#or when i was about 14 i had a really bad anxiety bout for a week or so? and he just found ways to let me keep him company puttering with

[bittershins]

Things my dad has done for me in the last week that have made me want to cry:

1) gave me a bag of quarters that he's collected from the change he saves, for my coin laundry machines

2) noticed my bass guitar case was starting to fall apart and took photos of the measurements of the guitar for me as reference. And also pointed out what's gonna give me trouble in finding a case (slightly weird shape as a semi-acoustic)

3) i mentioned by frustrations with my weak pinkies when it comes to fretting, and he turns up with some old racket balls he's had kicking around fifteen minutes later

4) every single time the neighbors cat was on the porch, he bugged me and my sister about it to go visit him (he does not want a pet cat whatsoever. However he will sing out of tune at it)

5) bought me LED plant lights for Christmas, because he knows i hate online shopping too my absolute core, and remembered me mentioning them

6) he always checks my car's oil before i leave, since i have a bit of a drive ahead

7) whenever someone is sitting with the dog on the couch, he tucks him in with a blanket. Without fail

[huoyd]

Emotional Support Animal

Summary: After a couple of bad months following a stressful event, Wakko finds that Huey isn't recovering from his nervous state. He decides that a emotional support animal might help, and brings Huey to pick one out. Ao3 Link: [ link ] Pairings: Wakko Warner/Huey Duck Words: 2,842 A/N: A cute little fic set in my au where Huey and Wakko start dating when they're 13/14, eventually moving in together when they're older. This takes place when they're about 20/21? Please comment and reblog if you like it ! Also features art at the end that I commissioned from @starlingdrawz and coloured myself!

“Hey, duckie, ya’ ever think about gettin’ a therapy animal?”

Huey looks up from where he’s perched on the counter, his phone in his hand casually scrolling through social media as his boyfriend does the dishes. It’s not unusual for Huey to be a bit glued to Wakko’s side when the other is home. Ever since their home invasion episode had brought back some unresolved anxieties from his childhood, his anxiety had become a bit high.

He’s alright, he knows he is, but the nightmares keep him a little shaky. A little off balance.

Wakko’s comment processes, and he looks back down to his phone.

“Funny, I thought that’s what you were for.”

Wakko laughs, a quick bark of a sound as he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, right, very funny.” He sets the last dish to the side before lifting his hand to flick water at Huey. “Quite the comedian.”

Huey lets out a squeak as water hits his face, pulling his legs up and lifting his arms up to try and block the assault. “Stop it!” He laughs, and Wakko can’t help but to smile at the sound.

As long as Huey is laughing, things can’t be that bad.

“But seriously, what do ya’ think?”

Huey settles when Wakko speaks again. Wakko used the word seriously, he knows he has to give a legitimate answer. Or at least some thought into the question.

He shrugs his shoulders, his eyes moving down into his lap, though he turns his phone screen off.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. I’m not that great with… living creatures…”

It’s not entirely true. He’s good with plants. But people and animals, they’ve never been something that he excels at.

Or at least, it’s not in his opinion. Wakko seemed to have a different one entirely.

“I think ya’d be great with an animal.” Wakko smiles at him, trying to be reassuring. "Yer great with keepin' track of things. Ya' could make yer own schedule with 'em. Feedin', groomin', that sort of stuff. An'… it might be good… fer when 'm not here."

Huey stiffens a bit at that.

It’s silly. He knows that Wakko will eventually have to start leaving him home alone again. He’s not a child, he’s an adult. Who has to go back to university in the fall, and get back to his life despite his.. troubles.

And that’s fine. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.

“Yeah, maybe.” He’s still unsure about the animal though. He knows he’d be able to take care of one, he just doesn’t think an animal would like him.

“Well, how ‘bout this, then.” Wakko sets the towel back down and instead scoops Huey up off the counter. He spins him around as he moves towards their couch and flops down onto it, Huey still in his arms. “Me an’ you go t’a pet shop t’morrow. Jus’ t’have a look ‘round. If ya’ find a lil’ guy ya’ like, we get’em, if ya’ don’t, we don’t. Simple enough, yeah?”

Simple enough, yeah.

Or at least the way Wakko says it makes it sound simple enough. Huey doubts it will actually be that simple. Not with such a sudden plan as this. But Wakko does have a way of getting Huey comfortably out of his comfort zone.

So he nods. “Yeah, okay.”

It’s not like he has to buy anything. They can just look.

The next morning comes faster than Huey expects it to, and noon even quicker. He feels like he’s in a bit of a fog waiting for noon to come; the time they decided to leave their apartment and head to the pet store.

Huey had found one the night before that’s teamed up with a local shelter. All animal adoption proceeds went directly to the shelter, which is nice.

He had also done a little research on emotional support animals, though he still doesn’t know how keen he is on the idea. It has anxiety bubbling up within him, the idea of finding a pet, adopting it, and then having it not like him.

When Wakko asks if he’s ready, though, he pulls on his sweater and grabs his phone anyway.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Well then, let’s be off.” Wakko smiles as they get to the door, opening it up and letting Huey exit before him. “After you, darlin’.”

Huey smiles at the pet name before he exits, reaching out for Wakko’s hand like a security blanket as soon as the other joins him in the hallway. He leans into them as they make their way out of their building, both for comfort and security.

The walk to the store isn’t overly long, just a few blocks from their apartment, and when they get there it’s not overly crowded. Huey is thankful for it, even as he falls further into Wakko’s side, closing himself off to the public.

It makes Wakko feel a bit sorrowful, thinking back to the happy, adventurous duck he had met as a kid. How much Huey had loved the world, and being out in it. How Wakko had to watch the constant danger he was in from his family’s adventures slowly knock him down, and now this, his traumas being thrown back at them by a man who had thought he could get a quick buck out of Scrooge?

He takes a deep breath.

The pet will be good, he thinks. Or at least a good start.

“Alright, I’m makin’ the executive decision that we’re not gettin’ a dog, but how do ya’ feel ‘bout a cat?”

Huey lets Wakko lead him towards the cats, a few kittens tussling inside the cages. It’s not unlike how Wakko and Dot used to play. The memories make him smile, but it falls away from his face quickly after.

They’re cute, but he also knows that cats can be picky about the people they like and don’t like, and he can’t help but to imagine bringing a cat home just for it to like his brother the cat whisperer better.

So he shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think so..”

Wakko walks up to the cages where the cats were playing and takes on a mock-serious tone.

"I'm sorry fellas. Thank ya' all so much fer comin' out ta' th' auditions, but we've decided ta' go in a different direction. Please, please, no tears or hard feelin's."

Huey offers another small smile before Wakko takes his hand again and leads him further into the store.

They slowly make their way through, Huey passing up on a hamster, gerbil, parakeet and a fish. He’s near to calling it quits, when suddenly Wakko is leading him with a little more purpose.

He pretends to hold a clipboard, just as he had for the last several animals.

“Fer our next, and last, audition for the role of Huey’s new fluffy critter, we have: Bunnies. They will be playing the part of ‘Bunnies.’ Annnnnd begin!”

Huey’s smile returns no matter how many times Wakko makes the same joke, like the animals are auditioning for some kind of role. Though, it still doesn’t make him any more confident in picking out an animal.

He has to admit though, the bunnies are cute.

“You don’t think Babs will get jealous, do you?” He asks as he walks closer to the pen, referring to his boyfriend’s best friend.

Wakko only smirks, “Oh, she’ll get super jealous. That’s why I pointed ‘em out.”

The bunnies take notice of them as Huey gets closer, some hopping away to go play somewhere else in the pen, while a few more come up to the edge. They lean up on the side, their little paws sticking through the bars followed by their little noses.

“Aww, ain’t they cute?” Wakko comments, and Huey can’t help but to agree.

He watches as the little noses twitch as they hop along, playing with one another. He leans over the pen, only just barely able to reach out and touch one of them. The fence is too tall for him, but he’s able to graze his finger along the back of a light brown one.

“They’re soft.” Very soft. Softer than most things he’s felt. Like a little cloud under his finger tips.

“I bet they are.” Wakko leans down over the pen, trying to reach out and pet one, but they all scurry away at the sight of his large hand. But that’s fine. This is for Huey, as much as he so desperately wants to pet one.

“I think I scare ‘em.”

Huey looks back up at Wakko’s words and retracts his hand away from the cage, even as another one of the rabbits tries to nudge up into it for their own pets.

“Oh, then maybe a bunny isn’t a good idea.” He takes a step back, getting ready to move on even as his eyes linger on the small animals for just a moment more.

“No, no, we can spend more time with them. It’s jus’ ‘cause ‘m a dog, I think, but this’s fer you, not fer me, duckie.” He doesn’t want to ruin this for Hueyr. If he likes the bunnies, he should look at them a little longer, not have his decision swayed by their reaction to Wakko.

But Huey is already a bit more unsure, even as Wakko points him back over to the rabbit pen. He does want to look at them some more, though, and maybe if he were to get one it would eventually warm up to Wakko.

He steps back towards the pen, leaning over the side to try and pet one again.

“This one seems nice.” He comments in a quiet voice as the same one that had come up to him last time comes back up. It stands on its hind legs so that Huey is able to pet the top of its head a bit easier.

Wakko smiles as he watches. The one Huey was petting was one of the few that hadn’t run as soon as Wakko got near, though it still tensed as he got closer.

“Awe, lookit, Huey, they’re like yer twin.” He looks down at the little rabbit, their fur the colour of new snow, and their eyes like two bright little strawberries, just like Huey’s.

It was also small, much smaller than any of the others that had been around.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He pets it one more time, running his fingers over its soft ears before he retracts his hand. “I don’t know, Wakko…”

Though, Wakko seemingly has already made up his mind. He had already stepped away, flagging down one of the shop workers.

“S’cuse me, miss? Could my boyfriend hold one of th’ bunnies? The lil’ white one?”

The clerk, a brightly coloured tropical bird of some sort, looks up, taking stock of the situation in front of her, and smiles.

"Oh, yeah, sure, you just gotta be careful." She smiled before walking over to the pin. She leaned over, having a better reach than Huey did and easily scoops up the little bunny. “Especially with this one. She’s been known to bite. I'm surprised she's even over on this side. She doesn't usually like people. Might be fate." The clerk’s voice is cheery as she carefully transfers the bunny into Huey's arms.

At first the bunny squirms in Huey's slightly nervous hold, moving around in his arms, trying to get comfortable. It takes her a moment, but she manages to scramble her way up so that Huey is holding her to his chest, her chin resting on his shoulder.

Huey's eyes widen a bit, but he holds her securely.

Wakko watches on, smiling, falling a little more in love with his boyfriend as he does. “I think she likes ya’, honey duck.”

Huey can feel his hands shaking as the bunny nuzzles closer into his neck. He can feel something stinging the back of his eyes as this little rabbit seems to attach herself to him in an instant.

Very slowly, he adjusts her so that he can hold her with one arm, while his other hand raises to pet down her back. He takes a quivering breath as the first tear falls down his cheek, and then he tightens his hold on her, wrapping his other arm around her back as his head tilts to press it against her.

"I think I like her, too."

Huey knows that Wakko is watching. Watching him start to cry as he holds this small animal to himself. He can’t help it. Holding her like this, the warm, tiny but secure body, it just feels right. Like there’s been something missing and he just found it.

And Wakko knows it too as he watches on the sweet scene. He knows this is Huey’s pet. He can’t imagine them walking out of the store without her.

Not in a million years.

He moves towards them slowly, not wanting to startle the bunny, and wraps his arm around Huey so that it settles on his other shoulder.

“Let’s go pick’er out a pen then, huh?”

Huey sniffles, the sound small, nearly silent, but easy to pick up for Wakko’s ears.

“I’d like that.”

Later they get home, having spent more money then they had intended on the small mammal.

Wakko lugs in the pen, the food, the hay, then toys, anything and everything you would need to make sure that a rabbit lives a long, healthy life. A grocery order was on the way with some fresh veggies on the way, and Huey had been speaking about potentially setting up some garden boxes on their balcony during the car ride back.

Wakko rolls his eyes playfully as he watches Huey carry only the rabbit in.

“She’s gonna be one spoiled little bun, tha’s fer sure.”

Huey only smiles down at the carrier she’s tucked away in. “She deserves to be spoiled, just look at her.”

“I’m lookin’, I’m lookin’.” The words come out in half a laugh as he hauls the many bags up into their living room.

He starts unpacking them immediately, making sure that they can set up a nice little area for her to settle into.

Huey brings the carrier to the living room, opening it up and slowly putting his hand back into it. He doesn't want to spook her, just in case if in the short amount of time out of his arms she'd become unused to his scent again. But immediately she snuggles up to his hand and he thinks he might start crying all over again.

"Hi there." He says in a soft voice, running his fingers down her back and revelling in just how soft she is.

After a moment of her getting used to him again, he reaches in and pulls her out with gentle hands. He’s careful, possibly overly careful, but there are still a good amount of nerves running through him. He doesn’t want to hurt her. She’s so small.

Though, with a little humour, that’s probably how some people think of him.

“Welcome to your new home, little girl.” He lets her squirm for a moment before she goes back up to being tucked into his neck, and he slowly turns as if showing off the house to her.

Wakko looks up from where he’s beginning to set up the pen. He stands up, figuring that he would have time to build it in a few minutes. He wants to watch Huey get their newest family member acquainted with their home while he can.

He walks over, smiling at the two of them.

“As adorable of a name little girl is, ya’ got any ideas as t’what yer gonna name’er?” He asks, and Huey looks up at him, smiling.

“I’ve been thinking about it… her eyes remind me of strawberry lollipops… so I was thinking maybe Lolli..?” He looks up at Wakko, nervous, unsure, like he needs his opinion on the name. Like he needs to make sure it’s a good name.

“I think that’s an absolutely perfect name, love. Little Lolli, the second sweetest thing in this house. Right behind m’honey duck.” He moves his finger up towards the rabbit’s nose as he teases Huey, only for the rabbit’s teeth to bite down on the tip. “Ow! Alright, alright, the sweetest thing. M’goodness.”

He pulls his finger away, smiling as he does, and Huey can’t help but to let out a small laugh at the interaction.

“The clerk did say she likes to bite.” He comments, though he’s happy that she hasn’t bitten him yet. She’s had more than a fair chance and the closest she’s gotten was nibbling on his sweater while they walked around the pet store.

“Feisty, just like her owner.” Wakko teases again, before he leans down to kiss Huey on the bill. “I’m glad ya’ found’er, love.” He says, his voice turning soft.

Huey smiles back up at him, holding Lolli a little tighter.

“Yeah, I am too.”

[justnerdthings]

New Beginnings Ch. 14

F!Reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao

Some of you are about to be real happy.

And then real pissed off.

just a friendly warning.

Also, only two of you voted. *stares in disappointed*

@ancientowlgirl @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @shang-hung

Enough of this. Why were you being so nervous? You were a badass. You could run into blazing infernos. Or could lunge over cliffs. You could make the earth shake!

You took a deep breath and straightened as you looked to Lao. Alright. Do it. Just do it! You opened your mouth, ready to declare that you were more than impressed with his abs…

Only a small sound escaped you. Your lungs betrayed your sliver of confidence. Lao’s brows raised in confused concern.

You shut your mouth. Your lips pursed together. What had you been thinking? Of course you couldn’t do this. You sighed in your defeat and looked away again.

Lao chuckled as he recognized that familiar doubt come to your face. “Just say it,” he told you, earning himself a small cornered glance from you. He moved in front of you. “What? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

When you shifted your eyes away again to avoid looking at him, he just moved into your new line of sight. “What is it?” He pressed again.

You shook your head and turned away, only for him to once again move in front of you. “We’re not leaving this spot until you tell me. You really gotta get over this--… whatever it is. How bad could it really be? It’s alright if you’re cautious about water now. You said you almost drowned. It’s fine. We can work on that.”

“It’s not that,” you told him, fighting the annoyance in your voice.

“Then what?”

You sighed in defeat again. “I really don’t think I should—”

“Is it a woman thing?”

“What? No!” you gave him a disgusted look.

“Then what?”

You pressed your lips together in defiance.

Lao frowned. You noticed his spirit deflating. Dammit, he must have felt like you didn’t trust him again… You didn’t entirely, but the way his eyes looked right then made your heart drop. Damn puppy dog eyes. You looked away and grumbled. He hadn’t heard what it was you’d said so he stepped closer. “What?”

You took a deep breath. You said it a bit louder, but not any more clear.

“I can’t understand you when you mumble,” he’d told you.

“You’re hot!” You then blurted out, only to quickly shut your mouth and freeze like you’d just been caught red-handed while committing some crime.

Lao stared at you in silence for a moment, then grinned and began to laugh. You sank with embarrassment. You knew you shouldn’t have said anything. Now he was just laughing at you like all those guys you’d tried to ask out in high school. Dammit. Damn him! You turned in a huff and began to hurry away.

“Hey!” Lao called after you, and soon caught your wrist to stop you. He turned you to face him, that big grin still stretched across his face, but he was trying to fight it off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“I’m used to it,” you told him, shame dripping from your words.

“No. No, it’s not like that. I swear.”

“It’s fine,” You tried to pull your hand back, but he gripped your wrist tighter and gently pulled you closer. You were wary as you looked up at his face.

“That’s what was so hard for you to say? That I’m hot?”

Your brows sunk as you frowned again.

“Y/N…” His grin slowly came back. “It’s fine. Really. Thank you.”

