#the good news: i was finally able to take my ps4 apart to clean it

[dragonaqe]

[capncococharms]

Games I Enjoyed in 2022

Ever since 2018 I decided that I needed to make a digital sticky note to keep track of all the games I beat each year and that personal tradition lives on to this day. I like the idea of looking back on the games I gave my full attention to throughout the year and seeing which games left a significant impact on me from a gameplay and story perspective.

I finished about 22 games in 2022, but out of all those games (in no particular order) here are the few games I beat and I'm glad I had a chance to experience them.

No More Heroes III

Around two years ago I got hooked on No More Heroes during the pandemic. I streamed the first game and then started to play the other games on my own in preparation for the third game. I considered skipping Travis Strikes Again but I gave it a chance and that ended up being one of my favorite games in the series (especially the DLC). It took me a bit to get through III because I was relatively busy the year it came out and the rest of the year really bummed me out in terms of life and my day job. There was a day I had off from work this year when I decided to sit down and finish the entire game in one sitting. I am so glad no one spoiled the ending and it makes me sad there aren't more games that are as goofy and insane as NMH. I wish I held out to play the PS5/ PC port, but I didn't mind it on Switch despite it didn't look or run so hot. It's about the same gameplay I expected from a NMH game in terms of the first two games, but there was some new stuff that shook up to formula a bit. There is potential for this gameplay to go above and beyond but honestly, the charm of NMH is peeking into SUDA's brain and I hope to play more of his games in 2023. NMH III was full of laughs and it inspired me creative-wise.

Chibi-Robo

I meant to play this game when I was a pre-teen because I read good things about it in Nintendo Power, but I never got around to it. Waiting this long to play was a huge mistake. The game is WAY TOO expensive to physically own so I had to find another way to play it and after playing the whole game... I'm so sad there aren't more games like it. I had a BLAST going around as a tiny robot cleaning up stains and garbage while witnessing a family falling apart and then working to fix things up and come together. It's a simple game that doesn't take too much time to get through, but the experience alone was cute and left me feeling like a kid enjoying a new game again. It was a friendly reminder that I can still enjoy video games.

Shadow of the Colossus

I never grew up with Sony/ Playstation games much other than experiencing Kingdom Hearts through osmosis at a friend's place or my cousin's house. As soon as I got to college I wanted to play a lot of the PS classics when I had time. While it has been a slow burn over the years to play some of the big PS titles I finally had a chance to play SotC and I'm SO GLAD that experience wasn't spoiled by anyone else. That game is truly something worth experiencing if you've never had a chance to play it. SotC is the perfect balance of being a pure video game and also a work of art in terms of storytelling. I wish I played the PS2 version, but the PS4 remake was fine even though there were a few hiccups on how it ran. Didn't ruin my overall enjoyment in the slightest.

Final Fantasy VI

For MANY years I've always heard folks and friends praise this game and I always considered checking it out whenever I had time. I took time to stream it this year and after taking a month or so to play it... it was unlike anything I've ever experienced in terms of story, music, and emotion. It's a game that pulled me in many directions when it came to how I felt. I laughed, I gasped and I started sobbing once I got to the final screen. It left me with the same feelings I had when I first played MOTHER 3 in high school. I never thought I'd ever feel that way with another video game, but I'm glad I was able to feel something like that again after all these years. I hope someday if I ever have a family I would love to share this game with them. The ending leaves a positive message of hope and a brighter future when the world is a dark and scary place. Absolutely one of my favorite experiences of this year.

Honorable mentions

Mon Amour- I love Yoshiro Kimura's games and I had a blast with his vision of the Flappy Bird gameplay with kissing. Also, a killer OST that everyone should listen to.

Kirby and the Forgotten Land- Kirby's transition to 3D worked so well and Elfilin melted my heart. Not much to say about this game other than it was another fun Kirby experience that made me happy.

Trauma Center: Second Opinion- I didn't like the Triti surgeries those are the worst things ever made but aside from that I loved the final surgery in the game. Had the best track and it felt like a real final boss. I'm currently replaying it to see how fast I can do these surgeries.

Telltale's The Walking Dead Season 1- I was watching the TV series with my roommate and while I got pretty bored with the show after like 5 to 6 seasons in, they suggested I play the Telltale game and I honestly feel the game has more impact than the show itself given you are thrown into these choices and you have to act fast on your feet. It was my first time playing a Telltale game so I'm happy it was a good first experience. Not sure I'm up to playing the rest of TWD quite yet, but I do want to play Telltale's other games.

I did also finish Persona 5 Royal this year, but my feelings about that game are way too complicated. The short answer is the base game is a bit long, but it should have ended there because the Royal content/ story was a huge waste of time and soured the entire experience. If I ever had to play that game again, I'd go with the base release.

Well that was a small peek into my gaming ventures in 2022. Here's hoping that I can keep digging through my backlog and play some new titles that interest me in 2023!

[a-n-conrad]

Dinner With May (PS4!Peter Parker x Reader)

[Summary: After the events of the PS4 Spider-man game, you find yourself and your boyfriend, Peter, having dinner at his aunt’s house. For some reason, Peter seemed even more anxious than usual. It wasn’t until you overheard a conversation between him and his aunt that you figured out why. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: PS4 Spider-man spoilers, not canon compliant, marriage/proposals, anxiety

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/LbodcqZ7nxfGbNW96)]

It had been a chaotic month for you and Peter. Peter had been working almost nonstop as Spider-man, having to fight all of his biggest villains along with his mentor and the man that his aunt worked for, two men that he looked up to and trusted. He had been hurt fairly badly at certain points, and you had to patch him up when he did.

Not to mention, at one point Dr. Octavius had released a plague onto New York in an attempt to get revenge against Norman Osborn, and for the few days after that, you were helping Miles Morales and Peter’s Aunt May work to help all the people at the F.E.A.S.T. center that were going there for shelter as the city descended into chaos. By the end of it, May had gotten sick, Peter had broken multiple bones, and you and Miles had been almost killed a few different times. Peter was barely able to save May in time, and the clean-up still wasn’t done, but you guys were finally able to take a day to relax.

May had noticed that the two of you had been working nearly constantly, so she had invited the two of you over for dinner. May was a sweetheart. And she was an amazing cook, too so you were relatively excited to get to sit down for a nice meal with Peter and his aunt.

She was making your favorite, which you had told her a thousand times she didn’t need to do. But she was insistent. At this point, she switched between cooking your favorite meal and Peter’s every time the two of you went over for dinner.

You didn’t get the chance to go over to her house as much as you would like. You were busy enough with your job, and most nights Peter was gone before dinner to go stop crimes throughout the city. So more often than not, you were on your own for dinner, grabbing something quick from a shop that does takeout on your way home from work late in the evening.

But you had taken the day off of work to finally get a chance to relax, and you had insisted that Peter do the same, despite his protests that he was “totally fine” and “couldn’t take a day off”. Eventually, you had to get Miles to promise that he could handle one night on his own and that he would call Peter if anything came up that he needed help with. He was still pretty new to everything, but he could manage the petty crimes on his own.

- - - - -

The sun was already setting by the time the two of you got to May’s house. It had taken you almost an hour to get Peter out of the apartment that you shared, between him needed to call Miles to check-in and him nervously trying to make sure that he remembered everything. He apologized profusely for the entire trip over for making you late, and you spent the entire time trying to convince him that he didn’t need to apologize.

He had finally calmed down a bit by the time you got to his aunt’s house. He was always pretty anxious, especially when he wasn’t in his Spider-man suit, but somehow he seemed extra nervous tonight. You wondered if maybe his mental health had been suffering lately, after everything that had happened. You had to admit that you were starting to get a bit worried about him. You knew he could take care of himself, but sometimes he just didn’t. He had this bad habit of sacrificing his health and safety for the people around him and you were worried that he was doing that again.

So you hoped that dragging him to a nice dinner with his aunt would get him to take a bit of time for himself. She had been trying to get him to take better care of himself for as long as you could remember, so maybe she could do something to help convince him to take a few days to himself every once in a while. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were ganging up on him, but you had almost lost him a few times in the recent past and you weren’t ready for that.

“So which one of us do you think is going to insist on doing dishes after dinner first tonight,” You asked, your tone a bit teasing as you tried to lighten the mood a bit and distract Peter from his anxiety.

“Hmmm,” He pretended to think about it, the way he usually did when you teased him and he decided to play along, “Probably you, since you always seem to beat me to it.”

“Now that’s not true,” You place your hand over your heart in mock offense, like one of the ladies in a Victorian Era period drama, “I let you do the dishes on my birthday.”

He shook his head and chuckled a bit at that, before finally knocking on the door to his aunt’s house.

She opened the door with a smile on her face and the smell of amazing food wafting out of the kitchen. She greeted you each with a hug, letting you into the house like it was your house too. She had tried to convince you that you didn’t need to knock, but you insisted. You got a bit anxious when manners were in question. Maybe your anxiety was part of the reason that you and Peter worked so well together.

“It’s so nice to see you two,” May said as the two of you walked into the house. Her eyes almost started welling up with tears as she looked at you and Peter. Peter had officially revealed his identity as Spider-Man to her in the heat of everything happening and, while she had known the entire time, she had been incredibly worried for his safety with everything that was happening.

“It’s nice to see you too, Aunt May,” Peter almost melted as he walked into the living room. The tension seemed to drain from his shoulders as he looked at his aunt and took in the fact that she was safe, “How are feeling?”

“Just fine, Peter,” She said, her voice kind and reassuring in the way that you knew would calm Peter’s nerves a little, “I’ve been recovering pretty well, and it helps to get a day off to rest.”

You could tell that the last sentence was a little pointed, not in a scolding way, but instead in the way your mom did when she knew you hadn’t had any water all day. With a bit of teasing but mostly with care and concern for your wellbeing. And you could tell that he could hear it too by the slightly sheepish look that crossed his face.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re doing well,” You responded, unable to stop the smile from crossing your face. It was always kind of cute to see him come back home. You got to see him in a lot of different lights, as Peter Parker the scientist, the photographer, the awkward date, and of course, the city’s hero. But despite all of these different personas, you had to say that Peter Parker, the doting nephew was one of your favorites, “Thank you so much for inviting us over.”

“Of course, dear,” She turned to you with the same soft smile on her face, “You know you’re always welcome over, I’m just thankful that you managed to convince my nephew to take enough time off to come to visit me.”

You chuckle a little at that, “Of course, May. You know he’d come visit more if he wasn’t so busy with trying to stop every crime in New York.”

“Oh, I know. And I appreciate you looking out for him, dear.”

- - - - -

Dinner was nice. One of those moments that you wished you could freeze in time. You were warm and your stomach was full and you were smiling the entire time. It was the first time in a long time that you were pretty sure that nothing bad would happen for at least the next hour. You got to be domestic for just a little while, safe and happy and surrounded by the love of your life and his family.

“Alright, I’ll get started on the dishes,” You said when the meal ended, shooting a wink at Peter as you stand. May shot you the same exasperated look that she always did, but let you take her plate. She had given up on trying to stop you a long time ago, realizing that you would insist no matter what she said. Peter just chuckled a bit, remembering your conversation from earlier.

Doing dishes alone in the kitchen was nice sometimes. It was a moment for you to collect yourself. You loved May and Peter, and you didn’t mind spending the whole night with them, but sometimes a few moments of quiet was nice. The smell of the food still wafted around you, and the sound of the water rushing from the sink made you think of a waterfall sometimes, even though doing the dishes wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable chore.

Sometimes, if you focused, you could still hear the conversation that was going on in the dining room. You didn’t intend to eavesdrop or anything, you were just curious. Usually, they’d just alk about F.E.A.S.T. or maybe reminisce about when Peter was a child. It was just nice to listen in a bit on their small talk, getting to know what Peter was like with just his aunt and no one else around.

Today’s conversation was a bit different, though.

“So have you asked her yet, Peter?” You heard Aunt May ask, piquing your interest.

“No, of course not,” Peter sighed, “With everything that’s going on, all of the clean-up throughout the city, there really hasn’t been a good time.”

“I suppose that’s fair, Pete, but you’re going to have to ask eventually. Unless you don’t want to,” You were sure they were talking about you, but you weren’t quite sure exactly what he was planning on asking you. Well, maybe. But you didn’t want to assume. You didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“I do! I really do,” Peter responded, almost outraged at the idea that he didn’t actually want to ask, “I just want it to be perfect. And you know we’re so busy. This is my first day off since everything went down with Mr. Li, so I hardly have time to plan a romantic dinner.”

“Peter, you don’t have to plan out the perfect romantic dinner, I promise.”

“But what if she says no,” He sighed, sounding defeated, “It’s dangerous to be with me. I could put her in danger. And even if I don’t, what’s going to happen when she gets sick of having to take care of me? It’s not easy to deal with me running off all the time and coming back with cuts and broken bones.”

“No, it’s not easy,” May sighed, “But she’s been here for this long. She knows what she’s getting herself into, and she’s stayed this long. Has she ever asked you to stop what you were doing or to choose between her and Spider-man?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Then she’s not going to,” May explained, and you couldn’t help but nod, even though neither of them could see you, “She’s chosen to stay this long. If she was going to leave, she would’ve done it by now.”

