#on the other hand my friend who just started cancer treatments is already struggling more with bills than with the cancer

[elliottkay]

In the last month, we’ve filed health insurance claims twice—for our cats. It’s thousands of dollars. The cats are with two different companies.

Both of them paid out. One step, no questions. They paid everything.

Because if pet insurers didn't do their job, people could and would stop buying policies.

[jonsa101]

Episode 3x14: A Reflection of How Max Stepped Into Love After A Season of Suffering

Gif credit @supagirl

Hey guys! I can’t believe the season finale has come and gone! I think my mind is just taking time to comprehend everything that has happened! Sharpwin is officially canon! As I’m typing this out, it feels strange writing a meta on the other side of things. Since season one, I’ve been writing metas about how these two belong together and making predictions about the trajectory of their relationship. Now, to be on the other side of things where I know longer have to do that because these two are finally together is kinda crazy. I feel so elated!

Now y’all, I’m not going to lie to you, I had a totally different meta planned out and that meta is still in my drafts. I will probably release it because it was a general review of the episode but I thought it was more important that I put this meta out first. When I was watching the finale live, I didn’t love it. I just didn’t. I loved that Max and Helen finally got together at the end of the episode but I had a major issue with how it unfolded. The issue my friends was this scene right here: 

Baby!!! When I tell you this scene TRIGGERED me, it did! Now mind you, I wasn’t upset with Max’s storyline of searching and struggling to take off his wedding ring. It is human nature for Max to still have an emotional attachment to his ring. He’s not still grieving but essentially that ring is the only thing he has left of Georgia and represents a life he once had. Him taking it off was always going to be a monumental moment for Sharpwin and for himself. The issue that I had was Max casually telling Helen that he freaked out about losing his ring!!! To me, after the voicemail he left her, after Helen flew standby and was in a six hour flight to see him, it was an incredibly CALLOUS thing for Max to say. I know Max wasn’t thinking in this moment. I know his intentions were clearly not to hurt her but words matter and him being careless with his was a complete disregard of Helen’s feelings. She was deeply hurt and upset when he said this and rightfully so! I mean just look at her expression here:

Helen’s entire being read like

“I can’t believe you”

And girl same, because neither could I!! He knew he fucked up and he obviously made up for it in the end but y’all when I was watching it live, everything that came after that elevator scene was was tainted for me. I had a hard time believing that Helen would let what he said slide so easily and in the moment, I couldn’t appreciate the beauty of them finally coming together! 😩 In my personal opinion, there were so many other ways that scene could have played out without Max having to literally tell Helen to her face that he was worried about his wedding ring! I know they were trying to build up to the “big moment” where he finally takes his ring off and runs back to Helen’s apartment but man, that moment did not sit right with me in my spirit! It still doesn’t and I don’t think my opinion will ever change on this.

With that said, I’ve now done several rewatches of the finale where I specifically watched the scenes after that awful moment by the elevator. As I’ve had time to reflect, my perspective has changed. I no longer view the moments after the elevator scene as tainted but as something deeply profound and beautiful. Hell, even as I reflect on that scene by the elevator, I still don’t like it, but in a way I understand it in how it relates to Max’s overall journey when it comes to Helen. To me, Max Goodwin is a man who fell deeply in love with Helen in the midst of the most complex situations and a season of him suffering. It’s been deep rooted, complicated and messy from the start and over the past three years we’ve seen Max navigate through the complexities of his feelings for Helen and the circumstances he’s found himself in on our screens. I think when you look at season three finale and specifically the journey of Max finally making a choice to be with Helen, you have to put into context Max’s history and how it influenced what that looked like. So y’all that is exactly what I want to do in this meta so let’s dive in.

One thing I think we need to acknowledge is that, even though as an audience we have loved seeing Max and Helen’s journey unfold, the road has been so TOUGH for them. As Helen said in 3x13, it’s been a fight! Especially for Max. The suffering he has endured over the past three years has been unfathomable and much of his relationship with Helen and his feelings for her have been developed under these traumatic and tragic circumstances. 

At the very beginning of the series, when Max and Helen first meet they clash but it doesn’t last for long. It’s his first day at New Amsterdam and as the new Medical Director, he wants her to stay at the hospital and treat patients instead of doing press tours. Helen on the other hand wants to continue doing press and for the most part ignores his demands for her to return to the hospital. When she finally does return, she does so because she learns that Max has cancer. This bonds them at the onset as Helen is the only person in his life that knows about his diagnosis. As an audience, when we first see them interact, we instantly saw the sparks fly between them. Their chemistry and natural witty banter made us immediately take a look at their relationship and what potential they could have in the future. Though we were shocked by his cancer diagnosis, I think the fun and lightheartedness of Sharpwin’s first interactions really masked how traumatic this must have been for Max. On the first day of his dream job, that he sacrificed his marriage for, he learns that he has cancer while having a baby on the way. Those are the awful circumstances that first bring Max and Helen together. 

As Helen becomes Max’s doctor and he swears her to secrecy about his diagnosis, their friendship and bond grows deeper. His passion and drive to help his patients, reignites Sharpe’s love for medicine again and inspires her to put her patients first. They become vulnerable with each other more than anyone else in their lives. He confides in her about his broken marriage and she tells him that she wants a baby. When he almost dies, she becomes his deputy medical director so that he can focus on his care. All of these moments are significant to them because somewhere along the way they develop feelings for each other. They didn’t plan for it and it’s something neither of them are consciously aware of but unknowingly, they both start to fill a place in each other’s lives that was clearly more than a doctor and patient relationship or a friendship. This “place” wasn’t called out until episode 1x16 were the clairvoyant called out their feelings for each other. When episode 1x17 comes around, after a night of revelations and a scramble to get the power back on in the hospital, Helen decides to step back as his doctor. If she wasn’t aware of her feelings before, in this moment, she’s fully aware of them now. This is an effort to safeguard her heart and set boundaries because the lines of who they are to each other were already so blurred. When she “triages” their relationship Max’s reacts badly and honestly they’re both devastated and are on the verge of tears:

As viewers, we loved this moment but when you peel back the layers of what’s actually going on in this scene, it’s gut-wrenching. The subtext is so clear here yet their situation is so complex and layered. We know for a fact that Max wasn’t trying to lose her in ANY CAPACITY. We also know that in the way he TRULY wanted her he couldn’t have her and Helen knew that too. Not when he was married, had a baby on the way, and fighting cancer at the same time. Y’all that’s hard and profoundly painful when you think about it and it makes this scene all the more tragic. 

When Helen steps back as his doctor, at first Max seems to be handling it well but as his cancer starts to get worse, he completely breaks. Like I said earlier, over the course of his cancer treatment, Helen filled a place in Max’s life that was so much more than just his doctor or his friend. So when he’s dying and no longer has the person he feels deeply for play an active role in his treatment, he lashes out. He’s dealing with a range of emotions he can’t handle or properly process. Things only get worse from there and at the end of season one Georgia and Luna’s life are on the line and Bloom and Helen scramble to save them. When it seems like everyone was able to come out of that traumatic event unscathed, they get into a devastating ambulance crash that changes everything. 

Season 2 brings another level of pain and suffering for Max when he loses his wife after the crash and is thrust into single fatherhood. Not only is he grieving but he’s also dealing with guilt of falling in love with Helen while he was married. The complexities of his feelings is something he struggles with throughout this season and it affects his relationship with Helen. At some points he pushes her away and at others he desperately needs her. Once again, Helen and Max’s relationship is caught up in the most complex of circumstances that is riddled with agony and trauma. 

By time we head into season 3, Max doesn’t even have time to breathe or think about his relationship with Helen because they’re both thrust to the frontlines of the pandemic. 

I bring all of this up again to emphasize that there has never been a time where Max and Helen’s relationship hasn’t been wrapped up in trauma or some sort of suffering. It has always been one thing or another with them. It’s been A LOT and Max has tried to navigate being in love with Helen through his suffering and under these crazy ass circumstances. So after rewatching the finale, the questions that run through my mind are:

How do you step into love when all you’ve known for the past three years has been suffering?

How do you love openly and freely when for so long you’ve emotionally suppressed your feelings for someone because it was “wrong?” 

How do you let go, heal, and move on with your life?

To me, answering these questions is what the season finale for Max was all about. When you’ve suffered so much and endured so much it’s not easy to step into a new chapter in your life that’s hopeful and filled with love and possibilities. For Max, I don’t think in his wildest dreams that he ever imagined that he and Helen would be in a place where they could actually be together. Considering everything they’ve gone through, quite frankly it’s a fucking miracle! So when he actually makes it to the other side and not only SURVIVES but has a chance for happiness, I don’t think he knows what he’s doing. Pursuing/having feelings for Helen from a place that isn’t wrapped up in trauma and tragedy, where there are seemingly no obstacles in his way, is totally and completely new territory for Max. I think he’s clueless in how to do that in the right way and as he navigates through that, naturally there are hiccups.

That’s evident with what he said by the elevator and also in this moment here: 

Max doesn’t have a clue but he wants to make sure that he doesn’t fuck it up because he DESPERATELY wants this! I also think there’s something to be said about how we as human beings can self-sabotage ourselves when we finally have an opportunity to get what we want. Fear, guilt, worthiness usually comes into play with that and I think for Max there was definitely a fear with moving on with his life, guilt of surviving it all and having a chance to be with the woman he’s loved for so long, and a question of if he’s worthy of actually having happiness.

Their walk in my mind perfectly embodies him self sabotaging while also trying to navigate his feelings of desperately wanting to be with her. At the beginning of their walk, you see that at one point he clearly wants to hold Helen’s hand but he doesn’t (I would use a gif here y’all but I literally only have room for 10 😩). I’m focusing my attention on Max here because essentially this whole moment between them is a part of Max’s “mini story” in the episode. The ball has always been in his court and truly what we are witnessing is his journey to step into love because Helen is ready and has been waiting on him. 

The most compelling moment in their walk scene for me was this one: 

I find it strange for Max to walk so far ahead when he was the one who asked her if he could walk with her. My first thought while watching it live was “what is he doing” and I think Helen’s expression reads the same way. After analyzing this for a bit, I genuinely think that’s the point of this scene. Like I said earlier, Max doesn’t know what he’s doing. To be with Helen like this is, where its romantic, peaceful and drama free is probably blowing his mind and he doesn't know how to navigate this. He doesn’t know how to receive this second chance at happiness. 

The internal war of Max stepping into love or allowing fear, guilt, and unworthiness to hold him back becomes all the more evident when they get to Helen’s door: 

He knows he wants to come in. Helen know he wants to come in too. This man literally says goodnight twice and when Helen responds with “you said that,” it perfects this scene. She wants him to come in as well but she’s not going to ask him to. In this moment, she sees his internal struggle and she knows that he has to make the choice himself on whether or not he wants to move on with his life with her.

When he walks away, for a moment that was Max choosing to hold onto the pain and trauma of his past. That was him choosing to hold onto the guilt that was keeping him from healing and moving on. With the suffering he’s been through, it makes sense. In many ways he’s been conditioned to fight, to suffer and to endure. It’s what he’s used to. But praise the lord, he thinks of the moments he just shared with Helen. 

The joy he has with just being in her presence. 

The opportunity he has to freely be with her and have a life with her after loving her for so long.

He is not condemned to a life of suffering. It was only for a season. He’s in love with Helen and wants to be with her. Like hell is he going to let this opportunity at a second chance of love and happiness slip away from him. So guys, he slips off that ring, runs back to Helen’s apartment and makes a choice to step into love. Step into this new, uncharted, chapter of his life with Helen Sharpe. 

Anyway guys! I hope y’all enjoyed this! I might be releasing one more meta but we will see how it goes.

As always feel free to reach out to me on Tumblr and on Twitter @oyindaodewale. Love you guys!

[arcticfox007]

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

This is my first time doing Suptober and I probably won’t do every day (and am already a day late) but I thought it would be a good creativity boost and looking through all the other work it seemed like a lot of fun! Thanks to @winchester-reload for organizing this :)

Check it out on AO3!

Castiel hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation. He was supposed to be on break, but had volunteered to reset room 5 for the next patient because he knew his friend Alex had been in dire need of a break. Cas was only a volunteer, spending his junior year of college shadowing various medical professionals to get a better idea of what a career in medicine would really be like. When Alex had suggested shadowing one of the doctors she worked with, he’d readily agreed, knowing that his friend spoke highly of both Dr. Barnes and Dr. Fitzgerald.

He’d already spent the past few hours shadowing Dr. Fitzgerald (or Garth as he insisted on being called) and had seen enough to realize that Family Medicine was understaffed and struggling to do the best they could for their patients given the absurd constraints on their time. Garth was currently seeing a patient who didn’t want a stranger in the room, so the doctor had told Cas to grab some lunch. Cas had intended to do just that when he saw Alex making frantic phone calls at the front desk. When she’d hung up, she’d looked at the end of her rope, explaining to Can that one of the other nurses called out and she couldn’t find anyone to cover for them.

Which is how Cas ended up in room 5 wiping down the surfaces and pulling a new paper cover over the bed. Cas knew all about patient privacy, but really, the conversation easily carried into the room when the man who must be one of Dr. Barnes patients had decided to continue talking to her out in the hallway. The man had a compelling voice and by the time Cas realized he was eavesdropping it was too late to avoid it as leaving room 5 now would have only made the unsuspecting patient realize he’d been overheard.

“Um, and, I’m really sorry about this doc, but I probably can’t afford the bill for today’s services right away.”

“Dean, just call Meg like I told you. Our pharmacy here is amazing at finding co-pay cards for these types of medications.”

“I will talk to her, I swear. It’s just when we had to switch insurance plans the new one says the co-pay for that grade of medicine is $100 a dose. I’m honestly not sure I can make that work Dr. Barnes.”

“I understand, but you need this medicine Dean. Your RA will flare right back up without it. If that happens you eventually won’t be able to work at all. Even skipping doses is ill-advised, letting the inflammation persist could eventually cause permanent damage to your joints.”

“I get it doc, I do, but $400 a month? It’s basically choosing between eating and my ability to move without pain.”

“Dean, just talk to Meg. We will figure something out. At least promise me you’ll take the Humira every other week. I know it didn’t manage your symptoms well at the lower dose before, but it was still better than letting the RA go untreated.”

Dean must have responded to Dr. Barnes in some way Castiel couldn’t hear, because after a few moments the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading as they moved towards the front desk. Cas hurried out of room 5, the trash bag hanging unnoticed from his wrist. His heartbeat sped up as he worried that he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of “Dean” before he left the office. Cas didn’t really know what he was planning on doing, just that he couldn’t stand the thought of this man resigning himself to pain all because the healthcare industry was such an awful mess that it would burden someone with choosing food over medicine. Something about the way Dean had sounded reminded him so much of his sister, Anna, right before she had left Castiel forever. That feeling drew Cas forward to meet a man he didn’t know. Cas couldn’t solve Dean’s money problems, Cas couldn’t force the government to change how healthcare was run in the country, Cas couldn’t even make Dean’s medical issues any better – but he could meet this man and maybe make him smile for a moment. Maybe, if he was brave enough, he could offer him some sort of friendship so maybe he would have one more person to help him through his struggles. Cas had been too young to understand how alone Anna must have felt but he knew more about it now. Helping people like Anna was what had drawn Cas to medicine in the first place.

Turning the corner Cas was startled to see what could only be a 6-foot flannel-wearing freckled god. The man was Hollywood beautiful and for a moment Cas forgot what had brought him rushing around the corner in the first place. The sound of Alex pointedly snapping her fingers brought Castiel back to reality as he broke of his inappropriate staring. He felt his skin heat up rapidly as he blushed.

“Did you finish room 5, Castiel?” Alex stared at him expectantly. Silently, Cas handed over the trash bag and muttered something about taking his lunch break outside. Too embarrassed by his very obvious admiration of the man that must have been Dean, Cas didn’t think he could talk to him in front of Alex. He rushed out the front door in the hopes that the autumn air would help him pull himself together. He didn’t know why he’d felt so compelled to talk to a man who’s private and very personal conversation he’d overheard. He was almost glad that his humiliating gawking had saved him from speaking to the guy. After all, what would he have said anyway? The air alone wasn’t helping Castiel’s composure, so he began pacing in front of the building.

“I mean how do you go up to a stranger and tell them they aren’t alone and that good things do happen? It’s not like it wouldn’t embarrass the guy to know I overheard him talking about his money problems…” Cas froze as he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

“Uh, hey man. I actually came out to ask you something else, but I think this just got awkward.” Cas took a deep breath already knowing it was Dean standing behind him. Cas’ habit of muttering to himself when anxious had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion, but never quite as badly as this felt. Sadly, his fervent wish to turn invisible on the spot was being ignored by the universe and he found himself staring into striking green eyes while wondering how he could possibly salvage this situation.

“H-hello Dean. I’m Castiel, and I can’t apologize enough for overhearing your conversation with Dr. Barnes. I swear it wasn’t intentional, I was cleaning out the room you were standing near and – “

“Whoa, hold up buddy. I’m not mad or anything. I mean, it wouldn’t be my topic of choice to start chatting up the hot new guy at my doctor’s office, but you clearly work in healthcare, I’m sure you’ve heard the same thing from lots of folks.” Cas’ brain froze a bit when Dean referred to him as hot, but then it caught up with what he was actually saying.

“Er, actually I’m just shadowing Dr. Garth for the day, but yes, I have heard stories like yours. My sister, Anna, went through something similar. That’s why I wanted to say something to you but wasn’t sure what. Then I actually saw you and, well, you saw. I’m not really good with subtlety. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.” Dean threw his head back with a barking laugh and Cas found himself staring at the beautiful man yet again.

“Having someone like you checking me out definitely doesn’t make me uncomfortable. If it makes you feel better, I came out hoping to ask if you’d be interested in going to the Harvest Festival tonight. I have to work for a bit at my store’s booth but if you were free around 7, I’d love to talk with you more. Even if it’s just whatever you wanted to talk to me about before.” Dean smiled flirtatiously at Cas, and there was no way to resist that.

“Yes, I’d love to! Where should I meet you?”

They exchanged information quickly, and parted ways with matching smiles. Cas would get his chance to tell Dean how his sister gave up her fight with cancer because she knew her treatments were bankrupting the family. He’d tell him how he’d was hoping to be a doctor himself one day to maybe help someone else like Anna win their fight despite the shitty healthcare system. He’d also tell Dean that he’d chased him down the hall because he’d desperately wanted to tell him that maybe they were strangers, but that he hoped Dean didn’t give up and that he’d be willing to be there for him if having a friend would help.

Now though, Cas thought maybe he’d already made Dean’s day a bit brighter, and he looked forward to getting to know the handsome man better. Maybe his impulse to offer his friendship to a stranger wasn’t as insane as it first seemed, and if Castiel was reading things right perhaps friendship wasn’t the only thing they had to offer one another.

[uncurlinglikeflowers]

Queer Trauma, Coming Out, & the Long Road to Self-Love and Healing

As I’ve reflected on my past, I’ve discovered that my adolescence may be one of, if not THE most traumatic time of my life thus far as a queer person. The last few months with my incredible therapist have made me realize that the years of anxiety, panic, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and depression have scarred me deeper than I had previously thought. She also made me realize that this is at least partially because I have never really talked about it openly and in depth in a healthy and productive way before, which is what inspired me to start this blog to share my experiences with others that are currently struggling with their identity, or to allow those that are also currently healing from the trauma of their previously closeted life feel a little more seen.

I knew from a VERY young age that I was different, but didn’t know how or what it meant. I was a lonely kid for a lot of my childhood without many friends. I didn’t want to play football with the boys during recess. I sought companionship at lunch with a table full of girls more often than not, which in itself also made me feel incredibly self conscious at the time as well. 

I asked, (with incredible shame) for the “girl’s toy” from the backseat in the McDonald’s drive-thru because I loved to play with the mini-Barbies and craft entire storylines for them. They were easier to hide in my room than regular sized Barbies. I spent most summers off school alone playing video games and reading book and book after book. I didn’t really click with the boys down the street. I was obsessed with Britney Spears and the color purple. I was lonely without really knowing what it meant.

I feel as though that fear I felt in my childhood and adolescence held me back from SO much. Middle school in particular was absolute hell. I hated it. I always felt constantly insecure and uncomfortable. I had absolutely zero confidence or self love. I hated my body and how I looked. 

While other kids experienced their first relationships and first feelings of romantic love, I was convinced that it was just not a possibility for me. On top of being deeply closeted, scared, confused, lonely, and in deep denial, girls didn’t go for me anyway. I was the awkward chunky guy struggling with his identity feeling like he had to make up for it by working extra hard to get perfect grades and give himself 100% to other people. I tried not to think about it too much, but hearing about relationships, seeing people kiss in the hallways between classes, and girls talking about what they liked in boys which was the complete opposite of me... it was hell.

To make my self consciousness worse, I felt supremely uncomfortable in gym class and the boys’ locker room in particular. I was ashamed of my body and also self conscious for wanting to look at the other boys; terrified that they would catch on and beat me senseless. Hearing them consistently call each other f*g in a very VERY negative context drove me deep into the closet as the identity I already felt shame for was directly correlated with being a ridiculed outcast, and something that was inherently, disgustingly wrong and unacceptable. The worst insult teenage boys could deliver to each other in the safety of an unchaperoned locker room in a hick town often not kind to queer people or those that were different. I SO desperately wanted to fit in with the other boys instead of being any version of who I actually was.

Part of that façade of blending in with my hetero peers involved having a girlfriend for two months in 8th grade. We didn’t even kiss, let alone approach any sexual situations. I’m sure she had her suspicions. I was utterly obsessed with the concept of blending in by having a girlfriend like the other boys and just having someone special in my life, even if we really didn’t even do any couple things. 

Upon reflection, I don’t think the concept of ever being sexual with her ever crossed my mind in the slightest. Even the idea of kissing her scared the hell out of me, and not just from first kiss nerves. Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for me. Don’t EVER tell a kid they’re too young to know. Fast forward to modern times, my first kiss with a girl was with a close friend YEARS after I came out. Go figure. 

The idea of caring about and loving myself was non-existent at that time. It’s a very VERY new and ongoing journey for me. I didn’t really care about myself at all. I hadn’t learned how to. Mom was in and out of cancer treatments, and would later pass during my senior year of college and kick off my coming out process, but that’s a whole other post for another day. Spending pretty much my entire childhood watching mom deal with being sick, I didn’t want to cause my family any more discomfort. I was full of self loathing, fear, and confusion, but it seemed irrelevant and unimportant because I didn’t want to be a hindrance. 

Instead, I tried so desperately to be the perfect kid and son by befriending my teachers, being a model student, and joining band and a bunch of organizations to stay as busy as possible to stay distracted and impress everyone else.I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think I was allowed to or deserved to in my own head. While I did finally make more meaningful friends in high school, I continued to go through the motions to make my family proud to make up for the scared closeted kid who thought he had to make up for his queerness as though it were a shameful weakness, and it seemed to be the only thing that could possibly matter at the time.

Non-surprisingly, I never really knew any openly queer boys in grade school. It probably legitimately wasn’t all that safe to come out in that environment. I’ll never forget the two boys I saw holding hands in a Wal-Mart that absolutely shook up my entirely reality, because I had never seen romantic same-sex affection in person before. 

There was a lesbian couple at my school, but people said awful, degrading things about them behind their backs constantly and acted like they were the biggest freaks. Another boy in my grade in high school hadn’t come out yet officially but was very flamboyant, and thus was treated just as awful as the lesbian couple, if not worse. Other kids just regularly said despicable things about him without even knowing him at all. I even heard parents make blatantly homophobic jokes about him. 

