#now. my dad had a choice to make. ''PM‚'' he says

[sillygoose067]

hi!! is it possible for you to write one for lewis pullman in general or bob floyd inspired by this

Hi! Yes of COURSE it’s possible, I’m so glad you asked :) I chose to do Lewis for this one, but maybe in the future I’ll do a Bob Floyd version… 🤔💭

Also the tweet itself is so funny I swear I’ve seen it like 50 other times and still laughed at it. Thanks for bringing it back!

———————————————————————————-

Plus One, Minus Me

Lewis Pullman x Reader

You were halfway through another spreadsheet, fingers stiff from typing, when your phone started to buzz across the desk. The screen lit up with a name that made the corners of your mouth soften—Lew💞.

You tucked the phone between your shoulder and ear, already grateful for the break. “Hey, you,” you said, brushing a crumb from your lap. “What’s up?”

His voice came through, winded. “Quick question—where are you?”

You frowned faintly, clicking away from the screen. “Um. At work? Still chained to the desk. Why?”

There was a shuffle on the other end. Distant laughter. A thud, like someone had dropped something nearby. And then—faintly—a child's voice calling for someone named "Captain Lewis."

“…Wait,” you said, straightening up. “Where are you?”

“I’m at your family’s place?” he replied, like it was obvious. “The cookout. The one you told me about last week?”

Your brain did a somersault. You yanked open your calendar. June 25th — Family cookout, 3 PM — backyard, bring something sweet?

Oh god. You had told him.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I completely forgot.”

“I thought you were just running late,” he said, unbothered. “Your mom texted me the address this morning, so I just showed up. Figured it'd be polite to shake some hands and make a quiet exit.”

You groaned, already burying your face in one hand. “I had back-to-back reports this morning. I didn’t even think—I’m so sorry—wait, how are you even surviving out there? My family’s like, full-contact socializing.”

There was a brief silence, and then a huff of laughter.

“Yeah, I didn’t really get a choice. Your aunt handed me a pair of tongs before I even finished saying hello. I’ve grilled, stacked chairs, lost a round of trivia, and now I’m being roped into a scavenger hunt by your cousin? I think I’m her team captain now?”

You could almost see him: sleeves rolled up, awkwardly trying to blend in, probably blushing his way through small talk while balancing a paper plate.

“Lewis,” you sighed, equal parts charmed and horrified.

But he didn’t hear it. His voice had shifted, distracted again. “Wait—someone’s calling me—uh, hey, sorry, I can’t really talk right now, I’m being drafted into backyard dodgeball. Your dad’s on the opposing team and he’s been warming up for ten minutes—I think he’s taking this personally—okay, gotta go—bye!”

Click.

You blinked.

He hung up.

He actually hung up on you.

To play dodgeball.

At your family’s cookout.

That you forgot about.

A scoff caught in your throat—half disbelieving, half amazed. You shook your head and stared at the phone like it had betrayed you. Moments later, a message came in.

A photo. Blurry but full of motion. Lewis in the foreground, red-cheeked and triumphant, clutching a foam ball like a prize. Behind him: your dad mid-sprint, your cousin ducking for cover. Someone had stuck a makeshift nametag on Lewis’s shirt. It read: “TEAM MVP.���

Then came the text:

Lew💞: “Tell me this counts as cardio. Also tell your mom I’m winning? Sort of.”

You felt a smile start somewhere deep and involuntary. A quiet warmth that spread beneath your ribs.

You: “I can’t believe you’re just out there bonding with my entire family without me:(”

Lew💞: “Yeah, well. Someone had to represent you. I’m doing my best. Now if you’ll excuse me, your uncle just pulled out the water balloons.”

Pause.

Lew💞(follow-up): “P.S. Tell your boss you’re missing a great pasta salad.”

———

You managed to finish up your shift a little after sunset, eyes heavy and brain gelatinous from too many hours of spreadsheets and fluorescent lights. But as soon as you clocked out, your feet moved on instinct. You barely thought about it—just turned the wheel and pointed your car in the direction of home. Or at least, the temporary version of it: your parents’ house, backyard still glowing with string lights and the leftover echo of laughter.

By the time you pulled up, most of the chaos had thinned. The crowd had quieted to clusters of folding chairs and flickering citronella candles. A few cousins darted around with glow sticks; someone had put on an old playlist, the kind that lived in your family’s blood more than memory.

You stepped into the yard with a breath held like a confession.

Your parents were at the patio table, sipping something warm, plates scraped mostly clean. Your mom saw you first. Her eyes lit up, though she didn’t rise—just waved you over with a small smile.

“I’m so sorry,” you said as soon as you reached them. “I completely spaced. Work swallowed me whole.”

Your dad waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. We figured you’d show up when you could.”

“Besides,” your mom said, patting your arm. “Lewis made up for both of you.”

You blinked. “He did?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, grinning. “He’s been playing referee, grill assistant, magician, babysitter, and apparently—”

Your dad cut in. “—the reigning water balloon dodge champion.”

You laughed, cheeks warming. “Where is he now?”

Your mom stood, nodding for you to follow her through the side of the yard. “He wore himself out. The little ones ran him into the ground.”

You passed the garden hose, a collapsed beach ball, and a pair of soaked sneakers—evidence of earlier warfare—and then turned the corner into the screened-in sunroom.

There he was. Sprawled on the old futon like a crime scene outline, one arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. His shirt was damp, hair tousled, and someone had draped a beach towel over him like a blanket. Your youngest cousin had left a juice box balanced precariously on his chest.

You stood in the doorway and just stared for a second. He looked so comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like your family had absorbed him fully, and he’d let it happen.

“He kept saying he wasn’t tired,” your mom said quietly behind you. “Then he sat down for one second and passed out like a light.”

You glanced at her, grateful.

“Thanks for looking after him.”

She touched your back, light as a whisper. “He fits, sweetheart. Good one, that boy.”

You smiled, then stepped forward to kneel by the futon. You gently moved the juice box, then brushed a hand along his arm. “Hey,” you murmured. “Ready to head home?”

He stirred, blinking slowly, smile groggy and crooked. “Did we win?”

“You definitely lost consciousness, so… sort of.”

He laughed under his breath, voice husky with sleep. “Your cousin is terrifying. I think I work for her now.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him upright. “Let’s get you out of here before she demands overtime.”

You guided him to the car, waving your goodbyes over your shoulder as he leaned sleepily against you, still radiating warmth from all the attention and adrenaline. And as you drove, his head tipped gently against the window, you couldn’t help but marvel at it all.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the stars were out and the air had that summer hush to it—cool against your skin, the kind of quiet that only arrives after a long, noisy day.

Lewis was half-asleep again in the passenger seat, arms folded, head resting against the window like he might be dreaming something sweet. You hated to wake him, but the porch light flickered on as the car door opened, and he stirred on his own, rubbing at his eyes.

“Home?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Just about.”

Inside, you helped him kick off his shoes while he yawned like a cartoon character. He dropped his keys twice, then muttered something about how your cousins had “the combined energy of a nuclear plant.” You snorted as you tossed the spare blanket from the couch over his shoulders and went to fetch a glass of water.

When you came back, he was standing in the kitchen doorway, eyes soft and half-lidded, just watching you.

“You’re staring,” you said, offering him the glass.

He took it with both hands, sipped, then said, “Your mom likes me.”

“She does.”

“Your dad said I throw like a ‘real man,’ which I think was a compliment.”

You laughed and leaned your hip against the counter. “You made quite the impression.”

He gave a sleepy smile. “I just didn’t want them to miss you too much.”

That made you pause. Then step forward.

And tuck a hand into the curve of his elbow.

“I think you distracted them just fine.”

You guided him to the couch and sat down beside him, legs curled under you, shoulder brushing his. He exhaled, deep and slow, like he was finally letting go of the day.

After a moment, you reached over, gently pulling a stray blade of grass from his hair.

He watched you with that look of his—soft, a little amused, all affection.

“Thanks for showing up,” you said quietly.

He blinked. “Of course.”

“No, I mean… not just for me. For them. For being there, even when I wasn’t. You didn’t have to.”

He leaned back, head tilted, eyes studying you in that unassuming way of his. Then: “Yeah, but you love them. And I love you. It’s not that complicated.”

Your breath caught a little. Because of how easy, how logical he made it sound.

And how right it felt, hearing it here, in this quiet pocket of the night, after everything.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Outside, a cricket chirped somewhere in the dark. The kind of sound that only made silence feel more full, not less.

Eventually, he sank sideways into the cushions and pulled you gently with him.

And there, tangled together on the couch, your fingers still warm in his, you revelled in this love you'd found.

[itsnesss]

𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

OO1. OO2. OO3.

summary | during a weekend getaway, unspoken tension between you and minho comes to a head despite his relationship. a stolen kiss leaves you conflicted, torn between your feelings and doing what’s right

warnings | fluff, infidelity, tension, kisses, emotional conflict

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The invitation arrived unexpectedly at night. You were about to finish your tasks when your phone buzzed with a message in the group chat you shared with your friends.

Min Ho: "Hey, losers. This weekend, I’m inviting you to my dad’s cabin. Before you start making pathetic plans, confirm who’s coming. It’s going to be epic."

You stared at the message, surprised. Min Ho didn’t usually organize things like this… or at least, he didn’t invite everyone. Yuri was the first to reply.

Yuri: "Of course, we’re coming! Although I can’t believe you’re being generous. Is this a joke?"

Juliana: "I’m in! I wouldn’t miss it!"

Q: "Count me in."

Then, a message from Stella, his girlfriend, appeared.

Stella: "It’ll be fun. 💕"

For a moment, you hesitated. There was something about the idea of spending a weekend with Min Ho that made you feel… nervous. For months, there had been this strange tension between you two: glances that lasted longer than they should, little jokes only you understood, and an electricity you tried to ignore. But he had a girlfriend. And you weren’t that kind of person.

Still, you finally typed: "I’m in."

Min Ho: "Good choice. See you Friday at 5 PM. Don’t be late.

The weekend came quickly. Everyone gathered in the KISS parking lot, where Min Ho waited with his cars. Stella took the passenger seat, and you ended up in the back, squeezed between Yuri and Juliana. During the ride, Min Ho drove with a confidence that was as infuriating as it was attractive, throwing sarcastic comments that seemed aimed directly at you.

"Ready for the best weekend of your life?" he asked, briefly glancing back at you with a smug grin.

"I don’t know, Min Ho. You’ll have to try really hard to impress me," you replied, crossing your arms.

The "cabin" turned out to be a luxury villa in the middle of the forest, with huge windows, modern furniture, and a lake view straight out of a postcard. "Welcome to paradise," Min Ho said, spreading his arms wide.

The afternoon passed with board games, walks by the lake, and laughter. Stella was more interested in her phone than the group, leaving Min Ho free to talk to you more than he should have. His comments seemed harmless, but there was something in his tone and the way he looked at you that made your heart beat faster than usual.

When night fell, Yuri suggested using the outdoor jacuzzi. "It’s the perfect way to end the day!"

"I hope you all brought decent swimsuits," Min Ho said, throwing you a teasing look.

"I hope you talk less," you shot back, meeting his gaze.

The jacuzzi was surrounded by warm lights that gave the garden a tranquil atmosphere. Everyone got in, laughing, and for a while, you managed to relax. Min Ho, as always, dominated the conversation with exaggerated stories, but his eyes kept finding yours. That invisible connection you’d both been ignoring was there, growing stronger by the minute.

One by one, your friends began to leave the jacuzzi. Yuri and Juliana were the first, saying they were cold. Then Q, who yawned dramatically before saying goodnight. Finally, Stella said, "I’m going to bed, love. Don’t stay too long," planting a kiss on Min Ho’s cheek before disappearing into the villa.

Now, you were alone with him. You tried to focus on the starry sky, but the silence between you was too heavy. Finally, Min Ho broke the ice.

"Why do you always do that?"

You turned to him, confused. "Do what?"

"Pretend like nothing matters to you," he said, leaning against the edge of the jacuzzi as he stared at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Min Ho," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, with that infuriating smile that made your heart race and drove you crazy at the same time.

"If you’re looking for a fight, find someone else," you retorted, turning your gaze back to the water.

But he didn’t back down. "I’m not looking for a fight. I just want to understand why you act like you don’t feel the same way I do."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Min Ho, you have a girlfriend."

"That doesn’t answer my question," he said, leaning a little closer to you.

You looked him straight in the eye, trying to stay calm. "Because it doesn’t make sense, Min Ho. We’re different. You’re… you. And I don’t want complications."

"Complications?" he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe it. "Is that what you think I am?"

"No," you admitted softly. "But all of this would be. I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt."

For a moment, Min Ho didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, a mix of frustration and something else in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "Do you know what your problem is? You always try to do the right thing, even when it’s not what you want."

"And that’s a bad thing, according to you?" you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but…" he began, then stopped. He sighed, as if he was about to confess something important. "I’ve been trying to ignore this for months. But every time I’m near you, it’s like nothing else exists."

His words left you breathless. You wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. And then, before you could think about what you were doing, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow, intense, and full of everything you both had been holding back. His hands gently cupped your face, while the world around you seemed to disappear. But just as you were starting to lose yourself in the moment, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding. "This shouldn’t have happened," you said, moving away from him.

Min Ho looked at you, confused. "Why not?"

"Because you have a girlfriend, Min Ho. Stella trusts you. I can’t be that person."

"And what about what I feel? Or what you feel?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

"That doesn’t matter. It can’t matter," you whispered, your eyes filled with a sadness you couldn’t hide.

You quickly got up, wrapping the towel around your body. "I’m sorry, but this isn’t right."

Without waiting for a response, you walked back to the villa, leaving Min Ho alone. His words, and the warmth of his kiss, echoed in your mind as you walked away. This shouldn’t have happened. It couldn’t happen. And yet, a part of you wished things were different.

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do one were the reader is the sls and she’s dating Nate (there like 16) and they start messing around, Marylou tells the triplets and Justin to give them “the talk” since they don’t want her getting pregnant anytime soon!

lol!

⸻

“The Talk (From Hell)”

It started with a locked door. That was your first mistake.

You and Nate weren’t doing anything too serious. Just laying in your bed, making out a little, whispering and laughing, pretending the world didn’t exist outside that bedroom. It was innocent… mostly.

But Marylou? She wasn’t stupid.

She walked by your door, saw the light was off, heard low voices, and—most importantly—tried the knob.

Locked.

Immediately, she called for Jimmy.

“I am not ready to be a grandma,” she hissed. “Absolutely not.”

“Maybe they’re just talking?” Jimmy tried.

Marylou gave him a look so deadly, Jimmy nearly choked on his coffee. “No. I want the boys to handle it.”

“The boys?” he blinked. “You’re really gonna send Nick, Matt, Chris, and Justin in there to give their little sister the talk?”

Marylou grabbed her keys and her purse. “Exactly. It’ll be so horrifying, she’ll stay a virgin until she’s thirty.”

⸻

Later That Night – Your Room

You were peacefully texting Nate (as if your mom hadn’t threatened your life earlier) when your door slammed open.

Nick walked in first, looking like someone just told him he had to relive his middle school haircut.

Matt followed, dramatically pointing like this was a courtroom trial. “Downstairs. Now.”

Chris came in holding snacks. “We’re gonna need fuel for this.”

