#this sounds so dramatic but i get so depressed and upset when its too hot out like it really messes with me bad

[transgaysex]

every day i choose kindness and i do it through gritted teeth

[angelanika]

Pro Swimmer! Sousuke x (f!) Reader

Warning: teeny-weeny Free! spoiler (bump in Sousuke’s swimming career) 

"And make sure he's back home by 8:30 the latest! Got it?"

"Yea...I- I got it," Sousuke groaned.

His eyes never met yours, feeling more and more intimidated under your intense gaze. He always found you kinda hot when you were all riled up but he knew his rights to wandering eyes were revoked. He instead opted to scan the plain walls and various apartment doors in the hallway. And occasionally down at the pointed finger you had jabbed in his chest.

You were just about to continue with your lecture when your son chirped up.

"Come on dad! If we don't go now, the lines will get too longggg," he whined, tugging at his father's shirt.

Sousuke was well aware that the lines at the amusement park were already out the gates and that he would more than likely be ushered to the front anyway, but he couldn't miss this opportunity to get the hell outta there.

"Alright Zai," Sousuke announces, "tell your mom bye and we'll go."

Without wasting another second, your 5 year old son grins up at you with his adorable smile and chubby cheeks,"Bye mommy!"

"Bye baby," you say sweetly, bending down to straighten his clothes. "Behave yourself ok? And don't eat too much junk. Remember your manners and don't go off on your own. Mommy's number is on that bracelet, if you get los-"

"Yes mommy. I got it!"

You sigh as you stand back up. "Okay...well have fun!"

"We will!" Zai yells behind him as he runs down the hall.

"I'll see you later," you call out again.

"Yea!" This time he's already turned to corner and is probably smashing at the elevator buttons.

Now its just you and Sousuke...

"Uh yh, bye Y/N. I'll be sur-"

SLAM!!

He would be lying if he said that the door shut in his face didn't hurt like a bitch. But what was he really expecting?

He just sighed and turned on his heel, hands deep in his pocket, fidgeting with the small box inside.

His mind drifted to the times when the air between you two were comfortable and loving, not tense and filled with hatred. When you would practically throw yourself on him when he came home and he would shower you in kisses. You were with him through all the ups and downs. His glory days in high school where he was among the top swimmers in his age group to his unforeseen shoulder injury which had everything around him crashing down. He became so depressed. But you stuck with him through it all. When he finally fully recovered at the end of university, he was quickly climbing the ranks once again. You, of course, were there to cheer him on. When he qualified for the Olympic games, he had recruiters and trainers from all over the world ringing his line. He got a great opportunity abroad and you eagerly pushed him to take it on. He was very reluctant about leaving you, but you quickly dismissed his worries and happily waved him goodbye, knowing that he would regret his decision later if he declined.

When he did come to visit, having some quality alone time was always on the top of your to-do list and departing from each other once again was the hardest. But for the most part, you guys made the long-distance relationship work. Everything worked...until it didn't!! :0

(sorry, I'm so dramatic)

It had been a week since he flew back out after visiting you for a few days. Sousuke had just wrapped up a small interview and he was still seated in the leather interview chair when he pulled out his phone.

BABYGIRL 💞

Please call me.

3:07pm

Sousuke slipped out his seat and through the door, leaning cooly outside against the concrete studio building ensuring that he was out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the busy pedestrians.

Bzzz Bzzz Bz-

"Hey Baby, missing me already?" He smirked.

"Hi...well yes...but that's not why i called..."

Damn did he love the sound of your voice, but what's with the worried stutter?

"What's up?"

"Please don't get upset..."

Sousuke frowned. Don't get upset? He straightened up his posture against the building, bringing to phone closer to his ear.

"What is it?"

"..."

"Y/n, what is it?"

You cringed at the absence of your usual nicknames. Your hands were clammy as you desperately tried not to drop the phone. Your heart was racing at a mile a minute and everytime you glanced at the positive tests decorated all over your bathroom counter, its sped up. You had to remind yourself that it takes two to tango and NONE of this is entirely your fault! It's not your fault....It's not your fault...

"I'm pregnant."

Sousuke froze, "y-you're what?"

"Pregnant Sousuke...pregnant," Your voice cracked as you whispered it out, clutching the phone impossibly tighter.

"How?"

Your back which was once slouched over the bathroom counter straightened up. Your face wrinkled into a frown and the tears running down your face felt hot with rising anger.

TF do u mean howw? That stupid question made you want to jump through the nearest window and the irritatingly calm way he asked such bullshit, had you foaming at the mouth.

"How Sousuke?!? You tell me!"

"But we're NOT ready for a child y/n," his voice was still low but stern, "We're still young and I'm finally at the top, there's no way i can raise a child right now.”

You quieted down, "So what are you saying?"

"I think you know y/n."

No. You had to hear him say it.

"Well I'm keeping it, so WHAT are you saying? Are you going to help me raise our child or not?!"

Sousuke sighed, "No y/n, I'm sor-"

Call ended.

* * *

After that phone call, a week had gone by without either of you hearing from the other. You were picking up around your apartment as it had started to reflect the messiness of your mind.

You decided to turn on the TV for some background noise and coincidentally it was on the celebrity entertainment channel.

"Ahh well at least i can see what a catastrophe other people's lives are ..." you murmured to yourself.

Snatching up some sticky candy wrappers from the kitchen counter, you headed to the trash partially listening to the overly enthusiastic TV hosts.

"Aaaand guess what folks?!? Next up we'll be talking about the rising athletic star SOUSUKE YAMAZAKI caught getting steamy with 3 Victoria Secret Models!!!" the man said.

"After securing his place at the Olympics games, it seems he got the surprise party of a lifetime!! And paparazzi caught ALL the sexy hot tub scenes so stay tuned!!" his co host added.

You felt sick and not just from the growing child inside you.

You wanted to look away but you couldn't help but stare at the images on your future child's father feeling and rubbing up on 3 other women in bikinis.

That son-of-a-bitch...

Right before the show faded to a commercial break, you heard, "haha wait, didn't he mention being in a relationship recen-?"

You realized that cutting people off was starting to become a bad habit of yours, but there was no way you would listen to any more of that.

"He sure does move on fast," you muttered.

You couldn't help but wonder if he had those girls or even others on the side while you two were together as well.

The way his hands would grab at ur body eagerly showed that he must've been more than touch starved when he was away, but rn,

"It's alright Y/N. It's alright," you repeated to yourself. "He's not a part of your life anymore. That's just how it is. You'll be an amazing single mom. You have supportive friends and family. You'll be fine. You didn't and still don't need him..."

Now you're crying.

You try to blame it on the pregnancy hormones but you know better.

You curl up on the sofa, not having the strength to drag yourself to your own bed, and continue to shed your tears. You've been getting used to the sensation of crying your eyes out, it has become a more frequent thing since the call and sweetie, you had many more crying sessions to come...

* * *

Five years later, here you are.

When Sousuke finally reached out after 3 years of complete radio silence, begging you to allow him into your son's life, you didn't hesitate to drop a cold-hearted "No."

Who tf does he think he is?!?

However, it was your friends and family who were the ones to urge you to reconsider, saying that it would be best for Zai. You were still reluctant but eventually gave in, only for your child's sake.

Sousuke didn't visit too often, but when he did, he was always bearing expensive gifts and a fun day out.

You hated to see your baby go off with that bag of shit but you were kinda happy for Zai. He was spoilt rotten whenever Sousuke came around to add more toys to his collection. He really enjoyed riding in his dad's luxury sports cars and visiting his over-the-top condos. However, you raised him well and he knew when it was time to go home.

You sometimes felt bad knowing that you couldn't afford all those things for Zai yourself but he never fussed about wanting to stay longer with his affluent father as he knew that his own home with you was just as rich in unconditional love. 🥰

Zai sat on a bench, swinging his tiny legs as he chowed down a corndog.

"All worn out kiddo?" Sousuke asked while taking a seat beside him.

"No! I still have to go on a few more rides so i can be named King of Fun Land!!" he exclaimed, stretching out his arms dramatically.

Sousuke chuckled as he grabbed a tissue to wipe the ketchup off his son's mouth.

"Well your mom made an appointment to get your hair cut so we have to finish up here quickly ok?"

"Ok!!" Zai chirped.

"Uhm...speaking of your mom...."

Zai was too enchanted by the tasty carnival food to notice the change in his father's behaviour and how he shifted awkwardly on the bench beside him, trying to find the right words.

"..does she ever talk about me?"

He felt like a complete loser asking such a question to a 5 year old, but he couldn't help it.

Despite his nonchalant attitude, he really does regret what he did. He wants to see his son grow and learn, he wants to be a part of his life, he wants your forgiveness and he wants to know if he even has a chance at gaining your forgiveness.

"I'm not allowed to repeat what mommy says. She says they're bad words and i shouldn't use them."

There it is. He has no chance. He knew that. But the confirmation still sliced his heart.

"Oh alright kiddo. Don't worry about it," Sousuke ruffled his son's hair and lowered his voice, "And uhh don't bother tell her that i asked."

* * *

Zai continued to have a fun day with his father. After his haircut, they fed the ducks, got icecream and before he knew it, it was time to go home. 

“Oh shit,” Sousuke cursed as he checked his watch. “Your mom is going to kll me.”

He buckled his son into his back seat and he made his way behind the wheel. He turned to his son behind him with a small smile and said, “I actually have to pick up...a friend of mine right now. Is that ok?” 

Part 2 coming soon

[inkandpen22]

Dazed and Confused ( S1: 3/?)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild language and violence 

Word Count: 3.1k

Part Summary: At Tina’s party, Y/N wants to forget all of her problems. Things take a turn when Billy makes a move on her, angering Steve

Masterlist

Arriving at Tina’s after dropping Dustin at Mike’s, I am in much need of some good old spiked punch. I yank down my gray oversized sweatshirt some more so that it hangs low off my shoulder. As I cross the threshold into the house, the heat of the crowded living room slaps me in the face. Directly to my left, the kitchen AKA the alcohol hub. I slip between bodies and end up at the counter covered with semi-empty bottles and old plastic cups. Most importantly, a bowl of maroon punch sits in the corner. I grab a cup and make my way over. A boy stands in front of it but I reach around him and scoop up some of the mystery substance.

“What’s in this?” I hear a voice holler behind me.

I turn around to answer but freeze when I realize it’s Nancy. She stares at me equally stunned. My face falls, this is awkward. Seriously universe? I couldn’t have at least one drink before bumping into her?

Steve appears behind her looking slick as ever in his black sunglasses and matching blazer.

“Everclear is my guess,” I answer, acting civil.

She nods timidly, “thanks…”

I step out of her way so she can get some of her own. Steve’s head travels up and down slowly with a blank expression. I can’t see his eyes but I assume he’s studying my costume. A gray oversized sweatshirt that hangs off the shoulder, red heels, matching earrings, and some shorts, though they’re unnoticeable. I can feel him starring me down through those stupid Ray-Bans. Silently, I beg for him to not bring up our encounter in the parking lot. All I wish for tonight is to drown out reality and try to forget. He’s a human ticking time bomb. The tension between us could be cut with a knife.

“Are you finally going to tell me what you are?” Nancy jumps in, forcing me to break my staring contest with her boyfriend.

I open my mouth to answer but Steve beats him to it.

“Flashdance,” he answers for me. “It’s one of her favorites.”

He acts distant, unattached, distracted by the party but I see right through it. There’s something he’s not saying. He says things like this as if it’s common knowledge. A random person wouldn’t describe my eyes as Y/E/C but gray depending on the lighting. One minute, he calls my eyes beautiful and the next he’s starring me down like a disapproving parent. The hell Harrington?!

Nancy gushes, apparently she and I are okay all of a sudden, despite early today with the whole Barb thing. Plus, I think she’s already been drinking for awhile so buzzed Nancy is fun Nancy.

“That’s so cute! You look hot!” She pulls me into a hug.

Over her shoulder, I glimpse up at Steve as he lifts his glasses to rest of his head. His brown eyes threaten to expose my upset from earlier. I get that he’s pissed about my neglect for my feelings. He wants to talk about what was wrong but right now we’re at a party and parties aren’t meant for depressing conversations.

“Let’s go dance!” Nancy suggests, already tugging me into the living room.

Steve calls after her but she ignores him. He follows behind us through the crowd with a groan. In the center of the living room, Nancy stops and turns to me with a bright grin. She cheers as she tosses her head back.

“Woohoo!” She laughs.

This is what I wanted, normalcy. We’re surrounded by our friends, drinking, dancing, being stupid! We did this before everything so why can’t we do it now? Perhaps after tonight, everything will fall back into place.

_______________________________________

On my third game of flip-cup, I’m beyond buzzed. In fact, when I walk I float. I’m on cloud nine. Here, this carefree and lively state is exactly where I wanted to be. Naturally, I’m competitive and amazing at drinking games so I finish my third game with yet another win. I cheer as Tommy from algebra hands me a cup of who knows what as my reward.

“Hey there beautiful,” a husky voice greets from behind me.

I spin around and kind of become dizzy from the action but catch myself.

It’s Billy.

“Hey hottie,” I smirk.

He snickers and closes the space between us to whisper in my ear. “How about you and I go somewhere a little more private?”

That’s a nice thought. He is cute. His ass could have its own zip code. Plus, he has no shirt on under that leather jacket, hello washboard like abs. His California tanned skin glistens under a thin layer of sweat. Damn, he’s a human Ken doll.

