. The crowd seemed just as taken with her as he was, sitting quietly yet their attention appeared undividing from Taylor's music.

"She's pretty good," Ashley mused, "Is she doing any stage shows?" he asked Ben.

"No," he huffed, "But you guys gotta' see her on the electric guitar. She goes insane!"

"Yeah!" Danny piped in, "She's even better then Ben!"

Andy snickered as the taller boy glared at his bandmate, but he shrugged nonetheless, "I'm not even gonna' argue with that one, actually. You're right," he chuckled.

Andy took another drag of his cigarette, "So how long is she here for?" he asked them.

"Rest of the week," Danny replied.

He and Ashley was surprised at that, "That's it? She's not doing the circuit?"

"We was lucky enough to get her out for a week," Ben said, "If we can get her signed to a label here, she could stay for longer next time,"

"So, where does she go to get signed?" Andy asked.

"Whoever wants her," Danny said, "Unfortunately, we haven't met a lot of labels who're interested in taking on a rocker bird like her. We just managed to talk our boss into signing her,"

"Fuck. They're loss, dude," Ashley scoffed bitterly.

From just behind the clouds the sun was able to come through, spotlighting a glow just behind the Englishwoman's head. The light made her hair appear platinum, shifting from dark and light wash blues with every little move that she made. When her song came to an end she finally opened her eyes, and her gaze fell on Andy himself. Near immediately her knee stopped trembling, and instead a soft smile wormed its way to her face.

Andy took another quick drag.

A sum of hours had passed. The night was beginning to christen the sky with hues of vibrant oranges that would soon fade out into encompassing purples and indigos. The last of the acts were going on stage and soon the festival would be cleaned up and packed off for the next destination.

In that time frame -- that of which Taylor hadn't kept track of -- she was sitting in the middle of Danny's flat and was refolding and packing her clothes for the venture tomorrow. Beside her was an ashtray with a sizzling joint. She felt calmer now then she had earlier, her first performance in America now checked off her list. Well, perhaps maybe half a check mark would've sufficed? An acoustic only show was blatantly boring to Taylor.

The front door suddenly swung open and Danny came jogging in, being the sole epitome of giddiness and stimulus. He was a little less put together from when she'd last seen him -- with greasy, messy hair and sweat-filmed skin; not to mention the brash odour of overworked body that followed him through the door.

"I've walked this road for hours

To the white hills, and the oceans I search for solace in this toxic land of sin Just let me in! Just let me in!"

Taylor smirked at his off-key, top-of-lungs singing, "I take it you had a good time," she said.

"It was great," he huffed, "We missed you afterwards,"

"Well, they didn't need me anymore," Taylor shrugged back, "Thought I'd come back and catch a few winks. Maxeen and Robin went out shopping,"

Danny ran a hand through his soggy hair and flopped down on the couch, "Well, you could've slept on the bus," he said.

Taylor scrunched her nose at the notion, "No offence, Dan, but I ain't putting me head on any of them surfaces in that bus of yours. I don't know what's touched the cushions,"

Danny started to laugh, "Tay, what do you think we do? Have a good wank before the show?"

"There have been stranger pre-show rituals," Taylor replied, "You gonna' shower? You smell like sweaty-dude-in-a-cheap-gym,"

"Yeah, I'm gonna' shower," Danny said, "What're you doing with your clothes?"

"Packing," she shrugged, "Where are we going tomorrow?"

"Ventura," he huffed, "Maybe see some talking animals? Perhaps we'll run into a particualr skillful animal detective?" he wiggled his eyebrows at her. Taylor shook her head with a chuckle.

"I've heard funnier, Danny," she said.

He gave a small hmph before snatching the joint out of the ashtray and taking his own drag, "Very well. You up for a night out?" he asked her then.

Taylor couldn't help but groan, her head was pounding at the thought, "Again, eh? Last night weren't enough for you?" she replied, hoping that he was just joking.

"Come on, we won't go crazy tonight. We're going to just drink beer and bullshit on the bus," he said, "If you want, you don't even have to do anything rough,"

Taylor stopped and stared up at him. Danny stared back too, right until they caught onto the same page and chuckled merrily, "That's what she said," they said in unison.

With that, Taylor stood up from the floor and did a quick stretch, throwing her hands over her head to pull out the knick that that formed in her lower back. Fuck, when did the floor get so hard?

"The guys from Black Veil are coming," Danny suddenly piped in.

With that mention, Taylor started to smile. Her exhaustion then was repleted with a small burst of energy, "Oh, yeah?"

Danny nodded happily, "Yeah! They liked your set. I mean -- Andy and Ashley did, anyway. I don't know where the other three were,"

"I didn't meet Ashley," she said.

"Well, now you can," Danny put the joint back down and went for his bedroom to freshen up, "What did you think of their show, love?" he called.

"You already asked me that!" Taylor replied.

"Yeah, but you weren't smiling the way you are now, you cheeky shit," she could just imagine the shit-eating smirk on Danny's face now.

"Oh, fuck off, Danny," she scolded back.

"I'm only teasing ya', Tay," Danny suddenly popped back out of his room, only donned in a pair of track pants, "I told him if he dares lay a hand on ya', I'll kill him,"

Taylor scoffed back, gawking at him up and down, "Danny, you're about as threatening as a beach ball," she told him.

"I have muscles though!" he replied, "Biersack's a twig,"

"What's your point?" she asked.

"You can fuck a beach ball," he replied, "A twig I reckon is unsavory,"

Taylor stared at him in near disbelief at his words, then she started to laugh, "Mate, what the fuck?" she exclaimed, "Tell me you haven't actually... like you didn't... like... wait, Danny," she stopped laughing then when she wondered if he was being dead serious in his analogy.

"I haven't, if that's what you're wondering," he said, "I wouldn't put it past Cam though. He might be small enough to fit it in the air hole,"

With teasing disappointment, Taylor grabbed one of her shirts and threw it at him. It missed him by a few inches, "You're sick!"

"I love you!"

Andy glanced through the top of his beer bottle, peering at what was left before he quickly down the rest and set the glassware aside with a few of the other empty bottles. Not solely all of his, to be clear. He was only half listening to Ben's drunken story which involved James, alcohol, nudity and a very pretty fan from one of their European shows. His fingers drummed on the armrest of the couch, glancing out the window now and again to see if he could spot Danny and Taylor somewhere in the night.

There was a new and unfamiliar excitement that coursed through him with every thought of Taylor. Never before had he been so taken by a woman like her; somebody who at first glance appeared so shy and quiet like a little church mouse, yet within her held a great and unequivocal power that hypnotized those who paid close enough attention to her.

He took another beer from the six pack and started to listen in.

"... and then I just look at this sad sack o' shit and go 'mate, I was just going to ask if you wanted to eat'," Ben's story had the other boys in stitches, apart from James who scowled and blushed profusely as that particular disdainful memory.

"I didn't think it was funny," he grumbled.

"You're just upset 'cause she didn't call you back the next day," Sam awed at him.

Cameron just shrugged nonchalantly with a swig of his own beer, "I didn't think she were that pretty. She were like one of 'em trashy Essex girls," he said.

"Well mate," Ben leaned over and patted James' shoulder reassuringly," when you've had as much to drink as James did that night, anybody's beautiful," The bus cracked up in drunken laughter again, the only being that seemed lit and raucous on a rather quiet night in the bus parking lot.

Meanwhile, Taylor squeaked and scampered off to the side to narrowly avoid being hit by Danny's mud splash, "Fuck off, Danny!" she cried, quickly checking to see if he'd stained her outfit. Not that she put much effort into it; only a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a white t-shirt with a pair of tits drawn on the front.

"Oi, simmer down, Tay. I'm only teasing with ya'," Danny wrapped his larger arm around her and proceeded to ruffle her teal blue hair, much to Taylor's chagrin.

"Yeah, you're just teasing with me," she wriggled out of his grasp, "Wanker,"

"My deepest apologies,"

They trudged through the field, reaching a park lot that was crammed to the brim with vehicles. Tour buses, equipment vans, jeeps and SUVs. They passed a larger bus decked out in black, with tinted window and a bright red stripe on its side. It loomed over and cast an imposing shadow over the three musicians, swallowing the gravel and grass beneath them in a pool of black. The ultra bright stadium lights set up around the park were the only stark contrast to the shadows, guiding them to their destination.

They finally approached the desired bus, jet black and donning the band's logo on the side in crisp Times New Roman. Danny knocked while Taylor waited anxiously behind. They waited only for a mere matter of seconds before a subtle click echoed through the air and the door swung open. Taylor was taken aback to see an older man standing before them, donning longer hair and an open denim vest. His arms were near-full sleeve tattoos, and he had a face that held this brooding, yet cute quality to it -- kind of like a grizzly bear.

"Ashley, mate!" Danny raised his hand and full-on bro-hugged the older lad, "Handsome at ever, man,"

"Back at you, dude," Ashley replied, his eyes then landed on Taylor and his smile grew.

"And it's nice to finally meet you, Taylor," he said, "I'm Ashley,"

Taylor smiled shyly and shook his hand, "Pleasure," she said, "Areyainthebandthen?"

Ashley's smile then faltered. He bent his head down as though he couldn't hear her, but in actuality he didn't think it was humanly possible for people to speak so fast and still hear them.

"Come again?" he said.

"She asked if it's your band," Danny said, "Tay's a Geordie, they have their own funny accent,"

"It ain't funny!" Taylor cried, "It's jus' unique,"

Ashely then nodded, "Okay... well, do you drink back in Geordie? Or whatever part of England you're from?" he then chuckled.

"Sure," Taylor replied, "In fact, I can drink Danny here under the table still do a perfect cartwheel,"

"Bullshit you could," Danny scoffed.

"We'll put it to the test inside," With that, Ashley stood back again, "Welcome to Warped Tour, Taylor,"

Taylor followed Danny inside with  Ashley taking up the rear. The first thing that hit Taylor was the distinct smell of charred nicotine and hops. The next was department store aftershave, the good shit though; not the cheap bottles her dad used to buy. Coming into the atmosphere of an actual tour bus felt somewhat claustrophobic and confining to Taylor, yet at the same time, she felt quite safe inside. Glancing out the tinted windshield she could see the world, yet they had no inkling of whether she was inside or not.

Aimless chatter and laughter struck her ears, some men and women. Taylor nervously pushed some of her hair behind her ear, forcing herself to put on a smile to engage new strangers. The bus was clean enough, just some pillows were awry on the couch and the countertop was littered with cans, bottles, and red cups. The Asking boys were sat around in company with a few other strangers she had yet to meet.

"Fellas!" Ben suddenly called when he spotted his friends, "The party has now begun!" he raised his arms to the side as though he were giving a church sermon. The three young strangers stood and greeted Danny, whilst Taylor hung back, looking aimlessly at her sneakers as the old friends got reacquainted. She then noted the rips in her jeans, showing off the several week-old bruises that freckled her knees. That was an occupational hazard, she always tried to look badass and slammed down on her knees during her guitar solos, effectively yet unintentionally harming herself. The crowd however seemed to love it.

"I'd like you guys to meet somebody," Danny interjected then, stepping back to let Taylor have the hot seat, "Meet the hottest new act in Britain,"

"Danny!" she scolded, abashed as red tinted her olive cheeks.

"What?" he shrugged, "Was I wrong?"

"He most certainly is not!" a lankier young man approached, with a long face and smudged makeup beneath his eyes that just seemed to burst with enthusiasm, "I'm CC,"

"Nice to meet ya'," she shook his head.

CC then turned to his friends, "And over here we got Jake and Jinxx," he pointed to two young men, dressed similarly to himself with floppy hair and old makeup stains, but they were brawnier, "And this bean dick on the couch is Andy,"

"Take a look in the mirror, dude," Andy scolded.

Taylor bit the inside of her lip when she saw him again, and she averted her eyes back to CC to avoid her cheeks growing any redder, "We've actually already met," she said.