And Justin—the oldest and most dramatic of the brothers—entered last, clapping his hands once. “Let’s make this as awkward as humanly possible.”

You stared at them, completely frozen. “What the actual hell is going on?”

“Family meeting,” Matt said.

Chris: “Sex edition.”

Nick: visibly trying not to pass out.

Justin: “Let’s go, Little Miss Hormones.”

⸻

Living Room – 8:12 PM

You sat on the couch with your arms crossed, cheeks burning.

All four brothers stood in front of you like they were about to deliver a TED Talk from hell.

“Mom told us what happened,” Chris started.

“Nothing happened,” you snapped. “We were literally just—”

Nick cut you off. “Nope. Don’t say it. I don’t wanna know. I’m gonna cry.”

Matt held up a finger. “Here’s the deal. We love you. We support you. But if you and Nate continue locking doors and… rolling around like baby otters—”

“WHAT?!” you gagged. “Why would you say it like that?!”

Justin sat down across from you, staring with big brother intensity. “This is serious. You’re 16. You’re young. And Nate’s a good guy—but if he knocks you up, I’m punching him straight into next week.”

Chris nodded. “Straight up. I don’t care how sweet he is. I’ll turn into Dad Hulk.”

Nick finally looked up. “Mom said we had to be thorough. So… we brought diagrams.”

Matt proudly held up a poorly drawn poster board with two stick figures and something labeled “Bad Choices.”

Y/N stood up. “Nope. I’m done. I’m walking into traffic.”

Justin shrugged. “Better than walking into motherhood.”

⸻

Ten Minutes Later – Y/N’s Room

You locked yourself in your room and flopped onto your bed, texting Nate:

“Your name is now banned in this house. My brothers just gave me the sex talk. With DIAGRAMS.”

Nate:

“OH MY GOD. What did they say??”

You:

“Chris said if you get me pregnant he’ll Hulk smash you. Justin was dead serious. Matt said something about otters. Nick almost passed out.”

Nate:

“…I’m terrified of your whole family.”

You:

“You should be.”

⸻

Downstairs

The four boys sat in silence on the couch, drained.

“I think we did good,” Matt said.

Chris leaned back. “We did terrible. I wanna scrub my brain with bleach.”

Nick was curled up under a blanket. “I never want to hear the word ‘pregnant’ again.”

Justin took a deep breath, then nodded. “If she even thinks about kissing Nate again, it’ll be too soon.”

Matt grinned. “Mission accomplished.”

⸻

[flammingnachos]

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏(topper thornton x fem!reader)

𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; opposite attract they say, well that’s the case for you and topper your the embodiment of a person that makes choices without the fear of judgment or criticism and then there’s topper

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨; Pogue!reader, abusive topper, controlling and manipulative,cursing, slight forced marriage, SMUT, (1/2)

Reckless.

Something that I’ve always been called as a child

I’ve never really paid attention to what anyone had ever about me since I’ve never really cared too much about people's opinions why worry about something that doesn’t make a difference in your life rather than just stress about it

My Perspective on people's opinions however changed during my teen years after my parents went bankrupt and were forced to slave themselves for the cooks on the other side of the town, my father worked for Judge Thornton as his personal construction worker.

My father became great friends with judge Thornton through out the years occasionally bringing me over during my teens years to meet Mr Thornton only son Topper.

During this time Topper didn’t even spare a few glances or a few words other than “hi” and “bye” from the times I’ve been over at his home as “play dates” as my parents liked to call it. He was busy hanging out with this best friend rafe and started talking to Sarah cameron

It was when I turned 16 my life had really changed, mom was home for a few days of the week while dad was barely ever there after my 15th birthday. It was then that same day a few knocks where heard on my front door

I looked over at the broken chronograph that was slanted on the wall seeing that it read 8:00 PM

“Who could be coming this late” I wondered

I hesitatingly walked over to the door slightly peeking through the door seeing that it was Sheriff Shoupe and another male officer with him, he looked up at me

“may I have a word with you Cassidy” He asked taking off his hat and resting it upon his chest

“Uhm my mother isn’t here at the moment you’ll have to come back another time,” I said looking around the house a bit

“Well, there’s no need what I need to talk to you about is about them” he sighed out

My eyebrows furrowed

I opened the door fully and gestured for them both to come in

“I didn’t want to deliver this kind of message to a young person as yourself but your parents have been arrested” He said calmly

It went silent after he said that, my whole world felt like it was gonna go crashing down after that, I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. I just kept feeling daggers go straight through my heart and my vision blurring a bit

I wiped my eyes slightly

“W-what do you mean sheriff” I asked

“They’ve been arrested for theft, your father has been stealing money from judge Thornton bank and hiding it with your mother”

I stayed silent waiting for him to continue holding in my breath silently

“Judge Thornton was going to press charges but he made a deal with your father for his repayment, it involved you” he finished out waiting for my reaction

“W-what about me?” I whispered out

“He made a deal that you’ll be living with them from now on and you’ll be married off to there son Topper to repay the dept your father owed them” He said

That’s it right there.. when my whole word fell apart and crashed down right on me, the air seemed like it was suffocating me and the feet felt more heavier than they usual are and my body felt so hard to be still

I felt like passing out

The sheriff noticed this and held me slightly seeing my body about to stumble over and fall right onto the floor

“I understand how you feel Cassidy but right now your parents requested me take you back over the station to see them before they are put in jail” he said walking out the door slowly and guiding me over to the police car as he opened the door and I hesitantly got in frozen in place as he slammed the door and got in the drivers seat taking off

I was frozen in place unable to think or move a bone

This had to be a dream

The car moved up and down slightly as the sheriff drove through the bridge that separated the cooks from the pogues. The flashing lights from the street lamp post illuminating slightly over my face as he drove in the darkness

Without noticing more tears started slowly crept up into my eyes and right down on my face continuously as I wiped them trying the hardest for it to stop raining on my face but it didn’t.

The sheriff heard my sniffles and whales of cries and glanced at the rear view mirror.

I didn’t notice we reached at the station until I felt my door being opened and the cool summer air gushing on to me.

“C’mon Cassidy” he whispered out putting his hand out for me to grab onto it

I slowly looked up from the floor and looked over at his with glassy eyes slowly inching my arms to his and getting out the car

He closed the door guiding me into the station and down in the interrogation area, my head being dipped down and focused onto the floor the whole way there

He opened the door and there I was faced with my father and mother sitting side by side staring right at me with guilt in there eyes. I couldn’t bare to even look at them for what they had done and the situation they had now put me through

The sheriff pulled out the chair infront of my mother as I sat down chewing the bottom of lip

“Well I’ll leave you guys to it, you have a few more minutes left with your parents before there transit comes” he announced and then looked back over at them before taking his leave

The room stayed quiet

“Look sweetie what your father and I did was all for you, we didn’t mean for this to happen w-we just wanted you to have a better future” my mother spoke putting her hands over the table and rubbing the dried tears off my cheeks slightly

“Y-you’ve set me up to get married to some guy I barely even know a Cook at that” I sniffed

“It was the only way doll, it was either that or have you work for Mr Thornton off the debt that I made, I couldn’t have you slave behind me for something you didn’t even do” My father spoke back

I looked up at him with nothing to fury

“THEN WHY!? why do this shit if you knew you would have been caught and your poor old daughter would have to take all your consequence” I half yelled at him in frustration

This shocked both of my parents as there eyes both went up at my tone not to mention my cursing my mother removed her hands from my face

“Sweetie what we did was for you, for your future for your college for you fucking life-!” My mother started to yell but my father interrupted her trying to call her down

“louis!” he yelled

“Cassidy what your mother is trying to say is that this may seem like what we did was reckless of us because we didn’t think of the consequences but we did and we knew we would pay the price but we didn’t think that they would use you as the price we would be paying” My father explains in one breath

I stayed silent again

Right on cue the door opened we all turned to look over at who it was seeing it was another police office

“Times up, your transit is here Mr and Mrs Ryder” the man announced opening the door more wider as two other officers came in handcuffing both of my parents

“Wait wait, I didn’t get to-”I flinged up in a rush to stop them from handcuffing both of my parents

“I’m sorry ma’am but there transit is here to take them to the county prison” he tried to reasoned out

“It’s okay Cassidy, we deserve this” my father softly spoke out

“We’ll be fine, take care of yourself baby” my mother croaked out, water falling down on her face as she shut her eyes to stop herself fork crying even more than she already was

At the sight made me cry to seeing my other cry

“Noo mom please” I cried out blinded by the water spilling out my eyes

I grabbed my hands out for my mother as officer backed me up off her as I continued crying

“Well always love you Cassidy” my father said before he disappeared out the door and so did my mother, her cries still heard bouncing off the walls

The officer used his walkie talkie calling in for sherif shoupe

I sat back down crying into my arms

“I’ll take it from here officer”shoupe I recognized his voice nearing over towards me

“everything gonna be okay Cassidy, you can always vist them” he tried to cheer me up

I only cried out more

“C’mom cassidy we can’t be in here much longer, it’s getting late and you’ll catch a cold from the way you’ve been crying” he whispered out slightly picking up my arms

I sniffed whipping my eyes to stop the tears as I got up following shoupe to his police car passing by the rest of the officers as my continued wiping my eyes to stop the water from running back down my face some more

Sheriff shoupe opened his police car door as I slowly got inside the car buckling my seatbelt, the car taking off once I did so

I turned my head to the right looking thru the window watching as the trees passed by and by all the street lights that were now on

“It’s not my place but try to give Mr and Mrs Thornton a chance before you can judge” I heard Sherif shoupe spoke out making me turn my attention towards him driving the car

“Yeah”I whispered turning my attention back outside until we reached to my destination

We arrived in the next 10 minutes as the car came to a halt infront of there lawn, he got out walking springing to my side to open the door for me

I awkwardly smiled and got out as be slamed the door shut and started walking to the front door as I followed along

I examined my surroundings seeing their lawn perfectly mowed per usual and their front porch always looking effortlessly perfect, I stopped walking behind Sheriff Shoupe as he knocked on the door waiting for an answer

It took a minute for Mrs Thornton to answer the door, she smiled seeing Sheriff Shoupe but that smile faltered a bit seeing me there

Just great

“Sheriff it's nice to see you here with Cassidy” She cheered on with that plastic smile of hers

The sheriff smiled at this

“The pleasure is all mine, Cassidy didn't get to pack anything at all since her parents wanted to see her before they were transported to county prison” he explained as to why I just showed up empty handed with nothing but my phone

She nodded her head

“It's alright there's nothing like a little shopping won't fix for her” she chuckled out

He smiled while I stood there awkwardly

“Well, I should leave you guys to it then..Cassidy..enjoy your time with them and please don't stress over your parents there in great hands” He informed me, Turning to me as I nodded at his response

The sheriff nodded walking past me and right into his car, at Mrs Thornton opened the door more widely and gestured for me to walk in

“Come in please do” She said

As I walked in she the slammed the door shut, locking it making her way into another room in which I followed right behind her

“Mr Thornton or Topper isn't here at the moment which is great so I can just have a talk with you before I show you to your room and then you'll be meeting Both of them after they come in”she explained while taking a seat in her living room I'm guessing

“Sure” I croaked out unsure of what to really say to her

she smiled straightening her posture on the seat

“Okay good, as I'm assuming you already know you'll be the future wife of my son..”she paused looking for my reaction

I nodded pressing my lips onto a thin line looking around for a bit

“Good, there aren't many rules here but for you to always be with Topper outside, there aren't any restrictions or anything in the house…and you can't be out too late now” she finished off

“Okay” I said

“Alright, nice and obedient.. You truly are perfect” She smiled at me as I thanked her for the compliment

“Now I'm gonna show you to the room you'll be using until you and Topper graduate and you can move out and live somewhere by yourselves,” she said getting up and walking up the stairs and then making a left then up a smaller stairs in the corner where I saw three doors lined up next to each other

“that's Topper's room, Your room is right next to his, and The bathroom at the last corner” She explained using her hands

I hummed as she walked to the middle door opening it while walking in, following after her I got inside the bedroom and was amazed at what was infornt of me

It was bigger than all the rooms in my old House combined, I actually had a closet and not just a basket where I fold all my clothes and put them in and a big window scenery. Where I could sit and watch outside

I continued staring around the room twisting and turning as I inspected everything with my mouth agape in shock

“I know right, took my maids a few hours to get room cleaned out and changed into a girl room which was a guest room at first” She explained smiling at my reaction

She took a seat at the edge of the bed patting right next to her for me to sit down beside her, I listened sitting right down next to her

“I’ve never really had this type of experience before, since I've only grown Topper since he was young and his father and I were too busy to even try again” she sighed looking a bit sad

“I get that” I sympathized

She gave me a little smile pulling me into her embrace a bit

“Well, the boys is gonna get here in a few more hours so you have enough time to be alone in your new room for a bit before you meet your future husband” she cheered getting up and was about to leave before I halted her

“Thank you again..i’m sorry for what my parents have caused your family” I apologized

She only smiled at this

“Your parents actions aren't you faults, whatever they did doesn't correlate to you” She said, and then taking her leave shutting the door half open half closed a bit

I rested for a bit laying down on the bed before hearing some voices downstairs after a couple of hours just staring at the ceiling

“I still don’t get why where doing this mom” It was topper

And his mother arguing once again but it seemed like there voices were getting nearer to my room door

I squealed getting up and making myself look at least presentable and straight inform of topper and his father

Right then the door swinged open revealing all here of them Mr and Mrs Thornton and Topper himself all looking at me

Gosh

My breathed was nearly taken away by the sight of Topper, he still looked perfect from when he was younger

I say frozen unable to say a word but watch mindlessly as Mr and Mrs Thornton continued to argue some more

“Your wasting your life mopping behind that Sarah girl when you could be finding yourself a wife to continue the family legacy” his mother grumbled out angryly

“But mom” topper tried to reason out but his mother huffed out walking away from him as his father followed along

He stood there lost in silence

My crush on Topper never subsided even when he used to be jerk with rafe to me and John b and jj I still liked him even after his situation with the cook princess

It seemed like he’s examining me head to toe

We stood there in silence once more

“Enjoy your stay” he said in monotone voice before taking his leave and slamming his door right next to mines

Well that was just great

[skkfujoshi]

You gotta die sometime

Chuuya had never prayed.

As far as he was concerned,having a god you could just talk to kind of defeated the purpose.Why be deferential,respectful when you could just badger the bastard?When you knew you’d always get answers?

Now that he couldn’t do either…He had no choice left but to pray.To pay reverence to the stubborn peace of shit…

He took a deep breath and shoved his hand in his pocket,pulling out a couple of coins.

He was standing in front of one of the very few Ahrahabaki shrines.It was in Surubachi,go figure.

With another deep breath,he tossed the money into the offering box.

Chuuya bowed once,making sure to do so slowly.He bowed again,shutting his eyes.

Right hand tad lower than the left,he clapped.

Once. Twice.

His words were drawn out as he mouthed the plea.

“Please let me fix this.Please let me fix this and not die…”Chuuya whispered

Not the most sophisticated prayer,but it got the point across,he supposed.

A beat.A few.A whole minute…His head still hurt just as bad as it had been hurting that whole week…

Chuuya’s bow this time was quick.He gritted his teeth as he ran down the stairs.He rushed over to his motorcycle,shoving the helmet onto his head and jamming the key into the ignition.