Your eyes shifted away. This was so embarrassing. Lao’s grip shifted from your wrist, gaining your attention, and you watched as he took your hand. Your chin was then lifted gently, making you look back to his face. He let his fingers linger along your jaw. That funny feeling in the pit of your stomach started up again. The one that knotted it the day before, just before Liu had pulled you into a kiss.

The icy chill of adrenaline washed over you as you stared up at him. Oh no. It was happening again. Now with Lao. Oh no. No. No. No. This was not a good idea. What if Liu found out? What did that even mean? Were you and Liu a couple now? Is that what happened yesterday? You had no idea. You two never said anything about that. Maybe it was just a one time thing? No. No, Lao had told you that Liu was interested in you. Maybe you two were a couple now. But now, Lao…

Oh, this was not going right at all. Not both of them. You didn’t know what Liu had in mind, but Lao… Lao had told you days ago that he was picky about his relationships. He was looking for a wife. He was looking for a mother for his future children. And just a few hours ago, he’d made it apparent that you were being considered for both those things. Oh no. No. No. This had to stop.

Lao’s eyes had shifted to your lips. Your breath hitched as he leaned towards you. You pulled your head back as a dark little piece of your mind screamed at you to let it happen. “Lao…” You said hesitantly.

He stopped. His brows knotted as he noticed a conflict on your face.

“I can’t,” you told him gently. “Not with… I mean… Liu…” You couldn’t form a proper sentence as guilt began sinking it’s talons into you.

Lao let out a slow sigh. Right… Liu. Liu had acted first, hadn’t he? And Liu had gotten so defensive over you last night. Lao let your hand go and stepped back. “Sorry.”

"No." You moved towards him, frowning. "Don't be… You…" Oh, god, how could you say this without sounding pathetic. "I… This is all really new to me. No one's ever been interested in me before. And now… Now I have two guys interested in me and they're practically brothers."

Lao watched you as a familiar hint of panic began to lurk in your eyes.

"I don't know what I'm doing…" you admitted. "Up until yesterday, I'd never kissed anyone."

Lao nodded and suddenly realized how uncomfortable you must have felt. Strange place. Strange people. Strange customs. And now strange feelings. He took a deep breath. Tears had threatened to fall down your cheeks. Lao was not good at dealing with crying. And thinking he may have caused this bout, dread and helplessness weighed on his shoulders.

Lao reached out and pulled you right into his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you and held you tight. He wasn't sure if this was the right move or not, but it felt like something you'd appreciate.

You couldn't help the tears as you were held. You cried right into his chest as anxiety surged through your body. You felt a gentle weight on the top of your head. "It's alright. I'm sorry," Lao said softly. You realized then that it was his chin resting on the top of your head. That was… sweet.

He must have held you for a few minutes before the awkwardness overwhelmed him. He lifted his head and pulled back a bit to look at your face. "You want to get some breakfast?"

You'd almost forgot that you hadn't eaten yet. Nodding, you pulled out of his arms and for a second it seemed like he didn't want to let you go, but had relented. You wiped at your wet eyes as you turned and headed for the dining room.

You were sitting next to Liu again at the breakfast table. Your eyes were still puffy and red, but you had assured Liu it was nothing. Lao didn’t do anything. It was just anxiety. He didn’t seem completely convinced, but let it go.

You both kept stealing glances at each other. You even stole a few of Lao, who wasn’t even bothering to hide his own efforts. A red hue stained your cheeks again.

The door opened and in walked a monk. He walked right over to the table and handed Lao an envelope with a polite bow. He bowed to you and Liu as well before taking his leave. You watched curiously before looking back to Lao as he opened the envelope.

“You guys… get mail?” You asked.

“We’re not completely in the dark ages,” Liu joked with an amused chuckle.

You grinned and looked back to Lao. Your grin quickly faded as you saw the look on his face. “What? What is it?” you asked carefully.

“Nothing. It’s fine.” He lied. Lao shook his head and folded the letter back up.

“It’s not nothing,” you pressed.

“It’s fine. Just junk,” Lao dismissed.

Liu reached for the empty envelope. He read over the address. “Your mother.”

“Yeah.” Lao took the envelope back with a sigh.

“What’d she say?” You asked.

“Nothing.” Lao was being so avoidant.

“She sent you a blank letter?” You asked in disbelief. No. It was definitely something.

“Yeah—Hey!” Lao reached out, but it was too late, you had swiped the letter from him. Your pride quickly fell as you looked over the handwritten letter.

It was entirely in chinese.

“Oh.” You frowned in your defeat. “Uh… I… I can’t read this,” you admitted.

Lao reached for it again, but Liu had grabbed it before he could. Lao sighed heavily. “Really? It’s none of your business—”

“Your brother and Ju had a baby?” Liu asked. “I didn’t know that they were expecting.”

Lao sighed again. “Yeah. Didn’t think it was that important to mention.”

“That’s great news!” You chimed in, beaming. “Why aren’t you excited? You’re an uncle!”

“Yeah. Great.” Lao wasn’t at all excited.

“Oh…” Liu mused as he read over the rest of the letter.

“Yeah…” Lao sighed as shame washed over his face.

“Don’t let it get to you, Kung Lao,” Liu told him.

“Easier said than done.” Lao seemed so defeated.

Liu frowned and you looked between them in utter confusion. “What? Don’t let what get to him?”

Neither one of them said anything for a moment, much to your annoyance. “C’mon. What’s wrong? I thought we were supposed to be a team?” Weren’t you? Shouldn’t you know what was bothering each other? What had Lao’s mother said in the letter?

Liu and Lao exchanged a glance before Liu looked back to the letter. He cleared his throat. “To my dearest, Kung Lao. We have welcomed your brother Chang and his wife’s first child into the family. They were blessed with a son who they have named Kung Jin. I hope this serves as motivation for you. How much longer are you going to wait? You are twenty-seven years old, unwed, and childless. I do not need to remind you that you carry the responsibility to carry on your ancestor’s legacy. Mortal Kombat is only five years away and you have not yet produced a son to continue the tradition. If you die in the tournament without a son to carry on the name, shame will fall onto this family. This is completely irresponsible of you. Your father is very ashamed of you. Stop fooling around. Love, Your mother.”

You could not believe your ears. “No. She didn’t write that,” you said, denying such a thing. How could a mother speak that way to her own child? You shook your head. This had to be a joke.

But Liu and Lao weren’t laughing.

It sunk in. What Liu read to you was real. Lao’s mother really had wrote those words. Your jaw hardened. “That bitch…” you mused, not meaning to say it out loud. Both of them heard it, but neither defended Lao’s mother’s honor. They just exchanged another glance with each other. You reached out and took the letter. You still couldn’t read it, but you didn’t want to if such awful words were on it.

You tore it up.

Liu and Lao both watched you in mild surprise as you shredded that letter into the tiniest pieces. “This never happened,” you told them both and brushed the pieces of paper off the table and your lap.

“Y/N…” Lao spoke, but stopped as you stared up at him defiantly.

“Never. Happened,” you repeated. “Got lost in the mail,” you offered.

Liu grinned and looked down to his plate.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was well after breakfast and you were training with Liu. You were balancing on the pole again… well, not really. Your balance was awful. Your concentration was shot. Each time you fell, you didn’t even pay enough attention to be upset with yourself. Liu noticed it immediately, but chose to not say anything at first, hoping you would work through your intrusive thoughts. But it was becoming obvious that you weren’t even trying to avoid them.

He let out a small sigh, and that was enough to catch your attention. You looked up to him with knotted brows.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Just can’t believe a mother would say that kind of stuff.”

He nodded. It had stayed on his mind too, but he was used to it. He’d known the woman almost his entire life. “She means well.”

“Bullshit,” you hissed.

Liu didn’t even fight your protest. He nodded in agreement. “She’s always been like that,” he told you. “Ever since we were children. His father isn’t any better.”

You frowned.

“He didn’t have the best childhood.”

“Don’t tell me he was abused…” You dreaded that thought.

Liu pursed his lips for a moment. That’s all you needed to see to know the answer. God, dammit. If you ever met that woman… if you ever met Lao’s father… No. You couldn’t even beat Lao. How good of fighters would his parents be? You sighed and let your clenched jaw relax.

“Thank the gods Lao turned out as well as he did,” you breathed. Liu nodded.

“I remember when we were children and I would notice new bruises on his arms or face. He never talked about them. He never had to. Sometimes I would just take him away from the temple and we’d run around… get in a bit of trouble together. Anything to distract him, really,” Liu said.

“Did the temple ever do anything about his parents?” You asked.

Liu shook his head. “They were practically untouchable. Still are, I imagine.”

“Like royalty,” you accused.

Liu nodded. “Something like that.”

“Still no excuse to beat your kid… Never an excuse for that.”

“I agree.”

“Has his family always been like that? Even his grandparents?”

Liu shrugged his shoulders. “Never met them.”

“Aunts? Uncles?”

Liu shrugged again.

“This really pisses me off, Liu.”

“Mhm.” He nodded. It upset him too. “But, they can’t do it anymore.”

“What about that baby? Is his brother like that?”

“Chang was always jealous of Lao. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has his own issues.”

“That’s not comforting to hear.”

“I know.”

“What about that baby, Liu?”

“I don’t know.”

You didn’t like that answer. You didn’t like that answer at all.

[wecryoverduckshere]

Ok the new episodes is perfect. I’m gonna talk about some of my thoughts after watching it twice (because I thought it was that good) This will definitely jump around a lot and because I have a short attention span will consist of a numbered list.

⚠️Spoilers of course⚠️

1. Fenton loving Gandras invention=adorable

2. M’ma Cabrera will literally always make me so actually happy. I love her character in the new series so much. She has the ability to break Louie and would probably kill me with one look of disappointment.

3. Manny being a sort of foil towards Fenton will always make me laugh

4. Huey is all of us when we found out what the episode was about. “Wait! Are you working for F.O.W.L”

4. “Dr. Intern”

5. “Any place where we’re together is perfect” Pleaseee you will make me cry

6. Is Ducktales predicting something with the whole waddle phone thing? Or is this a threat?.... just kidding.....unless

7. Fenton’s office is still in the bathroom and has a cute little plant.

8. I may or may not be watching it a third time to make this list...

9. I’d say before the new episode list I was more of a Fenro shipper (not gonna lie probably because it’s gay) and I honestly thought Gandra was bad. I still love them both but this episode made me so happy with Fendra.

10. The episode is buffering so now I’m going off memory so it might not be great.

11. hehe he robo cop reference (M’ma is literally even more badass in that suit)

12. Yet another instance of Louie being able to impersonate Huey. I really love that he can, but chose not too in The Trickening

13. Gandra caring what Fenton thinks because they love each other. 💖

14.”Red nephew!? Red nephew?! *Gasp* GREEN NEPHEW”

15. I love Gyro so much like I cannot tell you how much. Also like myself Gyro gets trapped the the closet.

16. Have Fenton and Gandra been together since the beginning?? Awee

17. Do weighted blankets actually help anxiety?? I might have to look into buying one.

18. Fenton is so bad at lies and I love it.

19. I’m sorry did Huey walk in on Fenton making out with the air and just brush it off. Had to pause it I was laughing so hard.

20. Man this list is long no one is actually going to read it but I’m very happy so I’m not finished!!

21. Is that Timmy Jenkins?!? he’s every where...

22. awe Gyro was so impressed

23. Dr. Intern #2

24. Long leg Huey will forever haunt me and Dewey.

25. Beaks has tried to steal the Gizmosuit on five different occasions.

26. “Dewey stop tap dancing it’s 3am” How often does this happen?!? And I wonder if he’s good at it.

27. Huey=ultimate wingman

28. Fenton is so in love. He even dots his equations with little hearts 🥰

29. Seamstress from Alberta named MelissaBethEllen “SOME CANADIANS ARE FRENCH”

30. Rip Louie’s kids

31. Mark Beaks is bad but also hilarious and somehow extremely likable towards fans.

32. How did FOWL know?? Where is the secret library?? What if Webbys parents are there. Also they are docking two weeks pay does that mean she’ll still get payment at some point?? Also I wonder if Gandra messaged Fenton back before they took her. Oh noo I’m sad

33. The mail lady is very funny

34. Fenton respects his mother and also loves Gandra (bout made me cry)

35. They are all very cool I need to wrap this list up and do school work.

There is probably more I can’t think of but In conclusion I love this show so much and I’m so sad It’s ending but the last few episodes are gonna be epic.

[violetwolfraven]

Hey! I have a couple requests from the prompt thing but imma send them in separately. 46 for Sprace (the having to tell Jack about their relationship one) in canon era please? I love Jack as everyone's older brother it is literally the best thing ever. Maybe he realizes Race keeps going over to Brooklyn and then is super worried and overthinking what he's doing over there so they end up having to explain? Thank you!

Tentatively trying this cause I’m not sure if my writing senses are back yet so if it comes out shitty I apologize.

I’ve actually done this exact prompt twice already with 2 other angles! So here goes Jack finding out about sprace, take 3.

Tw: anxiety.

...

Jack wasn’t stupid, and though running a borough and a union wasn’t exactly easy, he wasn’t so busy that he didn’t notice when one of his kids went missing.

There was a reason Jack was never first in line at the distribution center, and it wasn’t (only) so that Weasel and the Delanceys were already good and annoyed, courtesy of his friends, by the time he got up there.

It was mostly because the extra time from being a few back in the line was good for taking a headcount, making sure everyone who’d left the Lodging House was still there before anyone left to go to their selling spots. Making sure the older boys that were assigned Littles to look after had those Littles with them. Checking for limps or coughs that he hadn’t had time to notice on the way out the door.

It was the same when he checked around every night, making sure everyone was in their beds and checking on anyone who’d seemed sad that day. It was taking care of his friends, because Jack was the oldest and God knew nobody else was taking care of them.

Hell, he called them friends, but they were really more like family. The only family he remembered besides a few vague memories of a mother who’d died when he was young and a father who’d never exactly been a good one. And some of them had been around longer than others, but...

The ones who’d been around the longest, who’d showed up around the same time, when Jack was 7 and they were 6 and 5, respectively, were Crutchie and Race. His brothers even more than the others were. His most trusted friends. His seconds who would one day take over Manhattan when he left.

Jack had been watching over them the longest, so of course he still paid special attention to those two, keeping them close and safe. Even if they could take care of themselves and there were others who objectively needed him more, of course Jack still noticed when they had bad days. He did know them better than practically anyone, after all.

So of course he noticed when one of them started acting weird.

Race always sold in Brooklyn. He had since they were like... 11 and 9, ever since he struck up that deal with a girl who let him sell at Sheepshead. And he always made so much that nobody could tell him to come back and sell in Manhattan.

He always came home right after selling hours ended. And even though Brooklyn was a rougher neighborhood, he always came home safe.

Which was why it was so weird how he turned 15 and a few months later he just suddenly stopped coming home right after selling time, barely making it back before dark, some nights.

And yeah, wanting to take some space and time away from home was a normal teenage thing to do, as far as Jack knew—he’d never gotten the option to do that, being in charge of keeping his kids alive since he was 14—but he was starting to worry that something was seriously wrong, with how Race came back flustered and clearly hiding something.

Then the strike happened, and...

Well, if Race came back late before, it was nothing compared to how he started coming home after dark, barely before midnight, or even staying in Brooklyn overnight, a couple times.

Jack was preoccupied with the rest of the borough, with Katherine as they got caught up in the euphoria of the action and then Sarah as he tried to rebound from getting dumped and then Davey as he finally figured out his own heart, but he still wasn’t so distracted that he didn’t notice one of his seconds staying out all night.

Race wouldn’t tell him why, no matter how much he tried to seem reassuring and supportive of whatever it was. It was like he didn’t trust Jack anymore.

And... and that was fair. Jack had let him down during the strike by making him feel abandoned and betrayed—making all his kids feel that way—but it had seemed to blow over with the others after he explained that he didn’t scab for the money, so why not with Race? What was different that would make him not trust Jack when the others did?

The fear kept creeping in that whatever it was was going to make Race switch boroughs. He was spending an awful lot of time in Brooklyn, and he was hiding something from Jack for practically the first time since they’d met.

Davey told him not to worry, told him it wasn’t as serious as that, but Jack knew Race better.

And plus, Crutchie was worried, too. He told Jack that one night on the fire escape, after they watched Race ‘sneak’ into the house late for the 5th time that month. That it was weird he was spending so much time in Brooklyn and wouldn’t tell either of them why.

What was equally weird was how Albert usually wasn’t considered trustworthy as a secret keeper and yet he wouldn’t tell this one of Race’s despite the fact that he clearly knew. That meant that Race really wanted it kept a secret. It was suspicious.

Which was why Jack was doing something he didn’t do that often; doing something after Davey specifically told him it was a bad idea and not to do it.

The thing was, when a kid who was essentially your little brother kept coming home late, acting distant, and wouldn’t tell you why, you had to take steps. Which was why Jack was following Race to Brooklyn today, from enough of a distance that he hadn’t noticed yet.

He was heading to Sheepshead like he always did, and as Jack watched him throughout the day, he was just selling like any other newsie and placing bets like... well, like Race.

It seemed like there was no reason why he would be staying out late, so why was he..?

By a few hours to the end of the day he’d sold most of his papers already, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that he was heading under the stands for a break, but...

It started to get suspicious after he’d stayed down there for 20 minutes.

