#p: a stroll down memory lane

[instruth]

MANY RETURNS TO HARMONY

I recall the days gone by

I was young, innocent as a child

Pondering, looking to the sky

Prayerful, docile and kind of mild

I had my shares of ups and downs

Rebellious, oftentimes meek

Fun, laughter, joy, sometimes frown

In harmony to discover, to seek

When confused, disarray, disharmony

I went alone to the woods to get away

Reflective, walked the lanes of memory

Took refuge in our humble church to pray

As the years went, quietly strolling by

with the gracious returns to harmony,

as events come, the low and the high,

living my life by fate through memory

Oh! Past the byway, up yonder hill,

stands the smiling abode of God

Where village kinfolks assemble still

to reverence or for a petition nod

Wherein all claims are allowed,

for friendship to an open kinship,

for a blessing to be bestowed

or to mend a broken relationship

For there are several rooms

in the labyrinth of my Father's house

Up the stairways, other blooms,

more above, if only I dare to browse.

All - nobles or beggars, hypocrites

or the true honest-to-goodness,

Come to claim their rewards by rites,

each receiving the prize of forgiveness.

To each, unanswered prayers revamped

or with simple expectations met,

upon his heart is clearly stamped

a promise of hope - never regret

To pursue the one dream, in alimony,

a dream within an eternal dream,

To witness the return to harmony

in the midst of a blissful gleam

©Johnny J P Lee

30 March 2024

Photo: From my school photo album

(An old photograph, taken from opposite my school, of St Joseph’s Church, Kuching, erected as the Apostolic Prefecture of Sarawak by Pope Pius XI on 5 February 1927)

[roxy206]

Trixie Recreates Her Drag Race Season 7 Finale Look! — 07/10/2023

watch here

We’re taking a stroll down memory lane

And I can’t believe I still have them — idk is anyone surprised lol

Ask Katya, she’ll tell you — I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine

Why am I nostalgic for a time I wasn’t even around for??

I remember Katya came to visit me & stayed with me overnight — why is it so cute & funny that she specified the overnight part

Her coming to visit me was so magical — ���😭😭😭😭

Trixie mentioning three times in such a short amount of time that Katya visited her. Oh my god. I love how it clearly meant so much to her getting to see Katya & how it’s still such a special memory

I don’t know how many of y’all watched Bob’s video where she followed this tutorial but the way I clocked the time period before Bob even said anything about how tan & fit Trixie was

I had just broken up with someone — the plot thickens

It’s actually, like — hearing Trixie talk about having 15-20 people in the audience & thinking about where she is now? That alone makes me a bit emosh because I just love how much can change

Also as an aside, my friends & I had a trip to P Town planned … in 2020. So I really hope that at some point we’re able to actually do that

This is actually making me so nostalgic

We also have the podcast today, you guys. I think I’m going to sit with Katya & do the podcast in this old Trixie makeup. I wanna see what she says when she walks in

This video is making me feel a lot of feelings

You absolutely have to give it to Trixie that the makeup skills even with this look have absolutely improved

Does Trixie think we don’t already know you have to convince her it’s her idea?

THE BLUE CONTACTS

Look into the eyes of delusion & insanity

Katya’s going to be coming here for a podcast pretty soon & I think we should just get her reaction. I think she’s gonna flip the fuck out

Season seven. You did — It looks great

Pleeeeeaaaaase Trixie walking out the door to put her arms around Katya

You’re scaring me, you’re scaring me. It’s actually scary

This is not a read — Ahahahahaha Katya absolutely bringing down the level of delusion Trixie was feeling 😂

[ursafootprints]

E, I, M, V, Y

c:

Aaaaaa you spoil me!!!

E: What character do you identify with most? Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

HMMM I don't think there's a "most" necessarily! Neither Tony nor Peter is a character I super identify with just on the face of things, but there are individual traits that they have that I resonate with-- Tony's "gotta fix it (alone)" attitude, Peter's dorkiness and "gotta prove myself" drive, but those traits are expressed very differently in those characters than for me, haha.

The things that I identify most with for them in my fics are things that I put there through my various Situations rather than stuff they reflect in canon, lmao. I identify more with Peter in YNYD and with Tony in the Starkercest saga!

I: How many fandoms have you written in? Do you have a favorite?

Oh I counted this up one time! Assuming I'm not missing any from the actual fics/accounts being long lost to time, I've written for 14~16 fandoms:

Digimon

Inuyasha

Detective Conan

Fullmetal Alchemist

Gundam Wing

The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)

Cardcaptor Sakura

xxxHolic

X/1999 (unposted)

Yu-Gi-Oh!

di[e]ce

07-GHOST

Eyeshield 21

Chihayafuru

Ookiku Furikabutte (unposted)

MCU

Everything on that list that isn't MCU or The Outsiders is an anime/manga of widely varying levels of obscurity, haha. My favorite original work on the list is Cardcaptor Sakura, but my favorite fandom experience has been y'all here in Starker fandom! :P

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with? Did it turn into a story?

The weirdest AU I've ever come up with/written was the Tokyo Babylon-Starker fusion that @shivanessa and I are collaborating on! Because they drew some Peters and Tonys in the style of early CLAMP and I was immediately possessed by CLAMP Starker brainworms.

TB is a manga from the 90s written by CLAMP about a teenage medium tackling supernatural cases in Tokyo while being romanced by a kind and flirtatious much-older man… who secretly has very dark intentions for him. I might be the only person in the world that it appeals to but I am excited for it to be posting-ready!

V: Are there certain comments you’ve received on your stories that have stuck with you?

Any time a reader has told me that my portrayal of trauma felt resonant/especially realistic/cathartic based on their own experiences-- it's one of those things where obviously I'm sad for anyone to have to have that in common with me, but I also know how important and special it can feel when you read something that really resonates with your own experiences, too, so I'm always very touched by those comments.

(Also, any time I end up writing a paragraph or straight-up essay of meta in response to a comment it means that they said something that I grabbed and ogled and rotated in my mind in delight, so those ones, too!)

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories? Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?

It varies by fandom! I'm pretty much equally satisfied with everything I've written for Starker-- there's always stuff that I feel like I did really well, and stuff that I feel I could've executed better-- so it's a moot point there. But for Eyeshield 21, there for a while my most popular fic on that account by far was something I wrote when I was 13 and had only posted for archival reasons/a fun little stroll down memory lane, and until my multichap for the same ship overtook it I was a little jealous of my 13-year-old self!

Thank youuuu for all the questions! 😭💖💖💖😭

[estatedekho26]

Finding Your Dream Nest: Apartments/Flats for Sale in Miyapur, Hyderabad

Miyapur: The Perfect Blend of Urban Charm and Suburban Comfort

Miyapur, located in the northwestern part of Hyderabad, is rapidly becoming a sought-after destination for homebuyers. With its strategic location, excellent connectivity, and burgeoning infrastructure, Miyapur offers the perfect blend of urban charm and suburban comfort. Whether you're a first-time homebuyer or looking to invest in real estate, Miyapur has something for everyone.

Why Choose Miyapur?

Imagine waking up to the hustle and bustle of a vibrant city, yet having the peace and tranquility of a suburban neighborhood. That’s Miyapur for you! Here are some compelling reasons why Miyapur is an ideal choice for your next home:

Connectivity: Miyapur is well-connected by road and metro, making your commute a breeze.

Infrastructure: From schools and hospitals to shopping malls and recreational centers, Miyapur has it all.

Affordability: Compared to other parts of Hyderabad, Miyapur offers a range of affordable housing options.

Future Prospects: With ongoing development projects, the value of properties in Miyapur is expected to rise.

