#please tell him to pay for my therapy bills this is not funny at all 😖😖

[euphor1a]

I’m not sure if I want to fight this man to the death or him to annihilate me entirely

[atmostories]

Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Tags: Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Alcohol Abuse, Depression Matter - Chapter One The first few weeks after you broke up with Johnny, you were a complete mess. Even though you had made the right decision it didn't make it any easier. The days were a vague blur, where you muddled through your daily routine without really experiencing it. You couldn't stop thinking about that night, it was the anniversary of his mother's death. You'd found him unconscious and sprawled out on the floor by the sofa. A strange sound was coming from him as his body convulsed slightly.

When you crouched down beside him, you'd realised that he was choking on his own vomit. Immediately you turned him onto his side and lifted up his chin to open his airway. He started to cough only a couple of seconds later as the vomit spewed out of his mouth.

He noisily wheezed in air, but he still didn't come to as you called out his name over and over. After accepting that he wasn't going wake up anytime soon, you wiped his face clean and laid down beside him. You tried not to shake in fear as you placed a hand on his chest to make sure he was still breathing. He'd almost died right in front of you.

You didn't sleep. You were wide awake the whole night watching over him. It wasn't until the morning when he finally woke up. His first instinct was to grab a bottle of beer on the table and down its remaining contents. When you told him what happened, he didn't even bother to apologise before downplaying the whole thing. You should have been angry, you should have told him to try to get sober, to go to therapy, to go to AA, but you'd said that all before. Every time you'd try to suggest him getting help, he'd shoot you down, saying that he didn't need any of that pussy shit and he didn't have a problem in the first place.

You just couldn't do this anymore.

After he stalked off to work, you packed up your stuff from his apartment and left. He called later that evening, asking where the fuck you were, demanding to know why your clothes were missing from the closet. You told him to meet you at a diner, it wasn't a conversation to have over the phone. You were waiting in the parking lot when he turned up. Rather than going inside, you got into the passenger seat of his Firebird.

Johnny didn't say hello, he didn't say anything for a while. He must have realised what was happening. Fuck, you really didn't want to do this. You'd been contemplating it for months, always managing to convince yourself to give him another chance, to respect that his addiction was a very complex and difficult thing.

Every day you'd worry about him, fearing that he might have gotten into a fight with someone again, panicking that he'd blackout at the wheel of his Firebird after coming home from a bar. He wasn't just putting himself at risk, but everyone he came across. You had numerous arguments with him about the drunk driving. He'd say that he hadn't had too many and he was perfectly fine to drive. He would then apologise and say he wouldn't do it anymore, and then a week later he'd do it all over again.

You knew he was a good man. That was the problem. It was buried underneath decades of shame and guilt and regret and hurt. You were not equipped to deal with it. You'd tried, you had tried so fucking hard. It had become such a burden that your own problems didn't matter, what you felt was always inconsequential.

But now what you said was going to matter.

“Look about last night,” Johnny mumbled, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Things might have gotten a little out of hand. . .”

“You almost died, Johnny,” you told him numbly. He looked at you then, his eyes searing into you and making your heart ache profusely. The tears welled up in your eyes. “You almost fucking died.”

Guilt bled across his expression before he looked away. The reprieve from his gaze gave you the chance to suck in an unsteady breath. You were still for a few moments before you pulled the key to his apartment from your pocket and held it out to him.

“I can't be with you anymore.”

“What, so that's it? You're just gonna leave because of one fuck up?” He asked angrily, his arm resting on the wheel as he turned to face you. You scoffed out a curt laugh, he was unbelievable. “You think this is funny?”

“You know that's not true,” you replied calmly, not wanting to get into an argument with him. He didn't reply. You let your arm fall into your lap, not bothering to keep holding the key out for him. Rather than wait for him to take it, you opened up the dash to put it inside. Before you could put it on top of some receipts, he snatched hold of your wrist.

“That key's not on loan, I gave it to you,” he snarled, he was deeply offended by the gesture. It was an insult to reject his gift, but you knew he didn't mean just that. You were rejecting him. Staring down at his hand, you waited until he loosened his grip and let your wrist go.

“When I told you that you're always welcome, I meant it,” he spat at you. In his eyes, what you had said to him didn't matter, when you had told him you loved him you didn't really mean it. You were nothing but a worthless liar.

“I'll always care about you,” you replied, hoping that he would understand you were telling the truth.

“Bullshit. You're just like the rest of them.”

“Johnny-”

“I thought you were different, but you're gonna leave like everyone else.”

“You don't understand-”

“No I get it. You know what? Keep the key, throw it in the trash, I don't care. Just get out of my car.”

“Please I-”

“Get out!” He shouted, your body jolting at the sound of his rage. You barely managed to swallow down a sob as you scrambled to leave the car. He started up the engine as you closed the door and he gunned it out of the lot.

You watched him drive off, not quite believing what had happened. But he was gone, just like you wanted.

- - -

It was almost a month since you'd last seen him. You got a call from Sid, that mean old bastard, as he explained how he graciously bailed out his step-son for the last time and that Johnny was no longer his responsibility. He managed to throw in a couple more insults as he told you to deal with Johnny from now on, suggesting to try payday loans or hustling the next time you had to pay for his bail. You hung up right after that, infuriated that Johnny had to grow up with someone like him.

Though your first instinct was to go straight to his apartment, you gave him a call instead, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

“Hello?” Johnny answered, he obviously hadn't checked to see who was calling him.

“Hey, Johnny.” The other end of the line was silent for a beat too long, you hurried to say something else before he could hang up. “I wanted to make sure you're okay. Sid gave me a call, he said that he bailed you out of jail.”

He huffed and hummed in displeasure. “Of course he did.”

“A-Are you?”

“What?”

“Okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“I was worried, I-”

“Yeah well, you don't need to do that anymore, do you?” Before you could say anything else, he hung up. The pain in your heart was the same as when he had driven away from the diner. Why wasn't it easing, even a little?

You missed him so much.

- - -

The new apartment you were living in was worse than Johnny's. You had to work extra shifts and overtime to pay the rent, and you were still struggling. It hadn't been as bad when you'd lived with him, he'd split the bills with you.

You were on a lunch break, thinking about going to the grocery store to buy some dish detergent. There weren't any clean dishes left, you'd gone through everything. You'd already used a mug as a substitute for a bowl several times. Your phone started ringing, distracting you from the thought. Seeing that it was Johnny calling made your chest twinge in discomfort.

“Hello?” You answered hesitantly.

“You left some of your stuff here,” he said bluntly without preamble. You were so shocked that he had called that you didn't manage to spit out a reply.

“Are you gonna come pick it up?” He prompted.

“Uh yeah, of course. What um. . .when do you want me to come over?”

“Anytime past eight.”

“Okay.”

“I've gotta go.” He didn't you a chance to say goodbye, or to ask whether he meant tonight. That must have been what he was saying, right? The rest of the day you were a wreck of nerves, unsure of how badly the next meeting with Johnny was going to go. Hadn't you taken everything from the apartment? What if he thought you had purposefully left it to give yourself an excuse to see him again?

Ten minutes past eight o'clock, you were walking up to his apartment, worrying that you might be too early. Should you have come at half eight or nine? You tried to stead yourself before knocking. When he opened up the door, you were surprised to see that he was clean-shaven. He looked good. . .healthy. The last time he'd shaved was when he saw Robby a while ago. The two of them had gotten into an argument. Johnny didn't take it well. After picking a fight with you, he went on a two day bender.

From the way he was looking you over, it was like he wasn't expecting you at all. Did he not mean tonight? Before you could tell him you'd come back another time, he opened up the door fully, gesturing for you to come inside by tilting his head.

After he closed the door behind you, he walked over to the kitchen. You didn't know what to do with yourself. The place felt so familiar, but at the same time there was now an underlying hostility to it. Sitting down would be too presumptuous, you didn't want to upset him. He opened up the refrigerator, you wondered how much stuff he had in there but you couldn't quite see from this angle. Johnny had a tendency to be forgetful about the groceries, but not the beer though. He never forgot the beer.

“You want something to drink?” He asked, you weren't sure if he was actually offering alcohol.

“No, thanks.”

“I've got orange juice,” he clarified.

“I'm okay.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah.” He shut the refrigerator and walked up to you, his finger pointing at your face.

“Those bags under your eyes say different.”

“I've worked a couple long shifts, that's all.”

“Sure,” he replied, with a hint of irritation to his tone. He always could see right through you. Rather than bothering to ask you for the truth, he picked up a box and put it on the coffee table. “Your stuff's in here.”

He migrated back to the kitchen, giving you a chance to take a look at what was inside. There were some toiletries, a toothbrush, a couple CDs, a tupperware box and an old Metallica shirt.

“This shirt is yours,” you told him, folding it up and placing it onto the table.

“The amount of times you've worn it. . .pretty sure it's yours.” There was a weak smile on his face. He was trying to break through the tension, ease up the conversation. You almost breathed out a sigh of relief, appreciative that he was trying to make this easier.

“It's really comfortable. Couldn't ever fault your taste in classic band shirts,” you responded in kind in an attempt to keep things jovial.

“Just everything else, huh?” He retorted, his eyes flicking away, his mouth twitching like he hadn't meant to say that. Awkwardly, you shuffled the items around the box, wondering how to recover the conversation without it degrading into something unpleasant. A knock on the front door pulled you from the thought. He had a grimace on his face as he went to see who it was. There was a kid the other side of the door.

“Sensei! I forgot to ask earlier, are there some exercises I should be doing in the morning? I was reading this article about metabolism and-”

“Now's really not a good time,” Johnny told him, trying to gently dismiss him. The kid then spotted you, his eyebrows raising in surprise. You gave him a half-hearted wave, wondering why he was calling Johnny Sensei.

“Oh, is that your friend?”

“What part of not a good time don't you get?”

“Sorry I uhh. . .guess I'll come back tomorrow?”

“Mmmhmm,” Johnny hummed. He answered the kid's question as he began to close the door. “Fifty crunches, forty lunges, thirty push ups.”

“Is that forty lunges per leg or-” The door was shut before the kid could finish. Johnny turned around, shifting his weight uncomfortably like you'd seen something you weren't meant to. You wanted to ask what the whole Sensei thing was about, why some kid was asking him about what exercises he should be doing in the morning.

“He seems like a good kid.”

“Yeah, when he's not being annoying.” There was no insult to his words, you could tell that Johnny liked him.

“What's his name?”

“Miguel. He lives in the apartment opposite.”

“Oh right,” you replied, unsure why he was making friends with the neighbours. He hadn't ever done that before. You turned your attention back to the contents of the box, fingers running along the edge of a CD case. It felt so strange being removed from Johnny's life, being unwelcome to the facets of his life. You had asked the most polite and unobtrusive questions you could think of, but you couldn't come up with anything else.

“I opened up a dojo,” he told you, his hands hanging awkwardly by his side.

“A dojo? You're doing karate again?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you hadn't done karate since you were in high school?”

“I haven't. Not until now.”

“Oh,” you muttered, mind replaying everything he had told you about Kreese. Sometimes he had nightmares about his old Sensei, he'd wake up shaking, struggling to breathe. One time he accidentally elbowed you in the face because you were too close. You had an arm around him, you had been pressed up against his back, spooning him. That was the last time you'd slept like that.

“But after everything that happened with Cobra Kai, I thought. . .” you trailed off.

“It's going to be different. It's not going to be like how it was before.” With Kreese, you finished wordlessly, understanding what he meant. Was it really a good idea for him to be doing karate again? You remembered the fights he'd gotten into, he was proficient enough as it was. It would give him direction though, something to focus on, something to work towards. He needed that.

But where did he get the money to open his own dojo? It must have expensive. Was it Sid? Was it part of his final pay off to get rid of Johnny for good?

“Miguel's your student then?”

“Yeah, he's my first one.”

“That's great, Johnny,” you told him honestly, knowing that this could get him back on track. “I'm happy for you.” He stared for a few moments, there was something off about his expression. Did he not believe you? He nodded non-committally in response.

You pointlessly shuffled around a few things in the box to give yourself something to do. The silence hung heavy in the air. You didn't want to leave, but you didn't feel welcome anymore.

“Was there anything else?” You asked, after you refolded the Metallica shirt and carefully tucked it away into the box. There wasn't anything more you could do to prolong your time with him.

“No, it's all in there.” Picking up the box, you slowly approached Johnny as he stood by the door.

“Thanks for calling me.” You pressed your lips together in a polite smile. “I hope everything goes well at the dojo.”

“Me too.” Johnny didn't move to open up the door, you wondered if he was expecting you to go around him. You took another step forward, shifting your grip on the box. Another few seconds passed until he finally opened the door. He brushed his hand along your arm as you moved past him. The sensation of his touch was a harsh reminder of how much you missed the intimacy you once shared with him. You were nothing but acquaintances now.

“Maybe take it easy with work, hmm?” He suggested gently. You must have looked worse than you realised. You nodded your head, you couldn't tell him that you would take it easy, that wasn't a choice you had.

As you walked off, you were perturbed by the thought that that was the last time you'd ever be in his apartment. - - - Hope you enjoyed it! I’m currently writing the next chapter and will share it when it’s finished. Do any of you want me to start a taglist for this? I’d be more than happy too. 

[yandere-mha-blog]

Chapter 3: Getting interesting

Words: 2176

You sat alone at your desk that day, looking over at Fumiko who saw you looking knowing that you knew that she was looking at you, and quickly turned her head, she must have felt ashamed about how everything was handled. You were paying attention like usual when you overheard some girls talking.

“So did you hear that Akio got put in the hospital by the nighthawk.” one said

“Really, you would think the heroes would have caught him by now.” the other one said, you had to hold your tongue saying how Akio was actually a bastard and had it coming that night, still then people would talk about you and your involvement and right now you had to finish school, four years of this wasn't about to be flushed down the drain because you were interested in this so-called villain, still it brought up a lot of questions now, how many of these attacks were actually prompted, what other tricks was he able to pull off.

You left your last class around 9 at night, night classes always sucked but what else could you do as you kept walking down the pavement only to see something bright red catch your eye. You stopped to make sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you as you saw the red feather laying on the ground the other way, was this another “gift” of his?

Curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back, so you went over to the feather and it moved down the street, was he playing with you, it was either follow the feather or go home and do more boring work. So you followed the feather to satisfy your curiosity as you went down the street. What exactly was he doing as the feather stopped outside a public park? It was empty or so you thought as you picked up the feather and walked in.

“I believe you dropped this,” you said looking up in a tree to see him with his foot dangling down

“Oh is that where I left it, you are doing me a big favor by bringing it here,” he said as the feather flew out of your hand and attached back to his wings

“I know you can control them, so what is this about?” you asked

“What about it, I am just chilling in a tree.” he said, “you are the one who followed my feather-like a baby duck following its mother.” “I am not a baby duck.” you said “Why do you keep leaving them for me to find?”

“Because...we are both birds,” he said

“You have to be kidding me, I'm not a bird,” you said

“Sure you are, you got them sharp talons, you can do some serious damage to someone if you wanted, is that why you want to become a doctor.”

“Excuse me, how do you know that?” you said

“I can also hear through my feathers you know.” he said “And see, like how a dolphin has echolocation.” “More like a platypus and it's bill,” you said

“Hahah true, true.” he said “When you sliced open my feather oh so rudely the other day, I was also able to see all your textbooks.” He said stretching his wings out “is why you want to become a doctor, because it's the only way you can cut people open without being labeled violent.”

“...” you were silent as one of his bigger feathers nudge your face

“You can tell me.” he said “I am not one to judge here, you know.”

“Why are you so interested in that?” you asked

“Tell you what, you tell me the truth and ill tell you something interesting about my glorious self,” he said

“Okay fine, you got me okay, I don't know what it is but as a child I would find dead animals and just want to use my talons to study them more, I was curious about it,” you said

“Well birds gotta fly, you gotta do that.” Hawks said, “So did your parents find out.”

“They did, they sent me to therapy and I suppressed it, till well I was doing dissection in class and well old habits die hard I guess,” you said

“You are telling me.” Hawks said, patting your head with one of his wings “So then what happened?” “I got sent to the school therapist, again, and she told me my curiosity was good but wasn't being used the right way and that there are other ways to learn about stuff and maybe biology was my passion, but using a scalpel can only go so far.”

“I get that like I can fly a plane, but it isn't anything like using my wings.” Hawks said, “Now my turn, hm let's see what can I tell you.”

“Why are you a villain?” you asked

“I don't like people telling me what to do, I like to do what I want on my terms.” He said, “I can't exactly do that if someone has their hands on my wings.”

“So you don't see yourself as a villain?” you asked

“Not really, the Hero public safety commission has been trying to get their hands on me since I was a child, maybe that's why I;m able to be better than most trained heroes.”

“Really now,” you said, so that's why they were so adamant about catching him.

“Haha, they won't ever catch me.” Hawks said “Anyway, I think you need to stop suppressing your quirk. When I saw you use your quirk on that guy who attacked you, you got scared after using your quirk on him.”

“I was mostly angry at him, why did you go after him?” you asked

“It's what I do, I see someone hurting someone else. I don't care if they are a hero, villain, or civilian.” “Well right now you are the only one who is on my side,” you said kicking the ground

“Funny, I feel the same way about you.” He said with a smile, you laughed a bit

“YOu aren't anything like I expected.” you said “I read so many news stories about how you were some evil killer villain, yet here you are having a full conversation with a civilian.”

“Hahah it's kinda funny when you think about it, you get bored easily huh?”

“I do and I hate it.” you said swinging your arms out “I mean each day something over and over again, learning stuff I already know just so I can satisfy my quirk.”

“Well if you got talons use them, you don't see me not using my wings.” he laughed with you “Still you should enjoy your boredom when you can.” “Haha I’ll try, thanks hawks I feel better,” you said

“I feel better too, when you are running from the law you don't have time to sit back and talk much, most people run away screaming.” “Hmm wonder where they would get that idea from,” you said

“Haha yeah wonder where.” Hawks said before his laughter died down. “Still it's getting late. You should head back to your dorm and enjoy a nice cup of tea.”

“I will, thanks for talking to me, you think we will talk again?” you asked

“Maybe if our paths cross again,” he said standing up in the tree

“What does that mean?” you asked, he just tilted his head before smiling, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone only with a gust of wind left in your face.

Maybe it was the fact you were smiling all day the next day that Fumiko was getting worried about you since at lunch she walked over

“Hey…(name) can we talk?” she asked

“Sure,” you said

“Well, Akio is getting out of the hospital and I would like if we can all talk this out,” she said

“Fine, I'll 'talk 'to him,” you said, wanting to see his face and maybe giving him a couple of good slaps.

“Great, I'm glad we can all sweep this under the rug,” she said, no you were not going to sweep this under the rug, what delusional world was she living in.

Still, you went with her to the hospital to see this man again, you and her went into his hospital room and he was slashed up, good you thought.

“Hey Akio how are you feeling?” she asked

“I'm doing good, thanks,” he said

“That's too bad,” you said crossing your arms

“(name) Akio is recovering can’t you try to forgive him?” she asked

“Forgive him, after what he tried to pull,” you said

“Hey, I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing.” he said.'' Besides, didn't pay the price, I almost died.” you rolled your eyes

“Oh please if the Nighthawk wanted you dead you would be dead.” you said “I let me tell you i will never forgive you, oh you were drunk, you seem sober enough to try to get me home, to walk out of the bar without stumbling, the only reason I'm not taking this to the police is that I know shit bags like you get off with this every time.”

