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spiltscribbles · 4 years ago

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Worth It

~Notes: Oof, I know I have so many prompts in my inbox and I appreciate them so much! But I wanted to write something after dinner in dedication and a gift to the lovely Remus-John-Lupin!!!!!!!<3<3<3 I love you RJ and I appreciate you and your friendship so fucking much, so this is just a strange little gift from me to you in thanks for how kind you’ve always been to me since I joined this crazy fandom, ILY and you’re my favorite slag!!!!

Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams. He likes her damn it,! And one does not commit battery to folks that they like.

Assured that his pure irritation won’t bleed through his words, Sirius tries again in his most charming of inflections. “All I want is his number.”

“No,” she repeats, casually steadfast while poking at her salad— Not even bothering to flick her gaze up at an increasingly irate Sirius.

“Why are you being so fucking difficult!”

“Why are you still bitching about this,” she counters, finally giving him her undivided attention, even if it’s her glaring at him like she’d like to skewer Sirius on a stick.

“Hey guys, let’s chill.” James tries to mediate, laughing awkwardly between the pair of them, hand raised in concession and glasses going a bit skewed.

They promptly ignore him.

“I like him. What is so difficult to understand Evans? Aren’t you like supposed to be some brainiac or some shit?”

“It’s been like two months Black,” she says pointedly, grip on her fork tightening while her mouth curls unpleasantly. “That’s way past your ordinary infatuations, so why the hell do you still even care.”

Sirius bares his teeth, pinning her with a glower that once made an old school yard bully of Regulus’s actually piss his pants. So of course Lily doesn’t even flinch. “He’s cute.”

“You’re a dog.”

“You’re being a total ass.”

“And you’re a bastard.”

“But you love me though.”

“Just barely.”

“So you’ll give me Remus’s number?”

“Dream on.” she says with a lofty sniff and haughty flip of the hair, discarding her barely eaten lunch before swaggering over to where a group of her friends from the STEM club are sat, including Alice Flores and Dorcas Meadowes.

“Guess you’re back to square one Pads.” James says, unhelpful as fuck, so Sirius only flips him off before snatching back his calculus homework from a pitiful looking Peter.

“Fuck this.”

Sirius thinks of himself as a reasonable sort of guy.

He isn’t one for holding grudges or obsessing over perceived slights. He’s brilliant whether he’s playing linebacker on the field or taking a exam in class.

For fuck’s sake, Sirius can be plumped down in any and all social situations without warning, and can have the room eating out the palm of his hand within the first five minutes.

In layman’s terms, he’s decent and driven and downright charismatic. Mix this all together, and well Sirius thinks he’s a pretty fantastic fucking package— if he does say so himself. He can have his pick of the lot, truly. Especially when walking down the halls flocked by his best friend turned second brother on one end and little Petey, who’s a great hype man, on the other. So its only poetic justice that the one person who’s been able to swallow up all his attention is the one person who doesn’t even give him a second glance most days.

And that’s fucking ridiculous.

This is ridiculous! He is fucking ridiculous! No, record scratch. Remus fucking Lupin is the most ridiculous part of this all!

Remus lupin with his delightfully disheveled hair the color of gold and his crooked grin that’s everything darling in the world, and his big doe eyes that sometimes flare with green specs when he’s especially passionate in class or when he’s chatting with Lily in the halls. Remus lupin who’s only just moved here to Murray Hill from a small town in southern Illinois and who toppled Sirius’s world upside-down while he was at it.

The first time they met was completely on accident.

It was the week before classes began, and Sirius had only just come back from his family trip to their villa in Rome, and he was only meant to meet James at the coffee shop that Lily was working at now. They were suppose to head to the city and go out drinking to celebrate the start of their senior year. Sirius was suppose to find a nice, college aged girl to fuck because he’s given up on the boring lot that infests Hogwarts these days. It was suppose to be easy and fun and he was suppose to stay stringless and unattached as ever.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Sirius walked into the Howling Moon and was met by the sight of the most lovely, most gorgeous boy he’s ever met. Hand to God, it felt like one of those slow motion moments in a Romantic Comedy when the disgruntled, wayward lead first sets their eyes on that love interest— the one to out shine all others, the one who turns everything inside out and makes it all glitter gold.

“Hey there,” Remus had grinned like the fucking sun, slipping the pen from his ear and hand poised over the cups lining the counter. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, erm— Yeah. Just a caramel macchiato, iced.”Sirius’s ordinarily smooth baritone almost fucking cracked while ordering, and Remus’s beautiful eyes had glittered.

“Would’ve taken you for a dark roast sort of guy.” He said, and Sirius swears that it was playful and flirtatious and a little mischievous too.

Sirius was in love.

“I’ve been known to partake in sweets, you know, if they catch my eye,” he replied, eyes lingering meaningfully up and down Remus’s slighter frame.

“What a come on,” Remus had laughed, head thrown back to show off his long neck and Sirius was so fucking gobsmacked at how it quite literally sounded like all the most splendid instruments woven together.

He had ducked his head, so unordinary bashful but so beyond pleased. “What can I say beautiful, you bring it out of me.”

“”Cute.” Remus had chuckled, cheeks going a fetching red and scribbling down the order. “Definitely one of the more interesting one liners I’ve gotten today.”

Sirius ignored the flare of jealousy over that, considering that he hasn’t gotten to even kiss him yet, and he should probably take this slow if he doesn’t want to screw it up. “Has anyone of those bastards mentioned how your eyes put the brownies on sale to shame?”

“No one as hot as you if I’m being honest,” Remus retorted, ringing him up and sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. And fuck, Sirius knew he was in trouble from then on.

They had talked for over half an hour about nothing at all in that tiny bistro while Remus was busy exchanging the coffee pots for a fresh batch and rearranging the baked goods, and it was amazing.

Sirius has always been someone who couldn’t sit still, who had to be fluttering all over the place to feel like he was actually headed somewhere, like he was getting something finished. But for the first time in too long, just sitting there, still and silent and besotted while Remus chatted about his hometown and moving half way across the country and his eccentric mother— Well Sirius felt completely balanced, completely calm. He felt like just as long as Remus was their chatting with him and smiling in that beguiling way of his, that Sirius could actually breathe without pressure. Like he knew what it meant to have a center.

So of course, right when he decided that he was going to snatch him up— to ask him out on a date before anyone else from their shitty class filled with degenerates and dick heads could— Lily of all people had swaggered in, and gave him a caustic sort of glower that plainly said, keep the fuck away.

Ordinarily Sirius would’ve completely ignored her warning, would’ve unashamedly and excitedly chased after the cutest fucking boy he’s ever laid his eyes on with an absurd sort of zeal. But he under estimated just how much sway Lily was able to cater with Remus in the few weeks they worked with one another before he had met him. So instead of starting off the year with a brand new, insanely pretty boyfriend wrapped around one arm, Sirius has just spent the past nine weeks pining like a fucking love sick loser. Like he was starring in some cheesy John Hughes movie from the damn 80s!

And this will not do, this is not all right, not okay at all.

Sirius needs to figure out a way to get close to Remus, and outside of Lily’s overbearing claws. Something that only Remus likes, that Sirius can partake in to prove himself worthy.

As he promenades down the hall towards his free period, Sirius creates a mental check list of the things he knows Remus enjoys.

Remus enjoys poetry, and Sirius knows that he’s part of the school’s award winning Forensics team. But they meet during the football practices so Sirius couldn’t even try to impress him in that arena until the spring. He also knows that Remus likes history, that he’s going to end up majoring in classics in University, but Sirius really doubts his ability to memorize the Iliad in the matter of a few hours— He’s good, but not that good.

“Jesus fuck is this hard,” he mutters nastily to himself, tugging at the ends of his dark hair before ramming straight into a display outside the southern wing of their preparatory school’s building.

He winces, not so much for the throbbing in his toes, but because of Marlene’s snappish attitude when he makes it so that the table shakes.

“Keep your head out your ass Black,” she scolds before going back to filing her nails. And Sirius is about to snipe right back at her— That is until he catches on the bright poster adorned with small rainbows and the words, GSA FOOD DRIVE spelt out in large lettering.

And oh!

“Eureka!”

“Pardon?” Marlene asks, nose wrinkled indelicately as she eyes him like he’s about to puke on her brand new Doc Martens again like last weekend. Holy shit, she should really get over it by now.

But Sirius is smart enough and tactful enough not to mention his thoughts on the matter, only smiles down at her with pure elation. “Marls, what if I said I had a brilliant idea to help our lovely GSA.”

“I’d accuse you to only doing it to try and get in Lupin’s pants since he’s our new VP.”

Sirius grapples for his chest, feigning indignant. “You pain me my old friend.”

Marlene snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“So are your chances with Lupin.”

“You’re a sick fuck McKinnon.”

“What do you want from me you gnat.”

“Let me help with the fundraiser.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll tell Lily to get Meadowes to notice you?”

Marlene glares at him now. “We’ve been fucking for like a month you prick.”

“Oh— Erm, then for some of that good old Bi unity?”

Marlene suddenly looks so very shrewd and Sirius hates how every fucking woman in his life could eat him whole for breakfast. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine, what the fuck do you want.”

“You cover Fabian’s costs for the goods when we go to that rave for 2KBABY in January.”

“Eh, didn’t you guys use to fuck?”

“Yes. But I don’t see the connection?”

“He won’t even give you a discount on the good shit?”

“Oh he does,” she leers, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the hallway light. “But I’d rather see you pay full price for’m.”

Sirius glares down at her, and repeats himself. “You. Are. A. Sick. Fuck.”

Marlene just lies back in her seat and returns to manicuring her nails. “Well if cheekbones isn’t worth the bother?”

“Fine,” Sirius all but growls out. “But we do this my way.”

“Scout’s honor handsome,” she absolutely beams, and Sirius reminds himself that this is all for Remus and that’s worth it at the end of the day.

It’s a week later, right before Thanksgiving break hits, and Sirius is sat in front of the cafeteria, smirking at the line of mostly pink faced girls and a few others amongst their midst, who have all queued up in front of him. A dollar in each of their hands, though he does see that a few have fives and even tens or more, and he doesn’t know how to subtly tell them that all he’s promising is a quick peck of his lips, and absolutely no other groping— including of his legendary ass or admittedly perfect abs.

“You’re just really enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” James hisses besides him after the latest girl— a blonde sophomore who’s decked out in Lulu Lemon for their only non uniform day of the week— scurries off. “Just a ego trip.”

“Jealous Jamie darling?” Sirius boasts, tipping back on his chair while Marlene collects the cash from the next five in line so that they can clammer closer towards him.

“I can’t believe all of them want to kiss you,” Peter marvels, round eyes completely in aw.

“I can’t believe you think this is how to get Remus’s attention,” Lily interjects huffily, lips set in a moody pout while perched on James’s lap to Sirius’s left.

“I bet you would’ve been in line if you weren’t dating Jamie here.” Sirius counters, smug as all get out, and laughing when all Lily deigns as a adequate response is her middle finger.

Sirius is on cloud nine. He can’t believe he didn’t think of this sooner! Remus loves all this shit, from the club to the charity. This is perfect! This basically guarantees that he’ll finally get a good smooch on him. And once their lips finally touch, Remus will surely feel the swarm of butterflies in his gut just like in those Harleyquin romance novels his cousin Narcissa would always read with a dreamy look on her face during their various Family vacations.

“You’re not gonna get him this way.”

“He’s not gonna know what hit’m Evans,” Sirius retorts, completely self assured.

One should never bet against Lily Marie Evans.

Sirius knows this now. But he still hates it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

By the end of the lunch hour, Sirius’s earned over sixty bucks to the GSA’s fundraiser fund, and absolutely zero potential boyfriends who look like golden angels and make Sirius’s knees weak.

“I told you,” Lily says in that sing-song sort of voice that is so not appreciated right now. “Remus is not the type to kiss you in front of a huge crowd and after like a bunch of others. That’s not his style.”

Sirius is moody as all get out, and he’s irritated that he’s just wasted five dozen perfectly fine kisses on folks who aren’t Remus, so he doesn’t bother to hide his irritation when he gripes back at her, “Then tell me what the fuck is his style.”

Miraculously, that actually proved enough to get Lily to slow down her stroll, and cock her head curiously at him. “You actually care.”

“What the fuck have I been trying to tell you Evans!” He nearly shouts.

“I just thought— You know. That it was a game.”

Sirius’s face goes stoney, and he juts his chin away from her. “It’s not always a fucking game, all right. It’s not a game with him— I like him. I like Remus.”

“Oh,” Lily says very quietly, her face pulled in a thousand different directions before settling on something akin to solemn. “You should go to the music room for your free period today.”

Sirius quirks a brow at her, frowning while he asks, “Why?”

“Just trust me S,” she says, reaching over her hand to squeeze his forearm.

Sirius watches her walk off, hand in hand with James, and he feels a strange twisting to his heart when he imagines a very similar image— only with him and Remus and punctuated by plenty of kisses to the cheek, and jawline and lips too.

The music room is towards the back of the school, in a separate building along with the theatre and main auditorium.

The early autumnal chill lashes against Sirius’s face while he makes the track to the room, continuously chanting to himself that he actually trusts Lily and this is gonna be worth it if there’s a merciful God up there.

Once Sirius clammers in doors, he rubs his cold hands together, and shakes out his hair.

The first thing he hears is the soft strumming of a guitar, and finds himself in front of the music room after following its melodic toon.

Through the window he can spot the form of Remus bent over the instrument, his thick curls getting in his eyes and his steady hands plucking a few chords as he sits cross legged atop the piano.

Sirius feels his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of him, so beautiful and perfect and warm looking in that scarlet sweater. And he knows in his bones that this is some sort of unspoken blessing that Lily’s given him, so with a deep breath, Sirius opens the door and strolls in.

Remus starts slightly, going flushed once his eyes catch on Sirius’s own.

“Oh Sirius,” he greets, the corners of his mouth tipping into a smile that doesn’t ring true. “You pulled away from the haram?”

“That’s a bit much? Calling them a haram,” Sirius says cooly, hitching up besides him and swinging his long legs. “I just did it to help you.”

“Oh— Yeah,” Remus nods. “The GSA appreciates all the help we can get.” His words are quiet, and he’s rinsing a hand through his curls, so Sirius can tell that he’s a bit nervous. And it’s impossibly cute, but also not on. He doubts that he’ll ever get his kiss if Remus won’t even look at him in the eyes.

Gingerly, Sirius sets the pad of his pointer finger beneath Remus’s chin, lifting his gaze upwards. “Not the GSA— Though I appreciate the club’s work and your part in that.”

“Oh,” Remus says again, lips pursed and his throat pulsing when he swallows down. “Then—“

“I did it for you Remus,” Sirius repeats heatedly. “I did it because I’ve been mad for you since ever meeting you in August, and I can’t get your fucking face or name or lips or ass out of my head. And I thought that if maybe I pulled a dumb stunt like that, you would actually kiss me along with the lot of those idiots who can’t even hold a candle to you.”

“M—My ass?” Remus questions, voice going pitchy and face bright with emotion.

Sirius laughs, booming and bombastic. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen Remus Lupin and it’s really obscene.”

Remus shoulder checks him, looking down and then back up through his lashes at Sirius and it’s a sight Sirius wish he can keep with him for the rest of his days.

“So you thought I’d want our first kiss to happen after you’ve just made out with half the school?”

Sirius grimaces, bending down so that their lips are only inches apart. “Listen, I can be a complete dumb ass on occasion.”

“Don’t forget arrogant.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And brash too.”

“Right.”

“Also you tend—“

Sirius places a soft hand over Remus’s supple lips, glaring teasingly at the other boy, who’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary, his eyes teeming with laughter.

Remus Lupin is going to be the death of him, Sirius knows it.

“Listen Lupin, I’d like a shred of self respect here, so I can actually muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date already.”

Remus perks at that, so Sirius moves his grasp.

“You wanna ask me out?”

“Depends…. You wanna continue that little rant until I’m blue balled and gutless.”

“Hmm,” Remus inches closer, setting his hand over Sirius’s on the piano. “Nah, I think I’d rather do this.”

He leans forwards and Sirius barely has enough time to gather his bearings when he feels Remus’s mouth over his own and it’s literally every starlit promise and sugar burnt secret and sunlit afternoon all rolled into one. And Sirius feels his heart thud an uneven staccato when he grabs for either end of Remus’s waistline and plunges his tongue into his own and he lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all.

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #💜rj💜#SPILT INK

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levitatingbiscuits · 4 years ago

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How would Anakin and the others react if they ever found out the truth about OB-1?

Kenobi was a cockroach. A thorn in Sidious’s side that never fell out no matter how many deadly missions the kindly old chancellor personally requested that he take. One might think that the exhaustion would make him sloppy, if nothing else, but Kenobi handled everything Sidious threw at him with a dogged determination and competence that seemed beaten into his DNA. At times he acted more like a droid programmed to be the perfect Jedi than a real, flawed sentient; obedient and selfless to a fault, utterly unwilling to advocate for himself but frustratingly eager to advocate for others. His Force signature never wavered, never fell out of balance no matter how Sidious stacked the scales.

Surely Kenobi must have some weakness, a psychological hangup to exploit or some emotional scar to rip back open. Sidious hired someone to slice into his Temple records, then hired a bounty hunter to take care of the slicer.

What he found was intriguing, but frustratingly incomplete. Wide swaths of the record from his time as a padawan were vague to nonexistent. There was nothing indicating why Jinn had taken him on in the first place, nor why he hadn’t returned to Coruscant at all for the first few years of his apprenticeship.

Sidious knew how to hide things. It made him very good at sniffing out others’ secrets.

Weeks of snooping eventually led to Halle Burtoni, the senator from Kamino, who told him the delicious truth of the matter without even having to be bribed or threatened for it. She was eager to brag; the Jedi clone was Kamino’s most successful product.

And so Sidious kept the truth to himself, waiting for the most opportune moment to twist it to his will.

Rex shares an eye roll with Cody when Skywalker steps out of the command tent to take a “very important comm message.” It’s either the chancellor or Senator Amidala; Skywalker never answers that quickly for anyone else.

General Kenobi stands hunched over the holotable, projecting the terrain where the newest Seppie stronghold is. The locals are, as usual, worse than useless when it comes to defending their own planet, so Kenobi’s brow is already pinched even though they haven’t yet seen combat.

Rex is never sure how to help his oldest brother when he gets like this. With any other brother he would; ages hardly mattered among the rest of the vode, but Kenobi holds both seniority and authority over the rest of them. He takes his role as ori’vod, as their protector and leader, seriously, even though most of the GAR don’t realize the meaning behind it.

Rex can’t understand it. His brothers are the most important thing in the galaxy to him, but Kenobi gets all of the responsibility with none of the brotherhood. He’ll respect his wishes to keep it quiet, all the same.

Skywalker comes storming back into the tent, scowl thunderous and saber ignited, and Rex jumps to attention--has there been an attack?

“Anakin?” the general asks, straightening up. “What’s--”

And then Skywalker levels the saber at a startled General Kenobi.

Cody’s hand is immediately on his blaster, but he doesn’t draw. Rex doesn’t either. He has no idea what to do.

“What in the Force’s name has possessed you now? Were you eating strange bugs again?” Kenobi demands irately. He makes no move to draw his own saber. His trust in Skywalker is, even in this situation, absolute.

“Shut up,” Skywalker snarls. “Captain, Commander, restrain this man.”

“General Skywalker, I cannot allow you to do this,” Cody snaps, shoulders tense with anger.

“He’s an impostor!” Skywalker yells. “A clone!”

Rex’s stomach sinks like a tubie learning to swim. If Skywalker hadn’t known Kenobi was a clone beforehand--if nobody had realized but him--

“He replaced Obi-Wan for kriff knows how long, and no one noticed!” Behind the mask of rage, Skywalker’s eyes are frightened. “I didn’t notice!”

Rex had. Rex had noticed almost as soon as the damn war started.

Cody, who doesn’t know that it was the clone who had earned his loyalty instead of the natborn, jumps to cuff him after that. Kenobi doesn’t struggle. Rex starts to help a few seconds later, mind a screaming void of panic and guilt, and his heart clenches when Kenobi cuts him a concerned, questioning glance.

This may be a Seppie spy, may be an enemy that Rex helped, but he’s still acting like a brother.

“I suppose I always knew it would come out eventually,” Kenobi says once he’s chained to the center tent pole. He doesn’t sound mocking or angry or even worried. He sounds resigned.

“Drop the act,” Skywalker orders. “You’re not Obi-Wan, stop pretending to be him.” He looks deeply unsettled. Rex has only ever known the clone Kenobi, but Skywalker must have grown up with the original.

Kenobi meets his eyes steadily. “This is what I was made for. I’ve always been him.”

“I don’t care what the Separatists told you, you are not him,” Skywalker says.

For the first time, Kenobi looks surprised. “The Separatists? I wasn’t commissioned by the Separatists, that’s ridiculous.”

Skywalker is incensed, but Cody looks ashen. This must be overwhelming for someone who thought Kenobi was a natborn until a minute ago. There’s also the sobering implications of a third party with the power to dispose of, and replace, a Jedi Master, without anyone noticing. How many more Jedi could be plants?

Surprisingly, it’s Kenobi who breaks the silence. “I understand your... reservations, but this frankly seems like an overreaction. We are in the middle of a campaign, Anakin--”

Skywalker backhands him across the face. The loud crack that reverberates through the tent tells Rex that it’s with the metal one.

“Shut up, meat droid!” Skywalker roars. Rex feels sick and hot hearing that term from his general. “You aren’t him, so stop acting like it.”

Kenobi breathes deeply through his nose for a second. His lip is split. “I understand that my discovery means that I will be decommissioned, as per contract, but I must advise that doing so in the middle of a war is a waste of resources.”

It is very, very strange to hear High General Kenobi talk about being decommissioned so frankly. Every other clone is terrified of being decommissioned, of being recycled into raw organic matter for more clones to be grown from, like natborns are of death. Kenobi talks like he’s always known it would happen eventually.

“You are vastly overestimating your own importance, clone,” Skywalker says, and Rex has to fight not to flinch at the anguish that darts across Kenobi’s face. “Tell me where Obi-Wan is.”

“Dead,” Kenobi says, the word as loud as a detonation. “He’s been dead for years.”

Skywalker stumbles back. “No,” he says, voice trembling. “No, I would have known. I would have felt it.”

“How could you have felt it?” Kenobi pleads, “Anakin, you have me.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

The interrogations continue for days. The men are confused and restless, the campaign indefinitely put on hold. The 212th are especially restless, having gone days without word from their general. Even Cody drifts aimlessly around the camp without saying much to anyone. Rex thinks he’s mourning, but doesn’t know how to tell him that he probably never even met the prime version of his general without getting decommissioned himself for not reporting General Kenobi’s clone status sooner.

Rex and Skywalker are the only ones who go into the command tent, now. Rex technically isn’t supposed to, but Skywalker definitely isn’t following POW protocol and Kenobi won’t be able to answer any questions if he doesn’t at least get water.

Rex goes there now, once it’s past dark and Skywalker is holed up in his own tent. The 501st clones guarding the tent look just as conflicted as he feels; he doesn’t envy them for having to listen to the interrogations. Not many of the men know who’s in there, because if too many of the 212th find out there will be a real risk of widespread mutiny. Hell, learning that their general is a clone would just make them more loyal, not less.

Kenobi’s face is so bruised, beaten, and bloodied that it’s almost unrecognizable. He thinks that’s probably why Skywalker did it in the first place.

Rex kneels next to the tent pole to help Kenobi sip from a canteen, and is shamefully relieved that he doesn’t bother opening either black eye. His hands are still bound behind his back; it looks like Skywalker’s broken a few of his fingers. From the way he winces when Rex touches him, he’s probably broken more than just that.

“Sir, you have to answer his questions,” Rex whispers, both to avoid being overheard and to keep his voice from wavering. “I... I’m worried Skywalker is going to kill you.”

“Oh, he definitely will,” Kenobi rasps once he’s chugged the whole bottle. His chuckle is wry and forced. “No use denying the inevitable.”

“Why can’t you tell us who commissioned you? Are they a threat to the Republic?”

“No, he was just as loyal as you or I,” General Kenobi says. That’s all he’s said to Skywalker for the past few days: I am loyal to the Republic. He learned pretty quick that saying anything else that wasn’t an answer to a direct question wouldn’t end well. “And even if he weren’t, he’s long dead.”

“As long dead as your prime?”

“No,” Kenobi says, beaten face unreadable but body tense, “Not quite so long as that.”

Rex scrubs a hand over his shorn head in frustration. “Why are you protecting him, if he’s dead? You’re the only one who will be hurt if you refuse to talk.”

“Because Anakin would be hurt,” Kenobi says softly. “Anakin worships him. Loves him far more than he loved me, if he ever truly did.”

Rex wants to refute that. Anyone who’s seen them interact before this fiasco would know just how deeply Skywalker respects and trusts his master, but...

All those feelings are for the prime. They are not for the clone that took his place, so fully and flawlessly that even the man who loved him best never noticed.

“So Skywalker knew him?” Rex probes. The general’s silver tongue is looser than normal today.

“I doubt anyone truly knew him but me. No one ever suspected... no one cared enough,” Kenobi murmurs, head slumping to the side. Rex puts a gentle palm on the least bloody part of his forehead, and hisses when he finds it hot.

“Kriff, you’re burning up, vod. You need a medic.”

Kenobi doesn’t respond. He might be unconscious.

Rex sits in a dark tent with a cloned Jedi, a brother, who might be dying right beside him, and makes a choice.

The comm takes a while to connect (come to think of it, Rex has no idea what time it is in the senate district on Coruscant) but then there’s Fox, looking sleep deprived and livid, as always.

“CT-7567? What the hell is going on with the Open Circle fleet? You haven’t contacted the Order in a week, the senate thinks you’re either dead or MIA.”

“Vod, you have to help me,” Rex begs, surprising Fox into silence. “Contact the council. Tell them Skywalker is killing General Kenobi.”

#Anonymous #clone obi-wan au #whump #torture #abuse #interrogation #misunderstandings #miscommunication #my writing #obi-wan whump #sorry about the wait y'all

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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years ago

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For the prompt thing if you're still doing it: what if Madam Yu had sent some of the youngest juniors with WWX and Jiang Cheng when she sent them away from the incoming Wens. I doubt it would've impacted anything long term but I like the idea, i feel like the 3 siblings are all good with kids in very different ways. Also it means that in addition to 3 (not quite) adults who've just lost their home and family, there's a bunch of kids whom the same is true for and it'd be a disaster

A-Su was the one who told Wei Wuxian what happened.