His life had to have been hell, and as a fully out queer adult, I still regret not being able to stand up for him more. That definitely forced me deeper into the closet. He wasn’t even out but got talked about like he was some disgusting abomination. How could I ever assume that I could ever come out, let alone kiss, date, and love another boy? I HATED the idea of any attention being placed on me, so I just wanted to survive school at that point.

I had multiple people throughout high school ask me if I were gay just as though it were the most casual question rather than a triggering inquiry that sent me into a mental frenzy every damn time it was presented. Having one of the jock boys ask me such a deeply personal question in passing on the way to my seat in Algebra class was traumatizing. I of course always said no, as at the time I was still convinced it was a passing phase and that I couldn’t actually be gay. 

At home, in the days of Myspace, I got anonymous messages telling me they were pretty sure I was gay. The anonymity was arguably worse in some ways. 

At a young age, I became hyper aware of how I carried myself, talked, and acted. I loathed hearing my voice or seeing myself in pictures, for fear of sounding too feminine or standing or emoting too gay. I obsessed over the concept that boys and girls carried their books a certain way, or the boys would be labelled as queer. I was paranoid about where I shopped for clothes, the colors I wore, and the length and fit of my shorts. 

In middle school, I got a lilac colored trapper keeper for school that I ultimately had my parents take back to the store for a different one because I felt so self conscious about it all day. At home I played with my little Barbies, but didn’t dare tell the kids at school for fear of rejection and isolation. Overall, I felt grossly incompetent, irrelevant, and unimportant in my own mind. Unworthy of love and of course, deeply ashamed for my attraction to the other boys.

I never had anyone whatsoever to help guide me through the coming out process, because I didn’t know a single queer person who could. I’ve now dedicated a good amount of my energy trying to be that person I desperately could have used then for anyone else that needs that role to be filled, and for someone to tell them that someone is incredibly proud of them. An obscene amount of queer people don’t ever hear “I’m so proud of you!” when they really need it the most. 

I also didn’t have any good queer representation on TV or in movies, so I really did feel completely alone at times. Most queer characters in media existedly solely to be made fun of and mocked, ratcher than celebrated, properly represented, or God forbid, given a legitimate love story, and the public’s reaction was so frequently one of such repugnance and disapproval. 

This was also probably about the time that a close family member told me that he had punched a gay guy for hitting on him when he was younger, a story he again felt the need to share with a now ex-boyfriend and I when we were dating, as though that’s not a horrifying thing for an already scared and closeted queer to hear from their own family. 

I think during middle school in particular is when my anxiety and depression issues started, but I assumed either that I was being a baby and that my feelings were invalid, or that it was just teenage angst. The idea that boys and men should mask their emotions and feelings and feel shame rather than expressing them was, (and seemingly appears to continue to be) a very real thing in small towns and society in general. 

It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was experiencing varying levels of almost daily trauma that would fuck me up well into adulthood. If you take anything at all from this post, let it be that the conversation around mental health, (and men in particular in this instance) NEEDS to change.

Another particularly noteworthy event in my queer adolescence was when two of my friends, (both girls, shocker) discovered gay porn on my computer. While they pestered me about if it were mine while they laughed, I of course lied. I felt a deep shame and utter humiliation. On reflection, fucking IMAGINE if they had been able to be gentle and understanding with me and told me they loved me and still would even if I were gay. From then on I was terrified that they would bring that day up to our other friends as a joke. Perhaps they did a time or two, I don’t recall. These same friends made jokes about the queer kid I mentioned earlier, and both parents of one of the girls regularly gossiped and made homophobic jokes about him when I was at their house 

By the time school dances rolled around, I knew I would never be able to go with anyone but friends. Even if I weren’t still deeply closeted, I’m pretty sure my school still had pretty strict rules against bringing same-sex dates to Prom. While I definitely had fun with my friends at the dances we went to, I so desperately longed for a world where I could dance with a boy who loved me like everyone else was able to.

The loneliness and isolation I felt at the end of those nights could be unbearable because it didn’t seem possible for me, even as I looked into the future. I was fully convinced I would live a very lonely life without anyone to love me the way I craved. I didn’t belong in that world, and wouldn’t ever be set up for that kind of happiness, joy, and feeling of content. I would live for everyone else but myself because that’s just the way the world worked for us queers.

I wish I had had just one single person then who gave me full permission to be my authentic queer self on any level. Someone who could hug me and tell me life after high school and college could and would be vastly different. Someone to tell me I wasn’t an unlovable disgusting freak, but rather a kind-hearted boy who deserved a deep love someday because I was a valid and gentle soul who deserved the world. I certainly deserved more than the shame and pain that constantly haunted me. 

Maybe then I wouldn’t have thought about death before 30 so much and obsessed over it well into my college career. I might have realized that I needed to learn to be gentle with myself and take care of and prioritize me and my own happiness. So many people let me down and convinced me that I was a filthy sinner and an over-emotional kid with invalid perspectives and feelings. As most of my closest friends, (that I cannot stress enough have been the ones to save my life and encourage the authenticity that I present so proudly today) came into my life after I had already come out fully, they weren’t around during those dark early struggles. 

Sometimes as an adult I still wonder what it would have felt like and how profoundly different my life could be if someone had held me close and sincerely told me they’re proud of me for what I survived and overcame, and told me that they can’t wait to see my eyes light up with the love I’ve always dreamed of in a boy, and that I still continue to seek. 

Young, baby gay Travis would be in absolute awe if he knew what life had in store for him back then. To see a future version of himself painting his nails, wearing whatever he wanted, dancing with strangers at pride festivals, having the time of his life at drag shows with his queer family and falling in love with boys? Proudly holding a boyfriend’s hand walking downtown in a busy city? Openly telling his dad about the cute boy he’s going on a date with? Going Facebook official with a boy? Being a super vocal advocate and inspiration and mentor to not only queer family, but to people he hardly talks to but manages to influence and inspire just by unashamedly being himself? Genuinely looking forward to kissing his new husband in front of family and friends on his wedding day, knowing it’ll be one of the happiest days of his entire life? 

Holy. Actual. Fuck.

Travis of six or seven years ago wouldn’t have even dared to dream this big, let alone baby gay Travis. He probably would have been utterly mortified but SO comforted to see that future life when he didn’t believe it to be any level of possible.

I’m so fucking proud of myself for this journey, and no one will ever take that away from me or water down my trauma or the grueling work I’ve put in. Genuinely, this is the one thing in my life that makes me absolutely burst with pride. 

I think I want to learn how to keep baby Travis in mind with this pride without having to revisit the trauma in the process. Look back at him with open arms, excited to see him learn and blossom into his actual self someday. Even if he could have desperately used someone like the me I am today, he survived then, and continues to persevere today. 

He’s queer as fuck, and proud to shout it from the rooftops. He’s a voice and an advocate for the voiceless. A shining light and beacon of hope for those still navigating their terrifying escape from their closeted life. He’s going to meet a man someday and love him so deeply in the way baby Travis always dreamed of. Above all, he’s going to continue to make that little guy so incredibly proud because he knows now the importance of loving himself in the process. 

I’m so proud of that scared little boy. I just wish he could have known then how proud he would make himself one day.   

As you talk with the queer people in your life, please keep in mind that just about all of us have incredible trauma directly tied to our identities. Talk to them with love, compassion, and understanding. Tell them how proud of them you are for pursuing their own happiness in the face of oppression and rejection. 

Demand better from elected officials. Advocate for us. Shut down homophobic ideals, even if you think it’ll make your family and friends uncomfortable to hear. Support queer content, artists and creators. Be a proud ally, but don’t ever allow yourself to take the spotlight away from actual queer people or our queer spaces. Mourn, love, and celebrate with us. 

Understand why pride is SO fucking important to us, and why you never have to worry about needing your own pride events. Listen to us and love us for exactly who we are, and were always meant to be. Love is the most incredible, beautiful, and often rare human experience we’re able to experience during our short time on this planet, and it should always be celebrated.

Happy Pride!

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X7

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

They did it! I can’t believe it! They actually killed DeLuca off! I’m so happy right now! As long time readers will know I have never been a Andrew DeLuca fan and I speculated back in the summer that they might be planning to write his character off after it was revealed that the planned finale for Season 16 included an explosion that was supposed to claim the life of one of the characters. I speculated that DeLuca was the most likely candidate with Tom and Jackson being the most likely runners up because I felt that they had gone as far as they could with DeLuca’s character and there wasn’t much left for him to do on the show.

Add that to the fact that the actor who plays DeLuca said a bunch of stuff to the press last year where he spoiled some pretty major plot points and stated that he knew things about where the show was going when he hadn’t even read a single script for the season yet and I was pretty sure his days were numbered. That being said, the show had teased us a bunch of times about firing, killing, or writing off the character during seasons 15 and 16 and they never went through with it so a big part of me was skeptical that they ever would.

But it turns out I was right! His days were numbered and they wound up killing him off in the Mid-Season Premiere! I’m still in shock. It hasn’t really sunk in yet to be honest. This episode honestly made me wish we’d gotten to see the remaining episodes and finale of Season 16 as planned. Based on what we know it looks like the plan was for Richard, Bailey, Meredith, and Carina to stage an intervention, DeLuca was to go away and get treatment and return to the hospital only to die tragically in an explosion.

Season 17 would have opened with the characters finding out about that and mourning his death and I think it would have been interesting to see Meredith navigate that as in the Finale Hayes asked her out and she said yes. It seems likely that if the COVID-19 Pandemic had not hit when it did and shut down production and altered filming for this season we would have seen Meredith and Hayes go out for a drink and start dating.

Seeing Meredith navigate the loss of her ex-boyfriend who she was no longer close to while in the beginning stages of her relationship with Hayes would have been very interesting and I’m sorry we didn’t get to see that. I’m also sorry that due to safety restrictions Meredith and Hayes haven’t had much screen time this season, but it looks like that’s about to change as I’ll get into a bit later.

Back to the episode at hand. I never liked DeLuca as a character and I hated him with Meredith so I’m glad that they killed him off and that we never have to deal with that nonsense again. I’m glad that they caught the human trafficker Opal and took those people down. I was never super invested in that storyline so I’m glad they wrapped that up. I feel so bad for Carina though. She’s a great character and is wonderfully acted by Stefania Spampinato.

My heart broke for her in this episode because while I won’t miss her brother I know that she will and will be absolutely gutted when she finds out that he’s died especially after she worked so hard to get him help and treatment for his Bipolar Disorder. I’m glad she has Maya there to support her.

LOL at Bailey sleeping through the whole damn episode! What did I miss indeed! That poor woman slept through DeLuca getting stabbed, almost dying, not dying, having surgery twice, and then actually dying as well as the other shenanigans going on at the hospital. I loved that she was asleep at Meredith’s bedside especially after they spent a good chunk of Season 16 fighting.

I also feel really bad for Richard in that he’s obviously grateful that DeLuca helped save his life and wanted to help and when Owen turned him down because it wasn’t a good idea for him to scrub in Richard lurked in the background in the OR gallery the whole time to make sure that everything was okay. Plus he can’t talk to Meredith about it right now because she’s in a coma which must be so difficult for him. The extra stress also puts his sobriety at risk and that worries me.

I got to be honest I am struggling to understand Teddy’s point of view this season. She’s being really awful! She’s being cruel to Tom. She was cruel to Owen. I don't know what Teddy expected to have happen. Both Cristina and Amelia walked away from their marriages to Owen and moved on with their lives in large part because they realized Owen was in love with Teddy and always would be.

And then she finally gets what she’s wanted all these years and the minute she realizes Amelia’s baby might be Owen’s and not Link’s she runs back to Tom and has a several months long affair with him and then drops him like a hot potato as soon as she realizes that the baby is Link’s and after Owen finds out about the affair she refuses to talk to Tom for months and then comes crawling back to him and wants to be his friend after Owen makes it clear he wants nothing to do with her. WTF?

I feel bad for Tom. I really like his character. He’s super interesting and complex and he deserves better than someone who treats him like that. Tom is a good man at heart and he treated Teddy like gold and in return she’s done nothing but break his heart and stomp all over him when he’s already down. He deserves someone better. I’ve never been an Owen fan, but honestly Teddy is behaving so horribly I’m on his side on this one.

They had some great scenes in the OR together, but Teddy clearly read too much into it. Every time he gives her a crumb she’s convinced he’s forgiven her and wants to give her a second chance and that’s not it at all. Owen has been clear. He doesn’t forgive her and he doesn’t want to get back together with her. All he wants is to co-parent peacefully and work together as colleagues because he values her skills as a surgeon. That’s it.

It was cute to see Teddy Face Timing with Leo. I’m glad they are finding safe ways to incorporate the kids into the story. Speaking of which, the scene where Amelia and Maggie tell Zola that her Mom has been placed on a vent and she might not come off it was heartbreaking. That kid has grown into her own as an actress and really holds her own in that scene.

Her line about how she didn’t want them to tell Bailey or Ellis yet because they’re too young to understand broke me heart. Zola’s only a few years older than them but she’s old enough to understand the impact of what’s happening in a way that they can’t. And she remembers how hard it was when Derek died. When Cristina left. When Alex left. She doesn’t want to put her siblings though the same thing especially when Alex’s departure is still so fresh for them and they never got a chance to really know their Dad. The fact that Zola can recognize that at such a young age is raw and heart breaking.

We saw Winston and Maggie reconnect this episode which would have been super hot and enjoyable if Meredith hadn’t just been put on a ventilator! The scene where Jackson showed up looking for Maggie was too funny! I loved the scenes with Jackson, Link, and Winston in the backyard having beers! Winston has a great sense of humour and seems to be a calming presence. I like the idea of those three being friends.

Link’s face when he realized that Winston doesn’t know that Maggie and Jackson used to date and are also step-siblings. I’ll be interested to see Winston’s reaction when that comes out. I loved Link’s rant about how worried he was about Meredith and what her declining health and potential death was doing and would do to Amelia. Did anyone else catch that he called Amelia his wife? I’m calling it. They’re foreshadowing an Amelink wedding!

I liked hearing Jackson talk about how Meredith is family and they’re all worried and Winston’s comments about how all they can do is just keeping moving physically and metaphorically. I’m also loving Amelia and Maggie’s wardrobes this season. Their sweaters in this episode were gorgeous! Hats off to the wardrobe department! They’re looking good!

I loved seeing Jo and Hayes work together again because I love their friendship, but to be honest I was expecting more of the friendly teasing and banter of last season where she egged him on about Meredith and they traded barbs. Their scenes in this episode were a lot more intense and agitated. She totally played him with that line about Meredith.

He kept saying no to taking Luna to see her Mom and so Jo made it personal for him. If Meredith asked to see her kids Hayes would never say no and he would move heaven and earth for her. By making that connection Jo got him to agree to her plan. I also love that the reason he kept saying no in the beginning was because of what happened to Meredith.

She went from laughing and joking to being put on a vent and he doesn’t want to run the risk with any other patient and it’s obviously eating him up inside. He misses her. He cares about her and he’s clearly terrified about the possibility of her not waking up. That being said, Jo’s line where she compared Alex leaving her for Izzie because he found out he had kids he didn’t know he had and sending her a heartfelt letter to Hayes spending years watching his wife and the mother of his two boys die of cancer was way out of line. Super not okay. I really think that Jo is going to adopt that baby. I think that’s why they are setting up her interest in OBGYN.

In other news, Nico is still a terrible boyfriend to Levi. I honestly don’t know why Levi puts up with him. Levi really shone in this episode I think. He felt responsible for what happened, but instead of bungling things and making things worse like he might have done in the past he got out of his own way and asked Dr. Khan who was a vascular surgeon in Pakistan prior to immigrating to the U.S. to take his place.

I feel like this episode implies that the Beach is limbo now as I don’t know how else DeLuca could have ended up there as he wasn’t someone who was close to Meredith the way that Derek, George, Richard, and Bailey are. Not sure how I feel about that as I was kind of liking the is it a COVID dream is it the afterlife ambiguity.

Onto next week’s promo! I’m not excited that they appear to be setting up an episode in which the other characters mourn DeLuca’s passing as none of the other characters apart from Carina were really that close to him. They spent the last two seasons establishing that everyone hated his guts, considered him a nuisance, and only put up with him because they had to. So to me the other characters mourning him doesn’t feel authentic or real. It just feels forced.

There are several things I am excited about though. Seeing Maggie’s reaction to his death I think will be interesting. She was visibly upset and ran to his side when Alex beat him up in Season 13 and mourning the loss of your ex-boyfriend who you were no longer close to while being in a committed relationship with someone new I think is an interesting dynamic. She’s kinda standing in for Meredith here because she’s on a vent.

I’d like to see Catherine support Richard and make up for her horrible behaviour last season. And the best thing of all: Hayes!!! In the promo trailer we see Hayes sitting at Meredith’s bedside talking to her about how she needs to fight and how they all need her to fight. Bring it on! It’s about damn time! And Derek’s back and he’s … fishing? I’m excited to see what happens there and if they actually get to talk and have a real conversation this time. It has also been announced that Sarah Drew will be returning for a cameo as Dr. April Kepner this season so I’m excited for that!

Until next time!

[livingmybestfictionallife]

A Cobra’s Eros | 2

2. "It's a stick shift, you know." "Hardly my first."

Chapter Summary: Althea makes the acquaintance of a drunk man she knows only as ‘Johnny’ by stealing his car keys and insisting she keep him from killing himself. The pair find themselves together on the beach late at night and Althea decides it’s time to be selfish for once in her life per Johnny’s advice. See warnings below.

Warnings: Alcohol use, cursing, NSFW content towards the end. Don’t read if under 18 or if it makes you uncomfortable--you will be able to see things heating up. You won’t miss anything in terms of plot other than (SPOILERS) Johnny’s insecurities about his age and the fact that Althea and Johnny hook up.

A sigh of relief escaped Althea's lips as she glanced down at her phone to see her brother decided to get dinner with a friend. She was glad Demetri was responsible enough to send her the address of his friend's home, as well as their parent's phone number, but shame continued to swell within her as she sipped from her vodka-Sprite. Within ten minutes of her arriving at her mother's side, a nurse came in to administer pain medication and informed Althea that it was not suggested she stay given the possible negative side-effects of the medication.

Althea had always done everything in her life by the book, and in spite of doing everything 'the right way' life's cruel and unfair nature had crawled under her skin and attacked her heart. Without a second thought, Thea ordered a Lyft, placed herself in the back of a stranger's car, and made her way to the one place she could think of where it was acceptable to be this emotionally low in public: a hole in the wall, dive bar. She let the liquor burn against the walls of her throat and remained motionless as the bubbles from the carbonation in the drink scratched on the way down. Slowly, her vision began to blur again as her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away before anyone could notice her pain. With another long gulp of her drink, Althea tried to numb her heart and mind from the world.

The bell above the door jingled to signal another patron had entered, but Thea remained focused on how cold her fingertips were when she touched the part of her glass that contained ice. She was content to feel anything at that moment, even if it was the bitter cold bite of ice against her skin. She could hear the bartender mutter obscenities under his breath as his eyes gazed over the individual that had just entered the bar, and Thea furrowed her eyebrows as she looked up at the mirror before her. Despite the dim lights that lit the bar, she could see the reflection of the room, and tried to focus her attention on the individual the bartender was complaining about. Although she was uncertain of the culprit, she figured it would be safe to assume that the blonde man that staggered and swayed through the room on his way towards the bar was the cause of the bartender's frustrations.

It appeared to Althea that the man had been drinking heavily before he arrived, so she flattened her back and extended her elbows to the side in order to appear as if she was taking up more room than she was. Her efforts of keeping the stumbling drunk man away from her failed when he dropped against the stool beside her, pointed to a bottle of Jack Daniels, and slurred, "I'll take a fifth." The man struggled to enunciate the last word, which led to a slur of 'f' and 'th' sounds coming from his mouth in random intervals.

"I'm not sure if I can legally serve you," the bartender sighed as he looked over the man's disheveled appearance. Thea too examined the man from out of the corner of her eye: his shoes were untied, his shirt stained with what appeared to be blood, and she assumed it was the same blood that seeped through the poor excuse for a bandage that was wrapped around the man's right fist. His face looked tired and worn, and his blonde hair was shoved in different directions, but what stood out most to Thea was the small pools that collected in his weary, light blue eyes.

"Just give me the bottle, man," the man beside Althea slurred as he slammed his injured hand down on the bar in a fury. It was clear to Thea that the anger in the man's voice and movements masked the pain that caused those small, almost unrecognizable tears to form. Had she not been in that same state of anguish and anticipation of grief, she would have overlooked his watery eyes, but having fought against her own tears all damn day, Althea could see his pain. With a huff of aggravation in his tone, the bartender turned, grabbed the bottle, and handed it to the intoxicated individual only for the man to stand up and stagger away with the bottle draped down to his side.

"What the hell?" the bartender yelled out across the room as he watched the blonde walk away. Onlookers and bystanders turned their heads from the person who had shouted to the man who currently held a middle finger over his head as he slowly made his way from the bar. "Piece of shit," the bartender continued to grumble as he reached for the phone to call the police. Curiously, Althea's eyes remained on the stranger as he paced away, and she would have let him leave had she not notice him reach into his pocket for his keys. In a rush, she placed two twenty-dollar bills along with a ten down on the counter, and told the angry man behind the bar to keep whatever change was left before she finished off her drink and followed the stranger into the parking lot.

The blonde man staggered, stumbled, and drug his feet as he tried to figure out where he parked his car. With his equilibrium off, the top half of his body swung and swayed around in a desperate attempt to stay above the bottom half despite not knowing where the bottom half was going. In this attempt to stay standing, his shoulder collided with that of another, much bigger man than himself, which sent him spinning, only to be forced backwards into the chest of another burly biker. Althea had just exited the bar to see three men well over six-feet tall and weighing more than two-hundred pounds apiece form a circle around the man she had followed out of the bar. She was too far away to hear the brute grunts of words as the men began to antagonize the outnumbered individual, nor with slurred comments being spout in return, but she could see their mouths moving in a violent and angry manner. Before she could make her way any closer to the scene unfolding before her, Althea watched as the blonde man with a bottle of Jack took a fierce, collected swing towards one of the biker's faces. She could hear the collision of knuckles cracking against a mandible and wrapped a protective hand around her dominant hand as if she felt the pain absorbed by the blow. For a moment, it seemed as if things would remain stagnant, but Althea had been a witness to too many fights to know that after being struck, it's instinct to strike back.

The man who received the blow immediately clutched his jaw in his hands, and his two friends each took hold of his attacker. Althea tried to walk faster as she watched the man deliver blow after blow to the already bloodied man, but there was a slight fear within her that told her this wasn't her fight. There was no reason for her to be there, to intercede and help this man. In all reality, she couldn't do much to stop what was happening, but she knew could do more here than she could with her mother. Her mother's cancer wasn't her fight and that fact had been gnawing a hole in Althea's heart since her mother first got sick. She couldn't take the treatment for her mom, she couldn't diffuse the situation or negotiate the cancer away, she couldn't do anything but sit and watch as her mother's pain grew each day. With the man before her, she could jump between him and someone else, and at least if she got hit she would feel something.

Althea's walk turned into a jog and she quickly grew close enough to hear the conversation the men were having in between hits. She watched as the leather-vested men holding onto the blonde man each kicked the back of his legs and forced him to his knees. In a quick and violent motion, the main culprit grabbed a fistful of the blonde man's hair from the back of his head and pulled back so that the lights shone on his face and he was forced to look up at his attackers.