Top Apartments/Flats for Sale in Miyapur

When it comes to choosing the perfect apartment/flat in Miyapur, the options are endless. Here are some of the top picks:

Property Name

Price Range (Approx.)

Amenities

Aparna HillPark

₹70 Lakhs - ₹1 Crore

Swimming Pool, Gym, Children's Play Area

My Home Jewel

₹60 Lakhs - ₹1.2 Crores

Clubhouse, Tennis Court, Jogging Track

Incor One City

₹75 Lakhs - ₹1.5 Crores

24/7 Security, Power Backup, Landscaped Gardens

Spotlight on Aparna HillPark

Aparna HillPark is a standout choice for many reasons. Nestled in the heart of Miyapur, this residential complex offers luxurious 2BHK and 3BHK flats. The meticulously designed apartments come with state-of-the-art amenities that cater to all your needs. Picture yourself unwinding by the pool after a long day or watching your kids play in the safe and secure children's area. Aparna HillPark truly epitomizes modern living.

The Joy of Living in My Home Jewel

Another gem in Miyapur’s real estate crown is My Home Jewel. This residential complex is a haven for families. With spacious flats, well-maintained gardens, and a range of recreational facilities, My Home Jewel ensures a comfortable and joyful living experience. Whether you're a fitness enthusiast or someone who loves a quiet evening stroll, My Home Jewel has got you covered.

Incor One City: Where Elegance Meets Convenience

Incor One City is the epitome of elegance and convenience. With its strategic location and top-notch amenities, it is perfect for those who seek a blend of luxury and practicality. The apartments are designed to maximize space and natural light, creating a warm and welcoming ambiance. Plus, the landscaped gardens provide a serene escape from the hustle and bustle of city life.

Personal Anecdote: My Miyapur Experience

Let me take you on a little trip down memory lane. When I first moved to Miyapur, I was captivated by its charm. The convenience of having everything within reach from grocery stores to entertainment hubs was a game-changer. One evening, as I sipped my coffee on the balcony, watching the sunset over the cityscape, I knew I had made the right choice. Miyapur has a way of making you feel at home, and I bet it will do the same for you.

Conclusion: Your Dream Home Awaits in Miyapur

In conclusion, Miyapur offers a plethora of options for those looking to buy an apartment/flat. With its excellent connectivity, robust infrastructure, and affordable housing options, Miyapur is undoubtedly a prime location for homebuyers. So, what are you waiting for? Dive into the real estate market of Miyapur and find your dream home today. Trust me, you won’t regret it!

Visit estatedekho.com for more information about Apartments/Flats for Sale in Miyapur Hyderabad Telangana. Estatedekho is an online platform that offers sellers, potential clients, buyers verified plots, and professional agents at service.

[princessallura]

I took a stroll down memory lane and went to see if an old journaling site was still around -deadjournal. It had been around with Greatest Journal (I really, really miss that site), P-Journal, Blurty, Livejournal, and many others. I only used it like a few times because of the restrictions they had on it:

You could only make one journal

The place was invitation only

I had considered using it as something personal because my psyche doctor wanted me to start doing some writing. She wanted to see what my moods were like and what was going through my mind. I have been writing it out in pen but I thought a journal online would be much better. 

I know a lot of people don't want to know so much personal shit about me so I don't do a lot of personal information. Maybe I will open an insanejournal just for this. It might be better because I can lock my writing away from my sister seeing it. Maybe it would be for the better.

[theveejer]

Just a stroll down memory lane for me. The Tetons are always so beautiful! . . . . . #idahophotographer #idahofallsweddingphotographer #adventurewedding https://www.instagram.com/p/CpKotDELw4x/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[deweypodmonster]

The boys are back and this week they are taking a stroll down memory lane, all the way back to 2020, with the movie “Sick”. Check it out now wherever you get your podcasts! https://crap.town/ (at Dewey Lake) https://www.instagram.com/p/CopGwN-OGCQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[dcsnyder]

Tonight!!! 9pm est on the ChannelZero YouTube channel! The amazing @thekylejason will join us for a stroll down memory lane! This one will be fun y’all! See you tonight!!! #itscdocagain #kylejason https://www.instagram.com/p/CoGQIQWLY54/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[farid-affandi]

Last time in #1990s having #BoyLondonWatch that can change backgound colour according to temperature, you become the coolest kids on the block. Teaching Fathia how to tell the time using analog watch and as parent, we want to be stroll down the memory lanes by becoming the cool kids again. PS: Fathia doing the famous experiment of putting the watch inside of the fridge to see the watch change colour. #Lafamilia https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn8oRovhKiMcz5SbYW-nscEsotIPqu1CcgvvFY0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[feature-film-fanatic]

I can't believe that today is the last day of 2022! This year went by really fast! My IG profile might be movie related, but if you have been following me, you'll know that I post music related stuff sometimes as well. I love going to live shows and I decided to do like a little stroll down memory lane type of thing. lol I decided to revisit the top 5 shows that I went to in 2022. These are all shows that I absolutely loved and had a blast at! 2023 is shaping up to be a good year for shows as well. I'll finally be getting to see Paramore, which I'm really excited about! I'll be seeing Yungblud again. I had so much fun the last time he was here, so I'll be going again! I'm hoping 2023 will be as good, if not better than 2022 for live shows! @ppgpaintsarena @stageae @roxiantheatre @thunderbirdmusichall https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm1cjmeOpLB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[pesigan]

Thank you for the stroll down memory lane. #nostalgia #Ateneo https://www.instagram.com/p/CmVWZSAyyvp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[beautifulbizarremagazine]

Keith Haring is giving this artist a spiritual high five! Look at images and in this post to see the gilded details that Jette Reinert included in her latest whimsical red and gold checkered horse painting. Don't her flourishes seem like a nifty little ‘Easter egg’-laden ode to the unforgettable 80s pop art icon❤️? Need a reminder of what @keithharingfoundation’s original pictograph-style barking dog - teeming with some of the New York City street artist’s most unforgettable illustrated characters - looks like? Scroll to the final image in this post to see his work! Ahhh HA!!! Now can you recognize some of Keith's characters flitting about in the lower half of Jette's painting? Cool, huh? Whether intentional or not, Jette Reinert has probably inspired 50% of us to now take a stroll down pop art memory lane, and oh what fun it is! 👉Jette Reinert's Website: www.reinert.dk 👉Keith Haring's Website: https://www.haring.com/ ••• posted on Instagram - https://instagr.am/p/CRHPqx0JQLn/

[whiskeyshoneybee]

Wedding Bells

( Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!reader) [18+]

Summary: Jack's best friend is getting married and the two of you take a weekend trip. Special thanks to the pascalitos for inspiring this.

Rating: Explicit

Word count:2561

Content warnings: Wedding fluff, fluff and smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving),P in V, praise kink, boyfriend jack

A/N: Was this inspired by Javi in that flannel shirt, yes it was.

The invitation had been on the fridge of the high-rise apartment you shared with Jack Whiskey for 4 months and the date was quickly approaching. Jack's cousin Tucker was getting married after a heartbreaking divorce. Tucker was not only Jack's favorite cousin but his best friend too. And now he would get to stand by his side and be his best man. You wish you could have bottled the look on his face when he got the call from Tuck. He was overcome with joy that his best friend had someone to share the rest of his days with.

You were no stranger to weddings but this one felt different. It brought excitement and a pang of fear in your chest. Coming from a large family it wasn't unheard of to go to 3-5 weddings a year. You knew all the cheesy line dances and could do them with your eyes closed. But that didn't change how you felt about weddings. Each one was unique and you could always feel the love in the air that the happy couple shared for each other. The fear about this happy day was due to the fact this would be the first time meeting Jack's family. Jack's brother Chris and his wife Savannah and their two girls would often come up to the big city. You would all do the touristy things, see a show and paint the town red. But meeting the rest of his family made you worry. You know what happened with his high school sweetheart and how much his family loved her. In your heart you knew you could never replace her, and nor would you want to.