The Wen cultivators that had been patrolling the marketplace, approaching Wei Wuxian from his blind spot, and Jiang Cheng had seen them coming –

“– and then shixiong put me down and told me to go back,” he said, crying bitter tears. “He said to tell you that you have to – that someone has to avenge –”

“That idiot,” Wei Wuxian said, his lips were numb. “The Wens – they have Wen Zhuliu there! Doesn’t he know what they’ll do to him –”

And now all three of them were crying, A-Su, A-Min, and A-Lei; the three of them weren’t even proper shidi, having never paid their respects to Sect Leader Jiang as their master, even though everyone had known that it was only because they were too young. They’d been so jealous when A-Jun, the oldest of the lot, had officially become the ninth shidi, before he’d been taken away by the Wens…

Wei Wuxian was helpless. He’d promised Madame Yu he wouldn’t let Jiang Cheng down; he’d promised Jiang Cheng that he wouldn’t leave the children behind, that he’d take them to safety – they’d found them hiding in barrels in the ship Madame Yu had sent them away in. Someone had told to sit and hide until it was safe, and it wasn’t safe, it still wasn’t safe. How could he choose between the two oaths he’d sworn?

But if he didn’t go, Jiang Cheng might be –

“We go,” he decided, even though it was foolish. Jiang Cheng was the only hope of the Jiang sect continuing – as much as he loved his shijie, Jiang Yanli would be unhappy as sect leader, with all the fighting and political maneuvering that the position required. If there was no Jiang sect, the children would grow up sectless, or be absorbed into another sect, and Wei Wuxian hated that idea.

Just as much as he hated the idea of Yunmeng Jiang becoming Yunmeng Wei.

“All of us?”

“I can’t let you stay by yourselves,” Wei Wuxian said, and it was true. The three of them were too young to hide the fact that they were cultivators, and bad at lying; leaving them alone was tantamount to giving them up entirely, and odds were good that he’d never find them again. He couldn’t break his promise to Jiang Cheng like that. “It’s very dangerous, though. You have to listen to me all the time.”

There was no way to balance out his promises. He’d just have to try to do the impossible.

To do – to do what Jiang Cheng had done for him.

Wei Wuxian swallowed hard and went back.

A-Lei tugged at the older man’s sleeve. “Can you help us find our ninth shixiong, too?” he asked shyly.

It was officially ‘shixiong’ now, even if Jiang Cheng was – was unwell, as Wei Wuxian put it. He’d barely been able to sit up in bed, but he’d still accepted their offerings of tea and let them kneel in front of him, and just like that they were proper Jiang sect disciples at last.

The cultivator that had helped them get Jiang Cheng away from the Lotus Pier – his name was Wen Ning, he said – blinked down at them.

“What do y-you mean?” he asked.

“The Jiang sect’s ninth inner-door disciple,” A-Lei explained. “He was flying a kite, and the Wen sect took him away and said he’d done something wrong – but that means he wasn’t at the Lotus Pier when there was all that fighting. Do you think he might still be alive? He’s my biological brother. Well, half.”

“I don’t know,” Wen Ning said, hesitant. “I don’t have much status in the Wen sect, just a few subordinates that listen to me…”

“He’s my brother,” A-Lei said. “And my shixiong. His name is A-Jun and he’s better at shooting than our sixth shidi; he’s strong but a little silly sometimes. Can you try?”

“I can try,” Wen Ning agreed. “I’ll go back and look for him.”

“I’ll come with you,” A-Lei said. “You won’t know what he looks like, otherwise. Da-shixiong has to take care of Sect Leader Jiang, and it’s not like we’re doing anything to help.”

“I guess that’s okay,” Wen Ning said. “My sister needs me to help with something for a couple of days, but I think we can go after that –”

A-Jun was missing an arm when they found him, working as a slave in the Wen sect’s army canteen because he knew how to put together Yunmeng food that didn’t scorch the unaccustomed tongue, but he was alive.

There was a lot of crying.

“Everyone else is dead,” A-Min sobbed.

“I thought you were dead!” A-Jun said, his one remaining arm wrapped around A-Lei. “There were piles of bodies!”

A-Su just wailed.

“Can we maybe not be doing this here?” Wen Ning said, rubbing his face until his cheeks were red. “Please? We should go back. My sister doesn’t want me doing anything with you; I didn’t tell her I was going to meet with you. Or coming here. Or anything. I’m not supposed to have anything to do with the Jiang sect after - after what happened. She’s going to be so angry…I really need to get back.”

“You can’t go back yet,” A-Lei said. “Didn’t you hear what I told you before? Da-shixiong is missing.”

“I know Wei-gongzi is missing,” Wen Ning said. “But I haven’t heard anything about him or where he is. I promise I’ll tell you if I do. But really, we have to go! If anyone finds you in the middle of a Wen camp –”

“But you said that they won’t recognize us while we’re wearing Wen robes,” A-Min said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Neither will the Nie sect, if they attack,” Wen Ning pointed out. “Which they might.”

A-Jun looked at his three shidi. “You trust him?” he asked.

“He brought us to you,” A-Lei pointed out, and both A-Min and A-Su nodded. “He’s pretty all right.”

Wen Ning looked surprised, and then flattered to the point of blushing – he really wasn’t very good with compliments.

“Okay,” A-Jun said. “In that case, I have an idea…”

Less than a shichen later, Wen Chao was laughing at Wen Ning as a naïve idiot and Wang Lingjiao threw her shoes at him, but they had their answer – of course the report of Wei Wuxian had to be a false sighting, Wen Chao said between somewhat frenzied laughter, how could it be anything else when they’d thrown Wei Wuxian into the Burial Mounds in Yiling with their own two hands…?

Wen Ning bowed his head and hunched his shoulders, looking the perfect picture of embarrassment, and scuttled out of the room, bumping into Wen Zhuliu and recoiling a bit, then moving around him and out, going back to the kitchens.

“It worked,” he said, shoulders still shaking from the adrenaline. “But Wei-gongzi…”

“We need to go get him!” A-Su said at once. “Even if it’s just his bones. Otherwise Sect Leader Jiang will never stop looking.”

“Don’t curse him!” A-Lei said. ��Who says da-shixiong is dead, huh? He’s really strong. He could survive the Burial Mounds.”

“He’s definitely dead,” Wen Ning said gloomily, his hands still shaking, though whether from the revelation, the humiliation, or the close brush with Wen Zhuliu, who he sincerely and utterly hated, despised, loathed. “How could he survive? Especially without a –”

A-Min was the one who said, “We need to go find Wen Ning” to Jiang Cheng, because of course he was – A-Lei was the brave one, A-Su the crybaby, A-Jun the cautious survivor, but A-Min was most notable for being straightforward, simple-minded, and stubborn.

In other words, stupid.

“Why in the world would we go find one of the Wen-dogs?” Jiang Cheng snapped.

“Because he might get hurt,” A-Min said, puzzled. “He’s a Wen, after all. None of the new people fighting know that he’s a good one.”

“There’s no such thing as a good Wen.”

“No, Senior Wen is good,” A-Min insisted. “He helped us rescue you from the Lotus Pier, he helped take care of you when you were sick, he even helped us find da-shixiong in the Burial Mound…”

“Wait. That’s how you found Wei Wuxian?! A Wen told you?”

“No, Senior Wen didn’t know. He smuggled us into a Wen army camp and A-Jun had the idea of making him come in with a report that he’d heard someone had seen da-shixiong, and Wen Chao told him that was stupid ‘cause he’d been tossed into the Burial Mounds,” A-Min said.

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking conflicted.

Finally, he said, “Even if he helped you, it wasn’t necessary. Wei Wuxian would have gotten out of the Burial Mounds even without your help – without any of our help.” He looked a bit bitter. “He certainly doesn’t seem to need any of us anymore. With his demonic cultivation, he’s an entire army on his own – who needs all the Jiang sect cultivators I took so much time to raise up?”

“The Jiang sect does, of course,” A-Min said, not really understanding the connection between the two. “Imagine how boring it’ll be back in the Lotus Pier if it’s just you and us and da-shixiong! Actually, why don’t we invite Senior Wen to join the Jiang sect? That way, he won’t be a Wen-dog anymore.”

“Definitely not!”

“Why not? You took everyone else that’d join. You should probably kick some of them out, actually; they’re no good.”

“I will once things are a little more stable – anyway, that’s not the point. I’m not taking in a Wen. We’ll be accused of betraying the cultivation world.”

“Oh, that,” A-Min said. “That’s no big deal. They say that about da-shixiong’s cultivation, too.”

Jiang Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is a big deal. Even if it’s about Wei Wuxian’s cultivation. It’s very useful for killing Wens, but it’s still unorthodox. Once this is all over, he’ll have to give it up and go back to normal.”

“But how can he go back to normal if he doesn’t have a golden core?” A-Min wanted to know. “Isn’t that why he invented demonic cultivation?”

Jiang Cheng lowered his hand and stared at him. “What.”

“What?”

“Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a golden core?”

“No, of course, he gave it to – oh, no,” A-Min said. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“A-Min. As your sect leader, I am ordering you to tell me everything you know about this. Right now.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” A-Min protested. “Not tell him? He gave me an order!”

“You should have joined the Nie sect,” A-Lei said with a sniff. “You’re as blunt as a saber.”

“No way. There aren’t enough chili peppers in Qinghe for me.”

“There aren’t enough chili peppers in Yunmeng for you,” A-Jun said, serving them all soup. “I still can’t believe you told da-shixiong that his congee wasn’t spicy enough – I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look more offended, and I’m including the giant fight he had with Jiang Cheng over their cultivation.”

“Don’t worry,” A-Su reassured the dubious-looking Wen sect members that Jiang Cheng had claimed from the Jin sect after the fighting was over. “It’s not that spicy, and anyway we have some milk in case it is.”

After Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian got over their argument, they’d put their heads together and came up with a plausible-sounding argument about how the Jiang sect needed people more than any of the other sects, having lost so many of their own, and that as a result they should be given all the prisoners of war as part of the spoils. It meant they got fewer treasures, and less money, and the Wen sect remnants were mostly old men, women, and children so the deal was actually pretty bad for them, but Wei Wuxian said it would be dishonorable to do anything else and Jiang Cheng reluctantly agreed.

He’d insisted very loudly that it didn’t mean he forgave them for anything, but they’d all seen him kneeling on the ground to show little A-Yuan the basics of archery early in the morning when he thought no one was looking, and no one believed him even a little bit.

Still, it all worked out pretty well. Wen Ning was an excellent archer, even if his cultivation was a bit weak and his body not fully recovered from the beatings he’d suffered in the Jin war camp, and Wen Qing a uniquely talented doctor, and there were a few more useful people besides – even if all the old grannies knew how to do was laundry, that was still useful, since the Jiang sect had lost all its old grannies in the attack on the Lotus Pier.

They could make up the money another way.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think of da-shixiong’s congee,” A-Min said after he finished his first bowl of soup, reaching out for more. “We won’t have to deal with it for much longer.”

“What makes you say that?” A-Su asked, immediately anxious. “Is he sick? The demonic cultivation…”

“No, his demonic cultivation is much better now that he’s using all those clarity rituals,” A-Jun assured him. “Wen Qing started up a correspondence with some people in the Nie sect, since they have all those qi deviations, and they’re working on a whole bunch of new ideas – even the Lan sect is chipping in. With three of the Four Sects working on it, they’ll fix the problem, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I meant, anyway,” A-Min said.

“What did you mean, then?” A-Lei asked. “Why would da-shixiong stop making us his horrible tasteless congee? And don’t say it’s not – being spicy and having flavor are two different things.”

“Well, he might get married,” A-Min said. “During the hunt at Phoenix Mountain, I saw him and Hanguang-jun kissing in a tree –”

#mdzs #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #wen ning #original characters #my fic #my fics #of course things would change if you added a third party observer to any of WWX or JC's scenes #Wen Ning is good with kids #wangxian #in the background #Anonymous

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xserpx · 4 years ago

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Battle Ground Thoughts

Major spoilers below.

The Good

I really enjoyed the last part of the fight with Ethniu. Hendrick's sacrifice was well done, and the Marcone reveal was fantastic. The action was really great, although it did get too much at times, especially the beginning of the fight with Ethniu where it’s more like reading a shonen manga, lots of huge ‘final’ attacks and mist clearing as they wait for the blood spray before someone pulls a trap card. Still pretty likeable.

Marcone as a Knight of the Blackened Denarius is intriguing. My one caveat is that I think it diminishes his post-Small Favor achievements quite a bit, knowing he had access to all that power. It makes sense, especially considering just how much Marcone was able to get done, but yeah, I liked this little twist. Marcone is probably the main reason I would keep reading the books, as things stand.

I like the fact Harry's finally been kicked off the White Council, as he should be. I'm not sure why this is controversial, though. He’s clearly broken several laws, and tbh I was kind of surprised they kept him on after becoming the Winter Knight, like... conflicted interests, much?

Drakul and the Blampires were cool. Wouldn't mind seeing them again.

The Bad

Justine's reveal, while interesting bc omg Outsiders infesting the characters we love, it also absolutely terrifies me in terms of what it actually means for Thomas/Justine both in the future and in the past. A future that might not even happen, now. And considering how long it's been since she was infected, it's entirely possible a lot of Justine's feelings have been manufactured as well. One of the things at the top of my Do Not Want list was Justine or the baby getting hurt, and now we’re here.

I'm severely disinterested in Harry/Lara. I have no idea where it's going, but it's boring at best. Maybe Jim Butcher has an idea for it that doesn’t result in me rolling my eyes, but I’m not feeling charitable today.

Ivy and Harry never got a proper conversation. Also why tf was Ivy dressed in a school uniform for that fight? Unless she's a sailor senshi or something, it just doesn't make sense. Plus she should be in her mid-late teens by now, ffs, not her early teens.

We're still drawing out the Starborn mystery? Ugh, ok.

Michael's cursing out the White Council for kicking Harry off the team... Completely OOC, sorry, I hated it. Michael is a great character because he doesn't swear as a matter of principle. If he had to start swearing, that was a bad hill to choose.

The way the morality of the White Council flip flops depending on Dresden's mood is getting annoying. At the meeting at the end, he says the Council is the biggest defender of humanity, and that he's clearly sitting at the monsters' table, but they're also supposed to be the enemy for treating him as such? Ebenezar and some of the Seniors are douchebags, for sure - especially Eb as it's personal - but Carlos and the rest are solid good guys trying to do their best. After everything that's happened, Harry shouldn't be so freaking bitter. He’s a monster now. Either own it, or make different choices. Also Carlos should’ve told him what Molly did to him. I hate that this hasn’t been addressed and that Carlos just looks like a suspicious bastard when he’s actually sustained life-changing injuries and trauma. Communication generally between Harry and the White Council needs to start happening like yesterday.

Butters needs to just go away, please. Give me a break from this shithead. He's had a few months of training and can keep up with literally everyone. He gets all these Crowning Moments of Awesome, but he never suffers for it, and at this point I'm genuinely wondering whether he'll ever suffer any consequences whatsoever. Also he constantly outshines Sanya, who is ostensibly better qualified, and the Sword of Hope should have been the stronger of the two in that last fight. I’m sick of hearing how great Butters is, and being expected to laugh at all his dumb, nerdy references.

Harry barely thinks about Thomas when he considers his recent losses. Sure Thomas is still alive, but barely, with no guarantees he'll survive or that he'll come back the same person. Harry should be grieving for him as much as he's grieving for Karrin at this point. I also wanted there to be more reason behind Thomas's actions, some sort of conspiracy within the White Court, but there wasn't. It's bad enough being anxious for Thomas, but being anxious for his whole goddamn family is just way too much, ffs.

The Ugly

I mean, I've told people: if I'd tried to imagine a worst case scenario for Karrin Murphy's death, it would have been better than the ending we got. It's worse than James Norrington dying at the hands of Bootstrap Bill. It's worse than Superman's dad dying while trying to save the dog. She shouldn't have died at all, period, but if she absolutely had to go, there is no fucking way in HELL that that was the best way for it to happen. Whether she comes back or not, there is no way to justify that scene. Gard saying she saved everyone by defending Dresden might be a satisfying Watsonian explanation for some, but of all the times, of all the places, of all the ways, and of all the people... JB picked the absolute worst possible combination. Absolute. Garbage. It's not that he can't write decent sacrifices. Hendrick's death was superb! So why the FUCK couldn't Murph get the same treatment? Why the FUCK was she killed off so FUCKING pointlessly? This isn't a real life story. This isn't some hyperrealistic, anyone can die, Game of Thrones type bullshit, where you can just kill off the second main character as shock value and have it be valuable to a bigger theme. This is the Dresden Files, a fucking series where all the women are Playboy models, and there's a middle-aged dweeby guy in sports goggles riding a skateboard and wielding a lightsaber and facing off with a Titan after just a few months of training, and having threesomes with bisexual women half his age, one of whom wears a fucking Avengers t-shirt to bed. It's a fanservice show. So it is not too much to ask for the main female character to be given the kind of death she actually deserves, let alone that she be allowed to live long enough to enjoy a relationship that's been so fantastically built up over 15+ books. (Query: was any of her family at her funeral? Audiobooks make searching hard, and I can’t find out if that was mentioned.) It's not unfair to hate the FUCK out of JB for pulling such a horrible, awful, LAZY move. I didn’t cry when it happened. I actually laughed quite a bit, maniacally, because it was that much of a train wreck. I'm not crying now, either. I'm just so, so tired. RIP Murph.

Granted, I haven't had to wait for a Dresden Files book like this before. Skin Game had a very neat ending, whereas this asks way, way, way more questions than it answers, which is probably more par for the course in this series? But now my two favourite characters are out of the field and may never come back, and I'm just so fucking tired and disappointed, and tired of being disappointed. I don't know whether it's worth staying invested in the vague hope Jim Butcher will start giving a shit about anyone other than Butters, but I can't see the next book being much good when Thomas and Karrin won't be there. When Karrin may never be there again. When I don't even know if the next book will show up, or if there'll be another hiatus resulting in a mediocre story.

I'm predicting that there'll be a Murph-centric short story in the near future that'll probably be a "gotcha!" to all the fans like me who fucking hate how BG turned out. Either it'll finish her off entirely or hint at a resurrection, which may or may not come. Either way, it won't justify her death. It won't make this better.

If I wasn’t as invested in Karrin, I’d like this book more. I can understand if people like it, and there are definitely some good things about it, but it’s hard to appreciate those bits when there’s such a massive pile of stinking shit sitting smack bang in the middle.

#dresden files #battle ground #battle ground spoilers

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1198

Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? No. Most of the merch that had been put out when I was still into YouTubers were always underwhelming and overpriced, anyway.

Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? Eugh, I don’t like oatmeal. Ate it everyday for breakfast as a kid and I just want nothing to do with anymore.

Have you ever left a note in a library book? No. I’m pretty sure that counted as vandalism or at least under some kind of violation, so I never did anything to my borrowed books beyond reading them.

What time of day do you prefer to wash your hair? There’s no time of day for me; I just wash it whenever I feel like showering.

Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Just a couple times when I was in like middle school but it was all very superficial stuff that I never think about.

Have you ever taken a photograph with a celebrity? If so, did it turn out the way you wanted, or do you wish you could retake it? Nah. I freak out about the idea of meeting celebrities and always turn down or pass up any opportunity I get lmao. I don’t handle nervousness well so I don’t trust myself to be able to behave or speak properly.

If you could move out of your home country permanently, would you? If so, where would you go? Yeah, anything to get out of this shithole. I’d love to move to Canada.

Is there a celebrity that everyone else seems to love, but you find totally overrated? Why is it that you don’t like them? Taylor Swift. Her music’s just never fallen under my personal preferences, but I don’t actively hate on her or bash her when there’s been no reason to.

If you could volunteer for any charity, which one would you choose? Do you think it’s more important to help humans, or are animal and environmental charities equally important? I don’t think acts of charity should be compared. Personally though, I tend to lean towards causes for animals.

Do you prefer holidays where you relax, or actually do things? My family alwaysssssss makes sure our itineraries are absolutely packed when we go on vacations. Seems like a waste of money to travel to a new place just to stay holed up in our hotel room.

Do you think that after we die our spirit is still alive? No, I don’t believe in those to begin with.

Has anybody ever told you that you could be a model? Yeah, usually because of my build. I hate posing and being in front of a camera, though.

Do you use different kinds of moisturizer for different body parts? ie. hand lotion for your hands, face cream for your face. Or do you just use one moisturizer for all body parts? I don’t use skincare products, though I should probably start because my skin is finally biting me in the ass and giving me breakouts 23 years later lol.

Have you ever felt like you were someone’s rebound? Nope.

Has anybody ever broken up with you over something really pathetic? What was it? Have you ever been dumped in a disrespectful way? (eg. through text, through a friend..) I wouldn’t say it was over something pathetic. She had her reasons and I respect that. Doesn’t mean I can’t resent her.

Did you have a lot of role models as a kid? Not really.

Do you feel like anyone looks up to you? Why or why not? I don’t know, but this isn’t a compliment I get a lot either. I don’t actively try to be a role model, so I don’t care about maintaining such an image.

What was the last thing you found offensive? My mom often throws around subtle homophobic remarks in passing. She knows I hate them because I shoot her a glare every time she does it, but for some reason she never learns...

Who is the nicest person you know? Angela.

Do you feel safe in your country? In a country where the president is a blatant liar, misogynist, has anger and cursing issues, and enables extrajudicial killings? Safety is a dream here.

Do you feel safe where you live? Very technically speaking, yeah I do since it’s a gated village so nothing ever happens here.

Have you been falsely diagnosed with something by a bad doctor? Not necessarily misdiagnosed, but I’m pretty sure I was prescribed the wrong set of medicines for my UTI last year...nothing came out of taking those pills and I felt just as sick (and dead) as I was after a couple of days. The only reason I got better was Angels’s mom is a doctor and gave me the right meds to take, which worked on me within a couple of hours.

Have you ever had a doctor refuse to treat you? No.

Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): WarioWare is suuuuuuuch a weird game haha. Doesn’t stop me from enjoying it, though.

Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightning before? Not that I know of.

Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Gary from Spongebob.

Do you like marshmallows? Haaaaaaaate them. I never got used to its weird, sticky texture so I always take them out when they’re included in like drinks and desserts.

What is your favorite flavor of candy cane? I don’t consume candy canes much. Too sweet.

Have you ever fostered an animal? Nope.

Do you still take hot showers when it’s hot out? No, I want the water to be as cold as possible.

When writing $ sign, do you draw one line through the S or two? I do two, though I rarely have any reason to write down the dollar sign in general.

What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn’t have? We weren’t allowed to have dogs as kids because we “wouldn’t be able to take care of them” – which they were right about, anyway. But we have two now, so it all worked out in the end.

List three people you’ve had crushes on: Gabie, Andi...and that’s it, really.

Have you ever thrown up from cramps? No. Fortunately my period cramps have never been that bad, and the only time they can be a headache is if they’re the leg crampjp that sends me waking up in the middle of the night.

List three people you had a hard time forgiving. I don’t really forgive. If someone fucks up badly enough that I feel the need to cut them off, that’s pretty much it for me.

Who is the most spiritual person you know? I don’t know.

Would you ever start a vlog? Sure. I’ve always wanted to try it, but I don’t have a decent vlogging camera and am not invested enough in the venture to spend on one. In general I’m also not comfortable being in front of the camera, as I’ve already shared several times here. Vlogging does look fun though, and I definitely would’ve already given it a shot if only I felt more comfortable.

Are your dreams coming true yet? Some of the short-term ones, sure.

Do you struggle with depression? I go through phases of it, but I’ve never been formally diagnosed just because I’ve never booked a trip to the psychiatrist.

Are you haunted by your past? No

What medical conditions do you have? Do scoliosis and lactose intolerance count? Those are the main issues I have.

Do you use a Magic Bullet? Why did I think this was a vibrator...? Anyway, I looked it up and no, I’ve never used one.

What does your apron look like? I’ve never had to use one regularly.

What are your favorite spicy foods? Curry, tteokbokki, ramen, samgyeopsal with ssamjang, spicy fried chicken.

Which do you like better: being an adult or being a kid? Being an adult has a lot more freedom to it even though I have to go through heavier and deeper shit, so it’s still more worth it to me.

Were you excited to be a teenager on your thirteenth birthday? I was heavily depressed back then, and was for a while, so I didn’t have any feelings about turning 13. I don’t even remember my birthdays up until the 15th.

Did you feel insecure in high school? In the first half, yeah. But I started opening up more and gaining friends by junior year, so at that point I wasn’t feeling too shy anymore.

Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? I hate this question that I am simply ignoring it.

Who was the biggest bully in high school? My school didn’t tolerate bullies so no one ever dared to be one, in the grand scheme of things. But back in kindergarten Kaira used to love targeting me - she was my big bully before she became my friend, lol.

What was your favorite class in high school? History, of course. I personally didn’t like literature but I enjoyed English classes, just because it was easy and was a guaranteed A+ in my report card.

Would you rather have a daughter or a son? Daughter.

Have you ever written to an advice columnist? Nope.

Have you ever had a doctor not believe what you told him? Not really, but I’ve had a doctor be a total asshole towards me before.

If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? No.

Do you like Lisa Frank? No.

What gives you nightmares? I don’t really get nightmares.

Were you ever hospitalized as a child? Nope. I was hospitalized one time, and I had been 11 then.

Did you get senior pictures taken? Yeah, for both high school and college.

What color is your bicycle? The family bike is blue and silver. Not that I could ride it, lol.

Did you ever have to take home a fake baby in health class? No...is that a practice in other schools? That’s so weird if it was.

Would you rather wear ivory or white on your wedding day? What color will your bridesmaids wear? White. Ivory can be for the bridesmaids, actually.

Would you rather have a swimming pool or trampoline? Swimming pool. Trampolines are neat, but I would get bored of them so quickly.

Do you think babies are cute? For the most part yes, the only exception being if I have to be exposed with a baby/toddler that is prone to screech-crying. My patience is an extremely thin line when it comes to children like that lol and I FEEL BAD for feeling like so... but I just can’t deal with harsh sounds like that one.

Do you dream about the future a lot? I guess I daydream sometimes but it’s nothing obsessive.

Do you think about your past a lot? I’ll daydream or feel resentful sometimes, depending on what or who I’m thinking about lol. But I don’t stay in the past for too long.

How good are you at living in the moment? I’m a lot better at it. It’s nice to be in the now.

Have you ever questioned God’s existence? I did starting when I was 10, and I also disowned my religion by that time.