He’s no Steve though. Wait… what? I don’t think of Steve like that. Why would I think that? Um, yeah, that’s a no! Then again, Steve is always there for me. Sometimes it can be annoying how he’s always there. It means he cares but I don’t want to dump all of my drama on him. Then, he gets upset when I don’t open up. I hate it when I hurt him. I love him so much that when he’s in pain so am I.

“Okay,” I blurt out without truly thinking.

“Cool,” I hear him whisper as he takes my hand and starts pulling me toward the stairs across the room.

Wait, what? What am I doing? This isn’t me. I don’t like Billy. He treats Steve like shit. If anything I should kick his pretty ass. Though if I tried he’d probably murder me.

I glance down at his hand engulfing mine. It’s all rough and twice the size of my own. If we make it upstairs, it’ll be just him and I. I’ll be defenseless. I may be drunk but I’m not oblivious. My intuition is still working and it’s screaming for me to pull my shit together.

“Hey Billy? I don’t think…” I press my heels into the floor, slowing him down just as we reach the bottom of the stairs.

Aggressively, he whips around and purposefully towers over me to act intimidating. “What? Now, you’re saying no? Are you messing me? Playing with me!” He accuses.

I shake my head dramatically, “no! No, that’s not what-”

“Oh, so you still want to do this,” he presses.

Too impatient for an answer, he continues up the stairs. The grip he has on me has shifted up to my wrist. I attempt to tug myself free but fear dislocating it, his strength is too great. I stumble up the stairs behind me and I startle to feel dizzy. I think it’s safe to say I’ve had too much.

“No,” I whine, “I don’t want to! Stop! Please! I don’t want to! No!”

“Hey!” A booming voice echoes from the bottom of the stairs.

Rapid footsteps approach from behind me and a rush of relief consumes me when Steve appears beside me. He places a protective hand on my back.

“What the hell is going here?” He directs at Billy, taking note of his fist wrapped around my wrist.

“Nothing that concerns you, Harrington. Y/N and I were just heading upstairs.” He jolts his hand forward, causing me to traveling with it.

Steve instantly pries Billy’s hand from my body. Then, shoves him in the back, flying him forward to land with his ass on the stairs. “Don’t you ever touch her again! You hear me?!” He sneers. His face turns this deep red as he pants angrily.

The two start bickering but I can’t keep up. I see three Steves and a couple Billys shouting in each other’s faces. I lean against the railing unsteadily and slide down to sit on the steps. My eyes suddenly feel very heavy.

“I’m going to go to bed now,” I announce to no one in particular.

I decide to get some rest and shut my eyes. It’s okay, Steve’s here. He’ll protect me.

I’m not sure how much time has past when I hear Tommy and some of the other basketball boys come to break up the fight.

“Come on Y/N,” I hear Steve whisper to me, “let’s get you home.”

Feeling as light as a feather, I’m picked up like a sleepy child off the ground. For a moment, I fall asleep again. I rest my head on his chest and ponder the rare opportunity to sleep without being afraid of being eaten by a monster.

“Y/N?” I hear someone repeatedly call my name. “Y/N, wake up!”

I ease open my eyes and at first my vision is blurry but then they eventually adjust. Steve glances down at me as he we cross the threshold hold to the front yard.

“You smell like sunshine and all things exquisite,” I mumble to myself, adjusting myself in his arms to curl closer to his warmth.

“Even when hammered you still manage to be a walking thesaurus,” he teases.

Opps, he heard me. Oh well, I wasn’t lying. He smells like vanilla, the ocean, sugar, spice, and everything nice.

Goosebumps course over my skin as a brisk October breeze hits me. I shiver slightly and Steve holds me closer.

“We’re almost to my car. I’ll turn on the heat high. You’re okay,” he promises calmly.

Playing the hero, Steve places me into the passenger seat gently and straps me in. I toss my head to the side and rest my eyes again. He shuts the door for me before jogging to the driver’s side. The car drowns out the sound of chaos coming from the party and creates a sense of security. Steve slides behind the wheel and for some reason I choose now to act reasonable.

“Have you been drinking? If so, you shouldn’t drive,” I state like a health textbook.

He chuckles, popping in the keys. “I’m sober. Promise.”

“That’s nice. Good to know,” I yawn.

The last thing I can remember of the ride home is Steve turning on the car.

______________________________________

I wake up silently as Steve pulls up in front of my house. He’s unaware of my stare as he finishes parking and turning off the car.

“Hazel,” I tell him, announcing my woken state.

He looks to me with scrunched eyebrows, all confused. It’s cute when he does that. He’s cute. Geez, what the heck am I saying? He’s dating my best friend! Steve is Steve and Katherine, we don’t mix, at least that way.

“What?” He questions, turning to face me.

“Your eyes… they’re hazel…” I repeat softly with a yawn. “But, it really depends on the lighting.”

He snickers, and astonished expression blesses his features. The subtle blush forming on his cheeks makes me smile to see him all bashful because of my comment. He has no idea how gorgeous we truly is, inside and out. He glances down at his lap, at his hands fidgeting with a button on his jacket, then back up at me with hooded eyes.

“See, right now!” I point out, “they’re a dark brown like a burnt caramel, basically black. When you’re really focused on a task or upset about something, they go dark. Then, when you’re really happy or excited, they turn to a light hazel… like seaglass. It’s how I can tell if something’s bothering you. You don’t even have to tell me half the time. All I have to do is look into your eyes and I know,” I state a matter-of-factly with a light snicker.

I shift you see him directly and tuck a few strands of my hair away from my face. He watches my every move patiently, eagerly, for me to say something more, anything. I can’t speak for him but my heart won’t stop racing. Is it possible to have stage fright in a conversation? I feel like a mannequin, on display. Nervously, I twirl my hair at the ends and find myself unable to meet his gaze anymore.

“Your pupils are rarely small,” I add quietly. “They’re usually really big and take up most of your eye giving off the illusion they’re black. One thing that never changes is…”  I make a circle with my finger in front of my eye to demonstrate, “is the gold rim around each of them.” I lower my hand into my lap and play with the end of my sweatshirt. “That’s my favorite part… ” I confess timidly.

I wouldn’t be saying these things if I were sober. I wish he would say something, anything. He must think I’m crazy. He finds me with Billy heading up stairs. I can only imagine what he must think of me now. Embarrassed beyond belief and sobering up, I excuse myself.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say as I unbuckle myself. “See you Monday!”

Swiftly, I climb out of the car. As I walk toward my front door, I curse myself for acting so stupid! Geez, what was I thinking? ‘The gold rim around each of them, that’s my favorite part!’ What kind of mushy, guhsy, marshmallow fluff is that? Ew! If he never spoke to me again I would judge that as completely reasonable! He has a girlfriend! He’s taken! Completely off limits! Why did I spew out this creepy nonsense to him like a total idiot? I’m not some lovesick teenage girl! I’m going to go to my room, put in some Guns N’ Roses, and just scream into my pillow all weekend! It sounds like an excellent plan to me because I just ruined my friendship with Steve forever! Add Nancy to that list because once he fills her in on what I said I’ll lose both of them!

“Y/N!” He calls after me.

I ignore it as I march faster toward the door. He’s only going to call me crazy because I was acting crazy!

“Y/N, wait!” He repeats as I hear him shut the car door and run toward me.

“Goodnight, Steve!” I urge him away without turning around.

His footsteps speed up until they come to a halt directly behind me. I reach for the door handle, my freedom. Desperately, he grips my forearm and steps in front of me, blocking the front door.

“Look, could you just slow down for a sec?” He yells at me as he pants to catch his breath.

“No! I can’t slow down! I just want to go inside, get in my pajamas, and forget tonight ever happened! Alright? Now, excuse me,” I gesture for him to get out of the way.

Reluctantly, paired with an overly dramatic eye roll, he steps aside. Despite wanting his to leave, I thank him quietly for cracking open the front door slowly, making sure not to wake anyone.

“Nance and I broke up…” Steve drops on me.

My heart leaps and I stop dead in my tracks. Unsure of what to do or say, I remain still in the doorway and wait for him to say more.

“She never loved me,” he explains with a heartbroken tone. “At least… I don’t think she did…”

Shit. Please don’t tell me that, Harrington. It only makes me want you more. He’s always so close but too far out of reach. I care about him more than anything but he’ll never mine. I’m just the friend.

I spin on my heels and offer him a sympathetic smile, “would you like to come in?”

He nods, clearly miserable. I step aside, allowing him in. After shutting the door behind us, I warn him to be quiet so we don’t wake my parents. He nods slowly and slips his hand into mine. Never breaking eye contact with me, he leads the way through the moonlit house toward my room. His platonic touch is so blissful, I can only imagine what it feels like otherwise.

_________________________________

Steve and I sit on my bed in our usual positions with my record player going quietly. He lounges like a patient in therapy and me, acting as his therapist, criss-cross beside him. He explains everything. He describes how drunk Nancy got and how he followed her to the bathroom. It was there they got into a fight. She admitted feeling guilty for the loss of Barb. Then, she called all of it bullshit. Us acting like carefree teenagers, never telling Barb’s parents the truth, her love for Steve, all of it is bullshit. He asked Jonathan to take her home and that’s when he stumbled upon me and Billy.

Watching Steve relive it all and hearing the pain in his voice breaks my heart. How could Nance do this to him? I get that she’s going through something, we all are. I’m by no means normal. I’m hiding everything for Pete’s sake! I haven’t been myself for over a year. Steve was just now becoming truly happy again! He was putting on a brave face for Nancy for so long! Now, she crushed it. She crushed him.

I reach and place my hand over his as they rest intertwined on his stomach. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

“I really loved her. At least, I think I did. I don’t know anymore. I thought she loved me too.”

“I did too,” I tell him honestly.

He glances away from the ceiling down to me, “what can I do?”

I wish I knew the answer. I wish there was a way I could take away his pain. Yet, I have nothing. I shrug, “I’m not entirely sure. I think you should at least talk to her.

Tomorrow, of course, when she’s sobered up. Perhaps, she was just drunk and didn’t mean what she said. She wasn’t in the proper mindset.”

“So I shouldn’t take what she said to heart?”

“Well, there’s also the argument that drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Does the same go for you?” He snickers.

I laugh, “sometimes.”

“So you don’t like the gold in my eyes? I thought it was your favorite part?” He smirks, turning to lay on his side and face me. My hand would’ve fallen off his hadn’t he flipped his over to catch it.

Ugh, he’s such a sneaky jerk! His cheeky smirk only grows with my silence. Warmth rushes to my cheeks as I bashfully hide my face.

“Yeah… about that…” I laugh nervously, “let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“Should I forget that you also said I smell like sunshine and everything exquisite?” He adds to the torment.

I groan, tossing my head back. This must count as torture. “Preferably, yes,” I request shortly.

We share a laugh at my annoyed reaction. He’s impossible! Even he should be mopping he still manages to tease me!

A comfortable silence fills the air and I stare down at the pillow in my lap as I play with the lettering on it.

________________________________

Masterlist

[nck-nck]

I need to write some things down because I feel like it would make me feel .01% better today. My memory has been really bad lately and the thoughts come and go so fast these days, I can't keep anything organized. I have had a stressful day, so this will probably be plenty dramatic and silly sounding.

But this will include some talk about suicidal feelings, self critique and harsh words about these subjects since I have felt so sad/mad/confused.

I have been depressed with worsening anxiety for more than a year and it came to a head one day when I was running hot, stressed and upset, fresh out of a stupid argument with my GF. The argument was senseless and small, but it was like the hair that broke the camel's back. I was thinking a lot because that's all I have been able to do about stuff since I am breaking myself of bad anger habits, and I was trying to think about it all. To try to see the whole picture, the current state of the world, my body, my life and it's effects on the world, weather being alive means anything to anyone except me, what I could possibly do about the future, and if any of this is real, to begin with. This didn't go well. Maybe people aren't supposed to think about all of that all at once, especially if you're already in a state, but we just cannot figure out every single why. This lead to me crying a lot and eventually yelling to myself "I never wanted to kill myself before"

I don't know what exactly I meant by this, "before" but I think I was trying to say "before" I grew up and got so dependent on this terrible world, while feeling, after so long, that the world really was terrible. I was doing all this by myself, and I didn't know it, but my GF had heard me saying/yelling these things from right outside. I felt pinned and embarrassed that my "crazy" thoughts had become audible but it was the first time I was able to tell someone I wanted to die. It came from a deep wanting for escape or for another chance and reset. I still feel like I am completely free falling in time and where I end up is by the random chaos I believe in. Perhaps because I feel so out of control, that's the only rational thing I can come up with to ground myself, "it's all crazy, you're not crazy"

It helped me a lot to finally express these feelings to someone else and I told my therapist that week too. I never told my GF because, well I was confused, but it was also in an effort to not put that pressure on someone else, especially a loved one. Death is not to be taken lightly so I wanted to be sure about how I felt and what I was talking about.

There was a pointent and beautiful episode of Watchmen where a character said "You cannot heal under a mask, wounds need air" and it made a lot of sense to me, especially after feeling some relief. I am taking my meds, seeing the doc, and trying to take of myself. Or thinking about taking care of myself more. And I do attribute some of this progress from finally telling someone. Its hard every day and I have more bad days than good days, still. It has made me physically ill too, stomach issues, heart palpitations, food dependency, headaches, crying, mood swings.. just a grab bag of stupid symptoms.