You called in a favor to Ginger to dig up some information on Jack's family just basic stuff so you could hold a conversation and maybe even show them why Jack was so smitten with you. Jack had been to many of your family functions. He would be so attentive, listen and make them laugh deep from their bellies whenever he was around. You just wanted to return the favor for your sweetheart.

Regardless of your mixed emotions it would be nice to have a weekend away with Jack. Somehow you managed to pack everything in a carryon bag including an obscene amount of lingerie. Both of you had been working your tails off and a break from work meant you could enjoy each other without any distractions.

The hotel was large with dark wood and a fairly modern interior, with lengthy windows that let in the breathtaking scenery. Jack gets you checked in quickly and gets cleaned up while you start unpacking. His phone rings and he is whisked away to perform his best man duties.

“ I'm sorry Sugar, I wanted to spend the day with you but there are too many fires that need to be put out.” You kissed him showing him that you had no hard feelings.

With Jack gone this gave you time to look over Gingers intel before calling Chris. You were hoping you could cash in on that famous southern hospitality while fighting the dreaded boredom that is an empty hotel room. Plus you had to see your favorite almost "nieces". Chris was happy to oblige. He took you on a tour of the town, you saw all of Jack's old haunts and even looked through family photo albums. Chris was impressed when you could point out family members in the photos.

After a stroll down memory lane you head back to the hotel to hopefully beat Jack so you can get cleaned up and put on something sexy. After channel surfing for what seemed like hours you hear the door click and open. When your hungry eyes meet his, you could tell he was drained. You pat the spot next to you on the bed and he sauntered over.

“ Well you're a sight for sore eyes!’ You were wearing the hotel robe concealing your delicious surprise for him.

He plopped down on the bed letting out a heavy sigh kicking off his boots and setting his hat on the nightstand. His head finds your lap and you start running your hands through his hair. You're careful not to pry too much into the night he had with his boys but you were intrigued what kind of shenanigans they got into.

“ So what trouble did you guys get up to tonight?” lightly teasing him

He clears his throat “ Well we just did about everything. Tucker took us to the bar where they make you take a shot outta an old boot.”

Your eyes look down in disbelief at how casually he said that.

“Sugar I'm getting too old for this.” He keeps telling you more and more about this wild night until something piques your interest.

“That wasn't the worst part.” he sighs “There was a mechanical bull.”

Breathing becomes shallow and the hand through his hair briefly stops while you imagine what he looked like mounted on that bull in a sleazy bar.

“I think there was something in that boot cause this was the first time in a long time I ever fell off riding. I was on for a good 3 minuets before I landed on my back.” In any other situation you would have laughed at what he just told you, however you were feeling the warmth in your stomach grow.

“ Come here and take your shirt off.” Curiosity was getting the best of you and you couldn't keep your hands away from his broad back.

“Yes ma’am.” you felt the warmth in your stomach travel up to your face. He sat in between your legs while your hand carefully explored looking for tension or bruising. Your hands massage the area around his ribs that was starting to discolor.

It wasn't long before you heard his breathing changed. He fucking fell asleep. A sigh escaped your lips. You were turned on and had to press pause. Your hands relocating off of Jack's muscular back to turn off the TV. Somehow you managed to get Jack to stir awake long enough for you to remove his starchy jeans and roll him into bed. Leaning over to adjust the covers your robe opens and Jack sees the red lace underneath.

“Shit.” he mutters “My pretty baby takes care of me and looks so good doing it.” Feeling pulled to him like a magnet, you lean down and kiss him. It's soft and gentle, his eyes still full of sleep and the feeling of fatigue hits yours. Making your way over to the bed you disrobe and slide in the sheets. He instinctively turns to you. His warm chest on your back, those large hands pull you closer until one lands on your waist to remain there for the rest of the night. He whispers in your ear

“ I'm sorry about leaving you today, and I'm sorry I couldn't stay awake to show you just how much I missed you.” His mouth peppering your neck with soft kisses before your heavy eyes betray you and you fall asleep.

Something startles you awake. Something on your neck that tickles. Your mind wonders if a feather from this pillow has betrayed you and stabbed you in the night. Your heavy eyes look for the clock on the bedside table. 5am. You try not to move, knowing Jack had a long night with the party boys. Soon you feel velvet on your neck, its Jacks tongue. Soft kisses escape his mouth.

“ Is my pretty baby awake yet?” he eagerly whispers. You let out a throaty “hmm” your hand meeting his and giving it a squeeze.

Turning your head to meet his mouth, placing a soft kiss. Those honey eyes meeting yours, wide with no hint of sleep to be found dripping with desire. His tongue licking along your bottom lip asking for permission to be let in deeper. How could you deny him access. His hand moves from your waist under your silky red camisole to your breast, massaging and pinching your nipple till your mouth lets out a whimper of pleasure. He pulls his mouth away from yours long enough to take your camisole off. The prickle of his moustache landing on your collar bone as he softly bites your flesh. Those large hands waste no time to eclipse your breasts. His lips trail down to leave marks on the tender skin while your left a whimpering mess.

That long, lean body of his slithers down lower. You lift up your hips so he can remove the last traces of clothes from your body.

“Red is a good color on you sweetie.” he says with a wink. He takes a minute to look at you in all your glory spread out underneath him.

“ My baby is already wet for me.” Without waiting a beat his mouth dives into you, sucking on your clit. Your back arching in response to his touch. He has to put his arm over your waist to keep you from bucking. His other hand makes contact with your center as he eases one large finger inside you.

“ You feel so good baby.” you breathlessly reply, eyes rolling back. His mouth stops.

“ Hey pretty girl, keep looking at me.” you nod and he goes back to work on your bundle of nerves sucking swirling and biting while those amber eyes hold you captive. He eases another thick finger inside you curling them and stretching you reaching for the spot that makes you see stars.

“Jack… I'm close.” He raises his eyebrow like its a challenge to see how fast he can make you fall apart. Another finger meets your core, the hand that was holding your hip travels upward to pinch your nipple. The overstimulation from him finger fucking you, his tongue rolling into you and that hand on your breast causes your walls to flutter holding him captive till your body stops writhing underneath him. Those eyes that held you gaze close as he removes his fingers and licks them clean. Letting out a moan.

“Baby, your the best thing I've ever tasted.”

His head goes back down this time his tongue diving into your cunt. Drinking the pleasure right out of you. Lapping his tongue over your folds and returning to your center as not to neglect it for too long. Your breath becomes quick and shallow again. Your walls desperately trying to clamp down on him. He pulls away from you, lining up his cock with your entrance. You need release, you've been feeling turned on since he mentioned that stupid mechical bull and fell asleep on you. He thrusts into you. Both of you moaning at the feeling.

“ Pretty girl, you're so tight for me.” He thrust deep and slow, trying to make you last. His lips meeting yours while you moan in delight as you taste yourself.

“ Come with me baby.” You plead, wanting to see himself unravel.

His hand that was braced beside your head moves to your clit and is circling it with ferocious speed still sensitive from your first orgasm. Your nails dig into his back as you climax again, not caring where he was hurt. He rides you through it, thrusting till he falls apart, painting your walls with glorious thick ropes. He rests his head on your chest and kisses you. Both of you lay like that for a while he runs his hands through your hair.

“ How did I get so lucky to be with you?” His eyes looking at you with devotion.

Somehow you both manage to pull apart from each other long enough to order room service and get cleaned up for the wedding.

