#only to take his meds today and go oh SHIT thats right. life is beautiful lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arthurflecksgirl · 4 years

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Hi sweety❤️ Can I have a fic where Arthur helps x reader who's having a panick attack? him calming her down, cuddling her... thank you so much 😘

My dear friend. Thank you sooooo much for your request. I really really hope you like the result.

Summary: You`re greateful for how far you and Arthur had come in your relationship, how much progress he made to experience true happiness. But then you discover one of his journal entries. Is he still in the same dark place he was before? Just the thought of him suffering is giving you a panic attack. But Arthur is right there with you...

The dim light from the tv screen was the only light that filled the living room. Murray Franklin was talking to a well known comedian. You watched Arthur resting on the couch. He was falling asleep during the live show, even though he was looking forward to this episode all day, he was so tired, his eyes got heavy when Ellis Draine and his Jazz Orchestra started playing already.

"One day" you thought watching him breathe in and out like it was the easierest thing to do when you suffered from waht he had been through. One day he will be sitting on Murrays couch and telling his own jokes. And his idol will be proud of him like a father. Because he deserved it. He deserved the world.

Arthur seemed at peace with himself sleeping. That was new. Which made you proud of how far you two have come in your relationship. He was getting better.You felt it every morning waking up, receiving your good morning kiss from his coffee stained lips and cigarette tasting breath. He was making baby steps but looking at it now, over a year later it was a total different world he was living in. The one you created together. Ever since you met him you wanted to cure him. To support and comfort him through everyday life. To help him out of his mindset which was all that he had known since he was little.

People kept telling you that it was impossible to heal wounds like his. To heal someone that experienced his kind of trauma. That all he needed was proffessional help. But you knew that they missed out at something. Just because he needed his meds didnt mean that love wasnt the key for his cure. You knew that there were some scars hidden inside of him, buried so deep that it would take years to get through and be able to work on that. But you also knew that being loved was the only thing in this world that could ease Arthurs pain and make him the man he always wanted to be. He was destined to be.

And every single day spent together was proof that he was making progress. His smile became more and more genuine. His laughing fits didnt happen as often anymore and if so they wouldnt last that long because you would hold him and help him breathe until it was over. He also told you about his journal entries and how they changed. His therapist was also seeing the changes. He was talking about how much more poetry and beautiful thoughts filled the pages.

You gently stroke his hair. Watching him sleep always felt pretty intimate to you. He was so vulnerable and unaware of his beauty. But you knew that even in his sleep he was aware of another thing- your love. Thats why he was even able to get some sleep.

You took another close look at his face. You could never get enough of him. It was risky to give him a kiss on his closed eyelids. Arthur had a very light sleep and could wake up any second but there was no way to fight the urge to do so. His eyelid fluttered under the soft touch of your bottom lip, but he didnt wake. You let your index finger travel over his dark eyebrows. They were shaped so perfectly, matching his piercing eyes and the slight circles underneath them. His body was still stressed out from work. His fragile body which was trying so hard not to break down while starving.

His stomach problems caused by his meds was another thing you had to work through. You looked at the bowl on the table. he almost finished his soup today, which was a good sign. You smiled, got up from your knees and walked to his desk to get the empty cups of coffee from the morning. It was time to make the dishes.

But the moment you grabbed the cups his journal distracted you. It was opened. You wondered about his last entries, the ones he wanted to show you because he wrote some new poems lately.

It took you a moment to think about if it was even okay to have a look at the opened page but it was already too late. One sententence was marked, the letters thicker than the rest of the written words. It caught your eye without a warning. And when you read it, your heart stopped for a second.

"I just hope my death makes more cents than my life"

Why?

Why the hell would he write something cruel like that?

The letters started to blurr through your tears. One tear was falling upon the page. Right on the word HOPE.

Shit. Now he would notice that you came near this page. You nerveausly grabbed a handkerchief and pressed it on the spot where the tear was soaking through the page. It was too late, making it look even worse.

You started to cry , throwing the handkerchief on the floor.

Why?

Yo thought he was getting better. There was so much proof.

Did he felt like his life was worthless?

Didnt make any sense?

Was he feeling like all of this wasnt making sense?

You thought you helped him.

Was it al in your mind? His proress? Him becoming a happier version of himself? Was it all a lie you told yourself?

The possibility of Arthurstill being the same tortured soul as when you met him simply broke your heart.

Why was a beautiful and gentle soul like him suffering so much? How cruel can the world be to him?

Was he still wishing he was dead? Was he still lying in bed at night, fantasizing about ending his own life? Would he ever hurt himself again? Risking to being locked up at Arkham, so there was no chance to share a bed together? Just visits with him being handcuffed on the other side of the table? Was there still a chance he was that unhappy inside?

Tears fell like rain.

The pain inside your heart grew with every thought that crossed your mind. If life was still torture to him, why wouldnt he talk about this to you? Didnt he trusted you enough? Was he embarrassed about how he felt? Or was it simply because he didnt wanted you to get worried about his condition?

It was all too much.

You started to feel like your throath was getting tighter. Like the walls were closing in. Everything inside of you screamed. There was this nameless fear inside of your guts. Possesing you, hurting you. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Dizzyness overcame you with all its power. Cold sweat. All of the sudden the happiness you felt while watching him sleep was being sucked out of your body. And now all you knew was fear. Liek it was the only emotion left in the world. Pure, naked fear in its rawest form.

A panic attack.

You had experienced this before but never this intense.

You sat down on the chair, trying not to look at the opened journal again. It hurt so much. All of it did. Your body. Your heart. Mostly your heart. And your head. Both heavy from tears and the thought of Arthur being suicidal.

Your breathing got heavier as you started to sobb.

And then you heard Arthurs footsteps. His naked feet on the floor. You woke him up. He was finally resting and you woke him. This made you feel even worse.

"Oh my god Y/N, darling. What happened?" He noticed your tears and heavy breathing.

"Dont worry....Arhur....please....just go back to sleep okay? You need your sleep. You`ve been working hard today...."

Arthur checked your pulse "Oh shit, your heart is racing. Did you took any medication? "

"No..."

"Did something else happen?" He checked your forehead, noticed your shaking hands. "Looks like you`re having a panic attack. I know the symptoms very well. I had so many in the past when I woke up from nightmares."

You nodded. Still sobbing like a baby. Arthur gave you one of his handkerchiefes and started to stroke your hair "Oh darling, I kow this feels terrible. But it will pass. Just try to breathe. Breathe with me okay. Remember when you helped me breathe during my laughing fits? I will do the same with you now okay?"