Fine,he’ll fix it himself.

-||||||-

It was two weeks after they got joint custody of Akutagawa when Dazai decided to say it.

“I don’t get it.” “What?”Chuuya asked,looking up from his laptop “Giving up the position you always wanted for some random kid.It’s dumb.That’s supposed to be PM not AM,by the way.” “…It’s 11AM now.You’re not making him train that late at night.” “You’ll ruin him.”Dazai sighed,tossing himself onto their bed

His partner scoffed,closing the file and turning off his laptop.

“Not any worse than you did.” “I just don’t see the angle.You know we’re like…the exception,right?”

Chuuya glared at him.

“He’s certainly not gonna outlive us.And when he kicks the bucket,you’ll have nothing to show for it.” “…So what?I should just not give a shit about anyone?Like you?”

Dazai nodded,smiling innocently.

“Naturally.If everyone were like me,we’d live in a utopia.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes,shutting the laptop and sliding it under the bed.

“Probably because everyone would kill themselves before they could fuck anything up.” “As I said,utopia.” “…Kill yourself.” “I’m trying.”Dazai sang

Chuuya threw himself onto the bed as well,right next to Dazai.

“Is that really how you view the world?People are only worth what they can give you?” “It’s how it is.Take your dear old dad for example.He needs my smarts and my ability,that’s why despite all the times I threaten him he hasn’t put a bullet in my head yet.”

Chuuya moved to lay on his elbows,mouth flat but lips twitching for a moment.Whether they were bound to go downwards or not,Dazai didn’t know,Chuuya quickly schooling his expression.

“Same with you.He gives you the affection and praise.In turn you give your life,power and loyalty.”Dazai said,matter of factly

He hadn’t meant for it to be cruel,hadn’t unnecessarily dragged out the words so they’d sink in further.Maybe he should’ve.

If he had,perhaps Chuuya would have been too taken aback to wrap his hand around Dazai’s throat.Not that Dazai was complaining,Chuuya’s weight on him and the pressure on his neck was the closest to death he’d been the whole week.Considering how slow work’s been going he’d gladly take this.

But on a practical level he had to admit it was a bit of a problem.

“Take that back.”Chuuya ordered “Why?I’m not wrong.Sure,if you die your father might miss you but that won’t really matter will it?At the end of the day,you’ll still have some equally powerful shmuck taking your place after a week.Maybe even less.”

Chuuya’s nails scraped as his hold on Dazai’s throat tightened,spots starting to dance at the edge of the brunette’s vision.

“Take.It.Back.” “This is an enterprise first and foremost,Chuuya.The faster you accept that,the better.”Dazai panted

Chuuya’s hand tightened further for just a moment,a breathy laugh coming out of Dazai at the feeling.But then,Chuuya got off with a scoff,hurriedly pulling his hair into a ponytail.

“You know,I pity you.” “Do you?Why’s that?” “Because when you finally kill yourself nobody will miss or mention you.And that’s really fucking sad.”Chuuya spat,turning back to him

His glare didn’t stay long,instead soon sinking into annoyance.His teeth weren’t bared for long either with his lips promptly tightening into a thin line.

His eyebrows fell quickly as well,mouth tugging downwards.For a moment Dazai thought he might’ve spotted a flicker of guilt or even worse sympathy.Before Chuuya could say a word more,he beat him to it.

“Maybe.But at least I have nothing and no one to lose.”

They both went to bed without another word.

|- - - - - -|

“Don’t know whether this is worse or better than the paperwork”Kunikida said shutting the door of Yosano’s office

Dazai put the last scalpel away as he straightened up.

“Definitely better.This way none of you have to look at my handwriting.” “Mhh…So you and Atsushi talked?” “Yup.And surprisingly he’s against it just as much as the rest of you.I know,shocker.”

Kunikida rolled his eyes and pulled up a chair as Dazai kicked the drawer closed. “Why?” “I already told you why I want to kill-“ “Not why you want to kill him.Why you haven’t done it yet.”

Dazai blinked at Kunikida,the two staring at one another for an awkwardly long moment.

“So?” “I can’t just break into-“ “You could and would.You grew up there,you know that building like the back of your hand.You had no problem getting out before,you should have no problem getting in.”

Dazai was surprised by the matter of fact quality of his partner’s tone.Notably,a much different tune than he was singing when Dazai first informed them of his intentions.The brunette quirked his brow and snorted.

“Think I won’t do it?” “I think you’re stalling.” “My plans take time.” “Only when you want them to.”

Dazai sat himself down on the table and crossed his legs,leaning forward.Kunikida seemed unbothered.

Which really just meant he wasn’t getting off his back any time soon.

“Can you tell me what this is really about?”

Kunikida,without a word ,pulled out a small photo.

“Two years.Still in your apartment.” “…I never said I’d be happy about it.” “There’s a big difference between “not happy about it” and “it will destroy me”,Dazai.” “Oh please,don’t be so dramatic.”

Kunikida scoffed.

“Dramatic?Dazai,the entire time we dated,you barely kept his name out of your mouth and you thought he was dead at the time.” “I didn’t think he was dead.I thought it was po-“ “Big difference.And don’t think for a second that I didn’t notice how you two were when he showed up here.”

Dazai got off and stretched his arms above his head.

“Look,I’m tired of repeating the same spiel about why you shouldn’t kill him.You already heard all the reasons,so I won’t bother.” “But?” “Don’t force us to pick up the pieces when you don’t make it through this ok.”Kunikida said getting up and reaching for the handle

He turned back to Dazai as he opened the door.

“Please.”

And with that,Dazai was back to being alone in Yosano’s office.He plopped himself onto the floor and groaned as he ran his hand through his hair.

Sometimes he really missed not giving a shit about anyone…Caring made people’s lack of understanding infinitely less entertaining.

Dazai swung his fist at the heavens.

“Damn you.”he said halfheartedly Who he was damning,he had no clue.

Could’ve been Kunikida,Chuuya,Mori(though for that he would’ve had to swing down)…Possibly Odasaku for putting him into this mess.

Heck,maybe even the universe itself.

Not that it really…

“Suddenly I get this urge to end this life of mine,hanging from the ceiling a rope I’m gonna tie”interrupted Dazai’s ring tone

Dazai smiled despite himself as he pocketed his phone.He was half tempted to just let the song play,purely because it always put him in such a good mood.He changed his mind when he saw the caller ID,cutting the refrain short as he picked up.

“Hey Ango,what’s-“ “Dazai,we have a problem!Fyodor faked his own death and now he’s on the loose!We’re searching for him right now.Tell the-“ “I’ll tell Ranpo,just tell us where you’re at and we’ll be there in a few.” “Immigration office.” ”Got it.Talk to you later.”Dazai said getting up and ending the call

-

Three hours…Three hours and no luck at all.It almost seemed like a joke.Most people would have to try to be as unfortunate as Chuuya was right now

Maybe this was divine punishment.If so…. “Way to be petty, ‘Baki.”he muttered under his breath,before taking another sip of the shitty gas station coffee

His phone rang and while he hoped it was Akutagawa,that possibility was almost immediately dashed.He sighed as he picked up.

“Hey,sis.” “Not going well?”Kōyo asked “Nope…Three hours of looking and not a sign of him.” “How long do you plan to keep going? “Until I get him.”

Kōyo gave a hearty sigh in response.

“For tonight,Chuuya.” “For tonight…Probably an hour more.” “Better than until midnight,I suppose.Good luck.” “Thank you. “Oh and one more thing.” “Hmm?” “Told you so.”she teased

Chuuya rolled his eyes.

“Very funny.Talk to you later.” “See ya.”she said,hanging up

Chuuya put his phone back in his pocket and leaned against the gas station wall,finishing off his coffee.He checked the cup and sure enough…

He groaned.Empty.And he still felt tired as shit.Maybe he should get a energy bar from the vending machine or something…

He peaked trough the glass door,ascertaining his options.Just as Chuuya figured that he didn’t like any of them,he saw a black haired man walk out of the bathroom.He was pale with purple eyes and was currently getting tea on the cofee machine.

He had Fyodor’s features basically memorized,the rat’s photo having been on his desk constantly for almost a month.This man was a dead ringer.

Of course,lookalikes happened.He couldn’t just assume.

After a quick toss of his plastic cofee cup into a trash bin,Chuuya pushed the door open and made his way over to the vending machine.His eyes flicked over to the Fyodor lookalike.He seemed confused,squinting at some piece of text on his own machine.

Inconspicuously,browsing the snack options,Chuuya asked:”Need some help?” “Yes actually…You see my Japanese isn’t the best,so it appears instead of the coffee I wanted,I ordered tea instead…”he mumbled in a thick Russian accent “Ah.Happens to the best of us.Allow me.”Chuuya said walking over

After a few moments,the cup was filled.

“Thank you…Sorry,I don’t think I caught your name.” “Dazai.”

Like hell was he giving his real one.

“And you are?” “Nikolai.” “Sounds Russian.New here?The accent sounds pretty fresh still.” “Yes.Arrived in the city yesterday,in fact.Starting a small buisness.”

Buisness,terrorism,same difference.

“I see.Well,good luck with that.” “Thank you kindly for your assistance.”he said with a smile that Chuuya found too smug

Chuuya smiled in turn,giving a small wave as he watched the man walk trough the door.He made his way over to a recently arrived Lada Niva.

Durable car,Chuuya noted to himself.A man with long white hair and an almost dreamy expression leaned out,the two exchanging words quickly.

Chuuya’s eyes widened.Ivan Goncharov,another member of the Rats.

He tried to read their lips but unfortunately he didn’t know Russian,so it was as if he hadn’t made the attempt at all.

Then Fyodor got in and they drove away.Chuuya waited a few moments,taking measured but larger than usual steps towards his bike.He glanced at the small wooded area off to the side of the actual road.

He threw his leg over and put the helmet back on.This way he’ll have a better chance of taking them by surprise. _

Dazai stared at the ocean,wanting to hurl.He hadn’t eaten anything bad,he was sure.There was no build up of vomit.

He just felt sick,but he didn’t know why.

“Dazai!Dazai are you even listening!?”Ranpo demanded

Dazai turned to him with an embarrassed smile.

“No,sorry.I was just thinking about how refreshing this water looks and -“ “Ugh,you’re so boring!It’s always suicide this and suicide that with you.Forget I asked.”he grumbled”When’s the cab coming?” “Twenty minutes or so.”

The detective lit up.

“Great,I’ll tell you how I cracked this Fyodor thing wide open,since you were talking with Four eyes the whole time.”

Dazai nodded and listened,stomach still uneasy when they got into the cab.

-

“Slumber of death to all ability users,for the resurrection of my beloved.” “You’re getting really fucking repetitive Hawthorne…”Chuuya panted

Damn bastard hooked the bike with his freaky blood tendrils…He really hated those things…At least with Rūyunosuke,Chuuya could afford a cut or two…These he couldn’t even touch…

He might as well have had Dazai glued to his back.

Nathaniel didn’t respond,sending another red string out,another strike landing harshly against the gravitational field around Chuuya’s body,actually working a grunt out of him.

Relentless bastard…How long could he keep this up?If his ability worked similarly to Akutagawa he should’ve been down for the count by now…But Chuuya didn’t even hear a single labored breath,Nathaniel’s ability still pushing against his own without stop.

Chuuya wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.’Tainted’ was usually a breeze to use offensively,he’d just have to change the density of an object and let good aim do the rest but he was feeling every strike as if I it was landing against him…

He scoffed,a bit amused.He remembered Verlaine once told him not to rely on fields like this.He supposed he knew why now.It was fucking exhausting.

Chuuya looked at his bike,laying limply on the ground behind Nathaniel.The tires seemed good still.He just has to find a way to get to it…

Chuuya looked around them.They were in a small clearing yet were still surrounded by trees…

He took a deep breath and focused on the ground…This should be easy.Easier then breathing.And yet Chuuya wasn’t feeling it give him even an inch…Almost as the earth itself was resisting his ability.

“Come on…Come on….”

What was going wrong?

Chuuya’s eyes widened.

He’s not using his full strength.He has to dissolve the field…

Which was a terrible idea,dangerously stupid and should’ve never crossed his goddamn mind but…

He stretched his legs and sighed.

“One.Lift your foot.”he instructed to himself under his breath”Two.Hold it.”

He exhaled deeply.

“Three.Release.”

The field shattered as Chuuya brought his foot down with a loud crack.The ground fractured in a web of jagged lines,surrounding Nathaniel.Chuuya kicked into the air,sending the priest flying at what he was sure was a mocha speed.

Chuuya didn’t waste time waiting though.If this fucker could lift himself with his tendrils like Akutagawa could…He ran over to his bike panting still and turned the engine back on.The wind whipped past his face,Chuuya breathing a sigh of relief as he made it back out onto the main road.At 90 miles per hour he could probably-

Chuuya gasped as he felt a sharp pain in his side.He looked down,eyes wide in disbelief at the red stain beginning to form on his leather jacket.After eight years…A bullet had finally hit him…

First overall AU info post

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[winmance]

In Your Defense - Chapter 8 (AO3)

Laurent is set to be released at four pm the next day and Damen is waiting outside at three, having no intention of being late. He barely slept last night, overwhelmed by the victory of the hearing, but also by the worries over Laurent’s reactions - or more precisely, his lack of it. It’s a bittersweet victory, which is not something he is used to.

The battle is still far from over, but he does find comfort in knowing that Laurent won’t have to spend all those months in jail, waiting for his trial. Auguste had spent one whole year in jail before the final verdict was pronounced. Laurent, who was still a minor back then, had been forbidden from seeing him or contacting him. That rule is still enforced, as it was extended until Laurent reached twenty. Damen had been the one proposing the deal, but he hadn’t been the one proposing the idea. It was Kastor, who claimed that Laurent, as a potential victim, needed time to heal away from his brother. It seemed like a good idea, back then, but now Damen wonders who’s idea this truly was.

He still hasn’t opened the box he found at Dad’s place. He had put it in the living room, at first, but it felt weird, illegal in some way. He kept thinking someone was going to come in and stole it from him. He put it in his bedroom, then, but he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing it, and he reluctantly hid it under his bed. Still, the box is here, and Damen, for some obscure reasons, is scared of it.

It’s snowing again today, but now the temperatures have truly dropped and despite his thick coat, Damen can’t help but shiver, his teeth clapping against each other with each step he takes. He isn’t made for those low temperatures.

When he goes inside, Laurent is already waiting for him, hands still handcuffed. When he recognizes Damen, the guard next to Laurent pulls on his handcuffs to motion him to move.

“Careful,” Damen warns.

The guard shoots him a weird look but doesn’t say anything. Damen follows them as they start to walk towards one of the rooms where Laurent will be giving some clothes before completing some admin tasks and finally, getting his electronic bracelet before freedom. It should take one hour, top, and after that Damen will drop him off to whatever address Laurent will give him. He wonders if Laurent is going back to his Uncle, or if he’s going to live off with a friend. Last week, he had asked to see the records of all the visits Laurent had while in jail, to see if maybe he could find someone that would be willing to make a testimony in his favor. The answer had come back not even ten minutes after: Laurent had 0 visitors, in the one month and a half he spent in jail. No. That wasn’t correct, actually. It was written that Laurent’s uncle had tried to come and see his nephew, but that Laurent had declined the offer.