"In that case," he then turned to the Asking boys, "Over here, we got Sam, Cameron and James --"

"Oh, shut up and have another drink, CC!" James exclaimed.

Taylor snickered quietly, "I think he's had plenty already," she said, noting the way this boy wavered slightly on his feet.

A few hours had passed into the night, mostly filled with alcohol-fuelled interactions and wild stories from early band days. Once having a few beers, Taylor found herself beginning to settle down around this metal band. They weren't as scary and wicked as her first impressions had told her, if anything they were complete nutters. It helped having Danny and Ben around, just so Taylor didn't feel so lost and out of place amongst them.

Taylor found herself snuggled between Danny and Ben, just listening as oppose to partaking in conversation. She was still so tired beyond anything she'd ever felt, and Taylor quickly regretted coming out tonight. She wondered what Maxeen was up to back in the motel room she'd rented, probably conked out to be well rested for the trip tomorrow.

From across the couch where she sat, Andy was perched on a beanbag, only semi-paying attention to Ben's story about a recent scuffle he had back in York as his eyes kept panning back to Taylor. There was an air of fatigue that floated over her head, her deep brown eyes slipping shut before popping open again at the slightest raise in volume. If she had just come from across the Pond, Andy didn't blame her for being so sleepy. Her teal-blue hair fell delicately around her shoulders, raising gently with every shallow breath she took. His eyes averted then to the holes in her jeans where her bruises were just peaking out. Subconsciously, he pressed down on the rib brace underneath his shirt.

Her glance suddenly shifted and her eyes locked with his, and she blushed when she noticed Andy watching her. She wiggled her eyebrows a few times and suppressed a giggle, a warmth flooded through her when he smiled back. His lips turned into a cocky smirk. Taylor was utterly perplexed by Andy; the cockiness he exuded was undeniable, but she couldn't help but think he was contrastingly soft at the same time, each consuming feature of him seemingly met with a delicate counterpart.

"Tay, you're falling asleep on me," Danny's voice suddenly wafted through her ears and she sat up at the sudden mention of her name. She blushed profusely when the others giggled at her shock.

"Sorry, babe," she mumbled, yawning into her fist. Andy raised his eyebrows and suppressed the snigger that was fighting to make its way out at the way she drawled her words, her accent unlike anything he had heard before.

"That's some accent you got there," Ashley said, near-reading Andy's mind.

"Got it from me ma, dear," Taylor drawled back.

CC then started to laugh to himself, clearly at a well-off point of intoxication, "Deea," he slurred, trying to mock Taylor's accent, "I like the way she says words," he said.

Taylor glanced at him with uncertainty, but she shook her head as she sat up and did al little stretch, "I assume that's a compliment," she said.

"It is," Jake confirmed with an apologetic nod, "So, where are you from in England, Taylor?"

"A little coastal town called Newcastle," she then averted her eyes to the sozzled CC, "We all speak funny there," she grinned.

"But she lives in London with me" Danny said.

"For now," Taylor pointed out, "Until I can afford to get my own flat,"

Cameron snickered, "It's gotta' be fucking awkward when his bird's over," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Taylor looked over at Danny, "Well, it would be nice if the walls were sound proof," she then looked to Ben, "Though it's nothing compared to when Ben comes over,"

"Aye, poor kid," Ben looped an arm around her, "She has to sleep with earbuds in the entire night," he smirked.

"We appreciate your support though, Tay," Danny smirked back.

Taylor refrained from rolling her eyes at their bromance, instead decided to fish her lighter from her pocket and stood up, "I'm gonna' nip out for a cig,"

Andy's mouth moved faster than his brain did, "Care for some company, darlin'?" he asked. Taylor raised an eyebrow at him. She suddenly realized that all of the boys were staring at her expectantly, and felt herself go flush again.

"Why not," she replied. Andy took that as an invitation and hopped to his feet, wavering a little as he struggled to find his balance. From there he grabbed a packet of cigarettes off the countertop and followed her to the bus door. Danny suddenly shouted after them.

"Have her back in ten minutes, Biersack!" he called in a threatening manner.

"Yeah!" Ben piped in, "Or we'll come find ya!"

Andy smirked at them, "I'm quaking," he mocked. Taylor rolled her eyes as they stepped outside. Much to her relief, the night air was warmer than what she'd come prepared for. She regretted wearing her thicker denim jacket. Andy blew strands of hair out of his face and shook his head, acclimatizing himself to the warmer air. The two of them sat on the grass, leaning against the side-trunk of the bus. Andy produced the cigarettes and Taylor pulled out the lighter.

"So," Andy exhaled, handing Taylor a cigarette, "Taylor Wray,"

Taylor grinned, "Andy... w-what's your last name again?" she asked as she placed the bud between her lips.

"Biersack," he replied.

"Oh," Taylor clicked the flame and lit the end of her cig, then handed the lighter to the long-haired rocker, "Is that European?"

"German," he replied, "Where does 'Wray' come from?"

"Scotland,"

"... But you're from England,"

Taylor gave him a wayside glance, "Their two parts of a whole, babe," she held up two fingers just to make her point.

Andy smiled sheepishly and took another drag, "... I knew that," he said.

Taylor giggled to herself. Her captivating smile and the tiny creases around her eyes as she laughed drew Andy in instantly. He wasn't sure if she was laughing from his meek comeback or it was just the alcohol doing it for her. But by God, the noise bubbling from between her lips was melodic and addictive from the first note.

"Have you ever been to England, Andy?" she asked.

"I was there about a month ago for the Download Fest," he replied.

"You went to Leicestershire?"

Again, Andy paused, grinning like a fool at her accent as he puffed away on his cigarette, "Yeah, we went to Leisheshire,"

"Leicestershire," Taylor corrected, "Le-shy-steh-shire,"

"Leshestasirw," Andy drawled, "Leshesham. Lesbian. Who gives a fuck?"

"People from Leicestershire, I'd imagine," to both Andy and Taylor's surprise, she started laughing again. She didn't know what had gotten into her suddenly, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Why was she so fucking giggly all of the sudden? It may have been the way Andy was looking at her; transfixed by his crystalline eyes that seemed to bore a hole right into her soul. Despite the hair covering his face, those eyes of his were so crisp and clear.

"Are you already plastered?" Andy asked, reigning his own grin of amusement.

"No!" she exclaimed just a tad too quickly for her own liking, "Look, I -- right. I have been drinking. That being said, I am also so fucking exhausted from this jet lag. So, please forgive me if I act like a fucking nutter,"

"A fookin' nuttah?" Andy mocked back, making Taylor giggle some more, "You're pretty cute, Taylor,"

"Well, you're not so bad, neither," she admitted shyly, "It's nice to see what that face looks like without the makeup,"

Andy took a drag and exhaled slowly. He held this electric charisma about him, seemingly so that it wouldn't matter how many times he'd verbally tear himself down, he was a cocky, confident young man.

"Did I freak you out today?" he asked.

"Hardly," she replied, her gaze dropping to the ink on his arms, "You have a lot of tattoos, eh?"

"Why, yes I do," he replied.

"You got a favourite one?"

He didn't reply. Instead, Andy raised his right arm, proudly showing off the Batman tattoo on his forearm, "Is now a good time to mention I'm a huge Batman nerd?"

"You could've fooled me," Taylor replied, shedding her jacket to reveal her bare arms, "I'm more of a Poison Ivy fan myself," she held her forearm out to proudly show off the dark green inking of an ivy vine, the inside filled with a dulled red.

"It's cute," he brushed his fingers over the delicate lines, only noting then how Taylor suddenly winced when he touched her. He pulled back, "Are you okay?"

"Your hands are freezing, mate," she chuckled.

Andy relaxed again, "I just naturally have cold hands, can't explain it," he grinned sheepishly.

Taylor brought her own cigarette to her lips, and out came three rings of silky grey smoke; an old trick she had picked up back home. Andy just watched, his own breath nearly getting caught in his throat when her lily perfume intermingled with the smell of charred nicotine.

"You showing off now?" he asked.

"Maybe," she shrugged back, leaning in closer so her nose just barely touched his. She was unsure just what had made her so brazen suddenly; perhaps the deadly combination of alcohol and fatigue had something to do with it. Whatever it was, Taylor found it undeniably exciting, "You got any secret talents of your own, Andy?"

Andy swallowed back whatever qualms he was holding on to, slowly memorizing every delicate detail of Taylor's face as though he was afraid to loose one mere second of her. However, before he could reply, they heard a shout come from above.

"Oi! You two!" they both looked up, and lo and behold, Danny and Ben had stuck their heads out of the bus window, "Get your arses back in here!" Danny exclaimed.

"You said we had ten minutes!" Andy replied, "Besides, you're no one's parent!"

"Yeah!" Taylor cried defiantly.

Ben tutted at them, "But we're morally responsible for Taylor. Ain't that right, honey?" he smirked.

"Oh, suck my dick, Ben!" Taylor replied, loud enough so that the others would hear her. With that, Andy burst into a fit of laughter, and more could be heard from inside the bus.

Danny shook his head, "How unbecoming of a lovely lady," he mocked.

Taylor looked to Andy, who was caught in the throes of hysterical amusement. She chuckled herself and took another quick drag before crushing the end into the grass, trying not to stare at him as he calmed down. But fuck, from the way he threw his head back to the curl of his lips when he smiled, Taylor felt herself falling into a rabbit hole she feared she wasn't going to crawl out from any time soon.

[aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaoldretired]

some p!g-drv3 theories (spoilers obvi)

First of all I think people demonize the pg versions wayyy too much because its a good way to be le sexy in like fanfictions. And i get it, villains are hot or whatever. and also hs is a horny age to be. But even the edgiest and horniest of teens aren’t like. that sexual/monstrous. its kind of insane the portrayals people are placing

maybe this could also be like me being older bc when i was early hs i was like yea its fair to place these super mature portrayals on a 18-22 year old they are like adults but young and now im that age and im like woah there pardner. might be an age/maturity thing. 

also like its normal for people to relate to and portray characters their same age in a similar fashion, but when adults write more sexual content about the dg kids i get hella fucking sus

idk where i was going with that first comment i guess its like a preface and in the end i think its important when characters especially teenage characters are morally grey not because they’re mature and dark/brooding but because they are still young and learning. fuck im older than like most of them, but im still young and learning. its good to be in turmoil and confused, especially the drv3 cast. they are more confused than anything.

which i think is a reason why people would join dr because if you are completely loss and in turmoil, it is appealing to be given a purpose in life and amazing talents/abilities. despite the morals of danganronpa, it is a simple reality to be told who you are and what to do

OK ONTO HEADCANONS (not doing all bc i dont have thoughts about all)

first of all i understand changing stories but i think, deep down, you can’t change fundamental personalities/values. so while the backstories might be different i think, in the end, a baseline is always the same

SHUICHI being a Bad Boy is like canon obviously but i dont think he’s as manipulative as people make him out to be. i think he falls in the more the bully role that like. mae borowski or tf2′s scout filled before they grew up. rough background, bad anger issues, lots of emotional turmoil, and the only way he knows how to deal with shit is by committing crimes and beating the shit out of people. and, similar to those characters, drv3 represents an older, more emotionally sober yet equally confused version of himself. the urges are still there as foreshadowed in the dialogue. i think he struggles with guilt, mostly survivors, but there is still a lasting impact of guilt of what he did in his past, even if he can’t remember.