The service was beautiful and simple. Tucker had Jack by his side in the soft red flannel shirt that drove you crazy. You sat with Chris, Savannah and their girls, thankful to see friendly faces in the sea of unknown strangers. Your imagination was running wild, you were thinking about your future with Jack. You weren't one of those people who planned their wedding by the time they were 10. But seeing him up there having his warm eyes look at you while Tucker and his wife exchanged their vows was doing something for you. Shit. How could he make your heart and pussy flutter like that.

At the reception Jack guided you through the crowd, his hand on your low back keeping you close. Everything Ginger had told you flooded your memory as you asked interesting questions and listened to every word that was spoken to you holding a conversation with ease. Jack would stop in between the groups of people to kiss you lovingly on the cheek and whisper praises in your ear. Finally you were back at the table with Chris and the girls after circling the entire room. Jack had his hand on your thigh under the table making an unidentifiable pattern with his fingers.

Your “nieces” were so excited to be at the reception. This was the first time at a wedding for them and they wanted to take full advantage. When the dance floor was open to the public those girls dragged you out so you could show them the steps. You were laughing and having such a good time. The night was a success. Jack's family was warm and inviting and made you feel like you fit right in. Your heart felt full.

You look back at Jack, his eyes meet yours and you could swear you saw a twinkle in them. Your attention goes back to the girls to try and make sure no one steps on anybody's feet. The song is over and the tempo changes to something slow and you felt a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Jack asks with a grin. He pulls you close, your head resting on his shoulder, like it was made for you. Your face feeling the soft fabric of his flannel, his hand on your low back swaying you to the music.

“Honey, I'm so impressed with you. The girls love you, my family loves you. And you look damn good in this dress. I wish we could have done this sooner.” he whispers in your ear before placing a kiss on your forehead. It feels like you are the only two people in this whole room.

“ There is only one thing you forgot.” your face lifts from his shoulder so you can look directly at him.

“ And what's that?” you say raising your eyebrow in disbelief.

“ At every wedding someone needs to have slutty sex. It’s a requirement and as best man its my job to make sure this wedding goes off without a hitch.”

You move your head to the side so you are dancing cheek to cheek and so that you can whisper your desires easily.

“ Is that so? What do you have planned for us?” you say in a low breathy voice.

His hand moving slightly lower down your back “ Well, when the coast is clear we are going to make our way to the bathroom. I'm going to set that pretty little ass of yours on the counter and I'm going to fuck you till you scream.” Jack was a man of his word and he meant everything he said.

[instruth]

RETURNS TO HARMONY

I recall the days gone by

I was young, innocent as a child

Pondering, looking to the sky

Religious, docile and kind of mild

I had my shares of ups and downs

Rebellious, oftentimes meek

Fun, laughter, joy, sometimes frown

In harmony to discover, to seek

When confused, disarray, disharmony

I went alone to the woods to get away

Reflective, walked the lanes of memory

Took refuge in our humble church to pray

As the years went, quietly strolling by

with the gracious returns to harmony,

as events come, the low and the high,

living my life by fate through memory.

Oh! Past the byway, up yonder hill,

stands the smiling abode of God

Where village kinfolks assemble still

to reverence or for a petition nod

Wherein all claims are allowed,

for friendship to an open kinship,

for a blessing to be bestowed

or to mend a broken relationship.

For there are several rooms

in the labyrinth of my Father's house,

Up the stairways, other blooms,

more above, if only I dare to browse.

All - nobles or beggars, hypocrites

or the true honest-to-goodness,

Come to claim their reward by rites,

each receiving the prize of forgiveness.

To each, unanswered prayers revamped

or with simple expectations met,

upon his heart is clearly stamped

a promise of hope - never regret

To pursue the one dream, in alimony,

a dream within an eternal dream,

To witness the return to harmony

in the midst of a blissful gleam.

©Johnny J P Lee

29 March 2022

Photo: From my school photo album

(An old photograph, taken from opposite my school, of St Joseph’s Church, Kuching, erected as the Apostolic Prefecture of Sarawak by Pope Pius XI on 5 February 1927)

[experimentalxfilm-archived]

💥

A Stroll Down Memory Lane-Accepting!

💥-A Memory You Want To Forget

(TW for yelling that borders on verbal abuse. Amelia’s mom hasn’t done anything like this since, but it’s still pretty horrible)

“…You know, I’m beginning to suspect that you’re using this ‘Asperger’s’ nonsense as an excuse to loaf off!”

“T-That’s not true! School’s been getting tough, again-“

“Since when?! You always got honor roll until that therapist diagnosed you with that stupid thing! You…you’re just pretending to have whatever that is, aren’t you?”

“N-No…Mom, please…”

“Now all it is is ‘this video game’, ‘that TV show’, whatever garbage you like this week! Whatever happened to school? Exerting yourself on nonsense-you’re better than this, Amelia!”

“…I’m sorry…P-Please stop…I’ll be better…I’ll act better…”

“You better act better and start getting better grades. Or else all that nonsense you like will be going ‘bye-bye’.”

And then she left the room, leaving Amelia sobbing and shaking as she rubbed her blanket to try to calm down.

(The moment that lead to Amelia shutting herself away for a while, needless to say. While this eventually led to her passion for film out of vengeance, it was still horrible to go through. If she forgot this tomorrow, it would be too soon.)

[red-writing-on-asylum-walls]

Like Everyone Who Was Dragged There First (Again)

A rewrite of the original fic. I’m...not sure if this one is actually better? Or just longer. I think I cleared some things up and filled in some plot holes buutttt idk. Lemme know what you guys think.

Warnings for: torture, blood, violence, child endangerment, strangulation, implied child abuse, implied past torture, force feeding, implied psychotic break, this is not how mental health works

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“Heya, Jake. Long time, no see.”

The bowl slipped out of Jake’s numb fingers and clattered to the floor, spilling popcorn all over the carpet. The air felt frigid and thick, the world slippery against the cold clamminess of his skin. His lungs didn’t seem to want to work right, he couldn’t breathe, his brain short circuiting as it desperately tried to reconcile what it was seeing.

Aaron Pierly was sitting casually on the couch next to Milo. There was a ratty backpack on the floor between his feet and an all to familiar smirk on his face.

Jake was already on the brink of panic, thoughts tumbling over one another as Milo stared at him in confusion. Dan wasn’t home. Jake’s cellphone was upstairs and out of reach. Aaron was sitting too close to Milo. Dan wasn’t home and he wouldn’t be for several hours. Dan wasn’t home and they were in very real danger.

“Aaron.” His voice was tight, squeezed out of his throat in a reluctant gasp of stale air. It tasted like old, dusty fears being pulled from the attic of his mind.

“Dad?” Said Milo and Aaron’s eyes flickered with something wicked and gleeful.

“Wwhhhaattt? This is your kid? Aw, Jake, how could you be so cruel? Why didn’t you tell your own brother that you had a son?” Aaron’s voice was teasing, could almost have been friendly if not for the sour, mocking edge to it. And the look in his eyes that said something else entirely.

“I have an uncle?” Milo perked up excitedly and Jake wanted to scream and pull him away from the monster he sat next to.

“You didn’t even tell your kid about me? Ouch, big brother, that hurts my feelings.” The words were acid as Aaron hissed them through the grin in his teeth. His arm coiled around Milo’s shoulder, a python trapping its prey, his fingers curling into the soft fabric of the shark hoodie, “How about we talk in the kitchen? Make another bowl of popcorn. See what kind of fun we can have.”

It was not a suggestion.