Vanilla frosting or chocolate? Chocolate foreverrrrr.

What’s your favorite foreign cuisine? It’s always a three-way tie among Indian, Malaysian, and Thai.

Have you ever moved to another state? No. We don’t even live in states.

Did you do anything productive today? Well I had work today, so yeah I’d say I was. I had two meetings and worked on a bunch of spreadsheets and decks, so it was a pretty productive day.

Can you say the alphabet backwards? Nope.

Do you like flowers? Sure, but I’m not obsessed. It always feels nice to receive them, though.

Have you ever thought you were gonna die? Every single time I get catcalled by men I always have the fear that they’d go all the way and drag me away to my death. That’s why I’m usually in shock whenever it happens and I’m never able to retort.

What kind of mood are you in today? Super relieved because it’s Friday. A bit guilty because I had Starbucks delivered when I had already spent a lot this week, but I keep telling myself I deserve it after working all week haha. I just wanna enjoy my coffee and salmon dill sandwich in peace lmaooooo

What are you craving right now? This salmon sandwich I ordered, so I’m hella glad I got it.

Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance? Maybe shove, but not punch.

What is worse, physical or emotional pain? Physical. My pain tolerance is extremely low, lol.

Have you ever walked in on somebody doing something… questionable? I don’t think I have.

If you were to make videos on YouTube, what would they be of? I think just doing the trendy games like the Lie Detector game would be fun haha. I wouldn’t take it too seriously.

Posting pictures of yourself in a bathing suit on the internet - ok or not? ...It’s 2021.

Do you typically laugh when somebody falls down? If it’s a close friend or a relative I’m close with, yeah. Anyone else I would immediately try to help.

What is the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched? Eraserhead or Under the Skin, which I didn’t even bother finishing.

Your opinion of Katy Perry, please? I like her older songs.

If you could say anything to your Mom right now… what would it be? Stop acting like a brat when you don’t get your way. You’re literally reaching 50.

#survey #surveys

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aleksanderrs · 4 years ago

Text

introducing ; 𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒌𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒏 .

( herman tømmeraas , cismale , he/him , aquarius , 21 ) i just spotted aleksander ‘ aleks ’ thorsen at the beach today . don’t you know them ? they live down by the rocks and usually hang out with the stoners and outcasts cliques . from what i’ve heard , they can be impulsive , but they’re also honest . i always think of them when i hear hell is where i dreamt of u & woke up alone - blackbear and tend to associate them with bruises and scratches decorating pale white skin , a backpack filled with narcotics , flicking off the cops on the freeway with a smirk on your face .

note that this is a pretty triggering intro ! i’ve tried to put a tw before any bullet that mentions something triggering , but i may have missed something . if you do read this intro , read it with caution please , as i wouldn’t want to trigger anyone !

tws : foster care system , violence , injuries , drug and alcohol abuse , shooting resulting in death , suicidal thoughts

stats

full name : aleksander carter thorsen peters

nicknames : everyone calls him aleks , like …. everyone . some people call him sander and he’s fine with this one too , but usually just aleks tbh

gender : cis male

height : 5 ′ 10

age : 21

birthday : february 5 , 2000

zodiac : aquarius sun , aquarius moon , scorpio ascendant

right handed or left handed : right handed

eye color : hazel , shooting more towards green , but shifts colors with the lighting

hair color : naturally very light brown , nearing more towards dark blonde , but he always dyes it a super dark shade of dark brown or even black . you’ll never catch him with that light ass hair of his tbh lmfao

piercings and tattoos : he has a septum piercing he hides by flipping it upwards whenever he feels like it tbh , literally a fuck ton of tattoos ! he has a pretty decent stick and poke on his left ankle he did himself when he was like sixteen that says ‘ aurora ’ ( twin sisters’ name ) , he has one that reads ‘ murphy , 1961-2021 ′ on his inner right bicep ( will get into that later in his intro ) , he has these fingers tattoos on his left hand , this tattoo on his inner left bicep , ‘ livet er nå ’ on his left wrist ( which means life is now in norwegian ) , a little pitbull face tattoo to honor an old dog he loved so much named pawly , ‘ 2000 ′ ( year he was born ) in the middle of his left arm , ‘ oasis ’ diagonally on his right arm right above his wrist ( fave band there guys ! ) , an aquarius symbol on his right ring finger , honestly a bunch of random ass small aesthetic tattoos ? probably a little alien , a mini drum set tattoo , a random small thunder tattoo ? probably the word ‘ fuck ’ somewhere like .... idiot who gets a lot of random tattoos idk what to say , literally is probably a centimeter away from losing his shit and impulsively getting a face tattoo he really doesn’t give a fuck anymore tbh KJVNDVJFV

languages spoken : english , norwegian , basic spanish , but wants to learn it fluently

sexuality : bisexual / biromantic

place of birth : long beach , california

hometown : literally everywhere , no permanent hometown tbh

last four songs listened to : faint by linkin park , supersonic by oasis , mama by my chemical romance , torture me by red hot chili peppers

character inspo : a mix of chris miles and james cook from skins u.k , lip gallagher and mickey milkovich from shameless u.s , callie adams foster from the fosters , eli ‘ hawk ’ moskowitz from cobra kai ( season 2 hawk )

backstory

so aleksander , or aleks as he prefers to be called , was born six minutes after his twin sister aurora , to two norwegian parents ( julie and anders ) , both twins being the first american born in their family . his father was a no show from the start , and his mother was something else . him and aurora endured their mother’s heavy drug abuse , living in a crappy environment with an actual crackhead , until she was deemed unfit to take care of them and they were taken from her by child protective services when they were seven , instantly thrown into foster care . his mother didn’t care enough to ever even get them back , signing away her parental rights , and choosing drugs over her own two children . aleks hasn’t seen her since , and has no desire to ever see her again at all

as a kid , he was pretty soft . he didn’t like mean people and was fairly sensitive and highly emotional , two things that you literally cannot be if you’re a foster kid , which , unfortunately for aleks , was exactly what he was . basically exactly how you could picture a foster child’s life really . him and aurora managed to stay together for three years until they were separated from each other at ten years old

i guess you could say this is when things changed drastically for him . he assumed they might get reunited eventually but it never happened . he would cry himself to sleep every night because of how lonely he felt and he actually had no friends at all . if anything , the kids at his home would constantly make fun of him for being so sensitive and crying so easily . he was completely on his own , and really sad

he came to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t really survive if he continued letting his emotions get the better of him . by the time he was twelve , he altered his personality drastically and changed altogether . what really happened is that he let his anger and resentment get the better of him

he just became super fed up with how fucked up the system is , and how literally no one wanted to adopt a kid his age ? the lack of sympathy from his fellow foster ‘ siblings ’ , and a mixture of everything going on around him , he kind of gave up and turned into this version of himself that took shit from no one . he never stayed in a foster home for more than nine months regardless of whether he behaved or not because something always seemed to come up for some reason ? this of course , gave him no real stability .

he got thrown into a foster care family , the johnson’s , when he was fourteen , and for a while , it seemed like a pretty top notch foster home , definitely the best one he’s been in by far . i say for a while because shit went down hill pretty fast , literally in less than five months . aleks had an unlikely friendship with the foster parents’ son , kyle . kyle was four years older than him ( eighteen ) but it seemed to work at first since they shared the same room , until one day , they get into a pretty heated argument at school ( kyle is a senior , aleks is a freshman ) . to this day , aleks genuinely doesn’t even remember what the argument was even about , but this was the argument that flipped his life upside down more than it had already been flipped

! violence and injury tw for the next four bullets , read with caution or skip ahead if it will trigger you ! they’re outside getting into it , petty ass verbal argument tbh , when kyle strikes him right in the face . doesn’t really end there though because this grown ass eighteen year old man dead ass starts beating his ass . actual understatement , like , beating his ass like he’s getting paid for it type shit . he can hear people around them screaming out ‘ fight fight fight ! ’ but it’s really , really not a fight though ? like it’s just this eighteen year old beating the living shit out of a fourteen year old kid , a literal fucking child

eventually when it’s over , kyle threatens him . tells him that if he says anything at all , he’s going to make sure he gets sent to a group home or frame him for something he didn’t do to get him sent to juvie . aleks is seriously just laying on the floor , holding back the urge to cry , injured as hell , wondering where the fuck that came from . it was just so random ? he really thought he was friends with this guy and he just gets his ass beat over an actual fifth grade argument . he’s been picked on before , even shoved or had sour fights with people before , sure , but he’s never in his damn existence been beaten like that before . super low point in his life because it’s the first time he genuinely got his ass handed to him and then some , but definitely not the lowest point

when he gets back to his foster home , he tells his foster parents he was jumped . makes up this entire story from the crack of his ass . it actually makes him physically and emotionally sick to sleep in the same room as kyle , but he tells himself it is what it is . he doesn’t rest that entire night . the next day though , he waits until kyle is sound asleep to get up from his bed beside him and hover over at him , watching him snore soundly . a million and one thoughts run through this kids head , but it’s mostly just hurt , anger , disgust , and this sick need to get back at him . it’s this fight in his head , one voice telling him to let it go while the other voice screams at him to fuck him up . aleks momentarily decides on taking the higher road , knowing it could get him into huge trouble if he lays a hand on kyle , but that decision to take the higher road vanishes when he looks up above the fuckers bed and see’s the mirror that hangs on top . he stares at his reflection , spotting his bruises , the swollen bits of his face , the scrapes and cuts , how fucked up he looks , and he acts completely on impulse , his anger getting the better of him . aleks grabs kyle’s soccer trophy from on top of his bed stand , lifts it up above his head , and smacks him right across the face with it . this obviously wakes up kyle instantly , but aleks has the upper hand , since kyle is laying on his bed , half asleep , and without a weapon . aleks starts fucking him up with the thing , you can hear kyle’s screaming loud and clear , and it’s not long before kyle’s parents come rushing inside , obviously pulling aleks right off him , and well , you can kind of see where this is headed

moral of the story , aleks is considered a high risk foster child with that little stunt he pulled . his first actual offense , but it still gets him sent to juvie for three days , and that’s really just because the judge is being nice considering his situation ... i don’t even think i need to describe what juvie was like because like we see movies y’all we know JKFNDJF . he broke kyle’s nose , scratched his cornea , and left him with multiple injuries . kyle’s claims don’t help his story either . he tells everyone that aleks is psycho , that he’s wrong in the head , has some serious anger issues and ‘ attacked him out of nowhere when he was just trying to help him ’ , makes him out to be the biggest bad guy in the book , conveniently leaving out the part where he fucks him up with his fists at school . with the squeaky clean record kyle has , no one really cares for aleks’ side of the story at all , especially since he claimed his injuries were from getting jumped . from that point forward , he knows for a fact he’s never getting adopted , and , as sad as this may sound , he doesn’t even care anymore ! end of violence and injury tw !

actually hurting someone the way he did kind of ignited something inside him he didn’t even know was there . of course after a certain age , he grew a much tougher shell and stopped crying about everything , stopped being so damn sensitive , but he’s never laid his hands on anyone before until he met kyle . he wasn’t proud of what he did , it made him feel like shit inside , dirty in a way , and it didn’t give him any sense of accomplishment or bring him any joy , but .... it kind of awakened him to all these different ideas , a different mentality , gave him a feeling of power and superiority he’s never felt before . at that point on , he began thinking ‘ every man to himself ’ , very much katherine pierce from the vampire diaries mind . he does what he does to survive and he doesn’t care who he has to knock down . no one ever cared for him , he stopped caring for people – that’s that .

it took everything ( like dead ass everything ) , to convince the judge not to put aleks in a group home . he was , thankfully , placed in another foster home , but with much higher restrictions than his last . it was school and back , the doors were locked at 9 pm , bedroom doors included , windows sealed shut .... just bad , but it beat being in juvie , so again , he told himself ‘ it is what is it ’

began acting the fuck out . new home , new school , he became the bad kid your parents warned you about , begged you not to hang out with . skipping class , a nasty smoking habit , talking back to the teachers – he actually stopped giving a fuck , and his behavior just worsened as time went on . despite his own birth mother being a drug addict , he did the same shit . he turned to drugs , alcohol , and violence , mostly . hanging with the wrong crowd , slick ass mouth , not afraid to punch someone , on some illegal shit , but , he became very street smart and learned to keep his shit ‘ low key ’ as he called it , really .... just not getting caught . he was barely barely passing school , just enough so his ( current ) foster parents wouldn’t bug him about shit . eventually moved to another home without as many restrictions and decent living , really , really just tried to keep a low profile all while doing hood rat shit on the low #hannahmontanawho?

! drug abuse and drug mentions tw for the next three bullets ! he really , really began to rely heavily on drugs and alcohol . started off with weed , but escalated from there . adderall , xanax , oxy , coke , mdma , even ketamine ... really any drug you can think of , all tried by the time he was sixteen . his top three favorites quickly became coke , ketamine , and obviously weed . aleks thinks he has the whole situation under control , swears he’s become a master of deceit , but it’s only really a matter of time before shit catches up to you , right ?

he’s sixteen when him and a couple of his friends decide to drive to santa monica just for the fuck of it . they swear they’ll get him back in time , all with the idea to get really fucked up by the beach and go on an adventure . only problem is they get too fucked up and attract too much attention up to the point of getting caught . four teens running in different directions from the cops , high as fuck .... lovely tbh 🥴

again , you can kind of see where this is headed .... him and another guy were the unlucky ones , of course . aleks gets caught with only a joint on him , but tests positive for a bunch of drugs . it’s already his second offense too . he gets four days in juvie this time , drug counseling once he’s out . the only problem is no one really knows where he’s going to get placed after this , though he’s pretty sure it’ll be some high restriction group home , but very surprisingly , he’s wrong ! end of drug abuse and drug mentions tw !

the day he gets released from juvie is the day he meets a man named murphy peters , or my favorite person ever ( what aleks will soon come to think of him ) . murphy isn’t really too sure about taking him in until he gets told ‘ well if you don’t take him i guess i can just send him to a group home ’ . they just look at each other at that moment , aleks’ eyes filled with unshed tears , beat up and tired , and murphy turns back to the guy and legit says ‘ nah , don’t even bother . just a few weeks , right ? ’

he’s super shut down emotionally when arriving at his place . murphy is a single foster parent with an old , really friendly pitbull named pawly for company , no other foster kids in his apartment . being tossed around so much , aleks assumes it’ll only be a matter of time before he fucks up and gets sent somewhere else . that’s how it always seems to go down anyways , and he did only say a few weeks after all

but things take an unexpected turn for the better on the second day he’s there . three in the morning , he’s awake but the lights are turned off , pitch dark . he randomly hears murphy open the door and pretends to be asleep . a part of aleks feels like this might get dark very fast . after all , he lives alone . he’s a single foster parent , and aleks has lived through enough in the system to know how fucked up it is . the last thing he’s really expecting is for murphy to shake him roughly like ‘ wake up kid , wake up , i know you not really sleepin’ ! ’ so he kind of just sits up and turns on the light like um .... it’s like three am , and murphy is pacing back and forth around his room like ‘ aight , i figured it out , kid ! ’ and aleks is just like haha yeah cool ..... again , it’s three am

strangely enough , murphy starts telling him his life story , through and through and aleks can’t help but think how this old man he met two days ago figured all this shit out . it makes him angry that he’s apparently so transparent ( he’s really not , murphy is just next level ) . truth be told , he wants to swing at murphy , and he knows it’ll get him into deep shit , but he does it anyways . imagine his shock when this old man blocks his punch and manages to slam dunk him back onto his bed . he’s just like what the fuck aren’t you like eighty KVBFDJ

moral of the story is they get into an argument and aleks eventually tells him that the reason he’s so angry is because he ‘ can’t beat up everyone he hates , you included ’ ( half true , but definitely not the only reason he’s so pissed at the world ) , even more random when murphy is like ‘ i’m gonna teach you some healthy ways to let out that anger , be ready at ten am , kid ! ’ and aleks really thinks he’s making fun of him so he’s like ‘ yeah , okay .... fuck you old man ! ’ as murphy makes his way out

but ... he’s not talking shit ! ten am on the dot and he’s getting dragged to what he thinks is a gym , but it’s actually a dojo . he thinks murphy is talking out his ass when he tells him he’s going to teach him karate , and enroll him in boxing classes for the summer . he’s just wondering how this old solitary man is gonna even teach him good karate to begin with , but he soon learns that the old saying don’t judge a book by it’s cover is pretty much murphy to a t

he is right though . he starts boxing and karate and it does help him a lot ! he realizes how much doing these things gets his mind off everything . even though he’s basically ‘ fighting ’ it brings him a strange sense of peace , and surprisingly ? discipline too . he knows this whole thing is temporary but it still changes his mindset a lot . he mostly begins to focus on physical activity and becoming the best at what he’s doing rather than his old bad habits like drugs and alcohol , stealing , any type of petty crimes he used to commit . at the time he didn’t want to admit it , but murphy was definitely right . this was for sure helping him take out all the anger he has inside , all without doing things that could get him arrested

and him and murphy start to really bond too . they both like the same bands , they’re both aquarius’ , similar tastes in tv shows and movies , they both have nearly the same sense of humor , murphy was even a foster kid like him who out grew the system , but again , aleks really tries to not get attached because he knows he’s just being nice , but he really really starts to fuck with murphy . deep down in his head he’s like ‘ i kind of wish he was my dad ’ .... making me emo and shit smh

when school comes around , beginning of his junior year , he manages to convince everyone to let him drop out and get his ged . school really just isn’t for him and it never has been , being in a place with a bunch of other teens for like eight hours for five days a week gives him anxiety , just drains his social battery completely . he does drop out , but he’s pushed so roughly by murphy to get his ged , he manages to pass the test by late november , basically graduating over an entire year ahead of his actual class

and life seems to get better from there ! murphy eventually tells him he wants to make this a permanent thing . aleks gets so happy he actually bursts into tears 🥺

the entire process takes a lot longer than necessary though , especially with his record . in the beginning , they can’t find his actual birth certificate . his actual birth father , for some reason , refuses to sign away his parental rights at first ( aleks is like bro i literally hate you .... sign the fucking papers ) . kind of starts to seem like the whole universe is against him . every time the coast looks clear and it seems like they can go through with the adoption process , something happens and delays the entire thing . it actually takes him over a year until he finally gets legally adopted by murphy , when he’s seventeen . actually the happiest day of his life

things only seem to get even better from then on out . he gets his driver’s license , his tattoo artist license in california when he’s nineteen , starts working at an actual shop in venice beach when he’s almost twenty . he’s not the best at first , but not terrible . eventually , he becomes really really good though . he basically paints , listens to music and does a mixture of boxing and karate during his free time . he tattoos and pierces people for income , starts saving up because he really wants to drive down to mexico one day , with murphy in his rv . actually the road trip of his dreams !

but , remember when i said it kind of seems like the universe is against him ? 🥴

it’s february first of this year , four days before his twenty first birthday , and nine days before murphy’s , when him and murphy get into a fight . aleks can’t even recall what the fight was about , but he gets so angry , he takes murphy’s rv and drives to god knows where . he gets really drunk one night and starts doing a bunch of dumb shit , but his dumbest idea has to be stealing a backpack full of diamonds from these two guys . gets chased by them for a moment , but manages to get away , all while being told ‘ you’re gonna regret that shit so hard bro ! ’ . in his defense , he had no idea the backpack was filled with diamonds , he just liked the way it looked because it was a kipling ? he liked the little monkey keychain ? imagine his surprise when he opens the thing and see’s probably at least half a million dollars in diamonds . he’s just like wow that’s crazy .... i’m gonna drive back home right fucking now . four , almost five years of sobriety .... thrown down the toilet when he gets drunk , but he tells himself it was just a single slip up . that he’ll do better

he gets back home february sixth , the day after his birthday . spends his actual twenty first birthday passed out and hungover , asleep on the bed inside the rv . he tries walking past murphy as he’s outside wiping down his car , hoping he can just pass by him without being questioned , but of course he’s wrong . another fight in aleks’ eyes , but it’s really just murphy bitching and questioning him because he cares about him , because he’s obviously concerned that he’s been gone for the past five days , phone off and everything . it starts escalating until aleks eventually screams at him and tells him that he needs to ‘ stop pretending like he actually cares about him when all he feels towards him is pity ’ which , kind of just shows that he never really got over his trust issues and general trauma from being in the system . and there’s just a moment of silence before murphy is like ‘ i don’t know when you’re thick headed ass is gonna realize i’d take a bullet for you if it came down to it ’ and of course , aleks doesn’t believe him ! now fast forward to another half second of arguing until murphy’s words are actually put into action

! guns / shooting resulting in death and panic attack tw , please skip past this bullet if this triggers you ! they’re outside when a white van drives by , he can clearly hear an angry familiar voice shout ‘ i told you you were gonna regret this ! ’ , a gun pulling out from the window crack , and he gets so nervous he just freezes on the spot . he knows exactly who it is – it’s the guy he stole the backpack from like , two days ago . aleks knows what he’s going to do , but he can’t seem to move . he really thinks he’s going to die , until this man literally steps right in front of him , and , just like he stated not even a whole minute ago , actually takes a bullet for him . gets shot right in the chest , and by that time , all the neighbors are outside , calling the police . the area is too heated , so the van drives off quickly after missing the shot , no license plate or anything so it’ll be harder to identify who it was . you can imagine how traumatic this moment is for aleks , and the saddest part ? he really thinks murphy will somehow magically make it , like it’ll be some type of miracle all over the news and such – but he’s wrong . murphy bleeds out right in front of him , aleks doing everything in his power to try and stop his bleeding , but there’s really nothing else that can be done . the last two things murphy tells aleks is to ‘ please take care of all the clown paintings around the house ’ and ‘ never lose them , don’t let anyone take them , keep them no matter what ’ and he’s pretty much gone before he can tell aleks why . he gets so so nervous , he doesn’t know what it was at the time , but he starts having an actual panic attack . all his neighbors coming up to him like ‘ oh my god kid , are you okay ? ’ and trying to help the whole situation like ‘ help is coming right now ’ but it’s kind of like aleks can’t hear a word they’re saying ? like his heart is just beating so fast and he’s suddenly sweating so much and he can barely breathe . it’s like his body is there , but his soul , his mind ? gone , panicking , hyperventilating . everything from then on seems like a blur . getting told murphy’s dead in the hospital , which he definitely already knows . the police statement he gives , half there , half not . that day , it’s like a part of him vanished . he really was not the same ever since ! end of guns / shooting resulting in death and panic attack tw end !

he panics , hardcore . the first thing he does when he gets home is instantly take all his clothes , murphy’s computer , and general important things into the rv . he doesn’t know why murphy is so fixated on the clown paintings , but of course he grabs all twenty of them , he puts those in the rv as well , connects murphy’s car to the rv , and just starts to drive , far away from venice beach . like half a million dollars in diamonds inside a backpack on top of the passengers seat , too traumatized to stay in murphy’s apartment . he just starts to drive , with the intention of going to mexico , but then his dumb ass realizes he doesn’t have his passport on him . he keeps driving until he reaches san diego , and that’s the story of how he ends up in sunhollow

he genuinely doesn’t know what to do from that point on . he pawns the diamonds and purchases an rv site and gas /electric for nearly three years , so he doesn’t have to worry about about rent for a while . yes , he’s really just living in his damn rv because he doesn’t know what else to do and he terrified . he ends up in the rocks , the rougher part of sunhollow . for the first few days , he’s petrified , super afraid the guys who ended murphy are going to find him . thankfully , that doesn’t happen , but he’s still paranoid about it

he actually cries like a baby during murphy’s birthday on february tenth . if he was still here , he would be turning sixty . imagine how awful he feels , that his actual real last conversation with him was an argument .... he hates himself tbh

from that point on , all the progress he’s made gets flushed down the drain . the only positive thing about the whole thing is that he manages to get a job in this new city in half moon ink as a tattoo artist and piercer , with his prior experience . besides that , it’s all shit . he’s living in an rv , he doesn’t know what he’s doing or where he’s going with his life , he’s scared , and the worst part of all ? he starts abusing drugs and alcohol again , heavy this time . all his sobriety and hard work all these years ? completely gone

aleks really said ‘ fuck self love , we’re doing all the drugs ’ after murphy died . he’s just super not okay about it because he knows he’s gone because of him , because he couldn’t keep his damn sticky fingers to himself . he’s basically spiraling super hard now , and he knows wherever murphy is that he’s not happy with what he’s doing , but he can’t seem to stop . it’s like once he started using again , there was no going back

so he keeps doing hoodrat shit tbh ! his dumb ass ends up getting caught with resins of cocaine in a bag , on february twelve , literally on his birthday month . the offense wasn’t that bad because it was just coke residue , but it’s still basically a felony , and with his past record , he gets actual prison time . he was going to be in prison for a whole two months , originally three , but he got off lucky . however , with good behavior and community hours , he ends up in there for only a month , got out recently on march fifteenth . he’s doing community hours and getting drug tested by his p.o , he’s under house arrest too . he can be out between six am to six pm , but if he’s not right back in his trailer by six pm on the dot , well .... i think you can figure out what happens

he’s barely getting by really , known around town as trailer trash for obvious reasons , literally currently wearing a fucking ankle monitor . i don’t really think he cares about anything anymore ? like he’s just so done with it all . he didn’t even flinch when he got caught , didn’t try to run and willingly gave in ( which helped with his case but ) , like , that’s how done he is . genuinely didn’t care that he was going to actual prison . he just does not care . he’s barely living , one day at a time

i’m gonna end his backstory here , below are some headcanons !

headcanons

! drug abuse , suicidal and death thoughts tw ! this is kind of sad , but he’s reached a point in his life where he doesn’t really care if he lives or dies . in fact , he spends a lot of his time thinking about how he’s going to die , when , if it’ll be painful or not .... really really depressive and dark suicidal thoughts . the only thing is that despite everything he’s gone through , aleks doesn’t have it in him to actually commit suicide . he thinks about it constantly , thinks about getting run over by a car or drowning or shooting a damn bullet through his head , literally any type of death , but he would actually never pull through with it . he wants it to happen , but he doesn’t have it in him . this is a reason why he abuses drugs so much at this point . of course he likes the high , but in the back of his mind , he’s really really hoping he’ll take so much , it’ll kill him . that way if he dies , it won’t look intentional , just like your typical overdose . like , his heavy drug usage is literally a cry for help . he really doesn’t care if he takes it too far , he actually wants to take it too far always , but he never seems to overdose . he’s mixed a bunch of stuff before , but it just doesn’t happen ? in a way he feels he’s cursed , because he can’t even overdose and die properly . again , his idea of the universe being completely against him ! end of drug abuse , suicidal and death thoughts tw !