There was a silence creeping out of the dining room as the conversation paused. You wondered if he believed it. Because May was right. It was hard, and you worried almost constantly about Peter, but you loved him. You loved him no matter how many dates he skipped out on to go fight crime or how many nights he woke you up at two in the morning to help patch him up after a fight. And you weren’t going anywhere.

The air felt heavy, and you felt your heart tighten a little. You knew Peter was a bit insecure and anxious. You knew that sometimes he didn’t feel good enough, he was overwhelmed and he felt as though the world was on his shoulder. But you had hoped that he knew that you would never think that he wasn’t good enough.

You weren’t quite sure what to do, but you couldn’t let him think like that. Before you could even think of a plan, you were walking into the dining room.

“Oh, uh, hey,” You could tell by the look on Peter’s face that he knew that you had heard their conversation, “How much of that could you hear?”

“All of it.”

All three of you froze for just a moment, before May stood up, “Well, why don’t I go finish the dishes while you two talk.”

“Peter, you know I’m not leaving, right?” You asked, sitting next to him as May walked out of the room.

“I know,” He sighed, “I just… You deserve so much better. I’m kind of a terrible boyfriend, (Y/N). I’m not super reliable, and I know I stress you out.”

“I’m stressed because I care about you, Pete. I love you and you’re constantly putting yourself in danger, but I understand it,” You explained, grabbing his hand on the table, “I love how much you want to help everyone, and I’ll always be here when you need me. I don’t mind if you have to run out on dates, because I know you still care. And you’re not a terrible boyfriend. You’re an incredibly caring person with the world on your shoulders, and you don’t have to do that alone, Pete. I’m right here, and I’m going to stay right here.”

You could see tears welling up in his eyes like he had been waiting for years to hear that. And maybe he had. You squeezed his hand lightly, hoping to reassure him a little. He looked up at you, looking at you like you were the only person in the world. Like if he had to trade the moon and all the stars in the sky to keep you safe, he would. Like you were the only thing that has ever and would ever matter.

“I love you, Pete,” You whispered, hoping it would finally get through to him.

“I love you too,” He replied, you saw his hand slip into his pocket, his fingers nervously fidgeting with something. You could tell he still had something on his mind, and you were pretty sure you knew what it was, but you didn’t want to push him. He’d ask when he was comfortable and you didn’t want to push him before that, “You heard the whole conversation, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m sure you already know what I have to ask,” He sighed, sliding out of the chair and down to one knee, verifying your suspicions, “I wanted this to be more romantic, but, uh, well…”

You nod. You had a feeling he had already rehearsed the speech he was about to give at least twenty times, so you weren’t going to interrupt him, but you wanted to signal that he should keep going.

“(Y/N), I know it’s not easy to be with me. I’m flaky, I stay stupid stuff half the time, and I’d never wish the pressure of dating a superhero on anyone. But through all of this, you’re here, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He took a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know if I could do what I do without you. You make me feel like the weight of everything I do isn’t as much as it is. And you give me something to go home to, somewhere safe and warm. (Y/N), you’re my lifeline through all of this mess, and it would be the greatest honor of my life if you would marry me.”

You’re crying so hard by the end that you don’t even notice the ring he pulls out of his pocket. You’re too busy trying to look him in the eyes through your tears, “Of course I will.”

You dropped down to hug him, and he pulled you as close to him as he could. It was a firm hug, and you could tell he was focusing really hard on not squeezing too tight. So you hugged him tighter. You staying like that for a few moments, soaking his shirt with happy tears, before he pulled back from the hug to grab your hand and slide the ring onto your finger.

“Congratulations,” May interrupted from the doorway, a wide grin on her face and proud tears in her eyes, “Now what do you say we have some cake to celebrate?”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

The Cafe Pt.I (Rewritten Barista)

As promised, I’m working through finishing my unfinished series - and that includes the Barista AU I had written long ago. I decided it was best to rewrite it considering the first part was originally published 200+ days ago. I’m aiming for 3 parts for this “one-shot AU” but we’ll see where it goes. Please be patient with me - my academic course load is extremely heavy and finding time to write is difficult but I will finish everything I said I would. I’m actually pretty proud of this but if it flops I never wrote it :) 

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy)

Word Count: 4505 words I’m shocked (I usually get to about 1600-2000 words) 

Taglist: I’m not tagging anyone until I know people want to be tagged for this because I’m nervous and I hate being annoying!!!! If you want to be tagged for a specific pairing please let me know - I’ll try to keep track and remember to actually tag because I’m a forgetful dumbass!

Amy groggily rolled over in her bed, the amount of sleep she was getting had become oddly suspicious because she would never be able to get up before 7 on her own. She rubbed her face gently, her sheets warm and smooth against her skin. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her eyes widening in shock as she read the time on the screen.  

Monday March 30 5:40 am

“Fucking hell I thought I set an alarm!” Amy groaned as she threw the sheets to the side, huffing as she opened the clock app to see, she in fact, did not set an alarm. She sighed, shaking her head as she rushed to the bathroom. 

“Damn it Amy...you need this job…” 

She texted Zig, a mutual friend of Emily Day who introduced them their freshman year of college at Hartfeld before Amy had transferred to Belviore University in New York. Zig graduated and moved to New York and opened a small cafe, only a few years later. 

Zig, I’m going to be late. I missed my alarm this morning. I swear I’ll stay for closing and I won’t be late tomorrow. 

LMAO, Amy if you didn’t set an alarm just say that, I had a feeling this would happen so I told you we opened an hour before we actually do. We don’t open until 7 on Mondays, just Tuesdays-Fridays. 

I am literally going to murder you 0_0. You should prepare to be launched into outer space for this crime. 

Lol I look forward to it - see you at 7. 

Amy turned on the shower, as she grabbed a towel and her shower products from the cabinet, placing them beside the shower door. She discarded her clothes, put her shower playlist on, hopped into the shower and felt a wave of relief that she didn’t blow her first day. After Amy had performed her world tour, she stepped out of the shower with a shiver, the cool air a contrast to her very hot skin. She wrapped herself in the fuzzy towel, briefly glancing at the time, 6:02. She walked out of the bathroom, dropping the towel onto the floor as she opened her closet while she scanned her options for a “casual” outfit that would suffice. She put on her favorite bra and underwear, something about the red lingerie made her feel confident, before she slipped into a pair of dark blue denim skinny jeans. She paired the pants with a black t-shirt as she smiled at herself in the mirror. 

“Not bad Amy, not bad at all.” 

She walked over to her small vanity, one she had built with her father as a teenager over the summer before she left for college. It was one of her most prized possessions, one of the only things she had to remind her of him before he disappeared without a trace. She closed her eyes, recalling the memory fondly before she began to apply a small amount of makeup, just enough to hide her tiredness from the public. She stood from the desk, pleased with her appearance as she made her way to the small apartment kitchen. The empty beer bottles and ps4 controllers cluttered the kitchen as Amy smiled, having remembered celebrating the job with her suitemate Lily. She threw the bottles away and plugged the remotes in for a charge, Lily would thank her for that later. She opened the freezer, making herself two premade waffles as she checked her social media. It might have partially been the exhaustion but those waffles were the best Amy ever had, she wiped her mouth clean and grabbed her bag from the nearby chair. She shot a brief text to Lily, to let her know she hadn’t been kidnapped.

Morning Lily! I went to the cafe for work, just so you don’t end up thinking I got myself kidnapped. Love you, see you tonight! Try not to drink all of the alcohol. 

Amy followed Zig’s text directions through the streets of the city, the bustle of traffic, the mass of pedestrians and the loud construction noises distracting Amy from her path. Amy had never really been in New York’s financial district before, the other civilians' appearances shifting from “Naked Cowboy of Times Square” to “Businessman” only a few streets apart. She glanced at her phone as it instructed her to take a right.

“Oof-” 

Amy jolted at the scalding hot coffee that was hot on her skin, her head turning to meet a woman’s irritated gaze, taking note of the coffee cup that was in her hands. She was dressed like all the other businessmen and women who passed by - her maroon suit now covered in coffee as she huffed in annoyance. Amy met her deep brown eyes that burned right through her, her whole body freezing up as she watched the woman’s lips move. Amy stood in a daze, only coming back to herself when the woman waved her hand in front of her, her face filled with exasperation. 

“I’m so sorry. It’s my first day and I’m kind of lost-”

“Watch where you’re going, this suit is probably worth more than you.” Her voice was silky and satisfying, and oddly soothing given the fact she had probably just stained a $2,000 suit. Amy rushed to open her wallet, holding out a wet 50$ to the woman. The business woman scoffed as she walked away, leaving Amy in a confused state outside of the cafe. 

“Fuck.” Amy sighed, moving to collect her bag as she walked through the cafe door, Zig raised his eyebrows at her as she made her way behind the counter. 

“Well that’s a look.” He jested, Amy turning her head and giving him a death glare as he tossed an apron to her. “Nobody will notice, you can cover it with this. There’s paper towels in the back.” Amy dropped her bag in the break room, gently wiping the coffee away and putting the surprisingly fashionable apron on. When she walked out from the back her jaw dropped as she spotted the woman from earlier standing on the other side of the counter. Their eyes met and the woman’s gaze quickly changed from annoyed to very annoyed at the sight of Amy. 

“Kamilah, you’re back. Wanted to pick up some date-nut pinwheels?” 

“No, I need another black coffee.” She turned back to Zig with a smile, he gave a small nod as Amy began to brew the coffee for her. She placed the lid carefully onto the fresh cup and handed it out to the woman, their fingers brushing for a moment, a blush creeping onto Amy’s cheeks. 

“Thank you.” Her tone was less aggressive than it had been in their first encounter, Amy finally calm enough to take note of the woman’s features. Her brown silky hair that looked like it belonged in a conditioner commercial, her defined jawline and subtle eyeshadow that accentuated her eyes. She watched the way her lips moved as she talked to Zig, Amy feeling her heart jump at the sound of her laugh - light and golden. Amy watched her leave, every step she took she took with such confidence that Amy found herself wanting to follow her out the door. 

“You could be less obvious, you know?” Zig playfully nudged Amy, nearly knocking her over as she shook her head in denial.

“No! I wasn’t!” Amy sighed as she rubbed her temples, Zig’s infectious laugh filling the empty cafe. Amy playfully punched his shoulder as a group of well dressed men stepped through the threshold, Amy moving behind the register to take their orders. The day passed, Amy learning how oddly specific some people like their coffee, and learning all of Zig’s secrets to the perfect iced coffee. Amy looked at the clock as Zig walked to lock the front door - finally closing time. 

“Some of these orders...like ‘I’ll have the grande iced mocha no foam soy hexagon vortex hypotenuse’” Amy waved her hands around as Zig tried to contain a laugh, wiping down the counter as Amy hung her apron up.

“Amy you’re horrible.” Zig made a good attempt at seriousness, their eyes meeting before they continued to laugh which made closing pass by much faster. Zig grabbed the mass of leftover desserts from their respective containers, hovering them over the garbage before Amy stopped him.

“Oh, did you want these?” 

“No, but I can find a better place for them than the trash.” 

“Where? Your stomach?”

“No, the food bank is on the route back to my apartment. We shouldn’t be wasteful, and besides - who wouldn’t love a raspberry crown?” 

“You’ve got a point. I’ll bag these for you then, if you could sweep the floor and put the chairs on the tables that’d be great.” 

When all the cleaning and closing procedures were done Amy headed for the door with her bag in hand, Zig gently tapping her shoulder and holding out an envelope, a key to the cafe and the bag of desserts.

“Okay so I know what’s in here but what is this? A resignation letter?” Amy pouted her bottom lip as Zig rolled his eyes so far back Amy wasn’t sure if they’d come back.

“It’s your share of the tips from today, and the wrapped pastries. Thanks for that suggestion by the way, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself.” Zig rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around the pristine cafe, the windows reflecting the moonlight and the tile shimmering as if it were just installed. “Bloody hell, the place looks good...no great. Thank you Amy. Come on let's get outta here, go home - I’ll see you tomorrow at 6. Actually, let me make sure you set 3 different alarms, give me your phone.” Zig held out his hand after he locked the front door, Amy reluctantly handing her iphone over as he set 3 different alarms, all 5 minutes apart. He looked up at her for a moment, smirking before handing her phone back to her and walking off into the city. Amy rolled her eyes, he probably took a selfie on her camera but when she went to check, there was nothing but memes and occasional group photos -what did Zig smirk at then? Amy was too tired to think of it, she made a swift beeline to the food bank, opening the doors and dropping the brown bag of desserts off before making her trip back to the apartment. 

The door opened with a creak, all of the lights turned off as Amy carefully navigated to her room. She switched her lamp on, letting it provide a dim light that didn’t blind Amy because of its intensity. She tossed her bag onto the bed, as she pulled her shirt over her head in one rapid motion. She desperately stripped, throwing her dirty clothes into the laundry basket as she changed into clean lingerie. She slipped into her favorite pair of pajama shorts and pulling her favorite hoodie over her bra - shirts were overrated anyways. Amy crawled onto her bed, crossing her legs while she put her headphones on, pulling up her favorite late-night playlist and letting the slowed music soothe her. She caught a glance at the envelope Zig had given her, she reached over for it and opened it carefully - baffled at the amount of cash laying inside. She slowly laid each bill out, counting the total twice to make sure she hadn’t miscalculated. Working at a cafe in New York’s financial district was definitely going to help her and Lily catch up on their rent and not get evicted. She smiled, tucking away 25% for herself, taking enough for her share of the rent and putting the rest into her locked safe - she’d been saving for a trip to Hawaii since she graduated. She stifled a yawn, closing the safe and tucking herself back into her warm sheets, taking her headphones off and closing her eyes for the night. 