KOKICHI is a child. a piece of shit motherfucker child but a child. I really do think he’s like one of the youngest people in the cast. he reminds me a lot of when my brother doesn’t take his adhd medicine and takes jokes way too far and does mean and cruel things because he thinks its funny and that its just a fun joke, but is hurting people. he desperately wants approval, which is why his leader role is so interesting because in the dr narrative he has the approval he craves and so he is satisfied. still, he does try to impress characters like rantaro and values his opinions a lot, even developing a brotherly relationship in the time they knew each other. this being said, its established kokichi was bullied before, but i dont think he’s like. the wimp people make him out to be. i think he’s more of like the class clown who desperately uses humor to make people like him, and ends up resorting to be the butt of most of his jokes. you don’t just develop a good sense of humor out of a brainwash, and that’s not something you can program in. i think that was a remnant of before, and he’s so good at bullying people and coming up with roasts - i just think that in p!g the roasts were about him.

KAEDE is baby but her p!g personality seriously reminds me of any ~quirky/edgy~ girl in a teen coming of age story who tries to be edgy and cool and act like she doesn’t care but deep down, she really does. if she didn’t have an empathetic personality, she wouldn’t want to end the game. i also think she has that self-identifying QuIrKy personality because its like she lives in her own narrative, practically announcing this story is about her and she is the protagonist. i know i used to self narrate like that and distinguish how i was different when i was like. 15-16. she has a tumblr. 

I really like the theory where KAITO is a make-a-wish kid who was better when he was younger but relapses later in teens. he never used his wish before, so he decides to use it now to be on danganronpa and become the hero he always wanted to be. i also think he might have joined as a way to raise awareness about adolescent healthcare. definitely the type who puts on a “heroic” character to make everyone else feel better about the fact he is literally dying of a terminal illness, and keeps that act up till the end. 

i think KOREKIYO is still a serial killer. i think honestly a reason why he mightve auditioned for danganronpa is because he is a serial killer. maybe his sister found out and he felt so much shame that’s why he auditioned. he probably mentioned why in his interview because duh, tell them im a serial killer and then only reason im coming clean is my sister found out and im ashamed, that is like a guarantee to get on the show.  i LOVE the theory that his sister is still alive, however, and has to watch her brother go insane because they wrote her into the story as the villain. because technically, she brought on this guilt, and is the reason why he auditioned - as a way to cause despair, twist it around so she’s the one to blame for his insanity. also, because its pretty accepted DR members become celebrities, kork’s sister is totally bombarded with paparazzi and is demonized in the media. she might end up writing a tell-all memoir about kork’s actual childhood and personality. quiet kid, thoughtful, interested in anthropology, she never thought he’d hurt a fly. watching her brother go insane probably destroyed her. 

I also think, timeline wise, kork is probably one of the oldest members along with rantaro. tbh i think kork actually graduated hs and went on a gap year doing the whole “hitchhike around the world to discover myself thing” which is where he began killing people. he was getting ready to go to college when his sister found out about what he did. this is when he decided to go on danganronpa instead of university. this would help explain why he knows so much about other cultures/travel/been so many places with so many memories/killed/is knowledgable on a level most other students are not. this would place him at like, 20-21, where everyone else is like 15-18.

ok so there’s two p!g RANTARO, p!g before 53 and p!p!g before 52. i’d like to establish now i think rantaro is the oldest of the characters, seeing as though he was already pretty old to begin with in 52, it takes time between television seasons, and he was in another game. so im placing him like 21-23, similar to yasuhiro in d1 being so much older than everyone else. i do think, in all iterations, rantaro was pretty much raising his sisters, though i don’t think he had twelve like the story (i think that’s an exaggeration, his sisters mean a lot to him, lets make him have a TON and then lose them all and feel GUILTY) rantaro joined the first game, partially to get money for his family and hopefully establish them as celebrities and let them have a comfy lifestyle, even if he doesn’t live...and also to finally ahve some sort of experience without his siblings tagging along. if he’s been raising his sisters all his life, he’s never had like something that’s JUST his. that’s his adventure. 52 is his ULTIMATE adventure. ahaha. mostly for money, kind of dreading it, still a tiny bit excited

ok p!g rantaro between 52 and 53 probably came back broken. he did the signings and appearances, but mostly wanted to spend time with his family and make sure they were set up. i think he knew the whole like few months between seasons he had to go on another show, but he did’t tell his sisters. his family found out when they saw a billboard with his face plastered on it hyping up the return of a fan favorite. yikes!

ok i get it a lot of people hate HIMIKO but i think she’s not nearly as similar as other “useless” characters in other games. its like, pretty clear she’s depressed, and the only thing she’s holding onto with dear life is magic. lack of hygiene, lack of personal care, constantly tired, social interaction exhausts - she has depression, but she’s not an UWU depressed character. so people find her depressive traits (which are some of the most realistic portrayals of mental health in the series) SUPER annoygin. she joined dr because she was completely lost and needed some sort of direction in her life, even if she’ll die for it. the thing is, even with direction, her mental state didn’t change because she wasn’t getting legitimate help. it’s like that one SNL skit that’s like. same sad you from before but in a new place. i also think she knows the magic is not real, because how could she not. i think she’s so adamant that it IS real, less as a way to convince others, and more of a way to convince herself. it’s like really super cruel that team danganronpa took a girl who is desperate for meaning and gave her literally a meaningless, fake talent.

i also kin himiko and find her a comfort character because i feel seen by her, replacing her useless talent of magic with mine of like shitty film making and comedy. i am seen.

related i don’t think she’s nearly as ugly as everyone says she is, i think she’s probably just depressed and takes absolutely no care of her hygiene and sleep and looks like sick and greasy all the time. same queen.

honest to god i think RYOMA’s backstory, tennis and all, is like 100% real and he’s the only one who keeps all of his memories except for the fact this is a tv show. i think he rolled up, a hot fucking mess, and the danganronpa team were like damn. we cannot improve upon this. 

[charlie-minion]

The biggest bad to ever bad

Supernatural 14x20 is going to be marked in my head as one of the best season finales of television ever! It’s not because of the quality of the production, though; it’s because of the potential it opened for a fantastic final season of such a long-lasting show. There are so many things I want to talk about (God & the Winchesters, Castiel and Destiel), but I think I will have to write separate posts for each because I don’t want this to get extremely long.

Let’s talk about God and the Winchesters first, shall we?

After 14x20, everything seems to indicate that God is the big bad for season 15, right? In fact, we might even say that God has been the big bad ALL ALONG. Right? RIGHT? Yeah, well… about that…

NO, my dear friends, God is not the big bad on Supernatural, and I’m gonna tell you why that is my opinion.

Disclaimer: This post will include a lot of life philosophies that may or may not resonate with what you believe in. If you think I’m talking bullshit, that’s fine! Just please don’t waste time attacking me or my post in any way because I won’t engage in any type of hateful behavior.  

With that being said, I need to emphasize the beauty orchestrated by Andrew Dabb (showrunner and writer of the finale). He turned the Supernatural universe into a huge metaphor for our own very real world (nothing new if you really think about it). BUT, he also made Chuck the manifestation of the God many people believe exists IRL.

“None of this would have happened without you”, Dean tells John Winchester at the start of the recap. Those words feel ominous now, considering Dean said them to his father but they could as easily be directed to the father of all creation, God himself (or Chuck, as he prefers to be called).  

None of what has happened in 14 years of Supernatural would have happened without Chuck. That’s an undeniable truth, but that doesn’t mean everything has been entirely his fault.

He’s a writer, and writers lie. We were told that in 14x20, but I think Chuck was telling the truth about something in particular:

“You guys know me. I’m hands-off. I built the sandbox… you play in it. You want to fight Leviathans? Cool. You got that. You want to go up against the… What was it? The ‘British Men of Letters’? Okay. Little weak, but okay.”

Chuck created this world with everything in it, and then he “left”. Although, he never truly left. From the beginning he’s been “everywhere and nowhere, to the edge of the universe and beyond”. The thing is that he’s most of the times HANDS-OFF.

He didn’t create other beings to be inferior. “Existence is all about balance”, he said when trying to explain why the Equalizer didn’t have any bullets.

“This doesn’t so much fire bullets as it sends a wave of multi-dimensional energy across a perfectly balanced quantum link between whoever’s shooting it and whoever they’re shooting at.”

Why is that line relevant? Ohhhh because if we read a little about quantum physics, we’ll know that we humans are energy. We all are. Actually, everything that exists in this world is energy. There are some philosophies where the concept of God goes beyond what religion offers. Some people don’t use the word “God”, but they prefer to use the word “Source” because there is a source of energy, and we all are interconnected through that energy that we all share. In a way, we are extensions of Source Energy, and that���s why we all can be considered divine.

If we dig a little into that philosophy, we find out that the human journey in a lifetime is to ascend in consciousness. We have a conscious and subconscious mind, and there’s science to back up that our subconscious runs the show most of the time. (Watch this video if you’re at all interested). It’s thanks to it that we make quick decisions during times of crisis and emergency, and it’s thanks to both our conscious and subconscious mind that we create our own reality. Unfortunately, we are EXTREMELY UNAWARE OF THE PROGRAMMING IN OUR SUBCONSCIOUS MIND, so the reality that we observe is not exactly pretty, because we tend to create that which we fear the most. We keep repeating patterns over and over until we become aware of what’s going on (or we die and never become aware, too bad).   

In real life, the God that many people believe in certainly built the sandbox and left us to play in it and do whatever we want. That God or Source is HANDS-OFF for real, because we are made of the same energy, so we have creative power, too, whether we understand/believe it or not. The less aware we are, the more likely we are to believe THINGS HAPPEN TO US.

There’s always a villain outside of ourselves: our parents, our partners, our friends, our coworkers or classmates, our neighbors, that random person who stole from us or who said nasty things about us. We all have our own Leviathans, Michaels, Lucifers, and some villains in our life just as pathetic as Asmodeus or the British Men of Letters. The point is that when we are NOT aware of OUR OWN POWER OF CREATION, we are at the mercy of our subconscious, thinking that terrible things will continue to happen, over and over.

So, going back to Supernatural, Chuck came back in 14x20 with a special gun, and one of the names he gave to it was EQUALIZER. Seriously??!! Later in the ep, when Sam shot God with that gun, he shot himself. THAT’S SO SYMBOLIC I CAN’T EVEN! Don’t you see this? If we keep talking about Source of energy (instead of “god”) and understand that all beings are made of energy even if we have a material body, we get to understand the metaphor found in the Bible that states we should love God and we should love our neighbors as we love ourselves. WE ARE ALL ONE. I mean, I can plug two or three appliances into one same outlet and even though each appliance serves a different purpose, the energy that keeps them “alive” is the same.

We build an ego to create a false sense of self, but we’re all one. While we’re unaware of this, we think of God as that powerful being, outside of ourselves, who controls everything and we think that we’re at his mercy. We pray and we think that when things go well, God is blessing us, but when things go wrong, he’s punishing us or he has abandoned us. When truth be told, we have been creating our own reality ALL ALONG thanks to our stupid programming.

The Winchesters have been repeating the same mistakes over and over. Their programming is filled with “GOOD THINGS NEVER HAPPEN. I DON’T DESERVE GOOD THINGS”. That’s been the case for all of them. They have claimed that everything they’ve done has been out of love, to protect their family, but that’s just crap. The love they have felt has NEVER been healthy; it’s been rooted in the fear of loss. Mary made a deal because she couldn’t bear to lose John. John made a deal because he couldn’t lose Dean. Dean made a deal because he couldn’t lose Sam. And their codependent love brought all sorts of fucked-up consequences. Don’t even get me started on the way John raised his children as a result of not being able to accept the loss of his wife. Or don’t get me started on the programming running in Mary’s head as a result of the way she was raised in the hunting life. I mean, we could spend hours and hours discussing why Mary was desperate for a “normal life”, but probably thought that she didn’t deserve it; that she was being selfish for wanting happiness when the world needed saving. How ironic that her two sons inherited the same fears, the same subconscious programming!