Naturally, Jack’s anxieties popped up again, wondering what if he’s hurt and he’s hiding it what if he’s in trouble what if he’s talking to a Brooklyn kid about switching boroughs and he snuck down to where he knew Race usually hung out, staying quiet as he could and feeling stupid but still also feeling the need to go keep following.

Given that he trusted Race despite his insecurities, Jack wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find.

But whatever he was expecting, it definitely was not Race sitting against a stable wall, holding hands and trading lazy, carefree kisses with the King of Brooklyn like they didn’t care about the law or the summer heat or... anything.

It clearly wasn’t the first time and everything made sense now.

Neither of them noticed Jack was standing there, which was partially shocking and partially just... Jack didn’t know what. He had no idea what was going on right now and shock was all he was feeling.

He cleared his throat, “So...”

Race and Spot jumped, and one of them yelped as they shoved apart, getting to their feet.

“Jack?”

Race’s voice was an octave higher than usual. Spot had put himself between the two of them, which was... kind of odd to realize he was that protective, but good? Jack was still so confused.

But he knew Race looked scared, and as much as he was trying to hide it, so did Spot. He couldn’t have that.

“Whoa,” Jack put his hands up, “I ain’t tellin’ nobody. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, cause if ya did, I’d tell everybody ‘bout you and Mouth,” Spot shot back.

“Spot, back off,” Race muttered under his breath, and Jack tried to swallow his panic. He didn’t know how Spot had found out about him and Davey, but it didn’t seem like a good thing that he knew.

Yeah... he really should have listened when Davey told him not to follow Race.

But shockingly, it looked like Spot was backing off. Like he was relaxing under the touch of Race’s hand on his shoulder. That only made Jack feel a little better, but he guessed Spot did have a reason to be defensive. If Jack outed him, it would probably get him killed.

It was dangerous to be queer, period, and it was even more dangerous when you were running the bloodiest borough in New York. And that meant it was dangerous for Race, too, but...

This did explain why he’d been spending so much time over here.

The three of them had already been standing in silence way too long when Race sighed, moving in front of Spot and making eye contact with Jack.

“I’m almost 16, Jack,” he said firmly, “I can do what I want and I don’t care if ya don’t approve. So if you’s got a problem with—“

“No,” Jack said quickly, “No, I... can we head back to Manhattan? Talk on the way?”

Spot tensed up, and the look he and Race exchanged was clearly a question and reassurance. A ‘do you want me to fight for you?’ and ‘no, I can handle this.’

Jack knew those kinds of looks because he’d exchanged similar ones with Davey plenty of times, even before they got together officially.

It was weird to think that if Race had started staying out late because of this, that meant he’d had a fella longer than Jack had, but that was something to have a crisis over another day.

When he turned back to Jack, he nodded, squeezing Spot’s hand before walking over, leading the way back towards home.

They didn’t start talking until they were on the bridge.

“How long?”

Race shrugged, not meeting Jack’s eyes, “A couple months before the strike, we’s had a fight that ended in us makin’ out. So... dependin’ on how ya look at it, since then?”

“What do ya mean, ‘dependin’ on how ya look at it?’”

“Well, at first, it was just physical. Y’know, makin’ out and not talkin’ about it? Then we finally had a real talk right after the strike and got on the same page ‘bout what we wanted and now it’s... more than that.”

As weird as it was to think about, Jack could tell by his tone what he meant by ‘more than that.’

It hurt that Race hadn’t told him, and more that he and Spot were putting themselves in danger just by being together, but...

“You love him, don’t ya?” he asked slowly.

Race tensed up for a second, then stopped walking, leaning against the edge of the bridge and staring out at the water.

“What’d ya say if I did?”

Jack hated the traces of fear the younger boy was trying to hide. He never wanted to make one of his feel that way.

Sure, he didn’t like the idea of Race being in danger, or of anyone being in a position to hurt him, but he and Spot were... well, now that Jack was thinking about it, they made sense in an abstract kind of way. Race could destroy someone in a battle of wits as fast as Spot could in a physical fight. They were both tough and both leaders, though in different ways. Spot hadn’t joined the strike right away out of concern for Brooklyn’s kids. Race had helped start it out of concern for Manhattan’s.

Jack had to admit, even if no one could know about them, they were a hell of a power couple.

“He treats ya right, yeah?” he asked quietly, “And you’s bein’ careful—not gettin’ caught?”

Race nodded, “Yeah, of course. Hotshot knows—Brooklyn’s second—he covers for us if needed. And Spot’d never hurt me. Even when we was just friends, let alone now.”

“Albert knows, too, don’t he?”

“Uh...yeah. And Romeo figured out I was sweet on someone and wouldn’t leave me alone until I told him who it was, so he knows. And Kath walked in on us once.”

Aside from the fact that Jack could not believe Katherine didn’t tell him...

“Maybe you’s shouldn’t make out where people can walk in on ya.”

Race laughed, “That might be smart.”

He got serious again a little too quickly to be as fine as he was pretending be. Jack walking in on them before he was ready to tell had clearly shaken him.

Jack now felt pretty stupid for following him over here. He should‘ve listened to Davey.

“I thought you was thinkin’ about switchin’ boroughs.”

“What? No,” Race said quickly, a little too defensively, “Manhattan’s my home. My family. I wouldn’t just leave. I’m supposed to take over someday—with Crutchie, I mean. I’d never just abandon that.”

“I know,” Jack said, trying to reassure him, “I didn’t think it was you runnin’ from responsibility. I know you’re stronger than me, Racer. I thought... I thought it was cause... cause of me. Cause I let ya down in the strike.”

“Jack...”

He seemed to be struggling for words, but every second where he didn’t say anything made Jack feel worse.

“It was scary,” he admitted finally, “Yeah. I was runnin’ Manhattan alone all sudden-like and that was scary. I didn’t even have Crutchie, and Davey was tryin’ to help but he didn’t know what he was doing. It wasn’t like you always told me it’d be like when I ended up in command and I didn’t understand why—you always seemed like the one who’d stand by the rest of us no matter what. You promised you wouldn’t just leave with no warnin’.”

Jack felt terrible for that. He knew, firsthand, how hard it was having to take a command he never asked for with no warning. He’d had to take over the borough when he was 14, after his mentor died.

He’d never wanted that for Race or Crutchie. He’d always told himself that if he ever actually went to Santa Fe, he wouldn’t leave them hanging like that. He’d give them at least a couple weeks to prepare, ideally transition authority gradually so he could be sure they were ready and they’d be able to take care of the others.

Jack took a deep breath, “I’m so sorry, Racer.”

“There was about to be a ‘but.’”

“Oh. Okay. Go ahead.”

“But,” Race said, “Jack, yeah, you scared me, but... ya told me that night. You did it for Davey. Why’d ya think I actually got the others to help?”

“Cause you knew we needed to win the strike quick before we all starved?” Jack asked, “And Kath’s article was the best chance?”

He shook his head, “No. It was cause blood be damned, you’re my big brother. You’s been there protectin’ me and Crutchie and the others since we was Littles. I already wanted to believe ya had a good reason. I didn’t trust you a ton just then, but I wanted to. And once you explained... I got it. I get it. Cause I’d do the same thing for Spot if I had to.”

By implying that what he and Spot had was like what Jack and Davey had...

Race knew how hard it was for Jack to let down his guard. So he knew what a big deal it was that he did with Davey. He knew they had a connection even beyond the connection Jack had with any of the others.

Jack was glad he’d found that. Someone he could understand and connect with. Even if the idea of it kind of made him uncomfortable.

“I know Spot and me don’t always get along,” he admitted, “But I trust your judgement and I know you can take care of yourself, so... I’m happy for ya, Racer.”

Race smiled a little, “Thanks.”

“Plus,” Jack bumped him gently as they started walking again, “I saw the way he looks at ya. Most people would kill to have someone they love look at them like that.”

“You mean like how Davey looks at you?” Race asked cheekily, bumping him back.

Jack smiled, mostly to himself. Davey was going to enjoy saying ‘I told you so’ when Jack told him he was right that he shouldn’t have worried.

...wait. Davey had seemed 100% sure that Race was fine. And he knew how dumb the younger boy could be, so it was unlikely it was because he trusted Race’s judgement.

“Wait, does Davey know?”

“Uh...” Race laughed awkwardly, “He mighta caught me sneakin’ back into the Lodgin’ House a couple weeks ago. And he gave me that look—y’know the one—where he looks all disappointed? He asked where I was and I panicked and said I was with Spot, so... I didn’t exactly tell him, but he probably guessed?”

“Yeah, cause he ain’t a dumbass.”

It was a little surprising that he hadn’t told Jack even if it was just a guess, but...

“I asked him not to tell ya,” Race admitted, “Or Crutchie. Cause I didn’t know how you’d react. That probably... also clued him in.”

“Oh, Crutchie’s gonna wanna scare the shit out of Spottie boy when he finds out.”

Race laughed kind of nervously, the smile fading from his face pretty quick.

“I ain’t gonna tell him if you don’t want me to,” Jack added quickly, “And he’ll be fine with it when he does find out. He knows you’s can take care of yourself, same as me. He’ll still wanna give Spot a shovel talk, though. Matter of fact, so do I.”

“Well, I knows Spot can handle a shovel talk.”

He was still hesitating, and Jack was tempted to ask what he was so afraid to say.

They were almost back to the Lodging House by the time he did.

“You’s really okay with this?” he asked, “Me and Spot? You ain’t gonna freak out?”

Jack threw an arm around his little brother, “Race, long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

[graysistance]

hey friends! quick pause in ic content for a bit that may seem a little out of left field, but maybe someone needs a little encouragement like this today, so here goes: 

for context, i’m 26 years old. i have had severe depression from age 12 to 20 and have been recurring depressive since then. i’ve had anxiety basically since i could talk. i’ve had recurring panic and anxiety attacks since middle school. when i was 14 i got diagnosed with severe anxiety and severe depression but went to maybe....4 or 5 therapy sessions but that was it. i pride myself in being high functioning and not revealing any of this unless i have to. most people, if i do reveal anything, are shocked and surprised because i don’t seem sad or paranoid. only my mom, dad, and a few close friends ever found out how bad things were. everyone else knew me as the happy gal who never really got upset, just quiet.

those illnesses aren’t badges or anything, they’re just this one part of my life. they aren’t me and never have been. that said....

yesterday, i went to a doctor and ended up giving him the whole story of what was going on in my head lately. to my surprise, he didn’t push anything on me, although he did encourage adding some meds to my routine. overall, once i told him about my depressive bouts, he looked at me for a bit, thinking, and just said “six years? that’s a long time.”

there was no pressure to make any particular choice about a treatment, but he impressed upon me that living with this stuff and just muscling through it without help of some kind wasn’t necessary. he’d rather i took care of myself than just plod onward like i had been. so i caved and he prescribed the lowest dose possible of something. when i filled the prescription several hours later i looked down at the dumb paper pharmacy bag....and felt like i’d lost. 

let me add that i’m also an only child, a serial perfectionist, and have only child syndrome out the wazoo which means i’m stubbornly independent, i have to do everything myself and hate asking for help or bringing other people into my problems. most people in my life don’t even HEAR about my problems until well after i’ve fixed them. it’s not the best way to do things but it’s how i’ve muddled my way through most of my life. i was pretty content to keep doing that for as long as possible, tbh.

finally, i realized how much that wasn’t working when i had two anxious breakdowns in the span of a month several times in the past eight months. they were so bad i was in physical pain during them.

it sort of hit me in exam room and later, once i was home and looking at the pill bottle again, that maybe doing this myself isn’t the best way. i made it work for my whole life thus far, but were there things i was living with that maybe i didn’t have to? yeah. yeah there were. maybe these meds weren’t losing, they were just a different way to achieve my goal of functioning well. better, even. i don’t know if i’ll stay on them or not, but the choice is up to me. i can try different things until something sticks. and it doesn’t make me a loser. pretty cool.

now i understand that this isn’t available to everyone. medicine isn’t as accessible as it should be because for some it’s behind an insurmountable paywall or connections that just aren’t available to certain people. frankly, i think that’s bullshit and can’t wait until politicians in the u.s. get their act together and make mental health awareness AND resources more widely available. i’m voting for those people every chance i can.

but i guess the point is that you’re really not by yourself in your struggles. alone in your head maybe, but your head isn’t the only head that’s dealing with this stuff. i guess the point is it’s okay to ask for help. you didn’t lose. you’re not weak. really, you’re not. in a rare example of the internet really hitting the nail on the head, remember this: “if you can’t make your own seratonin, store bought is fine.” and if your outside source of seratonin is in hobbies or past-times or little affordable and nice forms of escapism, that works too. you’ll be okay. and if you’re not okay yet, it’s not over. hang on, you’ll get there.

( alsO DON’T DRIVE OR OPERATE MACHINERY on this stuff. i got double teamed by my roommate and kat last night saying that it makes you drowsy and boy does it ever so take it at night. melatonin WHO )

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

March Ado About Nothing

Series Summary - A series of one-shots and  drabbles written based off of prompts posted in the TSS Fanworks Collective server. The goal is to take traditional whump prompts and fill them in the least-angsty way possible every day through March.

A note that though some of these fills are written bait and switch style (written in a way you think is going in one direction but reveals it to be the opposite towards the end) they are all written in a fluffy or silly style with very little, if any at all, actual angst.

Day 14: Keep Them Safe

Summary: Virgil has three amazing kids he swears to keep safe. Remus often tests his limits.

Prompts: "Pick Who DIes”, *Manhandled*, Defiance

Ships: Familial Dad Virgil with kids Patton, Roman and Remus

Warnings: brief panic, food mention. Let me know if there are more!

General taglist (ask to be added or removed): @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi  @im-an-anxious-wreck  @logans-library (If you have asked to be tagged, please reblog)

WC: 1197

As a parent, Virgil had sworn to never let any harm come to any child that may come into his care. He figured having anxiety would help with this since it usually kept him almost annoyingly vigilant towards any threat, potential or not, that may be in the surrounding area at any given time. He considered himself to be rather good at it, especially after raising Patton for a number of years and having nothing traumatic or even bad happen to him at that time. He still had all his limbs, no scarring- mental or physical- and he was generally just a happy go lucky kid as it was and Virgil found he barely had to raise him at, mostly just be there for support and thank whatever gods were around every day that the kid never did anything punishment worthy because Virgil honestly doubted he’d ever have the strength to so much as put him in the corner.

The most Patton had ever done, as far as Virgil was aware and he was inclined to believe, was to steal a second cookie after dinner. The most he had gotten was Virgil asking him if he knew he could just ask and there would be no judgement cast for waiting extra of anything; that the only time he would be denied is if the request for food or otherwise was truly unreasonable or it would be dinner soon and he’d be given a light healthy option instead to tide him over. Since then the ritual had been two cookies after dinner if that was what desert was and honestly they were both very happy with the new development. By any parental standards, Patton was a good child- kind and sweet and Virgil was proud of him for how hard he studied even if he did have to pry him away sometimes to get him to take a break.

But Virgil had three sons, and he loved the other two with all his heart and was just as proud of them as he was of Patton. That being said- they were not as easy to raise as him.

Roman and Remus were twins and that was exactly where their similarities stopped. Roman was a reasonably quiet child, content with creating his own worlds and being immersed with them until he wanted attention- and you always knew when he wanted attention. He liked dressing up and singing in the halls and decorating cookies with him and Patton. He got along well with the older sibling and played nice even if he didn’t always understand all of Patton’s quirks and hang ups. He was decently behaved and Virgil loved him very much. He loved him as much as he loved Patton and as much as he loved Remus. What he didn’t always love was how scrappy Remus could be.

Well behaved in his own right Remus just did things- oddly. Normal everyday tasks were done but just slightly to the left. Who was Virgil to complain if he still got dishes done but stacked them in increasingly creative ways that would make his heart take a rain check if all their dishware wasn’t plastic? And as long as he hosed off before stepping in the house why would he deny him the joy of burying himself in mud like sand at the beach? And why on earth would Virgil ever yell at him for making a Rube Goldberg machine to feed the fish even if it did make fart noises every time the ball fell to set off another reaction? He was loud and eccentric and springy in the way he did things, but none of that was punishable. He sometimes made Patton nervous with the ideas he spewed thoughtlessly from his mouth with nary a filter to be had but after Virgil talked to him about it he took to coming to him instead and that was just fine.

Virgil considered himself to be a decent parent overall, with wonderful kids that he kept as safe and happy as he could. He had sworn no harm would come to any child to ever find themselves in his care- which was why, as he came out of his reminiscing and chanced a look up at the jungle gym where he knew they liked to play, he very nearly passed out from the adrenaline rush that shoved him off the bench and towards the mess of bars so quickly he would swear he teleported.

“Remus Antony Adrews get your feet on the ground right now!”

Remus for his part, had the presence of mind to look at least a little bit sheepish, balanced only on the balls of his feet while crouched on the highest section of the jungle gym with his hands dangling in front of him. Grinning he waved and shifted just a bit, making Virgil’s poor chest constrict with fright. “I’m fine Dad! Look!”

And then he stood up.

Now, Virgil was no child, at six foot two his head was level with the third quarter of the playset. So it was nothing for him to step up two feet with the bottom rung, catch Remus’ waist with one arm and swing him around to land solidly on his shoulder and step down to safety in one fluid motion. The eight year old’s protests were ignored as he was manhandled to his good shoulder, carrying him all the way over to the bench where he was promptly sat on his lap and secured in his arms. 

“Daaa-aaad!”

“Absolutely not. You are a wild child that must be contained and I will keep you here in a hug where I know you aren’t on the ground with your head cracked open until I stop panicking.”