“Hey I was just trying to be nice!” he said, ” Hey Fumiko I thought you said you were here to smooth things over.”

“That's what I thought.” Fumiko said “Hasn't he suffered enough?

“No,” you said, “and if I see you come near me on campus again, you will wish the NIghthawk killed you.”

“(NAME)!” she yelled at you grabbing your arm, you brushed her off

“You are just as bad as he is,” you said and stomped out you got your message across by slamming the door.

You had better things to do anyways like reviewing your notes, you were getting bored again as you tapped your pencil on your desk.

Hawks on the other hand had just got done stopping a purse snatcher, where were the heroes anyway he thought that there should be more around this time as he reattached one of his bigger Primarie feathers, his work still wasn’t done for the night crime never slept there was always something going on somewhere. But he was getting hungry so he might as well grab something to eat as he landed in an alleyway and hid his wings and put his jacket over and walked into a convenient store to grab a bite.

“Is that all?” he asked

“Yup.” Hawks said

“Okay your total is 580 yen,” he said, hawks took out his coin pouch and paid the man, before leaving, convenience store food was easy to get and rather cheap but he was worried he was gonna gain a gut at this point, with his wings he wouldn't have anything hindering his flight ability, he wondered how miss talons were doing right now, maybe he would stop by for a visit.

You were about to pass out at your desk when you heard a tapping at your window, you looked over and saw Hawks hanging upside down tapping at your window. You walked over and opened the door.

“Oh so our paths do meet again it seems,” you said

“You know it chickadee,” he said. “Man convenience store food is good and all but it's so greasy.”

“How do you pay for that?” you asked

“I take money off the people I beat up.” Hawks said, “You look like you are in a bad mood?”

“I am,” you said

“What's got you under the weather?”Hawks asked

“Akio is getting out of the hospital and everyone is telling me to forgive him when I'm not.” You said

“Ahh well if it makes you feel better, I stole his wallet the other day.” Hawks said, you rolled your eyes

“I wish that made me feel better, I don't know why everyone is thinking I'm in the wrong here,” you said

“People are complicated, they don't like to believe someone they know is capable of doing dirty things.” Hawks said rubbing his chin “You can either let other people get you down when you are in the right, or you can know you are right and say screw em.”

“I say they screwed them.” you said “It feels nice to have someone on my side for once, this school sucks.”

“Why don't you leave, do something worth your time?” Hawks asked

“I...can’t,” you said

“OH, I see.” Hawks said, narrowing his eyes and flipping back up on the pole to his feet, “And here I thought you were different.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you said getting a little upset with him

“Nothing, nothing, I just thought you were a woman who did stuff worth her time is all, it's sad to see you wasting your potential here.” Hawks said

“I'm not wasting-” you want to say but a large gust of wind hit your face again and you sighed, before slamming the window shut in anger, anger that you felt like he was right.

[jawritter]

You and Me..

Chapter 2

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** This chapter is pretty light. Mentions of death of characters parents, Jensen is a little bit of an ass, language, that’s pretty much it. 

Word Count: 2057

Pairing: Jensen Ackles X Reader, Jared x reader, OFC Steve x Reader, OFC Justin x Reader.

A/N: When I originally wrote this chapter I didn’t even know who Steve Carlson was, so the Steve in this story isn’t him lol. Oddly enough I wrote this before I even really knew he was making an album lol. Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. After this chapter things tend to start to pick up a little.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

You woke up, much like you do every morning, with the alarm clock going off obnoxiously on your bedside table.  Mornings were never your thing, but the bills weren't going to pay themselves. You rub your face hard, trying to force your eyes to focus, and your body to stay awake even though it was putting up one hell of a fight. It wants sleep, and you so desperately want to give it just that.

Finally, after about 15 minutes you roll yourself over and stand up next to the bed, looking around your messy room. You had just moved back to Austin not all that long ago. You had always lived in Texas in one place or another, but just one family vacation to Austin when you were a teenager and you were in love with the city. So as soon as you graduated high school you wasted no time in putting your application in for the University of Texas.

Much to your surprise, and a few others, you were accepted. You had wanted to major in either writing or music. Everything went great for about the first semester. Your grades were good. You worked nights at a local bar, much like a lot of your classmates,  and spent your days in classes. You had new made friends, and you were finally starting to get your foothold in life. Well, that's what you thought anyway.

At the end of your first semester of college, your mother was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. When your family called you moved back to your home town, dropping everything to be with your family. Your mother and you were very close. There was no way you were going to stay away while she fights this demon that they call cancer.

It was a long fight. Over and over again she defied the odds of the doctors and everyone around her. Still, after a long five-year battle she lost her fight with the disease. Once the funeral was over you knew it was way too late to go back to college. You had taken some online courses though, and gotten your degree in creative writing while you were at home taking care of your mother.

You and your father had never really gotten along, so staying home wasn't going to be an option. With all that in mind, you did the only thing you knew to do. You made the move back to Austin in the same month as your mother's funeral. Your father had over the years fallen into alcoholism. He'd always fought it, but after your mother's death, it only got the best of him. You weren’t going to stick around and watch him destroy himself.

Last year he straightened out a curve on the way home. He never survived the crash. Your brother had him cremated. He didn't even bother calling you, and telling you till it was all over. Your brother wasn't happy about you leaving home. He blamed you for your dad's struggle with the bottle after mom died, but that wasn't your fault. You didn't put a funnel in his mouth and make him drink. No one twisted his arm. He did it all on his own.

For the past three years, you had been renting an apartment in downtown Austin. It was a small, just a studio apartment, but it was all you needed. You had also landed a job at a small recording stupid in Austin. Even though you loved writing, and still did it on the side, you hadn't gotten your break yet. Music was your passion. It was what got you up in the morning, and helped you make it through the day. It was your therapy. Your outlet. Your escape from this shit existence that was your life.

You had slowly worked your way up In the studio. Starting with getting coffee, and cleaning behind the artist that came in to record. It didn't take long for Steve, your boss, to see that you had a good ear for music. He put you helping in the recording booth not long after you started.

Today you were informed that there would be a new local artist coming in to start his recording process and you were put on his beat. They didn't tell you his name, but they did say that you would probably recognize him. Even though he was local, he was famous, but they didn’t tell you who he was in order to keep rumors down the only one who knew who was coming was Steve. They made you swear not to tell anyone that he was recording, telling you that he wanted it to stay a secret until the album was done. That's why he chose a local recording studio instead of some big one in California.

As you walked to the studio this morning your nerves were vibrating. Justin, another sound tech that would be working with you today, greeted you at the door.

"You ready Y/N?" he asked, greeting you with a smile over his shoulder.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you tell him, putting your purse under the counter in the lockbox you all used and turning your phone on silent. No outside noises were ever allowed in the studio.

"Well I hate to put more on us than we already got, but there are two things you need to know before the artist gets here today. First, Jennifer, the girl that normally does the coffee, drinks, and whatever else the artist needs isn't going to be here today, her son has strep. Second, Steve will also be sitting in on today's session," he said, looking at you apologetically. 

You hated working with Steve. He was such a jerk when it came to recording time. He wanted everything done too quickly. Always in a rush to make a deadline instead of taking his time, and getting the best recording.

Jennifer being gone, and two other guys in the sound room with you means that you will most likely be stuck on snake detail for this artist, and whatever bunch of groupies he's bringing with him all day.

"Lovely,” you said with a sarcastic eye roll. Justin continued to look at you apologetically.  

“It's cool, let's just get this started. I'll get the recording room ready. How many are in his party today?" you asked, waiting for the answer that you dreaded the most.

"Only one other guy will be coming with him today from what I understand. Today is gonna be a lot of met and discuss. From what I understand there will be a guest singing on this album too. So it's probably a good thing Steve's gonna be here. If this guy is a prick then Steve can handle him." 

Justin's attitude toward the whole situation cracked you up. Apparently, he was just as excited about this as you were.

You walk into the recording room and begin to sit out beers, whiskey, water, and even start the coffee pot going in the break room. You walk back in the recording room and start sitting out shot glasses and other things when you heard voices coming your way. You look up in time to meet a pair of deep emerald green eyes staring back at you.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look around the room at all the men.

"I'm the only chick, great," you think to yourself, but there was something about the smirk on the man's face standing in front of you with the emerald green eyes that made your stomach do flips with a feeling you've never felt before.

He smiled at you and It nearly knocked you off your feet. Damn, this guy is gorgeous. That's when Steve decided to speak up.

"Y/N, this is Mr. Jensen Ackles, and his friend, Jared. Mr. Ackles has graciously chosen our stupid to record his debut album," Steve says, moving to stand beside Jensen.

You try to keep your jaw from hitting the floor as you take in the two actors standing in front of you. You had been a fan of Supernatural for years.

You nod at the two men. "It's nice to meet," you say, and they both smile back at you. Neither spoke, which you found odd. When you watched the con videos online they seemed so friendly.

"The room is ready, Steve," you tell your boss, then quickly as you can scamper into the sound room with Justin to wait for them to get started. 

You didn't really need to know what all they were doing. You just needed to make sure that whatever they were doing sounded good on tape.

"You alright Y/N?" Justin asks as you sit down in the chair with a huff.

"Yeah, That's Jensen freaking Ackles. I'm going to be working with Jensen freaking Ackles," you say in a state of shock.

"Easy girl, you know celebrities don't like to be fangirled all over," Justin says with a chuckle as he fires up the equipment and computers.

"I'm a professional Justin. I'm not going to fangirl all over anyone," you tell him with an eye roll. 

You watch as the men stand there and talk, pointing to different things. Steve getting Jensen ready to get started.

After a few hours of recording, and some drinks later Jensen, as well as Steve and Jared, had loosened up a little. Jared was in the sound room with you guys watching his best friend work. He was easy to talk to. During a break in recording while you were downloading the song he just recorded into the computer, Jared had been showing you pictures of his kids. He'd been cracking you all up with stories for the past hour.

"See this is Tom, trying to prank his little brother with a whip cream pie," he said, leaning over to you, showing you the video. That's when the two of you heard Jensen’s deep voice boom over the monitors.

"Hey, Steve, tell your girl in there to stop flirting with a married man, and go bring me some fucking coffee."

The whole room turned to look at you. Jensen was still sitting in the recording room with a guitar in his lap, giving you a cold stare through the thick glass. The comment stung. You weren't his damn maid, and you weren't flirting with a married man. Steve gave you an apologetic look. You knew you had to play along. Jensen was paying them a lot of money. So if he wanted you to shine his shoes while he sang you had to do it.

"Right away Mr. Ackles," Steve said, giving you a look that screamed, “I'm sorry.” 

Jared was giving his friend a death glare that Jensen didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t care.

"I'm sorry Y/N, he's just been a little on edge lately. That's not normally Jensen," Jared apologizing for his friend as you stand to go get his coffee for him.

"It's fine," was all you can say. 

In truth though, you felt like he'd just ripped your heart out and stomped on it. Not to mention humiliated you in front of your boss and coworker.  You fought back tears as you poured his coffee and entered the recording room.

You handed him his coffee, not even looking at him. He snatched it out of your hand, not even looking at you or saying thank you. You thought you had a crush on this guy. Turns out he's an ass hole like every other celebrity and artist you'd ever meet. Just another cocky dick that thought his shit didn’t stink.

Watching him on Supernatural and Smallville had gotten you through some really hard times in your life. You would have never thought he’d have done anything like he just did to you. You always pictured him as such a nice, genuine guy. Man, were you ever wrong.

You made your way from the recording room to the front where you kept your purse under the counter and shot Steve a text that said you weren’t feeling good, and you had to go home. Which wasn’t totally a lie, because your heart was broken, and you couldn’t stop the wave of tears that were streaming down your face.

You didn’t know why that one man’s opinion had hurt so much. You didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you, but as you fell back through the doors of the apartment you felt like your heart was shattered into a thousand pieces.

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

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​

You and Me Tag List:

@idksupernatural​ 

@fuzzycloudsz 

@supernatural-bellawinchester​ 

@magssteenkamp​

@vicmc624​

[benkouji726]

Five times they behaved liked an old married couple and one time they really were

Written for MalexWeek 2020, Day 2. Fic Prompt: Trope Day.

Summary: They found their way back together.

The fic actually contains 2 tropes: 90% of “The Old Married Couple” and 10% of “Shipper on Deck” because I like cliches SO MUCH.

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

1. Bickering

They had been staring at each other across the booth in Crashdown for five minutes now.

Michael broke down first. “Looks like they all bail on us.”

Alex snorted. “Gee, what clued you in? Is it the fact that we’ve been sitting here for half an hour now and still no one showed up? Or the texts we JUST received from our so-called friends declaring they all have to ‘BAIL ON US’?” He even made the air quote gesture, the bastard.

So something crawled over someone’s ass and died today. “Really? Your are gonna be like this.”

Alex ignored him. Great.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked, and pathetically hoped Alex would say no. Because even a snappy Alex was still better than no Alex at all.

Alex answered his question with a question. Of course he did. “Do YOU want to leave?”

Michael shook his head, and decided to throw in some moment of truth. “Honestly? I think they set us up, because in the past two weeks I may or may not have whined many times to them about how much I missed you.”

Alex seemed oddly angered by that. “Well, you sure have a funny way of showing that. Because last time I checked, my phone number is still the same, and I go to the same bar and the same diner on a daily basis, safe to say I’m not the hardest person to find.”

Michael muttered something under his breath.

“What is that? I crack code, I don’t read lips.”

“I said I didn’t want to see you dating someone else!” Shit. That was a mistake.

Alex froze for a moment, then he said, slowly. “You mean you don’t want to see me dating after you and my best friend ended your relationship which lasted almost ONE YEAR right in front of me?”

Michael deflated. “OK. That’s fair. But I really missed you. Can’t we just like, be friends? We’re still friends, right?” He might sound a little too desperate, but he honestly didn’t care anymore.

“I don’t know, Michael”, shit, why did he always have this chill when Alex called his first name? It’s like Pavlovian reaction at this point. “How do we do it? Say ‘what’s up, bro’ every time we see each other?”

So he really was gonna be like that. Well, takes two to tango.

“Or we could, you know, discuss our mutual dislike of the disgusting eating habit of dipping the fries in the milk shake thing”, he pretended to think for a moment, “oh, sorry I forgot. It’s only MY dislike.”

Alex smiled at that. He took a fry, dipped it into his milkshake, threw it into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then said, still smiling sweetly, “Yet you screamed so loud that one time when I dipped your cock into the milkshake and licked it clean.”

Michael choked on his clean, fry-crumbs-free milkshake. “You are not playing fair.”

“And you’re surprised? I didn’t climb the military ladder so fast by being nice.” Alex smirked.

Michael smirked right back. “Yeah, you’re kind of a sore loser. You didn’t speak to me for two days when I beat you at Mario Kart”.

“That’s because you cheated!”

“How does one cheat at MARIO KART?”

“I don’t know! Maybe you used your Tele...” Alex stopped himself abruptly when their waitress appeared to ask them if they needed some refill.

They both declined and headed right back into their argument about who was the better gamer.

When Michael finally stood up to get their bills (they argued about who should pay the bills too, Michael won), it was already two hours later, and they both had a big smile on their faces.

Alex watched Michael go to the cashier, a little too intensely, so he didn’t notice the little old lady at first, she had to wave her hand in front of him to get his attention.

He turned to her, confused. “Uh, can I help you?”

She patted on his shoulder. “My husband and I were like this too”, she said, wistfully, “we used to bicker all the time, but our hearts were in the right place”, she looked at Michael’s direction and back to Alex, “you and your young man are gonna be just fine.” She patted him once more, and went away.

Huh.

——————————————

2. Finishing each other’s sentences

They were at the supermarket together when Alex said, “why...”

“Does Liz need so many eggs? Beats me. She said she needs them to do some kind of experiment, but I highly suspect it.”

“And why...”

“Did she send us to get these? According to her, we need the legwork and some fresh air because she said and I quote, you are talking in codes and I reek of oil at this point.”

“I’m...”

“Getting a little annoyed by me right now? You want me to stop finishing your sentences? Well, it’s not my fault you are this predictable.” He was asking for trouble, Michael knew. But he couldn’t help it. Alex and Forrest had broken up for a week now, and Alex still didn’t tell him, he had to be informed by Izzy, it was a little irritating.

Alex narrowed his eyes. “You think you know me so well.”

“Apparently I do.” He smiled innocently.

“You’re not that complex either, you know”, Alex stepped forward, right into his personal space, “I can read you like an open book.”

So it was game on.

For the next two weeks, they were trying their best to beat each other to the punch, finishing each other’s sentences, sometimes even saying things before the other could even open his mouth.

Kyle snapped at last.

“Would you PLEASE stop?” He groaned, “We get it. You’re dating now and you are stupidly in love and you know each other SO WELL. Just, get a room, OK? Other people are still trying to find their soulmates or something.”

“We are not...” They spoke at the same time.

“Great, you’re upgrading to saying things unanimously now?” Kyle threw his hand into the air. “I give up.”

They both blushed. Unanimously.

——————————————

3. Touching casually

They were both leaning onto the table to study some printed out files from another secret government agency that Alex found and hacked, Alex was writing out code patterns to determine which one fit the file, when Michael suddenly discovered something.

In a hurry to write down his thoughts, he didn’t try to get another pen. He reached out, grabbed Alex’s pen-holding hand, and wrote down a keyword. His head bowed beneath Alex’s chin, some of his curls brushed his face, so Alex used his free hand to brush it away, he lingered a moment there, as Michael finished writing the word but his hand stayed there, thumb gently rubbing Alex’s in a slow circle.

Then Alex pulled away, and they continued discussing the file.

Things escalated real fast after that.

At first it was just a hand on the back, a pat on the shoulder, that sort of things. But then they often stood near enough that their hips were touching, Michael sometimes threw his arm around Alex’s shoulder when they were laughing together, or Alex would play with Michael’s hair when they were sitting on the same side of the booth, listening to their friends or talking to them. It was nothing sexual, they were friends, friends stayed in each other’s personal space ALL THE TIME, right?

Then one day, they were having a group movie night. They decided to sit on the sofa, so naturally no one else wanted to sit on it. With that much room, they sat down, a foot or so between them.

Halfway through the movie though, Alex was rubbing his right knee. Michael took one glance at him, and immediately sat beside him. He lifted Alex’s right leg onto his left, and put his hand on Alex’s knee. Alex let out a moan.

The whole group was looking at them now. Alex blushed.

“I, his hand...” Alex took a breath and regained some control back, “you all know aliens run hot right? His hand is like a thermos, it’s good for my knee.”

“You know”, Liz began, “You don’t need to explain here. People do this all the time for their loved ones, it’s sweet.”

“But”, Isobel cut in, stopping whatever Alex was trying to say, “next time, don’t do it in front of us, maybe? If I hear my brother-in-law moan again when I die, it’ll still be too soon.”

“Guys, stop teasing them”, Max said, at which point Alex had already given up, “they’re not even dating”.

“Yeah”, Maria went in for the final blow, “because the old married couple don’t date anymore. You guys really should make more of an effort if you want to keep the sparks alive, you know?”