Aaron pulled Milo off the couch, arm still around his shoulders, pinning the boy to his side as he steered them past Jake and back into the kitchen. Jake had to follow them. Dan wasn’t here so Jake was going to do everything he could to protect Milo, no matter what it took. He forced himself to follow and tried to keep the fear off his face, for Milo’s sake, tried not to wince when Aaron pressed his hand into Milo’s shoulder and forced him to sit down in a kitchen chair. Jake stood in the doorway, trying to take steady breaths, his palms sweating and his heart thudding. Aaron was humming tunelessly as he lifted the backpack up and set it on the table.

“I brought some of our old toys we used to play with together,” The devil in his brother’s skin said cheerily, “For nostalgia, ya know.” The zipper on the backpack sounded like cracking bones in the heavy quiet of the house, “Remember this stuff?” Aaron turned the bag over and dumped its contents onto the table.

A scream swelled in Jake’s throat and then wouldn’t come out. He forgot how to breathe, choking on icy panic as he tripped backwards and nearly fell out of the kitchen. The world felt muffled, drowned by a roaring in his ears and the painful thudding of his own heart pounding fists against the prison bars of his ribcage. The edges of his vision went dark and fuzzy, static clinging to his mind, old blood in his nose, long healed aches flaring deep in his bones. All he could see were the old instruments of torture spilling across the kitchen table, so bright and vivid and full of memories he wished he didn’t have.

“Dad?” Milo’s voice from somewhere far away, miles away and underwater, a thread in the maze of panic leading him to the exit, “Jake? Dad? W-what’s going on? Dad!?”

A chair scrape on the tile floor.

A thud.

“You stay in your seat, brat. Unless you want to play too…”

“Don’t touch him!” Jake didn’t remember moving but as the world snapped back into clear focus, he found he had put himself between Milo and Aaron. His hand was gripping Aaron’s wrist in a shaking grip, having wrenched it off of Milo’s shoulder.

Aaron looked far too pleased, “I won’t touch him if you play with me, Jake. I’ve missed out time together. It’s no fun without around.” There was such darkness in his voice, such loathing, that Jake pulled his hand away from Aaron as if he could feel it burning through his skin.

“I…” Jake choked. Aaron was much too close, filling his vision, blotting out the light.

Aaron grinned, showed his nicotine stained teeth. And, faster than Jake could react, Aaron snatched up Jake’s wrist and bent his arm back. Jake cried out as his shoulder was pulled harshly, trying to twist away, but Aaron just followed the movement, using it to steer Jake over to the table and pushing him down. Jake scrambled, gasping in fear and pain, as he was bent over the tabletop, one arm behind his back and the other pinned beneath his chest. Jake could feel his own pressing against his arm.

“Dad!” Milo’s desperately scared voice, that sound of the chair against the floor again.

“I said stay in your seat!” Aaron barked, the first time he’d raised his voice, cracking it against the walls of the kitchen. Jake heard Milo thump back into the chair, the squeak of felt pads on shiny tile.

“Now Jake,” Fingers fisted in Jake’s blond hair, yanked hair head back at a painfully sharp angle to expose the curve of his neck and making Jake let out a small, choked cry. Aaron forced Jake to look at Milo sitting petrified in his seat, making their eyes meet, their terror an echo chamber between them. Then Aaron shoved Jake’s face back into the table, grinding it against the polished wood for a moment before releasing his hair, “We’re going to have a nice little chat. And your kid is going to sit there and watch while we go on a nice little stroll down memory lane. And I can remind you about what a piece of utter shit you are.”

“Aaron, p-please…” Jake whimpered, “Milo…h-he doesn’t need to see…”

“Oh, I think he does,” Aaron hissed back, “Someone’s got to show him how the world works and you’re too much of a pussy to do it. So let’s start with the basics. Family,” Aaron said matter-of-factly, “Will always ruin your life. Because people are selfish and stupid and older brothers are the worst! Right Jake?”

Jake knew better than to answer.

But he still made a frightened little noise when a pair of scissors flashed in front of his face. He felt the blades snag on the shoulder of his button up, the snip-click of them slicing into the fabric making him shudder. Aaron cut the sleeve off and then wrenched Jake’s arm out straight, making Jake wince, gritting his teeth. The side of scissors ghost over old and faded scars, raising goosebumps as they went, until their sharp tip pressed against some of the ropey tissue that had never healed quite right in the crook of Jake’s elbow.

“It was right here, I think,” Aaron said in a sickly sweet voice, leaning over Jake and crushing him against the table, “You didn’t want to share that stupid CD player. So I had to teach you a lesson in manners. It was a knife, right? I wasn’t very good with that at first. Wasn’t good about not leaving marks…”

Jake watched the horror dawning on Milo’s face, wished with all his damaged hear that Milo had never seen this part of his life, would have given anything to be alone in the house when Aaron had found him. Now Milo was going to have what innocence he had left shattered while Aaron inevitably did the same with Jake’s fragile sanity.

“A-Aaron, just—just let him…he doesn’t need to be h-here…” Jake tried to plead again, only to choke when Aaron pressed a hand down hard on the back of Jake’s neck.

“He’s staying, Jake,” His brother snarled, “And if either of you scream or try to call for help, first I’ll break your legs. And then I’ll show your fucking mouth shut.”

Milo’s mouth opened—to protest or curse or spew whatever teenage rebellion was still on fire inside him. Jake caught his eye and silently pleaded for him to stay silent, to just go along with it, please Milo, please don’t do anything. Milo searched Jake’s face, then shut his mouth, chewing on his lower lip as he eased back into the chair. Jake swallowed the sigh of relief that wanted to escape him, felt his neck flex against Aaron’s hand, and prayed that whatever happened, it would only leave Jake with more scars and Milo unblemished.

He was jarred from his prayers when he was dragged backwards off the table and thrown into a nearby dining chair. Jake looked up in time to see Aaron uncoiling a faded rope from the pile of tools on the table. He caught Jake’s frightened stare and sneered, snapping it taunt and making Jake flinch.

“Here’s the deal, Jacob,” Aaron growled, walking over to Milo who shrank away from him, “We’re going to play for a while, and your kid’s going to watch so he can learn exactly what kind of dumb, disobedient, horrible, lying person you are. Then I’m going to pack up my stuff and leave and you’re not going to tell anyone what happened because you know you deserve it.”

Aaron approached Milo with the rope and Milo kicked out at him instinctively. But Aaron just sidestepped it and swung the bundle of rope hard against Milo’s face, knocking him to the side. Milo was too dazed to struggle as Aaron wrapped the rope tight around Milo’s chest and the back of the chair, pinning the teenager’s arms to his sides. His movement were deft and practiced, an efficiency created from repeated use of the skill. The rope pinned Milo’s ankles to the legs of the chair and made a complicated series of loops beneath and behind. Milo flinched as the rope draped against his neck and rubbed against his bare skin, tugging against his windpipe as Aaron tied it off behind him. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, grinning nastily when Milo turned fearful but angry eyes on him,

“Haha, look at that. Still a rebellious little shit, huh? Yyeeaahhh, Jakey used to fight back too until I figured out this knot. See, the real beauty of this thing is, the more you struggle, the tighter it pulls. So, if you move around and try to wriggle free then…” Aaron reached around behind Milo and jerked on one of the lines woven into the binding. The rope around Milo’s throat instantly tightened, pressing hard into his neck and cutting his air supply down to the barest wheeze of breath. Milo’s eyes bulged and Aaron laughed as the teenager bucked in instinctual panic. Of course, it was just as Aaron had said—the more Milo struggled, the tighter the noose became.