I started a new job in March and it has added a lot of stress and fear to my life. Its a good job and they seem decent, but it is a lot to learn right now. It's the opposite from my last job and I am work from home now. I'm trying like heck, but I'm not doing great with it. They have been nice and understanding and of my situation but clients and customer are not! Lol. I don't know what the answer is for anyone in this predicament. There is just no pause button for anyone. People will continue to want and need, money will continue to be need for everything, and time will March relentlessly onwards. We don't have a break built in for anyone at all. I hope others in worse situations can find some peace or understanding...

American health care sucks, mental health care sucks even more, and men's mental health care? Lmao.

No point to this other than for me write it down. I'm only speaking from my own perspective and I am being selfish. No point to make, no argument, just want to write it down in the void. So I am sorry if you have read this for any payoff. I have nothing to give! Just nobody get mad at me, it might make me lay down for a long time. I'm not as social or as nice or funny or excited about most things anymore. I'm trying to get better.

Just try to be nice to people when you can and tell your friends that you love them.

[ittakesrain]

I’m hesitant to say this round is over. I won’t say that just yet. The remnants of unbearable fear are still with me, the trauma is still too recent.

Like, fuck. It was (I’ll use the past tense there) like 15 or so days of just. Well, if you’ve read my shit before you know what it was like. Or if you’re unlucky enough to suffer this sinister fucking disorder, you know. You don’t need me reminding you.

It always starts with the violent, aggressive, uncontrollable irritability. It has no actual cause and therefore no clear way to be diffused. It’s terrifying. I notice it in the car the most, driving. No matter who’s in front of me and no matter how they’re driving, I am angry. Intensely. White-hot rage is literally all I know or have ever known.

Then major depression. I noticed that when I was driving during that phase, I was angry as fuck still but literally to weary to respond with anger. It turned inward and tore me apart from the inside. It literally radiates off of me (like my anxiety does). My boyfriend always comments when he feels it radiating off of me.

Sidenote, I love that he senses/sees the changes that happen within me. They’re so sudden and for no reason, and they leave me feeling crazy (I already feel crazy like, generally, but I’m constantly questioning like “did that really just happen, did I really just sob hysterically for an hour?”).

After that (or along with it) comes anxiety. Fuck the fucking anxiety. Like, physical panic attack symptoms coupled with the racing thoughts, none of which I can fully latch onto, most of them scary, many of them about death. It’s just indescribable to not have a safe place in your brain. No amount of visualization or breathing can fix it. Not even having someone next to me speaking words of comfort. Not even a hug, and I love hugs.

I had family stuff all weekend, and my cousins were visiting from another state. And it was terrible because I spent one day holding back tears and hiding and then actually letting the tears just fuckin’ flow. I couldn’t even bring myself to make eye contact with anyone that day. Yesterday was a little better. I was mopey and uncomfortable and distracted and totally not myself.

Then, of course, I got home and was hysterical for a little over an hour. And not that I wanna put myself back in that terrible, terrible moment (or any of the MANY previous ones I’ve had), but I just remember so vividly wondering how I’d ever be able to function again. I couldn’t fathom how I’d ever been able to function before. There was no escape, nothing else but inward-pointing disgust and depression and fear. I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t stop dwelling on the fact that I’m only fucking 28 and that this thing is gonna live with me for the rest of  my ever, and it might get worse and there’s no cure and like. Yeah, the cure thing. I explained to a friend of mine that “cure” is not a thing. Meds are not a cure, therapy is not a cure, doing all the right things is not a cure. They help. They give me better tools to survive the next round. But that’s all it is, most times: survival.

Sounds like a totally negative way to view it. And I feel no guilt for feeling that way. This. Shit. Sucks. I deserve a pity party after every fucking episode. At least grant me that (not that I need or am asking for permission).

Also, could timing possibly have been any worse? Ugh. I missed them all and they were physically here. The guilt I felt made things worse. The longing didn’t help either.

And I’m pretty sure none of them have ever seen me quite that bad. I was afraid I scared or upset them. But honestly, they are all so understanding and helpful and supportive, and the tremendous amount of love I feel for them is mind-blowing. I am so lucky, and I’m at a loss for words. I doubt that in a lifetime of writing and collecting words, I’ll ever get enough to explain how lucky I am or how much all that means to me.

And I have to mention my sister. And brother in law. Not only their actually support, but they were sending pictures of my amazing perfect adorable pure nephew. Immediately puts a smile on my face. Lots of people reminded me that he’s a big WHY. I want to be the aunt he deserves. And I know I can be, although I dread having to explain to my little guy why Aunt Laura loses it every now and again (but there’s a Dr Seuss book about feelings which is actually totally about bipolar disorder that I’m gonna use when he’s old enough). It sometimes hurt that I had to feel so shitty and have that someone be connected to how he was making me feel better. There was some measure of guilt that I can’t explain. But my god is his little face and his little rolls worth it.

Right. So I’m feeling better but not ready to call it being out of the woods yet. If nothing else I think it’ll be less dramatic from here on out, and I think it’ll be less rapid cycling. I think I’ll be at least somewhat less reactive to tiny insignificant bullshit going “wrong.”

Mind you, this is all sheer optimism and positivity. And I do not for a single second take for granted the fact that I am, at this moment, capable of thinking that way. It’s fleeting. All of this is fleeting. I mean, life can be looked at that way by everyone, which might be a helpful push toward “living in the moment.” But bipolar fleeting. Moods are fleeting. Flux is constant and its effects are omnipresent.

I’m just trying to find the silver lining. Wrap this up in a bow, as I tend to do. Actually no, as I need to do. And like, don’t we all? Part of what made this episode suck so bad was that I couldn’t write (even though I had some deadlines) and I couldn’t describe this bullshit in a way that I haven’t already. Each bought of insanity brings with it new…shit. And it is infuriating to not be able to explain it again. Also, I couldn’t move let alone form words. Couldn’t make eye contact let alone summon the energy to talk with other human beings.

I dunno. I guess for now I’m gonna focus (something I’m able to do again!) on finding the beauty in the spaces in between the chaos. Find a way to drill it so deep in my brain that I’ll inherently remember it (or just fucking FEEL it) next depression (well actually this was a mixed episode but whatever).

Until I get around to doing that, peace out, internet.

[artistic-writer]

Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Chapter 8

Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan must return home to her childhood town of Storybrooke when her mother dies and stays in the house left to her and her brother, David Nolan. Emma must juggle a temporary job at the hospital with her loss, something that has made her feel smaller than she ever was. When a tall, dark, handsome stranger comes into her life in the most unexpected way, and she begins to fall in love, will she stay in Storybrooke, or return to her new life back in New York?

Rating: E

Previous: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Things are starting to get dramatic now, a little more angst before things get better.  But hey.  This is me. Many thanks to my lovely beta, @kmomof4 who persuaded me that this would work as a CS fic in the first place.  

——————————————————————————————

Emma had spent most her working day avoiding Jenny and making sure she kept herself busy. She didn’t even want to think about Killian, and seeing the smug, thin lipped smile on Jenny’s face made her seethe. But why? Killian had not proposed a relationship to her officially, and she had not minded really, her intention to leave Storybrooke always there. They had sex and it was good beyond arguable doubt, but she had found out the hard way that Killian was a liar. Most men were in her experience, and a tiny part of her wished she could have met her father’s doppelganger instead of Killian so she wouldn’t be feeling the emptiness she did now.

Killian Jones wasn’t special and Emma had spent a good portion of the day asking herself why she had let him in so willingly. It was unusual for her to be physically attracted to both a man’s body and his brain so easily. In most cases, men lacked the ability to own both a good body and a good brain, but Emma had seen something different in Killian. He was smart, and he was charming, and he was physically fit and healthy. He was, in terms of the female perspective, the ideal mate. He was perfect. He could provide, he could entertain and he could protect. Maybe that was why she had let him into her home, her shower, her heart and her bed so easily.

Maybe that’s why she hurt so much right now.

Some people would call her some unsavoury names for what had happened between them. If they were in a relationship, a real working couple that kissed, cuddled and held hands in public, then the shower, bedroom and on-call room romps would be considered lovemaking. They would be two, consenting adults in a relationship that made love, but because they had neither accepted nor denied they were a couple and had told no one about them being together, then Emma and Killian were just having sex.

‘Were’ was the correct term, as in past tense. After Killian’s little amnesia stint last night, Emma never wanted to see him again. She hated him, but not the hate of an indignant spouse but the hate of a woman who had been lied to. Killian had lied to her; she had proved that in her very own lounge. He had looked her in the eye and denied the fact he had slept with Jenny. If he had admitted it she might have been a little more understanding, but he hadn’t and she had no mercy left. Better to make a clean break now before things got complicated.

Standing in her kitchen, the bright LED lighting shining down onto her back as she made herself a cup of coffee, Emma had never felt so depressed. Even if she did hate Killian right now, it didn’t stop her from missing him. Emma leaned sideways against the edge of her counter, crossing her bare feet at her ankles and laying one arm over her chest. Her other arm was occupied with stirring her coffee, whisking the black, steaming liquid into a hurricane in her mug, idly wishing he was there to comfort her.

Emma had been stirring for a little over five minutes and her hand had grown clammy from its close proximity to the steam radiating from the coffee. She had taken a personal day so that he couldn’t find her at the hospital, and had gone for comfort dressing; Large, long pyjama pants that scuffed the floor under her heels and oversized red t-shirt. She didn’t remember where she got it from but it made her feel safe when she was feeling vulnerable. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail but a few stray strands sprang from behind her ears and fell to frame her face. Emma didn’t know why she was even having a coffee. There was no reason in it and she rarely even drank hot beverages unless she was in a restaurant, and even then it was hot chocolate, but for some reason, the churning blackness reminded her of Killian and she longed to taste him on her tongue again.

And then, as if on cue, her phone began to ring. Its shrill tone circulated her hall, echoing into the kitchen. Emma didn’t look up because she knew it was Killian. He’d called the house so many times since yesterday that she had stopped running for the phone in case it was someone else. Emma hadn’t said a word to him each time, just slammed the phone back down and stormed off with a growl. She could unplug the line at the wall, but then she wouldn’t get the tingling feeling she craved so much every time Killian’s sultry drone jumped from the answering machine.

“Emma, it’s me again,” Killian audibly sighed into his phone and his breathy grunt vibrated around Emma’s house. She stopped her stirring for a second, dragging the metal spoon up the side of the mug and letting a few drips fall back into the void. She padded from the kitchen, intrigued to be closer to his voice. Emma wished she were closer to him. Her heart ached for him and every time she tried to tell herself he was nothing, he would call back and she would go crashing back into the depressive void of wanting him again.

Emma paused next to the answering machine, trailing her finger over the speaker softly and tenderly like it was Killian’s face and she was teasing his lips with her thumb. If it were Killian, the corner of his mouth would turn up in a shy smile and he would dip his head low, averting his gaze with a slight chuckle. To Emma’s disappointment, the machine simply sat silent, Killian’s frustrated sighs the only sound coming from their speaker.

“I don’t know-,” He paused. “What do you want me to say?” His voice begged from the black, rubbery machine. He sighed again and Emma could hear him moving around, probably undressing for bed. It was late and she wondered why she was even still up. She cast a glance outside into the dark street, the only light coming from a few street lamps further down the street, glowing down onto the pavement and the bright glare of a car’s headlight at it drove past. The engine roared up the neighbourhood and a dog started barking in the distance, hastily told to be quiet by a gruff voice.

“Maybe you’re in bed already,” Killian’s words trailed off. If it was possible, Emma thought his voice was even more seductive than in person, deepened by the travel along wires and communication technologies that had it jumping into the room and making love to her ears. “I think we need to talk, Emma. There has been a mistake somewhere. I’m not the man you think I am. I would never-,” Killian softly pleaded with no one, his last words tinted with frustration. There was a long pause and Emma thought he was gone before she heard the crackle of movement from the other end of the phone. “I really like you, Emma. I miss you, love,” Killian finally whispered, letting his words linger in the phone a little longer before finally hanging up.

Before she knew what she was doing, Emma’s hand shot out and she grabbed the phone from the stand, clutching it to her ear in the hopes he was still there. Why had she turned off her cell again? Being away from him was becoming increasingly difficult and it had only been a day. The single dial tone entered her ear cavity and echoed against her eardrum, indicating the line was dead and Killian had gone. Emma’s entire body relaxed a little but the butterflies still fluttered around her stomach as she involuntarily clutched the phone harder to her ear. Even if she harboured a lingering doubt, Emma still missed him like nothing she could describe.

--

“ Mr Jones,” the hospital administrative secretary sighed from behind the desk in a tired tone. “Dr Swan doesn’t want to see you.” Her voice was defiant and even though she was small and very finely built, she was trying to act as aggressive as she could.

Killian shook his head, letting out a sigh with a downturned frown. He shuffled his feet against the tiled floor and the faint smell of cleaning fluid wafting in the halls of the pristine hospital. “I’ve just come to see a nurse and have my stitches out,” Killian admitted sadly. “I’m not here to see Em…Dr. Swan,” he correctly quickly, gulping hard at the mere thought of her.

It had been half a week since Emma had avoided him completely and he had postponed coming to the hospital to get his stitches removed in respect of her wishes. Emma didn’t want to see him and he felt too strongly about her to upset her anymore. Somehow he had already managed to slip into his own depression, the loss he felt too strong to deny even to himself, but the pull of the stitches against his scalp had become too painful to ignore anymore. He just hoped he could be in and out before Emma spotted him.