“You mean we should just ditch you all to enjoy our little world, just the two of us?” Alex crooked his head, playing along.

“Aww, honey, you’d do that for me, for us? I thought you said we should keep our friends company or they’d be too boring a bunch.” Michael added.

He never took his hand off Alex’s knee.

——————————————

4. Pet names

“Darlin’, I’m home!” Michael called out, as he entered their secret base.

Kyle looked up, confused. “Since when did you begin to use pet names for each other?”

Alex didn’t even spare Michael a glance. “I didn’t. He is just being a dick.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you wound me. And you’re such a pretty liar, considering you called me ‘Mikey’ just the other day.”

“Sarcastically, yes.” Alex rolled his eyes. “Now would you please cut the bullshit and come look at this?”

Michael fluttered his eyelashes: “For you, sweet cheeks? Of course.”

Kyle wanted to leave. He also wanted to die a little.

Then Alex turned his full attention to Michael, and said in an almost robotic voice. “Gee, you are so kind, my little teddy bear.”

Kyle was wrong. He didn’t want to die a little. He wanted to die A LOT.

Michael, on the other hand, smiled like a cat finally got the cream. “Don’t mention it, pumpkin.”

His eyes twinkling, his tone teasing. But there was also genuine softness and gentleness in his overall demeanor, like he was standing in front of the most precious person in his whole life, and he called his name.

Alex rolled his eyes again. But when he looked back down, there was a secret smile tugging at his lips.

——————————————

5. Couple’s therapy

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” How was this his life, Alex wanted to ask.

To his credit, Michael looked bashful for once. “I’ve been seeing this therapist for four months now. And she said we could use a couple’s therapy, so she gave me this Groupon. I thought it’d be great for us.”

Alex stared. “You do know we’re not actually a couple, right?”

Michael looked a bit hurt by that, but he recovered quickly, “We kinda are, though. We both haven’t seen any other people for about half a year now. We spend almost all of our free time together. We touch each other constantly. We talk about everything and anything. Everyone assumes we’re at least hooking up, some think we already eloped!”

“Friends also do that kind of things together. And other people’s opinions really don’t bother me”, Alex didn’t look at him while saying this, so there was still hope right?

At this point, any hope was worth fighting for.

“Yeah, except friends aren’t normally in love with each other.” He said, looking right into Alex’s eyes, daring him to deny it.

Alex hesitated, and resigned. “When is it?”

—————————————

Dr Brown already knew so much about him it was a little unsettling.

“Have you talked anything other than me during your sessions?” Alex couldn’t help to ask.

“Of course!” Michael sounded offended. Meanwhile Dr Brown said, calmly, “Very little.”

Michael threw a betrayed glare at her, but she just smiled.

“So, what do you want to know?” Alex was always direct, “fair warning though. I refuse to talk about my childhood, my parents, my family, my job, my gay struggles, or anything from my past, including my past with Michael.”

“That’s OK”, Dr Brown still smiled, not bothered at all. “I only have one question for you.”

“What’s that?”

“You walked in, already in combat mode, because you treat any foreign environment as a threat, not to mention this foreign environment might force you to open up which you only do when you are around a certain and small group of people. But then Michael walked in too, and your stance changed. You were still in combat mode, but you also put yourself in a protective position, slightly in front of him. Meanwhile, you relaxed noticeably as if you trusted him with all you’ve got. When you sat down, you leaned to him unconsciously, and every time he spoke or touched you, you were calmed and grounded.”

Alex’s voice was raw when he spoke. “That was not a question.”

“So my question is”, she continued, “why do you still deny it, when you’re clearly in love with each other and already in a steady relationship?”

Alex didn’t have an answer for that. He got up and left.

————————————

+1 “How is your headache”

He’d been avoiding Michael for three days now. He was miserable in all of the days.

He was debating whether he should quit being a coward and finally get what he wanted when there was a knock on his door.

He was not even a little surprised that it was Michael.

He was surprised by the flower though.

“What is this?”

Michael held out the flower, eyes pleading. “Wanna take you out for a date.”

“I haven’t slept well these past days, my head kinda hurts, going out is not something I want to do now,” Alex said, and rushed to say the next bit because Michael looked devastated, “But we could stay in, order some take out, and watch Star Wars together?”

Michael relaxed a fraction. “You mean rewatch Star Wars.”

“Yeah, well, I have this habit of falling in love with something and never managing to fall out of it, don’t I?”

Michael smiled, a little teary. “Guess we have that in common.”

——————————————

They ate, they talked, they watched Star Wars.

Then Michael was crowding Alex into the back of the couch, and asked tentatively: “how is your headache, honey?”

To that, Alex replied with a kiss.

[feral--dogboy]

hunter x hunter modern au

just wanted to put my ideas here!

it's basically an entire outline at this point but oh well

please don't use it :"D

Ging is a junior in college an accidentally hits it off with a woman

ex-girlfriend for spice

after they find out both decide to get back together

originally planned to raise Gon but 8 months in and their relationship was falling apart

both came into agreement of splitting after Gon was born

discussed abortion

Ging then decided to take Gon instead

he went on to his final year of college

he had take Gon to daycare while he was still in school

had almost no time to spend time with Gon

much less raise him

as the second year rolled around Ging ended dumping Gon in Kite for a while as he couldn't afford the daycare anymore

Kite was reluctant to care for Gon but did so anyway.

as the second year slowly came to a close Ging went on a trip and took Gon to Whale island

shortly after arriving he and Mito got into an argument

which lead to Gon crying and their great grandmother comforting him

only a couple weeks later Mito took it to court and won custody of Gon. still furious with Ging

the 2 of them had quite a lot of arguments. they disagreed on a lot of things

Ging had originally planned to stay 2 months but left 1 month early

Gon cried an entire week and it took a lot of time to comfort him each time

Gon started to speak once he reached the age of 4

spent the next 8 years thinking his father is dead

he did meet Kite when he was 8 but he was more interested in his stories of traveling then his father

his aunt wouldn't let him travel until he was an adult anyway

the Freecss family moved to the main land since Mito picked up a good paying job.

and her grandmother fell ill and couldn't get proper medicine and it was expensive on the mainland

Gon is now attending a public school and he's completely ecstatic about it. Whale island didn't have a school

Gon wanted to help his aunt with money as they were pretty poor. but Gon is only 12 and too young to work

MEETS KILLUA :D

they clicked pretty quick as the outcasts

hung outside on the benches for lunch

then a year later Killua introduces Nanika and Alluka to Gon

Nanika are supposedly twin sisters except Nanika was born deformed at the face

Nanika is autistic, smart and absolutely adorable and Killua and Alluka absolutely adore her

after a couple months Nanika would demand to hold Gon or Killua's hand or a piggyback ride

no one said no to her really but when they did Nanika was ok with it. she'd just end up gluing herself to Alluka

Killua swears his sisters can communicate with brain waves since they often stared at each other and then immediately knowing what to do after

during the times Killua's family refused to feed or care for Nanika and Alluka, Gon would always invite them over for dinnery

Mito loves both Alluka and Nanika. giving them the motherly love they don't have back at their home

Gon goes on short weekend trips with Kite once a month, growing a passion for travel and wildlife

Kite doesn't mention Ging at all

Gon doesn't really think about his absent father

2 years pass in the public schools. he and Killua just recently turned 14 being probably being one of youngest of their grade.

Killua complains about it sometimes

the two of them were getting ready for high school

Gon is starting to notice funny feelings for Killua in which he often asks his aunt about

but when the time came his aunt was too tired from work as she just picked up another job and stays out later

Gon ends up cooking dinner now

His great grandmothers health had recently got worse and she had to be hospitalized

Gon manages to get a work permit and gets a job without his aunts permission

he is completely dedicated to helping with the bills as he had a lot of time in the afternoon to work and enough to do homework after dinner

Mito doesn't like that Gon started working and there was an argument

Mito let him keep the job in the end

even though Gon worked right after school, he'd still invite Killua and his sisters for dinner

Killua ended up telling Gon that his parents threatened to harm his sisters for bad behavior

Mito mentioned that the girls were welcome to stay at their place until it simmered down at Killua's place

Gon great grandmother is finally able to leave the hospital after 6 months

Mito drops her second job to care for her

Kite and Gon get ready to do on another trip

but their trip was cut severely short as they got into a crazy bad car accident. someone was under the influence and slammed into the car at, at least 100mph

Kite and the other driver basically died at impact while Gon just barely survived. the car was flipped and his right arm was splintered with glass and twisted and shattered when the car flipped

the dashboard and foot compartment were smashed down and had broke his legs

he was lucky to be alive

Gon was pulled into a coma from the accident

Gon had to have his right arm amputated. the nerves were severed and was basically already tearing off

Mito and Killua didn't take the news well as it was on television in less than an hour

they visit the hospital constantly while Gon was in a coma and slowly recovering.

he stayed in a coma for almost an entire year but woke after 10 months

thankfully with memory intact

Gon found out his aunt was working overtime and skipped a few meals to get more hours in

he burst into tears when he found out. blaming himself for this whole issue

then weeks later he had found out Kite had died in the accident

blamed himself for that too

he went into a hidden episode of depression shortly after he left the hospital

he needed to undergo physical therapy for his legs

he started getting nightmares of the accident which soon turned to night terrors where his aunt would have to come in his room a couple times to calm him down.

Killua came over with Nanika and Alluka often as Gon hadn't gone back to school yet

Killua told Gon about Ikalgo, a new friend he made. then Leorio and Kurapika. Killua met them on the way to the hospital to see him and turns out they were pretty cool

Gon always listened to Killua but he looked distant every time

Killua suggested staying the night with Alluka and Nanika

Gon jumped at that with enthusiasm

it was this night the zoldyck's had found out about Gon's stubborn and consistent night terrors

in the end Alluka and Nanika slept in Gon's bed while Gon would lean against Killua

Killua would comfort him until they both fell asleep for the night

Welp! this is literally all the thoughts i had. i mean there would've been more killugon but that's easier to write then to put into notes.

[mmacabrera]

Who we are in our little place

summary: the struggles of a single recently-divorced mother and her little piece of light.

words: 1808

characters: m’ma cabrera, duckling fenton

n/a: Fluff Without Plot, M’ma’s name in Italian!DT87 is Gloria, this is a bonus scene of an upcoming chapter of a fic. this takes place after m’ma divorced, they moved out and she got her job as an officer.

“¡Mami!”

Gloria laughed, her son launching himself into her arms at the moment he saw it was her at the door, jumping high enough to wind his little arms around her neck. She tried to not grimace too much into the hug when her son pressed a little too hard into her right shoulder, she wanted to keep hugging him and not let go never for the rest of her life. She separated him just a little, enough to see his excited face. His smile made her heart soft and she felt secure and safe, a feeling she thought she had lost with the pain in her shoulder.

“I’m happy to see you too, pollito. But be careful, ok? I’m tired, bebé.”

Gloria’s heart deflated a little when she saw the change from excited to sheepish in Fenton’s face. “Sorry, mami. ¿Bendición?”

Gloria gave him a reassuring smile and kissed his little forehead, to remind him that he hadn’t do something wrong. “Dios te bendiga, mi vida,” she murmured, loving voice pouring out of her only for her son. Fenton beamed, giggling, and kissed her back into her cheek.

At the door, the one Fenton had opened so eagerly, was an old greyish-red guacamaya, her chubby and hunched frame familiar to Gloria now after some time knowing her. The old lady smiled like she always seemed to do, she seemed charmed by the unfolding scene in front of her. “See, Fenton? Told you your mamá would be here soon enough.”

“¡Si! You were right, abuela Claudia!” Fenton beamed, turning around to see the other woman without leaving his mother embrace. Gloria smiled at her before getting up, letting go of the hug to ruffle her son’s feathers.

Claudia returned her smiled and said to her like a secret. “He was heavy asleep on the sofa but when he heard the knock, he was almost flying to the door. I swear I don’t know from where he gets that energy.”

Gloria snorted immediately, amused by her son’s behavior. “Oh, yeah?” Fenton blushed and looked embarrassed, that just made Gloria even happier. She ruffled his feathers a little more. “Well, go collect your things, so you can go home to sleep in our bed, ¿si, pollito?”

Fenton jumped to the door. “¡Si, mami!” And ran into the apartment, leaving the two women outside.

The two women followed him with their eyes until he was out of their sight, disappearing into the living room. The old guacamaya stopped smiling at that moment and turned around to see her, worried expression set on her face. She had said nothing yet but Gloria was already feeling guilty.

“Gloria, it’s 1 a.m on a Saturday. You’re never late. Do you know how worried that boy was? How worried I was? What happened? Why are you six hours late, mija?”

Gloria didn’t know how to say the whole truth, so she went with half of it. “I’m really sorry, Claudia. There was a lot of paperwork and I-.”

The old lady shouted, interrupting her with a frown. “I may be old and my sighting may be bad, mija, but I saw how you frowned when Fenton touched your shoulder. You looked in a lot of pain, you were lucky that nene wasn’t looking at your face.” Gloria looked down, embarrassed to be caught in the lie. Claudia sighed. “Well? That seems like a nasty injury, mind telling me how it got there, mija?”

Gloria grimaced, instinctively touching with caution her injured shoulder, recounting the events of the afternoon in her head.

It had been a stress-free day at the station, pure paperwork, a lot of it actually, but she was content with it. Until, of course, her boss asked her to accompany two of her superiors to some exclusive casino for really rich people. They had been a lot of suspicions of a specific client cheating that had arrived some days ago to the casino, they won too many times and the owner of the place was tired of it and wanted a stop to it, it was because he was making less money of course, not because he was worried about moral matters. Gloria accepted the job, since her boss wanted her specifically and because accepting could lead to a promotion. More experience on the field meant promotions and a bigger wage usually. Her partner winked at her and one of her friends in the station had wished her good luck.

When they arrived and did the interviews, she had expected resistance from some animals, she had expected commotion from the clients, maybe a fist fight with a difficult suspect. What she hadn’t expected was ending in an exchange of shots with the principal suspect. She hadn’t expected that the “lucky” client at the casino was a woman with sharp thinking and quick reflexes either.

She just wasn’t expecting to run again into…Goldie. Not after what happened some months ago.

She hadn’t expected her to fire either when the simple questions ended in those unfortunate circumstances. Her hand pressed her shoulder a little at the memory of the blonde duck firing the gun at her. Pain flared and her hand went down at her side.

It was the first time she had been shot. Not the first time confronting the possibility though. She had been trained to expect it at some point in her job, she had been trained to even avoid it when possible but for it to actually happen was a completely different matter.

First of all, it hurt like hell.

Second of all, the grip of death was pretty hard to forget, more than people realized.

Third of all, it was great to know that the station was the one that was going to pay for that medic bill and for the emergency surgery and not her. She almost finally died just thinking about the horrible bill she was going to face later.

It was almost funny how in the way to the hospital, even when she should have been worrying about how her shoulder was losing so much blood and how much it hurt, she just couldn’t stop thinking about her son. Too worried about him to really acknowledge when she was moved to finally do an emergency surgery or when the nurse gave her anesthesia and told her that everything was going to be okay. Total blackout, her son waiting for her the last thought on her mind. Next thing she knew, she was patched up and the doctor was telling her she needed to stop using her right arm for some months, she needed to check with him regularly too, and when that finished, she could start therapy for her arm. Oh, and she needed to go tomorrow with a therapist for the shooting, too.

She really, really didn’t want to worry Claudia nor her son with all that. “Hard day at work, Claudia. Please just let it be.”

The old red guacamaya sighed, looking at her with uneasiness. “Gloria, hija, please.”

Gloria looked at the side, indecisive. In the end, she sighed in defeat and told a simple truth. “I received a shot in the shoulder. Almost clean but it grazed the bone and it chipped it a little. Needed an emergency surgery. That’s why it took so long to come home.”

Gloria had not seen the old red guacamaya while saying that, so she came to halt when she saw the old guacamaya crying in front of her, she went to clean the tears off rapidly but Gloria had already seen it and the pang of guilt was already destroying her. “Oh, mi niña, you should be in the hospital, not here. I could take care of Fenton for the weekend and-.”

“No, you already do enough for me, Claudia. Especially with the other kids and… I could not ask you for more.” She said with resolution.

“At least you should let me go to your apartment to help. I could take care of the cooking and the cleaning until you can use your arm.”

Gloria denied again, this time with a soft smile. “Don’t worry.” She replied, her other arm moving freely to show her point, “my other arm is just fine. It can do double work, this only means I’m going to have extra strength in this one.”

Claudia laughed at the absurdity of Gloria’s statement. She smiled, glad to relax the old lady a little. “Ayayay, you are just too stubborn for your own good, mija.”

Gloria laughed. She went to say something but got delayed, seeing a sleepy and yawning Fenton walking to her, he was smiling but his eyes were half-lidded and he looked so tired. Fenton raised his little arms to her, an obvious request to be picked up, Gloria rolled her eyes and mumbled a “come here, baby” in spanish, lifting him up with her good arm. He put his head to her shoulder immediately and closed his eyes. Gloria kissed his cheek and caressed his head with her other hand. She looked at the old guacamaya again.

“Thanks, Claudia. I don’t know what I would do without you. Sorry if he caused any trouble. And for worrying you.”

The old red guacamaya scoffed, tiredly. “You are a strong Cuban woman, mija, like me. I know you will figure it out.” She winked at her. “And don’t worry, él es un amor. Said he was a good kid because otherwise, mamá would be sad. I don’t think that kid is capable of misbehaving now.”

Gloria smirked, proud of her Fenton, and insisted to Claudia. “Whatever favor you want, just tell me, okay?”

Claudia posed as she may be thinking “I do have one,” she said, smiling to her. Gloria made sure to pay attention. “I’m really hoping you buy that house and you get out of this barrio, mija. You two deserved it. Bet your family would be so proud of you.”

Gloria thought about them for a second and a melancholic smile broke through her beak. “That’s what I’m hoping for. But I mean a real favor, Claudia.”

“Making this old bird happy would be the greatest favor, Gloria. I want you two happy.”

“Fine, fine. Huh, and you say I’m stubborn.” Claudia just laughed. Gloria went to move Fenton a little, trying to wake him up. “Hey, cielo. We’re going. What do we say to Doña Claudia, pollito?”

Fenton opened his eyes, really tired but he smiled full force even with the little energy he had left, he turned around to see the old guacamaya and mumbled with affection. “Gracias, abuela Claudia. Chao. Bendición.”

The old guacamaya laughed heartedly. Her old eyes twinkled with incredible fondness and she kissed Fenton like he was really her own grandchild. “De nada, mi cielo. Dios te bendiga. Have a good night, you two.”

and that’s all, i was actually discarding this of the actual fic asdfg (thats whhy she talking about goldie, dude, its from the follow up of my reincarnation au lmao) also wink wink at those who got the reference with Doña Claudia

[scapegrace74-blog]

Seventeen: Mandie (866-TOP-GRLZ)

A/N  You ever make a list?  A way to compile all the missed opportunities, the transgressions, the warning signs telling you that you’re on the wrong path?  Of course you have.  Part 13 in the series.  Part 1 and links to other parts are here. Rated NC-17. 

13.

He’d been visiting his father in Washington in 1969, and the driver took them through a bad part of town.  Even in daylight, the street corners and stoops were populated by women the likes of which he’d never seen before.  Garnished in go-go boots, flimsy lace and kohl, he wondered aloud if they were going to a costume party.