“That’s not my clothes,” Laurent says.

“Your clothes are part of the investigation,” Damen explains.

“I have to wear this?”

The clothes Laurent is holding are way too big for him, Damen can already tell, and their colors are more than questionable. Granted, he had known that they wouldn’t give Laurent fresh, new clothes, but they could at least wash them.

“Or you can go back to jail. Your choice,” the guard says.

Laurent makes a face and takes the clothes from the guard’s hands.

“Where can I change?

“Here, pretty. There’s no privacy in jail, you should know that by now,” the guard winks in Damen’s direction. “Give us a little show, while you’re at it.”

The guard looks at Laurent up and down, and Damen feels his blood boiling under his skin. Laurent is about to start undressing, but he puts his hand on top of his to stop him.

“He’s not changing here. There’s a bathroom down the wall, he’ll use it.”

“That’s not the protocol.”

“Did I ask?” Damen says harshly. “Laurent, you can go to the bathroom. You have five minutes.”

Laurent waits an instant before moving and when he finally does, he has a smirk on his face. The guard, who Damen didn’t even bother to remember the name, looks infuriated. Good, Damen thinks.

“Do you know who my dad is?” Damen asks.

“No, and I don’t-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence. I’m going to make it clear: talk to him like that just one more time, and I’ll make you lose your job. Am I being clear?”

When Laurent comes back, he’s wearing clothes that are big enough to fit two of him in it, and that are way too thin for the season. Damen tries to rationalize that it’s only for a short amount of time, before Laurent is back to his place and can get some nice, fitting clothes.

The now quiet guard moves on to the rest of the procedure and gives Laurent a form to fill. On it, are basic information, such as his name, age, nationality, address, phone number, etc. On the second page, are lists all the conditions to Laurent’s temporary freedom, a bunch of rules that he will have to follow closely if he wants to stay outside. It includes no use of drugs or alcohol, no communication with the persons involved in the case, meeting with an officer, and on, and on. So many rules that seem pointless, but that Laurent will have to memorize.

“Why do they need my phone number?”

“They will send you a text every now and then to give you an update about your meeting with your parole officer.”

“But I don’t have a phone anymore.”

“Did they forget to give it back?”

Laurent’s pink tongue escapes his mouth to lick his lips and Damen follows the movement.

“I threw it away so they couldn’t track me when I was with Nicaise.”

“Put mine. I’ll give you all the info.”

He gives his number to Laurent, who carefully writes it down before proceeding to continue his reading. After a while without writing, Damen notices Laurent looks hesitant, as if he isn’t sure of what to put down. The information that is asked is pretty basic, and so he walks over and gets closer to him, until he’s so close that he can feel the body heat emanating from Laurent. When Damen speaks, his voice is barely a whisper and he gets even closer, just to make sure that Laurent can in fact hear him.

“Do you need my help?”

“I know how to write and read, thank you.”

Laurent moves away from him and quickly fills up the form. He handles it to the guard and moves to the next station. Electronic bracelet.

“Right leg,” the man orders.

“Would you rather have it on the other side?” Damen asks. He thinks back of the video of Laurent’s injury, the way his right ankle had cracked.

“No.”

Laurent lifts his leg so that the man can put the electronic device on it. His skin is pale here, too, and he barely has any hair or if he does, they’re so blonde that Damen can’t see them. The scar is still red, despite all the years that have passed, which tells Damen that the injury wasn’t treated properly.

“Are you popping a boner by looking at my ankle? What century is this?”

Laurent’s eyebrows are up and although he’s trying to be provocative, his cheeks are slightly pink, as well as the tip of his nose. He looks like a doll. Damen looks away.

The guard proceeds to explain all the details of Laurent's “freedom”, and this time Laurent listens carefully. If he misses any of his appointments, he’s facing going right back to jail and this time, Damen won’t be able to get him out. Once it’s finally all done, they’re being walked to the door and when Damen opens it for them, Laurent stops.

“We have time,” Damen says.

“Speak for yourself,” Laurent mumbles.

Then he starts walking without slowing down and once he’s out, he stops again and lifts his head, eyes closed. The cold snow is falling on his face, on his pale eyelid, and on his still visible injuries. His chest rises and falls slowly, each one of his breaths a new memory being created. Damen watches without a sound, the coldness from earlier a long time gone. He wonders, suddenly, if Laurent misses figure skating.

“We should go,” he says after a while. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay there without a coat on.”

“Yes,” Laurent says.

They walk to Damen’s car who, thankfully, isn’t parked too far from the entrance. As soon as they’re inside, Damen starts the car and puts the heat on maximum. Laurent, who’s wearing nothing but an old thin sweater, looks unbothered.

“Do we need a GPS?” Damen asks.

“No, I know how to get there. I’ll give you indications.”

He starts driving, following Laurent instructions closely. He makes a mental note to check the adresse once he will have dropped Laurent. They will send him the form he filled up earlier, but he doesn’t have a good feeling about this and suspects Laurent has put a false address. It’s not that he doesn’t trust him - it’s that Laurent doesn’t trust anyone. Not yet.

“Thank you, by the way,” Laurent says after half an hour of driving.

“Can you be more precise?”

“For putting the guard back to his place.”

Damen turns to look at Laurent, who’s rubbing his wrists tenderly, his eyes fixed on the road. He has red marks on his skin from wearing the handcuffs.

“Of course. He was such an asshole. We should make a report on his behavior. I was with you, but what if he does that again to someone else?”

“I suppose you could, yes.”

“Why couldn’t you?”

“Men like that are protected. You can’t go against them if you don’t have any back up.”

“I disagree. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Ask Auguste, next time you see him,” Laurent says, before quickly adding. “Slow down, we’re almost there.”

It’s a part of town Damen only knows by name, due to its bad reputation. There’s no restaurant, no companies, not even a school around here. Unfortunately, poverty is often linked to violence and in this town, it’s hard to say which of the two is more predominant.

“Are you getting scared for your car?” Laurent teases him.

“I don’t care much about my car.”

“Really? I thought you were a fan too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Daddy and big bro are fans of cars, are they’re not?”

Damen frowns and looks at Laurent. He can’t read the expression on his face.

“How do you know that?”

“Read it in an article.”

“Do you keep track of everything my family does?”

“It’s here,” Laurent says, pointing to one of the buildings.

The question is left hanging, but Damen quickly forgets about it once he sees the building Laurent is pointing at. It’s a miracle the place is still standing, with how old and dilapidated it is. Damen thinks it may have been an old factory. He can read “Safe Harbor”, in red, almost wash-out painting, on the front of the building. They are tents in the street, with a concentration around the building, and when the realization sticks down, Damen feels his heart dropping to his stomach.

“It’s a shelter.”

“I called before. They said I could come.”

“But it’s a shelter,” Damen says again, unable to understand it.

“Did you hit your head? You keep repeating the same stuff.”

“I thought you would be going to your uncle’s house.”

“I’d rather die.”

The look Laurent gives him is enough to make Damen avert his gaze. Laurent opens the door and steps outside. He doesn’t have a coat on and now Damen knows he won’t have one tomorrow either.

“I’ll stop by your office on Monday if that’s good for you.”

“Sure.”

It isn’t good, obviously. Erasmus can’t know that Damen is helping Laurent, or at least not now, when so many questions are left hanging, but Damen can’t make a full sentence, his mouth refusing to work properly. He will deal with it later, he decides. He knows where Laurent is, he can always drop by if needed, which is great because Laurent doesn’t have a phone. He can’t text him, can’t call him. If he’s in danger or hurt, Laurent will have to rely on his voice to get help. Damen won’t know it, unless a hospital or police trip is needed, in which case Laurent may be facing jail again, even if he’s the victim.

But Laurent is already inside the building, away from Damen’s peripheral vision. Monday. They will see each other on Monday. He starts the car again and drives to his apartment.

Damen isn’t ashamed to say that he was born and raised in a rich family. His parents owned several properties. His great, great grandfather started his own law firm more than one century ago now, and since then, the firm had done nothing but grow, becoming closer to an empire than a family business like it once was. Damen went into a private daycare, then a private school, then to the best university in the whole country. He studied abroad, too, and did his internship in some of the biggest companies in the world. He never experienced hunger. Never experienced limitations. If he wanted a new car, his dad would get it for him. If he wanted a private jet to take his girlfriend of the week to France, all he had to do was send a text.

Laurent’s family used to be like that, too, and he knows Laurent's childhood was rocked by money and fame. From the moment he was born, Laurent has been a star, idolized by millions. Damen has found articles with Laurent, barely three months old, in a trophy his mother won. She didn’t stop figure skating when she was pregnant with him. Damen himself was too young to be aware of it back then, but there are many articles about the scandal that emanated from it. She was refused participation in the competition, yet she continued to train, day after day. There’s no question about who Laurent gets his behavior from.

Now, Laurent sleeps in a shelter, in clothes that don’t belong to him, with nothing to call him, not even a coat to put on his shoulders. It doesn’t make sense. Laurent’s parents are dead and with Auguste in jail, the sole heir is Laurent. How come Damen never questioned it? Laurent had called him, of all people, to ask for help because he had no money to pay for another lawyer, and Damen had agreed without asking any questions. He had been so caught up with Auguste's potential innocence that he had forgotten to do his job properly. Dad would slap him behind the head, if he knew.

The cat is still hiding when Damen comes home, yet his bowl of food is a bit emptier. Not empty, because his cat apparently doesn’t like to eat, even though Damen paid $50 for one bag of dry food.

He gets on with his usual routine: he goes for a run for one hour, until his lungs are burning and his nose is so red he can’t feel it anymore, then he takes a too long shower, during which he tries to keep his mind occupied and away from Laurent. It doesn’t work. When he takes his clothes off, he wonders if Laurent has been given new, clean and warm clothes. His shower is big enough to fit three people at least and he lets the cold water run off before entering it. He doesn’t know if they have functioning showers at the shelter, and if they do, if they’re lucky enough to be able to use hot water. He imagines it to be like in jail: a community bathroom, where Laurent can trip over again and burst his face open. A part of him hopes he’s just too rich to know exactly how a shelter runs. Another part of him thinks that what he imagines may be better than the reality of it.

After his shower is over, he goes straight to the living room and sits on the couch, remote in hand. He scrolls through Netflix, trying to find something to watch, but he gets bored with each movie he starts playing. He doesn’t feel like watching a Christmas movie, and even less a horror one. Do they have TV, at the shelter? In jail, they have one, Damen knows that. It’s an old TV, with only a few movies and channels available. He has trouble imagining Laurent sitting down in a room full of people, inmates or not, to watch a movie. He seems more like the type to read a book, alone in a room, with a cat on his lap. Well, not Damen’s cat, obviously, since the little monster still refuses to even let Damen approach him.

“I should find you a name,” Damen says aloud. The cat doesn’t answer.

It’s already eleven when Damen decides to move to his bedroom. The TV is boring and his mind is too busy to focus, sleep is the last resort to try to find peace.

Sleep doesn’t come.

Damen closes his eyes but it physically hurts to do so. He opens them again. He’s surrounded by darkness and can’t even see his own hands. He can only feel his own touch and listen to his own heartbeat. Sometimes, he wishes there was someone next to him, a person he could reach to, a waist he could touch, a voice he could hear. Jokaste was there, not so long ago, yet she feels like a distant memory. She hated to be held during her sleep. If Damen couldn’t sleep, she would tell him to go into one of the guest rooms. But back then, Damen was working so many hours that sleep wasn’t an issue. He would come home and be so exhausted that it took him less than five minutes to fall asleep. His mind was never racing like that either. Sure, he had some complex and difficult cases over the years, including some involving his dad’s friends, or even his own a couple of times. None of them were sleeping in a shelter. None of them had to stay in jail for more than a couple of hours. None of them were Laurent.

It’s one in the morning when he gets out of bed. He tells himself he’s just going for a ride to clear his head, because that is the truth. He just needs to be out, to turn his brain off. To think of something that isn’t Laurent sleeping in a shelter. Is it safe, in those places? Can Laurent fall asleep without worrying about someone trying to rob him? It’s a stupid thought. Laurent doesn’t have anything worth stealing. Damen’s stomach clenches. Is a shelter better than jail?

He gets into his car and starts driving.

Dad used to do that, sometimes. He would wake up during the night and drive for hours, with no destination in mind. Night run , he used to call them. Mom had already been dead when he started doing this, and Damen always wondered if his dad had come up with this night routine after she died or if it was something he used to do before, but stopped because spending time with mom was more important to him than running away into the night. He never asked dad and instead, every time, he would watch his dad leave the house at random hours of the night, only to come back when the sun was already starting to rise.

He had asked dad, once, where he was doing during all those hours by himself. He had thought that maybe dad was visiting a woman at first, but back then Damen was already fifteen and the number of women that had come to their house proved that dad didn’t feel the need to hide.

I’m visiting memories, Dad had said.

Damen drives to his dad’s house, first. Through one of the windows, he can see that the light is still on in his dad’s bedroom. What would dad do, if Damen stopped his car and went knocking on his door? Would he let him in? Would he be worried, just for a second, that something had happened?

He continues to drive.

The graveyard is only twenty minutes away from their house. At mom’s funeral, her sister had cried and begged his dad to let her take her sister’s back to their homeland. Their parents were dead, too, and they were waiting to reunite with their daughter. Damen was barely five when his mom died, and the day of her funeral is nothing but a blurry souvenir, and yet he remembers this woman, an aunt that he had only seen twice in his life, begging through her tears to take her little sister’s home. She would have wanted to be with her family , she had said, and Dad had replied, She wanted to be with me, alive or dead. Damen had started crying, after this, and Dad had to ask one of the nannies to take him away. He thought mom would have wanted to be with him, more than with anyone else. She had carried him in her womb for nine months, and had gone through the extreme pain of childbirth for him. She had called for him, in her final moment. Not for dad. Not for her parents. Not for her sister. For him.

He may not be able to see her face in his mind, or to hear her voice in his ears, but Damen can still feel her love, even so many years after she’s been gone. Mom had loved him unconditionally.

His drive takes him in front of Kastor’s house, but he doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t want to know if his brother is here, and even less if Jokaste is here, too. He thinks of Laurent, who drove for hours to get to his brother’s jail, even though he couldn’t even get close enough to see the building. Laurent, who adores his brother so much that, despite everything that Auguste has done, is still willing to fight for him. He thinks of the two brothers, who haven’t seen or talked to each other in years.

Without meaning to, he ends up in the same street he was this afternoon.

The street is dark, the ground covered by thick, white snow. There is no light in the shelter, and for a moment, he imagines Laurent inside, sleeping in a warm bed with his belly full.

But Laurent is here. Sitting outside, with his head against the wall, his eyes closed. The snow is falling on his face but he doesn’t seem to notice or to care.

He stops his car and opens his window, but no words come out of his mouth. He doesn’t know what to say and so he stares at Laurent, eyes closed under the snow, his lips blue and his body shaking. He was someone's baby, one day. His parents must have been excited to meet him, they probably made so many wishes for him, for what his life would be. Surely, they wanted him to be loved and warmed, safe and happy. It feels suddenly so unfair for Laurent to have suffered this much - to still suffer like this. Laurent, his cat, him, it’s all the same stories. Because no one loves them anymore, they deserve less. Because they’re no one's baby anymore, they’re left to die in the cold, alone and unwanted.