So, NO… God is NOT the villain. THE VILLAIN HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE WINCHESTERS THEMSELVES. (Just as in our life, we are the main character and the villain in our own story). Thinking that God is the villain is the easy way out. That’s putting responsibility for the good and the bad outside of ourselves, and that’s bullshit. The toxicity has been part of Dean and Sam’s lives since forever and they need to be aware of it. They have always had a choice, but they were unable to make the healthiest one at the time. ‘Shoot first, ask questions later’, ‘Kill all the monsters’, ‘We do what we always do, we fight to bring our loved ones back’.

That’s not love. That’s not growth. And in writing, that’s not character development.

Next season, the Winchesters will try to fight God, of course. They will most likely try to kill him. But I can tell you now, one day after the season 14 finale, that they won’t be able to. What they will understand at the end of season 15 is that they always had a choice; that the Earth will never be completely saved because it doesn’t want to be saved (each person creates their own reality, so how can they save people who are unconsciously sabotaging/destroying themselves?). It’s NOT THEIR RESPONSIBILITY TO SAVE EVERYONE. IT NEVER HAS BEEN. That’s something they have taken upon themselves and it’s insane, unrealistic, and extremely arrogant of them.

Chuck himself had to show up to push the Winchesters enough to realize that they have been repeating patterns for a long time and that it’ll end when they decide it’s time to end. When they become aware of the toxic beliefs that took them to where they are now. When they realize that the only thing they need to get their happy ending is to admit they want that (not a blaze of glory style ending) and to stop being afraid of it or guilty about wanting it.

Good things do happen. What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved?

Chuck is just a mirror for the Winchesters. If our boys think that Chuck is the villain, then sooner or later they will realize how responsible they have been, too. I’ll be looking forward to season 15 and, most of all, to the series finale. For now, I’m gonna be in my corner, feeling confident that our boys will have the ending they deserve –the one they’ll get once they allow themselves to follow their heart.  

[thisiswhatwereupagainst]

@shattered-catalyst asked me what underused female Marvel characters that I’d like to see in the RPC. I misread it as asking what underused female characters I would like to see in a canon Marvel story, and started making this list. Then I realized what they ACTUALLY asked me---and answered it HERE-- but since I had this list started I thought I would post it! As a note, I tried to overlook my own biases for whom *I* simply want to see back in action, versus if there’s actually story potential there that I think other fans would genuinely want to see. It’s also by no means complete/comprehensive, so if you think someone is missing and deserves to be on here---you’re probably right! Feel free to add to it! BLINDSPOT - Blindspot is a female member of Mystique’s Brotherhood who was friends with Rogue, and had the powers of memory manipulation. After several missions, Mystique decided to cut ties with her due to lack of trust. Blindspot left, but not without wiping herself out of Mystique and Rogue's memories first, as she always covered her tracks, which is why Rogue doesn’t remember her (actual reason is she was retconned in, she’s a 2000s creation) Years later, when Rogue had become an X-Men, they would come into conflict once more, as Blindspot wanted to ‘save” Rogue from Xavier’s “brainwashing”, but Rogue would still leave Blindspot with her X-uniform to remember her by. Blindspot is unique in having been a Brotherhood friend to Rogue, as she was never shown as close to any of the other members, and was also mysteriously immune to Rogue’s powers. I think Rogue fans might enjoy seeing her in a Rogue story again, and perhaps learning more about their time together. CATSEYE - I think ALL the Hellions were criminally underused, and I know from X-Men/comics discussion boards that there’s an audience for their return. Catseye seems to be the favorite in terms of who people found most interesting, and I agree. A girl who believes she’s a cat who can turn into a human form, rather than the reverse, is a really neat concept, not to mention Sharon had a charming personality with surprising depth for what little time she got. There’s a lot that could be done with her return, and I think she could totally be the lead in a revived Hellions story on Krakoa, or a story depicting their time as Frost’s students at the Massachusetts Academy. CORDELIA FROST - Look, everyone loves Emma Frost, I think it’d be easy to get people interested in a Cordelia story. Not to mention the fact that like...Adrienne is dead, Christian was institutionalized, but Cordelia has been running around this whole time. She seems to have had some big plans once upon a time, what happened to that? Nothing ever came of it. Why not? What’s she been up to all this time? Also, we should finally get to see what kind of powers she has! I’ve seen it quoted around the Internet that Emma claims Cordy is “the Professor Xavier of empaths” but I’ve not only never seen the source for where she says this, she’s never demonstrated ANY kind of powers in canon, besides Emma not being able to read her mind. I would like to see what the “subtle, dark, and devious” Frost baby gets up to! DARKSTAR - Darkstar is a mutant and she’s been present in the comics since 1976. She’s been a member of X-Corps, as well as served in the Champions with Angel and Iceman back in the day. Yet her loyalty (coughBRAINWASHINGcough) has always brought her back to serving Mother Russia first and foremost. We saw recently though that Russia has gone back to its “All mutants serve the State or die!” position, and not allowing its mutants to go to Krakoa. It’s pretty easy to work Darkstar into a story about that, and finally exploring the way she was deeply conditioned to the point her “choice” to serve her country is probably anything but, and coming to terms with that at last. I’d really like to see a story like this, because Darkstar is kind of unique in that her brainwashing wasn’t a dramatic trauma-conga full of torture and abuse, she actually seems to have been treated well, she was just also kidnapped as a baby and never knew anything else. I think it’s about time we get a story that shows abuse doesn’t always “look like abuse” and how denial of someone’s agency can run so deep that their own choices that they THINK they’re making of their own free will, really are products of that. Also, her story could be an easy way to get my STARLIGHT fix, and FANTASMA on top of that. Remember, Fantasma was banished to Limbo, and pulled Starlight in after her. Why WOULDN’T Darkstar want to go rescue her teammate? And there’s a member of the X-Men who is mistress of Limbo and can open portals there, it’s totally easy! Darkstar enlists Magik (who has a huge fan following, and thus would get people interested) to guide her through Limbo so they can find Starlight and bring her home, but on the way they run afoul of Fantasma! Who, being a Dire Wraith sorceress, makes a great foe for Magik! PHANTAZIA - During 1990s, Toad struck out on his own and formed his own Brotherhood, which consisted of several old faces---Pyro, Blob, and Sauron (despite Sauron not being a mutant)---and a new one, the woman known as Phantazia, aka Eileen Harsaw. Phantazia had the power to manipulate electromagnetic energy fields. This allowed her to fly, disrupt machinery, and  disrupt the bioelectric energy fields and nervous systems of other living beings as well, resulting in pain, paralysis, loss of physical coordination, and in the case of superhumans, the inability to control their powers, causing them to fluctuate in strength, cease functioning altogether, or spew out uncontrollably. Not much is known about her personality, but she seems to have been well-educated, as Blob refers to her as “Ms. PhD” and tended to stay out of the arguments between her male teammates, ignoring them while she read books on scientific subjects, such as astrophysics. . She also displayed loyalty, such as when she also opted to stay with her teammates when only she among them was invited to Magneto’s new mutant sanctuary of Avalon. Alas, Eileen met a wicked fate---for some reason, she was one of the few mutants to retain their memories of the “House of M” reality shift, and the shifting back and forth drove her insane. She was last seen in a S.H.I.E.L.D. custody cell, babbling “House of M” over and over. I think Eileen was interesting. She had a cool powerset, hints of a personality, and was never much of a “bad guy” certainly not enough to deserve what happened to her. Female Brotherhood members are also pretty rare, so she catches my eye for that too. I like to think Xavier found her and fixed her mind, and she’s going to hang out with her old pals Pyro, Blob, and Toad on Krakoa. HAVEN - I’ve been yelling about her on this blog for like 5 years, but if you’re not familiar with her, Radha Dastoor aka Haven was a villain who ran a cult dedicated to bringing about the end of the world as we know it in order to usher in a golden age of peace. She only did this, however, because she was being possessed by a demon. Her real self was a kind, charitable woman who was just all about feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, and, as it happens, advocating for mutants. Though it had little to do with her villainy, Haven still found time to be a demon-posessed super-terrorist AND write books promoting mutant/human peace and give lectures condemning bigotry. She seems like someone who SHOULD have gotten saved from said demon, but no, she dies alone in the mud after being victim-blamed by a Marvel deity. Her entire arc is really misogynistic, she’s only possessed because she had sex once and then got pregnant, she’s basically punished for breaking the purity taboos of her culture once, and it’s also pretty...racist isn’t the right word, but she’s the first Indian and Hindu character in the X-Men comics, and a lot of her terrorist philosophy fed to her by the demon comes from actual Hinduism, which has unfortunate implications, as does the fact that the “brown woman with a funny religion ended up being a terrorist just like the government said so X-Factor attacking her before they were sure of this is okay” was part of her story. Eesh. Anyway, she was a very good person and an interesting character, I think bringing her back as someone trying to do good in the world again as a human ally to mutants while also dealing with what happened to her and what she did and her loss of 20 years of agency to possession, would be a good story. I at least want to see a cameo of her taking care of a bunch of orphan and refugee kids who are a mix of mutants, Inhumans, Warpies, aliens, and humans. LORELEI - Lorelei is another little-known woman from the Brotherhood of Mutants, and unique in that she’s NOT a mutant. At one point, Magneto used a machine to mutate members of the native tribes in the Savage Land, giving them super-powers. These Savage Land Mutates served him in their homeland, fighting the X-Men at his command, but he left them behind when he returned back to the rest of the world...all save Lorelei, who he took with him for his new Brotherhood, citing a possible “Pygmalion complex” for why. Lorelei was a beautiful blonde woman who could control men with her voice. However, she seems to have a childlike intellect, as she speaks very simply and in the third person, and doesn’t really seem aware of what she’s doing or why she’s being told by Magneto to do it. It’s a really worrying dynamic, and I also worry about Lorelei once Magneto just...kinda ditched her, I guess, and left her with Unus, Blob, and the Vanisher. Then she turns up back in the Savage Land serving yet another bad guy. Lorelei--or Lani Ubanu, as seems to be her name before Magneto transformed her--comes off as an unaware innocent that just gets constantly picked up and used by greater villains because she doesn’t know any better, and given that this is because of the powers Magneto gave her, I’d like to see that come back and have him take responsibility for her. And if she’s NOT as unaware and innocent as she seems, I’d like to see that, because she’s been around since 1969 and she doesn’t have a personality and she barely speaks! Flesh this girl out! MADELYNE PRYOR - I feel like this one is cheating a bit, because I’m not sure I’d say Maddy is under-used. She’s seen more action just this decade than all the others on this list saw in their entire careers COMBINED. It’s more than she’s just...not used well, in my opinion. 2000s writers generally seem to forget that her stint as the Goblyn Queen came from being infected by demonic energy and also insane (for VERY understandable reasons), and seem to think she’s just evil on her own. Not to mention they take all the depth out of her; she’s a character with a full personality of her own and some very fucked up struggles that she was not to blame for, but that all gets boiled down to “Scott’s sexy evil ex who is mad he left her so now she trounces around in skimpy clothes she never actually wore when she wasn’t possessed because EVIL LADIES ARE SEXY CUZ FEMALE SEXUALITY IS EVIL” and it’s just....u g h. When Maddy was herself, she actually was very heroic, to the point she sacrificed her life to save the world (her FIRST death, which everyone forgets). But she also has good reason to be really angry and bitter at the X-Men, and I don’t see her letting go of that even when she’s back in her right mind. So I think depicting her as an anti-hero, who saves innocent people yet works against the X-Men, would be a neat story, with the ultimate conclusion being her letting go of her grudge, not for THEIR sake but for HERS, to not have her be tethered to them any longer, not even by hate, and finally live a life that is HERS. MISS SINISTER - So, Miss Sinister is NOT Nathaniel Essex in a lady suit. She’s actually an entirely different person, and actually has a very sympathetic situation. She’s a woman named Claudine Renko, whom Mr. Sinister injected with a virus containing his own DNA. The idea was that in the event of his death, the virus would activate in her or one of his other test subjects, transforming them into Sinister complete with his consciousness replacing their own. But when it activated in Claudine after Sinister’s apparent (but in fact only temporary) death in the “Messiah Complex” story, Claudine did not become possessed by Mr. Sinister nor become him---not exactly. She became essentially a female clone of him, gaining aspects of his appearance (such as the chalk white skin) as well as his telepathic powers. He might also be how she got her wicked personality, but since we don’t know anything about her prior to this, that could just be how she was already. But she also suffered invasive memories of Essex's life, and that as a malignant presence within her mind, he was slowly killing her as a means of self-resurrection. He even managed to manifest briefly before being re-absorbed back into her. It was for this reason that she wanted to switch bodies with X-23, thus gaining Laura's healing factor, something she had wanted after her stabbing, and thereby freeing herself of Essex. The plan backfired when Essex took control of Laura's body and used her to mortally wound Claudine. Laura managed to overcome Essex's presence in her mind, expelling it through force of will. She was next seen working with Emma Frost on using The Mothervine, though Emma ended up turning on her. I remember feeling bad for Claudine when I read her story with X-23. Having someone else trying to take over your body is a pretty good motive for doing something as evil as trying to steal someone else’s, while also being inexcusable to do. It’s unlikely she was a willing subject for Sinister, so she probably isn’t to blame for what happened to her, but is to blame for her actions after, which is the kind of villain I like. Also, while she’s usually in lingerie ala a Black Queen of the Hellfire Club, she wore a really cute little normal outfit in a story with Sebastian Shaw and Daken...which ironically is when she actually was Black Queen! I’d like to see more of Claudine, and find out more about her story and who she was before all this, and whether or not she’s REALLY free of Sinister, as she seems to be now. After all...is anyone ever free of him? Bonus if she teams up with Madelyne Pryor! NOCTURNE - No not TJ Wagner, THIS LADY! I don’t think anyone (except me) is hoping for her return, as I don’t think anyone else really knows about her, but Spider-Man stuff is still popular so there’s no reason she couldn’t come back and have a prominent role in that. I really hope they go with the interpretation that she’s gay, since now is a time that they can actually have that open instead of coded, but more than just the representation of a gay WOC (which is awesome) I really am interested in her adjustment and journey into her new identity, and in particular her communication via empathy powers rather than speech. That really intrigues me about her. I think she could become very compelling and popular if brought back and handled well, perhaps in a story that brings back other neglected characters in the Spider franchise as well. SAT-YR-9 - Okay, so in the Captain Britain/Excalibur comics of the 80s, there was a woman named Courtney Ross. She was a banker and Captain Britain’s ex, and she became a side character, having adventures with the team and even besting none other than ARCADE through STAND UP COMEDY. Then one night, a version of her from another universe emerged in apartment, killed her, and took her place. This evil counterpart was Sat-Yr-9, who had been a cruel dictator in homeworld, and has been running around doing evil in 616 since while masquerading as Courtney. Captain Britain discovered the ruse and vowed revenge...but has yet to really do anything, probably because Sat-Yr-9 herself really hasn’t done anything since either. She popped up for a brief moment in the 2000s as the new White Queen of the Hellfire Club, but that’s it. I would like to see more of her, in that role or outside it. Given her connection to both the Hellfire Club and to Kitty (whom she was grooming under the guise of “Courtney Ross” and seemed to have big plans for, as well as some mysterious connection to that was never explained) I think she’d be great for the Marauders series. Or in the new “Excalibur” series that stars Psylocke as the new Captain Britain! I also think there would be interest in a story that finally resolves her murder of Courtney and shows Brian finally at least TRYING to make her pay, I still see it talked about on Marvel boards how unsatisfying and frustrating it is that Brian vowed revenge DECADES ago and has yet to do anything about it, and how much of a waste that makes Courtney’s death (Courtney was surprisingly popular with fans even to this day due to how she handled Arcade, it instantly endeared them to her...and then that’s RIGHT when she got killed off, literally the evening after) Maybe Betsy is the one who finally gets her at last! THRENODY - I think that Threnody’s coming back in the recent Deadpool series revived enough interest to justify bring her back yet again, and I think her baby being killed, however monstrous it was, means that fans are probably ready to see her get a happy ending for once. I know I sure am. ZALADANE - Zaladane was a personal villain to Polaris, and given that Polaris has never really had a book that was about her (as far as I know, I’m far from a Lorna expert) I think bringing her back as the bad guy for a Lorna solo series would be cool. I also would like it resolved if she’s Lorna’s sister or not. It seems to add up at the time it was written, but changes to Lorna’s backstory continuity since make it impossible. I think that a suitably comic-booky explanation could work for that, such as “she *is* Lorna’s sister but from another dimension, not 616, and also that explains how/why she’s in the Savage Land” or something like that. Plus it satisfies both the people who think she is and who think she isn’t.