Bill Mulder chuckled.  “Those are whores, son.”

“What’s a whore?”

“A prostitute.  Men pay these women to... please them.”

He’d stared then, wide-eyed, at these women who sold pleasure to the wise and powerful, like his father.  Maybe this was what kept him away from home.  It would certainly explain the frosty unpleasantness of his parents’ marriage.

As though guessing his thoughts, his father clarified, “Not us, son.  The Mulder men don’t debase themselves by paying for sex.”

***

He thought of that long-ago conversation as he sat in the gloaming of his apartment, a telephone number on a worn scrap of paper lying on the coffee table before him.  His professional duty was to uphold the law, and his personal inclination was to protect the vulnerable.   AIDS was rampant in DC’s sex work industry.  And if he wanted to get laid, he could wander into any bar or club of his choosing, and likely find someone willing to go home with him.

So why was he considering calling an escort service?

After Jade’s death and Diana’s departure, he’d sat himself down and performed a thorough self-analysis.  His conclusion: his track record with women sucked.  From the first, he’d stumbled into one relationship after another, pinballing off heartbreak and into empty sexual gratification.  He’d assumed that with time, he’d meet someone who offered some tenuous foothold on middle ground, but that hope withered and died with each passing year.  

His life didn’t invite stability, and he was tired of feeling guilty that he didn’t love the way the greeting card companies said he should.  Love was like a mirror, he’d told Elizabeth once, and every one of his attempts at it had shown him something ugly inside himself that no-one else deserved to see.

But his body still ached to be touched.  Restful sleep had always been elusive, and the mental stimulation of the X-Files often saw him still awake at dawn, researching and piecing together tenuous strings of conjecture, certain that the answer to his sister’s abduction lay hiding in the deep well of arcane mysteries into which he’d inadvertently fallen.  Physical release was one of the few things that calmed his mind and allowed him to slip temporarily into oblivion.

And there was something else.  Something so dark and disgusting that his thoughts sheered away from it every time it crept out from under his strict regulation.  But if was going to court degradation by paying for sex, why not open that portal and find out, once and for all, where the filthy rot inside him resided?  A hooker in Washington DC would be well-used to taking those kind of secrets with her to the grave.

***

He waited on hold, a synthesized version of Must Have Been Love causing him to smile grimly.  A musical prescription for the lovelorn.  Finally a surprisingly matter-of-fact female voice picked up.

“Welcome to Top Girls, Washington DC’s premiere companionship service. My name is Elisa Covington. How may I assist you today?”

His hand shook.  His heart pounded heavy in his throat.  Hang up, Fox.  Some things are better off not known.   Just hang the fuck up.

“Hello?  Is anyone there?”

His fish tank gurgled, the last of Jade’s mollies swimming aimlessly in circles under the false sun of its bulb.  It was Friday evening - another sixty hours before he spoke to anyone not expecting a gratuity.  Fuck it.

“Yes, hello.  Sorry.  I was... I’m calling about a... date.”

***

It was a surprisingly business-like transaction.  He answered a series of questions about his preferences: height, build, hair colour, manner of dress.  Then the service took his credit card information.  Two hundred dollars for an hour, which included the cost of the hotel room and a recent clean blood test.  He’d be charged, whether he showed up and got off or not.  He’d wear a condom, provided by the service.  Saturday evening at seven, at the Marriott just south of Capitol Hill.   Room 1013.

***

He wiped his sweaty palms down the front of his jeans, inhaled deeply through his nose, and knocked.  The door opened into a dimly lit and innocuous hotel room and he stepped inside.

The agency had done better than he’d dare dream: she was about 5′8, slim and athletic with shoulder-length dark brown hair that fell in loose waves.  Instead of the stereotypical spandex and mesh, she was dressed as he was, in jeans and a loose-fitting top.  She extended her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fox.  My name is Mandie.  Thanks for being punctual.”  She had a nice voice; melodic, with no hint of a regional accent.  Her hands were clean and unadorned.  A perfect blank canvas on which to paint one’s desires.

“Well, it’s my dime, whether I’m here or not, right?   And please call me Mulder.”

She laughed lightly and sat casually on the dark green loveseat that faced out the window towards the glowing lights of the Capitol building.  He glanced at the bed, then joined her, keeping a prim distance between them.

“I gather this is your first time with my agency.  I like to start with a few questions, if that’s alright.  But first, can I get you something to drink?”

It was his turn to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I feel like I’m here to buy life insurance, not to...” he tapered off, not wanting to be vulgar.

“Not to fuck me?  Well, in either situation, you’re my customer, and your satisfaction is based on how well I give you what you need.  Which may not be the same thing as what you think you want, by the way.”

“That’s a pretty progressive approach, Mandie, but I see your point.  So, what would you like to know?”  He found himself relaxing a bit, shoulders sinking back into the upholstery.

“Tell me a bit about your previous lovers.  What about your previous sexual experience have you enjoyed, and what hasn’t worked for you?”

“So I’m paying two hundred dollars an hour to talk to you about my past?  Some of the best therapists in town don’t bill that high.”

“I hate to break it to you, Mulder, but no-one hires an escort to fuck her for sixty minutes straight.  Given how tightly you’re wound, I give you ten minutes, tops.  So either we talk beforehand, or we talk afterwards.  But if we talk beforehand, I can try to make them the best ten minutes of your week.  Think of it as fornication with a side of therapy.”

He shook his head, bemused.  “Fair enough.”

He didn’t feel comfortable spilling his guts or naming names, but he closed his eyes, remembering aloud some of his past encounters: the thrill of discovery with Nicole, in another hotel room, a million miles away; the unbridled kinky sex with Ava in a damp English garden; the unexpected discovery that he liked it when Diana took control and made him submit.   

As he spoke, his cock tingled and hardened, pressing against the seam of his jeans.  A warm hand that wasn’t his own covered its prominent ridge, rubbing languidly as moist breath painted his neck.  He opened his eyes to see Mandie’s dilated pupils hovering nearby.

“Enough talking?” he asked hoarsely, as she started to unpop the buttons of his fly.

“Yes, I think I have enough information to work with.  Now stand up.”

He obliged, feeling light-headed as she knelt and slid his pants down to his ankles.  Free of his clothing, he was stepping towards the bed when she halted him with a hand over his hip.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Bed’s over there.”

“You don’t want me to fuck you on that bed.  Beds are for comfort.  For peace and solace and permanence.  You want me to fuck you right here, on this couch.  This might be your first time paying for it, but for you, sex has always been a transaction, and you’ve never felt like you could afford to pay the price.  Put on that condom - I’m about to show you just how good it can be when your debt is cleared.”

And that was how, on an otherwise normal Saturday night in 1992, Fox Mulder spent his first two hundred dollars on therapy, with a side of ejaculation.

***

“You’re distracted tonight,” Mandie observed.  He was leaning against the cheap veneer of another hotel headboard.  His cock extended half-erect from the fly of his underwear and she was absently painting filigree patterns on its loose sheath with her tongue.

“Yeah.  I just flew back from Iowa today, and I guess my mind is still on the case.”

“You seem to travel a lot for work.  It must get lonely, always being the stranger from out of town.”

“I’ve actually got a partner now.  So she and I are lonely strangers together.”

“She, huh?   Have you two ever....?” she looked up at him with a cheeky smile.

He laughed at the thought.  “No.  No way.   That would be disastrous.   Don’t shit where you live, a friend once told me.   And she’s way too...” he stalled, trying to think of the right word to describe what kept Scully on one side of an impenetrable wall, and his fucked up sex life on the other.

“Too ugly?” Mandie guessed, before bending her head to nip and suck on his ball sack through the thin cotton of his briefs.

“No.  Not ugly,” he gasped, rising to fullness under her expert touch.  “Just not for me.   Jesus, Mandie, that feels amazing.  Keep doing that.”

***

“In quarantine?  I’ve heard a lot of excuses for breaking a date in my day, but that’s a first.”  He’d missed their last three appointments, and he was quivering with need, shaking and pulsing with want.

“It’s true.  We were released just yesterday.”  He was already peeling his clothes away like molted skin, breath loud in the close confines of the hotel room.

“Your partner was quarantined too?  Oh, that must have been fun.”

“Mandie, with all due respect, shut up and get naked.  I’m starving for it.”

The beauty of their association was that he didn’t have to think about whether he was offending her or whether she needed something from him that he wasn’t able to provide.   As long as his credit card didn’t decline, he was living up to his end of their bargain.

She eyed his erection, taut against the tender skin of his abdomen.  “Yes, I can see what you mean.  What are you hungry for, Mulder?  Do you want to pretend I’m her?”

“Her?”  For a breathless instant, he thought she meant Samantha.  But he’d never mentioned his sister to Mandie, and he realized in that moment that the wires in his brain were so tangled that even the best therapy wouldn’t make a difference.  He was broken.  Hopelessly and fundamentally broken.

“Your partner.  What’s her name?”

He shook his head, thoroughly confused and softening, despite the proximity of Mandie’s naked body.

“No, I don’t want to pretend I’m fucking my partner.  But there is something you can do for me,” he said, positioning her to bend over and clutch the back of the couch, her dark hair obscuring her face.

“Anything,” she gasped as he slid into the hot crucible of her body, where he put his secrets for safe-keeping.  “You know you can ask me for anything.”

“Call me Fox.”

***

“Yes, hello Mr. Mulder.   This is Elisa Covington.   We haven’t heard from you for some time, and understand that you may be out of the country.  As I’m sure you understand, we cannot guarantee your usual appointment without a certain amount of... regularity to your visits.  We’ll be closing your file.  Rest assured that all your personal and credit information will remain encrypted and secure.  Please do not hesitate to contact us, if we can be of service to you again in the future.  Beep.”

“Mulder, I need your helllllllp.... Beep.”

Go to Seventeen: Kristen. 

[mcrjacketslut]

Times Change Jason Todd x Reader

Request by Anon: Can I get an angst, since u said in ur bio that ur the angst king, of Dick or Jason's s/o in a coma n when the s/o wakes up, years already passed and Dick or Jason is with someone else? U can make the s/o evil or something idk I just want angst please I was sent here by Artza btw nice to meet u.

A/N: It is nice to meet you, Anon! Name's Gerard, but you can call me G. Ask for the Angst, and you shall receive the Angst, my new friend. Also, I am in a very depressing mood as I write this at 3 in the morning, so you'll get so much angst.

Warning: Angst. (If you didn't really know my name is Angst King.)

Two years. It's been two years since your accident to get into a coma. The doctors thought you weren't going to make it off the operation table. After all, you weren't even supposed to follow your boyfriend at the time, Jason Todd, on one of his missions. But it is what it is for you to get caught up in a huge fight with guns, and other deadly weapons in the mix.

When you finally woke up, you weren't surprised when the doctor's told you that it was a miracle for someone your age to even survive that long from the injuries you got. All of this is good and all, but that's not what you cared about. All you really cared about was your boyfriend. How was he? Did he even visit? Did he move on with his life? Is he better off knowing that you weren't there to get hurt anymore? The questions surface in your mind and continue to grow with the fact that Jason just up and left you without any explanation into why he left.

But you didn't know the answers. That was the scary fact of your brain making up scenarios to rile you up. And that's not how you want to catch up with him after two years. After the intense physical therapy, and a clean bill of health from the doc himself. Which wasn't so pleasant when he kept on persisting that you stay here for your physical therapy, and not to leave till you can walk, eat, and lift up things by yourself. And all that wasn't fun. At all. All you wanted to do is find Jason. To be in his arms again.

It took a long 7 months to finally get the strength to function properly without any assistance from anybody in the hospital. But you were ready to finally get out, and look for him. It's funny how no one STILL went out to visit you. Did the doctor even call your emergency contact to tell the others that you were out of your coma? Or did you even have an emergency contact in the first place?

"Umm. Excuse me, Doctor Strauss? But how did I get here in the first place? Cause I didn't have any visitors or have anybody show up durin' my physical therapy..."

The doctor looked at you with a concerned look and sighed deeply, not wanting to be the one to actually answer the question. "You were just brought here as a Jane/John Doe on a gurney, rushed to the ER from your head trauma... That's all we knew... We didn't even know your name till you woke up and told us... I am so sorry, (Y/N)..."

Those words hit you like an oncoming train. Jason Todd. The love of your life. Your Soul Mate. Your other half. Just dump you there, and left you alone. For almost THREE YEARS. What was he thinking? Did he really give you up that easily after the incident? Why would he do that? Anger bubbled up inside of you, your knuckles turning white from your fists being balled up so tightly in anger.

"I can't believe he forgot 'bout me... He... Forgot 'bout me... After he even told me that HE didn't want to be forgotten... I fuckin' can't believe it!" In anger, you threw your fist, hitting the first thing that came into contact with your fist, and that being the white wall of the hospital. Doctor Strauss grabs your wrist to prevent you from hurting yourself again.

"(Y/N)! Stop! You'll break your bones!"

"I don't care! He left me! He left me for almost THREE FUCKIN' YEARS!" You yank your arm out of his grasp, growling in anger.

"Look, hurtin' yourself won't do anything to help you in this situation. You're better off goin' to the source, and tellin' him how you feel. He's got to have an explanation of why he did what he did. Ok? There's no need for you to hurt yourself over this, (Y/N)..."

You calm down a little bit to take in what the doctor is telling you. After all, he IS a doctor, and he knows what's good for you. Right? Right. You nod at his words and went back to your room to gather your things, heading out to get your life back together. But first, you need a place to stay at, and a shower. A warm shower sounds like Heaven to you right now.

Ironically your old place was still livable, and not taken by anybody else. So, that's a plus side for you. You immediately go to the bathroom, strip your clothes off, and hopped into the shower to get cleaned off.  You deserved this warm shower and a hot meal after the bullshit you've been through. To think things through; how you're going to confront Jason with all this information. Thinking carefully about what you'll say, and how to say it all; after all, you really don't want to start yelling at him yet until you get his undivided attention. That's when you came up with the perfect plan to do it all. It'll take patience and willpower to not strangle him with your bare hands, but it'll be worth it all when the moment finally comes.

It took seven months to carefully plan out what you're going to do to confront him; and out of those seven months of collecting yourself mentally, you found out the worst thing he's ever done to you other than leaving you at a hospital: he got himself a girlfriend. She's a beautiful catch; brunette hair, bubblegum smile, warm brown eyes, petite, and a sweet personality. Her name's Patricia from Gotham, and she works at the supermarket in the day, and a stripper/pole dancer at night. Funny how things go with him... And it'll all come back to bite him in the ass. How karma works is amazing, when you take it into your own hands.

You know that he'll be on a mission tonight without her, so it's a perfect time to talk to him. You grabbed your mask, and put on your customized uniform, looking at the mirror to see your work, and smiled in approval, leaving the apartment out into the darkness of the city. The wait for Red Hood will be so worth it when you run into him, but as a different person instead of the lover he left at the hospital.

It didn't take long for you to find the Red Hood on the rooftops by his favourite gargoyle. You remembered the talk you had with him when he told you that it was his only best friend before he met you. Such a sweet memory to have. But that's in the past, and the past is seeking revenge for his pain. Carefully, you quickly ran to the rooftop, making sure to not make a sound with your footsteps as you got closer to him. He looked so calm, looking out at the city lights, not having a care in the world. You got closer to him, hearing his calm breathing, not even being in the sense of the outside world; caught up in his own little world and thoughts of the mind of Jason Peter Todd.

Needle ready, you ghosted your way closer to Jason, and quickly jammed the needle into his exposed neck as you covered his mouth to muffle his screams, pushing the plunger down on the needle, felling his body wriggle to get free then stops, telling you he's out cold.

"Goodnight, Jason Todd..."

Then his world went black, as his body limps in your arms. Now to move his heavy ass to a secluded place. Should've thought about that before you knocked him out. Forgot that he's a deadweight of 220 pounds of pure muscle. Even Dick Grayson had a hard time picking up his body at one point in the past. But it's gotta be done before he wakes up, which won't be long. Gathering your strength, you grabbed Jason's underarms and steadily picked him up, being careful to not break your back with his heavyweight.

He starts to wake up when you finally found an empty warehouse in the cliche part of town. You really didn't want to be in here, but you didn't have enough time to actually find anything better than this. The drugs start to wear off, and you can hear him groan as he tries to wake up. Thank god you know how to tie a tight knot, you are the Knot Master after all, as Jason `has always told you when you'd tie up on of his villains for him to interrogate.

You had taken off his helmet to slap on a heavy strip of duct tape on his mouth and around his neck so he wouldn't yell out. Seeing him now fully awake, thrashing around on the ground against the pole he's tied up to. This asshole did not deserve a chair to sit in in the first place. He finally calms down looking around the dark area he found himself in. Yelling through the tape, only to get muffled yells.

"Finally you're awake... How does it feel to be alone and isolated after wakin' up from a long slumber?" Your voice echoed throughout the empty warehouse, making Jason look everywhere for the source of the voice. Watching him looking around for a way out and a plan to not get killed is one of the things out of this whole ordeal you want to see him do. For him to feel like he couldn't do anything about it to make it better. Welp, you better get this show on the road. You walked to him, your mask still on your face to conceal your identity.

"Doesn't ring a bell, Jason Todd? After all, we were together till the accident... Then you left me..." Your voice laced with anger as you walked towards him, stopping right in front of him. It was the moment to finally hurt him, to make him pay for what he did to you three years ago. He wasn't going to get away with it any longer. You grabbed a bat from the far wall beside him, running it over his body, making him stay still, and ripped off the tape from his face, earning a yell from him as the essence of the tape leaves his face redden from the harsh pull.

"Son of a bitch! What do you want?! Who the Hell are you??"

His questions meant nothing to you, as you swung the bat, hitting his face with a hard "THWAK!", causing him to yell out in pain, but put the point across to not speak if he doesn't want to get a concussion soon. You looked at him with a deadpan expression, watching the blood roll down his face from where you hit him.

"Do you 'member (Y/N)? (Y/F/N)? They sure 'member you..."

He paused for a moment, giving you a look of regret and heavy guilt. "(Y/N).... I... I am so s-"

You hit him again with the bat, making sure to knock out a few molars from his mouth of lies. "Don't you fuckin' lie to me! You just left me! You forgot 'bout me! You just left me to die! I trust you!" You rip off your mask, tears running down your face in anger. "I can't even stand to look at you! No visits! No calls! Nothin'! For three fuckin' years, Jason!"

"I am sorry that I left you, (Y/N)! But I couldn't take the guilt of you dying from that attack! After that damn goon hit you with that pipe over and over again, I thought you weren't goin' to make it! You were black and blue like Nightwing's suit, COVERED in bruises from that damn pipe! What were you even thinkin'? You KNOW not to follow me on missions! I TOLD you to stay inside, and not to follow me! But your dumbass had to follow me, and almost get killed! I don't care how much training you got at the gym or from Bruce himself! You weren't ready!"

Anger bubbled up inside of you again. That's the best he's got in an explanation? "You LEFT me on a damn gurney in the hospital! With no other contact to tell others where I was! Did anybody even ASK where I was? Did you even tell 'em what happened to me?" Tears stream down your face from the realization, "You... Did you tell the others that you broke up with me?... I..." You couldn't take it anymore, and you continued to hit him with the bat until his face was unrecognizable.