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The alarm woke Amy up with it’s loud and very obnoxious beeping, Amy wanting nothing more than to throw the phone into the thermosphere. She drowsily stood from her bed, gently tucking the sheets neatly back into place as she turned off the following alarms. She sighed, rubbing her head as she changed into a simple outfit and left out the door to the cafe.

Amy arrived at the cafe, unlocked the front door and turned the lights on, relocking the door behind her because she didn’t need anyone startling her. She moved behind the counter, dropping her bag in the lounge and putting an apron on. She checked the coffee filters, gave the blenders a good washing, set out creamer, sugar and other coffee essentials on the counter and filled supplies back up. Zig suddenly walked through the door, a smile on his face as Amy finished supplying the countertop and putting the pastries out on display, letting Zig prepare himself for opening. 

“You’re early. I’m shocked. College Amy is having a stroke right now.” Amy knocked him in the side, Zig falling back a few steps as he shook his head and put his hands in the air in surrender. “Alright alright no need for violence, come on, let’s open.” Zig turned the “open” sign on and only a minute later did Kamilah appear in the cafe, her suit perfectly fitted, her hair smoothly cascading around her head and down her shoulders and her face relaxed and composed. 

“Good morning Kamilah, what can I get for you?” Zig gestured to the display of desserts and the variety of coffee combinations on the menu above their heads. Kamilah smiling as Zig waved his hands back and forth, Kamilah letting out a soft chuckle. 

“Just a large black coffee and maybe a date-nut pinwheel.” Kamilah spoke to Zig in almost a tender way, as if they were siblings or long-term friends. Amy selected a pinwheel, gently placing it into a small bag and sliding it over the counter towards Kamilah as she began to brew the coffee. 

“How’s Ahmanet Financial?” Zig leaned over the counter, his defined arms nearly breaking through the sleeves of his white shirt. Kamilah tucked the pinwheel bag into a hidden pocket on the inside of her blazer before she turned back to face Zig.

“It’s very successful, our stocks are soaring and we just secured a new business partner.” Kamilah looked proud and for good reason - Ahmanet financial was one of the most powerful corporations out there. Amy topped her coffee off with a lid and handed it to her, their eyes meeting for a moment before Amy turned away, feeling her cheeks turning hot. Kamilah checked her watch, a movado 47 rose gold watch that cost way more than anything Amy had ever come close to owning. “Zig I’d love to chat some other day but I’m afraid I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.”

She quickly made her way out the door, the bell ringing softly as Kamilah strided away. Amy leaned over the counter with a sigh, Zig nudging her softly. 

“You could be less obvious Amy,” his annoying face smirking at Amy as she rolled her eyes, “you used to be so slick back in college.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Amy threw an empty coffee cup at him as a blonde girl walked into the cafe, her eyes glued to her phone as she recited her order at a rate that nobody could understand. Amy sighed, Zig giving her a pained glance as she went to mix the complicated coffee order. Amy fought back a laugh as Zig found a way to run away to the back when the girl asked for his phone number. Once Amy finished mixing her coffee and sent her out the cafe doors Zig poked his head out of the lounge - his eyes scanning for her.

“Is she gone?” Amy snorted as Zig stepped out from the doorway, his hands running through his hair as he let his shoulders relax. “My god I hate teenagers - they turn eighteen and all of a sudden think they can fuck anyone. I’m like 5 years older than her at least!” 

“Relax buddy, let’s just get through the rest of the day. I’ll handle all the teenage brats and you can handle all the nasty men.” Amy gave him a cheeky grin as they teamwork-ed their way through the rest of the day.

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“Finally.” Amy rested the broom on the wall, taking in the pristine cafe as Zig finished wiping down the counters. “What a day.” 

“Thank god it’s over.” 

“Zig?”

“Yeah?”

“Does Kamilah always come by the cafe right when we open?”

Zig perked his head up, his brows raised to the top of his head as Amy felt a blush creep up her cheeks, her hands growing sweaty as Zig remained silent. 

“She always comes as soon as we open, she has to be at work early since she is the CEO. Although she never rests, despite everything I’ve told her.” Zig’s head shot to his phone as it buzzed, a text from Emily appearing on the screen and Zig hastily typed away.

“Everything okay Zig?” Amy had a worried expression on her face as Zig let out a long sigh. 

“There’s a road trip for Kaitlyn’s band that leaves in two days that lasts for a week that our group is going on and I can’t go because I need to run the cafe-”

“I can handle it for a week.” Amy spoke firmly, Zig’s eyes widening before he let out a chuckle.

“What if you burn it down?”

“I won’t but then I guess you just have to trust me. Come on Zig - you need a break and you damn well know it. Get out of here for a week.”

“I hate that you’re right. Fine, but if the cafe isn’t standing when I get back, you’re toast.” They both laughed and finished up closing. 

Amy walked towards the food bank, a brisk breeze prompting her to make it one speedy trip so she could bask in her heated apartment. A shriek came from the alley as Amy turned her gaze to see where the yell had come from, a red pair of eyes looking right at her in the darkness. She felt her heart beating out of her chest as she forced her feet to a run, her heart pounding like a drum and ringing in her ears as she huffed through the front doors of the bank - placing the bag on the counter and racing back to her apartment without turning back. 

“Hey girl how was-” Lily sat on the couch with a coke in her hand and the television remote in the other, her smile fading as she met Amy’s eyes. “Amy, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost…”

“I think I’m just hallucinating from exhaustion,” Amy dropped her bag on the floor and took a seat on the couch beside Lily, “anyways tell me about you. We haven’t really had time since we both started working more.”

“Well you should sleep soon but I think we’ll be able to hold the rent for the next few months - with all the money you’re bringing in now in addition to the money my app has started to bring in - I think we’ll be more than fine.” Lily nudged her shoulder, offering Amy a can of coke with a smile as The Vampire Diaries played on the TV. 

“Vampires are so overrated.” Amy groaned as she watched Lily’s eyes become glued to the screen.

“Some of us have taste you know.”

“No, it’s because they’re not real Lily, and the fact that no vampire would ever be attracted to me.” 

Lily rolled her eyes as Amy sipped on her coke, both of them laughing late into the night and being good friends in what had felt like a long time. 

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Amy unlocked the cafe doors and shuffled inside, locking the door behind her and leaving her bag on the counter. She hit the light switch as the lights slowly came flickering on as she tied the apron around the back of her neck. She quickly started and finished the morning set-up, the routine becoming second nature since Amy had always been a fast learner. She checked her phone, 6:49 am April 1, 2020. 

“April fools day.” Amy smiled as she contemplated setting up a whipped cream prank on Zig, but decided not to against her deepest desire to see his shocked face. While thinking of ways to mess with Zig through the day, her mind came to test a theory - she began preparing two black coffees - before adding her own twists to one of them. Amy finished and admired her handiwork - the cups looked identical and Kamilah wouldn’t notice until she tasted it. 

Kamilah walked in, her eyes scanning the cafe for Zig as she took a cautious step towards Amy who had a cute little grin on her face.

“Good morning Kamilah, here’s your coffee.” Amy handed her a black coffee, the one she had adjusted ever so slightly. She watched as Kamilah brought the cup to her lips, almost taking a sip, before she lowered the cup and leaned her face closer to Amy. 

“What did you do to it? It smells different, and where’s Zig?” Kamilah arched a brow as Amy silently wondered how Kamilah could smell the difference.

“I took a twist with it, I made you your regular too in case you hate it...I just thought you should broaden your horizons…and Zig is coming. He just needs to pack, he’ll be gone after today for a week and I’ll be running the cafe.” Amy smiled softly at the woman who was now leaning dangerously close. 

“I see. And if I hate it?”

“Then I’ll pay for both and I’ll never try to broaden your horizons again…” Amy frowned slightly as Kamilah finally sipped on the drink - her brown eyes widening as she took another, and another.

“It’s...actually pretty good...what did you do to it?” Kamilah took another sip as Amy bounced on her heels, a wide childish grin written across her face. 

“I added a bit of cream and sugar and a bit of caramel! It’s how I like mine!” Amy took her hands behind her back and fiddled with them nervously as Kamilah smiled. Zig walked in just as the clock read 8:05 am and Kamilah left, turning at the door to smile at Amy one last time, lifting the cup up with a smile before entering her car. 

“What’s that smile about Amy?” Zig wagged his fingers at Amy with a classic smirk as he prepared for the shift, Amy resting her head on both of her hands while she leaned over the counter - her legs kicking out behind her. 

“Nothing.” Amy sighed and went back to brewing coffee, her hands aimlessly performing while her mind sat on nothing but the thought of Kamilah - and her damned perfect smile. 

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Amy tossed her shoes off as she made her way through the apartment door, one shoe nearly knocking Lily’s head off as she pulled freshly fried chicken from the air fryer. 

“Lily that smells AMAZING!” Amy squealed and made her way over to her, Lily slapping her hand away as she finished the two plates of waffles off with a chicken breast and syrup. “I swear I’ve got the best best friend…” Lily smiled as they both dug into the food, chatting away about their day until Amy let it slip out.

“And there’s this really hot customer-”

“Oh! Spill!” Lily wiggled in her seat like a child, eagerly waiting for Amy to elaborate as Amy stuffed her face with the rest of her waffles. “I’ll wait for you to finish.” Lily smirked and held Amy in an uncomfortable eye contact until Amy finally caved in. 

“She comes in at opening time every single day, and always orders a black coffee. Although I got her to try something new today which I’m really proud of.” The subtle smile that crept up Amy’s face gave it all away to Lily as she let her ramble on, whilst she gave Amy the smirk she hated. “I’m simping aren’t I?”

“There’s nothing wrong with simping. But you have a chance here because Zig won’t be there so you can actually like...take your shot without him ever having to know,” Lily winked and whispered, “and you could totally fuck her in the back-”

“NOPE!” Amy stood up frantically, Lily holding her sides for support and nearly falling out of her chair as Amy rushed to clear her plate. “I hate you! Ohmygoddddddd.” Amy groaned as Lily fell to the floor, her eyes wet with tears at Amy’s reaction more than anything else.

“I’m going to bed!!” 

“Goodnight! Love you Ames!!!”

“Love you too….annoying ass!” 

Amy snorted as she changed into her sleepwear, her body becoming exhausted as she hit the mattress, falling asleep ridiculously fast. 

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Kamilah came through the door, right on time as Amy had come to expect. Amy gazed up from her phone, those dark brown eyes looking right at her as she handed Kamilah her usual black coffee, Kamilah holding it closely before clearing her throat. 

“Can I have the one from yesterday as well?” Amy smiled at her as she began to mix her favorite coffee - Kamilah leaning over the counter to observe. 

“I didn’t think you’d want it again.” Amy said as she added creamer to the mix, the coffee turning golden as she mixed it. 

“A woman can’t appreciate a little variety in her life?” Kamilah leaned against the counter, her hair smoothly gliding over her maroon blazer as she tossed it back - taking a sip from her cup.

“No I just-” Amy topped the cup off with a bit of caramel before enclosing it with the lid, her hands sweaty as she handed it to Kamilah. 

“You just?”

“Thought you’d always like your coffee like your personality.” 

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

The way Kamilah was looking at Amy, she knew she had to choose her next words carefully. 

“Dark, intimidating, a bit bitter at first sip,” Amy hesitated as Kamilah raised a brow, “an...acquired taste.”

“You’re intimidated by me?” 

“Just a little…”

“Hmm, I suppose your coffee is like you if you want to expand your little analogy.” Kamilah glanced at her watch, her expression shifting from playful to work-oriented. Amy felt her heart drop a little as she recomposed herself - back to her refined and disciplined self. Kamilah made her way to the door, the two cups of coffee in her hands as she paused, turning back and looking at Amy - something different about it.

“It’s...sweet and comforting,” her voice was soft as she spoke, Amy’s cheeks turning very red, “like you.” 

[familyvisionis2020]

Day 6 - The Drive Home

Today was the last day of tour. I wake up in the morning feeling guilty because I have a groggy memory of waking up around 8 to go to the bathroom, Paul was waiting to go, but when the person came out I just fronted him (a word I just now remember from elementary school, cut in line, but southern), used the bathroom and went back to bed. Rude. I am wiping the cold from my eye, taking in the undecorated walls of the apartment, and Jeremy comes from down the hall and says ‘Did you get the memo? Louisville cancelled. Tour’s over.” I said ‘fuck’ and processed it. I feel sad for Jeremy and John and Kabir because I know they wanted to play this last show in Kentucky. It’s not that I didn’t, but also for the last three months and for especially the last month I have been feeling a tremendous amount of anxiety about this tour, about feeling out-of-control, about being away from loved ones at home, about being available to show up for people in my life, about completing regular routines of hygiene and spirituality and task completion that make me feel boring and comfortable, both. Touring stirs up dredges of the tea leaves that I had let settle into a fine filmy sediment at the bottom of me. I manufactured a jello mold two years ago and poured myself into it: regular 9-5 in the legal field as a means and precursor to law school, then diligent study for 3 years, then a professional career, abandoning the party life, abandoning trespassing in abandoned buildings, abondoning the luxury of resentment and unproductive time, trying to cool and firm into something reliable, serviceable, dependable, available, a resource people could draw from for once, rather than a leech or slug. And when I go on tour I take that jello mold out of the fridge and it holds its shape but also it warms and the longer I’m out the more liquidy it gets and sloshes over the sides and so forth. So I’m ambivalent because I like what I have to offer to this band, I like the physical process of drumming and expressing myself in the context of music and being a member of a band, but also I feel like I’ve kind of chilled enough and it’s time to settle down. And I’m at a way different point in my life than the other guys in the band it seems like, for the most part. So anyways all this to contextualize the fact that the news of tour ending even earlier than early honestly makes me feel relieved, if not happy, and so then I work to temper that boosted mood for the sake of grim decorum befitting a tour taken before its time. 