“Aaron, stop it! You’re here for me! Let him go! Just stop!” Jake was out of his chair, shoving brother out of the way as he fumbled with the knots constructing Milo’s bonds. His fingers slipped off of them, confused by Aaron’s complicated work, and he turned his attention instead to the teenager gagging helplessly in the chair. He cupped Milo’s face in his shaking hands, hushing him, voice hitching as he tried to help,

“Milo, you need to stop struggling. I—I know it’s hard but you need to just—Milo, listen, please listen to me, okay, you need to sit still and don’t move.” He brushed the pads of his thumbs across freckled cheeks, wiping away hot tears, smiling thinly as Milo’s breathing came back under control and his struggling ceased, “That’s it, okay, just—just deep breaths, all right, little shark. It’ll be okay. Just don’t move anymore, okay? Milo? N-no matter what you see, no matter wh-what happens, don’t move. I’ll be fine, I promise, just don’t—“

Aaron yanked Jake away by a fistful of his hair, throwing him to the floor with a growl, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jake. Get back in your fucking chair.”

Jake scrambled across the floor, barely dodging the kick Aaron had aimed at him as he crawled onto he kitchen chair. Aaron followed after him, sneering, pulling a roll of extension cord off the table and knocking several other tools to the floor as he did so. Jake couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped out of him as he pressed himself against the back of the chair, desperate to get away but too worried about what would happen to Milo if he ran. His chest rose and fell with sharp, panicked breaths that scraped his dry throat, his heart was beginning to ache as it thudded harder and faster than it had in a long time. His head spun with an ice cold terror he hadn’t experience since he was a child.

Aaron towered over him, the grin on his face nasty and eager, “Sshhhh, big brother, deep breaths. Wouldn’t want you passing out just yet. We haven’t even gotten started…”

The extension cord wrapped around Jake like an old friend, pinching his skin in familiar places and alarmingly tight across his chest. Aaron heaved on the cord, yanking Jake’s legs off the floor by his ankles and forcing him to bend his knees so that his heels were almost touching the seat of the chair. It made his thighs shake, muscles spasming uncomfortably tight as Aaron finished his work. It seemed he’d learned some new tricks over the years. Jake shivered to think who he might have used as a practice dummy.

“Let’s have a conversation,” Aaron said in the same tone of voice one might have used to discuss the weather. He crossed back to the table and sorted through the objects until he found what he was looking for. When he turned back to face Jake, he was holding an old, wooden baseball bat, tiny and child sized, scraped and scratched from years of use.

“Do you wanna know,” Aaron spun the little bat in one hand as he approached, his grin twisted with rage, “What the house was like after you left? Do you know what happened you weren’t around anymore? Do you know how angry mom was?”

Jake cringed back in the chair, pure terror written in every shaking line of his body, “Aaron, n-no, I didn’t mean—I didn’t think she would—you were—she wouldn’t—“

“But she did!” The bat arced through the air and smashed into the side of Jake’s face, jerking his head violently to the side and smashing the inside of his cheek against his teeth. Iron welled into his mouth and he swallowed it back with a grimace. Aaron brought the baseball bat around again and cracked it into Jake’s head, splitting open the skin of his temple. Blood bubbled from the head wound and slid freely down his already swelling cheek as he blinked dazedly, trying to refocus. Aaron didn’t let him; he swung again and struck Jake hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his brother. Jake doubled over with a wet wheeze, drool and blood smearing across his lap from his gasping mouth as he struggled for breath. But Aaron brought another heavy blow down on Jake’s shoulder with a loud, crunching pop. Jake thrashed in the chair, a strangled, gasping scream of pain rattling up his throat, eyes wide and face pale. His shoulder was lumpy and awkward, numb and throbbing and awful—probably dislocated.

“Mom was so pissed when you left,” Aaron snarled, looming over his brother as Jake choked on a sob, breath gasping as he fought for breath, tried to sort through the pain chewing him up from the inside out, “She was so angry. I’d never seen her so mad. And then you didn’t even have the decency to leave us a number? An address!? So fucking disrespectful, Jacob!” Aaron swung again, hit Jake hard in the stomach with the bat. Jake wretched and coughed, spitting up an acrid mixture of stomach acid, blood, and coffee. Aaron dropped the baseball bat with a sneer of disgust, backing away as Jake choked and gagged,

“Pathetic. She raised us. Put a roof over our heads. Gave us food and clothes. And you spat on that. Ran away and didn’t even tell your little brother where you were going!”

Jake looked up, tears and blood and bile still oozing down his face, dropping with the sweat from his chin, staining his shirt and jeans. His breathing was labored and he trembled violently. But his eyes were hard and resolute.

He would not be broken.

That only seemed to stoke the fires of Aaron’s temper.

He spun away to untangle another tool from his collection, shoving things around as he tried to find what he wanted.

Chest heaving, blood and sick and sweat and tears smeared across his front, Jake looked up through hazy eyes and met Milo’s gaze.

The kid was mortified.

Milo’s eyes were wide, bloodshot whites surrounding watery irises. His face was so pale it made his freckles stand out like bullet wounds, his body shaking against the rope binding him to the chair. His throat was already scraped red from the noose dangling threateningly around it. Milo had never witnessed brutality like this before, not outside of television where he was fully aware of how fake it was. Jake wanted to apologize, but his voice was gone, lost under years of conditioned silence because he knew a single word from him would only make things worse.

Aaron turning towards him again made Jake look away. It killed him to do it but the longer he kept Aaron’s attention, the safer Milo would be.

“So scrawny,” Aaron muttered through gritted teeth, wearing something that was akin to a grimace of triumph, “Bet you’re not eating right, huh big brother? You never did. I should be a better sibling…should help you with that.” Jake shook his head and Aaron’s eyes narrowed, “Open your mouth.”

Jake’s throat clicked as he swallowed dryly, clenching his jaw when he caught sight of the plastic tubing and funnel rigged together in Aaron’s hands. The funnel was attached at one end of the tube and the other end was patched awkwardly into some kind of series of straps. Jake could guess what it was for and it was enough to make his stomach turn.

“Open. Your. Mouth.” Aaron’s voice was a stinging lance that made Jake flinch. But, trembling and avoiding his brother’s eye, Jake’s lips parted and he slowly opened his mouth.

Not fast enough for Aaron.

A fist coiled into Jake’s hair, yanking his head back and baring his throat. Jake let out a cry of surprise and pain that was quickly muffled by the foul plastic tubing being wedged into his jaw, pressing against his tongue and shoved almost to the back of his mouth, making him gag. He shook his head, trying to dislodge it, trying to pull away. Aaron snarled and swore, fighting back and shoving Jake against the chair to connect the straps holding the tube in place. Jake let out a muffled scream into the tube, glaring at Aaron as he brother stepped back, pushing greasy black hair from his face with a satisfied smirk.

“Like it? I made it myself,” Aaron patted the side of Jake’s face and Jake cringed away, “Now let’s see what I can feed my poor, starving brother…” Aaron shuffled away to start pulling open cabinets and drawers, inspecting the food in the kitchen, humming and muttering to himself.

Jake struggled, trying to free his uninjured arm, wriggling it against the extension cord even when it pinched and rubbed his skin raw. He glanced up at Milo, trying to apologize, trying to reassure, trying to be there for Milo even though nothing good would ever come of this. Milo was sniffling and crying, trying to keep it in, trying to be strong when he shouldn’t have to be. Jake ached to think of the scars this would leave.

He’d never wanted to be the reason for Milo to cry.

“Oooohh, this’ll work!” Aaron stepped back from the fridge, kicking the door closed with a gleeful little chuckle. He held a jug of milk and a couple of cans of Milo’s favorite energy drinks, all of which he dumped on the table while he scrounged around for something to mix them all in. Jake whimpered and Aaron laughed, dropping a bowl and a container of chicken stock beside the milk and drinks, “Don’t worry, Jakey, let your little brother take care of dinner for you!”