You dropped the bat, hearing a hollow thud on the concrete floor, and dropped to the ground on your knees. Emotionally tired, and not wanting to deal with it all anymore. Breathing hard as you look at a battered up Jason Todd. This was it. This was your moment to feel better for your revenge of him from three years ago. Why are you just full of guilt? Why? He deserved this, after all. Your suffering, your abandonment, your heartache.

Hours go by of just looking at the beaten up man who broke your heart. No talking. Just silence. He was afraid that you'll grab the bat again if he starts to talk again. The stubborn man you grew to love three years ago, is tied to a pole and beaten to a bloody pulp. And this wasn't you to even hurt him like this. Anger took over you to hurt him. This wasn't you. Not at all.

"Oh, my god. What am I doin'? This isn't me... Jay... I..." You looked at him with tears in your eyes. Not believing what you did to the love of your life. You start to reach out for him, till the anger came back to you. He left you, don't you remember? He left you to die on a gurney. No call. No visit. Nothing. And you're going to forgive for that? He deserved this. You've been alone and in pain with no love or support for three long years. How are you going to let that slip? No, you're not. Not at all. This won't be forgotten. You won't forget this. Your revenge hasn't been fulfilled yet.

You grabbed your mask from the ground, picked up the bat, and headed out of the warehouse, leaving Jason by himself. Alone like he left you. Hearing his screams for you to come back, and not to leave him as the heavy door creaks loudly from being shut. Leaving him alone in total darkness.

My first Angst story! I hope you guys enjoy! 

Tag: @dc-hoe @deidaradaifuku  @im-no-one-lol @cutekittybast @walwuss @confuse-teen-girl @nycterisarts

[ryik-the-writer]

Rumbelle Fic: Marinara on Main (6/?)

A03

Has it really been a year since I updated this? Damn I suck XD

-,-,-,-,-,-

The one week of mandatory recovery and therapy had to be the slowest and most boring time of Belle’s life.

Sure there were some interesting moments, like when Jefferson brought his daughter Grace over to paint her toenails (sparkly and messy but still appreciated) and she cried from being able to feel the tickling of the brush. Or when Will snuck a bag of plastic stars from the children’s ward and glued them to the ceiling above her bed. It was a much better site than the blasé roof, even if she did get a few curious looks from the nurses.

Merlin did his best to stop by between his breaks, but he helping Moe carry the business while she was out of commission. She swore if she ever came across a hefty inheritance from a distant mysterious relative, she’d sign it away to him. Well, maybe two thirds of it. Girl had to pay her bills after all.

Her most consistent visits were from her father, who had reluctantly come around to Belle temporarily moving in with Mr. Gold, and Mr. Gold himself.

Moe French would spend roughly an hour at Belle’s bedside, usually texting Merlin with status updates on the business or what things to pack up for Belle. It was quiet and Belle saw his eyes maybe twice, but it wasn’t as tense as it could have been and he always kissed her goodbye.

Mr. Gold’s visits were much more pleasant. He would roll into the room as soon as Moe left, carrying with him some kind of treat his right-hand man Dove would smuggle in to share. Sometimes, if his medicine didn’t have him too lightheaded, and if she wasn’t too exhausted from physical therapy, he’d read whatever magazines the waiting room had on hand. She particularly liked the cooking magazines.

“Okay, read the strawberry tart recipe again.” Belle requested, slowing jotting down the ingredients. She had begun to regain movement in her limbs on her second day, and with a little help from the nurses, she could sit up in bed. Walking was still a challenge, but Dr. Whale was lending her a walker to assist her until she was healed enough to walk on her own.

Mr. Gold chuckled at her enthusiasm, flipping the page back. “You do know I can just rip them out, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Belle gasped.

Mr. Gold shook his head in amusement. “1¼ cups of flour…”

Belle watched him in appreciation. He was able to open his black eye now, and most of his stitches had been removed. The only noticeable proof of last week’s catastrophe was the scabbed indention above his eye that would soon become a scar. Despite the horrible way he had received it, Belle couldn’t help but thing he’d look rather handsome with a few rustic scars.

A knock on the door cut Mr. Gold off from his reading. He and Belle turned to see Dr. Whale smiling at them.

“Yes?” Gold growled.

The doctor stiffened and flipped through his clipboard. “You and Miss French will be ready to check out this afternoon.”

“Bloody brilliant!” Mr. Gold exclaimed as he rolled closer to the doctor. “I’ll take the release forms now.”

“In a moment. I have to read you a few check-out policies, procedure you know.”

“Oh for the love of…” Mr. Gold held his tongue, not wanting to stress Belle or lose his temper in front of her.

“Could I at least start filling them out? I promise I won’t let him leave.” Belle negotiated, amused.

The doctor looked back and forth between the couple before sighing and handing Mr. Gold the forms.

“Please don’t make me lose my license.”

“I never make promises, only deals.” Mr. Gold replied, rolling backwards to Belle’s bedside. He was becoming too skilled in a wheelchair and needed to leave as soon as possible.

“Don’t be cruel, he’s only doing his job.” Belle chastised Mr. Gold as soon as the doctor left.

Gold leveled the clipboard and started filling out the papers with a mutter of irritation.

Belle only laughed. If she was going to be living with him for an unspecific amount of time, she’d have to get used to his bouts of playful pouting. It was amazing to think that they hadn’t been dating long at all, and unofficially moving in together would undoubtedly bring out some of their more unappealing traits.

Within the hour, Belle and Mr. Gold were being rolled out the hospital. Mr. Gold was swearing at the tight-lipped, stern nurse that he could “bloody well walk with his cane”.

“Hospital policy.” The nurse barked, all but dumping him in the drop-off zone. Mr. Gold jumped from the chair, growling as he steadied himself on his cane and limped to Belle’s side.

“The nerve.” He huffed, hiding a grin when Belle laughed into her hand.

“Are you sure you should be walking?” Belle inquired, nodding to his heavily bandaged leg underneath his expensive pants leg. Dr. Whale had insisted they dress comfortably until their injuries healed, yet Mr. Gold was dressed to the t’s in his nice clothes why Belle had swung for a gently worn sundress.

“I’m fine, really.” Mr. Gold assured, though he leaned more heavily on his cane. “I sprained it more than anything. None of the screws were bent in anyway. I won’t even need therapy.”

Belle nodded and looked down guiltily. She felt Gold tuck her hair back and kiss the edge of her ear, the effort causing him to shake.

“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

Belle smiled, picking up the hand resting on the back of the wheelchair and giving it kiss. “My hero. But, you really should sit down.”

Mr. Gold pulled his discarded wheelchair closer to Belle and sat down with a relieved grumble.

Conversation seized between them and in no time, they watched in surprise as Mr. Gold’s Cadillac pulled around the drop-off zone.

“How…” Belle gasped when it rolled in more closely. Other than the slightly discolored grill, it looked exactly as it had before the accident.

“Billy the mechanic owed me a favor.” Mr. Gold shrugged. “He did a lot better than I thought he would.”

Belle nodded as a tall man, presumably Dove, stepped from the driver’s seat. Belle had only seen him a few times during her deliveries but had never had the opportunity to speak to him more personally.

“Mr. Gold,” he nodded professionally, turning a light smile down to Belle. “Miss French.”

“Hello.” Belle smiled back, his tall height along with her wheelchair sitting causing her head to spin.

Mr. Gold stood from the chair and stepped over to the car, intending to be a gentleman and open the back door. However, he found the back seat occupied by none other than his son.

“Baelfire.” Gold greeted sternly. “Is there an early release day I forgot about or are you skipping school?”

“Let’s go with the first one.” Bae smirked as he slid from the back. “You look good for a guy who nearly got wrapped around a tree.”

“Not funny.” He growled, motioning him to stand aside so that Belle could slide in.

She took Gold’s hand as Dove released her into Gold’s grip. She felt stiff from the effort, but more embarrassed that it took three people to get her into a car. She hoped she could be more independent during her stay at Gold’s. She refused to be a burden to anyone, especially her somewhat-boyfriend and his son.

“I should probably sit in the back with Miss Belle.” Bae whispered. “Wouldn’t want you two to get too excited while you’re in recovery.”

Belle bit back a giggled while Mr. Gold’s face erupted in flame.

“One more crack like that and I’m going to un-overlook you playing hooky today.” He warned, not meeting Belle’s eyes as he crawled into the front seat.

The ride was quiet and slow, and Belle was thankful to see the outside world. Her stomach flopped a bit when they eased into the driveway of the salmon mansion. Before her and Mr. Gold’s relationship—or what any rational person would call it—began, she used to be so excited and giddy at the thought of a few stolen seconds with him. As soon as the pizza was out of her hands, they were just Belle and Mr. Gold, not pizza delivery girl and customer.

Now they were going to be temporary roommates, and while some women would see that scenario as an erotic fantasy come to life, Belle couldn’t help but feel sickeningly nervous.

“It feels strange pulling up without a pizza in my hands.” Belle smirked, hoping humor would lift her mood.

Luckily, Mr. Gold chuckled and sent her a gentle smile through the rearview mirror.

“Speaking of pizza, do you think we could still order one tonight?” Baelfire inquired. “It is Friday after all.”

A tense air filled the car, and Mr. Gold could see Belle’s nails digging into the leather seating. Belle’s father nor Merlin had told her what they were doing about deliveries, but judging by how stressed they both were (yes, Belle could tell no matter how much they tried to hide it), probably not very good.

“Miss French.”

Belle looked up to find Dove standing over her, offering his hand with a gentle smile.

Dove helped her sit on the edge of the seat while he grabbed her walker from the trunk. Belle felt so embarrassed to have to use it but noted to herself to count her blessings that she hadn’t been paralyzed in the crash. She’d only have to use it for a few weeks, and would be back to rolling pizza dough in a month, give or take. She hoped to move the process up a bit, hoped she could push herself to make a miraculous recovery.

“Mr. Knight dropped a bag off this morning.” Dove stated as he helped her get a grip on her walker.

“Yes, my father mentioned he would yesterday.” Belle said with a hiss.

Mr. Gold seethed as he tried to get out of the car by himself, his leg screaming in protest. It was time for more of his pain meds and that would mean an early night, the last thing he wanted with Belle’s first night in his home.

Baelfire stood beside his father and watched Dove escort Belle into the house, her bag in his opposite hand.

“What’s with the frown?” Baelfire smirked. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

Gold glared at his son. “Of course not. Don’t you have homework?”

“It’s Friday.” Bae reminded him as he swayed to the house. “And I’m ordering pizza.”

“Fine.” Gold agreed with a sigh. He was so tired he would probably sign over the deed to the house if Bae asked for it. “I’ll send Dove to pick it up.”

Bae turned, confused. “Why can’t we have it delivered?”

“Just…I don’t know about their delivery status right now.” Gold sighed as he limped into the house. “Just go with Dove, alright?”

Bae sighed, sensing that there was more to the story decided to push for details on an empty stomach. “Fine.”

Gold looked around the corner, nodding in approval at how the furniture had been moved. The room he had Belle set up in was more of a small parlor connected to the downstairs bathroom. He had been meaning to take out the wall that separated the room and the living room but was not glad he had put it off.

He stepped into the room to find down waiting by the bathroom door.

“She’s changing.” Dove stated simply.

Gold nodded. “I owe you a great debt for all you’ve done.”

Dove shrugged. “I’ll remember that the next time my nephew’s soccer team sells chocolate bars.”

Mr. Gold chuckled, his breath stilling when the bathroom door opened and Belle stepped out. She wore a loose pair of men’s pajamas, the little pocket on the shirt ripped in the middle. Her feet were bare and her hair mused, and she had forgone the walker to take on the short space.

She looked absolutely stunning.

“Comfortable?” he teased.

“My limbs feel like noodles. I feel great.” she laughed, using Dove’s offered hand to help her sit on the bed.

“Bae wanted to pick up pizza for dinner, is that okay with you?”

Belle smiled sheepishly, tucking her curls behind her ear. “I just took a pain pill…”

“Say no more.” Gold smiled.

“Sorry.”

“Not at all, I think I may follow suit.”

Belle nodded, the pill kicking in faster than she thought it would.

“I’ll…check on you later?” Gold suggested.

“I’d like that.” Belle said drowsily, carefully curling her legs onto the bed.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her until Dove closed the door.

“This is going to be an interesting few weeks.” Dove said, the teasing nature of his voice a earning him a glare from his employer.

“I’m going to take a pill.” Gold growled.

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-

When Belle opened her eyes again, it was dark outside and her head was swimming. She groggily felt on the nightstand for her phone. She blinked the itchy tears away until her eyes adjusted to the light. 2:11 a.m. Damn, she had slept the whole day!

Belle groaned, wishing she would fall right back to sleep. However, she was wide awake now, and her back was cramping. She needed to walk around, maybe get a snack from the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since her barely passable breakfast at the hospital.

Her muscles cramped as she sat up, her lungs feeling smaller. She took several deep breaths before she reached for her walker.

She did her best to enter the kitchen quietly, which was hard to do with a clunky walker loudly tapping on the hardwood. After some hassling she found the light switch and was immediately floored with awe at the site of Gold’s antique kitchen.

A large, stainless steel refrigerator purred near the back door while several cooking tools awaited silently to be used. Her kitchen apartment above French Bread could probably fit in this kitchen, and she bet all the eyes on the stove worked as well.

With renewed excitement she limped to the pantry and searched its contents. She hummed, noting a packet of yeast on the top. Gripping the walker with one hand, she stretched on her toes to reach the things she needed, hissing as her back cramped from the effort.

“Need a hand with that?”

Belle twisted around, grabbing her walker before she could fall.

Baelfire hissed. “Sorry.”

“No it’s fine.” Belle gasped, stepping aside. He was just about her height, maybe a few inches shorter than his father, but he reached the yeast packet with less effort than she had.

“Thanks.” Belle smiled. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Bae assured, leaning on the counter. “My sleep cycle’s been off this week with Dad in the hospital.”

Belle looked at the teen, his curly hair disrupted from restless sleep, the color under his eyes too dark for a boy his age.

“So whatcha making?” Bae inquired, smiling brightly despite the later hour.

“Don’t laugh, but I was going to make pizza. But if you want something else…”

“No, pizza sounds great. The one I ordered earlier was…I don’t know, bland?”

Belle chuckled. “Dad must have made the sauce. It’s his recipe but he never makes it right.”

Bae chuckled. “Is everything you guys make your dad’s creation?”

Belle shrugged as she scooped flour out of the properly labeled container on the counter. “Technically yes, but Merlin and I add our own flair to each thing we cook. The recipe’s always different each time, but there’s always a few ingredients that never change.” She said with a wink.

Bae nodded. “Anything I can do to help?”

Belle hummed. “Do you have a food processor?”

Bae nodded and opened one of the cabinets, pulling the processor out with ease.

“Great. Get out what you want on the pizza. Do we have enough cheese?”

Bae pulled a pile of things from the refrigerator, including a nearly empty bag of shredded mozzarella.

Belle surveyed what else he had brought out and nodded as she put a recipe together in her head.

“How fresh is that cream?”

Bae bravely opened the carton and smelled the dairy substance, sighing with relief when he didn’t smell anything sour.

“Great, find me a pan and some butter and we can make alfredo pizza.”

“Sweet!” Bae cheered, obeying Belle’s instructions.

Soon enough the teen was helping her chop chicken and kneed pizza dough, chuckling when she flicked flour in his curls.

“This is great.” Bae said as Belle sprinkled oregano on the pizza. “I’ve been living off diner food and cereal all week. I never though I’d miss home cooking so much.”

Belle paused in her pizza-making, her eyes looking over his lanky frame.

“Baelfire I’m…I’m sorry about all of this.”

Bae looked around the kitchen, confused. “The flour will come off the counters.”

Belle scoffed. “No, I mean for the accident. For borrowing your dad’s car. For his injury. Everything.”

Bae stared at her, unsure what he could say to make her feel better. Whenever he and Emma fought she would just punch him in the arm and everything would be fine afterwards. Hitting her, even playfully, did not look like a good idea in her condition.

“Really, Belle, it’s fine.” Bae assured awkwardly. “It’s not like you’re a crazy girlfriend who crashed my dad’s car to keep him to yourself.”

Belle laughed at the idea, turning to put the pizza in the oven.  

“I mean, I guess I was a little mad at first, but I got over it. My dad really likes you, and spending these last few weeks with you has made him happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. I’m sure there was no lost love being in the hospital with you, even if you were doped up half the time.”

Belle chuckled. “A third of the time, actually. Between you and me though, your dad’s a real lightweight.”

Bae snorted. “I bet. And while we’re dropping secrets, that bit about me living off of diner food was a white lie. Emma brought me some of her mom’s cooking to keep me going.”

“Ah, and I bet she made you dessert afterwards.” Belle teased.

Bae’s blush was as read as pizza sauce. “Well…”

“Unless you want to be grounded until you graduate, I suggest you not answer that.”

Belle and Baelfire both turned around to find Gold leaning against the doorframe, eyeing the messy countertops and his flour-dusted son with amusement.

“Bit late for a midnight snack, isn’t it?” he teased, limping in.

“More like too early.” Belle said. “It’s just after three.”

“Indeed. Smells good whatever it is.”

“Chicken alfredo pizza, enough for three.” Belle blushed as he took the seat beside her. This was the first time she had seen him wearing anything but a three-piece suit. It was almost an honor, seeing a piece of him that no one but his son had seen.

“Excellent.” he smiled, turning to his son, dusting some of the flour out of his hair. “Glad to see you’re taking up a trade, m’boy.”

“Yep,” Belle teased. “I’ll have him trained as a sous chef in no time.

Bae rolled his eyes as he went to check on the pizza. Adults were so weird.

In no time the pizza was sliced and passed around, conversation and napkins flowing easily. It was domestic if not unique scene considering the late hour. Unbeknownst to each participant, there was a mutual want to make the event—both the living arrangements and late-night pizza-making, mind you—much more permanent.

[breakmyreddieheart]

(Please Don’t) Say Anything - Ch2

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

++ Accompanying Playlist ++

Summary: It’s the last days of high school and the Losers are soon to be leaving for university, moving to different parts of the country. Richie is trying to figure out how to tell Eddie how he feels about him, but only ends up making things worse and needs to figure out how to apologize. Bev has a cunning plan, and Richie Tozier gets extra...

Setting: Derry, ME - the summer of 1995

Pairings: Reddie (main), Stenborough (on the side) also Bev is dating a girl and Ben and Mike are just wholesome individuals right now

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: references to neglect and mental illness

A/N: I’ve made a small amendment to Chapter One - removing the reference to Richie’s mother’s drinking; instead, stating Eddie’s assumption that his Father is hard on him. I was going to just go along with the ‘alchoholic mother’ thing everyone else seems to be doing, but I want to take the Tozier family in a different direction in this AU // Also I’ve actually sat and planned out the rest of the fic - we’ve got 6 chapters, and buckle up fuckers, it’s gonna be a wild ride!

----

The room was filled with jokes and laughter, but Eddie sat near the corner lost in thought.

Having grabbed an unfathomably large stack of pizzas from Julio’s Pizzeria, the Losers descended upon the Denborough residence to spend the evening celebrating together. Bill’s dad didn’t approve of underage drinking, but he made an exception on this occasion, buying a modest crate of beer for the group.

“What if we don’t like beer?” Ben had asked, being more partial to sneaking sips of the whiskey his mother kept hidden in the laundry closet.