Remus was silent for a minute, watching Patton and Roman climb around oblivious to what had just happened, too caught up in whatever game they were playing to notice Remus kicking his feet in irritation a few feet away.

“Like an egg?”

“What?”

“Cracked open just like an egg?” Remus clarified.

Scrunching his face at the image provided Virgil only hugged him tighter before sighing into his curly hair. “Yes, Remus. Like an egg. So please don’t do that again okay?”

Remus nodded sagely. “I’ll bury myself in the chips next  time.”

“What no, why would you bury yourself in the chips?”

“I was gonna leap down on them from on top but I’ll just trap their legs!” Carefully smoothing his horrified expression Virgil set his son down in front of him.

“No heights and no chips. How bout you hide behind the turtle instead?” Virgil pointed to the giant plastic turtle tunnel a little ways away from them. “They might expect you to be underneath them because that’s what you did last week- and don’t use that as an excuse to get up high. Running from somewhere not very hidden will throw them off since they expect you to hide well.”

“Oh! Okay!” And with that he was off, leaving Virgil exhausted and wary. He would always swear to keep his kids safe, but Remus could really test the limits of parental instincts.

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[notagamersdey]

The Dream

Painting by: Henri Rousseau

Photo (2021) and Story By Tyler D. Ortiz

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k~

Warnings: bad language, panic attacks

A/N: So this story is inspired by the Pedro Pascal episode of the podcast Talk Art (31:14-34:15). Go check that out if you want to hear some fun stories by the hosts and pp.

Summary: Matias, after losing his chance to act in a popular TV show, is taken to the Museum of Modern Art by his sister where he realizes he has nothing to lose.

~~~

Today, I’m supposed to meet my sister Lyanna here at East Village Pizza. She said it was a special treat for getting my first “big” role on Law & Order. When I told her the news, she had jumped up for joy, squealing my ear off. It wasn’t a big deal, just another job for the bills, but she was adamant that this job was a life changer. She’s says that about every job.

I came to the pizza parlor early, grabbing my favorite seat in front of the window. We normally sat here when we came because it gave us the perfect view of cold, angry New Yorkers. I had ordered our pizza, waiting for her to arrive when my phone starts to buzz.

I open it up and put it against my ear, holding it with my shoulder, “This is Matias.”

“Matias, I'm sorry to tell you…” Fuck, “…but we’ve decided to go in a different direction...” It’s the fucking casting director, droning on, saying those same fucking words, “You have wonderful talent.,” “You didn’t fit the director's vision.,” etcetera. Etcetera. ETCETERA. It's all movie-talk for “You weren't good enough.”

Grabbing the scruff behind my neck, I slammed my phone shut and stuffing it into my jacket pocket. What the hell was I going to do now? Three hundred bucks – gone in an instant.

“Here’s your order, Sir,” A waiter places the small pizza in front of me, and you know, today was one of the rare days I was able to scrounge enough money to afford the luxury of a decent slice of pizza, and now I can’t even enjoy it.

“God dammit,” It’s moments like these when memories of my father came hit me like a freight train. He used to berate me about goals and aspirations, telling me, “It’s never going to happen, Matias,” and “It’s not a job. You won’t get anywhere with that.” In high school, I used to constantly fight with him, telling him my dreams were achievable. That I would succeed as an actor. He would laugh in my face; tell me they were unobtainable. I mean... Maybe he was right.

Now, I’m living in one of the most expensive cities with over 300,000 dollars in debt, 40 bucks to my name, and a dead-beat waiter job at Planet Hollywood that barely pays for food let alone the bills. I have no back-up plan, no emergency fund. I just had my bachelor's degree in acting, which won't pay for shit.

I shake my head. My neck and back start to ache, an oncoming migraine sitting on my temples.

Matias, the fuck do you want to do that for?

Matias, you’re not good enough.

Matias, you will always be alone.

I stand to leave, throwing the untouched pizza in the trash on my way out the door. The cold winter air bites at my nose when I step outside. I pull my scarf up closer to my neck and make my way down East 9th Street.

Leaving the restaurant doesn’t help. Hopelessness rushes over me like a tsunami. The texture of the wool sweater underneath my jacket scratched annoyingly at the exposed skin on my wrists. It’s a cold wintery day but I feel incredibly hot underneath the layers. A nervous sweat builds underneath my beanie. Everyone’s staring, I know it. They know I've failed yet again. They know I’m just a naïve child.

His voice repeats in my head like a tornado siren, yelling, screaming at me, “You will not survive.”

You will not make an income.

You will not have healthcare.

You are setting yourself up for failure.

…You will die- My phone starts to buzz again. I really want to fucking ignore it but if it’s Lyanna, she’d have every cop in the city on my ass within the hour.

“Hey.” I cough, trying to clear my throat. Act normal.

“Mat! I’m sorry I’m late, I’m-” She sounds like she’s running.

“Actually, Sis, I left…” I stop in the middle of the pavement, getting shoved and cursed at by the impetuous crowd around me.

“What? Why?” Her concerned voice seeps through the phone. Suddenly, heat shoots up my back. She’s going to be upset.

I move off to the side, leaning up against a wall of graffiti, “I didn’t get the job after all.”

I hear her let out a breath, “Different direction?” She asks, knowingly.

I nod, “Yea... said I could act the part, but I didn’t fit the type of Latino they were going for... whatever the hell that means.” I spit out, bitterly.

“Means they’re bigoted.” I can hear the annoyed twinge in her voice.

“Yea... probably...” Lyanna stays quiet. “Hey... So, I’m not really up for doing anything... Can we just go home?”

“Umm...” She hums, clicking her tongue, “No.”

“Lyanna...” Please.

“No, no, I’m serious, I know you. Once you get home you're going to sulk in your room for days. Let's bypass the self-pity and go have fun. Take your mind off it.”

I’m silent for a moment, feeling my anxiety subside as I focus on her words, “What do I get if your wrong?”

“A fresh slice of cheese pizza to replace the one you probably threw away...” She laughs, “Now, how ‘bout MoMA?”

“Sure… MoMA sounds good.”

I’ve always found it difficult to find the Museum of Modern Art. The only way anyone would be able to tell where this museum was is with the three bright red banners hanging off the side of the building holding their acronym in an even darker shade of red. This was basically every building in New York so, of course, I pass right by it. Lyanna managed to catch me before I got too far. She runs up to me and immediately linked her arm into mine.

“Hey stranger, took you long enough.” She greats, warmly.

“You know how it is.”

“Oh common, where’s that smile? We are celebrating!” She starts to pull me into the museum, warm air painting my face when she opens one of the doors.

“Celebrating a failure.”

“Celebrating life.”

We walk in and are bombarded with hordes of people packed in front of every corner of the room. It's as if every single person visiting New York had decided that they would all collectively visit the museum on this specific day. Maybe they were having an event. People of all shapes and sizes were packed in front of each art piece, creating a thick barrier preventing outsiders from looking in on their beauty. In the corner of the room is a balloon man handing out replicas of Jeff Koon’s Balloon Dog to children. I clench my teeth at the disgusting sound of rubber and latex rubbing together. I feel a hot prickling in my neck at the sight of a child squeezing the neck of their bright metallic green Balloon Dog, another child on the edge of crying as she violently hit her blue Balloon Dog onto her stroller seat.

Someone bumps into me. I feel myself tense up. Don’t touch me. I take my arms away from Lyanna, hiding them in my pockets. Lyanna looks up at me, “Hey, are you okay?”

Fuck no,“Yes.”

“You sure? You seem tense,” she raises her eyebrow.

“No. No... I'm good... There’s just.” Act normal, “A lot of people.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Everyone is breathing my air - of course I’m not sure. “You wanna start off this way then make our way around?” she asks pointing to her left. I nod.

She guides me to the fifth floor, to our first painting. Shes pushing through the crowds so we could get a closer look. It’s a dark painting with a black, shadowy silhouette of an elephant trudging on an upwards incline. The air around him grey, as if he was pushing through a sandstorm. He is struggling to get to wherever he was headed. I’m suddenly pushed closer to the struggling elephant. Lyanna snaps at someone behind me. A balloon pop’s. A child's scream echo around the room. The dark clouds surrounding the elephant fill my edge of my vision as my eyes zoom into the lonely elephant. My throat begins to close. My heart hurts. A voice in my head whispers “You’re dying. You’re dying.” in a joyous chant. I try to breathe but nothing can get through. My hands prickle. My chest stutters. The elephant fades. Only the shadowing and silhouettes of people fill my vision. I still feel the pain in my throat, as I try to breath in air.

Lyanna speaks but her voice is muffled. The darkness that had overtaken my vision slowly fades away. I sit up straight, feeling the soft leather beneath me, becoming aware of my surroundings. We are in different exhibit. It's completely empty. I shift, feeling the leather bench beneath my finger tips. The silence is soothing.

“You feeling better?” Lyanna sits next to me with a cup of water in her hands, causing the leather beneath creaked.

I close my eyes. God. She grabs at my hand but I pull away. Please go away. I can feel her eyes burning into my soul. It’s unbearable. I turn away from her. Please go away. She grips at the cup tightly. The crunch of the cup is excruciating.

“Matias.” She attempts to grab my hand again. I see it coming from a mile away. Like in slow motion. The closer she got, the more I dreaded the contact.

“Fuck! Stop! Can you please just give me a God damn minute?” I stand up trying to get away.

“What is happening?” She’s mad. You’ve ruined everything.

“I don’t want to be fucking touched, Lyanna. Just stop. Stop everything. Leave me alone.” I’m staring at the floor. If I look at her, I’m going to lose it. Shameful. Embarrassing.

“I’m only trying to help.” You’re an embarrassment.

“You’re not!” She’s going to never going to forgive you.

“Okay…” She stands slowly, “Let’s relax for a moment… I’ll be back in a few minutes… Just text me if you need anything.” I don’t say anything while she walks away, the sound of her shoes fading. I sit back down onto the chair, head in my hands.

I take a few deep breaths, focusing on the ground beneath me. The floor is smooth, my hair is soft and messy, the pressure of my elbows on my knees grow. My eyes leave the floor only to be met with a flood of green. A naked woman waking up on a large red couch in the middle of a jungle. Light green paints the leaves towards the bottom of the canvas and becomes darker going up towards the sky. The bright flowers burst up in different directions as the moon peaks through the canopy. The woman is surrounded by hidden animals. I spot a few hidden tigers, a white bird on the top left, a person hidden in the shadows playing an instrument, a few monkeys in the trees and an elephant beyond the trees staring back at me. It was a paradise. So sure of herself, she sits there facing away from me as if she has nothing to lose. She sits unafraid of the world around her.

I can’t relate. I’ll never get my chance. I’ll never not be afraid. I continue to stare at her, trying to understand what she may have done differently. Maybe she kept going. Maybe she stopped caring. Or maybe someone gave her a chance. Whatever she did must’ve worked because she continues to sit as if she has nothing left to lose –

“Henri Rousseau’s The Dream,” I jump. Lyanna stands on my right, staring at the painting with a hand on her hip, “Most people hate this painting.”

“I don’t see why…”

“Eh… Everybody has their own opinions…” She approaches cautiously, “Do you feel any better?”

I nod. “S-sorry,” I look back to the painting, “I just needed a moment to myself.”

“Don’t apologize… I should’ve… I don’t know, been more mindful, I guess.” She sits down next to me. I can see her hesitate before she puts a hand on my shoulder, “Are you going to be okay?”

I don’t answer at first. I look back at the painting. The Dream she called it. Maybe, this was the woman’s dream. Maybe she is like me. Our chances will arise. She strives towards her peace with nature around her as I strive for success in the asphalt jungle. Just as she has nothing left to lose, I, too, have nothing to lose. We are the same.

“Yea… I think I will be.”

~~~

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think! Let me know if I missed a tag or a warning.

Masterlist || Taglist Form || Youtube || Redbubble

Till Next Time!

-Dey

[emy-loves-you]

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 6

Who the F*ck’s Rebecca? OR How the 3 Gays got Together

Virgil learns about Roman’s childhood, specifically his sister and how he ended up dating Patton and Logan.

Warning: Misgendering of a character (but no one knows that the character is trans)

Yes, Roman and Remus are brothers. Explanations are listed at the bottom

Chapter 5 | Masterlist | Chapter 7

V- (2:07 PM) Let it Go was the best song in Frozen and you cannot convince me otherwise

R- (2:07 PM) I respect your opinion, but hear me out: Love is an Open Door

V- (2:08 PM) No

R- (2:08 PM) What about Fixer Upper?

V- (2:09 PM) Still no.

P- (2:09 PM) I really liked Olaf’s song about Summer!

L- (2:10 PM) I personally enjoyed the reprise of First Time in Forever.

R- (2:10 PM) You like almost any song with a reprise

L- (2:10 PM)I will not argue that, as successfully executed reprises are “lit.”

R- (2:11 PM) Ah, and who among us could forget the absolute BOP that is… that weird ice-cutting song.

P- (2:11 PM) I don’t know, Roman. I think that song is, pretty COOL

R- (2:11 PM) Oh, lookout

V- (2:12 PM) What? He’s just saying it’s a CHILLED out groove.

R- (2:12 PM) Ugh

L- (2:12 PM) We might need you two to leave this chat if you don’t stop.

Virgil laughed, throwing his phone on the bed and stripping out of his clothes. He just finished jogging home from Janus’ (he didn’t own a car right now, preferring to walk or have Janus pick him up). It was a lazy afternoon in late September, and all Virgil wanted to do was get out of these sweaty clothes and maybe take a nap. He heard his phone go off multiple times as he got dressed, probably Patton and Logan arguing about the purpose of puns. He flopped down onto his bed and grabbed his phone, checking the new messages.

P- (2:14 PM) Lo, the Princes are calling.

L- (2:14 PM) Tell Roman not to answer, Patton. We’ve been over this.

P- (2:14 PM) They’re asking about us, Lo.

L- (2:14 PM) Tell Roman to hang up. They’re not worth it.

P- (2:15 PM) They’re yelling now, L. They brought up Rebecca. What do I do?

L- (2:15 PM) Just walk into another room, Patton. Ignore them. Do you want me to call you?

P- (2:15 PM) No, I’m good. Just keep texting me. I need a distraction.

Now, Virgil had no idea about what the fuck was going on. But he knew how to distract someone. He’d just have to trust them to tell him later.

V- (2:16 PM) Did you know that octopi have 3 hearts?

L- (2:16 PM) What

P- (2:16 PM) That just means they have more love to give!

V- (2:17 PM) The longest recorded flight of a chicken is 13 seconds

P- (2:17 PM) Such a good bird!

V- (2:17 PM) Babies do not regularly produce tears until they are 1-3 months old

L- (2:18 PM) Ah, I think I understand now

V- (2:18 PM) A ‘jiffy’ is an actual unit of time. It stands for 1/1000th of a second

L- (2:18 PM) Falsehood. A jiffy is 1/100th of a second

V- (2:19 PM) Sorry, my hand must’ve slipped.

L- (2:19 PM) You would be unable to walk on Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus or Neptune because they have no solid surface.

L- (2:20 PM) An asteroid about the size of a car enters Earth’s atmosphere roughly once a year. However, it burns up before it can reach us.

L- (2:20 PM) The highest mountain known to man is on an asteroid called Vesta. It is approximately three times the height of Mount Everest.

P- (2:21 PM) I think they hung up. Thanks for keeping me company, Kiddos!

L- (2:21 PM) It was not an issue, Patton.

V- (2:21 PM) Yeah, no problem Pat. Now can someone explain what just happened?

L- (2:23 PM) As you can probably tell, I am not home at the moment. Apparently, Roman’s parents decided to call him and an argument broke out. The rest is not my place to say.

Virgil bit his lip, refusing to look at his phone screen. Did Virgil have the right to ask about that. It was obviously a very sensitive topic, and Virgil had only known Roman for about 3 months now. Virgil felt like he knew a lot about his 3 crushes (their quirks, their favorite sweets, their goals in life), but he knew very little about their lives before Virgil had met them. Which was fine; they knew very little about Virgil’s life, too. But he desperately wanted to help Roman; to make him feel happy and safe and loved. Virgil sighed, setting his phone on his nightstand. If Princey wants to tell me what’s going on, I’ll listen. If not, I’ll just have to deal with it.

Virgil woke up from his nap to the sound of his phone going off. He blindly felt around for it, his face still firmly planted in his pillow. He finally found it, turning it on before he lifted his head to read the text. It was a private message from Princey.

R- (3:02 PM) You’re probably wondering what happened today.

V- (3:02 PM) I am, but you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable. I’ll respect your privacy.

R- (3:02 PM) As much as I appreciate that, you still deserve to know.

R- (3:03 PM) Do you mind if I call you? This doesn’t feel like a conversation to have over text.

Virgil thought about it for a moment. He originally never wanted to call Roman, simply because he might recognize Virgil’s voice as Anxiety’s. However, not only was Virgil 99% confident that Roman had never even heard of The Dark Sides, Virgil’s head was still foggy after his nap. Before he knew it, he was already calling Princey’s phone.

“Virgil?” Roman didn’t sound as… grand as Virgil expected. His voice was subdued and slightly hoarse, probably from the screaming match with his parents.

“Heya, Princey.” Virgil cringed at how gravelly his voice sounded. He’ll need to get some water after this conversation is over.

“You sound so tired. Oh my stars, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get back to sleep-”

“Princey, it’s okay. Just finished my nap. Might not talk much, but ‘m all ears.”