Aaron whistled as he poured both energy drinks into the bowl and then mixed in the milk and chicken stock. The concoction smelled atrocious and looked worse; a pale, hazy snot green that looked slightly greasy. Jake shook his head frantically as Aaron approached with the bowl, trying to dislodge the tube from his mouth, thrashing with all his might against the restraints. Behind Aaron, he could see Milo’s chest heaving, eyes wide and horrified, helpless.

“Bottom’s up, Jake!” Aaron sing-songed. He picked up the funnel and slowly started tipping his horrid mixture in, watching it sluice down the tube into Jake’s mouth.

The second it touched his tongue, Jake wretched, dry heaving and trying to spit it up. But Aaron just kept pouring it and he either had to choke or swallow it down. It felt slick in his throat, burning and disgusting, sitting in his stomach like a lead weight, the aftertaste as caustic as the stuff itself. Another horrible laugh came from Aaron as he dropped the empty bowl and wrenched the straps from Jake’s head, jerking him forward, strings of saliva clinging to the tube as it fell out of Jake’s mouth. Jake coughed, gagged, coughed again, eyes watering, stomach churning, wishing desperately he could throw up. But, god, if he did, Aaron might try to feed him something worse.

“And for dessert…” He heard Aaron say from the end of a long tunnel. He raised his head, watching through blurry eyes as his younger brother picked up a knife from the pile on the table. Aaron slid it from its sheath, inspected it in the light, and grinned at Jake.

Jake just stared at him, wheezing with every shallow inhale, sagging in his bonds.

Aaron scoffed, “Yeah, you’re right…I don’t think I’ve tenderized the meat enough.” He put the knife back into its sheath and grabbed a thick metal pipe instead, rusted and slightly bent out of shape but still dangerous enough to do its job. He hefted it in his hand as he approached Jake.

“STOP IT!”

The voice was like a lance that made the room freeze.

Jake held absolutely still, heart pounding painfully hard in his chest, palms sweating, praying he had only imagined the shout.

“Stop it!” Milo repeated to Aaron’s hunched back and Jake wished he wouldn’t, “Stop hurting my dad! He never did anything to you! So stop it!”

Ice settled in Jake’s chest as Aaron turned to face the teenager. Jake frantically shook his head behind Aaron’s back, trying to tell Milo to just be quiet, to just let this happen because it was inevitable, it had to happen, it was his place in the universe to let it happen. Jake would always run, Aaron would always find him, and Jake would always be punished for being the bad son. No one else needed to be involved, no one else needed to be hurt. If Milo would just stay quiet then things would go back to normal, they would be okay. Jake would eventually walk off the bruises and cuts and the memories would fade into nightmares and be forgotten for what they really were and Milo wouldn’t have anything to worry about. Jake didn’t care how many scars he had to carry if it meant that Milo would never have to experience any at all.

“I told you to BE! QUIET!” Aaron stomped across the room, rearing back with the pipe as he neared Milo.

Milo jerked back, forgetting his predicament and tightening the noose on his own neck. He gagged, his cries choked by the rope cutting off his air supply, feet scrabbling to try and back away from the man approaching him. Jake’s fear escalated to a point where it felt like his heart was tearing itself into pieces. And he would let it, he would gladly let his heart explode if it meant Milo would be spared.

Years of conditioning wrenched his mind in twenty different direction, his eyes burning and his throat closing as he struggled to speak. If he said something he could get Aaron’s attention away from Milo. But if he spoke, then Aaron would make things worse, he always made things worse if Jake said anything, even if it was just a wordless cry of pain, Aaron wouldn’t stand for it. Jake swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to force his voice out despite the way it made his mouth taste like ash and made his tongue feel heavy with fear.

But before he could make a sound, someone else spoke up.

“Milo? Were you eating dinner? I tried texting but y—“

Cody stood frozen in the threshold to the kitchen, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open as he processed what he was seeing.

For a long minute, there was silence as everyone stared at each other.

Then Jake pushed the words out past the vice in his chest, “CODY! RUN!!”

Cody bolted and Aaron launched himself after the teenager with a scream of rage.

He took a swipe with the pipe and managed to bash it into the side of Cody’s legs, tangling them and sending them both crashing to the floor. Aaron grabbed onto Cody’s ankle and tried to pull him closer but Cody kicked out with his free leg, the heel of his sneaker smashing into Aaron’s face with a crunch of snapping cartilage. Aaron howled in a combination of rage and pain, letting go of Cody in order to clutch at his face. Cody backed away, fumbling his phone out of his pocket, his fingers shaking on the touch screen as he dialed for help.

“H-hello! Th-there’s a man—he tied up my friend—he—he’s trying to hurt me—!”

The sound that came out of Aaron’s mouth was one of inhuman fury. His face was smeared in blood from his broken nose, madness glowing in his eyes as he heaved himself off the floor. A red handprint plastered over the white kitchen tile, the pipe scraping like a furious banshee as he dragged it up beside him. Cody screamed, bolting in the other direction, running around to put the table between himself and Aaron.

Jake was trying to wriggle free of his restraints again, pulling and pressing his good arm as much as he could, ignoring the way the extension cord bit into his sides and made his legs ache. He managed to wrestle his hand free and he twisted, frantically feeling for where he knew the knot was and picking at it, fingers bruised and numb and sore as he tried to undo the rubber cord.

Cody was playing chicken around the dining room table with Aaron. Dodging one way when Aaron went the other. Aaron was getting furious, banging his pipe on the table whenever Cody tried to snag a weapon of his own or got too close. Milo was shouting, shaking in his chair, desperate to wriggle free but knowing what moving would cost him. It was a stalemate; Cody couldn’t get past Aaron but Aaron couldn’t pin Cody, nor could Aaron get Milo to shut up without taking his attention off of Cody.

What Aaron had forgotten, it seemed, was that Jake was very used to escaping from Aaron. He knew all of Aaron’s little tricks.

The knot in the extension cord came loose and then, free. Jake rattled back and forth in the chair, wrenching his dislocated arm, kicking numb legs that didn’t want to cooperate, clawing his way out of the clinging cord. He saw Aaron glance back at him and then do a double take when he realized Jake was freeing himself. He screamed in rage and threw himself at Jake instead, swinging wildly with the pipe. Jake screamed, throwing himself backwards and tipping the entire chair over so he slammed into the floor. The pipe connected with his shin in a savage blow that shattered inside him, drawing out another scream of pain. But his other foot swung up and kicked Aaron’s hand, knocking the pipe free and sending it clattering across the floor.

Aaron was blinded by rage, launching himself at Jake with his bare hands. Jake skittered out of the chair and out of the way just in time, gasping as Aaron went head over heels over the seat of the chair and crashed into the cabinets.

“GET MILO OUT!” Jake shouted to Cody, trying to scramble to his feet, trying to reach for something on the table, anything to give him an advantage against Aaron, “GO! JUST GO! I’LL—“

His voice cut off as hands closed tight around his throat, thumbs pressing into his windpipe, fingers digging into the back of his neck. A heavy body pinned him to the floor, the back of his head knocking against the tile, spine grinding into the grout.

“You’ll what, Jake,” Aaron hissed, spitting blood and rage as he leered over his brother, strangling him with all his strength, ignoring Jake’s weak kicks and flailing hand, “Fight me? Me? You can’t stop me! You never could! You couldn’t stop me when we were kids! You couldn’t stop mom from hurting us! Instead you ran away! You ran away and there was no one to stop her from hurting me! This is your fault! This is all your fucking fault!”

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY DAD!”

A whirlwind of red and blue collided with Aaron, knocking him over, and Jake gasped as air rushed back into his straining lungs. He tried to yell at Milo, tried to tell him to run, but he could only cough, clutching at his chest, trying to breathe. The pain beneath his ribs was an inferno of burning acid, flaring in stuttering bursts, his limbs weak and shaky and refusing to obey him.