[plaguedparadox]

Anything You Want - Chapter Seven

The Lover

Hissing slipped through me as I pulled myself over to the edge of my usually comfortable bed, and I’m sure it was comfortable as always but I couldn’t feel it with the numbing in my lower half, burning sensation and the overall feeling of being roughly and thoroughly fucked. A giggle fell out of my lips as arms wrapped around my waist and soft lips gently pecked their way up my neck. His name was practically ingrained into my brain after I spent the night saying it like it was a prayer, but it left my mouth so naturally as I called out to the man who looked up at me from my shoulder with half lidded eyes and a lazy but proud smile curling his lips.

“Sleep well, my love~?” Daemon purred out in his usual tone, his beard gently tickled against my skin, helping bring home the reality of it all. I had slept with Daemon, my bizarre roommate who is now my boss. Tired words left me and I wasn’t quite sure what I said but apparently it was enough to warrant the man in my bed pulling me into a blistering hot kiss, waking me up almost instantly as my hands found their way to his hair. A grin on my lips as we hastily slipped into another round of a wonderful time.

Eventually, I found myself making my way to the bathroom, Arthur’s old top now back on me. I was glad that he never asked about the guys stuff I owned, but then again he probably just assumed that I was into a lot of that stuff and considering my gaming hobby, I could see why he’d assume that. I doubt I was ready to talk about my most likely dead first love, I hadn’t even grieved the loss properly but it was nice to know that my heart was finally moving on and someone that clearly was going to treat me right or at the very least, I hoped he would. I shook my head, stopping myself from focusing on the past and instead began to focus on the present. My sore body.

Pleasantly sore, that’s how I’d describe my body felt at that moment, the aches and burning didn’t bother me as I used the sink to hold my body up. The mirror reflected a me that looked as if I’d finally gotten a decent night’s sleep, my skin had a nice glow to it despite the red marks and purple bruises that littered my neck. With a curious tug, I pulled down the edge of the top down to reveal the initial bite mark, it seemed to have darkened, it now almost flat to the skin as a bruise took over but you could still see where each tooth sank in. My fingers gently ran over the bite mark, a moan slipping out of my lips as my sensitive skin seemed to send a jolt through me. I was going to have a harder time covering my neck for work since he aimed to cover it with marks. I let out a sigh and decided to do my morning routine.

Only after drying off and changing back into the comfortable top that I remembered about the cake that I had left out on the side. My feet slid across the floor as I rushed to rescue the baked good that was drying out only to skid to a halt as I watched the very naked man that I live with decorate said baked good. Crimson painted cheeks were a shared trait at that moment as he caught sight of me but his embarrassment quickly disappeared as he sent a half lidded grin my way, beckoning me over. Once I was by his side, he gave me a peck on the lips before joking that he saved the cake and that we were going to have it for breakfast.

I knew that Daemon had a ton of money but I didn’t expect him to buy and get the brand new car delivered so shortly after we had woken up. We had just got changed and left the building and we had spent most of our spare time kissing or eating cake. I looked between him and the car which was a black Tesla, at this point I think he’s just trying to show off. I look up at him once more as he looks down at me, a smile on his lips as if he’s waiting for me to say something about the expensive car. After a few blinks, I just turned and began to walk my usual journey to work. If I didn’t want my boss to drive me home, I certainly didn’t want him to drive me to work even if we did sleep together.

Having sex doesn’t mean he wants to be with you romantically. He’ll find someone else now that he’s satisfied. The cynical part of me chirped in, dampening my once good mood. Arthur left. SHE left. He’ll leave too. It sang out, making me silently plead with it to shut up as I reminded myself that I was the one that cut ties with my friend. I didn’t want her thinking I was crazy if I brought up that a monster attacked me in her apartment. I shook my head and practically ran to work, tripping slightly every now and again as I had chosen to wear a skirt and heels.

It took until the lunch break for me to feel better again, as I watched Thomas and Nate sing and dance around, their food long forgotten on the table. Tyler and I were talking, sharing about the struggles of the different departments, the angers of having to fix the mistakes of other people and just the typical complaining of office work. The area used for lunch was filled with talking as plenty of people preferred to each lunch outside than the alternative. Cubicles weren’t exactly friendship and conversation friendly.

Tyler was joking about something before his voice slowly faded into silence as I felt someone sit right next to me, our legs brushing together and their arm discreetly going around my waist. I didn’t need to look at him to know it was Daemon, no one else had such a distinct and expensive smelling cologne. I heard him greet Tyler before introducing himself, acting as if he gave a damn which was already much more different than our previous boss. Nate and Thomas were quick to make their way over once they realised the situation. Daemon introduced himself to them, his leg purposely brushing against mine as he gently pulled me closer.

The boys tried to have a conversation with their new boss, asking questions ranging from his age, his previous profession and to questions like if he was married. Daemon showed them a graceful smile, a seemingly wistful and dreaming look painted in his eyes. “I’m not married, no. I’m currently trying to pursue a relationship with my roommate though but I fear she’s worried about my intention.” Was his answer, his fingers gently digging into my side as if he was trying to give me the classic comfort squeeze but the fact we were being watched meant he couldn’t make it obvious. A gently flush covered my cheeks as our eyes met, even for just a moment.

The questions seemed to remain fairly innocent until Nate asked: “What happened to your secretary? She didn’t come in today and she’s known for coming in insanely early, and she hasn’t called in.” He always liked keeping an eye on other coworkers even if it wasn’t his job. Nate’s words ripped through the once happy atmosphere as if it was nothing but a thin sheet of tissue paper that was being cut with a overly sharpened blade. From comfortable to uncomfortable in a few simple seconds. My eyes flickered over to look up at Daemon, his lips in a thin line while his eyes became cold and harsh, for a moment I thought I was looking at a complete stranger and not the man I had known for a year and made love with just last night. I chirp in, suggesting something must have come up, recalling a time that another coworker had Nate worried that they hadn’t come in or called in and it turned out that they had broken their leg in an accident, their phone breaking at the same time which left them with nothing to contact the office.

Attention was now on me as I told the story, concluding it quickly enough while reiterating my point. A proud look on Daemon’s face while there was a oddly betrayed look on Nate’s, I sent my friend a hurt look back before turning my attention to the boss as he cleared his throat. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. I found her behaviour around me to be inappropriate, especially in a work environment, so I told her to stay at home today as her services are no longer needed.” Inappropriate? What does that make our ‘relationship’ then? I should be fired too. Of course I could actually say any of that, but I wanted too. He could have just made her work in the offices. Tyler seemed to think the same way as he brought it up. “I could have sent her to work in a different department but nothing guaranteed that she wouldn’t simply just come into my office to harass me. This was the simple solution to any problem that could occur.”

Something felt wrong about the answer but none of us could work it out, not even after he left and we began to discuss it. Was it the tone? The words used? The fact he was clearly angry with the questions? The boys slowly but surely started to come up with their own theories. Ranging from very plausible to dark but that was the case for most conspiracy theories. I elected to stay optimistic and it simply being like Daemon had said, he didn’t like her advances so he told her not to come back in. I had mentioned what I witnessed her doing when I was called up there and that seemed to fuel their theorising fire which made me grateful that a fellow coworker by the name of Mat hadn’t overheard us. He’d probably say something more outlandish than the theories the boys came up with.