“Alright. Where do I even begin?”

“Take your time. ‘m not pressurin’ you or anythin’.”

“(sigh) You’re right. I guess I should start at the beginning. I grew up in a very... conservative household. My parents expected me and my sister, Rebecca, to be perfect. ReeRee was my partner in crime. We did everything together up until highschool. My parents expected me to get a football scholarship and date the hottest girl in school. I did those things, not because I wanted to, but because they wanted me to. ReeRee was a different story. When my parents signed her up for cheerleading, she tried to join the football team instead. When they told her she should wear her hair in a ponytail, she cut it off to match mine. I didn’t understand, and it made me angry. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror; she was starting to look more and more like me, and yet each change made my parents angrier. Why was looking and acting like me a problem? I thought they liked this version of me! One night in the summer before junior year I was really frustrated and I took it out on her. I told her to stop acting like me. I knew she didn’t deserve my anger, so I went to Patton’s place to cool down. By the time I came home, my parents refused to acknowledge that I even had a sister. I pushed her away, and now I’ll never get her back.

After that, things changed. I was so angry, and everything I saw reminded me of her. I quit the football team, because every time I went down to the field I expected to see her. I dyed my hair, because every time I looked in the mirror I saw her staring back. I stopped caring about what my parents thought, ‘cause it was their opinions that dragged me into this mess!

I had already been friends with Patton since Freshman year, but me and Logan had been at each other’s throats . We were always bickering about something, and sometimes I used our arguments to vent out my anger at whatever was wrong at the time. I didn’t even realize how much I had cared about Patton and Logan until I learned about the LGBTQ+ community. My parents were super strict, and Patton and Logan didn’t exactly flaunt their relationship. I had no idea that liking guys was even an option . Once I learned about it, my parents quickly tried to shut it down. Everyday, they’d start their day telling me that ‘homosexuality is a sin’ and ‘God made you to be the gender you were born with!’ If they had told me that before ReeRee left, I might’ve believed them. But by this point, I didn’t care about a single thing they told me.

So one day, I’m arguing with Logan about who knows what, and suddenly we’re inches apart, and I remember pa saying ‘ a boy should never kiss another boy.’ And just think, ‘Fuck it.’ And now me and Pocket Protector are suddenly making out behind the school building. Microsoft Nerd asks why the hell I decided to make out with him of all people, and I break down right there. He agreed to keep it a secret, but he refused to do anything more than a simple make-out session until he had Padre’s consent to do so. Which I understood, consent is important, cheating is bad.

Now we’re having these ‘sessions’ at least once a week for almost 4 months. Patton eventually walked in on us and he was understandably upset. I explained what had happened and that I’ve had a crush on both of them for a while. And they’re like ‘cool, we’re polyam.’ And now I’m starting senior year dating two men, which mom and pa were not okay with. I told ‘em to fuck off and we moved away as soon as we graduated. They still call occasionally, asking when I’m gonna get my life together and get over losing ReeRee. I haven’t blocked ‘em yet in case they find her or change their minds.”

Roman finally took a deep breath. “Sorry about the rant. Didn’t realise how badly I needed to get that off my chest.”

Virgil snorted. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Told ya I’d be a good ear. And Princey?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t gotta do anything to impress someone else. You bein’ you is good enough. And if Rebecca could see you, I’m sure she’d be proud as hell. And don’t be ‘fraid to hit me up if you need someone other than your SOs to rant to; I’ll always be here for ya, Princey.”

“... Thank you, Virgil. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until you said it.” He sighed, and Virgil could hear the sound of running water. “I’m gonna go drink some water. My throat burns like a bitch right now.”

“Same. Catch you later?”

He could hear Roman chuckle to himself. “I guess you shall. Farewell, Storm Cloud. And pleasant dreams!”

Virgil blushed. The way Roman said his nickname… it made Virgil’s gay heart nearly explode. He quickly hung up and buried his face back into his pillow. I’ll get water later. AFTER my heart stops racing.

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

Now, for those of you wondering about why Virgil doesn't realize that Roman and Remus are brothers, I'm gonna put a quick explanation here, 'cause I don't know how to casually fit this into the story. 1.) Remus has never told Virgil his deadname or his last name. He's probably told Janus (since their pretty close) but Virgil doesn't know. 2.) Remus has never told Virgil that his brother's name is Roman. Additionally, when Virgil is talking about the 3 gays, he only calls them "Pat, Lo and Princey." 3.) Roman's parents didn't tell him that Remus transitioned, so he doesn't know that Rebecca now goes by Remus. Also, none of the characters have actually sent pictures of their faces, so none of them have any idea what the other looks like. 4.) It is a total coincidence that both twins moved to the same town. Remus believes that Roman still lives in their hometown, and Remus could be dead for all that Roman knows. There is no logical reason for them to think "maybe Virgil's friends with my long-lost sibling" 5.) Virgil would NEVER out his friends like that. He tells Janus and Remus everything, but he would NEVER betray Roman's trust like that. Same thing for telling Roman about Remus. Roman might know that Remus is trans, but he doesn't know about Remus' background. ONE LAST THING: Roman and Virgil will eventually see each other face-to-face but WON'T recognize each other's voices. This is because during the phone call Virgil is still groggy from waking up and Roman is still hoarse from screaming.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

[drethanramslay]

14 Bryce x mc please🥰

Thanks for the ask anon :)

You can find the prompt list here 

#14- Are you okay?

Word count: 1.1 K words

Warning: Mention of gaslighting, emotional abuse, suicide and self harm

Author’s note: So um.. I was not having the best of days and when I saw this prompt, the flood broke XD 

This is written in first person i.e my mc, Aliya Acharya’s POV

please forgive me if I make any mistakes.

Are You Okay?

I walked down the hallways in a daze. People usually say that I'm a cheery and funny person to hang out with me and that's the truth.

But, a phone call from my parents wipes the slate and leaves me... Empty.

At 28, I thought I would have gotten over the hell they put me through, and that I could just flip them off and carry on but that does not happen. I just can't bring myself to do that.

So I continue walking, with no direction, hoping that the numbness in my chest leaves me.

Someone must have called out to me, but it felt like my head was under water. I might be here physically but my mind was empty, all emotions down the drain. Just a walking drone.

A hand touched my shoulder and forced me to turn towards him.

"Angel! I have been calling you for the last minute." Bryce spoke.

Gulping, I forced a smile on my face. "Sorry, I was busy thinking about the case."

Bryce's eyes scrutinized my face, and I couldn't get my self to meet his eyes.

"No, something is wrong... Are you okay?"

Are you okay?

What a funny question. I mean whenever someone (probably like 2 people) asks me this, I can't help but throw my head back and laugh which usually brings weird looks from them, which eventually leads them to not talk to me for the next decade.

It's not sarcasm. I genuinely find it hilarious.

Because when someone asks me that question, the shitty and fucky reality of my life slams into me like a train wreck.

My life indeed is a series of unfortunate events occurring one after the other and at this point I have accepted it that I was born to suffer.

I'm not trying to pull the "woe is me card". Nah, not into the sympathy kink. It's a universal fact that me, Aliya Acharya is cursed.

I never really talk about it though because when I once tried, my friends, peers, nobody believed me that my parents are actually so toxic that Britney Spears could be jealous.

Why would they anyway? They have met my parents, who are respected people and are held at a pedestal. My dad is an entrepreneur of a large company with a turn over so huge, you would be shocked. And my mother is literally an angel and has her own NGO where she teaches the poor kids of Mumbai basic education. She is a healer and a councellor.

So. why would anyone believe me when I say that they abuse me emotionally?

I tried talking about these things when I was 18 to my therapist, trying to get some guidance, some help. But, that completely backfired on me because she was close friends with my parents.

Just ignore it... Wow what a solid advice.

So yeah, I have given up after that. I used to write my suffering in a diary but after sometime, that also didn't help.

I was numb to everything.

Wake up. Eat. Study. Sleep. Repeat.

I had no social life because well, I have my parents to blame for that. Since a very young age they raised me to be super competitive and that everyone I met, wants me to fail. They would put heavy restrictions on who I interacted with till the late teens.

And it didn't help that I was bullied throughout highschool.

So hello anxiety, depression and self esteem issues.

Being depressed has become a second nature for me. Even though it's been five years since I moved out, I still slip into bouts of depression. No amount of therapy or medication can fix the damage they did to me.

They gaslighted me like the fourth of July. Everyday there was this fix menu of insults which they flung my way, like daggers.

-> you are a disappointment. -> you are abusive -> I have given birth to a monster (that's my mom's favourite line) -> you deserve to die/ you shouldn't have been born( this was said like four times but it counts!)

And the funny thing is if anyone else were to say this to me, anyone other than my family, they would be on the ground with a broken nose.

I mean, why would your own family say such things to you, right?

So I have never spoken about this. I want to move on so bad, but the scars on my legs and my heart are a painful reminder.

I can't even say I'm a survivor because I still suffer. Even though I'm thousands of miles away from them, they always call to tell me 'how I have distanced myself from them' and how 'they don't deserve to be cut off from their daughter's life'.

That really sends me off. It pisses me so much that they are so proud and blinded by this false sense of superiority that they can't see how words hurt. I want to shout at them and tell them how I have a record of how many times I wanted to take my life because of them.

But I don't.

Because they will end up saying I'm hypersensitive and a habitual liar.

I mean what is even the point?

So yeah... I built up a fortress, brick by brick, making my walls high so that absolutely no one can come in.

No one can hurt me.

No one can have that insane power over me.

And no one can see the ugly scars.

But as I stare at those honey brown eyes, with flecks if gold, I find my resolve crumbling. I find myself stumbling.

After the entire ordeal of bullying and gaslighting, I became a very good judge of character... And for the first time in a very long time, I actually see genuine concern.

That someone actually wants my wellbeing. That someone actually gives a damn about me.

And that's scary.

Every time I edge towards opening up, my conscience drags me back, saying that 'This is all a foil to hurt me.'

But... I don't feel the kind of security anywhere but in Bryce's arms. I never feel the reassurance from anywhere but from Bryce. He had been supportive, caring and the affection he shows me is slowly filling up the void my parents left in me.

"Aliya, you know that I'm there for you right?" He said as he placed his hand on my shoulder, pulling me out if my reverie.

And that did it.

That gave me the push to take the leap.

The leap of faith.

Faith that he will catch me when I'm falling apart and he will catch me when I am falling for him.

I took a sharp inhale, and looked up at him, tears welling up in my eyes. That one word, which I had struggled to say all my life, slipped off my tongue like butter.

"No.... I'm not okay."

This was word vomit at its finest.

I might end up deleting it 

Bryce X MC: @loveellamae @lilyvalentine @sanchita012 @zeniamiii @lucy-268 @raleigheffingcarrera @have-aheart @utterlyinevitable @rookie-ramsey

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[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 14

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 14: Something wanders into Alfie and Ella’s life. 

          Ella had never seen the sunset on a beach. She could recall a few times where she’d gone to the beach as a child. Most likely when they were traveling by caravan or maybe even the rare holiday. Somewhere off the coast of wales. But she remembered spending more time around ponds and lakes. The ocean was something so different.

           Living in a city of so many people, it was hard to get a good perspective on one’s impact. Especially since she was a part of such an influential family and living with a man who practically owned Camden. But looking at the ocean made Ella feel so small. Its absolute power and vast size were humbling, to say the least. She could be out floating among the waves and be completely lost within seconds. Just a little speck.

           And yet she felt like the world was pressing down on her shoulders. Why? Why was she standing, her knees buckling under the weight of all the responsibilities that weren’t her own? The guilt and consequences she didn’t deserve? Why couldn’t she handpick out all the things that were hers and let loose the rest? Cut ties with the burdens that did her no good? The burdens that others weren’t meant to carry.

           She could let them drift off into the ocean, never to be seen again.

           “You look a little lost, love.” Alfie murmured, bringing her back to shore.

           “Oh, I…” Ella blinked a few times and started to regain the feeling of the sand beneath her bare feet. “I was just thinking.”

           “’Bout what?” He wrapped an arm around her waist.

           “Don’t you ever want to stay here sometimes?” She glanced up at him. “Stay somewhere calm and peaceful. Somewhere no one will be able to get to you?”

           “S’pose everyone wants peace at one point or another.”

           Her hand moved to his chest. “But it could last. It could stay like this.”

           He frowned when he heard the desperation in her voice. The yearning for something that he was so unfamiliar with. Peace. “Ella, what were you thinking about?” He asked again. “What’s wrong, love?”

           “I’m just so tired. Being here, I feel like I can actually breathe. I love being in Camden with you but I still feel…lost. Don’t feel like I belong.”

           Alfie felt guilt pressing against his chest. He’d sensed her trouble faintly but hoped that as long as he loved her, he could ease that trouble. “I’m sorry, love if I can-”

           “It’s not a matter of what you can do to help it. Alfie, you’ve given me so much already.” She murmured and drew him closer. Her intention wasn’t to make him feel bad. All he’d done was treat her well and took care of her. “They’re my issues. Point is that being here with you, I’ve gotten some perspective. More than I’ve had in the last few months.

           Alfie’s forehead was creased with worry but he nodded, allowing her to continue.

           “We could be like this-stay like this. Stay here. I mean, what good is London to us, aye? It’s perfect here and we’d be so much happier.” She had effectively convinced herself over the last few hours that they had found paradise. No one would ever be able to find them or break through their wall of serenity. It was foolproof. How could anyone in their right mind ruin their happiness?

           “Love, as much as that sounds fucking amazing, it ain’t realistic, is it? C’mere.” He lowered himself onto the sand and held an arm out for her to join him. She cozied up to him even if he was about to break the bad news. “I’d love to just take all the money I have, right, and fuck off to some remote island with you. But we both know that it’d never work out.” He gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’d miss your family.”

           “No-”

           Alfie held up a hand. “’Fore you say that you wouldn’t, think ‘bout it for a mo’. Do you really never want to see them again? I mean, honestly, El, I ain’t stupid.”

           She pouted and wrinkled her nose with a defiant sniff. “Don’t matter.”

           “We can come back here anytime you want, yeah? But you can’t keep running from things you don’t want to fucking see. ‘Cause one of these days they’ll catch up to you.”

           A chill went down Ella’s spine. They had already caught up to her. She was still caught in the middle between the man she loved and the family she vowed to be loyal to. “Okay.” She whispered.

           “Didn’t mean to make you upset-”

           She forced a smile and stood up. “You didn’t. Just tired s’all.”

           “Right, well.” He dug his hand into the sand to stand up with a grunt. “We can head off to bed. Always sleep better here, them waves are like a mother’s lullaby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Ella disagreed. She didn’t sleep at all. Stared up at the ceiling with her hands over her heart. Sounds of the waves, Alfie’s breathing, and Cyril’s snoring were calming. But she couldn’t stop her thoughts from whipping up a storm. Turning her round and round until she was dizzy with anxiety and hurt.

           Soon, it became too much to stay lying in bed. So she did her best to quietly get out of bed and sneak past Cyril on the floor. She walked slowly through the cottage, her arms wrapped around her. The stars were easier to see. There were hardly any clouds in the sky and no pollution to blur the twinkling lights. She watched the sky for a little in the sitting room. The glass wall giving her a good view of where the inky expanse dipped into the ocean. The moon reflecting off every wave.

           Still uneasy, Ella continued her pacing. Passing by the bookshelf of picture frames and into the kitchen. It was a bit quieter on the side facing away from the ocean. In the front room, she could hear crickets outside in the garden. She paused for a moment and started to pick up on a new noise. Soft shuffling in the front lawn.

           Fear perked her senses and she took a step back. It could be any number of people who were willing to follow her to Margate and intrude on the cottage’s peace. Not ruling anyone out, she inched quietly towards the coat rack where her holster was left. She slipped the handgun out and cocked it.

           The noise continued and a soft whining began to move closer to the door. It was squeaky and almost sounded like the whimpers of a newborn. Ella drew back one of the lace curtains that faced the front step. It was too dark to see much but she saw the shadow of something small hobbling around in the lawn. It moved on all fours and she assumed it was a raccoon or fox. But the sounds were unlike anything she’d heard from a woodland critter.

           Almost grateful for the distraction, Ella opened the door. She kept her gun in hand just in case it was some sort of trap. The whimpering paused for a moment and the animal turned to look towards her.

           Ella squinted to try and see what the thing was, moving a bit closer with trepidation. Finally, she came close enough to see that it was nothing to be afraid of.

           Standing in the lawn was a puppy. One so small that its belly was grazing the grass. It whined and approached Ella.

           “What’re you doing, little thing?” She scooped the animal up with one hand. As she did, something wet and sticky touched her skin. It was then that she realized the pup was bleeding.

           Panicked, Ella rushed back into the cottage and turned on a light in the kitchen. Setting her gun aside, she held up the puppy to seek out its wounds. The poor thing was shaking and continued to cry helplessly. There was a gash on top of its head from where the blood had trickled.            

           “Alfie!” She called, not concerned with what hour it was. “Alfie, come quick!”

           The man woke in a disheveled state of alarm. He stumbled out of the bed with Cyril quick at his heels. “What, what?” He found Ella in the kitchen, still half-blind from sleep.

           “It’s bleeding, I dunno what to do!”

           Alfie rubbed his eyes and peered at the little thing in her arms. “Fucking hell, where’d you get that?” He asked.

           “He was out wandering in the yard, I brought him in and…” She held the puppy out to him. “Do something!”