The receptionist looked up at him and she softened a little. He looked pathetic and beaten, his three days of facial growth starting to curl back towards his skin and his eyes blackened from lack of sleep. She tore her eyes from his dishevelled clothing long enough to type his name into the computer and make a note that he was here. “You’re lucky,” she lied, bumping his name to the top of the list through pity. “If you go straight to curtain three, Jenny can take your stitches out now, and then you can go get cleaned up before Emma sees you like that,” she stared at him over the rim of her oval glasses and gave him a serious nod.

Killian nodded in agreement and took the chart she handed to him. “Thank you,” he breathed, his mouth twisting at the corner in the first smile that had graced his lips in nearly four days. It didn’t sound like a long time, and he had seen Emma for even less time, but now that he knew she possibly never wanted to see him again, he was so scared. He was scared of going to work every day and having to explain to David why he wasn’t working to his full potential. He was scared of having to admit to himself that maybe he had been wrong at one stage in his life and losing Emma was some kind of wicked karma. Most of all, Killian was scared of never being able to tell her how much he now realised he loved her.

The hospital was quiet today, especially for a Wednesday. Emma always had half days on Wednesdays and she had previously agreed to let him take her to lunch today. Killian dragged his feet, keeping his head hanging low as he made his way into the triage unit and tried not to think about it. He paused and his rubber soled shoes squeaked on the floor underfoot while he lifted his head and inspected the vibrant red numbers hanging from a solid metallic pole on each cubicle. He spied curtain three and then saw some shadows moving underneath the rippled pink fabric, cast across the green of the linoleum floor by some hospital issue slip-on shoes.

Pulling back the curtain, Killian saw the back of the nurse he had been assigned. He shuffled into the cubicle and took a seat down next to the tray of implements, each one as sharp and silvery as the one sitting next to it. They all rested on some dark blue tissue paper and Killian stared at his reflection in them for a second.

“Okay, what can I do for you today?” The nurse chimed, her dirty blonde locks swinging half a second slower than her body as she turned around to look at the man in front of her. She was still arranging her latex gloves on her fingers and reached out to pick up the chart Killian had left sitting next to the tray on tools in front of him. “Killian…Jones?” she gasped shocked, snapping her head up to look at him with wide eyes.

Killian knew who she was as soon as she had turned around. Her hair had changed length but was still the same colour. Light, yellowing blonde mixed with some traces of darker, browner hairs but it had grown longer and she’d straightened it. Her cheeks flushed with a pink glow and she went rigid, her fingers turning white against the cool plastic of the chart in her hand. The silence in the cubicle was deafening and Killian’s eyes darted to the nametag that was pinned to the pink jersey covering her salmon scrubs.

“Jenny?” he spat, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest. “That’s original,” he growled, staring at her.

Jenny shifted her position and hugged the clipboard to her chest, the plastic of her nametag clattering against the metallic clip at the top of the board. “I had to change my name,” she shrugged, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. “I couldn’t get within a hundred yards of you called Shelley, now could I?”

Killian clenched his jaw. “That was the point, Shelley,” he droned angrily. “It’s called a restraining order for that exact reason.” Killian stood and paced the cubicle, rubbing his fingers through his stubble and exhaling hard. His breath condensed against his palm and he balled his hand into a fist, pounding it loosely against his forehead. “I could have you arrested right now,” he grunted, turning to look at her.

Jenny, formerly Shelley, stalked towards him, stopping by the table of implements and resting Killian’s chart on the tray with a clatter of metal against plastic. She reached out to touch him on the arm, smoothing her fingertips over the fabric of his coat as her eyes molested his body. “No,” she sighed dramatically. “You really couldn’t Killian.”

Killian whipped his gaze towards her and narrowed his eyes. He shook her hand from his arm and took a step back from her, stumbling into the cupboard of medications behind him. He stared at her questioningly, tilting his head and letting out a sadistic laugh as he balanced his weight behind him on the countertop, eyes wide with realisation. “Of course.” Killian shook his head, cursing himself for being so ridiculous. “You’ve changed your name,” he breathed.

“That’s right,” Shelley said triumphantly, taking another step towards him. “And the restraining order was issued for a Shelley Madison, not Jennifer Madison,” she smirked evilly. “You can’t touch me, Killian. Although, I wish you would.” She pouted and gave him a hungry stare, biting her bottom lip.

Killian looked at her again and took another step away from her. “You’re crazy,” he whispered. “I don’t know what you think you’ve accomplished by doing this…” Killian began but her excited rant cut him off.

“Don’t you see?!” She sang enthusiastically, clapping her hands together at her chest. “Killian, we can be together now. You and I can be together, just like we want.” She nodded at him with a broad smile on her face.

“What?!” Killian snapped, holding out his hand and pointing to her. “You want that,” he accused. “I never wanted that. You…” he said, pointing to her menacingly and letting a short burst of laughter bubble from his throat. “You are insane, Shelley.” Killian pulled open his jacket and reached into the inside pocket for his cell phone. He swiped the screen open and punched in three numbers.

“What are you doing, my love?” Shelley soothed, watching his hands as he dialled and then lifted the cell phone to his ear. Her smile faded and her eyes searched his face.

“I’m calling the bloody police, Shelley,” Killian said loudly, turning from her and stalking across the cubicle again. “There is absolutely no way you managed to change your name legally,” he accused sharply, pointing at her again. Shelley blushed and looked down to her feet, confirming his accusation. “And you are breaking the terms of the order right now!” Killian bellowed, pointing to the floor angrily.

“Okay, so I sort of acquired a fake ID and stuff,” Shelley said with a shrug, walking towards him and reaching for the phone pressed to his head. Her long, delicate fingers traced over Killian’s knuckles, sliding down to his palm and across the cell phone. Killian spun to her and pulled her hand away from his roughly.

“Don’t touch me,” he spat, his voice dark and void of emotion. “Everything you touch just dissolves around me!” he roared. “I went on one date with you. One date! We never kissed. We never slept with each other. And yet, you thought the complete opposite and my life was ruined!” He took a step towards her, his blood boiling under his skin and making his entire body hot and clammy.

Shelley smiled at him sweetly and Killian thought he might throw up. “Why are you so mad, lover?” she whispered at him, flicking her tongue out across the cherry red lipstick on her lips.

“Mad?!” Killian laughed wildly, turning from her again. “I’m not mad,” he shouted sarcastically. “Why would I be mad? I’ve only had to move house, change my car, my email, my phone numbers,” he trailed off, waving his arms erratically around the small, enclosed space. He took a long breath, trying to push away the hatred he felt for her. “I had to get a bloody restraining order to keep you away from me!”

“That’s just a technicality,” Shelley smiled, running her fingers through her hair. She turned from him, sighing dramatically and rolling her eyes. “Like that sickly cute blonde you’ve been seeing.” Her voice turned darker, tainted with jealousy, and Killian spun to face her, his jaw hanging open.

“You,” he growled accusingly, willing the police to answer their ringing telephone. Everything became clear. Jenny wasn’t someone he had been trying to remember for the last three days; Jenny was someone he had been trying to forget for nearly two years. Only, Emma didn’t realise that and he had to tell her before she gave up on him forever.

“Aww,��� Shelley cooed with an evil grin when she saw his realisation. “It’s okay, baby,” she soothed, stepping towards him again. Killian took a step back and was suddenly pressed against the wall. “She couldn’t love you like I do anyway,” Shelley whispered, pressing her hands to his chest. Killian looked over to his left, noticing the red, security button hidden between a mess of tangled tubes and an unplugged heart monitor. He quickly pushed against Shelley’s shoulder’s, making her stumble in her heels that clicked against the floor and he flattened his palm over the button, immediately calling for security just as the call to the police finally connected.

“Thank the gods,” Killian whispered to himself. “Hello, my name is Killian Jones. I have a restraining order out against a Shelley Madison and she is breaking the terms right now. Yes, I’d like her arrested. Now,” Killian said, staring over at Shelley’s shocked face as the woman on the other end of the phone busily tapped away at a computer, searching for the order. Killian told the woman on the telephone where he was and no sooner had he done so, two burly security guards burst into the cubicle with police static erupting from their shoulder bound radios, and arrested Shelley.

“You can’t quit our love!” Shelley crowed as one of the guards wrenched her hands behind her back and handcuffed her. Killian stepped aside as she was lead from the cubicle, his only thought of Emma. He had to find her.

--

So far, Emma’s day had been eventful, but so far, there had been no Killian Jones to ruin it. A few runny noses with a side helping of sickness meant the city was heading for an outbreak. Emma had treated seven patients today with the same symptoms, two of which had been admitted after spontaneously fainting, and three of which felt like they could pass out and had been brought in by a concerned family member.

It wasn’t even a prejudice bug either because all of her patients ranged from a few months old to the elderly. There was so much coughing, patients heaving in their beds and gasping for much needed air after each convulsion, Emma had taken it upon herself to wear a mask. The thin, light blue cotton fabric wasn’t a surefire fail safe way of prevention, but it was as good of a prophylactic as anyone who worked in an ER would get.

And then there was Jenny, the delicately beautiful and sickeningly sweet nurse who had haunted Emma’s every thought. She often sat on her own, filling out paperwork, wishing she was writing out the time of death on Jenny’s death certificate. Even if she wasn’t qualified to actually do that, it still felt good to daydream. Apparently, when she returned from lunch, there had been some kind of commotion in the emergency room and Jenny had been carted off in steel bracelets.

A satisfied smile crept across Emma’s face, much like the one she had worn when she had been told about Jenny’s rather public exit from the hospital, and she sighed happily, holding onto the feeling she held in her heart. It was warm, almost heated from the depth of Hell itself, and she knew it was wrong to feel like it but she didn’t care. Emma had got her retribution on Jenny, or at least, someone watching over her had made sure she had.

Rounding the corner to her neighbourhood, Emma was met with the blinding deep orange of the sunset over the horizon. It still blazed in the sky, making her squint and instantly reach up for the sun visor of her classic bug. It slapped against the windshield and when Emma opened her eyes wider, she gripped at the steering wheel in half anger, half anticipation of what she saw standing in her parking space.

Killian looked worn and tired and he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and even that was just a guess. His jacket was dirty and his skin was almost the same colour as the ground he was standing on. As the car neared the space and she stopped it in the road, he quickly rushed to the side, motioning for her to roll the window down with a waving of his hand. Emma gulped, looking away from him quickly and gripping harder to the wheel. If she didn’t, she’d be tempted to push the door open and tend his wounds, righting his wrongs and mending his broken heart with all the forgiveness she could muster. Emma was trapped between two levels. On one she desperately wanted him to tell her he had never ever met Jenny and she wanted to believe him. On the other, her rationale told her that regardless of how broken he seemed right now, his suffering was worth it because of how he had made her feel.

Finally, she grabbed the outdated handle and began winding it backwards, the glass sliding against the rubber seals as it opened. She kept her eyes forward, not looking at him as he spoke her name like a whisper of relief. “Emma.”

Killian’s heart twisted in his chest and he had totally forgotten what he wanted to say at the mere sight of her. “Get out of my space, Killian,” Emma said, her voice tired and physically drained. Her shoulders slumped against the back of the seat, aching but itching for his touch.

“Emma, please listen to me,” Killian tried again, stepping closer to the car. The engine was still running, ticking over in the quiet street and it took all Emma had not to jerk forward and leave him standing in the void of her allocated parking space.

“Killian, please,” Emma stopped him, tilting her head back and audibly sighing into the car. Killian watched her closely and swallowed a lump in his throat. He wanted her to say she knew. He wanted her to tell him that she understood. If she didn’t it would be hard to explain and even harder to understand as an outsider. Finally, she turned her weary head towards his and peeled her eyes open to meet his. “Are you going to move or do I have to park down the street?”

Killian felt all the blood drain from his face at her cold, harsh words. They were not what he had been expecting and they took him by surprise. He blinked a few times, staring at her dumbly with his mouth agape and the wind tugging gently at his jacket. One side flapped open and Emma sighed, stepping on the rubbery pedal and accelerating past him toward the next space around the corner.

“Emma! Wait!” Killian’s eyes went wide and he bolted after her car, his boots pounding the asphalt as he chased after her car. The wind whipped at his face, prickling against his cheeks and turning them a rosy pink shade as he thudded to a halt in the middle of the road, unable to keep up with the pace of the bug. His arm hung loosely at his sides and he grabbed his sides, desperately needing oxygen in his muscles. He pinched his eyes closed and hunched over painfully, panting hard and his lungs burning from his sudden exertion. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of one of the neighbour's walls, so without further thought, he sprang for it, leaning against the gritty wall of the red brick building and waited.

Emma sat in her car for fifteen minutes, just to make sure he had gone. She could hear every second ticking down on her watch combined with the gentle sounds of her engine as the bug cooled down. As she sat in her car, she contemplated many things. She considered driving back to the hospital to find out why Jenny had been frogmarched out of the ER in handcuffs. She considered rushing out of the car and into Killian’s arms, telling him she didn’t care who he was because she was in love with him. And above all, she considered leaving Storybrooke and never returning.

Killian looked at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time in a minute and the illuminated hands gently ticked on by. Emma had gone around the corner over fifteen minutes ago and still, she had not returned. The sun had finally dwindled in the sky and the street lamp above Killian flickered to life. He tilted his face up towards it, listening to the hum of electricity surge through the stem of the lamp, igniting the fake daylight that basked his sorrowful face in a dim orange glow.