"Okay"

Arthur lifted you up and carried you to the couch.

"Is that okay? Is it comfortable?" you nodded. He was so caring it broke your heart. He cared so much about you, while inside he was suffering from so much pain.

He positioned himself behind you, resting both of his hands on your tummy and told you to breathe in and out like he did. Until you felt your breath becoming one with his. Just as calm and deep.

"Good" he whispered, his gentle fingers under your shirt. He knew that skin on skin contact helped calming you down.

"You`re doing great" his voice was everything you needed to hear.

"Oh Arthur....I feel like I cant breathe...."

"Shhhhhhtt.....baby I know. I know how it feels. Your body is telling you lies. You can breathe. Just do it with me."

"You felt Arthurs chest lifting up and down, his warm breath in your neck. He was everything to you. You needed him to be happy.

Arthur placed thoughtful kisses all over your neck. As soft as a butterflies wings. You tried to concentrate on the details. His long , dark eyelashes crossing the spot behind your ears. The tip of his nose tickeling you. His muffled "I love you`s".

"I`m sorry I woke you up"

"Dont be!"

"There was this sudden fear coming over me. It was like....I thought I was dying."

"I´m right here with you Y/N. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise!"

You nodded. Knowing he was right. Nothing could harm you with Arthurs arms around you. You just wished it was the same the other way around. Wasnt it the same?

His journal said it wasnt. His written words hitting you like a knife.

"Do you know what triggered this?" He asked you, while his hand was caressing your chest.

Should you tell him? He would notice the wet spot on his journal page anyway.

"Arthur I am so scared to tell you this but...I was ...oh god....I was looking at your opened diary page. It was lying on teh table when I was getting the coffee cups and there was this sentence that caught my eyes......" you started to sobb uncontrolable.

"What page?" he asked "Please dont cry. Ohhhhhh please ...." he pulled you closer to his chest so his heartbeat was pressed against you.

"You wrote....."I just hope my death makes more cents than my life...." Arthur. This hit me so hard. I didnt knew you still felt like this. I dont know.....what to say....I`m just.......oh Arthur....." you pressed yourself against him as if your life depended on it. Arthurs white shirt was now soaked with tears.

"Ohhh nooo darling. That was my old journal. My therapist wanted to bring it back to her to proof how much progress I made since I met you!"

You loosened your embrace to look him in the eyes "W-What?"

"Yeah" he shrugged "I just marked the darkest pages to see how far we have come and stopped at this one before going to sleep."

The weight of the world was falling off your shoulders "Really?"

"Yes.....oh Y/N I am so sorry you had to go through these emotions just because I was so stupid to leave my old journal lying on the table. "

"You are not stupid Arthur!"

"Well this time I was"

"It was my fault....I shouldnt have looked at the page in the first place".

The air was finally coming back. Your body was starting to relax again.

Arthur held you close in his arms "That was the old me. And yes sometimes I´m still having dark thoughts but its just.....echoes from the past. Its not part of our reality anymore. Its just ghosts. They`re not real. Just trying to tell me lies. So I am not listening to them . I´m listening to you. To your words of love and comfort. I`m save with you. And you are save with me. Remember?"

"I remember Arthur. I love you so much!"

"I love you more"

"Thats impossible" you smiled, kissing his upper lip.

Arthur rested his head in the crook of your neck whispering "If I`ve learned one thing from being loved, its this: Nothing`s impossible - with you in my arms".

@impulsiveclown @will-you-be-there @jokerownsmysoul @missjoker96 @arthurskitten @lynnesm @nonnymousse @gwynplaine89 @ajokeformur-ray@damnrightobsessedwithim @sgtsavoytruffle @duhliriouss @flowerglitterwoman @thirstforfleck @spookyhome @iartsometimes @you-cant-cry-in-here @bustafatclownnut @jokerismyhubbie @check-out-this-joker @darknessisafriend @arthurhappyclown @neon-umbrella-for-stella @call-me-harley-quinn @arthurjokersgirl

@aarthurfleckk @mylovelycrazyworld @clownalog @ajokerfangirl @the-one-who-is-chaos @sabrinaeileensnape @raven-romanoff

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belovedfinch · 6 years

Text

Re-watch of Veronica Mars & Movie

“I used to be cool” -keith “when” - veronica

lol veronica putting a bong in logan’s locker

“i suddenly feel like I’m in a scene from the outsiders” - wallace

“be cool soda pop” - veronica

I love that my favourite book is referenced

“the people you love let you down” - veronica

I forgot paris hilton was on veronica mars

Duncan and his antidepressants and side effects and hallucinations of lily, I never liked duncan but please never go cold turkey off prescribed meds!

the fashion 😂

when veronica was 12 and logan first saw her he said he thought she was hot - love at first sight ? 😜

dude where’s my car joke

“change had a tendency to walk up and punch me in the face” - veronica

you can tell logan is afraid of his dad straight away

his mum sits on the couch drinking wine while her son is getting belted cool cool cool cool....

Never underestimate the size of my cahoeneys😂Logan is my fav

“what is so great about living?” - Logan

Mac is awesome, I forgot her name was cindy, I named my cat after my favourite barbie doll whose name was Cindy r.i.p beautiful ❤️

“I guess we remember it differently” - Logan, me to my brother about our childhood

leighton meester, monique coleman from high school musical, Adam Scott!

logan put his gum under a chair in the police office! yuck

“there is also a tribe that worships Donald trumps hair” - veronica

“what, did he loose a puka shell?” - weevil about logan😂

when logan starts crying in the lobby after he mistakes his step-sister as his mum😭

meg with her pretty in pink dress up for the 80s valentines day dance and duncan is ducky❤️

I wish my school had an 80s theme dance, but I would be too indecisive about who to go as tbh.

“whoever said it’s a mans world, didn’t know how easy it is to be a girl” - veronica, you can tell a man wrote that line

horned mascot from riverdale - veronica and calls herself betty when she goes to the other school

kinda forgot how relatable veronica is, loner, pushes people away

that black beanie with the flames

the flashbacks or hallucinations that show lily speak to people/mostly veronica, remind me of allison in pretty little liars

aussie guy - from home and away i think

never really liked duncan

logan punching the fbi agent

love how mac and keith both say “earth to mars”

logan step-sister trina when she asks him for money reminds me of my brother

veronica had a slider and so does wallace in the second season, my sister had a purple one and i wanted it so bad

logan’s smirk at veronica when she found his step-sisters boyfriend

wow aaron’s father being an abuser, then himself, glad the cycle stopped with logan

thats amore playing whilst aaron beats up his daughters abusive boyfriend

I always felt bad for leo as much as I love LoVe. Veronica basically just used him

sean from degrassi is on veronica mars

“i like what i see in him when he’s with you” - aaron echolls

I think i could love her plays as veronica stands logan up on his boat

“the thought of you breeding? ugh” - logan to dick

logan’s allergic to shell fish

“All i care about is you” - logan

“just evaporate or something” - logan

why didn’t aaron get rid of the tapes? did he not think someone would find his secret ?

sucks that veronica spent her savings for college on her mum to go to rehab and her mum didn’t even last

logan on the bridge where his mother committed suicide, about to jump

when keith saves veronica from the fridge and his on fire and his in a gurney and says “who’s your daddy?”