"It's messed up that back in high school we used to be afraid of you, with your Kung Fu fighting and your little posse. Where's all that power now?"

"You're nothing but a waste! You made fun of us in school for being losers; well take a long look in the mirror, bud!"

"You're fucking worthless!"

Althea narrowed her eyes as she noticed the a fist being raised above the man attacker's head and a figured a hard blow to the face would soon make contact if she didn't put an end to their ruthlessness. Quickly, she asserted herself between the pair, and sent her foot flying into the attacker's groin. As the man doubled over in pain, she grasped him by the back of his head and pulled his head downward as her knee soared up and made contact with his nose. Almost immediately she regretted her decision as she felt the ache in her joint, but the man was too stunned to notice her pain.

"What the hell, bitch?!"

"Back off," Althea growled as she stared the man down. She hadn't thought through what to do if the other two came after her, and she regretted not having a solid plan before breaking the man's nose on her kneecap.

"He's an asshole and a worthless piece of shit! He'll always be those things, so why don't you take your pretty ass somewhere else and let us finish what we started." The man's voice was deeper than it had been before, as if he was trying to intimidate her with a sultry tone, but Thea took a solid step towards the man before her now with her eyes narrowed upon his gaze.

"From where I'm standing, you're the asshole." Her voice didn't raise above a conversational tone, but it was fierce and sharp, and the man before her pursed his lips for a moment before he waved his hand for his buddies to join him as they wandered away from the scene. With the three men in leather biker vests pacing away from her, Althea turned on her heel and knelt over to offer the man on the ground a hand. With his left hand, he took hold of Althea's arm and used the woman to help him stand up.

Johnny had expected her to fall over the second he tugged his weight against her, but she remained rooted in the concrete. Johnny slung his arm over her shoulder and flinched slightly as he felt her arm rest carefully across his back. He hadn't seen who had stepped between him and that dick from his high school, and he didn't know what was done to get them to leave him alone, but the second he heard a woman's voice calling out from above him, his heart sank even lower than where it had been sitting all day. A woman had to step in and defend me...a fucking woman. Women were the ones meant to be protected, not the ones meant to do the protecting. Sure, he had learned otherwise since then—some of his most talented and devoted students were girls—but he never anticipated a woman having to keep him safe.

"Are you okay?" her voice called out again as she followed his footsteps, acting only as a means of support as he paced towards his car.

"I didn't need you to jump in," he grumbled as he pulled his arm from off her shoulders and attempted to stand up straight on his own.

"I could see you had the whole thing under control," the woman beside him sighed with sarcasm dripping all too obviously from her tone. With a huff in his voice, Johnny jingled his key ring around his fingers in order to try and find the key to his car as he neared his vehicle. Before he can even stretch out his arm to unlock the door, the woman had jumped in front of him yet again, this time however, he couldn't help but look. She was tall for a woman, and stood maybe five inches shorter than he did. Her dark hair framed her fair face and almost made her look even paler than she was, which gave him the impression of a dainty waif of a woman. His eyes traveled across her face first, taking in her sharp, determined eyes that had to have been one of the most stunning sights he'd ever seen; accented by long dark lashes, her light eyes twinkled under the lights of the parking lot like an icy moon, and he knew he had to look anywhere other than those eyes, lest they hold him prisoner. Upon further examination of the woman before him, Johnny realized she was anything but dainty; she had an athletic build with beautiful curves which his intoxicated mind had become lost in as he quickly looked over her hips and chest before his eyes traveled back up to meet her eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" Johnny's voice came out of his mouth much more aggravated than he intended to sound and he bit down on his lip to keep from cursing himself. Ever since he was young, he found it easier to push people away before they had the chance to throw him out like week old garbage. It was easier to be standoffish and rude than it was to be open to kindness, especially when his experience with kindness was always manipulated for someone else's favor.

"You're going to kill yourself if I let you get in this car," Althea stubbornly said as she leaned her butt against the driver's door and remained a barrier to this man.

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," Johnny snapped in return as he took a step forward to insert the key into the keyhole to unlock the car. Althea refused to move during this process, making it difficult for Johnny to turn the key without grazing the woman's hip and damn near impossible for him to open the door without her falling into him. The moment he pulled his hand back from unlocking the door, Althea grabbed the keys from the man's hand and let them fall gently in her own hand as her fingers twirled around the key ring. "What the hell? I've had a shitty fucking day! Just let me drive my damn car!" Johnny hated that he was screaming at this woman who was doing everything she could to keep him from wrapping his car around a pole, he hated that on some, if not any level, he was the same bitter, angry person Kreese had molded him to be.

"You're not the only person who's had a shitty day!" Althea hissed back at the man as she finally brought herself to look him in the eyes since they'd been speaking. "And I'm not going to let you kill yourself because you're too damn stubborn to call a cab or let someone else drive." The man's hooded eyes were swollen from trying to hold back tears and bloodshot from failing to do so. Althea couldn't stop herself from examining the man's physique. He wore a faded charcoal heather-grey t-shirt with a flannel wrapped tightly across his back with the sleeves stretching over his biceps and rolled up to his elbows to reveal his strong, muscular forearms. His jeans seemed old, but they still hugged his thighs in a flattering way, and Althea had to pull herself from her subconscious, knee-jerk wish for him to turn so she could see what his ass looked like. Suddenly, she remembered the tears she'd seen in his eyes at the bar and she took a deep breath. "Let me just drive you somewhere—anywhere—and we can share that bottle of Jack. It's the least you can do for me since I bought it." After watching the man purse his lips and consider her offer, Althea welcomed the gentle nod that came from the man as he took a few relenting steps toward the passenger side of the car.

"It's a stick shift, you know," Johnny muttered as he dropped into the seat and pulled the door shut behind him. As the engine roared to life, Althea pushed on the clutch and put the car into first gear.

"Hardly my first," she said with an ambitiously curt wink at the man beside her before she pulled out of the parking lot and into the street. A cocky smirk fell over Johnny's face as he replayed her words in his head, but he didn't have much time to laugh about it with himself before he had to spout off directions. As he raised his arm to point at the street she needed to turn on, Johnny noticed his stomach had already begun bruising from the beating he took and immediately wanted to be distracted.

"So, do you have a name?" Johnny felt like a dumbass the second the words left his mouth. What the shit? Of course she has a name. You sound like a damn clueless virgin asking 'do you have name?'

"Althea," the woman responded in a gentle tone before inquiring the same, "and you?"

"Johnny." Silence again engulfed the car only to be interrupted with him intermittently giving directions. With uncertainty in his voice, Johnny spoke again. "Um, do you—"

"We don't have to say anything to one another, Johnny," Althea said softly as she made the turn he had instructed her to.

"You'd rather sit in silence?" he huffed with a slight agitation in his voice.

"Some time in 1896, this Italian guy made a pretty great invention called a radio, and in 1920, it became a more widespread concept and was broadcasting globally," Althea said in a snarky tone that made Johnny's eyebrows furrow as he gazed at her.

"That was a really round about way to say you want to listen to music," he muttered as he jammed his index finger into the power button of the car's stereo. The unmistakable chorus to Scorpions' Rock You Like A Hurricane came blasting through the speakers so loudly it initially took Johnny by surprise. Quickly, he reached for the volume, only to have Althea's hand reach up and stop him. Her fingers were thin and soft compared to his, but he could still feel the remnants of callouses along the base of her fingers on the inside of her hand. Althea wasn't expecting to gently squeeze Johnny's hand in hers as she kept him from changing the volume or the station, but once her skin grazed his, her hand seemed to go limp under his touch.

"Don't change it! I love this song," she said and then released Johnny's hand from her own.

"Really? You know who this is?" People who lived in the eighties still had their qualms about listening to eighties music nowadays. He didn't understand why people thought the hair metal bands of his adolescence were overrated or shitty, but it drove him up the fucking wall. He didn't expect the woman beside him to be interested in the Scorpions, partially because his girlfriend back in high school couldn't stand them, and partially because of the fact that Althea was much younger than he was. Her skin was still tight across her body, her eyes didn't have visibly noticeable bags hanging from them or crows-feet peering from the corners, her lips were full and without frown or laugh lines, and her hands were free from the crevice's of aging he'd gained over the years. Sitting beside her youth and beauty, Johnny became all too familiar with his age.

"Of course! Love at First Sting is one of my favorite Scorpion albums," Althea said as she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the drums.

"No kidding," Johnny sighed as he listened intently just incase he could hear her singing beneath the volume of the song. "So how do you feel about Warrant?"

"They're okay. They don't rank as highly on my all-time favorites as other bands though," Thea said as she looked over to the man sitting beside her, jealous that he had the opportunity to see all of these amazing bands she grew up loving at the beginning of their journeys.

"You've got my attention," he muttered with a smirk as he tried to keep his eyes from drifting too deeply into hers. "Top five bands from the eighties, go."

"Top five? How can I narrow it down that quickly?" Thea laughed as the music flowed through her ears; meanwhile her laugh tickled his more than the music ever had.

"Easy: Ratt, AC/DC, Aerosmith, Metallica, Speedwagon." A curious smile formed over Johnny's face as he watched Althea nod along in agreeance of each band he added to his favorites list.

"Those are good, but I would definitely have to go with Mötley Crüe, Ozzy Osbourne, Metallica, Pantera, and AC/DC," Althea said as she carefully chose each band on her limited list of favorites.

"Bullshit! Pantera doesn't count," he called out as Althea brought the vehicle to a stop in a parking lot by a semi-enclosed portion of a beach.

"They formed in '81!" she protested passionately against Johnny's comment.

"But their biggest hits came from the nineties! That doesn't make them an eighties band." Althea opened her mouth to scoff at Johnny's comment and turned in her seat to face him.

"I left Nirvana off the list for this exact reason!"

"Nirvana wasn't a thing until well into the nineties," Johnny countered as he adjusted his position to better argue with the woman beside him.

"Nirvana was formed in 1987, technically making them a band from the eighties—"

"You're stretching for that one, Althea," Johnny chuckled. As the corners of his mouth tugged up into a grin, Althea smiled at the sight of his laugh lines as they stretched over his face in momentary joy.

"That's why I didn't include it, so you can at least give me Pantera since I'm allowing REO Speedwagon!"

"What's wrong with Speedwagon?" Johnny scoffed as he noticed Althea's hands becoming more and more fidgety as they sat in the car without purpose. Instinctually, he reached for the door handle and pulled himself from the vehicle with her following suit to continue the conversation.

"They were formed in '67, therefore, they're not technically an eighties band," she said with a smirk as she pulled her arms tight over her body and shivered slightly as the night air of Los Angeles carried a lightly chilly breeze.

"Fine, you can keep Pantera and I'll keep Speedwagon," Johnny chuckled as walked alongside Althea until they found a secluded portion of the beach and lowered themselves into the sand. Being trained in karate meant he was able to perceive even the slightest of movements in his opponent, so Johnny quickly noticed Althea's slight shivering and shed his flannel from his torso. With one of his arms extended around Althea's back holding up the shirt, and the other held on the side of her body he sat next to, she slid her arms through the sleeves and sighed a soft 'thank you' into the night.

There was a familiar tug in Johnny's chest, the one that convinced him to ask Ali Mills out all those years ago, the one that convinced him to open Cobra Kai, the one that told him to strike first, and with ever fiber of his being, he wanted to. He wanted to lose himself in the woman beside him, to forget about his worries and just worry about pleasing her for a moment so he could keep his mind from the bad he'd convinced himself he'd done—not to himself, but to Miguel and Robbie, and all the kids from his dojo that were going to become pawns in Kreese's sociopathic understanding of karate. He wanted to get lost in someone else rather than himself, but something he hadn't experienced in a long time kept him from making a move. In the back of his mind and the bottom of his heart, Johnny felt the pangs of rejection and inferiority.

Before Cobra Kai he'd known these feelings all too well; between his neglecting step-father and being bullied at school for being a loner without friends, Johnny knew what it felt like to not be wanted, to not feel good enough for someone to want to have around. The younger woman beside him could do better than a divorced, border-line alcoholic, small business owner with an eighteen-year-old son that hated him and a kid he'd come to love as his own that he blamed himself for being in the hospital right now without knowing if he will survive. She was beautiful and vibrant with an entire life before her; he was old and withering—his glory days were long behind him and trying to relive them as a sensei was a mistake that had begun to kill him. For once he'd met a woman too far out of his league that he was too cowardly to even take a swing, and the thought of her laughing at him or slapping him for making a move would be too much to add onto his existing stressors.

"Why don't we start in on this," Althea suggested as she unscrewed the cap from the Jack Daniels bottle and took a quick swig. She needed an escape from the endless circular reasoning and downward spiral that her mind had become. She thought that being just shy of thirty meant having a solid portion of her life figured out, or at least enough figured out to have a five-year plan, but with the twists and turns her mother's condition was taking, Althea couldn't even seem to develop a six-month plan for herself. The doctors still weren't certain on the current state of her mother's condition, and the only thing they could tell her was that the cancer was back and aggressive. There was no estimated time left, no plan for treatment other than chemo for now, and no telling if this was something she could bounce back from like before, but Althea knew deep in her bones that her mother had given up. She didn't want to face the reality that in a matter of days or weeks she could be calling her employers to say she would be moving back to Los Angeles to assume guardianship over her brother and begging them to keep her on as a remote employee. She didn't want to face the fact that she would have to find a way to deal with planning and paying for a funeral, looking through her mother's assets, combing through her will, and all of the other unpleasantries that people don't let you know about when a family member dies. She didn't even know how to talk to Demetri about what he wanted through all of this. Did he want to stay living in their parents' home without their parents' presence? Would that be too painful? Would it be comforting? He was so young when their father died, would losing his mother now be more devastating? As all of the questions came sprinting back to Althea's head, she quickly took the bottle of Jack from Johnny's hands, which forced him to spill a splash on the sand, and drank about three shots worth before reluctantly handing it back to the man beside her.

"Shit," Johnny muttered as he brought his attention from the shoreline to Althea. His shirt fell nicely over her body and made her look even more like a punk-rocker than her general appearance portrayed her as, and he had to admit it looked good on her, but his face fell and his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to get a read on her expressions. "You good?" It was a quick and emotionless question that received a nod and then a long exhale from her tight, apprehensive lungs. "You sure?" Johnny asked again after he took another swig from the bottle and then placed it between the two of them.

"I'm fine," Althea muttered helplessly as she watched the water slowly inch its way up the beach with each rolling wave as high-tide approached. "I'm not the type to burden others with my issues." Johnny exhaled deeply as he leaned backwards, propped himself up on his elbows, and gazed out at the water.

"I'm not a good listener, but if you need to bitch about life, I can bitch about it with you," he said as he watched the woman who seemed much smaller than him take another long drink from the whisky.

"It fucking sucks, doesn't it?" Althea let the words escape in anger as she picked up a rock that rested beside her and threw it as far as she could towards the water. "You try to do what you think is right—what the world makes you believe is something you should do—and the reward is what? Your life is never truly your own! You're constantly having to deal with other people's shit, other people's issues, all of the baggage that comes with being a person with other people relying on you."

"It's so much easier not having to deal with other people or developing relationships. Stick to yourself and you don't get hurt." He said the last sentence as if he were repeating a personal manifesto--one that Althea found herself jealous of.

"I wish it was that simple. I wish I didn't have to take care of anyone else and that I got to be alone and on my own for once, and I know that's a selfish and bitchy thing to wish, but I'm struggling to figure out what the fuck I'm supposed to do," Althea sighed as she pulled her knees up, rested her elbows against them, and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.

"What, are you pregnant or something?" Johnny asked as he grabbed the bottle of Jack instinctively just incase his assumption was correct. When he saw Althea's head shake dismissively back and forth, he placed the bottle back down after he took another drink from it.

"It's just family stuff," she tried to dismiss his inquisition and brought the bottle to her lips again. The glass lip of the whisky bottle tasted faintly of the beer Johnny had been drinking and something else, a flavor she found intoxicating but couldn't place for the life of her.

"Fighting with your husband?" Johnny asked as he took the bottle from Althea's hands and brought it to his mouth again. Hidden faintly by the burn of the liquor, he could taste the sweet notes of coconut that he assumed came from whatever balm or Chapstick that caused Althea's lips to shimmer so seductively.

"Is that your subtle way of asking if I'm married?" she returned in the same dry and emotionless tone Johnny had used to ask his question. After watching him pretend not to know what she was talking about, Althea smirked. His cocky smile was something she'd overlooked as arrogant rather than coy and playful, and she found herself getting lost in the grooves of his lips and cheeks as he flashed an intoxicated grin at her in the darkness. "No, no husband," Althea sighed as she felt her desperation begin to get the best of her. She didn't have any friends in Palo Alto to talk about her issues with, she couldn't burden her mom with her concerns, and she refused to make Demetri feel like his existence was a burden to her, so she kept everything bottled inside...until she looked into those peering, weary, needy blue eyes before her. "My mom is losing a battle I can't fight for her and soon I'll be the only person left in my family to take care of my little brother." Johnny bit his lip and sighed empathetically as he leaned in towards Althea and pressed the bottle to her lips for her. She tilted her head back and allowed him to dump whatever amount of whisky he planned to down her throat, but was thankful he only gave he a small swig.

"Was your father a dick like mine and take off on your mom?" Johnny asked bitterly as he brought the bottle to his lips, mostly just to taste the coconut he knew came from hers.

"He was killed by a drunk driver nine years ago," Althea muttered into the cool air around her and Johnny immediately felt like an asshole for his comment.

"I'm sorry, Althea, I didn't mean to insult him," Johnny said as he tried to extend his hand to apologetically rest on her arm, but lost his balance and ended up pressing his shoulder against hers. Unexpectedly, he felt Althea gently lean into him, so he extended his arm out behind her back to keep them both from falling over due to their intoxication.

"You didn't," she sighed as she clumsily reached across Johnny for the bottle of whisky that sat in the sand on the opposite side of Johnny's body. "Sorry about your dad being a piece of shit though," she said in a light, almost distant voice as both Althea and Johnny began to come to terms with their level of intoxication. The bottle had been full a mere ten minutes ago, and now it barely had enough liquid in it to make a sloshing sound when Althea plucked it from where it rested beside Johnny's hip. She was glad to feel the burn of liquor against the walls of her throat, happy to at least have that physical pain to distract her from the emotional pain that had been tearing at her heart for years.

"Dad, stepdad, they were both pieces of shit," Johnny sighed as he balled his hand that rested on the ground into a fist and gripped tightly to the grains of sand between his fingers and in his palm. "It's probably why I'm such a piece of shit." His hands grew tighter and his mind was focused on the tension in his fingers as he continued to pull his hands into tighter and tighter balls of anger.

"You can't be that much of piece of shit," Althea sighed as she leaned off of his shoulder for a moment to gently place her finger tips along his bicep as a way to get him to look at her.

"I'm a shitty father to my own kid who left him and his mom just like my dad did to me, except I didn't do it before he was born; he got to know me—he got to be used to me being there, and then I left," Johnny began his sentence as a mutter, but with each word his voice grew louder until he seemed to be cursing himself.

"Would his life be any better if you stayed with his mom?" Althea asked as she absentmindedly began to trace her thumb along the seam on the sleeve of Johnny's t-shirt.

"She and I hated each other!"

"So, no?" Althea interjected. "So, he would have grown up with hate and anger being the foundation of his life? So even if he's bitter at you now, he at least he doesn't resent you, right? If it means your kid will have a better chance in life, sometimes leaving is what you have to do."

"I never wanted to be my father or my stepfather, and now I'm fucking both," Johnny sighed as he forced the almost empty bottle into the sand between himself and Althea and then shoved his fingers through his fine, blonde hair. "You don't know me, Althea. Everyone who does would tell you exactly what I'm saying: I'm a no good, loser, piece of shit! Those assholes were right foe beating the shit out of me." Hesitant to show weakness, Johnny fought the urge to let any emotion other than anger escape his lips, so he folded his legs over one another, leaned forward, and stared out into the open, desperate to keep his eyes from meeting Althea's.

"If you're as much of a piece of shit as you think, you would have told me to fuck off for trying to make sure you didn't kill yourself, you wouldn't be letting me bitch about my life to you, and you would have called me out for being a selfish bitch." She slurred her words together with strange intervals of silence between certain phrases, but Johnny was also drunk and understood her slurred speech as the native tongue of the alcohol infused.

"You're not a bitch, Althea. I wouldn't have ever said that," Johnny sighed as he turned back to the woman beside him. The sun had begun to set on their drive to the beach, and with every passing second that led to the darkness they both currently sat in, Johnny thought Althea's beauty couldn't be matched as the golden rays of the sun danced over her skin; however, seeing her in the moonlight, he knew this was her purest form of beauty. It was as if her eyes were meant to be stars with the purpose of guiding lost souls to joy, as if her skin was meant to glow like a beacon under the light of the night to bring the wandering home. "You're dealing with a lot and deserve to be afraid of losing the ability to be selfish. All I've ever been was selfish, and it's screwed me so many times."

"All I've ever been is selfless, and now it looks like I'll never have the option of putting what I want first," she said gently as the fingers on her right hand began to trace small patterns in the sand in the sand between her and Johnny's hips.

"You're still so young! You have time to figure things out—"

"I could become a parent to a teenager in a matter of weeks or even hours!" Althea protested, "It's not like I have a lot of time to figure this out!"

"Use the time you have left to take what you want before life starts taking everything from you. Be selfish now!" Johnny's chest heaved as he spoke, and although Althea was partially focused on finishing the rest of the whiskey, she couldn't keep her eyes from him. There was a passion in his words that he expressed with his body, and something about what he told her, or the way he said it, forced all the courage she had pent up in her body to come spouting out. With the bottle still in her left hand, Althea reached up, wrapped her left arm over Johnny's shoulder, and placed his neck in the crook of her elbow before she leaned forward to meet his lips. For some reason she expected them to be rough, but as she placed her lips to his, she felt comforted and welcomed by their soft embrace. Slowly, she tugged against his shirt as she leaned back in an attempt to signal him to follow. Johnny listened to her movements and placed his hands on either side of Althea's shoulders as he leaned over and felt her legs wrap around his waist. He wanted to see how far he could push this, but the same feeling of uncertainty that kept him from striking first was back and left an embarrassing hole in his heart. She doesn't want you. She's just drunk and you're just here. She could have anyone, why would she want you?

Althea's eyes flicked open the second she felt Johnny's lips leave hers and his hands attempt to push her legs off of him. "Shit," she muttered and quickly hid her face. "I misread this, didn't I?"

"You're drunk, Althea; I'm not going to take advantage of you like that." Had the man he had been three years ago heard him just now, he would have punched himself. Getting drunk and finding drunk chicks to hook up with was who he was back then; maybe she was right, maybe he wasn't such a piece of shit. "I don't want to hurt you or have you wake up tomorrow thinking some asshole took advantage of you."

As Althea lay beneath Johnny, her arms stretched out over her head in the sand, her feet now on the ground, and knees positioned on either side of his torso, she took a deep breath and stared up into his baby blue eyes. "I'm not going to pretend like I'm the most sober person in the world right now, but you told me to be selfish—to take what I want before life starts taking things from me, so that's what I did." With a hesitant breath escaping her lungs, she added, "if I crossed a line, I'm sorry, I just thought—"

"Are you sure?" Johnny's voice echoed out over hers as he stared down into those damned eyes of hers.

"Am I sure of what?" she asked with a rather confused look on her face. How could she be any more blatant about her intentions? She told him she wanted him and apologized for crossing a line with him—if anything, in her mind, she was the one taking advantage of someone and should be apologizing.