His intrigue was so engrossed in the inner working of the lamp that he nearly missed Emma as she walked past. Her head was held high, and her keys jingled in her hands as she fiddled for her front door key, the metallic objects clinking against each other and grabbing his attention. Killian looked over at her, double taking when he mistook her silky, yellow hair for a darker chestnut brown in the darkness. When she passed under the next streetlamp and it illuminated her tresses with the radiance of the sunrise, Killian stumbled over his feet to catch up.

“Emma!” he called, jogging to her and his breath leaving his mouth and instantly cooling into condensation in the air. “Emma, please wait,” He begged, quickening his pace when she did.

“No, Killian,” she said firmly, clinking her low heels harder on the ground as she strode determinedly for her front door. All she had to do was reach the gate. All she had to do was cross over the line between the real world and her childhood land of dreams and fantasies and she would be safe.

“Emma, I can explain. I can explain everything,” Killian tried again, quickly shooting a glance down at the ground as he walked, careful not to trip her up with his incessant pleading. He was walking awkwardly beside her, half in front of her, half to her side and he was holding out his chilled hands to her in a forgiving beg. “Please!” he said a little firmer, stepping in front of her and jogging back down the sidewalk.

Emma clutched her bag harder to her torso, the well sewn brown leather feeling sticky under her sweaty fingertips. She kept her focus on the ground before her, the flash of gum and stains that were stuck to the pavement passing her eyes as she strode forward. “Killian,” she tried again, not looking at him but letting out a growl of frustration when he began to slow down in front of her. She stopped dead, two houses from hers and her shoulders slumped back in their joints when she looked back up to him. “What?”

Taken back by her callous, snappy words, Killian stopped for a second. He kept his distance, at least a few feet from her and felt the heat generated from chasing her invade his skin under his shirt and pants. His cheeks prickled with heat and he panted, swallowing a lump down his constricted throat. “Something happened today,” he began softly. “Something you should know about.”

Emma bit her bottom lip and rolled her eyes sideways, catching the stare from an elderly neighbour who was watching them out of her window, curtains twitching sideways a few times. Emma let her eyes fall closed and she pinched the top of her nose between her thumb and finger, letting her breath leave her on an audible sigh. “What, Killian? Because I’ve had a really, really bad day. Week in fact. You-.” She pointed at him and dug her finger into his chest as she stepped forward. “I’ve had a bad week because of you.”

Killian took a step back and quickly looked behind him when his foot caught on a lump in the pavement, the thick, crumbly root from a nearby tree bursting up through the hardened ground. “I’m so sorry, love,” Killian said sincerely, reaching for her hand, her skin much warmer than his own. Emma pulled her hand from his, lifting her gaze to his once more. His eyes were the lightest shade of grey blue she had seen them in a long while and he reminded her of a nervous child when they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“Sorry doesn’t take away how I feel, Killian,” Emma snapped, brushing past him and hurrying up her front steps, muttering as she did. “I’ve built these walls around me, for so long, and you come in and somehow tear them down, making me feel for you!” Her shoes clicked against the ground and were finally dulled when she stepped into her house and slammed the door in his face.

“Emma!” Killian called, shooting a glance around the empty street before following her steps up to the front door. He turned sideways, falling against the old, creaking wood onto his shoulder and he let his head loll to the side and rest against the door. “Emma, please, listen to me,” Killian pleaded quietly, his breath condensing against the painted door as he spoke.

Emma swallowed hard, leaning back against the front door and covering her face with her hands. Her head fell backwards and she panted hard in long, angry breaths, trying to forget the fact that there was barely two inches of wood between them. Emma could swear she could feel Killian’s body heat radiating through the door and it made all of her hairs stand to attention. She hated how he made her feel. She hated her body’s reaction to him. Even just seeing him, her body surging with anger and adrenaline, had made her stomach do flips and she had fought to keep her tone of voice aggravated. No one had ever got through the wall before, into her heart, and made her feel so loved. She cleared her throat and kept her eyes closed. “I’m listening.”

Killian heard her words, barely a whisper through the door and felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you,” he said softly, his words barely audible to even him. He pressed his hand to the door beside his face, his fingertips splayed out against the wood as he watched them flex next to his features. Killian took a deep breath and rolled his forehead against the door. “Emma I know how you found out about Jenny. I want you to know, it didn’t happen how you were told,” Killian paused, waiting for her response.

The name on his lips was enough to make Emma fume on the opposite side of the door and she was thankful he couldn’t see her jaw clenching and her fists balling into tight, white rimmed shapes at her sides. There was a silent pause and then she heard him inhale to start talking some more. “Her name isn’t Jenny. It’s Shelley. Shelley Madison.” Killian’s voice was desperate and muffled through the wood.

For a second, Killian thought Emma might have walked off and left him talking to the peeling black paint layered over the front door. He couldn’t hear anything, not even her breathing or an imagined heartbeat through the barrier like he had before. He looked down to his feet, focusing idly on the potted plant that had long since dried in the sunshine sitting beside the doormat. He was about to call her name to confirm her presence when he heard the door latch click with a dull clatter and felt the door pull from the safety of the frame. Killian gulped hard and stood erect, searching her face when she stepped into view. “Go on,” Emma whispered, her tone lighter than before.

Killian let out the breath he had been holding and continued. “Two years ago, some guys at the office set me up on a blind date with a woman named Shelley,” he started, watching her face as she digested the information he was telling her. “We went on one date before I realised she wasn’t the kind of person I wanted to be with.”

“How did you tell her?” Emma rasped, her voice low and her brow furrowed as she interrupted him. She was searching for an excuse to still hate him, a reason to rebuild the barrier around her heart.

“I’m sorry?” Killian said with a shake of his head. Her question confused him for a second and he stared at her with his mouth open.

“How did you tell her you didn’t think you should see her again?” Emma repeated slower and more sarcastic than before.

Killian averted his gaze to the ground again and licked his lips nervously. He pinched his eyes closed and let his words leave his mouth quietly. “We exchanged numbers and I said I’d call her.”

“But you never did,” Emma interrupted him again, finishing his shameful admittance for him. Killian looked back up to her sheepishly and Emma let out a low laugh. “You’re a bastard, Killian,” Emma scoffed, stepping back into the house and pushing hard against the door.

“No! Wait,” Killian stepped into the door, wedging his foot in between the door and its frame. Emma slammed the door against his foot and Killian gritted his teeth when the pain he tried to tell himself it was worth shot up his leg. He knew Emma was worth it and she deserved the truth. “I was going to call her,” Killian argued, feeling her release the door from his foot and then the rush of blood to the area as it began to bruise in his shoe. His hand came up and he gripped to the doorframe, supporting his weight and taking it off his foot subtly. “Work got in the way and then she called me.”

Emma studied his face and tilted her head to the side. “What did you say to her?” Emma asked quickly, folding her arms across her chest and letting the door swing open against her better judgement.

Killian looked up at her and shrugged. “I told her we were not right for each other. That she shouldn’t waste her time with me.”

“Why do I get the feeling there is more to this story?” Emma said with an exhausted sigh. Her voice was laced with agitation and tiredness. All she wanted was for Killian to get to the point in his story. Killian looked at her and straightened his posture but did not step into the house. “Get to the point, Killian.”

“Things got worse,” Killian said quickly. “She stalked me. Followed me to work, home from work, and wherever I went during the weekends. She’d call me day and night, declaring her love for me and telling me how we were meant to be together,” Killian’s declaration of truth was interrupted by Emma’s giggling and he watched her shake her head with a confused frown.

Emma caught him staring at her and brushed her hair from her brow with a quick sweep of her hand. She shook her head and sent her frayed, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. “Now you know how I feel, Killian,” Emma said, the sarcasm in her voice erupting into the hallway.

“Emma, it isn’t funny. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel in any way uncomfortable,” he said with pink in his cheeks. “I knew what you had been told was wrong, and you deserve to know the truth.” Killian finally stepped into the house and pushed the door closed behind him. “You can tell me to leave, and I’ll respect whatever your heart desires if that is truly what you want. I just wanted the chance to explain everything.”

Emma’s laughter faded away slowly and she looked up at him. He looked pathetic. Not even his well pressed suit could disguise the fact he had days of facial hair growing from his chin, spiky and radiating in all directions. His eyes were filled with a watery glint of something she couldn’t place and he really looked ready to give up. Emma sighed and twisted her mouth sideways, looking and staring blankly into her lounge. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

“Deadly. Emma, I am not that kind of man, I give you my word,” Killian said softly. “I had to get a restraining order, change my email, phone numbers, my car, my address. I had to leave everything. Even move the business across the state,” he sighed, running his hand over his brow that had begun to drip with tiny beads of sweat under the hot, hallway lighting above his head.

Emma was taken back. “A restraining order? Oh my God, Killian.”

“Now do you see? The nurse at the hospital, Jenny or something, that wasn’t her name,” he shook his head and his words left his mouth in a relieved breathy whisper. “Shelley had changed her name illegally, some fake documents the cops said, and got a job at the hospital for God only knows what reason. Emma, she still thinks we should be together and that conversation you overheard that day at the hospital? About me? That was part of her plan to get rid of you.”

Emma’s eyes went wide with shock and she suddenly felt violated. She narrowed her gaze and tilted her head. “She knew about us?”

“Emma, she knew everything,” Killian said, his voice cracking with a sudden fear.

“Where has she been for two years? Why hasn’t she surfaced before now?” Emma asked, confused.

Killian felt his body flush with a pink glow and he looked away from her, watching his feet shuffle on the carpet. “I haven’t exactly dated in two years. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” Killian growled to himself, scratching the patch of skin behind his ear, something Emma had noticed he did when nervous. “I should have realised. I should have noticed her at the hospital but, truth be told, all I saw was you.” Killian lifted his gaze to hers and blushed a little, swallowing hard.

“You were at the hospital today,” Emma said surely. It wasn’t a question because she knew he had been there. Even before she had heard about Jenny or Shelley, put two and two together just now, she had known. Killian was like a presence she could feel wherever she was. “That’s why Jenny was arrested.”

“Aye,” Killian nodded, his feet steadfast on the ground while his heart tugged at his brain to tell them to step towards her. “I went to get my stitches out. Guess who was my assigned nurse?” Killian said with numb sarcasm. “When I realised who she was and that she was breaking the terms of the order, I had her arrested.”

Emma let out a long sigh and felt her guard drop as her body relaxed. It made sense, and even if it did seem highly far fetched, something in Killian’s voice told her it was all true. Emma lifted her hand to her mouth and nibbled on her thumbnail, her entire brain rushing with thought. She could still hate Killian but to be honest, all she felt for him was sorrow. She had jumped to conclusions and led herself to believe that he was nothing more than another guy who would use her.

“What are you thinking?” Killian asked softly, resting his hand to her shoulder and shaking her from her thoughts.

Emma jumped a little, her eyes darting to his hand on her shoulder, searing her flesh through the coat she was still wearing and then to his eyes. She didn’t know why she had chosen that exact moment to make a joke, but unable to shake the thought from her brain, she let it slip from her lips with a smile.

“You hadn’t had sex in two years?” She laughed, arching an eyebrow at him. “And you broke your celibacy with me?” She took his hand from her shoulder, watching as her own fingers traced the ridges of his knuckles.

Killian relaxed and laughed with her as he shook his head. “Emma, you did something to me that day I met you. Something I have never felt before but something I’m pretty sure I want to feel for the rest of my life.” As his laughter subsided, Killian twisted their hands until he was caressing hers this time. “If you’d let me, I’d like to take you to lunch. I’d like to start again and forget about this whole Jenny thing, alright?”

“Like a date?” Emma felt her heart flutter again, a feeling she had missed since he had been gone, and she stared at him with a smile. She let her eyes fall closed and she nodded softly. “Okay,” she agreed lightly. “Tomorrow, you can take me to lunch.”

Killian lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. The soft, wispy beard on his jaw scratched at her hand but Emma did not notice. “Lunch, tomorrow,” he repeated, kissing her skin, letting his lips linger on her knuckles longer than he had intended. “Thank you, Emma.”

“Wear something sexy,” Emma teased, letting her hand slip from his as he walked back towards the door, a relieved sigh leaving his mouth on a laugh.

[huffle-dork]

Curiosity Killed the Cat (Part 5)

Wary of Lavender Light

Part 4: [x] CKTC Tag (if you’d like to read from the beginning!) [x]

(ITS FINALLY BACK!! Can you believe it?? Sorry for the HUGE hiatus! I really have no excuse except you know being inspired by other projects ;;; but I can now say I got almost all of this planned and I’m so hyped! I hope y’all are too :3 enjoy!! And let me know what you think!!)

A harsh ring echoed across the room as a phone buzzed on the nightstand next to Jackie’s bed. The superhero groaned and rolled over on his pillow, shielding his face from the sunlight creeping through his curtains. He did not want to get up. He didn’t want to go to work. What was the point of working minimum wage when he was a fucking superhero by night?

“-because otherwise you wouldn’t have an apartment, dumbass,” Jackie mumbled to himself groggily. With a strained groan, he pushed himself off his stomach out of bed, fluffing up his mop of brunette hair. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Jackie reached to his nightstand and unlocked his phone, shutting off his alarm. Though, reaching over the nightstand, his wrist brushed against a piece of fabric and Jackie paused once the noise had quieted to stop and stare. The small blue ragged mask he lend to Jamie during their brief partnership lay next to him and the hero swallowed hard against the pit in his stomach. He hadn’t heard much from Jameson since that day. It had been almost a week...But, Jackie had assumed he had just thrown himself into extra shifts back down at the haberdashery, now that their “family emergency” was solved.