he actually .... doesn’t have a smart phone ! no bullshit , has some crap flip phone and a government phone he uses to speak to his p.o , that’s it . the only smart type of technology he really has is murphy’s 2018 mac book pro and a smart tv he has set in his rv . he rarely gets close to anyone , but on the rare occasion that he does , if they ask for his number , no bullshit , he gives them the number from pizza hut , has it memorized and all . you have to be really , really special for him to give you his number . the only people who really have his number are customers ( people he tattoos , and does piercings for ) like , that’s literally it . isn’t part of the gc ( the ic chat on discord ) , doesn’t have an instagram , twitter or any type of social media , actually old school as fuck , which is wild , considering he was born in 2000

he has a fuck ton of cds ! literally no one has cds anymore but he has so so so many . oasis , red hot chili peppers , my chemical romance , sleeping with sirens , arctic monkeys , yes , asking alexandria , the list goes on .... so many cds because this is really all he does in his rv . play a cd and start painting or sketching some tattoo ideas . he loves music a lot and considers it an escape , even though he doesn’t have a musical bone in his body and doesn’t play any type of instrument , but he just loves music so much , literally always listens to music no matter what he’s doing . his favorite band is oasis , murphy put him on that band . they’re favorite song was supersonic and they would listen to it together on repeat forever while driving , jamming to other oasis songs on the road as well . aleks listened to supersonic on repeat on the ride from venice beach to san diego . he cried the entire way .

he’s like ..... a kleptomaniac for real . he’ll walk into a clothing store with a large hoodie on , grab twenty different shirts , go into the dressing room , put on ten of those twenty shirts , slide his oversized hoodie on top , and walk right out . sometimes he won’t even have any real reason to steal stuff , he just does because he’s bored . will go into a store and take something he doesn’t even need , surprisingly has never been caught . very reckless of him considering his situation , but again , he just doesn’t care anymore . he spends a lot of his money on drugs , so he’ll steal basic necessities sometimes , like toilet paper , tooth paste , soap , shampoo and conditioner . the weirdest thing he steals hands down is like .... family pictures of people he doesn’t even know ? like it’s so weird , he’ll jack a wallet , take all the money , and realize there’s like a family picture in there , the wife , the husband , their kids , a dog . weird as fuck , but he takes the money and family picture and throws out the wallet ? again , super weird , but i think never really having a legit family and losing the one person he loved unconditionally who believed in him caused this ? he’s just like you know .... what let me live through the eyes of these people <3 super fucking strange , literally has a few pictures of random ass families he doesn’t even know at all just stuffed into his glove compartment , for no reason at all .... fucking weirdo tbh

another fun fact is he has hypermobile shoulders ( or double jointed shoulders ) . he realized this when getting handcuffed once , his arms behind his back . he thought to himself ‘ i feel i can bring my arms above my head to bring my handcuffs to the front without breaking my arms ’ surprise , surprise , he definitely could ! does that weird shit and brings his entire arms from the back to the front while holding them , he said undercover contortionist here !

this is a wild headcanon , but remember those twenty clown paintings murphy insisted aleks never get rid of ? entire story behind those things . so murphy ? actually won the powerball in 2015 . no lie , magically got all numbers right , won 238 million . with federal withholding and taxes and all ? still left murphy with a stacking 101 million dollars . he spent less than half , leaving him with exactly 64 million dollars . now you would expect him to start living a glamorous life after that right ? well wrong ! he remained humble as ever, bought an rv and the car he wanted , payed off his bills , donated some money to charity , but continued living in his hood ass apartment in venice beach , kept quiet about the entire thing , never told a single soul . he’s the type of old school guy that would rather keep his money under his mattress rather than in a bank , doesn’t trust banks , only had a debit card because it was absolutely necessary , and a credit card he never really used , really just to build decent credit . he knew he couldn’t empty his entire account in one go , so he emptied it , little by little , gradually with time , until he eventually had all 64 million dollars in cash , all one hundred dollar bills . he knew he couldn’t store the money in a duffel bag like an idiot , so what did this man do ? literally .... put the money inside the paintings . no lie , inside the paintings . he knew no one would ever wanna steal a hideous clown painting , he was smart about it . each painting is stored with 3.2 million dollars inside , all one hundred dollar bills , meaning each painting carries exactly 32,000 one hundred dollar bills inside , tightly packed together so they all fit , wrapped and all . now really , really stop to think about this ..... aleks ? actually has 64 million god damn dollars inside his rv , stored inside those hideous clown paintings , and the most wild part ? he has absolutely no idea at all . to him , they’re just ugly ass clown paintings that weigh a ton ( because they’re stuffed with money , aleks ! ) . crazy , right ? everyone in sunhollow thinking he’s dirt poor trailer trash , without a nickel to his name . shit , he thinks the same thing too ! positive he’s gonna die broke as fuck and alone , but little does he know ? man is carrying 64 million in his shitty rv , and he has absolutely no fucking clue at all . definitely going to accidentally find out one day ( but that calls for a future self para tbh )

murphy had no intentions of spending all the money on himself , planned to donate the other half and spend the rest living his final days in santo domingo , dominican republic ( literally .... that’s how humble this man is ) . around that time is when he started fostering aleks though , and after the first few months with him , he knew , right away , that he was going to give that money to him one day . didn’t tell him about it because he knew it would freak him out and he wouldn’t stop asking about it , but he knew all that money would be his . stored it all away in those terrible clown paintings , specifically because he knew no one would suspect a thing . wanted to tell him about it , but passed away before he could . aleks still doesn’t know what’s in those paintings , has them stacked away somewhere because he thinks they’re so ugly , but would never throw them away because it was murphy’s last wish . the day he finds out what they actually have inside though ? his life will do a whole 360 . again , i’m gonna work into that though

people just think he’s trailer trash tbh and he does nothing to prove them wrong . i think his reputation just follows him around . lots of people don’t bother to get to know him and he doesn’t really bother to get to know people . he’s a big ass loner , spends nearly every single day alone minus when he’s at the tattoo shop . lots of people are really intimidated by him , especially with all the rumors about him , and that fucking ankle monitor tbh , but he doesn’t care , doesn’t do anything to try and stop what people think . he’s like if people wanna think i’m trailer trash whatever i don’t care , and he really , really doesn’t

he’s actually kind of a low key hoe ? bisexual as fuck and will hook up with just about anyone . it’s wild though because he’ll fuck you and kind of just disappear ? half the time he doesn’t even do it on purpose , he’ll kind of just dip without giving you his phone number or even wait for you to wake up . like you’ll maybe wanna make breakfast for both you guys , but you look to the other side of your bed and he’s no longer there . no phone number , no way of contacting him , kind of just a ghost . he never let’s people come over to his place ever ( because .... rv tbh ) so it’s not like there’s any way you can really see him again if you wanted to . unless you randomly see him somewhere , but odds are he’ll disappear into the background before you even really get a chance to talk to him . gives him this asshole reputation , but the truth is he just doesn’t want people getting too close to him out of fear that they’ll abandon him . you’ll think you’re starting a lovely friendship with him or even just a great hook up and he’ll randomly just ghost for like six months 🥴 never see him again type shit

he actually .... doesn’t really like being touched at all ? it’s weird because he likes sex a lot and doesn’t mind being touched everywhere in that moment during the heat of it , but like let’s say afterwards maybe you wanna cuddle ? you wanna greet him with a hug ? a little kiss on the cheek ? he’s not comfortable with that . he doesn’t mean to be an ass about it , but he actually physically cringes when someone just greets him with a random hug without any type of warning . will literally push you away and be like ‘ please don’t touch me again ’ . maybe this has to due with his childhood in general but like .... do not greet him with a random hug or kiss on the cheek ever because he will literally disappear so fast , push you away so quickly . if he initiates it , sure , but if it’s just random from the other party , he’s not gucci with it . i think if he finds someone he actually really cares about and vibes with he would be okay with physical affection ( example , he let murphy hug him all the time ) , but like let’s say he just meets you and you wanna go in for a friendly hug ? he’s gonna take like three steps back . makes him look like an asshole , but he really can’t help it . he doesn’t like being thrown off guard like that , strangely feels like he doesn’t have control of the situation ? he’s super weird tbh . he’s fine with a fist bump , or a quick handshake though

he hates mind games ! hates them . he’s definitely not the type of guy you can give a million hints to and he’s fine just figuring them out and going along with it . he doesn’t like indirect people who say one thing but mean something else and say this with hopes that you ‘ catch on ’ , he hates that difficult shit . he will catch onto every single hint you send , know exactly what you want too , but he’s not going to do anything about it . he wants someone who can be blunt and upfront with him , someone who knows what they want and shouts it to the world , someone who will tell him what they want from the start , no sugar coating , no beating around the bush , no mind games or backwards flirting . he’s a very blunt person , will tell you what he wants right off the bat without even blinking , doesn’t believe in the will they/won’t they bullshit . you’re either upfront and straight up with him , or you can play those mindgames for like , fifteen minutes with him before he ghosts you quick as fuck . like you want him to be super unattracted to you ? play mind games with him , beat around the bush , and hint at stuff while never directly telling him what you want . watch you never hear from him ever again tbh

he actually did half the tattoos he has . he’s become a very skilled artist , really good at sketching , painting , anything involving art with his hands . it’s relaxing to him . he hasn’t done any type of boxing or karate since murphy died , but he can very easily pick up from where he left off . he has a black belt , very good at both things , but has been avoiding it since the whole thing with murphy went down

he actually has undiagnosed bipolar disorder and even ptsd , especially from that bullet . he doesn’t really know this , but even just the sound of a gun going off can trigger him , take him back to murphy’s backyard , blood everywhere . it’s never happened to him before thankfully , but it’s a possible idea for a future thread or even self para . he has ptsd over lots of things that happened in his childhood and teen years , but a gun shot would probably really trigger him . for his bipolar disorder , he has a mixture of both manic and depressive episodes , but mostly manic ones . he’ll be awake for an entire week and not even really feel tired , fake elevated happiness , but it’s hard for him to notice he even has a problem with how heavily he abuses drugs . being high all the time never gives his brain a moment to think

literally getting drug tested every other week , but he’s still doing drugs ? he’s currently barely smoking weed because he knows that stays in your system forever , but drugs that flush out in just a couple of days or don’t even show up ? he’s all for it ! catch him with niacin , cranberry pills and juice , and cleansing pills like , two days prior . he hasn’t failed a drug test yet but he’s still doing drugs . actual dumb ass criminal mastermind ? like .... the lengths he’ll go to get high but not get caught ..... go to fucking therapy and rehab aleks holy fuck

murphy’s old pitbull ended up dying at seventeen years old , in 2018 ! no one thought he would make it for so long , but little guy did . aleks still remembers the pitbull , has a little pitbull small tattoo somewhere on his right arm in honor of this dog . his name was pawly

despite the fact that he hasn’t spoken norwegian in over a decade ( last time with his sister ) , he still vividly remembers it , since it was basically his first language . like , he claims he doesn’t remember it anymore , claims he forgot , but if someone just randomly starts speaking norwegian , his brain would instantly put all the words together and he would start speaking back fluently . you can’t forget what you fully learned , aleks !

a part of him wants to reconnect with his sister . he hasn’t seen her in over a decade , has no clue where she’s at , if she ever got adopted or if she’s even alive at this point . he really wants to find her but doesn’t know where to start ? little does he know she’s literally living in sunhollow too ( shoutout to aurora thorsen sparks )

really , really wants to be a vegetarian , later on a vegan ! he loves animals so much , has seen so many documentaries where he knows fucking animal slaughterhouses and meat is like the number one cause of the green house effect ( especially slaughter houses , watch cowspiracy on netflix to get an idea ) , but he’s a broke ass bitch right now and just eats whatever , when he’s even hungry . he always tells himself that if he ever has money ( HAHAHA LITTLE DO YOU KNOW ALEKS ) that he’s definitely going to become a big ass vegan . loves cows so much , would dead ass go ‘ moo ’ if he were to ever meet one and would probably be upset if they don’t moo back at him 🤡

he has never left california , literally ever . he’s been nearly all around cali , but has never left , not even to another state – it’s legit all he knows . he really , really wants to travel , take a road trip down to mexico ( literally even knows some okay spanish from being friends with so many mexicans and central and south americans ) like , he just really wants to go anywhere . he’d like to visit his parents’ hometown , a little town in norway named stavanger . he wants to go all around south america , buenos aires , rio de janeiro , lima , he just wants to go places and see life from outside the shithole he’s been stuck in since forever , and one day he will do it ( when he finally finds that fucking money damn ) . if he could choose to live anywhere , he would probably wanna go to his family roots , in norway . he already speaks the language so it should be fairly easy ( kind of wild how he wants to do all this yet he wants to die at the same time .... sad boi hours tbh )

may not look like it , but he really can kick your ass if he wants to ( that karate / boxing in him be like 😜 ) . if you see him from far , he looks like a little soft angel ( baby face that will never go away ngl ) but don’t let his physical appearance fool you ! he will dead ass high kick someone in the face if he has to , no remorse . he isn’t as violent anymore compared to when he was a teen , but if he feels like he’s going to be attacked or feels like you genuinely want to physically hurt him , he won’t hesitate to fuck you up

even though he’s grown a tougher shell over the years , he’s very low key still a softy . deep down inside , he’s still that little kid that would cry whenever people were mean to him . he can be very sensitive and compassionate ..... but on the inside . obviously he no longer bursts into tears like he used to as a little kid , but contrary to popular belief , if you really get to know him , he’s soft . shows with how much he loves animals , and it’s weird because he doesn’t like being touched unexpectedly , looks like a bad ass and acts like one , but deep down ? soft ass heart , too soft for this world , needs to find the right person to actually connect with and cuddle gdi

he has the tiniest little scar , right below his right eye , where kyle decked him ( left handed punch ) . it’s really barely even noticeable , and lots of people who have short conversations with him won’t even realize . if you’re talking to him for a while , and really admire his face though , you’ll notice it . again , not a huge scar , not super prominent , really blends in with his skin , and usually something most people miss , but it’s there

i’m gonna end this here because this is long and i’m going to leave connections to brain storming , but below is his birthchart !

#hqclique.intro #foster care system tw #violence tw #injury tw #death tw #guns tw #shooting tw #suicidal thoughts tw #alcohol abuse tw #drug abuse tw #blood mention tw #i feel this deserves sooo many tws #lmk if i'm missing one!!#this took me an embarrassing amount of time tbh i'm so ashamed damn #( queuekachu ! )#mental illness tw

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bittysvalentines · 5 years ago

Text

You Can’t Hear My Soul

From: @eatallofthepumpkinthings

To: @corgiberus

Rating: T

Tags: Soulmate AU, Angst, mentions of anxiety, mentions of loneliness, mentions of defamation of character, mentions of paparazzi being rude, OC, ASL/RSL/Sign language, NHL Chowder, NHL Whiskey, Open Ended, mentions of Zimbits

Note: Sorry I can't write fluff! I hope you like it anyways.

Alexei wakes up groggy. The night before he'd tried to stay up until midnight, his heart racing with anticipation, yet he'd fallen asleep at some point. As soon as he is awake enough to realize why he's so groggy, his heart starts running again and his face splits with a grin. Immediately he feels for that space in his head where the connection to his soul mate should exist. When he finds it, nestled just behind his eyes, his heart sinks.

There is wind blowing past his ears and he knows he won't be able to hear his soulmate. He'd hoped that they'd fall into that small statistical chance and have the same birth date. He knew it was unrealistic, but he still had hoped to hear his soulmate. He often stayed up at night wondering if their voice would be airy and melodic or deep in soothing. Would they be Russian like him, or would they be foreign and the translation weird and distressing. Of course, it wouldn't matter if his soulmate was foreign, living half way across the world even – but it would be so much easier if they were Russian. If they were, then the likelihood of them being close by would be higher. They could be together sooner.

His daydreaming didn't matter now. The connection was open. He could tell his soulmate all about himself and maybe they'd come and find him before their 18th birthday. Even if they didn't come and find him – he had to stop himself . There were only 24 hours in the day and he'd already wasted several sleeping.

“HI! I'M ALEXEI!” He shouts into the connection. His cheeks heat. Why am I shouting? I'm going to sound desperate. he thinks.

He tries to reign himself in, but he knows its going to be difficult. “Uh sorry for shouting. I'm just really excited to talk to you. I've been dreaming about this day for a long time. I can't hear you now. But I'm sure in no time I will be able to hear you. We will talk non-stop on your birthday. I just know it.”

He stays up until midnight telling his soulmate everything about his life.

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

Months pass and Alexei's hopes fade. He throws himself into his hockey career again. His father is right, if he's going to transition to the NHL he should do it now. He's been working with agents and talking to teams. By the end of the regular NHL season he's secured his spot with Falconers.

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

Nervousness sits in the pit of his stomach everyday. Without any games to play, he refocuses his energy into learning English. It's profoundly frustrating. After a particularly disastrous lesson, he decides to take out his feelings the only way he knows how – on the ice. He's laces up and heads onto the iced over pond behind his family home.

Who knows when I'll get to do this again, he sulks.

He's skating laps, pushing himself as fast as he can. Suddenly he's tripping over himself. There are words flashing behind his eyes. As he falls forward, he becomes aware that the room where his connection lives is open and the wind rushing past his ears is just from the fall.

“Hello, can you hear me?”

“Are you awake? I hope I'm not waking you.”

“I'm really excited to talk with you Alexei.”

As he catches his breath and tries to push up off his knees, his mind is racing. After a few minutes he realizes he hasn't said anything back and he probably should do that.

“OH, HELLO... Hi. Uh... Happy birthday!” He replies awkwardly.

“Thank you! I'm so happy to finally talk to you.”

Alexei is excited but he is so very confused.

“Why can't I hear you?” he asks.

“WHAT?” his soulmate replies.

“It's like I'm seeing your words. I... I don't hear them. Is there something wrong?” Is he sick? He's heard that colds can sometimes mess up these conversations. Or maybe it's because of his concussion. He hopes that that isn't the case. Concussions have all sorts of long term affects, and in his line of work, its likely he'll have another if not more.

Suddenly he feels a door close. He frantically feels behind his eyes for that space where his soulmate just was but its gone. The void is overwhelming and he's back on his knees. What just happened?

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

Alexei's 19th birthday couldn't come sooner. He's managed to stay up all night this time. Midnight finds him sitting up straight as a board, staring out the window of his senior teammate's guest bedroom. The city lights are stunning. He feels the connection open and he's speaking as fast as he can. Every question that's swirled in his head for the last few months spews out of him. He gets silence in reply and in just a few minutes the door is slammed closed, the connection lost. He cries himself to sleep.

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

When he decides to put his mind to something, Alexei always manages to see it through. Going into the NHL, learning English, making friends with his teammates, becoming rookie of the month – he set his mind to those things and he did them. He makes his mind up to be as positive as he can about his soulmate. He may not know why they've hung up on him, why they've not talked to him, why they haven't tried to find him, but he knows he can't control what they do. He can only control himself.

With his mind set on positive, when his soulmate's birthday comes back around, he keeps it casual and light. He talks about his life. He talks about hockey. He talks about his teammates and friends. Every birthday flies by like this. His soulmate never speaks, but the connection stops closing right away.

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

A few years go by. The Falconers win the cup. But his soulmate never talks to him.

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

There is a movie playing on the plane. It was a tough game against the Capitals and every muscle in Tater's body is beat. He thinks that the movie is a romantic comedy, but he isn't really sure. The actors all seem to be mumbling or talking too fast. Lulling his head to the side, he asks Poots to translate again for the 5th time.

“Dude, Aren't you paying attention?”

“Yes, I'm just very tired.” He gives him his best puppy dog eyes.

Poots smiles. Tater sees a light go off in Poots head and suddenly Poots is climbing over him and stumbling towards the front of the bus.

“Hey who has the remote.” Someone produces the remote up front. Tater watches Poots struggle with it. Eventually Snowy gets up, rather reluctantly, and helps Poots with whatever he was doing.

When Poots returns, Tater turns back to the movie and is amazed. There are words steaming at the bottom of the screen, highlighted in black, and in Russian.

“Now I don't have to translate.” Poots says victoriously. Tater nodes dumbly. This is what my soulmate's voice looked like.

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

Its been awhile since he's thought this much about his soulmate when it wasn't his or their birthdays. Stewing on this new information is easy. Making any sense of it, that isn't easy. He tries to Google for some answers but he must not be using the right search words because none of the search results make much sense to him. Once again he finds himself wondering if there is something wrong with him.

After a couple of weeks, he decides to talk about it. He trusts his friends, and the old guys have worldly experience. Maybe one of his teammates will know something that can help.

He's hanging out with the guys, having a few beers when he musters up the courage to bring it up. They're all silent for a few minutes. It unnerves Tater. Am I the only one this has ever happened to?

“Maybe they speak a different language?” Poots says.

“If they speak a different language he should just hear them in Russian. That doesn't explain why he sees the words and not hears them” Snowy refutes.

“Oh right”

“Ive never really heard of anything like this before” Marty says. A couple guys nod in agreement.

“Maybe they're sick all the time?”

Thirdy brings up, “I read a story once that a guy started hearing his soulmate's voice in a whole different language than either of them knew and it turned out he had a tumor.”

“I just had a scan when I had that minor concussion” Tater replies exasperatedly.

“Maybe they're deaf?” Jack offers.

“What?” Everyone turns to Jack.

“I read a book on historical figures with disabilities and it explained that many deaf people and their soulmate's see each others thoughts.” That makes sense.

He goes home and googles some more.

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

On his next birthday he tries to casually slip in “Are you deaf?”

It doesn't come off casual. Thankfully his soulmate responds.

“Yes”. Then the connection drops.

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

His family and friends start to worry about him as the years go by. Its not uncommon for people in their early 20s to be single or dating around. But when you're close to 30, people notice. His parents set him up with a Russian National figure skater. She's nice enough but they don't last long with their mismatched schedules and distance between them. He hooks up regularly with a goon on the Bruins for almost two years before he gets traded to the Lightning and meets his soulmate.

On home game nights, when his teammates head home to their soulmates, he returns to his empty apartment. The silence is overwhelming. When he feels like the loneliness will crush him, he turns on ASL and RSL tutorials and clumsily signs along.

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

It's the off season. Usually he tries not to schedule anything on his soulmate's birthday. But admittedly he's starting to give up hope. When Jack invites him to his summer home for a cookout and a friendly game of hockey with friends, he accepts. Its made easier by B's promises of pie and jam. He's pretty excited until he gets there and is slammed with regret.

Milling about and taking pictures are several PR people from the Sharks, the Aces, the Baby Penguins, the Belleville Senators, and of course the Falconers.

“Sorry guys, I was just so excited.” He overhears Chowder saying. A few Samwell alumni and Falconers are huddled around Chowder and the keg.

“It's alright Chowder. This is good PR.” Whiskey assures him aloofly.

“Yeah and its not like they are staying the whole party – right?” Poots asks.

They all shrug.

Tater makes his rounds. He gives crushing hugs to his teammates, the wellies, and the players from other teams that he has grown to care about. He shuffles in and out of the house. He helps Bitty keep the tables full – and subsequently helps to empty them of their contents. He plays games on the living room's Nintendo Switch, pongs it up with the Pong Master, and gives piggyback rides to the various little ones. He's enjoying himself, but he can't shake the feeling that he's being watched.

He's pouring himself another beer when he glances up and catches the stare of a Shark's photographer from across the room. The guy is lean, with broad shoulders, and flaming red curls. He's also wearing a serious expression aimed right at Tater. His unnerving blue eyes bore into Tater and suddenly Tater feels very self conscious. He trains his eyes on his cup as he takes a drink. When he looks back up, the photographer's face is buried by his curls. The guy is looking down at his camera. Tater is suddenly filled with the fear that he'd just had his picture taken. For years tabloids have tried to make him out to be a heavy drinker. It wasn't true and he didn't need a photo of him chugging a beer to stoke those flames.

He makes his way across the room and stops a few feet from the photographer. “Hey” he says lamely. He was upset a moment ago but now up close, with the man's pale face turned towards him, he can make out the freckles on his nose. He always had a weak spot for freckles.

He was hoping the guy would at least say hello back. Instead it seemed like Tater had returned the favor and unnerved the guy. His eyes were wide and frantically searching around the room, looking everywhere but at Tater. Finally they seemed to settle on something behind Tater. Turning Tater sees Chowder and his soulmate chatting with another couple.

“Uh, hey Chowder” Chowder turned to Tater and Tater pointed his thumb at the photographer. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out movement behind him, but by the time he had turned back to the photographer the movement had stopped and Chowder had materialized between them.

Then Chowder started introducing them and signing.

“Hey Tater, this is Cody. He's one of our team photographers. Cody this is Alexei Mashkov.”

“Nice to meet you” Cody signed. He offered a handshake.

Tater shook his hand, then he signed back “Its nice to meet you too”

“Oh you know sign language?” Chowder asks exuberantly.

“Yeah, a little” Tater replied sheepishly.

Cody's expression relaxs somewhat, but he still looks apprehensive.

“How do you know sign language?” he asks.

Surprisingly without hesitation Tater responds “I learned it for my soulmate.”

He regrets it almost immediately. He had almost managed to forget that it was his soulmate's birthday. It felt like he just dropped himself in an ice bath. Cody looked about how Tater felt.

Chowder doesn't pick up on the tension.

“Is your soulmate deaf?” He asks.

“Yeah”

“I didn't know that! Are they here with you? I don't think you've ever introduced us! I know Caitlin would love to meet them too!”

“Well I haven't met them myself so.”

“Oh”

Tater wishes the floor would open up and swallow him.

“I'm sorry” Cody signed. His face looks pained, like he felt what Alexei was feeling.

Chowder offers an escape. “We should probably get padded up for the game. I think I overheard a couple guys talking about starting it soon.”

Tater was about to agree, when Cody cuts in. “Wait, can I get a picture of you both before you're all sweaty.”

Tater chuckles at that. “Sure”

Cody maneuvers them to stand beside some of the Zimmerman's tall houseplants and underneath one of the living room's skylights. Tater is a bit disappointed when Cody takes a few steps away to take their picture. Up close he could see the sun bouncing off of Cody's curls. He even got to see his eyes light up when he joked that Chowder and himself should pose like a falcon and a shark respectively. He's still smiling when he aims the camera. Tater is smiling too.

Cody raises his hand and counts down from 5. With the click of the camera shutter Tater sees words flash behind his eyes.

“Wow he really is a sweetheart isn't he.”