All our stuff is locked in the venue from last night and we learn we won’t be able to pick it up until 1pm and so we have about 4 hours to kill in the apartment. Phillip puts on a pot of coffee that will turn out to be some of the wateriest on record, but still, a super kind gesture, and then he also puts on The Wire on HBO Go and we just settle in on the couch and watch for awhile. Some of the scenes are familiar, there’s something seductive about this show, and it brings me back to the precise moment of Summer of 2013 right before I moved to Philadelphia right after I got evicted from the squat/music venue I had been living in that winter and spring, I watched all episodes of The Wire on DVD on Matt Martin’s couch at 3 Pomroy and felt deeply depressed. It ranks up there with when I watched all released episodes of The Office in bed in the winter of 2009 after my girlfriend broke up with me, in terms of memorably devestating life phases offset by the amniotic fluid of full-series of TV. So we watch The Wire and I find myself not too inclined to sit and watch and I want to write so I sit at my laptop on the table nearby and write an email to a female (sorry) but I actually do and its purpose is to make her smile and bring some levity and play and purple prose to a moment in her life that, from how she tells it to me, is just so heavy, nightmares and waking horror and a future that feels like it hangs by a thread. so I’m glad to spend time showing up for her in this small way rather than watching The Wire, and also I write yesterday’s blog post, another activity that feels sort of like a pittance but also like: doing-writing is something I have been putting off, in phases and seasons, for my entire adult life, because to me nothing ever matters enough to write about, or if it does my perspective is deficient, or my research inadequate, or my skill incommensurate with the subject matter, or it won’t properly reflect my feelings, or any number of self-sabotaging excuses to not do this thing I so love doing, and love sharing. So for me, writing this blog is a very meaningful and special act of reclamation of a personal mode of expression that constitutes a break in my winter’s depression and what feels like a new phase of happiness, of believing-i-have-a-future, of feeling more authoratative and qualified to know and describe my own experience in a lifetime marred and dampened by dissociation, oblivion, amnesia, and fugue. So it feels like nourishment to get some paragraphs done and to move slow through my days, get them onto the page.

The Wire grows tiresome at some point and Jeremy fires up the PS4 and then the PS3 looking for games but none are multiplayer and so eventually he settles on Skyrim and starts from a new file. Me personally I love watching let’s plays and this is as good as TV. There was a moment last tour when we were in this strange small town in Connecticut called Torrington (the town all touring bands are required to go to, we also joked), in this town Jeremy was describing the sort of surrealness he experienced there and he said he felt like the townspeople in Torrington were like NPCs in a FPS RPG like Skyrim wherein you would go up to people and press A to talk, say ‘What news?” and that I thought was really funny then, I like his sense of humor. Really Kabir and Jeremy and Royal represent this sort of humor that is to me equal parts razor wit, cleverness, timing, accents, absurdity, and broad conceptual placticity, all for the most part very clean too, never or at least rarely blue (you’re gonna inevitably make a D’s nuts joke and that’s just that). And during happy times I am so grateful to be nearby this humor and during less happy times I get self conscious about how great their humor is and how I sometimes feel like I don’t measure up. But that feeling doesn’t weigh for long. Skyrim is fun to watch, it kills some time, we all take turns trying to kill wolves with swords before Jeremy finally does it, there’s a dragon, we loot corpses, discuss Bloodborne and Dark Souls and comparable games. A lot of the main media activity in this group is discussing how a given media relates to another media, Kabir and Jeremy and John know it seems like everything between the three of them when it comes to record labels, band narratives, artist’s hometowns, etc. So we play Skyrim for awhile, and then eventually it’s time to go to the venue and we drive back to The Salty Nut, load in all our gear, do a final sweep, and say our goodbyes and thankyous to Phillip. We return to the Bandido place one last time for one last round of free local Taco Bell which we absolutely scarf and are very vocally grateful to the people for giving it to us for free again, it’s clear they really put effort into being hospitable to touring bands here, at least through Phillip. His band, Thomas Function, was signed on Fat Possum Records, which also had bigger indie acts like Jay Reatard (who Phillip tells a story about him demanding $50,000 in cash for a show fee to feed his coke and heroin habit, Reatard died at age 29 from cocaine toxicity with alcohol also), The Black Keys, Andrew Bird, Wavves and Soccer Mommy, but which Kabir postulates has most of its success due to having signed octogenarian southern blues legends like R.L. Burnside and King Ernest and raking in royalties from what Kabir speculates is due to poor management of the estates of these dead leagends who each had more than a dozen children. It’s truly fascinating for me to hear how deep and complex the analysis of music these guys have is. When I feel insecure, which is often, I tend to veneer these sorts of expertises and shibboleths among music-heads as snobby, elitist, exclusionary, petty and asinine. But I think most of that comes from a fear that I lack the insight, cognitive absorbency, and passionate research skills to collate and catalog data about artists in the way these people do, the way my bandmates do. I feel inspired to take time to dig deeper into the musicans I love, to make them real to me, to get a sense of their story, their lived experience, for the sake of corroding the mediation between us somewhat, or at least polishing the media membrane. 

I volunteer to drive for the first half of what will end up being about a 10-hour drive back from Huntsville to Chapel Hill. We go to a Whole Foods in Huntsville upon Kabir’s insistence where I purchase a nootropic snakeoil energy affair in beverage form, Kabir gets hot coffee and a La Colombe Draft can of latte, Jeremy gets a kombucha made from yerba mate (“best of both worlds” he says), John black coffee as per, and Kabir also buys a slice of Tres Leches cake in a clear plastic to-go clamshell: “they can take away my tour, but they can’t take away my tres leches.” Later he’s eating it in the van and he accidentally spills some on himself and he says “shit…spilled some on myself. oh good, it was only one leche” which to me is so funny and perfect humor and just like kind of a paragon of the kind of joke I so treasure from this friend group. Another is when Jeremy and Kabir are recalling a favorite running joke from two tours ago, wherein they were in Philly, home to the famous Schuykill River (pronounced skoo-kill, at least when i lived there, at least around the non-indigenous people i knew), and while there they would affect this blaring Brooklyn accent, deployed heavily on this trip as well for basically any purpose, but back then they would say “UGH MY SKOYKL IS KILLING ME” like Schuykill was lombago or sciatica and also would say “YEAH LET ME GET A KWATA POUND OF SKOYKL ON RYE” like it was a deli meat, and they laughed and laughed. Also they liked doing rhyming jokes like last night there was a chair nearby the combo amp Tired Frontier was going to use for their set and Kabir goes ‘amp on the chair, tone everywhere’ and then I say ‘amp on the ground, makes a bad sound’ and then I tell Jeremy later how Kabir would put me in good spirits whenever I was describing to someone how my LSAT score is very competitive but my checkered past makes the acceptance process a little less than straightforward, and Kabir would see I was getting kinda down and anxious, and he would say ‘You gotta break the law before you make the law,’ and we all laugh and I love that, the function of humor as balm, salve. I want to wield my humor like that.

The drive back is fine, some sprinkles, nothing major, clear traffic for the most part, I feel like I have a good command of the van, keep it around 75 for most of the trip, feel smoth and confident switching lanes, passing, etc. We do another two NYT Wednesday classic crosswords together, Kabir is getting probably 40% of the clues, me maybe 30% Jeremy and John the other 30%, Kabir will just to YEAHHHHHHHH after getting a clue and I start doing that too after Jeremy says “X down, ‘on the table’ 15 letters,” and I say UPFORDISCUSSION after only a couple seconds and it fits and is correct and I feel like a damn genius and we’re all laughing and kind of praising each other half-jokingly for being strong beautiful geniuses who also we know songs. This is a great passtime and the drive flies by and before I know it we’re in Western NC just outside of Asheville and we make a stop to refuel the tank and get dinner. We decide on a Waffle House across the street, not wanting to venture too deep into Asheville for something healthier and better because of the time and money it would likely eat up, Kabir says that FEMA uses the closing of Waffle Houses as a bellweather to indicate the severity of a given natural disaster. We go inside, the waitress says ‘ya’ll aren’t from around here are you?’ in a way that I take to be hostile and I suggest that to the guys and they seem like maybe slightly offput but not very much and we decide not to abort and I later feel foolish because I think I am doing this thing where I become excessively vigilant or sensitive to a perceived slight to a friend who is brown for the putative purpose of interceding on their behalf against racism but what’s actually happening is if someone was racist to them they could just stand up for themselves and make their own call regarding their own comfort or lack thereof and I would do better to act less motivated by white guilt when avoidable. That passes, it’s fine, we eat hash browns and waffles and eggs and grits and toast and cover everything in tobasco and tip well and get back on the road, John takes over for the final stretch. 

I return a call from Marty and catch him up about tour being cancelled and we discuss our fears and hysteria and cancellations and reaction and so forth. Marty remarks that he is a gravedigger during the plague, which is the best possible job to have. It’s not a joke because he actually drives a backhoe working for a cemetary and digs actual graves, super weird and eminently punk/goth and kind of a curiosity but really perfect for the lead singer of one of the South’s premiere punk bands, especially after his being fired from the swish cafe he worked at in Richmond before that. I love Marty and catching up and it feels good to hear his voice. After I get off the phone it sort of becomes campfire spooky story time in the van with everyone proffering their take on the panic, market failure, the likelihood of Capitalism as a superstructure to require perpetual growth even at the peril or death of its working class, the superior response to covid that South Korea and Norway seem to have mounted, a lot of fear of financial insecurity. Eventually this digresses to talk of touring, and the guys discuss all manner of various routes throught the South, Midwest, Northeast, plains states, PNW, Mexico City, Jeremy says ‘I can get us a show in Colombia’ which he can, Argentina or Venezuela through a mutual friend, then Europe so long as the label foots the bill for the plane ticket, then Japan, setting up camp on Honshu would make it easy to hit TOkyo, Kyoto, Osaka and Nagoya no problem, except where exactly are people playing shows? there’s gotta be somewhere all these Japanese Noise and Hardcore bands are getting gigs, and then from there of course it’s not hard to get to Australia, John knows a band there, and they go all around the world and this is stressing me out a little bit, only because I wonder about how much they think I would be involved or want to go on such a theoretical tour, and the answer is I don’t 100% know. Part of me wants to say this is my last tour, lean all the way in to law school and leave behind this chapter. Part of me feels like it’s better not to make a hard and fast statement like that because what if the economy collapses and for some reason school is a no-go but being in the band becomes the most plausible source of income or something. I get anxious and psych myself out and quiet down and feel foolish and wish to be home. I fantasize about my future life of stability, but I second guess myself because I just don’t know for sure how my life will be, and want to be careful to work toward the goals I think will be the most fulfilling, self-actualizing, spiritually nourishing, healthy for me; I also want to not forsake the friendships and bonds I’ve forged in these weird intimate moments in the van with the guys. I have the wherewithal to know that nobody is requiring me to make a decision right this second, and that as time passes it’s likely that the best course of action will be revealed one way or another if I can keep from panicking. So I watch videos of the 2019 Classic Tetris World Championships on my phone, eat two candy bars, watch videos of a streamer named Wumbotize play the latest Tetris game, Tetris Effect (2018, PS4, PC), and am pleasantly awed by how crazily far the skill curve of that game has shot up. I have some time ahead of me that is completely free, which is so nice. Before I know it I’m back home in my clean apartment which is tidy like a tetris field at the beginning of a new game and I get into my bed and lay down flat and if my bed is the well than the line of me clears and the well is clean, smooth, primed, for whatever falls tomorrow. 

[justwanna-write]

M.C. Spider-Man au

AN: I actually really love this one, it’s cute and fluffy! Siren!ashton pt.2 will be out in the next couple of days!

Word count: 1312

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Dripping wet, you push the front door to your apartment open. Shaking off a bit as you enter you throw your keys in a bowl on the counter. With an exhausted sigh you slide your feet out of your boots, and hang your jacket on a hook over the vent. Finally home you start to settle in and calm down from your day of work stress.

Just as you flipped the light switch in the kitchen on, a loud thump sounded from your bedroom followed by a series of smaller thumps then a whispered cuss. Immediately you quieted down and stared towards you bedroom door. Without looking away from the door, you slide your hand into one of the drawers, pulling out a wooden rolling pin. Then without stopping to close the drawer, you quietly begin creeping towards the door. You hold the pin above your head with your dominant hand, and grasped the handle with your free hand. In one quick fluid motion you push open the door and step inside.