I’m glad she realises her mum as much as she loves her she is better off without her, that’s what alcoholics do, they are liars.

“don’t forget about me veronica” - lily

greenhouse academy has the same cliffhanger as season 1 of veronica mars

logan shows up at 3am beat up and framed for stabbing someone, then he hears on the radio that his father killed his girlfriend and that his father was sleeping with her

it’s was always duncan right? breaking up with logan making any excuse, all because you finally find out your not brother and sister. ugh

like logan said everyone in his life was gone, the one person he opened up to. also left him. Not cool veronica

the bus crash reminds me of degrassi

“you must chill” veronica says to a girl that has just lost her father in a bus crash and is being bullied and blamed just because her dad had mental health issues and the good ol sheriff feeds the press that it might have been a suicide attempt

curly dude washed up on the beach with veronicas name on his hand, is that like twin peaks, or the guy in australia that was found on the beach with something on his hand but they he had no ID and all the tags were off his clothes

PLL writers should take notes on veronica mars on how to tie up loose ends

“what conspiracy have you pulled out of your ass today”- logan

“my day is complete veronica mars has accused me of evil” - logan, as he twists the ends of his imaginary moustache

veronica is very selfish if you think about it, she asks for favours all the time from her friends but she is never there to hear their problems, she thinks the world does actually revolve around her.

lol logan in the line-up

eye roll aaron blaming duncan and then saying he snapped

cameo by that chick off of america’s next top model

aaron got a psychology degree in jail lol

omg able coonz dying thinking his only daughter is alive but she got killed and shoved into an ice machine holder thingy at a stingy motel

lol when veronica lays down onto logan thinking its duncan

“3rd wheel beginners guide” - logan

“nobody likes an eager beaver” logan to cassidy, was rob waiting a whole season to make that joke and thats why the nickname beaver was given to him?

singer maybe billy idol?

I feel like megs death was a crappy ending, like did she just die so that once again duncan and veronica are split up because of circumstance and they are star-crossed true lovers (eye roll)

“whats your poison” - veronica (breakfast club reference)

“sorry we are all out of liquid evil” - veronica to logan

michael cera

when logan pretends to get burned by the bible when interning for woody

gia says logan uses humour and sarcasm to something something, dance episode

we used to be friends along time ago, but i haven’t thought of you lately at all

logan not taking any of his fathers bull shitting when he was on trial on the stand

“So, apparently, if you're handsome and famous enough, you can just lie under oath, and that's cool.” - veronica

when woody finds veronica on the computer he is creepy af

can we just talk about how much logan went through and how mentally that would fuck you up, yet he never resorted to violence

“it was worth getting taped to a poll” - wallace

lol veronicas dad when she graduates

dicks “trust me I’m rich” shirt

keith says “Carol channings still alive isn’t she?” and I’m like no she died 6 days ago

season 3

don’t like the new intro

“Back ups in charge? what about the bitch he’s been seeing” - V

WHY THE F IS KEITH HELPING CASABLANCAS WHEN CASIDY HIS SON RAPED HIS DAMN DAUGHTER

MAC “hey i know that guy’ (wallace)

there is no one else, i only want you - logan

fracking

victoria from twilight is in a sorority

I love when logan comes over for dinner and he just smirks at keith and veronica’s banter

i forgot logan had a brother

lol the clerk calls condoms “raincoats” so does my great aunty

diana from glee is on here

veronica is pretty selfish, like her dad was in a car accident and she is annoyed and disapproving of him having a relatioship , she can’t just trust logan?!? ugh

but for logan to run away from the burning motel, it’s just what douchebag pukashell wearing logan would do, not the actual logan

holy crap veronica was SOO damn lucky logan was there at that moment she would be baled and raped, like is once not enough for gods sake?

guy from the nanny

when logan calls veronica from the other side of the cafeteria and she ignores it and he is basically crying :(

logan and i broke up , “are you okay?” keith, “it was unexpected” -v wtf bitch you didn’t trust him, you had a fight, how was it unexpected

dude from waynes world

I love the hooker story line, max & wendy aww

I’ve always hated maddison far out she is a piece of work

ep13 “where are your heads?” basketball coach, me “Obviously not in the game”

lol how dick locks logan on the balcony

logan is yoshi in mario cart!! so am i

“how is it you have so many friends? you don’t even like people” v to l

Lafayette from true blood is a child solider

why did logan invite parker to be with him over break when he obviously wasn’t happy or didn’t want her to go, was it just to prove veronica wrong that “that’s just the way he is” like v said is true, to prove that he has changed.

like it just seems logan and veronica are denying their feelings for each other

that writer from once upon a time is in here, he is in everything

mars uses venus razor

oh the logan piz fight…

such a crap ending to an amazing show

movie

I just love the scene where logan is leaning up against the car like jake from 16 candles (i did post a comparison of the two ages ago)

I like how logan went out with the crazy chic, he was so nonchalant about it, because he wanted to pay veronica back for coming back to neptune when he called even though they hadn’t spoken like 10 years.

kind upset that it wasn’t leighton meester that played carrie

comeback always

logan isn’t supposed to remember the epic quote because he was drunk?

I have so much love for logan, I relate to him so much and it was honestly the best day of my life when I met Jason ( i also met percy and michael) he was so kind to me and I gave him a letter I had written and he was just so down to earth.

How else is pumped for the return?!?

#veronica mars #veronica mars thoughts #kristen bell #jason dohring #percy daggs iii #michael muhney #enrico colantoni #queued

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weareallfallengods · 6 years

Text

Survival

Writing prompt:

If you’re over 25 and haven’t done something remarkable, you are hunted down and killed. Some people invent things. Some make cures for diseases. Others become established members of their community. You’re pushing 30, and somehow not dead yet, even though you cant think of a single thing you’ve done thats remarkable in any way. Why aren’t you dead?