Tater's heart jumps and flutters wildly. He watches Cody's face transform from embarrassment to terror, flaming red cheeks turning to ghostly white. They both stand still, staring at each other.

Finally, Tater asks “It's you isn't it.”

“Yes”

#tateroc #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

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foolishlovebugbaby · 5 years ago

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untitled

Summary: when it comes to you, seo changbin will say everything else but those three little words to get his message across- but you’re not complaining.

warnings: kissing

word count: 3.5k

note: it’s 4am, im sick and disoriented from all the paracetamol running through my veins, and I managed to conjure up this very spontaneous and soft and delirious piece because thinking about whipped!changbin makes me all fuzzy. the goal is to get you all fuzzy too- enjoy :) leave a like/reblog/comment so i know whether yall like these kinds of pieces <3

Changbin loves spontaneous food rendezvous at ungodly hours of the night (or, to be precise, morning), which is exactly why you try to remember to keep your phone off whenever you sleep, otherwise you’d be woken from your slumber by a persistent and whiny voice begging you to get tteokbokki and mango juice from the 7-eleven on the other side of town.

That was, in fact, your current predicament because unfortunately for you, Changbin remembers the number to your landline to a T. “Pleasssseee? My treat, and I promise to help you with mechanics afterwards.” He can practically see your annoyed expression behind his eyelids as he peeks at your window from his parked car in front of your driveway. He knows that you desperately need help in mechanics, a subject he prides himself on being unexpectedly good at, and that you won’t be able to resist a tutoring session right before mid-terms. Manipulative, but in an I-just-want-to-see-you-when-are-you-going-to-take-the-hint way.

“I’m suing 7-eleven for their 24/7 policy on the grounds of sleep disruption,” Your sleepy voice softly seethes on the other end and he smiles. “So is that a yes?” He hears shuffling and quiet groans and a fuck, that hurt, before he sees the curtains to your windows open and a very sleepy, angry and disheveled you throwing the middle finger at him. “It’s a fuck you.” He grins. “Take your time, I’ll be here patiently waiting.” He teases and he sees you hang up the phone and stick your tongue out.

He smiles to himself, already turning the heater on in his car because he knows you’ll complain about it being too cold. He’s done this thousands of times, yet each time you protest he can’t help but find it more and more endearing- your cute whine and messy bed hair and the way you snuggle up in his car seat when you ultimately decide to just come down and get it over with warms his heart like no other.

Thousands of years from now, when social scientists research teen slang from the 2010’s and they stumble upon the word whipped, Seo Changbin would be the prime study example because dear lord is that boy whipped for you.

“At this rate i’m convinced you just want to fatten me up and pull some Hansel and Gretel shit come winter,” You get into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt in all your oversized sweater and sweatpants glory, and Changbin can’t help but wish he was the one keeping you warm. But he supposes his varsity sweatshirt that you wear over your tiny frame would suffice for now.

“You and your irresponsible ass has barely been eating for the entirety of this exam season,” He pulls out of your driveway and heads towards the main road. “If anything, you should be thanking me for looking after you.” He smiles teasingly at your displeased, sulking face, and he wants to stare longer to admire your cute sleepy features and small frame curled up in his passenger seat but he’d rather not get into a car accident because he knows you’d kill him if the two of you died in a car crash.

“You’re also the root cause of my sleep irregularities, so thank you very much.” You smile sarcastically at him, and he’d return one right back if it weren’t for the fact that he felt bad about waking you up in the middle of the night. “Is it my fault that I just want to see more of you since school’s been holding you hostage and away from me?” He pouts and sends a puppy eyed look your way, and you huff. “You know you can come over anytime during the week,” You mumble, even though you understand his sentiment.

It was your last year of highschool and soon enough, the both of you would be whisked away into completely different lives. Time was withering away right before you- heck, you swore you just blinked and autumn was already all around you. It didn’t help that your senior year schedule was practically designed by satan to keep the two of you away from each other. But, as the saying goes, if there’s a will there’s a way, and Changbin’s got the will of a thousand spartans.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to distract you from your study time or steal you away from your family during weekends. So now my nights are reserved for you and only you.” He says pointedly as the car nears the 7-eleven too well-lit for its own good. He doesn’t notice the fact that you bite your lip bashfully at his words.

“You? Distract me? In your wildest dreams.” You huff, lying through your teeth, and he immediately thinks In my wildest dreams indeed. The amount of times he’s daydreamed about kissing up your neck as you whined about needing to solve a Chemistry question before ultimately being unable to resist the urge to sit on his lap and kiss the life out of him is too many to count, and he coughs the thought away as soon as it comes. “We’re here.”

He pulls up in front of the store, turning the engine off and taking his keys out of the ignition. “Do I have to go inside?” You whine, reclining further into his red pleather seats and snuggling into the Totoro pillow you purposely left in his car for nights like this. He wants to say no, that you and your adorable ass can stay in the car so long as you’re snuggled up next to him while the radio sings in the background, but he’s a coward that’s not ready to have that conversation.

“Yes, now get out of my car before I lock you inside.” You pout and force yourself out of his car.

“So, is it a tteokbokki or steamed buns kind of night?” He quips from beside you as you two walk towards the doors. It’s bloody freezing outside, and Changbin notices you shoving your hands deep into your pockets as you walk a little closer too him. He wants to hold your hands, but his own reroute themselves and open the doors for you instead. “M’lady,” He says and flashes a smile. You roll your eyes at his cheekiness.

Your eyes sparkle under the bright fluorescent white lights inside the store, “It’s a hot chocolate kinda night,” You rush over to the hot drink dispenser and he chuckles at your sheer cuteness. The cashier is half asleep when he greets Changbin, eyes half-lidded and barely standing up behind the counter, and Changbin sends him a small wave.

“Someone’s tired,” He says, pointing out the obvious. “No kidding. You kids are my only customers at this hour.” The cashier manages to get out as he yawns. “Knock yourself out,” He waves sleepily.

Changbin makes his way for the ‘instant’ aisle, trying to find his beloved spicy tteokbokki pack and some string cheese to satiate his cravings. He crouches down when he spots his favorite brand, ‘Hm, do I want it more saucy or more dry tonight? Decisions decisions…” He thinks to himself. When he finally settles on the less saucy version (of course, because practicality, duh), he sees you emerge from his peripheral vision.

“Got what I need,” You say, left hand carrying your hot chocolate while your arms hold a bag of gummy bears, a carton of mango juice, and a bottle of water while you smile sheepishly at him. His heart is screaming at how cute you look, but his face is mocking you.

“What was that again about not wanting anything from the store?” He says smugly, and you make a face at him. “Oh hush, you’re paying for it so I thought, why not?” You defend and he laughs, making his way towards you. “Sure.” He teases.

You stick his tongue out at him and he puts a hand on your shoulder, turning you towards the cashier. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You two pay for your late-night grabs- well, he pays for everything and you pay with a bright grin and a side hug and a pat on his back (but he’s not complaining)- and he makes his tteokbokki bowl at the designated station before you two walk towards the street bench on the other side of the road.

“Want some?” He offers cutely, cheeks filled with rice cakes as you swing your bag full of goodies back and forth. “I think I’ll pass,” You say with a smile, your eyes bashfully looking away at his sheer cuteness. You cover up your embarrassment with a sip of steaming chocolate.

“More for me,” He shrugs and you both plant yourselves on the bench.

The trees shroud around above you both as you overlook the canal, the city completely dark before you. The street lamps are dim and no cars pass on the road behind you, but the pair of you wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s soothing and Changbin wouldn’t trade these moments with you for the world.

In a flash, he finishes his tteokbokki. “You practically inhaled that.” You say amusedly as he chucks the bowl in the trashcan next to him. “I’m a growing boy, sue me.” He says as he grabs the water bottle in your bag. “May I?”

“It’s yours, stupid. You always forget to buy one and I always have to pick it up for you,” He smiles at that. “Aw, how cute of you.” He takes a swig and notices your ears turn pink at his comment. “What would you do without me?” You say as a joke but he’s completely serious when he says “I have no idea.”

You breathe out a chuckle. “Sometimes I wonder how different things will be once we both get out of this town.” Changbin sighs wistfully at that and reclines further into the bench, not liking the idea of leaving at all.

“Well, I’d like to think that we’d still facetime 24/7, obviously, and I’ll take a drive to your dorm once a week at times like this for a local food trip around your campus town.” His says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, though his mind runs a mile a minute at the thought of losing you because of distance. He looks into your puppy-dog eyes, and he swears the entire cosmos resides in them.

“Promise?” You stick out your pinky and he intertwines his. “Promise.”

“Good, because I won’t be able to live without you,” His gut flips at your comment, and you chug down the rest of your hot coco.

“God, it’s fucking freezing.” You shiver when a gust of wind blows past you. On a chilly November night with absolutely no one around to cringe at his actions, Changbin happily decides to prove to you that chivalry is, in fact, not dead. “You should’ve worn an extra layer, silly.” He takes off his black zip-up hoodie and places it over your shoulders, running his hands over your arms to warm you up. “Better?” He keeps his arm firmly planted around your shoulders, and his face is so close to yours that he can see all your tiny, minuscule freckles in dim lighting. Never mind the fact that he was lowkey freezing in his plain black long-sleeve; he figures holding you close to keep you warm was worth the hypothermia.

He sees crimson spread across your cheeks like a wildfire, “M-much,” You mumble silently. Maybe it was the fact that your eyes twinkled up at him in the moonlight, or the fact that your face was so close to his he could almost kiss you, but Changbin’s heart starts palpitating and skipping beats all at once as he thinks to himself, god, i’m in love with you. Ofcourse, he doesn’t say this out loud. But in another world where he isn’t a coward and timing was on his side, he likes to think that he wouldn’t let you forget it.

He doesn’t know that butterflies swarm your insides and that you think to yourself, I think I’m in love, and that the combination of his intoxicating scent and the way he looks at you as if you were his entire world makes you woozy and weak in the knees. It’s frustrating, really, how two people could be so silently in love with each other and not say a thing.

But tonight was the Night of Nights, and before he knew it, Changbin began leaning closer to you. He doesn’t know what’s taken over him, but he doesn’t do anything to stop it. Because there you were, the girl of his dreams a mere inch away from his lips looking as beautiful as ever, about to be whisked away from him in a few months. Screw it.

His eyes are half-lidded as they flicker between your eyes and lips, and yours mimic his. It’s so agonisingly slow, but the moment he feels your lips on his, all his worries melt away. Your lips are cold but impossibly soft against his own, and it makes his body erupt in tingles all around. Something cheesy like fireworks, but maybe a grenade going off would better describe how his insides feel.

He doesn’t want the moment to end, but you pull away slowly and rest your forehead on his, eyes shut and teeth clamped on your bottom lip.

You don’t know why you pull back, and you immediately miss the feeling of his lips on your own, but Changbin assumes the worst. Fuck, maybe that was uncalled for, his heart sinks to the ground and he nervously chews down on his lip. “Let’s get you home,” He says dejectedly, pulling his forehead away from yours and your sorry eyes meet his. He retracts his arm around your shoulders and stands up, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole, and you follow him silently to the car.

The drive back is anything but comfortable- the air between the pair of you is stiff and and suffocating and every synonym for awkward and you wonder why the hell you pulled away because you know your heart wanted to remain on that roadside bench, kissing him until the sun rose. But you’re stupid, so instead you sit in his car while he silently drives you back home, and every passing minute is another minute away from his lips.

Wordlessly, Changbin pulls into your driveway and his heart sinks down further to the earth’s core. “Sorry for tonight.” His voice is barely above a whisper and his eyes refuse to look at you, which breaks your heart. You want to ramble and say that it’s a misunderstanding, that you have so many bloody feelings for him, but the words get caught in your throat.

“Changbin?” Is all you manage to get out. He still doesn’t look at you, not because he hates you but because he hates himself for acting on his feelings, and instead looks at his lap. Words weren’t going to get you anywhere, you decide, and you suck in a breath. You reach over and grab his face. Here goes nothing.

You kiss him this time, a lot more harder than before, and Changbin swears he’s dreaming. Like, he’s waiting for pigs to fly around in the background and for The Walters to appear in your driveway singing ‘She’s Going to Leave You’ because he can’t fathom a world in which you like him back. But none of those things happen, and you’re still kissing him with so much passion and certainty that he figures even if it were a dream, he’ll take it.

His lips move in sync against your own and makes sure that everything he’s ever held back is poured into this moment. The kiss earlier was in the spur of the moment, but this- this is completely intentional. Maybe that’s why you pulled away. The thought of a kiss between you both simply being just that- a kiss and nothing more. That in the morning neither of you would acknowledge it ever happening. You needed some type of confirmation that things were real; thank the stars you got what you were looking for.

His hands rest on top of yours and he brings you closer, needing more of you and your touch. But the compartment in between you both is a literal cockblock and he wants to rip it out just so he take you into his arms completely. He’s delirious, and he blames you.

“Want to come in? It’s a lot warmer in my room,” You say through soft breaths, the wind completely knocked out of your chest and Changbin places soft pecks from the corner of your mouth to your chin. “I don’t mind.”

It doesn’t take much for either of you to get out of his car and for him to lock it behind you. His adrenaline is rushing and he just wants to hold you and kiss you again, but goddammit, you’re fumbling with your keys not knowing which one is which thanks to the absence of lighting on your front porch- it doesn’t help that he’s decided to plant his hands firmly on your waist as he lightly kisses down the nape of your neck. Fuck you, Seo Changbin.

The door finally opens after what feels like an eternity, and you make it a point to turn around and shush him. “My parents are asleep,” You look at him with alarmed eyes and he raises his hands up. “I can be quiet, but no promises.” The nuance in his statement makes you blush and he sends a cheeky wink your way. You’re mid eye-roll when he grabs your wrist and heads towards your staircase.

You’re both clumsy and haphazard as you walk up the stairs, almost tripping and Fuck, I stubbed my pinky toe, but you both fortunately make it up to your room in one piece. Changbin’s heart is beating so fast that he’s genuinely worried you’ll feel it against your palms when you place them over his chest- and you do, by the way- but you’re leaving sweet kisses against his neck that the prospect of dying from cardiac arrest doesn’t scare him because atleast he’ll die happy.

“So, mechanics later?” He says panting, forehead against yours as he has you between him and your door, thumbs rubbing circles against your waist underneath his sweatshirt and jacket. “Totally,” You tiptoe and kiss him again.

You taste so sweet against his lips, and at first he thinks it’s the lingering taste of hot chocolate, but he’s come to the conclusion that it’s just because it’s you. His adoring, sweet girl that he takes on midnight food runs because he’s afraid of missing her. The girl that can make his gut flip and mind scramble with a smile. It’s cheesy, and you’re slightly lactose intolerant, but it’s the entire goddamn truth.

His jacket suddenly claims domain on your floor and you both kick off your sneakers, never pulling away from each other, and suddenly your bed feels a little warmer than last night. He kisses down your neck, something he’s always wanted to do, and you run your hands through his hair. Insane isn’t enough of a word to describe the way he’s feeling, but the search for a word that can encompass all his rampant thoughts would have to wait.

“You’re the best part about my day,” He whispers into your neck, and you sigh with closed eyes at the feeling. You bite back a smile “I know,”

“I know? I know-?” He pulls back, half-joking and half-serious, and you’re giggle while you run your hands over his torso. “Yes, I know,” You leave a kiss on his jaw, “And you’re my favorite part of the night,” He’s obviously the favorite part of your entire life, but that statement would have to do for now. He nods his head, “I’ll take it.” and goes back to kissing you.

Those three daunting words stuck in his throat- and, frankly, yours- make themselves out of his mouth in different ways because perhaps saying them verbatim would shake his entire world, and he’s not sure why he’s scared because he knows you’d say them back. So instead, through voices barely above a whisper and warm hands running along your body, he tries to show you what those three words really mean to him. He’s sleepy and delirious and he’s honestly convinced he’s dreaming, but it’s the greatest thing to ever happen to him. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to him. You both could come up with a title some other time, he concludes, because kissing you is of the utmost priority to him at 2AM.

Labels were overrated, anyway.

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lucyhq · 5 years ago

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hiiiii loves, i’m aimee and this is my baby lucy !!! pls plot with me while i watch brooklyn nine nine for the 7th time. also this is long bc i ramble a lot, i apologize in advanced… love me?

chicago’s very own lucille “lucy” withers has been spotted on madison avenue driving a ferrari dino 206 gt , welcome ! your resemblance to lennon stella is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-first birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re taciturn , but also being benevolent might help you . i think being a scorpio explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be half smoked cigarettes , middle of the night adventures , behaving recklessly .

trigger warning for: cancer, loss of a parent and eating disorder mentions.

THE BACKSTORY

lucille withers was born on october 31st to jenny and vincent withers. she was their third and final child, the only girl and they couldn’t have been more overjoyed.

they raised their children in chicago with vacation home by the beach in malibu where they spent most of their summers.

the withers family was quite wealthy – vincent being a big time corporate lawyer and jenny being a respectable editor for a fashion magazine. however, the three children were raised as normally as possible ( if you ignored their massive house and the fact that they were encouraged to participate in more sports and activities than they had time for ).

lucy grew up in dance classes, piano lessons, figure skating, she was a cheerleader in school and she spent a lot of time volunteering at animal shelters as her parents instilled in all their children the value of giving back to their community.

when lucy was six her mother became very ill, cancer cells attacking her brain on progressing quickly. they made her comfortable for as long as possible but just three days after lucy’s seventh birthday her mother passed away in the night.

things changed after that, her brothers were constantly getting into fights at school and lashing out, her father was rarely home any more always working and little lucy was doing everything in her power just to keep the peace. the seven year old made herself invisible to not cause any more problems at home.

things changed again a few years later once her brothers left for college and lucy entered high school.

their dad got married. he’d met a woman with two children of her own and vincent withers was smitten, combining their lives with these other people suddenly. he was paying more attention to this lady and her children than he ever had to lucy and her brothers, only her brothers weren’t there to truly experience any of it.

lucy felt like an intruder in her own home, her childhood home – where her mother walked the halls and played hide and seek with them. where her oldest brother punched a hole in the wall and they still hadn’t fixed it, just put a picture over it.

the young withers did the only thing she knew how to do, it had worked for her brothers after all, she became the problem child. they couldn’t ignore her if she was starting fights at school, smoking in the girl’s bathroom and coming home drunk on a tuesday.

all it did though was cause her new step mother to shriek about parenting and blame lucy’s mom. it caused lucy to become more isolated from her family and to lash out more. her dad couldn’t see her cry for help or how all she wanted was his attention.

she couldn’t even count how many times she’s heard “why can’t you be more like lydia.” ( her perfect step sister ).

it got to the point where she began to go on hunger strikes, refusing to sit and eat with her “family” and controlling the only thing she felt she could – food.

eventually they’d had enough and sent her off to boarding school in london. she spent two years there in an all girls prep school. but even they couldn’t control the young withers girl. they viewed her as a lost cause.

by the time she was a senior in high school, lucy withers had a terrible reputation and was back in the united states to stir up all the trouble she could manage. only when she came home it wasn’t to chicago but new york city, where her family had moved during her time away.

the only thing that kept her from completely going off the rails was her ever growing social media fan base, where she posted pictures on instragram of her rebellious lifestyle and impeccable style.

SOME FACTS ABOUT LUCY

with over four million instagram followers to her name, being in new york has aided her social media career, though lucy hasn’t shed her rebellious ways.

she cares so much about people and animals and all living things – she wants to help people. she has a massive heart and honestly, it’s her biggest weakness. if her social media career hadn’t taken off so fast she would have gone into nursing.

her big heart causes her to get hurt easily, she doesn’t like to show that she cares because then it sets herself up to be hurt. she pretends to not care about anything or anyone but when she’s at the nursing home or the animal shelter, you really get to see that soft side of her.

after fainting from mal-nutrition when she was sixteen and away at school, lucy now uses that because she knows it’s a sure way to have her father pay attention to her for a few hours. but also it get’s her out of doing things she doesn’t want to do – lucy will starve herself. it makes people pay attention to her and she takes twisted joy in that.

despite her rebelliousness and how much of a hot mess she is, she takes her career very very seriously. she works herself sick, making sure she’s constantly uploading new content and always looks her best. she’s always looking for ways to stay on top of her game.

she volunteers at the nursing home twice a week, her soft side really comes out when she’s helping the seniors, making them laugh and smile.

lucy is allergic to cats, tomatoes and is lactose intolerant. she’s also vegetarian and tries really hard to eat vegan as much as possible ( when she does eat ).

her brothers have always been her best friends, she would do literally anything for them.

her favourite colour is yellow, her favourite flower is a sunflower, her favourite food is coffee, her favourite song is burning love by elvis presley and her favourite season is summer.

she hates snakes, pickles, when people cuss too much and people spend all their time complaining or talking about someone else negatively.

her bloodstream is 98% coffee

stops to pet all the dogs

is the most loyal friend you will ever meet once you win her over, would take a bullet for you

acts tough but is really very soft

hOT MESS

SOME WANTED CONNECTIONS

people that know her from chicago before she left for school.

her older brothers’ friends – we could make this fun or angsty ( maybe she hooked up with one of them and her brother still doesn’t know ), like it really could be good.

her brothers or step siblings !!

ex boyfriends, good, bad or one sided. give me them all. though bad terms would be fun and maybe they ended because of lucy’s inability to really open up and deal with her shit. he could have gotten sick of her attention seeking. being with lucy would be draining.

some good influences, someone needs to tell this mess to calm down and stop ruining her life all because of things she can’t control.

party buddies, someone she can drag out to the clubs on a tuesday night or is always down to get drunk or high with her.

someone she can just be real with, someone she can talk to openly and honestly, but also someone who does the same with her. they just talk and let each other get things off their chest without judgement or fear they’ll go telling someone else.

maybe a fellow volunteer at the nursing home ??

someone who picks up drunk lucy and makes sure this mess gets to her bed at the end of the night and doesn’t end up drowning in a ditch or something like that

and of course she needs best friends and a squad, don’t we all.

maybe a current boyfriend?

one night stands

a childhood best friend that knew lucy when she was a happy, loving child – was there when she tried to become invisible during her preteen years and then watched her fall apart in high school and progressively get to where she is now.

anything else you might have in mind i’m really open to all ideas tbh

just come love me and lucy

pretty please

#wealthyhq:intro #ooc.

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 4 years ago

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From Delaware With Love

Title: From Delaware With Love (COMPLETE) - Part 2 of SOME SUNNY DAY Series

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Dean x OFC

Summary: Julie and Dean continued... a few months after A View To A Winchester.

Word Count: 7,500

Story Content: language, angst, therapy, fluff, smut, show-level violence

“Sweet smiles. Nothing but trouble.”

Dean mumbled, ankle deep in water in a rather large run off pipe. Someone had thought it a good idea to cut this pipe lengthwise and level with the ground. His boots filled with water. The chilly, dark October night was only going to make this experience more unpleasant for Dean.

He’d slipped into the drainage system seconds prior, missing his foothold. But had managed to remain upright. His arms had flailed about to keep balance. The flashlight, held tight in his hand, scattered its white beam about as if Dean was in a nightclub; instead of preparing to hop a fence into a graveyard.

“Shit.” The sheathed machete dangled and rocked back and forth from one of his belt loops. His heart raced at the adrenaline surge of the miraculous feat of his feet and the soggy state of his socks. The bottom fabric of his jeans darkened and soaked up liquid of a questionable nature.

He huffed, made sure his foot placement was on solid ground, then hiked out the water pipe. The eight foot high chain link fence met him on the other side. The top appeared safe enough. No barb wire. The climb though. He sighed.

“Should have brought some wire cutters.” He grumbled, testing the bottom of the fence to try and pry some of the fence back to shimmie under. “Shit.” An owl hooted somewhere off in the not too far distance. Fallen leaves crunched under and stuck to his wet soles.

His plan of attack was getting worked out when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Can’t let it go to voicemail again. I won’t get a sexy greeting when I get home. Dean clicked the accept button. “Hey, Jules. What’s up?”

“Hey, I’ve been calling you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. You called?” He weighed his options at playing dumb.

A pause. “Yeah, Dean. Like three times. Where are you?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m looking into that thing your mom mentioned to me this afternoon.”

“What thing?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Nooo.” Julie dragged out the one syllable. Dean wasn’t sure who was going to get read the riot act worse, him or Brigida.

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you then.”

“Dean…” She sighed.

He cased the surrounding park area with his eyes, turning a full three sixty. The last thing he needed was for something supernatural to sneak up on him while he was being sidetracked by his lady. Not the way Dean Winchester goes out. He gripped the fence with one hand and gave her his best low rumble, leaning into the chainlink. “You gonna say my name like that when I have you under me tonight?”

She sighed again. “Not if you don’t tell me what’s going on. And, it’s already eight o’clock. What could you possibly be looking into this late for mom?”

A story he’d worked out after the second missed call poured from his mouth. Not a lot of details. Vague. Just enough. The Winchester Way. “Got a call into the night nurse manager at that assisted living home. I’m on my way there now to ask a couple questions. Using one of my bounty hunter covers.” Not a full out lie.

“Oh my God. She roped you into investigating that stuff Gloria told her about today?”

“It’s fine, baby. Really. I should only be another hour. Two at the most. Wait up for me?” That slight hint of a beg would get her to cave. He was sure of it.

Julie groaned. “I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”

Dean whined, soft.

Another pause. “Use your key. Wake me up when you get in.”

He grinned. “Sweetheart, if you don’t wake up when I get in, I’m not doin’ it right.”

She laughed at his cheesiness. He focused on that sound, used it to counter the impending dread of the current situation. “Just take some of the nonsense my mother hears from her friends with a grain, no, a ton of salt next time.” Julie added. “You don’t always have to swoop in and save the day, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And, come home!” She ordered.

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Turned out none of that had been nonsense. Brigida had seen Dean that Wednesday right around one o’clock. She’d come back after visiting her friend Gloria and decided to drop off a tray of baked ziti at his front door. The pasta should have been his clue. Unassuming little witch with her gluten spells.

Rattling on about the visit with Gloria, she made herself at home in Dean’s kitchen. The huge serving of sauce and cheese and carbs placed in front of him was enough for three people. Brigida sprinkled in the conversation over Dean’s feast along with her freshly grated parmesan cheese. Gloria lived in Golden Rays Assisted Living Senior Center. The poor woman had been all upset that afternoon, couldn’t enjoy her visit or lunch. That made Brigida upset by association.