           “Alright, alright, calm down.” He lumbered over and gingerly took the puppy from her hands. After examining the wound, he waved a hand towards one of the cabinets in the kitchen. “Get a towel will ya?” He walked over to the water pump and began carefully washing away the blood.

           Ella retrieved a hand towel and hovered nervously by his side. “Will he be alright?”

           “Yeah, nothing too bad. Already starting to close up. It’s a girl, also.” He informed her as he did his best to keep the squirming puppy still. After successfully rinsing off all the blood, he handed her back to Ella to dry off. Alfie washed his hands and shut off the water. “Must be a stray.”

           Ella wrapped the puppy up like a swaddled infant and held her close. “What breed’s it?”

           “Pitbull.” He answered and scratched his beard. “Sorta have a bad reputation.” With a yawn, he sat down at the kitchen table. “Were used in sport, bred to be vicious.”

           The slate-colored pup hardly looked vicious. She snuggled right up in Ella’s arms and her dark eyes began to slide shut. Exhausted from wandering around in pain all night.

           “Shouldn’t matter what breed they are, should matter who raises them.” She mumbled quietly. “A dog with a mean owner’s bound to be mean too.”

           Alfie watched as she inexplicably came enamored with the furry thing. “You gonna name her?”

           She looked up in surprise. “You mean you want to keep her?”

           He chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t see you ever giving her up. Might s’well name her so we can all go back to sleep.”

           “Oh, I…” Ella thought to herself for a long moment until she finally smiled. “There was a book that Ada used to read me. Silly little thing really. There was a character named Cyril so perhaps we should name her after another one of the children from the book.”

           Alfie looked amused at the prospect and nodded. The idea seemed to delight her so he wouldn’t deny her. “What were the other children named?”

           “Well, there was Hilary and Robert.” She frowned with a puzzled expression. “I can’t remember what the younger sister was named…but the older sister was Anthea. I always loved that name, wanted it to be my own.” Her cheeks went a little red. “But I think it’s perfect.”

           “Anthea?” He stood and gently stroked a hand over the dog, being careful of the injury. “Sounds like a very intriguing name for a mysterious little pup.” He agreed. “What’d you think, Cyril, aye?”

           The mastiff’s tail was wagging with uncertainty but he appeared pleased, albeit a little tired.

           “I suppose that’s a yes, then.” Alfie smiled and kissed Ella’s cheek. “C’mon, love, let’s get to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~

          Alfie offered to go into town the next morning. They’d have to get more puppy chow for Anthea as they’d only brought just enough for Cyril. And the mastiff was certainly not going to share with the little pitbull. Ella offered to go along and the two made their way down the dirt paths to the main road. Alfie holding Cyril’s leash and Ella carrying Anthea like a little babe.

           Alfie knew the town well. He knew some of the folks who lived there year-round but not very well. More often than not, he spent his time there at the cottage and only went to town if he absolutely needed something. But enough people were familiar with him and his reputation. The Jewish gangster from London who liked to take holidays on the shore.

           He was most acquainted with the older couple that owned a shop along the main road. A few years ago they had explained that they were going bankrupt because of the wife’s failing health. Alfie didn’t hesitate in the slightest. He stepped in and saved the store, all while ensuring the woman got proper care from a well-respected doctor. Ever since then, Margaret and Frank Robinson treated Alfie like one of their sons.

           “’Morning Peggy.” Alfie greeted as he walked inside, Cyril by his side. Ella had gone across the street to a boutique with Anthea, lured over by a few dresses in the window.

           “Alfie!” The older woman’s face broke into a smile. “Was wondering when you’d show your face this summer. I hope you haven’t been working too hard.” She scolded.

           “Found a better balance.” He admitted honestly. Ella certainly had given him a better balance. “You and Frank alright?”

           “Just fine, haven’t been coughing as much.” She began tending to a customer at the till. “Doctor in London’s done wonders.”

           “Good to hear, good to hear.” He let her cash out the man, heading back through the aisles.

           “Alfie, my boy!” Frank was stacking cans when he looked up. “I thought I heard your voice. But, eh, my hearing’s going so I thought it was just an illusion.”

           He chuckled and shook the man’s hand. “S’long as you can hear your wife, don’t matter do it?”

           Frank laughed and knelt down to scratch Cyril’s ears. “Hello, Cyril, look healthy, aye? Oh, Alfie,” He glanced up and pointed towards the counter where Margaret was making change for the customer. “Man over there’s lost a pup. Haven’t seen little pitbull ‘round have you? Think he lives by your cottage so it may’ve wandered over to you.”

           A shock went down Alfie’s spine. “I’ll talk to him.” He agreed and returned to the counter.

           The man by the till was just starting to take his bag of groceries from Margaret. He was a squirrely looking man with a thin mustache and shifty eyes. Not much taller than Alfie but thin as a stick.

           “Heard you’ve got a dog missing, mate.” Alfie’s voice was a bit louder than necessary, scaring the man who hadn’t heard him approaching.

           He turned and nodded. “Little pitbull, thirteen weeks I think.” His voice stammered under Alfie’s steely glare. “S’a blue-nose. Got a white paw.”

           “Hm…” Alfie pretended to think to himself, leaning back and forth on his cane. “Might’ve heard some scuffling ‘round my cottage. Anything else ‘bout it? I’ll keep an eye out for it.”          

           “Erm, she’s got bit of an injury on her head.” The man’s eyes averted, jerking to the side to avoid Alfie’s stare.

           “That right?” Alfie’s hand gripped tightly onto Cyril’s leash. He wanted so badly to beat the man into a bloodied pulp. But he wouldn’t bring that sort of chaos into the Robinsons’ store. “What happened?”

           A sour look crossed the man’s face. He clearly didn’t like the question. Maybe because he knew Alfie wouldn’t like the answer. “Does it matter?”

           His jaw clenched. “Nah, mate, guess it don’t. Where’d you live, I’ll bring the pup ‘round if I find her.”

           “Uh, sure…” The man gave Alfie his address, only half a mile away from the cottage.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           After watching the man skitter off, Alfie finished his shopping. Anger coursed through his veins but he did his best to keep it under wraps. He crossed the street to find Ella at the boutique.

           One of the shop girls at the counter looked alarmed when the rough-looking man entered with his massive dog. “Erm…sir, could you leave your dog outside?”

           Alfie didn’t even look at her. “No. El?” He called.

           A curtain covering one of the changing rooms was pushed back. “Are you done already? I’ve only tried on two dresses.” She pouted.

           He stopped in his tracks. She had on a black dress with a fitted beaded bodice and fringe that began mid-thigh and ended by her knees. She looked like a positively sinful angel.

           Ella saw the glint in his eyes and she smiled playfully. “D’you like it?” She turned around a few times to show off.

           “Like it? Love, it’s gorgeous on you.” He replied huskily. A hand dragged over his mouth. “You want it?”

           She bit her lip and nodded shyly.

           “Right, any others you’d like?”

           “Yes, but you can’t see anything else. They’re a surprise.” She warned and grabbed her purse out of the changing room. “Here, Anthea’s asleep.”

           Puzzled, Alfie took her purse and found the pit bull pup contently curled up inside, her head lolled out the side as if it were meant to be a dog bed. Simply put, Alfie would buy the entire store for Ella if she’d like. He’d get her a million puppies. And he’d get justice for her puppy. She was much more than a pretty face to him. She deserved respect and peace. And Alfie was sure she’d sleep much better knowing the son of a bitch who hurt Anthea suffered some consequences.

           While Ella changed back into her regular clothes, Alfie paid for her purchases. He didn’t even bat an eye at the price. She returned and took her purse and Anthea back. “What time’s it?” She linked arms with Alfie, pressing her cheek into his arm.

           “Um…” He checked his pocket watch. “Half-past noon.”

           “Are you all set here? I need to make a phone call soon.” The joy in her blue eyes faded.

           “Sure, love. We can head back home.”

           It was home. They had their home in Camden but Margate had already become a home to them.

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

           “Do I hafta wait for my surprise?” Alfie gently set Anthea down on the kitchen floor, offering her a bowl of food. Cyril sulked behind him, even though he’d had his share.

           “Yes, until tonight.” Ella went into the hall, closing the kitchen door behind her to give herself some privacy.

           “Testing me patience,” Alfie mumbled to the dogs.

           Ella took a deep breath and reached for the receiver. Her hand trembled slightly but she pushed through and dialed the number. The brief wait for an answer was agonizing.

           “Shelby.” Tommy’s deep voice had become so foreign after her months away from him.

           “Tom, it’s Ella.”

           There was a pause as he struggled with the shock of her call. “El? Where are you calling from?” He thought the operator had said Margate but he was nearly certain Ella was in London with Alfie. Last he heard, they’d been living together ever since her release from prison.

           “It doesn’t matter.” She swallowed and curled the phone wire around her hand. “I need to speak to you.”

           “No one’s heard from you in quite some time.”

           “That’s not what I’m calling about.”

           “What’re you calling about then?”

           Ella’s stomach turned with anxiety. She was afraid of what she might hear. But the prospect of failing to get the information was enough to get her to press on. “I need to know why you had the family arrested.”

           There was a soft sigh from the other end of the line. “You’ve all been released, what’s it matter anymore?”

           His disregard made her grimace. “Because it was all very traumatic for us and I want to know what grand plan you had.” She demanded. “I think I’ve a right to know why you were so keen on sacrificing us. What’d you get in return?”

           “That’s information for those involved in the Shelby Company Limited.”

           “Don’t even start that fucking nonsense with me!” She snapped. “I’ve had enough with your behavior. Either you tell me or I swear to God…”

           “You’re threatening me now, El? Alfie rubbed off on you, aye?” Tommy’s voice filled with venom.

           Hearing him speak Alfie’s name with such distaste was enough to make Ella want to scream at him until the sun went down. Her body quivered with anger as she tried to hold back. “Thomas, tell me. I will not lose the man I love because of your insolence.”

           Tommy was confused. “What do you mean?” He asked.

           The image of Inspector Blackwell’s smug smile crossed her mind. If she needed to make amends with Tommy even for a second to save Alfie from arrest, then she would do it. “A detective from Scotland Yard has been threatening me.”

           Her brother pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ian Blackwell.”

           “He approached you as well?”

           “Yes. And you are not to tell him anything.” Tommy warned in a low voice. “I’m handling it.”

           As much as it angered her, hearing him say that was a little relieving. At least her brother could handle himself with police. “He’s going to arrest Alfie.”

           “And why should I stop him?”

           Ella nearly bit right through her tongue with fury. “Because I’ll never fucking look at you, speak to you, mention your name, or think of you.” She snarled. “For once in your life, stop thinking about yourself and think about the family you supposedly love.”

           Tommy was quiet for a while. “He won’t arrest Alfie.” He replied firmly. “But you need to call me if Blackwell ever approaches you again.”

           The fear on Ella’s shoulder released in an instant. “Thank you.” She said quietly.

           Her brother hummed an acknowledgment. “You’re alright, then?”

           Ella unwound the phone cord from her hand. She was eager to end the conversation and return to paradise with Alfie, Cyril, and Anthea. “Do you even care?”

           “Yes.”

           She frowned and lowered the receiver away from her ear. She held it over the hook, only inches from hanging up on him. It was reasonable. She could just end the call. End the discussion. End the line of contact between her and Tommy. But then she would just be using him the way he used her and the rest of the family. She always thought she was better than that.

           Slowly, she lifted the receiver back to her ear. “I’m fine, Tom. Better than I’ve been for a long time.”

           “That’s good.” Tommy cleared his throat. “That’s good to hear.”

           “And you?”

           “Busy.” The word was clipped and obviously there was much more behind the response. It was a clear indicator that things were not okay.

           “Alright-”

           “I’ve got to head off to a meeting, El. Thank you for telling me about the inspector.” He sounded as if he were ending a call with a business associate.

           “Okay.” She whispered and allowed him to end the call. She returned the receiver onto the hook and stood stock still in the hallway. Alfie was safe. Tommy had actually done her a favor. And now she could return to her life with her love without having any debts.

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Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[the--highlanders]

14. Love

on ao3.

The landing hall was packed with people, the walls pressing in around them until the place felt shrunken and airless. Only yesterday it had been indescribably huge, the marble floors and carved stone ceiling cold and unfriendly, but now Jamie was burning with anticipation and nervousness, shifting his weight from side to side impatiently, and he had no heart to admire the architecture. He had waited seven days, but the last few minutes were somehow the worst of it all. Glancing around, he saw his agitation reflected in the faces of the people around him, saw it in children bouncing up and down and tugging on adults’ clothes, in the clenched fists of brothers and sisters and husbands and mothers, in the flower wreaths and baskets of fruit carried by some.

But it was not quite the same, he reminded himself. It might have been – would have been, even – but he had just had to go and do something stupid.

It had seemed so simple – to shout out I love you, just as the Doctor boarded the rocket, just as it was too late for him to reply. A cowardly move, perhaps. But it had been said, and that was all that mattered. At least, he had thought so at the time, before the nail-biting anxiety of waiting set in. It had been seven days of torture, not knowing what the Doctor had thought, or if he would even speak to him when he returned.

If he leaves me behind, this wouldn’t be such a bad place to stay, he had told himself firmly.

Ben and Polly wouldn’t let him do that, he had thought.

 He wouldn’t do that.

 Would they?

 Would he?

A great rumbling shook the floor of the hall, shaking the gilded chandelier that hung above them. The people around him clutched at each other, some shushing children that had begun to wail. He stood amongst it all in silence, rooted to the spot, then began to push himself to the front of the crowd, as determined as if he were possessed. The Doctor would almost certainly be the first one out, the hero of the hour, as keen to soak up the attention as he was to deny that he enjoyed it. He could hear the shouts of the landing-stage staff beyond the door, hear the crash of the rocket landing and the clunk of its sides opening, the chatter of voices – his heart was pounding so hard that he thought it would surely give out before he even saw the Doctor -

The first cluster of people burst through the door, and the crowd around him erupted into cheers, but Jamie could only stare at them blankly. All five of them were complete strangers to him. The Doctor was not there.

Another group came into the hall after them, young men who were immediately descended upon by a gaggle of older women, embracing them and placing flower crowns on their heads. They beamed out at the rest of the hall, raising their arms in triumph. Each of them bore neatly patched-up scratches and scrapes, and one or two moved gingerly, betraying worse injuries.

More and more people were pouring in from the rocket now, and Jamie’s blood ran cold. He should have insisted that he go with the Doctor. There had been nobody to look after him, to stop him from doing something dangerous. On any other day he would have fought the issue right up until the Doctor stepped on board, and after that too – but he had gotten that idea into his head, to tell the Doctor he loved him. And now the Doctor was nowhere to be seen.

The hall was beginning to empty, families clutching at each other as they headed outside and home again. Jamie watched each of them go, but he could never tear his eyes away from the new arrivals for long, his heart leaping every time the door was pushed open. The happy chatter of reunited people around him was drowned out by the rushing sound that filled his ears. The Doctor must be somewhere, he thought. They would tell us if something terrible had happened. Someone would have said something.

 Wouldn’t they?

Maybe he had brought it upon himself, a nasty little voice deep inside him was saying. Just by speaking the words he had told himself he would never say. How could he have been so selfish? Could he not have kept it to himself, contented himself with the Doctor’s friendship, not been so bold as to ask for more? Could he not have just accepted that he would have to live with his longing, rather than trying to get something he did not deserve?

Distantly, he was aware that his legs had begun to shake, weakened by the adrenaline draining out of his system. He sunk to his knees, eyes glazed over, though whether with disbelief or tears he did not know. The opening and closing of the door had faded into white noise, the people around him little more than faceless clusters. All he knew was that none of them were the Doctor. Nobody was coming to forgive him for what he had said.

The door was pushed open again, and two men hobbled through, one leaning heavily on the other. Jamie glanced up briefly, saw that the stronger of the two was a stranger, and looked away – then slowly raised his head again. The person leaning on him was the Doctor, hunched over and looking so small and tired that he almost vanished into his coat. Jamie all but leapt to his feet, rushing over to stop just short of the pair.

“What happened?” he demanded. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Jamie.” The Doctor’s voice was faint, but he still managed a weak smile. The fond rebuke in his tone should have settled Jamie’s nerves, but it only made him antsier, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I’m quite alright.”

“You’re not alright.” The Doctor stumbled, and Jamie reached out to him instinctively. “What’ve ye gone and done to yourself?”

The other man had stepped back to let Jamie take the Doctor’s weight, half-turned away from them. “He had to plug himself into the Xenii mainframe,” he put in. “We only just managed to get him off their ship before it blew up, and...” He swallowed. “It took its toll on him.”

“Will he be alright?” The other man glanced down at his feet instead of replying. “Well, will he be?”

“I’ll be fine.” The Doctor raised one hand to pat Jamie’s arm, but erupted into a bout of coughing. “Don’t worry about me,” he added, altogether too hoarsely to be believable. “I just need time, that’s all.”

“You’re gonnae rest.” Wrapping the Doctor’s arm around his shoulders, Jamie took him by the waist and guided him into taking a small step across the hall. “Ben an’ Polly are at the control station, we’ll – we’ll find them an’ get ye some help.”

“No need,” the Doctor was saying, but Jamie only gripped him more determinedly. “Ah – not so tight, Jamie.”

“Oh.” Cheeks prickling, Jamie loosened his hold. “Sorry.” He nodded to the other man as they passed him, mouth pressed into a poor semblance of a smile. “But we’re gonnae look after ye, alright? An’ then, maybe -” Embarrassment flooded over him once again. In the panic of seeing the Doctor so hurt, he had entirely forgotten why he had been waiting with such nervousness. “Maybe we can talk.”