“Beggers can’t be choosers, Benny-boy!” Richie laughed, patting him on the back and handing him an open bottle. “Now, let’s get shitfaced!” He yelled in a questionable Mancunian accent.

“Richie this beer is barely three percent” Stan quipped, “the only thing you’re getting on this is gassy.”

Richie cracked open another one and walked over to where Eddie was sat, gently wiggling the bottle at him. “How about you Eduardo?” 

“I’ll pass” Eddie mumbled, looking somewhat distracted. Riche paused, waiting to be berated for the nickname but Eddie remained silent and continued to stare blankly at the Cheers re-runs playing silently on the TV.

Richie wasn’t sure if he’d done something wrong, but he noticed Eddie had been acting funny since the end of School. Was it something he’d said? While he knew he pushed boundaries sometimes - heck, he outright smashed straight through them half the time - the thought that he might have genuinely offended Eddie left him with an uncomfortable ache in his chest.

As the evening went on, the stack of pizzas gradually shrank and the beers were all drunk. Eddie seemed to lighten up, joining in the conversation and laughing a bit, but he wouldn’t look at Richie despite his best efforts to make eye contact.

Richie excused himself to go for a smoke. “Coming Bev?” he said, looking at her pointedly. She took the hint and got right up, grabbing the last two slices of pizza on the way.

“You snooze, you lose!” she said melodically as Ben and Mike moaned in protest.

Bev caught up with Richie outside on the porch. He’d slumped himself down next to a plant pot which he was using as an ashtray.

“What’s up Tozier?” she asked casually, though he could tell there was concern in her voice.

Richie took a long drag of his cigarette, inhaling deeply and blowing the smoke down between his legs. He couldn’t put a finger on exactly what was bothering him, but all of his worries were starting to vibrate around his head; not in their usual fleeting manner, but so violently that he almost felt like one might punch clean through his skull and take out Beverly on the way.

“Why do I always seem to fuck everything up?” he asked, not looking up from the floor.

Beverly paused for a moment, lighting her menthol roll-up and taking a drag before sitting down cross-legged in front of Richie.

“Ok, therapy is in session. You’re on the clock” she said jokingly, prompting a side-smile from Richie.”Start from the beginning. What did you “fuck up” exactly? Does this have something to do with why Eddie looks like you crapped in his shoes?”

“I don’t know, Bev.” And he honestly didn’t. His mind was searching back over the last few hours, trying to figure out exactly which quip might have caused real offense. “I can’t stand this. I feel like I don’t have much time left with him, and now he’s pissed at me cause I can’t keep my damn mouth shut.”

Bev didn’t respond immediately, she simply sat and let him talk. She was good at listening like that; Richie knew he could tell her anything and she would quietly take in all the facts before giving her analysis. Nothing really phased her. He felt confident that should he ever kill someone, she would be the person he would call to help bury the body. No questions asked.

“He’s amazing you know?” Richie said, taking a bit of the now-cold pizza Bev handed him. “He was so worried about his exam today, but you just know he’s gonna pass with flying colours. Then he’s gonna be off to medical school and his illustrious career as a doctor and I’m just gonna be this person who he used to know. Richie Tozier: the one who never left Derry.”

"Have you still not sent your applications off?” Beverly asked, stubbing out the remains of her cigarette in the plant pot before pulling another from behind her ear.

“What’s the point?” Richie spat, flinging his hands out in a shrug, sending a piece of pepperoni flying onto the lawn. “Even if I get accepted how the fuck am I going to pay for it? You think my dad would actually help? I’m stuck here, Bev, and you’re all gonna leave and forget about me.” Bev could see he was holding back tears.

“That’s what loans and scholarships are for, Rich” Beverly said, shuffling round to sit next to Richie, letting him lean into her. “You are amazingly talented. And besides, fuck your dad. If I have to sell a kidney or rob a bank, we’re getting you through this one way or another. Can’t forget your annoying ass if you’re indebted to me forever.”

Richie smiled momentarily, before leaning his head on her shoulder. “What the fuck is my life, Bev?”

They sat in silence for a while watching the moths flutter around the porch light.

“How’s your mom doing?” Beverly asked, assuming that Richie’s last question was rhetorical. He let out another breath of smoke, sighing deeply in the process.

“She called the police on me yesterday,” he said soberly. “Saw me in the kitchen and thought I was robbing the place. It took me half an hour to convince the cops that I actually lived there.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Richie’s mother had been diagnosed with early-onset dementia back in February and it was progressing fast. It started with her forgetting to come to one of Richie’s shows, which she usually attended religiously. She was a proud mother and had practically raised Richie alone while his father was away on long business trips. But lately, she had been forgetting who he was entirely. He’d often come home and find her confused and angry, unaware of what time or what day it was.

His father had started working from home, but the stress of the situation was getting to him. He barely spoke to Richie, but when he did it felt like he wasn’t really there; it was as if he was a stranger in his own house. He couldn’t stand to see how bad his mother was getting, so he’d often escape and stay at Eddie’s. Eddie never questioned him too much, he was just there - a soothing presence that made Richie feel safe.

“Have you talked to Eddie about it?” Beverly inquired.

“He doesn’t need to know. No one does, I don’t need them pitying me Bev. I just want some of my life to feel normal, you know?”

“You should tell him, Richie,” she said looking directly at him; her piercing blue eyes lent a certain authority to her stare. “You know he adores you, right?”

“Shut up” he snapped, harsher than was intended. “I’m an inconvenience to him. He puts up with me.”

“That’s not what Bill told me...” she said with a flutter, prompting Richie to choke on his cigarette.

She and Bill were still close. They had dated for a while at the beginning of high school, but Beverly had come to realize that dating boys was not for her. They had ended it amicably enough, but Bill had taken it hard at the time. However, once she’d met Kim, who she was now dating, and Bill had started seeing Stan they began to bond again.

“Wait, what did Bill say?” Richie said hoarsely, stifling another cough.

“Just that Eddie had been talking about you a lot. Like, a lot.”

Richie paused, the thoughts in his head seemingly doubling in speed in reaction to this new information.

“I could tell him... but I don’t want to put that on him. I don’t want him to have to deal with all my bullshit.”

“Richard Tozier, you will be the death of me” Bev pressed one hand to her temple, massaging it in a circular motion. “Listen, you’re in love with him, right? Don’t deny it cause I know you’re full of shit.”

Richie stared at his feet, his silence affirmative.

“Well, would you rather have a superficial friendship based on lies, or do you want to actually talk to him about your feelings and, y’know, have an authentic relationship?” Richie cursed Beverly’s common sense, he couldn’t deny she had a point.

“Ok...” he muttered. “I’ll talk to him.” He felt his heart rate quicken at the thought. 

"What would you do without me, hey?” Bev teased, lightly punching him on the knee. “Now come on, let’s get back inside before Ben puts some god-awful chick flick on.”

Richie chuckled as Bev helped him up from the floor. His head was still spinning, but suddenly the idea of talking to Eddie about everything felt like the right thing to do.

His calm in the eye of the storm.

- End of Chapter 2 - 

A/N: Sorry for the soul-destroying Alzheimers twist. I made myself cry thinking about the implications. Hope you enjoyed this Richie and Bev bonding time! Let me know your thoughts :D

Taglist: @richietoaster | @vimra  | @wildcardtrip-blog | @starstruck-stargazing  | @noxatn

Send me a message if you want to be on the tag list for Chapter 3!

[carriejonesbooks]

So, I have to go to Book Expo America at the end of this week. If you are not some official publishing person you’re probably like, “What is Book Expo America?” It’s this big huge massive (insert another large-sounding adjective here) industry thing where there are:

1. Publishers 2. Authors 3. Book sellers 4. Publicists

And almost all of them are well dressed.

There is the issue! I am from Maine…. Okay, I live in Northern Maine. How northern? When people from Glamour Magazine came up here to do a photo shoot with Megan Kelley Hall and myself (for our Dear Bully anthology) they made us DRESS IN LL BEAN CLOTHES!!!!!

Yes, even Glamour knew that it is not glamorous up here.

Sigh.

Megan still looked good. Me? The hair stylist/make-up person kept complaining about my hair, and how my nose turned red in the cold, and I felt so badly for her because she was used to super models or My Little Pony (really – she was the stylist for My Little Pony) and then she got stuck with me.

Anyway, I was thinking about BEA and authors who are always beautiful and poised and funny and lovely. And I have decided I need to somehow magically channel these authors at BEA so I don’t look like a hick from Maine or like, you know, I’ve never actually interacted with other actual human beings before.

But pretty much everything in my wardrobe has paint stains on it, holes, or long white dog fur.

She always blames me. There are lint rollers out there for a reason. Geesh.

I basically come across as either an eccentric old-money professor or homeless.

You may think I have no reason to be panicky, but I’m going to repost what happened to me the last time I went to BEA, and maybe you’ll understand.

ONCE AGAIN FOR THOSE WHO MISSED IT BEFORE – HERE IS THE HORRIBLE INCIDENT OF ME AT BEA LAST TIME (Taken from the original blog post of horror): So, yep, I had my skirt fall off (YES! PAST MY KNEES!) when I got out of the taxi today!  Oh, Britney…oh Lindsey…oh Paris… I so feel your pain. Fortunately, there were no paparrazzi, just my cab driver (His eyes got really big) and a father with his eight-year-old son (WHO WILL NEVER BE THE SAME!). They were standing right there, waiting for the taxi. The little boy gasped! GASPED!!!! I have marred him for life.

I then realized I should not be let out of Maine.

So I started yanking my skirt up with my hand while trying to: a. Pay taxi driver guy b. not die c. juggle three massive bags full of ARCS d. not worry about that little boy’s therapy bills.

It was then that I realized that hotel security cameras probably totally caught the skirt fall action.

I thanked God (and pretty much every potential deity in existence) that I am not famous and therefore not worthy enough to have the skirt DISASTER image blasted all over the internet.

I then hid in the hotel room, vowing never to come out again.

So, yeah. I don’t want that to happen again.

If you would like to see me in unsuitable clothes, check out the Lerner Booth on Friday, June 1 from 11:30 to noon.  I’ll be there with a spy who was also a catcher. 🙂

  WRITING NEWS

Yep, it’s the part of the blog where I talk about my books and projects because I am a writer for a living, which means I need people to review and buy my books or at least spread the word about them.

I’m super good at public image and marketing for nonprofits but I have a much harder time with marketing myself.

So, please buy one of my books. 🙂 The links about them are all up there in the header on top of the page on my website carriejonesbooks.blog .  There are young adult series, middle grade fantasy series, stand-alones for young adults and even picture book biographies.

Time Stoppers

Flying

Moe Berg

Write! Submit! Support! Begins Again in July!

“It’s not easy to create a thriving writing career in the children’s industry, but what if you didn’t have to do it alone? Write. Submit. Support is a six-month program designed by author and Writing Barn Founder Bethany Hegedus. Classes are led by top creatives in the children’s industry field; they’ll give you the tips and tools you need to take both your manuscripts and your developing career to the next level. Think of it as an MFA in craft with a certificate in discovering (or recovering) your writer joy! – Writing Barn “

And more about the class I specifically teach? It is right here.

Here is what current students are saying:

Carrie is all strengths. Seriously. She’s compassionate, funny, zesty, zany, insightful, honest, nurturing, sharp, and…Wow, that’s a lot of adjectives. But really, I couldn’t praise Carrie enough as a mentor. I’ve long respected her writing, but being talented at something doesn’t automatically mean you will be a great mentor. Carrie just happens to be one of those rare cases of extreme talent and excellent coaching. Aside from the specific feedback she offers, she also writes letters in response to the process letter and analyses. These letters have been so impactful for me as I writer that I plan to print them and hang them up. Creepy? Maybe. But they are so inspiring. And that, in the most long-winded way possible, is how I would summarize Carrie as a mentor—inspiring.

Dogs Are Smarter Than People

And finally, the podcast DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE is still chugging along. Thanks to all of you who keep listening to our weirdness. We’re sorry we laugh so much… sort of.

Look, Mom! It’s a podcast.

Book Expo America is Coming and I have Nothing to Wear So, I have to go to Book Expo America at the end of this week. If you are not some official publishing person you’re probably like, “What is Book Expo America?” It’s this big huge massive (insert another large-sounding adjective here) industry thing where there are:

[zoemurph]

to have a friend, chapter 1: $20

on ao3

hey so if you've ever been told you shouldn't have two multichapter fics going at once you should listen to that advice. i'm just...really impatient. please don't expect consistent updates from me, these are longer chapters and i'm a college student

thank you to my friend family for encouraging this and by that i mean my god stop encouraging me i have a problem!! but also thank you for putting up with me sending fake dating au prompts for like 3 hours.

this first chapter is very much a rewrite of the show from the computer lab scene until the end of the scene in the principal's office. (im sorry but i had to get through this part before anything even mildly original could happen) therefore, it deals with anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, and a suicide attempt. please proceed with caution! i put a summary in the end notes if that's helpful to anyone!!

i hope you enjoy!!

Dear Evan Hansen:

It turns out, this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year. Because, why would it be?

Oh I know. Because there’s Zoe. And all my hope is pinned on Zoe. Who I don’t even know and who doesn’t know me. But maybe if I did, maybe if I could just talk to her, then maybe…maybe nothing would be different at all.

I wish that everything was different. I wish that I was a part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered, to anyone. I mean, face it: would anyone even notice if I disappeared tomorrow?

Sincerely, your best and most dearest friend—

Evan squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

It’s true that at the end of the day, all you’ve got left is yourself, so you should…like yourself. Or something. But calling himself his “best and most dearest friend” is…

Pathetic. It’s pathetic. It’s really sad and even if it is true, the fact still remains that his best friend hates him.

Evan rubs his temples. Thinking about this is just going to send him into a spiral of anxiety that will help exactly no one. Having a breakdown in the computer lab sounds like a horrible, yet fitting, way to finish his first day of senior year.

He signs off the letter with ‘me’, even though it makes his stomach twist, and sends it to the printer.

He just wants to be home and under a blanket and also maybe not existing.

“So…”

Evan freezes, eyes glued to the screen of his laptop. His heart is in his throat and he figures that there’s about an eighty percent chance that he dies right now. He risks a glance over his shoulder at Connor.

“What happened to your arm?” Connor asks, vaguely motioning in Evan’s direction.

Evan swallows and looks down at his cast. “Oh, I-I um…fell out of a tree. Actually.”  

Connor scoffs. “You fell out of a tree? That is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” He snorts and shakes his head. “Oh my god.”

Evan forces a laugh as his stomach churn. It is sad. Really sad. Sadder than anyone will ever know. “I know,” he says weakly.

Connor clears his throat and motions to Evan’s cast again. “No one’s signed your cast yet.”

Evan takes a shallow breath. He hasn’t figured out what to tell his mom about that yet. Maybe he’ll lie and say he lost the Sharpie, even though then she’ll ask if no one else had one. Maybe he can say that they weren’t writing on the cast but then if she tests it— Evan shakes his head. “N-no, I know.”

“I’ll sign it.”

Evan looks up with a start. “Oh! Um…” His mouth goes dry and his hands are definitely getting sweaty and he has no idea what to do with this information. “Y-you don’t have to.”

Connor glares at him and Evan tries not to wilt too much under his gaze. “Do you have a Sharpie?”  

Evan stares at him for a second before he fumbles with his bag. It takes him a second to find it, and in that time, he’s pretty sure Connor has successfully taken a year off his life with that glare. He holds the Sharpie out.

Connor clenches his jaw before taking it. He grabs Evan’s arm and pulls it closer, making Evan wince in pain. “Ow,” he hisses. This is exactly what his mom meant when she said he should ask people to sign his cast.

“Oh. Sorry,” Connor mutters. He scrawls his name across Evan’s cast in large, capitalized letters and then lets go of Evan’s arm.

“Oh.” Evan tries not to sound as disappointed as he is about how it looks, but he’s pretty sure he fails miserably. “Great. Thanks.” There’s probably no way of hiding Connor’s name. Jared is going to have a field day.

Connor hands Evan the Sharpie back. Evan moves to put it back in his bag, but frowns when he feels something stuck under the clip the cap. He looks down to see a folded twenty dollar bill tucked under the clip. He frowns and glances over to at Connor. “W-what?”

“Pretend to be my friend.”

Evan blinks. “I— what?”

“Pretend to be my friend,” Connor repeats, more forcefully this time.

Evan pulls the twenty out from under the clip. “Y-you’re—”

“Paying you to be my fucking friend?” Connor interrupts. “Yeah. I am.”

“But…why?”

Connor scowls. “It gets my mom off my back, now will you do it or are you giving my money back?”

“Twenty dollars to-to pretend to be your friend,” Evan says in disbelief, unfolding the bill. “That’s—”

“Per week.”

Evan almost drops the money. “What?!”

“Twenty bucks a week. Just as long as I need you to do this.” Connor crosses his arms. “I am literally offering you money you to pretend to be my friend now will you do it.”

Evan smiles weakly. “That’s…the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Oh my god.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You’re hilarious. What’s your answer.”

Evan swallows. This could go very badly. But money… He knows his mom keeps lying about how they’re doing financially. Medicine and therapy is expensive. College is worse. Evan doesn’t have a job. There isn’t too much of a choice here.

Twenty dollars is a dinner or two when his mom isn’t home.

Pretend to be friends with Connor Murphy, who yells at people and skips class to smoke and pushes people and threw a printer in the second grade, for twenty dollars a week.

Evan closes his hand around the bill and then stuffs it into his pocket.

“I-I’ll do it.”

Connor holds out his hand and for a second, Evan thinks he’s going to take back the money and yell at him for being so pathetic that he’ll fake friendship for a measly twenty dollars, but then Connor says, “Give me the Sharpie.”

Evan hands him the Sharpie and Connor grabs his good arm. As Connor writes on his skin, the first thing Evan thinks is ‘ink poisoning’. Which is really just ridiculous, but he’s on edge.

“There,” Connor says, letting go of Evan’s arm and capping the Sharpie. “You have my number. And if you give it to anyone else, I’ll kill you.” The way he says it is so casual that Evan feels like he should be more scared by the threat than he is.

“G-got it,” Evan stutters. He glances over the numbers, hoping Connor will leave now. He needs time to process.

“Also—”

Life is never what Evan wants it to be.

“—Is this yours? I found it on the printer.” Evan feels his entire body go cold. “‘Dear Evan Hansen.’ That’s your name, right?”

If Evan wasn’t absolutely panicking right now, there might’ve been something funny about the fact that Connor paid someone he didn’t even know the name of to be his friend.

But it’s not funny.

“Oh, t-that’s just a stupid— it’s a paper I had to write for a, um, assignment…” Evan tugs on his shirt, because if he doesn’t do something with his hands, he’s going to try and grab it from Connor and there’s no way that can end except bad.

“‘Because there’s Zoe’,” Connor reads. The world tilts drastically, and everything slides toward destruction. “Is this about my sister?”

“No! Not at all!” Evan says quickly. It’s like he’s desperately trying to fix a fatal wound with Hello Kitty bandages. He’s drowning in his own worst fears and his mind is working against him and he can’t get any more words out to explain this situation because there’s no way to make this any better.

“You wrote this because you knew that I would find it.”

“What?”

“You saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab, so you wrote this and printed it out, so that I would find that.”