The day before, Gloria had heard a pair of family members of an elderly resident that had recently passed. Gloria listened in on every word all the way from her favorite spot in the commons area. Which, Brigida added, was amazing since Gloria was deaf in one ear. The family was screaming in the hallway at someone in charge, threatening to sue. An insistence continued as they were escorted out. Something foul had been done to their father’s body before it could be removed from the premises.

Dean had sounded deeply apologetic about the situation in between mouthfuls of food. Nodding and chewing. Damn, I would have been such a chubster if Brigida had been my mom. He stopped chewing when Brigida mentioned what Gloria had heard from another resident. The gossip was someone had chewed on the dead body and sliced some flesh from the thigh.

“But, that wasn’t the only time it’s happened, Dean-ah.” Brigida shook her head. “Gloria says some nurses were going on about weird stuff with a body a month ago. The woman had died in her sleep and they didn’t get around to check on her until the morning.” She waved both hands around in shock and disbelief high over her short, stubby frame. “What kind of place let’s someone stay dead in their bed the whole night-ah? I mean, we’d do the vigils in the houses for the dead when I was in Italy as a child.” She made the sign of the cross. “But, those people were dead in their beds on purpose. These nurses are getting paid to do a job and are too busy on their phones. These damn phones.”

Dean tried to steer her away from the technology rant. A common theme in her conversations. He swallowed down some pasta. “What weird stuff, Brigida?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to the other body?”

“Oh. The same thing. The thigh had been cut. Butchered up. Like someone was slicing up a steak for later.” She shivered, another sign of the cross and some mumblings in Italian. That’s when Brigida pulled out that sweet little smile of hers with puppy dog eyes that could give Sam a run for his money. “Do you think you could ask around? You know people, right? All that bounty ‘unting stuff Giulia says you do. You must know people.”

He’d headed to Golden Rays right after lunch. The plan was to go in as a son looking for some long term care options for a sick mother. Along the way he’d scope out the place, talk to some of the residents. That would put Brigida at ease.

These kinds of places were always sad and depressing. The Facility Director, chirping on about the positive aspects of around the clock care, seemed oblivious to the actual environment she was highlighting to Dean. Random wheelchaired residents parked by windows or in corners stared off at nothing. Walkers were used as weapons by the more mobile elders. They’d goad the nurses with the tennis ball covered legs and refused medications. Loud fits of nonsensical outbursts or arguments over a game of checkers could be heard in the commons area over the DIY channel on the television.

“Would it be alright to talk to some of your residents? You know, just to get the real skinny on this place?” Dean asked, flashing the fifty-something woman escorting him around his million dollar smile. “Not that you’d ever tell me a lie, Tameca. But you know… only the best for my mom.”

She tugged and righted her wrinkled pencil skirt. “Well, I can give you a few minutes.” She smiled back and fussed with her hair. “How about I go and get you a packet of information to take home with you?” He nodded. She tapped his forearm. “I’ll be right back.”

Dean sighed, gazing at a nurse on the other end of the room with a couple residents. Nothing had his radar up. His nose twitched at the antiseptic cleaner in the air being used to hide a lingering scent of urine.

“You’re Dean!” The exclamation forced Dean’s head to spin. A woman with a jet black head of hair, coiffed like a football helmet, sat on one of the couches, an arthritic finger crooked in his general direction.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “I am. And, who might you be?” He raised his voice, knowing it was better to assume everyone had a hearing issue in this place.

She gave him a knowing nod and tapped the cane on the carpet in front of her feet. “Gloria.”

“Ah. THE Gloria? Friend of Brigida?” He smiled and pointed to the empty seat next to her. “Alright if I join you?”

“I never turn down the company of a handsome fella.” She grinned.

Dean eased into the couch. “Did Brigida tell you I might be coming by?”

“No. But she’s talked about you every week for the past three months when she comes by for lunch. ‘Dean this. Dean that. Dean’s such a good boyfriend to my daughter.’” Gloria leaned in. “She shows everyone here pictures of you on her phone.”

“Really?” That was a little concerning. “Pictures?” When the hell did she take a picture of me?

Gloria waved his look away. “She’s happy is all. And, wants to brag a little. Don’t be too hard on her. Giulia means the world to her. From what I’ve heard, you make her pretty happy.” Her wrinkles smoothed as she turned serious. “Are you here about what I told Brigida? She said she’d mention it to you. I heard about how you rescued Giulia.” She whispered and fussed with something in her ear.

Ah, one of those ‘I’ll only use my hearing aid when I want to types’. “Yes.” Dean matched her tone. “Did she tell everyone here about that, too?”

“No. Italians only like to hang our clean laundry out for everyone to stare at. Not the dirty stuff.”

Dean chuckled. “Is there anything else you can tell me, about what’s been going on?”

“Well,” she scooted a little closer next to him on the couch and grabbed his knee, “Heard something kind of scary about Night Nurse Nancy.”

Sounds like a character in a porn. “Okay.”

“Freddie… well, he almost checked out the other night. I just got an earful from him. He told me that he was having trouble breathing… real bad sleep apnea.” She pointed to a man who looked to be about a hundred sleeping in a wheelchair.

Dean pointed, brows raised in confusion. “You got an earful out of that man?”

She nodded. “I’m the only one he talks to around here. Everyone thinks he’s a nut job. Anyway, he told me he woke up the other night and thought he was dreaming, when he saw Nancy standing over his bed. She took the damn CPAP machine off his face and just watched him. For minutes. And, then…”

Dean frowned. “Yeah?”

“She licked his face. Said he was going to taste yummy.”

Still sounds like a character in a porn.

Gloria continued. “But, Nancy’s been acting a bit strange over the past couple months.”

“Well, face licking is definitely a contender for strange behavior.”

“Depends on the situation, young man.” Gloria flirted with a wrinkle-laden grin.

Dean cleared his throat.

The old woman didn’t skip a beat in the conversation. “She’s been missing work a lot. Used to be like clockwork. Real dependable.” Gloria sighed. “And, she used to smell so nice. Like begonias. Now, when she comes into my room to help me get ready for bed,” her nose wrinkled up, “she smells like a sewer.”

Pieces slotted into place in Dean’s head. “Would you happen to know Night Nurse Nancy’s last name and when she comes into work?”

Gloria did know Nancy’s last name. It was Kissle and she usually started her shift at six o’clock. Dean said his goodbyes. Gloria teased he should come by one day with Brigida for lunch. The macaroni and cheese they served on Wednesdays wasn’t half bad. Even Brigida ate it. Tameca, the Facility Director, cornered him with a Golden Rays folder before he could duck out and insisted she get his phone number. He obliged, giving her his other, other cell phone contact.

Dean drove Baby to the nearest coffee shop, lugged his business laptop in with him, logged onto the Free WiFi, and did his best Sam impression for a good half hour. Sipping on some black coffee, he used his hunting know-how and skip tracking tools and resources to find out as much as he could about Nancy Kissle. He and Julie exchanged some lively and sexy text messages in between his research. He told her he was out on a quick job, but should be able to swing by her house later. If not for dinner, then most definitely dessert (winky face emoji, tongue licking face emoji).

The information hadn’t been too hard to dig up. Nancy was a little over fifty. Single. Never married. Lived about five miles from the facility. There was no harm in swinging by her place of residence. Maybe he could ask her a few questions. Or do some snooping. He had a hunch, but he needed to be sure. It was almost five. Maybe he’d get lucky. But, his stomach grumbled, so he grabbed a sandwich to eat in the car before he left.

The five story apartment complex looked like any other. Unassuming, boxy and boring, with a worn green covered awning leading to the entrance doors. A horseshoe shaped parking lot wrapped around the building. Dean drove around the lot, slow and determined, until his eyes landed on the license plate attached to Nancy Kissle’s motor vehicle registration. Still here. He parked far away from the puke green compact hatchback belonging to the nurse. He frowned at the similarity in shape and size the suspect’s car had to Julie’s.

Deciding his usual attire would not be too out of the ordinary for anyone to remember if things went south, he slid a hammer into the large interior pocket of his army jacket. Dean was flying by the seat of his pants again. And, he kind of enjoyed it. Baby’s door clicked closed upon his exit.

Enjoyment versus duty. That was the crux of his last therapy session with Tricia that very morning, hours before Brigida arrived. Tricia was a sixty year old licensed therapist who also had thirty years of hunting under her now hung up belt.

Dean pulled his phone out and paced outside the locked doors of the apartment building. He pretended to have a conversation with someone, glancing in the glass doors, until a man appeared in a hurry on his way out. He chatted away into the phone and slid through the space of the open doorway the resident had left in their wake.

The tiny entryway had a wall of lockers that served as mailboxes on one side. The room smelled like dirty gym socks.

Charming. Nothing like Tricia’s place, that’s for sure. Tricia had a condo in Denver, Colorado. Dean got a little tour of her swanky abode in their first telehealth session two months ago. He’d needed proof of her credentials. The diplomas on her wall made no difference. He wanted to see her hunter’s stash, her old tools of the trade. A pull of a safe door, hidden behind an expensive looking painting that pried back from the wall on a hinge, let him peek via video chat at the guns, knives, spell books, and ingredients used to make tinctures and antidotes. There were even a few vampire teeth and werewolf claws in a mason jar. They tinkled against the glass when she shook it. The only things Tricia hunted now were elk. An eight point trophy hung above the wall behind her in the office.

Dean noted the permits and approvals hanging over his head in the apartment building alcove. He also did a sweep for cameras. One pointed at the entrance door. But, lucky him, there was no sign of another one. Especially one pointing in the direction of what he’d been looking for since he stepped inside. Assuring no one was heading in or out, he sprinted to the far corner and pulled the fire alarm. A pitiful dinging emerged from the ancient system. Seconds later, the other alarms in the building triggered and echoed back, louder and with purpose. His eyes darted up the stairwell and then the elevator. Let’s hope Nancy is responsible and follows guidelines in an emergency. Dean started up the steps, slow, feeling that surge of enjoyment pulse through him.

Enjoyment versus duty. He had lists to put together for his next therapy session. Forty three fucking years old and I gotta do homework. Things he did for enjoyment. Things he did because he had to. See if any connected, overlapped. Dean already told her he’d enjoyed hunting. Needed it like breathing. Had grown into embracing the duty and found a carnal pleasure in the hunt at a young age. Tricia already knew the whispered, hero tales of the fabled Winchesters. In fact, having Dean Winchester as a client was like hitting the jackpot. She might write a dissertation about him if he ever gave her permission. Dean wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or a threat.

The question, Tricia posed, was if he could consider himself a good person, not broken, outside the realm of normalcy, because he found enjoyment in the duties of a hunter. There were many things people enjoyed centuries, even only decades past, that had been considered evil, abnormal. If enlightenment and acceptance was possible on a societal level by a large majority, Dean should be able to give himself the same hall pass.

Residents passed him down the apartment building stairwell. Some in a hurry, others grumbling at the disruption. “Wrong way, buddy.” A smart ass, about Dean’s age, tossed the comment out at him.

“Making sure my girlfriend isn’t home, thanks.” Dean mumbled. As he rounded the corner and glanced up, he identified Nancy from her drivers license picture, exiting the door marked “3rd.” Dean slowed as the ample bosomed woman he’d been looking for passed his figure. The stench Gloria mentioned wafted into his nose. Not a sewer. But how would Gloria know that smell or have anything else but a sewer to compare it to? Only someone who’s spent time six feet under would know that smell. All those endless hours racked up, thousands of them probably, surrounded by dirt and rotting corpses. That’s the smell of a graveyard.

Nancy continued down the stairs, not even giving Dean a second glance. A peek down the zig zags, making sure that if he couldn’t see her, she couldn’t see him, gave him the confidence to head through the door into the third floor hallway. A sweeping survey of the hall confirmed he was alone. The order of the numbered apartment doors guided his direction. His steps hurried to the right and followed the bend that turned left. Boots halted at the threshold of 3E. A floor mat covered in cartoon cats chasing balls of yarn welcomed him.

Poor Nancy. He knocked. Waited. Knocked again. Dean deemed the area around him clear with a tilt of his head left, then right, and a tuning of his ears to the sounds of nothing in the hall. He pulled the picks out of his pocket. Fiddling with the pins in the lock, hunched over, for longer than anticipated made his back uncomfortable. An inner debate of a kick down was admonished once the click of success bolted him upright to twist the doorknob.

A meow from a long haired white cat greeted him when he stepped in the doorway. It snaked and rubbed around one of his shins, purring, transferring its fur onto Dean’s jeans. Another orange tabby was not as friendly, frozen in place near the love seat in the living room. Dean took another step inside and the orange cat fled the scene. The white feline bolted after it in what looked like a playful chase. The earthy scent hit him, like compost on steroids.

Dean readied himself with the hammer in hand and canvassed the small apartment. The cat food and water bowls were filled in the living room. He passed by the bathroom. There were self care products on the vanity, all arranged nice and neat. The litter box in a nook in the hallway was clean. What the hell? Maybe it’s not…

A turn of a corner had him in the kitchen. The chest freezer in the spot where a table would normally sit halted his steps. Locked. He aimed and swung the hammer on the tiny combination lock twice. It broke into pieces and scattered on the floor. The contents of the freezer made Dean cringe. “Son of a bitch.” He mumbled. “Poor Nancy.”

Nancy still wore the tattered remains of her bloody nurse uniform. She’d been folded and wedged into the freezer like a trash compactor had given up halfway through. An even more macabre version of a contortionist trick. The ghoul hadn’t even bothered to close the eyes of its victim. Not that Dean had expected something close to mercy from anything supernatural. Her eyeballs were covered in a layer of frost and cloudy. The cat pattern of her scrubs bloody in patches where the monster had been snacking.

He closed the lid, then opened the fridge door. Clear glass storage containers, all from a matching set with pink plastic lids, were filled with, at first glance, cuts of meat, pork. “The fucker’s moved in. And, it likes cats. And, not just as a side dish.”

Keeping Nancy on ice to use her form. Nice and comfy living her life after a couple months. Must have bought the freezer right after she died. A blaring firetruck and sounds of activity from the open kitchen window had him peek down to the parking lot. Shit. Her car’s gone. His watch read that it was almost six. It must have gone to work. Gotta get another lead on this thing and its habits. Routines. Can’t wait here for when it gets back and can’t off it at the nursing home.

A pile of envelopes, bills and paperwork piled up on the kitchen counter got his attention. His fingers waded through, looking for anything out of the ordinary. “Hm. All Saints Cathedral Cemetery.” He studied the invoice. “A mausoleum crypt? Buying a vacation home, too?” He snapped a picture of the invoice to grab the address and crypt location. “Well, I know where I’m going next.”

Now, after tossing the machete over first as a precaution, Dean climbed over the chain link fence, grumbling and cursing. He might be really close to wrapping up this issue. And, dammit, he wanted to get home to Julie. Warm in her bed, waiting for him. Safe.

It took another twenty minutes to search the grounds of the cemetery. Dean tracked down the ten by ten crypt that Nurse Nancy had put a down payment on. The elaborate, gothic stone work and the crumbling mortar of the exterior proved this wasn’t new construction. What the hell? Can you lease these things?

The makeshift crowbar, an iron post loosened from a fence five minutes prior, wedged into the gap between the crypt gate and the jamb broke the seal with little effort. Dean recalled the brother and sister ghoul duo that had killed his half-brother Adam. Need to make sure this is a swinging singles pad and not a home for the fucking Brady Bunch.

The post clanged to the concrete. “Lucy! I’m home!” Dean belted out in his best Desi impression. The machete eased out of the sheath. The swish of the blade swirling in his rotating wrist. It finally settled in position by his thigh. The flashlight focused on the corners of the stone structure, the walls, the ceiling, the ground.

Nothing here. Not yet.

A gust of wind shot past Dean, into the crypt. At least, he’d thought it was the wind for a second. Then Nancy, a crazed look in her eye, out of breath, hair wild, appeared before him in the center of the floor. And smiled.

Her palm connected to his sternum in a classic Bruce Lee move. The force threw Dean backwards out of the crypt onto squishy sod, and thankfully not a tombstone, about ten feet away. He landed arms flailed and outstretched - on purpose to avoid slicing off any important bits with the machete. “Ooof!” Dean groaned. “That’s gonna hurt in the morning.” His flashlight now lost, he rose trying to focus in the dark. The ghoul’s shadow strolled over. “Strong, silent type, huh?” Dean shrugged and wheezed. “Can’t shut me up to save my life.” He gripped the machete like a baseball bat. “I gotta know, though.” He gasped. “What’s up with the cats?” His insides vibrated from the manhandling.

Nancy stopped, a couple feet in front of his figure. Her head tilted.

“I mean is the crazy cat lady thing just a bit? You have a partner in crime helping you out with all this?”

“What? Never been killed by a strong, independent ghoul before?” She finally spoke. Her voice shrill. Cackling.

Dean smiled. “All I needed to hear.” He swung.

And didn’t miss.

When he got back to his car, Dean called Detective Marty Tullman and explained the whole mess.

“Damn, Winchester. Again? If I weren’t as good a cop as I am and seen the things I’d seen, I’d think you were some serial killer baitin’ me along.” Marty sounded tired over the line.

“Saved your life, remember?” Dean reminded.

“Yeah, yeah. So, what I gotta clean up?”

“I tried to clean up my prints back in the apartment. But, in case any get lifted…”

He sighed, “Yeah, yeah.”

“And, the twinsie ghoul is in the crypt for safekeeping. Just so you see it for yourself.” He snapped his finger. “Get those cats some nice homes, Detective.”

The powerful jets of his bathroom shower sprayed hot water with an intense focus on all his aching muscles. He leaned into the heat and wet for a good ten minutes, stretching and grunting, trying to squash the adrenaline surge along with the impending soreness. A helping of pain meds and a beer were taken for good measure. The comfy sweats, his blue Henley, and slippers would be enough for the quick trek to his final destination. He slipped house keys and the phone into a pocket after locking up. Debated, then rounded the front of his house to cut through the neighbor’s backyard. No more fence climbing tonight.

Dean halted at the end of Wes and Samuel’s driveway, spotting the red embers of a cigarette near the back porch, before their motion sensor spotlighted him.

“Hello, Dean.” Samuel crooned his way. A camel colored cardigan hung loose from his shoulders and hunched frame, leaning elbows on bent knees. A puff of the cigarette had it blazing red again.

“Sorry, Samuel. Alright if I head through?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask. Neighbors and all.” He grinned in the golden glow. “You should probably install a gate between your backyard and Julie’s, though. For convenience.” A tip of the head toward Julie’s house followed, along with a wink.

Dean smiled. “Good idea. I’ll run the idea by her. Have a good night.”

As he walked away, Dean heard Samuel mumble, “Not as good a night as you’ll be having, I’m sure.”

Dean crept through Julie’s house, avoiding as many of the creaks in the floor as possible. It was a thoughtful gesture on his part but totally unnecessary. He’d learned over the past couple months how sound of a sleeper his lady was. Out like a light when she didn’t have much to fuss or worry about. Out even faster after a horizontal, or on occasion vertical, sexy romp with him. She mumbled one night, in his arms as she drifted, that she hadn’t slept so well in years. A sense of pride and accomplishment filled him, hearing that.

He slid through the doorway into her bedroom. His eyes caught her luscious frame tangled in a mess of comforter and sheets in the middle of the bed. Such a bed hog. He touched the small lamp on the nightstand to get a better view. His and her house key, and silenced phone, landed on the dresser.

The adrenaline flooded through him again. He wet his lips and strolled to the foot of the bed. Took his time. Drank her in. Ready for me. Her bare shoulders peeking out from the covers indicated she’d gone to bed with not much on, anticipating his return. Her little moans, her version of snoring, increased an octave with each inhale. He waited for it to reach that plateau, crest, and die down again, quiet and calm. He’d gotten used to that little detail, stayed up close to an hour one night to memorize her breathing pattern. It helped his not as restful sleeping habits adjust to hers.

Dean pulled at the comforter with a tight grip. It snagged with the dead weight. The insistence and tugging caused her to moan in her sleep. Dean’s commando cock twitched. She rolled over onto her back, freed the comforter. Feeling like he hit the jackpot, Dean realized he had hooked the sheet as well. Julie rolled to her other side and sighed.

Oh, yes. Sooo ready for me. He peeled the sheet back and away. Saw the slope and crook of her arms hiding those breasts he needed to get his mouth on. The dip of her spine and the curve of her ass and those plump cheeks he wanted to slap. Thighs he wanted wrapped around his ears, blocking out any noise so all he could hear was his mouth sucking and working her pussy into a puddle. The tight cords on the back of her knees he ached to feel clench over his shoulders.

Dean removed his shirt and sweatpants. His cock was now at full attention and already dripping with precum. “Jules.” He whispered, the comforter and sheets now a small hill at the bottom of the mattress. He had to climb over, careful and slow. He slipped onto his tummy and army-crawled toward her.

His hard cock slid and pushed into the mattress. He groaned. She stirred. Another sigh and she rolled fast, flopped onto her back, slapping his cheek with curled fingers and the back of her hand. Dean cursed. Julie snored.

He felt his eyes widen. Her breasts rose with each deep breath. He tilted his head away from her offending arm and slithered over to her chest. He whispered. “You better not slap me again, Jules. Not in the mood.” She moaned, in her dream world, back at him. “Shit. Maybe I am.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. His chin hovered inches above her ribcage. The shadow of his profile covered the rise of her soft tummy. The hunger rose with the travel of his gaze over the solid, protruding hip bones. He loved to gnaw on them before getting down to business between her legs. She was a feast for sore eyes.

There’d still been so much he wanted to explore with this woman. He had to keep reminding himself to believe he had time with her. The safe part, that’s most important right now. Thoughts and visions of tying her up had gotten him hard beyond comprehension. Hell, he even toyed with the offering of Jules wrapping silk cords around his wrists. Pink ones. He’d talked him through how bad of an idea all of that was in front of the bathroom mirror weeks back. There was the potential flashback and trigger of Jules’ kidnapping by the Jinn. None of it would be a wise venture. He couldn’t ask her, even in jest, if she’d be up for that kind of kink. At least not now.

So, the weeks together had been playful, light, and he let her guide him. Watched with surprise and awe when she expressed her cute little dominant side. Especially when his mouth went where it wanted to right now. Or, that time she was down on her knees, giving him the privilege of her mouth on his cock, and decided to slap his ass right as he got close to coming.

As much as he ached to wake her with his tongue or cock deep inside, it was not a good idea.

“Julie?” He whispered, louder.

Nothing.

“Julie?” He nudged into her side with his chin. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

An angry little moan escaped. Grumpy.

He sighed, then spoke louder, with more force. “Okay. I guess I’ll just get dressed and head back home.” He leaned on his side, propped up on an elbow, ready to rock off the mattress, watching for any reaction from her.

That dangerous arm curled around his chest, hooking into his side. “Dean?” she asked, stirring from sleep, eyes still closed.

“Who else would be naked in your bed?” He teased and relaxed into the softness of her body. Her tummy was the perfect pillow for the side of his face. His neck and shoulder wedged against her waist. A nuzzle made her sigh, knowing she appreciated that he took a razor to his scruff after the shower earlier.

He studied her face from his vantage, past her breastbone, caught the lips turning into a smile. “Depends on the night. Have to check my schedule.” She mumbled. “What time is it?”

Dean swiveled his head to read the alarm clock. “After ten.”

“Deeaann.” She grumbled. “Why so late?”

“Shhh…” He dialed down her grumpiness with a handful of breast and the soft rolling of her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You gonna yell at me or let me take care of you?”

A pleasant moan erupted. “Can’t we do both?” She whispered.

He chuckled. “Bossy.”

“Baby.” She countered.

“Oh, it’s gonna be like that?” Dean bolted up, rocked back on his knees, bare ass against his heels. Julie’s eyes bolted open as well. He loved that look of amazement and lust he could conjure. He grabbed her by a knee with both hands, lifted the leg up in the air and swung it around him, scissoring her open like a living doll. Just as quick, he leaned down kissing her tummy. His forearms tunneled under her back between the mattress, lifting and placing her in a more comfortable position now that he’d bent her into an odd angle. Her head flopped by the side of the bed.

She giggled as he cradled the back of her head with one hand and shoved two pillows under her ponytail. “So thoughtful.” She teased.

“I try, sweetheart.”

Julie’s smile softened. Her cool fingers gripped his jaw. “I know.” She lifted off the pillows and seized his lips in a kiss. “Hm.” The sound vibrated in his mouth. Continued to pulse through his skin when she released. “I missed you.”

He grinned. “You just had me last night.”

She shrugged. “And?”

He sat back up between her legs. His knees splayed under her thighs. All of her opening to him. His thumb slipped through the fold, light and teasing. She groaned. He was still sore as hell but he was going to spend at least an hour on her body. “How do you want me tonight? Cause I have all sorts of ideas.”

She bit her bottom lip before speaking, squirming under his touch. “I had a surprise for you. That was why I wanted you to come home early.”

His eyes dipped down to inspect the wetness coating the two fingers he had swiped past the dark curls and through the pink folds. He licked his lips and gazed back up at her face.

“Dean. Shit. I guess it can wait until the weekend.”

“Seriously? You’re going to hit me with ‘had a surprise for you’ and make me wait?” He lowered his voice on purpose. “Come on, baby. What was the surprise?” He searched for her wet hole, found it, and snuck in with a fingertip.

“You made me wait.” She shot back. Dean smirked at how hard she was trying to stay focused and angry. “God, why do you have to be so goddamn infuriating, adorable, and fuckable all at the same time?” She huffed and stared him down with a shaky, crumbling glare.

“Gift.” He strummed her clit with his thumb, found that spot that tapped her like the second hand of a clock. Slight tremors shook through her skin and hitched breath. His mouth betrayed him, confessing, “Damn, I love how your body responds to me. Wanna be inside. Feel you all around me.” He tested her with a soft order. “Grab a condom. You’re closer. And, I don’t want to stop… this.” He thrummed her hard now.

She hummed, thinking. Her chest arched up. “So, maybe then I should give you your surprise?”

“Jules.” He groaned. “Come on, baby. One way or another, we’ve got to shift this into the next gear. Quick.”

“I went on the pill a few weeks ago.” She moaned out.

Dean stilled his movements. “Huh?”

Her panting continued. He watched her try to come down from the arousal. “Went to the doctor and got some birth control.” Her mouth danced around the explanation. “Steve had gotten snipped years ago. I thought… if you wanted… if this was going somewhere… we might want…” She shrugged. “Be closer.”

Dean’s lips parted, listening to her. His hands left the warmth and wet of her. He leaned down, let his hands cage her at the waist.