He heard Aaron scream in rage and pain and then the distinct thud of a fist hitting flesh.

Cody’s voice shouting, “Leave him alone!” And then another collision, more shouting and scrambling.

Distantly, Jake thought he heard the front door opening.

Or maybe he was just hoping that someone was coming to save them.

Shaking and wheezing, eyes fuzzing in and out of focus, chest flaring with agony that drowned everything else out, Jake heaved himself onto his side. He could barely make out the blurry, writhing shape that was Cody and Milo wrestling with Aaron.

Two teenage boys could not fight a full grown man.

“S-sto—stop—“ Jake tried to call to them but his throat didn’t work right and it hurt to breathe.

Someone screamed in pain. It did not sound like Aaron.

Anger and a fierce protectiveness flared to life in Jake, momentarily surging over the pain and exhaustion trying to drag him down. He hauled himself to his feet, lurching over to where Aaron was trying to pin down Cody, Milo on Aaron’s back, pulling at that greasy hair and trying to beat him with fists that seemed too tiny and ineffective. Fury like Jake hadn’t felt since his younger days had him drawing back his leg and kicking Aaron square in the ribs.

Aaron dropped back from Cody with a grunt, spilling Milo from his shoulders, and before he could recover, Jake kicked him again. Then he fell atop Aaron and beat his fist into his younger bother as hard as he could. Someone was shouting, screaming a hoarse voice to stay away from his family. There was red, hot and sticky on Jake’s fist, scratches on his arms.

Someone was pulling at him, dragging him off of Aaron, jostling his broken leg and making him cry out.

He didn’t know where Cody and Milo were.

There were strangers in the house.

Voices were overwhelming him.

His chest was on fire and his lungs weren’t working.

Jake fell unconscious.

———

He woke up in a hospital.

Because of course he did.

Everything ached, a dull throb through his entire body, an even wave of dull pain washing over him with everything shallow breath he took. Jake decided it wasn’t worth the energy to try and stay awake, and so he passed out again.

———

He woke up.

The room was dark. The steady beat of the heart monitor a familiar drone in the background. Someone’s soft breathing came from his bedside.

He was safe.

He fell asleep.

———

He woke up.

Someone’s hand was on his, big and warm and a little calloused.

It took a hundred years for Jake to turn his head and a hundred more for his tired eyes to focus.

Dan was slumped in a chair next to the hospital bed, looking pale and exhausted, his hand lightly resting over Jake’s. He looked like he’d been sitting there for decades.

Jake tried to say something but all that came out was a little gasp of air.

Dan’s head jerked up and their eyes met. Jake tried to smile but his face felt sore. Tears welled up in Dan’s eyes and he clutched at Jake’s hand with both of his, turning towards the door to shout something that was too muffled and far away for Jake to focus on.

He fell asleep.

———

He woke up.

The scent of flowers, a little dry, very faint against the chemicals of the hospital.

No hand on his this time.

The scratch of a pen on paper.

Jake pried his eyes open enough to look around.

A nurse was copying down the information from the monitors hooked to him. She glanced at him and jumped when she saw he was awake.

Suddenly there were doctors and nurses everywhere, shining lights in his eyes, asking him questions he struggled to answer with a tongue made a sandpaper and a throat as dry as the desert.

At some point, it was just too much.

He fell asleep.

———

He woke up.

Something warm was pressed against his side.

It didn’t take as long for him to move this time, though his head still felt like a bowling ball packed with concrete while he did it.

A familiar mop of messy red hair and a soft hoodie.

Milo had tucked himself under Jake’s arm and was curled against him, asleep with his head on Jake’s chest, one hand lightly fisted in Jake’s hospital gown and his brow scrunched up in his sleep. Jake watched him dazedly for a moment and then, very slowly, moved a hand to brush it through Milo’s hair, gently and softly petting his head. The crease between Milo’s eyebrows eased, smoothed out, and he seemed to relax a little, snuggling closer to Jake’s side. Jake winced a little at the pressure, but smiled thinly at the warmth.

At least he knew Milo was okay.

Milo was safe.

Milo was alive.

Jake fell asleep.

———

He woke up far more coherent than he had been before.

When Jake looked around, he saw the slightly wilted flowers in the vase on his bedside table surrounded by a handful of get well soon cards and a well loved shark plush watching over him. With a tremendous effort, he reached out and slid the shark plushie off the table and onto the bed, dragging it closer so he could pet its soft fur.

It was one of Milo’s favorites.

The door opened.

Jake barely had time to register that it was Dan who had come in before Dan was across the room, cupping Jake’s face in his hands and crying.

“You idiot!” Dan babbled, holding Jake like fragile china but still holding him as close as he dared, “You’re so stupid, Jake! You could have died! You idiot! Stupid!”

Jake weakly patted Dan, murmuring quiet reassurances no louder than a whisper, tears on his own face that he didn’t bother hiding. Dan was warm, comforting, strong, familiar. Dan was family. He smoothed Jake’s hair back, sniffing and checking him over, muttering about how happy he was that Jake was okay, that Jake was alive.

“Wh’ happen’d…?” Jake managed to ask. His throat still felt raw and his chest was sore, but it was a fair sight better than it had been.

Dan mellowed at the question, easing down into a chair and holding onto Jake’s hand. Jake’s other hand was still awkwardly stroking the soft shark plush.

“Dom…Dom said he heard police sirens,” Dan said quietly, staring at Jake’s thin and pale fingers against his own broad, dark ones, “Came out to see what was happening. He saw the cars at the other end of the street, coming towards him. Then he heard screaming from inside the house. So he came running in and—“ Dan swallowed hard, squeezing Jake’s hand, “And you were punching Aaron in the face, screaming at him not to touch the kids. You were really beat up, Jake. But it took Dom and three other police officers to pull you off of Aaron. And the second they did, you passed out and threw up. In…in that order…”

Jake grimaced; he could only imagine what that must have looked like, “A-are the kids…?”

“Milo and Cody are both okay,” Dan assured him with a sad smile that said there would probably be plenty of therapy bills in their future, “No permanent damage, just a lot of bruising. Milo wouldn’t stop talking about how cool you looked…”

Jake chuckled, coughed a little, and sagged back against the bed with a tired sigh. He stared at the ceiling for a long time before whispering,

“And Aaron?”

Silence. Jake turned his head enough to look at Dan. There was an expression on Dan’s face like he wasn’t sure about the contents of a questionable container of food found at the back of a fridge. Jake frowned.

“Dan…what h-happened to Aaron?”

“Um…” Dan cupped Jake’s hand in both of his, looked like he was working up the courage to say something, “They, um. They think he—it looks like he had some kind of—of psychotic break. He—your mom is…gone. Then he came looking for you. He’s committed now. I don’t think he’s ever going to…get out…” His look was one of sympathy and pity and apologies he didn’t owe, “Jake, I…I’m really sorry…”

Jake turned away to look at the ceiling again and tried to figure out how he felt.

Aaron had killed their mother.

Aaron was probably going to kill him.

Aaron might have tried to kill Milo.

It felt like too much to deal with all at once. Jake closed his eyes and let out a heavy, wheezing sigh,

“When can I go home?”

He felt Dan’s smile rather than saw it, “Not for a few days yet, buddy. Want me to see if Milo can come by? You’ve been asleep every time he’s visited. Bet he’d like to see you.”

Jake thought about the little spitfire of energy that was Milo, the wide smile, the eager spark. The terror in his eyes. The rope biting into his neck. The righteous anger in his voice.

“Yeah,” He said, looking at the little shark beneath his hand, “I want to tell him thank you.”