"Are you sure you want to do this with me?" His voice faltered only for a moment, and he was certain Althea hadn't noticed, but the fact that his voice was getting caught in his throat and he kept second guessing whether or not a woman was into him made Johnny feel like that dorky, nerdy, loser he used to be who didn't believe he was worth anything. Why does it feel like this--like I don't know what I'm doing? Like I'm trying to tell her I'm a mistake?

"Why? You don't have something you haven't disclosed, do you?" Althea asked with an eyebrow raised up at Johnny.

"No!"

"Then why are you asking me if I'm sure about you?" Johnny stared down at her, baffled that she wasn't seeing the clear as day elephant that plagued the room.

"I'm not exactly close to your age," he said in a slow, hesitant manner. He tried to convince himself that surely this time she'd push him away and grumble about some old creep coming on to her, but instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, lifted her body off the ground and pressed it to his.

"If anything, that means you should really know what you're doing," she whispered against his ear and her hot breath against his neck caused his hair to stand on end. Johnny lowered himself to the ground until he felt her breasts press lightly into his chest. He lowered his forehead to hers and lightly pressed his lips against hers. For some reason, he expected the soft, delicate kiss she initiated to be the one he received, but he was met with a passion and lust as Althea's lips crashed against his. He quickly adjusted to her pace and gently grasped her bottom lip with his teeth. Instantly, she began to bite his upper lip, so he slipped his tongue between her teeth and began to explore her mouth. She tasted the same as he expected he did, like Jack Daniels, and it was refreshing. Slowly, he pulled his lips away from hers again, but this time he did so to admire her. His shadow moved away from her face and the moon quickly lit up her eyes and smile. "Are you that worried about the age thing?" she asked as she took a breath. Johnny was sure Althea wasn't trying to be as sultry as she was coming off as, but everything she did was just so enticing.

"You're just so beautiful," he softly said in response to her question before he leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on Althea's lips. Beautiful. The word hung in her mind and his voice repeated it in her head as her hands found their way up his shirt. She hadn't had anyone look into her eyes and tell her she was beautiful, she'd been called sexy and hot, but never beautiful. She'd had guys complain about dating her for so long without her putting out, but never had someone question whether she was sure she wanted to be with them. She'd often be forced to be on top, and was foreign to feeling the weight of a man on top of her. With Johnny laying on top of her, Althea could feel every breath he took, every movement he made, and his weight against her that pressed her into the sand made her feel safe. Even though she was fully clothed, if she were to be sitting on top of him and straddling his hips, she would have felt so exposed and vulnerable. Lying beneath him with his arms on either side of her, she felt protected. Suddenly, she felt Johnny shift his weight off of her and a chilly breeze caught her off guard.

"Hold on a second," he said as he stood up, "I'll be right back." As Johnny hurried back to his car, Althea could hear the steady rhythm of his feet being absorbed into the sand fade as he jogged away, and then crescendo on his return trip. Althea had sat up when he rolled off of her, concerned she had taken it too far again by sliding her hands under his shirt, but a small smile fell over her face when she noticed him return with a large blanket.

"Do you keep that handy for your beach hook ups?" she teased. It didn't matter to her if she wasn't the first woman he'd been with her or anywhere, but Johnny immediately corrected her with a very serious look on his face.

"I work late sometimes and fall asleep in my office, which is always freezing," he responded before he dropped down and resumed his position between Althea's legs. "I noticed you were cold, so I thought it would help," Johnny said as he pulled the blanket around his shoulders and let it drape over him as he leaned over Althea and pressed his body down into hers.

"Sorry about my hands," she said softly as she pulled them away from Johnny and held them against her hips.

"Don't be," he sighed as he gently took her arm and moved her hands back to his stomach. Her hands were freezing to the touch, but Johnny couldn't remember the last time a woman had touched him so selflessly. Even as Althea was trying to be selfish and take what she wanted, she was still so kind, and despite how her hands felt like ice against his skin, she was warm. Johnny cursed himself as he caught himself thinking too much into how he felt. That's not what you do with hook ups, Lawrence, he mentally growled at himself, but as her hands gently grazed his stomach and chest before the found their way to his shoulders, he leaned into her and how he felt being with her. Slowly, he pulled a hand from where it rested by Althea's face and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. As much as he wanted to see her body under the light of the moon, he didn't want to strip her down in a place that didn't have the privacy provided by a locking door. His fingers traced against her skin and he could feel small indentions of her abdomen. Fuck me, Johnny thought as he imagined what Althea looked like with abs. Just how athletic is she?

Althea took a deep breath as Johnny's hand found her breast, and she could feel him lightly trace where the lace of her bra met her skin. They're usually done by now, she thought as she remembered the majority of her previous sexual encounters. An ache ripped through Althea's stomach as she felt Johnny's fingers leave her breasts and slowly trace her skin along the hem of her pants. There was an anticipation that rattled her bones and seemed to shake her to her core as he found the button on the inside hem of her dress pants and then tugged the zipper down. Johnny's knuckles grazed the lace on her underwear as Althea shifted her pants slightly lower down her legs, and a lump rose in his throat as he tried to focus on what he was doing. As he gently maneuvered his hand between their bodies and along the lace underwear she wore, Johnny could feel Althea's body lightly shake beneath him and he realized she really did want him.

Johnny's core seized up the second he felt her palm him over his pants, so he shifted his lower body away from her reach and shook his head lightly. "Be selfish," he said softly before he pushed her underwear to the side and slipped two fingers inside of her to wet them. She let out a soft groan the second he entered her and then sighed when he pulled away. Slowly, he leaned over and kissed her again as his index finger swirled around on her clit. It was a slow, agonizing motion that Althea took as him teasing her, but as he continued, she became weaker and weaker to his touch. Slowly, he quickened his pace and altered between pleasing Althea internally and externally, with each sound from her mouth and each expression on her face driving him more and more insane.

Althea tried to be selfish, she tried not to touch Johnny when he was within reach, and so she leaned back and enjoyed what he did to her. She allowed her stomach to tighten and her legs to shake; she allowed herself to be selfish and be the only one that was pleasured, but the thought crossed her mind that she could be selfish with him. With Johnny still hovering slightly above her, Althea unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and pulled him from his underwear. He tried to protest, but she had already pushed his hand aside, placed his cock at her entrance, and bucked her hips up so that she was wrapped completely around him without him even having to thrust. There was no arguing with her, she was ready for him and she was taking him.

Next Chapter

[theroyalmile]

Body by Chemo

Last weekend I went for a 9-mile bike ride to downtown Boston and back.  I was admittedly nervous and skeptical about this ride beforehand for a couple of reasons.  First, it has been years since I rode a bike, and I know there’s that whole expression “It’s like riding a bike” but I’m not sure that expression is all that accurate.  Second, I have never ridden a bike in Boston.  Third, I get winded these days going up and down my stairs, so I was not sure I quite “had it in me.”  But, my whole household was going, it was a beautiful day, and I had been promising myself I would make an effort to be more active.  So off we went.  Oh, and there was a promise of breakfast sandwiches and coffee and donuts once we made it downtown- nobody could say no to that.

The beginning of the ride was rocky.  The original bike I borrowed was just a little too tall for me, and because of that I felt incredibly unsteady.  I traded bikes with one of my roommates and that bike ended up being a better fit for me- a few loops around a parking lot and I thought, “Hey, it really is like riding a bike.” With my confidence reasserted, we hit the bike path.  

The bike ride was, overall, beautiful.  I did find myself getting winded and had to stop a couple of times.  My roommates had been prepared to take it easy with me, and were very supportive.  Eventually we made it the 4.5 miles downtown and I felt so incredibly proud for conquering my first time back on a bike and first time biking downtown, all while dealing with the fatigue, shortness of breath and other goodies that come with my chemo treatment.  I felt empowered and heartened, which made me feel optimistic about the ride back home.

That optimism was short lived; almost immediately after we took off it became apparent that my body simply could not handle it.  I told myself we just had to get out of downtown and back on the bike trail and then I would ask to stop.  We made it and I signaled everyone for a quick break.  I thought maybe if I caught my breath and had some water it would be okay.  One of our bike squad members offered for me to try their bike to see if that made a difference.  I hopped on bikes a block or so, and then hopped off almost immediately- it just wasn’t going to work.  As I hopped off, right after we had crossed an intersection, I heard two men yelling from a car about some girl having a fat ass, or something to that effect.  Regardless of whether they were talking about me or someone else who had crossed the street with us, that was the final kick for me.  Any experienced fat girl understands that you will always think those comments are about you, even when they are not.  (Disclaimer: I do not mean “fat” as something negative, and I am definitely not looking for people to tell me I’m not fat, I’m simply stating a fact about my body).  Anyways, it was at this point I felt the tears of frustration welling up and knew my ride was done.  I told the crew I couldn’t go any further and would walk while they biked on.

There is a certain trauma that comes with being fat and exercising.  It’s almost like you never want someone to see you fail at any kind of physical activity because it feels like you're reinforcing the stereotype, like, oh of course the fat girl can’t finish the bike ride.  My roommate had offered, very kindly, to come back and pick me up in the car.  That was an indignancy I couldn’t bear- it was one thing to fail to finish the ride; it was another to have to be driven home.  No, I said stubbornly, I would walk my bike home.  Caleb of course insisted on walking his bike with me.  

As we walked our bikes I became more and more upset.  Part of it was the embarrassment of being a fat girl walking a bike home.  I almost want to scream at passers by “It’s not because I’m fat- I have cancer!” But another, bigger part of it was the reality of admitting to myself that chemo had changed my body, and it simply wasn’t up to the tasks it might normally have been.  Eventually I became upset enough that I had to stop and let myself have a small breakdown.  Caleb hugged me while I cried and tried to keep me in perspective. “You’re going through chemo” he reminded me, and tried to help me realize that having made it as far as I had was a feat in itself.  He walked across the street to grab me tissues and a gatorade so I could cry, rehydrate, cry, and rehydrate some more. 

****

Here’s the thing about chemo- it has made me feel incredibly betrayed by my body.  I have always been overweight, since my teenage years or even earlier.  Different versions of overweight, but overweight.  That was just the way it was, and I had reached a certain level of acceptance of that.  But I had always prided myself on how active I could be.  Pre-pandemic I could run 4-5 miles no problem.  I would hit the gym three times a week, I would get the steps in.  I was still fat, I was active, and I felt good about myself.  

Because of chemo, I am now fat, inactive, and feel terrible all the time.  I get winded walking up stairs, I am exhausted by my five minute walk from the T to my office downtown, and I find a short walk will tire me out for an afternoon.  And it’s not just my stamina.  It is absolutely everything.

The skin around my mouth had begun peeling and reddening.  My cuticles are dry and peeling and hurt.  My hands and feet are dry and cracked.  My arms are bruised up and down from frequent IVs. I oftentimes cannot open my medicine bottles or jars without help.  My hair, of course, is completely gone, not just on my head, but my nostrils too, leaving me with an almost constant runny nose.  My eyebrows are thinning, along with my eyelashes, and I pray to whoever is listening to please not take those away from me too.  My hands shake, and have turned dark brown from the cytoxan (which thankfully I am done with).  My memory is terrible.  I am breaking out like I’m back and middle school. My joints hurt, my muscles ache, despite me doing nothing all day. AND I get hot flashes now! Oh and I am hungry all the time.  Honestly ALL THE TIME.  

Here’s the thing- my body and I have been in a constant battle since I was 12 years old.  It took me 10-15 years to learn to love my body for what it was, with the understanding I was never going to have the same body as my friends, was never going to fit their clothes, and was never going to be the traditional idea of “in shape.”  But we had come to truce, my body and I.  I had found acceptance, and even joy in my body.  I had even got to a point where I wore a bikini for the first time since I was a child the summer before the pandemic and it felt amazing, liberating.  I followed plus size models like Ashley Graham and Tess Holiday on Instagram and thought heck yeah, if they can do it so can I.  

My cancer treatment has taken the pride I had in my body and the control I had over my activity levels and appearance and destroyed every last piece of it.  When I was having my worst struggles with my body in college, therapists used to ask me to list my favorite things about my appearance.  My top two on that list were always the same: 1) My hair and 2) My boobs.  Well, cancer has taken one of those things from me already and will have taken the other by the end of this summer.  Like I said, my body has betrayed me now in more ways that I can count.  And that betrayal is likely not going to end for a long time.  Honestly not until there is no cancer in my body any more.  Because let’s be real- that’s the biggest betrayal of all.

Whenever I catch myself in the mirror these days it has the potential to ruin my whole day.  There are few outfits that make me feel comfortable and attractive.  My face feels round, rounder without hair to frame it. I try not to look too long, lest I find more things to hate.  I am terrified of upcoming social gatherings, and wonder how on earth will I be able to feel remotely happy about my appearance for them.  

Chemo has reshaped my body in so many ways, some that I am only starting to realize.  It is hard, fitting into this new body and becoming accustomed to it.  It is even harder learning to love it.  Indescribably hard.  I think I can get there but sometimes it’s difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Moments like the complete few minutes of despair I felt during our bike ride sometimes make that light seem even further.  But it’s important to remember those moments are often fleeting, and can change with a little perspective.  

****

After I cried it out on the bike path, I checked the time and realized we really needed to start heading home.  Caleb had a vaccine appointment to make and I was an hour away from committing murder of some poor bystander out of sheer frustration.  I looked on Google maps and found the walk home would be 48 minutes, probably more pushing a bike and with my sad little chemo lungs.  The bike ride home? 12 minutes.  So back on the bike I went, and it took every muscle in my body to pedal that 12 minutes home.  Fueled by my anger and embarrassment, and the residual tears, we eventually made it all the way home.  

I originally found little pride and satisfaction in our trip.  All I could think about was how I couldn’t bike the whole thing, and about how those guys in the car had yelled, and how much I hated my biking outfit, and how defeated and mortified I was feeling.  

Sometimes perspective takes time, but eventually I found some.  I owe a lot of the perspective to Caleb’s support and encouragement both during and after the bike ride, and to my parents pride and excitement as I was telling them about my biking adventure.  I also owe a lot of it to a nap, a much needed shower, and a new day.  With perspective I rediscovered some of that pride I had lost.  Nine miles there and back?  I did that shit.  And yeah, maybe I didn’t bike the whole thing, but I sure as hell did the whole thing, and did the whole thing while in the midst of chemotherapy treatment.  While in the midst of poisoning my body beyond recognition.  I am a freaking badass. 

And what did I do that evening?  Ate my body weight in sushi because I wanted to.  

I know there are going to be a lot more ups and downs like this.  That bike ride was filled with some very high highs and some very low lows.  This is going to happen.  And while I don’t know exactly what to expect from my body in the months to come, I do know that whatever happens I’ll see y’all at the beach in July- I’ll be the fat girl with the bald head in a bikini eating an ice cream cone.

[rpf-bat]

For What You’ve Done (They’re Gonna Find A Place For You)

Pairing: Mikey Way x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 9. Prompt: “My Demons.”

You’re in a rehab clinic in Bergen County, New Jersey, trying your best to fight your inner demons, and get sober. One day, a new patient enters the twelve-step program. You’re shocked to discover, that it’s none other than your first celebrity crush. 

Trigger warning for several mentions of substance abuse. 

You’d been a resident at the inpatient clinic for about two months now. It was the longest stretch of time, that you’d been sober, in years. You weren’t sure yet, if you liked it or not. But, at least the facility, gave you a decent amount of freedom. You were allowed to roam the grounds during the day, as much as you liked - as long as you showed up to all your therapy meetings, when you were supposed to. 

You still felt bored. It sucked, not being able to leave the premises, and go anywhere. You decided to relieve your restlessness, by heading out into the garden, for a cigarette. 

A lot of the patients smoked. One you got rid of one addiction, sometimes, you just had to replace it with another.  You knew, of course, that nicotine was bad for you. But, railing cocaine was significantly worse. You figured the medical staff on site had decided to pick their battles.

“Hey, Y/N,” called a voice from the bench by the roses. “You got a light?”

You turned, and saw it was one of the girls from your therapy group, Lacey. 

“Hey,” you greeted her, and handed your lighter to her. 

“Thanks,” she grinned, and lit the cig she was holding. “Did you hear the news?” 

“What news?” you asked, taking a drag on your own cancer stick. 

“A new guy is gonna be joining us in group today,” Lacey explained. “Heard he just got here, last night.” 

“Oh, yeah?” you raised an eyebrow, exhaling smoke. The first day, you were more than aware, was often the hardest. 

“I think his name’s Michael, or something,” Lacey shrugged. “I got a look at him, when they were escorting him to his room. He’s cute.” 

“I didn’t come here, to get a date,” you scoffed. 

“Way I heard it, you didn’t come here willingly at all,” Lacey snickered. “Wasn’t your mom gonna kick you out of her house, if you didn’t agree to get treatment?” 

“....You know what, I think that’s enough smoking for today,” you snapped, snatching your lighter, back out of her hands. 

“Hey!” Lacey protested. 

“Whatever.” You stomped out your cigarette butt into the dirt, with perhaps more force than necessary. “I’m going back inside…..” 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Your watch told you it was 3:45. Group therapy wasn't supposed to start until four o’clock. You wandered into the meeting room anyway. You didn’t feel like going back to your room, and you had nothing better to do.

To your surprise, you found a man sitting in one of the chairs, a Dodgers cap pulled down over his eyes. 

“Hey,” you called, “what are you doing in here? Taking a nap?”

The guy sat up suddenly, as if dazed. 

Oh, shit, you realized. He really was sleeping. 

“You must be the new guy,” you laughed. “Hey - it’s okay. I didn’t get much sleep during my first night here, either. The beds here are hard as rocks.” 

“They…..they really are,” the man confessed. “Sorry - I didn’t mean to pass out in here.  The room was just so quiet and empty, y’know?”

He straightened and took off his hat, revealing his face. You gasped, when you realized you recognized him. 

“You’re....you’re Mikey Way,” you bleated. Holy shit. 

“....Do I know you?” Mikey asked, rubbing his eyes. 

“No,” you shook your head, reddening. “I, uh, I was just a big My Chemical Romance fan, when I was younger. I think your music is amazing.”

“....Oh,” Mikey mumbled. “Sorry….I’m not exactly giving out autographs right now.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask for one,” you assured him. “I mean, I always wanted to meet you, but…..not in a place like this.” 

Mikey stared at his shoes, looking ashamed of himself. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“....You probably thought of me as like, some cool rock hero,” Mikey mumbled. “Now, as you can see, I’m just some piece of shit junkie.” 

“I mean…..so am I?” you pointed out. “That’s why we’re both here.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Mikey frowned. He tugged his sleeves down, clearly trying to hide the tire tracks on his arms. You couldn’t pretend that it didn’t hurt a little, to see him in this state. You’d had a crush on him, since you were fifteen. 

“But, you’re trying to get clean,” you said softly. “You’re here, trying to fight your demons, and become a better person. That definitely counts for something, in my book.”

Mikey raised his head, looking at you in surprise. He had such pretty eyes. 

“.....Thank you,” he said sincerely. “That means a lot.” 

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you smiled, extending your hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Mikey smiled back, accepting the handshake. 

“Do you mind if I sit here with you, until everyone else gets here?” you asked. You knew Lacey would probably show up soon, but the former emo kid in you, was delighted at the chance to talk to a Way brother one-on-one. 

“Sure, pull up a chair,” Mikey shrugged. “I wasn’t doing much, anyway, aside from catching a few Zs.” 

“Sorry again, for waking you,” you winced. You didn’t want to make his first day more difficult. 

“It’s okay,” Mikey replied. “I was wondering….what do you guys normally talk about, in these therapy groups, anyway?” 

“Well, yesterday,” you recalled, “Dr. Armstrong asked us to name a positive coping mechanism, that we could use to deal with our problems, instead of turning to...y’know, substances.” 

“What coping mechanism did you come up with?” Mikey asked. 

You hesitated, your face going red. 

“Sorry,” Mikey frowned. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I mean, you just met me today.” 

“No, it’s okay,” you shrugged. “I already told the whole group, after all.” 

“Oh, right,” Mikey chuckled. 

“The coping mechanism that I wrote down on my therapy worksheet, was music,” you explained. “When I first got here, I got permission for my mom to bring me some of my old CDs. Dr. Armstrong lets me keep a stereo in my room, as long as I promise not to use it after lights-out. I started listening to albums that I hadn’t heard, since I was a teenager.” 

“Since before you started doing….substances?” Mikey guessed. 

“Yeah,” you confessed. “Listening to some of these heavy songs, was actually really cathartic. Singing along to the lyrics, helps me get my feelings out, instead of just…..burying them.” 

“I’ll be honest,” Mikey sighed. “I use substances to bury my feelings a lot, too. That’s exactly how I got in this mess.” 

“I get it,” you nodded. You never thought that your idol would be struggling with all the same stuff that you did. When you’d seen him on the World Contamination Tour, three years ago, he had looked invincible. You realized, darkly, that even then, he could have been shooting up backstage. 

“What album have you been listening to the most, since you started getting sober?” Mikey asked curiously. “Like, what’s really therapeutic for you?” 

You looked away from him, feeling embarrassed. 

“......Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge,” you mumbled. 

“Whoa, seriously?” Mikey gaped. “My band’s album?” 

“Yeah,” you admitted shyly. “Is that weird? I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s not weird,” Mikey assured you. “That actually makes me really happy, that something I had a hand in creating, was able to help you so much.”

“Thank you,” you said, somewhat emotionally, “for putting that record into the world.” 

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” Mikey smiled. “It sounds strange, but….I’m kinda glad that I met you here.” 

“I’m glad, too,” you agreed. “But….I’m sorry that you’re in this situation.” 

“My friend David, kind of tricked me into coming here,” Mikey confessed, scratching his head. “He said he wanted to work on writing music with me, so I flew here, from California. But, when I got here, he was just like, yeah, we’re not making an album, you’re going to rehab.” 

“Did that make you mad?” you wondered. “Were you really angry at your friend, for dragging you to New Jersey, under false pretenses?” 

“No, I wasn’t mad at all,” Mikey said, surprising you. “Deep down, I knew that what I was doing to myself was wrong. I knew it was gonna get me killed, eventually, if somebody didn’t intervene. So….I just checked myself in, without arguing. I’m actually really grateful to him.” 

“Grateful…,” you repeated. “When my mom first checked me into this place, I wasn’t grateful at all. I felt like I was being thrown in jail. I didn’t think I had a problem.” 

“But, now you do?” Mikey realized. 

“Yeah, therapy helped me realize how much I was using the coke as a crutch,” you admitted. “I just wanted to party all the time, to distract myself. I didn’t want to be sober, ever, because that meant focusing on all the problems I had in life.” 

“I’m worried I’m gonna come off like a jackass, in the therapy group,” Mikey frowned. “Like, oh, you’re a millionaire celebrity. You don’t have any real problems in life.”

“Everybody has problems, in one way or another,” you disagreed. “Didn’t your band break up, last year? That must have been hard for you.”

“It was,” Mikey said honestly. “Being My Chem’s bassist, was like my whole identity. I had been doing it for over a decade. So, when my brother decided that the band was over with, it was like, I don’t know. I didn’t know who I was anymore.” 

“Of course that would be hard to cope with,” you said sympathetically. “Look, your problems might be very different from mine, but, if anyone in group tries to tell you they’re not valid, I’ll set ‘em straight.” 

“Thank you,” Mikey smiled softly. “I’m glad that I have at least one friend here.”