I write for adults about adult themes with adult language. I try to tag possible triggers (but I know I'm not going to get all of them), so if violence or implied death or cussing bothers you, you'll probably want to find a different author.

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

Somehow, that date came up again. Not quite sure how, but somehow, the number circled on my shitty wall calendar with the coffee splatter on it managed to be today. Again. It's been doing that for 5 years now.

At first I wanted to be a surgeon- save people's lives, make a difference, all that shit. Yeah, I was caught up in the hype for a while too. Just like everyone. Thought I'd make some ground-breaking discovery and change the world. Just like everyone. And then, at 22, I flunked out of med school. That was it. Dream over, kaput, fin.

When I opened my termination letter, it was like reading a death sentence. 10 years of prep and study down the drain. 3 years left. 3 years, and no idea what to do. No clue what I could do to save my own life after all those years learning how to save others.I drank for a solid month. I dont even remember that month now. My only memento from it is an entire skip of liquor bottles. It's a miracle I didn't die from alcohol poisoning. Not that I didn't try.

See, I was afraid. Scared, actually. Terrified would be more accurate, if I'm honest. I knew I only had 3 years left until they came for me. Unless I managed to do something extraordinary within the next 3 years, they'd come for me, and the only thing that would remain is a 2 paragraph obituary in the local paper, followed by a vacancy announcement. When you're suddenly forced to confront your own imminent demise, and see every dream, hope and aspiration you'd had evaporate, right in front of your eyes, its perfectly natural to drown that in a swimming pool of vodka.

But then, after a month of drowning, and a week of curing a hangover that would make Satan shudder, I got angry. Like Bruce Banner angry. As I was leaving an all night diner, the notice board caught my eye. Having nothing better to do with my life, I stood there for a while just reading every single card in detail, every single lost cat, every used car, every 5k charity run. And then I saw it. And I thought, "You know what? Fuck it, why not. I've spent all this time trying to do one thing that I've never actually done just whatever I feel like, had hobbies, anything really. Why the fuck not."

And that's how I ended up 2 days later in some shity warehouse district, rolling around on a mat with some dude I didnt even know, sweating and swearing profusely and having the time of my life. "Sasha's Self Defense" it said on the small, weathered and rusted sign on the brick wall out front, next to a door that looked like it had been transported straight from the proverbial gulag.

I'd naively thought this was going to be one of those Karate Kid knock offs for some reason when I first arrived. Sasha soon disabused me of that notion. In fact, when he saw I'd brought a new gi in a duffle bag, he laughed so hard he had to slap his ass down on a rickety folding chair just to keep breathing. Once he calmed his mirth at my expense, he let me know in a no-nonsense, 'I'm an old-timer and seen some shit in my day' heavily accented tone that this would be a class that focused on survival at all costs. "No bullshit wax on-wax off," were his exact words I believe.

And boy was he right. When I told him I'd set aside my year's tuition for lesson payments, well, wouldn't you know it, I became his most prized pupil; I quickly learned this was not a good thing. It meant 14 hours a day of the most humiliatingly punishing activity ever dreamed up by Moscow's Finest. I couldnt even move the morning after my first day. But somehow I limped my battered frame down to the bus stop and was only an hour late. Ha, only. Sasha seemed to take it as a personal insult. The only thing he hated less than sloppiness was tardiness it seemed. Apparently the 10th Circle of Hell was reserved for those who dared be late. And he made you earn your way out of that circle.

His only saving grace was fairness. If I had to suffer, at least I wasnt alone. Well, at first anyway. The few other students that suffered his wrath along side me doing slavic folk dances with wrist and ankle weights very quickly learned that this wasn't the type of class they had thought it was and soon I was alone with Sasha.

On the days I did well, I got treated to pierogies. Oh man, I lived for those pierogies. They were made by angels and served by someone I can only describe as if Jesus came back as a woman. Who was Russian. And spoke even less english than Sasha, if that was possible. His sister was as completely opposite to that sadistic maniac as it was possible to be and still be a human being. Where he was loud, she was soft. Where he was tough, she was gentle. Where he was strict, she was generous, even indulgent. Blonde to his brunette. Slim to his barrel chest. Cousin by marriage, I think they said. Well, relatives of some kind anyway. And she was the only one who could make him laugh. And when he laughed, the whole block knew! He was just that loud, that boisterous, with everything he did.

But I loved his little Anya. Just like everyone. But like in a wholesome, mom-ish kind of way. I loved her because I got to sit for an hour when she was around. Because she"d always tuck a to-go container of pierogies into my bag. Because she'd chide Sasha for pushing me too hard. In short, she was an angel.

But I have to hand it Sasha- in 4 months, he took a scrawny bookworm into someone who could pose for Men's Health. In 6 months, I could beat Ivan, his partner, in 5/10 sparring matches. In 7 months, I ran a marathon. In 9, he had me enter a triathalon. And I made it into the top 50 out of 500 entrants. Not too bad if I say so myself. In 12 months, I was beating Ivan almost every time.

And that's when the other Ivan showed up. After a year, Sasha decided it was time I learned weaponry. After all, no real fight was fair, he said. And Ivan (another cousin? Sasha had one heck of an extended family) instructed me on everything from broken beer bottles, to knives and pool cues. And my medical training paid off, because more often than not, I was the one stitching myself up if training got a little rough that day.

Eventually, I moved into the gym. Not sure how it happened, but I think I just got too tired to leave one day and never really left. Sasha didnt seem to mind since it meant I wasnt ever late again. Plus the coffee he imported was the best thing ever. Like it was so good that's probably the Extraordinary Thing he did to live as long as he had.

The days just melted together, into one long symphony of beautiful exhaustion and physical torment, as I poured myself into the first activity I could remember doing purely because I wanted to, something that numbed the dread of the finality of my life expectancy.

But then one day, one specific day, the one I'd been dreading in the back of my mind for a year came around.

They found me.

I guess they were a little slow in finding me, not surprising since I'd basically just disappeared from my old life, no forwarding address type thing. It wasnt intentional, it just sort of happened, what with me diving head first into something purely for me, without the thought of doing it for someone else. But they found me. Just like they find everybody.

See, it doesnt matter if you try to run, if you move, or change your name. They always find you eventually. I just hadn't thought about it in a long while. That year was the first time since I was probably 14 that I'm hadn't thought about the Gardeners. I guess that's why it surprised me so much.