Thomas was the most grounded as he liked to be optimistic as well, bringing up that he could have possibly just wanted to change the secretary, preferring to hiring his own rather than dealing with the one the old boss had left behind. Turns out he had heard some gossip that the married old boss was having an affair with the now missing secretary and gave his job position away because his wife was forcing him to move out of state, which did add some credit to his theory. Daemon could have known that once he was given the position by the board. The gossip also gave credit to Tyler’s theory.

Tyler’s theory hurt my heart and practically made me panic at how plausible it was, he believed that Daemon fired the secretary so they should have sex and it wouldn’t be a problem if the board found out and he seemed angry because he still wanted it kept quiet. The fact that the secretary apparently had a thing for the previous boss, fueled this theory as it could show that she had a type for people with power and being a wannabe socialite that we knew her to be, it did make sense that she’d quickly forget her ‘feelings’ for the previous boss and practically try and jump the new boss’s bones to show him her worth in other areas outside of work. A part of me did feel a tad smug knowing that I had him in bed before her but that was a small, petty side of me that I didn’t want to give away to.

Nate went for the darker route, where Daemon actually killed her and he’s angry that someone is questioning him about his victim, the other two jokingly joined in with their own cliche lines about why he would of decided to kill someone who he seemed to have barely even known - Thomas joking about that being the reason, Tyler commenting about his anger once again probably being the reason while Nate went for the classic sexual gratification. And unfortunately, it did make sense to me that it could happen. Daemon did mention that her actions would put her in danger and the odd sounds I heard in the parking lot came to mind, as well as the fact Dae’s old car smelled horrendous after the sounds occurred but I didn’t mention those things. I didn’t want to explain that I had been living with the boss.

Out of the three, I personally subscribed to Thomas’s theory as I couldn’t see my roommate as a murderer and I couldn’t bare the thought of him wanting someone else no matter how selfish it may seem. I just didn’t want to lose him in any way.

Soon lunch was over and the daily grind hit us once again. Thomas seemed to be flooded with work while I barely had any once again. It didn’t take a genius to work out that a higher up was meddling with things so I didn’t need to work and exhaust myself but I wasn’t going to let him shift that exhaustion over to Thomas. With a kind smile I ask Thomas to send me half of his work load and we spent the rest of the work day as a team to get everything done so he wouldn’t have to worry about overtime. It was about half an hour before we were set to leave for the day when I got a message from Daemon saying that he wanted me to meet him by his car in the parking lot when it was time for me to leave, I sent him an ‘okay’ before finishing up on the last of my half of the shared load, sending it back to Thomas so he could organise it the way he would.

Luckily, nothing creepy happened this time as I made my way through the parking lot so I could focus on finding and chatting with Daemon who was happy to show his expensive toy off, as if it was going to impress me. “Your friends are something else…” Daemon muttered as we walked through the door to our apartment, I started to slip my coat off only for him to help me and hang it up. I ask him what he means by that as I slip my heels off, my poor feet crying in relief once they were off. “I mean I’m not used to such calm and happy people, most people I’ve dealt with at work are cranky and look like they’re going to kill someone.” Explains you. Dae sends me a smile. “That’s why I like coming home to you.” I raised an eyebrow as he made his way over, his hands automatically taking their place on my hips. “The woman I love.” Cue the insane blushing and giggling. I squeak out a response just a moment before his lips pressed against mine, tingles flying across my body as our kiss quickly deepened.

Pulling away for oxygen was difficult as his insistent lips kept capturing mine with each attempt, it felt as if he was scared to stop kissing me. When I did pull away, I rested my head against his chest, that familiar purring sound following soon after. I flashed him a grin as I felt his hands run through my hair but it just as quickly left my face as I noticed the far off look in his eyes. “Everything alright?” I ask softly, he nodded distractedly in reply and began to lower his lips towards mine before I placed my hand up, blocking his advances. “Not so fast, Romeo. What’s up?” He tried to say nothing was wrong but I told him that I was being serious and practically forced him to sit down on the couch. I asked him once more before he gave in and answered.

“Wilford wants to meet the woman who has captured my attention for over a year now. I’m worried because he’s extremely eccentric and a known womaniser and I fear, despite his wife calming that side of him down that a beautiful woman like yourself would just make him relapse.” Daemon admitted, grabbing me and pulling me onto his lap, his nose gently brushing against my cheek as if he was asking permission to get close to me. With a nuzzle of my nose against his, I let him know that I wasn’t going to let Wilford steal me away, I loved him and not a man I never met. A pleased growl slipped through his lips and with a quick yank, he pulled me under him. “Good, because otherwise I’d have to lock you in my room with me until I was your favourite again~” With a purr, his lips began to attack my neck, teeth running over that bite mark and sinking in once again, sending jolts of what felt like electricity coursing through my veins.

Knock, knock, knock! Went the door which quickly received death glares from the man in front of me. A giggle slipped out of me as I made my way to the door, pulling it open to greet whoever was there only to pause as I noticed the pastel colours the man wore and the bright pink curled moustache on his top lip but what I really noticed was the heavily pregnant woman that I didn’t expect to see anytime soon as I had basically cut contact with so I didn’t break down in front of her. I was frozen in place as a sad smile raised on her face.

“Hey… best friend…”

[hopeishappinessff]

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 49

Chris

Bliss is an innate state of inner joy.

It is constant, undisturbed by outward gain or loss.

We all have the capacity for it, no matter our age, background, physical or mental disabilities, ethnicity, gender, or religion. External circumstances, whether positive or negative, happy or sad, do not affect it.

Bliss is where happiness, meaning, and truth converge.

I was in a room with Hope. She was lying on a narrow bed with some clear jelly that she said was cold on her exposed belly. There was a black lady smiling and pressing a little nob against her skin and they were both facing a small screen. And on that screen… was my daughter, healthy heartbeat and all. She was agitated because the lady kept pressing the nob thing right against her as she tried to sleep, because that’s literally all she did all day. She lazed around in there and waited ‘til night to make her mom uncomfortable and keep her awake ‘til the wee hours of the morning. But now, she was up and wiggling around and upset… she had so much personality already.

I grinned like a complete idiot from my corner in the small room. No, this wasn’t a dream or some made up memory from my insane mind… this was a reality that I never thought I would be a part of. I didn’t get to experience this with Jaylen and I didn’t think I would make it to experience it now. But I was here, and I was smiling, because I was happy… the happiest I had ever been in my entire life.

Two days after she’d returned home to me after her finals at school in Georgia, Hope asked me if I would accompany her to her first doctor’s appointment with her new doctor… the lady that would be delivering our baby. For whatever reason, I was nervous. Sure I’d been in and out of hospitals a few times in my life, but that still didn’t mean I was much of a fan of the place. I was more afraid of this visit because the last time I’d spoken to a doctor in regards to Hope being pregnant, they told me that she’d had a miscarriage. I would never tell her this of course, but any doctor that had to do with a baby made me cringe.

“Baby girl looks beautiful. You and her both are doing wonderfully and I really couldn’t be more pleased with your progress.” The doctor, who kind of reminded me of Dr. Yates, said.

Bliss cannot be attained, really. The soul simply realizes that bliss simply… is

I could recognize it… I was in bliss. My mom told me once that she explained to Hope that I had an obvious purpose on this earth and that was to love her with everything in me and love my children even more. She was right. This was my calling. I wanted to cry because I’d never felt an ongoing surge of bliss the way I felt it sitting there across from the love of my life as she stared at a 3D image of my first daughter. I saw this girl, this woman, in a way I’d never seen her before. She was carrying my child… that made her the most beautiful woman in the world to me.

God, I was getting too caught up in my emotions. I didn’t even realize the doctor was standing in front of me with a stack of printed pictures of my daughter in my face.

“Chris…” I heard Hope’s voice and blinked myself back into reality and only then did I notice the small glossy pictures in my face.

The doctor chuckled and shook her head “Daddy’s getting all caught up in the moment over here. Here, these are for you sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” I muttered, glancing up at her, almost too embarrassed to look her right in the eye.

She laughed and turned back to face Hope with her hands on her hips “Isn’t he just the cutest? I’ve seen countless excited dad’s, but in all my twenty-five years I don’t think I’ve ever seen that spark that I see in his eyes. This little girl is gonna be spoiled, I can tell.”

My heart swelled at the sound of that and my cheeks warmed up as I smiled. I could feel Hope looking at me and when I glanced at her, she too wore a smile.

“Well I’ll give you some time to get all situated. Did you have any questions for me?”

“No Dr. Zeeta, you’ve been so kind and helpful. I’m just really thankful I got transferred to you.” Hope said. I looked from her to the doctor… Dr. Zeeta Johnson, or just Dr. Zeeta as she preferred. I could tell Hope and baby girl would be in good hands with her. There was just something so pleasant and gracious about her that made me feel safe knowing two of my most prized possessions would be cared for by her.

“And I’m thankful to have you here honey. Your aunt hasn’t stopped talking about you two, so really, I’ve been very excited to meet you. I’m going to take good care of you and your little blessing, I can certainly promise you that.” She smiled encouragingly before turning to exit the room. Once she shut the door, my gaze shifted to Hope who was now lying there, staring at a 3D sienna colored ultrasound picture that Dr. Zeeta had given her.

“Are you completely happy with this decision?” Her voice was soft and mild, gentle enough to have me staring at her almost in a daze. But, I was thrown off by her question…

“What?”

“We’re having a baby in less than two months. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted?” Her face looked so pleasant and surprisingly, she didn’t even look like she was gonna cry… which I was expecting, based on the questions she’d just asked and the tone of her voice.

My brows furrowed and I sighed… I didn’t even know if I was really supposed to answer that or not… I didn’t know if she was really serious.

“I’m happy.”

“Is this what you wanted?” She repeated, this time smiling. I nodded as I stood and slowly made my way closer to her. Her left hand extended in search of mine and when I gripped hers, she pulled me even closer and planted my hand flat against her still exposed belly.

“Yes, I’m happy… and this is what I wanted.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hope, I…” She was truly leaving me at a loss for words because I didn’t understand where this was coming from, “I want this more than anything in life… you know that.”

Her smile spread even wider and I stared at her perfectly straight, white teeth as they nibbled into the center of her bottom lip “I know… I just really like to hear you say it, the way you do.”

“What do you mean?” I chuckled.

Her silly grin remained as she slowly guided my hand around the smooth surface of her belly “I don’t know… I just like to hear you talk. Everything you say sounds so… good.”

I was blushing big time and thought my face would either permanently turn red or I would just pass out. I wasn’t even completely sure how to respond to that, so I just stood there smirking as she slid her hand up my arm and used it to pull herself up.

“Can I have a kiss?” My heart froze, or sped up, hell I wasn’t even really sure because before I knew it she was tugging me down to her and her cozy lips were pressed sweetly against mine. This girl was gonna be the death of me!

--

Hope said she wanted chicken fries and a vanilla milk shake from Burger King and French fries from McDonald’s, so that’s where we went after her appointment. I think I was more excited than anyone could ever understand to cater to her during her pregnancy. Call me weird, but I’d always envisioned this very moment… me pulling up to the window at a drive-thru, collecting whatever she craved from the menu all because she was carrying my child. Whatever she said she wanted, I’d go to the ends of the earth and beyond to get it just to see her happy… because that’s exactly what made me happy.

I sat with her now on the couch in her aunt’s den. Her feet were propped up in my lap and she stretched comfortably along the length of it with her back propped against a few pillows and her variety of food items, which included a chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookie from McDonald’s, laid out on pillow. I ordered food for myself and simply propped it up on the thick arm of the couch because I wouldn’t dare have her move her feet… I was the one who conned her into resting them in my lap in the first place.