“I’m not for sale,” Laurent says without opening his eyes.

“Well I am working free of charge, am I not?”

Laurent’s blue eyes opened up, just for a second, but he closed them back almost immediately and put his head back against the cold wall behind him.

“Is it comfortable?” Damen asks.

“Very. Do you stalk all your clients like that?”

“Only the ones that are in dangerous situations.”

“I am not.”

It’s three am. There’s still at least five hours before the sun gets up and even then, the weather won’t be nicer. People will start coming in the street, through, and Laurent will be here, half asleep, completely alone and vulnerable.

“You said you called,” Damen says after a while.

“I did.”

“Then what are you doing outside, in the middle of the night?”

“There’s no more room. They said I could still put the address on my record and sleep outside.”

“How is that allowed? You can’t just let someone sleep outside in this weather. That’s insane.”

Laurent doesn’t answer.

“Come,” Damen says.

Laurent opens his eyes again and this time, he stares at Damen for a long moment. He’s still not moving and Damen isn’t sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to, or if his body has been crushed by all the snow on top of it. But then, very slowly, Laurent gets up and makes his way forwards to the car. Damen unlocks the doors and once Laurent is set up, he starts driving.

It feels like an out of body experience. He’s driving the car on autopilot, pushing away all the thoughts that are rushing in his mind. He could lose his license for this and by cascade, he could lose his family’s firm. He wouldn’t be a lawyer anymore and somehow, the idea doesn’t scare him. There’s a feeling of relief, somewhere in his body, and then of immense guilt once he realizes it.

Next to him, Laurent is still shaking. His hands are a weird shade of white and red, yet he doesn’t seem able to do much about it. His head is against the window and he’s trying his hardest not to close his eyes.

The light is red. Damen puts the heat on maximum, takes his coat off and puts it on Laurent.

The light is green. They’re moving again, in silence. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s something, but Damen can’t put his finger on it.

Once they’ve reached his apartment, he parks his car and turns the engine off. Without the constant movement of the vehicle, reality comes crashing down and it takes several seconds for Damen to remember how to move. When he does, he opens his door without a word and waits for Laurent to follow him, which he does reluctantly.

One turn of the key, then two and they’re in his apartment. Damen doesn’t turn to look at Laurent. If he doesn’t look, he can convince himself that all of this is in his head.

“Sit wherever you want,” he tells Laurent, while walking into the kitchen.

Once he’s alone there, he goes straight to the sink and drinks directly from it. Maybe Ancel has been right all this time and Damen is truly losing his mind after all. There’s no other explanation.

He walks back in the living room and finds Laurent standing in front of the door, back against it. Damen frowns. They’ve barely arrived, he can’t possibly want to leave already?

“My clothes are soaked,” Laurent finally says. “Even my socks. I’m going to ruin your apartment if I move.”

“I don’t care,” Damen says too fast. “I’ll give you some clothes. You can take a shower, if you want. That will help you warm up.”

Laurent nods and quietly follows Damen to the bathroom. He’s aware he should be giving him some kind of tour of the apartment, but it’s well past three now, they still haven’t slept and the weight of the day is crushing him down. He wants to lay down and close his eyes, to forget just for a moment in what a fucking mess he just put himself into.

“I’ll leave the clothes right here,” he says, pointing to the buffet in the hallway. “You can use all the products you want. The towels are under the sink.”

Laurent nods again, not a sound leaving his throat, and it feels like looking at a scared child, who any moment from now will start crying. The contrast with the man Damen has been getting to know those past few weeks is undeniable.

Laurent goes into the bathroom and locks the door after himself.

Damen starts cleaning the floor, where Laurent has left a puddle of water with every step he takes, and once he’s done, he moves to the guest room. It’s been months since he had someone sleep at his place, but lucky for him, it had been Ancel, and his friend had decided to « redo » the room during his stay there. They weren’t particularly close by then, yet Ancel took everything that looked like a souvenir from Jokaste and put it in the bin. He hadn’t even asked Damen before doing so, but he didn't mind one bit, quite the opposite. He’s especially thankful today. He wouldn’t have wanted Laurent to see pictures of Jokaste displayed in the room.

He puts on new bed coverings, checks there isn’t any dust left on the furniture and puts the heater a bit higher. He goes back to his room and takes the first pair of clothes he can find without checking them first. He doesn’t want to choose what Laurent will be wearing. He doesn’t want to think of Laurent wearing his clothes.

When he walks past the bathroom again, he can still hear the shower running.

The cat is under the couch, as usual, but Damen still takes the time to greet him. The cat doesn’t do so much as spare him a second look, not that Damen had expected anything else from him.

He should be preparing to go to sleep, but he can’t do so until Laurent is out of the shower and he’s also aware that there’s a good possibility that Laurent didn’t eat tonight. Damen himself didn’t.

He doesn’t know what Laurent likes and at this hour of the night, only a few fast food restaurants are still open, all the restaurants having long been closed. Still, he orders enough food to feed the whole building, just to make sure that Laurent will find his happiness.

The door rings just five minutes before Laurent appears in the living room. He’s wearing Damen’s favorite hoodie and one of his sweatpants. Both are way too big for him and while it should be ridiculous, it is quite the opposite. For the first time, Laurent looks comfortable, refreshed. Damen wants to make him lay down before rolling him like a burrito inside the cover.

“How was the shower?”

“Adequate.”

“Cool. I ordered food.”

Laurent smiles, shy and a bit embarrassed.

“I can see that, yes. Do I… I don’t have money.”

“Really? I thought you were sleeping in the street willingly.”

“Funny.”

Laurent rolls his eyes, yet when Damen offers him to sit on the couch, he does so, bringing his knees as close as possible to his chest. The situation is weird, there’s no denying it, but it’s already early morning, and Damen thinks that it can wait until tomorrow. There’s a storm coming, he can feel it deep in his bones, the same way he can feel that he has taken a decision that will change the course of his life. Yet, Laurent is safe and warm, his belly will soon be full and for the moment, that’s all that matters.

[chloeangelic]

Pls write SUBJECT and description only sentences for a group orgy. You, me, & @toxicanonymity with my mm!joel.

Nice big group fuck. I feel like he needs this to boost his self esteem. And so help me god if you don’t fully direct every single thing that’s happening… 🫵🏼=👊🏼

I love you so fucking much

Hi Gracie, I hope this is sufficient.

Cheers, Chloe

Maintenance man!Joel group bang with special guests 

Pairing: @gracieispunk x @toxicanonymity x Chloe Angelic x maintenance man!Joel x Father Joel x Lincoln!Joel x f!reader 

Warnings: This is garbage just don't read it if you don’t wanna see a shitty blasphemous 6some, idk what to tell you anymore. I promise this is my second to last satire fic until I hit 2k.

Word count: 1k 18+ 

You’re hanging out with three of your friends; Toxic, Gracie, and Chloe. They are all giving you ideas for your fics. They all think you should write infidelity, you were thinking something more along the lines of fluffy flirting with your dad’s best friend. They think it might be a bit tame. Chloe thinks you should make him cry at some point in the fic, she's clearly in a bit of an angst phase. You think Toxic and Gracie are more fun.

Gracie downs the last of her wine and says “We’re all horny sluts and I have an idea”.  She goes over to her kitchen sink and yanks on it until it breaks. She picks up her phone and calls the maintenance man. That’s Joel Miller. She says “Joel, I know it’s ten PM but my sink broke because I am a little slut and I need you to come over and fix it or else I will report you to the building manager as being not very helpful to me, a damsel in distress”. She hangs up. 

Joel shows up wearing a tool belt and he is fully dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans and a wedding ring because he’s married. “Well, well, well” Gracie says and takes him by the hand to leads him into the living room where there is a massive California king bed. There’s also a stripper pole in the middle of the room, and now Chloe’s self indulgent fics about pole dancing make sense to you. 

Unfortunately, Gracie’s sink is indeed broken now so you all have to sit in silence and watch as maintenance man Joel huffs and puffs and fixes the sink. “I’m was planning on leavin' after this,” he says, “But now you’re all naked and annoying and my cock is hard again so I have no choice but to fuck all of you little sluts”. Everyone cheers and claps. You can’t believe it, you thought he only existed in Gracie’s fics and now you get to fuck him IRL. 

A shadow appears in the hallway. Toxic shouts, “Hey, get back to the brothel! You don’t belong in this crossover!”. The shadow is gone. You don’t know who it was, although Chloe says she hopes it was Lincoln Joel because he looks hot and she’s had a bit of a weird crush on him ever since she saw a fanart of him with slicked back hair and a white t-shirt, but he is ultimately very creepy so she doesn’t think that would be a great idea. However, maybe fucking him with supervision would be okay. You both mentally move on. 

Maintenance man Joel takes off his pants and his above average sized cock is on full display. All four of you take turns sucking and fucking him and the whole ordeal is pretty gross when you think about it since there is spit and cum everywhere. 

Maintenance man Joel is overwhelmed to say the least. He is watching Chloe stripping while fucking Gracie who is going down on Toxic while you ride her face. You didn’t think the logistics of this would work but here you are. 

There’s a knock on the door and a man comes in, announcing his presence. 

Oh no, it’s Father Joel. Chloe forgot she invited him over. 

“Damn it, Father Joel,” she says, “I forgot I invited you over and now we’re having a group fuck and we need an extra dick so maybe it’s convenient that you showed up cause you’re a corrupt freak with a massive cock”. 

Father Joel stands in the middle of the living room while Chloe takes a break to drink some water and he takes off his pants to reveal his absolutely enormous cock. Maintenance man Joel rolls his eyes; Toxic and Gracie are all very interested in Father Joel all of a sudden. Chloe thinks that this is her chance to finally eat her leftover gluten free lasagna and says “I hate Father Joel anyways so please take him” and he loves the attention. 

Gracie gets on her knees in front of Father Joel and says “Please, Father, give me that dick”. Then he slaps her on the face with his cock and gives her a communion cracker. It doesn’t taste like much. Then she sucks his dick. 

You get on maintenance man Joel’s lap and start bouncing on his cock and asking how to stop your closet doors from jumping out of their tracks. He starts explaining and it’s incredibly boring but useful information.

Chloe and Toxic are looking at each other like “What the fuck” and Toxic says “You know what? Fuck it, let’s get the party started” and takes her phone out of her pants on the floor and calls someone to come over. 

The door opens again. It’s Lincoln Joel. He’s wearing the white t-shirt. Chloe is nervous but horny. 

Toxic says “You’re welcome, he’s fucking creepy as hell and I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole but I understand that’s how you feel about Father Joel, it is what it is” then goes over to Gracie, who is now riding Father Joel’s face, and gets on his dick so that they are now having a threesome. Everyone is sucking and riding and moaning and sweating and they are definitely going to get a noise complaint. Maintenance man Joel says “What the hell have I gotten myself into here, I thought I was just messing around with one annoying tenant who keeps calling me and now I am watching a threesome with an ordained priest”. 

Chloe isn’t sure what to do, this doesn’t seem like Lincoln Joel’s scene. He says, “Chloe, there’s a priest here, I think it’s best if we get married before we do anything”. Chloe says ok. Father Joel recites the entire marriage speech that priests give and he says “You may now kiss the bride”. Lincoln kisses Chloe and they go to the bedroom. Then they fuck as well and she’s enjoying the thrill but is also a little bit concerned that she is now legally Catholically married to this old man. Whatever.

Maintenance man Joel blows his load inside you and says he has to go home. You both leave and listen to the wet slapping sounds of the Joels and writers who are still fucking and sucking and riding. He drives you home in his truck and says you never saw him in that sin filled establishment, do you understand?

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

📔Miko + (Spending time with your father/final good bye)

@chunibyo-x-sorcerer

Today: Tuesday 2/5/2XXX Time: 8:34 am (Morning) Weather: Sunny and cool Mood: Very stressed and worried

Dear Journal,

Today the Higher ups were speaking to Gojo and Nanami sensei about my father and the spirit that lingers in my home. It seems they were arguing in that room wondering what they were going to do with him. I didn't like the fact they were angry with him but they sounded mad with me too.

Keeping a spirit like Mezu was dangerous but they said I would have been punished for it. However, the two asked to keep this to themselves and for me. After a while, they told me that I was going to have to make a choice.

I was going home to check on my family and Mezu seeing he was alright as well. However, the others came to talk to me. That's when I found out their answer. I had to make a choice and soon or the Higher ups would have Mezu executed.

It was painful to think about but I didn't want to. Mezu nor my dad deserved this. The others Kisho and them came to check on me and it seems they came up with some idea.

Letting Mezu take my father's soul to be finally at peace

Making it where Mezu will be my shinigami

Or.......Making a binding vow between us.

Three choices but I only had two weeks to make it. This isn't fair even for the Higher ups to think this. Though, the idea was from Kisho himself. He didn't want anything else to go wrong. So, he suggested, we hand out or stay over for the following two weeks till I make my choice.

It sounded reasonable so I accepted it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today: Friday 2/8/2XXX Time: 4:19 pm Weather: Cloudy Mood: Slightly tired but I'm ok Dear Journal,

The first week was going smoothly so far, the others stayed over for a few nights and it was helping a lot. We played some board games like Monopoly. It was fun at first then got a bit funny seeing some was arguing about properties and such.

It as good to get a little laugh. Then we played some video games and it was my first time playing it. Seems like they were teaching me some new ones like SSBU. At first it was a bit new to me or confusing at first, being nervous to play such a game.

However, Kisho and the others were teaching me how to play it. At first, I watched a few games then played some. The game was pretty fun that even Kisho was proud of me being able to learn. So far, it was really fun. We kept on playing for a while more before Kisho ordered some pizza for us to eat.

They were staying the night still while laughing and watching some movies after. Things like this was really fun. Even seeing Mezu resting on the side happily watching everyone having fun. Even my father reading the paper smiling. Though the thought of the two weeks came back to mind making me worry again.

Maybe I'll sleep it off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today: Monday 2/11/2XXX Time: 6:30am (Early Morning) Weather: Clear Mood: A little sleepy but sad Dear Journal,

Were on the last week so this means, my ideal choice has to be made by Saturday before Midnight to Sunday morning. Right now, I woke up in my room seeing that the others were still sleeping. Somehow, knowing the week is coming to a end it scares me and upsets me.

I know when Sunday comes, it would be my time to make a choice or have a choice. I just don't know. I don't want to lose my dad...but I don't want Mezu to be hurt again. Nanami sensei said sorry for attacking him but I still worry about other things. Will my father be okay? Or will this just be something of a back fire?

My mind is so lost right now but I didn't know my father and Mezu was there with me. They came to check on me but I looked silent not sure how to say anything. My father knew I would have to make a choice but I was not sure about it.

I didn't want to lose my father even Mezu either. However, I also didn't want them to get attacked again. Nanami sensei didn't mean to because he didn't know. But..the fear of that happening again still lingers in me. Knowing this, Mezu lays at the end of my bed while my father stays and held me saying things might be hard for a while but...he knew I would make my choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today: Wednesday 2/13/2XXX Time: 1:18Pm Afternoon Weather: Partly sunny Mood: Unsure, not as hungry Dear Journal,

We are drawing closer to the last day and my mind has been distracted from it. The others were noticing my behavior that I was not even eating lunch. Kisho was worried, I could tell even if he asked me, I could only say I was fine. I guess my mind is still worried about the up coming days.