Mikey Way called me his friend, you thought, giddily. This was so surreal. If you weren’t nine weeks sober, you would have thought that you were tripping.

“What’s your positive coping mechanism gonna be, though?” you wondered, imagining what Dr. Armstrong would say to him, once the meeting started. “I mean, you can’t use the record you wrote.”

“Mine might be music, too,” Mikey said thoughtfully. “But, not listening to it - I want to get my feelings out, by writing songs.” 

“That’s a great idea!” you grinned. 

“David and I actually composed a couple really cool demos, before I started to take a turn for the worse,” Mikey explained. “When I get out of here, I want to finish an album with him, for real.” 

“What are you going to call the project?” you asked. 

“We were thinking of calling the new band, Electric Century,” Mikey smiled. 

“That’s a really cool name,” you complimented him. “If you get clean, and are able to go back out into the real world, and make the album a reality….then, I promise, when I get released, the first thing I’ll do,  is go buy a copy.” 

“You mean it?” Mikey asked, flattered. 

“Pinky swear!” you insisted. You held out your hand. 

“Ok, it’s a pinky promise,” Mikey laughed. “I’ll stay sober long enough to make the music, if you stay sober, long enough to hear it.” 

He reached out, and linked his pinky finger, with yours. You felt a spark, when your fingers touched. You thought that perhaps, you were exactly where you were supposed to be after all.

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

2020 Can Take My Hair, But Not My Hope

My hair started falling out on election night.

I thought at first it might be the anxiety, that I was literally pulling my hair out with worry over numbers I already knew were not going to be definitive before the night wore into morning but which I stayed up until 3:30am watching anyway. I tweeted rapidly, reassuring my jittery timeline that not only had we all known that the night would bring no results but that we had even expected Trump to lead in key states because of the greater number of mail-in ballots from urban areas that would largely count for Biden. We knew. We all knew. But we were all terrified, flashing back to 2016 and already dreading another four years of living life on high alert, in constant survival mode.

I posted a selfie with a tweet that read, "Could be the last presidential election I vote in (blah blah stage 4 cancer blah blah) and I wish it were better and clearer than this but it's a crucial privilege to have voted. Remember, whatever the outcome, the last thing they can take from you is your hope."

To me that last sentence has been a mantra for these years and for my treatment. I have consistently refused, despite overwhelmingly terrible odds, to lose hope. The story of Pandora's Box tells us that the very last thing left inside was Hope--that even once all the demons were out in the world there was that tiny, feathered creature left to hang on to. It hasn't been easy, but I am one of the most stubborn people you will ever meet (and if you doubt this just ask anyone who's ever fought me on anything!) and it has turned out to be a saving grace rather than an irritating personality trait. Feeling like the world was trying to take my hope away made me angry. And when I get angry I will fight back.

I know I'm not alone in feeling like we entered some kind of alternate nightmare timeline on election night 2016. To that point, despite periods of immense personal difficulty, nothing truly terrible had happened to me. Then, in short order, my marriage ended and I was diagnosed with and began being treated for a terminal illness, all against the backdrop of a regime so deliberately hateful that it was truly incomprehensible to me. Then, a global pandemic and national crisis swept away the small consolations I'd found in my new life with cancer. The temptation to feel hopeless was strong and I struggled with it, particularly in the isolation of quarantine. I'm struggling with it now, facing a winter of further lockdowns, social isolation, continued chemo, and the added indignity (and chilliness!) of not having any hair. But somehow the coincidence of my hair loss with election night seemed like a good omen for the future, if a sad thing for the present.

I heard the news that they had called Pennsylvania for Biden at a peaceful Airbnb in the Catskills after stepping out of a shower where lost hair in handfuls. It felt oddly like a sacrifice I had made personally. I joked about this with friends on the text chains that lit up and that (despite my promise to myself and my writing partner that we'd "go off the grid") I responded to immediately. Instant replies, with emojis and GIFs, participated in the fiction: "Thank you for your service!!!"; "We ALL appreciate your sacrifice!"; "Who among us would NOT give up their hair for no more Trump?". The feeling was real for me, though. It was as though the good news demanded some kind of karmic offering. You never get something for nothing, I thought, and really it was a small price to pay.

The rest of the weekend passed too quickly, with absorption in the novel I plan (madly, given that I also work full-time) to work on for "National Novel Writing Month" (NaNoWriMo), walks in the unseasonably warm woods, and nighttime drinks on the back deck under the stars, watching my hair blow off in fine strands and drift through the sodium porch light. My friend and I read tarot and both our layouts contained The Tower, the card for new beginnings from total annihilation, the moment of destruction in which (as the novel's title says) everything is illuminated. "This might sound dumb," he said, "but maybe yours is about your hair." It did not sound dumb.

[shaved heads, the 2020 election, and a couple pics under the cut]

There is probably no more iconic visual shorthand for cancer than hair loss. It happens because chemo agents target fast-proliferating cells, which tend to inhabit things that grow rapidly by nature (hair, fingernails), or that we need to replenish often (cells in the gut), as well as out-of-control cancer cells. But not all cancer treatments, not even all chemotherapies, cause hair loss. In my 20 months of being treated for cancer and my three previous treatments (four, if you count the surgery I had) nothing had yet affected my hair beyond a bit of thinning. This despite the fact that my first-ever treatment (Taxol) was widely known to cause hair loss for "everyone." I had been fortunate with this particular side effect in a narrow way that I have absolutely not been on a broader scale. "Maybe," I had let myself think, "I can have this one thing." The odds were in my favor too; only 38% of people in clinical trials being treated with Saci lost their hair. I liked the odds of being in the 62% who didn't. But--as we all felt deep in our gut while they counted votes in battleground states--odds aren't everything.

I had come to treat the "strength" of my hair as a kind of relative consolation (though as with everything cancer "strength," "weakness," and the rhetoric of battle have nothing to do with outcomes). I treasured still having it, not just out of vanity (though I have always loved my hair whatever length, style, or color it has been) but because it allowed me to pass among regular people as one of them. I had no visible markers of the illness that is killing me, concealed as first the tumor and then the scars were by my clothing. "You look wonderful," people would tell me, even when I suffered from stress fractures from nothing more than running or sneezing; muscle spasms in my shoulder and nerve death in my fingertips; nausea that I swallowed with swigs from my water bottle that just made me look all the more like a hydration-conscious athlete; and profound, constant, and debilitating fatigue. Invisible illness had its own perils but I would take them--take all of them at once if necessary!--if only I could keep my hair and look normal.

It was not to be. A part of me had known this, since a lifetime with metastatic cancer means a lifetime of treatments a solid proportion of which result in hair loss. But I had hoped. And I had liked the odds.

The hardest thing for me is having to give up this particular consolation before knowing whether or not my new treatment is also working on my cancer. Unfortunately, there really isn't a correlation between side effects like hair loss and effectiveness of treatment. If it is working then I will feel that--like the election to which I felt I had karmically contributed--it was all completely worth it. Yet, even in this best case scenario, there's a new reality for me which is that while I am on this treatment I will stay bald. When you are a chronic patient you hope for a treatment that will work well with manageable side effects. And if this treatment works--and if the other side effects are as ok-ish as they are now--then I will remain on it.

It's that future that I am furious about more than anything else. I want to continue to live my life, of course, but I don't want to have to do it bald! In part that is because I don't want to register to people constantly as an archetypal "cancer patient" when I know that I am so much more. It is also in part because I don't want to think of myself as being ill, and living every day having to disguise my absent hair will make that all the tougher. I have already noticed that I feel, physically, as though I am sicker because of my constantly shedding hair. How could I not, in some ways, when every move I make and every glance at myself (including in endless Zoom windows) shows me this highly visible change?

For that reason, I'm shaving my remaining hair tomorrow (Wednesday). It's a way to feel less disempowered--less like hair loss is happening to me--and wrest control of the situation back. I will try to find agreeable things about it: wigs, scarves, cozy caps, bright lipstick, statement earrings, and a general punk/Mad Max vibe that is appropriate to 2020. But I don't want anyone to think for a second that I find this agreeable, or even acceptable, or that I don't mind. I mind a whole hell of a lot. My hair was my consolation prize, my camouflage, my vanity, my folly, and my battle cry.

I dyed it purple when I was first diagnosed because I knew (or thought I knew) that I would be losing it soon. I didn't, and I came to cherish it as a symbol of my boldness in the face of circumstances trying to oppress me, to make me shrink, to tempt me to become invisible. I refused and used it to "shout" all the louder in response. Because of what it came to mean to me, I'm nearly as sad about losing the purple as I am about losing the hair itself. It both symbolized the weight I was carrying and also that I would not let that weight grind me down. It was my act of resistance and my sign resilience all at once.

I sent a text to my friends, explaining this and offering, as an idea, that I could "pass the purple" to them in some way, small or large. It would feel more like handing off a torch or a weight (or the One Ring) than anyone shaving their head in solidarity. (After all, if they did that it would just remind me as I watched theirs grow back that, in fact, our positions were very different.) You're welcome to do it if you'd like too, internet friends, with temporary or permanent dye or a wig or a headband or one of those terrible 90s hairwraps or whatever. But I don't require that anyone do it because I feel support from you all in myriad ways, all the time. (But if you do, please send me pictures!)

It's November 2020. The election is over and Joe Biden has won. I still have cancer and I'll be bald tomorrow. I hope it's a turning point, both personal and global, because it feels like one. We've given up a lot in the last four years and I cannot say that I feel in any way peaceful or accepting about having to give up yet one more thing. But in losing my hair I absolutely refuse to also give up my hope.

(On our walk we did also seem to find a version of The Tower, all that was left of an abandoned house)

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES: New Year’s Day January 1st, Friday

Trigger warning: mentions of self harm and suicide.

song credit:

marjorie- taylor swift

CHAPTER THREE:  glitter on the floor after the party

Mikasa stood there, absolutely dumbfounded.

Had Eren really just walked away from her again?

The door opened again.

An unmasked Zeke Jaeger stepped back out and sighed.

“Fucking idiot,” he muttered under his breath as he lit a cigarette.

Mikasa looked over at him.

She knew he was right.

She was an idiot.

As if he was reading her mind, Zeke spoke again.

“Him, not you.” He took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around Mikasa’s shoulders.

“Why are you being so nice to me? If it’s out of pity…”

Zeke laughed, “It is not you, I pity. It is him. Eren. He is a fucking idiot. I cannot blame him though. I understand it. My father kept my mom and I a secret, that was bad. What he did to Eren, that was worse.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “Not my place to tell you or I would.”

What could she even say to that?

Eren didn’t want to tell her, he didn’t want to let her in.

Instead he had left her...twice. She didn’t know what she would do if he left a third time.

“Didn’t your dad die of lung cancer?” She asked.

She knew he had.

She had been at his funeral, holding Eren’s hand as Grisha was buried in the ground.

Zeke couldn’t help but laugh, “yeah, he did. Fucker deserved worse.” He stomped on the cigarette before turning to go inside. “Do not stay out here too long. Do not want you getting sick. I should find out where Eren wandered off to.”

She began to remove his jacket.

Zeke held up a hand. “Keep it. It’s Eren’s anyway.”

The door swung open to reveal four very angry women and a very angry Armin.

“I’ll take out his knee caps. Annie, you tackle him and take him down,” Ymir called out.

“I feel awful. I really had no idea Niccolo was in a band with Eren…” Sasha sobbed.

Everyone froze when they saw Zeke and Mikasa.

“Hello,” Zeke said with the tiniest of waves.

“Zeke?” Armin questioned.

“Hello, Armin. Mikasa probably needs you all right now. I have to find out where my brother wandered off to this time.”

“Well then you can take Annie and me right to him. Today is the day he loses those kneecaps!” Ymir cracked her knuckles.

Zeke just laughed, “Eren deserves it, there is no doubt, but as his brother, I must protect him. He only began to walk again..”

Everyone’s eyes began to widen as Zeke realized what he had said.

“Fuck! I shouldn’t have said that," Zeke remarked.

Mikasa felt as if she was lost at sea, she was drowning.

Her eyes began to fill with tears.

Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

Eren hadn’t been able to walk?

What was wrong with him?

She couldn’t breathe.

“Zeke, what is wrong with Eren?” Armin spoke up.

“Mentally or physically?”

“Both,” Historia whispered.

Zeke ran his hand through his hair before he lit up another cigarette. “He is going to kill me for even saying that much...I suppose there is no problem with telling you what is already common knowledge.”

“We already know he’s bipolar. I found the band’s website on Instagram,” Annie said as she walked towards Mikasa. She took her hand, slowly pulling her in front of the girls. Sasha took Mikasa's other hand and rested her head on Mikasa’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Mika,” Sasha whispered.

“It’s okay,” Mikasa replied.

They all turned their attention back to Zeke who seemed to be observing them all with great c uriosity.

“Then you already saw that his liver went bad too. I cannot tell you much else. There are other things wrong with Eren but like your loyalty to Mikasa, my loyalty is to my brother. He may be an asshole but he is my family. My only family. I do not ask you to understand or even forgive him. I think he is acting like an idiot,” Zeke paused to take a drag of his cigarette. “ While he is my only family, I was not his. I do not agree with him leaving his other family because things got hard. He is acting like our father by doing that.”

“Is he going to die?” Mikasa’s voice cracked.

“We’re all going to die but no. Not anytime soon. The treatment of his liver was successful. I should really go find him and you all should get out of the cold. Goodnight, ladies and Armin.”

And with that, Zeke Jaeger disappeared into the night to find his brother.

No one moved to go inside. They all looked to Mikasa for what they should do next.

“I’m tired,” she whispered.

“Let’s go back to the hotel then. Limo is out front already. I thought we’d need a getaway car,” Historia laughed.

Mikasa’s eyes were still filled with tears, her heart was still racing, and it was hard to breathe.

But she wasn’t drowning or lost at sea anymore.

No, she was safe.

She couldn’t help but feel bad for Eren.

She had once been his anchor but now, he had no one. So she began to cry.

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

Zeke didn’t have to go very far to find Eren. He was sitting in the passenger seat of the van they had rented to move the equipment. Zeke walked around the driver’s side and opened the door.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” Zeke asked as he climbed into the car.

Eren said nothing.

“Should I schedule you for a session?” Zeke asked.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

No, Eren wasn’t sure.

He felt more broken than he had when the night had started.

He hadn’t expected to see her here. The last he had heard, she had moved away to pursue her dreams with her new band.

Eren was not ready for this. He had thought he had been when he had sent her the letter.

But how wrong he had been.

“Am I sure I’ll be fine? No. I just want to go home and go to sleep. Is that okay?” Eren answered as he clicked his seatbelt into place.

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

Why had they all slept on the floor of their suite when there three bedrooms each with two beds attached?

Well it was simple.

No one wanted to leave Mikasa alone. Mikasa was very grateful for her friends.

After stopping for breakfast, they all went back to the Ackerman house.

“I’m sorry, Mikasa,” Sasha apologized again.

“Sasha, really. It’s not your fault. Go be with your family. Isn’t Connie coming over so you, Jean, and him can watch movies? I promise. I’m not mad.” Mikasa hugged her friend tightly so she knew they were okay.

Annie and Armin were awkwardly standing by Annie’s car while Ymir and Historia were standing by the limo.

“You guys can go too. I’m fine. Levi is here. Hange is here. Besides, there’s something I have to do today.”

Armin gave her a look.

He knew exactly where she was going.

She nodded.

Ymir, Historia, and Annie look at each other.

“Text us if you need us,” Armin said before he got into Annie’s car.

The other three followed his lead.

As she opened the front door, two furry creatures moved in for the attack. They began to bark and run around her legs.

“Ahh!” She screamed as she shut the door behind her and dropped her bag.

“Sawney! Bean!” Hange yelled as the dogs continued to run laps around Mikasa’s legs.

“Puppies?” Mikasa was very confused at the moment.

“Levi’s. Late Christmas gift. His therapist said that a pet would be good for him. I found these guys. They’re corgis! Look at their little legs!”

The two potato size golden furred creatures jumped up trying to get Mikasa’s attention.

“They’re extremely smart! They can herd cattle with those tiny legs!” Hange picked up one of the puppies and handed it to Mikasa. The puppy began licking her face.

“Tiny legs...sounds like someone else I know…” She muttered as she petted the corgi.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Those jokes never get old, brat,” Levi remarked as he walked into the room holding two flower bouquets. “Sure you don’t want me to come?”

Mikasa sat the puppy down on the floor and took the flowers from Levi.

“No, I’ll be fine. Keys?”

Levi handed her the keys.

“I’ll be back soon.”

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

The graveyard was always empty on New Year’s Day which was why Mikasa always made a stop here. She strolled through the headstones before coming to a stop. She gently placed one the flower bouquets on the grave.

“Hey, Mom. Hi, Dad.” She sat down in front of the grave. “I wrote 40 songs since I saw you last. Historia and I are really making good music together. I wish I had her voice though. She can hit those high notes and my voice just can’t. Levi said you were the same way, Mom. Your voice was lower when you sang. He said when you’d come over, you'd go play the piano and just sing. Even though it was Dad’s family…..it didn’t matter. You just came in and made it yours too….” She could feel the tears rolling down her face.

“He let the piano get out of tune. Hange bought him two puppies. They’re corgis. He thinks I don’t know how hard he’s struggling. He wants me to live my own life but some days, I just wish he’d admit it. He’s too proud.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Ymir and Historia are having problems. I hope they figure it out. I know they're meant to be together. Armin and I made up. I missed him. He wasn’t really to blame anyway. Eren’s bad off...I saw him. He’s not...I don’t know. I don't know what is going on and I don’t know why I care. He’s still got your ring, Dad. He sent me the box back so I don’t know what’s in it. I’m afraid to open it. I….I just don’t know and I really need you, Mom. I need you to be here and be a mom. I can’t talk to Levi about this. I can’t talk to my friends because they hate Eren and I hate him too...at least that is what I tell myself.”

She began to cry harder, “I miss him. I really do but...what do I do?”

She fell silent as she allowed herself to cry. The ache in her chest from losing her parents was indescribable. She could have used a mother right now.

After she stopped crying, she stood up. “One more person to visit today. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Mikasa began her walk to the other side of the cemetery.

As she grew closer to the grave, she heard the soft music of an acoustic guitar playing.

Her heart leapt up into her throat.

It couldn’t be.

Fate could not be that cruel.

But it was.

She saw Carla’s grave and Eren sitting in front of it. His hair was pulled up into a bun. He didn’t look up or acknowledge her at all. She placed the flowers on Carla’s headstone before sitting down next to Eren.

The music was soothing.

She closed her eyes and just listened to him play. She hadn’t heard him play since his dad had died until last night. She remembered the hours he had put into learning the guitar, even more than she had put into learning piano. One day, he had played until his fingers bled, Carla had taken his guitar away. Carla had told Eren that he needed to learn balance. He couldn’t push himself that hard.

A lesson that Mikasa knew Eren still hadn’t learned yet.

She couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

As she continued to listen to each cord, she realized this was an entirely new song that she had never heard before. Had Eren written this on his own or was this something he had created with his band?

Every note began to swim around in her head. She could create lyrics from these notes. Lyrics about what? She remembered where she was but it was almost as if she could hear her parents and Carla speaking to her through the music.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” She sang quietly causing Eren to stop playing for a moment. She didn’t open her eyes, she didn’t want to ruin this moment.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” she sang again.

Eren resumed his playing.

It felt so comforting.

It was as if everything else melted away.

She opened her eyes, daring to look at Eren.

He held her gaze from a moment which allowed her to really see him.

There were dark circles underneath his eyes. It was clear he hadn’t had any sleep. He looked away from her.

She couldn’t help but become self conscious.

Should she leave? Had she intruded on a moment between mother and son?

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” Eren sang, making Mikasa realize truly how much she had missed his voice.

Sure, she had heard it the night before but this was different.

This felt private like it was  something only to be shared between them.

They had written songs together before, yes.

Nothing like this though.

Nothing so deeply personal.

When Eren stopped playing, Mikasa was pulled from her thoughts.

“See you later, Mom,” he said as he stood up and readjusted his guitar.

He looked down at Mikasa before offering her his hand.

She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

They began to walk together out to the parking lot.

Mikasa didn’t see Eren’s car in the parking lot.

“Zeke will be back in a couple hours,” Eren muttered as he looked down at the ground.

“I can take you home...to your home.” She looked up at him. He was staring at her. “Carla would kill both of us if I left you here in the cold for hours.”

“I’ve been through worse,” he muttered before he nodded.

The awkwardness between them was almost too much for Mikasa to handle.

She should have left him in the cold.

She should have never offered to take him home but she couldn’t leave him.

Even after all the horrible things he had said to her, done to her, she couldn’t just leave him here alone in a cemetery parking lot.

She unlocked Levi’s car and climbed in.

Eren hesitated for a moment before he got inside.

“I’m at the old house,” he told her before buckling his seatbelt.

Mikasa reversed the car and backed out of the space.

[huntertales]

Part Four: Top Of The Food Chain. (Dog Dean Afternoon S09E05)

Episode Summary: While investigating two bizarre murders, Y/N and the boys realize there is an eyewitness to both gruesome deaths–a German Shepard. Anxious to find out what monsters they are dealing with, the three look up a spell that can help communicate with the dog. When Dean decides to be the one to perform the spell, he quickly realizes it comes with side effects no one saw coming. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader  Word Count: 3,629.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

It’s sort of funny how things seem to work out on their own. Chef Leo presumed you and the other man who discovered you only moments later were the only ones here. It took almost no effort at all to drag you both back into the kitchen. You laid on the floor and your friend tied up somewhere in the corner where Leo could keep an eye on him whenever he decided to come back into consciousness. He decided to dispose of the man later. Right now all he cared about was carving you open like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Years of culinary training and working in the restaurant industry taught Leo how to get creative when it came to cooking unusual animal organs. Most of them weren't half bad if he was being honest with himself. Where the trouble came up was trying to find them. What Leo couldn't get in the local shelter or in the scraps of the taxidermist was bought on another source. The internet was a marvelous place to find even the rarest of animal organs he couldn't locally source. However what Leo was about to do was a step he thought he would never take after discovering what he did. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Human flesh wasn't something a sane individual thought about taking a bite of. The thought of it alone should be revolting. But there was a slight morbid curiosity as to what it really tasted like. He heard a few reports from cannibals over the years of what long pig tasted like to them. Every answer was different. Some thought it was similar to beef, others claimed it was exactly like pork. More suggested it was tough and close to veal. Leo was about to find out for himself when he carved your heart out of your chest. Whatever it was going to be, he could get past the taste if it meant he was able to possess the abilities you were capable of. Healing powers? It could solve his problems and more. He could live on. Maybe he could become immortal.

A shift in the smell caused Leo to momentarily stop sharpening his knife and pause. He sniffed a few times only to grimace at the unpleasant stench. "Why does it smell like dog in here?" He asked himself. Turning around, he found the source in another stranger trying to disrupt his plans and yet another loaded gun pointed in his direction. "That smell's coming from you." 

Dean pulled the trigger without thinking twice about it when he had the man in his range, but not taking into conversation what Chef Leo had taken prior. Cheetahs were the fastest animals in the world. The liver he ate was enough to give him the momentum to lean out of fire and grab a meat cleaver that was near him. All though his aim was off, it was enough of a startling distraction for Leo to get the upper hand when Dean was momentarily caught off guard. The gun Dean was holding only seconds ago was knocked out of his hand as he found himself stumbling to his knees after Leo was able to punch him. The man was moving faster than the hunter was able to keep up with.