Upon your entry a tall figure, bending over slightly with his hands on waist, freezes. As your eyes begin to adjust , you realize that the figure is facing away from where you're standing in the entryway. He’s wearing a suit that although is dirty, covered in blood, and scraped up is still immediately recognizable as your towns well known and loved superhero.

“S-Spider-Man?” You asked quietly, lowering the pin you had taken for protection. At the sound of your voice, he flinched, and raised his head just enough for you to be able to tell he was without his mask. It showed off a head of blonde hair longer on one side. A head of hair recognize even quicker than Spider-Man’s outfit. Hair that you’ve run your fingers through. Hair that tickles your neck, and face most nights.

“Mikey?” You breathed even quieter. The hero flinched again at the nickname before half turning to look at you, hands still clutching at his waist. He turned just enough for you to see the side of his face confirming to you that your boyfriend of several months, and your cities hero were one and the same. Your eyes roam over his stubbles covered jaw, and light pink lips before looking up at his eyes. Michael’s green eyes studied your face carefully, his eyebrows pulled together. He looked almost worried or scared.

“H-hey (y/n)” he stuttered out, giving you a small awkward smile. You simply stood there staring at him, unable to process until he turned to you fully. As he turns, he winces slightly keeping his hands holding on to his side. The sight of blood staining his hands, and seeping out of in between his fingers quickly shook you out of your crimen state.

“Oh my god, you’re hurt.” You gasp stepping towards him, grabbing one of his wrists, and pulling it away to get a better look. You lower the rolling pin down till its hanging limply in your hand as you investigate the long cuts on his side. Michael watches you curiously, then his eyes trail down to the dropped hand and what it contained.

“Were you gonna attack me with a rolling pin?” He teased lightly. Your face flushed quickly, before you tossed the pin onto the bed.

“I thought you were a serial killer, or something.” You mumbled, and pressed his hand back onto the injury. “ I heard a noise, and wasn’t gonna come in empty handed.” You explained before slowing to a stop, and looking back up to his face. “ wait, what are you doing here anyways?” You questioned lightly.

“green goblin got a good swipe in on me, and your apartment was closer than mine.” He sighed before continuing. “I knew your mom got you that big first aid kit for christmas, cause your so clumsy. Plus I thought you would be at work for another hour.” He finished. He looked down at you with confusion written all over his face.

“I was supposed to be.” You confirmed, drawing your hands back in front of you before continuing. “But, somebody had a fight downtown, and they released us early to reduce civilian casualties.” You stated pointedly at him as he looks slightly ashamed. “Now let's get you cleaned up. I’m gonna go grab the kit, you know where your extra clothes are.” You instructed before grabbing the pin once more, and leaving the room. Immediately after walking back into the kitchen, your thoughts start to race. Thoughts and worries about dating a hero accosted you.

Shaking your head to clear it, you place the rolling pin down on the counter next to the bowl with your keys in it before walking towards the bathroom. You pull the bathroom door open, and start moving things around searching for the large first aid kit. A small noise escapes your lips as you find it hidden behind a basket full of lotions. After flicking the light switch back off, you stride back into your bedroom, pushing in the door. Michael was sitting on the corner of your bed, wearing a pair of fuzzy teenage mutant ninja turtle pajama bottoms he had left days before. He hadn’t yet put a shirt, and was inspecting his injuries, occasionally poking at various bruises and scratches.

Once you walked in he raised his head up, and looked at you his green eyes meeting you (e/c) ones. You place the kit down on the bed beside him, and clicked open the locks on the side of it. Flipping the top open you rummage around in the box, you grab and pull out gauze, medical tape, and an antiseptic. Crouching down in front of him, you Gently pull his hands away from the lightly weeping slashes.

“This is going to sting a bit.” You warned before starting to clean michaels wounds. The moment you pressed the peroxide soaked pad to his side causing him to intake a breath making a sharp hissing noise. other then that, he made very little noise, and quietly let you take care of his many injuries.

“So uh… Spider-Man huh?” Finally broaching the topic on your mind. Using the tape you press on a length of gauze, slowing the bleeding. A glance up at his face told you he was staring at you face again, the worried look was back.

“I wanted to tell you… but I never could figure out how,” he said in a rush. You slowed you bandaging to a stop at his outburst, but he continued on. “I worry about you so much, what if i put you in danger? What if someone finds out you know? And then there's telling you, I mean how am I supposed to tell the girl I love that I’m a superhero. That just being with me might put her in danger.” After he finished his sentence, he snapped his jaw shut, blush flooding his face as he realized what he revealed. You stared up at him considering how to move from here.

“Did you mean that?” You ask nearly whispering.

“What?” He responded confusedly.

“Mikey, did you mean it?” You repeated. His blush darkened as he slowly nodded. That’s all it took, you leaned forward and captured his lips in a short kiss. Pulling your face away only to press your forehead to his, and nuzzled his nose with your own.

“I love you too Mikey.” You breathed, pressing another warm kiss onto his lips, that he quickly reciprocated. “Don't worry, I’m not going anywhere.” You crawled up onto the bed laying down pulling him down with you, and holding on tightly.

“Hold on, weren’t you playing the new Spider-Man game on the ps4 just the other day?” You asked into his pale neck then looked back up at his face.

Oh there's that blush again….

[star-nova]

The Lives of the RiffRaff:  Sophia Bolshevik-Elsie’s Boyfriend

Previous: 

We Are the RiffRaff Rickie Johnson-The Art of War Vera Sherwood-Little Sister Kali Muburu-Hair Tracy Kwan-Vergil Franz Fawke-Hecklers James Weaver-The Preacher Mamoru Hayagawa-Three Weddings Charmain Dekker-Frankfort Talia Santiago-Queen of the City

(WARNING: Depictions of rape/sexual assault) 

In a town like Tanager, your business is everyone else's business. It's because there aren't enough people, and therefore not enough businesses, to mind only your own. The only way to keep your neighbors' watchful eyes away from you was to do everything by their specific codes; follow the pack, never take the road less traveled, and never do anything that may be considered “against the grain.” Small-towners are so starved for difference because it's so rare, yet at the same time, they're afraid of it. If you stood out at all, you were the subject of both fascination and horror, and therefore you were labeled a troublemaker.

In Tanager, I stood out because I tried too hard not to stand out. I've always been quiet, preferring not to speak or have others speak to me, and if somebody did speak to me, I tended to lock up because I had no idea what to say. To not know what to say was considered a crime in Tanager, where everyone always had something to say. Not only that, but they thought I was childish. At twenty-three, I still played with dolls and chased butterflies and jumped rope in the park with my sister and Ellia. I didn't understand why you were expected to stop having fun for fun's sake once you reached the age of adulthood. If anything, your sense of wonder should increase as you're more and more able to see the world for what it is.

In Frankfort, we could jump rope in the park and watch the people pass by without so much as a glance in our direction. We could start up games of tag and hop along the stepping stones in the brook, and no one asked why we were darting around “like we ain't got nowhere to go,” as our neighbors would put it. I could catch all of the butterflies I wanted and no one paid me any mind. In such a big city with so many businesses blended together, you don't have the time or energy to mind anybody's but your own.

Frankfort was a magical place, where the unwritten rules and regulations of Tanager did not apply. In Tanager, I was often side-eyed and whispered about because of my quiet nature and my childishness. I once overheard a neighbor say, “Sophia's like a six-year-old. She just goes along with whatever you say and doesn't have anything to say for herself.” My appearance didn't help matters; though I'm three years older than Elsie, I'm also several inches shorter. A cherub-like face with apple cheeks isn't cute anymore when you're twenty-three. Elsie and I were both born with the typical blonde heads of Appalachia, but mine had darkened to brown by the time I was fifteen. Elsie's would have stayed blonde if she hadn't dyed it dark red. The Hecklers went around calling her Ronald McDonald. I think she looks more like Angela Chase.

Our appearances don't matter in Frankfort either, except when they do. The guys at the bar at Clarke's Tavern make eyes at us, and on our second night in the city, we went to a club where men wanted to dance with us and told us we were “a couple of real beauties.” Elsie and I had never in our lives been called beauties. Charmain Dekker's nose and harelip, the subjects of real contention in Tanager, were entirely ignored in Frankfort in favor of her curly dark hair and her soft hazel eyes—uncommon in Tanager. Nobody called Ellia “lanky,” and her hair was compared to sunshine rather than straw. And in the magical city of Frankfort, my sister, largely ignored by the male population of our hometown, had managed to attract a boyfriend.

Elsie and I slept in the same room in the rental house in Frankfort; we didn't mind, as we had shared a bedroom until I entered high school. As we were on our way to sleep one night, Elsie told me that she'd met somebody when we went out to the arcade the other day, and she was planning to see him again.

“Met somebody?” I asked, just for clarification. “As in...somebody somebody?”

“He's pretty cute,” Elsie said. “His name's Kyle.”

“How'd you meet?” I asked her. I was tired from a day spent shopping and streetcar-touring, but this new development was far too interesting to sleep on.

“I was waiting for the NeoGeo machine,” Elsie told me, “and he was on it. I was watching him play for a while. We started talking about the games, then we started talking about other games, then we started talking about other stuff. Then he said I was pretty cute, and he asked me for my number. I gave it to him, and, well, the rest is history.”

“Well,” I said through a yawn, “good for you.” I was too tired to say much else. Elsie gave me a mischevious little smile and turned out her light. Truly, we were in a different world if my sister, ignored by guys for most of her life, was able to find somebody. A part of me envied her, which wasn't anything new. It was just another thing she had an advantage over me in: she was taller, she was prettier, she was much more confident, and even her name—Elissandra--was longer than mine. Now she had a date before I did. There were guys in the city who talked  to me and asked me for my number, but they never followed up. Oh well, I looked forward to meeting him either way.

Kyle was tall and thin as a rail. He was clean shaven, with blonde hair that went everywhere, and he wore glasses that made him look sort of like a young Bill Gates. My first thought was that he looked like a noodle, or like Napoleon Dynamite. I shouldn't have been judging him on his appearance, since I had my own appearance judged more times than I could count. But the truth was that there wasn't much else about this guy besides the fact that he did look like Napoleon Dynamite. He didn't say anything when Elsie told him, “This is my big sister, Sophia.” When I said hi to him, he said “Hey” back, but his voice was dry and uninterested. When Charmain offered him some of the tea she'd bought in a shop down the street, he just shook his head and sat himself down on the couch, his legs spread wide apart. “He's a shy boy,” Elsie said, patting his shoulder. “He was probably in the middle of a game when I called him up.”

“I wasn't,” Kyle told her.

“Ray lets us use his PS4,” Elsie said. “We'll play a few games. Sounds good?”

“Sure it does,” Kyle said. He was looking at the wall, not at her.

Elsie left to go and fetch the games. Charmain, who always preferred outdoors games to videogames, left us alone. Talia was out in the city, surely causing trouble, and I figured Ellia was in her room watching Netflix. I went to work setting up the PS4. I had nothing to say to Kyle, and he had nothing to say to me. I felt bad that he seemed so uneasy around us. I fumbled in my head for a conversation-starter, but I knew how hopeless it would be. It would come out as nothing but stutter and babble, and he would feel even more uncomfortable than he already was.

It was only after I had connected the last of the cables that I noticed Kyle was staring at me.

“H...hi,” I managed to stammer. I tried to smile. I wasn't sure if I'd succeeded, until I saw him smile back at me. When he smiled, I finally knew what Elsie saw in him.

“Hey, Sophia,” he said, his voice still flat and dry, “c'mere, will ya?”

“You...you need something?” His eyes followed me as I made my way across the room and sat down on the arm of the couch. He started to scoot in closer to me, and I stood up. “I...what do you...what do you n-n-need?” I asked. Suddenly, I longed for Elsie or Charmain. I would have even felt okay with Talia walking in right at that moment.

“Nevermind,” he told me suddenly. “It's nothing.” Elsie had returned with a stack of games and a bag of Fritos, and I realized I'd been holding my breath.

Kyle was just as boring the next time he came around, and I was starting to wonder just what was the appeal of dating a human two-by-four, even if he had a pretty smile. But Elsie seemed happy with him, so it wasn't my place to judge. She brought him around to watch Guardians of the Galaxy with us, and he continued to be the most uninteresting person I had ever met in my life.

Charmain and Talia had gone out to see Talia's aunt, “Baroness” Maven, and Elsie and Ellia were going to go pick up the pizza. I wasn't too thrilled to be left alone with Kyle, but if I had objected, I would've had to tell Elsie what happened the other day. I couldn't think of any positives that would result from that. Besides, it was probably nothing at all and I was just overthinking; I had a tendency to see things that weren't really there. When the girls walked out the door, I got up from the couch and told Kyle that I had to get something out of my room.

“Whatcha gotta get?” he asked me in monotone.

“My phone,” I told him. It was charging in the socket next to Elsie's bed.

“I'll go get it for you,” Kyle said. “Where's your room at?”

I didn't like him asking that question. “N-no,” I stuttered. “I'll...I'll get it, it's fine.” I fled to  my room before he could say anything else. I unhooked my phone from the charger and sat down on my bed to browse the web for a while. I figured Kyle wouldn't care if I stayed here until the girls came back.

I heard the room door open and close. I looked up to find Kyle standing there. He was smiling again, and I hated how much I liked it.