I even saw my father and Mezu just relaxing in the back wall of the house. Right now, I just asked to be excused. I needed time to myself for a bit seeing I left the room. But they all knew I was worried. They didn't bother me for a while given I was sitting outside. That is till Taz came to check on me. She and I talked for a while but she knew why. I was worried about my choice.

She told me, it was not easy to do what sorcerers do. Given the hard moment of making a harsh difficult choice. I knew it was going to be hard for me to make this choice but I had to make a choice that fits for me and helps my father and Mezu. She told me whatever I choose, everyone was by my side with it.

Looking at her, she only gives me a big hug to reassure things will be alright. I hug her back with a thank you before she sits outside with me to enjoy the afternoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today: Friday 2/15/2XXX Time: 9:18Pm Night Weather: Now Cloudy Mood: Okay Dear Journal,

It's now Friday, just two more days to go. It's really nerve wrecking for me to my choice. The others were watching a movie together and I saw Mezu asleep near the window. I was seeing that everyone was seeing a fun movie but I grip the pillow nervous. This was going so fast, my choice had to be made by tomorrow morning or Sunday.

I knew the others were going to be here but the teachers did catch up with us in hoping I did. I guess the Higher up are bothering them and wondering what my choice is. Why did it have to come to this? Just why my family and me?

Kisho must have saw I was stressed out again that I felt him hold my hand. I look to him seeing a worried expression but I only looks down that I gently squeeze his hand. Honestly, I'm scared, sad, and unsure. However, I think after the two weeks...I think I made my choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today: Sunday 2/17/2XXX Time: 8:18 am Morning/Sunrise Weather: Clear again Mood: Emotional Dear Journal

It's time

It's been two weeks so now I had to give them my answer. I was seeing the others standing behind me while seeing Mezu standing there along with my dad. Feeling the light breeze blowing against me and looking silent.

I knew Mezu looks at me but he had to ask or my father did.

What was my choice?

I stood there in silence looking down but closing my hand into a fist, I looked up to say my answer. I wanted him to pass peacefully to be put to rest. I didn't want my father or Mezu to be harmed again so...I think it was best for them to leave. Or to say Mezu take my father's soul to his final resting place. The others said nothing worried about my choice but Kisho said nothing because he knew it was hard for me. I didn't look at my father or Mezu but he understood.

I also knew when he did this, I would never see him again. Or Mezu either. Knowing of my choice, I heard my father ask if this is my final answer. So I told him yes. I wanted him to be put to rest. No more being worried or being harmed again.

I didn't want to start crying because of this but I just look down shaking now. That is till I felt someone held me. My eyes open only to see it was my father or his soul. He was holding me close, petting my head but he didn't say too much before he pulls back to look at me. A gentle smile shows on his face but tears were seen too. He knew it was going to be hard for me.....but he also wanted me to keep a eye on my brother and mom. They knew my choice of being a Sorcerer and they knew of wanting me safe. Even when I made my choice, I was afraid to let him go. I just kept hugging him, crying as he just held me with his own eyes closed and a gentle smile.

We held one another for a while before feeling a light breeze to look. My father was seeing Mezu by him. It was time for him to help him cross the path to the final resting place. Looking at me, he gives a gentle smile but I knew he was proud of me.

As he backs up, I look to feel more of a gentle wind blowing against me, seeing Mezu now carefully helping him as they were glowing once more. It was time for them to leave. I watch with widen eyes seeing Mezu opening a door way to somewhere. He turns to start leading my father to it but I keep looking seeing him following Mezu. He was heading to the light. A resting place for him. Even if I wanted to call out to him, I didn't.

Tears were running down my eyes but watching my father leaving was painful. Biting down on my bottom lip, I saw him get to the door before I saw he looked back. I look to him but he smiled as any other father would saying in his words.

'I'm so proud of you, Miko....be safe and be happy for me. And always know..your father loves you....'

His words were gentle but I only watch as he now steps through the light but it was lifting him and Mezu up. I look up seeing him going as I take a few steps reaching out almost to him yet my hand stops. Seeing them leave only made my heart burn. The light kept shining as it takes them up higher and higher before after some time....

They were gone.

I was looking up feeling the wind blowing but I didn't face my friends. I knew I was crying seeing Mezu and my dad finally go to the other side. I lower my hand to hold it to my heart but even if the tears kept running down my cheeks I didn't say a word. That was till I felt others around me to see Yuji, Taz, Nobara, Megumi, Yuria, Hana, and Kisho look at me. They knew it was painful for me to say good bye but they were there for me.

They all just held me as I look down but Taz told me it was going to be okay. It'll hurt for a while but they were here for me. They were always here for me. I just closed my eyes and held onto who ever I could as I did cry. I let it all out knowing my father and Mezu were gone but they were in a better place.

It was not a easy choice for me to make but I rather them be at peace than be attacked again. But..I'm happy they are in a better place.

Dad.....thank you for being here with me and Mezu too. I hope you two are enjoying your afterlife now. I'll keep being strong and become a great sorcerer.

And thank you dad. Thank you...for everything.

I love you.

[hippiemisfit]

Hush (J.K.) 3

*banner made by me

Chapter Three- Police

pairing: jungkook x oc reader

word count: 1,591

warnings: mentions of death, intimidation, fear, manipulaiton, scary jk

-----------------------------------------------

He pulled me all the way back to my house and threw me on the ground next to the box. "Now we are going to try this again and this time you are going to do as I say. Or next time I won't be as nice."

I nodded my head and tried to grab the box. "Why did you kill him?" I asked. 

I was met with no response but I know he heard me.

Ugh whatever.

After struggling for what seemed like 30 minutes, I was finally able to lift the box with all my might. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold it for long so I sped walk over to Carter's house and sat the box on his doorsteps.

I already feeling for the poor soul who was going to open it, either his mom or dad or worse Carter. I bet their reaction would be no different than mine. 

I walked back to my house and of course the hoodie figure, I got to give him a name, was gone. I heard a car come around the corner and saw that it was Carter's. I ran inside and closed the door peeking outside the window.

I watched Carter get out the car, reach into the back to get his shoes, and head to the front door. He looked down at the box and tilted his head to the side.

He bent down to open it and I dreaded watching him open it. I wanted to look away but I couldn't find it in me to. He slowly lifted the tops of the box and when it dawned on him what was inside, he turned and puked all over their grass. Once he was done emptying the contents of his stomach, he dropped his shoes and ran inside.

I quickly shut the blinds and fell down on the floor, tears streaming down my face. I can't believe that I helped cause him so much pain. I should've just called the police but I was given no choice and now that I have helped moved the box, does that make me an accomplice?

My mind raced as my inner monologue screamed at me to get up off of the floor but I couldn't bring myself to.  

.............................................

I guess I fell asleep on the floor because when I woke up it was getting dark outside. I got up off the floor and looked outside to see a couple of police cars sitting outside Carter's house. I see they called them. I saw two police officers walk out of their house and head towards mine.

Shit what do they want?

They knocked on the door,"Hello. Ms. Mahj is it. Can you open the door and let us in? We just have a few questions."

Ugh, just breathe in and out. They don't know that you moved the box. Just open the door.

I opened the door and let them in, leading them to the dining table.

"Where are your parents Mahj?" one of them asked as they sat down.

"They are out of town right now, they'll be back on Monday. Um do you guys want anything to drink?" I asked shifting back and forth on my feet, my nerves not letting me take a seat just yet.

"No thanks," the other one said. I nodded and sat down across from them.

"My name is officer Briggs and this is my partner officer Flanningan, we just have a few questions and then we'll be on our way," I nodded in understanding.

"Ok," he said pulling out a notepad," first question where were you between the hours of 10 pm and 12 am last night?"

"I was here last night," I said.

"Do you have anyone who can confirm that?" I shook my head. I saw him jot something down.

"Ok. Do you know anyone who would have something against your neighbor?"

"Which neighbor?" Yeah, you ain't about to trick me.

"Conner, he was found dead this afternoon. He body was cut up and put into a box."

"Wow um no I can't think of anyone who had something against him. You know other than the silent killer, you know he just goes around killing people for no reason. I mean he probably doesn't even know him and just decided to kill him anyway. I mean I don't know," I rambled out, wringing my hands together.

The cops looked at each other and then back at me," Um, ooook. Miss, we're going to have to ask you to come down to the station for further questioning. It seems you know more than you let on," they got up from their seats," Let's go."

I got up and followed them to the door, but stopped. "Hold on, can I put some food in my dog's bowl. I don't know how long we're going to be."

They nodded their heads and I went to the pantry and opened it. I looked down to get his kibble when I saw a pair of black shoes right beside it.

I slowly rose my head up and came face to darkness with the man who was currently ruining my life. I went to scream when his gloved hand covered my mouth and pulled me in the closet, shutting the door.

"I see that you don't do well under pressure. That's something I see we are going to have to work on. Now you've got two options. The first one is that I go out there and deal with those two officers who probably suspect you of murder.

Option number two is that you go out there and leave with them. But let's just say I'd advise you to take option number one.

I don't really think you'll like what you see as a consequence of your actions, even though for me it'll be very enjoyable. Trust me. Now I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth. The only thing you need to say is the option you are choosing ok."

I nodded my head in understanding. He moved his hand from my mouth and I reached down to grab Poco's food.

I turned and opened the door and whispered back," I guess I'll take my chances with option number two."

I walked out and closed the door. I put food in Poco's bowl and went with the police officers outside.

They escorted me to their car and I got in the back. I looked back at my house and I could see hoodie face staring at me through the window. Damn and I just left Poco in there with him.

..................................................

When we got to the precinct they took me into one of the interrogation rooms and left me by myself. You know the one with the one way mirror. The two officers came in and sat down, and one of them placed a tape recorder down on the table.

"Now Mahj, we're just going to ask you a few more questions and if you answer them truthfully we are going to let you go. If we feel like you are lying then we're going to ask you more questions until you tell us the truth. OK?"

I nodded my head.

"Ok well let's get started. When we were back at your house you said something about the Silent Killer. Now were you trying to say that he was the one who killed Conner?"

I nodded my head," Yes that's what I was trying to say."

He nodded his head and turned to look at Flannigan," Ok and how do you know this?"

"He told me."

His eyes bugged out," He told you? That means that you've been in contact with a serial killer. How long has he been contacting you?"

"Since last night and then again this morning, oh and he was also there before we left. He was hiding in the closet."

"He was in the house?!" Officer Flannigan asked.

"Yep."

"And you didn't say anything to us because?"

"He told me not to and I knew that I would be safe if I came with you two. I don't know why but he's obsessed with me for some reason. I don'-" the lights started to flicker.

Next thing I know both of the officers are convulsing on the ground. I raced over to their sides and started to bang on the glass. "Hey! We need help in here! I don't know what is wrong with them!" I yelled.

Nothing happened. "Hey! Is anyone even in there?!" I heard the chairs scrape behind me so I turned around to see both of the officers sitting back in their chairs.

Officer Briggs turned his head to face me,"If you are done banging on the glass, can you retake your seat." I looked at him like he was crazy. "Wait weren't you just- I know you were- am I going crazy?" I asked rubbing my hand across my forehead and headed back to my seat.

There was something off about the two of them. Like they weren't themselves.

"Ok Mahj, next question. Do you enjoy pissing people off or is it something you just do because you can't help it?"

My eyes widened,"What?"

He leaned closer to me and said,"Do you enjoy pissing people off or is it something you just do because you can't help it?" but this time he said it like I was a little kid and he was trying to explain something to me.

"Why are you asking me this?" I asked leaning back in my chair.

"I gave you two options and I told you that you wouldn't like the consequences if you chose the wrong one," he put his head in his hands,"So here we are," I saw a glint of green in his eyes,"let's have some fun."

[tunabesimpin]

Hi Tuna! Congrats on getting 800 followers and kudos to you for taking on this big milestone project!

That said, mind if I submit my Yuusona for this?

She hasn't gone to the beach in years, but the last time she went, she and her dad collected sea shells, looked for sea critters on the rocks and in the water, and let the waves hit their legs as they stood still.

At the party, Yuu plans to collect seashells and look for sea critters, but may pause to try to play volley ball and is willing to join a water fight. The thing they won't do if they had a choice is go swimming--they just don't like swimming in the ocean.

Their favorite color is honey yellow. They're going to be bringing a canvas bag holding sunscreen, sandals, and a bottle of water and they'll be carrying a body towel.

Yuu will be bringing along their sentient teddy bear and Grim. The teddy is especially excited to look for sea shells and maybe cool rocks (and Yuu is going to have to make sure it doesn't pick up a crab or get swept away by the waves. . . oh nelly). Yuu managed to convince Grim to come along by saying it wouldn't be a great party without him and it wouldn't feel complete if it was just her and the teddy. . . and also he'd be missing out on the food (lol).

Bo y howdy. I don't want to make this longer than it already is (plus Tumblr doesn't allow links to be shared while anonymous)--would it be cool if I sent the references through PM?

(btw this is yuus-sentient-teddy, but I'm following you under a different blog--I can let you know through PM which one it is!)

---

When Yuu wanted to go shell collecting, they didn't expect Grim to take it to extremes like he did. To be fair though, when has Grim ever not been rambunctious? Yuu, Teddy and Grim were all collecting shells together and at some point Grim made it into a contest to see who could have the bigger pile of treasure.

Yuu could only sigh seeing the mighty Grim run amuck on the beach search for the best of the best shells. Turning back to the selection of shells Teddy had been collecting, Yuu carefully examined each one. The vibrant colors were stunning. Teddy had outdone himself in his search. Yuu smiled and pulled one her own shells out, a large clam shell adorned with a red and white marble appearance. She held it out to teddy and pointed to one of his shells for a trade. Teddy gave a pleasant look and handed Yuu the shell they picked out.

It was a tender display, but that only lasted a moment as Grim came bouncing back. "NYAHAHA FEAST YOUR EYES!" Grim plopped a conch shell atop his pile of treasure, popping shells below out from the pile. It was quite the sight to find a conch in such good condition. Yuu and Teddy awed over the mighty Grims find, that was until a certain uncanny eel began to make way over the horizon.

Jade was quickly catching up to Grim, his signature closed mouth smile plastered on his face "Oh Grim surely you were going to repay me for my hard work getting that conch shell weren't you?" Yuu eyed the now cowering cat monster behind her, 'Grim what have you gotten us into this time...'

---

Thank you thank you!!!! I was so excited to have a more Grim& Yuu centric story this time! Your Yuu and the teddy is so cute. I hope you can enjoy this!

[nanavn]

[ID: a series of screenshots of a twitter thread by Sheila O'Malley @sheilakathleen.