We ate together in a comfortable silence with the action-packed sounds of Captain America: Civil War playing in the background. And this was completely ideal for me… home with her, watching movies and pigging out, because that’s what she wanted to do.

“Hey, baby daddy…” I turned to face her and nearly choked with laughter at the silly grin plastered on her face, “I just love how that sounds.”

“You’re so silly.” I chuckled, quickly swallowing down a mouthful of food.

“You never told me how your birthday was.” She blurted randomly.

“It was alright.”

“Did you do anything special?”

Thinking back to that day, my twentieth birthday, a regular Friday for me because I wasn’t too keen on making a big deal of it, I smirked at the thought.

“Not really. Just dinner that my mom insisted on dragging me to. Tootie was there, and your aunt, and the crew… and Mrs. Jimenez brought Jaylen.”

“Well that’s good…”

She didn’t say anything after that and I quickly turned to face her. The expression on her face looked so… distraught. Like she was stuck somewhere between confused and upset and that worried me.

“Hey, did I say something wrong?” I asked, biting into my bottom lip nervously as my heart raced unnecessarily.

She shook her head and sighed, glancing over at me with that same twisted expression “Sorry to change the subject, but… I kinda wanted to talk to you about that.”

My brows furrowed with confusion and I stared at her, waiting to hear what it was she wanted to talk about.

“That whole thing with Gabby… I don’t know, I don’t want to make a big deal of it. It’s just that the last time we talked about her, I could tell you were pretty upset about the whole situation. And… it upset me to know that you were upset.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset…” “No,” She said, quickly shaking her head, “You didn’t upset me… she upset me. The whole thing upset me, not you Charlie. I didn’t like the thought of her attacking you the way she did. And I don’t like the thought of her thinking it’s okay to speak to you that way or just loosely toss threats at you whenever she wants. That wasn’t right and… if you don’t mind, I would really like to speak to her about that.”

“I… I don’t know if that would be a good idea Hope…”

“I just want to talk to her Chris. Obviously, me and you are in this for the long run and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon… I feel like it’s kind of my duty to protect you, just as much as you’ve always been there to protect me.”

I stared at her, perhaps too long and too hard because she eventually sighed and turned to face the TV. I didn’t understand, why I guess… why she felt the need to protect me. I mean, I knew I was nothing special, but clearly she didn’t and I didn’t want her going through any trouble for me because I honestly didn’t even feel like I was worth it.

“I just don’t get why you’d want to protect me. I’m not worth that effort Hope.” I muttered pitifully and finally dropped my gaze down to my lap.

I could feel her eyes on me now and I heard her soft grunt as she carefully shifted herself around on the couch to get closer to me. I didn’t bother to face her, even when I felt her petite hand slither up along the back of my neck.

“You don’t mean that… you can’t. You are worth more than the last breath in my body Chris… look at me.”

I didn’t look at her because I couldn’t look at her because I suddenly felt way too depressed. Her nails grazed along the skin of my neck and up into my hair, then I felt her right hand tickling my chin and she gently turned my head so I had no choice but to face her. But I refused to open my eyes… I refused to let her see the emotional pot she was stirring within me.

“Look at me…”

I shook my head slowly, feeling myself slipping further into my dark pit of despair. God, I hated these illnesses… I hated how much they controlled my life now and how fast they could send me spiraling in one emotional direction or another. It’d never been this way before. I’d only recently been diagnosed, but my illnesses had obviously been with me most of my life… so why was I now suddenly getting so caught in my feelings all the damn time?

“I’m not a good dad Hope,” I whispered, eyes still closed like a little boy hiding from his worst fears, “I’m not worth it.”

I felt it then, one of my biggest fears and insecurities that I’d only recently discovered in the last year… she dropped her right hand down to my left wrist and lifted it right up to her face. My eyes shot open and I quickly sniffled, because I felt the heated tears ready to force their way out at any second. My lips were parted and I could feel my chest heaving with desperation, but I was completely frozen in time… unable to do nothing more than sit there and watch her.

She held my wrist delicately in her hand, close to her mouth so that I could feel the warmth of her breath tickling my damaged skin. In almost slow motion, she leaned in closer and pressed her soft, sweet lips against my skin. She pecked it over and over, her lips dancing over the ugly ridges that were still clear as day through my tattoos.

“You are worth it…” She whispered and pecked, “You are a phenomenal man, an extraordinary father, and you are worth it.”

For the first time since I’d left the marks there because I didn’t think I was worth it and I didn’t think I deserved my life, I felt… worthy. In the eyes of the one person in the entire universe I cared most about, I was worthy. I meant something to someone, and it was her… I meant something to Hope. It hit me like a freight train just how selfish I’d been to come so close to an unnecessary death and I felt a wave of regret and nausea.

Easing my arm out of her grasp, I shifted my hand up to her cheek and down to the cusp of her neck and jaw, the same way she loved to hold me… the same way I loved for her to hold me. Gently tilting her head forward, I leaned a bit closer to her and pressed my lips against her forehead.

“Tell me again.” I muttered,

“You are worth it Charlie… you’re a beautiful man, you’re my beautiful man, and you are worth it.”

I smiled… shut my eyes and grinned then told her not to stop. It was like pure sizzling gold pouring from her lips. It was the injection of life that I needed to survive. She was meant for me and I for her… because she believed I was worth it.

[xreaderfic-land]

Uphill Battles Jason Todd (Red Hood) X Reader

Word Count: 2,287

Warnings: Language

----    ----    -----    -----

Rain tapped against the window filling the silence that stretched between them. Both wanted to break the fragile silence, but neither was rushing to do so, both unsure of exactly what to say. 

Y/N sat on the bed and stared at the floor as her emotions swelled and quieted like an ocean’s waves. Tears continued to burn the back of her throat threatening to blur her vision more than it already was the longer she sat there.

Bittersweet memories replayed in her mind, reminding her again and again why her choice to stay was only hurting her.

A clock in the distance ticked away, it’s sound seemingly too loud but proving a point all the same. Y/N bit her lip until she tasted blood as her chest tightened painfully. As each heartbeat passed the abyss that separated Y/N from Jason seemed to only widen, filling up with everything they didn’t say or do

Y/N closed her eyes inhaling shakily before her body moved, not allowing her to hesitate or rethink her actions. Rising off the bed Y/N reopened her eyes to lock with the door; looking at Jason would weaken if not break her resolve.

As Y/N’s hand wrapped around the door knob and she pulled it open a sliver Jason’s low, almost cautious voice shattered the quiet.

“Where are you going?”

Y/N was sure her tears would have brimmed over if her body hadn’t suddenly gone so numb, but it had. Y/N felt an emptiness taking over her entire body; she knew the pain would come soon and she’d break apart, but she couldn’t here.

Not in front of him.

Y/N knew Jason would either try to soothe her or leave her to her own devices until she reclaimed her stability; that’s how he was. A man unsure of how to process emotion or properly convey it, which considering their current situation was a big deal, but that was Jason Todd.

Y/N sighed heavily, she was emotionally and mentally spent. Never turning from the doorway Y/N only cut Jason a glance over her shoulder; green eyes filled with such dejection Jason had to force his expression to remain blank.

Jason was good at that, pretending to not care and keep people at arm’s length. It was a defense mechanism he’d picked up to keep people from getting too close, not wanting to feel loss or pain ever again. After he’d come back to life he’d felt like everyone had abandoned him.

Jason was all too aware that getting too close or showing too much emotion could lead down a road that was shrouded in obscurity. He craved human interaction like a bad drug but hesitated to except it, almost like a recovering addict would their favorite fix.

Y/N also happened to be the hardest person to ignore and therefore made overlooking his craving even more challenging. Y/N was everything he wanted but everything that scared him all at once. She was wrapped in a beautiful body that he had every inch of locked to memory. He cared about Y/N more than he knew how to express and that’s the only reason he’d spoken.

He didn’t want to see her leave, yet at the same time he wondered if it were better…for her at least.

Jason rooted himself against the wall to make space between them, but honestly it was to keep himself from touching her. Jason never knew how to say what he felt other than to physically try to convey it to her.

Jason had felt his stomach fill with dread when Y/N walked to the door. Seeing her in such pain killed him yet Jason didn’t have any idea how to voice his internal turmoil.

 “I can’t do this anymore, Jason.” Y/N’s voice sounded as drained as she looked, exhaustion riddling her.

 Jason’s lips downturned slightly, the action unseen as Y/N tuned to rest her forehead against the door.

 “Do what?” Jason’s voice faltered.

 Jason tried to hide his flickering moment of desperation, he didn’t want to her to leave.Y/N cut oddly hard eyes to Jason before they softened as sadness became raw in them once more.

 “I can’t keep loving you Jason.” Y/N’s words shook with unshed tears as they tainted the air. “I can’t keep loving someone that will never love me back, but I do. I love you more than I can stand it and I know it’s not healthy. I know it’s not sane, but I do and that’s why I have to leave. I’ve tried, I really have but I know you will never change.”

 Y/N laughed weakly, “I won’t beg you to love me because then it wouldn’t be real love. I mean, I know everyone says people change but it’s a lie. People don’t change; the only change that happens is the reality of who that person is coming to the surface. I won’t make this any bigger than it already is, I’ll just leave and you won’t have to deal with me ever again.”

 Y/N opened the door more widely, “Good-“

 “I don’t want you to leave Y/N-“

 “Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare.” Y/N whipped around tears running down her cheeks as she pointed at him.

 Jason held his blank mask in place even as it shook to fall away. Y/E/C clashed against blue-green as the two searched each other’s gazes.

 Y/N’s voice came out defeated and low, “Just…don’t Jason. Don’t pretend-“

 “I am not pretending.” Jason’s voice became out almost feral, “I told you from-no, you knew, from the very beginning that I had no idea how to be in a relationship. I can’t express my feelings to you because…”

 “Because of what Jason? What is it that has you, so tongue tied?”

 Jason felt his control slipping and the words came out before he could even stop himself, “Because you’ll be the death of me!”

 Y/N’s eyes widened visibly her mouth opening with no words coming out.

 Jason cut his eyes away from her, “I can’t stand the idea of watching you leave but at the same time I know it’d more than likely be better for you.” Jason pushed a frustrated hand through his hair, “I can’t give you flowers and hearts, because I don’t know how Y/N.”

With those last words it felt like their sudden outbursts had never happened as the room echoed with quiet once more.

 It was like running in circles when they argued, the familiar silences and bouts of emotion were so reoccurring you could map out exactly what would happen. Though, this was the first time Y/N had been able to crack past Jason’s hard walls enough to peek inside at the man she’d fallen in love with.

 “I never asked for hearts and flowers Jason I just wanted you, for once in your life, to be honest with me.”

“I’ve never lied to you,” Jason gripped his little ounce of remaining bravery and looked into Y/E/C eyes.

 Y/N sighed, “No, but you never were completely honest with me either.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason hissed.

 Y/N inhaled shakily, “I am going to ask you something just once and your response depends very much on the outcome of me leaving or dipping further into insanity for you.”

 Jason’s frame went rigid.

 “Did you ever, or do you even care about me?”

 Jason stared into eerily steady Y/E/C eyes. Y/N and Jason lost track of time as they stood there in epic silence before Y/N forced herself to except his reply, or lack thereof.

Turning painfully to the door once more Y/N’s foot hovered out the doorway freezing in midair at Jason’s whispered words.

 “I don’t care about you Y/N-“

 Y/N whipped back into the room with such speed Jason didn’t realize it until his head snapped sideways.

The slap echoed off the walls in the apartment like thunder as Y/N’s hand floated in the air as Jason’s head was snapped to the side, his expression full of surprise.

Y/N’s chest heaved as she slowly registered the sting in her hand before hot tears and screams filled the air.