Evan almost starts laughing out of panic and a feeling of ‘oh god that sounds like something I would think’, but he’s so overwhelmed with everything that he can only get out a strangled, “Why—”

“So I would—”

“—would I do that?”

“—read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister, and freak out, right?” Connor snaps. “And then you can tell everyone that I’m crazy, right?” he yells.

“No. Wait— I don’t even, what?”

“Fuck you,” Connor seethes. He stalks out of the room, the door to the computer lab slamming behind him.

He still has the letter.

“But I really, I need that back!” Evan shouts. “Please. Can you just— can you please give it back.” His voice goes quiet. There’s no way he’s getting that back.

He swallows hard as he turns back to his laptop. Looks like he’s printing out another copy, even though his mind is whirling all the ways this one could end in disaster too.

Evan makes his way over to the printer, legs shaking and knees wobbly as he waits for the page to print. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and locks his knees in an attempt to stop shaking and calm down even a fraction of a percent.

His fingers brush against the twenty dollar bill in his pocket.

It burns.

—«·»—

When Evan gets home, he scrubs his arm until his skin is red and irritated and Connor’s number has vanished.

Not that the numbers aren’t branded in his mind.

He writes them down on a sticky note and hides it deep within a book that he shoves to the back of his bookshelf. Doctor Sherman keeps telling him that if something is worrying him before bed, he should write it down so he doesn’t have to think about it as much. This is the first time Evan has tried.

He keeps thinking about Connor.

Connor isn’t in school the next day and Evan feels a strange sort of relief.

He isn’t in school the next day either. Evan tells himself that it’s probably a good thing. Maybe he can reach a point where this is all just a bad memory that he only remembers the vague feeling of.

He can’t convince himself.

Connor’s name is bold on his arm like a brand.

Evan tries to convince himself that it’s nothing when he gets called down to the principal’s office. No emergency of any kind. Maybe it’s something to do with paperwork. Maybe it’s actually a good thing, which seems a little far fetched, but it gets him through the hallways.

When he opens the door, the principal isn’t there. Just two people he doesn’t know, a man who turns to look at him with blank eyes and a woman who looks like she’s about to have a breakdown.

He swallows. “Good morning. Is Mr. Howard…?” he trails off as they give him confused looks. “I-I just— sorry, they said on the loudspeaker for me to go to the principal’s office…”

“Mr. Howard is, uh, he stepped outside,” the man explains.

“Oh.” Well that’s fine, Evan can just go find him then. Leave these two to the breakdown that he can see coming from the woman in almost slow motion because he’s been there before and he doesn’t want to be present—

“We wanted to speak with you in private,” the man says. Evan stares at him. “If you’d like to maybe…” He gestures to a chair.

Evan hesitates before he sits down. He frantically searches his mind, desperate to find some sort of memory of these two, to know if they have any connection to him at all whatsoever, if they’re supposed to be people he knows and remembers.

“We’re, uh…we’re Connor’s parents.”

“Oh.” Evan is back in the computer lab as Connor reads the letter, anxiety building and crushing him into pieces. This can’t be about that, Connor wouldn’t have told his parents about it, his parents wouldn’t come to school and call him out of class because of it, it doesn’t make sense it doesn’t make sense it doesn’t make—

The woman pulls a folded piece of paper out of her purse, holding it carefully.

Evan stares at it. There’s no way…

“Why don’t you go ahead, honey, and…?”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” the woman says, her voice trembling. It sounds like she’s about to burst into tears.  

Evan grips the arms of the chair.

“That’s not what I said, is it?” the man asks sharply.

The silence weighs down on Evan like an anchor. Or like his anxiety. Everything feels like anxiety, the air, the silence, the room…

Connor’s mother holds the paper out to Evan. “This is… Connor…he wants you to have this.” Her voice is shaking more now and Evan wants to be anywhere else.

Evan takes the paper. He wants to rip it up into shreds, set it on fire, and flush the ashes down the toilet.

“We didn’t,” the man starts, “we’d never heard your name before, Connor never…but then we saw… ‘Dear Evan Hansen’.”

Evan resists the urge to crumple the letter up in his hands. “He, um, he gave this to you?” he asks carefully. He still doesn’t understand. How could one pathetic letter bring the Murphys here?

“We didn’t know that you two were friends.”

Evan inhales sharply. “F-friends?”

“We didn’t think that Connor had any friends,” the man continues. “And then we see this note and it’s— this seems to suggest pretty clearly that you and Connor are, or at least for Connor, he thinks of you as…” He points to the letter, struggling through his words. “I mean, it’s right there. ‘Dear Evan Hansen’. It’s addressed to you. He wrote it to you.”

Oh. Oh no. Oh no. “You think this is— you think that Connor wrote this to me.”

The woman nods. “These are the words he wanted to share with you.”

“He wanted them to be his last words,” the man adds.

Whatever Evan wanted to say vanishes from his mind. “I-I’m sorry. What do you mean, last words?”

Connor’s parents exchange a glance.

Evan doesn’t need them to say it outloud. He already knows.

“Connor, uh, Connor tried to take his own life,” the man says slowly. “He’s in the hospital right now.”

“He…what?” Evan knows. He knows he knows he knows he knows but the words aren’t processing and everything is turning to static.

“This is all we found with him. He had it folded up in his pocket.” Evan scrambles for words, for anything that will stop this. “You can see that he’s… He probably wanted to explain it, why he tried to…” Evan shakes his head, but Connor’s father keeps going and Evan feels sick. “‘I wish that everything was different. I wish that I were part of something. I wish that what I said mattered to anyone.’”

“Please stop it, Larry,” Connor’s mother interrupts.

Evan wipes his palms on his pants. This is bad this is so bad. “But, that’s, this isn’t—” Those are his words. His. Connor never would’ve wanted— ”I’m sorry. Connor, um, Connor d-didn’t write this.”

“What does that mean?” Cynthia asks, voice on the edge of hysterical.

“Connor didn’t— he didn’t write this,” Evan stutters. He doesn’t know how much clearer he can get, but Connor — their son — tried to commit suicide and here he is telling them that what they think isn’t true because really, it would be just like Evan to become the villain in a story he didn’t even realize he was a part of.

“What does he mean?” Cynthia repeats, louder as she grabs her husband’s hand.

“He’s obviously in shock,” Larry says in such a matter-of-fact way that part of Evan almost believes him.

“N-no,” Evan protests. “I just, he didn’t—”

“It’s right here!” Cynthia points at the letter aggressively.

Evan can’t do this. He can’t breathe. “I-I’m sorry, but I should probably just— can I please go now?”

“If this isn’t— if Connor didn’t write this, then—”

“Cynthia,” Larry says sharply. “Please. Calm down.”

Evan grabs for his backpack. “I should go now.”

“But did he say anything to you?” Cynthia asks desperately. “Did you see anything—?”

“I really should go,” Evan interrupts. Because she’s grasping at straws and trying to understand and she can’t and won’t and he doesn’t want to be here for that.

“Cynthia, honey this is not the time.”

“This is all we have!” she wails. “Conor won’t tell us, he’ll never tell us!”

“Honey. Listen to me. Please.” Larry puts a hand over Cynthia’s. She pulls away and buries her face in her hands, sobbing.

Evan needs to leave.

“Cynthia.”

Evan holds out the letter, hand shaking. “You should just— you should take it. Please.” He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he keeps it. He doesn’t want to be near it anymore.

Cynthia looks up at him, cheeks tearstained and eyes overflowing, and gasps. “Larry, look!” She points to Evan’s arm. “His cast.”

Connor’s name.

Evan glances down at his cast. He’d forgotten, somehow, amidst all of this, he had forgotten— 

Twenty dollars.

For as long as Connor needed him to be his friend.

“His best and most dearest friend,” Cynthia recites.

The ground opens up and swallows Evan whole.

—«·»—

They try to get him to go to the hospital. Try to get him to visit Connor. He keeps shaking his head and tripping over his words.

He can’t.

He can’t be there and see Connor in a hospital bed and pretend. He can’t keep that up. He can’t keep this up.

He feels like he’s going to be sick.

Eventually Larry got it. “He’s processing,” he had said to Cynthia.

Cynthia grabbed Evan’s hand and said, “He should be out in a day or two. But you can visit him whenever you’re ready.” And she’d smiled.

And Evan had smiled back.

Because he’s a liar.

—«·»—

When Evan gets home, he tears apart his bookshelf until he finds the book he hid the sticky note in. He pulls it out of the book and stares at it, the numbers swimming before his eyes. He’s managed not to have a panic attack yet but— 

He puts the sticky note on the his laptop and finds the twenty he had stuffed in a drawer.

It’s just a bill. There are millions like it. It’s just a twenty dollar bill.

Evan swallows back bile.

He feels gross. Bad. Anxious (that’s not new). Uncomfortable.

He scratches his cast. If only this were off his arm. If only he hadn’t let Connor sign it. If only he hadn’t fallen out of that tree. If only he had.

If only he’d been higher.

His phone rings loudly from where it’s sitting on his bed and snaps him out of his trance. He doesn’t know how long he just stood there, staring at a bill, but he feels weirdly out of place now that he realizes he hasn’t moved for what was probably a strangely long period of time. Now he’s too aware of himself and his body.

It’s just a text from Jared, asking about something for class. Jared doesn’t text unless it’s related to schoolwork.

Evan puts the money down on his desk.

How the hell does he do this?

Evan doesn’t know what standard protocol for these types of things is, but he doesn’t really know what to do with himself when he sees Connor in the halls eight days later.

His first thought is ‘he’s back?’

His second thought is ‘oh no he’s back.’

Evan has been avoiding Zoe for eight days. He takes alternate routes when he sees her in the hallways, he doesn’t pass her locker if he can help it. They made eye contact once and he felt his insides shrivel up. He doesn’t know if her parents told her about the letter, he doesn’t know if they questioned Connor about it, he doesn’t know anything. He just doesn’t want to be a piece in some game that they’re playing.  

It’s a bad day.

He gets through a class and a half before he stumbles into the bathroom, hands shaking and breaths shallow.

Evan doesn’t like confrontation. It makes him feel nauseous and dizzy and there’s no way this can end without confrontation.

He doesn’t know if he’s going to make it through the rest of the day.

—«·»—

Evan makes it through the rest of the day. Barely. The ‘barely’ is important. He didn’t pay much attention and when he did, he didn’t retain much of the information, but he didn’t have a meltdown in class and for now that has to be good enough.

He goes to the computer lab to print his letter for the day because it’s normal and part of his schedule. And because he’s still pretending he can do this assignment. That he can pretend that everything is okay when nothing is okay at all. That he can find some optimism in a world that’s permanently gray.

Connor Murphy is sitting at one of the computers.

He has his feet kicked up on the table and his hood pulled down over his eyes.

Evan decides the best thing to do is leave. He can print the letter tomorrow. Change his schedule to do it before school. Be anywhere other than here.

Connor sits up as soon as he turns to leave.

“Evan, right?” Connor asks, tugging on his hoody.

“Y-yeah.” Evan grips the straps of his backpack. He needs to ground himself. Somehow.

Connor sighs. “Sorry about…” He gestures vaguely with a hand. “My parents. I heard they jumped you.”

“Not ex-exactly,” Evan mumbles. He’s trying to form an exit strategy but his mind isn’t working right.

“Yeah well Larry is a piece of shit and my mom hasn’t really stopped crying in days.” Connor pulls his legs down and stands up from the chair and oh god Evan forgot how tall he was. “Good job getting out of visiting. It was the fucking worst.”

Evan glances at the ground. He sees Connor’s name on his cast out of the corner of his eye. He tightens his grip on his backpack. “W-was it planned?”

Connor shrugs. “This is like the fourth time I’ve tried, why does it fucking matter anymore?”

Evan grits his teeth. “Was it planned?”

Connor scoffs. “Why do you care?”

Evan looks up at him. “B-because you paid me!” He lifts his cast toward Connor. “You signed this cast and made it look like we were—”

“Oh my god,” Connor murmurs.

“What was I supposed to do?!” Because that’s the question. What did Connor want from him?! Why him?

Connor tore at his hair. “Are you fucking serious—”

“What was I supposed to do if you died?” Evan interrupts. “What then? Y-your family already thinks we’re best friends—”

“I can’t believe I tried to kill myself and you—”

“— Was I just supposed to lie?! Lie about being best friends with the dead kid? Was that your plan, Connor?!”

“Oh fuck off!” Connor shouts.

Evan shakes his head. His mind is spinning and there are all these possibilities and he feels like he’s going to fall over. “Because it sure feels like you were using me and I know what it’s like to— I know what it feels like and I’ve been there but I never thought ‘oh man I should drag this other person down with me’, I just jumped out of a fucking tree!”

Evan breathes heavily as Connor stares at him, eyes wide.

“…you what?” Connor asks. There’s no anger in his voice, just—

Evan reruns his last words in his mind.

Oh no.

“N-no no I-I just meant—” Evan holds his hands out in front of him and shakes his head. “I di-didn’t—” He steps backward and stumbles over himself. “I-I need— I have to go.”

He twists around, tripping as he runs out of the computer lab, slamming his shoulder against the door to open it as he flees.

He thinks Connor might call after him.

He doesn’t care.

[kairoskrp]

                                          — On the wicked wings of time, thy kingdom comes

Meet [ Kim Minseok ]

He is a [ twenty-five ] year old [ manager at chapter one ] currently residing in [ sunhwa apartments, #304 ]. Visit  and greet  him today!

Personality:

Minseok has a bit of a resting bitch face which really hides the way he is. He is a care taker at heart, he will do what he can to make the people closest to him smile even just for a moment. He is stubborn in his ways though, when Minseok has decided you have to be a very special person to get him to change it. He knows what he likes and knows what he doesn’t. He isn’t hard to please. He enjoys the trivial things in life, he likes the way sunlight makes shadows when it peers through trees. He likes that his cat, Mittens will come and paw at him at 3am every morning for food but his therapy dog Puddles won’t ask for food. Minseok is very observant, as someone who enjoys the details in life he takes note of little things people do.

Minseok has a few nervous habits that include his hands. He drinks out of plastic bottles or plastic glasses instead of glass because he will freeze glass much more easily. He hides his hands in big sweaters and sweatshirts to not show his purple/blue knuckles. He doesn’t wear tank tops because the scars on his shoulder make him feel exposed. Minseok will always have white roses in his house, no matter the season. They were his late mothers favorite flower, its his way of thinking of her on the daily.

Spirit: Boreas, God of North Winds and Snow

Powers: Cold manipulation

+ Able to make small snow flurries by cupping his hands and blowing into them.

+ Able to freeze things using his hands, not able to freeze plastic, not able to freeze people the most he can do is cause a stinging sensation

Weaknesses:

-          Hot, as in temperature foods, he can eat them, but it makes his abilities harder to use and it makes him feel sluggish

-          Due to his accident his left shoulder/elbow are quite weak, he still can’t lift over 20 lbs.

-          Direct sunlight for long periods of time makes his abilities harder to use and begins to hurt his eyes

Biography:

{7}

Minseok is only 7. He remembers the dinner, the lack of conversation that night. He remembers the unsettling silence as it washes over him. His Father begins to speak. “We are getting divorced.” Minseok thinks he knows what that means.  Separation. He does not understand why his parents would want to separate. Its all that was said that night. {10-14} Minseok learns how to travel between houses. Mom’s House and Dad’s House. He does not travel between homes. His Father forces him to learn Chinese, play the piano. He won’t have a failure of a son he says. He Wont. And he doesnt, Minseok performs perfectly, but that is only thanks to the fact that he gets some relief from his mother. His mother does not force him to do much of anything. She lends him books, teaches him about flowers and the language they speak. She congratulates him and loves him and is nothing like his father. {15} Its when he is 15 when things begin to change for the first time. It’s when his piano teacher strikes him on the hand for the last time. Causing him to bleed and then pass out. He goes to the hospital and learns two things. One,he is anemic. Two, his mother did not know what was going on at his fathers. His mother is revolted, claims full custody of Minseok and he never has to see his father again.

{15-18}

Minseok begins to take iron supplements. It comes less of a routine and more of a habit each morning. His mother continues to encourage him in school, though he thinks its a waste. He gives up the Chinese lessons but surprisingly continues with the piano. At age 17, Minseok discovers that men as well as women are beautiful. He meets a boy named Jinyoung and he falls so head over heels its sicking. Jinyoung doesn’t mind Minseok’s cold hands or his blank stare. But Jinyoung does seem to mind other people as well as Minseok. “It’s not like I never loved you or anything, its just…I dunno we are young? Dont be so serious.” This is the first time Minseok has had his heartbroken. He continues on with many different types of relationships, he graduates. Top of his class and his father is not present.

{18-20}

College begins and slowly Minseok begins to fall into some sort of routine. Every morning he wakes up, takes his pills, goes to class, goes to work (a small part time job as a cashier) and then goes home. On the days he doesn’t have work he does homework. His mother slowly begins to get ill. Minseok has to make a choice. Continue on with the education, he doesn’t think will go anywhere or work and help his mother. He chooses his mother. Minseok drops out of college at 19, not even completing a degree much to his mothers dismay. He says he has to work hard to pay her hospital bills. On June 25th, Minseok takes his mother for a routine check up. It’s supposed to be a normal check up. “Kim Jae-hye, your mother, Minseok she only has around a month left in her… The cancer, it’s speeding up faster then we thought.” Minseok does everything in his power in 30 days to make his mother happy. He buys her flowers everyday. He plays the piano for her, knowing how much she loved the sound. They would go on short walks on her better days. On the better days when his mother didn’t seem sick. When the month that ticked away didn’t feel like anything.

Death is a funny thing. Minseok almost feels like he felt it coming. He knew it was coming of course, the doctor had said so. July 27th, he goes to his mothers room only to see her to be peacefully asleep. He walks over to her body and grabs her hand. He feels no pulse. The funeral was a short one. Minseok chokes up when he is asked to speak about his mother. About how much she meant to him, she was the ray of sunshine in his life. His Everything. Minseok swears he can see his father in the crowd.

{21}

A year after his mothers death, Minseok falls into a deep depression. He lives off of the money his mother left him, which isn’t much. He doesn’t eat, barely sleeps. Minseok discovers booze, discovers it’s numbing affects. He gets drunk more often then not. Stumbling into his house early one morning he discovers a note of his late mother. “ Dear Minseok, My Dearest Son, I know that I am going to pass soon. We both know I only have such little time left. I’d like to write this letter to thank you for being the best son I could have ever asked for. I know that life with me and your father hasn’t always been easy. I know that. I just hope that I could have been a good figure for you. I hope so. Please continue living life to best of your ability. Don’t let this cold world tear you down. Love, Your mother”

Sobering up is different for everyone.

{22-23}

Minseok cuts back on the booze, on the clubs. On the loud bars, the numb feeling of stumbling home to no one. He works, oh god does he work. He saves up all his money, well, expect for the GSX-R 600 on his birthday. He decides he is going to move. Moving to Seoul may not be the best idea that Minseok has ever had but he holds his head held high with the words of his mother in his heart. Along the way he tries again at love. The first couple times it doesn’t work. They say he is too focused on everything but them. He doesn’t disagree. On his 24th birthday he has enough money to finally move to Seoul.