In fact, this was Jackie’s first day officially back at his own job since everything had gone back to normal. Back to the game shop. Jackie sighed heavily and pulled himself to step out of bed, dragging himself to his closet to tug on his polo shirt and slacks and to make sure the bags under his eyes weren’t too pronounced.

As much as Jackie was dreading going back to work, he was also glad to have an excuse to get out of the house. Ever since JJ dropped the sidekick deal, Jackie had been feeling really depressed. Sure, he loved working with Marvin and he was so happy to have him back. But, he was so excited to show Jamie the ropes of being a hero. He seemed so excited too… full of such joy and drive. What changed?

As Jackie thought to himself, across the hall his ears caught the quiet whisper of chanting and a chill ran up the hero’s spine. The foreign language seemed to burn the air as it slithered around the apartment and Jackie had to resist the urge to just bolt out of his room and run to the store. He had to deal with Marvin before he left.

Marvin had been… strange to say the least this last week. Which, of course, was to be expected. He was kidnapped by Anti. Lost some memories. Of course he would be fucked up. And he was. For a couple hours. Then once Jackie had come back from dealing with that criminal with Jamie… Marvin had changed. Jackie didn’t want to say he was a different person. But he certainly wasn’t acting like himself.

Marvin was always one to withdraw himself when he was upset or dealing with something. But, this isolation was something else. Jackie hardly ever saw him. Yet, he refused to go back to his own apartment. It kinda made sense? Maybe he didn’t want to be completely alone… But the magic… the magic was the most unsettling part.

With all that’s happened with his magic lately, Jackie fully expected Marvin to take a break from magic all together. Jackie thought he knew Marvin… he thought he knew Marvin wouldn’t push himself this hard and fast after something like this. But, Marvin was proving him different. Marvin was a driven person, but he knew how to have fun, knew when to take a break, liked to cause trouble. Jackie had hardly seen Marvin out of his room this week. The magician turned down every one of Jackie’s offers for food or coffee which was...even stranger. Jackie hadn’t seen Marvin eat in a while either. And the hero was pretty much forbidden from stepping foot in Marvin’s room. Even though it was Jackie’s apartment. Something was off.

But a couple nights ago, Jackie caught something. He came home late only to find a strange glow coming from underneath Marvin’s door. And a sliver of the door cracked open, just enough for someone to peek an eye in. Lavender light flooded the hallway and the air burned and hissed with an energy Jackie had never felt before. And… Marvin’s voice. It had a dark sinister tone as he chanted some long complicated spell.

Using his skills from thousands of stakeouts, Jackie crept down the hall and made to the other side of Marvin’s door frame so he could lean in and observe. In the room, Marvin was bent over on the floor, surrounded by flickering candles whose flames were outlined by green and purple the longer he chanted. The floor was littered with piles of spell books, as well as ripped out pages from said books, written on and highlighted to all hell. A black tome, blacker than any black Jackie had ever seen lay next to Marvin as if he was afraid to let it leave his side. And in Marvin’s hand was a small crocheted doll. It looked like Jack.

The cat masked magician continued to chant and the button eyes of the doll started to glow a dark sick purple, echoing the magic at Marvin’s fingertips. Strings of magic wrapped around the doll’s wrists, ankles and finally it’s neck before Marvin yanked his hand back and pulled the strings taut. Jackie didn’t know it was possible for a doll with no face to look like it was in pain. Marvin’s face cracked into a grin and the strings snapped as he spat out the last word of the spell, the light of the candles being snuffed out as the purple glow in the room dimmed. A low chuckle came out of Marvin as he studied the doll in his hands, turning it over in contemplation.

“I bet Anti is very very happy you’re still asleep, Jack,” Marvin mused to himself with a slight unhinged sounding giggle, “He must assume he made such a good little puppet out of me!” Then the smile immediately dropped off his face as he gripped the doll in his hand tight, as if to choke it. His eyes flashed from bright blue to purple as he cocked his head to the toy, a slow smooth smile spreading on his face.

“Won’t he be surprised when he sees I’m the one pulling the strings?”

An involuntary shiver ran up Jackie’s spine as he heard those words fall out of Marvin’s mouth, his blood running cold. Was Marvin saying this of his own free will or was he-?

Suddenly, Marvin’s head snaps around towards the door, the whole of his eyes flowing with purple power. Jackie pushes himself as far away from the door as fast as possible, rushing for his room, hoping he can be convincing enough to look like he just came home. Shit, he’s sweating buckets, his heart is rushing a thousand miles per hour. The door to Marvin’s room slams open and a rush of hot air flows through the hallway, blowing Marvin’s hair and cape up dramatically as he growls. Jackie’s foot in the doorway of his room and he whips around with a forced face of confusion.

“Woah what the hell bro? You expecting a burglar?!”

It seems to have worked as the wind dies down and the purple quickly fades out of Marvin’s eyes. He looks at Jackie bewildered and quickly smooths down his hair.

“Jackie…” Marvin breathes, “I… I didn’t hear you come home.”

Jackie gives Marvin a small smile,”Yeah. You sounded… busy, so i tried to be quiet so i wouldn’t disturb you!” The hero gave the magician a thumbs up and a half hearted grin, feeling sweat dripping down his forehead. God, he hated lying, though he wasn’t completely lying. He just hoped Marvin believed him, and that whatever freaky spells he was learning didn't give him the power to read minds…

There’s a long uncomfortable span of silence before Marvin nods his head. He eyes Jackie, then just turns heel and heads back to his room without another word.

Jackie had a lot of trouble sleeping that night...and every night since then.

Something was wrong! But… Jackie was scared to say anything. What if he was just being paranoid? The last time he overreacted to Marvin… well he disappeared and got kidnapped by Anti. Jackie couldn’t let himself be the cause of that again. It would tear him apart.

But, honestly? If Marvin was being controlled still, or was corrupted or whatever else was the matter with him…. Jackie was also sure he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of this new magic.

Though if Jackie had to go to work, so did Marvin damnit! Freaky magic or not! It was time for a little tough love…

Jackie steels himself as he pushes himself to stand in front of Marvin’s room, trying not to shiver at the sound of Marvin’s chanting from the other side. Taking a deep breath, the hero swallows and raises his hand, knocking loudly on the door. The chanting stops immediately and soon Marvin is cracking the door open, a look of annoyance on his face.

“What, Jackie?” Marvin demanded, baring his canines slightly. Jackie felt himself shiver again but he tried his best to stand his ground. Though as Jackie tried to gather his words, his eyes wandered to the arm Marvin was using to keep the door open. The hero blinked rapidly as he thought he saw underneath the cloth of his brother’s shirt a series of purple veins. And they were glowing?

Marvin’s exasperated tone snapped Jackie’s gaze away, “Jackie, if you don’t have anything to say then-”

“Ah no- I-!”Jackie stammered, shaking his head. “I…” He stood up straighter, setting his face. “I’m heading back to work today. And… You seem to be doing better.” Jackie winced slightly, hoping he didn’t sound too insensitive. “It.. it might be time for you to head back to the theater, don’t you think?”

The magician tilts his head slightly and studies Jackie, with almost no emotion. The seconds tick by so slowly and Jackie wishes Marvin would just say something.

“Then don’t you think it’s about time we got back to hero work, Jackieboy?”

Jackie freezes, a retort dead on his tongue. A smirk creeps up on Marvin’s face, a mischievous light in his eye.

“Oh? I’m sorry, did i strike a nerve, hero?” Marvin purred, stepping forward. Jackie quickly stepped back, clutching his backpack and tensing away from Marvin.

“Marvin, what the hell-?” Jackie bit back, “I-I I haven’t been avoiding hero work-”

“It’s not very herolike to lie, Jackie,” Marvin interrupted, giving him a big cheshire like grin. “We all know how heartbroken you’ve been about losing dear Jameson as a… sidekick.” Marvin made sure to make ‘sidekick’ long and drawn out with a obviously fake sad smile. Jackie looked away and bit his lip.

“However,” Marvin continued,”You can’t be selfish, Jackie. People’s lives are at stake!”

Jackie balled his hands into fists and gritted his teeth together, not able to look Marvin in the eye. He could just feel his smug expression.

“...Let me think about it. I’ll decide after work.” Jackie eventually sighs. But then he turns and points at Marvin, narrowing his eyes. “But you! Need to get out of the apartment, Marv! Go to the theater… gets some sun for fuck’s sake! You’ve been acting like a goddamn vampire…”

Marvin just continued to smile smugly at Jackie, not even batting an eyelash. He grabbed Jackie’s finger and pulled it out of his face.

“Whatever you say, Hero. Wouldn’t want to upset my crime fighting partner!” He then grinned wider, changing his grip on Jackie’s finger to grab it tighter and pull it so he could drag Jackie’s face closer to his. Jackie could feel a strange hum of energy coming off Marvin that sent his hair standing on end. “After all, this could be our grand return to the stage!”

Jackie swore he saw a flicker of purple light in Marvin’s eyes and he quickly pulled away, rubbing his hand as shivers raked his spine.

“Uh yeah… sure. S-See you tonight, then,” Jackie sputtered all too quickly as he made his way for the door. Marvin smiled sweetly after him, waving.

“See you tonight, Jackie!”

[whenyourfeetdonttouchtheground]

Thoughts on Moulin Rouge

I figured I would share some summary and opinions on Moulin Rouge, since it seems like people are interested in knowing details. I’ll try to keep my comments from being derivative of other people’s summaries…since I know there are a few out there circulating people’s dashes. Also, SPOILERS, so don’t read if you don’t want to know stuff about the plot!

1). The start of this show!!!! It’s incredible!! I’m not familiar with any other shows that start the way this show started (aside from, like, a regional production of Newsies that I saw). When you think Broadway, you think of a big, dramatic overture as the curtain rises and the house lights dim to signal the start of the show. Or, if not a grand, sweeping overture, there’s at least a clear distinct line signaling the show starting. 

When you walk into the theatre to see Moulin Rouge, you are walking into THE Moulin Rouge. There is a curtain serving as a backdrop, with chairs and tables placed downstage. So far, nothing is too different—lots of shows set the mood with a few set pieces stuck strategically on stage. The air in the theatre is filled with the hum and excited chatter of the audience, most of whom are struck in awe by the set (pretty sure this point has already been covered extensively by other people, so I’ll restrain myself from rambling on about it!). Pretty soon a tuxedoed gentleman wanders on stage, and he kind of goes unnoticed by most of the audience. He quietly paces around the stage a moment, before claiming a spot at one of the tables. He sits, but it’s clear he’s waiting for something. Soon enough, a woman employed at the Moulin Rouge arrives to see if she strikes his fancy. She plays coy and suggestive, leaning in to kiss him on the neck. 

All of this occurs while the audience is still chatting. There’s no dialogue spoken by the couple on stage. Soon, more gentlemen and more ladies begin to trickle into the Moulin Rouge. They make their ways around the stage and the front aisles of the theatre. 

The only other time I’ve seen this attempted, the audience shut up so quickly the moment the first actor appeared on stage. But this show was unique; for Moulin Rouge, the appearance of the actors was so subtle that it actually managed to create the mood of the bordello; they slowly and gradually drew in your attention to the start of the show. As people kept wandering in, two Moulin Rouge ladies made their way to the center of the stage apron. They raised their arms and… LITERALLY SWALLOWED SWORDS! By now, most of the audience was quiet, but it still didn’t quite feel like the actual start of the show. People kept wandering on and it took everyone in the theatre a second to realize that Aaron Tveit had also wandered on as Christian. Of course, the illusion of the bordello is kind of shattered when the audience realize he’s there since the whole theatre erupts into applause….but it’s great while it lasts! 

2). So Christian makes his way on stage, but there’s still no music, and no real feel of watching a Broadway show….which segues nicely to my next observation from the show–the beautifully executed synchronized moments. There are so many moments in this show that rely on actors making gestures with lighting and/or sound effects to accompany those gestures. Again, this is not a new gimmick in the world of theatre, but, whenever I’ve seen this done before, there’s always a split second too long between the gesture and effect and it wrecks the illusion of simultaneity. Not here. The synchronization was SPOT ON. So Christian wanders into the bordello, distraught and depressed. It’s quiet in the theatre—the audience has fallen silent and all the patrons of the bordello are focused on Christian. With a pained expression, he turns to look towards the interior of the bordello. With a heavy heart he opens his palms up skywards, and gives them a slight drop. Cue the curtain rising and Lady Marmalade. Chills. The juxtaposition of Christian’s pain and sadness with the first few grand beats of Lady Marmalade made the hairs on my arms stand on end. 

3). There’s confetti everywhere for Lady Marmalade and it’s great fun. Harold Zidler definitely needed that confetti canon cane. 

4). Holy hot damn. Tam Mutu rocks every single one of his costumes. I mean, all of the costumes are phenomenal, but the detailed black brocade for the duke’s coats is just….wow…… and it looks astounding on stage. Also, I never thought a super macho man could rock a pale lavender, floor length coat, but Tam Mutu sure does. 

5). They changed the character of the duke. Gone is the simpering, weasely man of the movie. Tam Mutu plays the role with arrogance and aggression that makes you actually believe the duke is capable of the jealousy and violence they talk about in the movie. He was super imposing and intimidating….right up until I noticed him grinning from ear to ear while folded over for bows. 

6). Aaron Tveit plays Christian so well. But, it’s not like that really needed saying. I’ve loved the movie forever, but I never quite bought Ewan McGregor as a young, naïve poet who’d never been in love. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to death as Christian. But he always struck me as too mature for the role. Aaron Tveit brings all the boyish innocence that Christian is supposed to embody. Also, Aaron develops the character so nicely as Christian descends into depression throughout the course of the story. Seriously. Aaron Tveit sobbing on stage for El Tango de Roxanne is more than my little heart can take.