Leo grabbed a cord he found lying around and grabbed it. He quickly placed it around Dean's neck and pinned him against the pillar, momentarily cutting off his air supply. “All dogs should be leashed.” He mocked the hunter. 

Dean struggled to overpower Leo when he took the cord off his neck and used it to lie his hands behind his back. The older Winchester was able to see his brother had landed himself in the same predicament. But a sense of panic washed over him when he saw that you were across the kitchen lying on your backside and not moving a single inch. For a moment he thought you might already be dead. He could smell the blood in the air, making him fear the worst. 

“What did you do to them?” Dean questioned the man. “What did you do to my brother?

"Your brother? Huh. There's nothing special about him that I could tell, at least. But your friend? I gotta ask, what were your parents smoking when they had you?" Leo asked the man, cracking a smile when Dean answered with a deathly glare. "They're fine. They're just taking a little cat nap before dinner. I've never had human heart before. Heard it's a bit chewy. Good job I'm not a fussy eater."

Dean found something off about the man when we got close enough to him, a smell lingered off that didn't seem right. While Leo got back up to his feet and to sharpen his knife again, the older WInchester told the man about something he might not have known yet. "You're sick."

Leo chuckled to himself at the observation, “Been told that once or twice.”

"No, no. Not in the head. Well, you are that, too." Dean agreed with that part, considering the steps Leo had done in order to gather his unusual ingredients. "But I mean sick like cancer."

"Well, I guess dogs really can sniff it out." Leo muttered to himself. He set down the knife back to the counter and turned around to face the man once more, knowing it was useless to hide his secret from the one person who could simply smell it on him. "Stage four carcinoma." 

"Huh. So that's what you're doing." Dean said. He watched as Leo walked over to a shelf and began inspecting ingredients that might pair well with a human heart. It didn't stop the hunter from pressuring further into the reason behind why the drastic desire to feast on animal organs for their abilities. "What happened? Draw the short straw, decide to break bad?"

"See, when I was diagnosed, I was way past standard treatment. No one could save me." Leo told the story about his discoveries you stumbled upon earlier tonight and the trick to beating cancer, even for a short time. Dean used the opportunity to try and cut through the wires by rubbing them up and down the corner of the wall as Leo continued to stand with his backside to the man. "But then with the help of a Pawnee shaman and a zoo membership, I found a cure, albeit a temporary one. Cancer always comes back."

"You start experimenting with different organs, huh?" Dean took a wild guess at how all of this played out and ended with him here. "Traded in the single serving for a combo platter."

"Well, what can I say? Combination therapy works." Leo said. "I felt stronger, and the effects lasted longer."

"And if you smoke a few innocent people in the process, well, hell, at least you felt better." Dean pretended to agree with the man about his selfish decisions that cost the lives of two people. 

"Well, I didn't mean to kill anyone—at first. But if people got in my way, they became collateral damage." Leo tried to sound innocent, until his own narcissism crept through into his tone at the power he held over others. He’d been too blinded by his own selfishness to stay alive; he dismissed the consequences that might be inflicted on others to get what he wanted. And in that newley large head of his, all of it was perfectly fine at the end of it all if it meant he got what he wanted. "Guess you eat enough predators, you start to become one. You are what you eat, right?”

Leo chuckled to himself at the corny joke and went back to prepping the ingredients. Dean worked faster to try and cut himself free before something bad happened. He continued talking, trying to distract the man so he could make his escape. "And you really think the power you hold over people's lives can make up for what you lack in your own?"

Dean always had a knack for getting under people's skin by saying things exactly what they didn't want to hear. Leo was a selfish bastard who did anything to keep himself alive. The man dropped the knife he was using to the cutting board and turned around to face the hunter. A sour look crossed the chef's face, the kind Dean was all too familiar with. "So, dog boy, what do I need to eat to take you down, huh?"

Leo headed over to his personal stash of animal organs he kept conveniently in a cooler. He crouched down and began searching for the perfect ingredients to end the man’s life. "You don't want to do this." Dean warned him. 

“Oh, but I do want to do this. See, I’m gonna kill you and your brother, work up a nice appetite, and then I’m gonna eat your friend.” Leo said. He laughed quietly to himself when he saw Dean quickly look over at his brother and to you. “I mean, I don’t know what the hell she is, but with healing powers like that, who cares? He could cure me.” Leo examined a few more containers before finding the one that felt perfect. The label on the clear container read wolf heart. “Dog on sort-of dog.”

Dean worked even faster when the man took out the wolf’s heart and began the familiar chant to the spell. He managed to cut through the cord in record time and jumped back up to his feet, grabbing the cleaver that was thrown at him earlier. Dean attempted to attack the man when he was distracted, but Leo managed to dodge, causing the hunter to drop the knife to the ground. Dean roughly shoved the other man to the ground, sparing him a few seconds as he quickly looked around to see if he might be able to find another weapon. Only when he looked to the chef he realized the spell had worked quickly when the man bared sharp canine teeth. 

Dean didn’t waste a second bolting out of the kitchen and through the hall, trying to distance himself from the psychopath before he could get himself or anyone else hurt. He found himself back outside with seconds to figure out how to take Leo down for good. A thought crossed his mind when the back door swung open. 

“Sorry.” Leo taunted the man. “Wolf trumps dog.” 

“Maybe.” Dean said. “But not a whole pack.” 

The good karma Dean had given to the dogs at the shetler was about to be returned in full. He whistled loud enough for the Colonel to come running only seconds later, along with all the others he freed earlier. When Leo realized the mutts were coming towards his direction, a panic set through him as he tried to find an escape. He tried to open the back door in which he came out with no success. The man was cornered with nowhere to go except to suffer the fate of his consequences. Dean watched on for a moment as the man was ripped apart by the mutts, his screams of pain fell on deaf ears. And when he knew for sure all of this was taken care of, Dean rushed back inside the restaurant, wanting to make sure you and his brother were all right. 

Dean tried not to panic when he saw the copious amount of dried blood on your neck and clothing with not a single scratch on your body. He crouched down to your level and tried to get you to wake up when he felt a pulse. You remained unconscious even when he cradled your head into his hands and moved you around slightly. 

“For the love of God, Y/N. Hey, sweetheart.” Dean could hear his voice tremor when you didn’t even flinch. He tried to somehow reach the angel that was quietly possessing your body, but all he got was nothing. You remained as you were. Dean began to softly slap your cheek to try and get you to come back around. “Hey. Come on.” He almost begged for you to snap out of it, not stopping until you opened your eyes. “Don’t make me lick your damn face.” 

Dean started shaking your entire body in a desperate attempt until he finally heard the sweet sound of you gasping for breath. You slowly opened your eyes as you started coming back into consciousness. A blurry sight of a worried Dean was the first thing you were greeted with. In true fashion, you weren’t sure what was going on, but the question that fell out of your mouth was about the well being of Sam when you didn’t see him. Dean couldn’t help the smile that crept on his lips as he helped you up from the ground and the both of you tended to his brother.

+ + + 

You always wanted to have a dog growing up. You even thought about getting one when you lived on your own, it might have made the loneliness a little easier. If the Colonel had somehow landed in your lap years ago before you started hunting you would have jumped on the chance to give him a good home. Dean's ability to read his mind had given him extra points for the attachment you had grown on him. But with the lifestyle you lead it would have been impossible. And you couldn't bear the thought of bringing him back to the pound. So, you thought of the next best thing. A couple of hippies who probably loved animals more than themselves.

“When you called us about adopting him, we couldn’t believe it.” Dylan made no effort to hide the smile on his face at the German Shepherd who was currently being overwhelmed with love from his wife, Olivia. 

“Aren’t you the sweetest?” She cooed at the dog.

“Ugh.” The Colonel grimaced as he tried to turn his head away from the lady. Dean chuckled to himself at the thoughts only he could hear. “Back off, tofu-breath.” 

“Oh, you must be starving.” Olivia said. “Lucky for you, I baked some vegan doggy cupcakes.” 

She jumped to her feet and went with her husband to the back of the kitchen to fetch those treats. You smiled to yourself at how happy they seemed. You looked down in the direction of the Colonel when you decided it was time for you and Dean to say your final goodbyes. All though you might not have been able to speak a single word to the mutt, there was a soft spot in your heart for him. It was those damn puppy dog eyes that won you over. 

“I’m gonna be pooping wheatgrass with these two.” The Colonel said.

“Look, I know they’re hippie freaks, but they’re gonna give you a good home—one that you deserve.” Dean reassured the dog about the future for him. He crouched down so he was at level with him to have one more proper conversation. In a way Dean felt bad himself for not being able to adopt the Colonel from the way you had grown attached to him. He would be lying if he said the mutt didn’t grow on him, too. “Wish we could take you on the road with us, but it’s no life for a dog.”

“Don’t sweat it. I get carsick anyway.” The Colonel responded. He would grow comfortable in his new home with time. You crouched down to the ground with Dean to say your final goodbyes to the dog as well. Before you could even get a word out, you were bombarded with dog kisses that were slobbery and wet. You let out a genuine laugh at how much the Colonel's licks tickled your skin. "I'm gonna miss her the most. No offense, buddy.” 

“None taken.” Dean said. He watched for a moment as you seemed happy in that moment, the smile on your face was enough for him to feel some sort of peace he hadn't felt in weeks. Even if in the back of his mind it would eventually fade once all of you hit the road. 

“I should probably mention this, but I barfed in your backseat.” The Colonel felt the need to slip in some last minute information as you momentarily distracted Dean from the way you were coddling the dog as if he were a small child. “I was afraid to tell you earlier.” 

“You…” Dean’s first reaction was to get angry at hearing the surprise that was waiting for him.

“Come on.” The Colonel managed to speak first when Dean trailed off. He felt the need to remind him of the bonding moment you were having. “Don’t ruin the moment.” 

Dean brushed it off with a chuckle. “I’m gonna miss you, buddy.” 

“I’ll miss you, too.” The Colonel offered his paw for Dean to shake as their final farewell. Along with one more thing. “And by the way, as an honorary dog, there’s something you should know. Dogs aren’t really man’s best friend.” 

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked. 

“I know it sounds like a conspiracy theory, but the real reason we were put here was to…” The Colonel was about to give the man a piece of information that would change his life forever, but all that Dean heard next was a series of barks. None of which he understood. 

“Put here to do what?” Dean asked the dog, suddenly needing to find out the answer. All the Colonel could do was bark in some kind of attempt to communicate with him. But it fell on your untrained ears. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. Oh, now the spell wears off?!”

Dean let out a frustrated sigh at how things seemed to always work out. Part of him was glad that things would finally get back to normal, but there would always be another part that wondered what kind of information he would never know. Both of you said your final farewells to the Colonel before heading out to the parked Impala where Sam had been waiting for you. 

“How’d it go?” Sam asked.

“Well, bad news is that I’m gonna miss the flea bag. Good news is it looks like the spell is finally wearing off.” Dean informed his brother, catching him up to speed with what the both of you knew. You faintly listened to the conversation as you crossed your arms over your chest and glanced back over to the bakery. A look crossed your face that worried Dean. “You okay? The stetson man got you pretty good.”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. I just…I can’t stop thinking about what he said.” You chuckled to yourself at strange words you remembered him speaking to you before everything went black. You had told the boys when everything settled down. They had brushed it off as nothing, but for some reason you were still thinking about it. The entire situation didn’t make sense. 

“Oh, come on, sweetheart.” Dean said. “Guy was out of his freaking gourd.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, why would he ask that?” You asked the boys, as if they had some sort of explanation to Leo’s strange behavior. “Why did he want to know what I was?” 

“Who the hell knows? He was all jacked up on juice, you know? He was possessed by something he couldn’t control. It was…It was just a matter of time before it completely took over.” Dean tried to find an explanation that would put this conversation to bed once and for all. You didn’t seem all that convinced from the way you kept staring at him. “You can’t reason with crazy, right?” 

You let out a faint sigh. “I don’t know.” 

“Well, I do.” Dean said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Trust me, Y/N. You got nothing to worry about.” 

At the moment all you could do was take Dean's words at face value. You knew in the back of your mind that he was right. You were ordinary as the next person on the street. But you found yourself wondering one particular thing. How did you get covered in blood? Sam was perfectly fine without a scratch, and so was Dean. All of you were okay. Your fingers subconsciously scratched the side of your neck, the same spot you swore you remembered feeling claws dig into the skin and rip open. All that remained was smoothness, not a single scar. Maybe your head was still scrambled from the trials. That was the only thing that made sense to you. 

You loaded yourself up into the backseat of the Impala as the boys took their respectful spots like always. A comfortable routine that helped somewhat put your mind at ease. While Dean turned on the car and got ready to drive off, you found yourself smelling something that was slightly off. You sniffed the air a few more times as you grimaced at the foul smell that was almost coming out of nowhere.

“What’s that smell?” You asked. “It smells like…”

“Vomit?” Dean wondered. You nodded your head as you tried to find the source in the darkness of the night as he kept on driving. “The Colonel got sick. Watch your step.” 

"Oh, God. Ew." You grumbled to yourself. You quickly rolled down the window to let the fresh breeze of the night clear some of the foul smell and help ease your mind. You let out a quiet sigh as you turned your head to watch as the bakery got smaller in the distance. If one positive thing came from this case, it was knowing you had placed a dog in a safe home. "Good thing that mutt is cute." 

[Next Part]

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[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, April 19

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover

Page 2: Michael Douglas' short-term memory loss and frail frame have wife Catherine Zeta-Jones fearing for her older husband's well-being -- Michael once declared he'd beaten oral cancer, but harsh chemotherapy and radiation treatments have left him a shell of his former self and he has even admitted to suffering memory problems -- he was also affected by the 2020 death of his father Kirk Douglas and he hasn't been the same since his dad died -- this is a guy who cheated death with a horrific cancer ordeal, and he's had other medical issues over the years and some serious domestic dramas that have taken their toll -- Catherine always knew that their age difference would mean her taking care of him one day but she didn't expect it to be so soon

Page 3: Reese Witherspoon has ditched her wedding ring during recent outings, sparking rumors her marriage to Jim Toth is on the ropes but she feels their relationship isn't down for the count and refuses to give up the fight to keep their family together but they may not make it -- the desire to make things work is still there on both sides and they've been able to pull it all together all these years, even with personalities as different as theirs mainly for the sake of their family and they got on each other's nerves while cooped up together during the pandemic, but they don't bicker in public and that's one thing they have going for them

Page 4: Ryan Seacrest creeped out his pals when he gushed over Maria Menounos when she sat in for Kelly Ripa on Live recently -- Ryan thinks Maria is the smartest, most talented and beautiful woman to walk the planet and he can't help but swoon over her but Ryan understands Maria is happily married to TV writer and producer Keven Underago and he'd never cross the line and he doesn't want to date Maria, but he makes no secret he'd be dancing on air to have someone like her, which is kind of creepy, but he can't help it -- Ryan would never make moves on someone else's girl, but he does try to imitate her husband Keven's qualities like how funny and creative and sensible he is and Ryan adores Kelly and thinks she's great but he wouldn't mind if she takes more time off just so he can gaze at Maria

* Miley Cyrus' recent boozy night out with party pals, including British punk rocker Yungblud, has loved ones fearing she's slipping back into dangerous territory -- she was spotted at Hollywood's famous Rainbow Bar & Grill, drinking shots and beer chasers, just months after she admitted to her struggles with addiction and after fellow addiction-challenged singer Demi Lovato announced she was California sober, claiming she was safely able to drink in moderation, Miley didn't see any reason why she couldn't do the same -- her family and sober friends are deeply concerned for Miley's well-being and are begging her to stop drinking now

Page 5: Newly robust Celine Dion has her health back on track following a dangerous few years where she looked like a walking skeleton -- she has beefed up her wraith-like frame by making healthier choices during lockdown -- she went through a rough time of transition after husband Rene Angelil's death and lost a lot of weight, but lockdown has given her a chance to rest and focus on taking care of herself and now she looks 15 to 20 pounds heavier and seems in good spirits and is looking forward to rebooting her Courage World Tour when the pandemic ends

Page 6: Fitness fanatic Tim McGraw is a changed man since he kicked the bottle in 2008, but he's now hooked on working out and sculpting the perfect bod and he's publicly admitted exercise is what gets him flying high but his quest to get ripped to the max is now a 24/7 obsession and he spends hours in the gym and he's already flexing a muscular body most men would die for, but he doesn't want to stop until he's an Adonis and he works out twice or three times a day and packs his diet with energy-boosting smoothies and veggie juices and some might say he's going overboard with the workouts, but Tim craves those feel-good endorphins and he considers his workouts to be fun -- he loves the way he looks and thinks he can do better and he does spend a lot of time in front of the mirror admiring himself and tends to wear tight T-shirts that show off his pecs and six-pack abs, and wife Faith Hill loves the results -- a lot of people say he's traded one addiction for another

Page 7: Nearly six years after their bitter divorce, Miranda Lambert has finally extended an olive branch to ex-husband Blake Shelton, but she's still pretty envious over his professional success with fiancee Gwen Stefani -- last year, Blake and Gwen took home the collaborative video prize at the Country Music Television Awards for their duet Nobody but You, and also scored a Top Ten hit with their single Happy Anywhere and it makes Miranda jealous to see Blake making hay on the charts with Gwen but their success also made Miranda recall Over You, her hit collaboration with Blake, which won Song of the Year at the 2012 Country Music Association Awards and during a recent interview, Miranda affectionately blew kisses toward the camera as she recounted how her ballad with Blake was inspired by his grief over the loss of his older brother; still, Miranda also harbors a competitive streak and said she's angling to transform herself and husband Brendan McLoughlin into entertainment movers and shakers just like Blake and Gwen -- Miranda plans to enroll Brendan in acting school and Miranda wants them to act together and they are looking for scripts to make a television movie and even planning to launch a production company in Nashville and Miranda recognizes the musical chemistry Blake and Gwen share, and she believes she and Brendan can match that success on-screen -- meanwhile, as Blake and Gwen prepare to wed, Miranda is finally in a place where she can wish them well and Miranda carried a lot of animosity toward Blake and Gwen, especially since she suspected they started something before she and Blake split up, but she's very happy with Brendan so maybe all that pain she and Blake went through in ending their marriage was for the best

* Reba McEntire is reaching out to save her friend and former daughter-in-law Kelly Clarkson from suffering through a divorce that eerily mirrors Reba's own breakup -- Kelly split from husband and manager Brandon Blackstock in June 2020, and the divorce battle has them fighting over custody of their two kids as well as Brandon suing her for $1.4 million in unpaid commissions, but Reba has seen this before: Brandon's dad, Narvel Blackstock, dumped her in 2015 after 26 years of marriage, and despite initially agreeing to continue as her manager, dumped her as a client weeks later and Reba knows all too well how petty and conniving Narvel and Brandon can be, and her heart goes out to Kelly -- Kelly admits to Reba there are times when she just wants to run away and hide and Reba tells her to run away to me and it means the world to Kelly to have Reba in her corner -- Narvel and son Brandon head Starstruck Entertainment and are adamant that Kelly owes them big bucks for helping her land both her talk show and a coaching spot on The Voice, but with Reba's help, Kelly is fighting back and Reba learned the hard way the pitfalls of mixing business with family life and she's trying to help Kelly because she hates to see another woman suffer at the hands of a Blackstock

Page 8: Sicko Jeffrey Epstein has been accused of a horrific new litany of abuse by a woman who claims he forced her into unwanted genital surgery, raped her in front of her child and threatened to feed her to alligators -- the woman, identified in court papers as Jane Doe, is suing the late pervert's estate, claiming he and his alleged madam Ghislaine Maxwell, groomed her for their sordid pleasure -- in the suit, she claims Epstein drove her to pick up her 8-year-old son and took them to a lake, where he threatened to feed her to alligators, as had happened to other girls in the past, if she dared to squeal on him -- at the time, the woman said she was 26, but she looked much younger and Epstein told her to say she was 17 and he also arranged for a man with a Russian accent to perform an unnecessary vaginal surgery to pass her off as a virgin to a client and this violent and illegal procedure was botched, leaving her mutilated, in pain, disabled, and permanently sexually dysfunctional

Page 9: Ghislaine Maxwell has been slapped with yet another sex trafficking charge and it's got her former pal Prince Andrew sweating bullets -- the new indictment details how Jeffrey Epstein's alleged madam reportedly groomed a 14-year-old for him, but crucially for Andrew, it expands the time frame of Ghislaine's alleged crimes from 1994 to 2004, a span that includes her meeting the British royal in 1999 and then introducing him to Epstein and that time frame also includes the period in which "sex slave" Virginia Roberts Giuffre claims she slept with Andrew three times, charges he's denied -- the new charge also opens the floodgates on other celebrities, politicians and high-profile figures who were in Epstein's orbit at the time and the new indictment widens the pool for Ghislaine and her defense attorneys because who wouldn't want to bring down all of these fat cats and who wouldn't be that desperate?