{24, The Accident} After finally moving into the apartment complex he has looked at forever Minseok feels as if a whole new world as opened up for him. He is in a new area! A new life! March this year is a cold one, the snow has yet to melt and it feels as if spring will never appear. On a one last trip to Guri, his home town, his rental car is packed with the very last few things he owns. Its nothing really impressive. Minseok never really had the chance to really collect anything that he thought was important. He is still nervous about foreclosing the house though. It’s a long process the people who know alot more about this then he does. Thats what they said. He just wished it would hurry up already, that and he hoped his father wouldn’t try to take the house. In his daze, he gets t-boned on the highway, throwing his car off of the road and rolling into the snow banks on the side. Minseok is trapped under the car and has no way of escape. He tries to crawl his way out, only sliding open the right side of chin and his lip. Bleeding and freezing, he thinks hes going to die. Going to die just before he could start over. Before his very eyes, a figure appeared. It was a tall man, with a long beard laced with frost. “I will save you,” It began and Minseok thought he saw God this was his enterance into heaven. It turns out God, or A God, was Boreas. The God of North Winds and Winter. Passing itself into Minseok as the next vessel. Minseok passes out in the snow. When he awakes much later, he is no longer trapped under a car. He is in a hospital hooked up to IV’s with at least a half a dozen people around him. They say It’s a miracle he survived. He decides to not tell them of the God or the fact when he holds his water the swirls of frost that pass over it.

No miracle is without sacrifice it seems.

He has to get stitches on his right lip and chin. Frostbite had already taken ahold of his left shoulder and was moving down his arm by the time he was rescued. Long scars that look like fingers or ice cracks ghost his collarbone down his left shoulder, stopping right before his elbow.

{25-present Minseok}

Recovery takes awhile. Minseok has to go to physical therapy twice a week for 3 hours. His left shoulder is still quite sore and he cannot lift anything over 20 lbs. Minseok adopts the stray kitten who he sees near his apartment complex. She is white with black feet, he names her Mittens. He also gets a small therapy dog. A black and tan Shiba Inu, who, despite all his trying, only comes to the name Puddles. Puddles is there on his bad days, his stay in bed all days. Minseok finds he really likes working at Chapter One. His mind feels at ease and its not too much physical labor. He discovers rapidly what he can and cannot do. Wood will not freeze unless its wet, dont touch people, he will sting them. Even if he doesn’t mean too.

These days Minseok is just looking for someone to break down his ice walls, someone to look past his blank stare and cold hands to see the warm heart within.

[8cetera]

Track #4: Sunday

(A string of short imagines based on Rafael Barba, inspired by the songs from Jonathan Larson’s Tick, Tick...Boom!) #1. 30/90  #2. Green Green Dress  #3. Johnny Can’t Decide  #4. Sunday  #5. No More #6. Therapy

A tingling sensation on the side of her arm woke her from her sleep, must be an itch, she thought. Without even opening her eyes she reached up to the source to scratch it, only to come in contact with rough fingertips. Not an itch after all. She summoned her eyes to finally open and immediately felt glad afterwards.

There were very few sights she enjoyed more than a bare-chest Rafael underneath her linen sheets. She appreciated the neat comb overs and high-end tailored suits of the unstoppable counselor just as much as the next person, but she would trade it all for this in an instant.

The disheveled hair, the reduced eye bags, the peaceful expression; a sense of pride began to form within her as she realized how lucky she was to bear witness this side of him.

Unable to resist any longer, she caught his fingers in the midst of his light strokes and interlocked her fingers with his. Besides, as ridiculous as it was, she was beginning to feel jealous of the ceiling he was staring at so intently.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yes—” She feigned irritation but couldn’t continue the act for long when she noticed his apologetic expression “But I’m so, so glad you did.”

She shifted closer to him to place a kiss on his throat, earning a soft hum.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Really well…” He said in a daze, before looking down at her with a devious expression, “Until I woke up because I couldn’t feel my arm. Spooning really isn’t what they make it out to be in the movies, you know it’s really-”

She gave him a light jab to the stomach before quickly sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. She pulled the sheets to her chest and narrowed her eyes at him, receiving a deep chuckle in return.

“Are you hungry?”

She wasn’t thinking about food until he said the words, and just as luck would have it her stomach began to grumble. He grinned and reached for his watch on the side table.

“So am I. It’s 9:30. How about we head to the diner for brunch? We haven’t done that in a while.” He moved to lay on his front and traced random patterns on her thighs.

She beamed at his suggestion, and slid out of the bed to change even before she answered.

“Sounds great to me.”

"Let's go somewhere else."

Rafael tugged on her coat, motioning with his hand for them to leave the diner.

"No-no I'm sure we'll get a seat soon."

She was trying to maintain an optimistic tone but it was becoming increasingly difficult after she had been pushed twice by patrons leaving the dinner. Who would have thought that the entire city would have the same idea and decide to have Sunday brunch at exactly this hour.

"But it's so crowded."

"It'll be fine." She assured him, before looping her arm around his.

"Besides, this is the only place that makes the espresso exactly how you like it. Just be patient."

Rafael looked down defeated, knowing that she was right. However, when a group of seven people came barging in as if they weren’t there, he said to himself he couldn't take it anymore and began to drag her closer to the door.

She didn't feel the need to object until she heard, what seemed at the time, two wonderful magic words.

"How many?"

They were seated at the corner of the diner, and right next to them was the entrance to the kitchen. Every time food would come out, the doors would fling open in such a full force that their table shook.

The entire diner was bursting with noise. It was a mixture of loud conversation, toddlers crying, plates and glasses shattering. It annoyed Rafael to no end as he checked his watch for the third time since they sat down. He mumbled to himself, and fidgeted in his seat profusely.

All the while his significant other sat quietly across from him with her hands on her lap, observing in amusement.

He stood up from his seat to try and grab the attention of a waiter passing by.

“Order—”

“Someone will be with you soon.”

He pursed his lips and sighed audibly as he slumped back into his seat.

"Relax, Barba" she teased, "It's only been ten minutes."

He scoffed, "More like twenty—and that's not counting the extra fifteen we waited earlier.”

“Do you even know what you’re having?”

He opened his mouth to say something but paused when he realized the answer to that was indeed, a no.

Rafael lifted one of the menus tucked in between the wall and napkin holder, quickly scanning its contents.

“Not yet, but I bet I can guess what you’re having.”

She couldn’t hide the wide grin forming on her face, and in just mere seconds Rafael’s expression began to match hers.

“Niçoise salad and honey—” “Niçoise salad and honey bread.”

Their laughter was interrupted by their waiter, to Rafael’s relief, arriving to take their order.

He was out of breath as he scrambled to take out his pen and notepad.

“Hey, I’m Jon. What can I get you guys?”

“Can I please get the Niçoi—”

“We’re outta’ lettuce.”

“Oh, that’s fine I’ll just get the honey bre—”

“Outta’ honey bread.”

The slight disappointment apparent on her face combined Jon incessantly tapping his pen on his notepad tested Rafael’s patience deeply.

“Are you just out of everything?”

“Raf—it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. How can they call themselves a diner if—”

She was glad to be quick enough to kick his shin under the table before he could finish his sentence.

“What about just some toast and eggs, sunny-side?”

“That, we can do—and you?”

He turned to Rafael who could only narrow his eyes at him.

“I’ll have the same.”

She shook her head and looked up to Jon, “A Cuban espresso and some orange juice as well, please.”

“Sure thing.”

After Jon left, Rafael’s expression still seemed like he wanted to teach the kid a lesson. She reached her arm out across the table, inviting him to take her hand.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He gently lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Nothing, nothing. Just hungry, I guess.”

“How’s the coffee?”

Rafael avoided direct eye-contact and took another sip.

“It’s good, but a bit too sweet today.”

“That’s exactly how you like it. You can be such a bad liar sometimes, Rafael.”

She shook her head and then turned her attention to the middle section of the diner.

“Hey, look.” She pointed towards the green cylindrical stools, “Remember when we first came here, and we made fun of the color of those stools?”

He quickly chewed and swallowed his last bite of toast before answering,

“Yeah, I think they just got them back then and they were this horrible... lime green color? Didn’t match any of the other interiors.”

She nodded and continued to stare at the stools, “Exactly, but look at it now—It seemed to have blended in just fine with the others. Funny, what time does.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

His reply brought her out of her daydream and she proceeded to pick up the last piece of her toast.

“Marry me.”

She felt the piece of bread land on her pants, and then down to the floor right by her shoe as her hand involuntarily let it go.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think so.”

Rafael leaned his arms on the table so that he was now closer to her.

“Marry...” He looked straight into her eyes, and it terrified her to admit that she saw absolutely no signs that he joking, “me.”

She wished she hadn’t asked. Hearing him say it slower proved to be a worse scenario. She looked around the room making sure no one was paying attention to them. When her eyes met his again she began to make incoherent sounds, unsure if she should even be trying to speak.

“It’s been six years. Six. Years. You can’t tell me you’re that surprised?”

“Is this about when we had dinner with your mother two weeks ago? When I went on and on about my cousin’s wedding, about how I hated tier cakes—that was between me and your mom, Rafael, and I wasn’t being serious—you-you really shouldn’t have been listening to our—”

“You’re changing the subject.”

She bit her bottom lip nervously and fiddled with the ends of her blouse.

“But to answer your question-” He leaned back and crossed his arms, “No, it wasn’t because of dinner. I’ve been wanting to do this for awhile.”

Her head perked up as she was genuinely surprised.

“Thought I could try being romantic for a change and bring us back here.”

He eyes wandered around the room and the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Where he had our first date.”

“Even though it didn’t go exactly how I had planned… And you deserve a better proposal, I know. I’m sorry I just—I couldn’t wait to ask anymore.”

The two were so engrossed they didn’t even notice that Jon had returned with their bill.

“Here’s… the check.” Jon nervously said as he realized he might have interrupted an important conversation, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Even though she didn’t want to, she tore her eyes away from the pleading green ones opposite her and reached for the tray with the bill.

“Let me get this.”

A few minutes outside proved to be a vast contrast from the atmosphere in the diner. It was a quiet, chilly February afternoon, the only sounds they could hear were the rustling of the leaves as a strong wind began to blow harshly.

Among other things, this was what kept her holding on tight to Rafael as they began to walk back.

“Do you like tier cakes?”

She asked suddenly as she tightened the hold on his arm.

“Hate them.”

“What kind of cake would you like, then?”

He untangled himself from her hold and instead put his hands on each side of her cheeks.

“I really don’t care” He chuckled, “We could have a cheesecake the size of our apartment if that’s what you want. All that matters is—”

“How many guests would we have?”

“None.” He said curtly and her eyes widened, “We’ll do it in City Hall, it’ll be a short distance from work and—”

She sighed and turned around so he was facing her back.

The next minute his arms were around her waist and his lips right by her ear.

“I’m kidding.” He whispered, and kissed her temple.

“I would like it to be small. Your family. Mamá. Friends. Maybe the squad, but we’ll see.”

She laughed, and thought her heart might burst from all the emotions that were running through her. “That’s what I want, too.”

“Really?”

She turned to wrap her arms around his neck, “Yes, really.”

He placed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes before he gathered the strength to ask again.

“Yes?”

She kissed him once, and then two more times, not caring at all that his lips felt cold as ice from the harsh wind.

“Yes.”

She would kiss them over and over again until they weren’t.

[cosmosogler]

hi, i am starting late tonight because i was doing RESEARCH!!!

i slept pretty horribly last night. i noticed that my dreams are featuring a lot of wet clothes. clingy, gross, heavy clothes. 

the dream started out as me wandering around “dream philadelphia,” which for some reason features a lot of what looks like giant toy trains. the trains only go one way, so if you leave town and forget something, well, you got a long walk back. also they seem to operate on the same schedule as the spongebob buses. which is to say, the most inconvenient possible.

anyway i was bumming around not doing much when i ran into dad. he was trying to take a train somewhere and didn’t understand how the system worked. i basically said “sucks to be you” and mostly focused on what i was doing, or rather, what i was not doing. i had absolutely no reason not to help him except i didn’t feel like it, and also maybe because explaining how the trains worked was too hard. 

then i was trying to move out of my dorm, as i often am, and the mob was also there? i couldn’t pack wet clothes, so i kept putting them in the dryer, but every time i went to check if they were ready to be packed yet they were still dripping. it was driving me nuts because the dryers’ timers were basically random so i couldn’t tell how long it had been any time i wanted to check.

when i woke up i finished up the sonic fan character picture. i seem to have done other things, but i don’t remember what they might have been. i looked up some stuff about the preliminary exam. i microwaved the leftover pizza for lunch and got super grossed out and gave up before i could finish two slices. i fed one of the crusts to the dogs.

my dad rescued a little cactus mouse from out of the pool filter the other day. we’ve been keeping him in the old fish tank with some leftover fluff we have for the hamster. mom wants to get rid of him asap, but i worry that we won’t know how sick he is unless we keep him until wednesday or so. i actually thought he had died this afternoon, but when i was digging through the drawers to get a plastic spoon to poke him he started breathing again. he opened his eyes and wandered around a little bit yesterday, which is promising. the chlorine had probably really hurt them for the first day and a half.

i didn’t really feel understood in group therapy today. the goal stuff was fine, the therapist gave me a worksheet to fill out and talked about other resources she could probably give me if i asked for them on wednesday. it was when i brought up that i felt like, if a problem is able to be overcome, then it wasn’t really a valid problem. unless a problem is permanent, it shouldn’t be a problem i had in the first place. 

it’s very odd. the therapist used it as a launch pad to go into, like, how she thinks impostor syndome is fake i guess? i don’t remember exactly what it was because at the time i was devoting most of my energy to figuring out how to articulate my problem better. i didn’t really get the chance to go more in depth about it though.

i guess that’s something i should bring up with my individual therapist tomorrow. i kinda know where it comes from, but the examples that come to mind are only tangentially related to the feeling. it appears to stem from how my mother treats my nightmares. she says they aren’t real or i’m making them up or “dreaming while awake” somehow. so, if they get worse, she’ll HAVE to recognize they’re real!!!

except i don’t even care about what she thinks, because she is useless as a source of advice there? and mostly in general useless as a source of advice or encouragement. i can’t figure out why i care and why that problem is so significant that it’s, like, wrecking my willingness to change my situation. 

my therapist said i did make the goal-setting much harder than it needed to be. and she said i was lacking in some areas of self awareness but she didn’t elaborate because she wanted me to figure it out myself.

that made me feel really nervous. it confirmed that i probably don’t know myself very well, or at least i am not confident in my understanding of reality. but i knew that already.

i guess i am living in some kind of funhouse mirror reality where i suck at everything. but i need that reality because otherwise i start thinking too highly of myself and people get angry. i am “egotistical” and “look down on others.” “you think you are all that but you’re not.” “you’ll die alone.” “your ego is going to come back and bite you someday and when it does i’ll laugh.” 

ok i think i may be embellishing that last one but those parents were very angry with me. because i was upset that they had stolen my group’s space station project for the nasa competition. the next day they followed me all the way from the drop-off to the back of the campus where my classroom was, leaned over me, hissing stuff like that in my ear but it didn’t matter because there weren’t any teachers paying attention so it was fine i guess!!!!!!

just like it was fine when craig did stuff because nobody cared!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

dad called me egotistical in grade school too. he also got super mad about it. i would get in the car and he would hold the door open and scream and then slam the door in my face. it was fine because he is my parent so he can do whatever he wants.

the lesson here is that no one else cared about me, so i shouldn’t care about me either. if i start caring about me, i might get upset about all that stuff that happened!!! and that would be bad. because i would be a bummer and no one would want to hang out with me.

it’s like... these people want me to change. but i have reasons, like, lots of reasons, for acting the way i do. and maybe i feel like i’m not allowed to change until i make them understand how hard it is.

i mean, of course i’m allowed to change any time i want. i’m in charge of how i act. but... how easy is it to unlearn a lesson i’ve had repeatedly hammered, beaten, and screamed in for 24 years?

and if it’s not impossible, it’s not hard enough. hard enough for what i don’t know. if i am not literally dead i am not trying hard enough. actually i could probably die from trying too hard for too long and at my funeral mom would say “she should have tried harder to stay alive.”

there is no pleasing her. i don’t think i even want to please her. i don’t know what my subconscious thinks. i guess being denied something just makes you want it more? even if you tell yourself you don’t want it anyway.

i like to joke around that kyral is a “personified explosion,” but i guess in a way i am one too. not in the same way. but the way i approach life. if i am not exceeding my limit at all times i am not good enough. if i get sick because i was exceeding my limit for too long i couldn’t be good enough. if i am at the end of my rope there’s got to be more steam in there, i know it, there just has to be, and i have to use it right now or i won’t be good enough.

self care and stuff like that just distracts from time i could be trying harder. but i am not allowed to acknowledge that i am working hard, or harder than is healthy for me, because that would make me egotistical. the worst offense possible!!! 

why is it so important that i don’t come across in any way as egotistical? i guess because deep down i feel very inadequate, and i find people who oversell their abilities to be extremely annoying. but aren’t i overselling my energy capacity? 

to be honest it probably WOULD be better if i took more care to address my limits. but i always feel the need to make just one more last push, so i kind of forget about the limit or hate the limit. 

i had a self esteem journal i wanted to start filling out this week. i may have to put off starting it until tomorrow though because now it is almost 1 and i am late getting to bed again. 

after therapy i went to my cousin’s high school graduation party dinner with the rest of my family. i acted really obnoxious around my younger brother and cousins because i am pretty sure they think it’s funny. i like seeing them react so i do things i am reasonably certain will get a reaction. and i almost always do!

what i did for the graduating cousin in particular is, since my sister forgot to buy a card, i was tasked with making one. so i put a terrible pun on the front cover and spelled my cousin’s name wrong, wrote “have a good life.” on the inside, and got mom to put a ton of glitter inside and individually tape a couple of 1-dollar bills to the card. it got him to shake his head and sigh. he is normally Too Cool to interact with me.

my youngest cousin asked when i’m going to grow out of pokemon. i said “if i ever want to stop, then i guess i’ll stop then.” he brought up the time he beat me because i stopped to tease him instead of just finishing the battle. i think in my cousins’ eyes i am some sort of unbeatable pokemon god. but really in competitions i lose about as much as i win, and by about the same margins. i just like pokemon a lot.

when i got home i sent an email to the florida physics department asking for some test resources. then i put a lot of time into researching self care and strategies for becoming more assertive and having a more reasonable self esteem. that’s why i started writing so late. i also dumped like 8 of the pages i found into my queue so now you can look at ALL OF THEM too!!!

tomorrow i need to do some more things. i gotta work on the usual stuff, the welcome packet, et cetera. i have therapy at 10:30, so i really need to go to bed soon if i’m going to be able to get up for it. i need to drop by my physician’s office and pick up some paperwork and ask about a test they wanted to schedule. i will probably just have leftovers for lunch... then i’m going to watch a movie with oz. then i gotta do the technology setup and troubleshooting stuff with my classmates to prepare for future study sessions. that should last me until about 5:30. i will try to play in the yard with the dog more in the evening, and possibly make a dinner that’s more than “microwave some rice.” i will have to find some time to work on the self esteem journal, and also on the therapy goal worksheet and packets for wednesday. maybe i will also start coloring the owl picture i got from the resources folder at the hospital. 

pretty sure i’m forgetting something. but that will have to wait until the morning or whenever it comes up i guess.