 “You self-centered fucking prick! Five fucking years I gave to you! Five Jason! I never asked for anything and you stand there like some fucking asshole that hides behind a mask out of fear!” Y/N pointed a finger “You are a coward-“

 Jason’s head snapped around just as fast as it’d been knocked sideways, blue-green eyes so filled with anger Y/N’s words skid to a stop. Stepping forward Jason barely registered himself attempting to stop Y/N from retreating on instinct.

 Y/N backed up until her knees hit the bedside making her fall back onto the soft mattress with Jason never hesitating to crowd her personal space. Leaning forward Jason firmly but not painfully pinned down Y/N’s wrists as his heated eyes glared down into her defiant Y/E/C ones.

 Swallowing Jason did his best to not let his voice shake.

 “Let’s get a few things straightened out. First, I know very damn well how long we’ve been together Y/N and I know that you’ve done a lot for me or rather us. Secondly, I am not a fucking coward. You know full well that to be a damned lie when you, for a moment, consider why I am so against getting close to you or anyone for that damn matter. I have lost so much Y/N and the idea that after years of being cautious of letting people get too close you danced into my life stripping me bare at your feet.”

 Jason inhaled shakily, “Five years and you are the closet I’ve ever let anyone and that scares the fucking shit out of me. Knowing that at any second you could walk out without so much as a glance back kills me because I’d have to lose someone again.”

 Jason’s eyes slid shut, “I know you’ve stretched yourself to the breaking point when it comes to patience with me, I know that better than you are aware and I don’t blame you if you still left after this. But let it be known Y/N this is who I am, I don’t want you to leave me but I have no reason to make you stay either. I never just cared about you Y/N, I love you like I loved my family and that has me scared out of my fucking mind.”

 Y/N to stared at the raw pain etching Jason’s face as he hovered over her. Slowly Jason drug in a shaky breath as he forced himself to release Y/N and slid into a standing position once more.

Y/N stared at Jason’s rigid body with wide eyes, her brain still trying to process his words. Jason moved himself back against his former position at the wall with eyes downcast.

Crossing his arms across his chest to somehow ground himself to the room he waited for Y/N to get up and leave. He tried to mentally prepare himself to watch Y/N rip his heart out and walk out with it in her carry-on bag. Jason had finally slammed into a wall and had bared his soul to Y/N as a last-ditch effort to give himself closure.

 Jason heard the bed sheets shuffle, but his eyes were glued to the floor, Y/N had the ball fully in her court.

 “Did…Did you just say you loved me?”

 Jason’s body tensed at her gently spoken words like they’d burned him.

 “Jason.”

Y/N’s more firm tone pleaded for some sort of response, but all she got was Jason slowly rising his head to look at her, his mask fully back in place.

 Even with his blank mask in place Y/N was usually able to read Jason’s eyes even if it took some effort, but not in that moment. Jason’s eyes were wide open windows holding back the response he wanted to give but failed to trust his voice with.

 Y/N couldn’t remember how to breathe as things slowly started to sink in, “Holy-“

 Y/N was thankful she was still sitting on the bed because she was sure she’d have hit the floor as her words died.

Jason’s jaw was tight, unsure if Y/N’s actions meant she was staying or if she just needed time to recover before leaving.

 “How long?”

 Jason’s brows lifted, “How long what?”

 “How long have you…”

 Jason caught her meaning but never answered; he didn’t see how that was an important piece of information.

 Y/N watched as Jason stared out their bedroom window, his jaw was set tightly all the while a muscle worked wildly away. Swallowing in attempt to destroy the dryness in her throat Y/N decided that Jason’s first ever emotional response had been short lived. Looking down at her jean clad thighs the internal war that ragged on continually had her back at square one.

Another long bout of silence came as Y/N found herself having an internal war of reasoning.

 “I have conditions.”

 Jason’s eyes snapped up at Y/N’s whispered words. The harsh seriousness Jason found in her eyes had him holding his breath.

 “I can’t keep being the only one putting in the effort. I need you to meet me halfway. I need you to trust me enough to let me in.” Y/N pushed a tired hand through her hair “I just…you have to work with me Jay.”

 Jason silently nodded.

 “No. I need to hear the words.”

 Jay swallowed thickly while uncrossing his arms, “Okay.”

 Y/N smiled through her tears while reaching toward him. It wasn’t long before Jason was kneeling before her his head in her lap as they held each other.

 This is where they would continue their uphill war, but this time it would be them against the world.

[tomoyanosekai]

七転び八起き Style ~Resilience and Hope~ (Nanakorobi Yaoki Style)

This post is dedicated to my former teachers. Although none of them know about this blog or will ever read this, I dedicate this to them and the journey I’ve been on. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for everything you all have done.  

“Tsuzukeru koto ga daijisa

suki koso jouzu nare

Tsumazuita tte kamawanai

Nanakorobi yaoki style”

(“The most important thing is to keep going

be good at what you like

It's okay if you stumble somewhere

Your style is to keep getting up when you fall”)

「七転び八起き。」

“Nanakorobi yaoki.”

(Fall down seven times, stand up eight.)

As I laid awake in my bed late at night, I kept listening to a song that got me through last summer in Japan. That song was “P.A.R.T.Y. ~Universe Festival~” by DA PUMP. As I kept listening, it was the phrase “Nanakorobi Yaoki” that kept me up thinking.

 “Fall down seven times, stand up eight.”

To give some context, I was interning at a Japanese American Community Center three years ago around this time. One of the duties that came with interning there included helping out at a Children’s Camp dedicated to teaching kids about their culture and heritage as Japanese Americans. At the camp, we would need to do various arts, crafts, stories and skits with the kids and teach them about their heritage. One such story that we told to them was about the Daruma, and how if it’s knocked over, it’s inner design allows it to continue to get back up; hence the phrase “Nanakorobi yaoki,” or “Fall down seven times, get back up eight times.” Sort of fitting that the phrase uses “seven” and also finds its way into a blog post summarizing July, doesn’t it? July, for the most part, has been a good month. But with July being such a good month, I couldn’t help but question and ask why so many good things for me were happening around this time. Even now, I still keep repeating this question in my head:  

“Why now?” 

If I were to summarize everything going on in July for me, I think the best way to sum everything up is simply found in Job 1:21: 

“...The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

To begin somewhere, I haven’t been jogging due to the unbearable summer heat, accompanied with the busyness of life. I ended up losing my hours at the Ramen Shop as quickly as I got them back due to the changing landscape because of COVID-19 (which ironically were lost the day after I posted said blog from last month, and hours since then have been annoyingly sporadic.) Aside from the ramen shop, I tried to apply for another job at Biola, which only ended with me getting passed by them after being told that my skill set and qualifications weren’t the thing they were looking for. But even though I went through problems regarding finances and occupation, God’s still been providing for me in other ways; mainly through my friends. I was reunited with and able to spend time with a lot of my friends; many of them coming from different, yet important parts of my life going from the end of June and spread throughout July. However, I think that the fact that my friends were given to me at this specific time has been a reminder for me of sorts.

I won’t lie: it’s easy to forget about many people going forward in life, especially with those whom you thought didn’t play an especially big role. However, even if you forget about them, those people are some of the ones who initially helped lead you to meet some of the best people that would shape your life forever. Just as the Lord gives, he also takes away, as I stated earlier. Throughout this month, I had to hear about the unfortunate news that my former first grade teacher and my middle school principal both passed away. If it weren’t for my first grade teacher, I probably wouldn’t have met my childhood best friend Justin as soon as I did through her. Likewise, if it weren’t for my middle school principal, I wouldn’t have been able to foster such a close friendship and brotherhood in Christ with Justin; especially since that principal was the one who allowed us to start an after school Christian Club together. 

To be completely honest: these are not people I think about on a daily basis. Although I was initially more shocked than sad, it took their passings for me to really think about how much of a role they played in my life. I know I tend to focus a lot especially on the weight of friendship and the idea personal growth on this blog, but I never really properly recognized the people that helped lead to these things. Even though it seemed small, the foundation and support they put within my life has played a large role into who I am. The last thing I remember of my first grade teacher was very recent, where she commented a congratulatory note on a graduation picture my Mom had posted onto Facebook in May. Even though it didn’t mean much to me back then, I can say that I graduated before she passed away. The weight that comes from the fact that she, alongside a few of my other former teachers, were able to see me graduate from college, takes on a completely new and different meaning for me, and it means so much more to me that I was able to do it before she passed away. 

Though I had to take in losses and failures within my life in the shape of different things, it wasn’t an entirely bad month either. As I wrote earlier, I was able to see many friends from different parts of my life, arguably some of the most important parts of my life: my home church Evergreen, my childhood, Sigma, and Hope Rising. Although it was great seeing everyone, I kept questioning why they were all given back to me at this specific time. As fun as the multiple meet-ups and hangouts were, there was also hints of bittersweetness to go with it. Five years ago before I graduated from high school, a question I posed to myself during my senior year was this: 

“After everything’s said and done, what kind of world will be reflected in my eyes as I get to the top and finish?” 

Looking back at that question, I’ll admit that was a really overly dramatic and extremely extra way of wording things. But answering the question properly, as I reached the top and graduated from college, the world I see in front of me currently is a world where many of my friends are continuing to move forward with their lives towards bigger and better things. It’s a bit bittersweet and lonely as I see them off on their ways. Coming off the cuff of getting passed by for a job opportunity and not having consistent hours at my current part time job, and I couldn’t help but question, 

“When will it be my turn again?”  

I know I’m still living in what feels like an infinite present time where I can’t make plans for my future or move forward; it’s still extremely frustrating at the end of the day. Despite facing melancholy and bittersweet realities, everyone kept reminding me of one thing throughout this month: they kept reminding me that I never gave up hope, and no matter how hard or bad life became, I always remained strong and resilient. Even when I wanted to give up on myself, one of my friends laid it out for me really well:

“So much drama, graduation failures, romantic attempts, broken friendships, and a bunch of other things, and yet you haven’t given up hope yet. You still have hopes, dreams, aspirations, and so many other things that you’re trying to find, and the fact you’re trying to find it and don’t know means you haven’t given up hope yet. If you actually gave up hope, that would’ve meant not meeting up with us today, choosing not to work or find a job, or even finding a way to graduate.”

But even with this laid out for me plain as day, a conversation I had with one of my fellow teammates from my Missions Trip asked me this question:

“The next question you should ask yourself is this: Where does this hope come from?” 

As I rack my brain trying to answer this question, I know that my hope comes from Jesus primarily. But if I look at this and try to answer and analyze it with specifics in mind, I didn’t give up hope because I had something to prove to myself and the world, and was too stubborn to give up when things got hard. The thing I wanted to prove was that if I could have an insanely stubborn hope and prevail despite things in life becoming seemingly hopeless, I can help others by instilling and inspiring that same undying spirit to someone else who needs it and be a living testament to God’s goodness.

“Tsuzukeru koto ga daijisa

suki koso jouzu nare

Tsumazuita tte kamawanai

Nanakorobi yaoki style”

(“The most important thing is to keep going

be good at what you like

It's okay if you stumble somewhere

Your style is to keep getting up when you fall”)

「七転び八起き。」

“Nanakorobi yaoki.”

(Fall down seven times, stand up eight.)

I’ve been knocked down a bunch of times, and yet each time, I kept finding ways to continue getting back up. I’m extremely uncomfortable and frustrated with how this year’s turning out and where I am with life, but… I’ll figure it out eventually. Definitely not now, but at some point eventually. As Paul the Apostle writes in Romans 5:3-5,

“3 Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

Life is always going to continue changing. However, even in the midst of change, the friendships I was able to form from back then will continue to change and grow. These friendships and foundations are a testament to what my first grade teacher and middle school principal allowed us to cultivate and learn. We’re carrying on their legacy as we continue to live and grow; we’re moving forward with our lives as a testament dedicated to the lessons you taught us.

Thank you for everything and Rest in Peace, Mrs. Gomez and Mr. Schubert. 

Thank you for all your hard work and everything you’ve done in making me the person I am now.