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Rumer Willis got to the root of her gardening needs in L.A., Michael B. Jordan and Chante Adams got cozy as they shared a snack while shooting Journal for Jordan in NYC's Central Park, Heidi Klum in L.A., Mario Lopez tossed the ceremonial first dice roll at the opening of the Mohegan Sun Casino in Las Vegas, Christopher Meloni shot his onscreen spouse's funeral scene for Law & Order: Organized Crime

Page 11: Tony Bennett has a secret weapon in his fight against Alzheimer's disease: his close pal and collaborator Lady Gaga -- Susan Crow Benedetto, 54, the wife of the 94-year-old singing legend, has enlisted Gaga to help keep Tony's faculties sharp as he struggles with advancing dementia because Gaga's telephone calls have always helped cheer Tony up and keep him focused and they laugh together, reminisce and sometimes sing and it always puts a smile on Tony's face and it's great therapy -- when asked whether Tony still recognizes the pop star, Susan joked that Gaga is hard to forget -- Gaga has also played a critical role in keeping the aging crooner active and creative by working with him and they plan to release their second album of duets this spring as a follow-up to their 2014 smash hit Cheek to Cheek

* Worried friends feared ailing rock god Ozzy Osbourne is coming unstrung while wife Sharon Osbourne's career goes into a death spiral -- Ozzy has been plagued by crippling illnesses over the years, including Parkinson's disease, and has to walk with the aid of a cane and now he's at wit's end and pushing himself into a danger zone as his wife fights tooth and nail after leaving The Talk amid a racism scandal and Ozzy's been under a great deal of distress over Sharon's problems over at The Talk and he worries and fusses over her and can't focus on anything else and it's left many in his circle very concerned for his health which is fragile enough already -- the bashing Sharon received during the scandal has the aging rocker concerned she may never work again and he'll have to be the breadwinner

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- five years after Angelina Jolie filed for divorce, she's still battling Brad Pitt over custody of their five youngest kids, now she's filed new court documents claiming she has proof of domestic violence against Brad and accusations like these would kill anyone else's career, but not in this case: Hollywood is 100 percent behind Brad and the sense in the industry is Angelina has weaponized the kids against Brad but Brad is very well respected in Hollywood, and most people find these new allegations hard to believe and if anything, Angie is only hurting the children and herself

* Real Housewives stars featured in the upcoming spinoff are cashing in and Bravo will pay Luann de Lesseps, Teresa Giudice and the others a sweet $200,000 for one week's work in Turks and Caicos and that's more than double what the ladies usually get for filming, plus they get a free trip to a tropical island

* American Idol could be on the chopping block because in just seven weeks the show has lost 2 million viewers and it's simple math: Idol cannot survive with its current budget and ABC has two options which are cancel the show or cut costs, which would mean hiring cheaper judges and a cheaper host to replace Ryan Seacrest and both options are being explored

* Britney Spears' beau, personal trainer Sam Asghari, shows off his toned abs in L.A. (picture)

Page 13: Palace insiders fear Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's vendetta against the British monarchy will take a shocking new turn: they'll bankroll a lurid movie about Princess Diana's death and the conspiracy theories that suggest the royal family was involved -- the rights to the movie script are owned by Hollywood producer Ben Browning, who was just hired by Harry and Meghan to run their film company Archewell Productions -- the controversial movie centers on Princess Diana's lover Dodi Fayed's father, former Harrods' boss Mohamed Al-Fayed, investigating his son's death and his belief that Dodi and Diana were murdered because she was pregnant and planning to marry, and The Firm did not want a Muslim in the royal family

Page 14: Crime

Page 15: Alabama Shakes drummer Steve Johnson has been busted on charges of willful torture and abuse of a child and was also charged with cruelly beating or otherwise maltreating a child under the age of 18 -- his arrest came just a year after he was slapped with a one-year suspended sentence and two years' probation after pleading guilty to menacing his ex-wife Whitney Lee, who called him mentally unstable -- Johnson helped the Shakes score three Grammys in 2016 for their album Sound & Color but the band has been on hiatus since singer Brittany Howard started a solo career in 2018 and Steve was lost after that; he went from playing in front of 50,000 people to playing in bars again -- even if the Shakes reunite, it's highly unlikely Steve would be invited back -- Steve remains in county jail awaiting his court date and his attorneys said Mr. Johnson maintains his innocence

* Danny Masterson and his lawyers believe they are victims of anti-Scientology bias and cannot get a fair trial in his Los Angeles rape case -- celebrity attorney Tom Mesereau, who successfully defended Michael Jackson against child molestation charges two decades ago, claimed his client has been treated unfairly because of his ties to the church, and that the police or district attorney's office leaked damaging details of the case -- Danny and his lawyers feel persecuted and that everybody in Hollywood who isn't a Scientologist is after them -- LAPD Robbery and Homicide Division Capt. Jonathan Tippet said his organization is keeping a tight lid on all information surrounding the case to ensure Masterson gets a fair trial

Page 16: Mormon church officials are being accused of corporate greed for using members' charitable donations to secretly create a $100 billion tax-free fund -- James Huntsman, the son of a prominent Mormon family, is suing the church for fraud, claiming donations solicited to finance charity work were actually used to fill church coffers -- the church boasts at least 15 million members worldwide, including celebrities like Gladys Knight, Donny and Marie Osmond, Katherine Heigl, Julianne Hough, Christina Aguilera, Ryan Gosling, Amy Adams and Aaron Eckhart and many could have tithed money that ended up in the tax-free fund

Page 17: Jen Shah of The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City was recently fingered by the feds as the bogus businesswoman behind a multi-state fraud scheme dating back to 2012 -- the Bravo blowhard, known for her extravagant parties, designer outfits and extensive entourage, and her first assistant Stuart Smith were arrested and charged with conspiracy to commit wire fraud and conspiracy to commit money laundering -- the U.S. Justice Department alleged the Park City resident and Smith of Lehi generated and sold lead lists of innocent individuals for other members of their scheme to repeatedly scam, and claimed the greedy creeps defrauded hundreds of victims -- the terrible twosome targeted older adults and computer illiterate folks by using both telemarketing and in-person sales teams to peddle nonexistent online services and then fight the refund efforts of wronged consumers -- if convicted, Shah and Smith each face up to 50 years behind bars

Page 18: American Life

Page 20: L.A. County Sheriff Alex Villanueva triggered a cover-up scandal when he revealed his investigators determined why Tiger Woods drove off a California cliff, then refused to explain what happened, citing the golf legend's privacy -- Villanueva said the black box in the Genesis SUV that Tiger was driving when he flew off a suburban L.A. highway in the early morning helped determine the cause

* Hollywood Hookups -- Bethenny Frankel and Paul Bernon engaged, Melissa and Joe Gorga appear to have reached the finale of their marriage, Fernanda Flores and professional boxes Noel Mikaelian dating

Page 21: Britney Spears said she broke into tears after seeing bits of the new documentary about how she has been in the grips of a conservatorship for years, saying she was embarrassed by the light they put her in and she cried for two weeks and still cries sometimes

* Generous Hollywood legend Dick Van Dyke put a happy face on job seekers in Malibu when he handed out fistfuls of cash -- Dick was spotted withdrawing bills from a bank before driving to the Malibu Community Labor Exchange, a nonprofit that helps unemployed locals find day jobs and he stayed in his car as he handed out money to masked folks who were lined up to look for work

Page 22: The late Aretha Franklin left behind a royal mess of paperwork, including a newly discovered fourth will that has thrown her $80 million estate into fresh turmoil -- the eight-page document, titled The Will of Aretha Franklin, was apparently drawn up not long before her death in 2018, and was recently found among the files of the singer's onetime attorney Henry Grix along with the paperwork describing the terms of a trust but both items are stamped draft and neither has Aretha's signature but Michigan law changed seven years ago, and it made the admissibility of a document like this more flexible -- currently there's a bitter beef among Aretha's four adult sons over how their mother's assets should be divided

Page 23: The battle over Prince's $300 million fortune rages on, and the late pop star's siblings, and legal heirs, fear there won't be anything left after lawyers, accountants, administrators and the IRS take their cut -- five years after he died from a fatal fentanyl overdose without leaving a will, an avalanche of deals and court hearings have left his massive cash stash in limbo -- sadly Prince's distrust of lawyers and other professionals now means that millions will be spent paying those same people to try to sort out the mess he left behind and this could go on for a decade

Page 26: Weird Body Language -- stars cope with bizarre deformities -- Denzel Washington, Steven Tyler, Ashton Kutcher, Matthew Perry

Page 27: Lily Allen, Mark Wahlberg, Karolina Kurkova, Scar Service -- Tina Fey, Padma Lakshmi, Joaquin Phoenix

Page 32: Health Watch

* Ask the Vet -- Watch out for xylitol

Page 34: Just months after John Travolta's beloved wife, Kelly Preston, passed, the actor has been shattered by another death in the family -- his nephew Sam Travolta's badly decomposed body was found in his Wisconsin apartment last September, weeks after he died from a suspected heart attack -- John has suffered through so much loss and Sam's death was another huge blow but he's strong and has a deep faith in Scientology and the church brings him solace and comfort

Page 36: Shark Tank star Barbara Corcoran has stepped up to get a tenant in one of her buildings back on his feet -- Barbara and building co-owner Alex Rodriguez came under fire after Ryo Nagaoka's possessions were reportedly tossed while he was hospitalized with COVID-19 and when Ryo got home he found only his piano and pet tortoise in his cleaned-out crib -- emptying Ryo's apartment was necessary because it had become a health hazard and had a biocleaning crew scrub it -- Barbara donated $12,000 to a GoFundMe page for him, while A-Rod has seemingly not yet contributed anything and Barbara also said the building's management company has renovated Ryo's apartment

Page 38: Beloved game show host Peter Marshall made a miraculous recovery from COVID-19 to celebrate with friends at his 95th birthday party -- Peter was in and out of the hospital for ten weeks and he was at death's door and doctors didn't give him much of a chance but Peter beat the odds to enjoy a Zoom party attended online by Leslie Uggams, Loni Anderson, Sandy Duncan, Ruta Lee, Karen Valentine, Rich Little, JoAnne Worley, Jack Jones and more

* Accused sex freak Armie Hammer's career is in the crapper and he's beginning to believe that's where it will stay -- the kink king was fired from the thriller Billion Dollar Spy amid sexual assault allegations and the release of social media messages claiming he has dark fetishes including cannibalism -- Armie has already gotten to boot from the movie Shotgun Wedding and the series The Offer, and more trouble may be on the horizon: Armie was accused of sexual assault by a woman called Effie, who alleged the actor violently raped her and Armie's attorneys issued a statement denying the claims, saying Effie's own correspondence with Mr. Hammer undermines and refutes her outrageous allegations -- Armie has been keeping a low profile at a Caribbean resort, but fears his entire career is in trouble

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Carrie Underwood

[sardonicnihilism]

A Biography of the Woman Who Never Was

Part 5 The Older Woman

Chapter 5

The rest of 2018 and 2019 passed in fairly unremarkable fashion. The kids kept seeing the counselor, Jerry's behavior and grades improved until he was one of his grades top students. Tabatha, likewise, did extremely well academically. Jerry joined the school soccer team and took up violin, and Tabatha took up piano, guitar, and drums. While life continued with its normal ups and downs, it really did seem like the worst was behind them.

Even when 2020 hit like a meteor, it still didn't affect Shannon and her family that much. Both Sam and Shannon were deemed essential workers, and therefore kept their jobs. The schools shut down, but Shannon did home lessons over the summer and the kids did remote learning in the fall. Jerry struggled, having a hard time staying focused, but Tabatha did exceptionally well.

It was November when things started to go to Hell for them personally. Shannon started noticing a pain in her right chest and shoulder. It would constantly ache, and if she moved too fast, bolts of sharp, white hot pain would shoot through her body. At first she thought it was just muscle strain from lifting too much (she had gotten back into weight training to lose weight), but when she had taken a week off and there was no improvement, she knew she had to see a doctor.

Here appointment was in December, the week after Christmas. The doctor checked her out and then chewed her out. She was 47 years old and had never had a mammogram. Shannon reluctantly agreed to have one and her doctor made the appointment.

Shannon got her mammogram the second week of January at 8:50 AM. By 3:30 PM, she had three messages saying she should contact them immediately. Shannon had breast cancer. More than that, it had already spread to other parts of her body. After a consultation with the entire family, they decided on an aggressive treatment plan. Unfortunately, it was too late.

Shannon's health declined rapidly. Most of her hair fell out and she shrank from 252 pounds to 110. She was week and tired all the time. She mostly laid in bed, only getting up to use the bathroom; usually to vomit. It was decided that she would enter the hospital for her final days.

Sam would visit everyday. At first he brought the kids with him every time, then every other day, and then they would only come once a week on Sundays. By the end of April, it was clear it was only a matter of days.

Sam's last visit was on a Sunday. It was a perfect spring day. It was so warm and sunny that it made Sam angry. It seemed like a cosmic insult to everything he and Shannon were going through. However, he had managed to purge himself of his bitterness by the time he had gotten to Shannon's room.

She was staring out the window, a contemplative smile gracing her gaunt face. Her hands were folded in her lap and she looked almost transcendent.

"How's the most beautiful woman in the world doing today?" he asked with forced happiness as he entered her room.

Shannon turned to him and smiled as happy a smile as she could. "I don't know. I haven't seen her today," she joked back in her weak, hoarse voice.

Sam grabbed a chair and sat beside her. "How're you sweetie?" he asked with a hushed sadness.

"I'm ok. Best as possible I suppose. I was just thinking I beat mom by a month. She passed in April, I made it all the way to May. Of course she beats me on years though." Shannon's sense of gallows humor was not only still there, but had become stronger than ever.

"I tried to get the kids to come out, but they just couldn't," Sam said apologetically.

Shannon just waved her hand. "It's ok, my family never did do death well."

She turned back to the window and started talking as much to herself as to Sam. "I was going to ask you to make a recording of me saying my farewells to the kids, but then I thought if I really wanted this to be the last and forever image of me; a sad, shriveled up husk of a human being - an image of sadness and loss? That just seems too cruel. I'd rather be forgotten if that is the case."

"You'll never be forgotten," Sam tried to reassure her.

She turned back to him, smiling even more. "We're all forgotten eventually darling." She then reached out and took his hand. "It's been a life, hasn't it?"

"It sure has," he said, trying to smile, but tears were already starting to run down his cheek. "And I thank you for being the love of mine."

"As you are with mine," she said in a peaceful voice.

"No, you don't have to say that. You don't have to pretend." He shook his head as he spoke. He didn't want their potentially last moments to be filled with lies.

"Who's pretending?" Shannon said, sounding almost happy, like he had just told her a joke. "What? You think because I'm not romantically or sexualy attracted to you, that means you're not the love of my life? People put so much emphasis on romantic love. Darling, you were far more than a lover. Being a lover is easy. You were a friend." She then brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it.

Sam was now weeping heavily. "The first time I met you in the library, I knew I loved you," he choked out.

"When I was a little girl, I asked my grandfather why he kept the dogs outside. He said because animals don't belong in the house. That night, my biological mother, left me in her car while she went into the bar. I was alone, freezing. I wondered if maybe I was an animal and that's why I was being left alone.

"My entire life I felt alone, unloved, unlovable. I was angry and bitter and I hurt anyone or thing I could so they would feel what I felt. I caused so much pain.

"Then I met Jen and I thought I found love. I loved her and I thought she loved me, but she only loved what she thought I was. When I turned out not to be that, she turned her back on me and I went off the deep end.

"And then there was you. You made me laugh. I could talk to you about anything. I felt safe around you; not physically, but emotionally. I became a better person because of you.

"Even when I came out to you, you didn't turn me away, throw me out, which I would have understood if you did. You never stopped being my rock, my shoulder to cry on, the clown to make me laugh when I was crying. You never stopped being my friend."

"And I never will," Sam barely choked out.

"And that is why you're the love of my life."

Sam got up and they embraced. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and she gave him one the cheek. They spent the next five hours just reminiscening and joking.

"I better get going, I suppose," Sam said reluctantly. "I can't leave the kids alone all day, but I don't want to leave you alone either. Not to die at least."

"We all die alone honey, even if we're surrounded by people," she said with a smile. "Go. You're a father and your kids need you. I'm already dead. The only thing the dead need is rest. Just, just tell the kids I love them."

"Always," he said tearfully.

A couple hours after he left, she began to feel really tired, her fingers and toes started going numb. She knew the time had come.

She started thinking about tombstones. A name, a dash, and another date. Everything she was, everything she had been, reduced to a small line, carved in a stone that would survive long after she had been forgotten. It seemed unfair, cruel even.

She then thought about something else, something she had learned back in college. She thought about quantum entanglement, how two atoms can become entangled, linked forever across time and space, eternal mirrors to each other.

Her mind then darted to the concept of the multiverse. How there might be infinite universes out, each with their own version of her. What if two versions could be linked somehow? Entangled? What if her mirror was out there? Could she reach her? Could her mind link across dimensions to one of her other selves to share her story?

*Please, please, if can hear me, please tell my story. Please don't let me be forgotten!*, she thought over and over to herself, trying to reach out to anyone who might hear until her brain ceased to function and she passed away.

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

Shannon Brown was born on November 22, 1975 to a single, alcoholic mother. He was taken in by his grandparents and his aunt Mary who raised him as her own. It is Mary who he considers to be his real mother. His biological mother, Kathy, would have two other children, a girl named Tracy (1977) and Paul Jr. (1979).

By about 4 or 5, Shannon knew that he wasn't a he, but a she, but having no language to express this, she kept this to herself. Shannon grew up alone, morbidly obese for most of her life, she never really had any friends and was constantly bullied and picked on. This made her angry and she would often act out in horrible and usually, self destructive ways.

She did manage to lose weight and was thin from 19 to 24. It was at this time she met her future wife, Samantha Hopwood online. Samantha, an Australian citizen, eventually moved to the United States and they got married in 2001. In 2009, their first child, Joshua was born.

It was after that, Shannon came out to Samantha as transgender. It caused a lot of pain and anger in their marriage, but they were able to work through some of it so that they had their second child, Tara, in 2011. In 2020, after years of being partially closeted, Shannon came out to everyone on Facebook (much to the horror of her wife).

It was about this time that Shannon discovered an app called FaceApp. It could change your photo to look like a child, old person, even the opposite physical gender. Shannon took a picture of herself, femininized it, and then took that new picture and reaged it from a little girl to an old woman. As Shannon stared at the pictures, she couldn't help but marvel over how real they looked! These looked like real pictures of an actual person.

"Who are you?" she said to herself. "Who are you, what is your story?" The more she stared at the pictures, the more she could almost hear this stranger call out, "Please, please, tell my story." It was then Shannon knew what she had to do. She opened her Tumblr app, hit the write symbol, and began-

A Biography of the Woman Who Never Was

Part 1: The Girl

Chapter 1

*This story is dedicated to the memory of H.P. Lovecraft; a horrible man, but great world builder. This wouldn't exist without him.*

[bellamyblake]

I hope you don't mind the asks 🙈 quarantined and bored. What's your favorite bellarke au and headcanons about it?

I don’t mind them. Thank you. 

Well I like the soldier!AUs a lot, the figher!bellamy nurse!clarke a lot! Those are my favorite. I also love canon divergent fics and I love writing them. I love hurt!bell and Clarke freaking out over him, those are my faves. I love kid!fics too. 

For the solider things I usually have that in my head:

I like thinking of him as a leader of his own team, a badass sergeant while she’s a medic who recently joined their squad. 

They have a hate/love relationship going. He doesn’t like her, because she’s the daughter of a really famous army general Jake Griffin, but he has to respect her because he died in battle when she was 13 years old. 

Still, he finds her privileged. 

He loves his team and his fellow soldiers and he does his best to protect them. 

They start bonding only when Jasper gets hurt and Bellamy brings him over to the med tent all panicked and scared and she saves his life. He thanks her and after that when she comes to join the team for dinner, he doesn’t antagonize her or leave the table right away. 

They start talking, getting to know each other, he knows it’s dangerous but he allows himself his one thing because he’s never been selfish. 

He tells her he joined the army at 18 when he finished school and was to go to college, but instead he found out his sister had cancer, so he joined in to use the money to pay for her treatment. 

On his second year away, his mom got in a car accident and died. She was on her way to his sister who was undergoing a surgery at the hospital. 

He never forgave himself for not being there for her funeral and his sister, who was on the road to recovery, never forgave him for joining the army and sacrificing himself instead of being home with her and his mom. 

He had no one now, last time he talked to his sister was six months ago when he found out she had been in remission for three months and she never told him. 

She had a boyfriend who proposed and she must’ve probably already been married. His only family was the guys in the squad, he didn’t plan on quitting the army-he’d keep going but Clarke had the feeling it was more of a suicide mission than anything. 

She joined because she wanted to escape her mother’s shadow hanging over her in the hospital where she was doing her residency. 

She wanted to do more and her dad had always told her how precious and needed medics are in war. She did this to honor him. 

From then on they became friends, actually something more than that but they knew they couldn’t cross that line, not on the job anyway.

One day when she’s close to her contract expiring, he gets hurt really bad.

There’s a fight in a town nearby and they sent almost half of their platoon. 

They bring him back on a stretcher, barely alive, her hands tremble as she tries to cover the holes in his body. 

He makes it, just barely but he does. Still, he loses a leg in the process and goes home before her. 

She’s only a week late, rushing to the hospital there, finding him trying to get up on his crutches though his ribs were still broken and his head was wrapped in a tight bandage. 

She doesn’t renew her contract. Instead she finds a job in the hospital in his hometown. 

He struggles to be in a wheelchair until he gets his prosthesis and when he does, he thinks he can miraculously start fixing his old mom’s house.

He can’t. 

But he doesn’t give up. He still tries his best and she helps. She actually likes manual work and them bickering over how she hammers a nail.

Miller, Jasper, Monty and Roan, they all come back six months later, retiring from the army. 

They start living together just a month later.

In six months he proposes. In a year she’s pregnant. They marry in May, just a month before their son Gus comes to the world.

He finds Octavia only another year later and is nervous to meet her in a diner with Clarke on the seat next to him and Gus in his lap. When she comes in, he tenses, tears threaten to spill in his eyes.

But when she finds his eyes, she is not angry or mad. There’s only hope and warmth there.

And as she watches them, Clarke’s heart fills with joy and she thinks that this is more than she ever hoped for.

[shelleyvanniekerk]

Cant find a fitting title ???

I have not blogged much of late, mainly because I feel like a stuck record and also I don't think people have time to read blogs much anymore, and my topic is rather depressing to say the least. I hate to always sound like I am complaining, but somehow writing about what goes on in your head allows it to make sense for yourself so you don't think you going mad, and maybe sometimes it hits home for others, and they can look at things with a different view and have a little bit more understanding.

So my question is this. Imagine you were told you had a terminal disease, and there is no cure. And the only thing that may extend your life (for no guaranteed time), is medication that you have to take daily. That's not too bad you might think, I mean most people are on some sort of medication for a chronic condition and the meds may be life saving. But add to that, that this medication has no guarantee, and hellish side effects! You also have to go for monthly injections, monthly blood tests, and three monthly scans, and oncology visits to hear the outcome. I'm on my 16th cycle now so its been just over a year that this has been gone on. I cant count how many times I have been poked by needles and how many pills I've swallowed, and how many scans/tests I've had and how many times I've had to sit at the Doctors rooms waiting for results. The worst is I've done it all pretty much alone, because of Covid I've not been allowed to take anyone with me. And yes on top of all this you have Covid to worry about. You are high risk and so as if you don't have enough to worry about there is a virus going around killing people also, and guess what, it affects the lungs. 

So my cancer has spread to my lungs and in the beginning they said spine, ribs and right femur. They have since ruled out spine as what they saw on the scans was a life long issue with my discs, even though I told them that in the beginning, they are more likely to assume its cancer. They don't comment on the ribs anymore - I am assuming since they haven't responded to the treatment that it is not cancer and the right femur we don't know about because they have not done another full body scan to actually check that.

I've made peace with the fact that I have to take the pills daily, it is after all a small price to pay for extended life. Although sometimes when I have a few wines in, (yes I drink), I get really annoyed with it and have violently thrown the tablets around some nights spewing out some vulgar language about how much I hate taking them. I have to diarize each time I take them, so obviously I do take them and at the same time everyday, 6h30 each night to be exact.

What I cant seem to make peace with is for starters, the monthly injections. Mostly because they are painful and its not a pleasant experience being jabbed in the stomach each time and you left with a nasty bruise. Sometimes the bruise from the month before is still there and then you get the next bruise. I have the decision of having my ovaries removed, that way I wont need the monthly jabs anymore, but again that's surgery, and now with Covid I don't really want to go to hospital unnecessarily any time soon. But I do get dreadful pains in the ovaries, much like a period and that just makes me mad, I mean, why do I need to put up with unnecessary pain? But its something I will do before the end of the year I think. That will sort one issue out at least. Well two, considering the pain.

Also I have not made peace with the scans and the results.... it really is a difficult thing for me. Its called in cancer terms, scanxiety and yes it exists its not something I made up. And the thing is because its every three months, its like you in a never ending cycle of anxiety. I never relax. I can never sit back and be complacent and think ‘everything is ok’, because with cancer you just never know. I mean 7 years ago I was stage one, it didn't go to the lymph nodes where it apparently goes first if it does spread, and I had a mastectomy and chemo and radiation and and and - and I thought back then that its all over. But it wasn't was it. It went to the lungs and I found out myself because I could not stop coughing and went to see a new GP who suggested bloods. Funny that my oncologist never did bloods - she said they just don't do them and a physical examination is good enough. Well clearly its not. Clearly. If anyone is ever in this situation demand blood tests.... at least every three months. I think its very necessary to keep a record of your cancer count. I mean how the hell else are you supposed to know what's going on it your body? Had they picked it up 3 years ago when I had a normal chest x-ray and started me on treatment then, maybe things would have been different. Who knows.