Text: The year after my dad died was so bad I don't remember 90% of it. I moved to a new apt and was unable to unpack. For MONTHS. I was ashamed I couldn't unpack. How can you be UNABLE to unpack? Just open the g.d. boxes. That was the year I cried for 19 days. Straight. /1

My good friend David - whom I've known since high school - knew I was struggling and he felt helpless. He said "you are loved" "we need you". I was like, "Doesn't matter, but thanks." So he took a risk. It very well could have ended badly. I could have lashed out. /2

I could have been really REALLY offended. But he took the risk. He sent out an email to a group of local friends (w/out my knowledge) and said, "Sheila is struggling. She needs our help. Let's all go over there and unpack her apartment for her. Bring food. Let's make it fun." /3

David sent me an email saying "will you be home Thursday night? Can I stop by?" I said "Sure." Sitting surrounded by 200 unpacked boxes. /4

At 6 pm on Thursday night the doorbell rang and 10 of my friends barged in, bearing platters of food, cleaning products, and complete unconcern for my 'wait … you CAN'T COME IN HERE I HAVEN'T UNPACKED YET" protestations. They ignored me and got to work. /5

They unpacked my boxes. They put away my 1,500 books. They hung pictures for me. They organized my closet and put away all my clothes. Meanwhile, someone set up a taco-making station in the kitchen. People brought beer. By the end of the night, my apartment was all set up. /6

I literally was unable to do THE SIMPLEST THINGS. And nobody judged me. They were like superheroes sweeping in. One friend arrived late, stood in the hallway, looked at me and said, "PUT ME TO WORK." /7

One of my friends basically took over hanging all of my posters and pictures. "I'm really good at measuring stuff. Let me put all these up in your hallway." I hovered, not wanting to give up control: "wait … put that one there maybe?" She said, "Go away." I did. /8

And she was so much better at hanging stuff than I was! Here are my friends putting away my books. /9

Here's a break for dinner. Please note that my friend Sheila's dinner plate is resting on my DVD player. /10

I was overwhelmed at the sight of all of my crazy friends turning themselves into Santa's workshop. On my behalf. W/out asking me. They just showed up and barged in. I was embarrassed for like 10 minutes but they were all so practical and bossy I had no choice but to let that go.

At the end of the night, I looked at my friend's husband - a quiet tactiturn guy who drives a tugboat on the Hudson - practical, man of few words - and I just looked at him, speechless, not knowing how to say Thank You, especially to this tough resilient self-sufficient man.

He looked at me, saw the look on my face, understood the look, understood everything that was behind it - and said, “Listen, baby, what we did today was a barn-raising.”

That's the end. The "ask for help" advice is well-meaning but not really thought through. There's shame, there's enforced helplessness, there's the feeling you're not worth it, etc. My friends didn't wait for me to ask. They showed up. They took over. They didn't ask.

When they all swept out of there 4 hours later, my place was a home. Not only was everything put away - but now it had a memory attached to it, a group memory, friends, laughing, dirty jokes, hard work. These are the kinds of friends I have. Be that kind of friend to others.

To reiterate: this plan could have backfired. I very well could have been offended, insulted, hurt. David took that risk. Being a friend takes commitment. A willingness to take that risk.

End ID]

Text from https://x.com/sheilakathleen/status/1005116845240848385, unrolled with threadnavigator.com

This is literally the most heart warming story I have read on Twitter so far. I think this is exactly what friends should do, and I feel everyone deserves people like this.

[clickfoxdigital]

Things nobody tells you about running a digital agency in a tier-2 city (an emotional thread) 

Buckle up, this is going to be a ride through a month of building ClickFox Digital in Gorakhpur. Nobody warned us about any of this.

1. You’ll become a teacher before you become an agency owner

When I started doing digital marketing in Gorakhpur, I thought clients would understand what SEO means. Boy, was I wrong.

My first meeting with a sweet shop owner went like this: “So you’ll put my shop on Google?” “Yes, through SEO and—” “What’s SEO?” “Search Engine Optimization—” “What’s that?”

I spent two hours explaining why people need to find his shop online. He paid me ₹5,000 and asked if his shop would be “number one on Google by tomorrow.”

Now I start every meeting with “Digital Marketing 101.” Half my job became education. The other half became therapy for business owners who thought the internet was magic.

2. Your family will think you’re unemployed for the first year

“Beta, when are you getting a real job?”

My mom asked this while I was working 14-hour days building websites. My relatives kept sending me government job links on WhatsApp.

Being the best SEO company in Gorakhpur means nothing to aunties who don’t understand why someone pays you to “play on the computer.”

Dad finally understood when our first client’s restaurant went from empty tables to fully booked. Seeing real money helped. A lot.

3. Every client becomes your case study (because you have no choice)

In Mumbai, agencies can be picky. In Gorakhpur, you take what you get and make it work.

That weird uncle selling pickle online? He became our e-commerce success story.

The coaching center that refused to pay more than ₹8,000? We made them famous for social media marketing in Gorakhpur.

The restaurant owner who wanted “something viral”? We learned TikTok marketing because of him.

You don’t get dream clients. You make dream results with whatever walks through your door.

4. Word-of-mouth is everything (and I mean EVERYTHING)

Forget fancy portfolios. In tier-2 cities, your reputation travels faster than internet speed.

One happy client tells five friends. One unhappy client tells the entire city.

Ravi uncle’s positive review got us three new clients in one week. But when we messed up Sharma ji’s Facebook page, we lost potential clients we never even met.

Local WhatsApp groups become your marketing channel. Your work gets discussed at tea stalls. Everyone knows everyone.

5. You’ll feel lonely in a crowd

Running a digital marketing agency in Gorakhpur means you’re surrounded by people but professionally isolated.

There’s no one to share your excitement when a client’s website finally ranks first. No one understands why you’re stressed about algorithm updates.

Your friends work in banks and government offices. They get weekends off. You’re replying to client messages at 11 PM on Sunday.

You join online communities of agency owners from big cities. They talk about problems you wish you had.

6. Traditional businesses move slower than dial-up internet

“Can we think about this social media thing for six months?”

This was a real question from a client who needed help immediately.

Change happens slowly here. Business owners need time to trust new ideas. What takes one meeting in Delhi takes six meetings in Gorakhpur.

You learn patience. Lots of patience.

7. When it works, it really works

Here’s the beautiful part nobody tells you: when you succeed in a tier-2 city, you become a local hero.

That pickle uncle now makes ₹50,000 monthly from online sales. The coaching center has students from three districts. The restaurant owner expanded to two locations.

You didn’t just grow businesses. You changed lives.

8. You’ll question everything, then fall in love with everything

Some days I wonder if I should have stayed in Bangalore. Worked for a big agency. Had a steady salary.

Then Priya aunty calls to say her saree business is doing amazing. Or Raj shares how his gym membership doubled after our campaigns.

Building something meaningful in your hometown hits different.

The real truth

Running a digital marketing agency in a tier-2 city is like swimming upstream while learning to swim.

It’s explaining Facebook ads to people who just learned WhatsApp. It’s being patient with clients who think websites work like magic. It’s proving yourself every single day.

But it’s also watching your city grow. Seeing traditional businesses embrace change. Building something bigger than yourself.

Three years later, I wouldn’t change a thing.

If you’re thinking about starting something in your small city, do it. The world needs more local heroes.

ClickFox Digital started just as an idea in a small city. Now we’re proud to be helping Gorakhpur businesses succeed online. Sometimes the best stories begin where nobody expects them to.

[hangonimevolving]

The Horror Movie - Part 3

I am regretting the title I've made for this series of stories. It should be called The Horror Movie. Should I go back and change it?! I might!

It's 8:30 in the morning, and my mom is on the phone, breathless and speaking a mile a minute. During the brief period of about 5:30-8:30 in the morning while I've been at my own home to see my kids off to school, the cops had arrived at her home shortly after sunrise, and were stationed mostly outside the house in their squad cars. One deputy, Deputy J (an angel who I will remember forever for his kindness), the head of Missing Persons, was inside with her, sitting at the breakfast table with his laptop and a cup of coffee that my mom had made him - he is the tall, stacked officer that was with her/us the entire day before, too. He was there when she got the call - and on the other side was a stranger's voice saying "there's this guy here, he says he's your husband, can I put him on?!" She then hears my father's voice, a little weak and tired, but ALIVE - and mostly okay.

And also, COMPLETELY CLUELESS about the whirlwind of chaos we are all in, searching for him. He then calmly tells her a narrative of where he has been and what he's planning to do. He tells her (and I'm gonna paraphrase), "Yeah, I am in Orlando. I was mad yesterday so I decided to leave and move to Orlando, so I took the Greyhound bus from downtown Fort Lauderdale and got here around 10 pm, but now I'm tired and I want to come home. So I've bought a 10 am bus ticket to return, I'll be arriving to Fort Lauderdale around 2 pm, but I don't have much cash on me. I'm going to get a taxi to bring me back home, but can you make sure we have some cash at home so I can pay the cab driver once I arrive?" His tone is calm and nonchalant, like all of this is just the most normal situation one could ever be in. BUT IT AIN'T NORMAL. Alright, he's alive, he is healthy, he seems reasonably lucid and is making sense. But for real, WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!

By this time, I have literally dashed out the door of my own house and sped like an insane person the normally-6 minute drive back to my mom's house. I pull up crazily into her driveway, completely ignoring the multiple squad cars and cops milling about, and I run in.

I find her on the phone once again with my dad, and I can tell they're kind of arguing - like she has proposed something to her, but he isn't listening and is defying her wishes. Deputy J quickly fills me in with as much as he can tell - "your father has called, he's at a bus station in Orlando, he's using some guy's phone to call home and he is all agitated, he doesn't want to listen to your mom, he's insisting on taking the bus back home." I forget myself and I say "FUCK THAT," which Deputy J is kind enough to ignore, and he urges me "maybe you can talk to him? Do you think he'd listen to you?" which makes me laugh sarcastically. But I tell him that I'm certainly going to try. I tell him that what I would like to have happen is for local police authorities to escort my dad to the nearest emergency room, and that we would drive up immediately and get there as fast as we could to get him completely checked out and any treatment he might need, then we would personally bring him home.

At some point, by some miracle, the phone comes to me, and I speak to my dad. It feels like I've been there hours and this whole thing happened in slow motion, but in reality I feel like it was all within like 90 seconds of me arriving. Right off the bat, I can tell by the cadence and tone of my dad's voice that he is in a VERY bad mood and he is going to be extremely defiant and argumentative. I ask him "where are you?" and his first answer to me is "I am wherever I am." But I press him, and I have to say it VERY clearly to him in slow words: "Dad. I am at your house. You don't know it, but we have been looking for you for almost 24 hours, and we had no choice but to file a report with the police. There are state troopers in your house right now, they have been here with us for 24 hours. We need you to cooperate with us. There is a police search for you and if you don't cooperate, it is going to look like you are resisting the authorities." My dad has always had a healthy fear and respect of police, and a VERY healthy fear/respect of state troopers, so I tell this white lie. To my incredible disappointment, my dad says that he isn't going to comply with the police if they try to take him into custody. And what's worse, I have Deputy J speak with the local police precinct at the bus station where my father is, and that precinct has a very different philosophy and operating protocol in these situations. They do a field mental status exam on my father and they deem him in possession of his faculties, and they say they have no authority to take him into custody for his own welfare. My mom and I both feel our hearts sink to the floor. The man is a brittle diabetic with a history of quadruple bypass heart surgery, a pacemaker, a continuous glucose monitory that has been offline for 24 hours, and he had a hospitalization just one mont prior due to dehydration. How was he deemed to be safe to go on by himself?!!!

(Wheeee, some more fucked up pictures for you guys. We had been desperately trying to call the manufacturer of his pacemaker since the previous day to see if by some chance, we could track my dad using the serial number of his implanted device. It hadn't worked. But the picture makes the horror movie reel).

Alright. I was seeing red and black at this point. I looked at my watch: about 8:40 am. I knew the clock was ticking. This guy had a ticket for a 10 am bus, and I knew if he boarded that bus, the likelihood of us being able to track him down, find him, and for him to be in good health or even alive, would all be way, way worse. What if he boarded a bus to some other city? What if he lost consciousness before that point? We needed to act fast.

Dr. Spouse to the Rescue. I got Dr. Spouse on the horn immediately to tell him the situation and figure out a plan. Dr. Spouse happens to do a LOT of work with the Fire and Rescue services (fire, EMT's, other agencies) in the tri-county area near us. He has also been part of a team that has authored state legislation on the first responder protocols and field treatments of stroke and other neurological emergencies. I was hoping that maybe we could tap into some of his contacts and see if we could find a way to intercept my dad and get an agency to deem him unstable enough for him to be taken to a hospital. Long story short - this is exactly what happened. Dr. Spouse had a local EMS chief with whom he is on very close professional terms, who was happy to help us out and do us the favor of calling his counterpart field chief in the Orlando area, who was willing to send out an EMS unit to the bus station and find my dad. We counseled the Orlando field chief that instead of trying to take my dad into custody, to "play the game" of getting on his good side, and relating to him as a "fellow medical professional" rather than as a patient who was clearly aboard the Crazy Train. Praise Allah, it all worked. Within a half hour or so, my dad had willingly boarded an ambulance and agreed to be taken to a local emergency room.

We were already in motion, even as all this was happening. I ran into the house and barked to my mom - you have about 15 minutes to pack a bag for yourself, bring stuff for yourself for overnight and for dad too. I'm going home to do the same, and I'll be back to pick you up. We are leaving for Orlando. Deputy J was 100% in our corner - he was jubilant that my dad had been found alive, and fully confessed to me at that point, I didn't think we'd be getting him back for you guys at this point, I'm so relieved for you guys. /DEAD. Anyway. I thanked him and his team profusely and told him I'd call him within 30 minutes as we learned more - at this point, Dr. Spouse's Orlando contact was being extremely helpful and updating us every few minutes - so I felt confident that we'd be able to keep tabs on the situation that way.

I ran home and Dr. Spouse and I threw things into a bag - he insisted on coming with us to Orlando seeing as my dad was in need of medical intervention of one type or another, and his partners were all aware of the situation and had generously offered to cover for him at work. Grateful for that. I grabbed a laundry basket and threw socks, underwear, pajamas, clothes, Kumon homework, iPads, headsets and whatever else I could think of that the kids would need, and tossed the entire thing into my car trunk - then I grabbed my backpack and stuffed in my own clean undies, PJ's, clothes, my iPad, phone chargers, headset, snacks, water, and everything else I would need for the night. Dr. Spouse did the same. Then we hit the road.

We were back at my mom's house within 20 minutes and she was waiting for us - Deputy J was with her till we returned, which was thoughtful of him, and he helped load her things into my trunk and bid us all goodbye. We hightailed it over to Aunt Lynchpin's house - like I said earlier, she offered help and I took it. She wasn't home, but Uncle Lynchpin was there, so I handed him the laundry basket of my kids' crap and said "I will never find a way to thank you for this enough," and he responded with "We love you. Go get your dad." I can't even. We don't deserve such awesome friends.

Before you know it, we were on the road. To Orlando.

(There was a pit stop at a rest area with a Wendy's for "lunch" - fries and cokes which, we took to-go and got back on the road. Why is this relevant? It isn't. But, this stupid picture runs through my mind as part of the horror movie highlight reel, so here it is.)

Back on the road after that.

I don't think I went under 80 mph the entire drive.... Dr. Spouse rode shotgun, and was on the phone for the first hour, getting connected by our new angel-friend, the Orlando chief of rescue, with the admitting physician at the local emergency room, the on-call Neuro-psychologist, and other folks. Dr. Spouse asked what their initial assessment was of my dad, asked what labs and other tests had been run, and requested a few others which they were willing to do. I kept my foot on that gas and we just kept moving. My mom sat in the backseat, looking completely spent and dazed by the events of the last day. It had not yet even been 24 hours at this point.