Yeah, Gardeners. I dont know who came up with the name, in guess some misguided attempt at a positive PR spin bullshit to pass off squads of government assassins who's only job was to track down the NCs of the world and eliminate them. Sorry, NCs- Non-Contributors; the people who hit their expiration date without doing something noteworthy, something that was deemed to "advance or bolster the Human Condition" to borrow a phrase from the civics classes we had to take every fucking year of school. A cutesy sounding name that was supposed to make the government sound like a benevolent old couple pulling weeds from their garden of humanity. The worst lies always sound the sweetest, dont they?

And I was now 25.

It happened a few weeks after my birthday. Just another routine day for me, going for a light 5k run after my soak in a mineral bath. Light rain, most of the streetlights out, the few lights on in the warehouse district reflected beautifully off the streets. That's why I ran at night, all the colors changed that normally bleak neighborhood into something beautiful. It was just one little thing to balance out the harshness of reality, and I reveled in it.

I don't actually remember what happened exactly. I do recall seeing a suspiciously conspicuous homeless guy huddled under a loading dock awning, and then just a flash of movement from the corner of my eye. I think it happened really quickly; at least that's what Sasha said the next morning as he was making arrangements for me to visit another cousin of his "back in the old country". It could have been. God, after seeing the bodies around me in the aftermath, I hope, for their sake, that it was fast. 5 bodies. All still. I still remember my breath turning to blue fog, blurring the details of them. Helping me to be able to pretend I didn't see the blood mixing with the rain and oil, spreading out over the concrete like a macabre inversion of the cloudy sky above.

I'm glad they wore masks. It's bad enough having that scene burned into my brain forever, without specific people's faces being etched there as well. I'm glad I dont see their faces in my mind every time I close my eyes. I just wish I could still enjoy the rain. They managed to take that from me, even if I'm still breathing, so I guess they didnt completely fail. They just killed a part of my soul instead. But hey, there's plenty of people that don't like the rain, right? But I bet they don't smell blood when it does though.

And that was pretty much it. No sirens, no manhunt, nothing. Before I could process what was happening, I was on a bus, headed for "the old country", which, as near as I could tell, looked an awful lot like Pittsburg. Sasha's 'cousin' met me at the bus depot there, a man of very few words. Not as loud as his cousin, Zhena tended to communicate with looks, grunts and shrugs mostly. Same work ethic though.

And then the cycle repeated- 14 months this time before they caught up with me. Too bad that Zhena got caught up in it, he was a great guy. He and I didn't really become close or buddies or anything, but it still hurt to see what happened to him. To what was left of him anyway. The Gardeners definitely were trying to send a message with that. To quote an old wise man, "I didnt want to know, but now I do, and I'm telling you, you dont want to know." And that's coming from someone who was training to become a surgeon, so just trust me on this one.

This time, they were waiting for me. I think they'd planned on Zhena being enough of a distraction that they'd be able to take me out easily, but since since I woke up the next day on the floor of the sparring ring in a too large pool of blood that wasnt my own, I'd say they failed. The difference this time was I was on my own. No 'cousins' to call in favors from. No family I could call because I didnt want them getting a visit from the Gardeners either. I was alone this time.

Weirdly, I was actually OK with that. I'd been surrounded by family, teachers, advisors, tutors for so long that solitude was actually kind of nice. I could hear myself think my own thoughts for the first time in what seemed like forever.

I'm not ashamed to say that I took what little of value there was from Zhena's gym (I knew him well enough to know that Sasha was his only family) so that I could get a seedy hotel for a while. I did at least have the decency to let Sasha know, and that that would be the last he ever heard from me, to keep him out of trouble. Bad enough that 10 people were already dead, I didn't want Sasha or Anya's name added to that list because of me.

And so I vanished. Completely. Sure I travelled, kept studying and training like I had been, but never staying longer than a few months, never using the same name, copying other random people's habits and patterns so I didnt have one of my own for them to track down. Yeah it was cliche, but hey, I figured my dad watching all those spy flicks when I was young had to be good for something, right?

Sometimes I was a baker, sometimes a delivery driver, even a dock hand. Whatever it took to make a buck so I could eat.

I got really good at other things too. Like disposing of bodies. Not really a skill I ever thought I'd want or need, but Necessity is a harsh and demanding teacher. Sadly, my skill as a surgeon came in handy- bodies are easier to get rid of when they're in smaller pieces. And people are easier to turn into bodies when you know how they're put together intimately. Not what I had in mind for my life, but since it was the choice between this or dying, well, I guess I can put up with it.

I suppose that catches us all up to the present, more or less. OK yeah theres a lot that's gone down between Pittsburg and now, but it was all pretty much the same: lather, rinse, repeat. Literally sometimes. Those were the days it felt like there wasnt enough soap in the world to get all the blood off.

So here I am, I'm my single room in Kandahar, staring at the date that had somehow come up again. Every year, they send someone. Usually a team. And I survive. No matter how they come at me, or when or how many. I survive.

And I'm sitting here, staring at the calendar, steaming cup of espresso, just staring, as a light breeze fluttered the corner of the calendar page, sending the orchids dancing in the vase next to it. All I could think is, "How? How does this keep happening? I'm not even supposed to be here, not supposed to be alive."

As I raised my cup of espresso, something slid under my door. "OK that's weird," I said aloud as I stood.

The chair made an ungodly screech as I pushed it back and made my way over to where a small, cream colored envelope sat on the floor, a couple inches from the bottom of the door. It was heavy for it's size, but not because anything was in it, just the paper was that thick. Probably hand-made. It's odd the little things you notice in times of stress. Heavy, rough paper, no postmark, nothing written on the outside, just the flap tucked in, not even sealed. Reminded me of how my mother used to give out birthday cards. I always thought that was a little weird, but it was just one of her quirks that made her even more endearing to everyone.

I sat down a little heavier than I had planned and felt the chair crack a little. There was a single sheet of paper inside, folded in half; I was right- handmade paper. But that wasnt important, what was important was the heavy, blocky hand-written message it contained.

"We've been looking for you for a long time. It has come to my attention that you may have something unique to contribute after all. We may have been too hasty in judging your Ability to be a Contributor. I believe you do actually have a remarkable Ability to Survive. I'd like to speak to you this afternoon in the plaza outside the Blue Mosque. I will be alone, and you can approach me, so as to allay your justifiable suspicions. I will have a silver coffee set on the table in front of me.

I believe we can help each other, if you're willing to listen to my proposition.

-Soon,

Baddar"

Well, this is interesting.