I got up from the bed, slipping the phone into my pocket. “What...what do you w-w-want?” I asked.

“Just checkin' up on you,” Kyle said. He sat down on Elsie's bed and pretended to be very interested in the generic lavender-colored sheets.

“I'm fine,” I told him, “just checking Facebook.” I headed for the door, but then he grabbed my arm and pulled me down onto the bed beside him. I found myself looking right into his big Bill Gates glasses. He smelled like Old Spice.

I tried to move off of the bed, but he put his hand between my legs and made his way up my shorts. I jumped up and hit him as hard as I could. He recoiled, placing his hand—the one he'd just touched me with—on the spot where I'd hit. I ran for the door, and he sprung off the bed and grabbed me by my hair. “Don't be so difficult, Sophia,” he said. “You don't seem like a difficult girl. And if you get difficult with me then I might have to get difficult with you, and neither one of us wants that, do we, Sophia?”

I went to hit him again. He dodged it. I turned to flee, and he grabbed me again. His hand was right at my waistline. I never wanted to smell Old Spice again.

“Sophia,” he said, “ you care about Elsie, right?”

I knew that if I spoke, it would come out as nothing but blather. I might even cry, and there was no way I was letting him see that.

“I care a lot abut Elsie,” Kyle assured me. “She's a real great girl. You think your sister's a great girl, Sophia?” I was going to throw up. When I did, I'd make sure it was in his mouth.

“I wouldn't want anything to happen to her,” Kyle went on. “But if you tell anyone what went down today, I just might have to do something to Elsie. I wouldn't want that. I know you wouldn't want that either.”

He wasn't a man. He was a beast, a creature, the most vile thing that had ever crawled up out of the ninth level of hell to curse us with his evil presence. I finally managed to break free of the spell he had me under and I elbowed him in the gut. I ran, without really knowing where I was going or what I was doing. Elsie and Ellia are back now, I told myself. It was only wishful thinking; I was alone in the house with this demon. He slithered his way into the den and pinned me against the door with his gaze. He was a basilisk. Don't look into his eyes or you'll die in seven days...

It was like a nightmare where I couldn't move. He was coming closer to me. “Sophiaaa,” he sang, like he was playing a game with a child. “Think of your sister now, Sophia.” I backed away. I wondered where Talia kept all her knives. “I don't wanna see Elsie get hurt.” He was two inches away from me now and his hand was going down my shorts. Now I kicked and got him right in his erect dick. Now he was angry.

“If you do that to me again,” he said with his hot breath that smelled like A&W, “we'll both see what happens to Elsie.” He pinned me to the floor with his knee. His basilisk eyes bored into me and I was done...

I have no idea what happened. I must have fainted from the pain. My god, it hurt like hell, and even now it was hardly any better.

I was lying on my bed. I tried to move, and I felt something burn. I screamed. Someone put their hand on the back of my head and I slapped them.

“It's me, honey,” Charmain said. I felt her pull my blanket up to my chin. I tried to roll over, but I was burning. Rolling over meant rolling into an open flame. Charmain sat down on Elsie's bed, and Talia came round and stood beside her. I had never in my life been comforted by the sight of Talia Santiago until now.

Charmain reached out to touch my shoulder, hesitating for a moment as if she had to be careful not to break me. “Are you all right?”

I wasn't all right and I'd never be all right again. If you tell anyone what went down today, I just might have to do something to Elsie. If I opened my mouth at all, I would sign my sister's death warrant. I remained silent, and my whole body started to shudder.

“Should we go to the hospital?” Charmain asked. Did she know? How had she found out? I screamed at the top of my lungs for Elsie. Some horrible thing told me she was dead, that between now and the moment I had passed out, they had found her body tossed in some back alley somewhere. “Elsieeeeeeee! Elsieeeeeeee!” Talia raised a hand to slap me, but Charmain said, “Don't you dare!” and grabbed her wrist. She held me as I fell apart.

But then there was Elsie in the doorway, and it was all right, everything could be all right again. I made a move to fling myself out of the bed and go running for her, but the fire in my body quickly called me back to reality. I screamed, and in a moment Elsie was at my side. I held on to her. I'd never let her go, not ever.

“Oh, Sophia...” Elsie patted my head, which she did quite a lot even though she was the little sister. I could see Ellia standing in the hallway, listening.

“Where's Kyle?” I asked. Just the mention of his name made me feel cold.

“He left when you got sick,” Elsie said.

“Sick?”

“Yeah, sick,” Elsie said, patting me again. “Do you remember anything, Soph?”

Did I remember anything? I remembered that my mouth now had the power to end my sister's life, and it was all that monster's fault. He'd laid a curse on me. I started to cry.

Elsie kissed my head and turned me on the pillow. The pain was still there, but it wasn't quite so bad in the face of her gentle attentions. “Kyle said you threw up and pissed all over yourself. You couldn't even move to go to the bathroom.” She shook her head and regarded me with genuine sympathy. “What in the world did you catch, Sophia? You poor kid.” Usually I  hated when she called me “kid,” but in the face of everything else, it wasn't a problem. The sticky wet feeling in my shorts was nothing at all like piss.

“How...how did I...how did I get in h-here?” I asked Elsie, but I felt like I already knew the answer. My body tensed up.

“Kyle took you to bed,” Elsie said. “Ellia and I came in with the pizza maybe five minutes after, and he told us you'd gotten really sick and he had to go. He told us everything.”

Kyle took you to bed. He told us everything. An electric jolt went through my body. My head spun around like it had the day Ellia and I went on the swing ride at the county fair. I willed myself not to think about it, but my will wasn't strong enough. I threw up.

“Ew!” Talia moved a full two feet away from my bed. Charmain said, “Poor thing” and shook her head. Elsie went to pull the blankets away. Without a thought, I slapped her.

“Yikes!” Elsie took a few steps back. “Sophia, what was that for?” Her eyes were wide with disbelief, as if perhaps I was an impostor in place of the real Sophia. Maybe I was. Maybe that creature had the real Sophia with him. Still, if she pulled the blankets back she would see everything and know everything. That vomit-covered blanket was my only shield. I held it close to me with a Herculean grip.

Ellia said, “We gotta get her to the hospital.” Charmain knelt down on the edge of the bed, reached for my blanket—my shield—and said, “Come on, let's get this nasty thing cleaned up.”

I screamed. I screamed so loud that I was sure I could be heard all over the world. Charmain jumped up off the bed. Ellia cried, “Sophia! Sophia!” She said something else, but I couldn't hear it. All I could hear were my own screams, which must have rested dormant inside of me for my whole life, waiting to escape. I couldn't turn them off. I couldn't make them stop. Elsie had her arms around me and my head was pressed into her shoulder. Talia ripped the blanket away and tossed it to the floor. I couldn't stop her.

My bloody, stained shorts were right there in front of everybody.

[sitinthelight]

Zach’s gone for a few days!

I have the day off today :D I’m in a cheerful let’s get shit done mood!

The reason Zach is gone is pretty sad. He left to see his grandmother who is really sick as her stage 4 cancer is progressing and they don’t know how much time she has left.

Even with everything going on between us, I kind of wish I could have gone with him to see his family and give them my best wishes. I love his family. I will miss them, even if they hate me. They’ve been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a big family and they’ve shown me so much love and adoration. His grandmother who is sick gave me a sewing machine that I finally just learned how to use and it’s a really nice one. She was going to teach me quilting but I’ll probably have to take classes at a hobby shop for that eventually.

So that’s pretty sad but honestly, with him out of the apartment, the sad and negative atmosphere has lifted. It’s just me and the pets (: I’ve already worked on cleaning the kitchen and while realistically, I know I can’t get the whole apartment cleaned in one day, I can fucking try. I’ve been listening to a ton of Kevin Abstract. Like, Brockhampton is really great and I love listening to them but sometimes they can be either tooooo slow (with the newest album) or too heavy. Kevin Abstract is just perfect for what I’m feeling right now and I’m really enjoying it. I don’t know how I got into rap and hip hop and some r&b but like, when I’m in the mood, it’s great. Lizzo has also been my favorite artist to do my morning workouts to. 

I do want to make this day off count. Because my next day off is literally next Wednesday. My shifts are mostly 6 hour shifts so they don’t take up so much of my day but like, I never want to do much except relax after work. Zach left his PS4 so I can play Persona 5 (: 

Scott got me into it and I’ve been slacking at playing (along with let’s go Eevee) so I may play a bit after I get off work tomorrow. 

Zach has been reassuring me that he’ll be fine if I break up with him and it’s been, comforting. Really weird. But comforting. I know most break ups are premeditated to a degree, but this is a little weird to go through. I don’t think he will be fine, but him saying that does make me feel a little better and does show he is being more mature than I thought he would be about the situation. He doesn’t know for sure that I’m breaking up. Honestly, I am having doubts about it myself but like, I need the space to grow. I want to focus on myself and what it takes to make me a better person mentally and physically. 

Physically, I’m doing pretty well. I’m having a lot of fun switching up my diet. I slipped up and ate like 3 donuts yesterday because Zach bought a dozen from Krispy Kreme. Like, we have the Original Krispy Kreme location in this city! A lot of things originated from here! Krispy Kreme is one of them. 

I should have stuck to just one. I woke up feeling kind of sick and like a sugary bile wanted to escape by going up my throat. I feel better now but I did skip breakfast because of it and just have been drinking a lot of water and a cold brew. 

I’ve been experimenting with meat alternatives. Meatless meats and tofu. It’s been an interesting journey and honestly, I feel like I could go vegetarian or even vegan one day. Maybe not full fledged vegetarian. I think I’d still want meat like once or twice a month but I’ve never been that big of a meat eater so I think I could manage. But I found a brand that makes meatless meatballs and ground beef and I’m blown away by how good it is. I also found a way to prepare tofu so that I actually enjoy it rather than forcing myself to eat it so that’s been pretty cool too. 

Part of me is pretty excited to share these things with my mom and sister. My sister is doing better with healthy eating. My mom slips constantly. I get my lack of self control from her. She’s diabetic so it’s problematic so hopefully living with me for a little while can help them get into better eating habits. 

I’m honestly already looking forward to this period of just going to work and taking classes. I’ll still feel stressed on multiple levels but I won’t have to deal with the negativity that Zach creates and it’ll take a load off of me. I also am already looking forward to moving to Charlotte. I don’t know what kind of job I’ll be able to land over there so I know I won’t be able to immediately get an apartment for a good price in the perfect location or anything. But all I need is a generally safe place to live (being a young female with only mace to protect myself with). I’m already planning on redoing my room design. I have a color scheme in mind. There is a chance that I might already have a roommate but it’s way too soon to know because both of our lives are constantly changing and that’s a-okay. 

Charlotte is a cool place. Always things to do. Interesting bars to go to (God, I miss bar hopping and dancing). Temples to visit because I want to learn Vietnamese and more about the culture in general. They have an airport because I do want to travel more. Tons of community groups and clubs and chances to volunteer for things I believe in and want to support. So many opportunities to see my favorite bands and musicals. Lots of places to go shopping. It’s not too far from a lot of cities in NC where I want to go gem mining (I want to join a rockhounding group). I also want to take dance classes or martial arts once I’ve established a stable career and have finished school. Charlotte is hella expensive but I totally see why a ton of people are still moving there. 

That’s my current longish term goal. Short term goal right now is to make the transition to moving to Wilson and saving money for Charlotte. 

I’m almost done paying off one of my medical bills! That means I’ll have finished paying off two :D and that’s so exciting because then I’ll just have to focus on the credit card debt (most of it is medical too, the irony). All to prepare for student loan debt which intimidates me but I’ll survive. So many people have it worse. I know someone who owes like $70,000 and omg will we please elect an presidential candidate who wants to help eliminate or soften the blow of student loans and just high tuition prices in general. 

Like, Biden right now is ranking highest on the list of favorable Democrats who are officially in the running. But I’m just not feeling him. He hasn’t come out with a lot of specific stances yet and is just kind of coasting off his general likability and popularity. I’m kind of disappointed to see him topping the list when there are so many good candidates out there right now! All have their flaws but I’m more focused on how they can change the overall election climate and how this country functions. Because this current president sucks. I’ve given up keeping up with news stories. So maybe I’m a few days late on learning about the newest school shooting or revolutions and riots happening in other countries. Not seeing all of that at once on my newsfeed keeps me from feeling hopeless and overwhelmed and honestly has really helped me mentally. I deleted facebook for like a month and now that I have it back, I honestly have barely opened it.I didn't miss it. 

Also, in regards to my last post, I don’t think I’m a bad person. I make unwise decisions but I’m human. I can’t help the emotions I feel, just how I react to them so I’m just going to try being better. My head feels clearer now and like there are still concerns that I have and a lot of hard things to get through, but I’ll get through them! I’ll be fine no matter what direction I end up in or what happens! If the thing with my ex doesn’t work out for whatever reason then so be it! I’ll get over it! I’m pretty, I’m smart, someone out there will find me super interesting and once I start going to therapy, I can learn how to talk to people and make more friends and I’ll be fine in the long run. I just want to focus more on what I want and be selfish for a little bit. I think that’s okay. I think I deserve that. 

Cordelia is napping next to me and she’s laying on her back and making funny little snoring noises. Her foot is twitching. Omg, she’s so cute. I’m kind of excited that I probably get to keep her even though she is a little menace. I’m hoping that she’ll grow out of it once she’s past her kitten/young cat stage. So it may be a few years but heres to hoping she’ll become a chill cat. 