It was around 2 pm when we pulled into the hospital parking lot.

(Intrusive thoughts time. "Why does the Orlando hospital have to look like a demented Disney World? Par for the course in the horror movie reel)

(Also just sharing that I've returned somewhat to some of the text of my massive email that I sent to friends/family to try to help me with events at this point onward.)

We walk into the ER, unsure what we are going to see.  And - miraculously, there's dad, in a private ER bay. And he didn’t have a scratch on him.

He was physically ok - very tired, SUPER dirty 🤢 very dehydrated, and acting cantankerous and uncooperative - but fine. But he was definitely acting weird. He had apparently, at some point in his adventure, ripped his continuous glucose monitor entirely out of his arm, citing to us that it was “bugging him.” My mom had just applied it three days prior, and normally he wears each as CGM a for something like 14 days before replacement. He is an internist himself - this was extremely out of character for him. We could sense something was up by his wild, amped-up energy…. I got that feeling in his presence that at the moment, he was cool, but any little thing would set off his fury at a hair trigger. It was tense.

The minute he sees us walk in, he gets up from his gurney and starts tugging at the wires and lines attached to him, and says "Okay, let's go!" and starts saying goodbye and thank you to the nurses stationed outside his room, who abruptly rise up and object. We shut this down IMMEDIATELY and say "dad, you are going nowhere. You need to get checked out." He is surprised and seemingly offended by this, and begins to object - but then we sic the hammer on him. Dr. Spouse. The one person that he absolutely cannot pull this bullshit with.

Dr. Spouse shuts it DOWN. He calms dad down, but also gives him a humongous talking-to. It was epic.

You are going nowhere.

You have put us all through hell.

We are so glad you are alright.

You are going to get thoroughly checked-out.

You owe that to us.

More or less, it went like that.

Mom and I knew that if it were us delivering the message, it would have been a giant fail - so we sat in the cheap seats and just offered support.

Anyway. Dad then proceeded to royally FLUNK the neuro-psychiatric exam, right in front of us.  Two days earlier, he’d had dinner at our house with the kids, we’d been talking about politics, watching football, etc.  So this was hard to accept - but we watched it and couldn’t deny that something had changed.  They did full work up including CT, MRI, etc and Dr. Spouse was there to read it all…wondered if he’d had a stroke or something (he’s actually had two extremely minor strokes in the past) - but nope.  

The only brain changes were consistent with dementia. And, as we found out in subsequent testing and appointments - Alzheimer's.

I am pretty sure that at this point, all three of us (Dr. Spouse, my mom, me) were thinking the same things as we were watching my dad try to talk the ER staff out of testing him for stuff, trying to make small talk with people as if everything was just another normal day, etc.  We were asking ourselves, did we miss something big in the weeks leading up to this?   Of course we had all noticed little age-related things with him.  The normal stuff - “where’d I put my keys?”  Or, increased difficulty with remembering names of acquaintances (not good friends, but tangential people, etc. his friends’ grandkids’ names or something). Then there was the whole long walk/dehydration incident the month prior. He had said he just was taking a long walk to work off some frustration. But did he in fact get confused or lost?  Some of these memories of his lapses, we chalked up to age of course, but some of it honestly was baseline for his personality, bc he’s always been bad at social stuff like that.

Anyway.  This portion of the Nightmare Story ends with my dad getting admitted overnight for observation, me booking Dr. Spouse a one-way flight back that night so he could collect our poor, traumatized kids and just take care of them, and me and mom checking into a hotel down the street.  

Dad got discharged the next day around 2:30 pm, and then I drove my parents home. A long, mostly silent, and exhausted drive home, with only one pit stop which was just an anxiety-riddled experience, standing watch outside the men's restroom to make sure he didn't run away again.

We arrived home completely spent, and I returned to my house to find my children pacing the driveway, waiting for me. It was around 6:30 pm on Wednesday, October 30th, and I couldn't have been more relieved to be home with my family.

To be continued.

[khadijahelbesbeesy]

Omar took me out on our first date. He said he knows the perfect place. I thought it was a weird choice at first but turns out it’s his own restaurant. He takes me to the best spot. It’s us and the sea. He makes a joke at some point about relationships. He says that elba7r wase3z he laughs at his own joke and points towards the vast sea beneath our feet. I’ve never seen anything like it. He owns my building. He owns the building next to me. For fucks sake he owns amr Diabs building. He owns the compounds behind the city centre Alexandria. And he owns the table we are sitting at. He is nice. He tries to get me whatever I want. Eyes are on me in silence. I don’t know what’s happening. I talk a lot. I try to not mention love. I try to keep an open mind. I talk about everything. We spend five hours. In Alexandria im under my mother’s watch. By 11 pm I am called. I tell her that I’ll leave right now. We spend an extra half an hour talking. I watch Omar open up he starts to talk about everything. Amazing. He isn’t a touchy person at all. Nor a man of any love language other than money so far. He says something about how he finds people who take lots of pictures bizarre. I put down my phone. He calls Ramy Aly gay, he tells me my anthropology minor is just an activity for a girl having fun. I know he doesn’t see what I see. He doesn’t have the eyes I grew with Mina. I used to be like this. I may have been worse. I think I impress him by being very busy and accomplished. He doesn’t do much. He was born with much. For so long I think about if it was Mina. If Mina had saw this view he would have taken a thousand pictures of everything. He would have had his hands on me until everyone was uncomfortable. I would have put my head on his shoulder where I for perfectly and he would have locked me in with his head, exactly like always. I don’t even dare do that with Omar. I don’t know much about him. I go home and tell my mom everything Omar told me. She goes into hysterical laughter, we joke that I should have told him that we are from Bahary. My mom is so excited though she couldn’t sleep. She cannot wait to tell my dad. It’s just a first date. I remind her and myself. If Mina came back. Which he did. I know it would not be any realer than every other cycle we have commited in the past. I’d still take him over whatever this was. I still want to be babied and loved. I still want someone to understand my reference of living in lower income neighborhoods whether in the gulf or here. I still want to feel that my feelings of confusion are heartbreak are validated. When I bump into Mina, he is still listening to Hozier, he still looks at me with such despair. I always said Mina never came alone. Each time with a different Omar, it’s very funny. This time it’s a much harder decision.

[itsnotmandatorybee]

December 31, 2024

Tuesday

8:39 PM

If there are few things I need to say before the year ends, this will be it.

While I'm still thinking for a reason why I accidentally broke my aunt's classic cup, I might end up forgetting about it in the next couple of days—or never—as to this moment that I'm writing and thinking of excuses, I started to analyse that this already happened—the darkness inside this room while there are explosives and horns of laughter as the New Year's Eve approach. Not to mention that I should celebrate.

This time, I'll break the pattern, or I might lose my track—again.

Since I don't have a heart to sum-up everything, I'll just drop what I have written a few days ago when I still had the energy to do it. If you'll going to ask me if I'm alright now, well, yes—I'm storing my energy for later. It's never too late to laugh and take a bite.

Cheers.

-----

December 22, 2024

Sunday

1:28 AM

To make things clear and easier for me, I'm writing this stuff not because I am puzzled about the things that happened a couple of weeks ago. I am writing as an excuse to leave the remaining plans at the back of my head as ideas. I should label them as "Things I Initially Planned, I Almost Did, but It's My Angel that Pulls the Trigger Button Not to Do It." Yes—it's quite a long title to describe everyday's situation that is not applicable to a rollercoaster, wheels, Earth, or jeepney. I read and heard so much about how their lives were comparable to those of turles, rats, aspins, and rabbits—indeed, we're animals more than the animals we called animals. Then there was a little punk who can't annotate his writings 'til the moment that he can't digest what he's saying, but he's doing it—it's me—and though as if I'm talking like I am the main character, well, who am I supposed to talk about when I casually mention my wearabouts instead of getting a random checklist to ask some of the simple yet gruesome questions that a normal person like you can lie but I won't 'cause we're not the same? Yes, brutally honest to poke the left side of my brain. I guess it's a tradition for me to write a few days before the year ends, but let's make a stupid twist a pathetic writer can do:

1. How are you doing?

This is a toxic gas I swear I don't want to smell, but the truth lies behind the mask I'm wearing due to the fact I am not going to take it off, not even forever: I AM NOT OKAY. Imagine that waking up every day is a struggle; I need to wait for at least an hour for me to get off my bed and start my business. I am not excited anymore, especially to those repetitive, cliché punchers that I keep rolling in, not to mention the bloopers or behind-the-scenes that no longer make my left pang hanging. It's been hard to try to laugh outside when it's my insides that I need to pay attention to. It's harder for me not to write the good things and bad things that are happening to me as I want to skip this year in my timeline, yet I don't have a choice but to keep moving or else I won't be able to see what would be my #SpotifyWrapped or I'll say I'm stupid not to drawback with others' plans, and I'm involved to be in their sentiments as a part of a whole. It's the hardest to imagine of someone saying "It'll be so much fun if you attended this ****" or "You missed to see this ****" as if I really care—maybe I care, but not the Bern, the real Bern when no one's watching. Long story short, I AM NOT OKAY is simply a nudge to sum-up what occasionally happened this year. From January when I was clinically diagnosed with my dad's cause of death, skipping a concert since I, no, my body chose to stay in a nearby hospital last April, all the way up to the dramas I had with my family until at this very moment that I am silently facing even though I have no face to make myself involved in my member's problems. Jesus.

2. What's the lesson 2024 brought you?

This is an easier one to answer: STOP. Simply saying to give no energy to someone who can't. STOP in terms of not disappointing myself since if I expect, I need to be responsible to turn it into reality. I somehow managed to write this before, I remember, that making myself stop thinking or stop saying at all to save what all real Bern's gotta save. I'm typically the one who says that I don't want to antagonize the people I cut my strings off, yet the tone of voice is coming from my solar plexus, as if I'm in a bid just to find out that it's not worth the price to win. It's because the failure of not getting involved as a negotiator is sometimes what can save me the most. Yes, I allowed myself to write in Filipino palabok format, and I'll not STOP doing it so because I realized that there's always a story to tell even if I am not talking anymore to the people I'm sharing my thoughts with before.

To STOP is to constantly live a life without dealing with negative forces that pull your trigger. To STOP is to lead the freedom rule across the border and be carefree not to be affected by a camaraderie you've chosen to chop with a symbolic, sympathetic knife. To STOP is to simply say that you accepted to grow while saying "thank you" for allowing it to happen even if it sometimes hurt. To STOP is to get your burdens flushed out to navigate your truck, fastening your seatbelt to continue and move on.

It's the simple mantra of saying STOP had ruled my 2024, and though this is the worst year I've ever encountered so far, I'm still somehow blessed, as I'm proud to say that some of the thorns in my throat are gone. And while there are potential thorns to accidentally swallow after eating the fish caught in the middle of the ocean, millennials termed as years of "existential crisis," I'll keep the hook on my string soaked underwater. I experienced how my boat washed out by a storm and almost got killed by a shark I thought it's a dolphin 'cause I have no glasses on; who am I not to learn how to try and fail again? Before going on a next adventure, I'll keep STOP as a lesson that it's not the pause button that makes life interesting. It's somehow the four-sided square that says, "Hey, it's over. I hope you're happy now.”

3. What are you thinking of getting plans for 2025?

I must say “Death By A Thousand Cuts" by Taylor Swift is a song I stopped to play even though I play it the most because it's too good to be true. When I asked the traffic lights if it'll be alright, they said “I don't know." So do I.

(Kidding aside, of course I have.)

While travelling, I noticed how the light turned red and it stopped the motorcycle I had with a punctual driver as we passed a place of my past I stamped as ”Balete Drive." I just then realised that the traffic lights don't know what to say at all because it's the colors of red, yellow, and green that I need to pay attention to, alongside the other systems on the crust of that road. I genuinely smiled even if I'm scared, yet I am mesmerized not to miss the exciting part of seeing the countdown facing Earth's night sky in DS-Digital font. I just felt like not asking what-ifs for split seconds, for I had this intuition that it's a mess of hanging around with my past by simply fixing it by applying such time I have at the present 'cause it won't make a huge difference. My decision is somehow wrong and somehow right, as it puts me into the realization that I don't need to hurt myself, yet I don't need to be a monster of my own just because I was surrounded and raised by monsters in fancy costumes. While I am trying to enlighten people, yet they think I'm baffling, I have no choice but to slip a note and just call the day a day—it'll be alright. I'm not Superman or a hero in a comic strip with a belt placed outside of what's supposed to be an undergarment, but it's a part of a costume, so our imagination will try to make it work anyway.

4. Any other thoughts before jet lag?

Simply put ”Good Luck, Babe” by Chappell Roan on repeat:

”You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.“

Happy Holidays!

[angelbluediary]

It's Tuesday and I'm already over the new routines at home.

M now wakes me up before the crack of dawn to get ready in our room. It would be annoying but tolerable if I didn't have anything to do or anywhere to go, but...

He mentioned at dinner that he felt bad and my dad jumped in saying it was fine because I was going to do the same thing to him when I got in from work late at night. At the time I just laughed and said, "oh yeah!" and we joked about payback. But of course now, like every other time, I can't help but brood over how there is no comparison.

Technically, M could just... pick his outfit out at night and get dressed in the bathroom, since that's all he does in the bedroom anyway? (can't suggest such a thing when it's HIS room) -- Meanwhile I have no choice but to go through the front door and down the hall.

And unlike M, I won't be switching on the lamp two feet away from his face and rummaging around in drawers. I'll just be tiptoeing by as quietly as I can.

And also unlike M, my late night entrance might make Willow move around and whine in her crate, but she's still in the den, across the dining room, from where M sleeps in the living room. Whereas his early morning entrance into our bedroom makes Ginger talk and sing and yell nonstop and jump all over me excited to start the day.

And unlike M who's on a reliable schedule, my sleep schedule is going to be a manic haze all over the place and I'll be trying to get rest when I can.

So no. It's not the same thing. Nevermind that M seems to fall asleep much, much easier than I do these days and STAY asleep. Now my routines here are going to mirror my time at Haven Pointe (PTSD flashbacks) where I was woken up all through the night and just about lost my sanity. At least there I had my own personal space.

I am so eager to get my own place again. I'm not so eager to live paycheck to paycheck but I am going to have to sacrifice one thing or another, my mental peace or my financial gains. UGH.

I've started a budgeting system that I'll adjust once I start getting paychecks and see what the average is, but I should be able to save $5k by January even while paying my parents back a good chunk ($200-300) of my car payment each month--so long as I don't splurge too much.

I would also like to do a yard sale or something (I know my mom wants to) and try to get rid of a bunch of stuff I don't need anymore, like my pretty green comforter set. Do people buy used comforters? Idk. It's really nice-looking but too warm for my liking, not that delicious "cold in summer, warm in winter" fluffy comforter feeling I want so bad.

I could sell books... clothes... shoes! Yeah, this needs to happen, but everyone is so tired all the time from work now and soon I'll probably be just like them.

Anyway, today is my first day at work! I go in at 3 pm. Yippeeee.