#writing prompt #short story #what if #what would you do #one shot #writeblr #death #language

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deadmantalking117 · 7 years

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DR. FEELGOOD

There's an opiod crisis in America. I read about it everyday. Thousands of people who take narcotics to get high. To blunt the pain of whatever is hurting them. Physically, emotionally, whatever. I don't even pretend to have any kind of solution.. I can only offer you an insiders perspective. My very first experience with the good stuff was right after I got married. I'd had a migraine for the third straight day.. I'd get them several times a year.. but this one wouldn't stop. My mom says enough is enough.. I'm taking you to urgent care. Kat had the kids.. otherwise she'd have driven.. she was concerned by now as well. Never had one last this long. At the urgent care.. the guy checks me out.. "are you allergic to anything?" "Are you ok with a couple of shots.. we'll get you feeling better" Not allergic.. hate shots.. but ok fine Demerol and Thorozine Nectar of the Gods I remember it to this day. Full disclosure time. I'm 24 now.. haven't yet run into the issues that are about to start soon. I dont really drink.. been drunk a handful of times. But I dont drink.. just never cared for it.. don't like the taste, don't like the feeling. I smoked some pot when I was 20-21 but I was always paranoid about getting busted.. plus now I have kids.. and you know what that means.. no money for pot. Tried cocaine a couple times. Kat and I would get a little for "date night". But we're talking birthday or anniversary stuff. So, pretty vanilla for a party guy. Just wasn't much of a chemical romance for me. My how things do change. Demerol and Thorozine No ecstasy so wonderful.. no bliss so complete. I went from being almost blind with pain.. to walking on a cloud.. I floated out the door to mom's station wagon. Such a pretty station wagon! My God.. look at that wood paneling! It sooo beautiful! I opened the door and folded myself in half to get in. Mom says "whatcha doing?" I don't wanna hurt the car by banging into it.. It's so tiny and beautiful... "I think you're covered.. put your feet on the floor.. put on your seatbelt please" Home again after the beautiful magic carpet ride full of neon and colors. In mom's beautiful woody station wagon. I floated thru door.. "Oh my, you look better" Kat laughs You are sooo. Pretty ! You know what would great ? Brownies! And sex!.. and sex brownies! And pizza.. we should have everybody over and BBQ. I'm going to lay down for few minutes, watch a movie.. but then sex brownies! Zzzzzzzz. 2 days later when I started coming around. I honestly have never felt that good in my life. 2 days of being completely pain free.. and floating on clouds. Never before.. certainly not since. The problem with being in chronic pain is this. It's chronic.. that means it NEVER stops. Some days arent too bad. You feel crappy... but honestly.. any person over 40 is familiar with feeling pain every single day. I just got a big headstart from everyone else. A lot of days.. far too many days. The pain is crippling. But most people like me have to figure out how to have a life despite that. So, on we soldier. I'm mid 30's... just really getting bad sick. My doctor is an Internist. The kind of general doctor that does innards. Dr. Feelgood was an amazingly good doctor. Everyone in town knew and loved him. Everything's going wrong all the time.. But Dr Feelgood is working overtime to fix it. I'm in serious pain.. everyday.. all day. But he gives me pain meds. Vicodin, Percocet, fiorinol, demerol, pills, patches, shots. We tried everything. I had access to sleeping pills, xanax, valium. Not all at once of course. But in hefty doses. I was dying.. and I just wanted it to be as pain free as possible. Dr. Feelgood was trying his best. There was a point in my life.. because of the years of taking so many narcotics.. I could take absolutely lethal doses without getting even a little buzz. I could get a migraine.. which at the time was common. Go into the office and get a shot of demerol.. and off to work I'd go. It got rid of the pain ok. But no more highs for poor Steve. The party is long over.. and I'm still always in agony. This was a big reason why I quit everything all at once. For the past 5 years Dr Feelgood has been banging his head against my wall. But we had the opportunity to move to another state.. I'd had my 2nd resection.. so this was as good as it was going to get. Off we go. For the next 3 years.. nothing. Some good days.. some bad.. but no drugs at all. But reality does tend to insert itself. The fact of my life is.. I Have to use narcotics most days..and there are millions of people like me. Used properly they are a miracle for us. Buy there are too many people who see how glamorous its is.. being a drug addict looks like one long party for Steve... lets try it! I do make it look glamorous. The problem today in 2017 is the government is seriously clamping down on legitimate prescriptions for legitimate patients. Every time my doctor prescribes narcotics. She gets a letter from uncle Sam. It tells her all the good drugs she's given out vs. How much other doctors have written. You never want to be on the naughty list. Dont stand out! That means they now have to ration out the good stuff. They can't have several patients getting narcotics. So those of us who have a legitimate reason to take them. Can't always get them. Most doctors practices will not even take you as a patient if you are on narcotics! Wont even talk to you about it. So here's my current nightmare. If I lose my current doctor.. I may not be able to get another.. ever. All because of the opioid epidemic It's happened already.. About 12 years ago.. after my 3rd bowel resection.. my GI. said we could try... Morphine. It's good for guts like yours. It helps with pain.. it causes constipation.. which can balance the scales with the diarrhea you always now have. Cuz of the fact that you have almost no intestines left. But there's rules.. you can only get so many per month. There will never be more. Don't ask. No other drugs from any other doctors. Ever. No drug seeking behavior. Ever. Dont feed it after midnight or get it wet. In 12 years I've never broken the rules. Not once. But I had started going to a pain management Doctor. She took over all prescriptions.. but same rules. Thats what they do. And again.. I followed the rules. But she was willing to up the doses over the years. And eventually I was getting some pretty good amounts. Now to be clear. I haven't gotten high from morphine since almost ever. It just helps the pain some.. keeps my guts pretty calm. But one day I get a form letter.. they're closing down the pain management aspect of their practice because of government pressures. Too much hassle. So I go back to my original GI who started me on it, to take it back over. But he just had to retire after serious back surgery. And his partner wont talk to me. RuhRow! What do I do Scooby doo? I was lucky enough to find someone for about a year.. she cut me way down.. but at least there was something. But this isn't really her specialty.. and she's getting the letters from uncle Sam. So.. fuck it.. I quit ! Cold turkey.. I planned it out so I could take off a month from work. Stocked up on ensure.. and T.P. Got ready for withdrawls. They were as horrible as you see on t.v. or movies. Basically it's like having the flu really bad for a couple weeks. After a month I was clean.. but my new nightmare was in full view. I am missing a large portion of my intestines after 3 bowel resections. It's called Short Bowel Syndrome. Everything that goes in.. goes right back out.. fast. No sight seeing along the way. If course the rapid pass through causes severe spasms and pain. I could no longer leave my bedroom. Not ever. I was on the toilet 10 times a day or more. And I barely ate at all. My new GI wasn't to happy about going the morphine route. I remember our appointment a couple months after I'd quit cold turkey. I wrote down my reasons why I wanted her to put me back on. I was bawling as I tried to convey how miserable I was.. I wanted my sad pathetic life back! I don't want to only be able to get out of bed so I could shit myself to death. I begged like dog. She agreed at a much lower dosage.. and of course.. all the same rules apply. Most days.. it's not even close to enough. But at least I can get out occasionally. Work a few hours a week. Play Pokemon Go with the grandkids and my beautiful wife. I get to have some little bit of a life. If anything happens to her.. or she just decides otherwise. My life will literally be over. My entire life is on the line. Every month. I go to pick up my refill prescription from her.. I think.. is this the month she cuts me off? I don't wanna die. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't have the answer to any of this. All I know is that there are thousands, maybe millions of people in this exact same boat. Narcotics are the only thing keeping them alive or letting them have some measure of relief from pain that you couldn't imagine in your worst dreams. Our governments solution right now is to take away all narcotics from everyone.. let God sort 'em out. Crack down on doctors who are trying to keep them alive. Cut funding for rehabilitation services and mental health. The 2 best tools to curb the opiod epidemic. These are just facts I'm sorry to say. I just don't understand how they can be so callous and cruel. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't deserve this.