[itispossibleihaveissues]

And Who By Fire - chapter 16

Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Permanent injury, amputation, behavioural changes due to brain injury, dysfunctional relationships [big shock, I know] I will put any extras at the beginning of each chapter.

Summery:  Both Dick and Jason are caught in an explosion that changes everything. Burdened with a shared sense of guilt and isolation, they are forced to rely on each other. Together they might heal. Or possibly just kill each other.

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 15

Thanks to Sharon for the Beta

Notes: This is for Iamjasonssmirkingrevenge and is also all her fault.

Yes an update, finally. Sorry for the wait >.<

As soon as the sun rose, bright and warm in a disgusting show of spite for Jason’s unhappy state, Tim flew into action. It was mildly terrifying to watch him work as he made a flurry of calls and sent off emails with speed that would make even the best PA cry with envy.

Jason lay on the sofa and felt sorry for himself, while fighting down his own twinge of impressed jealousy at his little brothers brutal efficiency. Within the hour Tim had ordered - and received - a new pair of crutches, pancakes with extra bacon, coffee, a parrot-friendly breakfast, put in an order for exact copies of both of Jason’s previous prosthetics and had completed his mornings office work, or delegated it accordingly.

Even though some days it seemed that Tim was out to ruin Jason's life, it was increasingly apparent he owed the kid big time. Maybe he would by him a fruit basket or something.

“Can you get me a new PS4?” he asked instead of saying thanks, because he was a coward who couldn’t even offer that last shred of his own pride. “PB or Dick killed the other one with a combination of fruit juice and disembowelment. Fairly sure it was PB that did that bit, but you can never be sure with those two.”

Tim shoved a clean T-shirt at him. “I could get you one, yeah - but I won’t,” he said, curtly.

“Why?”

“Because you’re an asshole.”

“Fair enough,” Jason agreed, nodding and winching as the movement jarred his bruised body. “I think Dick gave me whiplash...”

“Yeah? Well you gave him a permanent brain injury, so fair’s fair.”

Jason winced again. “Harsh, dude,” he said, but it wasn’t untrue. Clearly Tim's kindness only went so far and he had moved past helpful and back to being pissed. Jason couldn’t blame him for that, but he wasn’t going to have the time to dwell on it as he reluctantly took the crutches Tim handed him and got shakily to his feet. Foot.

His life was the fucking worst.

He looked at PB whose pale, silver-gray eyes were watching him closely, as it made its way through a chunk of broccoli.

“You coming?” Jason asked him.

The parrot regarded him for a moment, then stuck the broccoli in its beak and climbed up Jason's right pant leg, settling on his shoulder with a ruffle of his damaged plumage, and began crunching loudly on his breakfast with an aggressive sort of determination.

“I think it’s pissed off with you,” Tim commented, somewhat smugly, then turned away before Jason could respond.

By the time they made it to the parking garage, Jason's gut was churning with so many emotions he didn’t even know which to start with; Anxiety? Guilt? Fear? Anger? Anger was always a good one, but in this case it was directed towards himself, and taking it out on either of his companions just didn’t feel right.

  Tim helped him into a nondescript car he was barely old enough to drive, and Jason settled into the seat awkwardly, holding PB in his lap.

They were silent for a few moments while Jason wrestled with his thoughts some more and Tim moved them into the downtown traffic, weaving his way through the honking cars.

“You mad at me?” Jason asked at last - a stupid question, but he had gotten kind of used to the fact that Tim had appeared to be in his corner. The loss was upsetting. “I get that everyone is, and will be when they find out – I am fairly sure Damian will make an actual attempt on my life at some point - but you’ve been helping me. I don’t get it.”

Tim pursed his lips, considering. “It’s a hard one to answer,” he said after a moment’s thought. “Because, yeah, on one hand I’m furious that something you did took away a part of my brother. I hate to see him hurting, both because he is having to struggle with new aspects of his behaviour and personality, and because helping people is a fundamental part of his identity.” Tim paused to viciously cut off a sleek red car, which sent a storm of honking their way. “It’s more than identity, it’s an obsession for him. And I’m worried that the two ways he had to slake that need have now been taken away.”

“Yeah,” Jason was fairly sure now was one of those times it was okay for him to wallow whole-heartedly in misery and self-recrimination. He held onto PB as Tim swerved in front of a truck, laying on the horn in casual defiance. The kid drove like someone who had been taught by Dick, and Jason wasn’t sure if it was terrifying or amusing. Maybe both.

Settling back into his lane, Tim let out a whoosh of breath, shrugging like he was trying to roll the tension out of his shoulders. “But, even though all of that’s true, Dick is alive... and although he’s different, he’s still Dick – just with a few complications. Something that would have been a lot harder to accept if you hadn’t helped me see it.” Tim shifted again, tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel. “You really helped Damian too - they FaceTime every other day now, you know? He’s adapting to the changes and the way he needs to deal with Dick in order to do what’s best for their relationship. His behaviour has improved.”

“How can you tell, with the little demon?” Jason asked as he rubbed absently at his stump. So many lives had been fucked up by his actions that it didn’t feel like there were any amends he could make.

“I know right? But it’s noticeable. After the accident he was lashing out in general and provoking Bruce, trying to get a rise out of him. And he was working himself into exhaustion.”

“Like father like son, huh?”

“Yeah, big time. But since he and Dick have found a way to communicate properly, he seems to have mellowed again.” Tim made a rueful face, “Well, as mellow as demon spawn gets anyway.”

They drove the rest of the way in almost companionable silence while Jason mulled that over. It was no surprise Damian was taking things out on Bruce; after all, Jason had done the same in his time, when things hurt him in ways he couldn’t express properly.

He stared out the window. The morning was crisp and bright, and it didn’t seem right for the day to be full of singing birds and fragrant, fall leaves as his life fell apart again. It should be raining, or hailing, or maybe a tornado or something. Because, fuck, he was going to have to tell everybody. If he was going to at least try to make amends in some way, then he was going to have to start by letting people know what he was attempting to atone for. Now the process had been started, he realised he would not be able to live himself if he didn’t.

The dark of the parking garage in his building was almost a relief. After Tim pulled into a good spot near the elevator and turned off the engine, they both sat in the dim light for a moment – Jason attempting to figure out the best way to get out the car with out falling on his already battered face, and Tim thinking whatever Tim thoughts were knocking around in his big old brain. Maybe planning world domination, or maybe just steeling himself for whatever lay inside the apartment.

Just as Jason was getting ready to attempt his crutches, Tim broke the silence. “I guess that even though there is a part of me that’s angry and disappointed - and it is a pretty big part, I can’t pretend it isn’t - when it comes down to the line, I’ve gained as much as I’ve lost.” He leaned back in his seat and sighed. “I gained a brother in you and, although you are endlessly aggravating and make stupid choices, like, ninety percent of the time, that’s important to me. And I still have my family: Dick, Bruce, Cass and Damian, I suppose, even though he’s the worst little brother in the universe. And although Dick's lost so much in this mess – perhaps he has gained some things too.”

Jason's face was flushing and his heart was beating rapidly, like the wings of a trapped bird. He really didn’t deserve the gift Tim had just given him. It was worth more than any of the other things he had done for him over the past few months; more than the forgiveness, the reassurance. So much more. Jason was good at stuff, he was useful in a fight, at planning ops and getting things done, and he understood Gotham’s underbelly better even than Batman, but Occasionally Useful had been all he was worth to his so-called family, and often not even that – too trigger happy, too brutal, too unpredictable.

But as a brother? It had only ever been a word, not a reality. They were brothers because of circumstance, not blood, or love, or any other tie other than Bruce and his mission. He and Dick had moved past the brother thing into different territory, sure, but what Tim was offering was just as important – it was family. It was overwhelming and Jason didn’t know what to say, what he could say he didn’t even know if Tim understood the significance of his words to Jason’s damaged sense of self.

So of course he didn’t say any of those things and instead cleared his throat roughly. “You going to do a Dick and start chucking out terrible cliches now?” he asked, voice still hoarse with emotion.

Thankfully, Tim did him a solid and ignored it, letting him keep the last shreds of his dignity.

“Sure. If I was a religious man, I would say ‘the Lord moves in mysterious ways’ but I’m not, so instead I’ll say that I think, with time and hard work, the both of you can be happy. Happier maybe than you both were before. Or you could just mope about and fuck each other up further.” He shrugged. “Up to you.” And with that, the little shit got out the car with all the ease of a two legged person and headed for the elevator.

Jason scowled and followed at a much slower pace, feeling strangely grateful for Tim's parting shot. They were still on shaky ground, but he felt better nonetheless.

 The apartment was a mess. Actually, mess was not quite the right word to describe what looked like the aftermath of a tornado of Biblical proportions.

“Well someone’s been venting,” Jason said, not surprised at the state of all of his stuff but quite sad to see some of his possessions mangled beyond repair.

“Goddamn, clunk fizz,” PB said miserably and, in Jason's opinion, with an under tone of accusation. The parrot started a slow descent, claw over claw, from Jason's shoulder and down his back. Jason was distantly surprised that the creepy feel of the birds freaky-looking feet clutching at his clothes was no longer unpleasant.

“I suppose we should check on Dick,” was Tim's only comment as he started picking his way through the shards of broken glass that might have once been Jason's 72” TV.

Jason followed slowly – he wasn’t used to the crutches and he really didn’t want to land face first in a pile of glass, and as he maneuvered through the chaos he whistled for PB. He didn’t want the bird to cut his feet, but PB ignored him and hopped deftly through the mess towards the kitchen.

Dick was slumped against the open fridge, a half eaten strawberry yogurt clutched in one limp hand and a mostly empty bottle of scotch in the other. Thankfully, much of the whisky seemed to be on Dick and the floor, so at he was probably only drunk and not suffering from alcohol poisoning.

PB scuttled forward to investigate and stuck out his tongue to taste first the yogurt and then the scotch.

“Get the bird in his cage, Tim. I’m not dealing with a drunk parrot on top of the past twenty-four hours.”

Tim grimaced and bent hesitantly to attempt reach for PB - and then jumped back as the sharp beak snapped at him fearsomely.

“I’m not losing a finger to it!” Tim said, shrilly. “You pick it up!” He pointed the aforementioned finger at PB, but then hid it behind his back as the parrots beady eyes fixed on it with clear intent.

Jason huffed. The kid had been out on the streets pummelling bad guys since the onset of puberty, but one grumpy bird and he was shrieking like a four year old. “Which hand should I pick it up with, genius?” He attempted to draw attention to the fact he was currently using his hands to hold the crutches and nearly slipped. “Fuck!”

“Fine,” Tim said, still eyeing PB like he was going to suddenly remember how to fly and rip his head off. Being a smart boy, Tim found another way and instead of risking any limbs he fetched some parrot snacks and toys to tempt the bird away.

Jason stared at Dick’s slumped form. He didn’t think he could actually feel any more shit than he already did, but was still unsurprised when there was another deep twist of regret in his gut. Dick was a good person and didn’t deserve all the crap Jason had put him though. If he wanted Jason to leave then he would, he wasn’t going to case any more harm – but if Dick gave even the slightest hint he wanted him to stay despite all he had done, he would happily spend a lifetime making it up to him. Or trying to at least. God that might be the sappiest thing he had ever thought. Or at least it would have been, if the past few months hadn’t happened. As it was half of the stupid thoughts that passed through his brain these days seemed to consist of self pity or mushy feelings about his dumb family.

Thinking of family made him think of Tim and how grateful he was, which also served to piss him off, finally letting in the anger he had desperately tried to substitute for his feelings of sadness and emotional confusion. Because without Tim pushing him to tell Dick before he was ready this mess would have been one for another day, and not something he had to deal with right now.

The comforting familiar feeling of irritation and resentment relaxed him slightly as he waited hopefully for parrot/Tim warfare to erupt in the living-room.

He was disappointed though, because although Tim had failed to get the canny parrot into his cage, he had managed to get him distracted enough he was no longer in danger of consuming spilt scotch, instead he hunched on the back of the sofa gnawing on what looked suspiciously like an iphone.

Tim came back into the kitchen and eyed Dick’s slumped form. His next task was going to have to be single handedly getting Dick from the kitchen to the sofa. Jason, unable to do more than sit and watch, left him to it and took a seat on the arm of the easy chair – one of the few places free of glass and the other miscellaneous fruits of Dick's rage.

After a few false starts Tim managed to haul Dick more or less to his feet. Dick groaned and didn’t open his eyes, but he was taking a little of his own weight. Jason snorted when Tim staggered, nearly dumping them both on the floor.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Tim said, attempting to get Dick to move under his own power with little success.

Jason rather vindictively hoped Dick puked on him. “Shall I cheer you on from the sidelines?” He asked.

“I think,” Tim huffed, now attempting to take most of Dick’s weight as he maneuvered him around the debris littering the floor, “I think, we should put him on the sofa for now. That way I can keep an eye on him while you catch a nap, then we can swap.”

“And then what?” Jason was just so fucking tired. Tired physically, and emotionally. Tired of his own mercurial emotions, that were sending him from anger to grief to gratitude and then right back to anger.