“We can talk now,” the Doctor protested.

“You’re in no fit state,” Jamie insisted. “An’ neither am I, tae be honest with ye.”

“I love you too.”

“An’ I don’t think – what?”

“I love you too.” The Doctor had pulled him to a halt, holding him still to meet his eyes.

Surely he couldn’t mean it, Jamie thought. Not like that. It couldn’t be so simple. “You’re a wee bit confused,” he said faintly. “Pluggin’ yourself intae that thing, it – it just mixed ye up a bit, that’s all – ye don’t mean it, not how I mean it -”

The Doctor laughed incredulously. “I can assure you, I’ve never been clearer about anything. And I most certainly do mean it how you did. That is, unless -” He twisted himself from side to side, pulling at his hands. “That is, unless you don’t mean it how I mean it.”

For all his disbelief, a smile was spreading uncontrollably across Jamie’s face. “Ye really, really mean it?”

“I really, really, do.” The Doctor was beaming too now. “Oh, Jamie...” He raised one hand, cupping Jamie’s cheek, and Jamie leant into it, closing his eyes. “Never do that again. Seven days was too long to wait to say it back.”

Despite himself, Jamie laughed too. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” Now he had started laughing, he found he could not stop. Something giddy had taken root in his chest, and he knew it would take more strength than he had to uproot it. What was more, he found that he did not want to. The Doctor loved him. And he loved the Doctor, too. “Seven days was a long time tae wait to find out if you’d say it back.”

“Of course I would.” The Doctor bit his lip. “You are quite sure, aren’t you, that you – ah – that you mean it – like that?”

The idea of saying it aloud – yes, I’m in love with you, I have been for ages now – was just a little too much, Jamie thought. His heart surely couldn’t take much more, what wih the waiting and the worrying about the Doctor and now the absolute elation that filled him up to press against his ribs. Instead he leant in and kissed the Doctor, clumsy and tentative, nose bumping against the bandage that covered the graze on his cheek. The Doctor’s hand moved from his own cheek to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, and when he pulled away he kept them close, foreheads pressed together.

“I think I meant it like that,” he said quietly, and the Doctor broke into a laughter that was almost as hysterical as Jamie felt, clutching at his side and wheezing in between coughs and splutters.

“You’re going to do me an injury, Jamie McCrimmon,” was all he said, still laughing.

“I hope not.” Taking hold of him again, Jamie set off towards the door. “But it’s a good thing you’ve got me tae patch ye up again.”

[kay-diggle]

“Broken.” (Series Proposal)

Note: Hey guys! So I’m still working on requests but in the mean time, I’m writing some of my own material as well. This new series is one that I’ve been playing out in my head for about two years but I guess I’ve never really had the courage to write it until now. I have the first few chapters written but I’ve always thought they were too bland and uninteresting, but my friend once told me to post it anyways because there’s bout to be someone out there who will like it, so I’m taking her word for it. I’m going to post the first chapter now and I know a lot of us like to be silent readers and that’s fine, but I’m literally BEGGING here for some feedback. I really want to know if this is something people would actually like to read! So please please please say something, anything! Literally anything would be helpful! Thanks bbys <3

[Proposed story] Summary: Y/N shut out her feelings and thought she would never love again. But then she met him. What happens when an American girl groups joins an internationally know Korean boy band on tour? 

Genre & Rating: Fluff, Smut, Angst (the whole sha-bang), 18+

Warnings: This chapter is pretty light. Just notice the bold dialogue is when the characters are speaking in Korean, any other time please assume it’s in English :)

Length: 1.3 words

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CHAPTER 1 

A 14 hour flight from the grand state of New York to the extremely foreign country South Korea? Yeah, you weren’t feeling it at all. However, you took the trip to please your band mates, managers, and everyone else involved. Now you were in the BigHit company building feeling, and quite frankly looking out of place, awkwardly standing by the door of the waiting room you all were currently in. 

“A smile won't do you any harm y/nnnnn,” your best friend Dana said, dragging out your name and pinching your cheeks forcing your face into a smile. 

“No… but if you don’t let go of my fucking face, I’LL do YOU harm,” you replied sarcastically smiling. 

Dana traded pinching your cheeks to holding both of your hands in hers. 

“Look at me. I know you’re not all that excited or happy to be here. But think about it this way… it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, yeah? We’ll get to travel the world, meet a bunch of our fans and we are touring with the biggest boy band in the world. Great exposure.”  

“Hmmm… as if the ‘exposure’ we got on that stupid TV show wasn’t enough,” you said, voice laced with venom. It always was when you thought about your high school days. 

In high school, your group ‘Almost Angels’ starred in a reality television show based on your lives along with some friends called “Beyond the Lights.” It showcased your growing up, going from kids to teenagers to young adults in the public eye for everyone to see. It really put a strain on your lives in some aspects, so to say that you had a few hostile feelings towards the show would be an understatement. 

“I thought we said we’d stop with the BTL slander,” Dana said referring to the show. “You act like NOTHING good came from the show. We graduated two years and look at us now,” she said while glancing all around the room you were currently being held in until the real negotiations could begin. 

“Yes… I know, I know..”

Suddenly, a few BigHit workers came and directed your group and managers into an official board meeting room. Inside of the room sat what seemed to be a few BigHit executives along with seven of the most beautiful men you had ever seen in your life. The seven of them that you recognized as the members of BTS stoop up. 

“Hello, we are BTS,” they introduced themselves and bowed. 

“Hello. I’m Naomi and these are my band members: Chanel, Kali, Dana and y/n,” she said introducing them in Korean and bowing, prompting the rest of them to do so as well. 

Naomi was born from an interracial relationship, her mother being African American and her dad being born and raised in South Korea. Her parents met when her mother did a study abroad program during her senior year in college and the rest was history. Naomi’s black culture dominates her life in America but her father made sure that her Korean culture was also very present, which is why she can speak it so fluently and knows the important customs. 

“Okay, my turn,” Namjoon smiled his dimpled smile and chuckled, slightly surprised by Naomi’s introduction. “I’m Rm, this is Suga, Jin, Jungkook, J-hope,  and Jimin. It’s really nice to finally meet you all!”

Everyone went around shaking hands and/or hugging while you had felt even more out of place. Aside from not really wanting to be in your current predicament, you also had social anxiety and weren’t always very comfortable meeting new people.

After everyone got their introductions out of the way, the CEO of BigHit, Bang PD, finally made an appearance. After a brief introduction from him and a few of his colleagues or employees, it was time to get down to business. The negotiation between your two groups and your teams were very successful, in part because some of the terms were already agreed on beforehand, and the other part due to a few translators being present and constantly taking the conversation from English to Korean and vice versa. 

During the entire two hour meeting, you  were completely spaced out. You honestly didn’t care about any of the terms they were setting, you just wanted to get into a hotel room and sleep as the jet lag was hitting you hard. You were dazed off, chin in palm, and thought that no one had noticed. 

But they did. More specifically, he did. 

Jimin, who you didn’t even know yet was so transfixed by your presence that he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Something about you was just so… magnetic, and he didn’t even have the courage to get up and say something to you, as he had missed you in the initial round of introduction. So that’s why when you were sitting in the corner by yourself on your phone, he could only stare at you from a distance. 

“Go talk to her,” Taehyung said, walking up to Jimin and completely catching him off guard, making him jump. 

“What are you talking about?” Jimin turned from you. 

“I’m talking about how you keep staring at that girl like a creep. Go say hi.” 

“I can't just… ‘go say hi’ Tae.” 

“And why not?” 

“Because….“ he replied sheepishly, looking away from Tae’s eyes in embarrassment. He couldn’t even explain it, but there was just something about you. Something that excited him but also scared the hell out of him in the same breath. 

And with a roll of his eyes and Jimin’s wrist in his grasp, Tae pulled him over to where you were sitting, and you couldn’t explain the amount of fear that ran through your body when you noticed two figures hovering over you, making you shift in your seat as you were extremely uncomfortable.

You played it off though, as if you didn’t sense them standing over you. That was until you heard one of them cough to get your attention. You slowly lifted your head, your eyes automatically connecting with the man in front of you. You figured he was a member of the band and didn’t want to come off as being rude, so you smiled at him and he smiled back, giving you the brightest smile you had ever seen. It was so bright that his eyes almost completely disappeared behind his eyelids, and you swore that in that moment, you’d never seen anything cuter. 

“Hi, I’m Taehyung, remember?” 

“Yes! Hi again!” 

“Well, this is Jimin. I think you two missed each other the first time and he just wanted to say hi.” 

“Ohh,” you said standing up, preparing to greet him. “Hi, Jimin. I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you,” You smiled again, taking his hand in yours to shake. 

At this point, Jimin was just staring at you, not letting go of your hand. You felt a sense of relief when Chanel called you over to the girls, saving you from the otherwise awkward encounter. You hurriedly excused yourself from the two boys, departing with a quick smile in both of their directions. 

Once you were out of ear reach, Taehyung turned back to Jimin. “See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” 

But Jimin couldn’t respond. He could barely even move. He just stood there, looking completely starstruck, and now Tae was worried. 

“Jiminie?” he asked, placing a hand on the boy in question’s shoulder to try and get back at least some of his attention. 

“Holy shit,” Jimin whispered more to himself than anything.

“What man…..? What’s wrong?” 

Jimin turned to his friend and gave him the most serious look he could muster. “I think I might be in love.”

[denrbough]

‘a dear friend’

LIke family, but not like family

Summary: It’s 7:30 in the morning on a Wednesday when Bill’s eyes scan around the room, looking for something comfortable to train his eyes on. After the death of their father at the age of seventeen, most eyes would be swimming in tears sitting in the funeral home, trying to decide which blurry picture to use as the memorial card. Regardless, Bill Denbrough’s eyes are dry. It’s not that he hated Zack Denbrough, but he feels as if for the past six years, he hasn’t known him, and his view up until age eleven would have been very biased. Most little boys want to grow up just like their fathers, and Bill used to, even when he wasn’t someone to look up to.

in other words, au where the losers meet in high school in a youth therapy group.

Taglist: @purplelittlepup

It’s 7:30 in the morning on a Wednesday when Bill’s eyes scan around the room, looking for something comfortable to train his eyes on. After the death of their father at the age of seventeen, most eyes would be swimming in tears sitting in the funeral home, trying to decide which blurry picture to use as the memorial card. Regardless, Bill Denbrough’s eyes are dry. It’s not that he hated Zack Denbrough, but he feels as if for the past six years, he hasn’t known him, and his view up until age eleven would have been very biased. Most little boys want to grow up just like their fathers, and Bill used to, even when he wasn’t someone to look up to.

Mr. Denbrough died at the age of 45 from liver failure, after a damn near lifetime of being an alcoholic. Bill made the decision when he was 14 never to touch a bottle of liquor, and not to get very drunk. Now, he’d realized, is the time to know I don’t want to be him.

Meanwhile, Sharon is sitting near him with a chair in between, so drunk that Bill’s quite sure she’s sweating booze.

He turns his attention back to the funeral director, who’s going on about the pros and cons of cremation. Despite the serious mood, Bill chuckles in remembrance of what Richie had said to him the other day. “He should totally get cremated, all the vodka will have him up in flames in no time!” man, Richie could be a dick, and he doesn’t think before he speaks, and always smells like ax bodyspray, but honestly, Bill doesn’t know what he’d do without the kid.

“Mr. Denbrough, you alright?” Mr. Conch asks him in his even voice. Bill looks him in the eyes and nods.

“I’m just really in my head,” he says slowly, floating back into the real world. Between his lag and his red eyes, he’s sure now that it’s obvious he’s high. And with his mother with tear-stained cheeks looking disassociated, it’s obvious that Mr. Conch is about to say what comes out of his mouth next.

“How about I call tomorrow? You’ve both had a long week and probably need some time alone,” he says amiably, closing the book he’d been reading from. “We have until Monday and as long as you send me the information I can take care of things here. We want to make this transition as easy as possible on you two. Go home, rest” he insists, standing up from his chair to make it clear he’s serious. 

Sharon collects her coat and puts it on, putting her purse over her shoulder and making her way out, not watching to see if Bill is following. He hurries himself to get up and follow but Mr. Conch stops him with a hand on his shoulder, silently handing him a pamphlet. “Teen Substance Abuse and the Risks.” he embarrassedly puts it away in his pocket before he’s handed a business card that he doesn’t read until he’s on his way out back to his truck to drive he and his mom home. “Grief Management Youth Group.” before he opens the car door he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Hey, Siri, can you s-save a date and time r-r-reminder for me?” he puts in the date for the next meeting based on the schedule on the card. He opens the driver’s side door and gets in.

Two days later, the sun is up and Bill gets out of bed, the funeral isn’t for three more days and nothing feels quite real yet. He feels as if he’s living in a diorama, he’s walking through a fake version of his world. With this coincidence, his phone goes off as he gets fresh clothes on after a shower. “Youth Group Thing” the screen reads as it rings. And even more surprisingly, he puts on his shoes and decides to go.

He listens to the radio on the way to the library where the meetings take place, parking close to the front as it’s early enough in the morning not to be busy yet. He shoves his hands in his sweatshirt pockets and walks down to the conference room, a few teens already sitting on chairs and talking. Before he walks in he peers through the window at each of them, none of them sitting properly on their chairs.

He opens the door and walks in, looking down at first and looking up once he’s in. “Hi, I g-got r-referred here, am I e-e-early?” he asks, not seeing anything formally going on. His face is flushed from the embarrassment of seemingly being the only new kid.

“No, this is it,” a girl in a beanie says with a pop of her gum. “You know this town, the guy supposed to talk to us never shows,” she says with a scoff. Bill starts to walk closer to sit in a chair and she stops him. “Name and state of orphanhood,” she says as she points a firm finger at him.

“William Denbrough. Lost my dad a few days ago,” he says, standing up a little straighter but averting his eyes and licking his chapped lips awkwardly. He shifts his weight to his left foot instead of his right and looks at the floor after a moment. 

“Bev, chill out,” A taller teen boy says, he’s rather handsome and Bill recognizes him as being known as the only black kid in town. He’s never met him, but he’s also never judged, most of the teens don’t, they’re not as closed-minded as the adults of the small town of Derry, Maine. “Go easy on ‘im, fishes are friends, not food,” he starts to chuckle as he speaks and by the end of the sentence they’re all cracking up. All but Bill. It only makes sense, they know each other well enough to have inside jokes.

Bill finally takes a seat in a chair, one not next to anyone else. “Hey, might not want to get too comfortable, we’re heading out soon, Friday adventures,” one boy with dark roots and blond hair grins. He’s shorter than the others, almost looks younger, but the look in his eyes portrays something like wisdom. 

“Fr-Friday adventures?” Bill asks, tumbling over the words even in such a short statement. Damn this stutter, damn his mom honestly, and damn the car accident she blames it on. He’d try and say it’s a nervous tick, but it happens even when he’s not consciously nervous, deep-rooted anxiety that he doesn’t know how to quiet. “Don’t w-we sit here and like, talk ab-bout how we feel about the p-p-people we’ve lost?” he asks, knowing that’s what was advertised to him, and it was something he wasn’t necessarily looking forward to. Maybe this is better, that is if they let him come with. The idea of “adventures” always strikes an intrigue in him.

“Not without a moderator,” shrugs another boy with a soft and plump face and an almost forlorn voice, shoving his phone into his sweatshirt pocket and standing up, “Mike, can I come with to go warm up the car?” he asks suddenly. He doesn’t seem to want to sit around here and talk anymore, Bill gets the idea that the boy doesn’t want to answer any more of his questions, and almost the cold breeze of being unwelcomed. 

“I can uh- l-l-leave? I don’t th-think five people c-can fit in a car,” Bill gets up suddenly in contrast to his soft words. His body is tall and lanky and he’s not quite in his mind enough to control it less clumsily. He’s about to put his hands in his pockets and walk out when the supposed Mike blocks the door. 

“Nah, you can have shotgun, you look like you need it. And five seat just fine, especially with tiny Eddie who’s so kind as to sit in the middle so we’re not all squished,” Mike offers, grinning in the direction of the boy with the dark roots, that must be Eddie.

“Fuck you,” Eddie says as dimly as he can and nonchalantly raises his left middle finger before he finally breaks the act and cracks a smile. “Beverly isn’t allowed to smoke next to me though, she’ll have to go a ride without a cig,” he says in a fake sympathetic voice geared at her with a matching overexaggerated expression. Then the boy gets up and Bill almost chuckles out loud, he can’t be any taller than 5’3, which Bill can’t judge much at 5’8, but he still is a good head above him.

Bev suddenly gets up from her seat (rather extravagantly as she’d been truly sitting as if she was a contortionist). “Careful red, we already have a ginger here,” she says with a playful smile and rustling the hair on the top of his head confidently. “It’s time to go. Mike said you can have shotgun but I get it on the way back,” she runs herself with such power that Bill can only nod in response to her sureness. He’ll have to be a bit careful of her, seemingly the fireball of the group, and fireball burns going down. Mike good cop, Beverly bad cop.