“I had to get tested, just to make sure, right after I found out what the asshole did.” She continued. “So, I know I’m fine.” Her eyebrows raised in hope.

Dean smiled.

“If you aren’t sure, we can wait until you get tested. I mean, with all your past man whoring.” She smiled back.

“Man whoring?” He chuckled.

“No one is this good without lots of experience.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re pretty damn good. Does that mean…?”

She tilted her head and pursed her lips.

He sighed. “Want to know one of the scariest things I ever did?”

The curiosity won and she nodded.

“Getting tested for every damn STD two years ago. When I moved to Delaware… after…” There were still the secrets he had to navigate through. He’d only told her more about his mom and dad and his nomad existence with Sam over the past month. But, nothing about the supernatural and the Winchester saga. He sighed, hating the need to audit the details. “I figured if I was going to clean slate it, I might as well know if I had anything else to worry about. I mean, I’d had the occasional… annoyances over the years… with all my man whoring as you so nicely put it.”

She giggled, her hands gliding up his arms, muscles bulging, locked straight on either side of her waist now. “And?”

“By some miracle, all good.” He begrudgingly gave Chuck credit for that.

She nodded, the smile growing. “And no one but me since you got tested?”

“Nope. No other pussy has passed these lips or been introduced to my cock.”

She slapped his biceps. “Nice.” Her lids narrowed. “What about ass?”

He laughed. “Nope. No other orifices.” He added as her mouth opened to question again. “Female or male.”

“Oh. Do I get to hear some fun tales?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Let’s see how this goes first?” Dean asked.

Julie nodded, let the words breathe out husky and deep. “Yes. Please.” She removed one of the pillows under her head and got comfy. “Andiamo, Bello.”

Dean gulped, buckled at the elbows and lay prone on top. Staring into her eyes, cushioning into the soft curves and feeling the hard ridges. “Not fair, Jules. You know what you do to me when you start talking Italian.”

Her hands roamed over his shoulders. “You feel so good already, Dean.” She kissed his lips soft and tender. “I’ve been wanting to really feel you since that first night together.”

His hardening cock settled into the warmth, sliding and teasing into the folds with a subtle rocking of hips. “You’re sure?” He asked. “You let me inside like this, I may never come out.” She giggled into her moan. Their lips, wet with the mingling and his licking, slipped over each other. Need. Want. All of her body heating up under his. So close. The thought of being even closer to this woman stilled him for a moment, froze him in the kiss. Should I? Without her knowing all of it?

He knew she felt whatever that was that happened in him. She pulled back. Threaded fingers through his hair and stared into his eyes. Deep. Hard. “Honest? In this moment?” She asked, smiling.

He nodded, those words heard from her often over the past weeks, requesting a glimpse into his thoughts.

“No plans on hurting me?”

“Of course not, sweetheart.” He whispered. “Right through to my bones. All I wanna do is make you happy.” He shrugged. “And, not piss you off too much in the attempt.”

She squirmed and circled her hips under him. “Pissing me off is half the fun, though, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Maybe.” Her motions ignited him again. “God, you’re really gonna let me, huh?” He licked his lips and then hers. “It’s been so long since I’ve done that. Hot stuff isn’t gonna last long.”

“Then enjoy every second.” She mumbled, slid over to nibble on his ear and whispered. “I wanna watch.”

Dean groaned. “Fuck. Really not gonna last long if you keep ordering me around.” He took a deep breath and pushed up into a plank position. Her face tilted up, breath hot, exhaling fast against his chin. Their bodies shifted and eased in place, both of them focusing on the heat of their sex. One hand pushed her bent leg farther up and into the mattress, then stroked his length, still wet with her. “Can you see alright?” He asked.

She nodded, kissing his chin.

He smiled and dipped down to brush her forehead with his lips. His cock slid through her folds, slipping and coating, readying. He knew what he was looking for, of course. Knew her anatomy and proportions, had them seared and memorized in his brain. But he wanted to enjoy the feel of every inch of pink and plush and pulsing flesh. Enjoy every second.

Her hip tilted up, eager. Her face was flushed. She licked her lips and Dean almost collapsed on top of her.

He pressed the tip to her entrance. “This what you want so bad?”

“You know it is.”

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart?”

“Want to feel you. Just you, deep inside.”

“Fuckin’ Hell.”

He moaned and pressed in an inch. His hand assisted in the guidance for another second or two. Then, he let go, balanced above her on locked arms again, his back curving downward in a slalom slope to his ass. His eyes closed, relishing the exquisite torture of skin to skin; the clutch of her walls accepting him; the sounds she made, a little more high pitched than usual.

His eyes opened, catching her staring at his face. He smiled. “Thought you wanted a good view down below?”

“Nothing wrong with the view up here, either.” She urged him down to share a kiss, soft and slow.

He broke from her mouth. “Watch us, Jules.”

She nodded. And he watched with her as their bodies connected. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he eased down, seated into her complete and full. And she gave him the sweetest smile.

“Sweet smiles.” He groaned in delight. “Nothing but trouble.”

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean x ofc #spnfanficpond #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic series

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grizztomysam · 5 years ago

Text

Grizzam College Song Fic AU Preview : Mumford & Sons - If I Say

Angst galore and homophobic slurs present...so just forwarned....

===================

Grizz and Sam finally establish a friendship after being partnered in English class during the start of Grizz’s senior year. Although it skirts the borders of what is deemed platonic. Shared glances after inside jokes are exchanged linger a little too long, accidental and not so accidental touches result in hitched breaths and Grizz preens a little to much whenever Sam looks at his lips when he’s speaking.

Months pass, the duo get considerably closer and Grizz scraps his initial plan to come out in college.

He’s fallen in love, it’s no longer a crush.

He’ll tell Sam his true feelings after their last game for the season and ask Sam to prom.

The night before this was to happen, Grizz is over at Sam’s studying for midterms. Sam says a particularity witty quip to something Grizz can’t even remember but he’s laughing and crying and Sam has somehow straddled him tickling his sides making him laugh harder. And he can’t hold back any longer, flips them both and kisses Sam likes he’s always wanted to. Since the first time he’d glimpsed the blued eyed boy when he was 12.

There too caught up in the moment to see the figure watching and recording from the slit in Sam’s slightly opened bedroom door.

Before Grizz leaves he makes sure Sam will be coming to the game.

“Of course, it’s your last” Sam’s lips are especially red and so inviting. Grizz wants so bad to kiss him again.

“I have something to tell you.”

“So secretive” Sam signs with a soft smirk, eyes shining.

Grizz just smiles back, kisses him gently on the cheek and leaves.

But life’s a bitch. Somehow adverse to letting people be....happy.

Campbell comes into his room a while later, he’s still on cloud nine and can’t seem to fall asleep. But the look on his brother’s face...his eyes have a calculated quiet to them, stark and garish juxtaposition to the smile on his lips, has Sam sitting, nerves electric and hackles up.

“Stay away from Visser, Fag.” He says this without preamble. Says it as if he’s telling his little brother goodnight and not to let the bed bugs bite.

“Why?” He’s learned to speak in controlled tones, volume steady and low. That’s how you speak to a rabid dog, muscle tensed and ready to pounce.

“Because the boy’s got a bright future. Football scholarship and all. Wouldn’t want to be the reason that gets taken away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh Sam, you sure are daft. Let me talk in laymen’s terms. You break this abomination of a relationship you have with Grizz. And I’ll make sure William behaves tomorrow night.”

“Who the fuck is William.” The creeping dread that’s got the hair on his nape standing dissolves his resolve.

“Tsk Tsk, language, Samuel.....You see William is a boy that happens to love the little pills I give him every other week. Can’t get enough of them. He also happens to be on the opposing team playing against Visser tomorrow. A defensive linebacker...big massive boy. One word from me. I don’t know...something about not having anymore of his favorite pills unless he does something to Grizz Visser during game night. Nothing big. A broken arm...leg.”

“I hate you!” He doesn't so much scream it but breath it from every hurting vein in his body.

Because he hates Campbell. With the very fiber of his being he wants to take something sharp and stab it into the jugular of his brother’s neck. Watch him bleed out until there is nothing left but a sunken shell.

“I know...Do what’s right.” He leaves, an almost pitying look on his face, as if this was something out of his control.

“Why...”

He turns back to look...blinks with empty eyes and smiles. “Because I can, little brother.”

Sam doesn’t sleep that night. Gets sick twice at 4 in the morning. Cries silent wracking sobs as he grips the rim of the toilet bowl.

He manages to avoid Grizz during the day. Ignores the texts that pile up. Skips the one class they have together after feigning a stomach ache. Even tho it really wasn't’ pretend.

He arrives home and finally texts back “Sorry ate something weird after you left last...night spent most of the day at the nurses office..I’ll see you at the game tonight”

The answer text is immediate “Awe..I could have kept you company...I can’t wait to see you.”

It leaves a tightness in his throat, so he closes his eyes and tries to disappear into the nothingness for a while. Tries not to feel.

He sends a text asking Grizz to meet him under the bleachers before the game, arrives an hour before to make sure there’s plenty of time for Grizz to sneak away and see him.

He can almost feel the eagerness from Grizz’s text. Pictures his face, all bright eyed, nose scrunched in that adorable Grizz way, eyes crinkled at the corners with a grin.

Sure no problem. I missed you all day.

He wants to run away, far where no one can hear him and he can scream until his lungs burn out and his eyes no longer know how to cry.

Grizz is waiting for him, decked out in his football uniform, hair in that topknot that drives him crazy. He’s all anxious energy and beauty. Sam has to look down pretending to pick at lint from his sweatshirt. Blinks hard and steels himself.

“Hey, you ok?” Grizz has ambled forward from his lean against the wall, eyes concerned, arms offered to hold.

Grizz is going to see right through this whole thing.

He walks pass him and leans against the opposite wall. The worry on Grizz’s face cuts at his heart with a blunt knife.

“You sad?...Last game and all.” He’s stalling but his mind is blank.

Grizz doesn’t push and walks towards him. So close that if he looks up from his gaze that’s now level with Grizz’s chest, all he’d have to do for a kiss was rise up slight on his toes because Grizz has leaned down tilting his chin up.

“I was going to wait until after, but I really want to kiss you right now and I need to say this first.” And Sam is crying because life is fucking unfair.

‘I love--”

“Stop....you don’t” he signs and sobs, pushing the older boy away.

Grizz stands steady, grabbing his face, confusion laced with an unease that has Grizz frantically searching his eyes.

“Sam--what is this?...Last night--”

“Exactly...last night. Was a mistake.” He won’t look Grizz in the eye, instead focusing on his lips

“No!! It wasn’t!”

“Yes...this thing can’t happen. You don’t want me like that..feel for me like that. You think you do but you’ll wake up tomorrow..or few days later and realize all this won’t be worth it.”

Grizz roughly shakes his head at the words, forcing Sam to look him in the eye, hands firm but gentle as they wipe his tears away.

“No” It’s a sharp exhaled declaration,” I’m been feeling this for a while now. And I know you feel the same way--”

“Don’t you dare! You’re telling me how I feel now? What? Because your Grizz Visser?? Star football player..who fucking quotes shit like your from the dead poet’s society. Got girls practically salivating to get you to look at them. And me..the fucking gay deaf kid. Poor little Sam Eliot. You must think I’m so desperate. Pathetic enough to jump at the chance to have a piece of you..huh?? I’m probably some pet project...check off your box for humanitarian electives.”

Grizz stays quiet, frozen shock but visibly flinches at the words that are hurled in a slurred deluge from Sam’s mouth.

“News flash, Grizz, this might be a shocker, rejection is probably a foreign concept but I. Don’t. Want. You!!” he spits it out, tries to sign with trembling fingers that wish to rip Campbell from limb to limb.

He wants to wash his mouth out with bleach.

“This isn’t you..I don’t believe a word that’s coming out of your mouth.” It’s a whispered sentiment as Grizz drops his hands from his cheek, into balled fists by his side and the sudden emptiness in Grizz’s wet gaze is starting to scare Sam.

But he loves Grizz.

Fuck.

He really really does. And he’ll hurt Grizz first before Campbell can touch him.

And Campbell hurting Grizz scares him more.

“Stay the fuck away from me.”

He leaves without looking back.

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

If I say I love you, then I love you

====================================================

This song hurts my insides so good...and le ideas came about. Please listen to this song if you want your heart ripped out and tap danced on.

Just a taste people..got legit concrete ideas of how i want to finish this...So let me know if ya want more.

#Grizzam Fanfic #Preview #Separation and Reunion Fic #Grizz Visser #Sam Eliot #Grizzam

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arazialotis · 6 years ago

Text

The Great Escape - Part 1

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: Around 3340

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Jensen and Y/N have been best friends for life. All through high school they’ve imagined running away and making their dreams come true in Hollywood. But now with senior year becoming a reality will their plans actually follow through.

Edited and reviewed by the fabulous and ever impressive @misguidedconqueress

I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time. This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

***

Language arts was droning. You were sprawled out across your desk, one hand hanging over the edge and the other supporting your head against the insurmountable force of gravity. Some poor sap was fighting the clock to see his book report through the end of class; very possibly summarizing each paragraph of an 18th century novel. Your eyes darted between the clock’s second hand and your teacher, praying that either one of them would be your savior.

Finally, Mrs. Thompson cut him off. “Thank you, Tanner.” She jolted from her desk. “For next class, on deck to present…”

You tuned out, counting down the final seconds until the bell rang. As it sounded, you were already halfway out the door before your bag was packed. You rushed to Mr. Whittaker’s class looking for Adrianna to walk over to the other campus with. You peeked into the classroom and it looked like she was reviewing a homework problem with him. You tapped your fingers on the books you held, barely managing to contain your impatience.

She wrapped her hair up in a ponytail as she came out. “Hey girl! I didn’t see you at Mitch’s party this weekend?” She questioned as you started down the hall.

“Yeah, Jens wasn’t feeling too well so I stayed in with him and we got pizza and watched a movie instead.” You explained.

“Couldn’t have felt that sick if you were eating pizza.” She called you out.

“Hey, I don’t control the guy…” You defended.

“No.” She cut you off. “You just follow him around anywhere and everywhere.”

“Umm.. he’s my best friend.” She shot you a look. “Aside from you of course.” You tried to recover.

“It’s okay. I get it. You two have been attached at the hip since preschool. Once he leaves you a widow, I’ll get more time with you.” She joked.

“Ew! We are not getting married. Just wait until after high school, we will have so much free time, we will see so much of each other, we will be sick.” You giggled.

“You mean if you don’t run off to California?” She asked.

You chuckled. “You know that’s just a dream. I’m gonna get real job… eventually.”

The both of you continued to giggle and gossip as you walked the outside path to the other school’s second building where your shared chemistry class was held. Adrianna stopped dead in her tracks in the lobby, pulling you over to the bulletin board.

“I can’t believe they are doing it!” She exclaimed ripping a flyer of the board. “What? Who?” You were completely lost.

“The senior council! They’re throwing a Sadie Hawkins!” She turned the flyer your way.

“A what?” You repeated, taking the flyer from her.

“A dance, but the girls ask the guys.” She explained.

“So like, do I gotta rent a tux?” You joked. She slapped your shoulder before taking the flyer and pinning it back up. “You gonna ask Mitch?”

“Duh. And obviously you’re taking Jensen.” She predicted.

You scoffed. “Dude, we are just friends. In all of four years he’s never asked me to a dance, so it’s not like I’m gonna ask him. Plus, he’s probably hoping McKayla is going to ask him, or something.”

“You should ask him.” She pushed.

You pondered it, but it seemed to weird. “No, maybe I’ll ask Alex.” She laughed. “Since when did you grow a pair?”

You smacked her back. “Shut up.”

Chemistry flew by as Adrianna continuously passed you notes attempting but ultimately failing to convince you to ask Jay to the dance. You were best friends, you wanted to keep it that way - romance would be the one thing that could mess it up. Another hour passed by and you parted ways with Adrianna to your favorite hour of the day; AP Psych. Jensen was already seated when you slid in next to him. He habitually offered you a stick of gum.

“Adrianna’s pissed we didn’t go to the party.” You commented without properly greeting him.

“Adrianna can kiss my ass.” He lightheartedly refuted, not truly meaning the insult. You knew it was actually Mitch he didn’t care for.

“What’s got you in such a foul mood?” You nudged him with your elbow.

“Did you see this crap?” He pushed the dance flyer your way.

“Yeah. Seems alright. Adrianna's pretty psyched up about it… wait… you’ve never cared one way or another about dances before?” You inquired.

He sighed. Little did you know, this was the year he planned to ask you. For homecoming, he had finally built up the courage only for the opportunity to ask to be stolen away. He figured you probably would ask some jock and pair off with him for the rest of the year. The remaining chances of Winterfest and Prom being taken away as well.

“So you gonna ask Alex?” He grumbled.

“No!” You denied, blush rising to your cheeks. He knew you too well.

He squinted your way as if calling you out. But the teacher walked in before you could further defend yourself.

During the powerpoint you found time to whisper his way. “So, have like twenty girls already asked you?”

“Nah. Only sixteen.” He joked back. You kicked him under the seat.

“Did you say yes to any of them?” You further pressed.

“Y/N and Jensen.” The teacher sounded, causing a pit to rise in your stomach. “As you can see by Y/N's face, her fight or flight response has been activated.” He joked using you as an example. “Adrenaline is pumping…”

Needless to say, you paid attention for the remainder of the class, even when Jensen passed you a note teasing he said yes to only five. You quickly scratched down ‘player’ before focusing back up to the board.

He and you waltzed out of class, you were about to take the path to the busses when you felt Jensen no longer beside you. You turned around to see him waiting in the veranda. You shrugged your shoulders questioning him.

He took some keys from his pocket and twirled them in his fingers. “You want a ride home?”

“Shut up!” You gasped. “You didn’t!”

“Oh yes.” He goaded.

“Well, show me!” You giddily demanded.

He chuckled as you both rushed out to the parking lot. “Let me guess.” You started. “One of those macho f-series. A Texas truck for a Texas guy.”

He stopped. “Not quite.” He pressed the keychain and a forest green Jeep Cherokee honked.

“No… way…” Your mouth hung open before squealing in delight. You ran over to it full, of excitement. “You are so lucky.” You pulled on the driver’s door. “Can I drive?”

“Ah hell no, this is my baby.” He argued, keeping the doors locked. You put on your best frown and puppy dog eyes. “Nope, your pouting isn't going to win this time.” He stood firm.

“Fine.” You scoffed and ran around to the passengers side, hopping in.

Jensen joined you on the driver’s side, starting her up and pulling out onto the road. Your smile spread from ear to ear. “You like it?” He asked.

“Gah!” You gushed. “I love it!”

“We’ll fit in pretty good in LA, I reckon.” He hopefully predicted.

“You're still serious, aren't you?” You doubted.

He thought about it for a few seconds.”Yeah. I think I am.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. Senior year started in a rush, and real life decisions needed to be made. You knew you were behind on college applications compared to your other friends. And as long as you had dreamed about going to Cali with Jay, for a long term future plan, it didn't seem realistic or prosperous.

“It might be nice to take a year off before college.” You pondered. “You know, work, save up some money… get discovered and land a big acting gig.” You laughed.

Jensen paused. “Maybe we should start looking into apartments.”

“This soon?” You could feel your hesitation seeping through.

He shrugged his shoulders. “It couldn't hurt, getting ideas for prices and such.”

“Yeah, okay.” You agreed.

A few minutes of silence passed before he decided to tease you again. “So, how are you going to ask Alex?”

“Stop it.” You pushed against his shoulder. “You know maybe I'd ask you if you didn't have a horrid distaste for school events or a line of cheerleaders who’ve already asked.”

“We’d go as friends?” He asked.

It hurt. You knew it shouldn't. “Um, of course.”

He nodded his head back and forth. “You know, maybe we’ll go…”

“What? Jensen Ross Ackles at a school dance! I won't believe it ‘til I see it.” You joshed.

“Stop it. It's not like Prom or anything. It’s only happening in the cafeteria.” He tried to downplay your taunting.

“I technically never asked you.” You continued playing.

“Well you better get on it, I hear there's a line of cheerleaders somewhere waiting for me.” He smirked.

“Oh my gosh.” You pushed him yet again. “Wipe that grin off your face, I’m not going to ask you.”

***

Three weeks passed and days were counting down to the Sadie Hawkins. You never did build up the courage to ask out Alex and as far as you knew Jensen had not accepted anyone’s offer. You slid into your seat and before he could hand you a stick of gum, you beat him to it. He eyed it suspiciously before taking it from you. He undid the wrapper to find a piece of cardboard with SH? written on it. He amusingly scoffed and folded it back up.

“You dressing up?” He asked.

“You know, I do think I have a pair of jeans without holes in them.” You looked down observing yours. He silently laughed shaking his shoulders. “You know, we could always ditch it too for pizza and a movie.”

“Nah let’s go, it’s senior year after all.” He slid the wrapper into his pocket.

“As friends?” You confirmed.

He stalled but agreed for your relationship’s sake. “As friends.”

***

The night of the dance came by in a whirl. Music blasted through speakers as you danced in front of a mirror getting ready for the night. You found a light rosy pink dress with sleeves that hung off your shoulders. Your hair was up in curls. After applying the last bit of lip gloss, you popped your lips in the mirror before batting your eyelashes.

The doorbell interrupted your solo concert debut; quickly followed by your mother yelling for you. Suddenly, your palms felt sweaty, your heart raced, and butterflies filled your stomach. You held your fists tight together straining a smile in the mirror before gathering the courage to meet your ‘friend’ downstairs.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you saw Jensen nervously standing in the doorway, making small talk with your father. He had never rung the doorbell before; he was not entirely sure why he did so tonight. But when he saw you make your appearance, for a brief second he forgot how to breathe.

“Don’t you clean up nice?” You commented on the way down the stairs, noting his plaid dress shirt and khaki pants.

“You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.” He winked your way.

“Shut up.” You scoffed, assuming he was making fun of you.

Your mother quickly interrupted your banter, squealing from the other room, running to join you with her camera. “It’s about time this day would happen.”

“Mom.” You scolded and rolled your eyes.

“Just a few.” She begged holding up your camera.

You painfully glanced at Jensen. He shrugged his shoulders, happy to oblige.

“Act like you know each other for goodness sakes.” You mother directed.

Jensen came in closer wrapping his arm around your waist. You attempted to hinder the growing fire within.

“Sorry.” You whispered.

“Hey, it will be nice for the kids to look back on this.” He teased before getting your elbow poked in his side.

“Now, we’ve know you for a long time Mr. Ackles, but this changes our relationship now.” Your father warned.

“Oh my god, Dad.” Your cheeks turned crimson. You hastily went for the door, needing to escape. “I told you we’re just going as a group of friends.”

“Have my girl home by 11.” He instructed, ignoring your protest. “12.” You bartered, practically pulling Jensen out into the night.

“Y/N.” Your father cautioned.

“12.” You repeated finally making it to the car.

A awkward silence hung in the air as you waited for Jensen to start up the Jeep.

You tried to break the tension by joking. “So you show up to my house in slacks and it's like my parents forget entirely who you are.”

He chuckled back. “Just think if it was Alex who showed up.”

“Oh my god, I would die.” You laughed back. “Did your parents say anything?” “They’re out on business this week. But the phone call was full of… get pictures, home by 12, keep your brain in your head not your…” He let the last one slip out.

You thought about it, not knowing what he meant. “You know it's not too late to ditch out for fries, burgers, and a movie.”

“Trust me, there will be plenty of nights for that when we are together in Cali.” He assured.

“In and Out…” You drooled. “Ugh, but the whole school is going to be there tonight.”

“Hey, maybe it’s not too late to start our campaign for prom king and queen.” He teased.

“As if.” You snorted.

Jensen pulled up to the school’s parking lot, cutting the engine. You stayed, staring straight ahead, wringing your hands together.

“Ya know, more rumors are gonna spread if we stay in the car all night.” He thought as he undid his seatbelt.

You rolled your eyes and hopped out of the car. “You’re ridiculous.”

You teased each other back and forth on your way to the school cafeteria. The tables and chairs had all been pushed to one side. Ribbons, streamers, and even a disco ball were strung up on the ceiling and a DJ was sending out hits for a crowd that was already dancing. You looked around the room finding Adrianna, Mitch and a group of more friends near the punch table. Adrianna and Mitch occasionally wandered out to the dance floor, but you stayed close against the wall, chatting with your friends. Jensen impatiently waited for you to make a move or begging for some sort of signal.

Whatever lights the DJ was using, turned down to a low blue and you heard the slow strum of a guitar. “This next one is for all the ladies who are looking simply wonderful tonight, it’s Wicked Game.” His velvety voice announced over the speaker.

A bunch of girls squealed, finding their partner. You met Jensen’s eyes, wonderfully green eyes and inhaled sharply, realizing you should bee-line it for the hallway.

But Jensen cut you off before you could make an escape. “You asked me to a dance, so are we going to dance or what?”

You bit your lip, considering your response, trying to think of a quick witted response, but you were left empty. He held out his hand and you took it, letting him lead you out to the dance floor.

He hesitantly put both hands to your waist, unintentionally causing you to nervously chuckle covering up the desire that was spreading within. You followed his gesture and placed both hands at the base of his neck. The two of you swayed back and forth to the music. You didn’t notice the few staring, wondering if the schools most notorious couple was finally an actual couple. All you could focus on was his vibrant green eyes staring down at you, the cluster of freckles that dusted his face, his soft pink lips.

Without reason or knowledge of doing so, the two of you leaned in closer, moments apart from meeting each other. The both of you paused, searching for permission in the other, before finally closing the gap as lips brushed against lips. Your heart stopped and your blood went cold as you pulled back. You stared at your best friend in the whole universe and you were terrified. Terrified because you knew you didn’t want to spend eternity with anyone else. You knew that he had your heart, that your friendship as it is was over, that it would never be the same. But you were still terrified.

So you laughed. “That… that was weird.” You stuttered.

Jensen scoffed, letting go of your waist and looking down at his feet. “Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“As long as it never happens again.” You blurted out.

“Agreed.” He nodded.

You felt the sting of tears, threatening to spill through. “I um.. I’m going to go get some punch.”

“Yeah. I’ll um… I’m going to go catch up with Mitch.” He stated, who just so happened to be on the opposite side of the room.

You hardly spoke the rest of the night, leaving the dance early; catching a ride with a couple of girlfriends. You ignored your parents comments of coming home early and immediately confined yourself to your room.