Tim chose to ignore his yo-yoing attitude – something he did with ease, and Jason was forced to wonder if he had always seemed this way to his family and had just been lacking the self awareness.

Tim grunted as he heaved Dick the last few feet to the sofa. “Well at some point I’m going to have to go to work, so maybe you can call someone to take over? Roy maybe?” he said.

“Roy is a bad idea – he and Dick communicate by squabbling, often violently, but as soon as he finds out the reason he’s babysitting he’ll attempt to beat me to a pulp, and I draw the line at the indignity of getting a whipping from Harper so I’ll have to shoot him, and then Dick will whine about it forever.”

“Okay, not Roy then.” Tim said with infinite patience as he pushed Dick down on the couch with an expression of profound relief. Possibly due to the weight of his brothers semi-conscious body or, equally likely, because Dick always stank like a bar room floor after a drinking session.

“But,” Tim continued as he brushed the remains of Jason's ipad off a chair and sat, “you have to call someone. I really do have to work.”

“You’re sixteen, Tim. Why the fuck do you have to go to work?”

Tim shrugged. “Dick was the one who was supposed to get into the business, but he was completely disinterested, so I did it.”

“And now Bruce should be doing it.”

“He does. I enjoy working at Wayne Enterprises.”

“Of course you do, you Machiavellian shit.”

Tim grinned at him, showing far too many teeth and, Jason suspected, a shade of his true evil nature.

“Go to bed, Jason. I’ll wake you up in four hours when I have to go. My first meeting is at three and I will need to go clean up first.”

“Thanks.” And he meant it.

 When Jason woke, it was dark. Tim had let him sleep – or possibly Dick had killed him in a violent rage and he had been unable to wake Jason at the allotted hour. The possibility was not as remote as it had once been, and he was fully awake in moments and ready to go check. Or perhaps not quite fully awake as he spent a few fruitless minutes hunting for the prosthetics he no longer had. Infuriating and embarrassing.

Finally he made it out of bed, and discovered there was a note pinned to the door with some sort of novelty Batarang. Cute.

Jason,

I let you sleep on, as Dick woke before I left and was coherent enough that I have no issues leaving him. We spoke for a while - he is still extremely pissed, but seems to have calmed down somewhat. Or that could have been the hangover. I told him to sleep it off, and informed him you were in your room. He promised to only murder you while you were conscious, so I think it should be fine.

He has taken the crazy parrot to bed with him, in case you were wondering where it was.

I didn’t bother to clean up, because you deserve some added pain – but I did order some food and essentials so don’t shoot the delivery guy (I used your account and your security is useless).

Will touch base later over the Bruce thing,

T

Ugh the Bruce thing. That was going to suck no matter what they did. Jason opened the door to his room anyway, just as a precaution in case Dick had surfaced or PB had escaped from his clutches. The living room was still very much the same as it had been earlier in the day – sad, miserable chaos. His mildly chewed phone was still on the arm of the chair where he had left it, and it was blinking an ominous green light. He never used to get an adrenaline spike followed by cold dread when he realised he had messages. He did now though. Reluctantly he hobbled over and picked it up. Eleven missed calls from Tim, three voicemails. Jason's stomach dropped further – he almost didn’t want to know – surely he could just leave his phone and run away. Baghdad was pretty nice this time of year.

He played the messages. The first was Tim, urgent but calm: Jason, Bruce is back – he arrived this afternoon. He will almost certainly head out tonight but I will try and find something else to occupy him to give you some time. Call me when you get this.

The second message was also from Tim, but less calm:

He went out, and came back an hour later. He is pissed. I would be careful if I were you – not hundred percent what’s riling him but it might be you. Call me

Jason shut his eyes as the third message began to play – he didn’t want to fucking know, but forewarned was also forearmed.

Yeah, it's you. He’s on his way. Incidentally, I’ve been grounded for the rest of my natural lifespan, which I don’t appreciate. Damian is out with Steph, so that’s one thing less to worry about. Good luck. See you some time in the next decade, if you survive.

Oh good. That was just what he wanted to hear.

While he waited for panic to set in, he wondered if Tim had been reprimanded for aiding and abetting, withholding evidence, or some other mortal sin. Either way, Jason definitely owed him big time.

If he survived, obviously.

[doctor-paprika]

Heroin sucks.

I have no followers, so I guess I am using this as a diary entry that no one will see but can help me vent a bit.

I am learning how to tumblr so have been randomly searching any interests that come to mind. Of course, one of the first I could think of was heroin/addiction recovery, but very few results came up. After that, I stupidly just searched the word “heroin” and the results really brought me down (lower than I already was, which was surprising.)

A few accounts were splattered with pictures of Kurt Cobain, which didn’t surprise me. Soon I saw several accounts with videos of people shooting up, people talking about how much they love heroin and other drugs, and of course, people talking of how they may be addicts, but they aren’t dirty junkies!

When I was 14 I began eating pills. Benzos were fun, but opiates were my favourite. I took them from medicine cabinets and kept myself in steady supply that way. Years passed, I graduated high school, fell in and out of a few relationships, and eventually began seeing someone who had been using heroin for a while. They would leave the room to shoot up, but one night I told them to stay, and I asked them to share.

I was 19, had a good job, a reliable car, over $4k in the bank I had earned every penny of on my own, a good relationship with my parents, and a few people I called friends.

I don’t want to sit here and put down my partner at the time because it is counterproductive. All I will say is that they were 26, had never had a job, a driver’s license, a high school diploma, but got lots of money given to them without question by their mother.

I say this just to give you (the person who is not reading this) an idea of my situation at the time.

I loved my first shot. There was no mark left on my arm, which shocked me. Before this, I had needed four nurses to hold me down to get a tetanus shot, but suddenly the fear was gone. I didn’t want to bring up doing it again, so was very excited when my partner asked a few days later if I would like to join them in shooting up again. The second time was even better than the first.

The lies came quickly. Calls to my job, claiming my car was broken down. Calls to my parents coming up with various reasons as to why I wouldn’t be home that night. The few friends I had became unimportant, I had new “friends” that I met through my partner, and they either sold, used, or both.

A few months after I turned 20 I quit my job, officially moved in with my partner, and had begun to spend almost every moment of every day coming up with ways to get heroin. I felt like a cool adult, able to make my own decisions and get high whenever I wanted! What fun!

Without having to pay for food, rent, or anything but heroin, I ran out of my $4k in less than a year. I had been saving all of my money from age 15-19 and it was gone in just a few months. I also got my car taken from me by my parents. My partners mom knew that we used, she sobbed about it, yelled about it, and acted like it was the worst thing that could have ever happened to her… but would still give us $100-300 a day so we wouldn’t get sick, and provided a nice, new car for us.

I was lucky to live in the Bay Area, because all it took was a fifteen minute drive to Oakland and I had access to dozens of dealers. There were also many needle exchanges around the city in which each person could get 400 free, new clean needles and all the ties, cooks, cottons, and anything else a heroin addict could need, including a limited supply of Narcan - which I always kept on me after having OD’d myself once and watching another friend OD, and having us both be saved by the opioid antagonist.

Oh, and I began smoking crack. Lots of crack. Crack was great! And heroin was a perfect comedown! I was awake most hours of every day, and spent almost every second of those hours worrying about how the next hour would go.

By the time my parents found out about my use, I was 22. They had been my best friends and now we were completely out of contact. My mom would occasionally stop by the apartment my partner and I shared with their mom, but by then I had begun living in the car we had, because being in Oakland all the time was easier than having to drive there every day.

My partners mom would occasionally go through periods where she decided to cut us off. She was married to an alcoholic whose health was declining so had to tend to his addiction more than ours at that point. I had never imagined myself having to fly a sign for money, but now I was doing it all day, every day, and most of the time was stuck standing out there sick. Lots of homeless people live on the streets of Oakland, so to get a good spot to stand you needed to get out early, and find some confidence to fight others who wanted your spot. I had shit thrown at me, usually open drink containers, I got yelled at to get a job, to get the fuck off the median, to kill myself. I didn’t understand what I was doing to offend these people so bad. My least favorite part was the men who would hold out a dollar, just to pull it in once I got close and show me their dick before laughing and driving off - and the worst of that was one who actually came on my hand, he could have at least gave me the dollar after!

Once my partners mom was at the hospital daily with her rapidly declining husband, waiting for him to get a liver transplant that eventually came too late, we began staying at the apartment more. Every wall became covered in blood spatter, shot from rigs that had become blocked with coagulated blood. You could not see one inch of the floor, as it was covered in used rigs and bloody rags. Surprisingly, we didn’t get the security deposit back! I will always feel terrible that I let my cat live in that fucked up place.

I joined a methadone clinic a few times to try to avoid going through withdrawal, but I would always stop going because the drive there took away time I could have spent flying my sign, smoking crack, or shooting dope.

I was 23, my job was flying a sign, my car was in three accidents that left it barely functioning, had no money for longer than a few minutes (more usually a few hours because dealers were generally slow movers), was out of contact with my parents for thirteen months, and I didn’t have one friend. I had also gotten below 90lbs, which didn’t go well with my 5'8" body - inside or out. You know you’re at rock bottom when you have old crack dealers with no teeth telling you how unhealthy you look.

You know what my most commonly used phrases during those years were? • “I’m not a junkie, I’m a functioning addict!” • “I’m not a dirty crackhead, I take showers, brush my teeth, and wash my face (in the bathroom at Safeway.)” • “My parents/friends are so stupid, they don’t get that I’m totally fine. I’m better than fine, this stuff makes me feel great! If they tried it, they’d know!” • “I know *drug dealers name* takes a long time to meet up, but we’re friends! Not like how it is for them with all the junkies out here!” • “I’ve never had to whore myself out, I’ve never been to jail, I’m not like these nasty junkies out here..”

You know what kind of things I did that I thought were totally normal and definitely didn’t make me a mentally ill drug abuser? • searched the floor of my car for lost crack rocks for hours, tearing apart any parts of it I could - one time even thinking I had found a big chunk of crack and immediately smoked it, but it was a popcorn kernel! Worst thing I’ve ever smelled or tasted. • gone through every inch of my partners mom’s room to find any loose change or gold jewelery I could sell. • sold every book, videogame, DVD, CD, and any item I owned that I could get even a dollar for, including things I had had since my childhood that had incredible sentimental value. • sold every Safeway giftcard my partners mother would give us for 75% of its value, knowing it meant my partner and I would have no food for the foreseeable future. ¹ • then spent the money we got for the giftcard on crack, knowing that without food in our system we would throw up bile after each hit. • had to shit so badly after taking a hit of crack that I went on a curb where others could see, in the middle of the day, and then taken another hit right when I was done. • taken suboxone sooner than I knew I should have, and proceeded to vomit non-stop while driving, followed my shitting my pants three times, selling a PS4 that belonged to my partners friend, and driving to meet a dealer while still vomiting and wearing my shit filled pants.

Too much information? Gross? It’s weird for me to talk about it, because I have incredibly bad anxiety and don’t like to be open about more than I have to be, but drug addiction is gross and people need to realize that. There are people out there buying clothes and accessories with “Xanax” and “Percoset” labeled on them! Alcohol is glamourized in the media all the time! And the worst part is, I get it. I get that feeling that of independence, that feeling of being cooler than others, that feeling of finally having found something to calm down my brain even a little bit and falling head over heels for it, that feeling of doing something illegal and scary and the adrenaline rush from it.

When I was in middle school there was an assembly where a man talked about his drug use. It ended with him saying quitting cigarettes was harder than quitting heroin. Once I got addicted to heroin, I knew that was complete bullshit. I wish there was a way to tell kids, adults, anyone who might be considering using that they should do anything else, that their lives can so easily be ruined for who knows how long, but unfortunately most will only learn from experience.

Addicts are demonized, we are looked at as scum, as monsters, as those you should stay far from. Addicts are people. Many addicts are brilliant minds that suffer from mental illnesses, some known and some not. I knew I was mentally ill, but the therapy groups gave me anxiety and the meds didn’t work quick enough so I took the route I felt would be easier, which proved to be the opposite. Addiction is a disease, whether people choose to believe it or not. The biggest argument I have heard against this is that addicts choose what has happened to them. Do you put down a diabetic, even if they are only dealing with that disease because they ate tons of pies and cakes every day? Do you put down a person with cancer, even if they are only dealing with that disease because they tanned themselves in the sun or under tanning booths every day? I chose to use heroin, I chose to use crack, I chose to eat pills, I chose to drink, but I did not choose to be an addict. Long before I did any of those drugs I was addicted to picking at my skin, addicted to cleaning, addicted to exercising and watching my diet very closely, but no on has ever put me down for having dermatillomania, for having OCD, or for having anorexia.

Those with mental illness are looked at as lesser beings, as being incompetent, as needing to be pushed aside and stepped on. But we are strong, we are bright, and we deserve love and acceptance.

I have been off of heroin since early 2014, but I will be celebrating my one year date of being completely clean and sober in eleven days. I never think about drugs anymore, until I see videos of others shooting up, text or images promoting the addict lifestyle, and unfortunately for me those are all too common and too easily found.

If you are an addict, ask for help. If you suffer from, or even think you may suffer from, any mental illness, ask for help. Even if it is hard to find at first, it is out there. Therapy, medications, rehabilitation and the like are out there.

But, you’re not reading this are you? Like I said, this is just a way for a rambling, ex-junkie to vent.