It takes them over a half an hour but they all get comfortable in the car, none of them but Mike and Eddie are buckled, and the pudgy boy with the sort of bowl cut is still quiet until they’re about to pair Eddie’s phone to the Bluetooth because he has Spotify premium. “So, your name is Bill, but what are you into? We usually dick around at the arcade, it’s bum empty during school hours. But it’s sunny enough to introduce you to the quarry if you don’t mind getting your jeans wet. I’m Ben by the way,” he introduces, with the new statement from Ben, Bill begins to realize that nobody in this group is really genuinely in charge, he likes that. 

“God I don’t care if he wants to stay dry, I need a swim,” Mike laughs, kicking the car in the gas pedal and wheezing it to a start, backing out of the library parking lot and down the road to a turn Bill’s never noticed before.

It’s an unpaved road, more of an extra-wide trail, but there are tire marks from the obvious times they’ve come through before. The trees are starting to turn yellows and reds and oranges, a drive through the forest like this is like walking through a painting of warmth, the sunlight peeking through and showing drier patches of dirt. It’s beautiful, and he has no idea how he hasn’t seen it before. The drive seems longer than it really is, soaking up all the beauty Bill can take enough brainpower to slow down time.

Then comes a clearing of trees, showing a cliff that drops off into a sinkhole, rocks, and branches coming out the sides on the way down from the greenery that had been there when the sinkhole developed. Before Bill has even taken in the scenic view, the others are climbing out of the car and pulling off their shirts and pants, “Don’t worry, Bill, we’ve got towels in the trunk for days like this,” Mike calls back as he makes a run for the cliff’s edge, his sound draining away as his body falls from the cliff to the water with a hearty splash.

Bill nods to himself, now taking off his sneakers and his clothes behind a tree. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, and they’ll see his body in the water anyway, but he’s insecure, new, and scrawny as all get out. He runs his hands up and down his ribs, sometimes imagining them as a hidden xylophone in his chest, he wonders if he hit them hard enough with one of the paddles if they would be in tune. Richie says those thoughts are too dark, and they can lead to self-destructive behavior, but Bill simply sees it as a creative mind coming up with something others aren’t ready for yet.

He slips off his socks and walks out into the clearing. Then, he bolts forward to soar over the edge of the cliff, falling, falling, diving into something he’s never known before, trust and friendship. They’re a quirky bunch and he’s not sure where he’ll fit in, but they were kind enough to include him, and now he’s giving in. it’s been a bad week and he hasn’t felt this free in months despite it being summer. His bike broke two years ago, and he hasn’t found the right fit. So now, this feeling. The feeling of the wind in his face, the weightlessness.

Despite the molasses-like state of time, Monday still comes. Bill buttons up his black shirt and pulls on a pair of black jeans, he can’t remember the last time that he had a pair of dress pants that didn’t rest far above his ankles, he really needs to go clothing shopping. To top it all off, a pair of worn out Vans. he looks at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, combing back his hair into a bit of a messy man bun at the back of his head. His dad never liked his hair long, he feels like he ought to pull it back out of respect. He learned a lot about funerals and respect when Georgie died. He may not care as much about the person his dad was, but he respects the process. Really, he’s unsure if he could call his parents parents. He’d read in a poetry book once that said there is no such thing as alcoholic parents, just people who can’t put their drinks down long enough to raise their child. He partially agrees with it, he knows his mom doesn’t actually know him, and he’s sure his dad didn’t either. 

When he’s ready and it’s time to go, he puts his phone in his pants pocket and goes to fetch his mother, who is ready as opposed to still in bed as he’d expected. Maybe his parents did care about stuff, that stuff just isn’t him.

The drive is nearly silent until he’s parking in the parking lot, even when he misses a few exits on the way. His mom doesn’t criticize his driving, but as he starts to unbuckle his seatbelt and unlock the car, she hisses to him in a low voice. “Don’t embarrass us.” before he can even respond, she’s getting out of the car and hurrying into the building.

Bill follows slowly behind her,  first pulling the door and then realizing it’s a pull door. He really doesn’t know where his mind is today. Somehow the funeral home feels dimmer than it has any other times he’s been here when the lighting realistically hasn’t changed at all. The room where the funeral will take place is off a door to the left, he’d seen his dad’s cold, pale body in the door a straight path from the front door. Something about final viewing before cremation. Georgie was buried, but Bill assumes because his dad wanted the reminder that he’d lost his son as far as he could keep it, it would have been Sharon who hoped for cremation. Why? Because she couldn’t even bear to touch a hair on one of the boy’s stuffed animals, it must all be how he’d have it, how the memories would be triggered more easily.

He has to stand in the room for several hours, giving and receiving hugs from family and friends. Being the close family at a funeral is probably the worst role to be, except for maybe the dead one. But is that so bad? They always talk about heaven, isn’t death supposed to be the most peaceful? But here in a room full of people he has to stop thinking about that before he gets more red in the face and flustered.

Then is the actual ceremony with only who was close to him, and to be honest, Bill zoned out. And he pretended to be too sad to speak when he was offered the microphone, when you have a stutter you can make excuses like that really easily. Afterward he lingers outside the room where his relatives are eating.

It’s almost like fate that the gang of hooligans he hung out with the other day all walk in then. Or was it? They’d met Bill, looked up his dad’s funeral, and decided to show up after to pick him up. It’s not like they could have texted him first, not a single one of them had managed to get his phone number on the day they’d met.

They don’t need to say anything until he breaks down in tears, enough has built up and he doesn’t even know why at this point. First Beverly hugs him, and that really shocks him because she was so standoff-ish at first. He accepts the hug gratefully though, almost melting against her as Mike comes up and joins. And before long, they’re all hugging around his shaking form in the lobby of the funeral home. It’s unconventional, but it’s just what he needed.

[thisstableground]

2, 6, 14, 24 and 29 for Vansnavi; 10, 3, 26 for Vanessa/Ruben, and 7, 16, 25 and 27 for the trio? :o)

usnavi/vanessa

2. Who is the big spoon/Who is the little spoon?

has there ever, ever beenany question that usnavi is a little spoon? look at the man. it has a sort of weighted blanket effect on him and helps him wind down. vanessa doesn’tmind a bit of little-spooning as a post-coital cuddle but she can’t standsleeping that way, it makes her feel too claustrophobic. it actually takes thema while to figure this out though because of Gendered Assumptions andusnavi being too embarrassed to admit he just wants someone to cuddle him veryfirmly bc he likes feeling Small and Compact and Loved, but they both sleepmuch better once they do.

6. Who would have reallydeep emotional thoughts at the middle of the night/ Who would have them in themiddle of the day?

vanessa is dead to thegoddamn world at night and has her deep thoughts in the brightness of the daywhen she’s at full power and wanting everything fiercely and intensely and readyto go get it. usnavi is too busy to process any feelings properly untilnighttime when he tends to get overamped and understimulated by the quiet andis prone to bouts of insomniac thinking in circles.

14. Who kills the spiders?

neither of them. usnavigets all creeped out by them and vanessa scoffs and rolls her eyes like “god i’llget it then, you giant baby” but she won’t actually go near them herself, shevacuums them up, so usnavi always ends up getting it in a cup before she canbecause he has this intense fear that if she does it might lay eggs inside thevacuum cleaner and the next time they use it it’ll just spit out a thousandtiny spiders all over the apartment and then both of them will have to die immediately

24. Who is the talker/ Whois the listener?

usnavi is the talker, forthe most part, to nobody’s surprise! vanessa sometimes feels like she isn’tcontributing as much bc in her mind usnavi is also a better listener than her,bc even though he’s a chatterbox he pays such close attention on the times shedoes talk about serious stuff. but usnavi thinks that vanessa never, ever gives himthat look that some people give him where it’s like “what the fuck are you onabout?”, the one that makes him feel like he’s babbling stupidly, because evenwhen she’s teasing him or when he actually is talking absolute nonsense she still always makes sure to listen to him.

29. Who is the better cook?

vanessa. neither of themare amazing, to be honest – both make like, forgettably decent food, butvanessa’s tends to at least have more components and more effort put in. ithink that vanessa never really had much in the way of nice family meals - she mostly fed herself even as a very young kid - and when she’s older develops a sortof weirdly aggressive and vengeful self-care attitude. so her mom doesn’t careabout her, so fucking what? she’ll care about herself. she’ll make herself a nice dinner even though she’sthe only one who’ll appreciate the effort. she doesn’t need anyone else. usnavi has the exactopposite attitude:he has actually been taught how to cook by his parents and abuela, butif he’s the only one he’s cooking for, what’s the point inmaking an effort? the only time he really tries is when he’s cooking for him and sonny, and even then he just doesn’t haveany spare mental energy left to make it really good because cooking is exhausting. he isn’t terrible at it.it’s just like, yeah, this food is fine.

vanessa/ruben

10. Who likes sweet/ Who likessour?

i actually think both ofthem have a bit of a sweet tooth. they both like little pastries and bakedtreats and sugary starbucks mocha whatevers that they keep Very Much A Secretfrom usnavi. that said, i also think that vanessa is the one who grew up with alot more of the kind of mexican candy that is sold in the bodega, the stuffthat’s spicy-sour-sweet-salty all at once but definitely leaning harder towardssour.and ruben is the one who prefersall his alcoholic drinks fruity and sweet and sugary.

3. Who hogs the cover/ Wholoves to cuddle?

vanessa rolls herself up in a lil vanessa burrito while she sleeps andmaintains an unbreakable grip on the sheets that ruben doesn’t have the heart to trytoo hard to break, so he goes and gets another blanket and then wakes up anhour later realising that she has stolen this one too. (but when ruben has anightmare then vanessa gives up all the covers to wrap him up so that he issafe and covered up)

they both love to cuddle but also have limits –they’re actually far more likely to cuddle for a bit while awake then fallasleep just holding hands to give each other a little bit more breathing room.

26. Who likes to eathealthy/ Who loves junk food?

they’re both asimilar level of fairly healthy but not overly invested in diet. they get a decentamount of vegetables. vanessa is definitely a snacker and also eats nutelladirectly out of the jar more than a grown adult probably should, but rarely misses proper meals. ruben eatsmore healthy in general but when he’s working on a project he’ll eat likegarbage and drink a thousand cups of coffee.

trio

7. Who sweats the smallstuff?

rubeeeeen. oh my, soruben. even this far into the relationship there’s a lot of “are they mad at me? i think vanessa isblinking in a way that means she’s mad. i forgot to close the door on the wayinto the living room and i just shut it now but Will We All Die? Probably!! And it will be my fault!!!!”.usnavi sometimes does too but that tends to be more as part of an anxietyspiral down one path that gets more specific and detailed the longer it goeson, whereas ruben is just a constant level of small stuff being sweated.

16. Who is scared ofthunderstorms?

ruben again. it annoys thehell out of him because it’s always half Logic Brain being like “it’s just afucking thunderstorm it poses no danger to me” and he actually quite likesheavy rain sans storm, but there’s half PTSD Brain just being right on edge becauseLoud Noise = Danger, and if it’s a really bad day then the rolling of thunderturns very easily into the sound of a plane’s engines and it’s all downhillfrom there.

25. Who wears the otherones clothes?

they all wear each othersclothes. ruben’s sweaters are for vanessa when she doesn’t want to admit she’sfeeling vulnerable and needs the comfort, rubens good-quality boxer briefs solvea sensory discomfort that usnavi did not realise he had been having for years.usnavi’s big baggy t-shirts are vanessa’s pajamas (she switches out for adifferent one once it stops smelling like him). usnavi’s hat goes on ruben’shead during bad panic attacks as a physical comfort without actual physical contact. rubenlikes vanessa’s cheap, tight lazy-day tshirts as a makeshift sort of pressure vest.usnavi likes vanessa’s yoga pants because they make his legs look good.

27. Who takes a longshower/ Who sings in the shower?

vanessa on the whole takesthe longest showers. look at how much hair she has. she is part yeti. it takesso long just to get it all wet. there’s so much of it. she sheds everywhere inthe shower and its maybe the one cleaning related thing that usnavi gets pissyabout. ruben takes the second longest in general because he has most of his bigscientific revelations in the shower and also bc he shaves his downstairs zoneso, yknow, thats not an activity to be rushed (though on bad days he has short showers or doesn’t shower at all bc too triggering). usnavi is either the quickest bya very long way or, depending on how into whatever album he’s listening towhile he’s in there, could be a full hour, because he is absolutely the one whosings in the shower.

[xxlying-from-y0u]

41 Truths People With PTSD Wish Others Understood

1. “It isn’t just war veterans who suffer from it. It’s caused by being in any traumatic situation, such as mental, physical or sexual abuse. Car accidents or watching a traumatic incident can also cause it.” — Julianne Parker Jeppesen

2. “Some days are worse than others, but those good days don’t mean we’re ‘better’ or ‘over it.’ It’s really not a thing you can just ‘get over.’ Moving past it takes time and a lot of effort.” — Madison Dakota Chamberlain

3. “We don’t do it to irritate, frustrate or otherwise incur your wrath. If we were able to turn it off or not react the ways we do, we would. Believe that.” — Julie Anderson

4. “Telling me my greatest fears aren’t real or going to happen doesn’t help me. I understand they can seem outrageous at times, but prior to my traumatic experience, had I told you something like that was going to happen, you would have said ‘no way.’” — Monika Schneider

5. “I need all the support I can get at my lowest points because that’s when I feel [the PTSD] is winning.” — Tricia Hill

6. “I cannot just ‘stop.’” — Allison Hart

7. “It has many forms, not all of which look like what you see in movies.” — Carya Cunningham-Sloan

8. “Even though it may be hard to live with my moods and my strange ways of dealing with things, it’s even harder to be me and have to live with my moods and the strange ways I do things.” — Robyn Wright

9. “Even though it’s 13 years since [my sexual assault], when I’m having a panic attack, it feels like it was 13 days ago. It isn’t in my past. It’s in my every day.” — Helen Wilson

10. “I want to be my old cheeky self again, and it’s frustrating and upsetting that I can’t get there.” — Sarah Whelan

11. “Sometimes you simply just don’t want to talk about it.” — Jen Long

12. “I have lost my sense of safety.” — Rebecca Wood

13. “Choose your words and actions wisely. You never know when your words or actions will turn into somebody’s constant nightmare.” — Manda Ree

14. “Just allow me to cry and mourn, and I will regain my composure and be OK.” — Melinda Garner

15. “Don’t corner me and don’t touch me when I’m anxious. I can’t control this. It controls me.” — Cara Pair

16. “It could take you years to actually face what has happened. And numerous more to overcome it. PTSD is not easy to deal with, much less live with.” — Carol Sides

17. “I’m not my diagnosis. I have good days and bad days, but I’m not contagious. I’m just human.” — Patrice Caraway

18. “Many of my decisions today are affected by this condition. I live with bouts of anxiety and hyper-vigilance because of my trauma.” — Michelle Pawson Rotella

19. “He didn’t have to hit me to leave a scar.” — Allison M. Rockwell

20. “I did not ask for the things that I’ve been through, and I certainly did not ask my mind to paint and repaint the pictures in flashback form.” — Michelle Groth

21. “It’s disabling.” — Johan Asketill

22. “It’s real, even if it’s hard to explain.” — Natalie Hyland

23. “It’s exhausting to fight a war inside your head every single day.” — Mickie Ann

24. “I fear everything — what happened and what could happen. I live my life with a constant slideshow of events in my head, and I still don’t know all of my triggers.” — Melissa Cote

25. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. PTSD doesn’t cause me to turn into a monster. When I’m triggered I relive my traumatic experience, but I’m still in control of myself.” — Crystal Malta

26. “It’s a never-ending battle. Sometimes you think you have it beat but then something else comes along to trigger it and you feel like you’re at square one again.” — Kristen Abbas

27. “Simple little things like a song or smell can be a trigger.” — Selina Bonser

28. “I wish society would stop using it as slang. No, you don’t have PTSD because you saw a spider and it bugged you because you saw ‘Arachnophobia’ too young. It’s not something to be trivialized, and by using it in that way you’re diminishing the struggle so many of us face in getting actual treatment and support for this disorder.” — Tia Maria

29. “I wish [others] would understand it’s not their fault and they can’t fix me. And it makes me worse when they get upset or angry about what caused my PTSD.” — Courtney Jade

30. “I hate being touched, but sometimes I’m beyond desperate for a hug.” — Nikki Vee

31. “When I pushed people away it was actually when I needed people the most.” — Cindie Anne

32. “I have scars you can’t see. I have feelings you can’t feel. I have thoughts you could never understand. When you look at me you see the same person as before, but when I look at me I see a completely different person.” — Pam Berry

33. “I’m not being overly sensitive, looking for attention or making it up. I can’t control how certain things affect me. If I could control it, believe me when I tell you that I would.” — Melissa Goodman

34. “I already hate myself, so putting me down for not being normal and judging and criticizing me because I can’t do certain things or can’t control myself does not help not even one bit.” — Jessica Turner

35. “I’m not lazy. I’m just exhausted from fighting my way through every single day.” — MiMi Love

36. “It’s hard to stay here on Earth, but I do for my daughter.” — Nicki Chapman

37. “I’m not angry all the time; I just like to be left alone. I wish there was a magic pill that gave me my patience back.” — Vikki Ob

38. “I’m not being manipulative.” — Angie Rigby 

39. “I wish people would be more sensitive. If they cringe at the thought of my experiences, imagine how I feel, having survived it and reliving it whenever my brain deems fit… I wish people would understand how terrifying it is to attempt to find help. The thought of telling your story is instant panic.” — Sandy Burkey

40. “It’s a daily battle that seems you can never win. But you have to keep fighting.” — Chris Dayy

41. “It has nothing to do with you.” — Susan Leona Winder