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arthurflecksgirl · 4 years

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Artie falls in love with you / Arthur Fleck short story

Disclaimer: Suicidal thoughts, sex, drunk Arthur, romantic, sweet

“How...how many kisses?“

Arthur was lying on the couch, burying his face in the pillow. The two of you went out on a date for the third time today and you were truly in love with him.

“Just tell me sweetheart, how many?“ He mumbled. The couple glasses of wine werent a good idea considering that he was on his medication and was never really drunk before. You felt kinda bad about his condition right now. But you really tried to get him out of his apartment and did choose a good restaurant to finally get him to eat something. He never ate propery and looked kinda starved. Also a side effect of his meds. You felt good, watching him eating half a plate today, so you ordered some wine,too.

You kneed in front of the couch to made sure he's comfortable, petting his soft, sweaty curls “What do you mean?“

He smirked at you “How many smoochies will I get from you tonight?“ His face lighted up looking at you. His childlike grin made your knees weak every time.

You kept on playin with his hair “Many,Arthur.“

“But how much?“

He tried to get up and kiss you on the cheek, making kissing noises and almost fell from the couch “Oooops“ he buried his face in your neck “I almost fell. Good thing I fell in your arms,huh?“ His breath felt hot against your skin. The smell of his hair felt like home. “Yeah Arthur, I'm afraid you're a bit drunk.“

Arthurs smile grew even more “I'm not drunk. I just love you so much and need to know how many?“ A sloppy kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Countless,Artie.“

He sunk back into his pillow “Wow, thats a lot!“

You took the blankets and covered him with it “Just try to get some sleep,okay? You will get all the kisses when you're sober again“.

He crawled up under the sheets, his beautiful face lookin slightly weathered. “Hey (YN) wanna hear a Joke? “

“Sure“

“So this man comes into an libary“ he chuckles in his pillow already.

"...and asks for a book on how to commit suicide.

And the libarian said Fuck off, you won`t bring it back"

He can`t help but laugh about his own joke. His dark homor said more about himself than you wanted to admit but you were very drawn to his view of things. He always seemed to feel everything with an intensivity you have never seen on someone else before. Eighter if he was happy or sad. When you met him he told you he never felt happy in his whole life but you felt like it changed dramatically since you dated. Knowing that he was all alone by himself, expect from living with his mother his whole life still breaks your heart. Never have you met someone more caring. He loves to make late night conversations while cuddeling up under the blankets, about everything that was going on in his head. Sometimes he had troubles explaining what he was trying to say but you loved his way of observing things around him. He payed attention wo every datail. You admired him, which he couldnt understand. He loved to be seen and he loved that you listened to him carefully. But he still wasnt sure why you loved him so much. You guess he wasnt used to this kind of attantion.

"Thats a good one,Arthur!"

He was getting sleepy "Yeah... you know what (YN) there are many more jokes in my journal, you know? I want you to read it. "

"The jokes?"

"The whole thing"

His eyes got heavier now.

"There are not only jokes in it" his eyes tried to focus on you "I was writing about you,too.I want you to read it"

Your hand slit under the blanket to caress his chest "About me? Really?"

"Yeah" the scar on his upper lip liftet when he did that smirk and it always made you blush. He even managed to make you blush while lying drunk on the couch. You felt kinda bad by getting turned on seeing him in this condition.

"I dont know Arthur, I feel like this is kinda personal. I dont want to disturb your privacy by reading your journal.

"Just do it!"

"Artie, you`re drunk. What if you dont want me to read it anymore in the morning?"

He was leaning over to give you sloppy kisses again "Thats why I want you to read it now." He was pointing his finger at you "Hey, wanna hear another one?"

You gave him a soft kiss on his forehead "Get some sleep, Arthur. You need to rest now"

He falls back into the pillow and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

After you made sure he fell asleep you looked at his diary. He really said he wanted you to read it. And that he wrote about you.

You werent sure if you should take a look. This felt so personal. On the other hand... You were more than curious about what he might thought of you. You just started dating and had your first kiss some days ago. He was a really good kisser. You guessed he didnt really knew what to do at first but he was so emotionally involved. He seemed to soak up every second of the moment. Like he really wanted this. He was right there in the moment with you, which you loved.After the kiss he confessed that he never was with a woman before and you think he was a bit ashamed about it. But he still wanted you to know. You didnt mind. You thought it was cute actually. And you wanted nothing more than being his first. You would love him all night. Like he deserved to be loved.

Another stare at his diary. You put my hands on the cover. Arthur Fleck case number 064823. Sure he had some problems. But you wanted the both of you to figure them out together. You wanted to hold his hand when he was in the waiting room to attent his appointments. You still werent sure what the exact diagnose was. You didnt wanted to upset him by asking too much about it. But you knew that he took anti depressants and anti psychotics.

You opened the first page of his diary. Some jokes, really dark ones. Mostly about death.

You turned the pages. Observations about homeless people. More dark jokes. Sad thoughts about being left alone. You didnt really read all of it cuz it still felt like you were disturbing his privacy. So you tried to find the pages which are written about you and searched for your name to pop up and there is was.

Your name was written in big, red letters that looed like lipstick. With a big smiley. Your heart jumped out of my chest when you saw it. There was something so cute about it and you imagined him drawing this the night, after you met.

You took a deep breath and started to read as your hands were shaking.