Jensen Ackles had only made you cry three times before tonight. But all three times had hurt your heart. In kindergarten he threw a rock at you on the playground. It hit you in the forehead, but you were more upset that he didn’t want to play chase with you. In second grade you drew him a picture of tulips. He tore it up and threw it away. And in seventh grade he suggested that he spend more time with some of the guys than you. It didn’t last long, but it still hurt. But tonight, tonight hurt the most. You cried clutching into your pillow. Loving what you had with Jensen, not wanting to lose it, hoping for more, but afraid it would never come to be.

***

When Jensen realized you had left, he took off soon after. There was no reason for him to stay if you weren't there. His parents were out of town that weekend, which was a relief for him. It allowed him to be free, to be true to himself. He attempted to change channels to distract himself, but keep landing on Sleepless In Seattle. And thought he would never admit it; with his dog curled up next to him, he watched as Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks met at the top of the Empire State building, and he cried.

Now you had only made Jensen cry three times before tonight. And every time, it was because of a kiss. In kindergarten, he and you wanted to play tag. You tagged him on the cheek with a kiss. He said it was against the rules and got mad. With the tears of a toddler, he threw a rock at you. In second grade, you shared a classroom yet again. You drew a picture of tulips. With your index finger you touched your lips and then his, saying two lips before landing a small peck. He cried, embarrassed, and threw the picture away. In seventh grade, his parents were out of town again and he stayed at your house for a week. During a traditional movie and pizza night, you kissed him during The Breakfast Club. That was the night he knew; knew he wanted to be your best friend forever. More than best friends. But he didn’t know how to tell you. So instead he said he needed more guys in his life and maybe less time with you.

And tonight. There was tonight. Where he wanted it all to fall into place. Where he finally might have had the chance to tell you what he had been feeling since the seventh grade. But when you said ‘weird’. And that cut him down to the core. It felt like you would only be just friends, and never anything more.

***

TAGS:

Forevers: @nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen@ginamsmith @jotink78 @blushingdean @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21 @li-ssu@highonpastries @daddy-kink-confirmed @weewooweewoo1212 @carryonmyswansong @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @atc74 @superapplepie @coolness22 @cassieraider @winchesternco @adaliamalfoy @iwriteaboutdean @spnbaby-67 @cigsandpie @curedean @monkeymcpoopoo @adoptdontshoppets @maddiepants @onceuponathreetwoone

JensenxReader: @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @jensen-gal @be-amaziing @mizzzpink@akshi8278 @beatlesobsessionlove @tiffanycaruso @mywillfulwinchester @boxywrites @its-not-a-tulpa @aubreystilinski @iamabeautifulperson18 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @gloriousartisanfancreator @sp8b8 @aomi-nabi

#Jensen Ackles #jensen x reader #supernatural #SPN #spn fanfiction #SPN FANDOM #Jensen x You #jensen x y/n #fanfic #new series #the great escape

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

918

Have a friends survey, because I’m really missing mine.

-- List 8 Friends of Either Gender --

1. Andrew 2. Jo 3. Aya 4. Gabie 5. Hannah 6. Angela 7. Laurice 8. Aliyah

Questions About These Friends

Does number 4 have a driver’s license? Yeah. I’m pretty sure we were part of the first few people in our high school batch who learned how to drive and get our licenses.

Can number 7 speak another language? Well yeah, she can speak Filipino. Everyone on the list can at least speak Filipino.

Does 2 know your parents well? Not so much. She knows the basic stuff about my parents that I tell everyone, like how my dad works abroad.

Have 3 and 5 been in the same room together? Multiple times, until Aya graduated. All three of us were in the same applicant batch in our org so we spent a loooot of time together.

Does 1 have similar music tastes to you? Broadly, yeah. I know we both like R&B and hip-hop but he’s faaaar more passionate about the genre and he’s a lot better at picking out artists and songs.

Has 6 ever stayed at your house? She’s visited a handful of times, but I prefer going to her house instead. I don’t really have a lot to offer here whereas we never run out of things to do at her place.

When did 3 last text you? If we are talking of strictly texts, November 2018. Aya was never a good replier on text lol. But my last notification of her in general was at 4 AM today, when she sent a meme to our friends’ group chat.

Does 5 have any pets? If so, what do they have? Nope. WELP I don’t know actually. She lives all the way in Bacolod so her home life doesn’t get raised much. I know she loves dogs though.

Does 7 live in the same town/city as you? Nah, she’s a south baby through and through.

Have you ever lent something important to 8? I’ve never even met her yet. We keep planning to especially since she works in Metro Manila now, but our schedules just never work out.

Can number 1 sing well? Yes. He’s done a lot of singing gigs and as far as I know he even put out an EP at one point. He has a sick stage name too.

Does 2 have any siblings? Nah, she’s an only child.

If 4 called you at 2 AM, what would your reaction be? Take it and assume she has trouble falling asleep.

Who is 8′s best friend? I’m not sure; I don’t know her all that well. I would assume it’s someone all the way in Mindanao, since that’s where she grew up and went to school and her whole life is there - she really only moved to Metro Manila for work. That’s why I feel for her sometimes and keep offering to meet up, so she can feel less lonely.

Does 6 have a favourite tv show? If so, what is it? She loooves watching TV series but I never knew what her favorite is. Good question, I’ll have to ask her this soon.

Who out of 5 and 7 knows you the best? I say they both know me on the same level but I think Laurice does slightly more. We’ve had deeper conversations, so it’s a safe guess.

Does 4 have a boyfriend/girlfriend? You are reading her answers right now. ;)

Does 2 have a career/knows what they want to be? Yes, she’s always wanted to be a journalist. She’s entering her senior year now and I’m really proud and super impressed with her for being able to keep up such a demanding, brutal passion; I was burned out from journ by freshman year. She even helps run a fact-checking website now :) It had just been a requirement in her class to come up with a fact-checking website but theirs got SO successful, racked up some awards, and now it’s still going.

Have you ever kissed 1? No. He’s like a brother to me and that just sounds like the weirdest scenario.

Does 3 have or want children? Yes. I know she wanted them when she was with Jo, but I’m not sure if she’s changed her mind lately.

Does 6 have any piercings or tattoos? Yep, on her ears.

Do your parents know 8? No. She’s an internet friend, so I never get to raise it in conversations. And I doubt they’ll be happy if they found out I made a friend on the interwebs anyway.

Which Number...

Have you had romantic feelings for? 4.

Have you told a secret to? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,7, 8. I’m pretty open with my secrets, as dumb as that sounds lol

Have you shared a bed with? 2, 3, 4, 6, 7.

Have you watched a movie with? I remember watching The Devil Wears Prada with 2 and 3. I’ve watched several movies with 4.

Have you seen cry? 2, 3, 4, 6.

Have seen you cry? 1, 4, 5. 5 hasn’t seen me cry but she has definitely heard me.

Have cooked you something? 6 and 7 :) They’re also the biggest mom friends on the list, so I’m not surprised.

Have a boyfriend/girlfriend? 1, 4, 6. I’m not sure if 2 and 3 are still together; we never get to update each other anymore. Have met your parents? 2, 3, 7 from a meeting we once held at my house. And 4 and 6, of course - they’re my mom’s favorites.

Have been to the same school/college as you? Everyone except 8.

About Number One What age are they? He turned 22 in June.

Have you met their parents? Never. He can’t give less of a shit about his dad so I don’t care for him, though. I know he’s super protective of his mom.

Have you ever been in a relationship with them? Not at all. He wouldn’t be my type, and like I said he’s a brother to me more than anything else.

Do they like most of your other friends? We mostly have mutual friends, so. I know he likes my best frieinds though - he was even the one who reminded me about putting Angela on my thesis acknowledgments.

How often do you two meet up and/or talk? Back in school we used to see each other around 1-2 days a week. He’s a little busier than I am since he takes side gigs, so he’s not in campus all the time.

When did you last argue? We’ve never fought but the last time I got quite upset with him was last December. We were rushing to get our thesis draft submitted on time and apparently he submitted the file to our professor’s VIBER. He for sure got an earful from me that day.

What is their favourite food? I’m not sure. He does tend to have unpopular food opinions so I wouldn’t be surprised if his favorite is not a common choice.

Where is their favourite place to be? On the basketball court or anywhere with Leigh, I’m guessing.

How many close friends do they have? I know of at least two - JM and Blanch. He is friendly and has an extensive circle though, so I’m sure I’m missing several other close friends of his.

Number Two What colour are their eyes? Dark brown.

Have they known you the longest? Not at all. I’ve only known her for three years.

Where were they born? I’m guessing it would either be Manila or Makati.

Why are they your number 2? She just fell on the second slot. I was trying to randomize my friends’ names and hers just turned out to be the second one I thought of.

Do they like children? I don’t know how she feels about them exactly but one thing I know is that she doesn’t hate kids, and we’ve had numerous conversations on what we’d do in certain scenarios involving kids.

Would they beat you in a race? I think so. But then again I did track at one point, so I’m walking onto that contest already with an advantage.

When did you last spend time alone together? Ugh c’mon man, this question is just sad. Jo had been hanging out at Skywalk less and less ever since most of the people in our friend group graduated last school year, so our last real hangout was probably that time we slept over at Laurice’s in June 2019. We never hung out a lot after that, and of course the lockdown just killed any chances we had of doing so.

Do they have a pet peeve? What is it? She has a lot of pet peeves but I can’t place any of them at the moment.

Number Three What is their hair colour? Black, as do most Filipinos.

What is their job, if they have one? Last I heard she got a gig with a major broadcasting network. I think she’s a segment producer? Segment researcher? Something of the sort.

Do they have their own place? I don’t think so; not just yet.

How many brothers or sisters do they have? I know she has a sister. I’ve forgotten if she has a brother.

Have you ever done something illegal with them? Yes hahaha illegal in university terms, at least. When we had free time and we saw that no one was using one of the classrooms in the college, our friend group snuck inside and played The Devil Wears Prada on the projector. As the only goody-two-shoes in the group I was super uneasy the whole time, but literally no faculty or staff checked in on us for the entire film. That was the moment I knew I was no longer in private school, where everyone watched you like a hawk lol.

How old were you when you met each other? I was 19, she was 21.

Are they more sporty, arty or academic? ARTSY. She’s one of the best artists I’ve ever seen and she can absolutely fucking slay any editorial cartoon.

Have you ever travelled out of country with this person? Nope. I would love to.

Person Four Do they have a favourite musician? St. Vincent’s been her fave for the longest time.

Have you drank alcohol with this person? Many times. When I drink she’s usually around.

Are their parents together? Yes.

What do you enjoy doing with them? EATING OUT!!! I also love going to new places and museum strolling with her, but yeah nothing works for me better than food with my favorite person.

When is their birthday? June 5th.

Do they have long or short hair? Long.

Have you been to a concert with this person? Yes, when we went to (illegally) see Coldplay from the top of a parking lot. Still felt like we were part of the concert grounds though.

If you asked them to describe you, what do you think they would say? Determined, hates to lose, and annoyingly generous.

Person Five Where did you two meet? I met Hannah on our enrollment day for our sophomore year in college. She and Macy had transferred from UPLB to UPD and since Macy and I were already friends from high school, she introduced me to Hannah. Then we became a lot closer when it turned out we were both applying for the same org.

How long ago did they phone you? We both hate phone calls and we’d hate to call/be called.

Do they have a certain sport they play? I don’t think she’s very athletic herself, but she loves watching UAAP games and she has a particular affinity for volleyball.

What about them annoys you sometimes? I never found her annoying. I did notice that her one weakness as a co-worker is her fear of being assertive, putting her foot down, being confident to come up with her own steps on how to come up with steps towards a situation, that kind of stuff. She often wanted someone who she felt like was more knowledgeable to be by her side and make all the decisions. But I did see her bloom a bit after a few months, so I’m proud of the progress.

Are they ruled by their head or their heart? Heart.

Are they male or female? Female.

In what ways are they the opposite of you? She’s religious and she loves to sing and perform.

How many rooms do they have in their house? No clue; I’ve never been to her house. I’ve never even been to her city.

Person Six Can they play an instrument? I think she knows *a bit* of guitar. But she’s not crazy gifted when it comes to musical instruments, I know that much.

Are they close with their mother? VERY. And she has no reason not to be - her mom is the nicest and most compassionate person I’ve ever met. Always treated me like family.

Do you know any of their siblings well? She’s an only child.

How many times have you visited their house? Countless, especially in high school and in our first few years in college.

When did you last go out to eat together? Feb. It was one of the food stalls at The Palace and we needed to eat away all the alcohol lol.

Do they own a bike? I haven’t seen one in her place so I’m assuming no. Her neighborhood is not very bike-friendly to begin with, so it’s understandable.

Do they have a sweet, sour or salty tooth? She has a...green tooth? Hahahaha she likes eating healthily.

What music genre do they listen to most? Pop, pop rock, indie, indie rock.

Person Seven Would you ever consider dating this person? Probably not. She’s SO stable and happy; I’m still working on it. I wouldn’t want to dump my shit on her vibrant and bubbly outlook on life.

Do they prefer cats or dogs? Dog, I think. I don’t know for sure though.

Are they or do they plan to go to college? To study what? Yes, she’s in her senior year now. She’s also taking up journalism – it’s how we met.

If they did something illegal, what would it be? I highly doubt that would ever happen lmao, she’s super nice and such a goody-two-shoes. If she got caught doing something illegal it’s 100% only because she was with someone who did the thing.

Have you ever shared a sundae with this person? Maybe once or twice.

is their hair dyed or natural? It’s all black now, but at one point she dyed it light brown.

Is this person sarcastic? She can be, especially with people she’s close to.

Is this person more likely to party or sit in and read a book? SIT IN AND READ A BOOK. Literally the most accurate option.

Person Eight Have you ever lied to this person? I probably have. We’ve only ever talked on social media, where it’s a lot easier to tell a tiny lie and get away with it.

Do you know where this person was born? Somewhere in Davao I’m assuming.

Do you know their middle name and do they know yours? We know each others’ second names because have them put out on Facebook; but not our middle names.

Do they have any special talents? If she does, I don’t know about them. She’s amazing at writing though.

What is their starsign? Whatever star sign falls on the first half of December.

What is the first thing you notice about this person? Ever since the time she tweeted that she doesn’t like smiling with her teeth, her smile has always been the first thing I’m drawn to.

Have you ever had a big row with this person? Never.

Do you like the same types of movies as this person? Not really. We met because she was friends with my friends who liked the same things she did, but when it comes to us we couldn’t really be any more different.

Random Stuff

Which of these friends would you say you are the closest to? Gabie, of course.

Can you remember all of their birthdays? I’ll give it a shot. June 22, December 31, December 5, June 5, January 16, September 15, May 23...and Aliyah’s is in early December, I’m certain.

Is there anything you regret saying to any of them? I guess only towards Gab, because I’m closest with her and we’ve been through the most together.

Which one of these has been there for you the most? Angela.

Which one have you known the longest and the shortest amount of time? I’ve been aware of Gabie the longest (18 years); been friends with Angela the longest (15 years); and been friends with Andrew the shortest (about a year and a half).

If you needed a laugh, you'd call... I wouldn’t call my friends if I needed help...but if I needed a laugh I’d turn to Anj or Andrew.

If you needed advice, you'd call... Mmm I’d pick among Andrew, Aya, Gabie, Angela, and Laurice.

Which one does your parents like the most? ANGELAAAAAAAA. She’s That friend that I can name-drop when I’m asking for permission to go out, and once my mom hears that she’s going to be with me she usually won’t hesitate to say yes haha.

Is there any of these your parents dislike? They don’t dislike any of them but I have a feeling they’ll disapprove of the fact that I made an online friend in Aliyah, especially my mom.

Do any of them share the same initials? Andrew and Aliyah do.

You can invite one with you for a once in a lifetime trip, which one? Angela.

Something you'd like to say to one of them: I miss you. That applies to everyone.

#survey #surveys #friends survey

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iglooface · 6 years ago

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My whole school career, despite how short it may be thus far, I have always been complimented and received positive remarks about how smart I was and how talented I was. They all find it strange that these are not traits I am proud of.

I grew up with depression, anxiety, and insomnia. My three original traits that have come to rule my life. I inherited mild depression from my mother, and anxiety and insomnia from my father. In all of my years in school except for the last I have been bullied mercilessly for everything about my being. It would vary from my hair, my style of clothing, my physical being, calling me ugly, exclusion, death threats, abandonment, being called names and excessively pointing out my mistakes (surprise! I'm human unlike most bastards I meet). I also had chronic nose bleeds, so from the beginning everyone was always grossed out by me for bleeding from my face nearly every day (most of my clothes are stained with my own blood because of this and I'm honestly too broke to afford new clothes very often). Even teachers and my own parents would put me down for nearly everything I did for one reason or the other; nothing I ever did was right. And to add more I'm often put after my sisters' needs and wants. I've never been prioritized.

I was, and still am, a sickly child. I've technically had my heart stopped and been dead twice before and I had a handful of major surgeries before my sophmore year in highschool. My doctors don't ever listen to me and they think I'm dramatic when I bring up actual chronic symptoms I suffer from.

As a child, we moved around a lot and so I switched schools often and was never able to make or keep friends. I come from a long line of verbally and emotionally abusive teachers who went on without consequence whilst I get in trouble for trying to fix myself. In grade school alone I had all but two of my teachers quit their jobs and/or be replaced after that year, if not during the middle.

Children are highly impressionable, and so these kinds of events did lead up to me thinking it was somehow my fault. Logically I know this not to be true, but impressions and mental illnesses are not logical.

In seventh grade alone, I had gone through 12 different prescriptions for pain and different types of birth control to regulate my period and my chronic cramps. It's highly likely that I had, and still have, endometriosis, yet my doctors are always reluctant to perform any blood tests on me simply because I am young, as if being young makes it entirely impossible for me to have health issues.

My periods were unstable to a point that I'd end up having one for thirteen days, or months apart. Given, young girls with periods often experience irregular cycles, but mine kept landing me in the hospital which is never a good sign.

I was bullied that year to a point that I tried to kill myself and failed, and I managed to avoid my parents finding out. This was the beginning of my incredibly high drug tolerance. At the end of that year, my favorite teacher was killed in a car accident.

The following year, it was found out I had massive ovarian cysts that were increasing my insomnia and put me in agonizing pain nearly every moment of my life. But my doctors refused to take action because I was young. That year I was further emotionally abused by a handful of my teachers. One of them, worse than others, was fired during the beginning of the third trimester of the school year. Her replacement, a long term substitute, was even worse. She had bullied and abused the class so hard that kids had killed themselves and I ended up getting conversion disorder.

Conversion disorder is a mental disorder in where my body cannot handle stress. My brain doesn't know how to function and deal with high stress situations, so instead it shuts off my physical body. Symptoms vary from person to person, but mine are on more of the extreme end. It varies from extreme memory loss, seizures, not breathing, choking on white foam produced by my body, screaming unconsciously, blacking out, temporary amnesia, and paralysis. This is a condition that I cannot control under any circumstances, and it truly dictates my life.

Now my mom had gone to the principal (the school cycles through five in a single school year because of a whole lot of drama) to report this teacher and get a new one. And instead of acting reasonably, the principal quite literally told us she wouldn't look into a replacement because it wouldn't change anything.

And, oh, how wrong she was.

I had previously had mild anxiety and depression from previous life experiences, but this year pushed me to be anxious to a fault (granting me a new stutter, hours long panic and anxiety attacks, migraines, etc), and pushed me into such a strong depression I became highly suicidal and went into an emotional shock. And because of this I also gained PTSD, which is a whole trip within itself.

Freshman year was a wreck. Another one of my middle school teachers had died; she died from cancer and was one of very few people who were ever nice to me. I was being bullied on a whole new level of horrid, and I was flunking every class I had been in. My conversion disorder episodes became do frequent and so severe that the school actually kicked me out illegally for about two months before they continued my education on independent study. That year my dog was put down. And normally that wouldn't be such a big deal except for the part she was quite literally my only friend for three years.

Even worse; I was in recovery after one of my more major surgeries to get my ovarian cysts removed to help with my pain and sleeping problems. I was fragile and under the influence of strong drugs when I decided to take my dog on a walk around my property for the first time in a month because I had been on bed rest. She had seen my neighbor, and gotten freaked out by him (he radiates massive pedophile vibes) and so she jumped on him. Now this over privileged scumbag thought the appropriate response was to threaten to shoot my dog if he ever saw her again no matter the circumstance, and proceeded to curse me out profusely all while I tried to apologise and make it right.

My dog had become a liability because of this man and we had to put her down. Take in mind she was an amazing dog, and had never disobeyed me. She was protective of me as she had been since we adopted her and was genuinely the best thing that has ever happened to me. She'd check on me when I cried and lay with me when I was sick, and was there for me more often that my actual parents were.

The next year, I was bullied slightly less, but I had a great ordeal of friend drama and my fair amount of fights with the office staff. One of my friends, who I thought was close to me, had threatened to kill me after I offended her exactly once. I had a bad day after another episode and she had built this reputation of not feeling and being unattached to the real world. I wasn't in the mood to deal with people and when she asked me if I was okay I questioned why she cared. That was it. Later I had apologized because I had come to terms that I was in the wrong for dismantling her emotions, but she decided to take it too far.

One of my teachers was permanently removed from the school for having nudes on a school device, and they brought in a long term substitute. This was about when my PTSD really started to kick me in the nuts, so I went back on independent study to complete the year. My only other friends moved away and my significant other had killed himself after killing himself shortly after telling me he loved me.

I don't expect people to understand the kind of psychological damage this causes to a person, but I can tell you that it hurts.

I was referred to a continuation school in my area for flunking both years of highschool, and this continuation school had a bad reputation of being troubled kids and violent beings.

I get there, I spend my year being amazed by how nice people are to me. This is the first year of my life I have ever been treated like a human, and it was by the people society had deemed misfits. I had a great year; I made friends and built connections to people. And then my friends left me, and my favorite teacher was fired simply for being a first year. My other teacher left the school year early for maternity leave, and, guess what, was replaced by a long term substitute. I don't think I've ever panicked as hard as I did in those months. Similar timing, same school subject, similar classroom. All of the stressors were right and I nearly fell apart at the seams. I had more frequent and severe migraines and anxiety attacks. My hands would shake in fear so hard I couldn't write, which was bad because the classes I had with that teacher were exclusively note taking and online courses. This substitute wasn't a bad person. He was competent and polite and was always helpful, but my mental illnesses and brain blocks caused me to lose the opportunity to work with them successfully. In the last trimester I tried to kill myself three times, and I accidentally overdosed on drugs about 14 times over the whole year. I almost died a lot by my own doing and it was horrible.

Children need stability to survive and develop normally and I had been deprived of both, as well as emotional stability and positive reinforcement.

Now, during these times I had coping methods. I draw and write professionally to distract myself from the physical pain in my being if not just stress plain and simple. I watched documentaries and studied nearly every subject during my sleepless nights. My coping method was learning, practicing, evolving, and then teaching. My IQ had beat the range of average and I've had a reading level ranked at post college since I was in middle school. And this fall I'm a senior and I've only been ranked higher and higher each year. I've always gotten extra credit on every individual assignment and I've always been too of my class. My teachers love my art, and I had exceeded my professional art teacher within weeks of knowing her. I see, I practice, I perfect, I personalize every trait and skill I want and find intriguing. I study and develop to keep myself from remembering the agony I'm in.

I have a really wide and extensive knowledge on almost every subject and culture I've come across from, because being awake and learning for days on end beats being awake and in agony for days on end.

Along with my severe insomnia, it becomes apparent that I've seen more sunrises than the amount of years most adults have been alive. My walks under the starlight and the moon at odd hours? Amazing. Laying in a field at night and listening to all the little creatures and the coyotes howling in the distance? Perfect. Stargazing in my driveway on a clear night in the winter? Cold to my bones but I'd never trade the memory. Walking home in the rain at 11 a.m.? It's made me wiser. Taking a moment to breathe in and feel nature has sometimes saved me.

My bones definitely creak; mostly because I have juvenile arthritis, but I also feel ancient in my mind.

The wear and tear my body has faced for such a physically young being is unnatural. I can't describe the strange feelings of almost bleeding to death or stomach ulcers brought on by stress.

Those weird feelings of my bones cracking wrong or my knees suddenly giving out.

I've seen more of the Galaxy from here on earth than most adults have ever seen in a poster.

The meteor showers, the shooting stars, the solar flares, the cycles of the moon, the constellations? They accompany me on my walk down to my death.

Even better, looking up daily to love the clouds. I've seen amazing things and infinite days in mere minutes.

The feeling of cool streams and powerful rivers. Almost drowning in the ocean on multiple occasions, feeling the rain on my face. Those are the most powerful moments I've ever experienced.

Hearing the cry of infantile wildlife and mothering it feels like an old friend of mine. I cannot emphasize on how many creatures I've fostered back to health.

I've seen life and I've seen death, and quite too much of it for my age. The wars, the shootings, the stabbings and car accidents. People hanging themselves and people who die clear well before their body does. The births i e witnessed, the blooming of Meadows, the appearance of the new foxes.

Aiding things that normally need help and defending those who have lost their shields. Befriending things considered monsters. Providing a moment of peace for animals searching for the bridge of mortality.

The comfort I bring to people, the therapy I provide from listening and accepting, it was never something I had received myself.

My therapist diagnosed me a sociopath path as an ignorant response to seeing my lack of attachment to people. Technically she's not wrong, I'm a mild sociopath.

And before anyone gets weirded out, sociopaths do have feelings. They are simply harder to reach and read by strangers or common uninvolved people. Psychopaths pretend to care when they don't really. They are violent and unpredictable. Do not confuse us, do your research.

My English teacher this year had made a remark about me being an old soul, and oh, how right she was. I am ancient and people notice.

Life has been forever as I have been forever. My heart is still there, just ground to a fine sand and stored somewhere safer.

I'm tired, of course from my worrying for the human race and how much trouble people are creating these days. The people, they see me and tell me to smile, yet I have nothing to smile for.

My pain killers are border line overdose and all they do is make me a little dizzy. The last time I had pain relief was five years ago in a hospital. I had been in so much pain I hadn't slept in 17 days and they out me on morphine. I was only 12 years old and it was then it had become apparent I'd never be able to truly rest.

Somehow, I rest anyways. I find peace somewhere. Maybe in my hallucinations, maybe in my dreaming and dissociating, maybe in the way the trees speak. Listen to them, the trees, they can tell you more than a life time of science and precision.

I exist, not to overpower someone else's suffering, but instead to offer safety and support. I share so much to emphasize how much I understand. I'm not here as competition to see who can suffer more, but instead I am here to offer a helping hand to keep other people out of the pit of depression I often find myself in.

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