7). One of the sweetest bits of new dialogue is when Christian is nervous about meeting Satine and tells Toulouse “I can’t meet her, she’s out of my league” and Toulouse tells him that genius has no league and shoves him towards Satine. 

8). The shows finds a weird little niche between heartbreaking tragedy and comedy. They use their pop score to interject lots of humor by playing random bits of well known standards (I mean, you can’t get any funnier than a show literally rickrolling you) and for me it almost became a game to try to see if I could guess what song the music vamp was leading into, before they started singing it. I’m curious to see if the show will lose some of its humor once there’s a cast recording and people are more familiar with the music of the show. 

9). Satine no longer sings “One Day I’ll Fly Away”……but damn…..Karen Olivo sure owns “Firework” now. 

10). THE. ELEPHANT. LOVE. MEDLEY. It’s different than the movie, and encompasses more songs, including some lesser known indie songs (hooray!). At first I was a little unsure about this new rendition, just because I love the original so so so much. Also, I was a little unsure since they added Come What May into the mix of songs….but more on that topic later. I ended up LOVING this arrangement. Particularly because the staging was MAGICAL….it literally mimicked the scene for “Your Song” in the movie…..Eiffel tower, pink umbrella, stars, and all!!

11). Come What May lost some of its poignancy. In the movie, the song is this number that Christian writes for Satine’s character to sing anytime she is missing her lover. It’s a façade Christian creates so that Satine can think of him whenever she’s upset about her relationship with the duke. For the stage, Come What May is simply one of the love songs that Christian and Satine sing, and it’s also reprised as a finale. It’s still gorgeous, and impactful, but the plot thread about Christian writing it to be part of his story is gone. 

12). Okay. I tried to hold off for as long as I could, but I have to mention it: THE SETS ARE AMAZING!!!

13). The Absinthe scene with the green fairy was handled so well. For as much as I love the movie, Kylie Minogue appearing as the green fairy early on in the movie always struck me as a completely random scene, aimlessly interrupting the plot for a few moments. For the stage, they introduced it much later in the show, and turned it into Christian struggling with Satine rejecting him and when Toulouse and Santiago suggest he try Absinthe, he does hallucinate the green fairy, but it’s his vision of Satine as the green fairy that he can’t get ahold of. 

14). They changed Mimi’s character!!!! She’s a minor character, but she’s such a villain in the movie. She’s jealous of Satine’s success at the Moulin Rouge, and in the movie she sees this as an excuse to reveal Christian and Satine’s affair to the duke. But in the stage adaptation she actually warns Satine that the duke is dangerous and she needs to be careful. It was such a minor character to change, but I was so happy that they made the change. 

Okay. I could go on and on about every little detail relating to this show….but my overall gut impression of this show is that it’s truly SPECTACULAR! The actors put so much heart and energy into this show that it was nothing short of magical; I think there was a dumb grin plastered to my face the entire time I was in the theatre, even as there were tears pouring down my face at the sad parts and my hands hurt from clapping by the end of the evening…it was just that good. 

[wallflower-willow22]

Innocent Rebel

My First Story

I wanted to start off by saying if you're reading this. Thank you. Just one view makes me so happy and the thought of someone liking and enjoying my work is great. Secondly, I just want to mention that this is my first time publishing a story that I've written anywhere so I am both nervous and excited. So I hope you enjoy this short story about a young girl exploring her sexuality and going beyond her limits. Thank You.

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“Oh fuck” I gasped as I woke up with a start, I automatically checked my watch the illuminating blue light flashing the late 03:03 on the plastic face of my digital watch, great! I thought.

“What’s wrong? Did you not enjoy that?” she purred a coy smirk on her face as she stretched her long, long limbs, I sighed internally fuck she was a beauty to look at. Memories of the last few hours flashed through my mind like lightning.

“No.” I sighed “It was great, fabulous even just it’s probably the reason my phone is lighting up like a fucking Christmas tree”

“Ahh” she sighed in realisation, as she flopped on the bed “ I didn’t think someone as cute and innocent as you could swear…. of course, you proved me wrong”

I scoffed loudly “You barely knew me for what? A few hours. Shows you for judging a book by its cover” my favourite idiom slipped out of my mouth easily. Idiom, idiom, oh how I loved that word. If there was one thing I missed from A levels it was the vocabulary in English, the sophistication and elegance of such words just made me feel so confident and smart and empowered. Like I didn’t need physical strength; my wit and words could be my sword.

I shook my heading allowing my internal monologue to fade away like floating clouds and focused on the task at hand, my thumb hovered over my dad’s number glaring at me in the dark. I didn’t realise that whilst deep in my thoughts I had tuned out Isabelle's words,

“Lizz, Lizz, Lizz!!” she exclaimed her hands waving in front of my eyes drastically, I blinked quickly

“Huh?”  I mumbled incoherently

“ Wonderful you’ve come back to earth” she muttered, “ I said what are you going to do then? And do you want me to come with you? “

I smiled shyly at the words, no don’t become hopeful,  do not become hopeful please for fuck sakes don’t do this I repeated this mantra to myself (internally of course). I could feel my heart clench at the images of me and Izzy that swam in my brain like small fish. Fish. Fishy. Oh, My God, my mother is going to kill me I thought.

“I’m going to die” I answer dramatically, she rolls her eyes “ No seriously, I have one, two three, like 30 missed calls here and that’s just from my mum” I scrolled down the screen my greasy thump staining my phone. My throat closed up in fear, “ I mean if your lucky, they’ve only called family and friends but if not well let’s just say my face will be on the BBC news tomorrow morning”

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it? I mean come on when’s the last time you stayed out this late? I mean how bad could it have been?”

“Never.” I screeched “I’ve never ever been out this late, I mean the last time I was out this late, it was a New Years Eve party at my cousin's house”

“Well…” she started “and my parents were there!” her mouth opened... wide,

“What about prom? I mean you must’ve been out late then?” she questioned, I realised then how little she knew about me, unlike David or Lisa she had spent little to no time with me, she didn’t know about my family, she didn’t know about their controlling behaviour.

“Oh God, I’m never going to be allowed out again” I cry, I mean this is the last time my Grandad will ever defend me. Ever! I looked at the screen helplessly as Izzy groaned at the back in frustration, she pulled the covers back with a swish, her slippers padded softly across the room. “I’m making hot chocolate, call me when you’ve sorted it,” she said. I ogled at those small shorts that rode up her back. When she pulled her nighty down to cover her ass, her mouth opened and her arms elongated. She was the epitome of beauty and adorableness, I know it’s not a word but that’s how she looked in that moment.

 I looked at my phone again noticing the +259 in my row of numbers, great they ’d told Lilly, most likely woken her up. What a great idea!. I am so dead. Dead. I took a deep breath and wondered if Izzy would let me stay at hers if they kicked me out? No. Stop.  I didn't want any more negative thoughts. So I took another deep breath and clicked on the number, the phone rang for a millisecond before I heard the familiar warm voice through the device.

“Lizzie, Lizzie Where are you? It doesn’t matter are you ok? Are you safe” she interrogated me viciously non-stop but through the panic, I heard a calm but firm voice “Give me your address I’ll come to pick you up” I groaned what could I say to that? No sorry,  you can’t come pick me up. So instead I replied with;

“ It got late, and I was worried you were still angry at me so I decided to stay with the friend I went out with, she lives on her own and has a spare bedroom I borrowed. She was more than happy for me to stay” Ok so... I left a few things out, like that, I could’ve been home by 22:00 or that I wasn’t exactly using her spare bedroom or that she was far more than a friend. But what they didn’t know didn’t hurt them. Right?.

I twisted my broken nail, as I ripped it from my skin in impatience “ouch” I muttered. I heard a large sigh, it’s like It was replaying in my head; the way his palm covered his face in relief and frustration at the same time, I mean it’s not like I could really blame him. Finally, he managed out

“ I’m sorry I upset you, I know you think I coddle you too much but the last time I stopped well you know what happened, your Grandad’s really worried he blames himself for letting you go out on a Friday night.”

“Are. I sighed as I faltered “Are you angry” I asked him meekly

“No just relieved your safe. You are safe. Right, Lizzie? You arere not lying to me because you think I’ll get angry? I won’t I promise”

“ No, I’m not lying Dad, I promise” I hear my mum scoff in the background and my Dad’s quiet but firm “Taylor. Stop. Now is not the time”, the volume of his voice increased “When will you come back?” he sounded so worried, it broke my heart

“Tomorrow morning, first thing, promise” I said again hoping that the repetition would increase how much I meant it, my voice was becoming muffled with my fingers stuffed in my mouth “ok, just get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.” he paused then quietly almost like a whisper murmured “Good night. Love you” click.

I gulped as my throat began to hurt and my eyes burn. Oh fuck. Not now for fuck's sake. I realised quickly I swore a lot when I was scared, almost like a reflex. So mesmerised in my conversation I hadn’t noticed Izzy leaning against the doorframe her hands nursing a purple mug of what I assumed was hot chocolate.

“So? What happened? Are you dead now? Are we in heaven or something?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes screaming Are you ok? You can speak to me. Although to be fair that may just be the English student in me.

“Yeah, not as bad as I originally thought, I’m going back tomorrow morning”

A mischievous smile played on her lips, her eyes roaming over me like a predator with her prey. “I wonder what we’ll do till then?”

“ I wonder…” her lips crashed onto mine as my hands gripped her waist like an anchor, keeping me steady against the storm, I moaned into the kiss allowing the waves of pleasure  wash over me the feeling of stability and certainty giving me the peace of mind I so desperately needed, forgetting my worries if not just for a little while.    

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I woke up with the steady beat of a catchy pop song filling my head, oh thank god I thought, not emo or rock music. I mean each to their own and everything but if I’m being honest having two friends obsessed with that depressing stuff was more than enough. Immediately two thoughts came to my mine 1) how was Lisa? It had been ages since I’d seen her, I smile as I elongate my short limbs she’d be so fucking proud of me right now.2) How fucking dead was I really? The sunlight flooded my eyes as I rushed to cover my poor light depraved eyes “ughh” I groaned

“How eloquent, what happened to the smart sophisticated women I went to bed with?” Her teasing tone growing louder as she pulled the covers off my cold, rigid body “ugghh” I repeated as I embraced my curled up figure “ too early, too much sunlight” I grunted out.

“Charming,” she said, the tap of heels moving further away. Wait a minute. Heels? I perked up, my head peeking above the quilt, my eyes watched her figure clear up and my pupils adjusted to the light. She stood still like a statue to be admired in a pencil skirt and maroon top, a black blazer, black stilettos and red bag accompanying her. “Why the fuck are you so dressed up? What’s the time? How late am I “ my pitch increased with each question as I stumbled out of bed tripping and tangling myself into the large quilt attempting to get free. finally after enough waving and tugging and grunting as I’m free from the quilt I trip and stagger into the hallway.

“Relax” she laughs “ I have an early morning meeting,  it’s only  06:00 am but I have to leave. Make yourself at home and if you want we can do something when we get back. Otherwise, just leave the key under the mat and I’ll call you later? Cheerio”

Cheerio. What? I shook my head aggressively trying to wake myself up.  I go to the bathroom to brush and wash and all that, my heart sinks as I realise the impending doom.  I mean, I could ’ve just not gone back, but all my shit was at home. Worst case scenario I can grab all of my crap and leave. If that’s what they want.

I drag my feet to the bedroom intentionally dressing as slowly as possible, I grab my car keys from the small heart-shaped tray at the front,  along with the spare keys as I went. I opened the front door and triple checked I had everything. Key check. Phone check. Handbag check.  I took a deep breath and placed the spare key under the mat as she said, then stuck my headphones in and headed for the small red car that would drive me to my doom.    

By Wallflower,

[sixspencenonethewiser-blog]

A Year Ago

A year ago I was living for everyone else and was acutely awake of this fact. Nothing I did or attempted to change made my mental state any better. I did things simply because I thought that's what people wanted for me to appear normal. I didn't know what was wrong with me, my mind was a terrifying place to be and I felt as if I was looking at my life in a mirror upside down. I didn't even know what I wanted anymore. I was lost and too proud to admit there was something wrong. I was severely depressed and unhappy with myself and my current situation. There wasn't a single thing that made me feel anything but miserable. I saw no way out, however, I conscientiously stayed in this routine torture because the thought of disappointing the people who cared about me scared me more than the actual act of suicide itself. The part that scared me the most was that the fear of disappointment was quickly being out weighed by the nagging depression of living so miserably.

And it showed. I was withdrawn, angry, anxious. I lashed out at my partner for no reason. I pushed everyone away as far as I could and retreated into my little ball of hate and anguish. I refused to let anyone in and I refused to talk about my problems and seek the appropriate help. I just wanted everyone and everything to shut up and leave me alone.

My partner tried, he never gave up, but he did get tired. In our entire time of being together we had never really had an argument that was anything more than "I thought I asked you to do the dishes?" "Well I thought you were doing laundry, but here we are." Nothing ever too serious. However even he, the infallible, valiant nobleman reached a breaking point and said almost defeatedly: "I just don't know how to help you anymore."

And at that point, I honestly thought, "well yeah, it's because there is no helping me, obviously."