"Today I met the sweetest girl. She was new in my neighborhood and seemed to be different from all those aweful bricks here in Gotham. She has a nice smile. An authentic one. Not like my own smile, which is never authentic for so many reasons. I dont even know what a real smile is. But when I saw her , I smiled and for the first time in my entire life it felt like a real smile.

So she had those big packages to carry and i was just standing there, staring at her and suddenly she asked me for help. I was never been asked for help before. People tend to ignore and avoid me a lot. So I was very pleased to help her with her packages. We got into an conversation and I told her a joke. And she was laughing. I love it when people laugh at my jokes. I mean, I wanna do stand up comedy so bad. I need people to think that I`m funny. And I know I am. ---smiley face---

Anyway, I felt like finally someone sees me. The next day she came up to me when I was about to get to th pharmacy and she asked me out on a date. I couldnt belive it at first. I have never been on a date before. I was kinda nerveaus. Why would a beautiful, young woman like she is go out with me?

Of course I said yes.

I was dreaming about this for so long. Maybe she could be my girlsfriend. This would be a dream come true. I already told her that I have some issues, because she asked me why I was going to the city and I didnt thought twice and told her I have to buy my anti psychotics. I know that this wasnt a good move but it seems like it didnt scare her away. Well, she doesnt know how bad it really is by now.

I really hope that this time she is real and I`m not having visions or daydreams again.

Sometimes its hard to tell.

Some days I even think the meds make it even worse. But at the same time I am afraid to go off my meds. I did it once and I did some bad shit. I even ended up in Arkham for a very long time. Which wasnt that bad really.

Sometimes I think I felt better when I was locked up.

Not being able to leave my room, being with my thoughts all day, drifting away in daydreams gives me comfort. Its like ignoring the cold, dark world outside. The world doesnt care about me anyway. So why should I? The sad thing is, I still do care. I thought about ending my own life so amny times. Almost every day. But I never really tried it. Its just a game I play with myself.

How long? How long until it is not a game anymore?

How long till I have the guts to do it?

Oh man, I`m drifting away again. I wanted to talk about the GIRL!!!

She`s gorgeous. Just gorgeous.

I wish I could kiss her. I`m 35 and I hadnt had my first kiss yet. Its TIME!

I tried it once with this girls from scool i was in love with but I got so nerveaus that I started to laugh at her face and she thought I was laughing at her. Yeah well... she ended up punching me in the face and I never tried it ever since.

But I dreamed about it a lot. How would it feel to have someones lips pressed against yours? Softly and intense. To taste someones tongue in your mouth, to just melt into each other.I would never stop. I feel like a kiss is a connection on a higher level and I really wanna experience it with someone.

I got some other fantasies,too.

They`re pretty dirty and I dont feel like I can talk about them right now.

So i`m gonna quit writing for today and hope that the girl isnt already sick of me.

You turned the page and took a look at Arthur. He was humming in his sleep. Looking peaceful. All the words in his diary overwhelmed you up to a point where you didnt know what to think anymore. You hoped he enjoyed his first kiss. You really hoped your kiss was worth the wait.

The next page was just black scribbles all over the pages. Little drawings of people and cats. A lot of cats.

The next page was written on again.

"Today I woke up and wanted to die. I don`t even know why. It was just a gut feeling. I was miserable andthe darkness was caving in on me. But then I thought about the girls I just met and that she really seemed to like me. So I decited not to kill myself. Not today."

You thought about putting the diary aside. This was a lil too much for you. You didnt knew he was in such a dark place mentally. You were kinda scared but couldnt stop reading eighter.

"So...I remembered her kiss, my first kiss and this memory was so strong. I am sure it wasnt just imagined. This time I am sure it was real. It has to be. I wanted to distract myself from suicidal thoughts and started to touch myself while thinking of her. Maybe I should write her a love letter. Or bring her flowers. Or both. I think I`ll do both. Anyway, I touched myself while thinking about sleeping with her and I finally felt something again. I tried so many times but my meds wouldnt let me cum. It barely happens. Thinking about her kiss, her hands in my hair, on my thights, between my legs.... and her sweet voice on my ear helped me a lot. I felt passion and love and I came so hard, you wouldnt even wanna know. I hope Penny was asleep and didnt noticed anything. This would be embarrassing as hell. I surely made some noises.

I imagined that I took her hand and made her dance all through the living room to Frank Sinatra songs and we got closer and kissed. She told me how much she loved me and how much she wanted me. I held her face in my hands and kissed her so hard, all my make up smeared up on her beautiful face. I am always wearing clown make up in my sexual fantasies. It makes me more confident.

She just grabbed me and took my clothes off, threw them all over the room, threw me on the bed and covered my body with kisses. I felt loved for the first time in my life and all I wanted was to be inside her. To wear her like a coat that keeps me warm. I imagined her being on top of me, whispering in my ear how much she wants me to fuck her. And yeah I know in reality she would have dominated me for sure. But in my imagination I just got on top of her and made love to her till she was out of breath. I could almost feel her breath in my neck, feel her sweet, soft hands all over me. It was just so real. I wish it was real.

Could it become real some day?

My body was reacting in a way I didnt even knew was possible before.

I want to expercience it again. With even more details.

I think i wil get back to bed and try it one more time.

And afterwards I will write her a letter. Or two.

I just wish she never leaves again."

Blank page

Another blank page.

You put the diary aside and got up on the couch.

You crawled up under his blanket and felt the warmth of his tiney, fragile body which you want to hold for the rest of your life.

#arthur fleck #joker #joker fanfiction #fanfiction #arthur fleck fanfic #arthurfleckfanfiction #short fiction #short story #joaquinphoenix #joaquin phoenix joker

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weareallfallengods · 4 years

Text

Reposting because I'm a disaster and don't know how to pin posts.

Survival

Inspiration: If you’re over 25 and haven’t done something remarkable, you are hunted down and killed. Some people invent things. Some make cures for diseases. Others become established members of their community. You’re pushing 30, and somehow not dead yet, even though you cant think of a single thing you’ve done thats remarkable in any way. Why aren’t you dead?

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

But then one day, one specific day, the one I'd been dreading in the back of my mind for a year came around.

They found me.

And I was now 25.

Sometimes I was a baker, sometimes a delivery driver, even a dock hand. Whatever it took to make a buck so I could eat.

As I raised my cup of espresso, something slid under my door. "OK that's weird," I said aloud as I stood.

I believe we can help each other, if you're willing to listen to my proposition.

-Soon,

Baddar"

Well, this is interesting.

#survival #original story

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