And that brings me to the anger. That on top of the anxiety. Its the anger that I cant deal with. I thought I had dealt with it but every time I hit a wobbly, its very evident to those around me, especially my husband who gets the brunt of it, that I have not dealt with the anger. But then again, how can you? How can you make peace with the fact that you did everything you should have, and then this nasty disease still decided to come back. How do you make peace with the negligence on the doctors side? And how do I make peace with the fact that this is my lot in life and nothing I do can change it. I mean I love the fact that some people can become NED (no evidence of the disease) after being stage 3 or 4.... and apparently they do so with various things. But its not the case for everyone. Some peoples bodies just don't respond to any diet, any miracle pill, any exercise, and it just keeps spreading elsewhere. And trust me its not for lack of trying. I do follow a reasonably good diet, I do try exercise and drink water, I do take vitamins and constantly searching for new things. I do take cannabis oil, and I'm forever trying to incorporate natural things that have proven to have good results for cancer like turmeric, ginger, bicarb and lemon blah blah blah. The only thing I have been consistent on is the cannabis because it took me from being on 3 patches of morphine to almost no pain in a matter of months so I truly believe in its benefits.

And so far after about 14 months (or more I don't know) I have had good results. Meds and all. There has been about 40% shrinkage and there is no new cancer so that is great news. But I'm at a point now that no matter the results, even though they have been good and I'm very grateful, I still feel so defeated. I cannot get excited and jump up for joy, purely because A) I am anxious about what lies ahead and B) because I've been disappointed before. I've been misdiagnosed and been through so much already that even though its good news I just cant find inner peace, happiness or joy right now. The anxiety outweighs everything, and I wish I could shake it off somehow, but I just cant. I am constantly reminded of cancer, and I'm constantly going for scans and bloods and tests that one never gets to a point where you can forget, even for just a little while. Why cant I just be happy and forget about all this, just for a little while?

I've tried to hand things over to God, I talk to him daily. He knows my struggle. I so hate people who say you don't have enough faith... gosh, whatever. Some people just need a kick up the arse for their insensitivity. They don't know my relationship with God and let me tell you if you were in my shoes you would be quivering in your shoes also, and trust me faith is hard to find when you got all this going on!

So I wake up scared and I go to bed scared and the anxiety is just the pits. And I just try to the best of my ability to function like a normal person, wife, mother, friend, daughter etc. But this thing has seriously taken over my personality. Most of the time I'm faking everything and its so exhausting. So so exhausting. This Covid hasn't helped because that in itself has presented new challenges and has made life rather depressing on top of everything else. But here we all are, trying hard to keep our heads above water and plod on despite the horrible stuff happening around us. 

I am however exceptionally lucky to have a very understanding husband and some really awesome friends. There are a few people in my life that truly understand and never judge me. There are also some who have no clue and they judge me for sure behind my back. I'm not too worried about the judgements because you know, none of us are perfect and if you think you are then you have a big surprise when God Almighty comes down one day soon and tells you what a terrible person you have been.... (eeek, I am judging now too). But I am very grateful to those who have stuck around despite my Wobblies, who genuinely care and love me despite my craziness. You know who you are and I love you so so so very much. And of course my daughter who keeps me on my toes. Without her I would be locked up in an asylum pleading with the nurses to let me go!

To anyone and everyone who is going through a similar journey (I hate that word) , I get you, I totally get you. I love you and I pray for you. And most of all I wish I could make everyone’s pain go away. 

Blessings and love always

Shelley

[harrysgems]

Before Dawn - Part 2

Probably, Leah’s biggest mistake was to assume she didn’t need to stay away from Harry to heal her wounds. After all these years, she still couldn’t understand why he’d kissed her that day. They didn’t party much more after that. Not that his touring schedule allowed it, anyway.

Tears filled her eyes again when she remembered the last time they spoke as true friends. It was already September; her mom was halfway through her chemo treatment and her grandma had just passed away. That left her only with one other grandma, her dad’s mom. It came as a big shock for everyone, especially her mom, who already had enough to struggle with, with all the cancer bullshit.

For some reason, call it luck or call it destiny, whatever you may, Harry texted her that day. He knew what Leah was going through with her mother’s illness and he wasn’t going to let her go through that alone. That was the moment when he found out about Leah’s grandma. At first, she didn’t want him to come, she didn’t want to bother him, but he insisted, so she finally texted him the address. He was there as soon as he could.

The first thing he did when he saw her was embrace her in a tight hug and ask her how she was feeling. To be completely honest, everything felt a little bit better for Leah now that Harry was here. She promised him she was holding up quite well; she hadn’t cried yet and she didn’t feel like doing so for a while. It kind of made her upset, because she felt bad for not being able to cry her grandma, but she had enough on her plate already, and she knew everyone dealt with emotion in a different way.

They were still hugging each other when Frankie, her mom’s Harley biker cousin, approached them. Leah took a step back from Harry and hugged Frankie. They shared a few words, which Harry couldn’t hear and then he left.

She was so grateful Harry was here; he’d managed to pull out the first smile on her face when he told her how scary that guy looked. She reassured him that Frankie might seem scary but deep down he was like a teddy bear, although Harry didn’t look quite convinced.

Leah didn’t know how much she’d needed him to be here until he’d walked through that door. He stayed for way longer than he needed to and, before he left, he checked on her a thousand times, making sure she was going to be okay. She knew he had to leave because he had to pick up his girlfriend on his way home; the information slipped from his own lips before he was even aware of it. The pity look he gave her didn’t help her in trying to hide the sadness she knew her eyes were showing, but she still tried to smile her best.

“Thank you for coming, Harry. I cannot thank you enough.”

When they hugged for the last time, she felt that pull again, that warm, soothing feeling spreading through her body; the safety of being in between his arms.

“I’ll check up on you later, okay?”

“Okay” Leah mumbled.

But the word died at her lips, she recalled, because Harry then kissed her forehead in goodbye, as he’d always done.

That night, when she got home, she cried herself to sleep. Her mom was ill, her grandma was gone, and she realized, after months of thinking she’d gotten over him, that she was still in love with her best friend.

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 Harry took a deep breath before knocking at the front door. He knew no one was home, Leah had told him, but it still didn’t soothe his nerves.

He heard footsteps approaching and a soft barking following them.

“Come in,” Leah smiled at him as she opened the door for him, “Sorry, can’t fully open it or Thor’s gonna run outside.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

The puppy had gone quiet, hiding behind his mommy. It still surprised Harry that Leah actually adopted a dog. He knew she’d always loved children, and that one day she’d be such a great mom, but never in a million years would have he pictured her with a dog.

“It’s fine Thor,” she crouched down to scratch the pup’s head, “This is Harry, he’s a good friend.”

Good friend, the words didn’t go unnoticed to Harry. He wished they were really true.

“Hello Thor,” Harry spoke to the pup as if he were talking to a little kid. That made Leah smile.

“Give him some time, I think he’s still trying to get used to the house,” she chuckled, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having will be fine,” he replied, still looking at the scared puppy.

“Fine, be right back. Do you think you can remember your way to the living room?” she joked.

She obviously knew he could. He’d been here so many times in the past. The soft noise of Thor’s paws against the wooden floor brought him back to the present and he walked to the living room. Everything was still as he remembered it to be.

“Hasn’t changed a bit, huh?” Leah appeared through the other door with a beer on each of her hands.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she offered him a warm smile.

“Why Thor?” he asked, out of the blue.

The pup raised his ears at the sound of his name and cautiously approached them.

“I like it; it’s a powerful name,” she shrugged, “For a very pretty baby,” she added, petting Thor some more.

“It suits him,” Harry mumbled.

“Right?” she smiled.

Leah picked Thor up and sat on the couch, placing the puppy on her lap.

“Come sit here,” she patted the spot next to her and Harry obliged, “Just be gentle and move slowly so he doesn’t get scared,” she whispered, “My cousin’s daughter, Madison, chased him around the house and now I think he’s scared of her,” she chuckled and Harry joined her.

He stretched his arm out to the puppy, letting Thor be the one to approach him. He was very cautious at the beginning, but still curious, just like his mommy. He raised his tiny black head to smell Harry’s hand. He didn’t know this human, he smelled weird.

Thor looked up at his mommy, a little bit scared because there was a human he didn’t know. And he didn’t want this human to take mommy away from him. Then, mommy made that noise that made Thor happy and she scratched him behind his ears, right where he liked it. He wiggled his tail and snuggled closer.

“He’s really cute,” Harry smiled, his arm still stretched out toward the puppy.

“I’m such a proud mommy,” she joked.

“Hello, Thor,” Harry called him.

The pup looked at him again. Why did this human know what mommy called him? He was a pretty human, though.

Thor put one paw in front of his body and stood up to get closer to him. He smelled his hand again. Nope, definitely not one of the humans he’d met that week. He kept sniffling him, the human smelled good. Was that the reason why mommy made the noises Thor liked?

Harry looked at Leah, and she nodded, still smiling at her pup. Harry carefully let his fingers touch the head of the puppy, scratching his black fur. Thor seemed to like it.

“I think he likes you,” Leah whispered, still smiling.

“How do you know?”

Before Leah could answer his question, Thor started licking Harry’s hand.

“Told you,” she laughed.

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Leah offered Harry to walk Thor with her. The pup seemed to like him, and Harry couldn’t hide how much he’d enjoyed playing with Thor.

“Harry, could you do me a favour?”

“Tell me.”

“Can you go to my room and bring Thor’s leash?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem. Where is it?”

“Uh, it’s either on my bed or on the desk.”

“Alright, I’m on it.”

“Thank you!”

 Harry couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he walked upstairs. The floor still creaked at the same spots it did when he came to visit Leah back in their teen years. He wasn’t surprised to find out her room was still the same it had been. She hadn’t even removed the posters from her favourite singers and bands. To his surprise, there was still one of One Direction hanging on the wall, which he remembered signing for her.

He closed the door halfway as he neared the bed, looking for Thor’s leash. According to Leah, it should be red, but Harry couldn’t see anything red on her bed. He couldn’t find it either on her desk. The wood was painted white, so if there were a read leash somewhere on that desk, he should have been perfectly able to see it.

He put aside her laptop, hoping the leash would be behind it, but there was no luck either.

He took a deep breath, about to call Leah, when he saw something red out of the corner of his eye. He looked down on the chair and realised the leash had been there all along. Either it had fallen from the desk at some point, or Leah had left it there and had completely forgotten about it.

It was only when he’d picked up the red leash that he saw Leah’s laptop screen had lit up. Curiosity took the best of him and, although he tried to resist – not much, all must be said –, he peeked through what seemed her work in progress. She’d always been a good writer, he’d always believed in her and he’d always known one day she’d make it, just as she had always encouraged him to pursue his musical career.

At first, he didn’t understand, but all the pieces fell into place as he kept reading and right when he was about to finish, he heard her voice.

“What are you doing?”

He turned his head around to face her; her skin was pale and her eyes were wide. She’d never planned for him to read this. And although he had pretty much an idea why she didn’t want him to read it, he needed to confirm that he wasn’t wrong, that his thoughts and hopes were not misleading him. He held her gaze, her panicked gaze, and it all seemed to slow down to slow motion. He turned his head back to the screen and read the last sentence that appeared on it.

‘And I have the slight suspicion that’s due to the fact that I’ve never been in love with him.’

“You…?” the words died at his lips when he saw the tears running down her cheeks.

“What have you done? You had no right!” she snapped at him. And he knew, he deserved it.

“Leah, please –“

“Get out!”

“Please, let me –“

“I said get out!” she finally screamed.

For the first time in years, he wanted to apologise, like he should’ve done all along. He crossed the room and, in two steps, he was standing beside her.

“I honestly thought it was your new project. I wouldn’t have –,” he began, but he stopped himself, not really knowing what to say, “You always used to show me what you wrote. If I’d known…”

“You lost that right eight years ago.”

Her voice was barely audible, but her words cut like a knife.

                                      ┅┅━━━━━━━ ۵ ━━━━━━━┅┅

Leah was walking down the street, heading to Thor’s favourite park, just around the corner. The puppy was excited to go out every now and then; everything was new to him. Despite being way past dawn, the morning sun didn’t warm up Leah’s skin enough, but she was grateful for the lightest rays of sun she could get. Thor didn’t seem to care that it wasn’t as warm as Italy, he pranced around sniffling all he could find.  

She was mesmerised staring at her dog. If someone had told her that someday she’d become the mommy of such a beautiful being she wouldn’t have believed them. She’d always dreamed of a perfect family, and she’d always imagined her family with a puppy or a kitten; she didn’t want her children to grow scared of animals like it happened to her when she was younger, because they never had pets. Well, they did have a fish, if that counted.

Thor barked and she looked up immediately. He’d already had all the vaccines he needed before he could step outside the house, but it wasn’t a good idea that he approached a dog the status of whom she didn’t know.

To her surprise, it was only a tall man walking down the street. He was wearing a baseball cap, covered by the hood of his sweatshirt. She frowned at Thor. He didn’t usually bark at people on the street.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” she whispered petting the pup.

But Thor didn’t stop. He wiggled his tail and pulled on his leash to head toward the poor man. Leah sighed and followed the pup; an apology already on her lips.

“Sorry, he doesn’t usually bark at people,” she smiled sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” the man’s raspy voice replied.

Her head shot up immediately. She’d recognise that voice anywhere on Earth. Harry crouched down to scratch the pup’s head. Thor seemed very happy to see him.

“H-Harry,” she babbled.

Harry had always liked the way his name sounded in her lips. That was the reason why he couldn’t resist the urge to look at her. She didn’t seem upset anymore, she was rather surprised to find him here.

“Hi, Leah.”

“What are you –?” she began, “It’s 8 AM –,”

“I went for a run,” he shrugged, standing up from his crouching position.

“Oh, I see,” Leah breathed out.

They stood there in silence, staring at Thor, who still seemed to want Harry’s attention all for himself.

“Leah, I –“

Harry didn’t even know where to begin. He wanted to say only so many things to her. He wanted to explain himself, he wanted to let her know the truth. He wanted to erase the look of pain in her eyes whenever she looked at him.

Leah didn’t say anything. She waited for him to go on. Maybe the tiny bit of good weather she was getting for the first time since she landed in England put her in a good mood. She saw the way he rubbed the back of his neck and she could tell he was nervous about this.

“Can we talk?” he pleaded, his voice almost trailing away.

“Let’s sit down,” she offered.

Harry’s body relaxed instantly and he let out a soft sigh of relief. He hadn’t planned on coming across her, but they lived quite nearby, so it was bound to happen eventually. Might as well sort it out now.

They sat down on a bench bathed by sunlight. Thor found his spot on Leah’s lap, and she silently thanked him for that. She could use a distraction to ease her nerves, and scratching the fur behind his ears seemed perfect to keep her busy enough to remain calm, but still paying attention to what Harry had to say.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

Harry almost flinched at her words. Leah’s voice was sweet and smooth, as if she were talking to any other friend. As if they hadn’t argued like they did a few days ago.

“I believe I owe you an apology.”

Leah’s head turned instantly in his direction. She would have never imagined she’d hear these words coming from him.

“Oh, really? What for?” she began, no longer able to control her anger, “For playing with me? For kissing me completely out of context and then rejecting me? Or was it maybe for all the pity looks you gave me ever since I told you how I really felt? Oh, wait, even better! For the sudden way you stopped talking to me or caring about me!” she snapped at him, her eyes glowing with all these bottled feelings she’d been keeping for so long, “Or are you just sorry that you got caught peeking at my most intimate thoughts?”

“How did this happen?” Harry whispered, more to himself than for her to hear, but she heard him anyway, “How did I let this happen?”

His sad eyes found hers and the image he saw was gut wrenching. An endless amount of tears began falling from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks, and he could tell how much she was struggling not to start sobbing right then and there when he saw the way her lower lip was trembling.

He hesitated whether to wipe her eyes or not, he was scared she’d reject him. He’d seen her cry more times than he would’ve liked her to, but despite her pain, she could always draw a smile for him. This time, it was his fault that Leah felt so broken.

Before he could stretch his arm out to her, she spoke again:

“Did you even know that my mom had a relapse?”

He froze on the spot. He knew she’d been through hell the first time her mom got ill, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would’ve been for her to relive that nightmare.

“I didn’t –“ he began.

“No, of course you didn’t know,” and this time she smiled; but it was not the sweet smile she’d always saved up for him, this one was bitter; broken.

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. It happened two years ago, anyway.”

“I’m so very sorry, Leah.”

“You already said that,” she looked away, “Apologies are never gonna fix this.”

“I wish you would’ve told me, I would’ve been there for you, you know that.”

“Oh, yeah? And what was I supposed to say? Hi Harry, we haven’t talked for years but lend me your shoulder to cry on because my mom’s got cancer again?”

“I would’ve been there for you,” he grabbed her chin between his index and thumb and forced her to look at him.

Leah’s heart broke down a little bit more when her eyes finally found his and she saw the tears. He was crying too. She finally sighed, not being able to be mad at him anymore. Seeing him this way removed something inside her.

“Look,” she began, “It’s pointless that we keep pointing our fingers at each other. No one’s to blame. We both made mistakes and we can’t turn back time. Let’s leave it at that.”

“No,” he denied, shaking his head. Leah’s brows rose high in surprise, “I am to blame, and I’ve known it for a long time now,” he paused, trying to get his thoughts in order, “I never should’ve kissed you that night, Leah.”

When she thought she was broken beyond repair, he managed to shatter her completely.

“Then why did you?” she was crying uncontrollably now, “Why did you kiss me?” she pushed him, but Harry was faster and grabbed her hand, keeping it pressed against his chest.

“Because I’m an arrogant son of a bitch,” he offered her a sad smile, quoting one of the lyrics on his new album, “And because I was so blinded by losing Hannah, that I couldn’t see who was standing in front of me.”

“I see,” Leah accepted, with a weak voice.

“Funny thing,” he added, not letting go of her hand yet, waiting for her to look up at him again, “I could never forget that kiss, despite telling myself night and day that it had been a mistake.”

“What do you mean?” she frowned, utterly confused.

“I mean that you’ve always been the one, but the timing was wrong.”

His words echoed through her head until they finally settled, until she finally understood. Harry saw the moment she realised. Her eyes opened wide, and they shined just like they used to.

“Harry, don’t get my hopes up if this isn’t going to happen,” she stated bluntly.

“But it is. If you’d take me, of course.”

“This isn’t going to work. Not after all of this, not after all these years and –,”

“Let us try,” he pleaded her.

Her silence was almost killing him, but the truth was, Leah didn’t know what to say. It was too much to process, her emotions, feelings and thoughts were all over the place. Cautiously, she raised a hand to his face. She didn’t remember his stubble; he couldn’t grow anything that resembled a beard back then.

Harry leaned his head against Leah’s hand, still staring at her. Her fingertips tickled his temple when she slowly slid them up to his hair, almost as if she was afraid he’d disappear at any given moment. She took one of the curls that escaped his baseball cap between her fingers and marvelled at its softness. He’d grown into such a wonderful man. There were no traces of the kid he once had been, except for those dimples that had always fascinated her.

He turned his head a bit to kiss her wrist, and Leah knew right then and there that she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

“Okay,” she agreed in a shaky voice.

“Okay?” his eyes shot up to find hers once more and a smile began to draw in his face.

“Yes, okay,” she nodded, still not believing this was actually happening. Harry was now showing his full smile, dimples and all, and she couldn’t help but reciprocate, “Let us try,” she whispered, echoing his words.

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“Come on, let me read it. I didn’t really get the chance when you interrupted me last time.”

“The fact that we’re dating now doesn’t give you the right to read that letter, Harry,” she rolled her eyes at him.

“Pretty please?” he insisted, “Thor says he wants to read it too,” Harry took the pup in his arms and pouted exaggeratedly. How was she supposed to say no to that?

“Ugh, fine!” She finally gave in.

Harry offered Leah that shy smile she’d just discovered he could do and that she liked so much, and kissed her lips briefly before he took her laptop from her desk and lay down on her bed, pulling it over his lap and scratching Thor’s fur, who lay down beside him, with his free hand.

Maybe I’m just sensitive today; maybe I've got plenty of time to overthink. Maybe every fucking time I talk to you I fall again into the rabbit hole.

To say I miss you is an understatement, when I put the world around me on hold and I dare stop to think of you. What are eight years of distance when you've been there for me when I've needed you most? Since you came into my life, you've always been there.

And it fucks me over; you cannot even begin to imagine how much it fucks me over that we used to go for a beer with your parents and now I can barely share one with you. I used to tell you everything, EVERYTHING. And now it almost seems as if we were strangers.

Time goes by, people change, relationships cool down. I get that. But not with you, please. Not you.

I don't even know if this is platonic anymore, if what really happens is that I keep doing everything in my power to hold on to the memory of what it was, to hold on to what I wish it would have been.

I didn't lie when I said I would always leave that door open for you. Seems that no matter how many years go by, I feel again like the 16-year-old teenager I was when I met you; like the 18-year-old woman I became with you by my side.

I still remember what my mom's aunt said about you, just a couple of minutes after you'd left the funeral home when my grandma passed away. I told her you were just a friend, which in a way had always been true. But I saw, in the way her eyes shined, she was telling me the truth when her lips dropped the words 'Don't ever let him go, there are very few friendships like the one you have.’

Do you want to know what's worst of it all? That I already knew; I've always known. I was so lucky to find you that I don't know why I let you go.

We might very scarcely see each other, yes; we might scarcely talk to each other nowadays… But I know you'd be lying to me and you'd be lying to yourself if you told me things have not changed.

And this bittersweet feeling provides the perfect balance between feeling hurt and feeling touched. It hurts because I know we're never going back to that place, and it touches me because I wouldn't be where I am today if it were not for you. You were much more than I possibly deserved, you were a shoulder to cry on and an endless source of smiles.

In fact, I can't help but wonder what happened, what changed. I know sometimes there's no explanation, I know there are always a lot of factors and issues, and I know that trying to look for a reason will only become a big headache that's going to lead me nowhere.

I don't blame you, not even me. But you got to know me better than anyone else and you know how my mind works. That hasn't changed a bit.

As of today, both you and me may be different people, but I know deep down still lives the crazy young girl that used to make wrong decisions, the one you always listened to, helped and protected, in your own way.

I am still that stupid girl that writes corny stuff when she's overwhelmed by her own emotions, despite pretending to be tough on the outside. I am still the same stupid girl that gets emotional and cries whenever she writes, and that she doesn't care if it's cheesy, because every single word written here it's the truth.

Although, there are some things that have actually changed, you know? As time passed, I stopped doing it. I write pieces like this plenty of times, I pour out all of these feelings and emotions and lock them away; most of them never see the light. Maybe it's the pile of disappointment I carry on my back.

It's probably the same that's going to happen with these words, just like it happened two years ago for New Year’s Eve. You remember it, don't you? It was the first time we'd seen each other after years of being apart. We promised we'd see each other in no time, we promised it wouldn't happen again, that we wouldn't let so much time pass before we encountered each other again. I guess we were never good at keeping our word.

I once was brave enough to tell you how I really felt. You promised that nothing would change; I promised that I didn't need to stay away from you. I guess we both lied that day.

I imagine that you must have forgotten all of this, but it still haunts me those days when I feel weaker. Especially when we finally speak to each other again and all of the memories fall on me like an iced water bucket and I drown in them.

I've wondered more times than I can recall, whether it was mere whim or if I really felt something else; if I mixed my feelings or it was one of my most clearheaded moments, because up to date, every single time I see you I still feel the same.

If I think it through with a clear head, I've never actually managed to fill the hole you left. Life's guided me through other paths and I found a new best friend, if you want to call it like that. But he could never be like you.

And I have the slight suspicion that's due to the fact I've never been in love with him.