I had a plan. I wasn't going to let this cycle continue another year. I wasn't going to make it to my 25th birthday, I didn't want to make it that long. I didn't think I COULD make it that long. There was no point and every day felt like I was living someone else's life. I just wanted to give it back and not have the weight of being uncomfortable in my skin to go on any longer. I was tired. I saw no light at the end of the tunnel. I was done.

It was a hot summer day. My alarm went off and I opened my eyes, disappointed that some illness or masked murderer hadn't taken me out in my sleep. I stared at the ceiling dreading the day in front of me. See the thing is, when you don't want to be alive, everything is exhausting. By the time I was in the car and headed to school I was already ready to climb back into bed and start over the next day.

I had long ago learned that the best way assure those around you that you are fine is to slip on a perfectly crafted mask of how they perceive you to be and then ham it up until they leave you alone. And this is exactly what I did to face my colleagues and peers at school.

I couldn't remember the last time I had enjoyed a day, let alone my birthday, the constant reminder that time was moving forward while I was stuck in this weird limbo sort of numbness that made everything dull and aggravating for no discernible reason. All the days had become a blur of monotony and my birthday made no difference.

I was at my lowest point of depression. If you had asked me at that point if I could tell you one thing I loved, or even liked about myself, I could honestly tell you there wasn't a single thing. I was so desperate to be done with this burden of life, I despised myself to my very core.

I was so empty, so numb, yet this numbness had a cutting, lethal edge to it. This biting ache, like when your ears get SUPER cold outside in winter because you thought, "I have a hood; I wont need a hat, it'll be fine." And then the cold hits you and you instantly regret it. The numbness taking over was like that sharp ache only it felt like it was consuming me from the inside out, slowly devouring every part of me until I was just motioning through the days but not actually there.

The day dissolved into its regular depressive cloud. Petty arguments with my partner, a tactic to wedge distance between him and I. I had this terrifying thought that had been buzzing at the pack of my mind for 6 months and I was at the breaking point, either it was going to come out and I admit it to myself and the world, or I die; as dramatic as that sounds, that is how it boiled down in my head. Either way was going to anger, disappoint, hurt and confuse the people in my ĺife; only one of them I didn't have to deal with the fallout.

I had this daunting question looming over my every move: "could this be the answer to what has you feeling so lost?"

I had worked on Hedwig, which after listening to the soundtrack 400 times, some of the songs had sort of started to resonate with me, it freaked me out, to be honest. I wondered what it meant for my life. I secretly tumbled my way on to some blogs and read about other people's journeys, I talked with a childhood friend who had transitioned and another friend who was just entering the process for themselves and they both had this.. tenacity. This wild drive, passion and genuine love for the skin they were in. I was jealous and couldn't put my finger on why. They had something that I had always been longing to find, I just didn't think that I deserved to be happy like that. It would make too many people upset with me.

I had given up, I just didn't care anymore. I honestly didn't think I could ever be who I wanted to be. In my mind I had committed myself to a certain way of living and there was no turning back. I had simply gone too far to suddenly demand to turn everything around and ask for something I wasn't sure I wanted; something I wasn't sure would help or even something I thought I was even capable of.

Rather than face my problems and figure out what the hell was going on inside my head, I wanted the easy way.

A year ago I planned to not be on the planet anymore.

A year ago I planned to kill myself.

My partner was at a loss. "I really think we should get you some help. Clearly what we're doing isn't working. I don't even know who you are anymore."

I knew I had to say something. If I wasn't going to be on this planet at least he deserved to know why. I took a deep breath and the lump in my throat finally broke free after months of sitting there and before my lips could stop it I just said it. "I think I might be trans." The words fell into my lap like a lead weight. The silence was heavy as we both waited for the other person to speak.

After a tense few moments my partner exhaled slowly. "So, what do we do now?"

Those six words saved my life.

The thought that I had any control over my life and what was happening had never been a possibility before. I had always just gone along with whatever was expected of me and hadn't ever deviated from the mold of what my life was supposed to be. What do we do? I had never questioned if there were options to my dilemma. Do? There was nothing to do. I could never take something like that for myself. I didn't deserve what ever answers this may provide me. It wasn't according to the plan.

Ever the support, my partner constantly attempted to talk be back from the ledge. "I love you no matter what. Fuck anyone else who doesn't."

This opinion sparked a whole new set of crisis questions. The kind that shake you to your core. I was trans, I had said it out loud and not burst into flames.. what did this mean?

Of course I knew broad strokes of what it meant to be transgender, and I knew I identified with what I understood, but there was still a lot of late night tumblr and youtube, ugly cry, information seshes going on to try and understand just what the hell was budding down in my soul.

I spent months agonizing over how I was going to tell people. My partner and I had chosen a name and he had begun to call me Spence. I tested the waters of this new found identity and told my sister. She and I cried and had a lengthy discussion about what I wanted and what this meant for my life. She told me she supported me 100% and was on my side no matter what or who I decided to be.

The first time I got called Spence was the first day, in my life, I had the thought: "oh, this is why people get up and not hate themselves to the point of death every morning."

Spence was important.

Spence was cared about.

Spence had people in his corner.

These few words were the ones I really needed. I had my little support group who knew what was going on in my heart and in my brain and were letting me figure it out. This gave me the confidence to be comfortable with the human I had discovered in the mirror.

A year ago I was finally honest with myself and those who care about me most.

A year ago Spence was born, from the ashes of a miserable life, like a Phoenix.

A year ago was the honest last time I seriously considered killing myself.

Spence saved my life.

[chaoticremedy]

So to spread awareness you get this post (I Promise this will be the only one this month, I don't want to bore you)! Now I'm guessing you're wondering WTF Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS) is... Well here you go!For those of you who care about my original diagnoses, THIS was the first step in my road to serious diagnosis.I'm currently diagnosed with Vascular EDS. What does this mean? I have a life expectancy on average of 40 (Which most people really don't know, so you get me opening up to you, congrats!). Most people will have some kind of traumatic issue by 30 (Check! That's done). My organs can rupture for any reason, any dramatic pain, fall, issue, I'm bumped to the front of the line in the ER, despite it usually being busy.EDS isn't well known, Doctors rarely know what it is, and that causes me to need to educate them and trust me, there are multiple complications.There is this "amazing" saying doctors have, that causes a lot of us to get misdiagnosed, and this is why it took years for someone to believe me. I thankfully now have a care team who is educated and willing to learn, to help me. It's so rare to find doctors like this any more.I can't ride roller coasters anymore, Rollerblade, bumper cars, ski, all of these things I enjoyed so much 3 years ago I'll never do again. I've slowly started to accept this. Pregnancy, if and when that happens, will cause me to automatically be high risk, A cold, the flu, could kill me (I mean if you can tear your artery by coughing... That's usually a bad sign).The pain is constant, it can change with weather, stress, food, fatigue, there is never a day that is the same. It comes with brain fog, confusion, headaches, and meds, so many meds.EDS is usually invisible, but there is always the pain, so when you see someone in a handicapped parking spot, who looks normal, they may be just having a good day, and pushing themselves will put them in bed for weeks. You may see someone capable needing to sit down, use a walker, a wheelchair.Our joints dislocate with small things like... oh say, breathing. Can you imagine how things, like walking, running, or even twisting JUST the wrong way, can be horrible for us?This letter was found by my community, we believe it was originally posted regarding fibro, however over the years it’s been modified by EDSers - and I modified it personally to fit me…Dear Loved one,Having Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, the Vascular type in my case, means that many things change. Just because you can't see the changes doesn't mean they aren't real.Most people don't understand much about this disability/disease and its effects, and of those that think they know many are actually misinformed. In the spirit of informing those who wish to understand…... These are the things that I would like you to understand about me before you judge me...-I am scared. I don't know what the future holds for me. Will I end up in a wheelchair or will I be one of the lucky ones. If you find me being quiet and reflective, please don't think I am upset with you. I am trying to sort out my fears. Having the vascular type can be even more severe than other EDS types - My veins can tear and burst, and organs can rupture at any time - this is my new reality.-I am angry. EDS has taken so much away from me. I can no longer do many of things I enjoy doing. I sometimes have difficulty just completing simple tasks. If I appear angry please understand it is EDS I am angry with, not you. A cough caused me to tear an artery, twice, I’ve been forced to turn into a hypochondriac, I’m angry at my body, not you. I am blessed to have an amazing support system, but that doesn’t help the anger. I’m angry with every drastic pain I have to go to the ER to make sure it’s not vascular.-Please understand that having EDS doesn't mean I'm not still a human being. I have to spend most of my day being very careful about what I do, and if you visit I might not seem like much fun to be with, but I'm still me stuck inside this body. I still worry about school, work and my family and friends etc, and most of the time I'd still like to hear you talk about yours too.-Please don't assume you know what is best for me. EDS has affected my joints, veins, organs, and such, not my mind. I am capable of making my own decisions. If I make the wrong decision, it is I who has to deal with the consequences. I still want to be part of the "gang." Please continue to invite me to participate in activities. I'll decide if I am capable of it. You may think you are being considerate by not inviting me to go ice-skating with everyone else, but it hurts when you exclude me. Maybe I can't skate with everyone else but I can bring the hot chocolate and watch.-Please don't tell me you know how I feel. You don't. Don't offer me sympathy; I don't want your pity. But do offer me support and understanding, which I appreciate. I know sometimes I look perfectly healthy, but looks can be deceiving. Please understand that I am dealing with invisible pain and a lot of fatigue. Even on a good day I feel like you do when you have the flu (tired, achy and sore). Please keep that in mind.-Please understand the difference between "happy" and "healthy". When you've got the flu you probably feel miserable with it, but I've been sick for years (EDS is genetic, this means I have had it since birth (even if I was only diagnosed recently, I have been suffering from this since I was born)). I can't be miserable all the time, in fact I work hard at not being miserable. So if you're talking to me and I sound happy, it means I'm happy. That's all. I may be tired. I may be in pain. I may be sicker than ever. Please, don't say, "Oh, you're sounding better!" I am not sounding better, I am sounding happy. If you want to comment on that, you're welcome to.-Please don't tell me how “Auntie Mary” cured her joint problems by drinking vinegar or any other supposed remedy. If you want to suggest a cure to me, please don't. It's not because I don't appreciate the thought; and it's not because I don't want to get well. It's because at first I tried them all, but then I realized that I was using up so much energy trying things that I was making myself sicker, not better. There is NO cure for EDS (and until they find the exact genes causing it and technology and medicine get to a point where something can be done about this, there will be no cure), only some of my symptoms and pain can be treated. If there was something that helped, then myself and other suffers would know about it (this is part of the reason I am a member of the online communities I am a member of). This is not a drug-company conspiracy, there is worldwide networking (both on and off the Internet) between people with similar and different chronic illnesses and disabilities, and if something worked we would know about it. If after reading this, you still want to suggest a cure, then do it if you must. Preferably in writing and accompanied by the scientific papers that prove it works. But don't expect me to rush out and try it. I might not even reply. If I haven't had it or something like it suggested before, and it sounds reasonable, I'll probably take what you said and discuss it with my doctor.-I want you to know that the pain and instability etc from EDS moves around. Please don't attack me when I'm worse by saying, “But you did it before!”. If you want me to do something, ask if I can and I'll tell you. Just because I climbed the stairs yesterday (or an hour ago) doesn't mean I can do it today (or in another hour). Yesterday (or earlier) my shoulder was throbbing; today (now) it is my knee, who knows what it will be tomorrow (or later). Also understand that being able to stand up for five minutes, doesn't necessarily mean that I can stand up for ten minutes, or an hour. It's quite likely that doing those five minutes has exhausted my resources and I'll need to recover - imagine an athlete after a race. They couldn't repeat that feat right away either. Please repeat the above paragraph substituting, "sitting up", "walking", "thinking", "being sociable" and so on ... it applies to EVERYTHING that I do.-Similarly, EDS and the symptoms of it may vary suddenly, meaning I may need to cancel an invitation at the last minute, if this happens please do not take it personally.-Please understand that "getting out and doing things" does not make me feel better, and can often make me worse. EDS may cause a secondary/reactive depression (wouldn't you get depressed occasionally if you had a body that could change suddenly for no reason, caused you pain 24/7 and could spontaneously rearrange itself through no fault of your own) but they are not caused by depression. Telling me that I need some fresh air and exercise is not correct and probably not appreciated - if I could possibly do it then, I would.-Please understand that if I say I have to sit down/lie down/take these pills now, that I do have to do it right now - it can't be put off or forgotten just because I'm doing something else more exciting. EDS does not forgive its victims easily.-Please understand that I can't spend all of my energy trying to get well from EDS it is incurable (and genetic, so unless I can change my gene’s I cannot change my disease/disorder). With a short-term illness like the flu, you can afford to put life on hold for a week or two while you get well. But an important part of having a chronic illness or disability like EDS is coming to the realization that you have to spend energy on having a life while you're sick/disabled. This doesn't mean I'm not trying to get better. It doesn't mean I've given up. It's just how life is when you're dealing with EDS or any chronic illness/disability.As you can see EDS really Sucks...Finally, please remember that I am the same person I was before I was diagnosed with (started getting symptoms of) this; EDS doesn't change the heart and soul. I still laugh, I still cry. I still love and I still hate. I am me, I am not my disease. Please continue to love me just as you did before. I need lots of love, understanding, support and hugs, just like you.But most importantly, I need you to understand me....And an added note: Please ask me questions if you want to know. I want more people to know about and understand EDS, I’ll never turn you down or ignore you, EDS is a rare disease that many don’t know about - I’m happy to share my knowledge and experiences with you. via /r/Tiix